{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_75339/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_75339","id":"gutenberg_75339","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/75339","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Adventure","Category: Historical Novels","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Charlemagne, Emperor, 742-814 -- Legends"],"text":"[Frontispiece: OLIVER AND FIERABRAS.]\n\n\n\n\n  STORIES\n  OF CHARLEMAGNE\n\n  AND THE TWELVE PEERS OF FRANCE\n\n  _FROM THE OLD ROMANCES_\n\n\n\n  By the\n\n  REV. A. J. CHURCH, M.A.\n\n  Formerly Professor of Latin in University College, London\n  Author of \"Stories from Homer,\" etc.\n\n\n\n  With Illustrations by\n  GEORGE MORROW\n\n\n\n  LONDON\n  SEELEY AND CO. LIMITED\n  38, GREAT RUSSELL STREET\n  1902\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE\n\nI have endeavoured to tell in this volume the story of Charlemagne,\nthe Charlemagne, it must be understood, not of history, but of\nRomance.  The two personages are curiously different.  Each writer of\na romance had naturally a hero of his own.  As he had to exalt this\nhero, he could hardly help depreciating the king.  Charlemagne\nsuffers by comparison with Roland and Reynaud very much as, in the\nIliad, Agamemnon, the overlord of the Greeks, suffers by comparison\nwith the subordinate King, Achilles.  The real Charlemagne was a very\ngreat personality, one that impressed his age as deeply as any man\nhas ever done; in these stories he often appears petty, capricious,\nand obstinate.  Then the romance writers were Frenchmen, and they\nmake the great king a Frenchman, holding his court in Paris, and\nsurrounded by great French lords.  They began to write when the air\nwas full of the crusading spirit, and their work is coloured\naccordingly.  The enemy is always a Saracen or a follower of Mahomet.\nThere could not be a more curious instance of this than is to be\nfound in the story of the death of Roland.  In the romance\nCharlemagne's rearguard is destroyed by an overpowering force of\nSaracens.  What really happened was that it was attacked, probably\nfor the sake of plundering the baggage, by a gathering of\nmountaineers, who are called Gascons by the chroniclers, but were, in\nfact, Basques.  Then, again, we find the romance writers in sympathy\nwith the great feudatories, indicating the time before the French\nmonarchy had become consolidated, when the king at Paris had all that\nhe could do to hold his own against his powerful vassals, the Dukes\nof Brittany and Burgundy, and the English king.\n\nThe Charlemagne romances, as translated by Lord Berners and William\nCaxton, occupy twelve volumes in the Extra Series of the Early\nEnglish Text Society.  Some of these are variants of the same story.\nThere is a romance of \"Ferumbras,\" for instance, which gives\nsubstantially the same tale as that which occupies eleven chapters in\nthis volume.  \"Huon of Bordeaux,\" again, fills four volumes in the\nExtra Series.  But the original _chanson_ is contained in one of the\nfour and is complete in itself.  This, too, I have considerably\ncompressed and shortened.  The same process has had to be applied to\nall before they could be made acceptable to the readers of to-day.  I\nhope that they have not lost their life and colour and human interest.\n\nThe stories of which I have made use are \"The Four Sons of Aymon\"\n(i.-xi.); \"Ralph the Collier\" (xii.-xiii.), a genuinely English\nproduction, it would seem, as no French original has been found;\n\"Fierabras,\" taken from the \"Lyf of Charles the Grete\" (xiv.-xxiv.);\n\"The Song of Roland\" (xxv.-xxxv.), and \"Duke Huon of Bordeaux\"\n(xxxvi.-xl.).  This has been put last in order, as it represents\nCharlemagne grown old and weary of power.  The death of the great\nKing is only mentioned as imminent in the romance which I have\nfollowed; I have added an abridged account of it from the\ncontemporary biography written by Eginhard.  The story of Huon is\npeculiarly interesting to us because it introduces the fairy King\nOberon, who was to become so important a figure in English literature.\n\nI have to express my obligations to the Introduction, written by Mr.\nSidney Lee to the first part of \"Duke Huon of Bordeaux.\"\n\nALFRED J. CHURCH.\n\nOXFORD, _July_ 17, 1902.\n\n\n\n\n  CONTENTS\n\n  CHAP.\n\n  I. THE SLAYING OF LOTHAIR\n  II. HOW THE DUKE BENES CAME BY HIS END\n  III. HOW IT FARED WITH THE BRETHREN\n  IV. THE COMING OF ROLAND\n  V. OF THE TREACHERY OF KING JOHN\n  VI. OF THE CRAFT OF MAWGIS\n  VII. MORE DEEDS OF MAWGIS\n  VIII. HOW MAWGIS BECAME A HERMIT\n  IX. OF WHAT BEFELL AT MONTALBAN\n  X. HOW PEACE WAS MADE\n  XI. OF REYNAUD'S END\n  XII. HOW RALPH ENTERTAINED THE KING\n  XIII. HOW RALPH WENT TO COURT\n  XIV. HOW FIERABRAS DEFIED KING CHARLES\n  XV. HOW OLIVER FOUGHT WITH FIERABRAS\n  XVI. HOW OLIVER AND OTHERS WERE TAKEN PRISONERS\n  XVII. HOW OLIVER AND HIS COMRADES FARED\n  XVIII. OF THE BRIDGE OF MANTRYBLE\n  XIX. OF THE DOINGS OF FLORIPAS\n  XX. OF THE DOINGS OF THE FRENCH KNIGHTS\n  XXI. OF GUY OF BURGUNDY\n  XXII. OF RICHARD OF NORMANDY\n  XXIII. HOW THE BRIDGE MANTRYBLE WAS WON\n  XXIV. OF THE END OF BALAN THE ADMIRAL\n  XXV. HOW GANELON WENT ON AN ERRAND TO KING MARSILAS\n  XXVI. THE TREASON OF GANELON\n  XXVII. OF THE PLOT AGAINST ROLAND\n  XXVIII. HOW THE HEATHEN AND THE FRENCH PREPARED FOR BATTLE\n  XXIX. THE BATTLE\n  XXX. HOW ROLAND SOUNDED HIS HORN\n  XXXI. HOW OLIVER WAS SLAIN\n  XXXII. HOW ARCHBISHOP TURPIN DIED\n  XXXIII. THE DEATH OF ROLAND\n  XXXIV. HOW CHARLEMAGNE SOUGHT VENGEANCE\n  XXXV. OF THE PUNISHMENT OF GANELON\n  XXXVI. HOW KING CHARLES SENT HUON ON AN ERRAND\n  XXXVII. HOW HUON MET WITH KING OBERON\n  XXXVIII. OF THE END OF THE FALSE DUKE MACAIRE\n  XXXIX. HOW HUON, HAVING SLAIN A GIANT, CAME TO BABYLON\n  XL. HOW HUON RETURNED, HIS ERRAND FULFILLED\n\n\n\n\nLIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS\n\nOLIVER AND FIERABRAS ... Frontispiece\n\nREYNAUD KNEELING TO ROLAND\n\nREYNAUD AND BAYARD\n\nRALPH IN THE PALACE OF CHARLEMAGNE\n\nBLOWING THE GREAT COAL\n\nTHE AMBASSADORS OF KING MARSILAS\n\nON THE FIELD OF RONCESVALLES\n\nHUON MEETING WITH OBERON\n\n\n\n\nSTORIES OF CHARLEMAGNE\n\nAND THE TWELVE PEERS OF FRANCE\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nTHE SLAYING OF LOTHAIR\n\nKing Charles held a great court in his capital city of Paris at the\nFeast of Pentecost.  Thither came the Twelve Peers of France, and\nmany other men of note, besides strangers from Germany, England, and\nother realms.  One of the chief of the Frenchmen was Aymon, Duke of\nArdennes, who brought with him his four sons, to wit, Reynaud, Alard,\nGuichard, and Richard.  All these four were marvellously fair, witty,\nand valiant; but the fairest, wittiest, and most valiant was Reynaud,\nthe eldest born.  There was not in the world a man of so great\nstrength and stature.  It is of him and his brothers that this tale\nis told.\n\nKing Charles stood up, and said, \"Brethren and friends, you know that\nby your help I have conquered many lands, and brought many pagans to\nconfess the Christian faith.  You know also that this has not been\ndone without grievous loss on our part, and verily had not been done\nat all but for succour that we looked not for.  But the succour that\nwe looked for, that we had not, and notably from Duke Benes of\nAygremont.  This, then, is my purpose.  I will send to Duke Benes,\nbidding him attend me this summer.  And if he will not come, then I\nwill besiege him in his town of Aygremont.  And when he shall come\ninto my hands, I will hang him, and slay his son Mawgis, and cause\nthat discourteous woman, his wife, to be burnt with fire.\"\n\nDuke Naymes said, \"Be not so hot, my lord King.  Send a message to\nthe Duke by some prudent man, and when you shall have received his\nanswer, then take counsel what you shall do.\"\n\n\"That is good counsel,\" said the King.  But when he called for a\nmessenger, no man answered, for many were of the Duke's kindred.\nThen he called his eldest son Lothair, and said to him, \"Go to this\nDuke, and bid him come to me with his men-at-arms by mid-summer next,\nor else I will besiege his city of Aygremont.\"\n\nThe next day Lothair departed, having a hundred knights with him,\narmed for battle.  As they went they uttered many threatenings\nagainst the Duke, if he should not submit himself to the King.\n\nIt so chanced that a spy heard them talk in this fashion, and, making\nall haste, came to the Duke and told him.  \"There come messengers,\"\nhe said, \"from King Charles, threatening terrible things, and the\nKing's own son is with them.\"  Then the Duke asked his lords what he\nshould do.  One of them, Sir Simon by name, a good man and a wise,\nsaid to him, \"Receive the King's messengers honourably.  It is not\nwell for a man, how great soever he be, to fight against his\nsovereign lord.  Many of your kinsmen have so dared, yet do not you.\"\nSaid the Duke, \"I am not fallen so low that I should follow such\ncounsel.  Have I not three brothers, princes all of them, that will\nhelp me against the King, and four nephews also, sons of Aymon, that\nare stout and valiant men?\"  So he would not listen to Sir Simon; no,\nnor yet to his wife the Duchess, though she was urgent with him to\nspeak peaceably to the King's messengers.\n\nBy this time Lothair and his knights were come to the town of\nAygremont.  The Prince said, \"See what a fortress is there!  How\nstrong are the walls!  See, too, the river running at their base.\nThere is no stronger place in Christendom.  It cannot be taken by\nforce, but haply by famishing it may be taken.\"  One of his knights\nsaid to him, \"My lord, you say true.  This is a mighty prince, and he\nhas a strong castle.  It would be well if you could make him to be of\ngood accord with your father.\"  \"You speak well,\" answered Lothair,\n\"nevertheless if the Duke shall say anything that shall displease us,\nhe shall be sorry therefor.\"  But the knight said softly to himself,\n\"This is foolishness, and we shall pay for it with our lives.\"\n\nSo Lothair and his men came to the castle, and knocked at the gate.\n\"Who are you?\" said the porter.  \"We be friends,\" answered Lothair,\n\"and we bring a message from the King.\"  \"Wait awhile,\" said the\nporter, \"till I tell the Duke.\"  So the porter went to the Duke and\nsaid, \"There are come hither a hundred knights, with the King's\neldest son at their head.  Shall I open the gate?\"  \"Open it,\" said\nthe Duke, \"we can hold our own, yea though the King himself should\ncome with all his men.\"  So the porter hasted to open the gate.  But\nthe Duke said to his lords, \"Here comes the King's eldest son; if he\nspeak wisely to us, wisely will we answer him; but if not, he shall\nnot go free.\"\n\nThen Lothair and his knights were brought into the hall, where the\nDuke sat among his lords, having the Duchess his wife by him and\nbefore him his son Mawgis.  Now Mawgis was a great wizard.\n\nLothair said, \"God keep King Charles and confound Duke Benes!  My\nfather says, 'Come to Paris with five hundred knights, and make good\nyour want of service in the parts of Lombardy, where, for lack of\nyour help, many valiant men came by their death.  But if you fail in\nthis thing, you shall surely be hanged, your wife burned with fire,\nand all your house destroyed.'\"\n\nThen might any one have seen the Duke change colour for anger.  When\nhe could speak, he said, \"I will not go to the King.  I hold of him\nneither land nor fortress; or rather I will go and waste his land\ntill I come to Paris itself.\"\n\n\"Dare you so speak?\" cried Prince Lothair, in a loud voice.  \"You\nknow well that you are the King's man.  I counsel you to do his\nbidding.  Else you shall be hanged till the winds of heaven dry your\nbones.\"\n\nWhen the Duke heard this he stood up on his feet in a great rage,\ncrying to Lothair that it was an evil day for him on which he came to\nthe town of Aygremont.  Not a word of counsel would he take, when\nsome of his knights would put him in mind of the King's might, and of\nhow he was in truth the King's man, holding of him this very town of\nAygremont.  \"Hold your peace!\" he cried.  \"Never will I consent to\nhold aught of this man so long as I can mount a horse or hold a\nspear.\"  And he called upon his lords to lay hold on Lothair, and\nthey durst not disobey him, but ran upon Lothair and the rest of King\nCharles's men.  Then began as sore a battle as was ever fought in\nthis world.  For not only did the Duke's men that were within the\npalace assail the Frenchmen, but the inhabitants of the town, both\nmerchants and craftsmen, hearing the uproar, beset the gates.  These\ngates, indeed, the Frenchmen kept with great courage; but they were\nfew in number, and the day went sorely against them.  In the end,\nafter that Prince Lothair had been slain by the Duke himself, there\nremained but ten of the hundred knights alive.  These the Duke\nspared, on this condition, that they should carry his message to the\nKing, and the message was this: \"I will do no homage for my land, nor\npay one penny of tribute.  Rather I will come with forty thousand\nmen, and waste your land, and burn your fair city of Paris.\"  After\nthis he delivered to them the body of Lothair, laying it in a cart\ndrawn by two horses.  And when the ten knights were quit of the town,\nand were come into the fields, they began to weep and lament, not for\nLothair only, but also for themselves, for they feared the King.  So\nthey went on their way to Paris.\n\nMeanwhile King Charles at Paris was not a little troubled.  \"I fear\nme much,\" he said to his lords, \"lest some evil have befallen my son,\nfor this Duke Benes is a savage man and a cruel.\"  Then answered the\nDuke Aymon, \"If the Duke shall do you any wrong, I will help you with\nall my heart.  Here also are my four sons who will go with me.\"\n\"That is well spoken,\" said the King.  \"Bring your sons hither.\"  So\nthe Duke brought them, and the King, when he saw them, loved them\nall, but Reynaud, who was the eldest, more than the other three.  He\nsaid to his steward, \"Bring hither the arms of King Certes, whom I\nslew at Pampeluna, and put them on him.\"  And Ogier the Dane bound on\nhis spurs, and the King himself girded him with his sword.  This\ndone, he dubbed him knight, saying, \"God increase thee in goodness,\nhonour, and worthiness!\"\n\nReynaud, it should be known, had a very noble horse, Bayard by name,\nthat had been given him by his cousin Mawgis.  Never was there such a\nhorse in the world, save only Bucephalus, that was the horse of\nAlexander of Macedon.  When he was mounted on him he seemed such a\nknight as could scarce be matched in France or any other land.  When\nthey jousted in the lists, for the King held a tournament at St.\nVictor that was near to Paris, not one did so well as Reynaud.\n\nThe tournament being ended, the King returned to his palace in Paris.\nThe next morning he said to his lords, Ogier the Dane, and the Duke\nNaymes and Turpin the Archbishop, \"I am in fear for my son Lothair;\nhe tarries long on this journey.  I dreamed also last night that the\nDuke Benes had slain him.\"  The Duke Naymes said, \"Put no trust in\ndreams, for they are naught.\"  The King answered, \"Nevertheless, if\nthe Duke have done this thing, he shall die.\"\n\nWhile they were yet speaking, there came a messenger upon a horse,\nfaint and weary and sorely wounded, and the King saw him pass the\nwindow where he stood.  Then the King ran lightly down to the gate,\nhis lords following him.  When the messenger saw the King he saluted\nhim in a low voice, and told him all that had befallen.  And when he\nhad ended his words, he fell to the ground in a swoon for grief and\nthe pain of his wounds.\n\nGreat was the King's sorrow.  He wrung his hands and tore his beard\nand his hair.  His lords sought to comfort him, and Duke Naymes said,\n\"Now bury your son with great honour at St. Germaine's, and when you\nhave done this, gather together your army, and march against this\nDuke Benes.\"\n\nThen the King and his lords rode forth from Paris, and when they had\ngone the space of two miles, they met the cart wherein was the body\nof Prince Lothair.  And when the King saw the cart, he lighted down\nfrom his horse, and lifted the cloth that was upon the dead man.  And\nwhen he saw how the head was severed from the body and the face sore\ndisfigured with wounds he cried aloud.  And he said, \"Oh, Lothair, my\nson, you were a fair and gentle knight.  May God of His mercy receive\nyou into Paradise!\"  Then his lords bore him up on one side and the\nother, and brought him to St. Germaine's.  There they buried Prince\nLothair with all honour.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nHOW THE DUKE BENES CAME BY HIS END\n\nDuke Aymon said to his sons, \"We do ill to tarry here.  The King is\nvery wroth and not without cause, with your uncle Duke Benes, and\nwill wage war against him, in which matter he will of a certainty ask\nyour help.  But we cannot fight against our own kinsfolk.  Let us\ntherefore depart to our own country.\"\n\nSo the Duke and his four sons departed, and came to the land of\nArdennes.  The Duchess was right glad to see them.  Nevertheless,\nwhen she was aware of the reason of their coming she was greatly\ntroubled.  To the Duke Aymon she said, \"My lord, you have done ill to\nleave the King without license given, for he is your natural lord,\nand you have received much good at his hands.  You have brought away\nyour sons also, whom he has of his goodness promoted to the order of\nknighthood.  This was not well.\"  \"Lady,\" said the Duke, \"we left the\nKing because my brother Benes had slain the Prince Lothair, and we\nare afraid.\"  \"For all that,\" answered the Duchess, \"do you serve the\nKing and obey him, for to do so becomes a true man.\"  Then said the\nDuke, \"I would lose my castle and the half of my land, if only my\nbrother Benes had not slain the Prince Lothair.\"\n\nIn the meanwhile the King was greatly troubled, not only by the death\nof his son, but also by the departure of Duke Aymon and his sons.\n\"See,\" said he, \"how these men whom I promoted to great honour have\nbetrayed me.  Verily, if I lay hands on them they shall die.  But\nfirst I must punish this villain Duke Benes.  I will make war on him\nthis very summer.  In the meanwhile they that desire so to do may go\nto their own homes, but let all be here on Midsummer Day.\"\n\nTidings of these things came to the Duke Benes, and he sent to his\nbrethren, Gerard and Bron, that they should come to his help.  These\ncame with many men, so that the Duke had now a very great army.  So,\nhaving great confidence in his strength, he set out for Troyes in the\nregion of Champagne.\n\nMeanwhile, there came to the King at Paris Duke Richard of Normandy,\nwith thirty thousand men, and also the Earl Guy of Heron, and the\nDuke of Brittany; also many other lords and knights from Gascony,\nBurgundy, Flanders, and other parts.  These all pitched their tents\nin the meadows of St. Germain.\n\nWhen all things had been prepared, the King and his army set out, his\npurpose being to besiege the town of Aygremont.  When they had\nmarched many days, there came to Ogier the Dane, who led the van of\nthe army, a messenger riding in hot haste.  He asked, \"Whose is this\narmy?\"  When they told him it was the army of King Charles, he said,\n\"I would fain speak with the King.\"  So they brought him to the King,\nand he delivered his message, which was from Aubrey, lord of Troyes,\nand to this effect; that Duke Benes and his two brothers had come up\nagainst the town of Troyes with a very great host, and would most\ncertainly take it unless the King should come to his help.  When the\nKing heard this he commanded that the army should leave marching to\nAygremont, and should turn aside to Troyes.  And this was done, and\nin no long time the King and his army came to a place from which they\ncould see the town of Troyes.\n\nWhen Gerard of Roussillon, that was brother to Duke Benes, heard that\nthe King was now near at hand, he said to the Duke, \"Let us go\nwithout delay against the King.\"  This saying pleased the others, and\nthey rode till they saw the King's army.  And Gerard rode forth\nbefore his men, crying, \"Roussillon!  Roussillon!\"  On the other\nhand, Ogier the Dane rode out from the King's army, his spear in\nrest, and smote a knight, Ponson by name, so that he fell dead upon\nthe earth.  Meanwhile Gerard slew one of Ogier's knights.  So the\nbattle waxed fiercer and fiercer.  Duke Benes, charging at his\nhorse's utmost speed, overthrew the Lord of St. Quintin.  On the\nother side, Duke Richard of Normandy did many valiant deeds, slaying,\namong others, a certain knight that was Gerard's nearest friend.  \"I\nshall have no peace,\" said Gerard, \"till I have avenged my friend,\"\nand he put his spear in rest and would have charged at Duke Richard.\nBut his brother Bron said to him, \"Have a care; here comes King\nCharles with all his men; if we abide his coming in this place it\nwill go ill with us.\"  While he was speaking a certain knight in the\ncompany of Duke Richard slew Gerard's nephew before his face.  Then\nGerard sent a message to Duke Benes that he was in a great strait,\nand must have help forthwith.\n\nWhen the Duke Benes heard this, he made haste to come, bringing a\ngreat company with him, and the battle grew yet more fierce.  After a\nwhile Duke Richard of Normandy rode at Duke Benes, piercing his\nshield with his spear, and bruising him sorely on the body.  Also\ndrawing his sword he smote the Duke's horse so stoutly that it fell\ndead.  But the Duke himself sprang lightly from the ground, and\nfought right valiantly on foot, slaying sundry of those who thought\nto take him alive.  And anon his men brought to him another horse.\nAnd still the battle grew fiercer and fiercer.\n\nThen came King Charles himself, his spear in rest, and smote Gerard\non the shield so strongly that he overthrew both man and horse.  Then\nhad Gerard perished but for his two brothers Benes and Bron, who with\nno small trouble drew him out of the press.  This indeed they did,\nbut the battle went against the men of Aygremont.  Right glad were\nthey when the sun set, and this was about Compline time,[1] for the\ndays were now long.\n\n\n[1] Compline was the last of the services of the day.  Vespers would\ncorrespond to our Evening Service, though a little earlier, as at 6\np.m.  Compline came at some varying interval after.\n\n\nWhen Duke Benes and his brothers came together after the battle they\nhad much debate as to what should be done.  Gerard counselled that\nthey should renew the battle on the morrow, but the others deemed\notherwise.  \"Nay,\" said the Duke Bron, \"we shall fare ill if we do\nthis.  My counsel is this: let us choose thirty knights, the most\nprudent that we can find.  Let them say on our behalf to King Charles\nthat we beg him to have mercy upon us, that the Duke Benes shall make\nsuch amends for the slaying of Prince Lothair as may be agreed by the\nlords of the two countries, and that hereafter we will be his true\nliegemen.\"  To this counsel the others agreed.  Forthwith they sought\nout the thirty knights, the most prudent men that they could find.\nThese, when it was day, they sent as an embassage of peace to King\nCharles.  And Gerard gave them this counsel that before they sought\naudience of the King they should seek out the Duke Naymes, and\nbeseech him to plead their cause with the King, \"for the Duke,\" said\nhe, \"is a lover of peace.\"\n\nIn due time the thirty knights, bearing despatches in their hands,\nwere brought into the presence of the King, and delivered their\nmessage to him.  When King Charles heard these words he looked at the\nmen frowningly, and in great wrath.  Then he said to him that was\ntheir chief and spokesman, a certain Sir Stephen, \"Surely, Sir\nStephen, your Duke had lost his wits when he slew my dear son\nLothair.  And now, when he says that he will be my man, does he speak\nthe truth?  What say you?\"  \"I will answer for him,\" said Sir\nStephen.  Then King Charles went with his lords into a chamber apart,\nand took counsel with them what should be done.  Then the Duke Naymes\nsaid, \"My advice is that you pardon them.  They are valiant men, and\nyou had better have them for friends than for enemies.\"\n\nThen King Charles called the thirty knights, and said to them, \"I\npardon Duke Benes and his brothers.  Only I will that he come to me\nat the Feast of St. John next ensuing, with ten thousand men well\nequipped for war.\"\n\nWhen the messengers brought back this answer the brothers greatly\nrejoiced.  Duke Gerard said, \"It is meet that we should ourselves go\nand thank the King.\"  So they put off their fine array, and went,\nhaving but a single garment apiece, and with bare feet, and four\nthousand knights went with them in the same plight.  When they came\nbefore the King he spoke to them in peaceable words, but he had anger\nin his heart, especially against Duke Benes, as will be seen\nhereafter.\n\nSome seven days before the Feast of St. John Baptist the Duke Benes\nset out from Aygremont that he might present himself according to his\npromise before King Charles.  Meanwhile the King was holding his\ncourt in Paris.  To him came one Guenes, who was his nephew, saying,\n\"Sire, Duke Benes is on his way hither with a company of knights.\nNow is the time to take vengeance on him for the murder of Prince\nLothair.\"  \"That were treachery,\" answered the King, \"for we have\ngiven our word to him.  The Duke also is a great man and has powerful\nkinsmen.\"  \"I heed not that,\" said Guenes, \"I have kinsmen also that\nare as good as he.\"  \"Certainly it were treachery,\" said the King\nagain; \"but do as you will, only mark that I do not consent thereto.\"\n\nSo Guenes departed, having four thousand men with him, and met the\nDuke and his company in the Valley of Soissons.  So soon as the Duke\nsaw him, he was aware of his evil purpose.  \"I held that the King was\na true man, but now I see that he practises treachery against me.\nNow would that I had with me Mawgis my son, and the four sons of my\nbrother Aymon.  I shall have great need of them this day.\"  And in\nthis indeed he spake truly, for there was a great battle.  The Duke\nand his knights did valiantly, but what could their valour avail\nagainst so great a multitude?  First, the Duke's horse was killed,\nand when he rose to his feet, Guenes, being mounted on a very swift\ncharger, made at him, and ran him through with a spear, so that he\nfell dead upon the plain.  When the Duke was dead there was a great\nslaughter of his knights.  Ten only were left alive, and these were\nspared upon this condition, that they should take the body of the\nDuke to his town of Aygremont, even as the body of Prince Lothair had\nbeen taken by ten of his knights to the town of Paris.  Great was the\ngrief in the town of Aygremont when the body of the Duke was taken\nthither.  But Mawgis said to the Duchess his mother, \"Have patience\nawhile, my dear mother.  The King shall pay dearly for this his\ntreachery.  And in this I know that my kinsfolk will help me.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nHOW IT FARED WITH THE BRETHREN\n\nAt Pentecost King Charles held a court at Paris to which with others\ncame Duke Aymon and his sons.  Said the King to Aymon, \"You and your\nsons are very dear to me.  Therefore I am minded to make Reynaud my\nsteward.\"  \"I thank you,\" answered the Duke; \"yet this I will say\nthat you did a grievous wrong in that you suffered my brother Benes\nto be slain, when he had a safe-conduct under your hand.\nNevertheless I forgive you.\"  \"Remember,\" said the King, \"that Benes\nslew my son Lothair.  Let us set one deed against the other, and\nspeak of them no more.\"  \"So be it,\" answered the Duke.  But his sons\nwere not so minded, for they came forth out of the company, and\nReynaud spake for them, \"Sire,\" he said, \"we are not of our father's\nmind, for we hate you with a great hatred.\"  The King, being very\nangry, cried, \"Away out of my sight, foolish boy; were it not for\nthis company I would set you so fast in prison that you should not\nmove hand or foot.\"\n\nAfter these things the whole company went to the Church to hear mass;\nand after mass they sat down to dinner, but Reynaud would not sit\ndown, so angry was he.  After dinner, Berthelot, that was nephew to\nthe King, said to Reynaud, \"Come here, play me at chess.\"  So these\ntwo sat down to play.  When they had played awhile, there arose a\ndispute between them.  So hot was the dispute that Berthelot called\nReynaud by an ill name, and smote him on the face, whereupon Reynaud,\nlifting the chess board, that was of massy gold, smote Berthelot upon\nthe head so strongly that he fell down dead.  When the King knew this\nhe cried in great wrath, \"Lay hold on this Reynaud.  By St. Denis he\nshall not go out of this place alive.\"  Then the King's knights would\nhave laid hold on him, but his brothers and kinsfolk defended him,\nand there was such a strife in the palace as had never before been\nseen.  In the end Reynaud and his brothers, with Mawgis their cousin,\nescaped out of the palace, and mounting their horses fled to\nDordogne, the King's knights following hard upon them.  As for\nReynaud he was in no peril, for his horse Bayard was as swift as the\nwind, but with the others it went hard.  Then Reynaud turned upon the\nknights that pursued and slaying four of them, gave their horses to\nthe others.  So they came safe all of them to Dordogne, where dwelt\ntheir mother the Duchess.  She, fearing greatly for their lives,\nwould have them take all her treasure, and depart.  So they departed,\nwith many tears, and coming into the forest of Ardennes built for\nthemselves a castle which they called Montanford.  A great fortress\nwas it and a strong, for it was built upon a rock and defended on all\nsides with great walls, and furnished with a great store of\nprovisions.\n\nWhen the King heard of what they had done, he required of his barons\nthat they should help him to take vengeance for his nephew Berthelot.\nThis they promised to do.  \"Only,\" said they, \"let us go to our own\nland that we may make ready.\"  To this the King consented.  So they\ndeparted and came back to Paris in due time with their men.  After\nthis the King departed and marched as quickly as he might to the\ncastle of Montanford.\n\nNow it chanced that Reynaud's three brothers were returning from the\nhunt when they saw the King's host.  \"Who are these?\" said Guichard.\nRichard, who was the youngest of the brethren, answered, \"This is the\nKing's host, for I heard it said that he was coming to take vengeance\nupon us.  But now let us show ourselves to be men.\"  So they and\ntheir companions rode to meet the vanguard of the King's army.  And\nGuichard laid his spear in rest, and charged at the Earl Guyon, who\nwas leader of the vanguard, and smote him so strongly that he fell\ndead to the ground.  Thereafter there was a fierce battle, and it\nwent hard with the King's vanguard, so that scarce one of them\nescaped.  But the three brothers got back safe into the tower, and\nwere greatly commended by Reynaud for their valour.  And now the King\nbesieged the castle.  \"I will take it,\" he said, \"by force or by\nfamine.\"  But the Duke Naymes counselled him to demand Guichard of\nhis brother.  \"If Reynaud yield him up,\" said he, \"then this matter\nshall be settled peaceably and without loss.\"  \"That is good\ncounsel,\" said the King, and he sent the Duke Naymes with Ogier the\nDane to make their demands.  But when Reynaud heard it, he was full\nof anger, and said, \"My lords, but that I love you, surely I had cut\nyou to pieces for bringing so evil a message.  Think you that I will\ndo so base a thing as to yield up my own brother?  Tell the King that\nI care not a penny for his threatenings; as for you, get you away out\nof my sight.\"  So the two peers departed with all speed, and told the\nwords of Reynaud to the King.\n\nThen the King set guards at each of the three gates of the castle,\nand the commander of the guards at the third gate was the Duke Aymon\nhimself, for, of his loyalty to the King, he made war against his own\nsons.\n\nWhen Reynaud saw the guards that the King had set at the gates, he\nsaid to his men, \"These men are worn and weary with travel, and it\nwere but small glory to overcome them now.  But when they are\nsomewhat rested, then we will set upon them.\"  And when the men heard\nhim so speak, they judged that he was a very gallant, noble knight.\n\nAfter a while, Reynaud said, \"The time is come, else the King will\nthink that we fear him.  Sound the trumpet, and we will let him see\nwhat manner of men we are.\"  So the trumpet was sounded, and Reynaud\nand his men issued from the castle gate, and the King's men on the\nother hand made themselves ready for the fight, and there was a very\nterrible battle.  Reynaud and his men suffered much that day, for\nfirst the Duke Aymon wrought great damage to his sons' army, and then\nthe Duke Fulk slew many, and the defenders of the castle had much ado\nto hold their own.  Nevertheless they did so valiantly that at the\nlast the King was fain to withdraw his men.  Nor did he do this\nwithout great damage, for Reynaud came upon the army as it retreated,\nand slew many, and took certain prisoners.  This done, the four\nbrothers went back to their castle at Montanford.\n\nBut it passed the skill of man to hold the place against such odds as\nwere brought against them.  For the King, having gathered together a\ngreat multitude of men, surrounded the castle on all sides, and kept\nit close for a year and more.  Then Reynaud sent a messenger to the\nKing, saying, \"I will surrender this fortress and myself also with my\nbrothers, if the King will promise on his part that we shall have our\nlives and goods.\"  But the King, moved by certain of his counsellors,\nwould promise no such thing.  And so for a while the matter stood;\nneither could the King win the castle, nor could the brethren go free.\n\nAfter a while there came to King Charles a certain knight, Herneger\nby name, who said, \"Sire, if you will give me this castle of\nMontanford for my own, and all the goods that are within, and the\nland about it for five miles, I will deliver to you Reynaud and his\nbrothers within the space of a month from now.\"  \"Do this,\" answered\nthe King, \"and you shall have what you ask.\"\n\nThen Herneger, after he had first disposed a thousand knights in the\nmountains round about, rode up to the castle gates and said, \"I pray\nyou to let me enter, for the King seeks my life.  I have something to\ntell Sir Reynaud that he will be right glad to hear.\"  So the porter\nopened the gate, and let Sir Herneger pass within.\n\nWhen Reynaud heard that there was a strange knight in the castle, he\ncame and inquired of his business.  Herneger said, \"The King seeks my\nlife, because I spake on your behalf.\"  \"How does the King fare?\"\nsaid Reynaud.  \"Has he good store of victuals?\"  Herneger answered,\n\"He and his army are well-nigh famished.  They will not tarry long in\nthis place, and when they depart you may get much spoil by pursuing\nthem.\"  \"That is good to hear,\" answered Reynaud.  \"If the King fail\nof his purpose this time, the opportunity will not soon come again.\"\nThen he and his brethren and Herneger the traitor sat down to supper\nand made good cheer.\n\nWhen all the knights were fast asleep, the false Herneger rose from\nhis bed and armed himself.  Then he cut the cords of the drawbridge,\nand let it fall, and he slew also the guards that kept watch on the\nwall.  When he had done this, the knights who were disposed upon the\nmountains came up, being led by Guy of Burgundy, and, finding the\ngates open, entered in and slew all that they could find.  Truly it\nhad gone ill with the four brethren that night but for the horse of\nAlard that woke them out of their sleep.  For some of the guards had\nbeen slain, and some who should have watched were drunken, and the\nbrethren had been surprised but for the loud neighing of the horse.\nWhen Reynaud saw that the enemy was within the castle, he and his\nbrethren took their places in the tower, and, when the tower was set\non fire, they took their stand in a certain pit and defended it right\nvaliantly against all the King's men.  After awhile, the other\nknights that were in the castle taking heart and coming to help them,\nthey drove out the enemy from the castle, and shut the gates and\nraised the drawbridge.  The next day Reynaud said to his brothers,\n\"So far we have done well, and have been delivered beyond all hope.\nNevertheless here we may not stay, for all our provision of food has\nbeen burnt by fire.  Let us depart, therefore, while we can.\"  So\nthey left the castle not without much sorrow.  Alard and Guichard\nwere in the vanguard with a hundred knights, and Reynaud and Richard\nbrought up the rear with all the rest of their folk.\n\nThat night they passed through the army of the King without hurt or\nhindrance.  But for many days to come they had no rest from their\nenemies, nor of all that pursued them was there one that did them\nmore damage than did Aymon their father.  At last things came to this\npass that there was no one left alive of all their followers.  Their\nhorses also were in a sore plight, for they had nothing to eat save\nonly such roots as they could find in the ground.  Nevertheless the\nhorse Bayard was plump and strong, while the others were so lean and\nweak that they could scarce stand.  A wonderful beast was he in this\nas in other things, being as well nourished by roots as other horses\nare wont to be by hay and corn.  As for the knights they were ill to\nsee, for their armour was eaten away with rust and their skins dark\nwith hunger and want.\n\nThen said Reynaud to his brothers, \"What shall we do?  As for myself\nI had sooner die as becomes a knight than perish here of hunger and\ncold.\"  Alard said, \"My counsel is that we go straight to our lady\nmother in Ardennes.  For though the King and his lords hate us, and\neven our father is set against us, yet I am persuaded that our mother\nwill not fail us.\"  \"You give good counsel,\" said Reynaud; and to\nthis the other two agreed.\n\nThat night the brethren set out, and travelling without stay came to\nthe city of Ardennes.  When they were in sight of the walls, Reynaud\nsaid to his brethren, \"We did ill to take no surety of our father,\nthat he give us not into the King's hands.\"  \"Fear not,\" answered\nRichard.  \"I am assured that our lady mother will keep us safe.\"  So\nthey entered the town.  But no man knew them, so strange were they to\nlook upon, and the townsfolk asked them, \"Of what country are you?\"\n\"You are too curious,\" answered Reynaud, and they rode to the palace.\n\nNow the Duke Aymon chanced to be hawking that day by the river, and\nthe Duchess was in her chamber, where she was wont to sit, in much\ngrief because she had no tidings of her children.  After a while she\ncame from her chamber into the hall, where the men sat, but she knew\nthem not.  Nay so black were they and foul to look upon that she was\nin no small fear of them, and was minded for a while to go back to\nher chamber.  But soon she took courage, and greeted the men, saying,\n\"Who are you, Christian men or pagans?  Maybe you are doing some\npenance.  Will you have some alms from me or clothing? methinks you\nneed them much.  Gladly will I do you this service that God also may\nhave mercy upon my own children.\"  And when she thought of her sons,\nand how she knew not whether they were alive or dead, she wept aloud.\n\nWhen Reynaud heard her weep, he was himself greatly moved, and wept\nalso.  And the Duchess looking on him more closely was not a little\ntroubled, so that she had almost fallen to the ground in a swoon.\nBut when she came to herself she looked again and lo! there was a\nscar on his face that he had from a fall when he was a child.  So she\nknew him again, and cried, \"O my son Reynaud, how comes it that you\nare so greatly changed, you that were the fairest knight in all the\nworld?\" Then she looked about her, and knew her other sons also, and\ntook them one by one in her arms, both rejoicing and lamenting.  So\nshe wept and they wept also.\n\nAnd now came a yeoman to say that the dinner was served.  So the\nDuchess and her sons went to the table, and sat down and made good\ncheer.\n\nAs they sat, the Duke came in from his hawking, and said \"Who are\nthese men that are so strange to look upon?\"  \"These are your\nchildren and mine,\" answered the Duchess.  \"See what they have\nsuffered, living in the woods.  I beseech you deal kindly with them.\"\nBut the Duke hardened his heart against his sons, because he would be\ntrue to King Charles.  And there was much dispute between them, so\nthat Reynaud had once half drawn his sword from its sheath.  Only\nAlard stayed him, \"Set not your hand against him, for that is against\nGod's commandment.\"  In the end peace was made between father and\nsons in this fashion.  Aymon said, \"I cannot abide in the house with\nthese men, for that were against my oath to King Charles.  But you,\nmy wife, have much gold and silver, and horses and harness and\narmour.  Give to your sons so much as they will take.\"  Having said\nthis, he departed from the house and his knights went with him.\n\nThen the Duchess called her sons to her.  First she commanded that\nthey should make baths ready for them.  And when they had bathed, she\ngave them rich apparel of all that they needed.  This done she showed\nthem the Duke Aymon's treasure and bade them take of it as much as\nthey needed.  Nor did they fail so to do.  For Reynaud made such\nprovision of men and arms that he gathered together a great company\nof soldiers.\n\nThe next day, just as they were about to depart, came Mawgis their\ncousin, telling of how he had taken three horses of the King, laden\nwith gold and silver.  \"And of this treasure,\" said he to Reynaud his\ncousin.  \"I am ready to give you the half.\"\n\nSo they departed together, and the Duke Aymon met them as they went,\nand gave them his blessing, and \"See,\" said he to the three, \"that\nyou obey your brother Reynaud, for he is good at counsel.\"  To the\nDuchess, when she was nigh distracted at the departure of her\nchildren, he said, \"Be not troubled over much; we shall see them come\nagain in great prosperity and honour.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nTHE COMING OF ROLAND\n\nReynaud and his brothers, with Mawgis their cousin, came in their\nriding to Poictiers, where it was told them that John, King of\nGascony was hard pressed by the Saracens.  Reynaud said to his\ncomrades, \"Let us go to the help of the King.\"  To this they\nconsented, and so coming to the city of Bordeaux were joyfully\nreceived by the King and his courtiers.\n\nNot many days after, the King of the Saracens came to Bordeaux, and\nReynaud and his comrades went forth from the city to attack him.\nThen followed a great battle, and the Saracens fled, whom Reynaud\npursued so hotly that all his friends counted him to have been slain.\nGreat, therefore, was their joy when Reynaud came back, not only safe\nand sound, but bringing with him the King of the Saracens, as\nprisoner, for he had taken him in single combat.  Thereupon, King\nJohn, holding that he could not honour too greatly so valiant a\nknight, yielded to him a fair hill whereon was a castle, and gave him\nalso his sister in marriage.  This castle Reynaud made very strong\nwith towers and the like, and called it Montalban; and for a while\nthe brothers had peace.\n\nIt befell that King Charles, going on a pilgrimage, saw this same\nhill with the castle built upon it, and much admiring, would know who\ndwelt there.  When he heard that it was the castle of the sons of\nAymon, he was very wroth, and sent an embassy, of which Ogier the\nDane was the leader, to King John, demanding that the brothers and\ntheir company should be delivered to him.  \"I will do no such thing,\"\nsaid the King.  Thereupon King Charles said to his barons, \"You see\nhow this man defies us.  Come now, we will go to Paris, and hold a\ncouncil of the whole realm, and consider how we shall deal with him.\"\n\nWhen the Council was assembled, the King stood up, and set the matter\nbefore them.  Then the Duke Naymes spake in this fashion; \"Sir, we\nare wrong in this war; let us have peace for five years; after that,\nif you are so minded, we will fight again.\"  This counsel angered the\nKing greatly, but while he doubted what he should say, there came to\nthe palace a young man, very fair, and well arrayed, with thirty\nsquires following him, and did obeisance to the King.  \"Tell me your\nname,\" said Charles.  \"Sire,\" answered the stranger, \"my name is\nRoland, and I am your nephew, being son of your sister that is\nmarried to the Duke of Milan.\"  \"You are welcome,\" said the King.\n\"To-morrow I will make you a knight and you shall make war upon these\ntraitors, the sons of Aymon.\"  \"That I will do right willingly,\"\nanswered Roland, \"seeing that Reynaud slew my cousin, Berthelot.\"\n\nOn the morrow the King made Roland a knight.  But while they sat at\nthe feast, there came a messenger saying that the city of Cologne was\nbeset of Saracens.  Said Roland to the King, \"Let me go against these\ninfidels,\" and the King answered, \"You shall go.\"  So Roland went\nwith twenty thousand men well armed and fell upon the Saracens, and\ntook from them spoils and prisoners, and overcame their King in\nsingle combat, bringing him back to Paris and delivering him to the\nKing.\n\nThe King said to Duke Naymes, \"How did Roland, my nephew, bear\nhimself in the battle?\"  \"Never did knight bear himself better,\"\nanswered the Duke, \"only he needs a horse that should carry him well\nwhen he is fully armed.  I counsel you, therefore, to make a\nproclamation that there shall be a race of all the best horses in\nyour realm, and that you will give to the horse that shall prevail\nyour crown of gold, and five hundred marks of fine silver, and a\nhundred rolls of silk.\"  \"This is good counsel,\" said the King, and\nhe caused proclamation to be made, and the lists to be set up.\n\nNow it chanced that a yeoman of Gascony, being in Paris, heard the\nproclamation, and going back to his own country told the matter to\nReynaud and Mawgis.  When Reynaud heard it, he laughed and said: \"Now\nshall the King see as good a race as ever was run in the world, for I\nwill go to Paris with Bayard and win this prize.\"  \"I will go with\nyou,\" said Mawgis, \"and your brethren also, and we will have with us\nsome knights well armed.\"\n\nSo Reynaud and his company set out, and when any one would know who\nthey were, they said that they were from Bearn, and that they were\njourneying to Paris to run their horses in the King's race.  When\nthey were now near to Paris, Mawgis, being a great magician, took a\ncertain herb that he knew, and when he had pounded it with the pommel\nof his sword, and tempered it with water, he rubbed Bayard therewith,\nso that he became all white.  And he took another herb that he knew\nand therewith caused Reynaud to look like a youth of twenty years.\nWhen the others saw Reynaud and his horse, how changed they were,\nthey laughed aloud.  Then Reynaud and Mawgis parted from them, and\nwent on alone to Paris with Bayard the horse.\n\nMeanwhile, the King had sent the Duke Naymes, and Ogier the Dane, and\nanother, with a hundred knights to keep the road from Orleans, that\nnone might pass without their knowledge.  There they abode, not a few\ndays, suffering much from hunger and thirst.  \"What do we here?\" said\nDuke Naymes.  \"Does the King hold us to be fools that he makes us\ntarry here for nothing?\"  \"You say well,\" said Ogier the Dane, \"let\nus go back.\"  But even as he spake, they were aware of two men on\nhorseback.  Said the Duke, \"That horse is Bayard, but that he is of\nanother colour.\"  When the men were near, the Duke said to them, \"Who\nare you?\"  Mawgis answered, \"My name is Sousser, and I come from\nPeron, and this is my son, but he speaks no French.\"  The Duke said\nto Reynaud, \"Man, know you anything of Reynaud, the son of Aymon?\"\nReynaud answered him with strange words that no man could understand.\n\"What devil taught thee to speak such strange French?  Maybe 'tis\nLatin, but thou art more like to a fool than to a bishop.\"  And he\nsuffered the two to pass in peace.\n\nWhen they came to Paris some ill fellow saw them, and cried in a loud\nvoice, \"This is Reynaud, son of Aymon,\" at which saying many ran\ntogether.  Thereupon the villain, growing bold, caught Bayard by the\nbridle.  But the horse smote the man on the breast with his fore\nfoot, and killed him.\n\nThen the two rode on, and took a lodging in an inn; where when they\nbedded their horses, Mawgis took a thread of silk and waxed it well\nand after bound the fore feet of Bayard.  Said the host, \"Why do you\nthis?  The horse can run but ill being so bound.  But tell me who is\nthe knight; had he more years he were like Reynaud the son of Aymon.\"\nMawgis answered, \"I bound the horse's feet because he is given to\nfighting.  As for his rider he is my son.\"  But it chanced that, not\nlong after, Mawgis named Reynaud by name, and the host heard it and\nsaid, \"This beyond all doubt is Reynaud who slew the King's nephew.\nTruly, before I sleep, I will tell the matter to the King.\"  Reynaud\nheard the man speak and straightway slew him.  Thereat there was no\nsmall outcry, but the two knights mounted on their horses, and\nmingling with the crowd, so escaped.\n\nAfter mass the King and his lords went down to a certain meadow that\nis by the river Seine, where the race should be run.  And the two\nknights went with him, but Bayard having his foot bound halted much.\nThen said one knight, \"See here the horse that will win the prize,\"\nand another said, \"Verily, he will win, if God so favour him.\"  And\nthey laughed him to scorn.\n\nWhen the trumpets sounded for the starting of the horses they all\nran.  When Mawgis saw this, he lighted from his horse and cut the\nthread of silk that was bound about Bayard's foot.  And Reynaud\nspurred his horse, saying to him, \"Bayard, we are far behind, now it\nis time for you to haste.\"  When Bayard heard his master so speak, he\nunderstood him as well as though he had been a man.  Straightway he\nheld up his head, and stretched forth his neck, and ran so fast that\nhe speedily passed all the other horses.  When the King saw this he\nsaid to Richard of Normandy, \"This white horse is marvellously swift,\nand he is like to Bayard, the horse of Reynaud, son of Aymon.\"\nReynaud, having prevailed in the race, took the crown of gold, but\nthe silver and the silk he disdained.  Then having the crown in his\nhand, he rode back to the palace where the King sat with his lords.\nThe King said to him, \"I will give you for your horse such treasure\nas will content you.\"  Reynaud answered: \"Sire, I have angered you\nmany times, and slain your men, and now I carry away your crown.\nKnow that I am Reynaud, son of Aymon.  Seek elsewhere for a horse\nthat you may give to Roland your nephew.  But Bayard you shall not\nhave.\"  So saying he spurred his horse, and rode away, and when he\nhad travelled certain miles, then came Mawgis on his black horse.  So\nthese two returned to the castle of Montalban, and were received with\ngreat joy.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nOF THE TREACHERY OF KING JOHN\n\nKing Charles said to his knights and barons, \"See now how this\nvillain Reynaud has deceived me, and carried away my crown.  Devise\nsome means by which I may recover that which I have lost.\"  \"You must\nbesiege,\" said the Duke Naymes, \"his castle of Montalban.\"  So the\nKing gathered together a great army, so great indeed that provisions\nfailed them.  After Easter he set out from Paris, and in due time\ncame to Reynaud's castle, Montalban.\n\nThe King had made Roland captain of his host.  When Roland therefore\nsaw the castle, he being even overbold, said to the King, \"Let us\nassault this place without delay.\"  But the King answered, \"Not so,\nwe will first try them, whether they will yield up the place\npeaceably.\"  He sent therefore a messenger who should say to Reynaud,\n\"The King bids you yield up your castle and also your brother\nRichard.  If you refuse he will take it by force, and hang up both\nyou and him.\"  Reynaud answered, \"I am not one that betrays friends.\nBut if the King will assure to us our lives and our castle we will\nyield ourselves to him.\"  To this the King would not consent.\nTherefore he besieged the place meaning to reduce it by famine, for\nhe perceived that it could not be taken by force.\n\nIt fell on a certain day that Roland, seeing that there were many\nbirds by the river, was minded to go hawking.  So he went with Oliver\nhis comrade (this Oliver was a very noble knight, and a close friend\nto Roland) and a company of knights, the bravest of the host.  This\nwas seen by a certain spy, who told it to Reynaud and Mawgis.  Mawgis\nsaid, \"Cousin, you will do well to attack the King's host, for they\nare not thinking of battle.\"  So these two issued forth from the\ncastle and four thousand knights with them.\n\nTurpin the Archbishop[1] was in charge of the King's host.  When he\nsaw the enemy come forth from the castle, he was not a little\ntroubled.  