Orlando in Love, Episode 50: The Lovers Meet I've planted different flowers in~the meadow -- yellow, blue, white, red. Come forward if you care for scents and pluck the one that you like best. Some like the lily, some the rose, some this, and some another one. My garden has variety: I've planted it with love and war. The fiercer souls prefer the fights, while fine and gentle hearts like love. Within this tale I'm telling now, I hope to satisfy you all. -- The emperor of Africa with two-and-thirty vassal kings has crossed the sea with many troops to bring great harm to Charlemagne. A prophecy in Africa says this assault will win success -- /while/ young Ruggiero fights with them. Ruggiero is an orphaned knight, whose history you'll hear anon. Among the African soldiers is the arrogant King Rodomont, the ruler of Algiers, who could~defeat an _army_ all alone. But Rodomont can't fight our _men,_ because a /woman's/ stopping him! Fair Bradamante, sister of~Rinaldo, famous paladin, full armed and armored fights against~King Rodomont upon the field. Her strength is no less than her brother's, which she now proves against her foe. --- Meanwhile, the army of the pagans has overwhelmed the Christian men. King Charlemagne and all his knights now flee towards Paris' high walls. Ruggiero rides around the battlefield, to see who's stayed behind. When he had topped a hill, he saw~a fearsome duel down below, as Rodomont and Bradamante battle with great ferocity. Since Bradamante's in full armor, he didn't realize her sex. He stopped and watched them with delight. There never was so fierce a fight. In those days, if you could select~from all the world two fighters, none~finer than fearsome Rodomont~and Bradamante would be found. They show skill and experience~in what they do, and they work hard. If one is hit, the other is, with no delay between the swings. They strike so many fiery sparks, their flashes seem to reach the stars. Ruggiero did not know that pair -- he had not seen them anywhere -- but praised them both, for he could tell~their skills were quite comparable. -- Watching the harsh duel, he saw well~that such a battle was no game but pitted Saracen and Christian, so he descended to the plain. He said, "If one of you loves Christ, [young knight] listen to what I say and cease, because I'll give you grievous news: King Charlemagne's camp is destroyed. I'm saying what my eyes have seen. If you desire to follow him you can't delay for long, since he~already has left Gascony." The damsel, when she understood, let fall her horse's reins. Her face~turned very pale, and in great anguish, she said to Rodomont, "Good soldier,~do not deny me what I ask: [-feminine knight] Permit me to pursue my lord! Let me be near my sovereign because I want to die with him!" But Rodomont responded, sneering, "I'll answer right away: No deal! [+deep, rude] You'll never leave this field, unless~I'm stopped somehow from keeping you. You want an earlier departure? You'll have to throw me down -- dead -- here!" -- After /Ruggiero/ heard such talk, _he_ answered Rodomont like this: "It can't be! I am shocked to find~a gentleman so impolite. Better a branch without its leaves, than ill-behaved nobility!" He then told Bradamante, "Baron,~turn your reins, travel when you please, and if this... /person/ wants to quarrel, he will not be deprived. _I'll_ fight him!" The damsel left without a word, and Rodomont then said, "I see! You have a medic's nature and~you search for trouble purposely. You're mad to die for a Christian knight! You should be chained! Defend yourself!" Ruggiero makes no threats but shouts~and swings. The other answers back. Each one is fierce and full of strength, with such rip-roaring, fierce attacks -- nowhere on earth have such been matched. Beneath each other's blades they wheeled, those barons bold, prepared to die. -- The first one walloped was Ruggiero, on his resilient shield, composed~of three iron layers and four bone, but insufficient to resist the marvelous, strong Rodomont, who sliced that shield like some fruit's husk. Ruggiero pays him back full well, and Rodomont's iron plates can't help. Ruggiero cuts /his/ shield across, ripping it like a spiderweb. No armor softens either swing. No fight has ever equaled this. Death would have been the destiny for both in that ferocious fight, but since his hour had not yet struck (Ruggiero's time was not _yet_ up) an interruption stopped their duel for /Bradamante/ parted them -- -- The valorous maid, Bradamante, who'd followed after Charles, I said. After she'd traveled for some distance without discovering her troops, who'd galloped off in full retreat, she started worrying and told~herself, "O thankless Bradamante! That cavalier, whom you don't know, can say you are discourteous, that you behaved abominably. "He joined that duel on my account -- my back's protected by his front. Now if I saw King Charles and all~his soldiers dead or captured, still~I'd have to go back to that valley -- Only to see that courtly knight. I'm bound to the high emperor, but to myself -- and honor -- more." As she said this, she reined around, and quickly crossed