Agilulf Discovers the Horsekeeper Impersonating Him
The DecameronAgilulf Discovers the Horsekeeper Impersonating Him turns an act of intimate deception into a contest of discretion: a horsekeeper gains access to Queen Theodolinda by copying the king’s habits, and Agilulf detects the imposture but refuses to expose it. The resolution depends not on public punishment, but on each man understanding what the other knows—and on the king choosing his wife’s honor over revenge.
Setting and the Horsekeeper’s Desire
Agilulf had established his royal seat at Pavia and married Theodolinda, the widow of Autari. The narrator presents her as beautiful, discreet, and virtuous. In the household serving her, one of the horsekeepers was low in birth but handsome, tall, and, as the story stresses, physically like the king. He fell deeply in love with his mistress, while knowing that his station made the desire unreasonable and gave him no grounds to expect her favor.
He kept his feelings secret, even from Theodolinda, and expressed them instead through service. When she rode out, she preferred the palfrey under his care, and he took it as a great favor to walk beside her stirrup and touch her clothes. His devotion therefore remained at once intense and carefully hidden: he could not hope to win her through speech or a declaration, so he began to contemplate a dangerous attempt to reach her by impersonating her husband.
Learning the King’s Way
The horsekeeper watched the royal apartments on several nights, hiding in the great hall between the king’s chamber and the queen’s. There he observed Agilulf’s routine. The king came to Theodolinda’s door wrapped in a large mantle, carrying a lighted taper and a small wand. He struck the door once or twice with the wand, said nothing, and was admitted; when he returned, he followed the same silent procedure.
The horsekeeper assembled the outward signs of that visit: a similar cloak, a taper, and a wand. Before attempting the deception, he washed at a bathhouse, taking care that the smell of the stables would not betray him to the queen. Then, when the household seemed asleep, he struck a light with flint and steel, lit the taper, and went to her door. The sleepy chambermaid took the light and covered it. The horsekeeper passed behind the bed curtain without speaking, removed his mantle, and entered Theodolinda’s bed.
He knew that Agilulf’s silence and manner of being troubled were part of the pattern he had observed. He therefore acted as though distressed and said nothing. The queen, deceived by his appearance and conduct, did not recognize him. After sleeping with her, he left quietly, fearing that a longer stay would turn his success into danger, and returned to his own bed.
Recognition Without Exposure
The horsekeeper had scarcely got back when Agilulf came to the queen’s chamber. Theodolinda, surprised by the king’s return so soon after what she believed had been his earlier visit, cautioned him about taking pleasure of her twice in such a short time. Her words immediately revealed that another man had entered the room under the king’s likeness.
Agilulf understood the deception, but did not tell Theodolinda what had happened. He judged that she had been tricked and had not knowingly received another lover. If he questioned her or openly accused the unknown visitor, he would distress her, invite further speculation, and risk turning the deception into public dishonor for both of them. Instead, he answered in a way that preserved her belief that he himself had made the two visits, then departed without disclosing his discovery.
The king’s concealment is an essential part of the event’s resolution. He is furious at the affront, but his anger does not dictate his response. A public investigation might expose the queen to shame even though she had not perceived the imposture; vengeance, in this account, could enlarge the harm it was meant to avenge.
The Mark and Its Countermeasure
Agilulf reasoned that the culprit belonged to the household and could not yet have left the palace. Carrying a small light in a lantern, he went to the long gallery above the stables, where the members of his household slept in separate beds. He expected the man who had just been with the queen to have a still-racing heart, heightened by exertion. Quietly feeling the sleepers’ breasts, he found that the horsekeeper’s heart was beating fast and identified him.
The king did not seize or question him. With scissors he clipped some of the man’s long hair above one ear, choosing a mark that would let him recognize the culprit in the morning. The horsekeeper felt the cut and understood at once why he had been marked. Before the household awoke, he found shears among the tools kept for the horses and clipped the hair of every sleeping man in the gallery in the same fashion.
At daybreak, Agilulf ordered the entire household to appear before the palace doors were opened. Looking over the men’s uncovered heads, he saw that many bore the same clipped mark. The horsekeeper had turned an individual sign into a shared one: the king could no longer single out the culprit without creating a disturbance and risking disclosure.
A Silent Warning
Agilulf recognized the intelligence behind the countermeasure. Rather than have the household beaten, tortured, or interrogated—and thereby make the concealed event a subject of public knowledge—he addressed everyone with a warning that the person responsible should not do it again, then dismissed them in peace. The other men did not understand the purpose of his words; the horsekeeper alone knew that the king had discovered him and was sparing him.
He kept the secret for the rest of Agilulf’s life and never again risked such an attempt. The story’s final balance is consequently unusual: the horsekeeper escapes immediate punishment, but his success does not become a repeated license. The king preserves Theodolinda’s reputation and contains the household scandal; the horsekeeper, having understood the warning, withdraws from further danger. Pampinea’s tale makes the encounter a demonstration of how perception and restraint can succeed where force would only advertise the injury.