The next day, Ralph, having thought much on what he had undertaken, loaded his mare, as he was wont to do, with two panniers full of coals, and made ready to start on his journey to the court. "This is not of my counsel," said Gillian his wife; "this journey will not be to your profit. Remember the shrewd blow that you dealt him. Keep from the Court, say I." "Nay, Gill," said the Charcoal-burner, "I must have my way. I promised that I would go, and go I will, whether my going be for profit or for harm." So he loaded the panniers and went his way to the Court.
Meanwhile King Charles had not forgotten the matter. He called Roland to him, for, indeed, there was no man whom he trusted more, and said to him, "To-morrow morning take your horse and your harness, and watch well the road by which we went on the day that I was lost, and if you see anyone coming this way, whatever his errand may be, bring him with you to this place, and take care that he sees no one before he sees me."
Roland wondered much what the King might mean, for it seemed a strange thing that on the very day of Yuletide, when a man should rest, he should be sent on such an errand. Nevertheless he took his horse and his harness and rode forth early in the morning, and watched the roads as he had been commanded. For a long time he saw nothing either far or near; but a little past midday he saw the Charcoal-burner come driving his mare before him with two panniers filled with coals. The sight pleased him well; so he rode up to him with all the speed that he could. The man saluted him courteously, and Roland, in his turn, also saluted him. Their greetings ended, he said to the man, "Come now to the King; let nothing hinder you." "Nay," said Ralph, "I am not so foolish. This is a jest, Sir Knight, and it is ill courtesy for a knight to jest with a common man. There be many men better than I that come and go to Paris, and the King has no thought of them, whether it be morning or night. If you are in mind to trick me, I can hold my own, for all that I am ill-clad." "This is but foolishness," said Roland, "the King has straightly commanded that you should be brought to him." "Nay," answered Ralph, "I am on my way, according to promise made to one Wymond, and to him I will go and to none other." "Have done with your Wymond," cried Roland, "I must take you to the King as the King has commanded."
So they wrangled a long time, and still the churl was firmly set that he would go to Wymond and to none other. "And where dwells this Wymond of yours?" said Roland. "He dwells with the Queen at Paris, if his tale be true." "If that be so," answered Roland, "seeing that I know well the Queen and her ladies, and you are on your way to them, I will trust to your going. Only you must give me a pledge that this is truly your purpose." "Nay," said the Charcoal-burner, "I will pledge you no pledge. And as for you, get you out of my way, or it will be the worse for you."
Roland said to himself, "Now this is but folly to continue any longer with this fellow." And he took his leave of the man full pleasantly. But Ralph liked not such ways; for he thought that this knight that was so gaily clad had him in scorn. "Come hither, Sir Knight, to-morrow when we can be alone together, you and I; surely you shall see how I will deal with you."
Then Roland rode back to the King. By this time Mass was ended, and the King had put on his robes. "You are well come, Sir Roland," said he, "have you done my errand?" "Sire," answered Sir Roland, "I went as you gave me commandment, and watched the ways, but saw no man, but one only." "And who was this one?" asked the King. "He," said Roland, "was but a churl that had with him two panniers of coal." "Why did you not bring this said churl to me, as I bid you? It may be you durst not."
Roland saw that the King was wroth, and was not a little glad to go forth from his presence. Going forth he met a porter, "Whither go you, lazy loon?" said he. Said the porter, "There is one at the gate, a churl that has a mare and two panniers of coals, and he clamours to be let in at the gate." "Whom does he want?" said Roland. The porter answered, "He asks for one Wymond." Then Roland said, "Go back to your place, porter, and open the gate and bid him enter. But say that it does not lie within your office to go to this Wymond, but that he must himself seek him."
So the porter went back to the gate and opened it, saying to the Charcoal-burner, "Enter, man; but I have no leisure to seek for this Wymond for whom you ask. You must seek him yourself." Said Ralph, "If you will not seek the man, I must needs do it myself; see you then that no harm come to the mare and the coals, and I will look for Wymond, for certainly it was he that bade me come hither."
RALPH IN THE PALACE OF CHARLEMAGNE.
RALPH IN THE PALACE OF CHARLEMAGNE.
So the Charcoal-burner went his way through the palace asking for Wymond. There was not one that knew the man, or had so much as heard the name. They seemed to Ralph to lack courtesy; nevertheless he would not cease from his quest, nor was there any one of whom he failed to inquire. After he had passed through many chambers he came to one that was more splendid than all that he had seen before. It was a great hall finely painted and hung about with tapestries, and there the King sate at dinner in great state. On the table were many dainties, and there was a store of dishes, both silver and gold, and many other adornments. "Here is royalty enough," cried Ralph. "If I could only have speech with Wymond, I would away, for this methinks is no place for a simple man." And still he went on. Many sought to put him back, for he seemed to press on in an unmannerly fashion; but he was a stalwart man that gave as much as he took.
At last, after not a little trouble, he got sight of the King, where he sat in state at the table. "See," he cried, "that is Wymond, yonder, the man whom I seek. Well do I know him, though, indeed, he is otherwise clad than when I last saw him. Now he is in cloth of gold. Truly he must be some greater man than he said. Alas, that I have been wiled hither. Truly this man has beguiled me." When the King heard this he laughed.
Ralph looked about on the company that sat with the King, for many worshipful men were there. But when he saw the Queen, then he was greatly troubled. "Lady," he said, "I am sorely troubled to see your fine attire, so splendid is it. Now if I can but escape hence this day, nothing in the whole world shall bring me hither again."
And now, dinner being over, the King rose from the table; and he told before the whole company how he had fared with the Charcoal-burner. The churl quaked as he heard the tale. And he said, "Would I were on the moor again this very hour, and the King alone, or any one of his knights, be he the bravest and strongest of them all."
Then the lords laughed aloud. Some, however, were angry, and would have had the man hanged. "What is this churl," said they, "that he should so misuse the King?" But Charles would have none of such doings. "He is a stalwart man, and can strike a hard blow. Heaven forbid that I should harm him. Rather will I make him a knight." So he dubbed Ralph the Charcoal-burner a knight, and gave him a revenue of £300 by the year, and "the next fee in France that shall come into my hands, that," said he, "will I give you. But now you must win your spurs." So the King gave him his armour and arms, and sixty squires of good degree to be his company. And Ralph was in after time a very perfect, noble knight, and did good service to the King.
Balan, who was admiral of the Moors in Spain, had a son, Fierabras by name, who was the most marvellous giant that ever was born of woman. There was no man that could be matched with him for height, and bigness of limb, and strength of body. This Fierabras was King of Alexandria, and ruled the whole land of Babylon from the Red Sea eastwards. Russia also he possessed, and Cologne; he was lord, moreover, of Jerusalem, and had possession of the Sepulchre of our Lord. It happened on a certain day that this man came riding furiously to the camp where King Charles lay with his army, and asked that some one should come forth and fight with him. No man answering him or coming forth, he fell into a great rage and sware by his god Mahomet that he would not depart from the place till he should have done battle with some Christian man; but still no one came forth to him. Then he cried with a very loud and terrible voice, "King of Paris, send out to me your strongest and bravest knight, be he Roland, or Oliver, or Thierry, or Ogier the Dane, that he may fight with me. Nay, and if you will send out against me six or seven of your strongest knights, I swear by my god Mahomet that I will not refuse to fight with them all. But if you will not send out any man, then I will assuredly assail your camp before nightfall this very day, and strike off your head, and lead away Roland and Oliver as prisoners. You have come into this my land without cause, and verily you shall depart without honour."
