THE TALE
Ther was, as telleth Titus Livius, a knight that called was Virginius, fulfild of honour and of worthinesse... There was once, as the Roman historian Livy tells us, a very worthy and honourable knight whose name was Virginius. He was rich and had many friends but only one child, a daughter. This daughter, however, was exceptionally beautiful – Nature had done a fine job on her, as though she had wished to say: ‘Look! I, Nature, can do this when I put my mind to it! I can fashion a creature as beautifully as this when I wish to. Who can equal my work? Not Pygmalion, that's for sure, although he might forge and hammer, sculpt and paint forever; nor Appeles nor Zeuxis even – they would all be wasting their time if they tried to match my colouring and my skill. He who is the Principal Creator has delegated to me the responsibility for performing His work; to form and fashion earthly creatures just as I like. Everything under the moon, which wanes and waxes, is in my care, and I ask nothing in return. My Lord and I are completely in accord. I have made this young lady in praise of Him, as I do all my other creatures.’ This is what I think Nature would have said.
This young maiden, whom Nature had obviously taken such a pride in, was fourteen years old. Just as Nature can form a matchless white lily and a perfect, red rose, so she had fashioned this girl before she was born, her legs, her arms and every other part of her body, in exactly the right way. Phoebus had dyed her hair in the colour of his glorious beams. And if her beauty was remarkable, then her virtue was a thousand times more so, for she lacked for nothing that was praiseworthy. She was as Virginal in spirit as she was in body, the very flower of humility, abstinence, moderation and patience, and she had more than her fair share of poise and good dress sense as well. She was modest in her opinions, although she was as wise as Pallas I dare say, but her conversation was always eloquent, feminine and simple; she had no need for convoluted phrases to make her words sound important. She spoke with the sensible fluency of a fourteen year old girl, and her conversation brimmed over with courtesy and virtue.
She was coy and modest like other girls of her age but not prone to tantrums in any way, always good-humoured, busy and eager never to give the impression that she was not gainfully occupied. Bacchus had no control over her mouth! Wine and youth make for a volatile combination, often to Venus’s delight – it's like throwing oil onto a fire. Often, of her own volition and without any prompting, she would pretend to be ill if any wild party or festival might otherwise prove difficult for her to refuse. Such wine-lubricated and amorous liaisons cause the young to grow up too quickly, which is a dangerous thing, as it was then. There is plenty of time for this young lady to learn about adult ways, when she is a wife.
You governesses, given the responsibility of educating the daughters of the nobility, don’t take offense but be aware that you’ve been employed for one of two reasons: either you are old maids or you are frail and decrepit although you once knew the old dance, but you’ve said goodbye to that way of life forever. So, for Christ’s sake, make sure that you spare no effort to instil virtue into your wards. A former poacher, who has renounced all his previous wrongdoing, can look after a forest better than anyone – so keep these young ladies well! If you have a mind to, you can, and make sure that you don’t allow them to fall prey to any of the vices, for you will be damned as traitors if you do. The most egregious treason takes place when the innocent are involved.
All you fathers and mothers as well, know that if you have children, then the full responsibility for them lies with you. Make sure that they don’t perish because you have set them a bad example or let them get away with too much unpunished; although I dare say, if you do, you will certainly pay for it in the end. The wolf has ripped to pieces many a lamb because of a weak and negligent shepherd. But this is enough. I shall continue with the story.
This young lady, whom my tale is about, was so virtuous that she needed no governess to look after her, and in fact she was a model to all the other young ladies around her, a walking exemplar, she was so generous and prudent. Word began to spread about this girl’s beauty and goodness until the whole land knew of it and rejoiced in it; except where envy had been allowed to fester untreated, which regrets anything good that happens to anybody and rejoices in sorrow and grief. (This is the physician's diagnosis.)
One day, this maiden went into the town with her mother to visit a temple, as was the custom in those days. Now it happened that in this town there was a magistrate who was the governor of the region. This judge caught sight of the young lady as she walked past the place where he was standing and his heart stood still. He saw that she was so beautiful that he whispered quietly to himself: ‘This maiden shall be mine, whatever any other man may say.’ At once, the devil entered his heart and convinced him that there were devious ways in which he might bring these thoughts to fruition and have the girl to himself. Certainly, he knew that no money could obtain her and he could not take her by force. She had many friends and was so confirmed in goodness and virtue that he would never be able to persuade her to have sex with him willingly. So having reflected upon all this, he sent for a rough fellow whom he knew to be cunning and to have no scruples. He told him how matters stood, in confidence, and that if he breathed a word about it to anybody else he would have his head cut off. When this had been understood and agreed to, the judge was delighted and made a fuss of the man, and gave him some expensive gifts.
When all their plans had been made and a conspiracy hatched, that by ruse and through a subtle ploy he would be able to force his lustful will upon this girl in a way that will soon be made plain to you, this ruffian, whose name was Claudius, went home. This dishonourable judge Apius – for that was his name, Apius, and this is no fiction but historical fact, a notoriously true story – this despicable judge Apius swiftly made all the necessary arrangements to bring about a successful conclusion to his dastardly plans as quickly as possible.
Not long afterwards, as the story tells us, Apius sat in his court of law, as was his habit, dispensing justice as he saw fit, when this hateful ruffian Claudius came running in shouting: ‘Lord, if it pleases you, give me justice in a claim that I make upon Virginius; and if he denies it, I can prove that it is true, for I have witnesses who will back up my petition.’
‘In Virginius’s absence I cannot give a definitive judgement,' replied Apius. 'Call him, and I will gladly hear the case. Justice, I can assure you, will be done.’
