Tales From the Decameron of Giovanni Boccaccio

by Giovanni Boccaccio

  Eventually, after running for quite a while without shaking off his pursuer, Ruberto, who was also armed, drew his sword and faced about; and so they began to fight, with Arriguccio attacking and Ruberto defending himself.

  Meanwhile, Arriguccio’s wife, having woken up as he opened the door of the bedroom, had no sooner found that the string was missing than she realized that her stratagem had been discovered, and on hearing Arriguccio giving chase to Ruberto, she leapt out of bed. Foreseeing what was likely to happen, she summoned her maid, who knew all about the affair, and prevailed upon her to take her own place in the bed, at the same time entreating her to keep her identity a secret and patiently bear all the blows that Arriguccio might give her, for which service she would be so well rewarded that she would have no cause for complaint. And after extinguishing the light that was burning in the bedroom, she went away and concealed herself in another part of the house, and waited to see what would happen.

  On hearing Arriguccio and Ruberto fighting with one another, the people living nearby rose from their beds and began to curse and swear at them; and so Arriguccio, for fear of being recognized, broke off the engagement and reluctantly made his way home, seething with anger, having failed either to identify the young man or to injure him in the slightest. And on reaching the bedroom, he began to shout and rave, saying:

  ‘Where are you, strumpet? You thought you’d get away from me by putting out the light, did you? Well, you’d better think again!’

  Then, going up to the bed, he took hold of the maidservant, thinking her to be his wife, and kicked and punched her with all the power he had in his feet and hands, until her face was black and blue all over, at the same time addressing her by the foulest names that an unchaste woman was ever called; and finally, he cut off her hair.

  The maidservant wept bitterly, and with good reason, but although from time to time she cried out, saying ‘Alas, for God’s sake have mercy!’ or ‘Oh, please, no more!’ her speech was so distorted by her sobbing, and Arriguccio was so demented with rage, that he failed to notice that the voice was not his wife’s.

  Having given her an unholy thrashing and cut off her hair, as we have already mentioned, he said:

  ‘Vile hussy, I’ll not soil my hands with you any further, but I shall go seek out your brothers and tell them about the fine way you behave. Furthermore, I shall tell them to come and deal with you as their honour requires, and take you away from here, because you’re certainly not going to stay in this house any longer.’ And having spoken these words, he stormed out of the room, bolted the door on the outside, and strode off, all alone, into the night.

  Monna Sismonda had been listening the whole time, and as soon as she heard her husband leaving the house, she opened the bedroom door and re-lit the lamp, to discover her maidservant lying there, all bruised and battered, and crying her eyes out. Having consoled her as best she could, she led the girl back to her own room, where she covertly arranged for her to be nursed back to health and waited upon, and rewarded her so handsomely from Arriguccio’s own coffers that the girl was more than contented.

  No sooner was the maid safely bestowed in her room than Monna Sismonda returned, remade the bed, and tidied up the whole room so as to make it look as if no one had slept there. Having re-lit the main lamp, she dressed herself and combed her hair to give the impression that she had not yet gone to bed, then she lit another lamp, which she took out on to the landing with some of her sewing. She then sat down and began to sew, and waited to see how things would develop.

  On leaving the house, Arriguccio had hurried round to his wife’s brothers’ house as fast as his legs would carry him, and hammered away at the door until someone came to let him in. Hearing that it was Arriguccio, the lady’s three brothers and her mother got up out of bed, called for lights to be lit, and came down to ask him what had brought him to see them, all alone, at that hour of the night.

  Arriguccio gave them a full account of all that he had found and all that he had done, beginning with his discovery of the string attached to Monna Sismonda’s toe; and in order to prove his story beyond any shadow of a doubt, he handed over the hair which he had cut off (or so he thought) from his wife’s head, adding that they were to come and fetch her and deal with her according to the dictates of their family honour, as he had no intention of permitting her to darken his doorstep again.

  The lady’s brothers, who believed every word of his story, were exceedingly angry, and, calling for torches to be lit, they set forth with Arriguccio and made their way to his house, determined to punish her severely. On seeing how incensed they were against her daughter, the mother burst into tears and began to follow them, pleading with each of them in turn not to be taken in so quickly by everything they heard without looking further into the matter. She pointed out that the husband might have some other reason for losing his temper and knocking her about, and that he might have trumped up these charges against her as a cover for his own misdeeds. Moreover, she was astonished that such a thing could have happened, knowing her daughter as she did, and having brought her up herself from her infancy. And she made a great many more observations, all of them in similar vein.

  On arriving at Arriguccio’s house, they all went inside and began to ascend the stairs, and Monna Sismonda, hearing them coming, called out:

  ‘Who is it?’

  Whereupon one of her brothers replied:

  ‘You’ll find out soon enough who it is, you brazen hussy.’

  And so Monna Sismonda said:

  ‘What can be the meaning of this? Good Lord, deliver us.’ And rising to her feet, she added:

  ‘Brothers, how nice to see you. But what can have brought the three of you here at this hour of the night?’

