The Legend of Renaud of Montauban 10: Italian

The Italian family consists of the following versions:

I Cantari di Rinaldo da Montealbano. In ottava rima, from the late 1300’s. Crticial edition by Elio Melli in 1973 under the title I Cantari di Rinaldo da Monte Albano.

El Inamoramento de Rinaldo da Monte Albano. The aforesaid Cantari, with the story of Fierabras interpolated, a prologue dealing with the feud of Aymon and Ginamo of Baiona added, and many episodes lengthened. Also printed under the title of Rinaldo Innamorato, and in either case usually with a very long subtitle.

Prose Rinaldo. Probably by Andrea da Barberino, though this cannot be proved.

Rinaldo, by Torquato Tasso. In ottava rima. Translated into English couplets by John Hoole, whom Scott notoriously described as “a noble transmuter of gold into lead.” More recently translated into ottava rima by Max Wickert.

I CANTARI DI RINALDO DA MONTE ALBANO

The oldest and best version is in a MS known as palatino 364, of the Bib. Naz. di Firenze. There are three other versions, each of which expand the first section (up to the chessboard-murder) in their own unique ways. R: a manuscript fragment which ends just before the ambush of Buovo, Cod. Riccardiano 683. a: a printed edition without title or date, probably from 1479, British Museum, Printed Books G 11352. b: the first (surviving) printing of El Inamoramento de Rinaldo da Monte Albano, from which all other printings are descended. After the chessboard-murder these three versions all follow Pal closely, with the exception of b’s interpolation of Fierabras before the beginning of the war against Monte Albano. Since b is the ancestor of all other versions, they are known as the beta family. is most likely related to the prose version in the Laurenzian library.

 PALATINO 364

Charlemagne holds court at Paris, when Ginamo of Baiona tells Amone that he [Ginamo] has cuckolded him [Amone], and that all four of his [Amone’s] sons are actually Ginamo’s. Amone, furious, heads for Dordona, but Orlando, Astolfo, Ulivieri, and Namo send messengers ahead of him to warn the Duchess, who flees with her sons Alardo, Rinaldo, Guicciardo and Ricciardetto to Monte Ermino [Montherme]. Rinaldo swears to clear his mother’s name.

Amone is son of Bernardo of Chiaramonte, and his brothers are Girado of Ronsiglione, Milon d’Angrante [Orlando’s father], King Otto of England, [Astolfo’s father], Duodo of Antonia [Doon de Nanteuil?] and Buovo of Agrismonte. Buovo and his wife Smeragda were long childless, and so went on pilgrimage to Saint James. Smeragda became pregnant, and gave birth to twin boys. However, they were still in Spain at the time, and their train was attacked by King Avilante. Only Buovo and his wife escaped, and their children were left behind in the rout. King Avilante finds the one, adopts him and names him Viviano. The other is found by the Queen of Belfiore, who happens to be passing by some days later. She finds him “mal giacere” [lying ill: that is, alone], names him Malagigi, and teaches him magic. By his magic, he grows up to win Baiardo, whom he finds in a grotto with a hauberk, a helmet, and the sword Frusberta. He slays the deadly serpent that guards them, and claims them. Since, by his magic, he knows who his family are and the peril they are in, he takes leave of his foster-mother and pretends to be a merchant. He sells his cousins Baiardo, saying that no bastard can sit on this wonderful horse. Rinaldo, reassured by his mother, buys the beast, after which Malagigi reveals his identity and departs. The brethren ride to Paris with their train. Ginamo meets them on the way and claims to be their father, but they defy him, and battle is joined. The brethren slay Ginamo, who is carried to his castle, where his sons Ramondo and Beltramo mourn him. Although the Sons are reconciled with their father, Charles banishes them from Christendom for three years for killing Ginamo. As they leave, Gano secretly follows to ambush them. Luckily, Orlando is suspicious, and rides with his other cousins after them, finding them just after Gano’s men have leapt out of the bushes. Gano has concealed his insignia, but Rinaldo gives him an ugly cut through his helmet. Gano flees when Orlando arrives, still unknown. The Duchess returns to Dordona with Amone, and Rinaldo takes up residence in Monte Ermino, deciding to lay low instead of actually leaving. Gano returns to court, where he pretends he had a hunting accident. Orlando is suspicious, but can prove nothing.

Continue reading

Book I, Canto IX, Part 3

The Orlando Innamorato in English translation, Book I, Canto IX, Stanzas 41-60

41
The fair Angelica he loved above
All other things, although she loved him not;
But this the mighty peril is of love,
That unrequited love burns still more hot.
But not to make too long a story of
The matter, Sacripante now had got
His troops together, all things as they ought,
When Don Astolfo was before him brought.

42
Because that worthy monarch had decreed,
That ev’ry sentinel and ev’ry guard
Must stop all passers-by, whate’er their creed,
Or age or country, be they churl or lord,
To bring before His Majesty with speed;
The king would try to bring them to accord
To join his army, if he would agree,
But if he didn’t, then he should go free.

