The Decameron (Day 1 to Day 5)

This done, and plainely perceiving that they were not heard or seene, either by the Lady, or any other: the Duke tooke a light in his hand, going on to the bed, where the Lady lay most sweetely sleeping; whom the more he beheld, the more he admired and commended: but if in her garments shee appeared so pleasing, what did shee now in a bed of such state and Majesty? Being no way daunted by his so late committed sinne, but swimming rather in surfet of joy, his hands all bloody, and his soule much more uglie; he laide him downe on the bed by her, bestowing infinite kisses and embraces on her, she supposing him to be the Prince all this while, nor opening her eyes to be otherwise resolved. But this was not the delight he aimed at, neither did he thinke it safe for him, to delay time with any longer tarying there: wherefore having his agents at hand fit and convenient for the purpose, they surprized her in such sort, that she could not make any noise or outcry, and carrying her thorough the same false posterne, whereat themselves had entred, laying her in a Princely litter; away they went with all possible speede, not tarrying in any place, untill they were arrived neere Athens. But thither hee would not bring her, because himselfe was a married man, but rather to a goodly Castle of his owne, not distant farre off from the City; where he caused her to be kept very secretly (to her no little greefe and sorrow) yet attended on and served in most honourable manner.

The Gentlemen usually attending on the Prince, having waited all the next morning till noone, in expectation of his rising, and hearing no stirring in the Chamber: did thrust at the doore, which was but onely closed together, & finding no body there, they presently imagined, that he was privately gone to some other place, where (with the Lady, whom he so deerely affected) hee might remaine some few dayes for his more contentment, and so they relied verily perswaded. Within some fewe dayes following, while no other doubt came in question, the Princes Foole, entering by chance among the ruined houses, where lay the dead bodies of the Prince and Churiacy: tooke hold of the corde about Churiacyes necke, and so went along dragging it after him. The bodye being knowne to many, with no meane mervaile, how hee should bee murthered in so vile manner: by giftes and faire perswasions they wonne him, to bring them to the place where hee found it. And there (to the no little greefe of all the Cittie) they found the Princes body also, which they caused to bee interred with all the most majesticke pomp that might bee.

Upon further inquisition, who should commit so horrid a deed, perceyving likewise, that the Duke of Athens was not to be found, but was closely gone: they judged (according to the truth) that he had his hand in this bloody businesse, and had carried away the Lady with him. Immediately, they elected the Princes brother to bee their Lord and Soveraigne, inciting him to revenge so horrid a wrong, and promising to assist him with their utmost power. The new chosen Prince being assured afterward, by other more apparant and remarkeable proofes, that his people informed him with nothing but truth: sodainly, and according as they had concluded, with the helpe of neighbours, kindred, and friends, collected from divers places; he mustred a goodly and powerful army, marching on towards Athens, to make war against the Duke.

No sooner heard he of this warlike preparation made against him, but he likewise levied forces for his owne defence, and to his succour came many great States: among whom, the Emperor of Constantinople sent his Sonne Constantine, attended on by his Nephew Emanuell, with troopes of faire and towardly force, who were most honourably welcommed and entertained by the Duke, but much more by the Dutchesse, because she was their sister in law.

Military provision thus proceeding on daily more and more, the Dutches making choise of a fit and convenient houre, took these two Princes with her to a with-drawing Chamber; and there in flouds of teares flowing from her eyes, wringing her hands, and sighing incessantly, shee recounted the whole History, occasion of the warre, and how dishonourably the Duke had dealt with her about this strange woman, whom he purposed to keepe in despight of her, as thinking that she knew nothing thereof, and complaining very earnestly unto them, entreated that for the Dukes honour, and her comfort, they would give their best assistance in this case.

The two young Lords knew all this matter, before shee thus reported it to them; and therefore, without staying to listen her any longer, but comforting her so wel as they could, with promise of their best employed paines: being informed by her, in what place the Lady was so closely kept, they tooke their leave, and parted from her. Often they had heard the Lady much commended, and her incomparable beauty highly extolled, yea, even by the Duke himselfe; which made them the more desirous to see her: wherefore earnestly they solicited him, to let them have a sight of her, and he (forgetting what happened to the Prince, by shewing her so unadvisedly to him) made them promise to grant their request. Causing a magnificent dinner to be prepared, & in a goodly garden, at the Castle where the Lady was kept: on the morrow morning, attended on by a small train, away they rode to dine with her.

Constantine being seated at the Table, he began (as one confounded with admiration) to observe her judiciously, affirming secretly to his soule that he had never seene so compleat a woman before; and allowing it for justice, that the Duke, or any other whosoever, if (to enjoy so rare a beauty) they had committed treason, or any mischiefe else beside, yet in reason they ought to be held excused. Nor did he bestow so many lookes upon her, but his prayses infinitely surpassed them, as thinking that he could not sufficiently commend her, following the Duke step by step in affection: for being now growne amorous of her, and remembrance of the intended warre utterly abandoned; no other thoughts could come neerer him, but how to bereave the Duke of her, yet concealing his love, and not imparting it to any one.

While his fancies were thus amorously set on fire, the time came, that they must make head against the Prince, who already was marching within the Dukes Dominions: wherefore the Duke Constantine and all the rest, according to a counsell held among them, went to defend certaine of the frontiers, to the end that the Prince might passe no further. Remaining there divers dayes together, Constantine, who could thinke on nothing else, but the beautifull Lady, considered with himselfe, that while the Duke was now so far off from her, it was an easie matter to compasse his intent: hereupon, the better to colour his present returne to Athens, he seemed to be surprized with a sudden extreame sicknesse, in regard whereof (by the Dukes free lisence, and leaving all his power to his Cousen Emanuel) forthwith he journeyed backe to Athens. After some conference had with his sister, concerning her dishonourable wrongs endured at his hands only by the Lady: he solemnly protested, that if shee were so pleased, he would aide her powerfully in the matter, by taking her from the place where she was, and never more afterward, to be seene in that Countrey any more.

The Dutchesse being faithfully perswaded, that he would doe this onely for her sake, and not in any affection he bare to the Lady, made answer that it highly pleased her; alwayes provided, that it might be performed in such sort, as the Duke her Husband should never understand, that ever shee gave any consent thereto, which Constantine sware unto her by many deep oathes, whereby she referred all to his owne disposition. Constantine hereupon secretly prepared in readinesse a subtill Barke, sending it (in an evening) neere to the garden where the Lady resorted; having first informed the people which were in it, fully in the businesse that was to be done. Afterward, accompanied with some other of his attendants, hee went to the Palace to the Lady, where he was gladly entertained, not only by such as waited on her, but also by the Lady her selfe.

Leading her along by the arme towards the Garden, attended on by two of her servants, and two of his owne, seeming as if he was sent from the Duke, to conferre with her: they walked alone to a Port opening on the Sea, which standing ready open, upon a signe given by him to one of his complices, the Barke was brought close to the shore, and the Lady being suddenly seized on, was immediately conveyed into it; and he returning backe to her people, with his sword drawne in his hand, saide: Let no man stirre, or speake a word, except he be willing to loose his life: for I intend not to rob the Duke of his faire friend, but to expel the shame and dishonour which he hath offered to my Sister, no one being so hardy as to returne him any answer. Aboard went Constantine with his consorts, and sitting neer to the Lady, who wrung her hands, and wept bitterly; he commanded the Marriners to launch forth, flying away on the wings of the wind, till about the breake of day following, they arrived at Melasso. There they tooke landing, and reposed on shore for some few dayes, Constantine labouring to comfort the Lady, even as if shee had been his owne Sister, shee having good cause to curse her infortunate beauty.

Going aboard the Barke againe, within few dayes they came to Setalia, and there fearing the reprehension of his Father, and least the Ladie should be taken from him; it pleased Constantine to make his stay, as in a place of no meane security. And (as before) after much kinde behaviour used towards the Lady, without any meanes in her selfe to redresse the least of all these great extremities: shee became more milde and affable, for discontentment did not a jot quaile her.

While occurrences passed on in this manner, it fortuned, that Osbech the King of Turky (who was in continuall war with the Emperour) came by accident to Laiazzo: and hearing there how lasciviously Constantine spent his time in Setalia, with a Lady which he had stolne, being but weake and slenderly guarded; in the night with certaine well provided ships, his men & he entred the Towne, & surprized many people in their beds, before they knew of their enemies comming, killing such as stood upon their defence against them, (among whom was Constantine) and burning the whole Towne, brought their booty and prisoners aboard their ships, wherewith they returned backe to Laiazzo. Being thus come to Laiazzo, Osbech, who was a brave and gallant young man, upon a review of the pillage; found the faire Lady, whom hee knew to be the beloved of Constantine, because shee was found lying on his bed. Without any further delay, he made choyse of her to be his Wife; causing his nuptials to be honourably sollemnized, and many moneths hee lived there in great joy with her.

But before occasions grew to this effect, the Emperour made a confederacy with Bassano, King of Cappadocia, that hee should descend with his forces; one way upon Osbech, and hee would assault him with his power on the other. But he could not so conveniently bring this to passe, because the Emperour would not yeeld to Bassano, in any unreasonable matter he demanded. Neverthelesse, when he understood what had happened to his Son (for whom his griefe was beyond all measure) he granted the King of Cappadociaes request, solliciting him with all instancy, to be the more speedy in assailing Osbech. It was not long, before hee heard of this conjuration made against him; and therefore speedily mustered up all his forces, ere he would be encompassed by two such potent Kings, and marched on to meete the King of Cappadocia, leaving his Lady and Wife, (for her safety) at Laiazzo, in the custodie of a true and loyall servant of his.

Within a short while after, he drew neere the Campe belonging to the King of Cappadocia, where boldly he gave him battell; chancing therein to be slaine, his Army broken and discomfited, by meanes whereof the King of Cappadocia remaining Conquerour, marched on towards Laiazzo, every one yeelding him obeysance all the way as he went. In the meane space, the servant to Osbech, who was named Antiochus, and with whom the faire Lady was left in guard; although hee was aged, yet seeing shee was so extraordinarily beautifull, he fell in love with her, forgetting the sollemne vowes he had made to his Master. One happinesse hee had in this case to helpe him, namely, that he understood and could speake her language, a matter of no meane comfort to her; who constrainedly had lived divers yeeres together, in the state of a deafe or dumbe woman, because every where else they understood her not, nor shee them, but by shewes and signes.

This benefit of familiar conference, beganne to embolden his hopes, elevate his courage, and make him seeme more youthfull in his owne opinion, then any ability of body could speake unto him, or promise him in the possession of her, who was so farre beyond him, and so unequall to be enjoyed by him; yet to advance his hopes a great deale higher, newes came, that Osbech was vanquished and slaine, and that Bassano made everie where havocke of all: whereon they concluded together, not to tarrie there any longer, but storing themselves with the goods of Osbech, secretly they departed thence to Rhodes. Being seated there in some indifferent abiding, it came to passe, that Antiochus fell into a deadly sicknesse, to whom came a Cyprian Merchant, one much esteemed by him, as being an intimate friend and kinde acquaintance, and in whom hee reposed no small confidence. Feeling his sicknesse to encrease more and more upon him dayly, hee determined, not onely to leave such wealth as hee had to this Merchant, but the faire Lady likewise; and calling them both to his beds side, he brake his minde unto them in this manner.

