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 THE ACCOLADE.
 
 HEROES OF THE OLDEN TIME 
 
 THE 
 
 STORY OF ROLAND 
 
 BY 
 
 JAMES BALDWIN 
 
 Illustrated by T{. f B. 'Birch 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 
 1897
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1883, 1888, 
 BY CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS.
 
 x -:~ OAC* 
 
 THE FORE WORD. 
 
 THE fairyland of romance is not far removed from 
 the more sober domains of history. Indeed, the ter- 
 ritory of the one sometimes overlaps that of the other; 
 and the boundary line between them is often dim and 
 ill-defined. This truth is illustrated in the legends 
 
 which have come down to us from the middle ages. 
 
 > 
 In those rude, uncultured times, men did not care 
 
 greatly to sift fact from fiction, nor to pry into the 
 likelihood of things. No matter how improbable a 
 story might be, if it were pleasing to them, they 
 never thought of questioning its truth. Most of the 
 earlier legends began in song : they were sung or re- 
 cited by wandering bards or minstrels long before they 
 were written down. They have in them usually some 
 slender thread of real history, so covered over with 
 traditions, and mixed up with mysteries and marvels, 
 
 ui
 
 iv The Fore Word. 
 
 that it is impossible to know how much is fact, and 
 how much is fable. We read them chiefly to learn how 
 the men of those far-off cloudy days thought and felt, 
 what they believed, and with what kind of literature 
 they were entertained. [Yet if we remove the dross 
 and impurities which obscure the fairer and nobler 
 parts of these legends, and adapt them to our own 
 modes of thinking and expression, we shall not fail 
 to find some things that will instruct, and many that 
 will pleaseTT 
 
 Jean Bodel, a minstrel of the thirteenth century, 
 wrote, "There are but three subjects which interest 
 men, the tales of France, of Britain, and of Rome 
 the great ; and to these subjects there is nothing 
 like. The tales of Britain l are so light and pleas- 
 ant ; those of Rome 2 are wise and of teachful sense ; 
 those of France 8 truly every day of greater appear- 
 ance." 
 
 In this story of Roland as I propose telling it, I 
 shall introduce you to some of the most pleasing of 
 those "tales of France." The poems and legends 
 which embody them were written in various languages, 
 
 The romances of KiJg Arthur. a The Gesta Romanoruxn. 
 
 * 1 he legends of Charlemagne,
 
 TJie Fore Word. 
 
 and at widely different times ; but in them two names, 
 Charlemagne and Roland, are of very frequent occur- 
 rence. Charlemagne, as you know, was a real histori- 
 cal personage, the greatest monarch of mediaeval times. 
 His empire included France, the greater part of Ger- 
 many, and Italy ; and his power and influence were felt 
 all over the Christian world. The fame of his achieve- 
 ments in war was heralded and sung in every country 
 of Europe ; his name was in the mouth of every story- 
 teller and wandering bard ; and it finally became cus- 
 tomary to ascribe all the heroic deeds and wonderful 
 events of three centuries to the time of Charlemagne. 
 The songs and stories in which these events were 
 related were dressed up with every kind of embellish- 
 ment to suit the circumstances of their recital. Wild 
 myths of the Pagan ages, legends and traditions of the 
 Christian Church, superstitious notions of magic and 
 witchcraft, fantastic stories derived from the Arabs 
 T)f Spain and the East, all these were blended in 
 one strange mass, and grafted upon a slender core of 
 historical truth. The result was a curious mixture 
 of fact and fiction, qf__the real^and the marvellous, of 
 the beautiful and the impure, of Christian devotion 
 and heathen superstition. And it was thus that " the
 
 vi The Fore Word. 
 
 tales of France," which we may term the legendary 
 history of Charlemagne, came into being. 
 
 The Charlemagne of romance is a very different per- 
 sonage from the Charlemagne of history ; and the tales 
 which cluster around the name of that monarch must 
 not be regarded as true pictures of life and manners 
 during his reign, but rather as illustrations of the state 
 of society at the various times of their composition. 
 In the romances, Charlemagne is represented as the 
 patron of chivalry, and his warriors as possessing all 
 the knightly virtues. But we know, that, in his time, 
 the institution of chivalry did not exist, and that there 
 were no knights. In the tenth century, however, when 
 men first began tc* write down the tales of France, 
 chivalry was in its prime /and it was but natural that 
 the poet who wrote and sang for feudal chiefs and 
 lords should invest his heroes with knighthood, and 
 represent Charlemagne as the founder of the order. 
 
 Roland, the nephew of the Charlemagne of romance, 
 and his companion in all great enterprises, is unknown 
 to history. Yet he is the typical knight, the greatest 
 hero of the middle ages. His story, as I shall tell it 
 you, is not a mere transcript of the old romances. The 
 main incidents have been derived from a great variety
 
 The Fore Word. vii 
 
 of sources, while the arrangement and the connecting 
 parts are of my own invention. I have culled the story 
 from the song-writers and poets of five centuries and 
 of as many languages. Sometimes I have adhered 
 closely to the matter and spirit, and even the words, 
 of the originals ; sometimes I have given free rein to 
 my own imagination ; and throughout I have endeav- 
 ored so to arrange and retouch the individual parts of 
 the story as to lend interest to its recital, and adapt it 
 to our own ways of thinking, and our modern notions 
 of propriety. The oldest story of Roland was doubt- 
 less that which was sung by the minstrel of William the 
 Conqueror, in 1066. Wace, in his account of the battle 
 of Hastings, says, " Taillefer, who sang very well, rode 
 before the duke, singing of Charlemagne and of Roland 
 and of Oliver, and of the vassals who died at Ronce- 
 vaux." The song which Taillefer sang must have been 
 the " Chanson de Rojand^" written, by one Turold, per- 
 haps as early as the tenth century. It is by far the 
 finest of all the "tales of France." More than twenty 
 years after the battle of Hastings, there appeared a 
 Latin work, entitled "The Life of Charles the Great 
 and of Roland," which, it was claimed, had been written 
 by Archbishop Turpin, the father-confessor of Charle*
 
 viii The Fore Word. 
 
 magne. The falsity of this claim is too apparent to 
 I need any proof ; and yet the work, having been sane- 
 I tioned by Pope Calixtus, and placed by him upon the 
 Voll of canonical books, exerted no small influence over 
 (the poetical literature which followed it, and supplied 
 Vnaterials and suggestions to many later romancists. 
 /Tn England, in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, 
 there appeared several rhyming romances relating to 
 our hero. Among these were " Sir Ferumbras," an 
 adaptation of a French poem, entitled "Fierabras," 
 " Otuel," and " Roland and Ferragus." One of the 
 first books printed in our language was a legendary 
 history of Charlemagne, entitled "The Lyf of Charles 
 the Great, fynysshed in- the reducing of it into Eng- 
 lysshe the xviii day of Juin ft^CCLXXXV.' Ex- 
 plicit per William Caxton." In our own time Mr. 
 John Malcolm Ludlow, in his "Popular Epics of the 
 Middle Ages," has given us a valuable critical analysis 
 of some of the most noticeable legends of Roland and 
 Charlemagne. In Germany we find an adaptation of 
 the " Chanson de Roland " in an old poem, entitled 
 " Ruolandes Liet," which appeared, probably, as early as 
 1177, and has recently been edited by William Grimm. 
 Karl Simrock's " Kerlingisches Heldenbuch " contains
 
 Tlte Fore 
 
 some of the most delightful traditions of Roland and 
 Charlemagne; and the " Kaiserchronik," published in 
 1849, gives a complete legendary history of Charle- 
 magne and his peers from a German point of view. 
 In Italy the story of Roland was long a most fertile 
 and attractive theme, and gave rise to more than one 
 great poem. The legends relating to his parentage 
 and boyhood are contained in the "Innamoramento di 
 Milone d'Anglante," printed in the sixteenth century, 
 and in several other poems much older ; the " Orlando 
 Innamorato " of Boiardo tells us of the marvellous ad- 
 ventures of our hero in Fairyland and in the Far East ; 
 the " Orlando Furioso " of Ariosto tells of his prowess 
 as a knight, his disappointment in love, his madness 
 and ultimate recovery ; the " Morgante Maggiore " of 
 Pulci relates the story of his later adventures and his 
 death. In the mediaeval romances of Spain the name 
 of Roland is of frequent occurrence ; and the story, 
 modified to suit the prejudices of Spanish readers, is 
 found in numerous old songs and poems, some of them 
 as early as the twelfth century. .There is, in short, 
 no country in Europe, and no language, in which the 
 expkrits of Charlemagne and of Roland have not at 
 some Time been recounted and sung
 
 The Fore Word. 
 
 In relating the story of Roland it would, of course, be 
 impossible to avoid some mention of Oliver and Rein- 
 old, and Ogier the Dane, heroes who were his com- 
 panions in arms, and who rivalled him in the number 
 and greatness of their exploits. I have therefore been 
 at some pains to give, from the same ancient sources, 
 the most popular and pleasing legends concerning these 
 valorous knights, one of whom, at least, can lay claim 
 to an historical existence. 
 
 The old bards and story-tellers who invented, embel- 
 lished, and sang these famous " tales of France," were 
 accustomed to modify, recast, and remodel their stories 
 so as to adapt them to the tastes and demands of their 
 audiences. In presenting the story of Roland for the 
 first time in a connected form and to a juvenile audi- 
 ence, I shall certainly be pardoned if I endeavor to fol- 
 low their example.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 THE FORE WORD iii 
 
 ADVXHTUU 
 
 I. ROLAND AND OLTVBK . i 
 
 II. THE KING'S GUEST ........ 18 
 
 III. THE WAR WITH THE SAXONS 34 
 
 IV. THE KNIGHT OF THE SWAN 43 
 
 V. OGIER THE DANE 47 
 
 VI. How THE ARMY CROSSED THE ALPS ... 57 
 
 VII. KNIGHTED ON THE BATTLE-FIELD . . . 70 
 
 VIII. How OGIER WON SWORD AND HORSE . 81 
 
 IX. ROLAND'S ARMS 97 
 
 X. A ROLAND FOR AN OLIVER 114 
 
 XI. REINOLD OF MONTALBAN 133 
 
 XII. MALAGIS THE WIZARD 149 
 
 XIII. THE PRINCESS OF CATHAY 175 
 
 XIV. IN THE WOOD OF ARDENNES 192 
 
 XV. ROLAND'S QUEST IN THE FAR EAST .... 199 
 
 XVI. How REINOLD FARED TO CATHAY . . . .211 
 
 XVII. IN THE GARDENS OF FALERINA 218 
 
 XVIII. MORGAN THE FAY 232 
 
 XIX. How OGIER REFUSED A KINGDOM .... 240 
 
 XX. How ROLAND SLEW A SEA-MONSTER . . . .245 
 
 XXI How ROLAND FELL INTO PRISON .... 255
 
 Xll 
 
 Contents. 
 
 tarn 
 
 XXII. BRADAMANT THE WARRIOR MAIDEN .... 266 
 
 XXIII. THE WINGED HORSE OF THE PYRENEES . . 285 
 
 XXIV. How ROLAND LOST HIS HELMET .... 294 
 XXV. THE BATTLE 299 
 
 XXVI. MEDORO THE MOOR 306 
 
 XXVII. A CONTEST FOR DURANDAL 317 
 
 XXVIII. How ROLAND BECAME HIS OWN SHADOW . . .329 
 
 XXIX. A FLIGHT TO THE LAND OF PRESTER-JOHN . . 344 
 
 XXX. How THE PEERS RETURNED TO FRANCE . . .361 
 
 XXXI. How CHARLEMAGNE FOUGHT AGAINST OGIER . 365 
 
 XXXII. THE VALE OF THORNS 383 
 
 THE AFTER WORD 401 
 
 NOTES 407
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 From drawing! by R. B. Birch. 
 
 THE ACCOLADE Frontispiece. 
 
 ROLAND AND OLIVER ON THE HILLSIDE . . . To face page 4 
 THE WHITE STAG ... .... 65 
 
 "A ROLAND FOR AN OLIVE*" " " iiS, >', 
 
 THE FOUNTAIN OF MERLIN " " 197 
 
 THE COMBAT AT MIDNIGHT " " 210 
 
 IN THE DRAGON'S DEN ... "216 
 THE GARDENS OF FALERINA ..... * " 229 
 BRADAMANT AND PINABEL ......" * 277 
 
 CLORIDAN AND MEDORO "308 
 
 ROLAND'S MADNESS ....... * *335 
 
 THE BRIDGE or RODOMONT * 342 
 
 THE HARPIES " M 353 
 
 OGIER'S GARRISON "376 
 
 THE DEATH OF ROLAND * " 399 
 
 OGIER AND THE HORSE PAPILLON . . . . * '404 
 
 Xffi
 
 ADVENTURE I. 
 
 ROLAND AND OLIVER. 
 
 ONE summer afternoon rather more than eleven hun 
 dred years ago, the boy Roland was sitting in the cleft 
 of a broken rock that forms the crest of one of the hills 
 in the neighborhood of Sutri. Above him was the deep 
 blue sky of Italy, unflecked by any cloud : on either 
 side of him stretched a dull, uneven plain, broken here 
 and there by wet marshes, and long lines $f low hills. 
 A mile or more to the south, and partly hidden behind 
 the brow of the hill, i;ould be seen the old town, with 
 its strong castle, and its half-ruined amphitheatre, and 
 its white-walled monastery. Directly beneath him was 
 the dusty high-road, which, after winding among the 
 straggling vineyards and the little farms that dotted the 
 plain, was lost to sight in a strip of dusky woodland 
 a league and more to the northward. Along that road 
 King Charlemagne, with the flower of his great army, 
 was hourly expected to pass, marching on his way to 
 the castle of Sutri, where he was to be entertained for 
 a time as a guest ; and it was for this reason that the
 
 The Story of Roland. 
 
 lad sat so still, and watched so long, in his half-hidden 
 perch on the hill-top. 
 
 Every thing, as if awed by the near coming of 
 the hero-king, seemed strangely still that afternoon. 
 Scarcely a sign of life was to be seen ; and the places 
 which at other times had been noisy with busy work- 
 ers were now silent and deserted. The reapers, who 
 yesterday had made the wheat-fields ring with their gay 
 jests and their rude songs, had left their sickles in the 
 fields, and stolen silently away. The young girls who 
 had been gleaning the fallen grain, and whose laughter 
 had awakened the echoes among the hills, were nowhere 
 to be seen to-day, although the eagle eyes of Roland 
 sought them on every hand. Along the high-road, 
 which at other times seemed alive with the busy folk 
 coming and going between Sutri and Viterbo, neither 
 man, woman, nor beast was stirring. But off toward 
 Sutri the boy could see that things were quite differ- 
 ent. The town seemed to be decked in holiday attire : 
 the governor's castle was draped with gay bunting, and 
 flags and banners floated from the turret-tops. Com- 
 panies of knights dressed in rich livery rode hither and 
 thither, impatiently waiting the word from the watch- 
 man above the gates to go out and meet the kingly 
 guest. The streets were crowded with hurrying, eager 
 folk, who knew not whether to hail the coming of Char- 
 lemagne and his host as a blessing, or to look upon it as 
 a calamity. 
 
 Now and then the sound of voices from the town,
 
 Roland and Oliver. 
 
 or the cries of the soldiers in the garrison, came to 
 Roland's ears ; and anon he heard the monks in the 
 monastery drowsily chanting their prayers. And there 
 -he sat, waiting and wondering, and anxiously watching 
 for any sign of the coming host. The fair face of the 
 lad, and the long flaxen hair which fell in glistening 
 waves upon his bare shoulders, showed his kinship to 
 the hardy races of the North. And there was some- 
 thing in the piercing look of his eye, in the proud curl 
 of his lip, in the haughty turn of his head, which made 
 him seem like a young king among men, and which 
 often had caused those who met him to doff the hat in 
 humble courtesy. He was very poorly clad : his head 
 and limbs were bare ; and the thin, scant clothing which 
 covered his body was nought but rags and shreds. Yet 
 he bore himself proudly, as one who knew his own 
 worth, and who, having a blameless heart, had nothing j 
 of which to feel ashamed. 
 
 And now the sun began to slope toward the west ; 
 and, with each moment that passed, the lad's eagerness 
 seemed to grow greater. By and by another boy came 
 over the crest of the hill, and stood in the cleft of the 
 rock by the side of Roland, and with him gazed down 
 the deserted road. He seemed to be of about the same 
 age as Roland, and, like him, was tall and sparely built. 
 His dark hair and overhanging brows, his ruddy face 
 and flashing eyes, betokened an equal kinship with the 
 danger-daring North-folk and the leisure-loving people 
 of the South. He wore the rich dress of a court page,
 
 The Story of Roland. 
 
 and carried himself with a lofty grace such only as 
 those who bear brave hearts can ever show. 
 
 " I feared you were not coming, Oliver," said Roland, 
 offering his hand, but not once turning his head, or 
 taking his eyes from the distant woodland. 
 
 " It was indeed hard for me to get leave," answered 
 the other. " But the ladies at the castle are very kind, 
 and here I am ; and I mean to be, with you, the first to 
 see the great king and his valiant knights. Yet he is 
 late." 
 
 "I think I see them coming now," said Roland. 
 "There is a glimmering of light among the trees, which 
 I think must be the flashing of the sun upon their 
 armor. And it grows brighter, and seems to come 
 nearer." 
 
 He had scarcely finished speaking, when the clear 
 notes of a bugle were heard, borne faintly to them on 
 the breeze. And soon they heard a sound like the dis- 
 tant dashing of waves against the seashore, the rustling 
 of myriads of dry leaves in the autumn woods, the faint 
 rumbling of a far-away storm-cloud. They knew that 
 it was nought but the noise made by the trampling of 
 many feet, the heavy tread of war-horses, the rattling 
 of arms and armor. Then a great cloud of dust was 
 seen rising like a mist above the tree-tops ; and the rain 
 bow-hued banners of the coming host hove in sigh*" 
 
 Presently the edge of the wood seemed ablaze with 
 flashing shields and glittering war-coats. The boy 
 Roland leaped to his feet. He stood en tiptoe, and
 
 ROLAND AND OLIVER ON THE HILLSIDE.
 
 Roland and Oliver. 
 
 strained himself eagerly forwards ; his face beamed 
 with delight ; and his eyes sparkled with that strange j 
 wild fire which in after-days, in the midst of the battle's I 
 /din, was wont to strike his foes with terror. Oliver 
 climbed to the highest point of the rock, and gazed, 
 with an eagerness half mixed with fear, at the wonder- 
 ful array of steel-clad warriors, who now could be plainly 
 seen issuing from the woodland. Like a torrent of roll- 
 ing, flashing waters, the host of Charlemagne came 
 moving along the line of the highway, and spreading 
 across the plain. They came not, however, in all the 
 array of battle, nor with their terrible engines of war, 
 nor, indeed, as enemies bent on pillage, or seeking 
 revenge ; but they came, rather, as an army of peace, 
 with music sounding, and banners flying, and words 
 of good-will and friendship to all. For Charlemagne, 
 having left off fighting with the Lombards, was on his 
 way to Rome, with the best and bravest of his warri- 
 ors, to receive the homage and the blessing of the 
 Pope. 
 
 The vanguard of the procession drew rapidly nearer. 
 In front rode four and twenty knights, the heralds of 
 the king, bearing aloft the silken banner of France and 
 the golden eagle of Rome. They were clad in rich 
 armor, which glittered like gold in the sunlight ; their 
 shields were inlaid Vv'ith many priceless gems, and pol- 
 ished as bright as mirrors ; and the sharp points of 
 their long lances flashed around them like the restless 
 gleams of lightning in the van of a summer storm-cloud
 
 The Story of Roland. 
 
 They were mounted on ^milk-white horses trapped with 
 white cloth-of-gold, with gold-red saddles, and housings 
 of bluest silk. 
 
 The boy Roland had never seen any thing so beau- 
 tiful or so grand, and he thought that one of these 
 knights must surely be Charlemagne. And as they 
 drew very near to the foot of the hill, and he could 
 look down almost upon the heads of the brilliant com- 
 pany, he called to Oliver, and asked, 
 
 " Which of these knights is the great Charles ? Is 
 it not he who rides nearest the standard-bearer ? He, 
 surely, is the noblest warrior of them all ; and he rides 
 with a grace which well becomes a king." 
 
 But this scene, which filled the mind of Roland with 
 1 such astonishment, was not altogether new to Oliver. 
 Not many months before, his father, the governor of 
 Sutri, had taken him on a visit to the court of Charle- 
 magne ; and there he had witnessed the splendor of the 
 king's surroundings, and had heard of the fearful might 
 of his warriors. 
 
 " No," he answered. " The great king is not one of 
 these. They are but heralds and messengers, who ride 
 before to my father's castle to see that every thing is 
 in readiness for their master. They are right courtly 
 fellows, I ween, fair of speech, and comely of form ; but 
 I doubt if any of them would be ranked among his 
 bravest knights." 
 
 Following the heralds came a body of guards, a 
 thousand men of giant stature, and muscles of iron,
 
 Roland and Oliver. 
 
 incased from head to foot in strongest armor, and riding 
 heavy war-steeds trapped with steel. After these came 
 a long line of bishops and abbots and monks and priests, I 
 most of them dressed in the garb of their office or pro- 
 fession, and riding on the backs of palfreys or of mules. 
 
 " See you the tall bishop, dressed partly in armor, and 
 carrying a crucifix in one hand, while with the other he 
 toys with his sword-hilt ? " asked Oliver. " That is the 
 brave Turpin, one of the peers of Charlemagne. He is 
 at home in the battle-field as well as before the altar, 
 and many an unbelieving Pagan has felt the thrust of 
 his lance. But see ! here comes the king himself ! " 
 
 The whole highway and the fields before them now 
 seemed filled with steel-coated men, and horses clothed 
 in steel trappings ; and the long lances in the hands of 
 the knights seemed as thick-set as the blades of grass 
 in an autumn meadow. Everywhere were seen the 
 gleam of polished steel and the waving of gay plumes 
 and many-colored pennons ; and here and there were 
 banners, of varied shapes and every hue, on which were 
 emblazoned mottoes, and the strange devices of the war- 
 riors who bore them. First and foremost in this com- 
 pany was Charlemagne himself, clad in steel from head 
 to foot, and riding a horse of the color of steel and the 
 strength of steel. Roland, as soon as he saw him, knew 
 that this must be the king ; for there was no other man 
 who seemed so kingly, or who bore himself with so 
 lordly a grace. The noblest knight among his followers 
 seemed but a weak stripling when seen by the side of
 
 The Story of Roland. 
 
 the matchless Charlemagne. In his left hand he carried 
 a lance of steel of wondrous length, while his right 
 handheld the reins of his fiery steed. His head was 
 ^ bare, for he had laid aside his helmet ; and his long hair 
 fell in waves upon his steel-covered shoulders. His 
 broad shield, which was carried by an attendant knight, 
 was of plated steel of three thicknesses bound together 
 with iron bolts. His thighs were encircled with plates 
 of steel, and his hands were garnished with steel gaunt- 
 lets. On his kingly face a smile lingered ; and from his 
 gleaming gray eyes sparks of fire seemed to shoot ; and 
 under a weight of armor which would have borne down 
 a common man he carried himself erect and proud, like 
 one who was every inch a king. 1 
 
 With wonder, rather than with awe, Roland kept his 
 eyes fixed upon the noble figure of Charlemagne ; and 
 he did not withdraw his gaze until a sudden turn of the 
 road around the hill toward Sutri hid the steel-clad 
 company from his sight. He did not care to see that 
 part of the host which followed. He had no thought 
 for the throng of squires and pages, and the crowd of 
 common soldiers and grooms, who brought up the rear 
 with the baggage and the camp-equipage and the led 
 horses of the knights. He had seen the great Charles, 
 and that was all he wished. He beckoned to Oliver ; 
 and the two boys climbed down from their well-hidden 
 lookout, and started homeward. 
 To keep out of the way of the soldiery, and to shun 
 
 1 See Note i at the end of this volume.
 
 Roland and Oliver, 
 
 other hinderances, they followed a narrow pathway 
 which led them over the hill, and down the slope on the 
 other side from that where the highway ran. Not a 
 word did either speak until they reached the level fields ; 
 but here they paused, for here they must needs part. 
 The path which Oliver was to take led southward to the 
 lordly castle of Sutri, where, that night and the follow- 
 ing day, Charlemagne and his warriors were to rest and 
 be entertained. But Roland's way lay across the lonely 
 fields to a far different dwelling among the barren hills. 
 Before they parted, each took the other's hand ; and both 
 stood for some time in silence, their hearts full of 
 thoughts too big to find utterance in speech. Roland 
 spoke first. 
 
 "Some day, Oliver," said he, "we, too, shall be 
 knights, and we shall ride with Charlemagne and his 
 peers as proud as the proudest warriors we have seen 
 to-day." 
 
 "Yes," answered Oliver, his face beaming with 
 delight. " And boldly will we fare over land and sea, 
 fighting the Pagan-folk, and doing worthy deeds for the 
 honor of God, the king, and the ladies." 
 / " My motKer has often told me," said Roland, " that 
 tire day when I should first see Charlemagne would be 
 to me the beginning of a new life. I know not why 
 she said it ; but I have seen the great king, and I feel 
 that a wonderful change has come to me, and that I 
 shall no longer be a mere beggar-boy. I must soon be 
 up and away, doing my part in this busy world. Let
 
 io The Story of Roland. 
 
 us now, like real knights, pledge ourselves as brothers- 
 in-arms. Next to my mother, you are my dearest friend. 
 Let me call you my brother." 
 
 "You are indeed my brother, Roland," answered 
 Oliver earnestly. " You are my brother. Don't you 
 remember, that, since the day when you gave me such 
 a well-deserved drubbing for laughing at your ragged 
 clothing, we have been sworn brothers-in-arms ? Did 
 any one ever apologize for a fault more heartily than I 
 did then ? And did any one ever forgive with freer 
 grace than you forgave me ? And have any two per- 
 sons ever loved with a truer love than that which binds 
 us together ? " 
 
 " But we are only boys," said Roland. " You are a 
 
 page and a prince. I am a beggar and a prince : at 
 
 least so I have been told in my dreams. The next time 
 
 j we meet, we may both be knights. Let us pledge our- 
 
 ; selves, that, let that meeting be when it may, it shall be 
 
 a meeting between brothers-in-arms. "\ 
 
 Without more words, the two boys, still holding each 
 other's hands, knelt together by the roadside. And 
 they vowed to be true to each other so long as life 
 should last ; to share together whatever fortune might 
 betide, whether it should be good or ill ; to meet all 
 dangers together, and to undertake all great enterprises 
 in company ; to rejoice together in success, and grieve 
 together when sorrow should come ; to devote their lives 
 to the succor of the helpless and to the defence of the 
 right ; and, if need be, to die for each other.
 
 Roland and Oliver. 1 1 
 
 " And now," said Oliver, as they rose to their feet, 
 "let us, like true knights, seal our vow of brotherhood U 
 by exchanging tokens." 
 
 And with the word he took from his girdle a little 
 dagger with long gleaming blade and a handle of ivory 
 richly carved, and inlaid with gold. It was a gift from 
 his grandfather, Gerard of Viana, and had once belonged 
 to the Pagan-king of Morocco. It was the dearest of 
 Oliver's possessions, and hence the fittest token to 
 present to his brother-in-arms. As Roland took it 
 from his hand, and gazed with pleased eyes upon its 
 razor-edges, gleaming like lines of silver light, tears 
 stood in his eyes, for he knew how highly its owner 
 prized it. Then from the folds of his ragged garment 
 he drew the short, broken fragment of an old sword- 
 blade, dimmed with age and much rust, and dull with 
 many notches. 
 
 " My token," said he, " is but a poor return for the 
 beautiful keepsake you have given me. But it is very 
 dear to me, and I know that it will also be dear to you. 
 It is all that was left of my father's sword, when, 
 hemmed in by Pagan foes, he sold his life dearly in 
 fight, and died for the honor of the Jking and the 
 church.'^ 
 
 Oliver took the proffered token reverently, for he 
 already knew its story. He gazed a moment at the 
 curious letters carved on its sides, and at its hacked 
 and battered edge ; and then he placed it carefully in 
 his girdle. And the two boys, after many earnest words
 
 12 The Story oj Roland. 
 
 and many kind good-bys, turned away, and each has- 
 tened toward his own home. 
 
 By this time the sun had gone down, and the short 
 twilight was fast giving place to darkness. With hasty 
 steps Roland made his way across the fields toward the 
 low line of yellow hills, which now could be scarcely 
 seen, lying more than a league away, dimly outlined 
 against the western horizon. It was quite dark long 
 before he reached them. But he knew the way well, 
 and a light shining in the door of his mother's dwelling 
 helped to guide his steps across the uneven ground. 
 And what kind of a dwelling was it that Roland called 
 his home ? It was nothing more than a little cave hol- 
 lowed out of the rocky hillside, where, long before, a 
 holy hermit had made himself a quiet cell in which to 
 live, and worship God^JThe narrow entrance to the 
 cave was in great part hidden by flowering vines, which 
 Roland's mother had with daily care coaxed to grow in 
 the barren soil, and had trained to cling to the rough 
 rocks, and twine among the crevices overhead. Inside 
 every thing betokened poverty. A single stool, a broken 
 table, a few earthen dishes, the simple articles which 
 the hermit had left, these were the only pieces of 
 furniture. In one corner of the room hung an old set 
 of armor, dinted with many a lance-thrust, and hacked 
 in many a battle, but still kept bright against the day 
 when Roland should become a knight. Near it leaned 
 a long, broken lance which had done duty in more than 
 one tourney ; and beneath it was a battered shield, on
 
 Roland and Olizer. 1,3 
 
 which were emblazoned the arms of Charlemagne. The 
 stone floor was -bare, and the rough stone walls were 
 grimed with smoke, and the low ceilings were damp with 
 moisture. Few were the comforts of home in that 
 humble dwelling ; and but for the kind welcome of his 
 queen-like mother, the Lady Bertha, small would have 
 been the cheer that Roland would have found there. 
 
 "I have seen him, mother!" he cried, rushing into 
 her arms. "I have seen the great Charles and his 
 glorious army and his gallant peers. Would that I were 
 a man, that I. too, might ride forth with the king, the 
 bravest of the crave ! " 
 
 rThen the gentle Bertha took the lad's hand in her 
 own, and the two sat down together in their lowly 
 dwelling, and Roland told her of all that he had seen 
 that memorable afternoon ; but he talked most of the 
 noble Charlemagne, and of his kingly grace and bear- 
 ing. Then he spoke again of his own hopes and of his 
 high ambition, and of the time when he should be a 
 knight, and, mayhap, one of the peers of the king. 
 
 "And now, dear mother," said he, "the time has 
 come for me to learn the great secret of my life. To- 
 day I am twelve years old, old enough to be a page ; 
 to-day I have seen Charlemagne ; and to-day you have 
 promised to tell me all about my kinsfolk and myself, 
 and the great destiny which lies before me." 
 
 Then the Lady Bertha drew the lad close to her, and 
 told him the story of her own life ? nd his, a story so 
 Cull of strange surprises to Roland, that, when he heard
 
 14 The Story of Roland. 
 
 it, he wept for joy and for the big thoughts that came 
 welling up from his heart. She told him that the great 
 king whom he had seen that day, and whose fame was 
 known in every land, was his uncle and her own brother. 
 She told him how she, the spoiled and petted daughter 
 of Pepin, had been brought up at the French court; 
 and how, after her father's death, she had lived in her 
 brother's kingly palace at Aix, loved and honored next 
 to Charlemagne himself. Then she told, how, on a time, 
 there came to Charlemagne's court a worthy knight 
 named Milon, a warrior poor and needy, but brave, 
 and without reproach. " Milon boasted that his kin had 
 been' the noblest heroes of all time. Through his father 
 he traced his descent from the Greeks ; and he wore 
 the arms of Trojan Hector engraved upon his shield ; 
 and he numbered among his ancestors the godlike hero 
 Hercules. On his mother's side he claimed kinship 
 with the fair-haired heroes of the North, with the fear- 
 less Vikings, with Siegfried the dragon-slayer, with the 
 mighty Thor, and the matchless Odin. 
 
 " And when your mother, then the Princess Bertha, 
 saw the gallant Count Milon, and heard of his noble- 
 ness, and learned his true worth, she loved him. And 
 your uncle Charlemagne hated him, and banished him 
 from France, and sought even to take his life ; for he 
 wished to wed his sister to Duke Ganelon of Mayence, 
 one of his peers. But, when Mil /n fled from the king's 
 court at Aix, he went not alone ; he took me, the Prin- 
 cess Bertha, with him as his wife : for the good Arch-
 
 Roland and Oliver. 15 
 
 bishop Turpin had secretly married us, and given us his 
 blessing, and promised to help us on our way to Italy. 
 When Charlemagne heard how he had been outwitted, 
 he was very angry, and he swore that he would do his 
 uttermost to ruin Count Milon, and to bring me back to 
 France, and make me the wife of the hated Ganelon. 
 And so, to escape his anger, we dressed ourselves in 
 the guise of beggars, and wandered on foot from town 
 to town and through many countries, begging our bread. 
 And wherever we went we met the spies of Charle- 
 magne seeking for Milon, and offering a price for his 
 head. At last we came to Sutri, tired and footsore, and 
 unable to go any farther. And, when none would take 
 us into their houses, we found shelter in this wretched 
 cave, which we fitted up the best that we could, to serve 
 as a home until we could soften the anger of Charle- 
 magne, and obtain his forgiveness. But soon after you 
 were born, Roland, the Pagan_-folk-rossed the sea, and 
 came into Italy, and threatened Rome itself. Then 
 your father, the gallant Milon, remembering his knightly 
 vows, once more donned his armor ; and, taking his lance 
 and his shield, he went out to do battle for the king and 
 for the holy church. You know the rest. You know 
 how bravely he fought, and how he died, as heroes die, 
 with his face toward the foe. All this I have told you 
 often. And you know how we have lived these long, 
 weary years in this wretched hermit-cell, dependent on 
 our kind neighbors for food, and hop ng always for 
 brighter and better days.
 
 1 6 The Story of Roland. 
 
 " And now you have learned the story of your birth 
 and your kinship, and you know the destiny that is 
 yours if you but do your part. The blood that flows in 
 your veins is the blood of heroes, and it will not belie 
 itself. You have seen Charlemagne, and to-day is the 
 turning-point in your life. Before the king leaves Sutri, 
 he must acknowledge you as his nephew, and take you 
 as a page into his court." \ 
 
 Then mother and son sat long together in the quiet 
 cell, talking of the past, so fraught with distress and 
 poverty and wretchedness, and of the unknown future 
 with its vague promises and uncertain hopes. But so 
 great was the lad's trust in his own strength, and so 
 firm was the mother's faith in her son, that not once 
 did clouds of doubt darken the bright pictures which 
 their fancy painted of the good fortune yet in store for 
 them. And the little candle which lighted the humble 
 room burned down, and left them in darkness ; and the 
 moon rose over the hills, and peeped in through the 
 doorway, and sloped downwards toward the west ; and 
 the stars, one by one, looked in between the vines, and 
 then went onward in their endless journey around the 
 world ; and at length the eastern sky began to brighten, 
 and then to blush at the coming of the sun ; and still 
 the Lady Bertha and the boy Roland sat, unmindful of 
 the passing hours, and talked of the new life which they 
 felt must soon be theirs. But when the morning had 
 fairly come, and the first rays of the sun shot in upon 
 them, Roland, as if suddenly awakened, sprang to his
 
 Roland and Oliver. 17 
 
 " Mother, the night is past, and the day has dawned ! 
 the first day in the great new life which is mine. 
 I will go at once to my uncle, the king, and demand my 
 rights and yours." 
 
 And with his mother's blessing and many a word of 
 advice well fixed in his memory, the lad hurried away, 
 walking rapidly across the fields toward Sutri.
 
 1 8 The Story of Roland. 
 
 ADVENTURE II. 
 
 THE KING'S GUEST. 
 
 IT was a great day in Sutri. Never since the old 
 Roman days had so brilliant a company of warriors 
 and noble men been seen in that quiet town. In the 
 governor's castle the king and the peers of the realm 
 were being entertained and feasted. The chambers 
 and halls and courts were full of knights and squires ; 
 and every one talked of the noble order of chivalry, and 
 of war, and <?f arms and armor, and of the king's prog- 
 ress on the morrow to Rome. In the broad feast-hall, 
 Charlemagne and his peers were dining. On the dais, 
 by the side of the king, sat Count Rainier, the govern- 
 or of Sutri. Around them stood many of the noblest 
 knights, attentive to their slightest wishes. Next below 
 the king sat Turpin, the warrior-bishop, clad to-day, 
 not in his war-coat of steel, but in his rich official robes, 
 and looking much more the priest than the knight. 
 Next to him sat Duke Namon of Bavaria, the king's 
 counsellor, gray-bearded and sage, strong in fight, and 
 wise in statesmanship, the oldest and the most trusted 
 of all the peers. On the other side was Malagis, the
 
 The King's Guest. 19 
 
 cunning dwarf, who, it was said, had power over the! 
 unseen creatures of the air, and by means of witchery/i 
 could sometimes foretell the things that were about t 
 befall. Next to him was old Ganelon of Mayence, at 
 heart a vile trailer, the smile of a hypocrite resting on 
 his thin lips, and his serpent-eyes twinkling with an 
 evil light. On either side of the long table below sat 
 many worthy knights, the most trusted warriors of 
 Charlemagne, and the doughtiest heroes in Christen- 
 dom. I doubt if ever more valor was seen in castle- 
 hall. 
 
 Mirth and revelry ruled the hour ; and the long, low 
 hall rang with the sound of the harp and the flute 
 and the glad voices of the singers. The great oaken 
 table groaned beneath its weight of good cheer. The 
 lordly Count Rainier had provided for this feast every 
 thing that was pleasant to the taste, or that could add 
 zest to the appetite. The richest meats and the rarest 
 fruits, sparkling wine and foaming ale, the whitest bread 
 and the most tempting sweetmeats all were offered in 
 generous profusion as if on purpose to make the knights 
 forgetful of their vows of temperance. In the court- 
 yard, around the open door, stood numbers of the poor 
 people of the town, listening to the music, and waiting 
 for the morsels that would be left after the feast. Sud- ; 
 denly a young boy, ragged and barefooted, appeared 
 among them. All stood aside for him, as, with proud 
 step and flashing eyes, he entered the great hall. With 
 the air of a lord he pushed his way through the crowdj
 
 2O Tlie Story of Roland. 
 
 of attendant knights and squires, and walked boldly up 
 to the table. Then, without saying a word, he seized 
 upon a basket of rare fruit and a loaf of bread that had 
 i been placed before the king. 
 
 "Indeed," said Charlemagne, "that is a bold boy. 
 He will make a brave knight." 
 
 But those who stood around were so awed by the 
 lad's proud bearing and by the strange flash of his eyes, 
 I that they dared not touch him ; nor did they think of 
 placing any hinderance in his way until he had seized 
 the golden wine-cup which Charlemagne was on the 
 point of lifting to his lips. 
 
 "Stop!" cried the king. "How dare you be so 
 rude?" 
 
 But Roland held fast to his prize ; and, fearless as a| 
 young eagle, he gazed into the face of the king. Charle- 
 magne tried hard to appear angry ; but, in spite of him- 
 self, a pleasant smile played upon his face, and his eyes 
 twinkled merrily. 
 
 "My boy," said he, "the forest is a fitter place tKan 
 this banquet-hall for such as you. You would do better 
 picking nuts from the trees than snatching dishes from 
 the king's table ; and the wine which you have taken 
 from my hand is not nearly so good for you as the water 
 in the flowing brook." 
 
 " The peasant drinks from the brook," answered 
 Roland proudly ; " the slave gathers nuts in the forest. 
 But to my mother belong the best things that your table 
 affords. The choicest game, the rarest fish, the reddest 
 wine, are hers."
 
 The King's Guest. 21 
 
 " Ha ! " cried the king. " Your mother must indeed 
 be a noble lady ! And I suppose you will tell me that 
 she lives in a lordly castle, with scores of brave knights 
 and gentle dames about her, and that she sits daily in hei 
 great feast-hall at a table loaded with every delicacy. 
 How many servants has she ? Who is her carver ? and 
 who is her cup-bearer ? Come, tell us all about it." 
 
 " My right hand is her carver," answered Roland ; 
 "and my left hand is her cup-bearer." 
 
 " And has she soldiers and watchmen and minstrels, 
 this wonderful mother of yours ? " 
 
 " Indeed she has. These two arms are her soldiers ; 
 these eyes are her watchmen ; these lips are her min- 
 strels." 
 
 " That is a numerous household and a worthy one," 
 answered the king, now very much amused. " But your 
 good mother has strange taste in the matter of livery 
 for her servants. I see they are all bare-headed and 
 bare -footed ; and their clothing, what there is of it, is 
 made of all the colors of the rainbow. How came she 
 to furnish you with a robe so rich and rare ? " 
 
 " My robe is of my own furnishing," answered Roland. 
 " Eight boys in the town do me homage ; and they pay 
 me tribute in cloth, each a different color. And now, 
 my lord, since you have learned all about my mother 
 and her household, will you not visit her in her castle ? " 
 
 Before the king could answer, the boy had turned on 
 his heel, and, with the basket of food and the cup of 
 wine in his hands, he fearlessly walked out of the hall
 
 22 The Story of Roland. 
 
 Charlemagne was surprised at the boldness of the lad, 
 and delighted with his witty answers. 
 
 "Let him go," said he. "A braver lad I have never 
 ueen ; and he well deserves his prize. He will yet be- 
 come the noblest knight in Christendom." 
 
 Then, turning to Duke Namon, he whispered, " Saw 
 you that strange flash in his eye ? Was there ever a 
 fairer countenance, or a more king-like form ? Tell me 
 truly, did he not remind you of some one you have seen 
 elsewhere ? " 
 
 " He did, my lord," answered Namon. " He reminded 
 me of your worthy father, the great Pepin. He has the 
 same noble features, the same broad brow, the same 
 clear gray eyes flashing with a strange light. He 
 reminded me, too, of yourself. Had he been clothed 
 in a garb befitting a prince, I should have imagined 
 that I saw you again as you appeared when a boy. But 
 he reminded me most of your lost sister, the fair Prin- 
 cess Bertha. The same gentleness of manner, the same 
 proud carriage of the head, the same curl of the lip, 
 qualities that we once admired so much in the Lady 
 Bertha, may all be seen in this wonderful boy." 
 
 " I dreamed last night," said the king, " that my dar- 
 ling sister came to me, leading just such a boy as this. 
 And I thought that he grew tall and strong, and that 
 the whole world looked up to him as a pattern of 
 knightly valor and courtesy, and that he carried my 
 whole kingdom upon his shoulders Now this boy is 
 no common lad ; and the mother of whom he speaks
 
 The King's Guest. 23 
 
 can be no common beggar. My heart tells me that she 
 is the long-lost, long-forgiven Bertha." 
 
 " Your heart speaks rightly," answered Namon. " The 
 son of no other lady could bear so perfect a likeness to 
 the Pepins. I am sure that we have found her at last." 
 
 Then Charlemagne turned to the dwarf Malagis. 
 'What say you, sir wizard?" he asked. "You have 
 the gift of foresight, and you can read that which lies 
 hidden to the eyes of others. What think you of a boy 
 who comes thus boldly to our table, and levies mail from 
 us as if it were his right ? " 
 
 The dwarf twisted and writhed about in his seat : he 
 smiled, as only wizards can smile, and then he humbly 
 but wisely answered, 
 
 " My lord, the lad is no beggar. The blood of heroes 
 flows in his veins. Kings are his kinsmen. Great 
 deeds await his coming into manhood. Harm him not, 
 but have him sought out, and brought again before you. 
 I have read in the stars that somehow the woof of your 
 life is strangely interwoven with that of a lad like this." 
 
 Charlemagne at once ordered a dozen squires to follow 
 the boy secretly to find where he dwelt, and then, with- 
 out harming him, to bring both him and his mother to 
 the castle. And then the feasting, which had been so 
 strangely broken off, was begun again. And the wassail - 
 bowl went round, and many a weak-souled knight forgot 
 his solemn vows of temperance ; and the old hall again 
 resounded with music and with uproarious mirth ; and 
 the boy Roland was for a time forgottea
 
 24 The Story of Roland. 
 
 Very anxiously did the fair Bertha in the lonely 
 hermit-cell await the return of her son that day. He 
 had left her in the morning, determined to make himself 
 known to Charlemagne, and to demand the forgiveness 
 of his mother, and her re-instatement in the king's 
 palace. He had promised to be back very soon, with a 
 palfrey for his mother to ride upon, and a company of 
 knights and squires to escort her to the castle. But 
 hour after hour had passed by ; and it was now high 
 noon, and still the boy did not come. Could it be pos- 
 sible that he had been too rash, and had been impris- 
 oned, or otherwise severely punished, for his boldness ? 
 Another hour went by ; and Bertha was about to despair 
 of his return, when Roland suddenly appeared around 
 the foot of the hill, carrying on his left arm a basket of 
 food and in his right-hand a golden goblet of wine. 
 
 " Mother," he cried, as he set his burden down in the 
 doorway of the grotto, " mother, I have brought you 
 some share of the feast. You shall not starve while 
 your brother, who is no better than you, eats and drinks, 
 and has such plenty of other luxuries that he knows not 
 what to do with them." 
 
 Then he placed before her the bread and the wine, 
 and a delicately baked fowl, and the rare fruits ; and, 
 while she ate, he told her all that had happened to him 
 since he had left her in the morning. He had waited a 
 long time about the palace-doors, trying in vain to be 
 allowed to see the king. The guards said that he was 
 sleeping, and would not be disturbed. If he cot Id only
 
 The King's Guest. 25 
 
 have found his friend Oliver, all would have been well 
 But the page was nowhere to be seen ; and a squire 
 whom he asked said that he had gone that morning, 
 with a company of knights and dames, to Rome, and 
 that it would be long ere he returned again to Sutri. 
 At length, by the merest chance, he had peeped in 
 through the open door of the banquet-hall, and had seen 
 the king himself seated at the table. 
 
 "I could not bear," he said, "to see so great plenty 
 of all that was good, and to hear the mirth of the greedy 
 revellers, and know that you were here in this wretched 
 cave without a morsel of food. I walked right in and 
 took the best, nor did I regard that I was robbing the 
 king. He talked to me, and seemed not a bit angry ; 
 and I feel sure that he will send for me to come again 
 before him, and then I will tell him all." 
 
 "Ah, Roland," said the Lady Bertha doubtfully, 
 "you do not know your kingly uncle. He is hot-tem- 
 pered and violent ; and he may yet punish you for your 
 rashness, and listen to no word of explanation or excuse. 
 Many an innocent man has suffered from his unreason- 
 ing anger." 
 
 " I am not afraid," answered the boy. " He was 
 altogether too jolly to be angry. And I expect, ere this 
 time to-morrow, to be installed as a page to the king or 
 to one of his peers." 
 
 He had scarcely spoken these words, when the squires 
 who had been sent in search of him came around the 
 foot of the hill, and halted only a few yards from the
 
 26 Tlie Story of Roland. 
 
 entrance to the grotto. Some were on foot, some on 
 horseback ; and all were armed with sticks, and more or 
 less under the influence of the strong ale which they 
 had drunk at the banquet As soon as they saw 
 Roland, they called out loudly to him, ordering him to 
 surrender himself as their prisoner. 
 
 " Come along at once, my little one," cried the leader. 
 " The king wants you for robbing his table." 
 
 Had the squires approached Roland in a respectful 
 manner, he would have gone with them gladly. But 
 their insolence maddened him. 
 
 "Tell the king," he answered, "that I am holding 
 high court at home to-day, and that, if he wants me, he 
 must come after me himself." 
 
 "But you must come with us," cried the squires. 
 " You, and your mother the beggar-woman, must come 
 with us to Sutri, and lose no time." 
 
 " Beggar-woman, indeed ! " cried Roland, overflowing 
 with rage. " How dare you speak thus of the sister of 
 Charlemagne ? Go back to the king, and tell him that 
 his nephew is not wont to do the bidding of squires and 
 churls. Tell him that only by the worthiest of his 
 peers will my mother and I be taken into his presence." 
 
 At this boastful speech of one whom they looked 
 upon as only a beggar, the squires laughed heartily ; and 
 one or two of them shook their sticks in a threatening 
 manner, and made as if they would seize upon the boy. 
 Roland ran quickly into the grotto, and soon came out 
 again, bearing the long, broken lance in his hands. But
 
 The King's Guest. 27 
 
 it was a heavy weapon, and, as he found it, an unwieldy 
 one. The squires closed in upon him from every side ; 
 and, as the great length of the lance prevented him from 
 turning it quickly enough to guard himself at all points, 
 he was obliged to drop it to the ground. In its stead, 
 he seized a stout light club that lay in his way, and then, 
 taking his stand hi the doorway, he dared his assailants 
 to come within his reach. 
 
 " You shall see," said he, " whether I cannot defend 
 my mother's castle." 
 
 The squires, astonished at the quickness and the 
 pluck of the boy, fell back, and began trying to per- 
 suade him to go with them peaceably. But Roland 
 stood warily in the doorway of his castle, and answered 
 them only by swinging his club in the faces of the 
 nearest, and by withering glances of defiance. It is 
 uncertain how long this strange scene would have 
 lasted, or how it would have ended, had it not been 
 unexpectedly interrupted. A knight, unarmed, and 
 mounted on a coal-black steed, rode suddenly around 
 the hill, and reined up in the midst of the excited crowd. 
 His long hair and flowing beard were white with age ; 
 and his pleasant face beamed with kindliness, and was 
 lighted up with lines of far-seeing wisdom. 
 
 "Ha, my brave men!" he cried in tones of merri- 
 ment. " What have we here ? Twelve gallant squires 
 in combat with a single boy ! And the boy holds his 
 castle against them all. Surely this is chivalry ! What 
 does it all mean ? "
 
 28 The Story of Roland. 
 
 " It means," answered Roland, " that these fellows 
 want to take me by force to the king at Sutri, and 
 they have insulted me and my mother. Were they 
 knights, or even gentlemen, I would go with them ; but 
 they are neither. They are mere churls and hangers- 
 on about the governor's court, and they know nought of 
 honor and knightly courtesy. It will be long ere they 
 are worthy to wear the golden spurs." 
 
 The knight was amused at the boy's earnestness ; and 
 he said, " I cannot blame you for refusing to be taken 
 by them. Yet I know that the king wishes very much 
 to see you and your good mother, and he has sent me 
 to hasten your coming. I am Namon, Duke of Bavaria, 
 and I am sometimes known as one of Charlemagne's 
 peers. Perhaps you will be willing to go with me if I 
 send these squires away." 
 
 Roland, without a word of dissent, dropped his club 
 to the ground, and promised to go with the good knight 
 at once if he would only find some means by which his 
 mother might be helped to reach Sutri castle without 
 the fatigue of walking so far. Duke Namon dismounted 
 from his steed, and, having sent the squires away, went 
 with Roland into the little cavern. There he was 
 welcomed heartily by the Lady Bertha, who remem- 
 bered him as a firm, kind friend in former days, when 
 both were inmates of Charlemagne's palace at Aix. 
 And the fair lady and the noble knight talked long 
 together of things that had happened since then in 
 France, of the gallant deeds of her brother the king,
 
 The King's Guest. 29 
 
 and of his many triumphs at home and abroad ; of the 
 death of the gallant Milon, and of the long years of 
 wretchedness and want that had since dragged by. 
 And the knight told her how Charlemagne had sought 
 in every land for her, and had sent messengers beyond 
 the sea to inquire for her, in order that he might grant 
 her his forgiveness, and make some amends for his 
 former harshness. But all in vain. The messengers 
 had brought back word that Milon was dead, but they 
 could find no traces of his noble wife ; and Charlemagne 
 mourned her as lost. And then Namon told her of 
 Roland's strange, daring deed in the feast-hall at Sutri 
 castle that day, and of the thoughts that he and the king 
 had had about the boy ; and lastly he spoke of the king's 
 desire that she should appear at once before him, and, if 
 she were indeed the lost Princess Bertha, she should be 
 restored to her old place in his court and in his affec- 
 tions. 
 
 And towards evening the noble duke, with the Lady 
 Bertha mounted behind him on a pillion, rode gayly 
 over the fields to Sutri ; while Roland, proud and happy, 
 and carrying his father's broken lance on his shoulder, 
 followed them on foot. Glad, indeed, was the greeting 
 with which the king welcomed his sister; but not a 
 word could the fair Bertha speak, so overwhelmed was 
 she with gratitude. Roland, still wearing his livery of 
 many-colored rags, but holding himself erect and 
 haughty as a prince, raised his wondrous gray eyes 
 until they met Charlemagne's gaze.
 
 30 The Story of Roland. 
 
 "Sister," said the king, "for this boy's sake, if for 
 nought else, all shall be forgiven. Let the past be 
 forgotten in the joy of the present hour." 
 
 "Dear brother," said fair Bertha, "your kindness 
 shall not go unrewarded. Roland will not disappoint 
 you. He will grow up to be, next to you, the pattern 
 of all heroes and the type of all manly virtues." x 
 
 And the next day a great feast was held in the ban- 
 quet-hall of Count Rainier's castle, in honor of the fair 
 princess and her gallant little son. And not only the 
 bravest warriors in Charlemagne's service, but also 
 many noble ladies and many knights from Rome and 
 the country round about, sat down with the king at the 
 festal board. And this time Roland was not an un- 
 invited guest ; but he sat in the place of honor at the 
 king's right hand, while squires and servitors waited his 
 call, and hastened to do his bidding. And Charlemagne 
 rested two days longer at Sutri before proceeding on 
 his march ; and then he sent his sister, the princess, 
 with a guard of trustworthy knights, back to France 
 and to the pleasant palace and halls of Aix. But 
 Roland was made a page in the service of good Duke 
 Namon ; and, when the grand army moved on again 
 towards Rome, he bade good-by to his humble friends 
 in Sutri, and made ready to go too. No happier, 
 prouder heart beat in Italy that day than Roland's 
 Dressed in a rich gown of green velvet bordered with 
 t crimson and gold, and mounted on a white palfrey 
 
 1 See Note 2 at the end of this volume.
 
 The King's Guest. 31 
 
 handsomely harnessed, he seemed not like the bare- 
 footed beggar to whom the boys of Sutri had been 
 wont to do homage. But it needed not that one should 
 look closely to recognize that same noble form, those , 
 wonderful gray eyes, that proud but kind-like face. I 
 And he rode not with the rout of squires and soldiers 
 and hangers-on who brought up the rear of the army, 
 but by the side of Duke Namon, and in company with 
 the bravest knights and the peers of the realm. 
 
 All along the road the people of the towns, the cas- ( 
 ties, and the country-side, crowded to see the conquer- 
 ing hero ; and they welcomed him with shouts and glad 
 songs as the guardian of Italy and the champion of all 
 Christendom. Three miles this side of Rome all the 
 noblest men of the city came out, with music playing 
 and banners "waving, to escort the grand army through 
 the gates. At a mile from the walls the children of 
 the schools met them, bearing palm-leaves and olive- 
 branches in their hands, and strewing flowers in the 
 way, and singing hymns in honor of the hero-king. 
 Charlemagne had. laid aside his arms and his armor ; 
 and, dressed in his kingly robes, he rode by the side of 
 the good Archbishop Turpin. His mantle was wrought 
 of the finest purple, bordered with gold and ermine ; 
 upon his feet were sandals sparkling with priceless 
 gems ; upon his head was a coronet of pearls and flash- 
 ing jewels. His horse was harnessed in the most 
 goodly fashion, with trappings of purple damask bor- 
 dered with ermine and white cloth-of-gold.
 
 32 The Story of Roland. 
 
 At the gate of the city the procession was met by a 
 company of priests and monks bearing the standard of 
 the cross, which was never taken out save on the most 
 solemn and magnificent occasions. When Charlemagne 
 saw the cross, he and his peers alighted from their 
 horses, and went humbly on foot to the steps of St. 
 Peter's Church. There he was met by the Pope, the 
 bishops, and a great retinue of priests and monks, 
 dressed in their richest vestments, who welcomed him 
 to Rome, and blessed him. And on every side, in the 
 streets and in the church, loud shouts rent the air, and 
 the people joined in singing the chant, "Blessed is he 
 that cometh in the name of the Lord." 
 
 The boy Roland, having never seen such grandeur, 
 was filled with wonder and astonishment. "Surely," 
 said he, "this is the happy vale of paradise, of which 
 my mother has so often told me, where every Christian 
 knight hopes one day to find a home." 
 
 " It is not that vale," answered good Duke Namon ; 
 "but it is the beginning of the road which leads 
 thither." 
 
 Not many days did Charlemagne remain at Rome. 
 Messengers came to him from France, who said that 
 the Saxons and other Pagan-folk had crossed the Rhine, 
 and were carrying fire and sword into the fairest por- 
 tions of the land ; and they begged him to hasten his 
 return to his own country, that he might protect his 
 people from the ravages of their barbarous foes. So, 
 
 1 Sec Note 3 at the end of this volume. 
 I
 
 The King's Guest. 33 
 
 having received the homage and the blessing of the 
 Pope, and having been crowned with the iron crown ol 
 the Lombards, he marshalled all his forces, and set out 
 on his journey back to France. And late that same 
 autumn, Roland saw for the first time the noble city of 
 Aix, and was formally installed as page in Duke Namon's 
 household.
 
 34 The Story of Roland. 
 
 ADVENTURE III. 
 
 THE WAR WITH THE SAXONS. 
 
 A STORMY winter had set. in. It was unlike any thing 
 that Roland had ever seen in his sunny southern home; 
 and he was scarcely more astonished by the grandeur of 
 Charlemagne's court than by this wonderful war of the 
 elements. The bleak north winds, like so many giants 
 let loose, came roaring through the forests, and shriek- 
 ing among the house-tops and the castle-towers, carrying 
 blinding tempests of sleet and snow in their arms, and 
 hurling them angrily to the ground. The rivers were 
 frozen over ; the roads were blockaded ; there was little 
 communication between Aix and other parts of Charle- 
 magne's dominions. The main part of the army was 
 still in Southern France, and there it was ordered to 
 stay until the opening of spring should make it possi- 
 ble to advance against the Saxons. 
 
 Very pleasant to Roland was his first winter at 
 Charlemagne's court. Within the palace-halls there 
 were comfort and good cheer ; the fires blazed high and 
 warm in the great chimney-places ; there was much 
 music and merry-making ; and for Roland there were
 
 The War with the Saxons. 35 
 
 many agreeable duties.' Much of his time was spent in 
 the service of the ladies at court, and especially of the 
 Duchess Blanchefleur, the wife of good Duke Namon. 
 And he was instructed in the first duties of the true 
 knight, to reverence God, and honor the king ; to 
 speak the truth at all times; to deal justly with both 
 friend and foe; to be courteous and obliging to his 
 equals ; to be large-hearted and kind to those beneath 
 him in rank ; and, above all, to help the needy, to pro- 
 tect the weak, and to respect and venerate the ladies. 
 Some time, too, he spent in the company of his lord, 
 Duke Namon. He waited on him at table, he poured 
 out his wine, he carried his messages ; and much wis- 
 dom did he learn, listening to the words that fell from 
 the lips of the sage counsellor. He became acquainted* 
 too, with the officers of the court, and with the squires 
 and grooms about the palace. And he learned how to 
 manage horses, and how to mount and ride a high- 
 mettled steed. He was taught how to hold a lance with 
 ease, how to handle the broadsword dexterously, and 
 how to draw the longbow, and shoot with sharp-sighted 
 skill. When the weather was fine, and the snow not 
 too deep on the ground, he often rode out with his mas- 
 ter and other knights to hunt the deer and wild-boars 
 in the forest. And he learned all about the training 
 and care of falcons and merlins and hunting-hounds, 
 and how to follow the game in the wildwood, and how 
 to meet the charge of a wounded buck or a maddened 
 boar. Sometimes, during the long winter evenings, he
 
 36 The Story of Roland. 
 
 sat in the school of the palace with Charlemagne and 
 the members of the family, and listened to the wise in- 
 structions of Alcuin, the English schoolmaster. And 
 he learned to read in the few Latin books that were 
 treasured with great care in the scriptorium, or writing- 
 room, of the palace ; and sometimes, under the direction 
 of the schoolmaster, he tried to copy the beautiful letters 
 of some old-time manuscript. At other times he sat 
 with the knights and the squires in the low-raftered 
 feast-hall, and listened to the music and the song-stories 
 of some wandering harper. 
 
