Iron, Lead, and Steel
An Extremaduran folk-tale.
Introduction
I’m delighted to share my translation of Hierro, Plomo, y Acero (Iron, Lead, and Steel), a Extremaduran folktale originally published in the Biblioteca de las Tradiciones Populares Españolas, appearing here for the first time in English. This serialized collection, released between 1883 and 1886, catalogued Spain's diverse oral traditions, encompassing folktales, ballads, proverbs, and poetry. This translation holds particular significance for me, as I am a descendant of an Extremaduran, my great-grandfather, who emigrated from Llera, Extremadura, to Cuba in the early 1900s.
The Biblioteca was founded and directed by Antonio Machado Álvarez, known by his pseudonym Demófilo. A writer, anthropologist, and folklorist, Machado Álvarez worked to preserve Spain's rich cultural heritage. In 1881, he established the Folk-Lore Andaluz society, aiming to systematically collect and study popular traditions. This endeavor laid the groundwork for the Biblioteca, which ultimately produced eleven volumes compiling material from various Spanish regions.
Iron, Lead & Steel was collected by Sergio Hernández de Soto, a notable figure in the preservation of Extremaduran folklore. Born in 1845, Hernández de Soto co-founded the Folk-Lore Andaluz society and acted as an honorary member of the Folk-Lore Extremeño society. His work culminated in the publication of Cuentos Populares de Extremadura in 1886, featured in Volume 10 of the Biblioteca.
Iron, Lead, and Steel
Pues señor1, in a village of Extremadura there lived two siblings, one boy (José) and one girl (Maria). A giant became enamored of Maria, but José didn’t approve. Whenever José hunted with his three loyal dogs (named Iron, Lead, and Steel), the giant visited Maria.
One day, the giant, angered by José’s opposition, said to Maria:
“Listen, we must get rid of your brother. Tomorrow, go with him into the garden and delouse him beneath the orange tree. Then ask him to retrieve an orange—but one at a great height, so that he must climb. When he has climbed sufficiently high, I’ll emerge and shake the tree so that he falls and dies.”
The next day, the siblings visited the garden and, sitting beneath an orange tree, Maria said:
“Come here, brother.... I’ll delouse you.”
José sat before her. After a few minutes, Maria asked him to pick out an orange to quench her hunger. He believed the tree to be too tall and risky to climb, but she insisted. Because he loved her dearly, he climbed the tree.
When he reached a great height, the giant emerged and shook the tree.
“Iron, Lead, Steel—get him!”
The dogs appeared, rushing and biting the giant. José descended the tree and called off the dogs.
As the giant fled, José scolded Maria, who said she hadn't seen the giant in time.
In the following days, José’s disapproval of the giant grew, but the giant and Maria still contrived to kill him. One day, the giant, visiting Maria, said:
“Take this box. When your brother returns for dinner, place the powders on the food.”
Maria took the box, and when José returned from the hunt, she poisoned his dinner with the powder and set the table. She didn’t sit, and José asked her to accompany him as he ate.
“I’ve already eaten,” Maria replied. “But you should eat, please.”
José, before eating, placed into a dish some of the food for his dogs. But his dogs didn’t eat and began to bark. This barking grew his suspicion, so he called over the cat, none the wiser, who a short time after eating dropped dead.
José rose and said:
“I’ll abandon our home and go out into the world. You’ve tried twice to kill me, but my dogs have saved me each time. Who knows if you’ll find success the third time!”
Maria pleaded for her innocence, trying to convince him otherwise, but José didn’t listen and abandoned his home.
José entered the countryside and, wandering, arrived at a city with a depressed and rowdy populace. He asked one citizen for the cause of this general distress, who told him that sadness reigned because each day for some time a serpent with seven heads visited and devoured a young virgin. Now, no girls remained, but for the daughter of the king. All were alarmed. José asked where the princess could be found and travelled to her with his dogs.
He found the princess gripped by sadness, took pity, and told her to forget her grief, that he would save her—but she replied that salvation was impossible. She recognized him as a foreigner unfamiliar with the serpent, a ferocious creature nobody dared to face. But José expressed determination to either save her or die.
A little after their meeting, they heard a great ruckus. The princess trembled, and there appeared a serpent with seven fearful heads. When the serpent neared, José commanded:
“Get at her, Iron!”
Iron advanced upon the serpent but stood at a disadvantage due to its size. Understanding this, José commanded:
“Get at her, Lead!”
The second dog charged at the serpent, who hissed, bellowed, and felt harassed, now facing two hounds—but the serpent drew from some inner strength and nearly reached victory when José commanded:
“Get at her, Steel!”
Steel charged the tired serpent, who couldn’t defend himself from the pack and died. The princess begged José to enter the palace. José declined, desiring to continue his wandering, but assured her he’d one day return. He then cut off the seven serpent tongues, which he wrapped in a handkerchief, and then departed with his dogs.
Soon after, a Moor named La-Sharaf, who had witnessed the scene, arrived and cut off the seven heads of the serpent, guarded them, and took the princess, menacing her with death if she told the king somebody other than he had saved her. The princess from fear dared not to contradict La-Sharaf, and the king arranged a marriage between them.
The princess, pleading, postponed the wedding by one year, after which time José, having tired of wandering, returned to the city, now decked out and festive. He asked one citizen the cause of the festiveness, who replied that the princess was to marry a Moor.
