Orlando in Love, Episode 20:  Orlando and the Treasure Fairy

The Count Orlando, deep in love,
 has wandered far into the East.
He seeks to aid Angelica,
 the lovely maid who holds his heart.
She greatly now requires his help,
 for she is under seige
  within her fortress city of Albraka.

Orlando'd been drawn far from that siege
 to chase a fleeing enemy
That enemy's now slain,
 and so the Count seeks to return again.

While he was riding tow'rds Albraka,
 he came upon three giants, who were carrying off a maiden fair.
Orlando drew his sword at once,
 and made quick work of all three giants.
Their size might seem a great advantage,
 but courage is not sold by the yard.

The lady, Leodilla named,
 tells her story to Orlando.
How she and her lover, the knight Ordauro,
 were riding through these woods,
 when they were separated by cruel Fate,
 and she fell captive to those giants.

Her story took some time to tell,
 and as she finished, dark night fell.
Orlando dismounted from his horse,
 and prepared to make camp for the night.

She wondered if the Count Orlando would try to /ravish/ her
 as the two of them were quite alone.
She thought... perhaps she'd /not/ resist!

But she can wonder all she wants:
 Orlando has no taste for this.
Wise Turpin writes
 that Count Orlando was chaste, a /virgin/, his life long.
You may believe as pleases you,
 since Turpin tells us /many/ things.

Orlando stretched upon the grass
 and did not move until firstlight;
Fast asleep, he snored all night.

The damsel did not rest at all but stayed awake
 in disbelief that such a valiant cavalier
 could be so hard of heart
 that he took no delight in lovemaking.
She found Orlando a disappointment;
In the clear light of the morning,
 she mounted his steed, disconsolate.




If she had known where she could go
 she would have willingly gone off,
 but she was lost, as I have said,
 so she stayed, quiet and depressed.

Orlando asked her why she's sad.
She answered him,
"I haven't slept.                                    (L)
 Your snoring  kept me up all night.
 Besides that, I h've got this... /itch/..."


She had much more to say than this,
 but, then, a maid appeared before them,
 emerging from a green grove on a palfrey draped in silk:
She bore a book, and on her back, a horn.
The horn was white and opulent,
 wonderfully wrought -- perhaps *too* rich.
Its center and its ends inlaid with shining gold and colored glaze,
 decked with so many precious jewels, its worth was vast beyond compare.

A maid, as I said, carried it;
 most beautiful, and gracious, too.
She reached them, knelt before Orlando,
 and in a courteous, clear voice,  she said,

"This morning, cavalier,                             (R)
  you've found adventure far.beyond what.all the.earth and seas contain.
 But you must have a fearless heart,
  fit for a *perfect* knight,
  which your appearance indicates you /are/.

"This book will tell you what to do,                       (R)
  but I must tell you where and how:
 First, you must sound this splendid horn,
  then -- at once -- open up this book
  and read what action you must take  against whatever may appear:
 At the first sound of this horn,
  some horrible, fierce monster comes.

"The book will make clear, as I said,                          (R)
  exactly what you have to do.
 Don't plan on having leisure,
  for you /will/ be forced to use your sword.

"When you have overcome that monster,                          (R)
  don't hesitate a minute,
  or you'll be deprived of liberty;
 You must blow the horn again.

"You will see something else appear  at /that/ sound,      (R)
  something dangerous.
 Then open, like a valiant knight,  the book,
  and follow its advice.
 If in your soul there's any *fear*, however,
  don't try this adventure:
 A bold beginning and poor finish
  have spelled defeat for countless men.


"And here is why I tell you this:                       (R)
 This horn was made by magic spells,
  and if a knight is so depraved
  that after sounding, he's afraid,
  he'll spend his life a prisoner:
 He'll.be.sent to Morgana's Lake.
 If you can't finish, then don't start.

"*Three* times you have to sound this horn.             (R)
 The first two blasts will bring great tests
  and measureless fatigue and pain,
  since each time you'll be forced to fight.
 But sound the third and final time
  and you will need no sword or mail,
  and /such adventure/ will appear that
  if you live a *hundred* years,
  you'll be a /happy/ man for *life*."

After she'd told Orlando all about this marvelous adventure,
 he burned at heart to see it through.
He did not think or seek advice
 but willingly stretched out his hand.
He quickly took the book and horn and,
 better to prepare for war,
 set Leodilla down from his horse.

He pressed the horn to.his.lips  for /some/ time,    @
 proficient in that art,
 and made a sound that seemed like *thunder*
 and could be heard a /great way/ off.
When he ceased his first blast, *behold*,
 a /giant boulder/ *split* /in half/:         @
The rock, a hundred yards off,
 broke open with a *tremendous* crash.

