THE SEVENTH NOVELL

 

  WHEREIN IS DECLARED, THE SUNDRY TRAVELS AND PERILLOUS ACCIDENTS,

   OCCASIONED BY THOSE TWO POWERFULL COMMANDERS, LOVE AND FORTUNE,

                 THE INSULTING TYRANTS OVER HUMANE LIFE.

 

  Theodoro falling in love with Violenta, the Daughter to his

Master, named Amarigo, and she conceiving with child by him; was

condemned to be hanged. As they were leading him to the Gallowes,

beating and misusing him all the way: he happened to be knowne of

his owne Father, whereupon he was released, and afterward enjoyed

Violenta in marriage.

 

  Greatly were the Ladies minds perplexed, when they heard, that the

two poore Lovers were in danger to be burned: but hearing afterward of

their happy deliverance, for which they were as joyfull againe; upon

the concluding of the Novell, the Queene looked on Madame Lauretta,

enjoyning her to tell the next Tale, which willingly she undertooke to

do, and thus began.

  Faire Ladies, at such time as the good King William reigned in

Sicily, there lived within the same Dominion, a young Gentleman, named

Signior Amarigo, Abbot of Trapani, who among his other worldly

blessings, (commonly termed the goods of Fortune) was not

unfurnished of children; and therefore having neede of servants, he

made his provision of them the best he might. At that time, certaine

Gallies of Geneway Pyrates comming from the Easterne parts, which

coasting along Armenia, had taken divers children; he bought some of

them, thinking that they were Turkes. They all resembling clownish

Peazants, yet there was one among them, who seemed to be of more

tractable and gentle nature, yea, and of a more affable countenance

than any of the rest, being named Theodoro: who growing on in

yeeres, (albeit he lived in the condition of a servant) was educated

among Amarigoes Children, and as enstructed rather by nature, then

accident, his conditions were very much commended, as also the feature

of his body, which proved so highly pleasing to his Master Amarigo,

that he made him a free man, and imagining him to be a Turke, caused

him to be baptized, and named Pedro, creating him superintendent of

all his affaires, and reposing his-chiefest trust in him.

  As the other Children of Signior Amarigo grew in yeeres and stature,

so did a Daughter of his, named Violenta, a very goodly and beautifull

Damosell, somewhat over-long kept from marriage by her Fathers

covetousnesse, and casting an eye of good liking on poore Pedro.

Now, albeit shee loved him very dearly, and all his behaviour was most

pleasing to her, yet maiden modesty forbad her to reveale it, till

Love (too long concealed) must needes disclose it selfe. Which Pedro

at the length tooke notice of, and grew so forward towards her in

equality of affection, as the very sight of her was his onely

happinesse. Yet very fearefull he was, least it should be noted,

either by any of the House, or the Mayden her selfe: who yet well

observed it, and to her no meane contentment, as it appeared no

lesse (on the other side) to honest Pedro.

  While thus they loved together meerely in dumbe shewes, not daring

to speake to each other, (though nothing more desired) to finde some

ease in this their oppressing passions: Fortune, even as if she

pittied their so long languishing, enstructed them how to finde out

a way, whereby they might both better releeve themselves. Signior

Amarigo, about some two or three miles distance from Trapani, had a

Countrey-House or Farme, whereto his Wife, with her Daughter and

some other women, used oftentimes to make their resort, as it were

in sportfull recreation; Pedro alwayes being diligent to man them

thither. One time among the rest, it came to passe, as often it

falleth out in the Summer season, that the faire Skie became

suddenly over-clouded, even as they were returning home towards

Trapani, threatning a storme of raine to overtake them, except they

made the speedier haste.

