CHARLEMA

1863
BULFINCH'S MYTHOLOGY:
LEGENDS OF CHARLEMAGNE OR ROMANCE OF THE MIDDLE AGES
by Thomas Bulfinch

"How Agrican with all his northern powers
Besieged Albracca, as romances tell;
The city of Galaphron, from thence to win
The fairest of her sex, Angelica,
His daughter, loved of many prowest knights,
Both paynim, and the peers of Charlemain."
Paradise Regained.

CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCTION.

THOSE who have investigated the origin of the romantic fables
relating to Charlemagne and his peers are of opinion that the deeds of
Charles Martel, and perhaps of other Charleses, have been blended in
popular tradition with those properly belonging to Charlemagne. It was
indeed a most momentous era; and if our readers will have patience,
before entering on the perusal of the fabulous annals which we are
about to lay before them, to take a rapid survey of the real history
of the times, they will find it hardly less romantic than the tales of
the poets.
In the century beginning from the year 600, the countries
bordering upon the native land of our Saviour, to the east and
south, had not yet received his religion. Arabia was the seat of an
idolatrous religion resembling that of the ancient Persians, who
worshipped the sun, moon, and stars. In Mecca, in the year 571,
Mahomet was born, and here, at the age of forty, he proclaimed himself
the prophet of God, in dignity as superior to Christ as Christ had
been to Moses. Having obtained by slow degrees a considerable number
of disciples, he resorted to arms to diffuse his religion. The
energy and zeal of his followers, aided by the weakness of the
neighboring nations, enabled him and his successors to spread the sway
of Arabia and the religion of Mahomet over the countries to the east
as far as the Indus, northward over Persia and Asia Minor, westward
over Egypt and the southern shores of the Mediterranean, and thence
over the principal portion of Spain. All this was done within one
hundred years from the Hegira, or flight of Mahomet from Mecca to
Medina, which happened in the year 622, and is the era from which
Mahometans reckon time, as we do from the birth of Christ.
From Spain the way was open for the Saracens (so the followers of
Mahomet were called) into France, the conquest of which, if
achieved, would have been followed very probably by that of all the
rest of Europe, and would have resulted in the banishment of
Christianity from the earth. For Christianity was not at that day
universally professed, even by those nations which we now regard as
foremost in civilization. Great part of Germany, Britain, Denmark, and
Russia were still pagan or barbarous.
At that time there ruled in France, though without the title of
king, the first of those illustrious Charleses of whom we have spoken,
Charles Martel, the grandfather of Charlemagne. The Saracens of
Spain had made incursions into France in 712 and 718, and had retired,
carrying with them a vast booty. In 725, Anbessa, who was then the
Saracen governor of Spain, crossed the Pyrenees with a numerous
army, and took by storm the strong town of Carcassone. So great was
the terror, excited by this invasion, that the country for a wide
extent submitted to the conqueror, and a Mahometan governor for the
province was appointed and installed at Narbonne. Anbessa, however,
received a fatal wound in one of his engagements, and the Saracens,
being thus checked from further advance, retired to Narbonne.
In 732 the Saracens again invaded France under Abdalrahman, advanced
rapidly to the banks of the Garonne, and laid siege to Bordeaux. The
city was taken by assault and delivered up to the soldiery. The
invaders still pressed forward, and spread over the territories of
Orleans, Auxerre, and Sens. Their advanced parties were suddenly
called in by their chief, who had received information of the rich
abbey of St. Martin of Tours, and resolved to plunder and destroy it.
Charles during all this time had done nothing to oppose the
Saracens, for the reason that the portion of France over which their
incursions had been made was not at that time under his dominion,
but constituted an independent kingdom, under the name of Aquitaine,
of which Eude was king. But now Charles became convinced of the
danger, and prepared to encounter it. Abdalrahman was advancing toward
Tours, when intelligence of the approach of Charles, at the head of an
army of Franks, compelled him to fall back upon Poitiers, in order
to seize an advantageous field of battle.
Charles Martel had called together his warriors from every part of
his dominion, and, at the head of such an army as had hardly ever been
seen in France, crossed the Loire, probably at Orleans, and, being
joined by the remains of the army of Aquitaine, came in sight of the
Arabs in the month of October, 732. The Saracens seem to have been
aware of the terrible enemy they were now to encounter, and for the
first time these formidable conquerors hesitated. The two armies
remained in presence during seven days before either ventured to begin
the attack; but at length the signal for battle was given by
Abdalrahman, and the immense mass of the Saracen army rushed with fury
on the Franks. But the heavy line of the Northern warriors remained
like a rock, and the Saracens, during nearly the whole day, expended
their strength in vain attempts to make an impression upon them. At
length, about four o'clock in the afternoon, when Abdalrahman was
preparing for a new and desperate attempt to break the line of the
Franks, a terrible clamor was heard in the rear of the Saracens. It
was King Eude, who, with his Aquitanians, had attacked their camp, and
a great part of the Saracen army rushed tumultuously from the field to
protect their plunder. In this moment of confusion the line of the
Franks advanced, and, sweeping the field before it, carried fearful
slaughter amongst the enemy. Abdalrahman made desperate efforts to
rally his troops, but when he himself, with the bravest of his
officers, fell beneath the swords of the Christians, all order
disappeared, and the remains of his army sought refuge in their
immense camp, from which Eude and his Aquitanians had been repulsed.
It was now late, and Charles, unwilling to risk an attack on the
camp in the dark, withdrew his army, and passed the night in the
plain, expecting to renew the battle in the morning.
Accordingly, when daylight came, the Franks drew up in order of
battle, but no enemy appeared; and when at last they ventured to
approach the Saracen camp, they found it empty. The invaders had taken
advantage of the night to begin their retreat, and were already on
their way back to Spain, leaving their immense plunder behind to
fall into the hands of the Franks.
This was the celebrated battle of Tours, in which vast numbers of
the Saracens were slain, and only fifteen hundred of the Franks.
Charles received the surname of Martel (the Hammer) in consequence
of this victory.
The Saracens, notwithstanding this severe blow, continued to hold
their ground in the South of France; but Pepin, the son of Charles
Martel, who succeeded to his father's power, and assumed the title
of king, successively took from them the strong places they held;
and in 759, by the capture of Narbonne, their capital, extinguished
the remains of their power in France.
Charlemagne, or Charles the Great, succeeded his father, Pepin, on
the throne in the year 768. This prince, though the hero of numerous
romantic legends, appears greater in history than in fiction.
Whether we regard him as a warrior or as a legislator, as a patron
of learning or as the civilizer of a barbarous nation, he is
entitled to our warmest admiration. Such he is in history; but the
romancers represent him as often weak and passionate, the victim of
treacherous counsellors, and at the mercy of turbulent barons, on
whose prowess he depends for the maintenance of his throne. The
historical representation is doubtless the true one, for it is
handed down in trustworthy records, and is confirmed by the events
of the age. At the height of his power, the French empire extended
over what we now call France, Germany, Switzerland, Holland,
Belgium, and a great part of Italy.
In the year 800, Charlemagne, being in Rome, whither he had gone
with a numerous army to protect the Pope, was crowned by the Pontiff
Emperor of the West. On Christmas day Charles entered the Church of
St. Peter, as if merely to take his part in the celebration of the
mass with the rest of the congregation. When he approached the altar
and stooped in the act of prayer, the Pope stepped forward and
placed a crown of gold upon his head; and immediately the Roman people
shouted, "Life and victory to Charles the August, crowned by God the
great and pacific Emperor of the Romans." The Pope then prostrated
himself before him, and paid him reverence, according to the custom
established in the times of the ancient Emperors, and concluded the
ceremony by anointing him with consecrated oil.
Charlemagne's wars were chiefly against the pagan and barbarous
people, who, under the name of Saxons, inhabited the countries now
called Hanover and Holland. He also led expeditions against the
Saracens of Spain; but his wars with the Saracens were not carried on,
as the romances assert, in France, but on the soil of Spain. He
entered Spain by the Eastern Pyrenees, and made an easy conquest of
Barcelona and Pampeluna. But Saragossa refused to open her gates to
him, and Charles ended by negotiating, and accepting a vast sum of
gold as the price of his return over the Pyrenees.
On his way back, he marched with his whole army through the gorges
of the mountains by way of the valleys of Engui, Eno, and
Roncesvalles. The chief of this region had waited upon Charlemagne, on
his advance, as a faithful vassal of the monarchy; but now, on the
return of the Franks, he had called together all the wild mountaineers
who acknowledged him as their chief, and they occupied the heights
of the mountains under which the army had to pass. The main body of
the troops met with no obstruction, and received no intimation of
danger; but the rear-guard, which was considerably behind, and
encumbered with its plunder, was overwhelmed by the mountaineers in
the pass of Roncesvalles, and slain to a man. Some of the bravest of
the Frankish chiefs perished on this occasion, among whom is mentioned
Roland or Orlando, governor of the marches or frontier of Brittany.
His name became famous in after times, and the disaster of
Roncesvalles and death of Roland became eventually the most celebrated
episode in the vast cycle of romance.
Though after this there were hostile encounters between the armies
of Charlemagne and the Saracens, they were of small account, and
generally on the soil of Spain. Thus the historical foundation for the
stories of the romancers is but scanty, unless we suppose the events
of an earlier and of a later age to be incorporated with those of
Charlemagne's own time.
There is, however, a pretended history, which for a long time was
admitted as authentic, and attributed to Turpin, Archbishop of Rheims,
a real personage of the time of Charlemagne. Its title is "History
of Charles the Great and Orlando." It is now unhesitatingly considered
as a collection of popular traditions, produced by some credulous
and unscrupulous monk, who thought to give dignity to his romance by
ascribing its authorship to a well-known and eminent individual. It
introduces its pretended author, Bishop Turpin, in this manner:-
"Turpin, Archbishop of Rheims, the friend and secretary of Charles
the Great, excellently skilled in sacred and profane literature, of
a genius equally adapted to prose and verse, the advocate of the poor,
beloved of God in his life and conversation, who often fought the
Saracens, hand to hand, by the Emperor's side, he relates the acts
of Charles the Great in one book, and flourished under Charles and his
son Louis, to the year of our Lord eight hundred and thirty."
The titles of some of Archbishop Turpin's chapters will show the
nature of his history. They are these: "Of the Walls of Pampeluna,
that fell of themselves." "Of the War of the holy Facundus, where
the Spears grew." (Certain of the Christians fixed their spears, in
the evening, erect in the ground, before the castle; and found them,
in the morning, covered with bark and branches.) "How the Sun stood
still for Three Days, and the Slaughter of Four Thousand Saracens."
Turpin's history has perhaps been the source of the marvellous
adventures which succeeding poets and romancers have accumulated
around the names of Charlemagne and his Paladins, or Peers. But
Ariosto and the other Italian poets have drawn from different sources,
and doubtless often from their own invention, numberless other stories
which they attribute to the same heroes, not hesitating to quote as
their authority "the good Turpin," though his history contains no
trace of them;- and the more outrageous the improbability, or rather
the impossibility, of their narrations, the more attentive are they to
cite "the Archbishop," generally adding their testimonial to his
unquestionable veracity.
The principal Italian poets who have sung the adventures of the
peers of Charlemagne are Pulci, Boiardo, and Ariosto. The characters
of Orlando, Rinaldo, Astolpho, Gano, and others, are the same in
all, though the adventures attributed to them are different, Boiardo
tells us of the loves of Orlando, Ariosto of his disappointment and
consequent madness, Pulci of his death.
Ogier, the Dane, is a real personage. History agrees with romance in
representing him as a powerful lord who, originally from Denmark and a
Pagan, embraced Christianity, and took service under Charlemagne. He
revolted from the Emperor, and was driven into exile. He afterwards
led one of those bands of piratical Norsemen which ravaged France
under the reigns of Charlemagne's degenerate successors. The
description which an ancient chronicler gives of Charlemagne, as
described by Ogier, is so picturesque, that we are tempted to
transcribe it. Charlemagne was advancing to the siege of Pavia.
Didier, King of the Lombards, was in the city with Ogier, to whom he
had given refuge. When they learned that the king was approaching,
they mounted a high tower, whence they could see far and wide over the
country. "They first saw advancing the engines of war, fit for the
armies of Darius or Julius Caesar. 'There is Charlemagne,' said
Didier. 'No,' said Ogier. The Lombard next saw a vast body of
soldiers, who filled all the plain. 'Certainly Charles advances with
that host,' said the king. 'Not yet,' replied Ogier. 'What hope for
us,' resumed the king, 'if he brings with him a greater host than
that?' At last Charles appeared, his head covered with an iron helmet,
his hands with iron gloves, his breast and shoulders with a cuirass of
iron, his left hand holding an iron lance, while his right hand
grasped his sword. Those who went before the monarch, those who
marched at his side, and those who followed him, all had similar arms.
Iron covered the fields and the roads; iron points reflected the
rays of the sun. This iron, so hard, was borne by a people whose
hearts were harder still. The blaze of the weapons flashed terror into
the streets of the city."
This picture of Charlemagne in his military aspect would be
incomplete without a corresponding one of his "mood of peace." One
of the greatest of modern historians, M. Guizot, has compared the
glory of Charlemagne to a brilliant meteor, rising suddenly out of the
darkness of barbarism to disappear no less suddenly in the darkness of
feudalism. But the light of this meteor was not extinguished, and
reviving civilization owed much that was permanently beneficial to the
great Emperor of the Franks. His ruling hand is seen in the
legislation of his time, as well as in the administration of the laws.
He encouraged learning; he upheld the clergy, who were the only
peaceful and intellectual class, against the encroaching and turbulent
barons; he was an affectionate father, and watched carefully over
the education of his children, both sons and daughters. Of his
encouragement of learning, we will give some particulars.
He caused learned men to be brought from Italy and from other
foreign countries, to revive the public schools of France, which had
been prostrated by the disorders of preceding times. He recompensed
these learned men liberally, and kept some of them near himself,
honoring them with his friendship. Of these the most celebrated is
Alcuin, an Englishman, whose writings still remain, and prove him to
have been both a learned and a wise man. With the assistance of
Alcuin, and others like him, he founded an academy or royal school,
which should have the direction of the studies of all the schools of
the kingdom. Charlemagne himself was a member of this academy on equal
terms with the rest. He attended its meetings, and fulfilled all the
duties of an academician. Each member took the name of some famous man
of antiquity. Alcuin called himself Horace, another took the name of
Augustin, a third of Pindar. Charlemagne, who knew the Psalms by
heart, and who had an ambition to be, according to his conception, a
king after God's own heart, received from his brother academicians the
name of David.
Of the respect entertained for him by foreign nations an interesting
proof is afforded in the embassy sent to him by the Caliph of the
Arabians, the celebrated Haroun al Raschid, a prince in character
and conduct not unlike to Charlemagne. The ambassadors brought with
them, besides other rich presents, a clock, the first that was seen in
Europe, which excited universal admiration. It had the form of a
twelve-sided edifice with twelve doors. These doors formed niches,
in each of which was a little statue representing one of the hours. At
the striking of the hour the doors, one for each stroke, were seen
to open, and from the doors to issue as many of the little statues,
which, following one another, marched gravely round the tower. The
motion of the clock was caused by water, and the striking was effected
by balls of brass equal to the number of the hours, which fell upon
a cymbal of the same metal, the number falling being determined by the
discharge of the water, which, as it sunk in the vessel, allowed their
escape.
Charlemagne was succeeded by his son Louis, a well-intentioned but
feeble prince, in whose reign the fabric reared by Charles began
rapidly to crumble. Louis was followed successively by two
Charleses, incapable princes, whose weak and often tyrannical
conduct is no doubt the source of incidents of that character ascribed
in the romances to Charlemagne.
The lawless and disobedient deportment of Charles's paladins,
instances of which are so frequent in the romantic legends, was also a
trait of the declining empire, but not of that of Charlemagne.
CHAPTER II.
THE PEERS, OR PALADINS.

