Read Italian Folktales Online

Authors: Italo Calvino

Italian Folktales (59 page)

BOOK: Italian Folktales
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More taken aback than ever, they stammered, “Uh . . . we were . . . uh, we weren't saying anything.”

“Weren't you saying you wanted to get married?” prompted the king. And he kept on until the eldest finally repeated what she'd said about wanting to marry the baker. “Very well, you shall have him,” said the king. So the eldest girl got the baker for her husband.

The middle girl admitted she wanted the vintner. “Your wish is granted,” said the king, and he gave her the vintner.

“And you?” he asked the youngest. Blushing from head to toe, she told him what she had said last night.

“If your wish to marry me came true, would you keep your promise?”

“I would do my best,” said the girl.

“In that case you shall become my wife, and we'll see which of you girls is the most faithful to her word.”

It galled the elder sisters, the baker's and vintner's wives, to be now so much lower in station than their lucky little sister-turned-queen-overnight, and their envy deepened when they learned that the queen was with child.

Meanwhile, the king had to go to war against his cousin. “Remember your promise,” he said to his wife as he departed, leaving her in the care of his sisters-in-law.

While he was at war, his wife gave birth to a rosy-cheeked, goldenhaired boy. How do you think her sisters reacted to that? They took the baby away and put a monkey in its place. They gave the baby to an old woman to drown. The old woman took the baby to the river in a basket. Reaching the bridge, she heaved her burden over the railing, basket and all.

The basket floated downstream and was soon seen by a boatman, who rowed after it. He caught hold of it, saw that beautiful child, and took him home to his wife to nurse.

To the king on the battlefield the sisters sent word that his wife had given birth to a monkey rather than a rosy-cheeked, golden-haired baby boy, and they wanted to know what they should do. “No matter whether it is a monkey or a baby boy,” replied the king, “take care of my wife.”

When the war was over he came home, but he no longer felt the same toward his wife. He still loved her, of course; but he was disappointed she hadn't kept her promise. Meanwhile the wife found herself expecting another child, and the king hoped things would go better this time.

But to get back to the first baby, the boatman happened to notice the little boy's hair one day. He said to his wife, “Just look at it! Doesn't it look like gold?”

The wife agreed. “It certainly does. It is gold!” They cut off a lock and went out and sold it. The goldsmith weighed it on his scales and paid them a gold sequin for it. From then on, the boatman and his wife would cut off a lock of the boy's hair every day and sell it. In no time they were rich.

Meanwhile the king's cousin started another war, and the king went off and left his wife awaiting their second child. “Remember your promise!” he told her as he departed.

This time too, while the king was away, the queen gave birth to a rosy-cheeked, golden-haired baby boy. Her sisters took the baby away and put a dog in its place. The baby was given to the same old woman, who threw him into the river in a basket, like his brother.

“What's going on?” asked the boatman upon seeing a second baby land in the river. Then he realized that this boy's hair would double their fortune.

Still at war, the king heard from his sisters-in-law. “This time, Majesty, your wife was delivered of a dog. Write us what to do with her.” By way of reply, the king wrote: “No matter whether the dog is male or female, take good care of my wife.” At last he came back to town very longfaced. But he truly loved his wife and still hoped that things would go well the third time.

As luck would have it, the cousin declared a third war, again while the queen was with child. The king had no choice but to go. He said to his wife, “Farewell, and remember your promise. You failed to give me the two golden-haired boys. Try to give me the little girl with the star on her brow.”

She bore the baby girl, a beautiful rosy-cheeked, golden-haired child with a star on her brow. The old woman got her little basket ready and threw the baby into the river. The sisters put a small tiger cub in bed in its place. They wrote the king about the tiger that had been born and asked what he wanted done with his wife. He wrote back: “Whatever you like, just so I never see her in the palace again upon my return.”

The sisters pulled her out of bed and carried her down to the cellar. There they walled her up, leaving only an opening for her head. Every day they took her a morsel of bread and a glass of water, then each of them gave her a slap in the face: that was her daily meal. Her rooms were walled up, and no trace at all was left of her. When the war was over and the king came home, he never mentioned her, nor did anyone else. He was now sad all the time.

The boatman, who had also found the little basket containing the baby girl, now had three fine children, who grew by leaps and bounds. With their golden hair, he amassed quite a fortune. One day he said, “We must now think about their future, poor dears, and build them a palace, for they are growing up.” So, right across from the king's, he had an even larger palace built, with a garden that included all the wonders of the world.

Meanwhile the boys had become young men, and the girl a graceful young lady. The boatman and his wife had died, and the children lived together in this handsome palace, rich beyond belief. As they always wore their hats, no one knew they had hair of gold.

From the windows of the king's palace, the baker's and vintner's wives would gaze at them, never dreaming they were the young people's aunts. One morning these aunts saw the brothers and their little sister without their hats on, seated on a balcony, and cutting each other's hair. It was a
sunny morning, and the golden hair gleamed so brightly that it blinded you. The thought suddenly occurred to the aunts that these might be their sister's children who had been thrown into the river. They began spying on them regularly, observing that they cut their hair every morning only to have it long again the next day. From then on, the two aunts were on pins and needles because of their crimes.

At the same time, the king, too, had taken to studying the neighboring garden and the children that lived there. He thought to himself, Those are just the kind of children I wanted my wife to give me. They look exactly like the ones she promised me. But he hadn't seen their golden hair, since they always kept their heads covered.

He got into conversation with them. “What a wonderful garden you have!”

“Majesty,” replied the girl, “we have here in this garden all the beautiful things in existence. If you deem us worthy of the honor, you are welcome to walk here.”

“With great pleasure. Since we are neighbors, why don't you come to my palace for dinner tomorrow?”

