Horse

The Horse appears in the Decameron less as an independent character than as an animal woven into the material and social machinery of human life: a mount chosen for beauty, a working creature cared for in a stable, a means of escape or pursuit, and an object whose exchange can open the way to intimacy. Across stories of kings, lovers, servants, and swindlers, horses carry people toward their aims, but they also expose how readily affection, status, and trust can be treated as things to trade. The mare in Dom Gianni di Barolo’s story sharpens this pattern into farce, as ordinary animal husbandry gives way to an absurd promise of transformation.

Mounts, Service, and Royal Life

In the story of Agilulf and Theodolinda, the unnamed groom’s work with horses places him close to the queen without narrowing the gap between their social positions. Theodolinda prefers to ride the palfrey in his charge whenever she has occasion to go out. He takes this preference as a personal favor and stays beside her stirrup, counting even the touch of her clothes as a happiness. The horse thus makes his service intimate in proximity but not in rank: he can attend the queen’s mount, not openly declare the desire that attendance feeds.

The groom’s love grows while he keeps it hidden, and he eventually uses his knowledge of the royal household to impersonate Agilulf. He studies the king’s nightly approach to the queen’s chamber, then copies his cloak, taper, and wand. Before entering, he washes carefully so that the smell of the stables will not betray his occupation. The disguise succeeds, but the horsekeeper’s bodily identity remains vulnerable to recognition: when Agilulf searches the household sleeping above the palace stables, he finds the groom by his still-rapid heartbeat. In this episode, horses are not merely background to the palace; their care defines the groom’s station, and that station nearly exposes him even after his borrowed royal appearance has deceived the queen.

Horses also make royal movement possible beyond the palace. In the story of Bernabo Lomellini and Ginevra, Bernabo sends a trusted servant to Genoa with two horses and a letter summoning his wife to a country house. Ginevra rides out with the servant, who has secretly been ordered to kill her on the journey. At a lonely valley he draws his knife, but she persuades him to spare her and exchange clothes instead. He returns to Bernabo claiming that the murder is done; Ginevra is left alive and on foot, able to disguise herself and depart. Here, the horse first carries a victim toward an intended execution, while the exchange of garments—not a change of mount—creates the possibility of escape.

The Palfrey as Gift, Bargain, and Opening

In Pistoia, Francesco Vergellesi’s need for a fine palfrey brings the animal directly into a contest of wit and desire. He is preparing to take up the provostship of Milan but cannot find a mount that suits him. The wealthy young Ricciardo il Zima owns one of the handsomest palfreys in Tuscany, and Francesco is told that the gift may be secured through the affection Ricciardo bears Francesco’s wife. Driven by covetousness, Francesco asks for the horse as though making a purchase, expecting Ricciardo to give it freely.

Ricciardo agrees to give the palfrey, but sets a condition: before Francesco takes it, he must be allowed to speak privately with the lady in her husband’s presence. Francesco accepts, believing he can protect his interests by instructing his wife not to answer. Ricciardo then speaks both for himself and in an imagined reply from her, turning a conversation with a silent woman into a staged declaration of mutual love. When Francesco boasts that he has kept his promise, Ricciardo points out that he has spoken only to a silent statue. The palfrey has changed hands, but the husband’s bargain has not given him the control he imagined.

After Francesco leaves for Milan, his wife recalls Ricciardo’s words and the horse he gave for her sake. She considers the long absence, her freedom at home, and the possibility of losing the opportunity through delay. She places two napkins in the garden window, the signal Ricciardo had invented in his imagined answer. He comes secretly that night, and their affair begins; he returns repeatedly during Francesco’s absence and even after his return. The palfrey’s transfer therefore does more than satisfy a need for travel. It gives Ricciardo a pretext to speak, supplies the wife with a memory and a signal, and becomes the price of an intimacy that Francesco’s own attempt to outwit his rival helps bring about.

The Horse Stolen and the Fortune Reversed

The episode of Cecco Angiolieri and Cecco Fortarrigo turns a planned journey into a cascade of losses. Angiolieri leaves Siena intending to improve his prospects by seeking a cardinal who is serving as the Pope’s legate in the Marches of Ancona. He has obtained in advance the money due from his father for six months, so that he can travel well clothed and mounted. Fortarrigo, a friend because both men are hated by their fathers, persuades Angiolieri to take him along as a servant despite Angiolieri’s reservations about his companion’s gambling and drinking.

At Buonconvento, while Angiolieri sleeps after dinner, Fortarrigo goes to the tavern and gambles away first his money and then the clothes he is wearing. He returns to the room, steals Angiolieri’s money from his purse, and loses that too. Angiolieri wakes, dresses, and prepares to leave on his palfrey, only to discover that he cannot pay the innkeeper. Fortarrigo arrives in his shirt, apparently intent on taking his master’s clothes as well, and pretends that someone has pawned his doublet. When a witness identifies him as the thief, Angiolieri rebukes him and rides off toward Torrenieri.

Fortarrigo follows on foot, still in his shirt, demanding his doublet. He then calls to husbandmen working beside the road to stop Angiolieri, presenting himself as the robbed man and Angiolieri as the thief. The countrymen believe the performance. With their help, Fortarrigo pulls Angiolieri from the palfrey, strips him, puts on his clothes, and rides away on the horse. Angiolieri is left barefoot and in his shirt; ashamed to return directly to Siena, he reaches relatives at Corsignano on a borrowed mount and has to wait until his father furnishes him anew. The horse is the visible prize in Fortarrigo’s reversal: Angiolieri set out equipped to advance himself, but the companion he had agreed to carry away with him turns the journey into a public dispossession.

The Mare and the Comic Invention of Transformation

Dom Gianni di Barolo’s mare belongs to the practical economy of a poor priest’s life. His small living does not suffice, so he travels among the fairs of Apulia, hawking and trading merchandise with the help of his mare. He and Pietro da Tresanti, a fellow trader who uses an ass, exchange hospitality as well as business companionship. At Pietro’s poor home, there is only one small bed for Pietro and his young wife, Gemmata; Dom Gianni sleeps on straw beside the stable, where his mare is lodged with Pietro’s ass.

Gemmata repeatedly offers to sleep at a neighbor’s house so that Dom Gianni can take her place in the bed, but he refuses. Instead, he claims that he can turn his mare into a beautiful woman and back again, and that he lies with her whenever he wishes. Gemmata tells Pietro, who believes the story and asks to learn the supposed charm. His request turns hospitality into an imagined opportunity to make Gemmata a mare and use the animals in the stable as part of his scheme. Dom Gianni tries to cure him of the idea, but finally agrees to demonstrate, insisting that Pietro must obey every instruction.

Before dawn, Pietro and Gemmata, who have hardly slept from anticipation, call Dom Gianni. He gives Pietro a light and warns him not to speak or the operation will fail. Gemmata must also remain silent as Dom Gianni strips her and has her stand on all fours. He touches her head, hair, arms, and legs while naming them as parts of a mare, then continues over her body. The ritual’s comedy lies in its false precision: an ordinary human body is redescribed part by part as an animal, while Pietro’s credulous silence is made a condition of the deception. At the final stage, Dom Gianni’s language of transformation gives way to a plainly sexual gesture as he attempts to attach the mare’s tail. No actual transformation occurs; the story uses the mare as the pretext for exposing Pietro’s gullibility and turning a stable-side boast into a farcical performance.