Stories of Charlemagne and the twelve Peers of France

CHAPTER XXVIII

HOW THE HEATHEN AND THE FRENCH PREPARED FOR BATTLE

Oliver climbed to the top of a hill, and saw from thence the whole army of the heathen. He cried to Roland his companion, "I hear a great sound of men coming by way of Spain, and I see the flashing of arms. We men of France shall have no small trouble therefrom. This is the doing of Ganelon the traitor."

"Be silent," answered Roland, "till you shall know; say no more about him."

Oliver looked from the hilltop, and saw how the Saracens came on. So many there were that he could not count their battalions. He descended to the plain with all speed, and came to the array of the French, and said, "I have seen more heathen than man ever yet saw together upon the earth. There are a hundred thousand at the least. We shall have such a battle with them as has never before been fought. My brethren of France, quit you like men, be strong; stand firm that you be not conquered." And all the army shouted with one voice, "Cursed be he that shall fly."

Then Oliver turned to Roland, and said, "Sound your horn, my friend, Charles will hear it, and will return." "I were a fool," answered Roland, "so to do. Not so; but I will deal these heathen some mighty blows with Durendal my sword. They have been ill-advised to venture into these passes. I swear that they are condemned to death one and all."

After a while, Oliver said again, "Friend Roland, sound your horn of ivory. Then will the King return, and bring his army with him, to our help." But Roland answered again, "I will not do dishonour to my kinsmen, or to the fair land of France. I have my sword; that shall suffice for me. These evil-minded heathen are gathered together against us to their own hurt. Surely not one of them shall escape from death." "As for me," said Oliver, "I see not where the dishonour would be. I saw the valleys and the mountains covered with the great multitude of Saracens. Theirs is, in truth, a mighty array, and we are but few." "So much the better," answered Roland. "It makes my courage grow. 'Tis better to die than to be disgraced. And remember, the harder our blows the more the King will love us."

Roland was brave, but Oliver was wise. "Consider," he said, "comrade. These enemies are over-near to us, and the King over-far. Were he here, we should not be in danger; but there are some here to-day who will never fight in another battle."

Then Turpin the Archbishop struck spurs into his horse, and rode to a hilltop. Then he turned to the men of France, and spake: "Lords of France, King Charles has left us here; our King he is, and it is our duty to die for him. To-day our Christian Faith is in peril: do ye fight for it. Fight ye must; be sure of that, for there under your eyes are the Saracens. Confess, therefore, your sins, and pray to God that He have mercy upon you. And now for your soul's health I will give you all absolution. If you die, you will be God's martyrs, every one of you, and your places are ready for you in His Paradise."

Thereupon the men of France dismounted, and knelt upon the ground, and the Archbishop blessed them in God's name. "But look," said he, "I set you a penance—smite these pagans." Then the men of France rose to their feet. They had received absolution, and were set free from all their sins, and the Archbishop had blessed them in the name of God. After this they mounted their swift steeds, and clad themselves in armour, and made themselves ready for the battle.

Said Roland to Oliver, "Brother, you know that it is Ganelon who has betrayed us. Good store he has had of gold and silver as a reward; 'tis the King Marsilas that has made merchandise of us, but verily it is with our swords that he shall be paid." So saying, he rode on to the pass, mounted on his good steed Veillantif. His spear he held with the point to the sky; a white flag it bore with fringes of gold which fell down to his hands. A stalwart man was he, and his countenance was fair and smiling. Behind him followed Oliver, his friend; and the men of France pointed to him, saying, "See our champion!" Pride was in his eye when he looked towards the Saracens; but to the men of France his regard was all sweetness and humility. Full courteously he spake to them: "Ride not so fast, my lords," he said; "verily these heathen are come hither, seeking martyrdom. 'Tis a fair spoil that we shall gather from them to-day. Never has King of France gained any so rich." And as he spake, the two hosts came together.

Said Oliver, "You did not deem it fit, my lord, to sound your horn. Therefore you lack the help which the King would have sent. Not his the blame, for he knows nothing of what has chanced. But do you, lords of France, charge as fiercely as you may, and yield not one whit to the enemy. Think upon these two things only—how to deal a straight blow and to take it. And let us not forget King Charles's cry of battle." Then all the men of France with one voice cried out, "Mountjoy!" He that heard them so cry had never doubted that they were men of valour. Proud was their array as they rode on to battle, spurring their horses that they might speed the more. And the Saracens, on their part, came forward with a good heart. Thus did the Frenchmen and the heathen meet in the shock of battle.

CHAPTER XXIX

THE BATTLE

The first that rode forth from the array of the heathen was Ælroth, nephew to King Marsilas. Good were his arms, and his horse was both swift and strong. Grievous were the reproaches that he uttered against the men of France. "Are you come," said he, "ye robbers of France, to fight with us to-day? Know ye not that he who should have helped you has betrayed you? Verily, a fool was your Emperor to leave you in these passes, for the honour of fair France has perished to-day, and the great Charles has lost, as it were, the right arm from his body. So shall Spain have peace at last."

Roland heard these words with great grief in his heart. He spurred his steed with spurs of gold, and smote the heathen warrior with all his might. He brake his shield in twain, and severed the mail of his hauberk, and clave his body into two parts. A mighty stroke it was, and Roland cried aloud as he dealt it, "Learn now, thou wretch, that King Charles knows well what he does. He loves not treason or traitors. It was well done of him to leave us in these passes. France shall have no loss of honour this day. Strike, men of France, strike! The first blood is for us; these dogs of heathen shall suffer for their misdeeds."

Then came forth a Duke from the host of the Saracens, brother to King Marsilas, Fausseron by name. Never was a man on the earth more insolent and villainous. When he saw that his nephew was dead it cut him to the heart. He rushed out of the crowd, and, shouting out the battle-cry of the heathen, hurled himself on the ranks of France. "Fair France," said he, "shall lose her honour this day." Great was the rage of Oliver when he heard these mischievous words. He struck his spurs of gold into his charger's flanks, and smote Fausseron with a right knightly blow. His shield he shore in twain, and burst the links of his hauberk, and hurled him dead from his saddle. "Lie there," he said. "Who cares for thy threats, thou coward!" And, turning to the Frenchmen, he cried, "Strike, friends, strike! and we shall conquer the enemy. Mountjoy! 'Tis the King's own battle-cry!"

Then came forth another King, Corsablis by name. From the distant land of Barbary he came. He cried to his fellows in the army of the heathen, "Easily can we bear up the battle. Few are these Frenchmen, and of no account. Not a man of them shall escape, nor shall Charles their King help them. Verily the day has come for them to die." Turpin the Archbishop heard him—not one was there in all the heathen host whom Turpin more hated—and charged him, spear in hand, and bore him dead to the ground.

