Books: Legends of Charlemagne

T >> Thomas Bulfinch >> Legends of Charlemagne

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But these only gave place to a new foe; for from the hole made by
tearing up the tree issued a furious serpent, and, darting at
Mandricardo, wound herself about his limbs with a strain that
almost crushed him. Fortune, however, again stood his friend, for,
writhing under the folds of the monster, he fell backwards into
the hole, and his enemy was crushed beneath his weight.

Mandricardo, when he was somewhat recovered, and assured himself
of the destruction of the serpent, began to contemplate the place
into which he had fallen, and saw that he was in a vault,
incrusted with costly metals, and illuminated by a live coal. In
the middle was a sort of ivory bier, and upon this was extended
what appeared to be a knight in armor, but was in truth an empty
trophy, composed of the rich and precious arms once Hector's, to
which nothing was wanting but the sword. While Mandricardo stood
contemplating the prize a door opened behind him, and a bevy of
fair damsels entered, dancing, who, taking up the armor piece by
piece, led him away to the place where the shield was suspended;
where he found the fairy of the castle seated in state. By her he
was invested with the arms he had won, first pledging his solemn
oath to wear no other blade but Durindana, which he was to wrest
from Orlando, and thus complete the conquest of Hector's arms.

THE INVASION OF FRANCE (Continued)

Mandricardo, having completed his story, now turned to Rogero, and
proposed that arms should decide which of the two was most worthy
to bear the symbol of the Trojan knight.

Rogero felt no other objection to this proposal than the scruple
which arose on observing that his antagonist was without a sword.
Mandricardo insisted that this need be no impediment, since his
oath prevented him from using a sword until he should have
achieved the conquest of Durindana.

This was no sooner said than a new antagonist started up in
Gradasso, who now accompanied Mandricardo. Gradasso vindicated his
prior right to Durindana, to obtain which he had embarked (as was
related in the beginning) in that bold inroad upon France. A
quarrel was thus kindled between the kings of Tartary and
Sericane. While the dispute was raging a knight arrived upon the
ground, accompanied by a damsel, to whom Rogero related the cause
of the strife. The knight was Florismart, and his companion
Flordelis. Florismart succeeded in bringing the two champions to
accord, by informing them that he could bring them to the presence
of Orlando, the master of Durindana.

Gradasso and Mandricardo readily made truce, in order to accompany
Florismart, nor would Rogero be left behind.

As they proceeded on their quest they were met by a dwarf, who
entreated their assistance in behalf of his lady, who had been
carried off by an enchanter, mounted on a winged horse. However
unwilling to leave the question of the sword undecided, it was not
possible for the knights to resist this appeal. Two of their
number, Gradasso and Rogero, therefore accompanied the dwarf.
Mandricardo persisted in his search for Orlando, and Florismart,
with Flordelis, pursued their way to the camp of Charlemagne.

Atlantes, the enchanter, who had brought up Rogero, and cherished
for him the warmest affection, knew by his art that his pupil was
destined to be severed from him, and converted to the Christian
faith through the influence of Bradamante, that royal maiden with
whom chance had brought him acquainted. Thinking to thwart the
will of Heaven in this respect, he now put forth all his arts to
entrap Rogero into his power. By the aid of his subservient demons
he reared a castle on an inaccessible height, in the Pyrenean
mountains, and to make it a pleasant abode to his pupil, contrived
to entrap and convey thither knights and damsels many a one, whom
chance had brought into the vicinity of his castle. Here, in a
sort of sensual paradise, they were but too willing to forget
glory and duty, and to pass their time in indolent enjoyment

It was by the enchanter that the dwarf had now been sent to tempt
the knights into his power.

But we must now return to Rinaldo, whom we left interrupted in his
combat with Rodomont. In search of his late antagonist and intent
on bringing their combat to a decision he entered the forest of
Arden, whither he suspected Rodomont had gone. While engaged on
this quest he was surprised by the vision of a beautiful child
dancing naked, with three damsels as beautiful as himself. While
he was lost in admiration at the sight the child approached him,
and, throwing at him handfuls of roses and lilies, struck him from
his horse. He was no sooner down than he was seized by the
dancers, by whom he was dragged about and scourged with flowers
till he fell into a swoon. When he began to revive one of the
group approached him, and told him that his punishment was the
consequence of his rebellion against that power before whom all
things bend; that there was but one remedy to heal the wounds that
had been inflicted, and that was to drink of the waters of Love.
Then they left him.

