courtesy from his companion, who replied, without disguise, that she
was of the race of Clermont, and sister to Rinaldo, whose fame was
perhaps known to him. Rogero, much moved by this intelligence,
entreated her to take off her helmet, and at the discovery of her face
remained transported with delight.
While absorbed in this contemplation, an unexpected danger assailed
them. A party which was placed in a wood, in order to intercept the
retreating Christians, broke from its ambush upon the pair, and
Bradamante, who was uncasqued, was wounded in the head. Rogero was in a
fury at this attack; and Bradamante, replacing her helmet, joined him
in taking speedy vengeance on their enemies. They cleared the field of
them, but became separated in the pursuit, and Rogero, quitting the
chase, wandered by hill and vale in search of her whom he had no sooner
found than lost.
While pursuing this quest he fell in with two knights, whom he joined,
and engaged them to assist him in the search of his companion,
describing her arms, but concealing, from a certain feeling of
jealousy, her quality and sex.
It was evening when they joined company, and having ridden together
through the night the morning was beginning to break, when one of the
strangers, fixing his eyes upon Rogero's shield, demanded of him by
what right he bore the Trojan arms. Rogero declared his origin and
race, and then, in his turn, interrogated the inquirer as to his
pretensions to the cognizance of Hector, which he bore. The stranger
replied, "My name is Mandricardo, son of Agrican, the Tartar king, whom
Orlando treacherously slew. I say treacherously, for in fair fight he
could not have done it. It is in search of him that I have come to
France, to take vengeance for my father, and to wrest from him
Durindana, that famous sword, which belongs to me, and not to him."
When the knights demanded to know by what right he claimed Durindana,
Mandricardo thus related his history:
"I had been, before the death of my father, a wild and reckless youth.
That event awakened my energies, and drove me forth to seek for
vengeance. Determined to owe success to nothing but my own exertions, I
departed without attendants or horse or arms. Travelling thus alone,
and on foot, I espied one day a pavilion, pitched near a fountain, and
entered it, intent on adventure. I found therein a damsel of gracious
aspect, who replied to my inquiries that the fountain was the work of a
fairy, whose castle stood beyond a neighboring hill, where she kept
watch over a treasure which many knights had tried to win, but
fruitlessly, having lost their life or liberty in the attempt. This
treasure was the armor of Hector, prince of Troy, whom Achilles
treacherously slew. Nothing was wanting but his sword, Durindana, and
this had fallen into the possession of a queen named Penthesilea, from
whom it passed through her descendants to Almontes, whom Orlando slew,
and thus became possessed of the sword. The rest of Hector's arms were
saved and carried off by Aeneas, from whom this fairy received them in
recompense of service rendered. 'If you have the courage to attempt
their acquisition,' said the damsel, 'I will be your guide.'"
Mandricardo went on to say that he eagerly embraced the proposal, and
being provided with horse and armor by the damsel, set forth on his
enterprise, the lady accompanying him.
As they rode she explained the dangers of the quest. The armor was
defended by a champion, one of the numerous unsuccessful adventurers
for the prize, all of whom had been made prisoners by the fairy, and
compelled to take their turn, day by day, in defending the arms against
all comers. Thus speaking they arrived at the castle, which was of
alabaster, overlaid with gold. Before it, on a lawn, sat an armed
knight on horseback, who was none other than Gradasso, king of
Sericane, who, in his return home from his unsuccessful inroad into
France, had fallen into the power of the fairy, and was held to do her
bidding. Mandricardo, upon seeing him, dropt his visor, and laid his
lance in rest. The champion of the castle was equally ready, and each
spurred towards his opponent. They met one another with equal force,
splintered their spears, and, returning to the charge, encountered with
their swords. The contest was long and doubtful, when Mandricardo,
determined to bring it to an end, threw his arms about Gradasso,
grappled with him, and both fell to the ground. Mandricardo, however,
fell uppermost, and, preserving his advantage, compelled Gradasso to
yield himself conquered. The damsel now interfered, congratulating the
victor, and consoling the vanquished as well as she might.
