Italian Folktales (96 page)

“Three hundred crowns' worth.”

“Here are your three hundred crowns. But think twice next time before thrashing a poor king's daughter. Now out of my sight!”

He dismissed his original betrothed and married Misfortune. For matron of honor he gave her Signora Francisca.

Let us leave the happy couple and turn out attention to Misfortune's
mother. After her daughter's departure, fortune's wheel began to turn in her favor: one day her brother and nephews arrived at the head of a mighty army and reconquered the kingdom. The queen and her children moved back into their old palace and all the comforts and luxuries they had formerly enjoyed. But in the back of their minds they thought of the youngest daughter, of whom they had heard absolutely nothing in all the time she had been gone. Meanwhile the prince, upon learning that Misfortune's mother had regained her kingdom, sent messengers to inform her of his marriage to her daughter. Ever so pleased, the mother set out for her daughter's with knights and ladies-in-waiting. Likewise with knights and ladies-in-waiting, the daughter rode to meet her mother. They met at the border, embraced over and over, with the seven sisters standing around, every bit as moved as their mother, while there was great rejoicing in one kingdom and the other.

 

(
Palermo
)

150

There was once a merchant with five children—four little girls and a boy. The boy was the oldest, a handsome youth by the name of Baldellone. The luck of the merchant shifted, and he went from rich to poor. The only way he could get along now was on charity, and to make matters even worse his wife began expecting another baby. Seeing his parents in such dire straits, Baldellone kissed them goodbye and left for France. He was an educated youth, and when he got to Paris he entered the service of the royal palace and was finally promoted to captain.

Back home, meanwhile, the merchant's wife said to her husband, “The baby is about to be born, and we have no baby things. Let's sell the dining room table, the only thing we have left, so we can get baby things.”

They called in secondhand dealers passing through the street and sold them the table. That way the merchant was able to buy all the necessaries for the baby. The baby was “born, a girl of matchless beauty, and father
and mother were so moved that they burst into tears. “Dear daughter, it breaks our heart to see you born into such poverty!”

The infant grew by leaps and bounds and, when she was about fifteen months old, she began walking all by herself and playing in the straw where her father and mother slept. One day while playing in the straw, she called out, “Mamma, Mamma! Look, look!” and held out hands full of gold pieces.

Her mother couldn't believe her eyes. She took the coins, slipped them into her blouse, called in a baby-sitter, and ran to market. She bought this and that, shopping to her heart's content, and by noon they were finally able to have a real meal, for a change.

“Do tell me, Pippina, where did you get those nice shiny little things?” prodded the baby's father. And she answered, “Right here, Papa,” pointing to a hole in the straw. In it was a jar full of coins. All you had to do was thrust in your hand for it to fill up with money.

So the family was able to hold up its head once more and resume its former way of living. When the child was four, her father said to his wife, “Wife, I think it's time to have a charm put on Pippina. We certainly have the money, so why not have her charmed?”

To have children charmed in those days, people would go halfway to Monreale, to a place where four fairy sisters lived. They took Pippina there in a coach and presented her to the four sisters. The fairies explained what to prepare, agreeing to come to the merchant's house on Sunday for their ceremony.

So on Sunday, right on time, the four sisters arrived in Palermo, where they found everything ready for them. They washed their hands, mixed up a bit of Majorcan flour, made four fine pies, and sent them off to be baked.

In a little while the baker's wife smelled a delightful aroma coming from the oven. Unable to check her gluttony, she pulled out one of the pies and ate it. Then she made another one exactly like it, only with regular flour and water drawn from the trough in which she washed the oven broom. But it rivaled the others in shape, and no one could distinguish it from the original three.

When the pies were back in the merchant's house, the first fairy cut one of them, saying, “I charm you, lovely maiden, so that every time you brush your hair, pearls and other precious stones will come pouring forth.”

“And I,” said the second fairy, cutting another pie, “I charm you to become more lovely yet than you already are.”