After that boulder split in two,
 a pair of *bulls* came rumbling forth,
 unnatural and awful brutes,
 whose looks were terrifying, cruel.
Their horns were iron.
Their hue was strange,  because they seemed
 now black, now green,  now red, now yellow, shimmering.

Orlando quickly searched the book
 and found the writing told him this:
"Cavalier, know that you will lose                      (R)
  if you attempt to /kill/ those bulls,
  since you'll do *nothing* with your sword.
 You must, to finish this adventure,  /capture/ them,
  and despite the pain,  tie them up with a single chain.

"After they 've been yoked,                            (R)
  you must go where you saw the boulder split
  and /plow the field/ surrounding it.
 Do all this when you've sounded once.
 The second time, look here again.
 You will be shown the way and means
  to find fame in this quest, or death.
 Sir knight, away! Away! Have courage!"

Orlando read the book no more
  but headed for the fractured rock,
 nor could he have delayed for long
  because the bulls ran /roaring/ forth.
He had descended from his horse
 and hunted them with steady steps.

The first lowered its head;                @
It *charged* -- and hit Orlando very hard.
It heaved him more than eight yards high,
 and he came down with a heavy thump.

The second, with its horns of iron,
 broke.through his plate and chain-mail hauberk
 and tossed him in the sky once more,
 making his flesh and bones feel sore,
But truly, neither wounded him,
 because Orlando's skin was charmed.

Don't ask now if he was /enraged/:
 the human voice could *never* say.
With both feet firmly on the plain,
 he put his great strength on display,
 delivering audacious swings
 and making Durindana sing:
On their horns, on their hairy backs,
 Orlando -- furious -- attacks.

The sword he wielded might have been  a stick;
He could not cut the skin 
 of bulls whose bodies had been charmed  so that no sword could do them harm.

Although the Count was strong and mean,
 they tossed him so much, here and there,
 so mauled him with their iron horns,
 that he could hardly draw in air.

Yet he, one fierce beyond belief,
 transforms his grief to bitter vengeance,
 fights steadily, with confidence,
 and quickly smashes both those bulls;
Orlando batters them so hard
 they often crumble to the plain.
Despite their thick and callous hides,
 they bellow many times from pain;

Those bulls begin to /back away/,
 holding their heads low in defense,
But when Orlando followed them,
  their fighting spirit burned again,
 and so, three times they halted
  and three times to battle they returned.

At last Orlando, to end the fight,
 gripped one of them by the horn.
That beast raged and loudly roared  and made *amazing* /leaps/ and /jumps/,
 but still it failed to shake the Count.



He'd taken off his horse's bridle,
 tucking it underneath his belt:
The bridle's reins were chains,
 and now  he reached for them and bound the bull.    @

While.Orlando leads the beast around,
 holding the bull's horn all the time,
 the other one, stung by great anger,
 circles him, striking ceaselessly.

With immense force,
 Orlando pulls  the first bull to a marble pillar,
 the tomb of an old and unknown king.                        {Bavardo}
He'd bound the first bull with his bridle,
 and now tied the second one as well,
He pounded them so viciously
 after he'd dragged them to the tomb,
 that he *tamed* those defiant beasts.

At once the world's best warrior  harnessed those bulls before his /sword/,
 its handle back, its sharp point forward.
And then Orlando plows the earth  as plowmen do,
 driving the bulls,  despite their fierceness, down straight furrows.
A finer job was never done.
Durindan seems a razor
 as its blade cuts through earth, roots, /and stones/.

Orlando celebrated
 when  he'd plowed the field within the boundaries;
He thanked God's righteous holiness
 for his success in this great test.
He then released the bulls,
 who roared  off like.a.storm and disappeared,  bellowing,
 as he and the ladies  lost sight of them beyond a mountain.

Although Orlando was quite weary
  from suffering that hard encounter,
 each hour to him seemed like a year
  till he could finish this adventure.
He remains confident he can't  be overcome by force or tricks,
 and so he does not rest
 but lifts  the splendid horn and blows on it.

The maiden who had brought the horn
 had earlier dismounted from  her palfrey in a field of flowers
 and made a garland for her hair.
Now, as Orlando's blast diminished,
 that meadow shook on every side,
 and next to them a little hill *erupted*!
  and great flames shot up!

Orlando stood there silently,
 waiting to see what would appear.
Look!  From the hill there flew a *dragon*,
 so /terrible/ I can't describe it.





The girl who'd brought the.horn stopped  Leodilla,
 who was set to flee,  saying
"Stay by me.  Do not worry.                             (R)
 Only the cavalier must fear.
 This task does not belong to /us/,
  although that baron /may/ be slain."

The other said, "Well, serves him right.                (L)
 No one is worse in all the world."
Everyone listen to me now:
The Count's example plainly proves
 *no* woman shows you gratitude,
 if you don't 'water her green flower'!


