_How Maurice foresees, by his astrological Knowledge, that an evil
Accident will befall them at Sea._
All the persons who had escaped from the barbarous isle dungeons,
embarked in the vessel which brought Maurice and Ladislaus, along with
the officers and soldiers who guarded the prisoners. And in Arnoldo's
ship were accommodated Periander, Auristella, Ricla and Constance, and
the two Antonios, father and son, Ladislaus, Maurice, and Transila.
Nor would Arnoldo permit Clodio and Rosamund to be left on the island;
Rutilio, too, had a berth in his vessel. They took in water that night,
and brought from the host of the inn all the provisions they could
collect. Having prepared on all points for the departure, Maurice said,
that if good fortune preserved them from a disaster that threatened
them, the voyage would be a prosperous one; and that this evil which
threatened, although on the water, would not, if it happened, proceed
from any tempest or hurricane, but from treason, forged and devised by
wicked and treacherous intentions.
Periander, who was always in fear when in Arnoldo's company, began
to be alarmed lest this treason should be devised by the prince, in
order to obtain the lovely Auristella, since he might easily carry
her off when on board his own ship; but then he opposed to this, the
generous nature of the prince, and would not believe it could be as he
feared, since treachery lurks not in noble breasts. But, nevertheless,
he failed not to ask and question Maurice very closely, touching the
quarter from whence the threatened danger might be expected. Maurice
answered, that this he could not tell; only he knew that the thing was
to be, for certain, although he softened the severity of the evil, by
assuring them that none of those who sustained it would lose their
life, but only their peace of mind would suffer, because they would
find their plans and designs frustrated and the failure of their best
arranged hopes. To which Periander suggested, that their departure
might be delayed a few days, as possibly the evil influences of the
stars might change, or moderate with time. "No," replied Maurice,
"better will it be for us to meet this danger, since it does not affect
our lives, than to wait for perhaps some other which may prove more
fatal." "Then," said Periander, "since the Fates will have it so, let
us depart directly, and let Heaven do as it pleases, since nothing we
can contrive will avert its wrath."
Arnoldo satisfied their host with magnificent and liberal gifts for his
hospitality, and some in one ship, some in another, each one according
to what best suited him, left the harbour, and made sail.
Arnoldo's ship went out of port bravely decked, and adorned with light
streamers, and banners, and flying pendants: when she weighed anchor,
the mist was dispersed by a salute of artillery; the joyous sounds of
the clarion, and other musical instruments, filled the air; voices were
heard repeating again and again, "a happy voyage; a happy voyage." Yet
all the while did Auristella sit musing, with her head sunk upon her
breast, full of sad presage of ills to come. Periander and Arnoldo kept
looking at her, again and again; both holding her dear as the apple of
their eye, the end of their thoughts and beginning of their joys.
The day closed in, and night came on, clear and serene: a gentle breeze
dispersing the fleecy clouds which seemed else as if they would have
met together.
Maurice fixed his gaze upon the heavens, and seemed to be again reading
there, in imagination, the signs of what he had foretold; and to
confirm anew the danger which impended; but nothing could he discover
of the quarter from which it should come. In this disturbed state of
mind, he fell asleep on the deck; and in a short time after awoke in a
fright, crying out loudly, "Treason, treason, treason; awake, Prince
Arnoldo, we are killed by your people."
At this cry, the prince, who was not sleeping, because he was in the
same berth with Periander, rose, and coming up to Maurice, said, "What
ails you, friend Maurice? Who has offended us? or who will kill us?
Are not all in this ship our friends? Is not the crew composed of my
own vassals and servants? Is not the sky clear and serene? The sea
tranquil? And is not our ship sailing steadily, without touching any
shoal, or sunken rock? Does any obstacle detain us? If there is nothing
of all this, what are you afraid of, that you alarm us thus by your
sudden terrors?"
"I know not," replied Maurice; "but, my lord, I pray you let the divers
go down, and see that all is safe in the hold; for, unless it was a
dream, I thought we were about to sink." Hardly had he spoken, when
four or five seamen let themselves down into the bottom of the ship,
and searched it thoroughly, for they were experienced divers. They
found neither hole nor opening of any kind through which the water
could enter, and returned to the deck, saying, that the ship was safe
and sound; and that the water in the hold was thick and stagnant, a
clear proof that no fresh water had made its way into the ship. "Then,"
said Maurice, "it must needs be, that I, like an old man, (since age is
often fearful,) have been scared by a dream; and Heaven grant it may be
only a dream; for I would rather appear a fearful old man, than be a
true prophet."
