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Henry Smith Williams - ""

William D. McClintock and Porter Lander McClintock - "Song and Legend From the Middle Ages"

Mitzi Perdue - "The Perdue Chicken Cookbook"

Edgar Lee Masters - "Spoon River Anthology"

Stories from Pentamerone

G >> Giambattista Basile >> Stories from Pentamerone




Now whilst they were preparing splendid feasts and banquets, and
the cooks were busy plucking geese, killing little pigs, flaying kids,
basting the roast meat, skimming pots, mincing meat for
dumplings, larding capons, and preparing a thousand other
delicacies, a beautiful dove came flying to the kitchen window,
and said,

"O cook of the kitchen, tell me, I pray,
What the King and the slave are doing to-day."

The cook at first paid little heed to the dove; but when she
returned a second and a third time, and repeated the same words,
he ran to the dining-hall to tell the marvellous thing. But no sooner
did the lady hear this music than she gave orders for the dove to be
instantly caught and made into a hash. So the cook went, and he
managed to catch the dove, and did all that the slave had
commanded. And having scalded the bird in order to pluck it, he
threw the water with the feathers out from a balcony on to a
garden-bed, on which, before three days had passed, there sprang
up a beautiful citron-tree, which quickly grew to its full size.

Now it happened that the King, going by chance to a window that
looked upon the garden, saw the tree, which he had never observed
before; and calling the cook, he asked him when and by whom it
had been planted. No sooner had he heard all the particulars from
Master Pot-ladle, than he began to suspect how matters stood. So
he gave orders, under pain of death, that the tree should not be
touched, but that it should be tended with the greatest care.

At the end of a few days three most beautiful citrons appeared,
similar to those which the ogress had given Ciommetiello. And
when they were grown larger, he plucked them; and shutting
himself up in a chamber, with a large basin of water and the knife,
which he always carried at his side, he began to cut the citrons.
Then it all fell out with the first and second fairy just as it had
done before; but when at last he cut the third citron, and gave the
fairy who came forth from it to drink, behold, there stood before
him the self-same maiden whom he had left up in the tree, and
who told him all the mischief that the slave had done.

Who now can tell the least part of the delight the King felt at this
good turn of fortune? Who can describe the shouting and leaping
for joy that there was? For the King was swimming in a sea of
delight, and was wafted to Heaven on a tide of rapture. Then he
embraced the fairy, and ordered her to be handsomely dressed
from head to foot; and taking her by the hand he led her into the
middle of the hall, where all the courtiers and great folks of the
city were met to celebrate the feast. Then the King called on them
one by one, and said, "Tell me, what punishment would that
person deserve who should do any harm to this beautiful lady!"
And one replied that such a person would deserve a hempen collar;
another, a breakfast of stones; a third, a good beating; a fourth, a
draught of poison; a fifth, a millstone for a brooch--in short, one
said this thing and another that. At last he called on the black
Queen, and putting the same question, she replied, "Such a person
would deserve to be burned, and that her ashes should be thrown
from the roof of the castle."

When the King heard this, he said to her, "You have struck your
own foot with the axe, you have made your own fetters, you have
sharpened the knife and mixed the poison; for no one has done this
lady so much harm as yourself, you good-for-nothing creature!
Know you that this is the beautiful maiden whom you wounded
with the hairpin? Know you that this is the pretty dove which you
ordered to be killed and cooked in a stewpan? What say you now?
It is all your own doing; and one who does ill may expect ill in
return." So saying, he ordered the slave to be seized and cast alive
on to a large burning pile of wood; and her ashes were thrown
from the top of the castle to all the winds of Heaven, verifying the
truth of the saying that--

"He who sows thorns should not go barefoot."



XXXII

CONCLUSION

All sat listening to Ciommetella's last story. Some praised the skill
with which she had told it, while others murmured at her
indiscretion, saying that, in the presence of the Princess, she ought
not to have exposed to blame the ill-deeds of another slave, and
run the risk of stopping the game. But Lucia herself sat upon
thorns, and kept turning and twisting herself about all the time the
story was being told; insomuch that the restlessness of her body
betrayed the storm that was in her heart, at seeing in the tale of
another slave the exact image of her own deceit. Gladly would she
have dismissed the whole company, but that, owing to the desire
which the doll had given her to hear stories, she could not restrain
her passion for them. And, partly also not to give Taddeo cause for
suspicion, she swallowed this bitter pill, intending to take a good
revenge in proper time and place. But Taddeo, who had grown
quite fond of the amusement, made a sign to Zoza to relate her
story; and, after making her curtsey, she began--

"Truth, my Lord Prince, has always been the mother of hatred, and
I would not wish, therefore, by obeying your commands, to offend
any one of those about me. But as I am not accustomed to weave
fictions or to invent stories, I am constrained, both by nature and
habit, to speak the truth; and, although the proverb says, Tell truth
and fear nothing, yet knowing well that truth is not welcome in the
presence of princes, I tremble lest I say anything that may offend
you."

"Say all you wish," replied Taddeo, "for nothing but what is sweet
can come from those pretty lips."

These words were stabs to the heart of the Slave, as all would have
seen plainly if black faces were, as white ones, the book of the
soul. And she would have given a finger of her hand to have been
rid of these stories, for all before her eyes had grown blacker even
than her face. She feared that the last story was only the
fore-runner of mischief to follow; and from a cloudy morning she
foretold a bad day. But Zoza, meanwhile, began to enchant all
around her with the sweetness of her words, relating her sorrows
from first to last, and beginning with her natural melancholy, the
unhappy augury of all she had to suffer. Then she went on to tell of
the old woman's curse, her painful wanderings, her arrival at the
fountain, her bitter weeping, and the treacherous sleep which had
been the cause of her ruin.

The Slave, hearing Zoza tell the story in all its breadth and length,
and seeing the boat go out of its course, exclaimed, "Be quiet and
hold your tongue! or I will not answer for the consequences." But
Taddeo, who had discovered how matters stood, could no longer
contain himself; so, stripping off the mask and throwing the saddle
on the ground, he exclaimed, "Let her tell her story to the end, and
have done with this nonsense. I have been made a fool of for long
enough, and, if what I suspect is true, it were better that you had
never been born." Then he commanded Zoza to continue her story
in spite of his wife; and Zoza, who only waited for the sign, went
on to tell how the Slave had found the pitcher and had
treacherously robbed her of her good fortune. And, thereupon, she
fell to weeping in such a manner, that every person present was
affected at the sight.

Taddeo, who, from Zoza's tears and the Slave's silence, discerned
the truth of the matter, gave Lucia a rare scolding, and made her
confess her treachery with her own lips. Then he gave instant
orders that she should be buried alive up to her neck, that she
might die a more painful death. And, embracing Zoza, he caused
her to be treated with all honour as his Princess and wife, sending
to invite the King of Wood-Valley to come to the feast.

With these fresh nuptials terminated the greatness of the Slave and
the amusement of these stories. And much good may they do you,
and promote your health! And may you lay them down as
unwillingly as I do, taking my leave with regret at my heels and a
good spoonful of honey in my mouth.

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