The Decameron of Giovanni Boccaccio
cause of his exile and of his going wandering seven years about the
world cannot be denied. So that in whichever one of these three things
aforesaid you have committed a far greater sin than in your converse
with him.
But, let us see; maybe Tedaldo deserved this usage? Certes, he did
not; you yourself have already confessed it, more by token that I know
he loveth[187] you more than himself. No woman was ever so honoured,
so exalted, so magnified over every other of her sex as were you by
him, whenas he found himself where he might fairly speak of you,
without engendering suspicion. His every good, his every honour, his
every liberty were all committed by him into your hands. Was he not
noble and young? Was he not handsome among all his townsmen? Was he
not accomplished in such things as pertain unto young men? Was he not
loved, cherished and well seen of every one? You will not say nay to
this either. Then how, at the bidding of a scurvy, envious numskull of
a friar, could you take such a cruel resolve against him? I know not
what error is that of women who eschew men and hold them in little
esteem, whenas, considering what themselves are and what and how great
is the nobility, beyond every other animal, given of God to man, they
should rather glory whenas they are loved of any and prize him over
all and study with all diligence to please him, so he may never desist
from loving them. This how you did, moved by the prate of a friar,
who must for certain have been some broth-swilling pasty-gorger, you
yourself know; and most like he had a mind to put himself in the place
whence he studied to expel others.
[Footnote 187: _Sic_; but the past tense "loved" is probably intended,
as the pretended pilgrim had not yet discovered Tedaldo to be alive.]
This, then, is the sin that Divine justice, the which with a just
balance bringeth all its operations to effect, hath willed not to
leave unpunished; and even as you without reason studied to withdraw
yourself from Tedaldo, so on like wise hath your husband been and is
yet, without reason, in peril for Tedaldo, and you in tribulation.
Wherefrom an you would be delivered, that which it behoveth you to
promise, and yet more to do, is this; that, should it ever chance that
Tedaldo return hither from his long banishment, you will render him
again your favour, your love, your goodwill and your privacy and
reinstate him in that condition wherein he was, ere you foolishly
hearkened to yonder crack-brained friar.'
The pilgrim having thus made an end of his discourse, the lady, who
had hearkened thereto with the utmost attention, for that his
arguments appeared to her most true and that, hearing him say, she
accounted herself of a certainty afflicted for the sin of which he
spoke, said, 'Friend of God, I know full well that the things you
allege are true, and in great part by your showing do I perceive what
manner of folk are these friars, whom till now I have held all saints.
Moreover, I acknowledge my default without doubt to have been great in
that which I wrought against Tedaldo; and an I might, I would gladly
amend it on such wise as you have said; but how may this be done?
Tedaldo can never more return hither; he is dead; wherefore I know not
why it should behove me promise that which may not be performed.'
'Madam,' replied the pilgrim, 'according to that which God hath
revealed unto me, Tedaldo is nowise dead, but alive and well and in
good case, so but he had your favour.' Quoth the lady, 'Look what you
say; I saw him dead before my door of several knife-thrusts and had
him in these arms and bathed his dead face with many tears, the which
it may be gave occasion for that which hath been spoken thereof
unseemly.' 'Madam,' replied the pilgrim, 'whatever you may say, I
certify you that Tedaldo is alive, and if you will e'en promise me
that [which I ask,] with intent to fulfil your promise, I hope you
shall soon see him.' Quoth she, 'That do I promise and will gladly
perform; nor could aught betide that would afford me such content as
to see my husband free and unharmed and Tedaldo alive.'
Thereupon it seemed to Tedaldo time to discover himself and to comfort
the lady with more certain hope of her husband, and accordingly he
said, 'Madam, in order that I may comfort you for your husband, it
behoveth me reveal to you a secret, which look you discover not unto
any, as you value your life.' Now they were in a very retired place
and alone, the lady having conceived the utmost confidence of the
sanctity which herseemed was in the pilgrim; wherefore Tedaldo,
pulling out a ring, which she had given him the last night he had been
with her and which he had kept with the utmost diligence, and showing
it to her, said, 'Madam, know you this?' As soon as she saw it, she
recognized it and answered, 'Ay, sir; I gave it to Tedaldo aforetime.'
Whereupon the pilgrim, rising to his feet, hastily cast off his
palmer's gown and hat and speaking Florence-fashion, said, 'And know
you me?'
When the lady saw this, she knew him to be Tedaldo and was all aghast,
fearing him as one feareth the dead, an they be seen after death to go
as if alive; wherefore she made not towards him to welcome him as
Tedaldo returned from Cyprus, but would have fled from him in
affright, as he were Tedaldo come back from the tomb. Whereupon,
'Madam,' quoth he, 'fear not; I am your Tedaldo, alive and well, and
have never died nor been slain, whatsoever you and my brothers may
believe.' The lady, somewhat reassured and knowing his voice,
considered him awhile longer and avouched in herself that he was
certainly Tedaldo; wherefore she threw herself, weeping, on his neck
and kissed him, saying, 'Welcome back, sweet my Tedaldo.'