Full many of the heathen warriors fell that day. Not one of the Twelve Peers of France but slew his man. But of all none bare himself so valiantly as Roland. Many a blow did he deal to the enemy with his mighty spear, and when the spear was shivered in his hand, fifteen warriors having fallen before it, then he seized his good sword Durendal, and smote man after man to the ground. Red was he with the blood of his enemies. Red was his hauberk, red his arms, red his shoulders, aye, and the neck of his horse. Not one of the Twelve lingered in the rear, or was slow to strike, but Count Roland was the bravest of the brave. "Well done, Sons of France!" cried Turpin the Archbishop, when he saw them lay on in such sort.

Next to Roland for valour and hardihood came Oliver, his companion. Many a heathen warrior did he slay, till at last his spear was shivered in his hand. "What are you doing, comrade?" cried Roland, when he was aware of the mishap. "A man wants no staff in such a battle as this. 'Tis the steel and nothing else that he must have. Where is your sword Hautclere, with its hilt of gold and its pommel of crystal?" "On my word," said Oliver. "I have not had time to draw it; I was so busy with striking." But as he spake he drew the good sword from its scabbard, and smote a heathen knight, Justin of the Iron Valley. A mighty blow it was, cleaving the man in twain down to his saddle—aye, and the saddle itself with its adorning of gold and jewels, and the very backbone also of the steed whereon he rode, so that horse and man fell dead together on the plains. "Well done!" cried Roland; "you are a true brother of mine. 'Tis such strokes as this that makes the Emperor love us."

Nevertheless, for all the valour of Roland and his fellows the battle went hardly with the men of France. Many lances were shivered, many flags torn, and many gallant youths cut off in their prime. Never more would they see mother and wife. It was an ill deed that the traitor Ganelon wrought when he sold his fellows to King Marsilas!

And now there befell a new trouble. King Almaris, with a great host of heathen, coming by an unknown way, fell upon the rear of the host where there was another pass. Fiercely did the noble Walter that kept the same charge the new-comers, but they overpowered him and his followers. He was wounded with four several lances, and four times did he swoon, so that at the last he was constrained to leave the field of battle, that he might call the Count Roland to his aid. But small was the aid which Roland could give him or any one. Valiantly he held up the battle, and with him Oliver, and Turpin the Archbishop, and others also; but the lines of the men of France were broken, and their armour thrust through, and their spears shivered, and their flags trodden in the dust. For all this they made such slaughter among the heathen that King Almaris, who led the armies of the enemy, scarcely could win back his way to his own people, wounded in four places and sorely spent. A right good warrior was he; had he but been a Christian but few had matched him in battle!

He came to King Marsilas, where he stood among his princes, and fell at his feet; for indeed there was no strength left in him. "To horse!" he cried, "my lord, to horse! You will find the men of France worn out with the slaughter that they have wrought among us. Their spears are shivered and their swords broken; a full half of them are dead, and they that are left have no strength remaining in them. It will cost you but little to take vengeance for the multitudes whom they have slain. Believe me, my lord, these Frenchmen are ready to be conquered."

Then King Marsilas bade his host advance. A mighty army it was, divided into twenty columns, and the trumpets sounded the charge. Never was heard such a din in the land! "Oliver, my comrade," said Roland, when he heard it, "this traitor Ganelon has sworn our death. But if he compass it, surely our King will take a terrible vengeance. But as for us, we must do our duty as good knights, for verily this battle will be no child's play. Strike thou with thy sword Hautclere, and I will strike with my sword Durendal. Many a time have we wielded them side by side; many a victory have we won with them. Verily if we fall this day, these pagans shall not despise us."

The Archbishop, on his part, spake words of comfort to his people. "Let no one think of flight," he said; "never shall these heathen make songs upon us. 'Tis better far to die in battle. And if we die, as well may be, there is this of which I can assure you: the gates of Paradise shall be open to you. To-morrow, if so it be, you shall have a place among the saints." Then the men of France took fresh courage and made themselves ready for the battle.

King Marsilas said to his people, "Listen to me. This Roland is a great warrior; it will be no easy thing to conquer him. One battle we have fought against him and not prevailed; now will we fight another; if need be, and you will follow me, we will fight even a third. Of these twenty columns ten shall set themselves in array against the men of France, and ten shall remain with me. As I live, before this day is over, the power of King Charles shall be broken." So saying he gave a banner, richly embroidered, to the Emir Grandoigne; "Lead your men against the French," said he; "this shall be your warrant from me."

So the King abode where he was on the hilltop, but Grandoigne descended into the plain, having his banner carried before him. "To horse!" he cried, and the trumpets sounded, and the host moved on to the battle. And the French cried when they saw it, "Now what shall we do? Curses on this traitor Ganelon, who has sold us to the heathen!" But Turpin the Archbishop bade them be of good courage. "Bear you as men!" said he, "and God shall give you the crown of glory in Paradise. Only know that into Paradise a coward can in nowise come." "So be it," said the men of France, "we are few indeed, but we will not fail of our duty."

The first to charge from out of the ranks of the heathen was Chimborin, the same that had given to Ganelon the helmet with the great carbuncle on the vizor. His horse, Barbemouche by name, was swifter than a sparrow-hawk or a swallow. He rode at full speed, levelling his lance at Engelier the Gascon, and smote him through shield and hauberk so stoutly that the spear stood out of his body on the other side. "These Frenchmen are easy to conquer," he cried. "Strike, comrades, strike, and break their rank!" But all the Frenchmen cried out, "This is a grievous thing that so brave a warrior should be slain!"

Said Roland to Oliver, "Comrade, see Engelier the Gascon is slain; we had no braver knight in the host." "God grant that I may avenge him," answered Oliver, and struck spurs into his horse. In his hand was his trusty sword Hautclere, its blade red with blood. Therewith he smote Chimborin so mighty a blow that he slew both man and horse. Next he slew the Duke Alphais. Eight other Arab warriors he struck down from their saddles, and in such sort they would never join in the battle any more. "My comrade is in a goodly rage," cried Roland; "these are the blows that make King Charles love us. Strike, men of France, strike and cease not!"

The next that rode forth was the Emir Valdabrun, the same that had given to Ganelon the sword. He was a great ruler of the sea. Four hundred ships he had, and there was not a sailor but complained of his robberies. The same had taken by treachery, and slain the Patriarch of Antioch with the sword. This man smote Duke Samson, breaking with his spear both shield and hauberk, and so did him to death. "So shall all these wretches perish," he cried. And the men of France were sorely dismayed.

When Roland saw that the Duke Samson was dead, he rode fiercely at Valdabrun, and smote him so mightily with his great sword Durendal that he clave in twain helmet, head, and body, and saddle, and the very backbone of the horse, so that both fell dead together, both man and horse.

After this Malquidant, son of King Malquid of Africa slew Ansol. Him the Archbishop speedily avenged. Never priest that sang mass was so sturdy a warrior as he. With one blow of his good Toledo sword he slew the African. "He smites sore, does the Archbishop!" cried all the men of France when they saw the deed.

After this Grandoigne who was the leader of the host of heathen entered the battle. Five knights, valiant men of war all of them, he slew one after the other, so that the men of France cried, "How fast they fall, these champions of ours!"

