The Decameron of Giovanni Boccaccio
his way back to his inn, where he found his comrades and the host, who
had been in concern for him all that night. He told them what had
betided him and themseemed, by the host's counsel, that he were best
depart Naples incontinent. Accordingly, he set out forthright and
returned to Perugia, having invested his money in a ring, whereas he
came to buy horses."
THE SIXTH STORY
[Day the Second]
MADAM BERITOLA, HAVING LOST HER TWO SONS, IS FOUND ON A
DESERT ISLAND WITH TWO KIDS AND GOETH THENCE INTO LUNIGIANA,
WHERE ONE OF HER SONS, TAKING SERVICE WITH THE LORD OF THE
COUNTRY, LIETH WITH HIS DAUGHTER AND IS CAST INTO PRISON.
SICILY AFTER REBELLING AGAINST KING CHARLES AND THE YOUTH
BEING RECOGNIZED BY HIS MOTHER, HE ESPOUSETH HIS LORD'S
DAUGHTER, AND HIS BROTHER BEING LIKEWISE FOUND, THEY ARE ALL
THREE RESTORED TO HIGH ESTATE
Ladies and young men alike laughed heartily at Andreuccio's
adventures, as related by Fiammetta, and Emilia, seeing the story
ended, began, by the queen's commandment, to speak thus: "Grievous
things and woeful are the various shifts of Fortune, whereof,--for
that, whenassoever it is discoursed of them, it is an awakenment for
our minds, which lightly fall asleep under her blandishments,--methinketh
it should never be irksome either to the happy or the unhappy to hear
tell, inasmuch as it rendereth the former wary and consoleth the
latter. Wherefore, albeit great things have already been recounted
upon this subject, I purpose to tell you thereanent a story no less
true than pitiful, whereof, for all it had a joyful ending, so great
and so longsome was the bitterness that I can scarce believe it to
have been assuaged by any subsequent gladness.
You must know, dearest ladies, that, after the death of the Emperor
Frederick the Second, Manfred was crowned King of Sicily, in very high
estate with whom was a gentleman of Naples called Arrighetto Capece,
who had to wife a fair and noble lady, also of Naples, by name Madam
Beritola Caracciola. The said Arrighetto, who had the governance of
the island in his hands, hearing that King Charles the First[102] had
overcome and slain Manfred at Benevento and that all the realm had
revolted to him and having scant assurance of the short-lived fidelity
of the Sicilians, prepared for flight, misliking to become a subject
of his lord's enemy; but, his intent being known of the Sicilians, he
and many other friends and servants of King Manfred were suddenly made
prisoners and delivered to King Charles, together with possession of
the island.
[Footnote 102: Charles d'Anjou.]
Madam Beritola, in this grievous change of affairs, knowing not what
was come of Arrighetto and sore adread of that which had befallen,
abandoned all her possessions for fear of shame and poor and pregnant
as she was, embarked, with a son of hers and maybe eight years of age,
Giusfredi by name, in a little boat and fled to Lipari, where she gave
birth to another male child, whom she named Scacciato,[103] and
getting her a nurse, took ship with all three to return to her
kinsfolk at Naples. But it befell otherwise than as she purposed; for
that the ship, which should have gone to Naples, was carried by stress
of wind to the island of Ponza,[104] where they entered a little bight
of the sea and there awaited an occasion for continuing their voyage.
Madam Beritola, going up, like the rest, into the island and finding a
remote and solitary place, addressed herself to make moan for her
Arrighetto, all alone there.
[Footnote 103: _i.e._ the Banished or the Expelled One.]
[Footnote 104: An island in the Gulf of Gaeta, about 70 miles from
Naples. It is now inhabited, but appears in Boccaccio's time to have
been desert.]
This being her daily usance, it chanced one day that, as she was
occupied in bewailing herself, there came up a pirate galley,
unobserved of any, sailor or other, and taking them all at unawares,
made off with her prize. Madam Beritola, having made an end of her
diurnal lamentation, returned to the sea-shore, as she was used to do,
to visit her children, but found none there; whereat she first
marvelled and after, suddenly misdoubting her of that which had
happened, cast her eyes out to sea and saw the galley at no great
distance, towing the little ship after it; whereby she knew but too
well that she had lost her children, as well as her husband, and
seeing herself there poor and desolate and forsaken, unknowing where
she should ever again find any of them, she fell down aswoon upon the
strand, calling upon her husband and her children. There was none
there to recall her distracted spirits with cold water or other
remedy, wherefore they might at their leisure go wandering whither it
pleased them; but, after awhile, the lost senses returning to her
wretched body, in company with tears and lamentations, she called long
upon her children and went a great while seeking them in every cavern.
At last, finding all her labour in vain and seeing the night coming
on, she began, hoping and knowing not what, to be careful for herself
and departing the sea-shore, returned to the cavern where she was wont
to weep and bemoan herself.
