the good wizard; "and Rinaldo is not here, and it is indispensably
necessary that he should be. I must find out where he is, and
Ricciardetto too, and send for them with all speed, and at any price."
Malagigi called up, by his art, a wise, terrible, and cruel spirit,
named Ashtaroth;--no light personage to deal with--no little spirit,
such as plays tricks with you like a fairy. A much blacker visitant was
this.
"Tell me, and tell me truly of Rinaldo," said Malagigi to the spirit.
Hard looked the demon at the Paladin, and said nothing. His aspect was
clouded and violent. He wished to see whether his summoner retained all
the force of his art.
The enchanter, with an aspect still cloudier, bade Ashtaroth lay down
that look. While giving this order, he also made signs indicative of a
disposition to resort to angrier compulsion; and the devil, apprehending
that he would confine him in some hateful place, loosened his tongue,
and said, "You have not told me what you desire to know of Rinaldo."
"I desire to know what he has been doing, and where he is," returned the
enchanter.
"He has been conquering and baptising the world, east and west," said
the demon, "and is now in Egypt with Ricciardetto."
"And what has Gan been plotting with Marsilius," inquired Malagigi, "and
what is to come of it?"
"On neither of those points can I enlighten you," said the devil. "I was
not attending to Gan at the time, and we fallen spirits know not the
future. Had we done so, we had not been so willing to incur the danger
of falling. All I discern is, that, by the signs and comets in the
heavens, something dreadful is about to happen--something very strange,
treacherous, and bloody; and that Gan has a seat ready prepared for him
in hell."
"Within three days," cried the enchanter, loudly, "fetch Rinaldo
and Ricciardetto into the pass of Roncesvalles. Do it, and I hereby
undertake never to summon thee more."
"Suppose they will not trust themselves with me," said the spirit.
"Enter Rinaldo's horse, and bring him, whether he trust thee or not."
"It shall be done," returned the demon; "and my serving-devil
Foul-Mouth, or Fire-Red, shall enter the horse of Ricciardetto. Doubt it
not. Am I not wise, and thyself powerful?"
There was an earthquake, and Ashtaroth disappeared.
Marsilius has now made his first movement towards the destruction of
Orlando, by sending before him his vassal-king Blanchardin with his
presents of wines and other luxuries. The temperate but courteous hero
took them in good part, and distributed them as the traitor wished; and
then Blanchardin, on pretence of going forward to salute Charlemagne
at St. John Pied de Port, returned and put himself at the head of the
second army, which was the post assigned him by his liege lord. The
device on his flag was an "Apollo" on a field azure. King Falseron,
whose son Orlando had slain in battle, headed the first army, the device
of which was a black figure of the devil Belphegor on a dapple-grey
field. The third army was under King Balugante, and had for ensign a
Mahomet with golden wings in a field of red. Marsilius made a speech to
them at night, in which he confessed his ill faith, but defended it on
the ground of Charles's hatred of their religion, and of the example
of "Judith and Holofernes." He said, that he had not come there to pay
tribute, and sell his countrymen for slaves, but to make all Christendom
pay tribute to them as conquerors; and he concluded by recommending to
their good-will the son of his friend Gan, whom they would know by the
vest he had sent him, and who was the only soul among the Christians
they were to spare.
This son of Gan, meantime, and several of the Paladins who were
disgusted with Charles's credulity, and anxious at all events to be with
Orlando, had joined the hero in the fated valley; so that the little
Christian host, considering the tremendous valour of their lord and his
friends, and the comparative inefficiency of that of the infidels,
were at any rate not to be sold for nothing. Rinaldo, alas! the second
thunderbolt of Christendom, was destined not to be there in time to save
their lives. He could only avenge the dreadful tragedy, and prevent
still worse consequences to the whole Christian court and empire.
The Paladins had in vain begged Orlando to be on his guard against
treachery, and send for a more numerous body of men. The great heart of
the Champion of the Faith was unwilling to think the worst as long as
he could help it. He refused to summon aid that might be superfluous;
neither would he do any thing but what his liege lord had desired. And
yet he could not wholly repress a misgiving. A shadow had fallen on his
heart, great and cheerful as it was. The anticipations of his friends
disturbed him, in spite of the face with which he met them. I am not
sure that he did not, by a certain instinctive foresight, expect death
itself; but he felt bound not to encourage the impression. Besides, time
pressed; the moment of the looked-for tribute was at hand; and little
combinations of circumstances determine often the greatest events.