Roland heard the cry, and it went near to break his heart, so great was his wrath. He rode straight at Grandoigne, and these two met in the middle space between the hosts. Among the heathen no man was braver or better at arms than Grandoigne, but he was no match for Roland. They had scarce met in the shock of battle when Roland with one mighty blow cleft him to his saddle, aye, and slew the horse on which he rode. Many other valiant deeds he wrought that day, nor did Oliver lag behind, nor Turpin the Archbishop, riding on the famous horse which he took from the King of Denmark. But though these and others also bore themselves right bravely, such was the multitude of the Saracens that in the end it carried all before it. Four times did the host of the Saracens advance, four times did the Frenchmen beat it back. But when it advanced for the fifth time, things went ill for the Christians. Great was the price at which they sold their lives; but scarcely threescore were left.

CHAPTER XXX

HOW ROLAND SOUNDED HIS HORN

Count Roland saw how grievously his people had suffered and spake thus to Oliver his comrade: "Dear comrade, you see how many brave men lie dead upon the ground. Well may we mourn for Fair France, widowed as she is of so many valiant champions. But why is our King not here? O Oliver, my brother, what shall we do to send him tidings of our state?" "I know not," answered Oliver. "Only this I know—that death is to be chosen rather than dishonour."

After a while Roland said again, "I shall blow my horn; King Charles will hear it, where he has encamped beyond the passes, and he and his host will come back." "That would be ill done," answered Oliver, "and shame both you and your race. When I gave you this counsel you would have none of it. Now I like it not. 'Tis not for a brave man to sound the horn and cry for help now that we are in such case." "The battle is too hard for us," said Roland again, "and I shall sound my horn, that the King may hear." And Oliver answered again, "When I gave you this counsel, you scorned it. Now I myself like it not. 'Tis true that had the King been here, we had not suffered this loss. But the blame is not his. 'Tis your folly, Count Roland, that has done to death all these men of France. But for that we should have conquered in this battle, and have taken and slain King Marsilas. But now we can do nothing for France and the King. We can but die. Woe is me for our country, aye, and for our friendship, which will come to a grievous end this day."

The Archbishop had perceived that the two were at variance, and spurred his horse till he came where they stood. "Listen to me," he said, "Sir Roland and Sir Oliver. I implore you not to fall out with each other in this fashion. We, sons of France, that are in this place, are of a truth condemned to death, neither will the sounding of your horn save us, for the King is far away, and cannot come in time. Nevertheless, I hold it to be well that you should sound it. When the King and his army shall come, they will find us dead—that I know full well. But they will avenge us, so that our enemies shall not go away rejoicing. And they will also recover our bodies, and will carry them away for burial in holy places, so that the dogs and wolves shall not devour them."

"You say well," cried Roland, and he put his horn to his lips, and gave so mighty a blast upon it, that the sound was heard thirty leagues away. King Charles and his men heard it, and the King said, "Our countrymen are fighting with the enemy." But Ganelon answered, "Sire, had any but you so spoken, I had said that he spoke falsely."

Then Roland blew his horn a second time; with great pain and anguish of body he blew it, and the red blood gushed from his lips; but the sound was heard yet further than at first. The King heard it, and all his nobles, and all his men. "That," said he, "is Roland's horn; he never had sounded it were he not in battle with the enemy." But Ganelon answered again: "Believe me, Sire, there is no battle. You are an old man, and you have the fancies of a child. You know what a mighty man of valour is this Roland. Think you that any one would dare to attack him? No one, of a truth. Ride on, Sire, why halt you here? The fair land of France is yet far away."

Roland blew his horn a third time, and when the King heard it he said, "He that blew that horn drew a deep breath." And Duke Naymes cried out, "Roland is in trouble; on my conscience he is fighting with the enemy. Some one has betrayed him; 'tis he, I doubt not, that would deceive you now. To arms, Sire! utter your war-cry, and help your own house and your country. You have heard the cry of the noble Roland."

Then King Charles bade all the trumpets sound, and forthwith all the men of France armed themselves, with helmets, and hauberks, and swords with pummels of gold. Mighty were their shields, and their lances strong, and the flags that they carried were white and red and blue. And when they made an end of their arming they rode back with all haste. There was not one of them but said to his comrade, "If we find Roland yet alive, what mighty strokes will we strike for him!"

But Ganelon the King handed over to the knaves of his kitchen. "Take this traitor," said he, "who has sold his country." Ill did Ganelon fare among them. They pulled out his hair and his beard and smote him with their staves; then they put a great chain, such as that with which a bear is bound, about his neck, and made him fast to a pack-horse.

This done, the King and his army hastened with all speed to the help of Roland. In the van and the rear sounded the trumpets as though they would answer Roland's horn. Full of wrath was King Charles as he rode; full of wrath were all the men of France. There was not one among them but wept and sobbed; there was not one but prayed, "Now, may God keep Roland alive till we come to the battlefield, so that we may strike a blow for him." Alas! it was all in vain; they could not come in time for all their speed.

CHAPTER XXXI

HOW OLIVER WAS SLAIN

Count Roland looked round on the mountain-sides and on the plains. Alas! how many noble sons of France he saw lying dead upon them! "Dear friends," he said, weeping as he spoke, "may God have mercy on you and receive you into His Paradise! More loyal followers have I never seen. How is the fair land of France widowed of her bravest, and I can give you no help. Oliver, dear comrade, we must not part. If the enemy slay me not here, surely I shall be slain by sorrow. Come, then, let us smite these heathen."

Thus did Roland again charge the enemy, his good sword Durendal in his hand; as the stag flies before the hounds, so did the heathen fly before Roland. "By my faith," cried the Archbishop when he saw him, "that is a right good knight! Such courage, and such a steed, and such arms I love well to see. If man be not brave and a stout fighter, he had better by far be a monk in some cloister where he may pray all day long for our sins."

But Roland cried again, "Strike home, men; have no mercy on these heathen dogs." So saying he charged the enemy, and on the other side King Marsilas came out to meet him. A great warrior was he, and his horse was fleeter than a falcon. First he slew Beuvon of Burgundy, and Ivan, and Gerard and other two: five knights he met, five he slew, but the sixth was the Count Roland himself. "Curse upon you!" cried the Count; "you have slain my comrades; verily you shall not go scatheless hence." Thereupon with one blow he smote off his right hand, and with another he shore off the head of the king's son Jurfalew. "Help us, Mahomet!" cried the heathen. "How these villains fight! They die rather than fly from the field of battle!" And King Marsilas, throwing down his shield upon the ground, fled from out the battle, and thousands fled with him, crying aloud, "Verily, the nephew of King Charles has won the day."

But alas! though the King fled, the Caliph remained. He was King of Carthage and of the whole land of Ethiopia. Chief of the black race was he, and a mighty man of valour. Fifty thousand warriors followed him; blacker than ink were they all, and with nothing that was white about them save only their teeth. "We have but a short time to live," cried Roland, when he saw the new host advancing to the battle. "But cursed would he be that does not sell his life dearly! Strike, comrades, strike! Let what will befall us, France shall not suffer disgrace. When the King shall come to see this field of battle, for one of us that he shall find dead there shall be full fifteen of the Saracens. He cannot but bless us for such valour." And Oliver cried aloud, "Ill luck to all laggards!" And the men of France that remained threw themselves upon the enemy.

