--
Teodoro, being enamoured of Violante, daughter of Messer Amerigo, his
lord, gets her with child, and is sentenced to the gallows; but while he
is being scourged thither, he is recognized by his father, and being set
at large, takes Violante to wife.
--
While they doubted whether the two lovers would be burned, the ladies
were all fear and suspense; but when they heard of their deliverance,
they all with one accord put on a cheerful countenance, praising God. The
story ended, the queen ordained that the next should be told by Lauretta,
who blithely thus began:--
Fairest ladies, what time good King Guglielmo ruled Sicily there dwelt on
the island a gentleman, Messer Amerigo Abate da Trapani by name, who was
well provided, as with other temporal goods, so also with children. For
which cause being in need of servants, he took occasion of the appearance
in Trapani waters of certain Genoese corsairs from the Levant, who,
scouring the coast of Armenia, had captured not a few boys, to purchase
of them some of these youngsters, supposing them to be Turks; among whom,
albeit most shewed as mere shepherd boys, there was one, Teodoro, by
name, whose less rustic mien seemed to betoken gentle blood. Who, though
still treated as a slave, was suffered to grow up in the house with
Messer Amerigo's children, and, nature getting the better of
circumstance, bore himself with such grace and dignity that Messer
Amerigo gladly gave him his freedom, and still deeming him to be a Turk,
had him baptized and named Pietro, and made him his majordomo, and placed
much trust in him. Now among the other children that grew up in Messer
Amerigo's house was his fair and dainty daughter, Violante; and, as her
father was in no hurry to give her in marriage, it so befell that she
became enamoured of Pietro, but, for all her love and the great conceit
she had of his qualities and conduct, she nevertheless was too shamefast
to discover her passion to him. However, Love spared her the pains, for
Pietro had cast many a furtive glance in her direction, and had grown so
enamoured of her that 'twas never well with him except he saw her; but
great was his fear lest any should detect his passion, for he deemed
'twould be the worse for him. The damsel, who was fain indeed of the
sight of him, understood his case; and to encourage him dissembled not
her exceeding great satisfaction. On which footing they remained a great
while, neither venturing to say aught to the other, much as both longed
to do so. But, while they both burned with a mutual flame, Fortune, as if
their entanglement were of her preordaining, found means to banish the
fear and hesitation that kept them tongue-tied.
Messer Amerigo possessed, a mile or so from Trapani, a goodly estate, to
which he was wont not seldom to resort with his daughter and other ladies
by way of recreation; and on one of these days, while there they tarried
with Pietro, whom they had brought with them, suddenly, as will sometimes
happen in summer, the sky became overcast with black clouds, insomuch
that the lady and her companions, lest the storm should surprise them
there, set out on their return to Trapani, making all the haste they
might. But Pietro and the girl being young, and sped perchance by Love no
less than by fear of the storm, completely outstripped her mother and the
other ladies; and when they were gotten so far ahead as to be well-nigh
out of sight of the lady and all the rest, the thunder burst upon them
peal upon peal, hard upon which came a fall of hail very thick and close,
from which the lady sought shelter in the house of a husbandman. Pietro
and the damsel, finding no more convenient refuge, betook them to an old,
and all but ruinous, and now deserted, cottage, which, however, still had
a bit of roof left, whereunder they both took their stand in such close
quarters, owing to the exiguity of the shelter, that they perforce
touched one another. Which contact was the occasion that they gathered
somewhat more courage to disclose their love; and so it was that Pietro
began on this wise:--"Now would to God that this hail might never cease,
that so I might stay here for ever!" "And well content were I," returned
the damsel. And by and by their hands met, not without a tender pressure,
and then they fell to embracing and so to kissing one another, while the
hail continued. And not to dwell on every detail, the sky was not clear
before they had known the last degree of love's felicity, and had taken
thought how they might secretly enjoy one another in the future. The
cottage being close to the city gate, they hied them thither, as soon as
the storm was overpast, and having there awaited the lady, returned home
with her. Nor, using all discretion, did they fail thereafter to meet
from time to time in secret, to their no small solace; and the affair
went so far that the damsel conceived, whereby they were both not a
little disconcerted; insomuch that the damsel employed many artifices to
arrest the course of nature, but to no effect. Wherefore Pietro, being in
fear of his life, saw nothing for it but flight, and told her so.