She passed the night in great fear and inexpressible dolour and the
new day being come and the hour of tierce past, she was fain,
constrained by hunger, for that she had not supped overnight, to
browse upon herbs; and having fed as best she might, she gave herself,
weeping, to various thoughts of her future life. Pondering thus, she
saw a she-goat enter a cavern hard by and presently issue thence and
betake herself into the wood; whereupon she arose and entering whereas
the goat had come forth, found there two little kidlings, born belike
that same day, which seemed to her the quaintest and prettiest things
in the world. Her milk being yet undried from her recent delivery, she
tenderly took up the kids and set them to her breast. They refused not
the service, but sucked her as if she had been their dam and
thenceforth made no distinction between the one and the other.
Wherefore, herseeming she had found some company in that desert place,
and growing no less familiar with the old goat than with her little
ones, she resigned herself to live and die there and abode eating of
herbs and drinking water and weeping as often as she remembered her of
her husband and children and of her past life.
The gentle lady, thus grown a wild creature, abiding on this wise, it
befell, after some months, that there came on like wise to the place
whither she had aforetime been driven by stress of weather, a little
vessel from Pisa and there abode some days. On broad this bark was a
gentleman named Currado [of the family] of the Marquises of Malespina,
who, with his wife, a lady of worth and piety, was on his return home
from a pilgrimage to all the holy places that be in the kingdom of
Apulia. To pass away the time, Currado set out one day, with his lady
and certain of his servants and his dogs, to go about the island, and
not far from Madam Beritola's place of harbourage, the dogs started
the two kids, which were now grown pretty big, as they went grazing.
The latter, chased by the dogs, fled to no other place but into the
cavern where was Madam Beritola, who, seeing this, started to her feet
and catching up a staff, beat off the dogs. Currado and his wife, who
came after them, seeing the lady, who was grown swart and lean and
hairy, marvelled, and she yet more at them. But after Currado had, at
her instance, called off his dogs, they prevailed with her, by dint of
much entreaty, to tell them who she was and what she did there;
whereupon she fully discovered to them her whole condition and all
that had befallen her, together with her firm resolution [to abide
alone in the island].
Currado, who had know Arrighetto Capece very well, hearing this, wept
for pity, and did his utmost to divert her with words from so
barbarous a purpose, offering to carry her back to her own house or to
keep her with himself, holding her in such honour as his sister, until
God should send her happier fortune. The lady not yielding to these
proffers, Currado left his wife with her, bidding the latter cause
bring thither to eat and clothe the lady, who was all in rags, with
some of her own apparel, and charging her contrive, by whatsoever
means, to bring her away with her. Accordingly, the gentle lady, being
left with Madam Beritola, after condoling with her amain of her
misfortunes, sent for raiment and victual and prevailed on her, with
all the pains in the world, to don the one and eat the other.
Ultimately, after many prayers, Madam Beritola protesting that she
would never consent to go whereas she might be known, she persuaded
her to go with her into Lunigiana, together with the two kids and
their dam, which latter were meantime returned and had greeted her
with the utmost fondness, to the no small wonderment of the
gentlewoman. Accordingly, as soon as fair weather was come, Madam
Beritola embarked with Currado and his lady in their vessel, carrying
with her the two kids and the she-goat (on whose account, her name
being everywhere unknown, she was styled Cavriuola[105]) and setting
sail with a fair wind, came speedily to the mouth of the Magra,[106]
where they landed and went up to Currado's castle. There Madam
Beritola abode, in a widow's habit, about the person of Currado's
lady, as one of her waiting-women, humble, modest and obedient, still
cherishing her kids and letting nourish them.
[Footnote 105: _i.e._ wild she-goat.]
[Footnote 106: A river falling into the Gulf of Genoa between Carrara
and Spezzia.]
Meanwhile, the corsairs, who had taken the ship wherein Madam Beritola
came to Ponza, but had left herself, as being unseen of them, betook
themselves with all the other folk to Genoa, where, the booty coming
to be shared among the owners of the galley, it chanced that the nurse
and the two children fell, amongst other things, to the lot of a
certain Messer Guasparrino d'Oria,[107] who sent them all three to his
mansion, to be there employed as slaves about the service of the
house. The nurse, afflicted beyond measure at the loss of her mistress
and at the wretched condition where into she found herself and the two
children fallen, wept long and sore; but, for that, albeit a poor
woman, she was discreet and well-advised, when she saw that tears
availed nothing and that she was become a slave together with them,
she first comforted herself as best she might and after, considering
whither they were come, she bethought herself that, should the two
children be known, they might lightly chance to suffer hindrance;
wherefore, hoping withal that, sooner or later fortune might change
and they, an they lived, regain their lost estate, she resolved to
discover to no one who they were, until she should see occasion
therefor, and told all who asked her thereof that they were her sons.
The elder she named, not Giusfredi, but Giannotto di Procida (the name
of the younger she cared not to change), and explained to him, with
the utmost diligence, why she had changed his name, showing him in
what peril he might be, an he were known. This she set out to him not
once, but many and many a time, and the boy, who was quick of wit,
punctually obeyed the enjoinment of his discreet nurse.
[Footnote 107: More familiar to modern ears as Doria.]
Accordingly, the two boys and their nurse abode patiently in Messer
Guasparrino's house several years, ill-clad and worse shod and
employed about the meanest offices. But Giannotto, who was now sixteen
years of age, and had more spirit than pertained to a slave, scorning
the baseness of a menial condition, embarked on board certain galleys