Mandricardo and the damsel proceeded to the gate of the castle, which
they found undefended. As they entered they beheld a shield suspended
from a pilaster of gold. The device was a white eagle on an azure
field, in memory of the bird of Jove, which bore away Ganymede, the
flower of the Phrygian race. Beneath was engraved the following couplet:
"Let none with hand profane my buckler wrong
Unless he be himself as Hector strong."
The damsel, alighting from her palfrey, made obeisance to the arms,
bending herself to the ground. The Tartar king bowed his head with
equal reverence; then advancing towards the shield, touched it with his
sword. Thereupon an earthquake shook the ground, and the way by which
he had entered closed. Another and an opposite gate opened, and
displayed a field bristling with stalks and grain of gold. The damsel,
upon this, told him that he had no means of retreat but by cutting down
the harvest which was before him, and by uprooting a tree which grew in
the middle of the field. Mandricardo, without replying, began to mow
the harvest with his sword, but had scarce smitten thrice when he
perceived that every stalk that fell was instantly transformed into
some poisonous or ravenous animal, which prepared to assail him.
Instructed by the damsel, he snatched up a stone and cast it among the
pack. A strange wonder followed; for no sooner had the stone fallen
among the beasts, than they turned their rage against one another, and
rent each other to pieces. Mandricardo did not stop to marvel at the
miracle, but proceeded to fulfil his task, and uproot the tree. He
clasped it round the trunk, and made vigorous efforts to tear it up by
the roots. At each effort fell a shower of leaves, that were instantly
changed into birds of prey, which attacked the knight, flapping their
wings in his face, with horrid screeching. But undismayed by this new
annoyance, he continued to tug at the trunk till it yielded to his
efforts. A burst of wind and thunder followed, and the hawks and
vultures flew screaming away.
But these only gave place to a new foe; for from the hole made by
tearing up the tree issued a furious serpent, and, darting at
Mandricardo, wound herself about his limbs with a strain that almost
crushed him. Fortune, however, again stood his friend, for, writhing
under the folds of the monster, he fell backwards into the hole, and
his enemy was crushed beneath his weight.
Mandricardo, when he was somewhat recovered, and assured himself of the
destruction of the serpent, began to contemplate the place into which
he had fallen, and saw that he was in a vault, incrusted with costly
metals, and illuminated by a live coal. In the middle was a sort of
ivory bier, and upon this was extended what appeared to be a knight in
armor, but was in truth an empty trophy, composed of the rich and
precious arms once Hector's, to which nothing was wanting but the
sword. While Mandricardo stood contemplating the prize a door opened
behind him, and a bevy of fair damsels entered, dancing, who, taking up
the armor piece by piece, led him away to the place where the shield
was suspended; where he found the fairy of the castle seated in state.
By her he was invested with the arms he had won, first pledging his
solemn oath to wear no other blade but Durindana, which he was to wrest
from Orlando, and thus complete the conquest of Hector's arms.
THE INVASION OF FRANCE (Continued)
Mandricardo, having completed his story, now turned to Rogero, and
proposed that arms should decide which of the two was most worthy to
bear the symbol of the Trojan knight.
Rogero felt no other objection to this proposal than the scruple which
arose on observing that his antagonist was without a sword. Mandricardo
insisted that this need be no impediment, since his oath prevented him
from using a sword until he should have achieved the conquest of
Durindana.
This was no sooner said than a new antagonist started up in Gradasso,
who now accompanied Mandricardo. Gradasso vindicated his prior right to
Durindana, to obtain which he had embarked (as was related in the
beginning) in that bold inroad upon France. A quarrel was thus kindled
between the kings of Tartary and Sericane. While the dispute was raging
a knight arrived upon the ground, accompanied by a damsel, to whom
Rogero related the cause of the strife. The knight was Florismart, and
his companion Flordelis. Florismart succeeded in bringing the two
champions to accord, by informing them that he could bring them to the
presence of Orlando, the master of Durindana.
Gradasso and Mandricardo readily made truce, in order to accompany
Florismart, nor would Rogero be left behind.
