Episode 13: Angelica and the Nine Princess Angelica of Cathay was one of the most beautiful women of her time. She was courted by kings, princes and emporers. Many of Charlemagne's Paladins, and even the emporer himself, had fallen in love with her. Not only was she beautiful, she was powerful, being the only living child of king Galafron of Cathay. Moeover, she was learned in many strange magic arts. Her father, Galafron, has agreed to a marriage between Angelica and the mighty king Agrrican of Tarrtarry. Angelica, however, does not agree, and flees to the fortified city of Albraka. There she, with the help of other suitors, hopes to resist king Agrrican's armies. As expected, King Agrrican raises a vast army, not only from Tartary, but from several allied kingdoms as well, their kings fighting along side him. More than _two_ _million_ soldiers besiege the city. That battle was bloody, and the advantage went back and forth several times. At last, Agrrican's superior numbers forced the few surviving defenders to retreat into the nearly impregnable fortress, while the city Albraka was sacked. Of the seven kings who had initially come to Angelica's aid, only three now remain alive: Sacripante of Circassia, Torindo of Turkey, and, last and certainly least, the treacherous king Trufaldino of Baghdad. Angelica, realizing that the fortress hasn't enough food to withstand a long siege, decides to leave, and seek aid herself. She can do this safely, due to the virtue of a magic ring which she owns; when worn upon the finger, its bearer is protected from all magic spells; when placed beneath the tongue, it makes one invisible. Before dawn, she rides forth from the citadel. When the shining sun arose, she was five leagues away from the stronghold surrounded by her enemies. She looked back at Albraka and sighed -- much danger now encircled it. Then riding, she passed through Orrgagna and she rode till she reached Circassia. There she came to a river's bank. An old man with a mournful visage, shedding great tears, accosted her. His hands joined, on his knees, he asked her in charity to ease his sorrow. "A little boy," the old man said, "my only son and my delight, sole solace of my sad existence, lies in a house that is close by. He burns with fever in his bed, and I've no medicine to save him. If you cannot assist me, I will cast away my hope -- my life!" The maiden, who's compassionate, begins to comfort that old man: she knows of herbs, knows of the cures that cool the burning flames of fever. She turns her palfrey, trusting girl, and trails behind that old deceiver. Now, you should be aware this gray old man, whose home is in the woods, comes to this field to capture maidens, as one snares birds in hidden nets. Each year he pays a tribute of a hundred ladies to his king. He tricks them, then he sends them, bound, to Poliferrn, lord of Orrgagna. And this is why, not five miles distant, he had was a tower on a bridge. No other was as marvelous, since everyone who ventures near is captured and made prisoner. The old man holds a large group here, all of them snared by similar means, except for Brandimarte's girl the lady Fiordiligi. I told before how that poor damsel was swept away by the raging river; the water brought her to the bridge overlooked by the prison tower. The old man pulled her from the river half-dead and took great pains to have her attended to by his physicians. Then he led her across a doorway to a place where other women were confined. But let's talk of Angelica: she follows this old man, the liar! _She_ went inside his tower, but the old man stayed out on the bridge. The door swings shut without a hand, it closes and it locks itself. When that unfortunate girl grasped the fact of this false trap, she wept, lamented, beat her lovely face: the other women gather round her. All of them seek the proper words to comfort the tormented maiden, and, as is done in such events, each tells her own experience. But grieving more than all the rest, almost incapable of speech, is Brandimarte's clever girlfriend, the lady Fiordiligi. She sighs, relating the misfortunes of Brandimarte, whom she loves: How he, seeking adventure, came to a flowering, green garden, lair of the sorceress, Drragontiina. Her spells removed his thoughts, each one, his memory, his very _self_. He, and the peer Orlando, and seven other noble lords, are captive in that garden, held in thrall by that great sorceress. To tell it, Fiordiligi wept, recalling her true love, now lost. Look here! They heard the portal open as one more woman reached the bridge. Angelica