To which Sancho said:
“My gray’s the one for a smooth and even gait, though he doesn’t go through the air; but on land I’d put him up against all the trotters in the world.”
Everyone laughed, and the Dolorous One continued:
“And this horse, if in fact Malambruno wants to end our misfortune, will be in our presence before the night is half an hour old, because he indicated to me that the sign he would give to let me know I had found the knight I was looking for would be to send me the horse, conveniently and speedily, wherever the knight might be.”
“And how many can fit on this horse?” asked Sancho.
The Dolorous One responded:
“Two people: one in the saddle and the other on the hindquarters, and for the most part these two people are knight and squire, when there is no abducted maiden.”
“I’d like to know, Señora Dolorous,” said Sancho, “what the horse’s name is.”
“His name,” responded the Dolorous One, “is not that of Bellerophon’s horse, named Pegasus, or that of Alexander the Great, called Bucephalus, or that of the furious Orlando, dubbed Brillador, much less Bayarte, who belonged to Reinaldos de Montalbán, or Frontino, who was Ruggiero’s steed, or Bootes or Pirithous, which, they say, were the names of the horses of the Sun, and his name is not Orelia, like the horse on which the unfortunate Rodrigo, last king of the Visigoths, entered the battle in which he lost his life and his kingdom.”
“I’ll wager,” said Sancho, “that since they didn’t give him any of those famous names of well-known horses, they didn’t give him the name of my master’s, Rocinante, which would suit him better than all those others you’ve mentioned.”
“That is true,” responded the bearded countess, “but the name he has fits him, because he is called Clavileño the Fleet,3 a good name for him because it shows that he’s made of wood, and has a peg on his forehead, and moves very quickly; and so, as far as his name is concerned, he can certainly compete with the famous Rocinante.”
“I don’t dislike the name,” replied Sancho, “but what kind of halter or bridle do you use to control him?”
“I’ve already told you,” responded Countess Trifaldi, “that it’s done with the peg, and by turning it one way or the other, the rider can make him go wherever he wants, either through the air, or else skimming and almost sweeping along the ground, or following the middle course, which is what one hopes for and must have in all well-regulated actions.”
“I’d like to see him,” responded Sancho, “but thinking that I’ll climb up on him, either in the saddle or on his hindquarters, is asking the elm tree for pears. I can barely stay on my donkey, and that’s on a packsaddle softer than silk, and now they want me to sit on hindquarters made of wood, without even a pillow or cushion! By God, I don’t plan to bruise myself for the sake of removing anybody’s beard: let each person find a way to be shaved, for I don’t intend to go with my master on such a long journey. Besides, I don’t have anything to do with shaving these beards the way I have something to do with disenchanting Señora Dulcinea.”
“Yes, you do, my friend,” responded Countess Trifaldi, “so much so that without your presence I understand we won’t do anything.”
“That’s not the king’s justice!” said Sancho. “What do squires have to do with the adventures of their masters? Don’t they get the fame when they’re successful while we get all the work? Good God! If the histories only said: ‘Such-and-such a knight concluded such-and-such an adventure, but with the help of so-and-so his squire, and without him it would have been impossible….’ But all they write is: ‘Don Paralipomenón of the Three Stars concluded the adventure of the six monsters,’ and they never mention his squire, who was present for everything, just as if he weren’t in the world at all! And so, my lords and ladies, I say again that my master can go alone, and good luck to him; I’ll stay here, in the company of my lady the duchess, and it might be that when he gets back he’ll find the cause of Señora Dulcinea much improved, because in my idle and empty moments I plan to give myself a whole series of lashes, and with a good deal of energy.”
“Even so, you’ll have to accompany him if it’s necessary, my good Sancho, because good people have asked you to; the faces of these ladies should not be left so heavily covered simply because of your foolish fear, for that would certainly be a sad affair.”
“That’s not the king’s justice again!” replied Sancho. “If this act of charity was for some shy maidens, or for girls learning their catechism, a man might risk any undertaking, but to suffer this just to take the beards off duennas, not me, not ever! I’d rather see all of them with beards, from the oldest to the youngest, from the most pretentious to the most affected.”
“You have bad feelings toward duennas, Sancho my friend,” said the duchess, “and you certainly follow the opinion of the Toledan pharmacist. But, by my faith, you are wrong: there are duennas in my own house who could serve as models for all duennas; here is my Doña Rodríguez, who will not allow me to say another thing.”
“Say what you wish, Your Excellency,” said Doña Rodríguez, “for God knows the truth of everything, and whether or not we duennas are good or bad, bearded or hairless, our mothers bore us just like all other women, and since God put us into the world, He knows the reason, and I rely on His mercy and not on anybody’s beard.”
“Well now, Señora Rodríguez,” said Don Quixote, “and Señora Trifaldi and company, I trust that heaven will look with kindly eyes upon your afflictions; Sancho will do what I tell him to do, whether Clavileño comes or whether I find myself in combat with Malambruno, for I know there is no razor that could shave your graces more easily than my sword could shave Malambruno’s head from his shoulders; God endures the wicked, but not forever.”
