Latin American Folktales

by John Bierhorst

  As for the friend, when he got to the palace, he told the king that his wife had turned out to be a woman no better than she should be, who of all things had insisted on traveling by herself. Then the king, with his friend in tow, set out immediately to see what the truth might be. When they arrived at the parents’ house, the wife was already there, but neither the king nor his friend recognized her in men’s clothes. And who should be there as well but His Reverence, the canon, who himself had made false accusations years earlier when his advances had been rebuffed.

  So there they were all together in the same room, and as they sat around swapping stories, each told his own tale. The queen in disguise, when it was her turn to speak, told the story of the canon and the king’s false friend, not omitting a single detail. Before she had finished, the friend and the canon were shaking with fear. Then she turned around to the king and said, “Would you recognize your wife if you saw her?”

  “Why, of course! I’d know her if she’d been changed into corn soup!” For the king had begun to realize who she was. In that instant she revealed herself and pointed to those who had tried to force her. The king begged her forgiveness, then asked, “What punishment for the canon and my old friend?”

  “It’s up to you, my dear.” And the king ordered them tied to the tail of a horse and dragged until dead, then burned until there was nothing left but ashes. As soon as that matter had been taken care of, the king and his wife returned to their own country.

  New Mexico / Juan Julián Archuleta

  26. The Story That Became a Dream

  This was a young man out traveling, who came to a town he hadn’t known before. Strolling along the streets he peered through an entranceway and saw a beautiful young woman sitting down to tea. She caught his fancy, and every day from then on he passed by her door just to catch a glimpse of her.

  One day he came to a full stop and asked permission to light his cigar at her fireplace. With this little excuse he struck up a conversation and soon was asking, “Are you married or single?”

  “Single,” she said. But it wasn’t true; the lady was married. Her husband, it seems, was an idler who had nothing better to do than crawl the streets up and down, coming home to his wife at night and sometimes not even then.

  As it happened, the woman’s admirer had the same occupation as the husband, and since the two of them frequented the same places, it wasn’t long before they were friends.

  All the while, the admirer was paying daily visits to the wife, and occasionally he would come to her when it was dark. After their first night together he pledged his love by giving her an expensive ring with his name engraved inside the band.

  One night, just as the lovers were saying their good-byes, there came a knock at the door. The woman called, “Who is it?”

  “Your husband!” came the answer.

  The lover whispered, “What? You mean you’re married?”

  “We’ll talk about that later. The important thing is to get you out of the way.” She hid him under a pile a wool in one corner of the room.

  Covered up and all muffled around the ears, the lover was unable to see the husband or recognize his voice. Finally, at three in the morning, he managed to slip away. The next day he recounted the adventure to his friend.

  “Well! Aren’t you the lucky one!” said the friend. “Good-looking girl, huh? And you’re going to be there again tonight?”

  “Why not? Fresh love, you know.”

  But if the husband thought it would be easy to catch his rival in the act, he was mistaken. The wife was too quick for him, always hiding the lover in a different spot. Worse, the husband had to listen to his friend’s tales of adventure the following day. “Old buddy,” he’d start out, “that husband doesn’t have a chance. He’s a louse, he’s outrageous. She doesn’t even want him around. And listen, he sticks his nose into every nook and cranny. But she knows where to hide me!”

  “Oh, you don’t say! She must be crazy about you. What luck!”

  One night, at a loss for a new place to hide her lover, the wife put him in a little shed just off the kitchen where the cook threw dishwater and food scraps. It was a foul hiding place, but the man had no choice. The husband, after checking everywhere else, tossed a pebble into the waste shed, saying, “Take this, wherever you are, you piece of filth!” The stone splashed the lover with mud from head to foot. Yet he was able to keep still and not be seen.

  The next day he reported it all to his friend, who pretended to be only mildly interested; and after giving his wife’s lover a congratulatory pat on the back, he went off to see his father-in-law, who had a country place not far from town. He said, “You ought to know what kind of daughter you have!” and he explained what had been happening.

  The father sent for the daughter at once and locked her in a room. Then he told his son-in-law to invite his friend to dinner. He would judge for himself whether his daughter was guilty. If he found that she was, he would kill the two of them on the spot.

  The husband went back to town and soon returned with his friend. At noon the three men gathered at the table for a convivial meal, course after course washed down with draughts of wine. When dessert came, the host proposed that each relate his little adventures, beginning with himself, and he proceeded to tell an amorous tale he’d no doubt invented but that drew appreciative snorts all around.

  “Now it’s your turn,” said the host, gesturing to the invited guest.

  “Very well,” said the guest, and without an inkling of what lay in store he began to relate his adventures with the host’s own daughter, sparing not the smallest item. And the poor young woman heard everything through the door!

  When he got to the part about the pebble and the waste shed, he started to feel his throat getting dry and he called for a cup of water. “Take wine!” they offered. But no, he needed water. And with that he was saved, because when the servant woman went out to the kitchen to get the water, the host’s daughter called to her through an open window and, without attracting the servant’s notice, she took off the ring her lover had given her and dropped it into the cup.

