Now, fellow pilgrims, answer this riddle. Which one of these gentlemen was the most generous? Let me know before we ride any further, will you?

Heere is ended the Frankeleyns Tale

The Physician’s Tale

Heere folweth the Phisiciens Tale

There was, a Roman historian tells us, a knight called Virginius. He was a worthy and honourable man, with plenty of money and plenty of friends. He had only one daughter, however, a beautiful girl without equal in the whole world. Dame Nature had formed and moulded her with such care that it was as if she were ready to proclaim, ‘Look at my work here. I, Nature, have created a perfect creature in exactly the manner I wished. Who could counterfeit this beauty? Who could possibly imitate it? Pygmalion himself could do no better, even though he laboured at his forge or at his easel. Apelles and Zeuxis would do a whole lot worse, however well they tried to use their pen or brush. No sculptor could match me, either. God above has given me the power to make and unmake all the creatures of the world. I am His representative on earth. I can paint and play just as I please. All things under the moon are susceptible to my sway. I ask nothing for my work, of course. I am in perfect agreement with my superior in heaven. I do all things in honour of Him above. That is why I made this perfect beauty.’ That, I imagine, is what the dame would say.

This girl, in which Nature took such delight, was just fourteen years old. Just as the dame can paint the lily white, and bestow the blush of pink upon the rose, so did she apply her skill to the little limbs of the infant before she was born. The sun turned her hair golden, like the rays of the morning. Even so, she was a thousand times more virtuous than she was beautiful. There was nothing lacking in her, nothing I cannot praise. She was chaste in body and in soul. She was a virgin in spirit as well as in flesh; she was humble and patient, never straying from the path of virtue. She was always sober and respectful in conversation, too, and although she may have been as wise as Pallas Athene she was measured in her speech. She did not put on airs and graces. She never tried to be clever. She was the perfect female, in other words, always evincing modesty and grace. She busied herself with her womanly tasks, hating sloth and idleness before all else. She did not pay homage to Bacchus, either. She knew well enough that wine, as well as youth, can provoke excitement. You do not throw oil or fat upon the fire. There were times, in fact, when she feigned illness in order to escape vain company; she was uneasy at feasts and parties and dances, where there were bound to be intrigues and amours. Those are occasions when youths, little more than children, grow up too fast. It is dangerous for them, as all experience tells us. She will be mature enough when she becomes a woman and a wife. Not before then.

There may be some of a certain age among you here, who are governesses to young girls. Don’t take anything amiss. I am only telling you the truth. You have been chosen to instruct the daughters of noble families for two reasons, as you well know. Either you have kept your chastity and set a good example, or you have fallen into sin and know all the signs of frailty. You know the old dance, and have forsaken it for ever. So, for God’s sake, teach your charges to stay out of trouble. A poacher is the best gamekeeper, after all. A thief knows how to secure his own house. So keep them safe. You know best how to do it. Do not wink at any vice, lest you yourself be damned for wickedness. Then you would be a traitor to the whole household. Of all the sins in the world, the worst is the betrayal of innocence. It is unforgivable.

And listen, mothers and fathers, I am addressing you also. You must safeguard and defend all of the children in your care. Be careful not to give them a bad example. Make sure that you chastise them properly. Otherwise, they are lost. You will pay dearly for their sins, I can assure you of that. The careless shepherd loses many sheep; the wolf comes out of the wood, and destroys the lambs. I could think of other examples, but I must get on with my story.

This young maiden, Virginia, did not need any governess to teach her virtue. Her own life was itself a study in virtue, a book of goodness in which every page set an example to modest virgins. She was so honest and prudent that her fame spread throughout the country, where she was acclaimed for her beauty as well as her graciousness. All that loved virtue also loved her. Of course there were certain envious people who resented her happiness and wished her nothing but misfortune or tragedy. Saint Augustine has described those miscreants very well.

So Virginia went into town one day, with her mother, in order to visit one of the temples there. That was the custom. It so happened that the town magistrate, who was also the governor of the region, caught sight of her as she walked past him. He could not help but notice her. His heart beat faster. He was at once infatuated with her beauty. And he said to himself, ‘I want her, and I will have her!’

So the foul fiend entered him, whispering to him that he might take this young girl by trickery and deceit. He would not get her by force, or with money. They would do no good. She had many friends, after all. She was also well defended by her own virtue that would never allow her to surrender to him. So, after much thought, he sent for a man of low degree living in the town; he knew this man to be a subtle and bold villain ready for anything. In the utmost secrecy he told this man the story of his lust, and confided in him his plans. ‘If you repeat this to anyone,’ he said, ‘you will lose your head.’ When the man agreed to help him, the judge was delighted. He showered gifts upon him.

So between them they hatched a conspiracy to take the virginity of the young girl. It was an elaborate plan, which I will explain to you in a moment. The judge’s name was Appius, by the way. He is well known in the history books. I am not making this up. The churl’s name was Claudius. So Claudius went back to his humble home, and Appius returned full of anticipation for the delights in store. He could not wait.

A day or two later this false judge was sitting in his courtroom, giving his verdict on various cases, when Claudius came before him and stood in the well of the court. ‘I seek justice,’ he said, ‘I have a petition. I am filing a suit against Virginius.’ He was the father of the girl, if you remember. ‘If he denies the charge, then I will bring evidence against him. Do me justice, sir. I have truth on my side.’

The judge pretended to reflect upon the matter. ‘In the absence of the defendant,’ he said, ‘I cannot come to a definitive judgment. Call him to the stand. Then you will get your justice.’

So Virginius was brought before the judge, and the following accusation was read out to him. ‘Heretofore and hence-forward I will right aptly show you, sir judge, that the defendant has willingly and maliciously done wrong to your plaintiff Claudius. To wit, that against all equity and all law and all feeling this defendant stole from me under cover of night and darkness one of my servants, bound to me by duty and obligation. She was very young at the time. I also declare that this defendant did willingly and maliciously claim this young girl to be his lawful daughter. I will bring forward witnesses to testify on my behalf, sir judge. Whatever he says, the young maid is not his daughter. Return her to me, sir, and uphold the law.’

Virginius looked with horror upon this villain. Of course he was ready to swear that Virginia was his child. He would have proved it in trial by battle, as suits a knight. He would have brought forward witnesses, too, to testify that the man was lying. But he did not get the chance. The judge refused to listen to any more evidence. He was an old man in a hurry. He cut Virginius short, and then delivered his verdict. ‘I have decided that the plaintiff has suffered wrong, and can now claim back his servant. Wherefore, sir defendant, you no longer have the right to keep her in your house. Bring her forth and place her in my custody. Justice must prevail at all costs.’