Latin American Folktales (21 page)

47. The Mad King

An evil-minded king woke up one morning in a frenzy. As soon as he settled his wits he announced he would get rid of all the old people in his kingdom. He called his soldiers and gave the order, “Heads of gray, let them roll!”

The order was carried out. All the old people were beheaded with the exception of one man who took cover at his son’s ranch far out in the bush. Rumors of an escape filtered back to court. The king sent soldiers deep into the countryside to find out if the stories were true and to take no mercy on the lone survivor.

The soldiers arrived at the ranch where the old father was hiding. They turned the house upside down, but in vain. The son had hidden his father in a bunker outside.

The soldiers returned empty-handed. “It’s no use, Your Majesty. The old man is lying low.” Furious, the king ordered the son brought to the palace. When the son arrived, he denied everything. The king, who was no fool, asked, “You live in the bush?”

“Yes, sire.”

“Then find me the herb-of-all-cures. Bring it here tomorrow or you’ll be skinned alive.”

The young man went back to the ranch and told his wife what the king had commanded. “You’d better ask your father,” she said. And he ran to his father’s hideout. “Father, I must find the herb-of-all-cures.”

“That’s easy,” said the old man. He explained where it grew, and his son brought it to the palace next day, still fresh. The king’s suspicions were strengthened. He thought, “Only a wise elder would know where to find the herb-of-all-cures.” Then he proposed another test: “Bring me the king-of-all-birds, and do it by this time tomorrow or you’ll be strung up!”

The son ran back to the bush. “Father,” he said, “I must catch the king-of-all-birds or they’ll string me up.”

“But it’s easy,” said the old man. He explained where to find the bird, and his son brought it to the palace in the nick of time.

The king now knew the son had lied. Only an elder would have been able to find the king-of-all-birds. Not to be defied, the king set a trap to catch the young man once and for all. He demanded, “Come back tomorrow. And when I see you, you’ll have to be inside and outside the palace. Otherwise, death!”

“Father, how can I be inside the palace and outside the palace?” asked the son when he got back to the father’s hiding place. The father explained how it could be done, and when the son appeared in front of the king the next day, he had tied one end of a rope to the edge of the palace roof and the other end around his waist and was swinging into the palace doorway and back out again.

Still not satisfied, the king said, “Come back tomorrow with your wife and your dog.” When they arrived the next day, the king handed the young man a whip and ordered him to beat the dog until it told where the old father was hiding. The master used the whip, but the faithful dog refused to speak. “Then flog your wife!” ordered the king. But the wife spoke up, “He’s in the bunker!”

With all haste the guards brought the old man before the king, and the king put his hands on the old man’s shoulders and said, “You raised a good son.” Then he repented his sins, calmed down, and pardoned the old father. Together the father, the son, the son’s wife, and the dog went back to the ranch, and there they lived out the rest of their days.

Florida

48. A Mother’s Curse

Well, sir, a woman was starching clothes, and when she turned her back for a moment her little boy put his dirty hands in the tub and spoiled the starch. When the mother saw what he had done, she flew into a rage and said, “Go to the Devil!”

Hardly had she spoken the words than a whirlwind came up and darkened the sky. She was frightened and began to tremble. The storm was over in a few minutes, but when she looked for her little boy he wasn’t there.

She wept bitterly. She called his name. But it was no use. The Devil had taken her child.

One day as she passed by a woods, she noticed a little pile of bones. She brought them back to her house and buried them. After that, at night, a flapping of wings could he heard near the house and the croaking of a large bird, as if asking for something.

People say it’s that woman’s child, who comes especially on windy nights to ask his mother’s forgiveness.

Puerto
Rico

49. The Hermit and the Drunkard

Two brothers were born in a country town. One of them became a hermit and went to live on a mountaintop where the angel of mercy dropped down at mealtimes to give him his daily bread. The other brother became a hopeless drunkard, and from that time on he had a special place in the underworld, where he slept on a bed made of iron, though he didn’t realize it, having convinced himself he was still living in his own house. Every day he went out with enough money in his pockets to buy a bottle and cover his other expenses.

Along the route that he always took, day after day, there was a picture of the Virgin of Lourdes hanging from an urn in front of the house of a devout family. As he passed by, he never failed to tip his hat, saying, “Dear Virgin, don’t forget me.”

Sometimes he was so drunk he missed her completely. But if he did, he would ask a passerby for directions and retrace his steps in order to greet her, always with the same words, “Dear Virgin, don’t forget me.”

