Episode 16: Of Valor and Honor, Faith and Death All knights and lords who are in love and damsels, gracious, courteous: Come forward now, take care to hear the high adventures and the wars for /Love/ famed knights of old performed. These works were good and glorious. Orlando though, and Agrican were best, their deeds for Love matchless. Princess Angelica of India 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 emperor himself, had fallen in love with her. Not only was she beautiful, she was powerful, being the only living child of King Galafron of India. Her father, Galafron, had agreed to a marriage between Angelica and the powerful king Agrrican of Tartary. Angelica, however, did *not* agree, and fled to the fortified city of Albraka. There she, with the help of other suitors, hoped to resist king Agrrican's armies. As expected, King Agrrican raised a vast army, not only from Tartary, but from several allied kingdoms as well, their kings fighting along side him. And more, Agrican had acquired for his steed the famous horse Baiardo, once owned by Rinaldo the Paladin, but lost now to this Tartar lord. 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. Less than a dozen knights now remained at Angelica's side. They were all valiant warriors, though, and chief among them was the strongest of all Charlemagne's paladins, Count Orlando himself. He, alone, was worth an army, and he loved Angelica desperately. Orlando led a sortie out against King Agricane's troops. That Tartar king and Count Orlando met with fierce fury on the field. The two bold knights were so well matched, they fought for hours without a victor. Before that duel could conclude, another army charged the field. *These* are King Galafron's men, Angelica's father, and India's king. Albraka, legally, is /his/-- he rides in arms to repossess it. King Agrican asks Orlando, nicely, to let their battle go for now, so he can relieve his woeful troops, who die in heaps before that horde. "Please, cavalier, have courtesy. If you have ever loved a girl, by her alone I conjure you. You see my men are massacred. If I can save them, thanks to you, I won't forget I'm in your debt." A gentleman who is in love may /never/ fail at courtesy, and so, Orlando lets him leave. So great is Agricane's force the Indian army soon is routed. The beaten rabble fled the field, flying, galloping at full speed. King Galafron foams at the moath as he observes his men in flight. In his despair, he spurs his steed, wishing to /win/ this day, or *die*. His daugher, fair Angelica, who watches from the citadel, sees him now in mortal peril. Afraid for her father, as is just, she sends a messenger to seek the Count Orlando and ask his help. And if he hoped for her good will, he should reveal his strength today. Also, he should remember she could see him from her citadel. /If/ he sought love, then he should /labor/; for by his deeds he would be judged. He, as I said, was deep in love - enamored of Angelica, and quickly he obeyed her plea and rode towards King Galafron. Whoever saw Orlando fight would recognize at once that knight. He swung his good sword-blade so fast, that when that steel strikes a man the /wind/ of its passing blows others back. The Indians _were_ in retreat. But then the field completely changed, and every man who'd fled now chased. For now, bold Count Orlando comes, assaulting madly, cruelly, and killed so many enemies he turned the grassy meadow red. Now Agrican rides at that bold Count. King Agricane and Orlando once more resumed their vicious duel, more terrible than any seen. Each one hacks the other's armor. King Agricane can't defend his army, while Orlando fights, because the Count keeps him too busy, he must stay face to face with him; thus Agrican sees his men die. Agrican has a sneaky thought: he'd lure away that brawny Count and murder him upon some path. Then, quickly, he'd rejoin the battle, and it would seem an easy thing to beat the Indians alone. All of /them/, _and_ King Galafron, he valued no more than a button. His purpose set, he breaks away and gallops hard across the plain. The Count, who does not guess his trick, thinks Agricane flees from fear, and follows him, without suspicion, until both reach a shadowed forest. Right in the midst of this flat woodland grew a lush meadow, round a fountain. Agrican halted by this fount, dismounted there to rest, but did not take his helmet off his head, drop his shield, or remove his armor, but waited, till the Count arrived. When Orlando saw him by that spring, he said to him "You ran away! That shows how strong _you_ are are, how /daring!