Folk Tale - The Sweetest Bread

The tale that follows is a Cephalonian variant of an old folk narrative. It belongs to the broad category of narrative or secular folktales, which recount human adventures without the use of supernatural elements. More specifically, this particular tale is classified as a didactic folktale which, as D. Loukatos observes, “always contains an intention to teach.”

 Once upon a time there was a rich king, very rich, who had everything his heart desired. He possessed everything and was considered happy, until one day he was struck by a strange loss of appetite and had no desire to put anything in his mouth. Gradually he grew thinner, and he began to become irritable and odd. Many doctors came to see him, but their remedies could do nothing for him. The king’s loss of appetite persisted, and day by day he wasted away. Nothing tempted him to eat—not even “bird’s milk,” as the saying goes.

Now one day, by chance, a poor white-haired old man happened to be passing by the palace. He was poor, but wise, and knowledgeable about remedies. They told him about the king, and he went up to see him.
 “Are you perhaps overtired, my king?” he asked him.
 “What are you saying, my doctor?” replied the king. “All day long I lie on my throne; I don’t even move my little finger.”
 “Do you perhaps have worries and troubles about your people?”
 “Not at all. On the contrary. I live carefree, and I couldn’t care less about anyone!”
 “Have you ever desired something and been unable to have it?”
 “Not even that! I am a king, and whatever I ask for, I see before me!”

The old man thought for a while, then turned and said to the king: “Listen, my king. As I see it, you have nothing serious. What is at fault and makes you lose your appetite is the bread they give you at the palace. You must order them to bring you the sweetest bread in the world to eat. If you manage to have that, then you will be cured!”

“Not at all. On the contrary. I live carefree, and I couldn’t care less about anyone!”
 “Have you ever desired something and been unable to have it?”
 “Not even that! I am a king, and whatever I ask for, I see before me!”

The old man thought for a while, then turned and said to the king: “Listen, my king. As I see it, you have nothing serious. What is at fault and makes you lose your appetite is the bread they give you at the palace. You must order them to bring you the sweetest bread in the world to eat. If you manage to have that, then you will be cured!”

That very day the king ordered the palace bakers to knead and bake for him “the sweetest bread in the world.” Bakers throughout the entire kingdom threw themselves eagerly into the task, each trying to make the sweetest bread for the king. They kneaded all kinds of bread with sugar and cream and brought them to the palace for him to taste. But none of those breads whetted the king’s appetite. He did not even want to eat them. One smelled bad to him, another stank. Until one day, beside himself with rage, the king sent his men to find the old man and bring him back before him. And so they did.

“I will hang you for deceiving me!” the king shouted as soon as he saw him.
 “Why, my king?” asked the old man.
 “Because the sweet bread you told them to make for me did nothing for me!”
 “Oh?” said the old man. “It seems that the bread they kneaded for you was not sweet enough!”

The king was ready to fly into a rage again, but he saw that the old man was deep in thought, and he waited.

 “Listen, my king,” the old man said after a while. “If you truly wish to taste the bread that will cure you, you must come with me for just three days and do whatever I tell you. If you do not get well, you are free to take my head!”

And so the king, my child, willingly or not, agreed to go with the strange old man to the place he indicated. He too put on poor clothes, slipped into worn-out shoes, took a staff in his hand, and secretly left the palace. They went far away, to the plain where the old man lived, in a hut, in the middle of a sown field.

At dawn, the old man gave the king a sickle and said to him, “Come, let us reap!” The king began reaping under the blazing sun all day long. He made some forty sheaves of wheat. When evening came, they collapsed from exhaustion and went to sleep. No food all day, nothing at all. You see, the old man also remained fasting.

The next day, early in the morning, the old man woke the king and said, “Get up now, let us take all these sheaves to the threshing floor and thresh them!” 

 The king carried more than half of them on his back, and then all day long—thud, thud—he beat them with the flail, until they piled up the wheat, winnowed it, and put it in the sack. And again they spent the whole day like that, both of them fasting, drinking only a little water from the cistern near the hut. That evening they fell down tired once more and fell aslee

On the third day, at daybreak, the old man woke the king. “Wake up,” he said, “now we must take our wheat to the mill to grind it. You carry it on your back, because I cannot, and we’ll go up to the top of the mountain where the mill is.” What could the king do, since that was the agreement? He loaded the sack onto his back and, weary and wretched, carried it to the top. Now he had begun to feel hungry, but he still said nothing.

They ground their wheat, and to make a long story short, they returned toward noon to the hut, the king again carrying the flour. “Now come, let us knead,” said the old man. He set aside about ten pounds of flour, poured it into the trough, and made the king knead it. Then he sent him to the thicket to cut firewood, and late in the evening they lit and heated the oven to bake three or four loaves. The king was now starving and waited eagerly for the bread to bake so that he could eat. 

But he desired it even more when the smell began to come out of the oven.

“I am very hungry,” he said to the old man.
 “Wait, and you will eat!” he replied.
 

Soon the loaves came out, steaming and golden-brown. Like a hungry wolf, the king seized a loaf, broke it with his hands, and began to eat. But with the very first bite he swallowed, his face turned red with joy and he cried out, “Indeed! This is the sweetest bread in the world! And yet I did not put even a spoonful of sugar into its dough!”

Then the old man smiled and said to him, “My king, you must know that the sugar of your bread was the sweat you poured out to make it. 

Now you are free to return to your palace. Just be sure to work from now on, and you will see that your appetite will never leave you.”

The king followed the old man’s advice, and when he returned to his palace, he worked every day for his people, went down to his garden for other tasks as well, and from then on he was cured of his loss of appetite and ate well—may we too eat like that someday!