Italian Folktales (36 page)

Downward do they rush to darkest dales;

Left to see are only curly tails!”

 

The archpriest looked out the window, and Pírolo frantically motioned for him to come outside. The archpriest came running.

“Who has ever suffered worse luck? I was here with the herd when I suddenly noticed them going under, right before my eyes. As you can see, they've disappeared all but for their tails! No doubt about it, they're tumbling straight down to Hell! Let's see if we can rescue a few, at least!”

The archpriest began tugging, but ended up with only a handful of tails. Pírolo, though, grabbed hold of the sow's tail and after tugging and tugging brought her out alive and in one piece and squealing like one possessed.

The archpriest was all ready to jump up and down in rage, but remembered the money and checked his anger. “Well, what more can we do but accept it,” he said, feigning unconcern. “Accidents will happen.” But he walked back to the house wringing his hands.

That night Pírolo asked as usual, “What do I have to do tomorrow?”

“I have a hundred sheep to go to market,” replied the archpriest, “but I wouldn't want the same thing to happen that occurred today.”

“Goodness, no!” said Pírolo. “We won't ever be that unlucky again!” The next day he went to market and sold the sheep to a certain merchant, all except one that limped. He pocketed the money and headed for home. When he came to the field of the day before, he picked up a long, long ladder lying there on the ground, propped it against a poplar tree, and carried the lame sheep to the treetop and tied her up. Then he came back down, removed the ladder, and cried at the top of his voice:

 

“Hurry, hurry, Don Carmelo!

Lambs you own are bound for the rainbow!

Left behind in poplar's top

Is the lamb that limps and flops.”

 

The archpriest came running, and Pírolo explained. “I was here with my sheep when all of a sudden I see them leap into the air as if summoned to Paradise. Only that poor crippled one there didn't make it and remained in the treetop.”

The archpriest was as red as a beet, but again managed to feign unconcern. “What can you do but accept it. Those things will happen . . . ”

At supper Pírolo asked what his next task would be, and the archpriest said, “My son, I have no more tasks for you. Tomorrow morning I shall say Mass in a neighboring parish. You can come along and serve Mass.”

The next morning Pírolo rose early, shined the archpriest's shoes, put on a white shirt, washed his face, and went to wake up his employer. They left the house together, but as soon as they got out on the road it began to rain and the archpriest said, “Go back and get my wooden shoes. I don't want to muddy my nice shoes I say Mass in. I'll wait for you under this tree with the umbrella.”

Pírolo ran home and said to the servants, “Quick, where are you? The archpriest said for me to give you both a kiss!”

“Kiss
us
? Have you lost your mind? We can just hear the archpriest saying such a thing!”

“Upon my word, he said to kiss you both! If you don't believe it, I'll let him tell you so himself!” He called out the window to the priest waiting outside, “One, father, or two?”

“Why, both of them, of course!” cried the archpriest. “Both of them!”

“You see?” said Pírolo, who gave them each a kiss. Then he picked up the wooden shoes and ran back to the archpriest, who asked, “What good would just one shoe have done me?”

When he got back home, the archpriest found the servant women sulking. “What's the matter?” he asked.

“What's the matter? You ask us that? What do you mean by giving the boy such orders? If we'd not heard with our own ears, we'd never have believed it!” And they told him about the kiss.

“That's the last straw,” said the archpriest. “I must dismiss him at once.”

“But you can't send field hands away,” replied the servants, “until the cuckoo has sung.”

“We'll just make believe the cuckoo is singing, then.” He called Pírolo and said, “Listen, I have no more work for you, so Godspeed!”

“What!” replied Pírolo. “You know very well that you can't dismiss me before the cuckoo has sung.”

“Very well, to be perfectly fair we'll wait for the cuckoo to sing.”

The old servant killed and plucked a few hens, sewing all the feathers onto a waistcoat and a pair of breeches belonging to the archpriest. She then dressed up in all those feathers and went to the roof that night and sang, “Cuckoo! Cuckoo!”