43
Astolfo enters, riding on Baiard,
A sight for Sacripante to behold,
Whoever saw him held him in regard,
He seemed to be the flower of the bold.
For coat of arms, he did not bear his pards,
But shield and surcoat both were solid gold,
And so the guard who’d met him in the field
Called him the Knight Who Bore the Golden Shield.

44
“O valiant knight,” quoth Sacripante then,
“What wilt thou take to be my man in fee?”
Astolfo answers him, “All of thy men
Who in the camp here serve thy crown and thee.
Upon no other terms will I come in.
Thus must thou take me, or must  let me free.
No offer short of this can make me stay;
I know how to command, not to obey.

45
“If th’art uncertain I should be so dight,
Or if thou thinkest that my wits I lack,
I’ll show thee such an honor is but right.
Let me left hand be tied behind my back,
And against all thine army I will fight,
From thee down to the man who tends thy hack.
But talk is cheap, and urgent matters press.
Come on right now and put me to the test.”

46
The king talks to his lords and asks them whether,
Since this knight clearly has no more possession
Of sense than if he had webbed feet and feathers,
And since it were an easy task to lessen
His malady, or cure it all together,
If they were willing to teach him a lesson.
His barons answered him, “Just let him be.
If we’re wroth with a fool, then fools are we.”

47
And thus the bold Astolfo is dismissed,
And travels on without a trace of fear.
But the Circassian monarch sorely missed
His golden arms, and Baiard his destrier,
And in his spirit he resolves on this:
To all alone pursue the cavalier.
He thinks it will require little force
To lift Astolfo’s armor and his horse.

48
He dons his helmet but lays by his crown,
To make sure no one recognizes him.
His wonted shield he swaps for one all brown.
This worthy king was strong and large of limb,
And for his comeliness was much renowned.
In war he fought with bravery and vim.
As you yourselves shall see, when I relate
His wondrous feats before Albracca’s gates.

49
He follows Don Astolfo, as I’ve shown,
Who was a ways ahead of him and rode
Devoid of care, and ambled on alone
Till he encountered, coming down the road
A Saracen, the finest ever known
In all the lands by rolling seas enclosed.
I’ll tell of his great exploits in the war
Against Albrac, of which I spoke before.

50
This noble Saracen hight Brandimart,
A count, and Sylvan Rock was his domain.
In all of Pagandom, in ev’ry part,
Was known his noble and illustrious fame.
Of tournaments and joust he knew the art,
But above all, his person was humane
And courteous. He gave each man his due,
And was a courtly lover and a true.

51
A damsel rode with him, of beauty rare,
And when Astolfo sees this lady bright,
Who was so highly born and wondrous fair,
Her beauty fills him with desire to fight.
When Don Astolfo sees them riding there,
At once he gives a challenge to the knight.
He cries out, “Thou must joust with me anon,
Or hand the lady over and begone.”

52
Quoth Brandimarte, “By Mahound I swear
Sooner than her, my life will I forsake.
But, worthy champion, thou must be aware,
Since thou no lady hast for me to take,
If I defeat thee, thou on foot shalt fare;
Thy gallant destrier, I mine own shall make.
This is no villainy I have in mind;
Thou hast no lady and thou wouldst claim mine.”

53
That Pagan baron rode a stout destrier,
Whose stock and spirit were among the best.
Now turn and draw apart the cavaliers,
And now they charge each other, lance in rest.
Hooves thund’ring, armor clanging, they draw near,
And squarely strike each other on the chest.
Don Brandimarte from his seat was sped,
While the two steeds collided head to head.

54
That of the Pagan, lifeless, earthward falls.
Baiard takes not the slightest hurt from it,
Which does not trouble Brandimart at all:
But losing of his lady delicate
Makes him nigh crazy, he is so appalled,
With such great love for her his heart was lit.
He’s lost all of his good; his joys depart;
He draws his sword to thrust it through his heart.

55
Astolf by this action understands
That of despair the knight is in the throes.
Immediately from Baiard he descends.
To comfort him, with words like these he goes:
“Dost thou believe I’m such a churlish man
To rive thee from the dame thou lovest so?
I only joust for victory and fame;
Mine be the honors, and be thine the dame.”

56
The standing knight receives this comfort sweet,
Who just a moment prior sought to die.
And now, o’erwhelmed by joyfulness he weeps,
And cannot speak a sole word in reply.
He kneels and kisses Duke Astolfo’s feet,
And midst his sobs chokes out, “O sire, I
Have lost all pride, for thou hast vanquished me
At once in battle and in courtesy.

57
“My fame and honor all I’d gladly yield
And bear all shame to raise thine honor higher.
Thou hast preserved my life upon this field;
To lay it down for thee is my desire.
I cannot show the gratitude I feel;
I am not strong enough to be thy squire,
And thou in ev’rything art so complete,
Of ev’ry other service thou’st no need.”

