Italian Folktales (35 page)

“You are a real godsend, good youth,” she replied. “I am the queen of the Three Mountains of Gold. A spell was cast over me and I must stay here in the water until I meet a man courageous enough to sleep in the palace three nights in a row.”

“If that's all one has to do,” answered Sandrino, “I'll sleep there myself.”

“I will marry whoever succeeds in sleeping there, when the three days are up. But you must not be afraid if you hear a commotion and see all kinds of wild animals rush into the room. Stand your ground, and they will retreat without touching you.”

“You can be sure I won't be afraid. I'll do exactly as you said.”

At nightfall the boy went to bed. Then at the stroke of midnight he heard a tumult and recognized the roar of wild animals. “Here we go,” said Sandrino, waiting to see what would happen.

Into the room rushed wolves, bears, eagles, serpents, and countless other beasts ferocious enough to make the Devil himself cringe. They circled the room and completely surrounded the bed, but Sandrino didn't cower the least bit, so the animals filed slowly out, and that was that.

In the morning the boy returned to the pool. The queen was now in water only up to her waist. She was happy and full of praise. At night the same animal music filled Sandrino's room, but he stood his ground and found the queen the next morning in water only up to her calves. She praised him to the skies, and Sandrino went to breakfast, all smiles.

He'd come to the last night. The animals roared mightily and closed in on the bed, but Sandrino still refused to flinch, and they finally left. In the morning only the queen's feet remained under water. He gave her his hand and led her out of the pool; maids of honor appeared and made a big fuss over her. They went to breakfast at once and set the wedding for three days thence.

On the morning of the wedding day, the queen said to Sandrino, “I must tell you something extremely important: when you kneel on the prayer bench, don't fall asleep, or I'll disappear and you'll see me no more.”

“That's all we would need!” replied Sandrino. “How could I possibly fall asleep?”

They went to church, where he knelt on the
prie-dieu
and became so drowsy that he fell sound asleep, while the queen fled. Upon awaking a few minutes later, Sandrino looked and saw that the queen was no longer there. “Woe is me!” he said over and over. He returned to the palace and searched everywhere for her, but she was nowhere to be found. He therefore picked up a bag of money and set out in pursuit of her.

After walking all day long he entered an inn at night and asked the innkeeper if he had seen the queen of the Three Mountains of Gold. “I've not seen her myself,” said the innkeeper, “but as I happen to be in charge of all the animals of the earth, I'll ask them if they've seen her.” He whistled once, and here came dogs, cats, tigers, lions, monkeys, and other animals, and the innkeeper asked, “Have any of you seen the queen of the Three Mountains of Gold?”

“No,” replied the animals, “we can't say that we have.”

The innkeeper dismissed all the animals and said to Sandrino, “Look, tomorrow morning I'll send you to my brother who's in charge of all fish, and you can see what they have to say.”

The next morning Sandrino gave the innkeeper a purse of money and left for his brother's.

When the man in charge of all fish heard that Sandrino had been sent by his brother, he invited him into his inn and said, “Just a minute and I'll call all the fish and ask them.”

He whistled, and here came pike, tench, eels, sturgeon, dolphins, whales, and all the rest. “No, we've seen nothing,” they all answered and were dismissed by the innkeeper, who then said to Sandrino, “Tomorrow I'll give you a letter of introduction to my brother, the one in charge of birds; they might have seen her.”

Sandrino impatiently awaited the next day, and when it dawned he set out and walked and walked until he reached the third inn. “I'll oblige you immediately,” said the innkeeper. He whistled, and all around them flew hens, owls, pheasants, birds of paradise, and falcons; only the eagle was missing. The innkeeper gave a second whistle, and the eagle appeared.

“I'm sorry I was late,” said the eagle. “I was attending a banquet at the court of the king of Marone who's marrying the queen of the Three Mountains of Gold.”

Hearing that news, Sandrino lost hope. But the man in charge of all birds said, “Cheer up, we'll see if we can do something about this.” He turned to the eagle. “Will you carry this youth to the court of the king of Marone?”

