Italian Folktales (120 page)

Still as gullible as ever he again divulged everything, and showed her the cloak. Again she served him drugged wine, and replaced the cloak with another just like it. When he woke up, he wrapped himself in the cloak and, thinking himself invisible, roamed through the palace in search of his purse. But the guards mistook him for a thief, gave him a good thrashing, and threw him out.

Wondering what to do next, the poor boy decided to return to his birthplace and eke out a living the best he could. Upon his arrival he learned that his little brother was a millionaire living in a large palace,
with hordes of servants. “I'll go to my little brother,” he said to himself. “He certainly won't send me away.”

The little brother, who had given him up for dead, welcomed him with open arms and told how he had grown rich. “Just listen to this: our father, as you know, left me the last brick. One day when I was desperate for money I decided to pull the brick out and sell it. Behind the brick I found a horn. As soon as I saw it I had the urge to play it and, when I blew it, out came countless soldiers, saying, ‘At your orders, General!' I removed the horn from my lips, and the soldiers retreated. Realizing now what I could do, I visited towns and cities with my soldiers, fighting battles and wars and collecting all the money I could. When I had enough to last me a lifetime, I came back here and built this palace.”

When the oldest brother heard all that, he begged to borrow the horn, promising to return it as soon as he had finished with it. He took the horn off to a city renowned for its wealth, played it, and watched the soldiers come pouring out. Once the plain was covered with them, he gave the order to plunder the city. The soldiers needed no coaxing, and returned loaded down with gold, silver, and treasures of all kind. So he reappeared before the princess richer than ever.

But he had fallen into the trap twice, and he fell into it once more. He told his secret, and the princess drugged his wine and exchanged horns with him. When he woke up, the king and queen turned him out quite rudely for getting drunk. Deeply mortified, he took his wealth and set out for another town.

As he made his way through a forest, out rushed twelve robbers. He began playing the horn, expecting the soldiers to come flying to his defense; but blow as he would, the robbers took everything and beat him unmercifully for being so presumptuous. They left him lying on the ground half dead but still holding the horn in his mouth and blowing it. Then he realized that it wasn't the magic horn. Believing that he had ruined himself and his brothers, he decided to jump off a cliff.

He looked for an appropriate cliff, went up to its mossy edge, and jumped. But halfway down, a fig tree was jutting out, and he remained hanging from its branches. The tree was laden with black figs. I'll at least die on a full stomach, he thought to himself, and proceeded to eat fig after fig.

He ate ten, twenty, thirty, only to discover he had sprouted a horn for every fig eaten. They grew on his head, on his face, on his nose, and he now had more branches than the tree that held him. As though his case hadn't been hopeless enough before, he now found himself so monstrous that he was more determined than ever to end his life.

He threw himself out of the fig tree and dropped through empty space, but with all those horns, he caught on another fig tree a hundred feet below. It was laden with still more figs than the other tree, but with white figs. “I couldn't possibly sprout another horn—there's no more room; doomed however you look at it, I might as well eat my fill.” At that, he started on the white figs. He'd eaten scarcely three, when he realized he had three horns less. He continued eating and saw that for every white fig he ate, a horn vanished. He ate enough to make them all disappear, and ended up with smoother skin than ever.

When all of his horns were gone, he came down the white fig tree and climbed back up the cliff to the other fig tree. He picked a goodly supply of black figs, tied them up in his scarf, and went off to the city. Disguised as a farmer, he took his figs to the royal palace in a basket. Now this was fruit out of season. The guard immediately called to him and invited him in. The king bought the whole basket, and he took leave, kissing the king's knee.

At noon, the king and his family began eating figs. The fruit especially delighted the princess, who gorged herself with it. They were all too excited to look up from their plates, but when they finally did, they saw each other covered with horns. The princess was a real forest. Terrified, they sent for every surgeon in town, but none of them knew what was wrong with the royal family. The king then issued a proclamation that whoever rid them of these horns would have his every wish granted.

When the fig vendor heard the proclamation, he returned to the white fig tree and picked a heaping basket of fruit, then disguised himself as a surgeon and went before the king.

“Royal Majesty, I can save all of you and remove your horns.”

Hearing that, the princess blurted out, “Majesty, you must have them taken off of me first,” and the king consented.

The surgeon had himself closed up in a room with the princess and removed his disguise. “Do you recognize me, yes or no? Hear what I have to tell you: if you return the purse that produces money, the cloak that makes its wearer invisible, and the horn that turns out soldiers, I will remove all the horns. But if you refuse, I will cause as many more to grow out on you.”

The princess, who couldn't bear those horns a minute longer and who knew this young man still had magic tricks at his command, put her trust in him. “If I give you everything back, you must remove the horns and then marry me,” she said, and handed over purse, cloak, and horn.

He gave her as many white figs as she had horns, and thus turned her back to her former self. Then he performed the same cure on the king, queen, and everybody else with horns in the royal palace. The king gave
him the princess in marriage, and they became man and wife. The cloak and the horn were returned to his brothers, while he kept the money-producing purse and remained the kings's son-in-law for life. The king died a year later, and he and his wife became king and queen.

 

(
Acireale
)

190

I. Giufà and the Plaster Statue

 

There was a mother who had a son that was lazy, foolish, and full of mischief. His name was Giufà. The mother, who was poor, had a piece of cloth, and she said to Giufà, “Take this cloth out and sell it. However, don't let it go to any chatterbox, but only to somebody of few words.”

Giufà took the cloth and went about the town shouting, “Cloth for sale! Cloth for sale!”

A woman stopped him and said, “Let me see it.” She inspected the cloth, then asked, “How much do you want for it?”

“You talk too much,” answered Giufà. “My mother doesn't want to sell it to any chatterbox”—and off he went.

He met a farmer, who asked, “How much do you want for it?”

“Ten crowns.”

“No, that's too much!”

“Talk, talk, talk! You shan't have it!”

Thus, everyone who called or approached him struck him as too talkative, and he refused to sell the cloth to anyone. Going here, there, and yonder, he slipped into a courtyard, in the middle of which stood a plaster statue. Guifà said to it, “Would you like to buy the cloth?” He waited a moment, then repeated, “Do you want to buy this cloth?” Getting no answer, he exclaimed, “At last I've found someone of few words! You bet I'll sell the cloth now.” And he draped it over the statue. “It costs ten crowns. Do you agree? I'll be back tomorrow, then, for the money.” At that, he left the courtyard.

As soon as his mother saw him, she asked about the cloth.

“I sold it.”

“Where's the money?”

“I'm going back for it tomorrow.”

“But is the person trustworthy?”

“She's just the kind of woman you had in mind for the sale. Would you believe she didn't say one word to me?”

The next morning he went to collect the money. He found the statue all right, but the cloth had vanished. “Pay me for it!” said Giufà. The longer he waited for a reply, the angrier he grew. “You took the cloth, didn't you? And now you refuse to pay me? Well, I'll show you a thing or two!” He picked up a hoe and smashed the statue to smithereens. Inside the statue he found a pot of gold. He poured it into his sack and went home to his mother. “Mamma, she didn't want to pay me, so I hit her with the hoe and she gave me all of this.”

Mamma, who was a shrewd woman, replied, “Hand it here, and don't breathe a word about it to anyone.”

 

II. Giufà, the Moon, the Robbers, and the Cops

 

One morning Giufà went out to pick herbs, and before he made it back to town, night had fallen. As he walked along, the moon played hide and seek among the clouds. Giufà sat down on a stone and, watching it appear and disappear, he began saying, “Come out, come out!” followed by “Hide, hide!” Over and over he repeated, “Now come out! “Now hide!”

There by the wayside two thieves happened to be quartering a stolen calf and, upon hearing “Come out!” and “Hide!” they took fright and ran off, thinking the law was after them. And they left the meat right there.

