The Student's Tale
The Host turns to the Oxford Student and says, hey weirdo, you ain't spoken two words all day. You agreed to play this game with us, so you need to stop thinking about smart things so much and actually enjoy what we're doing here! Anyway, you go next, but don't tell anything with big words that us stupid folk aren't going to understand.
The Student says, certainly, I have a tale I can tell. I learned it from a very smart man who is dead now, because that's what we all do, is die. Anyway here's this fun story:
Part 1
There was a county in Italy established many years ago that provided excellent farm land. This Italian county was ruled over by the same proud Italian family for many many Italian generations, all the way down to the current marquis of the land, who has the traditional Italian name of Walter.
Like his forebears, Walter has about as good a relationship with his subjects as can be expected in a feudalistic society, and is generally adored by the people in his domain. The only downside is, Walter is loving the bachelor lifestyle; he rides around and goes on hunts all the time, and generally has no ambitions to start a family.
This presents a problem to the peasants, because they recognize that if Walter dies with no heir, they're liable to be bought out by some Fortune 500 company who will probably want to downsize and otherwise make everything depressingly corporate. So they all form an unruly mob, march up to the palace, and demand that Walter take a bride. They even offer to pick one out for him.
Walter tells them, okay, I love you guys, so I will do this for you. But, two things: one, I want to pick my wife myself, and two, y'all can't complain about who I pick. Everybody agrees, and Walter sets a date for the wedding.
Part 2
At this point, we cut to the next town over. The poorest man in town just had a daughter come of age, and her name is Grisilda. This is, of course, the protagonist of the story, although the book takes an interesting twist here and instead of gushing about her physical attractiveness for a paragraph or two like with all of the other heroic females, it just kind of shrugs and says "yeah she all right."
Instead, the book calls specific attention to her virtue, which would be nice, except again, all the other heroic females have also been defined by virtuousness—which by the way is an incredibly narrow set of ideals that these stories are perpetuating in the same way that Hollywood perpetuates an idealized image of beauty. It makes you wonder if Chaucer was ridiculing the entire concept, or if he believed it and intended to present the Wife of Bath as an entertaining farce, or if he was simply a dumb-dumb who didn't notice what he was doing.
Of course, none of this is Grisilda's fault, and she seems quite lovely. Being born dirt-poor has made her dutiful, diligent, hard-working, and temperate, and it is in fact these qualities that Walter notices when he observes her while on his hunts. Which is a touch creepy, but he actually seems to be more interested in her character than anything, and specifies that it's the reason why no other woman could be his wife, so like, okay, I'm cautiously optimistic on this one.
The day of the wedding arrives, and everybody in the county wonders who the new bride is going to be. Including Grisilda, in fact, who is trying to get her chores done early so that she might be able to watch from her doorstep just in case the limo happens to drive by her house. You will of course realize that this means that the ENTIRE WEDDING has been planned without even lining up the bride, which really ought to be one of the FIRST details you get squared away. I guess I'm just not a romantic.
(Really though, kids, actually planning things out with your partner and being on the same page as one another—or finding a suitable compromise when you're not—is the absolute apex of romance, and don't let movies tell you otherwise)
Well, imagine her surprise when Walter the marquis comes by her house and asks to speak to her father. He asks her dad for permission to marry her—an act that seems nice on the surface but is incredibly problematic when you realize the patriarchal implications—but then after permission is given, Walter says, actually, let's pull her in on this conversation, I want her to be able to make a choice here too. So maybe it doesn't 100% hold up by today's standards, but like, this isn't bad considering all the crap we've read so far. Screw it, I'm Team Walter.
Let's hear what the actual proposal is like:
"Grisilda, it is well that ye should know
It seems good to your father and to me
That I should wed you. Therefore stands it so,
As I suppose, that ye too will agree.
But I will ask these questions first," said he:
"That, since this thing has been precipitate,
Will ye consent, or ponder it and wait?"
So even though Walter here lacked the foresight to secure his bride before planning and paying for the entire wedding, he's still like, hey, I don't want to put you on the spot, so if you can't decide today, I don't even care! This is basically the equivalent of proposing on the Jumbotron at a sports game, but also saying, I am willing to make myself look like a complete ass in front of all these people if you don't want to do this with everybody watching (which, to be clear, is kind of the case here, because people have started wandering in and poking around Grisilda's house in curiosity. Which, like, who does that). In other words, he has poor planning skills, but he's willing to own it. I still like this guy.