Tedaldo, having kissed and embraced her, said, 'Madam, it is no time
now for closer greetings; I must e'en go take order that Aldobrandino
may be restored to you safe and sound; whereof I hope that, ere
to-morrow come eventide, you shall hear news that will please you;
nay, if, as I expect, I have good news of his safety, I trust this
night to be able to come to you and report them to you at more leisure
than I can at this present.' Then, donning his gown and hat again, he
kissed the lady once more and bidding her be of good hope, took leave
of her and repaired whereas Aldobrandino lay in prison, occupied more
with fear of imminent death than with hopes of deliverance to come.
Tedaldo, with the gaoler's consent, went in to him, in the guise of a
ghostly comforter, and seating himself by his side, said to him,
'Aldobrandino, I am a friend of thine, sent thee for thy deliverance
by God, who hath taken pity on thee because of thine innocence;
wherefore, if, in reverence to Him, thou wilt grant me a little boon
that I shall ask of thee, thou shalt without fail, ere to-morrow be
night, whereas thou lookest for sentence of death, hear that of thine
acquittance.'
'Honest man,' replied the prisoner, 'since thou art solicitous of my
deliverance, albeit I know thee not nor mind me ever to have seen
thee, needs must thou be a friend, as thou sayst. In truth, the sin,
for which they say I am to be doomed to death, I never committed;
though others enough have I committed aforetime, which, it may be,
have brought me to this pass. But this I say to thee, of reverence to
God; an He presently have compassion on me, I will not only promise,
but gladly do any thing, however great, to say nothing of a little
one; wherefore ask that which pleaseth thee, for without fail, if it
come to pass that I escape with life, I will punctually perform it.'
Then said the pilgrim, 'What I would have of thee is that thou pardon
Tedaldo's four brothers the having brought thee to this pass,
believing thee guilty of their brother's death, and have them again
for brethren and for friends, whenas they crave thee pardon thereof.'
Whereto quoth Aldobrandino, 'None knoweth but he who hath suffered the
affront how sweet a thing is vengeance and with what ardour it is
desired; nevertheless, so God may apply Himself to my deliverance, I
will freely pardon them; nay, I pardon them now, and if I come off
hence alive and escape, I will in this hold such course as shall be
to thy liking.'
This pleased the pilgrim and without concerning himself to say more to
him, he exhorted him to be of good heart, for that, ere the ensuing
day came to an end, he should without fail hear very certain news of
his safety. Then, taking leave of him, he repaired to the Seignory and
said privily to a gentleman who was in session there, 'My lord, every
one should gladly labour to bring to light the truth of things, and
especially those who hold such a room as this of yours, to the end
that those may not suffer the penalty who have not committed the crime
and that the guilty may be punished; that which may be brought about,
to your honour and the bane of those who have merited it, I am come
hither to you. As you know, you have rigorously proceeded against
Aldobrandino Palermini and thinking you have found for truth that it
was he who slew Tedaldo Elisei, are minded to condemn him; but this is
most certainly false, as I doubt not to show you, ere midnight betide,
by giving into your hands the murderers of the young man in question.'
The worthy gentleman, who was in concern for Aldobrandino, willingly
gave ear to the pilgrim's words and having conferred at large with him
upon the matter, on his information, took the two innkeeper brothers
and their servant, without resistance, in their first sleep. He would
have put them to the question, to discover how the case stood; but
they brooked it not and each first for himself, and after all
together, openly confessed that it was they who had slain Tedaldo
Elisei, knowing him not. Being questioned of the case, they said [that
it was] for that he had given the wife of one of them sore annoy, what
while they were abroad, and would fain have enforced her to do his
will.
The pilgrim, having heard this, with the magistrate's consent took his
leave and repairing privily to the house of Madam Ermellina, found her
alone and awaiting him, (all else in the house being gone to sleep,)
alike desirous of having good news of her husband and of fully
reconciling herself with her Tedaldo. He accosted her with a joyful
countenance and said, 'Dearest lady mine, be of good cheer, for
to-morrow thou shalt certainly have thine Aldobrandino here again safe
and sound'; and to give her more entire assurance thereof, he fully
recounted to her that which he had done. Whereupon she, glad as ever
woman was of two so sudden and so happy chances, to wit, the having
her lover alive again, whom she verily believed to have bewept dead,
and the seeing Aldobrandino free from peril, whose death she looked
ere many days to have to mourn, affectionately embraced and kissed
Tedaldo; then, getting them to bed together, with one accord they made
a glad and gracious peace, taking delight and joyance one of the
other. Whenas the day drew near, Tedaldo arose, after showing the lady
that which he purposed to do and praying her anew to keep it a close
secret, and went forth, even in his pilgrim's habit, to attend, whenas
it should be time, to Aldobrandino's affairs. The day come, it
appearing to the Seignory that they had full information of the
matter, they straightway discharged Aldobrandino and a few days after
let strike off the murderers' heads whereas they had committed the
crime.
Aldobrandino being now, to the great joy of himself and his wife and
of all his friends and kinsfolk, free and manifestly acknowledging
that he owed his deliverance to the good offices of the pilgrim,
carried the latter to his house for such time as it pleased him to
sojourn in the city; and there they could not sate themselves of doing