So now we were left with how Madalgarius had set out to challenge Marfisa, and how she had accepted. Oh gods, love really does complicate things. After all the trouble I went through to bring them together, now they make this mess for me? Anyway, not all evil comes to harm in the end. If they hadn't got into a fight, I couldn't tell you the story of duels and battles and nymphs and dragons that I wanted to. But these things can wait for now. Let us return to our two young lovers and the battle that will begin their real adventure.
Madalgarius waited with great eagerness for the battle to begin; for he could not wait to show what he was capable of; but, as with every lover, waiting displeased him; and so, as soon as he saw Marfisa approaching, he could no longer speak and had to act. He moved furiously and without caution, colliding with Marfisa's blades.
Whoever saw two lions in the woods, raging and engaged in battle, or heard two great thunderclaps in the air, burning with fury, fire and flame; would see nothing compared to that swan and that fox, attacking each other so fiercely that it seemed as if the heavens were burning and the world was falling to the ground as one sword struck the other.
Astulfus felt small in comparison. To him, this was a battle between titans amid a storm, but he resisted the temptation to lower his gaze in shame and continued to watch. He would never be like them, but it was an honour to be able to watch them so closely.
Seized with impatience, Madalgarius immediately went on the attack, slashing with his romphaia, only to retreat as Marfisa threw her cloak aside to grab his weapon.
Madalgarius must have known this trick, or at least sensed that if the curved tip of his romphaia got caught in her cloak, it would be the end of him. So, he kept his distance and thought about a possible strategy.
Marfisa did not mind his choice, as she was more used to attacking than being attacked, but this romphaia with its longer reach was a problem for her. So, they both kept their distance and waited for the right moment.
Marfisa preferred the first style of fencing: a continuous series of blows anticipated by a good disguise of her intentions. On the other hand, the first style taught her to assess the moment, and the moment was neither conducive to attack nor defence, it was simply stasis. Who knows, Marfisa thought, maybe I can try to mix the styles.
Marfisa lowered her guard and, as the second style taught, spread her arms, exposing her chest and opening herself to an attack, ready to deflect and counter. Once Madalgarius' attack was exhausted, she would have the moment to strike and keep him on his heels.
But the attack never came. Three times Marfisa exposed herself, and three times the attack did not come. Madalgarius continued to tergiversate.
"What's the matter? Weren't you supposed to show me your bravery?" said Marfisa mockingly, and finally something moved.
Madalgarius raised the romphaia, preparing to strike from his right, but when the time came to strike, he muffled the grip and swung the attack to start from his left. A good feint, worthy of the second style, but Marfisa managed to deflect it anyway, stepping forward and throwing her cloak to grab his helmet and obscure his vision.
Madalgarius, however, shifted to the side and sprinted forward, striking Marfisa in the ribs and knocking her off balance.
Madalgarius stood close to her, denying her the space to manoeuvre the sword, and struck her with the hilt. Then he grabbed her and pushed her, using his greater physical strength.
Marfisa tried to fight back until she felt Madalgarius' foot grab her leg and knock her off balance.
She grabbed hold of him, hoping to pull him with her, but realising it was useless, she gave a push and threw herself backwards, rolling as far as she could.
Madalgarius attacked again and again, preventing her from getting up, until Marfisa managed to grab the romphaia as it was lifted.
Marfisa tried to strike at his weapon with her sword, but Madalgarius threw the romphaia aside. I cannot say whether he did this for strategic reasons or because he feared that the blade, though fey, might break, but he was on her immediately and disarmed her of the sword with a kick.
They both looked at each other, surprised to be disarmed, and looked around to see what the best thing to do was. This fight was getting longer and more complex than they thought. And certainly not for lack of effort. Did you ever expect this? The great Marfisa being put through the wringer by someone who is not her brother Rogerius! She could not allow such a rumour to spread.
Marfisa immediately threw herself at him: She shoved him on the shoulder, grabbed him by the groin and threw him to the ground. She straddled him and pinned him down with her arms.
She was about to punch him when Madalgarius hit her on the inside of the elbow and knocked her to the side, where Marfisa rolled away to avoid being grabbed. She grabbed the nearest weapon and...
To be honest, they did not know what to do: Marfisa was now holding Madalgarius' Romphaia, and Madalgarius was holding Marfisa's sword. Not that they didn't know how to use them, though....
Marfisa felt something coming from the Romphaia, a force she could not explain. She tried to attack. The blow was so powerful that it knocked the sword from the hand of Madalgarius, who slipped to the side and struck her on the helmet with the back of his hand. Then he struck her on the wrist, causing her to lose her weapon.
They took a step back, ready to strike, but the moment their eyes met, they stopped.
It was as if they had both lost all their strength, and the more they looked at each other, the more their will to fight vanished. But there was a smile on Marfisa's face, a smile that showed happiness and joy.
Marfisa was smiling. It was obvious that she was enjoying herself. As was Madalgarius, who was pleased to have impressed her. Meanwhile, Astulfus clapped his hands, as one would in a real arena, and said: "You were truly exceptional."
Astulfus was truly thrilled by the spectacle he had just witnessed. He couldn't stop clapping his hands.
"No wonder, Marfisa, that you like Madalgarius. Together with you he is truly amazing..." he said, making her blush slightly. Marfisa replied immediately: "It's not true that I like Madalgarius. To say that I hardly know him is an exaggeration."
"Eh? And yet I thought I saw you smile," said Astulfus. "Smiling, as a woman in love smiles. Unless I was somehow mistaken. You were really happy, and you seemed happy even when you were talking to him in the library."
Now more than red, Marfisa had become a real flame, trying to hide her cheeks from the gaze, while Madalgarius' heartbeat with the hope that his love would be reciprocated. Unfortunately, things do not always turn out as one hopes.
Marfisa was too proud to admit that love cannot be commanded. To make people believe that love couldn't conquer her, something had to be said, no matter how stupid it was at the moment.
Marfisa replied: 'It is to his honour to oppose me, but it is not by chance that I boast of being undefeated! And if someone really wants to have me, he must do much more to impress me. I, who know best the secrets of the nymphs and satyrs of the forest of Hercynia, do you think I am surprised by a simple and friendly clash of steel?"
With these words, Marfisa laid down her terms, and you can imagine how upset Madalgarius was to see her, who had previously looked at him dreamily, now hold him in such low esteem. He knew it was a matter of momentary pride, but now it was also his own pride that would not listen to reason.
If Marfisa wanted to be conquered, he would conquer her either in a regular duel or by winning glory. Love had put him in a position where he would have thrown himself into the fire for her, but pride had now put him in a worse position. Therefore, she said: "Thou art worthy of thy glory, for I have never seen such arrogance. Stand up and use your courage, so that I may treat you as you deserve, and do not hope that I shall restrain myself until I have seized you and chained you by the wrists.
"Oh, oh, oh, here's someone who hopes to beat me. Let's see if you can amuse me..." Marfisa replied in a mocking tone, as if she did not value him at all, but in her heart, there was a certain hesitation. Nevertheless, she said again: "Listen, Madalgarius, if you challenge me, I will not be offended. If you try, I will not hide, but you will soon be among the many who have lost."
So, they said and were so filled with anger and rage at hearing each other speak so arrogantly that they both forgot how much they did not want to fight. Each cursed the other for putting him in a position where there was no retreat.
They clashed again, one armed with a sword, the other with a long romphaia. Storm and thunder, fire and flame, they would have seemed nothing compared to this swan and this fox, attacking each other so fiercely.
