Bovo of Altona

WE SHOULD PRAISE God eternally and proclaim His wonders, for He is revered and venerated by pious souls. He is powerful both on earth and in Heaven. His praise is unfathomable, no one can laud Him enough, for His praise has no end or cease. May His Holy Name strengthen me, so that I may succeed in completing this task of rendering an Italian book into Yiddish. May He help me to take great care and not miss out on anything, so that people won't laugh at me. Now lend me your ears and let's get going.

THEY SAY THAT long ago a duke with many fine qualities ruled Lombardy. This dear man, whose name was Guidon, had no equal far and wide. A great hero in all battles, he wore his crown honorably in a town called Altona. This was where he had spent his life, and he was now sixty. The Italian book tells us that the highborn duke had never married and had never been corrupted by women. But when he reached old age, he felt very cold, though he was warmly covered. No matter how much he was warmed, it wasn't enough, he was freezing to death. So his wise warriors said to him: “Your Grace, take our advice. Send out men to search everywhere and find a young, warm girl. She should warm you and take care of you.” The duke would have been doomed had he remained a bachelor any longer.

The daughter of the duke of Burgundy was chosen. The duke of Lombardy liked this girl, who'd be good for him. She was known as the beautiful Brandonia. Indeed, her beauty, which was beyond compare, was renowned as far away as Babylonia.

In many respects Brandonia had a wonderful life with the duke, who gave her anything her heart desired. Her days were fine—but her nights were awful. She warmed the duke in good ways—I can say no more. But at last the fun came to an end: beautiful Brandonia became pregnant and then bore a son by the grace of God. No one had ever seen a lovelier and more graceful boy than this one, whom they named Bovo—and you can imagine how delighted his father was. The duke asked his friend, Count Sinibald, to be Bovo's godfather, and the count obeyed. Deep in a forest several leagues from Altona, on top of a steep hill, Sinibald lived in Sansimon, the most fortified castle that anyone had ever seen.

The duke said to Sinibald: “Take my son, have your wife nurse him, and provide him with everything. And if he cries, have somebody sing to him.”

Sinibald took the young lord and brought him to his wife in Sansimon. She was very glad to nurse the baby, but she didn't know what else to do to with him. They watched him develop and grow strong and bold, and by the age often he had already overpowered two or three athletes. Sinibald taught him how to fence, to joust, to tilt, to parry. The boy wanted to kill and wipe out everyone—his mind was so swift!

Sometimes, together with four or five servants, he would ride over and visit his mother. But she didn't love him, she hated him because of his father. She couldn't stand the duke, she didn't feel the slightest bit of joy with him. Once, she began talking to herself: “Oh me, my parents have made me so miserable. May God give them both diarrhea. How could they have been so mean and given me that old fart! I'm going to think of some way out even if it kills me. I don't want to waste away here and turn moldy and rusty. I'm going to get a fine young man who'll feast with me just as I wish.”

Brandonia had a servant named Ritsard, who was very good at being evil. One day, Brandonia summoned him to the chambers built for her by the duke and she said to Ritsard: “If you promise not to betray me, I'll confide something very important and also pay you a thousand ducats.

But if you don't obey me, you'll regret it. I'll shout for help and tell them you tried to violate me—which will cost you your life.”

Ritsard replied: “Gracious lady, no matter what you ask of me, there's nothing under the sun that I won't do for you.” However, he had practically dumped in his pants and he was shaking as if he had a fever. “Once I get out of this ditch,” he thought to himse1f, “you won't throw me in a second time.”

Brandonia then said: “You are to go to France and visit a proud young hero, Duke Dodon of Maience. My husband once stuck a knife into his dear father's belly. Tell Dodon that I want to help him avenge his father's death. Show him this letter: I'm asking him to come to Lombardy so he can kill my husband. My husband has a menagerie in that forest, and I'll send him out to hunt. Tell Dodon to wait there with his men. He won't have a long fight or skirmish. Just tell him to do it right. Next, he should come here straight across country and capture the town. I'll scream and cry loudly—if I'm not laughing too hard. Then I'll marry him, we'll have the wedding very soon. And I'll be with him day and night—making up for lost time!”