As they proceeded on their quest they were met by a dwarf, who
entreated their assistance in behalf of his lady, who had been carried
off by an enchanter, mounted on a winged horse. However unwilling to
leave the question of the sword undecided, it was not possible for the
knights to resist this appeal. Two of their number, Gradasso and
Rogero, therefore accompanied the dwarf. Mandricardo persisted in his
search for Orlando, and Florismart, with Flordelis, pursued their way
to the camp of Charlemagne.
Atlantes, the enchanter, who had brought up Rogero, and cherished for
him the warmest affection, knew by his art that his pupil was destined
to be severed from him, and converted to the Christian faith through
the influence of Bradamante, that royal maiden with whom chance had
brought him acquainted. Thinking to thwart the will of Heaven in this
respect, he now put forth all his arts to entrap Rogero into his power.
By the aid of his subservient demons he reared a castle on an
inaccessible height, in the Pyrenean mountains, and to make it a
pleasant abode to his pupil, contrived to entrap and convey thither
knights and damsels many a one, whom chance had brought into the
vicinity of his castle. Here, in a sort of sensual paradise, they were
but too willing to forget glory and duty, and to pass their time in
indolent enjoyment.
It was by the enchanter that the dwarf had now been sent to tempt the
knights into his power.
But we must now return to Rinaldo, whom we left interrupted in his
combat with Rodomont. In search of his late antagonist and intent on
bringing their combat to a decision he entered the forest of Arden,
whither he suspected Rodomont had gone. While engaged on this quest he
was surprised by the vision of a beautiful child dancing naked, with
three damsels as beautiful as himself. While he was lost in admiration
at the sight the child approached him, and, throwing at him handfuls of
roses and lilies, struck him from his horse. He was no sooner down than
he was seized by the dancers, by whom he was dragged about and scourged
with flowers till he fell into a swoon. When he began to revive one of
the group approached him, and told him that his punishment was the
consequence of his rebellion against that power before whom all things
bend; that there was but one remedy to heal the wounds that had been
inflicted, and that was to drink of the waters of Love. Then they left
him.
Rinaldo, sore and faint, dragged himself toward a fountain which flowed
near by, and, being parched with thirst, drank greedily and almost
unconsciously of the water, which was sweet to the taste, but bitter to
the heart. After repeated draughts he recovered his strength and
recollection, and found himself in the same place where Angelica had
formerly awakened him with a rain of flowers, and whence he had fled in
contempt of her courtesy.
This remembrance of the scene was followed by the recognition of his
crime; and, repenting bitterly his ingratitude, he leaped upon Bayard,
with the intention of hastening to Angelica's country, and soliciting
his pardon at her feet.
Let us now retrace our steps, and revert to the time when the paladins
having learned from Dudon the summons of Charlemagne to return to
France to repel the invaders, had all obeyed the command with the
exception of Orlando, whose passion for Angelica still held him in
attendance on her. Orlando, arriving before Albracca, found it closely
beleaguered. He, however, made his way into the citadel, and related
his adventures to Angelica, from the time of his departure up to his
separation from Rinaldo and the rest, when they departed to the
assistance of Charlemagne. Angelica, in return, described the
distresses of the garrison, and the force of the besiegers; and in
conclusion prayed Orlando to favor her escape from the pressing danger,
and escort her into France. Orlando, who did not suspect that love for
Rinaldo was her secret motive, joyfully agreed to the proposal, and the
sally was resolved upon.
Leaving lights burning in the fortress, they departed at nightfall, and
passed in safety through the enemy's camp. After encountering numerous
adventures they reached the sea-side, and embarked on board a pinnace
for France. The vessel arrived safely, and the travellers, disembarking
in Provence, pursued their way by land. One day, heated and weary, they
sought shelter from the sun in the forest of Arden, and chance directed
Angelica to the fountain of Disdain, of whose waters she eagerly drank.