One day as he passed through a particular neighborhood, he heard the sound of weeping. He stopped to see what was the matter. A man had died, and there was a wake in progress. Entering the house he asked to speak to the widow. When she came forward, he reached into his pocket and gave her a handful of money. “Take this,” he said, “and feed your children. Don’t be afraid. I’m going to help you.”

Then he saw that the widow was pregnant and in the last stages at that, and he added, “When your child is born, he’ll be my son. I’ll take care of him.”

From then on, every time he passed that way, he left money for the widow. When she gave birth to a little boy, he paid all the expenses. As the child grew and began to speak, he was taught by his mother to say “Papa” whenever they saw the drunkard, until finally the mother said, “Here, he’s yours.” The drunkard picked up the boy and carried him off in his poncho.

As soon as they got to the drunkard’s home in the underworld, the man passed out on his iron bed, while the boy ran round and round the bed, saying, “This is some place to sleep!” Then he touched it and burned his finger. Astounded, he looked under the bed and saw a fire burning.

He shook his adopted father to wake him up. “Papa, your bed is on fire!”

Suddenly the man saw what he had never seen before. In a panic he scooped up the boy and ran with him back to his mother’s house. “You must take care of your son yourself,” he said, “for I may never return.”

In desperation he ran on until he came to a river. He threw himself into the water, picked up a heavy stone, and began pounding it against his chest. He begged the Virgin of Lourdes to forgive his sin. In answer, two angels descended and carried him into the sky.

About the same time, his brother the hermit started wasting away with hunger. The angel of mercy had stopped the daily deliveries. After a week God himself took stock of the situation and gave the angel an order. “Here, take some bread to the hermit. Tell him his brother was saved, and we were so busy celebrating we forgot all about him.”

Hearing this from the angel, the jealous brother cried out, “Don’t you know my brother’s a mugger and a thief? If he can be saved, I should be saved twice over.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than the hermit was handed to the demons in the underworld, where from then on he slept in the same iron bed that had formerly been reserved for his brother the thief.

Ecuador
/
Isabel
Rivadeneira

50. The Noblewoman’s Daughter and the Charcoal Woman’s Son

In a faraway country—I can’t remember which one—there was a rushing river with a castle beside it and beautiful gardens in every direction.

In the castle lived a noblewoman named María, who was expecting a child any day. This child, she thought, would be all her happiness, and she was predicting great things for its future. One afternoon, while walking in the gardens, she passed a woman of the village who had just delivered some charcoal. The charcoal woman was also expecting a child. When she saw the noblewoman, she stopped and said, “Milady, how good it would be if you had a daughter and I had a son! They would marry each other!”

The haughty noblewoman said nothing and turned her back. But she could not get the charcoal woman’s words out of her head. A few days later she in fact gave birth to a daughter. Then she summoned a trusted servant and said, “Go immediately to the charcoal woman. If she has had a daughter, let her be. But if it’s a son, you must put the child to death. As proof, bring me the tongue and the little finger.”

The servant made his way to the charcoal woman’s hut. And what should be there but a pretty little boy all ruddy and blue-eyed, just like an angel. In a moment the poor mother realized why the servant had come. She clung to the child with all her force, but the man snatched him and ran off.

The trusty servant raised his knife, but in that instant he was struck with shame. He could not kill the child. Yet he knew that her ladyship would put him to death if he failed her, so he cut off the baby’s little finger. Then he killed a puppy that was passing by, and cut out its tongue. Gently he laid the child in a basket, padded it with straw, and placed it on the river so that the current would carry it off somewhere. When he returned, his mistress asked, “Did you do what I told you?”

“Milady, here’s proof.”

The noblewoman was well satisfied and had a sign put up at the castle gate: WHAT GOD MADE, I DESTROYED.

Now, the king and the queen of this country were wise rulers who lived well. Yet their happiness was not complete, for they had been unable to have a child. One day, as it happened, the king went walking by the river and found the basket with the charcoal woman’s little boy. He brought the child to the queen and said, “Look what I found in the river. This will be our son.”

The queen was overjoyed and ordered a little gold finger to be made for the child.

In time the boy grew into a manly young prince. When he reached the age of twenty, the king and queen took him aside for a talk. They told him how he had been found in the river and how they had come to love him as their own flesh and blood and had made him their heir.

The prince adored the king and the queen. But now be began wishing he could find his real parents. He wanted to help them, and the thought that they might be poor, suffering somewhere, made him sad.