  Seeing the ring, the guest drained the cup, slipped the ring into his vest pocket, and went on with the story: “So, after the husband looked all over the house and couldn’t find me, he was so furious he picked up a stone and threw it into the waste shed and said, ‘Take this, wherever you are, you piece of filth!’ And it was a direct hit. I was splashed all over with mud—and just at that moment I woke up in a sweat, frightened to death!”

  “What?” said the old man. “You mean it was only a dream?”

  “Sir, what do you take me for?” said the guest. “Do you think I would have told such a story if it had been true?”

  “Rogue!” cried the old gentleman, turning to his son-in-law. “Vile scandal monger! You’ve trifled with my honor. Now make your peace with God, because you’ve breathed your last.” And with one thrust of his dagger he hushed him up forever.

  They buried the dead man in the garden, and no one ever asked questions.

  As for the dinner guest, he became a frequent visitor at the old man’s country estate, and before the year was out he married the young widow who had figured so prominently in his story.

  Chile / José Manuel Reyes

  27. St. Theresa and the Lord

  The Lord went walking with St. Theresa one day and they came to a house that had an open window. There in the window, for all to see, a husband and wife were kissing. The Lord noticed this and refused to give them his blessing.

  They walked on, and they came to another pair of lovers, this time unmarried, and the lovers hid when they saw them coming. As the Lord passed, he gave them his blessing. St. Theresa was puzzled, but she didn’t say a word.

  They kept on, and they came to a humble little inn, a place so poor there was just one mug for the four people who were the customers, and two of them were fighting over it. The Lord went in and took away the mug, which made St. Theresa wond
er. They went on and came to an expensive inn, and the Lord stopped and gave the mug to the innkeeper.

  “Lord, tell me,” said St. Theresa, “why did you bless those people who weren’t married, and why did you take the mug from that poor little innkeeper?” The Lord said, “If you want to know, travel the main highway, and soon you’ll find out.”

  St. Theresa went on by herself. She came to the highway and settled down at a mule drivers’ stopping place. After a while a man on horseback came along and pulled up to rest. He fell asleep, and when he awoke it was well after nightfall. In the dark he was frightened and confused. He jumped on his horse and rode off so fast he left his money on the ground where he had been sleeping.

  Now, in that town there was an old man who had the habit of begging food from a certain lady, who would always give him a few little gordas to keep him from starving. He came along, then, and sat down to build a fire to heat up his gordas. By the firelight he saw the purse that had been left by the horseman who had fallen asleep. In his excitement he forgot about the gordas and went off counting the money and praising the Lord.

  When he had gone, a mule driver pulled up. He was a poor man who had been traveling three days without food, and when he saw the gordas that had been left there for anyone to take he sat down and toasted them over the fire. He was a man who never remembered his Maker, yet on this occasion, when he was so badly in need, he praised the Lord over and over again. At just that moment the horseman who had left the money came back and heard the prayer of thanks. Enraged, he demanded his money.

  “But, sir,” said the mule driver, “I didn’t see any money, only this fire and these little gordas. The other man said, “You’re a liar. Hand over the money or I’ll kill you.” The poor mule driver kept protesting that he had seen no money until finally the exasperated horseman strangled him and rode away.

  After witnessing all this, St. Theresa went back to the Lord and asked for an explanation.

  The Lord said to her, “I blessed the lovers because they feared me. I did not bless the married couple because they were shameless.

  “And the mug, I took it because the innkeeper allowed fighting and stealing, and I gave it to the other innkeeper because in him I found nothing to blame.

  “And I took the money from the man on the horse to save him from damnation.

  “And the old beggar who found the money, I allowed him to have it because I knew he would not forget me.

  “And the mule driver who was killed, I permitted it to happen because he never remembered me until this day. I took his life to keep him from sinning again.”

  Mexico

  28. Rice from Ashes

  People tell the story of a girl who lost her mother. They say her father turned around and married a woman who had two daughters of her own. The cruel stepmother made her husband’s daughter the house servant, and right from the start the two stepsisters would have nothing to do with her. She had only a little lamb to keep her company, and one day her stepmother came into the kitchen and said, “Butcher the lamb!”

  The girl started to cry. Then the stepmother held out a plate of rice and said, “If you don’t kill the lamb, you’ll have to separate this rice from ashes.” She spilled all the rice onto the hearth and went off to take her midday nap.

  The girl was wondering how she could ever separate the rice, when a dove appeared. “Why do you cry, child?” “Because my stepmother says I have to separate this rice before she gets up from her nap.”

  “Lie down and sleep,” said the dove. I’ll take care of it.” As the girl lay down, a flock of doves arrived, and in no time the clean rice was heaped on the plate just as before. When the stepmother got up from her nap she hardly knew what to think. The next day she poured sand into a dish of lentils.

