Amadis of Gaul

Chapter 54 [second half]

2012-02-21T10:07:00.000+01:00

[How the Damsel of Denmark arrived bearing Beltenebros's letter.]

["Philosophy Presenting the Seven Liberal Arts to Boethius," attributed to Coëtify Master, about 1460-1470. The women are dressed in the latest fashions of the time.]

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Sir Galaor, Sir Florestan, and Agrajes, armed and on horseback, departed from the King, took Corisanda with them, left London, and went on their way. Gandalin, who was there and saw it all, left immediately for Miraflores and told Oriana and Mabilia, to whom those three companions had send their regards.

Oriana said:

"Now Corisanda is in great pleasure, for she has Sir Florestan in her company, who loves her so much, and may God give her him forever, for she is a very good lady."

She began to sigh, and the tears came to her eyes, and she said:

"Oh Lord God, why do Ye not wish to let me see Amadis for just one day? Oh Lord, either give me that blessing or take me from this world and do not let me live in such anguish and pain."

Gandalin felt very sorry for her but made himself look angry, and he said:

"My lady, do not call me to appear before you, because we are waiting for the good news that God shall send us, and ye wish to make us lose hope."

Oriana wiped the tears from her eyes and said:

"Oh, Gandalin, by God, do not complain! If I could do something, I would do it gladly, for although I may look happy, my heart never stops weeping. If it were not for the hope that thy words have given me, I think that I would not have the strength to rise and stand. But now tell me what shall become of my father the King, since he will not have Amadis in that battle."

"My lady," he said, "my lord cannot be so hidden away that something so renowned has not come to his notice. So who can doubt that he would wish to come and put his strength in your service, knowing what would happen to you if your father were to loose? For although ye have forbidden him to appear before you, he shall appear there where he sees that he can serve and achieve pardon for the error that he did not do nor think of doing."

"May it please God to be as thou dost believe," Oriana said.

And as they were speaking, a girl ran in and said:

"My lady, come see the Damsel of Denmark and the rich gifts that she brings you!"

Oriana's heart shook and stopped, and she could not speak. She was disturbed because the Damsel's arrival brought life or death according to the news that she carried.

Mabilia, who saw her thus, told the girl:

"Go and tell the Damsel to come here alone, because I wish to see her privately."

She said this so that no one could see the great sorrow or joy of Oriana, depending on the news that she brought. The girl left and did what she had been told, but as for Mabilia and Gandalin, I tell you that they were faint for not knowing what news the Damsel brought.

The Damsel entered joyfully and with a happy face, knelt before Oriana, gave her the letter that she carried, and said:

"My lady, I bring you news that shall be to your pleasure, and know, my lady, that I have fulfilled all that which ye had asked me to do, just as ye had wished. Read this letter and ye shall see that Amadis wrote it with his own hand."

Oriana took the letter, but her hands shook with such joy that the letter fell from them, and when her heart became more calm, she opened the letter and found the ring that she had ordered Gandalin to bring to Amadis when he fought with Dardan in Windsor, which she immediately recognized and kissed many times. She said:

"Blessed be the hour in which thou wert made, and with such joy and pleasure thou hast traveled from hand to hand."

She put it on her finger. When she saw the humble words in the letter and the great thanks that he had for her, and how he had turned from death to life, her heart felt joy, and she raised her hands and said:

"Oh Lord of the world, Who helps in all things, blessed be You for helping me at this time and freeing me from death, which was so close!"

She had the damsel sit in front of her and told her:

"My friend, now tell me what ye found, and the days ye were with him, and where ye left him."

The damsel told how she had looked for him, and how she was returning very sadly without any news when a great storm overcame her at sea and made her dock at Poor Rock, where she found him. And she told what had happened to him there and the great pleasure Oriana's letter had given him. She told where she had left him and how he awaited her orders. But when the Damsel came to tell how he had come so close to death and how he was so unlike himself that she could recognize him only by the scar on his face, and how he had changed his name, and how Durin had spent three days with him and had not recognized him, Oriana felt great sorrow and pity for him.

And when everything had been told, Oriana said:

"By God, my friend, the orders have to be sent right away. Tell me how to do it."

"I shall tell you," she said. "I knowingly left two jewels there that I was carrying, so that we will have to send Durin back for them, and he can carry your orders."

"Ye did well," she said, "and now, in front of everyone in the castle, give me the gifts that ye bring and say that ye have forgotten the ones for Mabilia, just as ye have said."

Then they told the Damsel what Corisanda had said about him, and how he had called himself Beltenebros, but she did not recognize him nor learn who he was.

"It is true that he is called that," the Damsel said, "and he said that he shall not change his name back until he sees you and ye tell him to do so."

And they also told her how they had the keys to the gates of the garden, and they called Durin and showed him where to bring Beltenebros when he came, and they ordered him to go get him immediately. But they did not have to work hard to persuade him, for he was still very sorry for the misfortune he had brought Amadis, which had almost meant death for him, and Durin thought that now he could make amends and correct everything, which gave his heart great joy. He kissed Oriana's hands for ordering it.

And then he concurred that Mabilia, in front of everyone in the castle, would ask him to go get those gifts, and he would agree to it very reluctantly, as if it were a great burden, so that no one would suspect anything about his trip. That is what they did, and when they asked him, he showed how much it bothered him, and he angrily said to Mabilia:

"I tell you, my lady, that I go only because they are yours, and if they were for the Queen or Oriana, I would not go, for it was hard traveling on this road."

Mabilia thanked him, and Oriana told him:

"My friend Durin, although ye have served us well, ye would not wish to complain about the service that ye did in such a way that ye would not be thanked for it."

"Yes, I shall when ye order me to serve you," he said, "for I well believe that your thanks are worth as little as my service."

They all laughed at the anger that Durin showed and how he had responded, and he said to Mabilia:

"My lady, since ye wish me to go, I want to leave immediately tomorrow."

Then he said goodbye to them and left with Gandalin to sleep in town, and Gandalin asked him to bring his regards to Enil, his cousin, and to ask him to come to see him if he could, for he had to speak to him about some things, and to ask him that as long as he was traveling with that knight, to seek news of Amadis. He sent this message so that Amadis could travel better disguised, and because if Enil wished to leave him, then he would have a reason to see Gandalin.

Speaking of this, they arrived in London, and the next morning Durin mounted his palfrey to go to where he had left Beltenebros, but first he made sure to learn all the news of the court so that he could recount it.
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Chapter 54 [first half]

2012-02-07T09:42:00.000+01:00

How, while King Lisuarte was lingering over the dinner table, an unfamiliar knight entered fully armed and challenged the King and all his court, and what Florestan did with him, and how Oriana was consoled and Amadis was found.

["Portrait of a Knight" by Vittore Carpaccio, 1520. It is housed in the Thyssen-Bornemisza Museum in Madrid.]

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King Lisuarte was lingering at the dinner table after the tablecloths had been removed because Sir Galaor and Sir Florestan and Agrajes, who were going to leave with Corisanda, wanted to say goodbye to him. An unfamiliar knight, fully armed except for his head and hands, entered the doorway of the palace with two squires. He carried a letter with five seals in his hand, and he knelt and gave it to the King, saying:

"Read that letter and then I shall say why I have come."

The King read it, and seeing that it gave its bearer credence, he told him:

"Now ye may say what ye wish."

"King," the knight said, "I challenge thee and all thy vassals and friends on behalf of Famongomadan, the giant of the Boiling Lake, and on behalf of Cartadaque, the Giant of the Forbidden Mountain, and Madanfabul, his brother-in-law, the giant of the Vermilion Tower, and Sir Cuadragante, the brother of King Abies of Ireland, and Aracalaus the Sorcerer. And I am ordered to tell thee that you hast in them death, both thee and all those who call themselves thine. They would have thee know that they, with all their great friends, shall oppose thee and shall aid King Cildadan in the battle that thou hast set with him.

"But if thou wouldst give thy daughter Oriana to Madasima, the very beautiful daughter of Famongomadan, to be her damsel and serve her, they shall not oppose thee, but shall wed Oriana with Basagante, his brother, when the time comes. He is such a lord that thy lands and hers shall be well-employed by him. And now, King, consider what shall be best for thee: either the peace that they wish, or the most cruel war that could come to thee against such able men."

The King replied laughing, as one who held the challenge as minor, and told him:

"Knight, better a dangerous war than a dishonorable peace, and I would give the Lord a bad repayment for placing me so high if, for a lack of courage, I were to be intimidated and lower myself so dishonorably. Now ye may go, and tell them I would prefer war every day of my life and in the end to die rather than give them the peace they seek. Tell me where my knight may find them so that they learn my response from him, who shall give it to them."

"At the Boiling Lake," the knight said, "which is on an island named Mongaza, he shall find those whom he seeks, both them and those with whom they shall fight the battle."

"Giants being what they are," the King said, "I do not know if my knight may go and return in safety."

"Do not doubt that," he said, "for where Sir Cuadragante is, nothing unjust may be done, and I shall see to it myself."

"In the name of God," said the King. "Now tell me what your name is."

"My lord," he said, "my name is Landin and I am the nephew of Sir Cuadragante, son of his sister. We have come to this land to avenge the death of King Abies of Ireland, and we regret that we cannot find the man who killed him, nor do we know if he is dead or alive."

"That may be so," the King said, "but may it please God to have ye know soon that he is alive and sound, and that all shall go well."

"I understand why ye say that," Landin said, "because ye believe him to be the best knight that ye have ever seen. But whatever I may be, ye shall find me in the battle between you and King Cildadan, and there my good and ill works shall be made manifest in the greatest harm I can cause to you."

"I am very sorry," the King said, "for I would rather have you in my service, but I am sure that in the end ye shall not lack for someone to fight against."

"Nor shall they lack for opponents who shall fight unto death," the knight said.

When Sir Florestan heard this, he became quote upset, because that knight had dared to say he was searching for his brother Amadis, and he told him:

"Knight, I am not of this land nor a vassal of the King, so none of what ye have said matters between you and I, and I shall say nothing about it because in this court there are others who could speak and act better than me. But I speak because ye say that ye have sought Amadis and have not found him, which I believe is not to your loss. I am his brother, Sir Florestan, and if ye wish to fight me, on the condition that if ye are defeated, ye shall end your quest, and if I am killed, your anger and shame shall be satisfied. I shall do this because as sad as ye feel about King Abies, that and much more would Amadis feel at my death."

"Sir Florestan," Landin said, "well I see that ye have a taste for battle, but I fear that I cannot, for I must return with the answer to this message by a set day, and those lords have made me pledge that I shall become involved in no other confrontation. But if I leave that battle alive, I have a date set with you."

"Landin," Sir Florestan said, "ye speak like a good and honorable knight, for those with messages like yours must deny their own will to obey that of those whose wills they carry out, because otherwise, although ye may satisfy your honor, ye would be dishonored by tarrying in your responsibility, so I hold what ye say to be proper."

He gave his gauntlets to the King as a sign of agreement, and Landin gave the skirt of his coat of mail, and both agreed that they would fight thirty days after the battle between the kings. Then the King ordered a knight whom he had raised named Filispinel to accompany Landin and go to challenge those who had challenged him.

Once those knights had left, the King remained speaking with Sir Galaor and Florestan and Agrajes and many other knights who were in the palace, as ye heard, and he told them:

"I want ye to see something that ye will enjoy."

Then he ordered his daughter Leonoreta and all her little damsels be called to dance as they had often done but which he had ceased to ask for after he had heard the news that Amadis was lost. The King told her:

"Daughter, sing the song that Amadis wrote for your love as your knight."

The girl, with the other little damsels, began to sing, and the words were:

Leonoreta, fine rosette,
whiter than any other flower,
may your love, fine rosette,
never cause me any sorrow.

With such ill fate I in madness
have now fallen
by loving you, in madness
I still remain
and cannot find a way to flee.
Oh, your beauty without par
gives me so much pain so sweet.

Of all the others that I view
I have no wish
to serve another besides you
and though my desire now appears
to be in vain
I can no longer leave this place
And since I cannot escape
from being in your duty
may your love, fine rosette,
never cause me any sorrow.

Even though my complaint may seem
to be concerning you, my lady
yet another is the winner
yet another is the killer
she for whom my life would fail.
It is she who has the power
to declare a total war on me.
It is she who can do this
though I do not deserve that fate
so dead beneath the earth I live.

I want you to know why Amadis composed this carol for Princess Leonoreta. He was talking with Queen Brisena, when Oriana and Mabilia and Olinda told Leonoreta to tell Amadis that he was her knight and should serve her well and look at no other woman. She went to him and said what they had told her to say. Amadis and the Queen heard it and laughed heartily, and Amadis took her in his arms and sat her on the estrado and told her:

"Since ye wish me to be your knight, give me some jewel to recognize that I hold myself to be yours."

She took a clip from her hair with some precious stones and gave it to him. They all began to laugh to see how the girl had taken their joke as truth, and Amadis, as her knight, wrote her the carol that ye have heard. And when she and her damsels sang it, they all wore garlands on their heads and dresses of rich fabric like Leonoreta's, and she was extremely beautiful, but not as much as Oriana, who had no par in the world. In time, as shall be told further on, Leonoreta became Empress of Rome.

She had twelve little damsels, all daughters of dukes and counts and other great lords, and they sang that carol so well and so prettily that the King and all his knights felt great pleasure to hear it.

And after they had sung, the Princess and damsels knelt before the King, then went to where the Queen was. Sir Galaor and Sir Florestan and Agrajes told the King they wanted to leave with Corisanda and asked for permission, and he took them aside in the hall and said:

"My friends, in all the world none give me courage like you, and the date for my battle is nearing. It must be in the first week of August, and ye have heard who the men are who will confront me. They will bring others who are very brave and strong at arms, as well as those who have the nature and blood of giants. So I sincerely ask you not to take on any other fights or quests that may be prevent you from being with me in the battle, for I have serious mortal enemies, and ye would unjustly leave me short-handed. I trust God that with your great skills and those of all the others who will serve me, our enemies shall not be valiant nor strong enough to overcome us, and in the end they shall be defeated and destroyed and shamed by us."

"My lord," they said, "for something as notable and proclaimed everywhere as this shall be, your order and plea is not necessary, for even if we lacked the desire and good will to serve you, we would not lack a real desire to be in that great conflict. Our hearts and wills have traveled through many places and foreign lands looking for one thing, which is to find ourselves in great peril, for by winning we achieve the glory that we desire, and losing we fulfill that for which we were born. So we shall return promptly. Meanwhile, give spirit and courage to your knights so that their great love and affection for you shall turn their weakness into strength."
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Book I now available in print and Kindle

2012-02-02T09:49:00.000+01:00

Trade paperback, 316 pages. And ebook.

Cover art: Suit of armor at the Alcázar of Segovia. Photo by Sue Burke.

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Book I of my translation of Amadis of Gaul is now on sale in print and Kindle format.

The novel is divided into four books, and Book I is the oldest, written in the early 1330s. It starts with Amadis's birth out of wedlock. While still a boy, he falls hopelessly in love with Princess Oriana of Great Britain, and to win her love, he becomes a knight and embarks on a series of perilous adventures — rescuing damsels, kings, and kingdoms. Interwoven with these feats are the stories of Amadis's two brothers, their friends in arms, and their mortal enemies.

This edition includes:

• a preface by José Miguel Pallarés, a Spanish writer, who tells how he discovered the novel as a boy by sneaking into a locked room in his family home in a medieval town in Spain — one of the best memories of his childhood.

• an introduction providing background to the book, what inspired it, who wrote it, and how it became Europe's first best-seller.

• notes to selected chapters to help the modern reader understand some of the historic references in the text.

• an appendix discussing the relationship of Amadis of Gaul and Don Quixote de la Mancha, and the reasons why Amadis, once the favored reading of kings and emperors, disappeared as if by magic from the inventories of the libraries of Spanish noble families and fell into oblivion — but it wasn't due to Don Quixote.

Amadis of Gaul Book I at Amazon:
http://www.amazon.com/Amadis-Gaul-Garci-Rodríguez-Montalvo/dp/1466475714/ref=tmm_pap_title_0
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Chapter 53 [final part]

2012-01-24T11:40:00.000+01:00

[How Oriana came to Miraflores Castle and received help from Gandalin and Mabilia.]

[Garden in the Alcazaba of Málaga, Spain. The Alcazaba was built in the 11th century as a fortress-palace for the governors of the city. Photo by Cindy Van Vreede.]

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Sir Grumedan arranged everything that the King had ordered, and before day broke, he took Oriana and the other women and they arrived early in the morning at Miraflores. When Oriana saw the place so delightful and fresh with flowers and roses, and with channels and fountains of water, her troubled and tormented spirit felt great rest, trusting the mercy of God to bring there he who would save her life, for without him she could not escape cruel death.

When she arrived, she sent word to Adalasta, the abbess of the convent, to deliver the keys to the castle and to the doorways that led to a beautiful garden within it. Oriana gave them to the guards that her father had sent and ordered them to lock the gates and doors every night and give them to the abbess to keep.

When Oriana found herself in such a delectable place, she raised her hands to Heaven and said to herself:

"Oh, Amadis, my beloved, this is the place where I want to have you with me always, and I shall not leave here until I see you. And if this for some reason cannot be, here my loneliness for you shall kill me. Therefore, my beloved, save me with your discretion and help me, for I am dying. And if in times past ye came to me when I needed you and ye never failed me, now more than ever I need you and I beg and order you to help me and free me from death. My good friend, do not delay, and I order you by the lordship that I have over you."

And so she spent a while faint and speaking to Amadis, as if she had him in front of her. But Mabilia took her by the hands and had her sit on an estrado she had ordered placed next to a beautiful fountain. And from there she went to her apartments, which had very richly decorated rooms and a small patio in front of the door to her room shaded by three trees, so that the sun could not shine on it.

Oriana said to Mabilia:

"Know that I ordered the keys to be brought to us by day, because I want Gandalin to make us copies, for if by my good fortune Amadis were to come, we can bring him here into the garden through the doors."

"Ye have thought this through well," Mabilia said.

So they relaxed and rested that day and night, although they awaited the Damsel of Denmark anxiously. The next day Gandalin arrived, and the gatekeeper told Mabilia that the squire wished to speak with Oriana.

Oriana said:

"Open the gate for Gandalin, who is a very good squire and who was brought up with us, and in addition he is the milk brother of Amadis, may God keep him from harm."

"May God do so," said the gatekeeper, "for it would be a great loss and harm to the world if such a good and virtuous knight and master at arms were to be lost."

"Thou speakest the truth," Oriana said, "and now go and let Gandalin enter."

And turning to Mabilia she said:

"My friend, do ye not see how Amadis is loved and esteemed by everyone, even by simple men who know little?"

"I see it well," Mabilia said.

"Then what shall I do," she said, "except to die for he who is so loved and appreciated by all, and who loved me and esteemed me more than himself, for I was the cause of his death? Cursed be the hour in which I was born, for by my madness and vile suspicion I did such injustice!"

"Let that be," Mabilia said, "and have hope, for what ye are doing will not solve the situation."

