Orlando in Love, episode 29: Falerina's Garden The Paladin Orlando rides upon a quest in eastern lands~to smash the magic garden of the wicked sorceress, Falerina. The sorceress has learned by prophecy of Count Orlando's quest. She knows that knight's unmatched in strength, and is enchanted 'gainst all harm. In order to destroy the Count, she fashions now a *magic sword*, able to cut through anything, even the charmed skin of the Count. Orlando is not without aid, a maiden gave to him a book, explaining all that garden's traps, with diagrams, and helpful maps. Orlando's been warned of the sword; The bold knight isn't scared at all. But not /all/ maidens help the count; A damsel he met on the way had won his heart with her smooth wiles, but when Orlando was asleep... she *fled* with both his _horse_ and *sword*. Without these two, Orlando isn't half so fearsome as before. Early next day, Orlando woke and learned about his sword and steed. Consider then, his wretchedness: he thought he'd die from his distress. He wished to enter, nonetheless,~fair Falerina's garden; though~he'd lost his horse and matchless blade, that daring knight was unafraid. Walking along, despondently, he sees a tall elm tree before him. Orlando snapped a mighty branch~off of that tree, a makeshift club. Orlando paused a while before~the place a gateway should appear. He'd been told that he could enter only at the dawn's first light. The sun was just appearing. Count~Orlando watched the garden wall. It was a wall of polished stone that wound unbroken in a ring. @ Skyward a thousand yards it rose; and it curved thirty miles around. A gateway opened in the east. A /dragon/ hissed -- huge past belief. It lashed its tail, it beat its wings. The world heard nothing else, it seemed. The dragon does not leave the door. It stands there as a guardian. + The Count approaches fearlessly -- + shield on his arm, his club in hand. @ + The puissant serpent spreads its jaws + to swallow that surpassing knight. Orlando -- used to such duels -- swings. @ His cudgel clubs the dragon's snout. The serpent -- bruised and vexed -- comes out~and madly charges towards the Count, who takes great wallops with that stout~green limb of elm. The dragon aches. At last he mounts its back. He holds~on by his thighs. @ He rides. He's bold. His two hands flail -- a hurricane. @ He hits its head. He hits again. @ He cracks its skull -- out spill its brains. The monstrous animal falls -- slain. The wall, which once revealed a gate, rejoins -- none now can penetrate, and Count Orlando's trapped *inside.* Orlando knows not what to do. His spirit sags. He is confused. Where should he go? He looks around. There was a fountain on his right. that sprinkled water on all sides. On top, a statue made of stone, with water flowing from its breasts, had written on its brow: "This stream~leads to the garden's splendid palace." To cool his face and hands, the Count~moved forward to that limpid fount. That fountain stood among some plants, and on each side there were small trees, and it produced a little stream~of water very pure and clear. The stream, which ran through flowers, was~the one the statue spoke about. That palace was Orlando's goal. Looking for more adventure there, he walked along the riverbank, admiring the countryside, amazed. It was, just then, the month of May, so everywhere the flowers bloomed and gave that place so sweet a scent -- enough to make the heart content. Sweet-smelling fields and pleasant hills with gracious groves of pine and fir, and birds among green boughs and leaves singing, in bright voice, soothing songs, rabbits and roebucks and swift stags, pleasant to see and tame to hand, hares and does darting everywhere -- all of these made the garden fair. The Count's path was a riverbank, and having travelled quite a way, just where a hillside met the shore, he saw a palace of carved stone; He couldn't make out what it was~at first, for it was ringed with trees, but when he came up close and saw, he was beside himself with awe, becuase it was not marble work that he had seen between the trees but glazes colored with gold leaf, which cloaked the palace's high walls. There was a gate -- of wealth so great~that it could not be matched on earth -- some five yards wide, and ten yards tall, inset with rubies, emeralds. The gate's portcullis was not dropped, so Count Orlando passed within. and when he'd stepped across the threshold, he saw a maiden in that hall, standing with her back to the door. The maiden was all dressed in white, with a gold diadem on her head. In her left hand she held a sword, @ its surface polished, mirror-bright. Within that sword, she saw the Count~reflected, and she fled for fear. She left the palace, reached the plain. Orlando, armored, followed her, and not two hundred steps from there, halfway across the field, he caught her. He quickly snatched the sword she held, which had been forged to murder him: Orlando grasps the damsel's hair -- the wind had strewn it on her shoulders -- and threatens her with death and pain~and torments if she doesn't show~him how to leave these garden walls. Although she shakes all over, frightened, she doesn't relent because of fear. She won't respond. She does not speak. Orlando's threats are useless, for~this sorceress won't talk to him. No fear of him provokes from her~the smallest sign that she's concerned. He menaces that queen again, but she grows still more obstinate. He can't persuade the maid to speak. Orlando is upset, distressed: "There's nothing left but violence. (R) The shame is mine, the hurt is yours. And yet, this act _is_ justified." That said, he leads her to a tree and ties her tightly to the trunk with long and slender twisting twigs, and then he asks, "_Where_ _are_ the _gates?