First he called to Ogier the Dane that he should arm\nhimself, and afterwards to the other barons and knights that they\nshould make ready for battle.\n\n\n[1] The real Turpin was, it would seem, Tilpin, Archbishop of Rheims\nfrom 754 to 794.  We do not know that Tilpin was a warrior, but his\npredecessor, Milo by name, is said to have been a \"warrior clerk,\"\nand as such to have been put into the archbishopric by Charles Martel.\n\n\nFirst Reynaud slew a certain knight of the King's army.  When Turpin\nthe Archbishop saw this he spurred his horse against Reynaud.  The\ntwo met with so great force that the spears of both were broken in\npieces; but Reynaud being the quicker to draw his sword dealt the\nArchbishop so grievous a blow that both he and his horse were\nwell-nigh brought to the ground.  Then cried Reynaud, \"Father, are\nyou that Turpin that boasts himself so much?  By my faith you were\nbetter singing mass in some church than fighting with me.\"  The\nArchbishop was much angered at these words, and made at Reynaud with\nall his might.  But neither he nor Ogier the Dane nor any one of the\nKing's men could hold their ground that day against the sons of\nAymon.  And when Mawgis and his knights came forth from the wood\nwhere they lay in ambush, and assailed the King's host on the flank,\nthen the Frenchmen fled, not without great loss, especially at the\ncrossing of the river.  The knights from Montalban pursued them for a\nmile or so, and Mawgis took the golden dragon that was on Roland's\ntent (for Roland had not yet come back from hawking) and set it on\nthe great tower of Montalban, so that all men might see it.  When the\nKing saw it he said, \"Now has Roland taken the fortress of these\nvillains.\"  But when he knew the truth, he was well-nigh beside\nhimself with rage.\n\nMeanwhile King John was not a little troubled in mind.  For he said\nto himself, \"How will these things end?  These five knights, for all\nthat they are brave warriors, cannot always prevail against the power\nof the King.\"  So he called his barons to a council, and demanded\ntheir advice.  One said one thing, and another another, but the\ngreater part had little love for Reynaud.  Of these a certain old man\nthat was called Earl Antony was the spokesman.  He said, \"I know this\nReynaud, of how haughty a temper he is.  His father had but a single\ntown, and now he holds himself so high that he disdains to be the\nKing's man.  And now you have nourished his pride, giving him your\nsister to wife.  And the end will be that he will take your kingdom\nfrom you, and have it for himself.  If you would save yourself from\nsuch dishonour, deliver him and his brethren to the King.\"\n\nWhen King John saw that this counsel pleased the greater part of his\nbarons, he was much troubled in mind, and wept for grief and shame.\nNevertheless he called his secretary to him, and said, \"Now write to\nthe King and say that, if he will leave wasting my land, I will\npresently deliver to him the sons of Aymon and Mawgis their cousin.\nIf he will send to Vancouleurs, there he will find them, clothed with\nmantles of scarlet trimmed with fur, and riding upon mules.\"  So the\nsecretary wrote according to these words in a letter, and gave the\nletter to a knight that he might take it to King Charles.  When the\nKing had read the letter, he was very glad.  And he delivered to the\nmessenger of the King a letter wherein he had written what it was in\nhis mind to do, namely, to send Ogier the Dane with a company of\nknights who should take the brethren prisoner.  Also he sent from his\ntreasury four mantles of scarlet, trimmed with fur.\n\nWhen King John had received the letter with the mantles, he commanded\na hundred knights to make themselves ready to ride with him to the\nCastle of Montalban.  When he was come to the castle his sister came\nforth to greet him, but when she would have kissed him, as her custom\nwas, he turned his face aside, saying, \"Pardon me, my sister, I have\nan ill tooth that troubles me sore.\"  Not long after the brethren\ncame back to the castle, and when they heard that the King was there,\nthey took each his horn and sounded a welcome.  When the King heard\nthe sound, he thought no little shame of himself, yet did not turn\nfrom his purpose.  When he saw the brethren, he said to them, \"I have\nspoken for you to King Charles, and he has promised that if you will\ngo to the plain of Vancouleurs riding on mules, clad in scarlet\nmantles which I will presently give you, with flowers in your hands\nand without arms, he will make peace with you.  For as soon as you\nshall cast yourselves at his feet, he will pardon you and give you\nagain your lands.\"\n\nThere was not a little debate among the brethren on this matter, for\nReynaud was minded to go, but the others were unwilling.  The wife of\nReynaud also was set against the journey, telling him of a terrible\ndream that she had dreamed.  \"I saw,\" she said, \"a thousand wild\nboars come out of the forest of Ardennes.  These fell upon you, and\nrent your body in pieces.  I saw how Alard was slain by an arrow by\nFrenchmen, and how Richard was hanged on an apple tree.\"  \"Hold your\npeace,\" said Reynaud.  \"He that puts his trust in dreams has but\nlittle faith in God.  Think you that your brother will betray us?\nDoes he not send eight of his chief barons with us for surety.\"  To\nhis brethren he said, \"If you are fearful then will I go alone.\"\n\nSo the four went their way to Vancouleurs, not without fears, for\nReynaud himself doubted to what the matter might grow.  Now the plain\nof Vancouleurs was a solitary place, where four ways met, with\nforests on every side, in which forests, by command of the King, many\nhundreds of knights lay in ambush, ready to issue forth and fall upon\nthe brethren.  Of these knights Ogier the Dane was the chief, and was\nnot a little in doubt how he should bear him, for on the one hand he\nwas near of kin to the brethren, and on the other he was bound in\nduty to perform the command of the King.  Sometimes he was inclined\none way, and sometimes another.  First he suffered the brethren to\npass unharmed when he might have taken them at a disadvantage in a\nnarrow road; afterwards, when they were in the plain, he himself led\nhis knights against them.\n\nWhen the brethren found that a great treachery had been practised\nupon them, they prepared to defend themselves, having first confessed\ntheir sins to each other, for lack of a priest to whom they might\nconfess.  Great deeds did they that day, but not without suffering\nmany things.  First Guichard was taken prisoner by the King's men and\nbound upon a horse.  Yet Reynaud delivered him from captivity.  Then\nRichard was grievously wounded by Gerard Lord of Valence, and came\nvery near to death, but him also Reynaud, than whom there was never\ngreater fighter in the world, rescued before it was too late.  And\nindeed it was in Richard's counsel that the brethren found\ndeliverance.  For when he opened his eyes, having before been in a\nswoon, and saw Reynaud, he said to him, \"See you that rock yonder\nthat is so high and strong?  If we can win thither, we shall be safe\nfrom our enemies, at least for one while.  Nor do I doubt that\nMawgis, who knows things that are hidden from other men, knows in\nwhat plight we are, and will bring us help presently.\"\n\nAnd Alard lifted Richard from the earth, and laid him upon his\nshield, and carried him to the rock, Reynaud and Guichard holding\nback meanwhile the King's men with such strength and valour as have\nnever been surpassed, for they fought as men who have no hope for\ntheir lives, but think only how they may make most havoc among their\nenemies.  And now again did Ogier the Dane render them good service.\nTruly they had scarce won their way to the rock but for this, for\nwhen they were most hardly pressed he drew back his own company the\nlength of a bowshot.  \"You can deal with these men without me,\" said\nhe to the King's barons.  \"It were better that I should not meddle\nwith them any more, seeing that they are my kinsmen.\"  And so\nsomewhat by favour of Ogier, but chiefly by their own valour, the\nbrethren won their way to the rock.\n\nNow the rock had four faces.  Of these Reynaud kept two, so strong\nwas he, and Guichard one and Alard one.  As for Richard he was so\nspent with loss of blood that he lay upon the ground and could render\nno help.  After a while an evil chance fell upon them, for Guichard\nwas so sorely wounded in the thigh that he could no longer stand upon\nhis feet.  He cried to Reynaud, \"Let us yield ourselves to the King,\nseeing that neither Richard nor I can help you any more.\"  \"This is\nto speak as a coward,\" answered Reynaud.  \"I would not yield myself\nfor all the gold and silver in the world, no nor for Bayard my horse,\nthough I love him better than all other things.  And, indeed, what\nwere the profit of yielding ourselves?  We should of a certainty be\nhanged by the King, and it were better to perish here than to die in\nso shameful a fashion.\"  When Guichard heard these words he was\ngreatly troubled in spirit.  \"You are right, brother,\" he said.  \"Cut\nme now the half of my shirt into strips and I will bind up my wounds\nas best I may, and so make shift to help you against our enemies.\"\nThis he did; so these three still held the rock against the King.\n\nMeanwhile Mawgis knew how his kinsmen had been betrayed, and made\nhaste to succour them.  He saddled the horse Bayard, and rode with a\ngreat company of knights as fast as might be to the place where the\nbrethren were.  Great was Reynaud's joy to see him; while he was yet\na long way off he knew him, not so much for himself as for the horse\nBayard on which he rode.  Swift as a swallow was Bayard, every stride\nwas of thirty feet at the least.  When Richard heard it, he said to\nhis brother, \"Lift me up in your arms that I may see him.\"  So\nReynaud lifted him up, and when he saw Mawgis and Bayard coming up as\na storm comes he said, \"The sight makes me whole again.\"\n\nOgier the Dane was glad to see that help had come to his kinsmen.\n\"See you these men?\" he said to the Frenchmen, \"we cannot stand\nagainst them; let us retreat.\"  But while he was speaking, Mawgis\ncame upon him, so swift was the horse Bayard, and defied him.\n\"Ogier,\" he said, \"you came of true men, but you are yourself\nuntrue,\" and he spurred Bayard against him, and smote him on the\nbreast with his spear so stoutly that he broke both shield and\ncorslet.  What would have been the end no man can say, for Ogier on\nhis part was not backward, but now the horse Bayard, knowing that his\nmaster was near, carried away Mawgis in his own despite, and came and\nknelt before Reynaud.  Then Mawgis lighted down from him, and greeted\nthe brethren most lovingly.\n\nAs for Ogier and the Frenchmen, not being minded to stand against the\nnew-comers, they rode back to the river Dordogne, Reynaud crying out\nto his kinsman, \"Ho! cousin! have you then left being a soldier and\nbecome a fisherman for eels or salmon?\"\n\nWhen they had crossed over the river the Frenchmen blamed Ogier the\nDane, for that he had favoured the brethren, while Ogier, on his\npart, was greatly troubled, knowing that they spake truly, and yet\nthat the brethren held him in no regard for all that he had done.\nThese things so wrought upon him that he mounted his horse and swam\nback across the river.  When he had come to the other bank, Reynaud,\nhaving ridden down to the river on Bayard to meet him, said, \"Cousin,\nsurely we have had enough of fighting; let us be content therewith.\"\nBut Ogier answered, \"You have blamed me for treachery, and my own\nfriends say the same thing.  I would rather be slain than endure such\nreproaches.\"\n\nReynaud said, \"So be it.\"  And the two charged at each other and met\nwith so great a shock that both were thrust from their saddles and\nfell to the ground.  Before they could raise themselves, for both\nreceived no small damage, the two horses, Bayard and the other, fell\nto fighting.  Then Ogier, knowing that Bayard was the stronger by far\nof the two, would have smitten him with his sword.  Reynaud, on the\nother hand, hindered him.  And when Mawgis and the brothers, that is\nto say, Alard and Guichard, for Richard was too sorely wounded, saw\nthis, they made all haste to come.  When Ogier perceived them, he had\nno choice but to mount on his horse and flee.  Then Reynaud cried\nafter him, \"Come back if you will and fetch your saddle,\" for the\ngirths had been broken when the two jousted together, \"and I will\ngreet you in such a place that Charlemagne with all his men could not\nhelp you.\"  So Ogier passed over the river once again, and Mawgis\nwith the brethren went back to the rock where they had left Richard.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\nOF THE CRAFT OF MAWGIS\n\nWhen King John of Gascony heard all the trouble that had befallen the\nbrethren, on the one side, and the Emperor and his knights, on the\nother, he could not rest, so much did his conscience trouble him.  So\nhaving bidden farewell to his sister Clare, Reynaud's wife, he sought\na certain Abbey, and there took a monk's habit.  But a certain man\nthat was a spy was aware of the matter, and told it to Roland.  Also\nhe said that the brethren and Mawgis were journeying to Montalban.\nThen Roland, having first called Oliver, said, \"We will go now and\nfight with the sons of Aymon, and we will take four thousand men only\nwith us, so that we shall have no advantage over them, inasmuch as\nthey have five thousand well horsed and well armed.\"  Said Ogier the\nDane, \"I will go with you and see how you fare, and I promise that if\nyou lay hands on them I will lend you a rope.\"\n\nRoland first came to the Abbey, and said to the Abbot.  \"You have\nhere in a monk's habit a certain John, whom men call King of Gascony.\nDeliver him to me that I may hang him as a thief.\"  And when the\nAbbot would not consent, Roland entered the cloister, and took King\nJohn by force, the man being known to him, and set him on a horse,\nwith his face to the tail.  The King said to a certain knight whom he\nknew, \"Go now to Reynaud and say that I am in sore straits.\"  \"Sir,\"\nsaid the knight, \"I doubt whether Reynaud will so much as stir a foot\nto help you.\"  Nevertheless he consented to go.\n\nNow Reynaud had come by this time to the castle of Montalban.  But\nwhen his wife the Lady Clare came forth to meet him, he would not\nsuffer her to come near to him.  \"Go,\" he said, \"to your false\nbrother John.\"  The children also, for he had two sons, he spurned\naway.  \"I will have none of this evil brood,\" said he.  But when the\nLady Clare swore by all the Saints that she had no knowledge of her\nbrother's wickedness and fell in a swoon at his feet, and his\nbrothers also made intercession for her, his heart was softened, and\nhe consented to receive her again.\n\nAs they sat at meat there came the knight from King John.  He said,\n\"King John is in sore straits.  Roland has taken him prisoner, and is\nstedfastly purposed to hang him.  The King knows that he has sinned\ngrievously against you, nevertheless he prays that you will help\nhim.\"  Then cried Alard, \"If Roland hang that traitor, he will do\nwell.\"  But Reynaud said nothing.\n\nWhen he had thought a long while he began to speak, telling all the\nstory of his life, how he had himself done wrong to others, and how\nhe had suffered many things, and was bound to show mercy rather than\nhardness.  \"King John,\" he said, \"would have betrayed me, but he did\nit for fear of King Charles.  It becomes me to help him in his need.\"\n\nTo this the brethren consented, though not willingly.  So they set\nforth, having six thousand men on horseback, and one thousand on\nfoot, and before they had gone many hours' journey there came Roland\nand Oliver and Ogier the Dane, having King John with them, as has\nbeen said.\n\nWhen Ogier saw them, he greatly rejoiced.  \"If one had given me a\nthousand marks in gold,\" he said, \"it had not pleased me so well as\nthat Roland should meet the brethren and Mawgis and learn of what\nquality they are.\"  To Roland he said, \"See now what you have desired\nso long.  If you take these men alive the King will give you great\nthanks therefor, and you will have Bayard for your own, and the war\nwill be ended.\"  Roland answered \"Ogier, you say not this in\nkindness, but I will do my best.\"\n\nReynaud, on the other part, when he saw Roland and his company, said\nto his brothers, \"Stay you behind till you are wanted.  I will make\ntrial of this great Roland.\"  And when they would have kept him back\nhe said, \"I know that he is the strongest knight in all the world.\nNevertheless I will meet him, for mine is the right cause and his the\nwrong.  Therefore I shall certainly prevail.\"\n\nWhen the two armies were now near, Oliver said to Roland, \"these men\nare too many for us.\"  \"Not so,\" answered Roland, \"the Gascons are\nbut cowards.\"  \"Maybe,\" said Turpin the Archbishop, \"but they have a\ngood leader this day, and a valiant man has ever valiant men to\nfollow him.\"\n\n[Illustration: REYNAUD KNEELING TO ROLAND.]\n\nRoland, liking this talk but little, rode forth to meet Reynaud.  But\nReynaud, when he was now at the distance to charge, lighted down off\nBayard, and fixing his spear in the earth, tethered his horse, and\nrunning forward knelt before Roland and said to him, \"I pray you to\nhave pity on me, for you are of kin to me.  I will give you Bayard my\nhorse, that is the most precious thing I have, and my lordship of\nMontalban, if you can make the King to be at peace with us.  Further,\nI promise that I will leave France for the rest of my days, and go to\nthe Holy Land with my brothers and Mawgis, and there make war upon\nthe Saracens.\"\n\nRoland was much troubled at these words, and said, \"I would that it\nmight be, but the King will not make peace except you deliver to him\nMawgis.\"  \"Mawgis,\" said Reynaud, \"is not one that a man can give or\ntake.  And now seeing that I have humbled myself in vain let us two\nsettle this matter.  There is no need that others should shed their\nblood, but we only.  If you overcome me then shall you take me to the\nKing, that he may do with me as he will; but if I, on the other hand,\novercome, then will I take you to Montalban, but you shall suffer no\nharm or shame.\"\n\nTo this Roland consented, but his friends would not suffer it to be\nso.  So the two armies met together in battle, and many were slain on\nboth sides, but in the end Reynaud and his men prevailed over Roland\nand his army.  Nevertheless Reynaud suffered this great loss and\ndamage, that his brother Richard, having assailed Roland, was\noverthrown and taken prisoner.\n\nWhen Reynaud heard these tidings he was greatly troubled, and would\nhave given himself up to King Charles, if he might so deliver his\nbrother.  But this the others would not suffer.  Then said Mawgis,\n\"Trouble not yourselves about Richard, I will set him free.  Do you\ngo to Montalban.\"  But they doubted how he should do this, and were\nin great heaviness.\n\nMeanwhile Mawgis disguised himself in such a fashion that no one\ncould know him.  By eating of a certain herb he made himself much\nbigger to see, and with another herb he darkened his face almost to\nblackness.  Then he put on him the habit of a pilgrim, having a\nmantle and hood, and great boots on his feet, and a staff in his\nhand.  This done, he conveyed himself with more speed than if he had\nridden the swiftest of horses to the King's camp, for he was a\nmagician, as has been said.  This speed he used that he might be\nbeforehand with Roland.\n\nWhen he was come to the Camp, he watched till the King came forth\nfrom his tent, and said to him, \"God keep you, Sir, from all\ntreason!\"  Now the King, having been deceived many times, said, \"Who\nis this knave?  Does he compass some treason?\"  For a while the false\npilgrim made no answer.  But then, as one that takes courage to\nspeak, he said, \"Sir, you may see that I am a poor man that has more\nneed of health than of compassing treason.  I am newly come from\nJerusalem, where I worshipped at the Holy Sepulchre, and now I must\ngo to Rome and to St. James of Compostella, but I am in great\ntrouble.  Yesterday, as I was passing over the river Gironde with ten\nmen that I had to guard me, there fell upon me some thieves that slew\nall my men and took all that I had.  These thieves told me that they\nwere the four sons of Amyon, and one Mawgis, their cousin.  And when\nI asked them why they dealt so hardly with me, they answered that\nthey were in such sore need at their castle of Montalban that they\ncould not choose but rob all wayfarers.  Then they beat me and let me\ngo.  And now, Sire, I pray that you will avenge me of these robbers.\"\n\nThe King answered, \"Gladly would I avenge you if I might, but I can\ndo nothing against these men.\"  And the false pilgrim said, \"If I\ncannot have help of man, yet surely I shall have it of God.\"  The\nKing said, \"This seems to be a godly man.\"  And he turned to his\nlords.  \"It would be a good deed to give this pilgrim alms.\"  And he\ncommanded his steward to give him twenty pounds in silver.\n\nWhen Mawgis received the money, he said to himself, \"Surely you shall\nhave a reward for this.\"  But aloud he said, \"I pray you, Sire, to\ngive me some meat, for since yesterday I have neither eaten nor\ndrunk.\"  And the King commanded that he should be served with the\nvery best.\n\nSo Mawgis ate and drank; he said nothing, but looked very earnestly\nat the King.  And Charlemagne said, \"Tell me, pilgrim, why you look\nso earnestly upon me?\"  The false pilgrim answered, \"Sire, I have\ntravelled in many lands, but never saw I, whether among Saracens or\nChristian men, so godly and courteous a prince.  Now, therefore, of\nall the pardons that I have I will give you half.\"  \"That,\" answered\nthe King, \"is a fair gift.  I take it willingly.\"  So the false\npilgrim gave him his staff to kiss for a token.\n\nAnd now came Roland with Richard his prisoner.  But before he had\naudience of the King, the Duke Naymes and other Barons said to him,\n\"It will be ill done if you deliver Richard to the King.  Let him\ndepart in peace.\"  \"That,\" answered Roland, \"I will do right\nwillingly if I may.\"\n\nBut a certain yeoman that was standing by heard the Barons and Roland\ntalking together, and told the matter to the King.  And he, coming\nforth from his tent, when he saw Richard, cried, \"Villain, now that I\nhave you, I will see that you are hanged by the neck,\" and he smote\nhim with his staff.  Then Richard leapt upon the King, for he had\nbeen unbound, and the two wrestled together and fell to the earth.\nBut the Barons laid hands upon them and held them apart.\n\nWhen Mawgis saw how the King had smitten Richard, he had much ado to\nkeep still.  Nevertheless he restrained himself, making a sign to\nRichard, and when Richard knew him he was glad, being sure that he\nshould be delivered by his means.\n\nAfter this Mawgis departed from the King's camp, and went with all\nspeed to Montalban.  Being come there, he said to the three brethren,\n\"Richard is yet alive, but he is in great straits.  Come and deliver\nhim while there is yet time.\"  Thereupon they all set out.  But when\nthey were come near to the camp, and had hidden themselves in a wood\nthat was hard by, it so happened that for weariness they all fell\ninto a deep sleep.  And this thing came near to the undoing of\nRichard.\n\nMeanwhile the King called his Barons together.  First he said to\nBerenger, Lord of Valois, \"I will make you quit of all service to me\nif you will take this knave Richard and see that he is hanged.\"\nBerenger answered, \"You love me little, my lord King, if you make\nsuch a demand of me.  I will not do this thing.\"\n\nThen the King said to another of the Barons, \"You hold Bavaria of me,\nand are bound to serve me with three thousand men.  I will quit you\nof this service if you will hang this knave Richard.\"  \"I will not\nhurt the man,\" answered the Earl.\n\nThen he turned to Ogier the Dane and said, \"Now, if you would prove\nme your love, hang this fellow.\"  \"Nay,\" answered Ogier, \"I will not,\nand, moreover, I hold any man to be my enemy that shall harm Richard.\"\n\nAt the last he said to Turpin the Archbishop, \"Hang this Richard, and\nI will make you Pope of Rome.\"  \"Sire,\" answered Turpin, \"to do so\nwould be against my priest's duty.\"\n\nAt last the King prevailed with a certain knight, Ripus by name, that\nhe should do this deed.  So this Ripus, having put a halter about\nRichard's neck, led him to the gallows which had been set up outside\nthe wood.  And when Richard would have given him gold he would have\nnone of it.  Only he suffered that a priest should shrive him, to\nwhom indeed Richard confessed more sins than he had committed in his\nwhole life, so gaining a little time, for he yet looked for help.\nAnd when the shriving was ended, then he begged for time wherein he\nmight make his prayers, nor could Ripus say him nay.\n\nAnd now, when he was in the greatest need, did the good horse Bayard\nhelp him, for he, having such wit as never horse had before, seeing\nthat Reynaud his master was fast asleep, smote with his hoof on his\nshield that he woke him, and he, looking up, the gallows being hard\nby the wood, saw Richard now beginning to mount the ladder that was\nset against the gallows.  Then he leapt on Bayard's back, and made\nall haste to deliver Richard, Mawgis and Alard and Guichard following\nhim with all the speed they could use.\n\nAs for Ripus and his men, they could make no stand against the\nbrothers and Mawgis.  Many were slain, and the rest were right glad\nto fly.  Then Reynaud took the bodies of Ripus and fifteen of his\nknights that lay dead upon the plain and hanged them on the gallows\nthat had been set up for Richard.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\nMORE DEEDS OF MAWGIS\n\nWhen Reynaud had accomplished the delivering of his brother Richard,\nhe sent the greater part of his company back to Montalban, but he\nhimself remained with the rest, being minded to do some great thing\nagainst King Charles.  And this he did, for making his way into the\ncamp with his comrades, he came to the King's tent.  Cutting the\ncords, so that the whole tent fell to the ground, he laid hands on\nthe golden Eagle that was on the great pole in the middle, a thing so\ncostly that no man could tell the price thereof.  In this Mawgis\nhelped him.\n\nBut this adventure had nearly turned out to the great disadvantage of\nthe brothers and Mawgis.  For Mawgis was not content with the taking\nof the Eagle, but would have slain the King.  He made his way into\nthe inner part of the tent where the King lay, and said to him, \"Sir\nKing, you have troubled us over long, slaying my father and doing us\nall manner of mischief.  And now you shall die.\"  So saying, he\nthrust at the King with his spear; but the King turned about, and the\nspear was thrust into the bed two feet and more.  Then was King\nCharles sore afraid, and cried out for Roland.  When Mawgis heard\nthis he looked round, and lo! Reynaud and the brethren were gone.\n\nWhen he found himself to be alone, then, for all that he was as stout\na warrior as ever bare arms, he was not a little troubled, and turned\nto flee.  But many of the King's knights pursued him, and hindered\nhim from escaping, and at the last Oliver overthrew him, casting him\ndown from his horse to the ground, so that he was fain to yield\nhimself prisoner.  And Oliver took him to the King's tent.\n\nWhen the King saw him, he was very glad, and said, \"Now, you false\nthief, you shall pay for all the villainies that you have done.\"\n\"Sir King,\" answered Mawgis, \"you have me in your power and you can\nwork your will upon me.  Nevertheless, I will counsel you for the\nbest.  Make peace, and you shall have the best knights in all the\nworld to serve you.  But if you slay me, you shall get from the deed\nno profit but much harm.\"\n\nThe King said to his Barons: \"Now cause that they make a gallows, so\nthat I may hang this Mawgis or ever we sup.\"  \"Sir,\" said the Duke\nNaymes, \"I advise you to wait till the morrow.  Your enemies will\nmock you, saying that you durst not do this man to death in daylight\nfor fear of them.\"  But the King answered, \"I should be shamed,\nindeed, if this fellow should escape.\"\n\nWhen Mawgis heard these words, he said to the King, \"If this is what\nyou fear, I will give you my word that I will not go away without\ntaking leave of you in due form.\"  \"But who will be your surety?\"\nsaid the King.  Then Mawgis looking round, saw the twelve Peers, and\nhe said to Oliver, \"Sir, when I yielded myself to you, you promised\nto be surety for me to the King.\"  Then he turned him to Roland, and\nmade the like request and so with all the Twelve.  And the Peers\nconsented to his request, and stood surety for him.\n\nThen Mawgis said to the King, \"I am hungry, give me some meat.\"  \"Can\nyou eat,\" said the King, \"being in such a plight?\"  But the Duke\nNaymes said: \"The man that has eaten is better prepared for all\nthings.\"  \"So be it,\" said the King; \"but where shall the fellow\nsit?\"  \"He should best sit by you,\" said Roland.  \"You say well,\"\nanswered the King, \"for indeed I cannot trust him to be elsewhere.\"\n\nAfter supper the King commanded that the Twelve Peers should watch\nMawgis through the night.  Nor was he even then content, for he\ncalled for irons, and bound the man's hands and his feet.  And the\nkey of the irons he kept.  \"Now,\" said he, \"you shall not escape me,\nyou false thief.\"  \"Think you so?\" said Mawgis.  \"Nevertheless, I\nshall be at Montalban to-morrow before prime.\"  And the King was so\nwroth, that he would have slain the man forthwith, only the Peers\nhindered him.\n\nThis done, they sat down to play at the tables, and at chess, and at\nother games.  After a while they all felt a great desire to sleep.\nWhereupon Mawgis began to work upon them with his magic.  First he\nmade their sleep to be stronger by far, so that the King and the\nPeers and the whole company were altogether mastered by it.  Then\nwith another charm he loosed the collar from his neck and the fetters\nfrom his legs.  Then seeing that the King had fallen with his head\nawry, he took a pillow and set it under him.  Also he took from him\nhis sword Joyous, and from Roland his sword Durendal, and the sword\nwhich Oliver carried, Hautclere by name.  Also he took much treasure\nout of the King's treasury.  When he had so done, he took a herb that\nhe had, and rubbed the King's nose and lips with it, and said, \"Wake,\nSir King, I said that I should not go without taking leave.  Now,\ntherefore, farewell,\" and he vanished out of the place.\n\nWhen the King came to himself, he was so angry as never man was\nbefore.  He would have woke the Peers, but could not, so fast asleep\nwere they.  Then he bethought him of a certain herb that he had\nbrought from overseas.  This he rubbed on the nose and mouth and eyes\nof the Peers, and they awoke forthwith.  Said the Duke Naymes, \"Where\nnow is Mawgis?\"  \"He is gone,\" answered the King, \"and by your fault,\nfor ye hindered me when I would have hanged him.\"  \"Did you see him\ndepart?\" said Oliver to Roland, \"No, by St. Denis,\" answered Roland.\nBut the King said, \"I saw him go with my own eyes.\"  \"Then you should\nhave warned us,\" said Roland, and as he spake he put his hand to his\nside and missed his good sword Durendal.  And when the Peers found\nthat their swords were gone they were fairly distraught with anger.\n\nThe next day the King said to his Barons: \"Go now to Reynaud, and\ntell him that if he will give back to me my golden Eagle and my\ncrown, and my sword Joyous, then I will grant him a truce for two\nyears.  Ogier shall take this message, and the Duke Naymes and Turpin\nthe Archbishop.\"\n\nSo these mounted their horses and rode to Montalban.  When they were\ncome to the gate, they called the porter and said to him, \"We be\nknights of the King, and would fain speak with Sir Reynaud.\"  So the\nporter told the thing to the brethren.\n\nRichard went to the gate and saluted them courteously, and brought\nthem into the castle, where they were honourably received by Reynaud\nand the Lady Clare, Alard also and Guichard helping.  Then Ogier\ndelivered his message, and Reynaud said, \"Tarry here, my lords, this\nnight, and we will give you an answer in the morning.\"  To this they\nconsented.  So a great feast was prepared, and they sat down and were\nright royally entertained.\n\nThe next day the Duke Naymes said to Reynaud, \"What answer do you\nmake to the King?\"  Reynaud answered, \"I will do as he desires.\"\n\nWhen Ogier the Dane heard this, he was glad, and thought within\nhimself, \"Now will the King be greatly pleased.  Maybe there shall be\nnot a truce only, but peace.  If I can move Reynaud to come back with\nus to the King, the two may well be reconciled.\"  So he told his\nthought to Reynaud and Reynaud consented to it.\n\nThe next day they set out.  Ogier and the Duke Naymes went on with\nall speed they might use to the King's camp; but Reynaud and Alard\nfollowed slowly with Turpin and another.\n\nIn the meanwhile a certain spy, having knowledge of the whole matter,\nmade haste to tell it to the King, and this he did before that Ogier\nand the Duke were come to the camp.  When the King heard it, he said\nto Oliver: \"Take with you two hundred knights, and ride with all\nhaste to the river of Besan\u00e7on, where, if you use diligence, you will\nfind Reynaud and Alard.  Lay hold of them and bring them hither to\nme.\"\n\nSo Oliver rode with his knights, and when he was come to the river,\nhe found Reynaud on foot and Bayard his horse so far from him that he\ncould not mount him; so he was taken unawares.  Then he turned to\nTurpin and that other in great anger, saying, \"Villains, you have\nbetrayed me.\"  \"Sir,\" answered Turpin, \"I swear to you that I am\ninnocent in this matter.\"\n\nReynaud said to Oliver, \"Remember you how I helped you at Vancouleurs\nwhen you were borne to the ground, giving you again your horse and\nhelping you to mount.\"  \"I remember it well,\" answered Oliver.  \"No\nman shall harm you if I can hinder him.  Nevertheless I must take you\nto the King.\"  So they set out to go to the camp.\n\nBut the Duke Naymes and Ogier and Oliver and all the Peers made\nentreaty to the King, that he would make peace with the brethren.\nBut he hardened his heart against them.  \"You waste your breath,\" he\nsaid, \"I will do the thing that I choose, though you all shall say me\nnay;\" and turning to Reynaud he said, \"You shall not cheat me as did\nthat false thief Mawgis, for I will cut you into pieces and burn the\npieces with fire.\"  \"Sir,\" answered Reynaud, \"you shall not do so,\nGod being my helper.\"\n\nThe King, being thus defied, turned him to Ogier, and said, \"Ogier,\nwill you take the part of my mortal enemy?\"  \"That will not I,\"\nanswered Ogier; \"nevertheless I will defend my honour against all\nmen, even against the King.\"\n\nThen said Reynaud, \"Sir, you have said that I am a traitor.  Now know\nthat I am no traitor, neither is there a traitor in all my house and\nkindred.  And if any man say ought against me or my kinsmen, then\nwill I fight with him, man to man.\"  The King answered, \"I will prove\nmy accusation against you by force of arms.\"  Then Reynaud said\nagain.  \"Sir, you speak as a King should speak.  I give you my gage\nthat I am as true a man as any that lives in the world.\"  \"I will\ntake your gage,\" answered the King, \"If so be you can find sureties.\"\nThen Ogier and Turpin and the Duke Naymes and another stood sureties\nfor him.\n\nReynaud said to the King, \"Are you content with these sureties.\"\n\"That I am,\" answered the King.  Then Reynaud would know with whom he\nshould fight.  \"With me,\" said the King.  But when Roland heard this,\nhe said, \"It must not be so, Sire; I will fight in your place.\"  And\nso it was ordered.  Then Reynaud, being mounted on Bayard, with the\nDuke Naymes and Ogier and other Peers, returned to Montalban.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII\n\nHOW MAWGIS BECAME A HERMIT\n\nReynaud entertained the Barons that night in Royal fashion.  The next\nday, after they had heard mass, he was minded to set forth, and he\nsaid to his brothers and Mawgis, \"Tarry here and keep this castle.\"\n\"Nay,\" said Alard, \"we will come with you.  Maybe you will have need\nof help.\"  \"Alard has spoken well,\" said Ogier the Dane.  Then said\nReynaud to Mawgis, \"You at the least will tarry here.\"  \"That will I\ndo, fair cousin,\" answered Mawgis, \"and be sure that Montalban shall\nsuffer no harm through me.\"\n\nReynaud rode to Montfaucon, and there he found Roland waiting for\nhim.  Roland spake the first, and said, \"Be sure, Sir Reynaud, that\nwhen you leave the field this day, you will so leave it that you will\nnever again fight with me or any other man.\"  \"Such threatenings do\nnot become so good a knight,\" answered Reynaud.  Roland said again,\n\"I am not here for peace, but for war.  If you are wise you will keep\nyourself far from me.\"  \"You are overproud,\" answered Reynaud, \"maybe\nI shall abate your high thoughts.\"\n\nWhen Reynaud had spoken these words, he spurred Bayard and charged\nRoland, and Roland also charged from his side.  With so great a shock\ndid they come together, that their spears were broken to pieces.  As\nfor Reynaud, he was borne to the earth, his saddle girths breaking,\nand Roland's feet were thrust out of the stirrups.  Then Reynaud\nrising quickly from the ground smote Roland a mighty blow with his\nsword, so that he scarce knew where he was.  Nevertheless, drawing\nhis good sword Durendal, he made at Reynaud, and dealt him a great\nstroke.  Long and fierce was the battle between these two, for they\nboth were as hardy knights as lived.\n\nThen the Duke Naymes cried to the King, \"This is ill done to send to\ntheir death two such valiant knights, who might do good service\nagainst the heathen.  Bid them cease from their fighting, Sir King.\"\nBut the King said nought.\n\nReynaud said to Roland, \"Let us light down and fight afoot lest by\nchance we should kill our horses, for if we lose them we are not like\nto get their like again.\"  With this Roland was content.  So they\nlighted down from their horses and fought on foot.  First they fought\nwith swords, but neither one could get the better of the other.  When\nRoland saw that he could not prevail with his sword he caught the\nother round the waist, and wrestled with him in the same fashion as\nthe Northerners use.  So they two strove together for so long a time\nas a man might take for the running of a mile.  Then seeing that\nneither could throw the other they sat down, being utterly wearied;\ntheir helmets and shields were partly broken, and the ground whereon\nthey had stood was trampled as if men had beaten corn thereon.\n\nThen there came to pass a right wonderful thing.  There suddenly fell\nupon the two so thick a cloud that neither could see the other.  Then\nRoland, having bethought himself awhile, said to Reynaud, \"Will you\ndo me a courteous turn, and I will some day, if you should need it,\ndo the same to you.\"  Reynaud answered, \"I am ready to do whatsoever\nyou shall ask me.\"  Then Roland said, \"I will that you take me with\nyou to Montalban, for I am persuaded in my mind that in this matter\nyou have the right and I the wrong.\"\n\nSo Roland mounted his horse, and Reynaud mounted on Bayard, and they\nrode away side by side.  When King Charles saw them he was not a\nlittle astonished, and leaping upon his horse he cried aloud, \"Now\nshall I see who is on my side.\"  And he hurried after the two\nknights, and many Frenchmen went with him.\n\nBy this time the King, having been baulked of his will once again,\nfor he had counted it for certain that Roland would overcome Reynaud,\nwas yet more steadfastly determined not to give peace to the\nbrethren; therefore he bade Duke Richard of Normandy ride on and\nguard the crossing over the river while he himself followed with all\nthe host that he could muster.\n\nSo the King and his army came to Montalban and set up his tent before\nthe great gates of the castle.  One came to Mawgis and said, \"The\nKing is come with a great host, and has set up his tent before the\ngreat wall.\"  \"Take no heed of this,\" answered Mawgis; \"if the King\nhas done this thing he has done it to his own loss.\"\n\nWhen Reynaud knew of the matter he told it to Roland, and Roland\nsaid, \"I will now send to the King my uncle this message--that\nReynaud has dealt with me right courteously; also that he and his\nbrethren and Mawgis will give themselves and their castle into his\nhands if only he will promise to save us alive.\"  \"You speak well,\"\nsaid Reynaud; \"I am content to do this.\"\n\nThen they doubted who should take this message to the King.  At last\nit was agreed that the Duke of Naymes and Ogier the Dane should take\nit.  So these two went to the King where he sat in his tent before\nthe great gates of the castle.\n\nBut the King hardened his heart, and would not listen to the Duke\nNaymes and Ogier.  Nay more, he cried, \"Flee from this place, ye\nvillains!  Reynaud shall have no peace with me till I have Mawgis to\ndo with as I will.\"  Then the Barons went back to the castle and told\nhow they had fared.  Reynaud said, \"I wonder that the King is so hard\nof heart.  But Mawgis I will not give to him; no, not though I should\ndie for it.\"\n\nThen they went to supper, and ate their meat with much cheerfulness.\nSupper being ended, Reynaud said to Mawgis, \"Cousin, I pray you to\nwatch this night, for on this hangs the lives of us all.\"  \"Sleep in\npeace,\" answered Mawgis, \"for all shall be well.\"\n\nWhen all the Barons were abed Mawgis took Bayard out of his stable\nand rode to the King's camp.  When he was come thither he cast upon\nall the host, by a charm that he had, a very deep sleep.  This done,\nhe went to the King's tent and took him out of his bed and laid him\nacross Bayard, and carried him, still sleeping, to Montalban.\n\nMawgis went to the chamber of Reynaud and said to him, \"Cousin, what\nwould you give me if I should deliver the King into your hands?\"  \"I\nwould give you whatsoever you shall ask,\" answered Reynaud.  \"Promise\nme then that you will do him no harm,\" said Mawgis.  Reynaud\nanswered, \"I promise.\"  Then Mawgis led him to his own chamber and\nshowed him the King asleep in his bed.\n\nWhen Mawgis had delivered the King to Reynaud he went to the stable\nwhere he had left Bayard and rubbed the horse's back and head with\nstraw, and kissed him, weeping the while.  This done he put on him\nhis pilgrim's garb, and having given the porter all the clothing that\nhe had, went forth from the gate.\n\nMawgis journeyed till he came to the river Dordogne.  This he crossed\nin a boat, and having passed through a pine forest that was on the\nother side of the river, came to a well whereby there was a little\nhouse with a spring before the door, in which a hermit might\nconveniently dwell.  Having entered the house he saw an oratory and\nin it an image of Our Lady, and when he had knelt down before it he\nprayed that Our Lord would forgive him his sins.  This done, he made\na great vow that he would abide in that place for the rest of his\nlife, eating only such wild things as were in the wood.  This he did\nthinking that if he were away the King would make peace with the\nbrethren.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX\n\nOF WHAT BEFELL AT MONTALBAN\n\nThere was great trouble and wondering when the brethren knew that\nMawgis was not in Montalban.  So they called the porter and asked him\nwhat he knew.  The porter said, \"Sir Mawgis went out on Bayard; in a\nlittle while he came back, having a man of great stature on the\nhorse's neck before him, and went into the castle.  Then he came\nforth again, poorly clad and on another horse.  More than this I know\nnot.\"\n\nWhen Richard heard this he gnashed his teeth for anger, saying, \"All\nthis comes of the hatred that the King bears to us and to our\nkindred.  Fain would I slay him,\" and he made as if he would draw his\nsword from the scabbard.  But the others held him back, and they\nreasoned with him till he had promised to do no hurt to the King.\n\nWhen they told what had happened to Roland and the other Barons they\nwere not a little astonished, and Ogier the Dane said, \"All this\ntrouble comes through the King's rage against the brethren, for\nindeed it is beyond all measure.  But now I trust there will be\npeace.  In very truth there has been war too long, and many good\nknights have been slain.\"\n\nAnd now the charm that Mawgis had laid upon the King came to an end,\nand he woke out of his sleep.  And when he knew that he was in the\ncastle of Montalban, being aware that this was of Mawgis's doing, he\nwas yet more angry than before, saying that there should be no peace\ntill Mawgis should be delivered to him.\n\nWhen Richard heard him speak in this fashion he said, \"Do you\nthreaten us, Sire, in this fashion, being a prisoner and in our\npower?\"  But Reynaud said, \"Be silent, my brother; let the King say\nwhat he will; 'tis for us to pray that he make peace with us.\"  Then\nthe brethren and all the knights and Barons that were there, whether\nof one party or of the other, fell upon their knees before the King,\nand begged that he would make peace, but the King hardened his heart,\nsaying, \"There shall be no peace till Mawgis be delivered to my will.\"\n\nReynaud said, \"My lord King, if you had my three brothers in your\npower, and were about to hang them, even then would I not deliver\nMawgis to you.  But besides this I know not where he is.\"  \"I do\nbelieve that he is in this very place,\" said the King.  \"I swear by\nmy baptism,\" cried Reynaud, \"that this is not so, and I know not\nwhither he is gone.\"\n\nThen again all the Barons made intercession with the King that he\nwould grant peace to the brethren, and to Mawgis.  But the King did\nnot abate in his wrath by one jot.  \"I will have Mawgis, that I may\nwork my will upon him.\"\n\nWhen Reynaud heard these words he rose up from his knees, for before\nhe had been kneeling to the King, and said, speaking to Roland and to\nthe other lords that were of the King's part, \"Seeing that the King\nhas hardened his heart, and will have no mercy on me and my kinsmen,\nI do call you to witness that I will henceforth seek my right by all\nmeans that a true knight may lawfully use.\"  Then he turned him to\nthe King and said, \"You may go in peace when you will, I will do you\nno hurt, for you are my sovereign lord.\"\n\nWhen the King's Barons heard these words they were not a little\nastonished, not thinking that any man could deal so generously with\nhis enemy.  As for Richard, he was greatly displeased, and said, \"Now\nhave you let the enemy go; I fear me much that we shall all pay for\nthis ill courtesy that you have shown to him with our lives.\"  But\nReynaud answered, \"Be silent, brother; know that I will not compel\nthe King to do that which is against his will.  And now depart from\nmy sight, for your high words please me not.\"\n\nThen Reynaud called to him a gentleman of his household, and said,\n\"Go now without any tarrying to the yeoman that has charge of my\nhorses and bid him bring me Bayard.  I will that my sovereign lord\nshould ride back upon him to his camp; better horse he could not\nhave.\"  So the yeoman brought Bayard, and the King mounted upon him\nand rode him to his camp, where the Frenchmen very gladly received\nhim.\n\nThe King bade a squire take Bayard back to Montalban, whom, when\nReynaud saw, he said to Roland and the other Barons, \"My good lords,\nI know that the King is displeased with you for your love of me.  Now\ntherefore depart and make your peace with him.  As for me, if I have\naught against you, I forgive it with all my heart.\"\n\nWhen the Duke Naymes heard these words, he would have kneeled to\nReynaud, but this good knight would not suffer it.  Then said the\nDuke, \"Surely it cannot but be that the King's heart will be softened\nwhen he shall hear how nobly Reynaud has borne himself in this\nmatter.\"  \"You say well,\" said the other Barons.\n\nThen there were brought from the stables Roland's horse and the\nhorses of the others.  When they were now mounted there came forth\nfrom the palace the Lady Clare, and said to them, \"My lords, I do\nentreat you to make peace, if by any means it may be done, between\nthe King and my husband, for indeed he bears a large heart, as you\nvery well know.\"  And the Duke Naymes answered, \"Lady, we will do it\nif it may be.\"  So he and his fellows took their leave of Reynaud and\nthe Lady Clare with much sorrow, and rode to the King's camp.\n\nThe Barons made intercession to the King that he would accord peace\nto Reynaud, but he would not hear, but rather was more inflamed with\nanger than before against him and his kinsmen.  First, he bade his\nmen make an assault upon the castle.  This they did with great zeal,\nbringing engines wherewith to cast stones and darts against it, and\nsetting ladders against the walls by which they climbed up to the\nhighest parts.  But all these things availed nothing, but rather\nturned to the damage of the King's men, of whom many were wounded and\nslain.\n\nWhen the King perceived that he could not prevail in this way he bade\nhis men cease from assaulting the castle, saying, \"If I cannot take\nthe hold of these villains by force I will take it by hunger.\"  He\nset therefore at every gate two hundred knights, who suffered no man\nto go out or enter in.\n\nAfter a while there came to be a great famine in Montalban, so that a\nman could not buy food for silver or gold, and not a few perished\nwith hunger.\n\nWhen knowledge of these things came to the King's ears he rejoiced\ngreatly, saying to his Barons, \"This time, methinks, Reynaud shall\nnot escape me.  By St. Denis, I will hang him, and drag the false\nRichard at a horse's tail, and deal with Alard and Guichard in the\nsame way.\"\n\nBut Roland and Ogier and the Duke Naymes were very sorry, and made\nsupplication to the King, but he hardened his heart against them.\n\nIn the castle the famine was so sore that Reynaud and his people\ncould scarcely keep life in them.  Then the Lady Clare said to her\nhusband, \"We have more than a hundred horses in the stables, let us,\ntherefore, cause one of them to be slain, that you and I and the\nchildren may have a morsel of meat, for indeed we have not had aught\nfor these three days past.\"  And when she had so spoken she fell down\nin a swoon at her husband's feet.\n\nThen Reynaud went to the stables, and choosing one of the horses,\ncommanded that it should be killed and dressed for food, and this was\ndone, but it was a little thing among so many.  And so they did till\nall the horses were eaten, save four, that is to say Bayard, and one\nhorse of each of the brethren.\n\nAt the last it came to this, that there was nothing left to eat but\nthese four horses only.  But Richard said, \"My horse you shall not\nhave, no, not though we die all of us.  Verily we had not been\nbrought to this pass but for our folly when we had the King in our\nhands and suffered him to go free.\"  When the boy Aymon, that was son\nto Reynaud, heard this, he said, \"What profits it, uncle, to speak of\nthat which is past and gone?  Besides this I do not doubt that the\nkindness which my father showed to the King will turn some day to his\nprofit.\"\n\nWhen Richard heard the boy speak so wisely he took him in his arms\nand kissed him, weeping the while, and said to Reynaud, \"Let my horse\nbe killed and given for meat to the Lady Clare and to the young boys\nmy nephews, and to others that have need.\"  And so it was done.\n\nAfter a few days it came to this, that Bayard only of all the horses\nwas left alive.  And when the brethren would have had him also killed\nfor food, Reynaud withstood them, saying that he would sooner die\nthan that his horse should be killed.  Yet when the Lady Clare\nbesought him, and his children also, he yielded to them, saying that\nthe horse should die.  So he went to the stable, that he might do\nthis deed himself.  Yet when he looked upon Bayard, and had called to\nmind how many times the noble beast had saved his life, he repented\nhim of his purpose.  Then he gave him a handful of hay, for indeed\nthere was nothing else that he could give, and went back to the Lady\nClare and his brethren and said, \"Endure till nightfall and you shall\nhave meat.  This I promise you,\" for he had a purpose in his heart.\n\nThen he saddled Bayard, and came stealthily to his father's tent,\nthat was in the King's camp, for he knew well where it was.\n\nWhen Reynaud saw the Duke Aymon he said to him, \"For pity's sake, my\nfather, give me food, for my wife and my children and my brothers and\nall my people are dying of hunger.  As I live there is but this horse\nBayard that is left to us.\"  But the Duke answered, \"I have sworn an\noath to the King that I will not give you any help by food or\notherwise.\"\n\nReynaud said again, \"My father, have pity upon your own flesh, for\nsuch we are.  The King does us great wrong when he persecutes us in\nthis fashion.\"\n\nWhen the Duke heard these words he well-nigh fell into a swoon for\npity.  After a while he said, \"You say truly that the King does you\nwrong.  