They attacked each other with fierce fury, gazing at each other with fierce glances. Believing each to be right, they trembled with rage and sweated with fear. Now Marfisa struck, now Madalgarius countered, each believing, no doubt, that with the last blow they had ended the dance. But then the blade came back clean, without a drop of blood; nor was there much to wonder at, for neither really wanted to hurt the other, so much as not to retreat. And through it all, Astulfus continued to applaud.
It was not clear whether Astulfus had realised that Marfisa was pretending not to be in love, or whether he was too stupid to get the message; but she could not stand this attitude any longer. No, no, that would never happen. She was not in love, and no one could think that. If Astulfus did not believe her, the next blow would make him believe she was serious.
She waited for an opening. It was not difficult to find, for Madalgarius did not want to hurt the woman he loved. With a snap, Marfisa struck him in the stomach. Madalgarius was thrown backwards with such force that he hit the wall behind him and fell to the ground. What Marfisa had to do now was.... Marfisa froze. Madalgarius was lying on the ground and wouldn't get up.
It was like waking up from a dream and still thinking you were dreaming. He was going to get up, wasn't he? Madalgarius let out a grunt and slowly got to his feet with Astulfus' help.
"S-sorry," said Marfisa, and then nothing more. She ran off, disappearing around the corner.
Madalgarius looked down at his armour. There was a long gash, but the blow had not affected the hauberk, and the gambeson had absorbed the blow. He turned his gaze to where Marfisa had fled. He had not been hurt, but that did not mean he did not have a bleeding wound.
Marfisa's reaction had hurt him; and although she had fled, showing guilt and shame, he felt it was not enough. Marfisa returned his love, but Madalgarius did not want to be a man she was ashamed of, or ashamed to say she was in love with.
I, who know best the secrets of the nymphs and satyrs of the forest of Hercynia, do you think I am surprised by a simple and friendly clash of steel? was what Marfisa said, but how to surprise or impress her? The only solution was...
"Astulfus..." said Madalgarius, "...you and Marfisa are going to the games in the amphitheatre tomorrow. Aren't you?"
"Taking part may not be the right word..." replied Astulfus, "...I think taking a beating is the right phrase."
"In any case, you have a much better chance of seeing her again than I do. There is one favour I would like to ask of you, if you can do it for me. I have decided to go out tonight and try to discover the origin of those three golden apples she was so interested in. I hope to win her heart. I therefore ask you, by Jupiter Optimus Maximus, to inform her of my decision."
"Ah, of course! I wish you all the luck you need, but do you know where you are going?" said Astulfus.
Madalgarius crossed his arms and thought, then said: "I think I will go to the land of the catizi to do my research, and I will return with a branch from the tree that produced these three apples."
Astulfus watched him go, and part of him wanted to accompany him on this noble quest, but perhaps because of his insecure nature, or perhaps because of the voices about the occult powers of the catizi, he chose to remain silent.
Madalgarius turned away and, having said these words, set off in the direction of Porta Capena: the gate of Rome that led to Capua. But he had no intention of leaving the city. He wanted to visit the valley of the Camenae. It was there that the ancient king Numa met the nymph Egeria, his wife and lover, to ask her advice, and Madalgarius needed it.
As he walked in that direction, he met another maiden walking in the half-light, framed by the moon.
She was Medulfa Calpurnia Asclepiades, or simply Medulfa to her friends. She was a peach-skinned beauty with an athletic appearance and red hair tied in two long braids. She wore a black Pannonian cap with an ankh on the front, a dress with short sleeves and long black gloves, a skirt with a long slit down the left side, and thigh-high white stockings.
Memorable was her appearance, so much so that she was second only to Marfisa (some say equal, but both, obviously, second to me). But even more memorable was her cheerful and outgoing personality. Very lively, she was a real prankster, although she was able to behave like a perfect lady when the occasion called for it; certainly, much better than Marfisa.
She was sociable and friendly with everyone, certainly a cheerful character who loved to eat, and in fact she was taking her last steps, eating her last skewers, when her gaze was drawn to a couple not too far from her. They were a couple in name only, for if you looked closely at the woman's stomach, you could see that there were three of them.
