Tales from the Gesta Romanorum

by Unknown

THE TALE OF THE THREE CASKETS.

Centuries have passed since Anselmus reigned in Rome, whose empress was the fair daughter of the king of Jerusalem, and gracious in the sight of every man. Long had they lived happily together, but were not blest with a child, to comfort their lives, and to inherit their power and honors. And it came to pass that as the emperor walked in his garden, he bethought him of the constant wars of the king of Ampluy, his neighbor, who ceased not to trouble him, because he had no son to defend his dominions. And as he walked and mused, he looked on the moon, and fell into a trance, and dreamed a dream, how that the morning was very bright, and the moon looked paler on the one side than on the other. And then there flew towards him a bird of two colors; two beasts came and stood by the bird, and warmed the little creature with their heat. And lo, other beasts, mighty and terrible, came, and bowed themselves before the little bird, and went their way; and then followed these many other birds of bright plumage and sweet song, and they sang pleasantly, and waked the emperor.

Anselmus was troubled with his dream, and he called for his wise men, his nobles, and his counsellors, and told them of his vision, and sought from them the interpretation of his dream. When the wise men, the nobles, and the counsellors had considered of these things, they spoke cheerfully unto the king.

“Sire,” said they, “the vision betokens good to the empire, its glory shall be clearer than it is. The loss of color in the moon prefigures the loss of strength to our empress when a child is born unto you. The little bird is this child, our prince. The two beasts that warmed him, are the good and the great of our empire, who will give of their substance to sustain and cherish their prince. And whilst the other nations, mighty and strong, shall bow down before him, as the beasts did in the vision, so shall our people rejoice and sing with exceeding joy, as the birds sang sweetly and pleasantly in thy dream. Such, O king, is the interpretation of the vision.”

Exceeding glad was the emperor at these words, and his joy was the more increased when a son was born unto him, according to the words of the wise men.

When the king of Ampluy heard of the birth of the prince, he was afraid, remembering the wrong he had done to Anselmus, and foreseeing the vengeance he would experience from the prince when he should come of age and lead the armies of his father. So he turned his mind to peace, and wrote humbly unto the emperor. When Anselmus read the king’s letter he replied in peaceful terms, and promised him his protection and friendship, if he would give securities for his conduct, and acknowledge his sovereignty by a small tribute.

King Ampluy read the emperor’s letter to his council, and prayed their counsel as touching the matter. Then said the counsellors: “The emperor’s words are good, and to be obeyed. As for the surety that he asks; is there not to our lord one daughter, a maiden fair and goodly withal, and is there not to the emperor one son, a noble prince? Contract, therefore, marriage between thy child and his, that there may be a perpetual peace.”

The king obeyed the advice of his counsellors; he wrote their words unto the emperor, who received them gladly, and the marriage contract was signed.

So the king sent his child by sea to the emperor’s court. The ship was a great ship, with fair masts, and able pilots, glittering with gay pennants and costly ornaments, and it bore a goodly company of nobles, knights, and titled dames, with many and rich presents to do honor to the marriage of the maiden and the prince.

And it came to pass that as they sailed towards Rome, a storm rose, and drove the ship hither and thither over the waves, until she brake against a rock, and sank into the waters. And all they that were in her were drowned, save the daughter of the king, who put her trust in God and was saved. At length the storm abated, and the ship, broken and helpless, rose from beneath the waves and floated. But, lo, a great whale followed after the ship, to swallow up it and the maiden. So the maiden struck a light, and lighted a fire, that terrified the whale, which dared not to approach the ship for fear of the fire. At break of dawn, she fell asleep, for she was weary of watching; and as she slept, the fire ceased for want of fuel, and the whale came and devoured the maiden.

When she awoke, darkness was around her on every side, for she was in the belly of the whale; but she feared not, but struck with the stone until the fire came, and thrust with a knife into the sides of the whale, that he made towards the shore, for he felt that he was wounded.

