Previously published in the Bowmen's Bulletin, Issue 18, April 1992.
Used with Stefano Benini's permission.
On the Legnano fields in the year 1176, the German Emperor Friedrich I, called Red Beard, gave battle against the Lombard rebels, who fought for Italian Independence. He moved against the improvised Free Common Lombard Army with his powerful knights. He was defeated and nearly killed, but he saved himself by taking flight. His army was scattered and a lot of subordinates turned back alone towards Germany. Others took refuge within the walls of the allied cities.
Some months after the Legnano defeat, Red Beard returned to his land. He was followed by some of his faithful knights. During the journey towards his capital he stopped at the Sandmoos castle, held by the administrator Sigmund, who had followed the Emperor to Legnano and who had returned home before him.
Horns and trumpets were sounding while Friedrich was coming towards his castle. The administrator was waiting on the bridge on one knee. He was a rough man, squat and stocky with a fat, cruel face. He was bowed waiting for the Emperor and looked furtively towards him when he was coming over the castle's bridge and when he dismounted from his horse, walked slowly over.
"Welcome to my castle, Great Emperor!" the superintendent said. "Welcome, O Caesar! We were already crying over your death." "It is not yet time to die," Friedrich replied and walked further. Later there was a big banquet, during which no one smiled and few people talked. In order not to offend the Emperor about the still burning defeat, no one talked about the war in Italy. But it was the Emperor himself who, at the end of the banquet, raised a goblet and said, "A lot of our companions are not here. They have been left in Italy, they died fighting at Legnano defending our Holy crown. Therefore," he said, "we will drink this win to their memory!" But before the Emperor could drink, the administrator shouted, "We will avenge the Legnano defeat!" and everyone sprang up and shouted out a wild war cry.
"And I already, in this castle, take revenge on the Lombards every day." "What do your words mean?" asked Friedrich. Sigmund answered, "Don't you remember, my lord? Many of your warriors fell at Legnano under the Lombard archers' arrows."
"Of course," answered the Emperor. "The Lombards were very skillful and their shafts were furnished with Milanese iron heads." "Of course they were really skillful," said the administrator sadly, "and the one that was most skillful was one archer that, by himself, knocked down seven of my knights. He was at the Carroccio defense, on the right, among a group of foot soldiers." "Yes, I remember!" the Emperor said. "He also shot at me, but Walter of Rupertingen raised his shield suddenly and saved me. He was a tall young man, I remember his face. He had a black beard . . ."
"And green eyes," the administrator intervened. Friedrich looked at him putting down his goblet. "Green eyes? How could you know the color of his eyes?" With an ambiguous smile, the administrator replied, "I have seen them because that archer was captured by my men. I didn't know. And because I myself have had his eyes in my hands."
A soft whisper arose. The Emperor kept his face impassive from the administrator's cruel stare but his mood darkened. He asked slowly while he was sitting, "So, did you blind him?"
Raising his fat, strong hands, the administrator cried out, "With these hands, my lord! His arrows will never hit anybody again!" His face was now becoming pale. He added with a strange, low, mocking voice, "Aren't you glad I avenged you, my lord? That I have avenged the knights killed by the arrows?" Red Beard did not reply immediately. He picked up his goblet of wine, drank a little and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Revenge, Sigmund, I look for only on the battlefield and if I wish to punish someone I kill him, I do not blind a man because he is valiant."
Nobody moved. Nobody spoke. Some of the people at the table looked severely at Sigmund while others, embarrassed, did not life their heads from their plates. Friedrich slowly had another drink. "These your words, my lord," said the administrator after a deep breath," sound like a reproval and I was waiting," he added with a sneer, "for praise."
"Where is the blind man now?" Red Beard asked without looking at him. "I have him in a cell, but if you would like to see him," Sigmund beat his hands and approached the gaoler, "bring the blind man here." A little later, the blind archer arrived in the hall dragging the heavy chains around his ankles and waist. The guard who had brought him stopped at the big entrance, he stepped forward a few feet, stopping himself in the middle of the room. He kept his head a little raised like all blind people as if looking for a light. He had a gaunt, ashen face, with the signs of suffering from tiredness and hunger. His eyelids seemed to fold back on empty sockets. He had a rough, dirty beard but his forehead seemed to glow with indomitable pride.
Knowing he was among people, he remained still, waiting. Everyone looked at him in silence. Friedrich said with tight lips, "Chains as well? Are you so afraid of him?" "It is not for fear that I keep him in chains but for my revenge."