Rinaldo, sore and faint, dragged himself toward a fountain which
flowed near by, and, being parched with thirst, drank greedily and
almost unconsciously of the water, which was sweet to the taste,
but bitter to the heart. After repeated draughts he recovered his
strength and recollection, and found himself in the same place
where Angelica had formerly awakened him with a rain of flowers,
and whence he had fled in contempt of her courtesy.

This remembrance of the scene was followed by the recognition of
his crime; and, repenting bitterly his ingratitude, he leaped upon
Bayard, with the intention of hastening to Angelica's country, and
soliciting his pardon at her feet.

Let us now retrace our steps, and revert to the time when the
paladins having learned from Dudon the summons of Charlemagne to
return to France to repel the invaders, had all obeyed the command
with the exception of Orlando, whose passion for Angelica still
held him in attendance on her. Orlando, arriving before Albracca,
found it closely beleaguered. He, however, made his way into the
citadel, and related his adventures to Angelica, from the time of
his departure up to his separation from Rinaldo and the rest, when
they departed to the assistance of Charlemagne. Angelica, in
return, described the distresses of the garrison, and the force of
the besiegers; and in conclusion prayed Orlando to favor her
escape from the pressing danger, and escort her into France.
Orlando, who did not suspect that love for Rinaldo was her secret
motive, joyfully agreed to the proposal, and the sally was
resolved upon.

Leaving lights burning in the fortress, they departed at
nightfall, and passed in safety through the enemy's camp. After
encountering numerous adventures they reached the sea-side, and
embarked on board a pinnace for France. The vessel arrived safely,
and the travellers, disembarking in Provence, pursued their way by
land. One day, heated and weary, they sought shelter from the sun
in the forest of Arden, and chance directed Angelica to the
fountain of Disdain, of whose waters she eagerly drank.

Issuing thence, the Count and damsel encountered a stranger-
knight. It was no other than Rinaldo, who was just on the point of
setting off on a pilgrimage in search of Angelica, to implore her
pardon for his insensibility, and urge his new found passion.
Surprise and delight at first deprived him of utterance, but soon
recovering himself, he joyfully saluted her, claiming her as his,
and exhorting her to put herself under his protection. His
presumption was repelled by Angelica with disdain, and Orlando,
enraged at the invasion of his rights, challenged him to decide
their claims by arms.

Terrified at the combat which ensued, Angelica fled amain through
the forest, and came out upon a plain covered with tents. This was
the camp of Charlemagne, who led the army of reserve destined to
support the troops which had advanced to oppose Marsilius. Charles
having heard the damsel's tale, with difficulty separated the two
cousins, and then consigned Angelica, as the cause of quarrel, to
the care of Namo, Duke of Bavaria, promising that she should be
his who should best deserve her in the impending battle.

But these plans and hopes were frustrated. The Christian army,
beaten at all points, fled from the Saracens; and Angelica,
indifferent to both her lovers, mounted a swift palfrey and
plunged into the forest, rejoicing, in spite of her terror, at
having regained her liberty. She stopped at last in a tufted
grove, where a gentle zephyr blew, and whose young trees were
watered by two clear runnels, which came and mingled their waters,
making a pleasing murmur. Believing herself far from Rinaldo, and
overcome by fatigue and the summer heat, she saw with delight a
bank covered with flowers so thick that they almost hid the green
turf, inviting her to alight and rest. She dismounted from her
palfrey, and turned him loose to recruit his strength with the
tender grass which bordered the streamlets. Then, in a sheltered
nook tapestried with moss and fenced in with roses and hawthorn-
flowers, she yielded herself to grateful repose.

She had not slept long when she was awakened by the noise made by
the approach of a horse. Starting up, she saw an armed knight who
had arrived at the bank of the stream. Not knowing whether he was
to be feared or not, her heart beat with anxiety. She pressed
aside the leaves to allow her to see who it was, but scarce dared
to breathe for fear of betraying herself. Soon the knight threw
himself on the flowery bank, and leaning his head on his hand fell
into a profound reverie. Then arousing himself from his silence he
began to pour forth complaints, mingled with deep sighs. Rivers of
tears flowed down his cheeks, and his breast seemed to labor with
a hidden flame. "Ah, vain regrets!" he exclaimed; "cruel fortune!
others triumph, while I endure hopeless misery! Better a thousand
times to lose life, than wear a chain so disgraceful and so
oppressive!"

