=Ancilotto, King of Provino, takes to wife the daughter of a baker,
and has by her three children. These, after much persecution at
the hands of the king’s mother, are made known to their father
through the strange working of certain water, and of an apple, and
of a bird.=
I have always understood, lovesome and gracious ladies, that man is the
noblest and most capable of the living creatures fashioned by nature,
seeing that God made him in His own image and similitude, and willed
that he should rule and not be ruled. And on this account it is said
that man is the perfect animal, and of greater excellence than any of
the others, because all these, not even excepting woman, are subject to
him. Therefore, those who by deceit and cunning compass the death of so
noble a creature commit a foul crime. And there is no wonder if
sometimes those who work for the bane of others run heedlessly into
destruction themselves, as did four women I have to tell of, who, in
trying to destroy others, were themselves cut off and made a wretched
end. All this you will readily understand from the fable I purpose to
tell you.
In Provino, a very famous and royal city, there lived in ancient times
three sisters, fair of person, gracious in manners, and courteous in
bearing, but of base lineage, being the daughters of a certain Messer
Rigo, a baker who baked bread for other folk in his oven. Of these one
was named Brunora, another Lionella, and another Chiaretta. It happened
one day when the three sisters were in their garden, and there taking
much delight, that Ancilotto the king, who was going to enjoy the
diversion of hunting with a great company, passed that way. Brunora, the
eldest sister, when she looked upon the fair and noble assemblage, said
to her sisters Lionella and Chiaretta, ‘If I had for my husband the
king’s majordomo, I flatter myself that I would quench the thirst of all
the court with one glass of wine.’ ‘And I,’ said Lionella, ‘flatter
myself that, if the king’s private chamberlain were my husband, I would
pledge myself to make enough linen from a spindle of my yarn to provide
shifts of the strongest and finest make for all the court.’ Then said
Chiaretta, ‘And I, if I had the king himself for my husband, I flatter
myself that I would give him three children at one birth, two sons and a
daughter. And each of these should have long hair braided below the
shoulders, and intermingled with threads of the finest gold, and a
golden necklace round the throat, and a star on the forehead of each.’
Now it chanced that these sayings were overheard by one of the
courtiers, who hastened to the king and told him of the young girls’
discourse, and the king, when he heard the tenour thereof, at once
commanded that they should be brought before him, and this done, he
examined them one by one as to what they had said in the garden.
Whereupon each one, with the most respectful words, told the king what
she had spoken, and he was much pleased thereat. So then and there he
wedded Brunora to the majordomo and Lionella to the chamberlain, while
he himself took Chiaretta to wife. There was no hunting that day, for
the whole company returned to the city, where the marriages were
celebrated with the greatest pomp. But the mother of Ancilotto was
greatly wroth at his marriage, for however fair Chiaretta might be in
face and figure, and graceful in her person, and sweet and modest in her
conversation, the queen-mother held it to be a slight to the royal
dignity that her daughter-in-law should be of vile and common descent,
nor could she endure it that the majordomo and the chamberlain should be
brothers-in-law of the king her son. These things kindled so hotly the
rage of the queen-mother against Chiaretta that she could scarce endure
her presence; nevertheless she hid her wrath so as not to offend her
son. In due time (by the good pleasure of Him who rules over all),
Chiaretta became with child, to the great joy of the king, whose fancy
at once busied itself with the prospect of the lovely progeny he had
been promised.
Just at the time when Chiaretta was expecting to be brought to bed,
Ancilotto was forced to make a journey to a distant country and to abide
there some days, and he directed that, during his absence, his mother
should see to the welfare of the queen and of the children who, he
hoped, would soon be born. The queen-mother, though she hated her
daughter-in-law, let not the king see this, and assured him that she
would take the greatest care of them all, while he might be away, and
before the king had been gone many days (as Chiaretta when she was a
virgin had pledged) three lovely children, two boys and a girl, were
born. Likewise their hair was braided below their shoulders, and they
bore golden chains on their necks and golden stars on their foreheads.
The queen-mother, whose hatred against Chiaretta burned as malignantly
as ever, no sooner cast her eyes upon the innocent children than she
determined to have them put away privily, so that no one might know they
had even been, and that Chiaretta might be disgraced in the sight of the
king. And besides this, Brunora and Lionella had grown to regard their
sister with violent hate and jealousy since she had become their
sovereign, and lost no chance to aggravate, by all sorts of cunning
wiles, the spite of the queen-mother against Chiaretta.