 And thus the winter months sped swiftly by ; and as 
 the days began to grow longer and warmer, and the 
 snow melted from the ground, and the ice thawed in 
 the rivers, Charlemagne thought it time to make ready 
 for the long-deferred campaign against the Saxons. 
 Messengers were sent out in every direction to summon 
 every true knight and every loyal fighting-man to join 
 the king's standard at Aix ; and it was expected, that, by 
 the time of the Easter festival, a hundred thousand war- 
 riors would be there, ready to march against the Pagan- 
 folk of the North. About the king's castle many busy 
 preparations were going on. Some were furbishing up 
 dkir arms, or mending their old armor ; others were 
 providing new weapons for themselves, or new harness 
 for their steeds ; knights, squires, pages, and grooms, 
 all found enough to do, and all looked forward with 
 eager impatience to the day that was set for the march. 
 In the smithies the bellows roared and the fires glowed ;
 
 The War with the Saxons. 37 
 
 and smiths and armorers worked day and night, forging 
 swords and spear-points, and riveting armor-plates and 
 rings of mail. And even in the kitchens there was an 
 unwonted hurrying to and fro, and the sound of busy 
 voires and busier hands; while in the halls and thsx 
 cattle-chambers many a brave-hearted lady sat stitching 
 ^nd embroidering rich garments for her lord. 
 
 The time of the Easter festival came at last. Grass 
 vas springing fresh and green in the meadows. The 
 trees were putting forth their leaves. In the wildwood 
 the voice of the cuckoo and the song of the warbler v ' 
 were heard. The ice had disappeared from the river, 
 and the snow had melted in the valleys : the roads were 
 once more passable. It seemed a fitting time for the 
 beginning of new schemes and of bold undertakings. 
 And early one April morning the great army, with 
 Charlemagne and his peers at its head, filed out of the 
 city, and began its march toward the Rhine. And 
 Roland, proud and happy as a knight with spurs, was 
 allowed to ride in the train of Duke Namon. 
 
 When the Saxons heard of the coming of the Franks, 
 they hastily crossed again into their own country, and 
 shut themselves up in their towns and strongholds. But 
 Charlemagne followed them without delay ; nor did the 
 wide, deep Rhine hinder him long. Through all their 
 land he carried fire and sword ; nor did he spare any 
 one through pity. For he was a Christian : while the 
 Saxons were Pagans, and worshipped Thor and Odin ; 
 and many of them had never""Reard of the true God.
 
 38 The btory of RoLand,. 
 
 It is said, that, a little while before this time, an Eng- 
 lish priest named St. Liebwin had gone alcne into 
 /.the very heart of Saxony for the purpose of carrying 
 the gospel of Christ to that benighted folk. Boldly he 
 stood up before them when they came to worship in 
 their false temples, and, holding the cross in his hands, 
 he upbraided them. 
 
 " What do ye ? " he said. " The gods that ye worship 
 live not, they understand not, they see not. They are 
 the works of your hands. They can help neither you 
 nor themselves. Wherefore, the only true and good 
 God, having pity on you, has sent me unto you to warn 
 you of the trouble which shall come upon you unless ye 
 put away your false gods. A prince, wise, strong, and 
 unsleeping, shall come among you, and he shall fall upon 
 you like a torrent. At one rush he shall invade your 
 country ; and he shall lay it waste with fire and sword, 
 and spare none." 
 
 Great was the anger of the Pagan-folk when they 
 heard this bold speech of St. Liebwin. Some threa- 
 tened to tear him to pieces in front of their temples : 
 others ran in haste to the woods, and began to cut 
 sharpened stakes with which to slay him. But one, 
 more wise than the rest, a chief named Buto, stood up 
 before them, and cried out, " Do not act rashly in this 
 matter ! It is against our laws, and contrary to our 
 custom, to mistreat or abuse ambassadors. We have 
 always received them kindly, hearkened to their mes- 
 sages, and sent them away with presents. Here is an
 
 7*he War with t/ie Saxofts. 39 
 
 ambassador from a great God; and should we slay 
 him ? " 
 
 The words of the chief softened the anger of the 
 Saxons, and they allowed St. Liebwin to return un- 
 harmed across the Rhine. But they still clung to their 
 false gods, and thought no more of his warning until 
 after Charlemagne had overrun their country, and car- 
 ried dire distress among them. 
 
 Among the places which fell into the hands of the 
 French was the stronghold of Ehresburg, near which 
 was a temple of the Saxons, a spacious building, wide 
 and high, and ornamented with thousands of trophies 
 taken in battle. In the midst of this temple stood a 
 marble column on which was the figure of an armed 
 warrior holding in one hand a banner, and in the other 
 a balance. On the breastplate of the figure was en- 
 graven a bear ; and on the shield which hung from his 
 shoulders was painted a lion in a field full of flowers. 
 This figure was the idol known in history as Irmin, and 
 was the image of the war-god of the Saxons. Charle- 
 magne caused the temple of Irmin to be torn down and 
 destroyed, and he buried the idol and its column deep 
 in the earth. But so great was the building, and so 
 large was the image, that the whole army was employed 
 three days in their destruction. 
 
 By this time midsummer had come. The sun shone 
 hot and fierce in a cloudless sky. There had been no 
 rain since the early spring, and the ground was parched 
 and dry. There was no wa^er in the brooks ; the
 
 40 The Story of Roland. 
 
 springs ceased flowing; and ere long the river itself 
 became dry. The leaves of the trees withered for want 
 of moisture ; the grain would not ripen in the fields ; 
 the meadows and pastures were burned up with the heat 
 and the long drought. Warriors who had never turned 
 their backs upon a foe trembled now at the thought of 
 death from thirst and starvation. Horrible indeed was 
 the fate which threatened the French army, and Char- 
 lemagne ordered a quick retreat towards the river 
 Rhine. Yet both men and horses were weak with fast- 
 ing, and exhausted by the oppressive heat ; and the 
 march was slow and painful. They reached the dry 
 bed of an unknown stream, and could go no farther. 
 The soldiers groped among the rocks, and tried in vain 
 to find some trace of moisture in the sand. Every 
 mind was burdened with despair. Not one among the 
 knights but that would have given his richest fief for a 
 drink of cold water. 
 
 All at once a storm-cloud was seen in the south. 
 Rapidly it rose higher and higher above the horizon. 
 The lightnings flashed ; the roar of distant falling rain 
 was heard. A great hoarse shout went up from the 
 parched throats of ten thousand warriors. They were 
 saved. Soon the bed of the river was filled with a tor- 
 rent of rushing, foaming water ; and men and beasts 
 hastened to quench their thirst. And good Archbishop 
 Turpin, taking the crucifix in his hand, stood up before 
 the host, and thanked Heaven for this timely deliver- 
 ance. And all joined in solemnly singing praises to
 
 The War with the Saxons. 41 
 
 God ; and all devoutly believed that they had been thus 
 blessed because they had overthrown the idol of Iraiin, 
 and destroyed his temple. The very same day the Sax- 
 ons sent to Charlemagne begging for peace, and offer- 
 ing to do him homage, and pay him tribute. And the 
 king took hostages from them from among the noblest 
 families in the land, and then recrossed the Rhine into 
 his own country. 1 
 
 1 See Note 4 at the end of this volume
 
 42 The Story of Roland. 
 
 ADVENTURE IV. 
 
 THE KNIGHT OF THE SWAN. 
 
 ONE day Roland stood at the window of a castle over 
 looking the Rhine, while Charlemagne and Duke Namon 
 sat on the balcony outside, enjoying the pleasant breeze 
 that was wafted to them from the not far-distant sea. 
 All at once the clear-ringing sound of a bell reached 
 their ears. At first it seemed far away ; but it came 
 slowly nearer and nearer, until the whole air seemed 
 filled with the sweet, simple music. By this time all 
 eyes in the castle were turned in the direction whence 
 the sounds seemed to come. The windows and doors, 
 the battlements and the towers, were crowded with 
 knights and ladies, squires, pages, and menials, all 
 charmed by the sweet tones, and all anxious to know by 
 what strange power they were produced. 
 
 " What seest thou down the river ? " asked the king 
 of the watchman on the tower. 
 
 " My lord," answered the watchman, " I see nothing 
 save the waving of the reeds in the wind, and the long 
 ripple of the waves on the shelving banks." 
 
 Still louder and clearer rang the bell ; still nearer and
 
 The Knight of the Swan. 43 
 
 nearer it seemed to come. All Nature appeared to be 
 listening. 
 
 "Watchman," cried the king again, "seest thou yet 
 any thing ? " 
 
 "I see," answered the watchman, "a mist, like a little 
 silver cloud, resting upon the water, and coming slowly 
 toward us. But I cannot distinguish aught else." 
 
 Sweeter and sweeter grew the sounds, like the music 
 of angel voices in the air. The hearts of the listeners 
 stood still ; they held their breath ; they feared to break 
 the wondrous spell. 
 
 "Watchman," cried the king, "what seest thou 
 now ? " 
 
 " My lord," answered now the watchman, " I see a 
 white swan floating on the water ; and on its neck there 
 is a crown of gold ; and behind it is a silver boat made 
 like the shell of a scallop, which it draws by a silken 
 cord ; and in the scallop sits a knight in full armor. 
 But the device on his shield is a strange one, and I can- 
 not tell from what land he comes. In the bow of the 
 boat hangs a little bell ; but I know not whether the 
 sound which so ravishes our ears is made by its ringing, 
 or whether it is the song of the swan." 
 
 And now the swan and the strange little boat were 
 plainly seen by all the inmates of the castle. Slowly 
 they drew nearer and nearer to the quay. At last the 
 boat came alongside of the landing-place, and stopped. 
 The music, too, ceased as soon as the swan left off- row- 
 ing. Then certain of the king's men stepped down to
 
 44 The Story of Roland. 
 
 the water-side ; and one whose name was Nibelung, and 
 who had come from the unknown North-land, gave the 
 stranger his hand, and helped him from the scallop. 
 And the swan turned about, and swam away in the 
 direction whence he had come, drawing the empty shell- 
 boat behind him. And the strange, sweet music, which 
 began again as soon as the swan commenced rowing, 
 grew fainter and still more faint, until at last it died 
 away in the far distance, and was never heard again. 
 
 The strange knight, who was ever afterward known 
 as the Knight of the Swan, was led into the presence 
 of the king. But he spoke not a word to any one ; and 
 although he seemed right nobly bred, and courteous, 
 it was soon plain to all that he was quite dumb. Before 
 'the king there stood warriors from every land, French- 
 men, Italians, Greeks, Persians, Goths, Saxons, and 
 Danes ; and he commanded each of these to speak in 
 his own tongue to the stranger. But the Knight of the 
 Swan answered not a word, nor seemed to understand 
 what they said to him. Then Roland saw that a blue 
 ribbon was tied around the stranger's neck, and that to 
 it was fastened a small roll of parchment. 
 
 " My lord," said he to the king, " perhaps this roll will 
 tell who he is, and why he comes in this strange manner 
 to you." 
 
 " Take the parchment," said the king, " and see if 
 any thing is written thereon." 
 
 And Roland unloosed the ribbon from the stranger's 
 neck, and opened the roll, and read these words : " MY
 
 The Knight of the Swan. 45 
 
 NAME is GERARD SWAN, OF THE RACE OF LOHENGRIN. 
 
 I SEEK A HOME WITH YOU, AND A WIFE, AND A FIEF 
 OF LANDS." 
 
 " Right welcome are you, Sir Gerard of the Swan ! " 
 said the king, taking his hand. " You shall have all 
 for which you have come, and much more." 
 
 Then Nibelung, by the king's command, unarmed the 
 knight, and carried his sword and shield and rich armor 
 to the guard-room. And the clothing which the stranger 
 wore beneath his armor was of the most princely kind, 
 of purple velvet embroidered with gold. And he had 
 upon his hand a ring of curious workmanship, in which 
 was set a cross that glittered like the rays of the sun. 
 And the king took off his own mantle of crimson silk 
 and rich ermine, and threw it over the knight's shoulders. 
 
 And a banquet was held that day in token of rejoi- 
 cing for the victories so lately won ; and the Knight of 
 the Swan sat at the right hand of the king. 
 
 "Why does my uncle show so great honor to a 
 stranger ? " asked Roland afterward. 
 
 "He is a godsend," said Duke Namon. "Wherever 
 he is, there will Heaven's favor be ; and whatever cause 
 he may espouse, it will prosper." 
 
 "He looks, indeed, like a strong-hearted knight," 
 thought Roland. ' 
 
 Not many days after this, Charlemagne and his war- 
 riors returned to Aix. And the Knight of the Swan 
 proved himself to be in all things upright and trust-
 
 46 The Story of Roland. 
 
 worthy. He soon learned to talk ; and, next to Duke 
 Namon, he was long looked up to as the ablest of the 
 king's advisers. And so highly did Charlemagne esteem 
 him, that he gave him his sister, the Princess Adalis, in 
 marriage, and made him Duke of Ardennes. But no 
 man durst ever ask him whence he came, or to what 
 race he belonged. 1 
 
 1 See Note 5 at the end of this volume.
 
 Ogier the Dane. 47 
 
 ADVENTURE V. 
 
 OGIER THE DANE. 
 
 ON the day that Roland was fourteen years old, he <- 
 was allowed to lay aside his page's dress, and don the 
 garb of a squire. Very proud was he of this new honor, 
 and faithfully did he try to merit it. He was now no 
 longer a boy, whose chief duties were to serve the ladies 
 of the household, and to wait on his master at table. 
 He was regarded as a youth perfecting himself in the 
 use of arms, and making himself ready for the active 
 business of knighthood. He learned now to handle all : 
 kinds of weapons, and very expert did he become in 
 the use of the sword and the heavy lance. He prac- 
 tised himself in every manly art, and learned to endure 
 every sort of hardship. And there was no one in 
 Charlemagne's court, nor, indeed, in all France, who 
 could excel him in the feats of skill and strength 
 in which the young men of those days prided them- 
 selves. 
 
 About this time there came to dwell in the house- 
 hold of Duke Namon a youth, some three years older 
 than Roland, named Ogier. He was a Dane, and had
 
 48 The Story of Roland. 
 
 come to France as a hostage. Very tall he was, and 
 straight as a mountain pine ; and men said that a hand- 
 somer youth had never been seen. His father was God- 
 frey, king of Denmark, known everywhere as one of the 
 bravest and most daring of the Northmen : he lived in 
 a strong-built castle on the shore of the sea, and had 
 long boasted that he acknowledged no man as his peer, 
 not even the mighty Charlemagne of France. Many 
 years had Godfrey ruled over the rude and danger-loving 
 people of Denmark ; and the swift-sailing dragon-ships 
 of the jarls and vikings who owned him as their master 
 were known and feared in every sea and on every coast, 
 from Jutland to Cornwall and Finisterre. And it was 
 whispered that the Danish king had even hoped to rival 
 Charlemagne in power, and that he had dreamed of 
 making himself, some day, the master of all Europe. 
 
 And this is the story that men tell of the childhood 
 of Ogier. When he was but a babe in his mother's 
 arms, there was heard one day, in his father's castle, the 
 sweetest music that mortals ever listened to. Nobody 
 knew whence the bewitching sounds came ; for they 
 seemed to be now here, now there : yet every one was 
 charmed with the delightful melody, and declared that 
 only angels could make music so heavenly. Then sud- 
 enly there came into the chamber where Ogier lay six 
 fairies, whose beauty was so wonderful and awful, that 
 none but a babe might gaze upon them without fear. 
 And each of the lovely creatures bore in her hands a 
 garland of the rarest flowers, and rich gifts of gold and
 
 Ogier the Dane. 49 
 
 gems. And the first fairy took the child in her arms, 
 and kissed him, and said, 
 
 " Better than kingly crown, or lands, or rich heritage, 
 fair babe, I give thee a brave, strong heart. Be fearless 
 as the eagle, and bold as the lion ; be the bravest 
 knight among men." 
 
 Then the second fairy took the child, and dandled 
 him fondly on her knees, and looked long and lovingly 
 into his clear gray eyes. 
 
 "What is genius without opportunity?" said she. 
 " What is 3 brave heart without the ability to do brave 
 deeds ? I give to thee many an opportunity for manly 
 action." 
 
 The third fairy laid the dimpled hands of the babe 
 in her own white palm, and stroked softly his golden 
 hair. 
 
 " Strong-hearted boy, for whom so many noble deeds 
 are waiting, I, too, will give thee a boon. My gift is 
 skill and strength such as shall never fail thee in fight, 
 nor allow thee to be beaten by a foe. Success to thee, 
 fair Ogier ! " 
 
 The fourth fairy touched tenderly the mouth and the 
 eyes and the noble brow of the babe. 
 
 "Be fair of speech," said she, "be noble in action, 
 be courteous, be kind : these are the gifts I bring 
 thee. For what will a strong heart, or a bold under- 
 taking, or success in every enterprise, avail, unless one 
 has the respect and the love of one's fellow-men ? " 
 
 Then the fifth fairy came forward, and clasped Ogier
 
 50 The Story of Roland. 
 
 in her arras, and held him a long time quietly, without 
 speaking a word. At last she said, 
 
 "The gifts which my sisters have given thee will 
 scarcely bring thee happiness ; for, while they add to thy 
 honor, they may make thee dangerous to others. They 
 may lead thee into the practice of selfishness, and base 
 acts of tyranny. That man is little to be envied who 
 loves not his fellow-men. The boon, therefore, that I 
 bring thee is the power and the will to esteem others as 
 frail mortals equally deserving with thyself." 
 
 And then the sixth fairy, the youngest and the most 
 beautiful of all, who was none other than Morgan le 
 Fay, the Queen of Avalon, caught up the child, and 
 danced about the room in rapturous joy. And, in tones 
 more musical than mortals often hear, she sung a sweet 
 lullaby, a song of fairy-land and of the island vale of 
 Avalon, where the souls of heroes dwell. 
 
 And, when she had finished singing, Morgan le Fay 
 crowned the babe with a wreath of laurel and gold, and 
 lighted a fairy torch that she held in her hand. " This 
 torch," said she, "is the measure of thy earthly days; 
 and it shall not cease to burn until thou hast visited me 
 in Avalon, and sat at table with King Arthur and the 
 heroes who dwell there in that eternal summer-land." 
 
 And the fairies gave the babe gently back into his 
 mother's arms, and they strewed the floor of the cham- 
 ber with many a rich gem and lovely flower; and the 
 odor of roses and the sweetest perfumes filled the air, 
 and the music of angels' voices was heard above ; and
 
 Ogier the Dane. 5 1 
 
 the fairies vanished in a burst of sunbeams, and were 
 seen no more. And when the queen's maidens came 
 soon afterward into the chamber, they found the child 
 smiling in his mother's arms. But she was cold and 
 lifeless : her spirit had flown away to fairy-land. 
 
 And Ogier, though left thus motherless, was carefull)i 
 tended and reared, and became, not only the pet of the 
 king's household, but the hope of all Denmark. The 
 wisest men were lured from other lands, and employed 
 as teachers of the young prince ; and he was instructed 
 in all the arts, and in all the learning, of the times. 
 And he grew to be a strong and handsome youth, tall 
 and comely, and skilful in every manly exercise. No 
 knight in all his father's domains could ride so well as 
 he ; none could wield the sword with greater skill, or 
 handle the lance more easily ; and no one was more 
 courteous, more kind to his friends, more terrible to his 
 foes, than Ogier. And the Danes looked forward with 
 secret pleasure to the time when he should become their 
 king. But he had scarcely passed the years of a page, 
 and been made a squire in his father's household, when 
 there came a great change to him, and his life's outlook 
 was sadly altered. His father had married a scheming, 
 heartless woman, who hated Ogier, and who sought to 
 drive him away from Denmark in order that her own 
 son, Guyon, might be the heir to the kingdom. And she 
 daily poisoned the king's mind by persuading him that 
 Ugier was plotting against him, and planning to seize
 
 52 The Story of Roland. 
 
 his kingdom. And King Godfrey, when he saw with 
 what favor the people looked upon his son, grew strange- 
 ly jealous and cold, and treated him harshly and oft- 
 times cruelly. But Ogier, nothing daunted by ill fortune, 
 or by the frowns of his father, or by the taunts of his 
 evil-minded step-mother, held on his way, and allowed 
 neither malice nor despair to interfere with his happi- 
 ness, or to make him forgetful of his duties. 
 
 At about the time when Ogier was sixteen years old, 
 the news first came to Charlemagne of the greatness of 
 the Danish king, and of his project to set up a rival 
 kingdom in the North. And he vowed that the Danes 
 too, as all the neighboring nations had already done, 
 should acknowledge him their sovereign lord, and pay 
 him tribute. He sent, therefore, an embassy of a hun- 
 dred knights, under Ganelon of Mayence, to demand of 
 King Godfrey a promise of homage and fealty, as the 
 holder of a fief from France. King Godfrey received 
 the messengers kindly, and entertained them in the 
 most kingly manner for seven days. And, when they 
 had told him their errand, he led them through the dif- 
 ferent apartments of his strong castle, and showed them 
 the well-built walls, and the variety of weapons, and the 
 great store of provisions, that he had laid in, in readi- 
 ness against a siege. And he said, " Tell Charlemagne 
 that there are a hundred such castles in Denmark, and 
 that not one has ever been surprised or taken by a 
 foe." 
 
 Then he caused to pass before them the flower of his
 
 Ogier the Dane. 53 
 
 army, ten thousand knights, clad in complete armor, 
 and mounted on matchless steeds of war. 
 
 "Tell Charlemagne," said he, "that what you have 
 seen is but a small part of my strength, and that, if he 
 wishes to fight for the mastership, I am ready to meet 
 him." 
 
 "On what conditions?" asked Ganelon. "You would 
 best make them liberal, for Charlemagne seldom grants, 
 and never asks terms." 
 
 "On these conditions," answered the king, "that 
 the vanquished shall embrace the religion of the victor, 
 and become his vassal." 
 
 " It is well," said Ganelon. " I will carry your 
 answer to Charlemagne." 
 
 Then the king gave rich presents to the messengers, 
 and sent them back again into their own country. 
 
 When Charlemagne heard the boastful message that 
 was brought to him by Ganelon, he at once called to- 
 gether an army of fifty thousand men, and marched 
 northward to chastise the audacious Dane. A great 
 battle was fought, and King Godfrey was terribly de- 
 feated. The ten thousand knights, of whose bravery 
 he had boasted, were found to be no match for the 
 better trained and more skilful warriors of France. 
 The Eanish army was routed, and the king himself 
 was taken prisoner. 
 
 " What now sayest thou about the mastership ?" asked 
 Charlemagne in great anger. "What now wilt thou 
 give for thy life?"
 
 54 The Story of Roland. 
 
 " I will abide by the conditions on which I at first 
 offered to fight you," answered Godfrey. "I will be- 
 come a Christian, and be your vassal ; and, if I may 
 hold the fief of Denmark, I will pay you a yearly tribute 
 of whatever sum you may demand." 
 
 And Charlemagne, who was ever lenient to a fallen 
 foe, willingly made peace with the Danish king, and, 
 after he had been baptized, made him Duke of Denmark. 
 But he asked, that, in proof of his sincerity, Godfrey 
 
 --"should give up as hostages four of the noblest youths 
 about his court. This the humbled Dane agreed to do ; 
 
 i-- and by the advice of his wife he gave his own son, 
 the matchless Ogier, as one of the four. And not long 
 after this, Charlemagne and his host returned home. 
 
 It chanced that Duke Namon of Bavaria saw the 
 Danish prince, and was much pleased with his open 
 countenance, his noble form, and his courtly manner ; 
 and he hastened to get leave of the king to have the 
 young man in his own household, not as an underling or 
 a servant, but as a worthy and honored squire. And it 
 was thus that Ogier and Roland came to dwell beneath the 
 same roof. And their friendship waxed daily stronger 
 and stronger, until in the end they exchanged tokens, 
 and pledged each other as brothers-in-arms. Neverthe- 
 less, Roland still remembered Oliver with the same 
 brotherly love as of yore, and allowed not his affection 
 for Ogier to make him forget his earlier vows of brother- 
 hood. 
 
 Ogier grew daily stronger and more handsome, and
 
 Ogier the Dane. 55 
 
 more skilful in every feat of arms, and more graceful 
 in every deed of courtesy. And none of the youths 
 about the French court, not even Roland, could equal 
 him in the games wherein their strength and endurance 
 were tried. But as months and months went by, and 
 his father allowed him still to be held as a hostage and 
 a prisoner in a strange land, his heart sometimes burned 
 with impatience, or sometimes grew sad with a weary 
 longing for freedom. 
 
 In the mean while, Duke Godfrey, the father of Ogier, 
 was too busy plotting treason against his liege-lord 
 Charlemagne to have much thought for his son ; and 
 indeed, so great was his feeling of jealousy toward 
 Ogier, that he had no wish to have him ever return to 
 Denmark. His wife was very anxious that the Danish 
 crown might be left to her own son, Guyon ; and she at 
 length persuaded her husband to withhold from Char- 
 lemagne the tribute which had been promised ; for she 
 hoped that the French king would become so angered 
 by this neglect that he would put the hostages to death. 
 
 And now four years had passed, and Charlemagne 
 had not received a penny of tribute from Godfrey ; nor 
 had the Danish duke come once to his court to do him 
 homage, as he had agreed. Often had the king threat- 
 ened to punish the Dane for his neglect. But his wars 
 in Italy and with the Saracens had claimed all his time, 
 and the affairs of Denmark were allowed to rest with- 
 out much attention. And Godfrey went on strength- 
 ening his castles, and building a fleet, and training his
 
 56 The Story of Roland. 
 
 fighting-men ; and he persuaded himself that he would 
 yet outwit and get the better of the king. But one day 
 Charlemagne, as he sat at table with his peers around 
 him, chanced to remember the slighted tribute, and the 
 homage so long due him from Duke Godfrey. 
 
 "While all my enemies are humbled in the dust," 
 said he, " this Dane is the only man who dares neglect 
 his duty. He shall be reminded at once of his broken 
 promises^ and of the debt which he owes us." 
 
 And he immediately despatched an embassy of four 
 trustworthy knights, with a retinue of squires and servi- 
 tors, to the court of Denmark to demand that the trib- 
 ute so long overdue should be paid without further 
 delay.
 
 How the Army crossed the Alps. 57 
 
 ADVENTURE VI. 
 
 HOW THE ARMY CROSSED THE ALPS. 
 
 IT was near the time of the solemn festival of Easter, 
 the time when Nature seems to rise from the grave, 
 ancTlhe Earth puts on anewjiftr gar^_of youth and 
 beauty. King Charlemagne was at St. Omer ; for there 
 the good Archbishop Turpin was making ready to cele- 
 brate the great feast with more than ordinary grandeur. 
 Thither, too, had gone the members of the king's house- 
 hold, and a great number of lords and ladies, the noblest 
 in France. There were the queen, the fair Fastrada, 
 and Charlemagne's two sons Chariot and Louis, and 
 his sisters Bertha and Alice, and his daughters Belis- 
 sent and Emma. 1 And there also were many of the 
 peers of the realm, Duke Namon, and Ganelon, and 
 Malagis the wizard, and Alcuin the English school- 
 master, and Gerineldo the king's scribe, and Roland, 
 and Cgier the Dane. And with many fond anticipa- 
 tions all awaited the coming of the festal day, and the 
 new season of active duty and labor which it would 
 usher in. 
 
 1 See Note 6 at the end of this volume.
 
 58 The Story of Roland. 
 
 But there came fleet messengers to St. Omer, bearing 
 to Charlemagne news as unlooked-for as it was disagree- 
 able. The ambassadors whom he had sent last autumn 
 to claim the homage and the tribute due from Duke 
 Godfrey of Denmark had come home with shaved faces 
 and tonsured heads. Barely had they escaped with their 
 lives from the traitorous Dane. And they had brought 
 this word from Godfrey. " Tell your king," said he, 
 " that the lord of Denmark is no man's thrall, and that 
 never will he do homage, or pay aught of tribute, to any 
 foreign tyrant." 
 
 Great was the wrath of Charlemagne, and he declared 
 at once that Ogier the Dane, and his three comrades, 
 should be put to death ; for, according to the terms 
 made with Godfrey, the young men were now for-hos- 
 taged, and their lives were justly forfeited. And in spite 
 of the sage advice of Duke Namon, and the prayers of 
 the queen herself, the king caused the four hostages to 
 be thrown into the dungeon of St. Omer ; and he threa- 
 tened, that, as soon as Eastertide was past, they should 
 be brought out, and hanged in the sight of all the people. 
 Then word was sent to Paris and to Aix, and to all the 
 chiefs and lords in France, calling every one who was 
 able to bear arms to rally around the king's standard, 
 and be ready on a moment's notice to move against the 
 traitorous Duke of Denmark. And when, at length, 
 Easter-morning broke, and the sun rose clear and bright 
 in a cloudless sky, its rays fell upon the armor and 
 banners of a mighty host encamped at St. Omer, and
 
 How the Army crossed the Alps. 59 
 
 expecting on the morrow to begin the march to the 
 North. 
 
 But a new surprise awaited Charlemagne. Scarcely 
 had the good archbishop pronounced a blessing upon 
 the devout multitude assembled at the Easter service, 
 when two messengers came in hot haste, and demanded 
 to speak with the king. They had come from Rome, 
 and they bore letters from Pope Leo. Sad was the news 
 which these letters brought, but it was news which 
 would fire the heart of every Christian knight. The 
 Saracens had landed in Italy, and had taken Rome by 
 assault. " The pope and the cardinals and the legates 
 have fled," said the letters; "the churches are torn 
 down ; the holy relics are lost ; and the Christians are 
 put to the sword. Wherefore the Holy Father charges 
 you as a Christian king to march at once to the help of 
 the Church." 
 
 It needed no word of Charlemagne to arouse the ardor 
 of his warriors. Every other undertaking must be laid 
 aside, so long as Rome and the Church were in danger. 
 The design of marching against the Danes was given 
 up for a time ; and the heralds proclaimed that on the 
 morrow, at break of day, the army, instead of advancing 
 northward, would move southward toward Italy. 
 
 " What shall we do with Ogier and the other Danish 
 hostages ? " asked Ganelon, smiling, and hoping that 
 the king would carry out his threats, and have the 
 young men put to death. 
 
 " It is no fit time to deal with them now," answered
 
 60 The Story of Roland. 
 
 t 
 
 the king. "Let the three who are of lower rank lie 
 in prison where they are. But as for Ogier, the prince, 
 do you take charge of him, and bring him with you to 
 Rome. See that he does not escape ; and, when we 
 have driven the Pagans out of the city, we shall have 
 him hanged as a traitor in the sight of the whole host." 
 
 The morning after Easter dawned, and the great 
 army waited for the signal to march. The bugles 
 sounded, and the long line of steel-clad knights and 
 warriors began to move. Charlemagne rode in the 
 front ranks, ready, like a true knight, to brave every 
 difficulty, and to be the first in every post of danger. 
 Never did a better king wear spur. Roland, as was his 
 wont on such occasions, rode by the side of Duke 
 Namon, carrying that knight's shield and the heavier 
 parts of his armor; and, as became a trusty squire, he 
 thought not of his own pleasure, but of the comfort of 
 him whom he served. Nor did he consider his own 
 safety or his own honor to be matters of concern, so 
 long as Duke Namon was his lord. But Ogier the Dane 
 rode in the rear of the host, with Ganelon's squires ; and, 
 being a prisoner, he was not allowed to carry any arms, 
 or to move out of sight of the young men who guarded 
 him. 
 
 Great was the haste with which the army moved, and 
 very impatient were the warriors ; for the whole of 
 France lay between them and fair Italy, and they knew 
 that weeks of weary marching must be endured, ere 
 they could meet their Pagan foe in battle, and drive him
 
 How the Army crossed the Alps. 6 1 
 
 out of the Christians' land. Many days they rode among 
 the rich fields, and between the blooming orchards, of 
 the Seine valley ; many days they toiled over unbroken 
 forest-roads, and among marshes and bogs, and across 
 untrodden moorlands. jhey climbed steep hills, and 
 swam broad rivers, and endured the rain and the wind, 
 and the fierce heat of the noonday sun, and sometimes 
 even the pangs of hunger and thirst. But they carried 
 brave hearts within them;] and they comforted them- 
 selves with the thought that all their suffering was for 
 the glory of God and the honor of the king, for their 
 country's safety and the security of their homes. And 
 every day, as they advanced, the army increased in 
 numbers and in strength : for the news had been 
 carried all over the land, that the Saracens had taken 
 Rome, and that Charlemagne with his host was hasten- 
 ing to the rescue ; and knights and noblemen from every 
 city and town and countryside came to join his stand- 
 ard, sometimes alone and singly, and sometimes with a 
 great retinue of fighting-men and servitors. And when 
 at last they had passed the boundaries of France, and 
 only the great mountains lay between them and Italy, 
 Charlemagne could look behind him, and see an army 
 of a hundred thousand men. And now messengers 
 came to him again, urging him to hasten with all speed 
 to the succor of the pope. 
 
 But the Alps Mountains lifted themselves up in his 
 pathway, and their snowy crags frowned threateningly 
 upon him ; their steep, rocky sides arose like walls be
 
 62 The Story of Roland. 
 
 fore him, and seemed to forbid his going farther ; and 
 there appeared to be no way of reaching Italy, save bj 
 a long and circuitous route through the southern passes. 
 In the hope that he might find some shorter and easici 
 passage, Charlemagne now sent out scouts and moun 
 taineers to explore every valley and gorge, and every 
 seeming mountain pass. But all came back with the 
 same story : there was not even so much as a path up 
 which the mountain goats could clamber, much less a 
 road broad enough for a'l army with horses and baggage 
 to traverse. The king was in despair, and he called 
 together his counsellors and wise men to consider what 
 should be done. Duke Namon urged that they should 
 march around by way of the southern passes ; for, 
 although a full month would thus be lost, yet there 
 was no other safe and well-known land-route to Italy. 
 Ganelon advised that they should turn back, and, 
 marching to Marseilles, embark from thence on ships, 
 and undertake to xeach Rome by way of the sea. 
 
 Then the dwarf Malagis came before Charlemagne, 
 bearing in his hand a book, from which he read many 
 spells and weird enchantments. Upon the ground he 
 drew with his wand a magic ring, and he laid therein 
 the hammer of Thor and the sword of Mahmet. Then, 
 in a loud, commanding voice, he called upon the sprites, 
 the trolls, and the goblins, with whom he was familiar, 
 to come at once into his presence. And the lightning 
 flashed, and the thunder rolled, and smoke and fire burst 
 forth from the mountain peaks, and the rocks and great
 
 How the Army crossed the Alps. 63 
 
 ice-fields were loosened among the crags, and came 
 tumbling down into the valley. And dwarfs and elves, 
 and many an uncanny thing, danced and shouted in the 
 mountain caves ; and grinning ogres peeped out from 
 the deep clefts and gorges; and the very air seemed 
 full of ghostlike creatures. Then the wizard called by 
 name a wise but wicked goblin, known among the 
 Saracens as Ashtaroth ; and the goblin came at once, 
 riding in a whirlwind, and very angry because he was 
 obliged to obey. 
 
 "Tell me now," said Malagis, "and tell me truly, 
 whether there is here so much as a pathway by which 
 Charlemagne may lead his army through the moun- 
 tains." 
 
 The goblin was silent for a moment ; and a dark cloud 
 rested upon his face, and his look was terrible. But 
 the wizard, in no wise daunted, returned his glance, 
 and in the tones of a master bade him clear up that 
 clouded look, and answer the question he had asked. 
 Then Ashtaroth curbed his anger, and spoke. 
 
 " On what errand would the French king cross the 
 Alps ? '' he asked. " Seeks he not to harm my friends 
 the Saracens ? " 
 
 "That is, indeed, his errand," answered Malagis. 
 
 " Then, why should I do aught to help him ? " asked 
 the goblin. " Why do you call me from my rest, and 
 bid me betray my friends ? " 
 
 "That is not for thee to ask," said Malagis. "I 
 have called thee as a master calls his slave. Tell me
 
 64 The Story of Roland. 
 
 now, and tell me truly, is there here any pass across 
 the mountains into Italy ? " 
 
 " There is such a pass," answered the goblin gravely ; 
 " but it is hidden to eyes like mine. I cannot guide you 
 to it, nor can any of my kind show you how to find it. 
 It is a pathway which only the pure can tread." 
 
 "Tell me one thing more," said Malagis. "Tell me 
 one thing, and I will let thee go. How prosper thy 
 friends the Saracens at Rome?" 
 
 "They have taken all but the Capitol," was the 
 answer. " They have slain many Christians, and burned 
 many buildings. The pope and the cardinals have fled 
 to Spoleto. If Charlemagne reach not Italy within a 
 month, ill will it fare with his friends." 
 
 Then Malagis, satisfied with what he had heard, un- 
 wound the spell of his enchantments ; and amid a cloud 
 of fire and smoke the goblin flew back again into the 
 mountains. 
 
 And now the good Turpin came forward, with a cro- 
 sier in his hand, and a bishop's mitre on his head, and 
 a long white robe thrown over his shoulders, scarcely 
 hiding the steel armor which he wore beneath. And 
 he lifted up his eyes to heaven, and prayed. And the 
 sound of his voice arose among the cliffs, and resounded 
 among the rocks, and was echoed from valley to valley, 
 and re-echoed among the peaks and crags, and carried 
 over the mountain tops, even to the blue sky above. 
 And the king and those who stood about him fancied 
 Miat they heard sweet strains of music issuing from the
 
 THE WHITE STAG.
 
 How the Army crossed the Alps. 65 
 
 mountain caves ; and the most bewitching sounds arose 
 among the rocks and gorges ; and the air was rilled with 
 a heavenly perfume and the songs of singing-birds ; and 
 a holy calm settled over mountain and valley, and fell 
 like a blessing upon the earth. Then the Alps no longer 
 seemed obstacles in their way. The steep cliffs, which 
 had been like mighty walls barring their progress, seemed 
 now mere gentle slopes, rising little by little toward 
 heaven, and affording a pleasant and easy highway to 
 the fair fields of Italy beyond. 
 
 While Charlemagne and his peers gazed in rapt de- 
 light upon this vision, there came down from the moun- 
 tain crags a beautiful creature such as none of them 
 had ever before seen. It was a noble stag, white as 
 the drifted snow, his head crowned with wide-branching 
 antlers, from every point of which bright sunbeams 
 seemed to flash. 
 
 "Behold our leader and our hope!" cried Turpin. 
 " Behold the sure-footed guide which the Wonder-king 
 has sent to lead us through narrow ways, and over dan- 
 gerous steeps, to the smiling valleys and fields of Italy ! 
 Be only strong and trustful and believing, and a safe 
 way shall open for us, even where there seemed to be 
 no way." 
 
 Then the vision faded slowly away from the sight of 
 the peers ; and the mountain walls rose up before them 
 as grim and steep as ever ; and the snow-crowned crags 
 looked down upon them even more angrily than before, 
 and there seemed no road nor pathway which the foot
 
 66 The Story of Roland. 
 
 of man could follow. But the wondrous white stag, 
 which had filled their minds with a new-born hope, still 
 stood in plain sight on the lowermost slopes of the 
 mountain. 
 
 The king, without once taking his eyes from the 
 Heaven-sent creature, mounted his war-steed, and sound- 
 ed the bugle which hung at his girdle ; and the great 
 army, confiding in the wisdom of their leader, began to 
 move. The white stag went first, steadily following 
 a narrow pathway, which led upward by many steep 
 ascents, seemingly to the very clouds ; and behind him 
 rode Charlemagne, keeping ever in view his radiant, 
 hopeful guide, and followed by the long line of knights 
 and warriors, who, cheered by his earnest faith, never 
 once feared the end. Higher and higher they climbed, 
 and more and more difficult became the way. On one 
 side of them arose a steep wall, shutting out from their 
 sight more than half of the sky : on the other side, 
 dark gorges and yawning gulfs descended, threatening 
 to bury the whole army in their bottomless depths. 
 And by and by they came to the region of snow and 
 ice, where the Storm-king holds his court, and reigns in 
 everlasting solitude. And, looking back, they could see 
 sweet France, lying spread out as a map before them, 
 its pleasant fields and its busy towns seeming only as 
 specks in the dim distance. But when they looked 
 forward, hoping there to see a like map of fair Italy, 
 only the rocks and the ice, and the narrow pathway, 
 and the desolate mountain crags, met their sight. And
 
 How the Army crossed the Alps. 67 
 
 they would have become disheartened by the difficulties 
 before them, and have turned back in utter despair, had 
 not the bright form of their guide, and the cheerful 
 countenance of Charlemagne, inspired them with ever- 
 renewed hope. For seven days they toiled among the 
 dangerous steeps ; and on the eighth a glorious vision 
 burst upon their view the smiling plains of Italy lay 
 before them. At this sight a great shout of joy went 
 up from the throats of the toil-worn heroes, and the 
 good archbishop returned thanks to Heaven for their 
 deliverance from peril. And, a few hours later, the 
 whole army emerged into the pleasant valleys of Pied- 
 mont, and encamped not far from Aosta. 
 
 Very wonderful indeed had been this passage over 
 the Alps ; and, what was more wonderful still, not a 
 man, nor a beast, nor any part of the baggage, had 
 been lost. After he had rested and dined, the king 
 called before him his minstrels and jongleurs, and bade 
 them sing their merriest songs, and play their gayest 
 tunes on the harp, the viol, and the guitar. And the 
 heart of the king was softened by the sweet strains of 
 music, and by the feelings of thankfulness which filled 
 his soul ; and he felt no longer any malice toward those 
 who had done him wrong, nor any hatred toward his 
 enemies. Then one among the minstrels, an old man 
 who had been a bard among the Saxons, and who knew 
 all the lore of the North-folk, tuned his harp, and sang 
 a song of the old Pagan days, and of the bold, free life 
 of the Danish sea-kings.
 
 68 The Story of Roland. 
 
 When the minstrel ceased, the king, who had been 
 strangely touched by the lively melody, looked around 
 upon his peers, and asked, 
 
 " Is there not with us a young Danish prince, one 
 Ogier, the son of the rebel Godfrey? Methinks that 
 he, too, can make fine music on the harp." 
 
 "My lord," answered Duke Namon, "the young man, 
 as you doubtless remember, is for-hostaged ; and he is 
 now a prisoner in charge of Duke Ganelon." 
 
 " Let him be brought hither," said the king. 
 
 A few minutes later, Ogier, erect and proud, and as 
 fearless as a young lion, was led into the presence of 
 Charlemagne and the peers ; and by his side walked his 
 brother-in-arms, young Roland. He took the harp from 
 the minstrel's hands ; and, as his fingers swept lightly 
 over the strings, he sang a song that he had learned in 
 his father's court in Denmark. And all who heard him 
 agreed that they had never listened to sweeter music. 
 
 "Young man," said the king, "thou singest well. I 
 would fain reward thee, and hence I grant thee a re- 
 prieve. I give thee thy life until we again return to 
 France." 
 
 Then Roland, as the nephew of the king, boldly 
 begged that he would grant a full pardon to Ogier. 
 But he would not. Never, said he, should feelings of 
 pity turn him aside from the path of justice. Should 
 he spare the life of one person for-hostaged, the value 
 of hostages as pledges of good faith would no longer 
 be regarded. Then Duke Namon asked the king, that,
 
 How the Army crossed the Alps. 69 
 
 as a personal favor, he would allow Ogier to remain 
 with him during the rest of the march : he wished him 
 to care for his nephew, a noble knight who was in his 
 train, and was sick. To this request the king readily 
 assented, and Ogier was re-instated in the service of 
 his former loved master. And Roland and the other 
 squires with Duke Namon, welcomed him most heartily 
 to his old place of honor among them. 
 
 r.OS
 
 70 7 he Story of Roland. 
 
 ADVENTURE VII. 
 
 KNIGHTED ON THE BATTLE-FIELD. 
 
 SCARCELY had the army rested from the fatigues of 
 the march across the Alps, when messengers came the 
 third time from the pope, praying Charlemagne to 
 hasten his coming. "The heathen triumph! The 
 Christians are put to the sword! The Holy Father 
 charges thee as the champion of Christendom to come 
 quickly to his aid ! " At once the camp at Aosta was 
 broken up, and the great host advanced by hasty 
 marches on towards Rome. And Roland, and Ogier 
 the Dane, rode side by side, and lamented that they 
 were not yet armed knights, and could not take any 
 active part in the battle which was soon to be fought. 
 
 " I have not long to live," said Ogier ; " and the heavi- 
 est thought that weighs upon my mind is, that I shall 
 die without having distinguished myself in arms, and 
 without having done aught for the glory of the king, or 
 the honor of knighthood." 
 
 " It shall not be," answered Roland. " You shall not 
 die thus early and thus shamefully. I will again inter- 
 cede with my uncle the king, and I will save you. And
 
 Knighted on the Battle-field. 71 
 
 ere many years we both shall be knights, armed and 
 belted and spurred, brothers-in-arms, and peers of the 
 king, worthy to do our part in battle with the unbeliev- 
 ers, and in all honorable undertakings." 
 
 The French arrived at Sutri. Roland saw with pleas- 
 ure the familiar haunts of his boyhood. He pointed 
 out to Ogier the rocky cleft on the hilltop, where, years 
 before, he had watched for the coming of Charlemagne's 
 host. And, when the old castle came in view, many 
 memories, pleasant and painful, rushed into his mind. 
 Oliver's father, Count Rainier, had long ago removed to 
 Genoa, and the place was now held by strangers ; nor 
 did Roland see a single face in the town that he remem- 
 bered as having known in the days of his childhood. 
 
 A short distance beyond Sutri, they met the Pagan 
 host who had come out of Rome to give them battle. 
 Charlemagne decided to attack them at once. Duke 
 Namon, as the worthiest of the peers, led the vanguard 
 of the French ; but Roland and Ogier staid in the rear 
 with the other squires, much grieving that it was not 
 allowed them to bear arms, and that they could take 
 only the part of lookers-on in this great contest. The 
 golden standard of the king, the sacred Oriflamme, was 
 carried by one Alory, who claimed it as the right of an 
 Italian ; he being a native of Apulia. 
 
 Roland and Ogier climbed a hill in order the better 
 to view the fight. Duke Namon, with the bravest 
 knights of France and their Italian allies, followed the 
 standard to the attack. At the first assault the Pagans
 
 72 The Story of Roland. 
 
 were worsted : they seemed to fall back in confusion, 
 and Duke Namon pressed upon them right valiantly. 
 Then the foe rallied again ; they stood stubbornly ; they 
 rushed savagely upon the bearers of the golden stand- 
 ard. Alory and his cowardly companions from Lom- 
 bardy were frightened : they had not the fearless hearts 
 which are born of Northern blood. They turned, and 
 fled for their lives. Full of joy now were the Pagans 
 to see the Oriflamme in flight : full of shame and bewil- 
 derment were the French. In vain did Duke Namon 
 strive to turn the tide : he was hemmed in by giant foes 
 on every side. He fought manfully, but against such 
 odds, that he was soon taken prisoner. Many other 
 knights, the bravest among the French, were over- 
 powered. Charlemagne himself was hard beset. His 
 lance failed him, he was unhorsed ; and yet most val- 
 iantly did he defend himself. 
 
 Roland and the Dane could no longer hold themselves 
 aloof. They saw Alory and his coward Lombards com- 
 ing up the hill in shameful flight. They called the 
 squires around them, and urged them to rally to the fray 
 like heroes. 
 
 "But how shall we fight without arms ?" asked the 
 faint-hearted. 
 
 " Fight with whatever comes to hand ! " cried Roland. 
 " A sharpened stake wielded by a brave man is better 
 than a lance in the hands of a coward. Let us die here 
 for the king and for France rather than turn our backs 
 to the foe."
 
 Knighted on the Battle-field. 73 
 
 Alory and his Lombards were now very near. 
 
 "Believe me," cried Ogier, "if God have part or 
 parcel in this day's work, these cowards shall take hence 
 neither horse nor arms ! " 
 
 " Shame be on any that shall fail thee ! " answered 
 the squires. 
 
 As Alory rode up, they seized his horse by the bits : 
 they stopped him in his shameful flight. 
 
 " Have you lost the day ? " asked Ogier. 
 
 "Where is the king?" asked Roland. "Where is 
 Duke Namon ? How have you left the French ? " 
 
 " The king is taken," answered Alory. " The infidels 
 hold the field. The French are slain." 
 
 " Thou liest ! " cried the squires. " Had ye not failed 
 in battle, all would have been well." 
 
 Without another word, Ogier felled Alory with a blow 
 of his fist, for arms had he none. The other squires 
 followed his example, and dragged the craven Lombards 
 from their saddles. They despoiled them of their 
 armor, they seized their arms, and mounted their steeds. 
 Ogier took the golden standard in his hands ; the golden 
 cords fluttered around his wrists ; the charger which he 
 bestrode champed the bit, impatient to return to the 
 field. 
 
 " Follow me, ye who are not cowards ! " he cried. 
 
 The squires hastily formed in ranks, ready for the 
 onset. He who could find no lance was content with a 
 sharpened stake, with the splintered branch of an apple- 
 tree or an ash. Very eager was every one for the
 
 74 The Story of Roland. 
 
 fray. They tore their clothing into shreds with which 
 to make pennons : they cared little for shields or war- 
 coats. 
 
 By this time Charlemagne had freed himself from the 
 Pagans who beset him, and had again mounted his war- 
 horse. Only a hundred knights were left with him now : 
 all the others had been slain, or taken prisoners, or had 
 sought safety in flight. But the king would not leave 
 the field. The Pagans were already gloating over their 
 victory. They were thinking of the day when they 
 should see the Christian knights eaten by lions in the 
 arena at Rome : they did not dream of any danger. 
 Suddenly Ogier and Roland and the troop of squires 
 swept down upon them like a whirlwind upon a field 
 of growing corn. Never were Pagan-folk so taken by 
 surprise. Roland attacked the chief who held Duke 
 Namon prisoner : he split his shield in twain, and burst 
 his coat-of-mail asunder. The French knights were all 
 set free. The squires hastily donned the armor of the 
 slain Saracens, and followed in swift pursuit their panic- 
 stricken foes. Never was rout more unexpected or 
 more complete. 
 
 In the mean while Charlemagne, seeing the flight of 
 the enemy, stopped not to learn the cause, but followed 
 recklessly in their wake. His hauberk was broken, and 
 his shield was pierced with many lance-thrusts ; but his 
 good sword Joyeuse was in his hand, a very terror to 
 his foes. He sees Corsuble, the Saracen king, flying 
 over the plain, and, unmindful of danger, he gives pur-
 
 Knighted on the Battle-field. 75 
 
 suit. A moment more, and Corsuble's head will roll in 
 the sand. But no! Two Pagan knights, very giants 
 in stature, rush to the rescue. Charlemagne's horse is 
 slain beneath him, and he himself is stretched helpless 
 upon the ground. And now the Saracens, content with 
 having rescued their own chief, and anxious to save 
 themselves, would have ridden onward, had not the 
 golden eagle on Charlemagne's casque betrayed his rank. 
 They hesitated. It would never do, they thought, to 
 leave the deed but half done. Hastily they dismounted 
 to give the fallen king his death-blow. Never had his 
 life been in so great peril. But Ogier had seen him fall, 
 and he rushed with the speed of a falcon to his aid. 
 The golden standard which the young squire held in his 
 hands hindered him from drawing his sword ; and one 
 would have thought him but a poor match for the two 
 well-armed Saracens. But he came so swiftly, that he 
 was upon them ere they were aware. One of them was 
 ridden down by his horse, and rolled ingloriously in the 
 sand : the other received such a stunning blow with 
 the staff of the Oriflamme, that he fell senseless to the 
 ground. Then Ogier helped the king to disentangle 
 himself from his fallen steed, and saw him safely mounted 
 on the horse of one of the Saracens, 
 
 " Ah, Alory, thou brave knight ! " said Charlemagne, 
 not recognizing the squire in disguise, " I have blamed 
 thee wrongfully. I thought that I saw thee flying dis- 
 gracefully from the field. But I was wrong, and thou 
 shalt be rewarded for thy bravery."
 
 76 The Story of Roland. 
 
 Ogier said not a word, but, giving spurs to his 
 steed, he rode onward in eager pursuit of the flying 
 foe. 
 
 Complete was the defeat of the Saracens : in great 
 haste and fear they retreated to Rome, and left the 
 French the masters of the field. Then Charlemagne 
 blew his bugle, and called around him his peers, and the 
 knights whom the battle had spared. And the good 
 Turpin laid aside his helmet and his sword, and putting 
 his mitre on his head, and holding a crosier in his hand, 
 he sang the solemn " Te Deum Laudamus ;" and all the 
 mighty host joined in praising God. While they were 
 yet singing, Ogier the Dane came humbly forward, and 
 laid the Oriflamme, all torn, and covered with dust, at 
 Charlemagne's feet. And with him came Roland and 
 the other squires, walking awkwardly in their misfit 
 armor ; and all knelt reverently before the king. And 
 Charlemagne spoke kindly to them, and again thanked 
 Ogier for his bravery, again calling him Alory. And 
 the archbishop held his hands above them, and blessed 
 them. Then young Roland, bursting with impatience, 
 threw off his helmet and Ogier's ; and the other squires 
 laid aside their armor. Great was the astonishment of 
 the king and his knights when they learned that the 
 day had been won, and their own lives and honor saved, 
 through the valor of mere squires. And the king fol Jed 
 Ogier in his arms, and thanked Heaven that he had not 
 hanged him last Easter. And Duke Namon, with tears 
 of joy in his eyes, embraced both the young men, and
 
 Knighted on the Battle-field. 77 
 
 called down the choicest blessings on their heads for 
 the honor which they had done him by that day's gal- 
 lant deeds and the signal service which they had ren- 
 dered the cause of Christendom. 
 
 Then, turning to Charlemagne, he asked, " What is 
 to hinder, my lord, from investing these young men 
 with the honors of knighthood ? " 
 
 " They richly deserve it," answered the king. " Let 
 us make ready at once for the ceremonies. Such valor 
 must not long be unrewarded." 
 
 Great was the rejoicing now among the French ; for 
 all the knights knew Roland and Ogier, and loved them. 
 Only two Ganelon of Mayence, and Chariot the son 
 of the king, their hearts burning with jealousy and un- 
 reasoning hate stood aside, and would not join in the 
 general gratulations. When every thing was in readi- 
 ness, the young men again knelt before the king. The 
 good archbishop, after a solemn service, spoke briefly 
 of the duties of the knight, and warned them of the 
 difficulties and temptations in their way. Then, taking 
 the swords which had been prepared for them, he 
 blessed them, and laid them upon the rude altar -which 
 had been hastily built for the occasion. When this had 
 been done, the king stepped forward, sword in hand, 
 and, smiting each of them three times upon the shoul- 
 der, he said, " In the name of God and St. Michael I 
 dub thee knight: be valiant, loyal, and true!" Then 
 the peers who stood about arrayed them in the knightly 
 garb which had been brought for them. Duke Namon,
 
 ;8 The Story of Roland. 
 
 who had been the guardian and most faithful friend of 
 both Roland and Ogier, laced their golden spurs upon 
 their ankles. Turpin blessed their white armor, and in- 
 vested each in his coat of mail. Duke Richard of 
 Normandy buckled on their breastplates ; and Guy of 
 Bourgogne presented them the arm-pieces and the 
 gauntlets. Then came Charlemagne with the swords 
 which he had taken from the altar. To Ogier he gave 
 -\ plain steel blade bearing the inscription, WEAR 
 
 ME UNTIL YOU FIND A BETTER. But tO his nephew 
 
 Roland he gave a wondrous weapon with jewelled hilt, 
 and a fire-edge gleaming like the lightning's glare. 
 And Roland, as he took it, read these words, engraved 
 with many a fair device upun the blade, I AM DURAN- 
 DAL, WHICH TROJAN HECTOR WORE. 
 
 The oath of chivalry was now taken by the new-made 
 knights. Each swore that he would be faithful to God, 
 and loyal to the king; that he would reverence all 
 women ; that he would ever be mindful of the poor 
 and the helpless; that he would never engage in an 
 unrighteous war; that he would never seek to exalt 
 himself to the injury of others; that he would speak 
 the truth, and love mercy, and deal justly with all men. 
 And Charlemagne blessed them, and promised to love 
 them as his sons ; and they, in turn, vowed to love and 
 honor him as their father in knighthood. And then, 
 having donned their helmets, they mounted their steeds, 
 which stood in readiness, and rode away full-made 
 knights.
 
 Knighted on the Battle-field. 79 
 
 The next morning, as Charlemagne rested in his tent, 
 he bethought him of the shameful conduct of Alory. 
 
 "Where now," said he, "is the cowardly Apulian 
 who so nearly ruined our cause yesterday ? " 
 
 "My lord," answered Duke Namon, "he was sorely 
 bruised by the blow with which the Dane hurled him 
 from his saddle. This, together with fear and shame, 
 has made him hide himself from th sight of all true 
 knights." 
 
 "Let him be found/' said the king, "and let meet 
 punishment be awarded him for his treason and his 
 cowardice." 
 
 Not long afterward Alory, having been dragged from 
 his hiding-place, was brought into the presence of the 
 king. When asked to plead his excuse for his craven 
 conduct, he was dumb : he could say nothing in his 
 own defence. Then the peers adjudged him disherited, 
 and forbade him ever again to show his face in the 
 king's court, or ever again to mingle in the company of 
 true knights. But Roland and Ogier, when they heard 
 the sentence, begged leave to speak in his favor. 
 
 " It is not the part of a freeman," said they, " to take 
 pains to forjudge his peer ; nor should he deal harshly 
 or unmercifully with another's weaknesses. If all who 
 flee from battle were disherited, greatly thinned would 
 be our ranks. If a man has been gifted with the heart 
 of a hare, he cannot exchange it for that of a lion. 
 Lombards know not how to carry the Oriflamme of 
 France, neither have they business to meddle with
 
 8o The Story of Roland. 
 
 great battles. We pray that Alory be forgiven, and 
 that he be not intrusted again with duties too great for 
 him." 
 
 Well pleased were the peers with these sensible 
 words of the new-made knights ; and they freely for- 
 gave the craven-hearted Apulian, not for his own sake, 
 but for the sake of Roland, and Ogier the Dane. 1 
 
 > See Note 7 at the end of this volume.
 
 How Ogier won Sword and Horse. 81 
 
 ADVENTURE VIII. 
 
 HOW OGIER WON SWORD AND HORSE. 
 
 ON the banks of the Tiber, not more than a league 
 from the city of Rome, the French encamped, and 
 waited for the Saracens to sally out and attack them. 
 But the Pagans were too wise to risk another battle in 
 the open field. They had ravaged and laid waste all 
 the country around ; they had harvested the corn, and 
 carried the grain into the city ; they had cut down the 
 vineyards and the orchards; they had seized all the 
 cattle, and driven them within the walls ; they had 
 stored away great supplies of provisions, and made 
 ready for a long siege. The Franks, on the other hand, 
 never having thought but that they could support them- 
 selves by foraging, were without food. They were in 
 no condition to carry on a siege against an enemy so 
 well provided. The king was in great trouble. He 
 saw clearly, that, unless he could strike a decisive blow 
 very soon, hunger a foe stronger than the Pagan 
 horde would force him to withdraw. Many of his 
 fighting-men, too, had lost the enthusiasm which they 
 had felt while the enemy were still at a distance. They
 
 82 The Story of Roland. 
 
 began to complain of being kept so long away from 
 their homes and from France ; and some of the weaker- 
 minded knights, led by the crafty Ganelon, had gone so 
 far as to plot rebellion, and were planning secretly how 
 they might betray Charlemagne, and leave fair Italy in, 
 the hands of the Saracens. It was plain to every one, 
 that unless the Pagans could be persuaded to come out 
 from behind the walls, and risk another open battle, the 
 Franks would soon find themselves in desperate straits, 
 and be obliged to give up their undertaking. 
 