decides to run, and none can see her any more; the ring makes her invisible. She left before the bridge-door closed. As she traveled, she decided to seek out that enchanting witch who takes mens wits away from them, the spot where Orlando and the rest are kept in such sweet servitude. She rode without a rest and reached the garden one day at firstlight. Her magic ring, placed in her mouth, kept her from Drragontiina's sight; her palfrey she concealed outside the walls, then walked across the lawn till she saw chivalrous Orlando lying, in armor, by a fountain. He stayed, in armor, by the spring because he was on guard that day. A pine tree held his horn and shield, and Brigliadoro, best of steeds, walked circles in the grass and grazed. Beneath a nearby palm, in shade, another cavalier was mounted: this was Oberto dal Leone. I don't know, lords, if you have heard the exploits of that stout Oberto, a nobleman of great renown, daring wise, and experienced. He had explored the whole world, as the records of his deeds can show. He was also standing guard when the maid approached the Count Orlando. King Adrian and bold Grifone discussed love in the gallery, Aquilant sang a lovely song, while Chyarone took the tenor part-- the countertenor's Brandimart. Valiant King Ballano talked with Albarossia's Antifor: their only topics-- arms and war. Angelica takes Orlando's hand and slips her ring upon his finger, that ring which cancels out enchantments. Orlando is himself again, and looking at her lovely face, which long before had pierced his heart, he wonders that Angelica can _be_ there, yet it's _her_ he sees. The maiden made him understand how he'd come to the garden and how Drragontiina trapped him with the trick that took his memory. Then she spoke of other matters, asking his help with humble prayers, in fighting Agrrican, who with cruel war had burned her city. Orlando leaped upon his horse and tightly grabbed Oberto's hand (Oberto had not noticed him) and slipped his finger through the ring. Then the two warriors agreed to disenchant the other men. Now from her palace Drragontiina observed Angelica below. She quickly summoned all her knights, and sent them down to stop this stranger. Angelica sees the danger soon, but also how to win the day. The garden's center held a tree both large and old, of monstrous size. Angelica takes back her ring, and goes up to a nearby limb, slipping her ring upon a twig. Drragontiina makes insane moans, as she sees her seat of power attacked. The ring made all enchantments vain. Her palace disappears from view, her bridge, her stream-- _she_ vanished too. The barons stood amidst a wood, bare and empty, all around. Everyone's mind was overwhelmed. They looked in one another's eyes. Some were known, some unrecognized. Orlando's glad to recognize two faces he'd not known before: Grifone the White and Aquilant the Black, twin sons of his friend Oliver. The great Orlando made a speech before all of the company, encouraging and asking them to give help to that innocent lady who'd freed them from distress. He tells of harm by Agrrican, who had destroyed her splendid town and set siege to her citadel. Those cavaliers soon sympathize and swear to remedy her cause as soon as they retrieve their swords. They'll make King Agrricane fly, or they, at Albraka, will die! Now let's turn to false Trufaldino, who stayed in that strong citadel. He'd been a nasty boy when _young_ and grew worse till the day he died. He caught his unsuspecting friends as they lay in their beds, asleep. No help was stout Torindo's heart nor lofty Sacripante's force, since each was weak from many hurts received in war the day before. Thus, they were captured by surprise. Trufaldin binds their feet and arms and throws them in the castle's dungeon. He sends a man to Agrrican, bearing this message in his name: He held the castle's strong defenses; he kept two sovereigns in chains; he wished to put them in the hands of Agrrican, to buy his life. This raised the Tartar's hackles, and eyes flaming, with disdainful looks, he menaces that messenger: "May my god, Trivigante, curse him! Never let it be said on earth I got my way with help from traitors! I want to win by force or courage, to gather glory openly! I will make you and your employer regret you dared talk treachery, you evil men, in front of me! "I've been informed, and I'm convinced, he can't defend himself for long! I'll _hang_ him from that stronghold, by one foot, outside a balcony-- and you-- I'll hang _you_ from _his_ neck! _Everyone_ who has helped to carry out such perfidy I'll