“Oh, Majesty,” they said, “that would inconvenience the entire court too much.”

“No,” insisted the king, “your visit will make us very happy.”

“In that case, we accept and will be there tomorrow.”

When the sisters-in-law learned of the invitation, they flew to the old woman supposed to have murdered the poor little things. “Menga, what did you really do with those babies?”

“I threw them into the river, basket and all, but the basket was light and remained afloat. I didn't stay to see whether it ever sank or not.”

“Wretch!” exclaimed the aunts. “The children are alive, and the king has seen them. If he learns who they are, we are done for. You must keep them from coming to the palace and do away with them once and for all.”

“I will,” replied the old woman.

Disguised as a beggar woman, she paused before the gate of their garden. Just then the girl was looking around her property and saying, as usual, “What does our garden lack? Nothing, for we have right here every beautiful thing in existence!”

“Ah, you say you have everything?” asked the old woman. “I know of one thing you lack, my child.”

“What thing?”

“The dancing water.”

“Where can you get . . . ” began the child, but the old woman had disappeared. The girl burst into tears. “And here I thought we had every
thing in our garden, but . . . but we don't have the dancing water. The dancing water . . . . There's no telling how lovely it is!” And on and on she sobbed.

Coming home and finding her so upset, her brothers asked, “What's the matter? Why do you weep?”

“Please, leave me alone. I was here in the garden saying to myself that we had every beautiful thing in existence, when an old woman came to the gate and said, ‘You think you have everything, but you have no dancing water.'”

“Is that all you're crying about?” asked the elder brother. “I'll go and get it myself, so you'll be happy.” He removed the ring he was wearing and slipped it on his sister's finger. “If the stone changes color, that's a sign I am dead.” He then mounted his horse and galloped off.

He had already gone a good way when he met a hermit, who asked, “Where are you going, my lad?”

“I am seeking the dancing water.”

“My poor child!” answered the hermit. “They are sending you to your death. Are you unaware of the danger of the quest?”

“However dangerous it is, I must find the water.”

“Listen to me, then,” said the hermit. “Do you see that mountain? Scale it and you will come to a large plateau, in the middle of which rises a beautiful palace. Before the front door stand four giants holding swords. Watch out: if their eyes are closed you must not go past them. Is that clear? But when their eyes open, then you can go in. About the door: if it's open, don't go in; if it's closed, then push it open and walk in. You will come upon four lions: if their eyes are closed, don't go past them; pass only when their eyes open and you will come to the dancing water.” The boy bid the hermit farewell, mounted his horse, and rode up the mountain.

Up there he found the palace with the front door open and the four giants with their eyes closed. “Yes, indeed, wait . . . ” he told himself. The instant the giants opened their eyes and the front door closed, he went in. He waited for the lions also to open their eyes and moved past them. There was the dancing water. The boy filled the bottle he had brought along, and the minute the lions reopened their eyes, he took to his heels.

Just imagine the joy of the little sister, who'd spent all those days anxiously watching the ring, when her brother walked in with the dancing water. They hugged and kissed, then they placed two golden basins in the garden and poured into them the dancing water, which, to the little girl's great delight, leaped from one basin to the other. She was sure she now had every beautiful thing in existence right there in her garden.

The king passed by and wanted to know why they had not come to dinner; he had waited and waited for them. The little girl explained that their garden had lacked the dancing water, so her older brother had been obliged to fetch it. The king had much praise for the new addition and extended the three young people another invitation for the following day. The old woman, sent back by the aunts, saw the dancing water and felt her blood boil. “You have the dancing water now, but you still don't have the musical tree,” she said to the little girl and vanished.

The brothers came home. “If you love me, dear brothers, you must bring me the musical tree.”

This time it was the second brother's turn to say, “Why, of course, my little sister. I'll go and get it for you.”

He gave his sister his ring, mounted his horse, and galloped all the way to the hermit who had helped his brother.

“Oh!” exclaimed the hermit. “The musical tree is a hard nut to crack. Here's what you have to do: scale the mountain, beware of the giants, the front door, and the lions, just as your brother did. You will then come to a little door with a pair of scissors over it. If the scissors are closed, don't go through the door. If they are open, go on through. You will then come upon a huge tree making music with its every leaf. Climb the tree and break off its highest branch. Plant it in your garden, and it will take root there.”

The youth went up the mountain, found every sign favorable, and went in. He made his way up the tree through all the musical leaves and got the highest branch. Accompanied by its melody, he returned home.

When it was planted, the branch became the most beautiful tree in the garden, filling it with its music.

The king, who was rather outdone over the children's failure to show up the second time, was so delighted with that music that he reinvited all three of them for the next day.

The aunts at once dispatched the old woman. “You're satisfied with the advice I gave you? The dancing water, the musical tree! Now all you need is the fine Greenbird, and you will possess every beautiful thing in existence.”

Here came the boys. “Little brothers, who is going after the fine Greenbird for me?”

“I am,” replied the oldest, and he was off.

“This is truly unfortunate,” said the hermit. “So many have gone after it, and no one has come back Go to the same mountain, enter the same palace, and you will find a garden full of marble statues. They are noble knights who, like you, tried to capture the fine Greenbird. Flying through the trees in the garden are hundreds of birds. The fine Greenbird is the
one that talks. He will speak to you, but don't dare answer, regardless of what he says.”

The youth made it to the garden full of statues and birds. The fine Greenbird perched on his shoulder and said, “So you too have come, my good knight? And you think you can catch me? You are mistaken. Your aunts send you here to your death, and they keep your mother walled up alive . . . ”

“My mother walled up alive!” exclaimed the youth, and as he spoke he immediately became a marble statue.

BOOK: Italian Folktales
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