All this happened in Pokapalje, a small mountain village. Its houses are crowded at the very top of a high hill. The slopes of the hill are so steep that when the time comes for the hens to lay eggs, the inhabitants of Pocapallia tie a linen bag to each hen. If you don’t tie them up, the eggs will roll down the slope, straight to the foot of the hill, overgrown with dense forest. Why does this show that the inhabitants of Pokapalya are not at all such couch potatoes as they are reputed to be.
They tell a lot of things about the poor people. There was even a saying: “In Pokapalje it’s the other way around – the donkey urges, the owner brays.” But this saying was invented by peasants from the valley. After all, the inhabitants of the valleys are just waiting for a chance to laugh at the inhabitants of the mountains. In the meantime, they laughed especially willingly at the fingers. “For what?” – you ask. Yes, only because they were flexible people and did not contradict anyone in anything.
“Uh,” they answered the scoffers, “give time, our Mazino will return, then we’ll see who roars louder - us or you!”
But while the fingers know who Mazino is, you don’t? Well, that's it.
Mazino is the favorite of the entire village. Don't think that he is some kind of hero. Not at all.
Mazino was born a real runt, small and frail. His mother was afraid that he would completely change his mind about living in the world, and decided to bathe him in warm wine. Father Mazino heated a horseshoe red-hot on the fire and put it in a tub of wine to heat it up. After such a bath, Mazino became as cunning as wine and strong as iron. And the shells of unripe chestnuts were placed in little Mazino’s cradle. After all, everyone knows that bitter green chestnuts make a person smart. And it’s true, Mazino didn’t need to occupy his mind - he had enough of his own.
That's what Mazino is like! Where was he supposed to come from? From Africa. He served there as a soldier.
Meanwhile, something incomprehensible began to happen in Pokapalye. Every evening the witch Michillina stole either a cow or a bull from the herd of Pokapalians.
The terrible witch Michillina lived in the forest at the very foot of the hill. All she had to do was blow and the cow was gone. The peasants, hearing the witch rustling and fidgeting in the forest as darkness fell, chattered their teeth in fear and fell to their knees, calling on all the saints. They even composed poems:
The donkey drives, the owner brays, he lives down under the mountain of Michillina.
At night we are afraid to step on the threshold:
Sneeze Michillina - We are falling off our feet.
In the dead of night, again and again, Bulls and cows disappear from us.
The terrible witch is the cause of all disasters!
Tremble, run, Michillina is coming!
Previously, in Pokapalje, cows grazed as much as they wanted and when they wanted, and spent the night wherever they wanted. Now they were herded into a clearing at night, sentries were posted and huge fires were lit. But this didn’t help either. Because as soon as the damned witch Michillina stirred in the bushes, the watchmen huddled close to the fire, plugged their ears with their fingers and closed their eyes. And just before dawn, lo and behold, the herd is again missing one, or even two cows. Here the watchmen began to scream and cry, shook their fists and cursed the witch.
Don't think that they weren't looking for cows. The peasants of Pokapalya even organized raids, only, of course, during the day. But they never saw either the cows or Michillina herself. With the onset of day, Michillina disappeared, leaving only the footprints of huge boots on the damp ground and strands of long black hair on the thorny branches of the bush.
The poor people had to lock their cows in barns for the time being and not let them out even one step.
Weeks and months passed. The cows are completely sick when locked up. They were so thin that instead of a comb, they could be cleaned with a rake - the teeth of the rake fit perfectly between the protruding ribs.
No one dared to take cattle to pasture, no one went into the forest, and the mushrooms, which no one picked, grew as big as an umbrella.
The inhabitants of Pocapaglia gathered every evening in the village square to decide what to do. The evenings in the mountains are cold, and the Pokapalians made a fire. Sitting by the fire, they scratched their heads and cursed their unfortunate fate, and at the same time the witch Michillina.
They scratched their heads for seven days, scratched them twice for seven days, scratched them three times for seven days, and finally decided to ask the count himself for protection.
The count lived in a round castle on top of a nearby hill. The castle was surrounded by a high stone wall, thickly studded with nails and broken glass on top.
Then one fine morning the Pokapalians approached the castle gates. They took off their round, torn hats and only then dared to knock on the gate. The door was opened for them, and the men found themselves in the castle courtyard. They saw many of the count's mercenary soldiers. The soldiers sat on the ground and smeared olive oil on their bushy red mustaches. And in the middle of the courtyard, in a velvet chair, sat the count himself. Four soldiers, as powerful as young oak trees, were diligently combing the count’s long, very long black beard with four combs. They scratched it from the very top to the very bottom, and then again from the very top to the very bottom.
The eldest of the Pokapalians shifted from foot to foot for a long time, finally plucked up courage and spoke:
“We have come to ask your lordship for help.”
The Count did not say a word.
“The damned witch Michillina,” continued the old man, “has completely tormented us.”
The Count did not say a word.
“We want,” the old man added, “to ask your lordship for great mercy.” Order your soldiers to catch the witch Michillina so that we can graze our cows in peace.
Here the count opened his mouth.
“If I send soldiers into the forest, I will have to send a captain too...” The peasants smiled joyfully. “But if I send the captain,” said the count, “with whom will I play lotto in the evenings?”