And at this Gandalin entered, and he was well received by them. Oriana had him sit next to her and told him how she had sent the Damsel of Denmark with a letter for Amadis, and what was in it, and she said to him:

"Does it seem to thee, Gandalin, that he might wish to forgive me?"

"My lady, ye have a good cause," he said. "It seems to me that ye do not know his heart well, for, by God, at the least word that comes in a letter, he would have himself buried alive if ye ordered it. He would be even more willing to come at your command, especially if it were brought by the Damsel of Denmark. And my lady, I am very happy about what ye have told me, for if everyone were to look for him, they would not be as successful as the Damsel of Denmark alone, for although he had wished to hide from me, I do not think that he would wish to show himself to anyone else. And my lady, with hope that she will bring you good news, do not fail to lead a better life, so that if he comes, he will not see you so far removed from your beauty, or he might flee you."

Oriana was very pleased by what Gandalin had told her, and she said, laughing:

"What? Do I look so ugly to thee?"

And he said:

"If ye seemed as ugly to yourself, ye would hide where no one could see you."

"Well, because of that," she said, "I came here to stay in my castle, so if Amadis were to come and then wished to take flight, he could not."

"I wish I could see him in this prison," Gandalin said, "and freed from the other one where you love holds him."

Then they showed him the keys and told him to have copies made so that if his lord came, as he hoped, Oriana could immediately comply with what her letter said and let him in there with her. Gandalin took them and went to London and brought back a second set just like them, with no difference among them except that the first set was old and the second set new.

Mabilia showed the keys to Oriana and told her:

"My lady, these are the means by which he can be with you, he who could not live without you. And now that we have supped and all the people of the castle are resting, let us go try them."

"Let us go," Oriana said, "and may it please God by His mercy that these keys shall correct the damage that my thoughtlessness has done."

Holding hands, they went alone in the dark to the doors that ye have heard of in the castle that led to the garden, and when they were near the first one, Oriana said:

"By God, my friend, I am dead with fear, and I cannot go on with you."

Mabilia took her by the hand and said, laughing:

"Fear nothing. Where I go I shall protect you, for I am the cousin of the best knight in the world and I am at his service. Follow me without fear."

Oriana could not help laughing, and she said:

"Then I shall go under your protection, and I shall not be afraid, for I have confidence in your great skill at arms."

"Now that ye know what I am," Mabilia said, "let us go forward and ye shall see how this adventure ends, and if I fail you, I swear that for the coming year I shall not put a shield around my neck nor a sword on my belt."

Laughing and holding hands, they arrived at the first doorway, and without a problem it opened, and so did the next, and thus they saw the garden before them.

Oriana said:

"Well, now what? This garden wall is tall and Amadis cannot climb it."

"Do not believe that," Mabilia said, "for I have examined it, and there where the garden wall is next to the castle wall, there is a little corner, and if a beam is put outside and if we give him our hands, he can climb it with little difficulty. Your courage will bring you your reward."

Oriana grabbed her by the veil and knocked her to the ground and they laughed happily for a while, then they turned back and locked the doors and went to sleep. As Oriana was getting into her bed, Mabilia said:

"My lady, may God wish that here ye shall be joined with that poor wretch that is without hope, for he needs it greatly."

Oriana said:

"May it please Him, by His mercy, to take pity on us and him."

"For what is in God's hands," Mabilia said, "have no worries, for He shall put the remedy at your service. Eat and sleep so that your beauty can recover what it has lost, as Gandalin told you."

With that they slept that night more restfully than in previous nights, and when morning came, after hearing Mass, they went to the courtyard with its beautiful fountains, and they found that Gandalin had already arrived, since they had ordered him to come every day from London to see them. They took him with them and went to the patio with the three beautiful trees, and there they told him that the keys were very good, and what Mabilia had said when they tried them, and they all laughed a lot.

He told them what had happened to Amadis when, to comfort him, Gandalin had spoken ill of Oriana, and the rage that it had caused and how Amadis had almost killed him, and how because of that, when Gandalin was sleeping, he had hidden Gandalin's saddle and reins and left him alone on the mountain, and Gandalin had been unable to learn anything more about Amadis.

"And, my lady," he said, "since I had told him such a great lie about you, I received the punishment I deserved, for when I woke up and found that he had left without me, if he had left me any weapons, without a doubt I would have killed myself."

Oriana told him:

"Oh, by God, Gandalin! Say no more, for I am sure he loves me. Ye are breaking my heart without meaning to, and if life or death comes to me with good or bad news, and I want it whole, without more of the anguish and pain that has overcome me in the past."
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Chapter 53 [middle part]

2012-01-10T11:29:00.000+01:00

[Of the doubt and anguish between Gandalin and Oriana, and their reconciliation.]

[The fortified medieval tower of the church of Miraflores de la Sierra, a town in a valley of the Guadarrama Mountains north of Madrid. Miraflores means "look at the flowers." Photo by the Municipality of Miraflores.]

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Miraflores Castle was two leagues from London, and it was small, but the most delightful lodging in that land. It lay in a forest at the foot of a mountain and was surrounded by orchards full of fruit and other large groves of trees, and among them were plants and flowers of all types. The castle was wonderfully made and, inside, it had richly decorated halls and rooms, and in its patios, many water fountains and delightful shady trees that bore fruit and flowers all year.

One day the King had been there hunting and brought the Queen and his daughter with him, and because he saw that his daughter loved the castle for its beauty, he had told her it was hers. In front of the gate, at the distance of an arrow shot from a crossbow, there was a convent of nuns, which Oriana had ordered built after the castle had become hers, and it held women who had taken holy vows.

Oriana spoke with the King and Queen that night and asked them for permission go there for a while, which they willingly granted.

While the King was at the dinner table, with Sir Galaor and Agrajes and Sir Florestan next to him, he told them:

"I have faith in God, my good friends, that soon we shall have news about Amadis, because I have sent thirty of the best knights of my court to look for him. And if they do not bring him back, ye may take as many of my knights as ye wish and go to look where ye believe it would be best. But I ask that ye do this after a long-delayed battle I will have with King Cildadan of Ireland, who is a king well-esteemed at arms and who is married to a daughter of King Abies, whom Amadis killed. The battle shall be one hundred against one hundred."

The battle's cause was the tribute that the King of Ireland was obliged to give to the kings of Great Britain, and they had agreed that if the King of Great Britain won, the tribute would be doubled and King Cildadan would be his vassal. But if Cildadan won, he would be free of the tribute forever. From what King Lisuarte had learned about the men who would be his opponents, he was going to need all the members of his court and his friends.

Because of what the King had said, the three companions remained at the court though they did not wish to, for they would rather have returned immediately to look for Amadis, and quite rightly. But they would have suffered great shame not to serve and help the King in a situation so important and with such great danger.

After the tablecloths were lifted, Sir Florestan ordered Gandalin to go to visit Mabilia. He did, and when they saw each other, they could not help but weep. Gandalin told her:

"Oh, my lady, what a great wrong Oriana has done to you and your family, for she took from you the best knight in the world. Oh, how badly used ye were when ye served her, what great injustice ye have received from her, and even more he who has never done nor said any error. Given her treachery, God has misused such beauty and all her other qualities. But from this wrong that she did I well know none shall lose as much as she will."

"Oh, Gandalin," she said, "I beg thee not to say that nor to think it now, for thou art wrong. She did it with great anguish and sorrow because of what she had been told that reasonably made her suspicious. She believed she had been forgotten by thy lord, and that he now dearly loved another. Despite the great anger with which the letter was written and sent, she did not think that it would cause so much harm. And of the error in all this, thou mayst believe that its cause was the excessive and undue love that she has for him."

"Oh, God," Gandalin said, "how could Oriana and ye and the Damsel of Denmark lack good judgement to think that my lord could have committed such an error against she whom he is so terrified to anger that he would rather be buried alive? And what words could these have been that your great judgement and virtue was so disturbed that ye could make the best knight ever born die?"

"Ardian the dwarf," Mabilia said, "thinking to increase the honor of his lord, has caused it."

Then she told him everything that had happened about the sword broken into three pieces, which the first book has recounted.

"And do not think," she said, "that I or the Damsel of Denmark could have done more to try to calm Oriana's anger, who thought that the man whom she loved so much had left her for another. Her heart would never have been at ease until she had sent that letter, which we did not know about, and which has brought us all to the point of death. But thou mayst believe that after she learned from Durin what Amadis did, she has been in such great anguish and pain that this gives us consolation for the sorrow that we have over Amadis."

And while Mabilia was saying all this to Gandalin, Oriana was listening from inside her room and heard all that they said. And when they ceased to speak of it, she came out as if she had heard nothing. When she saw Gandalin, her heart shook and she could not help herself from falling on an estrado, and she said, weeping so hard that she could barely speak:

"Oh Gandalin, may God keep thee and give thee good fortune! Do now what thou must and fulfill what thou art obliged to do."

"My lady," he said weeping, "what do ye order me to do?"

"Kill me," she said, "for I have killed thy lord and thou must avenge his death, as he would avenge yours if someone were to have killed thee."

And at that she was as faint as if her soul wished to leave her. Gandalin felt very sorry and wished he had not come there at all. Mabilia took some water and threw it in her face, and so she came to, sighing and wringing her hands, and she said:

"Oh, Gandalin, why dost thou tarry in doing what thou must? By God, thy father would not hesitate to do what he ought to."

"My lady," Gandalin said, "may God keep me from doing anything disloyal, for if I intended to do so, it would be the greatest treachery in the world. And not just one but two, because ye are my lady and Amadis is my lord, and I know with certainty that after your death, he would not live one hour. I never thought that ye, my lady, would give me such bad counsel, even more because my lord Amadis is not dead. Because despite all the sadness and anguish that your rage caused, by his own hand he may endure that, but his death is in the hand of God, when He believes it is the right time, and if He wished that, He would not have given him such good fortune from the first. And ye, my lady, must believe that a man so distinguished in this world as he is will not be killed unjustly by God."

This and many other things he told her to comfort her, which they did somewhat. And she said:

"My good friend Gandalin, I am going tomorrow to Miraflores, where I wish to wait for life or death, depending on the news I get. And come to see us, for Mabilia shall send for thee, and thou canst relieve my heart from its sadness."

"My lady," Gandalin said, "I shall do that and anything else that ye order."

With that, he left them, and as he passed where the Queen was, she had him called and had him come before her and spoke with him for a long time about Amadis's estate and the great sorrow that she had for him, and tears came to her eyes.

Gandalin said:

"My lady, if ye ache over him, it is rightly so, for he is your fine servant."

"He is a good friend as well," the Queen said, "and a good protector. May God be pleased to bring us good news about him that will give us some consolation."

And as they were speaking, Gandalin saw that elsewhere in the hall Sir Galaor and Florestan and Corisanda were all very happy together, and she seemed the most beautiful lady he had ever seen. He did not know who she was and asked the Queen who such a beautiful lady it was to whom those two brothers spoke with such pleasure. The Queen told him who she was and why she had come to the court and how she loved Sir Florestan, and for his love, she had stayed at the court, waiting for some time.

When Gandalin heard this, he said:

"If she loves him, she may well be praised, for he has within him such virtue and discretion that if she searched the world over, she could find few that equal him at arms. And, my lady, if ye were to know Sir Florestan well, ye would not esteem any knight more than him, for he is well accomplished in the proper use of arms and all other good skills."

"And so it seems," the Queen said, "that of a man whose family has such noble knights of such deeds at arms, it would be a great injustice if he did not resemble them, and even more importantly shared their abilities."

And while the Queen was speaking with Gandalin, Sir Florestan was speaking very lovingly with his beloved. Besides being very beautiful and rich, she loved him so much that she would never give her love to another, and she came from the most noble and high counts of all of Great Britain. He spoke with her and Sir Galaor about how she might return to her land, and how he and Sir Galaor and Agrajes would accompany her for two days, and after he had heard any news about Amadis, and after the battle that King Lisuarte had set, if he were still alive, he would go to her and would live in her lands for a long time.

"May God be pleased to show His mercy," she said, "and protect you and bring you good news about Amadis so that ye may fulfill all that ye have promised, for I am very consoled by it."

Then they went to the King, and Gandalin with them. Since Oriana had asked permission that night from the King and Queen to go the next day to Miraflores, and they had granted it, they ordered Sir Grumedan to leave with her and Mabilia and other ladies and damsels at dawn, take them to the castle, and then to return, leaving the servants that she needed and guards for the gates of the castle.
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Links to the Middle Ages

2012-01-05T09:11:00.000+01:00

Beauty, danger, inspiration, original texts, and a green palace.

Illustration from Vidal Mayor, a legal code written and illuminated in Huesca, Spain, between 1290 and 1310 for King James I of Aragon and Catalonia. Now at the Getty Center in Los Angeles.
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Gothic Grandeur: Manuscript Illumination, 1200–1350
The J. Paul Getty Museum is hosting an exhibit of rare texts to explain the role of illustrations in medieval books. If you can't get to Los Angeles before May 13, visit the website for stunning pictures and mini-lectures.
http://www.getty.edu/art/exhibitions/gothic_grandeur/

Violent knights feared post-traumatic stress
A researcher of medieval violence at the University of Copenhagen has come upon a book by a 14th century knight who wrote about the psychological stress of being a knight. But King Languines told the boy Amadis in Chapter 4, when he asked to be made a knight, "Whoever wants to become one and uphold the honor of the title of knight must do many grave things that will often trouble his heart."
http://sciencenordic.com/violent-knights-feared-posttraumatic-stress

Visit the Winchester Cathedral
For more than a thousand years, pilgrims have come to Winchester Cathedral. The cathedral's website invites you to be transformed and overwhelmed by beauty — a virtual visit with video, music, and photos.
https://winchester-cathedral.org.uk/

Internet Medieval Sourcebook
Part of Fordham University's Internet History Sourcebooks Project, the sourcebook offers a collection of public domain and copy-permitted historical texts presented for educational use. A must for the serious researcher.
http://www.fordham.edu/Halsall/sbook.asp

The Queen goes green
Windsor Castle, the site of many events in Amadis of Gaul, is now powered by a hydroelectric plant. Two 40-ton Archimedes screws in the River Thames began generating electricity on January 1, which Queen Elizabeth buys for the castle — a move that will both save money in these times of austerity and be more environmentally friendly.
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/uknews/queen-elizabeth-II/8966322/Queen-finally-goes-green-as-Windsor-Castle-turns-to-hydroelectric-power.html
Photos of the castle and the turbines:
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/uknews/theroyalfamily/8749107/The-Queen-goes-green-hydroelectric-turbines-arrive-at-Windsor-Castle.html

Chapter 53 [first part]

2011-12-26T10:48:00.000+01:00

How Sir Galaor, Florestan and Agrajes left Firm Island in search of Amadis, and how they traveled a long time without finding any trace of him, so they arrived in complete despair at King Lisuarte's court.

[Tomb of King Juan II of Castile (1406-1454) in Cartuja de Miraflores, a monastery near Burgos. Photo by Ecelan.]

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It has already been told to you how Sir Galaor and Sir Florestan and Agrajes left Firm Island to search for Amadis, and how they traveled through many lands separately, doing great deeds at arms in towns as well as in forests and mountains. But of them there will be no mention because they found nothing, as we have said.

Since at the end of a year they had learned nothing, they turned toward the place where they had agreed to meet, which was a hermitage a half-league from London, the city where King Lisuarte was, thinking that more likely at his court than anywhere else they could hear some news about their brother Amadis, since many diverse people always came there. The first to arrive at the hermitage was Sir Galaor and then Agrajes, and soon Sir Florestan with Gandalin.

When they were all together, they embraced with great pleasure, but when they learned that they had had no success, they began to weep fiercely because if they, with such good fortune in all other thing, had failed at this, then very little remedy and hope remained in the future. But Gandalin, who was no less sorry than any of the others to have lost Amadis, encouraged them to stop weeping, for it would do little or no good, and instead to begin to search again. He reminded them that their lord would do the same for any of them if they were in trouble, and how by losing him, they had lost a brother, the best knight in the world.

And so, taking his advice, they agreed first to go to court to see if they could find any news there, and then to look in every part of the world, on land and sea, until they knew if he was dead or alive.

With that agreement, having heard the Mass that the hermit said for them, they mounted their horses and rode toward London. It was the day of Saint John [June 25], and when they came close to the city, they saw before them the King, who was riding in the country with many knights to honor the day, both to celebrate the saint and because Lisuarte had taken the throne on that day.

When the King saw the three knights, he thought they might be knights-errant, and so he rode toward them, as one who honors and appreciates all such knights. When they saw him coming toward them, they took off their helmets and showed Sir Florestan which one was the King, for he had never seen him before.

When they got closer, many of the King's knights recognized Sir Galaor and Agrajes. Although they did not know Florestan, he seemed very handsome, and so before they arrived they believed he was Amadis. The King thought that his face resembled Amadis's more than any of his brothers.

When they reached the King, they had Florestan ride ahead to do him honor, and the King said to Galaor:

"I understand that this is your brother Sir Florestan."

"Yes he is, my lord," he said.

Florestan wanted to kiss the King's hands, but the King did not want to give them, and instead he embraced Florestan with great love, then the others, and with great pleasure he joined them to ride to the city. Gandalin and the dwarf, who saw them received in the same place where their lord had been received with honors and attention from everyone, felt great sorrow, so much so that the King and all others felt great pity for them and more for their lord, whom they all dearly loved.

The King asked the three companions if they had learned any news about Amadis, but they, with tears in their eyes, told him no, although they had traveled through many lands in search of him. The King consoled them by saying that the things of the world were like that, even for those who tried to protect themselves from great confrontations and danger by fleeing them, and even more so for others whose preference and duty was to seek them out and place their lives at the point of death a thousand times. He said they should place their hope in God, Who would not have given Amadis such good fortune in all things only to forsake him.

The news of the arrival of these knights reached the court of the Queen, and she and all the other women were very happy, especially the beloved of Agrajes, Olinda the Discrete, who already knew that he had successfully completed the test of the arch of loyal lovers, and Corisanda, beloved of Sir Florestan, who was waiting for him there, as has been told to you earlier.

Mabilia, who was very happy with the arrival of her brother Agrajes, went to Oriana, who was in her room sadly reading a book at the window. She told her:

"My lady, go to your mother, for Sir Galaor, Agrajes, and Florestan shall arrive there soon."

She responded weeping and sighing, as if her heartstrings were breaking:

"My dear, where do ye wish me to go, for I am not myself? In fact I am more dead than alive, with my face and eyes marked by tears, as ye see. And besides that, how could I see those knights in the company of whom I used to see my beloved lord Amadis? By God, ye wish to kill me, for this would be harder for me than death."

And then she said, weeping:

"Oh, Amadis, my dearly beloved! What shall this unfortunate wretch do when she does not see you among your brothers and friends, whom ye love so much and with whom ye used to see her? By God, my lord, this loneliness will be the cause of my death. And this shall be just, for I caused both our deaths."

