Falcons

Falcons in the Decameron are not merely ornamental signs of a gentleman’s standing: they are trained birds woven into the practical and emotional business of hospitality. In the story of Federigo degli Alberighi, one falcon becomes the last possession he can give, and its loss turns an act of courtesy into a painful reversal. In the story of Messer Torello d'Istria, hawks belong to a larger practice of aristocratic sport, while his mastery of their training provides a route from imprisonment to service in Saladin’s household.

Federigo’s Falcon as His Last Treasure

Federigo’s falcon is described as one of the best in the world, and it is the sole valuable pleasure left to him after his courtship of Madam Giovanna has exhausted his fortune. Once renowned for arms and courtesy, Federigo has spent lavishly to win her regard; with his wealth gone, he lives at his small farm at Campi, endures poverty patiently, and hawks when he can. The bird therefore carries more than monetary value. It is his remaining diversion and, in practical terms, part of what sustains him in his reduced circumstances.

The falcon’s importance becomes clear when Madam Giovanna’s son, who has grown fond of Federigo and watched the bird fly, falls ill. Asked repeatedly what he wants, the boy says he thinks he would soon recover if he could have Federigo’s falcon. His mother knows both how dear the bird is to Federigo and how little he has left, but her devotion to her only child finally overcomes her reluctance. She resolves to visit Federigo herself and ask for it.

The Bird Served at Dinner

Madam Giovanna arrives with a companion, and Federigo welcomes her with sincere pleasure. The visit exposes the poverty he has tried to bear without asking help from anyone: he has nothing suitable with which to honor the woman for whom he once entertained many guests. He refuses to seek food from his laborer or another person. Seeing the falcon on its perch, he decides it is a dish worthy of his visitor, has it killed and prepared, and serves it at a table laid with the white cloths he still possesses. Madam Giovanna and her companion eat the bird without knowing what has been done.

Only after dinner does Madam Giovanna explain her request. Federigo weeps before he can answer, and she initially supposes that his grief is over surrendering the falcon. The reversal is more final: he has already given it to her as a meal. He explains that he had wanted to honor her with the best food he could provide and had judged the falcon worthy of her; then he shows her its feathers, feet, and beak. His generosity has fulfilled the spirit of her visit while making its purpose impossible. The prized bird cannot now be carried to the sick boy.

Madam Giovanna reproaches Federigo for killing so fine a falcon merely to feed a woman, yet inwardly admires the nobility that poverty has not diminished. She returns home without the bird and fears for her son’s recovery. The boy dies within days; the account does not establish that the loss of the falcon caused his death. Later, when her brothers urge her to marry again, she recalls Federigo’s worth. The falcon’s sacrifice thus remains bound to both a failed attempt to save her child and her renewed regard for the man who gave it up without knowing what she would ask.

Hawks in Torello’s Life

A different aspect of falconry appears in the story of Messer Torello d'Istria. When Saladin, traveling in disguise as a merchant, encounters Torello on the road from Milan to Pavia, the gentleman is heading with servants, dogs, and falcons to his country seat on the Tesino. The birds belong to a recognizable world of hunting and aristocratic travel. Torello offers the strangers lodging and arranges a supper; the next morning he takes them to a nearby ford and shows them how his falcons fly before guiding them to his own house in Pavia, where citizens have gathered to welcome them.

The hawks matter more directly after Torello is captured. He joins the Christian expedition to the Holy Land, reaches Acre, and is taken prisoner amid the sickness and mortality that overtake the Christian forces. Carried to Alexandria and not known for who he is, he turns, under constraint, to the skill at which he excels: training hawks. His ability brings him to Saladin’s notice, and the Soldan takes him from prison to serve as his falconer. Falconry does not itself secure Torello’s release, but it changes his position from an unknown captive to a valued member of Saladin’s household.

Saladin and Torello initially fail to recognize one another. Their connection is recovered while they are discussing hawks, when Torello smiles and makes a movement with his mouth that Saladin remembers from the earlier visit in Pavia. The birds’ shared subject provides the setting for this moment, but the recognition depends on Saladin’s recollection of Torello’s gesture. Saladin then reveals that he was one of the disguised guests, clothes his former host in royal apparel, and orders his barons to honor him. Torello’s expertise has helped bring him into the household where that recognition can occur; the return of hospitality, rather than falconry alone, completes the reversal.

Contrasting Uses and Significance

The two episodes give the trained bird different narrative functions. Federigo’s falcon is singular, precious, and irrecoverable: it is consumed because its owner wants to show hospitality, and its absence makes an otherwise generous act tragically mistimed. Torello’s falcons remain part of a continuing practice. His skill with them can be exercised in captivity, earns notice, and contributes to a story in which an earlier encounter is eventually remembered. One falcon disappears in a meal; the other birds belong to a craft that survives a change of place and fortune.

Neither episode treats falconry as an abstract emblem alone. The stories specify the circumstances in which birds matter: Federigo has no other fitting provision for his guest, while Torello’s knowledge gives him work when imprisonment has stripped away his identity and freedom. Their contrast joins material loss to practiced ability. A possession can be spent in a moment of generosity, as Federigo’s is; a skill can remain available when possessions and status are lost, as Torello’s does. In both cases, the birds bring human relationships into focus—first the distance between what a visitor requests and what her host has already given, then the bond of hospitality that survives disguise, captivity, and separation.