Pírolo was at the supper table with the archpriest. “Well, bless my soul!” exclaimed the priest. “I do believe I hear the cuckoo singing.”

“Oh, no,” answered Pírolo. “March has scarcely begun, and the cuckoo never sings before May.”

Yet there was no denying it was singing: “Cuckoo! Cuckoo!” Pírolo ran and got the shotgun hanging behind the archpriest's bed, opened the window, and took aim at that big bird singing on the rooftop. “Don't shoot! Don't shoot!” shouted the archpriest, but Pírolo fired away.

Down tumbled the feather-clad servant, riddled with shot.

This time the archpriest was blind with rage. “Pírolo, get out, and don't ever let me see you again!”

“Why? Are you angry, Father?”

“I certainly am!”

“Well, give me the three bags of money, and I'll go.”

So Pírolo went home with four bags of money, in addition to all the proceeds from the sale of the pigs and sheep. He gave his brothers back their shares, opened up a haberdashery with his own, got married, and lived happily ever after.

 

(
Bologna
)

57

A king fell ill and was told by his doctors, “Majesty, if you want to get well, you'll have to obtain one of the ogre's feathers. That will not be easy, since the ogre eats every human he sees.”

The king passed the word on to everybody, but no one was willing to go to the ogre. Then he asked one of his most loyal and courageous attendants, who said, “I will go.”

The man was shown the road and told, “On a mountaintop are seven caves, in one of which lives the ogre.”

The man set out and walked until dark, when he stopped at an inn. When the innkeeper learned of his mission, he said, “How about bringing me a feather too on your way back, since they are so beneficial.”

“I'll be glad to,” replied the king's man.

“And should you talk to the ogre, try and find out something about my daughter. She disappeared years ago and is now goodness knows where.”

In the morning the man continued on his way. He came to a river and called the ferryman to row him to the other side. During the crossing, they got into conversation.

“Will you bring me a feather too?” asked the ferryman. “I know they bring luck.”

“Yes, of course I'll bring you one.”

“And if you have the chance, ask the ogre how come I've been at this job for so many years and can't get off the ferry.”

“I'll certainly ask him.”

The king's man disembarked and continued his journey on foot. At a fountain he sat down to eat a bite of lunch. Two well-dressed noblemen came by and also sat down, and the three of them got to talking.

“Why don't you bring us a feather too,” they said.

“I certainly will.”

“Also, would you ask the ogre something? In our garden is a fountain that once spewed gold and silver, but it has since dried up.”

“I'll ask him why, without fail.”

He moved on and walked until dark, when he knocked at a monastery. Friars answered the door, and he requested shelter.

“Come in, come in.”

After hearing his story, the friars inquired, “But do you know what you are getting into?”

“I was told there are seven caves. At the back of one of them is a door I'm to knock on and be greeted by the ogre.”

“My poor man,” said the prior, “if you are unmindful of all the danger, you'll certainly lose your life. This is no laughing matter. I'll tell you about the ogre, in hopes you'll do us a favor.”

“Of course I will.”

“Listen to me, then. When you get to the mountaintop, you'll see seven caves. The seventh is the ogre's. Go down into that one, all the way to the end, where it will be pitch-dark. We'll give you a candle and matches to light your way. But be sure to go in right at noon, when the ogre is out. You'll find his wife there, a bright girl who will tell you exactly what to do. Beware of the ogre, who would eat you up in a minute.”

“How good of you to tell me all these things I didn't know.”

“Now here's what you are to find out for us. We lived here in peace for no telling how many years. But for the last ten, we've done nothing but wrangle. Some want one thing, others another, there is bickering, and things are always in turmoil. What is the meaning of it?”

