Italian Folktales (62 page)

“What will I do now? What if assassins appeared . . . I'd better climb this tree.” Once he was up the tree he heard a noise. “There they are, help!”

Instead of assassins, out of a hole in the ground climbed a little old woman, then another and another, followed by a whole line of little old women, one right behind the other, who all danced around the tree singing:

 

“Saturday and Sunday!

Saturday and Sunday!”

 

Round and round they went, singing over and over:

 

“Saturday and Sunday!”

 

From his perch in the treetop, the hunchback sang:

 

“And Monday!”

 

The little old women became dead silent, looked up, and one of them said, “Oh, the good soul that has given us that lovely line! We never would have thought of it by ourselves!”

Overjoyed, they resumed their dance around the tree, singing all the while:

 

“Saturday, Sunday,

And Monday!

Saturday, Sunday,

And Monday!”

 

After a few rounds they spied the hunchback up in the tree. He trembled for his life. “For goodness' sakes, little old souls, don't kill me. That line just slipped out. I meant no harm, I swear.”

“Well, come down and let us reward you. Ask any favor at all, and we will grant it.”

The hunchback came down the tree.

“Go on, ask!”

“I'm a poor man. What do you expect me to ask? What I'd really like would be for this hump to come off my back, since the boys all tease me about it.”

“All right, the hump will be removed.”

The old women took a butter saw, sawed off the hump, and nibbed his back with salve, so that it was now sound and scarless. The hump they hung on the tree.

The hunchback who was no longer a hunchback went home, and nobody recognized him. “It can't be you!” said his brother.

“It most certainly is me. See how handsome I've become?”

“How did you do it?”

“Just listen.” He told him about the tree, the little old women, and their song.

“I'm going to them, too,” announced the brother.

So he set out, entered the same woods, and climbed the same tree. At the same time as last, here came the little old women out of their hole singing:

 

“Saturday, Sunday,

And Monday!

Saturday, Sunday,

And Monday!”

 

From the tree the hunchback sang:

 

“And Tuesday!”

 

The old women began singing:

 

“Saturday, Sunday,

And Monday!

And Tuesday!”

 

But the song no longer suited them, its rhythm had been marred.

They looked up, furious. “Who is this criminal, this assassin? We were singing so well and he had to come along and ruin everything! Now we've lost our song!” They finally saw him up in the tree. “Come down, come down!”

“I will not!” said the hunchback, scared to death. “You will kill me!”

“No, we won't. Come on down!”

The hunchback came down, and the little old women grabbed his brother's hump hanging on a tree limb and stuck it on his chest. “That's the punishment you deserve!”

So the poor hunchback went home with two humps instead of one.

 

(
Florence
)

91

A woman was cooking some chickpeas. A needy girl passed by and begged for a bowl of them. “If I give them to you,” replied the woman, “what will I then eat myself?” At that, the poor girl cursed her. “May all the peas in the pot become so many children for you!” Then she continued on her way.

The fire went out, and from the pot, like chickpeas boiling over, popped one hundred little boys as tiny as peas screaming, “Mamma, I'm hungry! Mamma, I'm thirsty! Mamma, pick me up!” They scattered into all the drawers, ovens, and pots. Frightened out of her wits, the woman
scooped up these little creatures by the handful, thrust them into her mortar, and crushed them with the pestle as though she were making mashed peas. When she thought she'd finally slain them all, she began getting dinner for her husband. But reflecting on what she'd done, she burst into tears, saying, “If only I'd spared the life of at least one of them! He'd now be a help to me and take his father's dinner to the shop!”

Just then, she heard a tiny voice. “Don't cry, Mamma, I'm still here!” It was one of the little sons, who'd escaped death by hiding behind the handle of the jug.

The woman was overjoyed. “Come here, my dear! What is your name?”

“Pete,” replied the child, sliding down the jug and landing on the table.

“Well done, my little Pete!” exclaimed the woman. “You are now to go to the shop with your father's dinner.” She put everything into the basket and set it on Pete's head.

Pete left, and all you saw was the basket, which looked as though it were walking by itself. He asked a couple of people the way, scaring the life out of them, for they thought the basket itself was talking. Finally he reached the shop and called, “Papa, I've brought your dinner to you.”

“Who's that calling me?” wondered his father. “I've never had any children!” He came out and saw the basket, under which a tiny voice was heard. “Papa, lift the basket and you will see me. I'm your son Pete, born this very morning.”

The man lifted the basket, and there stood Pete. “Well done, Pete!” said his father, who was a locksmith. “You will now come round to the farmers' houses with me to see if they've anything that needs mending.” At that, the father put Pete into his pocket, and off they went. They talked without stopping along the way, and everybody thought the man had lost his mind to be talking to himself that way.

He asked around at the different houses, “Do you have anything to be repaired?”

“We do indeed,” he was told, “but we wouldn't trust a crazy man like you to mend a thing.”

“Crazy? What do you mean? I'm much smarter than you any time.”

“Well, why do you constantly talk to yourself as you go from place to place?”

“That's not true. I was talking to my son.”

“Just where is this son?”

“In my pocket.”

“You see what we meant? You are crazy.”

“Look here!” he said, reaching into his pocket and bringing his hand out with Pete straddling one of his fingers.

“Oh, what a fine little man! Please hire him out to us to keep watch over our ox.”

“Would you like that, Pete?”

“Yes, I would.”

“Well, I'll leave you here and stop by for you tonight.”

Pete was placed on one of the ox's horns, and it looked as though the ox was in the field unguarded. Two thieves came by and decided to steal it. But Pete cried, “Farmer, farmer, come quick!”

