Italian Folktales (75 page)

“Come in,” thundered a voice that echoed on the mountain.

The friars entered, and there before the fire was a giant with one eye in his forehead, who said, “Welcome, you will be comfortable here.”

He stepped behind the friars, who were shaking like leaves, and closed up the entrance with a boulder that one hundred persons all together couldn't have budged.

“I have one hundred sheep,” said One-Eye, “but the year is long and I must save them. So which one of you two should I eat first, Little Friar or Big Friar? You decide, by drawing lots.”

Lots were drawn, and it fell to Big Friar. One-Eye ran him onto a spit, and put him over the fire to roast. As he turned the spit, he sang, “Fatty tonight, Shorty tomorrow, Fatty tonight, Shorty tomorrow!”

Little Friar was torn between grief over losing his companion and
eagerness to avoid a like fate. When Big Friar was done, One-Eye began eating him and also gave Little Friar a leg to sample. Little Friar pretended to eat, but threw the meat over his shoulder.

Once he'd picked Big Friar's bones clean, One-Eye threw himself down on the straw to sleep. Little Friar curled up by the fire and also pretended to go to sleep. When he heard One-Eye snoring like a pig rooting in the earth, he took the spit, heated the point to a glow, and—zing!—thrust it into the giant's single eye.

The blinded giant jumped to his feet howling and waving his hands in all directions in an effort to grab Little Friar. But Little Friar darted into the flock of sheep. One-Eye began feeling the sheep, one by one, but Little Friar got out of his way every time. Then the giant said, “Just wait until daylight!”

At that, Little Friar quietly took the ram, skinned it, and wrapped himself up in the fleece. When it was day, One-Eye lifted the boulder away from the mouth of the cave and planted himself at the entrance, one leg on one side, the other on the other, so as to be able to feel everything that came out and to let the sheep pass, but not Little Friar. He called the ram first of all, and Little Friar came forward on all fours ringing the bell around his neck. One-Eye stroked him on the back and said, “Go on.” Then he felt the sheep as they went out one by one. So Little Friar was free and took to his heels, overjoyed to be out of the cave.

But once all the sheep were out, One-Eye began feeling around the cave, and his hands came upon the flayed ram. He then realized that the ram he had felt a few minutes ago was none other than Little Friar in disguise, and he ran out of the cave after him. He groped his way along, sniffing the air and, smelling the friar near at hand, he yelled, “Little Friar, you gave me the slip! You're smarter than I am! Here's a ring for a souvenir of your victory!” He threw him a ring, which Little Friar caught and put on. But it was a magic ring: once it was on his finger, Little Friar tried to run away from One-Eye but ran to him instead. The harder he tried to flee, the closer he came to the giant. He tried to remove the ring, but it would no longer come off. When he was almost in the giant's reach, he cut off the finger with the ring and flung it in the giant's face: right away he was free and able to flee.

One-Eye opened his mouth and swallowed Little Friar's finger, saying, “I at least got a taste of you!”

 

(
Abruzzo
)

116

A mother had to sift flour, and told her little girl to go to her grandmother's and borrow the sifter. The child packed a snack—ring-shaped cakes and bread with oil—and set out.

She came to the Jordan River.

“Jordan River, will you let me pass?”

“Yes, if you give me your ring-shaped cakes.”

The Jordan River had a weakness for ring-shaped cakes, which he enjoyed twirling in his whirlpools.

The child tossed the ring-shaped cakes into the river, and the river lowered its waters and let her through.

The little girl came to the Rake Gate.

“Rake Gate, will you let me pass?”

“Yes, if you give me your bread with oil.”

The Rake Gate had a weakness for bread with oil, since her hinges were rusty, and bread with oil oiled them for her.

The little girl gave the gate her bread with oil, and the gate opened and let her through.

She reached her grandmother's house, but the door was shut tight.

“Grandmother, Grandmother, come let me in.”

“I'm in bed sick. Come through the window.”

“I can't make it.”

“Come through the cat door.”

“I can't squeeze through.”