Now, therefore, light off your horse and go into the tent,\nand take whatsoever you can find, nor shall any man say you nay; but\nfor my oath's sake, I may not give you aught.\"  So Reynaud went into\nthe tent, and took such things as he could find and laid them on the\nback of Bayard, and carried them to Montalban.  That night they ate\ntheir meat in the castle with much gladness of heart.\n\nThe next day the Duke Aymon called his steward and said to him, \"Take\nnow the three engines that the King commanded me to make for\nassailing the castle, and fill them, not with stones, but with flesh,\nboth salt and fresh, and with loaves of bread, and with other\nvictuals, and cause that they discharge these things into the\ncastle.\"  And the steward did as the Duke commanded him.\n\nWhen the King heard what the Duke Aymon had done he was very angry,\nand sent for him to his tent.  And when the Duke came he said to him,\n\"How are you so bold that you feed my mortal enemies.  Verily you\nshall lose your head for it.\"  The Duke answered, \"Sire, if you\nshould burn me by fire yet will I not fail my children.  They are no\nthieves or murderers, or traitors, but as good and true knights as\nare in all the world.\"\n\nWhen the King heard the Duke speak in this sort, he made as if he\nwould have struck him.  But the Duke Naymes stood forth and said,\n\"Sire, I would counsel you to send the Duke to his house.  You cannot\nlook for him to be with you in this matter, that he should see his\nchildren die before his eyes.\"  Then the King said to the Duke Aymon,\n\"Get you out of my camp forthwith, for you have done me more harm\nthan can well be told.\"  And the Duke answered, \"I will do your\nbidding willingly.\"  But before he went, he said to the Peers: \"My\nlords, I commend my children to you.  See, I pray you, that they come\nto no harm.\"\n\nThe King commanded that all the engines of war should be broken, for\nhe feared lest others also of the Barons should throw victuals into\nthe castle.  So Reynaud and his men had peace, for no man made\nassault upon the castle.  But after certain days, the provisions\nbeing all consumed, the famine was as sore as it had been at the\nfirst.\n\nAlard said, \"My brother, we cannot live longer without meat.\"  Then\nReynaud took a sword in his hand and went to the stable, having it in\nhis heart to slay his horse.  And when Bayard saw him, for he had not\ncome thither for many days, he made good cheer.  Then Reynaud said,\n\"I were cruel indeed if I did thee harm, good beast that thou art.\"\nBut Yonnet, who was his younger son, said, \"Father, do you chose that\nmy mother and my brother should die, and Bayard live?\"\n\nThen Reynaud was much troubled, doubting what he should do.  Then he\nbethought him of a thing that he might do.  He called for a basin,\nand took blood from the horse, and this being mixed with other things\nof which they had a little he prepared a mess, by which the Lady\nClare and the children were a little sustained.  This he did for four\ndays, but on the fifth day the horse was grown so feeble that there\ncame no blood from him at all.  And now it seemed as if all hope were\ngone.\n\nReynaud and his kindred and his house being in these straits, there\ncame an old man who would speak with him.  \"Sir,\" said he, \"you have\ndone as well as could have been done by any man in keeping this\ncastle, but now you can do no more.  But listen to me.  I was at the\nbuilding of this place many years ago, when I was but a young child.\nAnd I mind me that the lord that builded it made a secret way by\nwhich a man might escape if he was so minded.  This way I will show\nyou, and you can depart from this place by it without danger.\"\n\n[Illustration: REYNAUD AND BAYARD.]\n\nReynaud was right glad to hear this thing so that he forgot his\nhunger.  Then he took his horse, which, indeed, could scarce stand\nfor feebleness, and all the folk that were left in the castle; and\nthey entered the secret way that the old man showed them.  When they\nhad gone a part of the way, Reynaud saw that they had not with them\nKing John of Gascony.  He said, \"We have done ill to leave King John.\nIt would be shame to us were he to die like a starving wolf that has\nfallen into a pit.\"  So he went back and brought him.  The others had\nsmall pleasure to see him, for even the Lady Clare, that was his\nsister, spake sharply to him saying, \"Brother, you have done me such\ndamage that you well deserved to die.\"  But Reynaud said, \"I have\nsworn homage to the King, and I must needs save him.\"  And when the\nothers heard these words, they confessed that Reynaud's thoughts were\nmore worthy of a Christian man than theirs.\n\nSo having gone along the secret way for a while, they came to the\nend, and having issued forth found that they were in the Wood of the\nSerpent.  Many things they suffered as they went, yet for hope's sake\nand by help of such wild fruits as they gathered on the way they bear\nup.  And so with much toil and trouble they came to Ardennes, and\nwere received with much gladness.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X\n\nHOW PEACE WAS MADE\n\nIt happened about seven days after these things that the King rode by\nthe castle, for he would fain know how the besieged fared.  When he\ncould see no man on the walls, he was not a little astonished, and\ngoing back straightway to the camp called his Barons together and\ntold them of this matter.\n\nThe Duke Naymes said, \"We must find out what has overtaken these\npeople; let us feign to make an assault.\"  So they feigned to make an\nassault, but no man came forth to defend the castle.  Then the King\nsaid: \"They are all dead of hunger,\" and he commanded that a long\nladder should be set against the walls.  By this certain of the Peers\nmounted, Roland being first of all, and after him Ogier the Dane and\nOliver.  But finding no man they descended on the other side and\nopened the gates that the King might come in.\n\nSo the King came in; but when he saw neither man, woman, or child in\nthe whole place he was much astonished.  And as he searched he found\nthe secret way, which when he had seen he cried, \"This has that false\nknave Mawgis done.  Verily he will break my very heart for anger.\"\nBut the Duke Naymes answered, \"Not so, my lord; this way has been\nmade many years.\"\n\nThen by commandment of the King, Roland and a company of men went by\nthe secret way till he came to the Wood of the Serpent.  Nor were\nthere wanting signs that many people had passed that way.  So he\nreturned to the castle and told what he had seen to the King, and the\nKing with his host tarried awhile in Montalban.\n\nA messenger came to the King, with tidings of the brethren.  He said\nthat he had seen them keeping a great court at the city of Ardennes,\nand that they had much treasure with them, and a great company.\n\nWhen the King heard this he swore by St. Denys that he would not rest\nin his bed till he had besieged Reynaud and his company.  So he\ncommanded his Barons that they should make ready their baggage and\nmarch with all the haste they could on to Ardennes, and this they did.\n\nWhen Reynaud was aware of their coming he swore a great oath that he\nwould not suffer himself to be besieged.  \"Rather,\" said he, \"would I\nfight with the King in the open field; verily, if by chance he should\ncome into my hands I would not have pity on him as I did in past\ntime.\"  \"Now, my brother,\" said Richard, \"you speak as a man; if it\ncome to fighting I will not fail of my duty.\"  And Guichard and Alard\nsaid the same.\n\nThen Reynaud ordered his host in a very skilful fashion, and mounting\non Bayard rode towards the van of the King's army.  When the King saw\nhim coming, he grew so mad with rage that he was ready to fight with\nhim, man to man.  When the Duke Naymes perceived this, he said,\n\"Sire, what mean you to do?  It were folly to fight with these men.\nRather make peace with them.  For whether we prevail or they, there\nwere a grievous loss of brave men, such as shall never be recovered.\"\n\"Have done with such counsel,\" said the King, \"I had rather be torn\nin sunder than make peace with these villains.  Speak to me,\ntherefore, no longer on this matter, but do you bear the Oriflamme of\nFrance as becomes a noble knight.\"  \"That will I do,\" said the Duke.\n\"Verily, there is no man so old but that he will get hot in battle.\"\n\nThen the hosts joined in battle, and the fight grew fiercer and\nfiercer.  First Reynaud and the brethren drave back the King's hosts.\nWith his first blow Reynaud clave a knight's head to the teeth, and\nwith his sword shore the head of another clean from his neck.  Then\nwith a loud voice he cried, \"Ardennes,\" and the courage of his men\nwaxed so high that the King's men could in no wise stand against them.\n\nWhen the King saw this he charged with all his might against his\nadversaries, slaying a knight at each blow.  And when his spear was\nbroken, he drew his sword, and did therewith marvellous deeds of\narms.  Never did he bear himself more valiantly than he did that day.\n\nWhen Roland saw how his uncle fought in the very front of the battle,\nhe was greatly afraid lest some mischance should befall him.\nWherefore, spurring his horse, he made all haste to help him.  The\nrest of the Twelve Peers did the same, and the King's host was stayed\nup against Reynaud's men.  From prime to noon the battle was so equal\nthat no man could say whether this side or that prevailed.  But when\nthe sun began to move to its setting, Reynaud's men began to give\nway, being fewer in number and spent with fighting.  Then Reynaud\nsaid to him that bear his standard, \"It is time to rest, carry the\nstandard homeward.\"\n\nWhen the King perceived this, he cried with a loud voice, \"They fly;\nfollow them with all speed; suffer them not to escape.\"  This thing\nwas the cause of no small damage; for Reynaud and his brothers and\nthe knights that were of his side turned upon them that followed and\nslew many, and took prisoner Richard, Duke of Normandy.  Him they\ncarried into Ardennes and shut to the gates.\n\nRoland went to the King and said, \"The brethren have taken Duke\nRichard; lest, therefore, he come to any harm, offer conditions of\npeace.  Remember, Sire, that you have now made war upon the sons of\nAymon for fifteen years.  Truly, had you done as much against the\nSaracens as you have done against them, you had brought them by this\ntime under the Christian faith.\"\n\nThe King said, \"Speak no more of peace; it shall not be save on\nconditions that you know.  As for the Duke Richard they will not dare\nto harm him.\"\n\nSo the King laid siege against the city, and brought up great engines\nof war against it, expecting that Reynaud would deliver it into his\nhands, for he thought that by this time his strength must be\nwell-nigh spent.  But when many days had gone by, and there came no\nmessenger from the town, he began to doubt within himself.  So he\ncalled his lords together, and said to them, \"It troubles me that we\nhave no tidings of Duke Richard.\"  Roland answered, \"Sire, I marvel\nthat you do not perceive the truth.  The Duke Richard we shall never\nsee again, unless you make peace with Reynaud and his brethren.\"\n\nWhen the King had considered the matter awhile, knowing that Roland\nhad spoken truth, he said, \"Go now, three of you, to wit, Duke\nNaymes, Ogier the Dane, and Roland, with olive branches in your\nhands, and say to him, 'Thus saith the King, deliver to me Mawgis\ninto my hands, and I will give you peace; you and your brothers shall\nhave your lands again, and your two sons I will receive at my court,\nand I will make them knights with my own hands.'\"\n\nThe three Barons went, with olive branches in their hands, and\ndelivered the King's message to Reynaud.  He answered, \"My lords, I\nam glad with all my heart to see you; nevertheless I marvel much at\nthe King's message.  He demands that I shall give over Mawgis to him.\nNow all the world knows that I have not Mawgis to give or not to\ngive.  Truly I have lost him, and better friend or kinsman never was,\nby the King's cruelty and hardness of heart.  Return therefore to the\nKing and say, 'Mawgis I have not to give, nor would I give him if I\nhad.  As for the Duke Richard, I will hang him to-morrow over the\nchief gate at Ardennes.'  And you, come no more on such an errand to\nme.  I promise you that if any man come hereafter with such a message\nfrom the King, I will smite off his head.\"\n\nSo the three Barons returned to the King, and told him the words of\nReynaud.  And Roland said, \"Sire, take it not ill, if I tell you that\nfor your pride you will cause the Duke Richard to die.  These sons of\nAymon are the best knights in all the world, and they have asked\npeace of you, not once only but many times, and you have hardened\nyour heart against them.\"  The other Peers spake to the same intent.\nBut the King would not listen to them.  \"Not so,\" said he, \"they will\nnot dare to hurt the Duke; verily, if they do such a deed I will hang\nthem all with my own hand.\"\n\nThe next day Reynaud said to his brothers, \"It is manifest that the\nKing will not give us peace.  I am resolved, therefore, to do him all\nthe harm I can, and first I will hang the Duke Richard before his\neyes and the eyes of all his host.\"\n\nSo Reynaud caused that a gallows should be set up over the chief gate\nof Ardennes.  When this was done he sent ten yeomen to fetch the\nDuke.  Now the Duke sat in his chamber playing chess with Yonnet,\nthat was son to Reynaud.  One of the yeomen said to him, \"Sir Duke,\ncome forth, for Reynaud has commanded that you be hanged forthwith.\"\nWhen the Duke heard him speak in this fashion, he disdained to make\nany answer, but said to Yonnet, \"Play you quickly, for it is time\nthat we go to dinner.\"  When the yeomen saw that he paid no heed to\nthem, they laid hands on him, one on each side, saying, \"Rise up, Sir\nDuke, for you are to be hanged in despite of the King.\"  When the\nDuke perceived that the men had hold of him, having one of the chess\npieces in his hand, to wit, the Queen, with which he was about to\ngive mate to Yonnet, he drew back his arm and gave one of the men\nsuch a buffet on the head as killed him outright.  After this he took\na rook from the board, and gave another yeoman such a stroke that his\nskull was broken; to a third he dealt a great blow with his fist and\nslew him.  The others seeing how their fellows had fared, fled\nforthwith out of the chamber.  Then the Duke said to Yonnet, \"My\nchild, you are fairly mated; as for these fellows they are drunken, I\ntake it, to use me in such a fashion; but they have had their\ndeserts,\" and he called to a servant that was there, saying, \"Cast\nnow these churls out of the window,\" and the man cast them out,\nfearing much, lest he should be dealt with in the same way.\n\nWhen Reynaud and his brethren heard what the Duke had done, they went\nto his chamber in great wrath, and said, \"Why have you slain my\nyeomen?\"  The Duke answered, \"There came to my chamber ten churls\nsaying that you had given commandment that I should be hanged, a\nthing which I could in no wise believe.  For this cause I drave them\nout of my chamber, slaying some of them--I know not how many.  Now if\nI have done amiss you can do to me what you will.  But I judge the\nmatter thus, that if these churls suffered at my hand the blame lies\nrather at the door of them that sent them on this errand.\"\n\nReynaud said in great wrath, \"Believe it or no, as you will, but I am\nsteadfastly purposed to have you hanged before the eyes of the King\nand his army.\"  And he caused the Duke to be bound.\n\nWhen the Duke perceived that Reynaud was truly purposed to deal with\nhim in this fashion, he said, \"Suffer me now to send a messenger to\nthe King.\"  \"You shall send him,\" said Reynaud.  So the Duke sent a\nmessenger bearing two messages, to the King one, and another to the\nPeers.  To the King he said, \"I pray you, Sir, if you ever loved me,\nto make peace with Reynaud.  If he have done aught amiss against you\nI will be his surety, and will answer for him that he shall make\namends.\"  To the Peers he said, \"Show now to the King that if he\nsuffer me thus to die, he shall do himself such dishonour as shall\nnever be done away.\"\n\nWhen these messages were delivered (but the King knew not that\nRichard had sent to the Peers) there was great debate, for the King\nhardened his heart as he had done before, and the Peers were urgent\nwith him that he should turn from his anger.  And the strife between\nthem waxed so hot that the Peers departed from the King, taking their\nmen with them, so that day the King's host was made the smaller by\nforty thousand men.\n\nWhen the messenger came back with these tidings, how that the King\nwas still hardened but that the Peers had departed from him, Reynaud\nwas greatly moved, and turning to Duke Richard he said, \"I pray you,\nmy good cousin, pardon me for the great shame that I have done you.\"\nThe Duke answered, \"I blame you not.  Rather do I blame the King for\nhis cruelty and hardness of heart.\"  Then Reynaud caused him to be\nunbound, and said, \"Stand here by me, my cousin, and we will see what\nthe King will do.\"\n\nAnd now the King was at last brought to a better mind, for he said to\na knight that waited on him, \"Ride now as fast as you may, and when\nyou come to the Peers tell them that I will listen to their counsel.\"\nSo the knight rode with all speed, and when he had overtaken the\nPeers he delivered to them the King's message.  And they came back to\nthe camp.\n\nThe King said, \"Go now to Reynaud and say to him, 'The King gives you\npeace on these conditions.  You shall go in pilgrim's garb to the\nHoly Land, and on foot, begging your bread.  You shall leave me your\nhorse Bayard.  On the other hand, I will restore to your brothers all\ntheir lands.'\"\n\nSo the Duke Naymes went to Ardennes and told to Reynaud the King's\nconditions.  Reynaud answered, \"I accept them with my whole heart.\"\nThen he went to the stable, and took Bayard from his stall, and\ndelivered him to the Duke Naymes.  This done he took his banner, and\nraised it on the wall of the castle to be a token of peace.  After\nthis he went to his chamber, and, putting off his rich apparel, clad\nhimself in poor garments, and took a pilgrim's staff in his hand, and\nso made ready to depart.  But first he took leave of his wife, the\nLady Clare.  So sad at heart was she that she fell down at his feet\nlike to one dead.  When she had come to herself he said, \"Take not\nthis thing so much to heart.  As for me I have such joy at the making\nof peace that the time of my banishment seems to be past already.\nNow may God have you in His keeping!\"  And he kissed her right\ntenderly, and went his way.\n\nWhen the Lady Clare saw him go she fell again into a swoon, and this\nso sore that her gentlewomen deemed that she was dead.  When she\nrevived she said, \"O Reynaud, my lord, there was never husband so\ngood as you.  Well I know that I shall never see you again.\"  Then\nshe went to her chamber, and took off her rich garments and clad\nherself poorly, saying, \"This will I wear till my lord shall come\nagain in peace.\"\n\nAs for Reynaud, his brethren and Duke Richard of Normandy and many\nothers went with him a long way.  But he said after a while, \"My\nfriends, you make my going the harder to me; I were better alone.\nReturn now to Ardennes and comfort my wife and my children.\"\n\nSo they took leave of him with many tears.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI\n\nOF REYNAUD'S END\n\nIt must now be told in a few words what Reynaud did in the Holy Land,\nand what befell him afterwards.\n\nFirst, then, when he was come to the city of Constantinople, he\nlighted by chance on his cousin Mawgis, who was lying sick in a\ncertain house.  So much did Mawgis rejoice to see Reynaud, that he\nwas straightway made whole of the sickness that he had.  Then the two\nwent on together, and coming to Jerusalem, did excellent service for\nthe true faith, delivering the city out of the hand of the Sultan of\nPersia, who had taken it by treachery.\n\nThis done the two departed, for they would not take any reward, and\ncame to Rome.  There they confessed their sins to the Pope, and\nhaving received absolution, made their way with all the speed they\ncould to the city of Ardennes, where the brethren and all the people\nreceived them gladly.\n\nReynaud said, \"I marvel much that I see not here either my wife or my\nchildren.\"  Richard answered, \"Your sons are at Montalban in all\nhealth and prosperity.\"  \"That is well,\" said Reynaud, but perceiving\nthat his brethren were troubled, he bade them tell him the truth, for\n\"I see,\" said he, \"that you have heavy tidings.\"  Then said Alard,\n\"We may not hide from you that your wife, the Lady Clare, is dead.\nFor when you left, she sorrowed continually, weeping both by day and\nby night, and so wasted away that she died.\"\n\nReynaud said, \"Take me now to the place where you buried her.\"  So\nthey took him to the church wherein was her sepulchre.  As he stood\nthere weeping, there came to him his children, for they had been\nbrought from Montalban, and kneeled down before him.  And Reynaud\nkissed them and said, \"See that you be good men, for I fear that I\nshall not be long with you.\"\n\nTen days afterwards he and his two sons and Mawgis departed from\nArdennes, and came to Montalban.  As for Mawgis, he returned to the\nHermitage where he had dwelt at the first, and died there after seven\nyears, being much honoured as a holy man.\n\nNot long after the Duke Aymon died, bequeathing much wealth to his\nchildren.  All this Reynaud divided among his brethren, keeping for\nhimself the castle of Montalban, and this for a time only, for he was\nresolved to give up all worldly things.\n\nIn Montalban, therefore, he dwelt awhile, with his two sons, teaching\nthem and training them in all honourable and godly ways.  When he saw\nthat they were each instructed in arms and in all other things that a\ngood knight should know, he bade his steward furnish them with goodly\nclothing and arms and all other things needful.  This done, he\ncharged them that they should bear themselves honourably.  \"Be\ncourteous,\" he said, \"to all ladies; reverence those above you; be\nready to help those that are in need; love your neighbour; so shall\nyou have praise of all men.\"  And when he had said these words, he\nbade them farewell, not without tears.\n\nHow these two fared at the King's Court, how they were in great\nfavour with the King, and how they overcame their enemies--for the\nchildren of a certain lord that had hated their father sought to do\nthem an injury--cannot be told in this place.  Let it suffice to say\nthat they prospered exceedingly.\n\nNow must be told the end of Reynaud.  When he saw that his sons were\nwell established in dignity, he departed from Montalban and journeyed\nto the city of Cologne, in which city there was now in course of\nbuilding a very fair church.  He said to the master-mason, \"Let me\nnow serve the masons with such things as they need.\"  The\nmaster-mason said, \"Sir, you are more like to a king than a labourer,\nand it shames me to set you to such work.\"  Reynaud answered, \"Say\nnot so; I will serve with a good will.\"  And the man was well content\nto have it so.\n\nAfter a while, the master-mason said to him, \"See you those poor men\nthat seek to carry a stone yonder?  Go you and help them, for they\nare but weaklings.\"  So Reynaud went; he said to the men, \"Go and do\nwhat else is appointed of you, for I will deal with this stone.\"  So\nhe carried the stone to its place, though it were of such a bigness\nthat four men could scarcely handle it.  And after this he fetched\nother stones and mortar, and these in such plenty that the masons had\nmuch ado to deal with them.\n\nWhen it was evening the masons came to be paid, and each man's wage\nwas five pennies.  But when the master-mason saw Reynaud, he said,\n\"You shall have twenty pence, for you have laboured so as I have\nnever seen any man labour.  And you shall have as much every day.\"\n\"Nay,\" answered Reynaud, \"give me one penny only, that I may have\nwherewithal to keep me, for I work not for wages, but for the love of\nmy God.\"\n\nThen Reynaud found a lodging in the town, and bought for himself one\npennyworth of bread, and of this and some water he made his supper.\nThe next day he went to his work, and this he did many days, taking\nfor his wage but one penny only.\n\nBut the other masons grew jealous of him, because that he was much\nbetter and stronger than they.  So they laid a plot against him, and\non a certain day when he slept they slew him, and having put his body\ninto a sack, they cast it into the river.\n\nOf the marvellous things that happened in respect of this said\nReynaud, they that will may read elsewhere.  Let it suffice to say in\nthis place that the body was found after certain days and was\nhonourably buried in the church of Cologne, and that year by year a\nfeast is held in the memory of the Lord Reynaud, for indeed he was a\nvery perfect, gentle knight.\n\nAnd now it remains only to tell of the horse Bayard that was\ndelivered, as has been said, to the King.  When the host, returning\nto Paris, came to the river Meuse, a millstone was tied about his\nneck, and he was cast into the river.  Some have said that this was\ndone by command of the King; but this is not a thing to be believed.\nIn any case, the good horse was not harmed, for he brake with his\nfeet the stone from off his neck, and swimming to the shore, escaped\nto the forest of Ardennes, where he lived for many years, but\nsuffered neither man nor woman to come near him.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII\n\nHOW RALPH ENTERTAINED THE KING\n\nOn the feast of St. Thomas, which is four days before Yule, King\nCharles rode out of the city of Paris with a great company of princes\nand nobles.  As they rode across the moor a great tempest from the\neast fell upon them.  So fierce was the wind and so heavy the rain,\nthat they were scattered over the country, nor could they tell, the\nday being well nigh as dark as night, whither they were going.  Of\nwhat befell the rest of the company there is no need to tell; this\ntale concerns King Charles only.\n\nAs he rode in sore plight, not knowing where he might find shelter,\nhe was aware of a churl, who was leading a mare carrying two great\npanniers.  \"Now tell me your name,\" said the King.  \"They call me\nRalph the Charcoal-burner,\" said the man.  \"I live in these parts--my\nhouse is seven miles hence--and I earn my bread with no little toil,\nselling coals to such as need them.\"  \"Friend,\" said the King, \"I\nmean you no ill, for I judge you to be an honest man.\"  \"Judge as you\nwill,\" answered Ralph, \"I care not.\"  \"I am in sore need of a\nfriend,\" said the King; \"for both my horse and I are ready to perish,\nthe storm is so fierce.  Tell me then where I can find shelter.\"\n\"Shelter!\" said Ralph, \"I know of none, save in my own cottage, and\nthat is far hence in the forest.  But to that you are welcome, if you\ncare to come with me.\"\n\nThe King was right glad to hear these words.  \"That is well,\" said\nhe, \"God reward you for your goodness.\"  \"Nay,\" answered the churl,\n\"keep your thanks till they have been earned.  As yet you have had\nfrom me nothing, neither fire, nor meat, nor dinner, nor\nresting-place.  To-morrow when you go you can thank me, if you be so\nminded, with better reason.  To praise first, and, may be, to blame\nafterwards--that is contrary to sense.\"  \"So shall it be,\" said the\nKing.  So they went their way, talking as they went.\n\nWhen they were come to the house Ralph called with a loud voice to\nhis wife, \"Are you within, dame?  Come out, open the door without\ndelay.  My guest and I are shivering with cold; such evil weather I\nhave never seen.\"  The good wife, when she heard her master's voice,\nmade all haste to the door, knowing that he was a man of a hasty\ntemper.  \"You are welcome home,\" said she to Ralph; and to the\nstranger, \"You are welcome also.\"  \"Kindle a great fire,\" said Ralph,\n\"and take two capons of the best, that we may have good cheer,\" and\nhe took the King by the hand, and would have him go before him into\nthe house.  But the King stood back by the door, and would have the\ncharcoal-burner pass in before him.  \"That is but poor courtesy,\"\nsaid the man, and took him by the neck and pushed him in.\n\nWhen they had warmed themselves awhile by the fire, which was blazing\nin right royal fashion, Ralph cried to his wife, \"Let us have supper,\nGillian, as quickly as may be, and of the best, for we have had a\ntoilsome day, and may well have a merry night.  Never have I suffered\nworse weather or been so near to losing my way as when I met with\nthis stranger here.\"\n\nIn no long time, when they had washed themselves, the supper was\nready.  \"Now, friend,\" said Ralph, \"take the dame by the hand, and\nlead her to the board.\"  And when the King held back, he cried, \"Now\nthis is the second time,\" and smote him suddenly under the ear with\nhis right hand, so strongly that he staggered half across the\nchamber, and fell to the ground.  When the King rose, and indeed he\ncould scarcely stand, \"Now, Gillian,\" said Ralph, \"take him by the\nhand and go to the table as I bid you.\"  To his guest he said, \"Now\nthis is the second time that you have been lacking in courtesy, first\nby the door, and then at the table.  Will you not do as you are bid?\nAm not I the master of my own house?\"  The King said to himself,\n\"These are strange doings.  Never have I been so dealt with in all my\nlife.\"  Nevertheless for peace' sake he did as he was bid, and giving\nhis hand to the dame, led her to the table.  So they sat, the\ncharcoal-burner on one side of the table, and the King and dame\nGillian on the other.  Right good cheer they had, fat capons, and\nbread, and wine of the best.  Truly they wanted for nothing.\n\nSaid the churl to the King, \"Sir, the foresters in this place\nthreaten me much about the deer.  They say that I am ever bringing\ndown the fattest of the herd.  They will hale me, they say, to Paris,\nand bring me before the King, and make complaint against me.  Say\nwhat they will, why should I not have enough for myself, aye, and to\nset before a guest?  And now, my friend, spare not; there is enough\nand more.\"  When they had well eaten, Ralph said to his wife, \"Now,\nGill, send round the cup.  I will drink to my friend, and he shall\ndrink to me.\"  So the dame handed the cup, and the two drank to each\nother.  Then, supper being ended, they sat by the fire, and the\nCharcoal-burner told many merry tales.  When it grew late, he said to\nthe King, \"Tell me now where you live.\"  \"I live at Court,\" said he,\n\"where I have an office with the Queen.\"  \"And what is your office?\"\n\"I am gentleman of the Queen's bed-chamber.\"  \"And what is your\nname?\"  \"My name is Wymond; Wymond of the Wardrobe they call me.  And\nnow, if you will come to Court, I can doubtless serve you, for I will\nsee that you have a good sale for your fuel.\"  Said Ralph, \"I know\nnot where the Court of which you speak may be.\"  But Charles urged\nhim, saying that the King and Queen would be in Paris to spend\nYuletide together, and that there would be much merrymaking, and that\nwithout doubt he would sell his fuel to great advantage.  \"You seem\nto talk reason,\" said Ralph, \"I will come.  And now let us have\nanother cup, and so to bed.\"  So the collier and the dame led him to\nanother chamber, where there was a bed handsomely furnished, and\nclosed in with curtains.  When they saw that he was well served and\nhad all that he needed, they bade him good-night, and the King\nthanked them for their courtesy.\n\nThe next day as soon as it was light, the King rose from the bed and\ndressed himself without help, for, indeed, he had neither valet nor\nsquire.  Then his palfrey was brought to him, which when he had\nmounted, he called to Ralph, where he lay, for he would take his\nleave in friendly fashion, as was fitting in one that had had such\ngood cheer.  When the churl was roused, he said to the King, \"Now\ntarry awhile till this evil weather be ended.\"  \"Nay,\" answered the\nKing, \"I must needs to my work and office; Yuletide is now at hand,\nand he that is found wanting will be greatly blamed.  And now call\nthy good wife that I may pay her for the shelter and good cheer that\nI have had.\"  \"Nay,\" cried Ralph, \"that shall never be; to think that\nI should take pay for sheltering one that is of the Court of the King\nCharles!\"  \"So be it,\" answered the King; \"but at least if you will\nnot take pay, come to the Court with a load of fuel as soon as may\nbe; I warrant that if you will do so, you will make good profit of\nyour goods.\"  \"That will I,\" answered Ralph.  \"I would fain see how\ncoals sell at court.  And now tell me your name once more, lest I\nforget it.\"\n\nThen the King rode away, nor had he travelled long when Roland and\nOliver, with a thousand men after them, met him.  They had come forth\nto search for him, and right glad were they to find him.  So they\nturned their horses' heads and journeyed back to Paris.  When they\nwere near the town, Turpin the Archbishop came forth from the gates\nto meet them with a great company of bishops and priests and others\ngiving thanks to God that their lord the King was come again to\nParis.  And when they had come to Paris, they went to the Church of\nSt. Denis, where there was service.  And after service they went to\nthe Palace, and kept their Yule feast with much mirth and plenty of\ngood things.  For one-and-twenty days did they feast.  Never had such\na Yuletide been kept in the land of France.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII\n\nHOW RALPH WENT TO COURT\n\nThe next day, Ralph, having thought much on what he had undertaken,\nloaded his mare, as he was wont to do, with two panniers full of\ncoals, and made ready to start on his journey to the court.  \"This is\nnot of my counsel,\" said Gillian his wife; \"this journey will not be\nto your profit.  Remember the shrewd blow that you dealt him.  Keep\nfrom the Court, say I.\"  \"Nay, Gill,\" said the Charcoal-burner, \"I\nmust have my way.  I promised that I would go, and go I will, whether\nmy going be for profit or for harm.\"  So he loaded the panniers and\nwent his way to the Court.\n\nMeanwhile King Charles had not forgotten the matter.  He called\nRoland to him, for, indeed, there was no man whom he trusted more,\nand said to him, \"To-morrow morning take your horse and your harness,\nand watch well the road by which we went on the day that I was lost,\nand if you see anyone coming this way, whatever his errand may be,\nbring him with you to this place, and take care that he sees no one\nbefore he sees me.\"\n\nRoland wondered much what the King might mean, for it seemed a\nstrange thing that on the very day of Yuletide, when a man should\nrest, he should be sent on such an errand.  Nevertheless he took his\nhorse and his harness and rode forth early in the morning, and\nwatched the roads as he had been commanded.  For a long time he saw\nnothing either far or near; but a little past midday he saw the\nCharcoal-burner come driving his mare before him with two panniers\nfilled with coals.  The sight pleased him well; so he rode up to him\nwith all the speed that he could.  The man saluted him courteously,\nand Roland, in his turn, also saluted him.  Their greetings ended, he\nsaid to the man, \"Come now to the King; let nothing hinder you.\"\n\"Nay,\" said Ralph, \"I am not so foolish.  This is a jest, Sir Knight,\nand it is ill courtesy for a knight to jest with a common man.  There\nbe many men better than I that come and go to Paris, and the King has\nno thought of them, whether it be morning or night.  If you are in\nmind to trick me, I can hold my own, for all that I am ill-clad.\"\n\"This is but foolishness,\" said Roland, \"the King has straightly\ncommanded that you should be brought to him.\"  \"Nay,\" answered Ralph,\n\"I am on my way, according to promise made to one Wymond, and to him\nI will go and to none other.\"  \"Have done with your Wymond,\" cried\nRoland, \"I must take you to the King as the King has commanded.\"\n\nSo they wrangled a long time, and still the churl was firmly set that\nhe would go to Wymond and to none other.  \"And where dwells this\nWymond of yours?\" said Roland.  \"He dwells with the Queen at Paris,\nif his tale be true.\"  \"If that be so,\" answered Roland, \"seeing that\nI know well the Queen and her ladies, and you are on your way to\nthem, I will trust to your going.  Only you must give me a pledge\nthat this is truly your purpose.\"  \"Nay,\" said the Charcoal-burner,\n\"I will pledge you no pledge.  And as for you, get you out of my way,\nor it will be the worse for you.\"\n\nRoland said to himself, \"Now this is but folly to continue any longer\nwith this fellow.\"  And he took his leave of the man full pleasantly.\nBut Ralph liked not such ways; for he thought that this knight that\nwas so gaily clad had him in scorn.  \"Come hither, Sir Knight,\nto-morrow when we can be alone together, you and I; surely you shall\nsee how I will deal with you.\"\n\nThen Roland rode back to the King.  By this time Mass was ended, and\nthe King had put on his robes.  \"You are well come, Sir Roland,\" said\nhe, \"have you done my errand?\"  \"Sire,\" answered Sir Roland, \"I went\nas you gave me commandment, and watched the ways, but saw no man, but\none only.\"  \"And who was this one?\" asked the King.  \"He,\" said\nRoland, \"was but a churl that had with him two panniers of coal.\"\n\"Why did you not bring this said churl to me, as I bid you?  It may\nbe you durst not.\"\n\nRoland saw that the King was wroth, and was not a little glad to go\nforth from his presence.  Going forth he met a porter, \"Whither go\nyou, lazy loon?\" said he.  Said the porter, \"There is one at the\ngate, a churl that has a mare and two panniers of coals, and he\nclamours to be let in at the gate.\"  \"Whom does he want?\" said\nRoland.  The porter answered, \"He asks for one Wymond.\"  Then Roland\nsaid, \"Go back to your place, porter, and open the gate and bid him\nenter.  But say that it does not lie within your office to go to this\nWymond, but that he must himself seek him.\"\n\nSo the porter went back to the gate and opened it, saying to the\nCharcoal-burner, \"Enter, man; but I have no leisure to seek for this\nWymond for whom you ask.  You must seek him yourself.\"  Said Ralph,\n\"If you will not seek the man, I must needs do it myself; see you\nthen that no harm come to the mare and the coals, and I will look for\nWymond, for certainly it was he that bade me come hither.\"\n\n[Illustration: RALPH IN THE PALACE OF CHARLEMAGNE.]\n\nSo the Charcoal-burner went his way through the palace asking for\nWymond.  There was not one that knew the man, or had so much as heard\nthe name.  They seemed to Ralph to lack courtesy; nevertheless he\nwould not cease from his quest, nor was there any one of whom he\nfailed to inquire.  After he had passed through many chambers he came\nto one that was more splendid than all that he had seen before.  It\nwas a great hall finely painted and hung about with tapestries, and\nthere the King sate at dinner in great state.  On the table were many\ndainties, and there was a store of dishes, both silver and gold, and\nmany other adornments.  \"Here is royalty enough,\" cried Ralph.  \"If I\ncould only have speech with Wymond, I would away, for this methinks\nis no place for a simple man.\"  And still he went on.  Many sought to\nput him back, for he seemed to press on in an unmannerly fashion; but\nhe was a stalwart man that gave as much as he took.\n\nAt last, after not a little trouble, he got sight of the King, where\nhe sat in state at the table.  \"See,\" he cried, \"that is Wymond,\nyonder, the man whom I seek.  Well do I know him, though, indeed, he\nis otherwise clad than when I last saw him.  Now he is in cloth of\ngold.  Truly he must be some greater man than he said.  Alas, that I\nhave been wiled hither.  Truly this man has beguiled me.\"  When the\nKing heard this he laughed.\n\nRalph looked about on the company that sat with the King, for many\nworshipful men were there.  But when he saw the Queen, then he was\ngreatly troubled.  \"Lady,\" he said, \"I am sorely troubled to see your\nfine attire, so splendid is it.  Now if I can but escape hence this\nday, nothing in the whole world shall bring me hither again.\"\n\nAnd now, dinner being over, the King rose from the table; and he told\nbefore the whole company how he had fared with the Charcoal-burner.\nThe churl quaked as he heard the tale.  And he said, \"Would I were on\nthe moor again this very hour, and the King alone, or any one of his\nknights, be he the bravest and strongest of them all.\"\n\nThen the lords laughed aloud.  Some, however, were angry, and would\nhave had the man hanged.  \"What is this churl,\" said they, \"that he\nshould so misuse the King?\"  But Charles would have none of such\ndoings.  \"He is a stalwart man, and can strike a hard blow.  Heaven\nforbid that I should harm him.  Rather will I make him a knight.\"  So\nhe dubbed Ralph the Charcoal-burner a knight, and gave him a revenue\nof \u00a3300 by the year, and \"the next fee in France that shall come into\nmy hands, that,\" said he, \"will I give you.  But now you must win\nyour spurs.\"  So the King gave him his armour and arms, and sixty\nsquires of good degree to be his company.  And Ralph was in after\ntime a very perfect, noble knight, and did good service to the King.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV\n\nHOW FIERABRAS DEFIED KING CHARLES\n\nBalan, who was admiral of the Moors in Spain, had a son, Fierabras by\nname, who was the most marvellous giant that ever was born of woman.\nThere was no man that could be matched with him for height, and\nbigness of limb, and strength of body.  This Fierabras was King of\nAlexandria, and ruled the whole land of Babylon from the Red Sea\neastwards.  Russia also he possessed, and Cologne; he was lord,\nmoreover, of Jerusalem, and had possession of the Sepulchre of our\nLord.  It happened on a certain day that this man came riding\nfuriously to the camp where King Charles lay with his army, and asked\nthat some one should come forth and fight with him.  No man answering\nhim or coming forth, he fell into a great rage and sware by his god\nMahomet that he would not depart from the place till he should have\ndone battle with some Christian man; but still no one came forth to\nhim.  Then he cried with a very loud and terrible voice, \"King of\nParis, send out to me your strongest and bravest knight, be he\nRoland, or Oliver, or Thierry, or Ogier the Dane, that he may fight\nwith me.  Nay, and if you will send out against me six or seven of\nyour strongest knights, I swear by my god Mahomet that I will not\nrefuse to fight with them all.  But if you will not send out any man,\nthen I will assuredly assail your camp before nightfall this very\nday, and strike off your head, and lead away Roland and Oliver as\nprisoners.  You have come into this my land without cause, and verily\nyou shall depart without honour.\"\n\nWhen he had thus spoken he lay down under a tree, and having tied his\nhorse to one of the boughs, took off his armour.  This done, he cried\nto the King, \"Send now Roland or Oliver to fight with me.  And if\nthese dare not come alone then let two others come together with\nthem; and if the four be afraid let six come.  Ten kings have I slain\nalready in single combat; there was not one of them, for all that\nthey were mighty men of valour, that could stand against me.\"\n\nWhen King Charles heard these threatenings and challenges he said to\nRichard of Normandy, \"Who is this knight that speaks so boldly?\"\n\nDuke Richard answered, \"This, my lord King, is the strongest of all\nmen born of women, and he is persuaded that there is no king in the\nwhole world that is a match for him.\"\n\n\"For all that,\" said the king, \"I will find one of my knights that\nshall encounter him.  But tell me his name.\"\n\n\"His name,\" answered Duke Richard, \"is Fierabras.  He is an infidel,\nand has done much harm to Christian men.  For he slew our lord the\nPope, and hanged many holy men and women, and to this day he holds\npossession of the holy Sepulchre of our Lord.\"\n\n\"I am the more firmly resolved,\" said the King, \"hearing what you\nsay, that one of my knights shall meet him.\"  Thereupon he turned to\nRoland and said, \"I pray you, dear nephew, go forth and meet this\nTurk in battle.\"\n\nBut Roland answered him, \"Not so, fair uncle; why should I do your\nbidding in this matter?  Do you bear in mind what happened but\nyesterday, when we were so near to being taken by the heathen, how\nthey fell upon us with fifty thousand men and how we the younger\nknights bore the burden and brunt of the day and suffered many\ngrievous wounds, so that Oliver my comrade was brought near to death,\nand indeed, but for your help, we had all perished?  And do you\nremember further how last night, when we were resting in our tents,\nyou, being full of wine, declared stoutly that your old knights would\nhave borne themselves better than we of the younger sort had done?\nNow it shall be seen how these said old knights shall stand up\nagainst this heathen man, for indeed of the younger no one will go\nforth against him.\"\n\nWhen the King heard this he smote Roland his nephew in the face with\nhis gauntlet so sharply that the blood gushed out abundantly.\nThereupon Roland drew his sword and would have smitten his uncle had\nhe not been held by the bystanders.  And the King cried, \"Now, this\nis a most monstrous thing for any man, much more a kinsman.  Seize\nhim, for he shall die the death for this wickedness.\"  But when the\ncourtiers made as if to lay hands upon him Roland cried, \"Now, if any\nman touch me I will cleave his head in two.\"  Nor did any man dare to\ncome near him.  But Ogier the Dane said, \"Now, Roland, you did ill to\nthreaten your uncle, whom you are bound to honour above all men.\"\n\"It is true,\" answered Roland.  \"I was greatly provoked; nevertheless\nI repent of my deed.\"\n\nThe King said to the Peers of France, \"I am much troubled in this\nmatter.  First Roland my nephew, that should have been zealous to\nhelp me, threatens to slay me, and then there is no man that is\nwilling to do battle with this pagan.\"\n\n\"Take courage, my lord King,\" said the Duke Naymes, \"some one will be\nfound to do you this service.\"  But the King refused to be comforted.\n\nNow Oliver lay sick in bed, for he had been sorely wounded in battle.\nBut when he heard how the King and Roland had fallen out, and how\nFierabras had defied the King and his army, and no man had gone forth\nto meet him, he straightway rose from his bed and began to stretch\nand try himself to see whether by any means he could bear his armour.\nIn so doing he made his wounds bleed afresh.  But when he had bound\nthem again as best he could, he said to Garin his squire, \"Come,\nbring me my arms, for I will go out and meet this pagan.\"  Said Garin\nthe squire, \"Now, my lord Oliver, have pity on yourself.  You will\ncompass your own death.\"  Oliver answered, \"Do my bidding, for this\nis an occasion of honour that no man should miss.\"  So Oliver put on\nhis armour, Garin helping him.  This done, he took his sword,\nHautclere by name, which he loved above all things.  Then they\nbrought him Ferraunt his horse, ready saddled and bridled.  And\nOliver leapt lightly into the saddle without so much as touching it,\nand put his shield into place, and took a spear very long and sharply\npointed.  Then he struck his horse with his spurs, and Ferraunt leapt\nup under him.  It was a noble sight to see, so gallant was the knight\nand so brave the steed.\n\nOliver rode up to the King's tent and saluted him, saying, \"My lord,\nI have served you faithfully for these three years past without\nreward or wages.  I pray you, therefore, that you give me this day\nthe thing I shall desire of you.\"  The King answered, \"Most noble\nEarl, I will do this with a good will.  There is not in this land of\nFrance a city or town or castle that I will not give you at your\ndesire.\"  But Oliver said, \"My lord King, I ask neither towns nor\ncastles, but only this--that you suffer me to do battle with this\npagan.\"\n\nWhen the other knights heard this they were not a little shamed that\na wounded man should take up the challenge, while they themselves\nheld back.  \"What is this,\" they said, \"that Oliver, who was hurt\nwell-nigh to death, would now go forth to battle!\"  As for the King,\nhe said, \"Now, Oliver, you have surely lost your wits.  You know that\nyou have been sorely wounded, and yet you will run into a worse\ndanger.  Go back to your bed and rest; assuredly I will not suffer\nyou to do battle with this pagan.\"\n\nThen Ganelon, who was afterwards the traitor, rose up in his place\nand said, \"Sir, this is against the custom of France that you should\ndeny Oliver his request.\"  The King was very angry and said,\n\"Ganelon, you are not well disposed in this matter.  If this be as\nyou say, then Oliver shall fight with this pagan, and if he fight,\nthen he can hardly escape death.  But mark you this: I swear by my\nfaith that if he be slain or taken in this battle, then not all the\ngold in the world can save you from a shameful death; aye, and all\nyour house shall perish with you.\"\n\n\"Sir King,\" said Ganelon, \"may God and Our Lady keep me!\" but to\nhimself he said secretly, \"Now God forbid that Oliver should come\nback safe.  Rather may this pagan smite off his head!\"  But when King\nCharles saw that he could not hinder Oliver from doing battle with\nFierabras, he said, \"Now may God be with you, and help you, and bring\nyou back with joy!\" and he reached to him his glove, which Oliver\ntook with much pleasantness and humility.\n\nBut Reyner, that was father to Oliver, when he saw his son ready to\ngo forth, came to the King, and knelt down at his feet, and cried in\nsore trouble, \"Now, my lord King, have pity on my son and me.  He is\nyoung and presumptuous, full of pride and ambition, but so sorely\nwounded that he cannot fight; forbid him, therefore, to go forth.\"\nBut the King said to Reyner, \"What I have given I may not withdraw.\"\nThen Oliver stood up and spake with a loud voice, \"Sir King and all\nyou lords of France, if I have offended any man in word or deed, I\npray him to forgive me.\"  There was not a man but wept to hear these\nwords.  The King himself wept, and commended him to the keeping of\nGod.\n\nOliver rode forth and came to the tree where Fierabras lay at ease\nand unarmed.  The giant did not so much as look at him, but turned\naway his head, for he despised Oliver as being but little of stature\nin comparison with himself.  Oliver said to him, \"Awake, you have\ncalled me many times this day; lo! now I have come.  And first tell\nme your name.\"  Fierabras answered him, \"I am Fierabras, of\nAlexandria.  It was I that destroyed the city of Rome and slew the\nPope, and carried away the holy things.  And Jerusalem is mine, and\nthe place where, as you say, your God is buried.\"\n\nOliver said, \"If these things are true, it is time that you should\nsuffer due punishment for your misdeeds.  But enough of talking.\nMake ready and arm yourself, or else, by the God in whom I believe, I\nwill smite you where you lie!\"  When Fierabras heard him speak so\nfiercely, he began to laugh, and said, \"You are a bold talker, but\nfirst tell me who you are, and of what rank.\"  Oliver answered,\n\"Before night come, pagan, you shall know full well who I am.  But\nnow hear this: my lord the King has sent this message by my mouth:\n'Renounce Mahomet your God, and all other idols, and believe in the\ntrue God that made heaven and earth and all that is therein.\nMeanwhile take your choice of two things: either depart out of this\ncountry, taking nothing with you, or stand forth and fight with me.'\"\n\nFierabras said, \"Fellow, you are not able to meet me, even were I\nwithout arms.  But tell me now thy name and lineage.\"  Oliver\nanswered, \"My name is Garin, and I am a poor knight; King Charles has\nsent me to do battle with you; make ready, therefore, for battle.\"\nBut Fierabras would not consent.  \"Now tell me, Sir Garin,\" said he,\n\"why Roland, or Oliver, or Ogier the Dane, who are all, men say, of\nhigh renown, have not come out against me.\"  \"They have not come,\"\nanswered Oliver, \"because they think too meanly of you.\"\n\nThis he said with such vehemence that his wounds opened again.  When\nFierabras saw the blood he said, \"Are you perchance wounded, Sir\nGarin?\"  \"Not I,\" answered Oliver; \"this blood that you see comes\nfrom my horse where I spurred him.\"  But Fierabras saw that the blood\nwas not from the horse and said: \"You speak no truth when you say\nthat you are not hurt.  This is no horse's blood but of your own body\nthat I see.  Now drink of this flagon of balm that I took from the\ncity of Jerusalem.  When you have drunken you shall be whole in body,\nand then you shall be fit to defend yourself in battle.\"  But Oliver\nwould have none of it.  \"This,\" said he, \"is but folly.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV\n\nHOW OLIVER FOUGHT WITH FIERABRAS\n\nFierabras, seeing that he must needs fight, said to Oliver, \"Come\nnow, help me to arm myself.\"  Said Oliver, \"Can I trust you?