But the heathen, when they saw how few they were, took fresh courage. And the Caliph, spurring his horse, rode against Oliver and smote him in the middle of his back, making his spear pass right through him. "That is a shrewd blow," he cried; "I have avenged my friends and countrymen upon you."

Then Oliver knew he was stricken to death, but he would not fall unavenged. With his great sword Hautclere he smote the Caliph on his head and cleft it to the teeth. "Curse on you, pagan. Neither your wife nor any woman in the land of your birth shall boast that you have taken a penny's worth from King Charles!" But to Roland he cried, "Come, comrade, help me; well I know that we two shall part in great sorrow this day." Roland came with all speed, and saw his friend, how he lay all pale and fainting on the ground and how the blood gushed in great streams from his wound. "I know not what to do," he cried. "This is an ill chance that has befallen you. Truly France is bereaved of her bravest son." So saying he went near to swoon in the saddle as he sat. Then there befell a strange thing. Oliver had lost so much of his blood that he could not any more see clearly or know who it was that was near him. So he raised up his arm and smote with all his strength that yet remained to him on the helmet of Roland his friend. The helmet he cleft in twain to the vizor; but by good fortune it wounded not the head. Roland looked at him and said in a gentle voice, "Did you this of set purpose? I am Roland your friend, and have not harmed you." "Ah!" said Oliver, "I hear you speak, but I cannot see you. Pardon me that I struck you; it was not done of set purpose." "It harmed me not," answered Roland; "with all my heart and before God I forgive you." And this was the way these two friends parted at the last.

And now Oliver felt the pains of death come over him. He could no longer see nor hear. He clomb down from his horse, and laid himself upon the ground, and clasping his hands lifted them to heaven and made his confession. "O Lord," he said, "take me into Paradise. And do Thou bless King Charles and the sweet land of France." And when he had said thus he died. And Roland looked at him as he lay. There was not upon earth a more sorrowful man than he. "Dear comrade," he said, "this is indeed an evil day. Many a year have we two been together. Never have I done wrong to you; never have you done wrong to me. How shall I bear to live without you?" And again he swooned where he sat on his horse. But the stirrup held him up that he did not fall to the ground.

CHAPTER XXXII

HOW ARCHBISHOP TURPIN DIED

When Roland came to himself he looked about him and saw how great was the calamity that had befallen his army. For now there were left alive to him two only, Turpin the Archbishop and Walter of Hum. Walter had but that moment come down from the hills where he had been fighting so fiercely with the heathen that all his men were dead; now he cried to Roland for help. "Noble Count, where are you? I am Walter of Hum, and am not unworthy to be your friend. Help me therefore. For see how my spear is broken and my shield cleft in twain, my hauberk is in pieces, and my body sorely wounded. I am about to die; but I have sold my life at a great price." When Roland heard him cry he set spurs to his horse and galloped to him. "Walter," said he, "you are a brave warrior and a trustworthy. Tell me now where are the thousand valiant men whom you took from my army. They were right good soldiers, and I am in sore need of them."

"They are dead," answered Walter; "you will see them no more. A sore battle we had with the Saracens yonder on the hills; they had the men of Canaan there and the men of Armenia and the Giants; there were no better men in their army than these. We dealt with them so that they will not boast themselves of this day's work. But it cost us dear; all the men of France lie dead on the plain, and I am wounded to the death. And now, Roland, blame me not that I fled; for you are my lord, and all my trust is in you."

"I blame you not," said Roland, "only as long as you live help me against the heathen." And as he spake he took his cloak and rent it into strips and bound up Walter's wounds therewith. This done he and Walter and the Archbishop set fiercely on the enemy. Five-and-twenty did Roland slay, and Walter slew six, and the Archbishop five. Three valiant men of war they were; fast and firm they stood one by the other; hundreds there were of the heathen, but they dared not come near to the three valiant champions of France. They stood far off, and cast at the three spears and darts and javelins and weapons of every kind. Walter of Hum was slain forthwith; and the Archbishop's armour was broken, and he wounded, and his horse slain under him. Nevertheless he lifted himself from the ground, still keeping a good heart in his breast. "They have not overcome me yet"; said he, "as long as a good soldier lives, he does not yield."

Roland took his horn once more and sounded it, for he would know whether King Charles were coming. Ah me! it was a feeble blast that he blew. But the King heard it, and he halted and listened. "My lords!" said he, "things go ill for us, I doubt not. To-day we shall lose, I fear me much, my brave nephew Roland. I know by the sound of his horn that he has but a short time to live. Put your horses to their full speed, if you would come in time to help him, and let a blast be sounded by every trumpet that there is in the army." So all the trumpets in the host sounded a blast; all the valleys and hills re-echoed with the sound; sore discouraged were the heathen when they heard it. "King Charles has come again," they cried; "we are all as dead men. When he comes he shall not find Roland alive." Then four hundred of them, the strongest and most valiant knights that were in the army of the heathen, gathered themselves into one company, and made a yet fiercer assault on Roland.

Roland saw them coming, and waited for them without fear. So long as he lived he would not yield himself to the enemy or give place to them. "Better death than flight," said he, as he mounted his good steed Veillantif, and rode towards the enemy. And by his side went Turpin the Archbishop on foot. Then said Roland to Turpin, "I am on horseback and you are on foot. But let us keep together; never will I leave you; we two will stand against these heathen dogs. They have not, I warrant, among them such a sword as Durendal." "Good," answered the Archbishop. "Shame to the man who does not smite his hardest. And though this be our last battle, I know well that King Charles will take ample vengeance for us."

When the heathen saw these two stand together they fell back in fear and hurled at them spears and darts and javelins without number. Roland's shield they broke and his hauberk; but him they hurt not; nevertheless they did him a grievous injury, for they killed his good steed Veillantif. Thirty wounds did Veillantif receive, and he fell dead under his master. Roland stood alone, for the heathen had fled from his presence, alone and on foot. Fain would he have followed after the enemy; but he could not. Then he bethought him of the Archbishop; when he looked, he saw him laid upon the plain. He unlaced his helmet and took the corslet from off him, and bound up his wounds with strips of his shirt of silk, and taking him in his arms laid him down softly on the grass. This done, he said to him, "Dear friend, suffer me to leave you awhile. All our comrades, the men whom we loved so much, are dead. Yet we must not leave them lying where they are. Listen then. I will go and seek for their bodies, and I will bring them hither, and set them in order before you." "Go," said the Archbishop, "and come back as soon as you may. The field is left to me and to you. Thanks be to God for the same!"