_" {loud, threatening}(R) But still she offers no reply. In torment, she seems /satisfied./ He says, "You're false, a fraud, a witch! (R) Despite your wiles, I'll match your wits, for I have just remembered this: Within my shirt, there is a book~that clarifies this whole affair." At this, he pulls it from his breast. @ He reads that little book, which shows~all of the garden -- inside, out. He sees in the encircling wall a door that exits to the south. To leave though, one must first defeat~a bull with one horn made of flame and one of iron so keen that~no armor can stop its attack. _Before_ that door, one also finds~a /lake/ most difficult to cross, The book shows how to pass these tests. Orlando can't afford delay. Across green grass he makes his way, leaving the queen lashed to the tree. Across the fragrant grass he goes, and when he's walked a little way, he stuffs his helmet at the ears~with roses, @ which adorn that field. His ears are closed. He strains to hear~the birds that are on every side. He sees necks move, beaks opening, @ but cannot hear what songs they sing. The thickness of the roses round~his ears prevented any sound~upon this earth from reaching him, however hard he strained to hear. Farther along, he reached a pond whose depths held many buried men. This little lake invited him, with waters joyous, clear, and calm. Orlando'd hardly reached the bank, when the waters began to gurgle. Emerging from the depths, a /siren/~surfaces, singing her song. /Above/ the water, she's a maid, but what /beneath/ the surface stays~is _fish_ invisible because~her loins remain within the lake. She shows the fair and hides what's ugly. She starts to sing so pleasantly that birds and wild beasts flock to hear, but when they reach her, instantly~that sweetness makes them fall asleep. The Count hears nothing, but stands still, /pretending/ he is listening. And as the book instructed him, he lies down on the bank, and snores, @ appearing to be fast asleep. The false beast did not know this trick. She came tow'rds shore to kill him, but~Orlando grabbed her by the hair. @ As loud as possible, she sang -- since she knew nothing else to do -- Orlando didn't hear her tune: too many roses blocked his ears. He dragged her from that lake to shore, and cut her head off with the sword -- @ for so the book instructed him. Then with the blood the siren spilled, he stained his armor, overvest, his clothes, and all his flesh as well. The book tells him that only thus can his arms stand the fierce attack of.the./bull/ that he will soon encounter. Its horn of fire burns up _all,_ /except/ what's bathed in _siren's blood._ At last Orlando reached the gate, after long wandering on the plain. The instant he arrived, the wall~of stone that girds the garden opened, and then the gate of bronze unlocked, and through that door the bull rushed forth. It charges, bellowing, to battle, tossing its horns of iron and fire that plates and chainmail can't resist: those horns pierce any armament. The Count, whose sword can cut so well, attacks it on its lowered head @ and _slices off_ its iron horn! He knocks it neatly to the earth. The battle does not stop for this: Using its other horn, of _flame,_ it swings so hard and with such force, the Count can hardly keep his feet. He'd have been scorched from head to foot were he not steeped in siren blood but it wards off the flame that would~have burned his armor and his flesh. Orlando fought courageously, like someone who was not afraid. With a two-handed grip, enraged, he swung past measure, backhand, straight. @ He had great force, and a charmed blade; therefore, no object could sustain~his blows. He hit hump, back, and flanks. @ At last, the bull dropped in a faint. The Count sliced off its legs and chopped~its neck. @ The tiring battle stops, and now all of that dead bull's parts are _swallowed_ by the gaping ground. -- The gateway _had_ been open, but~when the beast vanished, it swung shut. @ The stone wall was sealed up again, with no mark where the door had been. The exit vanishes from view. @ Orlando knows not what to do. + He looks within his little book. + and ponders that encircling wall. + He sees he has to take a route~along a river that runs west to a large, jeweled, open door, guarded by an armored /donkey./ Soon I will say how this small ass~is made -- its form is marvelous! May God protect Orlando, as he rushes down the river bank! Away he goes, quickly he runs, and in his mind devises plans because the book shows that /before/~he reaches that armed ass, there's _more._ + He knows this, + and along the path he spies a tree beyond all measure; + No beech or pine