The third fairy stood up. “And I charm you so that every fruit out of season you might desire will instantly be there.”

“I charm you,” began the fourth fairy, cutting into the pie filled with oven sweepings, when a cinder flew out of it and landed in her eye. “Ouch! That hurt!” exclaimed the fairy. “Now I'm going to put you under a monstrous spell. When you see the sun, you shall become a black serpent!” At that, the four sisters vanished.

The father and mother burst into tears: their baby girl wouldn't be able to see the sun any more!

But let's leave them and turn to Baldellone, who was bragging in France about his father's vast wealth while, for all he knew, his parents didn't have a penny to their name. But with his constant big talk he impressed everyone; as the proverb says:

 

He who goes abroad

Presents himself as count, duke, or lord.

 

The king of France was curious as to whether there was any truth to all this wealth of Baldellone, so he dispatched a squire to Palermo with instructions on what to observe and report back. The squire went to Palermo, asked for Baldellone's father, and was directed to a handsome palace with countless liveried doormen. He entered and beheld rooms with walls of gold, and valets and servants galore. The merchant gave the squire a royal welcome, invited him to the table and, when the sun had set, brought in Pippina. The squire was charmed at the sight of her; never before had he seen such a lovely maiden. He returned to France and told the king.

The king sent for Baldellone. “Baldellone, go to Palermo, run to your house and fetch me your sister Pippina, whom I wish to marry.”

Baldellone, who didn't even know he had a sister, could make little sense out of all this talk, but he obeyed the king and departed for Palermo. Now in Paris Baldellone had a girl friend, who insisted that he take her with him to Palermo.

Upon his arrival in Palermo, Baldellone found his family prosperous once more. He renewed his old ties with them, met his sister, and announced that the king of France wanted to marry her. That delighted everyone. But when the girl who had come from France with Baldellone saw Pippina, she was consumed with envy and began plotting to undo her and become queen herself.

In a few days, Baldellone had to depart with Pippina. “Goodbye, Papa.” “Goodbye, dear son.” “Farewell, Pippina.” “Farewell, Mamma, so long little sisters.” Then they were off. To reach Paris, one travels first by sea, then overland. Baldellone closed Pippina up in the ship, and never let her see a single ray of sunshine, while his girl friend kept her company. When the ship pulled into port, he had his sister and his friend
taken off board in a large sedan chair sealed against the sun. Baldellone's friend was furious at the thought they were nearing Paris where Pippina would soon become queen, while she herself would be only a captain's wife.

“Pippina,” she began, complaining, “it's stifling in here; let's open a curtain!”

“Please, my sister, you will be my undoing!”

After a while she started up again. “Pippina, I'm burning up in here!”

“No you're not, be calm . . . ”

“Pippina, I'm suffocating.”

“Even so, you know good and well I can't open this thing!”

“Really?” At that, the woman snatched a penknife and rent the leather ceiling of the sedan chair. A ray of sunlight shone straight down upon Pippina, and she changed into a black serpent that went wriggling down into the dusty road and disappeared under a nearby hedge of the king's garden.

Seeing the chair arrive empty, Baldellone let out a cry. “My poor sister! And poor me! How will I ever tell the king, who is expecting her?”

“What are you worrying about?” said his friend. “Tell him I am your sister, and all will be well.” Baldellone ended up doing exactly that.

When the king saw her, he turned up his nose slightly. “Is this the beauty without compare? No matter; a king's promise is a king's promise. I have no choice but to marry her.”

He married her, and they lived together. Baldellone was fit to be tied: not satisfied to deprive him of his sister, that traitress had then abandoned him for the king! The new queen was well aware Baldellone would never forgive her for those two things, so she began scheming to get him out of the way as well.

“Majesty,” she said, “I'm sick and need figs.”

Figs were out of season, and the king replied, “Just where do you expect to find figs this time of year?”