 While Charlemagne and his peers paused, and con- 
 sidered what it was best to do, young Chariot, the rash 
 and foolish son of the king, was trying to carry out a 
 plan of his own. With two thousand young men, hot- 
 headed and hare-brained like himself, he had secretly 
 left the camp at nightfall, and marched toward the city, 
 intending by a bold dash upon the enemy to carry 
 succor to the Christian garrison who still held the Capi- 
 toline Fortress. But the watchful Saracens were not to 
 be caught napping. As the young prince and his men 
 cantered carelessly along the high-road, thinking how on 
 the morrow the whole world would ring with the praises 
 of their daring, they did not know that Chief Karaheut, 
 the bravest of the Pagan leaders, with five thousand 
 picked men, was waiting in ambush for them. All at 
 once, like so many fierce tigers, the Pagans rushed out 
 upon the unsuspecting and unready band of Chariot. 
 Short would have been the fight, and mournful would 
 have been the end, had not the sound of the first onset
 
 How Ogier won Sword and Horse. 83 
 
 reached the tent where Charlemagne and his peers sat 
 in council. The air resounded with the yells of the 
 exultant foe and the din and crash of arms. Quickly 
 were Roland and Ogier and their brave comrades in the 
 saddle. Very swiftly did they ride to the rescue. Chief 
 Karaheut, when he saw them coming, called off his men, 
 and withdrew in order toward Rome; and Chariot, 
 crestfallen and ashamed, with the remnant of his band, 
 rode back to the Christian camp. Very angry was 
 Charlemagne at the unwise conduct of his son : furious 
 was he that the Pagans had won the right to say that 
 they had worsted any part of his host in battle. Scarce- 
 ly could his barons hinder him from striking the fool- 
 hardy Chariot with his mace. But Roland, whose words 
 always had great weight with the king, persuaded him 
 to forget his anger. It was not the French who had 
 been worsted in the late fight : it was only a band of 
 rash young men, irresponsible, and unworthy of atten- 
 tion. Not many suns should rise ere the boastful Sara- 
 cens should know the true strength, and feel the full 
 force, of the Christian arm. 
 
 The next day, about noon, as the king sat in his 
 master-tent, with all his peers around him, it was 
 announced that a messenger had come from Corsuble, 
 the Saracen king. It was Chief Karaheut himself. 
 He came to Charlemagne's camp, riding on a mule, and 
 accompanied only by two squires. He was unarmed, 
 and very richly dressed. A turban of red satin embroi- 
 dered with gold was upon his head; a gold-buttoned
 
 84 The Story of Roland. 
 
 mantle of purple silk was thrown over his shoulders ; 
 around his neck was a collar of rich ermine. Right 
 nobly sat he on his mule ; right royally did he salute 
 the king. 
 
 "In the name of all that the Franks hold dear," he 
 said, "I greet great Charlemagne. I greet, too, the 
 knights and barons who sit beside him ; but above them 
 all I greet Ogier the brave Dane." 
 
 The king and his peers heard this greeting in silence ; 
 but, when the name of Ogier was mentioned, the jeal- 
 ousy of young Chariot waxed so great, that he could 
 scarcely hold his tongue. 
 
 "Who are you ? " asked Charlemagne ; " and what is 
 your errand ? " 
 
 " I am Karaheut," answered the Saracen proudly. 
 " I am the bearer of a message from great Corsuble, the 
 king of the faithful. He bids you leave him in peace- 
 ful possession of this city of Rome which he has taken 
 in honorable war, and which is his more than yours. 
 Ten days he will give you to tak' your army and all 
 that is yours out of Italy. If you go not, then he will 
 meet you in battle, and will spare you not; neither 
 will he have mercy upon any who hold the name of 
 Christian." - 
 
 "Never have- 1 turned my back upon unbelievers," 
 haughtily answered the king. " We are ready for fight. 
 Tell your master that we fear not the issue. God will 
 be the judge betwixt us." 
 
 Chief Karaheut bowed courteously. "Yes, surely,"
 
 How Ogier won Sword and Horse. 85 
 
 said he, "God will be the judge. But why risk the 
 lives of so many worthy men ? Were it not better to 
 settle the matter without so much bloodshed ? If you 
 will not withdraw peaceably, King Corsuble allows me 
 to make this offer to you. Let the bravest man among 
 you meet me in single combat, and let the issue of that 
 fight decide who shall be the master of Italy. If I con- 
 quer, Rome shall be ours^ and you shall return at once 
 across the Alps. If I am beaten, the hosts of the faith- 
 ful will at once embark, and sail back to their old homes 
 beyond the sea, leaving you in Rome." 
 
 "That seems a fair offer," said Charlemagne, "and 
 right willingly do we accept; for we like not to spill 
 blood unnecessarily. Choose you now the bravest man 
 among us, and let the issue be left in the hands of 
 God." 
 
 Karaheut, without more ado, pulled off his glove, and 
 cast it down at the feet of the Dane. Ogier at once f . 
 stood up, and accepted the challenge. But Chariot,- 
 ever foolish and ever vain, took him by the arm, and 
 drew him aside. 
 
 "Ogier," whispered he, but so loudly that he was 
 heard by the bystanders, " Ogier^it fs vry unwise for 
 you, a mere boy, thus to accept ^e gauntlet of battle, 
 while your betters are passed by without notice. Your 
 place is in Denmark, dressing leather, and pressing 
 cheese, and not in company with the' heroes of France. 
 And, if I forget not, your father still owes fourpence 
 of tribute to Charlemagne, and your head has been
 
 86 The Story of Roland. 
 
 pledged as security. The Saracen's glove was not in- 
 tended for such as you. Stand aside, and I will do 
 the battle." 
 
 Chief Karaheut's anger waxed very hot, for he de- 
 spised the base-hearted Chariot. " Great king," cried 
 he, " methinks you have little to do to let your son thus 
 browbeat and insult your barons before your face." 
 
 "The Pagan speaks wisely," said Duke Namon ; and 
 all the knights, save Ganelon, assented. " For you we 
 left our pleasant homes, our loving wives, our children, 
 our lands, and our fiefs ; and now your son openly in- 
 sults us. Were it not for fear of breaking our knightly 
 vows, and being guilty of unfaith toward God, we would 
 turn our faces at once toward France." 
 
 Charlemagne saw the justice of these complaints; 
 and, turning to Chariot, he reproved him harshly for his 
 disrespect to Ogier and the barons. But the shallow- 
 pated prince excused himself, and still insisted on fight- 
 ing the Saracen if not Karaheut, then some other 
 Pagan warrior of rank equal to himself. He wished to 
 make amends for last night's disgraceful mistake. In 
 the end it was agreed that there should be two com- 
 batants on each side, that Ogier should fight with Kara- 
 heut, and that Chariot should have for his opponent 
 Prince Sadone, the son of the Saracen king. It was 
 further arranged, that the combat should take place on 
 the morrow, in a grassy meadow near the banks of the 
 Tiber, and that the fighting should be with swords and 
 on foot. Then Karaheut rode back again to Rome.
 
 How Ogier won Sword and Horse. 87 
 
 The next day, at the rising of the sun, Ogier and 
 Chariot mounted their steeds, and rode away toward 
 the place that had been appointed for the combat. 
 With great care had they armed themselves. Chariot 
 wore at his side his father's own sword, the trenchant 
 blade Joyeuse, with the carved hilt of gold ; and his 
 coat-of-mail was of the truest steel. The Dane, too, 
 was well equipped, but only as a common knight ; and 
 the sword which he carried was that which the king 
 had given him on investing him with knighthood. 
 
 Chief Karaheut and young Sadone already waited for 
 them at the meadow Most royally were the Pagans 
 armed. Karaheut's shield was of steel inlaid with gold, 
 and engraved with many strange devices and many 
 words of mystic meaning. On the rim of his helmet 
 burned five gem-stones, bright as little suns, or as 
 torches in the darkness of the night. By his side hung 
 the world-famous sword called "Short." This sword 
 was the work of a giant-smith named Brumadant, and, 
 next to Joyeuse and Durandal, was the best that had 
 ever been wrought. Twenty times over had Brumadant 
 melted and welded this blade ; and he had tempered it 
 in the blood of dragons and at the forge-fires of the 
 elves. And, when he had finished it, he tried it upon a 
 block of marble. The huge stone split asunder from end 
 to end : but, in drawing out the sword, a palm's length 
 of the blade was broken off ; and this is why it was 
 always called " Short." And Karaheut prized it above 
 every thing else, for it was a very terror to all his foes.
 
 88 The Story of Roland. 
 
 Sadone was equipped, as became a king's son, fair and 
 courteously : his helmet sparkled with jewels, and his 
 breastplate and shield were of the brightest polished 
 steel. His sword was a famous blade that had been 
 brought from the North. Men said that it had been 
 wrought by Wayland, the master-smith of the Saxons, 
 and that it had been worn by many of the doughtiest 
 heroes of the North-land. 
 
 Together the four knights rode across the meadow, 
 choosing a fit place for the combat. They chatted 
 together pleasantly, as friends long-tried and true, rather 
 than as foes making ready to meet each other in deadly 
 fight. Having reached a smooth, grassy knoll, Ogier 
 and Karaheut dismounted ; and while their steeds wan- 
 dered about over the green, cropping the grass and the 
 rich herbage, they began to make ready for the duel. 
 But Chariot and Sadone, not altogether pleased with 
 this spot, rode onward, seeking a better. Suddenly, 
 from the wood, thirty Pagan horsemen swept down upon 
 them : they were men whom Corsuble had treacherously 
 hidden there in order to seize the Christian knights. 
 Karaheut was the first to see them, and he cried out 
 to the Dane to defend himself. Chariot put spurs to 
 his horse, and galloped with all speed back to Charle- 
 magne's camp. But Ogier, on foot, and armed only 
 with his sword, was no match for so many horsemen. 
 Valiantly for a time, however, did he defend himself, 
 and more than one stout Saracen was unhorsed. Yet 
 soon his sword was broken, and he was forced to yield
 
 How Ogier won Sword and Horse. 89 
 
 himself a prisoner ; and, before Charlemagne could send 
 him aid, the treacherous Pagans had carried him to 
 Rome, and taken him into the presence of their king. 
 
 In King Corsuble's garden, beneath an olive-tree, 
 they stripped the Danish hero of his armor. Turks 
 and Persians crowded around to see him, as if he were 
 some wild beast of the desert. Some were for putting 
 him to death at once. Others cried out, "Fie, for 
 shame ! Let him go back to his own folk ! Never 
 should it be said that we deal thus treacherously with 
 our foes." Chief Karaheut begged the king to set him 
 free. 
 
 "It is a dishonor to our religion," said he, "thus to 
 break our plighted faith with the Christians. It is con- 
 trary to all the laws of knighthood." 
 
 " I hold no faith with the Christian dogs," angrily 
 answered the king. " My own will is higher than all 
 the laws of chivalry. It is to this vile Dane that we 
 owe our defeat of the other day. To-morrow he shall 
 be hanged in the sight of all our people." 
 
 When Karaheut heard this answer, he went away in 
 great grief and anger, declaring that never would he 
 allow so base and dishonorable a deed to be done. And 
 he called his men together, and bade them be ready on 
 the morrow to rebel against the king, who had shown 
 himself unworthy of their fealty. 
 
 And now Glorianda, the daughter of King Corsuble, 
 came down the garden-walk to see the peerless young 
 hero of the North. Very handsome was the princess
 
 90 The Story of Roland. 
 
 straight of body, and fair of face. Well clad was she 
 in the costly cloth of Greece, with a tunic of purple 
 embroidered with gold, and over it a silken mantle. On 
 her feet she wore narrow shoes of Cordova, colored and 
 adorned with Moorish gold. Hot shone the sun ; and 
 instead of a wimple she wore a jaunty hat on her head. 
 Blue were her eyes ; her mouth was small, and sweet as 
 a babe's. A fair barbarian was she, so fair, that no 
 man on earth could be tired of seeing her, even if he 
 gazed forever. When she saw the hero Dane, so comely 
 and tall and strong, and heard that he was doomed to 
 die a felon's death on the morrow, she was very sad. 
 And she prayed her father to spare his life. But King 
 Corsuble's heart was harder than flint. 
 
 " Say not a word ! " he cried. " I have vowed that 
 the dog shall die, and so it shall be." 
 
 The next morning, at break of day, Chief Karaheut 
 went again into the presence of Corsuble to beg him 
 to have mercy on Ogier. But the king was furious, and 
 more determined than ever. 
 
 " He shall live until the setting of this day's sun," 
 said he, " but not a moment longer. And, if you dare 
 speak to me again in his favor, you shall hang with 
 him." 
 
 Then Karaheut went out of the palace, and mounted 
 his steed, and galloped with all haste out of the city, 
 and past the guards, who dared not question him, and 
 stopped not until he reached the Christian camp, and 
 stood once more in front of Charlemagne's master-tent
 
 How Ogier won Sword and Horse. 91 
 
 "Great king," said he, "hearken to me ! I have come 
 to yield myself your prisoner. You shall not say that 
 I have betrayed you, nor that I have been false to my 
 word. I am here for you to deal with me even as 
 my own people shall deal with Ogier." 
 
 The knights and barons were filled with wonder. 
 
 " Here, indeed, is a gentle Pagan ! " cried they. 
 
 " By my troth, he is the worthiest of heroes ! " said 
 Charlemagne. " Never have I seen a truer knight, nor 
 one more loyal, or more perfect in every knightly virtue." 
 
 The day began to wane. The sun was sloping far 
 toward the west. Ogier, in his prison-cell, had well- 
 nigh given up all hope of escape. Suddenly he heard 
 a great uproar in the street below, the sound of tramp- 
 ing feet and of lusty cheers. He peered out through 
 the grating of his window, and saw that the noise was 
 made by a company of strange Pagans marching toward 
 the king's palace. They were travel-stained, and seem- 
 ingly weary with long journeying, and were dressed in 
 a garb different from any that Ogier had ever seen. He 
 asked his jailer who these strange people were, and 
 was told that they were the bravest warriors of all 
 Paynimry, just come from India to the succor of King 
 Corsuble. 
 
 " And who is the black giant who rides before them 
 on that wondrous horse ? " asked Ogier. 
 
 " That is Brunamont, the King of Maiolgre, the great 
 island of the sea," answered the jailer; "and the horse 
 which he bestrides is the famed steed Broiefort."
 
 92 The Story of Roland. 
 
 " Never saw I a nobler charger," said Ogier. " Me- 
 thinks I would rather own him than be master of a 
 city." 
 
 Great was King Corsuble's delight at the timely com- 
 ing of his allies ; and he quite forgot that the Danish 
 hero lay in his prison-tower, awaiting his doom. He 
 thought only of how he might best welcome and enter- 
 tain the giant-king of Maiolgre. And he made a great 
 feast in his palace-hall; and all the noblest of his 
 warriors, save Karaheut, were there. And Brunamont, 
 hideously ugly and black, sat in the seat of honor by 
 his side. And the wine went freely round, and both 
 king and guests were very merry. 
 
 "Ah, my sweet friend!" said Corsuble, embracing 
 the giant : " thou hast come in the very nick of time. 
 The Franks are now at our mercy, and we shall soon 
 drive them out of Italy. Then it will be an easy matter 
 to cross the mountains after them, and drive them out 
 of France also. And thou, dear Brunamont, shalt not 
 go unrewarded. Thou shalt have France for thy por- 
 tion, and thou shalt be my son-in-law. Here is my 
 daughter Glorianda, the peerless pearl of Paynimry : 
 she shall be thy wife. Arise, Glorianda, and salute 
 thy future husband!" 
 
 Glorianda arose, as she was bidden ; but she had no 
 word of salutation for the grim king of Maiolgre. 
 
 " My lord," said she to Corsuble, her father, " it is not 
 the custom for a maiden who is betrothed to one prince 
 to be given to another, and that without her consent.
 
 How Ogier won Sword and Horse. 93 
 
 You know that I am plighted already to Chief Karaheut, 
 and I will be the wife of none other." 
 
 " Ha ! " cried the king half-merrily, half-angrily. 
 " When did it become the custom among us for a maiden 
 to choose whom she would marry ? Karaheut is a 
 traitor. And who is there here to hinder me from 
 giving thee to whomsoever I please?" 
 
 "If Karaheut were only here, he would save me," 
 said Glorianda. Then she bethought her of Ogier the 
 Dane, lying in prison, and doomed to death ; and she 
 went on, " but he is not here, and I have no champion. 
 Nevertheless, there is that young Christian whom you 
 have in jail, who I am sure will take the place of the 
 absent Karaheut, and defend me against this injustice. 
 Let him be my champion ; and, if Brunamont overcome 
 him in fair combat, then I will submit." 
 
 King Corsuble was pleased with this proposal ; and 
 the swarthy Brunamont, who had never been beaten in 
 battle, was only too glad to show his prowess by con- 
 tending in single combat with the pale-faced Northman. 
 
 When word was brought to Ogier in prison, that he 
 had been chosen as the champion of the Princess Glo- 
 rianda, he was highly pleased. " I would rather die, 
 fighting the Pagan monster with my fists," said he, 
 "than suffer the disgraceful punishment of a felon." 
 And he sent one of Karaheut's squires to bear the 
 news to his friends in the Christian camp. When 
 Karaheut heard that the Dane was to fight in his place 
 against the giant Brunamont, he begged Charlemagne
 
 94 The Story of Roland. 
 
 to allow him to go and see the combat ; and he pledged 
 himself, that, in case Ogier should not gain his freedom, 
 he would come back, and again yield himself prisoner. 
 Charlemagne consented ; and Karaheut lost no time in 
 returning to the city. There he armed the Dane in his 
 own armor, and gave him as a present the noble sword 
 Short, the blade which Ogier both desired and feared 
 more than all things else on earth. 
 
 "Take this sword," said he, "and it shall prove a 
 firm friend to thee. If thou dost but conquer in this 
 battle, it shall be thy reward." 
 
 Very thankful was Ogier; and his heart grew big 
 with hope as he took the jewelled hilt in his hand, and 
 read the inscription on the blade, I AM CORTANA THE 
 SHORT. HE WHO HAS THE RIGHT ON HIS SIDE NEED 
 NOT FEAR THE MIGHT OF THE WRONG-DOER. 
 
 The place appointed for the combat was a treeless 
 island in the middle of the River Tiber. The banks on 
 either side were lined with thousands of men from both 
 armies, anxious to witness the fray. Ogier was the first 
 to take his place. His friends on the farther bank of 
 the river feared greatly the result of the combat. They 
 felt, that, however bravely he might fight, his strength 
 would be no match for that of the grim giant who had 
 already overcome and slain more than twenty valiant 
 kings. They had not learned that skill is stronger in the 
 end than mere brute force. They beckoned to Ogier to 
 throw himself into the river, and swim across to them. 

 
 How Ogier won Sword and Horse. 95 
 
 " Ogier," they cried, " come to the host ! It is your 
 only chance of escape. Save your life while you may." 
 
 But Ogier shook his head. 
 
 " Not for a whole valley full of gold," said he, " would 
 I do a deed so cowardly ! " 
 
 And now came Brunamont to tht combat, riding the 
 famed steed Broiefort. How Ogier longed to have that 
 noble animal for his own ! Never had there been a 
 more goodly horse. Black as midnight was he, with 
 a silver star in the middle of his forehead ; and men 
 said that he could climb the steepest mountain without 
 tiring, or run three whole days without panting or 
 stopping. 
 
 " Great Father," said Ogier, raising his hands to 
 heaven, " thou who didst form all the world, if it please 
 thee, give me the victory to-day ! " 
 
 But his thoughts were on the horse. 
 
 Brunamont dismounted, and with long strides ad- 
 vanced toward Ogier. Scornfully he laughed at his 
 foe ; and he brandished his sword about his head, and 
 thought to make quick work of this combat. But sad 
 was his mistake. The good blade Short leaped sud- 
 denly out of its scabbard, and the light of its gleaming 
 edge flashed hither and thither like the play of the 
 lightning in the summer's cloud. The first stroke cui 
 the sword of Brunamont in twain, and left the giant 
 but half armed. The second stroke cleaved his iron 
 helmet ; and, although it missed his brain, it sheared off 
 his left ear, and laid the whole side of his face bare
 
 96 The Story of Roland. 
 
 Brunamont, who had never before felt fear, waited not 
 for the third stroke. He turned and fled, thinking only 
 of how he might save his life. He leaped into the 
 river, hoping to swim across to his Pagan friends ; but 
 the current was deep and swift, and his heavy armor 
 dragged him down, and the waters soon made for him 
 a grave. 
 
 Ogier took to himself the horse Broiefort, for he 
 considered that he had fairly won him ; and there was 
 nought that now is or ever was that he coveted so 
 much. Charlemagne at once led his army across the 
 river, and attacked the astonished and disappointed 
 Saracens. Great was the rout of the unbelievers ; and 
 many of their bravest warriors were slain, or taken 
 prisoners. And on the morrow King Corsuble, de- 
 feated and crestfallen, withdrew from Rome, and with 
 Ais whole army embarked, and set sail across the sea. 
 And Charlemagne, after seeing the pope happily re- 
 stored to his place, returned to France.
 
 Roland's Arms. 97 
 
 ADVENTURE IX. 
 
 ROLAND'S ARMS. 
 
 (_ROLAND had now come to the years of manhood. 
 Among all the knights and warriors in Charlemagne's 
 court he was accounted the best. Save only Ogier the\ 
 Dane, he excelled them all in every deed and feat of 
 arms, in knightly courtesy, in respect for authority, irk 
 kind consideration for the poor and friendless. And \ 
 every one, except Prince Chariot and Ganelon of May- 
 ence, praised and loved him ; for he was indeed a knight 
 without fear and without reproach. 
 
 Great ca*e was taken by Charlemagne to provide 
 armor for his nephew, fitting for one who was destined 
 to be a hero. From the far south a helmet was brought, 
 a wondrous casque most wondrously wrought. Men 
 ssid that it was the handiwork of Vulcan, the lame 
 blacksmith of the golden age, the age when the gods 
 still lived, and mingled with mankind. It was made of 
 steel, inlaid with gold and pearls, and bound around 
 with brass. It was engraved, inside and outside, with 
 strange mottoes and battle-scenes, and legends of 
 knightly valor. Above its crest waved an ostrich-
 
 98 The Story of Roland. 
 
 plume, and in front sat a golden eagle. Only two such 
 helmets did Vulcan make, one for Trojan Hector, 
 the godlike hero of that ancient day; and the other 
 for the noblest knight of later times. 
 
 The war-coat which Roland wore had been brought 
 from the far North, and was such as the men of France 
 had never before seen. They said that it was the work 
 of Wayland, the master-smith of the Teuton-folk. So 
 curiously had it been wrought, and so rare was the tem- 
 per of its steel, that no thrust of lance, nor stroke of 
 sword, could harm him whom it incased. The metal of 
 which it was made had been digged from the earth 
 by the cunning dwarf-folk, who lived in the hill-caves of 
 the North while yet the race of men-folk was young. 
 It had been smelted in the mountain furnaces of the 
 giants. Twelve months had Wayland worked day and 
 night at his forge, beating it into shape, and tempering 
 it, as he only knew how. And, when he had finished it, 
 ; he had given it to Beowulf, the Anglo-Saxon hero, the 
 slayer of the monster Grendel and of the fire-breathing 
 dragon of the North. When or how it had been 
 brought to France, I know not. But, when Roland first 
 donned it, it is said that men whispered among them- 
 selves, and said, "What need has he of such rare 
 armor ? Better give it tc some one whose body is not 
 already proof against harm." For it was believed that 
 Roland bore a charmed life, and that like Achilles of 
 old, and like Siegfried, no weapon could touch or harm 
 Kim save in a single small spot of his body, some said
 
 Roland's Arms. 99 
 
 midway between his shoulders ; others s.aid on the bot- 
 toms of his feet. 
 
 The arms which our hero bore were in every way 
 equal to the armor which protected him. His shield 
 was of three plates of steel, copper, and gold, bound 
 together with bolts of brass ; and on it were emblazoned 
 the quarterings of red and white, the armorial bear- 
 ings by which he was distinguished. His favorite lance 
 was a mountain ash, weighty and tough, a very beam in 
 length, and so heavy, that none but Roland, or Ogier the 
 Dane, could poise it. The golden spurs which he wore 
 as the sign of his knighthood had been given him by 
 Morgan the Fay, the fairy queen of Avalon ; and I have 
 been told that they were the same that had been worn 
 by the famed King Arthur when he and his knights of 
 the round table lived amongst men. 
 
 But the sword which Roland carried at his side was 
 the noblest piece of all. The world had never seen a 
 more wonderful blade than Durandal. Not Siegfried's 
 Balmung, nor King Arthur's Excalibur, nor Charle- 
 magne's Joyeuse, nor Ogier's Short, could be compared 
 with it in beauty and true worth. It was the. sword 
 which Hector, the mighty prince of Troy, had wielded 
 so valiantly in battle with the Greeks. From Vulcan's 
 forge it had come, where the lame smith god had tem- 
 pered it in the flames of Tartarus. Neither wood, nor 
 stone, nor any metal, could turn its razor-edge : no war- 
 coat, nor helmet of steel, could withstand its stroke. 
 On one of its bright blue sides were many mystic letters
 
 ioo The Story of Roland. 
 
 carved, words which the Trojans knew, but which 
 had long ago been forgotten, and which none but sooth- 
 sayers could now make out. ^lalagisthe dwarf read 
 them : " LET HONOR BE TO HIM WHO MOST DESERVF.TH 
 IT." On the other side were the words which I have 
 elsewhere quoted, "I AM DURANDAL, WHICH TROJAN 
 HECTOR WORE," written in Latin. It is said by some, 
 that once, when Charlemagne was in the valley of Mau- 
 riveine, an angel or more likely a fairy gave this 
 sword to him, and told him to gird it on a young knight 
 who had never known fear or reproach. Others say, 
 that, after the death of Hector at the hands of the 
 wrathful Achilles, this wondrous blade had been taken 
 and kept by fair Penthiselea, Queen of Persia; and that 
 from her it had been handed down, age after age, from 
 one generation to another, to be wielded by the worthi- 
 est of Persia's Pagan princes ; and that at last Charle- 
 magne had wrested it from the unbelievers, and kept it 
 to endow his loved nephew. Let it be as it may, we 
 know that the king gave it to Roland when he invested 
 him with knighthood, and that Roland proved himself 
 well worthy of the gift. 
 
 Next to the sword Durandal, the thing which Roland 
 prized the most was an ivory horn which he wore hung 
 from his neck by a golden chain. This horn had been 
 made from the tooth of a sea-horse, or, what is more 
 likely, the tusk of a unicorn ; and it was set thick with 
 pearls and priceless gem-stones, and inlaid with silver 
 and gold. Old stories are not quite clear as to how or
 
 Roland's Arms. 101 
 
 where Roland got this wondrous horn ; but I have heard 
 that it, too, was a gift from the king. Charlemagne had 
 long prized it as a rare treasure, not only on account of 
 its great beauty and its workmanship, but also because 
 of the wonderful music which was said to issue from it 
 when blown by any one who was strong enough to 
 sound it. Yet nobody in Charlemagne's time had ever 
 heard it. The stoutest knights who came to Paris or to 
 Aix were challenged to blow upon it, and the king 
 promised to give the beautiful instrument to him who 
 could first make the slightest sound come out of it. 
 And, although some had split their lungs in trying, no 
 one had ever succeeded in making a single note. On 
 an idle day in winter, the king by chance bethought 
 him of challenging Roland to blow. 
 
 "Dear nephew," said he, "you have never yet been 
 beaten in tourney or in fight, nor have you ever failed 
 in any thing you have undertaken. I have here some- 
 thing that will test your strength. It is the horn of my 
 grandfather, the great Charles the Hammer. In his 
 days, when men were stronger and seemingly more val- 
 iant than now, the most wondrous sounds were made to 
 come out of it. I have heard it said that these sounds 
 had all the sweetness of angels' songs coupled with the 
 deafening din of the thunder's crash. And, indeed, 
 some slanderers once whispered that it was the sound 
 of this horn, rather than his own valor or that of his 
 fighting-men, that won for Charles the Hammer that 
 grand victory over the Saracens at Poictiers which has
 
 IO2 The Story of Roland. 
 
 made his name so famous. But men have grown won- 
 drous weak of lungs, and not a knight in all France can 
 blow the horn now." 
 
 Roland took the ivory bugle in his hands, and ad- 
 mired its rare beauty. Then he put it to his mouth 
 and blew. A sound more wonderful than any man then 
 living had ever heard came forth, and filled the hall and 
 the great palace, and rolled out through the gates into 
 the streets and over the country, and was carried from 
 city to castle, and from castle to country-side, and 
 through the forests, and over the mountains, until the 
 whole land, for leagues and leagues around, echoed and 
 re-echoed with the wondrous vibrations. Never were 
 folk more astonished than those who heard this sound. 
 Men, women, and children stood in utter amazement, 
 holding their hands to their ears, afraid to listen, and 
 yet wishing to hear. Some thought that the heavens 
 were falling, and that the end of the world had come. 
 Others wondered what kind of thunder this was, which, 
 with all its deafening clangor, was sweeter than music. 
 The king, with hasty gestures, begged Roland to stop 
 blowing ; but, after he had ceased, the sound continued 
 for a long time to reverberate among the castle towers, 
 and from hill to hill, and from earth to sky, like the 
 distant rolling of the thunder after a summer storm 
 has passed over our heads. 
 
 "The horn is yours," said the king, delighted and 
 amazed. "You have fairly won the horn of Charles 
 the Hammer, and no one can ever gainsay your right
 
 Roland's Arms. 103 
 
 to it. But I give it to you only on condition that you 
 shall never blow it, save in battle and in time of the 
 utmost need." \ 
 
 That same evening, as Charlemagne and his house- 
 hold sat in the well-warmed hall of the palace, and be- 
 guiled the hours with music and mirth, a minstrel sang 
 to them the Song of the Lorrainers ; I and he told them 
 of the gallant sons of Hervi, of Garin, and Bego of 
 Belin, who, he said, was the last knight who had cai 
 ried the ivory bugle of Charles the Hammer. 
 
 THE STORY. 
 
 Charles the Hammer was dead, and his young son 
 Pepin was king of France. Bego of Belin was his dear- 
 est friend, and to him he had given all Gascony in fief. 
 You would have far to go to find the peer of the valiant 
 Bego. None of King Pepin's nobles dared gainsay 
 him. Rude in speech, and rough in war, though he 
 was, he was a true knight, gentle and loving to his 
 friends, very tender to his wife and children, kind to 
 his vassals, just and upright in all his doings. The 
 very flower of knighthood was Bego. 
 
 Bitter feuds had there been between the family of 
 Bego and that of Fromont of Bordeaux. Long time 
 had these quarrels continued, and on both sides much 
 blood had been spilled. But now there had been peace 
 between them for ten years and more, and the old 
 hatred was being forgotten. 
 
 See Note 8 at the end of this volume.
 
 104 The Story of Roland. 
 
 One day Bego sat in his lordly castle at Belin ; and 
 beside him was his wife, the fair Beatrice. In all 
 France there was not a happier man. From the win- 
 dows the duke looked out upon his broad lands and the 
 rich farms of his tenants. As far as a bird could fly 
 in a day, all was his ; and his vassals and serving-men 
 were numbered by the tens of thousands. "What 
 more," thought Bego, " could the heart of man wish or 
 pray for?" His two young sons came bounding into 
 the hall, Gerin, the elder-born, fair-haired and tall, 
 brave and gentle as his father ; and Hernaudin, the 
 younger, a child of six summers, his mother's pet, and 
 the joy of the household. With them were six other 
 lads, sons of noblemen ; and all together laughed and 
 played, and had their boyish pleasure. 
 
 When the duke saw them, he remembered his own 
 boyhood days and the companions who had shared his 
 sports, and he sighed. The fair Beatrice heard him, 
 and she said, " My lord, what ails you, that you are so 
 thoughtful to-day? Why should rich duke like you 
 sigh, and seem sad ? Great plenty of gold and silver 
 have you in your coffers ; you have enough of the vair 
 and the gray, 1 of hawks on their perches, of mules and 
 palfreys and war-steeds; you have overcome all your 
 foes, and none dare rise up against you. All within 
 six days' journey are your vassals. What more would 
 you desire to make you happy ? " 
 
 1 The vair and the gray, furs used for garments, and in heraldry. Vair is 
 the skin of the squirrel, and was arranged in shields of blue and white alternating.
 
 Roland's Arms. 105 
 
 "Sweet lady," answered Bego, "you have spoken 
 truly. I am rich, as the world goes ; but my wealth is 
 not happiness. True wealth is not of money, of the 
 vair and the gray, of mules, or of horses. It is of kins- 
 folk and friends. The heart of a man is worth more 
 thar all the gold of a country. Had it not been for my 
 friends, I would have been put to shame long ago. The 
 king has given me this fief, far from my boyhood's 
 home, where I see but few of my old comrades and 
 helpers. I have not seen my brother Garin, the Lor- 
 rainer, these seven years, and my heart yearns to behold 
 him. Now, methinks, I will go to him, and I will see 
 his son, the child Girbert, whom I have never seen." 
 
 The Lady Beatrice said not a word, but the tears 
 began to well up sadly in her eyes. 
 
 "In the wood of Puelle," said Bego, after a pause, 
 "there is said to be a wild boar, the largest and fiercest 
 ever seen. He outruns the fleetest horses. No man 
 can slay him. Methinks, that if it please God, and I 
 live, I will hunt in that wood, and I will carry the head 
 of the great beast to my brother the Lorrainer." 
 
 Then Beatrice, forcing back her tears, spoke. " Sir," 
 said she, "hat is it thou sayest ? The wood of Puelle 
 is in the land of Count Baldwin, and thou knowest that 
 he was slain by thee in those unhappy wars long time 
 ago ; but I havo been told that he left a son, who has 
 sworn to avenge him. The wood is also in the march 
 of Fromont the chief, and he owes thee a great grudge. 
 He would be too glad to do thee harm. I pray thee do
 
 The Story of Roland. 
 
 not undertake this hunt. My heart tells me, I will 
 not hide the truth from thee, my heart tells me, that 
 if thou goest thither thou shalt never come back alive." 
 
 But the duke laughed at her fears ; and the more she 
 tried to dissuade him, the more he set his mind on see- 
 ing his brother the Lorrainer, and on carrying to him 
 the head of the great wild boar of Puelle. Neither 
 prayers nor tears could turn him from his purpose. All 
 the gold in the world, he said, would not tempt him to 
 give up the adventure. 
 
 So on the morrow morning, before the sun had fairly 
 risen, Bego made ready to go. As this was no warlike 
 enterprise, he dressed himself in the richest garb of 
 knightly hero, with mantle of ermine, and spurs of 
 gold. With him he took three dozen huntsmen, all 
 skilled in the lore of the woods, and ten packs of hunt- 
 ing-hounds. He had, also, ten horses loaded with gold 
 and silver and costly presents, and more than a score 
 of squires and serving-men. Tenderly he bade fair 
 Beatrice and his two young sons good-by. Ah, what 
 grief ! Never was he to see them more. 
 
 Going by way of Orleans, Bego stopped a day with 
 his sister, the lovely Helois. Three days h^ tarried at 
 Paris, the honored guest of the king and queen. Then 
 pushing on to Valenciennes, which was on the borders 
 of the great forest, he took up lodging with a rich 
 burgher called Berenger the gray. 
 
 "Thou hast many foes in these parts," said the 
 burgher, "and thou wouldst do well to ware of them."
 
 Roland's Arms. 107 
 
 Bego only laughed at the warning. " Didst thou ever 
 know a Gascon to shun danger ? " he asked. " I have 
 heard of the famed wild boar of Puelle, and I mean to 
 hunt him in this wood. Neither friends nor foes shall 
 hinder me." 
 
 On the morrow Berenger led the duke and his party 
 into the wood, and showed them the lair of the beast. 
 Out rushed the monster upon his foes ; then swiftly he 
 fled, crashing through brush and brake, keeping well 
 out of the reach of the huntsmen, turning every now 
 and then to rend some too venturesome hound. For 
 fifteen leagues across the country he led the chase. 
 One by one the huntsmen lost sight of him. Toward 
 evening a cold rain came up ; and they turned, and rode 
 back toward Valenciennes. They had not seen the 
 duke since noon. They supposed that he had gone 
 back with Berenger. But Bego was still riding through 
 the forest in close pursuit of the wild boar. Only three 
 hounds kept him company. The beast was well-nigh 
 wearied out, and the duke knew that he could not go 
 much farther. He rode up close behind him ; and the 
 fierce animal, his mouth foaming with rage, turned furi- 
 jusly uporithim. But the knight, with a well-aimed 
 thrust of his sword, pierced the great beast through 
 the heart. 
 
 By this time, night was falling. The duke knew that 
 he was very far from any town or castle, but he hoped 
 that some of his men might be within call. He took 
 his horn, and blew it twice full loudly. But his hunts-
 
 io8 The Story of Roland. 
 
 men were now riding into Valenciennes ; nor did they 
 think that they had left their master behind them in 
 the wood. With his flint the duke kindled a fire be- 
 neath an aspen-tree, and made ready to spend the night 
 near the place where the slain wild boar lay. 
 
 The forester who kept the wood heard the sound 
 of Bego's horn, and saw the light of the fire gleaming 
 through the trees. Cautiously he drew nearer. He 
 was surprised to see a knight so richly clad, with his 
 silken hose and his golden spurs, his ivory horn hang- 
 ing from his neck by a blue ribbon. He noticed the 
 great sword that hung at Bego's side. It was the fairest 
 and fearfullest weapon he had ever seen. He hastened 
 as fast as he could ride to Lens, where Duke Fromont 
 dwelt ; but he spoke not a word to Fromont. He took 
 the steward of the castle aside, and told him of what he 
 had seen in the wood. 
 
 "He is no common huntsman," said the forester; 
 " and you should see how richly clad he is. No king 
 was ever arrayed more gorgeously while hunting. And 
 his horse I never saw a better." 
 
 "But what is all this to me?" asked the steward. 
 " If he is trespassing in the forest, it is your duty to 
 bring him before the duke." 
 
 "Ah! it is hard for you to understand," answered 
 the forester. "Methinks that if our master had the 
 boar, the sword, and the horn, he would let me keep 
 the clothing, and you the horse, and would trouble us 
 with but few questions."
 
 Roland's Arms. 109 
 
 "Thou art indeed wise," answered the steward. 
 And he at once called six men, whom he knew he could 
 trust to any evil deed, and told them to go with the 
 forester. 
 
 "And, if you find any man trespassing in Duke 
 Fremont's wood, spare him not," he added. 
 
 In the morning the ruffians came to the place where 
 Duke Bego had spent the night. They found him sit- 
 ting not far from the great beast which he had slain, 
 while his horse stood before him, and neighed with im- 
 patience, and struck his hoofs upon the ground. They 
 asked him who gave him leave to hunt in the wood of 
 Puelle. 
 
 " I ask no man's leave to hunt where it pleases me," 
 he answered. 
 
 They told him then that the lordship of the wood was 
 with Fromont, and that he must go with them, as their 
 prisoner, to Lens. 
 
 "Very well," said Bego. "I will go with you. If I 
 have done aught of wrong to Fromont the old, I am 
 willing to make it right with him. My brother Garin, 
 the Lorrainer, and King Pepin, will go my surety." 
 
 Then, looking around upon the villainous faces of 
 the men who had come to make prisoner of him, he 
 bethought himself for a moment. 
 
 "No, no!" he cried. "Never will I yield me to six 
 such rascals. Before I die, I will sell myself full dear. 
 Yesterday six and thirty knights were with me, and 
 master-huntsmen, skilled in all the lore of the wood.
 
 1 10 The Story of Roland. 
 
 Noble men were they all ; for not one of them but held 
 in fief some town or castle or rich country-side. They 
 will join me ere long." 
 
 "He speaks thus, either to excuse himself or to 
 frighten us," said one of the men ; and he went boldly 
 forward, and tried to snatch the horn from Bego's neck. 
 The duke raised his fist, and knocked him senseless to 
 the ground. 
 
 "Never shall ye take horn from count's neck!" he 
 cried. 
 
 Then all set upon him at once, hoping that by their 
 numbers they might overpower him. But Bego drew 
 his sword, and struck valiantly to the right and to the 
 left of him. Three of the villains were slain outright ; 
 and the rest took to their heels and fled, glad to escape 
 such fury. 
 
 And now all might have been well with Duke Bego. 
 But a churl, armed with a bow, and arrows of steel, was 
 hidden among the trees. When he saw his fellows put 
 to flight, he drew a great steel bolt, and aimed it at the 
 duke. Swiftly sped the arrow toward the noble targe : 
 too truly was it aimed. The duke's sword fell from 
 his hands : the master-vein of his heart had been cut 
 in twain. He lifted his hands toward heaven, and 
 prayed : 
 
 "Almighty Father, who always wert and art, have 
 pity on my .soul. Ah, Beatrice! thou sweet, gentle 
 wife, never more shalt thou see me under heaven. 
 Fair brother Garin of Lorraine, never shall I be with
 
 Roland's Arms. in 
 
 thee to serve thee. My two noble boys, if I had lived, 
 you should have been the worthiest of knights : now, 
 may Heaven defend you ! " 
 
 After a while the churl and the three villains came 
 near him, and found him dead. It was no common 
 huntsman whom they had killed, but a good knight, 
 the loyalest and the best that ever God's sun shone 
 upon. They took the sword and the horn and the good 
 steed ; they loaded the boar upon a horse ; and all re- 
 turned to Lens. But they left Bego in the forest, and 
 with him his three dogs, who sat around him, and 
 howled most mournfully, as if they -knew they had lost 
 their best friend. 
 
 The men carried the great boar into the castle of 
 Lens, and threw it down upon the kitchen-hearth. A 
 wonderful beast he was : his sharp, curved tusks stuck 
 out full a foot from his mouth. The serving-men and 
 the squires crowded around to see the huge animal ; 
 then, as the news was told through the castle, many 
 fair ladies and knights, and the priests from the chapel, 
 came in to view the sight. Old Duke Fromont heard 
 the uproar, and came in slippers and gown to ask what 
 it all meant. 
 
 " Whence came this boar, this ivory horn, this 
 sword?" he inquired. "This horn never belonged. to 
 a mere huntsman. It looks like the wondrous horn 
 that King Charles the Hammer had in the days of my 
 father. There is but one knight now living that can 
 blow it ; and he is far away in Gascony. Tell me where 
 you got these things."
 
 ii2 The Story of Roland. 
 
 Then the forester told him all that had happened in 
 the wood, coloring the story, of course, so as to excuse 
 himself from wrong doing. 
 
 " And left ye the slain man in the wood ? " asked the 
 old duke. " A more shameful sin I have never known 
 than to leave him there for the wolves to eat. Go ye 
 back at once, and fetch him hither. To-night he shall 
 be watched in the chapel, and to-morrow he shall be 
 buried with all due honor. Men should have pity of 
 one another." 
 
 The body of the noble Duke Bego was brought, and 
 laid upon a table in the great hall. His dogs were 
 still with him, howling pitifully, and licking his face. 
 Knights and noblemen came in to see him. 
 
 "A gentle man this was," said they; "for even his 
 dogs loved him." 
 
 " Shame on the rascals who slew him ! " said others. 
 "No freeman would have touched so noble a knight." 
 
 Old Duke Fromont came in. He started back at 
 sight of him who lay there lifeless. Well he knew 
 Duke Bego, by a scar that he himself had given him at 
 the battle of St. Quentin ten years before. He fell 
 fainting into the arms of his knights. Then afterward 
 he upbraided his men for their dastardly deed, and 
 bewailed their wicked folly. 
 
 "This is no poaching huntsman whom you have 
 slain," said he, "but a most worthy knight, the kind- 
 est, the best taught, that ever wore spurs. And ye have 
 dragged me this day into such a war that I shall not be
 
 Roland's Arms. 113 
 
 out of it so long as I live. I shall see my lands over- 
 run and wasted, my great castles thrown down and 
 destroyed, and my people distressed and slain ; and as 
 for myself I shall have to die and all this for a fault 
 which is none of mine, and for a deed which I have 
 neither wished nor sanctioned." 
 
 "And the words of Duke Fromont were true," added 
 the story-teller as he brought his story to an end. 
 " The death of Bego of Belin was fearfully avenged by 
 his brother the Lorrainer and by his young sons Gerin 
 and Hernaud. Never was realm so impoverished as 
 was Fromont's dukedom. The Lorrainers and the 
 Gascons overran and laid waste the whole country. 
 A pilgrim might go six days' journey without finding 
 bread, or meat, or wine. The crucifixes lay prone upon 
 the ground ; the grass grew upon the altars ; and no 
 man stopped to plead with his neighbor. Where had 
 been fields and houses, and fair towns and lordly castles, 
 now there was nought but woods and underbush and 
 thorns. And old Duke Fromont, thus ruined through 
 no fault of his own, bewailed his misfortunes, and said 
 to his friends, 'I have not land enough to rest upon 
 alive, or to lie upon dead.' "
 
 ii4 The Story p/ Roland. 
 
 ADVENTURE X. 
 
 A ROLAND FOR AN OLIVER. 
 
 CHARLEMAGNE held high festival at Paris. It was in 
 thanksgiving for the victories with which his arms had 
 everywhere been blessed. Once more the foes of Chris- 
 tendom had been driven from Christian soil ; once more 
 did peace and prosperity seem to smile upon France. 
 And he had called together the worthiest barons and 
 warriors of his kingdom to award to each some fitting 
 recompense for his services and good faith. Among 
 the knights who had come together at this time was old 
 Count Gerard, the grandfather of Oliver, and one of the 
 most powerful barons of France. He had come to 
 renew his homage for his ancient fief of Viana ; and he 
 hoped that the king, as a reward for his lifelong services, 
 would grant him now the vacant fief of Burgundy. 
 But, from some reason best known to himself, Charle- 
 magne failed to invest him with the wished-for duke- 
 dom. Some say that it was zjl the result of an awkward 
 accident. The count, they s ay, after doing homage for 
 Viana, stooped, as was the custom in those times, to 
 kiss the king's foot. But, greatly to his chagrin, he
 
 A Roland for an Oliver. 1 1 5 
 
 stumbled, and his lips touched the foot of the queen, 
 who was sitting by the side of Charlemagne. The 
 knights who stood around were much amused, and 
 could not forbear laughing at the unlucky count ; but 
 the king, in anger, told him that the fief of Burgundy 
 had already been granted to a younger and more cour- 
 teous knight, and that he must content himself with 
 Viana until he had learned better manners. Count 
 Gerard, boiling over with rage, turned upon his heel, 
 and strode out of the palace. He called his men to- 
 gether, mounted his horse, and set out with all speed 
 for Viana. 
 
 It matters not whether this story be true or not, we 
 know that Count Gerard rebelled against the king, 
 and declared, that, for the affront which Charlemagne 
 had offered him, he would no longer be his man, nor 
 pay him tribute. He shut himself up in the strong- 
 hold of Viana, which he victualled and strengthened 
 with great care, and made ready for a long and a close 
 siege. He sent also to his brother Miles of Apulia and 
 to his son Rainier of Genoa, craving their help. Miles 
 came with a thousand men bearing shields ; and Rainier, 
 with two thousand crossbow-men. With Rainier came 
 also his son Oliver, boldest of warriors, and his daugh- 
 ter Alda, beautiful as a Persian peri, brave as a Saxon 
 valkyrie. 
 
 Great indeed was the siege which Charlemagne 
 placed around Viana : none ever saw the like before. 
 And he vowed that he would never leave it, nor give up
 
 n6 The Story of Roland. 
 
 the contest, until the proud Gerard should be humbled 
 in the dust before him. For nine weeks he besieged 
 the stronghold, and allowed no one to come in or to go 
 out ; and yet so well supplied was the garrison with all 
 things needful for life and comfort that they cared but 
 little for the blockade. Neither besiegers nor besieged 
 spared any pains to annoy one another. If Charle- 
 magne's warriors dared approach too near the walls, they 
 were driven back by a shower of arrows from the cross- 
 bows of the sharp-sighted Genoans. If the men of Viana 
 ventured outside of the gates, or beyond the moat, a 
 troop of fleet horsemen drove them back at the point of 
 the lance. Sometimes the besieged would make a bold 
 sally, and attack their foes in the open plain ; sometimes 
 the besiegers would try to take the stronghold by storm. 
 But day after day went by, the summer passed, and 
 autumn came, and the war seemed no nearer at an end. 
 
 Sometimes the Lady Alda stood upon the ramparts, 
 and cheered the besieged, or helped to throw down 
 stones and other missiles upon the heads of those who 
 were trying to scale the walls. And once, dressed in 
 full armor, she ventured out at the head of the Vianese, 
 and boldly charged upon the besiegers. One day, 
 Roland, seeing the fair lady standing upon the wall, 
 rode up within call, and asked her her name. 
 
 " My name is Alda," she answered, " and my grand- 
 father is the Count Gerard." 
 
 " And my name is Roland," said the hero, " and my , 
 uncle is King Charlemagne. Never have I seen a
 
 A Roland for an Oliver. 117 
 
 warrior-maiden fairer or nobler than thou. Never will 
 I cease to love and to woo thee, though it should be 
 at the cost of my life." 
 
 The next morning Roland fully armed, with his hawk 
 perched on his wrist, rode down toward the Rhone. In 
 the garden, beneath the walls of the fortress, he saw a 
 mallard sitting. Thinking to have some sport, he 
 loosed the hawk from his arm. High into the air the 
 creature sprang ; round and round above his head it 
 circled, looking down in search of prey. It saw the 
 mallard in the garden, and, quick as an arrow, darted 
 down upon it. But, after it had struck the unoffending 
 bird to the ground, it seemed not at all anxious to come 
 back to its master. In vain did Roland whistle and 
 call : as if knowing that it was beyond his reach, it sat 
 on the branch of an apple-tree, and quietly plumed its 
 feathers. A knight in the castle, seeing the hawk, and 
 wishing to have it for his own, came out into the garden 
 to call it. He was armed from head to foot, and his 
 visor was closed, and a long red plume waved from his 
 helmet's crest. The bird heard his call, and flew to 
 him, and alighted upon his wrist. A noble bird it was, 
 the falcon which Roland petted and prized more than 
 any other. 
 
 Roland spurred his steed, and rode as near to the 
 walls as a prudent fear of the crossbow-men would 
 allow. " Sir knight," cried he very courteously, " give 
 me back my bird, and you shall have fifteen pounds 
 of gold!"
 
 u8 The Story of Roland. 
 
 "Nay," answered the Knight of the Red Plume. 
 " Not for a hundred pounds would I give him to you. 
 I have taken him fairly, as the spoils of war, and I 
 mean to keep him. No usurer shall buy me with gold." 
 
 Then Roland again put spurs to his horse, and, heed- 
 ing not the threats of the crossbow-men upon the bat- 
 tlements, he rode boldly across the field, and paused 
 not until he stood within ten paces of the strange 
 knight, and close to the castle wall. But the visors of 
 both warriors were closed, and neither could see the 
 other's face. 
 
 Very courteously, as became a well-taught knight, 
 Roland asked the other his name. 
 
 " Vassal," answered he, " my name is my own, and I 
 give it not to strangers or to foes. You may call me 
 the Knight of the Red Plume." 
 
 " Friend," said Roland, " I seek no quarrel with you. 
 Give me my bird, carry it no farther, and we shall 
 part in peace, to meet, perhaps, as foes another time." 
 
 " Ah, indeed ! " answered the stranger-knight with 
 a sneer. "Truly, you should be my henchman. A 
 brave man you seem to be! If you will serve me a 
 year and a day, you shall be knighted, and shall have 
 either land, or fee, or burgh, or castle, as your valor 
 shall deserve." 
 
 Roland was deeply angered by these taunting words, 
 and he drew his sword half out of its scabbard. But 
 then he remembered that he had vowed not to cross 
 weapons that day with any foe.
 
 A Roland for an Oliver. 1 1 9 
 
 "Vassal!" cried he, rising in his stirrups, "I pray 
 you that for love you give me the bird ; and I promise 
 you that if, after to-day, you ask aught of satisfaction 
 from me, it shall be as you wish." 
 
 " The hawk is yours," answered the knight, loosing 
 the bird, and handing it to Roland. " Willingly I give 
 it you. But remember your promise." 
 
 "Truly it shall not be forgotten," answered Roland. 
 
 And the two knights parted. 
 
 Week after week passed by, and still the wearisome 
 siege continued. Some say that Charlemagne was 
 encamped around Viana for seven years, but I think it L 
 could not have been more than seven months. Never- 
 theless, the whole country, for leagues on every side, 
 was laid waste; and what had once been a blooming 
 garden was now in a fair way to become a desert. 
 The vineyards had been destroyed ; the orchards had 
 been cut down ; the houses of the country-folk had been 
 burned and destroyed. Great, indeed, was the distress 
 caused by this quarrel between the king and the count ; 
 but the distress fell upon neither king nor count, but 
 upon the innocent and the helpless. Ah, how cruel 
 is war ! 
 
 The king allowed neither wind nor rain to turn him 
 aside from his purpose, or to make him forget his vow ; 
 and all winter long his men sat by their camp-fires, and 
 surlily guarded the approaches to Viana. At length, 
 however, Eastertide drew on apace; and the woods
 
 1 2o The Story of Roland. 
 
 began to grow green again, and the flowers sprang up 
 in the meadows, and the birds sang soft and sweet. 
 And many knights bethought them then how idly and 
 vainly their time was being spent in this fruitless war 
 against one of their own number ; and they longed to 
 ride away in quest of other and more worthy adven- 
 tures. The king tried hard to press the siege and to 
 bring it to a speedy close, but in vain. The watchful 
 and valiant crossbow-men held the besiegers at bay, 
 and obliged them to keep their accustomed goodly dis- 
 tance from the walls. 
 
 One day a party of strange knights rode into the 
 camp, and asked to see the king without delay. They 
 came from the mountain land which borders France on 
 the south ; and they brought stirring news, news 
 which aroused the zeal of every loyal Christian warrior. 
 Marsilius, the Pagan king of Spain, they said, had 
 crossed the Pyrenees with a great host of Saracens, and 
 was carrying fire and sword and dire distress into the 
 fairest provinces of Southern France. Unless Charle- 
 magne should come quickly to the help of his people, 
 all Aquitaine and Gascony would be lost, and the Pagans 
 would possess the richest portion of his kingdom. 
 
 The king was much troubled when he heard these 
 tidings, and he called his peers together to ask their 
 advice. All declared at once in favor of raising the 
 siege of Viana, of making some sort of peace with 
 Gerard, and marching without delay against the invad- 
 ers. But Charlemagne remembered, that, before under-
 
 A Roland for an Oliver. 121 
 
 taking the siege of Viana, he had vowed not to desist 
 until Count Gerard was humbled in the dust at his 
 feet. 
 
 " I have an oath in heaven," said he, " and I must U 
 not break it. This traitor Gerard shall not be spared." 
 
 "Which were better," asked Duke Ganelon mildly, 
 " to forget a vow which was made too hastily, or to sit 
 here helpless, and see all Christendom trodden under 
 the feet of accursed Saracens ? " 
 
 " It seems to me," said sage Duke Namon, " that the 
 present business might be speedily ended by leaving it 
 to the judgment of God. Count Gerard knows noth- 
 ing of the straits that you are in : he cannot have heard 
 of this invasion by the Saracens ; and he will gladly 
 agree to any arrangement that will bring your quarrel 
 with him to an honorable end. Let two knights be 
 chosen by lot, one from each party, and let the combat 
 between them decide the question between you and 
 Count Gerard." 
 
 Charlemagne and his peers were much pleased with 
 this plan ; and a messenger with a truce-flag was sent 
 into the fortress to propose the same to Count Gerard. 
 The men of Viana were not only heartily tired of fight- 
 ing against the king, but they foresaw, that, if the siege 
 were kept up much longer, they would be obliged to 
 surrender for want of food ; for their provisions were 
 already beginning to run low. So they very gladly 
 agreed to leave the whole matter to the decision of 
 Heaven ; and, as they numbered among them some cf
 
 122 The Story of Roland. 
 
 the bravest and most skilful swordsmen in Christendom, 
 they had little doubt but that the judgment would be 
 in their favor. 
 
 When the messenger came back to Charlemagne 
 with Count Gerard's answer, the king and his peers at 
 once drew lots in order to determine which one of their 
 number should be their champion. The lot fell upon 
 Roland ; and to him was assigned the danger and the 
 honor of maintaining the dignity and authority of the 
 king, and of deciding a question which many months 
 of warfare and siege had failed to settle. 
 
 Early the following morning Roland was ferried over 
 to an island meadow in the Rhone, where the knight 
 who had been chosen by the Vianese folk to oppose 
 him was already waiting. He was surprised to see that 
 it was the Knight of the Red Plume, the same with 
 whom he had talked in the garden beneath the castle- 
 walls. Roland was well armed ; but instead of his own 
 shield he carried another, which the king had given 
 him one wide and thick, but new and untried; yet 
 his good sword, Durandal the terror, slept in its sheath 
 by his side, and with it alone he would have felt sure 
 of victory. The Knight of the Red Plume had armed 
 himself with the greatest care. His war-coat had been 
 wrought by the famed smith, the good Jew Joachim, 
 and was said to be proof against the stroke of the best- 
 tempered sword. The hauberk which he wore was the 
 one which King ^Eneas, ages before, had won from the 
 Greeks on the plains of Troy. His buckler was of fish-
 
 A Roland for an Oliver. 123 
 
 skin from the great salt sea, stretched on a frame of 
 iron, and hard enough to turn the edge of any common 
 sword. 
 
 On one bank of the river stood the friends of Roland, 
 anxious to see how the young hero would acquit him- 
 self, and yet not at all fearful of the result. On the 
 other side were Count Gerard and Miles and Rainier, 
 and the bravest knights and the fairest ladies of Viana. 
 And among these last, the fairest of all was Alda, the 
 daughter of Rainier, and the sister of Oliver. Very 
 beautiful was she to look upon. A coronet of pearls 
 encircled her brows ; golden was her hair, which fell in 
 rich ringlets on her shoulders ; blue were her eyes as 
 the eyes of moulted falcon ; fresh was her face, and 
 rosy as dawn of a summer's day ; white were her hands, 
 her fingers long and slender ; her feet well shaped and 
 small. The red blood had risen to her face. Eagerly 
 she waited the beginning of the fray. Roland, when 
 he saw her, trembled as he had never trembled before 
 an enemy. 
 
 The signal for the onset was given. The two knights 
 put spurs to their steeds, and dashed toward each other 
 with the fury of tigers and the speed of the wind. The 
 lances of both were shivered in pieces against the op- 
 posi ig shields, but neither was moved from his place in 
 his saddle. Quickly, then, they dismounted, and drew 
 their swords. How Durandal flashed in the light of 
 the morning sun ! Now did the hlemet that the good 
 Jew Joachim had made do good service for the red-
 
 1 24 The Story of Roland. 
 
 plumed knight. The fair Alda is overcome with fear. 
 She hastens back to the castle. She goes to the chapel 
 to pray, and falls fainting at the foot of the altar. 
 Never before has there been seen so equal a fight. For 
 more than two hours the two knights thrust and parry, 
 ward and strike ; but neither gains the better of the 
 other. At last, however, the sword of the red-plumed 
 knight is broken by a too lusty blow upon Roland's 
 helmet : his shield, too, is split from top to bottom. He 
 has neither wherewith to fight, nor to defend himself, 
 yet he has made up his mind to die rather than to be 
 vanquished, and he stands ready to fight with his fists. 
 Roland is pleased to see such pluck, and he scorns to 
 take advantage of his foe's ill plight. 
 
 " Friend," said he right courteously, " full great is 
 your pride, and I love you for it. You have lost your 
 sword and your shield, while my good Durandal has 
 neither notch nor blemish. Nephew am I to the king 
 of France, and his champion I am to-day. Great shame 
 would be upon me, were I to slay an unarmed man 
 when he is in my power. Choose you now another 
 sword one to your own liking and a more trusty 
 shield, and meet me again as my equal." 
 
 Roland sat down upon the grass and rested himself, 
 while the red-plumed knight bade his squires bring him 
 another sword from the castle. Three swords were sent 
 over to him, that of Count Gerard, that of Rainier 
 the Genoese, and Haultclear, a blade which the Jew 
 Joachim had made, and which in old times had been 
 the sword of Closamont the emperor.
 
 A Roland for an Oliver. 125 
 
 The knight chose Haultclear. Roland rose from the 
 grass, and the fierce fight began again. Never were 
 weapons wielded with greater skill ; never was there a 
 nobler combat. The sun rose high in the heavens, and 
 the noontide hour came; and still each knight stood 
 firmly in his place, thrusting and parrying, striking and 
 warding, and gaining no vantage over his foe. After a 
 time, however, the patience of the red-plumed knight 
 gave out. He grew furious. He was anxious to bring 
 the combat to an end. He struck savagely at Roland ; 
 but the stroke was skilfully warded, and Haultclear 
 snapped short off near the handle. At the same time 
 Durandal, coming down with the force of a thunder- 
 bolt, buried itself so deeply in the shield of the red- 
 plumed knight, that Roland could not withdraw it. 
 
