All the listeners commended this solution of Isabella’s skilful enigma, especially Capello, who said: “Signora Isabella, Lodovica has given you back bread for your bannock,[[29]] seeing that a short time ago you very cleverly declared the meaning of her enigma and now she has mastered yours; but for this reason you must not harbour malice one against another.” Then Lodovica answered promptly, “Signor Bernardo, when the night time is come, I will pay you back yea for yea.”[[30]]
But in order to keep the discourse within limits, the Signora imposed silence upon all, and, turning her face towards Lionora, whose turn it was to tell the last story of the night, directed her to begin, with due courtesy, her fable, and the damsel, with the best grace in the world, thus began.
THE FIFTH FABLE.
Flamminio Veraldo sets out from Ostia in search of Death, and, not finding it, meets Life instead; this latter lets him see Fear and make trial of Death.
Many are the men who with all care and diligence go searching narrowly for certain things, which, when they have gained them, they find of no value, and would gladly forego, fleeing therefrom with all speed, just as the devil flies from holy water. This was the case of Flamminio, who, when he went seeking Death, found Life, who made him see Fear and make trial of Death. All of which you will find clearly set forth in this fable.
In Ostia, an ancient city situated no great distance from Rome, there lived in former days, according to the common report, a young man of a nature rather weak and errant than stable and prudent, whose name was Flamminio Veraldo. He had heard it said over and over again that there was in all the world nothing more terrible and frightful than Death, the dark and inevitable one, seeing that he shows pity to none, having respect to no man, however poor or rich he may be. Wherefore, being filled with wonder at what he had heard, he determined by himself to find and to see with his own eyes what manner of thing this might be which men called Death. And having attired himself in coarse garments, and taken in hand a staff of strong cornel-wood well shod with iron, he set forth from Ostia. Flamminio, when he had travelled over many miles of road, came one day into a certain street, in the midst of which he espied, sitting in his stall, a cobbler making shoes and gaiters, and this cobbler, although there was lying about a great quantity of his finished work, kept on steadily at his task of making yet more.
Flamminio, going up to the cobbler, said to him, ‘God be with you, good master!’ and to this the cobbler replied, ‘You are right welcome here, my son.’ Then said Flamminio, ‘What is this task you labour at?’ ‘I labour indeed,’ replied the cobbler, ‘and toil hard that I may not languish in want.[[31]] Nevertheless, I am in want, and I weary myself over making shoes.’ ‘Why do you thus,’ said Flamminio, ‘seeing that you have so many pairs made already? What is the good of making more?’ ‘I make them,’ said the cobbler, ‘to wear myself, to sell for my own sustenance and for the sustenance of my little household, and in order that when I become an old man I may be able to live on the money I have made by my handicraft.’ ‘And what will you do next?’ asked Flamminio. ‘After this,’ said the cobbler, ‘I shall die.’ ‘You will die!’ cried Flamminio in reply. ‘Yes,’ said the cobbler. Then cried Flamminio, ‘Oh, my good master! can you of your own knowledge tell me what may be this thing they call Death?’ The cobbler answered, ‘Of a truth I cannot.’ ‘What, have you never seen him?’ said Flamminio. To this master cobbler made answer, ‘I have never seen him, nor have I any wish to see him now, or to taste his quality. Moreover, all men say that he is the strangest and most terrible monster the world holds.’ Then Flamminio said, ‘At least you will be able of your knowledge to teach me and tell me where he abides, because day and night I wander over mountains and through valleys and swamps seeking him without ever hearing tidings as to where he may be found?’ The cobbler answered, ‘I know nothing as to where Death may dwell, nor where he is to be found, nor what he is made of; but if you go on with your journey somewhat farther, peradventure you will find him.’
Whereupon Flamminio, having taken his leave, parted from the cobbler, and betook himself onwards to a spot where he came upon a dense and shadowy forest, and entered therein. In a certain place he saw a peasant, who, though he had already cut a vast pile of wood for burning, went on cutting more with all his might. And when they had exchanged greetings one with another, Flamminio said to him, ‘My brother, what are you going to do with so vast a heap of wood as this?’ And to this the peasant made answer, ‘I am preparing it to kindle fire therewith in the winter that is coming, when we shall have snow and ice and villainous mist, so that I may be able to keep warm myself and my children, and to sell whatsoever may be to spare, and to buy with the profit thereof bread and wine and clothing, and all other things which may be necessary for our daily sustenance, and thus to pass our lives until Death comes to fetch us.’ ‘Now, by your courtesy,’ said Flamminio, ‘could you tell me where this same Death is to be found?’ ‘Of a surety I cannot,’ the peasant replied, ‘seeing that I have never once seen him, nor do I know where he abides. I am here in this wood all the day long taking heed to my own affairs. Very few wayfarers come into these parts, and I know none of those who pass by.’ ‘What then shall I do to find him?’ demanded Flamminio; and to this the peasant made answer, ‘As to myself, I know not at all what to say to you nor how to direct you. I can only bid you to travel yet farther onward, and then peradventure you may meet with him.’
Having taken leave of the peasant, Flamminio departed and walked and walked until he came to a certain place where dwelt a tailor, who had a vast store of clothes upon the pegs, and a warehouse filled with all kinds of the finest garments. Said Flamminio to him, ‘God be with you, my good master!’ and the tailor replied, ‘And the same good wish to you.’ ‘What are you going to do with all this store of fair and sumptuous raiment, and all the noble garments I see here? Do they all belong to you?’ Then the master tailor made answer, ‘Certain of them are my own, some belong to the merchants, some to the gentlefolk, and some to various people who have dealings with me.’ ‘But what use can they find for so many?’ asked Flamminio. ‘They wear them in the different seasons of the year,’ the tailor answered, and showing them all to Flamminio, he went on, ‘These they wear in the summer and these in the winter, and these others in the seasons which come between, clothing themselves sometimes in one fashion and sometimes in another.’ ‘And in the end what do they do?’ asked Flamminio. The tailor answered, ‘They go on in this course until the day of their death.’ Flamminio hearing the tailor speak of Death said, ‘Oh, my good master! could you tell me where I may find this Death you tell of?’ The tailor, speaking as if he were inflamed with anger and perturbed in spirit, said: ‘My son, you go about asking questions which are indeed strange. I surely cannot tell you nor direct you where he may abide, for I never let my thoughts turn to him, and it is an occasion of great offence to me when anyone begins to talk of him. Wherefore I bid you either to discourse of some other matter or to go your way, for all such talk as this displeases me vastly.’ And Flamminio, having taken leave of the tailor, departed on his journey.