Of what else happened to don Quixote with the Basque and the danger in which he found himself with a mob of Yangüesans.
By this time Sancho had risen, somewhat beaten up by the servants of the friars, and had seen the battle of his master don Quixote, and had prayed to God in his heart to to make him victorious so that he might win an ínsula of which he’d make him governor, as he’d been promised. Seeing that the battle was over and that his master was going over to mount Rocinante, he went over so that he could hold his stirrup. Before his master mounted, he got down on his knees in front of him, took him by the hand, kissed it, and said to him: “If it pleases you, señor don Quixote mío, give me the government of the ínsula your grace has won in this rigorous battle. No matter how big it is, I feel able to govern it as well as anyone else has governed ínsulas in the whole world.”
To this don Quixote responded: “I want you to know, brother Sancho, that this adventure, and others like it, aren’t the kind that lead to winning ínsulas but rather are just crossroad skirmishes in which your only reward is a broken head or an ear less. Be patient, for adventures will arise from which I can make you not only a governor, but much more.”
Sancho thanked him profusely, and after he kissed his hand once again, as well as the undertunic of his mail armor, he helped him mount Rocinante, and he went back to his donkey and began to follow his master who, without saying anything else to, or taking leave of the women in the coach, took off at a brisk pace and went into a forest nearby. Sancho followed him at his donkey’s fastest trot, but Rocinante was going so fast that Sancho, seeing himself being left behind, had to shout to his master to wait for him. Don Quixote drew in Rocinante’s reins and waited for his fatigued squire to catch up, and the latter said to him as he approached: “It seems to me, señor, that the best thing to do would be to take refuge in some church, given the bad shape in which you left that fellow you fought. It’s likely that they’ll tell the Holy Brotherhood, who will arrest us. And I swear that before we get out of jail, we’ll have a very bad time of it.”
“Hush,” said don Quixote, “and where did you ever hear or read that a knight errant has been thrown in jail, no matter how many homicides he might have committed?”
“I don’t know anything about ama-sighs,” responded Sancho, “nor have I ever heard them mentioned in all my life; I only know that the Holy Brotherhood deals with those who fight in rural areas, and I don’t meddle in that other business.”
“Well, don’t worry, friend,” responded don Quixote, “I’ll save you from the hands of the Chaldeans, not to mention those of the Holy Brotherhood. But tell me, on your life, have you ever seen a braver knight than me in the whole world? Have you read in the histories about any other who was more spirited in his attack, showed more vigor in his perseverance, more skill in wielding his sword, or more dexterity in unhorsing his opponent?”
“To tell the truth,” responded Sancho, “I haven’t ever read any history like that because I can’t read or write; but I’ll venture to bet that your grace is the most daring master I’ve ever served. I only hope to God that your daring deeds won’t be paid for in the way I’ve mentioned. I beg you, though, to tend to your ear because it’s bleeding a lot. I have some bandages and ointment in my saddlebag.”
“All that would be unnecessary,” responded don Quixote, “if I’d remembered to prepare a flask of the Balm of Fierabrás, because with a single drop we’d save time and medicine.”
“What flask and what balm is that?” asked Sancho Panza.
“It’s a balm,” responded don Quixote, “the formula for which I’ve memorized, by means of which one needn’t fear death, nor worry about dying from any wound. Thus, when I make it and give it to you, when you see me cleft in two—and this frequently happens—you have only to take the part that has fallen to the ground and position it deftly, before the blood coagulates, on the other part, being careful to make sure it sits just right; then give me two gulps of the balm that I mentioned, and you’ll see me sounder than an apple.”
“If that really exists,” said Panza, “I relinquish the government of the ínsula you promised me, and I don’t want anything else for my many good services, other than for your grace to give me the formula for that wonderful elixir. I think it must be worth more than two reales per ounce anywhere in the world, and I don’t need anything else to live honorably and at my ease. But first I have to know if it costs very much to make it.”
“For less than three reales you can make a gallon and a half of it,” responded don Quixote.
“Sinner that I am!” replied Sancho. “What are you waiting for to make it and show me how?”
“Keep still, my friend,” responded don Quixote, “for I plan to reveal even greater secrets to you. For now, let’s try to make my ear feel better. It hurts me more than I’d like.”
