Feeling more frightened than ever, the women got out of bed and ran to the windows, shouting: ‘Burglars! Burglars!’ And so several of their neighbours rushed into the house from various directions, some by way of the roof, some by the front-door, and others by the entrance at the rear. And the noise reached such a pitch that even the young men woke up and scrambled out of bed.
On finding himself in the midst of all this commotion, Ruggieri very nearly collapsed with astonishment. He was in no condition to make a dash for it, and in any case he could see that escape was impossible; so he was seized and handed over to the chief magistrate’s officers, who had meanwhile rushed to the scene, having been attracted by all the noise. He was then taken before the chief magistrate, and since he had a very bad reputation he was immediately put to the torture and forced to confess that he had broken into the money-lenders’ house with intent to rob, whereupon the magistrate resolved to have him hanged by the neck at the earliest opportunity.
During the course of the morning, the news that Ruggieri had been caught red-handed burgling the money-lenders’ house spread like wildfire through the whole of Salerno. And when the lady and her maid came to hear of it, they were so bewildered and astonished that they almost began to think that instead of actually doing what they had done the night before they had merely been dreaming. What was more, the lady was nearly out of her mind with anxiety at the thought of the danger that Ruggieri was in.
Halfway through the morning, the doctor returned from Amalfi and sent someone to fetch his potion so that he could operate on his patient, and when the bottle was found to be empty he made a great commotion and protested that he could not leave anything in his own house without people interfering with it.
The lady, who had troubles of her own to think about, lost her temper with him and said:
‘I wonder what you would say if something really terrible had happened, when you create so much fuss over a spilled bottle of water? Isn’t there plenty more of it about?’
‘My dear,’ said the surgeon, ‘you seem to think that it was ordinary water, but that is not the case. On the contrary, it was a potion specially prepared for putting people to sleep.’
He then told her what he needed it for, and it immediately dawned upon the lady that Ruggieri must have drunk the potion, which explained why they had thought he was dead.
‘We knew nothing of all that,’ she said. ‘You’ll have to make yourself some more of it.’
Seeing that he had no alternative, the surgeon sent out for a second bottle of the stuff, and shortly afterwards the maid, who on the lady’s instructions had gone out to discover what people were saying about Ruggieri, returned to her mistress, saying:
‘Everyone is saying awful things about him, ma’am, and as far as I was able to discover, there is not one of his friends or relatives who has lifted a finger to save him or has any intention of doing so. Everyone is quite convinced that the judge will have him hanged tomorrow. But there’s another thing I want to tell you, and that is that I think I have discovered how he came to be in the money-lenders’ house. Just listen, and I’ll tell you. You know the carpenter, don’t you, in front of whose shop we found the trunk to put Ruggieri in? Well, he was having a heated argument just now with a man to whom it appears that the trunk belonged. The man was demanding to be paid for his trunk, and the carpenter was denying he had sold it, saying that on the contrary it had been stolen from him during the night. And the man said: “It’s not true. You sold it to the two young money-lenders. They told me so themselves, for I spotted the trunk on going into their house early this morning, when Ruggieri was being arrested.” “They are lying,” said the carpenter, “for I never sold it to them. They must have stolen it from me last night. Let us go round and see them.” So off they went by mutual agreement to the money-lenders’ house, and I came back here. As you can see, I think this explains how Ruggieri was taken to the place where he was discovered. But I still can’t make out how he came to life again.’
The lady now understood exactly what had happened. She told the maid about her conversation with the doctor, and begged her to help in freeing Ruggieri, telling her that she was in a position, if she so wished, to save Ruggieri and preserve the reputation of her mistress at one and the same time.
‘Tell me what I have to do, ma’am,’ said the maid, ‘and I’ll do it gladly, no matter what it involves.’
The lady, who saw that there was no time to lose, quickly improvised a plan of campaign and expounded it carefully to the maid, who first of all went straight to the doctor and, bursting into tears, said to him:
‘Sir, I have done you a serious wrong, and I must ask you to forgive me.’
‘And what may that be?’ asked the surgeon.
‘Sir,’ replied the maid, continuing to weep, ‘it concerns Ruggieri d’Aieroli. You know what a headstrong lad he is? Well, he took a fancy to me, and what with my fear of him on the one hand and my love for him on the other, a month or two ago I was obliged to become his mistress. When he discovered you were not going to be here last night, he talked me into allowing him into your house to sleep with me in my room. He said he was thirsty, but I hadn’t a drop of wine or water to offer him. I couldn’t go downstairs without being seen by your good lady, who was in the drawing-room, but I remembered having seen a bottle of water in your bedroom, and so I ran to fetch it, gave it him to drink, and put the bottle back again where I had found it. They tell me you’ve been playing merry hell about it, and I freely confess that it was wrong of me to do it, but then everybody makes a blunder occasionally. I can only say that I am very sorry, not only for doing what I did, but also for Ruggieri’s sake, because he is about to lose his life over it. I therefore beseech you with all my heart to forgive me and let me go and see what I can do to help Ruggieri.’
Angry though he was to hear what she had done, the doctor had difficulty in keeping a straight face.