Then Roland went to seek his comrades. Alone he went, and passed over all the field of battle. He searched the mountains, he searched the valley. There he found the dead bodies of Gerier and of Engelier the Gascon, of Berenger and of Otho; and of others also. All the Peers of France he found where they lay. Then he carried them one by one and set them all on their knees before the Archbishop. Turpin could not choose but weep when he saw these brave comrades dead. He raised his hand and gave them his blessing. "Friends," said he, "an evil fate has overtaken you in this world; may the God of glory receive you in the world to come!"

Now Roland went again and searched the plain till he found the body of his comrade Oliver. Under a thorn he found it, and he raised it tenderly in his arms, and brought it back to where the Archbishop sat, and put it hard by the other Peers of France. And Turpin gave him also blessing and absolution. This done, Roland said with many tears, "Oliver, my brave comrade, never was there a better knight than you to break a lance, and shatter a shield, to give good counsel to the brave, and to put to shame traitors and cowards." And when he had said this he looked round on that fair company of the dead, and his heart failed within him. Such goodly knights they were, and so dear to him, and now they were gone. And he fell in a swoon upon the ground.

When the Archbishop saw him fall he reached out his hand and laid hold of the horn. There was a spring of water in the place, and he would fain give a draught to his comrade. Gathering all that he had of strength together, he lifted himself from the ground, stumbling and staggering he went, but his strength did not suffice for the task; before he had gone the length of a furlong he fell staggering to the ground, and the agony of death came upon him.

Roland came out of his swoon and lifted himself from the ground. He looked down and he looked up, and lo! on the other side of his dead comrades, stretched on the green grass, lay the great prince, the Archbishop. His life was well-nigh spent. "I have sinned," he said, and he clasped his hands and lifted them to heaven, and prayed to God that he would take him into Paradise. And with these words he died. This was the end of Turpin. Never was there a man who dealt with the heathen with mightier blows or weightier discourse. May the blessing of God be upon him!

When Roland saw that the Archbishop was dead, his heart was sorely troubled in him. Never did he feel a greater sorrow for comrade slain, save Oliver only. "Charles of France," he said, "come as quickly as you may, many a gallant knight have you lost in Roncesvalles. But King Marsilas, on his part, has lost his army. For one that has fallen on this side there has fallen full forty on that." So saying he turned to the Archbishop; he crossed the dead man's hands upon his breast and said, "I commit thee to the Father's mercy. Never has man served his God with a better will, never since the beginning of the world has there lived a sturdier champion of the faith. May God be good to you and give you all good things!"

CHAPTER XXXIII

THE DEATH OF ROLAND

Now Roland felt that death was near at hand. In one hand he took his horn, and in the other his good sword Durendal, and made his way the distance of a furlong or so till he came to a plain, and in the midst of the plain a little hill. On the top of the hill in the shade of two fair trees were four marble steps. There Roland fell in a swoon upon the grass. There a certain Saracen spied him. The fellow had feigned death, and had laid himself down among the slain, having covered his body and his face with blood. When he saw Roland, he raised himself from where he was lying among the slain and ran to the place, and, being full of pride and fury, seized the Count in his arms, crying aloud, "He is conquered, he is conquered, the famous nephew of King Charles! See, here is his sword; 'tis a noble spoil that I shall carry back with me to Arabia." Thereupon he took the sword in one hand, with the other he laid hold of Roland's beard. But as the man laid hold, Roland came to himself, and knew that some one was taking his sword from him. He opened his eyes but not a word did he speak save this only, "Fellow, you are none of ours," and he smote him a mighty blow upon his helmet. The steel he brake through and the head beneath, and laid the man dead at his feet. "Coward," he said, "what made you so bold that you dared lay hands on Roland? Whosoever knows him will think you a fool for your deed."

And now Roland knew that death was near at hand. He raised himself and gathered all his strength together—ah me! how pale his face was!—and took in his hand his good sword Durendal. Before him was a great rock, and on this in his rage and pain he smote ten mighty blows. Loud rang the steel upon the stone; but it neither brake nor splintered. "Help me," he cried, "O Mary, our Lady. O my good sword, my Durendal, what an evil lot is mine! In the day when I must part with you, my power over you is lost. Many a battle I have won with your help; and many a kingdom have I conquered, that my Lord Charles possesses this day. Never has any one possessed you that would fly before another. So long as I live, you shall not be taken from me, so long have you been in the hands of a loyal knight."

Then he smote a second time with the sword, this time upon the marble steps. Loud rang the steel, but neither brake nor splintered. Then Roland began to bemoan himself, "O my good Durendal," he said, "how bright and clear thou art, shining as shines the sun! Well I mind me of the day when a voice that seemed to come from heaven bade King Charles give thee to a valiant captain; and forthwith the good King girded it on my side. Many a land have I conquered with thee for him, and now how great is my grief! Can I die and leave thee to be handled by some heathen?" And the third time he smote a rock with it. Loud rang the steel, but it brake not, bounding back as though it would rise to the sky. And when Count Roland saw that he could not break the sword, he spake again but with more content in his heart. "O Durendal," he said, "a fair sword art thou, and holy as fair. There are holy relics in thy hilt, relics of St. Peter and St. Denis and St. Basil. These heathen shall never possess thee; nor shalt thou be held but by a Christian hand."

And now Roland knew that death was very near to him. He laid himself down with his head upon the grass, putting under him his horn and his sword, with his face turned towards the heathen foe. Ask you why he did so? To shew, forsooth, to Charlemagne and the men of France, that he died in the midst of victory. This done he made a loud confession of his sins, stretching his hand to heaven. "Forgive me, Lord," he cried, "my sins, little and great, all that I have committed since the day of my birth to this hour in which I am stricken to death." So he prayed; and, as he lay, he thought of many things, of the countries which he had conquered, and of his dear Fatherland France, and of his kinsfolk, and of the good King Charles. Nor, as he thought, could he keep himself from sighs and tears; yet one thing he remembered beyond all others—to pray for forgiveness of his sins. "O Lord," he said, "who art the God of truth, and didst save Daniel Thy prophet from the lions, do Thou save my soul and defend it against all perils!" So speaking he raised his right hand, with the gauntlet yet upon it, to the sky, and his head fell back upon his arm and the angels carried him to heaven. So died the great Count Roland.

CHAPTER XXXIV

HOW CHARLEMAGNE SOUGHT VENGEANCE

Not many hours after these things King Charles came to Roncesvalles. It was a grievous sight that he saw; there was not a foot of earth on which there lay not the body of some Frenchman or heathen. And the King cried aloud, calling the dead men by name. "Where are you, Roland?" he said; "and you, Oliver?" All the Twelve Peers whom he had left behind to guard the passes he called, but no man answered. Charles wept for sadness of heart, and his nobles wept with him; there was not one of all that company but had lost son or brother or comrade or friend. Then spake up the Duke Naymes, "Sire," said he, "see you that cloud of dust, two leagues away? 'Tis the dust of a great multitude, even of the heathen army. Ride, Sire, and take vengeance for these warriors whom you have lost." "What!" answered the King, "are they already so far? Then must we make haste, for they have robbed me of the very flower of France." Then he turned to his nobles, and called four by name, and said to them, "Guard this field, these valleys and these hills. Let the dead lie as they are, but take good care that no beast of the field touch them, nor any follower of the camp. Make sure that no one lay a hand upon them till I come back." And the four answered, "So will we do, Sire;" and the King left with them a thousand horsemen for a guard.

