Not less was the distress of the lady Bradamante, who, rather than wed any one but Rogero, resolved to break her word, and defy kindred, court, and Charlemagne himself; and, if nothing else would do, to die.  But relief came from an unexpected quarter.  Marphisa, sister of Rogero, was a heroine of warlike prowess equal to Bradamante.  She had been the confidante of their loves, and felt hardly less distress than themselves at seeing the perils which threatened their union.  “They are already united by mutual vows,” she said, “and in the sight of Heaven what more is necessary?” Full of this thought she presented herself before Charlemagne, and declared that she herself was witness that the maiden had spoken to Rogero those words which they who marry swear; and that the compact was so sealed between the pair that they were no longer free, nor could forsake the one the other to take another spouse.  This her assertion she offered to prove, in single combat, against Prince Leo, or any one else.

Charlemagne, sadly perplexed at this, commanded Bradamante to be called, and told her what the bold Marphisa had declared.  Bradamante neither denied nor confirmed the statement, but hung her head, and kept silence.  Duke Aymon was enraged, and would fain have set aside the pretended contract on the ground that, if made at all, it must have been made before Rogero was baptized, and therefore void.  But not so thought Rinaldo, nor the good Orlando, and Charlemagne knew not which way to decide, when Marphisa spoke thus: 

“Since no one else can marry the maiden while my brother lives, let the prince meet Rogero in mortal combat, and let him who survives take her for his bride.”

This saying pleased the Emperor, and was accepted by the prince, for he thought that, by the aid of his unknown champion, he should surely triumph in the fight.  Proclamation was therefore made for Rogero to appear and defend his suit; and Leo, on his part, caused search to be made on all sides for the knight of the Unicorn.

Meanwhile Rogero, overwhelmed with despair, lay stretched on the ground in the forest night and day without food, courting death.  Here he was discovered by one of Leo’s people, who, finding him resist all attempts to remove him, hastened to his master, who was not far off, and brought him to the spot.  As he approached he heard words which convinced him that love was the cause of the knight’s despair; but no clew was given to guide him to the object of that love.  Stooping down, the prince embraced the weeping warrior, and, in the tenderest accents, said:  “Spare not, I entreat you, to disclose the cause of your distress, for few such desperate evils betide mankind as are wholly past cure.  It grieves me much that you would hide your grief from me, for I am bound to you by ties that nothing can undo.  Tell me, then, your grief, and leave me to try if wealth, art, cunning, force, or persuasion cannot relieve you.  If not, it will be time enough after all has been tried in vain to die.”