Massaro the Truth

Once upon a time, there lived a king who had a goat, a lamb, a ram, and a red, curly-horned cow. The king was very proud of his herd. The goat, the lamb, the ram, and the red cow grazed in the royal garden, and every morning the king fed them with his own hands.

Everything would have been fine if it weren’t for the court ladies. They would shriek at the sight of the cow, and they would kiss and cuddle the lamb so much that it began to waste away from all the affection.

The king didn’t know what to do. Then the chief minister advised him to send the herd to a mountain pasture.

"That might be a good idea," agreed the king. "But where can I find a shepherd I can trust more than my own ministers? You are always under my watch, but a shepherd roams the mountains day and night."

They began searching for a trustworthy man. Messengers were sent in all directions. They searched far and wide but found the right person close by: near the city walls lived a peasant, the most honest man in the world. Never in his life had this man lied; he always spoke the truth. He was even nicknamed Master Truth—Massaro Truth.

The king summoned him and entrusted him with his beloved animals.

"Every Saturday," the king said to the shepherd, "you must come to the palace and report on how things are going."

And so it began. Every Saturday, Massaro Truth would descend from the mountains, enter the royal chambers, remove his felt hat, and bow low.

"Greetings, Your Majesty!"

"Greetings, Massaro Truth! How is my little goat?"

"Fresh as a rose."

"And my lamb?"

"Frolicking like a child."

"Tell me quickly about the ram."

"The ram is blooming like a daisy."

"And my beloved cow?"

"She’s perfectly healthy!"

The king would nod graciously, and Massaro Truth would return to his herd.

Before, the king had no one to compare his ministers to. But now he noticed that his ministers would occasionally lie. This displeased the king, and, of course, the ministers were displeased with the royal shepherd. One day, the chief minister said to the king, "Do you really believe, Your Majesty, that Massaro Truth always tells the truth? Such people don’t exist in this world."

"Oh, no!" exclaimed the king. "I’d wager his head that he never lies."

"And I’d wager my head," the chief minister shouted in a fit of anger, "that he’ll deceive you this very Saturday!"

"Very well," said the king. "If he deceives me, I’ll order the shepherd’s head to be cut off. But if he doesn’t, the executioner will cut off your head."

The minister bit his tongue, but it was too late. He began to think of how to make Massaro Truth lie. But the more he thought, the less he could come up with. Only three days remained until Saturday, and the minister felt his head wasn’t so firmly attached to his shoulders. On Thursday morning, the minister’s wife asked her husband, "What’s happened to you? Why are you so worried?"

"Leave me alone," grumbled the husband. "As if I need to consult my wife about state affairs."

But once a woman’s curiosity is piqued, she won’t rest until she finds out everything she wants to know. Within an hour, the chief minister had told his wife about the bet with the king.

"Is that all?!" said the wife. "Don’t worry, I’ll make sure your head stays on your shoulders."

And she began to dress up. She put on a satin dress with lace, a pearl necklace around her neck, bracelets on her wrists, and rings on her fingers. Then she got into a carriage and rode to the mountains. She reached the mountain pasture and saw Massaro Truth with the royal herd.

She stepped out of the carriage and waved her lace handkerchief at him. The shepherd was dumbstruck—he had never seen such a beautifully dressed and elegant lady.

"Oh, how lovely it is here," she said in the sweetest voice. "So lovely that I could kiss everyone in the world out of joy."

"Then kiss me, Your Grace. For one of your kisses, I’d give anything."

"Give me that little goat. I’ve always wanted one like it."

"Ah," said Massaro Truth, "that I cannot do! Ask for something else."

"Well, then the lamb."

"Let’s agree, Your Radiance," said Massaro Truth. "I’ll give you anything except the goat, the lamb, the ram, and the red cow. The animals aren’t mine—so there’s no point in discussing it."

"Oh, come now! There are plenty of steep cliffs and deep ravines in the mountains," the minister’s wife began to persuade him. "The lamb could always slip."

"But it hasn’t slipped," replied the puzzled Massaro.

"But you could tell the king it did. And in return, I’ll add all my rings to the kiss."

Massaro shook his head.

In vain, the lady took off her rings, bracelets, brooches, buckles, and finally even her pearl necklace. The shepherd wouldn’t even look at them. Furious, the lady got back into her carriage and rode away.