THE twelve most illustrious knights of Charlemagne were called
Peers, for the equality that reigned among them; while the name of
Paladins, also conferred on them, implies that they were inmates of
the palace and companions of the king. Their names are not always
given alike by the romancers, yet we may enumerate the most
distinguished of them as follows: Orlando or Poland (the former the
Italian, the latter the French form of the name), favorite nephew of
Charlemagne; Rinaldo of Montalban, cousin of Orlando; Namo, Duke of
Bavaria; Salomon, King of Brittany; Turpin, the Archbishop;
Astolpho, of England; Ogier, the Dane; Malagigi, the Enchanter; and
Florismart, the friend of Orlando. There were others who are sometimes
named as paladins, and the number cannot be strictly limited to
twelve. Charlemagne himself must be counted one, and Ganelon, or Gano,
of Mayence, the treacherous enemy of all the rest, was rated high on
the list by his deluded sovereign, who was completely the victim of
his arts.
We shall introduce more particularly to our readers a few of the
principal peers, leaving the others to make their own introduction, as
they appear in the course of our narrative. We begin with Orlando.

ORLANDO.

Milon, or Milone, a knight of great family, and distantly related to
Charlemagne, having secretly married Bertha, the Emperor's sister, was
banished from France, and excommunicated by the Pope. After a long and
miserable wandering on foot as mendicants, Milon and his wife
arrived at Sutri, in Italy, where they took refuge in a cave, and in
that cave Orlando was born. There his mother continued, deriving a
scanty support from the compassion of the neighboring peasants;
while Milon, in quest of honor and fortune, went into foreign lands.
Orlando grew up among the children of the peasantry, surpassing them
all in strength and manly graces. Among his companions in age,
though in station far more elevated, was Oliver, son of the governor
of the town. Between the two boys a feud arose, that led to a fight,
in which Orlando thrashed his rival; but this did not prevent a
friendship springing up between the two which lasted through life.
Orlando was so poor that he was sometimes half naked. As he was a
favorite of the boys, one day four of them brought some cloth to
make him clothes. Two brought white and two red; and from this
circumstance Orlando took his coat-of-arms, or quarterings.
When Charlemagne was on his way to Rome to receive the imperial
crown, he dined in public in Sutri. Orlando and his mother that day
had nothing to eat, and Orlando, coming suddenly upon the royal party,
and seeing abundance of provisions, seized from the attendants as much
as he could carry off, and made good his retreat in spite of their
resistance. The Emperor, being told of this incident, was reminded
of an intimation he had received in a dream, and ordered the boy to be
followed. This was done by three of the knights, whom Orlando would
have encountered with a cudgel on their entering the grotto had not
his mother restrained him. When they heard from her who she was,
they threw themselves at her feet, and promised to obtain her pardon
from the Emperor. This was easily effected. Orlando was received
into favor by the Emperor, returned with him to France and so
distinguished himself that he became the most powerful support of
the throne and of Christianity.*

* It is plain that Shakespeare borrowed from this source the similar
incident in his "As you Like it." The names of characters in the play,
Orlando, Oliver, Rowland, indicate the same thing.

ROLAND AND FERRAUGUS.

Orlando, or Roland, particularly distinguished himself by his combat
with Ferragus. Ferragus was a giant, and moreover, his skin was of
such impenetrable stuff that no sword could make any impression upon
it. The giant's mode of fighting was to seize his adversary in his
arms and carry him off, in spite of all the struggles he could make.
Roland's utmost skill only availed to keep him out of the giant's
clutches, but all his efforts to wound him with the sword were
useless. After long fighting, Ferragus was so weary that he proposed a
truce, and when it was agreed upon, he lay down and immediately fell
asleep. He slept in perfect security, for it was against all the
laws of chivalry to take advantage of an adversary under such
circumstances. But Ferragus lay so uncomfortably for the want of a
pillow, that Orlando took pity upon him, and brought a smooth stone
and placed it under his head. When the giant woke up, after a
refreshing nap, and perceived what Orlando had done, he seemed quite
grateful, became sociable, and talked freely in the usual boastful
style of such characters. Among other things, he told Orlando that
he need not attempt to kill him with a sword, for that every part of
his body was invulnerable, except this; and as he spoke, he put his
hand to the vital part, just in the middle of his breast. Aided by
this information, Orlando succeeded, when the fight was renewed, in
piercing the giant in the very spot he had pointed out, and giving him
a death-wound. Great was the rejoicing in the Christian camp, and many
the praises showered upon the victorious paladin by the Emperor and
all his host.
On another occasion, Orlando encountered a puissant Saracen warrior,
and took from him, as the prize of victory, the sword Durindana.
This famous weapon had once belonged to the illustrious prince
Hector of Troy. It was of the finest workmanship, and of such strength
and temper that no armor in the world could stand against it.

A ROLAND FOR AN OLIVER.

Guerin de Montglave held the lordship of Vienne, subject to
Charlemagne. He had quarrelled with his sovereign, and Charles laid
siege to his city, having ravaged the neighboring country. Guerin
was an aged warrior, but relied for his defence upon his four sons and
two grandsons, who were among the bravest knights of the age. After
the siege had continued two months, Charlemagne received tidings
that Marsilius, king of Spain, had invaded France, and, finding
himself unopposed, was advancing rapidly in the Southern provinces. At
this intelligence, Charles listened to the counsel of his peers, and
consented to put the quarrel with Guerin to the decision of Heaven, by
single combat between two knights, one of each party, selected by lot.
The proposal was acceptable to Guerin and his sons. The names of the
four, together with Guerin's own, who would not be excused, and of the
two grandsons, who claimed their lot, being put into a helmet,
Oliver's was drawn forth, and to him, the youngest of the grandsons,
was assigned the honor and the peril of the combat. He accepted the
award with delight, exulting in being thought worthy to maintain the
cause of his family. On Charlemagne's side Roland was the designated
champion, and neither he nor Oliver knew who his antagonist was to be.
They met on an island in the Rhone, and the warriors of both camps
were ranged on either shore, spectators of the battle. At the first
encounter both lances were shivered, but both riders kept their seats,
immovable. They dismounted, and drew their swords. Then ensued a
combat which seemed so equal, that the spectators could not form an
opinion as to the probable issue. Two hours and more the knights
continued to strike and parry, to thrust and ward, neither showing any
sign of weariness, nor ever being taken at unawares. At length Orlando
struck furiously upon Oliver's shield, burying Durindana in its edge
so deeply that he could not draw it back, and Oliver, almost at the
same moment, thrust so vigorously upon Orlando's breastplate that
his sword snapped off at the handle. Thus were the two warriors left
weaponless. Scarcely pausing a moment, they rushed upon one another,
each striving to throw his adversary to the ground, and failing in
that, each snatched at the other's helmet to tear it away. Both
succeeded, and at the same moment they stood bareheaded face to
face, and Roland recognized Oliver, and Oliver recognized Roland.
For a moment they stood still; and the next, with open arms, rushed
into one another's embrace. "I am conquered," said Orlando. "I yield
me," said Oliver.
The people on the shore knew not what to make of all this. Presently
they saw the two late antagonists standing hand in hand, and it was
evident the battle was at an end. The knights crowded round them,
and with one voice hailed them as equals in glory. If there were any
who felt disposed to murmur that the battle was left undecided, they
were silenced by the voice of Ogier the Dane, who proclaimed aloud
that all had been done that honor required, and declared that he would
maintain that award against all gainsayers.
The quarrel with Guerin and his sons being left undecided, a truce
was made for four days, and in that time, by the efforts of Duke
Namo on the one side, and of Oliver on the other, a reconciliation was
effected. Charlemagne, accompanied by Guerin and his valiant family,
marched to meet Marsilius, who hastened to retreat across the
frontier.

