Part 14 (1/2)
We found a ”restaurant” where we lunched off a tin of antediluvian Spanish sardines, some mouldy sweet biscuits, and black wine. (A distinction is made in these parts between black and red wine; the former is the Apulian variety, the other from Sulmona.) During this repast, we were treated to several bear-stories. For there are bears at Pesca.s.seroli, and nowhere else in Italy; even as there are chamois nearby, between Opi and Villetta Barrea, among the crags of the Camosciara, which perpetuates their name. One of those present a.s.sured us that the bear is a good beast; he will eat a man, of course, but if he meets a little boy, he contents himself with throwing stones at him--just to teach him good manners. Certain old bears are as big as a donkey. They have been seen driving into their cave a flock of twenty-five sheep, like any shepherd. It is no rare thing to encounter in the woods a bear with a goat slung over his shoulder; he must breakfast, like anybody else. One of these gentlemen told us that the bears, not long ago, were a source of considerable profit to the peasantry round about. It was in this wise. Their numbers had been reduced, it seems, to a single pair and the species was threatened with extinction, when, somehow or other, this state of affairs became known to the King who, alarmed at the disappearance from his realm of a venerable and autochtonous quadruped, the largest European beast of prey, conceived the happy idea of converting the whole region into a Royal Preserve. On pain of death, no bear was to be molested or even laughed at; any damage they might do would be compensated out of the Royal Purse.
For a week or so after this enactment, nothing was heard of the bears.
Then, one morning, the conscientious Minister of the Royal Household presented himself at the palace, with a large sheaf of doc.u.ments under his arm.
”What have we here?” inquired the King.
”Attestations relating to the bears of Pesca.s.seroli, Your Majesty. They seem to be thriving.”
”Ah! That is nice of them. They are multiplying once more, thanks to Our Royal protection. We thought they would.”
”Multiplying indeed, Sire. Here are testimonials, sworn before the local syndic, showing that they have devoured 18 head of cattle and 43 sheep.”
”In that short time? Is it possible? Well, well! The damage must be paid. And yet We never knew the bears could propagate so fast. Maybe our Italian variety is peculiarly vigorous in such matters.”
”Seems so, Your Majesty. Very prolific.”
A week or so pa.s.sed and, once more, His Excellency was announced. The King observed:
”You are not looking quite yourself this morning, my good Minister.
Would it be indiscreet to inquire the cause? No family or parliamentary worries, We trust?”
”Your Majesty is very kind! No. It is the bears of Pesca.s.seroli. They have eaten 75 head of cattle, 93 sheep, and 114 goats. Ah--and 18 horses. Here are the claims for damages, notarially attested.”
”We must pay. But if only somebody could teach the dear creatures to breed a little more reasonably!”
”I cannot but think, Sire, that the peasants are abusing Your Majesty's----”
”May We never live to hear anything against Our faithful and well-beloved Abruzzi folk!”
Nearly a month elapsed before the Minister again presented himself. This time he looked really haggard and careworn, and was bowed down under an enormous bundle of papers. The King glanced up from that writing-desk where, like all other sovereigns, he had been working steadily since 4.30 a.m., and at once remarked, with that sympathetic intuition for which he is famous among crowned heads:
”We think We know. The bears.”
Your Majesty is never wrong. They have devoured 126 cows and calves and bullocks, 418 sheep and goats, 62 mules, 37 horses, and 96 donkeys. Also 55 shepherd dogs and 827 chickens. Here are the claims.”
”Dear, dear, dear. This will never do. If it is a question of going to ruin, We prefer that it should be the bears rather than Ourselves. We must withdraw Our Royal protection, after settling up these last items.
What say you, my good Minister?”
”Your Majesty is always right. A private individual may indulge in the pastime of breeding bears to the verge of personal bankruptcy. Ruling sovereigns will be guided by juster and more complex considerations.”
And from that moment, added our gentlemanly informant, there began a wonderful shrinkage in the numbers of the bears. Within a day or two, they were again reduced to a single couple.
Gladly would I have listened to more of these tales but, having by far the worst of the day's walk still before us, we left the stricken regions about midday and soon began an interminable ascent, all through woods, to the shrine of Madonna di Tranquillo. Hereabouts is the watershed, whence you may see, far below, the tower of Campoli Apennino.
That village was pa.s.sed in due course, and Sora lay before us, after a thirteen hours' march....
That same night in Sora--it may have been 2 a.m.--some demon drew nigh to my bedside and whispered in my ear: ”What are you doing here, at Sora? Why not revisit Alatri? (I had been there already in June.) Just another little promenade! Up, sluggard, while the night-air is cool!”
I obeyed the summons and turned to rouse my slumbering companion, to whom I announced my inspiration. His remarks, on that occasion, were well worth listening to.
Next evening found us at Alatri.