‘You have been hoist with your own petard,’ he replied. ‘For you thought you had a young man who would shake your skin-coat well and truly last night, instead of which you had a slug-abed. Now go and see about saving your lover, and take good care in future not to bring him into the house again, otherwise I shall make you pay for it twice over.’
Feeling that she had emerged with flying colours from the first of her engagements, the maid hurried round as quickly as possible to the prison and wheedled the gaoler into letting her speak to Ruggieri. And after telling him what he was to say to the judge if he wanted to be saved, she actually succeeded in getting the judge himself to grant her a hearing.
The judge saw that she was a tasty-looking dish, and thought he would have just one little nibble before listening to what she had to say. Knowing that she would obtain a better hearing, the girl did not object in the slightest, and when the snack was finished she picked herself up and said:
‘Sir, you are holding Ruggieri d’Aieroli here on a charge of theft, but you’ve arrested the wrong man.’
She then told him the whole story from beginning to end, explaining how she, who was his mistress, had let him into the doctor’s house, and how she had unwittingly given him the opiate to drink, and how she had stuffed him inside the trunk thinking him to be dead. After this she told him about the conversation she had overheard between the master-carpenter and the trunk’s owner, thus showing him how Ruggieri had ended up in the house of the money-lenders.
Seeing that it was an easy matter to verify her story, the judge first of all inquired of the surgeon whether what she had said about the potion was true, and discovered that it was. He then summoned the carpenter, the owner of the trunk, and the money-lenders, and after listening to a string of tall stories from the money-lenders, he found that they had stolen the trunk during the night and brought it into their house. Finally he sent for Ruggieri and asked him where he had lodged the previous evening. Ruggieri replied that he had no idea where he had lodged, but that he clearly remembered going to lodge with Doctor Mazzeo’
s maid, in whose bedroom he had drunk some water because he was very thirsty; what happened to him after that he was unable to say, except that he had woken up in the money-lenders’ house to find himself inside a trunk.
The judge was greatly entertained by what he had heard, and made Ruggieri and the maid and the carpenter and the money-lenders repeat their stories several times over. In the end, pronouncing Ruggieri innocent, he ordered the money-lenders to pay a fine of ten gold florins, and set Ruggieri at liberty. You can all imagine what a relief this was for Ruggieri, and of course his mistress was absolutely delighted. She later celebrated his release in the company of Ruggieri himself, and along with the dear maid who had wanted to stick him with a knife, they had many a good laugh about it together. Their love continued to flourish, affording them greater and greater pleasure – which is what I should like to happen to me, except that I would not want to be stuffed inside a trunk.
* * *
If the earlier stories had saddened the fair ladies’ hearts, this last one of Dioneo’s caused so much merriment, especially the bit about the judge and his little nibble, that it drove away the melancholy engendered by the others.
But perceiving that the sun was beginning to turn yellow and that his reign had come to a close, the king offered the fair ladies a most handsome apology for having foisted so disagreeable a theme as the misfortunes of lovers upon them. Having made his excuses, he stood up and removed the laurel wreath from his head. All the ladies wondered to which of them it would be given, and eventually he set it down with a flourish upon the fine blonde head of Fiammetta, saying:
‘I now bequeath you this crown, knowing that you are better able than any other to restore the spirits of our fair companions tomorrow after the rigours of the present day’s proceedings.’
Fiammetta, who had long, golden curls that cascaded down over delicate, pure white shoulders, a softly rounded face that glowed with the authentic hues of white lilies and crimson roses, a pair of eyes in her head that gleamed like a falcon’s, and a sweet little mouth with lips like rubies, answered Filostrato with a smile, saying:
‘I accept it with pleasure, Filostrato; and so that you may the more keenly appreciate the error of your ways, I desire and decree forthwith that each of us should be ready on the morrow to recount the adventures of lovers who survived calamities or misfortunes and attained a state of happiness.’
Fiammetta’s proposal met with general approval, and after summoning the steward and making appropriate arrangements, she rose to her feet and gaily dismissed the whole company till supper-time.
So they all wandered off to amuse themselves until supper in whatever way they pleased, some of them remaining in the garden, of whose beauties one did not easily tire, whilst others ventured beyond its confines and made for the windmills, whose sails were turning in the evening breeze.
When it was time for supper, they forgathered as usual beside the beautiful fountain, and partook of a most delicious meal, excellently served. Then, having risen from table, they devoted themselves to singing and dancing in their customary fashion, with Filomena leading the revels, and the queen said:
‘Filostrato, it is not my intention to depart from the ways of my predecessors. Like them, I too intend to command that a song should be sung, and since I am sure that your songs will be no less gloomy than your stories, I desire that you should choose one and sing it to us now, so that no day other than this will be blighted by your woes.’
Filostrato rephed that he would be only too willing to obey, and launched immediately into a song, the words of which ran as follows:
‘With fitting tears, I show
The mourning heart bereaved,
Its faith in Love deceived.
‘Love, who first fixed into my heart
She for whom now I sigh in vain,
You showed me her so full of grace
That I held light each bitter pain
Which came to torment me
So everlastingly.
I know my error now;
Not without grief, I vow.
‘I comprehend that false deceit
And see how, while I thought that she
Seemed to allow my love, she’d found
Another servant, spurning me.
Ah, then I could not see
My future misery!
But she the other took
And me for him forsook.
‘A mournful song swelled through my heart
When I perceived that I was spurned,
That dwells there still; and oft I curse
Faith, hope, love and the hour I learned
Her noble beauteousness
Whose radiance doth oppress
My dying soul, which yet
Cannot those charms forget.
‘Bereft of every comfort now,
Oh, Lord of love, to you I cry;
I burn with such a torment here
That for a less I’d crave to die.
Come Death, then, end my life
With all its cruel strife;
Strike down my misery!
I shall the better be.
‘No other way nor other ease
Remains to soothe my grief but death.
Grant me this, Love, and end my woes;
Take from me now my wretched breath.
All joy is gone from me,
No pleasure’s left for me;
Make then my death content her
As the new love you sent her.
‘My song, if none should learn to sing
Thee over, I take little care;
No one can sing thee as I can.
Only, to Love one message bear:
Beg him, since life was all
Loathsome to me, and vile,
To safer haven take
Me for his honour’s sake.’
Filostrato’s mood, and the reason, were made abundantly clear by the words of his song. And perhaps the face of one of the ladies dancing1 would have clarified the matter still further if the shades of darkness, which had meanwhile descended, had not concealed the blush which spread across her cheeks as he was singing.
Many other songs followed, until finally it was time for them to go to bed, whereupon, by the queen’s command, they all retired to their rooms.
Here ends the Fourth Day of the Decameron
FIFTH DAY
Here begins the Fifth Day, wherein, under the rule of Fiam-metta, are discussed the adventures of lovers who survived calamities or misfortunes and attained a state of happiness.
The whole of the East was already suffused with white, and the heavens of our western world were shot through by the rays of the rising sun, when Fiammetta was roused from sleep by the melodious songs of the birds in the trees, chanting their joyous greetings to the dawn. She arose and sent for all the other ladies and the three young men, then sauntered down with her companions to the fields, where, walking over the dew of the broad and grassy plain, she conversed agreeably with the others upon this and that, till the sun had climbed well into the sky. But as the heat of the sun’s rays grew more intense, she retraced her steps, and on reaching the house she saw that her companions were refreshed from the gentle exertions of their walk with excellent wines and sweetmeats, after which they whiled away their time till breakfast in the delectable garden. No detail had been overlooked by their resourceful steward in the preparation of the meal, to which in due course, at the bidding of the queen, after singing some canzonets and one or two ballades, they gaily addressed themselves. One by one, they disposed of the various dishes with relish, and when the meal was over, mindful of the practice already established, they danced and sang to the music of instruments. The queen then dismissed them till after the siesta hour, whereat some of them went away to sleep, whilst the others remained in the garden to savour its pleasures.
But shortly after nones,1 at the queen’s command, they all forgathered as usual beside the fountain. And having seated herself in a position of ho
nour, the queen fixed her gaze upon Panfilo, smiled, and bade him tell the first of the day’s stories, all of which were to end happily. Panfilo readily agreed, and began as follows:
FIRST STORY
Cimon1 acquires wisdom through falling in love with Iphigenia, whom he later abducts on the high seas. After being imprisoned at Rhodes, he is released by Lysimachus, with whom he abducts both Iphigenia and Cassandra whilst they are celebrating their nuptials. They then flee with their ladies to Crete, whence after marrying them they are summoned back with their wives to their respective homes.
Delectable ladies, I can think of many stories with which I could aptly make a beginning to so joyful a day as this. But there is one in particular that strikes me as specially pleasing, for not only will it enable you to perceive the happy goal to which our discussions will from now on be directed, but it will also allow you to appreciate the sacredness, the power, and the beneficial effects of the forces of Love, which so many people, ignorant of what they are saying, mistakenly treat with contempt and abuse. All of which, unless I am mistaken, you will find most agreeable, for I take it that you are yourselves in love.
In the chronicles of the ancient Cypriots, then, we read that there once lived in the island of Cyprus a very noble gentleman, Aristippus by name, who was richer in worldly possessions than any other man in the country. And if Fortune had not presented him with one particular source of affliction, he would have accounted himself the happiest man alive. This consisted in the fact that one of his children, a youth of outstandingly handsome appearance and perfect physique, was to all intents and purposes an imbecile, whose case was regarded as hopeless. His true name was Galesus, but since the sum total of his tutor’s persistent efforts, his father’s cajolings and beatings, and all the ingenuity of various others, had failed to drum a scrap of learning or good manners into his head, on the contrary leaving him coarsely inarticulate and with the manners rather of a wild beast than a human being, he had earned himself the unflattering nickname of Cimon, which in their language has the same sort of meaning as ‘simpleton’ in ours. His hopeless condition was a matter of very grave concern to his father, who, despairing of any improvement and not wishing to have the source of his affliction constantly before him, ordered him to go and live with his farm-workers in the country. Cimon was only too pleased to obey, for to his way of thinking the customs and practices of country yokels were far more congenial than life in the city.
The Decameron Page 59