“Right away!” said the eagle, “but I demand that every time I call for water he give me water, every time I call for bread he give me bread, and every time I call for meat he give me meat. Otherwise I'll throw him into the sea.”

So the youth loaded up with two baskets of bread, two containers of water, and two pounds of meat. The eagle soared into the air with Sandrino astride. Every request the eagle made for bread, water, and meat was satisfied at once. But they still had a stretch of sea to cross, and the youth had run out of meat. The eagle called for meat, and Sandrino could think of nothing else to do but cut off flesh from his own leg and feed it to him. The queen had given him a magic salve, which he applied to the wound and healed it at once.

The eagle carried him right into the queen's room.

The minute they saw each other, they fell into each other's arms. They told each other everything, then the queen took him to the king, introducing Sandrino as her rescuer and bridegroom. The king thought it quite fitting for her to marry the young man and took great pleasure in proclaiming the wedding festivities, which lasted a month and one week.

 

(
Bologna
)

56

A poor man had three sons: Giovanni, Fiore, and Pírolo. Taken sick, he called his sons to his bedside. “As you can see with your own eyes, my sons, I am at death's door. All I have to leave you are three equal sums of money which I accumulated by hard work. Each of you take one and manage the best you can.” No sooner had he said that than he heaved a deep sigh and died. The boys were heartbroken and wept; their poor father had left them forever.

They each took a bag of money, but Giovanni, the oldest son, said, “Brothers, we'll never make out if we don't work. What we have here won't last forever and we'll find ourselves out in the cold. One of us must begin looking around for work of some sort.” The middle boy, Fiore, agreed. “You are quite right. I'll go out myself and see what I can find.” Next morning he got up, washed, shined his boots, slung his bag of money over his shoulder, embraced his brothers, and set out.

He spent the whole day looking around and, toward evening, passed by a church and saw the archpriest outside getting some fresh air.

“Good evening, Father,” said Fiore, doffing his hat.

“Good evening, young man, where are you going?”

“I'm going out into the world to seek my fortune.”

“What have you there in that bag?”

“The share of money my poor father left me.”

“How would you like to enter my household?”

“I'd like to.”

“I too have a share of money, mind you. If you enter my service, we'll make a bargain: the first one to lose his temper will forfeit his share of money.”

Fiore accepted the terms, and the archpriest took him out and showed him the plot of land to be tilled the next day, saying, “Once you begin working, there's no need to waste time going back and forth for breakfast and dinner. I'll send your meals out to you.”

“As you wish, Father,” replied Fiore. Then they sat down to supper and chatted awhile, after which the older servant woman showed the boy to his room.

Fiore got up bright and early the next morning and went out to dig up the field the archpriest had shown him the evening before. He dug until breakfast time, when he stopped and waited, expecting someone to show up any minute with food. When no one came, Fiore got upset and cursed. Since time was passing, he took up the spade again and went back to digging on an empty stomach in anticipation of dinnertime. At last it was dinnertime, and Fiore peered down the road to see if anyone was coming. Every time somebody approached, he was sure it must be the archpriest's servant and perked up; but it was always someone else, and he cursed a blue streak.

At last, around nightfall, the old woman arrived full of excuses: she'd been too busy with the laundry to come any sooner, and blah-blah-blah . . . . Although burning to call her every name under the sun, he controlled himself so as not to forfeit his sum of money to the priest. He dived into the old woman's basket and pulled out a pot and a bottle. He went to open the pot, but the lid seemed to have been cemented on and stuck fast. Screaming insults, Fiore sent pot and all flying. “But don't you realize,” began the old woman as innocently as you please, “that we closed it up tight so the flies wouldn't get into it.”

Fiore then grabbed the bottle, but it too was sealed up the same way. Cursing loud enough to awake the dead, he said, “Away with you! Go back and tell the archpriest he'll hear the rest from my own lips. He'll see if this is any way to treat a man!”