Ritsard took his leave and rode away, carrying the letter. But then he thought of his decent master and loudly bemoaned what Brandonia was planning. He repeatedly felt like turning back, but the devil wouldn't let go of him. Ritsard's luck ran out as he rode on and finally arrived in Maience. He headed toward the palace, where he dismounted and tied up his young horse. Entering the hail, he gave Dodon Brandonia's message and her letter.

Dodon read the letter two or three times, then showed it to his wise counselors. Furious, he told his men: “Grab some clubs and beat the messenger! Throw him in the dungeon—the traitor must hang! I don't trust that conniving whore Brandonia! She thinks she can entice me there. They betrayed my father and now they're planning to betray me.”

Ritsard was terrified and he said: “Gracious lord, don't give yourself away. Please send out and investigate, and I'll come over to your side. If you find I've lied in any way, you can skin me alive.”

Dodon thought: “I'll run the risk. If he's lying, I'll find out. There's one thing that's believable: no young woman wants to have an old man.” He then said to Ritsard: “Hurry back and tell her to get ready, tell her I promise to help her.”

Ritzard went home and brought Brandonia the news. Now listen to what she could devise when she felt it was the right time. One Sunday night the Creator must have tortured and tormented her. She fell ill and she groaned and shrieked—no one could get her to stop. She was spewing out her very innards. Brandonia then said: “I'm doomed! I'm going to die! My mother wants to shatter my heart!”

The duke now came to her: “You dear girl, what's wrong?” He handed her the glass for tears and said: “My darling, catch your tears in here and tell me what you desire. I'll do anything for you. Tell what you want, and if it exists in the world, I'll get it for you.”

Brandonia replied: “If I dared bother you, I'd ask you for a very small favor. Go hunting tomorrow morning for some wild prey, which I'll eat in a soup or a stew. If you can do that for me, dear lord, I think I'll recover fully.”

The duke then lay down with her, and they conversed until dawn, when he quickly got out of bed and sent for his armor. He also ordered his servants to blow the trumpets since he wanted to go hunting with all his men.

Upon seeing this, Brandonia said: “Dear lord, please, don't wear your armor—I won't hear of it. You'll be too hot. You're not going to joust with anyone. And I also think you should take only two men along. That's enough company. Leave the others at home.”

The dear fool let her convince him. That very same morning the pious and honorable duke heedlessly rode out with only two men and with his hawk on his arm. Meanwhile Duke Dodon, the destroyer of the land, was concealed nearby in the forest, waiting with four hundred armored men, while Duke Guidon hunted with his hounds. When Dodon felt the moment had come, he and his men came charging out and they shot arrows that lodged in Guidon's flesh, inflicting deep wounds. The poor duke died on the spot. Next the invaders galloped into the town. “Dodon! Dodon!” they shouted as they burned and massacred.

When she recognized him in the distance, Brandonia hurried over and took him home—and he had to lie with her.

Loud weeping and wailing could be heard throughout the town, and many people shed bitter tears-burghers and aristocrats, rich and poor, merchants and shopkeepers. Why, even a rock would have felt pity. The townsfolk shouted: “Alas, alas! Our dear ruler!”

Many people wanted to get even and avenge his death. They grabbed their swords and spears, intent on killing the murderer. But Brandonia sent for them and spoke sweetly: “What do you want to start with us two? It's happened—make the best of it! The old duke, Guidon, may have shown you great trust, but take a look at my dear Dodon, the young, strong, proud giant. He's going to give you presents—fields and meadows and vineyards, and you won't have to pay any tolls or taxes or interest for an entire year. So follow my advice, pledge your friendship and your loyalty to Dodon.”

The townsfolk mused: “Why should we put up a fight? We'll keep our anger to ourselves.” Against their will and with deep regret, they swore their allegiance to Dodon.