\"  \"Yea,\"\nanswered Fierabras, \"that can you: never have I been traitor to any\nman, nor ever will.\"  So Oliver armed him; he helped him to don first\na suit of leather of Arabia and after this a coat and habergeon of\nsteel, and an helmet richly garnished with jewels for his head.  Was\never such courtesy in this world, Oliver helping this pagan to arm,\nwhom, being unarmed, he might full easily have slain, and the pagan\nhaving pity upon Oliver as not being his match in fighting and all\nthe more when he saw that he had been wounded?  Would that there were\nmore of such courtesy between Christian men!\n\nWhen he was armed, Fierabras took the three swords that he had,\nPleasance and Baptism and Grabon, all being of so fine a temper that\nthere was no armour made but they could break through it.  The three\nwere made by one of three brothers; another of these three made three\nmore, of which Durendal, the sword of Roland, was the most famous;\nand yet another brother also made three, of which it suffices to name\nHautclere that was the sword of Oliver, and Joyous that was one of\nthe chief treasures of King Charles.  On his shield he had the image\nof his god, Apollyon to wit, to whom when he had commended himself,\nhe yet once again besought Oliver to depart.  And when Oliver had\nagain refused, saying that he trusted to prevail by the help of his\nGod, Fierabras said to him, \"Now as you are a Christian man, I adjure\nyou by the font wherein you were baptized and by the cross to which\nyour God was nailed, to tell me truly your name and lineage.\"\n\nOliver answered, \"You could not have adjured me by greater things\nthan this same font and cross; know therefore that I am Oliver, the\nson of Reyner, close comrade of Roland, and one of the Twelve Peers\nof France.\"\n\nThen said Fierabras, \"I knew that you were no poor and unknown\nknight, but a great warrior and a famous, so great was your courage.\nBut you are wounded, and it would be dishonour to me should I\novercome you by means of your weakness.\"  But Oliver answered him\nfiercely, \"Enough of these idle words; when we come to fight together\nyou shall see that I am no dead man.  Nevertheless as you are a\ncourteous knight, I will require you once again to forsake Mahomet\nand your false gods, and submit yourself to be baptized.  So shall\nyou have Roland and King Charles for your friends.\"  \"Nay,\" said\nFierabras, \"but this is folly.  Let us address ourselves to battle\nwithout more delay.\"\n\nThen did these two champions lay their spears in rest and make ready\nto charge.  When the men of France saw this they were in great fear\nlest some mischance should befall Oliver; as for the King, he hid his\nface in his mantle and kneeling before the crucifix embraced it,\nweeping the while, and crying, \"O Lord, I beseech Thee keep Oliver\nand suffer not the Christian faith to be dishonoured by his\ndownfall.\"  Meanwhile the two warriors met in the shock of battle,\nand that so fiercely that the sparks flew from their spearheads when\nthey smote on the shields, and that the shafts of both were broken.\nThe reins dropped from their hands, and they were both so astonied\nthat they scarce knew where they were.  But then coming to themselves\nthey drew each man his sword.  And first Oliver with Hautclere smote\nFierabras so fiercely on the helmet that he shore off a great portion\nof it, and the jewels wherewith it was garnished fell to the ground.\nNor was the force of the blow yet spent: it reached the giant's\nshoulder, but the cuirass which was of stout leather of Cappadocia,\nstayed it; nevertheless the giant's feet were thrust out of the\nstirrups, and he came very near to being overthrown.  And all the men\nof France cried with one voice, \"Blessed Mary, what a mighty stroke\nhas Oliver dealt to this pagan!\"  \"'Tis true,\" said Roland, \"would I\nwere with him this day!\"  Then Fierabras, in his turn, smote Oliver\nwith his sword Pleasance on the helmet.  From the helmet it glanced\ndown and grievously wounded the Christian's horse.  Then Oliver was\nnot a little dismayed, and commended himself to God and the Virgin.\nWhich, when Fierabras heard, he said, \"I am ill content to have so\nhurt you.  Hardly shall you see the sun set this day, for already you\ngrow faint.  But this has befallen you because you are already\nwounded.  Be wise therefore and leave the battle while there is yet\ntime.\"  But Oliver would have none of such counsel.  Therefore they\nfell to fighting again, and this so fiercely that the armour of the\ntwo of them was well-nigh broken to pieces.\n\nWhen the King saw this, and perceived that Oliver was in no little\ndanger, he was greatly troubled.  He prayed aloud, saying, \"O Lord\nGod, now keep the valiant Oliver, that he be not slain or taken.\nVerily, if aught happen to him, I swear by my father's soul that I\nwill burn every monastery and church and altar in the land.\"  But the\nDuke Naymes rebuked the King, saying, \"Speak not thus, Sir King.\nRather pray to God that of His goodness He will help Oliver.\"  And\nthe King said, \"You are right; I spake foolishly.\"\n\nMeanwhile the two champions continued to fight fiercely, more\nfiercely than befitted prudent or experienced warriors.  Oliver\nespecially was so carried out of himself that his hand grew numb with\nthe frequency of his blows, and at last his sword flew out of his\nhand.  Straightway he ran to regain it, putting his shield over his\nhead to cover himself from the enemy's blows.  But this did not avail\nhim, for Fierabras smote twice on the shield, and so mightily that he\nbrake it into pieces, and the breastplate under it also.  And Oliver\ndurst not go forward to take up his sword, for he feared greatly what\nthe giant might do to him.  When the men of France saw in what\nstraits he was, they made as if they would arm themselves and go to\nhis help.  But this King Charles would not suffer.  \"Not so,\" said\nhe; \"God can save him and maintain him in the right, and He will do\nso.\"\n\nThen the others abode in their place.  But now Fierabras began to\njeer and scoff at Oliver, \"Now I know that you are vanquished, for\nyou dare not put out your hand to take your sword for fear of me; no,\nyou would not stoop to the ground to gain the wealth of the whole\nworld.  Now hearken to me: if you will deny your faith and declare\nthat your God is no god, and believe in Mahomet, then I will give you\nmy sister Floripas in marriage, than whom there is no fairer maid\nupon earth, and we two will conquer France or ever this year shall\nhave passed, and I will make you King of one-half of this realm.\"\nOliver answered, \"Now God forbid that I should listen to such folly.\nThese your gods are no gods at all, and have no goodness or\nstrength.\"  Fierabras said, \"I see that you are firmly set in your\nmind not to do these things.  Now there was never man on earth who\nhas given me such trouble of mind as have you.  But now take up your\nsword; for without it you can have no more strength in battle than a\nwoman.\"  \"That will I not do,\" answered Oliver.  \"I will not take my\nsword by your courtesy.  My life and death are with God; and I will\nwin my sword by fair fight or not at all.\"\n\nThereupon Fierabras came against Oliver, having his sword Pleasance\nin his hand.  Then was Oliver in a great strait, for he had no sword,\nand his shield was cleft in twain, and his armour grievously broken.\nBut God had mercy upon him, and put it in his head to look about him.\nAnd looking he saw the horse of Fierabras, and on the saddle two\nswords, Baptism and Grabon.  Whereupon he made haste and laid hold on\nthe sword Baptism.  And when he had possessed himself of it, he said,\n\"King of Alexandria, now the time of reckoning has come.  See, I have\none of your swords; you must take good care lest it be your\ndestruction.\"  When Fierabras saw what Oliver had done, he changed\ncolour and said, \"O Baptism, my good sword, what is this?  Never did\nbetter weapon hang by my side or by the side of any man living upon\nearth.\"  Then he said to Oliver, \"You are, I well know, an honourable\nknight.  Come, now, take your own sword and give to me that which is\nmine.\"  \"Not so,\" answered Oliver; \"I will make no agreement with\nyou, save this: that I will do my best to slay you, and you shall do\nthe same with me.\"\n\nAnd when he had said this, Oliver ran at Fierabras as fiercely as a\nlion that leaps upon its prey.  Nor was Fierabras slow to meet him.\nIndeed, he smote him so stoutly that he brake through his helmet,\nwounding the knight's head.  Seeing this he cried, \"Now you are\nwounded, Sir Oliver.  Never more shall you see King Charles or\nRoland; so shall I at last have my desire.\"  But Oliver answered, \"Be\nnot so proud nor boast overmuch.  I have a good confidence that I\nshall either slay you or conquer you.\"  Then he made a feint to\nstrike the pagan on the head; and Fierabras, raising his shield over\nhigh to cover himself from the blow, left his side unguarded, which\nOliver, quickly perceiving, drove his sword with all his might into\nthe pagan's side.  And the man fell with the blow, so mighty was it,\nfor Oliver dealt it with all his strength that so he might put an end\nto the fight.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI\n\nHOW OLIVER AND OTHERS WERE TAKEN PRISONERS\n\nFierabras, knowing himself to be vanquished, cried to Oliver, \"I\ncrave your mercy, noble knight, and I pray that I may be baptized;\nfor how can I refuse to believe in the God by whose help you have now\novercome me?  Therefore I surrender myself to you, and beg for your\nprotection.\"  When Oliver heard him speak and saw in what a strait he\nwas, he had great compassion on him, and laid him under a tree, and\nso bound up his wounds that he staunched the bleeding.  When he had\ndone this, Fierabras said, \"Now, noble sir, carry me away from this\nplace, for of my own strength I cannot go.\"  Oliver answered.  \"Nay,\nbut you are of so great a weight that I may not take you.\"  Then said\nthe giant again, \"Take me to the King, for verily I am very near my\nend.  And if you cannot bear me, then take my horse and mount\nthereon, and lay me across the saddle, and put my sword by thy side.\nAnd mark this: there lie in wait in that wood yonder 40,000\nmen--soldiers of mine, whom I set there this very day, bidding them\nthere abide till I should return from the battle.\"  Oliver was\nill-content with these words; nevertheless he took the giant and laid\nhim across the saddle of his horse, and went his way.  Then there\ncharged from the wood a great host of pagans, among whom was a\ncertain Brullant, and another, Sortybrant by name.\n\nWhen Oliver saw these he struck his spurs into his horse, but the\nbeast was so heavily burdened that he could not go so fast as the\nenemy pursued.  When the men of France saw this, they made all haste\nto go to the help of Oliver, Roland first of all, and Richard of\nNormandy, and Guy of Burgundy, and Duke Thierry, and as was meet,\nOliver's own father, Duke Reyner.  Meanwhile Brullant, having\noutstripped his companions, came near, for he rode a horse that was\nas swift as a greyhound.  Then Oliver said to Fierabras, \"Now, Sir\nKing, I must needs put you down, and this I do with much discontent.\nBut you see that I am in a great strait, for if these men overtake me\nthen shall I of a certainty be slain, and King Charles will never see\nme more.\"  Fierabras answered, \"Noble Oliver, will you now leave me?\nSurely I shall be in very evil case if you so desert me.\"  Oliver\nsaid, \"Nay, but I will not leave you, and will fight for you with all\nmy strength to the very end.\"  So saying he put upon himself the\npagan's breastplate, which was in better case than his own, and took\nhis sword Hautclere in his hand, and turned himself to meet the\nenemy.  Thereupon came Brullant the Saracen riding fiercely at him,\nand struck him in the breast with his spear, so that the shaft brake;\nbut Oliver was wounded.  When Fierabras saw this he said, \"Sir\nOliver, you have done enough for me; now take thought for yourself.\nBut lay me first somewhere out of the way, if it may be.\"  So Oliver\nlaid him under a tree out of the way.  And when he had done this he\nsaw a great multitude of Saracens about him on every side.  Seeing,\ntherefore, that there was no way for him to escape, he prayed to God\nthat it might be granted to him not to die at that time, but rather\nto live till he should come to his end in company with Roland his\ncomrade.  After this he drew Hautclere his sword, and smote the first\nman that he encountered--he was the son of the greatest lord that was\nin the army of the Saracens--and cleft his body to the breast, so\nthat he fell down dead.  Whereupon Oliver took his shield, for his\nown had been broken to pieces.  This done he charged the enemy; one\nof the leaders he slew at the first stroke, and not a few afterwards.\nHe bore himself right bravely, but it was not in mortal man to\nprevail against such a host.  First his horse was slain under him,\nand though he rose again from the earth and stood upon his feet, and\ndealt many mighty blows, slaying many, yet he was overcome by the\nstrength and number of the Saracens.  His shield was broken in thirty\nplaces, and his breastplate pierced through with darts, and his body\nwounded many times.  At the last, being overcome by weariness and\ngreat bleeding, he fell to the ground.  Then the Saracens took hold\nof him as he lay, and bound him with cords, and blindfolded his eyes,\nand setting him on a horse, so carried him away.  All this time he\ndid not cease to cry out for help, calling by name on King Charles\nand on Roland, who was his comrade.  Nor did these turn a deaf ear to\nhis cries, but came with all haste to help him, if it might be.  And\namong them was Roland, and Ogier the Dane, and Guy of Burgundy, yes,\nand King Charles himself.  There was not one of them but slew a\nSaracen, but Oliver they could not rescue, because they that had him\nin charge fled with all speed, so that the men of France could not by\nany means come up with them.  Nor was this all the trouble, for many\nof the Christians were slain, and others were taken prisoners, as\nGerard of Montdidier and Geoffrey Langevin.  These the Saracens bound\nto horses and carried away with all haste.  When Charlemagne saw this\nhe was so angry that he well-nigh lost his wits.  \"Help! help!\" he\ncried to the men of France.  \"Will you not save your comrades?  It\nwill be an ill day for France if these men are carried away into\ncaptivity.\"  Nor were Roland and his comrades slow to do the King's\nbidding, for they spurred their horses, and pursued after the enemy,\nseeking if by any means they might deliver the prisoners.  And ever\nRoland was in front, having his good sword Durendal in his hand.\nMany blows did he deal with it, and few were they that were smitten\nand yet lived.  For the space of five miles they followed after the\nSaracens, and still as they followed they slew, but nevertheless they\ncould not come up with Oliver and the rest of the prisoners, so\nquickly did they who had them in charge carry them away.  As for\nRoland, though he swore that he would not turn back before he had\ndelivered his comrades from captivity, yet he was constrained to\ndepart from his purpose, for now the night began to fall, and no man\nknew by which way he should go.  So the King, seeing that there was\nmuch danger lest the Saracens should lay an ambush for his army, bade\nthem halt and turn back to the camp.  And this they did very\nunwillingly.\n\nAs King Charles rode back, he found Fierabras lying under a tree much\nspent with the bleeding of his wounds.  When he saw him, he said, \"I\nhave good cause to hate you, pagan that you are, for you are the\ncause whereby many of my men have been slain and taken prisoners,\namong them Oliver, than whom there is no one in the whole world\ndearer to me.\"\n\nWhen Fierabras heard these words, he sighed and said, \"Most noble\nKing, I pray you of your mercy to pardon me and cause to be made a\nChristian man, so that, if I should be healed of my wounds, I may do\nall that is in me to advance the Christian faith, and to deliver the\nHoly Sepulchre.  And now I beseech you to order that I may be\nbaptized without delay.\"\n\nWhen the King heard him speak in this fashion he felt a great\ncompassion for him, and bade his knights carry him to a convenient\nlodging.  And when the men of France saw of how great stature and\nbeauty he was, they marvelled much, for indeed, when he was without\nhis armour, there was no fairer man to be seen in all the world.\nThen they sent in all haste for Turpin the Archbishop, who when he\nwas come baptized him in the name of Florin.  Nevertheless he was\nstill called Fierabras to the day of his death.  Then the King sent\nhis physicians and sages to search out his wounds, who having\nexamined him, when they found that he had not been hurt in any mortal\npart, affirmed, that he would be whole again in the space of two\nmonths.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII\n\nHOW OLIVER AND HIS COMRADES FARED\n\nThe Saracens that had charge of Oliver and the other knights did not\nhalt till they came to a rich city, Aygremore by name.  Being arrived\nthere they made a great braying of trumpets at the gate.  Balan, who\nwas father to Fierabras, hearing this came to the gate, and seeing\nthere Brullant, said to him, \"Tell me, Brullant, my friend, how you\nhave fared.  Have you taken King Charles, and put his Peers to\nflight?\"  Brullant answered, \"I have no such tidings for you, Sir\nAdmiral.  We have been discomfited by King Charles, and Fierabras\nyour son was overcome in single fight by one of the King's Barons,\nand has been made a Christian man.\"\n\nWhen the Admiral heard this, he was greatly troubled, and fell into a\nswoon.  Being recovered from this, he made a great complaint of his\nill-fortune, and lamented over his son, as one who never having been\nvanquished before had now suffered defeat.  And at last, so great was\nhis rage, he cried, \"Now if this be true, and Fierabras my son is\nlost to me, verily I will strike out the brains of this false god\nMahomet, who having promised me so much has fulfilled so little.\"\nAnd he threw himself in an agony upon the ground.\n\nAfter a while, his anger having now somewhat cooled, he said to\nBrullant, \"Tell me now, was Fierabras my son vanquished by one of\nthese knights whom I now see before me?  If it be so, show the man to\nme.\"  So Brullant showed to him Oliver, and Balan was fain to admire\nhim, so tall he was and strong and fair.  Nevertheless he cried,\n\"Bring him hither to me, and I will cut him to pieces.\"  When the\nothers understood that it was his purpose to put Oliver to death,\nthey were greatly troubled.  But Oliver comforted them saying, \"We\nare not in such ill case as you think.  But mark this one thing that\nI counsel you.  Tell not your true names to the Admiral.  If he once\nknows that we are Peers of France, he will have no pity upon us, and\nwe shall die.\"  But the Saracens knew not what he said.  After this\nBalan commanded that the prisoners should be brought before him,\nhaving been first bound with cords and blindfolded.  This being done,\nhe said to Oliver, \"Tell me now your name and country, and mind that\nyou say nothing that is false.\"\n\nOliver answered, \"I am a poor knight, Eugenes by name, born in\nLorraine, my father being a yeoman, and these my comrades whom you\nsee are poor knights also, and we have taken service with the King,\nhoping thus to get advancement and reward.\"  Balan was very wroth to\nhear this.  \"I thought,\" he cried, \"that I had five of the best and\nbravest knights in France, and that having these I possessed, as it\nwere, the keys of France.\"  And he said to his chamberlain, \"Strip\nthese men of their raiment and bind them to that pillar yonder, and\nbring me darts well pointed with iron that I may shoot at them for my\nsport.\"  But Brullant stood up and said, \"Sir Admiral, I beseech you\nto hear me; it is now eventide, and too late to do justice in proper\nform; your lords and councillors also are not here; delay therefore\nthis matter to the morrow, when the thing shall be known and your\njudgment better approved, for that these men rightly deserve such\npunishment I do heartily believe.  Consider also that King Charles\nmay be willing to give up Fierabras in exchange for these knights.\nWherefore you would do well to keep them without harm.\"\n\n\"This is good counsel,\" said the Admiral.  \"Send for Brutamont, and\nlet him take these men in charge.\"  Now Brutamont was keeper of the\nKing's prison.\n\nThen Brutamont thrust these French knights into the prison, which was\na dungeon so deep that no light could enter it.  A horrible place it\nwas, in which were nourished serpents and toads and all manner of\nvenomous beasts, and there was a most evil stench in it.  Also the\nwater of the sea flowed in when the tide was high, and at this time\nit was so deep in the dungeon that it came up even to the shoulders\nof the prisoners.  As for Oliver the salt water made his wounds,\nwhich were many and grievous, to smart beyond all bearing.  He was\ntherefore in evil case, and most certainly had died but for Gerard of\nMontdidier, who kept him up so that he should not drown.  And indeed\nthey were all in great peril of drowning, and doubtless had so\nperished, but that there were in the dungeon two pillars, fifteen\nfeet or thereabouts in height, upon which they climbed, lifting up\nOliver also, for of his own strength he could not have done it.\nLoudly did he lament, crying out that his father Reyner should never\nmore see him alive.  But Gerard comforted him, saying, \"It is not for\na brave knight to complain.  Let us rather trust in God.\nNevertheless I wish that we had each of us a good sword in his hand.\nI vow to God that we would slay not a few score of Saracens before\nthey should put us again into this dungeon.\"\n\nNow the Admiral had a daughter, Floripas by name, a very fair damsel,\nand not yet married.  She was of a reasonable stature, and as bright\nas a rose in May.  Her hair was like shining gold, and her eyes\nbright as the eyes of a falcon, and the eyebrows above them fine and\nstraight, her nose shapely, her cheeks well rounded, fair as a\nfleur-de-lys, but with delicate colour of rose; her mouth small and\ndelicate with a chin suitably fashioned, and her shoulders straight\nand her bosom of a most dainty curve.  She was clad in a robe of\npurple broidered with gold, of noble aspect, and of such a virtue\nthat no one wearing it could be harmed by any poison.  Such was\nFloripas to behold.  So fair was she, that if a man had fasted for\nthree days or four and should then look upon her, he should be as\nwell satisfied as with abundance of meat and drink.\n\nThe maiden hearing the complaints of the French knights felt a great\npity for them.  So she went from her chamber to the hall, and twelve\nmaidens that waited upon her followed.  And when she came to the hall\nshe found a great lamenting, and asking the cause she heard that her\nbrother Fierabras had been vanquished in battle and taken prisoner.\nThereupon she cried aloud, and wept bitterly, and all that were in\nthe hall wept with her.\n\nAfter that the maiden's grief was somewhat spent, she sent for\nBrutamont the jailer, and demanded of him who were these men that he\nhad in the dungeon.  \"Madam,\" said he, \"they are French knights,\nservants of King Charles, and they have wrought great harm to our\npeople, and done dishonour to our gods.  This also they have added to\ntheir crimes, that they have helped to slay Fierabras your brother.\nOne of them there is who is as seemly a man as ever I beheld; 'twas\nhe, I am told, that prevailed over your brother.\"  Then said\nFloripas, \"Open now the dungeon, for I would fain know how they\nfare.\"  But Brutamont answered, \"Not so, madam; the place is foul and\nloathsome, and so dark that you could not see the men.  Also your\nfather has strictly charged me that I should suffer no one to come\nnear to the prison, and least of all a woman, seeing that many are\ndeceived and shamed by women.\"\n\nFloripas was very wroth to hear such words, \"Thou evil beast!\" said\nshe; \"dost use such speech to me?\"  And she called her chamberlain\nand bade him fetch her a staff.  Which when he had brought, she smote\nBrutamont the jailer so mighty a blow upon the head that he fell to\nthe ground a dead man.\n\nThen Floripas bade them light a torch and open the door of the\nprison.  And when she saw the prisoners how they had climbed upon the\npillars, as has been told, she said, \"Tell me now, my lords, who you\nare and how you are named.\"  Oliver answered, \"Fair lady, we are men\nof France, and knights of King Charles, and having been brought\nhither have been put by the Admiral into this horrible dungeon.\nBetter had we been slain in battle than that we should rot in this\nplace!\"  Floripas, who for all that she was not a Christian woman,\nwas of great courtesy and compassion, said to them, \"Now I promise\nthat I will take you out of this prison, only you must engage to do\nwhat I demand of you.\"  And Oliver said, \"That will we do, madam,\nright gladly.  We are true men and faithful, nor have we ever been\naught else, nor will be.  Give us arms in our hands, and set us where\nwe may fight with these Saracens.  Verily they shall be ill content\nwith us.\"\n\n\"Now,\" answered Floripas, \"methinks you boast overmuch.  Here are you\nin prison, and you boast yourself against them that are at liberty.\n'Tis better for a man to be quiet than to talk so foolishly.\"  Then\nspake Gerard, \"Lady, he that is so kept in prison will oft use light\nwords that he may forget his pain.\"  Then Floripas said to Gerard,\n\"You excuse your fellow right courteously.  I trow that you have a\nflattering tongue wherewith to win a maiden's heart.\"  \"You speak\ntruly, lady,\" cried William the Scot; \"you shall not find his peer\nfor three hundred miles and more.\"\n\nAfter this Floripas sent her chamberlain to fetch a rope, which she\nlet down into the dungeon.  When the prisoners saw it they put it\nfirst round Oliver, and Floripas and her chamberlain drew him up out\nof the water with no little labour.  After him the others were drawn\nup more easily.  Having so rescued them, she took them by a secret\nway into her own lodging, which was a very fair and spacious abode,\nmarvellously adorned with all manner of paintings, as of the sun and\nthe moon and all the host of heaven, with woods and mountains and\nliving creatures of all kinds, made, as some will have it, by the son\nof Methuselah.  This dwelling stood on a black rock, altogether\nsurrounded by the sea, and near to it was a garden of which the\nflowers and fruits never failed.  There were precious herbs also\nwhich availed to cure all manner of sickness and maladies, save only\nthe malady of death.\n\nNow Floripas had a governess, by name Maragonde.  Maragonde said to\nthe maiden, \"Madam, I know these Frenchmen well.  That is Oliver, son\nof Reyner, the same that has vanquished Fierabras your brother; that\nyonder is Gerard of Montdidier, and this William the Scot.  Now may\nMahomet send his curse upon me if I do not straightway tell your\nfather, the lord Admiral.\"  When Floripas heard these words she\nchanged colour, being moved to much anger, which nevertheless she\nhid.  Then she called the woman to come to her where she stood by a\nwindow; when she was come she struck her to the ground with a great\nblow, and calling her servant, bade him throw her into the sea, for\nshe much feared her father and his malice.  \"Go now, spiteful\nwretch,\" said Floripas when she saw Maragonde sink in the water, \"You\nhave your reward.\"\n\nThis done, she greeted the Frenchmen right courteously, and when she\nsaw how Sir Oliver was covered with blood, she gave him a draught of\na certain herb that is named Mandegloire, which when he had drunk he\nwas immediately made whole.  Then the knights were refreshed with\nbaths and were furnished with goodly apparel, and had entertainment\nof meat and drink.  And when they were satisfied, she said to them,\n\"My lords, I know full well who you are, that this, for instance, is\nSir Oliver who vanquished Fierabras my brother; yet I have showed you\nthis great kindness, nor this without danger to myself.  Now there is\na certain knight in France whom I have long loved, Guy of Burgundy by\nname, he is the goodliest man that ever I saw, and is of the kindred\nof Charlemagne and of Roland.  I saw him at Rome when my father the\nAdmiral took that city, and then and there gave him my heart, when he\nhad struck down to the earth a certain Lucifer that was chief of the\npagan warriors.  For the sake of this Guy I will become a Christian,\nand if I may not have him to my husband, I will never marry.  Now\ntherefore I beg that you will help me in this matter.\"  Then said\nGerard of Montdidier, \"Madam, give us arms, and we will put the\nSaracens to flight.\"  But Floripas was prudent and said, \"Rest\nawhile, my friends, for it will need much counsel before it can be\nseen what you had best do.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII\n\nOF THE BRIDGE OF MANTRYBLE\n\nDuke Reyner could neither eat nor drink for the grief that he had\nabout his son; and when he could no longer endure this trouble, he\ncame to King Charles and made his complaint.  \"Oh, sir,\" he said, \"I\nam like to die of grief for my dear son Oliver.  If I have no tidings\nof him then I must needs perish, or go myself to seek him.\"  The King\nwhen he heard these words was full of pity, and sent for Roland, and\nsaid to him, \"Fair nephew, you must go on the morrow to Aygremore,\nand get speech of Balan, and say to him, and that full plainly, that\nhe must straightway deliver up the holy things that he has, and also\nset free those my knights that he has in keeping.  And if he refuse\nto do these things, then tell him that I will most surely hang him as\na thief.\"  To this Roland answered, \"Fair king and uncle, send me on\nno such errand, for if you do, you will never see me more.\"  Then\nspake the Duke Naymes, \"Take heed, Sire, what you do.  You know what\na valiant man is your nephew Roland.  If you send him, he will return\nno more.\"  Said King Charles, \"Then you shall go with him, bearing\nthe letters that I shall send to the Admiral.\"  And then others of\nthe Peers, as Duke Thierry and Ogier the Dane, stood up in their\nplace, and said the same thing, then the King swore a great oath,\neven by the eyes in his head, that they also should go.  So he did to\nsix of the Peers.  Last of all he spied Guy of Burgundy and said to\nhim, \"You are my cousin and nearest to me in blood, you shall be the\nseventh with these six to take my message to Balan the Admiral.  You\nshall say to him that I purpose to baptize him, that he holds of me\nhis whole kingdom, and that he must deliver up to me the holy\nthings.\"  Said Guy of Burgundy, \"My lord, I pray you send me not on\nthis errand, for if you will send me I am assured that you will never\nsee me again.\"  But the King took no heed.  On the morrow the seven\ncame and stood before him and said, \"We crave your leave to depart;\nif we have done wrong to any in this company we pray his pardon, and\nif any have wronged us, him we pardon.\"  At these words all that were\nthere began to weep for pity.  The King said, \"Well beloved, I\ncommend you to God; may He have you in His keeping!\"  Then they went\ntheir way.\n\nMeanwhile in Aygremore the Admiral was in great trouble and doubt.\nHe sent, therefore, for fifteen Kings of the Saracens, that they\nmight advise him.  When they were come the fiercest of them, Maradas\nby name, said, \"Sir Admiral, why have you sent for us?\"  Balan\nanswered, \"I will tell you truly: Charlemagne is on his way hither.\nHe says that I hold my kingdom of him.  Now he were better advised to\nsit still and rest his old body, and pray in his churches, and eat\nsuch food as he has.  Go you, therefore, and demand of him my son\nFierabras, and bid him do homage for his kingdom, or I will come with\none hundred thousand men, and constrain him.\"  Maradas liked not the\nmatter, but said that he would go.  So did the others also; so they\narmed themselves and departed.\n\nSo these two companies both went their way, and in no long while\napproached one to the other.  And first Duke Naymes espied the\nSaracens, and said, \"See now these Saracens are coming against us\nwith a great force; advise what we shall do.\"  Roland said: \"Be in no\nhaste, my lords.  There be but twenty of them, or, at the most\nthirty; let us ride straight against them,\" and this advice seemed\ngood to them all.\n\nAfter this Maradas rode out from the company of the Saracens, and\nsaid, \"It is an ill fortune for you, being Christian men, that you\nhave met with us.\"  \"That is foolishly said,\" answered Duke Naymes.\n\"We come from King Charles bearing a message to Balan your master.\"\nMaradas said again: \"For all that you are in danger.  Will any one\njoust with me?\"  \"That will I,\" said Duke Naymes.  \"You are\noverbold,\" answered Maradas.  \"I would willingly fight with ten such\nas you.  Hear you now, all of you; let no one move from his place; I\nwill overcome you all, and give you to my lord the Admiral.\"\n\nRoland, when he heard these words, was well-nigh beside himself with\nanger, and cried, \"Before the sun set, thou shalt see what we can\ndo.\"  Then he charged at Maradas in great fury, and Maradas charged\nalso.  Each brake the corselet of the other with his spear's point;\nbut Roland dealt Maradas such a blow that he brake his helmet from\noff his head, and then, quickly recovering himself, smote him on his\nbare skull and cleft it to the brain, so that he fell down dead.\nThen the other knights fell upon the rest of the Saracens and slew\nthem, one only escaping, who did not draw rein till he came to the\nAdmiral.  Said the Admiral, \"You have come back with good speed.\nWhat have you done?\"  And the King that had escaped answered, \"It has\ngone very ill with us; we encountered seven Knights of France, who\nsaid they were King Charles's men.  They ran upon us, and had such\nmastery over us that I only escaped to tell the tale.\"  When the\nAdmiral heard, he well-nigh died of grief and rage.\n\nAfter the battle with the Saracens Roland and his fellows rested\nawhile in a meadow that was nigh at hand.  And the Duke Naymes said,\n\"It were well that we should return to King Charles and tell him how\nwe have fared.  I take it he will be well pleased.\"  But Roland said,\n\"Do you talk of returning, Sir Duke?  So long as I have my good sword\nDurendal in my hand I will not return.  We will do our message to the\nAdmiral as the King commanded.  Come now, let us take each one a head\nof a pagan in his hand and present them to the Admiral.\"  \"You are\nout of your wits, Sir Roland,\" said the Duke Naymes; \"if we do so, we\nshall surely be all slain.\"  But the others were of Roland's opinion;\ntherefore each man took a head of a pagan in his hand, and they went\ntheir way.\n\nSo they journeyed till they came to the Bridge Mantryble.  When the\nDuke Naymes saw the bridge, he said, \"This is Mantryble, and on the\nother side of the bridge lies the town of Aygremore, where we shall\nfind the Admiral.\"  Then said Ogier the Dane, \"We must first pass the\nbridge, and it is a very dangerous place.  There are in it thirty\narches, and on it are great towers, and the walls are so wide that\nten knights can ride abreast upon them.  And in the midst of it is a\ngreat drawbridge, which is let down and pulled up with ten chains of\niron.  And under the bridge there is a river, which they call Flagot.\nThis river flows as fast as a bolt flies out of a crossbow; so fierce\nis the current that no boat or galley can by any means cross over it.\nAnd the Keeper of the bridge is a giant, Gallafer by name, a very\nterrible monster to behold.  He is armed with an axe of steel with\nwhich to smite down any one that may presume to pass over the bridge\nagainst his will.\"\n\nThen said Roland, \"Do not trouble yourselves, my lords.  As long as\nit shall please God to keep me, and I have Durendal in my hand, I\ncare not one penny for any pagan, be he giant or other.  This porter\nI will slay, if he seek to hinder me.\"  But Duke Naymes said to Sir\nRoland, \"This is foolish talk; it is not wise to give one blow and to\nreceive a score.  Leave the matter to me, and I will deal so with the\nporter, that he will let us pass over the bridge without any trouble.\"\n\nSo when they came to the bridge, the Duke Naymes rode before them.\nHe was an old man, and his hair was white, so that it became him to\nride first.  The porter said to him, \"Whither do you go with this\ncompany, and what is your errand?\"  The Duke answered, \"We are\nmessengers from King Charles, and we go to Aygremore with a message\nto Balan the Admiral.  He has not driven all evil men out of his\ncountry, for on our way we met some fifteen villains who would have\ntaken from us our horses and our lives.  But we took such order with\nthem that they will not trouble us any more.  See, here are their\nheads.\"\n\nWhen the porter heard these words he was well-nigh out of his wits\nwith anger.  He said to the Duke Naymes, \"Hear me; you must pay your\ntoll for the passing of this bridge.\"  The Duke answered, \"What is\nthe toll.  We will content you.\"  \"It is no little, this toll,\" said\nthe porter.  \"You must pay thirty couple of hounds, and a hundred\ndamsels, and a hundred falcons in their cages, and a hundred horses,\nand for each foot of each horse a piece of gold.  Also you must give\nme four pack-horses laden with gold and silver.\"  The Duke said, \"All\nthis and more you will find in our baggage, which comes after us.\nYou shall have your toll by noon.  Of a truth there are many more\nthings than you say, as hauberks, and helmets, and good shields.  You\nshall take of them as much as you will.\"  This Gallafer the Porter\nbelieved, so boldly did the Duke speak, and he let them pass by the\ndrawbridge.  Then Roland laughed out, and said, \"Sir Duke, you have\nindeed kept your word;\" and when they had gone a little further\nRoland espied a Turk that was coming across the bridge, and without\nado he lighted down from his beast, took the Turk by the middle, and\nthrew him over the wall of the bridge into the river.  When the Duke\nNaymes, looking behind him, saw what he had done, he said, \"Surely\nthe devil is in this Roland; he has no patience in him.  If God does\nnot keep us he will bring us all to our death.\"  And indeed Roland\nwas of so high a courage that he took no count of time or place;\nwherever he found his enemy he would forthwith avenge himself on him.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX\n\nOF THE DOINGS OF FLORIPAS\n\nIn due course the French knights came to the town of Aygremore, and\nhaving entered by the gate, came, a Saracen guiding them, to where\nthe Admiral sat in the shade of a tree.  The Duke Naymes said to his\ncompanions, \"I am the bearer of the King's letter, and I therefore\nwill speak first.\"  At this Roland was ill content, desiring greatly\nto have this office for himself.  But the Duke would not suffer it;\n\"Nay,\" said he, \"speak not one word; you cannot keep yourself in\nbounds; if you have your way you will bring us all to death before\nsunset.\"\n\nSo the Duke spake first, beginning in this fashion, \"Now may God\nAlmighty save and defend our mighty Lord King Charles, and confound\nBalan the Admiral and his subjects.  For these have borne themselves\nto us most dishonourably, seeking to take from us our horses and\nother possessions.\"  When the Admiral heard these words, he had much\nado to keep under his anger.  Before he could make answer to the Duke\nthere came the one King who had escaped from the Frenchmen, and told\nhim saying, \"These are the same eight villains that slew the Kings;\navenge yourself on them.\"  Balan said, \"Let them be for the present,\"\nand turning to Duke Naymes, he said, \"Finish now your message.\"  The\nDuke answered that he would gladly do this, and so proceeded: \"The\ngreat and noble King of France bids you render to him the crown of\nthorns with which our Lord Christ was crowned and the other Holy\nThings.  Also he commands you to set free certain knights of his whom\nyou hold in prison; which things if you fail to do forthwith he will\ncause you to be hanged by the neck till you die.\"  Balan said, \"You\nhave reviled me with violent words; but I have heard you courteously.\nGo now, and sit down by yonder pillar, and let these others speak,\nwhom I have not yet heard.\"\n\nThen came Richard of Normandy, and spake the same words.  When the\nAdmiral saw him, he said, \"You are like to Richard of Normandy, the\nsame that slew my uncle Corsuble.  Go and sit you down till I have\nheard your fellows.\"  After Richard came the others, saying the same\nwords, and other words like to them.  But none spake more fiercely\nand proudly than Roland, who, after that he had bidden the Admiral\nrender the Holy Things and the knights his prisoners, added, \"And see\nthat you give up these same prisoners in good case; otherwise King\nCharles will have you hanged by the neck as a thief.\"\n\nBalan cried in a rage, \"These are proud words.  Now I swear by\nMahomet and Termagant that I will not eat till you are hanged.\"  But\nRoland answered, \"Then methinks you will keep an overlong fast.  Say\nwhat you will; I count you to be of no more worth than a dead dog.\"\n\nLast of all came Guy of Burgundy, who, after he had delivered the\nmessage said, \"I counsel you, Sir Admiral, to submit yourself to my\nlord the King.  Take off your coat, and your hose and your shoes, and\ngo in your shirt only, carrying on your back the saddle of a horse,\nand rest not till you come to the presence of King Charles, when you\nshall confess your misdoings, and pray for mercy.  Which things if\nyou do not, you will assuredly be hanged or burnt with fire.\"\n\nWhen he had heard all these words the Admiral was not a little wroth.\nHe called, therefore, Brullant and Sortibrant, and others of his\ncounsellors, and said to them, \"What shall we do with these men?\"\nSortibrant answered, \"Let them be cut in pieces.  And when you have\nslain them, gather together all your armies, and go to Mormyond,\nwhere King Charles is at this present, and take him, and put him to\ndeath.\"  When the Admiral heard this counsel he agreed to it, and\ncommanded that preparations should be made for the slaying of the\nFrench knights.\n\nBut the Princess Floripas was aware of all that had been done.\nTherefore, coming into the hall, she saluted her father, and said to\nhim, \"Who are these knights that are set yonder by themselves?\"  The\nAdmiral answered, \"They are knights of France who have reproached me\nwith very evil words.  What shall I do with them?\"  Floripas said, \"I\nadvise you to smite off their heads with as little delay as may be,\nfor they have well deserved it.  Afterwards burn their bodies outside\nthe city.\"\n\nThe Admiral said, \"This is good counsel; it shall be done forthwith.\nGo now to the prison, and bring thence the other knights that are\nthere.  So shall they all suffer death together.\"  \"Good father,\"\nanswered Floripas, \"it is now time for dinner.  You cannot\ncommodiously do this justice till you have dined.\"  But her purpose\nwas to persuade her father with fair words so that he might bring all\nthe Frenchmen together.  She said therefore, \"Father, give these\nknights into my keeping.  They shall be well guarded.  And after\ndinner you shall do justice upon them in the presence of your\npeople.\"  To this the Admiral consented.  But Sortibrant, who knew\nthat women are changeable and inconstant, said to him, \"It is not a\nwise thing to put such trust in a woman.  You will know by many\nexamples how men are deceived by them.\"  Floripas was greatly angered\nat these words of Sortibrant, and said to him, \"You are a traitor,\nperjured and disloyal.  I would give you such a buffet on your face\nthat the blood would run down amain, were it a seemly thing for a\nmaid to do.\"\n\nTheir debate being ended, Floripas took the French knights to her\nlodgings.  As they went, the Duke Naymes said, \"Who ever saw so fair\na woman as this?  Of a truth the man who should do battle for love of\nher would be well inspired.\"  But Roland was angry, and said, \"What\ndevil prompts you to speak of love; this is not the time for such\ntalk.\"  And the Duke answered, \"Sir Roland, I too was once a lover.\"\nBut Floripas, saying they did ill to dispute among themselves, took\nthem into her lodgings, and shut to the door.  Then Roland and Oliver\nembraced with much joy.  The other knights also were right glad to\ncome together again.  And, indeed, it was a marvellous thing; but\nwhat will not a woman's wit effect in the attaining of that which she\ngreatly desires?  For it has been told that Floripas had great love\nfor Guy of Burgundy, and was willing to be baptized if only she might\nhave him to her husband.\n\nWhen the knights had finished their greetings, Floripas said to them,\n\"My lords, will you promise me on your honour that you will help me\nto attain that which I desire?\"  The Duke Naymes answered, \"That,\nmadam, will we do right willingly.  And you may trust that we will\nkeep faith with you.\"  Then Floripas asked the Duke by what name he\nwas known.  And when he had told her she asked the names of the\nothers.  And when she came to Roland and had heard that he was\nRoland, son of the Duke of Milan and nephew to King Charles himself,\nshe kneeled down at his feet.  And when he had raised her up right\ncourteously, she said to him, \"I love a certain knight of France, Guy\nof Burgundy by name, and I would have tidings of him.\"  \"Madam,\"\nanswered Roland, \"he is here in this very place; there is not more\nthan four feet of space between him and you.\"\n\nThen Roland said to Guy of Burgundy, \"Come hither, Sir Guy, to this\nmaiden and receive her right gladly, as is fit.\"  But Guy answered,\n\"God forbid that I should take a wife except she were given me by\nKing Charles himself.\"  When Floripas heard him she changed colour,\nbeing very angry, and said, \"If this be so, then I swear by Mahomet\nthat all these knights shall be hanged on a gibbet.\"  Then said\nRoland to Guy, \"I pray you do this damsel the pleasure that she would\nhave.\"  So Guy consented to her will.  And Floripas said that now she\nhad the thing she most desired, and kissed him, not on the mouth, for\nthat she durst not, being yet a pagan, but upon the cheek and chin.\nAfter this she opened a great chest that she had in her chamber, and\nspread a fair cloth of silk, and on this she laid the crown of thorns\nand the nails with which the Lord's feet were pierced.  \"This,\" she\nsaid, \"is the great treasure which ye have so much desired to see.\"\nThen the knights went up and kissed the Holy Relics reverently, not\nwithout tears.  After this the things were put up again into the\nchest where they had been before.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XX\n\nOF THE DOINGS OF THE FRENCH KNIGHTS\n\nAs the Admiral sat at dinner there came into the hall the chieftain\nwho was named Lucifer, and was a special friend to the Admiral.  He\nsaid, \"Is it true, as I have heard, that Fierabras, your son, who was\nthe very best knight in the whole world, has been overcome and taken\nprisoner?\"  \"It is true,\" answered the Admiral, \"I will not hide the\nthing from you.  A French knight, whom may Mahomet confound, overcame\nhim.  But we have taken five of King Charles's knights; seven other\nknights came hither bearing a very insolent message to me from the\nKing, all these therefore are in prison.  I gave them into the hands\nof Floripas my daughter, and she has shut them up in prison.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" said Lucifer, \"this was not well done of you, to trust these\nprisoners to a woman, for women are apt to change, and to turn from\none thing to another.  If it please you I will go and see in what\ncondition they are.\"\n\nThen said the Admiral, \"That is well counselled; go and see, and when\nyou return make my daughter to return with you.\"\n\nSo Lucifer went, and when he came to the chamber where Floripas was\nhe did not seek to have the door opened to him, but smote it so\nstoutly with his foot that he brake down the bolts and bars.\n\nWhen Floripas saw this she was very wroth, and said to Roland, \"This\nviolence is ill-pleasing to me, Sir Roland, all the more because this\nman that has done it should have been my husband, though I loved him\nnot.  I pray you avenge me of this wrong.\"\n\n\"Be content, fair lady,\" answered Roland, \"this fellow shall be made\nto know of his misdoing ere he depart hence.  Never did he pay so\nmuch for the making of a lock as he shall pay for the breaking of\nit.\"  Meanwhile Lucifer entered the chamber, and coming up to the\nDuke of Naymes, who was bareheaded, took him by the beard, and drew\nhim to himself so roughly that he had well-nigh thrown him to the\nground.  \"Whence come you, old man?\" said he, \"Tell me the truth.\"\nThe Duke told him, \"I am Duke of Naymes, and I am a councillor of\nKing Charles, from whom I have come, with these lords whom you see,\nbringing a message to the Admiral.  And because what we said was not\nto his liking, he has made us prisoners.  But now take your hand from\nmy beard, you have held me long enough.  And be sure that I say not\nall that I think.\"  The pagan answered him, \"May be the Admiral will\nforgive you your folly.  But come, tell me truly of your countrymen,\nhow do they bear themselves, and what games do they play?\"  The Duke\nanswered, \"When the King has dined every man may go where he will.\nSome ride on horses, and some go into the fields, and some play at\nchess or tables.  In the morning every man hears Mass when it is\nsaid; they are wont also to give alms to such as are in need.  And in\nbattle they are not easily to be overcome.\"\n\n[Illustration: BLOWING THE GREAT COAL.]\n\nLucifer said, \"Old man, you dote; these things are naught; say, can\nyour folk blow at the great coal?\"  \"I never heard of the great\ncoal,\" said the Duke.  Then said Lucifer, \"I will teach you the\nmanner of it,\" and he came near to a great fire that was in the\nchamber, Roland making a sign meanwhile to the Duke that he should\nbear with the man's way.  Then Lucifer took the biggest brand that\nwas on the fire, and blew it so strongly that the sparks flew about\nabundantly.  \"And now,\" said he to the Duke, \"You must blow also.\"\nThereupon the Duke took the coal, and blew it so strongly that the\nflame came near to the pagan's face, and burnt his beard.  Lucifer\nwas almost out of his wits for anger, but before he could as much as\nspeak the Duke smote him with the brand upon the neck so strongly\nthat the bone was broken, and the man fell dead upon the floor.  \"By\nmy faith,\" said Roland, \"you can play right well at blowing of the\ncoal.  Now blessed be the arm that struck that blow.\"  The Duke said,\n\"Blame me not, my friends, for ye saw how the man trifled with me.\"\nThen said Floripas, \"Sir, you are worthy of all honour.  Lucifer, I\nreckon, will have no more desire to play with you at the great coal.\nNor will he wish to marry me.  For indeed that was his purpose.\nVerily I had rather died the most villainous death than have had him\nfor my husband.\"\n\nAfter a while Floripas, being a woman of wise counsel, said to the\nknights, \"This Lucifer that is now dead was a man much beloved by my\nfather, who doubtless is even now waiting for him to come to dinner.\nAs soon as it shall be known that he has been slain, you will be\nassailed; and if you be vanquished, not all the gold in the world\nwill redeem you from death.  Arm yourselves, therefore; and, being\narmed, wait not till you are assailed in this place, but issue forth\nand yourselves assail the Admiral's palace, and be sure that you do\nthis in such fashion as to become masters of it.\"\n\nThis counsel seemed good to the Knights.  So they armed themselves,\nand went forth, bold as lions and fierce as hungry wolves, and the\ntime of going forth was the hour that is between day and night.\nFirst of all went Roland, and slew King Corsablis; next came Oliver,\nand he also smote a king, Coldro by name; great was the slaughter,\nfor the Saracens were taken as they sat at meat.  Many were killed\nand not a few leapt from the windows and so perished.  As for the\nAdmiral he escaped most narrowly; for as he leapt from a window\nRoland dealt a great blow at him with his sword, and the sword made a\nhole of a foot deep in the marble stone of the window.  \"Brother,\"\nsaid Oliver, \"the Admiral has escaped from you.\"  \"You say true,\"\nanswered Roland, \"and I am but ill content.\"  But the Frenchmen made\nthemselves masters of the palace, and having shut fast the gates,\nwere safe.  But this was like to trouble them, that they had no meat.\n\nNow the Admiral had lighted in a ditch, and now began to cry to his\nmen that they should draw him out.  And this service Brullant and\nSortibrant did for him.  And when he was drawn out, Sortibrant said\nto him, \"Sir Admiral, did I not say to you that you should not trust\na woman?  See now what has happened.  Another day you had better\nbelieve me.  Keep by the tail of an old dog, and you will not go out\nof the way.\"  The Admiral said, \"Sortibrant, reproach me no more.  