NOVEL IX.
Gulielmo Rossiglione gave his wife to eat the heart of Gulielmo Guardastagno, her gallant, whom he had slain; as soon as she knew this, she threw herself out of a window, and, dying, was buried along with him.
There being an end of Neifile's novel, not without the greatest compassion expressed by the whole company, the king, who meant not to infringe upon Dioneo's privilege, as there was nobody else left to speak, began thus: - I now call to mind a story, which, as you are upon sorrowful subjects, will move you no less than the last, as the persons concerned were of greater figure, and the event more cruel.
You must know, then, that in Provence were two noble knights, who had each of them castles of their own, and vassals under their subjection; one of these knights was called Gulielmo Rossiglione, and the other, Gulielmo Guardastagno; and, being both persons of great prowess, they took a great delight in military exploits, and used to go together to all tilts and tournaments, and appeared always in the same colours. Though they lived ten miles asunder, yet it happened, that Rossiglione having a very beautiful wife, the other, notwithstanding the friendship that existed between them, became violently in love, and by one means or other he soon let her know it. He being a valiant knight, this was not at all displeasing to her, and she began to entertain the same respect for him, so that she wished for nothing so much as that he should speak to her upon that subject, which in some little time came to pass, and they were together more than once. Being not so discreet as they ought to have been, the husband soon perceived it, and he resented it to that degree, that the extreme friendship he had entertained for Guardastagno was turned into the most inveterate hatred; but he was more private with it, than they had the prudence to be with their amour, and was fully bent upon putting him to death. Continuing in this resolution, it fell out, that a public tilting match was proclaimed in France, which Rossiglione immediately signified to Guardastagno, and sent to desire his company at his castle, when they would confer together about going, and in what manner; Guardastagno was extremely pleased with the message, and sent
word back that he would sup with him the next night without fail.
Rossiglione hearing this, thought it a fit opportunity to effect his design, and arming himself the next day, with some of his servants, he went on horseback into a wood about a mile from his castle, through which Guardastagno was to pass, where he lay in wait for him. After a long stay, he beheld him coming unarmed, with two servants unarmed likewise, as not apprehending any danger; and, when he saw him in a fit place for his purpose, he ran with his lance at him, with the utmost malice and fury, saying,
"Villain, thou art a dead man! "and the very instant he spoke the word, the lance passed out behind through his breast, and he fell down dead, without uttering a word. The servants, not knowing who had done this, turned their horses, and fled with all possible haste to their lord's castle. Rossiglione now dismounted from his horse, and with a knife cut Guardastagno's breast open, and took out his heart, and, wrapping it in the streamer belonging to his lance, gave it to one of his servants to carry. Then commanding them not to dare to speak of it, he mounted his horse, and, it being now night, returned to his castle.
The lady, who had heard of Guardastagno's supping there that night, and longed much to see him, finding that he did not come, was a good deal surprised, and said to her husband, "Pray, what is the reason that Guardastagno is not here?" He replied, "I have just received a message from him that he cannot be with us till tomorrow;" at which she
seemed very uneasy. As soon as he alighted from his horse, he sent for the cook, and said to him, "Here, take this boar's heart, and be sure you make it as delicious as possible, and send it up to the table in a silver dish. Accordingly, he took and minced it very small, dressing it up with rich spices, and making it a sort of high-seasoned forced meat.
When supper-time came, they sat down, and the dishes were served up; but Rossiglione could not eat much for thinking of what he had done. At last the cook having sent up the forced meat, he set it before his lady, pretending himself to be out of order, but commending it to her as a nice dish. She, who was not at all squeamish, began to taste, and liked it so well that she ate it all up. When he saw that she had made an end, he said, "Madam, how do you like it?” she replied, "In good truth, sir, I like it much." - "As God shall help me," quoth the knight, "I believe you; nor do I wonder that it pleases you so much now it is dead, which, when living, pleased you above all things." She made a pause at this, and then said, - "Why, what is it that you have given me?" He replied, "It is really the heart of Guardastagno, whom you, base woman, loved so well: be assured it is the same, for these very hands took it out of his breast, a little time before I returned home."
When the lady heard this of him whom she loved above all the world, you may easily imagine what her anguish must have been. At last she replied, "You have acted like a base villain as you are; for if I granted him a favour of my own accord, and you were injured thereby, it was I, and not he, that ought to have been punished. But let it never
be said that any other food ever came after such a noble repast as was the heart of so valiant and worthy a knight."
Then, rising up, she instantly threw herself out of the window. It was a great height from the ground, and she was in a manner dashed to pieces. He, seeing this, was a good
deal confounded, and being conscious of having done a base action, fearing also the country's resentment, he had his horses saddled, and fled directly away. The next morning the whole story was known all round the country, when the two bodies were taken and buried together with the utmost lamentation in one grave in the church which had belonged to the lady; and verses were written over them, signifying who they were, as well as the manner and cause of their deaths.
[Some commentators on Boccaccio have believed the tale to be taken from the well-known story of Raoul de Couci, who, while dying of wounds received at the siege of Acre, ordered his heart to be conveyed to his mistress, the Lady of Fayel: but this singular present being intercepted in the way, was dressed by command of the exasperated husband, and presented at table to his wife, who having incautiously partaken of it, vowed never to receive any other nourishment. But as Boccaccio himself informs the reader that his tale is given according to the relation of the Provençals, it seems more probable that it is taken from the story of the Provençal poet Cabestan, which is told by Nostrodamus, in his "Lives of the Troubadours." Besides, the story of Cabestan possesses a much closer resemblance to the novel of Boccaccio than the fiction concerning Raoul de Couci and the Lady of Fayel; indeed it precisely corresponds with the Decameron, except in the names, and in the circumstance that the lady stabs herself, instead of leaping from the window.
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WIKI Le_Chastelain_de_Couci
(catalán, català, catalá, castlán, castlà, castellano, etc )
Le Chastelain de Couci (modern orthography Le Châtelain de Coucy) was a French trouvère of the 12th century. He may have been the Guy de Couci who was castellan of Château de Coucy from 1186 to 1203.
Some twenty-six songs, written in langue d'oïl are attributed to him, and about fifteen or sixteen are considered authentic. They are modelled very closely on Provençal originals, but are saved from the category of mere imitations by a grace and simplicity peculiar to the author. The legend of the love of the Châtelain de Coucy and the Lady of Fayel, in which there figures a jealous husband who makes his wife eat the heart of her lover, has no historical basis, and dates from a late 13th century romance by Jakemon Sakesep.
The story, which seems to be Breton in origin, has been also told of a Provençal troubadour, Guilhem de Cabestaing, and of the minnesinger Reinmar von Brennenberg. Pierre de Belloy, who wrote some account of the family of Couci, made the story the subject of his tragedy Gabrielle de Vergy.
