III: the magic cave of ass-kissing

Canto III

In the longest authorial aside so far, Ariosto asks for divine inspiration to help him do his story justice. Although he and his heroes are nominally Christian, it's the Renaissance, so he'll take whatever kind of divinity he can get: Phoebus Apollo for instance. The poet is on a prophetic mission to tell the world about the great race of heroes who happen to be his patron's ancestors. (Ippolito thinks: I knew we were awesome, but I had no idea we were that awesome.)

Back to Bradamante, lying stunned in a cave. Pinabello is sure he's killed her and he departs, stealing her horse; Ariosto assures us that he'll come to a bad end.

But it's not just a cave; there's a passage to a new fantastic setting:

A spacious room, it seemed like a revered
And hallowed church, much sanctified by prayer,
And by the skill of architecture reared

On alabaster columns choice and rare;
And at the very central point appeared

An altar where a lamp burned bright and fair.

She's met by a woman in plain dress (in contrast to the imaginary lady of “fair aspect and … costly gown” that Pinabello claimed to have seen in the cave)— Melissa, although her name isn't given for a while— who greets her by name and introduces what sounds like a crazy new layer to the story:

… I had recognizance
Of your predestined journey to this shrine,
For Merlin said, in a prophetic trance …

Yes, Merlin. This is an Arthurian romance, sort of. Merlin however does not not appear, since the legend requires him to stay sleeping in living death in his cave (here relocated to France):

His spirit with his corpse will ever dwell
Until the trumpet on the Day of Doom

Shall summon it to Heaven or to Hell,
When a dove's form, or raven's, it assume.
Alive, too, is his voice. Clear as a bell
You'll hear it issue from the marble tomb …

The prophecy, introduced in Merlin's voice and continued by Melissa (who's in effect his intern), goes on for 42 verses— more than half of this canto. However, it's not really the cool magic subplot you might be hoping for. It consists entirely of a list of the illustrious men who will be Bradamante's and Ruggiero's descendants for the next 700 years, and a summary of the great deeds they'll do… leading up of course to Ippolito, whose greatest deed was paying for the poem.

(The translator's introduction clarifies that Ippolito was not so much the harmless rich dim bulb I've imagined him as, but more of an insanely well-connected (appointed as archbishop at age 18) horrible thug, who once was so annoyed by a lady liking his brother more than him that he had one of the brother's eyes put out. Ariosto even mentions some of his victims in this scene, vaguely, just to say that they deserved it.)

It's just pandering filler; there's not enough space to make these hundreds of non-characters interesting, and Ariosto describes their deeds so briefly that he must have assumed Ippolito either knew all those stories or didn't really care. But the fantasy setup of the scene is still striking, full of evocative visuals, and an interestingly ambiguous attitude toward “good” magic, as Melissa conjures up a huge crowd of semi-demonic spirits to illustrate her story: they fill the room ominously, pressing up against her protective circle, even as they're playing the roles of history's greatest heroes. The rest of the scene can't live up to that, although in its sheer length and hyperbole, it's got to be one of the most audacious feats of brown-nosing in literary history.

Finally concluding this commercial interlude, Melissa returns to the subject at hand: rescuing Ruggiero from the steel castle and its sorcerous ruler. To get past the dazzling shield and other hazards, Bradamante will need a particular magic ring. It has two powers: protecting against all spells when it's worn, and making you invisible when it's held in your mouth.

Melissa hasn't got the ring. It's with a Saracen knight, Brunello, who happens to be going the same way and for basically the same reason: he's off to rescue Ruggiero, sent by King Agramante of the Moors (word certainly travels fast). But, Melissa explains, this won't do, since Brunello's not really up to the task and also he's ugly. So here's what to do: pretend to team up with him, then kill him and swipe the ring. We seem to have left chivalry behind for now.

Bradamante finds Brunello at an inn and, as they start to negotiate with mutual wariness and she waits for the right moment to stab him in the back, there's a loud noise. What is it? Tune in tomorrow.

II: fight and flight

Canto II

Ariosto reflects briefly on the unfairness of love, then returns to the fight where we left off. Rinaldo is on foot and Sacripante is on horseback, but the horse he's on used to be Rinaldo's and feels belatedly loyal to him; in a nice comedy bit, Sacripante

tries to urge it on: the horse stops dead.
He tugs the rein: it breaks into a trot;

Then suddenly it checks and ducks its head,
Arches its back and with its hoofs kicks out.