I\nwill be avenged of these men before many days be passed.\"  \"That is\nwell,\" answered Sortibrant, \"but now the night is far spent.  I would\ncounsel you to do nothing before the morrow.\"  With this the Admiral\nwas fain to be content.  But he made great lamentation over Lucifer.\n\nAs for the Frenchmen, he vowed that he would drag them at the tails\nof his horses, making sure that they could not hold out, because they\nhad nothing to eat, nor could their King send them any help, \"for,\"\nsaid he, \"all help must needs come over the bridge Mantryble, and\nthat bridge we hold.\"\n\nThe next day the Admiral having assembled a great host, began to\nassail the castle with stones from slings and poisoned darts.  In\nthis way they did but little damage, but the knights and the maidens\nin the castle were sorely pressed for want of food, nor did any one\nsuffer more than Floripas herself, who was grieved not for herself\nonly, but for the knights also, and for the maidens that waited on\nher.  When Guy of Burgundy saw this, he said to his fellows, \"It is\nnow three days since we had any bread.  'Tis a grievous thing to\nendure; and I suffer more for these damsels than for myself.  It were\nbetter to die than to endure this pain.  Let us, therefore, sally\nforth, and get for ourselves some victuals.\"  This counsel pleased\nall the Frenchmen.\n\nBut Floripas said to them: \"Now I see that the God whom you worship\nis of little power, seeing that he suffers you to remain in such\nstraits.  Now, if you had worshipped our gods, they would, beyond all\ndoubt, have furnished you with abundance of meat and drink.\"  Roland\nsaid, \"Madam, let us see your gods.  If they have such power as you\nsay, we will surely worship them.\"  Then Floripas took the keys, and\ntook the French Knights to a place that was under the castle, where\nthe gods were set in great state, Apollo, to wit, and Mahomet, and\nTermagaunt, and Jupiter, and others with them.  Very splendid was the\nplace, and full of gold and jewels.  Guy of Burgundy said, \"Here is\nstore of gold: did King Charles possess this, he could set up the\nchurches that have been overthrown.\"\n\nFloripas said: \"Sir Guy, you spake blasphemy against the gods; do you\nnow worship them, that they may be inclined to help you.\"  Sir Guy\nanswered, \"Madam, I cannot pray to them, for it seems to me that they\nare all asleep and take no heed of what may be said.\"  So saying he\nsmote the image of Jupiter that it fell to the ground, and Ogier the\nDane smote another of the images.  When they were all brought to the\nground, Roland said to Floripas, \"Madam, these gods are of no power\nand avail nothing.\"  After this the maiden believed in them no longer.\n\nAfter these things, Floripas having swooned for trouble and hunger,\nthe knights sallied forth.  And Roland said, \"Now some one must keep\nthe gates that we may be able, when the occasion comes, to enter it\nagain.  Let the Duke Naymes therefore keep it, or Ogier the Dane.\"\nThe Duke said, \"Think you, Sir Roland, that I am of estate so poor\nthat I will serve as your porter?  Assuredly I will not do so.  Old I\nam, but yet I can ride my horse in battle, and my sinews are well\nset, and I have enough of strength to fight my enemies.\"  \"You shall\ndo as you will, Sir Duke,\" said Roland.  No man desired to take the\nplace.  Nevertheless, at the last Thierry abode with Geoffrey to keep\nthe gate.\n\nMeanwhile the Admiral, sitting at a window, saw how the Frenchmen\ncame forth to battle.  He sent, therefore, for Sortibrant and\nBrullant, and said to them, \"I see that the Frenchmen are coming to\nfight.  If they be not all slain, I shall be very ill content.\"  Then\nthe Saracens, of whom there was a great host, assailed the Frenchmen,\nbut could not stand against them.  Roland, having his sword Durendal\nin his hand, did great deeds of valour.  Nor were the knights beaten\nback, even though King Clarion, who was the Admiral's neighbour, came\nto his help with 15,000 men.  That day, therefore, the knights fought\nwith much glory.  And when the battle was ended, there came to them a\nmarvellous good fortune.  For they saw that there passed by the\ncastle twenty beasts laden with provender, bread to wit, and wine,\nand venison, and a store of other victuals.  These were on their way\nto the Admiral, but the French knights straightway slew the escort,\nand drove the beasts into the town.  This thing, however, was not\naccomplished without much toil and trouble.\n\nNow the trouble was this.  The French knights were so hard pressed by\na multitude of Saracens that followed King Clarion that some were\nslain, as the Duke Basyn and Aubrey his son, and that Guy of Burgundy\nwas taken prisoner, his horse having been killed under him.  The\nSaracens blindfolded him and led him away, King Clarion meanwhile\nscoffing at him and saying, \"Cry and bray as you will, my fair\nfriend,\" for Guy called upon God to help him, \"nothing will avail\nyou.  This day I will deliver you to the Admiral, and to-morrow you\nshall be hanged.\"  The Frenchmen did marvels of valour, but they\ncould not stand against the multitude of their enemies, and were\nconstrained to take refuge within the Tower.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXI\n\nOF GUY OF BURGUNDY\n\nThe Frenchmen, being now safe in the Tower, refreshed themselves with\nfood, for they had fasted long, as has been told.  As they sat at\nmeat, came Floripas and said to them, \"Tell me now; where is Guy of\nBurgundy, that was to be my husband?  I saw him sally forth out of\nthe gates with you; has he returned with you?\"  Roland answered her:\n\"Floripas, think not that you will see him again.  The pagans took\nhim out of our hands, notwithstanding all that we could do; and how\nhe will fare in their hands we know not.\"  When Floripas heard these\nwords, she fell down as one dead.  When she came to herself she cried\naloud with a lamentable voice: \"Lords of France, if Guy be not given\nback to me I will give up this Tower to my father before two days are\nover.\"  Then Roland comforted her saying, \"Be not troubled, lady, you\nshall see Sir Guy again in no long time.  This also I say.  You will\nnot bring him back by weeping and lamenting.  Be strong now, and take\ncomfort, and also, for you are weak with long fasting, eat of this\nfood.\"  Then Floripas and her ladies were content, and took something\nto eat.\n\nMeantime Guy was brought before the Admiral.  He was much changed in\nface, being pale and wasted, seeing that he had not eaten for three\ndays.  Also he was troubled to think of the danger in which he stood.\nHe had been spoiled also of his arms.  For all this it was manifest\nthat he was a very gallant knight.  Balan asked him his name and\ncountry.  Guy answered: \"Admiral, I will tell the truth without fear.\nI am Guy of Burgundy, subject to King Charles, and cousin to Roland\nthe Valiant.\"\n\nThe Admiral answered, \"I know you over well, Sir Guy.  For seven\nmonths past my daughter has had great love for you, a thing which is\nmost displeasing to me.  Verily for this cause I have lost many good\nmen, that you and your companions have slain.  But tell me truly who\nare these knights that were with you in the Castle?\"  Then Guy told\nhim the names of the knights, the last of all being the name of Duke\nBasyn.  \"Him,\" said he, \"you have slain, but be assured that you will\npay right dearly for his death.\"  When he said these words, a Saracen\nthat stood by smote him on the mouth so that the blood gushed out.\nThereat Guy was greatly moved with anger, so that he lay hold of the\nSaracen by the hair with one hand and with the other hand smote him\nupon the bone of his neck so fiercely that the man fell down dead\nbefore the Admiral.\n\nAt this deed the Admiral was greatly enraged, and cried out that Guy\nshould be closely bound.  At which word all the Saracens that were in\nthe chamber fell upon him and beat him so sorely that he would have\nbeen shortly slain, but that the Admiral himself cried out that he\nwas not to be put to death in such a fashion.  Then the Saracens\nbound his hands, and the Admiral bade his men fetch Brullant and\nSortibrant and others of his council.  \"Friends,\" said the Admiral,\n\"advise me what I shall do with this prisoner who sets me at nought\nmost shamefully.\"  Sortibrant said, \"I will give you good counsel\nconcerning him.  Set up a gallows-tree near to the moat of the Tower\nin which the French knights abide, and make as if you were going to\nhang this prisoner.  But first cause that a thousand Turks well armed\nand fit for battle be hidden in a secret place near to the said tree.\nBe sure that the Frenchmen, when they shall see that their comrade is\nabout to be hanged will come forth to succour him, and when they be\ncome, then shall your Turks that are in ambush fall on them and take\nthem.\"\n\nThis counsel pleased the Admiral much.  He caused, therefore, the\ngallows-tree to be set up, as Sortibrant had advised, and set the\nTurks in ambush, more than a thousand, that the thing might be made\nmore sure.  After this he bade thirty Saracens lead Guy to the tree,\nbeating him sorely with their staves the while.  His hands were bound\nbehind his back, and there was a great rope about his neck, and he\nknew himself to be in evil case.  He did not cease to commend himself\nto God; also he cried out to the Barons of France, and especially to\nRoland, that they should help him.\n\nNow Roland stood at a window whence he could see the gallows-tree set\nup.  And he said to his comrades, \"What means, think you, this\ngallows-tree that these Saracens are setting up?\"  Then the others\nlooked, and the Duke Naymes said, \"Without doubt they are about to\nhang our comrade Guy of Burgundy.\"  He had scarcely spoken when they\nsaw Guy led by the Saracens, bound and stripped.  Floripas also saw\nthis thing, and cried to the Knights, \"Oh, my lords, will you suffer\nGuy that is your comrade to be thus shamefully done to death before\nyour eyes?  If he perish in this fashion I will leap from this window\nand so die.\"  And she came to Roland and kneeled before him, and\nkissed his feet, and cried to him, \"O, Sir, help this Guy whom I\nlove, or else I am a lost woman.  Arm yourselves, I pray you, and I\nwill cause your horses to be made ready, so, if God pleases, you will\nbe in good time.\"  Then Roland and his fellows armed themselves in\ngreat haste, and went forth from the Tower, and mounted their horses.\nAnd Roland said to them, \"Let us now keep together as much as may be,\nand be ready to help each other as each may be in need, for otherwise\nwe shall hardly win back to this place, for we are but ten in number,\nand they are many.\"\n\nFloripas said, \"My lords, I pray you not to tarry, but first I will\nbring you the Crown of Thorns.\"  So she went to her chamber and\nbrought therefrom the Holy Crown.  This all the knights kissed with\nmuch reverence, and so issued forth from the Tower with a good\ncourage.  When they were gone, Floripas and her damsel lifted the\nbridge and shut fast the gates of the Tower.\n\nThe Frenchmen rode in good order towards the place where, the\ngallows-tree was set up, the Saracens being busied with Guy whom they\nhad now brought thereto, with the rope round his neck.  When Roland\nsaw this, he cried out, \"Hold, traitors; this thing shall not fall\nout as you hope.  You have begun a deed of which you shall surely\nrepent.\"  Thereupon he charged at them with such fierceness that the\nhardiest of them turned to fly; yet they fled not so fast but that\nRoland killed twenty out of the thirty.  When the Saracens that lay\nin ambush saw this, they rose up from the place where they lay hid, a\ncertain Conifer, a pagan of marvellous strength, being their leader.\nThis Conifer cried out, \"Ho, ye French knaves, come you to succour\nthis malefactor?  Verily you shall be hanged along with him.\"  Roland\nwas very wroth to hear such villainous words, and charged fierce as a\nhungry wolf, with his sword Durendal drawn in his hand.  Nor did\nConifer for his part draw back, for he was a great warrior.  He dealt\na great blow on Roland's shield that went nigh to beat it down.\nNevertheless Roland slew him, cleaving his head in twain.  This done\nhe ran to the gallows and cut the cords with which Guy was bound, and\nafterwards stood by him till he had armed himself.  This he did,\ntaking the dead pagan's arms and mounting on his horse.  But this was\nnot easily done, for all the Saracens that had lain in ambush were\ncoming upon them, and they were sore pressed.\n\nBut Guy wrought marvels of valour, as one who having narrowly escaped\nfrom death, fought with great cheerfulness of heart.  Floripas also,\nwho stood at a window of the Tower, saw him, and cried out to him\nthat he should bear himself as a man.  When Ogier the Dane heard\nthis, he said to his comrades, \"Hark to this noble damsel, how\nbravely she bears herself.  We will not go back to the Tower till we\nhave done all that was in our mind to do.\"  Then they charged the\nSaracens yet again; Roland being still in the front, and driving the\npagans before him, for they flew from him on all sides.  Thence the\nFrenchmen made their way to the bridge and so again into the Tower.\n\nWhen the Admiral perceived this, he was much troubled, and asked his\ncounsellors again for advice.  Sortibrant said to him, \"Let every man\nthat is here present make himself ready for battle and let all the\nsiege engines be prepared, and all the trumpeters stand prepared to\nblow a great blast on their trumpets.  The Frenchmen are but few, and\nwhen they shall be aware of this great multitude they will be\novercome with fear.\"  To him Brullant answered: \"My friend, this that\nyou say is but folly.  You will not frighten these Frenchmen in this\nfashion, no, not though we had all the horns and trumpets in the\nworld.  Is not Roland there, the mightiest knight that now lives, who\nslays any man that dares to join in battle with him?  They are all\ngreat warriors, but Roland is of such greatness that if the rest were\nhis match they would drive the Saracens out of Spain.  There is no\nman that could stand against them, and as for our gods, it is long\nsince they have given us any help.\"  The Admiral was very angry to\nhear such talk and would have struck Brullant with his staff, but\nSortibrant held both his arms, \"Let be your anger; we should do\nbetter to take counsel together how we may break down this Tower that\nthe Christians hold.\"\n\nThen the Admiral gathered all his men together, so many in number\nthat they covered the ground a mile every way.  But of more avail\nthan all these multitudes was a certain magician, by name Mahon.  He\nhad two siege-engines of marvellous power, which were so contrived\nthat they who worked them could not be hurt by the enemy.\n\nThus did the Saracens gain possession of the first defences of the\nTower; yet having won them, they could not long hold them, for the\nFrench knights did their part right bravely, hurling down from the\nupper parts stones and darts, and all kinds of missiles, and these so\nstrongly that no man could stand against them.  The maidens also\narmed themselves, and did the like.\n\nBut the magician had yet other devices to use against the Christians.\nHe said to the Admiral, \"Let me have some of your men to wait on me,\nand I will speedily deliver these Christians into your hand.\"  And\nwhen he had made all things ready, he discharged out of his engines\nagainst the walls a fire so marvellous that the very stones began to\nburn.  The Frenchmen were sorely dismayed at this, and began to say\nto each other that they must now surely quit the Tower.  But Floripas\nsaid to them, \"My lords, be not afraid.  I have something wherewith\nto quench the fire.\"  Then she went and took certain herbs, and mixed\nthem in wine, and the knights threw the wine on the fire, and it was\nquenched immediately.\n\nWhen the Admiral saw this he was out of his wits with anger, and when\nSortibrant told him that this was of his daughter's doing, he vowed\nthat she should die an evil death.  Then said Sortibrant, \"Bid your\nhorns and trumpets sound again, and send your men to attack the Tower\nonce more.  By this time the Frenchmen must be so wearied that they\nwill be overcome.  And they have neither stones nor iron to cast at\nus.\"  Thereupon the Saracens made yet another assault on the Tower;\nso fierce was it that the air was as it were dark with arrows and\ndarts and stones, great portions of the walls fell down, and the\nknights were greatly troubled.  \"Now,\" said they, \"we must needs be\nvanquished, for our defence is broken down.\"  But Floripas bade them\nbe of good courage.  \"My lords,\" said she, \"this Tower is yet strong\nenough to hold out.  Besides, though you have no more stone or iron,\nyet my father's treasure is here, wedges and plates of gold,\nwherewith you may slay the pagans as well as with stones, aye and\nbetter too.\"  Thereupon Guy of Burgundy, in great joy, kissed her.\n\nThen Floripas, going to the treasure-house, showed the gold to the\nknights.  This they took and cast against the Saracens, to their\ngreat discomfiture.  Moreover, the Saracens, when they saw the gold,\nleft off fighting against the French, and began to slay each other.\nThe Admiral, when he saw this, cried with a loud voice to his\ncaptains, \"Cease now from the assault, for it turns to my great loss;\nsee now how my treasure which I have gathered with much pains is\nscattered about.  This treasure I had entrusted to the keeping of\nMahomet my god, and see how he has failed me.  Verily, if I could but\nhave him in my hands, he should suffer pains for this!\"  Sortibrant\nsaid to him, \"Be not angry, my lord, with Mahomet.  He has done as\nwell as it lay with him to do; doubtless he was asleep when your\ntreasures were spoiled.  These Frenchmen are so crafty that they can\ndo what they will.\"\n\nThat same night, as the Admiral sat at his supper, Roland spied him\nfrom a window where he lay to rest himself.  He said to his comrades,\n\"I see Balan at his supper with his lords; he is taking his ease, and\nit would be to our great honour if we make him rise up from his\nmeat.\"  The other lords were of the same opinion.  They armed\nthemselves therefore, and issued forth from the Tower.  But the\nAdmiral was aware of their purpose, and he sent against them his\nnephew, Espoulart by name, who was a very strong and valiant knight.\nEspoulart rode against the Frenchmen, and encountering Roland smote\nhim on the shield so great a blow that he was well-nigh stunned, but\nhis flesh was not wounded.  Roland, in his turn, unhorsed him, but\nthe Saracen was so nimble that forthwith he mounted his horse again.\nBut Roland smote him again, and so sharply that the man wist not\nwhere he was.  As he was falling to the ground Roland caught him\nright deftly, and laid him across his horse and carried him away.\n\nWhen the Admiral saw this he cried out in a great rage that they\nshould rescue his nephew.  This the Saracens would willingly have\ndone, but they could not; many were hurt and many slain, and at last\nall the Frenchmen escaped into the Tower.  When they had shut-to the\ngates they asked Floripas who he was that they had taken.  Floripas\nsaid to them, \"This is Balan's nephew, a rich man and a powerful.  If\nye would vex my father, put him to death.\"  The Duke Naymes answered,\n\"Nay, we will not put him to death.  We will keep him, and if should\nhappen that one of us be taken prisoner, we will make an exchange.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXII\n\nOF RICHARD OF NORMANDY\n\nOn a certain day after these things Richard of Normandy said to his\nfellows, \"How long are we to abide shut up in this Tower?  I am sure\nthat at the last we must perish by the hands of these Saracens.  It\nwould be well, therefore, that we send a messenger to King Charles,\ntelling him that if he would not have us perish he must send us\nhelp.\"  The Duke Naymes said, \"This, Sir Richard, is but foolishly\nspoken.  There is no man here that will dare take this message.  Know\nyou not that the whole land is covered with the Saracens, so that as\nsoon as the messenger is parted from us he will be slain by them?\"\nAnd Floripas said, \"My lords, you are safe while you abide in this\nplace; make yourselves, therefore, as happy as you can.\"  But Duke\nThierry was ill-content with such counsel, \"We are shut in here, my\nlords,\" said he, \"and our happiness must be but brief.  Let us inform\nthe King of our condition, that he may come to our help.\"\n\nOgier the Dane answered as the Duke Naymes had answered, that there\nwas no man who would go on such an errand.  \"Nay,\" cried Roland, \"say\nnot so.  I will go.\"  But the Duke Naymes answered, \"That would be\nill done, Sir Roland; you must not go hence; the Saracens would not\nhave so much fear of us by a half as now they have if you were gone.\"\nThen others proffered to go, as William the Scot, and Gerard, and Guy\nof Burgundy, this last being willing with all his heart, but Floripas\nwould not suffer it.\n\nAt last Richard of Normandy spake thus: \"My lords, you know that I am\nnobly born, and that I have a son of full age to bear arms, and fit\nto stand in my place.  Now if it should chance that I am slain in\ntaking this message, this my son would hold my heritage and do\nservice to King Charles.\"  So it was concluded that Richard of\nNormandy should take the message to the King.  Roland said to him,\n\"Sir Richard, promise now that you will not tarry in any place till\nyou come to the King, saving if you should be hurt or taken\nprisoner.\"  And Duke Richard promised it should be so.  Having so\npromised, he said, \"Let us consider now how I may get away from this\nplace unseen of the-men-at-arms, for if they espy me I cannot escape.\"\n\nRoland said, \"My counsel is this.  Let us sally forth from the Tower,\nand assault the Saracens with all our might, and while they are\nbusied with us then shall Duke Richard steal away, for he well knows\nthe country.\"  To this they all agreed, not without tears, for they\nknew that the Duke had taken upon himself a very perilous enterprise.\n\nThe next day, when this thing should have been done, the French lords\nfound that the gates of the Tower were so closely beset by a\nmultitude of Saracens that no man could by any means go forth.  And\nthis was so for the space of two whole months.  At the end of this\ntime, the Admiral having gone a-hunting, and the watch of the bridge\nbeing negligently kept, the knights mounted their horses and issued\nforth.  So soon as they were seen of the Saracens, there was a great\nblowing of horns and trumpets, and a multitude of men ran together to\ndo battle with the knights.  While they were so engaged Duke Richard\nsecretly departed.  After the Duke had ridden awhile, the road being\nvery steep, for it was on the side of a mountain, his horse was\nsorely spent, and he was constrained to halt.  And as he halted two\nof the Saracens, to wit Sortibrant and Brullant, espied him, and said\nto King Clarion, who was a very notable warrior, \"See you, Sire, that\nman yonder.  Of a truth he is one of the Frenchmen that are shut up\nin the Tower yonder.  Without a doubt he is taking a message to\nCharlemagne.  Now, if we do not hinder him in this his journey it may\nwell turn to our great loss.\"  When King Clarion heard this he armed\nhimself without delay, and mounted on his beast--a marvellous beast\nthat could gallop thirty leagues and not grow weary--and pursued\nafter Duke Richard, and other Saracens went with him.\n\nWhen Duke Richard, looking behind him, saw the Saracens following\nhim, he was greatly troubled, for what could one man do against so\nmany?  Nor was it long before the pursuers came up with him, King\nClarion leading them.  The King said, \"By Mahomet, you shall never\ndeliver this message.\"  Duke Richard spoke him fair, \"What trespass\nhave I done?  I have never offended you or taken your treasure.\nSuffer me, therefore, to go in peace.  Render me this service, and be\nsure that I will repay it many fold.\"  But Clarion answered, \"I would\nnot do this, no not for half the treasure of the world.\"\n\nWhen he heard this, Duke Richard turned to meet the enemy.  King\nClarion smote him on the shield, but could not break it through, so\nstiff and strong was it.  But the Duke, on the other hand, smote him\nfull on the neck, and shore off his head cleanly with one blow.  It\nflew a whole spear's length, so great was the stroke.  Then the Duke,\nleaving his own horse, took King Clarion's for himself; never before\nhad he ridden such a horse, so strong was it and so swift.  He could\nhave borne seven knights in armour, and never sweated a drop; as for\nswimming rivers, there never was beast like him.  Then the Duke said\nto his own horse, \"Farewell, my good horse; I am grieved that I\ncannot take thee when I will.  God in heaven help thee to escape\nthese Pagans, and come again into the hands of Christian men, whom\nthou mayst faithfully serve in great straits, even as thou hast\nserved me.\"  So saying he went on his way.\n\nWhen the other Saracens came up and found King Clarion lying dead\nupon the ground they made great lamentation over him.  Some would\nhave taken Duke Richard's horse, but the beast would not suffer them\nto come near him but galloped as fast as he could to the place from\nwhich he had come.  And, indeed, thither he came in a very short\nspace of time.  First the Admiral saw him, and cried aloud, \"Now by\nApollyon my god, this is well done of Clarion my nephew; without\ndoubt he has slain the messenger of the Frenchmen, for see his horse\nis coming.\"  And he bade his men catch the horse.  But this they\ncould not do, for the creature won its way to the gates of the Tower,\nand these the knights opened to receive him, lamenting much, for they\nhad no doubt but that Duke Richard had been slain.  Nevertheless,\nFloripas bade them be of good cheer.  \"Stay your tears,\" she said;\n\"as yet you know not the whole matter.\"\n\nMeanwhile the Saracens that had accompanied King Clarion came back,\nbearing with them the King's body.  When the Admiral saw it he\nswooned, not once only but four times, so that he seemed like to a\ndead man.  The Saracens stood about, and made a great lamentation, so\nthat the Barons began to take heart again, and Floripas, being well\nacquainted with the Saracen tongue, said, \"Now I perceive the truth.\nDuke Richard has slain this man and taken his horse, for indeed there\nis no better horse in all the world.  This lamentation that you hear\nis for this ill fortune.\"\n\nAll the Barons were glad when they heard these words, and Oliver said\nto Roland, \"Now this is good news.  I am sure in my mind that we\nshall safely return home.  I had not been more sure had I been in the\nstrongest castle in all France.  God bless Duke Richard, for he has\nborne himself right bravely.\"  And all the other knights agreed to\nhis speech.\n\nMeanwhile the Admiral called to him one of his favourites, by name\nOrage, saying to him, \"Now take a dromedary and ride with all speed\nto Gallafer that keeps the Bridge of Mantryble, and say to him from\nme, 'You suffered the messengers of King Charles to pass over,\nwhereby I have suffered great damage.  And now there goes a messenger\nto the King from the knights that are shut up in this Tower; wherein\nif you fail, you shall pay for it with your life.'\"  Orage said to\nthe Admiral, \"I will do your bidding with all speed, for I can take\nin one day such a journey as other men take in four.\"  And he\ndeparted forthwith on his dromedary.\n\nWhen he came to the Bridge Mantryble, he said to Gallafer, \"The\nAdmiral is ill content with you, because you suffered the messengers\nof King Charles to cross the bridge.  They have done him great\ndamage, holding his chief Tower, and therein his gods and Floripas\nhis daughter, and have slain many of his servants.  And now there\ncomes a messenger from these same men, who is on his way to\nCharlemagne to seek for help.  Keep him, therefore, from crossing the\nbridge, which thing if you fail to do, you will surely die\nshamefully.\"  When he heard these words, Gallafer, the giant, was\ngreatly enraged, and made as if he would smite Orage with a staff,\nbut they that stood by hindered him.  Then he mounted to the top of\nthe Tower, and sounded his trumpet, so that many thousands of men\nassembled.  Also the drawbridge was lifted.\n\nMeanwhile Duke Richard considered within himself by what means he\nmight cross the bridge, and was in great perplexity, \"for,\" said he,\n\"I do not see how I may win forward, nor may I return, and so fail in\nmy promise to Roland.  Now may God help me in my need.\"  And looking\nabout him, he saw how the whole land was covered with multitudes of\nSaracens, of whom some were now but a little space behind him.  The\nforemost of these called to him with a loud voice, saying, \"Now turn\nyou, Sir Messenger, for your hour is come.\"\n\nDuke Richard was ill content to hear such boasting, and, turning\nhimself quickly, came upon him unawares and smote him so grievously\nthat he fell dead to the earth.  Then he took the Saracen's horse by\nthe bridle and rode down to the river's bank.  And lo! the stream ran\nas swiftly as a bolt from a cross-bow, with a noise like to thunder.\nAnd when he saw this and heard the roaring of the water, he commended\nhimself to God.\n\nWhile he looked, lo! a white hart came to the river-side, and the\nriver, which before had been so much below the bank as a man may\nconveniently cast a stone, began to rise, and so continued till it\ncame to the very top of the bank and even overflowed it.  Thereupon\nthe white hart entered the water, and Richard, commending himself to\nthe protection of God, did the same, and swam safely to the other\nside.\n\nMeanwhile King Charles, being in great trouble about the knights whom\nhe had sent with a message to the Admiral of Spain, called together\nhis counsellors and told them what was in his mind, saying, \"I am\ngreatly troubled because that no report has come to me concerning the\nknights that I sent.  I know not what to do, save that I will put off\nthis crown, which I am not worthy to bear.\"  Said Ganelon, \"My lord,\nI will give you good counsel.  Let us return forthwith to France.\nThis town of Aygremore is too strong for us.  And the Admiral is a\ngreat warrior, and has also all the Saracens and Pagans in the world\nto help him.  And now that Fierabras, his son, has been made a\nChristian by you, he is even more evilly disposed to you than he was\nbefore.  Let us therefore go back to France.  It is true that many\nvaliant peers and knights have perished, but they have left children\nbehind them, and these, when they have grown to man's estate, will do\nthose things wherein their fathers have failed.  So shall we recover\nthe Holy Things, for which, indeed, I feel great sorrow, and avenge\nalso Roland, the good knight whom I am persuaded you will never see\nmore.\"\n\nWhen the King heard this he fell into a swoon for the space of an\nhour.  When he came to himself he asked his lords again for counsel,\nfor he was loath to go back and leave Roland and the other Peers\nwithout help.\n\nBut Ganelon and all that were of his kindred, and all that followed\nhim, gave him the same counsel as before.  \"There are twenty thousand\nof us,\" said Ganelon, \"that have sworn not to go any further.\"  But\nthe King said, \"What shall my crown profit me, if I do this base\nthing, and leave these my knights to perish without help!  He that\ngives me such counsel loves me but little.\"  Then said Reyner, that\nwas father to Oliver, \"Sire, if you listen to these men you will do\nthis realm of France such damage as may never be undone.\"  But Aloys,\none of the friends of Ganelon, answered, \"You lie, Duke Reyner; were\nit not that the King is here, this is the last word that you should\nsay.  For indeed who are you that you take so much upon yourself?\nYour father was a man of low estate.\"  Then Reyner waxed so wroth\nthat he smote Aloys to the ground.  Thereupon there was great tumult\nand quarrelling, and there would have been bloodshed had not the King\nbeen there.  \"For,\" said Charles, \"any man that shall draw sword in\nthis place shall be hanged as a thief, though he be of the highest\nestate.\"  So after a while the King, Fierabras helping, made peace,\nbut \"first,\" said he, \"Aloys that spake so scornfully of Duke Reyner\nmust crave pardon.\"  And this Aloys did, but sorely against his will.\nNevertheless the counsel of those who were for going back prevailed;\nfor Geoffrey of the High Tower, than whom there was no man more\nworshipful in the King's court, was urgent that it should be so.\nThen the King consented, but with much sorrow, and all the nobler\nsort among his lords were greatly troubled that this should be done.\nSo the signal of retreat was given.\n\nScarcely had the army set forth, when King Charles, chancing to cast\nhis eyes eastward, saw one on horseback, with a sword drawn in his\nhand, that was riding with all the speed to which he could put his\nhorse.  Thereupon he called a halt, \"for,\" said he, \"if my eyes fail\nme not, this is Richard of Normandy.  God grant that he brings\ntidings of Roland and of the other Peers!\"\n\nAs soon as Duke Richard was come to where he stood, the King asked\nhim concerning Roland and the Peers.  Then Duke Richard told him that\nthey yet lived; also he told him concerning Floripas and the Holy\nThings, but that the knights were straitly besieged.  \"Can they hold\nout,\" said Charles, \"six days?  If so they shall be delivered.\"  \"It\nmay be,\" answered Richard.  \"But they have no victual save what they\ncan win with their swords; the Admiral also has a mighty host of\nSaracens about the Tower.\"  Also he told him about the bridge\nMantryble, and of the great giant that kept it.  \"This bridge,\" said\nhe, \"we must pass by subtlety, for by force we cannot.  Now I have\ndevised a plan by which this may be done.  Let some of us clothe\nourselves as merchants, having our armour and arms under our cloaks,\nand let the rest hide themselves in a wood hard by, and be ready\narmed for battle.  So when we shall have gained the first gate, I\nwill blow on my horn, and at this signal you shall ride up with all\nthe speed you may.\"\n\nThe King greatly approved this counsel.  Thereupon five hundred\nknights disguised themselves as merchants.  They made great bundles\nof hay and grass, which was to serve as merchandise.  Every man also\nwas well armed under his cloak.  Duke Richard was their leader, and\nwith him was Duke Reyner and others of great repute.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIII\n\nHOW THE BRIDGE MANTRYBLE WAS WON\n\nWhen King Charles and his men had hidden themselves in a wood that\nwas hard by, Duke Richard and his company came to the bridge, driving\npack-horses before them, laden, as has been said, with false\nmerchandise.  But when the knights saw the River Flagot, how swiftly\nit ran and with how great a roaring, and the bridge how perilous it\nwas to pass, and the gates how they were barred with iron, they were\nnot a little troubled.  Richard said, \"I will go before.  Do you\nfollow me, and when you have passed the first gate throw off your\ncloaks and smite with your swords.  And whatever may happen, see that\nyou fail not one another.\"  And to this they all agreed.\n\nGallafer, the keeper of the bridge, stood by the first gate holding a\ngreat axe in his hand that had an edge on every side.  He was a giant\nof great stature, with fiery eyes and skin as black as pitch, more\nlike to a devil than to a man.  The Admiral was his nephew, and loved\nhim greatly, trusting him so that he made him warder of the bridge\nand ruler of all the countryside.\n\nWhen the French knights came near he said to them, \"Strangers, who\nare you?\"  Duke Richard answered, \"We are merchants who travel to the\nfairs, Mahomet helping us, with drapery and other goods for sale.  We\nwould fain tarry awhile at Aygremore; also we have gifts, many and\nprecious, for the Admiral.  These others that you see are my\nservants, and know not your language.  Tell me, therefore, what we\nhad best do and by what way we should go.\"  Gallafer answered, \"Know\nnow that I am appointed by the Admiral of Spain to be keeper of this\nbridge.  And because there have passed over it certain knights who\npaid no toll, and also a messenger who won his way in wonderful\nfashion across the river, and slew also my own kinsman King Clarion,\nmy master has straitly charged me that I should not by any means\nsuffer any man to pass the bridge unless he be known to me.\"  When\nGallafer had said so much, Duke Richard bowed his head to him right\ncourteously, and having so done, passed through the first gate, three\nothers, of whom Duke Reyner was one, following him.\n\nWhen Gallafer saw them he doubted what this might mean.  \"You are\noverbold,\" said he, \"to come so far without leave of me.\"  And he\ndrew up the bridge.  \"And now,\" said he, \"do you four surrender\nyourselves.  I will send you prisoners to my lord the Admiral, who\nwill deal with you as he shall please.  And now let me see what you\nhave under your cloaks, for you seem to me to have some evil design.\"\nWhen he had so spoken he laid hold of one of the four, and turned him\nabout four times.  Then another, Raoul by name, who was cousin to him\non whom Gallafer had laid hands, cried, \"Why do you deal so with my\nkinsmen?\"  And he struck at the giant with his sword, but could not\nhurt him, save to cut off a portion of his ear.  Thereupon the two\ndukes, Reyner and Richard, drawing their swords, smote him with all\ntheir might.  But they also availed nought, for the giant was clad in\nthe skin of a serpent, that was harder than any coat of mail.  The\ngiant, on the other hand, smote at Raoul with his axe.  But Raoul saw\nthe stroke coming, and leapt lightly aside, so that the axe fell and\nhurt him not; but it cleft a stone of marble on which it lighted into\ntwo parts.  Then said Duke Reyner, \"What shall we do with this giant,\nfor a sword avails nothing against him?\"  And he took in his hand the\ngreat branch of a tree, and smote him to the ground.  Thereat the\ngiant made a great and terrible cry, and the Saracens that followed\nhim came running.  Thereupon Richard let fall the drawbridge, and the\nfive hundred sought to pass over it.\n\nBut the Saracens met them at the gate, and there was a great fight,\nwherein many were wounded and many slain.  Then Duke Richard sounded\nhis horn three times.  When King Charles heard it he rose up\nforthwith from his ambush in the wood, and all the Frenchmen with\nhim, and made for the bridge with all the speed they might use.  And\nforemost of all was Ganelon, that was afterwards the traitor.\nForemost he was, and gallantly did he bear himself that day.  King\nCharles also showed himself a good man-at-arms.  They died that day\nwhomsoever he smote with his good sword Joyous.\n\nThe King saw the giant Gallafer on the ground with his great axe in\nhis hand wherewith he had slain thirty Frenchmen, and he commanded\nthat he should be slain, for he yet breathed.  But not yet was the\nbridge won, for a great multitude of Saracens came up to help them\nthat kept it.  Among them was a giant, Amyon by name, who called to\nKing Charles, saying, \"Where is the King?  It were better for him,\ndotard that he is, to be at Paris than here.\"\n\nWhen the King heard this he dismounted in great wrath, and ran at the\ngiant, and smote him with Joyous so rudely that he fell to the ground\nnigh cut in twain.  At this the Saracens were not a little\nconfounded.  Nevertheless, they pressed upon the King and his men\nwith darts and bullets and arrows.  Then the King cried to his lords\nand knights for help.  Many answered his call; nevertheless he was so\nhard pressed that there was scarce any hope left to him.  Then the\nDuke Richard bade him be of good cheer, \"for,\" said he, \"if every man\nwill but do his utmost this day we shall not fail.\"  And he pressed\non, and his comrades with him.  Nor did Ganelon hold back, though\nthere were some that gave him evil counsel, as Aloys, who said to\nhim, \"See, now, how the King is beset.  It were well for us if he\nshould not find deliverance.  Leave him now, and let us go back to\nFrance, where we shall be masters without contradiction from any\nman.\"  But Ganelon answered, \"Now, may God forbid that we should\nbetray our lord, of whom we hold all that we possess.\"  Aloys said,\n\"You are but a fool, seeing that you will not take your revenge when\nyou may.\"  But Ganelon would have none of his counsel.\n\nAs these two were talking, Fierabras came up, being now healed of his\nwounds, and asked where was the King.  Aloys answered, \"He is within\nthe gate, and I take it by this time that he is dead.\"  Fierabras\ncried, \"What do you standing here?  Why do you not help him in his\nneed?\"  And he cried out, \"Come all of you to the help of the King!\"\nand a great multitude of Frenchmen came at his call.  Great deeds did\nFierabras that day, and Ganelon also, so that they two did more than\nany other to win the town.\n\nNevertheless there yet remained something to be done.  For when\nAmyot, the giantess that was wife to Amyon, heard the cry of the\ntownsfolk, she ran forth from her house, having a sharp scythe in her\nhand, and fell upon the Frenchmen in a great rage, and slew many of\nthem.  When King Charles saw what destruction she wrought he called\nfor a cross-bow, and shot a bolt at her, aiming it so nicely that it\nstruck her between the brows and slew her.  It was seen that as she\nlay upon the earth she vomited forth fire from her throat, but she\nnever moved more.\n\nSo the town of Mantryble was won.  King Charles found much treasure\ntherein, which the Admiral had laid up there, trusting that it should\nnever be taken.  Of this he made a bountiful distribution to his\narmy, so that all were well content.  This done, he appointed Havel\nand Raoul to keep the town, with five thousand men under them.  Also\nhe caused all his army to be assembled, and went to the top of a hill\nto survey them.  And when he saw how many there were--for there were\na hundred thousand men--he thanked God that had given him such power.\nAnd he made ready to march against the Admiral.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIV\n\nOF THE END OF BALAN THE ADMIRAL\n\nMeanwhile it was told Balan that Gallafer had been slain and the\nBridge Mantryble taken.  He was as one out of his wits with rage,\nand, crying out to his god Mahomet that he was accursed and recreant,\nhe smote the image with a club that he held in his two hands and\nbrake it down.  Nor was this ill done, seeing that such things are of\nno use or profit.  Nevertheless Sortibrant reproved him, and bade him\nrepent of such injurious deeds.  \"That cannot I do,\" answered the\nAdmiral, \"seeing that this Charles has won my strong city of\nMantryble.\"  Sortibrant said, \"Send a spy, Sir Admiral, that you may\nknow what King Charles is doing; afterwards, let us march together\nagainst him, and if we prevail over him then shall you hang him and\nhis people without mercy, and you shall cut off the head of your son\nFierabras, for the help that he has given your enemies.\"\n\nThis the Admiral said that he would do.  First he humbled himself\nbefore his gods, and vowed that he would offer to them a thousand\npounds of fine gold.  This done, he bade the trumpets sound to gather\ntogether the Saracens.  These brought great engines of war with which\nto throw great stones against the Tower.  And this they did to such\ngood purpose that they made three great breaches in the wall by the\nleast of which a cart might have passed.  But Roland and Oliver stood\nover with their shields and stopped the way.  Then cried the Admiral,\n\"Friends, if you would have my love, do your duty, and bring this\nTower to the ground.  Verily, when I shall have taken it, I will burn\nwith fire this ill daughter of mine, Floripas.\"\n\nWhen they heard these words the Saracens came on more fiercely than\never.  And now the Frenchmen held but the last portion only of the\nTower.  Then Roland bade his comrades fight with good courage, \"or,\"\nsaid he, \"we shall not overlive this day.\"  As for Oliver, he was for\nsallying forth.  \"It were better,\" said he, \"to fall honourably in\nthe midst of our enemies than to be done to death in this place.\"\nAnd Ogier the Dane and other lords were of the same mind.  But\nFloripas would not that they should do this.  \"You promised,\" said\nshe, \"that you would do nothing against my will.  And I bid you stay\nwithin.\"  And this they did, holding the breaches as best they might,\nand driving back the Saracens.\n\nAfter a while Balan saw his daughter where she stood at a window with\ncertain of the knights, and reproached her for her disobedience, and\nthreatened that he would burn her with fire.  But she answered\nnothing, only shook a stick that she had in her hand as if she would\nhave beaten him.  Then the Saracens, at his bidding, assaulted the\nTower yet more fiercely, and the Frenchmen took the idols that were\nin the Tower, images of Apollo and Mahomet and others, and threw them\ndown upon the Saracens to their great damage.  When he saw this Balan\nswooned with rage, but, coming to himself, bade the Saracens assault\nthe Tower yet again with all their might.  And this they did so\nfiercely that the Frenchmen were well-nigh in despair.\n\nWhen they were in this strait the Duke Naymes, going to an upper\nwindow in the Tower, saw the ensign of St. Denis in the valley\nbeneath, and called to his fellows that they also should come and see\nit, \"for,\" said he, \"without doubt the King is coming to help us.\"\nThe Saracens also perceived it; whereupon King Coldro counselled the\nAdmiral that he should send an army to hinder him from coming to\nAygremore.\n\nThat day the King and his army lodged in the open field, for their\ntents they had left at Mantryble.  In the morning the King sent for\nFierabras and said to him, \"Dear friend, now that you have been\nbaptized, I love you better than before.  If, then, your father\nconsents to be baptized and to deny Mahomet and his false gods I will\nestablish him in his kingdom, and take not a penny of his goods.  But\nif he will not, then shall he die without mercy.\"  And he asked\ncounsel of his Peers whom he should send with this message to the\nAdmiral.  Said Richard of Normandy, \"Ganelon would do this errand as\nwell as any man, should he be willing.\"\n\nSo King Charles sent for Ganelon, and gave him the message to be\ndelivered to the Admiral; and Ganelon was well content to go.  He\narmed himself, therefore, and mounted his horse that was named\nGascon, and went his way.  When he came to the valley where the army\nof the Saracens lay, the guards laid hold of him, but perceiving that\nhe carried a message, straightway let him go.  So coming to the tent\nwherein the Admiral abode, he spake with a loud voice: \"The noble\nCharles, King of France, sends this message: If you will renounce\nMahomet and all false gods and receive the true faith, you shall keep\nall your land and worship, and shall be honoured and loved of all\nChristian men.  But if you will not, then you shall surely die.\"  So\nGanelon spoke.  But Balan, when he heard these words, was very wroth,\nand made as if he would strike him.  Then Ganelon drew his sword and\nsmote Brullant where he stood by the Admiral's side, and, leaping on\nhis horse, rode away.\n\nThe Duke Naymes saw him from a window in the Tower, and said to\nRoland and Oliver, \"Who is this knight that rides so fast.\"  They\njudged that he was none other than Ganelon, and Roland cried aloud,\n\"God grant that he fall not into the hands of the enemy.\"  And as he\nspoke, Ganelon turned upon the Saracens, and slew two of them, of\nwhom the brother of King Sortibrant was one.  When Oliver saw this he\nsaid to Roland, \"See you this?  That is a good knight.  I love him in\nmy heart.  Would God I were with him where he is.\"  But when the\nSaracens came near to the army of the King they left chasing Ganelon.\n\nWhen the King knew how his message had sped he commanded that they\nshould set the army in array.  This they did, parting it into ten\ndivisions.  The Saracens also prepared for battle.  And first\nBrullant rode forth and challenged the King to combat; nor did he\nhold back.  So these two met and the King slew Brullant, and many\nother Saracens also.  Nor did the Saracens lack great warriors, such\nas King Tenebres, a famous Turk, who slew John of Pontoise and many\nothers.  But him Duke Richard overthrew; Duke Reyner slew Sortibrant;\nand Balan the Admiral slew Huon of Milan, and went near to slaying\nMilon, but that Ganelon and his men saved him, though not without\nmuch damage to themselves.  Nor, indeed, would they have so prevailed\nbut for the help of Fierabras.\n\nAnd now the knights that were in the Tower, seeing the army of their\ncountrymen, came forth, and taking each man a horse, whose rider had\nbeen slain, charged the Saracens.  These being taken, as it were,\nboth before and behind, fled, as doves fly before a hawk.  And Balan\nfled with them, but being overtaken was made prisoner.\n\nWhen the Admiral was brought to Charles, the King said, \"Will you\nforsake your false gods, who indeed have profited you nothing, and\naccept the true faith?  If you will do so, you shall suffer nothing,\neither in your person or in your goods.\"  \"Nay,\" said the Admiral,\n\"that will I not.\"  Then Charles drew his sword and said, \"If you\nyield not you die.\"  And Fierabras, kneeling down, prayed that his\nfather might be spared.  Then Balan consented to be baptized.\nNevertheless, when he came to the font the evil spirit in him\nrebelled, and he spat in the font, and went near to slaying the\nbishop that should have christened him; for he took him by the\nmiddle, and would have drowned him in the font.  When the King saw\nthis he said, \"Verily this evil-doer must die.\"  Nevertheless\nFierabras entreated him to have patience, and, turning to his father,\nwould have persuaded him even yet to baptism.  \"Nay,\" said Balan,\n\"that will I never do, and you are a fool, my son, to ask such a\nthing.  Would I were on horseback; then would I show these villains\nwhat is in my heart.\"  When the King heard this he said, \"Who will\nslay this fellow?\"  \"That will I,\" answered Ogier the Dane, and he\nsmote off the Admiral's head with a stroke of his sword.\n\nAfter this said Floripas to Roland, \"Sir Knight, remember how you\npromised to help me to that thing which I most desire.\"  Thereupon\nRoland said to Guy of Burgundy, \"Bring to mind the promise which you\nmade to Floripas, the Admiral's daughter, that you would take her to\nwife.\"  \"That will I do right willingly,\" said Guy, \"if the King\nconsent.\"\n\nSo Floripas was baptized, King Charles and Duke Thierry being her\nsponsors, but her name was not changed.  Afterwards the bishop\nmarried her to Guy of Burgundy.  As for Guy he was made King of the\nland; part he gave over to Fierabras, who held it of him; but\nCharlemagne was overlord of the whole country.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXV\n\nHOW GANELON WENT ON AN ERRAND TO KING MARSILAS\n\nFor seven years King Charles the Great tarried in Spain.  He\nconquered the whole land from the sea to the mountains, saving\nSaragossa only, of which Marsilas, a heathen, was King.  Marsilas\ncalled together his nobles, and said to them, \"This King Charles will\nbe our destruction, for we have no longer an army wherewith to meet\nhim.  Give me counsel, as wise men should, so that I may be saved\nfrom death or disgrace.\"\n\nNow the wisest of the heathens was a certain Blancandrin, a man\nvaliant in war and good at counsel.  \"Fear not,\" said he, \"fear not,\nO King.  Send a message to King Charles promising him faithful\nservice and friendship.  Send also a present to him.  Let there be\nlions and bears, and dogs, seven hundred camels, and a thousand\nfalcons.  Send also four hundred mules laden with gold and silver,\nthat King Charles may have wherewithal to pay his soldiers.  And tell\nhim that if he will return to France, you will follow him, and there,\non the Feast of St. Michael, will be converted to the Christian\nFaith, and will be his vassal in all honour.  If he ask for hostages,\nlet him have them, ten or twenty, as he may desire.  See, I offer my\nown son to be one of them, whatever may befall him.  Better that they\nshould lose their heads than that we should lose our lordship and our\nlands, and be brought to beg our bread.\"  And all the chiefs of\nheathenry said: \"It is well; we will willingly give the hostages.\"\n\nBlancandrin spake again: \"By this right hand and by this beard I\nswear that the end of the matter will be this: You will see the\nFrench raise their camp in all haste and go back to their own land.\nOn the Feast of St. Michael King Charles will make a great\nentertainment.  But when he neither sees you nor hears any tidings of\nyou, he will fall into a great rage, and will smite off the heads of\nthe hostages.  If it be so, it is better that they should lose their\nheads than that we should lose this fair land of Spain.\"  And all the\nchiefs of heathenry said: \"It is well said; so let it be.\"\n\nThen said King Marsilas to certain of his lords--ten they were in\nnumber, and these the most villainous of the whole company--\"Take\nolive-branches in your hands, and go and say to King Charles, 'King\nMarsilas prays you to have pity upon him.  