 Both knights were thus made weaponless ; but neither 
 was vanquished. Wrathfully they rushed together to 
 seize each other, to throw each other down. Moved by 
 the same thought, each snatched the other's helmet, 
 and lifted it from his head. Some say that a bright 
 cloud and an angel came down between them, and bade 
 them cease their strife ; but I know not whether this 
 be true, for, as they stood there, bareheaded, and face 
 to face, memories of their boyhood came back to them. 
 Both were struck dumb with astonishment for a moment. 
 Roland saw before him his loved brother-in-arms, Oliver. 
 Oliver, now no longer the red-plumed knight, recognized 
 his old friend Roland. Then they rushed into one 
 another's arms.
 
 126 The Story of Roland. 
 
 " I yield me ! " cried Roland. 
 
 " I yield me ! " cried Oliver. 
 
 Great was the wonder of Charlemagne and his peers 
 when they saw their champion thus giving up the fight 
 when victory seemed assured. Equally great was the 
 astonishment of the Vianese and of Oliver's kinsmen. 
 Knights and warriors from both sides of the river has- 
 tened to cross to the island. They were eager to know 
 the meaning of conduct seemingly so unknightly. But 
 when they came nearer, and saw the men, who had 
 fought each other so long and so valiantly, now stand- 
 ing hand in hand, and pledging anew their faith as 
 brothers-in-arms, every thing was made clear. And 
 with one voice all joined in declaring that both were 
 equally deserving of the victory. And Ogier the Dane 
 stood up, and said, that, although the question between 
 Charlemagne and Gerard was still unsettled, yet Roland 
 and Oliver had acquitted themselves in all things as 
 became true knights. 
 
 " Let him who would gainsay it speak now, or for- 
 ever hold his tongue ! " he cried. 
 
 But in all the host there was not one who wished to 
 break lances with Ogier, or to risk his displeasure by 
 disputing his word. 
 
 Then the folk of Viana went back to their castle- 
 prison, and their foes returned to their tents ; and each 
 party began anew to plan means by which this tiresome 
 and unprofitable war might be brought to an end. 
 
 Another week, and a fortnight, passed by, and every
 
 A Roland for an Oliver. 127 
 
 day messengers came to Charlemagne, telling of the 
 ravages of Marsilius the Moor, and begging him to 
 hasten to the aid of his people. Very willingly would 
 he have gone, and left Viana in peace, had it not been 
 for the remembrance of his vow. 
 
 " I cannot go," said he, " until this rebel Gerard is 
 humbled upon his knees before me." 
 
 One by one his knights, tired of inaction, and pre- 
 ferring to wage war against unbelievers rather than 
 against men of their own faith and nation, stole quietly 
 from the camp, and rode away toward the Pyrenees. 
 It seemed as if the king would be left, after a while, 
 to carry on the siege of Viana alone ; yet he never 
 faltered in his determination to perform his vow to 
 the very letter. 
 
 One day some huntsmen brought word to Charle- 
 magne that a fierce wild boar had been seen in Clare- 
 mont wood, and that he was now hiding in a thicket not 
 far from Viana. Ever eager for the chase, the king at 
 once mounted his horse, and, followed by his men and 
 his hounds, he hastened to the wood. It was not long 
 until the grim beast was driven from his lair ; and the 
 king, as was his wont, gave chase. Duke Gerard and 
 his knights, watching from the towers of Viana that 
 morning, had seen the kingly hunting-party ride out 
 into the wood. 
 
 " Let us have a hand in this hunt," said Rainier of 
 Genoa. " We might hunt for royal game ; and, could 
 we but take the king, we might end this war on our own 
 terms."
 
 128 The Story of Roland. 
 
 Count Gerard and the other nobles were pleased. 
 
 "I know a secret underground passage," said the 
 count, "which leads directly from the castle to the 
 wood. Once there, we might lie in wait in the thickets, 
 and waylay the king as he passes by." 
 
 The knights at once girded on their armor, hung 
 their shields to their necks, and took their bows and 
 arrows in hand. Then, led by two trusty squires, who 
 lighted the way with torches, they filed through the 
 long, dark tunnel, and came out in the midst of a briery 
 thicket in the wood of Claremont. The sound of the 
 baying hounds told them that the game was not far 
 away ; and soon, as good fortune would have it, the 
 hunted beast, furious with rage, rushed past them. 
 Very close behind him came Charlemagne, riding upon 
 his favorite hunting-steed, and so intent upon spearing 
 the boar, that he neither saw nor thought of any thing 
 else. The huntsmen and most of the hounds had been 
 left far behind. * 
 
 " Now is our time ! " cried Rainier. And, quick as 
 thought, five well-armed knights rushed out of the 
 thicket, and seized the king's charger by the reins, and 
 called upon him to surrender. Having only the wea- 
 pons of the chase, and being set upon so unexpectedly, 
 Charlemagne was no match for his stout assailants. 
 Quickly he was seized, and dragged from the saddle : 
 firmly but gently was he held by his captors. Then 
 Aymery of Narbonne, bloodthirsty, and at heart a trai- 
 tor, whispered to Count Gerard, and advised him to kill 
 the king.
 
 A Roland for an Oliver. 129 
 
 " With him out of our way," said he, " we shall be 
 free ; our fiefs shall be our own ; and no man shall claim 
 homage or tribute from us." 
 
 But the count pushed him aside with scorn. 
 
 " Shame on thee ! " he answered. "May it not please 
 God that ever king of France be killed by me : of him 
 I will hold my castle and my lands ! " And he knelt 
 humbly before the captive king. 
 
 Charlemagne's heart was touched by the words of 
 loyalty and good faith which fell from the lips of the 
 count. 
 
 "Gerard of Viana," he cried, "all this trouble be- 
 tween thee and me is ended and forgotten. If thou 
 hast harmed me, I freely forgive thee. No penny of 
 tribute shalt thou pay for land, or fief, or castle. Only 
 for the sake of my vow, renew thy homage." 
 
 Then Gerard ungirt his sword from his side, and 
 uncovered his head, and knelt again before the king, 
 and he placed%oth his hands between those of the 
 king, and said, 
 
 " From this day forward I become your man of life 
 and limb, and of all worldly worship ; and unto you I 
 will be loyal and true, and I will bear you faith for the 
 lands and the castles and the houses that I claim of 
 you. And to no other lord will I grant obedience, save 
 at your behest." 
 
 Then the king raised him gently from the ground, 
 and kissed him, and answered, 
 
 " Count of Viana, my man shalt thou be in life and
 
 1 30 The Story of Roland. 
 
 limb and worldly worship ; and to thee do I grant the 
 lands, the fiefs, and the castles of Viana, to have and 
 to hold without any payment of tribute, or any other* % 
 service save that which is given in honorable war." 
 
 Then the other knights, in the order of their rank, 
 came and knelt likewise before the king; and each 
 in his turn promised to be his man, first Rainier of 
 Genoa, then Miles of Apulia, then Oliver, and lastly the 
 headstrong Aymery of Narbonne. And the king forgave 
 each one all the wrong that he had ever done him, and 
 gave back to each all the lands and fiefs and tenements 
 and all the honors that he had held before. 
 
 " And now," said Charlemagne to Count Gerard, " I 
 will go with you, and sup with you to-night in your 
 lordly castle of Viana." 
 
 Great was the wonder of the Vianese when they saw 
 the king enter their halls, not as the prisoner, but as 
 the friend and guest, of the count. And great, indeed, 
 was the joy when it was known that peace had been 
 made, and that the wearisome siege was at an end. In 
 the broad feast-hall, a rich banquet was spread, and the 
 night was given up to feasting and music and merry- 
 making. And among the knights who sat at the table 
 there was none more noble or more handsome than 
 Oliver. And among the ladies who added grace and 
 beauty to the glad occasion not one was so fair as 
 Oliver's sister, the matchless Alda. 
 
 But in the tents of the besiegers that night there 
 was much disquietude and bewilderment. The hunts-
 
 A Roland for an Oliver. 131 
 
 men had sought in vain for Charlemagne in the wood ; 
 and, when they could not find him, they came back to 
 the camp, thinking that he had become wearied of the 
 chase, and had returned. On their way they had found 
 his horse grazing among the herbage, with the reirs 
 lying loose on his neck. Great now was their uneasi- 
 ness. Roland put himself at the head of fifty horse- 
 men, and scoured the country for miles around. But 
 as the darkness of night began to settle over the earth, 
 they were forced to return, sadder and more perplexed 
 than ever, to the camp. Many were the guesses which 
 were hazarded regarding this strange disappearance of 
 the king. Some thought that the wild boar, which was 
 known to be very large and fierce, might have turned 
 upon him, and torn him in pieces in the wood. Others 
 suggested that mayhap he had followed the example of 
 his barons, and ridden away from this dull siege to the 
 more active war against the Saracens ; but this did not 
 seem at all probable. The greater number were agreed 
 in believing that he had been waylaid and taken pris- 
 oner by the men of Viana. And all were for placing 
 themselves under the leadership of Roland, resolved, 
 that on the morrow they would make one grand assault 
 on the castle, and carry it, if possible, by storm. 
 
 The next morning, what was the astonishment of the 
 besiegers to see the gates of Viana thrown wide open, 
 and the men, to the number of two thousand; march out 
 with music playing, and banners flying, as if it were a 
 gay holiday ! But greater still was their wonder when
 
 132 The Story of Roland. 
 
 they saw that the knight who rode so grandly in the 
 van by the side of Count Gerard was their own loved 
 king. Roland, who at first was fearful that the Vianese 
 were plotting some treachery, had hastily drawn up his 
 warriors in line of battle, ready to defend the camp. 
 But Charlemagne, as soon as he had come near enough 
 to be heard, explained that peace had been made, and 
 that Count Gerard and the barons who were with him 
 in Viana had renewed their homage, and that all past 
 differences had been forgotten. 
 
 After this the king held his court for seven days in 
 the castle. of Viana; and the men who had so lately 
 been foes stood together in the halls as sworn friends, 
 loyal and true. And the days were given over to merry- 
 making. And Roland and Oliver, the long separated 
 brothers-in-arms, sat together in the hall and at the 
 feast-table, and talked of what had befallen them since 
 the day when they plighted their faith to each other 
 among the hills of Sutri. And, before the week had 
 passed, Roland and Alda, the sister of Oliver, were 
 betrothed. 1 
 
 1 &* Note 9 at the end of this volume.
 
 Reinold of Montalban. 
 
 ADVENTURE XL 
 
 REINOLD OF MONTALBAN. 
 
 MARSILIUS the Saracen had carried fire and sword 
 into the fairest provinces of Southern France. He had 
 pillaged the cities, and burned the towns, and ravaged 
 the fields, and what had once been the pleasantest and 
 most prosperous of Charlemagne's domains he had 
 turned into a smoking desert. The distressed people 
 had sent message after message to the king, begging 
 him to send them help; but he was too intent upon 
 besieging Viana, and too determined to redeem his vow 
 by humbling the haughty Count Gerard in the dust 
 before him. And as day after day passed by, and the 
 Pagans still continued to burn and destroy, the unhappy 
 folk began to lose all hope, and to fear that they had 
 been forgotten, and abandoned to the ruthless fury of 
 their Saracen foes. What, then, was their joy, when 
 the news was carried from mouth to mouth that the 
 siege of Viana had been raised, and that Charlemagne 
 and his knights were riding to their aid ! 
 
 Over hill, and through valley, and across desert wastes, 
 rode the kingly company ; and no one cared for weari-
 
 : 134 The Story of Roland. 
 
 ness, or for pain, or for hunger, so long as the Pagan- 
 folk threatened their land, and they were marching to 
 the -rescue. But, among all the knights and barons 
 in the French host, none were more impatient than the 
 three brothers-in-arms, Roland, and Oliver, and Ogier 
 the Dane. And when they reached that part of the 
 land which had been ravaged by Marsilius, and saw the 
 smoking ruins and deserted farm-lands, and distress 
 and death on every hand, they could no longer restrain 
 themselves. They longed for a chance to take ven- 
 geance upon the hated unbelievers. 
 
 "The army moves too slowly," said Roland to his 
 comrades. "Every day adds to the distress of our 
 people and to the fiendish triumph of our foes. Let us 
 ride on faster. We are mounted better than those who 
 follow us ; and while they are toiling among these hills 
 and over these ill-conditioned roads, we may, perhaps, 
 overtake and give battle to some part of the Pagan 
 host." 
 
 Not a moment did his brother-knights hesitate ; not 
 a word of dissent did they speak. They put spurs to 
 their steeds, and with a few trusty followers were soon 
 far in advance of the main army, determined, if possi- 
 ble, to come up with the enemy, and offer them battle. 
 
 Marsilius the Moor had no sooner heard of the peace 
 made at Viana, and of the coming of Charlemagne and 
 his warriors, than he ordered an immediate retreat into 
 Spain ; and he was now well on his way back to the 
 passes of the Pyrenees. Day after day Roland and his
 
 Reinold of Montalban. 
 
 comrades followed in the wake of the flying foe. Some- 
 times, on climbing to the top of a hill, they could see 
 the banners of the Pagan rear-guard far away, in ad- 
 vance of them. Sometimes, when a breeze came to 
 them from the west, they could hear the tramp of the 
 Moorish horse, or the rough cries of the Moorish sol- 
 diery. But, ride as fast as their steeds would carry 
 them, they could not overtake the enemy, who, it seems, 
 were mounted as well as they. And at last, when the 
 great mountain wall of the Pyrenees rose up in front 
 of them, the Pagan host had already entered one of the 
 passes, and had crossed safely over into Spain. The 
 heroes were greatly disappointed because the foe had 
 thus escaped them ; yet they deemed it the better 
 part of valor to give up the pursuit, and to ride back 
 to Charlemagne and his host, who were still ad- 
 vancing among the hills and valleys of Southern 
 Gascony. 
 
 The king received the news of the escape of Mar- 
 silius with a much better grace than they expected. 
 
 " I am glad that he is well out of our way," said he ; 
 " for now I shall have but one foe to deal with, instead 
 of two." 
 
 They asked him what he meant. 
 
 "Five leagues from here," said he, "is the strong- 
 hold of Montalban, where my rebel nephew, Reinold, 
 has taken refuge, with his brothers and all the discon- 
 tented barons of Southern France, and from whence he 
 gives aid and comfort to our Pagan foes. I will not
 
 The Story of Roland. 
 
 rest until I have razed Montalban to the ground, and 
 punished ray nephews as they deserve." 
 
 Not long afterward the host came in sight of the 
 
 j/ marble walls of Montalban, glistening in the sunlight 
 
 like a white star on the mountain tops. But who was 
 
 this rebel, Reinold, who dwelt in this princely castle 
 
 on the border-lands of France ? I will tell you. 
 
 In the earlier years of Charlemagne's reign, the 
 noblest among the barons at his court was Duke Aymon 
 of Ardennes. Aymon had married Aya, the sister of 
 Charlemagne ; and he had four sons Allard, Guichard, 
 Richard, and Reinold and a daughter named Brada- 
 mant. Upon a time Charlemagne held a high festival, 
 and ordered that all his noblest vassals should come 
 and do him homage. All who had been summoned 
 were there, save Sir Bevis of Aigremont, the brother 
 of Duke Aymon. The king was very angry that any of 
 his barons should neglect the duty of renewing his hom- 
 age. He vowed that he would not only take away all 
 the fiefs and estates of Sir Bevis, but that he would 
 have him hanged as a traitor. Duke Namon, ever far- 
 sighted and just, persuaded him to try peaceful meas- 
 ures first, and to send an embassy to the absent knight, 
 summoning him the second time. Charlemagne sent, 
 therefore, his own son, Lothaire, with four hundred 
 chosen warriors, to demand the renewal of homage from 
 Sir Bevis. But Sir Bevis had resolved that he would no 
 longer be the vassal of the king, and that he would 
 hold his fiefs in his own right and by his own strength.
 
 Reinold of Montalban. 137 
 
 So he caused Lothaire to be waylaid in the forest of 
 Ardennes, and slain. Very great was the anger and 
 the grief of Charlemagne when the news of this treach- 
 erous act was brought to him. Without any delay he 
 summoned his host, and marched in full force against 
 Aigremont. But Duke Aymon and his four sons did 
 not follow the standard of the king. They preferred 
 to join themselves with the rebel Sir Bevis ; and this 
 was the beginning of the great trouble which arose 
 between them and Charlemagne. Not long after this, a 
 battle was fought, and the rebels were routed with great 
 slaughter ; and Sir Bevis and Duke Aymon came bare- 
 footed into the presence of the king, and humbly craved 
 his mercy. Charlemagne agreed to pardon them if they 
 would come to Paris and renew their homage. But 
 Ganelon, ever bent upon mischief, upbraided the king 
 for his forbearance toward his enemies. 
 
 " Much love had you for your son Lothaire ! " said he. 
 " His blood, spilled in the wood of Ardennes, still calls 
 for vengeance upon his murderers. But his father is 
 deaf : he cannot hear those cries." 
 
 And he persuaded the king to waylay and kill Sir 
 Bevis while on his way to Paris. Duke Aymon and his 
 sons, therefore, again took up arms against Charlemagne, 
 and a long and cruel war between them followed. 
 
 Now, Duke Aymon had a wonderful horse, named 
 Bayard, the noblest steed in all the world. Very 
 large and strong was he; and he could run with the 
 speed of the winds ; and he was very wise and knowing
 
 138 The Story of Roland. 
 
 One day this horse was missed from his stall ; and, 
 although the duke ordered all the country around the 
 castle to be searched, no one remembered having seen 
 the missing steed, and he was not to be found anywhere. 
 Very sad was Duke Aymon. He would liever have lost 
 a thousand men, or even the best of his castles, than 
 this horse. While he was musing over his misfortunes, 
 the dwarf Malagis, who was his cousin, and always a 
 firm friend of his house, stood before him. 
 
 " Ah, cousin Malagis ! " said the duke. " Thou art 
 the very man I wished most to see. Thou hast the 
 gift of witchcraft, and thou canst tell me where my 
 Bayard is." 
 
 " Indeed I can ! " answered the dwarf. " I saw him 
 carried off last night by goblins. And he is now hid- 
 ien and imprisoned in the smoky caverns of Mount 
 Vulcanus." 
 
 "And can nothing be done to bring him back?" 
 asked the duke. "Without my horse I am ruined." 
 
 " I will bring him back to you," said the wizard. And 
 before the duke could say a word, he had walked out of 
 the gate, and was hastening across the country toward 
 Mount Vulcanus. 
 
 After a toilsome journey of many days, Malagis came 
 to the great smoky mountain of Vulcanus ; and without 
 fear or hesitation he climbed down the broad chimney- 
 way, and stood in the smoke-begrimed caverns and halls 
 where King Vulcan, the lame blacksmith of the Golden 
 Age, still held his court, although most of his kith and
 
 Reinold of Montalban. 139 
 
 kin had died long before. Very courteously did Malagis 
 greet the ruler of these doleful regions. 
 
 " Who art thou ? " asked Vulcan. " How darest thou, 
 who art only a puny mortal, come thus into the pres- 
 ence-chamber of the immortals ? " 
 
 "My name is Malagis," answered the dwarf, "and 
 among men I am known as a great wizard. But they 
 think nothing of my art. Little praise get I for all my 
 wisdom." 
 
 " Men are by nature thankless," said Vulcan. 
 
 " So they are," answered Malagis. " And for that 
 same reason I have left their abodes, and have come to 
 Uve with you, and to offer my services to you." 
 
 " What can you do ? " asked Vulcan. 
 
 " Try me and see," answered the wizard. 
 
 "Very well, then," said the old master-smith. "I 
 will give you a task that will put your cunning to the 
 test. A fortnight ago the mountain goblins, who are 
 the only servants I have nowadays, brought me a steed, 
 the most wonderful that was ever seen. The famed 
 horses of olden times were but very tame creatures 
 compared with him. He is wiser than the Centaurs, 
 swifter on foot than Pegasus was on the wing, fiercer 
 and wilder than Bucephalus, nobler than the fabled 
 Greyfell. Very fain would I ride out into the great 
 world mounted on the back of this steed, but he will 
 not let me come near him. Now, if you want to show 
 your skill as a magician, do you go to my stables, bridle 
 and saddle this untamable steed, and bring him here 
 that I may mount him."
 
 140 The Story of Roland. 
 
 " My lord," said the cunning dwarf, " I will try what 
 I can do with him." 
 
 When Malagis entered the stables, the fierce horse 
 ran toward him, angrily snapping and kicking. But the 
 wizard whispered, "Bayard, thy master Aymon wants 
 thee." At once the creature stopped. All the fierce- 
 ness of his nature seemed to leave him. He rubbed 
 his nose gently against the dwarf's shoulder, and whin- 
 nied softly, as if in answer to what had been spoken. 
 The next moment Malagis sprang upon the back of 
 Bayard. 
 
 "To Duke Aymon !" he cried. 
 
 At one bound the horse leaped out of the enclosure, 
 and was soon racing, with the speed of the wind, through 
 the mountain passes and the valleys, and the forests and 
 morasses, joyfully hastening back toward the well-known 
 wood of Ardennes. When the master-smith, Vulcan, 
 saw how he had been outwitted, he summoned his gob- 
 lin host, and sent them in pursuit of the daring wizard. 
 Forth from the smoking chimney of the mountain they 
 rushed ; swiftly through the air they were borne, riding 
 on the back of a huge storm-cloud. The winds roared, 
 lightning flashed, the thunder rolled, the air seemed 
 full of evil creatures. But Malagis rode fearlessly 
 onward, swifter than the storm-cloud, swifter than the 
 wind, and paused not once until he reached Duke 
 Aymon's castle. In the mean while the duke had met 
 with many sad misfortunes. He had been beaten in 
 battle, and his best men had been slain. Some in whom
 
 Reinold of Montalban. 141 
 
 he had trusted as friends had deserted him. He was 
 on the point of giving up the struggle, and throwing 
 himself upon the mercy of Charlemagne. Great, then, 
 was his joy when he saw the faithful Malagis return 
 with Bayard. 
 
 " My wise, trusted cousin ! " he cried. " My noble 
 war-steed ! Once more fortune smiles upon me." 
 
 And fortune did smile upon him. The neighboring 
 barons came to his help, and many a stronghold and 
 many a fair province of France acknowledged his mas- 
 tership. At length Charlemagne, tired of the profitless 
 war, offered to make peace with Duke Aymon. He 
 promised to give back to his rebellious vassal all the 
 fiefs, all the lands and castles and burghs, that he had 
 held before, and to receive him again at court with all 
 the honors due to a brother-in-law of the king. 
 
 "And what compensation will he offer for the death 
 of my brother Sir Bevis ? " asked the proud duke. 
 
 " He will pay thee four times the weight of the mur- 
 dered Bevis in gold," answered the king's messengers. 
 
 "It is not enough," answered Aymon. "My brother 
 was a gentle and right noble baron, and no paltry blood- 
 fine such as is paid for the death of a common knight 
 will suffice. Let the gold be six times the weight of 
 the slain Sir Bevis. On no other terms will I make 
 peace." 
 
 When Duke Aymon's answer was carried to Charle- 
 magne, the king for a long time hesitated, for he liked 
 not the payment of so heavy a blood-fine. But at last,
 
 142 The Story oj Roland. 
 
 through the advice of the wise Namon, peace was con- 
 cluded ; and Aymon and his four sons, now all stalwart 
 young knights, were restored to their old places of 
 trust and honor. But Aymon could not rest in idle- 
 ness ; neither did he love peace. He longed to do some 
 great deed of arms that would make his name known 
 and feared among men. So at last, when he could no 
 longer endure the life of inaction which he was obliged 
 to lead in France, he crossed over the Pyrenees into 
 Spain, and engaged in warfare with the Moors. 
 
 For many years no news of Duke Aymon was car- 
 ried back to France, and the Princess Aya and her four 
 sons mourned him as dead. But one day there came 
 a messenger to Ardennes, saying that the long-absent 
 duke was lying ill at an inn in Gascony, and that he 
 prayed to see once more his wife and children. With- 
 out delay, Aya and her sons hastened to his side. They 
 found not the stalwart warrior as they had last seen 
 him, but a feeble old man, gray-bearded, tanned, and 
 weather-beaten. Yet Aya recognized in him her long- 
 errant husband, and the three elder sons embraced 
 him tenderly as their father. But Reinold stood back, 
 doubtfully hesitating. 
 
 "Who is this worn-out warrior?" asked he. "Me- 
 thinks he cannot be my father ; for Duke Aymon is a 
 hero, and this is but a man of common mould." 
 
 "Young man," said Aymon sitting upright in his 
 bed, " if you remember not my face, look upon this ring, 
 which your mother gave me in the days of our youth ;
 
 Reinold of Montalban. 143 
 
 look, too, upon these scars, which were given me in 
 battle, and which you certainly cannot have forgotten." 
 
 "And think you that I would be deceived?" asked 
 Aya. " Never was there a nobler duke than your father." 
 
 "Yes, mother," cried Reinold, "I know him now." 
 And he seized his father in his arms, and squeezed him 
 so heartily, that the old warrior was glad to be released. 
 
 Duke Aymon brought great wealth from Spain, and 
 divided it equally among the Princess Aya and his three 
 eldest sons. But to Reinold he gave as his portion 
 the horse Bayard and the sword Flamberge. With kind 
 nursin g and constant care, his strength came back, and 
 in a few weeks he was well enough to return with his 
 family to his old home in Ardennes. 
 
 Not long after this the king held a great tournament - 
 at Aix ; and the bravest warriors, the noblest knights, 
 and the fairest ladies of the land, were there. To this 
 tournament went the four sons of Aymon, glorying in 
 their strength and skill ; and save Roland, and Ogier 
 the Dane, there were none who dared hold a lance to 
 them, or make trial with them of any knightly feats of 
 arms. The young men about the court looked upon 
 them with feelings of bitter jealousy ; and Chariot the 
 king's son, and Bertholais his nephew, plotted how they 
 might bring them to grief. And Ganelon the mischief- 
 maker, when they asked his advice, said, 
 
 " Challenge one of the brothers to a contest. If you 
 gain the better of him, it will be easy to slay him as if " 
 it were by accident."
 
 J44 Th* Story of Roland. 
 
 " That would be too great a risk," answered Chariot. 
 " The sons of Aymon have not their equals in the lists, 
 and not one of them has yet been worsted. The praises 
 of the hated Reinold are in the mouths of all those 
 who attended the tournament yesterday, and they say 
 that his brothers are as skilful and as strong as he." 
 
 Ganelon smiled, and stood for a moment silent. Then 
 he Said, " It is not likely that they excel in all kinds of 
 games. A good jouster is not commonly a good chess- 
 player. Now, what I advise you to do is this : do you, 
 Bertholais, send a challenge to Allard, the eldest of the 
 brothers, to play a quiet game with you, and let each of 
 you wager his head on the result. You have never been 
 beaten at chess, and it is not possible that you should 
 be. ty this means you may rid yourselves of one of 
 the brothers, and at the same time disgrace the others." 
 
 Chariot and Bertholais were delighted with the cun- 
 ning words of Ganelon, and at once sent a challenge to 
 Allard. But Allard was loath to play a game on condi- 
 tions such as those. He was not afraid for his own 
 sake ; but he said, that, if he should win, he would not 
 wish to harm the head of his cousin Bertholais. 
 
 " Thou art a coward ! " said Chariot. " Thou fearest 
 for thine own head ! " 
 
 Then at last the young hero, much against his will, 
 agreed to play with Bertholais. 
 
 They sat down at the table to play. On one side 
 stood the three umpires chosen by Allard : they were 
 Roland, Ogier the Dane, and Duke Namon. On the
 
 Remold of Montalban. 145 
 
 other side stood the friends of Bertholais, Chariot, 
 Ganelon, and young Pinabel of Mayence. The chess- 
 men with which Allard played were of silver, but 
 those of Bertholais were golden. Five games were 
 played ; and, much to the astonishment of all, the boast- 
 ful Bertholais was checkmated in every one. Then 
 Allard arose from the table. 
 
 " I shall not claim the stakes," said he mildly. " I 
 played only for the sake of my own life and good name. 
 And on no account would I harm the head of the prince 
 my cousin." 
 
 Bertholais was boiling over with wrath. He seized 
 the chessboard, and struck Allard in the face with all 
 his might. Blood flowed from the mouth and nose of 
 the hero, and ran down upon his clothing. Yet, not 
 wishing to provoke a greater quarrel, he turned about, 
 and left the room. As he crossed the courtyard, he 
 met his brother Reinold. Great was the wrath of Rei- 
 nold when he heard what had happened. 
 
 " Saddle your horses, and be ready to ride with me ! " 
 he cried to his brothers and friends. " Allard, my good 
 fellow, I will have the stakes for which you played ! " 
 
 Boldly he walked into the presence-chamber of the 
 king. 
 
 "I have come," said he, "to claim the blood-fine that 
 is due for the death of my uncle Bevis. Six times his 
 weight in gold was promised, but it has never been 
 paid." 
 
 It was now Charlemagne's turn to be angry. He
 
 146 The Story of Roland. 
 
 said not a word ; but he pulle d off his steel gauntlet, 
 and threw it into the face of the too bold Reinold. 
 
 "If thou wert not the king," said the knight, "thou 
 shouldst fight me on that challenge." 
 
 As he left the hall, he met the unlucky Bertholais. 
 He drew his sword Flamberge, and with one stroke 
 severed the prince's head from his body. A great 
 uproar arose in the palace, but no one seemed to know 
 what to do. 
 
 " Seize the villain ! " cried Charlemagne. " He shall 
 be hanged as a vile thief and murderer." 
 
 But his brethren were in the courtyard, already 
 mounted ; and Bayard was there, waiting to carry him, 
 swifter than the wind, out of harm's way. At once 
 there was a great hue and cry. A thousand men- 
 at-arms, mounted on the fleetest steeds, gave chase. 
 Reinold might have escaped, but he would not leave 
 his brothers. Outside of the city they were overtaken. 
 A desperate fight took place. All the followers of the 
 four brothers were either slain or taken, prisoners ; and 
 all their horses, save Bayard alone, were killed. Seeing 
 matters in so desperate a strait, Reinold bade his 
 brothers mount behind him on Bayard's long back. 
 Quickly they obeyed him ; and the noble horse galloped 
 away with the speed of a storm-cloud, bearing his four- 
 fold burden far beyond the reach of Charlemagne's 
 avengeful anger. 1 
 
 For seven years did the four brothers wander as out- 
 
 1 See Note 10 at the end of this volume.
 
 Reinold of Montalban. 147 
 
 laws in the wood of Ardennes. Their father, Duke 
 Aymon, was loyal to the king, and would not give them 
 aught of comfort or of aid. Great was their poverty 
 and distress, and they suffered much from hunger and 
 cold and wretchedness. But the wonderful horse Bay- 
 ard was their best friend : he kept as big and as fat as 
 ever, and thrived as well on dry leaves as other horses 
 do on oats and corn. At last the brothers, tired of 
 living where every man's hand seemed to be raised 
 against them, escaped from the wood of Ardennes, and 
 came into the border-land of Spain. There they sought 
 the friendship and protection of a Moorish chief named 
 Ivo. Right gladly did the Pagans receive them, for the 
 fame of their daring had gone before them. They were 
 taken into the household of Ivo, and for three years 
 they served him loyally and well. And so great was the 
 favor with which the Moor looked upon Reinold, that 
 he gave him his only daughter Clarissa in marriage, and 
 the richest lands among the Pyrenees as a fief. And 
 Reinold built on one of the hills a beautiful and strong 
 fortress of white marble which he called Montalban. 
 And there he gathered around him a great number of 
 warriors, knights, and adventurers, Pagans, as well as 
 Christians, and set himself up as the king of the 
 conntry round about. And oftentimes he had given aid 
 to the Moors in their wars against^Charlemagne. 
 
 And now the king had resolved, if possible, to humble 
 his outlawed nephews, and to punish them for their
 
 148 The Story of Roland. 
 
 crimes and rebellious doings. And it was for this rea- 
 son, that, as we have seen, he halted in his pursuit of 
 Marsilius and his host, and made ready to besiege 
 Montalban.
 
 Malagis the Wizard. 149 
 
 ADVENTURE XII. 
 
 MALAGIS THE WIZARD. 
 
 FOR a whole month the host of Charlemagne lay 
 encamped in the neighborhood of Montalban. But the 
 proud white castle which shone so clear upon the 
 mountain top was so strongly fortified, and the roads 
 which led to it were so steep and narrow, that it was 
 impossible to reach even its outer walls. Nor could 
 they by any means shut up the garrison, or hinder them 
 from getting food and recruits from their Pagan friends 
 on the other side of the moutains. 
 
 " It is folly to besiege the eagle in his eyry," said 
 Roland. 
 
 " You speak wisely," answered the king. " And 
 while we are here idly watching this stronghold, where 
 four rebels lie secure, a score of other traitors are 
 plotting mischief in other parts of our kingdom. To- 
 morrow we will try a stratagem ; and, if then we fail, 
 we will give up this undertaking, and hie us back to 
 Paris." 
 
 The next morning the watchman who stood above the 
 gates of Montalban saw the French army on the move.
 
 150 The Story of Roland. 
 
 A long line of steel-clad warriors, with the golden Ori- 
 flamme at their head, filed slowly past the foot of the 
 mountain, and turned down the valley-road which led 
 back into France. 
 
 " Up, Reinold ! " cried Allard. " Our enemies have 
 abandoned the siege ! Outwitted and ashamed, they 
 go back to their homes. Let us saddle our steeds, and 
 follow in their wake, and harass them on the road." 
 
 " Do no such thing ! " said the dwarf Malagis. " They 
 would draw you away from your safe stronghold, and 
 lead you into an ambush. Let them march away 
 quietly ; and, when they see that you are too wise to fall 
 into their trap, they will return into France, and annoy 
 you no more. The king has enough to do to attend to 
 his affairs at Paris, without wasting the whole summer 
 here." 
 
 Through all their troubles, Malagis had been the firm 
 friend of his cousins, the four sons of Aymon. And 
 he was able sometimes to be of great use to them ; for 
 men looked upon him as a being of more than human 
 power and knowledge, and he was allowed to pass 
 from place to place, and from camp to camp, without 
 question and without hinderance. Sometimes he was 
 with Charlemagne, sometimes he was with the brothers ; 
 but oftener he was wandering hither and thither in 
 company, as men believed, with his kinsfolk, the 
 wood-sprites and the mountain goblins. 
 
 "Thou sayest wisely, my elfin cousin," said Reinold. 
 " But, now that our foes have left us once more in quiet,
 
 Malagis the Wizard. 151' 
 
 there is one duty that I must do without delay. It is 
 full ten years since I saw my mother, the Princess Aya. 
 Above all things else in life, I long to see her once 
 more ; and I know that her tender heart yearns to meet 
 her wayward sons again. I will dress me in a pilgrim's 
 garb; and I will go now to the old home at Dordon, 
 and make myself known to her." 
 
 " We will go with you ! " cried all three of his 
 brothers. 
 
 A few days after this, four humble pilgrims stood at 
 the gate of the castle at Dordon. So poor they were, 
 that there was scarcely a whole thread of cloth on their 
 backs; and they seemed footsore with their long jour- 
 neying, and weak from much fasting. They begged, 
 that, for the love of Him who died on the cross, they 
 might be given a crust of bread, and be allowed to rest 
 for the night on the hard stones of the kitchen-floor. 
 The gentle Aya, when she was told how they stood at 
 the gate, bade them to be brought into her presence. 
 Much affrighted was she at their haggard faces, and 
 bold, determined looks. 
 
 "These are no common pilgrims," said she; and yet 
 her heart was strangely moved toward them. And she 
 gave them food and clothing, and saw that every thing 
 was done that could add to their comfort. 
 
 "This I do," said she, "for the love of God, the 
 Gentle Father, who I pray may save my sons from dan- 
 ger and death. For I have not seen them these ten 
 years."
 
 152 The Story of Roland. 
 
 " How is that ? " asked one of the pilgrims. " Tell 
 us about your sons." 
 
 Then Aya began to tell the story of the sad misfor- 
 tunes that had driven her sons into exile, and caused 
 her so many years of anxiety and sorrow. But, as she 
 spoke, the tallest of the four pilgrims withdrew his 
 cowl from his head, and displayed a strange scar in 
 the middle of his forehead. The princess started with 
 surprise. 
 
 "Remold!" she cried. "Fair son, if it be indeed 
 thou, tell it me at once." 
 
 The great heart of the hero was too full for speech. 
 He wept. The gentle mother knew now that these 
 were her sons who stood before her. Weeping with 
 great joy, she fell into Reinold's arms : tenderly they 
 kissed her a hundred times over. Not one of them 
 could speak a word, for aught that lives. 
 
 And the princess made a feast for her sons in the 
 banquet-hall. And she set before them all that was 
 rarest and best in the way of meat and drink, veni- 
 son and fish and fowl, and white wine and red in a 
 great cup. And she herself waited on them at table. 
 While they were eating, Duke Aymon came home from 
 hunting. 
 
 " Who are these men who eat like lords, but who are 
 dressed like holy pilgrims?" he asked as he walked 
 suddenly into the banquet-room. 
 
 The Princess Aya, weeping, answered, 
 
 "They are your sons, the long-lost heroes of our
 
 Malagis tJie Wizard. 153 
 
 house. They have braved every danger to see their 
 mother once again. And I have given them shelter 
 this one night, and food such as the sons of Duke 
 Aymon should eat. When the morning dawns they 
 will go away, and I know not if in all my life I shall 
 see them again." 
 
 The iron -hearted duke was in truth pleased to see his 
 sons, but with him duty was stronger than love. He 
 tried to forget that he was a father, and to remember 
 only that he was a knight, and a loyal vassal of the 
 king. Roughly he spoke to the young men. 
 
 " Out upon you, you traitors ! " he cried. " My 
 castle is no abiding-place for men who make war upon 
 Charlemagne and his knights. You are no sons of 
 mine. No favors shall ye seek of me." 
 
 Right angry was the courteous Reinold to hear these 
 words from his father's lips. He sprang from the table. 
 Had any other knight spoken thus, he would have made 
 him rue it. But he checked his fiery temper. 
 
 " Baron," said the hero, " it is hard to hear one who 
 should keep us and help us, through bad report as well 
 as good, talk thus harshly and unreasonably. It is 
 maddening to know that you thus disherit us for the 
 sake of the most selfish of kings." 
 
 Duke Aymon's love now got the better of his loyalty. 
 For a time he could not speak for weeping. Then he 
 said, " Reinold, very worthy son of baron art thou. I 
 know not thy peer on earth. But for my oath's sake 
 I dare not give you aught of aid or comfort."
 
 154 The Story of Roland. 
 
 And very sorrowfully the duke turned away, and left 
 the hall. And he mounted his steed, and rode away. 
 And he came not back to Dordon until he heard that 
 the king had pardoned his sons. 
 
 After he had gone, Reinold and his brothers laid 
 aside their pilgrim-garbs, and dressed themselves in 
 apparel befitting their rank. And their mother gave 
 them of her gold and silver, which she had in great 
 abundance. And messengers were sent out into the 
 city and into the country-side, to make it known to 
 all men who were dissatisfied with the king and his 
 doings, that the four sons of Aymon were resting for 
 the night in their father's castle. 
 
 " Let all who would aid them against the tyranny of 
 Charlemagne," said the messengers, "arm themselves, 
 and join them, without delay." 
 
 At dawn the heroes rode boldly out of Dordon, and 
 behind them followed seven hundred noble knights who 
 had vowed to see them safe again in their mountain 
 home of Montalban. On their way they were over- 
 taken by the dwarf Malagis, who had with him four 
 sumterloads of gold and silver. He had just come 
 from the king's court at Paris. But, when he was 
 asked where he had gotten the treasure which he 
 brought, he said, 
 
 "The mountain goblins and the wood-sprites have 
 sent a part of their secret hoard to the heroes of 
 Montalban."
 
 Malagis the Wizard. 155 
 
 When Charlemagne learned that the sons of Ayrnon 
 had so boldly visited their mother at Dordon, and that 
 they had gone back to their mountain stronghold with 
 so great a following, his wrath waxed very hot, and he 
 called his peers together to ask their advice. Duke 
 Namon and Roland were in favor of peace. 
 
 "Grant the four knights your forgiveness," said they, 
 " and you will gain four very powerful vassals, who will 
 be of great help to you in your wars against the 
 Saracens." 
 
 But Ganelon, the cunning mischief-maker, arose and 
 said, "The king will scarcely humble himself by making 
 terms with traitors. It would be better to try one 
 more stratagem at least, ere we acknowledge ourselves 
 outwitted by them. Now, there is the old Moorish 
 chief, Ivo, the father-in-law of Reinold. He loves noth- 
 ing so much as money. He would sell his own children 
 for gold. If we could only gain his friendship, he 
 might be persuaded to betray the four brothers into 
 our hands." 
 
 Charlemagne was delighted with this cunning sug- 
 gestion : it pleased him better than the wiser plans for 
 peace which Roland and Duke Namon had proposed. 
 Secret messengers were at once sent to Chief Ivo with 
 rich presents of gold and jewels, and promises of much 
 more, if he would betray the four sons of Aymon. 
 Ganelon was right when he had spoken of Ivo's great 
 love of money. He listened eagerly to the offers of 
 the king's messengers; and his heart grew black, and
 
 156 The Story of Roland. 
 
 his long fingers itched for the promised rewards. And, 
 without a single twitch of conscience, he agreed to sell 
 Reinold and his brothers, and their mountain fortress, 
 to the king. 
 
 One day the faithless Ivo went to Montalban, as he 
 had been wont to do, to see his daughter Clarissa, and 
 to talk with the hero-brothers. He had just come from 
 Paris, he said, and he brought glad news. 
 
 " Would you like to make peace with your uncle the 
 king ? " 
 
 " Nothing would gladden our hearts more," said Rei- 
 nold. "It is hard to live thus outlawed and hunted 
 down by our own kinsmen and those who should be 
 our friends." 
 
 Then Ivo, with smooth, lying words, told them that 
 the king had offered to let all bygones be bygones, and 
 to receive them into the highest favor at his court, if 
 they would only prove their sincerity by a single act 
 of submission. 
 
 " What is it ? " asked they. " We will sacrifice every 
 thing except our lives and our knightly honor, in order 
 that there may be peace between us and the king." 
 
 " It is only this," said the cunning Ivo. " It is that 
 you dress yourselves in the garb of pilgrims, like that 
 which you wore when you visited your mother at Dor- 
 don, and that, barefooted and unarmed, you ride to the 
 fortress of Falkalone, and there do homage to the king, 
 begging his forgiveness." 
 
 "That is easily done," said Reinold. "It is not half
 
 Malagis the Wizard. 157 
 
 so hard a penance as we have suffered these ten years 
 past. You may tell the king that we will do ;is he 
 desires, for we are sadly tired of this strife." 
 
 A few weeks after this, a messenger came to Mon- 
 talban, bringing word that the king with his peers had 
 come to the castle of Falkalone, and that he waited 
 there the submission of Reinold and his brothers. 
 The four knights at once made ready to obey the sum- 
 mons. They donned their pilgrims' garbs, and, bare- 
 footed and unarmed, mounted the donkeys which were 
 to carry them across the mountains. Then Clarissa, 
 the wife of Reinold, prayed them not to go. 
 
 " My father, Chief Ivo," said she, "would stoop to any 
 deed of treachery for the sake of gold. And my heart 
 tells me that he is luring you to Falkalone to betray 
 you. I beg you not to go thus unarmed into the lion's 
 power." 
 
 But Reinold would not listen to his fair wife. 
 
 " An ungrateful daughter you are," said he, " thus to 
 accuse your father of the basest crime of which a 
 warrior can be guilty. I have ever found him trust- 
 worthy, and I will not now believe him to be false." 
 
 With these words he turned, and rode out through 
 the castle-gate, not even bidding Clarissa good-by. 
 Richard and Guichard followed him, but Allard tarried 
 a few moments in the courtyard. 
 
 " Take these good friends with you," said Clarissa : 
 'you will have need of them, if I mistake not." Ard 
 she handed him four swords, among which was Rei- 
 nold's Flamberge.
 
 158 The Story of Roland. 
 
 Allard thanked the lady; and, taking the good wea- 
 pons, he hid them carefully beneath his penitent's 
 robe. Then giving whip to his donkey, he followed 
 his brothers down the steep mountain road which led 
 toward Falkalone. 
 
 As the heroes were passing through a narrow glen 
 not more than a league from Falkalone, they were set 
 upon by a party of horsemen who lay in ambush there. 
 Then it was that Reinold thought of fair Clarissa's 
 warning words, and bitterly he repented that he had 
 not hearkened to her advice. But Allard quickly divid- 
 ed the swords among them ; and, when Reinold saw 
 his old friend Flamberge once more in his hand, his 
 fears vanished, and he stood boldly on guard against 
 his foes. But how could four men, mounted only on 
 donkeys, and armed only with swords, defend them- 
 selves from the onset of threescore steel-clad knights 
 on horseback ? Allard, Guichard, and Richard were 
 soon overthrown, and made prisoners. What would 
 Reinold not have given for a stout lance, and his trusty 
 war-steed Bayard, at that moment? Yet bravely he 
 fought, and more than one of his foes bit the dust. 
 At last night came on ; and, while the others were grop- 
 ing in the dusk, he turned his donkey about, and, 
 as he knew the road well, he made his way safely back 
 to Montalban. 
 
 Reinold expected that Charlemagne would again lay 
 siege to his mountain castle, and try to gain by force 
 what he had partly failed to gain by guile. He there-
 
 Malagis the Wizard. 159 
 
 fore doubled the guards on the walls, and sent out com- 
 panies of armed men to watch every turn of the narrow 
 road which led from the valley up to the fortress ; and 
 on the rocks and high places he caused great heaps of 
 stones and other missiles to be piled, ready to be 
 thrown down on the heads of any foes who should dare 
 approach too near. But, at the very moment when 
 the king was ready to begin the assault on Montalban, 
 messengers came to him from Paris, bringing news 
 which made it necessary for him to return home with- 
 out further delay. 
 
 "Let the three rebels whom we have taken," said he, 
 "be carried back with us in chains to Paris. As soon 
 as our leisure serves us, they shall be hanged like so 
 many thieves. Their fate will be a warning to all 
 other traitors." 
 
 Then Reinold, when he heard it, resolved that he 
 would at all hazards save the lives of his brothers. So 
 he mounted his good steed Bayard, and set out alone 
 for Paris. One day, at the noontide hour, he stopped 
 to rest in the cool shade of a great oak. The sun shone 
 very hot ; the grass upon which he reclined was green 
 and soft ; the bees hummed drowsily among the leaves 
 overhead ; every thing was so calm and still, that, before 
 Reinold knew it, he had fallen asleep. And Bayard, 
 pleased with the pasturage which spread around, left 
 his master's side, and wandered hither and thither, 
 grazing the sweetest clover and the freshest leaves of 
 grass. It so happened that some country-folk who were
 
 I6o The Story of Roland. 
 
 passing that way saw the horse ; and one of them, who 
 had been at Dordon, said, 
 
 "See there! I verily believe that steed is Bayard." 
 
 But the others laughed at him. 
 
 "At any rate," said he, "he is a rich prize. See the 
 gold-red saddle on his back, the golden stirrups at his 
 sides, and the silken reins that rest upon his neck. He 
 belongs to no common knight. I mean to take him to 
 Paris, and claim a reward for having found him. He 
 would be a handsome gift to present to the king." 
 
 Now, this man was no common countryman, or he 
 would not have dared think of touching so rare and 
 rich a prize ; nor could he, without the help of magic, 
 have come near the horse. But he had seen something 
 of the world ; and in his youth he had lived some time 
 with an old wizard, from whom he had learned some- 
 thing of witchery and enchantment. So, as he drew 
 near the grazing horse, he mumbled many strange, 
 uncouth words, and scattered a fine white powder to 
 the winds. Yet, even with all these precautions, it was 
 with the greatest difficulty that he caught hold of the 
 reins of Bayard, and seated himself on his back. The 
 horse at once set off at a full gallop toward Paris ; and 
 so swift was his passage, that early the next morning he 
 stood in the courtyard of the king's palace. 
 
 When word was brought to Charlemagne, that Bayard, 
 the matchless steed of the Montalban hero, was at the 
 door, he could not believe it. But when he went out, 
 and-saw for himself that horse, the like of which there
 
 Malagis the Wizard. 161 
 
 was none on earth, his joy was greater than if it had 
 been Reinold himself. 
 
 "Verily, this horse is worth more than a province I " 
 said he. 
 
 And he at once conferred the honor of knighthood 
 upon the countryman, loading him with rich presents of 
 gold and silver, and giving him as a fief the lands and 
 castles of the dead Duke Gilmer of Vermandois. 
 
 Now let us go back to Reinold, whom we left sleep- 
 ing in the shade of the friendly oak. When he awoke, 
 the sun was sloping far down toward the west. He had 
 never before slept so long and so carelessly by the road- 
 side. He arose and looked around. His steed was 
 nowhere to be seen. He called him, at first softly, then 
 very loudly, " Bayard ! " He listened to hear the shrill 
 whinny with which the horse always answered his call. 
 And when no sound came back save the echo of his 
 own anxious voice, then Reinold knew that Bayard 
 was lost, and he threw himself in despair upon the 
 ground. 
 
 "What need to live longer," said he, "when I have 
 lost every living being that I loved? False fealty, 
 force, and fraud have deprived me of a father's love, of 
 a mother's caresses, of my brothers' companionship. 
 I have not kith nor kin to whom I may go for sympathy 
 and fellowship. And now my horse, whom I loved as 
 a fourth brother, has been stolen from me." 
 
 As he spoke, his eyes fell upon his golden spurs, the
 
 1 62 The Story of Roland. 
 
 symbol of his knighthood. He seized them in his 
 hands, and wrenched them from his ankles. 
 
 "What need of these, when Bayard is gone!" he 
 cried. "Without a horse, I am no longer a knight." 
 
 "Good-day to you, my lord!" said a shrill, harsh 
 voice at his elbow. 
 
 He looked up, and saw a little old man, bent almost 
 double with the infirmities of age, standing very close 
 to him, and gazing at him with a strange, quizzical look 
 on his little dried-up features. The old man was dressed 
 in the garb of a begging pilgrim, his long white beard 
 fell in tangled masses halfway to his feet, and his twin- 
 kling gray eyes were almost hidden beneath his heavy 
 white eyebrows. 
 
 " Good-day to you, my lord ! " he said a second time, 
 bowing very low. 
 
 " It may be a good day to you, old man," said Rei- 
 nold. " But, as for me, I have scarcely known a good 
 day in all my life." 
 
 " My lord," said the pilgrim, "why should your heart 
 lose hope ? Do but give me a present as a token of 
 your faith, and I will pray Heaven to help you. Prayer 
 is the poor man's defence, and it has sometimes re- 
 lieved the rich and the great from their distresses." 
 
 "Your prayers may do me much good," answered 
 Reinold ; " but I have no faith in them, nor indeed in 
 aught else. Yet no beggar has ever gone away from 
 me empty-handed. Here are my spurs, the priceless 
 gifts that my mother buckled to my ar.kles on the day
 
 Malagis the Wizard. 163 
 
 that I was dubbed a knight. Take them : I shall never 
 wear them again/' 
 
 The pilgrim took the spurs, and, bowing low, said, 
 " My lord, these spurs may be worth ten pounds ; but 
 my prayers are worth much more. Have you nothing 
 else to give ? " 
 
 Reinold's down-heartedness began now to give place 
 to anger. "A fig for your prayers!" answered he. 
 " If it were not for your gray hairs, I would give you 
 a sound drubbing for a present.' 
 
 "Ah, good sir," said the old man, "it is not thus 
 that Christians give alms to pious pilgrims. If every 
 one of whom I have begged had beaten me, the churches 
 and the convents would have been but poorly furnished. 
 But some have shared their last crust with me, and great 
 has been their reward. Therefore, I ask thee again, if 
 thou hast any thing to spare, give it me." 
 
 Then Reinold took off his mantle, a beautiful gar- 
 ment of velvet, embroidered with silk and gold, and 
 gave it to the pilgrim. 
 
 " Take this," said he. " It is the last gift of my wife, 
 the charming Clarissa, the fair Pagan, whose love for 
 me is, I fear, greater and more sincere than I deserve." 
 
 The old man folded the mantle carefully, and put it in 
 his wallet. Then, with another low bow, he said, " My 
 lord, have you nothing else that you would give me for 
 the sake of kind remembrance ? ' 
 
 Reinold's wrath now got the. better of him. Fiercely 
 he drew Flamberge from his scabbard. He seized the
 
 164 The Story of Roland. 
 
 pilgrim by the beard. " Wouldst thou rob me ? " he 
 cried. " Even thy age shall not save thee ! " 
 
 The old man quietly pushed back his hood. His long 
 beard fell off in Reinold's grasp. He looked at the 
 hero with a smile. 
 
 " Good Sir Reinold," said he, " wouldst thou slay thy 
 cousin Malagis ? " 
 
 It was indeed the wizard dwarf Malagis, who, for 
 some reason best known to himself, had chosen to come 
 before Reinold in this disguise. 
 
 " Cheer up, brave cousin ! " said he. " Faith and hope 
 have brought about greater wonders than the wizard's 
 wand ever accomplished. But despair has never yet 
 gained a victory. Your brothers are prisoners in the 
 king's castle, and Bayard is on his way to Paris. But, 
 if you will trust me, all will yet be well." 
 
 He then took from his wallet an old gown, like that 
 which he himself wore, and bade Reinold put it on over 
 his armor, instead of the rich mantle which he had just 
 given away. He unlaced his helmet, and hid it in a 
 clump of shrubs, and, instead of it, he drew over his 
 head a ragged gray hood, which hid more than half his 
 face beneath its folds. A false beard and a few touches 
 of paint were all that was needed now to change the 
 hero into the likeness of a pious pilgrim. 
 
 "Malagis," said Reinold, embracing the wizard, "thou 
 art truly a godsend ! I believe in thee." 
 
 A few days after this, two pilgrims, old and lame, 
 limped through the streets of Paris, begging alms of the
 
 Malagis the Wizard. 165 
 
 good people whom they met. They stood on the bridge 
 over the Seine, and watched a grand procession of lords 
 and ladies crossing the river, on their way to a tour- 
 nament which was to be held in the meadows on the 
 other side. 
 
 " Put on your spurs, cousin," said the wizard ; " for, 
 believe me, you will soon need them." 
 
 By and by a great shouting was heard ; and the king 
 was seen riding toward the bridge, with Roland and the 
 other peers in his train. In front of him was the great 
 war-steed Bayard, led by four stout grooms. The horse 
 was most richly apparelled. The bridle was of silver 
 and gold, with reins of fine sable and silk-covered 
 leather ; the saddle was wonderfully wrought of leather 
 and cloth and rare metals ; and over all were trappings 
 of crimson velvet bordered with cloth-of-gold, on which 
 fair ladies' fingers had deftly embroidered the white 
 lilies of France. It was hard to tell which the people 
 applauded more, the grand old king who sat so proudly 
 on his own charger, or the noble steed who walked 
 before him like the monarch of his kind. 
 
 " They are leading the horse to the lists," said a 
 monk who stood near. " The knights are there to make 
 trial of their skill in mounting and riding him, and he 
 who succeeds best is to have him as a present from the 
 king." 
 
 " When will kings cease to give away the things that 
 do not belong to them ? " asked Malagis. 
 
 All at once the horse was noticed to stop. He had
 
 1 66 The Story of Roland. 
 
 seen the poor pilgrims on the bridge. With a sudden 
 toss of the head he jerked away from the grooms ; and, 
 neighing joyfully, he ran forward, and laid his head on 
 Reinold's shoulder. 
 
 " Never saw I such a horse as Bayard," said Roland 
 to the king. " He seems to scorn our company, and to 
 like those ragged beggars better than knights and noble- 
 men." ;, 
 
 "Come, Bayard," said the king, riding forward, and 
 laying his hand on the reins. " Thou shouldst be more 
 choice 0f thy comrades." 
 
 "And is this, indeed, Bayard?" asked one of the 
 pilgrims. "How lucky we are to happen here at this 
 moment ! " 
 
 Then, turning to Charlemagne, he said, " Most gra- 
 cious king, I pray you to grant us a boon. This my 
 poor brother has been deaf and dumb and blind these 
 many days, and there is in life no joy for him. He 
 wanders with me from place to place in great distress ; 
 and, do what he will, he can find no relief. But yester- 
 day a wizard told me, that, if he could be allowed to ride 
 even ten steps on the great steed Bayard, he should be 
 healed." 
 
 The king and his courtiers laughed 
 
 "I have half a mind to let him try," said Charle- 
 magne ; " for, although I have heard of miracles. I have 
 never yet seen one/' 
 
 "Even if he should not be healed," said Roland "it 
 would be equally a miracle. It would be as wonderful
 
 Malagis the Wizard. 167 
 
 to see a cripple ride the great Bayard as to see the blind 
 restored to sight." 
 
 Then, by the king's command, the grooms lifted 
 the supposed pilgrim into the saddle. Men wondered 
 why the horse should stand so gently, and allow himself 
 to be backed by the awkward, ragged beggar, when he 
 had refused to let the noblest barons put feet in his 
 stirrups. But their wonder grew to astonishment when 
 the dumb pilgrim spoke the word " Bayard ! ' 'aW^Lthe 
 horse, with his rider sitting gracefully in the" saddle, 
 dashed across the bridge, and galloped away more swiftly 
 than horse had ever before been known to gallop. The 
 king and all his peers put spurs to their steeds, and 
 followed. But in less than a minute the wonderful 
 Bayard was out of sight, and none of his pursuers saw 
 him again. More swiftly than a bird could fly through 
 the air, he sped southward over hill and dale and forest 
 and stream, and stopped not once until he had carried 
 his master safely back to Montalban. 
 
 " Fools that we are ! " said the king. " Again have 
 we been outwitted by that villain Reinold and his 
 cunning cousin Malagis. If ever the wizard comes 
 within my reach, he shall suffer for this." 
 
 But Malagis had taken care to slip away during the 
 confusion ; and, though the king ordered that search 
 should everywhere be made for him, he was not to be 
 found in Paris. 
 
 That same night a little man dressed in gray made 
 his way, silent and unseen, to the prison-tower of the
 
 1 68 The Story of Roland. 
 
 king's castle.. The guards before the doors were asleep, 
 and the sentinels who stood on the ramparts above 
 nodded at their posts. He touched the great oaken 
 doors. The iron bolts flew back with a faint click ; the 
 chains were unfastened without a rattle ; the doors 
 turned silently on their hinges. Some men say that 
 the cunning wizard, for it was Malagis, did all this 
 through magic : others say that he had bribed the 
 watchmen. Be this as it may, he had no trouble in 
 finding his way to a narrow dungeon, where the air 
 seemed heavy and cold, and the water oozed and trickled 
 through the ceiling, and the horrible gloom of the 
 grave seemed to brood over all. There three men were 
 chained to the wall. They were Allard, Guichard, and 
 Richard. When they heard him enter, they supposed 
 it was the jailer, come to lead them out to their death. 
 And they were glad, for death in any shape would have 
 been better than life in such a place. The wizard 
 touched them, and their chains fell from their limbs. 
 He must have had the jailer's keys. 
 
 "Up, cousins!" he cried. "You are saved. I am 
 Malagis. Follow me." 
 
 Silently they groped their way out of the prison. At 
 the castle-gate four fleet horses, ready saddled, waited 
 for them. They mounted them, and, ere the morning 
 dawned, were many leagues away from Paris, riding 
 straight for Montalban. 
 
 Very angry was the king when he learned, next day,
 
 Malagis the Wizard. 169 
 
 that he had been again outwitted, and that the sons of 
 Aymon had escaped. He vowed that he would not 
 rest, nor cease his efforts, until he had dined in the 
 broad feast-hall of Montalban. And he called together 
 his host, and marched with all haste back, for the third 
 time, to the country of the Pyrenees. 
 
 The mountain stronghold was surrounded on every 
 side by the men of Charlemagne. Every road and 
 every pass leading to it were carefully guarded. The 
 king knew that he could never reach the walls, or hope 
 to carry the place by assault, and therefore that the 
 only way to capture it was to starve the garrison into 
 surrender. Yet week after week passed by, and neither 
 party seemed to gain any advantage over the other. 
 Once a company of knights, under Reinold, made a 
 sally into the plain below, and had a brief passage-at- 
 arms with some of Charlemagne's men. Roland and 
 Reinold measured their lances with each other; and 
 Roland, for the first and only time in his life, was 
 unhorsed. 
 