“What’s troubling you?” asked the king.

“Sire, you know how much I love you. But I must search the kingdom for my parents. I’m sure I can find them. When I do, I’ll bring them home with me, and there’ll be happiness all around.”

The king consulted with the queen. They ended up giving permission for the search and sent the prince off with an escort of twenty knights and twenty squires.

The prince was received with open arms in all the towns he rode through. Yet he himself was sad. His parents were nowhere to be found. At last he reached the town where the noblewoman lived and took lodgings at an inn across the street from her castle. The first thing he noticed was the sign on the castle gate: WHAT GOD MADE, I DESTROYED. He asked at the inn what the sign might mean, but no one could tell him.

That afternoon, as he stood at his window staring at the inscription, a radiant young beauty appeared on one of the castle balconies. The prince was dazzled. “Who is she?” he asked. “Milady’s daughter,” he was told.

His heart leaped. Her ladyship had invited him to the castle that evening for a reception in his honor. Naturally he would be introduced to her daughter.

The hour arrived, and when the daughter met the prince she fell in love with him just as he had fallen in love with her, for as I have said, he was handsome and manly.

And with everything else this prince was naturally good. He mingled not only with the guests but with the servants. When he talked with the old retainer who had set him afloat on the river, he happened to ask, “Tell me, what is the meaning of that sign at the castle gate?” Having noticed the prince’s gold finger, the servant knew without asking that he was speaking to the son of the charcoal woman.

“I’ll explain,” he said, “if you promise to keep this quiet.” When the story had been told, the two made plans to meet the following morning. “Wait for me at the edge of the woods,” said the prince, “then take me to the charcoal woman’s hut. But don’t tell a soul, do you hear?”

“I hear,” said the old retainer.

The next morning, when the charcoal woman saw the two men approaching, she went up to them warily and asked, “What do you want?” The prince said, “Madam, remember the little son, who was taken from you at birth? I am that son.” The poor woman couldn’t speak. She threw her arms around the prince. “But don’t tell a soul,” he said. “Wait here until I send for you.”

The prince returned to the castle to ask the noblewoman for her daughter’s hand in marriage. The answer was an immediate yes. It had been her ladyship’s dream for her daughter to marry the royal heir and become his princess.

On the day of the wedding a mysterious guest arrived, heavily veiled. When the ceremony was over, the prince said, “Madam, remove your veil.” And there she stood, the charcoal woman, face to face with her son’s new mother-in-law. “And this,” said the charcoal woman, “is the son you tore from my arms. God saved him from death.”

Her ladyship, hearing the truth, choked on her own rage and fell over dead. The princess at first was sad, for this was her mother. But she dried her tears, and she and the prince, together with the king and the queen—and the charcoal woman—lived happily from that day on.

Cuba

51. The Enchanted Cow

If you learn it you’ll know it, so listen and learn how to tell it; now, don’t pick the fig until it’s big; if you want a pear you’ll need a ladder; and if you’d like a melon, marry a man with a big nose.

There was a woman called Dolores who had two children, a boy, twelve, whose name was Joaquín, and a baby girl, Chabelita. Dolores had had a husband, but not now.

And such a good-looking, hardworking, honorable husband! But one day, not long before Chabelita was born, this husband went off to the fair in Chillán to sell a fatted cow and never came back. The cow showed up the following day with a rope caught in its horns and its hide all wet. The husband, they thought, must have drowned crossing the river, and the cow somehow got away. But when they looked for the body, they found nothing.

A few days later some workmen mentioned they’d seen the husband and a woman who lived near the river, riding off together on a horse. This woman was the one they called the Lost Soul, because she had commerce with the Devil, it was said, and at night you could hear singing and carrying on at her ranch.

In spite of it, Dolores could not believe that her Pancho, for that was his name, would leave his family and run off with another woman. But how could she argue? Her husband was gone without a trace. Originally she’d come from a small village near Constitución, so she decided to go back there with her son and her newborn baby. She sold off what little land she had, and the few animals, keeping only the cow that had come home that day from the river. She loved this cow. When it looked her in the eye, it seemed human. Besides, it gave plenty of rich milk, and she was using it to feed Chabelita.

With the money she’d gotten from the sale, she bought a little farm not far from her old home village, close to the sea. She could gather shellfish to make ends meet, and with the milk from the cow there would be cheese. Joaquín helped, too, watching after his little sister.