  “If you don’t kill the lamb,” she said, “you’ll have to separate these lentils. Do it before I wake up.” The girl began to cry. But a flock of birds arrived and picked out the lentils while the stepmother napped.

  The day after that, the stepmother threw sugar onto the hearth and ordered the girl to kill the lamb or pick the sugar clean. She went off to her nap. Hearing the girl’s cries, a large ant appeared and told the poor child not to worry. This was the ant queen, who commanded many workers. Immediately the ants came crawling over the hearth, and when the stepmother got up from her nap the sugar was heaped in the dish.

  Another day passed, and the stepmother came into the kitchen and said, “Kill the lamb, or you’ll have to spin these two bags of wool into thread. Do it before I finish my nap.” The girl began to weep. The lamb said to her, “Don’t cry. I’ll do it for you.” As the girl watched, the lamb dragged the wool from the bags and stretched it out until it was all in a beautiful thread.

  When the stepmother saw that the wool had been spun, she was furious. But when she examined the lamb, she found one wisp stuck to its little anus. Since every wisp had not been spun, she ordered her stepdaughter to kill the lamb and cook it for supper that very night.

  The girl wept uncontrollably. But the lamb told her she should not be sad. “Calm down! Take me out and butcher me, and in my bowels you will find a little cup. This you must remove and keep always.”

  So she led the lamb to the riverbank, slit its throat, and quartered the carcass. When she found the cup, she set it aside.

  Just then a little old man came by and asked for a drink. She dipped some water with the cup and gave it to him. Then she returned to the house and laid the cup in the bottom of the trunk where she kept her belongings.

  The girl went often to the cemetery to visit her mother’s grave. A little tree grew there, and in the tree there was a bird with a beautiful song. The girl would sit beneath the tree weeping, telling her troubles to her dead mother. As she told them, one by one, the bird’s singing would take them away.

  At home now, without the lamb, she had no one to be her friend. Out of meanness, just to remind her of her loss, her stepsisters had their mother buy them each a lamb of their own. The stepsisters’ lambs grew quickly, and when not a leaf or a blade of grass was left in sight, the mother told her daughters that these lambs, too, would have to be butchered.

  First the older daughter went out to kill her lamb. It made her cry to do so, but the lamb told her she must not be sad. She must look for a little cup inside the lamb’s belly and take it for her own. She must also remember to be kindhearted and help those in need.

  She butchered the lamb, and sure enough, there was the cup. At that moment a little old man came by and asked for water. The stepsister answered, “I don’t give water to filthy old men.”

  This little man was God.

  The following day the younger of the two stepsisters went out to kill her lamb, and the lamb gave her the same advice. She, too, found a cup in the lamb’s bowels and met the same little old man asking for water. She answered him contemptuously, “If you want water, bend down and drink from the river.” The old man got down on his hands and knees and drank.

  Now, in the town there was a king whose queen had died and who had a son. On her deathbed the queen had told the prince he would someday marry a woman who would bring him a cup of gold, because this was the fate predicted by the prince’s fairy godmother when he was born. The prince had now grown up, and the king proclaimed that any young woman with a cup of gold was to present herself at the palace.

  When the stepmother heard this news, she drew up her skirts and ran as fast as she could to the center of town. She told the king that the girl with the golden cup was her own daughter. The next day the prince mounted a swift steed and set out to claim his bride. Arriving at the stepmother’s house, he asked for the girl with the cup.

  Both sisters stepped forward and began to shove each other. To settle the matter, the mother pointed to the older girl, “Go with the prince!”

  The prince put her behind him on his horse and started off for the palace. But as they were passing the cemetery, the little bird that lived in the tree sang out,


  Swift young lord, turn back, turn back. Your companion-to-be is awaiting you yet.

  The bird kept repeating its song until the prince turned around to the girl and asked her to show him the cup. She placed it in his hands and he saw that it was iron. Returning to the house, he said to the stepmother, “This is not my bride.”

  The younger of the two sisters now came to the door with her cup in her hand. It was all gold. The prince put her on the back of his horse and set off. But when they got to the cemetery, the bird sang out from the tree,

  Swift young lord, turn back, turn back. Your companion-to-be is awaiting you yet.

  The prince asked for the cup, and when the girl handed it to him he saw once again that what had been gold was now iron. He rushed back to the house and asked the girl’s mother if she had another daughter. The woman said no.

  The prince insisted, “She has to be somewhere!” With the mother denying it, he ran into the house and started pulling everything apart. When he got to the kitchen, there was the orphan girl. He asked her, “Do you have the golden cup?” She had no idea why he asked but said simply, “Yes.”

  The prince told her to sit behind him on his horse, while the stepmother tried desperately to explain that this was only a kitchen girl. The prince replied, “It doesn’t matter,” for all he needed was to find the young woman who owned the cup.

  As they passed the cemetery the little bird ruffled its feathers contentedly and sang,