Gifts of the Fairy of Krenskoye Lake

In the Niolian Mountains, where rain is rare, where the heat crumbles stones into sand and the earth hardens like stone, small houses clung to the slopes of a tiny village. The peasants in this village lived poorly, even though they worked hard. If they had worked so diligently somewhere in the valley, they might have lived comfortably. And yet, even this barren land somehow fed them.

But then a difficult year came to the Niolian Mountains. If drops of moisture fell on the ground, it was only the sweat that dripped from the faces of the peasants, exhausted from futile labor. There was no rain all summer. Famine began in the village. The one who suffered the most was an old peasant who had twelve sons and not a single sack of flour in reserve. One day he said:

– It pains me to part with you, my children, but it pains me even more to see you starving. Go and seek your fortune in other lands.

– Very well, – replied eleven of the sons, – but let the youngest brother, Francesco, stay with you. We have strong legs and can walk quickly, but how could he, a lame boy, keep up with us?

Then the father said:

– You are tall and strong-legged, but you are not rich in wisdom. Francesco may be small and lame, but his head and heart are made of gold. As long as he is with you, I will not worry. Protect Francesco, and you will be safer yourselves.

The older brothers did not dare argue with their father. All twelve bowed to their home and set off.

They walked for one day, then another, then a third. Francesco, the lame one, could not keep up with his brothers and lagged far behind. He only caught up with them during their breaks. But it always turned out that as soon as Francesco reached them, his brothers had already rested, gotten up, and moved on. Poor Francesco limped after them again. He was completely exhausted, almost collapsing from fatigue.

On the third day, the eldest brother said:

– Why should we carry such a burden? Let’s move ahead faster. Then Francesco won’t catch up with us.

And so they did. They no longer stopped anywhere, nor did they look back even once.

They came to the seashore and saw a boat tied up. One of the brothers said:

– What if we take this boat and sail to Sardinia? They say it’s a rich land, where money practically falls into your hands.

– Good, let’s go to Sardinia, – said the others. The brothers looked and saw that the boat had room for only ten; there was no space for the eleventh.

– Here’s what, – ordered the eldest brother, Angelo, – let one of you, perhaps you, Lorenzo, wait here on the shore. I’ll come back for you later.

– No way! – shouted Lorenzo. – I’m not such a fool to wait for you to return. You stay here yourself.

– Not a chance! – replied Angelo. – Stay here so you can be abandoned like Francesco...

And he jumped into the boat. The others, pushing and cursing, climbed in after him. They untied the boat and set sail.

At that moment, the wind picked up, bringing clouds and stirring the sea into waves. The overloaded boat would not obey the rudder, and the waves crashed over it. Then a huge wave struck, smashing the boat against the reefs and breaking it into splinters. One by one, all the brothers sank to the bottom.

Meanwhile, Francesco, the lame one, hurried as best he could. He finally reached Lake Krena. He looked around – the grass was soft, the trees were shady, and the lake water was cold and clear. There was no better place to rest. But his brothers were nowhere to be seen.

Then Francesco realized that he had been abandoned, and he wept bitterly.

– Oh, brothers, brothers, why did you do this? It’s hard for me, a lame boy, without you, but it won’t be better for you without me. If only I had healthy legs, this misfortune wouldn’t have happened!

Francesco wept and then fell asleep.

As soon as he fell asleep, the fairy of Lake Krena emerged from behind a tree. She had heard everything from the first word to the last.

The fairy approached the sleeping youth and touched his lame leg with her magic wand. She touched it and then hid again behind the thick trunk of a tree, waiting.

Francesco, exhausted, slept for a long time, but at last, he woke up.

He jumped to his feet and could not believe it. What a miracle! Both legs stood firmly on the ground, as if he had never been lame! He could run, he could dance!

– What kind of miraculous doctor healed me? I would search for him to the ends of the earth to say thank you! – exclaimed Francesco.

Then the fairy appeared to him. Francesco even shut his eyes – she was so beautiful. Her braids seemed woven from sunbeams, her eyes were as blue as the lake, and her cheeks were like two rose petals.

– Why don’t you thank me? – the fairy said with a smile. – You don’t even need to take a step for that.

But the young man could not utter a word.

– Listen, Francesco. I am the fairy of Lake Krena. I like you, and I have decided to grant you three wishes. One has already been fulfilled – your lame leg is now healthy. There are two more. Tell me what you desire.

