The Decameron of Giovanni Boccaccio
person, to have an occasion of returning to Athens; wherefore, with
the duke's leave, committing his whole power to Manuel, he returned to
Athens to his sister, and there, after some days, putting her upon
talk of the affront which herseemed she suffered from the duke by
reason of the lady whom he entertained, he told her that, an it liked
her, he would soon ease her thereof by causing take the lady from
whereas she was and carry her off. The duchess, conceiving that he did
this of regard for herself and not for love of the lady, answered that
it liked her exceeding well so but it might be done on such wise that
the duke should never know that she had been party thereto, which
Constantine fully promised her, and thereupon she consented that he
should do as seemed best to him.
Constantine, accordingly, let secretly equip a light vessel and sent
it one evening to the neighbourhood of the garden where the lady
abode; then, having taught certain of his men who were on board what
they had to do, he repaired with others to the lady's pavilion, where
he was cheerfully received by those in her service and indeed by the
lady herself, who, at his instance, betook herself with him to the
garden, attended by her servitors and his companions. There, making as
he would speak with her on the duke's part, he went with her alone
towards a gate, which gave upon the sea and had already been opened by
one of his men, and calling the bark thither with the given signal, he
caused suddenly seize the lady and carry her aboard; then, turning to
her people, he said to them, 'Let none stir or utter a word, an he
would not die; for that I purpose not to rob the duke of his wench,
but to do away the affront which he putteth upon my sister.'
To this none dared make answer; whereupon Constantine, embarking with
his people and seating himself by the side of the weeping lady, bade
thrust the oars into the water and make off. Accordingly, they put out
to sea and not hieing, but flying,[118] came, after a little after
daybreak on the morrow, to Egina, where they landed and took rest,
whilst Constantine solaced himself awhile with the lady, who bemoaned
her ill-fated beauty. Thence, going aboard the bark again, they made
their way, in a few days, to Chios, where it pleased Constantine to
take up his sojourn, as in a place of safety, for fear of his father's
resentment and lest the stolen lady should be taken from him. There
the fair lady bewailed her ill fate some days, but, being presently
comforted by Constantine, she began, as she had done otherwhiles, to
take her pleasure of that which fortune had foreordained to her.
[Footnote 118: _Non vogando, ma volando._]
Things being at this pass, Osbech, King of the Turks, who abode in
continual war with the Emperor, came by chance to Smyrna, where
hearing how Constantine abode in Chios, without any precaution,
leading a wanton life with a mistress of his, whom he had stolen away,
he repaired thither one night with some light-armed ships and entering
the city by stealth with some of his people, took many in their beds,
ere they knew of the enemy's coming. Some, who, taking the alert, had
run to arms, he slew and having burnt the whole place, carried the
booty and captives on board the ships and returned to Smyrna. When
they arrived there, Osbech, who was a young man, passing his prisoners
in review, found the fair lady among them and knowing her for her who
had been taken with Constantine asleep in bed, was mightily rejoiced
at sight of her. Accordingly, he made her his wife without delay, and
celebrating the nuptials forthright, lay with her some months in all
joyance.
Meanwhile, the Emperor, who had, before these things came to pass,
been in treaty with Bassano, King of Cappadocia, to the end that he
should come down upon Osbech from one side with his power, whilst
himself assailed him on the other, but had not yet been able to come
to a full accord with him, for that he was unwilling to grant certain
things which Bassano demanded and which he deemed unreasonable,
hearing what had betided his son and chagrined beyond measure thereat,
without hesitating farther, did that which the King of Cappadocia
asked and pressed him as most he might to fall upon Osbech, whilst
himself made ready to come down upon him from another quarter. Osbech,
hearing this, assembled his army, ere he should be straitened between
two such puissant princes, and marched against Bassano, leaving his
fair lady at Smyrna, in charge of a trusty servant and friend of his.
After some time he encountered the King of Cappadocia and giving him
battle, was slain in the mellay and his army discomfited and
dispersed; whereupon Bassano advanced in triumph towards Smyrna,
unopposed, and all the folk submitted to him by the way, as to a
conqueror.
Meanwhile, Osbech's servant, Antiochus by name, in whose charge the
lady had been left, seeing her so fair, forgot his plighted faith to
his friend and master and became enamoured of her, for all he was a
man in years. Urged by love and knowing her tongue (the which was
mighty agreeable to her, as well as it might be to one whom it had
behoved for some years live as she were deaf and dumb, for that she
understood none neither was understanded of any) he began, in a few
days, to be so familiar with her that, ere long, having no regard to
their lord and master who was absent in the field, they passed from
friendly commerce to amorous privacy, taking marvellous pleasure one
of the other between the sheets. When they heard that Osbech was
defeated and slain and that Bassano came carrying all before him, they
took counsel together not to await him there and laying hands on great
part of the things of most price that were there pertaining to Osbech,
gat them privily to Rhodes, where they had not long abidden ere
Antiochus sickened unto death.