58
But while in conversation they were ranged,
King Sacripante through the forest pressed;
And when upon the lovely maid he came,
Resolved at once to leave his former quest
And conquer for his own the fair young dame.
And himself he thinks, “Ah, how I’m blest!
I came here seeking for a horse and arms;
Now a far better thing will fill my arms.”

59
With a loud voice, the pagan monarch cried
“Whichever of you guards this lady bright,
Hand over her at once, and from hence ride,
Or otherwise against me must thou fight.”
To which the noble Brandimart replied,
“Thou art a highwayman, and not a knight.
Thou clearly seest that I have no horse,
And thou wouldst challenge me to run a course.”

60
Before the Duke Astolf his knees he bends,
Imploring, asking if his pleasure is
To lend him Baiard, that he might defend
His honor. Duke Astolfo laughs at this
And says, “My horse on no account I’ll lend,
So I will simply have to give thee his.
Purely for love of thee I’m thus inclined.
Thine be the steed, and be the honor mine.”

Notes to the Ninth Canto, Part 3

The Orlando Innamorato in English translation, Book I, Canto IX, Stanzas 41-60 Notes

43. Pards. Leopards. The term is used in heraldry for a lion passant guardant, such as those on the English royal arms, which Astolfo normally bears, since he is the son of King Otto of England.

51. This damsel, who will not be named until much later, is Fiordelisa, whom Ariosto calls Fiordiligi in the Furioso.

Notes to the Ninth Canto, Part 2

The Orlando Innamorato in English translation, Book I, Canto IX, Stanzas 21-40 Notes

25. Similar unorthodox methods of killing a monster by tricking it into eating something were used by Bellerophon against the Chimera, Daniel against the dragon worshipped by the Babylonians, and others, but I cannot recall any instances exactly parallel to this one.

Book I, Canto IX, Part 1

The Orlando Innamorato in English translation, Book I, Canto IX, Stanzas 1-20

ARGUMENT

Angelica by Don Rinald is spurned,
Though she arrives to save her by her arts.
He slays the beast, and then he sorely yearns
To raze the castle. Duke Astolfo starts
His quest, by Sacripant away is turned,
And meets the noble heathen Brandimart.
Orlando in the magic bower he sees,
But they two fight, and Duke Astolfo flees.

1
You’ve heard already of the shape miswrought
The horrible and wasted monster bore,
Which had for long against Rinaldo fought,
And how Fusberta from his hand it tore.
And we shall leave him here, unhelped, distraught,
For now another matter needs me more.
Now of a lady who with love doth burn
I sing, then to Rinaldo I’ll return.

2
Me gracious lords, most humble I request
Ye to recall Angelica the bright.
How she met Malagise on a quest
And watches for his coming day and night.
Now as she waits, her spirit is oppressed.
As all may guess who’ve waited for delight,
And one’s who’s waited for a lover knows
All other waiting seems a pleasant rose.

3
She stands for hours gazing at the sea,
And then for hours looking o’er the land.
And if a ship the poor girl chanced to see,
Or any speck, as she th’horizon scanned,
She whispers to herself that certainly
The gallant Don Rinaldo was at hand.
And when a beast or cart came down the road,
She thought the lord of Montalban there rode.

4
Behold! When Malagise there appeared,
(But no Rinaldo stood there by his side)
Haggard and pale, with a disheveled beard.
Upon the earth he fixed his tired eyes;
His clothes were ragged and with grime besmirched.
He looked like one who from a dungeon flies.
The damsel sees him, seeming hard bestead,
“Alas!” she cries out, “My Rinaldo’s dead!”

5
“He isn’t dead. At least he isn’t yet,”
Says Malagise to the damosel,
“But he cannot endure. He’s hard beset,
And will be eaten by a monster fell.
Confound the day and hour that did beget
A soul who dared to thus ‘gainst Love rebel!”
And then in full detail he makes report
How he had lured Rinaldo to that court.

6
And how the folk had sentenced him to die,
And how a quick and painful end he faced.
You need not wonder if the lady’s nigh
To death. Her spirit sinks, so much abased
She cannot move, cannot let out a cry,
But stands with vacant eyes and icy face.
But strength returning just an instant later,
She says to Malagise, “Ah! Thou traitor!

7
“Traitor, cruel, ribald brute, forsworn.
How dost thou dare to tell me such a tale?
When thou hast left thy cousin all forlorn,
So close to death, and hopest he will fail?
But if thou dost not help him, be forewarned,
Thy demons and enchantments won’t avail,
But I shall have thee burnt immediately,
And then I’ll throw thine ashes in the sea.