the little hill, and came where Rodomont and young~Ruggiero's duel caused great destruction. -- When she arrived, precisely then, Ruggiero -- that young, daring man -- swung furiously at Rodomont, and left his head completely stunned. Rodomont slumped unconscious in~his saddle, and he dropped his sword. Ruggiero then withdrew because~he would not hit an unarmed man, and Bradamante, watching, said, "I was correct to credit him~with courtesy -- he's what I thought. I must discover _who_ he is." When she'd descended to the plain, she told Ruggiero, graciously, "Accept my poor apology for what I did so villainously. "Our errors often bring us blame, but I committed this mistake to follow my king -- Charlemagne. I didn't comprehend my blunder till my distress and rage had lessened. Now grant me, please, what I request: Allow /me/ to _complete_ this duel." -- While she was trying to explain, King Rodomont recovered, and~when he saw he'd been overcome, was mortified and almost maddened. He found his hand was empty -- as~I said before, he'd dropped his sword -- and he cursed Fortune, cursed at heaven; Then he went over to Ruggiero, with downcast eyes that stared at earth,~and said, "I've seen... it's very clear that you're the world's best cavalier. No one can win fame fighting you. "Even if I should have the luck~to beat you, fighting in the field, has not your courtesy just won? My prowess is not worth a straw. Therefore, you stay; I'll go away." He left without an answer in~less time than plain boiled cabbage takes. -- Fair Bradamante stayed behind~there, when the king of Algiers left. The maiden was preoccupied~with learning who Ruggiero was, but she found no direct approach, no way to bring the subject up. Afraid that he might be displeased, she didn't ask and took her leave. Ruggiero, courteous, exclaimed: "I can't let you go on your own: This land is full of foreigners who frequently attack the road. You can't defend against so many, so I will keep you company. When they see _me,_ they'll let us pass; If not, we'll save ourselves with swords." Bradamante liked this plan, and so together they set off, and she begins to lead the baron~with questions, starting far away, taking from the hills to plains, until at last she reached her goal: She asked politely, nicely -- if~he'd tell her who his people were. -- He told her of the Trojan war, and how, by treachery, Troy fell. "Determined that the memory of Trojan blood should disappear, the Greeks cut all their captive's throats. "But as they searched for _Hector's_ son, the little boy Astyanax, his mother came up with a plan~to save him: She took in her arms~a /different/ child and ran away. When the Greeks, who were hunting for them~everywhere, found her holding him, and put them instantly to death. "But her true son, Astyanax, was hidden in a tomb, a vault~under a large and ancient rock, located in a shadowed forest. -- "There was a knight -- his father's friend -~ with him, and they went wandering, crossed the sea, sailed from place to place, until they reached the Isle of Flame. That was the name of Sicily, due to the fire Mount Aetna breathes. "The baby grew up. He was handsome~and he was strong -- a prodigy. In his short life he did great deeds -- Argos and Corinth fell before him -- his grandsons, though, were greater still. "From these two twins, two houses came that over time acquired great fame. From one, the noble line of France, King Pepin and King Charles descend. -- "The other line was even finer. I don't say this from foolish pride, but not another house on earth has registered such valiant deeds -- and I, to tell the truth, am one~of them, I am Ruggiero's son. (the second so named of that line, making /me/ Ruggiero the third). "My father was renowned; a beacon~of grace and prowess -- sheer perfection. He ruled over Reggio. "That knight's betrayal and his murder were the world's most unnatural: inhuman, infamous Beltramo sold out my father -- his own brother. He let the enemy take Reggio, burn its homes, slay the population. "My father's heavy-hearted wife desperately fled to Africa, and, pregnant, sorrowful, reached term -- her body could not hold her baby~longer -- and died as I was born. -- "An old magician raised me, who~fed me on lion marrow and sinew -~ nothing.else. What I say is true. "He combed all darkest Africa, and with his cruel, severe enchantments, he caught the meanest sort of serpents; He closed those dragons in a pen and put /me/ in to fight with them. [sad at his plight] (It's true the wizard doused their flames and plucked the teeth from their jaws first.) "This was my sport, this the first game~I practiced at a tender age, and when he thought I'd grown a bit -- he didn't want me kept enclosed -- he led me through the wild and lonely~woods after.many vicious beasts. "He made me trace the tracks of strange~beasts and strange creatures through the forest, and I remember hunting for~gryphons and pegasi with wings -- "But I fear I've gone on too long and you won't want to hear my sorrows. To answer what you _asked,_ my name's~Ruggiero; my race comes from Troy." -- Bradamante'd hardly breathed all