RINALDO.

Rinaldo was one of the four sons of Aymon, who married Aya, the
sister of Charlemagne. Thus Rinaldo was nephew to Charlemagne and
cousin of Orlando.
When Rinaldo had grown old enough to assume arms, Orlando had won
for himself an illustrious name by his exploits against the
Saracens, whom Charlemagne and his brave knights had driven out of
France. Orlando's fame excited a noble emulation in Rinaldo. Eager
to go in pursuit of glory, he wandered in the country near Paris,
and one day saw at the foot of a tree a superb horse, fully equipped
and loaded with a complete suit of armor. Rinaldo clothed himself in
the armor and mounted the horse, but took not the sword. On the day
when, with his brothers, he had received the honor of knighthood
from the Emperor, he had sworn never to bind a sword to his side
till he had wrested one from some famous knight.
Rinaldo took his way to the forest of Arden, celebrated for so
many adventures. Hardly had he entered it, when he met an old man,
bending under the weight of years, and learned from him that the
forest was infested with a wild horse, untamable, that broke and
overturned everything that opposed his career. To attack him, he said,
or even to meet him, was certain death. Rinaldo, far from being
alarmed, showed the most eager desire to combat the animal. This was
the horse Bayard, afterwards so famous. He had formerly belonged to
Amadis of Gaul. After the death of that hero, he had been held under
enchantment by the power of a magician, who predicted that, when the
time came to break the spell, he should be subdued by a knight of
the lineage of Amadis, and not less brave than he.
To win this wonderful horse, it was necessary to conquer him by
force or skill; for from the moment when he should be thrown down,
he would become docile and manageable. His habitual resort was a
cave on the borders of the forest; but woe be to any one who should
approach him, unless gifted with strength and courage more than
mortal. Having told this, the old man departed. He was not, in fact,
an old man, but Malagigi, the enchanter, cousin of Rinaldo, who, to
favor the enterprises of the young knight, had procured for him the
horse and armor which he so opportunely found, and now put him in
the way to acquire a horse unequalled in the world.
Rinaldo plunged into the forest, and spent many days in seeking
Bayard, but found no traces of him. One day he encountered a Saracen
knight, with whom he made acquaintance, as often happened to
knights, by first meeting him in combat. This knight, whose name was
Isolier, was also in quest of Bayard. Rinaldo succeeded in the
encounter, and so severe was the shock that Isolier was a long time
insensible. When he revived, and was about to resume the contest, a
peasant who passed by (it was Malagigi) interrupted them with the news
that the terrible horse was near at hand, advising them to unite their
powers to subdue him, for it would require all their ability.
Rinaldo and Isolier, now become friends, proceeded together to the
attack of the horse. They found Bayard, and stood a long time,
concealed by the wood, admiring his strength and beauty.
A bright bay in color (whence he was called Bayard), with a silver
star in his forehead, and his hind feet white, his body slender, his
head delicate, his ample chest filled out with swelling muscles, his
shoulders broad and full, his legs straight and sinewy, his thick mane
falling over his arching neck,- he came rushing through the forest,
regardless of rocks, bushes, or trees, rending everything that opposed
his way, and neighing defiance.
He first descried Isolier, and rushed upon him. The knight
received him with lance in rest, but the fierce animal broke the
spear, and his course was not delayed by it for an instant. The
Spaniard adroitly stepped aside, and gave way to the rushing
tempest. Bayard checked his career, and turned again upon the
knight, who had already drawn his sword. He drew his sword, for he had
no hope of taming the horse; that, he was satisfied, was impossible.
Bayard rushed upon him, fiercely rearing, now on this side, now on
that. The knight struck him with his sword, where the white star
adorned his forehead, but struck in vain, and felt ashamed, thinking
that he had struck feebly, for he did not know that the skin of that
horse was so tough that the keenest sword could make no impression
upon it.
Whistling fell the sword once more, and struck with greater force,
and the fierce horse felt it, and drooped his head under the blow, but
the next moment turned upon his foe with such a buffet that the
Pagan fell stunned and lifeless to the earth.
Rinaldo, who saw Isolier fall, and thought that his life was reft,
darted towards the horse, and, with his fist, gave him such a blow
on the jaws that the blood tinged his mouth with vermilion. Quicker
than an arrow leaves the bow the horse turned upon him, and tried to
seize his arm with his teeth.
The knight stepped back, and then, repeating his blow, struck him on
the forehead. Bayard turned, and kicked with both his feet with a
force that would have shattered a mountain. Rinaldo was on his
guard, and evaded his attacks, whether made with head or heels. He
kept at his side, avoiding both; but, making a false step, he at
last received a terrible blow from the horse's foot, and at the
shock almost fainted away. A second such blow would have killed him,
but the horse kicked at random, and a second blow did not reach
Rinaldo, who in a moment recovered himself. Thus the contest continued
until by chance Bayard's foot got caught between the branches of an
oak. Rinaldo seized it, and putting forth all his strength and
address, threw him on the ground.
No sooner had Bayard touched the ground, than all his rage subsided.
No longer an object of terror, he became gentle and quiet, yet with
dignity in his mildness.
The paladin patted his neck, stroked his breast, and smoothed his
mane, while the animal neighed and showed delight to be caressed by
his master. Rinaldo, seeing him now completely subdued, took the
saddle and trappings from the other horse, and adorned Bayard with the
spoils.
Rinaldo became one of the most illustrious knights of
Charlemagne's court,- indeed, the most illustrious, if we except
Orlando. Yet he was not always so obedient to the Emperor's commands
as he should have been, and every fault he committed was sure to be
aggravated by the malice of Gan, Duke of Maganza, the treacherous
enemy of Rinaldo and all his house.
At one time Rinaldo had incurred the severe displeasure of
Charlemagne, and been banished from court. Seeing no chance of being
ever restored to favor, he went to Spain, and entered the service of
the Saracen king, Ivo. His brothers, Alardo, Ricardo, and
Ricciardetto, accompanied him, and all four served the king so
faithfully that they rose to high favor with him. The king gave them
land in the mountains on the frontiers of France and Spain, and
subjected all the country round to Rinaldo's authority. There was
plenty of marble in the mountains, the king furnished workmen, and
they built a castle for Rinaldo, surrounded with high walls, so as
to be almost impregnable. Built of white stone, and placed on the brow
of a marble promontory, the castle shone like a star, and Rinaldo gave
it the name of Montalban. Here he assembled his friends, many of
whom were banished men like himself, and the country people
furnished them with provisions in return for the protection the castle
afforded. Yet some of Rinaldo's men were lawless, and sometimes the
supplies were not furnished in sufficient abundance, so that Rinaldo
and his garrison got a bad name for taking by force what they could
not obtain by gift; and we sometimes find Montalban spoken of as a
nest of freebooters, and its defenders called a beggarly garrison.
Charlemagne's displeasure did not last long, and, at the time our
history commences, Rinaldo and his brothers were completely restored
to the favor of the Emperor, and none of his cavaliers served him with
greater zeal and fidelity than they, throughout all his wars with
the Saracens and Pagans.
CHAPTER III.
THE TOURNAMENT.

