Near the village of Chiapazza, where its only street ends, a hill rises. There is an ancient castle on the hill. Now all that remains of it are ruins and only owls and bats nest in its dark towers.
Residents of the village tell amazing stories about this castle. About a hundred years ago, every day at exactly twelve o'clock the rusty bolt was pushed back. The heavy doors opened with a creak, and an old man came out onto the threshold. His long white beard reached below his waist. He was wearing a jacket with puffy sleeves, short pants, a red cap on his head, and shoes with buckles on his feet. The old man, groaning, sat down on the steps of the stairs to warm his bones in the sun. And the bones were very, very old - no one knew how old he was, and he himself could not count them.
At this hour, all the children of the village of Chiapazza came running to the castle. They climbed onto the old man's lap, pulled his beard, and pulled the red cap off his head. But the old man was not angry with the children. And sometimes, when the sun was especially hot and the old man’s bones stopped aching, he winked slyly at the children, and they began to dance and ask:
- Show me, grandpa!
- Let us go, grandfather!
- Let me play, grandpa!
The old man got up and entered the dark doors, the guys tiptoed behind him. They passed through echoing halls, vaulted corridors, and then went down a long narrow staircase. The old man had difficulty pushing back the iron door. The guys crossed the threshold, and the door slammed behind them. And each time their mouths and eyes opened wide with admiration. After all, the treasures of Chiapazza were kept in the dungeon. There were piles of gold and silver ancient coins, and chests with open lids were filled to the brim with precious stones. There was such a glow coming from the stones that the dark dungeon seemed as bright as day.
The old man allowed the children to play with the treasures. The boys jokingly staged a battle. Some brandished swords with golden hilts, others covered themselves with huge shields with intricate patterns. The girls decorated themselves with gems and wore expensive clothes. Their dresses were old, but the girls immediately seemed to turn into little princesses.
And the old man, looking at all this, chuckled quietly. Then he picked up a silver bell and rang it. The princesses again became little ragged girls, the brave warriors became simple boys. Everyone quickly put the jewelry back in place and left the dungeon. And none of the children ever took with them a single coin or a single pebble. Only once did a seven-year-old boy, who was in the dungeon for the first time, put a coin with a square hole in his pocket to make a sinker for a fishing rod out of it. And amazingly, the iron door never wanted to open. Then the old man said:
- Whoever took it, let him give it back.
The boy, blushing, threw the coin into the pile of coins. The door immediately opened.
But one dark night, three thieves finally made their way into the castle. These thieves suffered from a terrible disease - they were burned by the thirst for wealth. They came from afar, because in the region where they were from there was nothing to steal. Everything that could be stolen, they have already stolen,
These thieves were clever, they could open any door without noise. They wrapped their shoes in felt and covered their faces with masks. But still the old man woke up. He came out to meet them and asked:
-What do you need here, good people?
The thieves, seeing that they were dealing with a decrepit, unarmed old man, became bolder.
– They say that treasures are kept in this castle! - they shouted.
“It’s true,” answered the old man. - Why do you need treasures?
“I will build myself a palace with a hundred rooms, have a hundred servants and live in it alone,” answered the first thief.
The second thief said:
“And I’ll buy a big ship and travel around all the countries.” And in each I will eat only what the king himself, who rules this country, eats.
“Well, I’m not so stupid,” said the third thief. “I will not waste my share of wealth.” I will hide the gold and be happy that I own it.
“Allow me to say a word,” the old man spoke. - It is in vain that you divide what you will never receive. Leave before I get angry.
“Why are we wasting our time listening to the ravings of this old fool!” - shouted the first thief. - What will he do to us!
– Now you’ll find out what!
And the thief felt with horror what powerful hands this decrepit-looking old man had. The old man grabbed all three by the collar and dragged them out the door. It was as if an unknown force grabbed the first thief and threw him upward. It’s good that he managed to grab onto a cloud that was passing by. He returned to earth only three days later, when a cloud began to rain.
The old man threw the second thief even higher - onto the zipper. So he flew down, sitting astride this lightning, when a week later a thunderstorm broke out.
And the old man threw the third thief so high that he still has not returned to the ground.
Where did the treasures in Chiapazza Castle come from? Who was the old man who guarded these treasures, and where did they go? And the villagers can talk about this if you really ask them.
They say that Chiapazza Castle once belonged to a noble family of sovereign lords. The last owner of the castle lived there rarely and not for long. He did not throw cheerful, noisy feasts, he was not seduced by the smiles of beauties, and he was not interested in conversations with learned elders. More than anything else, he loved to ride a good horse with a spear at the ready towards the enemy and cross his sword with the enemy’s sword in a hot battle. In a word, the lord of the castle was a warrior.
One day, news reached the lord that the Saracens had landed on the coast and attacked the seaside town. The owner of the castle without delay gathered a detachment of his soldiers and hurried there. But it was already too late. The Saracens plundered the city, burned it to the ground and sailed away on their ships, taking away rich booty.
