Italian Folktales (125 page)

But John was not to be persuaded. He would accept nothing at all, and resumed his travels through the world.

After going a good way, he came to the kingdom of the Amazons. As everyone knows, the Amazons, famous women warriors, had their own kingdom, headed by a queen, and no man was allowed inside their boundaries. Whoever fell into their hands was cut into pieces and fed to the dogs, while his hide was used to make drums. The queen of the Amazons was a cruel woman who had never smiled or laughed in her whole life.

John Balento landed in their midst. The Amazons captured him, threw him into chains, and dragged him before the queen. The court of the Amazons with all those horses was full of flies. The horses swished their tails, the Amazons fanned themselves with fans; but John, who was in chains and unable to move, had flies all over him.

“You are as good as dead!” announced the queen. “Such is our law. Why did you enter my kingdom?”

Hanging his head, John said to himself, “O my awls, my thread, my bench! If I'd stuck by you, I wouldn't be in all this mess now!”

“Listen,” continued the queen, “I don't like to kill a poor youth as though he were a dog. Speak the truth, and your life will be spared: did you really and truly slay a thousand and wound live hundred?”

“In one blow, Majesty.”

“How did you do it?”

“Take off my chains, and I'll show you.”

The queen ordered the chains removed at once. All around him, on horseback, the Amazons stared at him. There wasn't a sound, save that of the horsetails and the fans and the buzz of the flies.

“How did I do it? Like this!”—and John Balento swung his fist through the flies swarming about him and killed them all. “Count them.”

“So they were flies! Oh, me, Oh, my!” And all the Amazons burst out laughing, holding their sides and rocking on the backs of their horses. The one who laughed loudest was the queen. “Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! Mercy me! Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! Ouch! I've never laughed so much . . . John Balento, you are the first person in my whole life to make me
laugh! And with your skill in killing flies, you are a real godsend for my kingdom! Stay with us and you will be my husband.”

The nuptials were celebrated amid gala festivities and balls, and the cobbler became king of the Amazons.

 

So goes my little tale.

Now it is your turn

All of us to regale.

 

(
Corsica
)

200

Many, many years ago, in the barren mountains of Niolo, lived a father with twelve sons. A famine was raging, and the father said, “My sons, I have no more bread to give you. Go out into the world, where you will certainly fare better than here at home.”

The eleven older boys were getting ready to leave, when the twelth and youngest, who was lame, started weeping. “And what will a cripple like me do to earn his bread?”

“My child,” said his father, “don't cry. Go with your brothers, and what they earn will be yours as well.”

So the twelve promised to stay together always and departed. They walked a whole day, then a second, and the little lame boy fell constantly behind. On the third day, the oldest brother said, “Our little brother Francis, who's always lagging, is nothing but a nuisance! Let's walk off and leave him on the road. That will be best for him too, for some kind-hearted soul will come along and take pity on him.”

So they stopped no more to wait for him to catch up, but walked on, asking alms of everyone they met, all the way to Bonifacio.

In Bonifacio they saw a boat moored at the dock. “What if we climbed in and sailed to Sardinia?” said the oldest boy. “Maybe there's less hunger there than in our land.”

The brothers got into the boat and set sail. When they were halfway across the straits, a fierce storm arose and the boat was dashed to pieces on the reefs, and all eleven brothers drowned.

Meanwhile the little cripple Francis, exhausted and frantic when he missed his brothers, screamed and cried and then fell asleep by the roadside. The fairy guardian of that particular spot had seen and heard everything from a treetop. As soon as Francis was asleep, she came down the tree, picked certain special herbs, and prepared a plaster, which she smoothed on the lame leg; immediately the leg became sound. Then she disguised herself as a poor little old woman and sat down on a bundle of firewood to wait for Francis to wake up.

Francis awakened, got up, prepared to limp off, and then realized he was no longer lame but could walk like everyone else. He saw the little old woman sitting there, and asked, “Madam, have you by chance seen a doctor around here?”

“A doctor? What do you want with a doctor?”

