Thus had they fought long, glancing at one another's eyes, and

seeing naught else, when their attention was arrested perforce by

a strange noise. They turned, and beheld the good Bayard attacked

by a monstrous bird. Perhaps it was a bird, for such it seemed;

but when or where such a bird was ever seen I have nowhere read,

except in Turpin; and I am inclined to believe that it was not a

bird, but a fiend, evoked from underground by Malagigi, and

thither sent on purpose to interrupt the fight. Whether a fiend or

a fowl, the monster flew right at Bayard, and clapped his wings in

his face. Thereat the steed broke loose, and ran madly across the

plain, pursued by the bird, till Bayard plunged into the wood, and

was lost to sight.

Rinaldo and Gradasso, seeing Bayard's escape, agreed to suspend

their battle till they could recover the horse, the object of

contention. Gradasso mounted his steed, and followed the foot-

marks of Bayard into the forest. Rinaldo, never more vexed in

spirit, remained at the spot, Gradasso having promised to return

thither with the horse, if he found him. He did find him, after

long search, for he had the good fortune to hear him neigh. Thus

he became possessed of both the objects for which he had led an

army from his own country, and invaded France. He did not forget

his promise to bring Bayard back to the place where he had left

Rinaldo, but only muttering, "Now I have got him, he little knows

me who expects me to give him up; if Rinaldo wants the horse let

him seek him in India, as I have sought him in France,"--he made

the best of his way to Arles, where his vessels lay; and in

possession of the two objects of his ambition, the horse and the

sword, sailed away to his own country.

ASTOLPHO IN ABYSSINIA

When we last parted with the adventurous paladin Astolpho, he was

just commencing that flight over the countries of the world from

which he promised himself so much gratification. Our readers are

aware that the eagle and the falcon have not so swift a flight as

the Hippogriff on which Astolpho rode. It was not long, therefore,

before the paladin, directing his course toward the southeast,

arrived over that part of Africa where the great river Nile has

its source. Here he alighted, and found himself in the

neighborhood of the capital of Abyssinia, ruled by Senapus, whose

riches and power were immense. His palace was of surpassing

splendor; the bars of the gates, the hinges and locks, were all of

pure gold; in fact, this metal, in that country, is put to all

those uses for which we employ iron. It is so common that they

prefer for ornamental purposes rock crystal, of which all the

columns were made. Precious stones of different kinds, rubies,

emeralds, sapphires, and topazes were set in ornamental designs,

and the walls and ceilings were adorned with pearls.

It is in this country those famous balms grow of which there are

some few plants in that part of Judaea called Gilead. Musk,

ambergris, and numerous gums, so precious in Europe, are here in

their native climate. It is said the Sultan of Egypt pays a vast

tribute to the monarch of this country to hire him not to cut off

the source of the Nile, which he might easily do, and cause the

river to flow in some other direction, thus depriving Egypt of the

source of its fertility.

At the time of Astolpho's arrival in his dominions, this monarch

was in great affliction. In spite of his riches and the precious

productions of his country, he was in danger of dying of hunger.

He was a prey to a flock of obscene birds called Harpies, which

attacked him whenever he sat at meat, and with their claws

snatched, tore, and scattered everything, overturning the vessels,

devouring the food, and infecting what they left with their filthy

touch. It was said this punishment was inflicted upon the king

because when young, and filled with pride and presumption, he had

attempted to invade with an army the terrestrial paradise, which

is situated on the top of a mountain whence the Nile draws its

source. Nor was this his only punishment. He was struck blind.

Astolpho, on arriving in the dominions of this monarch, hastened

to pay him his respects. King Senapus received him graciously, and

ordered a splendid repast to be prepared in honor of his arrival.

While the guests were seated at table, Astolpho filling the place

of dignity at the king's right hand, the horrid scream of the

Harpies was heard in the air, and soon they approached, hovering

over the tables, seizing the food from the dishes, and overturning

everything with the flapping of their broad wings. In vain the

guests struck at them with knives and any weapons which they had,

and Astolpho drew his sword and gave them repeated blows, which

seemed to have no more effect upon them than if their bodies had

been made of tow.

At last Astolpho thought of his horn. He first gave warning to the

king and his guests to stop their ears; then blew a blast. The

Harpies, terrified at the sound, flew away as fast as their wings

could carry them. The paladin mounted his Hippogriff, and pursued

them, blowing his horn as often as he came near them. They

stretched their flight towards the great mountain, at the foot of

which there is a cavern, which is thought to be the mouth of the

infernal abodes. Hither those horrid birds flew, as if to their

home. Having seen them all disappear in the recess, Astolpho cared

not to pursue them farther, but alighting, rolled huge stones into

the mouth of the cave, and piled branches of trees therein, so

that he effectually barred their passage out, and we have no

evidence of their ever having been seen since in the outer air.

After this labor Astolpho refreshed himself by bathing in a

fountain whose pure waters bubbled from a cleft of the rock.

Having rested awhile, an earnest desire seized him of ascending

the mountain which towered above him. The Hippogriff bore him

swiftly upwards, and landed him on the top of the mountain, which

he found to be an extensive plain.

A splendid palace rose in the middle of this plain, whose walls

shone with such brilliancy that mortal eyes could hardly bear the

sight. Astolpho guided the winged horse towards this edifice, and

made him poise himself in the air while he took a leisurely survey

of this favored spot and its environs. It seemed as if nature and

art had striven with one another to see which could do the most

for its embellishment.

Astolpho, on approaching the edifice, saw a venerable man advance

to meet him. This personage was clothed in a long vesture as white

as snow, while a mantle of purple covered his shoulders, and hung

down to the ground. A white beard descended to his middle, and his

hair, of the same color, overshadowed his shoulders. His eyes were

so brilliant that Astolpho felt persuaded that he was a blessed

inhabitant of the heavenly mansions.

The sage, smiling benignantly upon the paladin, who from respect

had dismounted from his horse, said to him: "Noble chevalier, know

that it is by the Divine will you have been brought to the

terrestrial paradise. Your mortal nature could not have borne to

scale these heights and reach these seats of bliss if it were not

the will of Heaven that you should be instructed in the means to

succor Charles, and to sustain the glory of our holy faith. I am

prepared to impart the needed counsels; but before I begin let me

welcome you to our sojourn. I doubt not your long fast and distant

journey have given you a good appetite."

The aspect of the venerable man filled the prince with admiration;

but his surprise ceased when he learned from him that he was that

one of the Apostles of our Lord to whom he said, "I will that thou

tarry till I come."

St. John, conducting Astolpho, rejoined his companions. These were

the patriarch Enoch and the prophet Elijah; neither of whom had

yet seen his dying day, but, taken from our lower world, were

dwelling in a region of peace and joy, in a climate of eternal

spring, till the last trumpet shall sound.

The three holy inhabitants of the terrestrial paradise received

Astolpho with the greatest kindness, carried him to a pleasant

apartment, and took great care of the Hippogriff, to whom they

gave such food as suited him, while to the prince they presented

fruits so delicious that he felt inclined to excuse our first

parents for their sin in eating them without permission.

Astolpho, having recruited his strength, not only by these

excellent fruits, but also by sweet sleep, roused himself at the

first blush of dawn, and as soon as he left his chamber met the

beloved Apostle coming to seek him. St. John took him by the hand,

and told him many things relating to the past and the future.

Among others, he said, "Son, let me tell you what is now going on

in France. Orlando, the illustrious prince who received at his

birth the endowment of strength and courage more than mortal,

raised up as was Samson of old to be the champion of the true

faith, has been guilty of the basest ingratitude in leaving the

Christian camp when it most needed the support of his arm, to run

after a Saracen princess, whom he would fain marry, though she

scorns him. To punish him his reason has been taken away, so that

he runs naked through the land, over mountains and through

valleys, without a ray of intelligence. The duration of his

punishment has been fixed at three months, and that time having

nearly expired, you have been brought hither to learn from us the

means by which the reason of Orlando may be restored. True, you

will be obliged to make a journey with me, and we must even leave

the earth, and ascend to the moon, for it is in that planet we are

to seek the remedy for the madness of the paladin. I propose to

make our journey this evening, as soon as the moon appears over

our head."

As soon as the sun sunk beneath the seas, and the moon presented

its luminous disk, the holy man had the chariot brought out in

which he was accustomed to make excursions among the stars, the

same which was employed long ago to convey Elijah up from earth.

The saint made Astolpho seat himself beside him, took the reins,

and giving the word to the coursers, they bore them upward with

astonishing celerity.

At length they reached the great continent of the Moon. Its

surface appeared to be of polished steel, with here and there a

spot which, like rust, obscured its brightness. The paladin was

astonished to see that the earth, with all its seas and rivers,

seemed but an insignificant spot in the distance.

The prince discovered in this region so new to him rivers, lakes,

plains, hills, and valleys. Many beautiful cities and castles

enriched the landscape. He saw also vast forests, and heard in

them the sound of horns and the barking of dogs, which led him to

conclude that the nymphs were following the chase.

The knight, filled with wonder at all he saw, was conducted by the

saint to a valley, where he stood amazed at the riches strewed all

around him. Well he might be so, for that valley was the

receptacle of things lost on earth, either by men's fault, or by

the effect of time and chance. Let no one suppose we speak here of

kingdoms or of treasures; they are the toys of Fortune, which she

dispenses in turning her wheel; we speak of things which she can

neither give nor take away. Such are reputations, which appear at

one time so brilliant, and a short time after are heard of no

more. Here, also, are countless vows and prayers for unattainable

objects, lovers' sighs and tears, time spent in gaming, dressing,

and doing nothing, the leisure of the dull and the intentions of

the lazy, baseless projects, intrigues, and plots; these and such

like things fill all the valley.

Astolpho had a great desire to understand all that he saw, and

which appeared to him so extraordinary. Among the rest, he

observed a great mountain of blown bladders, from which issued

indistinct noises. The saint told him these were the dynasties of

Assyrian and Persian kings, once the wonder of the earth, of which

now scarce the name remains.

Astolpho could not help laughing when the saint said to him, "All

these hooks of silver and gold that you see are the gifts of

courtiers to princes, made in the hope of getting something better

in return." He also showed him garlands of flowers in which snares

were concealed; these were flatteries and adulations, meant to

deceive. But nothing was so comical as the sight of numerous

grasshoppers which had burst their lungs with chirping. These, he

told him, were sonnets, odes, and dedications, addressed by venal

poets to great people.

The paladin beheld with wonder what seemed a lake of spilled milk.

"It is," said the saint, "the charity done by frightened misers on

their death-beds." It would take too long to tell all that the

valley contained: meanness, affectations, pretended virtues, and

concealed vices were there in abundance.

Among the rest Astolpho perceived many days of his own lost, and

many imprudent sallies which he had made, and would have been glad

not to have been reminded of. But he also saw among so many lost

things a great abundance of one thing which men are apt to think

they all possess, and do not think it necessary to pray for,--

good sense. This commodity appeared under the form of a liquor,

most light and apt to evaporate. It was therefore kept in vials,

firmly sealed. One of these was labelled, "The sense of the

Paladin Orlando."

All the bottles were ticketed, and the sage placed one in

Astolpho's hand, which he found was his own. It was more than half

full. He was surprised to find there many other vials which

contained almost the whole of the wits of many persons who passed

among men for wise. Ah, how easy it is to lose one's reason! Some

lose theirs by yielding to the sway of the passions; some in

braving tempests and shoals in search of wealth; some by trusting

too much to the promises of the great; some by setting their

hearts on trifles. As might have been expected, the bottles which

held the wits of astrologers, inventors, metaphysicians, and above

all, of poets, were in general the best filled of all.

Astolpho took his bottle, put it to his nose, and inhaled it all;

and Turpin assures us that he was for a long time afterwards as

sage as one could wish; but the Archbishop adds that there was

reason to fear that some of the precious fluid afterwards found

its way back into the bottle. The paladin took also the bottle

which belonged to Orlando. It was a large one, and quite full.

Before quitting the planetary region Astolpho was conducted to an

edifice on the borders of a river. He was shown an immense hall

full of bundles of silk, linen, cotton, and wool. A thousand

different colors, brilliant or dull, some quite black, were among

these skeins. In one part of the hall an old woman was busy

winding off yarns from all these different bundles. When she had

finished a skein another ancient dame took it and placed it with

others; a third selected from the fleeces spun, and mingled them

in due proportions. The paladin inquired what all this might be.

"These old women," said the saint, "are the Fates, who spin,

measure, and terminate the lives of mortals. As long as the thread

stretches in one of those skeins, so long does the mortal enjoy

the light of day; but nature and death are on the alert to shut

the eyes of those whose thread is spun."

Each one of the skeins had a label of gold, silver, or iron,

bearing the name of the individual to whom it belonged. An old

man, who, in spite of the burden of years, seemed brisk and

active, ran without ceasing to fill his apron with these labels,

and carried them away to throw them into the river, whose name was

Lethe. When he reached the shore of the river the old man shook

out his apron, and the labels sunk to the bottom. A small number

only floated for a time, hardly one in a thousand. Numberless

birds, hawks, crows, and vultures hovered over the stream, with

clamorous cries, and strove to snatch from the water some of these

names; but they were too heavy for them, and after a while the

birds were forced to let them drop into the river of oblivion. But

two beautiful swans, of snowy whiteness, gathered some few of the

names, and returned with them to the shore, where a lovely nymph

received them from their beaks, and carried them to a temple

placed upon a hill, and suspended them for all time upon a sacred

column, on which stood the statue of Immortality.