tree grows so high -- + full of great branches, fine green leaves, + And when he sees it from afar, + he calls to mind the message in~his little book, + and he prepares~himself before he reaches there. + Orlando stopped beside the stream, + and quickly he detached his shield, + removed his whole crest from his helm, + and laced his /shield/ atop his brow, + so that it covered him in front + and blocked his face above his eyes. + He only sees what's at his feet, + but he continues towards the tree. + A large bird from its branches rose, its head and countenance a *queen's:* It wore a crown, its hair was blond. Its feathered neck was gold and red; but its breast, trunk, and larger plumes were trimmed and flecked with every hue. Its tail is green and red and gold, and both its wings show peacock eyes; Its talons and its claws are huge, exactly like strong hooks of iron. Woe to the man whom it has caught, since it consumes him -- that man dies! This bird excretes a soaking stream which turns eyes that it touches _blind._ It clattered from its branch and flew, that giant bird, toward Orlando, who, step by step, approached the tree with his shield on his head, gaze lowered. As he, with downcast eyes, drew close, that foul bird flew in circles, and~it clamored with such screams and sounds, it almost brought harm to the Count -- At times he was about to look, but he remembered his small book, and hid himself beneath his shield. The curs-ed monster raised its tail and pissed its poison down on him, which hit his shield then down his chest ran hissing, much like burning oil, but did not touch his _eyes_ at all. The Count /pretended/ to collapse; Like a blind man, he groped the grass. + The bird swooped, grabbed his hauberk, + and~it pulled him to the tree. + While dragged,~Orlando swung at it backhand. @ + Directly through it, his sword sliced + and severed it from side to side + so that -- I will be brief -- it died. After Orlando views that bird, he leaves it in the tree's shade, dead. + He mends his lofty, feathered crest, @ + lowers his shield upon his arm, + and passes tow'rds the portal, + west~along the bank, where that _ass_ is, + and when he's not gone far, arrives. He sees a gate there, open wide. Nowhere can one see florid work to match that door's exterior, covered with jewels of great worth. It's guarded not by club or sword but by an ass whose flanks are well~protected with.magic golden scales. Its ears -- each measuring two ells -- can whip like serpent's tails; @ they wind,~and they can seize and squeeze and bind. Covered with golden armor, as~I said, it lets no man pass by. Its tail can sever like a blade, unstopped by either mail or plate, and its voice, loud and endless, makes~the country all around it shake. -- + Orlando now draws near the gate. + The beast attacks the Count at once. + Orlando hit it viciously -- @ + its magic scales were no defense. + He flayed it to its naked flank -- + his blade could cut all magic spells! The beast seized, with its ears, his shield @ and shook and smashed at it so hard, it pulled it from his straining arm. Now Count Orlando, in a rage~past measure, furious, assails, and with one stroke cuts off both ears, @ because no armor shielded them. It screams and swings its rump @ to flail~its pointed and most sharp-edged tail, and hews off all the bold Count's arms: + He hardly notices -- he's charmed -- + and with a huge swing hits its haunch~on its right side + and cuts it through, piercing deep into its left thigh. There's no defense against that sword -- the leg is nearly cut clean off. That magic beast falls down to earth and cries out in a frightened voice, but the Count swings, he takes no notice. With double grip he swung nonstop, despite the monster's frightened howls, and with a single stroke, he chopped~right through its neck -- @ or almost through -- Just then the forest loudly shook; Earth opened with a trembling roar. @ The evil beast fell in. The earth~again closed as it was before. The Count would leave the garden now. He turns his steps to that rich door, but where it was no longer shows -- the wall has been completely closed. + He takes the book and starts to look. {sigh} + At every gate he's been deceived + and has endured so much fatigue: + What can he say? What can he do? Each exit has appeared in vain, and with enormous risk of death, and yet, the pamphlet's words explain, he doesn't have a _prayer_ of getting~out through the gate that faces /north./ Daring is useless there, and force,~advice, and one's own wit because~that door is much too dangerous. A _giant,_ measureless, robust, protects the north gate, sword in hand. And _if_ he should be killed, *two more* are born from his blood in the field. And these have equal destinies: each one creates two more -- there's four, then eight, then sixteen, thirty-two, thus multiplying on and on~their numbers Each is bold and strong. Orlando, to attain that gate, must pass its massive guardian. He'll need great wisdom, cunning wit, but doesn't think about all that. He faced -- defiantly -- this trial, daring to say within his soul, "One who can _last_ can conquer *all*." (R) Murmuring to himself, he went~along a hillside toward the north, and