Virginius was called and arrived to hear what the judge had to say. Straight away he was read this cursed inditement, whose contents were as follows: ‘My dear lord Apius, I, your humble servant Claudius, bring to your attention that a knight named Virginius, against all law and fair-dealing, holds, against my wishes, my servant, who is my menial by right and who was stolen from me when she was a young girl. This I can prove by witnesses, to your full satisfaction. She is not his daughter, however much he may swear that she is. Therefore I ask you, lord, to restore to me my servant, if it should be your desire,’ Lo! This was what he said!
Virginius looked sternly at the ruffian and considered his reply, but before he could properly fashion incontrovertible arguments in his defence, as a knight, and summon numerous witnesses to testify on his behalf that what this churl was saying was a pack of lies, this cursed judge insisted upon bringing the whole case to a swift conclusion.
‘I order that this man shall have his servant back,’ he said promptly. ‘Virginius, you cannot keep her in your house any more. Go and fetch her and bring her into my custody. This churl shall have back what is his by right. This is my judgement.’
When this worthy knight Virginius realised that he had no other choice but to hand his dear daughter over to this judge to be assaulted and raped, her went home and sat in his hall, called his daughter to him and, with a face as pale as ash, looked lovingly into her gentle eyes with a father’s pity tearing his heart in two.
But he was resolute in what he had decided.
‘Virginia, my daughter,' he said. 'You have two choices before you: death or shame. Alas, that I was born! You do not deserve to die with a sword! Oh my dear daughter, I have found you such a delight to bring up; you have never been out of my thoughts and my life shall end with yours. Oh daughter, you are my final sorrow and in my life you have been my final pleasure, a jewel of chastity; but you must take your death calmly, for it must be so. You must die – out of love, not out of hate. My trembling hand must cut off your head. Alas, why did Apius ever set eyes upon you! This is the reality of the judgement he has made today.’ Then he told her everything that had happened, there is no need to go over it all again.
‘Oh mercy, dear father,’ Virginia cried when her father had finished speaking, and laid both her arms around his neck as she often did. Then she exploded into tears.
‘Oh good father, must I die? Is there no other way? Is there no other choice?’
‘There is none, my dear daughter.’
‘Then give me a little while to prepare myself and to make my complaint. Jephthah allowed his daughter time to complain before he killed her, alas! And God knows, she had done nothing wrong except to be the first to run to her father in welcome.’ Then she fainted.
When she had recovered again, she said: ‘May God be praised that I shall die a maid. Kill me, before I am forced to suffer this shame. Do what you wish with your child, in God’s name!’ But she begged her father to cut gently with the sword, and then she fainted again. He father, with tears streaming down his face, cut off her head and held it by the hair. He took it like this to the judge, who was still sitting in his law court, listening to petitions. When the judge saw the head, as the story tells, he ordered at once that Virginius be seized and taken away to be hanged. But immediately, a thousand people converged upon the Court of Justice to save this knight, out of pity and out of respect; for the dishonesty of these allegations had by now become widely known. Many people had had their suspicions from the way the ruffian had suddenly appeared and guessed that the whole thing was a fraud dreamed up by the judge himself, whom they knew to be a lascivious bastard.
The people seized Apius instead and threw him into prison, where he soon committed suicide. Claudius, Apius’s accomplice, was condemned to be hanged upon a tree, but Virginius, out of compassion, commuted his sentence to permanent exile; if he hadn't intervened the man would certainly have been hanged. Everybody else who had had a hand in this affair was hanged.
See how sin earns its rewards! Beware, for nobody has any idea whom God will choose to strike, nor how the worm of conscience may finally torment a wicked life, however private the misdeeds might have been, even if no one else knows about them except God. For whether a man is educated or ignorant, intelligent or stupid, he has no idea what horrors lie around the corner. Therefore, I advise you, take heed of this council: put an end to sin, before sin puts an end to you!
EPILOGUE
Our host began to swear very excitedly: ‘God save us! By nails and by blood!' he cried. 'This was a dishonourable churl and a despicable judge. May death come to these dishonest judges and their evil associates that is as shameful a death as can be devised.
'This poor, innocent maiden is dead, Alas! She paid too much for her beauty. Every day one can see examples of how a gift of nature or good fortune can bring disaster in its wake. In her case, her beauty was her downfall. What a pitiful end. Gifts of fortune and nature can just as readily bring trouble as they can profit. But truly, this was a heart-rending tale, my good sir. Nonetheless, we must let it go. It’s finished.
'But may God preserve you, my dear man, and all your urinals and your bed pans, your medicines and your infusions and every boxful of your potions. God bless them, every one of them, and may the Lady Mary bless them as well. You are a fine man, so may I prosper! By Saint Ronan, you are like a cardinal! Am I not right? I have no erudite phrases enough but I can say in all honestly that you have made my heart ache so much that I imagine I must almost have suffered a coronary occlusion, by the bones of the Blessed Body of Christ! If I don’t take a remedy at once, or at least a draught of some fine ale, or hear very quickly a merry tale, my heart will stop beating out of sympathy for this maid.
‘You, good friend, you Pardoner,’ he cried. ‘Tell us a funny story or a joke or something, for goodness sake!’
‘It shall be done, by Saint Ronan,’ replied the Pardoner. ‘But first, let’s stop here at this ale-house, for I need to have a drink and a piece of cake.’
‘No!’ everybody exclaimed. ‘We don’t want to hear a dirty story. Tell us something uplifting, some moral tale that we can all learn from, then we will gladly listen to you.’
‘Alright,’ said the Pardoner. ‘But I shall have to think about what I will say to you while I sip a beer.’