IT was the month of May and the feast of Pentecost. Charlemagne
had ordered magnificent festivities, and summoned to them, besides his
paladins and vassals of the crown, all strangers, Christian or
Saracen, then sojourning at Paris. Among the guests were King
Grandonio, from Spain; and Ferrau, the Saracen, with eyes like an
eagle; Orlando and Rinaldo, the Emperor's nephews; Duke Namo;
Astolpho, of England, the handsomest man living; Malagigi, the
Enchanter; and Gano, of Maganza, that wily traitor, who had the art to
make the Emperor think he loved him, while he plotted against him.
High sat Charlemagne at the head of his vassals and his paladins,
rejoicing in the thought of their number and their might, while all
were sitting and hearing music, and feasting, when suddenly there came
into the hall four enormous giants, having between them a lady of
incomparable beauty, attended by a single knight. There were many
ladies present who had seemed beautiful till she made her
appearance, but after that they all seemed nothing. Every Christian
knight turned his eyes to her, and every Pagan crowded round her,
while she, with a sweetness that might have touched a heart of
stone, thus addressed the Emperor:-
"High-minded lord, the renown of your worthiness, and of the valor
of these your knights, which echoes from sea to sea, encourages me
to hope that two pilgrims, who have come from the ends of the world to
behold you, will not have encountered their fatigue in vain. And,
before I show the motive which has brought us hither, learn that
this knight is my brother Uberto, and that I am his sister Angelica.
Fame has told us of the jousting this day appointed, and so the prince
my brother has come to prove his valor, and to say that, if any of the
knights here assembled choose to meet him in the joust, he will
encounter them, one by one, at the stair of Merlin, by the Fountain of
the Pine. And his conditions are these: No knight who chances to be
thrown shall be allowed to renew the combat, but shall remain prisoner
to my brother, but if my brother be overthrown, he shall depart out of
the country, leaving me as the prize of the conqueror."
Now it must be stated that this Angelica and her brother who
called himself Uberto, but whose real name was Argalia, were the
children of Galafron, king of Cathay, who had sent them to be the
destruction of the Christian host; for Argalia was armed with an
enchanted lance, which unfailingly overthrew everything it touched,
and he was mounted on a horse, a creature of magic, whose swiftness
outstripped the wind. Angelica possessed also a ring which was a
defence against all enchantments, and when put into the mouth rendered
the bearer invisible. Thus Argalia was expected to subdue and take
prisoners whatever knights should dare to encounter him; and the
charms of Angelica were relied on to entice the paladins to make the
fatal venture, while her ring would afford her easy means of escape.
When Angelica ceased speaking, she knelt before the king and awaited
his answer, and everybody gazed on her with admiration. Orlando
especially felt irresistibly drawn towards her, so that he trembled
and changed countenance. Every knight in the hall was infected with
the same feeling, not excepting old white-headed Duke Namo and
Charlemagne himself.
All stood for a while in silence, lost in the delight of looking
at her. The fiery youth Ferrau could hardly restrain himself from
seizing her from the giants and carrying her away; Rinaldo turned as
red as fire, while Malagigi, who had discovered by his art that the
stranger was not speaking the truth, muttered softly, as he looked
at her, "Exquisite false creature! I will play thee such a trick for
this, as will leave thee no cause to boast of thy visit."
Charlemagne, to detain her as long as possible before him, delayed
his assent till he had asked her a number of questions, all of which
she answered discreetly, and then the challenge was accepted.
As soon as she was gone, Malagigi consulted his book, and found
out the whole plot of the vile, infidel king Galafron, as we have
explained it, so he determined to seek the damsel and frustrate her
designs. He hastened to the appointed spot, and there found the prince
and his sister in a beautiful pavilion, where they lay asleep, while
the four giants kept watch. Malagigi took his book and cast a spell
out of it, and immediately the four giants fell into a deep sleep.
Drawing his sword (for he was a belted knight), he softly approached
the young lady, intending to despatch her at once; but, seeing her
look so lovely, he paused for a moment, thinking there was no need
of hurry, as he believed his spell was upon her, and she could not
wake. But the ring which she wore secured her from the effect of the
spell, and some slight noise, or whatever else it was, caused her at
that moment to awake. She uttered a great cry, and flew to her
brother, and waked him. By the help of her knowledge of enchantment,
they took and bound fast the magician, and, seizing his book, turned
his arts against himself. Then they summoned a crowd of demons, and
bade them seize their prisoner and bear him to king Galafron, at his
great city of Albracca, which they did, and, on his arrival, he was
locked up in a rock under the sea.
While these things were going on, all was uproar at Paris, since
Orlando insisted upon being the first to try the adventure at the
stair of Merlin. This was resented by the other pretenders to
Angelica, and all contested his right to the precedence. The tumult
was stilled by the usual expedient of drawing lots, and the first
prize was drawn by Astolpho. Ferrau, the Saracen, had the second,
and Grandonio the third. Next came Berlinghieri, and Otho; then
Charles himself, and, as his ill-fortune would have it, after thirty
more, the indignant Orlando.
Astolpho, who drew the first lot, was handsome, brave, and rich.
But, whether from heedlessness or want of skill, he was an unlucky
jouster, and very apt to be thrown, an accident which he bore with
perfect good-humor, always ready to mount again and try to mend his
fortune, generally with no better success.
Astolpho went forth upon his adventure with great gayety of dress
and manner, encountered Argalia, and was immediately tilted out of the
saddle. He railed at fortune, to whom he laid all the fault; but his
painful feelings were somewhat relieved by the kindness of Angelica,
who, touched by his youth and good looks, granted him the liberty of
the pavilion, and caused him to be treated with all kindness and
respect.
The violent Ferrau had the next chance in the encounter, and was
thrown no less speedily than Astolpho; but he did not so easily put up
with his mischance. Crying out, "What are the Emperor's engagements to
me?" he rushed with his sword against Argalia, who, being forced to
defend himself, dismounted and drew his sword, but got so much the
worse of the fight that he made a signal of surrender, and, after some
words, listened to a proposal of marriage from Ferrau to his sister.
The beauty, however, feeling no inclination to match with such a rough
and savage-looking person, was so dismayed at the offer, that, hastily
bidding her brother to meet her in the forest of Arden, she vanished
from the sight of both by means of the enchanted ring. Argalia, seeing
this, took to his horse of swiftness, and dashed away in the same
direction. Ferrau pursued him, and Astolpho, thus left to himself,
took possession of the enchanted lance in place of his own, which
was broken, not knowing the treasure he possessed in it, and
returned to the tournament. Charlemagne, finding the lady and her
brother gone, ordered the jousting; to proceed as at first intended,
in which Astolpho, by aid of the enchanted lance, unhorsed all
comers against him, equally to their astonishment and his own.
The paladin Rinaldo, on learning the issue of the combat of Ferrau
and the stranger, galloped after the fair fugitive in an agony of love
and impatience. Orlando, perceiving his disappearance, pushed forth in
like manner; and, at length, all three are in the forest of Arden,
hunting about for her who is invisible.
Now in this forest there were two fountains, the one constructed
by the sage Merlin, who designed it for Tristram and the fair Isoude;*
for such was the virtue of this fountain, that a draught of its waters
produced an oblivion of the love which the drinker might feel, and
even produced aversion for the object formerly beloved. The other
fountain was endowed with exactly opposite qualities, and a draught of
it inspired love for the first living object that was seen after
tasting it. Rinaldo happened to come to the first-mentioned
fountain, and, being flushed with heat, dismounted, and quenched in
one draught both his thirst and his passion. So far from loving
Angelica as before, he hated her from the bottom of his heart,
became disgusted with the search he was upon, and, feeling fatigued
with his ride, finding a sheltered and flowery nook, laid himself down
and fell asleep.

* See their story in "The Age of Chivalry."

Shortly after came Angelica, but, approaching in a different
direction, she espied the other fountain, and there quenched her
thirst. Then resuming her way, she came upon the sleeping Rinaldo.
Love instantly seized her, and she stood rooted to the spot.
The meadow round was all full of lilies of the valley and wild
roses. Angelica, not knowing what to do, at length plucked a handful
of these, and dropped them, one by one, on the face of the sleeper. He
woke up, and, seeing who it was, received her salutations with averted
countenance, remounted his horse, and galloped away. In vain the
beautiful creature followed and called after him, in vain asked him
what she had done to be so despised. Rinaldo disappeared, leaving
her in despair, and she returned in tears to the spot where she had
found him sleeping. There, in her turn, she herself lay down, pressing
the spot of earth on which he had lain, and, out of fatigue and
sorrow, fell asleep.
As Angelica thus lay, fortune conducted Orlando to the same place.
The attitude in which she was sleeping was so lovely, that it is not
to be conceived, much less expressed. Orlando stood gazing like a
man who had been transported to another sphere. "Am I on earth," he
exclaimed, "or am I in Paradise? Surely it is I that sleep, and this
is my dream."
But his dream was proved to be none in a manner which he little
desired. Ferrau, who had slain Argalia, came up, raging with jealousy,
and a combat ensued which awoke the sleeper.
Terrified at what she beheld, she rushed to her palfrey, and,
while the fighters were occupied with one another, fled away through
the forest. The champions continued their fight till they were
interrupted by a messenger, who brought word to Ferrau that king
Marsilius, his sovereign, was in pressing need of his assistance,
and conjured him to return to Spain. Ferrau, upon this, proposed to
suspend the combat to which Orlando, eager to pursue Angelica, agreed.
Ferrau, on the other hand, departed with the messenger to Spain.
Orlando's quest for the fair fugitive was all in vain. Aided by
the powers of magic, she made a speedy return to her own country.
But the thought of Rinaldo could not be banished from her mind,
and she determined to set Malagigi at liberty, and to employ him to
win Rinaldo, if possible, to make her a return of affection. She
accordingly freed him from his dungeon, unlocking his fetters with her
own hands, and restored him his book, promising him ample honors and
rewards, on condition of his bringing Rinaldo to her feet.
Malagigi accordingly, with the aid of his book, called up a demon,
mounted him, and departed. Arrived at his destination, he inveigled
Rinaldo into an enchanted bark, which conveyed him, without any
visible pilot, to an island where stood an edifice called Joyous
Castle. The whole island was a garden. On the western side, close to
the sea, was the palace, built of marble, so clear and polished that
it reflected the landscape about it. Rinaldo leapt ashore, and soon
met a lady, who invited him to enter. The house was as beautiful
within as without, full of rooms adorned with azure and gold, and with
noble paintings. The lady led the knight into an apartment painted
with stories, and opening to the garden, through pillars of crystal,
with golden capitals. Here he found a bevy of ladies, three of whom
were singing in concert, while another played on an instrument of
exquisite accord, and the rest danced round about them. When the
ladies beheld him coming, they turned the dance into a circuit round
him, and then one of them, in the sweetest manner, said, "Sir
Knight, the tables are set, and the hour for the banquet is come";
and, with these words, still dancing, they drew him across the lawn in
front of the apartment, to a table that was spread with cloth of
gold and fine linen, under a bower of damask roses by the side of a
fountain.
Four ladies were already seated there, who rose, and placed
Rinaldo at their head, in a chair set with pearls. And truly indeed
was he astonished. A repast ensued, consisting of viands the most
delicate, and wines as fragrant as they were fine, drunk out of
jewelled cups; and, when it drew towards its conclusion, harps and
lutes were heard in the distance, and one of the ladies said in the
knight's ear: "This house and all that you see in it are yours; for
you alone was it built, and the builder is a queen. Happy indeed
must you think yourself, for she loves you, and she is the greatest
beauty in the world. Her name is Angelica."
The moment Rinaldo heard the name he so detested, he started up,
with a changed countenance, and, in spite of all that the lady could
say, broke off across the garden, and never ceased hastening till he
reached the place where he landed. The bark was still on the shore. He
sprang into it, and pushed off, though he saw nobody in it but
himself. It was in vain for him to try to control its movements, for
it dashed on as if in fury, till it reached a distant shore covered
with a gloomy forest. Here Rinaldo, surrounded by enchantments of a
very different sort from those which he had lately resisted, was
entrapped into a pit.
The pit belonged to a castle called Altaripa, which was hung with
human heads, and painted red with blood. As the paladin was viewing
the scene with amazement, a hideous old woman made her appearance at
the edge of the pit, and told him that he was destined to be thrown to
a monster, who was only kept from devastating the whole country by
being supplied with living human flesh. Rinaldo said, "Be it so; let
me but remain armed as I am, and I fear nothing." The old woman
laughed in derision. Rinaldo remained in the pit all night, and the
next morning was taken to the place where the monster had his den.
It was a court surrounded by a high wall. Rinaldo was shut in with the
beast, and a terrible combat ensued. Rinaldo was unable to make any
impression on the scales of the monster, while he, on the contrary,
with his dreadful claws, tore away plate and mail from the paladin.
Rinaldo began to think his last hour was come, and cast his eyes
around and above to see if there was any means of escape He
perceived a beam projecting from the wall at the height of some ten
feet, and, taking a leap almost miraculous, he succeeded in reaching
it, and in flinging himself up across it. Here he sat for hours, the
hideous brute continually trying to reach him. All at once, he heard
the sound of something coming through the air like a bird, and
suddenly Angelica herself alighted on the end of the beam. She held
something in her hand towards him, and spoke to him in a loving voice.
But the moment Rinaldo saw her, he commanded her to go away, refused
all her offers of assistance, and at length declared that, if she
did not leave him, he would cast himself down to the monster and
meet his fate.
Angelica, saying she would lose her life rather than displease
him, departed; but first she threw to the monster a cake of wax she
had prepared, and spread around him a rope knotted with nooses. The
beast took the bait, and, finding his teeth glued together by the wax,
vented his fury in bounds and leaps, and, soon getting entangled in
the nooses, drew them tight by his struggles, so that he could
scarcely move a limb.
Rinaldo, watching his chance, leapt down upon his back, seized him
round the neck, and throttled him, not relaxing his grip till the
beast fell dead.
Another difficulty remained to be overcome. The walls were of
immense height, and the only opening in them was a grated window of
such strength that he could not break the bars. In his distress
Rinaldo found a file which Angelica had left on the ground, and,
with the help of this, effected his deliverance.
What further adventures he met with will be told in another chapter.
CHAPTER IV.
THE SIEGE OF ALBRACCA.