Angelica by this time had recognized the stranger, and perceived
that it was Sacripant, king of Circassia, one of the worthiest of
her suitors. This prince had followed Angelica from his country,
at the very gates of the day, to France, where he heard with
dismay that she was under the guardianship of the Paladin Orlando,
and that the Emperor had announced his decree to award her as the
prize of valor to that one of his nephews who should best deserve
her.

As Sacripant continued to lament, Angelica, who had always opposed
the hardness of marble to his sighs, thought with herself that
nothing forbade her employing his good offices in this unhappy
crisis. Though firmly resolved never to accept him as a spouse,
she yet felt the necessity of giving him a gleam of hope in reward
for the service she required of him. All at once, like Diana, she
stepped forth from the arbor. "May the gods preserve thee," she
said, "and put far from thee all hard thoughts of me!" Then she
told him all that had befallen her since she parted with him at
her father's court, and how she had availed herself of Orlando's
protection to escape from the beleaguered city. At that moment the
noise of horse and armor was heard as of one approaching; and
Sacripant, furious at the interruption, resumed his helmet,
mounted his horse, and placed his lance in rest. He saw a knight
advancing, with scarf and plume of snowy whiteness. Sacripant
regarded him with angry eyes, and, while he was yet some distance
off, defied him to the combat. The other, not moved by his angry
tone to make reply, put himself on his defence. Their horses,
struck at the same moment with the spur, rushed upon one another
with the impetuosity of a tempest. Their shields were pierced each
with the other's lance, and only the temper of their breastplates
saved their lives. Both the horses recoiled with the violence of
the shock; but the unknown knight's recovered itself at the touch
of the spur; the Saracen king's fell dead, and bore down his
master with him. The white knight, seeing his enemy in this
condition, cared not to renew the combat, but, thinking he had
done enough for glory, pursued his way through the forest, and was
a mile off before Sacripant had got free from his horse.

As a ploughman, stunned by a thunder-clap which has stricken dead
the oxen at his plough, stands motionless, sadly contemplating his
loss, so Sacripant stood confounded and overwhelmed with
mortification at having Angelica a witness of his defeat. He
groaned, he sighed, less from the pain of his bruises than for the
shame of being reduced to such a state before her. The princess
took pity on him, and consoled him as well as she could. "Banish
your regrets, my lord," she said, "this accident has happened
solely in consequence of the feebleness of your horse, which had
more need of rest and food than of such an encounter as this. Nor
can your adversary gain any credit by it, since he has hurried
away, not venturing a second trial." While she thus consoled
Sacripant they perceived a person approach, who seemed a courier,
with bag and horn. As soon as he came up, he accosted Sacripant,
and inquired if he had seen a knight pass that way, bearing a
white shield and with a white plume to his helmet. "I have,
indeed, seen too much of him," said Sacripant, "it is he who has
brought me to the ground; but at least I hope to learn from you
who that knight is." "That I can easily inform you," said the man;
"know then that, if you have been overthrown, you owe your fate to
the high prowess of a lady as beautiful as she is brave. It is the
fair and illustrious Bradamante who has won from you the honors of
victory."

At these words the courier rode on his way, leaving Sacripant more
confounded and mortified than ever. In silence he mounted the
horse of Angelica, taking the lady behind him on the croup, and
rode away in search of a more secure asylum. Hardly had they
ridden two miles when a new sound was heard in the forest, and
they perceived a gallant and powerful horse, which, leaping the
ravines and dashing aside the branches that opposed his passage,
appeared before them, accoutred with a rich harness adorned with
gold.

"If I may believe my eyes, which penetrate with difficulty the
underwood," said Angelica, "that horse that dashes so stoutly
through the bushes is Bayard, and I marvel how he seems to know
the need we have of him, mounted as we are both on one feeble
animal." Sacripant, dismounting from the palfrey, approached the
fiery courser, and attempted to seize his bridle, but the
disdainful animal, turning from him, launched at him a volley of
kicks enough to have shattered a wall of marble. Bayard then
approached Angelica with an air as gentle and loving as a faithful
dog could his master after a long separation. For he remembered
how she had caressed him, and even fed him, in Albracca. She took
his bridle in her left hand, while with her right she patted his
neck. The beautiful animal, gifted with wonderful intelligence,
seemed to submit entirely. Sacripant, seizing the moment to vault
upon him, controlled his curvetings, and Angelica, quitting the
croup of the palfrey, regained her seat.