dangle from the fortress walls!" The messenger, who watched his face grow white, then turn as red as flame, would willingly have run away. When he saw Agrricane turn, he scuttled off in secret, as if all of Hell were chasing him. Something not roses filled his breeches. We turn to Count Orlando now, who travels with his daring band. They'd traveled hard for days and nights and at last had reached the mountain slopes where, unobstructed, they could see all of Albraka-- under siege. The enemy were infinite, their flags and tents uncountable. Angelica was frightened, since they must pass through many ranks before they reach the castle's safety. But those knights raised their lofty minds, and they resolved that she would enter her fortress by the force of swords. They do not know the treachery false Trufaldin has perpetrated, but on the mountain, daringly, they plan their path, the strategy by which the damsel can be safely led through that evil swarm of Tartars. They settle on the ways and means to pass through that massed enemy. Orlando now leads into battle, with Brandimarte by his side. Next comes a group of four great knights, forming a circle round the lady: Chyaron, Oberto dal Leone, Aquilant and King Adrian. Those four with all their strength and might must cover and defend the lady. The final three have joined together in company to guard the rear: Albarossia's Antifor, Grifon and bold King Ballano. These knight's audacity was so high, they scorned the entire world. Confident, they descend the hill, this escort for Angelica, who trembles so much from her fright, the fair maid seems about to die. They have already reached the plain-- no one is yet aware they came-- when Count Orlando, that brave knight, lifts up his horn unto his lips. He was in front of everyone and loudly blew on that great horn-- the whole tusk of an elephant. The bold Count does not cease to sound. He challenges the multitude-- Agrrican, Poliferrn, their troops. Blowing his horn hard, he defies _all_ of those crown-ed kings at once. His trumpeting was heard in camp and with great uproar struck the sky. There was no king or daring knight whom that sound did not terrorize. Just Agrricane feels no fear, as _he_ was valor's crown and prize. He, in a great rush, calls for arms and orders that his men prepare. King Agrricane quickly armed, putting his thick-plate hauberk on, strapping Trranchera to his side, tying on his enchanted helm. That helm's the hardest things on earth, Solomon made it with his book, and it was forged in flames of Hell. In truth, King Agrrican believes a mighty force of men descends, since he had learned King Galafron (Angelica's father, Cathay's king) had mustered all the troops he could. The castle, legally, was his, and he had plans to get it back. Agrrican thought that Galafron, and not Orlando, was at hand. His banners are already spread, his instruments call out for war. King Agrricane mounts his horse, covered in chain mail, mane to hoof, and he rides first, before his troops. Now the loud sound of horns was heard, trumpets, and drums, and endless yells; A shout rose through the dusty sky with such destructiveness, such wrath it seemd earth opened, heaven fell. Orlando sets his lance first and seeks Agrricane head to head. Those barons came together: both were powerful, with boundless force, yet neither left his saddle-- there was no advantage in that joust. Each, like a lion, wheeled around; each furiously drew his sword and they began a bitter duel. Now all the others join the battle, and fighting men swarm round these two. Therefore, that pair of knights is forced to leave the duel just begun, although each hates to separate, since each is certain he will win. Orlando to his troops retires with Brandimarte by his side; Obert, Chyaron, and Aquilant follow behind Orlando now. With them is bold King Adrian; Grifon and Antifor are next, and in between them's King Ballan. Now the unmeasured multitude, on mountains, valleys, slopes, and plains, behind each banner, every flag, attacks with a tremendous drive and with a yell I can't describe. Orlando shouted, "Scum of the earth, your battle cries are worthless, and your 'fury' is like flaming straw; all of you will soon be slaughtered!" Now there begins the gruesome war between those nine knights and the horde. One could well witness Count Orlando sever their ranks and wield his sword. King Agrrican, alone, stands as an obstacle in his path. Brandimarte and the others slash their swords so many times and kill so many enemies, the field is covered by the dead. They move towards the