This done, he made haste to pursue the army of the heathen. The day was drawing to sunset, but yet he overtook the enemy before darkness fell. Some say that God wrought a great miracle for the King, staying the sun in the heaven, till he should have avenged him of his enemies. Be that as it may, this is certain, that he overtook the Saracens and slew them with a great slaughter. Many fell by the sword, and they who escaped the sword threw themselves into the river, the river Ebro, and thus perished by drowning. And the men of France cried, mocking them, "You have seen Roland; but it has not turned to your good."

And now the night came on, and the King said, "We must think of our camp; 'tis over-late to return to Roncesvalles." "It is well," answered his nobles. So they unsaddled their horses, and laid themselves down on the green grass and slept. None kept watch that night. As for the King, he lay down to rest in a certain meadow, his spear by his pillow, for he would not be far from his arms. His good sword Joyous was on his side. It was a marvellous weapon, for it had in its hilt the iron of the spear with which the side of the Lord Christ was pierced as He hung upon the cross. For a time the King thought with tears about the good knights whom he had lost, Roland his nephew, and many another who had fallen on his field. But at last his weariness overcame him, and he slept. And as he slept he dreamed two dreams. In the first dream he saw how there gathered a great tempest in the heavens, with thunders and lightnings and hail and wind, and how this fell upon his army, and how the lances caught fire, and how the shields glowed with heat, and the corslets rattled with the stroke of the hail. After this he saw how a multitude of wild beasts, bears, and leopards, and snakes, and monsters such as griffins rushed upon the host as to devour them. And he heard the men cry, "Help us, King Charles, help us!" But when he would have gone to help them a great lion out of the forest flew on him. Then he and the great beast wrestled together. But who prevailed, he knew not. He did not wake from his sleep, but his dream was changed. And the second dream that he dreamed was this: He thought he was at his palace at Aachen, and that he sat upon steps, holding a bear that was bound with a double chain. And in his dream he saw how that there came out of the forest of Ardennes thirty other bears who spake each with the voice of a man. "Give him back to us, Sire," they said. "It is not right that you should keep him so long. He is our kinsman, and we must help him." And then—this was his dream—a fair greyhound came and attacked the greatest of these wild beasts. But who was the conqueror in this conflict also, he could not see. After this King Charles awoke from his sleep.

Meanwhile King Marsilas came in his flight to Saragossa. He gave his sword and his armour to his servants, and laid himself down in sore distress upon the green grass under an olive-tree. He had lost his right hand, and was faint with the bleeding. Loudly did his Queen Branimonde lament over him. As for his servants they cursed King Charles and the land of France, and vehemently reproached their god Apollyon. "Villain of a god!" they cried, "why dost thou put us to such shame? Why dost thou so confound our King? This is an ill return to those who do thee honour." So saying they took from the god his sceptre and crown, and brake him to pieces with their staves. Never before was a god so ill-treated of his worshippers.

Then said the Queen to herself, in the midst of her tears, "Now a curse upon these gods who have failed us in the day of battle. We have the Emir only who can help us. Surely he cannot be so base as not to fight against these men of France!" So King Marsilas sent an ambassador praying him for help. "Of a truth," he said, "if you fail me I will cast away my gods, and take upon me the faith of Christ, and make peace with King Charles."

When the Emir heard this he gathered together the people of his four kingdoms, and put them on board a fleet of ships, and set forth to sea. Quickly did they come to the land of Spain; nor did they halt till they came to the city of Saragossa. Then the servants of the Emir spread on the grass a carpet of white silk, and on it they set an ivory chair. The Emir sat upon it, and his chiefs stood round about.

"Listen!" said the Emir, "This Charles has troubled the land of Spain too long. I will attack him in his own country, even in France. Nothing shall hinder me from bringing him to my feet or slaying him." And as he spake he struck his knee with the gauntlet of his right hand. Then he called to him two of his chiefs and said, "Go now to King Marsilas and say to him: I come to help you against the men of France. Come and pay me homage, and I will make war upon King Charles, even in his own land of France. Verily if he do not fall at my feet and beg for pardon, and renounce the faith of Christ, I will tear his crown from his head. Take him also, for a token, this gauntlet and this staff of gold." And all his nobles cried, "It is well said."

So the two envoys went, carrying, one the gauntlet and the other the staff. When they had passed through the gates of Saragossa, they saw a great multitude of men lamenting. "The gods have dealt ill with us," said they; "our King is wounded to the death, and his son is dead, and Spain will be the prey of the Christian dogs." When they were come to the palace they made their salutations, saying,

"Now may Apollyon and Mahomet have King Marsilas and Queen Branimonde in their keeping!" "Nay," said the Queen, "what folly is this? Our gods have deserted us. See what they suffered to befall the King my husband." The envoy answered, "A truce to such words! The Emir our master bade us say, 'I will deliver King Marsilas; as for this Charles, I will attack him in his own land of France. This gauntlet and this staff he sends for a proof of his words.'" Queen Branimonde made answer, "You have no need to go to France. Here in this land of Spain you may meet King Charles, and of a truth you will find him a great warrior."

Then said the King, "You see, my lords, that I am in evil case. I have none to come after me, neither son nor daughter. A son I had but yesterday, but the Count Roland slew him. Say to your master for me, I yield you this land of Spain; only guard it against the Christians! And bid him come to me; I will give him useful counsel about King Charles; and take him the keys of this city of Saragossa. As for Charles he is encamped by the river Ebro, seven leagues hence. There will the Emir find him, for of a truth the men of France will not refuse the battle."

Then the envoys returned to the Emir, and told him all that happened—how King Charles had left Roland and the Peers to guard the passes, and how they had been slain, and what great loss King Marsilas had suffered, and how he yielded to him the whole land of Spain, and how King Charles and his men were in camp by the Ebro. Then the Emir commanded his men that they should make ready for the march. "Make haste," he said, "or these Frenchmen will escape us."

Meanwhile King Charles had made search for the body of his nephew, the Count Roland, and for the others that had fallen with him. And when these had been found, he caused that the rest should be buried with great honour, but three of the bodies, Roland, to wit, and Oliver, and Turpin the Archbishop, he commanded to be set aside. The hearts of these three were taken out of their bodies and wrapped in silk, and then enclosed in coffins of white marble. But the bodies were wrapped in deer-skins, with store of spices, and set each in a carriage, that they might be taken to the town of Blois.

When these things had been done, there came two envoys from the Emir, bearing this message. "The Emir brings against you a great army from the land of Arabia. Take heed, therefore, for he will make proof of you to-day, whether you are indeed a man of courage."