When he had thus spoken he lay down under a tree, and having tied his horse to one of the boughs, took off his armour. This done, he cried to the King, "Send now Roland or Oliver to fight with me. And if these dare not come alone then let two others come together with them; and if the four be afraid let six come. Ten kings have I slain already in single combat; there was not one of them, for all that they were mighty men of valour, that could stand against me."
When King Charles heard these threatenings and challenges he said to Richard of Normandy, "Who is this knight that speaks so boldly?"
Duke Richard answered, "This, my lord King, is the strongest of all men born of women, and he is persuaded that there is no king in the whole world that is a match for him."
"For all that," said the king, "I will find one of my knights that shall encounter him. But tell me his name."
"His name," answered Duke Richard, "is Fierabras. He is an infidel, and has done much harm to Christian men. For he slew our lord the Pope, and hanged many holy men and women, and to this day he holds possession of the holy Sepulchre of our Lord."
"I am the more firmly resolved," said the King, "hearing what you say, that one of my knights shall meet him." Thereupon he turned to Roland and said, "I pray you, dear nephew, go forth and meet this Turk in battle."
But Roland answered him, "Not so, fair uncle; why should I do your bidding in this matter? Do you bear in mind what happened but yesterday, when we were so near to being taken by the heathen, how they fell upon us with fifty thousand men and how we the younger knights bore the burden and brunt of the day and suffered many grievous wounds, so that Oliver my comrade was brought near to death, and indeed, but for your help, we had all perished? And do you remember further how last night, when we were resting in our tents, you, being full of wine, declared stoutly that your old knights would have borne themselves better than we of the younger sort had done? Now it shall be seen how these said old knights shall stand up against this heathen man, for indeed of the younger no one will go forth against him."
When the King heard this he smote Roland his nephew in the face with his gauntlet so sharply that the blood gushed out abundantly. Thereupon Roland drew his sword and would have smitten his uncle had he not been held by the bystanders. And the King cried, "Now, this is a most monstrous thing for any man, much more a kinsman. Seize him, for he shall die the death for this wickedness." But when the courtiers made as if to lay hands upon him Roland cried, "Now, if any man touch me I will cleave his head in two." Nor did any man dare to come near him. But Ogier the Dane said, "Now, Roland, you did ill to threaten your uncle, whom you are bound to honour above all men." "It is true," answered Roland. "I was greatly provoked; nevertheless I repent of my deed."
The King said to the Peers of France, "I am much troubled in this matter. First Roland my nephew, that should have been zealous to help me, threatens to slay me, and then there is no man that is willing to do battle with this pagan."
"Take courage, my lord King," said the Duke Naymes, "some one will be found to do you this service." But the King refused to be comforted.
Now Oliver lay sick in bed, for he had been sorely wounded in battle. But when he heard how the King and Roland had fallen out, and how Fierabras had defied the King and his army, and no man had gone forth to meet him, he straightway rose from his bed and began to stretch and try himself to see whether by any means he could bear his armour. In so doing he made his wounds bleed afresh. But when he had bound them again as best he could, he said to Garin his squire, "Come, bring me my arms, for I will go out and meet this pagan." Said Garin the squire, "Now, my lord Oliver, have pity on yourself. You will compass your own death." Oliver answered, "Do my bidding, for this is an occasion of honour that no man should miss." So Oliver put on his armour, Garin helping him. This done, he took his sword, Hautclere by name, which he loved above all things. Then they brought him Ferraunt his horse, ready saddled and bridled. And Oliver leapt lightly into the saddle without so much as touching it, and put his shield into place, and took a spear very long and sharply pointed. Then he struck his horse with his spurs, and Ferraunt leapt up under him. It was a noble sight to see, so gallant was the knight and so brave the steed.
Oliver rode up to the King's tent and saluted him, saying, "My lord, I have served you faithfully for these three years past without reward or wages. I pray you, therefore, that you give me this day the thing I shall desire of you." The King answered, "Most noble Earl, I will do this with a good will. There is not in this land of France a city or town or castle that I will not give you at your desire." But Oliver said, "My lord King, I ask neither towns nor castles, but only this—that you suffer me to do battle with this pagan."
When the other knights heard this they were not a little shamed that a wounded man should take up the challenge, while they themselves held back. "What is this," they said, "that Oliver, who was hurt well-nigh to death, would now go forth to battle!" As for the King, he said, "Now, Oliver, you have surely lost your wits. You know that you have been sorely wounded, and yet you will run into a worse danger. Go back to your bed and rest; assuredly I will not suffer you to do battle with this pagan."
Then Ganelon, who was afterwards the traitor, rose up in his place and said, "Sir, this is against the custom of France that you should deny Oliver his request." The King was very angry and said, "Ganelon, you are not well disposed in this matter. If this be as you say, then Oliver shall fight with this pagan, and if he fight, then he can hardly escape death. But mark you this: I swear by my faith that if he be slain or taken in this battle, then not all the gold in the world can save you from a shameful death; aye, and all your house shall perish with you."
"Sir King," said Ganelon, "may God and Our Lady keep me!" but to himself he said secretly, "Now God forbid that Oliver should come back safe. Rather may this pagan smite off his head!" But when King Charles saw that he could not hinder Oliver from doing battle with Fierabras, he said, "Now may God be with you, and help you, and bring you back with joy!" and he reached to him his glove, which Oliver took with much pleasantness and humility.
But Reyner, that was father to Oliver, when he saw his son ready to go forth, came to the King, and knelt down at his feet, and cried in sore trouble, "Now, my lord King, have pity on my son and me. He is young and presumptuous, full of pride and ambition, but so sorely wounded that he cannot fight; forbid him, therefore, to go forth." But the King said to Reyner, "What I have given I may not withdraw." Then Oliver stood up and spake with a loud voice, "Sir King and all you lords of France, if I have offended any man in word or deed, I pray him to forgive me." There was not a man but wept to hear these words. The King himself wept, and commended him to the keeping of God.
Oliver rode forth and came to the tree where Fierabras lay at ease and unarmed. The giant did not so much as look at him, but turned away his head, for he despised Oliver as being but little of stature in comparison with himself. Oliver said to him, "Awake, you have called me many times this day; lo! now I have come. And first tell me your name." Fierabras answered him, "I am Fierabras, of Alexandria. It was I that destroyed the city of Rome and slew the Pope, and carried away the holy things. And Jerusalem is mine, and the place where, as you say, your God is buried."
Oliver said, "If these things are true, it is time that you should suffer due punishment for your misdeeds. But enough of talking. Make ready and arm yourself, or else, by the God in whom I believe, I will smite you where you lie!" When Fierabras heard him speak so fiercely, he began to laugh, and said, "You are a bold talker, but first tell me who you are, and of what rank." Oliver answered, "Before night come, pagan, you shall know full well who I am. But now hear this: my lord the King has sent this message by my mouth: 'Renounce Mahomet your God, and all other idols, and believe in the true God that made heaven and earth and all that is therein. Meanwhile take your choice of two things: either depart out of this country, taking nothing with you, or stand forth and fight with me.'"
Fierabras said, "Fellow, you are not able to meet me, even were I without arms. But tell me now thy name and lineage." Oliver answered, "My name is Garin, and I am a poor knight; King Charles has sent me to do battle with you; make ready, therefore, for battle." But Fierabras would not consent. "Now tell me, Sir Garin," said he, "why Roland, or Oliver, or Ogier the Dane, who are all, men say, of high renown, have not come out against me." "They have not come," answered Oliver, "because they think too meanly of you."