Meanwhile, Bovo, terrified of the uproar, had concealed himself. Sinibald, his pious godfather, who had no idea where the boy had gone, was very worried. He combed the house all morning—every nook and cranny, and behind every vat and every sack. Next he searched every corner of the stable.

Bovo had lain down under a large manger, and when he heard his decent godfather, he quickly emerged and threw his arms around him. “Dear godfather,” said Bovo, “what's happened?”

Sinibald told him everything, including the bad news about his father. Next Sinibald hurried off to find the old noblemen who had kept their allegiance to Guidon. He told them to get ready and flee with him and Bovo to Sansimon Castle.

That night they stole away in three groups, weeping and wailing in the nasty rain. There were easily sixty men, one of whom was the traitor Ritsard, who had brought Dodon the letter. But none of these lords knew about his betrayal. In fact, they trusted him blindly, they didn't realize that he had changed and that he wanted to continue his treachery.

“We shouldn't wait any longer,” Ritsard mused. “I'm going to sneak off and find Dodon. I'll inform on them all, I'll make sure he has them arrested.”

Ritsard swiftly galloped back to town and told Dodon everything, naming every single man who had brought Bovo to Sansimon. Dodon was furious: “Just wait till I get my hands on them—I'll beat them to a pulp!” He then quickly spoke to his strong warriors: “Go and catch up with them! Goad your horses, dig in your spurs!”

They replied: “Gladly, Your Grace!” And they sped away like lunatics!

After his betrayal, Ritsard rejoined the conspirators: “Dear comrades, let me advise you. Ride slowly with the boy. What's the rush? You don't have to be afraid, we're safe, there's no one to be scared of.”

So they slackened their pace. But soon they glimpsed a large enemy battalion half a league behind them, it was galloping cross-country on both sides. Sinibald said: “We're in trouble! If we don't flee, we'll be done for!”

Ritsard said: “I'll go and find out who they are and where they're heading.” No sooner said than done. He whizzed off like an arrow from a bowstring, and upon reaching the pursuers, he said: “Step on it! They've spotted you! If you don't hurry, they'll escape!” Then he swiftly rode back—a cunning traitor.

Sinibald had a highly honored son, who was known as the strong Tirits, for he could fight ten men at once. Now, riding at the head of his comrades, he saw Ritsard hurrying to and fro, and it dawned on him that Ritsard was a turncoat. The son said to his father: “Didn't you notice? Ritsard has betrayed us. I can see his treachery—I want to kill him, by God!” Tirits dashed over and thrust his lance into Ritsard's belly. The traitor plunged down and bit the dust. His neck was broken, not a peep came out of him. His treachery was avenged—may it happen to all traitors!

After killing him, Tirits returned and said: “If you want to go to bed with a whole skin, then stay a league ahead of our enemies.”

The pursuers maintained their speed, and Sinibald's men fled on and on toward Sansirnon. Bovo, however, couldn't keep up. His horse was very high—too high for him! When he dug in his spurs, the horse reared and then kicked out. Bovo had to jump down and he fell on his back. The pursuers came racing over and they grabbed him. Meanwhile his comrades reached Sansimon and dashed across the drawbridge. When they realized they had left Bovo behind, they lamented loudly.

Bovo tried to remount his horse, but failed. Dodon's men captured the poor boy and carried him back to Altoria. After closing the gates, they were delighted to take him to Dodon and Brandonia. The two of them looked him over but hardly spoke. So we'll leave them for now and go back to Sansimon.

Sinibald and his men didn't want to wait. They galloped out of the castle, burning and catching and robbing and grabbing anything they could lay their hands on. This was the wise course to take. Otherwise they would have been doomed. They filled Sansimon with enough food and supplies for an eternitycattle, lumber, iron, as well as wine and oil and grain. Four hundred men were holed up inside-and the devil himself couldn't have stormed the castle.