Whereupon:--"If thou leave me," quoth she, "I shall certainly kill
myself." Much as he loved her, Pietro answered:--"Nay but, my lady,
wherefore wouldst thou have me tarry here? Thy pregnancy will discover
our offence: thou wilt be readily forgiven; but 'twill be my woeful lot
to bear the penalty of thy sin and mine." "Pietro," returned the damsel,
"too well will they wot of my offence, but be sure that, if thou confess
not, none will ever wot of thine." Then quoth he:--"Since thou givest me
this promise, I will stay; but mind thou keep it."
The damsel, who had done her best to keep her condition secret, saw at
length by the increase of her bulk that 'twas impossible: wherefore one
day most piteously bewailing herself, she made her avowal to her mother,
and besought her to shield her from the consequences. Distressed beyond
measure, the lady chid her severely, and then asked her how it had come
to pass. The damsel, to screen Pietro, invented a story by which she put
another complexion on the affair. The lady believed her, and, that her
fall might not be discovered, took her off to one of their estates;
where, the time of her delivery being come, and she, as women do in such
a case, crying out for pain, it so befell that Messer Amerigo, whom the
lady expected not, as indeed he was scarce ever wont, to come there, did
so, having been out a hawking, and passing by the chamber where the
damsel lay, marvelled to hear her cries, and forthwith entered, and asked
what it meant. On sight of whom the lady rose and sorrowfully gave him
her daughter's version of what had befallen her. But he, less credulous
than his wife, averred that it could not be true that she knew not by
whom she was pregnant, and was minded to know the whole truth: let the
damsel confess and she might regain his favour; otherwise she must expect
no mercy and prepare for death.
The lady did all she could to induce her husband to rest satisfied with
what she had told him; but all to no purpose. Mad with rage, he rushed,
drawn sword in hand, to his daughter's bedside (she, pending the parley,
having given birth to a boy) and cried out:--"Declare whose this infant
is, or forthwith thou diest." Overcome by fear of death, the damsel broke
her promise to Pietro, and made a clean breast of all that had passed
between him and her. Whereat the knight, grown fell with rage, could
scarce refrain from slaying her. However, having given vent to his wrath
in such words as it dictated, he remounted his horse and rode to Trapani,
and there before one Messer Currado, the King's lieutenant, laid
information of the wrong done him by Pietro, in consequence whereof
Pietro, who suspected nothing, was forthwith taken, and being put to the
torture, confessed all. Some days later the lieutenant sentenced him to
be scourged through the city, and then hanged by the neck; and Messer
Amerigo, being minded that one and the same hour should rid the earth of
the two lovers and their son (for to have compassed Pietro's death was
not enough to appease his wrath), mingled poison and wine in a goblet,
and gave it to one of his servants with a drawn sword, saying:--"Get thee
with this gear to Violante, and tell her from me to make instant choice
of one of these two deaths, either the poison or the steel; else, I will
have her burned, as she deserves, in view of all the citizens; which
done, thou wilt take the boy that she bore a few days ago, and beat his
brains out against the wall, and cast his body for a prey to the dogs."
Hearing the remorseless doom thus passed by the angry father upon both
his daughter and his grandson, the servant, prompt to do evil rather than
good, hied him thence.