the while he had talked to her. She'd looked at him a thousand times, taking him in from crest to stirrups, and she was so pleased by his form that she could hardly concentrate. She wished more to see his face than see inside of Paradise. But Bradamante didn't speak, till.Ruggiero asked her, "Baron bold,~if you don't mind, I'd like to know~_your_ name, your family history." The maid, who was on fire with love, answered Ruggiero in this way: "You'll see my heart -- which you don't see -- when I reveal what you've asked me. "I don't know if you've heard _my_ name, although /Rinaldo's/ paramount~fame has.possibly reached your race. I am the *sister* of Rinaldo, and so you will believe that this~is true, I'll show my face to you." -- Saying that, she took off her helmet. Her helm came off, her hair fell loose. It was the shade of shining gold. Her face possessed great delicacy,~daring, and prowess intermingled. Her features -- eyebrows, lips, and nose -- seemed painted by the hand of Love, and she has eyes so sweet and lively -- a waste of words to try and tell. When he saw her angelic face, Ruggiero was quite overcome, and his heart trembled in his chest as if it were consumed by fire. He didn't know what he should do. The young man scarcely dared to speak. He hadn't feared her /helmeted,/ but felt faint when he saw her face. She then began, "My good lord, pray,~be pleased to grant me only this: If you have ever loved a lady, let me see you. Reveal your face." As they conversed, they heard a *crash.* "God, what is this?" Ruggiero asked. Quickly he turned and saw armed men galloping toward them down the path. -- A number of the pagan kings were leading forth a band of men to pick up stragglers in retreat. King MartasIn, King Pinador, King Danifort, and others too. Seeing them come, Ruggiero, bold,~lifted his hand toward them and called: "Stay where you are upon the road! I am Ruggiero! Don't come closer!" In truth, he was not fully heard. The knights screamed as they left the forest, and MartasIn, who always raged, suddenly charged them, like a tempest. He went after Bradamante and struck her fiercely on the head. Unlucky girl! She wore no helmet. That stunning maid used her raised shield~for cover, and she would not flee, but MartasIn now cut it open and gave her head a gaping wound. -- Bold Bradamante didn't faint: She heated like a dragon, and~with all her force struck MartasIn. But now Ruggiero shared her danger. Another pagan knight now charged. He used both hands to hit Ruggiero, @ striking, with double grip, his head, knocking him down -- or so he thought. Ruggiero, though, had sovereign strength and held his saddle, never moving. Instead, offended by that blow, he grew more fearsome, like a lion. Bradamante, meanwhile, slipped away~from everyone. She tore a pennant~from a spear she found @ and quickly wrapped it round her head. Her helmet laced, her visor down,~sword in hand, @ she returned to fight. My lords, all those of you who love, imagine what these two will do~in battle, with their hearts thus linked, for one won't let the other go. The heaven's lightning in its rage could not make these two separate; Pitiless fortune, even death could not disjoin so strong a love. -- Five pagan kings rode in this troop with fifty armored men as squires, But if the _whole_army_ had been there, the Maid would have displayed no fear but _shown_ Ruggiero, whom she loved, her skill was greater than her fame. Ruggiero had no less desire to make sure that the maiden saw that he was valorous and strong. His heart was blazing like a star. His burning soul, his will, his love~hammered him, each more than the other. He would have raged -- to see her head~cut! -- even if he had been dead. The valiant maid had just returned when a fierce pagan struck Ruggiero. She spurred. She hurried to his aid and whacked that wily Saracen. No use were his plates, shield, and mail: at once, she cut and sliced through them. @ Ruggiero, who'd just turned to give~repayment for the blows he'd taken, witnessed what did not /seem/ to be~a _woman's_ swing: it passed belief. The pagan lay, halved, on the field. -- One pagan, young King Pinador, had recognized Ruggiero now. He shouted out, "This is dishonor! You are betraying Africa!" When he heard these insulting words, the young man lost his self-control. His face, his eyes burned like a flame~as he yelled: "You're... _discourteous!_ That you outnumber us won't help! You are the traitors here, not me, and I'll _prove_ it -- immediately!" That angry youth, between his words, urges his horse at Pinador. Now you will see blood soak the field as two provoked hearts do great deeds. -- Now, just as soon as Bradamante~saw MartasIn, she charged at him, and she was screaming, "Listen hard!