Francesco replied:

– You have fulfilled not one but two of my wishes. When I was a little boy and listened to fairy tales, I always wanted to see a fairy. And now I have seen a fairy.

– Well, then you still have one wish left, – the fairy laughed.

– Well, – said Francesco. – If a fairy from a fairy tale has come to me, then my wish will be like something from a fairy tale: I would like to have a magic sack and a magic club. Whatever I desire, let it appear in the sack, and whatever I command, let the club do it.
The fairy waved her wand. And—poof!—a bag and a club lay at Francesco's feet.

Francesco was delighted, and the fairy said to him:

"The person who possesses such a bag and such a club can do much evil and much good. Be careful, Francesco, so that I do not regret my gift."

With these words, the fairy disappeared.

Francesco tied the bag to his belt, tucked the club under his arm, and set off on his journey. But before that, he had a proper meal. First, he was hungry, and second, he couldn't wait to try out the fairy's gift. The bag turned out to be exactly what a magical bag should be. Francesco simply gave orders, and without a moment's delay, the bag treated him to roasted partridge, sheep's cheese, a hot round loaf of bread, and a bottle of golden wine. As for the club, Francesco decided not to test it. If the first gift was good, then the second couldn't be worse.

Francesco walked merrily, singing one song after another.

The sun had passed its zenith when Francesco saw a poor hut in the forest. A boy sat on the doorstep, crying.

Francesco decided to cheer him up.

"Hey, friend!" he called out. "It seems crying is your trade. How much do you charge for a dozen salty tears?"

"I'm not in the mood for jokes, kind sir," the boy replied.

"What's the matter?"

"My father is a woodcutter," the boy said, "and he supports the whole family. Today, he fell from a tree and dislocated his arm. I ran to town to fetch a doctor, but he wouldn't even speak to me. The doctor knows that you can't pluck an orange from a dry tree, and you can't get rich from a poor man."

"Well, that's all nonsense!" said Francesco. "I'll help your father."

"Are you a doctor?" the boy exclaimed.

"What does that have to do with me?" Francesco wondered. "You need a doctor? He'll be here in a moment. What's his name?"

"Doctor Pancrazio."

"Excellent!" Francesco exclaimed and slapped the bag. "Hey, Doctor Pancrazio, into the bag!"

Before the boy could wipe away his tears, something buzzed in the air. It was the fat doctor hurrying from town into the bag. Wham! The doctor was in the bag. Wow, he was so heavy that Francesco nearly bent over. Luckily, he had the sense to untie the bag from his belt. The doctor plopped onto the ground and yelled:

"I am the famous and learned Doctor Ignazio Pancrazio, and I won't allow some beggars to boss me around. If I said I wouldn't go to the woodcutter, then I won't."

"You don't need to go anywhere," said Francesco. "You're already here. All that's left is to treat the patient."

"I won't treat him," the doctor replied from the bag.

"I see," said Francesco, "that Doctor Ignazio Pancrazio is gravely ill himself, and his illness is called stubbornness and greed. I'll have to treat him first. Hey, club, get to work!"

The club didn't need to be asked twice. It began drumming on the doctor's fat back.

"I'm cured already!" the doctor shouted. "Where's the patient? Take me to the patient."

While the doctor set the woodcutter's dislocated arm, Francesco ordered the bag to deliver a month's worth of supplies. He left everything by the doorstep and marched on.

After some time, Francesco arrived in town.

It was evening, and Francesco first found an inn. The innkeeper served him dinner and then said:

"Oh, my dear, my dear, I hate to lose such a good guest. But listen to my advice: stay the night, and leave town early in the morning."

"Is there a plague in town?" Francesco asked.

"It's not a plague, but it's no better," the talkative innkeeper began to explain. "Three months ago, some foreigner settled here—may he be torn to pieces! He's bewitched all the young men. And with what, do you think? Dice games. Now they play from morning to night and from night to morning. And whoever loses everything never shows his face at home again. Twelve young men, modest and obedient as doves, have disappeared without a trace. Not a word has been heard of them."

"Thank you, kind woman, for warning me," said Francesco, though he thought to himself, "Hmm, it seems there's work here for the bag and the club!"

At eight in the morning, Francesco asked the bag for rich clothes and a hundred thousand gold scudi. By ten o'clock, the whole town was talking about how Prince Santo Francesco, known far and wide for his nobility and wealth, had arrived. At noon, a man in a long cloak and a feathered hat knocked on Francesco's door.

