by Ron Miller
“Your majesty,” said Marfisa, breaking the silence, “I have a suggestion. If Bradamant can’t belong to another while my brother lives, let Leon, if he really wants her, use his courage and strength to deprive his rival of his life. Let whichever one of them survives attain the hand of Lady Bradamant without fear of competition or dissent. Would you and Duke Haemon agree to this?”
“Yes,” said the emperor, before Bradamant’s father could say anything, “we will.” And that was, of course, that.
When Leon received word of this unexpected impediment, he rushed immediately to his pavilion, where his proxy had taken refuge after the previous day’s victory and where the two men had quickly traded costumes. While Leon had rightly feared fighting Bradamant, he was terrified of the prospect of confronting Rashid, whose prowess at arms he knew all too well. Therefore he hoped that he would be able to wring one more favor from the obligation he held over his anonymous knight of the unicorn, that once again he might be persuaded to save the prince from disgrace and harm.
But when he entered the tent, he found it empty. Thinking that the knight had merely wandered off, perhaps riding a mile or two into the forest for pleasure and relaxation—a risky proposition and one for which he’d have to be reprimanded, however sympathetic the prince may be—he calmly awaited his return, which he expected momentarily. But the unicorn knight did not return in a few hours, nor later that day, nor the next day. After two days had passed with neither sight nor news of the man, Leon began to seriously worry. For all he knew, the indomitable Rashid was at that very moment on his way to Marseilles to claim what he believed to be rightly his and would consider the presence of the intellectual Greek prince to be an insignificant impediment. If he wished to retain his hold on Bradamant, to say nothing of his life, Leon needed his nameless knight to once again fight in his place. He was certain if anyone were capable of eradicating the Moor it was the warrior he had personally witnessed decimating an entire army.
By the third day, Leon’s panic had reached such a feverish proportion that he saddled his horse and went himself to search for his proxy.
He had, of course, no idea which direction his quarry may have gone—and there were no witnesses, given the large number of people coming and going from the city—so he simply tried to go all directions at once. Traveling in an approximate spiral he stopped at every hamlet, farmhouse, manor, inn and tavern, he examined every hayloft, abandoned hut, grotto, stable and henhouse; every place, in fact, his friend might have been seen, have eaten or slept. He stopped every stranger and enquired of every fieldhand and shepherd, all to no avail. Every crossroads was an agony of indecision: would the knight of the unicorn have gone to the left or right or straight ahead? Days passed, then a week. At the tenth day he knew he’d have to return to Marseilles to await the expected appearance of his nemesis. Yet, he told himself to restore a little cheer, who’s to say that my knight hasn’t himself returned in the meantime, spending the last week wondering where I might’ve gotten off to? He smiled at the incongruous thought of the knight lounging in the cool shade of the prince’s tent, eating delicious, well-prepared food and sipping fine wines while his benefactor was sleeping in his saddle and eating and drinking whatever he happened to find.
Leon had only proceeded a mile or two in the direction of Marseilles when he met a beautiful woman riding toward him on a white pony. She was luminous in the bright sunshine and her hair poured like molten gold over her shoulders and down her back, where it spilled in heavy waves over the flanks of her mount. She was dressed only in a gossamer white gown that seemed to float around her pale body like smoke.
As soon as she spied Leon, she spurred her pony and hurried to intercept him.
Impatient as he was of any delay, Leon’s princely upbringing forced him to pull up and greet the woman with a civil enquiry as to her health. Coward he may be but he was courteous.
“I’m well, thank you,” the woman replied. Leon thought that had he not been so infatuated with Lady Bradamant he could easily be hypnotized by the almost unearthly beauty of this stranger. He wondered if he might in fact afford an hour or two from his quest, just to see how strong his commitment to the fair knight actually was. “But that’s more than I fear I can say for another,” the woman continued.
“Pardon?”