He promises that, before a\nmonth is past he will come with a thousand loyal followers, and will\nreceive the faith of Christ, and will become your vassal in all\nhonour.  Also he says, that if you seek for hostages you shall have\nthem.'\"  Then the King gave the ten lords ten white mules, whereon to\nride.  They had reins of gold and saddles of silver.  So the ten\nlords departed from Saragossa, and came to King Charles at the city\nof Cordova.\n\n[Illustration: THE AMBASSADORS OF KING MARSILAS.]\n\nThey found King Charles in great mirth and joyfulness.  He had newly\ntaken the fair city of Cordova, having broken down the walls and\ntowers with his engines of war, and with the city he had taken a\ngreat spoil of gold and silver.  Of the people, too, there was not\none but had to make his choice between Christian baptism and death.\nNow he was sitting with his barons in a great orchard.  Some played\nat cards, and some of the graver sort at chess, and the young men\nfenced with each other.  As for the King himself, he was sitting\nunder a thorn on a great chair of gold, a right noble man to see,\nwith his long, white beard.  When the heathen ambassadors saw him\nthey lighted down from their mules, and paid him homage.  Then said\ntheir leader, Blancandrin, \"Glory to the name of God!  Our master,\nKing Marsilas, bids us say that, being persuaded that the law by\nwhich you live is the law of salvation, he would fain win your favour\neven by the half of his treasures.  He sends therefore lions and\nbears, camels and falcons, four hundred mules laden with gold and\nsilver, wherewith you can pay all your soldiers.  Moreover, he says\nthat when you shall have returned to your own country he will follow\nyou thither, and will be obedient to your law, and do you homage for\nhis kingdom of Spain.\"\n\nWhen King Charles heard these words he bent his head as one deep in\nthought.  So he tarried awhile, for his speech was never hasty.  At\nlast he spoke: \"You have said well.  But your King has long been my\nenemy.  How can I trust these promises?\"  Blancandrin made answer,\n\"You shall have hostages, Sire--ten, fifteen, twenty, as you will.\nMy own son shall be one of them, and the others shall be of the\nnoblest of the land.  So you may rest assured that at the Feast of\nSt. Michael next ensuing my master shall come to you at your palace\nat Aachen, and shall there consent to become a Christian.\"\n\n\"He will do well,\" said King Charles; \"'tis thus only that he shall\nsave his soul.\"  Then he commanded that the white mules should be put\ninto stalls, and that a tent should be pitched in the orchard, and\nthe ambassadors have such entertainment as was meet.\n\nThe day following King Charles rose early, and having heard mass sent\nfor his nobles, for he would do nothing without the counsel of the\nwise men of France.  So the nobles came, Ogier the Dane among them,\nand Turpin the Archbishop, and Count Roland, and with him Oliver, his\nclosest friend, and Ganelon, the same that was the traitor.\n\nThen said the King, \"My lords, King Marsilas has sent an embassy to\nme with many and rich gifts, lions and bears, and camels, and\nabundance of gold and silver.  Only he makes this condition--that I\ngo back to France; and he promises that he himself will come thither,\neven to Aachen, and will there profess himself a Christian and also\ndo homage for his kingdom.  But whether he speaks the truth, that I\nknow not.  What think you, my lords?\"\n\nThen stood up the Count Roland, and said, \"'Twere madness to trust\nthis King Marsilas.  Have we not been in this land of Spain for now\nseven years, and has not this King Marsilas always borne himself as a\ntraitor?  Did he not send fifteen of his heathens each with an\nolive-branch in his hand, and did they not make this same profession\nfor him?  You took counsel of your nobles, and you sent him--so\nill-advised were you--two envoys.  What did King Marsilas?  He took\ntheir heads from them.  What I counsel, Sire, is, that as you have\nbegun this war, so you carry it to an end.  Lead your army to\nSaragossa, lay siege to it, spend, if need be, the rest of your days\nbefore it, but take vengeance for the brave men whom King Marsilas\ndid to death.\"\n\nKing Charles sat with his head bowed, and spake no word good or bad.\nThen rose up Ganelon, and said, \"Sire, I would have you take no\nadvice, except it be to your own advantage.  King Marsilas has sent\nto you, saying that he is ready to profess our faith and to hold the\nkingdom of Spain as your vassal.  He who would have you refuse such\nan offer knows nothing of business affairs.  Counsels of pride are\nnot for mortal men.  Have done with folly, and listen to the words of\nthe wise.\"\n\nThen stood up the Duke of Bavaria; snowy white was his beard and\nhair.  King Charles had no better counsellor than he.  \"Sire,\" said\nhe, \"Ganelon has given you good advice.  You will do well to follow\nit.  You have conquered King Marsilas in this war, taken his castles,\nbroken down his walls, burnt his towns, and put his armies to flight.\nNow he begs for mercy from you.  Surely 'twere a crime to ask too\nmuch.  Remember, too, that he is ready to give you hostages.  Send\none of your nobles to treat with him, for indeed it is time this war\nshould have an end.\"  So spake the Duke of Bavaria, and all the men\nof France cried out, \"The Duke has spoken well.\"\n\n\"But,\" said King Charles, \"whom shall we send?\"  \"I will go,\"\nanswered the Duke, \"if it so please you.  Give me the gauntlet and\nthe staff an ambassador should have.\"   \"Not so,\" said King Charles,\n\"you shall not go.  I would not have so wise a counsellor so far\naway.  Sit you down.  'Tis my command\"; and he spake again, \"Whom\nshall we send to King Marsilas, my lords?\"  \"I will go,\" cried Count\nRoland.  \"Nay,\" said Oliver, \"you are of too fiery and fierce a\nspirit.  I fear that you would but ill-manage such a business.  'Tis\nbetter that I should go, if it so please the King.\"  \"Be silent, both\nof you,\" said the King, \"neither of you shall have a hand in this\nmatter.  By this white beard of mine, I declare that no one of the\nTwelve Peers shall go on this embassage.\"\n\nThen stood up Turpin the Archbishop.  \"Sire,\" said he, \"you have been\nin this land of Spain now seven years, and your nobles have suffered\nfor your sake many labours and sorrows.  Give me the gauntlet and the\nstaff; I will go to this Saracen, and say somewhat to him after my\nown fashion.\"\n\nBut Charles answered him in great anger.  \"By this beard you shall\nnot do it.  Sit you down again, and speak not till I bid you.  And\nnow,\" he went on, \"my lords, choose you for yourselves one who shall\ngo on this errand.  Let him be a man of counsel, who can deal a blow\nalso, if need should be.\"\n\nThen said the Count Roland: \"Whom should we choose but Ganelon?  You\ncannot find a better than he.\"  And all the men of France cried: \"It\nis right that he should go, if the King will have it so.\"\n\nSaid King Charles to Ganelon: \"Come hither, Ganelon, and take this\ngauntlet and this staff.  The voice of the men of France has chosen\nyou.  You heard it.\"  But Ganelon liked not the matter at all.  \"This\nis Roland's doing,\" he cried.  \"Never, so long as I live, will I love\nRoland again, no, nor Oliver, for that he is Roland's friend, nor any\none of the Twelve Peers, for that they also love Roland.  Here, under\nyour eyes, Sir King, I defy them all.\"  \"It profits not to be angry,\"\ncried King Charles.  \"If I bid you, you must go.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" answered Ganelon; \"I perceive that I must go to Saragossa, and\nhe that goes thither comes not back.  Remember, Sire, that I have\nyour sister to wife.  We have one son; a fairer child you could not\nsee.  One day, so he live, he will be a gallant knight.  I leave him\nmy lands.  Have a care for him, I entreat you, for I shall never see\nhim more.\"  \"You have too soft a heart,\" said King Charles.  \"If I\nbid you, you must go.\"\n\nGanelon was in great trouble of mind.  He turned him to Roland, and\nsaid, \"What means your wrath against me?  'Tis you, as all men know,\nthat have put on me this errand to King Marsilas.  'Tis well.  But\nknow that if God suffer me to return, I will bring upon you such\ntrouble and sorrow that you shall remember it all the days of your\nlife.\"  \"This is but folly,\" answered Roland.  \"All the world knows\nthat I care nothing for your threats.  Nevertheless, seeing that\nthere is need of a wise man to take this message of the King's, I am\nready to go in your stead.\"\n\n\"You shall not go,\" answered Ganelon.  \"You are not my vassal, nor am\nI your lord.  I will go to Saragossa, to King Marsilas.  But be sure\nthat there will be something wherewith I may solace myself.\"  When\nRoland heard this he laughed aloud, and Ganelon grew so full of anger\nthat his heart was fain to burst.  \"I hate you,\" said he to\nRoland,--\"I hate you! for you have made this evil choice light on\nme.\"  But to Charles he said.  \"Behold me, Sire, I am ready to do\nyour will.\"\n\n\"Ganelon,\" said the King, \"listen to me.  Say to King Marsilas, that\nif he will come and own himself to be my vassal and receive holy\nbaptism, I will give him half the kingdom of Spain; the other half is\nfor Count Roland.  But if he will not do this thing, then I will lay\nsiege to his city of Saragossa, and when I shall have taken it I will\nbring him by force to my city of Aachen, and will pass judgment on\nhim and he shall end his days in sorrow and shame.  Take this letter,\nwhich bears my seal, and give it into the King's right hand.\"  So\nsaying he reached out the gauntlet to Ganelon with his right hand.\nBut when Ganelon reached out and would have taken it, it fell to the\nground.  \"This is an ill starting,\" said the men of France, \"this\nmessage will be the beginning of many troubles.\"  \"You shall hear of\nthem in good time,\" answered Ganelon.  To King Charles he said,\n\"Sire, give me leave to depart, since I must needs go, 'twere well to\nlose no time.\"  \"Go,\" said the King, \"for our Lord Christ's honour\nand for mine.\"  And with his right hand he made the sign of the\ncross, and gave him absolution.  At the same time he gave him the\nambassador's staff and the letter.\n\nThen Ganelon went to his house and clad himself in his finest armour.\nOn his feet he fixed his spurs of gold, and by his side he bound his\ngood sword Murgleis, and he mounted his charger Tachebrun.  His uncle\nGuinemer held the stirrup for him.  Many gallant knights wept to see\nhim go.  \"O Sir,\" they cried, \"this is an ill return for all the\nservice that you have done to the King.  Never should Count Roland\nhave had such a thought.  Send us, my lord, in your stead.\"\n\n\"Nay,\" answered Ganelon.  \"Why should I doom so many gallant men?\nLet me rather die alone.  Do you, my friends, go back to fair France.\nCarry my greetings to my wife and to my son.  Keep him safe, and see\nthat his possessions suffer no loss.\"  So saying, he went on his way\nto Saragossa.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVI\n\nTHE TREASON OF GANELON\n\nBefore he had travelled far, Ganelon overtook the Saracen\nambassadors, and, indeed, Blancandrin had delayed his journey that\nthis might be so.  Said the Saracen, \"What a wonderful man is your\nKing Charles!  He has conquered Italy, and New Rome and Germany, and\nis ready to lay his hands on England.  But why is he bent on\npersecuting us?\"  \"Such is his will,\" answered Ganelon, \"and there is\nno man of such stature as to be able to contend with him.\"  \"You are\nbrave men, you lords of France,\" said Blancandrin, \"but you serve\nyour master ill when you give him such counsel.  You will bring him\nto destruction, and many others with him.\"  \"Nay,\" said Ganelon.  \"I\nam not one that deserves such blame, nor indeed does any man deserve\nit, except Roland only.  Of a truth this will bring him to shame at\nthe last.  Now listen to me.  The other day the King was sitting\nunder a tree when Roland came to him clad in his cuirass.  He had\ntaken great spoil at the town of Carcassonne.  In his hand he had an\napple.  Take this,\" said he to his uncle the King.  \"As I cast this\napple at your feet so will I cast at your feet the crowns of all the\nKings of the earth.  Such pride must surely have a fall.  Every day\nhe exposes himself to death.  I would that some one would slay him.\nWe shall never have peace but at the price of his life.\"\n\nBlancandrin answered, \"This Roland must be hard of heart if he would\nsubdue every nation and lay his hands upon every country.  But on\nwhom does he count to help him in so vast an enterprise?\"  \"He relies\non the French,\" said Ganelon.  \"There is nothing that he refuses\nthem, neither gold, nor silver, nor chargers, nor mules, nor silk,\nnor armour.  To the King himself he gives as much as he desires.  I\ndoubt not that he will conquer the world even as far as the sun\nrising.\"\n\nThe Saracen cast his eyes on Ganelon, and saw that he was of a fair\ncountenance, but had an evil look.  And Ganelon, when the Saracen's\neyes were upon him, felt his whole body tremble from head to foot.\nBlancandrin said, \"Are you minded to revenge yourself on this Roland?\nIf you be, deliver him up to us.  King Marsilas is a right generous\ngiver, and will willingly share his treasures with you.\"  Thus the\ntwo talked together, and by the time that they came to Saragossa they\nhad agreed together to seek the means by which Roland might come by\nhis death.\n\nThe King of Spain was sitting under a pine-tree on a throne that was\ncovered with silk of Alexandria.  There were thousands of his people\naround him, but not a word was said, so greatly did they all desire\nto hear the tidings that Ganelon and Blancandrin might be bringing\nwith them.\n\nBlancandrin came forward and stood before King Marsilas holding\nGanelon by the right hand, and said, \"In the name of the Prophet,\nhealth, O King.  We delivered your message to King Charles.  He\nlifted his hands to the sky and gave thanks to God, but he made no\nother answer.  Nevertheless he has sent to you one of his chief\nnobles, who is a great man in France.  'Tis from him you will hear\nwhether you will have peace or no.\"  \"Let him speak,\" said the King,\n\"and we will listen.\"\n\nGanelon stood a while, thinking within himself.  Then he began to\nspeak, nor could any one have spoken better.  \"Health, O King, in the\nname of God, the God of Glory, to whom all honour is due.  Hear now\nwhat King Charles commands.  You must receive the Christian Faith.\nThen will he grant unto you half of the land of Spain to be held of\nhim.  The other half he grants to the Count Roland.  Verily you will\nhave a proud companion!  If this please you not, then he will lay\nsiege to Saragossa, will take you captive and carry you to Aachen,\nwhere he has his Imperial Throne.  There shall sentence be pronounced\nupon you, and you will end your days in shame.\"\n\nThe King's face was changed with anger when he heard these words.  He\nhad a gilded staff in his hand, and would have struck Ganelon\ntherewith, but that by good fortune his people held him back.  When\nGanelon saw it, he drew his sword two fingers' breadth out of the\nscabbard.  \"Sword,\" he said, \"thou art fair and bright.  So long as I\nhave thee in my hands the King of France shall not say that I\nperished alone in the land of strangers; no verily, but their best\nwarriors shall have paid for my death with their blood.\"\n\nAnd now King Marsilas had been persuaded to sit down again on his\nthrone.  \"You had put yourself in evil case,\" said his Vizier to him,\n\"had you struck this Frenchman.  Rather you must listen to his words.\"\n\n\"Sire,\" said Ganelon, \"I will put up with this affront, but never\nwill I consent, for all the treasures that there are in this land,\nnay, not for all the gold that God has made, not to speak the words\nthat King Charles has commanded me to speak.\"  And he threw to the\nground his mantle of sable, covered with silk of Alexandria; but his\nsword he kept, holding its hilt in his right hand.  \"This is a noble\nbaron,\" said the heathen chiefs.\n\nThen Ganelon spoke the same words as before, and when he had ended\nthem, he gave King Charles's letter into the King's hand.  Now King\nMarsilas was a scholar, having learnt in the schools of the heathen.\nSo when he had broken the seal of the letter, he read it from end to\nend; and having read it, the tears came into his eyes with rage, and\nhe pulled his beard, and cried with a loud voice, \"Listen, my lords,\nto this foolishness.  Charles, who is King of France, bids me\nremember the two ambassadors whom I beheaded, and commands me, if I\nwould redeem my life, to send him my Vizier.  If I fail in this, he\nwill be my enemy for ever.\"\n\nAll held their peace save the King's son, who cried, \"Ganelon has\nspoken as a fool speaks; verily he deserves to die.  Deliver him to\nme, and I will deal with him.\"\n\nBut Ganelon drew his sword, and stood with his back to a pine.  King\nMarsilas stood up from his throne, and went into the orchard hard by,\nbidding the chief of his counsellors follow him.  When they were\nassembled there, Blancandrin said to the King, \"You do ill to deal\nharshly with Ganelon.  He has pledged his faith to serve us.\"  \"Bring\nhim hither,\" said the King.  So Blancandrin brought him before the\nKing, holding him by the right hand.\n\n\"My lord Ganelon,\" said Marsilas, \"I was ill-advised when in my anger\nI sought to strike you.  I would make amends for the wrong with these\nskins of martens which I have purchased this very day.  They are\nworth more than five hundred pieces of gold.\"  Then the King hung\nthem about Ganelon's neck.  \"I accept them,\" said he; \"may God\nHimself make it up to you for your bounty!\"\n\nSaid the King, \"Believe me, Ganelon, that I greatly desire to be your\nfriend.  Come, now, tell me about Charlemagne.  He is an old man, is\nhe not?  One who has lived his life?  He must be two hundred years\nold.  Over how many countries he has passed! and how many blows has\nhe taken on his shield, and what mighty kings has he brought to beg\ntheir bread!  When, think you, will he be tired of waging war?\nSurely 'tis time that he should be taking rest at Aachen.\"\n\nGanelon answered, \"You do not know King Charles the Great.  No man is\na better knight than he, so say all that know him.  As for myself, I\ncannot praise him enough; I had rather die than cease to be one of\nhis barons.  But for his ceasing to make war, that cannot be so long\nas Roland lives.  There is no such knight in all the East.  A right\nvaliant warrior, too, is Roland's companion, Oliver; right valiant\nare the Twelve Peers also.  Of a truth King Charles need fear no man\nalive.\"\n\n\"But,\" answered the King, \"there is no people that can be compared\nwith mine.  Four hundred thousand horsemen I have with whom to fight\nagainst King Charles and his Frenchmen.\"  \"Yet,\" said Ganelon, \"it is\nnot thus that you will answer him.  Rather will you lose thousands\nand thousands of your soldiers.  Listen now to my counsel.  Give the\nKing money in abundance; give him hostages.  Then he will go back to\nFrance, and so going he will leave behind him his rearguard.  In the\nrearguard I know well will be Roland, his nephew, and Oliver, who is\nRoland's companion.  And being there, they are doomed to die.  So\nwill the great pride of King Charles have a fall.  Never again will\nhe rise to wage war against you.\"\n\n\"Ganelon,\" said the King, \"tell us more plainly yet how I shall slay\nthis Roland.\"  Ganelon answered, \"He and twenty thousand men of\nFrance will be in the rear of the King's army.  It is your part, my\nlord, to gather your whole host.  Send against them first a hundred\nthousand of your Saracens.  I do not deny that they will be\ndestroyed, but, on the other hand, the men of France will receive\ngreat damage.  Then engage them in a second battle.  It is not\npossible that Roland should escape both from one and from the other.\nAnd if he be slain, then you have taken from King Charles his right\nhand.  France will have no more her marvellous armies; never again\nwill King Charles lead such hosts into battle.  So Spain will at last\nhave peace.\"\n\n\"Swear that this shall be,\" said the King; and Ganelon swore that it\nshould be on his sword Murgleis.  Then they brought to the King a\ngreat book in which was written the law of Mahomet, and the King made\na great oath upon it, that if by any means it could be so ordered,\nRoland should die and the Twelve Peers with him.  \"May our purpose be\naccomplished!\" cried Ganelon.\n\nThen the chiefs of the heathen came one after another to Ganelon with\ngifts in their hands.  First came a certain Valdabrun.  \"Take this\nsword,\" he said; \"no man has a better.  The pommel and hilt are worth\na thousand crowns.  Let it be the pledge of our friendship.  Only\nhelp us to bring Roland to his death.\"  \"It shall be done,\" said\nGanelon.\n\nThen came one Chimborin.  \"Take this helmet,\" he said; \"no man has a\nbetter.  See this great carbuncle that glitters on the vizor.  Only\nhelp us to slay Roland.\"  \"It shall be done,\" said Ganelon.\n\nThen came Queen Branimonde.  \"Sir,\" said she, \"I regard you greatly.\nMy lord and all his people much esteem you.  I would send to your\nwife two bracelets.  They are of amethysts, rubies, and gold.  Your\nKing has not, I well know, the like.\"  Ganelon took the bracelets\nfrom her hand, and he stowed them in his riding-boot.\n\nKing Marsilas said to his treasurer, \"Have you made ready the\npresents that I purpose to send to King Charles?\"  The treasurer\nanswered, \"They are ready: seven hundred camels laden with gold and\nsilver, and twenty hostages, the noblest in the land.\"\n\nAnd now the King would bid farewell to Ganelon.  \"I love you much,\"\nsaid he.  \"You shall not fail to have the best of my treasures, if\nyou will only help me against Roland.  Now I give you ten mules'\nburden of gold of Arabia, and every year you shall have the like.\nAnd now take the keys of this city, and give them to King Charles;\nwhen you present these treasures to him deliver to him also these\ntwenty hostages, only see that Roland be put in the rearguard.\"\n\"'Tis my thought,\" cried Ganelon, \"that I tarry here too long.\"\nThereupon he mounted his horse and rode away.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVII\n\nOF THE PLOT AGAINST ROLAND\n\nAnd now King Charles had come on his homeward journey to the city of\nVolterra (Count Roland had taken it and laid it in ruins three years\nbefore).  There he awaited Ganelon and the tribute of Spain, and\nbefore many days had passed the traitor came.  \"Sire,\" said he, \"I\ngreet you in the name of God.  I bring you the keys of Saragossa,\nalso great treasure which King Marsilas has sent you, and twenty\nhostages, the noblest in the land.  King Marsilas also bids me say\nthat he is not to be blamed because he does not send the Vizier.  The\nVizier, with many thousands of armed men, took ship--I saw them with\nmy own eyes--because they were not content to accept the law of\nChrist.  But before they had sailed four leagues, there came suddenly\nupon them a great storm of wind, so that their ships sank.  You will\nnever see them more, for they were all drowned.  As for the King\nhimself, you may rest assured that before this month is spent he will\nfollow you to France, and that he will receive the law of Christ, and\nwill become your vassal holding the kingdom of Spain from you.\"\n\"Thanks be to God for all these blessings,\" cried the King.  And to\nGanelon he said, \"You have served me well, and shall have due\nrecompense.\"\n\nThen the trumpets sounded, and the army went on its way to France.\nThat night the King had a certain dream in his sleep.  He thought\nthat he stood in the pass of Cizra, holding in his hand an ashen\nspear, and that Ganelon laid hold of it and shook it in such a\nfashion that it was broken into a thousand pieces, and the fragments\nflew up to the sky.  After this he had another dream.  He was in his\nchapel at his city of Aachen, and a bear bit him so cruelly on the\nright arm that the flesh was broken even to the bone.  After the bear\nthere came a leopard from the Ardennes, which made as if it would\nattack him.  And lo! a greyhound came forth from the hall, and ran to\nhim with great bounds.  First the greyhound laid hold of the bear by\nthe right ear, and then it assailed the leopard furiously.  \"'Tis a\ngreat fight,\" cried they who stood by, but no one knew who would\nprevail.\n\nThe next day the King called his lords together.  \"You see,\" said he,\n\"these narrow passes.  Whom shall I place to command the rearguard?\nChoose you a man yourselves.\"  Said Ganelon, \"Whom should we choose\nbut my son-in-law, Count Roland?  You have no man in your host so\nvaliant.  Of a truth he will be the salvation of France.\"  The King\nsaid when he heard these words, \"What ails you, Ganelon?  You look\nlike to one possessed.  But tell me--who shall command my vanguard?\"\n\"Let Ogier the Dane be the man,\" answered Ganelon.  \"There is no one\nwho could acquit himself better.\"\n\nWhen Count Roland knew what was proposed concerning him, he spake out\nas a true knight should speak.  \"I am right thankful to you, my\nfather-in-law, that you have caused me to be put in this place.  Of a\ntruth the King of France shall lose nothing by my means, neither\ncharger, nor mule, nor pack-horse, nor beast of burden.\"  \"You speak\ntruly,\" said Ganelon; \"I know it well.\"  Then Roland turned to him\nagain, and said, \"Villain that you are, and come of a race of\nvillainy, did you think perchance that I should let the gauntlet\nfall, as you let it fall when you would have taken it from the King?\"\n\nThen Roland turned to the King and said, \"Give me the bow that you\nhold in your hand.  It shall not fall from my hand as the gauntlet\nfell when Ganelon would have taken it from your hand.\"  The King said\nto Roland, \"Nephew, I will gladly give you the half of my army.  That\nwill provide for your safety without fail.\"  \"Not so, my lord,\"\nanswered Roland, \"I need no such multitude.  Give me twenty thousand\nonly, so they be men of valour, and I will keep the passes in all\nsafety.  So long as I shall live, you need fear no man.\"\n\nThen Roland mounted his horse.  With him were Oliver his comrade, and\nOtho and Berenger, and Gerard of Roussillon, an aged warrior, and\nothers, men of renown.  And Turpin the Archbishop cried, \"By my head,\nI will go also.\"  So they chose twenty thousand warriors with whom to\nkeep the passes.\n\nMeanwhile King Charles had entered the valley of Roncesvalles, his\nvanguard being led by Ogier the Dane.  High were the mountains on\neither side of the way, and the valleys were gloomy and dark.  But\nwhen they had passed through the valley, then they saw the fair land\nof Gascony, and as they saw it they thought of their homes and their\nwives and daughters.  There was not one of them but wept for very\ntenderness of heart.  But of all that company there was none sadder\nof heart than the King himself, when he thought how he had left his\nnephew Count Roland behind him in the passes of Spain.  Duke Naymes,\nwho rode beside him, said, \"What troubles you?\"  \"There is cause\nenough,\" answered Charles.  \"I fear me much that this Ganelon will be\nthe ruin of France.  Did he not cause me to leave Roland behind me in\nthe passes?  And if I lose my nephew when shall I find his like\nagain?\"  And he told the Duke of his dream, how Ganelon had broken\nthe spear that he held in his hands.\n\nAnd now King Marsilas began to gather his army.  He laid a strict\ncommand on all his nobles and chiefs that they should bring with them\nto Saragossa as many men as they could gather together.  And when\nthey were come to the city, it being the third day from the issuing\nof the King's command, they saluted the great image of Mahomet, the\nfalse prophet that stood on the topmost tower.  This done they went\nforth from the city gates.  They made all haste, marching across the\nmountains and valleys of Spain till they came in sight of the\nStandard of France, where Roland and Oliver and the Twelve Peers were\nranged in battle array.\n\nThe nephew of King Marsilas rode to the front of the army and said to\nhis uncle, \"Sire, I have served you faithfully, enduring much labour\nand trouble, fighting many battles, and winning not a few victories.\nAnd now all the reward that I ask is that you suffer me to smite down\nthis Roland.  I will slay him with the point of my spear if Mahomet\nwill help me.  So shall I deliver Spain from the enemy, these\nFrenchmen will give themselves up to you, and you shall have no more\nwars all the days of your life.\"\n\nWhen King Marsilas heard these words, he reached out his hand, and\ngave his gauntlet to his nephew.  Then said the young man, \"You have\ngiven me a noble gift, my uncle.  Now choose me eleven of your\nnobles, and we will fight with the Twelve Peers of France.\"\n\nThe first that came forth to offer himself for the battle was\nFausseron, the King's brother.  \"My lord nephew,\" said he, \"we will\ngo together, you and I--between us we shall win this victory.  Woe to\nKing Charles's rearguard.  We will destroy it to a man.\"\n\nThe next that stood up was Corsablis, King of Barbary.  He was an\nevil man and a treacherous, but that day he spoke as a loyal vassal\nof the King.  \"This is no time,\" he said, \"for drawing back.  If I\nfind Roland, I will attack him without delay.\"  After him rose nine\nother chiefs, till the number of champions was accomplished, twelve\nagainst the Twelve Peers of France.\n\nThe Saracen champions donned their coats of mail, of double substance\nmost of them, and they set upon their heads helmets of Saragossa of\nwell-tempered metal, and they girded themselves with swords of\nVienna.  Fair were their shields to view, their lances were from\nValentia, their standards were of white, blue, and red.  Their mules\nthey left with their servants, and, mounting their chargers, so moved\nforwards.  Fair was the day and bright the sun, as their armour\nflashed in the light and the drums were beaten so loudly that the\nFrenchmen heard the sound.\n\nSaid Oliver to Roland, \"Comrade, methinks we shall soon do battle\nwith the Saracens.\"  \"God grant it,\" answered Roland.  \"'Tis our duty\nto hold the place for the King, and we will do it, come what may.  As\nfor me, I will not set an ill example.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVIII\n\nHOW THE HEATHEN AND THE FRENCH PREPARED FOR BATTLE\n\nOliver climbed to the top of a hill, and saw from thence the whole\narmy of the heathen.  He cried to Roland his companion, \"I hear a\ngreat sound of men coming by way of Spain, and I see the flashing of\narms.  We men of France shall have no small trouble therefrom.  This\nis the doing of Ganelon the traitor.\"\n\n\"Be silent,\" answered Roland, \"till you shall know; say no more about\nhim.\"\n\nOliver looked from the hilltop, and saw how the Saracens came on.  So\nmany there were that he could not count their battalions.  He\ndescended to the plain with all speed, and came to the array of the\nFrench, and said, \"I have seen more heathen than man ever yet saw\ntogether upon the earth.  There are a hundred thousand at the least.\nWe shall have such a battle with them as has never before been\nfought.  My brethren of France, quit you like men, be strong; stand\nfirm that you be not conquered.\"  And all the army shouted with one\nvoice, \"Cursed be he that shall fly.\"\n\nThen Oliver turned to Roland, and said, \"Sound your horn, my friend,\nCharles will hear it, and will return.\"  \"I were a fool,\" answered\nRoland, \"so to do.  Not so; but I will deal these heathen some mighty\nblows with Durendal my sword.  They have been ill-advised to venture\ninto these passes.  I swear that they are condemned to death one and\nall.\"\n\nAfter a while, Oliver said again, \"Friend Roland, sound your horn of\nivory.  Then will the King return, and bring his army with him, to\nour help.\"  But Roland answered again, \"I will not do dishonour to my\nkinsmen, or to the fair land of France.  I have my sword; that shall\nsuffice for me.  These evil-minded heathen are gathered together\nagainst us to their own hurt.  Surely not one of them shall escape\nfrom death.\"  \"As for me,\" said Oliver, \"I see not where the\ndishonour would be.  I saw the valleys and the mountains covered with\nthe great multitude of Saracens.  Theirs is, in truth, a mighty\narray, and we are but few.\"  \"So much the better,\" answered Roland.\n\"It makes my courage grow.  'Tis better to die than to be disgraced.\nAnd remember, the harder our blows the more the King will love us.\"\n\nRoland was brave, but Oliver was wise.  \"Consider,\" he said,\n\"comrade.  These enemies are over-near to us, and the King over-far.\nWere he here, we should not be in danger; but there are some here\nto-day who will never fight in another battle.\"\n\nThen Turpin the Archbishop struck spurs into his horse, and rode to a\nhilltop.  Then he turned to the men of France, and spake: \"Lords of\nFrance, King Charles has left us here; our King he is, and it is our\nduty to die for him.  To-day our Christian Faith is in peril: do ye\nfight for it.  Fight ye must; be sure of that, for there under your\neyes are the Saracens.  Confess, therefore, your sins, and pray to\nGod that He have mercy upon you.  And now for your soul's health I\nwill give you all absolution.  If you die, you will be God's martyrs,\nevery one of you, and your places are ready for you in His Paradise.\"\n\nThereupon the men of France dismounted, and knelt upon the ground,\nand the Archbishop blessed them in God's name.  \"But look,\" said he,\n\"I set you a penance--smite these pagans.\"  Then the men of France\nrose to their feet.  They had received absolution, and were set free\nfrom all their sins, and the Archbishop had blessed them in the name\nof God.  After this they mounted their swift steeds, and clad\nthemselves in armour, and made themselves ready for the battle.\n\nSaid Roland to Oliver, \"Brother, you know that it is Ganelon who has\nbetrayed us.  Good store he has had of gold and silver as a reward;\n'tis the King Marsilas that has made merchandise of us, but verily it\nis with our swords that he shall be paid.\"  So saying, he rode on to\nthe pass, mounted on his good steed Veillantif.  His spear he held\nwith the point to the sky; a white flag it bore with fringes of gold\nwhich fell down to his hands.  A stalwart man was he, and his\ncountenance was fair and smiling.  Behind him followed Oliver, his\nfriend; and the men of France pointed to him, saying, \"See our\nchampion!\"  Pride was in his eye when he looked towards the Saracens;\nbut to the men of France his regard was all sweetness and humility.\nFull courteously he spake to them: \"Ride not so fast, my lords,\" he\nsaid; \"verily these heathen are come hither, seeking martyrdom.  'Tis\na fair spoil that we shall gather from them to-day.  Never has King\nof France gained any so rich.\"  And as he spake, the two hosts came\ntogether.\n\nSaid Oliver, \"You did not deem it fit, my lord, to sound your horn.\nTherefore you lack the help which the King would have sent.  Not his\nthe blame, for he knows nothing of what has chanced.  But do you,\nlords of France, charge as fiercely as you may, and yield not one\nwhit to the enemy.  Think upon these two things only--how to deal a\nstraight blow and to take it.  And let us not forget King Charles's\ncry of battle.\"  Then all the men of France with one voice cried out,\n\"Mountjoy!\"  He that heard them so cry had never doubted that they\nwere men of valour.  Proud was their array as they rode on to battle,\nspurring their horses that they might speed the more.  And the\nSaracens, on their part, came forward with a good heart.  Thus did\nthe Frenchmen and the heathen meet in the shock of battle.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIX\n\nTHE BATTLE\n\nThe first that rode forth from the array of the heathen was \u00c6lroth,\nnephew to King Marsilas.  Good were his arms, and his horse was both\nswift and strong.  Grievous were the reproaches that he uttered\nagainst the men of France.  \"Are you come,\" said he, \"ye robbers of\nFrance, to fight with us to-day?  Know ye not that he who should have\nhelped you has betrayed you?  Verily, a fool was your Emperor to\nleave you in these passes, for the honour of fair France has perished\nto-day, and the great Charles has lost, as it were, the right arm\nfrom his body.  So shall Spain have peace at last.\"\n\nRoland heard these words with great grief in his heart.  He spurred\nhis steed with spurs of gold, and smote the heathen warrior with all\nhis might.  He brake his shield in twain, and severed the mail of his\nhauberk, and clave his body into two parts.  A mighty stroke it was,\nand Roland cried aloud as he dealt it, \"Learn now, thou wretch, that\nKing Charles knows well what he does.  He loves not treason or\ntraitors.  It was well done of him to leave us in these passes.\nFrance shall have no loss of honour this day.  Strike, men of France,\nstrike!  The first blood is for us; these dogs of heathen shall\nsuffer for their misdeeds.\"\n\nThen came forth a Duke from the host of the Saracens, brother to King\nMarsilas, Fausseron by name.  Never was a man on the earth more\ninsolent and villainous.  When he saw that his nephew was dead it cut\nhim to the heart.  He rushed out of the crowd, and, shouting out the\nbattle-cry of the heathen, hurled himself on the ranks of France.\n\"Fair France,\" said he, \"shall lose her honour this day.\"  Great was\nthe rage of Oliver when he heard these mischievous words.  He struck\nhis spurs of gold into his charger's flanks, and smote Fausseron with\na right knightly blow.  His shield he shore in twain, and burst the\nlinks of his hauberk, and hurled him dead from his saddle.  \"Lie\nthere,\" he said.  \"Who cares for thy threats, thou coward!\"  And,\nturning to the Frenchmen, he cried, \"Strike, friends, strike! and we\nshall conquer the enemy.  _Mountjoy!_  'Tis the King's own\nbattle-cry!\"\n\nThen came forth another King, Corsablis by name.  From the distant\nland of Barbary he came.  He cried to his fellows in the army of the\nheathen, \"Easily can we bear up the battle.  Few are these Frenchmen,\nand of no account.  Not a man of them shall escape, nor shall Charles\ntheir King help them.  Verily the day has come for them to die.\"\nTurpin the Archbishop heard him--not one was there in all the heathen\nhost whom Turpin more hated--and charged him, spear in hand, and bore\nhim dead to the ground.\n\nFull many of the heathen warriors fell that day.  Not one of the\nTwelve Peers of France but slew his man.  But of all none bare\nhimself so valiantly as Roland.  Many a blow did he deal to the enemy\nwith his mighty spear, and when the spear was shivered in his hand,\nfifteen warriors having fallen before it, then he seized his good\nsword Durendal, and smote man after man to the ground.  Red was he\nwith the blood of his enemies.  Red was his hauberk, red his arms,\nred his shoulders, aye, and the neck of his horse.  Not one of the\nTwelve lingered in the rear, or was slow to strike, but Count Roland\nwas the bravest of the brave.  \"Well done, Sons of France!\" cried\nTurpin the Archbishop, when he saw them lay on in such sort.\n\nNext to Roland for valour and hardihood came Oliver, his companion.\nMany a heathen warrior did he slay, till at last his spear was\nshivered in his hand.  \"What are you doing, comrade?\" cried Roland,\nwhen he was aware of the mishap.  \"A man wants no staff in such a\nbattle as this.  'Tis the steel and nothing else that he must have.\nWhere is your sword Hautclere, with its hilt of gold and its pommel\nof crystal?\"  \"On my word,\" said Oliver.  \"I have not had time to\ndraw it; I was so busy with striking.\"  But as he spake he drew the\ngood sword from its scabbard, and smote a heathen knight, Justin of\nthe Iron Valley.  A mighty blow it was, cleaving the man in twain\ndown to his saddle--aye, and the saddle itself with its adorning of\ngold and jewels, and the very backbone also of the steed whereon he\nrode, so that horse and man fell dead together on the plains.  \"Well\ndone!\" cried Roland; \"you are a true brother of mine.  'Tis such\nstrokes as this that makes the Emperor love us.\"\n\nNevertheless, for all the valour of Roland and his fellows the battle\nwent hardly with the men of France.  Many lances were shivered, many\nflags torn, and many gallant youths cut off in their prime.  Never\nmore would they see mother and wife.  It was an ill deed that the\ntraitor Ganelon wrought when he sold his fellows to King Marsilas!\n\nAnd now there befell a new trouble.  King Almaris, with a great host\nof heathen, coming by an unknown way, fell upon the rear of the host\nwhere there was another pass.  Fiercely did the noble Walter that\nkept the same charge the new-comers, but they overpowered him and his\nfollowers.  He was wounded with four several lances, and four times\ndid he swoon, so that at the last he was constrained to leave the\nfield of battle, that he might call the Count Roland to his aid.  But\nsmall was the aid which Roland could give him or any one.  Valiantly\nhe held up the battle, and with him Oliver, and Turpin the\nArchbishop, and others also; but the lines of the men of France were\nbroken, and their armour thrust through, and their spears shivered,\nand their flags trodden in the dust.  For all this they made such\nslaughter among the heathen that King Almaris, who led the armies of\nthe enemy, scarcely could win back his way to his own people, wounded\nin four places and sorely spent.  A right good warrior was he; had he\nbut been a Christian but few had matched him in battle!\n\nHe came to King Marsilas, where he stood among his princes, and fell\nat his feet; for indeed there was no strength left in him.  \"To\nhorse!\" he cried, \"my lord, to horse!  You will find the men of\nFrance worn out with the slaughter that they have wrought among us.\nTheir spears are shivered and their swords broken; a full half of\nthem are dead, and they that are left have no strength remaining in\nthem.  It will cost you but little to take vengeance for the\nmultitudes whom they have slain.  Believe me, my lord, these\nFrenchmen are ready to be conquered.\"\n\nThen King Marsilas bade his host advance.  A mighty army it was,\ndivided into twenty columns, and the trumpets sounded the charge.\nNever was heard such a din in the land!  \"Oliver, my comrade,\" said\nRoland, when he heard it, \"this traitor Ganelon has sworn our death.\nBut if he compass it, surely our King will take a terrible vengeance.\nBut as for us, we must do our duty as good knights, for verily this\nbattle will be no child's play.  Strike thou with thy sword\nHautclere, and I will strike with my sword Durendal.  Many a time\nhave we wielded them side by side; many a victory have we won with\nthem.  Verily if we fall this day, these pagans shall not despise us.\"\n\nThe Archbishop, on his part, spake words of comfort to his people.\n\"Let no one think of flight,\" he said; \"never shall these heathen\nmake songs upon us.  'Tis better far to die in battle.  And if we\ndie, as well may be, there is this of which I can assure you: the\ngates of Paradise shall be open to you.  To-morrow, if so it be, you\nshall have a place among the saints.\"  Then the men of France took\nfresh courage and made themselves ready for the battle.\n\nKing Marsilas said to his people, \"Listen to me.  This Roland is a\ngreat warrior; it will be no easy thing to conquer him.  One battle\nwe have fought against him and not prevailed; now will we fight\nanother; if need be, and you will follow me, we will fight even a\nthird.  Of these twenty columns ten shall set themselves in array\nagainst the men of France, and ten shall remain with me.  As I live,\nbefore this day is over, the power of King Charles shall be broken.\"\nSo saying he gave a banner, richly embroidered, to the Emir\nGrandoigne; \"Lead your men against the French,\" said he; \"this shall\nbe your warrant from me.\"\n\nSo the King abode where he was on the hilltop, but Grandoigne\ndescended into the plain, having his banner carried before him.  \"To\nhorse!\" he cried, and the trumpets sounded, and the host moved on to\nthe battle.  And the French cried when they saw it, \"Now what shall\nwe do?  Curses on this traitor Ganelon, who has sold us to the\nheathen!\"  But Turpin the Archbishop bade them be of good courage.\n\"Bear you as men!\" said he, \"and God shall give you the crown of\nglory in Paradise.  Only know that into Paradise a coward can in\nnowise come.\"  \"So be it,\" said the men of France, \"we are few\nindeed, but we will not fail of our duty.\"\n\nThe first to charge from out of the ranks of the heathen was\nChimborin, the same that had given to Ganelon the helmet with the\ngreat carbuncle on the vizor.  His horse, Barbemouche by name, was\nswifter than a sparrow-hawk or a swallow.  He rode at full speed,\nlevelling his lance at Engelier the Gascon, and smote him through\nshield and hauberk so stoutly that the spear stood out of his body on\nthe other side.  \"These Frenchmen are easy to conquer,\" he cried.\n\"Strike, comrades, strike, and break their rank!\"  But all the\nFrenchmen cried out, \"This is a grievous thing that so brave a\nwarrior should be slain!\"\n\nSaid Roland to Oliver, \"Comrade, see Engelier the Gascon is slain; we\nhad no braver knight in the host.\"  \"God grant that I may avenge\nhim,\" answered Oliver, and struck spurs into his horse.  In his hand\nwas his trusty sword Hautclere, its blade red with blood.  Therewith\nhe smote Chimborin so mighty a blow that he slew both man and horse.\nNext he slew the Duke Alphais.  Eight other Arab warriors he struck\ndown from their saddles, and in such sort they would never join in\nthe battle any more.  \"My comrade is in a goodly rage,\" cried Roland;\n\"these are the blows that make King Charles love us.  Strike, men of\nFrance, strike and cease not!\"\n\nThe next that rode forth was the Emir Valdabrun, the same that had\ngiven to Ganelon the sword.  He was a great ruler of the sea.  Four\nhundred ships he had, and there was not a sailor but complained of\nhis robberies.  The same had taken by treachery, and slain the\nPatriarch of Antioch with the sword.  This man smote Duke Samson,\nbreaking with his spear both shield and hauberk, and so did him to\ndeath.  \"So shall all these wretches perish,\" he cried.  And the men\nof France were sorely dismayed.\n\nWhen Roland saw that the Duke Samson was dead, he rode fiercely at\nValdabrun, and smote him so mightily with his great sword Durendal\nthat he clave in twain helmet, head, and body, and saddle, and the\nvery backbone of the horse, so that both fell dead together, both man\nand horse.\n\nAfter this Malquidant, son of King Malquid of Africa slew Ansol.  Him\nthe Archbishop speedily avenged.  Never priest that sang mass was so\nsturdy a warrior as he.  With one blow of his good Toledo sword he\nslew the African.  \"He smites sore, does the Archbishop!\" cried all\nthe men of France when they saw the deed.\n\nAfter this Grandoigne who was the leader of the host of heathen\nentered the battle.  Five knights, valiant men of war all of them, he\nslew one after the other, so that the men of France cried, \"How fast\nthey fall, these champions of ours!\"\n\nRoland heard the cry, and it went near to break his heart, so great\nwas his wrath.  He rode straight at Grandoigne, and these two met in\nthe middle space between the hosts.  Among the heathen no man was\nbraver or better at arms than Grandoigne, but he was no match for\nRoland.  They had scarce met in the shock of battle when Roland with\none mighty blow cleft him to his saddle, aye, and slew the horse on\nwhich he rode.  Many other valiant deeds he wrought that day, nor did\nOliver lag behind, nor Turpin the Archbishop, riding on the famous\nhorse which he took from the King of Denmark.  But though these and\nothers also bore themselves right bravely, such was the multitude of\nthe Saracens that in the end it carried all before it.  Four times\ndid the host of the Saracens advance, four times did the Frenchmen\nbeat it back.  But when it advanced for the fifth time, things went\nill for the Christians.  Great was the price at which they sold their\nlives; but scarcely threescore were left.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXX\n\nHOW ROLAND SOUNDED HIS HORN\n\nCount Roland saw how grievously his people had suffered and spake\nthus to Oliver his comrade: \"Dear comrade, you see how many brave men\nlie dead upon the ground.  Well may we mourn for Fair France, widowed\nas she is of so many valiant champions.  But why is our King not\nhere?  O Oliver, my brother, what shall we do to send him tidings of\nour state?\"  \"I know not,\" answered Oliver.  \"Only this I know--that\ndeath is to be chosen rather than dishonour.\"\n\nAfter a while Roland said again, \"I shall blow my horn; King Charles\nwill hear it, where he has encamped beyond the passes, and he and his\nhost will come back.\"  \"That would be ill done,\" answered Oliver,\n\"and shame both you and your race.  When I gave you this counsel you\nwould have none of it.  Now I like it not.  'Tis not for a brave man\nto sound the horn and cry for help now that we are in such case.\"\n\"The battle is too hard for us,\" said Roland again, \"and I shall\nsound my horn, that the King may hear.\"  And Oliver answered again,\n\"When I gave you this counsel, you scorned it.  Now I myself like it\nnot.  'Tis true that had the King been here, we had not suffered this\nloss.  But the blame is not his.  'Tis your folly, Count Roland, that\nhas done to death all these men of France.  But for that we should\nhave conquered in this battle, and have taken and slain King\nMarsilas.  But now we can do nothing for France and the King.  We can\nbut die.  Woe is me for our country, aye, and for our friendship,\nwhich will come to a grievous end this day.\"\n\nThe Archbishop had perceived that the two were at variance, and\nspurred his horse till he came where they stood.  \"Listen to me,\" he\nsaid, \"Sir Roland and Sir Oliver.  I implore you not to fall out with\neach other in this fashion.  We, sons of France, that are in this\nplace, are of a truth condemned to death, neither will the sounding\nof your horn save us, for the King is far away, and cannot come in\ntime.  Nevertheless, I hold it to be well that you should sound it.\nWhen the King and his army shall come, they will find us dead--that I\nknow full well.  But they will avenge us, so that our enemies shall\nnot go away rejoicing.  And they will also recover our bodies, and\nwill carry them away for burial in holy places, so that the dogs and\nwolves shall not devour them.\"\n\n\"You say well,\" cried Roland, and he put his horn to his lips, and\ngave so mighty a blast upon it, that the sound was heard thirty\nleagues away.  King Charles and his men heard it, and the King said,\n\"Our countrymen are fighting with the enemy.\"  But Ganelon answered,\n\"Sire, had any but you so spoken, I had said that he spoke falsely.\"\n\nThen Roland blew his horn a second time; with great pain and anguish\nof body he blew it, and the red blood gushed from his lips; but the\nsound was heard yet further than at first.  The King heard it, and\nall his nobles, and all his men.  \"That,\" said he, \"is Roland's horn;\nhe never had sounded it were he not in battle with the enemy.\"  But\nGanelon answered again: \"Believe me, Sire, there is no battle.  You\nare an old man, and you have the fancies of a child.  You know what a\nmighty man of valour is this Roland.  Think you that any one would\ndare to attack him?  No one, of a truth.  Ride on, Sire, why halt you\nhere?  The fair land of France is yet far away.\"\n\nRoland blew his horn a third time, and when the King heard it he\nsaid, \"He that blew that horn drew a deep breath.\"  And Duke Naymes\ncried out, \"Roland is in trouble; on my conscience he is fighting\nwith the enemy.  Some one has betrayed him; 'tis he, I doubt not,\nthat would deceive you now.  To arms, Sire! utter your war-cry, and\nhelp your own house and your country.  You have heard the cry of the\nnoble Roland.\"\n\nThen King Charles bade all the trumpets sound, and forthwith all the\nmen of France armed themselves, with helmets, and hauberks, and\nswords with pummels of gold.  Mighty were their shields, and their\nlances strong, and the flags that they carried were white and red and\nblue.  And when they made an end of their arming they rode back with\nall haste.  There was not one of them but said to his comrade, \"If we\nfind Roland yet alive, what mighty strokes will we strike for him!\"\n\nBut Ganelon the King handed over to the knaves of his kitchen.  \"Take\nthis traitor,\" said he, \"who has sold his country.\"  Ill did Ganelon\nfare among them.  They pulled out his hair and his beard and smote\nhim with their staves; then they put a great chain, such as that with\nwhich a bear is bound, about his neck, and made him fast to a\npack-horse.\n\nThis done, the King and his army hastened with all speed to the help\nof Roland.  In the van and the rear sounded the trumpets as though\nthey would answer Roland's horn.  Full of wrath was King Charles as\nhe rode; full of wrath were all the men of France.  