 " Ah, good cousin ! " cried Reinold, " that was your 
 horse's failure, and no fault of yours." 
 
 And he at once called off his men, and rode back 
 to the castle. Roland was very much grieved at the 
 disgrace of his fall : but, instead of feeling angry, he 
 cherished the warmest feelings of friendship for his 
 gallant cousin ; and he vowed, that, if ever the king 
 should forgive Reinold, he would love him next to 
 Oliver, and Ogier the Dane.
 
 1 70 The Story of Roland. 
 
 It happened one night, that Malagis as, indeed, he 
 had often done before went out as a spy into Charle- 
 magne's camp. The soldiers were sleeping quietly in 
 their tents ; and, as the wizard crept stealthily from one 
 place to another, he threw a white sleeping-powder into 
 the air, which caused even the most watchful sentinels 
 to close their eyes. Thus he made his way into the 
 very heart of the camp ; and, without any fear of awaken- 
 ing the sleepers, he stood in the door of the king's 
 tent. Suddenly, and to his great surprise, he felt him- 
 self seized by the collar, and lifted from the ground. 
 He looked around, and saw that he was in the strong 
 grasp of Oliver, who, from some reason which the wiz- 
 ard could never understand, was not made drowsy by 
 the sleeping-powders. Malagis earnestly begged the 
 knight to set him free. But Oliver would not listen to 
 a word. He aroused the sleepers in the tent, and car- 
 ried the struggling dwarf into the king's presence. 
 
 "Ah, thou cunning wizard !" cried the king, "I have 
 thee at last ! And, even though the unseen powers be 
 on thy side, thou shalt not get off easily." 
 
 Then he ordered Malagis to be bound, and carried 
 out of the camp, and thrown from the top of a precipice. 
 
 "My lord," said the wizard, "I have but one favor 
 to ask of you. Let me live long enough to sit once 
 more with you and your peers at the banquet-table." 
 
 "It shall be as thou desirest," said the king; "but 
 thy life shall not be much the longer thereby." 
 
 Then he ordered a feast to be made ready at once,
 
 Malagis the Wizard. 171 
 
 and he sent out and invited the noblest of his barons 
 to come and eat with him. It was midnight when the 
 king and his knights sat down to supper, and much did 
 they enjoy the good food and the rich wine which 
 were placed before them. But soon they began to feel 
 drowsy. One by one they closed their eyes, and fell 
 back in their seats fast asleep. In a short time not a 
 single person in all the camp, save Malagis, was awake. 
 His eyes twinkled merrily ; and he could not help jump- 
 ing upon the table, and dancing about in glee, as he saw 
 how the magic powder had again cast a spell of slumber 
 over all. Then he stepped softly to the side of the 
 sleeping Charlemagne ; and, after giving him an extra 
 pinch of the snuff, he lifted him on his shoulders, and 
 carried him out of the tent. It was a great burden for 
 the little man to carry, but we must believe that his 
 magic increased his strength tenfold as he toiled up 
 the narrow mountain paths with his kingly burden on 
 his back. 
 
 When he reached the castle, the gate was opened ; 
 and he carried the king, still fast asleep, into the 
 broad hall. Great was the astonishment of Reinold 
 and his brothers when they saw what kind of a prisoner 
 the dwarf had brought them. 
 
 " Your troubles are at an end, my cousins," said he. 
 " You may now make peace on your own terms." 
 
 The king was carried to the best guest-chamber in 
 the castle, and every thing was done that could add to 
 his comfort. But he did not awaken until noon the
 
 172 The Story of Roland. 
 
 next day. You may imagine his surprise when he 
 opened his eyes, and found himself, not, as he supposed, 
 in his tent, but in a sumptuous castle, furnished as 
 grandly as his own palace. For a long time he would 
 not believe but that it was all a dream ; and not until 
 Reinold and Malagis came into his presence, and told 
 him where he was, and how he came there, did he re- 
 cover from his bewilderment. At first he was very 
 angry, and harshly upbraided them for their treason. 
 But Reinold did not once forget the courtesy that is 
 due from a knight to his king. As Charlemagne was 
 very hungry after his long sleep, he was persuaded to 
 sit down with the sons of Aymon at the banquet-table, 
 and partake of the choice food and the rare wines with 
 which Montalban was well supplied. But when the 
 brothers spoke to him of peace, and prayed that he 
 would let bygones be bygones, and receive them again 
 into his kingly favor, he grew angry and morose, and 
 bade them open the castle-gates, and let him go back to 
 his friends, who were anxiously seeking him in the 
 valley below. 
 
 " Never will I make peace with you ! " he cried. 
 
 " It shall not be said that I have dealt harshly with 
 the king," said Reinold. " He shall have his freedom ; 
 and, if our kindness has no power to touch his heart, 
 then we must still defend ourselves in Montalban," 
 
 And the king went out of the castle, and btck to 
 his own camp, without a word of forgiveness for his 
 unhappy nephews.
 
 Malagis the Wizard. 173 
 
 As Reinold passed through the courtyard soon after- 
 ward, he saw Malagis the wizard burning a great heap 
 of papers and boxes and odd mixtures, and making 
 strange motions and gestures over them, as the flames 
 consumed them. 
 
 " What are you doing, cousin ? " he asked. 
 " " I am burning all the tools of my trade," said Mala- 
 gis sadly. "The wizard's art is thrown away upon such 
 men as you. I am going to leave Montalban, never to 
 return again. Had you been wise, you would have kept 
 the king a prisoner, and forced him to grant you peace." 
 
 After Charlemagne had gone back to his camp, he 
 began to think more seriously about this long and 
 profitless war with his nephews. 
 
 " Why not bring it to a close by granting them your 
 forgiveness ? " asked Roland. 
 
 "But my oath," said Charlemagne. "I dare not 
 forget my oath." 
 
 "True," answered Roland, "But what was your 
 oath ? that you would not make peace, nor grant your 
 forgiveness, until you had dined in the banquet-hall of 
 Montalban ? " 
 
 " That was my oath, and it shall be remembered." 
 
 " But have you not dined to-day in the banquet-hall 
 of Mcntalban?" 
 
 The king was silent, and he went and shut himself 
 up alone in his tent. The next day he sent a messen- 
 ger to the heroes of Montalban, offering to make peace 
 with them on their own terms, to grant them full par
 
 1 74 The Story of Roland. 
 
 don for all past offences, and to restore to them all the 
 honors, fiefs, and dignities which were theirs by right. 
 And thus the sorrowful wars with Duke Aymon's sons 
 were ended. 1 
 
 1 See Note n at the end of this i 
 
 T *. T"-* W n .T} >- >T * * ' -' '" NT f 
 
 xx *** xxA ' *
 
 The Princess of Cathay. 175 
 
 ADVENTURE XIIL 
 
 THE PRINCESS OF CATHAY. 
 
 IT was the season of Pentecost, and Charlemagne 
 was holding a great feast and a high tide of rejoicing 
 at Paris. The city was dressed in holiday attire ; and 
 there was much banqueting, and music and dancing, 
 and jousting, and many gallant deeds at arms. And 
 i:he noblest men and the fairest women in Christendom 
 had gathered there to do honor to the king and to 
 share in the glad festivities. For, strange as it may 
 seem, Charlemagne was now, for the first time in his 
 reign, at peace with all the world. Neither foes abroad 
 nor traitors at home dared lift up their heads, or show 
 their hands. 
 
 On the last day of the feast a grand tournament was 
 held in the meadows ; and the king and his peers, and 
 the lordly strangers who were visiting at the court, 
 were there. Some merely sat in the galleries as spec- 
 tators : others entered the lists as contestants in the 
 noble passage-at-arms. There might have been seen 
 Roland and Oliver, and Ogier the Dane, and Reinold 
 of Montalban, and wise old Duke Namon, and evil-eyed
 
 1 76 The Story of Roland. 
 
 Ganelon, and even the cunning wizard Malagis. There, 
 too, were the queen and her train of high-born dames, 
 and the fairest damsels that the sun of France had ever 
 shone upon. But fairer than all others was the match- 
 less maiden Alda, the betrothed of Roland. And most 
 worthy among the strangers was a young English 
 knight named Astolpho, a poet by birth, and fairer 
 of face and speech than he was skilful in the use of 
 arms. There, also, were several Pagan princes, who had 
 come to Paris either to see and admire the splendor and 
 the power of the Christian king, or to spy out the weak 
 points in his government, and determine what his real 
 strength might be. Chief among these was a dark- 
 faced giant named Ferrau, a prince of Saragossa, who 
 was said to be the ablest and bravest of all the Saracen 
 knights in the train of King Marsilius of Spain. But 
 no one of all the great company who met to view 
 the tournament there in the Seine meadows could 
 excel Roland in grace and strength and skill. Many 
 were the feats at arms that he performed that day, and 
 in more than one combat was he hailed the victor. 
 
 Late in the afternoon, when the heralds had an- 
 nounced the cessation of the day's amusements, and 
 the folk were about to leave the place, the sound of a 
 bugle was heard outside of the lists. And when, by 
 the king's command, the barriers were thrown open to 
 admit the new-comer, whoever he might be, there came 
 a strange procession through. Four giants, taller by 
 half than the tallest man in Charlemagne's court, pre-
 
 The Princess of Cathay. 177 
 
 sented themselves, and came directly toward the king. 
 Their faces were dark and fierce ; and they looked down 
 upon the knights, who made way for them, with an ill- 
 hidden expression of scorn. Behind them, on a milk- 
 white palfrey, rode a young lady. A princess she 
 seemed, and the most beautiful that Charlemagne or 
 his knights had ever looked upon. She was dressed in 
 the fashion of the Far East, and upon her head was a 
 diadem of pearls ; and the palfrey upon which she sat 
 was trapped to the foot in blue velvet, bordered with 
 crimson cloth-of-gold. And by the side of the strange 
 lady there rode a noble knight, clad in a war-coat of 
 polished brass, upon a war-steed harnessed in white 
 cloth-of-gold, bearing a device of eyes full of tears. 
 And neither knight nor lady looked to the right or to 
 the left, but followed their huge guides straight toward 
 the place where the king sat. 
 
 When Charlemagne first saw the giants coming so 
 boldly in on foot, he was on the point of ordering them 
 driven from the lists. But when his eyes rested on the 
 rare beauty of the strange princess who followed them, 
 and on the proud form of the knight, her companion, 
 he allowed them to come very near to him in order 
 that he might the better see them, and speak with them. 
 
 " Who are you ? " he asked. " And why come you 
 here at this late hour of the day, unheralded and 
 unknown ? " 
 
 The four giants made humble obeisance to the king, 
 but said not a word. The knight sat upright on his
 
 178 TJu Story of Roland. 
 
 charger, his eyes fixed upon the ground before him, his 
 face immovable as that of a statue, seeming neither to 
 hear nor to see aught that was going on around him. 
 But the lady rode forward until she was directly in 
 front of the high seats. And she courtesied reverently 
 to the king ; and, lifting her peerles eyes towards him, 
 she said, 
 
 " Right high, right worthy, and right mighty krng, I 
 am Angelica. My father is King Galafron, the ruler 
 of far-off Cathay ; and he is, next to you, the mightiest 
 monarch in the world. This young knight who rides 
 by my side is my brother Argalia, than whom few 
 braver men are known. By the leave of our kingly 
 father we have journeyed from the rising sun to the 
 western sea, viewing the wonders of nature, and the 
 power of men, and the might of Christendom. And 
 we seek a knight without fear and without shame, who 
 will dare meet my brother in honorable act of arms." 
 
 At these words several of the knights sprang up, 
 eager to offer the gage of battle to the new-comer. 
 But Charlemagne motioned them to be quiet ; and the 
 Princess Angelica went on : 
 
 " We have heard, most noble king, that you are at 
 peace with all the world, and for that reason we have 
 been the more bold to come into your country. And 
 we had hoped to be here to take part in the passage-at- 
 arms to-day, but were de'ayed in our journey. And 
 now, since the hour is too late for any further jousting, 
 allow me to challenge you and the bravest of your
 
 The Princess of Cathay. 179 
 
 knights to meet my brother Argalia in single combat 
 with lance to-morrow at the foot of the Stair of 
 Merlin." 
 
 "We most certainly accept the challenge," said the 
 king, smiling. 
 
 "But listen to the conditions," said the princess 
 " Whoever is unhorsed by my brother becomes his law- 
 ful prisoner, and is held by him as a hostage until he is 
 ransomed. But, should any knight overcome my brother 
 in fair fight, that knight may, if he choose, claim me as 
 his wife, and all my dowry as his reward. For the Fates 
 have written that this can be done only by the greatest 
 hero in the world." 
 
 All the men who stood near and heard this chal- 
 lenge were astonished at the strangeness of the terms 
 which were offered, and yet they were all the more 
 eager to engage in combat with the young prince. 
 For, the longer they looked upon the matchless form 
 and features of Angelica, the more they were enrap- 
 tured with her heavenly beauty. 
 
 " We accept the conditions," said the king graciously. 
 "To-morrow morning the worthiest warriors in my 
 realm shall meet thy brother in a trial of arms at the 
 Stair of Merlin. If any man fail, he forfeits his 
 freedom. But remember the reward that is promised 
 the victor ! " 
 
 " It is well," answered the princess. " We shall 
 remember." 
 
 Then, saluting the king reverently, she turned her
 
 180 The Story of Roland. 
 
 palfrey about, and with her brother followed her giant 
 escort out of the lists. 
 
 And now a great dispute arose among the knights. 
 Each one was anxious to be the first to try his strength 
 and skill in the joust with the Prince of Cathay. Charle- 
 magne, seeing that the question could be settled in no 
 other way, declared that the whole matter should be 
 left tc chance, and ordered that lots should be drawn. 
 Thirty-one knights offered themselves, and not one felt 
 any doubt but that the palm of victory in the coming 
 contest would be his. Each wrote his name on a bit of 
 parchment, which he dropped into Roland's helmet. 
 Then the slips were drawn out one by one by a blind- 
 folded page, and the names were read in their order by 
 Archbishop Turpin. The first name was that of the 
 English knight, Astolpho. Everybody smiled when it 
 was read, some in disdain, others in ridicule. And 
 some were so unmannerly as to hint that the fair-haired 
 foreigner would succeed better in a tourney with min- 
 strels, with the harp as his weapon instead of the lance. 
 
 " Has he ever been known to unhorse his opponent ? " 
 asked one. 
 
 " Never," was the answer. " But he has been known 
 to tumble from his own steed at the mere sight of a 
 lance." 
 
 The second name drawn was that of the dark-browed 
 Pagan chief, Ferrau. There was a low murmur of dis- 
 appointment among the knights ; for the fierce Moor 
 was noted, not only for his great strength, but for his
 
 The Princess of Cathay. 181 
 
 skill also in every feat of arms. And all felt that Argalia 
 must indeed acquit himself well if he would come out 
 whole and well from a combat with so valiant a foe. 
 
 " It seems as if these heathen foreigners are to snatch 
 all the honors out of our hands," said Oliver. 
 
 " It shall not be ! " answered Reinold, biting his lips 
 in anger. 
 
 The third name was that of Ogier the Dane, and 
 there was a general sigh of relief. 
 
 " Another foreigner ! " said Duke Ganelon disdain- 
 t'ully. 
 
 "And yet he is a more loyal Frenchman than thou," 
 answered Roland, turning sharply upon the old traitor, 
 and gazing so fiercely into his face that he was glad to 
 slink away from the place. 
 
 The fourth name was that of Reinold of Montalban ; 
 and the fifth was that of the king himself. Oliver's 
 name was the tenth. But Roland, who was burning 
 with impatience to distinguish himself in a combat like 
 this, was left until the very last : his name was the 
 thirty-first. Among all the knights who had offered 
 themselves as combatants in the act of arms which wai 
 about to take place, not one, save Ferrau the fierce Moor, 
 was satisfied with the lots. 
 
 That evening Malagis the wizard opened his book 
 enchantments, and sought to find out therefrom what 
 fortune the Fates had in store for him and his friends. 
 But he desired most to know what would be the end of 
 the jousting on the morrow, and whether aught of honor
 
 1 82 The Story of Roland. 
 
 should accrue to his cousin Reinold of Montalban. As 
 he looked in his book, strange, weird creatures came 
 and danced before him. Fairies and hobgoblins, good 
 and bad, flocked into his chamber, and courtesied and 
 bowed, and saluted him as their master. And every one 
 seemed anxious to tell him something, and waited only 
 for his questions, or for his gracious leave to speak. 
 Did you ever think, my children, that there is magic in 
 every book, and that when you open the pages, good 
 fairies or wicked elves come and whisper to you ? The 
 words are the mysterious creatures that salute the magi- 
 cian who reads ; and they tell him of the wonderful past, 
 and lay bare for him the secrets of the present and the 
 future. 
 
 Among the ghostly visitors who came at the wizard's 
 call was a little elf who never had told a falsehood, or 
 concealed aught that he knew. Of him Malagis asked 
 many questions about the Princess Angelica and her 
 brother Argalia. And this is what the elf whispered 
 in the ear of the cunning wizard, 
 
 "Angelica and Argalia are truly the children of 
 mighty Galafron, king of Cathay. But they come to 
 France on no peaceful errand. Their object is to de- 
 stroy the bravest and the best of the Christian knights, 
 and in the end to overthrow the whole of Christendom. 
 Do you ask how a beautiful young lady, and a knight 
 single-handed and alone, can hope to do so great mis- 
 chief ? It is all very simple. I will tell you. Prince 
 Argalia carries an enchanted lance, a beam which is
 
 The Princess of Cathay. 183 
 
 sure to unhorse whomsoever it touches, and which has 
 never been known to fail. His shield is equally wonder- 
 ful ; for every weapon that comes toward it turns aside 
 in its course, and refuses to touch it. And he rides a 
 horse which is as fleet as the hurricane : not even the 
 famed Bayard can outstrip him. The stoutest warrior 
 can scarcely hope to contend successfully with such a 
 foe. But what I have told you is not all. Even should 
 Argalia be defeated in the joust, it is not likely that the 
 victor can ever gain the prize which has been promised ; 
 for the princess carries with her a magic ring the like 
 of which is not known in your books. When any dan- 
 ger threatens her, she places this ring in her mouth, 
 and all at once she vanishes from mortal sight ; and she 
 is carried with the speed of thought to whatever place 
 she wishes to go." 
 
 When Malagis had learned all that was to be known 
 about Angelica and her brother, he closed his book, and 
 sent his fairy visitors away. And he sat for a long time 
 alone in his chamber, planning what he should do. At 
 first he thought of warning the king of the danger 
 which threatened. But he knew that Charlemagne had 
 little faith in magic, and that he would only laugh at 
 his story : so, upon second thought, he made up his 
 mind to keep the whole matter a secret, and to under- 
 take alone the task of saving France from the cunning 
 infidels. When every one in the palace was asleep, and 
 all was silent and dark, the little man wrapped his long 
 clbak around him, and stole quietly out of his chamber.
 
 1 84 The Story of Roland. 
 
 Under his arm he carried his book of enchantments, 
 and in his hand he held his wizard's wand, while beneath 
 his cloak he carried a short sword. Straight to the 
 Stair of Merlin he went, where he knew he would find 
 the Princess of Cathay and her noble brother. He had 
 no trouble in finding the place, even in the dark ; for he 
 had often been there, in times now long past, to talk 
 with Merlin, the wise wizard of Britain, from whom he 
 had learned all his lore. 
 
 In the midst of the meadow adjoining the Stair of 
 Merlin stood a rich pavilion. It was covered with 
 double blue satin, and rich cloths from India, upon which 
 were embroidered many strange devices in silver and 
 gold. And above it floated four and twenty banners 
 bearing the arms and mottoes of the princes of Cathay. 
 At the door of this pavilion two swarthy giants stood, 
 with huge clubs in their hands, and cimeters at their 
 sides. Fiercely they glared at Malagis as he came 
 toward them ; and, had he not glared back with some- 
 thing of the same fierceness, there is no knowing what 
 mischief they might have done him. But they quailed 
 beneath the glances of the little old wizard ; and, when 
 they saw the book which he carried under his arm, they 
 began to tremble, for ignorance is gjways thus ^fearful, 
 in^ the presence of_JinjQwJ^3ge. Yet, when Malagis 
 would have entered the tent, the giants raised their 
 great bludgeons ; and, although they dared not look him 
 in the face, they stood ready to strike him down. Then 
 the wizard waved his wand in the air, and opened his
 
 Ttu Princess of Cathay. 185 
 
 book, and began to read. And forthwith the giants 
 dropped their clubs to the ground, and began to yawn. 
 And, as he kept on reading, their eyes grew heavy, so 
 that they could no longer keep them open. And soon 
 they were fast asleep, and recked not who came in, 
 or who passed out. Then Malagis walked boldly into 
 the inner court of the pavilion. Inside of the door he 
 found the other two giants seated on a bench ; but they 
 also were fast asleep, and the wizard passed by them 
 unchallenged. In one part of the pavilion, which was 
 hung with rich cloth-of-gold, and furnished most gor- 
 geously, after the manner of the Far East, the charming 
 Angelica was reclining on her couch ; and near her sat 
 her maidens and attendants, all wrapped in the deepest 
 slumber. When Malagis gazed upon the sweet face of 
 the Pagan princess, he thought that in the whole world 
 there was not any vision half so lovely. He wondered 
 if the angels were as beautiful, and he was half tempted 
 to fall down and worship. Never before had wizard 
 been so bewitched. He had come to the pavilion deter- 
 mined to kill both the princess and the prince, and thus 
 save Charlemagne and his peers from the great peril 
 which threatened them. But in the presence of the 
 peerless beauty he forgot 'all his learning, and all his 
 wizard's skill, and all his loyalty to the king. His book 
 slipped out of his hands, and fell with a rustling crash 
 upon the ground. The spell was broken, and the noise 
 awakened the princess and her maidens. They sprang 
 to their feet, ad screamed with affright. Argalia, who
 
 1 86 The Story of Roland. 
 
 was sleeping in another room, was aroused, and with 
 drawn sword hastened to the rescue. The giants, too, 
 rushed in with their huge bludgeons raised in air. But, 
 when they saw only the trembling wizard standing in 
 the middle of the room, they dropped their weapons, 
 scorning to strike a foe so weak and pitiable. Sorry, 
 indeed, was the plight of the wan-faced old man, shorn 
 now of all his power, and forgetful of his magic lore. 
 He fell helpless at the feet of the charming princess. 
 
 " Spare him," said Angelica to her brother, who had 
 again raised his sword. " There is no honor in crush- 
 ing a worm so poor and harmless. But let us turn his 
 own enchantments against him, and send him to our 
 good father Galafron in Cathay, that our folk may know 
 what kind of knights these Christians are who would 
 slay us while we sleep." 
 
 Then she took up the wand which had fallen from 
 the wizard's hand, and with it she drew a circle upon 
 the ground, calling three times upon the name of Mah- 
 met. And she opened the book of enchantments, and 
 read from it. And the pavilion was filled with a pale 
 blue smoke ; and forked lightnings flashed through the 
 darkness, and the winds moaned, and the thunder rolled. 
 And a score of strange creatures hobgoblins and 
 elves and winged afrits came and stood around the 
 magic circle. Then, at a word from Angelica, they 
 took up the trembling Malagis, and bore him away. 
 And they carried him over fields and wooded plains, 
 and across broad rivers, and the snowy mountains, and
 
 The Princess of Cathay. 187 
 
 the billowy seas, and many strange countries, until at 
 last they reached the land of the rising sun, and gave 
 him over to Galafron, king of Cathay. The king gazed 
 with contempt upon the wan and shrivelled features of 
 the fallen wizard, and he wondered if all the knights in 
 Christendom were like this one. Malagis in vain prayed 
 for mercy. Galafron could not understand a word that 
 he said, nor was he in a mood to show kindness to one 
 who had basely sought to take the life of his daughter 
 Angelica. And he ordered that the old man should be 
 imprisoned in a hollow rock beneath the sea, where he 
 should never more behold the light of the sun, nor hear 
 the glad sounds of day. 
 
 Early the next morning the knights who had offered 
 to joust with Prince Argalia rode out together to the 
 Stair of Merlin. They found the Pagan mounted upon 
 his wonderful charger, and ready for the fray. And a 
 great company of lords and ladies and squires and serv- 
 ing-men had assembled there, eager to view the combat. 
 And so noble was the bearing of the Prince of Cathay, 
 that, had he been a Christian knight, he would have had 
 the sympathy of all the lookers-on. 
 
 As the lots had decided, the first to enter the lists 
 was Astolpho of England. The trumpets sounded for 
 the onset, and the two combatants rushed toward each 
 other with the speed of the wind. As everybody had 
 expected, Astolpho was hurled headlong from his saddle, 
 and lay entangled in his heavy armor, helpless in the 
 dust. Argalia gallantly dismounted, and assisted him
 
 1 88 The Story of Roland. 
 
 - ' - .. .1 i . -.1. . .--,.,. p< 
 
 to rise. He kindly arranged his helmet, which had fallen 
 from his head, and then, according to the terms which 
 had been agreed upon, led him to the pavilion, where he 
 was to remain a prisoner. 
 
 There was a general murmur among the lookers-on ; 
 but whether it was a murmur of regret for the not 
 unlooked-for mischance of the poet knight, or of ad- 
 miration for the skill and courtesy of the Pagan prince, 
 I cannot say. 
 
 And now all was hushed in anxious expectation and 
 dread, as the fierce Ferrau rode out and took his place 
 in the lists. A very giant in size, boastful of speech, 
 rude and uncouth in manners, he seemed no fair match 
 for the light-built and courteous knight of Cathay. He 
 was clad in a complete suit of black armor, and above 
 his helmet's crest there waved a raven's plume. He 
 was mounted on a charger black as night, the trappings 
 of which were of black velvet, in which was wrought in 
 gold embroidery a figure of the new moon embracing 
 the morning star. Not a single well-wisher had the 
 fierce Moor in all that company of lookers-on. 
 
 When every thing was in readiness, the trumpets 
 again sounded the signal for the onset. The two 
 Pagans gave rein to their well-trained steeds, and 
 dashed across the turf. Their lances crashed against 
 the opposing shields, and every one expected that 
 Argalia would be unhorsed. What, then, was the aston- 
 ishment and delight of all, when they saw him ride 
 proudly onward, while the fierce Ferrau was hurled from
 
 The Princess of Cathay. 189 
 
 the saddle, and rolled ingloriously upon the ground ! A 
 great shout went up from the multitude of lookers-on, 
 a shout of joy, because they supposed that rude brute 
 force had for once been vanquished by skill : for no 
 one knew that the lance which Argalia bore was an 
 enchanted one ; and the rude Ferrau, although a guest 
 at the court of Charlemagne, was no favorite. Again 
 and again the air was rent with cheers for the valiant 
 Prince of Cathay ; while Argalia, never forgetful of the 
 courtesy due to a fallen foe, turned and rode back in 
 order to help Ferrau to his feet But the fierce Moor, 
 stung to madness by his unlooked-for overthrow, and 
 goaded into still greater wrath by the cheers which were 
 heard on every side, had already risen. He drew his 
 sword from its scabbard, and dared the Cathayan knight 
 to continue the fight on foot. The guards now stepped 
 before him, and reminded him of the terms that had 
 been agreed upon with Charlemagne. 
 
 " What are Charlemagne's agreements to me ? " he 
 cried angrily. " He is no king of mine : I owe him no 
 allegiance." 
 
 Fiercely, madly, he attacked the knight of Cathay. 
 Very skilfully did Argalia defend himself ; but neither 
 his skill nor his enchanted shield availed much against 
 the furious strokes of his giant foe. The contest was a 
 short one. Argalia was disarmed, and thrown to the 
 earth. Ferrau knelt upon his breast, and, drawing his 
 dagger, held it to the throat of the vanquished knight. 
 
 " On one condition only shalt thou have thy life,"
 
 190 T/ie Story of Roland. 
 
 he growled savagely. " Promise me, on thy faith as a 
 Mahometan, that thy sister Angelica shall be my wife, 
 and that all her dowry shall be mine ! " 
 
 Had Argalia been a Christian knight, he would have 
 scorned to have asked for his life on any terms, much 
 more would he have disdained to bargain for it thus. 
 But he was only a Pagan ; and, although he was very 
 courteous and noble, he lacked some of those higher 
 qualities of mind and heart which distinguished the 
 true Christian knight ; and so, after a little parley, he 
 agreed to the terms offered by Ferrau. And amid 
 groans, and cries of " Shame ! shame ! " from the lookers- 
 on, he was allowed to rise to his feet. 
 
 But Angelica liked not the thought of being made 
 the wife of a man so fierce and brutish as Ferrau. She 
 had had no voice in the agreement with the Moor, and 
 she made up her mind not to be bound by it. In spite 
 of the guards, she sprang over the barriers, and hurried 
 to her brother's side. 
 
 "Never will your sister be the bride of a knight so 
 unworthy and so base!" she cried. Then in a low 
 whisper she said, " Meet me in the wood of Ardennes." 
 
 She took the magic ring from her finger, and put it 
 between her cherry lips. Quick as thought she van- 
 ished from sight. Only a thin, white cloud, beautiful as 
 a midsummer night's dream, and not a whit more last- 
 ing, arose in the air, and floated away on the breeze 
 toward the forest of Ardennes. When the Moor saw, 
 that, after all, he had been outwitted, and that the peer
 
 The Princess of Cathay. 191 
 
 less Angelica had escaped beyond his reach, his wrath 
 knew no bounds. With uplifted sword he rushed a 
 second time toward the knight of Cathay, intending to 
 strike him dead. But Argalia was too quick for him. 
 He had already mounted his swift-footed steed, and at 
 a word he was flying with the speed of a hurricane 
 across field and wood, and over hill and dale, toward 
 the trysting-place named by Angelica. 
 
 Everybody was astonished at the strange ending of 
 the jousts, and there was not a little disappointment 
 and confusion. The fierce Moor gave spurs to his 
 night-black steed, and followed in the wake of the flying 
 Argalia. Roland, knowing that should the prince be 
 overtaken he would fare but ill at the hands of his 
 wrathful enemy, mounted his own favorite horse Briglia- 
 doro, and rode swiftly after them. Then Reinold, burn- 
 ing with impatience to view once more the heavenly 
 beauty of Angelica, gave rein to Bayard, and soon out- 
 stripped and passed both Roland and Ferrau. A 
 strange, exciting race was that from the Stair of Merlin 
 to the wood of Ardennes. 1 
 
 < See Note la at the end of this volume. 
 ,
 
 192 The Story of Roland. 
 
 ADVENTURE XIV. 
 
 IN THE WOOD OF ARDENNES. 
 
 ift *he wood of Ardennes, far from the common 
 haunt* of ,\ien, there was a meadow, shut in on all sides 
 by tal? trees ard a thick growth of underwood. There 
 the ground \vs* covered with a rich carpet of the tender- 
 est green grar^ speckled with daisies and buttercups, 
 and broidered Wvth wild-roses and lilies-of-the-valley ; 
 and the air was sv-sct with the fragrance of the spring- 
 blossoms, and muBval with the joyous notes of the 
 song-birds. It was a place fitted for rest and pleasant 
 thought, where the h*rsh sounds of warlike strife and 
 busy labor could never intrude. 
 
 On one side of this meadow, half hidden in a grove 
 of drooping willows, was a fountain, walled in with pure 
 white marble, and once very beautiful, but now sadly 
 neglected, and falling into decay. Men say that the 
 wise wizard Merlin built this fountain in the days of 
 good King Arthur, hoping that Tristram and the fair 
 Isolde would drink of its waters ; for whosoever tasted 
 of them was filled at once with a strange feeling of hate 
 toward the one whom he had loved before, and he
 
 In The Wood of Ardennes. 193 
 
 loathed the things which formerly had seemed most fair, 
 to him. Not far from this spot was another fountain, 
 built, it was said, in the golden times, when the gods 
 walked and talked with men. The pool into which its 
 waters fell was of wonderful depth, and yet so clear 
 that the smallest pebble could be plainly seen at the 
 bottom. Men said that the wood-nymphs used often to 
 come here to bathe, and that the naiads delighted to sit 
 on its banks, and admire their own beauty reflected 
 from below. And some wise wizard of old had given 
 to the waters of this spring qualities as strange as 
 those which distinguished the fountain of Merlin ; for 
 whosoever drank of them was forthwith filled with the 
 maddest love and admiration for the first human being 
 whom he chanced thereafter to meet. 
 
 To this happy meadow Angelica came, after flying 
 unseen from the tournament at Merlin's Stair ; and here 
 she waited the coming of her brother Argalia. All day 
 long she busied herself, plucking the flowers in the 
 meadow, or listening to the melody of the birds, or 
 watching the plashing of the water in the fountains ; 
 and she wondered why Argalia so long delayed his 
 coming. Alas ! her princely brother would never meet 
 her at trysting-place again. As I have told you, he had 
 fled from the tilting-place with the speed of the wind, 
 intending to meet his sister in the wood ot Ardennes, 
 and with her to go back without delay to their old home 
 in Cathay. But the mid-day sun shone hot and fierce 
 upon his head, and, thinking that no one would be able
 
 194 The Story of Roland. 
 
 to overtake him, he stopped in the shadow of a spread- 
 ing oak to rest. The shade was so cool and tempting, 
 and the twitter of the song-birds was so pleasing, and 
 the bees hummed so drowsily among the leaves, that he 
 was persuaded to dismount. He tethered his steed to 
 an overhanging bough: he took off his helmet, and 
 loosened his war-coat, and, stretching himself carelessly 
 upon the grass, was soon fast asleep. 
 
 While Argalia thus slept in the shade of the oak, 
 Reinold of Montalban, mounted on the fleet-footed 
 Bayard, passed by. And, although he saw the knight 
 of Cathay slumbering soundly, he cared not to waken 
 him, but hastened onward, intent on catching one more 
 glimpse of the charming Angelica. Soon afterward 
 the fierce Ferrau, fuming with fury, and full of foul 
 thoughts, rode up. He spied the sleeping prince under 
 the tree : his eyes gleamed with a wicked light, and his 
 face grew dark as any thunder-cloud. No true knight 
 would have harmed a sleeping foe : he would have 
 awakened him, and given him time to arm himself. 
 But the Pagan cared naught for knightly honor. With- 
 out dismounting from his steed, he raised his gleaming 
 sword above the uncovered head of Argalia ; and, when 
 the weapon fell, the gallant Prince of Cathay slept the 
 sleep that knows not waking. Ferrau returned his 
 blade to its scabbard, and was about to ride on again, 
 when he saw the helmet of Argalia lying upon the grass 
 where that hapless knight had thrown it. It was a 
 casque of great beauty and rare workmanship, bound
 
 In The Wood of Ardennes. 195 
 
 round with brass, and inlaid with gold and many a rich 
 gem-stone. The Moor turned it over, and lifted it on 
 the point of his lance. The jewels gleamed in the sun- 
 light, and shone with a beauty which was very tempting 
 to him. Save the helmet of Roland, which he coveted 
 above every thing else in the world, Ferrau had never 
 seen aught that pleased him so well. He unlaced his 
 own black-painted casque, and tried the jewelled helmet 
 on his head. It was a perfect fit, and he did not remove 
 it. He threw the other, with the raven plume still 
 waving from its crest, upon the ground by the side of 
 the murdered prince ; and then, setting spurs to his 
 steed, he galloped hastily onward toward the wood of 
 Ardennes. 
 
 Very soon afterward Roland, having followed as fast 
 as Brigliadoro would carry him, came up, and saw the 
 ill-fated Argalia stretched upon the grass, and the well- 
 known helmet and raven plume of Ferrau lying by his 
 side. 
 
 *- 
 
 "Ah, me!" said he. "What felony is this? This 
 deed was never done in fair fight. Beastly treachery 
 has done it. And thou, gallant Prince of Cathay, even 
 though thou wert a Pagan, thou shalt not be unavenged.' 
 
 Without pausing another moment, he gave rein to 
 Brigliadoro, and galloped swiftly in pursuit of the base- 
 hearted Moor. 
 
 In the mean while Angelica had become tired of wan- 
 dering about the meadow in search of flowers. She had 
 grown tired of the birds' songs, and tired of admiring
 
 L 96 The Story of Roland. 
 
 herself in the clear mirror of the pool : so she drank a 
 deep draught of water from the fountain of the nymphs, 
 and lay down upon a bed of roses and soft moss to sleep. 
 While she slept, Reinold of Montalban rode into the 
 meadow. He was very weary and very thirsty ; and he 
 stopped at the fountain of Merlin, and refreshed him- 
 self from its clear waters, little thinking what strange 
 quality they possessed. Then, leading Bayard by the 
 reins, he walked across the meadow toward the other 
 fountain. There he saw the Princess of Cathay fast 
 asleep among the roses. But in his eyes she was no 
 longer beautiful. No toothless crone would have seemed 
 so hideously ugly. He could not bear to look at her. 
 With the deepest disgust he turned away, and re- 
 mounted his good steed ; and then, as fast as the fleet- 
 footed Bayard could carry him, he hastened out of the 
 wood of Ardennes, and back to the court of the king. 
 
 Scarcely had the hero of Montalban turned his horse's 
 head, when Angelica awoke. She saw him riding away 
 from her, and she thought him the handsomest knight 
 she had ever seen. She called to him ; but the sound 
 of her voice only deepened the disgust which he felt, 
 and he rode all the more rapidly away. Soon afterward 
 she was startled by a noise on the other side of the 
 meadow. She heard the sound of angry words, and 
 then the rattle and clash of arms, as if two knights were 
 engaged in deadly combat. Thinking that one ol them 
 might be her brother, she ran to that part of the glade 
 whence the sounds came. There she saw Roland and
 
 In The Wood of Ardennes. 197 
 
 Ferrau, with lances in rest, in the very act of riding 
 against each other. But great was her dismay and 
 horror when she saw above the black armor of Ferrau 
 the jewelled helmet of Argalia. Well did she under- 
 stand che meaning of it all ; well did she know that her 
 brother would never come to meet her in the old tryst- 
 ing-place in the wood of Ardennes. Terrified and in 
 great distress, she put her magic ring again between 
 her lips, and quick as thought she was back in her 
 father's palace in the sunrise land of Cathay. 
 
 Roland had overtaken Ferrau upon the very border 
 of the forest-meadow ; and he had at once charged the 
 Moor with cowardly and unknightly behavior in slaying 
 Argalia while he slept. 
 
 " The Prince of Cathay was no Christian," said he ; 
 " yet he was a true knight, courteous and bold. Turn 
 now, and defend thyself, or take the punishment due to 
 a thief and a murderer ! " 
 
 The two warriors rushed toward each other with the 
 fury of tigers and the force of two mountain whirl- 
 winds. The lances of both were shivered in pieces, 
 and so great was the shock, that both reeled in their 
 saddles. Roland was the first to recover himself. 
 Quickly he dismounted from his steed, and drew his 
 good sword DurandaJ. 
 
 " Come on, thou stranger to every knightly virtue ! " 
 he cried, " come on, and thou shalt taste the edge ol 
 Durandal, the terror of all wrong-doers."
 
 198 The Story of Roland. 
 
 But Ferrau had suddenly remembered that his liege 
 lord, Marsilius of Spain, was in need of his help. He 
 turned not back, nor looked around, nor seemed to hear 
 the taunting challenge which Roland hurled after him. 
 He set spurs to his night-black steed, and galloped away 
 to the southward. Roland mounted Brigliadoro, and 
 gave chase. But the Moor's black horse was the swifter 
 of the two, and he and hisTider were soon lost to sight. 
 Then the hero changed his course, and slowly and 
 thoughtfully rode back toward Paris.
 
 Roland's Qitest in the Far East. 199 
 
 ADVENTURE XV. 
 
 ROLAND'S QUEST IN THE FAR EAST. 
 
 THE spring months passed away, and summer opened, 
 inviting heroes forth to manly action, and pious men 
 to pilgrimages. Yet Roland tarried idly at the king's 
 court. Very irksome, though, was this life of idleness 
 and inaction to our hero; and when he looked upon 
 the beaming blade of Durandal, or visited Brigliadoro 
 stamping impatiently in his stall, he longed more than 
 ever to ride out again on errands of knightly valor. 
 But Charlemagne liked not to part even for a day with 
 his favorite nephew. Week after week, under one pre- 
 tence and another, he persuaded the hero to stay with 
 him at court. And although there were jousts and 
 tournaments and hunting-parties, and much feasting 
 and merriment, and daily lessons in the school of good 
 Alcuin, yet the days seemed to lag, and every thing to 
 run slow, for the lack of more stirring action. By and 
 by the king noticed the growing unrest which filled the 
 mind of Roland, and he said, 
 
 " Dear nephew, this idleness seems little to become 
 one of thy restless nature. Methinks it wears upon 
 thee."
 
 2OO The Story of Roland. 
 
 " It does, indeed," answered Roland. " I should be 
 only too glad were some war to break out, or were I 
 sent on some errand of danger, that I might prove my 
 title to knighthood." 
 
 " There is not much likelihood of war," said Charle- 
 magne. "But, if there is any deed of knight-errantry 
 thou wouldst fain undertake, thou shalt have leave to 
 do what thou wilt." 
 
 Roland could not conceal his pleasure. 
 
 " In the fairy gardens of Falerina, in the Far East," : 
 said he, "I am told that the arms of the Trojan Hector 
 await the coming of a hero to claim them. I have 
 already the sword, the flaming Durandal, and I would 
 fain have the complete armor. With your leave I will 
 ride forth at once in quest of that fairyland ; and, if I j 
 win not for myself the arms of the godlike hero, I will 
 thereafter rest content with what I have." 
 
 When it became known that Roland was about to 
 ride out as a knight-errant, and when it was told what 
 the object of his quest was to be, all the folk in the 
 king's court tried to dissuade him from the undertak- 
 ing. No one knew just where the fairyland of Falerina 
 was, for there were no maps nor guide-books in those 
 days ; but every one knew that there were great diffi- 
 culties and dangers to be met and overcome before 
 reaching it. There were mountains and seas to be 
 crossed, and forests to be traversed, and monsters to be 
 slain, and wild beasts to be avoided or killed, and a 
 thousand unknown and impossible adventures to be
 
 Roland's Quest in the Far East. 201 
 
 undertaken, before any one could hope to reach that 
 far-away, cloud-covered land. And, if he should be so 
 fortunate as to get there, there were still the weird 
 enchantments of the witches and the fairies to be 
 guarded against, requiring the knowledge of a sor- 
 cerer, as well as the strength and skill of a warrior. 
 But Roland was not afraid of dangers and difficulties ; 
 and, the more his friends tried to dissuade him on this 
 account, the more determined he was to undertake the 
 quest. Then certain slanderers about the court, among 
 whom was Ganelon of Mayence, whispered that it was 
 the beautiful face of Angelica, rather than the match- 
 less arms of Hector, which was luring Roland to the 
 Far East ; and they said that his quest would more 
 likely be in the sunrise land of Cathay than in the 
 fairy gardens of Falerina. 
 
 To both the warnings of his friends and the evil 
 speaking of his foes, our hero turned a deaf ear. He 
 ordered Brigliadoro to be saddled ; he bade his mother, 
 and the gentle Alda, and his brother-knights good-by ; 
 and then, clad in complete armor, with Durandal at 
 his side, he rode away. For many days he travelled 
 straight toward the rising sun, veering now and then 
 to the southward. And he left behind him the broad 
 lands of France, and the fair plains of Lombardy, and 
 the heaven-towering Alps, and the great sea. And in 
 every village or country where he came he was welcomed 
 and kindly entertained as a Christian knight without 
 Tear and without reproach. And, when he inquired the
 
 202 The Story of Roland. 
 
 way to the Fairyland of Falerina, men pointed toward 
 the east, and shook their heads, and warned him to give 
 up the quest ere it was too late. But he, in no wise 
 disheartened, pressed onward, ever the more intent as 
 the dangers and difficulties seemed greater and nearer. 
 
 One day he came to a bridge which spanned a silent, 
 slow-flowing river, and whose farther end was hidden in 
 a dark mist. On the bridge a pretty maiden stood to 
 take toll of all that passed that way. Roland asked her 
 the way to Fairyland. 
 
 " It is not far from here," said she ; " but the way is 
 beset with many perils. If you will drink this cup of 
 water which I have dipped from the river beneath us, 
 your eyesight will become clearer, and you will be able 
 to see through the mists which hang over Fairyland, and 
 hide it from mortal sight." 
 
 But the maiden spoke of the Fairyland of Forgetful- 
 ness, and not of the gardens of Falerina. Roland 
 thoughtlessly took the cup which she offered him, and 
 drank the water which it held. In a moment he forgot all 
 his past life, all his ambitions and his hopes : he forgot 
 even his friends and himself, and the quest upon which 
 he was riding. He remembered nothing whatever. He 
 only knew that beside him was a beautiful maiden, and 
 that beyond the bridge whereon he stood was a fair 
 country full of pleasant sights and sounds, of singing 
 birds, and softly murmuring waterfalls, and gay flowers, 
 and luscious fruits. Farther away he saw a tall castle, 
 with towers and turrets pointing to the sky, and broad
 
 Roland's Quest in the Far East. 203 
 
 battlements, and a high wall surrounded by a deep, wide 
 moat. And, having drunk of the waters of Forgetful- 
 ness, he no longer had any will of his own. He suffered 
 the maiden to take him by the hand and to lead him 
 ; nto the halls of the castle. And there, with many 
 other knights who had been entrapped in the same way, 
 he passed days and weeks of pleasurable forgetful ness, 
 content with that which each moment brought him, and 
 having no remembrance of the past, and no thought nor 
 care for the future. 
 
 No one knows how long Roland would have staid a 
 prisoner in the castle of Forgetfulness, had it not been 
 for Angelica, the Princess of Cathay. I will tell you 
 how it happened that she came to set him free. 
 
 When Angelica returned to her own home, after the 
 death of her brother Argalia, she found that a fierce 
 Tartar chief named Agrican had long been waging war 
 with her father, King Galafron, and had forced him to 
 shut himself up in the walled town of Albracca. Week 
 after week the Tartars besieged Albracca, striving in 
 every way to pass the well-defended walls. But Gala- 
 fron and his folk held out bravely ; and, while they kept 
 their foes a safe distance from their gates, they sent 
 fleet messengers to Sacripant, king of Circassia, pray- 
 ing him to lend them some aid. Sacripant, who had 
 long courted the favor of the Princess Angelica, came 
 w ith an army of ten thousand men, and gave battle to 
 Agrican ouiaidi ^1 t>e city walls. Fierce was the fight, 
 and great was the loss of life on either side. At last
 
 204 The Story of Roland. 
 
 the Circassians cut their way through the ranks of the 
 beleaguering Tartars, and reached the gates, which were 
 opened to receive them. But so closely pressed were 
 they, that, ere the heavy barriers could be closed again, 
 a great part of the Tartar horde, with chief Agrican at 
 their head, had crowded through into the city. Then 
 was there terror and great distress in Albracca, and 
 fierce fighting in every street. Of the ten thousand 
 gallant Circassians whom Sacripant had led to the 
 affray, not half a thousand remained alive. And, in the 
 end, King Galafron, with the remnant of those who had 
 escaped the storm-like fury of the Tartars, was obliged 
 to retire into the citadel, a strong-built castle standing 
 high on a rock in the middle of the town. But the 
 castle was not very well supplied with arms, nor was it 
 victualled for a long siege ; and the hearts of all sank 
 within them as they thought of the day when starvation 
 would oblige them to open the gates to their fierce, un- 
 feeling foes. It was then that Angelica bethought her 
 of her magic ring. 
 
 " Do not yet give up all hope," she said. " Hold the 
 v citadel only seven days longer, and I will bring you 
 help. In the castle of Forgetfulness, which lies on the 
 borders of Fairyland, there are many brave knights 
 imprisoned, the noblest and the most daring in all 
 the world. I will hie me thither, and awaken them, 
 and call them to our aid." 
 
 Then she put the magic ring between her lips, and 
 flew unseen over the heads of the Tartar horde, and
 
 Roland's Quest in the Far East. 205 
 
 over the pleasant valleys and the wooded hills of Cathay, 
 and stopped not until she came to the land of the fairies 
 and the bridge which spans the River of Forgetfulness. 
 The maiden who stood there to take the toll offered her 
 the cup of water ; but she dashed it to the ground, and 
 went boldly onward to the castle. She passed through 
 the wide-open gates unchallenged ; for, in the dwelling 
 where Forgetfulness reigns, there is no need of warder 
 or of watchman. She entered the great banquet-hall, 
 where the guests and prisoners were at meat. There 
 at the table sat Roland, and Reinold of Montalban, and 
 many another fearless knight, eating and drinking and 
 making merry, and not once thinking of their knightly 
 vows, or caring to know each other. She stood in the 
 doorway, her book of enchantments in one hand, and a 
 trumpet in the other. She sang a song sweeter than 
 a siren's voice, and so loud and clear that it was echoed 
 in every nook and chamber of the sleepy old castle. 
 The knights, intent only on the pleasure of the passing 
 moment, scarcely raised their eyes to look at her. They 
 kept on feasting and laughing, and merrily joking, as 
 men are wont to do who never think of the morrow. 
 Then she raised the bugle-trumpet to her lips, and blew 
 a shrill, deep battle-call. At the first blast the knights 
 sprang to their feet, and gazed about in mingled aston- 
 ishment and shame. At the second, all the memories 
 of the past, all their hopes, all their ambition, came into 
 their minds again. With one accord they rushed in 
 hot haste from the banquet-table ; they hastened to the
 
 206 The Story of Roland. 
 
 armory and to the stables. Never before had there 
 been in that place such a buckling-on of armor, such a 
 mounting of war-steeds, such looks and words of brave 
 determination and hope. Old Oblivion, the lord of the 
 castle, who was alike deaf to every call of duty, and 
 blind to every noble impulse, shut himself up in the 
 lowest depths cf his dungeon-tower, fearful lest the 
 stirring sounds of Angelica's bugle might arouse in 
 him some slumbering thoughts of the great world out- 
 side. 
 
 It was not long until the awakened knights were fully 
 equipped with their arms and armor, and mounted on 
 their war steeds, ready to follow Angelica wherever she 
 might lead, or to undertake any adventure she might 
 direct. And they rode back over the now dry River of 
 Forgetfulness, and out of the world of fairyland and 
 enchantments, into the nobler world of reality, of action, 
 and of worthy effort. 
 
 On the third day they reached the country of Cathay, 
 and saw the ruin and the ravages that the fierce Tartars 
 had made. The harvests had been overrun, the vine- 
 yards had been trampled down, the villages had been 
 burned, and, where there had been plenty and happi- 
 ness, now naught was seen but smoking heaps and a 
 desolate desert-waste. The country-folk of Cathay had 
 hidden themselves from their pitiless foes in the moun- 
 tain fastnesses and in the thick woods. But, when they 
 heard that many of the most noted warriors of the Far 
 West were riding to the succor of their king at Albrac-
 
 Roland's Quest in the Far East. 207 
 
 ca, they came out of their hiding-places, and hailed 
 them as the saviors of their country. And every day, 
 as Roland and his comrades drew nearer to the be- 
 leaguered city, great numbers of Cathayan warriors 
 who had escaped from the Tartars, and who had been 
 scattered abroad through the land, came and joined 
 their standard. And when, at last, the tall towers of 
 Albracca rose before them, Roland found himself at 
 the head of an army of forty thousand fighting men. 
 Great was the astonishment and dismay of the Tartars 
 when this host burst unexpectedly upon them. Fearful 
 indeed was the din of battle that ensued. The belea- 
 guered Galafron, at the head of a handful of troops, 
 sallied out from the citadel, and joined the army of res- 
 cuers. And, always in the thickest of that fearful fight, 
 there Roland was seen, the flash of his angry eye and 
 the glitter of the wondrous sword Durandal carrying 
 terror into the ranks of the panic-stricken Tartars. 
 
 In vain did Chief Agrican strive to rally his men. 
 All was fear and confusion ; and most of his followers 
 Jiad at the first onset taken to shameful flight, followed 
 by the victorious Cathayans. He saw, that so long as 
 his foes were cheered on by Roland, who was a verita- 
 ble host within himself, there was little hope for the 
 Tartars, and he formed a cunning plan to draw him 
 away from the field. He placed his lance in rest, and 
 rode forward, as if he would make an attack upon 
 Roland. Then suddenly, as though in fright, he fled. 
 Roland followed in swift pursuit. The Tartar chief, as
 
 208 The Story of Roland. 
 
 if he thought his life in deadly peril, galloped away as 
 fast as his steed would carry him, and paused not until 
 he reached an open glade in a forest, far beyond the 
 sound of the battle's strife. Here he dismounted, to 
 drink of the water which gurgled up clear and pure in 
 a marble fountain which King Galafron had built, and 
 made sacred to the nymphs of the wood. Scarcely 
 had he wet his lips, when Roland rode up close behind 
 him. 
 
 "Ah, sir chief!" cried he, "how is it that the brave 
 flee thus from peril ? " 
 
 The Tartar leaped quickly into his saddle, and faced 
 his enemy. 
 
 " Sir knight, whoever you may be," said he, " I am 
 fain to look upon you as the bravest warrior I have ever 
 met. I have seen your daring ; and, foe though you be, 
 I cannot help admiring you. For your own sake I 
 would rather not touch you, for it would grieve me 
 much to see the death of so brave a man. Ride, there- 
 fore, back to your fellows, and goad me not to your 
 destruction." 
 
 Roland was pleased with this gallant speech of the 
 Pagan, and he answered mildly, "Pity it is that a 
 warrior so courteous as thou, and withal so brave, 
 should be an unbeliever. Let me urge thee to turn 
 Christian, and to go back in quietness to thy own land. 
 By doing so, thou mayst save both thy body and thy 
 soul." 
 
 The Tartar's cheek grew white with rage. " Even
 
 Roland's Quest in the Far East. 209 
 
 though thou wert Roland of France, or any other knight 
 as valiant, thou shouldst rue those taunting words! 
 Draw now thy sword, and save thyself if thou canst!" 
 
 Fiercely, then, did the two knights join in fight, and 
 the woods around them rang with the clashing of their 
 good blades. But so well were they matched, and so 
 skilfully was every thrust parried, that neither warrior 
 was able to touch the other, or to gain aught of advan- 
 tage over him. By and by the sun went down, and 
 the stars came out, and the moon arose ; and still the 
 fight seemed no whit nearer its end. The Tartar was 
 the first to ask a truce until morning. They tied their 
 horses to the overhanging branches of an elm, and lay 
 down upon the grass to rest, Roland near the foun- 
 tain, and Agrican by the trunk of a pine. The sky 
 was clear, and the stars shone bright, and the two 
 knights talked with each other as two friends would 
 talk. Roland pointed to the stars above them, and in 
 earnest tones spoke of the goodness and wisdom and 
 power of Him who had made them. The Tartar was 
 not used to speeches of this kind, nor did he relish the 
 way in which Roland sought to tell him of matters 
 belonging to the Christian faith. At last, growing 
 weary, and filled with disgust, he said, 
 
 " You may be a very brave knight, but you are cer- 
 tainly very ill bred to make me listen to things which 
 are so distasteful to me. If you will not let me sleep, 
 you might at least talk of fair ladies, and daring deeds, 
 and feats of arms, things much better fitted for the
 
 2 ip The Story of Roland. 
 
 understanding of a knight. But tell me, are you not 
 that Roland of France whose name and deeds are in 
 every one's mouth ? " 
 
 " I am Roland of France," was the answer. 
 
 "And why are you here, so far from home, fighting 
 for one who is no more a Christian than I ? " asked 
 Agrican. 
 
 " I am fighting for the rights of the Princess Angeli- 
 ca," answered Roland. " Every Christian knight has 
 a liege lady whom he is bound at all times to defend." 
 
 The Tartar arose, leaped upon his horse, and drew his 
 sword. Roland, much against his will, again mounted 
 Brigliadoro, and made ready to defend himself. Old 
 stories tell us, that the two warriors fought most furi- 
 ously until the sun arose, and that Roland's shield was 
 cut in twain, and his armor battered and scarred, and 
 every joint in his body shaken and bruised, so terri- 
 ble was the onset of the enraged Agrican. And they 
 say that at last, in sheer desperation, and as his only 
 hope, Roland gave his foe a stroke with the sword 
 Durandal, that laid him low at his feet. Quickly then, 
 he dismounted from Brigliadoro. Tears of true, heart-' 
 felt sorrow, streamed from his eyes as he raised the 
 dying chief tenderly in his arms, and laid him on the 
 marble rim of the fountain. 
 
 " Pagan and foe, though thou wert," murmured Ro- | 
 land, " yet thou wert a man, and a most worthy knight ! " 
 
 And there on the rim of the fountain he left him, 
 clad in his full suit of armor, with his sword in his 
 hand, and his kingly crown on his head.
 
 THE COMBAT AT MIDNIGHT.
 
 How Reinold fared to Cathay. 2 1 1 
 
 ADVENTURE XVI. 
 
 HOW REINOLD FARED TO CATHAY. 
 
 You are curious to know how it happened that Rei- 
 nold of Montalban had been entrapped in the castle of 
 Forgetfulness to be liberated just in time to carry aid 
 to the distressed Albraccans ? I will tell you. 
 
 When the Princess Angelica returned to her father's 
 dwelling, after that fateful day in the wood of Ardennes, 
 she could not forget the noble form and bearing of the 
 hero of Montalban, as he had appeared to her when she 
 last saw him by the fountain of Merlin. So she ordered 
 that Malagis the wizard should be freed from his dun- 
 geon beneath the sea, and brought into her presence. 
 The little old man, very glad to see the light of day 
 once more, bowed reverently to the princess, and hum 
 bly waited for her to speak. 
 
 " Knowest thou the French knight who is called 
 Reinold of Montalban ? " asked she. 
 
 " I do, most worthy lady," was the wizard's answer. 
 " He is my cousin and my dearest friend." 
 
 "Listen, then," said the princess. "If thou wilt 
 promise to bring this noble knight, by fair means or
 
 1 1 2 The Story of Roland. 
 
 by foul, to Cathay, thou shalt have thy freedom, thy 
 book, and thy wizard's ring." 
 
 The old man bowed low, and promised. He would 
 have hazarded his soul for those things. He took his 
 book and his ring, and without a day's delay hastened 
 to return to France. 
 
 " Where hast thou been, wise cousin ? " asked Rei- 
 nold, as the dwarf bowed himself into his chamber. 
 
 " Only across the sea," was the answer. 
 
 " And what didst thou find across the sea ? " 
 
 "A very great treasure, but it is guarded by a 
 dragon so fierce and wakeful that I dared not go near 
 it. Men say that this treasure has lain there for ages, 
 waiting the coming of a hero brave enough to face the 
 dragon, and strong enough to slay him. Methought that 
 my cousin, Reinold of Montalban, might be that hero." 
 
 Very cunning were the wizard's words, and it was 
 not hard for him to persuade Reinold to go in quest of 
 the treasure. A ship with sails all set, impatient for 
 the wind, awaited the knight as he rode down to the 
 seashore. He stepped aboard, leading the horse Bay- 
 ard behind him. A light breeze sprang up : the sails 
 filled, and the ship sped gayly on its way across the sea. 
 There was no one on board save Reinold and his steea ; 
 but the wizard had assured him that the ship needed 
 neither pilot nor oarsman, and that it would sail straight 
 to the shore where the treasure lay under the watch- 
 ful eyes of the dragon. Two days the little vessel sped 
 over the waves like a thing of life; nor did Reinold
 
 How Reinold fared to CatJiay. 213 
 
 once doubt that the end of the voyage would be as the 
 wizard had said. On the third day he came to a long, 
 low shore and a goodly island, which seemed to be one 
 large garden adorned and beautified with every thing 
 that is pleasant to the sight. Close by the shore was a 
 wondrous castle, the fairest that Reinold had ever seen. 
 It was built of marble so white and clear that the walls 
 seemed like great mirrors in which were painted the 
 garden, the sea, and the sky. As the boat touched 
 the shore, three ladies, handsome as fairies, came out 
 of the castle, and greeted the knight. 
 