Duke Dodon was furious: “I won't stand for that. I'll wage war even if it costs me all the territory that I've conquered!” Now Dodon had a highborn brother in France, a man known as the strong Alborigo. When Dodon summoned him, Alborigo came riding with a thousand lances. Next Dodon sent his brother and all his warriors to Sansimon, which they surrounded completely. But each man inside merely gave them the finger and stuck out his bare behind. Nevertheless they had to keep quiet and so the war dragged on and on, as you will hear.

After some three long years, Dodon himself rode out from Altona together with his lords and barons and he pitched his tent in the field. One night, when everyone was fast asleep in the battle zone, Dodon began shouting bloody murder. They all awoke, terrified, and Alborigo asked his brother what horror had taken hold of him. Dodon replied: “I have to laugh at it myself. I dreamed that Bovo came galloping over me and cut my throat.”

Alborigo said: “Listen to my advice. Your dream wasn't just a figment. I swear to you, brother, on my honor, you're going to have problems with that boy. You've got to get rid of him. Don't ask any questions; go tell hi mother that she should secretly kill her son.”

Dodon said: “Hurry and tell my wife about my dream. I'm sure that when she hears about it, she'll have her son exiled or even executed. She loves me too much to let the dream come true!”

Alborigo said: “I'll go gladly!” He rode into town and told Brandoni the whole business.

She was aghast, but she didn't want to argue with Dodon. “Tell him,” she said, “not to worry. I'll see to it, I'll take care of Bovo. Dodon won' have to go to confession.”

While Alborigo brought back her answer, Brandonia (may she be stricken with an awful disease!) tried to figure out a way of executing he son in secret. She finally hit on a plan and sent for Bovo on the spot. Upon entering, he said: “Mother dear, what is your wish?”

She said: “I felt like seeing you. Let's go for a walk.” Taking his hand she led him through several rooms and then locked him up in the last chamber. Since the poor boy was yelling and screaming, Brandoni wanted to make certain no one heard him. So she locked all the room leading to that last one and she hung two curtains over each door.

Bovo was extremely upset. He wondered: “When is this going to stop How could my mother have forgotten me here? I'd really like to eat, damn it!” He started shouting and he shouted loudly for three days and nights Brandonia, that evil woman, was afraid somebody might hear his yelling and she thought to herself: “I'll sneak a certain herb into his food, it will paralyze him. Why make him suffer for a long time?” She prepared some roast chicken and rubbed the herb into the meat. Then, summoning he old chambermaid, she said: “I've left my darling son all alone in a room. He's been there the whole day. Bring him this chicken and tell him to enjoy it. I've forgotten all about him, but ask him not to hold it against me.”

The chambermaid took the food and quickly brought it to Bovo. Upon unlocking the door, she found him sitting there, barely conscious, hardly able to talk, almost on his last legs. Crawling over to her, he grabbed the chicken with both hands and was about to shove a piece into his mouth But the chambermaid, who loved him for his father's sake, stopped him and said: “Dear boy, listen to me and don't eat even a morsel if you velue your life. Your mother has an evil goal, she wants to murder you. She' poisoned the chicken. If you eat it, you'll be sorry.”

The Italian manuscript tells us that a puppy dog had come running in the moment the chambermaid had opened the door. Tearfully, the chambermaid said to the boy: “If you don't believe me, I'll prove it to you.” She tore off a piece of chicken and fed it to the puppy, and before it even swallowed the food, its throat swelled up and it choked to death.

When Bovo saw that, he began to flail his arms about. “Oh, God! How awful! I'll make myself vulnerable! If I come out, I may be seen.” He broke into a run and dashed across the town, through muck and filth. Ignoring everything else and racing past the people, he headed for the town gates. His hair was tangled and his cheeks had lost their beautiful color; he looked so awful that no one recognized him.

Bovo walked through the gates and cut across the fields. No path was shown to him, no horse could have kept up with him unless it had been ridden by a giant. But then Bovo's strength began to ebb, and he sat down in a meadow. After resting briefly, he hurried on. Soon he reached the coast and he rested again. Every limb of his ached, and he was so hungry that he munched grass. Eventually he fell asleep on the shore. He slept all night, and no one woke him.