“Well, wait a minute,” she said, and lowered a rope, by which she pulled the little girl up through the window. The room was dark. In bed was the ogress, not the grandmother, for the ogress had gobbled up Grandmother all in one piece from head to toe, all except her teeth, which she had put on to stew in a small stew pan, and her ears, which she had put on to fry in a frying pan.

“Grandmother, Mamma wants the sifter.”

“It's late now. I'll give it to you tomorrow. Come to bed.”

“Grandmother, I'm hungry, I want my supper first.”

“Eat the beans boiling in the boiler.”

In the pot were the teeth. The child stirred them around and said, “Grandmother, they're too hard.”

“Well, eat the fritters in the frying pan.”

In the frying pan were the ears. The child felt them with the fork and said, “Grandmother, they're not crisp.”

“Well, come to bed. You can eat tomorrow.”

The little girl got into bed beside Grandmother. She felt one of her hands and said, “Why are your hands so hairy, Grandmother?”

“From wearing too many rings on my fingers.”

She felt her chest. “Why is your chest so hairy, Grandmother?”

“From wearing too many necklaces around my neck.”

She felt her hips. “Why are your hips so hairy, Grandmother?”

“Because I wore my corset too tight.”

She felt her tail and reasoned that, hairy or not, Grandmother had never had a tail. That had to be the ogress and nobody else. So she said, “Grandmother, I can't go to sleep unless I first go and take care of a little business.”

Grandmother replied, “Go do it in the barn below. I'll let you down through the trapdoor and then draw you back up.”

She tied a rope around her and lowered her into the barn. The minute the little girl was down she untied the rope and in her place attached a nanny goat. “Are you through?” asked Grandmother.

“Just a minute.” She finished tying the rope around the nanny goat. “There, I've finished. Pull me back up.”

The ogress pulled and pulled, and the little girl began yelling, “Hairy ogress! Hairy ogress!” She threw open the barn and fled. The ogress kept pulling, and up came the nanny goat. She jumped out of bed and ran after the little girl.

When the child reached the Rake Gate, the ogress yelled from a distance; “Rake Gate, don't let her pass!”

But the Rake Gate replied, “Of course I'll let her pass; she gave me her bread with oil.”

When the child reached the Jordan River, the ogress shouted, “Jordan River, don't you let her pass!”

But the Jordan River answered, “Of course I'll let her pass; she gave me her ring-shaped cakes.”

When the ogress tried to get through, the Jordan River did not lower his waters, and the ogress was swept away in the current. From the bank the little girl made faces at her.

 

(
Abruzzo
)

117

A woman had an only child, Frankie-Boy, and was anxious for him to learn a trade. The son replied, “Find me a master, and I will learn the trade.” So his mother found him a blacksmith as a master.

Frankie-Boy went to work at the smithy, where he accidentally brought down the hammer on his hand. Back home he went to his mother. “Mamma, find me another master, I'm not cut out to be a blacksmith.”

Mamma looked around for another master, and this time found a cobbler. Frankie-Boy worked at the cobbler's and accidentally ran the awl through his hand. Home to his mother he went. “Mamma, find me another master; I'm not cut out to be a cobbler either.”

His mother replied, “Son, I have only ten ducats left. If you learn the trade, well and good! If not, I don't know of anything else to do for you.”

“If that's the case, Mamma,” said Frankie-Boy, “you'd better give me the ten ducats and let me go out into the world and see if I can't learn a trade on my own.”

His mother gave him the ten ducats, and Frankie-Boy set out. Along the way, in the heart of a forest, four robbers sprang out and cried, “Face to the ground!”

“Face to the ground?” repeated Frankie-Boy. “How do you mean?”

“Face to the ground!”

“Show me how I'm supposed to do,” replied Frankie-Boy.

The robbers' ringleader thought to himself, This fellow is even more persistent than we are. What if we took him into our band? So he asked him, “Young man, would you like to be one of us?”

“What trade will you teach me?” said Frankie-Boy.

“Our own respectable trade,” replied the ringleader, “We accost people, and if they refuse to hand over their money, we assassinate them. Then we feast, drink, and go for a stroll.”

