, rubato, capita a e è albergato da una vedova; e, de’ suo’ danni ristorato, sano e salvo si torna a casa sua.
[Author]Degli accidenti di da raccontati senza modo risero le donne, e massimamente tra’ giovani ; al quale, per ciò che appresso di sedea, comandò la reina che novellando la seguitasse. Il quale senza indugio alcuno incominciò:
[Filostrato]Belle donne, a raccontarsi mi tira una novella di cose catoliche e di sciagure e d’amore in parte mescolata, la quale per avventura non fia altro che utile avere udita; e spezialmente a coloro li quali per li dubbiosi paesi d’amore sono caminanti, ne’ quali chi non ha detto il paternostro di san Giuliano spesse volte, ancora che abbia buon letto, alberga male.
Era adunque, al tempo del , un mercatante chiamato per sue bisogne venuto a ; le quali avendo fornite e a casa tornandosi, avvenne che, uscito di e cavalcando verso , s’abbatté in alcuni li quali mercatanti parevano, e erano masnadieri e uomini di malvagia vita e condizione, con li quali ragionando incautamente s’accompagnò. Costoro, veggendol mercatante e stimando lui dovere portar denari, seco diliberarono che, come prima tempo si vedessero, di rubarlo: e per ciò, acciò che egli niuna suspeccion prendesse, come uomini modesti e di buona condizione pure d’oneste cose e di lealtà andavano con lui favellando, rendendosi in ciò che potevano e sapevano umili e benigni verso di lui: per che egli gli avergli trovati si reputava in gran ventura, per ciò che solo era con un suo fante a cavallo.
E cosí camminando, d’una cosa in altra, come ne’ ragionamenti addivien, trapassando, caddero in sul ragionare delle orazioni che gli uomini fanno a Dio; e l’uno de’ masnadieri, che eran tre, disse verso : E voi, gentile uomo, che orazione usate di dir camminando?
Al quale rispose: Nel vero io sono uomo di queste cose materiale e rozzo, e poche orazioni ho per le mani, sí come colui che mi vivo all’antica e lascio correr due soldi per ventiquatro denari; ma nondimeno ho sempre avuto in costume, camminando, di dir la mattina, quando esco dell’albergo, un paternostro e una avemaria per l’anima del padre e della madre di san Giuliano, dopo il quale io priego Idio e lui che la seguente notte mi deano buono albergo. E assai volte già de’ miei dí sono stato, camminando, in gran pericoli, de’ quali tutti scampato pur sono la notte poi stato in buon luogo e bene albergato: per che io porto ferma credenza che san Giuliano, a cui onore io il dico, m’abbia questa grazia impetrata da Dio; né mi parrebbe il dí bene potere andare né dovere la notte vegnente bene arrivare, che io non l’avessi la mattina detto.
A cui colui, che domandato l’avea, disse: E istamane dicestel voi?
A cui rispose: Sí bene.
Allora quegli, che già sapeva come andar doveva il fatto, disse seco medesimo: Al bisogno ti fia venuto, ché, se fallito non ci viene, per mio avviso tu albergherai pur male; e poi gli disse: Io similmente ho già molto camminato e mai nol dissi, quantunque io l’abbia a molti molto udito già commendare, né giammai non m’avenne che io per ciò altro che bene albergassi; e questa sera per avventura ve ne potrete avvedere chi meglio albergherà, o voi che detto l’avete o io che non l’ho detto. Bene è il vero che io uso in luogo di quello il Dirupisti o la ‘Ntemerata o il Deprofundi, che sono, secondo che una mia avola mi solea dire, di grandissima virtú.
E cosí di varie cose parlando e al lor cammin procedendo e aspettando luogo e tempo al lor malvagio proponimento, avvenne che, essendo già tardi, di là dal , al valicar d’un questi tre, veggendo l’ora tarda e il luogo solitario e chiuso, assalitolo il rubarono, e, lui a piè e in camiscia lasciato, partendosi dissero: Va e sappi se il tuo san Giuliano questa notte ti darà buono albergo, ché il nostro il darà bene a noi; e valicato il fiume andaron via.