This he said with such vehemence that his wounds opened again. When Fierabras saw the blood he said, "Are you perchance wounded, Sir Garin?" "Not I," answered Oliver; "this blood that you see comes from my horse where I spurred him." But Fierabras saw that the blood was not from the horse and said: "You speak no truth when you say that you are not hurt. This is no horse's blood but of your own body that I see. Now drink of this flagon of balm that I took from the city of Jerusalem. When you have drunken you shall be whole in body, and then you shall be fit to defend yourself in battle." But Oliver would have none of it. "This," said he, "is but folly."
Fierabras, seeing that he must needs fight, said to Oliver, "Come now, help me to arm myself." Said Oliver, "Can I trust you?" "Yea," answered Fierabras, "that can you: never have I been traitor to any man, nor ever will." So Oliver armed him; he helped him to don first a suit of leather of Arabia and after this a coat and habergeon of steel, and an helmet richly garnished with jewels for his head. Was ever such courtesy in this world, Oliver helping this pagan to arm, whom, being unarmed, he might full easily have slain, and the pagan having pity upon Oliver as not being his match in fighting and all the more when he saw that he had been wounded? Would that there were more of such courtesy between Christian men!
When he was armed, Fierabras took the three swords that he had, Pleasance and Baptism and Grabon, all being of so fine a temper that there was no armour made but they could break through it. The three were made by one of three brothers; another of these three made three more, of which Durendal, the sword of Roland, was the most famous; and yet another brother also made three, of which it suffices to name Hautclere that was the sword of Oliver, and Joyous that was one of the chief treasures of King Charles. On his shield he had the image of his god, Apollyon to wit, to whom when he had commended himself, he yet once again besought Oliver to depart. And when Oliver had again refused, saying that he trusted to prevail by the help of his God, Fierabras said to him, "Now as you are a Christian man, I adjure you by the font wherein you were baptized and by the cross to which your God was nailed, to tell me truly your name and lineage."
Oliver answered, "You could not have adjured me by greater things than this same font and cross; know therefore that I am Oliver, the son of Reyner, close comrade of Roland, and one of the Twelve Peers of France."
Then said Fierabras, "I knew that you were no poor and unknown knight, but a great warrior and a famous, so great was your courage. But you are wounded, and it would be dishonour to me should I overcome you by means of your weakness." But Oliver answered him fiercely, "Enough of these idle words; when we come to fight together you shall see that I am no dead man. Nevertheless as you are a courteous knight, I will require you once again to forsake Mahomet and your false gods, and submit yourself to be baptized. So shall you have Roland and King Charles for your friends." "Nay," said Fierabras, "but this is folly. Let us address ourselves to battle without more delay."
Then did these two champions lay their spears in rest and make ready to charge. When the men of France saw this they were in great fear lest some mischance should befall Oliver; as for the King, he hid his face in his mantle and kneeling before the crucifix embraced it, weeping the while, and crying, "O Lord, I beseech Thee keep Oliver and suffer not the Christian faith to be dishonoured by his downfall." Meanwhile the two warriors met in the shock of battle, and that so fiercely that the sparks flew from their spearheads when they smote on the shields, and that the shafts of both were broken. The reins dropped from their hands, and they were both so astonied that they scarce knew where they were. But then coming to themselves they drew each man his sword. And first Oliver with Hautclere smote Fierabras so fiercely on the helmet that he shore off a great portion of it, and the jewels wherewith it was garnished fell to the ground. Nor was the force of the blow yet spent: it reached the giant's shoulder, but the cuirass which was of stout leather of Cappadocia, stayed it; nevertheless the giant's feet were thrust out of the stirrups, and he came very near to being overthrown. And all the men of France cried with one voice, "Blessed Mary, what a mighty stroke has Oliver dealt to this pagan!" "'Tis true," said Roland, "would I were with him this day!" Then Fierabras, in his turn, smote Oliver with his sword Pleasance on the helmet. From the helmet it glanced down and grievously wounded the Christian's horse. Then Oliver was not a little dismayed, and commended himself to God and the Virgin. Which, when Fierabras heard, he said, "I am ill content to have so hurt you. Hardly shall you see the sun set this day, for already you grow faint. But this has befallen you because you are already wounded. Be wise therefore and leave the battle while there is yet time." But Oliver would have none of such counsel. Therefore they fell to fighting again, and this so fiercely that the armour of the two of them was well-nigh broken to pieces.
When the King saw this, and perceived that Oliver was in no little danger, he was greatly troubled. He prayed aloud, saying, "O Lord God, now keep the valiant Oliver, that he be not slain or taken. Verily, if aught happen to him, I swear by my father's soul that I will burn every monastery and church and altar in the land." But the Duke Naymes rebuked the King, saying, "Speak not thus, Sir King. Rather pray to God that of His goodness He will help Oliver." And the King said, "You are right; I spake foolishly."
Meanwhile the two champions continued to fight fiercely, more fiercely than befitted prudent or experienced warriors. Oliver especially was so carried out of himself that his hand grew numb with the frequency of his blows, and at last his sword flew out of his hand. Straightway he ran to regain it, putting his shield over his head to cover himself from the enemy's blows. But this did not avail him, for Fierabras smote twice on the shield, and so mightily that he brake it into pieces, and the breastplate under it also. And Oliver durst not go forward to take up his sword, for he feared greatly what the giant might do to him. When the men of France saw in what straits he was, they made as if they would arm themselves and go to his help. But this King Charles would not suffer. "Not so," said he; "God can save him and maintain him in the right, and He will do so."
Then the others abode in their place. But now Fierabras began to jeer and scoff at Oliver, "Now I know that you are vanquished, for you dare not put out your hand to take your sword for fear of me; no, you would not stoop to the ground to gain the wealth of the whole world. Now hearken to me: if you will deny your faith and declare that your God is no god, and believe in Mahomet, then I will give you my sister Floripas in marriage, than whom there is no fairer maid upon earth, and we two will conquer France or ever this year shall have passed, and I will make you King of one-half of this realm." Oliver answered, "Now God forbid that I should listen to such folly. These your gods are no gods at all, and have no goodness or strength." Fierabras said, "I see that you are firmly set in your mind not to do these things. Now there was never man on earth who has given me such trouble of mind as have you. But now take up your sword; for without it you can have no more strength in battle than a woman." "That will I not do," answered Oliver. "I will not take my sword by your courtesy. My life and death are with God; and I will win my sword by fair fight or not at all."
Thereupon Fierabras came against Oliver, having his sword Pleasance in his hand. Then was Oliver in a great strait, for he had no sword, and his shield was cleft in twain, and his armour grievously broken. But God had mercy upon him, and put it in his head to look about him. And looking he saw the horse of Fierabras, and on the saddle two swords, Baptism and Grabon. Whereupon he made haste and laid hold on the sword Baptism. And when he had possessed himself of it, he said, "King of Alexandria, now the time of reckoning has come. See, I have one of your swords; you must take good care lest it be your destruction." When Fierabras saw what Oliver had done, he changed colour and said, "O Baptism, my good sword, what is this? Never did better weapon hang by my side or by the side of any man living upon earth." Then he said to Oliver, "You are, I well know, an honourable knight. Come, now, take your own sword and give to me that which is mine." "Not so," answered Oliver; "I will make no agreement with you, save this: that I will do my best to slay you, and you shall do the same with me."
And when he had said this, Oliver ran at Fierabras as fiercely as a lion that leaps upon its prey. Nor was Fierabras slow to meet him. Indeed, he smote him so stoutly that he brake through his helmet, wounding the knight's head. Seeing this he cried, "Now you are wounded, Sir Oliver. Never more shall you see King Charles or Roland; so shall I at last have my desire." But Oliver answered, "Be not so proud nor boast overmuch. I have a good confidence that I shall either slay you or conquer you." Then he made a feint to strike the pagan on the head; and Fierabras, raising his shield over high to cover himself from the blow, left his side unguarded, which Oliver, quickly perceiving, drove his sword with all his might into the pagan's side. And the man fell with the blow, so mighty was it, for Oliver dealt it with all his strength that so he might put an end to the fight.