“They are to be had. Tell Baldellone, and he will go after them.”

“Baldellone!”

“Yes, Majesty?”

“Go pick a few figs for the queen.”

“Figs at this time of year, Majesty?”

“In season, out of season, that's all the same to me. I said figs, and figs it must be. Otherwise your head will roll.”

Sad and downcast, Baldellone went to the garden and burst into tears. Lo and behold, out of the flowerbed crawled a black serpent, who asked, “What's the matter?”

“My sister!” exclaimed Baldellone. “Now I too am in great difficulty!” and he informed her of the king's command.

“Oh, that's nothing to fret about. I have special power to bring forth fruit out of season. You want figs, you say? All right!” A beautiful basket of ripe figs appeared.

Baldellone ran to the king at once with them. The queen ate every last one of them, and it's a shame they didn't poison her! Three days later she was hankering for apricots. Pippina the serpent brought forth apricots.

Her next craving was for cherries, so Pippina produced cherries. Then came a call for pears. But we forgot to say that the charm worked for figs, for apricots, and for cherries, but not for pears.

Baldellone was sentenced to die. He asked one last favor: that his grave be dug in the royal garden. “Granted,” replied the king. Baldellone was hanged and buried, and the queen drew a sigh of relief.

One night the gardener's wife awakened and heard a voice in the garden saying:

 

“Baldellone, O dear brother,

Buried here amid dark verdure,

While the author of your fate

Now plays queen to my intended mate.”

 

The woman woke her husband up. They tiptoed outside and saw a dark shadow wriggling away from the captain's tomb.

In the morning, when the gardener went out as usual to make a bouquet of flowers for the king, he found the flowerbeds strewn with pearls and precious stones. He carried them to the king, who was greatly amazed.

The next night the gardener stood watch with his gun. At midnight a shadow loomed beside the tomb, saying:

 

“Baldellone, O dear brother,

Buried here amid dark verdure,

While the author of your fate

Now plays queen to my intended mate.”

 

The gardener took aim and was about to fire, when the shadow said, “Put down your gun! I was baptized and confirmed the same as you were. Come closer and look at me.” So saying, she lifted her veil, showing a face of matchless beauty. Then she undid her braids, and out of her hair poured pearls and precious stones. “Tell the king this,” said the maiden, “and tell him I'll meet him here tomorrow night.” The sky grew light, and the maiden changed into a serpent and wriggled away.

The next night at the usual time the shadow had scarcely appeared and said,

 

Baldellone, O dear brother,

 

when the king went up to her. The maiden lifted her veil and told an amazed king her story.

“Tell me, how can I free you?” said the king.

“Here's what you can do: leave tomorrow on a horse that runs like the wind and go all the way to the Jordan River. Dismount on its bank, and you will see four fairies bathing in the water—one with a green ribbon around her tress, another with a red one, a third with a blue one, and the last with a white one. Take away their clothes lying there on the riverbank. They will want them again, but don't dare give them back! Then the first fairy will throw you her green ribbon, the second her red ribbon, the third her blue ribbon; but only when the fourth fairy has thrown you her white ribbon, and then her tress, shall you return their clothes, for my evil spell by then will be lifted.”

The king needed to hear no more. He left the next morning at dawn and put his kingdom behind him. After traveling a great distance, thirty days and thirty nights later, he reached the Jordan River, found the fairies, and did everything prescribed by Baldellone's sister. When he had the white ribbon and the tress in his hand, he said, “I'm now leaving you, but you can be sure I'll repay you.”

Back in his kingdom, he ran at once to the garden, called the serpent, and stroked her with the tress. Pippina immediately changed back into the most beautiful maiden ever seen. She attached the tress to her hair, and from then on had nothing more to fear.

The king called the gardener and said, “Now listen to what you must do. Take a large ship, put Baldellone's sister on board, and sail off in the night. Return to port a few days later under a foreign flag and leave everything else to me.”