The farmer came running, and the thieves asked, “My good man, where is that voice coming from?”

“Oh, that's Pete talking. Don't you see him perched up there on the ox's horn?”

The thieves spotted Pete and said to the farmer, “Let us have him a few days and we'll make you rich.” The farmer sent Pete off with the thieves.

With Pete in their pocket, the thieves went to the king's stable to steal horses. The stable was locked, but Pete crawled through the keyhole, opened the door, untied the horses, and came outside with them, hidden in one of the horse's ears. The thieves, who were waiting for him, mounted the horses and galloped home, where they said to Pete, “We're tired and will go to bed. You give the horses their oats.”

Pete started fastening feedbags onto the horses, but he was so sleepy that he fell into one of the bags and went fast asleep. Unaware he was in there, the horse ate him up along with the oats.

When he didn't come back, the thieves went down to the stable to look for him. “Pete, where are you?”

“Here I am,” replied a tiny voice. “I'm in the belly of one of the horses.”

“Which one?”

“This one right here!”

The thieves slit open a horse, but he wasn't in it. “No, it's not this one. Which horse are you in?”

“In this one!” So the thieves slit open another horse.

They went on slitting open horses until they had killed every last one of them, but they still didn't find Pete. They were tired by then and said, “That's a crying shame! He was so useful to us, and now we've gone and lost him! To make matters worse, we've lost all the horses too!” They dragged the carcasses into the field and went back to bed.

A hungry wolf came by, spied the butchered horses, and had quite a feast. Pete still happened to be hiding in the belly of one of the horses,
and the wolf swallowed him with all the rest. There he was in the wolf's belly now, and when the wolf got hungry again and headed for a nanny goat tethered in a field, Pete began yelling inside the wolf's belly, “Wolf, wolf!” until the owner of the goat heard and put the wolf to flight.

The wolf said, “What's the matter with me to be making these sounds? I must have gas on my stomach!” and he began breaking wind.

There, it's all gone, he thought. Now I'll go and eat a sheep.

But when he neared the sheepfold, Pete started up again in his belly, crying “Wolf, wolf!” until he'd awakened the shepherd.

The wolf was worried. “I still have gas making all that noise inside me,” and he went back to breaking wind. He broke wind once, then again, and the third time Pete too slipped out and hid behind a bush. Thus unburdened, the wolf returned to the sheepfold.

Three robbers came by and sat down to count the money they'd stolen. “One, two, three, four, five,” said one. From his hiding place, Pete mimicked him. “One two three four five . . . ”

The robber said to his companions, “Shut up, you're confusing me. One more word out of you, and I'll let you have it.” Then he started over: “One, two, three, four, five . . . ”

“One two three four five,” piped Pete.

“You didn't hear what I said? Now you'll see!”

He killed him and turned to the other robber. “You'll get the same thing if you make a sound.” Again he started over. “One, two, three, four, five . . . ”

Pete repeated: “One two three four five . . . ”

“That wasn't me, I swear!” said the other robber.

“Don't try to fool me! Now it's your turn,” and he killed him. “At last I can count the money in peace and keep every penny for myself. One, two, three, four, five . . . ”

“One two three four five,” piped Pete.

The robber's hair stood straight up. “There's somebody hiding around here. I'd better flee.” He fled, leaving all the money right there.

Carrying the bag of money on his head, Pete went home and knocked on the door. His mother opened up and saw nothing but the bag of money. “Pete!” she exclaimed. She lifted the bag, and there stood her son, whom she embraced.

 

(
Florence
)

92

A king and a queen had two sons and a little girl who was the apple of their eye. They always gave her all their love, and even had a nursemaid just for her in the palace. Now the king was taken sick one day and died. The queen looked after the kingdom for a while afterward, but then she, too, fell ill. At death's door, she entrusted her two sons with the care of their little sister, after which she drew her last breath and died.

In the meantime the little girl had grown up without ever leaving the palace. Her sole pastimes were gazing out of the window at the countryside, singing softly, chatting with the nursemaid who was now her governess, and embroidering. One day as she stood at the window, a peacock emerged from the woods, flew up, and lit on the window ledge. The girl made a big to-do over him, serving him birdseed and inviting him inside. “How handsome he is!” she exclaimed. “Until I've found the king of the peacocks, I'll not marry!” She kept the peacock with her all the time, but shut him up in a wardrobe whenever anyone came in.

It wasn't long before the brothers remarked to one another, “Our dear little sister never wants to go out of the house. If that continues, she will be in a bad way. Let's see if she wishes a husband.” They went to her and made known their thoughts. “As long as you are unmarried, we will not get married ourselves. Do you feel like taking a husband?”

“No, I don't.”

“You just think you don't. Look at these portraits here of all the kings, pick out the one you like, and we'll ask him if he wants you.”

“I tell you I want no husband . . . ”

“For our sake, will you make a choice?”

“If you insist, I will. But the choice must be mine.”

“Of course.”

At that, the sister opened the wardrobe and brought out the peacock. “See this?”

“Yes, it is a handsome peacock.”

“I'll not marry until I find the king of the peacocks.”

“Where is he?”

“I've no idea, but I will marry only him.”

“In that case we'll try to find him.” They entrusted the girl to her governess, chose a reliable governor to look after the kingdom, and each went their separate way in search of the king of the peacocks.

They asked all around, but no one had ever heard of the king and took
them for fools. But the two youths didn't give up hope and continued their search. One evening the older boy met an old man who was part-sorcerer. “Tell me, is there a king of the peacocks?”