 " Welcome, brave hero ! " said they. " Welcome to 
 Joyous Castle ! Welcome in the name of our queen, 
 Angelica of Cathay ! " 
 
 Reinold heard the name of the fair princess with 
 loathing. He remembered her only as she had seemed 
 to him after he had drunk from the mystic waters of 
 Merlin's fountain. He thought of an old witch, hag- 
 gard and toothless and crippled, blear-eyed and gray, 
 mumbling her weird spells, and muttering curses. 
 Such to him was Angelica of Cathay. How he hated 
 and loathed her ! He turned him about in the ship, 
 and would not look at the fairy palace and the gardens, 
 which were said to be hers. The breeze again filled the 
 sails, and the little bark left the shore, and the marble 
 towers of Joyous Castle were soon out of sight. And a 
 great storm arose on the sea, and the waves ran moun- 
 tain high, and the ship was at the mercy of the winds. 
 A dark night came on, and Reinold was in fearful peril ;
 
 214 The Story of Roland. 
 
 but he stood calmly at the helm, and cared not at all 
 for the danger. In the morning the vessel ran upon 
 a wild, rock-bound shore, and was dashed in pieces by 
 the waves; but the hero and his horse escaped with 
 great difficulty by swimming to the land. 
 
 The country in which Reinold now found himself 
 was covered with a dark forest, where the owls hooted 
 dismally, and the wolves howled, and the goblins of the 
 wood held high carnival. As he made his way through 
 the dense underbrush, and among the dead and decay- 
 ing trees, he espied a low-built, gloomy castle standing 
 in the middle of a marsh. He rode up to the gate, and 
 called out loudly to the warder to open and let him in. 
 For a time there was no answer ; and, indeed, no sign 
 or sound of life did he hear. Then, suddenly, there 
 was a rattling of chains and a ringing of iron bars; 
 and the gate flew open, and four giants rushed out 
 upon the knight. Before he could draw his sword, or 
 in the least defend himself, he was dragged from his 
 horse, and bound with iron chains, and carried into the 
 courtyard. 
 
 " Why this rudeness to a stranger and a knight ?" he 
 asked, as soon as he was given time to speak. 
 
 The giants answered him not a word, but left him 
 lying helpless and alone on the stone floor. After a 
 while, an old woman came in to jeer and laugh at his 
 mishaps. 
 
 " A fine morsel thou wilt be for the dragon," said she. 
 " It is not often that he has a real Christian knight for
 
 How Reinold fared to Cathay. 215 
 
 his dinner, and thou wilt indeed make him gentle and 
 gladsome." 
 
 Reinold asked the woman what she meant, and was 
 told that on the morrow he was to be given to a terrible 
 dragon who had overrun and ravaged all that country, 
 and who could be appeased only by human blood. 
 
 " I fear him not," said the knight, " if they will but 
 unbind me, and give me my good Flamberge." 
 
 All night long Reinold lay bound in the cold and deso- 
 late courtyard, while Bayard galloped hither and thither 
 in the forest, seeking vainly for his master. Early 
 in the morning the four giants came again ; and, after 
 unbinding Reinold, they threw him, with his arms and 
 armor, into a deep-walled pit where the dragon was wont 
 to come for his daily meals. The knight, glad to find 
 that his limbs were free, and that his good sword Flam- 
 berge was in his hand, waited fearlessly for the coming 
 of the monster. Not long, however, had he to wait. 
 The horrid beast, his teeth gnashing with rage, and his 
 nostrils flaming with poisonous fumes, rushed into the 
 area, expecting to find, as usual, an easy prey. But 
 Reinold attacked him bravely with his good sword, and 
 made him pause in his hasty onset. Fierce and terrible 
 was the fight that followed. The sharp claws ot the 
 beast tore off the knight's armor piece by piece. His 
 head was laid bare ; his hauberk and breastplate were 
 broken ; the strokes of his sword fell harmless on the 
 iron scales which protected the creature's sides. Hard 
 would it have gone with the knight, had not good for-
 
 216 The Story of Roland. 
 
 tune favored him. Six feet above his head a beam pro- 
 jected into the pit. He felt his strength failing him ; 
 the great jaws of the beast were about to close upon 
 him. He called up all his energy, and with one mighty 
 effort leaped upon the beam. He was safe. The 
 dragon raged and fumed and threatened, but could not 
 reach him. Yet how, after all, would the good knight 
 escape ? The walls rose, high and smooth, still many 
 feet above him. There was no way to get out of the 
 pit, save by passing the dread monster below. 
 
 While the knight sat half-despairing on the friendly 
 beam, he heard a whirring of wings above him ; and a 
 fairy, which he at first mistook for a bird, alighted by 
 his side. 
 
 "Most worthy knight," said she, "fortune comes 
 always to the help of the brave. Now here are a ball 
 of wax and a strong net, which you may use as your 
 good sense may direct. But you must never forget that 
 this aid has been sent you by the Princess Angelica of 
 Cathay." 
 
 With these words the fairy flew away, and was seen 
 no more. But Reinold wondered whether she were not 
 really the princess herself in disguise. It was easy for 
 him to understand what to do with the presents she had 
 brought. He threw the cake of wax to the raging 
 dragon below. Eagerly the beast seized it between his 
 jaws, and, lo ! as Reinold had foreseen, his teeth were 
 glued fast together. Then, as the creature madly 
 sought to remove the wax with his claws^it was easy 
 
 i
 
 IN THE DRAGON'S DEN.
 
 How Reinold fared to Cathay. 2 1 7 
 
 for the knight to cast the net over him, and draw it 
 tightly about his limbs and body. Helpless now, the 
 great beast rolled upon the ground, an easy victim to 
 Reinold's trenchant blade. 
 
 It was no hard matter for Reinold to find his way out 
 of the pit, and into the wood again. There the good 
 horse Bayard waited for him, and greeted his coming 
 with a shrill neigh of pleasure. He looked around for 
 the gloomy castle where he had spent so many misera- 
 ble hours, but it was nowhere to be seen. He rubbed 
 his eyes, and fancied, that, after all, he might have been 
 only dreaming ; for his armor was whole as ever, and 
 his good blade Flamberge was clear and bright, and no 
 whit tarnished with foul dragon's blood. He mounted 
 his steed, and rode slowly and thoughtfully out of the 
 forest. But, just beyond, he came to the River of For- 
 getfulness and the bridge which spans it ; and there, 
 like Roland, he drank of the cup which the maiden 
 offered him, and was led helplessly away to the care- 
 forgetting castle of Old Oblivion.
 
 2 1 8 The Story of Roland. 
 
 ADVENTURE XVIL 
 
 IN THE GARDENS OF FALERINA. 
 
 HAVING defeated the Tartars before Albracca, and 
 driven them, as they supposed, forever from Cathay, 
 the French knights began to bethink them again of 
 their own country, and of the duties which they owed 
 to their liege lord, King Charlemagne. Reinold, burn- 
 ing with anger and shame because of the deception 
 which had brought him hither, turned away at once, 
 and, deaf to every entreaty of the grateful Cathayans, 
 hastened his journey back to France. But Roland 
 was not yet willing to give up the adventure which 
 he had undertaken ; and he resolved to make one fur- 
 ther trial to find the gardens of Falerina, and to win 
 the arms of the godlike Hector of Troy. So he bade 
 farewell to Angelica and to her father, King Galafron, 
 and set out on his quest for the land of the fairies ; 
 and the grateful people of Albracca showered blessings 
 upon his head as he passed out of their gates. And 
 many of the noblest lords and ladies of the realm rode 
 with him to the utmost bounds of their kingdom, where 
 they parted from him with many heartfelt thanks and 
 many a tearful godspeed.
 
 In the Gardens of Falerina. 219 
 
 " He is a Christian," said they as they rode back to .... 
 their homes, "and yet he is the noblest of men." 
 / And Roland rode alone through many strange lands!-' 
 inhabited by strange Pagan people, who looked upon ^ 
 him with wonderment as he passed. And so noble was 
 his countenance, so proud was his form, and so brilliant 
 was the armor in which he was clad, that the ignorant 
 folk often mistook him for a god ; but he pitied their 
 lack of knowledge and their error, and told them what 
 little he knew of Christ and of the holy saints. And 
 when he asked them to show him the way to Fairyland, 
 they could only shake their heads, and point toward 
 the setting sun. 
 
 One day, after having crossed a barren hill-country, 
 where not any thing was to be seen save huge bowlders 
 and lava-beds and yawning chasms, he came into a 
 wood so dark and dank and lonesome, that he felt that 
 this indeed must be the border-land between the world 
 of reality and the world of the fairies. Owls hooted 
 in the dead tree-tops ; gray wolves howled in the 
 thickets ; bats and vampires flew through the air ; hid- 
 eous creatures skulked among the trees. Had such a 
 thing as fear known lodgement in Roland's breast, he 
 would have turned back, and given up forever his quest 
 for Fairyland. But by and by the wood became less 
 dense, the trees and grass grew as in a park, and the 
 sun, which had been hidden behind a cloud, now shone 
 brightly through the leaves. Birds flitted and sang 
 among the branches ; and the lonesomeness and horrors 
 of the deeper forest gave place to light and hope.
 
 2 2O The Story of Roland. 
 
 As Roland rode leisurely along through this wood, 
 he was suddenly aroused by hearing cries, as of some 
 one in distress. Looking around, he saw that they 
 were uttered by a fair lady, bound hand and foot to a 
 tree, and guarded by an armed knight. 
 
 " How, now ! " cried Roland, riding nearer. " What 
 is the meaning of this ? How dare you, who seem to be 
 a knight, thus maltreat the helpless and the beautiful ? " 
 
 The knight explained that the lady whom he held as 
 his prisoner was dishonest, untruthful, and treacherous 
 to her best friends, and that she was only being pun- 
 ished for her misdemeanors as she deserved. 
 
 "Her very name is Deceit," he said; "and, if she 
 were once liberated, there would be no end to the mis- 
 chief she would cause." 
 
 But the lady, tears streaming from her eyes, denied 
 these charges, and begged Roland to set her free. And 
 our hero, whose ears were always open to the pleadings 
 of those in distress, without further parley placed his 
 lance in rest, and challenged the knight to a trial of 
 arms. 
 
 "If after what I have told you," said the knight, 
 " you wish to befriend such a creature as she, I have 
 not a word further to say." And, with a motion of dis- 
 gust, he turned, and rode quickly away. 
 
 Roland very gallantly released the lady from the 
 cords which bound her ; and, as it was still a long way 
 out of the wood, he helped her to a seat behind him, 
 and together the two rode onward toward the west
 
 In the Gardens of Falerina. 221 
 
 And the lady told him that they were now entering the 
 enchanted regions of Fairyland, and that he must be 
 very cautious in whatever he undertook to do. Just as 
 they reached the edge of the wood, they met another 
 young lady, a beautiful damsel, riding on a white palfrey 
 gayly attired in trappings of crimson velvet, with silver 
 bells hanging from the reins. 
 
 " Ah, sir knight ! " said she, courtesying very hum- 
 bly, "it is indeed lucky that I met you on this spot. 
 Had you gone ten yards farther, you would have been 
 in plain sight of the gardens of Falerina, and you would 
 have been slain by the watchful dragon who sits before 
 the gate. If you would succeed in your venture, listen 
 to me. Stay where you are until morning : stir not a 
 foot farther, or you will be lost. Just at sunrise every 
 day, the gates are thrown wide open for a time ; and 
 then, and only then, if you are wise, you can enter the 
 fairy gardens. But beware of the dragon ! " 
 
 Then she gave him a little book in which was a map 
 of the enchanted garden and a picture of Falerina's 
 palace, and directions how to reach it, and how to enter 
 it. And she told Roland that the fairy queen had been 
 a long time shut up in one of the chambers of her 
 palace, trying to forge a magic sword that should be 
 proof against all kinds of witchery, and sharp enough 
 to slay even those whose lives were protected by the 
 unseen powers. 
 
 "For," said the damsel, "she has read in the book of 
 Fate that a hero will come out of the West, and that he
 
 222 The Story of Roland. 
 
 will trample down her fair garden, and take from her 
 all her witch-power." 
 
 " And is the sword yet finished ? " asked Roland. 
 
 " I think it is," answered the damsel. " And, if you 
 can once seize upon it, you will be safe from all the 
 magic snares that are set for you. Yet many men have 
 tried to enter these wonderful gardens, and every one 
 has failed." 
 
 While they were yet talking, the sun had gone down ; 
 and Roland, thinking it better to take the advice of the 
 damsel, and not attempt to go farther that night, dis- 
 mounted from Brigliadoro, and lay down under the 
 friendly shelter of a cedar-tree to rest. He had no 
 sooner fallen asleep than the woman whom he had 
 rescued in the forest, and who was really as false- 
 hearted and base as the strange knight had represented 
 her to be, mounted his war-steed, and rode away, carry- 
 ing the sword Durandal with her. 
 
 When Roland awoke in the morning, and saw how he 
 had been deceived and robbed, he was both angered 
 and disheartened. He felt that the dangerous adven- 
 ture which he had undertaken might, after all, prove to 
 be a failure. Yet his knightly vows would not allow' 
 him to give up a quest which he had once begun, and 
 he resolved to go forward as he had at first intended. ! 
 The sky began to redden in the east : the sun would 
 soon rise, and the gates of the garden would be thrown 
 open. If he would enter those enchanted grounds, if 
 he would prove himself worthy to wear the armor of
 
 In the Gardens of Palermo, > 223 
 
 the godlike Hector, he must be ready to act without 
 delay. He tore off the stout branch of an elm to serve 
 him instead of a sword, and went boldly onward in the 
 way which the damsel on the palfrey had pointed out. 
 A very few steps brought him to the top of the hill, 
 whence he could look down into the valley beyond. 
 There a wonderful sight met his view. Not half a 
 league away was the entrance to the long-sought-for 
 gardens, closed now by strong iron gates hanging 
 between columns of brass. In front of the gates the 
 sleepless dragon paced to and fro, while high above them 
 soared a mountain eagle. The wall was built of white 
 marble, and was very high ; but Roland, from his place 
 on the hill, could see the trees and the fountains and 
 the silvery lake beyond, and farther away he could 
 discern the glass towers and turrets of Falerina's castle, 
 shining like silver in the early morning light. 
 
 Roland held the green elm-branch before him so as 
 to hide himself from the ever-watchful eyes of the 
 dragon, and went slowly forward toward the gates. 
 The sun, now beginning to rise, gilded the tree-tops, and 
 the far-off mountain crags, and the tall turrets of the 
 fairy castle, with a golden light. The watchman on the 
 tower blew a long, silvery call upon his bugle-horn, which 
 was echoed and re-echoed from hill to valley, and from 
 river to lake, until it was heard all over that Fairyland. 
 
 " Awake, awake !" he cried. "The daystar comes; 
 the king of life blesses us again. Open wide the gates, 
 and let floods of light pour in upon us 1"
 
 224 The Story of Roland. 
 
 The great iron gates swung round on their hinges : a 
 passage-way was opened, wide enough for a score of 
 knights to ride through abreast; and from the fairy 
 gardens within there came the sound of music sweeter 
 than any Roland had ever before heard. But he had 
 no time to listen to these enchanting sounds ; for he 
 knew that the gates would soon close, and that the 
 present golden opportunity would never return. The 
 dragon stood now directly in the gateway, its eyes flash- 
 ing fire, its nostrils smoking with sulphur-fumes, its 
 hooked claws digging into the soft earth, its clammy 
 wings beating the air. To a man of less heroic mettle 
 than Roland the sight of the beast would have caused 
 ^unspeakable terror. But Roland faltered not. He 
 strode straight onward, holding his shield before his 
 face, that he might not breathe the poisonous breath of 
 the monster. In his right hand he held the gnarly elm- 
 branch, which he had hastily stripped of its green 
 leaves. Very near he drew to the hideous beast; he 
 felt its hot breath; its fangs were almost upon him. 
 He leaped forward. With a quick movement he thrust 
 the branching boughs between the gaping jaws of the 
 creature with such force that they stuck fast. The 
 dragon stopped. Its mouth was propped wide open by 
 the ugly elm-branch. In vain it clutched at it with its 
 crooked claws, and sought to free itself. Roland paused 
 not a moment. He leaped clear over the back of the 
 monster. Swiftly he ran toward the gates. He reached 
 them, and passed through, just as they creaked on their
 
 In the Gardens of Falerina. 225 
 
 hinges, and closed with a mighty crash behind him. 
 His foe, the dragon, had freed its jaws from the elm- 
 branch, but too late to do him any harm ; for the mas- 
 sive gates were between them. 
 
 Roland looked around him. On his right was a fair 
 fountain, pouring water by a hundred silver jets into a 
 little lake whose surface was dotted with water-lilies, 
 among which swam dozens of noble white swans. Out 
 of the lake a little river flowed, meandering through 
 meadows bright with roses and violets, and flowers of 
 every name and hue. In the middle of the stream 
 stood a marble image, an image of a river-nymph, 
 such as in the golden days haunted fountain and water- 
 fall and every flowing stream. Above the brows of the 
 image an inscription was written in Greek: "SEEK- 
 
 EST THOU THE ENCHANTED PALACE? FOLLOW THE 
 
 RIVER." The knight, never doubting, did as the in- 
 scription directed. The stream flowed through scenes 
 more delightful than he had ever dreamed of. And so 
 sweet was the music with which the air was filled, so 
 pleasant were the perfumes, so beautiful were the birds, 
 the flowers, the waterfalls, the grottos, and the garden- 
 walks, that, if Roland had not borne well in mind his 
 knightly vows, he would have been sorely tempted to 
 live amid these joys forever. 
 
 After a long walk, which, however, seemed to him 
 only too short, he reached the fairy palace of Falerina. 
 It was a gorgeous and most beautiful structure, built 
 within and without of glass and precious stones, and
 
 226 The Story of Roland. 
 
 adorned with every thing that is pleasing to the senses. 
 The doors were wide open, and bevies of fairies were 
 passing in and out, singing gayly, and making the palace 
 resound with the music of their sweet voices. They 
 cast inquiring glances at the strange knight as they 
 passed; but, as they had never known an enemy in 
 Fairyland, they thought him only some stranger whom 
 the queen had invited to her court. Seeing that every 
 one moved freely from one chamber to another in that 
 vast palace, without hinderance and without ceremony, 
 Roland walked boldly in. For some time he strolled 
 carelessly about, listening to the music, and watching 
 the nimble dancers in the great halls, or admiring the 
 many wonderful things with which the palace was 
 stored. At last, in a lower chamber which opened into 
 the garden, he found Falerina, the fairy queen. She 
 was sitting alone, as was her wont in the earlier hours 
 of the day, while her attendants amused themselves in 
 the garden. Before her, leaning against the wall, was 
 the magic sword, the blade which had cost her so 
 many weeks of anxious labor. She had but lately fin- 
 ished it and tested it, and now she was quietly admir- 
 ing her own good looks as they were reflected from its 
 bright silvery sides. And very beautiful indeed was 
 she, so beautiful, that Roland paused in reverent ad- 
 miration. She was dressed in rich white robes, from 
 every fold of which rare jewels gleamed ; and upon her 
 head was a golden crown, flashing with diamonds. She 
 seemed something more divine than a mere fairy, and
 
 In the Gardens of Falerina. 227 
 
 akin to the Peris of whom Roland had heard the Sara- 
 cens speak. 
 
 The hero paused but a moment. Before the fairy 
 could hinder, or call for help, he seized the magic 
 sword, and raised it threateningly above her head. 
 
 " Yield, and I will spare thee ! " he cried. 
 
 The queen, never having known such thing as fear, 
 sat still, and said not a word. 
 
 "Show me the Trojan Hector's arms," said he, "and 
 thou shalt live." 
 
 "Surely," then answered the queen, "thou art a 
 brave warrior thus to threaten me in my own dwelling. 
 Methinks thou art Knight Roland from the West." 
 
 " Roland is my name," said he. " And I have come 
 in quest of Hector's arms. Tell me where I shall find 
 them." 
 
 " I shall tell thee nothing," answered the fairy, fold- 
 ing her arms. 
 
 When Roland found that neither threats nor prayers 
 would persuade her to tell him the secret, he carried 
 her gently into the garden, and, with cords which Mala- 
 gis the wizard had given him, he bound her, hand and 
 foot, to a beech-tree, so that no fairy could ever unbind 
 her. And he went out of the palace to follow his 
 quest as best he might, well knowing now that no 
 witchery of the fairy queen could harm him. As he 
 was again following the course of the winding river 
 through meadows and groves, and many a scene of de- 
 light, he bethought him of the book which the damsel
 
 228 The Story of Roland. 
 
 on the white palfrey had given him. He opened it, and 
 looked at the map. There was nothing said about the 
 place where Hector's arms were hidden. But he saw 
 that on the south there was a gate which was always 
 open. Between the gate and the palace was a large 
 i lake ; and in the lake, the book said, there was a siren, 
 whose song charmed all passers-by, and had caused the 
 death of many a brave knight. 
 
 As he was now not very far from the lake, Roland 
 resolved that he would rid himself of another danger 
 by seeking the siren, and silencing her voice. As he 
 strolled across the meadows, he gathered great num- 
 bers of daisies and violets, blue-bells and buttercups, 
 and filled his helmet and his ears with them. Then 
 he stopped, and listened if he could hear the birds sing. 
 He could see their mouths open, their throats swell, 
 and their plumage ruffle ; but he could not hear the 
 slightest sound. He felt now that he was proof against 
 the enchanting song of the siren, for music never 
 lured a deaf man to his destruction. He went boldly 
 forward to the lake, and wandered leisurely along the 
 shore, admiring its mirror-like surface and the clear- 
 ness and great depth of the water. Suddenly, near the 
 centre of the pool a ripple appeared ; and then a strange 
 creature, somewhat like a bird, and somewhat like a 
 fish, arose above the surface, and began to sing. The 
 siren was not at all beautiful ; but her song was so 
 sweet, that all the birds were silenced, and came flying 
 down in great flocks by the shore to listen. The cattle
 
 In the Gardens of Falerina. 229 
 
 and the wood-beasts hastened in troops and crowds to 
 the waterside, where they stood fixed and entranced by 
 the soft, melodious strains. The leaves of the trees 
 quivered in sympathy with the sounds, and even the 
 rocks seemed to hearken and to smile. Roland alone 
 was unmoved, because he heard nothing. Yet as the 
 siren still sat in the water, and kept on singing, he 
 made a pretence of yielding to the charms of her be- 
 witching song. He fell down among the flowers by 
 the lakeside, and closed his eyes as if in a trance. The 
 siren ended her song. The birds and the beasts went 
 slowly back to their places, and all was quiet about the 
 lake. Roland lay very still. The siren swam close to 
 the shore, thinking to seize him, as she had seized 
 many another brave knight, and drag him down into 
 her dismal den at the bottom of the lake ; but Roland 
 arose suddenly, and grasped her long neck. Fearful 
 were the struggles of the creature, and loud were the 
 songs that she sung; for she hoped even yet to be- 
 witch the knight with the strange power of music. But 
 the hero raised the magic sword of Falerina above her, 
 and with one stroke severed her hideous head. 
 
 Freed now from this last source of danger, Roland 
 started out again in search of the arms of Hector. He 
 followed every garden-walk to its end; he sought in 
 every grove and every grotto: yet he could nowhere 
 find the wished-for prize. He asked the fairies whom 
 he sometimes met ; but they seemed downhearted and 
 sad, and shook their heads, saying that they had never
 
 230 The Story of Roland. 
 
 heard of Hector, nor of his arms. But an old man, who 
 had lived in Fairyland for a great many years, told him 
 that the object of his search had long ago been carried 
 into another garden, and that he could not hope to find 
 it without undergoing many hardships, and meeting 
 many dangers of which he now knew nothing. 
 
 Toward evening Roland found his way back again 
 to the enchanted palace of the queen, but all was 
 changed. The fairies whom he had seen there in the 
 earlier part of the day had fled, leaving the splendid 
 mansion silent and desolate. The music had ceased; 
 shadows had taken the place of sunshine ; the flowers 
 had closed their petals ; the birds had flown away. As 
 the knight walked across the deserted courtyard, the 
 only sound that he heard was the echo of his own foot- 
 steps on the hard pavement. The silence was more 
 dreadful to him than any danger that had ever threat- 
 ened him. The hapless fairy queen was still bound 
 fast to the beech-tree where he had left, her but she 
 was no longer happy and defiant. Bitterly she wept, 
 and earnestly did she beg him to set her free. He 
 asked her again where the arms of the Trojan iiero 
 were hidden. 
 
 "By my troth," said she, "I know not. They were 
 long ago given into the keeping of my sister, Morgan 
 the Fay. If you would win them, you must make your 
 way to her castle, and prove by your prowess that you 
 are worthy of the prize. Then, when Fortune is ready 
 to award her gifts, be sure that you let not the golden 
 opportunity slip by unimproved."
 
 In the Gardens of Falerina. 231 
 
 The hero loosed the fairy queen from the magic 
 cords which bound her. He called around her the 
 frightened attendants, and assured them that he had 
 no wish to harm either them or their queen. Then he 
 bade the fair Falerina good-by, and went forth from her 
 gardens in search of the far-famed dwelling of Morgan 
 the Fay.
 
 232 The Story of Roland. 
 
 ADVENTURE XVJIL 
 
 MORGAN THE FAY. 
 
 THE castle of Morgan the Fay stood in a pleasant 
 valley between two forest-crowned mountains. It was 
 I built of the finest white marble, as pure as alabaster, 
 and as clear as ice. The high walls which hemmed it 
 in on every side were of granite ; and the deep moat 
 was full of water, and spanned by a single bridge. A 
 mighty giant, clad in steel armor, and wielding a huge 
 club, kept the bridge, and allowed no one to pass over 
 it unchallenged. And this giant had never yet been 
 foiled or beaten in battle ; for, whatever might be the 
 strength or the prowess of his foe, his own strength 
 was greater. And no living knight had ever entered 
 this fairy castle save as the prisoner of its grim warder. 
 
 Now, when Roland, eagerly pursuing his quest, 
 approached this bridge, the giant, as was his wont, 
 challenged him to a combat. The knight was nowise 
 loath to measure arms with a churl whose only virtue 
 was his strength. He drew the sword which Queen 
 Falerina with such infinite pains had wrought, and met 
 the giant on his own ground. The boasted armor of
 
 Morgan tJie Fay. 233 
 
 the bridge-warder was no proof against the biting 
 strokes of the magic blade. He would have been killed 
 upon the spot, had he not saved himself by a cunning 
 stratagem. Watching his chances, he seized the knight 
 in his arms, and leaped with him into the moat. He 
 could live in water as well as in air, and he hoped by 
 this means to drown the foe whom he could not over- 
 come by force of arms. But so well did Roland still 
 ply his sword, although half choked with the cold water, 
 that the giant was glad to let go his hold. The knight 
 rose to the surface, and climbed upon the bridge. The 
 gates were wide open, and he walked boldly through. - 
 He found himself, much to his astonishment, in a broad 
 field, where the ground was covered with diamonds and 
 pearls, rubies and emeralds, and every other sort of 
 gem-stone, as thickly as the spring meadows are covered 
 with sprouting grass. But he stopped not to gather or 
 to admire. He hastened across the field, and came into 
 a garden which was far more beautiful than that which 
 belonged to Falerina. Every thing tempted him to 
 stop, and to pursue no farther his uncertain quest. The 
 shady walks, the flowery borders, the cool bowers, the 
 plashing waterfalls, the rippling stream, the singing 
 birds, the sunshine, and the breeze, all seemed to 
 say, " Stay ! here is happiness enough." But the hero 
 allowed none of these things to tempt him. He kept"\ 
 always in mind that part of his knightly vows which 1 
 forbade him to give up any quest that he had once 
 undertaken until he had followed it out to the end
 
 234 The Story of Roland. 
 
 In the middle of the garden there was a beautiful 
 fountain, and near it was a bower of surpassing loveli- 
 ness. Around the bower a score of fairies danced, 
 keeping time with the most bewitching strains of music. 
 As Roland came near to this spot, the timid creatures 
 ceased their merriment, and fled in great affright. He 
 peeped into the bower, and beheld a being more beauti- 
 ful than his dreams had ever pictured. It was Morgan 
 the Fay, fast asleep on a bed of roses. Very small was 
 she, as, indeed, were all the folk in this garden, and 
 so wondrously fair that the knight stood long still, as if 
 entranced. And in fact it was only by bearing always 
 in mind his duty as a knight, that he resisted the 
 temptation to give up all his ambitious hopes, and, for- 
 getting the busy world of men, to swear fealty to the 
 fairy queen. Long he might have stood thus gazing, 
 .and wavering between duty and inclination, had he not 
 heard a voice cry out, " Seize the beauty by the forelock 
 while yet the golden moment lasts ! " 
 
 Then Roland noticed for the first time that the back 
 part of the fay's head was quite bare and smooth, while 
 above her forehead there was a rich growth of long 
 golden hair. It was thus that men in the earlier days 
 pictured the head of old Father Time. The knight was 
 surprised at hearing the voice, and he thought not once 
 of obeying its strange command. He looked up. A 
 wondrous sight met his eyes. Halfway between earth 
 and sky, hanging in mid-air, he saw, as he thought, a 
 great and busy city. There he beheld tall towers and
 
 Morgan the Fay. 235 
 
 crystal palaces, and churches with their spires pointing 
 heavenward, and bustling market-places, and long lines 
 of streets crowded with hurrying men and women, and 
 cool, shaded avenues where knights and ladies walked, 
 and all that makes up the glory, the beauty, and the 
 misery of a well-peopled burgh. For a time he forgot 
 where he was, and all about the errand which had taken 
 him there ; and he imagined himself to be no longer a 
 knight-errant courting danger, and bound on deeds of 
 love and daring, but a busy merchant in that air-built 
 city, intent upon showing his wares, and eagerly count- 
 ing his gains. While he still gazed, the vision slowly 
 faded away. Churches and palaces and market-places 
 and busy streets melted into thin airy clouds, and then 
 were seen no more. 1 And Roland, as if awakened from 
 a trance, remembered himself again, and the quest upon 
 which he was bound. He looked into the bower wher% 
 Morgan the Fay had been sleeping, but she was not 
 there. She had arisen, and with the lightness of a 
 leaf driven about by the fickle autumn wind she was 
 dancing before the fountain. And as she danced, she 
 sang, 
 
 Seek'st thou gifts from Morgan le Fay? 
 Seize her forelock whilst thou may, 
 Let not dreams thy purpose stay: 
 She'll not come another day. 
 Fortune's a fickle fairy. 
 
 See Note 13 at the end of this volume.
 
 236 The Story of Roland. 
 
 Once, and only once, men say, 
 To every one she shows the way 
 To gain the good for which we pray. 
 While the sun shines, make the hay. 
 Fortune's a fickle fairy." 
 
 Roland hesitated. Had he been attacked by giants, 
 or set upon by fierce beasts, or had the doughtiest hero 
 in all the world challenged him to a duel, or had he 
 been called upon to perform any deed of strength or 
 daring, he would not have paused to think, or to cal- 
 culate his chances. But to seize Morgan the Fay, this 
 fairy Fortune, while she danced in whirling mazes before 
 him, he wondered how it could be done. While yet 
 he waited and doubted, the fay suddenly bounded away, 
 and fled from him with the fleetness of a deer hunted 
 by hounds. He followed as fast as his feet would carry 
 him, resolved now that nothing should hinder him from 
 attaining that fortune whose favors are but seldom with- 
 held from the brave. But the fairy, although at times 
 almost within his grasp, was not easily caught. She 
 led him a long chase through gardens and fields, and 
 among thickets of underbrush and briers, and over 
 many a barren, stony waste. And at last she flew over 
 the top of a snow-crowned mountain, and the dis- 
 appointed knight never saw her again. And a storm of 
 rain and hail burst from the clouds above ; and the light- 
 nings flashed, and the thunder rolled, and all the demons 
 of the air seemed to be abroad. And a gaunt and pale- 
 faced witch came out of a cavern on the mountain-side
 
 Morgan the Fay. 237 
 
 with a scourge of leather thongs in her hand, and she 
 drove the hero down the slope, and back again into the 
 valley, lashing him at every step furiously and without 
 pity. 
 
 "Who are you?" asked he, meekly receiving his 
 punishment. "Who are you who dare thus to scourge 
 a peer of France ? " 
 
 " My name is Repentance," answered the bag. " It 
 is my duty to punish every one, who through hesitation 
 or neglect fails to seize the fairy fortune at that one 
 golden moment which is allotted him. Go thou, now, 
 back to France. Thy quest is vain. The prize which 
 thou sought has been won by another." 
 
 When Roland came down again into the valley, he 
 looked to see the snow-white castle of Morgan the Fay, 
 and he thought to find himself still in the gardens of 
 Fairyland. But it was not so. Castles and towers, 
 rivers and fountains, flowers and birds, dragons and 
 giants, and all that had helped to make up those won- 
 drous scenes, had vanished like the mirage with which 
 he had been so enraptured. Splendid dreams had 
 given place to sober reality. The hero saw before him 
 the desert plains and the rocky mountains of Persia; 
 and a voice whispered to him that fame and fortune 
 were to be attained, not through the pursuit of fairy 
 phantoms and vain chimeras, but by honest, worthy 
 deeds, and noble efforts for the bettering of humanity. 
 In his hasty pursuit of the fairy he had lost the magic 
 sword that he had taken from Falerina. He was now
 
 238 The Story of Roland. 
 
 without arms, and he had no horse. He was a stran- 
 ger, alone in a strange land ; and many a weary league 
 of toil and unknown dangers lay between him and 
 sweet France. 
 
 As he stood at the foot of the mountain, pondering 
 upon this strange ending of his visionary quest, an old 
 man drew near, riding upon a mule, and leading a war- 
 steed fully caparisoned, with saddle and bridle and 
 trappings of velvet and gold. Across the saddle-bows 
 lay a sword, sheathed in its scabbard, but whose hilt 
 fairly shone with its wealth of priceless gems. The 
 horse was his own lost Brigliadoro, and the sword was 
 Durandal. 
 
 " Sir knight," said the old man very courteously, 
 " allow me to be your squire. I bring you your horse 
 and sword. Mount, I pray you, and let us hasten back 
 to France and to Charlemagne, who is in need of your 
 help." 
 
 "But the arms of Hector are not yet mine," an- 
 swered Roland ; " and I doubt if I may honorably return 
 without them." 
 
 "You can scarcely do otherwise," answered the 
 squire ; " for while you waited and dreamed, and hesi- 
 tated to seize the fairy by the forelock, another knight, 
 a Tartar prince, went boldly in, and seized the prize 
 and bore it away. And he is even now well on his way 
 toward France ; for he has vowed that he will win from 
 you the sword Durandal, and thus make all of Hector's 
 matchless arms his own."
 
 Morgan tJie Fay. 239 
 
 Then Roland mounted Brigliadoro, and, followed by 
 the good squire, rode bravely back toward France. 
 But he coveted no longer the arms of Trojan Hector, 
 and felt only happy in the possession of his own.
 
 240 The Story of Roland. 
 
 ADVENTURE XIX. 
 
 HOW OGIER REFUSED A KINGDOM. 
 
 LONG had been Roland's fruitless quest for the arms 
 of Trojan Hector; and many were his adventures, as, 
 wiser but no richer, he fared homeward again. Time 
 would fail me to tell of the strange lands that he trav- 
 ersed, of the seas that he crossed, of the monsters that 
 he slew, and of his many knightly feats of arms. And, 
 when it was known that he had come back to France 
 without the prize for which he had been seeking, many 
 unkind words were whispered among the peers. 
 
 "A true knight," said old Ganelon, "never gives up 
 an undertaking once begun. Any but a coward would 
 rather die than say, ' I have failed.' " 
 
 Others whispered, that it was not the arms of Hector 
 at all, that Roland had been in quest of, but rather the 
 love of Angelica, the Princess of Cathay. 
 
 " And now, since she has slighted him, and cast him 
 off," said some, " he comes back again to lord it over 
 his betters, as of yore. Yet it is said that he did many 
 valiant deeds in the Far East." 
 
 " So much valor," said others, " would have beec 
 better spent in the service of the king."
 
 How Ogier refused a Kingdom. 241 
 
 Charlemagne had been beset with enemies on every 
 side. The Moors of Spain had broken over the moun- 
 tain wall of the Pyrenees, and had again overrun Gas- 
 cony, and carriedJirfi-and .satord into the fairest portions 
 of Southern France. The Saxons, ever restless and ill 
 at ease, had again taken up arms against the empire. 
 The wild Hungarians had been making inroads into the 
 eastern provinces; and the Lombards were ready at 
 any time to rise in rebellion. Very gladly, therefore, 
 did the king welcome his valiant nephew back to 
 France, for he needed the help of his strong arm. 
 
 One day early in spring there came to Charlemagne's 
 court a number of Danish knights bearing a message 
 from their king, the false-hearted Godfrey of Denmark. 
 They brought from Godfrey a great store of rich pres- 
 ents for Charlemagne, and treasure more than enough 
 to make amends for the tribute which had so long been 
 neglected and left unpaid. And the Danish king prayed 
 Charlemagne that he would pardon his former miscon- 
 duct, and receive him once more into humble and faith- 
 ful vassalage; for pirates and strange sea-kings from 
 the Far North had come down upon the coast of Den- 
 mark, and were robbing and burning, and carrying ter- 
 ror into the very heart of the country, and Godfrey 
 hoped that Charlemagne would aid him in driving out 
 the invaders. Charlemagne, although not always quick 
 to forgive, was quite ready at this trying time to make 
 friends with the Dane. And he kindly entertained the 
 messengers, and sent them back on the morrow, with
 
 242 The Story of Roland. 
 
 assurances that he would pardon the offences of King 
 Godfrey, and send him the wished-fcr aid. Then he 
 called Ogier the Dane into his presence. 
 
 "Ogier," said he, "your father, the king of Den- 
 mark, is sorely pressed by his enemies, and needs our 
 help. No one knows better than yourself how he has 
 neglected and cast you off among strangers. And yet 
 it is our wish that you lead a company of warriors to 
 his aid." 
 
 " It is well," answered Ogier, " Naught save death 
 can eveiTexcuse a son from helping his father." 
 
 A thousand knights, the bravest in all France, at 
 once enlisted under Ogier's banner ; and without a 
 day's delay they began their march toward Denmark. 
 With Ogier, and next to him in command, was Roland ; 
 and the very presence of the two heroes inspired the 
 whole of the little army with high-hearted enthusiasm 
 and courage. Their march was rapid, and not long 
 were they in reaching the land of the Danes. But the 
 foe whom they sought had fled; for, when the rude 
 sea-kings heard of the coming of the steel-clad warriors 
 of the South, they hastily embarked in their ships again, 
 and sailed across the sea to other shores. They lived 
 by pillage and robbery, and they were fearful of risking 
 a battle with an enemy so renowned and powerful. 
 
 Ogier with his little army now rode on toward his 
 father's castle. But, as liey drew near, they saw the 
 towers draped in black, and heard the bells tolling a 
 solemn knell. A black banner, on which the arms of
 
 How Ogier refused a Kingdom. 245 
 
 King Godfrey were rudely painted, floated above the 
 gate. And a company of knights, all clad in mourning, 
 came out to meet and welcome the heroes. 
 
 "What mean all these signs of sorrow?" asked 
 Ogier. "We have come to you expecting to be greeted 
 with cheers and songs and glad thanksgiving, and we 
 find naught but weeping and doleful signs of death. 
 Has any thing happened amiss to my father the king ? " 
 
 "Alas ! " said the sorrowing knights, "he is dead." 
 
 Then Ogier, unable to answer by reason of his great 
 grief, covered up his face, and wept. And Roland and 
 the Danish knights led him into the castle and into the 
 chapel, where the body of King Godfrey lay. The hero 
 knelt beside his father's bier, and bathed the face of 
 the dead with his tears. Touching indeed was it to be- 
 hold this warrior melted with sorrow in the presence of 
 death. For although he had been maltreated and de- 
 spised, and cast out among strangers, he had never for- 
 gotten that a son's first duty is to honor his father. 
 Long he knelt on the floor of the little chapel, while 
 the monks who watched beside the corpse chanted 
 their prayers, and told their beads ; and the tapers on 
 the altar burned low ; and the daylight gave place to 
 darkness. Then he arose, and was about to leave the 
 room, when the priest who had been his father's con- 
 fessor touched him on the shoulder. 
 
 " Ogier," said he, " allow me to be the first to greet 
 you as king of Denmark. The last words cf your 
 father were, ' Let Ogier be king.' "
 
 244 The Story of Roland. 
 
 Ogier stood for a moment in silent thought. He 
 hesitated as to what his duty might be. Ought he, by 
 taking that which was clearly his own, to deprive his 
 younger brother of the crown which he had been taught 
 to expect ? Suddenly a heavenly light burst upon him, 
 and filled the room with its soft radiance; and a voice 
 like that of an angel said, 
 
 " Ogier, take not this crown. Leave it to Guyon thy 
 young brother. It is enough for thee to bear the title 
 of 'The Dane.' Fame waits for thee elsewhere, and 
 greater kingdoms than that of Denmark may be thine." 
 
 It was the voice of Morgan the Fay, the fairy guard- 
 ian of his life. But Ogier thought that it was an 
 angel from heaven who had spoken ; and he humbly 
 crossed himself, and bowed in submission to the com- 
 mand. He sought without delay the step-mother who 
 had so cruelly wronged him. 
 
 "Mother," said he, "all that which thou hast so long 
 desired has come to pass." 
 
 And he embraced his young brother Guyon, and 
 hailed him king. And he said, "I am a peer of 
 France, a knight of the household of Charlemagne. I 
 seek no higher honors." 
 
 And heralds were sent into every city and burgh 
 proclaiming Guyon as the lawful king of all Denmark. 
 And Guyon solemnly promised to hold his kingdom in 
 fief and vassalage from Charlemagne.
 
 How Roland slew a Sea- Monster. 245 
 
 ADVENTURE XX. 
 
 HOW ROLAND SLEW A SEA-MONSTER. 
 
 WHEN, at length, the days of mourning for Duk* 
 Godfrey were passed, Ogier and the knights who were 
 with him turned their faces southward, and rode back 
 again to France. But Roland parted from their com- 
 pany, and went another way, for Charlemagne had 
 intrusted him with a message to Oberto, the king of 
 Ireland ; and to that country he directed his course. 
 At the nearest port on the coast a little ship awaited 
 him; and in this he embarked, and sailed across the 
 western sea. 
 
 For many days the vessel ploughed the waters, and 
 the sky was clear, and the wind was fair, and the voy- 
 age was a happy one. And those on board beguiled 
 the hours with pleasant talk and with many wonderful 
 tales of the sea. The captain was a browned and 
 weather-beaten Norseman, who had sailed the waters 
 for more than twoscore years, and who knew every 
 strait and shallow and every point of land, from Goth- 
 land to the Pillars of Hercules. And he delighted to 
 tell of the many scenes of danger through which he
 
 246 The Story of Roland. 
 
 had passed, and of the feats of daring which he had 
 seen on land and sea, and of the strange beings which 
 people the deep. One day he talked about the mer- 
 maids and the men of the sea ; and he told of the great 
 Midgard snake whom the Northmen believe to lie hid- 
 den in the deepest ocean ; and he related the story of 
 Old ^Egir the Ocean-King, and of his nine daughters, 
 the white-veiled Waves. And when he had finished, 
 Roland said that what he had told reminded him of cer- 
 tain stories which he had heard in the South, stories 
 of the old Pagan times, when the gods were thought 
 to live' on earth, and to take some sort of interest in 
 the doings of men. And he spoke of Poseidon, whom 
 the Greeks called the ruler of the sea ; and of old 
 Nereus and his fifty daughters, the silver-footed sea- 
 nymphs. And this led him to relate the beautiful fable 
 of Andromeda, and her rescue by Perseus from the sea- 
 monster whom Poseidon had sent to devour her. 
 
 "But the gods are all dead now," said he, "and 
 neither ^Egir nor Poseidon rules the sea." 
 
 Then an old Irish harper who happened to be on 
 shipboard spoke, and said, "Sir knight, if all reports 
 be true, some of the sea-deities still live, and are known 
 in regions where the Christian religion has not yet 
 been preached. Indeed, I have heard that in the Island 
 of Ebuda, a day's sail west of Ireland, old Proteus, the 
 servant of Poseidon, is even now imitating the deeds 
 of his ancient master." 
 
 Then the company insisted that the harper should
 
 How Roland slew a Sea- Monster. 247 
 
 tell them all that he knew about this matter, and he 
 did as they desired him. 
 
 "In the golden age," said he, "it was the task of 
 Proteus to keep the seals and sea-calves for his master 
 Poseidon, to lead them into the pleasantest waters 
 and to the freshest pastures, and to see that no one 
 wilfully harmed them. When the times changed, and 
 his old master was dethroned, and no longer needed his 
 services, he still kept on herding and caring for the 
 seals and sea-calves ; for the power of habit was so 
 strong that he could not tear himself away from his old 
 haunts, nor change his occupation. And as he was usu- 
 ally very peaceable, and thought to be quite harmless, 
 very little attention was paid to him ; and he was 
 allowed to live on, and ply his vocation, long after all 
 the other sea-deities were deposed and forgotten. One 
 day, as he was driving about in his swan-chariot, and 
 looking after his herds, he came to this Island of Ebuda 
 of which I have just spoken. It chanced, that, as he 
 drove close by the shore, the golden-haired daughter of 
 the King of Ebuda stood on the beach. She was more 
 passing fair than ever were the sea-nymphs of old, or 
 the mermaids, or the white-veiled daughters of ^Egir. 
 And the heait of the ancient Proteus was moved with 
 love for the maiden, and he forthwith besought the king 
 that he would give her to him in marriage. But the 
 father of the maiden scorned his suit. Should he, the 
 king of Ebuda, wed his only daughter to the last of a 
 dying race, to the last and the least worthy of the
 
 248 The Story of Roland. 
 
 sea-gods ? Let him go back to his seals and sea-calves, 
 and never again think of making himself the peer of 
 human beings. 
 
 " Then the love of old Proteus was changed to hate, 
 and he vowed that he would not rest nor slumber until 
 he had avenged the slight that had thus been put upon 
 him. And he sent great troops of sea-calves to ravage 
 the coasts of Ebuda ; and after them he caused a huge 
 and shapeless monster, called an ore, to come, and over- 
 run the whole island. Never was there greater dis- 
 tress and terror. The frightened people fled from their 
 farms and villages, and sought safety in the walled 
 towns; and, between famine and the ravages of the 
 sea-monsters, it seemed as if the entire nation would be 
 destroyed. Now, it appears that there was in Ebuda 
 some kind of an oracle, in whose decisions the people 
 placed great trust. And the king prayed the oracle 
 that he might know how to appease the anger of old 
 Proteus, and turn his fearful wrath away. And the 
 oracle answered, and said that this could be done only 
 by offering a daily sacrifice to Proteus to be devoured 
 by the monster ore. 
 
 " ' What shall that sacrifice be ? ' asked the king. 
 
 " ' The fairest maiden that can be found either in 
 Ebuda or in the neighboring isles,' was the answer. 
 
 " ' And how long shall this fearful payment of tribute 
 continue ? ' asked the king. 
 
 " And the oracle answered, ' Until a hero shall come 
 to Ebuda's shores brave enough and strong enough to
 
 How Roland slew a Sea-Monster. 249 
 
 slay the ore. Then, and not till then, will Proteus with- 
 draw the curse which he has laid upon you, and leave 
 your people in peace.' 
 
 " And it was done as the oracle had bidden. Each 
 day a damsel, the fairest that could be found, was of- 
 fered to the ore ; and the creature ceased his ravages, 
 and allowed the people to return to their homes and 
 farms. And each day, as a new victim was led to the 
 horrible sacrifice, the people prayed for the coming of 
 the hero who should save their loved ones from this 
 dreadful doom. But he came not. 
 
 "And it is said that still in the Island of Ebuda this 
 cruel usage is continued, and that the Pagan folk who 
 live in that land no longer look upon this sacrifice with 
 horror and aversion, but that, grown barbarous and un- 
 feeling, they send their ships to the neighboring coasts, 
 and bring home scores of fair captives to be offered to 
 the bloodthirsty ore. Many a noble Irish maiden, I 
 know, has been stolen from our shores, and sacrificed 
 thus horribly by the Ebudans." 
 
 "Where sayest thou this savage Island of Ebuda 
 lies ? " asked Roland. 
 
 " In the great western ocean," answered the harper. 
 " It lies many leagues west of green Erin." 
 
 " Turn, then, thy course, good sea-captain," said Ro- 
 land to the master of the ship. " Steer straight for that 
 island kingdom. If such barbarous custom still con- 
 tinues there, it shall not be much longer." 
 
 But the winds, as if in league with the wrathful Pro-
 
 250 TJie Story of Roland. 
 
 teus, hesitated to hasten the vessel on its way ; and as 
 the eagerness of the knight waxed stronger, so was the 
 progress of the ship delayed. Sometimes the breeze 
 died away, and there was a calm ; the sails hung loose 
 -and useless upon the masts, and, had not the seamen 
 plied their oars, the vessel would have stood still. 
 Sometimes a west wind sprang up, and blew strong 
 against them, and they were forced to tack about, and 
 veer far from their intended course. And so it befell 
 that many days passed by, ere, at length, they came in 
 sight of the wooded shores of Ebuda, and the captain 
 pointed out the high rock where the fair victims were 
 daily left as food for the ravenous ore. 
 
 When they drew near the place, Roland ordered the 
 ship's boat to be lowered ; and in it he placed the largest 
 anchor and the strongest cable that could be found. 
 Then he sat down in the boat ; and alone and unarmed, 
 save that he carried the trusty Durandal, he rowed 
 toward the rock. It was about the hour of sunrise, 
 the time when the monster, they said, was wont to 
 come for his daily meal. As the hero rowed close to the 
 shore, he fancied that he heard faint moans, and feeble 
 cries of distress. He looked around, and saw a maiden 
 chained to the rock with iron links, her feet wetted by 
 the rising tide, and her face hidden beneath the long 
 tresses of golden hair that fell about her neck and 
 shoulders. His heart melted with pity, and the sight 
 nerved his arm for the strange contest which was near. 
 He was about to spreak to the maiden, when a sudden
 
 How Roland slew a Sea- Monster. 251 
 
 sound was heard, a roaring like that of a strong wind 
 among the forest trees, or of the waves rolling madly 
 into some ocean cave. He heard the loud shouts of his 
 companions on shipboard: the breakers began to rise 
 around his little boat. The monster was at hand, huge 
 as a rock-built castle, dark and terrible as a thunder- 
 cloud, fearless as the waves themselves. Quickly he 
 rowed forward to meet the beast ; he stood up in the 
 boat with the heavy anchor in his hand ; quietly he 
 awaited the onset. The ore saw him, and opened his 
 jaws to swallow both him and the boat. The red eyes 
 of the creature glared like baleful bonfires in the morn- 
 ing light ; his huge tail lashed the waters into a foam. 
 It was a fearful moment, but Roland faltered not. He 
 raised the heavy anchor still higher ; and then, with the 
 strength of a knight well trained in the use of every 
 weapon, he hurled it into the monster's wide-open 
 mouth. And there it remained, propping the huge 
 jaws apart, and so firmly fixed that the ore could by no 
 means remove it. At nearly the same moment Roland 
 drew h'.s sword, the mighty Durandal ; and, calling up all 
 his strength, he struck the monster a blow which almost 
 severed his head from his body. Then guarding the 
 rope to which the anchor was fastened, he seized the 
 oars, and rowed swiftly to the shore. He leaped upon 
 the beach ; and, encouraged by the shouts and cheers of 
 his friends on board the ship, he dragged the now dead 
 monster to the land. 
 
 And now he bethought him of the captive maiden
 
 252 The Story of Roland. 
 
 chained to the rock, and half fallen into a swoon, and 
 scarcely knowing that she had been saved from the 
 terrible death which had threatened her. With a single 
 stroke of Durandal, the hero severed the iron links; 
 and then he took her gently by the hand, and led her 
 away from that dreadful rock, and seated her in a pleas- 
 ant, sunny place high on the shore. With kind and 
 cheerful words he sought to arouse her drooping spirits ; 
 for she seemed dazed and bewildered, as if waking from 
 a dream, and could not for a time remember where she 
 was. He asked her her name, and inquired how she, so 
 unlike the dwellers in Ebuda, had been cast on this 
 barbarous shore, and offered in sacrifice to the blood- 
 thirsty ore. She told him that her name was Olympia, 
 and that, in her own home beyond the seas, she was a 
 princess, loved and honored by hosts of subjects. And 
 then she related, how, one day while walking alone on 
 the seashore, she had been seized by pirates from Ebu- 
 da, and, with other fair captives, had been brought to 
 this savage shore, and reserved as a peace-offering to 
 the monster whom the Ebudans foolishly believed to 
 have been sent by old Proteus. 
 
 Scarcely had the princess ended her story when a 
 new and unexpected danger threatened our hero. The 
 folk of Ebuda had heard of the strange combat between 
 the knight and the ore, and now in great numbers they 
 came trooping to the shore. They stood upon the cliffs 
 above, and along the beach, and some came down even 
 to the water's edge, to see the dead monster and the
 
 How Roland slew a Sea- Monster. 253 
 
 hero who had slain him. But, although they had been 
 freed from the terror of their lives, they were not 
 pleased ; neither felt they in the least thankful to their 
 deliverer. 
 
 "Alas !" cried they, "this man has slain the servant 
 of old Proteus, and now it will go hard with us who 
 were charged with his keeping. For will not the sea- 
 god curse us again, and send his herds of sea-calves to 
 lay waste our shores ? Better it is to endure a single 
 evil than to risk the coming of a multitude of others. 
 The poor ore was not as bad as he might have been ; 
 and, now he is dead, there is no telling what may befall 
 us." 
 
 "That is true," answered others ; "and the only safe 
 way for us to do is to turn away the wrath of old Pro- 
 teus by punishing the man who has lifted up his sacri- 
 legious hand against the ore. Let us pitch this busy 
 meddler, whoever he may be, into the sea, that he may 
 give his own account to the outraged sea-god whom we 
 serve." 
 
 Then a great clamor and shouting arose ; and those 
 who stood highest upon the cliffs began hurling stones 
 and darts at Roland; and those who were nearest 
 rushed toward him with drawn swords. There is no 
 telling what would have been the end of this affray, had 
 not a company of armed knights rushed unexpectedly 
 upon the scene. They were men of Ireland, who with 
 their king, Oberto, had come with a fleet of ships to 
 punish the savage islanders for their piracies upon the
 
 254 The Story of Roland. 
 
 Irish shores. So great was the surprise of the Ebu- 
 dans that they turned at once, and fled in wild dismay 
 from the shore ; nor did they stop in their flight until 
 they were safely shut up within their city walls. 
 
 The meeting between Roland and King Obert^ was 
 a happy one ; for they had been pages together at the 
 court of Charlemagne, and they recognized each other 
 as old and tried friends. And when the Irish king saw 
 the dead ore, and heard Roland's story of the co*nbat 
 which had taken place, he resolved that he would return 
 at once to his own land, and leave the Ebudans in peace. 
 And when all had gone aboard their ships again, the 
 sails were spread, and the fleet sped gayly back toward 
 Ireland. And Roland and the Princess Olympia were 
 guests on board the king's own vessel. And old stories 
 tell us that Oberto afterwards wedded Olympia, making 
 her the Queen of Ireland ; and that for many years they 
 lived most happily together, loved and honored by all 
 their subjects. As for Roland, he tarried not long at 
 the Irish court; but, having delivered the message 
 which he bore from Charlemagne, he took ship again, 
 and hastened back to France. 1 
 
 1 See Note 14 at the end of this volume.
 
 How Roland fell into Prison. 255 
 
 ADVENTURE XXL 
 
 HOW ROLAND FELL INTO PRISON. 
 
 IT was indeed high time that Roland should hasten 
 his return to France; for Charlemagne, hard pressed 
 by foes on every side, was in sore need of help. From 
 every Saracen land, fierce hordes of Pagans came pour- 
 ing into France, and threatening to overrun the whole 
 of Christendom. Sacripant, the Circassian king, with 
 ten thousand picked warriors from Persia and India, 
 had landed on the southern coast, vowing that he would 
 not return to his own country until he had overcome 
 Charlemagne in battle, and made France his own. 
 Marsilius of Spain had again crossed the Pyrenees with 
 his Moorish chivalry, and had hastened to join his forces 
 with those of Sacripant. Agramont, the king of Africa, 
 with a great fleet of ships, was coming over the sea ; 
 and Rodomont, the most renowned of all the Algerian 
 chiefs, had landed near Marseilles. Unless help should 
 come soon, it seemed as if all France would fall into 
 the hands of the Pagans. Charlemagne hastily gathered 
 his hosts together, and marched to meet the foe. With 
 him were many of his bravest knights, Duke Namon,
 
 256 The Story of Roland. 
 
 and Ganelon, and Oliver, and Ogier the Dane, and 
 Richard of Normandy. But Reinold of Montalban was 
 in England, and Roland had not yet returned from his 
 embassy to the Irish king. 
 
 Christians and Saracens met face to face in a wooded 
 valley between two mountains, and both sides began to 
 make ready for battle; but the unbelievers outnum- 
 bered the Christians two to one. 
 
 "If Roland were only here," said the French among 
 themselves, " all would go well with us. His presence 
 would be worth more than a thousand men." 
 
 Just as the fray was about to begin, a fair lady was 
 brought as a prisoner before King Charlemagne. It 
 was Angelica, the Princess of Cathay. What mishap 
 had again forced her to leave her native land, and placed 
 her at this moment in the power of the Christian 
 king ? Some said that she was a witch, and that she 
 had come hither to ply her magic arts for the destruc- 
 tion of the Christian host ? Others whispered that she 
 had followed Roland from the Far East, and that she 
 bore in her heait great love for that matchless hero. 
 But the truth of the matter is, that a scheming thief 
 had stolen her magic ring, and carried it to Africa or to 
 Spain ; and it was in search of this wonderful talisman 
 that she had come again to the West. The king com- 
 manded that the maiden should be closely guarded 
 until after the battle ; and he said that then he would 
 find out the measure of her faults, and decide what 
 punishment should be hers.
 
 How Roland fell into Prison 257 
 
 The battle began. Many were the deeds of valor on 
 both sides, and never before had the peers of France 
 fought so bravely. But to the Saracens the victory 
 seemed, from the beginning, to be assured. Oliver 
 was unhorsed ; Ogier was sorely beset by numbers of 
 Moorish knights; Duke Namon was taken prisoner. 
 Ganelon, the traitor and coward, giving up all for lost, 
 turned, and fled ingloriously from the field. The king 
 himself was wounded, and with great difficulty saved 
 himself from capture. The Pagans were everywhere 
 the masters. 
 
 " If Roland or Reinold had been here, it would not 
 have been so," sadly said the defeated knights as they 
 unwillingly withdrew from the fight. 
 
 When the squires who had been left behind to guard 
 the Princess Angelica learned that the day was lost, 
 they mounted their horses, and fled in great disorder 
 from the scene of battle. The maiden, finding her- 
 self free, also mounted a palfrey, and rode aimlessly 
 away. 
 
 As Angelica wandered onward through the wood, 
 trembling at every sound, and fearing to be overtaken 
 by either Christian or Moor, she came at length to the 
 bank of a deep and rapid-flowing river. Anxiously she 
 rode up and down, seeking to find some shallow ford, or 
 other means of crossing. While doing this, she was 
 startled by seeing in the middle of the stream a tall 
 knight, dark-browed and fierce, wading about as if in 
 search of something lost in the water. The knight's
 
 258 The Story of Roland. 
 
 head was bare, and she rightly guessed that it was his 
 helmet which he sought in the rushing river. She had 
 seen that cruel, brutish face once before. What if he 
 should see her, and make her his prisoner ? She 
 stopped not a moment, but turned her palfrey about, 
 and again sought safety in the leafy shadows of the 
 wood. 
 