King Blanchardin had brought Orlando's people a luxurious supper; King
Marsilius was to arrive early next day with the tribute; and Uliviero
accordingly, with the morning sun, rode forth to reconnoitre, and see
if he could discover the peaceful pomp of the Spanish court in the
distance. Guottibuoffi was with him, a warrior who had expected the very
worst, and repeatedly implored Orlando to believe it possible. Uliviero
and he rode up the mountain nearest them, and from the top of it beheld
the first army of Marsilius already forming in the passes.
"O Guottibuoffi!" exclaimed he, "behold thy prophecies come true! behold
the last day of the glory of Charles! Every where I see the arms of the
traitors around us. I feel Paris tremble all the way through France, to
the ground beneath my feet. O Malagigi, too much in the right wert thou!
O devil Gan, this then is the consummation of thy good offices!"
Uliviero put spurs to his horse, and galloped back down the mountain to
Orlando.
"Well," cried the hero, "what news?"
"Bad news," said his cousin; "such as you would not hear of yesterday.
Marsilius is here in arms, and all the world has come with him."
The Paladins pressed round Orlando, and entreated him to sound his horn,
in token that he needed help. His only answer was, to mount his horse,
and ride up the mountain with Sansonetto.
As soon, however, as he cast forth his eyes and beheld what was round
about him, he turned in sorrow, and looked down into Roncesvalles, and
said, "O valley, miserable indeed! the blood that is shed in thee this
day will colour thy name for ever."
Many of the Paladins had ridden after him, and they again pressed him to
sound his horn, if only in pity to his own people. He said, "If Cæsar
and Alexander were here, Scipio and Hannibal, and Nebuchadnezzar with
all his flags, and Death stared me in the face with his knife in his
hand, never would I sound my horn for the baseness of fear."
Orlando's little camp were furious against the Saracens. They armed
themselves with the greatest impatience. There was nothing but lacing
of helmets and mounting of horses; and good Archbishop Turpin went
from rank to rank, exhorting and encouraging the warriors of Christ.
Accoutrements and habiliments were put on the wrong way; words and
deeds mixed in confusion; men running against one another out of very
absorption in themselves; all the place full of cries of "Arm! arm! the
enemy!" and the trumpets clanged over all against the mountain-echoes.
Orlando and his captains withdrew for a moment to consultation. He
fairly groaned for sorrow, and at first had not a word to say; so
wretched he felt at having brought his people to die in Roncesvalles.
Uliviero spoke first. He could not resist the opportunity of comforting
himself a little in his despair, with referring to his unheeded advice.
"You see, cousin," said he, "what has come at last. Would to God you had
attended to what I said; to what Malagigi said; to what we all said! I
told you Marsilius was nothing but an anointed scoundrel. Yet forsooth,
he was to bring us tribute! and Charles is this moment expecting his
mummeries at St. John Pied de Port! Did ever any body believe a word
that Gan said, but Charles? And now you see this rotten fruit has come
to a head;--this medlar has got its crown."
Orlando said nothing in answer to Uliviero; for in truth he had nothing
to say. He broke away to give orders to the camp; bade them take
refreshment; and then addressing both officers and men, he said, "I
confess, that if it had entered my heart to conceive the king of Spain
to be such a villain, never would you have seen this day. He has
exchanged with me a thousand courtesies and good words; and I thought
that the worse enemies we had been before, the better friends we had
become now. I fancied every human being capable of this kind of virtue
on a good opportunity, saving, indeed, such base-hearted wretches as can
never forgive their very forgivers; and of these I certainly did not
suppose him to be one. Let us die, if we must die, like honest and
gallant men; so that it shall be said of us, it was only our bodies that
died. It becomes our souls to be invincible, and our glory immortal.
Our motto must be, 'A good heart and no hope.' The reason why I did not
sound the horn was, partly because I thought it did not become us, and
partly because our liege lord could be of little use, even if he heard
it. Let Gan have his glut of us like a carrion crow; but let him find
us under heaps of his Saracens, an example for all time. Heaven, my
friends, is with us, if earth is against us. Methinks I see it open
this moment, ready to receive our souls amidst crowns of glory; and
therefore, as the champion of God's church, I give you my benediction;
and the good archbishop here will absolve you; and so, please God, we
shall all go to Heaven and be happy."