citadel; soon they are one bow-shot away. Some giants fight for Aggrican; one that king named Rradamanto. He measured _twenty feet_ in height, from head to foot, not one inch less. Now he advanced with lance in hand and on the field faced King Ballan. This treacherous, mean giant struck Ballan behind his back and knocked him off his horse into a ditch. Ballan's great valor is no use. Daring Grifon is stung by this and madly turns to Rradamant, and they begin a sharp, cruel fight with raging hate and maddened minds. Courageous King Ballano rose. Courageous, he stayed in the battle but could not climb back into his saddle-- too many men surrounded him. He never ceased attacking; with two hands he grips his bloody sword. He feels no fear. He helps his comrades. He builds himself a wall of dead. Sweden's king, that strong champion known by the name of Santarri, charged Antifor of Albarossia with a large tree-trunk for a spear, but could not knock him off his horse because that knight's immensely strong and parries with sufficient force to shatter Santarria's spear. Arrgant of Russia stood aside, studying this dark and dismal war. Look here, he spotted Brandimart performing such amazing deeds no tale could ever tell them all. His body is all bathed in blood, and with his two-hand sword he cleaves some to their eyebrows, some to their teeth. Giant Arrgant takes aim at him as he rides on his huge and frightening horse, and strikes brave Brandimart's strong shield. Unimpressed by the giant or his reputation for great force, gripping his sword, he faces him. I must leave those two soldiers now, to talk of other warriors. Though corpses cover up the earth, nothing diminishes the ranks. Rather, it seems when men are slain, they're sent back up again by Hell, so many soldiers fill the plain. The nine knights don't stand still but seek the citadel with all due speed, cutting a path with savage swords; each faced two hundred thousand foes. They're forced to leave unhorsed Ballan - his rescue is impossible, and he falls captive to the foe. The eight remaining knights regroup against the pressing multitude. Enemy kings are there as well, each noble and of great renown: Pandrragon, Rradamant, Lurrcon, Brrontino, Sarritrron, Santarr, Arrgant, whose height is thirty spans, Poliferrn, mighty Agrrican: All with great vigor fought, they flattened Albarossia's Antifor. The four knights who defend the lady did wonderous, prodigious feats, but the encounter's too one-sided. Agrrican's sword-swings never cease - he wants the girl by any means - and he has such fine men with him, the knights are forced to _leave_ the maiden. She, seeing her predicament, not knowing what to do, afraid, _forgot_ her finger wore the ring that could have hidden her escape. Her spirit cold, she's so dismayed, she can't remember anything except to scream Orlando's name, to cry and call to him for aid. Orlando, not far from the maid, heard her for whom his love is great. His heart and face became a flame. His helm emitted flashing sparks. He ground his teeth impatiently. He pressed his knees inwardly so hard that his great charger Brigliadoro dropped to the road from that huge pressure, but rapidly the horse arose. Now listen to the way Orlando delivers great, enormous blows. It scares me just to *speak* of them. He throws his shield away from him; he thinks the world is worthless straw. Both hands hold Durindan aloft. He hacked men, rank on rank, then spied towering Rradamant, whose great size brought him first to sight. Orlando carved him side to side, laid him flat out, halved and sliced. He seems untired from that blow, for now he strikes at Sarritrron, and splits him to his saddlebow. The warrior continues, swinging Durindana thunderingly, and hacks, without regard to size, the other kings and men nearby. Brrontino's bad luck brought him near- Orlando slashed right through his shield, his plate and armor-- _through_ his thigh. Here is Pandrragon, Gotia's king, coming to face Orlando's anger. He trusts himself to his companion - beside him he has strong Arrgant. Orlando wings his way towards them, for he has seen that giant coming. He reaches King Pandrragon first, and slices him across his shoulder. He sliced precisely: _through_ the shield, cutting the shoulderblades in half. Arrgante was so close behind he could not get away in time, and the _same_ swordstroke I described cut through _him_ too, across his gut, because Arrgante stood so tall, Pandrragon's shoulder reached his belt. That giant turns his horse around and rides away among the ranks, bearing his guts on