On the very same day that the queen was delivered, it chanced that there
were born in the stable-yard three black mongrel pups, two dogs and a
bitch, which, by some strange freak, had white stars on their foreheads
and bore round their necks traces of a gorget. This coming to the
knowledge of the two sisters, they took the pups away from the dam and
brought them to the queen-mother, and with humble salutations said to
her: ‘We know, madam, that your highness has little love for our sister,
and quite justly; for she is of humble stock, and it is not seemly that
your son and our king should have mated with such an one. Hence, knowing
the mind you have towards her, we have brought you here three mongrel
pups, which, as you will see, were born with a star on their foreheads,
and you can deal with them as you list.’ At these words the queen-mother
was much pleased, divining well their evil intent, and she contrived to
bring to her daughter-in-law, who as yet had not seen the children she
had borne, the three whelps, telling her at the same time they were her
own offspring. And for the better hiding of this trick the wicked old
woman bade the midwife to tell the same story to the queen. So when she
herself and the two sisters and the midwife returned to the chamber,
they presented to the queen the three mongrel whelps, saying, ‘See, O
queen, the fruit of your womb! Cherish it well, so that the king, when
he comes back, may rejoice in the fair gift you have made him.’ And with
these words the midwife put the mongrels by her side, consoling her and
telling her that such mischances as hers happened now and then to
persons of high estate.
These wicked women having carried out this barbarous work, it only
remained for them to contrive a cruel death for the three lovely
children of the queen. But God mercifully held them back from soiling
their hands with the blood of their kin. They made a box, which they
waxed within, and, having put the children therein, they closed it and
cast it into the river to be borne away by the stream. But God in His
justice would not allow these innocents to suffer. As the box floated
along it was espied by a certain miller named Marmiato, who haled it out
and opened it, and found within three smiling children. Seeing how fair
and graceful they were, he deemed them to be the children of some noble
lady who, to hide her shame, had committed this crime. Having taken home
the box he said to his wife, who was called Gordiana, ‘See here, wife,
what I have found in the river; it is a present for you.’ Gordiana
received the children joyfully, and brought them up as if they had been
her own, giving to one the name of Acquirino, to another Fluvio—as they
had been found in the river—and to the girl that of Serena.
Ancilotto, when he came back from his journey, was in high spirits, for
he fully expected to find on his return that Chiaretta had fulfilled her
pledge and given him the three fair children as she had promised; but
the issue was not what he hoped, for the cunning queen-mother, when she
saw her son drawing near, went to meet him, and told him that the wife
he prized so highly had given him, instead of three children, three
mongrel dogs. And having brought him into the chamber of the unfortunate
Chiaretta, she showed him the pups which were lying beside her. The
queen began to weep bitterly and to deny that the dogs were her
offspring, but her wicked sisters came and declared that everything the
old mother had said was the truth. The king when he heard this was
greatly disturbed, and fell to the ground grief-stricken. After he had
come to himself he could scarce believe such thing could be; but at last
he gave ear to his mother’s false tale. But Chiaretta’s dignity and
sweetness, and the patience with which she bore the insults of the
courtiers, won him over to spare her life, and to sentence her to be
kept in a cell under the place where the cooking pots and pans were
washed, and to be fed on the garbage which was swept off the dirty sink.