8
“Make no excuses, thou deceitful cad,
Saying thou’st thought to give me vengeful joy.
Didst thou not know, I would be far more sad
Were he unhappy than if I should die?
The height of beauty and of strength he had,
A vile and a luckless woman I.
And furthermore, I told thee, witless lout,
Thy cousin Rinald I can’t live without.”

9
Quoth Malagis, “If thou dost so much care,
There is a way to help him, even now.
But thou must be the one to help him there,
And do just as I say. I’ll tell thee how.
He, although he is crueler than a bear,
Despite himself, to Love he soon will bow.
Make thyself ready, then, without delay.
He may well die if we an instant stay.”

10
As he is speaking thus, a rope he brings,
Tied into loops about a palm around;
A cake of wax which to his fingers clings;
A magic file which makes ne’er a sound.
He tells the damsel how to use these things.
Angelica a demon black has bound
To serve her, and he flies her through the air
To the Cruel Rock and her beloved there.

11
Now to Rinaldo must I turn my tale,
Who finds himself in woeful plight. Appalled,
It seems Death soon will catch him without fail.
Can swordless knight fight on, or even stall?
He runs away, the monster on his tail,
And lo, before him, halfway up the wall,
A cornice, some ten feet above the ground.
Rinaldo, running, takes a mighty bound,

12
Reaches it, with his hand he grabs the spit,
And pulls his body up with knightly force.
Now perched between the heaven and earth he sits,
And down below, the fearful monster roars.
Although most gross and ponderous is it,
It leapt up, with its savage claws it tore
The air alone; it could not reach the knight.
Rinaldo, nonetheless, is filled with fright.

13
And now the day gave way to darkling night.
Rinaldo, still upon his risky perch,
Knows not what chance or miracle has might
To bring him out of his imperiled lurch,
When he beholds, lit by the moon’s pale light,
(For not a single cloud the sky besmirched)
He knows not what, that through the ether came,
But by its shape, it seemed to be a dame.

14
It was Angelica, who hither raced
To bring deliverance to her cavalier.
But when Rinaldo recognized her face,
To throw himself upon the ground he’s near,
Because for her he had so much distaste
That less repulsive is the monster fierce.
Being devoured seems a lesser grief
That seeing her who’s come to bring relief.

15
She stands before him, hov’ring in the air,
And kneels on nothing, saying, “Cavalier,
One grief above all fills my heart with care:
That by my doing thou art prisoned here.
I must confess, such love for thee I bear,
At times I’m like to lose my wit, I fear.
But never could I do thee injury.
Ah! Couldst thou really think so ill of me?

16
“I but intended to give thee delight,
With joy and pleasure, and with sweet repose,
And so I brought thee to the island bright,
But now I find thee in such perilous throes
And so constrained, in so extreme a plight,
That I am almost slain to see thy woes.
But let all fear be put away from tee,
For I have come, and I can set thee free.

17
“Come, leap into my arms! Oh, be not shy!
And I shall carry thee across the skies,
And thou shalt see the earth below flit by.
Swifter than thought, almost, my whirlwind flies.
Didst thou not ever wish that thou couldst fly?
Thy wish is granted! From thy perch arise.
Come, mount me, worthy knight, and thou mayst find
I am no worse than that Baiard of thine.”

18
The brave Rinaldo was aggrieved full sore,
Whenas her loving words fell on his ear.
He answered thusly: “By Our Blesséd Lord,
I would far sooner meet my death right here,
Than flee this place with thee as my support.
Unless thou instantly dost disappear,
I swear I’ll throw myself down from this spit;
Now stay or leave, whate’er thou thinkest fit.”

19
Believe it well, no greater injury
Than for a loving dame to be rejected.
The man she once adored now hateth she.
Her passions are completely redirected.
But by this deathless animosity,
Angelica is not the least affected.
Her love towards Rinaldo hath such might
That all his injuries to her seem light.

20
She answers him, “I shall obey thy will,
For I lack power to do otherwise.
With my one hand myself I’ll gladly kill,
If I thought at my death you would rejoice.
But most unrightly thou with hate art filled.
I swear, as I have hope of Paradise,
I shall do anything thou dost decree,
Save the impossible: to love not thee.

Notes to the Ninth Canto, Part 1

The Orlando Innamorato in English translation, Book I, Canto IX, Stanzas 1-20 Notes

7. It is unclear whether Angelica will do this herself by magic, or will have Malagise burnt at the stake. Anent this, please note that the burning of witches at the stake was not done out of cruelty, but to prevent their corpses from being stolen and used in further magical rites. It was customary  to strangle the criminals before burning their bodies; burning alive was a late development. The witch hunts had not reached their full height in Boiardo’s day, but the fear was growing. It should be noted, however, that only 50,000 people (one-third of them men) were executed for witchcraft in the entire history of post-Roman Europe. The figure of nine million women, frequently bandied around, is a lie.