"Then," said Arnoldo, "compose yourself, my good Maurice, for such
dreams as these affright the ladies."
"I will if I can," he replied; and returned to his place on deck to lie
down. In the ship an anxious silence prevailed.
Rutilio, who was seated at the foot of the mainmast, invited by the
serenity of the night, and the quiet of the hour; or because he had a
very fine voice, and that the sweet sounds of the wind, that gently
murmured among the sails, reminded him of music, began to sing the
following words in his own Tuscan tongue, which, if translated, run
thus--
The Patriarch in days of yore
Fled from th' avenging hand,
Which, to a wide destruction doom'd
The whole offending land;
But to his servant warning gave,
Himself and all his kin,
The little remnant of mankind,
Rest safe the ark within.
Asylum blest! secure abode!
Which 'scaped th' inevitable death
That then embrac'd each living thing,
All creatures that drew breath.
And there, within that wondrous ark,
The lamb and lion dwell
In friendship, and the gentle dove
Sits by the falcon fell.
And so we see in these our days
It often does befall,
Such things there are, although there be
No miracle at all;
The most discordant souls on earth
In friendship will agree;
If in one common peril joined,
In fellowship they be.
Antonio, who best understood the words Rutilio sung, cried, "Well
sung, Rutilio, if thou hast thyself composed those verses, thou art
no bad poet; though I do not know how a dancing-master can be a good
one; nevertheless, I am wrong in saying this, for I remember well
that in my own land of Spain, there were poets of all professions."
Maurice overheard him speak thus, and so did the prince and Periander,
who could not sleep; and Maurice said, "It is very possible for an
artizan to be a poet; poetry lying not in the fingers, but the mind;
and the soul of a tailor is as capable of poetic feeling as that of
a gentleman; for souls are all of equal rank, and of the same nature
originally, but formed and fashioned by their Maker, and according to
the temperament and disposition of the body in which each is enclosed,
so appear they more or less learned and wise, and inclined to study
and know the arts and sciences, and other things to which their stars
dispose them. But in speaking of a poet, one generally says that he
is _nascitur_, born such. I see no reason, then, to wonder at Rutilio
being a poet, although he is a dancing-master."
"And so great a one," said Antonio, "that he has cut capers in the air,
even beyond the clouds." "Even so," answered Rutilio, who was listening
all this time; "I made them even up in the sky, when I travelled in
the witch's mantle from Tuscany to Norway, where I killed her when she
changed into a wolf, as I have before told you."
"That tale about men and women being turned into wolves, is a great
error," said Maurice, "although it is believed by many."
"How is it, then," asked Arnoldo, "that it is generally said, and held
as a fact, that in England, troops of wolves go about the fields, who
are human creatures that have been so transformed?" (Note 2).
"In England," Maurice replied, "such things could not be, because not
only are there no wolves in that fertile and cultivated country, but no
noxious animals whatever, such as serpents, vipers, toads, spiders and
scorpions; also it is a well-known fact, that if any poisonous animal
is brought thither from other parts, when it arrives there, it dies;
and if the earth of this island be carried to any other place, and a
viper be surrounded with this earth, it dares not leave the circle
so made in which it is imprisoned, and runs round and round until it
dies." (Note 3.)
"All we can understand about the transformation of persons into wolves
is, that there exists a complaint or disease, which is called by
physicians the wolf-mania; its nature is, that the person afflicted
with it fancies himself changed into a wolf, and howls like one; and,
joining with others who are similarly afflicted, go ranging about the
country in parties, barking like dogs, and howling like wolves; tearing
down trees, killing any one they meet, and devouring the raw flesh of
the dead. And, at the present time, I know that there are in Sicily,
which is the largest of the Mediterranean isles, people of this sort,
called by the Sicilians, _Lobos menar_, were wolves, or _loups garoux_.