Issuing thence, the Count and damsel encountered a stranger-knight. It
was no other than Rinaldo, who was just on the point of setting off on
a pilgrimage in search of Angelica, to implore her pardon for his
insensibility, and urge his new found passion. Surprise and delight at
first deprived him of utterance, but soon recovering himself, he
joyfully saluted her, claiming her as his, and exhorting her to put
herself under his protection. His presumption was repelled by Angelica
with disdain, and Orlando, enraged at the invasion of his rights,
challenged him to decide their claims by arms.
Terrified at the combat which ensued, Angelica fled amain through the
forest, and came out upon a plain covered with tents. This was the camp
of Charlemagne, who led the army of reserve destined to support the
troops which had advanced to oppose Marsilius. Charles having heard the
damsel's tale, with difficulty separated the two cousins, and then
consigned Angelica, as the cause of quarrel, to the care of Namo, Duke
of Bavaria, promising that she should be his who should best deserve
her in the impending battle.
But these plans and hopes were frustrated. The Christian army, beaten
at all points, fled from the Saracens; and Angelica, indifferent to
both her lovers, mounted a swift palfrey and plunged into the forest,
rejoicing, in spite of her terror, at having regained her liberty. She
stopped at last in a tufted grove, where a gentle zephyr blew, and
whose young trees were watered by two clear runnels, which came and
mingled their waters, making a pleasing murmur. Believing herself far
from Rinaldo, and overcome by fatigue and the summer heat, she saw with
delight a bank covered with flowers so thick that they almost hid the
green turf, inviting her to alight and rest. She dismounted from her
palfrey, and turned him loose to recruit his strength with the tender
grass which bordered the streamlets. Then, in a sheltered nook
tapestried with moss and fenced in with roses and hawthorn-flowers, she
yielded herself to grateful repose.
She had not slept long when she was awakened by the noise made by the
approach of a horse. Starting up, she saw an armed knight who had
arrived at the bank of the stream. Not knowing whether he was to be
feared or not, her heart beat with anxiety. She pressed aside the
leaves to allow her to see who it was, but scarce dared to breathe for
fear of betraying herself. Soon the knight threw himself on the flowery
bank, and leaning his head on his hand fell into a profound reverie.
Then arousing himself from his silence he began to pour forth
complaints, mingled with deep sighs. Rivers of tears flowed down his
cheeks, and his breast seemed to labor with a hidden flame. "Ah, vain
regrets!" he exclaimed; "cruel fortune! others triumph, while I endure
hopeless misery! Better a thousand times to lose life, than wear a
chain so disgraceful and so oppressive!"
Angelica by this time had recognized the stranger, and perceived that
it was Sacripant, king of Circassia, one of the worthiest of her
suitors. This prince had followed Angelica from his country, at the
very gates of the day, to France, where he heard with dismay that she
was under the guardianship of the Paladin Orlando, and that the Emperor
had announced his decree to award her as the prize of valor to that one
of his nephews who should best deserve her.
As Sacripant continued to lament, Angelica, who had always opposed the
hardness of marble to his sighs, thought with herself that nothing
forbade her employing his good offices in this unhappy crisis. Though
firmly resolved never to accept him as a spouse, she yet felt the
necessity of giving him a gleam of hope in reward for the service she
required of him. All at once, like Diana, she stepped forth from the
arbor. "May the gods preserve thee," she said, "and put far from thee
all hard thoughts of me!" Then she told him all that had befallen her
since she parted with him at her father's court, and how she had
availed herself of Orlando's protection to escape from the beleaguered
city. At that moment the noise of horse and armor was heard as of one
approaching; and Sacripant, furious at the interruption, resumed his
helmet, mounted his horse, and placed his lance in rest. He saw a
knight advancing, with scarf and plume of snowy whiteness. Sacripant
regarded him with angry eyes, and, while he was yet some distance off,
defied him to the combat. The other, not moved by his angry tone to
make reply, put himself on his defence. Their horses, struck at the
same moment with the spur, rushed upon one another with the impetuosity
of a tempest. Their shields were pierced each with the other's lance,
and only the temper of their breastplates saved their lives. Both the
horses recoiled with the violence of the shock; but the unknown
knight's recovered itself at the touch of the spur; the Saracen king's
fell dead, and bore down his master with him. The white knight, seeing
his enemy in this condition, cared not to renew the combat, but,
thinking he had done enough for glory, pursued his way through the
forest, and was a mile off before Sacripant had got free from his horse.