So Frankie-Boy began roving the highways with the band. A year later the leader died, and Frankie-Boy took his place. One day he ordered the whole band to go out and prowl while he stayed behind to guard their booty. An idea occurred to him. “I could take all this money here, load it onto a mule, and slip away without leaving a trace.” And that's just what he did.

He reached his mother's house and knocked. “Mamma, I'm home, open up!” His mother opened the door and found herself face to face
with her son, who held a mule by the halter. He immediately began unloading sacks of money.

“But what trade did you learn?”

“The
respectable trade
, Mamma, where one eats, drinks, and goes for a stroll.”

His mother, who didn't know what he was talking about, concluded it must be a good trade and asked no more questions. Now his mother happened to be very chummy with the archpriest. The next morning she went to the priest and said, “Father, did you know your old friend was back?”

“He is? Has he learned a trade?”

“Yes, he has. He's learned the
respectable trade
. He eats, drinks, and goes for a stroll. And he's earned a muleload of money.”

“He has, has he?” said the archpriest, who knew better. “Send him around to see me. I want to talk to him . . . ”

Frankie-Boy went to see him. “Well, old friend,” asked the priest, “have you really and truly learned a good trade?”

“Yes, indeed.”

“If that is so, we must make a bet.”

“What are we betting?”

“I have twelve shepherds and twenty dogs. If you can steal a ram from my flock, I'll give you one hundred ducats.”

“My friend,” replied Frankie-Boy, “if you have twelve shepherds and twenty dogs, how can I possibly succeed? I don't know what to say. Let us try all the same.”

He dressed up as a monk and went to the shepherds. “O shepherds, hold your dogs, I'm only a poor man of God.”

The shepherds tied up their dogs. “Come closer, father, come up to the fire and warm yourself along with us.”

Frankie-Boy sat by the fire with the shepherds, drew out of his pocket a piece of bread, and began eating. Then he took a flask from his pack and pretended to drink—just pretending, mind you, for the wine was drugged. A shepherd spoke up. “That's the spirit, father! Eat and drink, offering no one a taste or sip!”

“Sir,” replied Frankie-Boy, “one swallow of this is sufficient for me.” And he offered him the flask. The shepherd drank, as did the others, and when the wine was all gone they felt very drowsy. In no time they were asleep. “It would happen that just when we wanted to talk to the monk a bit, all of you had to fall asleep!” said the only shepherd to stay awake. But the words were scarcely out of his mouth before he too yawned and went sound asleep.

When Frankie-Boy was sure they were all fast asleep he undressed
them one by one and reclothed them in the garb of monks. Then he took the fattest ram and left. Back home, he killed and roasted it, then sent a leg to the archpriest.

When the shepherds awakened and saw themselves dressed as monks, they knew at once they had been robbed. “What will we now tell our master?” they wondered.

“You go and explain,” said one. “No, you go,” said the other. But no one was willing, so they decided to go to him in a body. They knocked. When the priest's servant saw them, she said, “Father, the porch is full of monks who wish to come inside!”

“I have to say Mass this morning,” replied the priest. “Tell them to go away.”

“Open up, open up!” cried the shepherds, who finally all burst into the house.

Seeing his shepherds dressed as monks, the archpriest knew it was none other than Frankie-Boy's doing, and muttered, “So he really did learn the trade!” He sent for him and gave him the hundred ducats.

“Now, my friend,” said the priest, “let's play the return match. We will stake two hundred ducats this time. There's a church in the country which belongs to our parish. If you succeed in taking anything at all from that church, you win. I'm giving you eight days to do it.”

“Very well,” replied Frankie-Boy.

The archpriest sent for the hermit who stayed at the church and said, “Be on your guard; a man will attempt to steal something out of the church. Be on the lookout night and day.”

“Have no fear, father! Just arm me well, and leave the rest to me.”

Frankie-Boy let seven days and seven nights go by. On the last evening, he went up close to the church and hid by one of the corners. Now the hermit, poor thing, who'd not slept a wink for seven days and seven nights, came to the door and said to himself, “For seven nights he's not showed up. Tonight is the last one. Six o'clock has already struck, and he hasn't come. That's a sign he's afraid to. But who knows? I shall go and relieve myself and then get some sleep.”