Astolpho was amazed at all this, and asked his guide to explain

it. He replied, "The old man is Time. All the names upon the

tickets would be immortal if the old man did not plunge them into

the river of oblivion. Those clamorous birds which make vain

efforts to save certain of the names are flatterers, pensioners,

venal rhymesters, who do their best to rescue from oblivion the

unworthy names of their patrons; but all in vain; they may keep

them from their fate a little while, but ere long the river of

oblivion must swallow them all.

"The swans, that with harmonious strains carry certain names to

the temple of Eternal Memory, are the great poets, who save from

oblivion worse than death the names of those they judge worthy of

immortality. Swans of this kind are rare. Let monarchs know the

true breed, and fail not to nourish with care such as may chance

to appear in their time."

THE WAR IN AFRICA

When Astolpho had descended to the earth with the precious phial,

St. John showed him a plant of marvellous virtues, with which he

told him he had only to touch the eyes of the king of Abyssinia to

restore him to sight. "That important service," said the saint,

"added to your having delivered him from the Harpies, will induce

him to give you an army wherewith to attack the Africans in their

rear, and force them to return from France to defend their own

country." The saint also instructed him how to lead his troops in

safety across the great deserts, where caravans are often

overwhelmed with moving columns of sand. Astolpho, fortified with

ample instructions, remounted the Hippogriff, thanked the saint,

received his blessing, and took his flight down to the level

country.

Keeping the course of the river Nile, he soon arrived at the

capital of Abyssinia, and rejoined Senapus. The joy of the king

was great when he heard again the voice of the hero who had

delivered him from the Harpies. Astolpho touched his eyes with the

plant which he had brought from the terrestrial paradise, and

restored their sight. The king's gratitude was unbounded. He

begged him to name a reward, promising to grant it, whatever it

might be. Astolpho asked an army to go to the assistance of

Charlemagne, and the king not only granted him a hundred thousand

men, but offered to lead them himself.

The night before the day appointed for the departure of the troops

Astolpho mounted his winged horse, and directed his flight towards

a mountain, whence the fierce South-wind issues, whose blast

raises the sands of the Nubian desert, and whirls them onward in

overwhelming clouds. The paladin, by the advice of St. John, had

prepared himself with a leather bag, which he placed adroitly,

with its mouth open, over the vent whence issues this terrible

wind. At the first dawn of morning the wind rushed from its cavern

to resume its daily course, and was caught in the bag, and

securely tied up. Astolpho, delighted with his prize, returned to

his army, placed himself at their head, and commenced his march.

The Abyssinians traversed without danger or difficulty those vast

fields of sand which separate their country from the kingdoms of

Northern Africa, for the terrible South-wind, taken completely

captive, had not force enough left to blow out a candle.

Senapus was distressed that he could not furnish any cavalry, for

his country, rich in camels and elephants, was destitute of

horses. This difficulty the saint had foreseen, and had taught

Astolpho the means of remedying. He now put those means in

operation. Having reached a place whence he beheld a vast plain

and the sea, he chose from his troops those who appeared to be the

best made and the most intelligent. These he caused to be arranged

in squadrons at the foot of a lofty mountain which bordered the

plain, and he himself mounted to the summit to carry into effect

his great design. Here he found vast quantities of fragments of

rock and pebbles. These he set rolling down the mountain's side,

and, wonderful to relate, as they rolled they grew in size, made

themselves bodies, legs, necks, and long faces. Next they began to

neigh, to curvet, to scamper on all sides over the plain. Some

were bay, some roan, some dapple, some chestnut. The troops at the

foot of the mountain exerted themselves to catch these new-created

horses, which they easily did, for the miracle had been so

considerate as to provide all the horses with bridles and saddles.

Astolpho thus suddenly found himself supplied with an excellent

corps of cavalry, not fewer (as Archbishop Turpin asserts) than

eighty thousand strong. With these troops Astolpho reduced all the

country to subjection, and at last arrived before the walls of

Agramant's capital city, Biserta, to which he laid siege.

We must now return to the camp of the Christians, which lay before

Arles, to which city the Saracens had retired after being defeated

in a night attack led on by Rinaldo. Agramant here received the

tidings of the invasion of his country by a fresh enemy, the

Abyssinians, and learned that Biserta was in danger of falling

into their hands. He took counsel of his officers, and decided to

send an embassy to Charles, proposing that the whole quarrel

should be submitted to the combat of two warriors, one from each

side, according to the issue of which it should be decided which

party should pay tribute to the other, and the war should cease.

Charlemagne, who had not heard of the favorable turn which affairs

had taken in Africa, readily agreed to this proposal, and Rinaldo

was selected on the part of the Christians to sustain the combat.

The Saracens selected Rogero for their champion. Rogero was still

in the Saracen camp, kept there by honor alone, for his mind had

been opened to the truth of the Christian faith by the arguments

of Bradamante, and he had resolved to leave the party of the

infidels on the first favorable opportunity, and to join the

Christian side. But his honor forbade him to do this while his

former friends were in distress; and thus he waited for what time

might bring forth, when he was startled by the announcement that

he had been selected to uphold the cause of the Saracens against

the Christians, and that his foe was to be Rinaldo, the brother of

Bradamante.

While Rogero was overwhelmed with this intelligence Bradamante on

her side felt the deepest distress at hearing of the proposed

combat. If Rogero should fall she felt that no other man living

was worthy of her love; and if, on the other hand, Heaven should

resolve to punish France by the death of her chosen champion,

Bradamante would have to deplore her brother, so dear to her, and

be no less completely severed from the object of her affections.

While the fair lady gave herself up to these sad thoughts, the

sage enchantress, Melissa, suddenly appeared before her. "Fear

not, my daughter," said she, "I shall find a way to interrupt this

combat which so distresses you."

Meanwhile Rinaldo and Rogero prepared their weapons for the

conflict. Rinaldo had the choice, and decided that it should be on

foot, and with no weapons but the battle-axe and poniard. The

place assigned was a plain between the camp of Charlemagne and the

walls of Arles.

Hardly had the dawn announced the day appointed for this memorable

combat, when heralds proceeded from both sides to mark the lists.

Erelong the African troops were seen to advance from the city,

Agramant at their head; his brilliant arms adorned in the Moorish

fashion, his horse a bay, with a white star on his forehead.

Rogero marched at his side, and some of the greatest warriors of

the Saracen camp attended him, bearing the various parts of his

armor and weapons. Charlemagne, on his part, proceeded from his

intrenchments, ranged his troops in semicircle, and stood

surrounded by his peers and paladins. Some of them bore portions

of the armor of Rinaldo, the celebrated Ogier, the Dane, bearing

the helmet which Rinaldo took from Mambrino. Duke Namo of Bavaria

and Salomon of Bretagne bore two axes, of equal weight, prepared

for the occasion.

The terms of the combat were then sworn to with the utmost

solemnity by all parties. It was agreed that if from either part

any attempt was made to interrupt the battle both combatants

should turn their arms against the party which should be guilty of

the interruption; and both monarchs assented to the condition that

in such case the champion of the offending party should be

discharged from his allegiance, and at liberty to transfer his

arms to the other side.

When all the preparations were concluded the monarchs and their

attendants retired each to his own side, and the champions were

left alone. The two warriors advanced with measured steps towards

each other, and met in the middle of the space. They attacked one

another at the same moment, and the air resounded with the blows

they gave. Sparks flew from their battle-axes, while the velocity

with which they managed their weapons astonished the beholders.

Rogero, always remembering that his antagonist was the brother of

his betrothed, could not aim a deadly wound; he strove only to

ward off those levelled against himself. Rinaldo, on the other

hand, much as he esteemed Rogero, spared not his blows, for he

eagerly desired victory for his own sake, and for the sake of his

country and his faith.

The Saracens soon perceived that their champion fought feebly, and

gave not to Rinaldo such blows as he received from him. His

disadvantage was so marked that anxiety and shame were manifest on

the countenance of Agramant. Melissa, one of the most acute

enchantresses that ever lived, seized this moment to disguise

herself under the form of Rodomont, that rude and impetuous

warrior, who had now for some time been absent from the Saracen

camp. Approaching Agramant, she said, "How could you, my lord,

have the imprudence of selecting a young man without experience to

oppose the most redoubtable warrior of France? Surely you must

have been regardless of the honor of your arms, and of the fate of

your empire! But it is not too late. Break without delay the

agreement which is sure to result in your ruin." So saying, she

addressed the troops who stood near, "Friends," said she, "follow

me; under my guidance every one of you will be a match for a score

of those feeble Christians." Agramant, delighted at seeing

Rodomont once more at his side, gave his consent, and the

Saracens, at the instant, couched their lances, set spurs to their

steeds, and swept down upon the French. Melissa, when she saw her

work successful, disappeared.

Rinaldo and Rogero, seeing the truce broken, and the two armies

engaged in general conflict, stopped their battle; their martial

fury ceased at once, they joined hands, and resolved to act no

more on either side until it should be clearly ascertained which

party had failed to observe its oath. Both renewed their promise

to abandon forever the party which had been thus false and

perjured.

Meanwhile, the Christians, after the first moment of surprise, met

the Saracens with courage redoubled by rage at the treachery of

their foes. Guido the Wild, brother and rival of Rinaldo, Griffon

and Aquilant, sons of Oliver, and numerous others whose names have

already been celebrated in our recitals, beat back the assailants,

and at last, after prodigious slaughter, forced them to take

shelter within the walls of Arles.

We will now return to Orlando, whom we last heard of as furiously

mad, and doing a thousand acts of violence in his senseless rage.

One day he came to the borders of a stream which intercepted his

course. He swam across it, for he could swim like an otter, and on

the other side saw a peasant watering his horse. He seized the

animal, in spite of the resistance of the peasant, and rode it

with furious speed till he arrived at the sea-coast, where Spain

is divided from Africa by only a narrow strait. At the moment of

his arrival a vessel had just put off to cross the strait. She was

full of people who, with glass in hand, seemed to be taking a

merry farewell of the land, wafted by a favorable breeze.

The frantic Orlando cried out to them to stop and take him in; but

they, having no desire to admit a madman to their company, paid

him no attention. The paladin thought this behavior very uncivil;

and by force of blows made his horse carry him into the water in

pursuit of the ship. The wretched animal soon had only his head

above water; but as Orlando urged him forward, nothing was left

for the poor beast but either to die or swim over to Africa.

Already Orlando had lost sight of the bark; distance and the swell

of the sea completely hid it from his sight. He continued to press

his horse forward, till at last it could struggle no more, and

sunk beneath him. Orlando, nowise concerned, stretched out his

nervous arms, puffing the salt water from before his mouth, and

carried his head above the waves. Fortunately they were not rough,

scarce a breath of wind agitated the surface; otherwise, the

invincible Orlando would then have met his death. But fortune,

which it is said favors fools, delivered him from this danger, and

landed him safe on the shore of Ceuta. Here he rambled along the

shore till he came to where the black army of Astolpho held its

camp.

Now it happened, just before this time, that a vessel filled with

prisoners which Rodomont had taken at the bridge had arrived, and,

not knowing of the presence of the Abyssinian army, had sailed

right into port, where of course the prisoners and their captors

changed places, the former being set at liberty and received with

all joy, the latter sent to serve in the galleys. Astolpho thus

found himself surrounded with Christian knights, and he and his

friends were exchanging greetings and felicitations, when a noise

was heard in the camp, and seemed to increase every moment.

Astolpho and his friends seized their weapons, mounted their

horses, and rode to the quarter whence the noise proceeded.

Imagine their astonishment when they saw that the tumult was

caused by a single man, perfectly naked, and browned with dirt and

exposure, but of a force and fury so terrible that he overturned

all that offered to lay hands on him.

Astolpho, Dudon, Oliver, and Florimart gazed at him with

amazement. It was with difficulty they knew him. Astolpho, who had

been warned of his condition by his holy monitor, was the first to

recognize him. As the paladins closed round Orlando, the madman

dealt one and another a blow of his fist, which, if they had not

been in armor, or he had had any weapon, would probably have

despatched them; as it was, Dudon and Astolpho measured their

length on the sand. But Florimart seized him from behind,

Sansonnet and another grasped his legs, and at last they succeeded

in securing him with ropes. They took him to the water-side and

washed him well, and then Astolpho, having first bandaged his

mouth so that he could not breathe except through his nose,

brought the precious phial, uncorked it, and placed it adroitly

under his nostrils, when the good Orlando took it all up in one

breath. O marvellous prodigy! The paladin recovered in an instant

all his intelligence. He felt like one who had awakened from a

painful dream, in which he had believed that monsters were about

to tear him to pieces. He seemed prostrated, silent, and abashed.

Florismart, Oliver, and Astolpho stood gazing upon him, while he

turned his eyes around and on himself. He seemed surprised to find

himself naked, bound, and stretched on the sea-shore. After a few

moments he recognized his friends, and spoke to them in a tone so

tender that they hastened to unbind him, and to supply him with

garments. Then they exerted themselves to console him, to diminish

the weight with which his spirits were oppressed, and to make him

forget the wretched condition into which he had been sunk.

