[2] Another Aretine, of the Tarlati family, concerning whose death the early commentators are at variance. Benvenuto da Imola says that, hotly pursuing his enemies, his horse carried him into a marsh, from which he could not extricate himself, so that his foes turned upon him and slew him with their arrows.
[3] Federigo, son of the Count Guido Novello, of the circumstances of whose death, said to have taken place in 1291, nothing certain is known. Benvenuto says, he was multum probus, a good youth, and therefore Dante mentions him.
[4] Of him of Pisa different stories are told. Benvenuto says, “I have heard from the good Boccaccio, whom I trust more than the others, that Marzucco was a good man of the city of Pisa, whose son was beheaded by order of Count Ugolino, the tyrant, who commanded that his body should remain unburied. In the evening his father went to the Count, as a stranger unconcerned in the matter, and, without tears or other sign of grief, said, ‘Surely, my lord, it would be to your honor that that poor body should be buried, and not left cruelly as food for dogs.’ Then the Count, recognizing him, said astonished, ‘Go, your patience overcomes my obduracy,’ and immediately Marzucco went and buried his son.”
[5] Of Count Orso nothing is known with certainty.
[6] Pierre de is Brosse was chamberlain and confidant of Philip the Bold of France. He lost the king’s favor, and charges of wrong-doing being brought against him he was hung. It was reported that his death was brought about through jealousy by Mary of Brabant, the second wife of Philip. She lived till 1321, so that Dante’s warning may have reached her ears.
When I was free from each and all those shades who prayed only that some one else should pray, so that their becoming holy may be speeded, I began, “It seems that thou deniest to me, O Light of mine, expressly, in a certain text, that orison can bend decree of Heaven, and this folk pray only for this,—shall then their hope be vain? or is thy saying not rightly clear to me?[1]
[1] Virgil represents Palinurus as begging to be allowed to cross the Styx, while his body was still unburied and without due funeral rites. To this petition the Sibyl answers:—Desine fata Deum flecti sperare precando:—Cease to hope that the decrees of the gods can be changed by prayer.”—Aeneid, vi. 376.
And he to me, “My writing is plain, and the hope of these is not fallacious, if well it is regarded with sound mind; for top of judgment vails not itself because a fire of love may, in one instant, fulfil that which he who is stationed here must satisfy. And there where I affirmed this proposition, defect was not amended by a prayer, because the prayer was disjoined from God. But truly in regard to so deep a doubt decide thou not, unless she tell thee who shall be a light between the truth and the understanding.[1] I know not if thou understandest; I speak of Beatrice. Thou shalt see her above, smiling and happy, upon the summit of this mountain.”
[1] The question, being one that relates to the Divine will, cannot be answered with full assurance by human reason.
And I, “My lord, let us go on with greater speed, for now I mu not weary as before; and behold now how the bill casts its shadow.” “We will go forward with this day,” he answered, “as much further as we shall yet be able; but the fact is of other form than thou supposest. Before thou art there-above thou wilt see him return, who is now hidden by the hill-side so that thou dost not make his rays to break. But see there a soul which seated all alone is looking toward us; it will point out to us the speediest way.” We came to it. O Lombard soul, how lofty and scornful wast thou; and in the movement of thine eyes grave and slow! It said not anything to us, but let us go on, looking only in manner of a lion when he couches. Virgil, however, drew near to it, praying that it would show to us the best ascent; and it answered not to his request, but of our country and life it asked us. And the sweet Leader began, “Mantua,”—and the shade, all in itself recluse, rose toward him from the place where erst it was, saying, “O Mantuan, I am Sordello of thy city,”[1]—and they embraced each other.