In that country dwelt a noble, a servant of the emperor, who for his recreation walked on the shore the time the whale was making towards the land. When he saw the monster, he turned homeward, summoned his servants, and returning to the shore fought with the whale until it was sore wounded and like to die. And even as they smote the fish, the maiden cried with a loud voice from within the whale:

“Mercy, gentle friends; mercy on me, for I am a king’s daughter.”

Wondering greatly at these words, the noble hauled the fish ashore, and opening the side of the whale, released the lady from her prison. And when he heard her story, he pitied her sore, and took her to his own castle to comfort her until he could convey her to the court of the emperor.

When Anselmus heard of the maiden’s safety, he rejoiced greatly, and came to her, and had compassion on her.

“Fair maiden,” said the emperor, “sorely as thou hast been tried, and great woe as thou hast suffered for the love of my son, still must thou endure another trial ere thou be proclaimed worthy to be his wife! Let the caskets be brought hither.”

Then the king’s servants brought three caskets. The first was of pure gold, richly set about with precious stones; but within was full of dead men’s bones. On this was inscribed: “WHOSO CHOOSETH ME SHALL FIND WHAT HE DESERVETH.” The second casket was made of fine silver, filled with earth and worms; and its inscription was: “WHOSO CHOOSETH ME SHALL FIND THAT WHICH HIS NATURE DESIRETH.” But the last vessel was made of lead, and without was dull and useless; but within were precious stones. On this casket was written: “WHOSO CHOOSETH ME SHALL FIND THAT WHICH GOD HATH DISPOSED FOR HIM.”

Then said the emperor: “Maiden, look on these three vessels, they be rich vessels; if thou choose that wherein is profit to thee and to others, then thou shalt marry my son; but if thou choose that in which is no profit to thee or to others, then in peace return to thy father.”

The king’s daughter lifted up her hands to God, and prayed for his grace in the hour of her trial. First she looked upon the golden casket, and as she read the words of its inscription, she said: “Full, precious, and gay, art thou, O casket, but I know not what is within; therefore, dear lord, I choose not this.”

Then looked she on the silver casket, and its inscription, “Whoso chooseth me shall find that which his nature desireth.” “Alas!” said the maiden, “I know not what is herein; but this I know, that I shall therein find that which my nature desireth, even the wickedness of the flesh. Casket of silver, I will have none of thee.”

Lastly she looked on the leaden casket.

“Poor art thou, O casket, to look upon, and yet thy inscription giveth comfort; thou promisest, ‘that which God hath disposed’; and God never disposeth any thing harmful; by his permission, I take thee, O casket.”

Then cried the emperor: “Well done, thou fair and good maiden; open thy casket, for it is full of precious gifts. Well hast thou chosen.”

Then appointed he the day of the wedding; and the maiden and the prince were married with great solemnity, and with much honor among all the nation lived they until their lives’ end.

“Your title is, I think, perfected,” said Herbert.

“And yet there are those that can put in an earlier claim,” said Lathom.

“An earlier claim; how far back then would you carry it?”

“Nearly to the eighth century; one link between the East and the West. Damascenus, the Greek monk, who wrote the spiritual romance of Barlaam and Josaphat, makes the hermit Barlaam, late the king of a brother monarch, who commanded four chests to be made, two covered with gold, and two overlaid with pitch, and bound with common cords. In the former he placed dead men’s bones, in the latter jewels, gold, and precious ointments. He then gave his courtiers the choice; and when they chose the golden coffers, the king said: ‘I anticipated your decision, for ye look with the eyes of sense. To discern the good or evil that lies within, we must look with the eyes of the mind.’ Then he opened the chests, and showed his courtiers their error.”

“It is that kind of tale that would be most acceptable to all writers,” said Herbert.

“The general use they have made of it, in one form or other, is evidence of its popularity. Boccaccio has dressed it up under the story of The King and Signor Rogiero, and Gower has versified it, filling the unlucky chest with earth, stone, and rubbish, instead of men’s bones. To-morrow evening, I will give you some more instances of this kind of conversion of the old monks’ stories.”