"Signor Santo Francesco," he said, "I have lived in this town for only three months, but I have already made the acquaintance of the finest young men. It would be a great honor if you would visit my home. I have heard that you are an excellent dice player. Here, you can showcase your skill."

"To tell the truth," Francesco replied, "I don't even know how to hold dice in my hands. But to get to know such a gracious gentleman better, I am ready to play from morning till night. With such an experienced teacher, I am sure to make rapid progress."

The guest was very pleased. He began bowing so earnestly that, in his distraction, he revealed his right foot from under his cloak. And what did Francesco see? Do you think it was a shoe with a bow? Not at all! He saw a black, hairy hoof.

"Aha!" thought Francesco. "So, it seems Uncle Devil himself has come to visit me. Well, that's good; he'll find just the right kind of trouble here."
That evening, Signor Santo Francesco played dice with Signor Devil. He made quick progress and lost twenty thousand scudi.

On the second evening, Francesco learned to play even better and lost thirty thousand scudi.

Well, on the third evening, he mastered the game perfectly and therefore lost fifty thousand scudi.

At this point, the devil decided he had cleaned the young man out completely.

"My dear Signor Santo Francesco," he said in a wheedling voice. "I am very sorry that my lessons cost you so much. But I can help you. I will return half of your losses so you can win it back."

"And if I don't win it back?" asked Francesco.

"And if you don't win it back, we'll consider that you belong to me, with all your guts, soul, and other trifles."

"Ah, you devilish devil!" exclaimed Francesco. "Now I know where the twelve finest young men of the city have gone. Come on, get into my sack!"

The devil didn't even have time to react before his head was in the sack, and his hooves were dangling in the air. A moment later, both the sack and the hooves disappeared.

Then Francesco said:

"This cheerful gentleman likes to play jokes. Let's play a joke too. Dance, my cudgel, a couple of nice dances."

The cudgel began with a tarantella. And Francesco found that it danced beautifully. But the devil didn't like the cudgel's dance at all.

"I'll give you, Signor Francesco, half of your losses for free!" screamed the devil. "No, I'll give you all your losses. Fine, I'll give you all the money I've won in this city!"

Meanwhile, the cudgel finished the tarantella and started dancing a lively peasant dance, the trescone. The devil pleaded:

"For the sake of the devil himself, make it stop! Tell me, finally, what do you want from me?"

"Rest a little," Francesco ordered the cudgel. "So, listen to me, devil. First of all, release the twelve young men you dragged to hell. Then disappear yourself, so that no trace of you remains on earth."

"Everything will be done," shouted the devil, "just let me out of the sack!"

Francesco untied the sack, and the devil jumped out like a cat scalded with boiling water. He stamped his hoof, jumped, and with a crash, disappeared into the ground. And from beneath the ground emerged the twelve young men.

"Well," Francesco said to them, "shall we play dice?"

"What, what!" all twelve shouted at once. "We don't even want to look at that devilish game now."

"That's the way!" praised Francesco. "The one who doesn't play wins the most. Here's a thousand scudi each, go and make your parents happy. They've cried their eyes out waiting for you."

The young men thanked their savior and went home.

And Francesco tied the sack to his belt, tucked the cudgel under his arm, and left the city.

Wherever Francesco stopped, there was always work for the sack and the cudgel. Because everywhere there were those who needed help and wrongdoers who needed to be taught a lesson.

In Italy, there are countless roads, and Francesco walked many of them, but his feet eventually led him back to his native village.

There, Francesco learned that the famine in the Niolo mountains had become even more severe. Francesco decided to help his fellow villagers. He opened a tavern. It was an amazing tavern—they fed people to their fill, and no payment was required. The cudgel lay idle all the time, but the sack had more than enough work!

"Hey, roast chicken, into the sack! Hey, three round loaves of bread—into the sack! Hey, a bottle of wine—into the sack!" the tavern keeper would shout from time to time.

This went on for three years, while the famine lasted in the Niolo mountains. Finally, the land grew tired of idleness, and in the fourth year, it rewarded the peasants with a bountiful harvest.

Every home smelled of baked bread, wheels of cheese lay on the shelves in the pantries, and sheep bleated in the yards. But the doors to the tavern never closed.

"Eh," said Francesco, "it's time for my sack to rest. Enough of it being a cook. Feeding the well-fed means feeding them not bread, but laziness."

And he closed the tavern.