  When they saw her sitting there with her sewing, and without a mark on her face albeit Arriguccio had claimed that he had beaten her black and blue all over, her brothers were somewhat taken aback, and the vehemence of their anger was diminished. But having recovered from the initial shock, they demanded an explanation of the complaint that Arriguccio had laid against her, threatening to deal with her severely if she told them any lies.

  ‘I don’t know what I’m supposed to tell you,’ said the lady, ‘nor do I know why Arriguccio should have complained to you about me.’

  Arriguccio could do nothing but gape at her as though he had lost his wits, for he could remember having punched her times without number about the face, scratched it well and truly, and given her the biggest hiding imaginable, yet as far as he could tell she bore no trace whatever of all this.

  But to cut a long story short, her brothers told her what Arriguccio had said, mentioning the string and the thrashing he had given her and all the other details, whereupon the lady turned to Arriguccio, saying:

  ‘Heavens above, husband, what is this that I hear? Why bring so much shame upon yourself by making me out to be an adulteress, when I am nothing of the sort, and claiming to have done something cruel and wicked, when you haven’t? You hadn’t even set foot in the house tonight until just now, let alone come anywhere near me! When did you give me this beating? I have no recollection of it.’

  ‘What!’ exclaimed Arriguccio. ‘Vile woman, did we not go to bed together this evening? Did I not return here, after giving chase to your lover? Did I not give you a hiding, and cut off your hair?’

  To which his wife replied:

  ‘You never went to bed in this house tonight. But let us leave that point aside, for I have only my own words to prove it, and take up what you said about giving me a hiding and cutting off my hair. You never gave me any hiding, as everybody here, including yourself, can see quite clearly by examining my person. Nor would I advise you ever to make so bold as to lay your hands on me, for, by the cross of God, I would deform your face for life. What’s more, you never cut off my hair either, unless you did it without my noticing: let’s just see now whether my hair has been cut off or not.’

  And removing her veils, she displayed
a fine head of hair, which showed no signs of having been trimmed.

  When her brothers and her mother saw and heard all this, they rounded on Arriguccio, saying:

  ‘What sort of a joke is this, Arriguccio? This doesn’t correspond in the least to what you came and told us, and you’re going to have a job to prove the rest of your story.’

  Arriguccio stood transfixed, as if he were in a trance. Although he was bursting to speak, on seeing there was no truth in the very thing he thought he could prove, he made no attempt to say anything.

  So the lady turned back to her brothers, and said:

  ‘I see now, brothers, what his intentions were: he wanted me to tell you about the wicked and scoundrelly way he behaves, which is a subject I have never had any desire to discuss, but now I shall do so. I firmly believe that his story is true, that he did all the things he was telling you about, and that what happened was this:

  ‘The worthy gentleman, to whom I had the misfortune to be given by you in marriage, who calls himself a merchant and wants people to think that he is more temperate than a monk and more chaste than a virgin (as indeed he should be) goes carousing nearly every night in the taverns, and consorting with one harlot after another; and meanwhile I have to sit here, as you found me when you arrived, and wait up half the night for him, and sometimes he never comes home at all until morning. It’s my belief that he got himself blind drunk and bedded down with some strumpet or other, then woke up to find the string attached to her foot, after which he performed all those brave exploits he’s been telling you about, and finally returned to his doxy, beat her up, and cut off her hair. Since he was still in his cups, he believed (as I’m sure he still does) that he’d done all this to me; and if you take a good look at his face, you’ll see that he is still half drunk even now. But all the same, whatever he may have said about me, I would not want you to take it as anything other than the lunatic ravings of someone who is full of Dutch courage. And since I am prepared to forgive him, you must do the same.’

  Having heard what her daughter had said, the mother now began to raise a clamour, saying:

  ‘By the cross of God, daughter, we ought to do no such thing; on the contrary, this loathsome, ungrateful cur ought to be put to death. You were far too good for him in the first place. God in Heaven, you’d think he had picked you up out of the gutter! To hell with this small-time trader in horse manure, let him take his foul slander elsewhere! These country yokels, they move into town after serving as cut-throat to some petty rustic tyrant, and wander about the streets in rags and tatters, their trousers all askew, with a quill sticking out2 from their backsides, and no sooner do they get a few pence in their pockets than they want the daughters of noble gentlemen and fine ladies for their wives. And they devise a coat of arms for themselves, and go about saying: “I belong to such-and-such a family” and “My people did so-and-so”. If only my sons had followed my advice! They could easily have married you into the finest family in Florence, with no more than a hunk of bread for a dowry, instead of which they had to give you to this perfect jewel of a man, who has the impudence, when he’s married to the most chaste and respectable girl in the city, to wake us up in the middle of the night and call you a strumpet, as if we didn’t know you. God’s faith! if I had anything to do with it, he’d be given such a thrashing that he’d smart for the rest of his days.’

  Then, turning to her sons, she said:

  ‘Didn’t I tell you all along that it couldn’t be true? Have you heard how your poor sister is treated by this precious brother-in-law of yours? He’s a tuppenny-ha’penny pedlar, that’s what he is! If I were in your place, after hearing what he’s said about her and what he’s done to her, I’d never rest content till I’d scourged him from the face of the earth. And if I were a man, and not a woman, I wouldn’t allow anyone to stop me. God punish the drunken villain! He ought to be ashamed of himself!’

  Angered by what they had seen and heard, the young men turned on Arriguccio and called him all the names under the sun; and by way of conclusion, they said:

  ‘We’ll let you off lightly this time, seeing that you’ve had too much to drink. But as you value your life, take care never to disturb us again with your nonsensical stories, because if we hear any more from you, you can rest assured we shall pay you out twice over.’ And with this dire warning they departed.

  Arriguccio was left standing there, gazing into space like an idiot, and not knowing whether the things he had done were real or part of a dream. However, he said no more about it, but left his wife in peace, so that not only had she kept her wits about her and avoided the immediate danger, but she had also made it possible, from then on, to enjoy herself to her heart’s content without any fear of her husband.

  NINTH STORY

  Lydia, wife of Nicostratos, falls in love with Pyrrhus, who sets her three tasks as a proof of her sincerity. She performs all three, in addition to which she makes love to Pyrrhus in her husband’s presence, causing Nicostratos to believe that his eyes have been deceiving him.

  Neifile’s story was so much to their liking that the ladies could not be restrained from laughing and talking about it, even though the king, who had ordered Panfilo to narrate his own tale, called upon them several times to be silent. But as soon as they were quiet, Panfilo began as follows:

  Venerable ladies, it is my conviction that there is no enterprise, however perilous or difficult it may be, that those who are fervently in love will not have the courage to undertake. And although this has been proved in many of the stories we have heard, nevertheless I believe that I can prove it better still with the one I now propose to relate, in which you will hear of a lady whose deeds were far more favoured by Fortune than tempered by common sense. Consequently I would not advise any of you to take the risk of following her example, seeing that Fortune is not always so kindly disposed, and that all men are not equally gullible.

  In Argos,1 that most ancient city of Greece, whose kings brought it universal renown out of all proportion to its size, there was once a noble lord, Nicostratos by name, upon whom, on the threshold of old age, Fortune bestowed a wife of great distinction, no less bold than she was beautiful, whose name was Lydia.2

  Being a wealthy patrician, Nicostratos kept a large number of servants, hawks and hounds, and was passionately fond of hunting. One of his retainers, whose name was Pyrrhus, was a sprightly and elegant young man, handsomely proportioned, and skilled in every activity he chose to pursue, and Nicostratos loved and trusted him above all others.

  With this young man, Lydia fell desperately in love, to such an extent that her thoughts were fixed upon him alone at every hour of the day and night. But Pyrrhus, either failing or not desiring to notice, showed a total lack of interest in her love, which filled the lady’s heart with unspeakable sorrow. But being determined at all costs to acquaint him with her feelings, she summoned a maid of hers, named Lusca,3 whom she was able to trust implicitly, and said to her:

  ‘Lusca, the favours you have had from me in the past should have sufficed to earn me your loyalty and obedience, and hence you must take good care that nobody ever hears what I am about to tell you, apart from the person to whom I shall ask you to repeat it. As you can see, Lusca, I am young and vigorous, and I am well supplied with all the things a woman could desire. In short, with one exception I have nothing to complain about, and the exception is this: that my husband is much older than myself, and consequently I am ill provided with the one thing that gives young women their greatest pleasure. And because I desire this thing no less than other women, I long ago made up my mind that since Fortune has been so unkind as to give me an elderly husband, I would repair her omissions myself, and devise the means of winning solace and salvation through my own efforts. So that my enjoyment therein should be no less complete than in other matters, I have decided that our Pyrrhus, since he is more worthy of my love than any other man, should supply my needs with his embraces, and such is the love that I bear him, that I am ne
ver content except when I am gazing or musing upon him. Unless I can forgather with him very soon, I firmly believe that I shall die. And therefore, as you value my life, you must acquaint him with my love in whatever way you think best, and ask him on my behalf to favour me with his company at such time as you shall go to fetch him.’

  The maidservant willingly agreed to carry out her mistress’s instructions; and at the first opportunity, having taken Pyrrhus aside, she conveyed the lady’s message as best she could. Pyrrhus was greatly astonished to hear it, for he had never had the slightest inkling that the lady was in love with him, and suspected that she had sent the message in order to test his loyalty. So without mincing his words, he abruptly replied:

  ‘Lusca, I cannot believe that these words have come from my lady, so be careful of what you are saying. Even if they really did come from her, I cannot believe that she meant me to take them seriously. But if she did, I should never dream of doing such an injury to my master, who already honours me more than I deserve. So take care never to speak to me of such matters again.’

  Not to be deterred by the severity of his tone, Lusca replied:

  ‘Pyrrhus, if my mistress commands me to speak to you of these or any other matters, I shall do so as often as she tells me, whether you like it or not, and all I can say is that you are an obstinate fool.’

  Feeling somewhat galled by the answer that Pyrrhus had given her, she returned to her mistress, who, on hearing the result of her mission, simply wanted to lie down and die. However, a few days later she raised the subject once more with her maidservant, and said: