with all their force, one fighting on foot, the other on horseback. You
need not, however, suppose that the Saracen king found any advantage in
this; for a young page, unused to horsemanship, could not have failed
more completely to manage Bayard than did this accomplished knight. The
faithful animal loved his master too well to injure him, and refused
his aid as well as his obedience to the hand of Sacripant, who could
strike but ineffectual blows, the horse backing when he wished him to
go forward, and dropping his head and arching his back, throwing out
with his legs, so as almost to shake the knight out of the saddle.
Sacripant, seeing that he could not manage him, watched his
opportunity, rose on his saddle, and leapt lightly to the earth; then,
relieved from the embarrassment of the horse, renewed the combat on
more equal terms. Their skill to thrust and parry were equal; one
rises, the other stoops; with one foot set firm they turn and wind, to
lay on strokes or to dodge them. At last Rinaldo, throwing himself on
the Circassian, dealt him a blow so terrible that Fusberta, his good
sword, cut in two the buckler of Sacripant, although it was made of
bone, and covered with a thick plate of steel well tempered. The arm of
the Saracen was deprived of its defence, and almost palsied with the
stroke. Angelica, perceiving how victory was likely to incline, and
shuddering at the thought of becoming the prize of Rinaldo, hesitated
no longer. Turning her horse's head, she fled with the utmost speed;
and, in spite of the round pebbles which covered a steep descent, she
plunged into a deep valley, trembling with the fear that Rinaldo was in
pursuit. At the bottom of this valley she encountered an aged hermit,
whose white beard flowed to his middle, and whose venerable appearance
seemed to assure his piety.
This hermit, who appeared shrunk by age and fasting, travelled slowly,
mounted upon a wretched ass. The princess, overcome with fear, conjured
him to save her life; and to conduct her to some port of the sea,
whence she might embark and quit France, never more to hear the odious
name of Rinaldo.
The old hermit was something of a wizard. He comforted Angelica, and
promised to protect her from all peril. Then he opened his scrip, and
took from thence a book, and had read but a single page when a goblin,
obedient to his incantations, appeared, under the form of a laboring
man, and demanded his orders. He received them, transported himself to
the place where the knights still maintained their conflict, and boldly
stepped between the two.
"Tell me, I pray you," he said, "what benefit will accrue to him who
shall get the better in this contest? The object you are contending for
is already disposed of; for the Paladin Orlando, without effort and
without opposition, is now carrying away the princess Angelica to
Paris. You had better pursue them promptly; for if they reach Paris you
will never see her again."
At these words you might have seen those rival warriors confounded,
stupefied, silently agreeing that they were affording their rival a
fair opportunity to triumph over them. Rinaldo, approaching Bayard,
breathes a sigh of shame and rage, and swears a terrible oath that, if
he overtakes Orlando, he will tear his heart out. Then mounting Bayard
and pressing his flanks with his spurs, he leaves the king of Circassia
on foot in the forest.
Let it not appear strange that Rinaldo found Bayard obedient at last,
after having so long prevented any one from even touching his bridle;
for that fine animal had an intelligence almost human; he had fled from
his master only to draw him on the track of Angelica, and enable him to
recover her. He saw when the princess fled from the battle, and Rinaldo
being then engaged in a fight on foot, Bayard found himself free to
follow the traces of Angelica. Thus he had drawn his master after him,
not permitting him to approach, and had brought him to the sight of the
princess. But Bayard now, deceived like his master with the false
intelligence of the goblin, submits to be mounted and to serve his
master as usual, and Rinaldo, animated with rage, makes him fly toward
Paris, more slowly than his wishes, though the speed of Bayard
outstripped the winds. Full of impatience to encounter Orlando, he gave
but a few hours that night to sleep. Early the next day he saw before
him the great city, under the walls of which the Emperor Charles had
collected the scattered remains of his army. Foreseeing that he would
soon be attacked on all sides, the Emperor had caused the ancient
fortifications to be repaired, and new ones to be built, surrounded by
wide and deep ditches. The desire to hold the field against the enemy
made him seize every means of procuring new allies. He hoped to receive
from England aid sufficient to enable him to form a new camp, and as
soon as Rinaldo rejoined him he selected him to go as his ambassador
into England, to plead for auxiliaries. Rinaldo was far from pleased
with his commission, but he obeyed the Emperor's commands, without
giving himself time to devote a single day to the object nearest his
heart. He hastened to Calais, and lost not a moment in embarking for
England, ardently desiring a hasty despatch of his commission, and a
speedy return to France.
BRADAMANTE AND ROGERO
Bradamante, the knight of the white plume and shield, whose sudden
appearance and encounter with Sacripant we have already told, was in
quest of Rogero, from whom chance had separated her, almost at the
beginning of their acquaintance. After her encounter with Sacripant
Bradamante pursued her way through the forest, in hopes of rejoining
Rogero, and arrived at last on the brink of a fair fountain.
This fountain flowed through a broad meadow. Ancient trees overshadowed
it, and travellers, attracted by the sweet murmur of its waters,
stopped there to cool themselves. Bradamante, casting her eyes on all
sides to enjoy the beauties of the spot, perceived, under the shade of
a tree, a knight reclining, who seemed to be oppressed with the deepest
grief.
Bradamante accosted him, and asked to be informed of the cause of his
distress. "Alas! my lord," said he, "I lament a young and charming
friend, my affianced wife, who has been torn from me by a villain,--let
me rather call him a demon,--who, on a winged horse, descended from the
air, seized her, and bore her screaming to his den. I have pursued them
over rocks and through ravines till my horse is no longer able to bear
me, and I now wait only for death." He added that already a vain
attempt on his behalf had been made by two knights, whom chance had
brought to the spot. Their names were Gradasso, king of Sericane, and
Rogero, the Moor. Both had been overcome by the wiles of the enchanter,
and were added to the number of the captives, whom he held in an
impregnable castle, situated on the height of the mountain. At the
mention of Rogero's name Bradamante started with delight, which was
soon changed to an opposite sentiment when she heard that her lover was
a prisoner in the toils of the enchanter. "Sir Knight," she said, "do
not surrender yourself to despair; this day may be more happy for you
than you think, if you will only lead me to the castle which enfolds
her whom you deplore."
The knight responded, "After having lost all that made life dear to me
I have no motive to avoid the dangers of the enterprise, and I will do
as you request; but I forewarn you of the perils you will have to
encounter. If you fall impute it not to me."
Having thus spoken, they took their way to the castle, but were
overtaken by a messenger from the camp, who had been sent in quest of
Bradamante to summon her back to the army, where her presence was
needed to reassure her disheartened forces, and withstand the advance
of the Moors.
The mournful knight, whose name was Pinabel, thus became aware that
Bradamante was a scion of the house of Clermont, between which and his
own of Mayence there existed an ancient feud. From this moment the
traitor sought only how he might be rid of the company of Bradamante,
from whom he feared no good would come to him, but rather mortal
injury, if his name and lineage became known to her. For he judged her
by his own base model, and, knowing his ill deserts, he feared to
receive his due.
Bradamante, in spite of the summons to return to the army, could not
resolve to leave her lover in captivity, and determined first to finish
the adventure on which she was engaged. Pinabel leading the way, they
at length arrived at a wood, in the centre of which rose a steep, rocky
mountain. Pinabel, who now thought of nothing else but how he might
escape from Bradamante, proposed to ascend the mountain to extend his
view, in order to discover a shelter for the night, if any there might
be within sight. Under this pretence he left Bradamante, and advanced
up the side of the mountain till he came to a cleft in the rock, down
which he looked, and perceived that it widened below into a spacious
cavern. Meanwhile Bradamante, fearful of losing her guide, had followed
close on his footsteps, and rejoined him at the mouth of the cavern.
Then the traitor, seeing the impossibility of escaping her, conceived
another design. He told her that before her approach he had seen in the
cavern a young and beautiful damsel, whose rich dress announced her
high birth, who with tears and lamentations implored assistance; that
before he could descend to relieve her a ruffian had seized her, and
hurried her away into the recesses of the cavern.