“I want to thank him. A great doctor must certainly have come by while I was sleeping and cured my lame leg.”

“I am the one who cured your lame leg,” replied the little old woman, “since I know all about herbs, including the one that heals lame legs.”

As pleased as Punch, Francis threw his arms around the little old woman and kissed her on both cheeks. “How can I thank you, ma'am? Here, let me carry your bundle of wood for you.”

He bent over to pick up the bundle, but when he stood up, he faced not the old woman, but the most beautiful maiden imaginable, all radiant with diamonds and blond hair down to her waist; she wore a deep blue dress embroidered with gold, and two stars of precious stones sparkled on her ankle-boots. Dumbfounded, Francis fell at the fairy's feet.

“Get up,” she said. “I am well aware that you are grateful, and I shall help you. Make two wishes, and I will grant them at once. I am the queen of the fairies of Lake Creno, mind you.”

The boy thought a bit, then replied, “I desire a sack that will suck in whatever I name.”

“And just such a sack shall you have. Now make one more wish.”

“I desire a stick that will do whatever I command.”

“And just such a stick shall you have,” replied the fairy, and vanished. At Francis's feet lay a sack and a stick.

Overjoyed, the boy decided to try them out. Being hungry, he cried, “A roasted partridge into my sack!” Zoom! A partridge fully roasted flew into the sack. “Along with bread!” Zoom! A loaf of bread came sailing into the sack. “Also a bottle of wine!” Zoom! There was the bottle of wine. Francis ate a first-rate meal.

Then he set out again, limping no longer, and the next day he found himself in Mariana, where the most famous gamblers of Corsica and the Continent were meeting. Francis didn't have a cent to his name, so he
ordered, “One hundred thousand crowns into my sack!” and the sack filled with crowns. The news spread like wildfire through Mariana that the fabulously wealthy prince of Santo Francesco had arrived.

At that particular time, mind you, the Devil was especially partial to the city of Mariana. Disguised as a handsome young man, he beat everybody at cards, and when the players ran out of money, he would purchase their souls. Hearing of this rich foreigner who went by the name of prince of Santo Francesco, the Devil in disguise approached him without delay. “Noble prince, pardon my boldness in coming to you, but your fame as a gambler is so great that I couldn't resist calling on you.”

“You put me to shame,” replied Francis. “To tell the truth, I don't know how to play any game at all, nor have I ever had a deck of cards in my hand. However, I would be happy to play a hand with you, just for the sake of learning the game, and I'm sure that with you as a teacher I'll be an expert in no time.”

The Devil was so gratified by the visit that, upon taking leave and bowing goodbye, he negligently stretched out a leg and showed his cloven hoof. “Oh, me!” said Francis to himself. “So this is old Satan himself who has honored me with a visit. Very well, he will meet his match.” Once more alone, he commanded of the sack a fine dinner.

The next day Francis went to the casino. There was a great turmoil, with all the people crowded around one particular spot. Francis pushed through and saw, on the ground, the body of a young man with a bloodstained chest. “He was a gambler,” someone explained, “who lost his entire fortune and thrust a dagger into his heart, not a minute ago.”

All the gamblers were sad-faced. But one, noted Francis, stood in their midst laughing up his sleeve; it was the Devil who had paid Francis a visit.

“Quick!” said the Devil, “let's take this unfortunate man out, and get on with the game!” And they all picked up their cards once more.

Francis, who didn't even know how to hold the cards in his hand, lost everything he had with him that day. By the second day he knew a little bit about the game, but lost still more than the day before. By the third day he was an expert, and lost so much that everyone was sure he was ruined. But the loss did not trouble him in the least, since there was his sack he could command and then find inside all the money he needed.

He lost so much that the Devil thought to himself, He might have been the richest man in existence to start with, but he's surely about to end up now with nothing to his name. “Noble prince,” he said, taking him aside, “I can't tell you how sorry I am over the misfortune that has befallen you. But I have good news for you: heed my words and you will recover half of what you lost!”

“How?”