She could not remain standing and fell on an estrado. Mabilia tried to raise her spirits and give her hope that her damsel would bring her good and happy news. Oriana told her:

"If these good knights-errant have searched for him so long and hard and have learned nothing, how shall the damsel, who is only going to one place, find him?"

"Do not think that way," Mabilia said, "For the way he left, he is probably fleeing from everyone, but he will come out of hiding for your damsel and be recognized, for she knows all the secrets of you and him, and can bring him the help that his life needs."

Oriana, somewhat encouraged and consoled by this, got up as best she could and washed her eyes and had Olinda called, and she went with them to where her mother the Queen was. When those three knights saw her, they felt great pleasure, and they went to her and were well received.

The King then said to Sir Galaor:

"See how your friend Oriana is beset and ill."

"My lord," he said, "I am very sorry for it, and rightly we all ought to serve her in whatever can bring her better health."

Oriana told him, laughing:

"My good friend Sir Galaor, God is the one who can remedy all illnesses and fates, and so, if it please Him, He shall help me and you, for ye have suffered such a great loss in losing your brother. May God help me, it would please me very much that the toils and dangers that ye have suffered in looking for him would come to the fruition ye wish, for by you and by him my lord the King has always been well-served."

"My lady," Sir Galaor said, "I have faith in God that we shall soon have good news, for he is not a man to fail before great trouble, and no other knight in the world knows how to maintain himself against all dangers."

Oriana felt greatly consoled by what Galaor had said. She took him and Sir Florestan with her and sat on an estrado, and she found great pleasure in looking at Sir Florestan, who greatly resembled Amadis, but who also made her very lonely for him, so much so that her heart broke.

Mabilia called her brother Agrajes and had him sit between her and Olinda, his beloved, who was very joyful and happy in knowing that for her love he had passed beneath the enchanted arch of lovers. She made him know well that she knew it by the loving reception she gave him, showing him great good will. Agrajes, who loved her more than he loved himself, thanked her with great humility, but he did not kiss her hands so that the secret of their love would not become known.

As they were thus speaking, they heard shouts and noise in the palace, and the King asked what it was. He was told him that Gandalin and the dwarf, when they saw the shield and arms of the famous knight Amadis, mourned deeply, and the other knights were consoling them.

"What," the King said, "is Gandalin here?"

"Yes, my lord," Sir Florestan said. "Fully two months ago I found him at the foot of Sanguin Mountain traveling in search of news about his lord, and I told him that I had already searched the entire mountain and had found nothing, and he agreed to travel with me because I asked him to."

The King said:

"I hold Gandalin to be one of the best squires in the world, and it would be right for us to console him."

Then he rose and went to Gandalin. And when Oriana heard Gandalin spoken of, she lost her color and she could not remain on her feet. But Sir Galaor and Sir Florestan held her up by her hands to go with the King. And Mabilia, who knew why she had fainted, came to her and put Oriana's arm around her neck.

Oriana said to Galaor and Sir Florestan:

"My good and loyal friends, if I do not see you and honor you as I ought, it is due not to my will, but the long illness I am suffering is the cause."

"My lady," they said, "this rightly ought to be believed, and because our great desire is to serve you in all things, it would not be right to believe that we seek some reward from your great virtue and goodness."

They left her and went to follow the King, and Oriana went to her room, where she lay on her bed, wracked with great groans and anguish, for she wished to see and be with him who by her will rather than any reason or agreement had gone away and disappeared. Oriana told Mabilia:

"My true friend, ever since we entered London, I have constantly suffered aches and anguish, so I think it would be good, if you agree, that we should go spend some time at my castle, Miraflores, which is a lovely place to stay. Although I firmly believe that my sad heart can find rest nowhere, there sooner than in another place I grant that it could be found."

"My lady," Mabilia said, "you should do so, both because of that and because if the Damsel of Denmark brings the news that we hope for, you may enjoy the pleasure of it right away and so could he who ought to have it, since he has been so sad. Being here, neither you nor he could enjoy it."

"Oh, by God, my friend," Oriana said, "let us go there at once."

"First," Mabilia said, "you must speak with your father and mother, and since they desire your good health, they will do everything that ye wish."
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Chapter 52

2011-12-13T10:20:00.000+01:00

How the Damsel of Denmark left to search for Amadis, and how by fortune and after much labor, she docked at Poor Rock, where Amadis had the name of Beltenebros, and how they came to see his lady Oriana.

[Illustration from Le recueil des histoires de Troye (The Book of the History of Troy), a French courtly romance written by Raoul le Fèvre in about 1464. Le Fèver was chaplain to Philip III "the Good," Duke of Burgundy. The book is now in the Bibliothèque Nacionale de France.]

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The Damsel of Denmark was with the Queen of Scotland for ten days, not so much because it pleased her but because the sea was stormy and dangerous. In addition, she had not heard news about Amadis in that land, where she had come with much hope to learn something, and she thought that bringing a poor notice to her lady would result in her death.

She bid farewell, gathered the gifts the Queen was sending to Queen Brisena and Oriana and her daughter Mabilia, and took to the sea to return from her errand without good fortune, but not knowing what more to do.

But when people seem to be without hope and aid, the Lord of the world wishes to show something of His power to make it understood to all that no one, no matter how wise or discrete, cannot be helped without His help. He changed her voyage, to the great fear and tribulation of herself and all those in the ship, to give them the end she sought with joy and good fortune.

So it was that the sea became rough, and a storm without comparison befell them. They rode the waves without a rudder or course, with sailors' intuition completely lost, and they had no confidence their lives would be saved. Finally one morning, as dawn broke, they docked at the foot of Poor Rock, which the sailors recognized, and some of them knew of Andalod, the holy hermit who lived in the hermitage at the peak.

They told that to the Damsel of Denmark, and because the danger had passed and certain death had given way to life, she ordered that they take her to the top of the peak so that, hearing Mass from that good man, she could give thanks to the Virgin Mary for the mercy her glorious Son had given them.

At that time, Beltenebros was at the spring below the trees as ye have heard, where he spent the nights, and his health had reached such a point where he did not expect to live two weeks more. From so much weeping and loss of weight, his face was sunken and dark, more than it would have been from a grave illness, and as a result no one could have recognized him.

He looked at the ship for a while and saw that a damsel and two squires were climbing up the peak, but now his thoughts were only in seeking death, and everything that until then he would have taken great pleasure in, such as seeing new people and getting to know them and helping them in their fortune, and anything like it, was abhorred in his great desperation.

He went to the hermitage and said to the hermit:

"It seems people have left a ship and are coming to you."

And he knelt before the altar and prayed, begging God to have mercy on his soul, which soon would be given to His account. The hermit dressed to say Mass, and the Damsel with Durin and Enil entered the door, praying, and then they removed the veil she wore over her face.

Beltenebros, after praying a while, rose and turned toward them, and he recognized the Damsel and Durin. His alteration was so great that he could not remain on his feet and fell on the ground as if dead. When the hermit saw that, he thought Beltenebros was at the final point of his life and said:

"Oh, Lord almighty, why hast Thou not taken pity on this man who could do so much in Thy service?"

Many tears fell down his white beard, and he said:

"Good damsel, have these men help me take this man to his room, for this is the final good deed ye could do for him."

Then Enil and Durin, with the hermit, took him to the house where he stayed and put him in a poor and simple bed, and neither of them recognized him.

The Damsel heard Mass, and wishing to eat on land, for the sea was still rough, happened to ask the hermit who the man was who suffered from such a grave illness. The good man told her:

"He is a knight who is doing penance here."

"His guilt must be great," she said, "if he wished to do it in a place so difficult."

"It is as ye say," he said, "but he does it more for the vain and fleeting things of this world than for service to God."

"I wish to see him," the Damsel said, "for ye tell me that he is a knight, and I can give him some things I bring in the ship that may give him aid."

"Do so," the good man said, "but I believe that his death is so near that it shall save you the trouble."

Alone, the damsel entered the room where Beltenebros was. He was unable to decide what to do, for if he let her recognize him, he would be disobeying his lady, but if not, then she, who was the only remaining help for his life, would leave him with no hope at all if she left without recognizing him. In the end, thinking it worse to anger his lady than to suffer death, decided not to make himself known in any way.

The Damsel came close to the bed and said:

"Good man, according to the hermit ye are a knight, and because damsels are much obliged to all knights for the great dangers in which they place themselves for our defense, I thought to see you and leave everything here from the supplies on the ship that ye need for your health."

He did not respond, yet he sobbed and groaned such that the damsel thought his soul would leave his flesh, and she felt great sorrow. Because there was little light in the room, she opened a small window that was closed and came to the bed to see if he was dead and began to study him, and he her, still weeping and sobbing. She stood there a while but never recognized him because she did not think to find the one she sought in such a place as that.

But when she saw a scar on his face that Arcalaus the Sorcerer had caused with the blade of his lance when he had taken Oriana from him, as has been told to you in the first book, she was reminded of what she had never expected to see there, and she recognized him clearly as Amadis. She said:

"Why, Holy Mary, help me! What is this that I see! Oh, my lord, ye are the one for whom I have made so much effort!"

And she fell on her face against the bed, and knelt and kissed his hands again and again, and told him:

"My lord, now ye must have pity and forgiveness against she who wronged you, whose evil suspicions put you unjustly in such straits. Because of that, she is rightly suffering a life more bitter than death."

Beltenebros took her in his arms and held her without being able to speak. She gave him the letter and said:

"Your lady sent you this, and would have me tell you that if ye are the Amadis that ye were, that she loves you so much that if ye can forget what has passed, soon ye shall be with her in her castle in Miraflores, where with much pleasure she shall made amends. Her overwhelming love for you has caused your pain and anguish."

He took the letter, and after kissing it many times, he put it over his heart and said:

"Oh, tormented heart, for so long and with so much anguish thou has shed so many tears, yet thou hast been able to sustain yourself almost up to the straits of cruel death. Receive this medicine, for nothing else could save thy health. Disperse these clouds of great gloom that up to now have covered thee. Take strength in how thou canst serve thy lady to prepay her mercy for taking thee from death."

Then he opened the letter to read it, and it said:

Letter from Oriana to Amadis

"If great errors done with enmity are worthy to be pardoned when they are changed into humility, then what shall become of those that were caused by an excess of love? Even so, my true beloved, I admit that I do not deserve much pity. Just as one ought to consider that in prosperity and happiness lie the reversals of fortune to place one in poverty, I rightly ought to have considered your discretion and your honesty, which up until now have never erred in anything. And above all my sad heart surrenders, for it is nothing unless it is enclosed by yours, and if it senses that by chance some of your ardor has cooled, mine has been the cause for which the mortal desires that it desires have subsided.

"But I erred as those women whose good fortune and great certainty in those they love was too much for them to bear, and more willfully than reasonably they take the words of innocent or lying people of little truth and less virtue, and try to obscure their great joy with the cloud of little sufferance. So, my loyal lover, as a guilty person who recognizes her error with humility, receive my damsel, who besides the letter will give you news of the extremity that my life is in, for which, not because it deserves it but because it may aid your own, ye may have pity."

Having read the letter, Beltenebros's happiness was so extreme that, just as in the past he had fainted with sorrow, he fainted now, unable to feel the tears falling down his cheeks. He soon made it known to all that he wanted those who had came with the Damsel, as a service to God, to take him from that place, where he could not get care for his health. This was done, and within the hour they had returned to the ship and headed for the shore.

But first Beltenebros bid farewell to the hermit and told him how that Damsel, by the mercy of God and great fortune, was brought there for his recovery. He implored him to take charge of the reformation of the monastery that he had promised to make at the foot of the cliff on Firm Island. He agreed, and Amadis headed out to sea, and only the Damsel knew who he was.

They arrived at land and the sailors said farewell to the Damsel. She and her company began to travel toward where her lady was. They found a village on a riverbank with many fine and beautiful trees, and at the Damsel's request they rested there so that Beltenebros could recover somewhat from his weakness.

And if his longing for his lady had not tormented him, he could have had a more agreeable life for his health there than in other part of the world, because beneath those trees, at the feet of which the springs flowed, he had dinner and supper. They spent the nights in the lodgings they had in the village.

There Amadis and the Damsel spoke of things in the past, and there she told him how his lady Oriana wailed and mourned when Durin returned after bringing him the letter, and how neither she nor Mabilia had known what she had written in it.

Beltenebros told her about his sufferings and the life he had had on Poor Rock, and the many and diverse memories that occurred to him each day. He told how Corisanda had come, the lover of his brother Sir Florestan, and the great anguish she had suffered for him. When he saw how she was dying for her beloved and knew how he himself had been discarded and abhorred by his own lover for no reason, it made him approach death more quickly. He told how he had taught Corisanda's damsels the song that he had written and many other things that would be lengthy to recount.

And so, now being free of the cruel death that had awaited him, he felt such joy that after the ten days that they rested there, he was so improved that his heart ordered him to take up arms. He made himself known to Durin, and took Enil, a nephew of Sir Gandales, his foster father, as his squire, without Enil knowing who he was nor whom he served, though Enil was content with him for his kind words.

They left there and after traveling four days, they arrived at a monastery of lay sisters near a fine town, where they agreed that the Damsel and Durin would leave, and he would stay with Enil awaiting orders from his lady. And so they did, and the Damsel left Beltenebros with the money he would need for arms and a horse and clothing. She deliberately forgot some of the gifts with him so that, when it was noticed, Durin could return with the reply.

She went on her way straight to Miraflores, where she expected to find her lady Oriana, given what she had said before the Damsel had left.
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Summary, Book II through Chapter 51

2011-12-08T09:51:00.001+01:00

Amadis will obey his lady Oriana in all things, which may cause his undoing.

View of Madrid from the west, created in 1562 by Antoon Van Den Wijngaerde for King Felipe II. In the foreground is the Manzanares River. The medieval walls are still standing guard around the city. At the left on the bluff is the royal castle, which burned down in 1734 and was replaced by the present-day palace.

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Beginning of Book II

Apolidon is a wise and mighty young knight whose parents are the King of Greece and a sister of the Emperor of Constantinople. He defeats a giant and takes over Firm Island, where he lives in great pleasure with his beloved, the sister of the Emperor of Rome. But after many years, he is called to rule Constantinople.

Before he goes, he sets an enchantment so that no one shall rule the island if they do not equal his fortitude at arms, his beloved's great beauty, and both their loyalty in love. He creates a arch at the entry to a garden that no one can pass through if they have erred from their first love.

Then he erects magic barriers of invisible warriors ready to attack at the entrance to the chamber where they had lived; no knight can pass them unless he surpasses Apolidon's skill at arms. But if the knight reaches the chamber, he will become lord of the island.

Chapter 44

Amadis, Galaor, Florestan, and Agrajes leave Queen Briolanja in the Kingdom of Sobradisa to rejoin King Lisuarte's court, but as they travel, they meet a maiden from Firm Island and decide to go there to test its enchantments.

Agrajes and Amadis pass through the arch of the loyal lovers; Florestan and Galaor do not even try. Instead, they attempt to enter the chamber and fail. Amadis tries and succeeds and becomes lord of the island, to the joy of all.

But as ye will recall, Oriana has been given bad information and believes that Amadis loves Queen Briolanja instead of her, so she sends him a letter withdrawing her love and ordering him never to come before her again. She orders a page named Durin, brother of the Damsel of Denmark, to deliver it.

Chapter 45

Durin reaches Amadis just after he has won Firm Island, but Amadis's squire, Gandalin, makes him wait to deliver the letter until after the celebration has ended, knowing that Amadis will overreact to whatever it says. Indeed, to Durin's distress, when Amadis finally reads the letter, he weeps and faints repeatedly with grief.

Amadis has lost the will to live. He leaves the island as secretly as possible to wander desolate in the mountains.

Chapter 46

Gandalin and Durin follow Amadis and listen as he mourns his cruel fate in long speeches addressed to fate, Oriana, his father, and many other people whom he loves and esteems.

Meanwhile, a knight passes nearby singing of his love for Oriana. Gandalin goes to Amadis and urges him to attack this knight, and Amadis easily defeats him, then says goodbye to Durin and leaves with Gandalin.

Chapter 47

A flashback reveals that the singing knight is named Patin and had come to King Lisuarte's court to woo Oriana. The King did not wish to give her to him, so he responded with an ambiguous answer to avoid offending him. Patin, though, he was sure he had won her and rode off joyfully.

Durin speaks briefly with Patin after his defeat by Amadis, then leaves to tell Oriana how Amadis has reacted to her letter.

Chapter 48

Galaor, Florestan, and Agrajes learn that Amadis has left Firm Island in sorrow, although they do not know why, and they ride off to find him. They find Patin, then decide to split up to search more widely, and to meet again at King Lisuarte's court.

Gandalin tries to talk some sense into Amadis but fails, and while Gandalin sleeps, Amadis leaves him to wander the mountains again. He rides until he meets a hermit at a spring. He convinces the hermit to allow him to live at the hermitage on an island named Poor Rock, where he can pass what little time remains in his life. Grief is killing Amadis, despite the hermit's counsel to abandon his sorrow as a worldly vanity.

At Amadis's request, the hermit gives him a new name: Beltenebros, which could be translated as "Handsome Gloom."

Gandalin searches for Amadis and meets some damsels who had found his armor, which Amadis had abandoned at the spring when he left with the hermit. A knight named Guilan the Pensive has taken the armor to King Lisuarte's court. Gandalin resumes his search.

Chapter 49

Durin tells Oriana how her letter made Amadis want to die. She faints with sorrow and guilt, but soon sends the Damsel of Denmark to Scotland to look for Amadis, thinking he would go there to see his foster father. If the Damsel finds Amadis, she will tell him to meet Oriana at her castle, Miraflores. But the Damsel does not find him.

Chapter 50

Sir Guilan the Pensive meets an evil knight on his way to King Lisuarte's court, defeats him in a perilous adventure, and continues on to the court to deliver Amadis's arms to the Queen. Everyone is distressed at their sight and wonders what has happened to Amadis.

Chapter 51

While Beltenebros is at the hermitage at Poor Rock, he composes a sad song. He knows that he is faithful and that Oriana is wrong, but he will obey her at the cost of his life.

One night, he hears damsels singing, and discovers that his brother Florestan's lover, Corisanda, has stopped there on her way to King Lisuarte's court to look for Florestan. He teaches the song to her damsels before they leave.

When Corisanda arrives at the court, she tells about meeting the sad Beltenebros, and Oriana and her friends realize that he is Amadis.
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Chapter 51 [second half]

2011-11-29T09:51:00.001+01:00

[How Beltenebros's song came to be sung in the court of King Lisuarte, and what was understood of it there.]

[An illustration of a queen and musicians from De mulieribus claris, written by Giovanni Boccaccio in 1374, from a French version published in 1405.]

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After Mass was said, they carried the lady to Amadis's chamber and laid her in an exceptionally rich bed they had made there. She was weeping and wringing her hands over the great sorrow that she suffered. Beltenebros, when he saw her like that, asked the damsels, who had picked up their instruments to give her solace, what had happened and why she seemed so anguished.