Bradamante, full of truth and courage, readily believed this lie of the
Mayencian traitor. Eager to succor the damsel, she looked round for the
means of facilitating the descent, and seeing a large elm with
spreading branches she lopped off with her sword one of the largest,
and thrust it into the opening. She told Pinabel to hold fast to the
larger end, while, grasping the branches with her hands, she let
herself down into the cavern.
The traitor smiled at seeing her thus suspended, and, asking her in
mockery, "Are you a good leaper?" he let go the branch with perfidious
glee, and saw Bradamante precipitated to the bottom of the cave. "I
wish your whole race were there with you," he muttered, "that you might
all perish together."
But Pinabel's atrocious design was not accomplished. The twigs and
foliage of the branch broke its descent, and Bradamante, not seriously
injured, though stunned with her fall, was reserved for other
adventures.
As soon as she recovered from the shock Bradamante cast her eyes around
and perceived a door, through which she passed into a second cavern,
larger and loftier than the first. It had the appearance of a
subterranean temple. Columns of the purest alabaster adorned it, and
supported the roof; a simple altar rose in the middle; a lamp, whose
radiance was reflected by the alabaster walls, cast a mild light around.
Bradamante, inspired by a sense of religious awe, approached the altar,
and, falling on her knees, poured forth her prayers and thanks to the
Preserver of her life, invoking the protection of his power. At that
moment a small door opened, and a female issued from it with naked
feet, and flowing robe and hair, who called her by her name, and thus
addressed her: "Brave and generous Bradamante, know that it is a power
from above that has brought you hither. The spirit of Merlin, whose
last earthly abode was in this place, has warned me of your arrival,
and of the fate that awaits you. This famous grotto," she continued,
"was the work of the enchanter Merlin; here his ashes repose. You have
no doubt heard how this sage and virtuous enchanter ceased to be.
Victim of the artful fairy of the lake, Merlin, by a fatal compliance
with her request, laid himself down living in his tomb, without power
to resist the spell laid upon him by that ingrate, who retained him
there as long as he lived. His spirit hovers about this spot, and will
not leave it, until the last trumpet shall summon the dead to judgment.
He answers the questions of those who approach his tomb, where perhaps
you may be privileged to hear his voice."
Bradamante, astonished at these words, and the objects which met her
view, knew not whether she was awake or asleep. Confused, but modest,
she cast down her eyes, and a blush overspread her face. "Ah, what am
I," said she, "that so great a prophet should deign to speak to me!"
Still, with a secret satisfaction, she followed the priestess, who led
her to the tomb of Merlin. This tomb was constructed of a species of
stone hard and resplendent like fire. The rays which beamed from the
stone sufficed to light up that terrible place, where the sun's rays
never penetrated; but I know not whether that light was the effect of a
certain phosphorescence of the stone itself, or of the many talismans
and charms with which it was wrought over.
Bradamante had hardly passed the threshold of this sacred place when
the spirit of the enchanter saluted her with a voice firm and distinct:
"May thy designs be prosperous, O chaste and noble maiden, the future
mother of heroes, the glory of Italy, and destined to fill the whole
world with their fame. Great captains, renowned knights, shall be
numbered among your descendants, who shall defend the Church and
restore their country to its ancient splendor. Princes, wise as
Augustus and the sage Numa, shall bring back the age of gold.
[Footnote: This prophecy is introduced by Ariosto in this place to
compliment the noble house of Este, the princes of his native state,
the dukedom of Ferrara.] To accomplish these grand destinies it is
ordained that you shall wed the illustrious Rogero. Fly then to his
deliverance, and lay prostrate in the dust the traitor who has snatched
him from you, and now holds him in chains!"
Merlin ceased with these words, and left to Melissa, the priestess, the
charge of more fully instructing the maiden in her future course.
"To-morrow," said she, "I will conduct you to the castle on the rock
where Rogero is held captive. I will not leave you till I have guided
you through this wild wood, and I will direct you on your way so that
you shall be in no danger of mistaking it."
The next morning Melissa conducted Bradamante between rocks and
precipices, crossing rapid torrents, and traversing intricate passes,
employing the time in imparting to her such information as was
necessary to enable her to bring her design to a successful issue.