The Devil looked around, then whispered, “Sell me your soul!”

“Ah!” cried Francis. “So that's your advice to me, Satan? Go on, jump into my sack!”

The Devil smirked and aimed to flee, but there was no escape: he flew head-first into the yawning sack, which Francis closed, then addressed the stick, “Now pound him for all you're worth!”

Blows rained fast and furious. Inside, the Devil writhed, cried, cursed. “Let me out! Let me out! Stop, or you'll kill me!”

“Really? You'll give up the ghost? Would that be a loss, do you think?” And the stick went right on beating him.

After three hours of that shower, Francis spoke. “That will do, at least for today.”

“What will you take in return for setting me free?” asked the Devil in a weak voice.

“Listen carefully: if you want your freedom back, you must bring back to life at once every one of those poor souls who killed themselves in the casino because of you!”

“It's a bargain!” replied the Devil.

“Come on out, then. But remember, I can catch you again any time I feel like it.”

The Devil dared not go back on his word. He disappeared underground and, in almost no time, up came a throng of young men pale of face and with feverish eyes. “My friends,” said Francis, “you ruined yourselves gambling, and the only way out was to kill yourselves. I was able to have you brought back this time, but I might not be able to do so another time. Will you promise me to gamble no more?”

“Yes, yes, we promise!”

“Fine! Here are a thousand crowns for each of you. Go in peace, and earn your bread honestly.”

Overjoyed, the revived youths departed, some returning to families in mourning, others striking out on their own, their past misdeeds having been the death of their parents.

Francis, too, thought of his old father. He set out for his village but, along the way, met a boy wringing his hands in despair.

“How now, young man? Do you make wry faces for sale?” asked Francis, in high spirits. “How much are they by the dozen?”

“I don't feel like laughing, sir,” replied the boy.

“What's the matter?”

“My father's a woodcutter and the sole support of our family. This morning he fell out of a chestnut tree and broke his arm. I ran into town for the doctor, but he knows we are poor and refused to come.”

“Is that all that's worrying you? Set your mind at rest. I'll take care of things.”

“You're a doctor?”

“No, but I'll make that one come. What is his name?”

“Doctor Pancrazio.”

“Fine! Dr. Pancrazio, jump into my sack!”

Into the sack, headfirst, went a doctor with all his instruments.

“Stick, pound him for all you're worth!” And the stick began its dance. “Help! Mercy!”

“Do you promise to cure the woodcutter free of charge?”

“I promise whatever you ask.”

“Get out of the sack, then.” And the doctor ran to the woodcutter's bedside.

Francis continued on his way and, in a few days, came to his village, where even greater hunger now raged than before. By constantly repeating, “Into my sack a roasted chicken, a bottle of wine,” Francis managed to provision an inn where all could go and eat their fill without paying a penny.

He did this for as long as the famine lasted. But he stopped, once times of plenty returned, so as not to encourage laziness.

Do you think he was happy, though? Of course not! He was sad without any news of his eleven brothers. He had long since forgotten them for running off and leaving him, a helpless cripple. He tried saying, “Brother John, jump into my sack!”

Something stirred inside the sack. Francis opened it and found a heap of bones.

“Brother Paul, jump into my sack!”

Another heap of bones.

“Brother Peter, jump into my sack!” Calling them all, up to the eleventh, he found each time, alas, only a little pile of bones half gnawed in two. There was no doubt about it: his brothers had all died together.

Francis was sad. His father also died, leaving him all alone. Then it was his turn to grow old.

His last remaining desire before dying was to see again the fairy of Lake Creno who had made him so prosperous. He therefore set out and reached the place where he had first met her. He waited and waited, but the fairy did not come. “Where are you, good queen? Please appear one more time! I can't die until I've seen you again!”

Night had fallen and there was still no sign of the fairy. Instead, here came Death down the road. In one hand she held a black banner and, in the other, her scythe. She approached Francis, saying, “Well, old man,
are you not yet weary of life? Haven't you been over enough hills and dales? Isn't it time you did as everyone else and came along with me?”