They told him:

"Friend, this lady is very rich and of great nobility. She is beautiful, although now her illness has diminished that. Her anguish, although it is not told to others, we shall tell you if ye keep it secret. Know that her torment is over a very great love, and she is going to look for her lover in the court of King Lisuarte. May God help her find him there so that some of her suffering may be lessened."

When he heard them speak of the court of King Lisuarte and how the lady was dying of love like him, tears came to his eyes and he told them:

"I ask you, my ladies, to tell me the name of the man she loves."

"That knight whom we told you of is not of this land," they said, "and he is one of the best knights in the world, except for two who are very esteemed."

"Now I ask you," he said, "by the faith that ye owe to God, that ye tell me his name and these two that you speak of."

"We shall only if ye tell us if ye are a knight, which ye fully seem to be, and what your name is."

"I shall do so," he said, "to know that which I ask you."

"In the name of God," they said. "Now know that the knight that the lady loves is named Sir Florestan, brother of the good knight Amadis of Gaul and of Sir Galaor, and he is the son of King Perion of Gaul and the Countess of Selandia."

"May God be praised! Now I know that ye tell me the truth about his estate and skill, and I believe that ye could not tell all of how good he is, for he is better than anything ye could say."

"What?" they said. "Do you know him?"

"I saw him not long ago," he said, "in the court of Briolanja, and I saw the battle that Amadis and his cousin Agrajes fought with Abiseos and his sons, and I saw how after it was over, Florestan arrived, and he seemed to me to be very even tempered. I have heard his brother, Sir Galaor, speak often about his great skill at arms, for he had fought with him."

"That battle is why Florestan left," the damsels said, "because during it they found out they were brothers."

"What?" he said. "Is this the lady of the island where they had fought each other?"

"She is," they said.

"I believe her name is Corisanda," he said.

"That is true," they said.

"Now I feel less sorry for her illness," he said, "for I know well that he is so moderate and of such good will that he will always do what she orders."

"Now tell us who ye are," the damsels said.

"My good ladies," he said, "I am a knight, but I was more involved than I am now in the vain things of this world, which I am paying for, and my name is Beltenebros."

"May God have mercy on you," they said. "Now place yourself in His hands, and we must go to console our lady with these musical instruments."

And so they did, and entered her room and having played and sung a while, they told her everything that Beltenebros had heard about Sir Florestan.

"Oh," she said, "call him to me at once, for he must be a fine man since he saw Sir Florestan and met him."

And one of the damsels brought Beltenebros to her, and the lady told him:

"These damsels tell me that ye saw Sir Florestan and ye love him. I ask you, by the faith that ye owe God, to tell me what ye know about him."

He told her all that he had told to the damsels, and that he knew that he and his brothers and his cousin Agrajes had gone to Firm Island, and after that he did not see them again.

"Now tell me," Corisanda said, "if ye please, whether ye have some kinship with him, because to me ye seem to love him."

"My lady," he said, "I love him greatly for his valor and because his father made me a knight, for which I am much obliged to him and his sons. I am very sad over some news about Amadis that I heard before I arrived here."

"And what is this?" she said.

"When I was coming to this place," he said, "I saw a damsel in a forest next to the road I was traveling on, and she sang a song very pleasurable to hear. I asked her who had written it."

" 'It was composed," she said, "by a knight whom God ought to give more happiness than He had at the time, for according to its words, he had received a great affront in love and he was suffering deeply for it.'

"I stayed two days with the damsel until I had learned it, and she told me that Amadis had taught it to her weeping and mourning."

"I beg you," she said, "teach this song that ye speak of to my damsels so that they can play it on their instruments and sing it."

"It would please me to do it," he said, "for your love and for he whom ye most love, although now is not the time for me to sing or do things that are happy or pleasurable."

Then he went with the damsels to the chapel and taught them the song, and he had a very rare voice and his great sadness made it more sweet and agreeable. The damsels learned the song well and sang it to their lady, who took great pleasure in hearing it.

Corisanda was there for four days, and on the fifth she bid farewell to the hermit and Beltenebros, and asked him if he would be there for a long time.

"My lady," he said, "until I die."

Then they got on their ship and continued their voyage to London, where they hoped to hear news there sooner than anywhere else about Sir Florestan. She was well received by the King and Queen and all others, who knew that she was a lady of high estate, and they had her stay in the palace. The Queen asked why she had come, and said she would be willing to help, along with the King, if there was anything they could do.

"My lady," Corisanda said, "I am in your debt, but my quest is to find Sir Florestan, and because news from everywhere comes to your court, I want to be here for some time until I learn something about him."

The Queen said:

"My good friend, you can remain here as long as ye please, but, until now nothing is known about him except that he has left in search of Amadis, his brother, of whom it is not known why he has disappeared."

She told her how Sir Guilan had brought her Amadis's arms but had not learned anything about him. When Corisanda heard this, she began to weep fiercely, saying:

"Oh, God, my Lord, what will become of my beloved lord Sir Florestan, for the way he loves his brother, he may well also be lost if he does not find him, and I shall never see him again."

The Queen consoled her and regretted having given her that news. Oriana, who was next to her mother listening to the lady tell how she loved Sir Florestan, brother of Amadis, felt the desire to honor her, and accompanied her to her room, where she learned everything about her situation.

Speaking with her about many things, Corisanda told her and Mabilia how she was at Poor Rock and found a knight doing penance who taught her damsels a song that Amadis had composed about himself in his hour of great anguish, and he must have suffered deeply judging by the words of the song.

Mabilia told her:

"My good friend and lady, I ask you to please have your damsels to sing it for us, for I would have great pleasure to hear it because it was written by a knight who is my cousin."

"I shall do this willingly," she said, "for my heart shall be lifted to hear it because of the kinship that my lord Sir Florestan has with him."

Then the damsels came and played it and sang very sweetly, in keeping with its beauty, but to the pain of whoever heard it. Oriana thought about these words and saw well that due to her error, Amadis complained very rightly, and a great pain came to her heart so that she could not remain there and went to her room, ashamed of the many tears that had come to her eyes.

Mabilia said to Corisanda:

"My friend, ye have seen how Oriana is suffering, and she was here to give you pleasure and honor longer than she should have. I want to go to give her some remedy, and I beg you to tell me who the man is on Poor Rock who taught this song to your damsels, and if he has any news about Amadis."

She told how she had found him and what he said, and that she had never seen a suffering and weak man so handsome and so elegant in his poverty, and that she had never seen such a young man who was so well educated. Mabilia immediately thought that he was Amadis, who in his great desperation had gone to a place hard to get to and distant from everyone in the world.

She went to Oriana, who was in her room lost in thought and sobbing, and arrived laughing and in a good mood, and told her:

"My lady, by asking a man sometimes learns more than expected. Know that, according to what I have learned from Corisanda, the suffering knight who is called Beltenebros and who is at Poor Rock logically ought to be Amadis, who has gone there to be away from everyone in the world, and wished to fulfill your order not to appear before you or anyone else. Therefore be happy and take consolation, for my heart tells me that without out a doubt it is him."

Oriana raised her hands and said:

"Oh, Lord of the world, my it please You that this be true! My good friend, tell me what to do, for I am in such a state that I have no good judgement nor wisdom, and, by God, have mercy on me, an unfortunate wretch who by my madness and thoughtless ire have lost all my goods and pleasures."

Mabilia felt great sorrow for her, and tears came to her eyes. She turned her head so they would not be seen and told her:

"My lady, my advice is that we wait for your damsel, and if she does not find him, let me look, for I know how we learned about him and I am convinced that he is the one called Beltenebros."
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Amadis's angry song: three English translations

2011-11-24T09:47:00.001+01:00

We have the words, now we need the music.

Text from the 1526 edition printed in Seville by Jacobo and Juan Cromberger.

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Who knew that Amadis could sing, let alone compose music? We still have the lyrics but the tune is lost — that is, the tune awaits someone to write it anew. As ye might expect, though, the English translations vary.

First, here is the original Spanish:

Pues se me niega vitoria
do justo m'era devida,
allí do muere la gloria
es gloria morir la vida.

Y con esta muerta mía
morirán todos mis daños
mi esperança, mi porfía,
el amor y sus engaños;
mas quederá en mi memoria
lástima nunca perdida,
por me matar la gloria
me mataron gloria y vida.

Here is my translation. I've taken the liberty to switch some lines to preserve the meter and rhyme:

Being denied the victory
that I justly deserved,
wherever dies that glory,
death with glory is served.

And with that I shall die
and with me die my woes,
love and all its lies,
my struggles and my hopes.
But this one thought remains
from sorrow never free:
that with my glory slain,
glory and life killed me.

Robert Southey, in his 1803 translation, for some reason used a French translation of Amadis for his lyrics, although he used a Spanish edition for the text. Here is the French version and Southey's translation:

Pues qu'a grand tort la victoire
meritee on me denye,
Alors que fine la gloire,
Gloire est de finir la vie.

Et aussi par mièsme mort
Maurent mes plus grands malheurs,
Mon espoir et mon confort,
Amour me fine et ses chaleurs.

Mas toujours t'auray memoire
De perpetuel esmoy:
Car pour fin meure á ma gloire,
On meuririst ma gloire et moy.

Sith that the victory of right deserved
By wrong they do withhold for which I served,
Now sith my glory thus hath had a fall,
Glorious it is to end my life withall.
By this my death, likewise my woes release,
My hope, my joy, my inflamed love doth cease.
But ever will I mind my during pain,
For they, to end my glory and my gain,
myself have murdered, and my glory slain.

Finally, Edwin Place and Herbert Behm translated Amadis in 1974, and here is their version:

Since victory is denied me
Where rightly it was owed to me,
There where glory dies
It is glory for life to die.

And with this death of mine
Will die all my hurts
My hope, my striving,
Love and its deceits.
But there will remain in my memory
A lament never lost,
For in order to kill my glory
My glory and life have been slain.
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Chapter 51 [first half]

2011-11-15T10:10:00.001+01:00

Which tells how, while Beltenebros was at Poor Rock, a ship docked that brought Corisanda in search of her lover Florestan, and of the things that happened and what she recounted at the court of King Lisuarte.

[The hermitage of Saint John on the island of Gaztelugatxe on the coast of Biscay. Photo by multisani.]

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While Beltenebros was at Poor Rock, as we have already told you, one day the hermit had him sit next to him on a stone bench at the door of the hermitage, and said:

"My son, I ask ye to tell me what made you shout in your sleep when we were at the Spring of the Meadow."

"I shall tell you willingly, my good lord, and I ask you by God to tell me what of it that ye might understand, be it to my pleasure or sadness."

Then he told him the dream that ye have already heard about, although Beltenebros did not tell him the names of the damsels. The good man, after he heard it, spent a long time thinking, then turned to him laughing and said kindly:

"Beltenebros, good son, what you have said has given me much happiness and great pleasure, and know that it rightly out to be so, and I want ye to know how I understand it. Know that the dark room where ye found yourself and could not leave represents the sorrow which ye are now in, and the damsels who opened the door are some of your friends who will speak with she whom ye most love in your life. In that way they shall take you from here and from the sorrow which ye now have. The ray of sunshine that came before them means that they will send happy news with which ye shall leave here.

"The fire that ye saw surrounding your beloved signifies the great distress that your love for her will be for you, as her love for you shall be for her. That fire means love and her suffering before she sees you, from which ye shall take her. The beautiful garden where ye shall take her shows the great pleasure that she shall receive by seeing you.

"I know well that being a priest I ought not to speak of such things, but I understand that it is a better service to God to tell you the truth with which ye shall be consoled than to remain quiet and let your life remain close to hopeless death."

Beltenebros knelt before him and kissed his hands, thanking God that in such great distress and pain He had given him a person who could knew how to advise him, and he prayed, weeping, that God would have pity and make the words of that holy man, His servant, come true.

Then he asked the good man what he could say about the dream he had had the night before Durin gave him the letter when he was on Firm Island. The good man told him:

"This clearly shows you all that ye have already had happen to you. I tell you that the tall hill covered with trees in which ye found yourself and the many happy people around you represents Firm Island, which ye had won and where ye had given great pleasure to all who lived there. The man that ye saw with the box containing bitter medicine is the messenger from your beloved who gave you the letter, and the great bitterness of her words ye know better than anyone, for ye have tasted them.

"The sadness that ye saw in the people who had been happy are the people of the island again, who are alone and in great sorrow because of you. The clothes ye took off are the arms that ye left behind. The rocky place in the middle of water where ye hid yourself represents the rock on which ye are now. The man in the religious order that spoke to you in a language that ye do not understand is myself, who spoke the holy words of God to you, which before that ye did not know nor bear in mind."

"Certainly," Beltenebros said, "ye have told me very truthfully about this dream because all of that did happen to me, so I take great hope in what may come."

But that hope was not so certain nor so great that it fully eased the great anguish that he had been placed in by his desperation over his lady. He looked long and often at the land, remembering the pleasures and great honors he had had there, but they had all been changed into the opposite with cruelty, thus he frequently arrived at such straits that if it were not for the advice of that good man, his life would have been in great danger.

To help distance him from his deep meditations and sorrows, the good man often put him in the company of two boys, his nephews, whom the good man had with him, to go to fishing in a river near there with poles, where they caught fine fish.

So as ye hear Beltenebros did his penance and always had with him great pain and deep concerns, believing that if God in His mercy did not help him with the favor of his lady, he was always much closer to death than life.

Most nights he spent beneath some thick trees that were in the garden near the hermitage so he could mourn and weep without the hermit or his boys hearing him. And he thought about the things that he had done to serve her for which he had been give such a poor reward without cause or justice. In his anger, he composed this song:

Being denied the victory
that I justly deserved,
wherever dies that glory,
death with glory is served.

And with that I shall die
and with me die my woes,
love and all its lies,
my struggles and my hopes.
But this one thought remains
from sorrow never free:
that with my glory slain,
glory and life killed me.

After he had written this song that ye hear, one night while he was beneath those trees as usual, mourning deeply and weeping fiercely, after much of the night had passed he heard some instruments being played very sweetly nearby, which he felt great pleasure to hear. He was surprised, for he had thought that there was no more company there than the hermit and himself and the two boys. He got up and went stealthily to see what it was, and he saw two damsels next to the fountain who had musical instruments in their hands. He heard them play and sing happily.

After he had listened for a while, he told them:

"Good damsels, may God be with you, for with your very sweet playing, ye have made me miss matins."

They were surprised that a man was there, and they told him:

"Friend, please tell us what place this is where we have docked and what man ye are who speaks with us."

"My ladies," he said, "this place is called the Rock of the Hermitage, after a hermit and a hermitage here, and I am a very poor man who stays and lives with him, doing severe penance for my great evil deeds and sins."

Then they said:

"Friend, might we find some house here in which a very ill lady we bring could dwell and rest for two or three days? She is high born as well as rich, and she has been laid low by love."

When Beltenebros heard this, he said:

"There is a small house where I dwell, and if the hermit gives it to her, I shall sleep in the field, which I do many nights, if it would make you happy."

The damsels gave him many thanks for what he had said and held him in great favor. As they were speaking, the dawn broke, and Beltenebros saw beneath some trees the lady they had spoken of in a beautiful and very rich bed, along with four armed knights on the seashore who were waiting on her and sleeping, and five men who lay next to them who did not bear arms. He saw a ship at anchor in the sea well stocked with everything it could need. The lady appeared exceptionally young and very beautiful and it gave him pleasure to look at her.

Then he went to the hermit, who was dressing to say Mass, and told him:

"Father, we have strangers among us. It would be good if ye saw them before Mass."

"I shall do that," the good man said.

Then together they left the hermitage and Beltenebros showed him the ship and they saw that the knights and other men were carrying the ill lady toward them, the damsels with her. They asked the hermit if there was a house where they could put her, and he said:

"There are two houses here, one where I stay, and by my will no woman shall ever enter. This good poor man lodges in the other. He is doing penance here, and I shall not order him out against his will."

Beltenebros said:

"Father, ye may give it to her, for I shall stay beneath the trees, which I am often accustomed to do."

Then they all entered the chapel to hear Mass, and Beltenebros, who looked at the damsels and knights and thought about himself and his lady and his past life, began to weep fiercely and knelt before the altar and prayed to the Virgin Mary to rescue him from the great trouble that he was in.

The damsels and knights who saw him weeping from his heart thought that he was a man of good breeding, and they were amazed by his youth and handsomeness, and wondered why he had come there over any sin, no matter how grave, for everywhere the mercy of God reaches where men are truly repentant.
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The Hebrew translation of Amadis of Gaul

2011-11-10T10:32:00.000+01:00

More than a mere translation, Jacob Algaba's 1541 version tells us about the complex relationship between Jewish and Spanish cultures.

The Theodosian Walls of Constantinople near the Golden Gate. Photo by Sue Burke.

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A recent post at the website of David A. Wacks, Associate Professor of Spanish at the University of Oregon, discusses the Spanish influences on the Sephardim. After the Jews' expulsion from Spain in 1492, many moved to Constantinople, where they changed Jewish culture in that city. That culture in turn affected the Hebrew translation of Amadis of Gaul — a translation also tells us a lot about the Spanish original and why it became popular.

"Reading Amadís in Istanbul" at:
http://davidwacks.uoregon.edu/2011/10/29/amadis/

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Chapter 50

2011-11-01T10:29:00.000+01:00

How Guilan the Pensive took Amadis's shield and arms, which he had found without anyone watching over them at the Spring of the Meadow, and brought them to the court of King Lisuarte.

[The tower of the 12th-century castle at the Ucero River near Soria, Spain. Photo by AnTeMi.]

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After Sir Guilan the Pensive left the spring where he had found the arms of Amadis, as has been told to you, he traveled for seven days on the road to the court of King Lisuarte, and he always wore Amadis's shield on his neck. He never took it off, except twice when he was forced to fight, then he gave it to his squires and took his own.

Once was when he met two knights who were cousins of Arcalaus. They recognized the shield and wanted to take it, saying that they would either bring it or the head of the knight who wore it to their uncle. But Sir Guilan, when he learned they belonged to the family of such an evil man, said:

"Now I hold you for less."

And then they fought bravely, for the two knights were young and hardy, but Sir Guilan, though older, was more valiant and experienced at arms. Although the battle lasted some time, in the end he killed one of them and the other fled toward a mountain. Sir Guilan was injured but not badly, and continued down the road as before.

That night he lodged in the house of a knight he knew, who did him many honors and in the morning gave him a lance, for his had been broken in the joust he had just had. And then Guilan traveled down the road until he came to a river called Guinion. It was wide, and it had a wooden bridge broad enough that two knights on horseback could pass each other. At its near end he saw a knight who wanted to cross the bridge who had a green shield with a white bar on it, and he knew it was Ladasin, his cousin. At the far end was a knight who defended the bridge and who shouted:

"Knight, do not get on the bridge unless ye wish to joust."

"Even if I must joust with you," Ladasin said, "I shall not fail to cross."