Orlando, in recovering his reason, found himself also delivered

from his insane attachment to the queen of Cathay. His heart felt

now no further influenced by the recollection of her than to be

moved with an ardent desire to retrieve his fame by some

distinguished exploit. Astolpho would gladly have yielded to him

the chief command of the army, but Orlando would not take from the

friend to whom he owed so much the glory of the campaign; but in

everything the two paladins acted in concert, and united their

counsels. They proposed to make a general assault on the city of

Biserta, and were only waiting a favorable moment, when their plan

was interrupted by new events.

Agramant, after the bloody battle which followed the infraction of

the truce, found himself so weak that he saw it was in vain to

attempt to remain in France. So, in concert with Sobrino, the

bravest and most trusted of his chiefs, he embarked to return to

his own country, having previously sent off his few remaining

troops in the same direction. The vessel which carried Agramant

and Sobrino approached the shore where the army of Astolpho lay

encamped before Biserta, and having discovered this fact before it

was too late, the king commanded the pilot to steer eastward, with

a view to seek protection of the King of Egypt. But the weather

becoming rough, he consented to the advice of his companions, and

sought harbor in an island which lies between Sicily and Africa.

There he found Gradasso, the warlike king of Sericane, who had

come to France to possess himself of the horse Bayard and the

sword Durindana; and having procured both these prizes was

returning to his own country.

The two kings, who had been companions in arms under the walls of

Paris, embraced one another affectionately. Gradasso learned with

regret the reverses of Agramant, and offered him his troops and

his person. He strongly deprecated resorting to Egypt for aid.

"Remember the great Pompey," said he, "and shun that fatal shore.

My plan," he continued, "is this: I mean to challenge Orlando to

single combat. Possessed of such a sword and steed as mine, if he

were made of steel or bronze, he could not escape me. He being

removed, there will be no difficulty in driving back the

Abyssinians. We will rouse against them the Moslem nations from

the other side of the Nile, the Arabians, Persians, and Chaldeans,

who will soon make Senapus recall his army to defend his own

territories."

Agramant approved this advice except in one particular. "It is for

me," said he, "to combat Orlando; I cannot with honor devolve that

duty on another."

"Let us adopt a third course," said the aged warrior Sobrino. "I

would not willingly remain a simple spectator of such a contest.

Let us send three squires to the shore of Africa to challenge

Orlando and any two of his companions in arms to meet us three in

this island of Lampedusa."

This counsel was adopted; the three squires sped on their way; and

now presented themselves, and rehearsed their message to the

Christian knights.

Orlando was delighted, and rewarded the squires with rich gifts.

He had already resolved to seek Gradasso and compel him to restore

Durindana, which he had learned was in his possession. For his two

companions the Count chose his faithful friend Florismart and his

cousin Oliver.

The three warriors embarked, and sailing with a favorable wind,

the second morning showed them, on their right, the island where

this important battle was to be fought. Orlando and his two

companions, having landed, pitched their tent. Agramant had placed

his opposite.

Next morning, as soon as Aurora brightened the edges of the

horizon, the warriors of both parties armed themselves and mounted

their horses. They took their positions, face to face, lowered

their lances, placed them in rest, clapped spurs to their horses,

and flew to the charge. Orlando met the charge of Gradasso. The

paladin was unmoved, but his horse could not sustain the terrible

shock of Bayard. He recoiled, staggered, and fell some paces

behind. Orlando tried to raise him, but, finding his efforts

unavailing, seized his shield, and drew his famous Balisardo.

Meanwhile Agramant and the brave Oliver gained no advantage, one

or the other; but Florismart unhorsed the King Sobrino. Having

brought his foe to the ground, he would not pursue his victory,

but hastened to attack Gradasso, who had overthrown Orlando.

Seeing him thus engaged, Orlando would not interfere, but ran with

sword upraised upon Sobrino, and with one blow deprived him of

sense and motion. Believing him dead, he next turned to aid his

beloved Florismart. That brave paladin, neither in horse nor arms

equal to his antagonist, could but parry and evade the blows of

the terrible Durindana. Orlando, eager to succor him, was delayed

for a moment in securing and mounting the horse of the King

Sobrino. It was but an instant, and with sword upraised, he rushed

upon Gradasso who, noways disconcerted at the onset of this second

foe, shouted his defiance, and thrust at him with his sword, but,

having miscalculated the distance, scarcely reached him, and

failed to pierce his mail. Orlando, in return, dealt him a blow

with Balisardo, which wounded as it fell face, breast, and thigh,

and, if he had been a little nearer, would have cleft him in

twain. Sobrino, by this time recovered from his swoon, though

severely wounded, raised himself on his legs, and looked to see

how he might aid his friends. Observing Agramant hard pressed by

Oliver, he thrust his sword into the bowels of the latter's horse,

which fell, and bore down his master, entangling his leg as he

fell, so that Oliver could not extricate himself. Florismart saw

the danger of his friend, and ran upon Sobrino with his horse,

overthrew him, and then turned to defend himself from Agramant.

They were not unequally matched, for though Agramant, mounted on

Brigliadoro, had an advantage over Florismart, whose horse was but

indifferent, yet Agramant had received a serious wound in his

encounter with Oliver.

Nothing could exceed the fury of the encounter between Orlando and

Gradasso. Durindana, in the hands of Gradasso, clove asunder

whatever it struck; but such was the skill of Orlando, who

perfectly knew the danger to which he was exposed from a stroke of

that weapon, it had not yet struck him in such a way as to inflict

a wound. Meanwhile, Gradasso was bleeding from many wounds, and

his rage and incaution increased every moment. In his desperation

he lifted Durindana with both hands, and struck so terrible a blow

full on the helmet of Orlando, that for a moment it stunned the

paladin. He dropped the reins, and his frightened horse scoured

with him over the plain. Gradasso turned to pursue him, but at

that moment saw Florismart in the very act of striking a fatal

blow at Agramant, whom he had unhorsed. While Florismart was

wholly intent upon completing his victory, Gradasso plunged his

sword into his side. Florismart fell from his horse, and bathed

the plain with his blood.

Orlando recovered himself just in time to see the deed. Whether

rage or grief predominated in his breast, I cannot tell; but,

seizing Balisardo with fury, his first blow fell upon Agramant,

who was nearest to him, and smote his head from his shoulders. At

this sight Gradasso for the first time felt his courage sink, and

a dark presentiment of death came over him. He hardly stood on his

defence when Orlando cast himself upon him, and gave him a fatal

thrust. The sword penetrated his ribs, and came out a palm's

breadth on the other side of his body.

Thus fell beneath the sword of the most illustrious paladin of

France the bravest warrior of the Saracen host. Orlando then, as

if despising his victory, leaped lightly to the ground, and ran to

his dear friend Florismart, embraced him, and bathed him with his

tears. Florismart still breathed. He could even command his voice

to utter a few parting words: "Dear friend, do not forget me,--

give me your prayers,--and oh! be a brother to Flordelis." He died

in uttering her name.

After a few moments given to grief Orlando turned to look for his

other companion and his late foes. Oliver lay oppressed with the

weight of his horse, from which he had in vain struggled to

liberate himself. Orlando extricated him with difficulty; he then

raised Sobrino from the earth, and committed him to his squire,

treating him as gently as if he had been his own brother. For this

terrible warrior was the most generous of men to a fallen foe. He

took Bayard and Brigliadoro, with the arms of the conquered

knights; their bodies and their other spoils he remitted to their

attendants.

But who can tell the grief of Flordelis when she saw the warriors

return, and found not Florismart as usual after absence hasten to

her side. She knew by the aspect of the others that her lord was

slain. At the thought, and before the question could pass her

lips, she fell senseless upon the ground. When life returned, and

she learned the truth of her worst fears, she bitterly upbraided

herself that she had let him depart without her. "I might have

saved him by a single cry when his enemy dealt him that

treacherous blow, or I might have thrown myself between and given

my worthless life for his. Or if no more, I might have heard his

last words, I might have given him a last kiss." So she lamented,

and could not be comforted.

ROGERO AND BRADAMANTE

After the interruption of the combat with Rinaldo, as we have

related, Rogero was perplexed with doubts what course to take. The

terms of the treaty required him to abandon Agramant, who had

broken it, and to transfer his allegiance to Charlemagne; and his

love for Bradamante called him in the same direction; but

unwillingness to desert his prince and leader in the hour of

distress forbade this course. Embarking, therefore, for Africa, he

took his way to rejoin the Saracen army; but was arrested midway

by a storm which drove the vessel on a rock. The crew took to

their boat, but that was quickly swamped in the waves, and Rogero

with the rest were compelled to swim for their lives. Then while

buffeting the waves Rogero bethought him of his sin in so long

delaying his Christian profession, and vowed in his heart that, if

he should live to reach the land, he would no longer delay to be

baptized. His vows were heard and answered; he succeeded in

reaching the shore, and was aided and relieved on landing by a

pious hermit, whose cell overlooked the sea. From him he received

baptism, having first passed some days with him, partaking his

humble fare, and receiving instruction in the doctrines of the

Christian faith.

While these things were going on, Rinaldo, who had set out on his

way to seek Gradasso and recover Bayard from him, hearing on his

way of the great things which were doing in Africa, repaired

thither to bear his part in them. He arrived too late to do more

than join his friends in lamenting the loss of Florismart, and to

rejoice with them in their victory over the Pagan knights. On the

death of their king the Africans gave up the contest, Biserta

submitted, and the Christian knights had only to dismiss their

forces, and return home. Astolpho took leave of his Abyssinian

army, and sent them back laden with spoil to their own country,

not forgetting to intrust to them the bag which held the winds, by

means of which they were enabled to cross the sandy desert again

without danger, and did not untie it till they reached their own

country.

Orlando now, with Oliver, who much needed the surgeon's care, and

Sobrino, to whom equal attention was shown, sailed in a swift

vessel to Sicily, bearing with him the body of Florismart, to be

laid in Christian earth. Rinaldo accompanied them, as did

Sansonnet and the other Christian leaders. Arrived at Sicily, the

funeral was solemnized with all the rites of religion, and with

the profound grief of those who had known Florismart, or had heard

of his fame. Then they resumed their course, steering for

Marseilles. But Oliver's wound grew worse instead of better, and

his sufferings so distressed his friends that they conferred

together, not knowing what to do. Then said the pilot, "We are not

far from an isle where a holy hermit dwells alone in the midst of

the sea. It is said none seek his counsel or his aid in vain. He

hath wrought marvellous cures, and if you resort to that holy man

without doubt he can heal the knight." Orlando bade him steer

thither, and soon the bark was laid safely beside the lonely rock;

the wounded man was lowered into their boat, and carried by the

crew to the hermit's cell. It was the same hermit with whom Rogero

had taken refuge after his shipwreck, by whom he had been

baptized, and with whom he was now staying, absorbed in sacred

studies and meditations.

The holy man received Orlando and the rest with kindness, and

inquired their errand; and being told that they had come for help

for one who, warring for the Christian faith, was brought to

perilous pass by a sad wound, he straightway undertook the cure.

His applications were simple, but they were seconded by his

prayers. The paladin was soon relieved from pain, and in a few

days his foot was perfectly restored to soundness. Sobrino, as

soon as he perceived the holy monk perform that wonder, cast aside

his false prophet, and with contrite heart owned the true God, and

demanded baptism at his hands. The hermit granted his request, and

also by his prayers restored him to health, while all the

Christian knights rejoiced in his conversion almost as much as at

the restoration of Oliver. More than all Rogero felt joy and

gratitude, and daily grew in grace and faith.

Rogero was known by fame to all the Christian knights, but not

even Rinaldo knew him by sight, though he had proved his prowess

in combat. Sobrino made him known to them, and great was the joy

of all when they found one whose valor and courtesy were renowned

through the world no longer an enemy and unbeliever, but a convert

and champion of the true faith. All press about the knight; one

grasps his hand, another locks him fast in his embrace; but more

than all the rest, Rinaldo cherished him, for he more than any

knew his worth.

It was not long before Rogero confided to his friend the hopes he

entertained of a union with his sister, and Rinaldo frankly gave

his sanction to the proposal. But causes unknown to the paladin

were at that very time interposing obstacles to its success.

The fame of the beauty and worth of Bradamante had reached the

ears of the Grecian Emperor, Constantine, and he had sent to

Charlemagne to demand the hand of his niece for Leo, his son, and

the heir to his dominions. Duke Aymon, her father, had only

reserved his consent until he should first have spoken with his

son Rinaldo, now absent.

The warriors now prepared to resume their voyage. Rogero took a

tender farewell of the good hermit who had taught him the true

faith. Orlando restored to him the horse and arms which were

rightly his, not even asserting his claim to Balisarda, that sword

which he himself had won from the enchantress.

The hermit gave his blessing to the band, and they reembarked. The

passage was speedy, and very soon they arrived in the harbor of

Marseilles.

Astolpho, when he had dismissed his troops, mounted the

Hippogriff, and at one flight shot over to Sardinia, thence to

Corsica, thence, turning slightly to the left, hovered over

Provence, and alighted in the neighborhood of Marseilles. There he

did what he had been commanded to do by the holy saint; he

unbridled the Hippogriff, and turned him loose to seek his own

retreats, never more to be galled with saddle or bit. The horn had

lost its marvellous power ever since the visit to the moon.

Astolpho reached Marseilles the very day when Orlando, Rinaldo,

Oliver, Sobrino, and Rogero arrived there. Charles had already

heard the news of the defeat of the Saracen kings, and all the

accompanying events. On learning the approach of the gallant

knights, he sent forward some of his most illustrious nobles to

receive them, and himself, with the rest of his court, kings,

dukes, and peers, the queen, and a fair and gorgeous band of

ladies, set forward from Arles to meet them.

No sooner were the mutual greetings interchanged, than Orlando and

his friends led forward Rogero, and presented him to the Emperor.

They vouch him son of Rogero, Duke of Risa, one of the most

renowned of Christian warriors, by adverse fortune stolen in his

infancy, and brought up by Saracens in the false faith, now by a

kind Providence converted, and restored to fill the place his

father once held among the foremost champions of the throne and

Church.

Rogero had alighted from his horse, and stood respectfully before

the Emperor. Charlemagne bade him remount and ride beside him; and

omitted nothing which might do him honor in sight of his martial

train. With pomp triumphal and with festive cheer the troop

returned to the city; the streets were decorated with garlands,

the houses hung with rich tapestry, and flowers fell like rain

upon the conquering host from the hands of fair dames and damsels,

from every balcony and window. So welcomed, the mighty Emperor

passed on till he reached the royal palace, where many days he

feasted, high in hall, with his lords, amid tourney, revel, dance,

and song.

When Rinaldo told his father, Duke Aymon, how he had promised his

sister to Rogero, his father heard him with indignation, having

set his heart on seeing her united to the Grecian Emperor's son.

The Lady Beatrice, her mother, also appealed to Bradamante herself

to reject a knight who had neither title nor lands, and give the

preference to one who would make her Empress of the wide Levant.

But Bradamante, though respect forbade her to refuse her mother's

entreaty, would not promise to do what her heart repelled, and

answered only with a sigh, until she was alone, and then gave a

loose to tears.

Meanwhile Rogero, indignant that a stranger should presume to rob

him of his bride, determined to seek the Prince of Greece, and

defy him to mortal combat. With this design he donned his armor,

but exchanged his crest and emblazonment, and bore instead a white

unicorn upon a crimson field. He chose a trusty squire, and,

commanding him not to address him as Rogero, rode on his quest.

Having crossed the Rhine and the Austrian countries into Hungary,

he followed the course of the Danube till he reached Belgrade.

There he saw the imperial ensigns spread, and white pavilions,

thronged with troops, before the town. For the Emperor Constantine

was laying siege to the city to recover it from the Bulgarians,

who had taken it from him not long before.

A river flowed between the camp of the Emperor and the Bulgarians,

and at the moment when Rogero approached, a skirmish had begun

between the parties from either camp, who had approached the

stream for the purpose of watering. The Greeks in that affray were

four to one, and drove back the Bulgarians in precipitate rout.

Rogero, seeing this, and animated only by his hatred of the

Grecian prince, dashed into the middle of the flying mass, calling

aloud on the fugitives to turn. He encountered first a leader of

the Grecian host in splendid armor, a nephew of the Emperor, as

dear to him as a son. Rogero's lance pierced shield and armor, and

stretched the warrior breathless on the plain. Another and another

fell before him, and astonishment and terror arrested the advance

of the Greeks, while the Bulgarians, catching courage from the

cavalier, rally, change front, and chase the Grecian troops, who

fly in their turn. Leo, the prince, was at a distance when this

sudden skirmish rose, but not so far but that he could see

distinctly, from an elevated position which he held, how the

changed battle was all the work of one man, and could not choose

but admire the bravery and prowess with which it was done. He knew

by the blazonry displayed that the champion was not of the

Bulgarian army, though he furnished aid to them. Although he

suffered by his valor, the prince could not wish him ill, for his

admiration surpassed his resentment. By this time the Greeks had

regained the river, and crossing it by fording or swimming, some

made their escape, leaving many more prisoners in the hands of the

Bulgarians. Rogero, learning from some of the captives that Leo

was at a point some distance down the river, rode thither with a

view to meet him, but arrived not before the Greek prince had

retired beyond the stream, and broken up the bridge. Day was

spent, and Rogero, wearied, looked round for a shelter for the

night. He found it in a cottage, where he soon yielded himself to

repose. It so happened, a knight who had narrowly escaped Rogero's

sword in the late battle also found shelter in the same cottage,

and, recognizing the armor of the unknown knight, easily found

means of securing him as he slept, and next morning carried him in

chains and delivered him to the Emperor. By him he was in turn

delivered to his sister Theodora, mother of the young knight, the

first victim of Rogero's spear. By her he was cast into a dungeon,

till her ingenuity could devise a death sufficiently painful to

satiate her revenge.

Bradamante, meanwhile, to escape her father's and mother's

importunity, had begged a boon of Charlemagne, which the monarch

pledged his royal word to grant; it was that she should not be

compelled to marry any one unless he should first vanquish her in

single combat. The Emperor therefore proclaimed a tournament in

these words: "He that would wed Duke Aymon's daughter must contend

with the sword against that dame, from the sun's rise to his

setting; and if, in that time, he is not overcome the lady shall

be his."

Duke Aymon and the Lady Beatrice, though much incensed at the

course things had taken, brought their daughter to court, to await

the day appointed for the tournament. Bradamante, not finding

there him whom her heart required, distressed herself with doubts

what could be the cause of his absence. Of all fancies, the most

painful one was that he had gone away to learn to forget her,

knowing her father's and her mother's opposition to their union,

and despairing to contend against them. But oh, how much worse

would be the maiden's woe, if it were known to her what her

betrothed was then enduring!

He was plunged in a dungeon where no ray of daylight ever

penetrated, loaded with chains, and scantily supplied with the

coarsest food. No wonder despair took possession of his heart, and

he longed for death as a relief, when one night (or one day, for

both were equally dark to him) he was roused with the glare of a

torch and saw two men enter his cell. It was the Prince Leo, with

an attendant, who had come as soon as he had learned the wretched

fate of the brave knight whose valor he had seen and admired on

the field of battle. "Cavalier," said he, "I am one whom thy valor

hath so bound to thee, that I willingly peril my own safety to

lend thee aid." "Infinite thanks I owe you," replied Rogero, "and

the life you give me I promise faithfully to render back upon your

call, and promptly to stake it at all times for your service." The

prince then told Rogero his name and rank, at hearing which a tide

of contending emotions almost overwhelmed Rogero. He was set at

liberty, and had his horse and arms restored to him.

Meanwhile, tidings arrived of King Charles' decree that whoever

aspired to the hand of Bradamante must first encounter her with

sword and lance. This news made the Grecian prince turn pale, for

he knew he was no match for her in fight. Communing with himself,

he sees how he may make his wit supply the place of valor, and

employ the French knight, whose name was still unknown to him, to

fight the battle for him. Rogero heard the proposal with extreme

distress; yet it seemed worse than death to deny the first request

of one to whom he owed his life. Hastily he gave his assent "to do

in all things that which Leo should command." Afterward, bitter

repentance came over him; yet, rather than confess his change of

mind, death itself would be welcome. Death seems his only remedy;

but how to die? Sometimes he thinks to make none but a feigned

resistance, and allow her sword a ready access, for never can

death come more happily than if her hand guide the weapon. Yet

this will not avail, for, unless he wins the maid for the Greek

prince, his debt remains unpaid. He had promised to maintain a

real, not a feigned encounter. He will then keep his word, and

banish every thought from his bosom except that which moved him to

maintain his truth.

The young prince, richly attended, set out, and with him Rogero.

They arrived at Paris, but Leo preferred not to enter the city,

and pitched his tents without the walls, making known his arrival

to Charlemagne by an embassy. The monarch was pleased, and

testified his courtesy by visits and gifts. The prince set forth

the purpose of his coming, and prayed the Emperor to dispatch his

suit--"to send forth the damsel who refused ever to take in

wedlock any lord inferior to herself in fight; for she should be

his bride, or he would perish beneath her sword."

Rogero passed the night before the day assigned for the battle

like that which the felon spends, condemned to pay the forfeit of

his life on the ensuing day. He chose to fight with sword only,

and on foot, for he would not let her see Frontino, knowing that

she would recognize the steed. Nor would he use Balisarda, for

against that enchanted blade all armor would be of no avail, and

the sword that he did take he hammered well upon the edge to abate

its sharpness. He wore the surcoat of Prince Leo, and his shield,

emblazoned with a golden, double-headed eagle. The prince took

care to let himself be seen by none.

Bradamante, meanwhile, prepared herself for the combat far

differently. Instead of blunting the edge of her falchion she

whets the steel, and would fain infuse into it her own acerbity.

As the moment approached she seemed to have fire within her veins,

and waited impatiently for the trumpet's sound. At the signal she

drew her sword, and fell with fury upon her Rogero. But as a well-

built wall or aged rock stands unmoved the fury of the storm, so

Rogero, clad in those arms which Trojan Hector once wore,

withstood the strokes which stormed about his head and breast and

flank. Sparks flew from his shield, his helm, his cuirass; from

direct and back strokes, aimed now high, now low, falling thick

and fast, like hailstones on a cottage roof; but Rogero, with

skilful ward, turns them aside, or receives them where his armor

is a sure protection, careful only to protect himself, and with no

thought of striking in return. Thus the hours passed away, and, as

the sun approached the west, the damsel began to despair. But so

much the more her anger increases, and she redoubles her efforts,

like the craftsman who sees his work unfinished while the day is

wellnigh spent. O miserable damsel! didst thou know whom thou

wouldst kill,--if, in that cavalier matched against thee thou

didst but know Rogero, on whom thy very life-threads hang, rather

than kill him thou wouldst kill thyself, for he is dearer to thee

than life.

King Charles and the peers, who thought the cavalier to be the

Grecian prince, viewing such force and skill exhibited, and how

without assaulting her the knight defended himself, were filled

with admiration, and declared the champions well matched, and

worthy of each other.

When the sun was set Charlemagne gave the signal for terminating

the contest, and Bradamante was awarded to Prince Leo as a bride.

Rogero, in deep distress, returned to his tent. There Leo unlaced

his helmet, and kissed him on both cheeks. "Henceforth," said he,

"do with me as you please, for you cannot exhaust my gratitude."

Rogero replied little, laid aside the ensigns he had worn, and

resumed the unicorn, then hasted to withdraw himself from all

eyes. When it was midnight he rose, saddled Frontino, and sallied

from his tent, taking that direction which pleased his steed. All

night he rode absorbed in bitter woe, and called on Death as alone

capable of relieving his sufferings. At last he entered a forest,

and penetrated into its deepest recesses. There he unharnessed

Frontino, and suffered him to wander where he would. Then he threw

himself down on the ground, and poured forth such bitter wailings

that the birds and beasts, for none else heard him, were moved to

pity with his cries.

Not less was the distress of the lady Bradamante, who, rather than

wed any one but Rogero, resolved to break her word, and defy

kindred, court, and Charlemagne himself; and, if nothing else

would do, to die. But relief came from an unexpected quarter.

Marphisa, sister of Rogero, was a heroine of warlike prowess equal

to Bradamante. She had been the confidante of their loves, and

felt hardly less distress than themselves at seeing the perils

which threatened their union. "They are already united by mutual

vows," she said, "and in the sight of Heaven what more is

necessary?" Full of this thought she presented herself before

Charlemagne, and declared that she herself was witness that the

maiden had spoken to Rogero those words which they who marry

swear; and that the compact was so sealed between the pair that

they were no longer free, nor could forsake the one the other to

take another spouse. This her assertion she offered to prove, in

single combat, against Prince Leo, or any one else.

Charlemagne, sadly perplexed at this, commanded Bradamante to be

called, and told her what the bold Marphisa had declared.

Bradamante neither denied nor confirmed the statement, but hung

her head, and kept silence. Duke Aymon was enraged, and would fain

have set aside the pretended contract on the ground that, if made

at all, it must have been made before Rogero was baptized, and

therefore void. But not so thought Rinaldo, nor the good Orlando,

and Charlemagne knew not which way to decide, when Marphisa spoke

thus:

"Since no one else can marry the maiden while my brother lives,

let the prince meet Rogero in mortal combat, and let him who

survives take her for his bride."

This saying pleased the Emperor, and was accepted by the prince,

for he thought that, by the aid of his unknown champion, he should

surely triumph in the fight. Proclamation was therefore made for

Rogero to appear and defend his suit; and Leo, on his part, caused

search to be made on all sides for the knight of the Unicorn.

Meanwhile Rogero, overwhelmed with despair, lay stretched on the

ground in the forest night and day without food, courting death.

Here he was discovered by one of Leo's people, who, finding him

resist all attempts to remove him, hastened to his master, who was

not far off, and brought him to the spot. As he approached he

heard words which convinced him that love was the cause of the

knight's despair; but no clew was given to guide him to the object

of that love. Stooping down, the prince embraced the weeping

warrior, and, in the tenderest accents, said: "Spare not, I

entreat you, to disclose the cause of your distress, for few such

desperate evils betide mankind as are wholly past cure. It grieves

me much that you would hide your grief from me, for I am bound to

you by ties that nothing can undo. Tell me, then, your grief, and

leave me to try if wealth, art, cunning, force, or persuasion

cannot relieve you. If not, it will be time enough after all has

been tried in vain to die."

He spoke in such moving accents that Rogero could not choose but

yield. It was some time before he could command utterance; at last

he said, "My lord, when you shall know me for what I am, I doubt

not you, like myself, will be content that I should die. Know,

then, I am that Rogero whom you have so much cause to hate, and

who so hated you that, intent on putting you to death, he went to

seek you at your father's court. This I did because I could not

submit to see my promised bride borne off by you. But, as man

proposes and God disposes, your great courtesy, well tried in time

of sore need, so moved my fixed resolve, that I not only laid

aside the hate I bore, but purposed to be your friend forever. You

then asked of me to win for you the lady Bradamante, which was all

one as to demand of me my heart and soul. You know whether I

served you faithfully or not. Yours is the lady; possess her in

peace; but ask me not to live to see it. Be content rather that I

die; for vows have passed between myself and her which forbid that

while I live she can lawfully wive with another."

So filled was gentle Leo with astonishment at these words that for

a while he stood silent, with lips unmoved and steadfast gaze,

like a statue. And the discovery that the stranger was Rogero not

only abated not the good will he bore him, but increased it, so

that his distress for what Rogero suffered seemed equal to his

own. For this, and because he would appear deservedly an Emperor's

son, and, though in other things outdone, would not be surpassed

in courtesy, he says: "Rogero, had I known that day when your

matchless valor routed my troops that you were Rogero, your virtue

would have made me your own, as then it made me while I knew not

my foe, and I should have no less gladly rescued you from

Theodora's dungeon. And if I would willingly have done so then,

how much more gladly will I now restore the gift of which you

would rob yourself to confer it upon me. The damsel is more due to

you than to me, and though I know her worth, I would forego not

only her, but life itself, rather than distress a knight like

you."

This and much more he said to the same intent; till at last Rogero

replied, "I yield, and am content to live, and thus a second time

owe my life to you."

But several days elapsed before Rogero was so far restored as to

return to the royal residence, where an embassy had arrived from

the Bulgarian princes to seek the knight of the unicorn, and

tender to him the crown of that country, in place of their king,

fallen in battle.

Thus were things situated when Prince Leo, leading by the hand

Rogero, clad in the battered armor in which he had sustained the

conflict with Bradamante, presented himself before the king.

"Behold," he said "the champion who maintained from dawn to

setting sun the arduous contest; he comes to claim the guerdon of

the fight." King Charlemagne, with all his peerage, stood amazed;

for all believed that the Grecian prince himself had fought with

Bradamante. Then stepped forth Marphisa, and said, "Since Rogero

is not here to assert his rights, I, his sister, undertake his

cause, and will maintain it against whoever shall dare dispute his

claim." She said this with so much anger and disdain that the

prince deemed it no longer wise to feign, and withdrew Rogero's

helmet from his brow, saying, "Behold him here!" Who can describe

the astonishment and joy of Marphisa! She ran and threw her arms

about her brother's neck, nor would give way to let Charlemagne

and Rinaldo, Orlando, Dudon, and the rest, who crowded round,

embrace him, and press friendly kisses on his brow. The joyful

tidings flew fast by many a messenger to Bradamante, who in her

secret chamber lay lamenting. The blood that stagnated about her

heart flowed at that notice so fast, that she had wellnigh died

for joy. Duke Aymon and the Lady Beatrice no longer withheld their

consent, and pledged their daughter to the brave Rogero before all

that gallant company.

Now came the Bulgarian ambassadors, and, kneeling at the feet of

Rogero, besought him to return with them to their country, where,

in Adrianople, the crown and sceptre were awaiting his acceptance.

Prince Leo united his persuasions to theirs, and promised, in his

royal father's name, that peace should be restored on their part.

Rogero gave his consent, and it was surmised that none of the

virtues which shone so conspicuously in him so availed to

recommend Rogero to the Lady Beatrice as the hearing her future

son-in-law saluted as a sovereign prince.

THE BATTLE OF RONCESVALLES

After the expulsion of the Saracens from France Charlemagne led

his army into Spain, to punish Marsilius, the king of that

country, for having sided with the African Saracens in the late

war. Charlemagne succeeded in all his attempts, and compelled

Marsilius to submit, and pay tribute to France. Our readers will

remember Gano, otherwise called Gan, or Ganelon, whom we mentioned

in one of our early chapters as an old courtier of Charlemagne,

and a deadly enemy of Orlando, Rinaldo, and all their friends. He

had great influence over Charles, from equality of age and long

intimacy; and he was not without good qualities: he was brave and

sagacious, but envious, false, and treacherous. Gan prevailed on

Charles to send him as ambassador to Marsilius, to arrange the

tribute. He embraced Orlando over and over again at taking leave,

using such pains to seem loving and sincere, that his hypocrisy

was manifest to every one but the old monarch. He fastened with

equal tenderness on Oliver, who smiled contemptuously in his face,

and thought to himself, "You may make as many fair speeches as you

choose, but you lie." All the other paladins who were present

thought the same, and they said as much to the Emperor, adding

that Gan should on no account be sent ambassador to the Spaniards.

But Charles was infatuated.

Gan was received with great honor by Marsilius. The king, attended

by his lords, came fifteen miles out of Saragossa to meet him, and

then conducted him into the city with acclamations. There was

nothing for several days but balls, games, and exhibitions of

chivalry, the ladies throwing flowers on the heads of the French

knights, and the people shouting, "France! Mountjoy and St.

Denis!"

After the ceremonies of the first reception the king and the

ambassador began to understand one another. One day they sat

together in a garden on the border of a fountain. The water was so

clear and smooth it reflected every object around, and the spot

was encircled with fruit-trees which quivered with the fresh air.

As they sat and talked, as if without restraint, Gan, without

looking the king in the face, was enabled to see the expression of

his countenance in the water, and governed his speech accordingly.

Marsilius was equally adroit, and watched the face of Gan while he

addressed him. Marsilius began by lamenting, not as to the

ambassador, but as to the friend, the injuries which Charles had

done him by invading his dominions, charging him with wishing to

take his kingdom from him and give it to Orlando; till at length

he plainly uttered his belief that if that ambitious paladin were

but dead good men would get their rights.

Gan heaved a sigh, as if he was unwillingly compelled to allow the

force of what the king said; but unable to contain himself long he

lifted up his face, radiant with triumphant wickedness, and

exclaimed: "Every word you utter is truth; die he must, and die

also must Oliver, who struck me that foul blow at court. Is it

treachery to punish affronts like these? I have planned

everything,--I have settled everything already with their

besotted master. Orlando will come to your borders--to

Roncesvalles--for the purpose of receiving the tribute. Charles

will await him at the foot of the mountains. Orlando will bring

but a small band with him: you, when you meet him, will have

secretly your whole army at your back. You surround him, and who

receives tribute then?"

The new Judas had scarcely uttered these words when his exultation

was interrupted by a change in the face of nature. The sky was

suddenly overcast, there was thunder and lightning, a laurel was

split in two from head to foot, and the Carob-tree under which Gan

was sitting, which is said to be the species of tree on which

Judas Iscariot hung himself, dropped one of its pods on his head.

Marsilius, as well as Gan, was appalled at this omen; but on

assembling his soothsayers they came to the conclusion that the

laurel-tree turned the omen against the Emperor, the successor of

the Caesars, though one of them renewed the consternation of Gan

by saying that he did not understand the meaning of the tree of

Judas, and intimating that perhaps the ambassador could explain

it. Gan relieved his vexation by anger; the habit of wickedness

prevailed over all other considerations; and the king prepared to

march to Roncesvalles at the head of all his forces.

Gan wrote to Charlemagne to say how humbly and submissively

Marsilius was coming to pay the tribute into the hands of Orlando,

and how handsome it would be of the Emperor to meet him half-way,

and so be ready to receive him after the payment at his camp. He

added a brilliant account of the tribute, and the accompanying

presents. The good Emperor wrote in turn to say how pleased he was

with the ambassador's diligence, and that matters were arranged

precisely as he wished. His court, however, had its suspicion

still, though they little thought Gan's object in bringing Charles

into the neighborhood of Roncesvalles was to deliver him into the

hands of Marsilius, after Orlando should have been destroyed by

him.

Orlando, however, did as his lord and sovereign desired. He went

to Roncesvalles, accompanied by a moderate train of warriors, not

dreaming of the atrocity that awaited him. Gan, meanwhile, had

hastened back to France, in order to show himself free and easy in

the presence of Charles, and secure the success of his plot; while

Marsilius, to make assurance doubly sure, brought into the passes

of Roncesvalles no less than three armies, which were successively

to fall on the paladin in case of the worst, and so extinguish him

with numbers. He had also, by Gan's advice, brought heaps of wine

and good cheer to be set before his victims in the first instance;

"for that," said the traitor, "will render the onset the more

effective, the feasters being unarmed. One thing, however, I must

not forget," added he; "my son Baldwin is sure to be with Orlando;

you must take care of his life for my sake."

"I give him this vesture off my own body," said the king; "let him

wear it in the battle, and have no fear. My soldiers shall be

directed not to touch him."

Gan went away rejoicing to France. He embraced the sovereign and

the court all round with the air of a man who had brought them

nothing but blessings, and the old king wept for very tenderness

and delight.

"Something is going on wrong, and looks very black," thought

Malagigi, the good wizard; "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."

Malagigi called up by his art a wise, terrible, and cruel spirit,

named Ashtaroth. "Tell me, and tell me truly, of Rinaldo," said

Malagigi to the spirit. The demon looked hard at the paladin, and

said nothing. His aspect was clouded and violent.

The enchanter, with an aspect still cloudier, bade Ashtaroth lay

down that look, and made signs as if he would resort to angrier

compulsion; and the devil, alarmed, 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."

"He has been conquering and baptizing 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?"

"I know not," said the devil. "I was not attending to Gan at the

time, and we fallen spirits know not the future. 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, "bring Rinaldo

and Ricciardetto into the pass of Ronces-Valles. Do it, and I

hereby undertake to summon thee no 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.

There was an earthquake, and Ashtaroth disappeared.

Marsilius 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, returned, and put himself at the head of

the second army, which was the post assigned him by his liege-

lord. King Falseron, whose son Orlando had slain in battle, headed

the first army, and King Balugante the third. Marsilius made a

speech to them, in which he let them into his design, and

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 amongst the Christian they were to spare.

This son of Gan, meanwhile, and several of the paladins, who

distrusted the misbelievers, and were anxious at all events to be

with Orlando, had joined the hero in the fatal valley; so that the

little Christian host, considering the tremendous valor of their

lord and his friends, were not to be sold for nothing. Rinaldo,

alas! the second thunderbolt of Christendom, was destined not to

be there in time to meet the issue. The paladins 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 harbor suspicion as long as he could help it. He

refused to summon aid which might be superfluous; neither would he

do anything but what his liege-lord had directed. 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.

Perhaps by a certain foresight he felt his death approaching; 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 Marsilius was to arrive early next day with the tribute, and

Oliver, with the morning sun, rode forth to reconnoitre, and see

if he could discover the peaceful pomp of the Spanish court in the

distance. He rode up the nearest height, and from the top of it

beheld the first army of Marsilius already forming in the passes.

"O devil Gan," he exclaimed, "this then is the consummation of thy

labors!" Oliver 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 is 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 miserable valley! the blood shed in

thee this day will color thy name forever."

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, while good

Archbishop Turpin went from rank to rank exhorting and encouraging

the warriors of Christ. 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. Then he said: "If it had entered

into 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 did not

suppose him to be one. Let us die, if die we must, like honest and

gallant men, so that it shall be said of us it was only our bodies

that died. 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 hardly save us, even if he heard it." And with

these words Orlando sprang to his horse, crying, "Aways 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!"

And now with a mighty dust, and an infinite sound of horns and

tambours, 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: "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 not 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.

So the captains of the little troop and of the great army sat

looking at one another, and singling one another out as the latter

came on, and then the knights put spear in rest, and ran for a

while two and two in succession, one against the other.

Astolpho was the first to move. He ran against Arlotto of Sorio,

and thrust his antagonist's body out of the saddle, and his soul

into the other world. Oliver encountered Malprimo, and, though he

received a thrust which hurt him, sent his lance right through the

heart of Malprimo.

Falseron was daunted at this blow. "Truly," thought he, "this is a

marvel." Oliver did not press on among the Saracens, his wound was

too painful; but Orlando now put himself and his whole band in

motion, and you may guess what an uproar ensued. The sound of the

rattling of 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 purposed to have him all to

himself. On the contrary, he recommended himself to his gods, and

turned away, meaning to wait for a more auspicious season of

revenge. But Orlando hailed him with a terrible voice, saying, "O

thou traitor! was this the end to which old quarrels were made

up?" Then he dashed at Falseron with a fury so swift, and at the

same time with a mastery of his lance so marvellous, that, though

he plunged it in the man's body so as instantly to kill him, and

then withdrew it, 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, touched the carcass with

his sword, and it fell on the instant!

When the infidels 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, and wherever he went

thunderbolts fell upon helmets. Oliver was again in the fray, with

Walter and Baldwin, Avino and Avolio, while Arch-bishop Turpin

had changed his crosier for a lance, and chased a new flock before

him to the mountains.