Il fante di veggendolo assalire, come cattivo, niuna cosa al suo aiuto adoperò, ma volto il cavallo sopra il quale era non si ritenne di correre sí fu a , e in quello, essendo già sera, entrato, senza darsi altro impaccio albergò.
, rimaso in camiscia e scalzo, essendo il freddo grande e nevicando tuttavia forte, non sappiendo che farsi, veggendo già sopravenuta la notte, tremando e battendo i denti, cominciò a riguardare se da torno alcuno ricetto si vedesse dove la notte potesse stare, che non si morisse di freddo; ma niun veggendone, per ciò che poco davanti essendo stata guerra nella contrada v’era ogni cosa arsa, sospinto dalla freddura, trottando si dirizzò verso , non sappiendo perciò che il suo fante là o altrove si fosse fuggito, pensando, se dentro entrar vi potesse, qualche soccorso gli manderebbe Idio. Ma la notte obscura il sopraprese di lungi dal presso a un miglio: per la qual cosa sí tardi vi giunse, che, essendo le porti serrate e i ponti levati, entrar non vi poté dentro. Laonde, dolente e isconsolato piagnendo, guardava dintorno dove porre si potesse, che almeno addosso non gli nevicasse: e per avventura vide una casa sopra le mura del sportata alquanto in fuori, sotto il quale sporto diliberò d’andarsi a stare infino al giorno. E là andatosene e sotto quello sporto trovato uno uscio, come che serrato fosse, a piè di quello ragunato alquanto di pagliericcio che vicin v’era, tristo e dolente si pose a stare, spesse volte dolendosi a san Giuliano, dicendo questo non essere della fede che aveva in lui. Ma san Giuliano, avendo a lui riguardo, senza troppo indugio gli apparecchiò buono albergo.
Egli era in questo una , del corpo bellissima quanto alcuna altra, la quale il amava quanto la vita sua e quivi a instanzia di sé la facea stare: e dimorava la predetta in quella casa, sotto lo sporto della quale s’era andato a dimorare. E era il dí dinanzi per avventura il marchese quivi venuto per doversi la notte giacere con essolei, e in casa di lei medesima tacitamente aveva fatto fare un bagno e nobilmente da cena. E essendo ogni cosa presta (e niuna altra cosa che la venuta del marchese era da lei aspettata) avvenne che un fante giunse alla porta, il quale recò novelle al marchese per le quali a lui subitamente cavalcar convenne: per la qual cosa, mandato a dire alla che non l’attendesse, prestamente andò via. Onde la , un poco sconsolata, non sappiendo che farsi, diliberò d’entrare nel bagno fatto per lo marchese e poi cenare e andarsi a letto; e cosí nel bagno se n’entrò.
Era questo bagno vicino all’uscio dove il meschino s’era accostato fuori della terra; per che, stando la nel bagno, sentí il pianto e ‘l triemito che faceva, il quale pareva diventato una cicogna: laonde, chiamata la sua , le disse: Va sú e guarda fuori del muro a piè di questo uscio chi v’è e chi egli è e quel ch’el vi fa. La andò e aiutandola la chiarità dell’aere vide costui in camiscia e scalzo quivi sedersi, come detto è, tremando forte; per che ella il domandò chi el fosse. E , sí forte tremando che appena poteva le parole formare, chi el fosse e come e perché quivi quanto piú brieve poté le disse: e poi pietosamente la cominciò a pregare che, se esser potesse, quivi non lo lasciasse di freddo la notte morire. La , divenutane pietosa, tornò alla e ogni cosa le disse. La qual similmente pietà avendone, ricordatasi che di quello uscio aveva la chiave, il quale alcuna volta serviva alle occulte entrate del marchese, disse: Va e pianamente gli apri; qui è questa cena e non saria chi mangiarla, e da poterlo albergar ci è assai.
La , di questa umanità avendo molto commendata la , andò e sí gli aperse; e dentro messolo, quasi assiderato veggendolo, gli disse la : Tosto, buono uomo, entra in quel bagno, il quale ancora è caldo.