While the unhappy queen passed her life in this filthy wise, feeding
upon carrion, Gordiana, the wife of the miller Marmiato, gave birth to a
son who was christened Borghino and brought up with the three
foundlings. When Gordiana went to cut the hair of these there often fell
out of it many precious stones and great white pearls; so with these
riches Marmiato was able to give over the humble calling of a miller,
and to live with his wife and the four children a life of ease and
delicacy. But when the three foundlings had come to years of discretion
they learned by chance that they were not the children of Marmiato and
Gordiana, but had been found floating in a box on the river. As soon as
they knew this they became very unhappy, and resolved to go their way
and try their fortune elsewhere, much to the chagrin of their
foster-parents, who saw they would no longer enjoy the rich harvest of
jewels which was wont to fall from the children’s locks and starry
foreheads. The brothers and their sister having left Marmiato the miller
and Gordiana, they all wandered about for some days, and at last came by
chance to Provino, the city of Ancilotto their father, where they hired
a house and lived together, maintaining themselves by selling the jewels
which still fell out of their hair. One day the king, who was riding
into the country with some of his courtiers, chanced to pass the house
where the three were living, and they, as soon as they heard the king
was coming, ran down the steps and stood bareheaded to give him a
respectful salutation. They had never seen Ancilotto, so his face was
unknown to them. The king, whose eyes were as keen as a hawk’s, looked
at them steadily, and remarked that on their foreheads there was
something like a golden star, and immediately his heart was filled with
strong passion, and he felt that they might prove to be his children. He
stopped and said to them: ‘Who are you, and from whence do you come?’
And they answered humbly, ‘We are poor strangers who have come to dwell
in this your city.’ Then said Ancilotto, ‘I am greatly pleased; and what
are you called?’ Whereupon they replied that one was named Acquirino,
and the other Fluvio, and the sister, Serena. The king then bade them to
dinner with him next day; and the young people, though they were almost
overcome by his gracious invitation, did not venture to decline it. When
Ancilotto returned to the palace he said to his mother: ‘Madam, when I
was abroad to-day I came by chance upon two handsome youths and a lovely
maiden, who, as they had golden stars on their foreheads, must be I
think the children promised to me by Queen Chiaretta.’
The wicked old woman smiled at the king’s words, making believe they
were but fancy, but within she felt as if a dagger had smitten her
heart. Then she bade them summon the midwife who had been present at the
birth, and said to her in private, ‘Good gossip, do you not know that
the king’s children, so far from being dead as we hoped, are alive, and
are grown up as beautiful as the day?’ ‘How can this be?’ replied the
woman; ‘were they not drowned in the river? Who has told you this?’ The
queen-mother answered: ‘From what I gather from the words of the king I
am almost sure they are alive. We must be up and doing at once, for we
are in great danger.’ ‘Do not be alarmed, madam,’ said the midwife, ‘I
have in mind a plan by which we can now assuredly compass the
destruction of all the three.’
The midwife went out, and immediately found her way to the house of the
king’s children, and, finding Serena alone, she saluted her and talked
of many things. After she had held a long discourse with her, she said,
‘My daughter, I am curious to know if you have in your house any water
which can dance.’ Serena, somewhat surprised at this question, answered
that she had not any. ‘Ah, my daughter,’ said the gossip, ‘what delights
you would enjoy if you had some of it! and if you could bathe your face
in it you would become more beautiful even than you are now.’ Said the
girl, with her curiosity aroused, ‘And how can I get it?’ ‘Have you not
brothers?’ the gossip asked. ‘Send them to fetch it; they will easily
find it, for it is to be had not far from these parts.’ And with these
words she departed. After a little Acquirino and Fluvio came back, and
at once Serena began to beseech them that they would do their best, for
the love they bore her, to get for her some of the wonderful dancing
water; but they laughed at her request as a silly fancy, and refused to
go on a fool’s errand, seeing that no one could say where it was to be
found. However, persuaded at last by the petition of their sister, whom
they loved very dearly, they departed together to do her bidding, taking
with them a phial to hold the precious water. When they had gone several
miles they came to a fountain out of which a snow-white dove was
drinking, and they were amazed when the bird spoke to them these words:
‘What seek ye, young men?’ To this Fluvio answered, ‘We seek the
precious dancing water.’ ‘Wretched youths,’ said the dove, ‘who sends
you on such a quest as this?’ ‘We want it for our sister,’ said Fluvio.
‘Then you will surely meet your deaths,’ said the dove, ‘for the water
you are in search of is guarded by many fierce beasts and poisonous
dragons, who will certainly devour you; but if you must needs have some
of it, leave the task to me, for I will surely bring it back to you;’
and having taken the phial the dove flew away out of sight.
Acquirino and Fluvio awaited her return with the greatest anxiety, and
at last she came in sight, bearing the phial filled with the magic
water. They took it from her, and, having thanked her for the great
service she had rendered them, returned to their sister and gave her the
water, exhorting her never to impose such another task upon them,
because they had nearly met their deaths in attempting it. A short time
after this the king again met the two brothers and said to them: ‘Why
did you not come to dine with me after accepting my invitation?’