Medulfa stopped under a lamppost and touched her belly with a sad look that seemed out of character to those who knew her. Then she noticed Madalgarius and regained her composure.
"You are the man from Agromons who accompanied the green-haired witch?" said Medulfa in a curious tone, to which Madalgarius replied: "Yes, my name is Madalgarius, while the lady's name is Varuclezia."
"Right! Well, to what do we owe this night walk? Have you come to enjoy the moonlight? Perhaps with a lady?" said Medulfa in a mischievous tone that made Madalgarius blush: "Perhaps. After all, it was in this moonlight that I found you.
It was Medulfa who blushed at this, but she did not reply, leaving Madalgarius to continue the conversation.
"You are... Medulfa, right?" replied Madalgarius. "Sorry I don't know much about you, but the gladiators of Rome are a bit much to remember."
"Does that mean you haven't heard any of the rumours about me?" said Medulfa in surprise.
"I know you are physically very strong for a woman, and it is said that you can hold your own against many men when it comes to brute strength, but I'm sorry I don't know more."
Madalgarius looked at her, worried that he had offended her with his ignorance. Also, because despite the rumours of her strength, she didn't look any more muscular than any other gladiatrix he'd seen. Though she was certainly much more athletic than Marfisa.
Medulfa smiled and shook his hand: "Yes, I am quite strong."
Madalgarius felt an iron grip squeeze his hand, causing him such pain that he fell to his knees.
"Yes, I would say you are indeed strong. Your fame is as well-deserved as ever..." said Madalgarius, looking at his hand, which was slowly returning to colour from the pallor of the grip, "...you are indeed the strongest of the gladiators, but now that I think about it, you are not just a gladiator. If I remember correctly, something else was said about you as well."
"...!!"
"You're a disciple of Aesculapius, right?"
"...?"
Medulfa had not expected this.
"Well, if I need a doctor, now I know who to call," said Madalgarius, but without getting an immediate answer from Medulfa, who kept looking at him in surprise.
"Ah! Usually not many people remember that I'm also a doctor," said Medulfa, not knowing what to say, but flattered that he remembered that detail. Suddenly Medulfa's soul was awakened to a vivid interest.
"I suppose that's where Asclepiades' surname comes from. Did you get it from Asclepiades of Bithynia?"
"Huh?" now Medulfa was even more interested. That name was much more popular with doctors than with people. "Well, that is, I mean... I'm not his descendant, unfortunately. I sort of gave it to myself while studying his medical texts... would you like some ice cream?" said Medulfa, suddenly changing the subject. "You seem a bit down."
"I think something sweet will do me good."
So, they stopped off at the ice-cream parlour on Caelian Hill, where Rome's richest families often met to chat about this and that. Luckily for them, the owner had not yet closed and was happy to serve them, perhaps because he thought they were important people, or perhaps more simply because he had mistaken them for a loving couple whom he was happy to help.
The icemaker descended into the icehouse below, where the winter's snow was stored. Medulfa and Madalgarius waited around a small round table in a room whose walls were painted with images of the four seasons.
Medulfa was visibly uncomfortable there, for despite her elegant dress and popularity as a gladiatrix, her finances did not match her appearance. Still, she had no intention of disfiguring herself in front of Madalgarius, let alone exposing her humble condition. At least not right away. Perhaps in time Madalgarius would fall in love with her enough to overlook her humble condition, but for now she would not risk it.
The ice-cream vendor returned shortly after, handing them two sorbets of walnuts and dates. Medulfa frantically searched her purse for the copper coins, half hoping she had enough to pay and half hoping she had enough to spare. There was no need. Madalgarius, as a good citizen, could not allow a young lady to pay, and placed a silver coin on the table.
"Tell me, how did a doctor become a gladiator?" said Madalgarius.
"Oh, nothing special. I'm not sure it was my choice. I like to go to the gym when I'm angry, then I switched to fencing, then someone noticed me, then... well, let's just say I like to walk down the street and have someone recognise me and say hello. It makes me feel like I've achieved something".
"An admirable goal."
"But come on, enough about me. Tell me, do you know you really look like a fox in that armour?" said Medulfa, touching the fur. "You should be careful: don't you know that all foxes end up in the fur shop?"
Madalgarius laughed at the joke and said: "It's really nice to spend time with you, I'm really glad to have met you."
Medulfa's cheeks flushed, and she suddenly found her heart beating fast. She couldn't remember how long it had been since someone had taken an interest in her, let alone wanted to get to know her as a person.
Oh, my goodness, now there are two lovesick maidens! And I assure you, I had nothing to do with it... this time. I may or may not have given Marfisa a little push, but I am innocent of this encounter.
Medulfa laughed and smiled like she hadn't in years, if ever, and the world seemed to have changed. A strange joy had come over her and any topic of conversation seemed acceptable to her if it was with Madalgarius.
Still, Madalgarius liked to listen and did not find it boring to hear about the parts of plants and animals that Medulfa had studied by reading the works of Aristotle and Theophrastus. Instead, Madalgarius wanted to give something of his own and contribute to the conversation, in a cyclical teaching and learning, until Medulfa interrupted the discussion.
"What's that?" said Medulfa, intrigued by the strange glint on Madalgarius' finger.
Madalgarius looked no less curiously at the ring on his finger and said: "Your eyes are indeed sceptical and curious to notice such a peculiar detail".
"Why do you think that? That ring looks very peculiar to me” said Medulfa, drawing a smile from Madalgarius, who said, "But you have only noticed it now. It is of little value that something is peculiar unless one can take a step aside. For arcane things are only revealed to those who know how to seek."
"...?"
"Sorry. It's just my way of saying that you really are a special person when you notice details hidden in plain sight."
Medulfa blushed.
Madalgarius removed the ring from his finger so that Medulfa could see it in its entirety. Now it was no longer a mysterious glint on Madalgarius' finger, but a concrete object shining before his eyes.
"Have you ever seen a fey object?" said Madalgarius.
Medulfa shook her head, and then Madalgarius continued: "Such objects are not made for people who only see things as they are on the surface, nor for people who do not know how to be curious. Even if you were only able to see a glimpse of it, it remains an extraordinary achievement on your part.”
Medulfa blushed, then said: “I know only of Philolaus of Tricca, called Aesculapius, son of Ischi and Coronides, and father of medicine. He was the one who taught men the many fey things learned from the gods, which we still study and improve today.
I know about plants and minerals and their magical virtues that restore health, but these are things that people no longer consider fey, even though they come from the gods: only because it is human hands that grind leaves and make potions to relieve coughs and heal wounds. But I still see the value in them, or at least I like to think so when I leaf through medical texts and study them with the zeal of a sacred text.”
Medulfa noticed Madalgarius' eyes gleaming with interest, and felt her heart beat faster at the attention. But in the end, Madalgarius had to go. He took his leave of Medulfa and continued his way to the Valley of the Camenae. It was not long after this that, for better or worse, she happened to meet Astulfus. I need not tell you how Medulfa reacted when she spoke to him and discovered that Madalgarius was about to leave the city in search of adventure. She glanced towards the imperial palaces, then in the direction Madalgarius had gone. She had to choose one of the two directions, what to do?
It wasn't as if she could follow a man, she'd known for less than an hour, was it? But such a man she might not even find again.
"Well, thank you for letting me know," said Medulfa, nodding and quickly retracing her steps until she was out of Astulfus' sight.
"..."
"..."
"..."
"...!!"
Yes, from the look on his face, I would tell Astulfus that he had better hurry to warn Marfisa.
"Damn, damn, my bad luck. It's one thing for luck to torment me, but to separate such a beautiful couple..." said Astulfus to himself, twirling his spear, the magical power of which he ignored. "...damn for the third time. First, I make Marfisa quarrel with Madalgarius, now Marfisa is in danger of being robbed of him!"
So he hurried off in search of Marfisa, without waiting for the next day. He found her in the garden of the Imperial Palace and told her the whole story in detail. It was not because Marfisa was in love with Madalgarius, of course not. The beautiful Marfisa would never fall in love like a mere maiden, everyone knows that! Astulfus spoke casually of something that had happened to him. Everything else was just coincidence.
Marfisa said nothing, but she was so burning with love that she could hardly hide her feelings. Perhaps it was better to say that she had coals in her shoes, for she could not stand still with one foot without moving the other.
Marfisa said nothing. She said goodbye in silence, reached her room and threw herself on the bed. There was so much pain inside her.
He was just a man. She could find many of them. She hadn't lost anything that she couldn't find again, but Madalgarius still lingered in her mind. Despite the words she repeated to herself, she, the flower of every warrior, cried in bed like a miserable child.
She tossed and turned but found no peace. She clutched the pillow and curled up under the covers (such is the pain that grips her). She who had thrown so many men to the ground was now crying in bed, like boys do when they are rejected.
"Damn..." said Marfisa, raising her arm to the sky, "...why do I have no defence against this enemy in my heart? Why is it not possible to take up the sword and wage war against Love? He sets my soul on fire, and revenge I cannot take? What sorrow is less for me? To burn with desire or with humiliation?
For I, who was never defeated in all my life, am now beaten like a miserable girl".
Thus said Marfisa, until she was interrupted by a laugh. She looked beyond the blanket and saw a beautiful green-haired lady gazing at the stars from the balcony. I stood on the balustrade with my back to her and my feet dangling into the void.
"Deh! There she is, the cause of all my misfortune, all my evil and ruin," said Marfisa.
"Mah! I did nothing..." said I, raising my hands, "...I just crashed a party."
"Yeah. I guess that's the same excuse you used with my father years ago," said Marfisa, irritated.
"You used to sneak into his house and cause disasters left and right."
"Actually, I just slept on his sofa in his pyjamas. It's not my fault if your father followed me on an adventure."
"..."
"I may have pushed him out the door that morning, but only a little."
Marfisa snuggled into the covers, and I sat down beside her and said: "So? What are you going to do with this young man? You seem to like him."
"I'd rather lock myself in here than lose face. I am the great Marfisa, I don't chase after men like a fragile girl. I would rather let this flame gnaw at me from the inside, than be ashamed that a pretty face is enough to chain my legs and arms".
"Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. The great Marfisa is afraid to be honest. I don't remember a pretty face being enough to reduce you to a rag," said I. "But in the end, the choice is yours. Just know that opportunities have short hair at the back and long hair at the front. You must catch them as they pass. Not when they have passed."
"Se futuat torneamentum! Habeo meliora facere, fuck the tournament! I have better things to do," said Marfisa as she got up and packed her bag.
"That's the spirit!" said I cheerfully. "But not to criticise a decision I myself urged, but... do you know exactly where Madalgarius is or where he is going?"
"That is not difficult. I know that he is searching for the catizi. He must be going to the Isle of Peuce.
"Then this will be interesting," said I, making notes on a wax tablet.
"Wait, you're not going to write an epic poem about my love misadventures, are you?"
"Of course not, silly girl..." said I, "...I'm going to write an epic prose. Besides, I've always been more the epic type than the romance type."
I said this and left as I had arrived: mysteriously.
Marfisa got up from the bed where she had been crying. Moments suddenly seemed like centuries, and she could not wait for Medulfa to reach Madalgarius first.
She took her weapons and her cloak and so armed she slipped away from the Imperial Palaces. She sighed and left, heading east.
But let us rest for now, for I am tired of writing. Marfisa may not be able to wait, but it is better to take a break before the next chapter is written.