Yet what could be done against foes without number? Marsilius

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 had presented himself to Rinaldo in Egypt,

and, after telling his errand, 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 and across the desert,

and reached Spain and the scene of action just as Marsilius

brought up his third army. The two paladins on their horses

dropped right into the midst of the Saracens, and began making

such havoc among them that Marsilius, who overlooked the fight

from a mountain, thought his soldiers had turned against one

another. Orlando beheld it, and guessed it could be no other but

his cousins, and pressed to meet them. Oliver coming up at the

same moment, the rapture of the whole party is not to be

expressed. After a few hasty words of explanation they were forced

to turn again upon the enemy, whose numbers seemed perfectly

without limit.

Orlando, making a bloody passage towards Marsilius, struck a youth

on the head, whose helmet was so strong as to resist the blow, but

at the same time flew off, Orlando prepared to strike a second

blow, when the youth exclaimed, "Hold! you loved my father; I am

Bujaforte!" The paladin had never seen Bujaforte, but he saw the

likeness to the good old man, his father, and he dropped his

sword. "O Bujaforte," said he, "I loved him indeed; but what does

his son do here fighting against his friends?"

Bujaforte could not at once speak for weeping. At length he said:

"I am forced to be here by my lord and master, Marsilius; and I

have made a show 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 everybody may know the son of

his friend Gan, and do him no harm."

"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."

The hero then turned in fury to look for Baldwin, who was

hastening towards him at that moment, with friendliness in his

looks.

"'Tis strange," said Baldwin, "I have done my duty as well as I

could, yet nobody will come against me. I have slain right and

left, and cannot comprehend what it is that makes the stoutest

infidels avoid me."

"Take off your vest," said Orlando, contemptuously, "and you will

soon discover the secret, if you wish to know it. Your father has

sold us to Marsilius, all but his honorable son."

"If my father," said Baldwin, impetuously tearing off the vest,

"has been such a villain, and I escape dying, I will plunge this

sword through his heart. But I am no traitor, Orlando, and you do

me wrong to say it. Think not I can live with dishonor."

Baldwin spurred off into the fight, not waiting to hear another

word from Orlando, who was very sorry for what he had said, for he

perceived that the youth was in despair.

And now the fight raged beyond all it had done before; twenty

pagans went down for one paladin, but still the paladins fell.

Sansonetto was beaten to earth by the club of Grandonio, Walter

d'Amulion had his shoulder broken, Berlinghieri and Ottone were

slain, and at last Astolpho fell, in revenge of whose death

Orlando turned the spot where he died into a lake of Saracen

blood. The luckless Bujaforte met Rinaldo, and before he could

explain how he seemed to be fighting on the Saracen side received

such a blow upon the head that he fell, unable to utter a word.

Orlando, cutting his way to a spot where there was a great

struggle and uproar, found the poor youth Baldwin, the son of Gan,

with two spears in his breast. "I am no traitor now," said

Baldwin, and those were the last words he said. Orlando was

bitterly sorry to have been the cause of his death, and tears

streamed from his eyes. At length down went Oliver himself. He had

become blinded with his own blood, and smitten Orlando without

knowing him. "How now, cousin," cried Orlando, "have you too gone

over to the enemy?" "O my lord and master," cried the other, "I

ask your pardon. I can see nothing; I am dying. Some traitor has

stabbed me in the back. If you love me, lead my horse into the

thick of them, so that I may not die unavenged."

"I shall die myself before long," said Orlando, "out of very toil

and grief; so we will go together."

Orlando led his cousin's horse where the press was thickest, and

dreadful was the strength of the dying man and his tired

companion. They made a street through which they passed out of the

battle, and Orlando led his cousin away to his tent, and said,

"Wait a little till I return, for I will go and sound the horn on

the hill yonder."

"'Tis of no use," said Oliver, "my spirit is fast going and

desires to be with its Lord and Saviour."

He would have said more, but his words came from him imperfectly,

like those of a man in a dream, and so he expired.

When Orlando saw him dead he felt as if he was alone on the earth,

and he was quite willing to leave it, only he wished that King

Charles, at the foot of the mountains, should know how the case

stood before he went. So he took up the horn and blew it three

times, with such force that the blood burst out of his nose and

mouth. Turpin says that at the third blast the horn broke in two.

In spite of all the noise of the battle, the sound of the horn

broke over it like a voice out of the other world. They say that

birds fell dead at it, and that the whole Saracen army drew back

in terror. Charlemagne was sitting in the midst of his court when

the sound reached him, and Gan was there. The Emperor was the

first to hear it.

"Do you hear that?" said he to his nobles. "Did you hear the horn

as I heard it?"

Upon this they all listened, and Gan felt his heart misgive him.

The horn sounded a second time.

"What is the meaning of this?" said Charles.

"Orlando is hunting," observed Gan, "and the stag is killed."

But when the horn sounded yet a third time, and the blast was one

of so dreadful a vehemence, everybody looked at the other, and

then they all looked at Gan in a fury. Charles rose from his seat.

"This is no hunting of the stag," said he. "The sound goes to my

very heart. O Gan! O Gan! Not for thee do I blush, but for myself.

O foul and monstrous villain! Take him, gentleman, and keep him in

close prison. Would to God I had not lived to see this day!"

But it was no time for words. They put the traitor in prison and

then Charles, with all his court, took his way to Roncesvalles,

grieving and praying.

It was afternoon when the horn sounded, and half an hour after it

when the Emperor set out; and meantime Orlando had returned to the

fight that he might do his duty, however hopeless, as long as he

could sit his horse. At length he found his end approaching, for

toil and fever, and rode all alone to a fountain where he had

before quenched his thirst. His horse was wearier than he, and no

sooner had his master alighted than the beast, kneeling down as if

to take leave, and to say, "I have brought you to a place of

rest," fell dead at his feet. Orlando cast water on him from the

fountain, not wishing to believe him dead; but when he found it to

no purpose, he grieved for him as if he had been a human being,

and addressed him by name with tears, and asked forgiveness if he

had ever done him wrong. They say that the horse, at these words,

opened his eyes a little, and looked kindly at his master, and

then stirred never more. They say also that Orlando then summoning

all his strength, smote a rock near him with his beautiful sword

Durindana, thinking to shiver the steel in pieces, and so prevent

its falling into the hands of the enemy, but though the rock split

like a slate, and a great cleft remained ever after to astonish

the eyes of pilgrims, the sword remained uninjured.

And now Rinaldo and Ricciardetto came up, with Turpin, having

driven back the Saracens, and told Orlando that the battle was

won. Then Orlando knelt before Turpin and begged remission of his

sins, and Turpin gave him absolution. Orlando fixed his eyes on

the hilt of his sword as on a crucifix, and embraced it, and he

raised his eyes and appeared like a creature seraphical and

transfigured, and bowing his head, he breathed out his pure soul.

And now King Charles and his nobles came up. The Emperor, at sight

of the dead Orlando, threw himself, as if he had been a reckless

youth, from his horse, and embraced and kissed the body, and said:

"I bless thee, Orlando; I bless thy whole life, and all that thou

wast, and all that thou ever didst, and the father that begat

thee; and I ask pardon of thee for believing those who brought

thee to thine end. They shall have their reward, O thou beloved

one! But indeed it is thou that livest, and I who am worse than

dead."

Horrible to the Emperor's eyes was the sight of the field of

Roncesvalles. The Saracens indeed had fled, conquered; but all his

paladins but two were left on it dead, and the whole valley looked

like a great slaughter-house, trampled into blood and dirt, and

reeking to the heat. Charles trembled to his heart's core for

wonder and agony. After gazing dumbly on the place he cursed it

with a solemn curse, and wished that never grass might grow in it

again, nor seed of any kind, neither within it nor on any of its

mountains around, but the anger of Heaven abide over it forever.

Charles and his warriors went after the Saracens into Spain. They

took and fired Saragossa, and Marsilius was hung to the carob-tree

under which he had planned his villainy with Gan; and Gan was hung

and drawn and quartered in Roncesvalles, amidst the execrations of

the country.

RINALDO AND BAYARD

CHARLEMAGNE was overwhelmed with grief at the loss of so many of

his bravest warriors at the disaster of Roncesvalles, and bitterly

reproached himself for his credulity in resigning himself so

completely to the counsels of the treacherous Count Gan. Yet he

soon fell into a similar snare when he suffered his unworthy son,

Charlot, to acquire such an influence over him, that he constantly

led him into acts of cruelty and injustice that in his right mind

he would have scorned to commit. Rinaldo and his brothers, for

some slight offence to the imperious young prince, were forced to

fly from Paris, and to take shelter in their castle of Montalban;

for Charles had publicly said, if he could take them he would hang

them all. He sent numbers of his bravest knights to arrest them,

but all without success. Either Rinaldo foiled their efforts and

sent them back, stripped of their armor and of their glory, or,

after meeting and conferring with him, they came back and told the

king they could not be his instruments for such a work.

At last Charles himself raised a great army, and went in person to

compel the paladin to submit. He ravaged all the country round

about Montalban, so that supplies of food should be cut off, and

he threatened death to any who should attempt to issue forth,

hoping to compel the garrison to submit for want of food.

Rinaldo's resources had been brought so low that it seemed useless

to contend any longer. His brothers had been taken prisoners in a

skirmish, and his only hope of saving their lives was in making

terms with the king.

So he sent a messenger, offering to yield himself and his castle

if the king would spare his and his brothers' lives. While the

messenger was gone Rinaldo, impatient to learn what tidings he

might bring, rode out to meet him. When he had ridden as far as he

thought prudent he stopped in a wood, and alighting, tied Bayard

to a tree. Then he sat down, and, as he waited, he fell asleep.

Bayard meanwhile got loose, and strayed away where the grass

tempted him. Just then came along some country people, who said to

one another, "Look, is not that the great horse Bayard that

Rinaldo rides? Let us take him, and carry him to King Charles, who

will pay us well for our trouble." They did so, and the king was

delighted with his prize, and gave them a present that made them

rich to their dying day.

When Rinaldo woke he looked round for his horse, and, finding him

not, he groaned, and said, "O unlucky hour that I was born! how

fortune persecutes me!" So desperate was he that he took off his

armor and his spurs, saying, "What need have I of these, since

Bayard is lost?" While he stood thus lamenting, a man came from

the thicket, seemingly bent with age. He had a long beard hanging

over his breast, and eyebrows that almost covered his eyes. He

bade Rinaldo good day. Rinaldo thanked him, and said, "A good day

I have hardly had since I was born." Then said the old man,

"Signor Rinaldo, you must not despair, for God will make all

things turn to the best." Rinaldo answered, "My trouble is too

heavy for me to hope relief. The king has taken my brothers, and

means to put them to death. I thought to rescue them by means of

my horse Bayard, but while I slept some thief has stolen him." The

old man replied, "I will remember you and your brothers in my

prayers. I am a poor man, have you not something to give me?"

Rinaldo said, "I have nothing to give," but then he recollected

his spurs. He gave them to the beggar, and said, "Here, take my

spurs. They are the first present my mother gave me when my

father, Count Aymon, dubbed me knight. They ought to bring you ten

pounds."

The old man took the spurs, and put them into his sack, and said,

"Noble sir, have you nothing else you can give me?" Rinaldo

replied, "Are you making sport of me? I tell you truly if it were

not for shame to beat one so helpless, I would teach you better

manners." The old man said, "Of a truth, sir, if you did so you

would do a great sin. If all had beaten me of whom I have begged I

should have been killed long ago, for I ask alms in churches and

convents, and wherever I can." "You say true," replied Rinaldo,

"if you did not ask, none would relieve you." The old man said,

"True, noble sir, therefore I pray if you have anything more to

spare, give it me." Rinaldo gave him his mantle, and said, "Take

it, pilgrim. I give it you for the love of Christ, that God would

save my brothers from a shameful death, and help me to escape out

of King Charles's power."

The pilgrim took the mantle, folded it up, and put it into his

bag. Then a third time he said to Rinaldo, "Sir, have you nothing

left to give me that I may remember you in my prayers?" "Wretch!"

exclaimed Rinaldo, "do you make me your sport?" and he drew his

sword, and struck at him; but the old man warded off the blow with

his staff, and said, "Rinaldo, would you slay your cousin,

Malagigi?" When Rinaldo heard that he stayed his hand, and gazed

doubtingly on the old man, who now threw aside his disguise, and

appeared to be indeed Malagigi. "Dear cousin," said Rinaldo, "pray

forgive me. I did not know you. Next to God, my trust is in you.

Help my brothers to escape out of prison, I entreat you. I have

lost my horse, and therefore cannot render them any assistance."

Malagigi answered, "Cousin Rinaldo, I will enable you to recover

your horse. Meanwhile, you must do as I say."

Then Malagigi took from his sack a gown, and gave it to Rinaldo to

put on over his armor, and a hat that was full of holes, and an

old pair of shoes to put on. They looked like two pilgrims, very

old and poor. Then they went forth from the wood, and after a

little while saw four monks riding along the road. Malagigi said

to Rinaldo, "I will go meet the monks, and see what news I can

learn."

Malagigi learned from the monks that on the approaching festival

there would be a great crowd of people at court, for the prince

was going to show the ladies the famous horse Bayard that used to

belong to Rinaldo. "What!" said the pilgrim; "is Bayard there?"