"Not only would the castle, impenetrable by force, and that winged
horse of his baffle your efforts, but know that he possesses also a
buckler whence flashes a light so brilliant that the eyes of all who
look upon it are blinded. Think not to avoid it by shutting your eyes,
for how then will you be able to avoid his blows, and make him feel
your own? But I will teach you the proper course to pursue.
"Agramant, the Moorish prince, possesses a ring stolen from a queen of
India, which has power to render of no avail all enchantments.
Agramant, knowing that Rogero is of more importance to him than any one
of his warriors, is desirous of rescuing him from the power of the
enchanter, and has sent for that purpose Brunello, the most crafty and
sagacious of his servants, provided with his wonderful ring, and he is
even now at hand, bent on this enterprise. But, beautiful Bradamante,
as I desire that no one but yourself shall have the glory of delivering
from thraldom your future spouse, listen while I disclose the means of
success. Following this path which leads by the seashore, you will come
ere long to a hostelry, where the Saracen Brunello will arrive shortly
before you. You will readily know him by his stature, under four feet,
his great disproportioned head, his squint eyes, his livid hue, his
thick eyebrows joining his tufted beard. His dress, moreover, that of a
courier, will point him out to you.
"It will be easy for you to enter into conversation with him,
announcing yourself as a knight seeking combat with the enchanter, but
let not the knave suspect that you know anything about the ring. I
doubt not that he will be your guide to the castle of the enchanter.
Accept his offer, but take care to keep behind him till you come in
sight of the brilliant dome of the castle. Then hesitate not to strike
him dead, for the wretch deserves no pity, and take from him the ring.
But let him not suspect your intention, for by putting the ring into
his mouth he will instantly become invisible, and disappear from your
eyes."
Saying thus, the sage Melissa and the fair Bradamante arrived near the
city of Bordeaux, where the rich and wide river Garonne pours the
tribute of its waves into the sea. They parted with tender embraces.
Bradamante, intent wholly on her purpose, hastened to arrive at the
hostelry, where Brunello had preceded her a few moments only. The young
heroine knew him without difficulty. She accosted him, and put to him
some slight questions, to which he replied with adroit falsehoods.
Bradamante, on her part, concealed from him her sex, her religion, her
country, and the blood from whence she sprung. While they talk
together, sudden cries are heard from all parts of the hostelry. "O
queen of heaven!" exclaimed Bradamante, "what can be the cause of this
sudden alarm?" She soon learned the cause. Host, children, domestics,
all, with upturned eyes, as if they saw a comet or a great eclipse,
were gazing on a prodigy which seemed to pass the bounds of
possibility. She beheld distinctly a winged horse, mounted with a
cavalier in rich armor, cleaving the air with rapid flight. The wings
of this strange courser were wide extended, and covered with feathers
of various colors. The polished armor of the knight made them shine
with rainbow tints. In a short time the horse and rider disappeared
behind the summits of the mountains.
"It is an enchanter," said the host, "a magician who often is seen
traversing the air in that way. Sometimes he flies aloft as if among
the stars, and at others skims along the land. He possesses a wonderful
castle on the top of the Pyrenees. Many knights have shown their
courage by going to attack him, but none have ever returned, from which
it is to be feared they have lost either their life or their liberty."
Bradamante, addressing the host, said, "Could you furnish me a guide to
conduct me to the castle of this enchanter?" "By my faith," said
Brunello, interrupting, "that you shall not seek in vain; I have it all
in writing, and I will myself conduct you." Bradamante, with thanks,
accepted him for her guide.
The host had a tolerable horse to dispose of, which Bradamante
bargained for, and the next day, at the first dawn of morning, she took
her route by a narrow valley, taking care to have the Saracen Brunello
lead the way.
They reached the summit of the Pyrenees, whence one may look down on
France, Spain, and the two seas. From this height they descended again
by a fatiguing road into a deep valley. From the middle of this valley
an isolated mountain rose, composed of rough and perpendicular rock, on
whose summit was the castle, surrounded with a wall of brass. Brunello
said, "Yonder is the stronghold where the enchanter keeps his
prisoners; one must have wings to mount thither; it is easy to see that
the aid of a flying horse must be necessary for the master of this
castle, which he uses for his prison and for his abode."