when the Count came down, he saw~a flowering flat valley, where~white tables were set out around~a fountain, and were all prepared well laden with the finest fare, with rich, gold goblets at each place. There is, as far as he can spy -- along the plain and up the hill -- no one around to oversee~the richness that surrounds the spring, but he can see the _warm_ food /steam./ Orlando longs to taste that food, but first draws out his little book. He grows suspicious as he reads. Searching that text, the baron bold~sees this affair is dangerous. Beyond that spring's a thorny grove with crimson roses flowering` and there, within that lair of leaves, a fearsome _Fauna_ hides, unseen. She has a woman's breast and face, but all the rest is squalid _snake._ + This wench held in her hand a chain + that ran, concealed, through herbs and flowers + and formed a loop around the fount, + so that if someone, lured by scents, + entered the space around the spring, + he would be caught, endure sharp pain, + for she would pull along the chain @ + and drag her victim to her grove. _From_ the spring's side, Orlando looked, then headed to the verdant woods, and when the Fauna noticed him, she screamed, attempted to escape, slithering snakelike through the grass, but Orlando slaughtered her at once with *one* swing and no other stroke -- @ the monster put up no defense. + That Fauna lay dead on the field. + The Count continued, heading north. + He saw the huge door, not far off, + reached by a bridge that crossed a stream. + There did a murderous giant stand + with shield on arm and helm on head. + His cruel face is threatening. + The giant's armed, his sword is drawn. + Orlando neared that giant, and~he had no doubts about their duel: He had fought often in his life, and did not fear to face this fight. @ That giant, measureless, stepped forth~and took a huge swing with his sword, But.Orlando dodged and stepped aside, then struck with his enchanted blade. He hit the giant on the hip -- @ no plate or mail was any help. He smashed through the stomach plate and sliced him to his other thigh. The Count rejoiced, for he believed~that all his battles were complete, and he was sure that he could leave, seeing that giant down and dead. -- That giant's dead. So much blood poured,~the ground around was covered with.it, and when blood trickled off the bridge~and to the earth, a _fire_ was lit-- the blood *ignited!* High and quick,~flames formed a _giant,_ bit by bit,~completely armed -- his gaze was frantic. After the first, a second grew. They seemed indeed the sons of fire, since each was furious and fast, with burning eyes, a gaze of flame. Orlando paused, irresolute; He didn't know what he should do. He would not lose, but could not win, since if he knocked _them,_ dead, to earth, he'd have *more* work when they're reborn. Still, ~ he's persuaded he _will_ win if there should be a *million* born. + Bravely he turns to face the door. + The giants stand before the gate, + and each one holds a large, curved sword, + since they were born with scimitars. + Both giants, menacing still more, + swing to attack that daring knight. + But he is not killed by these blows. Orlando puts his sword away, @ for he now has another plan. He quickly chases after one and grabs him _hard_ below his hips. @ {grab /High/} Both giants had unmeasured force, but still the Count had even more. He raised one up, @ then swung him round~and stretched him, face down, on the ground. The other giant, furious, never stopped swinging at Orlando, from either side, both high and low. @ Orlando lets one giant lie and struggles with the second one. He grips him as he had the first, and overturns him with a crash. The first leaps up, stung with great wrath. The Count leaves this and grapples that, @ and while he fights with number one, the second rises and attacks. The strife is long. The way they fight~there's no hope it will _ever_ end. + Orlando cannot pause at all, + for each of them keeps bruising him. Already, they have agonized~more than four hours, with pain enough~for both sides, as Orlando fights~with two and does not use a sword. The knight won't let them multiply -- he beats them down to earth, but he~won't kill them. Yet he cannot leave~the garden -- they are in his way. He has a sudden, _new idea_~while fighting. He /pretends/ to flee. Orlando runs across the field, but those two giant men /retreat/. Each one went back along the bridge as if not worried by the Count, and he, who often turned around, believed that they stayed back from fear. _However,_ they were held there by~the /spell/ which had created them, for they _exist_ to block the gate, to guard the river and the bridge. Orlando does not fathom this. He leaves behind that giant pair and heads back to the valley floor, where lies the fair grove near the fount round which the Fauna stretched her snare. That looping trap was all one chain, just as I told you earlier. Untying it, Orlando drags~it through the field, behind his back, with difficulty, it's so thick. + With this he goes back to the bridge + and throws one giant down by force + then chains his arms and legs in knots. + This took a lot of time to do -- + because the other giant fought -- + but he succeeded, though annoyed, + then forced the _other_ down again, + and chained him as he had the first. The door was now no longer blocked; the Count was free to leave at will. But he was thinking in his heart that if he exited that way, his honor would be incomplete; And it would do the world great harm to let this garden still exist, since knights and ladies from all lands were slaughtered there with viciousness. Therefore Orlando stops to think if in some way, or by some means, he might destroy this garden park. Thus fame and total victory would be well won, it seems to him: Such fierce, such savage practices, the cause of many traveler's deaths, would have been ended by his prowess. He reads the book, learns of a tree~this garden plot has in its midst. If one can snap its topmost branch, the garden disappears at once. No one can climb that tree, to try~is to be mangled and to die. Orlando, to whom fear's unknown, believes this tree-top _can_ be won. He soon came to the magic tree, and saw, up high, the special branch: It was, past measure, beautiful. No arrow from a Turkish bow could ever fly to that great height. The limbs grew /broader/ as they rose; the bottom of this strange tree's trunk was not a single yard around. Its long and subtle branches' leaves, conceal within them piercing thorns. The limbs begin a bow-shot high; the trunk below is smooth as glass, so that no living soul could climb, and if a person dared ascend, he could grip nothing as he went. Pretty, gold apples grace the tree, heavy and round and radiant. They dangle from a slender branch and menace people who come near. They are the size of a man's head, and if a man goes near the trunk, from just his footsteps in the woods, the tall and slim tree trembles, and~the apples drop with violence. Anyone caught beneath the fall is flattened on the earth and slain, since nothing can withstand their weight. Orlando knew all this; he'd read,~within his book, all that I've said. But when his task's more arduous, the more audacious is his heart. His mind was set. He'd finish this. He cut a beech tree's leafy branch, and wove a wicker frame from it. He covers it with earth and sod, then placed the frame above his head. + Now, as he runs beneath the tree, + the whole trunk trembles to its roots; + Its giant apples -- those great weights -- + fall thick as snow along the plain. + The Count was speeding anxiously. + He hurried to approach the tree. + The sod and earth are all knocked off + and still that storm of apples falls. + The wicker frame was weighed with them, + and dragged Orlando down to earth, + just as he reached the tree's thin base. When he has reached that splendid tree, don't think that he attempts to climb. He *cuts* it, with a single chop: @ that's a fine way to reach the top! That great tree topples to the ground; the branch upon its tip, snaps off. And when it snaps, the meadowground + begins to tremble all around. + The Count, under his frame, can't see, + but only hears great roaring noise. Smoke covers mountainside and park. The sun hides, and the sky turns dark. The smoke comes from a flame which rises higher than ever tower did: Demolishing the garden is~a spirit out of hell's abyss. But when the ruin is complete, daylight returns and heaven clears. The once-encircling garden wall was seen no more -- it disappeared. The fountain and the palace -- gone. The countryside was wide and clear. Only the evil damsel, I~mean Falerina, still remained,~lashed to the beech tree, as she was. Vociferous in her laments, weeping to see her garden wrecked, no longer mute as she had been, she does not shun the paladin, but begs him in a voice that grieves to pity her dejected plight. "O flower of all strongest knights, (L) I must confess I merit death! But if you were to kill me _now_ -- as I deserve to die, in truth -- my death will bring a heartless end to all who are my prisoners! "Listen to what I have to say: (L) It took me seven months to make, with my false arts, this garden and~the things inside -- wrecked in one day! "This garden, though, was not enough: (L) I built a bridge above a stream to capture knights and cavaliers, as many as came down the path. Its watchman was an ancient wretch, who tempted many people there. "A multitude of prisoners~remain, (L) the old man captures more, and if I'm killed, immediately~both bridge *and* prisoners will vanish. Yes, all of them will die with me, and of this harm you'll be the cause. But spare me, and I'll swear and promise that I'll release them, safe and free. "And if you don't believe me, (L) take~me with you, tied up as I am (tied or untied it's all the same~to me, for either way I'm shamed), and I'll destroy that prison, and~then set all of those people free. Make your decision as you please, to let the others die, ~ or... /spare me./" The Count made his decision fast -- he would have spared her anyway, for neither injury nor hate could have caused him to slay a maiden. Thus, in accord, they seek the bridge. But what they met along their way, I'll save until another day. I thank you, gentle ladies, lords, for listening here to my words. I wish you long, life, health, and ease, but I have said enough, and cease.