But, turning his eyes toward a place where was heard a noise of
arms, Sacripant beheld Rinaldo. That hero now loves Angelica more
than his life, and she flies him as the timid crane the falcon.

The fountain of which Angelica had drunk produced such an effect
on the beautiful queen that, with distressed countenance and
trembling voice, she conjured Sacripant not to wait the approach
of Rinaldo, but to join her in flight.

"Am I, then," said Sacripant, "of so little esteem with you that
you doubt my power to defend you? Do you forget the battle of
Albracca, and how, in your defence, I fought single-handed against
Agrican and all his knights?"

Angelica made no reply, uncertain what to do; but already Rinaldo
was too near to be escaped. He advanced menacingly to the
Circassian king, for he recognized his horse.

"Vile thief," he cried, "dismount from that horse, and prevent the
punishment that is your due for daring to rob me of my property.
Leave, also, the princess in my hands; for it would indeed be a
sin to suffer so charming a lady and so gallant a charger to
remain in such keeping."

The king of Circassia, furious at being thus insulted, cried out,
"Thou liest, villain, in giving me the name of thief, which better
belongs to thyself than to me. It is true, the beauty of this lady
and the perfection of this horse are unequalled; come on, then,
and let us try which of us is most worthy to possess them."

At these words the king of Circassia and Rinaldo attacked one
another with all their force, one fighting on foot, the other on
horseback. You need not, however, suppose that the Saracen king
found any advantage in this; for a young page, unused to
horsemanship, could not have failed more completely to manage
Bayard than did this accomplished knight. The faithful animal
loved his master too well to injure him, and refused his aid as
well as his obedience to the hand of Sacripant, who could strike
but ineffectual blows, the horse backing when he wished him to go
forward, and dropping his head and arching his back, throwing out
with his legs, so as almost to shake the knight out of the saddle.
Sacripant, seeing that he could not manage him, watched his
opportunity, rose on his saddle, and leapt lightly to the earth;
then, relieved from the embarrassment of the horse, renewed the
combat on more equal terms. Their skill to thrust and parry were
equal; one rises, the other stoops; with one foot set firm they
turn and wind, to lay on strokes or to dodge them. At last
Rinaldo, throwing himself on the Circassian, dealt him a blow so
terrible that Fusberta, his good sword, cut in two the buckler of
Sacripant, although it was made of bone, and covered with a thick
plate of steel well tempered. The arm of the Saracen was deprived
of its defence, and almost palsied with the stroke. Angelica,
perceiving how victory was likely to incline, and shuddering at
the thought of becoming the prize of Rinaldo, hesitated no longer.
Turning her horse's head, she fled with the utmost speed; and, in
spite of the round pebbles which covered a steep descent, she
plunged into a deep valley, trembling with the fear that Rinaldo
was in pursuit. At the bottom of this valley she encountered an
aged hermit, whose white beard flowed to his middle, and whose
venerable appearance seemed to assure his piety.

This hermit, who appeared shrunk by age and fasting, travelled
slowly, mounted upon a wretched ass. The princess, overcome with
fear, conjured him to save her life; and to conduct her to some
port of the sea, whence she might embark and quit France, never
more to hear the odious name of Rinaldo.

The old hermit was something of a wizard. He comforted Angelica,
and promised to protect her from all peril. Then he opened his
scrip, and took from thence a book, and had read but a single page
when a goblin, obedient to his incantations, appeared, under the
form of a laboring man, and demanded his orders. He received them,
transported himself to the place where the knights still
maintained their conflict, and boldly stepped between the two.

"Tell me, I pray you," he said, "what benefit will accrue to him
who shall get the better in this contest? The object you are
contending for is already disposed of; for the Paladin Orlando,
without effort and without opposition, is now carrying away the
princess Angelica to Paris. You had better pursue them promptly;
for if they reach Paris you will never see her again."

At these words you might have seen those rival warriors
confounded, stupefied, silently agreeing that they were affording
their rival a fair opportunity to triumph over them. Rinaldo,
approaching Bayard, breathes a sigh of shame and rage, and swears
a terrible oath that, if he overtakes Orlando, he will tear his
heart out. Then mounting Bayard and pressing his flanks with his
spurs, he leaves the king of Circassia on foot in the forest.