  Pedro, who was young, and likewise Violenta, went farre more lightly

then her Mother and her company, as much perhaps provoked by love,

as feare of the sudden raine falling, and paced on so fast before

them, that they were wholly out of sight. After many flashes of

lightning, and a few dreadfull clappes of thunder, there fell such a

tempestuous showre of hayle, as compelled the Mother and her traine to

shelter themselves in a poore Countrey-mans Cottage. Pedro and

Violenta, having no other refuge, ranne likewise into a poore

Sheepecoate, so over-ruined, as it was in danger to fall on their

heads; and no body dwelt in it, neither stood any other house neere

it, and it was scarsely any shelter for them, howbeit, necessity

enforceth to make shift with the meanest. The storme encreasing more

and more, and they coveting to avoyd it as well as they could;

sighes and drie hemmes were often inter-vented, as dumbly (before)

they were wont to doe, when willingly they could affoord another kinde

of speaking.

  At last Pedro tooke heart, and saide: I would this showre would

never cease, that I might be alwayes where I am. The like could I

wish, answered Violenta, so we were in a better place of safety. These

wishes drew on other gentle language, with modest kisses and embraces,

the onely ease to poore Lovers soules; so that the raine ceased not,

till they had taken order for their oftner conversing, and absolute

plighting of their faiths together. By this time the storme was

fairely over-blowne, and they attending on the way, till the Mother

and the rest were come, with whom they returned to Trapani, where by

wise and provident meanes, they often conferred in private together,

and enjoyed the benefit of their amorous desires, yet free from any

ill surmise or suspition.

  But, as Lovers felicities are sildome permanent, without one

encountring crosse or other: so these stolne pleasures of Pedro and

Violenta, met with as sowre a sauce in the farewell. For shee proved

to be conceived with childe, then which could befall them no heavier

affliction, and Pedro fearing to loose his life therefore,

determined immediate Right, and revealed his purpose to Violenta.

Which when she heard, she told him plainly, that if he fled,

forth-with she would kill her selfe. Alas deare Love (quoth Pedro)

with what reason can you wish my tarrying here? This conception of

yours, doth discover our offence, which a Fathers pity may easily

pardon in vou: but I being his servant and vassall, shall be

punished both for your sinne and mine, because he will have no mercy

on me. Content thy selfe Pedro, replyed Violenta, I will take such

order for mine owne offence, by the discreete counsell of my loving

Mother, that no blame shall any way be taide on thee, or so much as

a surmise, except thou wilt fondly betray thy selfe. If you can do so,

answered Pedro, and constantly maintaine your promise; I will not

depart, but see that you prove to bee so good as your word.

  Violenta, who had concealed her amisse so long as she could, and saw

no other remedy, but now at last it must needes be discovered; went

privately to her Mother, and (in teares) revealed her infirmity,

humbly craving her pardon, and furtherance in hiding it from her

Father. The Mother being extraordinarily displeased, chiding her

with many sharpe and angry speeches, would needes know with whom

shee had thus offended. The Daughter (to keepe Pedro from any

detection) forged a Tale of her owne braine, farre from any truth

indeede, which her Mother verily beleeving, and willing to preserve

her Daughter from shame, as also the fierce anger of her Husband, he

being a man of very implacable nature: conveyed her to the Countrey

Farme, whither Signior Amarigo sildome or never resorted, intending

(under the shadow of sicknesse) to let her lye in there, without the

least suspition of any in Trapani.

  Sinne and shame can never be so closely carryed, or clouded with the

greatest cunning; but truth hath a loop-light whereby to discover

it, even when it supposeth it selfe in the surest safety. For, on

the very day of her detiverance, at such time as the Mother, and

some few friends (sworne to secrecy) were about the businesse, Signior

Amarigo, having beene in company of other Gentlemen, to flye his Hawke

at the River, upon a sudden, (but very unfortunately, albeit hee was

alone by himselfe) stept into his Farm-house, even to the next roome

where the women were, and heard the newborne Babe to cry, whereat

marvelling not a little, he called for his Wife, to know what young

childe cryed in his House. The Mother, amazed at his strange comming

thither, which never before he had used to doe, and pittying the

wofull distresse of her Daughter, which now could bee no longer

covered, revealed what happened to Violenta. But he, being nothing

so rash in beliefe, as his Wife was, made answere, that it was

impossible for his Daughter to be conceived with childe, because he

never observed the least signe of love in her to any man whatsoever,

and therefore he would be satisfied in the truth, as shee expected any

favour from him, or else there was no other way but death.

