Ghost Story

The creepy life and violent death of Erbanina, resident witch of a castle in Campania

Quite possibly the tower from which Erbanina fell—or was thrown—to her death. All photos mine.

Cari amici,

Buon anno a tutti! The Feast of Epiphany is fast approaching, which means Befana is getting ready to ride the skies, bringing candy and small gifts, or lumps of coal (dark-colored rock candy), to children throughout Italy. Befana is either a witch or an old hag, depending on the version of the story, but either way she shares Santa’s habit of breaking and entering via chimneys. What she is not, however, is a ghost, and who doesn’t like a ghost story, even an out-of-season one? Gather ’round, children, and we’ll start the new year with the tale of creepy, slimy Erbanina.

On the slopes of Monte Erbano in the province of Caserta in Campania, overlooking the small town of Gioia Sannitica and nestled next to the frazione of Caselle (where my maternal grandmother was born), are the ruins of a Norman castle. Back in the day, that castle, so the story goes, was home to Erbanina, a witch or, in the local dialect, a janara. A janara was a popular figure in stories told by peasant communities in the area around Benevento and what is now the province of Avellino, southwest of Gioia Sannitica.

The Gioia castle was built by the Normans early in their period of domination of southern Italy, from 999 to 1139. The fortified community housed both commoners and nobility until the 15th century, when a devastating earthquake and the plague drove the inhabitants away. Abandoned in 1500, the castle was last owned by a Spanish cavalier named Ugo Villalumo, who received it from the emperor Carlo V d’Asburgo as a reward for his valor in the battle of Pavia. It’s with our boy Ugo that our story begins.

Erbanina, a beautiful young woman living on the castle grounds, was an expert in magic and potions and spells. Quite the janara, you might say. So it probably doesn’t come as a surprise that it wasn’t only her beauty and proximity that led our hero Ugo to fall in love with and marry her. Unfortunately, he didn’t realize she had the rather disturbing habit of flying through the night skies, allegedly greased with body fat—which may have actually been corpse body fat, depending on who you listen to—which allowed her to fly to a witches’ sabbath held in a walnut grove in Benevento and to terrorize the residents of Gioia Sannitica along the way.

But of course, thanks to town gossip, Ugo eventually figured out that his darling wife was actually a janara, and then something had to be done. And by “something,” I mean murder. How exactly Erbanina met her demise depends, again, on who you ask.

Tellers of story no. 1 swear that when Ugo got hip to the body-fat thing—naturally he spied on his wife to confirm his distressing suspicions—he pulled off a switcheroo, swapping lard for body fat. Then, on a night lit by a full moon (natch), Erbanina unwittingly coated herself in lard (sadly lacking in superpower attributes) and launched herself from her bedroom window in the castle tower, at which point, instead of soaring off to join her witchy friends, she fell to her death.

Believers in story no. 2 claim that Ugo summoned help from San Michele Archangelo, who swooped in, swept up Erbanina, and tossed her from the tower. This version doesn’t explain whether the angel arrived before or after she slicked herself with her usual fat, but I suppose one can assume it’s the former—unless even a greased-up-with-magic-fat witch was no match for an archangel, who I guess would have ended up pretty greasy himself.

Either way, legend has it that Erbanina’s screams were heard in the surrounding countryside for more than a month and that her memory lives on in her mountain namesake, Monte Erbano.

View from the castle ruins on Monte Erbano into airspace that would (we assume) encompass Erbanina’s typical flight plan.

So there you have it. Even the tiniest corners of Italy have their unique spots of beauty, their legends and superstitions, their histories that enrich our understanding of the people who did, and still do, inhabit them. The Normans might have dominated history for a while, but a witch and the legend that survives her add color and character to my family’s corner of Campania. Though I haven’t heard about any spectral sightings on the castle grounds, Erbanina’s lingering screams and, century after century, her enduring presence in the storytelling traditions of this region make this legend a true ghost story. Live on, Erbanina!

I wish I could say there are other ghost stories in my family’s Italian history, but I haven’t found any yet. I’ll keep looking—and in the meantime, stay tuned for stories about the brigands of the Terre di Confine, the borderlands between the Papal States and the Kingdom of Naples, where another of my family’s ancestral towns lies.

Tante belle cose. Alla prossima—

Cheryl

P.S. I was lucky enough to visit the ruins of the Gioia Sannitica castle some years ago; now, unfortunately, access is limited due to problems with vandalism. All isn’t lost, though—you can take a look at the castle and learn some of its history in this video (in Italian), or you can watch some awesome drone footage here.

P.S. My book! Which you can buy here or on the usual sites, or, better yet, order it from your local bookstore. Another fab option is to ask your library to stock it. If you read it and like it, please tell your friends and/or leave a few lines of praise on any bookish site. You’d be surprised how much a rating or review helps authors. Baci!