Chapter 12

CHAPTER XII.
MEDORO. FRANCE was at this time the theatre of dreadful events. The Saracens
and the Christians, in numerous encounters, slew one another. On one
occasion Rinaldo led an attack on the infidel columns, broke and
scattered them, till he found himself opposite to a knight whose armor
(whether by accident or choice, it matters not) bore the blazon of
Orlando. It was Dardinel, the young and brave prince of Zumara, and
Rinaldo remarked him by the slaughter he spread all around. "Ah," said
he to himself, "let us pluck up this dangerous plant before it has
grown to its full height."
As Rinaldo advanced, the crowd opened before him, the Christians
to let his sword have free course, the Pagans to escape its sweep.
Dardinel and he stood face to face. Rinaldo exclaimed, fiercely,
"Young man, whoever gave you that noble buckler to bear made you a
dangerous gift; I should like to see how you are able to defend
those quarterings, red and white. If you cannot defend them against
me, how pray will you do so when Orlando challenges them?" Dardinel
replied: "Thou shalt learn that I can defend the arms I bear, and shed
new glory upon them. No one shall rend them from me but with life."
Saying these words, Dardinel rushed upon Rinaldo with sword uplifted.
The chill of mortal terror filled the souls of the Saracens when
they beheld Rinaldo advance to attack the prince, like a lion
against a young bull. The first blow came from the hand of Dardinel,
and the weapon rebounded from Mambrino's helmet without effect.
Rinaldo smiled, and said, "I will now show you my strokes are more
effectual." At these words, he thrust the unfortunate Dardinel in
the middle of his breast. The blow was so violent, that the cruel
weapon pierced the body, and came out a palm-breadth behind his
back. Through this wound the life of Dardinel issued with his blood,
and his body fell helpless to the ground.
As a flower which the passing plough has uprooted languishes, and
droops its head, so Dardinel, his visage covered with the paleness
of death, expires, and the hopes of an illustrious race perish with
him.
Like waters kept back by a dike, which, when the dike is broken,
spread abroad through all the country, so the Moors, no longer kept in
column by the example of Dardinel, fled in all directions. Rinaldo
despised too much such easy victories to pursue them; be wished for no
combats but with brave men. At the same time, the other paladins
made terrible slaughter of the Moors. Charles himself, Oliver,
Guido, and Ogier the Dane, carried death into their ranks on all
sides.
The infidels seemed doomed to perish to a man on that dreadful
day; but the wise king, Marsilius, at last put some slight degree of
method into the