THE PENTAMERON; or, THE FIVE DAYS OF FIFTY STORIES, AS TOLD BY A GROUP OF FRIENDS ESCAPING THE COVID PANDEMIC
by Mariah Ashe
THE PENTAMERON; or, THE FIVE DAYS OF FIFTY STORIES, AS TOLD BY A GROUP OF FRIENDS ESCAPING THE COVID PANDEMIC is a reworking of the 15th Century work “Cent Nouvelles Nouvelles.” First translated into English in 1899 by Robert Douglas, this collection is now, for the first time, elevated to the level of Boccaccio’s Decameron and the Heptameron of Marguerite de Navarre with a frame story fitting for it.
General Introduction to the Five Days of Fifty Stories
Let it never be forgotten that, in the year 2020, a most dreadful pestilence made its appearance in American cities. Hailing from the Far East, this disease crossed the ocean in its crisscrossing of the globe, and it seemed to, at once, make landfall on every shore, quickly spreading from sea to shining sea.
Known by many names, from that of Covid-19 to the China Flu, so virulent was this attack of sickness that, in response, American society, for a time, shut down, each family staying in its home while many businesses, except for the very large, shuttered in the sudden lack of sustenance. On the faces that did go out, cloth masks were seen, covering both the nose and mouth, and something as casual as a handshake became a barometer to test one’s response to the threat. In short, due to the intense illness that gripped the country, nearly everything about American life, even down to one’s basic relations with another, was, in a few months, completely overturned.
As for the symptoms of this global menace, they could, as a rule, run the fullest of ranges, from fever to chills and from vomiting to diarrhea. Fatigue, too, could almost always be expected, and one’s nose would almost certainly run. In truth, so amorphous as well as widely spread was this disease that it was not odd to find its diagnosis derived from nearly any symptom, nor was it surprising to find it a listed cause for almost any death.
However, instead of any further detailing of past miseries, which naturally makes one sad, let it be seen that, as our country was in this condition, almost emptied of health, it happened that, at a country club somewhere along Puget Sound, in the great State of Washington, five friends—four young men and one young woman, each between the ages of twenty-four and twenty-six—were brought together for brunch. It was a Sunday morning, just about ten o’clock, in the first summer of the pandemic’s grip on the country, and as we enter the scene, three of our five are standing about the restaurant’s foyer, awaiting the table that is being made ready for them.
To first introduce the first present, these three were Phil, Daisy, and Neil, of whom, the latter two were, at the time, dating while the former, some weekends prior, had recently gone through a non-consensual breakup. First names alone will be provided for these three, along with the two to come, and while this may be an annoyance to some readers, the majority will—it is hoped—understand why the reputations of five individuals, each hailing from a prominent last name, are best left unaddressed, lest they be in any way infringed upon.
“I wonder how much longer they’re going to make us wait,” Phil said, equally annoyed and interested.
“It’s been over ten minutes, now,” Neil replied, “and counting.”
“Why did we come here?” Daisy asked.
“We have to,” Phil answered.
“Nearly everywhere else is closed,” Neil added.
“That’s right,” Daisy said. “What about reservations, though?”
“That’s what I said,” Phil replied.
“For those,” Neil said, “we’d have to decide where we want to go before getting in the car.”
From the restaurant’s innards, the hostess could be seen returning to the trio, and though a mask covered her mouth, they could tell that she smiled. At once, they prepared to be led to their table.
“Pierce will have to find us,” Phil said.
“I am sure he won’t have any trouble with it,” Daisy replied.
Then, himself appearing from within the restaurant, Pierce came upon them.
“Guess who I ran into,” he said.
Not until the four friends were seated at their table, with drinks ordered, did enough incorrect guesses bring from Pierce the answer.
“Chase,” he said. “Remember him?”
“Of course,” Neil answered.
“How could anyone forget him?” Daisy added.
“Is he still dating that one girl?” Phil asked.
“No,” Pierce answered. “He was never really dating her, either.”
“Her name’s Amanda, I think,” Daisy said.
“Where is he?” Neil asked.
“I saw him at a table eating brunch,” Pierce answered. “He said he plans to play a round of golf later, once it warms up and the course opens up a little. The other thing he told me, though, is that he is going to drive over the mountains early tomorrow morning to spend the week at Lake Chelan. Apparently, his parents have a place there, and they want him to check on it, so they said it’s fine if he stays the week. He invited all of us out with him.”
“Really?” Daisy asked.
“For the whole week?” Phil asked. “What about Scott’s party?”
“We would drive back Friday afternoon,” Pierce answered, “so we would be back Friday night for it.”
“Warren was talking of throwing some party this week,” Daisy said, “since nothing else is going on. I wasn’t wanting to go, anyway, though.”
“I hadn’t heard about that,” Phil added.
“I need a little break from partying,” Neil said.
“Me, too,” Daisy said. “It feels like all I have been doing since everything shut down.”
“Well,” Pierce replied, “it’s all there is to do since everything shut down.”
Here, a few moments of silence ensued, during which it was understood that any objection to Chase’s invitation should make itself known.
“Well,” Pierce eventually said, “should we do it?”
“I think we should,” Daisy said. “I’ve never been out to Chelan.”
“Really?” Phil asked. “In that case, I know we should.”
“I haven’t been in years,” Pierce said.