AT the very time when Charlemagne was holding his plenary court
and his great tournament, his kingdom was invaded by a mighty monarch,
who was moreover so valiant and strong in battle that no one could
stand against him. He was named Gradasso, and his kingdom was called
Sericane. Now, as it often happens to the greatest and the richest
to long for what they cannot have, and thus to lose what they
already possess, this king could not rest content without Durindana,
the sword of Orlando, and Bayard, the horse of Rinaldo. To obtain
these he determined to war upon France, and for this purpose put in
array a mighty army.
He took his way through Spain, and, after defeating Marsilius, the
king of that country, in several battles, was rapidly advancing on
France. Charlemagne, though Marsilius was a Saracen, and had been
his enemy, yet felt it needful to succor him in this extremity from
a consideration of common danger, and, with the consent of his
peers, despatched Rinaldo with a strong body of soldiers against
Gradasso.
There was much fighting, with doubtful results, and Gradasso was
steadily advancing into France. But, impatient to achieve his objects,
he challenged Rinaldo to single combat, to be fought on foot, and upon
these conditions: If Rinaldo conquered, Gradasso agreed to give up all
his prisoners and return to his own country; but if Gradasso won the
day, he was to have Bayard.
The challenge was accepted, and would have been fought had it not
been for the arts of Malagigi, who just then returned from
Angelica's kingdom with set purpose to win Rinaldo to look with
favor upon the fair princess who was dying for love of him. Malagigi
drew Rinaldo away from the army, by putting on the semblance of
Gradasso, and, after a short contest, pretending to fly before him, by
which means Rinaldo was induced to follow him into a boat, in which he
was borne away, and entangled in various adventures, as we have
already related.
The army, left under the command of Ricciardetto, Rinaldo's brother,
was soon joined by Charlemagne and all his peerage, but experienced
a disastrous rout, and the Emperor and many of his paladins were taken
prisoners. Gradasso, however, did not abuse his victory; he took
Charles by the hand, seated him by his side, and told him he warred
only for honor. He renounced all conquests, on condition that the
Emperor should deliver to him Bayard and Durindana, both of them the
property of his vassals, the former of which, as he maintained, was
already forfeited to him by Rinaldo's failure to meet him as agreed.
To these terms Charlemagne readily acceded.
Bayard, after the departure of his master, had been taken in
charge by Ricciardetto, and sent back to Paris, where Astolpho was
in command, in the absence of Charlemagne. Astolpho received with
great indignation the message despatched for Bayard, and replied by
a herald that "he would not surrender the horse of his kinsman
Rinaldo, without a contest. If Gradasso wanted the steed, he might
come and take him, and that he, Astolpho, was ready to meet him in the
field."
Gradasso was only amused at this answer, for Astolpho's fame as a
successful warrior was not high, and Gradasso willingly renewed with
him the bargain which he had made with Rinaldo. On these conditions
the battle was fought. The enchanted lance, in the hands of
Astolpho, performed a new wonder; and Gradasso, the terrible Gradasso,
was unhorsed.
He kept his word, set free his prisoners, and put his army on the
march to return to his own country, renewing his oath, however, not to
rest till he had taken from Rinaldo his horse, and from Orlando his
sword, or lost his life in the attempt.
Charlemagne, full of gratitude to Astolpho, would have kept him near
his person and loaded him with honors, but Astolpho preferred to
seek Rinaldo, with the view of restoring to him his horse, and
departed from Paris with that design.

Our story now returns to Orlando, whom we left fascinated with the
sight of the sleeping beauty, who, however, escaped him while
engaged in the combat with Ferrau. Having long sought her in vain
through the recesses of the wood, he resolved to follow her to her
father's court. Leaving, therefore, the camp of Charlemagne, he
travelled long in the direction of the East, making inquiry
everywhere, if, perchance, he might get tidings of the fugitive. After
many adventures, he arrived one day at a place where many roads
crossed, and, meeting there a courier, he asked him for news. The
courier replied, that he had been despatched by Angelica to solicit
the aid of Sacripant, king of Circassia, in favor of her father
Galafron, who was besieged in his city, Albracca, by Agrican, king
of Tartary. This Agrican had been an unsuccessful suitor to the
damsel, whom he now pursued with arms. Orlando thus learned that he
was within a day's journey of Albracca; and feeling now secure of
Angelica, he proceeded with all speed to her city.
Thus journeying he arrived at a bridge, under which flowed a foaming
river. Here a damsel met him with a goblet, and informed him that it
was the usage of this bridge to present the traveller with a cup.
Orlando accepted the offered cup and drank its contents. He had no
sooner done so than his brain reeled, and he became unconscious of the
object of his journey, and of everything else. Under the influence
of this fascination he followed the damsel into a magnificent and
marvellous palace. Here he found himself in company with many knights,
unknown to him and to each other, though if it had not been for the
Cup of Oblivion of which they all had partaken, they would have
found themselves brothers in arms.

