With groans stifled by his tears, and lamentations in accents
suppressed, not from any fear for himself, for he cared not for life,
but lest any one should be roused to interrupt their pious duty while
yet incomplete, he proposed to his companion that they should together
bear Dardinel on their shoulders, sharing the burden of the beloved
remains.
Marching with rapid strides under their precious load, they perceived
that the stars began to grow pale, and that the shades of night would
soon be dispersed by the dawn. Just then Zerbino, whose extreme valor
had urged him far from the camp in pursuit of the fugitives, returning,
entered the wood in which they were. Some knights in his train
perceived at a distance the two brothers-in-arms. Cloridan saw the
troop, and, observing that they dispersed themselves over the plain as
if in search of booty, told Medoro to lay down the body, and let each
save himself by flight. He dropped his part, thinking that Medoro would
do the same; but the good youth loved his prince too well to abandon
him, and continued to carry his load singly as well as he might, while
Cloridan made his escape. Near by there was a part of the wood tufted
as if nothing but wild animals had ever penetrated it. The unfortunate
youth, loaded with the weight of his dead master, plunged into its
recesses.
Cloridan, when he perceived that he had evaded his foes, discovered
that Medoro was not with him. "Ah!" exclaimed he, "how could I, dear
Medoro, so forget myself as to consult my own safety without heeding
yours?" So saying, he retraced the tangled passes of the wood toward
the place from whence he had fled. As he approached he heard the noise
of horses, and the menacing voices of armed men. Soon he perceived
Medoro, on foot, with the cavaliers surrounding him. Zerbino, their
commander, bade them seize him. The unhappy Medoro turned now this way,
now that, trying to conceal himself behind an oak or a rock, still
bearing the body, which he would by no means leave. Cloridan not
knowing how to help him, but resolved to perish with him, if he must
perish, takes an arrow, fits it to his bow, discharges it, and pierces
the breast of a Christian knight, who falls helpless from his horse.
The others look this way and that, to discover whence the fatal bolt
was sped. One, while demanding of his comrades in what direction the
arrow came, received a second in his throat, which stopped his words,
and soon closed his eyes to the scene.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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