Fierabras, knowing himself to be vanquished, cried to Oliver, "I crave your mercy, noble knight, and I pray that I may be baptized; for how can I refuse to believe in the God by whose help you have now overcome me? Therefore I surrender myself to you, and beg for your protection." When Oliver heard him speak and saw in what a strait he was, he had great compassion on him, and laid him under a tree, and so bound up his wounds that he staunched the bleeding. When he had done this, Fierabras said, "Now, noble sir, carry me away from this place, for of my own strength I cannot go." Oliver answered. "Nay, but you are of so great a weight that I may not take you." Then said the giant again, "Take me to the King, for verily I am very near my end. And if you cannot bear me, then take my horse and mount thereon, and lay me across the saddle, and put my sword by thy side. And mark this: there lie in wait in that wood yonder 40,000 men—soldiers of mine, whom I set there this very day, bidding them there abide till I should return from the battle." Oliver was ill-content with these words; nevertheless he took the giant and laid him across the saddle of his horse, and went his way. Then there charged from the wood a great host of pagans, among whom was a certain Brullant, and another, Sortybrant by name.
When Oliver saw these he struck his spurs into his horse, but the beast was so heavily burdened that he could not go so fast as the enemy pursued. When the men of France saw this, they made all haste to go to the help of Oliver, Roland first of all, and Richard of Normandy, and Guy of Burgundy, and Duke Thierry, and as was meet, Oliver's own father, Duke Reyner. Meanwhile Brullant, having outstripped his companions, came near, for he rode a horse that was as swift as a greyhound. Then Oliver said to Fierabras, "Now, Sir King, I must needs put you down, and this I do with much discontent. But you see that I am in a great strait, for if these men overtake me then shall I of a certainty be slain, and King Charles will never see me more." Fierabras answered, "Noble Oliver, will you now leave me? Surely I shall be in very evil case if you so desert me." Oliver said, "Nay, but I will not leave you, and will fight for you with all my strength to the very end." So saying he put upon himself the pagan's breastplate, which was in better case than his own, and took his sword Hautclere in his hand, and turned himself to meet the enemy. Thereupon came Brullant the Saracen riding fiercely at him, and struck him in the breast with his spear, so that the shaft brake; but Oliver was wounded. When Fierabras saw this he said, "Sir Oliver, you have done enough for me; now take thought for yourself. But lay me first somewhere out of the way, if it may be." So Oliver laid him under a tree out of the way. And when he had done this he saw a great multitude of Saracens about him on every side. Seeing, therefore, that there was no way for him to escape, he prayed to God that it might be granted to him not to die at that time, but rather to live till he should come to his end in company with Roland his comrade. After this he drew Hautclere his sword, and smote the first man that he encountered—he was the son of the greatest lord that was in the army of the Saracens—and cleft his body to the breast, so that he fell down dead. Whereupon Oliver took his shield, for his own had been broken to pieces. This done he charged the enemy; one of the leaders he slew at the first stroke, and not a few afterwards. He bore himself right bravely, but it was not in mortal man to prevail against such a host. First his horse was slain under him, and though he rose again from the earth and stood upon his feet, and dealt many mighty blows, slaying many, yet he was overcome by the strength and number of the Saracens. His shield was broken in thirty places, and his breastplate pierced through with darts, and his body wounded many times. At the last, being overcome by weariness and great bleeding, he fell to the ground. Then the Saracens took hold of him as he lay, and bound him with cords, and blindfolded his eyes, and setting him on a horse, so carried him away. All this time he did not cease to cry out for help, calling by name on King Charles and on Roland, who was his comrade. Nor did these turn a deaf ear to his cries, but came with all haste to help him, if it might be. And among them was Roland, and Ogier the Dane, and Guy of Burgundy, yes, and King Charles himself. There was not one of them but slew a Saracen, but Oliver they could not rescue, because they that had him in charge fled with all speed, so that the men of France could not by any means come up with them. Nor was this all the trouble, for many of the Christians were slain, and others were taken prisoners, as Gerard of Montdidier and Geoffrey Langevin. These the Saracens bound to horses and carried away with all haste. When Charlemagne saw this he was so angry that he well-nigh lost his wits. "Help! help!" he cried to the men of France. "Will you not save your comrades? It will be an ill day for France if these men are carried away into captivity." Nor were Roland and his comrades slow to do the King's bidding, for they spurred their horses, and pursued after the enemy, seeking if by any means they might deliver the prisoners. And ever Roland was in front, having his good sword Durendal in his hand. Many blows did he deal with it, and few were they that were smitten and yet lived. For the space of five miles they followed after the Saracens, and still as they followed they slew, but nevertheless they could not come up with Oliver and the rest of the prisoners, so quickly did they who had them in charge carry them away. As for Roland, though he swore that he would not turn back before he had delivered his comrades from captivity, yet he was constrained to depart from his purpose, for now the night began to fall, and no man knew by which way he should go. So the King, seeing that there was much danger lest the Saracens should lay an ambush for his army, bade them halt and turn back to the camp. And this they did very unwillingly.
As King Charles rode back, he found Fierabras lying under a tree much spent with the bleeding of his wounds. When he saw him, he said, "I have good cause to hate you, pagan that you are, for you are the cause whereby many of my men have been slain and taken prisoners, among them Oliver, than whom there is no one in the whole world dearer to me."
When Fierabras heard these words, he sighed and said, "Most noble King, I pray you of your mercy to pardon me and cause to be made a Christian man, so that, if I should be healed of my wounds, I may do all that is in me to advance the Christian faith, and to deliver the Holy Sepulchre. And now I beseech you to order that I may be baptized without delay."
When the King heard him speak in this fashion he felt a great compassion for him, and bade his knights carry him to a convenient lodging. And when the men of France saw of how great stature and beauty he was, they marvelled much, for indeed, when he was without his armour, there was no fairer man to be seen in all the world. Then they sent in all haste for Turpin the Archbishop, who when he was come baptized him in the name of Florin. Nevertheless he was still called Fierabras to the day of his death. Then the King sent his physicians and sages to search out his wounds, who having examined him, when they found that he had not been hurt in any mortal part, affirmed, that he would be whole again in the space of two months.
The Saracens that had charge of Oliver and the other knights did not halt till they came to a rich city, Aygremore by name. Being arrived there they made a great braying of trumpets at the gate. Balan, who was father to Fierabras, hearing this came to the gate, and seeing there Brullant, said to him, "Tell me, Brullant, my friend, how you have fared. Have you taken King Charles, and put his Peers to flight?" Brullant answered, "I have no such tidings for you, Sir Admiral. We have been discomfited by King Charles, and Fierabras your son was overcome in single fight by one of the King's Barons, and has been made a Christian man."
When the Admiral heard this, he was greatly troubled, and fell into a swoon. Being recovered from this, he made a great complaint of his ill-fortune, and lamented over his son, as one who never having been vanquished before had now suffered defeat. And at last, so great was his rage, he cried, "Now if this be true, and Fierabras my son is lost to me, verily I will strike out the brains of this false god Mahomet, who having promised me so much has fulfilled so little." And he threw himself in an agony upon the ground.
