Don Quixote of the Mancha, Retold by Judge Parry

by Sir Edward Abbott Parry; Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra

At this Don Quixote put himself between them, and entreated the Guard not to use him hardly, seeing that it was not much that one who carried his hands so tied should have his tongue free.

Then turning himself towards the slaves he said: 'I have gathered from all you have said, dear brethren, that although they punish you for your faults, yet the pains you suffer do not please you, and that you march towards them with a very ill will. All this prompts me to do that for you, for which I was sent into the world, and for which I became a Knight Errant, and to which end I vowed at all times to succour the poor and help those that are oppressed. But as it is prudent not to do by foul means what can be done by fair, I will entreat these gentlemen your guardians that they will unloose you and let you depart in peace, for it seems to me a harsh thing to make slaves of those who are born free.' And turning to the guards he continued: 'These things I ask of you in a peaceable and quiet manner, and if you grant my request I shall give you my thanks; but if you will not do it willingly, then shall this lance and sword of mine, guided by the invincible valour of mine arm, force you to do my will.'

'This is pretty fooling,' replied the Guard. 'Would you have us release to you those the King has imprisoned? Go your way, good Sir, settle the basin on your head more straightly, and study to find out, if you have wits enough, how many feet a cat has.'

'You are a cat and a rat and a knave!' said Don Quixote in a rage. And without a word he set on him so fiercely, and without giving him time to defend himself, that he struck him to the earth badly wounded with his lance. Luckily for the Knight this was the Guard that had the firelock.

At first the other guards stood astounded at this unexpected event. Then they recovered themselves, and the horsemen drew their swords, the footmen grasped their javelins, and all of them attacked Don Quixote, who quietly prepared to receive them. No doubt he would have been in some danger, but the slaves, seeing a chance of liberty, broke the chain by which they were linked together. The hurly-burly was such that the guards first ran to prevent the slaves getting free, then to defend themselves from Don Quixote who attacked them, so that they could do nothing to any purpose to keep their prisoners. Sancho, for his part, helped to loose Gines of Passamonte, who was the first to leap into the field free from all fetters, and setting upon the other overthrown guard, he took his sword and firelock from him. With the latter in his hand, by pointing it at one and aiming it at the other, he cleared the field of all the guards, who were the more easily got rid of because the galley slaves were now all at liberty, and showered at their late keepers volleys of stones.

When their victory was complete, Don Quixote called all the slaves together, and they gathered round to hear what he commanded, when he spoke to them as follows: 'It is the duty of well-bred people to be grateful for benefits received, and ingratitude is one of the worst of sins. I say this, Sirs, because you know what good you have received at my hand, and the only reward I ask, is that you all go from here laden with the chains from which I have just freed your necks to the City of Toboso, and there present yourselves before the Lady Dulcinea of Toboso, and tell her that her Knight of the Rueful Countenance sends you there to do her service. Relate unto her the way in which I won your freedom; and this being done, you may then go your ways.'

Gines answered for all the rest, saying: 'That which you demand is impossible to perform, because we must not travel the roads together, but go alone and divided, to the end that we be not captured again by the guards of the Holy Brotherhood, who will make search for us. To tell us to go to Toboso is as absurd as to seek for pears on an elm-tree, and we shall not do it.'

At this Don Quixote was mightily enraged, and said: 'I tell thee, Don Gines, or whatever thy name is, that after what thou hast said thou shalt go thyself alone, with thy tail between thy legs and bearing the whole length of the chains with thee.'

Gines, who was a violent fellow, and quite understood that Don Quixote was not very wise, seeing the foolish way in which he had set them at liberty, would not stand this abuse, and winked at his companions, who, stepping aside, sent such a shower of stones against Don Quixote that he had not time to cover himself with his shield, and poor Rozinante was in such terror that he would not move forward to the attack. Sancho ran behind his Ass, and by this means sheltered himself from the tempest of stones that rained on both of them. Several stones struck Don Quixote on the body with such force that at last he fell from his horse and on to the ground, and no sooner was he fallen than Gines leaped upon him, and, taking the basin from his head, gave him three or four blows with it on the shoulders, and afterwards struck it on the ground so as to break it into pieces. They then stripped him of a tunic he wore over his armour, and would have taken his stockings if they could have got them from under his armour. From Sancho they took his coat, leaving him in his shirt sleeves, and, dividing the spoils of battle among themselves, they made the best of their way off, each one as it pleased him, with no further thought of their benefactor or his Lady Dulcinea of Toboso.