Now, as Pietro in execution of his sentence was being scourged to the
gallows by the serjeants, 'twas so ordered by the leaders of the band
that he passed by an inn, where were three noblemen of Armenia, sent by
the king of that country as ambassadors to Rome, to treat with the Pope
of matters of the highest importance, touching a crusade that was to be;
who, having there alighted to rest and recreate them for some days, had
received not a few tokens of honour from the nobles of Trapani, and most
of all from Messer Amerigo. Hearing the tramp of Pietro's escort, they
came to a window to see what was toward; and one of them, an aged man,
and of great authority, Fineo by name, looking hard at Pietro, who was
stripped from the waist up, and had his hands bound behind his back,
espied on his breast a great spot of scarlet, not laid on by art, but
wrought in the skin by operation of Nature, being such as the ladies here
call a rose. Which he no sooner saw, than he was reminded of a son that
had been stolen from him by corsairs on the coast of Lazistan some
fifteen years before, nor had he since been able to hear tidings of him;
and guessing the age of the poor wretch that was being scourged, he set
it down as about what his son's would be, were he living, and, what with
the mark and the age, he began to suspect that 'twas even his son, and
bethought him that, if so, he would scarce as yet have forgotten his name
or the speech of Armenia. Wherefore, as he was within earshot he called
to him:--"Teodoro!" At the word Pietro raised his head: whereupon Fineo,
speaking in Armenian, asked him:--"Whence and whose son art thou?" The
serjeants, that were leading him, paused in deference to the great man,
and so Pietro answered:--"Of Armenia was I, son of one Fineo, brought
hither by folk I wot not of, when I was but a little child." Then Fineo,
witting that in very truth 'twas the boy that he had lost, came down with
his companions, weeping; and, all the serjeants making way, he ran to
him, and embraced him, and doffing a mantle of richest texture that he
wore, he prayed the captain of the band to be pleased to tarry there
until he should receive orders to go forward, and was answered by the
captain that he would willingly so wait.
Fineo already knew, for 'twas bruited everywhere, the cause for which
Pietro was being led to the gallows; wherefore he straightway hied him
with his companions and their retinue to Messer Currado, and said to
him:--"Sir, this lad, whom you are sending to the gallows like a slave,
is freeborn, and my son, and is ready to take to wife her whom, as 'tis
said, he has deflowered; so please you, therefore, delay the execution
until such time as it may be understood whether she be minded to have him
for husband, lest, should she be so minded, you be found to have broken
the law." Messer Currado marvelled to hear that Pietro was Fineo's son,
and not without shame, albeit 'twas not his but Fortune's fault,
confessed that 'twas even as Fineo said: and having caused Pietro to be
taken home with all speed, and Messer Amerigo to be brought before him,
told him the whole matter. Messer Amerigo, who supposed that by this time
his daughter and grandson must be dead, was the saddest man in the world
to think that 'twas by his deed, witting that, were the damsel still
alive, all might very easily be set right: however, he sent post haste to
his daughter's abode, revoking his orders, if they were not yet carried
out. The servant, whom he had earlier despatched, had laid the sword and
poison before the damsel, and, for that she was in no hurry to make her
choice, was giving her foul words, and endeavouring to constrain her
thereto, when the messenger arrived; but on hearing the injunction laid
upon him by his lord, he desisted, and went back, and told him how things
stood. Whereupon Messer Amerigo, much relieved, hied him to Fineo, and
well-nigh weeping, and excusing himself for what had befallen, as best he
knew how, craved his pardon, and professed himself well content to give
Teodoro, so he were minded to have her, his daughter to wife. Fineo
readily accepted his excuses, and made answer:--"'Tis my will that my son
espouse your daughter, and, so he will not, let thy sentence passed upon
him be carried out."
So Fineo and Messer Amerigo being agreed, while Teodoro still languished
in fear of death, albeit he was glad at heart to have found his father,
they questioned him of his will in regard of this matter.
When he heard that, if he would, he might have Violante to wife,
Teodoro's delight was such that he seemed to leap from hell to paradise,
and said that, if 'twas agreeable to them all, he should deem it the
greatest of favours. So they sent to the damsel to learn her pleasure:
who, having heard how it had fared, and was now like to fare, with
Teodoro, albeit, saddest of women, she looked for nought but death, began
at length to give some credence to their words, and to recover heart a
little, and answered that, were she to follow the bent of her desire,
nought that could happen would delight her more than to be Teodoro's
wife; but nevertheless she would do as her father bade her.
So, all agreeing, the damsel was espoused with all pomp and festal cheer,
to the boundless delight of all the citizens, and was comforted, and
nurtured her little boy, and in no long time waxed more beautiful than
ever before; and, her confinement being ended, she presented herself
before Fineo, who was then about to quit Rome on his homeward journey,
and did him such reverence as is due to a father. Fineo, mighty well
pleased to have so fair a daughter-in-law, caused celebrate her nuptials
most bravely and gaily, and received, and did ever thereafter entreat,
her as his daughter.
And so he took her, not many days after the festivities were ended, with
his son and little grandson, aboard a galley, and brought them to
Lazistan, and there thenceforth the two lovers dwelt with him in easeful
and lifelong peace.