"These persons know and feel when this terrible infirmity is about to
seize them, and they warn those who are about them, that they may fly
from and avoid them; or that they may tie them fast, or lock them up;
because, if not prevented, they will tear anything that approaches them
to pieces, and destroy them with both their teeth and nails, uttering
frightful and hideous howlings; and so true is this, that where there
is a question of marriage on foot, inquiry is made to ascertain that
there is no touch of this complaint in the family; and if on good
authority they discover it even afterwards, the marriage may be
dissolved.
"Pliny also tells us, in Book viii. chap. 22, that among the Arcadians
there is a kind of people who, in passing a certain lake, hang their
garments upon an ilex, and go naked into the inland country, where they
join with others they find there of their own lineage, in the form of
wolves, and are with them for nine years, at the end of which they
return and pass the lake, and recover their lost figure. But all this
is probably fiction and lies; and if there is anything in it, it is in
the imagination, and not real." (Note 4).
"I do not know," said Rutilio, "as to that; all I know is that I killed
the she-wolf, and found dead at my feet, the sorceress."
"This might very well be," replied Maurice; "for the power of the
enchantments of those accursed witches is such, that they can make us
see one thing for another; and I am perfectly satisfied that there are
no people whatever who change their own first form for any other."
"I have a great desire," said Arnoldo, "to know the truth of this; for
I too have always been one of those who believed these things; and I
should like also to know if it is a fable what is said of King Arthur
of England (Note 5) having been changed into a crow, a thing so much
believed by that wise nation that no one will kill a crow throughout
the island."
"I know not," answered Maurice, "whence arose this saying, so generally
believed, and so ill imagined."
In such discourse the night passed away. The day dawned brightly, the
sea continued calm, the wind fair. Constance, the fair barbarian,
observed that all was fair and prosperous; but that the dreams of the
worthy Maurice had so disturbed her, she really thought the vessel was
about to go down with them all at once.
"Truly, lady," answered he, "if I was not a good Catholic, and did not
remember that which is said in Leviticus, 'Be ye not diviners, nor give
belief to dreams, because it is not given to all to understand them,' I
should venture to try and explain the dream which put me in so great
a fright: according to my way of thinking, it did not come from any of
the causes that dreams are usually occasioned by. For when they are not
divine revelations, or illusions of the evil one, they proceed either
from over eating, which ofttimes disturbs the brain, or owing to what
has chiefly occupied one in the day-time. The dream which disturbed me,
did not belong to astrological observation; because, without observing
the stars, taking observations, marking the points of the compass, or
seeing figures, it appeared to me that I could visibly see that we
all were in a large wooden palace, that rays came down from heaven,
which opened, and through the openings, the clouds discharged not one,
but a thousand oceans of water; so that, believing I was going to be
overwhelmed, I cried out, making such gestures as persons naturally
make when about to sink among the waters. And I confess, I cannot yet
shake off the terror I felt then; and as I know there is no astrology
so certain as prudence, from which the clearest deductions spring, it
may be, that sailing in a ship built of wood, I fear rays from heaven,
clouds of the sky, and waves of the sea. But that which most confounds
and perplexes me, is the knowledge that if a danger threatens us it
will not proceed from the elements, but from the forge of treachery
lurking in some wicked breast."
"I cannot believe it," said Arnoldo, "of any that are now sailing in
this ship; the blandishments of Venus, or the lures of her false son,
cannot enter here. To the honourable and chaste, the greater the peril
and fear of death, the stronger is the incentive to keep to a virtuous
life, and shun all dishonest deeds."
This Arnoldo said, that Periander and Auristella might understand, and
all the rest who were aware of his love for her, that he meant fully to
let all his actions be directed by virtue and honour; and he went on to
say, "A good prince lives securely amongst his vassals; treasons spring
from the fear of injustice."
"That is true," said Maurice, "and it is right it should be so; but let
this day pass, and if the night arrives without any alarms, I will give
a reward for the good tidings."
The sun sank to rest in the arms of Thetis; the sea was as calm as
before; the wind was fair and steady, not a cloud was to be seen that
could alarm a mariner. The skies, the sea, the wind, all promised a
prosperous voyage; when Maurice cried aloud, in a voice of terror,
"Without a doubt, we are sinking; we sink, without a doubt."
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