There was not one\namong them but wept and sobbed; there was not one but prayed, \"Now,\nmay God keep Roland alive till we come to the battlefield, so that we\nmay strike a blow for him.\"  Alas! it was all in vain; they could not\ncome in time for all their speed.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXI\n\nHOW OLIVER WAS SLAIN\n\nCount Roland looked round on the mountain-sides and on the plains.\nAlas! how many noble sons of France he saw lying dead upon them!\n\"Dear friends,\" he said, weeping as he spoke, \"may God have mercy on\nyou and receive you into His Paradise!  More loyal followers have I\nnever seen.  How is the fair land of France widowed of her bravest,\nand I can give you no help.  Oliver, dear comrade, we must not part.\nIf the enemy slay me not here, surely I shall be slain by sorrow.\nCome, then, let us smite these heathen.\"\n\nThus did Roland again charge the enemy, his good sword Durendal in\nhis hand; as the stag flies before the hounds, so did the heathen fly\nbefore Roland.  \"By my faith,\" cried the Archbishop when he saw him,\n\"that is a right good knight!  Such courage, and such a steed, and\nsuch arms I love well to see.  If man be not brave and a stout\nfighter, he had better by far be a monk in some cloister where he may\npray all day long for our sins.\"\n\nBut Roland cried again, \"Strike home, men; have no mercy on these\nheathen dogs.\"  So saying he charged the enemy, and on the other side\nKing Marsilas came out to meet him.  A great warrior was he, and his\nhorse was fleeter than a falcon.  First he slew Beuvon of Burgundy,\nand Ivan, and Gerard and other two: five knights he met, five he\nslew, but the sixth was the Count Roland himself.  \"Curse upon you!\"\ncried the Count; \"you have slain my comrades; verily you shall not go\nscatheless hence.\"  Thereupon with one blow he smote off his right\nhand, and with another he shore off the head of the king's son\nJurfalew.  \"Help us, Mahomet!\" cried the heathen.  \"How these\nvillains fight!  They die rather than fly from the field of battle!\"\nAnd King Marsilas, throwing down his shield upon the ground, fled\nfrom out the battle, and thousands fled with him, crying aloud,\n\"Verily, the nephew of King Charles has won the day.\"\n\nBut alas! though the King fled, the Caliph remained.  He was King of\nCarthage and of the whole land of Ethiopia.  Chief of the black race\nwas he, and a mighty man of valour.  Fifty thousand warriors followed\nhim; blacker than ink were they all, and with nothing that was white\nabout them save only their teeth.  \"We have but a short time to\nlive,\" cried Roland, when he saw the new host advancing to the\nbattle.  \"But cursed would he be that does not sell his life dearly!\nStrike, comrades, strike!  Let what will befall us, France shall not\nsuffer disgrace.  When the King shall come to see this field of\nbattle, for one of us that he shall find dead there shall be full\nfifteen of the Saracens.  He cannot but bless us for such valour.\"\nAnd Oliver cried aloud, \"Ill luck to all laggards!\"  And the men of\nFrance that remained threw themselves upon the enemy.\n\nBut the heathen, when they saw how few they were, took fresh courage.\nAnd the Caliph, spurring his horse, rode against Oliver and smote him\nin the middle of his back, making his spear pass right through him.\n\"That is a shrewd blow,\" he cried; \"I have avenged my friends and\ncountrymen upon you.\"\n\nThen Oliver knew he was stricken to death, but he would not fall\nunavenged.  With his great sword Hautclere he smote the Caliph on his\nhead and cleft it to the teeth.  \"Curse on you, pagan.  Neither your\nwife nor any woman in the land of your birth shall boast that you\nhave taken a penny's worth from King Charles!\"  But to Roland he\ncried, \"Come, comrade, help me; well I know that we two shall part in\ngreat sorrow this day.\"  Roland came with all speed, and saw his\nfriend, how he lay all pale and fainting on the ground and how the\nblood gushed in great streams from his wound.  \"I know not what to\ndo,\" he cried.  \"This is an ill chance that has befallen you.  Truly\nFrance is bereaved of her bravest son.\"  So saying he went near to\nswoon in the saddle as he sat.  Then there befell a strange thing.\nOliver had lost so much of his blood that he could not any more see\nclearly or know who it was that was near him.  So he raised up his\narm and smote with all his strength that yet remained to him on the\nhelmet of Roland his friend.  The helmet he cleft in twain to the\nvizor; but by good fortune it wounded not the head.  Roland looked at\nhim and said in a gentle voice, \"Did you this of set purpose?  I am\nRoland your friend, and have not harmed you.\"  \"Ah!\" said Oliver, \"I\nhear you speak, but I cannot see you.  Pardon me that I struck you;\nit was not done of set purpose.\"  \"It harmed me not,\" answered\nRoland; \"with all my heart and before God I forgive you.\"  And this\nwas the way these two friends parted at the last.\n\nAnd now Oliver felt the pains of death come over him.  He could no\nlonger see nor hear.  He clomb down from his horse, and laid himself\nupon the ground, and clasping his hands lifted them to heaven and\nmade his confession.  \"O Lord,\" he said, \"take me into Paradise.  And\ndo Thou bless King Charles and the sweet land of France.\"  And when\nhe had said thus he died.  And Roland looked at him as he lay.  There\nwas not upon earth a more sorrowful man than he.  \"Dear comrade,\" he\nsaid, \"this is indeed an evil day.  Many a year have we two been\ntogether.  Never have I done wrong to you; never have you done wrong\nto me.  How shall I bear to live without you?\"  And again he swooned\nwhere he sat on his horse.  But the stirrup held him up that he did\nnot fall to the ground.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXII\n\nHOW ARCHBISHOP TURPIN DIED\n\nWhen Roland came to himself he looked about him and saw how great was\nthe calamity that had befallen his army.  For now there were left\nalive to him two only, Turpin the Archbishop and Walter of Hum.\nWalter had but that moment come down from the hills where he had been\nfighting so fiercely with the heathen that all his men were dead; now\nhe cried to Roland for help.  \"Noble Count, where are you?  I am\nWalter of Hum, and am not unworthy to be your friend.  Help me\ntherefore.  For see how my spear is broken and my shield cleft in\ntwain, my hauberk is in pieces, and my body sorely wounded.  I am\nabout to die; but I have sold my life at a great price.\"  When Roland\nheard him cry he set spurs to his horse and galloped to him.\n\"Walter,\" said he, \"you are a brave warrior and a trustworthy.  Tell\nme now where are the thousand valiant men whom you took from my army.\nThey were right good soldiers, and I am in sore need of them.\"\n\n\"They are dead,\" answered Walter; \"you will see them no more.  A sore\nbattle we had with the Saracens yonder on the hills; they had the men\nof Canaan there and the men of Armenia and the Giants; there were no\nbetter men in their army than these.  We dealt with them so that they\nwill not boast themselves of this day's work.  But it cost us dear;\nall the men of France lie dead on the plain, and I am wounded to the\ndeath.  And now, Roland, blame me not that I fled; for you are my\nlord, and all my trust is in you.\"\n\n\"I blame you not,\" said Roland, \"only as long as you live help me\nagainst the heathen.\"  And as he spake he took his cloak and rent it\ninto strips and bound up Walter's wounds therewith.  This done he and\nWalter and the Archbishop set fiercely on the enemy.  Five-and-twenty\ndid Roland slay, and Walter slew six, and the Archbishop five.  Three\nvaliant men of war they were; fast and firm they stood one by the\nother; hundreds there were of the heathen, but they dared not come\nnear to the three valiant champions of France.  They stood far off,\nand cast at the three spears and darts and javelins and weapons of\nevery kind.  Walter of Hum was slain forthwith; and the Archbishop's\narmour was broken, and he wounded, and his horse slain under him.\nNevertheless he lifted himself from the ground, still keeping a good\nheart in his breast.  \"They have not overcome me yet\"; said he, \"as\nlong as a good soldier lives, he does not yield.\"\n\nRoland took his horn once more and sounded it, for he would know\nwhether King Charles were coming.  Ah me! it was a feeble blast that\nhe blew.  But the King heard it, and he halted and listened.  \"My\nlords!\" said he, \"things go ill for us, I doubt not.  To-day we shall\nlose, I fear me much, my brave nephew Roland.  I know by the sound of\nhis horn that he has but a short time to live.  Put your horses to\ntheir full speed, if you would come in time to help him, and let a\nblast be sounded by every trumpet that there is in the army.\"  So all\nthe trumpets in the host sounded a blast; all the valleys and hills\nre-echoed with the sound; sore discouraged were the heathen when they\nheard it.  \"King Charles has come again,\" they cried; \"we are all as\ndead men.  When he comes he shall not find Roland alive.\"  Then four\nhundred of them, the strongest and most valiant knights that were in\nthe army of the heathen, gathered themselves into one company, and\nmade a yet fiercer assault on Roland.\n\nRoland saw them coming, and waited for them without fear.  So long as\nhe lived he would not yield himself to the enemy or give place to\nthem.  \"Better death than flight,\" said he, as he mounted his good\nsteed Veillantif, and rode towards the enemy.  And by his side went\nTurpin the Archbishop on foot.  Then said Roland to Turpin, \"I am on\nhorseback and you are on foot.  But let us keep together; never will\nI leave you; we two will stand against these heathen dogs.  They have\nnot, I warrant, among them such a sword as Durendal.\"  \"Good,\"\nanswered the Archbishop.  \"Shame to the man who does not smite his\nhardest.  And though this be our last battle, I know well that King\nCharles will take ample vengeance for us.\"\n\nWhen the heathen saw these two stand together they fell back in fear\nand hurled at them spears and darts and javelins without number.\nRoland's shield they broke and his hauberk; but him they hurt not;\nnevertheless they did him a grievous injury, for they killed his good\nsteed Veillantif.  Thirty wounds did Veillantif receive, and he fell\ndead under his master.  Roland stood alone, for the heathen had fled\nfrom his presence, alone and on foot.  Fain would he have followed\nafter the enemy; but he could not.  Then he bethought him of the\nArchbishop; when he looked, he saw him laid upon the plain.  He\nunlaced his helmet and took the corslet from off him, and bound up\nhis wounds with strips of his shirt of silk, and taking him in his\narms laid him down softly on the grass.  This done, he said to him,\n\"Dear friend, suffer me to leave you awhile.  All our comrades, the\nmen whom we loved so much, are dead.  Yet we must not leave them\nlying where they are.  Listen then.  I will go and seek for their\nbodies, and I will bring them hither, and set them in order before\nyou.\"  \"Go,\" said the Archbishop, \"and come back as soon as you may.\nThe field is left to me and to you.  Thanks be to God for the same!\"\n\nThen Roland went to seek his comrades.  Alone he went, and passed\nover all the field of battle.  He searched the mountains, he searched\nthe valley.  There he found the dead bodies of Gerier and of Engelier\nthe Gascon, of Berenger and of Otho; and of others also.  All the\nPeers of France he found where they lay.  Then he carried them one by\none and set them all on their knees before the Archbishop.  Turpin\ncould not choose but weep when he saw these brave comrades dead.  He\nraised his hand and gave them his blessing.  \"Friends,\" said he, \"an\nevil fate has overtaken you in this world; may the God of glory\nreceive you in the world to come!\"\n\nNow Roland went again and searched the plain till he found the body\nof his comrade Oliver.  Under a thorn he found it, and he raised it\ntenderly in his arms, and brought it back to where the Archbishop\nsat, and put it hard by the other Peers of France.  And Turpin gave\nhim also blessing and absolution.  This done, Roland said with many\ntears, \"Oliver, my brave comrade, never was there a better knight\nthan you to break a lance, and shatter a shield, to give good counsel\nto the brave, and to put to shame traitors and cowards.\"  And when he\nhad said this he looked round on that fair company of the dead, and\nhis heart failed within him.  Such goodly knights they were, and so\ndear to him, and now they were gone.  And he fell in a swoon upon the\nground.\n\n[Illustration: ON THE FIELD OF RONCESVALLES.]\n\nWhen the Archbishop saw him fall he reached out his hand and laid\nhold of the horn.  There was a spring of water in the place, and he\nwould fain give a draught to his comrade.  Gathering all that he had\nof strength together, he lifted himself from the ground, stumbling\nand staggering he went, but his strength did not suffice for the\ntask; before he had gone the length of a furlong he fell staggering\nto the ground, and the agony of death came upon him.\n\nRoland came out of his swoon and lifted himself from the ground.  He\nlooked down and he looked up, and lo! on the other side of his dead\ncomrades, stretched on the green grass, lay the great prince, the\nArchbishop.  His life was well-nigh spent.  \"I have sinned,\" he said,\nand he clasped his hands and lifted them to heaven, and prayed to God\nthat he would take him into Paradise.  And with these words he died.\nThis was the end of Turpin.  Never was there a man who dealt with the\nheathen with mightier blows or weightier discourse.  May the blessing\nof God be upon him!\n\nWhen Roland saw that the Archbishop was dead, his heart was sorely\ntroubled in him.  Never did he feel a greater sorrow for comrade\nslain, save Oliver only.  \"Charles of France,\" he said, \"come as\nquickly as you may, many a gallant knight have you lost in\nRoncesvalles.  But King Marsilas, on his part, has lost his army.\nFor one that has fallen on this side there has fallen full forty on\nthat.\"  So saying he turned to the Archbishop; he crossed the dead\nman's hands upon his breast and said, \"I commit thee to the Father's\nmercy.  Never has man served his God with a better will, never since\nthe beginning of the world has there lived a sturdier champion of the\nfaith.  May God be good to you and give you all good things!\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXIII\n\nTHE DEATH OF ROLAND\n\nNow Roland felt that death was near at hand.  In one hand he took his\nhorn, and in the other his good sword Durendal, and made his way the\ndistance of a furlong or so till he came to a plain, and in the midst\nof the plain a little hill.  On the top of the hill in the shade of\ntwo fair trees were four marble steps.  There Roland fell in a swoon\nupon the grass.  There a certain Saracen spied him.  The fellow had\nfeigned death, and had laid himself down among the slain, having\ncovered his body and his face with blood.  When he saw Roland, he\nraised himself from where he was lying among the slain and ran to the\nplace, and, being full of pride and fury, seized the Count in his\narms, crying aloud, \"He is conquered, he is conquered, the famous\nnephew of King Charles!  See, here is his sword; 'tis a noble spoil\nthat I shall carry back with me to Arabia.\"  Thereupon he took the\nsword in one hand, with the other he laid hold of Roland's beard.\nBut as the man laid hold, Roland came to himself, and knew that some\none was taking his sword from him.  He opened his eyes but not a word\ndid he speak save this only, \"Fellow, you are none of ours,\" and he\nsmote him a mighty blow upon his helmet.  The steel he brake through\nand the head beneath, and laid the man dead at his feet.  \"Coward,\"\nhe said, \"what made you so bold that you dared lay hands on Roland?\nWhosoever knows him will think you a fool for your deed.\"\n\nAnd now Roland knew that death was near at hand.  He raised himself\nand gathered all his strength together--ah me! how pale his face\nwas!--and took in his hand his good sword Durendal.  Before him was a\ngreat rock, and on this in his rage and pain he smote ten mighty\nblows.  Loud rang the steel upon the stone; but it neither brake nor\nsplintered.  \"Help me,\" he cried, \"O Mary, our Lady.  O my good\nsword, my Durendal, what an evil lot is mine!  In the day when I must\npart with you, my power over you is lost.  Many a battle I have won\nwith your help; and many a kingdom have I conquered, that my Lord\nCharles possesses this day.  Never has any one possessed you that\nwould fly before another.  So long as I live, you shall not be taken\nfrom me, so long have you been in the hands of a loyal knight.\"\n\nThen he smote a second time with the sword, this time upon the marble\nsteps.  Loud rang the steel, but neither brake nor splintered.  Then\nRoland began to bemoan himself, \"O my good Durendal,\" he said, \"how\nbright and clear thou art, shining as shines the sun!  Well I mind me\nof the day when a voice that seemed to come from heaven bade King\nCharles give thee to a valiant captain; and forthwith the good King\ngirded it on my side.  Many a land have I conquered with thee for\nhim, and now how great is my grief!  Can I die and leave thee to be\nhandled by some heathen?\"  And the third time he smote a rock with\nit.  Loud rang the steel, but it brake not, bounding back as though\nit would rise to the sky.  And when Count Roland saw that he could\nnot break the sword, he spake again but with more content in his\nheart.  \"O Durendal,\" he said, \"a fair sword art thou, and holy as\nfair.  There are holy relics in thy hilt, relics of St. Peter and St.\nDenis and St. Basil.  These heathen shall never possess thee; nor\nshalt thou be held but by a Christian hand.\"\n\nAnd now Roland knew that death was very near to him.  He laid himself\ndown with his head upon the grass, putting under him his horn and his\nsword, with his face turned towards the heathen foe.  Ask you why he\ndid so?  To shew, forsooth, to Charlemagne and the men of France,\nthat he died in the midst of victory.  This done he made a loud\nconfession of his sins, stretching his hand to heaven.  \"Forgive me,\nLord,\" he cried, \"my sins, little and great, all that I have\ncommitted since the day of my birth to this hour in which I am\nstricken to death.\"  So he prayed; and, as he lay, he thought of many\nthings, of the countries which he had conquered, and of his dear\nFatherland France, and of his kinsfolk, and of the good King Charles.\nNor, as he thought, could he keep himself from sighs and tears; yet\none thing he remembered beyond all others--to pray for forgiveness of\nhis sins.  \"O Lord,\" he said, \"who art the God of truth, and didst\nsave Daniel Thy prophet from the lions, do Thou save my soul and\ndefend it against all perils!\"  So speaking he raised his right hand,\nwith the gauntlet yet upon it, to the sky, and his head fell back\nupon his arm and the angels carried him to heaven.  So died the great\nCount Roland.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXIV\n\nHOW CHARLEMAGNE SOUGHT VENGEANCE\n\nNot many hours after these things King Charles came to Roncesvalles.\nIt was a grievous sight that he saw; there was not a foot of earth on\nwhich there lay not the body of some Frenchman or heathen.  And the\nKing cried aloud, calling the dead men by name.  \"Where are you,\nRoland?\" he said; \"and you, Oliver?\"  All the Twelve Peers whom he\nhad left behind to guard the passes he called, but no man answered.\nCharles wept for sadness of heart, and his nobles wept with him;\nthere was not one of all that company but had lost son or brother or\ncomrade or friend.  Then spake up the Duke Naymes, \"Sire,\" said he,\n\"see you that cloud of dust, two leagues away?  'Tis the dust of a\ngreat multitude, even of the heathen army.  Ride, Sire, and take\nvengeance for these warriors whom you have lost.\"  \"What!\" answered\nthe King, \"are they already so far?  Then must we make haste, for\nthey have robbed me of the very flower of France.\"  Then he turned to\nhis nobles, and called four by name, and said to them, \"Guard this\nfield, these valleys and these hills.  Let the dead lie as they are,\nbut take good care that no beast of the field touch them, nor any\nfollower of the camp.  Make sure that no one lay a hand upon them\ntill I come back.\"  And the four answered, \"So will we do, Sire;\" and\nthe King left with them a thousand horsemen for a guard.\n\nThis done, he made haste to pursue the army of the heathen.  The day\nwas drawing to sunset, but yet he overtook the enemy before darkness\nfell.  Some say that God wrought a great miracle for the King,\nstaying the sun in the heaven, till he should have avenged him of his\nenemies.  Be that as it may, this is certain, that he overtook the\nSaracens and slew them with a great slaughter.  Many fell by the\nsword, and they who escaped the sword threw themselves into the\nriver, the river Ebro, and thus perished by drowning.  And the men of\nFrance cried, mocking them, \"You have seen Roland; but it has not\nturned to your good.\"\n\nAnd now the night came on, and the King said, \"We must think of our\ncamp; 'tis over-late to return to Roncesvalles.\"  \"It is well,\"\nanswered his nobles.  So they unsaddled their horses, and laid\nthemselves down on the green grass and slept.  None kept watch that\nnight.  As for the King, he lay down to rest in a certain meadow, his\nspear by his pillow, for he would not be far from his arms.  His good\nsword Joyous was on his side.  It was a marvellous weapon, for it had\nin its hilt the iron of the spear with which the side of the Lord\nChrist was pierced as He hung upon the cross.  For a time the King\nthought with tears about the good knights whom he had lost, Roland\nhis nephew, and many another who had fallen on his field.  But at\nlast his weariness overcame him, and he slept.  And as he slept he\ndreamed two dreams.  In the first dream he saw how there gathered a\ngreat tempest in the heavens, with thunders and lightnings and hail\nand wind, and how this fell upon his army, and how the lances caught\nfire, and how the shields glowed with heat, and the corslets rattled\nwith the stroke of the hail.  After this he saw how a multitude of\nwild beasts, bears, and leopards, and snakes, and monsters such as\ngriffins rushed upon the host as to devour them.  And he heard the\nmen cry, \"Help us, King Charles, help us!\"  But when he would have\ngone to help them a great lion out of the forest flew on him.  Then\nhe and the great beast wrestled together.  But who prevailed, he knew\nnot.  He did not wake from his sleep, but his dream was changed.  And\nthe second dream that he dreamed was this: He thought he was at his\npalace at Aachen, and that he sat upon steps, holding a bear that was\nbound with a double chain.  And in his dream he saw how that there\ncame out of the forest of Ardennes thirty other bears who spake each\nwith the voice of a man.  \"Give him back to us, Sire,\" they said.\n\"It is not right that you should keep him so long.  He is our\nkinsman, and we must help him.\"  And then--this was his dream--a fair\ngreyhound came and attacked the greatest of these wild beasts.  But\nwho was the conqueror in this conflict also, he could not see.  After\nthis King Charles awoke from his sleep.\n\nMeanwhile King Marsilas came in his flight to Saragossa.  He gave his\nsword and his armour to his servants, and laid himself down in sore\ndistress upon the green grass under an olive-tree.  He had lost his\nright hand, and was faint with the bleeding.  Loudly did his Queen\nBranimonde lament over him.  As for his servants they cursed King\nCharles and the land of France, and vehemently reproached their god\nApollyon.  \"Villain of a god!\" they cried, \"why dost thou put us to\nsuch shame?  Why dost thou so confound our King?  This is an ill\nreturn to those who do thee honour.\"  So saying they took from the\ngod his sceptre and crown, and brake him to pieces with their staves.\nNever before was a god so ill-treated of his worshippers.\n\nThen said the Queen to herself, in the midst of her tears, \"Now a\ncurse upon these gods who have failed us in the day of battle.  We\nhave the Emir only who can help us.  Surely he cannot be so base as\nnot to fight against these men of France!\"  So King Marsilas sent an\nambassador praying him for help.  \"Of a truth,\" he said, \"if you fail\nme I will cast away my gods, and take upon me the faith of Christ,\nand make peace with King Charles.\"\n\nWhen the Emir heard this he gathered together the people of his four\nkingdoms, and put them on board a fleet of ships, and set forth to\nsea.  Quickly did they come to the land of Spain; nor did they halt\ntill they came to the city of Saragossa.  Then the servants of the\nEmir spread on the grass a carpet of white silk, and on it they set\nan ivory chair.  The Emir sat upon it, and his chiefs stood round\nabout.\n\n\"Listen!\" said the Emir, \"This Charles has troubled the land of Spain\ntoo long.  I will attack him in his own country, even in France.\nNothing shall hinder me from bringing him to my feet or slaying him.\"\nAnd as he spake he struck his knee with the gauntlet of his right\nhand.  Then he called to him two of his chiefs and said, \"Go now to\nKing Marsilas and say to him: I come to help you against the men of\nFrance.  Come and pay me homage, and I will make war upon King\nCharles, even in his own land of France.  Verily if he do not fall at\nmy feet and beg for pardon, and renounce the faith of Christ, I will\ntear his crown from his head.  Take him also, for a token, this\ngauntlet and this staff of gold.\"  And all his nobles cried, \"It is\nwell said.\"\n\nSo the two envoys went, carrying, one the gauntlet and the other the\nstaff.  When they had passed through the gates of Saragossa, they saw\na great multitude of men lamenting.  \"The gods have dealt ill with\nus,\" said they; \"our King is wounded to the death, and his son is\ndead, and Spain will be the prey of the Christian dogs.\"  When they\nwere come to the palace they made their salutations, saying,\n\n\"Now may Apollyon and Mahomet have King Marsilas and Queen Branimonde\nin their keeping!\"  \"Nay,\" said the Queen, \"what folly is this?  Our\ngods have deserted us.  See what they suffered to befall the King my\nhusband.\"  The envoy answered, \"A truce to such words!  The Emir our\nmaster bade us say, 'I will deliver King Marsilas; as for this\nCharles, I will attack him in his own land of France.  This gauntlet\nand this staff he sends for a proof of his words.'\"  Queen Branimonde\nmade answer, \"You have no need to go to France.  Here in this land of\nSpain you may meet King Charles, and of a truth you will find him a\ngreat warrior.\"\n\nThen said the King, \"You see, my lords, that I am in evil case.  I\nhave none to come after me, neither son nor daughter.  A son I had\nbut yesterday, but the Count Roland slew him.  Say to your master for\nme, I yield you this land of Spain; only guard it against the\nChristians!  And bid him come to me; I will give him useful counsel\nabout King Charles; and take him the keys of this city of Saragossa.\nAs for Charles he is encamped by the river Ebro, seven leagues hence.\nThere will the Emir find him, for of a truth the men of France will\nnot refuse the battle.\"\n\nThen the envoys returned to the Emir, and told him all that\nhappened--how King Charles had left Roland and the Peers to guard the\npasses, and how they had been slain, and what great loss King\nMarsilas had suffered, and how he yielded to him the whole land of\nSpain, and how King Charles and his men were in camp by the Ebro.\nThen the Emir commanded his men that they should make ready for the\nmarch.  \"Make haste,\" he said, \"or these Frenchmen will escape us.\"\n\nMeanwhile King Charles had made search for the body of his nephew,\nthe Count Roland, and for the others that had fallen with him.  And\nwhen these had been found, he caused that the rest should be buried\nwith great honour, but three of the bodies, Roland, to wit, and\nOliver, and Turpin the Archbishop, he commanded to be set aside.  The\nhearts of these three were taken out of their bodies and wrapped in\nsilk, and then enclosed in coffins of white marble.  But the bodies\nwere wrapped in deer-skins, with store of spices, and set each in a\ncarriage, that they might be taken to the town of Blois.\n\nWhen these things had been done, there came two envoys from the Emir,\nbearing this message.  \"The Emir brings against you a great army from\nthe land of Arabia.  Take heed, therefore, for he will make proof of\nyou to-day, whether you are indeed a man of courage.\"\n\nThe King made no answer to these words, save that he cried to his\nmen, with a loud voice, \"To arms!  To arms!\"  Then without delay he\narmed himself, donning his corslet and lacing his helmet, and taking\nin his hand his good sword Joyous, and when he had mounted his good\nsteed he rode forth in front of his army.  \"Never was more kingly\nman!\" said all the army.  And the King said, as he looked upon the\narmy, \"Who would not trust such men?  If only these heathen stand\ntheir ground, surely they shall pay dearly for the death of Roland.\"\n\"God grant it be so!\" said the Duke Naymes.  Then the King called to\nhim two lords: \"You shall take the place of Roland and Oliver; one of\nyou shall carry the sword, and one the horn.\"  And after this he set\nhis whole army in array.\n\nMeanwhile the envoys of the Emir returned to him.  \"We have seen King\nCharles,\" they said.  \"He is brave, and brave are they that follow\nhim, nor will they fail the King.  You will have to do battle with\nthem.  Therefore arm yourself.\"  \"That is good news for all that are\nof a good courage,\" said the Emir.  \"Sound the trumpets, that my\npeople may make themselves ready.\"  A mighty warrior was he, with\ndeep chest and broad shoulders, over which his hair fell in curls,\nwith fair face and shining eyes; of his courage he had given proofs\nwithout number.  What a gallant knight he had been, were he but a\nChristian man!  He had a sword of renown, which he called Precious,\nand a great bear-spear, Matt\u00e9 by name.  A gallant knight also was the\nPrince Malprime, his son.  \"Forward, Sire,\" said the Prince to his\nfather.  \"Shall we see King Charles to-day?\"  \"Yes,\" answered the\nEmir, \"for he is a brave man, and all speak of him with honour.\nNevertheless, now that he has lost the Count Roland his nephew, he\ncan scarcely hold his ground before us.  Yet we shall have a great\nbattle to fight.\"  \"Be it so,\" said the Prince.  \"I ask from you the\nhonour of striking the first blow.\"  \"It shall be yours,\" said the\nEmir.\n\nThen the Emir set his battle in array, so that the two hosts stood\nover against each other.  There was neither hill nor valley nor\nforest between them; each was in full sight of the other.  Splendid\nand terrible they were to view, so brightly shone the helmets and\nbucklers and shields and spears.  And bright and clear was the sound\nof the trumpets; but the brightest and clearest of all was the horn\nof Charles the great King.  And first the Emir rode forth in front of\nhis army.  \"Follow me!\" he cried to his army, \"I will show you the\nway.\"  And he brandished his spear, turning the point towards the\nKing of France.  And King Charles, on his part, when he saw the Emir,\nand his standard, the Dragon, borne after him, cried with a loud\nvoice, \"Lords of France, you have fought many battles, and now there\nis yet one more for you to fight.  See, then, this host of heathens.\nMany they are in number.  But what matters the multitude of them?\nFollow me!\"  Thereupon he spurred his charger.  The good steed\nbounded forward, and all the men of France cried out, \"A brave man is\nour King; not one of us will fail him.\"  The first that dealt a blow\nto the enemy was the Count Rabel.  Spurring his horse, he charged\nTorlen, the King of Persia, and struck his shield fairly with his\nspear.  The good steel pierced shield and corslet, and the King fell\ndead upon the field.  \"Strike! strike for Charles and the Right!\"\ncried all the men of France when they saw the Persian fall.\n\nOn the other side the Prince Malprime, son to the Emir, rode forward\non his white horse, charging into the midst of the army of France,\nand striking down warrior after warrior.  \"See!\" cried the Emir,\n\"see, my son, how he is seeking for the King of the French!  There is\nno better soldier than he.  Follow him and the victory shall be\nyours, and all the prizes of victory, lands, and castles, and gold\nand fair women.\"  Nor did the chiefs of the heathen delay to charge.\nFiercely did they ride forward, and the battle raged over the plain.\nWhen the Duke Naymes saw how the Prince Malprime was breaking the\nranks of France, dealing death at every blow, he charged him, spear\nin rest.  He drave the point through the upper rim of his shield and\nthrough his corslet, deep into his side, and laid him dead on the\nfield.  But when King Canaben, who was uncle to the Prince, saw what\nhad befallen his nephew, he rode at the Duke, and, drawing his sword,\ndealt him a great blow on the helmet.  Half of the helmet and laces\nwherewith it was laced were shorn off by the stroke, and the edge of\nthe sword touched the flesh itself.  The Duke yet clung with one arm\nto the neck of his horse; if the heathen deal him another such blow\nhe is lost.  But, thanks to God, King Charles came to his help.  He\nstruck King Canaben through the vizor of his helmet with his\nboar-spear, and with the one blow laid him dead to the ground.\n\nElsewhere in the field the Emir wrought great havoc in the ranks of\nFrance, slaying chief after chief, among them the old man Richard,\nDuke of the Normans.  Behind him followed many heathen knights.  Many\nvalorous deeds they did.  Where the Emir led the ranks of the heathen\nthere the men of France suffered grievous loss, and now there came\none who brought him tidings of ill.  \"The Prince Malprime, your son,\nis slain,\" said the man; \"also King Canaben, your brother, is slain.\"\nThe Emir had well-nigh died of grief to hear such evil news; but he\ncalled to him one of his wisest counsellors.  \"Come near,\" said he;\n\"you are loyal and wise, and I have ever followed your counsel.  Tell\nme now, will the day go for the Arabs or for the men of France?\"\n\"Sire,\" the sage replied, \"you are in evil case.  As for your gods,\nlook not to them for help.  Call now your Turks and Arabs, and, above\nall, your Giants to the front.  With them you may yet win the day.\"\n\nThen the Emir put his horn to his mouth and blew a call, loud and\nclear.  The Turks and the Arabs and the Giants answered thereto.\nMighty warriors they were, and fierce was the charge they made; so\nfierce that they brake the army of France in twain.  But when Ogier\nthe Dane saw what had befallen the King's army he said to him, \"See\nyou how the heathen are breaking our ranks and slaying our men.  If\nyou would bear your crown where it should be borne you must strike\nwith all your might.\"\n\nThen the King rode forward, and with him the Duke Naymes, and Ogier\nthe Dane, and Geoffrey Count of Anjou.  All quitted themselves as\ngood knights, but there was none who bore himself so bravely as Ogier\nthe Dane.  Many he slew, among them the heathen knight who carried\nthe Emir's standard.  Sore discouraged was the Emir when he saw his\nstandard in the dust, but the heart of King Charles was high with\nhope.  \"Sons of France, will you help me?\" he cried.  \"'Tis a wrong\neven to ask us,\" said they; \"cursed be he who shall not strike with\nhis whole heart!\"  And now, as the day drew to the evening, these two\nmet in combat, King Charles and the Emir.  Fierce was the encounter\nbetween them, and many and sore were the blows they dealt the one to\nthe other.  At last it chanced that the bands of each man's saddle\nwas cleft through, so that they fell both to the ground.  Quickly did\nthey rise to their feet, and drawing their swords, closed fiercely in\nfight.  It was, indeed, a battle to the death.  First the Emir spoke,\nsaying, \"King Charles, you have slain my son; you have wrongfully\ninvaded my land.  Yet if you will pay me homage I will grant it to\nyou to hold in fief.\"  \"That were a foul disgrace,\" King Charles made\nanswer; \"never will I grant to a heathen either peace or life.\nBecome a Christian, and you shall have all that I have to give.\"\n\"These are but idle words,\" answered the Emir; \"I had sooner die.\"\nAnd as he spake he dealt King Charles a mighty blow upon the helmet.\nThe sword brake the iron, and shore away a palm's breadth of the\nscalp.  The King reeled in his place, and had well-nigh fallen to the\nground.  But God willed otherwise, for the angel that guarded him\nwhispered in his ear, \"Charles, what doest thou?\"  And when he heard\nthe angel's voice he thought no more of danger or death.  Gathering\nall his strength into one mighty blow, he severed the enemy's head in\ntwain.  Down to the chin he cleft it, and the Emir fell dead upon the\nplain.\n\nSo soon as the heathen saw that their leader was slain they fled in\nhot haste, and the men of France pursued them even to the walls of\nSaragossa.  There stood Queen Branimonde, with her priests about her,\nwaiting and watching for news of the war.  But when the Queen saw the\nmultitude of them that fled she hastened to King Marsilas, and said\nto him, \"O Sire, our people are vanquished, and the Emir is dead.\"\nWhen King Marsilas heard these words he turned him to the wall, and\ncovered his face and wept.  So great was his grief that his heart was\nbroken in his breast, and he died.\n\nAs for the town, none of the heathen had any thought of defending it.\nThey suffered the gates to be broken down without any hindrance, and\nthe Queen surrendered to King Charles all the towers, great and\nsmall.  Of a truth, he works well who works with God.\n\nAs soon as it was day King Charles bade his men break down all the\nthings that the heathen counted holy.  As for the people, they were\nbrought to the water of baptism.  Such as were not willing to be\nbaptized into the faith, these the King caused to be hanged, or slain\nwith the sword, or burnt with the fire.  But the greater part readily\nobeyed the King's command, and were made good Christians, one hundred\nthousand of them at the least.\n\nAfter these things the King departed from Saragossa, leaving a\nthousand men to keep the town for him.  He took Queen Branimonde with\nhim; also he took the bodies of Roland and Oliver and of Turpin the\nArchbishop, and caused them to be honourably buried at Blois.\n\nWhen King Charles was come back to the fair town of Aachen, it was\ntold him that a fair lady desired to see him.  So he commanded that\nshe should be brought before him.  When she came back she was Alda\nthe Fair.  She said, \"Tell me, O King, where is the Earl Roland?  He\nis promised to be my husband.\"  The King was greatly troubled to hear\nthese words.  He wept and tore his white beard.  \"My sister,\" he\nsaid, when he found his speech, \"my dear sister.  You ask me news of\na dead man.  But comfort yourself.  Roland we shall see no more, but\nyou shall have my son Lewis, he that is to be Warden of the Marches,\nin his place.\"  \"These are strange words,\" said Alda the Fair; \"God\nand His blessed saints forbid that I should live now that my Roland\nis dead,\" and as she spake she grew deadly pale, and fell at the\nKing's feet, and when they took her up, lo! she was dead.  When the\nKing saw this he called to him four countesses and bade them carry\nher to a nunnery that was hard by.  All that night these noble ladies\nwatched by her dead body; the day following she was buried by the\naltar with great honour.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXV\n\nOF THE PUNISHMENT OF GANELON\n\nThe King sent messengers to all parts of his dominions, bidding all\nthe judges learned in the law come to him at his palace at Aachen.\nSo the judges came as he commanded, and were gathered together on the\nFeast of St. Silvester, which was the last day of December.  When\nthey were all assembled he bade the Serjeants fetch Ganelon out of\nhis prison, and bring him before the judges.  When they had done\nthis, the King said, \"My Lords, I would have you judge this man\nGanelon.  He came with me when I went with my army to the land of\nSpain; he has robbed me of twenty thousand men of France; he has\nrobbed me of Roland my nephew, whom we shall see no more, and of\nOliver the courteous knight, and of the Twelve Peers of France--and\nall this he has done for the sake of money.\"\n\n\"It is true,\" said Ganelon; \"may a curse fall on me if I deny it.\nBut listen; Roland did me wrong in the matter of gold and silver.\nTherefore I sought to revenge myself upon him; and I compassed his\ndeath.  That I confess; but I deny that I wrought any treason.\"  So\nGanelon spake, as he stood before the King.  He was of a fair\npresence, and had been a noble knight if only he had been true of\nheart.\n\nGanelon spake again, saying, \"I beseech you, my lords, to hear my\ndefence.  When I was in the King's army I served him loyally and\nwell.  But my nephew Roland cherished in his heart a great hatred of\nme, and would have done me to death.  Did he not bring it about that\nI was sent on an embassy to King Marsilas?  If I escaped, it was of\nmy own contriving.  Thereupon I bade defiance to Roland and to Oliver\nand to all his company, as the King and all here present will bear\nwitness.  This was revenge, I confess, but I affirm it was not\ntreason.\"\n\nNow there had come to the support of Ganelon thirty men of his\nkindred, of whom the chief was a certain Pinabel.  A great orator was\nthis Pinabel, when there was need of pleading a cause, and a good\nsoldier also, when there was need of arms.  To him said Ganelon, \"I\ntrust in you, and you only; you can deliver me from dishonour and\ndeath.\"  \"You shall have a champion,\" answered Pinabel; \"the first\nman that shall pronounce against you the sentence of death, to him\nwill I give the lie with the edge of this sword.\"  Thereupon Ganelon\nfell at his feet and thanked him.\n\nA great company from many regions were gathered together to the King\nat Aachen; men from Saxony and from Bavaria, and from Poitou,\nNormans, and French, and Germans from beyond the Rhine.  And of all\nnone had more favour for Ganelon than the barons of Auvergne.  \"Let\nthe matter rest where it is,\" said they.  \"We will beseech the King\nto show mercy to Ganelon.  Roland is dead, and all the gold and\nsilver in the world will not bring him back.  As for fighting, it is\nsheer folly.\"  To this all the barons agreed--all save one, Thierry,\nto wit, that was brother to Geoffrey of Anjou.  Thereupon the barons\nof Auvergne went to the King and said, \"Sire, we beseech you, to hold\nthe Count quit of this charge.  Henceforth he will serve you with all\ngood faith and loyalty.  Suffer him to live, for he is a nobleman.\nAs for Roland, he is dead and neither gold nor silver will bring him\nback.\"  \"You are nothing but traitors, all of you!\" cried the King in\ngreat anger.  But when he saw how the barons favoured these words, he\nwas greatly troubled.  Thereupon Thierry, that was brother to\nGeoffrey of Anjou, stood before him, and said, \"Trouble not yourself,\nmy good lord.  Beyond all doubt, this Ganelon is a traitor.  Though\nRoland may have done him wrong, for your sake he should have suffered\nhim to go unscathed.  Therefore I pronounce sentence of death upon\nhim, that he be hanged by the heels till he die, and that they throw\nhis carcase to the dogs.  This is the just punishment of traitors.\nAnd if any kinsman of his say me nay, then will I give him the lie\nwith the edge of the sword.\"  So spake the Count Thierry, and all the\nmen of France cried with one voice, \"It is well said.\"\n\nPinabel, when he heard these words, came near to the King.  \"Sire,\"\nsaid he, \"bid them cease from this clamour.  The Count Thierry has\ngiven his judgment; I, for my part, say that he has lied.  Let us put\nthe matter to the trial of the sword.\"  \"So be it,\" answered the\nKing; \"but I must have hostages.\"  Thereupon thirty kinsmen of the\nCount offered themselves.  And the King, on his part offered hostages\nalso.\n\nFirst the two champions made confession and received absolution.\nAlso they gave great alms to the poor.  After this they armed\nthemselves for the battle.  There is a great plain near to the city\nof Aachen; on this the two champions met to do battle, the one for\nthe good name of Roland and his comrades, the other for Ganelon.\nFirst they charged with their spears in rest.  So equally matched\nwere they that neither gained any advantage in the encounter.  The\nspurs of both were broken; the corslets of both were broken through,\nand the belts of the horses were so torn that the saddles turned in\ntheir place.  So the two champions were unhorsed.  Quickly did they\nleap to their feet, and fall to with their swords.  Mighty blows did\nthey both deal, and the men of France were in great fear.  Then\nPinabel cried aloud, \"Take back your words, Count Thierry, I will be\nyour friend and comrade, and divide my wealth with you, if only you\nwill make Ganelon friends with the King.\"  \"Far be it from me!\"\nanswered Thierry.  \"Never will I do such a thing.  God shall judge\nbetween us.\"  After a while he spake again; \"Pinabel, you are a true\nknight, strong, and of a noble presence, and all men know your\ncourage.  Have done with this battle.  I will make peace between you\nand the King.  As for Ganelon, let him have his deserts.\"  \"God\nforbid,\" answered Pinabel, \"that I should desert my kinsman.\"  So the\nchampions turned again to the duel.  First Pinabel struck a mighty\nblow, and wounded Thierry on the right cheek, coming near to slay him\noutright.  But God preserved him, for was he not champion of the\nright!  Then Thierry, in his turn, smote his adversary.  On the\nhelmet fell the blow, cleaving it in twain, and the skull beneath, so\nthat the man's brain was scattered on the earth.\n\nThen came the punishment.  The King asked, \"What shall we do with\nthose that pledged themselves for the traitor's innocence?\"  \"Let\nthem be hanged,\" answered the nobles.  And this was done.  As for\nGanelon, they lashed his limbs to four horses, so that he was torn\ninto four pieces.  This was the end of the traitor.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXVI\n\nHOW KING CHARLES SENT HUON ON AN ERRAND\n\nKing Charles, being now advanced in years and desiring rest, was\nminded to lay down his power.  He called, therefore, his Barons\ntogether and said to them, \"I am weary of my kingship.  Say now to\nwhich of my two sons, Charlot and Lewis, I shall resign it.  For\nLewis indeed is over young, and Charlot is not of such conditions as\nto be fit for such dignity.\"  The Barons answered, \"Sire, let us\nconsider the matter by ourselves.\"  So they went apart and considered\nit, and it seemed meet to them that Prince Charlot should be King.\n\nNow there was among the Barons a certain Amaury, who was of kin to\nthe traitor Ganelon.  This Amaury said to the King, \"It would be well\nto try the Prince Charlot.  Now there is the Duchy of Bordeaux, whose\nPrinces, Huon and Gerard, have not yet taken the oath to you.  If you\nwill give me some soldiers I will bring them prisoners hither, and\nyour son Charlot shall have their land.  This shall be his trial\nbefore he have the kingdom of France.\"\n\nBut the Duke Naymes, being both wise and true of heart, said to the\nKing, \"This is no good counsel of Amaury.  The Princes are young,\nand, maybe, they have not failed in their duty to you of set purpose,\nbut rather unknowingly.  Send therefore messengers to Bordeaux and\nbid them come to your Court.  If they obey, well; but if not, then\nyou shall deal with them by Amaury's counsel.\"\n\nSo the King sent messengers to Bordeaux, and the Princes received\nthem with great honour.  And when they had delivered their message,\nthe Duchess said, \"I thank the King; my sons will certainly come to\ndo him homage when I shall have made them ready for their journey.\"\nSo the messengers went back to the King and told him these words, and\nhe was very glad, and said, \"A good tree puts forth good fruit; Duke\nSevyn of Bordeaux was a good man, and his sons are good men also.\nBut as for this mischief-maker Amaury, I banish him from the land of\nFrance.\"\n\nThen went Amaury to Prince Charlot and said: \"I had thought to win\nfor you the Duchy of Bordeaux.  But the Duke Naymes has thwarted me.\nNevertheless, the lands may yet be yours if only we can be rid of the\nPrinces Huon and Gerard.  Let us fall on them when they ride this\nway.\"\n\nThese two, then, lay in wait in a wood by which they knew the two\nshould pass.  Now Amaury's purpose was double, either that Huon and\nhis brother should be slain, or if they should slay Charlot, then\nthey should be accused to the King of this deed and suffer\naccordingly.  So now he said to Charlot, \"Yonder are Huon and Gerard;\nride out against them, for they are but weaklings.\"  To his men he\nsaid, \"Let the Prince go alone; he needs not your help.\"\n\nSo Charlot rode forth and held the way by which the two brothers must\npass.  Then Huon said to his brother, \"Go now and see what this\nknight demands; if he ask for toll, being master of the way, we will\npay it.\"  So Gerard rode forward.  Prince Charlot said to him, \"Who\nare you?\"  Gerard answered, \"We are sons of Sevyn that was Duke of\nBordeaux, on whom God have mercy.\"  \"Then,\" said the Prince, \"you are\nsons of a villain.  Sevyn took from me three castles, and I could\nnever have justice of him.  Now, therefore, you shall suffer for this\nwrong.\"  \"Sir,\" answered Gerard, \"you see that I am without arms.  It\nwere a foul shame if you should slay me.  But if you have suffered\nwrong we will make you amends.\"  \"I will have no amends,\" cried the\nPrince, \"but vengeance.\"  And when Gerard turned to flee, being\nunarmed, and fearing for his life, he rode at him and smote him with\nhis spear, so that he fell to the ground as one dead.\n\nWhen Huon saw this deed he was greatly troubled, thinking that his\nbrother was slain.  Spurring his horse, he rode with all haste, and\novertook the Prince ere ever he came to the wood.  He cried, \"Who are\nyou that have slain my brother without any cause?\"  Charlot answered,\n\"I am son of Duke Thierry,\" for he would not be known; also he had\ndisguised his shield, \"and this I have done because your father took\nfrom me three castles, and I could never have justice of him.\"  Huon\nsaid, \"You are a false knight and a murderer, and I defy you.\"  Then\nhe wrapped his scarlet cloak about his arm and drew his sword, for\nother arms or armour he had none, and rode against the Prince.  The\nPrince, on his part, spurred his horse and charged Huon with his\nspear in rest.  He drave his spear through the cloak and through the\ngown that Huon wore, and through the shirt that was under the gown,\nbut the body he missed.  Huon, on his part, raising his sword in both\nhis hands, smote Charlot as he passed so fierce a blow that he brake\nhis helmet in twain.  So, the steel entering his brain, he fell dead\nupon the ground.\n\nThen Huon, lighting from his horse, searched for Gerard's wound, and\nfinding that it was of less account than he had thought, bound it up\nwith a strip of his shirt.  Then he set him on an ambling nag that he\nhad in his train, that he might ride the more easily.  So the two\nwent forward on their way to Paris, for Huon would make complaint to\nthe King that, having a safe conduct, he had been so foully assailed.\n\nAmaury's knights said to him, \"What shall we do now?  The Prince lies\ndead on the plain.  It were ill done if he that slew him should be\nsuffered to escape.\"  Amaury answered, \"We will take up the body and\ncarry it to Paris, and so accuse him before the King.\"  So he and his\nknights followed Huon and his company, carrying the body of Charlot\nwith them.\n\nHuon, when he was come to Paris, went in and stood before the King,\nand told him what things had befallen him.  First he said, \"Sire, see\nthis my brother, how he has been wounded.\"  And as he spoke he pulled\naside Gerard's doublet and his shirt, and showed the wound beneath.\nAnd the lad fell in a swoon before the King and his lords, so great\nwas the pain that he suffered.  The King had a great pity for the\nwounded man, and bade fetch his own surgeon that he might dress the\nwound.  He said also, \"If I find out the man that has done this deed,\nI will deal with him in such fashion as shall never be forgotten.\"\n\nAfter this Huon told the story how he had been assailed, and how he\nhad slain his adversary.  When the King heard it he said, \"Now were\nthis false knight my own son Charlot, whom I love with all my heart,\nI should not deny that he had met with his deserts.\"\n\nWhile the King was yet speaking there was heard a great outcry in the\nstreet, for the body of the Prince was being carried through the town\nand the people lamented over it.  The King said to the Duke Naymes,\n\"Go now and see what this outcry may mean.\"  So the Duke went, but\nwhen he came to the great gate of the palace there was the body of\nPrince Charlot lying on a shield and borne by four knights.\n\nWhen the body was brought in and laid down before the King he said in\na loud voice, \"Tell me now who has done this deed and for what\ncause.\"  Amaury answered, \"The man who did this deed sits yonder.  