After the plague broke out in Florence, many people fled the city. Ten young men and women went to a villa in the countryside, where each of them took turns telling one story a day. They told stories for ten days, a hundred in total, and when those stories were collected into a book, it became The Decameron.
But no matter how long a story was, it always had a beginning. The first story in The Decameron was about confession. A French merchant who had committed countless evils fell gravely ill, nearly dying. He had been taken in by two moneylending brothers, who feared that if the Frenchman died, he would bring them bad luck, so they discussed throwing him out.
The sick man overheard them and summoned them over, asking them to find a highly respected priest. This priest was holy and wise, beloved by the townspeople. When other churches refused to take in that sinner and would rather have him thrown onto the burial mounds outside the city like a dead dog, this venerable priest came to the sick man's bedside to hear his confession.
He wept and wailed as he spoke, seeming truly repentant, but the two brothers were pressed outside the room and heard every word the sinner said. They could barely keep from laughing. Even on his deathbed, he had not repented at all; his mouth was still full of lies. In the end, not only was he buried in the church, but he was even granted the title of saint.
The priest who heard his confession was greatly respected in the area. From the pulpit, he recounted the new saint's life, and those listening to his sermon truly believed it. They devoutly kissed the dead man's hands and feet, then tore every scrap of