FORTUNATUS

I. With the Count of Flanders

The Kingdom of Cyprus[1] is an island situated close to where the sun rises from the sea: a delightful, merry, fertile island, full of all kinds of fruits, and known to many who have landed and passed some time there on their journey to Jerusalem, in the Holy Land. It contains a splendid city, Famagusta, which was once the seat of a noble burgher of ancient lineage. His parents had left him much money and property, so that he was very rich and powerful; but he was also very young and of a careless disposition. He had taken but little notice of how his parents had saved and increased their money, and his mind was wholly preoccupied with the pursuit of honour and physical pleasures. So he maintained himself in great state, jousting, tourneying and travelling around with the King’s Court, and losing much money thereby. His friends, soon noticing that he was in danger of losing more than his means could bear, thought of giving him a wife, in the hope that she would curb his expenditure. When they suggested this to him, he was highly pleased, and he promised to follow their advice; and so they began to search for a suitable spouse.

Now there was a noble burgher in the city of Nicosia, the capital of Cyprus, where the King usually held court. This burgher had a beautiful daughter called Graciana, and she was married to the youth, Theodore, with no inquiries made as to what kind of a man he was – such was his reputation for wealth and power. The maiden was brought to him in great splendour, and a spectacular wedding took place – it being the custom for the rich to make especial display of their wealth and magnificence on such occasions. When the wedding festivities were over, and the guests had returned to their homes, Theodore took the maiden to wife and lived with her in great happiness and virtue, to the deep satisfaction of his friends, who believed that they had performed a virtuous deed by taming the wild Theodore with a wife – for they did not realise how difficult it is to change one’s nature. In time, Graciana became pregnant, and she gave birth to a son before a year had followed the wedding, to the delight of all around her. This son was baptised and christened Fortunatus.

But Theodore began to revert to his old habits: jousting, riding with a large retinue, buying expensive horses, and frequenting the King’s Court; and he left his wife and child on their own without so much as a by-your-leave. One day he would sell a tithe, the next day he would pawn a landed property; and he did this so often that in time he had nothing left to sell or hock. Having completely wasted the time of his youth, he became so poor that he could no longer retain a servant or a maid, and the good lady Graciana had to cook and wash herself, like a poor serving-woman.

And one day, they were sitting at table, about to eat, and willing enough to be merry if they had the means. The son sat before the father, and the father looked at the son in great earnest; and he began to sigh from the bottom of his heart, for his son was now nearly eighteen years old and could barely read or write a name. He was, however, skilled at hawking and all the other arts of hunting, and these served as his pastime.

“Dear father, what is wrong?” he asked. “Why are you so sad? I’ve noticed that you become sad when you look at me. So I beg you, father, to tell me if I’ve angered you in any way? Or don’t I live my life as you would wish? Please let me know, for I want to live as you would wish me to.”

“My dear son,” said the father, “my grief is no fault of yours. Nor can I blame anyone else; for the pain and troubles I must endure are all of my own making. When I think of the honour and possessions that were mine – and which I have so wastefully squandered! My parents had faithfully saved them for me, and I should have followed their example, for the dignity of our lineage. But I did not do that; so when I look at you, and reflect that I can neither help nor advise you, I am troubled with such a heavy burden that I can find neither rest nor relief by day or night. Also, there is my abandonment by those with whom I so generously shared my all; I am no longer a worthy guest in their eyes.” And so he complained of his lot with a heavy heart.

The son was disturbed by his father’s distress and said: “Oh, dear father, don’t feel so sad, and stop worrying about me. I’m young, strong and healthy, I’ll seek service in a foreign land. There’s a lot of happiness in the world, and I hope to God to find my share. You have a graceful master in our King, and if you serve him well, he won’t abandon you or my mother, not before the end of your days. And don’t be ashamed of what necessity compels you to do. Don’t worry about me, you and my mother have done enough for me by bringing me up. For that, I thank you greatly, and I’ll pray to God for you for the rest of my life.”

With these words he stood up, took his hawk, and walked out of the house. At the sea-shore he considered what he could do to stop himself being a burden to his father. And as he walked to and fro along the shore, he noticed a galley in port; this galley was from Venice, and it contained pilgrims who had travelled to Jerusalem, including the Count of Flanders, two of whose servants had died during the journey. The Count had no further business with the King, and the patron[2] was ready to leave – the horn was being sounded to summon all passengers on board, for the galley was about to set sail –, so he and many other noblemen were heading towards the ship in time to embark. Seeing this, the dispirited Fortunatus thought: ‘If I could only find service with this lord, and travel so far with him that I shall never return to Cyprus – I’ll ask him if he needs a servant.’ Then he walked towards the group and, doffing his hat, bowed very gracefully, by which the Count could see that he was no peasant’s son.

“Merciful lord, I have heard that Your Grace has lost servants – does Your Grace not require another one?”

“What are your skills?” replied the Count.

“I can hunt and hawk, and I know all the other skills of the wood. I can also ride a horse and handle arms.”