In this place, which wasn't so far from Scaivonia, Bovo slept for three hours into the day. All at once a large galley came sailing-this is absolutely true! She was coming from the Barbary Coast. A man on deck, who spotted Bovo lying on the beach, said to the merchants: “I can see somebody not far from here. If my eyes don't deceive me, he's been killed.”

Another man said: “Let's get him aboard. We can easily find out who he is.”

Four men sprang into the small rowboat and brought the poor boy back to the galley. He looked as if he were ready to be buried. Not a hair was stirring on his head; he was dead to the world. They tried to revive him with sugar and with herbs, and they rubbed his entire body with vinegar and medicinal water. At last he began to awaken.

Upon coming to, he was amazed to see the people who had resuscitated him. Peering around, he wondered: “Was I paralyzed? Or was I blind? How did I get into this galley? Did the devil carry me?” They told him where he had been and how they had brought him here. Bovo was now fully recovered.

These people made a great fuss about his indescribable beauty; they were very fond of the boy and took very good care of him, so that he quickly did whatever they asked. No sooner did they make a request than he fulfilled it, and he served all the merchants, singing cheerfully, joyfully, exuberantly. Now, since each man wanted to keep Bovo for himself, a battle royal broke out. One man said: “I saw him first.” Another said: “I revived him.” A third one said: “I carried him on my back.” A fourth one said: “I'd rather die than let any of you get him!”

They were ready to bash one another's heads in and they brandished their weapons amid shouting and mayhem. Bovo quickly grabbed an oar and, whacking so hard that it bent, he got them to lay down their weapons. The boy then said: “I swear to you, don't fight over me. Come to your senses, you decent men, and back off. Follow my advice and stay in one place. I tell you, you won't lose out. Just listen to me. I promise I'll serve you all until we reach a port, where you'll sell me as a slave and share the money equally.”

The men agreed to this settlement, Bovo got them to shake hands all around, and there were no more hostilities. They continued sailing, sometimes through a wind, sometimes in fair weather, and they all chatted with Bovo. He told them a lot of things, and they asked who his parents were and if he had any kith or kin.

Bovo replied: “The good Lord has punished them: they're poor and they live on charity in Nuremberg. My father is Hungarian and my mother is French. She left me to starve to death-she's a nasty piece of work. I was a nasty boy, I would have shit in my pants before I'd suffer anymore. So I ran away.”

The merchants laughed a good while, giggling into their sleeves. But then all at once, after another two or three leagues, a wild storm arose, and they hurried to reach land. Trembling with fear, they hoped to reach the port of Ancona. But then they were blasted by a horrible tempest, by wind and rain, thunder and lightning. Trying to save their lives, they dumped their cargo into the sea, and each man recited a blessing. Within a short time, they were pushed very far, with the water flooding in on all sides. The sail was shredded, the rudder was shattered, the water gushed all around, up to their backs—they were practically swimming. But then God brought them luck: in the middle of the sea, they saw an island, and so they moored the ship there, keeping it immobile. Nor did they spare a single straw.

Now the wind began to weaken, and when they saw that they were near a lovely city in Flanders, they steered in that direction. The city, Armonia, was ruled by a wealthy king named Arminio. The citizens sighted the galley and they fired signals. The king and his lords climbed to the palace roof and watched the galley as it drew near and then dropped anchor in the harbor.

Seeking a diversion, the king and his lords went down to have a look at the galley. The king chatted with the merchants, and they said: “Your Majesty, would you like to buy a boy? We'll sell him to you at a fair price.” Bovo was the boy they offered, and they displayed him to the king. Bovo had lovely hair and a peaches-and-cream complexion, and not a single defect could be found in him. The king inspected him front and back and had him trot to and fro, putting him through his paces like a horse that's up for sale.

And so, dear gentlemen, reflect on how a duke's son came down to such a low level. That's why no man should ever rely on land or money, for he never can tell what may become of him or what misfortune may afflict him. You see, the world is like a ladder: one man climbs up, the other comes sliding down.