“And why would she marry a Moor?” José asked.
“Because,” said the citizen, “one year ago a serpent with seven heads appeared in our city, eating all our girls, until only the princess remained. The king offered a reward for the death of the serpent—his daughter’s hand. Since a Moor killed the serpent, and the king’s word is irreversible, there is no remedy but to marry her off…. Although, it’s a shame such a pretty damsel would marry such an ugly man.”
“When will they marry?”
“Tonight. A feast will be held in the palace.”
José arrived at an inn. When the hour of the feast arrived, he said:
“Iron, go to the palace, give the Moor a good slap in the face, and retrieve his dinner plate.”
Iron left, arrived at the feast, slapped the Moor in the face, and, taking his plate, absconded. The palace guards chased him, but Iron vanished and lost their tail. Once Iron returned, José commanded Lead to perform the same. When Lead returned, José said to Steel:
“Go, now, Steel, and give the Moor a good slap, take his plate, and return at once—but not so quickly, so that the guards can follow you to this inn.”
So, Steel went to the feast, slapped the Moor heavily and, grabbing his plate, bolted away, though keeping himself in sight of the pursuing guards. As soon as Steel returned, the guards entered the inn and said:
“Who is the owner of this dog?”
“I am,” replied José.
“Then, on behalf of His Royal Majesty, you are to come to the palace at once.”
“Well, tell His Royal Majesty that he is as far from me as I am from him and, since I am not in need of him, that he should come to me.”
The guards left dumbfounded and recounted what had transpired to the king, who sent them back.
“On behalf of His Royal Majesty,” one guard said, “please do him the favor of coming to the palace.”
“Now, I’ll go,” José said, “since you asked politely.” And he and his dogs followed the guards to the palace.
The princess, as soon as José entered, recognized him, but she didn’t dare speak for fear of La-Sharaf. The Moor, too, recognized him, but didn’t worry, having kept the serpent’s heads, thinking to pass José off as an imposter if he dared claimed to have killed the serpent.
When the king noticed José arrive, he called him over and said:
“Are you the owner of these three dogs?”
“Yes, sir,” José said. “What they have done, I commanded them to do.”
“Why have you commanded them so?”
“Because that Moor now occupies a position not belonging to him; he has claimed to have killed the serpent, but that is false. I am the one who killed it.”
La-Sharaf rose and said:
“What that man says is false! To prove it, let His Royal Majesty order the seven heads of the serpent brought forth.”
The king ordered his attendants to produce the seven heads.
“These heads,” he said to José, “were cut off by La-Sharaf, who is to marry my daughter. This proves that he killed the serpent. How do you respond?”
José said:
“Let His Royal Majesty see if those heads have tongues.”
The king inspected the heads and then said:
“Indeed, they have no tongues.”
Then José produced his handkerchief and, displaying the seven tongues, said:
“Here are the tongues, which I cut out myself. Now let His Royal Majesty judge who killed the serpent—the one who cut the tongues, or the one who afterward cut off the heads.”
Observing the truth to have come to light and finding courage to speak, the princess approached her father and verified the truth of José’s account: that he, with the aid of his dogs, had killed the serpent, and that afterward, La-Sharaf had arrived and removed the heads, threatening to kill her if she contradicted him.
The king, realizing La-Sharaf a fraud, ordered his arrest and asked José what should be done with him.
“Tie him to the tail of a wild horse and let it run free,” José said.
And so it was, and José married the princess.
Now, La-Sharaf had a sister who worked at the palace, and to revenge her brother she bought three steel spikes from a witch and placed them in the prince’s bed. When José went to lie down, the spikes pierced him, and his chamber page found him dead when he went to wake him.
Everyone mourned deeply the death of the prince, especially the king and the inconsolable princess. The three dogs did nothing but howl and refused to leave their master’s side. The body was placed in a coffin for the wake, with the dogs resting at its foot. At midnight, Iron rose, took a candle in his mouth, approached the prince, and removed one of the cursed spikes with his teeth, letting it fall into the coffin. The prince shuddered. Iron returned to his place and then Lead rose and removed the second spike. Finally, Steel rose, took a candle, approached the prince, pulled out the third spike, and then curled up at the coffin’s foot.
The prince rose and asked the several witnesses, including his wife and the king, how he’d come to such a state. Word spread quickly of his resurrection, and everyone rejoiced. As they marveled at the work of the dogs, the king looked inside the coffin, observed the three spikes, and understood what had happened.
An investigation found that the sister of La-Sharaf, to avenge his death, had procured the spikes and attempted to kill the prince. She was arrested and given the same punishment as her brother.
Y se acabó mi cuento con pan y rábano tuerto2.
This phrase, appearing at the beginning of the tale, is a common convention in Spanish folklore, signaling that a story is about to begin.
This translates roughly to: And so my tale ends, with bread and a twisted radish. Many Spanish folktales end with a rhyming or humorous phrase, often nonsensical and meant to signal the story’s conclusion.
Translator’s Note
This translation of Iron, Lead & Steel aims to remain faithful to the original folktale while making certain adjustments for readability and clarity. Some aspects of the story have been modernized, particularly in phrasing, structure, and narrative flow, to make it more accessible to contemporary English readers while preserving the spirit and themes of the original.