The King made no answer to these words, save that he cried to his men, with a loud voice, "To arms! To arms!" Then without delay he armed himself, donning his corslet and lacing his helmet, and taking in his hand his good sword Joyous, and when he had mounted his good steed he rode forth in front of his army. "Never was more kingly man!" said all the army. And the King said, as he looked upon the army, "Who would not trust such men? If only these heathen stand their ground, surely they shall pay dearly for the death of Roland." "God grant it be so!" said the Duke Naymes. Then the King called to him two lords: "You shall take the place of Roland and Oliver; one of you shall carry the sword, and one the horn." And after this he set his whole army in array.

Meanwhile the envoys of the Emir returned to him. "We have seen King Charles," they said. "He is brave, and brave are they that follow him, nor will they fail the King. You will have to do battle with them. Therefore arm yourself." "That is good news for all that are of a good courage," said the Emir. "Sound the trumpets, that my people may make themselves ready." A mighty warrior was he, with deep chest and broad shoulders, over which his hair fell in curls, with fair face and shining eyes; of his courage he had given proofs without number. What a gallant knight he had been, were he but a Christian man! He had a sword of renown, which he called Precious, and a great bear-spear, Matté by name. A gallant knight also was the Prince Malprime, his son. "Forward, Sire," said the Prince to his father. "Shall we see King Charles to-day?" "Yes," answered the Emir, "for he is a brave man, and all speak of him with honour. Nevertheless, now that he has lost the Count Roland his nephew, he can scarcely hold his ground before us. Yet we shall have a great battle to fight." "Be it so," said the Prince. "I ask from you the honour of striking the first blow." "It shall be yours," said the Emir.

Then the Emir set his battle in array, so that the two hosts stood over against each other. There was neither hill nor valley nor forest between them; each was in full sight of the other. Splendid and terrible they were to view, so brightly shone the helmets and bucklers and shields and spears. And bright and clear was the sound of the trumpets; but the brightest and clearest of all was the horn of Charles the great King. And first the Emir rode forth in front of his army. "Follow me!" he cried to his army, "I will show you the way." And he brandished his spear, turning the point towards the King of France. And King Charles, on his part, when he saw the Emir, and his standard, the Dragon, borne after him, cried with a loud voice, "Lords of France, you have fought many battles, and now there is yet one more for you to fight. See, then, this host of heathens. Many they are in number. But what matters the multitude of them? Follow me!" Thereupon he spurred his charger. The good steed bounded forward, and all the men of France cried out, "A brave man is our King; not one of us will fail him." The first that dealt a blow to the enemy was the Count Rabel. Spurring his horse, he charged Torlen, the King of Persia, and struck his shield fairly with his spear. The good steel pierced shield and corslet, and the King fell dead upon the field. "Strike! strike for Charles and the Right!" cried all the men of France when they saw the Persian fall.

On the other side the Prince Malprime, son to the Emir, rode forward on his white horse, charging into the midst of the army of France, and striking down warrior after warrior. "See!" cried the Emir, "see, my son, how he is seeking for the King of the French! There is no better soldier than he. Follow him and the victory shall be yours, and all the prizes of victory, lands, and castles, and gold and fair women." Nor did the chiefs of the heathen delay to charge. Fiercely did they ride forward, and the battle raged over the plain. When the Duke Naymes saw how the Prince Malprime was breaking the ranks of France, dealing death at every blow, he charged him, spear in rest. He drave the point through the upper rim of his shield and through his corslet, deep into his side, and laid him dead on the field. But when King Canaben, who was uncle to the Prince, saw what had befallen his nephew, he rode at the Duke, and, drawing his sword, dealt him a great blow on the helmet. Half of the helmet and laces wherewith it was laced were shorn off by the stroke, and the edge of the sword touched the flesh itself. The Duke yet clung with one arm to the neck of his horse; if the heathen deal him another such blow he is lost. But, thanks to God, King Charles came to his help. He struck King Canaben through the vizor of his helmet with his boar-spear, and with the one blow laid him dead to the ground.

Elsewhere in the field the Emir wrought great havoc in the ranks of France, slaying chief after chief, among them the old man Richard, Duke of the Normans. Behind him followed many heathen knights. Many valorous deeds they did. Where the Emir led the ranks of the heathen there the men of France suffered grievous loss, and now there came one who brought him tidings of ill. "The Prince Malprime, your son, is slain," said the man; "also King Canaben, your brother, is slain." The Emir had well-nigh died of grief to hear such evil news; but he called to him one of his wisest counsellors. "Come near," said he; "you are loyal and wise, and I have ever followed your counsel. Tell me now, will the day go for the Arabs or for the men of France?" "Sire," the sage replied, "you are in evil case. As for your gods, look not to them for help. Call now your Turks and Arabs, and, above all, your Giants to the front. With them you may yet win the day."

Then the Emir put his horn to his mouth and blew a call, loud and clear. The Turks and the Arabs and the Giants answered thereto. Mighty warriors they were, and fierce was the charge they made; so fierce that they brake the army of France in twain. But when Ogier the Dane saw what had befallen the King's army he said to him, "See you how the heathen are breaking our ranks and slaying our men. If you would bear your crown where it should be borne you must strike with all your might."

Then the King rode forward, and with him the Duke Naymes, and Ogier the Dane, and Geoffrey Count of Anjou. All quitted themselves as good knights, but there was none who bore himself so bravely as Ogier the Dane. Many he slew, among them the heathen knight who carried the Emir's standard. Sore discouraged was the Emir when he saw his standard in the dust, but the heart of King Charles was high with hope. "Sons of France, will you help me?" he cried. "'Tis a wrong even to ask us," said they; "cursed be he who shall not strike with his whole heart!" And now, as the day drew to the evening, these two met in combat, King Charles and the Emir. Fierce was the encounter between them, and many and sore were the blows they dealt the one to the other. At last it chanced that the bands of each man's saddle was cleft through, so that they fell both to the ground. Quickly did they rise to their feet, and drawing their swords, closed fiercely in fight. It was, indeed, a battle to the death. First the Emir spoke, saying, "King Charles, you have slain my son; you have wrongfully invaded my land. Yet if you will pay me homage I will grant it to you to hold in fief." "That were a foul disgrace," King Charles made answer; "never will I grant to a heathen either peace or life. Become a Christian, and you shall have all that I have to give." "These are but idle words," answered the Emir; "I had sooner die." And as he spake he dealt King Charles a mighty blow upon the helmet. The sword brake the iron, and shore away a palm's breadth of the scalp. The King reeled in his place, and had well-nigh fallen to the ground. But God willed otherwise, for the angel that guarded him whispered in his ear, "Charles, what doest thou?" And when he heard the angel's voice he thought no more of danger or death. Gathering all his strength into one mighty blow, he severed the enemy's head in twain. Down to the chin he cleft it, and the Emir fell dead upon the plain.

So soon as the heathen saw that their leader was slain they fled in hot haste, and the men of France pursued them even to the walls of Saragossa. There stood Queen Branimonde, with her priests about her, waiting and watching for news of the war. But when the Queen saw the multitude of them that fled she hastened to King Marsilas, and said to him, "O Sire, our people are vanquished, and the Emir is dead." When King Marsilas heard these words he turned him to the wall, and covered his face and wept. So great was his grief that his heart was broken in his breast, and he died.