Sancho took the bandages and ointment from his saddlebag, but when don Quixote noticed that his helmet was crushed, he thought he would lose his mind. He took his sword in his hand and raised it toward heaven, saying: “I swear to the Creator of everything, and to the four holy gospels in all their fullest meaning, to live the life of the great Marqués de Mantua when he swore to avenge the death of his nephew Valdovinos—which was «not to eat bread off a tablecloth, nor sport with his wife», and other things that, although I don’t recall them, I consider to have been stated—until I avenge completely the outrage that was done to me.”
Hearing this, Sancho said: “Listen, your grace, señor don Quixote—if the knight fulfills what he was ordered to do, which was to appear before my lady Dulcinea del Toboso, he’ll have done what was necessary, and he doesn’t deserve any more punishment unless he’s committed another crime.”
“You’ve made an excellent point,” responded don Quixote, “so I rescind the oath insofar as it concerns taking fresh vengeance on him. But I reaffirm the oath to live the life that I mentioned until I take a helmet at least as good as this one, by force from some knight. And don’t think I’m making idle threats, Sancho, since the same thing happened to Mambrino’s helmet, which cost Sacripante so dearly.”
“You can give such oaths to the devil, señor mío,” replied Sancho, “since they’re so detrimental to one’s health and so prejudicial to one’s conscience. If I’m wrong, just tell me—if we don’t come across a man in armor with a helmet for many days, what’ll we do then? Are you going to fulfill your oath in spite of so many obstacles and annoyances, such as sleeping fully dressed and not spending the night in a town and a thousand other penances in the oath of the crazy old Marqués de Mantua that you want to revive now? Look, your grace, there are no men in armor on these roads, only muleteers and cart drivers, and they not only don’t have helmets, but have probably never even heard of them in all the days of their lives.”
“You’ve been misled in this,” said don Quixote, “because we won’t have been at these crossroads two hours before we see more men in armor than those who stormed Albraca trying to rescue Angélica the Beautiful.”
“So be it,” said Sancho. “May it please God to make everything turn out fine, and may the time come when that ínsula can be won that’s costing me so dearly, and may I die right then.”
“I’ve told you, Sancho, not to worry at all. If the ínsula doesn’t work out, why, there’s the Kingdom of Denmark, or of Soliadisa, which will fit you like a ring on your finger, and even better—since because it’s not an ínsula, it should make you even happier. But let’s save this for another time. Look and see if you have anything to eat in those saddlebags, because we’ll need to go looking for a castle soon where we can put up for the night and make the balm that I mentioned. I swear to God this ear is hurting me a lot.”
“I’ve brought an onion and a bit of cheese, and some scraps of bread,” said Sancho, “but they’re hardly appropriate food for such a valiant knight as your grace.”
“How little you understand,” responded don Quixote. “I’ll have you know, Sancho, that the pride of knights errant is to not eat for a whole month, and when they do, it should be whatever is at hand. This would be obvious to you if you had read as many histories as I have. Among the great number of them I’ve read, I haven’t found it said that knights ate, except at sumptuous banquets given in their honor—and the rest of the time they practically fasted. Although it’s understood that they couldn’t go without eating, or without doing all the other natural functions—because they were in fact men like us—you have to understand also that, spending most of their lives in forests and the wilderness, without a cook, their most usual fare would be rustic food such as what you’re offering me now. So, Sancho, my friend, don’t be distressed thinking about what pleases me, nor try to make the world over, nor knock knight-errantry off its hinges.”
“Pardon me, your grace,” said Sancho, “since I don’t know how to read or write, as I’ve said before, I don’t know whether I understand all the rules of the profession of chivalry; from now on I’ll have plenty of dried fruits and nuts in my saddlebag for your grace, since you’re a knight; and for me, since I’m not one, I’ll take poultry and more substantial things for myself.”
“I don’t say, Sancho,” replied don Quixote, “that knights errant have to limit themselves to eating these fruits and nuts you mentioned; that was just their ordinary sustenance, as well as some herbs that they knew about—as I do—that are found in the countryside.”
“It’s a good thing,” responded Sancho, “to know about those herbs, since, the way I look at it, one day we might have to use that knowledge.”
And taking out what he had, the two ate in good fellowship and company. But since they wanted to look for a place to stay, they ate their scanty and dry dinner quickly. They got back on their mounts and hurried to get to a town before dark, but the sun went down—along with the hope of finding what they wanted—near some huts belonging to goatherds, so they decided to spend the night there. As much as it caused grief to Sancho, it gave gladness to his master to sleep in the open air, since it seemed to him that everything that happened to him tended to confirm his knighthood.