 It was the Moorish prince Ferrau, whom Angelica 
 had seen wading in the stream. He had paused in his 
 fierce pursuit of the vanquished Christians to quench 
 his thirst from the river. As he bent over, his helmet 
 the very one that he had stolen from the murdered 
 Argalia of Cathay slipped from his head, and fell into 
 the water. Vainly did he seek for it. Vainly did he 
 wade up and down, and dive beneath the surface, groping 
 with hands and feet upon the slippery bottom. From 
 an overnanging tree he broke a forked branch, and 
 with it raked and dredged with fruitless care the river 
 from shore to shore. No helmet could he find. He 
 was about to give up the search, when a strange figure 
 seemed to rise up in the water before him. The fierce 
 Moor had never known such thing as fear. In the 
 dreadful din of battle, with death before him, and threat- 
 ening foes on every side, he had never shrunk from 
 danger. But now, at sight of that mysterious figure, 
 he trembled in every limb, and the hair on his uncov- 
 ered head stood out like the bristles [f a porcupine. 
 Never was knight so utterly horrified. It was a dim 
 white figure that rose up silently before the Moor, like
 
 How Roland fell into Prison. 259 
 
 the light mist which sometimes hangs over river and 
 meadow in the early morning twilight. But its shape 
 was that of a man, of a warrior in white armor, his 
 head uncovered, his face beaming in the uncertain light 
 of evening, his right arm uplifted as if to threaten or 
 to warn. To Ferrau this ghostly shape was none other 
 than the spirit of Argalia, the Prince of Cathay, whom 
 he had foully slain in the wood of Ardennes. He tried 
 to fly from the spot ; but his feet were rooted to the 
 ground, and the cold waters of the river seemed to 
 hem him in, and hold him there. Then he saw that 
 the figure held in its left hand the helmet which he 
 had been seeking, Argalia's helmet, dripping with 
 water, and glittering brightly in the light of the rising 
 moon. 
 
 "Foul traitor!" said the ghost, "this helmet is none 
 of thine, and nevermore shall it incase thy brutish 
 head. If helmet thou wouldst have, go win it ! Win 
 Reinold's, or the matchless Roland's. Argalia will 
 have his own." 
 
 Then the figure slowly melted away in the moon- 
 light. And Ferrau found himself standing on the 
 shore, his teeth chattering from terror, and his limbs 
 numb with cold. It might have been merely a horrid 
 dream, this vision of the slain Argalia, yet the 
 fierce Ferrau did not think so. He verily believed that 
 he had seen a ghost^ And as he mounted his steed, 
 and rode away from the scene of his fright, he vowed 
 that nevermore should jelmet touch his head until
 
 260 The Story of Roland. 
 
 he had won, by fair means or by foul, the matchless 
 casque of Roland. 
 
 In the mean while Roland, returning from Ireland, 
 was riding leisurely toward Paris. He had not yet 
 heard of the Saracen invasion, and he knew not how 
 greatly his presence was needed in the South. But 
 messengers from Charlemagne met him on the road, 
 and told him how the Saracens had landed on the 
 southern coasts, and how, in the late battle, the French 
 had been sorely defeated. " My warriors are altogether 
 disheartened," was the word they brought from Charle- 
 magne. "They will not fight unless Roland leads 
 them against the foe." 
 
 So Roland hurried forward with all haste to join the 
 king. He stopped but an hour at Paris to see his 
 mother, the Princess Bertha, and then, without further 
 delay, he gave spur to Brigliadoro, and rode straight 
 onward toward the Pyrenees. Not once during the 
 day did he leave his saddle ; and at night, whether he 
 reposed in the castle of some friendly baron, or whether 
 he lay down to sleep in some lonely wood, he never re- 
 moved his armor. And the good people along his route 
 came out and blessed him. "Now will the arms of 
 Charlemagne prevail," said they ; " for Roland rides to 
 the rescue." And many who through fear had fled 
 from their homes took fresh heart when they saw the 
 gallant hero ; and they turned back again, resolved to 
 fight bravely for their country so long as their lives 
 were spared.
 
 How Roland fell into Prison. 261 
 
 One day, as Roland was crossing a plain at the foot 
 of a range of mountains, an unexpected sight met hi;$ 
 view. High up on the top of a steep mountain crag, 
 seemingly among the clouds, he saw a beautiful and 
 strangely built castle. The battlements and towers 
 gleamed in the sunlight like burnished steel, and it 
 seemed hardly possible that any creature without wings 
 could scale the steep heights upon which the airy 
 fortress was built. As our hero paused, and admired 
 the strange structure, and wondered by what pathway 
 it might be reached, he fancied that he heard a cry of 
 distress near at hand. He spurred his horse forward 
 toward the place whence the sound came, and was sur- 
 prised to see an armed knight riding leisurely across 
 the plain in the direction of the castle. Before him, 
 lying across the pommel of the saddle, the knight held 
 a captive maiden, who struggled and wept, and called 
 out loudly for help. The cries of helpless innocence , 
 never fell in vain on ItoIancTs ""ears; ; .and, no matter \ 
 whether they came from the lips of a princess or those J 
 of a peasant, he was equally quick and ready to rush to / 
 the rescue. He gave spurs to Brigliadoro, and galloped 
 nearer. The maiden was very beautiful ; and the rich 
 clothing and the jewels which she wore showed that 
 she was a lady of no mean birth. He fancied that she 
 looked strangely like Angelica, the Princess of Cathay. 
 He called to the felon-knight who carried her, and bade 
 him stop. But the more he called, the faster did the 
 stranger urge onward his steed. Swiftly across the
 
 262 The Story of Roland. 
 
 plain flew Brigliadoro in pursuit ; but the knight held 
 on his way, and was not to be overtaken. And now, 
 up the steep mountain side, along pathways narrow and 
 rough, pursued and pursuer climbed. And, ere he was 
 aware, Roland found himself inside the narrow court 
 yard of the castle. The place was one of rare richness 
 and beauty, and more like the palaces of the Far East 
 than the warlike fortresses of the Goths and Franks. 
 The walls were built of granite, the yard was paved 
 with marble, the great gate was of gold, and the doors 
 were of steel inlaid with ivory : the towers and battle- 
 ments were plated with polished steel. A very magi- 
 cian's castle it was, perched on the topmost crag of the 
 mountain, and almost seeming to hang suspended in 
 the air. At the door of the great hall, the knight dis- 
 mounted; and, leaving Brigliadoro behind, he stalked 
 boldly into the inmost palace, still intent on finding the 
 felon-knight, and setting his fair captive free. Through 
 hall-way and chamber and spacious kitchen he passed, 
 calling loudly, but receiving no answer save the hollow 
 echoes of his own voice. Then to the upper rooms he 
 climbed, and to every chamber and balcony he went. 
 Rich and fair were all the appointments in this airy 
 stronghold. The ceilings were high and bright ; the 
 walls were hung with richest curtains, and adorned 
 with finest tapestry; the floors were hidden beneath 
 soft carpets such as were known only in Persia and in 
 the remotest lands of the Saracens ; the beds were of 
 the softest down, and curtained with cloth-of-gold and the
 
 How Roland fell into Prison. 263 
 
 rarest blue silk. Yet Roland stopped not to admire this 
 richness and beauty. He climbed to the tops of the 
 towers, he went down into the cellars, and even into 
 the dungeons beneath the prison-tower; but not a 
 human being did he see or hear. He wondered why a 
 palace so richly furnished should be empty of inhabit- 
 ants. It angered him to think that those who lived in 
 the castle were doubtless skulking slily in some secret 
 hiding-place, and watching every movement that he 
 made. He called out again, more loudly than before ; 
 he challenged, he threatened : yet no one answered. 
 Then, at last, finding that the search was a vain one, 
 he went again into the courtyard, and remounted Brig- 
 liadoro. He would give up this useless quest, and 
 hasten to continue his journey. What was his surprise 
 and anger to find the great gates closed and barred ! 
 Furiously he shook them, calling to the porter to 
 unfasten them and let him go. Still not a man could 
 he see or hear. Finally he again dismounted, and went 
 by another way into the palace. He fancied that he 
 heard the sound of voices. He looked into the ban- 
 quet-room, and there, seated at the table, were a score 
 of armed knights, loudly talking while they feasted. 
 He found upon inquiry that they, like himself, had 
 been entrapped in this strange place ; and none of them 
 knew who was lord of the castle, nor where he had hid- 
 den himself. Yet all had some charge of villany to pre 
 fer against their unknown host. One complained that 
 he had stolen his steed ; another, that he had treacher-
 
 264 The Story of Roland. 
 
 ously taken his arms ; another, that he had imprisoned 
 a near and dear friend, or carried away his lady-love. 
 All were raging with anger and disappointment ; and 
 all were equally resolved to punish the offender most 
 unmercifully, should they ever be able to find him. 
 Among these knights were some of the noblest Sara- 
 cen chiefs, the fierce Ferrau the Spanish Moor, 
 Sacripant the Circassian king, Gradasso the king of 
 Sericane, and a noble Moorish youth named Roger. 
 But such was the witchery of the magician who had 
 entrapped them in this cage, that these warriors did 
 not know each other, nor did they care to know. They 
 only thought of the vile deception which had led them 
 there, and joined in forming plans to escape. Then, 
 when their anger began to cool, they wisely concluded 
 to make the best of their strange imprisonment, hoping 
 that it would not last long. They amused themselves 
 at quiet games in the hall; they listened to sweet 
 strains of music played by unseen hands ; they engaged 
 in manly feats of arms in the narrow courtyard ; they 
 sat at table in the banquet-hall, and feasted on choice 
 viands brought to them by speechless attendants. Yet 
 they never laid off their armor, nor put aside their 
 arms. And their steeds stood always in the stables, 
 saddled and bridled, and ready, on a moment's notice, 
 to be mounted and ridden away. Day after day passed 
 by, and, for aught they knew, weeks and months, and 
 the captive knights found no means by which they 
 could break away from their enchanted prison. Nor
 
 How Roland fell into Prison. 265 
 
 could they have escaped at all, had not help come to 
 them from without. And now, that we may learn how 
 this help was brought, we will leave them for a while, 
 and visit other scenes, and become acquainted with per- 
 sonages whom we have not yet met.
 
 266 The Story of Roland. 
 
 ADVENTURE XXII. 
 
 BRADAMANT THE WARRIOR MAIDEN. 
 
 THE Princess Angelica, frightened at sight of the 
 fierce Moor wading in the river, and searching for his 
 lost helmet, fled through the forest as fast as her poor 
 palfrey could carry her. Ah, how she wished now for 
 the magic ring which had so often befriended and saved 
 her ! With its aid she might have bidden defiance to 
 , danger, and flown safely and quickly back to Cathay. 
 But, having it not, she was fain perforce to fare like 
 other folk, and plod painfully and slowly, on foot or on 
 horseback, from one place to another. Yet whither 
 now should she go? That was a question which she 
 could not answer. It seemed to her that all men were 
 her foes, and her chief thought was to keep safely out 
 of sight of every one. For a day and a night, and half 
 the following day, she wandered through dark and 
 dreary woods, or across barren and lonely moorlands, 
 shrinking from every sound, and affrighted even by the 
 rustling of the leaves. 
 
 At about noon on the second day, the princess found 
 herself so wearied with her long flight, and so overcome
 
 Br adamant the Warrior Maiden. 267 
 
 by the heat, that she could go no farther. She was 
 close to a thicket of flowering hawthorns and wild-rose 
 bushes, overshadowed by tall oak-trees. So cool and 
 secluded was the place, that it seemed to invite her to 
 stop and rest. Down from the saddle she sprang among 
 the untrodden flowers ; and she gently removed the bri- 
 dle from her faithful palfrey's head, and turned him 
 loose to graze along the river's bank. Then, within the 
 thicket, she found a pleasant bower, where the leaves 
 and twigs were so interlaced that the light of day could 
 scarcely struggle through ; and there, on a bed of moss 
 and flowers, the over-wearied maiden sank down, and 
 sought repose. On either side of the thicket a brook- 
 let strayed, singing a pleasant lullaby as it murmured 
 over the pebbles ; and the gentle zephyr stole through 
 the leaves and branches, and lovingly kissed the maid- 
 en's cheek, and told her of happier and more peaceful 
 climes. Scarcely had she touched her woodland couch, , 
 when her eyes closed in slumber ; and she forgot her 
 terror and her flight and her great weariness, and 
 dreamed only of her palace home in the sunrise land 
 of Cathay. 
 
 How long the princess slept, I cannot tell. But 
 when she awoke, she fancied that she heard the tramp 
 of a horse not far from her resting-place. It was not 
 the light tread of her palfrey, but sounded more like 
 the heavy step of a war-steed. She arose softly, and 
 peeped out through the leaves and branches. An 
 armed knight sat by the river's bank, while his steed
 
 268 The Story of Roland. 
 
 stood cropping the grass close by. In doleful mood 
 seemed this knight ; his head was resting upon his 
 hand ; his eyes were downcast and sad. Long time sat 
 he there, silent and thoughtful ; and then he began to 
 bewail some cruel mishap that had overtaken him. 
 
 " Ah, me ! " cried he. " How false and cruel is for- 
 tune ! What avails the victory that we have won, when 
 the hopes which were nearest my heart have come to 
 naught ? Better would it have been, had I died on the 
 field of battle." 
 
 Angelica, in her safe hiding-place, heard the knight's 
 piteous plaint. She fancied that she knew that voice : 
 she had certainly heard it before. She longed to see 
 the face of the speaker. A dry twig snapped under 
 her feet: the knight, in alarm, sprang up and looked 
 around. It was indeed he : it was Sacripant the Cir- 
 cassian king, her father's friend and her own. It was 
 for her sake that he had come from the Far East, and 
 joined himself to the foes of France and Christendom ; 
 and it was for her sake that he had fought so valiantly 
 in the late battle. For he hoped, that, by thus proving 
 his valor as a warrior, the heart of the maiden would 
 be kindly inclined toward him. But now, after the 
 battle had been fought and won, he could hear no tid- 
 ings of Angelica, and it had been whispered tnat she 
 had returned alone to Cathay. And the sorrowful king 
 moaned, and beat his breast, and bewailed that he had 
 ever been born. 
 
 The princess heard the words of the dolorous knight,
 
 Bradamant the Warrior Maiden. 269 
 
 and was not slow to learn the cause of his grief. But 
 her heart was still her own, and she felt neither love 
 nor pity for him. Yet she was sadly in need of a 
 friend ; and she knew that Sacripant, with all his faults, 
 would prove kind and true. She resolved, therefore, to 
 make herself known to him. So, softly as the summer's 
 breeze in the meadows, she stepped from her hiding- 
 place ; and, radiant with mingled smiles and tears, she 
 glided to the place where he sat. 
 
 " God bless you ! " said she, laying her white hand on \r\ ?~ 
 his shoulder; "and may he put all troublesome thoughts I A 
 out of your mind." 
 
 Never was brave knight so wonder-stricken. He 
 could scarcely believe that it was indeed Angelica who 
 stood thus unexpectedly before him : he thought that it 
 was her spirit, or that some cunning wizard was deceiv- 
 ing him. But when she spoke to him again, and called 
 him by name, his doubts vanished, and he welcomed her 
 most joyfully. Then the two sat down together on the 
 grassy bank, and talked of plans for the future ; and 
 they resolved that they would forever quit the land of 
 France, where both had met with only disappointments, 
 and together hasten back to Cathay. 
 
 While they were yet talking, a noise was heard in the 
 wood close by, the sound of tramping feet and clang- 
 ing armor. Sacripant, not knowing whether it was a 
 friend or a foe, at once donned his helmet, mounted his 
 steed, and placed his lance in rest. A single knight, 
 clad in steel, came threading his way through the
 
 270 The Story of Roland. 
 
 wood. He wore over his armor a snow-white mantle 
 bordered with ermine ; above his helmet there waved a 
 large white plume; and the steed which he rode was 
 the color of milk. His shield, too, was white, and on 
 it were emblazoned the arms of Montalban. When 
 Sacripant saw that it was a Christian who approached, 
 he challenged him at once to engage in deadly combat. 
 The stranger was no whit alarmed by the overbearing 
 mood and tone of the Circassian. He said not a word 
 in answer, but quietly laid his lance in rest, and made 
 ready for the onset. Both knights struck spurs at the 
 same moment, and, with the fury of untamed lions, 
 rushed toward each other. The lances of both were 
 broken in twain ; and, as each struck the other, the 
 earth seemed to tremble beneath them, and the woods 
 and hills rang with the sound. The Circassian's horse 
 fell dead upon the ground; and the White Knight's 
 steed was brought to his knees. Sacripant was so en- 
 tangled in the trappings of his horse, and so weighted 
 down with his armor, that it was some time before he 
 could gain his feet. But the stranger, deeming that 
 he had done enough for his own honor's sake, touched 
 his horse gently with the spur, and rode carelessly away. 
 Not a word did he say, nor did he glance once back to 
 the place where the discomfited Pagan lay. 
 
 With troubled face, and many half-smothered curses, 
 the Circassian arose from the ground. He cared not 
 so much for the bruises which he had gotten by the 
 fall, as for the disgrace of being thus unhorsed in the
 
 Br adamant the Warrior Maiden. 271 
 
 presence of the princess. But Angelica, as if scarcely 
 noticing his mishap, consoled and cheered him with 
 kind, courageous words. 
 
 "Surely, sir knight," said she, "it was not your 
 fault that you tumbled upon the grass, but rather that 
 of the awkward beast who lies dead at your feet. 
 Come, my lord, cheer up, and let us out of the wood, 
 and away to dear Cathay ! " 
 
 While she was speaking, a messenger mounted on a 
 fleet horse, and bearing pouch and horn, rode toward 
 them. Both man and beast were covered with dust, 
 and seemed weary with long travel. 
 
 "Kind sir," said the messenger to the Circassian, 
 " have you lately seen a warrior pass this way, bearing 
 a white shield, and riding a milk-white steed ? " 
 
 " Indeed," said Sacripant, " I have seen him to my 
 sorrow. It was such a knight who but a few minutes 
 ago threw me headlong into the grass, and then went 
 proudly on his way. Tell me his name, I pray thee, 
 that I may remember him another day." 
 
 " Willingly will I tell you," answered the rider ; " for 
 you will be proud to know that you have been defeated 
 by no common warrior. The knight with the while 
 shield is none other than Bradamant the warrior 
 maiden, the fair sister of Reinold of Montalban." And 
 with these words and a laugh of derision, the man put 
 spurs to his jaded horse, and hastened on his way, leav- 
 ing the Circassian chief but little pleased with his news. 
 Angry, ashamed, and disheartened, Sacripant mounted
 
 272 The Story of Roland. 
 
 the palfrey of Angelica ; and, taking that princess up 
 behind him, the two rode silently away through the 
 wood. 
 
 The White Knight, who, as we have learned, was 
 Bradamant the warrior maiden, kept steadily on her 
 way until she came to a road which wound round the 
 base of a steep mountain. Here was a very pleasant 
 place, overshadowed with oaks and twining vines, and 
 looking out upon the quiet green orchards and vine- 
 yards in the valley below. A fountain of water, clear 
 and cold, gushed out from among the rocks ; and Brada- 
 mant dismounted to drink. But, just as she was rais- 
 ing her helmet, she saw a stranger sitting in the shade 
 close by. He seemed to be a knight, young, sad-eyed, 
 and melancholy; and the shallow smile which played 
 about his lips betrayed his kinship to the house of 
 Ganelon of Mayence. His horse was tethered, not far 
 away, to the low-hanging branches of a beech ; and his 
 shield and helmet were cast carelessly upon the ground 
 at his feet. Curious to know the cause of the stran- 
 ger's sadness, Bradamant kindly asked him what mis- 
 hap had brought those tears into his eyes, that look of 
 woe into his face. 
 
 "Fair sir," said the sorrowful knight, "my name is 
 Pinabel. I loved a maiden fairer than dream can pic- 
 ture, gentler than words can describe. And she, I am 
 sure, thought well of me. One day, as we sauntered 
 happily along the banls of the Rhone, a strange shad- 
 ow crossed our path. We looked up ; and to our great
 
 Br adamant the Warrior Maiden. 273 
 
 amazement we saw a winged horse yes, 'a winged 
 horse circling like an eagle high in the air above us. 
 Round and round he soared, now rising among the 
 clouds, now sinking to a level with the tree-tops, and 
 seeming merely to amuse himself. Then all at once, 
 like a falcon let loose from the wrist, or an arrow shot 
 from the bow, he darted down upon us. Before I 
 could cry out, or hinder, he had seized the maiden in 
 his talons, and was bearing her away to his mountain 
 eyry. Vain was it to try to save her. He carried her 
 over the dark and barren valleys, and the rough hill- 
 country of the Pyrenees. There, in the midst of the 
 caverned mountains, is a fair and wondrous castle 
 planted on the top of a craggy rock, and shining in the 
 sunlight like a beacon-fire. Men say that it was built 
 by a mountain sprite, and that a Moorish magician 
 keeps it, and that the winged horse is but a servant 
 who does his bidding. All round are horrid cliffs, and 
 giddy precipices, and dark gorges, and roaring torrents ; 
 nor can one find the least sign or trace of a pathway 
 to this robber's nest. It was thither that the winged 
 stoed carried the hapless maiden." 
 
 "But followed you not the monster to his den?" 
 asked Bradamant. 
 
 " I did," answered Pinabel. " But of what avail is it 
 to contend with a sorcerer? Six days I rode around 
 the mountain, eying the prison-towers, to which no 
 wingless creature ever climbed, and daring their wizard 
 lord to meet me in combat on the plain. But the rob-
 
 274 The Story of Roland. 
 
 her staid close in his mountain keep, and sal'ied not 
 forth at my call. Then there came one day into the 
 valley two noble knights, who, like me, had been bereft 
 of that which they held most dear. One was Gradasso, 
 the Pagan king of Sericane; and the other looked 
 strangely like Roger, the pride of the Moorish court. 
 Boldly they rode across the plain, and halted not until 
 they reached the foot of the tall cliffs. Then Gradasso 
 blew his bugle until the whole valley rang, and the 
 rocks and crags seemed to tremble with the sound. 
 t> And soon afterward I saw the winged horse, with the 
 wizard on his back, leap from the steel-bright tower 
 above. Upward, at first, he sprang, and higher and 
 higher he soared, until he seemed a mere speck in the 
 sky. Then, like a well-trained falcon, he shot straight 
 down upon his prey. I heard a swooping, whizzing 
 sound in the air above me. I closed my eyes, and fell 
 to the earth; for I dared not look upon so fearful a 
 combat. When at length all was quiet again, I raised 
 my eyes, and saw the wizard seated on his steed, and 
 holding a prisoner in either hand, calmly returning to 
 his castle home." 4 
 
 Bradamant listened with great interest to Pinabel's 
 story, and she besought him to lead her to the place 
 where this wonderful castle stood. She would give 
 battle to the wizard, she said ; she would free the pris- 
 oners whom he held in durance there; she would re- 
 store to Pinabel the maiden whom he had lost The 
 sad-eyed knight readily agreed to lead her to the place,
 
 Br adamant the Warrior Maiden. 27^ 
 
 it could be reached in three or four days, but he 
 felt not at all hopeful of the result. 
 
 "If you wish to risk these dangers," said he, "it 
 matters nothing to me. You will challenge the cun- 
 ning wizard; he will swoop down upon you ere you 
 can raise a finger ; he will take you under his arm, and 
 carry you gently to his prison-house. Yet I am ready 
 to do your bidding." 
 
 Then the knight mounted his steed, and the two rode 
 onward together. But the traitorous Pinabel had noted 
 the arms of Montalban emblazoned on the white shield 
 of Bradamant, and he began to plan in his mind how 
 he might betray and kill her. For many a league they 
 rode, over rocky hills, and through wooded valleys, 
 until the sun went down, and darkness began to settle 
 around them. 
 
 "It would be well," said Pinabel, "to seek some 
 place of shelter from the night, and the storm which I 
 see is brewing. I know of a farmer's cot, just over the 
 ridge of this mountain, where I have often rested, and 
 found a hearty welcome. Let us ride to it- by the near- 
 est way." 
 
 So saying, he left the beaten road, and spurred his 
 horse up the rough side of the mountain. He hoped to 
 lose the White Knight in the thick wood which crowned 
 its top, or lead her unawares over the side of some high 
 precipice. But Bradamant kept close behind him, and 
 foiled all his wicked plans; for, to tell the truth, she 
 had little faith in this sad-eyed kinsman of Ganelon.
 
 276 The Story of Roland. 
 
 Just after passing the crest of the mountain, the two 
 knights were surprised at seeing a light streaming up 
 as it were from the ground On drawing nearer, they 
 found that it came from the bottom of a well-like cav- 
 ern, a great cleft in the rock, whose steep, smooth 
 sides descended sheer twenty yards and more. Pinabel 
 was the first to dismount, and look over the edge of the 
 chasm. 
 
 " Ah, me ! " cried he as if in great surprise. " What 
 villany is this I see ? " 
 
 The warrior maiden, eager to know the meaning of 
 his words, leaped from her horse, and ran to look down 
 into the cavern. But she saw nothing save the smooth 
 walls of polished rock, and a narrow door at the bottom, 
 through which streamed a flood of light as from a torch. 
 She asked Pinabel what he had seen. 
 
 "I saw," said he, "a most beautiful damsel, clad in 
 the garb of a princess, trying in vain to scale those slip- 
 pery walls. And while I looked, a fierce rufHan, who 
 seemed to be her jailer, seized her rudely, and dragged 
 her back through the narrow door into the inner cave." 
 
 "If I had any means of reaching her, I would save 
 her," said Bradamant earnestly. "Ah! what would 'I 
 not give for a rope, a ladder, some way of getting down 
 to the bottom of this well ! " 
 
 She glanced around her. An elm-tree, tall and 
 straight, grew on the brink of the cave. It would be 
 but an easy matter to make a ladder, she thought. So 
 with her sword she cut down the longest, straightest
 
 BRADAMANT AND PINABEL.
 
 Bradamant Ifo Warrior Maiden. 277 
 
 branch, and shaped and trimmed it to suit her wishes. 
 Yet, when she thrust this rudely-made ladder into the 
 cave, she found that it lacked several feet of reaching 
 the bottom. 
 
 " Do you hold on to the upper end," said she to Pina- 
 bel, " and I will climb down. I may at least get low 
 enough to peep through the door, and see what is going 
 on in the inner cave." 
 
 The treacherous fellow seemed very willing to do her 
 bidding ; but she had not climbed far when he suddenly 
 let go of the branch, and plunged the helpless Brada- 
 mant down to the bottom of the great well. Had not 
 the stout elm-branch broken her fall, the warrior maiden 
 would have been killed outright. As it was, she lay 
 for some time, stunned and helpless, upon the hard 
 stone floor ; while the wretched Pinabel, chuckling with 
 delight, mounted his steed and rode away. 
 
 " Only too gladly," said he to himself, "would I hurl 
 Reinold and all his kin of Montalban down into the 
 same deep grave." 
 
 When Bradamant recovered her senses, and arose, 
 she saw that the door which led into the inner cave 
 was still open ; and the bright light which she had seen 
 from above now shone full into her face. Without fear 
 or hesitation, she passed boldly through the narrow 
 entrance-way, and came soon into a large, well-lighted 
 chamber. This place seemed to be an underground 
 temple, roomy and square, with vaulted roof upheld by 
 fluted columns of marble and alabaster. In front of
 
 278 The Story of Roland. 
 
 the central altar was a large lamp, whose clear-burning 
 flame lighted up all the space around, and shone through 
 the passage-way and the door into the well-like entrance 
 beyond. The warrior maiden, in thankfulness for her 
 delivery from death, and touched by the softening 
 influences of the place, knelt before the altar, and 
 prayed. But, ere the prayer was finished, a secret 
 wicket in the wall opened silently, and a weird woman, 
 barefooted, and with dishevelled hair, entered the 
 room. 
 
 "Ah, Bradamant," said she, "you have come at last ! 
 Long have we waited for you, yet we knew that you 
 would not fail us." 
 
 "Where am I?" asked Bradamant, rising. "And 
 who are you, who seem to know me so well ? " 
 
 " My name is Melissa," answered the woman. " Men 
 sometimes call me Melissa the witch. The temple in 
 which you are was built by Merlin, the great wizard 
 in the days of King Arthur. You have heard how he 
 was outwitted by the Lady of the Lake, and how he 
 laid himself down in a cavern-cell, and could never rise 
 again? This is the cavern. And in the innermost 
 chamber he still lies, not dead, but sleeping ; and his 
 voice still foretells the doom of those who come to con- 
 sult him. Wouldst thou see the place where lies this 
 ancient seer? Come with me." 
 
 Then the weird woman led Bradamant through a 
 .ong, dark passage-way, to the chamber in which the 
 sage Merlin reposed. The bed, or tomb, in which he
 
 Bradamant the Warrior Maiden. 279 
 
 lay, was built of marble and red jasper and many pre- 
 cious stones, and shone like a sunbeam in the darkness. 
 And the room was paved with rich gems ; the ceil- 
 ing was covered with gold ; the walls were hung with 
 the rarest tapestry. Bradamant trembled with awe as 
 she gazed around upon this strange scene. She won- 
 dered why it was that the Fates, against whose decrees 
 no man may struggle, had brought her hither. She 
 wondered if it were true that Merlin still lived, and if 
 he would vouchsafe to tell what fortunes were held in 
 store for her. She was about to speak, when a voice 
 solemn and grand was heard, coming as it were from 
 the tomb. 
 
 " Brave warrior maiden," said the voice, " may all thy 
 dearest wishes have fulfilment 1 " 
 
 And long the wizard talked with her, urging her not 
 to give up the undertaking she had begun. And he 
 promised her that in the end she should be the most 
 favored of women, the mother of kings and heroes as 
 noble as those of ancient Rome. 
 
 Then Melissa led the warrior maiden back into the 
 chapel ; and the two sat down, and talked long hours 
 together concerning the deeds of the past and the things 
 which were still to betide. And the weird woman said, 
 "If thou art still intent on the quest of the winged 
 horse and his master, and the steel-bright mountain 
 fortress where they dwell, it were well that thou shouldst 
 know their history." And then she told this story to 
 Bradamant.
 
 280 The Story of Roland. 
 
 THE STORY. 
 
 In the first place, you must know that old Atlantes, 
 the wizard who built the fortress of which we are speak- 
 ing, is one of the most knowing of sorcerers, and that 
 he has a nephew named Roger, who is the bravest and 
 noblest of the Moorish princes. Years ago, when 
 Roger was but a child, the old wizard opened the book 
 of fate, and read, much to his sorrow, that the boy was 
 destined in early manhood to leave his home and his 
 kindred, and the friends who had cherished him, and 
 ally himself with their Christian foes. Then Atlantes 
 began to plan how he might fight against the Fates. 
 And by his magic arts he built in a day and a night 
 that mountain stronghold ; and he adorned it with every 
 thing that is pleasant or beautiful, and placed in it every 
 thing that would amuse the young prince whose prison 
 home it was to be. And he brought wise men from 
 foreign lands to teach the boy, and minstrels from 
 north and south to while away the tedious hours with 
 music. And, as Roger grew into young manhood, the 
 bravest knights and the fairest ladies were enticed into 
 the castle, and there imprisoned to keep him company. 
 " His life," said the old wizard, " shall be as pleasant 
 and as gay as it is possible for the life of a prisoner to 
 be. But, whatever the Fates may say, he shall not 
 leave his kin, nor shall he become a Christian." 
 
 At about this time Agramant, the king of Africa, 
 began to think of invading France. Very bitter did he
 
 Br adamant the Warrior Maiden. 281 
 
 feel toward Charlemagne for wrongs which his people 
 had suffered ; very greatly did he covet the vine-clad 
 hills of Gascony. He called his wise men around him, 
 and they discussed their plans together. 
 
 " There is but one way by which you can succeed 
 against the French," said the oldest of his counsellors. 
 " You must enlist under your banner young Roger, the 
 Prince of Morocco. He will prove a host within him- 
 self ; and, without his help, you will fail." 
 
 " But how are we to get him ? " asked Agramant 
 " You know how zealously his old uncle guards him in 
 his steel-clad castle among the Pyrenees. No one can 
 go in or out of that castle ; and the wizard, with his 
 winged horse and his magic, is as much to be feared as 
 an army of Christians. Indeed, it would be easier to 
 conquer Charlemagne single-handed than to take Roger 
 from his uncle." 
 
 "To do this," said the wise man, "you must oppose 
 rrvagic with magic." 
 
 " You speak in riddles," answered the king. " Explain 
 yourself." 
 
 "You have heard of Angelica, the fair Princess of 
 Cathay ? " asked the wise man. 
 
 The king nodded. * 
 
 "You have doubtless also heard that she wears a 
 magic ring on her finger, and that this ring, placed 
 between her lips, makes her invisible to the sight of 
 men ? " 
 
 The king nodded again.
 
 282 The Story of Roland. 
 
 " Well, then, you must get possession of that ring." 
 
 The king flew into a great passion. " You trifle with 
 me!" he cried. "You set me a task, yes, two of 
 them. I ask you how I am to outwit and overcome 
 Charlemagne. You answer by telling me to enlist 
 Prince Roger in my army, and to get possession of 
 Angelica's ring, either of which is harder than fight- 
 ing all the kings in Christendom. Should I ask you 
 how I am to get the ring, you would answer by telling 
 me to do some other task equally impossible." 
 
 " Not so, great king," was the humble answer. " You 
 have here in your court the greatest thief in the world, 
 the dwarf Brunello. It is well known that you would 
 like to rid yourself of him, and that you would have 
 done so long ago if he had not had a charmed life. 
 Send him to Cathay, and offer him, in case he can steal 
 the magic ring for you, the governorship of one of your 
 outlying provinces. If he fail, you will have good rid- 
 dance of him; for he can never come back. If he 
 succeed, it will still be well ; for, being made governor, 
 he will steal from his subjects, and not from you." 
 
 The king was pleased with the wise man's advice, 
 and he forthwith sent Brunello on his mission to Cathay. 
 He promised him, that, if he came safely back with the 
 ring, he should have the rich province of Tingitana for 
 his own. Now, the dwarf was somewhat of a magician 
 himself ; and he had but little trouble in reaching Al- 
 bracca, and stealing the ring from the finger of the 
 princess while she slept. How he made his w"ay back
 
 Br adamant the Warrior Maiden. 283 
 
 to the West it matters but little to us now. We are 
 only concerned in knowing that at this very moment he 
 is on his way to the Pyrenees with the magic ring on 
 his finger, intent upon trying its powers against the 
 wizard skill of Atlantes. 
 
 "And now," said Melissa to Bradamant, "if you 
 would outwit Atlantes, and overthrow the magic castle 
 wherein are imprisoned the bravest knights and the 
 fairest ladies of France, you must get possession of 
 Angelica's ring ere Brunello has tested its powers." 
 
 " How is that to be done ? " asked Bradamant. 
 
 "To-morrow," answered the weird woman, "I will 
 lead you out of this cavern, and show you the road 
 which you shall take. Follow it until you reach the 
 seashore and a little inn, where you will meet the dwarf 
 Brunello. You will readily know him, for an uglier 
 little being never called himself a man. Make some 
 excuse to go with him on his way, but do not touch 
 him until you are in sight of the high towers of the 
 wizard's castle." 
 
 Much more did the gentle Melissa whisper in the 
 warrior maiden's ear ; and all night long they sat in 
 that quiet cave temple, talking of the bright future, and 
 the glorious possibilities which Merlin had promised to 
 the true and great-hearted Bradamant. And at the 
 earliest break of day the weird woman led her guest 
 through a long, dark gallery, out of the cave temple, into 
 a narrow glen deep hidden between two mountains.
 
 284 The Story of Roland. 
 
 And all day they travelled on foot through narrow 
 gorges, and by the side of roaring torrents, and beneath 
 frowning precipices, until at eventide they came to the 
 sea and a broad highway that followed the shore. Here 
 Melissa bade the warrior maiden a hearty godspeed, 
 and turned another way, intent on other duties. And 
 Bradamant went fearlessly onward, until, late in the 
 evening, she came to a little roadside inn. There she 
 found the dwarf Brunello, a hideous little man, hunch- 
 backed and misshapen, and uglier than pen can describe. 
 She lost no time in making his acquaintance. But 
 the wily thief, who supposed he was talking to one 
 of Charlemagne's warriors, was on his guard, and 
 answered her questions with many cunning falsehoods. 
 He told her that he was a poor laborer driven by the 
 ruthless Saracens from his home in Gascony ; and that 
 he was now on his way to Charlemagne to lend the king 
 what little aid he could in driving the invaders from the 
 land. Then he, in turn, questioned Bradamant concern- 
 ing her name, her home, and her kinsfolk. But the 
 warrior maiden met guile with guile, and answered him 
 with many a feigned story ; and her eyes glanced cau- 
 tiously toward his hand to assure herself that the magic 
 ring was there.
 
 The Winged Horse of the Pyrenees: 285 
 
 ADVENTURE XXIII. 
 
 THE WINGED HORSE OF THE PYRENEES. 
 
 EARLY the following morning Bradamant was awak- 
 ened by hearing a great noise in the courtyard of the 
 inn. She quickly donned her armor, and ran to the 
 window to see what was the cause of the disturbance. 
 The host and all his family were gazing upward as if at 
 some wonderful thing in the heavens. Every one about 
 the house seemed greatly excited, and all were talking 
 and shouting and gesticulating in the wildest manner 
 possible. Even the dwarf Brunello was on the balcony, 
 shading his eyes with his hand, and looking upward 
 with an interest too strong to be hidden. 
 
 "What is it ? " asked Bradamant. 
 
 "A winged horse," answered the dwarf. 
 
 " A winged horse ! Where ? Ah, yes, there he is ! " 
 
 Bradamant saw the creature very plainly, sailing 
 serenely through the air above them, and making his 
 way toward the west. His wings were very broad, and, 
 as the rays of the rising sun fell upon them, they seemed 
 colored with every hue of the rainbow. Upon his back 
 sat a knight clad iq g^tterkfc: armor, and holding an
 
 286 The Story of Roland. 
 
 open book in his hand. And so rapid was the flight of 
 the strange animal, that in a few moments he was lost 
 to sight among the far-off clouds and mountain tops. 
 
 " A very strange creature that is," said the host, ever 
 ready to amuse his guests. " It is what we call a hip- 
 pogriff, and I have been told that there is not such 
 another beast in the world. The man who rides him is 
 a great wizard. He reads books, and dabbles with the 
 metals, and gazes at the stars. His name is Atlantes ; 
 and they say, that, on the other side of the mountains, he 
 has the most wondrous castle that ever was built. I 
 have been told that it is made of steel, and that it 
 crowns a crag so steep and high that no creature with- 
 out wings can reach it." 
 
 " And does the wizard live there all alone ? " asked 
 Bradamant. 
 
 " Ah, no ! " answered the host. " He has many fine 
 guests, and others arrive every day. The noblest men 
 and women of France are in attendance at his court." 
 
 " How can that be when the only road to the castle 
 is through the air ? " 
 
 " Oh ! he has his own way of inviting his guests. 
 Whenever he sees a knight more handsome or more 
 noble than the common sort, he merely swoops down 
 upon him with his hippogriff, picks him up, and carries 
 him aloft to his mountain eyry. Many fair ladies and 
 young damsels have been stolen from their homes, and 
 doomed to imprisonment in the wizard's airy palace. 
 And we can only guess whether they are happy or mis-
 
 The Winged Plorse of the Pyrenees. 287 
 
 erable there, for who once goes up to those shining 
 halls can ne'er come down again." 
 
 " How I should like to try a passage at arms with old 
 father Atlantes ! " cried Bradamant. " I wonder if he 
 would think me worth carrying up to his lofty den." 
 
 " It is very likely that he would have you there ere 
 you could deal one stroke with sword or lance," an- 
 swered the host, shaking his head. 
 
 " I have made up my mind to try the venture, at any 
 rate," said the maiden. "Is there any one here who 
 knows the way to the thief's retreat, and who will serve 
 me as a guide ? " 
 
 "May it please you, sir knight," spoke the dwarf 
 very quickly, "I myself will show you the way. I 
 have here a little book in which the road is set down 
 and the whole country described. I shall only be too 
 glad to serve you." 
 
 Bradamant thanked him very kindly, and the two 
 began at once to make ready for the journey. As the 
 White Knight had no steed of her own, she bargained 
 with the host for a palfrey which he had to sell, a 
 light-footed creature, well suited to the road, but ill 
 fitted for the combat. And, before the sun was very 
 high, the knight and the dwarf bade their friends at the 
 inn good-by, and set out on their dangerous venture. 
 Bradamant, clad in her white armor, and bearing a long 
 lance and the white emblazoned shield of Montalban, 
 rode erect and proud as any peer of the realm ; while 
 the dwarf, .with becoming humbleness, followed at some
 
 288 The Story of Roland. 
 
 distance, riding uponjijowly mule. Through a deep 
 valley they passed^ and oveFrugge'd Hills, and through 
 untrodden woods, until they reached the foot of the 
 snowy mountains. Then, with many a mishap and 
 many a weary turn, they climbed the rocky slopes, and 
 came to that place where one may look down and see 
 on one side Spain, on the other the fair fields of France. 
 Then, following a narrow path, they painfully wended 
 their way down again, and came at last to a broad, low 
 plain, and, glancing upward to the craggy slopes on the 
 farther side of the valley, they saw the object of their 
 search, the wizard's air-built castle. The bright tow- 
 ers of steel could be plainly seen, glinting and glisten- 
 ing in the sunlight, but so high that the neighboring 
 cliffs seemed left far below. 
 
 "Behold!" cried the dwarf, riding up close to the 
 knight, " behold the enchanter's dwelling, the prison- 
 house where many ladies and cavaliers pine their days 
 away ! " 
 
 Bradamant knew that the time had come for her to 
 take the magic ring ; but she scorned to harm a crea- 
 ture of so base a sort as the dwarf, weak, unarmed, 
 and unskilled in self-defence as he was. So, while he 
 gazed in rapt wonder at the high-built towers, she sud- 
 denly seized his hands, and slipped the precious ring 
 from his finger. Then she lifted him from his mule, 
 and with strong cords bound him to a neighboring tree. 
 The poor dwarf, with tears and groans and piteous 
 cries, begged her to set him free. But she knew the
 
 The Winged Horse of the Pyrenees. 289 
 
 cunning thief too well, and staid not to listen to his 
 pleas. Leisurely adown the hillside she rode, until she 
 reached the treeless meadow close under the castle; 
 then pausing, she raised her bugle to her lips, and 
 blew a shrill blast, the sound of which was echoed from 
 cliff to cliff, and from valley to valley, until both earth 
 and sky seemed to ring. And, ere the sound had died 
 away, the winged courser, with his master on his back, 
 leaped from the shining towers above, and soared leis- 
 urely up into the mid-air. Then slowly he began to 
 settle toward the earth, circling down, nearer and 
 nearer to the fearless warrior maiden. But Bradamant 
 noticed that the wizard carried neither lance, nor 
 sword, nor other weapon, but that on his left arm he 
 bore a small round shield covered all over with crimson 
 silk, and in his right hand was the open book from 
 which he seemed to be always reading. 
 
 As the wizard with his winged steed charged down 
 upon our heroine, she aimed blow after blow with her 
 lance at the silk-covered shield which he held before 
 him ; but every stroke glanced harmlessly aside. At 
 last, growing tired of this kind of fray, she dismounted 
 from her palfrey, and drew her sword. The wizard, feel- 
 ing now that he had amused himself long enough, be- 
 gan to lift the silken cover from his shield. Bradamant 
 had learned from the weird woman Melissa what sort 
 of shield this was. The magic light which shone from 
 its polished sides had the power to blind, disarm, and 
 overthrow all who looked upon it ; and it was by means
 
 290 TJie Story of Roland. 
 
 of this shield, and not through any strength or skill ol 
 his own, that the wizard won all his victories. Yet 
 such was the virtue of Angelica's magic ring, that it 
 rendered its wearer proof against all enchantments of 
 this kind. 
 
 With the ring tightly clasped in her left hand, and 
 her sword in her right, Bradamant went boldly forward 
 to meet her foe ; but, as she saw the shining shield laid 
 bare, she closed her eyes, as if overcome by its glare, 
 and fell to the ground. The wizard, well pleased, made 
 his steed alight ; and, covering the shield again with the 
 crimson cloth, he hung it upon the pommel of his sad- 
 dle, and dismounted. With a strong cord in his hand 
 he went leisurely forward to bind his prisoner. He had 
 captured scores of valiant knights in this way, and no 
 thought of any mishap had ever entered his mind. So 
 you may imagine his astonishment, when Bradamant, 
 who had only been feigning, rose quickly, and seized 
 him, and bound him fast with his own strong cord. 
 The first thought of the warrior maiden was to slay the 
 wicked wizard ; but when she saw that he was a very 
 old man, with sorrowing, wrinkled face, and snow-white 
 hair, she pitied his age and his grief, and would not 
 harm him. 
 
 "Ah, brave knight 1" said the helpless old man, 
 "you have conquered me, and all my magic has come to 
 naught. Slay me, I pray thee, for life is no longer 
 worth the living." 
 
 " Tell me, first," said Bradamant, " why you carry on
 
 The Winged Horse of the Pyrenees. 291 
 
 this cruel and unknightly warfare against your fellow- 
 men. Why have you built those prison-towers ? " 
 
 " It was all for young Roger's sake," answered the 
 wizard. "He is the noblest and fairest of men, and 
 the only being on earth that I love. I built the castle 
 for him. I stored it with every comfort, and I brought 
 to it every pleasure that the four quarters of the globe 
 could afford. I have sought out the most worthy 
 knights and the handsomest ladies in Christendom and 
 in Paynimry for his companions. I have kept them in 
 prison, it is true ; but it is a prison more delightful than 
 many a palace." 
 
 " Ah, sir wizard ! " said Bradamant, " you should 
 know that a prison, however gilded and painted, is a 
 prison still. Liberty is the sweetest of enjoyments. 
 So come with me at once, and open your gates, and set 
 your prisoners free." 
 
 Old Atlantes, writhing and groaning in helpless dis- 
 tress, obeyed. He led the way to the narrow cleft and 
 the steep, hidden path, up which Roland, as I have re- 
 lated, had ridden blindly into prison. They climbed the 
 rugged precipice, and stood at the golden gate of the 
 castle. Here they paused. From the threshold, where- 
 on were graven wondrous signs and many a magic rune, 
 the wizard lifted a broad flat stone. In a little cham- 
 ber underneath the sill were ranged all kinds of cruci- 
 bles and pots and strangely shaped lamps, wherein 
 burned secret fires such as only sorcerers know how to 
 kindle.
 
 292 The Story of Roland. 
 
 " Oh, sad, sad day ! " sighed the old man, groaning 
 and trembling in deep distress. "Sad day that sees 
 the end of my dearest hopes! But then it becomes 
 not poor mortals to struggle against the decrees of 
 Fate." 
 
 Then he took the magic vessels, and one by one he 
 hurled them over the precipice into the depths below. 
 As the last one fell, and was shattered on the rocks, a 
 wondrous thing took place. The fairy castle, with its 
 steel-bright walls, and its tall towers, and its broad bat- 
 tlements, and pleasant halls, and narrow courtyard, and 
 golden gate, faded away into nothingness ; and in its 
 place was a bleak and cheerless mountain cave, through 
 which the cold winds whistled and shrieked, and in 
 which there was neither light, nor comfort, nor aught 
 that could give pleasure or enjoyment. And out 
 through the rocky cave mouth where erst had stood the 
 golden gate, there passed in long procession the pris- 
 oners who had been entrapped in the wizard's toils. 
 First came the knights, each clad in full armor, and rid- 
 ing his own war-steed; and as they went out they 
 gazed around in utter amazement, not knowing where 
 they were, nor remembering aught of that which had 
 happened to them. There were all the noblest chiefs 
 of Paynimry, Roger the Moorish prince, for whose 
 sake all this witchery had been planned ; and Sacripant 
 the king of Circassia ; and Ferrau the dark-browed 
 Moor, wearing no helmet; and Gradasso of Sericane. 
 There, too, were Roland, and Astolpho of England, and
 
 The Winged Horse of the Pyrenees. 293 
 
 a great host of noblemen and warriors of lesser note. 
 Then came the ladies and the fair young damsels, all 
 mounted on prancing palfreys, and in their wonder 
 scarcely knowing whether to rejoice at this unexpected 
 turn of fortune, or to look upon it as the beginning of 
 new and unknown evils. And last of all came Angeli- 
 ca, the matchless Princess of Cathay, who, like the 
 others, had been entrapped into the wizard's prison- 
 house. And as the sad, glad, bewildered company 
 wound round the rugged hill in their slow and difficult 
 descent to the plain, Bradamant thought that never in 
 the world had there been seen a nobler and more varied 
 array of valor and of beauty. She looked around to 
 speak to the old wizard ; but he had skulked away, 
 grieved, ashamed, and disappointed, to hide himself 
 from the eyes of mankind. And, when the last of that 
 strange procession had passed, Bradamant herself fol- 
 lowed them to. the plain below ; and there, without a 
 word, they parted, each choosing his own way.
 
 294 The Story of Roland. 
 
 ADVENTURE XXIV. 
 
 HOW ROLAND LOST HIS HELMET. 
 
 ROLAND did not know how long he had been con- 
 fined in the wizard's castle. It might have been a few 
 days, it might have been many months. The whole 
 affair was to him but a dim remembrance, a vague 
 and shadowy dream. When he found himself free to 
 go where he pleased, he turned his horse's head toward 
 the east, and hurried forward, hoping within a short 
 time to join the hosts of Charlemagne. He had not 
 gone far, however, when he was overtaken by two 
 knights, who, like himself, had just escaped from the 
 prison-towers of Atlantes, and were on their way back 
 to the scene of war. . They were Sacripant the Circas- 
 sian king, and Ferrau the dark-browed Moor. But the 
 eyes of the three knights had been so blinded by the 
 wizard's enchantments, that they did not know each 
 other. 
 
 " Who are you ? " cried Ferrau, riding furiously down 
 upon Roland. " Turn back, or take another road ! " 
 
 Roland grew very angry at the words and the tone of 
 the Moor; and, turning himself about, he answered,
 
 How Roland lost his Helmet. 295 
 
 " Thou beastly fellow, were it not that thy head is bare, 
 I would soon teach thee who has the best right to this 
 road. Turn back thyself, or else ride on in peace." 
 
 " Trouble not thyself on account of my bare head," 
 said Ferrau. " I am well able to take care of it, as I 
 will show thee if thou move not out of my way ! " 
 
 "Friend," said Roland to Sacripant, who had just 
 ridden up, " I pray thee lend this fellow thy helmet. I 
 would fain teach him something of knightly courtesy." 
 
 "Dost thou take me for a fool?" asked Sacripant. 
 " Whose head would then be bare ? " Lend him thine 
 own helmet, or hush this pother." 
 
 Then Ferrau, fairly boiling with rage, cried out, 
 " Fools are ye both ! As if I might not help myself to 
 a helmet if I wished. But I have sworn to go bare- 
 headed until I win the matchless casque of Roland. 
 No other helmet shall ever touch my head." 
 
 " I warrant," said our hero, smiling, " that, wert thou 
 to meet the knight of whom thou speakest, thy very 
 knees would quake with fear, and thou wouldst not only 
 forego the helmet, but wouldst gladly buy thy life with 
 thy other arras." 
 
 Then Ferrau began to boast that he had often before 
 had Roland on the hip, and that it would be mere child's 
 play to win the helmet from that much over-rated hero. 
 
 "Thou brutish braggart," cried Roland, no longer 
 able to hold himself, " know that I am he of whom thou 
 speakest ! Now see if thou hast the might to take the 
 helmet from me." And with these words he lifted the
 
 296 The Story of Roland. 
 
 fair casque from his head, and hung it upon a branch 
 /of a spreading beech, and at the same time he drew 
 (the dread blade Durandal, and called upon Ferrau to 
 \defend himself. 
 
 Long and fiercely did the two heroes fight. Their 
 swords flashed hither and thither like the lightning's 
 play. Their shields were bruised and dinted in many a 
 place, and yet neither seemed to get the better of the 
 other. Sacripant, who was now more eager than ever 
 to return to his own country, stopped not to see the 
 issue of the combat, but rode onward, little caring 
 which of the knights should be the victor. 
 
 Now, it happened that the Princess Angelica had 
 taken the same road; and as she came near to the 
 scene of combat, and heard the clashing of the swords, 
 and the ringing of the shields, she felt curious to know 
 who it was that fought thus furiously. The thick un- 
 dergrowth of shrubs and the leafy branches of the 
 great beech hid her from the sight of the busy comba- 
 tants ; and, without any fear of being seen, she paused, 
 and 'watched the conflict with great interest. She saw 
 the glittering helmet hanging from the bough above 
 her, and she understood at once what the fighting was 
 about. She did not want the fierce Moor to win that 
 casque : he should not have it, no matter which should 
 be the victor. So, while the two knights were blinded 
 by their angry strife, she quietly took the helmet down, 
 turned her palfrey about, and galloped away toward 
 Marseilles.
 
 How Roland lost his Helmet. 297 
 
 It was long ere either of the knights noticed the loss 
 of the prize. Ferrau was the first to turn his eyes 
 toward the spot where it had hung. 
 
 "Ah, silly blockheads we are!" he cried, "to fight 
 thus blindly, while the knave who rode hither with us 
 carries the rich prize away." 
 
 When Roland saw that the casque was really gone, 
 he agreed with Ferrau in thinking that it had been 
 stolen by Sacripant ; and the* two who, had just been 
 the bitterest of foes, now ceased their fighting, and 
 spurred onward in pursuit of the supposed thief. By 
 and by they came to a place where the road forked, 
 and here they were at a loss to know what to do ; for 
 they saw the prints of horses' hoofs going either way. 
 At length Roland took the road which turned to the 
 right, hoping to overtake the thief in the valley below, 
 while Ferrau kept the path which led nearer the slope 
 of the mountain. All day long did Roland urge his 
 steed forward ; but no traces did he find of the Circas- 
 sian chief, nor did he for many a month recover the 
 gleaming helmet that he so highly prized. 
 
 As Ferrau rode leisurely along the pathway which he 
 had chosen, he came to a pleasant grove, where a spring 
 of water gurgled up among rocks and flowers. He 
 stopped a moment to enjoy the pleasant shade ; and, as 
 his eyes glanced upward, he was amazed to see the 
 coveted helmet hanging on a branch above the spring. 
 With a hoarse cry of delight he sprang forward, and 
 seized it in his hands ; and, as he did so, he caught a
 
 298 The Story of Roland. 
 
 glimpse of the fair princess fleeing, like a frightened 
 deer, through the forest. Well pleased was the fierce 
 Ferrau. The matchless helmet of Roland was at last 
 his own. What cared he now for the success of the 
 Pagan arms in France. He turned his horse about, and 
 with his swarthy head incased in the long-wished-for 
 casque, he rode back leisurely toward Spain.
 
 The Battle. 299 
 
 ADVENTURE XXV. 
 
 THE BATTLE. 
 
 HARD pressed was Charlemagne by his Pagan foes. 
 Great, indeed, was the peril of the French. The enemy, 
 under Marsilius and Agramant of Africa, hemmed them 
 in on every side : they shut them up within the city 
 walls, and battered at the city gates. All France was 
 in distress : all Christendom seemed in danger. Where 
 now were the heroes upon whose valor and strength the 
 hosts of Charlemagne were wont to rely ? The faith- 
 ful Roland was a helpless prisoner still in the mountain 
 keep of old Atlantes. Oliver was sick from a grievous 
 wound, and unable to leave his chamber. Ogier the 
 Dane had fallen into disgrace, and dared not come into 
 the presence of the king. Reinold of Montalban still 
 tarried in Britain. Of all the mighty peers of the 
 realm, Duke Namon alone was with the king ; yet age 
 nad dimmed the old counsellor's eye, and unnerved his 
 hand, and he was no longer a hero in battle as he had 
 been in the earlier days. 
 
 And every day the French host looked with eager- 
 ness and hope for the coming of Roland or Remold ;
 
 3OO The Story of Roland. 
 
 but no tidings were heard of them. And some went 
 boldly to the king, and prayed him to pardon Ogier his 
 offences, and call him to their aid. But the king would 
 not. And, to make the matter worse, fresh hordes of 
 Saracens came daily to strengthen the besiegers. Rodo- 
 mont, the lion-hearted king of Algiers, and Dardinel, 
 the gentlest born of all the Moorish heroes, crossed the 
 sea, and joined their forces to those of Marsilius and 
 Agramant; and the Saracen lines pressed closer and 
 still more closely upon the outposts of the French. 
 
 Just at the time when all hope seemed lost, a herald 
 made his way into the city, bearing glad news. Had 
 Roland come at last ? No ; but Reinold, with eight 
 thousand Scotch and English fighting-men, horse and 
 foot, was but a day's journey away. Hope sprang anew 
 in the hearts of the besieged, and their drooping spirits 
 rallied. The next night, by means of bridge and boats, 
 Reinold and his little army silently crossed the river, 
 and early in the morning they attacked the besieging 
 Moors. Reinold, on his famed horse Bayard, led the 
 charge, leaving his brave Scots fully a bow-shot length 
 behind. At very sight of the well-known hero, the 
 Moorish lines began to waver ; the lances quivered in 
 the hands of the Pagan knights ; their feet trembled in 
 the stirrups; they were ready to retreat. Never had 
 warrior been seen who rode with a prouder grace, or 
 fought with greater skill. Well worthy was Reinold to 
 be called a son of Mars. Many were the valiant feats 
 of arms that he performed that day, and many were the
 
 The Battle. 301 
 
 foes who fell before him. At last, having splintered his 
 good lance, he drew his sword Flamberge, and rode like 
 a destroying hurricane into the Pagan ranks. Right 
 and left the Saracens parted before him. Their arras 
 seemed made of brittle glass, so easily were they shat- 
 tered by the descending blade. Their bucklers of oak 
 and tanned hides, their quilted vests and twisted tur- 
 bans, seemed but as thinnest drapery under the light- 
 ning-strokes of Flamberge. And the swarm of Pagans 
 who flocked to the field fell in his way like the yellow 
 corn before the sickle of the reaper. 
 " The battle thickened. The Moorish host for miles 
 around seemed aroused, and rushing to the combat. 
 The trumpets bellowed forth their deep, sonorous battle- 
 call. The drums beat to arms. On every side were 
 heard the twang of the bow, the whiz of the sling, the 
 crash of lances, dire shrieks, and dismal groans, and 
 loud laments, and all the terrible din of battle. From 
 the more distant parts of the field fresh recruits came, 
 and filled up the gaps which Reinold and his Scotchmen 
 had made ; and it seemed as though the number of the 
 foe grew greater rather than less. The meadows which 
 but yesterday had been so green and fair were red now 
 with human blood ; and where the violets and butter- 
 cups had bloomed before, now heaps of slain men and 
 slaughtered steeds were seen. 
 
 While this fearful battle was raging outside of the 
 walls, Rodomont, the fierce Algerian chief, rode around 
 to the other side of the city. Single-handed he broke
 
 3O2 The Story of Roland. 
 
 through the unguarded gates. From one street to an- 
 other, like a raging lion, he roamed. On every hand he 
 slew, he burned : he spared no one. Charlemagne, who 
 was intent on aiding Reinold in front, knew nothing of 
 this foe who had come in from the rear. Two thou- 
 sand Englishmen had cut their way through the Moor- 
 ish lines, and the gates were opened to receive and 
 welcome them. The king was about to order a sally to 
 be made ; his warriors were in line, waiting his word of 
 command, when suddenly a squire, all pale with dread, 
 and panting for breath, rushed into his presence. 
 
 " Alas, alas ! " he cried, scarcely able to say more, 
 " the foe is within the walls ! Turn, look around, and 
 see the red flames and the curling smoke, and hear the 
 cries of the terror-stricken townsfolk ! " 
 
 Charlemagne waited not a moment. With his brav- 
 est knights he turned, and hastened to meet and drive 
 back this unexpected foe. But he found ruin and 
 desolation everywhere. The palaces were burned ; the 
 churches were in flames ; women and children were 
 hurrying to and fro, seeking places of safety. The 
 king, supposing that a large force of the Moors had 
 broken through the walls, rallied his men around him, 
 and made his way toward the citadel ; for he gave up 
 all else as lost, and thought to make a last stand in that 
 strongly walled fortress. But Rodomont, drunk with 
 blood and victory, and despising all mankind, with a 
 sword in one hand and a torch in the other, was already 
 there. He had followed the terror-stricken people to
 
 The Battle. 303 
 
 the very gates of the castle ; and these he was shaking 
 and smiting, as if he would force an entrance. From 
 the roof above him the warders threw down every sort 
 of missile they could lay hold of, hoping to crush their 
 terrible foe. But Rodomont, fearless and unharmed, 
 and like a demon glittering bright in his armor, still 
 hewed furiously at the gate. At this moment the king 
 and his knights hove upon the scene. Great was their 
 surprise to learn that all this panic and destruction had 
 been the work of a single man. All together they 
 dashed upon the Pagan. Eight lances struck at once 
 against the armor of Rodomont, but all glanced off 
 harmless. The Algerian chief bore a charmed life, 
 and easier would it be to pierce an anvil with a needle 
 than to have smitten him with any weapon. At the 
 call of Charlemagne other knights rushed upon the 
 Pagan. They barricaded all outlets, and sought to take 
 him prisoner. But Rodomont walked straight through 
 their midst, and seemed not to think that any danger 
 threatened him. With long steps and slow, he made 
 his way toward the river ; but he was hindered and 
 galled on every side by a mob of knights and daring 
 men-at-arms. Now and then he turned upon his foes, 
 and fought them like a lion at bay. At length he 
 reached the river-bank, and cast himself, all armed as 
 he was, into the foaming water. Across the stream, 
 without any seeming effort, he swam, as if borne up by 
 corks, and wafted by the wind. He climbed upon the 
 farther shore, and, without looking back at his baffled 
 foes, strode leisurely away.
 