As chance would have it, there was then in lodging with him a merchant
of Cyprus, who was much loved of him and his fast friend, and
Antiochus, feeling himself draw to his end, bethought himself to leave
him both his possessions and his beloved lady; wherefore, being now
nigh upon death, he called them both to him and bespoke them thus, 'I
feel myself, without a doubt, passing away, which grieveth me, for
that never had I such delight in life as I presently have. Of one
thing, indeed, I die most content, in that, since I must e'en die, I
see myself die in the arms of those twain whom I love over all others
that be in the world, to wit, in thine, dearest friend, and in those
of this lady, whom I have loved more than mine own self, since first I
knew her. True, it grieveth me to feel that, when I am dead, she will
abide here a stranger, without aid or counsel; and it were yet more
grievous to me, did I not know thee here, who wilt, I trust, have that
same care of her, for the love of me, which thou wouldst have had of
myself. Wherefore, I entreat thee, as most I may, if it come to pass
that I die, that thou take my goods and her into thy charge and do
with them and her that which thou deemest may be for the solacement of
my soul. And thou, dearest lady, I prithee forget me not after my
death, so I may vaunt me, in the other world, of being beloved here
below of the fairest lady ever nature formed; of which two things an
you will give me entire assurance, I shall depart without misgiving
and comforted.'
The merchant his friend and the lady, hearing these words, wept, and
when he had made an end of his speech, they comforted him and promised
him upon their troth to do that which he asked, if it came to pass
that he died. He tarried not long, but presently departed this life
and was honourably interred of them. A few days after, the merchant
having despatched all his business in Rhodes and purposing to return
to Cyprus on board a Catalan carrack that was there, asked the fair
lady what she had a mind to do, for that it behoved him return to
Cyprus. She answered that, an it pleased him, she would gladly go with
him, hoping for Antiochus his love to be of him entreated and regarded
as a sister. The merchant replied that he was content to do her every
pleasure, and the better to defend her from any affront that might be
offered her, ere they came to Cyprus, he avouched that she was his
wife. Accordingly, they embarked on board the ship and were given a
little cabin on the poop, where, that the fact might not belie his
words, he lay with her in one very small bed. Whereby there came about
that which was not intended of the one or the other of them at
departing Rhodes, to wit, that--darkness and commodity and the heat of
the bed, matters of no small potency, inciting them,--drawn by equal
appetite and forgetting both the friendship and the love of Antiochus
dead, they fell to dallying with each other and before they reached
Baffa, whence the Cypriot came, they had clapped up an alliance
together.
At Baffa she abode some time with the merchant till, as chance would
have it, there came thither, for his occasions, a gentleman by name
Antigonus, great of years and greater yet of wit, but little of
wealth, for that, intermeddling in the affairs of the King of Cyprus,
fortune had in many things been contrary to him. Chancing one day to
pass by the house where the fair lady dwelt with the merchant, who was
then gone with his merchandise into Armenia, he espied her at a window
and seeing her very beautiful, fell to gazing fixedly upon her and
presently began to recollect that he must have seen her otherwhere,
but where he could on no wise call to mind. As for the lady, who had
long been the sport of fortune, but the term of whose ills was now
drawing near, she no sooner set eyes on Antigonus than she remembered
to have seen him at Alexandria in no mean station in her father's
service; wherefore, conceiving a sudden hope of yet by his aid
regaining her royal estate, and knowing her merchant to be abroad, she
let call him to her as quickliest she might and asked him, blushing,
an he were not, as she supposed, Antigonus of Famagosta. He answered
that he was and added, 'Madam, meseemeth I know you, but on no wise
can I remember me where I have seen you; wherefore I pray you, an it
mislike you not, put me in mind who you are.'
The lady hearing that it was indeed he, to his great amazement, cast
her arms about his neck, weeping sore, and presently asked him if he
had never seen her in Alexandria. Antigonus, hearing this, incontinent
knew her for the Soldan's daughter Alatiel, who was thought to have
perished at sea, and would fain have paid her the homage due to her
quality; but she would on no wise suffer it and besought him to sit
with her awhile. Accordingly, seating himself beside her, he asked her
respectfully how and when and whence she came thither, seeing that it
was had for certain, through all the land of Egypt, that she had been
drowned at sea years agone. 'Would God,' replied she, 'it had been so,
rather than that I should have had the life I have had; and I doubt
not but my father would wish the like, if ever he came to know it.'
So saying, she fell anew to weeping wonder-sore; whereupon quoth
Antigonus to her, 'Madam, despair not ere it behove you; but, an it
please you, relate to me your adventures and what manner of life yours
hath been; it may be the matter hath gone on such wise that, with
God's aid, we may avail to find an effectual remedy.' 'Antigonus,'
answered the fair lady, 'when I beheld thee, meseemed I saw my father,
and moved by that love and tenderness, which I am bounden to bear him,
I discovered myself to thee, having it in my power to conceal myself
from thee, and few persons could it have befallen me to look upon in
whom I could have been so well-pleased as I am to have seen and known