And with these words Orlando sprang to his horse, crying, "Away against
the Saracens!" but he had no sooner turned his face than he wept
bitterly, and said, "O holy Virgin, think not of me, the sinner Orlando,
but have pity on these thy servants."
Archbishop Turpin did as Orlando said, giving the whole band his
benediction at once, and absolving them from their sins, so that every
body took comfort in the thought of dying for Christ, and thus they
embraced one another, weeping; and then lance was put to thigh, and the
banner was raised that was won in the jousting at Aspramont.
And now with a mighty dust, and an infinite sound of horns, and
tambours, and trumpets, which came filling the valley, the first army
of the infidels made its appearance, horses neighing, and a thousand
pennons flying in the air. King Falseron led them on, saying to his
officers, "Now, gentlemen, recollect what I said. The first battle is
for the leaders only;--and, above all, let nobody dare to lay a finger
on Orlando. He belongs to myself. The revenge of my son's death is mine.
I will cut the man down that comes between us."
"Now, friends," said Orlando, "every man for himself, and St. Michael
for us all. There is no one here that is not a perfect knight."
And he might well say it; for the flower of all France was there, except
Rinaldo and Ricciardetto; every man a picked man; all friends and
constant companions of Orlando. There was Richard of Normandy, and
Guottibuoffi, and Uliviero, and Count Anselm, and Avolio, and Avino, and
the gentle Berlinghieri, and his brother, and Sansonetto, and the good
Duke Egibard, and Astolfo the Englishman, and Angiolin of Bayona, and
all the other Paladins of France, excepting those two whom I have
mentioned. And so the captains of the little troop and of the great
array sat looking at one another, and singling one another out, as the
latter came on; and then either side began raising their war-cries, and
the mob of the infidels halted, and the knights put spear in rest, and
ran for a while, two and two in succession, each one against the other.
Astolfo was the first to move. He ran against Arlotto of Soria; and
Angiolin then ran against Malducco; and Mazzarigi the Renegade came
against Avino; and Uliviero was borne forth by his horse Rondel, who
couldn't stand still, against Malprimo, the first of the captains of
Falseron.
And now lances began to be painted red, without any brush but
themselves; and the new colour extended itself to the bucklers, and the
cuishes, and the cuirasses, and the trappings of the steeds.
Astolfo thrust his antagonist's body out of the saddle, and his soul
into the other world; and Angiolin gave and took a terrible blow with
Malducco; but his horse bore him onward; and Avino had something of the
like encounter with Mazzarigi; but Uliviero, though he received a thrust
which hurt him, sent his lance right through the heart of Malprimo.
Falseron was daunted at this blow. "Verily," thought he, "this is a
miracle." Uliviero did not press on among the Saracens, his wound was
too painful; but Orlando now put himself and his whole band into motion,
and you may guess what an uproar ensued. The sound of the rattling of
the blows and helmets was as if the forge of Vulcan had been thrown
open. Falseron beheld Orlando coming so furiously, that he thought him a
Lucifer who had burst his chain, and was quite of another mind than when
he proposed to have him all to himself. On the contrary, he recommended
himself to his gods; and turning away, begged for a more auspicious
season of revenge. But Orlando hailed and arrested him with a terrible
voice, saying, "O thou traitor! Was this the end to which old quarrels
were made up? Dost thou not blush, thou and thy fellow-traitor
Marsilius, to have kissed me on the cheek like a Judas, when last thou
wert in France?"
Orlando had never shewn such anger in his countenance as he did that
day. He dashed at Falseron with a fury so swift, and at the same time
a mastery of his lance so marvellous, that though he plunged it in the
man's body so as instantly to kill him, the body did not move in the
saddle. The hero himself, as he rushed onwards, was fain to see the end
of a stroke so perfect, and, turning his horse back, he touched the
carcass with his sword, and it fell on the instant. They say, that it
had no sooner fallen than it disappeared. People got off their horses
to lift up the body, for it seemed to be there still, the armour being
left; but when they came to handle the armour, it was found as empty as
the shell that is cast by a lobster. O new, and strange, and portentous
event!--proof manifest of the anger with which God regards treachery.