Then, raising his shield, he rode onto the bridge. The other knight who guarded the bridge rode a large bay horse and wore a white shield with a brown lion on it, with a matching lion on his helmet. The knight was big of body and rode very well. When he saw Ladasin on the bridge, he charged at him as fast as his could and they met at the entrance of the bridge. Ladasin and his horse fell from the bridge into the water, but as he fell he reached for one of the willows and grabbed it, and with great difficulty he got to the riverbank, for he had fallen far and his armor was heavy.

The knight who had knocked him down turned around and returned to where he had been. Sir Guilan went to his cousin, and he and his squires pulled him from the water and took off his shield and helmet. Guilan told him:

"Truly, cousin, ye would have died except that your great courage saved you when ye grabbed for these branches. All knights ought to avoid jousts on bridges because those who guard them have already trained their horses for it, and they win honor more because of that than because of their courage. I would prefer to go around and look for another road, but due to what has happened to you, I must avenge you if I can."

Meanwhile Ladasin's horse had swum to the other side and the knight ordered his men to put it into a tower in a beautiful fortress in the middle of the river, reached by a stone bridge.

Sir Guilan took off Amadis's shield and gave it to his squires, took his and his lance and went to the bridge. The other knight who guarded it immediately came at him, and both charged as fast as their horses could go.

They struck each other so hard that the knight was knocked from his saddle and fell into the river, and Guilan fell on the bridge and would have fallen in the water if he had not held onto the timbers. The knight who had fallen into the water grabbed Guilan's horse, which had fallen on him, and pulled it out. Guilan's squires took the knight's horse, and Guilan looked and saw the knight at the end of the bridge, and he had Guilan's horse by the reins, which was shaking off the water. Guilan said:

"Order your squires to give me to give me my horse, and we will go."

"What?" said the knight. "Do ye think you can leave here with just that?"

"With that," Guilan said, "because we have jousted with each other as we ought to."

"That cannot be," he said, "because we both fell, so the battle is not finished until we have at each other with swords."

"What?" said Sir Guilan. "First you forced me to fight with you, and the offense ye did us is not enough, since bridges are common for all to cross?"

"I do not care about that," he said, "Ye still must feel how my sword cuts, either by agreement or by force."

Then he jumped onto the horse without putting a foot in a stirrup, so easily that it was amazing to see, and quickly straightened his helmet and went to place himself in the road where Guilan would have to pass, and told him:

"Lowly knight, tell me before we fight if ye are from the land of King Lisuarte or in his retinue."

"Why do ye ask?" Guilan said.

"May God grant that I had King Lisuarte where I have you!" the knight said. "For I swear on my head that he would reign no more."

This made Sir Guilan angry, and he said:

"Truly, if my lord King Lisuarte were here as I am, he would quickly punish your madness. As for myself, I tell you that I am his subject and dwell in his court, and for what ye just said, I want to fight you, though I did not before, and if I can, I shall make it so that the King shall receive no further offence or disloyalty from you."

The knight laughed disdainfully and said:

"And I promise thee that before noon thou shalt be put in such straits that I shall dispatch thee with great dishonor. I want thee to know who I am and what gifts thou shalt be given from me."

Sir Guilan, who was furious and wanted to fight, forced himself to wait and find out who he was.

"Now," the other knight said, "know thou that my name is Gandalod, and I am the son of Barsinan, the lord of Saxony, whom King Lisuarte killed in London, and the gifts that thou shalt bring are the heads of four other knights of his court that I have imprisoned in my tower, one of them being his nephew Giontes, along with thy right hand cut off and hanging from thy neck."

Sir Guilan put his hand on his sword and said:

"Thou art brave in thy threats, if those could frighten me."

And he charged, as did the other knight, and they met with great wrath and began their battle with such bravery and cruelty that it was amazing to see. They attacked each other on all sides with such hard and fierce blows that they could take no moment's respite at all. Ladasin and his squires watched, frightened, and thought that neither of them would escape death, even if he were to win. But what saved them was that while both were well experienced in arms, they fended off many blows, and although their weapons cut, their flesh did not feel it.

And while they were fighting, thinking only of killing the other, a horn sounded from the top of the tower. Gandalod was startled and tried harder to bring the battle to an end to find out what had happened. He came close to Sir Guilan, reached out and grabbed him so hard that both were pulled from their saddles and fell from their horses onto the ground. They spent some moments grappling with each other and rolling on the ground, but each one held tight to his sword with his hand.

Sir Guilan broke free, stood up first, and gave him two blows. But the knight stood up and began to fight more fiercely and dangerously than before because, on foot, they could reach each other much more easily than on horseback, and both wanted to finish the fight. Sir Guilan thought that the horn had sounded to call for help for Gandalod, and Gandalod thought that some treachery was underway in the tower.

So each one, without pausing or resting, tested all his strength against the other. But now that they were on foot, Sir Guilan began to fight much better, which gave great pleasure to Ladasin and the squires who watched because Gandalod could not cover himself as well with what remained of his shield nor fend off damaging blows with his sword because he was too tired.

Sir Guilan, when he saw this, waited for his chance, struck him on his open arm, and cut off his hand, which fell to the ground along with the sword he held in it. Gandalod shouted and tried to flee to the tower, but Guilan reached him and pulled so hard on his helmet that he tugged it from his head and threw him on the ground. He put the sword in his face and said:

"Ye must to go to King Lisuarte with these gifts ye told me about, but they will be different from what ye had planned, and if ye do not, your head will be separated from your body."

"I shall do it," said Gandalod, "for I would prefer the mercies of the King to dying here and now."

Guilan took that promise. He heard a great revolt at the tower and went there, mounted and with Ladasin. They found that the imprisoned knights had gotten loose and left the dungeon, and had armed themselves with the weapons they found at the top of the tower. They had sounded the horn, and one of them stayed with it while the others descended and killed all that they could reach.

When Sir Guilan and Ladasin arrived, they saw their companions at the tower gate and a knight with seven footmen fleeing the tower to take refuge in a woods. The knights in the tower told Guilan and Ladasin to kill them, especially the knight, so they immediately went after them, and soon they had killed four footmen and the other three escaped, but the knight was taken prisoner and brought to the knights who had escaped from the dungeon.

Sir Guilan told them:

"My lords, I cannot stay here for I am going to the Queen, but stay with my cousin Ladasin, and take these knights to King Lisuarte so he may do with them as he thinks best. Put the tower under my command."

"We shall do so," they said.

Then Sir Guilan took off his shield, which now was worthless for it had been cut in many places, and took Amadis's, weeping silently. The knights, who recognized the shield and saw him weeping, were surprised and asked him how he came to have it. He told them how he had found it at the Fountain of the Meadow with all Amadis's other arms, and how he had looked for Amadis throughout the entire region and could learn nothing about him. They felt deeply sorry to think that something very bad had happened to him.

With that, Guilan departed, and without incident he soon arrived to where the King was, who had already learned how Amadis had passed in all the tests of Firm Island and won lordship of it, and how he had departed secretly in great sorrow, but no one knew why, except for those whom ye have already been told about. When Sir Guilan arrived, all came to see Amadis's shield and learn some news about him. The King said:

"By God, Sir Guilan, tell us what ye know about Amadis!"

"My lord," he said, "I do not know a thing and did not hear a thing, but how I came to find the shield I shall tell before the Queen, if ye please."

Then the King went with him to see the Queen, and when Guilan arrived, he knelt before her, weeping, and said:

"My lady, I found all the arms of Amadis at a spring called the Spring of the Meadow, where this shield was unguarded, which gave me great sorrow to see. I put it in a tree, leaving some damsels who I had in my company to guard it, and traveled all about the region looking for Amadis. It was not my fate to find him nor hear news of him, and I, knowing the valor of that knight and that his desire was to be in your service until death, thought that if I could not bring him, then his arms would give testimony to you of what I am obligated to do for you and for him. Order them to be put somewhere where all may see them, so that when people from all parts come to your court they can learn something about their owner. They can be an example to those who wish to be fine knights, for they should seek the great fame that their master in his time won among so many other knights."

The Queen said:

"I am very sorry at the loss of such a man who shall leave the world so much diminished. And I deeply thank you, Sir Guilan, for what ye have done, and I shall do so with all who bear arms if they labor to find Amadis, for the order of chivalry and ladies and damsels were so esteemed and defended by him."

This news weighed heavy on the King and all those of the court, believing that Amadis was dead, but above all on Oriana, who could not remain there with her mother and went to her room, where with many tears she cursed her fate for having caused so much evil that nothing but death awaited her. But all Mabilia's consolation, and the hope that when her damsel returned she would bring good news, gave her some solace.

Five days later the knights and damsels that Sir Guilan had taken from prison arrived at the court, and they went to the King and Queen to ask their favor to thank Guilan for freeing them. And the damsels came who told of the mourning they had seen Gandalin make, and while they did not know his name, they said he was a squire who had asked about the owner of the shield and the arms.

Then the knights arrived who brought Gandalod as prisoner, and they told the King about the battle between him and Sir Guilan and why they had fought, and all the words that had been spoken between them, and how he had held them prisoner and how they had gotten free.

The King told Gandalod:

"This is the place where I killed thy father for the great treachery he did me, and here thou shalt die for the treachery thou hast wished to do to me."

Then he ordered both him and the knight who had fled to be thrown from the tower at the foot of which Barsinan, his father, had been burned, as the first book has recounted.
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Chapter 49

2011-10-18T10:29:00.000+02:00

How Durin, Oriana's page, returned to his lady with the reply to her message that he had brought to Amadis, and how she wept at the news.

[Portrait of a lady, painted in about 1460 in the workshop of Rogier van de Weyden.]

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After Durin left Amadis in the forest where Patin lay injured, as we have recounted, he took the road to London, where King Lisuarte was, and traveled as fast as he could so that Oriana would learn the unfortunate news about Amadis, because she might be able to do something to remedy all the ill that her letter had done. He rode so fast that in ten days he had arrived in London, dismounted at his lodging, and went to the palace of the Queen.

When Oriana saw him, her heart jumped and could not be still, so she immediately went to her room and lay on her bed, then ordered the Damsel of Denmark to call her brother Durin and make sure no one saw him. The damsel called him, then left to see to Mabilia.

Oriana told him:

"My friend, now tell me where thou hast traveled and where thou foundest Amadis, and what he did when thou gavest him my letter, and whether thou sawest Queen Briolanja. Tell me everything, and do not leave out anything."

"My lady," Durin said, "I shall tell all, although there is no little to recount, for I have seen many marvelous and amazing things. I tell you that I arrived in Sobradisa and saw Briolanja, who is so beautiful and gentle and graceful that, besides yourself, no woman in the world is as beautiful as she. And there I heard news about Amadis and his brothers. They had departed, and I followed their trail and learned that they had left the road and went with a damsel to Firm Island to test themselves with its amazing adventures. When I arrived there, Amadis had entered the Arch of Loyal Lovers, where no one can go if he has strayed from the first woman he has loved."

"What?" Oriana said. "He dared to attempt that adventure knowing he would not succeed?"

"It did not seem to me that is what happened," Durin said. "Instead he completed it proving greater loyalty than anyone ever had, because he was received with signs that until then had never been done."

When she heard this, her heart felt great joy to know that Amadis's loyalty was true and certain, just the opposite of what she had thought. Then he told her how Sir Galaor and Florestan and Agrajes, testing themselves in the adventure of the defended chamber, could not finish it and were left so stunned that they were as if dead, and then Amadis tried and completed the test, winning the lordship of the island, which was the most beautiful and best protected in the world. After that, everyone had entered the chamber, which was the most amazing and rich that could be found.

When Oriana heard this, she said:

"Be quiet a moment."

Raising her hands to Heaven, she began to beg God in his mercy to arrange that she could soon be in that chamber with the one who through his great skill had won it. Then she said:

"Now tell me what Amadis did when thou gavest him my letter."

Tears came to Durin's eyes, and he told her:

"My lady, I advise you that ye do not wish to know, for ye have done a greater cruelty and fiendishness that any other damsel in the world has ever done."

"Oh, Holy Mary, help me!" she said. "What dost thou say?"

"I tell you," Durin said, "that with your anger and with the worst injustice that could ever be, ye have killed the greatest and most loyal knight that any woman has had or will have as long as the world exists. Cursed be the hour in which such a thing was conceived, and cursed be Death for not killing me first, because there has never been such a vile message. If I had known what I carried, I would rather have disappeared from the world than come before him, for you by ordering it and I by carrying it were the cause of his death."

Then he told her what Amadis said and did when he gave him the letter, and how Amadis had left Firm Island and what he said in the hermitage, and how he left there alone and went to a mountain. He told how he and Gandalin, against Amadis's orders, had followed him and found him alongside a spring but did not dare appear before him, and how Patin passed along there singing and what he said, and the battle he did with Amadis. And then Amadis left, telling Gandalin not to prevent his death or else not to come with him. And so nothing remained that he did not recount about what had happened and what he had seen.

When Oriana heard this, it overcame her ire and wrath, and the bravado of her heart was broken, and she was subjected to a sorrow greater than her anger had been, due to the great power that truth has over lies. Thus her thoughts of her guilt, along with thoughts of what he was suffering without her, had such force that they left her almost dead and senseless, unable to utter a single word.

Durin, when he saw her like that, had pity on her but knew well that she deserved it, and went to Mabilia and the Damsel of Denmark and told them:

"Help Oriana, who truly needs it, for it seems to me that if she erred, she is paying for it."

He went to his lodging and they went to Oriana, and seeing her so senseless, they shut the door to her room and threw water on her face to make her come to. When she could speak, she said:

"Oh, ill-fated wretch, I have killed the thing I most loved in the world. Oh, my lord, I killed you unjustly, and rightly I shall die for you, although your death will be poorly avenged with mine, because you, my lord, being loyal, will not be satisfied with the death of one who was disloyal and ill-fated."

She said this with as much pain and anguish as if her heart were breaking to pieces, but her servants and friends, sent by Durin and knowing all that had happened, helped her with the medicine that both Oriana and Amadis needed for their remedy. After giving her consolation, they had her write a letter to Amadis with very humble words and most abject begging, as shall be told more extensively farther on, telling him to cease what he was doing and to come to her at her castle of Miraflores, where she would wait for him and her great error would be corrected.

She entrusted it to the Damsel of Denmark, who was very pleased to do all she could to set things right between the two people that she loved most. So that the Damsel could travel without causing the least suspicion and because Durin had said that Amadis, in his mourning, had made much mention of his tutor, Sir Gandales, they believed that he would more likely be there than anywhere else, the Damsel agreed to take gifts to the Queen of Scotland and to tell her news about Mabilia, her daughter, and to bring news from the Queen to her. Oriana spoke with the Queen, her mother, telling her how they were sending the Damsel on that errand, and she thought it was good and sent her own gifts with her.

Having agreed to this, and taking her brother Durin and a nephew of Gandales named Enil, who had recently arrived to look for his lord, she traveled to the port called Vegil, which is in Great Britain, and they boarded a ship to Scotland. After seven days of sailing, they arrived in Scotland at a town called Poligez, and from there they went straight to Gandales's castle. They learned that he was out hunting with his squires, and he was sent for. He came and greeted her, and when Sir Gandales heard her foreign accent, he asked her where she was from.

She told him:

"I am a messenger from some damsels who love you dearly and who sent some gifts with me for the Queen of Scotland."

"Good damsel," he said, "if you please, tell me who they are."

"Oriana, the daughter of King Lisuarte, and Mabilia, whom ye know."

"My lady," he said, "ye are very welcome, and we shall go to my home and ye shall rest, and then I shall take you to the Queen."

She held that as good and went with him, and speaking of various things, asked Gandales about Amadis, his ward, for she was very disappointed to learn that he was not there, but to avoid giving him sorrow, she did not tell him how he was lost, only that after he left the court to avenge Briolanja, he had not returned.

"When I left, they had thought that he had come here to this land with Agrajes, his cousin, to see you who had raised him and the Queen, his aunt. I have brought letters from Queen Brisena and others of his friends that he would have enjoyed."

She said this because if he were there secretly, when he learned what she had said, he would want to see her and speak to her, but Gandales knew nothing about him. The damsel rested there for two days, and she was very honored and well served by everyone and by Gandales's wife, who was a very noble lady, and then she left to where the Queen was and gave her the letters and gifts that had been sent with her.
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The Cathedral of Reims, in full color

2011-10-13T10:07:00.001+02:00

Adorned with 2303 statues, the building is a medieval masterpiece.

Photo by Jean-Christophe Hanche for the Ville de Reims.

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The Cathedral of Reims, where the kings of France were once crowned, is celebrating its 800th anniversary. Activities in October include spectacular light shows to reproduce the original bright paint of the facade.

If you can't get to France, you can visit the website:
http://www.cathedraledereims.fr/
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Chapter 48 [final part]

2011-10-04T10:18:00.000+02:00

[What happened to Gandalin after he awoke.]

[Detail of the Tower of Lozoya, built in the 1300s in Segovia. The shield belonged to the Aguilar family. Photo by Katheline Vernati-Finn.]

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So as ye hear Amadis was left with the name Beltenebros on that Poor Rock seven leagues in the sea, abandoning the world, honor, and the arms that had brought him such heights, and consumed his days with tears and continuous sorrow. He did not think about the brave Galpano, of the mighty King Abies of Ireland, or of the arrogant Dardan, who Amadis's mighty arm had defeated and killed, along with many others whom this story has told, nor of the famous Apolidon, who not in his own time nor for one hundred years after it had been exceeded by any knight in his skill.

And if Amadis were to be asked about the cause of such destruction, how would he respond? That it had no other cause than the ire and rage of a weak woman, in the same way that the mighty Hercules, brave Sampson, wise Virgil, and not forgetting among them King Solomon, were tormented and subjugated by the same passion, along with many others whom he could mention. With this, would he be forgiven? Certainly not, because the errors of others must be remembered not to repeat them but to avoid and be admonished by them.

Would it be right for such a knight who had been defeated and subjugated for such a trivial cause to find mercy so that he could recover and earn twice the victories than he had won in the past? I would say no, except that the things he did at his peril were of such great benefit to the welfare of others who, after God, had no other helper besides him.

And so God had greater compassion for them than for him, who had defeated all others but could not defeat nor subjugate himself. When he finally arrived at the point of death, the Lord of the world mercifully sent him aid.

But, in order to maintain the order of the story, first we will tell you something of what happened in the meantime. Gandalin, who had been left sleeping in the mountain when his lord Amadis departed, after a long while awoke, and looking everywhere, saw only his own horse. He got up quicky and began to call for Amadis, weeping and searching through the thick brush, but he did not find Amadis nor his horse, and then he was sure that he had departed, he returned to his horse to mount and ride off after him, but he could not find his saddle or reins.

Then he began to curse himself and his fate and the day he was born. Searching here and there, he found them hidden in some very thick brush. He saddled his horse and mounted it and rode five days sleeping in the open air and asking in towns about his lord, but it was all lost effort, and after six days fate guided him to the spring where Amadis had left his arms. He found a tent next to it with two damsels inside, and Gandalin dismounted and asked them if they had seek a knight who carried a shield of gold with two purple lions on it.