Astolpho, proceeding on his way to seek Rinaldo, splendidly
dressed and equipped, as was his wont, arrived in Circassia, and found
there a great army encamped under the command of Sacripant, the king
of that country, who was leading it to the defence of Galafron, the
father of Angelica. Sacripant, much struck by the appearance of
Astolpho and his horse, accosted him courteously, and tried to
enlist him in his service; but Astolpho, proud of his late
victories, scornfully declined his offers, and pursued his way. King
Sacripant was too much attracted by his appearance to part with him so
easily, and, having laid aside his kingly ornaments, set out in
pursuit of him.
Astolpho next day encountered on his way a stranger knight, named
Sir Florismart, Lord of the Sylvan Tower, one of the bravest and
best of knights, having as his guide a damsel, young, fair, and
virtuous, to whom he was tenderly attached, whose name was
Flordelis. Astolpho, as he approached, defied the knight, bidding
him yield the lady, or prepare to maintain his right by arms,
Florismart accepted the contest, and the knights encountered,
Florismart was unhorsed and his steed fell dead, while Bayard
sustained no injury by the shock.
Florismart was so overwhelmed with despair at his own disgrace and
the sight of the damsel's distress, that he drew his sword and was
about to plunge it into his own bosom. But Astolpho held his hand,
told him that he contended only for glory, and was contented to
leave him the lady.
While Florismart and Flordelis were vowing eternal gratitude, king
Sacripant arrived, and coveting the damsel of the one champion as much
as the horse and arms of the other, defied them to the joust. Astolpho
met the challenger, whom he instantly overthrew, and presented his
courser to Florismart, leaving the king to return to his army on foot.
The friends pursued their route, and erelong Flordelis discovered,
by signs which were known to her, that they were approaching the
waters of Oblivion, and advised them to turn back, or to change
their course. This the knights would not hear of, and, continuing
their march, they soon arrived at the bridge where Orlando had been
taken prisoner.
The damsel of the bridge appeared as before with the enchanted
cup, but Astolpho, forewarned, rejected it with scorn. She dashed it
to the ground, and a fire blazed up which rendered the bridge
unapproachable. At the same moment the two knights were assailed by
sundry warriors, known and unknown, who, having no recollection of
anything, joined blindly in defence of their prison-house. Among these
was Orlando, at sight of whom Astolpho, with all his confidence not
daring to encounter him, turned and fled, owing his escape to the
strength and fleetness of Bayard.
Florismart, meanwhile, overlaid by fearful odds, was compelled to
yield to necessity, and comply with the usage of the fairy. He drank
of the cup, and remained prisoner with the rest. Flordelis, deprived
of her two friends, retired from the scene, and devoted herself to
untiring efforts to effect her lover's deliverance. Astolpho pursued
his way to Albracca, which Agrican was about to besiege. He was kindly
welcomed by Angelica, and enrolled among her defenders. Impatient to
distinguish himself, he one night sallied forth alone, arrived in
Agrican's camp, and unhorsed his warriors right and left by means of
the enchanted lance. But he was soon surrounded and overmatched, and
made prisoner to Agrican.
Relief was, however, at hand; for as the citizens and soldiers
were one day leaning over their walls, they descried a cloud of
dust, from which horsemen were seen to prick forth, as it rolled on
towards the camp of the besiegers. This turned out to be the army of
Sacripant, which immediately attacked that of Agrican, with the view
of cutting a passage through his camp to the besieged city. But
Agrican, mounted upon Bayard, taken from Astolpho, but not armed
with the lance of gold, the virtues of which were unknown to him,
performed wonders, and rallied his scattered troops, which had given
way to the sudden and unexpected assault. Sacripant, on the other
hand, encouraged his men by the most desperate acts of valor, having
as an additional incentive to his courage the sight of Angelica, who
showed herself upon the city walls.
There she witnessed a single combat between the two leaders, Agrican
and Sacripant. In this, at length, her defender appeared to be
overmatched, when the Circassians broke the ring, and separated the
combatants, who were borne asunder in the rush. Sacripant, severely
wounded, profited by the confusion, and escaped into Albracca, where
he was kindly received and carefully tended by Angelica.
The battle continuing, the Circassians were at last put to flight,
and, being intercepted between the enemy's lines and the town,
sought for refuge under the walls. Angelica ordered the drawbridge
to be let down, and the gates thrown open to the fugitives. With these
Agrican, not distinguished in the crowd, entered the place, driving
both Circassians and Cathayans before him, and the portcullis being
dropped, he was shut in.
For a time the terror which he inspired put to flight all
opposers, but when at last it came to be known that few or none of his
followers had effected an entrance with him, the fugitives rallied and
surrounded him on all sides. While he was thus apparently reduced to
the last extremities, he was saved by the very circumstance which
threatened him with destruction. The soldiers of Angelica, closing
upon him from all sides, deserted their defences; and his own
besieging army entered the city in a part where the wall was broken
down.
In this way was Agrican rescued, the city taken, and the inhabitants
put to the sword. Angelica, however, with some of the knights who were
her defenders, among whom was Sacripant, saved herself in the citadel,
which was planted upon a rock.
The fortress was impregnable, but it was scantily victualled, and
ill provided with other necessaries. Under these circumstances,
Angelica announced to those blockaded with her in the citadel her
intention to go in quest of assistance, and, having plighted her
promise of a speedy return, she set out, with the enchanted ring
upon her finger. Mounted upon her palfrey, the damsel passed through
the enemy's lines, and by sunrise was many miles clear of their
encampment.
It so happened that her road led her near the fatal bridge of
Oblivion, and, as she approached it, she met a damsel weeping
bitterly. It was Flordelis, whose lover, Florismart, as we have
related, had met the fate of Orlando and many more, and fallen a
victim to the enchantress of the cup. She related her adventures to
Angelica, and conjured her to lend what aid she might to rescue her
lord and his companions. Angelica, accordingly, watching her
opportunity and aided by her ring, slipped into the castle unseen,
when the door was opened to admit a new victim. Here she speedily
disenchanted Orlando and the rest by a touch of her talisman. But
Florismart was not there. He had been given up to Falerina, a more
powerful enchantress, and was still in durance. Angelica conjured
the rescued captives to assist her in the recovery of her kingdom, and
all departed together for Albracca.
The arrival of Orlando, with his companions, nine in all, and
among the bravest knights of France, changed at once the fortunes of
the war. Wherever the great paladin came, pennon and standard fell
before him. Agrican in vain attempted to rally his troops. Orlando
kept constantly in his front, forcing him to attend to nobody else.
The Tartar king at length bethought him of a stratagem. He turned
his horse, and made a show of flying in despair. Orlando dashed
after him as he desired, and Agrican fled till he reached a green
place in a wood, where there was a fountain.
The place was beautiful, and the Tartar dismounted to refresh
himself at the fountain, but without taking off his helmet, or
laying aside any of his armor. Orlando was quickly at his back, crying
out, "So bold, and yet a fugitive! How could you fly from a single
arm, and think to escape?"
The Tartar king had leaped on his saddle the moment he saw his
enemy, and when the paladin had done speaking, he said, in a mild
voice, "Without doubt you are the best knight I ever encountered,
and fain would I leave you untouched for your own sake, if you would
cease to hinder me from rallying my people. I pretended to fly, in
order to bring you out of the field. If you insist upon fighting, I
must needs fight and slay you, but I call the sun in the heavens to
witness I would rather not. I should be very sorry for your death."
The Count Orlando felt pity for so much gallantry, and he said, "The
nobler you show yourself, the more it grieves me to think that, in
dying without a knowledge of the true faith, you will be lost in the
other world. Let me advise you to save body and soul at once.
Receptive baptism, and go your way in peace."
Agrican replied: "I suspect you to be the paladin Orlando. If you
are, I would not lose this opportunity of fighting with you to be king
of Paradise. Talk to me no more about your things of another world for
you will preach in vain. Each of us for himself, and let the sword
be umpire."
The Saracen drew his sword, boldly advancing upon Orlando, and a
combat began, so obstinate and so long, each warrior being a miracle
of prowess, that the story says it lasted from noon till night.
Orlando then, seeing the stars come out, was the first to propose a
respite.
"What are we to do," said he, "now that daylight has left us?"
Agrican answered readily enough, "Let us repose in this meadow,
and renew the combat at dawn."
The repose was taken accordingly. Each tied up his horse, and
reclined himself on the grass, not far from the other, just as if they
had been friends, Orlando by the fountain, Agrican beneath a pine.
It was a beautiful clear night, and, as they talked together before
addressing themselves to sleep, the champion of Christendom, looking
up at the firmament, said, "That is a fine piece of workmanship,
that starry spectacle; God made it all, that moon of silver, and those
stars of gold, and the light of day, and the sun,- all for the sake of
human kind."
"You wish, I see, to talk of matters of faith," said the Tartar.
"Now I may as well tell you at once, that I have no sort of skill in
such matters, nor learning of any kind. I never could learn anything
when I was a boy. I hated it so that I broke the man's head who was
commissioned to teach me; and it produced such an effect on others,
that nobody ever afterwards dared so much as show me a book. My
boyhood was therefore passed, as it should be, in horsemanship and
hunting, and learning to fight. What is the good of a gentle, man's
poring all day over a book? Prowess to the knight, and preaching to
the clergyman, that is my motto."
"I acknowledge," returned Orlando, "that arms are the first
consideration of a gentleman; but not at all that he does himself
dishonor by knowledge. On the contrary, knowledge is as great an
embellishment of the rest of his attainments, as the flowers are to
the meadow before us; and as to the knowledge of his Maker, the man
that is without it is no better than a stock or a stone or a brute
beast. Neither without study can he reach anything of a due sense of
the depth and divineness of the contemplation."
"Learned or not learned," said Agrican, "you might show yourself
better bred than by endeavoring to make me talk on a subject on
which you have me at a disadvantage. If you choose to sleep, I wish
you good night; but if you prefer talking, I recommend you to talk
of fighting or of fair ladies. And, by the way, pray tell me, are
you not that Orlando who makes such a noise in the world? And what
is it, pray, that brings you into these parts? Were you ever in
love? I suppose you must have been; for to be a knight, and never to
have been in love, would be like being a man without a heart in his
breast."
The Count replied: "Orlando I am, and in love I am. Love has made me
abandon everything, and brought me into these distant regions, and, to
tell you all in one word, my heart is in the hands of the daughter
of King Galafron. You have come against him with fire and sword, to
get possession of his castles and his dominions; and I have come to
help him, for no object in the world but to please his daughter and
win her beautiful hand. I care for nothing else in existence."
Now when the Tartar king, Agrican, heard his antagonist speak in
this manner, and knew him to be indeed Orlando, and to be in love with
Angelica, his face changed color for grief and jealousy, though it
could not be seen for the darkness. His heart began beating with
such violence that he felt as if he should have died. "Well," said
he to Orlando, "we are to fight when it is daylight, and one or
other is to be left here, dead on the ground. I have a proposal to
make to you,- nay, an entreaty. My love is so excessive for the same
lady, that I beg of you to leave her to me. I will owe you my
thanks, and give up the siege and put an end to the war. I cannot bear
that any one should love her, and that I should live to see it. Why,
therefore, should either of us perish? Give her up. Not a soul shall
know it."
"I never yet," answered Orlando, "made a promise which I did not
keep, and nevertheless I own to you that, were I to make a promise
like that, and even swear to keep it, I should not. You might as
well ask me to tear away the limbs from my body, and the eyes out of
my head. I could as well live without breath itself as cease loving
Angelica."
Agrican had hardly patience to let him finish speaking, ere he leapt
furiously on horseback, though it was midnight. "Quit her," said he,
"or die!"
Orlando seeing the infidel getting up, and not being sure that he
would not add treachery to fierceness, had been hardly less quick in
mounting for the combat. "Never," exclaimed he; "I never could have
quitted her if I would, and now I would not if I could. You must
seek her by other means than these."
Fiercely dashed their horses together, in the night-time, on the
green mead. Despiteful and terrible were the blows they gave and
took by the moonlight. Agrican fought in a rage, Orlando was cooler.
And now the struggle had lasted more than five hours, and day began to
dawn, when the Tartar king, furious to find so much trouble given him,
dealt his enemy a blow sharp and violent beyond conception. It cut the
shield in two as if it had been made of wood, and, though blood
could not be drawn from Orlando, because he was fated, it shook and
bruised him as if it had started every joint in his body.
His body only, however, not a particle of his soul. So dreadful
was the blow which the paladin gave in return, that not only shield,
but every bit of mail on the body of Agrican was broken in pieces, and
three of his ribs cut asunder.
The Tartar, roaring like a lion, raised his sword with still greater
vehemence than before, and dealt a blow on the paladin's helmet,
such as he had never yet received from mortal man. For a moment it
took away his senses. His sight failed, his ears tinkled, his
frightened horse turned about to fly; and he was falling from the
saddle, when the very action of falling threw his head upwards, and
thus recalled his recollection.
"What a shame is this!" thought he; "how shall I ever again dare
to face Angelica! I have been fighting, hour after hour, with this
man, and he is but one, and I call myself Orlando! If the combat
last any longer, I will bury myself in a monastery, and never look
on sword again."
Orlando muttered with his lips closed and his teeth ground together;
and you might have thought that fire instead of breath came out of his
nose and mouth. He raised his sword Durindana with both his hands, and
sent it down so tremendously on Agrican's shoulder, that it cut
through breastplate down to the very haunch, nay, crushed the
saddle-bow, though it was made of bone and iron, and felled man and
horse to the earth. Agrican turned as white as ashes, and felt death
upon him. He called Orlando to come close to him, with a gentle voice,
and said, as well as he could: "I believe on Him who died on the
cross. Baptize me, I pray thee, with the fountain, before my senses
are gone. I have lived an evil life, but need not be rebellious to God
in death also. May He who came to save all the rest of the world, save
me!" And he shed tears, that great king, though he had been so lofty
and fierce.
Orlando dismounted quickly, with his own face in tears. He
gathered the king tenderly in his arms, and took and laid him by the
fountain, on a marble rim that it had, and then he wept in concert
with him heartily, and asked his pardon, and so baptized him in the
water of the fountain, and knelt and prayed to God for him with joined
hands.
He then paused and looked at him; and when he perceived his
countenance changed, and that his whole person was cold, he left him
there on the marble rim of the fountain, all armed as he was, with the
sword by his side, and the crown upon his head.
CHAPTER V.
ADVENTURES OF RINALDO AND ORLANDO.