After a while, his anger having now somewhat cooled, he said to Brullant, "Tell me now, was Fierabras my son vanquished by one of these knights whom I now see before me? If it be so, show the man to me." So Brullant showed to him Oliver, and Balan was fain to admire him, so tall he was and strong and fair. Nevertheless he cried, "Bring him hither to me, and I will cut him to pieces." When the others understood that it was his purpose to put Oliver to death, they were greatly troubled. But Oliver comforted them saying, "We are not in such ill case as you think. But mark this one thing that I counsel you. Tell not your true names to the Admiral. If he once knows that we are Peers of France, he will have no pity upon us, and we shall die." But the Saracens knew not what he said. After this Balan commanded that the prisoners should be brought before him, having been first bound with cords and blindfolded. This being done, he said to Oliver, "Tell me now your name and country, and mind that you say nothing that is false."
Oliver answered, "I am a poor knight, Eugenes by name, born in Lorraine, my father being a yeoman, and these my comrades whom you see are poor knights also, and we have taken service with the King, hoping thus to get advancement and reward." Balan was very wroth to hear this. "I thought," he cried, "that I had five of the best and bravest knights in France, and that having these I possessed, as it were, the keys of France." And he said to his chamberlain, "Strip these men of their raiment and bind them to that pillar yonder, and bring me darts well pointed with iron that I may shoot at them for my sport." But Brullant stood up and said, "Sir Admiral, I beseech you to hear me; it is now eventide, and too late to do justice in proper form; your lords and councillors also are not here; delay therefore this matter to the morrow, when the thing shall be known and your judgment better approved, for that these men rightly deserve such punishment I do heartily believe. Consider also that King Charles may be willing to give up Fierabras in exchange for these knights. Wherefore you would do well to keep them without harm."
"This is good counsel," said the Admiral. "Send for Brutamont, and let him take these men in charge." Now Brutamont was keeper of the King's prison.
Then Brutamont thrust these French knights into the prison, which was a dungeon so deep that no light could enter it. A horrible place it was, in which were nourished serpents and toads and all manner of venomous beasts, and there was a most evil stench in it. Also the water of the sea flowed in when the tide was high, and at this time it was so deep in the dungeon that it came up even to the shoulders of the prisoners. As for Oliver the salt water made his wounds, which were many and grievous, to smart beyond all bearing. He was therefore in evil case, and most certainly had died but for Gerard of Montdidier, who kept him up so that he should not drown. And indeed they were all in great peril of drowning, and doubtless had so perished, but that there were in the dungeon two pillars, fifteen feet or thereabouts in height, upon which they climbed, lifting up Oliver also, for of his own strength he could not have done it. Loudly did he lament, crying out that his father Reyner should never more see him alive. But Gerard comforted him, saying, "It is not for a brave knight to complain. Let us rather trust in God. Nevertheless I wish that we had each of us a good sword in his hand. I vow to God that we would slay not a few score of Saracens before they should put us again into this dungeon."
Now the Admiral had a daughter, Floripas by name, a very fair damsel, and not yet married. She was of a reasonable stature, and as bright as a rose in May. Her hair was like shining gold, and her eyes bright as the eyes of a falcon, and the eyebrows above them fine and straight, her nose shapely, her cheeks well rounded, fair as a fleur-de-lys, but with delicate colour of rose; her mouth small and delicate with a chin suitably fashioned, and her shoulders straight and her bosom of a most dainty curve. She was clad in a robe of purple broidered with gold, of noble aspect, and of such a virtue that no one wearing it could be harmed by any poison. Such was Floripas to behold. So fair was she, that if a man had fasted for three days or four and should then look upon her, he should be as well satisfied as with abundance of meat and drink.
The maiden hearing the complaints of the French knights felt a great pity for them. So she went from her chamber to the hall, and twelve maidens that waited upon her followed. And when she came to the hall she found a great lamenting, and asking the cause she heard that her brother Fierabras had been vanquished in battle and taken prisoner. Thereupon she cried aloud, and wept bitterly, and all that were in the hall wept with her.
After that the maiden's grief was somewhat spent, she sent for Brutamont the jailer, and demanded of him who were these men that he had in the dungeon. "Madam," said he, "they are French knights, servants of King Charles, and they have wrought great harm to our people, and done dishonour to our gods. This also they have added to their crimes, that they have helped to slay Fierabras your brother. One of them there is who is as seemly a man as ever I beheld; 'twas he, I am told, that prevailed over your brother." Then said Floripas, "Open now the dungeon, for I would fain know how they fare." But Brutamont answered, "Not so, madam; the place is foul and loathsome, and so dark that you could not see the men. Also your father has strictly charged me that I should suffer no one to come near to the prison, and least of all a woman, seeing that many are deceived and shamed by women."
Floripas was very wroth to hear such words, "Thou evil beast!" said she; "dost use such speech to me?" And she called her chamberlain and bade him fetch her a staff. Which when he had brought, she smote Brutamont the jailer so mighty a blow upon the head that he fell to the ground a dead man.
Then Floripas bade them light a torch and open the door of the prison. And when she saw the prisoners how they had climbed upon the pillars, as has been told, she said, "Tell me now, my lords, who you are and how you are named." Oliver answered, "Fair lady, we are men of France, and knights of King Charles, and having been brought hither have been put by the Admiral into this horrible dungeon. Better had we been slain in battle than that we should rot in this place!" Floripas, who for all that she was not a Christian woman, was of great courtesy and compassion, said to them, "Now I promise that I will take you out of this prison, only you must engage to do what I demand of you." And Oliver said, "That will we do, madam, right gladly. We are true men and faithful, nor have we ever been aught else, nor will be. Give us arms in our hands, and set us where we may fight with these Saracens. Verily they shall be ill content with us."
"Now," answered Floripas, "methinks you boast overmuch. Here are you in prison, and you boast yourself against them that are at liberty. 'Tis better for a man to be quiet than to talk so foolishly." Then spake Gerard, "Lady, he that is so kept in prison will oft use light words that he may forget his pain." Then Floripas said to Gerard, "You excuse your fellow right courteously. I trow that you have a flattering tongue wherewith to win a maiden's heart." "You speak truly, lady," cried William the Scot; "you shall not find his peer for three hundred miles and more."
After this Floripas sent her chamberlain to fetch a rope, which she let down into the dungeon. When the prisoners saw it they put it first round Oliver, and Floripas and her chamberlain drew him up out of the water with no little labour. After him the others were drawn up more easily. Having so rescued them, she took them by a secret way into her own lodging, which was a very fair and spacious abode, marvellously adorned with all manner of paintings, as of the sun and the moon and all the host of heaven, with woods and mountains and living creatures of all kinds, made, as some will have it, by the son of Methuselah. This dwelling stood on a black rock, altogether surrounded by the sea, and near to it was a garden of which the flowers and fruits never failed. There were precious herbs also which availed to cure all manner of sickness and maladies, save only the malady of death.
Now Floripas had a governess, by name Maragonde. Maragonde said to the maiden, "Madam, I know these Frenchmen well. That is Oliver, son of Reyner, the same that has vanquished Fierabras your brother; that yonder is Gerard of Montdidier, and this William the Scot. Now may Mahomet send his curse upon me if I do not straightway tell your father, the lord Admiral." When Floripas heard these words she changed colour, being moved to much anger, which nevertheless she hid. Then she called the woman to come to her where she stood by a window; when she was come she struck her to the ground with a great blow, and calling her servant, bade him throw her into the sea, for she much feared her father and his malice. "Go now, spiteful wretch," said Floripas when she saw Maragonde sink in the water, "You have your reward."