I turn attention to the dragon.
No larger one was ever seen.
Its scales were shining gold and green,
 its wings, of variegated colors;
The beast had three tongues and sharp teeth
 and raised a din as its tail beat.
It blew fire in a constant stream  of bright flame
 from its mouth /and ears/.

After the serpent had emerged,
 Orlando read from the book again,
"In all the world, on hills and plains,                 (R)
  no man has suffered such great pains as you will suffer, baron bold,
  although, perhaps, you /may/ survive
  *if* you /remember/ what I say.

"This battle must be quickly fought                     (R)
  because the serpent's poisonous  and breath's such noxious smoke and flame
  that you'll be overcome, you'll faint;
 But if you cut its head away,
  you'll stop its heat and poison fumes.

"Take its head in your hands -- be brave!               (R)
 Open it and remove each tooth.
 Take out the teeth and sow them  in the earth that you have plowed
  and then  you'll see a miracle occur.
 Armed men will grow where you have sown,
  strong men, and brave, as you will learn.

"Now go:                                                (R)
 If you survive /this/ time  and bring back honor from this war,
  you'll be the *flower* of the world."
It seems the book says nothing more,
  and so Orlando closes it,
 since now, the serpent *charges* him  with open wings,
  with great commotion,
  spewing a steady jet of flame.








Orlando waited, bravely, boldly,
 as the amazing dragon opened  its mouth and tried to eat him whole,
But, as God willed, its mouth caught on  his shield, *incinerating* it,
 since it was made of wood and flamed  immediately and burned away.

His helmet then, his arms and mail
 became a fiery, smoking mass.
His surcoat was burnt off;
Hot breath  consumed Orlando's splendid crest.

The Count had never fought a duel  in which he'd had to battle flames.
His strength and martial skills don't help:
The fire and dense smoke penetrate  his helmet,
 and they blind his eyes.
He hardly sees the sword he holds.

Though he *has* /almost/ lost his sight,
 he swings his blade from side to side,     @
 constantly flailing back and forth
  in that most shadowy, dark duel,
At last he hit its neck.
His blade  drew blood; He cut its head away.

Orlando then took up the head --
He sees it is an awful thing,
 of red and gold and green and brown --
He wrenched its teeth out, one by one.      @
Orlando took his helmet off,
  putting the dragon's teeth inside,
 and went to where he'd plowed the field,
 just as the book instructed him.

By the tomb of that unknown king,
 he scattered that envenomed seed.          @
Bishop Turpin, who never lies,
 says feathers soon begin to rise.
I mean the painted plumes of /crests/
 were slowly growing from the ground,
 next helmets, and then soldier's chests,
 then their whole bodies were unbound.

Foot soldiers first, then cavaliers  spring up;
They shout "war, War, WAR, *WAR*!"
With horns and standards, in a tempest,
 they aimed their lances at Orlando.

Seeing this wondrous thing, Orlando  said to himself,
"I have to reap  this sinful seed with Durindana,        (R)
  and if I'm hurt, the fault is mine:
 Though human beings like to blame  other men for their own mistakes,
  a man should weep with *double* grief  who,
  having sown bad seed, reaps evil."

So the Count spoke; he was not slow:
 he had no time to waste.
Orlando laces on his helm.
He had no shield, he had no lance.
From the ground, he leaps to his steed
 and spurs that horse with arrogance  against the charging soldiers
 doomed  to die this day, although just born.

What need is there for me
 to tell  each blow and every single swing,
 since /Durindana/ *overwhelms*  weapons and fencing skill and armor?
Therefore, I'll end it quickly:
Count Orlando slaughtered them *all* that day,
 and where armor, steeds, and corpses  fell upon the field,
  they /sank back in/.

After Orlando looked around
 and saw the soldiers dead and gone
  who'd spent so little time alive,
  all buried where they had been born,
 without delay he lifts the horn
  to give the third and final sound.

Orlando blew that handsome horn  so forcibly
 he soon was worn,
...But nothing happens,... daylight fails,
 and he's afraid he's been deceived,
 when a completely white young /hound/
  came to the flowering field and bayed.

The Count looks at the hound and says,
"Is this supposed to make me pleased?   [scornfully]       (R)
 Is this my recompense,
  the *prize*  the damsel promised would be mine
  if I could blow the horn three times?"

No sooner was that said than he  turned elsewhere,
 most disdainfully.
Orlando hurled the horn away
 and made to gallop off at once;
But.the damsel of.the.horn cried out:

"Wait, O courageous baron, wait!                           (C)
 No emperor on earth or king
  has better fortune than this brings.
 Hear what I say.
 I shall explain  the wondrous purpose of this hound.

"An island, not too far away,                              (L)
  is named for treasure, which it has.
 Morgana is a fairy there,
  and she gives different people /gold/:
 All that's dispersed throughout the world
  must be requested first from her.