They said:

"We did not see such a knight, but that shield and all the exceptionally good arms that went with it we found next to this spring without anyone watching over them."

When he heard this, he said, tearing his hair:

"Oh Holy Mary help me! My lord, the best knight in the world, is dead or lost." He began to mourn, and the damsels felt great pity for him, and he began to say:

"My lord, how badly I protected you, and I ought to be hated by everyone in the world, and I should not even be in this world, since I failed you at such a time! You, my lord, were the one who aided everyone, and now they are without help because now the world and everyone in it is without you. By my failure to protect you, I left you without aid at the moment of your painful death."

And he fell face down on the ground as if dead. The damsels shouted:

"Holy Mary, this squire is dead!"

And they went to bring him to consciousness and they could not, for he fainted again and again, but they spent so much time with him throwing water on his face that they made him come to, and they told him:

"Good squire, do not lose hope for that which ye do not know for certain, for it would do no good for your lord. It would be better for you to search for him until you know if he is dead or alive, for good men with great anguish ought to be strong and not let themselves die of desperation."

Gandalin took strength from these word from the damsels and decided to look for him everywhere until death took him, and he said to the damsels:

"My ladies, where did ye see the arms?"

"We shall gladly tell you," they said. "Know that we were traveling in the company of Sir Guilan the Pensive, who took us and twenty other damsels and knights from the prison of Gandinos the Betrayer, and Guilan did such feats of arms that he defeated all the other protectors of his castle and finally Gandinos. He took us all from prison and made him swear that he would never do such a thing again. The knights and damsels went where they pleased, and we went with Guilan to the lands where we are from.

"Four days ago we arrived at this spring, and when Guilan saw the shield that ye ask about, he felt great sorrow, and dismounted from his horse and said that the shield of the best knight in the world should not be there like that. He picked it up from the ground, weeping, and put it on the branch of that tree and told us to guard it while he looked for who it belonged to. We had these tents brought and Sir Guilan traveled for three days for all this land and found nothing. That night very late he came here and in the morning gave the arms to his squires and he put the sword in his belt and took the shield and said:

" 'By God, shield, a bad exchange it is to leave your lord and go with me!'

"And he said that he was going to the court of King Lisuarte to give those arms to Queen Brisena and have her keep them. And we shall go there as will all those who were prisoners, the women to ask the Queen and the knights the King to reward Sir Guilan for what he did for us.

"Then may God be with you," Gandalin said, "and I, taking your comfort and advice, shall go look for the most wretched and unfortunate man who was ever born, for my life and death belong to him."
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The Rules of Courtly Love

2011-09-29T11:00:00.004+02:00

"Love makes an ugly and rude person shine with beauty. It knows how to endow even one of humble birth with nobility, and it can lend humility to the proud." — Andreas Capellanus.

An ivory mirror case, now in the Louvre, from the 14th century.

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In the 12th century, Marie de Champagne, daughter of King Louis VII of France and Eleanor of Aquitaine, asked Andreas Cappellanus to write a De Amore, a text on courtly love. His three-book treatise included a definition of love and a list of rules for lovers that he said were an expansion of a list from King Arthur's court:

What is love?

Love is a certain inborn suffering derived from the sight of and excessive meditation upon the beauty of the opposite sex, which causes each one to wish above all things the embraces of the other and to carry out all of love's precepts in the other's embrace by common desire....

The Rules of Love

I. Marriage is no real excuse for not loving.

II. Anyone who is not jealous cannot love.

III. No one can be bound by a double love.

IV. It is well known that love is always increasing or decreasing

V. That which a lover takes against the will of his beloved has no relish.

VI. Boys do not love until they arrive at the age of maturity.

VII. When one lover dies, a widowhood of two years is required of the survivor.

VIII. No one should be deprived of love without the very best of reasons.

IX. No one can love except when impelled by the persuasion of love.

X. Love is always a stranger in the home of avarice.

XI. It is not proper to love any woman whom one would be ashamed to seek to marry.

XII. A true lover does not desire to embrace in love anyone except his beloved.

XIII. When made public, love rarely endures.

XIV. The easy attainment of love makes it of little value; difficulty of attainment makes it prized.

XV. Every lover regularly turns pale in the presence of his beloved.

XVI. When a lover suddenly catches sight of his beloved, his heart palpitates.

XVII. A new love puts to flight an old one.

XVIII. Good character alone makes any man worthy of love.

XIX. If love diminishes, it quickly fails and rarely revives.

XX. A man in love is always apprehensive.

XXI. Real jealousy always increases the feeling of love.

XXII. Jealously, and therefore love, are increased when one suspects his beloved.

XXIII. He who is vexed by the thought of love, eats and sleeps very little.

XXIV. Every act of a lover ends in the thought of his beloved.

XXV. A true lover considers nothing good except what he thinks will please his beloved.

XXVI. Love can deny nothing to love.

XXVII. A lover can never have enough of the solaces of his beloved.

XXVIII. A slight presumption causes a lover to suspect his beloved.

XXIX. A man who is vexed by too much passion usually does not love.

XXX. A true lover is constantly and without intermission possessed by the thought of his beloved.

XXXI. Nothing forbids one woman being loved by two men or one man by two women.
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Chapter 48 [middle part]

2011-09-20T09:46:00.000+02:00

How Amadis came to be called Beltenebros and went to Poor Rock.

[Detail of the Fiesole Altarpiece painted by Fra Angelico in 1424-1425.]

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Amadis rode all night and the next day until vespers. Then he entered a great meadow at the foot of the mountain, and in it there were two tall trees next to a spring. He went there to give his horse water, for he had ridden all day without finding any, and when he arrived at the spring, he saw a man of religious orders, his hair and beard white, who was giving water to his ass, and who wore a very simple habit of goat hair.

Amadis greeted him and asked if he was a priest. The good man told him that he had been one for a good forty years.

"May God have mercy!" Amadis said. "Now I ask you to remain here tonight and hear my penance, which I need very much."

"In the name of God," the good man said.

Amadis dismounted and put his arms on the ground, took the saddle from his horse, and let it graze in the grass. He removed his armor and knelt in front of the good man and began to kiss his feet. The good man took him by the hand and raised him up to sit next to him and saw how he was the most handsome knight that he had ever seen in his life, but how he was pale and his face and chest were bathed by the tears that he wept. He felt sad for him and said:

"Knight, it seems that ye have great sorrow, and if it is for some sin that ye have done and these tears are repentant, in a good hour ye were born to this world. But if your cause is some temporal thing, which due to your age and looks may be likely, think of God and ask mercy from He who brought you to His service."

And he raised his hand and blessed him and said:

"Now recount all the sins that ye can recall."

Amadis did so, telling him his life story, and left out nothing.

The good man told him:

"Due to your education and the high lineage from which ye come, ye should not kill yourself nor lose anything due you, especially over women, who are easily won and lost. I advise you to cease to think of such things and give up your madness, which ye do not do out of love of God, who is not pleased by such things. Even for worldly reasons ye ought to do so, for no man can nor ought to love someone who does not love him."

"My good lord," Amadis said, "I am injured to such a point that I cannot live much longer, and I beg you, by the mighty Lord whose faith ye keep, that it please you to take me with you for the little time that remains, and I shall take your counsel for my soul, and since now I shall have no need of my arms nor my horse, I shall leave them here and go with you on foot, doing whatever penance ye order. And if ye do not do this, ye do wrong to God, because I shall wander lost on this mountain without finding anyone to help me."

The good man, who saw him so prepared to do good with all his heart, told him:

"Truly, my lord, it is not proper for such a knight to abandon himself, as if all the world has failed you, and much less over a woman, whose love is never more lasting than what they hold in their sight and the words that they hear said to them, and when those pass, then they forget, especially in those false loves they enter into contrary to the service of the Lord. The same sin that engenders them sweet and delightful at first, later makes them cruel and bitter, as now ye have seen.

"And ye are outstanding and have land and lordship over many people, and are a loyal advocate and protector of all men and women who are wronged. Because ye do so much and so rightly, it would be a great misfortune and a harm and loss to the world if ye were to abandon them. I do not know who she is who has brought you to such a state, but it seems to me that if in only one woman were found all the goodness and beauty that were in all others, such a man as you should not be lost over her."

"My good lord," Amadis said, "I do not seek counsel about that, for I do not need it, but I ask you to advise my soul and that it please you to take me with you, and if ye do not, I have no other remedy but to die on this mountain."

The good man began to weep with great sorrow, and tears fell down his beard, which was long and white, and he said:

"My son and lord, I dwell in a place very isolated and difficult to live in, which is a hermitage a full seven leagues out in the sea on a high rock with cliffs so sheer that no boat can dock there except in summer. I have lived there thirty years, and he who would live there must leave behind the delights and pleasures of the world. I survive by the alms that people on land give me."

"All that," Amadis said, "is to my liking, and it would please me to pass such little life as remains for me with you. I beg you for the love of God to grant me this."

The good man granted this much against his will, and Amadis told him:

"Now tell me what to do, father, and I shall be obedient in everything."

The good man gave Amadis his blessing and said vespers, then he took bread and fish from his saddlebags and told Amadis to eat, but he did not, although he had spent three days without eating.

The priest said:

"Ye are in my command, and I order you to eat, and if not, your soul will be in great peril if you die."

Then Amadis ate, although very little, for he could not free himself from his great anguish. And when it was time to sleep, the good man lay down on his cloak and Amadis at his feet, but all night he did nothing more that toss and turn and sigh with sorrow. But finally, tired and overcome by exhaustion, he slept, and he dreamed he had been locked in a dark room and could see nothing. He could not find the way out and his heart felt troubled. Then it seemed that his cousin Mabilia and the Damsel of Denmark came to him and before them there was a sunray that took away the darkness and lit the room. They took him by the hands and said:

"My lord, leave this great palace," and they seemed to have great joy, and when he left he saw his lady Oriana surrounded by great tongues of fire, and he shouted:

"Holy Mary, help her!" He ran through the fire but did not feel a thing, and he took her in his arms and carried her to a garden, the most green and beautiful that he had ever seen.

His shouts woke the good man, who took him by the hand and asked him what was the matter. He said:

"My lord, I was sleeping with great anguish and almost died."

"So it seemed by your shouts," he said, "but it is time for us to go."

Then he mounted his ass and got on the road. Amadis went on foot with him, but the good man made him mount his horse, which he did only on orders, and thus they left together as ye hear. Amadis begged him that he grant him a favor that would cost him nothing, which he readily agreed to. Amadis asked him that while he lived with him not to tell anyone who he was nor anything about his situation and not to call him by name but by some other that he chose, and when he was dead, to notify his brothers so that they could take him to his land.

"Your life and death is in God," he said, "and do not speak any more of it, for He will give ye help if ye know Him and serve and love Him as ye ought. But tell me, what name would ye wish to have?"

"The one that ye hold to be good," he said.

The good man looked at him and how handsome and well built he was and how he was suffering, and he said:

"I wish to give ye a name that conforms to your personage and to your anguish, for ye are young and handsome and your life has been placed in bitterness and in gloom. I wish ye to have the name Beltenebros [Handsome Gloom]."

Amadis was pleased and held the good man to be wise for having given him such a reasonable name, and he was called by that name for as long as he lived with him, and for a long time afterwards he was praised by it no less than he was by Amadis for the great things that he did, as shall be told further on.

So speaking about this and other things, they arrived at the sea after night had fallen, and they found a ship there to take the good man to his hermitage. Beltenebros gave his horse to the sailors, and they gave him a leather tunic and tabard of thick brown wool. They boarded the boat and went to the rock, and Beltenebros asked the good man what they called the place when he lived and what his name was.

"The place," he said, "is called Poor Rock, because there no one can live except in great poverty, and my name is Andalod, and I was a very learned cleric and spent my youth in great vanity, but God, by His mercy, made me understand that those who serve Him have great difficulties and obstacles in dealing with people. Due to our weakness, we are inclined to evil instead of good, and that is why I decided to retreat to place with such solitude, where I have spent thirty years and have never left it until now to go to my sister's interment."

Beltenebros was very taken by the solitude and isolation of that place, and thought that dying there would give him some rest. And so they sailed in the ship until they arrived at the rock. The hermit told the sailors:

"Go back."

They returned to shore in their ship, and Beltenebros considered the narrow and blessed life of the good man, and with many tears and groans not from devotion but from hopelessness, he believed that he could live there and bear everything with him for the rest of his life, which sadly would not be long.
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Chapter 48 [first part]

2011-09-06T09:46:00.004+02:00

How Sir Galaor, Florestan, and Agrajes left to search for Amadis, and how Amadis abandoned his arms, changed his name, and retired with an elderly priest in a hermitage to lead a solitary life.

[Modern joust re-enactment in Livermore, California. Sir Quint of the Knights of Avalon on a Clydesdale draft horse. Photo by David Ball.]

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Ye have already been told how Amadis left Firm Island in great sorrow and so secretly that his brothers Sir Galaor and Sir Florestan and his cousin Agrajes did not know about it; and how he had Ysanjo promise not to speak of it until the next day after Mass. And so Ysanjo did, for having heard Mass, they asked about Amadis, and he told them:

"Arm yourselves and I shall tell you his orders."

And when they were armed, Ysanjo began to sob and said:

"Oh, my lords, what sorrow and pain have come upon us, for our lord was with us so little time!"

Then he told them how Amadis had left the castle in grief and mourning, and everything he had ordered Ysanjo to tell them, and what he ordered done in that land, and how he begged them not to follow him, and that by no means could they give him aid or comfort, and that, by God, not to be saddened by his death.

"Oh, Holy Mary, help us," they said. "The best knight in the world is going to die, so we must ignore his orders and go look for him, and if we cannot give him comfort with our lives, our deaths shall accompany his."

Ysanjo told Sir Galaor that Amadis had wanted him to make Gandalin a knight and to take Ardian the dwarf with him, and Ysanjo told them this weeping bitterly, and they did the same. Galaor took the dwarf into his arms, who had been grieving and beating his head on a wall, and told him:

"Ardian, come with me as thy lord has ordered, for what becomes of me shall become of thee."

The dwarf said:

"My lord, I shall serve you, but not as my lord until I know for certain about Amadis."

Then they mounted their horses, and Ysanjo showed them the road that Amadis had taken. All three rode all day without finding anyone to question. Then they saw Patin, who lay injured and his horse dead. His squires, who had arrived, were cutting wood and branches to make a litter to carry him, for he was very weak from the blood he had lost, and he could tell them nothing.

He gestured for them to leave him alone, and they asked the squires who had injured the knight. They said they did not know except that when they had arrived, he told them he had jousted with a knight who had come from the Firm Island and who had easily knocked him down in the first encounter and with one blow of the sword had caused that wound and killed his horse, and after he had left, he said that he had learned from a page that the knight was the one who had won the lordship of the Firm Island.

Sir Galaor told them:

"Good squires, did ye see where the knight went?"

"No," they said, "but before we arrived here we saw an armed knight in this forest on a fine horse, weeping and cursing his fate, and a squire behind him who carried his arms. On the shield there was a field of gold and two purple lions an it, and the squire was also sobbing."

They said:

"That is him."

Then they went in that direction as fast as they could ride, and when they left the forest they found a great field in which there were roads in all directions, and all of them had tracks, so they could not be sure which was Amadis's. Thus they agreed to part, and in order to find out what each had learned in their search in the lands where they traveled, they would be united on the day of Saint John [June 24] in the court of King Lisuarte. If at that time their efforts ran so contrary that they had learned nothing of him, they would make another pact.

Then they embraced each other, weeping, and separated, holding firmly in their hearts the desire to do all they could finish their search with success. But this was in vain, and however many lands they traversed, where great and very dangerous feats of arms befell them, and despite their mighty and brave hearts filled with great hopes, their fate was to find nothing at all. Their adventures shall not be here recounted because their search failed and went unfulfilled.

That was because when Amadis left Patin, he rode through the forest and when he came out, he found a field in which there were many roads, and he left on none of them so that he would leave no track. He entered a valley and rode up a mountain, and he was so lost in thought that his horse went where it would. At midday the horse had reached some trees on the bank of a rivulet that came down the mountain, and due to the heat and the long night of toil, it stopped there.

Amadis took note of his surroundings again, and looked all around and saw no town, which gave him great pleasure. Then he dismounted and drank some water, and Gandalin, who had been riding behind him, arrived. He took the horses and put them where they could graze on the grass, returned to his lord, and found him so dazed that he seemed more dead than alive, but he did not dare revive him from his sorrow, and lay down in front of him.

Amadis recovered from his thoughts when the sun was about to set, got up, kicked Gandalin, and said:

"Art thou sleeping or what art thou doing?"

"I am not sleeping," he said, "but I am thinking about two things that deal with you, and if ye wish to hear them, I shall tell you. If not, I shall not."

Amadis told him:

"Go and saddle the horses for I must go, since I do not want anyone who searches for me to find me."

"My lord," Gandalin said, "ye are in a secluded place, and your horse is so weak and tired that if ye do not let it rest it will not bear you."

Amadis told him, weeping:

"Do what ye thing best, for neither staying nor riding shall I find rest."

Gandalin cared for the horses, returned to him, and asked him to eat a meat turnover he had brought, but he did not wish to, so he said:

"My lord, do ye wish me to tell you the two things that I thought about?"

"Say what thou wishest," he said, "for I give nothing about anything said or done, and do not wish to live any longer in this world after I have had confession."

Gandalin said:

"Still, my lord, I ask you to listen to me." Then he said:

"I have thought a lot about the letter that Oriana sent you and about the words that the knight that ye fought said. And as the will of many women is very fickle and they change their love from some men to others, it could be that Oriana has strayed from you and wished to pretend to be angry at you before ye found out. The other thing is that I hold her to be so good and loyal that she would not be so moved unless something false had been told her about you that she held to be true, loving you as firmly with her heart as yours must for her.

"And since ye know that ye have never strayed, if something false has been told to her, she will eventually learn the truth, that ye are blameless, so she will not only repent for what she has done, but with great humility she will ask forgiveness, and ye shall return to her with the great delights that your heart desires. Would it not be better to wait for this remedy and to eat and to take such consolation that life may sustain itself, than to die with such little hope and spirit that ye shall lose her and ye shall lose both the honor of this world and what ye may have in the next world?"

"By God, be quiet!" Amadis said. "Thou hast said such madness and lies that it would enrage all the world. Thou hast said things to console me that thou dost not believe to be true, for my lady Oriana has never erred in anything, and if I die it is not because I deserve it but because with it I fulfill her will and orders. And if I did not understand that thou hast said it to console me, I would cut off thy head. Know that thou hast made me very angry, and from here on do not dare to say anything like that to me again."

He left Gandalin and walked down river, so lost in thought that he lost all sense of himself. Gandalin fell asleep as one who had not slept for two days and one night. When Amadis returned, now sensible to his surroundings, he saw how Gandalin slept so deeply, went to saddle his horse, hid Gandalin's saddle and reins in some deep brush so he could not follow him, took his arms, and entered the thickest part of the mountain forest very angry at Gandalin for what he had said.
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On August break

2011-07-28T10:18:00.000+02:00

As is customary in Spain, this blog will take an August vacation.

Last August, I attended a Renaissance fair in Navalcarnero, a small town near Madrid. The annual fair recreates the wedding of King Felipe IV and Marian de Austria held there in 1649. Photo by Jerry Finn.

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As usual, I'll take a break in August, giving both you and me time to rest and prepare for the fall.

The story will resume on September 6, and we will soon learn the answers to thrilling questions: Can Gandalin talk sense into Amadis? What will Durin tell Oriana, and what will she do? Will you be able to put Amadis's sad song in Chapter 51 to music?

Meanwhile, if you're in Los Angeles before August 14, you may wish to visit the J. Paul Getty Center's exhibition on Fashion in the Middle Ages. If you can't go, it's worth your while to visit the web page and listen to the explanations of the glamorous, costly outfits:
http://www.getty.edu/art/exhibitions/fashion/index.html

Remember that this blog is licensed under Creative Commons 3.0, so feel free to use your spare time to copy, distribute, display, share, or perform all or any part of it, or to create derivative works — for non-commercial use. Just say where you got it. If you want to do something commercial, I can be very reasonable.
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Chapter 47

2011-07-26T10:08:00.000+02:00

Which recounts who the knight was who had been defeated by Amadis and the things that had happened to him before he was defeated by Amadis.

[Marginalia from the Macclesfield Psalter, produced around 1330.]

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[Translator's note: Patin may mean "petrel," or "small patio," but in any case it is an odd name for a great knight, if he is great.]

That injured knight whom we have just told you about was named Patin, and he was the brother of Sir Sidon, who at that time was Emperor of Rome. He was the best knight at arms of all those lands, so he was very feared by all those who lived in the empire. Because the Emperor was very old and had no heir, everyone thought that Patin would succeed him.

He loved a Queen of Cerdena named Sardamira, who was a woman with a fine figure and a beautiful damsel. Being the niece of the Empress, she had been raised in the imperial house, and he had served her so well that she had to promise that if she were to marry, she would sooner marry him than anyone else. When Patin heard this, he felt the greater pride than usual, which was no small amount, and he told her:

"My beloved, I have heard tell that King Lisuarte has a daughter who is praised by everyone for her great beauty, and I wish to go to his court and will say that she is not as beautiful as you. I shall fight the two best knights who say the contrary, for they tell me that the knights there are very esteemed at arms. And if I do not defeat them in one day, I will tell the King to order my head cut off."

"Do not do this," the Queen said, "for if that damsel is very beautiful, it takes nothing away from what God gave me, if He gave me anything. Ye may more reasonably and less arrogantly demonstrate your skill by some other means. In addition, since putting yourself in this cause is unreasonable and arrogant, it is not proper for a man of such high estate as yours, and it can come to no good end."

"Whatever happens," he said, "I tell you this to place myself in your service. I have great love for you, and this shows that since ye are the most beautiful woman in the world, ye are loved by the best knight that ye could ever find."

And this he departed from her, and with his fine arms and ten squires, he traveled to Great Britain and immediately went to where he knew King Lisuarte was. The King, when he saw him with such accompaniment, thought he was a man of means and received him well. When he had disarmed, everyone saw how he was well built and for that reason ought to be very valiant.

The King asked him who he was. He told him:

"King, I shall tell you, for I did not come to your court to hide myself but to make myself known. Know that I am Patin, brother of the Emperor of Rome, and as soon as I see the Queen and her daughter Oriana, ye shall know why I have come.

When the King heard he was a man of such high estate, he embraced him and told him:

"My good friend, I am very pleased by your arrival, and ye shall see the queen and her daughter and all the other ladies in my court when you please."

Then he sat with him at a table, where they ate as was fit at the table of such a man. Patin looked everywhere, and when he saw so many knights, he was amazed and thought the court of his brother the Emperor was nothing in comparison, nor any other court that he had seen. Sir Grumedan took him to his lodging at the orders of the King and did him many honors.

The next day, after having heard Mass, the King took Patin and Sir Grumedan with him and went to the Queen, who already knew who he was from the King. She received him and had him sit before her and next to her daughter, who had lost much of her usual beauty due to the ire that ye have already heard of.

When Patin saw Oriana he was astonished and said to himself that everyone who had praised her had not described half of her beauty, and his heart was changed by what he had seen and set itself on having her by any means. He thought that since he was of such great estate and so outstanding and would have an empire, if he were to ask to wed her he would not be denied, so he took the King and Queen aside and said:

"I have come to your court to marry your daughter, and this is due to your esteem and her beauty, and if I ever wished any other lady of such great means, I would find her because of who I am and what I expect to have."

The King said:

"I am very grateful for what ye have said, but the Queen and I have promised our daughter not to marry her against her will, so we must speak to her before responding to you."

The King said this so he would not alienate Patin, but he did not have the heart to give her to him nor to anyone else who would take her from the land where he was lord. Patin was very happy with this answer and waited there five days thinking he would get what he wanted so badly, but neither the King nor the Queen said anything to their daughter, thinking him delirious.

But Patin asked the King one day how it went with his wedding, and he told him:

"I am doing what I can, but you must speak with my daughter and ask her to do as I order."

Patin went to Oriana and told her:

"My lady Oriana, I wish to ask something of you that would be much to your honor and advantage."

"What thing is it?" she said.

"That you do as your father orders," he said.

She did not know why he had said that to her, and told him:

"I shall willingly do this, for I am very sure that I will get these two things that ye say, honor and advantage."

Patin was very happy with her reply for he felt sure he had won her, and he said:

"I wish to travel through these lands to seek adventures, and soon ye shall hear many things said about me which will give you more reason to grant that which I desire."

He also said that to the King, and that he wished to depart immediately to see the wonders of his land. The King told him:

"That is yours to do, but if ye listen to me, ye would not do so, for ye shall find great adventures and dangers, and very strong and sturdy knights accomplished at arms."

"All of that," he said, "would please me greatly, and if they are so strong and spirited, they shall not find me poor and weak, as my deeds shall tell you."

And he said goodbye and went on his way very happy about Oriana's response, and that is why he went singing as ye have heard when his misfortune guided him to the place where Amadis was mourning. This is the reason why the knight had come to such a far-off land.

Now, returning to the matter at hand, the day was already bright when Durin left Amadis, and he passed by where Patin lay injured. He had removed what remained of his helmet from his head, and his face and neck were covered with blood. When he saw Durin, he said:

"Good page, may God make you a good man, tell me if you know someplace near here where I can get this wound treated."

"Yes, I know," he said, "but the people there are so afflicted with sorrow that they will not pay attention to anything else."

"Why is that?" the knight said.

"Because of a knight," Durin said, "who had won lordship of the land and seen the images and secrets of Apolidon and his beloved, which no one has been able to see until now, but he left there with such great sorrow that he is not expected to live."

"It seems to me," the knight said, "that ye are speaking of the Firm Island."

"That is true," Durin said.

"What?" the knight said. "It already has a lord? God have mercy on me! I was going there to test myself and win the lordship."

Durin smiled and said:

"Truly, knight, unless ye are hiding some of your skill and have not shown it here, it would do ye little good, and in fact I think it would be to your dishonor."

The knight stood up as best he could and tried to grab the reins of Durin's horse, who backed away, and since the knight could not reach them, he said:

"Page, tell me who the knight was who won the Firm Island."

"First tell me who ye are," Durin said.

"Ye shall have that without delay," he said. "Know that I am Patin, brother of the Emperor of Rome."

"Merciful God!" Durin said. "Ye have better lineage than skill at arms or good sense. Now know that the knight about whom ye ask was the one who left you, and from what ye have seen of him, ye may well believe that he was deserving and worthy of winning what he won."

And Durin left him and went on his way. He took the fastest road to London, very anxious to tell Oriana all that he had seen of Amadis.
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Chapter 46

2011-07-12T11:03:00.000+02:00

How Gandalin and Durin trailed Amadis to bring him the arms he had left behind, and how they found him, and how he fought with a knight and defeated him.

[A suit of jousting armor on display at Segovia Castle. Photo by Sue Burke.]

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Gandalin remained in the hermitage with the others as ye heard, and when he saw Amadis leave, he said as he wept fiercely:

"I shall not remain here, instead I shall follow him even though he prohibited it, for I must bring him his arms."

And Durin told him:

"I wish to accompany you this night, and it would give me much pleasure if we found him returned to better judgement."

Then, mounting their horses, they said goodbye to Ysandro and took the road Amadis had taken. Ysandro went to his castle and fell on his bed, full of sorrow. Gandalin and Durin entered the forest and rode everywhere, and luck guided them to where Amadis was. His horse neighed when it heard the other horses, so they knew he was there. They went slowly through the brush so he would not hear them, for they did not dare to be seen by him, and when they were close, they dismounted.

Gandalin went stealthily on and came to the spring and saw that Amadis was sleeping on the grass. He took Amadis's horse and returned with it to where Durin was waiting, and they took the bridles off all the horses and let them graze and eat green shoots. They remained quiet, and soon Amadis awoke. His sleep had not been restful and his heart shook. He stood and saw that the moon was setting and a good part of the night remained, and the forest was still.

He sat again and said:

"Oh, fickle and rootless fate! Why didst thou place me at such height among all knights if so easily thou wouldst make me fall? Now I see well that thou canst cause more harm in one hour than the all good thou couldst do in a thousand years, for if thou gavest me delights and pleasures in the past, thou hast cruelly stolen them. Thou hast left me in greater bitterness than death. And since thou wert pleased to do so, thou shouldst have balanced one with the other, for thou well knowest that if in the past thou didst give me some ease and rest, it was mixed with great anguish and concern. Yet with the cruelty that thou dost now torment me, thou hast not even given me any hope where my troubled life might find refuge in some little corner.

"But thou hast fulfilled the job thou wert given, which runs contrary to mankind's mortal expectations, for we believe true and durable those fleeting honors, pomp, and vain glories that thou givest us. We hold them tight and forget that in addition to the torments our bodies endure to obtain them, at the end of our lives our souls are put in great danger and their salvation in doubt. But if, with the clear vision that our Lord on high gave us, though obscured by our passions and affections, we tried to see thy changes, and we would realize it is better to have adversity than prosperity, because prosperity is agreeable to our characters and appetites, and by sustaining ourselves with those sweet delights and expecting them in our future, in the end we fall into bitterness and depths without repair. Adversary is the opposite, not to reason but to desire, and if we cast aside greedy desires, we will be raised from the depths to the heights in perpetual glory.

"What shall I do? Neither my judgement nor my weak strength are enough to resist such grave temptation, for if the world were mine and thou wert to take it from me, leaving only the will of my lady, that would be enough to maintain me in high good fortune. But without her, I cannot maintain my own life.

"I declare that thy cruelty to me is beyond compare. For every moment and hour that death does not take me, I beg thee to repay me, for I have been such a loyal servant of thine. If it is granted to thee to take my life and end these torments, take it, having pity for what thou knowest that I suffer by living."

And having said that, he fell quiet and spent a time prostate and weeping, unaware of himself, then he said:

"Oh, my lady Oriana! Ye have brought me death by the refusal ye have done me, and I may not refuse your orders, and by keeping them I do not keep my life. Instead I receive this senseless death, which I ache to receive, for with it your will shall be satisfied, and while I have life, whatever be your pleasure, I would exchange it a thousand times for death.

"If your anger had had a worthy cause, I would bear the punishment, and ye, my lady, might rest easy and live lightly because your ire had been justly executed, and wherever my soul might go, it would find great rest in your pleasure. But as I am without blame and ye know the cruelty ye do to me is more through passion than reason, from now during what remains of my life and then in the next life, I shall weep and wail the sorrow and great pain that will befall you because of me and even more for having no remedy, when my life is over."

Then he said this:

"Oh, King Perion of Gaul, my father and my lord, not knowing the cause of my death, with what little reason shall ye mourn! Instead, in keeping with your great worth and esteemed sons, ye must take consolation, because as I was obligated to emulate your great deeds, now abhorred and desperate, as a miserable knight who cannot resist the hard blows of fortune, I shall take death as my consolation and remedy. If ye knew why, I am sure ye would not blame me, but may it please God that ye do not know, for your sorrow cannot remedy mine and instead, I would regret it and my sorrow would grow ever larger."

Having said this, he was quiet for a little while, but then, with great weeping and groaning, he said:

"Oh, good and loyal knight, my foster father Gandales! I bear great sorrow for you because my misfortunes have not let me reward you with anything as great as what I received from you, because you, my good foster father, took me from the sea when I was as small, born that very night. Ye gave me life and raised me, and if during my earliest days I grew with you and in my final days I should die with you, my spirit would depart this world with comfort. But since I cannot do that, I shall always love you dearly."

And he also spoke thusly of his loyal friend Angriote d'Estravaus, King Arban of North Wales, Guilan the Pensive, and his other great friends, and finally he said:

"Oh, Mabilia, my cousin and lady, and ye, good Damsel of Denmark! Where has your help and aide tarried so long that ye have let me be killed? Truly, my good friends, I would not tarry to help you if ye needed my aid. Now I clearly see, since ye have deserted me, that the whole world is against me and everyone has a stake in my death."

And he was quiet and said no more, groaning deeply, and Gandalin and Durin, who heard him, felt great sorrow but did not dare to come before him.

While this was happening, a knight passed along a nearby road singing, and when he had come near Amadis, he began to say:

"Love, love, I have much to thank you for, for the good that ye have brought me and the great height ye have raised me to above all other knights, always taking me from good to better. Ye have made me love the very beautiful Queen Sardamira, and I believe that, surprisingly, I have won her heart with the honor I shall carry from this land. And now, ye have given me greater good fortune and made me love the daughter of the best king in the world. She is the beautiful Oriana, who has no equal in this world. Love, ye have made me love her and ye have given me the strength to serve her."

After he said this, he went beneath a large tree that was next to the road, where he wished to wait until morning. But something else happened to him, because Gandalin said to Durin:

"Stay here. I want to go and see what Amadis intends to do."

He went to Amadis and found that he had already gotten up and was looking for his horse, which he could not find. When he saw Gandalin, he said:

"What man art thou, and why art thou here? Please tell me."

"My lord," he said, "I am Gandalin, and I wish to bring you your horse."

Amadis said:

"Who told thee to come here against my prohibition? Know that thou hast done me a great wrong. Go, give me my horse and go on thy way, and do not remain here any longer. If not, thou shalt make me kill thee and me."

"My lord," Gandalin said, "by God, stop that and tell me if ye heard the madness that a knight over there just said."

He said this to raise some anger in him and make him forget his grief. Amadis told him:

"I did hear what he said, which is why I want my horse, so I can leave here, for I have been here too long."

"What?" Gandalin said. "You will not do anything to that knight?"

"And what ought I to do?" Amadis said.

"You should fight him," Gandalin said, "and make him pay for his madness."

Amadis said:

"Thou art mad to say this. Thou knowest that I have no mind nor heart or strength, that all was lost when I lost the favor of my lady, because everything came from her and not from me. And since she has taken all this, thou knowest that I am no better for fighting than a dead knight, and in all Great Britain, there is no knight so miserable and weak that he could not easily kill me. So if he were to fight me, I tell thee that I am the most defeated and hopeless knight in the world."

Gandalin told him:

"My lord, it greatly troubles me that your heart and skill has failed at this time, and by God, speak softly, for Durin is over there, and he heard your laments and everything the knight said."

"What?" Amadis said. "Durin is here?"

"Yes," he said, "we came here together, and I think he came here to see what ye would do because he wants to find out and tell whoever sent him."

Amadis said:

"What thou hast told me gives me sorrow."

But knowing that Durin was there, his heart and strength rose, and he said:

"Now give me the horse and take me to the knight."

Gandalin brought him the horse and his arms, and he mounted and took up his weapons. Gandalin went to show him the knight, and soon they saw him beneath a tree, where he held his horse's reins. Amadis came closer and told him:

"Knight, ye who is resting, it is time ye got up so we can see if ye know how to keep that love in you that ye have praised."

The knight got up and said:

"Who art thou to challenge me thus? Now thou shalt see how I keep my love, if thou wishest to fight, for I shall put fear into thee and all those who are bereft of love."

"Now we shall see," Amadis said, "for I am among those bereft by it, and I alone shall never trust it because for all the great service I did it, it gave me a poor reward that I did not deserve. I shall say more to you, sir knight in love: I found seven times more lies than truth in love. Now come and prove yourself, and we shall see if it wins more with you than it lost with me."

And as Amadis said this, he became irate, as one whom his lady had abandoned without the slightest reason. The knight mounted and took up his arms, and he said:

"Ye, knight, desperado of love and despising everything worthwhile that ye can speak ill of, if love has deserted you, it did so wisely, for someone like yourself does not deserve to accompany and serve it, and when it saw that ye were not worthy, it fled from you. Go away now, and do not stay here any longer, for merely seeing you makes me very angry, and any weapon I would use against you I would disdain because of that."

And he tried to leave. Amadis told him:

"Knight, either ye do not wish to defend love with more than words, or ye are a coward."

"Why knight," he said, "I was leaving because I thought thee unworthy and thou thinkest that it was out of fear. Thou hast sought thy own injury. Now be on guard, if thou canst."

Then they charged their horses as fast and as hard as they could, and their lances struck each others' shields, which yielded, and the lances were stopped by their coats of mail, which were very strong. The knight in love fell directly to the ground, but while he fell he kept the reins in his hand and immediately remounted as one who was brave and quick.

Amadis told him:

"If ye cannot defend love better with a sword than a lance, the reward ye have won is poorly used."

The knight made no reply at all, but drew his sword angrily and attacked. Amadis, who had his sword in his hand, came toward him and they both fought. The knight struck him in the boss of his shield, so the blow was deflected and his sword sunk a palm deep into the shield. When he tried to pull it out, he could not.

Amadis grasped his sword tight, rose up in his stirrups, and gave him a great blow on the top of his helmet, which cut everything it met including the hood of his chain mail down to the inner helmet, and the sword continued down and hit the neck of the horse and cut halfway through. Both man and beast fell to the ground, and the horse died immediately, and the knight was so stunned that he did not know where he was.

Amadis, who saw him lying still, waited a while to see if he would come to, for he thought he might be dead, and when he saw him move, he said:

"Knight, whatever love has won with you and you with it, ye can have it, for I wish to leave."

And he left, and called Gandalin, and saw that Durin was with him and had seen everything, and told him:

"My friend Durin, there is no equal to my abandonment, and my sorrow and solitude is beyond bearing, and I wish to die. May it please God that it comes soon. Death shall be a comfort from the cruel and living pain that torments me. Now go with good fortune and give my regards to Mabilia, my good cousin, and to the good Damsel of Denmark, thy sister, and tell them to mourn me, for I am going to die of the greatest injustice that ever killed any knight in the world. Tell them of the great sorrow I have in my heart for them, for they loved me so much and did so much for me but I gave them nothing in return."

He said this weeping so hard it was amazing. And Durin stood before him weeping, thus he could not respond. Amadis embraced him and commended him to God, and Durin kissed the hem of his chain mail and said goodbye.

Then it seemed that dawn was approaching, and Amadis said to Gandalin:

"If thou wishest to come with me, do not stop me in anything I wish to say or do. If not, go at once."

Gandalin answered that he agreed to do so. Amadis gave him his arms and told him to take the sword from the shield and give it back to the knight, and to leave following him.
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Chapter 45

2011-06-28T10:31:00.000+02:00

How Durin left with Oriana's letter to Amadis, and when Amadis saw it, he abandoned everything he had undertaken and in desperation left secretly for the forest.

[A page depicted on the pedestal of the monument to Christopher Columbus in the Plaza de Colón in Madrid. Photo by Sue Burke.]

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Durin complied with the order of Oriana and immediately left on a very fast horse, and within ten days he had arrived in Sobradisa, where the beautiful Queen Briolanja was. When he had arrived in her presence, she appeared to be the most beautiful woman he had ever seen after Oriana. He learned from her how Amadis and his brothers and cousin Agrajes had left two days earlier, and, following their trail, he rode so hard that he arrived at Firm Island at the same time that Amadis passed through the arch of the loyal lovers, and he saw how the copper image did more for him than it had for all others.

However, when Amadis came out because of the news he had learned about his brothers, and Durin saw him with Gandalin, he did not give him the letter, nor afterward, even after Amadis had entered the protected chamber and everyone on the island had received him as their lord. He did this on the advice of Gandalin, who knew it was a letter from Oriana and feared what might be in it, whether good or bad, and that before his lord received title to the island, he might become agitated or swoon. He was sure that in addition, Amadis would abandon everything he had in the world to comply with whatever she might order.

But after things had become calm, Amadis had Durin called to ask him about the news from the court of King Lisuarte. When he arrived, Amadis took him to stroll through an extremely beautiful garden, and, distancing himself from his brothers, said that if Durin had come from the court of King Lisuarte, he should tell him any news that he knew.

In response, Durin said:

"My lord, I left the court in the same situation as it was when ye left, but I come to you with a message from my lady Oriana, and this letter that ye see is the reason I have come."

Amadis took the letter, and although his heart felt great joy, he tried to hide it so that Durin would know nothing about his secret. But his strength and judgement could not hide his sadness when he read the potent and fearful words that came in the letter, and he clearly showed that he felt as if cruel death had come, with so many tears and sighs that it seemed as if his heart had been rent to pieces. He became so faint and insensible that it seemed that his soul had just been taken from his flesh.

Durin had suspected nothing, but after he saw him weeping so hard, he cursed himself and his fate and death itself for not having overcome him before he had arrived.

Amadis, who could not remain standing, sat on the grass that was there and picked up the letter that had fallen from his hands, and when he saw the writing on the envelope that said, "I am the damsel whose heart has been wounded at sword-point, and ye are the one who attacked me," his sorrow was so beyond measure that for a time he seemed dead. Durin was very frightened and wanted to call his brothers, but because that would reveal Amadis's secret, he feared it would make him irate.

When Amadis had recovered, he said with great grief:

"My Lord God, why does it please you to give me death without deserving it?"

And then he said:

"Oh, loyalty, what a foul prize ye give to he who has never failed you. Ye made my lady fail me, yet ye know that I would rather suffer death a thousand times than fail to follow her orders."

He picked up the letter again and said:

"Ye are the cause of my sorrowful end, and so that death may overcome me sooner, ye shall come with me."

He put it in the breast of his tunic, and he told Durin:

"Did she order thee to tell me anything else?"

"No," he said.

"Then shalt thou carry back my reply?" Amadis said.

"No, my lord," he said. "I am prohibited to take it."

"And Mabilia or thy sister, did they tell thee anything to say to me?"

"They did not know that I was coming," Durin said. "My lady's orders were a secret from them."

"Oh, Holy Mary help me!" Amadis said. "Now I see that my sad fate is without remedy."

Then he went to a stream that flowed from a spring and washed his face and eyes, and told Durin to get Gandalin and to come back with him alone. He did so, and when they returned, they found him as if dead, and he spent a long time lost in thought. When he recovered, he told them to call Ysanjo, the governor, and when he came, he said:

"I want ye to promise me as a loyal knight that ye shall say nothing to my brothers about what ye shall now see until after they have heard Mass."

He promised, as did the two squires, and then he ordered Ysanjo to have the gate to the castle opened secretly, and Gandalin to bring his arms and horse outside it without anyone knowing.

They did so, and he remained thinking about his dream the night before:

He somehow found himself armed and on his horse on a knoll covered with trees, and around him many people were joyful. A man arrived among them who told him:

"My lord, eat what I bring in this box."

And he gave it to him to eat, and it seemed to taste like the bitterest thing that could be found. It made him feel very faint and uncomfortable, and he dropped the reins of his horse, which went where it wished. It seemed that the people who had been joyous had become so sad that he felt sorrow over it, but the horse fled far from them and entered some trees.

There he saw a place formed by some stones surrounded by water. He dismounted and removed his armor, and he went there with hopes to rest. An old man arrived dressed as a friar, took him by the hand, came close and, showing pity, said some words to him in a language he could not understand.

At that he had awoken. And now it seemed that however in vain he had held that dream before, it had turned out to be true. After he had thought about this for a while, he took Durin with him, and, hiding his face from his brothers and from everyone else so that they would not see his emotions, he went to the gate of the castle, where he found the sons of Ysanjo. They had the gate open, and Ysanjo was outside. Amadis told him:

"Come with me. Have your sons stay behind and tell them to say nothing of this."

Then they both went to the hermitage that was at the foot of a rocky peak, and Gandalin and Durin went with him. Amadis was sighing and groaning with such anguish and grief that those who saw him were sorrowful at the sight. He asked for his armor, he put it on, and he asked Ysanjo to what saint the church belonged. He said the Virgin Mary, and that miracles happened there often. Amadis went inside and knelt on the floor, weeping, and said:

"My Lady Virgin Mary, consolation and aid for those in tribulation, to You, my Lady, I commend myself. Intercede for me with your glorious Son so that He has mercy on me. And if Your will is that my body have no remedy, have mercy on my soul in my final hours, for I have no hope but death."

Then he called Ysanjo and told him:

"I want ye to promise me as a loyal knight to do what I shall tell you here."

Turning to Gandalin, he took him in his arms and sobbed, and held him a while unable to speak. Finally he said:

"My good friend Gandalin, I and thou were raised drinking the same milk, and we gave been together all our lives. I was never in travail or danger without thou taking part. Thy father took me from the sea as small as if I had been borne that night, and thy father and mother raised me well and with much love. And thou, my loyal friend, hast never thought to do anything but serve me. I had hoped that God would give me some honor that I could use to give thee what thou dost deserve. But now this great tragedy has befallen me which I hold to be more cruel than death itself, and thus we must part. I have nothing to leave thee except this island, and I order Ysanjo and all the others for the homage they have done me, that when they learn of my death, they take thee as their lord. And although this realm shall be thine, I order that thy father and mothers may enjoy it in their days and after that it shall be freely thine. This is for having raised me, for my fate has not left me time to fulfill all that they deserve and that I wish I could give."

Then he told Ysanjo to use some of the income he had collected from the island to erect a monastery there in honor of the Virgin Mary where thirty friars could live, and to provide them funds to sustain themselves.

Gandalin told him:

"My lord, ye never had to fear that I would leave you, and I shall not now for any reason. If ye were to die, I do not wish to live, and after your death may God never give me honor nor realms, so what ye wish to give me, instead give to one of your brothers, for I shall not take it nor do I deserve it."

"Be quiet, by God!" Amadis said. "Do not say such madness nor give me sorrow, for thou never hast before, and do as I wish, for my brothers are so blessed and of such great prowess at arms that they can easily win great lands and realms for themselves and even enough to give some to others."

Then he said:

"Oh, Ysanjo! My good friend, I am very sorry to not have time to give you the honors that ye deserve, but I leave you among those who shall do so for me."

Ysanjo, weeping, told him:

"My lord, I ask ye to take me with you, and I shall suffer what ye do, and I ask this in payment of what ye would give me."

"My friend," Amadis said, "I know that ye would do so, but my suffering can find no help except in God, and I want Him to guide me by His mercy with no one to accompany me."

And he said to Gandalin:

"My friend, if thou wishest to be a knight, become one now with my arms, which thou hast cared for so well that they ought to be thine, and which I shall have little need of. If not, go with my brother Sir Galaor, and have Ysanjo tell him on my behalf to take thee, and serve him and protect him in my place. Know that I always loved him above all others in my family. My heart is heavy for him above all others, as it should because he is the best and was always very humble with me, which now gives me double sadness. Tell him that I commend my dwarf Ardian to him, and he should take him with him and never forsake him, and tell the dwarf to live with him and serve him."

When they heard this, they felt great grief, but they made no response to avoid angering him. Amadis embraced them saying:

"I commend you to God, for I never expect to see you again."

He forbid them to follow him in any way, spurred his horse before they could remind him to take his helmet or shield or lance, and quickly entered a thickly forested mountain, going wherever the horse wished to take him. Thus he rode until past midnight lost to his surroundings until the horse found a little ravine of water that came from a spring, and, thirsty, followed the stream until it could drink from the spring, letting branches of trees strike Amadis in the face. That brought him back to his senses and he looked around but saw nothing except thick underbrush, and he was happy, believing he was far away and hidden.

While his horse drank, he dismounted. Then he tied it to a tree, and sat on the grass to mourn, but as he wept, his head sank lower and lower, and so he fell asleep.
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Chapter 44 [final part]

2011-06-14T10:21:00.000+02:00

[How Amadis became lord of Firm Island, and how disaster followed.]

[Art from the 1526 edition of Amadis of Gaul, printed by Jacobo and Juan Cromberger in Seville.]

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Sir Galaor and Florestan, who were waiting for Amadis and Agrajes outside the arch, saw that they were taking their time, so they decided to go to see the protected chamber, and they asked Ysanjo, the governor, to show it to them. He said that it would please him, and took them to see the chamber from a distance and the pillars that ye have heard of.

Sir Florestan said:

"My lord brother, what do ye wish to do?"

"Nothing," he said, "for I have never willingly become involved with enchantments."

"Then rest here," Sir Florestan said, "for I wish to see what I can do."

Then, commending himself to God, raising his shield before himself and with his sword in hand, he advanced. When he entered the enchanted area surrounding the chamber, he felt himself attacked on all sides by great blows with lances and swords, so many of them that it seemed that no man could survive. But since he was strong and valiant of heart, he could only go forward, attacking here and there with his sword, and from what he felt with his hand, he seemed to strike armed men but his sword could not cut them. So he passed the copper pillar and reached the marble one, but then he fell and could go no further, for he had lost all his strength. And then he was thrown out of the area, as had been done to the others.

Sir Galaor, when he saw that, felt very sorry for him and said:

"Regardless of what my will had been regarding this test, I shall not fail to take part in the danger."

He ordered the squires and the dwarf to remain with Florestan and splash cold water on his face. He took up his arms, commended himself to God, and went toward the door of the chamber. Immediately many hard and powerful blows struck him on all sides, and with great difficulty he reached the marble column. He held it and waited for a while, but when he took another step forward, he was attacked with so many blows that he could withstand them no more and fell to the earth, and like Sir Florestan, he was so stunned that he did not know if he was alive or dead. Then he was thrown outside like the others.

Amadis and Agrajes, who had spent some time walking through the garden, returned to the statues and saw there, in the jasper, his name written, which said:

"This is Amadis of Gaul, the loyal lover, son of King Perion of Gaul."

And as they enjoyed reading the words, Ardian the dwarf came to the gateway of the arch shouted:

"My lord Amadis, come help, for your brothers are dead!"

When he heard this, he left quickly, with Agrajes behind him, and he asked the dwarf what he meant, who said:

"My lord, your brothers tested themselves at the chamber and did not succeed and were left near dead."

Then they mounted their horses and rode to where they were, and found them in a bad state as ye have heard, although they had grown more conscious. Agrajes, who had a strong heart, quickly dismounted and, as fast as he could, went with his sword in hand toward the chamber, striking on one side and the other. But his strength was not enough to bear the blows that he was given and he fell between the copper and marble columns, stunned like the others, and he was thrown out.

Amadis began to curse having come there, and he said to Sir Galaor, who was now almost recovered:

"Brother, I cannot fail to place my body in the same danger as yours."

Galaor wanted to stop him, but Amadis quickly took up his arms and went ahead, asking God to help him, and when he arrived at the protected area, he paused and said:

"Oh, my lady Oriana, from whom comes all my strength and valor, think of me, my lady, as much as I need your delightful memory at this time!"

And then he went forward and felt himself attacked fiercely on all sides. He arrived at the marble column, and when he passed it, the entire world seemed to be trying to strike him, and he heard a great shout of voices as if the world were falling, and they said:

"If ye turn back this knight, then no one else in the world now may enter here."

But despite his woes, he did not cease to go forward, falling to his hands and knees at times. His sword, with which he had given great blows, had fallen from his hand and hung from its strap, and he could not recover it. And thus he arrived at the door of the chamber and saw a hand that grasped his hand and pulled him inside, and he heard a voice that said:

"Welcome to the knight who surpasses the skill of he who made this enchantment and who in his time had no equal. Ye shall be lord here."

That hand seemed large and hard, as if it belonged to an old man, and the arm was clothed in green and gold silk brocade. And when Amadis was inside the chamber, he was let go and he saw the hand no more, but he felt rested and had regained all his strength. He took the shield from around his neck and the helmet from his head, put his sword in its sheath, and thanked his lady Oriana for the honor that he won in her name.

At this time, everyone in the castle had heard it proclaimed that he had been granted the lordship and saw him in the chamber, and they began to call out:

"Our lord, we have received that which we have desired for so long, praise God!"

The brothers, who had recovered more of their consciousness, saw how Amadis had succeeded where they had failed, and they were happy because of the great love they had for him, and ordered themselves to be carried as they were to the chamber. The governor, with all his men, came to Amadis and kissed his hands as his lord. When they saw the amazingly worked and splendid things there, they were astonished, but these were nothing compared to the chamber where Apolidon and his lover had lived, which was made in such a way that not only could no one duplicate it nor even understand how it was made, it was such that those inside could see clearly what was being done outside, but those outside could in no way see anything within.

There for a time they were all happy, the knights because they had in their family such a knight whose skill surpassed all those in the present world and in the previous one for a hundred years, and those who lived on the island because they had found a lord whom they hoped would be blessed and who would rule over many other lands from that island.

Ysanjo, the governor, said to Amadis:

"My lord, it would be good if ye were to eat and rest, and tomorrow all the noblemen of the land will come here and do you homage, receiving you as their lord."

At that they left, and they entered a great palace, where they ate a well-prepared meal and rested that day. The next day, everyone on the island came together amid fine games and festivities, and they took Amadis as their lord with the pledges of vassalage as were customary in that time and land.

And so as this story has told, Amadis won the Firm Island one hundred years after the handsome Apolidon had left it enchanted, which served as true testimony that in all those years no knight had come who surpassed his skill.

But upon reaching such glory by great deeds at arms, which ought we to judge to be better: to win or to lose? Some men win, and these feel what that knight Amadis might have felt, while others, who expected victory and instead received the opposite, weep at their misadventure. Which of these two extremes is better? I have seen that the first can attract great sins through pride due to human weakness, which has no bounds, and the second, great desperation. Who can chose wisely between them? The reasonable judgement that the true Lord gives to men over all living things tells us that prosperity and adversity shall not last, and the heart that has been indoctrinated and reinforced may judge one against the other and reach a blessed middle course.

But will Amadis of Gaul take this middle course now that fickle Fortune has prepared herself to show him the toxic henbane and poisons that are hidden within these joys and achievements? I think not. Up until now, without measure or pause, favorable things have occurred to him through no combat against Fortune, but now, incomparably, his heart and his reason shall be defeated and subjugated by her, and his mighty arms shall not serve him, nor the sweet memory of his lady, nor the bravura of his heart. But he shall be helped by the great pity of our Lord who came to our world to serve sinners and sufferers. Now ye shall be told of his sorrows and later happiness.

It has already been told in the first part of this great story how Oriana, when she heard the words of the dwarf about the pieces of the sword*, was overcome by ire and rage and so upset that she took no note of the wise counsel offered her by Mabilia and the Damsel of Denmark. Now ye shall be told what she did about it after that day when she gave way to passion and let it grow within her.

Although her habit was to be in the company those damsels, she changed, and, disdaining their presence, spent most of her time alone thinking about how she could avenge her rage and cause sorrow to the one who had enraged her, as he deserved. She decided that since he was not present, in his absence all her feelings could be manifest in writing. When she was alone in her room, she took ink and parchment from their box and wrote a letter that said this:

THE LETTER THAT THE LADY ORIANA SENT TO HER LOVER AMADIS

"My enraged complaint accompanied by complete justification gives rise to cause my weak hand to declare what my sad heart can no longer hide against you, the false and disloyal knight Amadis of Gaul. It is now known the disloyalty and irresolution ye have shown against me, the most miserable and neglected woman in the world. Ye have withdrawn your love for me, whom ye had loved above all things in the world, and given it to she who due to her age has not sufficient discretion for love nor wisdom.

"And because my defeated heart can take no other vengeance, I wish to withdraw all the excessive and misemployed love that I had for you, since it would be a great error to love someone who despises me and to spurn all others as a result of this love and desire.

"Oh, how poorly I used and subjected my heart, since in payment for my sighs and passions, it was mocked and discarded. And because this deceit has been made manifest, do not come before me anywhere I am, for ye may be certain that the burning love I had for you has become rabid and cruel rage, which ye deserve. Take your fallen faith and knowing deceits and deceive another poor woman like me, for I have overcome your lying words and will receive no excuses nor petitions from you. I shall not see you; instead, I shall weep many tears over my misfortune and with those tears end my life and finish my sad lament."

When her letter was finished, she sealed it with Amadis's own well-known seal, and on the envelope she wrote:

"I am the damsel whose heart has been wounded at sword-point, and ye are the one who attacked me."

She spoke in utter secrecy with a page named Durin, brother of the Damsel of Denmark, and ordered him not to rest until he had arrived at the kingdom of Sobradisa, where he would find Amadis, then give him the letter, watch his face as he read it and stay with him that day, but take no letter from him in response, even if he wished to give him one.
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* Translator's note: In Chapter 40, Amadis left London to help Briolanja regain her kingdom, but he had not gone far before he realized that he had left behind Briolanja's father's sword, which she had given him and which he had later broken in battle. His servant, the dwarf Ardian, went back to get it, and as he left, he told Oriana that the broken sword meant a lot to Amadis because he had received it from the woman he deeply loved. Ardian did not know that Amadis loved Oriana, and he had mistaken Amadis's kindness to Briolanja as love rather than chivalry. Although Oriana's friends Mabilia and the Damsel of Denmark tried to convince her that Ardian might be wrong, she believed him and grew irate.