SEVENTH STORY
Teodoro falls in love with Violante, the daughter of his master, Messer Amerigo. He gets her with child, and is sentenced to die on the gallows. But whilst he is being whipped along the road to his execution, he is recognized by his father and set at liberty, after which he and Violante become husband and wife.
All the ladies were on tenterhooks, anxiously wondering whether the two lovers would be burnt, and on learning that they had escaped, they all rejoiced and offered thanks to God. Then, having heard the end of the story, the queen entrusted the telling of the next to Lauretta, who cheerfully began as follows:
Fairest ladies, there once lived in the island of Sicily, during the reign of good King William,1 a nobleman called Messer Amerigo Abate of Trapani,2 who was blessed with many possessions, including a large number of children. He was therefore in need of servants, and when certain galleys arrived from the Levant belonging to Genoese pirates,3 who had captured a great many children along the Armenian coast, he purchased a number of them, believing them to be Turkish. For the most part they appeared to be of rustic, shepherd stock, but there was one, Teodoro by name, who seemed gently bred and better looking than any of the others.
Though he was treated as a servant, Teodoro was brought up in the house along with Messer Amerigo’s children, and as he grew older, being prompted by his innate good breeding rather than by the accident of his menial status, he’ acquired so much poise and so agreeable a manner that Messer Amerigo granted him his freedom. Supposing him to be a Turk,4 Messer Amerigo had him baptized and re-named Pietro, and placed him in charge of his business affairs, taking him deeply into his confidence.
Side-by-side with Messer Amerigo’s other children, there grew up a daughter of his called Violante,5 a dainty young beauty who, as her father was not in a hurry to marry her off, chanced to fall in love with Pietro. But whilst she loved him, and held his conduct and achievements in high esteem, she was too shy to tell him so directly. Love spared her this trouble, however, for Pietro, having cast many a furtive glance in her direction, fell so violently in love with her that he felt unhappy whenever she was out of his sight. Since he could not help feeling that what he was doing was wrong, he was greatly afraid lest anyone should discover his secret; but the girl, who was by no means averse to his company, divined his feelings towards her, and, in order to bolster his confidence, she let it appear that she was delighted, as indeed she was. And on this footing their relationship rested for some considerable time, neither of them venturing to say anything to the other, much as they mutually desired to do so. Consumed by the flames of love, they longed for one another with equal ardour till Fortune, as though deciding that they should be united, found a way for them to dispel the fears and apprehensions by which they were impeded.
About a mile away from Trapani itself, Messer Amerigo kept a very charming property, to which his wife, with their daughter and various other ladies and maidservants, frequently went by way of recreation. Having gone there one day when the weather was very hot, taking Pietro with them, they suddenly found that the sky had become overcast with thick dark clouds, such as we occasionally observe in the course of the summer. And so the lady, not wishing to be caught there by the storm, set off with her companions along the road leading back to Trapani, making all the haste they could. But Pietro and Violante, being young and fit, soon found themselves well ahead of the girl’s mother and the other ladies, perhaps because they were prompted no less by their love than by fear of the weather. And when they had drawn so far ahead of the others that they were almost out of sight, there was a series of thunderclaps,6 immediately followed by a very heavy hailstorm, from which the lady and her companions took shelter in the house of a farm-labourer.
Pietro and the girl, having nowhere more convenient to take refuge, entered an old, abandoned cottage that was almost totally in ruins; and, having both squeezed in beneath the fragment of roof that still remained intact, they were forced by the inadequacy of their shelter to huddle up close to one another. The contact of their bodies made them pluck up the courage to disclose their amorous yearnings, Pietro being the first to broach the subject by saying:
‘Would to God that this hailstorm would never come to an end, so that I could remain here for ever!’
‘That would suit me very well,’ said the girl.
Having uttered these words, they went on to hold and squeeze one another’s hands, after which they proceeded to embrace and then to exchange kisses, while the hailstorm continued.
But to cut a long story short, by the time the weather improved they had tasted Love’s ultimate delights and arranged to meet again in secret for their mutual pleasure.
The cottage was not far from the city gate, and once the storm was over they went and waited there for the lady, and returned with her to the house. Every so often, employing the maximum of secrecy and discretion, they would meet again, to their considerable enjoyment, in the same place as before. But what happened in the end was that the girl became pregnant, much to the dismay of both parties, whereupon she took various measures to frustrate the course of nature and miscarry, but all to no effect.
Pietro, in fear of his life, made up his mind to flee, and told her so. But on hearing this, the girl said:
‘If you go away, I shall kill myself without fail!’
To which Pietro, who was deeply in love with her, replied:
‘But, my lady, how can you possibly want me to remain here? Our offence will be brought to light by your pregnancy. And whereas you will be readily forgiven, I shall be the poor wretch who has to suffer the penalty for your sin and my own.’
‘My sin will be only too obvious, Pietro,’ she replied, ‘but rest assured that your own will never be discovered unless you reveal it yourself.’
Whereupon Pietro said:
‘Since you have given me this promise, I shall stay; but take good care not to break it.’