  The Mother laboured by all meanes she could devise, to pacifie her

Husbands fury, which proved all in vaine; for being thus impatiently

incensed, he drew foorth his Sword, and stepping with it drawne into

the Chamber (where she had bene delivered of a goodly Sonne) he said

unto her. Either tell me who is the Father of this Bastard, or thou

and it shall perish both together. Poore Violenta, lesse respecting

her owne life, then she did the childes; forgot her solemne promise

made to Pedro, and discovered all. Which when Amarigo had heard, he

grew so desperately enraged, that hardly he could forbeare from

killing her. But after hee had spoken what his fury enstructed him,

hee mounted on Horsebacke againe, ryding backe to Trapani, where hee

disclosed the injury which Pedro had done him, to a noble Gentleman,

named Signior Conrado, who was Captaine for the King over the City.

  Before poore Pedro could have any intelligence, or so much as

suspected any treachery against him; he was suddenly apprehended,

and being called in question, stood not on any deniall, but

confessed truly what hee had done: whereupon, within some few dayes

after, he was condemned by the Captaine, to be whipt to the place of

execution, and afterward to be hanged by the necke. Signior Amarigo,

because he would cut off (at one and the same time) not onely the

lives of the two poore Lovers, but their childes also; as a

franticke man, violently carried from all sense of compassion, even

when Pedro was led and whipt to his death: he mingled strong poyson in

a Cup of wine, delivering it to a trusty servant of his owne, and a

naked Rapier withall, speaking to him in this manner. Goe carry

these two presents to my late Daughter Violenta, and tell her from me,

that in this instant houre, two severall kinds of death are offered

unto her, and one of them she must make choyce of, either to drinke

the poyson, and so dye, or to run her body on this Rapiers point,

which if she denie to doe, she shall be haled to the publike market

place, and presently be burned in the sight of her lewd companion,

according as shee hath worthily deserved. When thou hast delivered her

this message, take he - Bastard brat, so lately since borne, and dash

his braines out against the walles, and afterward throw him to my

Dogges to feede on.

  When the Father had given this cruell sentence, both against his

owne Daughter, and her young Sonne, the servant readier to do evill,

then any good, went to the place where his Daughter was kept. Poore

condemned Pedro, (as you have heard) was led whipt to the Gibbet,

and passing (as it pleased the Captaines Officers to guide him) by a

faire Inne: at the same time were lodged there three chiefe persons of

Arminia, whom the King of the Countrey had sent to Rome, as

Ambassadours to the Popes Holinesse, to negociate about an important

businesse neerely concerning the King and State. Reposing there for

some few dayes, as being much wearied with their journey., and

highly honoured by the Gentlemen of Trapani, especially Signior

Amarigo; these Ambassadours standing in their Chamber window, heard

the wofull lamentations of Pedro in his passage by.

  Pedro was naked from the middle upward, and his hands bound fast

behind him, but being well observed by one of the Ambassadours, a

man aged, and of great authority, named Phinio: hee espied a great red

spot upon his breast, not painted, or procured by his punishment,

but naturally imprinted in the flesh, which women (in these parts)

terme the Rose. Upon the sight hereof, he suddenly remembred a Sonne

of his owne, which was stolne from him about fifteene yeeres before,

by Pyrates on the Sea-coast of Laiazzo, never hearing any tydings of

him afterward. Upon further consideration, and comparing his Sonnes

age with the likelyhood of this poore wretched mans; thus he conferred

with his owne thoughts. If my Sonne (quoth he) be living, his age is

equall to this mans time, and by the red blemish on his breast, it

plainely speakes him for to bee my Sonne.

  Moreover, thus he conceived, that if it were he, he could not but

remember his owne name, his Fathers, and the Armenian Language;

wherefore, when he was just opposite before the window, hee called

aloud to him, saying: Theodoro. Pedro hearing the voyce, presently

lifted up his head, and Phinio speaking Armenian, saide: Of whence art

thou, and what is thy Fathers name? The Sergeants (in reverence to the

Lord Ambassador) stayed awhile, till Pedro had returned his answer,

who saide. I am an Armenian borne, Sonne to one Phineo, and was

brought hither I cannot tell by whom. Phineo hearing this, knew then

assuredly, that this was the same Sonne which he had lost;

wherefore, the teares standing in his eyes with conceite of joy, downe

he descended from the window, and the other Ambassadors with him,

running in among the Sergeants to embrace his Sonne, and casting his

owne rich Cloake about his whipt body, entreating them to forbeare and

proceed no further, till they heard what command he should returne

withall unto them; which very willingly they promised to do.