The servant went back to the archpriest, who was waiting at the door. “How did it go? How did it go?”

“It was perfect, Father, simply perfect! He's beside himself with rage!”

In a little while here came Fiore so long-faced you could have put a halter on him, and he hadn't shut the door before he launched out against the archpriest, calling him every name under the sun.

“Have you forgotten our agreement,” said the archpriest, “that whoever flew off the handle first would forfeit his sum of money?”

“The Devil take that money too!” shouted Fiore, who packed up and left without the bag of money. The archpriest and his two servants laughed until they cried.

Half starved, exhausted, and angry, Fiore made his way home. His brothers, who were looking out the window as he came into view, knew right away from the expression on his face that he had fared badly.

Once he had satisfied his hunger and thirst, he told them what had happened. Giovanni said, “I bet if I go out I'll return with not only my money but the priest's and yours as well. Tell me where he lives and sit tight.”

So Giovanni went to the archpriest, but he too became so enraged, what with hunger and thirst and that confounded pot and bottle, that he would have forfeited ten additional bags of money if he had had them. He came home as hungry and cross as a bear.

Pírolo, the youngest and most cunning of the three, said, “Let me go, brothers, and I'll be sure to return with your money and every cent of the archpriest's.” The brothers were reluctant for him to go, lest the rest of their father's money be lost, but he begged and pleaded until they finally consented.

He reached the archpriest's house and entered his service. The usual bargain was made, and the archpriest added, “I have three bags of money, which I'm staking against your bag.” They sat down to supper, and Pírolo wisely pocketed all the bread, meat, ham, and cheese he dared.

In the morning he was at work before sunrise. Naturally nobody showed up at breakfast time, so he took out his bread and cheese and ate. Then he went to a farmhouse, introducing himself as the archpriest's field hand, and asked for something to drink. The farmer and his family made a big to-do over him; they asked after the archpriest and chatted for a while, then took Pírolo to the cellar and drew a bowl of their finest wine, which lasted him until dinnertime. He thanked the people, promising to call on them again, and returned to his work in the best of spirits. Neither did anybody show up at dinnertime, but Pírolo had bread, ham, and other meat. Then he went back for more wine and returned to the field singing. As night began to fall, here came a little old woman down the road, the priest's old servant, bringing his dinner. And there was Pírolo singing!

“I'm sorry to be so late, young man . . . ”

“Oh, don't give it a thought!” he replied. “It's never too late to eat.”

At those words the old woman stood stock-still, then took out the pot with the sealed lid. He burst out laughing. “You clever souls! You fixed it so the flies wouldn't get in!” He pried off the lid with his hoe and ate the soup. Next he picked up the bottle, broke the bottleneck, again with his hoe, and drank the wine. When his hunger and thirst were satisfied, he said to the old woman, “You go on back, and i'll be home just as soon as I've finished up out here. Please thank the archpriest for his thoughtfulness.”

The archpriest welcomed the old woman with open arms. “Well? What news?”

“Bad news. That boy is as cheerful as a canary.”

“You just wait,” said the archpriest. “He'll change his tune.”

Pírolo returned and they sat down to supper. All through the meal he joked with the two servants while the archpriest sat there and shuddered.

“What work do you have lined up for me tomorrow?” asked Pírolo.

“Listen,” said the archpriest, “I have a hundred pigs for you to drive to market and sell.”

The next morning Pírolo drove the hundred pigs to market and sold them to the first merchant he met, all except for a sow as big as a cow. But before selling them, he cut off each one's tail and thus went away with ninety-nine pigtails. With money in his pocket now, he headed for home. He stopped in a field along the way, dug countless holes with a trowel, and planted the tails, leaving only their curls showing aboveground. Next he dug a vast hole and buried the sow, leaving only the curl of its tail showing. Then he cried at the top of his voice:

 

“Hurry, hurry, Don Raimondo,

Pigs you own are going to Inferno!