When the first infidel army beheld their leader dead, such fear fell
upon them, that they were for leaving the field to the Paladins; but
they were unable. Marsilius had drawn the rest of his forces round the
valley like a net, so that their shoulders were turned in vain. Orlando
rode into the thick of them, with Count Anselm by his side. He rushed
like a tempest; and wherever he went, thunderbolts fell upon helmets.
The Paladins drove here and there after them, each making a whirlwind
round about him, and a bloody circle. Uliviero was again in the _mêlée_;
and Walter of Amulion threw himself into it; and Baldwin roared like
a lion; and Avino and Avolio reaped the wretches' heads like a
turnip-field; and blows blinded men's eyes; and Archbishop Turpin
himself had changed his crozier for a lance, and chased a new flock
before him to the mountains.
Yet what could be done against foes without number? Multitudes fill
up the spaces left by the dead without stopping. Marsilius, from his
anxious and raging post, constantly pours them in. The Paladins are as
units to thousands. Why tarry the horses of Rinaldo and Ricciardetto?
The horses did not tarry; but fate had been quicker than enchantment.
Ashtaroth, nevertheless, had presented himself to Rinaldo in Egypt, as
though he had issued out of a flash of lightning. After telling his
mission, and giving orders to hundreds of invisible spirits round about
him (for the air was full of them), he and Foul-Mouth, his servant,
entered the horses of Rinaldo and Ricciardetto, which began to neigh and
snort and leap with the fiends within them, till off they flew through
the air over the pyramids, crowds of spirits going like a tempest before
them. Ricciardetto shut his eyes at first, on perceiving himself so high
in the air; but he speedily became used to it, though he looked down
on the sun at last. In this manner they passed the desert, and the
sea-coast, and the ocean, and swept the tops of the Pyrenees, Ashtaroth
talking to them of wonders by the way; for he was one of the wisest of
the devils, and knew a great many things which were then unknown to man.
He laughed, for instance, as they went over sea, at the notion, among
other vain fancies, that nothing was to be found beyond the pillars of
Hercules; "for," said he, "the earth is round, and the sea has an even
surface all over it; and there are nations on the other side of the
globe, who walk with their feet opposed to yours, and worship other gods
than the Christians."
"Hah!" said Rinaldo; "and may I ask whether they can be saved?"
"It is a bold thing to ask," said the devil; "but do you take the
Redeemer for a partisan, and fancy he died for you only? Be assured he
died for the whole world, Antipodes and all. Perhaps not one soul will
be left out the pale of salvation at last, but the whole human race
adore the truth, and find mercy. The Christian is the only true
religion; but Heaven loves all goodness that believes honestly,
whatsoever the belief may be."
Rinaldo was mightily taken with the humanity of the devil's opinions:
but they were now approaching the end of their journey, and began to
hear the noise of the battle; and he could no longer think of any thing
but the delight of being near Orlando, and plunging into the middle of
it.
"You shall be in the very heart of it instantly," said his bearer.
"I love you, and would fain do all you desire. Do not fancy that all
nobleness of spirit is lost among us people below. You know what the
proverb says, 'There's never a fruit, however degenerate, but will taste
of its stock.' I was of a different order of beings once, and--But it is
as well not to talk of happy times. Yonder is Marsilius; and there goes
Orlando. Farewell, and give me a place in your memory."
Rinaldo could not find words to express his sense of the devil's
good-will, nor of that of Foul Mouth himself. He said: "Ashtaroth, I am
as sorry to part with you as if you were a brother; and I certainly do
believe that nobleness of spirit exists, as you say, among your people
below. I shall be glad to see you both sometimes, if you can come; and I
pray God (if my poor prayer be worth any thing) that you may all repent,
and obtain his pardon; for without repentance, you know, nothing can be
done for you."
"If I might suggest a favour," returned Ashtaroth, "since you are so
good as to wish to do me one, persuade Malagigi to free me from his
service, and I am yours for ever. To serve you will be a pleasure to me.
You will only have to say, 'Ashtaroth,' and my good friend here will be
with you in an instant."
"I am obliged to you," cried Rinaldo, "and so is my brother. I will
write Malagigi, not merely a letter, but a whole packet-full of your
praises; and so I will to Orlando; and you shall be set free, depend on
it, your company has been so perfectly agreeable."
"Your humble servant," said Ashtaroth, and vanished with his companion
like lightning.
But they did not go far.