This done, she greeted the Frenchmen right courteously, and when she saw how Sir Oliver was covered with blood, she gave him a draught of a certain herb that is named Mandegloire, which when he had drunk he was immediately made whole. Then the knights were refreshed with baths and were furnished with goodly apparel, and had entertainment of meat and drink. And when they were satisfied, she said to them, "My lords, I know full well who you are, that this, for instance, is Sir Oliver who vanquished Fierabras my brother; yet I have showed you this great kindness, nor this without danger to myself. Now there is a certain knight in France whom I have long loved, Guy of Burgundy by name, he is the goodliest man that ever I saw, and is of the kindred of Charlemagne and of Roland. I saw him at Rome when my father the Admiral took that city, and then and there gave him my heart, when he had struck down to the earth a certain Lucifer that was chief of the pagan warriors. For the sake of this Guy I will become a Christian, and if I may not have him to my husband, I will never marry. Now therefore I beg that you will help me in this matter." Then said Gerard of Montdidier, "Madam, give us arms, and we will put the Saracens to flight." But Floripas was prudent and said, "Rest awhile, my friends, for it will need much counsel before it can be seen what you had best do."
Duke Reyner could neither eat nor drink for the grief that he had about his son; and when he could no longer endure this trouble, he came to King Charles and made his complaint. "Oh, sir," he said, "I am like to die of grief for my dear son Oliver. If I have no tidings of him then I must needs perish, or go myself to seek him." The King when he heard these words was full of pity, and sent for Roland, and said to him, "Fair nephew, you must go on the morrow to Aygremore, and get speech of Balan, and say to him, and that full plainly, that he must straightway deliver up the holy things that he has, and also set free those my knights that he has in keeping. And if he refuse to do these things, then tell him that I will most surely hang him as a thief." To this Roland answered, "Fair king and uncle, send me on no such errand, for if you do, you will never see me more." Then spake the Duke Naymes, "Take heed, Sire, what you do. You know what a valiant man is your nephew Roland. If you send him, he will return no more." Said King Charles, "Then you shall go with him, bearing the letters that I shall send to the Admiral." And then others of the Peers, as Duke Thierry and Ogier the Dane, stood up in their place, and said the same thing, then the King swore a great oath, even by the eyes in his head, that they also should go. So he did to six of the Peers. Last of all he spied Guy of Burgundy and said to him, "You are my cousin and nearest to me in blood, you shall be the seventh with these six to take my message to Balan the Admiral. You shall say to him that I purpose to baptize him, that he holds of me his whole kingdom, and that he must deliver up to me the holy things." Said Guy of Burgundy, "My lord, I pray you send me not on this errand, for if you will send me I am assured that you will never see me again." But the King took no heed. On the morrow the seven came and stood before him and said, "We crave your leave to depart; if we have done wrong to any in this company we pray his pardon, and if any have wronged us, him we pardon." At these words all that were there began to weep for pity. The King said, "Well beloved, I commend you to God; may He have you in His keeping!" Then they went their way.
Meanwhile in Aygremore the Admiral was in great trouble and doubt. He sent, therefore, for fifteen Kings of the Saracens, that they might advise him. When they were come the fiercest of them, Maradas by name, said, "Sir Admiral, why have you sent for us?" Balan answered, "I will tell you truly: Charlemagne is on his way hither. He says that I hold my kingdom of him. Now he were better advised to sit still and rest his old body, and pray in his churches, and eat such food as he has. Go you, therefore, and demand of him my son Fierabras, and bid him do homage for his kingdom, or I will come with one hundred thousand men, and constrain him." Maradas liked not the matter, but said that he would go. So did the others also; so they armed themselves and departed.
So these two companies both went their way, and in no long while approached one to the other. And first Duke Naymes espied the Saracens, and said, "See now these Saracens are coming against us with a great force; advise what we shall do." Roland said: "Be in no haste, my lords. There be but twenty of them, or, at the most thirty; let us ride straight against them," and this advice seemed good to them all.
After this Maradas rode out from the company of the Saracens, and said, "It is an ill fortune for you, being Christian men, that you have met with us." "That is foolishly said," answered Duke Naymes. "We come from King Charles bearing a message to Balan your master." Maradas said again: "For all that you are in danger. Will any one joust with me?" "That will I," said Duke Naymes. "You are overbold," answered Maradas. "I would willingly fight with ten such as you. Hear you now, all of you; let no one move from his place; I will overcome you all, and give you to my lord the Admiral."
Roland, when he heard these words, was well-nigh beside himself with anger, and cried, "Before the sun set, thou shalt see what we can do." Then he charged at Maradas in great fury, and Maradas charged also. Each brake the corselet of the other with his spear's point; but Roland dealt Maradas such a blow that he brake his helmet from off his head, and then, quickly recovering himself, smote him on his bare skull and cleft it to the brain, so that he fell down dead. Then the other knights fell upon the rest of the Saracens and slew them, one only escaping, who did not draw rein till he came to the Admiral. Said the Admiral, "You have come back with good speed. What have you done?" And the King that had escaped answered, "It has gone very ill with us; we encountered seven Knights of France, who said they were King Charles's men. They ran upon us, and had such mastery over us that I only escaped to tell the tale." When the Admiral heard, he well-nigh died of grief and rage.
After the battle with the Saracens Roland and his fellows rested awhile in a meadow that was nigh at hand. And the Duke Naymes said, "It were well that we should return to King Charles and tell him how we have fared. I take it he will be well pleased." But Roland said, "Do you talk of returning, Sir Duke? So long as I have my good sword Durendal in my hand I will not return. We will do our message to the Admiral as the King commanded. Come now, let us take each one a head of a pagan in his hand and present them to the Admiral." "You are out of your wits, Sir Roland," said the Duke Naymes; "if we do so, we shall surely be all slain." But the others were of Roland's opinion; therefore each man took a head of a pagan in his hand, and they went their way.
So they journeyed till they came to the Bridge Mantryble. When the Duke Naymes saw the bridge, he said, "This is Mantryble, and on the other side of the bridge lies the town of Aygremore, where we shall find the Admiral." Then said Ogier the Dane, "We must first pass the bridge, and it is a very dangerous place. There are in it thirty arches, and on it are great towers, and the walls are so wide that ten knights can ride abreast upon them. And in the midst of it is a great drawbridge, which is let down and pulled up with ten chains of iron. And under the bridge there is a river, which they call Flagot. This river flows as fast as a bolt flies out of a crossbow; so fierce is the current that no boat or galley can by any means cross over it. And the Keeper of the bridge is a giant, Gallafer by name, a very terrible monster to behold. He is armed with an axe of steel with which to smite down any one that may presume to pass over the bridge against his will."
Then said Roland, "Do not trouble yourselves, my lords. As long as it shall please God to keep me, and I have Durendal in my hand, I care not one penny for any pagan, be he giant or other. This porter I will slay, if he seek to hinder me." But Duke Naymes said to Sir Roland, "This is foolish talk; it is not wise to give one blow and to receive a score. Leave the matter to me, and I will deal so with the porter, that he will let us pass over the bridge without any trouble."
So when they came to the bridge, the Duke Naymes rode before them. He was an old man, and his hair was white, so that it became him to ride first. The porter said to him, "Whither do you go with this company, and what is your errand?" The Duke answered, "We are messengers from King Charles, and we go to Aygremore with a message to Balan the Admiral. He has not driven all evil men out of his country, for on our way we met some fifteen villains who would have taken from us our horses and our lives. But we took such order with them that they will not trouble us any more. See, here are their heads."
