Trufaldino: The Evil King of Baghdad
. . . continued
The full text of Boiardo's newly translated Orlando Innamorato will be published by Parlor Press in August 2003 in a new translation with an introduction and notes by Charles Stanley Ross, the book will appear in print and ebook versions. If you would like to be notified of its availablity, please let us know. Email editor@parlorpress.com or sign our guestbook.
The battle begins again the next day
Grifone reached them as they talked,
ready for battle, fully armed.
Aquilant's with him, and Chiaròne,
and—crown on casque—King Hadrian,
but not Oberto dal Leòne,
because his wounded face had swollen
from lack of care and unconcern:
It hurt worse than it had at first.
He stayed, but Trufaldino came:
For him the fight had been proclaimed.
The scoundrel's countenance was pale,
but he could find no good excuse
to keep him from the bitter path
descending to the open plain.
Trufaldin felt outraged and wronged,
and he looked dead; his face was drawn.
Let's leave those who, at the strong walls,
opened the gates and dropped the drawbridge,
and turn attention to Ranaldo,
who knew Orlando by his call.
Although he knew that he was right,
he'd just as soon not have this fight,
because he loved his cousin-german
like his own brother, with devotion.
He worried, troubled in his heart,
about how this campaign would end,
since he'd sworn Trufaldin must die,
and now the Count defended him.
While he thought, look! Astolfo joined,
as did Marfisa, prompt for valor,
Prasildo and Iroldo and
Torindo, who was Turkey's king.
When they arrived beside Ranaldo,
Astolfo said, "Come on, let's go!
Let's beat the iron while it's hot."
The prince said, "One works better slow!
Fair cousin, settle down somewhat.
You are not where you think you are.
I tell you, here, before us, comes
the fiersome Count d’Anglante, armed."
Marfisa rolled her eyes at this,
and, unperturbed, she almost laughed
and asked Ranaldo, “Who is this
who makes you fear before he's here?
I could not care if it were he
who killed Almonte and his peers.
This Count d'Anglant of whom you speak:
I've never heard his name before."
Ranaldo did not answer her,
since other things were on his mind.
He saw ride down the mountainside
six barons, with Orlando first,
who's terrible when merely seen,
his movements sharp, his bearing fierce.
The queen observed and said, "That one
who's riding out in front looks strong."
Astolfo told her, "Not to worry!
The other fights you’ve had are jokes.
He is the peak of strength and boldness,
but I say he’s a squint-eyed rogue.
If you want, you can fight him first;
Ranaldo will go second; I'll
be third. Don't worry: you will fall
on earth, but I will save you all!"
Marfisa said, "I'm sorry, truly,
I cannot battle with that boy
because I've got another duel.
But on my faith, I promise you,
if they don't kill or capture me,
I will assay what he can do."
So they spoke, and their words were vain,
for Count Orlando reached the plain.
He reached the meadow's edge and set
in place his lance's heavy shaft.
Aquilant moved on his right hand.
Grifòne rode along his left.
King Trufaldino, whose face paled
from fear, along with strong Chiaròn
and Adriano also spurred
his charger and he gripped his spear.
Marfisa moved to meet them as
Ranaldo fewtered his large shaft;
Prasildo and Iroldo had
great force; Torindo and Astolfo
bore heavy lances and rode fast.
The joust began, sharp, violent,
and I will tell you how they hit
in turn, and everything they did.
Marfisa charged at Aquilant:
Each seemed a column made of rock,
such specimens of physical
prowess that neither was pitched forward
or bent back as their spears were shattered.
Astolfo, meanwhile, went full tilt
and aimed his spear of solid gold
at Trufaldino as he rode.
But as the two of them drew close,
that wicked Trufaldino swerved,
for he knew all the tricks, and reached
out from the side, that evil thorn
(Turpino writes this in his book),
to strike Astolfo with such force,
courage and strength could not prevent
his landing heavily on earth.
Let's leave Astolfo on the ground.
I want to follow others now
because the whole war must be told:
Prasildo met King Hadrian;
Chiaròne charged against Iroldo.
The keenest eye could not discern
which one of those four cavaliers
was best, as each destroyed his spear.
Torindo felt Grifone’s force,
and he flew cleanly off his horse.
Valiant Orlando and Amone's
strong son converged with violence.
Each thought he'd knock the other down.
Now listen to what's strange and new:
The good Baiardo recognized
its master when it saw Ranaldo.
Orlando'd won him, as I told you,
after he killed King Agrican,
and that horse, as if he could think,
had no desire to go against
Ranaldo, so he swerved, despite
Orlando, to avoid the clash.
The Count's lance to his saddle slipped.
Ranaldo rammed Orlando's hip.
He almost launched him from his horse.
No one who saw him then could say
how high Orlando's fury soared,
since when a storm at sea howls loudest,
when lightning with its largest bolt
strikes earth, or when an earthquake roars,
it's nothing to the boundless anger
the Count on that occasion showed.
That cavalier could see no light,
but his eyes looked like dancing fires,
and he ground tooth on tooth so hard
the gnashing could be heard for miles.
His nose exhaled air of such heat,
it seemed that was flame he breathed.
I don't need to describe him further.
He stabbed that good steed with both spurs.
At the same time, he yanked the reins,
believing he would turn Baiardo,
but the horse moved no more or less
than if it stood to graze on grass.