He finally realizes the horse is not an advantage and dismounts. In an intense high-speed swordfight, Rinaldo breaks Sacripante's sword and also his arm. Angelica, watching, realizes Rinaldo is winning and will go after her next, so she flees again.

She's not alone for long: here's a kindly old hermit, who happens to also be a magician. Angelica asks for help in getting out of France, preferably by sea. The hermit's well-intentioned but not directly helpful response is to conjure up a genie, which flies back to where the knights are still fighting vigorously (Sacripante is presumably fighting with his feet) and tells them they'd best run off the other way: Angelica is with Orlando, heading for Paris. (This is a lie, but we haven't really seen Orlando yet and have no idea where he is.) Rinaldo swears and gallops away— on his own horse, finally.

Speaking of the horse, Ariosto finally clarifies that Baiardo isn't as fickle as he seemed: he's actually been leading Rinaldo all over the place in an attempt to reunite him with Angelica. A smart horse, in fact so smart that he understands the genie's story; but a trusting horse, so he's fooled by it too.

Rinaldo gets to Paris, but before he can find out that Angelica was never there, Charlemagne reminds him that he's still supposed to be in the army and sends him on a mission to England. Next thing he knows, he's on a ship from Calais and it's caught in a terrible storm. And Ariosto once again points out his cliffhangery narrative methods:

But many threads are needed for my tale

And so, to weave my canvas as I please,
I'll leave Rinaldo and the plunging prow,
And turn to talk of Bradamante now.

We learn that the warrior maid is Rinaldo's sister (another character borrowed from Orlando Innamorato). No military glass ceiling here; Bradamante is famous and universally respected. And the love of her life— although they've only met once, and they're on opposite sides of the war— is our other top-billed hero, Ruggiero.

After humiliating Sacripante in Canto I (he “kissed our ancient mother,” i.e. the dirt), she's on her way to nowhere in particular, when she meets a weeping knight by a creek: Pinabello. Unlike the previous sad knight, this one seems to be a decent guy. He tells her his story, and it's a good one.

Pinabello's girlfriend has been abruptly abducted by someone on a flying horse. He follows them to a rocky valley, surrounding an unclimbable spire, upon which is a huge castle all made of steel:

From far away it seemed to glow like flame.
No glaze, no marble, has such radiance.
When nearer to the shining work I came

And saw the marvel of its walls, at once

I knew that demon masons of ill fame

With incense, exhalations and weird chants

Had clad the castle walls with finest steel,
Forged in the fires and cooled in streams of Hell.

And he's not the only adventurer on the scene: Ruggiero and another knight, Gradasso, guided by an anonymous dwarf, are also on the trail of the aerial bandit,

the castle's owner, who,
Clad in full armour, travels through the sky
Aboard a bird-like quadruped, a new,
Unheard-of means of transport.

These two promise to rescue the lady, and Pinabello watches from a safe distance (hmm, maybe not such a nice guy after all) as they ride toward the castle and engage its owner. The villain has an effective fighting technique based on diving from a great height and smashing them into the ground again and again, but eventually he gets bored with this and unveils his secret weapon: a magic shield that knocks everyone unconscious with a beam of light. When Pinabello recovers, he's alone.

(Ariosto pauses during the fight scene for another authorial aside: “This is the truth: I added not one jot …. Here fiction is less marvelous than fact.” I imagine Ippolito's jaw dropping as he realizes: It's all true?! So the part about me being descended from Ruggiero and being the coolest guy ever is also true! He hands Ariosto another well-earned sack of gold.)

Back to the present: Bradamante is moved by the story and vows to help, hoping to rescue Ruggiero at the same time. But, as we're now informed, Pinabello is well known by everyone except her (and presumably his girlfriend) to be a treacherous schmuck. When he learns that she's been assigned to the army defending Marseilles, and is therefore an ally of a noble house that he has a grudge against, he decides to betray her somehow as soon as possible.

Distracted by scheming, Pinabello forgets where they're going and gets them lost in the woods. But he spots a cave leading to a deep dark hole, and evil inspiration strikes: telling Bradamante that he thinks he sees a helpless princess trapped in the cave, he gets her to climb part way in, then drops her into the pit. End-of-canto cliffhangers (or cave-floor-hangers) are definitely a regular feature, but this one feels less arbitrary than some: hero loses consciousness, fade to black.