The next morning the man scaled the mountain. He was at the top by eleven o'clock and sat down to rest. At the stroke of noon he slipped into the seventh cave. It was pitch-dark, but he lit the candle and discovered a door. The minute he knocked, a beautiful girl opened and asked, “Who are you? What brings you here? You don't know my husband! He eats every human being he sees!”

“I came for some feathers. Since I'm already here, I'll stay and try my luck. If I get eaten, that's that.”

“Listen, I've been here for years and years and can't stand it any longer. Be very careful, and we'll both flee. He must under no circumstances see you, or he'll eat you. I'll hide you under the bed and when he retires for the night, I'll pull out the feathers. How many do you want?”

“Four.” And he told her about king, innkeeper, ferryman, noblemen, friars, and the queries of each.

They talked as they ate their dinner. As it had grown late in the meantime, the young lady began getting the ogre's meal ready. “When he's hungry, he smells humans right away. After eating he no longer notices, luckily for you!”

At six o'clock a great clatter was heard at the door, and the man disappeared under the bed in a flash. In stormed the ogre sniffing and saying:

 

“Here, here,

There're stinking humans here.

There were, there are, they're hiding;

My nose informs me they are near!”

 

“Nonsense!” replied his wife. “Your hunger is making you imagine things. Sit down and eat.”

The ogre ate, but he could still smell a man and went all through the house after dinner looking for him. It was at last bedtime, so they undressed, got under the covers, and the ogre went to sleep at once.

The man under the bed held his breath. “Listen closely,” whispered the woman. “I'm going to pretend to be dreaming and pull out one of his feathers.” She plucked a feather and slipped it under the bed to him.

“Ouch! What do you mean by plucking me?” yelled the ogre.

“Oh, dear, I was dreaming . . . ”

“What were you dreaming?”

“I was dreaming about the monastery down below us. For the last ten years the friars have been so much at odds with one another that it's pure torture to be under one roof together.”

“That's no dream but a fact,” answered the ogre. “The friars are ill-tempered because ten years ago the Devil got into their monastery dressed as a priest.”

“How could they get rid of him?”

“The real friars would have to start doing good deeds. Then they'd spot the Devil in their midst.” At that, the ogre went back to sleep.

A quarter of an hour later, his wife pulled out another feather and passed it to the man under the bed.

“Ouch! That hurt!”

“I was dreaming.”

“Again? What were you dreaming this time?”

“You know the fountain down below us in the garden of those two noblemen, which used to spew gold and silver? I dreamt it had gone dry. What on earth could that mean?”

“All of your dreams are true tonight. The fountain is stopped up and can't spew any more gold and silver. They would have to dig gently down to the mouth of the fountain, where they'd find a ball entwined with a sleeping snake. They would have to crush the snake's head beneath the ball before the snake awakened, and the fountain would spew gold and silver anew.”

Again in a quarter of an hour she plucked another feather. “Ouch! I believe you've made up your mind to pluck me clean tonight.”

“I'm sorry, I was dreaming.”

“What now?”

“A ferryman down there on the river hasn't been able to leave his ferry for years.”

“True. He doesn't realize that he should ferry a man across the river, collect his fare, and disembark before his passenger can. The traveler will then have to remain on the ferry.”

The wife pulled out the fourth feather. “Confound it! What are you about?”

“I'm sorry. I keep on dreaming. I was dreaming of an innkeeper still looking for his daughter, years after her disappearance.”

“You mean your father, because you are that innkeeper's daughter.”

In the morning at six o'clock, the ogre rose, bid his wife goodbye, and went off. The man came out from under the bed with the four feathers wrapped in a package, took the young lady by the arm, and together they fled.

They stopped at the monastery to tell the friars, “The ogre said that one of you is the Devil. You must start doing all the good you can, and he will flee.”

The friars all did one good deed after another until the Devil finally fled.

The couple next stopped by the garden to give the two noblemen a feather and explain to them about the snake. And it wasn't long before the fountain was again spewing gold and silver.