He\nis none other than Huon of Bordeaux.\"  When the King heard these\nwords he would have fallen on Huon and slain him, only the Duke\nNaymes and others of his Barons held him back.\n\nThen said Huon to the King, \"Believe me, Sire, that I knew not this\nknight to be your son; verily, had I known it I should not have come\nto make my complaint to you as I have done this day.  Rather should I\nhave fled away and hidden myself as best I could.\"\n\nThen said the Duke Naymes to the King, \"Let now Amaury stand forth\nand tell us why he lay in ambush in the wood with your son, and what\npurpose he had in his mind.\"\n\nAnd Amaury stood forth and told this tale: \"Sir, your son sent a\nmessage to me, desiring that I should go a-hawking with him.  So I\nwent with him, only we went armed, for I feared the men of Ardennes\nlest they should fall upon us.  It chanced that we came to a little\nwood, and there we cast our hawks, and one of the hawks was lost.\nWhile we sought for it there came by Huon and his brother, and Huon\nhad the hawk on his fist.  Then your son full courteously required\nhis own again, and Huon for answer drew his sword and slew your son,\nwhich when he had done he rode away so fast that we could not\novertake him; and now I challenge him to say that he knew not the\nknight that demanded the hawk to be your son.\"\n\nThen said Huon, \"I will prove that this Amaury is a false liar, and\nwill make him confess that I knew not the knight whom I slew to be\nthe King's son.  And for my surety I give my brother Gerard, than\nwhom there is none nearer of kin to me.\"  Amaury on his part gave as\nsurety two nephews that he had.\n\nThe King said to the Duke Naymes, \"Let them prepare a field where\nthese two shall fight, and till it be prepared shut them up in a\ntower, and let a hundred knights be ready to keep the field when it\nis prepared.  For I will not suffer my son to be buried till the\nvanquished man be hanged, if he have not been already slain in the\nfield.\"\n\nWhen all was ready, the two champions took each his oath upon the\nholy relics that he had spoken the truth, and then made themselves\nready for the fight.  But men noted that Amaury, when he would have\nmounted his horse, stumbled so that he had well-nigh fallen to the\nground.  Then, after proclamation made that no one should presume\nunder pain of death to make any sign to either of the combatants, the\nKing stood up and said, \"My pleasure is that if no confession be made\nof the truth, then the vanquisher shall forfeit all his land and be\nbanished from this realm.\"  And from this judgment he would not\ndepart, though the Duke Naymes and the other Barons did protest that\nthe King was unjust.\n\nAfter this the two knights joined battle.  First they charged on\nhorseback, breaking both of them their spears, and with so great a\nshock that their horses fell to the ground.  Then both of them rose\nto their feet, and fought with their swords.  First Amaury smote Huon\non the helmet so strongly that he well-nigh stunned him.  Indeed Huon\nwas fain to rest for a space on one knee.  When Amaury saw this, he\ncried, \"Huon, you cannot hold out longer; it were well for you to\nconfess your ill-doing.\"  But Huon answered, \"Be silent, false\ntraitor,\" and he made as if he would strike him on the helmet; but\nwhen Amaury raised his sword to guard the blow, then Huon turned\nsuddenly his stroke, and smote the man under his guard so that he\nlopped off his left arm.  When Amaury saw that he was so disabled, he\nbethought him of a base device.  He said to Huon, \"I do confess that\nI spoke falsely and that you knew not that the knight was Charlot.\nTherefore I yield me to your grace.  Come, therefore, and receive my\nsword, which I willingly yield to you.\"  But when Huon came near to\ntake the sword, Amaury smote him on the arm, thinking to do him the\nsame damage that he had himself endured.  This stroke he missed, yet\nmade a great wound, so that the blood flowed down.  Then said Huon,\n\"Take this, false traitor!\" and he slew the man with one stroke, but\nfor repentance or confession there was no space of time.\n\nThen said the King, \"Did the vanquished man confess?\"  And when he\nheard that no confession had been made he said to Huon, \"I banish you\nfor ever from this realm.  Never shall you hold one foot of land in\nBordeaux or Aquitaine.\"  Nor would he abate one jot from this\nsentence, for all that Huon begged him to have mercy, and the Duke\nNaymes with the other Barons were urgent with him that he should not\ndo this great injustice.  Nevertheless at the last when he saw that\nhe was left alone, for the Duke with his fellows had departed from\nthe palace, he was constrained to relent somewhat from his purpose.\nSo he called the Barons, saying, \"Come back to me, for I must\nperforce yield to your desire.\"  To Huon he said, for the young man\nknelt before him with much humbleness, \"Will you do that thing which\nI command?\"  And Huon answered, \"Sire, there is nothing in the whole\nworld that I would not do at your bidding, if I might thereby be\nrestored to your grace.  Verily I would go to the gates of hell, as\ndid Hercules, if you should send me thither.\"  The King answered,\n\"Maybe, Huon, I shall send you to a worse place than that to which\nwent Hercules, for of fifteen messengers that have already gone\nthither there has not come back to me a single one.  Hear then what I\nshall say: you shall go to the city of Babylon and enter the palace\nof Gaudys that is Admiral of the city when he sits at his dinner.\nAnd you shall defy him, and shall take the sceptre from his hand.\nThis sceptre shall you render into my hands.  After this I will take\nyou again into favour, and will give back to you your lands.\"  The\nBarons said, \"Sir, you must greatly desire the death of him whom you\nsend on such an errand.\"  The King answered, \"Let him never come back\nto France except he bring the Admiral's sceptre with him.\"  Nor would\nhe grant him any further grace, save that ten knights should go with\nhim.  So Huon made ready to go.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXVII\n\nHOW HUON MET WITH KING OBERON\n\nThere is no need to tell all Huon's journeyings after he had departed\nfrom Paris.  Let it suffice to say that he went to Rome and there\nreceived the blessing of the Pope; and that he took ship at\nBrandys,[1] and, traversing the Inland Sea, so came to Holy Land,\nand, having landed at Jaffa, he came on the second day to Jerusalem.\nAnd he had for his comrade a certain Garyn, who was his mother's\nbrother, for Huon was son to Duke Sevyn of Bordeaux.  At Jerusalem,\nwhen they had worshipped at the Holy Sepulchre, Huon said to his\nuncle, \"I thank you much for your great kindness in that you have\nborne me company so far.  Now then return to your lady, my aunt, and\nto your children.\"  \"Not so,\" answered Garyn, \"I will not leave you\ntill you shall return yourself to your own land.\"\n\n\n[1] Brindisi.\n\n\nFrom Jerusalem they passed through the desert suffering much from\nheat and thirst.  On their way they saw a hut, in the door of which\nsat an old man with a long white beard, who, when Huon saluted him in\nthe name of God, first began to weep, and then caught Huon's hand,\nand kissed it many times.  \"'Tis thirty years,\" he said, \"since I\nhave seen the face of a Christian man.  And now looking upon you I\nremember me of a noble peer whom I knew long since in the land of\nFrance, Duke Sevyn of Bordeaux.  But now I pray you rest awhile.\"\n\nSo Huon and Garyn tied their horses to trees, and sat down and talked\nwith the old man.  And when Huon had told his story, then the old man\nrelated how he had been sent on pilgrimage to Jerusalem, because he\nhad slain a knight in a tourney, and how on his way home he had been\ntaken prisoner by Saracens and carried to Babylon, from which place\nhe had escaped after two years.  \"But,\" said he, \"I have not been\nable to return home, but have dwelt in this place ever since.\"\n\nHuon said, \"It is to Babylon that I go.  Tell me now what road I\nshould follow.\"  The old man answered, \"There are two roads to\nBabylon, one of forty days' journey and one of fifteen only.  But the\nshorter road is beset by a certain Oberon, King of the Fairies.  This\nOberon is very pleasant to look upon, and his voice very sweet, but\nbe sure that you do not speak to him, for he that speaks to him is\nlost for ever.  Yet, if you will not speak to him, he will hinder\nyour journey by his magic.  I counsel you, therefore, that you take\nnot the shorter way.\"\n\nThis counsel did not please Huon, who said, \"If I can gain so much\ntime by only keeping my tongue from speech, I will surely do so.\"\n\"If this be your will,\" answered the old man, whose name, it should\nbe said, was Gerames, \"I will go with you.\"\n\nThe next day they set forth.  At noon they rested awhile under an\noak, and as they rested, Oberon came by, very richly clad in a\ngarment garnished with precious stones, and holding in his hand a\nvery precious bow.  A horn also hung to his neck by two chains of\ngold.  There never was such a horn in this world.  One note of it\ncould cure all kinds of sickness; another could satisfy hunger and\nthirst, yet another could lighten all heaviness of heart, and a\nfourth could draw any one that heard it even against his will.\n\nAs Oberon rode by, he blew a note upon his horn, and when he heard\nit, Huon forgot all the hunger and thirst that he had.  And Oberon\ncried, \"I pray you speak to me.\"  But Huon, mindful of the counsel of\nGerames, answered not a word, but rode away.  Then Oberon in his\nanger blew again on his horn, and straightway there arose a great\nstorm, so that they could scarcely win their way against it; after\nthe storm there appeared a great river in their way, very black and\ndeep, and rushing with a terrible noise; also on the other side of\nthe river there appeared a very fair castle, which when they had\nlooked on it awhile vanished out of their sight.\n\n[Illustration: HUON MEETING WITH OBERON.]\n\nGerames said, \"Ride on now, taking no account of these things.\"  And\nthis they did.  When they had ridden some five leagues, and had seen\nnothing more, Huon said, \"We are well escaped from this Oberon.\"\nGerames answered, \"Not so; we shall see him again.\"  And while he\nspake, they saw Oberon on the other side of a bridge by which they\nmust pass.  Huon said, \"See, there is the devil who makes all this\ntrouble.\"  Oberon heard these words, and cried, \"Sir, you do me\nwrong; I am no devil, nor of an ill nature, and I entreat you that\nyou speak with me.\"  But Huon answered him not a word.\n\nAfter certain days, Oberon appeared again and said, \"I conjure you by\nthe name of God that you speak to me.  I know who you are, and why\nyou are come hither\"--and he told him all that had befallen him, the\nslaying of Charlot and the anger of the King--\"and be sure that you\ncannot accomplish the thing for which you are come, save by my help.\"\n\"Sir,\" answered Huon, \"you are welcome.\"  And Oberon said, \"You will\nwin for yourself a great reward by those words.\"\n\nHe had scarcely said these words when there rose up before them a\nvery fair palace, and in the palace there was a hall, and in the hall\na table of gold, set with cups and plates and dishes and all manner\nof meats thereon.  At this they sat down, and feasted joyously.  And\nOberon told Huon how he came to be as he was, for he was but as a\nchild to look upon.  \"When I was christened,\" said he, \"my father\ngave a royal feast to all the people, and called the fairies also.\nBut one fairy was not called, and she, being, greatly angered, said,\n'This child shall not grow one whit after his third year.'  But\nafterwards repenting said, 'Though this be so, yet there shall not be\na fairer child than he.\"  And when they were satisfied, Huon said,\n\"Have we your leave to depart?\"  Oberon answered, \"You shall go when\nyou wish, but first I would show you something.\"  And he said to a\nknight, \"Go, fetch me my cup.\"  So the knight brought him a cup.\nThis Oberon took in his hands, and made over it the sign of the\ncross, and straightway the cup was filled to the brim with wine.\n\"See,\" said he, \"this cup.  If a man be in deadly sin, there shall be\nnever a drop of wine in the cup when he holds it; but if he be out of\nsin, then it shall fill for him.  Take it now and make a trial of\nit.\"  Huon answered, \"I count not myself to be worthy of such a\nthing; yet thus much will I say, that I do repent me of all that I\nhave done amiss, and that I forgive all men what they may have done\namiss to me.\"  Then he took the cup in his hands, and straightway it\nwas full of wine.  Then Oberon said, \"Take this cup, for you are\nworthy of it, and this horn also.  But beware that you use it not\nexcept of necessity.\"  And when he had looked upon Huon awhile, he\nsaid, \"Huon, I love you well, but I foresee that you will suffer many\nthings by reason of your folly.\"  And he suffered him and his\ncompanions to depart.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXVIII\n\nOF THE END OF THE FALSE DUKE MACAIRE\n\nHuon and his companions rode on till they came to the city of\nTormont.  At the gate they met a man with a bow in his hand, who had\nbeen hunting in the wood.  Huon saluted him in the name of God, and\nwould know by what name the city was called.  When the man heard the\nsalutation, he said, \"Sir, speak softly, I pray you; if the Duke of\nthis city should know you to be Christian man, he would assuredly\nslay you.  I am a Christian man myself, but keep it hidden for fear\nof my life.\"\n\n\"I am journeying to Babylon,\" said Huon, \"and would fain tarry a\nnight in the city, for I and my company are weary.\"  \"Sir,\" answered\nthe stranger, \"I counsel you not to tarry; should the Duke know of\nyour coming, you would hardly save your lives.\"  But Huon said, \"The\nday is far spent, and we are weary.  Nor does a wise traveller leave\na good town.\"  Then said the stranger, \"If you are purposed to do\nthis thing, I will take you to a lodging, where you shall be safe.\"\nSo the man took Huon and his companions to the house of the Provost\nof the city.\n\nHuon greeted the Provost, as he had greeted the man at the gate, and\nthe Provost answered him in the same fashion: \"Speak softly,\" he\nsaid, \"for if the Duke should hear of this, you would be lost.\nNevertheless you are right welcome to my house.\"  Then he bade Huon\nand his companions enter, and when they had refreshed themselves,\nthey supped with great plenty.  Supper being ended, Huon said to\nGerames, \"Cause now that proclamation be made that any man in the\ncity that will may come and sup free of all cost.  And go you into\nthe city, and buy bread and meat and other things needful, and I,\nwith my cup, will give them drink.\"  And so it was done, and there\nwas never a beggar or vagabond in the whole city but came to the\nsupper.  And Huon ministered to them wine from the cup.\n\nNow it should be told that the Duke of the city of Tormont was by\nname Macaire, and was uncle to Huon.  But he had forsworn his\nChristian faith, and was full of hatred against all Christian men.\nAbout this time he chanced to send his steward into the city to buy\nprovisions.  But when the steward found that everything had been\nsold, he came again to his master, and said, \"I can get nothing in\nthe town for your supper.  There is a young man lodged in the\nProvost's house that has bought all the victuals that were in the\ncity, and has feasted therewith all the rogues and vagabonds in it.\"\nWhen the Duke heard this he said, \"I will go and see this fellow.\"\nAnd he bade his knights arm themselves, and come with him.  As he\nwent there came one that had been at the supper, who said, \"There is\na young man that has a most wonderful cup.  If all the people from\nthe east to the west should drink thereof, it would not fail.\"  Then\nthe Duke said to himself, \"I will have that cup.\"  So he and his men\nwent to the Provost's house.\n\nWhen the Provost saw the Duke coming, he said to Huon, \"Here comes\nthe Duke; I know not how you will fare.\"  \"Trouble not yourself,\"\nanswered Huon; and when the Duke came into the house, he said to him\nin a cheerful voice, \"Sir, you are welcome.\"  \"What mean you by this\ntumult?  Why did you bid all these rogues to supper?\"  \"Sir,\"\nanswered Huon, \"I am bound on a journey to the Red Sea; these poor\nfolk I have thus entertained that they may pray for me that I may\ncome back safely.\"  \"This is foolishness,\" said the Duke; \"what will\ntheir prayers profit you if you lose your head?\"  \"Sir,\" answered\nHuon, \"be content.  Sit down now with your knights, and sup with us;\nif I have done aught amiss I will make due amends.\"\n\nSo the Duke and his knights sat down, seeming to be content.  And\nwhen they had supped, Huon serving them all the time full\ncourteously, he took the cup and showed it to the Duke, saying, \"Is\nnot this cup empty?\"  \"'Tis so,\" said the Duke, \"I see nothing\ntherein.\"  Then Huon made the sign of the cross over the cup, and\nstraightway it was full of wine.  But when he gave it to the Duke,\nlo! in a moment it was empty.  Said the Duke, \"What magic is this?\"\n\"'Tis no magic,\" answered Huon.  \"Because you are in sin, therefore\nthe cup became empty in your hands.\"\n\nThe Duke was not a little wroth; nevertheless he dissembled his\nanger, and said, \"Tell me now your name and your kindred, and of what\ncountry you are.\"  And when he heard these things, he said, \"Fair\nsir, you are my nephew; you should lodge nowhere but with me.\"  \"I\nthank you, sir,\" answered Huon.  But Gerames said, \"'Tis safer\nlodging with the Provost.\"\n\nOn the morrow Huon would have departed, but the Duke said, \"Tarry\nawhile, fair nephew, till my Barons shall come, for I would have them\ngo with you to your journey's end.\"  \"I am content,\" answered Huon,\n\"if you will have it so.\"\n\nThe Duke, purposing to slay his nephew, said to a certain Geoffrey, a\nknight who had come with him from France, and had also renounced the\nChristian faith, \"Bring now five or six score of soldiers, and let\nthem slay this Huon and all his train.  Let not one escape, if you\nwould not lose my favour.\"  To this Geoffrey consented.\n\nBut when Geoffrey was gone out from the Duke's presence, he said to\nhimself, \"This is a villainous deed that the Duke would have me to\ndo, the slaying of his own nephew.  I remember what great service\nthis man's father, the Duke Sevyn, did me when I was in France,\nsaving my life when I was overpowered by my enemies.  It were a\nshameful thing to deal with his son in this fashion.\"\n\nNow there were in the castle some six score prisoners out of the land\nof France who had been taken captive on the seas.  Geoffrey, having\ncharge of these prisoners, for he was in high authority under the\nDuke, went to the dungeons where they lay, and said to them, \"Sirs,\nif you would save your lives, follow me.\"  This they were well\ncontent to do.  So he took them to the chamber where the arms were\nkept, and armed them all.  Having done this he said, \"Sirs, now it is\ntime to show your courage, if you would have freedom instead of\nbondage.\"  And he told them how the Duke had sent for pagan men to\nslay his nephew.  \"But you,\" he said, \"when the time comes, will not\nslay but succour him.\"\n\nSo the prisoners, being clad in armour, and having swords by their\nsides, followed Geoffrey to the hall where the Duke and Huon sat at\ndinner; and when they had entered the hall, Huon said to his uncle,\n\"Are these the Barons who shall conduct me on my journey?\" for he was\nvery desirous to depart.  The Duke, thinking that Geoffrey had\nfulfilled his commandment, said, \"Not so, my nephew; these are\nsoldiers whom I have sent for that they may slay you.\"\n\nWhen Huon heard this he stood upon his feet, and put his helmet on\nhis head and prepared to fight for his life.  Geoffrey, on his part,\nsaid to the prisoners, \"Show yourselves men, fair sirs, and suffer\nnot a single pagan to escape!\" And the prisoners fell on the company\nthat was gathered at dinner with the Duke, and slew them.\n\nAs for the Duke, when he saw how he had been deceived, he fled by a\nsecret way that he knew, and, leaping from a window, so escaped.  But\nGeoffrey and the Frenchmen shut to the gates, and drew up the\ndrawbridge, thinking to defend themselves in the castle, for they\nknew that the Duke would not be content till he had recovered it.\n\nIn no long time the Duke, having gathered together a great company of\nmen, laid siege to the castle.  He had engines of war with him, and\nladders wherewith his men might climb on to the walls and make a\nbreach with pikes and mattocks.  And this the pagans did, and for all\nthe valour of Huon and Geoffrey and the prisoners the castle was very\nlike to be taken.\n\nGerames said to Huon, \"Now, sir, it is time for you to blow your\nhorn, for unless there come to us some help we shall scarce see\nanother day.\"  Huon answered, \"I would willingly do so, but my horn I\nhave not, for I left it with the Provost.\"\n\nMeanwhile the Provost had come to the Duke, and said to him, \"Sir,\nthis is but ill counsel that you are pulling down your own castle.\nMake peace with your nephew on this condition, that he and his\ncompany straightway depart from out of your city.  Let me go,\ntherefore, and persuade him.\"  \"You shall go,\" answered the Duke.\n\nSo the Provost, coming to the castle gate, said that he greatly\ndesired to see Huon, who coming, desired to know who he was.  When he\nheard that he was the Provost, he said to him, \"Now if you would\nserve me, give me the horn which I left in your keeping.\"  \"That is\neasily done,\" answered the Provost, and he drew it from his bosom and\ngave it to Huon.\n\nGerames, though he had counselled the blowing of the horn, when he\nsaw Huon now ready to do so, repented, for he mistrusted King Oberon,\nand would gladly have done without his help.  He said, therefore, to\nHuon, \"Sir, I doubt whether you are even now in such a strait that\nyou should blow the horn.  Haply King Oberon would not desire that it\nshould be done.\"\n\n\"What mean you?\" answered Huon.  \"Shall I tarry till I am slain\nbefore I ask for help?\" and putting the horn to his lips he blew it\nwith all his might.\n\nKing Oberon heard the blast of the horn where he sat in his city of\nMommure, and he said to himself, \"Doubtless my friend has need of me;\nI wish that I were with him and ten thousand men with me.\"  No sooner\nhad he wished it than he and the ten thousand men were in the city of\nTormont.  A great slaughter did they make of the pagans, but they\nthat were willing to be christened King Oberon saved alive.  As for\nthe Duke, he was slain without mercy, for he was an evil man, and had\nsinned against knowledge, and they hanged his body on a gibbet that\nwas set upon the wall, that his end might serve as an example for\nothers.\n\nAfter these things Oberon took leave of Huon.  At the same time he\nsaid, \"I foresee that you will run into many dangers by your\nrashness.  I counsel you, therefore, that you undertake no adventures\nbut such as are necessary.\"  To these words Huon answered, that when\nhe departed from France, he had resolved that he would refuse no\nadventure, how perilous soever it might be.  \"That is foolishness,\"\nsaid Oberon; \"and mark this: if you blow the horn when you are on any\nof such adventures, I will not heed it, no, not though you should\neven break the horn in the blowing of it.\"  \"Sir,\" said Huon, when he\nheard these words, \"you will do your pleasure, as I will do mine\nown.\"  But Oberon answered nothing.  So these two parted in anger.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXIX\n\nHOW HUON, HAVING SLAIN A GIANT, CAME TO BABYLON\n\nAfter these things it was told Huon that there was a certain tower\nnot far from the city of Tormont, a very marvellous place where there\ndwelt a giant, Angolafer by name.  The gate of this tower, for so the\nstory ran, was kept by two men of brass, each of whom held in his\nhand an iron flail.  These two beat with their flails without ceasing\nfor one single moment, the one striking while the other ceased; and\nthis they did so quickly that not even a swallow could fly between\nthem without taking harm.  But if a man could by any means pass into\nthe tower, and overcome the giant, then he would find treasures\nwithout end.\n\nWhen Huon heard of these things, he thought in himself, \"This is an\nadventure after my own heart.\"  So he made his way to the tower.\nWhen he saw the men of brass striking with their flails, he wondered\nmuch how he might win by them.  After a while he spied a bason of\ngold, tied with a chain to a marble pillar; on this he struck three\ngreat strokes with his sword, for he said to himself, \"If I may come\nto speech with some human creature 'twere better than dealing with\nthese men of brass.\"  And so it fell out.  There was a certain damsel\nin the tower, Sybil by name, whom the giant kept prisoner, and she,\nhearing the sound, ran to a window and looked out.  When she saw\nHuon, she said, \"Who is this?  He is a fair knight.  I judge him to\nbe of France, for I see on his shoulder three crosses, gules; 'twere\na pity that he should come to harm; yet what could fifty knights do\nagainst this giant?  Yet if he is come for some good end, I would\nfain help him.\"\n\nNow there was a handle which, being turned, stayed the beating of the\nflails.  The Lady Sybil thought within herself, \"Dare I do this\nthing?  Yet it were better to die than to remain in this bondage.\"\nAlso she heard the breathing of the giant, as of one in deep sleep.\nThereupon she turned the handle, and Huon entered the palace.  But\nwhen he passed from the gates to the hall, and from the hall to a\nchamber, and from this to other chambers, and saw no one, only dead\nmen lying here and there, he was not a little astonished.\n\nAfter he had so wandered awhile, he heard the voice of a damsel that\nwept, which sound he followed till he came to the place where she\nsat.  \"Why weep you?\" he said.  \"I weep,\" she answered, \"because you\nare in great peril.  Know that I am a Christian woman, though I have\nnot talked with a Christian these seven years.  My father, making\npilgrimage to the Holy Sepulchre, was shipwrecked in this place.\nHim, with all his train, the giant slew, but me he kept alive.\"\n\"Tell me, lady,\" said Huon, \"who you are?\"  \"I am daughter,\" she\nanswered, \"to Guynemer, that was Earl of St. Omer, and married to a\nsister of Duke Sevyn of Bordeaux.\"  \"Then,\" said he, \"you are my\nkinswoman, for I am the elder son of the same Duke Sevyn;\" and he\ngreeted her full courteously.  \"And now I am on the way to the\nAdmiral of Babylon, having been sent on an errand by Charlemagne.\nBut tell me of this giant.\"  \"Nay,\" said she, \"you would do well to\ndepart while he sleeps.\"  But Huon would have none of this counsel.\n\"I should take to myself shame,\" said he, \"if I should fear this\nvillain.\"  \"If you are so minded,\" answered Sybil, \"you will find him\nin the fourth chamber from this.\"  When Huon was come to the fourth\nchamber, he saw the giant, a most monstrous creature to behold,\nasleep on a bed, and cried aloud, \"Rise up, thou heathen dog, or I\nwill strike off thy head!\"  The giant answered, \"Not a hundred such\nas you would prevail over me were I armed; even now I fear you not.\"\n\"Gird on your armour,\" said Huon, \"I would not fight with a naked\nman.\"  \"That is bravely and courteously said,\" quoth the giant.\n\"Tell me your name and country.\"  Huon answered, \"I am a poor knight\nof France, whom Charlemagne has sent on an errand to the Admiral of\nBabylon.\"  \"From that same Admiral,\" said the giant, \"I have taken\nnot one town only, but many.  This tower I took from Oberon, who is a\ngreat Prince in these parts, and with it a suit of armour which no\none may wear save he be without guilt.  Now, for your courtesy, you\nshall try it, if you will.\"\n\nThen Huon took the armour, and put it on him, and lo! he bare it\neasily.  \"I see,\" said the giant, \"that you are a worthy knight; now\nthat you have proved the armour, deliver it to me again.\"  \"That will\nnot I,\" answered Huon, \"not for twelve of the fairest cities that are\nbetween this place and Paris.\"  \"Friend,\" said the giant again, \"if\nyou will but deliver to me the armour, I will let you depart hence\nwithout harm; also I will give you a ring of gold which I had of this\nsame Admiral of Babylon.  Whoso has this ring can pass where he will.\"\n\n\"I owe you no thanks for the gift,\" said Huon, \"for the ring I can\ntake at my pleasure, when you shall have been slain.\"  Thereat the\ngiant, in great wrath, made at him with a falchion that he carried in\nhis hand, but missing his stroke, he smote a pillar that stood hard\nby so sharply that the steel fixed itself in the stone.  When Huon\nsaw what had befallen, he smote the giant and struck off both his\nhands.  The giant turned to flee, but the Lady Sybil, for she had\ncome desiring to save the Christian knight, threw a staff between his\nlegs so that he fell headlong to the earth: when Huon saw him lie\nthus, he smote off his head with one stroke of his sword.\n\nThis done, Huon looked forth from a window of the tower, and cried to\nhis comrades, where they stood in no little fear, \"Come up hither, I\nhave slain the giant.\"  Then the Lady Sybil turned the handle as\nbefore, so that the flails were stayed and they entered the tower.\nThe day being now far spent, they sat down to supper, and made good\ncheer.\n\nOn the morrow, Huon said to his companions, \"Tarry you here in the\ntower with the Lady Sybil, for I will go to Babylon alone.  If I come\nnot again in fifteen days, then take ship, and depart to the land of\nFrance.\"  But Gerames said, \"Not so, my lord; we will tarry for you\nthe space of a whole year.\"  And to this they all agreed.\n\nHuon, therefore, journeyed to Babylon.  When he came near to the\ncity, he perceived that the woods were crowded with wayfarers, some\nthat went a-hawking and some that came back from their sport, and\nmerchants, and travellers, with horses and carriages.  He marvelled\nto see them, for they were strange of aspect to him; and they also\nmarvelled at him, for the fashion of his armour was not the fashion\nof their country.  So much was he occupied with the sight, that the\ngiant's ring passed wholly from his mind, from which forgetting there\ncame to him, as will be seen, much trouble.\n\nWhen he came to the Admiral's palace, he cried to the porter that he\nshould open the gate.  The porter would know whether he was a\nSaracen.  \"That am I,\" answered Huon, thinking that otherwise he\nwould not be suffered to enter.  So the porter opened to him.  Then\nHuon straightway remembered the ring, and said to himself, \"I have\nsinned in lying to this fellow, and this to no purpose, having the\nring.\"\n\nAfter this he came to a second gate, and a porter thereat, who opened\nto him at the sight of the ring; and after the second, a third, and\nafter the third, a fourth, which he passed in the same way.\n\nBeing now in the very middle of the palace, he bethought him, \"There\nare doubtless many Saracens in this place, and I only a Christian.\n'Tis time to blow the horn and I may have help from King Oberon.\"\nThereupon he blew a great blast.\n\nKing Oberon heard the blast where he sat in his palace.  But he said\nto himself, \"There has been a lie upon the lips that blew this horn,\nfor the note is false.  Though he burst his throat with blowing, I\nwill not go to help him.\"\n\nWhen the Admiral heard it, he said to his lords that sat with him,\n\"There is a magician in the palace.  Go bring him to me before he do\nus any mischief.\"\n\nHuon was not a little troubled when he found that no one came to his\nblowing of the horn.  \"I am in an evil case,\" he said, \"nor shall I\nsee my people or my country any more.  Nevertheless it becomes a man\nto keep a good courage.\"  And when the Admiral's lords came to him,\nhe took no heed of them, but walked straight forward, and they feared\nto lay hands on him.\n\nWhen he came to where the Admiral sat, he made no obeisance, but drew\nhis sword, and said, \"I come from the great King Charles.\"  Before he\ncould say more, the Admiral cried aloud, \"Seize me this villain!\"\nAnd the lords made as if they would seize him.  Then Huon took the\nring from his finger, and showed it to the Admiral, saying not a word.\n\nWhen the Admiral saw the ring, he said, \"Leave this man alone; he is\nhere of right.\"  Then Huon said, \"I am a Christian man, and I come\nfrom the great King of the Christians.  Hear, therefore, the message\nthat he sends: 'Turn from your false gods; confess the faith of\nChrist; acknowledge that you hold your kingdom of me; and send me for\ntoken your royal sceptre.  If you will not I will come with an army,\nand utterly destroy both you and your people.'  This is the King's\nmessage, and I counsel you to take heed thereto.\"\n\nWhen the Admiral heard these words, his anger passed all bounds.\n\"Know,\" he cried, \"that before you fifteen messengers have come to me\nmaking this same demand, and these fifteen have been hanged by the\nneck in the very same place; and you shall be the sixteenth.\"  And he\nsaid to his men, \"Seize me this fellow.\"  Then Huon, setting his back\nto the wall, and drawing his sword, fought with all his might.  Many\nhe slew; but when he had fought for an hour or more, and the number\nof the enemy was increased rather than diminished, and he had grown\nfaint with heat and toil, then he was constrained to yield.  So the\nSaracens bound him, and set him before the Admiral.\n\nThe Admiral said to his lords, \"What shall we do with this fellow?\"\nand the lords answered with one voice, \"Let him be slain forthwith.\"\nNevertheless there was one lord, an old man, and held in great repute\nfor his wisdom, who did not consent to this counsel.  \"Sir,\" said he\nto the Admiral, \"our law forbids that any man should be put to death\nthis day.  I advise, therefore, that he be kept in custody for a\nyear; after that we will take counsel about him again.  Also there is\nanother matter that I fain would know.  How came this man hither?\nAsk him, my lord.\"\n\nSo the Admiral said, \"Fellow, declare to me by what means you passed\nthe gates.\"  Then Huon said to himself, \"I will speak no more\nfalsehoods, though I perish for it.\"  And he held up the ring,\nsaying, \"I passed the gates by virtue of this ring.\"  And he told how\nhe came by the ring, and how he had slain the giant in the tower.\n\nWhen the old councillor heard these things, he said to the Admiral,\n\"Sir, we ought to thank this man rather than harm him, seeing that he\nhas slain the giant that was wont to do us so much mischief.\"  The\nAdmiral answered, \"I know not how to thank the man who brought me a\nmessage so insolent.  But as to the keeping of him alive, it shall be\ndone as you say.  I will not depart from the customs of my\nforefathers.  Let him be kept in prison for a space.\"  So the\nAdmiral's yeomen took Huon, and cast him into a dungeon that was\nunder the palace.\n\nNow it so chanced that when Huon was brought before the Admiral, the\nAdmiral's fair daughter, Esclairmonde by name, was standing behind a\ncurtain, where she could hear all the words that were said and could\nalso see what was done, being herself unseen.  This maiden, beholding\nHuon, and seeing how fair a knight he was, and how boldly he bare\nhimself both in the fight and when he was brought before her father,\nconceived for him in her heart no small love.  When, therefore, she\nheard that he was to be slain, she had much ado to refrain herself\nfrom crying out.  But when she knew that he was to be put in prison\nfor a space, she thought within herself how she might help him.\n\nWhen it was now midnight, and every one in the palace slept, she\nissued from her chamber, carrying a torch of wax in her hand.  When\nshe came to the door of the dungeon, by good luck she found the\njailor asleep, and taking his keys, opened the door of the dungeon.\n\nShe said to Huon, \"Fair sir, I am Esclairmonde, and am daughter to\nthe Admiral, and I saw you when you were brought before my father,\nand also when you fought against his men, and knew you to be a fair\nknight and a gallant.  Now, therefore, I desire greatly to help you;\nnor is there anything which I would not do for your sake,\" speaking\nmore boldly because the dungeon was a darksome place, and neither\ncould she see the knight's face nor could the knight see hers.\n\nWhen Huon heard the maiden thus speak, he said to himself, \"Now must\nI be true as becomes a Christian man.  I must tell this maiden that\nI, being a Christian man, may not have friendship with a Saracen; but\nof love I will not speak, lest it should shame her.\"  So he said,\n\"Fair lady, for fair you must be, seeing that you are so gracious, I\nthank you much for your kindness, nor will I refuse such service as\nyou may find it in your heart to render me.  Only you must know that\nI, being a Christian man, can have no friendship with a Saracen.\"\n\nThe Lady Esclairmonde, hearing him thus speak, was filled with anger\nagainst him.  \"If you will not have me for a friend,\" she said,\n\"verily you shall have me for an enemy, and will find that you have\nchosen the worst part.\"  Then she went out from the dungeon, and said\nto the jailor, \"See that this fellow have neither meat nor drink for\nthree days.\"  And the jailor said, \"Lady, it shall be done as you\ncommand.\"\n\nBefore the three days were passed, Esclairmonde repented in her heart\nthat she had done this thing.  She went, therefore, to the jailor,\nand said to him, \"Open the door, for I would speak with this\nprisoner.\"  And when he had opened the door, she said to Huon, \"Sir\nKnight, I do greatly admire your constancy, in that you hold out\nagainst hunger and thirst, which to many, I doubt not, are harder to\nbe borne than any perils or hurts of battle.  Hear me, therefore: I\ndo promise that if I can escape from this land, I will be christened\nas soon as I come to any land where this may be done.\"  Huon answered\nher, \"You make me right glad, fair lady; I do thank you with all my\nheart.\"\n\nEsclairmonde said to the jailor, \"Now set before the prisoner meat\nand drink, and take such care of him as you best can.  Only tell the\nAdmiral that the man is dead of hunger.\"  The jailor answered, \"It\nshall be done as you desire.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XL\n\nHOW HUON RETURNED, HIS ERRAND FULFILLED\n\nWhen Gerames and the Lady Sybil had tarried for three months in the\ntower, and had heard no tidings of Huon, they were greatly troubled\nand doubted what they should do.  And while they doubted, it chanced\nthat certain pagans came in a ship bringing tribute to the giant.\nWhen Gerames perceived them, he said to his company, \"We do ill to\ntarry here, when Huon, it may be, needs our help.  Let us take this\nship, therefore, and sail over the sea till we come to Babylon.\"  So\nthey took the ship, the pagans not being able to hinder them.\n\nWhen they were come to Babylon, Gerames led his company to the\nAdmiral's palace, and went in and saluted him where he sat with his\nlords, saying, \"Now may Mahomet, of whose gift both corn and wine\ncome to the sons of men, preserve the Admiral Gaudys!\"  \"Friend,\"\nsaid the Admiral, \"you are welcome to this place.  Tell me your name\nand country.\"  \"I come,\" answered Gerames, \"from the city of\nMombraunt, and I am son to King Ivoryn.\"  Now Ivoryn was brother to\nthe Admiral.  The Admiral rose up from his place and said, \"Then are\nyou doubly welcome.  Pray tell me how fares my brother, King Ivoryn?\"\n\"He is in good health,\" answered Gerames.  \"And who are these that\nare with you?\" said the Admiral.  \"These,\" said Gerames, \"are\nFrenchmen, whom the King took when they were sailing on the sea.  He\nsends them to you for your sport, that on the feast of St. John\nBaptist you may set them bound to stakes in the meadow, and let the\narchers shoot at them, trying who shall shoot the best.  This damsel\nwhom I have with me shall, if it please you, be put with your\ndaughter that she may learn the French tongue more perfectly.\"  \"All\nthis,\" answered the Admiral, \"shall be done as you desire.  Now, for\nthe present, put these caitiffs in prison, and see that they have\nenough of meat and drink that they die not of famine, as there lately\ndied in this place one Huon of Bordeaux.  A fair knight he was,\nalbeit he was a Christian.\"\n\nWhen Gerames heard these words he was greatly troubled.  Such was his\nanger that he had much ado to keep himself from running at the\nAdmiral to slay him; but with a staff that he had, he smote the false\nprisoners that he had so hardly that the blood ran down.  And they,\nfor fear of the Admiral, durst not stir; nevertheless they cursed\nGerames in their hearts.  Said the Admiral, \"Fair nephew, it seems to\nme that you have but little love for Christian men.\"  \"Even so, sir,\"\nanswered Gerames; \"three times a day do I beat them in honour of my\nGod Mahomet.\"  Then he led the Frenchmen to prison, beating them as\nhe went, but none of them durst say one word.\n\nAs they went, they met the Lady Esclairmonde, who said, \"Cousin, I am\nright glad of your coming, and now let me tell you of a private\nmatter, if you will promise to keep it secret.\"  \"That will I do\nright willingly,\" answered Gerames.  \"Listen, then,\" said the damsel.\n\"There came to this place some five months since a French knight,\nbringing a message from King Charlemagne.  Him, my father, taking the\nmessage that he brought very ill, put in prison.  I persuaded my\nfather, for a reason that I had, that this Huon is dead of hunger,\nbut in truth he is alive, and, indeed, is as well served with meat\nand drink as is my father himself.\"\n\nGerames made no answer, doubting what might be in the damsel's heart,\nand fearing that it might be a device for discovering the truth\nconcerning himself.  He spake no word, therefore, but thrust the\nFrenchmen roughly into the prison.\n\nNow the prison was so dark that Huon could not by any means discover\nwho they might be that had thus been brought into his company.  But\nin a short space he heard one of them lamenting his hard fate, and\npraying to the Lord Christ that He would succour them, \"For,\" said\nhe, \"Thou knowest that we have done no wrong that we should be cast\ninto this place, having come hither for the sake of our young lord\nHuon.\"  When Huon heard this, he knew that they were Frenchmen, and\nsaid, \"Tell me now, fair sir, what has befallen you.\"  So the lord\ntold him his story.  And Huon, when he had heard it, said, \"I am\nHuon, safe, and in good health, thanks to the fair Esclairmonde, who\nis, indeed, a Christian damsel at the heart.\"  Then the Frenchmen\nbegan to complain right bitterly concerning Gerames, saying that he\nwas the worst and cruellest traitor on earth.  \"Nay,\" said Huon, \"be\ncontent, Gerames has done all this to deliver us, as you will soon\nknow for a certainty.\"  And so it happened, for Gerames, having had\nmore talk with the fair Esclairmonde, and having heard that she was\nwell disposed in her heart to Huon and his companions, came that\nnight to the dungeon, and declared the truth.  \"Only,\" said he, \"we\nmust wait awhile till there shall be a fitting opportunity.\"\n\nAfter seven days there came to the palace a great giant, Agrapart by\nname, brother to Angolafer, whom Huon had slain.  The purpose of his\ncoming was to demand from the Admiral the tribute that had been paid\nby custom to his brother.  Now the Admiral was sitting at dinner when\nhe came, and the giant came to the table, and said, \"You are a false\ntraitor, for you harbour a villain that by some foul means slew my\nbrother Angolafer.\"  And when he had so spoken, he reached out his\nhand, and dragged the Admiral from his seat so rudely that the crown\nupon his head fell to the ground.  This, done, he himself sat down in\nthe Admiral's chair, and said, \"My will is that you pay me the\ntribute that you were wont to pay my brother, for that which was his\nhas by right come to me.  Yet I offer you this grace, you shall\nchoose you two men who may fight a joust with me.  If they can\novercome me, then shall you and your land be free of your tax; but if\nI overcome them, then shall you pay the double.\"\n\nWhen the Admiral heard these words, he said to his knights, \"Now is\nthe time that you may requite all the kindness that I have done you,\nand all the gifts which I have given you.  And if gratitude be\nlacking, then I will say this also; if any man will come forth to\nfight in single combat with this giant, to him will I give my\ndaughter Esclairmonde in marriage, and after my death he shall have\nall my lands for his inheritance.\"\n\nFor all this no man came forth, for the Saracens were sorely afraid\nof the giant.  Then said Esclairmonde to her father, \"Sir, it was\ntold you that the French knight, Huon by name, whom you cast into\nprison, was dead of hunger.  This is not so in truth.  Huon yet\nlives, and I promise you that he will fight with this giant.\"\n\nSo the Admiral sent to the dungeon for Huon and his company.  And\nwhen Huon was set before him, it could be seen that he was in good\ncase, though somewhat pale because of being shut up.  \"You have found\na good prison,\" said the Admiral.  \"Yea,\" answered Huon, \"and I thank\nyour daughter therefor.  But tell me now why you have sent for me.\"\nSaid the Admiral, \"See you that giant?  He has challenged any man,\nyea, any two men, and I can find none that are willing to fight with\nhim.  Now, therefore, if you will fight with him and overcome him,\nthen you and all your company shall return to King Charlemagne.  Also\nI will give into your hands a present for the King; I will engage\nalso to send him year by year a like present for head money; also I\nwill bind myself to serve him with such a host as he may require.\nVerily I would sooner be his bond-slave than pay tribute to this evil\ngiant.  But if you rather choose to abide with me, then will I give\nyou my daughter Esclairmonde in marriage, and with her the half of my\nkingdom.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" said Huon, \"willingly will I fight with this giant.  But first\nyou must give me back my horn and my cup that were taken from me.\"\n\"It shall be done,\" said the Admiral, and he commanded that they\nshould give the horn and the cup to Huon.  These Huon delivered to\nGerames to keep for him.  After this he armed himself for battle.\nAnd when the Admiral saw him duly equipped for the fight, he said,\n\"This is as goodly a knight as ever I beheld.\"\n\nWhen the giant and Huon came together in the field, the giant asked\nthis question, \"What is your kinship to the Admiral that you are\nwilling to fight for him?\" Huon answered him, \"I am not of kin to\nhim, I am a Frenchman born, and I slew your brother.\"  \"That is ill\nhearing,\" said the giant; \"nevertheless I am thankful to Mahomet that\nhe gives me occasion to revenge my brother's death; yet, for I see\nthat you are a brave man, if you will worship Mahomet, I will give\nyou my sister in marriage--and she is a foot higher than I and black\nas a coal--and the half of my lands.\"  Huon answered, \"I will have\nnone of your lands or your sister.  It is time to fight.\"\n\nThen the two, setting their spears in rest, charged at each other,\nand this so fiercely that their spears were broken in pieces and\ntheir horses borne to the ground.  But the two leapt lightly to their\nfeet, and next the giant would have stricken Huon with a great blow,\nbut Huon leapt lightly to one side so that the giant missed his\nstroke.  But Huon in his turn smote the giant in the helm, and cut\noff his ear.  Then the giant was sore afraid and cried to Huon, \"I\nyield me to you; I pray you to do me no hurt.\"\n\nThe Admiral was greatly pleased with the victory, and Esclairmonde\nhad even greater joy.  When Gerames saw what had befallen, he said to\nthe Admiral, \"Know that I am no Saracen, no, nor nephew of yours, but\nI came to look for my lord, Huon of Bordeaux.\"  The Admiral, when he\nheard this, said, \"Of a truth it is hard to be aware of the craft and\nsubtlety of these Frenchmen.\"\n\nMeanwhile Huon came and delivered up the giant to the Admiral.  The\ngiant knelt down, and said, \"I did think myself the most mighty man\nupon the whole face of the earth, and that not ten men could prevail\nover me, but now am I overcome by one only.  Therefore I submit\nmyself to you and crave your pardon.\"  \"My pardon you shall have,\"\nanswered the Admiral, \"if you will promise not to trespass against me\nhereafter, and will swear to be my man so long as you shall live.\"\n\"I promise,\" and kneeling down in the sight of all, he swore he would\nbe the Admiral's man.\n\nThese things finished, the Admiral and his chief lords, with the\nFrenchmen, sat down to dinner.  At dinner Huon took the cup that\nOberon had given him, and showed it to the Admiral saying, \"See now\nwhat happens when I make this sign.\"  And when he had made the sign\nof the cross, lo! the cup was filled with wine.  Then he gave the cup\ninto the Admiral's hand, and straightway the wine vanished away.  The\nAdmiral greatly marvelled at the sight, and said, \"You have enchanted\nme.\"  \"Nay, sir,\" answered Huon, \"this is no enchantment.  This thing\nis a sign that you are full of sin.  And now I beseech you to forsake\nyour false gods and to be christened.  Verily if you will not do this\nthing, I will overrun your palace and your whole city with armed\nmen.\"  \"Now listen,\" cried the Admiral, \"to this over-bold Frenchman!\nHe hath lain in my prison for the half of a year, and now, forsooth,\nhe will overrun my city with armed men.  I marvel much where he will\nfind them!\"  \"Nevertheless,\" said Huon, \"you had better do this\nthing.\"  \"I would not do it,\" answered the Admiral, \"if Charlemagne\nand all his host were here.\"\n\nThen Huon blew the horn.  And Oberon heard it where he sat in his\npalace, and said, \"Hark! there is the horn once more, and methinks it\nsounds true.\"  And he wished, \"I would be in Babylon with one hundred\nthousand armed men.\"  And straightway it happened as he wished.  So\nOberon and Huon overran the city of Babylon.  All that would not be\nbaptized they slew, and among them the Admiral, who was stout in\nrefusing to leave his false gods, and all that consented to be\nbaptized he saved alive.  And Huon took to himself the Admiral's\nsceptre, and then Oberon wished again, and straightway he and Huon\nand all his company and the fair Esclairmonde were on the shore of\nthe sea.  And he caused that a goodly ship should be ready to take\nthem to their own land.  So Huon embarked with the fair Esclairmonde\nand all his people; also they took with them the chief treasures of\nthe city of Babylon.\n\nThen Oberon bade farewell to Huon, saying, \"See now that you tell the\ntruth and keep you from sin; so shall you prosper all your days, and\ncome to bliss when your days are ended.  And now render me again the\ncup and the horn, for you need them no more.\"\n\nThen Huon and his company and the fair Esclairmonde departed in the\nship, and in time came to the land of France.  There did Huon render\nto Charlemagne the Admiral's sceptre; and the King received him into\nhis royal favour, and gave him back his lands.  Then was Huon wedded\nto the fair Esclairmonde, and these two lived together in great\nhappiness to their lives' end.\n\n\nNot long after that Huon had been restored to his Duchy of Bordeaux,\nthe Emperor Charlemagne died, having been seized by a fever, which,\nas being now old and worn out by many labours both in war and peace,\nhe was unable to resist.  There had been, it is said, many signs of\nhis death--eclipses of the sun and moon, and other marvellous things.\nAlso, when he was making his last expedition against the Danes, he\nsaw a great light, as it were a blazing torch, pass through a clear\nsky and fall to the ground; and the horse on which he was riding fell\nto the ground with great violence.  Also the palace in which he dwelt\nat Aachen was shaken by earthquakes, and in the Church which he\nhimself had founded there happened this portent, that the word\nPRINCEPS, in the inscription which recorded this his munificence, so\nfaded away that it could no longer be read.  So Charlemagne died on\nthe 28th of January in the year of Our Salvation, 814.  He was buried\nin a sepulchral chamber in this same Church of Aachen.  Many years\nafter, the chamber having been opened, the body of the Emperor was\nfound seated on a throne as if he yet lived, clothed with imperial\nrobes, bearing on his head the crown, and grasping the sceptre in his\nhand, while by his side lay his sword Joyous, and on his knees was a\nbook of the Gospels.\n\nIn life he was of a tall and strong person, being seven feet in\nheight.  His eyes were large and piercing, his hair and beard long.\nHe was of pleasant speech, and could speak other tongues besides his\nown.  Writing he strove to acquire in his mature years, but could not\nlearn the art.  He was in truth a very noble and mighty prince.\n\n\n\nUNWIN BROTHERS, LIMITED, PRINTERS, WOKING AND LONDON.","title":"Stories of Charlemagne and the twelve Peers of France : $b from the old romances","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":79546}