  Already, by the generall rumour dispersed abroad, Phineo had

understood the occasion, why Pedro was thus punished, and sentenced to

bee hanged: wherefore, accompanied with his fellow Ambassadors, and

all their attending traine, he went to Signior Conrado, and spake thus

to him. My Lord, he whom you have sent to death as a slave, is a

free Gentleman borne, and my Sonne, able to make her amends whom he

hath dishonoured, by taking her in marriage as his lawfull Wife. Let

me therefore entreat you, to make stay of the execution, ill it may be

knowne, whether she will accept him as her Husband, or no; least (if

she be so pleased) you offend directly against your owne Law. When

Signior Conrado heard, that Pedro was Sonne to the Lord Ambassador, he

wondred thereat not a little, and being somewhat ashamed of his

fortunes errour, confessed, that the claime of Phineo was

comformable to Law, and ought not to be denied him; going presently to

the Counsell Chamber, sending for Signior Amarigo immediately thither,

and acquainting him fully with the case.

  Amarigo, who beleeved that his Daughter and her Child were already

dead, was the wofullest man in the World, for his so rash

proceeding, knowing very well, that if she were not dead, the scandall

would easily be wipt away with credit. Wherefore he sent in all

poast haste, to the place where his Daughter lay, that if his

command were not already executed, by no meanes to have it done at

all. He who went on this speedy errand, found there Signior

Amarigoes servant standing before Violenta, with the Cup of poyson

in the one hand, and the drawne Rapier in the other, reproaching her

with very foule and injurious speeches, because she had delayed the

time so long, and would not accept the one or other, striving (by

violence) to make her take the one. But hearing his Masters command to

the contrary, he left her, and returned backe to him, certifying him

how the case stood.

  Most highly pleased was Amarigo with these glad newes, and going

to the Ambassadour Phineo, in teares excused himselfe (so well as he

could) for his severity, and craving pardon; assured him, that if

Theodoro would accept his Daughter in marriage, willingly he would

bestow her on him. Phineo allowed his excuses to be tollerable, and

saide beside; If my Son will not marry your Daughter, then let the

sentence of death be executed on him. Amarigo and Phineo being thus

accorded, they went to poore Theodoro, fearefully looking every minute

when he should dye, yet joyfull that he had found his Father, who

presently moved the question to him. Theodoro hearing that Violenta

should bee his Wife, if he would so accept her: was over come with

such exceeding joy, as if he had leapt out of hell into Paradise;

confessing, that no greater felicity could befall him, if Violenta her

selfe were so well pleased as he.

  The like motion was made to her, to understand her disposition in

this case, who hearing what good hap had befalne Theodoro, and now

in like manner must happen to her: whereas not long before, when two

such violent deathes were prepared for her, and one of them shee

must needs embrace, she accounted her misery beyond all other

womens, but she now thought her selfe above all in happinesse, if

she might be wife to her beloved Theodoro, submitting her selfe

wholy to her Fathers disposing. The marriage being agreed on

betweene them, it was celebrated with great pompe and solemnity, a

generall Feast being made for all the Citizens, and the young

married couple nourished up their sweete Son, which grew to be a

very comely childe.

  After that the Embassie was dispatched at Rome, and Phineo (with the

rest) was returned thither againe; Violenta did reverence him as her

owne naturall Father, and he was not a little proud of so lovely a

Daughter, beginning a fresh feasting againe, and continuing the same a

whole moneth together. Within some short while after, a Galley being

fairely furnished for the purpose, Phineo, his Sonne, Daughter, and

their young Sonne, went aboard, sayling away thence to Laiazzo,

where afterward they lived in much tranquility.