The girl Mariuccia and the young man Matteo lived in the town of Viggianello. The girl was so beautiful that no one called her anything other than “beautiful Mariuccia.” And the young man was the most dexterous, strong and courageous among his peers. Is it any wonder that, having met, the young people fell in love with each other? Well, once they fell in love, the wedding was no longer an issue. In the house of Mariucci's parents, everything was already ready for the wedding feast. They slaughtered a snow-white lamb, two rams, roasted a dozen hares and more than a hundred partridges. According to the old custom, two wicker baskets with sweets were placed near the place where the newlyweds were supposed to sit. After the wedding dinner, the bride and groom will shower each other with sweets so that their life will be sweet, like the honey from which the delicacies are made.
Relatives and guests converged on the house from all sides. Suddenly a rider galloped down the street on a lathered horse. He repeated only one word loudly. But this word instilled confusion in the hearts of the townspeople.
- Saracens! Saracens! - the rider shouted. And now, from the top of the hill overlooking Vigianello, the voices of Colombo and Pellico - two huge sea shells - sounded. In days of peace they were silent. But as soon as the Corsican land was in danger, the watchmen brought them to their lips. Then Colombo and Pellico sang anxiously over the valleys, calling the sons of Corsica to battle. All the men - from beardless youths to gray-bearded elders - heard their call and hurried towards the enemy. Not one of them shied away from sacred military duty. And even if such a despicable person had been found, he would not have been able to wash away the shameful stigma of a coward until the end of his days.
So it is this time. Before Colombo and Pellico had time to fall silent, the men, leaving their crying wives and children, clanking their weapons as they ran, rushed to the seashore where the Saracens had landed. And ahead of everyone, Matteo raced on a good horse.
The fight was brutal. But the courage of the defenders did not save the city, because for every resident of Viggianello there were ten Saracens. Enemy hordes rushed into the city, destroying everything in their path.
Poor, poor Corsica! Burnt villages lie in ruins, fertile valleys are devastated, and your beautiful daughters are taken into slavery.
Mariuccia did not escape the sad fate. Her beauty amazed the Saracen leader himself. He grabbed the girl and threw her over his shoulder, like a wolf half-strangled a lamb.
Soon the Saracens with the loot moved back to the shore, where their ships rocked on the waves.
Meanwhile, Matteo was lying under a huge fig tree that grew near the road. Blood streamed from his wounds, the light dimmed in his eyes.
And then the Saracens passed by him with rich booty and beautiful captives. Among the captives, Matteo saw his bride with horror.
The young man jumped up and pulled the sharp blade halfway out of its sheath, but his strength left him and he fell.
And the Saracens passed without even looking at the unfortunate man.
Soon dusk fell over the deserted Vigianello. Night has come. And on the field, where during the day swords rang, crossing and striking sparks, the ruler of the Kingdom of the Dead appeared. Black crows circled above his head, cawing. The Lord of the Kingdom of the Dead slowly moved from one fallen warrior to another and lightly touched them with his staff. And those whom he touched became his subjects. He approached Matteo, but, looking into the young man’s face, he said:
“This one is not yet under my control.” He will soon recover from his wounds and is destined to live for many, many years.
“What do I need life for,” Matteo groaned, “when my hometown is plundered, and the one that is dearer than life is taken into shameful captivity!”
“Would you like to say, mortal, that love is dearer to you than sunshine and warm bread?”
“Without Mariucci, the light will not be pleasant to me and I will not need bread,” replied Matteo. – And how will I look into the eyes of my fellow citizens? After all, I failed to avenge them. .
- And if I help you, will you agree to die before the appointed time?
– What are you asking about! Of course yes.
- So remember, exactly in a year. you will die! – said the ruler of the dead and passed his hand over Matteo’s prostrate body.
Immediately the young man’s wounds closed, he jumped to his feet and rushed in the direction where the Saracens had carried Mariuccia. The Lord of the Dead stopped him.
-Where are you heading, foolish one! You cannot defeat the Saracens alone.
He struck the gnarled trunk of the fig tree with his staff. The tree shook from roots to top, and fruits and leaves fell from the branches. The fruits hit the ground with a dull thud, and a warrior dressed in armor grew in that place. The leaves became chased shields, the cuttings became sharp spears. A detachment of a thousand warriors lined up in front of Matteo. And the old fig tree fell heavily, crushing and breaking its already dead branches.
Matteo waved his hand, and the army moved after him.
The Saracens, intoxicated by victory, camped on the shore in sight of their ships. At this pre-dawn hour, they slept soundly by the campfires, posting only lookouts.
Seeing the army coming towards them, the watchmen raised the alarm. The battle flared up. It was hot, but short-lived. Only a handful of enemies managed to reach the ships, the rest died immediately on the shore.