When the porter heard these words he was well-nigh out of his wits with anger. He said to the Duke Naymes, "Hear me; you must pay your toll for the passing of this bridge." The Duke answered, "What is the toll. We will content you." "It is no little, this toll," said the porter. "You must pay thirty couple of hounds, and a hundred damsels, and a hundred falcons in their cages, and a hundred horses, and for each foot of each horse a piece of gold. Also you must give me four pack-horses laden with gold and silver." The Duke said, "All this and more you will find in our baggage, which comes after us. You shall have your toll by noon. Of a truth there are many more things than you say, as hauberks, and helmets, and good shields. You shall take of them as much as you will." This Gallafer the Porter believed, so boldly did the Duke speak, and he let them pass by the drawbridge. Then Roland laughed out, and said, "Sir Duke, you have indeed kept your word;" and when they had gone a little further Roland espied a Turk that was coming across the bridge, and without ado he lighted down from his beast, took the Turk by the middle, and threw him over the wall of the bridge into the river. When the Duke Naymes, looking behind him, saw what he had done, he said, "Surely the devil is in this Roland; he has no patience in him. If God does not keep us he will bring us all to our death." And indeed Roland was of so high a courage that he took no count of time or place; wherever he found his enemy he would forthwith avenge himself on him.
In due course the French knights came to the town of Aygremore, and having entered by the gate, came, a Saracen guiding them, to where the Admiral sat in the shade of a tree. The Duke Naymes said to his companions, "I am the bearer of the King's letter, and I therefore will speak first." At this Roland was ill content, desiring greatly to have this office for himself. But the Duke would not suffer it; "Nay," said he, "speak not one word; you cannot keep yourself in bounds; if you have your way you will bring us all to death before sunset."
So the Duke spake first, beginning in this fashion, "Now may God Almighty save and defend our mighty Lord King Charles, and confound Balan the Admiral and his subjects. For these have borne themselves to us most dishonourably, seeking to take from us our horses and other possessions." When the Admiral heard these words, he had much ado to keep under his anger. Before he could make answer to the Duke there came the one King who had escaped from the Frenchmen, and told him saying, "These are the same eight villains that slew the Kings; avenge yourself on them." Balan said, "Let them be for the present," and turning to Duke Naymes, he said, "Finish now your message." The Duke answered that he would gladly do this, and so proceeded: "The great and noble King of France bids you render to him the crown of thorns with which our Lord Christ was crowned and the other Holy Things. Also he commands you to set free certain knights of his whom you hold in prison; which things if you fail to do forthwith he will cause you to be hanged by the neck till you die." Balan said, "You have reviled me with violent words; but I have heard you courteously. Go now, and sit down by yonder pillar, and let these others speak, whom I have not yet heard."
Then came Richard of Normandy, and spake the same words. When the Admiral saw him, he said, "You are like to Richard of Normandy, the same that slew my uncle Corsuble. Go and sit you down till I have heard your fellows." After Richard came the others, saying the same words, and other words like to them. But none spake more fiercely and proudly than Roland, who, after that he had bidden the Admiral render the Holy Things and the knights his prisoners, added, "And see that you give up these same prisoners in good case; otherwise King Charles will have you hanged by the neck as a thief."
Balan cried in a rage, "These are proud words. Now I swear by Mahomet and Termagant that I will not eat till you are hanged." But Roland answered, "Then methinks you will keep an overlong fast. Say what you will; I count you to be of no more worth than a dead dog."
Last of all came Guy of Burgundy, who, after he had delivered the message said, "I counsel you, Sir Admiral, to submit yourself to my lord the King. Take off your coat, and your hose and your shoes, and go in your shirt only, carrying on your back the saddle of a horse, and rest not till you come to the presence of King Charles, when you shall confess your misdoings, and pray for mercy. Which things if you do not, you will assuredly be hanged or burnt with fire."
When he had heard all these words the Admiral was not a little wroth. He called, therefore, Brullant and Sortibrant, and others of his counsellors, and said to them, "What shall we do with these men?" Sortibrant answered, "Let them be cut in pieces. And when you have slain them, gather together all your armies, and go to Mormyond, where King Charles is at this present, and take him, and put him to death." When the Admiral heard this counsel he agreed to it, and commanded that preparations should be made for the slaying of the French knights.
But the Princess Floripas was aware of all that had been done. Therefore, coming into the hall, she saluted her father, and said to him, "Who are these knights that are set yonder by themselves?" The Admiral answered, "They are knights of France who have reproached me with very evil words. What shall I do with them?" Floripas said, "I advise you to smite off their heads with as little delay as may be, for they have well deserved it. Afterwards burn their bodies outside the city."
The Admiral said, "This is good counsel; it shall be done forthwith. Go now to the prison, and bring thence the other knights that are there. So shall they all suffer death together." "Good father," answered Floripas, "it is now time for dinner. You cannot commodiously do this justice till you have dined." But her purpose was to persuade her father with fair words so that he might bring all the Frenchmen together. She said therefore, "Father, give these knights into my keeping. They shall be well guarded. And after dinner you shall do justice upon them in the presence of your people." To this the Admiral consented. But Sortibrant, who knew that women are changeable and inconstant, said to him, "It is not a wise thing to put such trust in a woman. You will know by many examples how men are deceived by them." Floripas was greatly angered at these words of Sortibrant, and said to him, "You are a traitor, perjured and disloyal. I would give you such a buffet on your face that the blood would run down amain, were it a seemly thing for a maid to do."
Their debate being ended, Floripas took the French knights to her lodgings. As they went, the Duke Naymes said, "Who ever saw so fair a woman as this? Of a truth the man who should do battle for love of her would be well inspired." But Roland was angry, and said, "What devil prompts you to speak of love; this is not the time for such talk." And the Duke answered, "Sir Roland, I too was once a lover." But Floripas, saying they did ill to dispute among themselves, took them into her lodgings, and shut to the door. Then Roland and Oliver embraced with much joy. The other knights also were right glad to come together again. And, indeed, it was a marvellous thing; but what will not a woman's wit effect in the attaining of that which she greatly desires? For it has been told that Floripas had great love for Guy of Burgundy, and was willing to be baptized if only she might have him to her husband.
When the knights had finished their greetings, Floripas said to them, "My lords, will you promise me on your honour that you will help me to attain that which I desire?" The Duke Naymes answered, "That, madam, will we do right willingly. And you may trust that we will keep faith with you." Then Floripas asked the Duke by what name he was known. And when he had told her she asked the names of the others. And when she came to Roland and had heard that he was Roland, son of the Duke of Milan and nephew to King Charles himself, she kneeled down at his feet. And when he had raised her up right courteously, she said to him, "I love a certain knight of France, Guy of Burgundy by name, and I would have tidings of him." "Madam," answered Roland, "he is here in this very place; there is not more than four feet of space between him and you."
Then Roland said to Guy of Burgundy, "Come hither, Sir Guy, to this maiden and receive her right gladly, as is fit." But Guy answered, "God forbid that I should take a wife except she were given me by King Charles himself." When Floripas heard him she changed colour, being very angry, and said, "If this be so, then I swear by Mahomet that all these knights shall be hanged on a gibbet." Then said Roland to Guy, "I pray you do this damsel the pleasure that she would have." So Guy consented to her will. And Floripas said that now she had the thing she most desired, and kissed him, not on the mouth, for that she durst not, being yet a pagan, but upon the cheek and chin. After this she opened a great chest that she had in her chamber, and spread a fair cloth of silk, and on this she laid the crown of thorns and the nails with which the Lord's feet were pierced. "This," she said, "is the great treasure which ye have so much desired to see." Then the knights went up and kissed the Holy Relics reverently, not without tears. After this the things were put up again into the chest where they had been before.