E egli questo, senza piú inviti aspettare, di voglia fece: e tutto dalla caldezza di quello riconfortato da morte a vita gli parve esser tornato. La gli fece apprestare panni stati del marito di lei poco tempo davanti morto, li quali, come vestiti s’ebbe, a suo dosso fatti parevano; e aspettando quello che la gli comandasse incominciò a ringraziare Idio e san Giuliano che di sí malvagia notte, come egli aspettava, l’avevano liberato e a buono albergo, per quello che gli pareva, condotto. Appresso questo la , alquanto riposatasi, avendo fatto fare un grandissimo fuoco in una sua camminata, in quella se ne venne e del buono uomo domandò che ne fosse.
A cui la rispose: Madonna, egli s’è rivestito e è un bello uomo e pare persona molto da bene e costumato.
Va dunque, disse la e chiamalo e digli che qua se ne venga: al fuoco e si cenerà, ché so che cenato non ha.
nella camminata entrato, e veggendo la e da molto parendogli, reverentemente la salutò e quelle grazie le quali seppe maggiori del beneficio fattogli le rendé. La , vedutolo e uditolo e parendole quello che la dicea, lietamente il ricevette e seco al fuoco familiarmente il fé sedere e dello accidente che quivi condotto l’avea il domandò: alla quale per ordine ogni cosa narrò. Aveva la , nel venire del fante di nel , di questo alcuna cosa sentita, per che ella ciò che da lui era detta interamente credette, e sí gli disse ciò che del suo fante sapea e come leggiermente la mattina appresso ritrovare il potrebbe. Ma poi che la tavola fu messa, come la volle, con lei insieme, le mani lavatesi, si pose a cenare. Egli era grande della persona e bello e piacevole nel viso e di maniere assai laudevoli e graziose e giovane di mezza età; al quale la avendo piú volte posto l’occhio addosso e molto commendatolo, e già, per lo marchese che con lei doveva venire a giacersi, il concupiscibile appetito avendo desto nella mente ricevuto l’avea. Dopo la cena, da tavola levatasi, con la sua fante si consigliò se ben fatto le paresse che ella, poi che il marchese beffata l’avea, usasse quel bene che innanzi l’aveva la fortuna mandato.
La , conoscendo il disiderio della sua , quanto poté e seppe a seguirlo la confortò; per che la , al fuoco tornatasi dove solo lasciato aveva, cominciatolo amorosamente a guardare, gli disse: Deh, , perché state voi cosí pensoso? non credete voi potere essere ristorato d’un cavallo e d’alquanti panni che voi abbiate perduti? Confortatevi, state lietamente, voi siete in casa vostra. Anzi vi voglio dir piú avanti: che, veggendovi cotesti panni indosso, li quali del mio morto marito furono, parendomi voi pur desso, m’è venuta stasera forse cento volte voglia d’abracciarvi e di basciarvi: e, s’io non avessi temuto che dispiaciuto vi fosse, per certo io l’avrei fatto.
, queste parole udendo e il lampeggiar degli occhi della veggendo, come colui che mentacatto non era, fattolesi incontro con le braccia aperte, disse: Madonna, pensando che io per voi possa omai sempre dire che io sia vivo, a quello guardando donde torre mi faceste, gran villania sarebbe la mia se io ogni cosa che a grado vi fosse non m’ingegnassi di fare; e però contentate il piacer vostro d’abracciarmi e di basciarmi, ché io abraccerò e bascerò voi vie piú che volentieri.
Oltre a queste non bisognar piú parole. La , che tutta d’amoroso disio ardeva, prestamente gli si gittò nelle braccia; e poi che mille volte, disiderosamente strignendolo, basciato l’ebbe e altrettante da lui fu basciata, levatisi di quindi nella camera se ne andarono, e senza niuno indugio coricatisi pienamente e molte volte, anzi che il giorno venisse, i loro disii adempierono. Ma poi che a apparir cominciò l’aurora, sí come alla piacque levatisi, acciò che questa cosa non si potesse presummere per alcuno, datigli alcuni panni assai cattivi e empiutagli la borsa di denari, pregandolo che questo tenesse celato, avendogli prima mostrato che via tener dovesse a venir dentro a ritrovare il fante suo, per quel usciolo onde era entrato il mise fuori.