"Free him," the Emperor commanded, banging his right hand on the table. Immediately the chains were taken off the archer, who took a deep breath and raised his arms to the sky in a gesture of gratitude and relief. Red Beard got up slowly and approached him. He stayed there looking at the archer very intensively furrowing his brow. He asked, "Do you know who I am?" "You are the man," the blind archer relied immediately, "who ordered my chains removed. God bless you." "I am the Emperor Friedrich." The blind man wrinkled his lips, crossed his hands on his breasts and bowing his head in a sign of respect murmured, "God protect you, my lord." "God protect you? But you didn't try to protect me at Legnano!" said Friedrich. The archer replied, "At Legnano, I tried to kill you with my arrows but I wasn't able to. But we were at war then."
"Didn't you hear him, my lord?" shouted the administrator from his chair. "Did you hear him? He wanted to kill the Holy Emperor at Legnano and he is disappointed that he wasn't able to, and you, my lord, censure me for what I have done?" At Sigmund's voice, at these words, the archer trembled and, for a moment, his eyelids lifted inside the empty sockets. His hands opened and closed and his muscles flinched under the gray skin of his arms. Perhaps, hearing his cruel enemy's voice, he thought he ought to throw himself against . . . just for a moment. He bowed his head again and waited.
"I wish to tell you," Red Beard murmured, "that you were a brave soldier, a brave archer." The blind man, raising his face, replied, "I still am, my lord." There was a murmuring and Friedrich exclaimed, "Still? How can you use the bow if you can't see?" "I can still do it, I can shoot an arrow, my lord." "Of course you can," Friedrich remarked, "but you cannot hit the mark! You don't see!" "I don't see, my lord, but . . . ." At this point the archer touched his ear with his hand. "I can hear. I can shoot an arrow towards the noise and hit the thing which has made this noise. So I did at night when I saw nothing but heard the enemy's steps. And my arrows, as you know, never missed their mark."
"He's a fool!" the administrator shouted. "He lies! It's ridiculous!" Again, hearing Sigmund's voice, the blind man trembled. Again he turned his head and again he bowed it. Red Beard said, "We will see if you lie, archer. We are going to know this now. Give him a bow," he ordered, "and an arrow!" They obeyed and brought some bows and quivers full of arrows. "What kind of bow do you want? Long, short, of horn, of wood?" "This is not important, my lord. They are the same for me." "So take this." Red Beard took a bow and placed it in the blind man's hands. "And take this arrow."
When he got the bow and arrow in his hands the archer thrilled. His pallid face began to color. He closed his eyes tighter still and, taking the bow slowly, moved his lips in silent prayer. Everyone watched in silence. "Tell me what I have to shoot at, my lord," the blind man said and while speaking nocked the arrow and lowered his arms and leaned the readied bow against his leg. Red Beard made an imperious signal and people at the end of the table freed part of the room.
The administrator took his goblet and said, "Here is your target, Italian! You will hear the sound of metal and we will see if you are able to hit this goblet when it hits the ground." In silence the administrator took a few steps, going into the freed part of the room. All the knights and ladies at the banquet were in groups behind the Emperor. The blind man didn't move a single muscle. He didn't breathe.
"Are you ready?" the Emperor said. The blind man nodded. "Are you ready, Sigmund?" The administrator raised the goblet. "I'm ready," he replied. The archer didn't move. His limbs were tense like that of an animal. "Here!" the administrator shouted and threw the goblet against the wall. Suddenly the blind man raised the bow, he drew it and shot the bow like lightning. A strangled scream. The administrator staggered a few steps. He raised one hand and turned around with a terrified look. he fell to the ground dead. The archer's arrow had run through his throat.
Evening was coming down. At the southern horizon the Alps looked white against a sky which was going to be starry. On the long, windy road in the valley the friar was walking. He was leading a donkey on which was, with his head slightly raised to the wind, a blind man. The blind archer was coming back to his homeland, to the rustic village of Cernusco near Milan.
Friedrich the Emperor had been generous with him. He gave to the archer his justice back on the pierced administrator's body. He saw, in that shot from darkness, the revenging arm of God. Red Beard gave to the Cernusco archer his freedom as a prize for his bravery and skill. In addition, he gave him a donkey and ordered an old friar to take the blind man back to his country and while doing so, pray that God would not be too severe on the soul of the administrator.
(Editor's note: I treasure this story because it is so close to my own persona's story. I am a 12th century Bergamascan archer fighting in the war against Emperor Friedrich I. Bergamo is a hill town 40 kilometers north-east of Milan and was one of the founding members of the Lombard League, which took up arms to oppose Friedrich's attempt to control the Italian peninsula. — GdA)