Let it not appear strange that Rinaldo found Bayard obedient at
last, after having so long prevented any one from even touching
his bridle; for that fine animal had an intelligence almost human;
he had fled from his master only to draw him on the track of
Angelica, and enable him to recover her. He saw when the princess
fled from the battle, and Rinaldo being then engaged in a fight on
foot, Bayard found himself free to follow the traces of Angelica.
Thus he had drawn his master after him, not permitting him to
approach, and had brought him to the sight of the princess. But
Bayard now, deceived like his master with the false intelligence
of the goblin, submits to be mounted and to serve his master as
usual, and Rinaldo, animated with rage, makes him fly toward
Paris, more slowly than his wishes, though the speed of Bayard
outstripped the winds. Full of impatience to encounter Orlando, he
gave but a few hours that night to sleep. Early the next day he
saw before him the great city, under the walls of which the
Emperor Charles had collected the scattered remains of his army.
Foreseeing that he would soon be attacked on all sides, the
Emperor had caused the ancient fortifications to be repaired, and
new ones to be built, surrounded by wide and deep ditches. The
desire to hold the field against the enemy made him seize every
means of procuring new allies. He hoped to receive from England
aid sufficient to enable him to form a new camp, and as soon as
Rinaldo rejoined him he selected him to go as his ambassador into
England, to plead for auxiliaries. Rinaldo was far from pleased
with his commission, but he obeyed the Emperor's commands, without
giving himself time to devote a single day to the object nearest
his heart. He hastened to Calais, and lost not a moment in
embarking for England, ardently desiring a hasty despatch of his
commission, and a speedy return to France.

BRADAMANTE AND ROGERO

Bradamante, the knight of the white plume and shield, whose
sudden appearance and encounter with Sacripant we have already
told, was in quest of Rogero, from whom chance had separated her,
almost at the beginning of their acquaintance. After her encounter
with Sacripant Bradamante pursued her way through the forest, in
hopes of rejoining Rogero, and arrived at last on the brink of a
fair fountain.

This fountain flowed through a broad meadow. Ancient trees
overshadowed it, and travellers, attracted by the sweet murmur of
its waters, stopped there to cool themselves. Bradamante, casting
her eyes on all sides to enjoy the beauties of the spot,
perceived, under the shade of a tree, a knight reclining, who
seemed to be oppressed with the deepest grief

Bradamante accosted him, and asked to be informed of the cause of
his distress. "Alas! my lord," said he, "I lament a young and
charming friend, my affianced wife, who has been torn from me by a
villain,--let me rather call him a demon,--who, on a winged horse,
descended from the air, seized her, and bore her screaming to his
den. I have pursued them over rocks and through ravines till my
horse is no longer able to bear me, and I now wait only for
death." He added that already a vain attempt on his behalf had
been made by two knights, whom chance had brought to the spot.
Their names were Gradasso, king of Sericane, and Rogero, the Moor.
Both had been overcome by the wiles of the enchanter, and were
added to the number of the captives, whom he held in an
impregnable castle, situated on the height of the mountain. At the
mention of Rogero's name Bradamante started with delight, which
was soon changed to an opposite sentiment when she heard that her
lover was a prisoner in the toils of the enchanter. "Sir Knight,"
she said, "do not surrender yourself to despair; this day may be
more happy for you than you think, if you will only lead me to the
castle which enfolds her whom you deplore."

The knight responded, "After having lost all that made life dear
to me I have no motive to avoid the dangers of the enterprise, and
I will do as you request; but I forewarn you of the perils you
will have to encounter. If you fall impute it not to me."

Having thus spoken, they took their way to the castle, but were
overtaken by a messenger from the camp, who had been sent in quest
of Bradamante to summon her back to the army, where her presence
was needed to reassure her disheartened forces, and withstand the
advance of the Moors.

The mournful knight, whose name was Pinabel, thus became aware
that Bradamante was a scion of the house of Clermont, between
which and his own of Mayence there existed an ancient feud. From
this moment the traitor sought only how he might be rid of the
company of Bradamante, from whom he feared no good would come to
him, but rather mortal injury, if his name and lineage became
known to her. For he judged her by his own base model, and,
knowing his ill deserts, he feared to receive his due.

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