Matteo rushed to the bound captives. With a sharp knife he cut the ropes entangling them. Here comes Mariuccia! The young man warmly hugged his beloved and turned to thank his comrades. But the warriors disappeared, as if they had melted into thin air. . .
Sorrow and joy mixed in the city of Vigianello. They rejoiced because the enemy was defeated, because the girls returned to their homes. Tears flowed because in many families the place of the husband or brother or son was empty at the table during meals.
But life went on as usual. The grief was forgotten, and the sadness on the faces of the residents of Vigianello was increasingly replaced by a smile.
And now the wedding of Mariucci and Matteo is being prepared again. The brave young man was called the son of Vigianello because he saved the city. And if a young man has a father like no other - the whole city, then the wedding should be celebrated in such a way that today’s children, when they become old, tell their grandchildren about it.
The day for the wedding was also chosen by the whole city and set on the anniversary of the victory over the Saracens.
Matteo was so happy that he didn’t even remember the word he had given to the ruler of the dead. Everything that happened that night seemed like a distant dream to him.
And then the appointed day came.
From the very morning the streets were filled with people. The townspeople dressed up in their best dresses, only here and there among the festive decorations were dark mourning clothes. The bells announced that the wedding ceremony had begun.
Matteo put the ring on the bride's finger and extended his hand for her to put the ring on him. Suddenly a terrible whirlwind came, a black tornado swept over Vigianello, picked up Matteo and carried him away.
None of those standing around saw what Mariuccia saw: it was not the tornado, but the ruler of the Kingdom of the Dead himself who kidnapped Matteo.
- Oh, Matteo, how could you leave me neither as a wife nor as a bride! – the girl exclaimed. - After all, the wedding ceremony is not over. But I won't give you up to anyone. Even in the Kingdom of the Dead I will find you.
The girls of Corsica are just as brave and determined as the men. Mariuccia went to look for her Matteo.
The last houses of Vigianello have ended. Mariuccia stopped. Where should we go? In which direction lies the Kingdom of the Dead?
Then a crow jumped up to Mariuccia, jumping sideways.
- Red ring. Give me a ring, girl.
“I can’t,” said Mariuccia. “My fiancé, Matteo, put this ring on my finger.”
But the crow did not lag behind.
- Then give me another ring, because you have two.
“Ah, sister, I must put the second ring on the finger of my fiance Matteo in the Kingdom of the Dead.” I'd rather give you an earring.
Mariuccia took an earring from her dark ear and handed it to the crow.
The crow grabbed the earring with its clawed paw and flew away. As she flew, she turned around and shouted:
– The kingdom of the dead is in the direction where the sun sets. Go straight for the sunset, girl. Don't turn anywhere.
Mariuccia turned her back to the east, facing the west and walked.
The first days there were villages on her way. Then the wild places began. Mariuccia walked along the empty plain scorched by the sun. Sharp stones cut her legs, the hot sand burned them with fire.
Day gives way to night, night to day, day to night again. And the girl keeps going and going.
Mountains are visible ahead. The sun sets for them, the moon rises for them.
Soon or not soon, Mariuccia approached the first mountain, overgrown with a cheerful forest. From tree to tree - she didn’t even notice how she found herself at the top. Here, in a small basin, lay a lake, round and shiny, like a mirror.
Mariuccia leaned over the water to wash herself, and immediately stepped back. A wrinkled old woman with gray hair looked at her from the water.
- Yes, this is my reflection! – Mariuccia screamed. – Have it really been not days, but years since I left my home? Or maybe grief aged me before my time. How will I appear to Matteo like this?
The girl sat down on a coastal stone and began to cry.
She didn’t know, and how could she know, that this lake was magical. It reflected everything in reverse. If the old woman looks at it, she will see herself young and beautiful. The girl will look and be frightened, just as Mariuccia was frightened. As if it was really time for her to babysit her grandchildren, and not dance on the outskirts of the village with the guys.
Mariuccia cried, then decided:
“Even if Matteo stops loving me, I will still find him in the Kingdom of the Dead.”
She wiped away her tears and began to go down the mountain.
In the valley at the roots of the tree there was a spring. Mariuccia couldn’t resist, looked at him and laughed loudly.
- No, Matteo will not turn his back on me. I'm still pretty and young!
Joy gave Mariuccia strength, and she started forward again.
And she needed a lot of strength, because a second mountain grew in front of her, higher than the first. The mountain was rocky and steep. However, it is not for nothing that Mariuccia was born in Corsica. Where a mountain goat goes, a Corsican girl will go. The top is already close, two or three more ledges, and Mariuccia will overcome the mountain. Suddenly thunder was heard and a wall of flames rose from under the ground. In vain Mariuccia rushed about in search of a passage. She couldn't find him anywhere.