Egli, fatto dí chiaro, mostrando di venire di piú lontano, aperte le porte, entrò nel e ritrovò il suo fante; per che, rivestitosi de’ panni suoi che nella valigia erano e volendo montare in sul cavallo del fante, quasi per divino miracolo addivenne che li tre masnadieri che la sera davanti rubato l’aveano, per altro maleficio da lor fatto poco poi appresso presi, furono in quello menati; e per confessione da loro medesimi fatta, gli fu restituito il suo cavallo, i panni e i denari, né ne perdé altro che un paio di cintolini de’ quali non sapevano i masnadieri che fatto se n’avessero. Per la qual cosa , Idio e san Giulian ringraziando, montò a cavallo e sano e salvo ritornò a casa sua; e i tre masnadieri il dí seguente andaro a dare de’ calci a rovaio.
Rinaldo d’Asti is robbed, arrives at Castel Guglielmo, and is entertained by a widow lady; his property is restored to him, and he returns home safe and sound.
[Author]The ladies and the young men, especially Filostrato, laughed inordinately at Neifile’s narrative of Martellino’s misadventures. Then Filostrato, who sate next Neifile, received the queen’s command to follow her, and promptly thus began:
[Filostrato]Fair ladies, ’tis on my mind to tell you a story in which are mingled things sacred and passages of adverse fortune and love, which to hear will perchance be not unprofitable, more especially to travellers in love’s treacherous lands; of whom if any fail to say St. Julian’s paternoster, it often happens that, though he may have a good bed, he is ill lodged.
Know, then, that in the time of the Marquis Azzo da Ferrara, a merchant, Rinaldo d’Asti by name, having disposed of certain affairs which had brought him to Bologna, set his face homeward, and having left Ferrara behind him was on his way to Verona, when he fell in with some men that looked like merchants, but were in truth robbers and men of evil life and condition, whose company he imprudently joined, riding and conversing with them. They, perceiving that he was a merchant, and judging that he must have money about him, complotted to rob him on the first opportunity; and to obviate suspicion they played the part of worthy and reputable men, their discourse of nought but what was seemly and honourable and leal, their demeanour at once as respectful and as cordial as they could make it; so that he deemed himself very lucky to have met with them, being otherwise alone save for a single mounted servant. Journeying thus, they conversed, after the desultory manner of travellers, of divers matters, until at last they fell a talking of the prayers which men address to God, and one of the robbers–there were three of them–said to Rinaldo: And you, gentle sir, what is your wonted orison when you are on your travels? Rinaldo answered: Why, to tell the truth, I am a man unskilled, unlearned in such matters, and few prayers have I at my command, being one that lives in the good old way and lets two soldi count for twenty-four deniers; nevertheless it has always been my custom in journeying to say of a morning, as I leave the inn, a paternoster and an avemaria for the souls of the father and mother of St. Julian, after which I pray God and St. Julian to provide me with a good inn for the night. And many a time in the course of my life have I met with great perils by the way, and evading them all have found comfortable quarters for the night: whereby my faith is assured, that St. Julian, in whose honour I say my paternoster, has gotten me this favour of God; nor should I look for a prosperous journey and a safe arrival at night, if I had not said it in the morning. Then said his interrogator: And did you say it this morning? Whereto Rinaldo answered, Troth, did I, which caused the other, who by this time knew what course matters would take, to say to himself: ‘Twill prove to have been said in the nick of time; for if we do not miscarry, I take it thou wilt have but a sorry lodging. Then turning to Rinaldo he said: I also have travelled much, and never a prayer have I said, though I have heard them much commended by many; nor has it ever been my lot to find other than good quarters for the night; it may be that this very evening you will be able to determine which of us has the better lodging, you that have said the paternoster, or I that have not said it. True, however, it is that in its stead I am accustomed to say the ‘Dirupisti,’ or the ‘Intemerata,’ or the ‘De profundis,’ which, if what my grandmother used to say is to be believed, are of the greatest efficacy. So, talking of divers matters, and ever on the look-out for time and place suited to their evil purpose, they continued their journey, until towards evening, some distance from Castel Guglielmo, as they were about to ford a stream, these three ruffians, profiting by the lateness of the hour, and the loneliness and straitness of the place, set upon Rinaldo and robbed him, and leaving him afoot and in his shirt, said by way of adieu: Go now, and see if thy St. Julian will provide thee with good lodging to-night; our saint, we doubt not, will do as much by us; and so crossing the stream, they went their way. Rinaldo’s servant, coward that he was, did nothing to help his master when he saw him attacked, but turned his horse’s head, and was off at a smart pace; nor did he draw rein until he was come to Castel Guglielmo; where, it being now evening, he put up at an inn and gave himself no further trouble. Rinaldo, left barefoot, and stripped to his shirt, while the night closed in very cold and snowy, was at his wits’ end, and shivering so that his teeth chattered in his head, began to peer about, if haply he might find some shelter for the night, that so he might not perish with the cold; but, seeing none (for during a recent war the whole country had been wasted by fire), he set off for Castel Guglielmo, quickening his pace by reason of the cold. Whether his servant had taken refuge in Castel Guglielmo or elsewhere, he knew not, but he thought that, could he but enter the town, God would surely send him some succour. However, dark night overtook him while he was still about a mile from the castle; so that on his arrival he found the gates already locked and the bridges raised, and he could not pass in. Sick at heart, disconsolate and bewailing his evil fortune, he looked about for some place where he might ensconce himself, and at any rate find shelter from the snow. And by good luck he espied a house, built with a balcony a little above the castle-wall, under which balcony he purposed to shelter himself until daybreak. Arrived at the spot, he found beneath the balcony a postern, which, however, was locked; and having gathered some bits of straw that lay about, he placed them in front of the postern, and there in sad and sorrowful plight took up his quarters, with many a piteous appeal to St. Julian, whom he reproached for not better rewarding the faith which he reposed in him. St. Julian, however, had not abandoned him, and in due time provided him with a good lodging.
There was in the castle a widow lady of extraordinary beauty (none fairer) whom Marquis Azzo loved as his own life, and kept there for his pleasure. She lived in the very same house beneath the balcony of which Rinaldo had posted himself. Now it chanced that that very day the Marquis had come to Castel Guglielmo to pass the night with her, and had privily caused a bath to be made ready, and a supper suited to his rank, in the lady’s own house. The arrangements were complete; and only the Marquis was stayed for, when a servant happened to present himself at the castle-gate, bringing tidings for the Marquis which obliged him suddenly to take horse. He therefore sent word to the lady that she must not wait for him, and forthwith took his departure. The lady, somewhat disconsolate, found nothing better to do than to get into the bath which had been intended for the Marquis, sup and go to bed: so into the bath she went. The bath was close to the postern on the other side of which hapless Rinaldo had ensconced himself, and thus the mournful and quavering music which Rinaldo made as he shuddered in the cold, and which seemed rather to proceed from a stork’s beak than from the mouth of a human being, was audible to the lady in the bath. She therefore called her maid, and said to her: Go up and look out over the wall and down at the postern, and mark who is there, and what he is, and what he does there. The maid obeyed, and, the night being fine, had no difficulty in making out Rinaldo as he sate there, barefoot, as I have said, and in his shirt, and trembling in every limb. So she called out to him, to know who he was. Rinaldo, who could scarcely articulate for shivering, told as briefly as he could, who he was, and how and why he came to be there; which done, he began piteously to beseech her not, if she could avoid it, to leave him there all night to perish of cold. The maid went back to her mistress full of pity for Rinaldo, and told her all she had seen and heard. The lady felt no less pity for Rinaldo; and bethinking her that she had the key of the postern by which the Marquis sometimes entered when he paid her a secret visit, she said to the maid: Go, and let him in softly; here is this supper, and there will be none to eat it; and we can very well put him up for the night. Cordially commending her mistress’s humanity, the maid went and let Rinaldo in, and brought him to the lady, who, seeing that he was all but dead with cold, said to him: Quick, good man, get into that bath, which is still warm. Gladly he did so, awaiting no second invitation, and was so much comforted by its warmth that he seemed to have passed from death to life. The lady provided him with a suit of clothes, which had been worn by her husband shortly before his death, and which, when he had them on, looked as if they had been made for him. So he recovered heart, and, while he awaited the lady’s commands, gave thanks to God and St. Julian for delivering him from a woful night and conducting him, as it seemed, to comfortable quarters.