One day while his mother was in the village, Joaquín decided to take the baby for a bath in the ocean. He picked her up in his arms and waded in. In a flash a giant wave pulled him head over heels, and what happened to the baby he had no idea. When he could breathe again, he let out with a scream, then plunged into the water. But there was no sign of his baby sister. Wild with grief, he fell down on the beach and sobbed.

Suddenly he heard his name called. He raised his head, and there was the cow, speaking to him with a human voice. It said, “I knew this was going to happen. It was the same with your father. He tried to cross the river and that woman came after him. She’s a witch, you know, and the water spirits are her in-laws. She used her wicked arts against him and doomed him. Now she’s got the baby. You’ll be next, unless you do what I’m about to tell you.”

“And what would that be?”

“You must take your knife and kill me, then skin me immediately. Spread the hide on the water, and it will take you over the waves. Be sure to hang on to the tail. If you find yourself in danger, pluck one of my tail hairs and it will be your salvation. And don’t forget: take out my eyes and put them in your pocket. They’re powerful. They’ll let you see through water and earth, even mountains and stone walls.”

The boy followed these instructions, and before he knew it he was gliding over the waves. When he was far from shore, hundreds of fish started snapping at the hooves of the cowhide, threatening to drag it to the bottom of the sea. But he remembered what the cow had told him, plucked a hair from the tail, and when it turned into a hefty oar he clouted the fish until they were all floating bottom side up.

Night came fast, dark and gloomy. But he took one of the cow’s eyes out of his pocket and gazed into the water. Far below he could see rocks, fish, monsters of the deep, and old shipwrecks. There was not a thing in his way, however, and with the eyeball close at hand he sailed on through the night.

When morning came, a flock of black birds larger than condors came swooping down to land on the cowhide. Before they could sink it, he pulled another hair from the tail, and when he looked at it a second time it was a loaded blunderbuss. He pulled the trigger, and some of the birds flew off screaming. Others dropped to the water, and their blood turned the ocean red.

Another couple of hours and icebergs came into view. In what seemed no more than a few moments they were on top of him. In his haste to pluck a hair he yanked nearly the whole tuft from the end of the tail. As he threw the tuft at the icebergs, the hairs burst into flames. The ice melted, and the cowhide sped on its way.

Finally, with one of the eyeballs as his telescope he spotted an island on the horizon. In the middle of the island was a castle surrounded by walls as high as mountains. He thought, “My little sister’s there.” And as the cowhide landed, he adjusted the eyeball and looked through the castle walls. There was an enormous room with a column of black marble in the center. Chained to the column was a man; and close by, a pan of live coals. Bending over the coals was that woman they said had stolen his father. She clutched a baby in one hand and a butcher knife in the other, ready to skin the baby. She seemed to be talking to the man, who turned his face away as if he didn’t want to see what she would do.

Without wasting a second, Joaquín snatched the remaining hairs from the cow’s tail and put them in his pocket. He laid one of them against the wall, and it became a ladder. Up he climbed, until he reached a window. With a single bound he jumped through the window, landing next to the woman. Then he tore the knife from her hand and gave her a whack that sent her rolling across the floor.

He picked up the baby and untied the prisoner, who was none other than his own father, so thin and pale he seemed more like a skeleton than a live man. Then with one of the cow’s eyes Joaquín peered into the black marble column. He saw a staircase leading downward. He found the door, opened it, and descended into a treasure cave. He and his father filled their pockets with gold and precious stones, then followed the winding passageway out to the sea. They jumped onto the cowhide and were pushed home in no time by the hands of invisible beings.

Dolores was on the beach waiting for them. She’d picked up a scent in the wind. And when she saw her lost husband and her two children, she threw her arms around them and cried for joy. Her husband explained how the Lost Soul had carried him off by speaking a few magic words and how she had tied him up in her castle when he refused to marry her.

While his father was telling the story, Joaquín was running back and forth on the beach, gathering up the cowhide and the cow’s bones. He bundled them all together and put the eyes back in the sockets. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out one last hair from the cow’s tail. He struck a match to burn the hair but burned his fingers instead and dropped the match. It fell on the hide, and the cow stood up. It was as plump and healthy as ever and started ambling home.

With a portion of the gold and jewels they’d stuffed in their pockets, Joaquín’s father bought a ranch, lots of animals, and everything else you’d need to be rich. They all lived happily till the day they died— and here we are, still waiting for our luck to change.

My tale is done, and the wind blows it off. When the wind brings it back, I’ll tell it again.

Chile
/
Magdalena
Muñoz