As a ploughman, stunned by a thunder-clap which has stricken dead the
oxen at his plough, stands motionless, sadly contemplating his loss, so
Sacripant stood confounded and overwhelmed with mortification at having
Angelica a witness of his defeat. He groaned, he sighed, less from the
pain of his bruises than for the shame of being reduced to such a state
before her. The princess took pity on him, and consoled him as well as
she could. "Banish your regrets, my lord," she said, "this accident has
happened solely in consequence of the feebleness of your horse, which
had more need of rest and food than of such an encounter as this. Nor
can your adversary gain any credit by it, since he has hurried away,
not venturing a second trial." While she thus consoled Sacripant they
perceived a person approach, who seemed a courier, with bag and horn.
As soon as he came up, he accosted Sacripant, and inquired if he had
seen a knight pass that way, bearing a white shield and with a white
plume to his helmet. "I have, indeed, seen too much of him," said
Sacripant, "it is he who has brought me to the ground; but at least I
hope to learn from you who that knight is." "That I can easily inform
you," said the man; "know then that, if you have been overthrown, you
owe your fate to the high prowess of a lady as beautiful as she is
brave. It is the fair and illustrious Bradamante who has won from you
the honors of victory."
At these words the courier rode on his way, leaving Sacripant more
confounded and mortified than ever. In silence he mounted the horse of
Angelica, taking the lady behind him on the croup, and rode away in
search of a more secure asylum. Hardly had they ridden two miles when a
new sound was heard in the forest, and they perceived a gallant and
powerful horse, which, leaping the ravines and dashing aside the
branches that opposed his passage, appeared before them, accoutred with
a rich harness adorned with gold.
"If I may believe my eyes, which penetrate with difficulty the
underwood," said Angelica, "that horse that dashes so stoutly through
the bushes is Bayard, and I marvel how he seems to know the need we
have of him, mounted as we are both on one feeble animal." Sacripant,
dismounting from the palfrey, approached the fiery courser, and
attempted to seize his bridle, but the disdainful animal, turning from
him, launched at him a volley of kicks enough to have shattered a wall
of marble. Bayard then approached Angelica with an air as gentle and
loving as a faithful dog could his master after a long separation. For
he remembered how she had caressed him, and even fed him, in Albracca.
She took his bridle in her left hand, while with her right she patted
his neck. The beautiful animal, gifted with wonderful intelligence,
seemed to submit entirely. Sacripant, seizing the moment to vault upon
him, controlled his curvetings, and Angelica, quitting the croup of the
palfrey, regained her seat.
But, turning his eyes toward a place where was heard a noise of arms,
Sacripant beheld Rinaldo. That hero now loves Angelica more than his
life, and she flies him as the timid crane the falcon.
The fountain of which Angelica had drunk produced such an effect on the
beautiful queen that, with distressed countenance and trembling voice,
she conjured Sacripant not to wait the approach of Rinaldo, but to join
her in flight.
"Am I, then," said Sacripant, "of so little esteem with you that you
doubt my power to defend you? Do you forget the battle of Albracca, and
how, in your defence, I fought single-handed against Agrican and all
his knights?"
Angelica made no reply, uncertain what to do; but already Rinaldo was
too near to be escaped. He advanced menacingly to the Circassian king,
for he recognized his horse.
"Vile thief," he cried, "dismount from that horse, and prevent the
punishment that is your due for daring to rob me of my property. Leave,
also, the princess in my hands; for it would indeed be a sin to suffer
so charming a lady and so gallant a charger to remain in such keeping."
The king of Circassia, furious at being thus insulted, cried out, "Thou
liest, villain, in giving me the name of thief, which better belongs to
thyself than to me. It is true, the beauty of this lady and the
perfection of this horse are unequalled; come on, then, and let us try
which of us is most worthy to possess them."