The girl did all she possibly could to conceal her condition, but one day, seeing that she could hide it no longer on account of the swelling of her body, she went to her mother in floods of tears and made a full confession, imploring her to rescue her from harm.
The lady was utterly appalled, and admonished her severely, demanding to know how it had come about. So as to protect Pietro, the girl invented a tale containing a garbled version of the facts, which the lady believed, and in order to conceal her daughter’s transgression she sent her away to a property of theirs in the country. Messer Amerigo very rarely set foot in this particular place, and her mother never thought for a moment that he would be going there, but just as the time came for the girl to be delivered, it so happened that on his way back from a hawking expedition he was passing directly beside the room where his daughter was in labour. Much to his astonishment, he heard the girl shrieking, as women are wont to do at such times, and he therefore walked straight in to inquire what was going on.
On seeing her husband arrive, the lady rose to her feet in dismay and explained what had happened to their daughter. But being less credulous than his wife, he maintained it was not possible for the girl to be ignorant of who had got her with child, and said he would ferret out the facts, come what may. Let her tell him the truth, therefore, and she would be restored to his favour; otherwise, she could expect to be put to death without mercy.
The lady did her utmost to persuade her husband to rest content with the story which she herself had accepted, but it was no use. Brandishing his sword, he rushed over in a towering rage to the bedside of his daughter, who meanwhile, as her mother was conversing with her father, had given birth to a son, and he said:
‘Either you reveal the name of this child’s father, or you shall die forthwith.’
Fearing she would be killed, the girl broke her promise to Pietro and made a clean breast of everything that had passed between them, whereupon the knight raved and stormed like a madman, and barely managed to restrain himself from putting her to death. However, after speaking h
is mind in no uncertain terms, he remounted his horse and rode off to Trapani, where he lodged a complaint with the Viceroy,7 a certain Messer Currado, about the injury Pietro had done him. Since he was unprepared for this turn of events, Pietro was promptly taken into custody, and on being put to the torture, he made a full confession.
A few days later the Viceroy sentenced him to be whipped through the town and then hanged by the neck. And in order to ensure that the two lovers and their child should all perish at the same time, Messer Amerigo, whose anger was by no means appeased by the destruction of Pietro, mixed some poison with wine in a goblet and handed it to one of his servants together with an unsheathed dagger, saying:
‘Go with this goblet and this dagger to Violante, and tell her in my name that she is to die forthwith by whichever of the two means she prefers, the poison or the steel. Tell her she is to do it at once, otherwise I shall see that she is burnt alive, as she deserves, in the presence of every man and woman in the town. This done, you are to take the child which was born to her the other day, dash its head against a wall, and cast it away to be devoured by the dogs.’
As soon as the cruel father had passed this savage sentence on his daughter and grandchild, the servant, who was more disposed to evil than to good, took his leave.
Meanwhile Pietro, having been condemned to die, was being whipped along to the gallows by a troop of soldiers, when the leaders of the procession took it into their heads to pass in front of an inn where three Armenian noblemen were staying. These latter were ambassadors from the King of Armenia,8 on their way to Rome in order to negotiate with the Pope on very important matters connected with a crusade that was about to be launched. Having broken their journey at Trapani for a few days’ rest and relaxation, they had been lavishly entertained by the noblemen of the town, and by Messer Amerigo in particular. And on hearing Pietro’s escort passing the inn, they came to a window and peered out.
One of the three ambassadors, an elderly gentleman who wielded great authority and whose name was Phineas, fixed his gaze on Pietro, who was stripped to the waist with his hands tied behind his back, and perceived that on his chest there was a large red spot, which was not painted on the skin but imprinted there by Nature, being what the women in this part of the world describe as a strawberry mark. On seeing this, he was at once reminded of a son of his who had been abducted by pirates from the shore at Lajazzo9 some fifteen years earlier and had never been heard of since. Having made a mental estimate of the age of the poor wretch who was being scourged, he calculated that his son, if he were still alive, would be roughly the same age. Hence, because of the mark on the youth’s chest, he began to suspect that this was his own son; and he thought to himself that if this were indeed the case, the youth would still remember his name and that of his father, as well as one or two words of the Armenian language.
So when the youth came within earshot, Phineas called out:
‘Theodor!’
As soon as he heard this cry, Pietro raised his head, whereupon Phineas addressed him in Armenian, saying:
‘Where do you come from? Whose son are you?’
The soldiers escorting him halted in deference to the great man, allowing Pietro to reply:
‘I am from Armenia, my father’s name was Phineas, and I was brought here as a child by strangers.’
On hearing these words, Phineas knew for certain that this was the son he had lost. With tears in his eyes, he descended with his companions and ran through the ranks of the soldiers to embrace him. He then removed the exquisite silken cloak he was wearing, threw it over the young man’s shoulders, and asked the leader of the execution-party to be good enough to wait there until he received the order to proceed. The man readily agreed to do so.
Phineas was already aware of the reason for which the young man was being led away to his death, for it had been bruited all over the town, and he therefore hurried off with his companions and their retinue to Messer Currado, whom he addressed as follows:
‘Sir, this fellow whom you are sending to die as a slave is my own son, a freeman, and he is prepared to plight his troth to the girl he is alleged to have robbed of her virginity. I beg you therefore to postpone the execution until it is known whether she will have him as her husband, for otherwise you may find that you have acted illegally.’
On hearing that the youth was the son of Phineas, Messer Currado was filled with astonishment. Having uttered one or two apologetic phrases concerning the waywardness of Fortune, he agreed that Phineas had proved his case, and got him to return forthwith to the inn. He then sent for Messer Amerigo and told him what had happened.
Believing his daughter and grandchild to be already dead, Messer Amerigo was the most repentant man on earth, for he realized full well that if only she were still alive, it would be possible to set the whole affair to rights. However, just in case his instructions had not been carried out, and he was still in time to countermand them, he sent a message post-haste to the place where his daughter was.
The messenger found that the servant who had been sent by Messer Amerigo, having set the knife and poison in front of the girl, was bombarding her with abuse for taking so long to make up her mind, and trying to coerce her into choosing between the two. But on hearing his master’s latest command, he stopped tormenting her, returned to Messer Amerigo, and told him how matters stood. Feeling greatly relieved, Messer Amerigo made his way to the place where Phineas was staying, and, choking back his tears, he apologized as best he could for what had happened, declaring that if Theodor wished to marry his daughter, he would be delighted to let him have her.
Phineas gladly accepted his apologies, and replied:
‘I intend that my son should marry your daughter. And if he should raise any objection to doing so, let the sentence passed upon him be carried out.’
Being thus in agreement, Phineas and Messer Amerigo went to Pietro, who, though delighted at having found his father again, was still in great fear of being put to death, and they inquired into his own wishes on the subject.
On hearing that Violante would marry him if he so wished, Theodor was filled with such transports of joy that he had the sensation of passing from Hell into Heaven at a single bound; and he said that if this was what the two fathers were proposing, he could only regard it as the greatest of favours.
They therefore sent someone to ascertain the wishes of the girl herself, who after some time, having learned what had happened to Theodor and what was being proposed, ceased to be the saddest woman alive, awaiting only death to put an end to her misery. Giving some credence to the messenger’s words, she began to take a slightly rosier view of her circumstances, and replied that if she were to follow her own inclinations in the matter, nothing would make her happier than to marry Theodor; but at all events she would do whatever her father ordered.
By mutual consent, therefore, the girl’s betrothal was announced and a very great feast was held, to the immense pleasure of all the townspeople. Putting her infant son out to nurse, the girl recovered her strength, and before very long she appeared more lovely than ever. On rising from her confinement, she presented herself to Phineas, whose return from Rome everyone had meanwhile been awaiting, and greeted him with all the reverence due to a father. Phineas, delighted to have acquired so beautiful a daughter-in-law, saw to it that their nuptials were celebrated in the grand manner, with much feasting and merrymaking, and from then on he always looked upon Violante as his daughter. A few days after the nuptials, he took ship with her, his son, and his infant grandson, and sailed away with them to Lajazzo, where the two lovers lived in comfort and happiness for the rest of their days.
EIGHTH STORY
In his love for a young lady of the Traversari family, Nastagio degli Onesti squanders his wealth without being loved in return. He is entreated by his friends to leave the city, and goes away to Classe, where he sees a girl being hunted down and killed by a horseman, and devoured by a brace of hounds. He then invites his kinsfolk a
nd the lady he loves to a banquet, where this same girl is torn to pieces before the eyes of his beloved, who, fearing a similar fate, accepts Nastagio as her husband.
No sooner did Lauretta fall silent, than at the bidding of the queen Filomena began as follows:
Adorable ladies, just as our pity is commended, so is our cruelty severely punished by divine justice. And in order to prove this to you, as well as to give you an incentive for banishing all cruelty from your hearts, I should like to tell you a story as delightful as it is full of pathos.
In Ravenna,1 a city of great antiquity in Romagna, there once used to live a great many nobles and men of property, among them a young man called Nastagio degli Onesti, who had inherited an incredibly large fortune on the deaths of his father and one of his uncles. Being as yet unmarried, he fell in love, as is the way with young men, with a daughter of Messer Paolo Traversari, a girl of far more noble lineage than his own, whose love he hoped to win by dint of his accomplishments. But though these were very considerable, and splendid, and laudable, far from promoting his cause they appeared to damage it, inasmuch as the girl he loved was persistently cruel, harsh and unfriendly towards him. And on account possibly of her singular beauty, or perhaps because of her exalted rank, she became so haughty and contemptuous of him that she positively loathed him and everything he stood for.
All of this was so difficult for Nastagio to bear that he was frequently seized, after much weeping and gnashing of teeth, with the longing to kill himself out of sheer despair. But, having stayed his hand, he would then decide that he must give her up altogether, or learn if possible to hate her as she hated him. All such resolutions were unavailing, however, for the more his hopes dwindled, the greater his love seemed to grow.