As the Admiral sat at dinner there came into the hall the chieftain who was named Lucifer, and was a special friend to the Admiral. He said, "Is it true, as I have heard, that Fierabras, your son, who was the very best knight in the whole world, has been overcome and taken prisoner?" "It is true," answered the Admiral, "I will not hide the thing from you. A French knight, whom may Mahomet confound, overcame him. But we have taken five of King Charles's knights; seven other knights came hither bearing a very insolent message to me from the King, all these therefore are in prison. I gave them into the hands of Floripas my daughter, and she has shut them up in prison."
"Sir," said Lucifer, "this was not well done of you, to trust these prisoners to a woman, for women are apt to change, and to turn from one thing to another. If it please you I will go and see in what condition they are."
Then said the Admiral, "That is well counselled; go and see, and when you return make my daughter to return with you."
So Lucifer went, and when he came to the chamber where Floripas was he did not seek to have the door opened to him, but smote it so stoutly with his foot that he brake down the bolts and bars.
When Floripas saw this she was very wroth, and said to Roland, "This violence is ill-pleasing to me, Sir Roland, all the more because this man that has done it should have been my husband, though I loved him not. I pray you avenge me of this wrong."
"Be content, fair lady," answered Roland, "this fellow shall be made to know of his misdoing ere he depart hence. Never did he pay so much for the making of a lock as he shall pay for the breaking of it." Meanwhile Lucifer entered the chamber, and coming up to the Duke of Naymes, who was bareheaded, took him by the beard, and drew him to himself so roughly that he had well-nigh thrown him to the ground. "Whence come you, old man?" said he, "Tell me the truth." The Duke told him, "I am Duke of Naymes, and I am a councillor of King Charles, from whom I have come, with these lords whom you see, bringing a message to the Admiral. And because what we said was not to his liking, he has made us prisoners. But now take your hand from my beard, you have held me long enough. And be sure that I say not all that I think." The pagan answered him, "May be the Admiral will forgive you your folly. But come, tell me truly of your countrymen, how do they bear themselves, and what games do they play?" The Duke answered, "When the King has dined every man may go where he will. Some ride on horses, and some go into the fields, and some play at chess or tables. In the morning every man hears Mass when it is said; they are wont also to give alms to such as are in need. And in battle they are not easily to be overcome."
BLOWING THE GREAT COAL.
BLOWING THE GREAT COAL.
Lucifer said, "Old man, you dote; these things are naught; say, can your folk blow at the great coal?" "I never heard of the great coal," said the Duke. Then said Lucifer, "I will teach you the manner of it," and he came near to a great fire that was in the chamber, Roland making a sign meanwhile to the Duke that he should bear with the man's way. Then Lucifer took the biggest brand that was on the fire, and blew it so strongly that the sparks flew about abundantly. "And now," said he to the Duke, "You must blow also." Thereupon the Duke took the coal, and blew it so strongly that the flame came near to the pagan's face, and burnt his beard. Lucifer was almost out of his wits for anger, but before he could as much as speak the Duke smote him with the brand upon the neck so strongly that the bone was broken, and the man fell dead upon the floor. "By my faith," said Roland, "you can play right well at blowing of the coal. Now blessed be the arm that struck that blow." The Duke said, "Blame me not, my friends, for ye saw how the man trifled with me." Then said Floripas, "Sir, you are worthy of all honour. Lucifer, I reckon, will have no more desire to play with you at the great coal. Nor will he wish to marry me. For indeed that was his purpose. Verily I had rather died the most villainous death than have had him for my husband."
After a while Floripas, being a woman of wise counsel, said to the knights, "This Lucifer that is now dead was a man much beloved by my father, who doubtless is even now waiting for him to come to dinner. As soon as it shall be known that he has been slain, you will be assailed; and if you be vanquished, not all the gold in the world will redeem you from death. Arm yourselves, therefore; and, being armed, wait not till you are assailed in this place, but issue forth and yourselves assail the Admiral's palace, and be sure that you do this in such fashion as to become masters of it."
This counsel seemed good to the Knights. So they armed themselves, and went forth, bold as lions and fierce as hungry wolves, and the time of going forth was the hour that is between day and night. First of all went Roland, and slew King Corsablis; next came Oliver, and he also smote a king, Coldro by name; great was the slaughter, for the Saracens were taken as they sat at meat. Many were killed and not a few leapt from the windows and so perished. As for the Admiral he escaped most narrowly; for as he leapt from a window Roland dealt a great blow at him with his sword, and the sword made a hole of a foot deep in the marble stone of the window. "Brother," said Oliver, "the Admiral has escaped from you." "You say true," answered Roland, "and I am but ill content." But the Frenchmen made themselves masters of the palace, and having shut fast the gates, were safe. But this was like to trouble them, that they had no meat.
Now the Admiral had lighted in a ditch, and now began to cry to his men that they should draw him out. And this service Brullant and Sortibrant did for him. And when he was drawn out, Sortibrant said to him, "Sir Admiral, did I not say to you that you should not trust a woman? See now what has happened. Another day you had better believe me. Keep by the tail of an old dog, and you will not go out of the way." The Admiral said, "Sortibrant, reproach me no more. I will be avenged of these men before many days be passed." "That is well," answered Sortibrant, "but now the night is far spent. I would counsel you to do nothing before the morrow." With this the Admiral was fain to be content. But he made great lamentation over Lucifer.
As for the Frenchmen, he vowed that he would drag them at the tails of his horses, making sure that they could not hold out, because they had nothing to eat, nor could their King send them any help, "for," said he, "all help must needs come over the bridge Mantryble, and that bridge we hold."
The next day the Admiral having assembled a great host, began to assail the castle with stones from slings and poisoned darts. In this way they did but little damage, but the knights and the maidens in the castle were sorely pressed for want of food, nor did any one suffer more than Floripas herself, who was grieved not for herself only, but for the knights also, and for the maidens that waited on her. When Guy of Burgundy saw this, he said to his fellows, "It is now three days since we had any bread. 'Tis a grievous thing to endure; and I suffer more for these damsels than for myself. It were better to die than to endure this pain. Let us, therefore, sally forth, and get for ourselves some victuals." This counsel pleased all the Frenchmen.
But Floripas said to them: "Now I see that the God whom you worship is of little power, seeing that he suffers you to remain in such straits. Now, if you had worshipped our gods, they would, beyond all doubt, have furnished you with abundance of meat and drink." Roland said, "Madam, let us see your gods. If they have such power as you say, we will surely worship them." Then Floripas took the keys, and took the French Knights to a place that was under the castle, where the gods were set in great state, Apollo, to wit, and Mahomet, and Termagaunt, and Jupiter, and others with them. Very splendid was the place, and full of gold and jewels. Guy of Burgundy said, "Here is store of gold: did King Charles possess this, he could set up the churches that have been overthrown."
Floripas said: "Sir Guy, you spake blasphemy against the gods; do you now worship them, that they may be inclined to help you." Sir Guy answered, "Madam, I cannot pray to them, for it seems to me that they are all asleep and take no heed of what may be said." So saying he smote the image of Jupiter that it fell to the ground, and Ogier the Dane smote another of the images. When they were all brought to the ground, Roland said to Floripas, "Madam, these gods are of no power and avail nothing." After this the maiden believed in them no longer.
After these things, Floripas having swooned for trouble and hunger, the knights sallied forth. And Roland said, "Now some one must keep the gates that we may be able, when the occasion comes, to enter it again. Let the Duke Naymes therefore keep it, or Ogier the Dane." The Duke said, "Think you, Sir Roland, that I am of estate so poor that I will serve as your porter? Assuredly I will not do so. Old I am, but yet I can ride my horse in battle, and my sinews are well set, and I have enough of strength to fight my enemies." "You shall do as you will, Sir Duke," said Roland. No man desired to take the place. Nevertheless, at the last Thierry abode with Geoffrey to keep the gate.