"She buries it inside high mountains,                      (L)
  where it is difficult to find,
  or lodges it in streams and fountains.
 In India, her gold is mined  by ants!
 and elswhere, there are rivers  stocked with fish that /feed/ on *gold*.







"The beautiful Morgana rules  *all* gold /as well as silver ore/   (L)
  and that hound has been *sent* by her.
 It came into this countryside
  to make you *happy* /all/ your life,
  since you have blown the horn three times.

"No other knight -- none in the *world* --                 (L)
  has ever made the *second* blast,
  though this adventure has been tried  by many --
   all of whom have died.
 Now put aside your dreary thoughts,  bold baron
 Listen to me talk,  
  so you will understand in full
  why the hound comes at this horn's call.

"Morgana, whom I told you of,                              (L)
  the queen of all that's beautiful,
  has a *stag* she sends through the world,
  whose hide is white, whose horns are *gold*.
 It's fashioned by a magic spell  never to stay in one place long,
  but to run wondrously and roam  the earth --
   and it cannot be caught.

"The stag cannot be caught without  the hound's assistance,   (L)
  for./she/ knows  how.to.discover.it and how .to.hunt.it --
 As she.runs she.howls;
 You have to follow her by ear,
  since she goes like an arrow -- fast.
 The hound will trace the stag's tracks for  six days
  and on the seventh rest.

"The seventh day,                                             (L)
  you'll reach a pool  where that elusive stag will plunge;
 There, without harm, it can be caught,
  bringing the hunter wondrous fortune:
 The golden antlers on its head molt  six times.a.day,
  and each divides  to thirty points,
  and every horn, with branches, weighs one hundred pounds.

"You will accumulate such wealth                              (L)
  when you have caught that magic stag,
  that you will *always* be content,
  if /riches/ make a happy man.
 Perhaps, too, you will gain the love  of that fay,
  whom I've told you of:
 I mean Morgana, fair of face,
  prettier than the sun at noon."

Orlando listened with a smile
 but barely let her have her say  because --
  he did not *want* the wealth  the maiden tried to offer him.
He answered, 
"Lady, I don't care  that I have run the risk of death,        (R)
  since weariness and perils are
   what feed the fame of cavaliers.





"But to win /gold/ or /silver/,                                   (R)
  I would *never* have unsheathed my sword,
  since those that set their minds on wealth
   are working on an /endless/ labor.
 They're /less/ content the *more* they get --
 They never can be satisfied.

"Those who have much want only more,                             (R)
  and there's /no end/ to such a road.
 That way is endless, *infinite*,
  barren of honor and delight.
 One struggles if one travels it
  but never reaches where one wants.

"I would prefer to wander, lost,                              (R)
  rather than tread *that* path for life.
 So you will plainly understand:
  I /mean/ I will *not* hunt the stag.
 Take your horn,
  which I leave for others  who /want/ to venture after riches.

"I am not now and never was  ungracious or discourteous,      (R)
  and a man is vile and barbarous
  unless he loves his *lady* more  than /his.own heart/.
 I know *mine* waits:
 I think I hear her call my name.

"(I left Angelica, I know,                                     (C)
   in her citadel, besieged by war.
  How can I ever find out what  the outcome of that battle was?
  I left the fighting and the field
   to chase an enemy that day,
   while each side strove against the other:
  I do not know *which* army won.)"

The Count was talking to himself;
His face showed his concern.
He asked.Leodilla to ride behind him --
 she mounted, unhappily --
 and he turned from the other, and rode on.


Look: at a bridge above a stream
 they meet a knight whose face was fierce;
Orlando greets him courteously.

That baron, when he saw the maiden,
  *instantly* recognized her face,
 for he was Ordauro, her young lover,
  whom she'd been separated from.

He called a challenge to the Count --
 he's menacing and arrogant --
"You stole this maid from me.  She's mine!                       (L)
 Leave her -- and quick -- or quickly die!"





The Count said, "If she's yours, she's yours.                    (R)
 *I* will not quarrel over her.
 Take her, and take off!
 By Macone,  she's like a nettle in my neck.
 I'll thank you for your courtesy
  if you'll relieve me of this /nuisance/.
 Go anywhere you /please/ with her,
  as long as you don't come near *me*."

Ordauro, when he heard the speech  Orlando made,
 so cowardly  for one who seemed to be so fierce,
 to tell the truth, was flabbergasted.
He took that damsel, and, in silence,
 the three rode off on separate paths,
 one going east, towards Albraka,
 two west, towards Circassian lands.

Orlando could have kept that girl,
 but thinks just of Angelica,
 perhaps in peril far from here.
He rides in haste towards Albraka.
Each hour seems a year until  he'll reach Angelica once more.

It will not be a *year* until  I tell you how he reached that place,
 but I will say no more /this/ hour.
My story's -- for the moment -- done.
Anon, I'll tell what was to come.