Soon, Francesco was struck by grief. His old father fell ill and, after a short illness, passed away.

Then Francesco began to miss his brothers. Even though they had once abandoned him in the middle of the road, Francesco had long since stopped being angry with them—after all, they were his own brothers.

And so one evening, he said:

"Angelo, my elder brother! I don't want to offend you, but there's no other way for us to meet. Get into my sack."

Immediately, the sack grew heavier. Francesco looked inside and recoiled. There lay only half-decayed bones. Francesco realized that Angelo had died long ago.
– Giovanni, my brother, – he called to his second brother. And again, the sack contained only bones.

And so it went all eleven times. Francesco realized he was alone in the world. Then he said:

– Well, my faithful companions – the sack and the club, let us wander the roads together. Whoever I do good to will call me brother.

From village to village Francesco walked, sometimes along mountain paths, sometimes along traveled roads, and sometimes with no paths or roads at all. And ahead of him went his reputation. Upon hearing of Francesco's approach, the wicked rulers, greedy moneylenders, and cunning monks trembled at night. But those who were unhappy and wronged rejoiced. They truly called Francesco their brother.

Years flowed by. And then came the time when people, addressing Francesco, no longer called him brother, but father. And a decade later, they began to call him grandfather. Francesco's hair turned white, his back bent, and his face became covered with wrinkles. But he still wandered through Italy with his faithful companions – the sack and the club.

One evening, Francesco, breathing heavily, was climbing a hill. Suddenly, he heard footsteps behind him. Francesco turned and saw Death catching up to him. Death was breathing even harder than Francesco, for she was very old. As old as the world itself. Moreover, she was pushing a cart covered with burlap.

Death approached and said:

– Finally, I've caught up with you! I'm completely worn out. Am I some young girl to run after you on a hundred roads? Look how many shoes I've worn out.

And Death pulled back the burlap from the cart. Indeed, the cart was piled high with tattered shoes.

Francesco saw the junk the old woman was dragging with her and smiled.

Death grumbled again:

– It's easy for you to walk light, but I can't abandon the cart until I catch you. Well, Francesco, you've walked many roads, now prepare for the longest, the final road.

– Well, – replied Francesco, – as the proverb says: a person cannot say yes or no twice – when it's time to be born and when it's time to die. But, you see, I need to say goodbye to someone first.

Death laughed, like the creak of rusty iron.

– Eh, my dear, it seems you're bargaining, and I don't like that.

And Death stretched out her bony hands toward Francesco. But Francesco managed to shout:

– Death, into the sack!

Oh, how the bones rattled when Death tumbled into the sack!

Francesco hoisted the sack onto his back and went where he wanted. His path led to the shores of Lake Creno.

When he reached Lake Creno, he released Death from the sack and said to her:

– I pity you, old woman! Surely, your bones ache no less than mine. The grass here is soft, sit and rest while I finish my business.

Death was so frightened that she dared not argue with Francesco. She moved aside and, groaning, sat down under a tree.

Francesco approached the lake shore and called out:

– Fairy of Lake Creno, show yourself to me once more!

And the fairy appeared. She was as beautiful and young as she had been many years ago, when Francesco himself was young.

– You called me, and I have come, – she said kindly.

– I want to tell you what I have done with your gifts.

– There's no need to tell me, – the fairy interrupted Francesco. – I can see your face, the face of a good man. Your lips hide a kind smile, and the wrinkles on your forehead speak of wisdom. I am glad I was not mistaken in you.

– I did what I could, – replied Francesco. – But the time has come to return your gifts. You see, over there by the tree, Death is waiting for me.

– It's good that you thought of this, – said the fairy. – For even a magical sack and a magical club can do nothing on their own; only the person who wields them can. Should they fall into the hands of an evil person – the evil deeds would be countless. But fairies do not take back their gifts. Build a fire and burn the sack and the club. Farewell, Francesco!

The fairy kissed the old man and disappeared, as if she had melted away.

Francesco gathered some kindling, lit a large fire, and threw the gifts of the Fairy of Lake Creno into the flames. He moved closer to the fire to warm his chilled hands and fell into deep thought.

– It's time, Francesco, – Death called softly. Francesco did not stir. With age, he had grown hard of hearing. Then Death approached him from behind and touched his shoulder with her hand.

At that moment, a rooster crowed. A new day had begun. But Francesco did not see it.

↑ To the top

Gifts of the Fairy of Krenskoye Lake

More fairy tales