The peasants fell to their knees.
- Have mercy, Signor Count, help us!
And the soldiers around yawned with all their might and smeared their red mustaches with olive oil.
The Count said:
- I am a count and worth three. So I’ll tell you – no, no and no. And anyway, since I haven’t seen your witch Michillina, it means there is no witch.
Here the soldiers yawned for the last time, took their guns at the ready and began to slowly advance on the Kapapalians. They backed away and backed away and did not even notice how they found themselves outside the gate.
The Pokapalians had no choice but to gather again in the evening in the square, make a fire and scratch their heads. An hour later one of the peasants said:
– Shouldn’t you write to us Mazino?
Everyone was happy. We wrote a letter and sent it.
And then one evening Mazino came on leave.
There was so much noise and joy here! Mazino was surrounded on all sides. They questioned him vying with each other and told stories vying with each other. Every two words they remembered the witch Michillina.
Mazino listened to everyone, and then spoke himself:
– In Africa, I saw cannibals who had to eat locusts because people did not agree to be eaten. In the sea I saw a fish wearing a shoe and a shoe; she wanted to become the queen of fish only because her friends had neither a shoe nor a shoe. I saw a woman in Sicily who had seventy sons and only one pot of soup. I saw how in Naples people rush along the street without moving their legs, because if two Neapolitans stop to gossip on the corner, such a wind rises from their shout that it is impossible to stand still on all four streets. I saw people black and white, yellow and red, I saw people as thin as a buffalo and thick as a sliver, I saw many brave men, and even more cowards. But I have never seen such cowards as in my native Pokapalje.
Fellow villagers listened to Mazino's speeches with open ears and open mouths. However, when he reached the end, their mouths slammed shut, and for the first time they wondered whether they should be offended.
But Masino didn't give them time to think about it properly. He spoke again:
“Now I will ask you three questions, and when midnight strikes, I will go to catch your witch Michillina.”
Where was there to be offended!
- Ask! Ask! - the Pokapalians shouted in unison.
- Let the barber answer first. How many beards has he had to shave and trim over the past six months? And the barber answered:
Soft beards, hard beards, long beards, flat beards, well-groomed beards, dirty beards, curly beards, different beards. I cut and shave countless times - That’s our job!
“That’s what I thought,” Masino said. - Now let the shoemaker speak.
How many boots have they ordered for you over the past six months?
- Aime! - the shoemaker sighed.
I'm ringing socles. I used to make shoes with carved heels...
Apparently, Pokapalya has become completely impoverished:
I sit idle, I walk barefoot!
– And this seems to be true! - said Mazino. – Let the ropeman answer my third question. How many ropes have you sold in the last six months?
And the ropeman replied:
Strong, braided ropes, Strong, twisted ropes, Twine, drap and rope, Ribbons, threads and twine Over the past weeks, they have managed to buy from me...
“Now, perhaps, that’s all,” said Mazino. “I’m very tired from the road.”
I'll take a nap for an hour or two. Wake me up at midnight and I'll go get the witch.
Mazino lay down by the fire, pulled his soldier’s helmet over his eyes and began to snore. Until midnight, the Kapals sat motionless, they were afraid to even breathe, so as not to wake up the soldier.
Exactly at midnight, Mazino jumped to his feet, drank a pot of warm wine, spat three times into the fire and, without looking at anyone, walked along the road to the forest.
The villagers began to wait. Little by little, all the logs in the fire turned into coal. Then all the coals turned to ash. Then the ashes began to turn black and black...
By this time Mazino returned. He was dragging... Who do you think? The Count himself! Mazino dragged him by his long black beard, and the Count begged, screamed, resisted and kicked.
- Here's your witch! - said Mazino and, looking around, asked worriedly: - Where did you put the hot wine?
Although the fire was still warm, the count curled up into a ball, like a fly in the autumn cold.
And the Pokapalians looked first at the count, then at Mazino, and could not utter words from surprise.
- Well, why be surprised!? – Mazino shouted at his fellow villagers. - It's very simple. The witch Michillina had a long beard. And the barber said that you all shave properly. This means that none of the inhabitants of Pokapaglina could be the Michillina witch and leave tufts of beards on the bushes.
The witch Michillina put on good boots. And the shoemaker said that the Pokapalians had forgotten how to put shoes on their feet. This means, again, none of you were the witch Michilyaina and did not leave traces of huge boots lined with nails on the ground. And if the witch Michillina really was mine, why, pray tell, would she buy so many ropes? After all, evil spirits don’t need to tie up stolen cattle... But where did the hot wine go?!
Meanwhile, the count tried to hide in his own beard, because there was nowhere else to hide.
Mazino asked:
- What should we do with him?
The Pokapalians, who had been silent until now, now began to shout all at once:
-Strangle him with your own beard!
- Put it in the garden instead of a scarecrow!
– Put in a bag with six dogs and six cats.
“Eh,” said Mazino, “all this is of little use.” First of all, let him return all the stolen bulls and cows. Let him clean out the barns in which the Pokapalian cattle are locked because of him. Well, then let him graze the herd until the ribs of the cows are covered with meat and fat.
And so they did.
And Mazino, having arranged the affairs of his fellow villagers, again went to serve as a soldier.
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru