THE THIRD STORY
[Day the Fifth]
PIETRO BOCCAMAZZA, FLEEING WITH AGNOLELLA, FALLETH AMONG THIEVES; THE GIRL ESCAPETH THROUGH A WOOD AND IS LED [BY FORTUNE] TO A CASTLE, WHILST PIETRO IS TAKEN BY THE THIEVES, BUT PRESENTLY, ESCAPING FROM THEIR HANDS, WINNETH, AFTER DIVERS ADVENTURES, TO THE CASTLE WHERE HIS MISTRESS IS AND ESPOUSING HER, RETURNETH WITH HER TO ROME
There was none among all the company but commended Emilia's story,which the queen seeing to be finished, turned to Elisa and bade herfollow on. Accordingly, studious to obey, she began: "There occurrethto my mind, charming ladies, an ill night passed by a pair ofindiscreet young lovers; but, for that many happy days ensued thereon,it pleaseth me to tell the story, as one that conformeth to ourproposition.
There was, a little while agone, at Rome,--once the head, as it isnowadays the tail of the world,[275]--a youth, called PietroBoccamazza, of a very worshipful family among those of the city, whofell in love with a very fair and lovesome damsel called Agnolella,the daughter of one Gigliuozzo Saullo, a plebeian, but very dear tothe Romans, and loving her, he contrived so to do that the girl beganto love him no less than he loved her; whereupon, constrained byfervent love and himseeming he might no longer brook the cruel painthat the desire he had of her gave him, he demanded her in marriage;which no sooner did his kinsfolk know than they all repaired to himand chid him sore for that which he would have done; and on the otherhand they gave Gigliuozzo to understand that he should make no accountof Pietro's words, for that, an he did this, they would never have himfor friend or kinsman. Pietro seeing that way barred whereby alone hedeemed he might avail to win to his desire, was like to die ofchagrin, and had Gigliuozzo consented, he would have taken hisdaughter to wife, in despite of all his kindred. However, hedetermined, an it liked the girl, to contrive to give effect to theirwishes, and having assured himself, by means of an intermediary, thatthis was agreeable to her, he agreed with her that she should fleewith him from Rome.
[Footnote 275: Clement V. early in the fourteenth century removed thePapal See to Avignon, where it continued to be during the reigns ofthe five succeeding Popes, Rome being in the meantime abandoned by thePapal Court, till Gregory XI, in the year 1376 again took up hisresidence at the latter city. It is apparently to this circumstancethat Boccaccio alludes in the text.]
Accordingly, having taken order for this, Pietro arose very early onemorning and taking horse with the damsel, set out for Anagni, where hehad certain friends in whom he trusted greatly. They had no leisure tomake a wedding of it, for that they feared to be followed, but rodeon, devising of their love and now and again kissing one another. Itchanced that, when they came mayhap eight miles from Rome, the way notbeing overwell known to Pietro, they took a path to the left, whereasthey should have kept to the right; and scarce had they ridden morethan two miles farther when they found themselves near a littlecastle, wherefrom, as soon as they were seen, there issued suddenly adozen footmen. The girl, espying these, whenas they were already closeupon them, cried out, saying, 'Pietro, let us begone, for we areattacked'; then, turning her rouncey's head, as best she knew, towardsa great wood hard by, she clapped her spurs fast to his flank and heldon to the saddlebow, whereupon the nag, feeling himself goaded, boreher into the wood at a gallop.
Pietro, who went gazing more at her face than at the road, not havingbecome so quickly aware as she of the new comers, was overtaken andseized by them, whilst he still looked, without yet perceiving them,to see whence they should come. They made him alight from his hackneyand enquired who he was, which he having told, they proceeded to takecounsel together and said, 'This fellow is of the friends of ourenemies; what else should we do but take from him these clothes andthis nag and string him up to one of yonder oaks, to spite theOrsini?' They all fell in with this counsel and bade Pietro put offhis clothes, which as he was in act to do, foreboding him by this ofthe ill fate which awaited him, it chanced that an ambush of goodfive-and-twenty footmen started suddenly out upon the others, crying,'Kill! Kill!' The rogues, taken by surprise, let Pietro be and turnedto stand upon their defence, but, seeing themselves greatlyoutnumbered by their assailants, betook themselves to flight, whilstthe others pursued them.
Pietro, seeing this, hurriedly caught up his gear and springing on hishackney, addressed himself, as best he might, to flee by the way hehad seen his mistress take; but finding her not and seeing neitherroad nor footpath in the wood neither perceiving any horse's hoofmarks, he was the woefullest man alive; and as soon as himseemed hewas safe and out of reach of those who had taken him, as well as ofthe others by whom they had been assailed, he began to drive hitherand thither about the wood, weeping and calling; but none answered himand he dared not turn back and knew not where he might come, an hewent forward, more by token that he was in fear of the wild beaststhat use to harbour in the woods, at once for himself and for hismistress, whom he looked momently to see strangled of some bear orsome wolf. On this wise, then, did the unlucky Pietro range all dayabout the wood, crying and calling, whiles going backward, when as hethought to go forward, until, what with shouting and weeping and fearand long fasting, he was so spent that he could no more and seeing thenight come and knowing not what other course to take, he dismountedfrom his hackney and tied the latter to a great oak, into which heclimbed, so he might not be devoured of the wild beasts in the night.A little after the moon rose and the night being very clear andbright, he abode there on wake, sighing and weeping and cursing hisill luck, for that he durst not go to sleep, lest he should fall,albeit, had he had more commodity thereof, grief and the concern inwhich he was for his mistress would not have suffered him to sleep.
Meanwhile, the damsel, fleeing, as we have before said, and knowingnot whither to betake herself, save whereas it seemed good to herhackney to carry her, fared on so far into the wood that she could notsee where she had entered, and went wandering all day about thatdesert place, no otherwise than as Pietro had done, now pausing [tohearken] and now going on, weeping the while and calling and makingmoan of her illhap. At last, seeing that Pietro came not and it beingnow eventide, she happened on a little path, into which her hackneyturned, and following it, after she had ridden some two or more milesshe saw a little house afar off. Thither she made her way asquickliest she might and found there a good man sore stricken in yearsand a woman, his wife alike old, who, seeing her alone, said to her,'Daughter, what dost thou alone at this hour in these parts?' Thedamsel replied, weeping, that she had lost her company in the wood andenquired how near she was to Anagni. 'Daughter mine,' answered thegood man, 'this is not the way to go to Anagni; it is more than adozen miles hence.' Quoth the girl, 'And how far is it hence to anyhabitations where I may have a lodging for the night?' To which thegood man answered, 'There is none anywhere so near that thou maystcome thither by daylight.' Then said the damsel, 'Since I can go nootherwhere, will it please you harbour me here to-night for the loveof God?' 'Young lady,' replied the old man, 'thou art very welcome toabide with us this night; algates, we must warn you that there aremany ill companies, both of friends and of foes that come and go aboutthese parts both by day and by night, who many a time do us sore annoyand great mischief; and if, by ill chance, thou being here, there comeany of them and seeing thee, fair and young as thou art, should offerto do thee affront and shame, we could not avail to succour theetherefrom. We deem it well to apprise thee of this, so that, an itbetide, thou mayst not be able to complain of us.'
The girl, seeing that it was late, albeit the old man's wordsaffrighted her, said, 'An it please God, He will keep both you and mefrom that annoy; and even if it befall me, it were a much less evil tobe maltreated of men than to be mangled of the wild beasts in thewoods.' So saying, she alighted from the rouncey and entered the poorman's house, where she supped with him on such poor fare as they hadand after, all clad as she was, cast herself, together with them, on alittle bed of theirs. She gave not over sighing and bewailing her ownmishap and that of Pietro all night, kn
owing not if she might hopeother than ill of him; and when it drew near unto morning, she heard agreat trampling of folk approaching, whereupon she arose and betakingherself to a great courtyard, that lay behind the little house, saw ina corner a great heap of hay, in which she hid herself, so she mightnot be so quickly found, if those folk should come thither. Hardly hadshe made an end of hiding herself when these, who were a great companyof ill knaves, came to the door of the little house and causing opento them, entered and found Agnolella's hackney yet all saddled andbridled; whereupon they asked who was there and the good man, notseeing the girl, answered, 'None is here save ourselves; but thisrouncey, from whomsoever it may have escaped, came hither yestereveand we brought it into the house, lest the wolves should eat it.''Then,' said the captain of the troop, 'since it hath none othermaster, it is fair prize for us.'
Thereupon they all dispersed about the little house and some went intothe courtyard, where, laying down their lances and targets, it chancedthat one of them, knowing not what else to do, cast his lance into thehay and came very near to slay the hidden girl and she to discoverherself, for that the lance passed so close to her left breast thatthe steel tore a part of her dress, wherefore she was like to utter agreat cry, fearing to be wounded; but, remembering where she was, sheabode still, all fear-stricken. Presently, the rogues, having dressedthe kids and other meat they had with them and eaten and drunken, wentoff, some hither and some thither, about their affairs, and carriedwith them the girl's hackney. When they had gone some distance, thegood man asked his wife, 'What befell of our young woman, who camethither yestereve? I have seen nothing of her since we arose.' Thegood wife replied that she knew not and went looking for her,whereupon the girl, hearing that the rogues were gone, came forth ofthe hay, to the no small contentment of her host, who, rejoiced to seethat she had not fallen into their hands, said to her, it now growingday, 'Now that the day cometh, we will, an it please thee, accompanythee to a castle five miles hence, where thou wilt be in safety; butneeds must thou go afoot, for yonder ill folk, that now departedhence, have carried off thy rouncey.' The girl concerned herselflittle about the nag, but besought them for God's sake to bring her tothe castle in question, whereupon they set out and came thither abouthalf tierce.
Now this castle belonged to one of the Orsini family, by name Lionellodi Campodifiore, and there by chance was his wife, a very pious andgood lady, who, seeing the girl, knew her forthright and received herwith joy and would fain know orderly how she came thither. Agnolellatold her all and the lady, who knew Pietro on like wise, as being afriend of her husband's, was grieved for the ill chance that hadbetided and hearing where he had been taken, doubted not but he wasdead; wherefore she said to Agnolella, 'Since thou knowest not what iscome of Pietro, thou shalt abide here till such time as I shall have acommodity to send thee safe to Rome.'
Meanwhile Pietro abode, as woebegone as could be, in the oak, andtowards the season of the first sleep, he saw a good score of wolvesappear, which came all about his hackney, as soon as they saw him. Thehorse, scenting them, tugged at his bridle, till he broke it, andwould have fled, but being surrounded and unable to escape, hedefended himself a great while with his teeth and his hoofs. At last,however, he was brought down and strangled and quickly disembowelledby the wolves, which took all their fill of his flesh and havingdevoured him, made off, without leaving aught but the bones, whereatPietro, to whom it seemed he had in the rouncey a companion and asupport in his troubles, was sore dismayed and misdoubted he shouldnever avail to win forth of the wood. However, towards daybreak, beingperished with cold in the oak and looking still all about him, hecaught sight of a great fire before him, mayhap a mile off, wherefore,as soon as it was grown broad day, he came down from the oak, notwithout fear, and making for the fire, fared on till he came to theplace, where he found shepherds eating and making merry about it, bywhom he was received for compassion.
After he had eaten and warmed himself, he acquainted them with hismisadventure and telling them how he came thither alone, asked them ifthere was in those parts a village or castle, to which he might betakehimself. The shepherds answered that some three miles thence there wasa castle belonging to Lionello di Campodifiore, whose lady waspresently there; whereat Pietro was much rejoiced and besought themthat one of them should accompany him to the castle, which two of themreadily did. There he found some who knew him and was in act toenquire for a means of having search made about the forest for thedamsel, when he was bidden to the lady's presence and incontinentrepaired to her. Never was joy like unto his, when he saw Agnolellawith her, and he was all consumed with desire to embrace her, butforbore of respect for the lady, and if he was glad, the girl's joywas no less great. The gentle lady, having welcomed him and made muchof him and heard from him what had betided him, chid him amain of thatwhich he would have done against the will of his kinsfolk; but, seeingthat he was e'en resolved upon this and that it was agreeable to thegirl also, she said in herself, 'Why do I weary myself in vain? Thesetwo love and know each other and both are friends of my husband. Theirdesire is an honourable one and meseemeth it is pleasing to God, sincethe one of them hath scaped the gibbet and the other the lance-thrustand both the wild beasts of the wood; wherefore be it as they will.'Then, turning to the lovers, she said to them, 'If you have it stillat heart to be man and wife, it is my pleasure also; be it so, and letthe nuptials be celebrated here at Lionello's expense. I will engageafter to make peace between you and your families.' Accordingly, theywere married then and there, to the great contentment of Pietro andthe yet greater satisfaction of Agnolella, and the gentle lady madethem honourable nuptials, in so far as might be in the mountains.There, with the utmost delight, they enjoyed the first-fruits of theirlove and a few days after, they took horse with the lady and returned,under good escort, to Rome, where she found Pietro's kinsfolk soreincensed at that which he had done, but contrived to make his peacewith them, and he lived with his Agnolella in all peace and pleasanceto a good old age."