‘Gracious majesty,’ they answered with profound respect, ‘a pressing
errand called us away from home.’ Then said the king, ‘To-morrow I shall
expect to see you without fail.’ The youths having made their apology,
the king returned to the palace, where he met his mother and told her he
had once more seen the youths with the stars on their foreheads. Again
the queen-mother was greatly perplexed, and again she bade them summon
the midwife, to whom she secretly told all she had heard, and at the
same time begged her to find a way out of the danger. The gossip bade
her take courage, for she would so plan this time that they would be
seen no more. The midwife went again to seek Serena, whom she found
alone, and asked her whether she had got any of the dancing water. ‘I
have it,’ the girl replied, ‘but the winning of it nearly caused the
death of my brothers.’ ‘The water is fair enough,’ said the woman, ‘but
you ought to have likewise the singing apple. You never saw fruit so
fair to look upon, or listened to music so sweet as that which it
discourses.’ ‘But how shall I get it?’ said Serena; ‘for my brothers
will never go in search of it, seeing that in their last venture they
were more in peril of death than in hope of life.’ ‘But they won the
dancing water for you,’ said the woman, ‘and they are still alive; they
will get for you the singing apple just as harmlessly;’ and, having
spoken, she went her way.
Scarcely had the midwife gone when Acquirino and Fluvio came in, and
again Serena cried out to them: ‘Oh, my brothers! I hear now of another
wonder, more beautiful far than the dancing water. It is the singing
apple, and if I cannot have it I shall die of vexation.’ When Acquirino
and Fluvio heard these words they chid her sharply, affirming that for
her sake they were reluctant to brave again the risk of death. But she
did not cease her prayers, and she wept and sobbed so sorely that the
brothers, seeing that this new desire of hers came from her inmost soul,
again gave way and agreed to satisfy it at whatever risk. They mounted
and rode on till they came to an inn, and demanded of the host whether
he could let them know where was to be found the apple which sang so
sweetly. He told them he knew thereof, and warned them of the perils
which lay in the path of anyone bold enough to seek to pluck it. ‘It
grows,’ he said, ‘in the midst of a fair garden, and is watched day and
night by a poisonous beast which kills without fail all those who come
nigh to the tree.’ ‘What then would you counsel us to do?’ said the
youths; ‘for we are set upon plucking the apple at all cost.’ ‘If you
will carry out my behests,’ said the host, ‘you may pluck the apple
without fear of the poisonous beast or of death. You must take this
robe, which, as you see, is all covered with mirrors, and one of you
must put it on, and thus attired enter the garden, the door of which
will be found unfastened; but the other must bide without and be careful
not to let himself be seen. And the beast forthwith will make for the
one who enters, and, seeing an exact similitude of himself reflected by
the mirrors, will fall down to the ground, and then the adventurer may
go quickly up to the tree and pluck tenderly the singing apple and
without once looking behind him quit the garden.’ The young men thanked
their host courteously, and observed all his directions so faithfully
that they won the apple without mischance, and carried it back to
Serena, and again besought her no more to compel them to run into such
danger. Thus for a second time they failed to keep their engagement with
the king, who, meeting them again a few days afterwards, said: ‘For what
reason have you once more disobeyed my commands and failed to come and
dine with me?’ Fluvio answered as before that some weighty matters of
business had intervened and kept them from doing themselves the great
honour the king had proposed for them. Then said the king, ‘You must
come to-morrow, and see that you fail not.’ Acquirino promised
obedience, and the king returned to his palace, where he met his mother
and told her he had again seen the two youths, that he was more firmly
persuaded than ever that they must be the children promised him by
Chiaretta, and that he would feel no rest till they should have eaten at
his table. The queen-mother when she heard that they yet lived was in
sore terror, doubting not that her fraud had been discovered, and thus,
struck with grief and terror, she sent for the midwife and said to her:
‘I surely thought the children were dead by this time, and that we
should hear no more of them; but they are alive, and we stand in peril
of death. Look therefore to our affair; otherwise we shall be lost.’
‘Noble lady,’ said the midwife, ‘take heart. This time I will work their
bane without fail, and you will bless me therefor, seeing that they will
trouble you no longer;’ and the woman, full of rage at her failure,
again repaired to the house of Serena, where she found the girl alone.
With crafty speech she inquired of Serena whether she had indeed got the
singing apple, and the girl made answer that she had. Then said the
cunning woman: ‘Ah, my daughter, you must think that you have nothing at
all if you do not get one thing more, the most beautiful, the most
graceful thing in the world.’ ‘Good mother, what may this fair thing
be?’ said the girl. The old woman replied: ‘It is the beautiful green
bird, my child, which talks night and day, and speaks words of
marvellous wisdom. If you had it in your keeping you might indeed call
yourself happy;’ and, having thus spoken, she went her way.
Acquirino and Fluvio came in almost directly after she was gone, and
Serena forthwith began to beg them to do her one last favour, whereupon
they asked her what might be this boon which she desired. She answered
that she wanted the beautiful green bird. Fluvio, who had plucked the
apple guarded by the venomous beast, was still haunted by the peril of
his adventure, and refused to go in quest of the bird. Acquirino, though
for a long time he too turned a deaf ear, was finally moved by the
brotherly love he felt and by the hot tears of grief which Serena shed,
and determined to satisfy her wish. Fluvio also agreed to accompany him,
and, having mounted their horses, they rode for several days, until at
last they came into a flowery green meadow, in the midst of which stood
a lofty tree surrounded with marble statues which mocked life by their
marvellous workmanship. Through the meadow there ran a little stream,
and up in the tall tree lived the beautiful green bird, which hopped
about from bough to bough in lively fashion, uttering the while words
which seemed rather divine than human. The young men dismounted from
their palfreys, which they left to graze at will, and went close to the
marble statues to examine them; but, as soon as they touched these, they
themselves were turned into marble as they stood.
Now Serena, when for several months she had anxiously looked for the
return of her dear brothers Acquirino and Fluvio, began to despair and
to fear she would never see them more, and, overcome with grief at their
unhappy fate, she resolved to try her own fortune. So she mounted a
mettlesome horse, and rode on and on till she came to the fair meadow
where the green bird was hopping about on the tall tree and softly
talking. There the first things she saw were her brothers’ horses, which
were grazing on the turf, and, casting her eyes upon the statues, she
saw that two of them must be Acquirino and Fluvio, for the unhappy
youths, though turned into marble, retained their features exactly as in
life. Serena dismounted, and going softly up to the tree she laid hands
on the green bird from behind, and he, finding himself a prisoner,
besought her to let him go, and promised that at the right time and
place he would remember her. But Serena answered that first of all he
must restore her brothers to their former state, upon which the bird
replied: ‘Look then under my left wing, and there you will find a
feather much greener than any of the others and marked with yellow.
Pluck it out and touch with it the eyes of the statues, and then your
brothers will return to flesh and blood.’ Serena raised the wing and
found the feather, and did as the bird had directed, and the statues of
Acquirino and Fluvio at once became living men and embraced their sister
joyfully.
This wonder being accomplished, the bird again besought Serena to give
him his liberty, promising that if she would grant his prayer he would
come to her aid whenever she might call upon him; but Serena was not to
be thus cajoled, and declared that before she would let him go free he
must help them to find their father and mother, and that until he had
accomplished this task he must be her prisoner.
There had already arisen some dispute amongst the three as to who should
have the bird in keeping, but in the end they settled that it should be
left in charge of Serena, who tended it with great care and watched over
it. The affair having come to this happy issue, they mounted their
horses and rode home. Meantime Ancilotto had often passed by their
house, and finding it empty was much astonished, and inquired of the
neighbours what had become of them; but all he could learn was that
nothing had been seen of them for many days. They had not been back long
before the king again rode by, and, catching sight of them, asked how it
was that nothing had been seen of them for so long, and why they had
disregarded his commands so often. Acquirino answered with deep respect
that some amazing troubles and adventures had befallen them, and that if
they had not presented themselves at the palace before his majesty as he
had desired it was through no want of reverence. They were all anxious
to amend their conduct in the future.
The king, when he heard they had been in tribulation, was moved to pity,
and bade them all accompany him back to the palace to dinner; but before
they set forth Acquirino filled secretly a phial with the dancing water,
Fluvio took the singing apple, and Serena the talking bird, and they
rode back with the king and joyously entered the palace with him and sat
down at the royal table. It chanced that the queen-mother and also the
two sisters of Chiaretta marked them as they passed, and observing the
beauty of the maiden and the handsome bright-eyed youths, they were
filled with dread and suspicion as to who they might be. When the royal
banquet had come to an end, Acquirino said to the king: ‘May it please
your majesty that, before we take our leave, we should show your majesty
some marvels which may delight you;’ and with these words he poured into
a silver tazza some of the dancing water, while Fluvio put his hand into
his bosom and drew therefrom the singing apple, which he placed beside
the water. Serena also brought out the talking bird, and set it on the
table. Immediately the apple began to sing most sweetly, and the
wonderful water to dance, so that the king and all the courtiers were
delighted and laughed aloud with pleasure; but the queen-mother and the
wicked sisters were smitten with dire dismay, for they felt that their
doom was near.
At last, when the apple and the water had ceased to sing and dance, the
bird opened its mouth and said: ‘O sacred majesty! what doom should be
dealt to those who once plotted death against two brothers and a
sister?’ Then the cunning queen-mother, scheming to excuse herself,
cried out: ‘No lighter doom than death by burning;’ and in this
condemnation all those who were present agreed. To answer her the
singing apple and the dancing water said straightway: ‘Ah, false and
cruel woman! your own tongue has doomed yourself, and those wicked and
envious sisters of the queen, and the vile midwife, to this horrible
death.’
When the king heard these words his heart grew cold with terror; but
before he could speak the talking bird began and said: ‘O sacred
majesty! these are the three children you longed for, your children who
bear the star on their foreheads; and their innocent mother, is she not
to this day kept a prisoner under the filthy scullery?’ Then the king
saw clearly how he had been tricked, and gave order that the unhappy
Chiaretta should be taken out of her noisome prison and robed once more
in her royal garments, and, as soon as this had been done, she was
brought into the presence of the king and of his court. And though she
had for so long time suffered such cruel usage, she retained all her
former loveliness. Then the talking bird related the strange history
from beginning to end, and the king, when he knew it all, embraced
tenderly Chiaretta and their three children; but the dancing water and
the singing apple and the talking bird, having been set at liberty,
disappeared straightway.
The next day the king commanded to be lighted in the centre of the
market a huge fire, into which he caused to be thrown, without pity, his
mother and the two sisters of Chiaretta and the midwife, so that in the
presence of everybody they might be burnt to death. And Ancilotto lived
happily many years with his beloved wife and his beautiful children,
and, having chosen for Serena an honourable husband, he left his two
sons the heirs of his kingdom.
Lodovica’s story gave great delight to all the ladies, and the Signora,
having commanded her to supplement it in due order, she propounded the
following enigma:
When Sol pours down his fiercest heat,
High on Gheraldo’s lofty seat,
A wight I marked, with roguish eye,
Shut fast within a closure high.
All through the day he prates and talks,
And clad in robes of emerald walks.
I’ve told you all except his name,
And that from your own wit I claim.
Many were the interpretations put upon this enigma, but no one came near
to the mark save the charming Isabella, who, greatly pleased with
herself, said in a merry tone: “There is no other possible signification
of Lodovica’s enigma except to name the parroquet, which lives within a
cage, the closure, and has plumage green as emerald, and talks all day
long.” The clever solution of the riddle pleased everybody except
Lodovica, who had flattered herself that no one would be clever enough
to solve it, and who now became almost dumb with vexation. A little
later, when the flush of anger had faded somewhat from her cheek, she
turned to Isabella, whose turn it was to tell the fourth story, and
said: “I am vexed, Isabella, not from envy of you, as the teller of the
next story, but because I feel myself inferior to those other companions
of yours who have had to give the solution of their riddles, the company
not being able to solve them; whereas mine was guessed at once. Be
assured, however, that if I can give you a Roland for your Oliver, I
will not be caught napping.”[27] Isabella answered quickly, “You will do
well, Signora Lodovica, but—” Here the Signora, who saw that the
contention was like to grow warm between the two, commanded Isabella to
go on at once with her story, which, with a smile, she began to tell as
follows.
[Illustration: [Fleuron]]