“There’s a knight fallen nearby, the very best knight of our age, and if he doesn’t soon receive aid he’ll die. If your soul’s as noble as your face, kind sir, if your chivalry and goodness truly befit your appearance and bearing, then you can’t refuse this man comfort.”
“Who is this paragon?” he asked.
“The finest knight who’s ever buckled a sword to his side,” she replied, “or carried a shield on his arm, or who ever will. The fairest and noblest knight of all those alive or who have ever lived. Sir, I tell you that he’s now dying for no other reason than that he did another a kindness. For God’s sake, sir, come and save him!”
Leon for all his faults was certainly neither stupid nor slow and it had long since occurred to him that this woman was undoubtedly offering to lead him to the very man he sought. Thanking whatever kindly gods had engineered this fortuitous meeting, he agreed to follow the woman, who immediately turned and rode back down the road. He felt his flaccid spirits reviving like a rehydrated toad. He would now have nothing to fear from Rashid with his knight to once again take his place. He left his horse to follow the woman on the pony as he daydreamed about his final reconciliation with the desirable Bradamant.
He did not dream for long for less than a mile down the road the woman turned off onto a nearly invisible trail. This wound through a field of tall, dry grass in the midst of which was an enormous, ancient tree, gnarled and twisted like an angry fist. Beneath the tree was the knight he had been seeking.
“He has neither eaten nor had a drink for more than a week,” the woman said, dismounting as the prince did.
He was appalled at the appearance of his hero, who lay stretched at full length in his armor, his helmet on his head—which rested on his unicorn shield—and his sword at his side. At the sight of the prince and the woman, he tried to rise but fell back with a groan.
* * * * *
After defeating Bradamant, Rashid had taken Frontino and in the excitement following the duel, left the city with no one the wiser. He let the horse choose the road and for days they wandered, sometimes on a straight highway, sometimes along a crooked country path, sometimes through forests and sometimes through fields. Day and night, without pause, the faithful animal carried its weeping master, who was too blinded by his tears to see or care where he was going.
Rashid could imagine nothing better able to alleviate his misery than death and he begged that it might be forthcoming. “Who else have I to blame?” he asked. “Who other than myself has taken away from me everything that was good? If I’m not willing to bear the brunt of my vengeance, who else is there? There’s no one else who’s injured me, no one else who’s brought me such unbearable suffering. I can only take revenge on myself, since I’m responsible for this evil.”
Then, a few miles later: “If I were the only one injured I might be able to pardon myself, though it would be difficult. No. Even then, I’d not want to. But how much less forgiveness do I deserve for hurting Bradamant as much as I have? Even if I could forgive myself, I’d still have to avenge the wrong done to her. And how can I avenge her other than by dying? And I want to die, indeed I do. Since that’s the only thing that’ll give me relief, it’s no problem. My only regret is that I didn’t die before doing her so much harm. Oh, why couldn’t I have perished in Theodora’s dungeon? At least I would’ve earned Bradamant’s pity. But now, when she learns that I showed more affection for Prince Leon than her—as she’s certain to discover sooner or later—and of my own will deprived her of me so that he could have her. . . well, she’ll have good reason to hate me whether I’m dead or alive.”
He went on more or less in this vein for days as Frontino
wandered here and there. The horse would stop to eat, drink and rest, but his miserable rider never once dismounted but only moaned and wept and tore at his hair and beat sonorously at his armored breast. He was often chased from a hamlet by people complaining of the noise.
Finally, as he was passing aimlessly through a sunny field, Rashid fell from his saddle and collapsed on the ground beneath the huge, twisted black tree. He was awakened by Frontino’s gentle nuzzling and discovered that he still held the animal’s reins. He raised his hand and released them.
“Oh, Frontino,” he said, “I wish it were in my power to give you even half the reward you deserve. If I could, you’d need not ever envy the place Pegasus has among the stars. Neither Arion—born of Neptune and a Fury—nor Castor’s Cyllaros merited greater praise than you—and even if they did, they couldn’t boast of the honor and reward of being loved by that woman who is more beautiful, noble and valiant than any other, who considered you so dear that she fed you with her own hand. You were dear to my lady. . . no—I haven’t any right to say that she’s my lady. She’s no longer mine. I’ve given her to another.”