“You would certainly be suitable – but I come from a distant land, and I fear you would not wish to leave Cyprus.”

Fortunatus replied: “Gracious lord, you could not travel so far that I would not wish it were four times the distance.”

“What wages must I give you?”

“Gracious lord, you must give me nothing. As I serve, so reward me.”

The Count was very pleased with the youth’s words and said: “The galley will depart immediately. Are you ready?”

Fortunatus cried, “Yes, lord!,” then he threw the hawk perched on his hand into the air, and let it fly away. Thus did he step into the galley as the Count’s servant, without the blessing or leave of his mother and father, and with little money. He left the land behind and, with a following wind, arrived in a short time in Venice. The Count, having previously seen the sights, did not wish to remain there, for he desired to be back home among his friends. It had also been his intention, if God’s help enabled him to return from Jerusalem, to marry the daughter of the Duke of Cleves, a young and very beautiful girl; and all the arrangements had been made, pending his return. Therefore his desire to return home burnt all the more fiercely; so he equipped himself, and bought horses, beautiful gold jewels and velvet garments, and everything else required for a prestigious wedding. Although the Count had many servants, only Fortunatus could speak Italian; and he being highly skilled at bargaining with the merchants, the Count was greatly pleased and grew very fond of him. Noting his master’s favour, Fortunatus applied himself with ever-increasing industry to his service. He was always the last with his lord at night, and the first by his bed in the morning; the Count took note of this dedication, and when he discovered that some of the new horses he was dividing among his servants were ill and worthless (as is usually the case whenever a large number of horses are sold), he made sure that Fortunatus received one of the best. This greatly annoyed the other servants, who began to hate the youth. “Just look!” they would whisper to one another, “the Devil has shit this Italian on us.” For they all believed that, because he could speak Italian, he was a native of that country – although he was by birth a Greek. Nevertheless, they had no choice but to watch him as he rode with their lord, and no one dared to criticise or slander him before the Count.

Now the Count arrived home in great joy, to an honourable reception from his people, for he was very dear to them, being a God-fearing Count who loved his subjects. And as he stepped ashore, his good friends and liegemen came and received him handsomely, praising God that he had completed such a blessed journey; then they began to speak with him about the wedding. With a broad smile he requested them to lose no time in making the final arrangements; and several days later, he was married to the Duke of Cleves’ daughter. A great and sumptuous wedding festival was held, about which much could be written, for many princes and lords came to attend. There were fiercely competitive jousts, and other knightly exercises, all performed before the beautiful noble ladies whom the princes and lords had brought along. Now, however many pages or other servants these noblemen had brought in attendance to the wedding, not one of them gave greater pleasure to lords and ladies – in service and carriage – than Fortunatus. When they asked the Count where his courteous servant came from, he replied that he had met him when returning from Jerusalem, and he told them how Fortunatus was so skilled a hunter that the birds in the air and the beasts in the wood were all afraid of him; moreover, he knew how to serve, and how to respect each person’s rank. These commendations induced many princes and lords and ladies to present Fortunatus with gifts.

Once the princes and lords had finished jousting, the Duke of Cleves and his son-in-law the Count decided to award two prizes to the lords’ servants in attendance; these were to divide into four groups, two of which would joust for the first prize on one day, and the other two for the remaining prize on the following day, each prize being worth 100 crowns. The servants were pleased, and they harboured hopes of winning the money. There were 80 of them in all, so 40 fought on each day, among them Fortunatus, who carried with him his lord’s blessing. On the first day, one of the Duke of Brabant’s servants, Timothy, won the prize; and Fortunatus was the victor the day after. When his fellow-jousters and the far more numerous group of non-combatants saw this, they were deeply displeased, and to a man they asked Timothy to challenge Fortunatus to a joust and set his winnings against the “Italian’s”; they would all and severally be in his debt. Timothy simply could not refuse the request of so many good companions, and he duly challenged Fortunatus to a contest for the overall prize, who did not hesitate to agree. The lords heard of this contest with great pleasure.

And so they armed themselves at once and went to the combat-ground. The joust began: each rode manfully at the other until, on the fourth joust, Fortunatus sent Timothy sprawling the length of a lance behind his horse, and so won the 200 crowns. Then, for the first time, real envy and hatred were aroused, especially among the Count of Flanders’ servants; but the Count was delighted that one of his servants had been victorious, and he thought that all of his retinue would share this delight and prefer their companion’s victory to that of a stranger. For he knew nothing of the hatred his servants bore Fortunatus, nor did anyone dare to tell him.

Now among these servants there was an old, cunning man called Rupert. He told his fellows that, for 10 crowns in ready money, he would undertake to cause Fortunatus to ride hurriedly away of his own accord, without taking leave of his lord or anyone else; and he would do this in such a fashion that none of the servants would fall under suspicion. As one, they cried: “Oh Rupert, if you can do that, what are you waiting for?” He replied: “I cannot do it without money. Let everyone hand me half a crown, and if I do not get rid of him, I’ll give each of you a whole crown in return.” They all readily agreed, and those who did not have any money at hand