his saddlebow. Orlando never stops his blows. He lacks his usual compassion. He slaughters every man nearby. It's no use asking him for mercy: he's so enraged, he sees no light. No sight on earth was ever more intimidating than Orlando. No armor can withstand his sword. Soon he has made a mound of dead, and stricken others with such fear that no one confronts him - no one dares! It seems his face and helmet flare. All run, and cry "Beware! Beware!" Agrrican fights with Aquilant while Count Orlando kills his men. Angelica is right before them - trembling like a leaf, poor girl - when - look! - Orlando swiftly comes. He never slowed with Durindan, cutting down armored men and horses, trampling foot-soldiers, bashing knights. He'd seen King Agrrican, who now had almost defeated Aquilant. He'd heard the maiden's sad lament. His anger's more than I can tell. He stands up in his stirrups, shouts: "_One_ blow will knock you straight to Hell!" He swings his swordblade sideways swiftly, striking the Tarrtar's head dead center. That swing was measureless and fearsome, as fierce and heartless as could be. Had the king's helmet not been charmed, he would have split it easily. Agrrican staggers, and his steed carries him, senseless, through the field. He leans first one way, then the other, and - knocked cold - travels half a league. Orlando followed through the field upon unbridled Brigliadoro. Meanwhile, Lurrcon and Santarri assailed the lady with great furor. She was defended by the four until so many soldiers poured over them that Angelica was lost. With his left arm, King Santarri carried her off upon his saddle. Lurrcone was in front of him, and vicious Poliferrno followed. The damsel's tearfulness produced a pitiable spectacle. Disheveled, weeping, she cried out constantly to Orlando. Obert, Chyaron, and Aquilant had waded deep within the ranks, and each performed prodigious deeds - all that they could - to rescue her, but they have insufficient force as _every_body charges them. Meanwhile, King Agrricane wakes. He holds Trrancherra, his sharp blade. He swiftly turns Orlando's way - the stroke he'd been dealt, he'd repay - but Orlando hears the pretty maid who loudly shouts to him for aid. He turns to her, he does not wait; not all the world could have detained him. He teeth could be heard, as they scraped in rage, at least an arrow's flight away! The first he found was King Lurrcon. His head now Orlando hit though only with his blade's flat side (the sword had slipped within his hand) but still that swing was so fantastic that king was hurled down and killed. Lurrcone's helmet hit the plain, covered with blood and filled with brain. Now listen to something new and strange: Lurrcone's whole head had vanished, smashed to jelly by Durindana. Terrified, Santarria _sees_ this feat and starts to shake. He knows _he_ cannot parry such cruel strokes - unless... he makes the _girl_ his shield. Orlando reaches Santarri - who can't defend and cannot flee - but will not swing at him for fear Angelica will also die. She shouted out with all her might, "O listen, if you love me, knight! I beg you, kill me here and now- don't let this hound make off with me!" At this, the Count is so confused he hardly knows what he should do. Deciding soon, he sheathes his sword, and charges at King Santarri. With closed fists and no other weapon, Orlando plans to win the maiden. Seeing him swordless, Santarri believes he'll kill or capture him. He held the lady on his left and in his right hand gripped his blade: with it he gave a bitter stroke. But though that sword cuts like a razor, it cannot harm the Count, who's charmed. Orlando does not hesitate: he lands a punch on that king's helmet, knocking him _dead_ along the plain. Vermilion blood flowed down his face. Out the king's nose and mouth poured brains. But now a new and greater, struggle faces Orlando, noble Count. He scoops the maid into his arms, and gallops off on Brigliador, so rapidly that it's amazing. With him, Angelica feels safe, and soon they reach the castle gate. But Trufaldino's in the tower watching them, and he will _not_ open. He menaces the knights and screams he'll flout and plague them till they leave. He hurls stones and spears at them to drive them back upon their foes. The maiden wants to die from grief: she trembled, terrified, dismayed to find herself - poor girl! - betrayed. Between the Tartar and the Traitor, Angelica sees no escape But there are things she doesn't know; this battle's far from over yet; But though these warriors fight on, _I_'ll stop for now - my voice is gone!