The signor, in gloomy thought, was driving along a destroyed, burning street, when he suddenly heard a plaintive cry, coming as if from underground. The signor jumped off his horse and looked around. It didn’t take long before he thought of looking into an abandoned, dry well. By the light of the torch, he saw a little boy at the bottom. How he got there, the frightened boy himself could not tell. The lord took pity on the child, put him on a horse in front of him and took him to his castle.
When the boy grew up, the lord made him his squire. And he did not have a more faithful and devoted servant.
Rinaldo - that was the name of the foundling - accompanied his master on all campaigns. He always fought side by side with the lord. Happiness is fickle in hot battles. But when two people care about each other, death flies by. More than once Rinaldo covered the signor with his body, more than once the signor used his sword to deflect the enemy’s sword raised above Rinaldo’s head.
This went on for many years. One day, the lord's warriors were chasing an enemy in the distant mountains. The enemy detachment managed to hide in the gorges. Meanwhile, night fell. The place was unfamiliar, and the signor decided to wait for dawn. Rinaldo noticed a cave at the foot of a steep cliff, dragged branches there and made a comfortable bed for his master. Rinaldo himself lay down across the entrance to the cave, placing his weapon next to him.
The signor probably couldn’t sleep that night. The squire heard his restless steps on the stone floor of the cave, and raising his head, he saw the smoky flame of a torch darting in the depths under the low arches.
In the morning the signor left the cave gloomy and worried. Instead of pursuing the enemy, he turned the detachment back.
From then on, Rinaldo's life took a different course. That night the lord discovered untold riches in the cave. For seven years in a row, he transported the treasure on a white lame mule from a cave in the distant mountains to the dungeon of his ancestral castle. And since the lord did not have a servant more faithful and devoted to Rinaldo, he entrusted him with guarding the treasures.
Rinaldo noticed with sadness that the disposition of his master, hitherto generous and noble, had changed dramatically. He became stingy and distrustful, no longer in a hurry to help the offended, and forgot about military glory. When the lord was in the castle, he spent whole days alone, locked in the dungeon where the treasures lay.
In the eighth year, the lord again went to the mountains on his white lame mule. As he was leaving, he said to Rinaldo:
- Remember: no matter what happens to me, you must take care of the treasure. I conjure you with the fire that burned your hometown and spared you, I conjure you with the sword with which I warded off the fatal blow from your head three times - take care of the treasure! If even a small particle of it sees the light of day, you will die!
The signor left and did not return. Rinaldo waited for him for a long time, then stopped waiting. He lost track of the days, months and years. Below the hill, in the village of Chiapazze, old people died, young people got married, children were born. From a distance, Rinaldo saw either a funeral, or a christening, or a wedding train. Only for him nothing changed. He kept the treasure.
One night he heard the whistle of a storm and the howl of the wind. Trees cracked and broke. In all his long, long life, Rinaldo had never seen such a storm. The rain fell not in drops, not in streams, but in streams. Thoughts about what was happening down there in Chiapazza kept the decrepit squire awake.
As soon as the gloomy dawn rose above the ground, the old man stood up and looked out of the loophole. What he saw was worse than a battlefield after a long battle. Where Chiapazza stood, muddy waters raged. They twisted fragments of logs and the remains of household utensils. Here and there the ruins of houses were still visible above the water. And on the hill, near the walls of the castle, the unfortunate, chilled inhabitants of the village crowded.
The old man opened the castle doors wide. In the fireplaces, in which no fire had been lit for so many years, logs began to crackle. Having warmed up, the children began to run around the echoing halls with cheerful cries, but the faces of their fathers and mothers remained gloomy. One stormy night took away what had been acquired by generations of hard work. They lost their shelter, their crops perished, their livestock drowned. The old squire silently looked at the crying women. Then he spoke:
“There is a spell on Chiapazza’s treasure. I guarded this treasure for many, many years, because my lord told me so. It did not bring happiness to anyone - neither my master, nor myself, nor those who owned it before. But maybe the time has come when gold and precious stones will help people who deserve it. I will not open the doors of the dungeon to you, this would mean opening the doors to envy, robbery and murder. I will give you as much as you need to rebuild Chiapazza. When leaving, the signor said: if even a small particle of the treasure sees the light of day, I will die. So what! After all, my old life has been of no use to me for a long time. The old man went down into the dungeon and brought out a bag of gold. The women wiped away their tears, the men straightened their shoulders. The old squire smiled at them and said:
– Still, it was not for nothing that I kept the treasure.
And these were his last words. At that very moment he fell onto the stone slabs of the hall and died.
The old squire gave people only a small part of the treasure. What happened to all the treasure? Nobody really knows. They say it turned into shards and coals. The castle became dilapidated and almost collapsed. No one visits it. Only occasionally will some brave peasant hide hay there so that the winter rains do not wet it.
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru