“It is an enchanter,” said the host, “a magician who often is seen traversing the air in that way.  Sometimes he flies aloft as if among the stars, and at others skims along the land.  He possesses a wonderful castle on the top of the Pyrenees.  Many knights have shown their courage by going to attack him, but none have ever returned, from which it is to be feared they have lost either their life or their liberty.”

Bradamante, addressing the host, said, “Could you furnish me a guide to conduct me to the castle of this enchanter?” “By my faith,” said Brunello, interrupting, “that you shall not seek in vain; I have it all in writing, and I will myself conduct you.”  Bradamante, with thanks, accepted him for her guide.

The host had a tolerable horse to dispose of, which Bradamante bargained for, and the next day, at the first dawn of morning, she took her route by a narrow valley, taking care to have the Saracen Brunello lead the way.

They reached the summit of the Pyrenees, whence one may look down on France, Spain, and the two seas.  From this height they descended again by a fatiguing road into a deep valley.  From the middle of this valley an isolated mountain rose, composed of rough and perpendicular rock, on whose summit was the castle, surrounded with a wall of brass.  Brunello said, “Yonder is the stronghold where the enchanter keeps his prisoners; one must have wings to mount thither; it is easy to see that the aid of a flying horse must be necessary for the master of this castle, which he uses for his prison and for his abode.”

Bradamante, sufficiently instructed, saw that the time had now come to possess herself of the ring; but she could not resolve to slay a defenceless man.  She seized Brunello before he was aware, bound him to a tree, and took from him the ring which he wore on one of his fingers.  The cries and entreaties of the perfidious Saracen moved her not.  She advanced to the foot of the rock whereon the castle stood, and, to draw the magician to the combat, sounded her horn, adding to it cries of defiance.

The enchanter delayed not to present himself, mounted on his winged horse.  Bradamante was struck with surprise mixed with joy when she saw that this person, described as so formidable, bore no lance nor club, nor any other deadly weapon.  He had only on his arm a buckler, covered with a cloth, and in his hand an open book.  As to the winged horse, there was no enchantment about him.  He was a natural animal, of a species which exists in the Riphaean mountains.  Like a griffin, he had the head of an eagle, claws armed with talons, and wings covered with feathers, the rest of his body being that of a horse.  This strange animal is called a Hippogriff.