Hearing the robbers flee, Giufà went to see what it was all about and found the quartered calf. He took his knife and went to work on it himself. After filling his sack with meat, he continued on his way.

He got home and called, “Mamma, will you open the door?”

“Is this any hour to be returning?” asked his mother.

“Night overtook me bringing back the meat, and tomorrow you must sell it all, so I'll have some money.”

“Go back to the country tomorrow, and I'll sell the meat for you.”

Next evening when Giufà came home, he asked his mother, “Did you sell the meat?”

“Yes, to the flies, on credit.”

“And when will they pay?”

“When they have something to pay with.”

For a week Giufà waited for the flies to bring him the money. When they didn't, he went to the judge and said, “Your honor, I demand justice. I sold the flies meat on credit, and they have not paid me.”

“Here is the sentence,” said the judge; “when you see a fly, you are authorized to kill it.”

At that very moment a fly lit on the judge's nose, and Giufà drew back his fist and squashed it.

 

III. Giufà and the Red Beret

 

Work didn't suit Giufà. He would eat and then go out to roam the streets. His mother was constantly telling him, “Giufà, that's no way to get ahead in life! Can't you at least make an effort to do something worthwhile? All you do is eat, drink, and drift! I've had enough; either you go to work and buy your own things, or get out!”

Giufà went off to Cassaro Street to get his own things. He picked up one thing at one shop, another at another, and was soon outfitted from head to foot. He promised all the merchants, “Let me have it on credit, and I'll drop in one day before long and pay you.”

For his last purchase, he selected a fine red beret.

When he saw himself all dolled up, he said, “There we are, my mother can't call me a tramp now!” But remembering the bills he had to pay, he decided to play dead.

He threw himself on his bed. “I'm dying! I'm dying! I'm dead!” he cried, and crossed his hands and stretched out his legs. His mother began tearing her hair. “O my son, my son! What a calamity! My son!” At the sound of her cries, people poured in to sympathize with the poor mother. The news spread, and even the merchants came to view the body. “Poor Giufà,” they said, “he owed me”—let us say—“six groats for a pair of pants . . . . I'll wipe that off the books, and may he rest in peace!” And all the merchants came and canceled his debts.

But the merchant who had sold him the red beret let the debt stand. “I refuse to mark off the beret.” He went to view the dead youth and saw him wearing the brand-new beret. He had a bright idea. When the gravediggers carried Giufà off to church to bury him, he followed them, hid in church, and waited for nightfall.

It grew dark and some robbers came into church to divide up a sack of stolen money. Giufà remained motionless in his coffin, while the beret merchant hid behind the door. The robbers shook the money out of the
sack, all in gold and silver coins, and made as many piles of money as there were robbers in church. One twelve-groat piece was left over, and they had no idea which one of them should get it.

“For the sake of peace,” proposed one of the robbers, “let's do this: there's a dead man there who will be our target. Whoever throws the coin right into his mouth wins it.”

“Perfect! Perfect!” they all agreed.

And they all got into place to take aim. Hearing this, Giufà stood up right in the middle of his coffin, and thundered, “Dead souls! Rise up, all of ye!”

The robbers left their money and fled.

Finding himself alone, Giufà ran to the heaps of gold, but at the same moment out jumped the beret merchant and reached for the money. They divided it evenly, until only a five-farthing piece remained.

“I'm taking this,” said Giufà.

“No you're not, I am!”

“It's mine!” insisted Giufà.

“Hands off, it's mine!”

Giufà picked up a candle-snuffer and waved it at the beret man, screaming, “Put the five farthings right here. I'm taking the five farthings!”

Outside, the robbers patrolled the church on tiptoe, to see what the dead would do; they regretted going off and leaving so much money behind. With their ears to the door, they heard the heated squabble over five farthings.

“Woe to us!” they said. “There's no telling how many dead souls have risen from their tombs! They each get scarcely five farthings, and even at that there's not enough to go around!” And they fled at breakneck speed.