Mariuccia was a brave girl, but still a girl. So she cried bitterly again. One of her tears fell into the fire. The fire hissed, pressed to the ground and went out.
Mariuccia reached the top and saw that behind this second mountain a third mountain was rising. She stands like a sullen giant, and her head is hidden in the clouds. No, no one can climb such a steep slope. It would have been possible to fly, but Mariucci’s wings did not grow behind his shoulders.
Then Mariuccia heard a plaintive cry. I looked - it was a white dove struggling in the grass, its paw got entangled in a long blade of grass, and it couldn’t get untangled. And the dove circles above the dove, then falls to the ground, then flies up again and screams so pitifully as if it were crying.
“Oh, poor thing,” Mariuccia said to the dove, “you and I have the same grief.” You want to rescue your pigeon, and I want to rescue my Matteo. I will help you, but apparently no one will help me.
The girl bent down and carefully tore a blade of grass. The dove took off, made a large circle next to the dove and returned to Mariuccia.
- How can I help you, girl? he asked.
“You can’t help me,” Mariuccia answered sadly. - I need to go beyond that high mountain.
The dove flew up and disappeared. Not even a minute had passed before the air began to flutter with the flapping of fast wings. A thousand doves flew in. They grabbed Mariuccia by the belt with their red paws and carried her over the mountain. There they lowered the girl to the ground at the entrance to the gorge.
- Have a nice trip! Have a nice trip! - they shouted, flying away.
Mariuccia entered a narrow passage between the rocks.
A girl is walking along a narrow path. Stone cliffs stood on the sides, blocking out the sunlight, and it was damp and dark in the gorge. High above your head, the path of the sky runs, leading Mariuccia further and further. Everything is already a gorge, going deeper and deeper down. The path of the sky is barely visible above.
Suddenly the rocks parted, and the girl came out onto the river bank. The river did not flow, did not murmur, its waters swayed heavily, like black mercury.
Mariuccia was thirsty. She wanted to get drunk, but suddenly she remembered what they had told them in Vigianello. There is a river that separates the Kingdom of the living and the Kingdom of the dead: if you drink a sip of water, you will immediately forget everything that happened. Maybe this is it, the river of oblivion. And Mariuccia did not drink.
Here a boat moored to the shore. It was driven by an old, old old man-carrier.
“Hello, grandfather,” said Mariuccia, “take me to the other side.”
The old man replied:
– The living have nothing to do in the Kingdom of the Dead. I won't take you.
“But I’m looking for my Matteo,” the girl began to ask him. “Look for yourself, this is the ring he put on my finger, and this is the ring I should put on his finger.” How can you say that I have nothing to do there!
“Well,” said the old man, “get into the boat.” Yes, remember my advice: when you find your fiancé and take him back, be silent and don’t look back.
The old man lifted the heavy oar and, slowly rowing, steered the boat across the river. The oar rose and fell, but the splash of water was not heard.
When Mariuccia got out of the boat on the other side, she saw a gate, and above the gate there was an inscription: “This threshold is not crossed twice!” But the girl was not afraid. She stepped over the threshold and found herself in the Kingdom of the Dead.
Then shadows surrounded her. They were so similar to each other that Mariuccia was confused.
“Holy Madonna,” she thought, “how will I find my Matteo, how will I recognize him?” Mariuccia wandered for a long time through the gloomy Kingdom of the Dead. There was neither day nor night, nor the singing of birds, nor the fragrant smell of herbs. Suddenly the girl’s heart trembled. A shadow stopped in front of her, the same gray as all the others, but something familiar appeared in the vague features.
Mariuccia quickly placed the ring on the shadow's finger. And here’s a miracle - it’s not a shadow standing in front of her, but Matteo, her Matteo! The girl grabbed his hand and ran towards the exit from the Kingdom of the Dead.
The bright light of day appeared ahead, the heavy waters of the river flashed. The gates were open, but the exit was guarded by a monster with seven heads. Each of the heads spewed smoke and flame.
Mariuccia pressed herself close to Matteo and they slipped past. Three or four more steps and they will return to the world of the living.
Suddenly the girl felt a scorching breath behind her. She looked back and saw that the monster had raised its middle, largest head and was reaching out to Matteo to attack from behind and swallow him.
- Be careful, Matteo, my love! – Mariuccia screamed in mortal fright.
Oh, why did she look back, why did she shout! Immediately the spell that protected them both broke. The heavy gates slammed shut, Matteo and Mariuccia became shadows. The storm picked them up and swirled them around like fallen leaves.
So they rush about, driven by the wind, not thinking about the future, not remembering the past. But they are still together, they hold each other's hands tightly. Matteo's ring shines on Mariucci's finger, and Mariucci's ring shines on Matteo's finger.
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru