Kitabı oku: «The Decameron (Day 1 to Day 5)», sayfa 38
Marke now, how quickly misery can receive comfort, upon so poore and silly a question; for Guion began to elevate his dejected countenance, and looking on the Admirall, returned him this answere. Sir, heretofore I have been the man which you spake of; but now, both that name and man must die with me. What misfortune (quoth the Admirall) hath thus unkindly crost thee? Love (answered Guion) and the Kings displeasure. Then the Admirall would needs know the whole history at large, which briefly was related to him, and having heard how all had happened; as he was turning his Horse to ride away thence, Guion called to him, saying. Good my Lord, entreate one favour for me, if possible it may be. What is that? replyed the Admirall. You see Sir (quoth Guion) that I am very shortly to breathe my last; all the grace which I doe most humbly entreate, is, that as I am here with this chaste Virgin, (whom I honour and love beyond my life) and miserably bound backe to backe: our faces may be turned each to other, to the end, that when the fire shall finish my life, by looking on her, my soule may take her flight in full felicity. The Admirall smyling, saide; I will doe for thee what I can, and (perhaps) thou mayest so long looke on her, as thou wilt be weary, and desire to looke off her.
At his departure, he commanded them that had the charge of this execution, to proceede no further, untill they heard more from the King, to whom hee gallopped immediately, and although hee beheld him to be very angerly moved; yet he spared not to speake in this manner. Sir, wherein have those poore young couple offended you, that are so shamefully to be burnt at Palermo? The King told him: whereto the Admirall (pursuing still his purpose) thus replyed. Beleeve me Sir, if true love be an offence, then theirs may be termed to be one; and albeit it did deserve death, yet farre be it from thee to inflict it on them: for as faults doe justly require punishment, so doe good turnes as equally merit grace and requitall. Knowest thou what and who they are, whom thou hast so dishonourably condemned to the fire? Not I, quoth the King. Why then I will tell thee, answered the Admirall, that thou mayest take the better knowledge of them, and forbeare hereafter, to be so over-violently transported with anger.
The young Gentleman, is the Sonne to Landolfo di Procida, the onely Brother to Lord John di Procida, by whose meanes thou becamest Lord and King of this Countrey. The faire young Damosell, is the Daughter to Marino Bolgaro, whose power extendeth so farre, as to preserve thy prerogative in Ischia, which (but for him) had long since beene out-rooted there. Beside, these two maine motives, to challenge justly grace and favour from thee; they are in the floure and pride of their youth, having long continued in loyall love together, and compelled by fervency of endeared affection, not any will to displease thy Majesty: they have offended (if it may be termed an offence to love, and in such lovely young people as they are.) Canst thou then find in thine heart to let them die, whom thou rather oughtest to honour, and recompence with no meane rewards?
When the King had heard this, and beleeved for a certainty, that the Admirall told him nothing but truth: he appointed not onely, that they should proceede no further, but also was exceeding sorrowfull for what he had done, sending presently to have them released from the Stake, and honourably to be brought before him. Being thus enstructed in their severall qualities, and standing in duty obliged, to recompence the wrong which he had done, with respective honours: he caused them to be cloathed in royall garments, and knowing them to be knit in unity of soule; the like he did by marrying them sollemnly together, and bestowing many rich gifts and presents on them, sent them honourably attented home to Ischia; where they were with much joy and comfort received, and lived long after in great felicity.
Theodoro falling in love with Violenta, the Daughter to his Master, named Amarigo, and shee conceiving with childe by him; was condemned to be hanged. As they were leading him to the Gallowes, beating and misusing him all the way: he happened to be knowne by his owne Father, whereupon hee was released, and afterward enjoyed Violenta in marriage
The seventh Novell
Wherein is declared, the sundry travels and perillous accidents, occasioned by those two powerfull Commanders, Love and Fortune, the insulting Tyrants over humaine life
Greatly were the Ladies minds perplexed, when they heard, that the two poore Lovers were in danger to be burned: but hearing afterward of their happy deliverance, for which they were as joyfull againe; upon the concluding of the Novell, the Queene looked on Madam Lauretta, enjoyning her to tell the next Tale, which willingly she undertooke to doe, and thus began.
Faire Ladies, at such time as the good King William reigned in Sicily, there lived within the same Dominions a young Gentleman, named Signior Amarigo, Abbot of Trapani, who (among his other worldly blessings, commonly termed the goods of Fortune) was not unfurnished of children; and therefore having neede of servants, he made his provision of them as best he might. At that time, certaine Gallies of Geneway Pyrates comming from the Easterne parts, which coasting along Armenia, had taken divers children; he bought some of them, thinking that they were Turkes. They all resembling clownish Peazants, yet there was one among them, who seemed to be of more tractable and gentle nature, yea, and of a more affable countenance then any of the rest, being named, Theodoro: who growing on in yeeres, (albeit he lived in the condition of a servant) was educated among Amarigoes Children, and as enstructed rather by nature, then accident, his conditions were very much commended, as also the feature of his body, which proved so highly pleasing to his Master Amarigo, that he made him a free man, and imagining him to be a Turke, caused him to be baptized, and named Pedro, creating him superintendent of all his affaires, and reposing his chiefest trust in him.
As the other Children of Signior Amarigo grew in yeeres and stature, so did a Daughter of his, named Violenta, a very goodly and beautifull Damosell, somewhat over-long kept from marriage by her Fathers covetousnesse, and casting an eye of good liking on poore Pedro. Now, albeit shee loved him very dearely, and all his behaviour was most pleasing to her, yet maiden modesty forbad her to reveale it, till Love (too long concealed) must needes disclose itselfe. Which Pedro at the length tooke notice of, and grew so forward towards her in equality of affection, as the very sight of her was his onely happinesse. Yet very fearefull he was, least it should be noted, either by any of the House, or the Maiden her selfe: who yet well observed it, and to her no meane contentment, as it appeared no lesse (on the other side) to honest Pedro.
While thus they loved together meerely in dumbe shewes, not daring to speake to each other, (though nothing more desired) to find some ease in this their oppressing passions: Fortune, even as if shee pittied their so long languishing, enstructed them how to find out a way, whereby they might both better releeve themselves. Signior Amarigo, about some two or three miles distance from Trapani, had a Countrey-House or Farme, whereto his Wife, with her Daughter and some other women, used oftentimes to make their resort, as it were in sportfull recreation; Pedro alwayes being diligent to man them thither. One time among the rest, it came to passe, as often it falleth out in the Summer season, that the faire Skie became suddenly over-clouded, even as they were returning home towards Trapani, threatning a storme of raine to overtake them, except they made the speedier haste.
Pedro, who was young, and likewise Violenta, went farre more lightly then her Mother and her company, as much perhaps provoked by love, as feare of the sudden raine falling, and paced on so fast before them, that they were wholly out of sight. After many flashes of lightning, and a few dreadfull clappes of thunder, there fell such a tempestuous shower of hayle, as compelled the Mother and her traine to shelter themselves in a poore Countrey-mans Cottage. Pedro and Violenta, having no other refuge, ranne likewise into a poore Sheepe-coate, so over ruined, as it was in danger to fall on their heads; for no body dwelt in it, neither stood any other house neere it, and it was scarcely any shelter for them, howbeit, necessity enforceth to make shift with the meanest. The storme encreasing more & more, and they coveting to avoide it so well as they could; sighes and drie hemmes were often inter-vented, as dumbly (before) they were wont to doe, when willingly they could affoord another kind of speaking.
At last Pedro tooke heart, and saide: I would this shower would never cease, that I might be alwayes where I am. The like could I wish, answered Violenta, so we were in a better place of safety. These wishes drew on other gentle language, with modest kisses and embraces, the onely ease to poore Lovers soules; so that the raine ceased not, till they had taken order for their oftner conversing, and absolute plighting of their faithes together. By this time the storme was fairely over-blowne, and they attending on the way, till the Mother and the rest were come, with whom they returned to Trapani, where by wise and provident meanes, they often conferred in private together, and enjoyed the benefit of their amorous desires; yet free from any ill surmise or suspition.
But, as Lovers felicities are sildome permanent, without one encountring crosse or other: so these stolne pleasures of Pedro and Violenta, met with as sowre a sauce in the farewell. For, shee proved to be conceived with childe, then which could befall them no heavier affliction, and Pedro fearing to loose his life therefore, determined immediate flight, and revealed his purpose to Violenta. Which when she heard, she told him plainly, that if he fled, forth-with shee would kill her selfe. Alas deare Love (quoth Pedro) with what reason can you wish my tarrying here? This conception of yours, doth discover our offence, which a Fathers pity may easily pardon in you: but I being his servant and vassall, shall be punished both for your sinne and mine, because he will have no mercy on me. Content thy selfe Pedro, replyed Violenta, I will take such order for mine owne offence, by the discreete counsell of my loving Mother, that no blame shall any way be laide on thee, or so much as a surmise, except thou wilt fondly betray thy selfe. If you can doe so, answered Pedro, and constantly maintaine your promise; I will not depart, but see that you prove to be so good as your word.
Violenta, who had concealed her amisse so long as shee could, and saw no other remedy, but now at last it must needes be discovered; went privately to her Mother, and (in teares) revealed her infirmity, humbly craving her pardon, and furtherance in hiding it from her Father. The Mother being extraordinarily displeased, chiding her with many sharpe and angry speeches, would needes know with whom shee had thus offended. The Daughter (to keepe Pedro from any detection) forged a Tale of her owne braine, farre from any truth indeede, which her Mother verily beleeving, and willing to preserve her Daughter from shame, as also the fierce anger of her Husband, he being a man of very implacable nature: conveyed her to the Countrey-Farme, whither Signior Amarigo sildome or never resorted, intending (under the shadow of sicknesse) to let her lie in there, without the least suspition of any in Trapani.
Sinne and shame can never be so closely carried, or clouded with the greatest cunning; but truth hath a loop-light whereby to discover it, even when it supposeth it selfe in the surest safety. For, on the very day of her deliverance, at such time as the Mother, and some few friends (sworne to secrecy) were about the businesse: Signior Amarigo, having beene in company of other Gentlemen, to flye his Hawke at the River, upon a sudden, (but very unfortunately, albeit he was alone by himselfe) stept into his Farme house, even to the next roome where the women were, and heard the new-borne Babe to cry, whereat marvelling not a little, he called for his Wife, to know what young childe cryed in his House. The Mother, amazed at his so strange comming thither, which never before he had used to doe, and pittying the wofull distresse of her Daughter, which now could be no longer covered, revealed what happened to Violenta. But he, being nothing so rash in beliefe, as his Wife was, made answere, that it was impossible for his Daughter to be conceived with childe, because he never observed the least signe of love in her to any man whatsoever, and therefore he would be satisfied in the truth, as shee expected any favour from him, for else there was no other way but death.
The Mother laboured by all meanes shee could devise, to pacifie her Husbands fury, which proved all in vaine; for being thus impatiently incensed, he drew foorth his Sword, and stepping with it drawne into the Chamber (where she had been delivered of a goodly Sonne) he said unto her. Either tell me who is the Father of this Bastard, or thou and it shall perish both together. Poore Violenta, lesse respecting her owne life, then she did the childes; forgot her sollemne promise made to Pedro, and discovered all. Which when Amarigo had heard, he grew so desperately enraged, that hardly he could forbeare from killing her. But after he had spoken what his fury enstructed him, hee mounted on Horse-backe againe, ryding backe to Trapani, where he disclosed the injury which Pedro had done him, to a noble Gentleman, named Signior Conrado, who was Captaine for the King over the City.
Before poore Pedro could have any intelligence, or so much as suspected any treachery against him; he was suddenly apprehended, and being called in question, stood not on any deniall, but confessed truly what he had done: whereupon, within some few dayes after, he was condemned by the Captaine, to be whipt to the place of execution, and afterward to be hanged by the necke. Signior Amarigo, because he would cut off (at one and the same time) not onely the lives of the two poore Lovers, but their childes also; as a franticke man, violently carried from all sense of compassion, even when Pedro was led and whipt to his death: he mingled strong poyson in a Cup of wine, delivering it to a trusty servant of his owne, and a naked Rapier withall, speaking to him in this manner. Goe carry these two presents to my late Daughter Violenta, and tell her from me, that in this instant houre, two severall kinds of death are offered unto her, and one of them she must make choyce of, either to drinke the poyson, and so die, or to run her body on this Rapiers point, which if she denie to doe, she shall be haled to the publike market place, and presently be burned in the sight of her lewd companion, according as shee hath worthily deserved. When thou hast delivered her this message, take her bastard brat, so lately since borne, and dash his braines out against the walles, and afterward throw him to my Dogges to feede on.
When the Father had given this cruell sentence, both against his own Daughter, and her young Sonne, the servant, readier to doe evill, then any good, went to the place where his Daughter was kept. Poore condemned Pedro, (as you have heard) was ledde whipt to the Jybbet, and passing (as it pleased the Captaines Officers to guide him) by a faire Inne: at the same time were lodged there three chiefe persons of Armenia, whom the King of the Countrey had sent to Rome, as Ambassadours to the Popes Holinesse, to negociate about an important businesse neerely concerning the King and State. Reposing there for some few dayes, as being much wearied with their journey, and highly honoured by the Gentlemen of Trapani, especially Signior Amarigo; these Ambassadours standing in their Chamber window, heard the wofull lamentations of Pedro in his passage by.
Pedro was naked from the middle upward, and his hands bound fast behind him, but being well observed by one of the Ambassadours, a man aged, and of great authority, named Phineo: he espied a great red spot uppon his breast, not painted, or procured by his punishment, but naturally imprinted in the flesh, which women (in these parts) terme the Rose. Uppon the sight hereof, he suddenly remembred a Sonne of his owne, which was stolne from him about fifteene yeeres before, by Pyrates on the Sea-coast of Laiazzo, never hearing any tydings of him afterward. Upon further consideration, and compairing his Sonnes age with the likelyhood of this poore wretched mans; thus he conferred with his owne thoughts. If my Sonne (quoth he) be living, his age is equall to this mans time, and by the redde blemish on his brest, it plainely speakes him for to be my Sonne.
Moreover, thus he conceived, that if it were he, he could not but remember his owne name, his Fathers, and the Armenian Language; wherefore, when hee was just opposite before the window, hee called aloud to him, saying: Theodoro. Pedro hearing the voyce, presently listed up his head, and Phineo speaking Armenian, saide: Of whence art thou, and what is thy Fathers name? The Sergeants (in reverence to the Lord Ambassadour) stayed a while, till Pedro had returned his answer, who saide. I am an Armenian borne, Sonne to one Phineo, and was brought hither I cannot tell by whom. Phineo hearing this, knew then assuredly, that this was the same Sonne which he had lost; wherefore, the teares standing in his eyes with conceite of joy: downe he descended from the window, and the other Ambassadours with him, running in among the Sergeants to embrace his Sonne, and casting his owne rich Cloake about his whipt body, entreating them to forbeare and proceed no further, till they heard what command he should returne withall unto them; which very willingly they promised to doe.
Already, by the generall rumour dispersed abroade, Phineo had understood the occasion, why Pedro was thus punished, and sentenced to be hanged; wherefore, accompanied with his fellow Ambassadours, and all their attending traine, he went to Signior Conrado, and spake thus to him. My Lord, he whom you have sent to death as a slave, is a free Gentleman borne, and my Sonne, able to make her amends whom he hath dishonoured, by taking her in mariage as his lawfull Wife. Let me therefore entreate you, to make stay of the execution, untill it may be knowne, whether she will accept him as her Husband, or no; least (if she be so pleased) you offend directly against your owne Law. When Signior Conrado heard, that Pedro was Sonne to the Lord Ambassadour, he wondered thereat not a little, and being somewhat ashamed of his fortunes error, confessed, that the claime of Phineo was conformable to Law, and ought not to be denied him; going presently to the Councell Chamber, sending for Signior Amarigo immediately thither, and acquainting him fully with the case.
Amarigo, who beleeved that his Daughter and her Child were already dead, was the wofullest man in the World, for his so rash proceeding, knowing very well, that if shee were not dead, the scandall would easily be wipt away with credit. Wherefore he sent in all poast haste, to the place where his Daughter lay, that if his command were not already executed, by no meanes to have it done at all. He who went on this speedy errand, found there Signior Amarigoes servant standing before Violenta, with the Cup of poyson in his one hand, and the drawne Rapier in the other, reproaching herewith very foule and injurious speeches, because shee had delayed the time so long, and would not accept the one or other, striving (by violence) to make her take the one. But hearing his Masters command to the contrary, he left her, and returned backe to him, certifying him how the case stood.
Most highly pleased was Amarigo with these glad newes, and going to the Ambassadour Phineo, in teares excused himselfe (so well as he could) for his severity, and craving pardon; assured him, that if Theodoro would accept his Daughter in mariage, willingly he would bestow her on him. Phineo allowed his excuses to be tollerable, and saide beside; If my Sonne will not mary your Daughter, then let the sentence of death be executed on him. Amarigo and Phineo being thus accorded, they went to poore Theodoro, fearefully looking every minute when he should die, yet joyfull that he had found his Father, who presently moved the question to him. Theodoro hearing that Violenta should be his Wife, if he would so accept her: was overcome with such exceeding joy, as if he had leapt out of hell into Paradise; confessing, that no greater felicity could befall him, if Violenta her selfe were so well pleased as he.
The like motion was made to her, to understand her disposition in this case, who hearing what good hap had befalne Theodoro, and now in like manner must happen to her: whereas not long before, when two such violent deathes were prepared for her, and one of them she must needes embrace, shee accounted her misery beyond all other womens, but shee now thought her selfe above all in happinesse, if she might be wife to her beloved Theodoro, submitting herselfe wholy to her Fathers disposing. The mariage being agreed on betweene them, it was celebrated with great pompe and sollemnity, a generall Feast being made for all the Citizens, and the young maried couple nourished up their sweete Son, which grew to be a very comely childe.
After that the Embassie was dispatched at Rome, and Phineo (with the rest) was returned thither againe; Violenta did reverence him as her owne naturall Father, and he was not a little proud of so lovely a Daughter, beginning a fresh feasting againe, and continuing the same a whole moneth together. Within some short while after, a Galley being fairely furnished for the purpose, Phineo, his Sonne, Daughter, and their young Son went aboard, sayling away thence to Laiazzo, where afterward they lived long in much tranquility.