There was a little chapel by the road-side in Roncesvalles, which had
a couple of bells; and on the top of that chapel did the devils place
themselves, in order that they might catch the souls of the infidels as
they died, and so carry them off to the infernal regions. Guess if their
wings had plenty to do that day! Guess if Minos and Rhadamanthus were
busy, and Charon sung in his boat, and Lucifer hugged himself for joy.
Guess, also, if the tables in heaven groaned with nectar and ambrosia,
and good old St. Peter had a dry hair in his beard.
The two Paladins, on their horses, dropped right into the middle of the
Saracens, and began making such havoc about them, that Marsilius, who
overlooked the fight from a mountain, thought his soldiers had turned
one against the other. He therefore descended in fury with his third
army; and Rinaldo, seeing him coming, said to Ricciardetto, "We had
better be off here, and join Orlando;" and with these words, he gave his
horse one turn round before he retreated, so as to enable his sword to
make a bloody circle about him; and stories say, that he sheared off
twenty heads in the whirl of it. He then dashed through the astonished
beholders towards the battle of Orlando, who guessed it could be no
other than his cousin, and almost dropped from his horse, out of desire
to meet him. Ricciardetto followed Rinaldo; and Uliviero coming up at
the same moment, the rapture of the whole party is not to be expressed.
They almost died for joy. After a thousand embraces, and questions, and
explanations, and expressions of astonishment (for the infidels held
aloof awhile, to take breath from the horror and mischief they had
undergone), Orlando refreshed his little band of heroes, and then drew
Rinaldo apart, and said, "O my brother, I feel such delight at seeing
you, I can hardly persuade myself I am not dreaming. Heaven be praised
for it. I have no other wish on earth, now that I see you before I die.
Why didn't you write? But never mind. Here you are, and I shall not die
for nothing."
"I did write," said Rinaldo, "and so did Ricciardetto; but villany
intercepted our letters. Tell me what to do, my dear cousin; for time
presses, and all the world is upon us."
"Gan has brought us here," said Orlando, "under pretence of receiving
tribute from Marsilius--you see of what sort; and Charles, poor old man,
is waiting to receive his homage at the town of St. John! I have never
seen a lucky day since you left us. I believe I have done for Charles
more than in duty bound, and that my sins pursue me, and I and mine must
all perish in Roncesvalles."
"Look to Marsilius," exclaimed Rinaldo; "he is right upon us."
Marsilius was upon them, surely enough, at once furious and frightened
at the coming of the new Paladins; for his camp, numerous as it was, had
not only held aloof, but turned about to fly like herds before the lion;
so he was forced to drive them back, and bring up his other troops,
reasonably thinking that such numbers must overwhelm at last, if they
could but be kept together.
Not the less, however, for this, did the Paladins continue to fight as
if with joy. They killed and trampled wheresoever they went; Rinaldo
fatiguing himself with sending infinite numbers of souls to Ashtaroth,
and Orlando making a bloody passage towards Marsilius, whom he hoped to
settle as he had done Falseron.
In the course of this his tremendous progress, the hero struck a youth
on the head, whose helmet was so good as to resist the blow, but at the
same time flew off; and Orlando seized him by the hair to kill him.
"Hold!" cried the youth, as loud as want of breath could let him; "you
loved my father--I'm Bujaforte."
The Paladin had never seen Bujaforte; but he saw the likeness to the
good old Man of the Mountain, his father; and he let go the youth's
hair, and embraced and kissed him. "O Bujaforte!" said he; "I loved him
indeed my good old man; but what does his son do here, fighting against
his friend?"
Bujaforte was a long time before he could speak for weeping. At length
he said, "Orlando, let not your noble heart be pained with ill thoughts
of my father's son. I am forced to be here by my lord and master
Marsilius. I had no friend left me in the world, and he took me into his
court, and has brought me here before I knew what it was for; and I have
made a shew of fighting, but have not hurt a single Christian. Treachery
is on every side of you. Baldwin himself has a vest given him by
Marsilius, that every body may know the son of his friend Gan, and do
him no injury. See there--look how the lances avoid him."
"Put your helmet on again," said Orlando, "and behave just as you have
done. Never will your father's friend be an enemy to the son. Only take
care not to come across Rinaldo."
The hero then turned in fury to look for Baldwin, who was hastening
towards him at that moment with friendliness in his looks.