At home, she told her husband, "That shepherd is so stubborn!" The minister clutched his head and groaned.

"Don’t worry about your head," said his wife. "All is not lost yet. You know me: if I want something, I’ll get it."

The next morning, the chief minister’s wife dressed in rags and ran to the mountain pasture.

"Woe is me, woe!" she began to wail as soon as she saw the shepherd.

"What’s wrong, good woman?" Massaro Truth asked sympathetically.

"My only son, my little flower, is dying. The doctor said he needs to drink fresh milk morning and evening for a whole year. But I’m so poor that all I can give him is water."

And she wept even louder.

Massaro Truth’s heart couldn’t take it.

"Very well, I’ll give you the king’s favorite—the red cow."

"Thank you, shepherd!" exclaimed the woman. "But listen to my advice, tell the king..."

"Don’t worry," replied the shepherd. "I’ll think of something to tell the king."

Returning home, the minister’s wife announced to her husband, "It’s done. Your head is safe now. But as for that fool shepherd’s head, no one will give a penny for it."

"But the smartest head is yours, my dear wife. It should be the minister’s head," said the chief minister, kissing his wife. "Now I’ll take the cow to the palace, and we’ll see what the shepherd tells the king tomorrow."

Meanwhile, Massaro Truth sat on a rock, thinking about what he would tell the king the next day. He took his shepherd’s staff, stuck it in the ground, draped his cloak over it, and placed his felt hat on top. Then he bowed low to the staff.

"Greetings, Your Majesty!" he said to the staff.

"Greetings, Massaro Truth," he replied for the king. "How is my little goat?"

"Fresh as a rose."

"And my lamb?"

"Frolicking like a child."

"Tell me quickly about the ram."

"The ram is blooming like a daisy."

"And my beloved cow?"

"The cow... The cow fell... fell, I say, from a high cliff. No, that’s not it..."

Massaro Truth pulled the staff out of the ground and stuck it in another spot. Then he stepped back three paces and started over.

"Greetings, Your Majesty!"

Everything went smoothly until the conversation turned to the cow. But as soon as the shepherd asked himself in the king’s voice, "And my beloved cow?" his tongue began to stumble.

"Wolves... the wolves ate her... No, that’s not it either."

He took the staff and stuck it in a third spot. But that didn’t help either. The words wouldn’t come out right no matter how he tried.

Finally, Massaro Truth took the cloak off the staff, wrapped himself tightly in it, and lay down to sleep.

When Massaro opened his eyes, it was already Saturday morning, and it was time to go to the king. He walked quickly, but by noon he hadn’t even reached halfway. And all because he stopped at every tree, bowed, and spoke to the king. But nothing came of the conversation, and Massaro moved on to the next tree. Suddenly, at the twentieth tree, the shepherd came up with a brilliant answer. He immediately cheered up and ran down the mountain so fast that the pebbles he kicked couldn’t catch up with him.

Meanwhile, the king, surrounded by his courtiers, had been waiting for the shepherd for a long time. Finally, Massaro Truth entered the palace, removed his felt hat, bowed, and said, "Greetings, Your Majesty!"

"Greetings, Massaro Truth. How is my little goat?"

"Fresh as a rose."

"And my lamb?"

"Frolicking like a child."

"Tell me quickly about the ram."

"The ram is blooming like a daisy."

"And my beloved cow?" asked the king, winking at the chief minister.

Then the shepherd said what he had come up with on the way: "Oh, Your Majesty, you no longer have a cow. Punish me or pardon me, but I gave her to a woman. I listened to the poor thing and decided she needed the cow more than you. And that’s the honest truth."

The king clapped his hands, and all the courtiers followed suit. Only the chief minister didn’t clap. After all, he had just lost his own head, and it’s hard to rejoice in that.

The king explained everything to the shepherd and finally added, "For not fearing the king’s wrath, you may ask for a royal reward."

"Well, then," replied Massaro, "I’ll ask. Leave the chief minister’s head where it is, on his shoulders."

"I’ll have to leave it, since I promised you," replied the king. "But explain to me why you’re asking for him."

"It’s very simple," said the shepherd. "For years, I’ve been called Massaro Truth. But it’s easy to tell the truth when you don’t need to lie. So I didn’t know if the nickname was deserved or not. But now, thanks to your chief minister, I know for sure that I truly am Massaro Truth."

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Massaro the Truth

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