“Oh!” said the Dolorous One. “May all the stars of the celestial regions look with benevolent eyes upon your greatness, O valiant knight, and infuse your spirit with good fortune and courage to be the shield and protection of the abused and despised duennaesque race, hated by pharmacists, slandered by squires, and deceived by pages; too bad for the wretched girl who in the flower of her youth did not choose to be a nun instead of a duenna! How unfortunate we duennas are! Even if we came directly, through the male line, from Hector the Trojan, our mistresses would still address us as inferiors, as if they thought that would make them queens! O giant Malambruno, even though you are an enchanter, you keep your promises! Send us, then, the peerless Clavileño, so that our misfortune may end, for if the hot weather comes and we still have our beards, then alas, how unfortunate for us!”
Countess Trifaldi said this with so much feeling that she brought tears to the eyes of all those present, and even filled Sancho’s to the brim, and he determined in his heart to accompany his master to the ends of the earth if that was required to remove the wool from those venerable faces.
CHAPTER XLI
Regarding the arrival of Clavileño, and the conclusion of this lengthy adventure
By now night had arrived, and with it the moment set for the arrival of the famous horse Clavileño, whose tardiness had begun to trouble Don Quixote, for he thought that since Malambruno had delayed in sending him, either he was not the knight for whom the adventure was intended or Malambruno did not dare to meet him in single combat. But here you will see how four savages suddenly entered the garden, all of them dressed in green ivy and carrying on their shoulders a large wooden horse. They placed his feet on the ground, and one of the savages said:
“Let whoever is brave enough climb onto this machine.”
“Well,” said Sancho, “I won’t climb on because I’m not brave enough and I’m not a knight.”
And the savage continued, saying:
“And let his squire, if he has one, sit on the hindquarters and trust in the valiant Malambruno, because unless it is by Malambruno’s sword, he will not be harmed by any other sword, or by any other kind of wickedness; all they have to do is turn this peg on h
is neck, and the horse will carry them through the air to the place where Malambruno is waiting for them, but to prevent the great height and loftiness of the flight from causing them vertigo, they must keep their eyes covered until the horse neighs, which will be a sign that their journey has come to an end.”
Having said this, and leaving Clavileño, with a gallant air they re-turned the way they had come. As soon as she saw the horse, the Dolorous One, almost in tears, said to Don Quixote:
“Valiant knight, the promises of Malambruno have come true: the horse is here, our beards are growing, and all of us, with every hair of our beards, implore you to shave and clip us, for all you have to do is climb onto the horse with your squire and give a joyful beginning to your uncommon journey.”
“That I shall do, Señora Countess Trifaldi, very willingly and even more joyfully, not troubling to find a cushion or put on spurs in order not to delay, so great is the desire I have to see you, Señora, and all these duennas, smooth-faced and clean.”
“That I shall not do,” said Sancho, “by no means, not willingly or any other way; and if this shaving can’t be done unless I climb onto those hindquarters, then my master can find another squire to accompany him, and these ladies another way to smooth their faces; I’m not a wizard who likes flying through the air. And what will my insulanos say when they find out that their governor goes traveling on the wind? And one other thing: since it’s more than three thousand leagues from here to Candaya, if the horse gets tired or the giant gets angry, it’ll take us more than half a dozen years to get back, and by then there won’t be any ínsulas or ínsulos left in the world that recognize me; and since it’s a common saying that danger lies in delay, and when they give you a heifer you’d better hurry over with the rope, may the beards of these ladies forgive me, but St. Peter’s fine in Rome; I mean that I’m fine in this house, where I have received so many favors and where I expect a great benefit from its master, which is being a governor.”
To which the duke said:
“Sancho my friend, the ínsula I have promised you is neither movable nor transitory: it has roots growing so deep in the depths of the earth that three pulls will not tear it out or move it from where it is now; and you must know that I know that no position of any distinction is won without some sort of bribe, sometimes more, sometimes less, and the one I want for this governorship is for you to go with your master, Don Quixote, and bring this memorable adventure to an end and a conclusion; regardless of whether you return on Clavileño in the brief time his speed promises, or a contrary fortune returns and brings you back on foot, a pilgrim going from hostelry to hostelry and inn to inn, whenever you return you will find your ínsula where you left it, and your insulanos with the same desire they have always had to welcome you as their governor, and my intention will be the same; have no doubt about the truth of this, Señor Sancho, for that would be a clear affront to the desire I have to serve you.”
“No more, Señor,” said Sancho. “I’m a poor squire and I can’t carry the burden of so many courtesies; let my master climb on, and have them cover these eyes of mine, and commend me to God, and tell me if, when we travel through those heights, I’ll be able to commend myself to Our Lord or invoke whatever angels favor me.”
To which Trifaldi responded:
“Sancho, you certainly can commend yourself to God or anyone you wish, for Malambruno, though an enchanter, is a Christian, and he does his enchantments with a good deal of wisdom and care, and doesn’t interfere with anybody.”
“Well then,” said Sancho, “may God help me, and the Holy Trinity of Gaeta!”1
“Not since the memorable adventure of the waterwheels,” said Don Quixote, “have I seen Sancho as fearful as he is now, and if I were as superstitious as others, his pusillanimity would cause my courage to weaken somewhat. But come now, Sancho; with the permission of the duke and duchess, I want to say a few words to you alone.”
And leading Sancho to some trees in the garden, and grasping both his hands, he said:
“You see now, friend Sancho, the long journey that awaits us; only God knows when we shall return or what facility and opportunity this business will afford us; therefore, I should like you to withdraw now to your room, as if you were going to find something you needed for the journey, and as quickly as you can give yourself a good measure, perhaps even five hundred, of the three thousand and three hundred lashes you are obliged to receive, and once given you will have them, for well begun is half-done.”
“My God!” said Sancho. “Your grace must be out of your mind! Like people say: ‘You see I’m in a hurry and you demand virginity!’ Now that I have to sit on a bare board, your grace wants me to flog my bottom? Really and truly, your grace is wrong. Let’s go now and shave those duennas, and when we get back I promise your grace, like the man I am, to fulfill my obligation so fast it will make your grace happy, and that’s all I have to say.”
“Then with that promise, my good Sancho, I am comforted, and I believe you will keep it, because in fact, although a simpleton, you are a veridical man.”
“Vertical or horizontal,” said Sancho, “I’ll keep my word.”
And having said this, they returned to mount Clavileño, and as he was mounting, Don Quixote said:
“Put on your blindfold, Sancho, and climb up; the person who sends for us from lands so distant will not deceive us, for there would be little glory in deceiving those who trust him, and even if everything turns out contrary to what I imagine, the glory of having undertaken this deed cannot be obscured by any sort of malevolence.”
“Let’s go, Señor,” said Sancho, “for the beards and tears of these ladies have pierced my heart, and nothing I eat will taste good to me until I see them smooth again. Your grace should mount and put on your blindfold first, because if I have to sit on the hindquarters, the first one to mount has to be the man in the saddle.”
“That is true,” replied Don Quixote.
And taking a handkerchief from his pocket, he asked the Dolorous One to cover his eyes very carefully, and when she had covered them, he uncovered them again and said:
“If I remember correctly, I have read in Virgil about the Palladium of Troy, a wooden horse the Greeks presented to the goddess Pallas, which was pregnant with armed knights who subsequently caused the total ruin of Troy; and so it would be worthwhile first to see what Clavileño is carrying in his stomach.”
“There’s no reason to,” said the Dolorous One, “for I trust him and know that Malambruno is neither wicked nor a traitor; Señor Don Quixote, your grace can mount without fear, and if anything does happen to you, the fault will be mine.”
It seemed to Don Quixote that any reply he might give with regard to his safety would be to the detriment of his valor, and so with no further argument he mounted Clavileño and touched the peg, which turned easily; since he had no stirrups, and his legs hung straight down, he looked exactly like a painted or woven figure in a Flemish tapestry of a Roman triumph. Unwillingly, and very slowly, Sancho finally mounted, and settling himself the best he could on the hindquarters, he found them rather hard and not at all soft, and he asked the duke if it was possible to give him a pillow or cushion, whether from the drawing room couch of his lady the duchess or from the bed of some page, because the hindquarters of that horse seemed more like marble than wood.
To this the Countess Trifaldi said that Clavileño would not tolerate any manner or kind of embellishment on his back, but what Sancho could do was sit sidesaddle, and then he would not feel the hardness quite as much. Sancho did so, and saying, “God help me,” he allowed his eyes to be covered, and after they had been covered he uncovered them again, and looking at everyone in the garden tenderly, and with tears in his eyes, he said that they should each help him in his hour of need with some Our Fathers and Hail Marys so that God would provide someone to say them on their behalf when they found themselves in similar danger. To which Don Quixote said:
“You thief, are you by any chan
ce on the gallows, or in the final moments of your life, to plead in that fashion? Are you not, you craven and cowardly creature, in the same spot that was occupied by the fair Magalona, and from which she descended, not into the grave but to be the queen of France, if the histories do not lie? And I, who am at your side, shall I not compare myself to the valiant Pierres, who sat in the same place where I now sit? Cover your eyes, cover your eyes, you frightened animal, and do not allow your fear to escape your lips again, at least not in my presence.”
“Blindfold me,” responded Sancho, “and since you don’t want me to commend myself to God or be commended to Him, is it any wonder I’m afraid that there must be some legion of devils around here who’ll carry us off to Peralvillo?”2
Both were blindfolded, and Don Quixote, sensing that everything was as it should be, touched the peg, and as soon as he had placed his fingers on it, all the duennas and everyone else present raised their voices, saying:
“May God be your guide, valiant knight!”
“God go with you, intrepid squire!”
“Now, now you are in the air, moving through it faster than an arrow!”
“Now you are beginning to amaze and astonish everyone looking at you from the ground.”
“Hold on, valiant Sancho, you’re slipping! Be careful you don’t fall, because your fall will be worse than that of the daring boy who wanted to drive the chariot of his father, the Sun!”3
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