“Daisy doesn’t go farther than skiing in the mountains,” Neil added.
“And even that,” she replied, “I haven’t been able to do for some time.”
“Not for lack of being invited,” Phil said. “I remember asking you all winter, each time I went up.”
“I know,” she answered. “I always felt too busy this year.”
“If your priorities are in order,” Pierce quipped, “you’ll never feel busy.”
“What about just last weekend?” Neil asked, itself a quip.
“Yeah,” Daisy added, “you made all that fuss over trying to be at both Cass’ party and Sam’s. That night, you sure seemed busy.”
“Well,” Pierce answered, “every rule has its exceptions. If you are busy with too much leisure, I would say that you are not actually busy.”
“I couldn’t agree with that more,” Phil said.
For a few moments, conversation subsided, and it was left to Pierce to reup it with a return to its original topic.
“So,” he said, “I’ll Chase that we’re in, then?”
“I am,” Daisy replied.
“Me, too,” Phil said, “especially since Daisy has never been out there.”
“Definitely,” Neil added.
At this moment, Chase himself happened to pass by the friends’ table on his way out of the restaurant, and he was called over by way of emphatic hand waves.
“Does this mean that you will all be joining me this week?” he asked with a smile. “Pierce was pretty sure of it, already.”
“We all just agreed on it,” Neil replied.
“In the affirmative,” Daisy added.
“Great,” Chase said. “I’m glad to hear it.”
“I’m excited already,” Phil said.
“But what will we do all day out there?” Daisy asked.
“What would we do all day here?” Pierce asked in reply.
“I know what you mean, Daisy,” Chase said. “This horrible pandemic has completely upended everything to the point that I count the days until each weekend, since something is always, somewhere, happening then.”
“It has been tough all around,” Neil said.
“For everyone,” Daisy added.
“For sure,” Phil said.
“But this is,” Chase said, “only more reason for coming out with me to the lake. We can go out on the boat every day, so we will be far from even any reminder of what is going on.”
“That sure sounds nice,” Neil said.
“I could sure use it,” Phil added.
“We all could,” Pierce said.
“Well,” Daisy said, “even if out on the water every day, we still must have something to occupy our minds. We should, I think, come up with some activity that will alleviate any possible boredom. Otherwise, we run the risk of coming down with tedium, even while escaping the global contagion.”
“What is worse,” Phil agreed, “we might become disagreeable to one another, which is often a sickness without remedy.”
“In my mind,” Pierce said, “there is no worse kind.”
“In that case,” Daisy announced, “I have an idea. I have heard that, in situations such as ours, storytelling serves the purpose, and its form can be, I think, easily adopted. There are five of us, as well as five days to our trip, so let us assign to each of us one day on which to be the decider of types of stories told. Then, we can each tell a couple tales—let us say two each—that fit the theme. It will be ten stories each day, each on a particular theme. Fifty stories in all.”
“I like it,” Chase said.
“It’s fine with me,” Pierce said. “I might want to be swimming while some of the stories are told, though.”
“I love it,” Neil said.
“Me, too,” Phil added.
“Should we decide tomorrow’s theme now?” Chase asked.
“Well,” Daisy said, “it would be deciding the decider, I suppose.”
“That’s right,” Neil said.
“So,” Pierce said, “let it be you, then, Daisy. It was your idea, so you should be our first storytelling president.”
“I wouldn’t argue with that,” Neil said.
“Me, neither,” Phil added.
“The President of the Storytelling Boat,” Chase said.
“Let us count the votes,” Pierce said. “Mine for Daisy is first.”
“I vote for her,” Neil said.
“Me, too,” Phil said.
“She has my vote,” Chase said.
“I am, I suppose, in the position of not needing to cast my ballot,” Daisy herself said, “since it does not matter. Therefore, I am staying home on election day, as it were.”
“In that case,” Pierce said, “it is four votes for our representative of the fairer sex, and no votes elsewhere. Madame President, you may now consider yourself in office.”
“Thank you, Pierce,” Daisy said. “As, now, our first President, let me start by establishing the precedent of naming a day’s theme upon being sworn into office. Folly, I think, makes for the most light-hearted subject matter while, on the other hand, edification makes for the most worthwhile. Combining the two, therefore, shall bring us the best of both words, and for this reason, I declare edifying folly, cases of error that can be learned from, to be the theme of tomorrow, our first day of storytelling.”
This executive decision was highly praised by the other four, who thought that there could not be a better theme for their first foray into what would be, for each of them, a new field. Only one suggestion was made, and it came from Neil.
“How about,” he said, “if we mandate that the stories told, both tomorrow and each day after, be nothing but the truth? This way, if only telling what each has either witnessed or heard worthy of belief, our stories will, I think, be made all the better, and they will offer more to learn from, as well.”
Neil’s suggestion was readily adopted by a unanimous vote, no attention being paid to whether the matter should have any specific influence from the newly created executive branch.
“It is decided, then,” Pierce said. “We will leave early tomorrow morning, getting to Chelan sometime before noon, and then, we will stay until Friday, leaving sometime after noon. Whatever else we choose to do each day, we will reserve time to go out on the lake, and once out upon the water, we will each of us tell two stories, both of which must be true, on a theme decided the day before, by a President elected for a day’s rule. Let us, now, be considered as committed to it.”
