Tl;dr — Time’s a serial killer and takes trophies and his mother’s afflicted with purple prose.
So saying, the poor old man fell down and crumbled away, like a dead body brought from a catacomb to the light of day.
Auugh! Didn’t see that coming! Jesus! I thought this was a nice story about blind misogynist ogres and misidentification of grasses!
Then Cianna took the ashes, and mixing them with a pint of tears, she made a grave and buried them, praying Heaven to grant them quiet and repose.
That’s ... a lot of tears. I assume she had to mix them up into paste or something. Um. Ew.
And ascending the mountain, till she was quite out of breath, she waited until Time came out, who was an old man with a long, long beard, and who wore a very old cloak covered with slips of paper, on which were worked the names of various people. He had large wings, and ran so fast that he was out of sight in an instant.
This is again some fascinating imagery. I kind of don’t want to have my name on one of those slips of paper.
When Cianna entered the house of his mother, she started with affright at the sight of that black old chip; and instantly seizing the weights of the clock, she told what she wanted to the old woman, who setting up a loud cry called to her son.
But Cianna said to her, “You may butt your head against the wall as long as you like, for you will not see your son whilst I hold these clock-weights.”
Thereupon the old woman, seeing herself foiled, began to coax Cianna, saying, “Let go of them, my dear, and do not stop my son’s course; for no man living has ever done that. Let go of them, and may Heaven preserve you! for I promise you by the aquafortis of my son, with which he corrodes everything, that I will do you no harm.”
“That’s time lost,” answered Cianna. “You must say something better if you would have me quit my hold.”
“I swear to you by those teeth which gnaw all mortal things, that I will tell you all you desire.”
“That is all nothing,” answered Cianna; “for I know you are deceiving me.”
“Well then,” said the old woman, “I swear to you by those wings which fly over all, that I will give you more pleasure than you imagine.”
Go, Cianna! Although that last bit about pleasure was a bit disturbing.
Thereupon Cianna, letting go the weights, kissed the old woman’s hand, which had a moldy feel and a musty smell.
And the old woman, seeing the courtesy of the damsel, said to her, “Hide yourself behind this door, and when Time comes home I will make him tell me all you wish to know. And as soon as he goes out again, for he never stays quiet in one place, you can depart. But do not let yourself be heard or seen, for he is such a glutton that he does not spare even his own children; and when all fails, he devours himself, and then springs up anew.”
I smell a metaphor!
Cianna did as the old woman told her, and lo! soon after Time came flying quick, quick, high, and light, and having gnawed whatever came to hand, down to the very moldiness upon the walls, he was about to depart, when his mother told him all she had heard from Cianna, beseeching him to answer exactly all her questions.
After a thousand entreaties her son replied, “To the tree may be answered, that it can never be prized by men so long as it keeps treasures buried under its roots To the mice, that they will never be safe from the cat, unless they tie a bell to her leg, to tell them when she is coming. To the ants, that they will live a hundred years, if they can dispense with flying; for when the ant is going to die she puts on wings. To the whale, that it should be of good cheer, and make friends with the sea-mouse, who will serve him as a guide, so that he will never go wrong. And to the doves, that when they alight on the column of wealth, they will return to their former state.”
Dude! Sea-mouse? You have SEA-MICE in this strange and glorious land? What do they look like? Are there whales wandering around with little sea-mice perched on their heads, like tiny aquatic rodent GPS? “Go left at the Gulf Stream!”
So saying, Time set out to run his accustomed post; and Cianna, taking leave of the old woman, descended to the foot of the mountain, just at the very time that the seven doves, who had followed their sister’s footsteps, arrived there. Wearied with flying so far, they stopped to rest upon the horn of a dead ox; and no sooner had they alighted, than they were changed into handsome youths, as they were at first. But while they were marveling at this, they heard the reply which Time had given, and saw at once that the horn, as the symbol of plenty, was the column of wealth of which Time had spoken.
Well, that was .... anti-climactic.
And also weren’t they whining about how dangerous it was for doves, and didn’t they get all snarky about her being disobedient?
Then embracing their sister with great joy, they all set out on the same road by which Cianna had come. And when they came to the oak tree, and told it what Cianna had heard from Time, the tree begged them to take away the treasure from its roots, since it was the cause why its acorns had lost their reputation.
No. It’s because they’re ACORNS. Look, you can eat acorns, but it’s more trouble than it’s worth to get the tannic acids out unless you’ve got a lot of time on your hands. It’s not because they think that particular oak is slutty or unkempt or maybe did something naughty with a squirrel once. It’s because they’re goddamn ACORNS.
Thereupon the seven brothers, taking a spade which they found in a garden, dug and dug, until they came to a great heap of gold money, which they divided into eight parts, and shared among themselves and their sister, so that they might carry it away conveniently. But being wearied with the journey and the load, they laid themselves down to sleep under a hedge.
Incidentally, they found the shovel to bury the ogre just lying on the ground. These people live in a land that apparently has tools just lying around randomly. I bet people are very scared of rakes.
Presently a band of robbers coming by, and seeing the poor fellows asleep, with their heads upon the cloths full of dollars, bound them hand and foot to some trees, and took away the money, leaving them to bewail not only their wealth, which had slipped through their fingers as soon as found, but their life; for being without hope of succor, they were in peril of either soon dying of starvation or allaying the hunger of some wild beast.
As they were lamenting their unhappy lot, up came the mouse, who, as soon as she heard the reply which Time had given, in return for the good service nibbled the cords with which they were bound and set them free.
But who will bell the cat? Really, this just leads you to a very cynical fable.
And having gone a little way farther they met on the road the ant, who, when she heard the advice of Time, asked Cianna what was the matter, that she was so pale-faced and cast down.
Yeah, what are you complaining about? I just learned that the secret of immortality is not to have sex. Ever. Because of the mating-flight issue. Which is going to be a problem for the colony.
And when Cianna told her their misfortune, and the trick which the robbers had played them, the ant replied, “Be quiet, I can now requite the kindness you have done me. You must know, that whilst I was carrying a load of grain underground, I saw a place where these dogs of assassins hide their plunder; they have made some holes under an old building, in which they shut up all the things they have stolen. They are just now gone out for some new robbery, and I will go with you and show you the place, so that you may recover your money.”
So saying she took the way toward some tumble down houses, and showed the seven brothers the mouth of a pit; whereupon Giangrazio, who was bolder than the rest, entering it, found there all the money of which they had been robbed.
Then taking it with them, they set out, and walked towards the seashore, where they found the whale, and told him the good advice which Time — who is the father of counsel — had given them.
And then the whale embarked on the epic “Quest For The Legendary Sea Mouse.” It took many, many years and was s
o goddamn adorable that I am forbidden by law to tell it to you without a supply of insulin on hand.
And whilst they stood talking of their journey, and all that had befallen them, they saw the robbers suddenly appear, armed to the teeth, who had followed in their footsteps.
At this sight they exclaimed, “Alas, alas! we are now wholly lost, for here come the robbers armed, and they will not leave the skin on our bodies!”
“Fear not,” replied the whale,” for I can save you out of the fire, and will thus requite the love you have shown me. So get upon my back, and I will quickly carry you to a place of safety.”
Cianna and her brothers, seeing the foe at their heels and the water up to their throat, climbed upon the whale, who, keeping far off from the rocks, carried them to within sight of Naples; but being afraid to land them on account of the shoals and shallows, he said, “Where would you like me to land you? On the shore of Amalfi?”
And Giangrazio answered, “See whether that cannot be avoided, my dear fish;
Actually I’m a mammal. But I’m starting to see where that whole grass/rosemary thing came from.
I do not wish to land at any place hereabouts; for at Massa they say barely good-day, at Sorrento thieves are plenty, at Vico they say you may go your way, at Castela Mare no one says how are ye?”
Then the whale, to please them, turned about and went toward the Salt-Rock, where he left them; and they got put on shore by the first fishing boat that passed. Thereupon they returned to their own country, safe and sound and rich, to the great joy and consolation of their mother and father;
Who did not have to be pried, weeping, out of her bathroom, which she had barricaded with bleach bottles and a number of small decorative soaps and of course, an attractive stone. Nope. That certainly didn’t happen. At least as far as the priest is concerned.
and, thanks to the goodness of Cianna, they enjoyed a happy life, verifying the old saying, Do good whenever you can, and forget it.
This saying may require some mental unpacking. Still thinking about that one.
Incidentally, there’s a couple of variations on this story that have some great bits, so, for your comparative reading pleasure.
This is German, the brothers are ravens, and that’s all pretty typical but the sister encounters this in her travels:
She walked on and on — far, far to the end of the world. She came to the sun, but it was too hot and terrible, and ate little children. She hurried away, and ran to the moon, but it was much too cold, and also frightening and wicked, and when it saw the child, it said, “I smell human flesh.”
Dude.
In Finland she chases a magic cake that leads her to her brothers. I have nothing useful to add to that statement.
The Romanians are a little grimmer, but also have a good explanation for once:
ONCE upon a time there was such a famine in the land that the people lived on grass and even on sawdust, and were dying of hunger in untold numbers. At that time there lived a widow who had managed to husband a little flour. When she found that nothing else was left to her she took that flour and mixing it with water kneaded it into dough. Then she lit the furnace and got a shovel to put the dough on it and thence into the furnace to bake.
This woman had two sons and one daughter. The two boys came in just at the moment when the loaves of dough were on the shovel. They were so hungry that they did not wait for the dough to be baked, and before their mother had time to put the shovel into the oven they got hold of the dough, raw and uncooked as it was, and ate it up to the smallest bit. They did not leave even a little piece for their mother and sister.
When the mother saw the terrible greediness of her children, and that they ate the raw stuff and did not leave even a small piece for her or their sister, she cursed them and said, “May you be cursed by God and be changed into two birds; may you haunt the highest peaks of the mountains; may you never be able to eat bread even when you see it, because you did not leave any for me this day.”
No sooner had the boys gone out of the house than they were changed into two huge eagles, who, spreading their wings, flew away to the ends of the earth, no one knowing whither they had gone.
And that is why you don’t eat raw cookie dough, kids.
This one doesn’t end well — after trying to break the curse by not speaking, the heroine starts to have doubts.
Five years had passed, the girl not seeing anything of them, and not speaking all the time. After that time she said to herself, “What is the good of my sitting here and keeping silent when none of them have come; perchance they are dead, or who know what has happened?”
No sooner had she opened her mouth and spoken a word when in came her two brothers, and said to her mournfully, “Thou hast not kept thy vow, thou hast broken thy promise, thou hast spoken! If thou wouldst have waited one more year we would have become human beings, and the spell would have been broken. Now we are cursed forever. We must remain eagles and birds of prey.”
And so they have remained to this day, preying on birds and beasts, living on raw meat, never being able to touch bread, and even picking up children under six years of age, the years which their sister had to wait in order to break the spell.
Sooner or later, it all ends in cannibalism. Frankly, if we had a single takeaway for fairy tales, that’s not the most unlikely.
The King of Love
Sometimes you read a story and you’re not sure if the problem is the story or the guy translating it. With this one, the story is a complicated jumble, made more complicated by the fact that the translator couldn’t tell a good story if his life depended on it.
This is another story from Italian Popular Tales by Crane, and I sure hope they didn’t rely on Crane to make them popular. At several points, he commits such a crime against the story that I am forced to intercede to attempt to save it. I am certain that he was a lovely man who undoubtedly did much for the folklore of Italy, but this has issues.
It wants to be a version of “East of the Sun, West of the Moon,” but it’s not very good at it. (Alas, possibly the best of all possible versions, “The Hog Bridegroom,” could not be included in this volume for copyright reasons. It had twenty-four headed otters. This version is sorely lacking in otters, regardless of the number of heads.) It keeps throwing in other elements, but in a particularly graceless manner, as if the storyteller is losing his place.
Also, it’s called “The King of Love.”
ONCE upon a time there was a man with three daughters, who earned his living by gathering wild herbs. One day he took his youngest daughter with him. They came to a garden, and began to gather vegetables.
Never go into strange people’s gardens and start picking things. It’s only polite.
The daughter saw a fine radish, and began to pull it up, when suddenly a Turk appeared, and said: “Why have you opened my master’s door? You must come in now, and he will decide on your punishment.”
Those of us who have grown suspicious of things in folk songs being euphemisms for other things are giving this radish the side-eye right now.
Although, um, apparently his door is a radish? That doesn’t even need a euphemism. That’s just peculiar. That is a very small door, or else a radish for the ages.
The Turk will appear for about three lines then vanish forever, and was probably thrown in because the storyteller read the Arabian Nights at some point. He was gonna do a whole subplot with carpets, but it kinda fell by the way wayside.
They went down into the ground, more dead than alive;
Radish pulling can be extremely taxing.
and when they were seated they saw a green bird come in and bathe in a pan of milk, then dry itself, and become a handsome youth.
Crane has omitted all the details I want to know, like “What is the bird wearing?” Does he have on green feather cloths or is this a naked man in a pan of milk? Is the daughter averting her eyes or going “Check out the radish on that bird!”?
How one r
eacts to surprise handsome men in pans of milk tells us a lot about a person’s character, dammit.
He said to the Turk: “What do these persons want?”
“Your worship, they pulled up a radish, and opened the door of the cave.”
“How did we know,” said the father, “that this was Your Excellency’s house? My daughter saw a fine radish; it pleased her, and she pulled it up.”
If this isn’t a euphemism, I will eat my hat.
“Well, if that’s the case,” said the master, “your daughter shall stay here as my wife; take this sack of gold and go; when you want to see your daughter, come and make yourself at home.” The father took leave of his daughter and went away.
“Honey, do you want to marry a man who stands around naked in pans of milk? It’s just, there’s this bag of gold, you see … ”
“Sure, when else will I meet someone else who enjoys the finer points of radish husbandry?”
When the master was alone with her, he said: “You see, Rosella (Rusidda), you are now mistress here,” and gave her all the keys. She was perfectly happy (literally, “was happy to the hairs of her head”).
Okay, as idioms go, that one’s pretty neat.
One day, while the green bird was away,
“Important green bird business. You understand. Gotta check the radish harvest out in the back forty.”
her sisters took it into their heads to visit her, and asked her about her husband.
“Dad showed up with a bag of gold babbling about naked birds and radishes the size of doors. We were pretty sure he got high and sold you on the black market. It’s been awkward.”
Rosella said she did not know, for he had made her promise not to try to find out who he was.
The storyteller would introduce Chekhov’s gun in the third act, by saying “Also, he put a gun on the mantle two acts ago.”
Her sisters, however, persuaded her,
See, the sisters always get a bad rap for this. It’s usually jealousy or something. However, because the storyteller can’t be bothered with character motivation, we’re free to assume that her sisters are going “You are married to a naked bird man with a radish problem?! Who bathes in milk? And you don’t know who he is? Uh. Hmm. Hon, this isn’t normal.”
The Halcyon Fairy Book Page 18