WE left Rinaldo when, having overcome the monster, he quitted the
castle of Altaripa, and pursued his way on foot. He soon met with a
weeping damsel, who, being questioned as to the cause of her sorrow,
told him she was in search of one to do battle to rescue her lover,
who had been made prisoner by a vile enchantress, together with
Orlando and many more. The damsel was Flordelis, the lady-love of
Florismart, and Rinaldo promised his assistance, trusting to
accomplish the adventure either by valor or skill. Flordelis
insisted upon Rinaldo's taking her horse, which he consented to do, on
condition of her mounting behind him.
As they rode on through a wood, they heard strange noises, and
Rinaldo, reassuring the damsel, pressed forward towards the quarter
from which they proceeded. He soon perceived a giant standing under
a vaulted cavern, with a huge club in his hand, and of an appearance
to strike the boldest spirit with dread. By the side of the cavern was
chained a griffin, which, together with the giant, was stationed there
to guard a wonderful horse, the same which was once Argalia's. This
horse was a creature of enchantment, matchless in vigor, speed, and
form, which disdained to share the diet of his fellow-steeds,- corn or
grass,- and fed only on air. His name was Rabican.
This marvellous horse, after his master Argalia had been slain by
Ferrau, finding himself at liberty, returned to his native cavern, and
was here stabled under the protection of the giant and the griffin. As
Rinaldo approached, the giant assailed him with his club. Rinaldo
defended himself from the giant's blows, and gave him one in return,
which, if his skin had not been of the toughest, would have finished
the combat. But the giant, though wounded, escaped, and let loose
the griffin. This monstrous bird towered in air, and thence pounced
down upon Rinaldo, who, watching his opportunity, dealt her a
desperate wound. She had, however, strength for another flight, and
kept repeating her attacks, which Rinaldo parried as he could, while
the damsel stood trembling by, witnessing the contest.
The battle continued, rendered more terrible by the approach of
night, when Rinaldo determined upon a desperate expedient to bring
it to a conclusion. He fell, as if fainting from his wounds, and, on
the close approach of the griffin, dealt her a blow which sheared away
one of her wings. The beast, though sinking, gripped him fast with her
talons, digging through plate and mail; but Rinaldo plied his sword in
utter desperation, and at last accomplished her destruction.
Rinaldo then entered the cavern, and found there the wonderful
horse, all caparisoned. He was coal-black, except for a star of
white on his forehead, and one white foot behind. For speed he was
unrivalled, though in strength he yielded to Bayard. Rinaldo mounted
upon Rabican, and issued from the cavern.
As he pursued his way, he met a fugitive from Agrican's army, who
gave such an account of the prowess of a champion who fought on the
side of Angelica, that Rinaldo was persuaded this must be Orlando,
though at a loss to imagine how he could have been freed from
captivity. He determined to repair to the scene of the contest to
satisfy his curiosity, and Flordelis, hoping to find Florismart with
Orlando, consented to accompany him.
While these things were doing, all was rout and dismay in the
Tartarian army, from the death of Agrican. King Galafron, arriving
at this juncture with an army for the relief of his capital, Albracca,
assaulted the enemy's camp, and carried all before him. Rinaldo had
now reached the scene of action, and was looking on as an
unconcerned spectator, when he was espied by Galafron. The king
instantly recognized the horse Rabican, which he had given to
Argalia when he sent him forth on his ill-omened mission to Paris.
Possessed with the idea that the rider of the horse was the murderer
of Argalia, Galafron rode at Rinaldo, and smote him with all his
force. Rinaldo was not slow to avenge the blow, and it would have gone
hard with the king had not his followers instantly closed round him
and separated the combatants.
Rinaldo thus found himself, almost without his own choice,
enlisted on the side of the enemies of Angelica, which gave him no
concern, so completely had his draught from the fountain of hate
steeled his mind against her.
For several successive days the struggle continued, without any
important results, Rinaldo meeting the bravest knights of Angelica's
party, and defeating them one after the other. At length he
encountered Orlando, and the two knights bitterly reproached one
another for the cause they had each adopted, and engaged in a
furious combat. Orlando was mounted upon Bayard, Rinaldo's horse,
which Agrican had by chance become possessed of, and Orlando had taken
from him as the prize of victory. Bayard would not fight against his
master, and Orlando was getting the worse of the encounter, when
suddenly Rinaldo, seeing Astolpho, who for love of him had arrayed
himself on his side, hard beset by numbers, left Orlando, to rush to
the defence of his friend. Night prevented the combat from being
renewed; but a challenge was given and accepted for their next
meeting.
But Angelica, sighing in her heart for Rinaldo, was not willing that
he should be again exposed to so terrible a venture. She begged a boon
of Orlando, promising she would be his, if he would do her bidding. On
receiving his promise, she enjoined him to set out without delay to
destroy the garden of the enchantress Falerina, in which many
valiant knights had been entrapped, and were imprisoned.
Orlando departed, on his horse Brigliadoro, leaving Bayard in
disgrace for his bad deportment the day before. Angelica, to
conciliate Rinaldo, sent Bayard to him; but Rinaldo remained unmoved
by this, as by all her former acts of kindness.
When Rinaldo learned Orlando's departure, he yielded to the
entreaties of the lady of Florismart, and prepared to fulfil his
promise, and rescue her lover from the power of the enchantress.
Thus both Rinaldo and Orlando were bound upon the same adventure,
but unknown to one another.
The castle of Falerina was protected by a river, which was crossed
by a bridge, kept by a ruffian, who challenged all comers to the
combat; and such was his strength that he had thus far prevailed in
every encounter, as appeared by the arms of various knights which he
had taken from them, and piled up as a trophy on the shore. Rinaldo
attacked him, but with as bad success as the rest, for the bridge-ward
struck him so violent a blow with an iron mace, that he fell to the
ground. But when the villain approached to strip him of his armor,
Rinaldo seized him, and the bridge-ward, being unable to free himself,
leapt with Rinaldo into the lake, where they both disappeared.
Orlando meanwhile, in discharge of his promise to Angelica,
pursued his way in quest of the same adventure. In passing through a
wood he saw a cavalier armed at all points, and mounted, keeping guard
over a lady who was bound to a tree, weeping bitterly. Orlando
hastened to her relief, but was exhorted by the knight not to
interfere, for she had deserved her fate by her wickedness. In proof
of which he made certain charges against her. The lady denied them
all, and Orlando believed her, defied the knight, overthrew him,
and, releasing the lady, departed with her seated on his horse's
croup.
While they rode, another damsel approached on a white palfrey, who
warned Orlando of impending danger, and informed him that he was
near the garden of the enchantress. Orlando was delighted with the
intelligence, and entreated her to inform him how he was to procure
access. She replied that the garden could only be entered at
sunrise, and gave him such instructions as would enable him to gain
admittance. She gave him also a book in which was painted the garden
and all that it contained, together with the palace of the false
enchantress, where she had secluded herself for the purpose of
executing a magic work in which she was engaged. This was the
manufacture of a sword capable of cutting even through enchanted
substances. The object of this labor, the damsel told him, was the
destruction of a knight of the west, by name Orlando, who, she had
read in the book of Fate, was coming to demolish her garden. Having
thus instructed him, the damsel departed.
Orlando, finding he must delay his enterprise till the next morning,
now lay down and was soon asleep. Seeing this, the base woman whom
he had rescued, and who was intent on making her escape to rejoin
her paramour, mounted Brigliadoro, and rode off, carrying away
Durindana.
When Orlando awoke, his indignation, as may be supposed, was great
on the discovery of the theft; but, like a good knight and true, he
was not to be diverted from his enterprise. He tore off a huge
branch of an elm to supply the place of his sword; and, as the sun
rose, took his way towards the gate of the garden, where a dragon
was on his watch. This he slew by repeated blows, and entered the
garden, the gate of which closed behind him, barring retreat.
Looking around him, he saw a fair fountain, which overflowed into a
river, and in the centre of the fountain a figure, over whose forehead
was writtens,-

"The stream which waters violet and rose,
From hence to the enchanted palace goes."

Following the banks of this flowing stream, and rapt in the delights
of the charming garden, Orlando arrived at the palace, and entering
it, found the mistress, clad in white, with a crown of gold upon her
head in the act of viewing herself in the surface of the magic
sword, Orlando surprised her before she could escape, deprived her
of the weapon, and holding her fast by her long hair, which floated
behind, threatened her with immediate death if she did not yield up
her prisoners, and afford him the means of egress. She, however,
was, firm of purpose, making no reply, and Orlando, unable to move her
either by threats or entreaties, was under the necessity of binding
her to a beech, and pursuing his quest as he best might.
He then bethought him of his book, and consulting it, found that
there was an outlet to the south, but that to reach it, a lake was
to be passed, inhabited by a siren, whose song was so entrancing as to
be quite irresistible to whoever heard it; but his book instructed him
how to protect himself against this danger. According to its
directions, while pursuing his path, he gathered abundance of flowers,
which sprung all around, and filled his helmet and his ears, with
them; then listened if he heard the birds sing. Finding that, though
he saw the gaping beak, the swelling throat, and ruffled plumes, he
could not catch a note, he felt satisfied with his defence, and
advanced toward the lake. It was small but deep, and so clear and
tranquil that the eye could penetrate to the bottom.
He had no sooner arrived upon the banks than the waters were seen to
gurgle, and the siren, rising midway out of the pool, sung so
sweetly that birds and beasts came trooping to the water-side, to
listen. Of this Orlando heard nothing, but, feigning to yield to the
charm, sank down upon the bank. The siren issued from the water with
the intent to accomplish his destruction. Orlando seized her by the
hair, and while she sang yet louder (song being her only defence)
cut off her head. Then, following the directions of his book, he
stained himself all over with her blood.
Guarded by this talisman, he met successively all the monsters,
set for defence of the enchantress and her garden, and at length found
himself again at the spot where he had made captive the enchantress,
who still continued fastened to the beech. But the scene was
changed. The garden had disappeared, and Falerina, before so
haughty, now begged for mercy; assuring him that many lives depended
upon the preservation of hers. Orlando promised her life upon her
pledging herself for the deliverance of her captives.
This, however, was no easy task. They were not in her possession,
but in that of a much more powerful enchantress, Morgana, the Lady
of the Lake, the very idea of opposing whom made Falerina turn pale
with fear. Representing to him the hazards of the enterprise, she
led him towards the dwelling of Morgana. To approach it he had to
encounter the same uncourteous bridge-ward who had already defeated
and made captive so many knights, and last of all, Rinaldo. He was a
churl of the most ferocious character, named Arridano. Morgana had
provided him with impenetrable armor, and endowed him in such a manner
that his strength always increased in proportion to that of the
adversary with whom he was matched. No one had ever yet escaped from
the contest, since, such was his power of endurance, he could
breathe freely under water. Hence, having grappled with a knight,
and sunk with him to the bottom of the lake, he returned, bearing
his enemy's arms in triumph to the surface.
While Falerina was repeating her cautions and her counsels,
Orlando saw Rinaldo's arms erected in form of a trophy, among other
spoils made by the villain, and, forgetting their late quarrel,
determined upon revenging his friend. Arriving at the pass, the
churl presuming to bar the way, a desperate contest ensued, during
which Falerina escaped. The churl finding himself overmatched at a
contest of arms, resorted to his peculiar art, grappled his
antagonist, and plunged with him into the lake. When he reached the
bottom Orlando found himself in another world, upon a dry meadow, with
the lake overhead, through which shone the beams of our sun, while the
water stood on all sides like a crystal wall. Here the battle was
renewed, and Orlando had in his magic sword an advantage which none
had hitherto possessed. It had been tempered by Falerina so that no
spells could avail against it. Thus armed, and countervailing the
strength of his adversary by his superior skill and activity, it was
not long before he laid him dead upon the field.
Orlando then made all haste to return to the upper air, and, passing
through the water, which opened a way before him, (such was the
power of the magic sword,) he soon regained the shore, and found
himself in a field, as thickly covered with precious stones as the sky
is with stars.
Orlando crossed the field, not tempted to delay his enterprise by
gathering any of the brilliant gems spread all around him. He next
passed into a flowery meadow, planted with trees, covered with fruit
and flowers, and full of all imaginable delights.
In the middle of this meadow was a fountain, and, fast by it lay
Morgana asleep; a lady of a lovely aspect, dressed in white and
vermilion garments, her forehead well furnished with hair, while she
had scarcely any behind.
While Orlando stood in silence contemplating her beauty, he heard
a voice exclaim, "Seize the fairy by the forelock, if thou hopest fair
success." But his attention was arrested by another object, and he
heeded not the warning. He saw on a sudden an array of towers,
pinnacles and columns, palaces, with balconies and windows, extended
alleys with trees, in short a scene of architectural magnificence
surpassing all he had ever beheld. While he stood gazing in silent
astonishment, the scene slowly melted away and disappeared.*

* This is a poetical description of a phenomenon which is said to be
really exhibited in the strait of Messina, between Sicily and
Calabria. It is called Fata Morgana, or Mirage.

When he had recovered from his amazement, he looked again toward the
fountain. The fairy had awaked and risen, and was dancing round its
border with the lightness of a leaf, timing her footsteps to this
song:-

"Who in this world would wealth and treasure share,
Honor, delight, and state, and what is best,
Quick let him catch me by the lock of hair
Which flutters from my forehead; and be blest.

But let him not the proffered good forbear,
Nor till he seize the fleeting blessing rest;
For present loss is sought in vain to-morrow,
And the deluded wretch is left in sorrow."