/ How can you bear the great disgrace of fleeing from a _single_ knight? "Perhaps you thought you could escape from death; now look, you were mistaken. To die with /honor/, one /must/ *die*! And if you cling to this sad life, you may - it happens easily - lose life /and/ honor at one time." King Agricane mounted, and then, in a cool voice, he responded: "You surely are the boldest knight I've ever met in all my life, and I shall let you live, for all the strength of arm and courtesy you showed me in the field today. I want to let you live, /provided/ you stay away, and don't annoy me! "This flight of mine was counterfeited -- otherwise, by now, you'd be dead. If you elect to fight, instead, you'll never leave this field alive. But let the sun and heavens see that killing you displeases me." The Count responded graciously, since he felt much sympathy for him. He said "As much as you are bold, so much I grieve, to tell the truth, that you have not the Christian faith that I, Orlando, glory in. When you die, you'll go with the damned. To save your body *and* your soul -- be baptized, and I'll let you go." Agrican watched his face and said "Are you that famous Count Orlando?! I would rather fight with you than be the king of Paradise! But let me give you some advice: Don't talk about the work of gods to me, because you'll preach in vain. Let each /defend/ his, sword in hand." His words done, he draws out his sword and daringly confronts Orlando. Their fierce contention now begins, with cuts and thrusts of bitter force. They fought together, so I swear, from noon until the dark of night, first bold, then bolder, in hard fight. But when the sun had passed the mountain and stars began to light the heavens, The Count addressed King Agrican "What now?" he asked? "The day is gone." The sovereign replied at once: "We'll rest here in the field tonight, and then tomorrow, at firstlight, together we'll resume our fight." On this, the two were in accord. Each tied his horse where he preferred, and they lay on the verdant grass together, in each other's sight, like two men bound by ancient peace. The Count is by the fountain's side, and Agrican lies near the woods, under the cover of a pine. They talked together for a time of worthy and chivalric matters. The Count, who watched the sky, then said, "What we see is the lovely work that was produced by heaven's monarch. The silver moon, the golden stars, the shining sun, the light of day -- God made them for the human race." "I gather," Agricane said, "you want to argue over faith. I have no skill in any science. I didn't want to learn when young: I broke my teacher's head in payment. They couldn't find another one to show me books or how to write. They were all too afraid of me. "And so, I spent my early years in riding, games of arms, and hunts. I don't think that a nobleman should spend his whole day reading books. He should develop the physical force and the speed that a knight requires. Learning is fine for priests and scribes; I know what I have need to know." Orlando answered, "I agree a man's /first/ honors are in arms, but learning does not lessen men-- it adds, like flowers in a field. Not to acknowledge our Creator makes you an ox, a stone, a log. Unschooled, you cannot well conceive the heights of holy majesty." "It's impolite," said Agrican, "To argue. You have the advantage. I told you what /my/ nature is, and I know /you're/ well-read and wise. I won't respond if you go on. If you prefer to sleep, then sleep, but if you want to talk to me, then talk of either love or war. "Upon your honor as a knight, I'm asking you to tell the truth. If you _are_ that Orlando who is so well known throughout the world, then tell me why you've travelled here, and if you've ever been in love: Any knight who despises love lives heartless - and is really dead." "I am that famous Count Orlando who killed Almonte and Troiano. Love made me wander from my home and travel to this foreign land. And, since I'm speaking openly, I'll tell you that my heart is held by beautiful Angelica, the daughter of King Galafron, who hides now in Albraka's keep. "You /fight/ her father in mad war; you take his country and his castles. I have been brought this far by love because that damsel needs my aid. Many times I've been in the saddle for honor or religious faith, but now I fight to win this maiden fair, and I want /nothing/ more." When Agricane understood Orlando loved /Angelica,/ he raged past bounds of reason, although he showed nothing in the dark. He cried, sighed like a crazy fool. His spirit - heart and soul both - flamed Jealousy beat so at his heart he's half alive, half dead, from grief. He told the Count, "Prepare your mind, because as soon as daylight shines the two of us will have to fight till only one remains alive. Now, let me ask you just one thing before we start our final duel. The maiden whom your heart desires -- abandon her. Let her be mine. "While I'm alive, I can't endure another man in love with her. Tomorrow, one of us must be shorn of both his spirit and the lady. No one will know, except this stream, the forest that encircles us, that you renounced her in this place and for this time. Is that too much?" "My oaths," Orlando told the king, "as many as I've made, I've kept, but if I promised what you asked, I would be sure to break my word. My limbs could be cleaved, my eyes lifted, and I could live without a soul, without a heart, but *not* without Angelica." King Agrican burned past belief, unable to endure such speech, and in the midst of that dark night he leaped upon his horse, Baiardo, his look defiant, confident, and screamed a challenge at the Count, saying, "You *must* /renounce/ the damsel! Either forgo, or face a battle!" The Count, by then, was in his saddle, since when the pagan king had moved, he feared the pagan's treachery and quickly clambered on his steed. That done, he answered valiantly, "I'll never, *ever*, give her up. What's more, I would not if I could, so find another way to her!" Like a great storm that stirs the sea, their fearsome