The lady meanwhile took a little rest, after which she had a roaring fire put in one of her large rooms, whither presently she came, and asked her maid how the good man did. The maid replied: Madam, he has put on the clothes, in which he shews to advantage, having a handsome person, and seeming to be a worthy man, and well-bred. Go, call him then, said the lady, tell him to come hither to the fire, and we will sup; for I know that he has not supped. Rinaldo, on entering the room and seeing the lady, took her to be of no small consequence. He therefore made her a low bow, and did his utmost to thank her worthily for the service she had rendered him. His words pleased her no less than his person, which accorded with what the maid had said: so she made him heartily welcome, installed him at his ease by her side before the fire, and questioned him of the adventure which had brought him thither. Rinaldo detailed all the circumstances, of which the lady had heard somewhat when Rinaldo’s servant made his appearance at the castle. She therefore gave entire credence to what he said, and told him what she knew about his servant, and how he might easily find him on the morrow. She then bade set the table, which done, Rinaldo and she washed their hands and sate down together to sup. Tall he was and comely of form and feature, debonair and gracious of mien and manner, and in his lusty prime. The lady had eyed him again and again to her no small satisfaction, and, her wantonness being already kindled for the Marquis, who was to have come to lie with her, she had let Rinaldo take the vacant place in her mind. So when supper was done, and they were risen from the table, she conferred with her maid, whether, after the cruel trick played upon her by the Marquis, it were not well to take the good gift which Fortune had sent her. The maid knowing the bent of her mistress’s desire, left no word unsaid that might encourage her to follow it. Wherefore the lady, turning towards Rinaldo, who was standing where she had left him by the fire, began thus: So! Rinaldo, why still so pensive? Will nothing console you for the loss of a horse and a few clothes? Take heart, put a blithe face on it, you are at home; nay more, let me tell you that, seeing you in those clothes which my late husband used to wear, and taking you for him, I have felt, not once or twice, but perhaps a hundred times this evening, a longing to throw my arms round you and kiss you; and, in faith, I had so done, but that I feared it might displease you. Rinaldo, hearing these words, and marking the flame which shot from the lady’s eyes, and being no laggard, came forward with open arms, and confronted her and said: Madam, I am not unmindful that I must ever acknowledge that to you I owe my life, in regard of the peril whence you rescued me. If then there be any way in which I may pleasure you, churlish indeed were I not to devise it. So you may even embrace and kiss me to your heart’s content, and I will embrace and kiss you with the best of good wills. There needed no further parley. The lady, all aflame with amorous desire, forthwith threw herself into his arms, and straining him to her bosom with a thousand passionate embraces, gave and received a thousand kisses before they sought her chamber. There with all speed they went to bed, nor did day surprise them until again and again and in full measure they had satisfied their desire. With the first streaks of dawn they rose, for the lady was minded that none should surmise aught of the affair. So, having meanly habited Rinaldo, and replenished his purse, she enjoined him to keep the secret, shewed him the way to the castle, where he was to find his servant, and let him out by the same postern by which he had entered. When it was broad day the gates were opened, and Rinaldo, passing himself off as a traveller from distant parts, entered the castle, and found his servant. Having put on the spare suit which was in his valise, he was about to mount the servant’s horse, when, as if by miracle, there were brought into the castle the three gentlemen of the road who had robbed him the evening before, having been taken a little while after for another offence. Upon their confession Rinaldo’s horse was restored to him, as were also his clothes and money; so that he lost nothing except a pair of garters, of which the robbers knew not where they had bestowed them. Wherefore Rinaldo, giving thanks to God and St. Julian, mounted his horse, and returned home safe and sound, and on the morrow the three robbers kicked heels in the wind.