The Legend of Renaud 9: Saint Reinolt of Cologne

The legend of the martyrdom of Renaud of Montauban, or Rinaldo, is found in two stand-alone versions, besides those at the end of the Quatre Fils Aymon.

For editions of the Quatre Fils, see my other posts. A complete synoptic version of the martyrdom exists as a thesis at the University of Ghent but will likely never be printed. Support copyright reform!

Vita Sancti Reinoldis Monachis et Martyris, a Latin saint’s life, printed by the Bollandists in the Acta Sanctorum, January Volume 1, pages 385-387.

Vita Sancti Reinoldi Rythmice. A Latin saint’s life in verse, printed by Joseph Floss in Annalen des historischen Vereins für den Niederrhein, inbesondere das alte Erzdiöcese Köln, Volume 30, 1876, pages 185-203. Clearly from the Dutch, as evidenced by the names of the brethern, their mother’s being the sister of Charles, Clarice being Yon’s daughter, and Renaud’s slaying of three sultans in the Holy Land.

La Quatre Fils Aymon – Original

According to the Quatre Fils, the penitent Renaud, after seeing his two sons established in their patrimony, wanders for a time in the forest, occasionally staying at a monastery, until he comes to Cologne, where he offers his services to the masons who are building the Church of Saint Peter. Renaud lifts a stone which four other men cannot carry, does more work than ten other men can do, and only accepts enough wages as will buy him bread to eat and straw to sleep on. This goes on for some time, until the other masons, growing jealous, kill him and throw his body into the Rhine. But all the fish of the river hold the body up, and at nightfall torches appear around it and angels begin to sing. The murderers confess and are pardoned, and the archbishop goes to fetch the body, brings it into the church, and sings Mass over it. After the Mass, Renaud’s body is miraculously carried out of the church, and into a cart, which travels of its own accord from Cologne to Tremoigne, where all the sick who seek him are made whole. According to DN and the Dutch, the corpse went straight from Cologne to Tremoigne. According to LC, it stopped in Ceoigne for the night before proceeding to Tremoigne. According to POA and the French prose, it stopped at Ceoigne and went no farther.

In DN, the masons drop a stone from a scaffold onto Renaud’s head as he humbly eats his poor bread. In all other versions, French, Dutch and Latin, they kill him with their hammers or pickaxes. Castets, who thought L was the oldest version, suspected that the variance was due to a confusion between martel meaning hammer and marteau meaning stone block. Perhaps he is right, or perhaps, since D is actually the oldest, he had the matter backwards, and Hunaud I who was killed lapidibus [by stones] became Renaud who was killed, lapicidus [by stonemasons], with a hammer.

The Prose Life of Saint Reinold

The prose Vita Sancti Reinoldi, monachi et martyris completely ignores its hero’s military career. It makes briefly alludes to his wars against Charlemagne, but never makes mention of his horse Baiard, or of his cousin Maugis the enchanter or of his sons Aymonet and Yonnet. It alludes to the fame of the four brothers [whom it does not name] being celebrated in the songs of the people, but that is all. By contrast, the Vita recounts several miracles of Reinold which are not to be found in the Quatre Fils. The writer claims Reinold, after a knightly career, joined a monastery [which one is not specified] in Cologne. While he was still a monk, God answered his prayers by curing a man who had been born blind, and a boy who was sick with a dangerous fever. After these things, by devout prayer he obtained from God the end of a pestilence that was ravaging the country. His fame spread, and songs were sung about him. At his abbot’s orders, he was put in charge of the stonemasons. He continued to visit churches and to devoutly give alms, besides working harder than any of the men under his command. The other masons, excited by jealousy, broke his skull with a hammer, and threw him into the Rhine. Angels bore his soul to heaven. The abbot, searching for the body, could not find it. However, an old and infirm woman had a dream in which she was told to go the river, where blessed Reinold is buried. Upon awakening, she did so and was healed. The monks took his body to the Church and honored him as a saint. Sometime later, the cities of Tremoigne and Clerum [apparently Ceoigne] both wished to have some of the relics of Reinold, and the Archbishop was unsure which to give them to. The Lord indicated Tremoigne [how we are not told], and Reinold’s body was carried thither, without a miracle, but accompanied by three thousand rejoicing citizens. He was laid to rest there on the seventh of January. God continues to work miracles there. The blind have been cured, lepers cleansed and paralytics restored.

There are no dates given whatsoever. The suggestion of the Bollandists that the Archbishop who oversaw the translation of the relics was St. Anno II (r. 1056-1075) is no more than a guess.

The Verse Life of Saint Reinold

The verse Vita Sancti Reynoldi is accompanied in the manuscript by a prose commentary which mostly repeats the same story but sometimes adds new details. The poem tells how Adelhardus, Ritzardus, Reynoldus, and Writardus were Frenchmen, born at Dorduna to Heymon and Aya, daughter of Pipin and sister of King Charles. The four were mighty men of war. Reynoldus was a Catholic man and a great warrior who was filled with virtue and the fear of God and wished to renounce the world. He called his sons and divided his property among them and his wife Claritia, (who is here the daughter, not the sister, of King Ivonis of Tarascon). He leaves the castle of Montalban to his son Emericus, and departs for the wilderness. His father, mother and brothers pursue him but cannot find him. For three years he serves God in the wilderness, until he hears a voice from God telling him to go fight the infidels in Jerusalem. He does so, slaying three Sultans with only a staff. He then returns home, briefly visits Charlemagne’s court, and then goes to Cologne, where Agilolphus (r. 713-717) is bishop. (A medieval note in the manuscript suggests Riolphus (r. 768-782) as the proper reading). Reynoldus lives such a holy life that he cures the blind, dumb, and possessed. The “magister claustri” [abbot] appoints him to oversee the stonemasons. He works harder than any of them, which arouses their envy, and so they kill him. This is the fourteenth of May, the year 800, according to the prose gloss. Reynoldus, now enjoying the beatific vision, appears to a paralytic woman and heals her, and some time afterward an angel shows where his body is lying, and on the third of September it is drawn out of the river and put on display in a church in Cologne, where God cures many more people through it. The people of Tremoigne wish to have the body, and their request is granted. The body is laid in a cart, which moves of its own accord to Tremoigne. The people of Tremoigne build a church for him, whither Charlemagne comes to mourn his nephew.

OTHER VERSIONS

Outside of the chanson, the oldest explicit reference to Renaud of Montauban as a saint is to be found in the work of Alberic of Trois-Fontaines, writing around the year 1232. According to Alberic, Renaldus, Alardus, Richardus, and Guichardus were the four sons of Haymo [Aymon] and of a sister of Charlemagne’s. Saint Renaldus was the oldest of the four, became a monk in the abbey of Saint Pantaleon at Cologne, was there martyred [how is not specified], and is now buried in Tremoigne. Alberic relates their history as a brief aside during a list of Charlemagne’s warriors who accompanied him into Spain in the year 805. He never mentions it elsewhere, so it is unclear what year he thought the martyrdom occurred.

In a ninth century missal from the Cathedral of Cologne, someone has written in tenth century handwriting the names “reginoldi” and “reginoldo” on the margins of the Collect and Postcommunion of the Mass of a martyr. Unfortunately, nothing is known about this saint. The names are all that were thus written, and the prayers themselves are the generic ones from the common of martyrs, and therefore shed no light on how this Reginoldus died. However, he is almost certainly the same saint still venerated today. Paul Fiebig, whose St. Reinoldus in Kult, Liturgie und Kunst is still the definitive book on the cult of St. Reinolt, lists all the other saints he could find named Renaud or something similar, but none of them was a martyr or lived in the 900’s or earlier.

The Legend of Vivian of Aigremont

The legend of Vivien of Monbranc, brother of Malagise, is found in the following versions:

The chanson de geste in rhymed Alexandrines, in the manuscript Montpellier H. 247, from between 1350 and 1400. The poem is from around 1225-1275, but the only surviving copy is very obviously abridged.

The prose rendering in BNf. Fr. 19.173, rather expanded, and interlaced with the history of Maugis.

No English translations.

VIVIEN L’AMACHOUR DE MONBRANC

MANUSCRIPT M: MONTPELLIER

Containing Doon de Mayence, Gaufrey, Ogier le Danois, Gui de Nanteuil, Maugis D’Aigremont (abridged) Vivien l’Amachour (probably abridged, but no earlier copies are known), and Renaud de Montauban (abridged, ending lost, stops as Renaud is on pilgrimage).

Vivien and his wife Esclarmonde convert to Christianity, to the anger of Sodant of Babylon, who lays siege to Vivien’s castle of Monbranc. They send for help to Bueves of Aigremont, Aymon of Dordonne, Girart of Roussillon, Doon of Nanteuil, and Maugis. Bueves and Maugis call on Charlemagne for aid, threatening to renounce their vassalship if he refuses. He refuses, and they do so, with insults. Lohier, Charles’ son, is infuriated, and strikes Maugis with the flat of his sword, but Maugis makes an illusionary river flow between them, and escapes with his father. They join their kinsmen, including Renaut, Aalart, and their horse Bayart. Maugis sends his squire Fousifie ahead, who makes himself and his dromedary invisible to pass the Pagan lines and reach Monbranc. Vivien, encouraged by his arrival, makes a sally, but is captured. The Pagans send him to Babylon, but Maugis, Renaud and Aalart rescue him. A long and bloody battle follows, wherein King Othon, King Brandoine, and Brandoine’s uncle Hernaut de Moncler are slain on the Christian side, and everyone on the heathens’. Maugis returns to Rocheflour with Oriande. Vivien and Esclarmonde remain in Monbranc. Bueves lives peacefully until the day Lohier is sent to him.

ORIGINS OF THE LEGEND

Pure fiction. Written c. 1240-1260. After Renaud de Montauban and Maugis d’Aigremont, but before Gaufrey, Doon de Mayence, and Gaydon. An Amachour is allegedly a Saracen title, probably in reality a corruption of “Emir”.

Book I, Canto VIII, Part 3

The Orlando Innamorato in English translation, Book I, Canto VIII, Stanzas 41-64

41
“Then secretly their flesh with me I took
Into the kitchen, and I made a fire.
I’d been their butcher; now was I their cook.
Ah! What cannot be done by woman’s ire?
I served them to their father, who partook
Of my meat pie with relish and desire.
Ah, cruel sun, how could you bear to shine
And gaze on such a horrid deed as mine?

42
“I left the banquet, no one was aware;
My bloody hands and garments none did see.
Towards Orgagna’s king with haste I fared,
Who for long years had burned with love for me,
And was a kinsman unto Stella fair.
I told him all my woeful history.
I led him and his men in army bright
The death of poor Grifone to requite.

43
“We came too late, though eagerly we sped.
For I no sooner did the castle fly
Than cruel Stella, once the guests were fed,
Came to Marchino, her face lit with joy,
And served him one, and then the other head
Of his two sons, whom I’d baked in a pie.
Grief and horror overwhelm each knight;
Their father most, who knew them at first sight.

44
“Stella stood there with disheveled hair.
Her face distorted, she began to rave,
And cried aloud, ‘Those are thy children there,
Those are their heads, and if thy soul doth crave
To see their tomb, look in thy belly, where
Thou buriedst them. Thou art thy children’s grave.’
Now the false traitor knight is racked with pain.
Love and cruelty fight in his brain.

45
“This outrage fearful and unparalleled
Invites a vengeance cruel beyond all other.
On th’other hand, her flow’ry face impelled
Him to have mercy, for he fiercely loved her.
At last, he plumps for vengeance, but he’s held
Bu one thing: How to best be vengèd of her?
When he thinks of the outrage she’s committed,
It seems no punishment on earth is fitted.

46
“To fetch Grifone’s corpse he sends his men,
Which lies unburied in his dying-place.
He binds that body to the lady then,
Hands against hands, his face against her face.
To such a pleasure doth he her condemn.
Now has there ever been a man so base?
The stench was foul of Grifon’s remains,
To which the lovely lady’s bound with chains.

47
“Orgagna’s king now to the castle came,
And with him I and all his meinie rude.
But when he saw us coming o’er theplain
Marchino slit the lovely Stella’s throat.
The lady, not his lust, was thereby slain.
For dead as living with her he abode.
I think he did it only for to boast
Of all men living he had sinned the most.

48
“We then arrived, and after battle hard
Entered the castle and the keep secured
And took Marchin, whose body was all scarred
From many wounds and battles he’d endured.
We hacked him into pieces in the yard,
And then the luckless Stella we interred
Within an ornamented sepulchre,
And laid her dear Grifone next to her.

49
“Orgagna’s king, his vengeance wrought, went home.
Within this dismal castle rested I,
But when eight months and one away had flown
We heard a horrible, bloodthirsty cry
Out of the tomb. What made it was unknown.
To tell our terror, I can’t even try.
Except three giants bold who knew no fear..
The King had ordered them to guard me here.

50
“One of them, great of heart and stout of limb,
Opened the sepulchre lid just a slit.
Regret immediately conquered him.
Because a monster, though it couldn’t fit
Its body through, thrust out a talon grim
And raked and clawed him so, he died of it
Almost at once. It tore of hunks of meat
And bones alike, and pulled them in to eat.

51
“Another man so bold could not be found
As to go near that house of woe and gloom.
We built a thick and lofty wall around
The church. With powder we destroyed the tomb.
A dark misshapen beast crawled on the ground.
We took one glance and fled for fear of doom.
Its awful shape I won’t describe to thee,
For it will be the last thing thou dost see.

52
“This custom all of us thereat decreed
Each day to slay a man and o’er the wall
To throw his body, for the beast to feed
Upon, lest it should seek to eat us all.
Bu when we catch more travelers than we need,
We cut some’s throats, stick some on gibbets tall,
And some alive we cut in pieces four.
Didst see them hanging over our front door?”

53
After the custom in its full enormity
And the detestable and unmatched crimes
By which begotten was the foul deformity
Are all explained, Rinaldo’s horror climbs.
And turning to the old hag who helped form it, he
Exclaims, “Ah, mother! Throw me in, that’s fine.
I only ask, as thou dost love Our Lord,
To let me have my armor and my sword.

54
The hag guffaws and says “It won’t help much!
But take whatever weapons that thou wilt.
No shield can save thee from its talons clutch.
By sword or mace its blood’s been never spilt.
Its teeth can slice through iron with a touch.
‘Twill gnaw thy broadsword up, both blade and hilt.
But take whatso thou wilt. Thy life is done
Regardless, but the beast will have some fun.”

55
The morning sun was raising up his head,
As Don Rinald was lowered over the wall.
The church door opened, and at once out sped
A beast misshapen and grotesquical.
It gnashed its teeth together. Filled with dread,
The lookers-on went running, one and all.
The wall is high and thick, but nonetheless,
In fear and terror, down the stairs they press.

56
Nobody stays to watch Rinald’s defense.
His shining armor and Fusbert he took.
But I believe you all are in suspense
To know just how the monster fearsome looked.
The loathsome beast’s existence fell commenced
When some ill demon from Hell’s darkest nook
Transformed Marchino’s seed inside the flesh
Of her whom he had lately put to death.

57
It’s larger than a bull, and far more strong.
Its massive head is rather like a snake’s.
Its mouth in measurement is six palms long.
Each of its teeth a palm and half length’s takes.
It has two tusks like boars’. Against these prongs
No shield nor armor can resistance make.
Upon each of its temples grew a horn
Which any way it wished the beast could turn.

58
Each of the horns like swords is sharp and keen;
Its bellowing could fill the deaf with fright.
Its skin was particolored gold and green,
And scarlet, sooty black, and snowy white.
Bloodstains amidst its tangled beard were seen.
Its eyes were blazing with hellfire’s light.
Its hands looked human, but they had such claws
As ne’er were seen on bears’ or lions’ claws.

59
Its teeth and talons were so sharp and hard
That they could pierce through any plate or mail.
Its pelt was thick. It never had been scarred,
Because no blade against it could prevail.
Now this abomination’s eyes regard
Rinaldo, and it rushes like a gale.
Upon two feet it turns, its mouth agape.
Rinaldo swings Fusberta at the shape.

60
And smacks it in the middle of its maw.
The wrathful monster moves as swift as fire,
Faces the knight, lifts up a massive paw,
And brings it down, and lands a blow so dire
It sheers right through his mail. So much it claws,
It tears to ribbons all his steel attire.
So strong its claws, so deftly does it work,
The worthy knight’s left standing in his shirt.

61
Rinaldo’s far from paralyzed by fear:
He sees death imminent and doesn’t blench.
He strikes a two-hand blow behind its ear.
Alas! The monster doesn’t even flinch.
But with each blow he lands, it grows more fierce.
Enraged, it leaps aback, then forward sprints,
And now with one paw, now the other slashes,
And on Rinaldo’s skin makes ugly gashes.

62
He bears four grievous wounds, but nonetheless
The world holds not a baron stouter-hearted.
He looks death in the face without distress.
His wrath burned fiercer as his strength departed.
What would in any other fight be best
In this one only gets his troubles started.
For even if the monster’s flesh he carves,
The castle folk may leave him here to starve.

63
The day’s beginning to give way to dusk,
And all this time the battle fierce has raged.
Rinaldo’s back against the wall is thrust.
He’s lost much blood and he is growing faint.
His death is pressing close at hand, he trusts.
But still he strikes great blows with his good blade.
It’s true, the monster’s blood may not be spilt,
But still he gives it many ugly welts.

64
His life he shall sell dearly, come what may.
He swings a mighty stroke, that baron true.
The wicked monster knocks his sword away.
Now what can Montalbano’s baron do?
He cannot flee. He’s doomed if he should stay
Because Fusberta from his grasp out flew.
But you must wait to hear about their war.
For in this canto I shall tell no more.

Notes

Notes to the Eighth Canto, Part 3

The Orlando Innamorato in English translation, Book I, Canto VIII, Stanzas 41-64 Notes.

46. Boiardo is airing his classical learning here. (He translated several Greek and Latin classics into Italian) Just as the vengeance of Marchino’s wife is based on the Greek myth of Procne and Philomela (which Boiardo would have read in Ovid), so Marchino’s vengeance was the favorite punishment of King Mezentius in the Aeneid.
50. Boiardo now moves from classical lore to medieval, as is typical of him. A similar story to this one was brought back by the Crusaders from the Byzantine Empire. It was a development of the Gorgon legend, and told how a young man who lived near the Gulf of Satalia [now called Antalya], consumed with lust for his deceased lady-love, begot a terrible head that, every seven years, rose out of the Gulf and brought misfortune or storms. Various versions can be found in Walter Map’s Courtiers’ Trifles, Book 4; Gervase of Tilbury’s Otia Imperialia 2.12; Mandeville’s Travels, usually near the section on Constantinople; and other places.
52. The cruelty is partly gratuitous, but partly prudent: it keeps prisoners from escaping and from needing to be fed.
57. Turning horns are generally attributed to the eale or yale, a creature found in Pliny (VIII.30) and sometimes in heraldry, but not, as far as I have ever seen, appearing in fiction or folklore.