"Yes," answered the monks; "the king has given him to Charlot,

and, after the prince has ridden him the king means to pass

sentence on the brothers of Rinaldo, and have them hanged." Then

Malagigi asked alms of the monks, but they would give him none,

till he threw aside his pilgrim garb, and let them see his armor,

when, partly for charity and partly for terror, they gave him a

golden cup, adorned with precious stones that sparkled in the

sunshine.

Malagigi then hastened back to Rinaldo, and told him what he had

learned.

The morning of the feast-day Rinaldo and Malagigi came to the

place where the sports were to be held. Malagigi gave Rinaldo his

spurs back again, and said, "Cousin, put on your spurs, for you

will need them." "How shall I need them," said Rinaldo, "since I

have lost my horse?" Yet he did as Malagigi directed him.

When the two had taken their stand on the border of the field

among the crowd the princes and ladies of the court began to

assemble. When they were all assembled the king came also, and

Charlot with him, near whom the horse Bayard was led, in the

charge of grooms, who were expressly enjoined to guard him safely.

The king, looking round on the circle of spectators, saw Malagigi

and Rinaldo, and observed the splendid cup that they had, and said

to Charlot, "See, my son, what a brilliant cup those two pilgrims

have got. It seems to be worth a hundred ducats." "That is true,"

said Charlot; "Let us go and ask where they got it." So they rode

to the place where the pilgrims stood, and Charlot stopped Bayard

close to them.

The horse snuffed at the pilgrims, knew Rinaldo, and caressed his

master. The king said to Malagigi, "Friend, where did you get that

beautiful cup?" Malagigi replied, "Honorable sir, I paid for it

all the money I have saved from eleven years' begging in churches

and convents. The Pope himself has blessed it, and given it the

power that whosoever eats or drinks out of it shall be pardoned of

all his sins." Then said the king to Charlot, "My son, these are

right holy men; see how the dumb beast worships them."

Then the king said to Malagigi, "Give me a morsel from your cup,

that I may be cleared of my sins." Malagigi answered, "Illustrious

lord, I dare not do it, unless you will forgive all who have at

any time offended you. You know that Christ forgave all those who

had betrayed and crucified him." The king replied, "Friend, that

is true; but Rinaldo has so grievously offended me, that I cannot

forgive him, nor that other man, Malagigi, the magician. These two

shall never live in my kingdom again. If I catch them I will

certainly have them hanged. But tell me, pilgrim, who is that man

who stands beside you?" "He is deaf, dumb, and blind," said

Malagigi. Then the king said again, "Give me to drink of your cup,

to take away my sins." Malagigi answered, "My lord king, here is

my poor brother, who for fifty days has not heard, spoken, nor

seen. This misfortune befell him in a house where we found

shelter, and the day before yesterday we met with a wise woman,

who told him the only hope of a cure for him was to come to some

place where Bayard was to be ridden, and to mount and ride him;

that would do him more good than anything else." Then said the

king, "Friend, you have come to the right place, for Bayard is to

be ridden here to-day. Give me a draught from your cup, and your

companion shall ride upon Bayard." Malagigi, hearing these words,

said, "Be it so." Then the king, with great devotion, took a

spoon, and dipped a portion from the pilgrim's cup, believing that

his sins should be thereby forgiven.

When this was done, the king said to Charlot, "Son, I request that

you will let this sick pilgrim sit on your horse, and ride if he

can, for by so doing he will be healed of all his infirmities."

Charlot replied, "That will I gladly do." So saying, he

dismounted, and the servants took the pilgrim in their arms, and

helped him on the horse.

Wher Rinaldo was mounted, he put his feet in the stirrups, and

said, "I would like to ride a little." Malagigi, hearing him

speak, seemed delighted, and asked him whether he could see and

hear also. "Yes," said Rinaldo, "I am healed of all my

infirmities." When the king heard it he said to Bishop Turpin, "My

lord bishop, we must celebrate this with a procession, with

crosses and banners, for it is a great miracle."

When Rinaldo remarked that he was not carefully watched, he spoke

to the horse, and touched him with the spurs. Bayard knew that his

master was upon him, and he started off upon a rapid pace, and in

a few moments was a good way off. Malagigi pretended to be in

great alarm. "O noble king and master," he cried, "my poor

companion is run away with; he will fall and break his neck." The

king ordered his knights to ride after the pilgrim, and bring him

back, or help him if need were. They did so, but it was in vain.

Rinaldo left them all behind him, and kept on his way till he

reached Montalban. Malagigi was suffered to depart, unsuspected,

and he went his way, making sad lamentation for the fate of his

comrade, who he pretended to think must surely be dashed to

pieces.

Malagigi did not go far, but having changed his disguise, returned

to where the king was, and employed his best art in getting the

brothers of Rinaldo out of prison. He succeeded; and all three got

safely to Montalban, where Rinaldo's joy at the rescue of his

brothers and the recovery of Bayard was more than tongue can tell.

DEATH OF RINALDO

THE distress in Rinaldo's castle for want of food grew more severe

every day, under the pressure of the siege. The garrison were

forced to kill their horses, both to save the provision they would

consume, and to make food of their flesh. At last all the horses

were killed except Bayard, and Rinaldo said to his brothers,

"Bayard must die, for we have nothing else to eat." So they went

to the stable and brought out Bayard to kill him. But Alardo said,

"Brother, let Bayard live a little longer; who knows what God may

do for us?"

Bayard heard these words, and understood them as if he was a man,

and fell on his knees, as if he would beg for mercy. When Rinaldo

saw the distress of his horse his heart failed him, and he let him

live.

Just at this time Aya, Rinaldo's mother, who was the sister of the

Emperor, came to the camp, attended by knights and ladies, to

intercede for her sons. She fell on her knees before the king, and

besought him that he would pardon Rinaldo and his brothers: and

all the peers and knights took her side, and entreated the king to

grant her prayer. Then said the king, "Dear sister, you act the

part of a good mother, and I respect your tender heart, and yield

to your entreaties. I will spare your sons their lives if they

submit implicitly to my will."

When Charlot heard this he approached the king and whispered in

his ear. And the king turned to his sister and said, "Charlot must

have Bayard, because I have given the horse to him. Now go, my

sister, and tell Rinaldo what I have said."

When the Lady Aya heard these words she was delighted, thanked God

in her heart, and said, "Worthy king and brother, I will do as you

bid me." So she went into the castle, where her sons received her

most joyfully and affectionately, and she told them the king's

offer. Then Alardo said, "Brother, I would rather have the king's

enmity than give Bayard to Charlot, for I believe he will kill

him." Likewise said all the brothers. When Rinaldo heard them he

said, "Dear brothers, if we may win our forgiveness by giving up

the horse, so be it. Let us make our peace, for we cannot stand

against the king's power." Then he went to his mother, and told

her they would give the horse to Charlot, and more, too, if the

king would pardon them, and forgive all that they had done against

his crown and dignity. The lady returned to Charles and told him

the answer of her sons.

When the peace was thus made between the king and the sons of

Aymon, the brothers came forth from the castle, bringing Bayard

with them, and, falling at the king's feet, begged his

forgiveness. The king bade them rise, and received them into favor

in the sight of all his noble knights and counsellors, to the

great joy of all, especially of the Lady Aya, their mother. Then

Rinaldo took the horse Bayard, gave him to Charlot, and said, "My

lord and prince, this horse I give to you; do with him as to you

seems good." Charlot took him, as had been agreed on. Then he made

the servants take him to the bridge, and throw him into the water.

Bayard sank to the bottom, but soon came to the surface again and

swam, saw Rinaldo looking at him, came to land, ran to his old

master, and stood by him as proudly as if he had understanding,

and would say, "Why did you treat me so?" When the prince saw that

he said, "Rinaldo, give me the horse again, for he must die."

Rinaldo replied, "My lord and prince, he is yours without

dispute," and gave him to him. The prince then had a millstone

tied to each foot, and two to his neck, and made them throw him

again into the water. Bayard struggled in the water, looked up to

his master, threw off the stones, and came back to Rinaldo.

When Alardo saw that, he said, "Now must thou be disgraced

forever, brother, if thou give up the horse again." But Rinaldo

answered, "Brother, be still. Shall I for the horse's life provoke

the anger of the king again?" Then Alardo said, "Ah, Bayard! what

a return do we make for all thy true love and service!" Rinaldo

gave the horse to the prince again, and said, "My lord, if the

horse comes out again I cannot return him to you any more, for it

wrings my heart too much." Then Chariot had Bayard loaded with the

stones as before, and thrown into the water; and commanded Rinaldo

that he should not stand where the horse would see him. When

Bayard rose to the surface he stretched his neck out of the water

and looked round for his master, but saw him not. Then he sunk to

the bottom.

Rinaldo was so distressed for the loss of Bayard that he made a

vow to ride no horse again all his life long, nor to bind a sword

to his side, but to become a hermit. He resolved to betake himself

to some wild wood, but first to return to his castle, to see his

children, and to appoint to each his share of his estate.

So he took leave of the king and of his brothers, and returned to

Montalban, and his brothers remained with the king. Rinaldo called

his children to him, and he made his eldest born, Aymeric, a

knight, and made him lord of his castle and of his land. He gave

to the rest what other goods he had, and kissed and embraced them

all, commended them to God, and then departed from them with a

heavy heart.

He had not travelled far when he entered a wood, and there met

with a hermit, who had long been retired from the world. Rinaldo

greeted him, and the hermit replied courteously, and asked him who

he was and what was his purpose. Rinaldo replied, "Sir, I have led

a sinful life; many deeds of violence have I done, and many men

have I slain, not always in a good cause, but often under the

impulse of my own headstrong passions. I have also been the cause

of the death of many of my friends, who took my part, not because

they thought me in the right, but only for love of me. And now I

come to make confession of all my sins, and to do penance for the

rest of my life, if perhaps the mercy of God will forgive me." The

hermit said, "Friend, I perceive you have fallen into great sins,

and have broken the commandments of God, but his mercy is greater

than your sins; and if you repent from your heart, and lead a new

life, there is yet hope for you that he will forgive you what is

past." So Rinaldo was comforted, and said, "Master, I will stay

with you, and what you bid ane I will do." The hermit replied,

"Roots and vegetables will be your food; shirt or shoes you may

not wear; your lot must be poverty and want if you stay with me."

Rinaldo replied, "I will cheerfully bear all this, and more." So

he remained three whole years with the hermit, and after that his

strength failed, and it seemed as if he was like to die.

One night the hermit had a dream, and heard a voice from heaven,

which commanded him to say to his companion that he must without

delay go to the Holy Land, and fight against the heathen. The

hermit, when he heard that voice, was glad, and calling Rinaldo,

he said, "Friend, God's angel has commanded me to say to you that

you must without delay go to Jerusalem, and help our fellow-

Christians in their struggle with the Infidels." Then said

Rinaldo, "Ah! master, how can I do that? It is over three years

since I made a vow no more to ride a horse, nor take a sword or

spear in my hand." The hermit answered, "Dear friend, obey God,

and do what the angel commanded." "I will do so," said Rinaldo,

"and pray for me, my master, that God may guide me right." Then he

departed, and went to the seaside, and took ship and came to

Tripoli in Syria.

And as he went on his way his strength returned to him, till it

was equal to what it was in his best days. And though he never

mounted a horse, nor took a sword in his hand, yet with his

pilgrim's staff he did good service in the armies of the

Christians; and it pleased God that he escaped unhurt, though he

was present in many battles, and his courage inspired the men with

the same. At last a truce was made with the Saracens, and Rinaldo,

now old and infirm, wishing to see his native land again before he

died, took ship and sailed for France. When he arrived he shunned

to go to the resorts of the great, and preferred to live among the

humble folk, where he was unknown. He did country work, and lived

on milk and bread, drank water, and was therewith content. While

he so lived he heard that the city of Cologne was the holiest and

best of cities, on account of the relics and bodies of saints who

had there poured out their blood for the faith. This induced him

to betake himself thither. When the pious hero arrived at Cologne

he went to the monastery of St. Peter, and lived a holy life,

occupied night and day in devotion. It so happened that at that

time in the next town to Cologne there raged a dreadful

pestilence. Many people came to Rinaldo, to beg him to pray for

them, that the plague might be stayed. The holy man prayed

fervently, and besought the Lord to take away the plague from the

people, and his prayer was heard. The stroke of the pestilence was

arrested, and all the people thanked the holy man and praised God.

Now there was at this time at Cologne a bishop, called Agilolphus,

who was a wise and understanding man, who led a pure and secluded

life, and set a good example to others. This bishop undertook to

build the Church of St. Peter, and gave notice to all stonemasons

and other workmen round about to come to Cologne, where they

should find work and wages. Among others came Rinaldo; and he

worked among the laborers and did more than four or five common

workmen. When they went to dinner he brought stone and mortar so

that they had enough for the whole day. When the others went to

bed he stretched himself out on the stones. He ate bread only, and

drank nothing but water; and had for his wages but a penny a day.

The head workman asked him his name, and where he belonged. He

would not tell, but said nothing and pursued his work. They called

him St. Peter's workman, because he was so devoted to his work.

When the overseer saw the diligence of this holy man he chid the

laziness of the other workmen, and said, "You receive more pay

than this good man, but do not do half as much work." For this

reason the other workmen hated Rinaldo, and made a secret

agreement to kill him. They knew that he made it a practice to go

every night to a certain church to pray and give alms. So they

agreed to lay wait for him, with the purpose to kill him. When he

came to the spot, they seized him, and beat him over the head till

he was dead. Then they put his body into a sack, and stones with

it, and cast it into the Rhine, in the hope the sack would sink to

the bottom, and be there concealed. But God willed not that it

should be so, but caused the sack to float on the surface, and be

thrown upon the bank. And the soul of the holy martyr was carried

by angels, with songs of praise, up to the heavens.

Now at that time the people of Dortmund had become converted to

the Christian faith; and they sent to the Bishop of Cologne, and

desired him to give them some of the holy relics that are in such

abundance in that city. So the Bishop called together his clergy

to deliberate what answer they should give to this request. And it

was determined to give to the people of Dortmund the body of the

holy man who had just suffered martyrdom.

When now the body with the coffin was put on the cart, the cart

began to move toward Dortmund without horses or help of men, and

stopped not till it reached the place where the church of St.

Rinaldo now stands. The Bishop and his clergy followed the holy

man to do him honor, with singing of hymns, for a space of three

miles. And St. Rinaldo has ever since been the patron of that

place, and many wonderful works has God done through him, as may

be seen in the legends.

HUON OF BORDEAUX

WHEN Charlemagne grew old he felt the burden of government become

heavier year by year, till at last he called together his high

barons and peers to propose to abdicate the empire and the throne

of France in favor of his sons, Charlot and Lewis.

The Emperor was unreasonably partial to his eldest son; he would

have been glad to have had the barons and peers demand Charlot for

their only sovereign; but that prince was so infamous, for his

falsehood and cruelty, that the council strenuously opposed the

Emperor's proposal of abdicating, and implored him to continue to

hold a sceptre which he wielded with so much glory.

Amaury of Hauteville, cousin of Ganelon, and now head of the

wicked branch of the house of Maganza, was the secret partisan of

Charlot, whom he resembled in his loose morals and bad

dispositions. Amaury nourished the most bitter resentment against

the house of Guienne, of which the former Duke, Sevinus, had often

rebuked his misdeeds. He took advantage of this occasion to do an

injury to the two young children whom the Duke Sevinus had left

under the charge of the Duchess Alice, their mother; and at the

same time, to advance his interest with Charlot by increasing his

wealth and power. With this view he suggested to the prince a new

idea.

He pretended to agree with the opinion of the barons; he said that

it would be best to try Charlot's capacity for government by

giving him some rich provinces before placing him upon the throne;

and that the Emperor, without depriving himself of any part of his

realm, might give Charlot the investiture of Guienne. For although

seven years had passed since the death of Sevinus, the young Duke,

his son, had not yet repaired to the court of Charlemagne to

render the homage due to his lawful sovereign.

We have often had occasion to admire the justice and wisdom of the

advice which on all occasions the Duke Namo of Bavaria gave to

Charlemagne, and he now discountenanced, with indignation, the

selfish advice of Amaury. He represented to the Emperor the early

age of the children of Sevinus, and the useful and glorious

services of their late father, and proposed to Charlemagne to send

two knights to the Duchess at Bordeaux, to summon her two sons to

the court of the Emperor, to pay their respects and render homage.

Charlemagne approved this advice, and sent two chevaliers to

demand the two young princes of their mother. No sooner had the

Duchess learned the approach of the two knights, than she sent

distinguished persons to receive them; and as soon as they entered

the palace she presented herself before them, with her elder and

younger sons, Huon and Girard.

The deputies, delighted with the honors and caresses they

received, accompanied with rich presents, left Bordeaux with

regret and on their return represented to Charlemagne that the

young Duke Huon seemed born to tread in the footsteps of his brave

father, informing him that in three months the young princes of

Guienne would present themselves at his court.

The Duchess employed the short interval in giving her sons her

last instructions. Huon received them in his heart, and Girard

gave as much heed to them as could be expected from one so young.

The preparations for their departure having been made, the Duchess

embraced them tenderly, commending them to the care of Heaven, and

charged them to call, on their way, at the celebrated monastery of

Cluny, to visit the Abbot, the brother of their father. This

Abbot, worthy of his high dignity, had never lost an opportunity

of doing good, setting an example of every excellence, and making

virtue attractive by his example.

He received his nephews with the greatest magnificence; and, aware

how useful his presence might be to them with Charlemagne, whose

valued counsellor he was, he took with them the road to Paris.

When Amaury learned what reception the two deputies of Charlemagne

had received at Bordeaux, and the arrangements made for the visit

of the young princes to the Emperor's court, he suggested to

Charlot to give him a troop of his guards, with which he proposed

to lay wait for the young men in the wood of Montlery, put them to

death, and thereby give the prince Charlot possession of the duchy

of Guienne.

A plan of treachery and violence agreed but too well with

Charlot's disposition. He not only adopted the suggestion of

Amaury, but insisted upon taking a part in it. They went out

secretly, by night, followed by a great number of attendants, all

armed in black, to lie in ambuscade in the wood where the brothers

were to pass.

Girard, the younger of the two, having amused himself as he rode

by flying his hawk at such game as presented itself, had ridden in

advance of his brother and the Abbot of Cluny. Charlot, who saw

him coming, alone and unarmed, went forth to meet him, sought a

quarrel with him, and threw him from his horse with a stroke of

his lance. Girard uttered a cry as he fell; Huon heard it, and

flew to his defence, with no other weapon than his sword. He came

up with him, and saw the blood flowing from his wound. "What has

this child done to you, wretch!" he exclaimed to Charlot. "How

cowardly to attack him when unprepared to defend himself!" "By my

faith," said Charlot, "I mean to do the same by you. Know that I

am the son of Duke Thierry of Ardennes, from whom your father,

Sevinus, took three castles; I have sworn to avenge him, and I

defy you." "Coward," answered Huon, "I know well the baseness that

dwells in your race; worthy son of Thierry, use the advantage that

your armor gives you; but know that I fear you not." At these

words Charlot had the wickedness to put his lance in rest, and to

run upon Huon, who had barely time to wrap his arm in his mantle.

With this feeble buckler he received the thrust of the lance. It

penetrated the mantle, but missed his body. Then, rising upon his

stirrups, Sir Huon struck Charlot so terrible a blow with his

sword that the helmet was cleft asunder, and his head too. The

dastardly prince fell dead upon the ground.

Huon now perceived that the wood was full of armed men. He called

the men of his suite, and they hastily put themselves in order,

but nobody issued from the wood to attack him. Amaury, who saw

Charlot's fall, had no desire to compromit himself; and, feeling

sure that Charlemagne would avenge the death of his son, he saw no

occasion for his doing anything more at present. He left Huon and

the Abbot of Cluny to bind up the wound of Girard, and, having

seen them depart and resume their way to Paris, he took up the

body of Charlot, and, placing it across a horse, had it carried to

Paris, where he arrived four hours after Huon.

The Abbot of Cluny presented his nephew to Charlemagne, but Huon

refrained from paying his obeisance, complaining grievously of the

ambush which had been set for him, which he said could not have

been without the Emperor's permission. Charlemagne, surprised at a

charge which his magnanimous soul was incapable of meriting, asked

eagerly of the Abbot what were the grounds of the complaints of

his nephew. The Abbot told him faithfully all that had happened,

informing him that a coward knight, who called himself the son of

Thierry of Ardennes, had wounded Girard, and run upon Huon, who

was unarmed; but by his force and valor he had overcome the

traitor, and left him dead upon the plain.

Charlemagne indignantly disavowed any connection with the action

of the infamous Thierry, congratulated the young Duke upon his

victory, himself conducted the two brothers to a rich apartment,

stayed to see the first dressing applied to the wound of Girard,

and left the brothers in charge of Duke Namo of Bavaria, who,

having been a companion in arms of the Duke Sevinus, regarded the

young men almost as if they were his own sons.

Charlemagne had hardly quitted them when, returning to his

chamber, he heard cries, and saw through the window a party of

armed men just arrived. He recognized Amaury, who bore a dead

knight stretched across a horse; and the name of Charlot was heard

among the exclamations of the people assembled in the court-yard.

Charles's partiality for this unworthy son was one of his

weaknesses. He descended in trepidation to the court-yard, ran to

Amaury, and uttered a cry of grief on recognizing Charlot. "It is

Huon of Bordeaux," said the traitor Amaury, "who has massacred

your son before it was in my power to defend him." Charlemagne,

furious at these words, seized a sword, and flew to the apartment

of the two brothers to plunge it into the heart of the murderer of

his son. Duke Namo stopped his hand for an instant, while Charles

told him the crime of which Huon was accused. "He is a peer of the

realm," said Namo, "and if he is guilty, is he not here in your

power, and are not we peers the proper judges to condemn him to

death? Let not your hand be stained with his blood." The Emperor,

calmed by the wisdom of Duke Namo, summoned Amaury to his

presence. The peers assembled to hear his testimony, and the

traitor accused Huon of Bordeaux of having struck the fatal blow

without allowing Charlot an opportunity to defend himself, and

though he knew that his opponent was the Emperor's eldest son.

The Abbot of Cluny, indignant at the false accusation of Amaury,

advanced, and said, "By Saint Benedict, sire, the traitor lies in

his throat. If my nephew has slain Charlot it was in his own

defence, and after having seen his brother wounded by him, and

also in ignorance that his adversary was the prince. Though I am a

son of the Church," added the good Abbot, "I forget not that I am

a knight by birth. I offer to prove with my body the lie upon

Amaury, if he dares sustain it, and I shall feel that I am doing a

better work to punish a disloyal traitor, than to sing lauds and

matins."

Huon to this time had kept silent, amazed at the black calumny of

Amaury; but now he stepped forth, and, addressing Amaury, said:

"Traitor! darest thou maintain in arms the lie thou hast uttered?"

Amaury, a knight of great prowess, despising the youth and slight

figure of Huon, hesitated not to offer his glove, which Huon

seized; then, turning again to the peers, he said: "I pray you let

the combat be allowed me, for never was there a more legitimate

cause." The Duke Namo and the rest, deciding that the question

should be remitted to the judgment of Heaven, the combat was

ordained, to which Charlemagne unwillingly consented. The young

Duke was restored to the charge of Duke Namo, who the next morning

invested him with the honors of knighthood, and gave him armor of

proof, with a white shield. The Abbot of Cluny, delighted to find

in his nephew sentiments worthy of his birth, embraced him, gave

him his blessing, and hastened to the church of St. Germains to

pray for him, while the officers of the king prepared the lists

for the combat.

The battle was long and obstinate. The address and agility of Huon

enabled him to avoid the terrible blows which the ferocious Amaury

aimed at him. But Huon had more than once drawn blood from his

antagonist. The effect began to be perceived in the failing

strength of the traitor; at last he threw himself from his horse,

and kneeling, begged for mercy. "Spare me," he said, "and I will

confess all. Aid me to rise, and lead me to Charlemagne." The

brave and loyal Huon, at these words, put his sword under his left

arm, and stretched out his right to raise the prostrate man, who

seized the opportunity to give him a thrust in the side. The

hauberk of Huon resisted the blow, and he was wounded but

slightly. Transported with rage at this act of baseness, he forgot

how necessary for his complete acquittal the confession of Amaury

was, and without delay dealt him the fatal blow.

Duke Namo and the other peers approached, had the body of Amaury

dragged forth from the lists, and conducted Huon to Charlemagne.

The Emperor, however, listening to nothing but his resentment and

grief for the death of his son, refused to be satisfied; and under

the plea that Huon had not succeeded in making his accuser retract

his charge seemed resolved to confiscate his estates and to banish

him forever from France. It was not till after long entreaties on

the part of Duke Namo and the rest that he consented to grant Huon

his pardon, under conditions which he should impose.

Huon approached, and knelt before the Emperor, rendered his

homage, and cried him mercy for the involuntary killing of his

son. Charlemagne would not receive the hands of Huon in his own,

but touched him with his sceptre, saying, "I receive thy homage,

and pardon thee the death of my son, but only on one condition.

You shall go immediately to the court of the Sultan Gaudisso; you

shall present yourself before him as he sits at meat; you shall

cut off the head of the most illustrious guest whom you shall find

sitting nearest to him; you shall kiss three times on the mouth

the fair princess, his daughter, and you shall demand of the

Sultan, as token of tribute to me, a handful of the white hair of

his beard, and four grinders from his mouth."

These conditions caused a murmur from all the assembly. "What!"

said the Abbot of Cluny; "slaughter a Saracen prince without first

offering him baptism?" "The second condition is not so hard," said

the young peers, "but the demand that Huon is bound to make of the

old Sultan is very uncivil, and will be hard to obtain."

The Emperor's obstinacy when he had once resolved upon a thing is

well known. To the courage of Huon nothing seemed impossible. "I

accept the conditions," said he, silencing the intercessions of

the old Duke of Bavaria; "my liege, I accept my pardon at this

price. I go to execute your commands, as your vassal and a peer of

France."

The Duke Namo and Abbot of Cluny, being unable to obtain any

relaxation of the sentence passed by Charlemagne, led forth the

young Duke, who determined to set out at once on his expedition.

All that the good Abbot could obtain of him was, that he should

prepare for this perilous undertaking by going first to Rome, to

pay his homage to the Pope, who was the brother of the Duchess

Alice, Huon's mother, and from him demand absolution and his

blessing. Huon promised it, and forthwith set out on his way to

Rome.

HUON OF BORDEAUX (Continued)