duel begins once more. Those cavaliers, beneath the moonlight prod their good chargers with their spurs, and they exchange fierce, ruthless strokes. They are both powerful and bold. With fierce and hard and cruel assaults each strives to make the maiden his. Though greater rage drove Agrican, the Count, more cunning, saved his strength. They'd striven now for five long hours and dawn had risen in the east. Now they begin their fiercest duel. Proud Agrican despairs because Orlando has held out so long. Agrican swings a boundless blow. That desperate stroke sweeps side to side. It chops Orlando's shield like cheese. It wrecks both plates and mail at once, but cannot harm the Count, who's charmed. Although the sword did not cut skin, Orlando has quite lost his wind. That wallop was so ruinous, it numbed his nerves and bruised his bones. He was not overcome by this; rather, he struck with fiercer force. Orlando hits the Tartar's shield and cuts it, and his armor, too, severed his hauberk's plate and mail and wounded him on his left side. That was such an angry swing, that half that shield fell to earth, as his sword broke three of Agrican's ribs. As in the woods the lion *roars*, after the hunter injures it: Fierce Agrican with /greater/ force, furious, swings his sword once more. He hit Orlando's head; the Count had never felt a greater shot. He feels so stunned he cannot tell if he still /has/ his head or /not/. His eyes could see no light at all and ringing echoed in his ears. His charging courser is so scared it carried him around the field, and, really, he'd have tumbled off if he'd stayed in that trance for long, but when he was about to fall, his soul revived, and he stayed on. When he came to, he felt ashamed to see he had been overcome. "How can you go," he said, dismayed, "before Angelica, disgraced? Can't you recall the loving face that sent you out into this battle? One who waits when asked to serve and /then/ serves, /forfeits/ his reward. "I've wasted nearly two full days trying to beat a _single_ knight, and yet I'm still engaged with him- no better off than when I started! If I can't end this in one hour, I'll give up arms and war forever! I'll live in a humble hermit's cell and call me damned if I wear iron!" These last words can't be apprehended- he babbles them, he grinds his teeth, and from his mouth and nose, snorts fire! He hurries straight to Agrican and with both hands he wheels his sword and, with a truly monstrous swing, he sliced the right shoulder of the king. The cruel sword slants across his chest and cracks his stomach plate in two, then slits his armor to his hip: *never* was such destruction seen. From right to left, from side to groin, that king, who was so strong was sliced. His face was white, his eyes grew blind. He's like a man about to die. That king who was so fierce, now cried and kept his eyes towards the heavens. Although his soul and spirit fail, he calls Orlando, his words plain. He told Orlando, "Cavalier, today, on this field, you have won the greatest horse the world has seen, no other charger equals it. I took him from a valiant baron, a prisoner, who's in my camp." He whispers in a low voice, "I... _believe_ in /your/ God, crucified. Knight, at that fountain, baptize me before I lose the power of speech. If I have led an evil life, don't let me lose /God/ as I die. The one who came to save mankind may still receive my /wretched/ soul. That I've sinned much, I _do_ confess; God's mercy, though, is nothing less. "I can't survive much longer. Wise cavalier, lift me from my saddle. Don't let my soul be lost forever. If you should let me die this way, you'll suffer great distress, great pain! Baptize me quickly. I am slain." How sad Orlando is, how sorry. His eyes were filled with tears as he dismounted to the level field. He took the gored king in his arms and set him by the fountain's side, weeping along with the dying king, as he asked for pardon for his deeds. Then he baptized him with clear water. He joined his hands and prayed to God. He did not stay long when he found the body and the face grown cold. He knew, from that, the king was gone. He left him by the fountain's side as he had been, with all his arms, his sword in hand, with his crown on. Then the Count turned to view his horse and he believed he saw... Baiardo! Orlando is not positive the charger really is Bayard-- its furnishings are hiding it, hanging down to its fetlock joints. "I want this mystery revealed," Orlando tells himself, "Is this Baiardo, or a look-a-like? If it's that steed, I *am* surprised!" Orlando has to learn for sure and starts to circle towards the horse, but that beast /knew/ the Count: he came to greet him, and began to neigh. "Talk to me, good horse. Where's Rinaldo? Where is your lord? Don't lie to me!" So spoke Orlando, but the steed could give no answer to his speech. Orlando climbed upon Bayard - he'd often ridden him before - and taking *his* horse by the reins he left the meadowland at once and rode back through the darkened forest. He hears some noise ahead of him, and quickly rides to see what's wrong. Along the road, Orlando sees a cavalier who's sore beset, as three huge giants fight with him. But now, I see I've gone too long, and so for now will end my song. My friends, I have no wish to bore, another time, I'll tell you more.