As for the town, none of the heathen had any thought of defending it. They suffered the gates to be broken down without any hindrance, and the Queen surrendered to King Charles all the towers, great and small. Of a truth, he works well who works with God.

As soon as it was day King Charles bade his men break down all the things that the heathen counted holy. As for the people, they were brought to the water of baptism. Such as were not willing to be baptized into the faith, these the King caused to be hanged, or slain with the sword, or burnt with the fire. But the greater part readily obeyed the King's command, and were made good Christians, one hundred thousand of them at the least.

After these things the King departed from Saragossa, leaving a thousand men to keep the town for him. He took Queen Branimonde with him; also he took the bodies of Roland and Oliver and of Turpin the Archbishop, and caused them to be honourably buried at Blois.

When King Charles was come back to the fair town of Aachen, it was told him that a fair lady desired to see him. So he commanded that she should be brought before him. When she came back she was Alda the Fair. She said, "Tell me, O King, where is the Earl Roland? He is promised to be my husband." The King was greatly troubled to hear these words. He wept and tore his white beard. "My sister," he said, when he found his speech, "my dear sister. You ask me news of a dead man. But comfort yourself. Roland we shall see no more, but you shall have my son Lewis, he that is to be Warden of the Marches, in his place." "These are strange words," said Alda the Fair; "God and His blessed saints forbid that I should live now that my Roland is dead," and as she spake she grew deadly pale, and fell at the King's feet, and when they took her up, lo! she was dead. When the King saw this he called to him four countesses and bade them carry her to a nunnery that was hard by. All that night these noble ladies watched by her dead body; the day following she was buried by the altar with great honour.

CHAPTER XXXV

OF THE PUNISHMENT OF GANELON

The King sent messengers to all parts of his dominions, bidding all the judges learned in the law come to him at his palace at Aachen. So the judges came as he commanded, and were gathered together on the Feast of St. Silvester, which was the last day of December. When they were all assembled he bade the Serjeants fetch Ganelon out of his prison, and bring him before the judges. When they had done this, the King said, "My Lords, I would have you judge this man Ganelon. He came with me when I went with my army to the land of Spain; he has robbed me of twenty thousand men of France; he has robbed me of Roland my nephew, whom we shall see no more, and of Oliver the courteous knight, and of the Twelve Peers of France—and all this he has done for the sake of money."

"It is true," said Ganelon; "may a curse fall on me if I deny it. But listen; Roland did me wrong in the matter of gold and silver. Therefore I sought to revenge myself upon him; and I compassed his death. That I confess; but I deny that I wrought any treason." So Ganelon spake, as he stood before the King. He was of a fair presence, and had been a noble knight if only he had been true of heart.

Ganelon spake again, saying, "I beseech you, my lords, to hear my defence. When I was in the King's army I served him loyally and well. But my nephew Roland cherished in his heart a great hatred of me, and would have done me to death. Did he not bring it about that I was sent on an embassy to King Marsilas? If I escaped, it was of my own contriving. Thereupon I bade defiance to Roland and to Oliver and to all his company, as the King and all here present will bear witness. This was revenge, I confess, but I affirm it was not treason."

Now there had come to the support of Ganelon thirty men of his kindred, of whom the chief was a certain Pinabel. A great orator was this Pinabel, when there was need of pleading a cause, and a good soldier also, when there was need of arms. To him said Ganelon, "I trust in you, and you only; you can deliver me from dishonour and death." "You shall have a champion," answered Pinabel; "the first man that shall pronounce against you the sentence of death, to him will I give the lie with the edge of this sword." Thereupon Ganelon fell at his feet and thanked him.

A great company from many regions were gathered together to the King at Aachen; men from Saxony and from Bavaria, and from Poitou, Normans, and French, and Germans from beyond the Rhine. And of all none had more favour for Ganelon than the barons of Auvergne. "Let the matter rest where it is," said they. "We will beseech the King to show mercy to Ganelon. Roland is dead, and all the gold and silver in the world will not bring him back. As for fighting, it is sheer folly." To this all the barons agreed—all save one, Thierry, to wit, that was brother to Geoffrey of Anjou. Thereupon the barons of Auvergne went to the King and said, "Sire, we beseech you, to hold the Count quit of this charge. Henceforth he will serve you with all good faith and loyalty. Suffer him to live, for he is a nobleman. As for Roland, he is dead and neither gold nor silver will bring him back." "You are nothing but traitors, all of you!" cried the King in great anger. But when he saw how the barons favoured these words, he was greatly troubled. Thereupon Thierry, that was brother to Geoffrey of Anjou, stood before him, and said, "Trouble not yourself, my good lord. Beyond all doubt, this Ganelon is a traitor. Though Roland may have done him wrong, for your sake he should have suffered him to go unscathed. Therefore I pronounce sentence of death upon him, that he be hanged by the heels till he die, and that they throw his carcase to the dogs. This is the just punishment of traitors. And if any kinsman of his say me nay, then will I give him the lie with the edge of the sword." So spake the Count Thierry, and all the men of France cried with one voice, "It is well said."

Pinabel, when he heard these words, came near to the King. "Sire," said he, "bid them cease from this clamour. The Count Thierry has given his judgment; I, for my part, say that he has lied. Let us put the matter to the trial of the sword." "So be it," answered the King; "but I must have hostages." Thereupon thirty kinsmen of the Count offered themselves. And the King, on his part offered hostages also.

First the two champions made confession and received absolution. Also they gave great alms to the poor. After this they armed themselves for the battle. There is a great plain near to the city of Aachen; on this the two champions met to do battle, the one for the good name of Roland and his comrades, the other for Ganelon. First they charged with their spears in rest. So equally matched were they that neither gained any advantage in the encounter. The spurs of both were broken; the corslets of both were broken through, and the belts of the horses were so torn that the saddles turned in their place. So the two champions were unhorsed. Quickly did they leap to their feet, and fall to with their swords. Mighty blows did they both deal, and the men of France were in great fear. Then Pinabel cried aloud, "Take back your words, Count Thierry, I will be your friend and comrade, and divide my wealth with you, if only you will make Ganelon friends with the King." "Far be it from me!" answered Thierry. "Never will I do such a thing. God shall judge between us." After a while he spake again; "Pinabel, you are a true knight, strong, and of a noble presence, and all men know your courage. Have done with this battle. I will make peace between you and the King. As for Ganelon, let him have his deserts." "God forbid," answered Pinabel, "that I should desert my kinsman." So the champions turned again to the duel. First Pinabel struck a mighty blow, and wounded Thierry on the right cheek, coming near to slay him outright. But God preserved him, for was he not champion of the right! Then Thierry, in his turn, smote his adversary. On the helmet fell the blow, cleaving it in twain, and the skull beneath, so that the man's brain was scattered on the earth.