Deare Love, and my most worthily respected friend, I perceive plainly and infallibly, that I am drawing neere unto my end, which much discontenteth me; because my hope was, to have lived longer in this world, for the enjoying of your kinde and most esteemed company. Yet one thing maketh my death very pleasing and welcome to me, namely, that lying thus in my bed of latest comfort in this life: I shall expire and finish my course, in the armes of those two persons, whom I most affected in all this world, as you my ever dearest friend, and you faire Lady, whom (since the very first sight of you) I loved and honoured in my soule. Irksome and very grievous it is to me, that (if I dye) I shall leave you here a stranger, without the counsaile and helpe of any body: and yet much more offensive would it become, if I had not such a friend as you here present, who I am faithfully perswaded, will have the like care and respect of her (even for my sake) as of myselfe, if time had allotted my longer tarying here. And therefore (worthy friend) most earnestly I desire you, that if I dye, all mine affaires and she may remaine to your trusty care, as being (by my selfe) absolutely commended to your providence, and so to dispose both of the one and other, as may best agree with the comfort of my soule. As for you (choise beauty) I humbly entreate, that after my death you would not forget mee, to the end, I may make my vaunt in another world, that I was affected here, by the onely fairest Lady that ever Nature framed. If of these two things you will give me assurance; I shall depart from you with no meane comfort.

The friendly Merchant, and likewise the Lady, hearing these words, wept both bitterly, and after hee had given over speaking: kindly they comforted him, with promise and solemne vowes, that if hee dyed, all should be performed which he had requested. Within a short while after, he departed out of this life, and they gave him very honourable buriall, according to that Country custome. Which being done, the Merchant dispatching all his affaires at Rhodes, was desirous to returne home to Cyprus, in a Carrack of the Catelans then there being: moving the Lady in the matter, to understand how shee stood enclined, because urgent occasions called him thence to Cyprus. The Lady made answere, that she was willing to passe thither with him, hoping for the love hee bare to deceased Antiochus, that he would respect her as his Sister. The Merchant was willing to give her any contentment, but yet resolved her, that under the title of being his Sister, it would be no warrant of security to them both; wherefore hee rather advised her, to stile him as her husband, and hee would terme her his wife, and so hee should be sure to defend her from all injuries whatsoever.

Being abord the Carrack, they had a Cabine and small bed conveniently allowed them, where they slept together, that they might the better be reputed as man and wife; for, to passe otherwise, would have beene very dangerous to them both. And questionlesse, their faithfull promise made at Rhodes to Antiochus, sicknesse on the Sea, and mutuall respect they had of each others credit, was a constant restraint to all wanton desires, and a motive rather to incite chastity, then otherwise, and so (I hope) you are perswaded of them. But howsoever, the windes blewe merrily, the Carrack sayled lustily, and (by this time) they are arrived at Baffa, where the Cyprian Merchant dwelt, and where shee continued a long while with him, no one knowing otherwise, but that shee was his wife indeede.

Now it fortuned, that there arrived also at the same Baffa (about some especiall occasions of his) a Gentleman, whose name was Antigonus, well stept into yeares, and better stored with wisedome then wealth: because by medling in many matters, while hee followed the service of the King of Cyprus, Fortune had beene very adverse to him. This ancient Gentleman, passing (on a day) by the house where the Lady lay, and the Merchant being gone about his businesse into Armenia: hee chanced to see the Lady at a window of the house, and because shee was very beautifull, he observed her the more advisedly, recollecting his sences together, that doubtlesse he had seene her before, but in what place hee could not remember. The Lady her selfe likewise, who had so long time beene Fortunes tennis ball, and the terme of her many miseries drawing now neere ending: began to conceive (upon the very first sight of Antigonus) that she had formerly seene him in Alexandria, serving her Father in place of great degree. Hereupon, a suddaine hope perswaded her, that by the advice and furtherance of this Gentleman, she should recover her wonted Royall condition: and opportunity now aptly fitting her, by the absence of her pretended Merchant husband, she sent for him, requesting to have a few words with him.

When he was come into the house, she bashfully demanded of him, if he was not named Antigonus of Famagosta, because shee knew one (like him) so called? Hee answered, that he was so named, saying moreover: Madame, me thinkes that I should know you, but I cannot remember where I have seene you, wherefore I would entreate (if it might stand with your good liking) that my memory might be quickned with better knowledge of you. The Lady perceiving him to be the man indeede, weeping incessantly, she threw her armes about his necke, and soone after asked Antigonus (who stood as one confounded with mervaile) if hee had never seene her in Alexandria? Upon these words, Antigonus knew her immediatly to be Alathiella, daughter to the great Soldane, who was supposed (long since) to be drowned in the Sea: and offering to doe her such reverence as became him, she would not permit him, but desired, that he would be assistant to her, and willed him also to sit downe a while by her.

A goodly Chaire being brought him, in very humble manner he demanded of her, what had become of her in so long a time: because it was verily beleeved throughout all Egypt, that shee was drowned in the Sea. I would it had bin so, answered the Lady, rather then to leade such a life as I have done; and I thinke my Father himselfe would wish it so, if ever he should come to the knowledge thereof. With these words the teares rained downe her faire cheekes: wherefore Antigonus thus spake unto her. Madame, discomfort not your selfe before you have occasion, but (if you be so pleased) relate your passed accidents to mee, and what the course of your life hath bene: perhaps, I shall give you such friendly advice as may stand you in sted, and no way be injurious to you.

Fetching a sigh, even as if her heart would have split in sunder, thus she replyed. Ah Antigonus, me thinkes when I looke on thee, I seeme to behold my royall Father, and therefore mooved with the like religious zeale and charitable love, as (in duty) I owe unto him: I will make knowne to thee, what I rather ought to conceale, and hide from any person living. I know thee to bee honourable, discreete, and truely wise, though I am a fraile, simple, and weake woman, therefore I dare discover to thee, rather then any other that I know, by what straunge and unexpected misfortunes, I have lived so long obscurely in the world. And if in thy great and grave judgement (after the hearing of my many miseries) thou canst any way restore me to my former estate, I pray thee do it: but if thou perceive it impossible to bee done, as earnestly likewise I entreate thee, never to reveale to any living person, that either thou hast seene me, or heard any speech of me. After these words, the teares still streaming from her faire eyes, shee recounted the whole passage of her rare mishaps, even from her shipwracke in the Sea of Majorica, until that very instant houre; speaking them in such harsh manner as they hapned, and not sparing any jot of them.

Antigonus being mooved to much compassion, declared how hee pitied her by his teares, and having bene silent an indifferent while, as considering in this case, what was best to be done, thus he began. Madam, seeing you have past through such a multitude of misfortunes, yet undiscovered, what and who you are: I will render you as blamelesse to your Father, and estate you as fairely in his love, as at the hour when you parted from him, and afterward make you wife to the King of Cholcos. She demanding of him, by what meanes possibly this could be accomplished: breefely he made it knowne to her, how, and in what manner hee would performe it.

To cut off further tedious circumstances, forthwith he returned to Famagosta, and going before the King of the country, thus he spake to him. Sir, you may (if so you will be pleased) in an instant, do me an exceeding honour, who have bene impoverished by your service, and also a deed of great renowne to your selfe, without any much matter of expence and cost. The King demanding how? Antigonus thus answered. The fayre daughter of the Soldane, so generally reported to be drowned, is arrived at Baffa, and to preserve her honour from blemishing, hath suffered many crosses and calamities: being at this instant in very poore estate, yet desirous to re-visite her father. If you please to send her home under my conduct, it will be great honour to you, and no meane benefite to mee; which kindnesse will for ever be thankfully remembred by the Soldan.

The King in royall magnificence, replied sodainly, that he was highly pleased with these good tydings; & having sent honourably for her from Baffa, with great pompe she was conducted to Famagosta, and there most graciously welcommed both by the King and Queene, with solemne triumphes, bankets, and revelling, performed in most Majesticke manner. Being questioned by the King and Queene, concerning so large a time of strange misfortunes: according as Antigonus had formerly enstructed her, so did she shape the forme of her answers, and satisfied (with honour) all their demands. So, within few dayes after, upon her earnest & instant request, with an honourable traine of Lords and Ladies, shee was sent thence, and conducted all the way by Antigonus, untill she came unto the Soldans Court.