Bradamante, sufficiently instructed, saw that the time had now come to
possess herself of the ring; but she could not resolve to slay a
defenceless man. She seized Brunello before he was aware, bound him to
a tree, and took from him the ring which he wore on one of his fingers.
The cries and entreaties of the perfidious Saracen moved her not. She
advanced to the foot of the rock whereon the castle stood, and, to draw
the magician to the combat, sounded her horn, adding to it cries of
defiance.
The enchanter delayed not to present himself, mounted on his winged
horse. Bradamante was struck with surprise mixed with joy when she saw
that this person, described as so formidable, bore no lance nor club,
nor any other deadly weapon. He had only on his arm a buckler, covered
with a cloth, and in his hand an open book. As to the winged horse,
there was no enchantment about him. He was a natural animal, of a
species which exists in the Riphaean mountains. Like a griffin, he had
the head of an eagle, claws armed with talons, and wings covered with
feathers, the rest of his body being that of a horse. This strange
animal is called a Hippogriff.
The heroine attacked the enchanter on his approach, striking on this
side and on that, with all the energy of a violent combat, but wounding
only the wind; and after this pretended attack had lasted some time
dismounted from her horse, as if hoping to do battle more effectually
on foot. The enchanter now prepares to employ his sole weapon, by
uncovering the magic buckler which never failed to subdue an enemy by
depriving him of his senses. Bradamante, confiding in her ring,
observed all the motions of her adversary, and, at the unveiling of the
shield, cast herself on the ground, pretending that the splendor of the
shield had overcome her, but in reality to induce the enchanter to
dismount and approach her.
It happened according to her wish. When the enchanter saw her prostrate
he made his horse alight on the ground, and, dismounting, fixed the
shield on the pommel of his saddle, and approached in order to secure
the fallen warrior. Bradamante, who watched him intently, as soon as
she saw him near at hand, sprang up, seized him vigorously, threw him
down, and, with the same chain which the enchanter had prepared for
herself, bound him fast, without his being able to make any effectual
resistance.
The enchanter, with the accents of despair, exclaimed, "Take my life,
young man!" but Bradamante was far from complying with such a wish.
Desirous of knowing the name of the enchanter, and for what purpose he
had formed with so much art this impregnable fortress, she commanded
him to inform her.
"Alas!" replied the magician, while tears flowed down his cheeks, "it
is not to conceal booty, nor for any culpable design that I have built
this castle; it was only to guard the life of a young knight, the
object of my tenderest affection, my art having taught me that he is
destined to become a Christian, and to perish, shortly after, by the
blackest of treasons.
"This youth, named Rogero, is the most beautiful and most accomplished
of knights. It is I, the unhappy Atlantes, who have reared him from his
childhood. The call of honor and the desire of glory led him from me to
follow Agramant, his prince, in his invasion of France, and I, more
devoted to Rogero than the tenderest of parents, have sought the means
of bringing him back to this abode, in the hope of saving him from the
cruel fate that menaces him.
"For this purpose I have got him in my possession by the same means as
I attempted to employ against you; and by which I have succeeded in
collecting a great many knights and ladies in my castle. My purpose was
to render my beloved pupil's captivity light, by affording him society
to amuse him, and keep his thoughts from running on subjects of war and
glory. Alas! my cares have been in vain! Yet, take, I beseech you,
whatever else I have, but spare me my beloved pupil. Take this shield,
take this winged courser, deliver such of your friends as you may find
among my prisoners, deliver them all if you will, but leave me my
beloved Rogero; or if you will snatch him too from me, take also my
life, which will cease then to be to me worth preserving."
Bradamante replied: "Old man, hope not to move me by your vain
entreaties. It is precisely the liberty of Rogero that I require. You
would keep him here in bondage and in slothful pleasure, to save him
from a fate which you foresee. Vain old man! how can you foresee his
fate when you could not foresee your own? You desire me to take your
life. No, my aim and my soul refuse the request." This said, she
required the magician to go before, and guide her to the castle. The
prisoners were set at liberty, though some, in their secret hearts,
regretted the voluptuous life which was thus brought to an end.
Bradamante and Rogero met one another with transports of joy.