Frontino whickered sympathetically, but his master didn’t respond so he wandered a little, nibbling here and there at the dry grass, following the shade of the great tree as it swung from west to east. Occasionally he returned to the man, but though he prodded him gently with his soft muzzle, there was no response. Days went by and the loyal horse refused to stray far from Rashid, never failing to return every hour or so to see if the knight would respond and stand again. Finally, after a week had passed, there were voices and the sound of other horses.
“I know this man,” said Leon as he dismounted.
“Yes, I know you do,” replied the woman.
He approached the fallen knight and knelt beside him. The man’s face and hair were wet with tears. His hands were covered with the marks of his teeth where he had bitten them savagely; his lips had been bitten through and were covered with thick, black scabs. The prince gently put his arms around the knight’s neck and half lifted him.
“Sir Knight?” he asked and was overjoyed to see the eyes flutter and the tip of a tongue lick tentatively at the swollen lips.
“What is it that brought you here? Would it help to unburden yourself to me? There’re few ills in this world that’re so terrible that a man can’t extricate himself from them if he just makes the cause known—and as long as you’re alive you must never give up hope of discovering that cause.”
By way of answer he only received a protracted groan.
“I’m afraid he’s dying,” Leon said to the woman, who was busy unpacking a bundle from her saddlebags. “He’s dying of some great, unbearable grief. What could’ve been so terrible that it would drive a man like this to such despair?”
“I’ll have some food and drink ready,” she answered, “if you can awaken him.”
“Sir Knight,” he continued, “it hurts that you chose to flee from me. I thought we were friends. And I am your true friend. Not just because I’m bound to you by a debt of honor—I was your friend even when I had good cause to consider you a mortal enemy. You ought to know I’m ready to help you with everything I own—even my life.”
“No,” croaked the knight through his ruined lips.
“My lady!” Leon cried. “He’s awake! He’s spoken!”
“Good,” she said, coming to his side. “Here, we’ll see if he won’t try to eat something.”
She dipped a little bread in a cup of wine and held it to the knight’s lips. The wine dissolved the blood and the mixture ran in a thick black stream down his unshaven cheeks and chin.
“Is he eating it?” the prince asked.
“Yes, a little.”
After a few minutes, Rashid had eaten several pieces of the wine-soaked bread and his opened eyes had regained some of their luster and focus. Leon started to question the knight again, but the woman placed a hand gently against his chest and held him back. Oddly, he felt as though the strength of an ox lay behind that easy gesture.
“Wait a bit,” she said, “until after we’ve all eaten.”
She spread a robe across the dusty grass beside the prostrate man, who was now propped into a half-sitting position against the saddle Leon had removed from the knight’s horse. Onto this she placed a surprising variety of edibles, all taken from a wicker hamper that Leon would have been prepared to swear could not have held half so much. They dined on breads, cheeses, sausages, cold chicken and cold boiled meats, pickled vegetables, fruits and nuts. There were even half a dozen bottles of very good wine. Leon had not been aware that he was so hungry, but at the first taste of the food his mouth flooded with hot, sweet saliva and he ate so lustily he forgot for the time being the presence of the man he had been hunting for a fortnight. Rashid, too, ate. At first sparingly and with disinterest, but—perhaps inspired by the prince’s gluttonous example—eventually with some substance. The woman ate nothing.
Finally, Leon leaned back and belched. “Well, my friend,” he said, “if you won’t voluntarily tell me what your problem is, you’ll force me to resort to force, flattery, bribery or guile, if that is what it’ll take to help you escape from it. If I fail, then you may die, but let’s don’t think of that until you’ve at least given me a fair chance to see what I can do.”
Rashid could not listen any longer to the man’s pleas. They were meant with honest kindness and Rashid’s heart was made of neither iron nor flint. He realised how spiteful and mean it would be to not tell the man something at least.
He opened his mouth three or four times but nothing would come out. Neither Leon nor the woman said anything, for fear of upsetting the balance of the moment.
“My lord,” he said finally, “when you know who I am you may be more willing than I am to see me die. I’m the man whom who hate more than any other on earth.”
“No, you’re not,” the prince protested. “I may’ve once, briefly, when I first saw you destroying my father’s and my armies, but I’ve told you that hatred no longer exists.”
“No, you don’t understand. My name is Rashid.”
“Rashid!”
“And I have hated you, too. I went to Bulgaria with the sole purpose of killing you and your father, rather than see Bradamant given to you by Haemon. But because man only proposes while God disposes, it came about that your great chivalry made me change my mind. You saved my life at the risk of your own and that made me not merely put aside my hatred, but it won you my undying loyalty.”
“Why didn’t you tell me who you were?”
“How could I? Especially after you begged me to help you win my Lady Bradamant, which was just as if you had asked me to tear my heart from my body. All right then, you now know that I placed your good ahead of my own. I’ve given you what I promised. Bradamant has been made yours. Take her in peace. Your happiness is more important than mine, since, deprived of her I am also deprived of life. I can no more remain alive without her than I could without a soul. Besides, you couldn’t legally marry her while I remain alive, for we have long been betrothed and she cannot have two fiancés at the same time.”
Leon was so astonished by this unexpected speech that he could not think of a thing to say. He remained where he was, as motionless as a statue—rather like one placed in a church in fulfillment of a vow. He had never before heard of such great chivalry and believed that he would never live long enough to again hear its equal. The knowledge that the unicorn knight was in fact Rashid in no way lessened the affection he felt for the man—indeed, it increased tenfold. It would never do, he realized, for it to ever be said that a Moorish knight was superior to a Greek in matters of chivalry, even if he outstripped the prince in every other regard.
“Sir Rashid,” he said at last, “on the day when you overthrew my army, if I had then learned who you were, I would’ve hated you—but I would’ve been no less captivated by your stupendous valor, courage and virtue, just as I was when I didn’t know your identity
. It still would’ve driven the hatred from my heart anyway, replacing it with the love I now have for you.
“I won’t deny that I once hated the very name Rashid, but you mustn’t think the hate I felt then went any further. Even if I’d learned who it was I was helping escape from Theodora’s prison, I would’ve done the very same thing that I’m now prepared to do on your behalf.”
“What can you do for me now?” asked Rashid, “except kill me?”
“If I should’ve done this willingly then,” Leon continued, “when I was under no obligation to you, how much more willingly should I do this now that I know the truth. If I didn’t, I’d be the most ungrateful of men since you denied and deprived yourself of everything you wanted in this world and gave it to me. All right then, I give it back to you.”
“Pardon?”
“And with greater pleasure than with which I received it. Bradamant is more yours than mine. I love her for her virtues, but I have to admit that I wouldn’t kill myself—as you would—if she became another’s. Perhaps your death would free us to marry, but I’ll never consent to that. I’d rather lose her and everything I possess in the world than have it be said that I caused such a knight as yourself to suffer so great a heartache.”
Leon clasped Rashid’s hands and bent over the dumbstruck knight, as tears poured down his handsome face. “It tears my own heart into pieces to know that you, who could’ve disposed of me so easily, prefered to die of sorrow than to have asked me for help.”
Rashid opened his mouth once or twice to argue the point, but thought better of it. There was one matter remaining that he had to settle, however.
“Look here,” he said, “I won’t die, if that’ll make you happy. But how am I ever to discharge my debt to you? It’s two times now that you’ve saved my life.”
“Well, we’ll see about that.”
“Do you think you might be able to ride?” asked the woman.
“I think so, if someone will help me up.”