...And then this happens:
"And are ye well prepared, I ask again,
To do my will, and promise that I may —
As best may please me — cause you joy or pain,
And ye will not resent it, night or day,
And when I say a 'Yea' not answer 'Nay,'
Neither by word, or frown, or mute defiance?
Swear this, and here I swear my firm alliance."
In other words, "if we get married, I'm allowed to be as shitty to you as I want, and you have to like it."
...What the FUCK Walter
You were doing SO GODDAMN WELL
Jesus Christ, does EVERY man in these stories have to be an absolute shitstain? We can't get ONE GUY who isn't a walking bag of dicks?
Also, a warning: Walter does not get any better.
Despite everything, Grisilda agrees to wed this bastard, at which point she is immediately taken aside by a gaggle of other women, forcibly stripped out of her peasant dress, and dolled up in fancy wedding attire. Chaucer declines to comment on the potential trauma this may have caused.
Instead, we cut to the festivities, where everybody celebrates and is happy, because they may as well if we're all pretending the events of this story aren't entirely ludicrous. Word of Grisilda's goodness spreads far and wide, and she actually does a lot of work settling the affairs of the county whenever Walter is out gallivanting about. Her humble upbringing makes her a very competent and fair ruler, and she proves to be very popular.
Not very long after the wedding, she gives birth to a daughter. This isn't exactly what everybody was hoping for, since you need a son to have a proper heir of course, but they figure, well, at least Grisilda isn't barren, so thank goodness she still has a chance to be useful.
Part 3
It's a few months later, and their daughter is still a baby. One day, Walter gets to thinking, huh, my wife is a pretty good person; but like, HOW good? I should probably test her to find out if she's, like, TRULY virtuous, or only PRETTY virtuous. This is a thing that normal people do. Of course, I do not have to worry about my own virtue coming into question because I am male.
So he goes into Grisilda's room and says, heeey, so you're great and all, but the minor nobles in my court are kind of upset that they're being governed by a peasant woman, and that's only gotten worse since you gave birth to a daughter, although I couldn't tell you for the life of me why that matters. Point being, they're calling for your daughter to die, and I might have to do that for them, but like, I wanted to run it by you and make sure you're cool with it even though it ultimately doesn't matter whether you are or not. To which Grisilda replies, well, I submitted to you, so I am happy to go along with whatever you deem right.
Eventually, Walter sends in one of his sergeants to take the daughter away. Grisilda doesn't put up a fight, only requesting that she be allowed to kiss the child one last time, and that the body be entombed rather than being tossed out for the animals.
Of course, Walter isn't actually going to have the kid killed (you think we do that kind of thing in The Canterbury Tales?!), but he needs to make sure that Grisilda isn't going to flip out on him tomorrow, either, so he sends the kid off to be raised by his sister—who is a countess elsewhere—with instructions that nobody learn who she truly is.
Afterward, Grisilda goes on living her life as perfectly content as she did before these events, never even so much as mentioning her daughter ever again. So Walter has to concede, okay, I think it's clear she's virtuous then. And they continue on with their lives.
Part 4
A few years later, Grisilda gives birth to a son, and the commoners are thrilled, because Walter finally has his heir. Things go pretty smoothly until the boy turns two, at which point Walter begins to have a think again. He figures, I know I already tested Grisilda, but like, maybe she never had a chance to get attached to our daughter. Now that our son is two, and she's definitely grown attached by now, I'd better try the same thing again, just to make sure.
This time his lame excuse is that the people don't like that their son has a peasant grandfather, and when he takes over for Walter, they don't want Grisilda's father having any influence on his decision-making. So this son needs to die too. I don't know what the endgame is supposed to be here if the people aren't happy no matter which gender the child is, but Grisilda doesn't question it. Everything happens pretty much the same as before; Grisilda gives up the boy, he goes off to be raised by his aunt in secret, and everybody continues on with their lives.