The fairy, having sung thus, bounded off, and fled from the
flowery meadow over a high and inaccessible mountain. Orlando
pursued her through thorns and rocks, while the sky gradually became
overcast, and at last he was assailed by tempest, lightning, and hail.
While he thus pursued, a pale and meagre woman issued from a cave,
armed with a whip, and, treading close upon his steps, scourged him
with vigorous strokes. Her name was Repentance, and she told him it
was her office to punish those who neglected to obey the voice of
Prudence, and seize the fairy Fortune when he might.
Orlando, furious at this chastisement turned upon his tormentor, but
might as well have stricken the wind. Finding it useless to resist, he
resumed his chase of the fairy, gained upon her, and made frequent
snatches at her white and vermilion garments, which still eluded his
grasp. At last, on her turning her head for an instant, he profited by
the chance and seized her by the forelock. In an instant the tempest
ceased, the sky became serene, and Repentance retreated to her cave.
Orlando now demanded of Morgana the keys of her prison, and the
fairy, feigning a complacent aspect, delivered up a key of silver,
bidding him to be cautious in the use of it, since to break the lock
would be to involve himself and all in inevitable destruction; a
caution which gave the Count room for long meditation, and led him
to consider

How few amid the suitors who importune
The dame, know how to turn the keys of Fortune.

Keeping the fairy still fast by the forelock, Orlando proceeded
toward the prison, turned the key, without occasioning the mischiefs
apprehended, and delivered the prisoners.
Among these were Florismart, Rinaldo, and many others of the bravest
knights of France. Morgana had disappeared, and the knights, under the
guidance of Orlando, retraced the path by which he had come. They soon
reached, the field of treasure. Rinaldo, finding himself amidst this
mass of wealth, remembered his needy garrison of Montalban, and
could not resist the temptation of seizing part of the booty. In
particular a golden chain, studded with diamonds, was too much for his
self-denial, and he took it and was bearing it off, notwithstanding
the remonstrances of Orlando, when a violent wind caught him and
whirled him back, as he approached the gate. This happened a second
and a third time, and Rinaldo at length yielded to necessity, rather
than to the entreaties of his friends, add cast away his prize.
They soon reached the bridge and passed over without hindrance to
the other side, where they found the trophy decorated with their arms.
Here each knight resumed his own, and all, except the paladins and
their friends, separated as their inclinations or duty prompted.
Dudon, the Dane, one of the rescued knights, informed the cousins that
he had been made prisoner by Morgana while in the discharge of an
embassy to them from Charlemagne, who called upon them to return to
the defence of Christendom. Orlando was too much fascinated by
Angelica to obey this summons, and, followed by the faithful
Florismart, who would not leave him, returned towards Albracca.
Rinaldo, Dudon, Iroldo, Prasildo, and the others, took their way
toward the west.
CHAPTER VI.
THE INVASION OF FRANCE.

AGRAMANT, King of Africa, convoked the kings, his vassals, to
deliberate in council. He reminded them of the injuries he had
sustained from France, that his father had fallen in battle with
Charlemagne, and that his early years had hitherto not allowed him
to wipe out the stain of former defeats. He now proposed to them to
carry war into France.
Sobrino, his wisest councillor, opposed the project, representing
the rashness of it; but Rodomont, the young and fiery king of Algiers,
denounced Sobrino's counsel as base and cowardly, declaring himself
impatient for the enterprise. The king of the Garamantes, venerable
for his age and renowned for his prophetic lore, interposed, and
assured the King that such an attempt would be sure to fail, unless he
could first get on his side a youth marked out by destiny as the
fitting compeer of the most puissant knights of France, the young
Rogero, descended in direct line from Hector of Troy. This prince
was now a dweller upon the mountain Carena, where Atlantes, his
fosterfather, a powerful magician, kept him in retirement, having
discovered by his art that his pupil would be lost to him if allowed
to mingle with the world. To break the spells of Atlantes, and draw
Rogero from his retirement, one only means was to be found. It was a
ring possessed by Angelica, Princess of Cathay, which was a talisman
against all enchantments. If this ring could be procured, all would go
well; without it, the enterprise was desperate.
Rodomont treated this declaration of the old prophet with scorn, and
it would probably have been held of little weight by the council,
had not the aged king, oppressed by the weight of years, expired in
the very act of reaffirming his prediction. This made so deep an
impression on the council, that it was unanimously resolved to
postpone the war until an effort should be made to win Rogero to the
camp.
King Agramant thereupon proclaimed that the sovereignty of a kingdom
should be the reward of whoever should succeed in obtaining the ring
of Angelica. Brunello, the dwarf, the subtlest thief in all Africa,
undertook to procure it.
In prosecution of this design, he made the best of his way to
Angelica's kingdom, and arrived beneath the walls of Albracca while
the besieging army was encamped before the fortress. While the
attention of the garrison was absorbed by the battle that raged below,
he scaled the walls, approached the Princess unnoticed, slipped the
ring from her finger, and escaped unobserved. He hastened to the
seaside, and, finding a vessel ready to sail, embarked, and arrived at
Biserta, in Africa. Here he found Agramant, impatient for the talisman
which was to foil the enchantments of Atlantes and to put Rogero
into his hands. The dwarf, kneeling before the King, presented him
with the ring, and Agramant, delighted at the success of his
mission, crowned him in recompense King of Tingitana.
All were now anxious to go in quest of Rogero. The cavalcade
accordingly departed, and in due time arrived at the mountain of
Carena.
At the bottom of this was a fruitful and well-wooded plain,
watered by a large river, and from this plain was descried a beautiful
garden on the mountain-top, which contained the mansion of Atlantes;
but the ring, which discovered what was before invisible, could not,
though it revealed this paradise, enable Agramant or his followers
to enter it. So steep and smooth was the rock by nature, that even
Brunello failed in every attempt to scale it. He did not, for this,
despair of accomplishing the object; but, having obtained Agramant's
consent, caused the assembled courtiers and knights to celebrate a
tournament upon the plain below. This was done with the view of
seducing Rogero from his fastness, and the stratagem was attended with
success.
Rogero joined the tourney, and was presented by Agramant with a
splendid horse, Frontino, and a magnificent sword. Having learned from
Agramant his intended invasion of France, he gladly consented to
join the expedition.
Rodomont, meanwhile, was too impatient to wait for Agramant's
arrangements, and embarked with all the forces he could raise, made
good his landing on the coast of France, and routed the Christians
in several encounters. Previously to this, however, Gano, or Ganelon
(as he is sometimes called), the traitor, enemy of Orlando and the
other nephews of Charlemagne, had entered into a traitorous
correspondence with Marsilius, the Saracen king of Spain, whom he
invited into France. Marsilius, thus encouraged, led an army across
the frontiers, and joined Rodomont. This was the situation of things
when Rinaldo and the other knights who had obeyed the summons of Dudon
set forward on their return to France.
When they arrived at Buda in Hungary, they found the king of that
country about despatching his son, Ottachiero, with an army to the
succor of Charlemagne. Delighted with the arrival of Rinaldo, he
placed his son and troops under his command. In due time the army
arrived on the frontiers of France, and, united with the troops of
Desiderius, king of Lombardy, poured down into Provence. The
confederate armies had not marched many days through this gay tract,
before they heard a crash of drums and trumpets behind the hills,
which spoke the conflict between the paynims, led by Rodomont, and the
Christian forces. Rinaldo, witnessing from a mountain the prowess of
Rodomont, left his troops in charge of his friends, and galloped
towards him with his lance in rest. The impulse was irresistible,
and Rodomont was unhorsed. But Rinaldo, unwilling to avail himself
of his advantage, galloped back to the hill, and having secured Bayard
among the baggage, returned to finish the combat on foot.
During this interval the battle had become general, the Hungarians
were routed, and Rinaldo, on his return, had the mortification to find
that Ottachiero was wounded, and Dudon taken prisoner. While he sought
Rodomont in order to renew the combat, a new sound of drums and
trumpets was heard, and Charlemagne, with, the main body of his
army, was descried advancing in battle array.
Rodomont, seeing this, mounted the horse of Dudon, left Rinaldo, who
was on foot, and galloped off to encounter this new enemy.
Agramant, accompanied by Rogero, had by this time made good his
landing, and joined Rodomont with all his forces. Rogero eagerly
embraced this first opportunity of distinguishing himself, and
spread terror wherever he went, encountering in turn, and overthrowing
many of the bravest knights of France. At length he found himself
opposite to Rinaldo, who, being interrupted, as we have said, in his
combat with Rodomont, and unable to follow him, being on foot, was
shouting to his late foe to return and finish their combat. Rogero
also was on foot, and seeing the Christian knight so eager for a
contest, proffered himself to supply the place of his late antagonist.
Rinaldo saw at a glance that the Moorish prince was a champion
worthy of his arm, and gladly accepted the defiance. The combat was
stoutly maintained for a time; but now fortune declared decisively
in favor of the infidel army, and Charlemagne's forces gave way at all
points in irreparable confusion. The two combatants were separated
by the crowd of fugitives and pursuers, and Rinaldo hastened to
recover possession of his horse. But Bayard, in the confusion, had got
loose, and Rinaldo followed him into a thick wood, thus becoming
effectually separated from Rogero.
Rogero, also seeking his horse in the medley, came where two
warriors were engaged in mortal combat. Though he knew not who they
were, he could distinguish that one was a paynim and the other a
Christian; and, moved by the spirit of courtesy, he approached them,
and exclaimed, "Let him of the two who worships Christ pause, and hear
what I have to say. The army of Charles is routed and in flight, so
that if he wishes to follow his leader he has no time for delay."
The Christian knight, who was none other than Bradamante, a female
warrior, in prowess equal to the best of knights, was thunderstruck
with the tidings, and would gladly leave the contest undecided, and
retire from the field; but Rodomont, her antagonist, would by no means
consent. Rogero, indignant at his discourtesy, insisted upon her
departure, while he took up her quarrel with Rodomont.
The combat, obstinately maintained on both sides, was interrupted by
the return of Bradamante. Finding herself unable to overtake the
fugitives, and reluctant to leave to another the burden and risk of
a contest which belonged to herself, she had returned to reclaim the
combat. She arrived, however, when her champion had dealt his enemy
such a blow as obliged him to drop both his sword and bridle.
Rogero, disdaining to profit by his adversary's defenceless situation,
sat apart, upon his horse, while that of Rodomont bore his rider,
stunned and stupefied, about the field.
Bradamante approached Rogero, conceiving a yet higher opinion of his
valor on beholding such an instance of forbearance. She addressed him,
excusing herself for leaving him exposed to an enemy from his
interference in her cause; pleading her duty to her sovereign as the
motive. While she spoke, Rodomont, recovered from his confusion,
rode up to them. His bearing was, however, changed; and he
disclaimed all thoughts of further contest with one who, he said, "had
already conquered him by his courtesy." So saying, he quitted his
antagonist, picked up his sword, and spurred out of sight.
Bradamante was now again desirous of retiring from the field, and
Rogero insisted in accompanying her, though yet unaware of her sex.
As they pursued their way, she inquired the name and quality of
her new associate; and Rogero informed her of his nation and family.
He told her that Astyanax, the son of Hector of Troy, established
the kingdom of Messina in Sicily. From him were derived two
branches, which gave origin to two families of renown. From one sprang
the royal race of Pepin and Charlemagne, and from the other, that of
Reggio, in Italy. "From that of Reggio am I derived," he continued.
"My mother, driven from her home by the chance of war, died in
giving me life, and I was taken in charge by a sage enchanter, who
trained me to feats of arms amidst the dangers of the desert and the
chase."
Having thus ended his tale, Rogero entreated a similar return of
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 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, be 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 their 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.
CHAPTER VII.
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 at 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