And when Ranaldo saw this pass,
he yelled to tell Orlando, "Noble
cousin, you know how God, who's true,
hates all injustice, all transgression.
"Where have you left the spotless heart,
the noble soul you had in France,
where you defended what was good
and were the enemy of fraud?
Dear Count, I'm very much afraid
that you have changed to evil ways,
and that a meretricious witch
has torn your heart up by its roots.
"Do you want them to know at court
that you have fought to save a traitor?
It would be better you were dead
than have that mark upon your head!
Please, mighty knight, leave Trufaldino,
and leave the false love of that whore,
because in truth—I tell no lie—
I don't know which degrades you more."
Orlando said, "Here is a thief
who's just become a preaching priest:
Now all the flock can sleep secure,
knowing the wolf is tending sheep!
You offer me fine reasons why
I should not love Angelica,
but one should look to his own sin
before condemning other men.
"I did not come to bandy words,
for I'm not any good at that,
and nothing makes me more upset.
Do me the worst that you can do
because the sun won't set today
before I make you suffer pain
for the disloyal, vicious speeches
you have just made about my lady."
So they spoke. Each kept to his side.
Orlando did not dare dismount:
Before he could have reached the ground,
Baiardo would have run away.
During the lengthy stretch of time
when both of them refrained from striking,
Ranaldo had a look around
and found false Trufaldin in sight.
He'd knocked Astolfo to the plain,
and from his charger struck the duke,
who parried him with sword in hand.
Ranaldo rode and he was seen
by Trufaldin, that villain, whose
soul was devoid of every virtue,
and he flew from Amone's son
just as a pigeon flees a hawk.
As Trufaldino ran, he screamed,
"Help me! Help me, bold cavaliers!"
He held them to the vows they'd made
and certainly had need of aid
because the prince was on his heels.
All of the other warriors
abandoned their encounters to
cut off Amone's son's pursuit.
Orlando did not follow them
since he could not, as I have said,
control Baiardo, but Grifòne
reached Trufaldino just in time.
However, when Ranaldo saw
the knight approach, he turned at once
and gave Grifòn a backhand that
so stunned him he lost consciousness.
Ranaldo did not hesitate.
He followed Trufaldino through
the plain, where flight could be no use
with Rabicano in pursuit.
King Trufaldino’d neared his doom
when Hadrian attempted rescue.
Ranaldo, though, struck with such force
his blow knocked Hadrian to earth.
All this time, Trufaldino fled,
a good half-mile before Ranaldo,
but Rabicano followed him
as if with wings instead of hooves.
Ranaldo reached that traitor, but
Aquilant cut him off (he had
come from the side) and they fought wildly
until Ranaldo hit his head.
The prince drove Aquilante in
a daze back on his charger's rump.
Trufaldin had not left his sight,
but now Chiaròne joined the fight:
Ranaldo swung so strong a blow
it knocked him from his saddlebow.
Then he rushed after Trufaldino,
and he rode faster than an arrow.
While he was chasing down that villain,
Orlando and Marfisa fenced
because the Count could guide Baiardo
easily in Ranaldo's absence.
Both jousted solidly, and no
preeminence was evident
although Orlando moved with caution:
He did not trust his steed at all.
Therefore, he battled carefully,
slowly, employing every art
to spare himself, and, while still spry
he called for rest and drew aside.
As the Count looked around the field,
he noticed Brandimarte: He
was truly rapturous to see
the man with Brigliador, his steed.
He rode to meet him instantly.
Each one recounted misadventures,
and they decided, finally,
that Brandimart, whose arms were wrecked,
would go back to the citadel
and lead Baiardo to protection.
Valiant Orlando sought no further
rest and he mounted Brigliador.
The lord d'Anglante's pause was over,
and now he galloped with great ruin,
challenging with proud words and threats
the strong queen to a duel of death.
They spurred their chargers toward each other,
determined to be killed or conquer:
I'll tell you all about it soon,
but Trufaldino has been captured.
Ranaldo caught the villain near
the fortress, and he let him live,
but not to take him prisoner:
He tied him to prevent escape,
his head down and his legs in the air,
tethered him to his horse's tail,
then raced around the field and shouted,
"Who will defend the traitor now?"
Daring Grifòn had just revived,
Hadrian and Chiaròn had mounted,
and when they heard the prince exclaim,
they followed him across the plain.
But he rode off so rapidly
those cavaliers pursued in vain.
Rabican galloped fast, as if
his tail were not attached to weight.
And still Ranaldo shouted out,
"Where are those men who were so brave,
a single knight was not enough—
but they would keep the world away?
Here's Trufaldino! Don't you mind
that I will make you watch him die?
If someone wants to be assigned
as his protector, come untie him!"
Thus the knight boldly challenged them
as he was dragging that condemned,
already half-dead Trufaldino,
who bumped his head on every stone.
The field was smeared with blood along
the places where Ranaldo rode,
and Trufaldino flesh hung torn
on every jagged rock and thorn.
That's how the wicked villain perished,
and truly he deserved his fate,
since he was false and treacherous,
just as this history relates.
The siege of Albraca continues in the main story of Orlando Innamorato.
The complete translation is forthcoming in late 2003 from Parlor Press.
Title Page | Introduction | Start | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | End
Matteo Maria Boiardo
Trans. Charles Ross
©
2003 by Parlor Press