~ This time I am not helmetless!" So saying, with two hands she hurled~a limitless and awful swing that knocked him, stunned, back in his saddle, and truly he'd have fallen down, but now some other Saracens~charged at the damsel from the side. Danifort comes, and with him are~thirty -- perhaps more -- followers, attacking Bradamante now. -- She killed the first two _speedily._ One fell here, one there on the earth, and as the first one rapped the gates~of hell, the second man arrived. Danifort charged her several times,~then wheeled away; He did not wait,~but escaped with an arrow's speed when Bradamante turned his way. Look here: the maid saw MartasIn, who swung at her Ruggiero now~and hit him -- hit him on his back -- certain that he would knock him flat. -- Bradamante arrived just when~Ruggiero felt that all-out blow and fell upon his horse's neck~unconscious, as if he were dead. Truly, she got there just in time, since otherwise he would have died. The damsel, at her coming, seemed~a falcon driving partridges. Both MartasIn and Pinador~attacked her, and these pagans charged~with Danifort and many more. Some hit her back, some struck her front -- but she, a treasury of strength, disparaged every one of them, and fixed her sights on MartasIn, His strength did him no good -- his chest~is wounded, and his helmet split. The maiden, who had set her heart~on killing him, no matter what, circles around him with her sword. Finally, vexed and violent, @ she dropped her shield, and with a two~hand grip, swung hard at MartasIn. She hit his head; his armor split, and that well-honed blade never slowed until it sliced him to the waist. -- As she divided him, Ruggiero~woke, and saw that splendid stroke. The young man rode back to the fray, his face so red it seemed like flame. Pagans, beware! Death comes. The game~is done, the dice too hazardous. False Danifort sees no more sense~in further fight: Already slain~are MartasIn and many men; forty or more lie on the plain. Danifort, Pinador, and~maybe eight more men remain alive. In conference, the knights determined that Danifort should charge the damsel, fake a retreat, and draw her off: The rest will try to kill Ruggiero. -- King Danifort now stealthily~hung back, and then he thrust his spear. It hit her breastplate on a seam, yet did not enter deeply. (He~who hesitates does not strike hard.) Still, it enraged the maid, who charged. But Danifort does not wait there, for further fight is _not_ his plan. To lure her, he pretends he's hurt. That villain often turns around,~lets her get close, then kicks his heels~and goes full gallop for a while, then canters to conserve his steed; Quite soon, he's led her far away, and they have left behind the plain where battles had been fought that day. The crafty pagan climbs the mountains, then rides down to another plain, and Bradamante chases, she~will follow till he's caught or slain. Her horse is worn and out of wind, unrested during this long run, and when it goes to jump a ditch, it misses and it tumbles in. -- When Danifort hears that horse crash,~he turns -- he seems no longer hurt -~ and says, "You won't escape this _snare_ that you have fallen into, /Christian!/" Now Bradamante shoves aside~her horse with her left arm, and rises,~shouting out, "Lying Saracen! You haven't caught me! I'm not bound!" Danifort circles round the maid, and frequently he sneaks attacks, feigning assaults and then withdrawing: The rogue, by this means, wounds the maid. Bradamante sees her.trouble now, and silently says to herself, "I'm spilling blood! I will be killed~if I don't use _his_ tricks to catch him." She says this to herself, and she~pretends that she is overcome. She hardly needs to counterfeit, for she's been wounded several times, and her blood stains her armor red. At last, she feigns a final fall, collapsing so convincingly anyone would have sworn she's dead. -- Conniving Danifort then checked. Not daring to dismount, he first~prodded her with his lance to test~if her life were extinguished yet. The maid endured this, motionless, so he climbed down and tied his horse. When she saw him on foot, she ceased~playing dead and leapt to her feet. Now the curst pagan couldn't run, couldn't retreat as he had done, she cut his head off cleanly... letting the /body/ go where it would. -- The shadows in that land were long; The sky began to darken. Lost,~the maiden knew not where she was: She'd been led down an unknown road. We will let Bradamante go (we'll follow her adventure later), but let's return now where I left~daring Ruggiero in his fight. -- Oh to have seen that bold young man~divide his time, and so precisely! Here, there, he strikes; that man, now this. It seems he's hardly hit one when~he strikes the next. He swings so fast~there's less space, less time in between a thunderbolt and lightning flash. Ruggiero, bit by bit, prevailed, till only Pinador remained. Ruggiero charged at Pinador, but that false pagan was so scared, he~ran like a greyhound off its leash. Through dales and over crags, he fled until Ruggiero took his head. @ -- The sun is hidden in the west before that difficult duel ends and the young man, in love, looks round~for Bradamante. He's distressed,~and can't calm his anxiety, for nowhere does he see the lady~he cherishes. He calls, he searches. Before these lovers meet again, the Fates will bring them each great pain, for true love never did run smooth, yet, in the end, their pangs 'twill smooth. If you would hear, then come again, but I, for now, must rest my pen.