Well, except that the commoners could swear they remembered Walter having two kids, including an heir, and yet somehow they seem to have dropped off the face of the earth. They can only assume that, unhappy with his lowborn wife, he had his children killed, and word begins to spread around that Walter is a murderer, and his approval rating plummets. This has zero impact on the rest of the story.
Instead, Walter pulls some strings with his contacts in Rome, and has counterfeited a decree from the pope saying that, yeah, your marriage to Grisilda is kind of lame and shouldn't count, you have the church's permission to marry someone else instead. Grisilda isn't thrilled about this, but, them's the breaks when you've been indoctrinated into subjecting yourself entirely to your husband's will.
When their daughter reaches the age of twelve, Walter writes to his sister and says, hey, send the kids back over. But if anybody asks, say the girl is being sent to be my new bride. Skep is willing to hand-wave away the idea of a 12-year-old bride on the basis that it's all a ruse anyway, and that he still has a lot of other griping to do yet.
Part 5
With his children currently on the way back to his palace, Walter continues his scheme. He now tells Grisilda, hey, I can't be married to you any longer. Not only do my people demand I wed somebody else, but the pope is kind of endorsing it too. So I'm gonna need you to scram.
Grisilda tells him, hey, that's fine. I was only ever a poor girl, and you were way too good for me; in fact, I've always considered myself more your servant than your wife, although I am your wife which means I'm never going to get remarried even though you definitely are within the next week. Also, if you recall, you had a bunch of ladies take off my clothes and put me in a dress you commissioned for our wedding day. Really, you gave me all of what I possess now, so I'm going to return it to you—even this wedding ring. Since I brought nothing, I'm going to leave with nothing. I'll even walk out of here naked if I have to, although if you may grant me one small favor, it would be for something to wear so that nobody looks upon the womb that bore your kids.
Walter says, fine, you can take your underwear-smock-thing with you. And so, she makes the walk of shame back home to her father's place in what is essentially just her skivvies, while the people watch on sadly. But when she arrives home, she doesn't spend any time moping or wallowing in pity; instead, she simply falls back into the lifestyle she used to lead when she was just a young maiden.
Part 6
The new bride is expected to arrive at the palace the next day. Walter, who has thought of an entirely new way to torment his wife, calls Grisilda back in to his palace, and tells her, you know, I'm actually in need of a chambermaid to help out around this place. I thought you'd be pretty good at that, since you know how I like things around here. What do you say?
Grisilda, of course, accepts this new role, and goes all-in on preparing for the festival the following day. When the bridal party finally arrives, she treats them most cordially and tactfully, to the point where they all think, what is with this peasant who has such noble bearings?
As the partygoers sit down to feast, Walter calls out to Grisilda as she works, asking what she thinks of the new bride.
"Well, she's pretty, and she seems nice," says Grisilda. "I hope God has pleasant days in store for the two of you."
"And if I might make a suggestion," she adds, "don't be cruel to her like you were with me. She wasn't brought up poor, so I don't think she could endure it as well as I did."
Having been called the hell out in front of everybody, Walter finally puts a stop to the charade. He kisses her and says, Grisilda, you are still my wife, and these two kids are actually your children, whom I could never dream of harming! Of course I didn't want to needlessly split up our family during our children's foundational years, nor did I want you to feel the abject misery of losing your offspring and your husband, and lying to you about being hated by literally everybody for over a decade, but I had to make sure you were a good person! And I'm sure of that now! So let's put you back into a nice expensive dress and live happily ever after.
Grisilda sheds tears of joy, and everybody parties the hardest they've ever partied. Eventually they marry their daughter off to a well-off lord, and their son takes up Walter's place when the latter dies, and he's just as well-loved as Walter was, except he has the good sense not to put his wife through hell for no good reason.
The Student concludes his tale by saying, look, I don't expect any wives in the audience to be humble to the extreme degree that Grisilda was, but hopefully her ability to persevere in the face of adversity is inspiring to you. God doesn't make them as patient as Grisilda was anymore anyway, so it seems to me we should all be following the Wife of Bath's example. If your husband tries to pull this shit on you, you stick up for yourself, whichever way you know how, and you make him respect you, and you show the world what a manbaby he's being.
Here the Student of Oxford ends his Tale.