 304 The Story of Roland. 
 
 Meanwhile the battle outside of the walls continued 
 with ever-increasing fury. The carnage lulled not, nor 
 slackened, but wilder grew, and worse. Many times 
 the Moors began to waver ; and they would have given 
 way before the terrible onsets of Reinold and his 
 Scotchmen, had they not been rallied by their gallant 
 young chief, King Dardinel. This chief bore a shield 
 upon which were red and white quarterings, the same as 
 those emblazoned on Roland's arms ; and very rare was 
 his skill in combat, and very great his valor. And 
 when Reinold saw that the fate of the battle depended 
 upon him, he cried out, " This is an evil plant, which it 
 were well to uproot ere it becomes too great and strong." 
 Then, spurring his horse toward the young chieftain, he 
 called out, "Poor child, whose buckler is that thou 
 bearest ? It is a dangerous thing for one like thee to 
 carry. Come, show us how thou canst defend the 
 chosen colors of our own chief Roland ! Doubtless 
 thou hast gotten them by fraud, and thou shalt lose 
 them by force." 
 
 Dardinel was not at all dismayed by the threatening 
 tone and manners of the Montalban hero. " More 
 honor than dishonor shall be mine from these quarter- 
 ings of red and white," he answered. "You shall see, 
 that, though I am a child, I know well how to defend 
 that which I bear. I trust in God, and I shall not dis- 
 grace my father's teaching." 
 
 When he had spoken, the boy raised his sword, and 
 rushed manfully to the conflict. But his weapon fell
 
 The Battle. 305 
 
 harmlessly upon Reinold's helmet ; and before he could 
 turn about, or defend himself, that knight dealt him so 
 furious a blow in the breast, that he reeled in his saddle, 
 and fell lifeless to the ground. As the violet uprooted 
 by the plough lies fading in the scorching sunshine, or 
 as the poppy droops its head and in its beauty dies, so 
 perished this young flower of Moorish chivalry. And 
 with him died the hopes of all his followers. 
 
 The Saracens, dismayed and beaten, now began a 
 wild retreat, and had not Marsilius of Spain wisely 
 led them into a fortified camp which he had made ready, 
 some miles away, few, if any of them, would ever have 
 escaped from France. That night the French host 
 encamped upon the battle-field; and watch-fires high 
 and bright were built all around that bloody plain. 
 And the remnant of the Moors lay uneasily behind 
 their hastily built earthworks, and planned how they 
 might steal away and escape under the friendly mantle 
 of darkness.
 
 306 The Story of Roland. 
 
 ADVENTURE XXVI. 
 
 MEDORO THE MOOR. 
 
 IN the Moorish camp were two young knights named 
 Medoro and Cloridan, the bosom-friends of the ill-fated 
 Dardinel. Cloridan, the elder, was tall and slim, and 
 supple as the twig of hickory or of elm ; and he loved 
 the greenwood and the chase much better than the 
 clashing of arms and the horrid scenes of war. Medoro 
 was very fair, like a Saxon rather than a Moor ; and 
 his long golden hair fell in ringlets about his shoulders ; 
 while his jet black eyes snapped and sparkled like 
 diamonds set in alabaster. Never has painter pictured 
 an angel more beautiful than he. 
 
 On that sad night which followed the day of battle, 
 the two young men, with others of the Moorish host, 
 stood guard before the camp; and every word they 
 spoke was of their lost lord Dardinel, whom they be- 
 wailed and mourned through the earlier watches of the 
 night. 
 
 " Ah, Cloridan," Medoro said, " what grief it is to me 
 that he whom we loved so well should lie unburied upon 
 the plain, the food of the raven and the wolf 1 Gladly
 
 Medoro the Moor. 307 
 
 would I give up my own life to save his body from this 
 last, most dread disgrace." 
 
 And then the two recounted together the noble deeds 
 of the young chief, and talked long of his manly virtues 
 and of the rare graces of his mind and heart. And at 
 length Medoro, carried away by his feelings, cried out, 
 " Cloridan, he shall not lie thus ingloriously upon the 
 field of battle ! I will go now, and find him where he 
 fell, and give him a burial worthy of one so noble 
 hearted. Do you stay here ; and, if I come not to you 
 again, you may say that I have died for the master 
 whom we loved so well." 
 
 Cloridan was amazed to find in his comrade so much 
 love and loyal devotion ; and he would fain have dis- 
 suaded him from a venture so rash, and full of danger. 
 But Medoro was not to be moved from his purpose; 
 rather would he die than forego that which he had 
 resolved upon. So Cloridan, finding him deaf to all 
 entreaties, persuaded him no more, but grasped his 
 hand, and said, "Thou shalt not go alone, Medoro. I 
 will be thy companion, and share with thee the danger 
 and the glory. Rather would I die with thee in arms 
 than that thou shouldst perish in this venture, and I be 
 left to grieve for thee." 
 
 Then the youthful pair stole silently away from their 
 post, and in the darkness of the night made their way 
 to Charlemagne's camp. All there was still. The 
 watch-fires had burned low ; and only an uncertain light 
 was shed among the tents by the few red heaps of
 
 308 The Story of Roland. 
 
 coals and the flickering flame of some half-extin- 
 guished torches. The sentinels, exhausted with the 
 toil and the turmoil of the day, slept at their posts. In 
 their tents, and around the smouldering watch-fires, the 
 soldiers lay asleep among their arms. About the field, 
 with stealthy steps, wandered the two young Moors, 
 eagerly seeking the place where their young master 
 had fallen. Many were the strange sights which met 
 their eyes as they carefully picked their way among the 
 sleeping and the dead. Here, by the side of his tent, 
 was the learned Alpheus, famed all the world over for 
 his skill in magic and astrology. He had fallen asleep 
 over his mystic charts and tables, while watching the 
 stars, and vainly trying to read his own ctoom. Near 
 him lay a beastly drunkard, clasping an empty barrel in 
 his arms, and dreaming of vine-clad hills, and rivers 
 flowing with wine. A little farther on sat a Greek and 
 a Saxon, who had spent the larger part of the night 
 over goblet and dice, and had at last fallen asleep in the 
 midst of a game. Lightly trod the two Moors among 
 the host of sleepers, and it is little wonder if they were 
 tempted to avenge their friends by sheathing their bare 
 blades in the bodies of their slumbering foes. By and 
 by they halted in sight of Charlemagne's pavilion, 
 where the barons and the noblest knights were tented ; 
 and they deemed it best to change their course, for it 
 was not likely that all in that warlike company were 
 carelessly sleeping. So they left the tents behind 
 them, and groped their way across the field, where the
 
 Medoro the Moor. 309 
 
 thickest of the battle had been. Here they saw, lying 
 side by side, or piled in horrid heaps, the dead and the 
 dying, the king and his vassal, the lord and his tenant, 
 the rider and his horse, friends, foes, broken lances, 
 shields and helmets, and bows and falchions, and all 
 the wrack and ruin that follow in the wake of pitiless 
 war. And long did they seek among this dread confu- 
 sion for the body of their loved Dardinel. 
 
 They were about giving up their search in despair, 
 when suddenly the moon peeped out from behind a 
 gloomy cloud, shedding a soft and ghostly radiance 
 over the sad, silent scene. In front of them the young 
 Moors saw the cold walls and high gray towers of the 
 city, standing like great spectres in the pale light. 
 Behind them were the white tents of their foes, in long 
 lines, stretching many a rood on either side. The field 
 of death upon which they stood seemed a thousand 
 times more dread and lonely than when it was hidden 
 beneath the cloak of darkness. Very near to them, on 
 a spot where the moon seemed to shine the brightest, 
 lay a warrior with his arms beside him. It was Dardi- 
 nel : they knew him at once by his shield, and its quar- 
 terings of white and red. Tenderly and reverently 
 Medoro knelt beside the body of his young lord, and 
 many tears he shed for the noble life so cruelly cut 
 short. Then silently the youths lifted the king upon 
 their shoulders, and with careful steps hurried from the 
 field. 
 
 And now the dawn began to appear in the east, and
 
 3 io The Story of Roland. 
 
 the clouds which had seemed so dark became flecked 
 with red and 'gold. The faithful young Moors were 
 still far from their own camp ; nor did they know that 
 their friends had stolen away during the silent night- 
 watches, and were now many leagues on the road to- 
 ward Spain. Slowly and painfully they toiled forward 
 with the burden on their shoulders, more fearful now 
 of discovery than they had been while in the camp of 
 their sleeping foes. Close by was a strip of thick 
 woodland : if they could reach it, they would be safe. 
 Suddenly a hundred horsemen who had been sent out 
 to reconnoitre dashed into view. Before the young 
 Moors could hide themselves, they were seen, and pur- 
 sued. The youths heard the ringing of armor and the 
 clatter of horses' hoofs close behind them ; yet such 
 was their haste that they dared not look back. 
 
 " Let us save ourselves ! " at length cried Cloridan. 
 " It were folly for two lives to be lost for the sake of 
 one who is already dead." 
 
 And he gently shifted his part of the burden from 
 his shoulders, and ran as swiftly as he could to the 
 friendly shelter of the grove. He doubted not but that 
 Medoro was following close behind. But the poor boy 
 would not desert his master, even to save his own life. 
 Without saying a word, he took the whole of the bur- 
 den upon his own shoulders, and slowly and painfully 
 toiled onward. He reached the edge of the wood. 
 Fiercely rode the horsemen down upon him, and thick 
 flew the arrows about his head. He might yet have
 
 Medoro the Moor. 311 
 
 saved himself, had he been willing to leave the body of 
 Dardinel. But he was sorely hindered and distressed 
 The place was strange to him, full of fallen trees and 
 clumps of underbrush; and he was soon lost in its 
 mazes. The horsemen, knowing the wood better than 
 he, were not long in surrounding him. Cloridan, in his 
 safe hiding-place, heard the loud cries of the pursuers, 
 and then the voice of the boy Medoro defying them. 
 It was not until then that he thought of his friend's 
 danger. 
 
 "Ah!" cried he, "why was I so careless thus to 
 think of my own safety only ? Medoro, I will save 
 thee, or die with thee ! " 
 
 He ran from his hiding-place back toward the more 
 open ground. He saw Medoro, followed closely by a 
 hundred rude soldiers, running hither and thither 
 among the trees, but all the time clinging closely to the 
 cherished body of young Dardinel. At last, wearied, 
 and in despair, the youth laid his burden down upon 
 the grass, and, like a wild beast at bay, stood over it, 
 and faced his foes. And now Cloridan, eager to save 
 his friend, fitted the sharpest arrow to his bow, and 
 from behind a leafy tree let it fly among the horse- 
 men. So well aimed was the shaft, that it struck a 
 Scotch knight fairly in the forehead, and stretched him 
 helpless upon the ground. The rest of the band, sur- 
 prised at this unlooked-for blow, turned to see from 
 whence it came ; and Cloridan, quickly launching a sec- 
 ond arrow, laid another horseman low. Fiercely, then,
 
 312 The Story of Roland. 
 
 the leader of the soldiers dashed toward Medoro; he 
 seized him by his long golden curls ; he dragged him 
 roughly forward, and drew his sword to slay him. But 
 when he saw the lad's angel-face upturned toward him, 
 he paused. 
 
 "Ah, kind knight," said Medoro, "I pray, for the 
 sake of the God whom thou adorest, be not so passing 
 cruel as to slay me ere I have buried my master. No 
 other favor do I ask, nor do I wish to live longer than 
 to see the kind earth cover his dear body." 
 
 The sweet, persuasive words of the boy would have 
 moved the stoniest heart. The captain listened, and 
 fain would have spared him, and let him go ; but a 
 churlish fellow, rude and brutish, rode suddenly for- 
 ward, and smote Medoro with his lance. The captain's 
 heart was deeply stirred within him at sight of this 
 base act, and, full of sorrow and wrath, he sprang 
 toward the unfeeling wretch, intending to strike him 
 down. But he, marking his danger, gave spurs to his 
 steed, and fled. 
 
 When Cloridan saw Medoro fall bleeding to the 
 ground, he could no longer hold himself, but, springing 
 from his covert, he ran to meet his foes. He cast his 
 bow aside; he brandished his sword above his head; 
 he charged furiously among the horsemen. A dozen 
 weapons pierced him at once : the leaves and flowers 
 were tinged with his blood, and dying he fell by young 
 Medoro's side. 
 
 " Come, my men," cried the captain, growing heart*
 
 Medoro the Moor. 313 
 
 sick at sight of this sad scene, " come away ! Let us 
 have no more such work as this. It is not the part of 
 true knights to slay young, unoffending boys." 
 
 And the whole company turned about, and followed 
 their chief out of the wood, and back to the camp of 
 Charlemagne. And there, side by side, lay the two 
 young Moors upon the blood-stained grass, the one 
 dead, the other sadly wounded, the life-blood streaming 
 from his veins. And the loved prince for whom they 
 had risked so much, and lost all, lay in his steely armor 
 by them. And there Medoro would have died, had not 
 help come soon and unexpectedly. 
 
 It so happened that a young maiden journeyed 
 through the wood that day, and chance brought her 
 near the spot where the three Moors lay. She was 
 clad in the rustic garb of a peasant ; yet she was very 
 fair, and her noble face betrayed her kinship with noble 
 men. It was Angelica, the Princess of Cathay. By 
 some means it matters not what she had gotten her 
 magic ring again ; and now she was on her way back to 
 her eastern home, fearing no danger, and scorning the 
 thought that she had ever asked the aid of living knight. 
 When she saw the young Moor lying, bleeding and 
 uncared for, upon the ground, her heart was touched 
 with a feeling of pity such as she had never known 
 before. She knelt upon the grass beside him, and 
 listened while he told the story of his sad adventure. 
 
 " Be of good cheer," she said when he had finished. 
 " I will save you."
 
 314 The Story of Roland. 
 
 Then she called to mind the half -forgotten knowledge 
 of physic and surgery which she had learned in Cathay, 
 and she began to bind up his wounds. In a meadow 
 which she had crossed that morning she had seen a 
 plant of wondrous virtue, which she knew would stop 
 the flow of blood, and ease every pain, and she resolved 
 to go back and get it. So, bidding Medoro wait pa- 
 tiently and hopefully till she came again, she hastily 
 retraced her way, and stopped not until she had found 
 and plucked up the precious weed. As she was run- 
 ning back again, she met a peasant riding through the 
 wood. 
 
 " Ah, kind sir ! " said she, " I pray you come with me. 
 A gentle youth lies in the greenwood, wounded unto 
 death. Come and help him, and the fairies shall bring 
 you good luck and happiness all the days of your life." 
 
 The good swain, although loath at first, could not 
 resist the maid's persuasive pleading, but rode back with 
 her to the place where Medoro lay. They found the 
 youth very faint from loss of blood, and nigh, indeed, 
 to death's door. Quickly Angelica bruised the healing 
 plant between two stones, and squeezed the juice upon 
 the young man's wounds. Then soon Medoro began 
 to revive. The blood stopped flowing ; the color came 
 again into his cheeks ; he staggered to his feet ; he was 
 strong enough to sit on the peasant's horse. Yet he 
 would not leave the place until his lord, King Dardinel, 
 and his young friend Cloridan, were laid in the earth. 
 In a grave which the peasant scooped out beneath the
 
 Medoro the Moor. 315 
 
 trees they laid the bodies of the two noble knights, 
 and covered them with turf and soft moss and the 
 grassy sod. And then Medoro gave himself up to his 
 new-found friends, and was ready to go whithersoever 
 they should lead him. 
 
 The countryman was moved alike by the rare beauty 
 of the maiden and the noble bearing of the knight ; 
 and he urged them to go with him to his own home, 
 a pleasant farmhouse in a green and flowery valley. 
 And thither they went ; the wounded youth riding the 
 peasant's horse, while the maiden and the countryman 
 walked on either side. Glad was the welcome with 
 which the peasant's wife and children greeted them at 
 the cottage. The best room was set apart for Medoro's 
 use ; and Angelica, not wishing to lay aside her humble 
 disguise, became as one of the family, and cheerfully 
 helped the good housewife in her daily round of duties. 
 And many years afterward, when the two lived in a 
 gorgeous palace, with every luxury at hand, they were 
 fain to remember this time as the happiest period of 
 their lives. 
 
 And there the princess and the noble young Moor 
 lived many a week with the kind-hearted peasant-folk ; 
 nor would Angelica leave her patient until his danger- 
 ous wound had healed. At first she had felt only a 
 strange pity for him ; but as day after day she gazed 
 into the depths of his flashing eyes, and listened to the 
 pleasant words which fell from his lips, a deeper and 
 far different feeling possessed her. And, when he grew
 
 316 The Story of Roland. 
 
 strong enough to walk about in the open air, the two 
 spent whole days together in the greenwood, listening 
 to the song-birds, and gathering flowers and ferns, and 
 talking of the great world of which they knew so little, 
 and yet so much. And sometimes, to amuse Angelica, 
 Medoro would carve their names upon the rocks and 
 trees. In divers ways, in ciphers quaintly interlaced, 
 he graved the words, ANGELICA, MEDORO. And, ere 
 the summer had fled, the princess and the knight were 
 wedded in the peasant's humble dwelling, and two 
 happy hearts beat henceforth as one. 
 
 And when at length the days began to grow shorter, 
 and the autumn leaves to fall, Angelica bethought her of 
 returning to Cathay, where she intended to share all her 
 honors with Medoro. They had no money wherewith 
 to pay their humble friends for their kindness, nor, 
 indeed, did the good peasants wish any reward. But, 
 as they were about to depart, Angelica took from her 
 wrist a golden armlet rich with rarest gems, and bade 
 her hostess keep it always in memory of them. Then 
 with many kind godspeeds, and many tears, the noble 
 couple turned away from the cottage, and took the high- 
 road that runs toward Spain. Together they climbed 
 the rugged Pyrenees, and descended into the sunny 
 plains beyond ; and not many weeks later they came to 
 Barcelona, where they made themselves known, and 
 where they waited for a vessel to sail, and bear them 
 to their distant home.
 
 A Contest for Durandal. 317 
 
 ADVENTURE XXVIL 
 
 A CONTEST FOR DURANDAL. 
 
 ROLAND came to the scene of battle only a single 
 day too late. The victory, as we have seen, had been 
 won through Reinold's valor. The Pagan hosts, beaten 
 and disheartened, were flying toward Spain. France 
 was freed from her great peril. Roland felt mortified 
 and ashamed, that, while others had been fighting for 
 their country's honor, he had been delayed in the air- 
 built castle of the magician Atlantes. Yet Charle- 
 magne and his peers welcomed him as heartily as if he 
 had come in the time of need ; and a day was set apart 
 for glad thanksgiving, not only for the great victory 
 which they had gained over their foes, but also for the 
 safe return of the hero whom they had mourned as lost. 
 And it was long ere Marsilius, or Agramant, or any 
 other Saracen chief, dared lead his hosts again into 
 France. 
 
 / After this, Roland did many noble deeds of arms for 
 the honor of France and Christendom. I cannot stop 
 to tell you now of his gallant feats at Rome when that 
 city was besieged by Laban and Lukafere, the kings of
 
 3i8 The Story of Roland. 
 
 Babylon; nor of his famous passage-at-arms with the 
 Pagan Sir Ferumbras; nor how he fought and slew 
 the giant Ferragus, a monster thirty feet high, and the 
 terror of the Christian host ; nor how he conquered Sir 
 Otuel of Spain in fair fight, and forced him to submit 
 to baptism. All these stories, and many more, you 
 may read in the songs and poems of the old days of 
 chivalry. 1 While everywhere there were tyranny and 
 wrong-doing, Roland, with his strong arm and manly j. 
 voice, sought to defend the right, and uphold justice. / 
 The vows which he had taken upon entering knight- 
 hood were ever in his mind ; and he deemed that his 
 life could not be spent more worthily than in the ser- 
 vice of his country, his king, and his fellow-men. 
 
 Once on a time, as he was riding through a moun- 
 tainous country near the sea, he found himself belated, 
 and overtaken by the darkness of night, while yet he 
 was many miles from any dwelling. As he looked 
 around to find some place of shelter, he was surprised 
 to see a light streaming from a narrow cleft in the 
 mountain side. Did it come from the cell of a hermit 
 who had hidden himself in this lonesome place in order 
 to escape from the bustle and bloodshed of those cruel 
 times ? Or did it betray the hiding-place of robbers, 
 of men whose hands were lifted against their fellow- 
 men, and who cared nought for knighthood's vows or 
 valorous deeds ? Roland did not stop long to consider. 
 Whatever kind of dwelling it might be from which 
 
 1 See Note 15 at the end of this volume.
 
 A Contest for Durandal. 319 
 
 this light came, he was determined to enter it, and de- 
 mand a night's lodging. In front of the entrance to 
 the cave was a great thicket of thorns and bristly 
 underwood, so dense that any one passing that way 
 in the daytime would not have noticed any break in 
 the rock. It was not likely that a hermit would thus 
 guard and conceal the entrance to his cell. 
 
 The knight tied Brigliadoro to the branch of an elm, 
 and stealthily threaded his way through the thicket. It 
 was not hard to find the narrow door of the cavern, for 
 the bright light streaming through it showed him plain- 
 ly the way to go. A short flight of narrow steps cut 
 rudely in the stone led downward into a vaulted cham- 
 ber, which seemed chiselled out of the solid rock. The 
 smoke-begrimed ceiling was very high ; and through an 
 opening in the centre, which served at once as window 
 and chimney, the twinkling stars looked down. Upon 
 the floor beneath this opening a bright fire burned, 
 casting a ruddy glow around the room, and lighting up 
 the doorway, and sending its rays far out into the dark- 
 ness beyond. Before this fire sat a damsel, very young 
 and very fair, clad in a garb which Roland thought 
 would have been better suited to a palace or a king's 
 court than to this dismal place. Her great blue eyes 
 were swollen with much weeping ; yet she was so ex- 
 ceedingly fair, that her very presence seemed to drive 
 all gloom from the cheerless place. Seated on the floor, 
 not far away, was an old hag, withered and gray and 
 toothless, who was mumbling and scolding and cursing,
 
 320 The Story of Roland. 
 
 as if in a terrible rage about something. Roland, see- 
 ing that these two were the only persons in the room, 
 advanced, and kindly saluted them. Both dame and 
 damsel were greatly surprised at the sight of a knight 
 in armor standing thus unexpectedly before them ; but 
 they arose quietly, and each, in her way, welcomed him 
 to their cavern-home. The old hag, like one who is 
 afraid of the day, shrank from the hero's gaze, and 
 cowering sought the deeper shadows of the room. But 
 the maiden, with hope beaming in her fair countenance, 
 looked up with tearful, pleading eyes, into his face. The 
 knight knew at once how matters stood in that rude 
 dwelling. 
 
 " Tell me," said he kindly to the maiden, " why thou 
 art imprisoned in this cheerless place. Who is it that 
 is so void of gentleness and manly feeling as to bury 
 thee in this mountain dungeon ? " 
 
 Then, with floods of tears rolling down her cheeks, 
 the maiden told him her sad story. She told him that 
 she was the only daughter of the old Saracen king of 
 Gallicia, and that her name was Isabella ; that she had 
 been secretly betrothed to Zerbino, the son of Scot- 
 land's king; that, without the consent of her father, 
 she had embarked on shipboard at Bayonne, intending 
 to follow her lover to his own country ; and that on the 
 first night of the voyage a great storm had arisen, and 
 had driven the vessel upon the shore, where it was 
 wrecked among the high, pointed rocks. 
 
 " The captain saw well our danger," said she. " He
 
 A Contest for Durandal. 321 
 
 lowered the galley's skiff, put me in it, and, with two 
 of his men, embarked among the breakers. Landward 
 over the raging surf we were driven ; and, what was 
 little short of a miracle, we safely lighted on a shelving 
 beach. The shore was bleak and barren. No dwelling 
 was in sight, nor any pathway, but only bare cJiffs, and 
 high, wood-crowned hills. Yet the first thing that I did 
 was to fall upon my knees, and offer up thanks to kind 
 Heaven for our deliverance. But, alas ! I found that 
 I had been snatched from the waves, only to fall into 
 the hands of foes more pitiless than the sea and the 
 storm. A band of pirates who infest these shores, 
 and who had seen the wreck from the cliffs above, 
 rushed down upon us ere we were aware. Vainly did 
 the good captain and his men try to defend me. The 
 robbers slew them on the beach, but they harmed me 
 not. I was a rich prize, they said, and some time I 
 should be sold for a high price to some wealthy Moorish 
 prince. And they brought me to this cave, and gave 
 me into the care of this old dame, who is my jailer. 
 And here for weary months I have been imprisoned as 
 in a living grave, scarce hoping ever to be free." 
 
 While yet the damsel was speaking, a company of 
 men came silently down the stairway, and stood in the 
 cave. They were rude, brutish-looking fellows, some 
 armed with hunting-spears, and some with swords ; and 
 they paused in surprise at sight of the Joiight seated" 
 before the fire, and eagerly listening to the maiden's 
 story.
 
 322 The Story of Roland. 
 
 " Ah, my good man J " cried the leader of the band, 
 "thou hast come in the very nick of time. I have 
 long wanted a good suit of armor ; and that which thou 
 wearest will certainly serve me well." 
 
 With a look of scorn upon his face, Roland turned, 
 and faced the robber crew. "If you win these arms," 
 said he to the leader, "you shall pay a dear price for 
 them." 
 
 Then, disdaining to use his sword against foes so 
 " /vile, he seized a burning brand, and hurled it fiercely 
 among them. And, picking up a heavy table that stood 
 close by, he dealt such lusty blows about him, that those 
 of the robbers who were not entirely disabled were glad 
 to save themselves by a disgraceful flight. He waited 
 not to see whether they would return ; but he took the 
 maiden Isabella by the hand, and led her out of her 
 prison. 
 
 "I have heard of the Scottish chief Zerbino," said 
 he. " He follows now the banner of my cousin Reinold 
 of Montalban ; and there are but few braver knights 
 than he. Come with me, and we will find him." 
 
 Then he mounted Brigliadoro ; and, helping the maiden 
 to a place behind him, the two wended their way out of 
 the forest. And as they rode through the silent ways, 
 the stars moved slowly across the gray sky above them, 
 and the moon journeyed far to the west, and sank ir 
 the ocean-waves ; and the red dawn began to appear L. 
 the east. And just as the sun arose they found them- 
 selves standing on the brow of a wooded hill, while in
 
 A Contest for DurandaL 323 
 
 the valley below them was a small village, or cluster 
 of peasant's houses ; and farther away, on the brow of 
 another hill, was an old, half-ruined castle. 
 
 There seemed to be a great excitement in the little 
 village, if one might judge from the uproar which was 
 heard. The dogs were barking ; the men were shout- 
 ing, the women scolding, the children crying ; every one 
 was running hither and thither, as if the world were 
 coming to an end. On the farther edge of the village 
 a small company of knights was seen slowly approach- 
 ing, with long pennons floating above them. 
 
 " Wait here," said Roland to his fair charge, as he 
 helped her to alight. "I will ride forward, and see 
 what is going on." 
 
 Isabella concealed herself amoug the thick under 
 wood, while Roland gave spurs to Brigliadoro, and was 
 soon galloping through the single street of the village. 
 It did not take him long to find out the cause of the 
 commotion which he had observed. The knights with 
 the pennons were the men of Count Anselm of May- 
 ence, and they were leading a prisoner to execution. 
 The people were wild with excitement, and kept shout- 
 ing, " Death to the traitor ! Off with him ! " 
 
 Roland rode close up to the procession ; and the 
 country-folk, being unused to a knight of so noble a 
 mien, parted right and left before him, and allowed him 
 to advance until he was very near to the prisoner. You 
 may judge of his surprise when he saw that this man 
 was none other than Zerbino, the Scottish cavalier in
 
 324 The Story of Roland. 
 
 quest of whom he had so lately set out. The young man 
 was fettered with ugly chains, and bound to the back 
 of a draught-horse ; and he sat with drooping head and 
 downcast eyes, scarcely noticing the jeers and threats 
 of the rude rabble. 
 
 "What is the meaning of this?" cried Roland. 
 " What has this man done ? " 
 
 "He is a murderer," answered one of the guards. 
 "Count Pinabel, son of our master, Anselm of May- 
 ence, was found dead yesterday in the mountain glen ; 
 and this is the man who slew him." 
 
 " It is false ! " said Zerbino, not raising his head. 
 
 "It is true ! " said the man. " For he came last night 
 to the village inn for lodging, and while he was there 
 the body of poor Pinabel was carried in. No sooner 
 had this man come near than the wounds of the slain 
 knight began to bleed afresh. There is no surer proof 
 of guilt than that." 
 
 "Ay," cried the rabble, "there is no surer proof! " 
 
 "Untie the man !" said Roland. And he swept his 
 lance around him, and knocked a score of the rude 
 fellows prone into the dust. " Untie him, and let him 
 go!" 
 
 Zerbino raised his head, and turned to see his deliv- 
 erer. The crowd of angry churls fell back, and began 
 to disperse. The rude fellows were not more afraid of 
 the knight's long lance and glittering sword than of his 
 flashing eye and towering form. Within three minutes 
 the road was cleared: guards, peasants, and all were
 
 A Contest for Durandal. 325 
 
 flying across the fields, eager to escape the fury of the 
 hero. Roland and Zerbino were left alone. It was 
 but the work of a moment to sever the cords, and break 
 the chains, with which the prisoner was bound. Then, 
 full of thankfulness for his unexpected delivery from 
 death, Zerbino went back to the inn where he had 
 stopped, and donned the armor which had been taken 
 from him. He found his steed still feeding in the stable ; 
 and, having mounted him, he rode out of the village 
 proudly by Roland's side. You may judge of his sur- 
 prise when he met the fair Isabella on the hilltop ; and 
 as for her no happier maiden ever lived than she. 
 And the three friends left the village behind them, and 
 turned their faces northward, intending to make their 
 way by the shortest route to Paris. 
 
 They had not ridden far, however, when they were 
 overtaken by a tall and powerful knight, clad in the 
 richest armor they had ever seen, and bearing a shield 
 on which were engraven the arms of Trojan Hector. 
 It was none other than Mandricardo, the Tartar chief 
 to whom Fortune had given the arms which Roland 
 had at one time so greatly coveted. Long time had he 
 sought Roland, for he wished to win from him the 
 doughty blade Durandal. As he rode up, he scanned 
 the two knights with curious, searching eyes ; but most 
 he gazed at Roland ; for he knew by his bearing that 
 he was no common knight. At last he spoke. 
 
 " Thou art the man I seek," said he. " For ten days 
 I have followed thee. I have heard of thy deeds, and
 
 326 The Story of Roland. 
 
 I have sought thee long, first to see thee, and second 
 to prove thy might." 
 
 " And how knowest thou that I am the man ? " 
 asked Roland. 
 
 f "By thy port and thy haughty bearing," answered 
 Mandricardo. "I would know thee as a hero among 
 ten thousand." 
 
 " Thou, too, mayst be a valiant cavalier," said Roland ; 
 "for brave desire is not often lodged in weak minds. 
 If thou wouldst fain see me, I will lay aside my helm 
 that thou mayst look. Yet thou must know that a 
 man's heart is not always seen in his face." 
 
 He lifted his helmet, and the Tartar looked long at 
 his noble face. 
 
 " Thou hast gratified my first wish," then said Man- 
 dricardo. "The second still remains. Come on, let us 
 prove whether thy valor is equal to thy good looks ! " 
 
 Roland looked with surprise at the Tartar; for al- 
 though he examined on both sides, and even in the 
 pommel of his saddle, he could see about him neither 
 sword nor mace. 
 
 " You have no sword," said he courteously. " How 
 will you save yourself if your lance should fail ? " 
 
 "Know thou," said the Tartar proudly, "that I am 
 Mandricardo, and that I bear the arms which great 
 Hector bore a thousand years ago. To them there is 
 nothing lacking save the sword Durandal, which I am 
 told one Roland of France carries. And I have vowed 
 that never shall mace or falchion be wielded by my
 
 A Contest for Durandal. 327 
 
 hand until I win that doughty blade, and avenge my 
 father Agrican, whom that same Roland treacherously 
 slew." 
 
 "Not so!" cried Roland, growing angry. "Thou 
 liest ! Never slew I any man treacherously. I am 
 Roland ; and this blade is Durandal, the sword thou 
 seekest. Win it, and thou shalt have it. See, I hang 
 it on this tree, and he who conquers in this combat 
 shall have it." 
 
 So saying, he hung the sword on the limb of a sap- 
 ling close to the highway; and the two knights, turning 
 their horses, rode off the distance of a bow-shot from 
 each other. Then, wheeling suddenly, they plied their 
 spurs, and rushed together with a shock like that of an 
 earthquake. The lances of both were shivered into a 
 thousand pieces, only the staff-ends being left in their 
 hands. With these club-like fragments they then en- 
 gaged, beating each other most mercilessly over shoul- 
 ders and head. Soon these weapons, too, were splint- 
 ered, and the combatants were without arms. They 
 would have fought with their fists ; but wherefore, when 
 he who strikes suffers more than he who is smitten ? As 
 a last resort, they grappled with each other ; and the Tar- 
 tar chief strained Roland to his bosom as if he would 
 squeeze the breath from his body. In his earnest fury 
 he thoughtlessly dropped the rein of his horse's bridle. 
 Roland, sitting firm in his saddle, saw his opportunity, 
 and quickly slipped the bridle from the horse's head. 
 The steed, frightened, and feeling himself free, started
 
 328 The Story of Roland. 
 
 off with a bound : little recking whether his road were 
 smooth or rough, he galloped swiftly away over fields, 
 and through the woodland, carrying his unwilling master 
 with him. 
 
 Roland waited a long time for the Tartar's return, and 
 finally bethought him that he would follow and overtake 
 him. So he bade Zerbino and Isabella a heartfelt god- 
 speed on their way to Paris, and set out in search of his 
 enemy. For three days he sought him, but all in vain : 
 he could find no traces of either the Tartar or his 
 horse. On the fourth day he gave up the venture, and 
 turned his face once more toward Paris and the court 
 of Charlemagne, from which he had been long time 
 absent
 
 How Roland became his own Shadow. 329 
 
 ADVENTURE XXVIII. 
 
 HOW ROLAND BECAME HIS OWN SHADOW. 
 
 IT chanced one day that Roland came to a pleasant 
 woodland, which was bordered on one side by a meadow, 
 and on the other by a hoary mountain. Tall trees lifted 
 their heads toward the sky, seeking the sunlight, and 
 defying the storm ; climbing vines formed many a pleas- 
 ant arbor among the trunks and branches ; and cool 
 bowers invited the tired knight to take shelter within 
 them from the hot beams of the midsummer sun. A 
 mountain brook, whose banks were bordered with wild- 
 flowers of every hue, wound here and there among the 
 trees, singing on its way to the grassy meadow beyond ; 
 and the air was filled with the smell of fragrant blos- 
 soms and the sound of drowsily humming bees. Our 
 hero was weary with his long journey, and overcome 
 with the excessive heat. For many days he had been 
 on the road, scarcely stopping for a night's rest, or to 
 partake of needed food. This grove seemed so cool and 
 inviting, that he determined to dismount, and sit for a 
 while in the shade. There was a strange throbbing in 
 his head ; the blood in his veins seemed boiling hot ; his
 
 330 The Story of Roland. 
 
 pulse beat hard and fast. He had never felt so misera- 
 ble. He loosened his helmet, and laid it upon the 
 grass ; he knelt down, and drank a long, refreshing 
 draught from the flowing brook; and then he bathed 
 his feverish temples in the cool liquid, and lay down 
 iir.ong the flowers to rest. By and by he arose, but he 
 felt not a whit better than before. He looked up at the 
 great trees which lifted their heads so high above him : 
 he admired their gnarled branches, and their smooth, 
 sturdy trunks. On one of them he noticed some strange 
 letters carved, and he wondered what they could mean. 
 He went nearer, and saw that they formed the word 
 "ANGELICA." He thought it strange that the name of 
 the Cathayan princess should be engraved in this out- 
 of-the-way place ; and yet she herself might have carved 
 it while resting here in the shade, just as he was doing. 
 He walked a little farther into the grove, and saw the 
 name again; but this time another "MEDORO" was 
 written beneath it. Who was Medoro ? He had never 
 heard of such a person, but the name had a Moorish 
 sound about it. Farther on, the trees seemed covered 
 with these names written in every conceivable way, 
 in letters Arabic, Roman, and German. Even the 
 rocks were scribbled over with chalk and charcoal, and 
 always with the words "Angelica, Medoro." Filled with 
 a nameless feeling of disgust, Roland turned away. He 
 mounted his good Brigliadoro, and rode forward on his 
 journey. 
 But he did not ride far. In the valley between the
 
 How Roland became his own Shadow. 331 
 
 mountains he saw blue smoke rising from a shepherd's 
 :ottage ; he heard the bleating of sheep and lambs, the 
 lowing of cattle, and the glad voices of children. He 
 thought that this would be a pleasant place to rest until 
 the morrow, and he determined to stop. As he rode 
 into the yard, the shepherd met him, and asked him to 
 alight, for the sun was sinking, and night was at hand. 
 A boy ran forward, and led Brigliadoro to the stables, 
 while Roland and his kind host walked side by side into 
 the house. All the good folk of the cottage were eager 
 to serve the warrior. One took his shield, another his 
 helmet, a third his cuirass, and a fourth his golden spurs. 
 The shepherd himself, with becoming reverence, took 
 care of the dread blade Durandal, all sheathed in its 
 gemmed and golden scabbard ; and the good wife 
 busied herself in making ready the evening meal, a 
 meal such as should be worthy of so noble a guest. 
 
 As Roland, well pleased with his lodgings, looked 
 about him, he was surprised to see that the walls and 
 rafters of the humble dwelling were scribbled over with 
 the same words that he had seen on the trees in the 
 grove, "ANGELICA, MEDORO." The shepherd noticed 
 his wonderment, and, being a talkative fellow, was not 
 long in telling him the whole story He related how the 
 young Moor had been sadly wounded, and how he had 
 been nursed back to life by the fair and gentle Princess 
 of Cathay ; and how, at length, the handsome pair had 
 been married, and had gone away to their home in the 
 golden East.
 
 332 The Story of Roland. 
 
 " And if you don't believe it," said the swain, seeing 
 a strange, wandering look in the warrior's face, " I will 
 prove the truth of my story ; for we have here the fair 
 maiden's bracelet. She gave it to my wife as a keep- 
 sake." 
 
 And he brought from an inner room a golden armlet 
 which Roland remembered as the same which he himself 
 had given, long time before, to the handsome maiden of 
 Cathay. He gazed at the pretty ornament a moment, 
 and then silently gave it back to his host. His eyes 
 seemed dazed; and there was a strange feeling about 
 his brows and temples, such as he had never before 
 known. His hostess pressed him to eat of the food 
 which she placed before him, fresh venison from the 
 woodland, the whitest loaves made from the farmer's 
 own wheat, wild honey from the wooded mountain 
 slopes, and all the delicacies that the good woman 
 knew. But he would taste nothing. Somehow, the 
 words, "Angelica, Medoro," rang in his ears, and 
 burned in letters of fire before his eyes, and so filled 
 his mind that he could think of nothing else. 
 
 Some men say that our hero had been deeply and 
 madly in love with the Princess of Cathay, and tfyat all 
 his distress at this time was caused by his feelings of 
 disappointment. 1 But I cannot think so; for the fair 
 and heroic Alda, the sister of Oliver, had long been 
 betrothed to him, and waited now for him in Paris, and 
 prayed for his happy return. More likely it was the 
 
 ' So says Ariosto in the Orlando Fi
 
 How Roland became his own Shadow. 333 
 
 tiresome journey over dusty roads and in the broiling 
 sunshine, that set Roland's brain on fire, and made him 
 forget himself so long. 
 
 The best bed in the only spare chamber was given to 
 Roland, and there, through the long hours of the night, 
 he tossed in pain ; and whether he closed his eyes, or 
 gazed about the room, those two fatal words, "Angelica, 
 Medoro," were ever present to his sight. The morning 
 came ; and still the warrior lay upon his bed, but not 
 in pain. His mind wandered far away to his mother 
 the gentle Bertha, or to Alda his betrothed ; or some- 
 times he thought himself in the din of battle, fighting 
 manfully for the king and sweet France ; or he dreamed 
 that he was again in Fairyland, among the cooling water- 
 falls and shady groves, listening to the songs of the birds, 
 and the hum of the bees, and the gay music of the fairies. 
 Day after day he lay in the quiet, darkened chamber, 
 carefully watched and tended by the good shepherd and 
 his wife. And more than once did he step down very 
 near to the dark door of death, but good nursing and 
 ceaseless care saved him. Little by little, he grew 
 stronger and stronger ; yet he was not the same Roland. 
 He did not know where he was : he fancied the humble 
 room wherein he lay to be a lofty chamber in some 
 grand castle ; and, instead of the good host and hostess, 
 he saw by his bedside his brother-knights, and ready 
 squires and pages in waiting. And when, one day, the 
 kind housewife drew aside the curtains, and allowed him 
 to look out over the meadows, and the fields of ripening
 
 334 The Story of Roland. 
 
 corn, he thought himself again a barefoot boy, wander- 
 ing among the byways of Sutri, and longing for the 
 time when he should be one of Charlemagne's peers. 
 And the country-folk could not understand why it was. 
 that, while his body grew hale and strong again, his 
 mind still remained clouded. 
 
 " I am not the Roland whom you think I am," said 
 he. "That Roland is dead, and I am only his shadow." 
 
 One day, after he had gotten strong enough to sit up, 
 he amazed his host by calling for his armor. 
 
 "The king is in danger," he cried. "I must ride to 
 the rescue." 
 
 He donned his coat of mail, and put on his greaves 
 and his helmet. And the shepherd's wife buckled on his 
 golden spurs ; and the shepherd brought him his shield 
 and his good sword Durandal. 
 
 " Where now is my horse Brigliadoro ? " he asked. 
 "Without him, I shall fare but ill on the battle-field." 
 
 They had hoped, that, after his arms were girded on 
 him, he would forget this last illusion ; and they tried 
 to persuade him that the king was in no need of help. 
 But he would not listen. He must have his steed, and 
 he must ride at once to Charlemagne. The peasant's 
 son led the horse, all caparisoned in steel and gold, to 
 the cottage-door. The noble beast was impatient for a 
 canter across the plains, or another encounter in the 
 tourney or on the battle-field ; and he neighed with 
 pleasure at sight of his master. The knight mounted 
 him, and rode down the hill-slope toward the wooded
 
 How Roland became his own Shadow. 335 
 
 plain and the meadow. The way led him through the 
 grove where he had stopped and rested on that after- 
 noon when last he was himself. He saw the trees and 
 the rocks still bearing the words, "Angelica, Medoro;" 
 and a nameless fury filled his soul. He fancied now 
 that he was in the thick of battle, and that giant foes 
 beset him on every side. He drew his sword, and smote 
 madly about him. Wherever he saw the hated names 
 engraved, there he hacked and cut, until not a single 
 letter remained. He alighted from his horse, and hewed 
 down the underbrush, and filled the mountain brook with 
 stones and turf. And after he had exhausted all his 
 strength he seemed to grow calmer. He stopped, and 
 stood long time, as if in thought. 
 
 " I am not the Roland whom some take me to be," 
 he said, speaking to himself. " I am only the shadow 
 of that knight, and shadows need no arms." And 
 then, moved by a sudden freak of madness, he threw 
 his sword upon the ground : he rushed from one part 
 of the wood to another, all the while loosening and tear- 
 ing off his armor. In one place he left his shield, and 
 in another his helmet; while farther away he doffed, 
 one by one, his gauntlets and his greaves, his breast- 
 plate, and lastly his golden spurs. Then, with loud 
 cries that were echoed among the mountains, and even 
 carried back to the kind peasant's cottage, he strode aim- 
 lessly away, nobody knew whither. Well was it, that 
 in those dark and troublous times people were wont to 
 look with awe upon the madman, and regard him as one
 
 336 The Story of Roland. 
 
 specially protected by Heaven ; for, had it been other- 
 wise, the sad shadow of Roland would have fared but 
 badly, wandering alone through strange and unfriendly 
 lands. 
 
 It happened, not long after this, that a knight and a 
 lady rode by that way. The knight was Zerbino, the 
 Scottish cavalier; and the lady was the fair Isabella. 
 As they approached the woodland, they were surprised 
 to find the golden spurs of Roland lying in the dust by 
 the roadside. A little farther on, they saw other pieces 
 of his armor, and lastly his shield and sword. And as 
 they looked about them, wondering what all this meant, 
 they espied the good steed Brigliadoro, calmly grazing 
 in the meadow, his bridle-reins hanging loose from the 
 saddle-bow. They noticed that the trees around them 
 had been strangely hacked and hewed, and that the 
 grass and flowers had been rudely trampled down ; but 
 they could see no signs of bloodshed, nor of any con- 
 flict with arms. The longer they paused, and studied 
 about this matter, the more puzzled they became. 
 
 While yet they stood, uncertain what to do, the shep- 
 herd's son came down the road, on his way to the sheep- 
 pasture. He stopped, and told them the whole story of 
 Roland's long illness, and of the strange madness which 
 had seized upon him. 
 
 "Alas!" said Zerbino, "our brave friend is no longer 
 himself. Yet, when his fury is all spent, his senses may 
 return to him, and he will need his good arms. We will 
 take care that they are not lost."
 
 How Roland became his own Shadow. 337 
 
 Then he carefully gathered up all the pieces of that 
 matchless armor, and hung them on the branches of 
 a pine-tree by the roadside. And beneath them he 
 carved in the soft bark these words : "THESE ARE THE 
 ARMS OF ROLAND." And he knew that no true knight 
 who read this inscription would remove or disturb them. 
 When he had done all that could be done for the honor 
 of his noble friend, Zerbino remounted his steed ; and, 
 leading Brigliadoro behind them, he and the fair Isabella 
 went on their way. 
 
 Scarcely were the Scottish knight and his companion 
 well out of sight, when the sound of clattering hoofs 
 and ringing armor was heard far down the road ; and 
 the shepherd's boy, who still lingered near the pine, 
 admiring the richness and beauty of Roland's armor, 
 saw a tall knight riding fast toward the spot. He was 
 mounted on a white steed, and was clad in a coat-of- 
 mail whose brightness rivalled that of the sun. On his 
 arm he bore a shield of great splendor, and his crested 
 helmet glistened with many a jewel. Yet he wore no 
 sword at his side ; and his lance, which was new, seemed 
 a very inferior one. This knight was Mandricardo the 
 Tartar chief. When he saw Roland's arms hanging 
 upon the pine, he halted, and drew near to read the 
 inscription. Twice he read it ; and then, to make sure 
 that there was no mistake, he scanned with great care 
 every piece and part of the armor, but looked most at 
 the sword Durandal. 
 
 "Ha!" cried he in great delight, "this is indeed the 
 blade of Trojan Hector."
 
 338 The Story of Roland. 
 
 He drew it from its scabbard, and looked with pleased 
 eyes upon its fire-edge, and read the quaint inscription 
 on its side. He admired its jewelled hilt, and tested its 
 temper by bending its blade into a perfect circle, and by 
 hewing the trees and rocks around him. Then he turned 
 suddenly toward the trembling boy. 
 
 " How came this armor here ? " he asked in tones of 
 thunder. 
 
 The boy told him the story of Roland's madness, and 
 how he had thrown his armor away, and run roaring 
 into the forest ; and how Zerbino had picked up the 
 pieces, and hung them on the pine. 
 
 " I understand it all," said the Tartar. " The fellow 
 is not mad : he is only feigning. And he has left his 
 armor here, only because he knew that he was not strong 
 enough to keep the sword Durandal. He is afraid to 
 make trial of arms with me again, and he has taken this 
 plan to present the sword to its rightful owner. I shall 
 take it, but small thanks shall I render to him." 
 
 And he unbuckled the scabbard and the jewelled belt, 
 and fastened them to his own armor. Then, after again 
 glancing at the shining edge and the richly carved sides 
 of Durandal, he quietly returned it to its sheath. " My 
 long quest," he said, "has not been in vain. With 
 Hector's arms complete, who now can contend with Man- 
 dricardo ? " And, striking spurs into his horse's flanks, 
 he turned, and galloped back in the same direction 
 \vhence he had come. 
 
 In the mean while whither wandered the shadow of
 
 How Roland became his own Shadow. 339 
 
 the mighty Roland ? Aimlessly, as one walking in his 
 sleep, he roamed through the forests, and over fields and 
 desert wastes. At night he slept in the open air, with 
 no shelter but the blue vault of heaven. His only food 
 was the wild fruit of the forest, nuts and berries, 
 and, when these failed, the bark of trees. He shunned 
 the dwellings and faces of men, and seemed to have 
 forgotten his own manhood. A thousand times was his 
 life in peril, and a thousand times did some mysterious 
 power shield and save him. Sometimes, in his lonely 
 wanderings, he encountered wolves and bears, and other 
 fierce beasts of the wood; but they harmed him not, 
 for they knew that he was but the shadow of a man. 
 Sometimes he was endangered by storms and floods, 
 but the good fairies who guard the lives of heroes led 
 him safely through them. And he wandered in the 
 darkness of night among the mountain crags, and on 
 the edge of steep cliffs, and amid pitfalls and bottom- 
 less gorges ; but an unseen Power guided his footsteps, 
 and no harm befell him. And he went southward, and 
 climbed the Pyrenees, and crossed over into the country 
 of the Spanish Moors. And there a strange adventure 
 happened to him. 
 
 Rodomont, the warrior-king of Algiers, of whom I 
 have elsewhere told you, had withdrawn into Spain, 
 breathing words of bitterness and hate to all mankind. 
 He had done many very wicked deeds, and slain many 
 innocent and hapless folk, and he was ever haunted by 
 the remembrance of his wrong doings ; and so he not
 
 340 The Story of Roland. 
 
 only hated others, but himself also, and sought some 
 means of escaping from his gloomy, guilty thoughts. 
 And he caused to be built in a narrow mountain pass, 
 a tall tower of solid mason-work, in the centre of which 
 he placed a little chapel and the tomb of some of his 
 most noble victims. On three sides of the tower there 
 ran a mountain stream, swift and deep, the water as 
 cold as the ice-cliffs from which it was fed. Across 
 this stream a wooden bridge was built, scarce two yards 
 wide, and guarded by neither rail nor banister. Upon 
 the tower a sentinel stood, to give notice when any 
 strange knight should approach the bridge. Rodomont 
 himself sat in a narrow chamber, like a giant in his 
 cave, ready to ride out, and meet any new-comer not 
 with warm words of welcome, but with couched lance, 
 and hoarse cries of defiance; for he had vowed that 
 he would not rest until he should have the arms of a 
 thousand knights wherewith to deck the strange tomb 
 which he had built. And he obliged every one who came 
 that way, either to fight him on the bridge, or to give up 
 his arms to him as a trophy. From time to time, many 
 knights had fallen into his trap. Some, from mere 
 bravado and love of adventure, had come thither on 
 purpose to meet him in combat on the bridge ; but the 
 greater number of his victims were innocent travellers, 
 who had been belated in the mountains, and had ven- 
 tured to seek shelter in his inhospitable tower. Some 
 had been, at the first onset, knocked off the bridge, 
 and drowned in the raging torrent below : others had
 
 How Roland became his own Shadow. 341 
 
 been taken captive by the Algerian, their arms hung up 
 as trophies, and they themselves thrown into a dun- 
 geon. 
 
 One day the sentinel called out, as usual, to his mas- 
 ter, that some one was approaching the bridge. Rodo- 
 mont quickly mounted his war-steed, and, with lance 
 in rest, galloped out to meet the intruder. But, when 
 he saw what kind of a man it was who stood on the 
 other end of the bridge, he paused. Who would have 
 dreamed that it was Roland ? His clothing was mere 
 tatters and rags ; his feet were bare ; his long hair fell 
 in tangled masses upon his shoulders. He glanced 
 uneasily at the raging waters beneath him, and then at 
 the high tower beyond ; then his eyes rested upon the 
 mailed warrior who confronted him at the other end of 
 the bridge, and some of the old fire which had so often 
 amazed his foes in battle seemed to flash from beneath 
 his shaggy brows. 
 
 " Go back ! " cried Rodomont. " Keep off the bridge ! 
 It was not built for such as thou." 
 
 Roland heard the words, and dimly understood their 
 meaning. He was not wont to obey commands, nor 
 could he ever brook an insult. Instead of doing as the 
 Algerian bade him, he walked boldly upon the bridge. 
 The angry Rodomont at once dismounted, threw his 
 lance to the ground, and went forward on foot to meet 
 him. 
 
 "Turn back, and save thyself!" he cried. "Thou 
 art not worthy to be touched with lance or sword ; but,
 
 342 The Story of Roland. 
 
 if thou come another step, I will throw thee into the 
 torrent below us." 
 
 Roland said not a word, but strode fiercely onward. 
 The two met at the middle of the bridge. They grap- 
 pled each other. But the struggle was a short one. 
 Roland lifted the Algerian giant in his arms as if he 
 had been a child, and held him dangling over the side 
 of the bridge ; then, with all his strength, he flung 
 him down into the roaring waters below. But the mad- 
 man had not wit enough to free himself altogether from 
 the grasp of his enemy ; and, losing his balance, he, too, 
 fell into the stream. The waves dashed high about 
 them ; but the water was deep, and both escaped being 
 dashed upon the rocks. Roland swam at once to the 
 shore, and climbed out of the gorge, and went on his 
 way, aimlessly and thoughtlessly as before, toward the 
 south. And Rodomont, after being drifted far down 
 the stream, was cast upon a sand-bank, whence, with 
 the greatest hardship, he at length succeeded in reach- 
 ing the shore. 
 
 It so happened, that while Roland and the Algerian 
 chief were struggling on the bridge, a maiden of 
 France, named Flordelis, was passing by. She had 
 been brought up at Charlemagne's court, and had 
 known Roland all her life. So, when she saw him in 
 his pitiable plight, wrestling with the fierce Rodomont, 
 she knew, notwithstanding his rags and his unkempt 
 hair, that he was none other than the hero whom all 
 Christendom mourned as dead. She watched the issue
 
 THE BRIDGE OF RODOMONT.
 
 How Roland became his own Shadow. 343 
 
 of the fight with the greatest anxiety; and when he 
 had fallen into the stream, and clambered to the shore 
 again, she tried to approach him, and speak with him. 
 But he fled so fast through the mountain pass, that he 
 far outstripped the palfrey which she rode, and was 
 soon out of sight. For three days she sought him 
 among the mountains and the valleys ; but all that she 
 could hear or learn of him was that some Moorish 
 peasants had seen him, making his way with long and 
 hasty strides toward the south. And so she gave up 
 the search, and rode back to France, to tell Charle- 
 magne and his peers, that Roland, the noblest warrior 
 of them all, was still alive.
 
 344 The Story of Roland. 
 
 ADVENTURE XXIX. 
 
 A FLIGHT TO THE LAND OF PRESTER-JOHN. 
 
 KING CHARLEMAGNE sat in his council-hall, and the 
 noblest peers of the realm stood before him. 
 
 "Who now, for the love of our dear nephew," said 
 he, "will seek for him, and bring him back, that we 
 may see him happily restored to his right mind ? " 
 
 And Duke Namon answered, " My lord, such wonder 
 was never known, that a madman should recover his 
 senses. And, however much we have loved him, the 
 Roland whom we once knew is now no more. Only a 
 shadow remains where there was a man before." 
 
 And Reinold of Montalban said, "There are other 
 knights in your service as loyal, as brave, and as true 
 as ever our cousin Roland was. Trust them to uphold 
 your power, and defend your kingdom." 
 
 And Ganelon, the old traitor, smiled, and said, " Me- 
 thinks that this Roland is now well out of our way, 
 and that we shall nevermore hear it said, ' Behold the 
 king's nephew, the knight without fear and without 
 reproach I ' " 
 
 But Oliver said, " My lord, I will follow my brother
 
 A Flight to the Land of Prester-John. 345 
 
 to the ends of the earth, rather than not find him. I 
 will bring him back to France, to his home and his 
 kindred, and those who love him, that through their 
 care and kindness he may be healed." 
 
 And Astolpho, the poet-knight, said, "I also will go 
 in search of the lost hero ; for although I have neither 
 the strength nor the skill of a warrior, yet who knows 
 but that my fancy in its highest flights may discover 
 the lost senses of Roland, and bring them back to their 
 owner ? " 
 
 Then Oliver and Astolpho mounted their steeds, and 
 rode away ; and they pledged themselves that they would 
 never come back to France, nor undertake any other 
 adventure, until they should find Roland, and see him 
 whole again in mind, and worthy to be called the peer- 
 less knight. 
 
 Now, it chanced that Astolpho owned a wonderful 
 winged horse, the same creature that had once be- 
 longed to Atlantes, the Moorish wizard. Astolpho had 
 long kept this steed, with care and secrecy, in his own 
 castle among the mountain peaks, where the wild eagles 
 soared, and the air was fresh and pure, and the busy hum 
 of the laboring world was seldom heard. Sometimes, 
 merely to amuse himself, the knight had mounted his 
 winged courser, and taken short flights into fairyland, 
 or soared aloft toward the sun. And he had often 
 thought, that when Charlemagne's wars were over, and 
 he was no longer needed either at court or in the field, 
 he would take a longer flight, and stop not until he had
 
 346 The Story of Roland. 
 
 reached the farthest boundaries of the earth. So, now, 
 he hastened back to his mountain castle, resolved to 
 make use of the winged steed in his search for the lost 
 hero. 
 
 At Astolpho's command the wondrous horse was led 
 out of the marble halls, where he had been stabled, and 
 accoutred for a flight longer than any he had ever yet 
 taken. It was early morning. The sun was rising drip- 
 ping from the waters of the great midland sea. The 
 crags and peaks shone like burnished silver against 
 the dark-blue sky. The crimson clouds turned golden, 
 and then melted away into nothingness. The moun- 
 tain eagles flew down from their rock-built eyries, and 
 screamed around the hero and his steed, and then soared 
 high toward heaven, as if daring him to a loftier flight. 
 Astolpho vaulted into the saddle. The noble steed 
 spread his wings, and leaped into the air. Upward and 
 still upward he soared, until the green fields of France, 
 and the rugged mountains and the snow-crowned peaks 
 dwindled almost out of sight. The screaming eagles 
 were left far behind, the great sun seemed not much 
 higher. The whole earth was transformed into a scene 
 of beauty such as the knight had seldom dreamed of, 
 Sweet France lay directly beneath him, spread out like 
 a map, its rivers and mountains and forests and fields 
 dimly outlined in the hazy distance. To his right was 
 fair Spain, bounded on three sides by the sea, and on 
 the fourth by the great wall of the Pyrenees. In front 
 of .him was the midland sea, stretching away and away,
 
 A Flight to the Land of Pr ester- John. 347 
 
 as far as the eye could reach, until its shining waters 
 seemed hidden behind the sun. And there he saw vine- 
 clad Italy basking in the morning light ; and farther away 
 lay the isles of Greece, where the gods in the golden 
 time taught men the sweet secrets of music and song. 
 
 And the winged steed sailed onward toward the rising 
 sun, faster than falcon or swiftest bird that flies. Over 
 the midland sea he flew, and over many strange coun- 
 tries, and amid many beautiful scenes. He came to the 
 land where grow the date and the palm ; he soared above 
 the shaggy tops of the Atlas Mountains, and the Great 
 Desert, which lies sultry and bare beyond ; he winged 
 his way over Nubia and the land of the Pyramids and 
 the Nile. Yet Astolpho allowed not his steed to stop. 
 He had heard of another land still farther, where he 
 hoped to learn tidings of the sad-minded Roland. From 
 Egypt, his course now lay southward : he followed the 
 great River Nile even to its mysterious head-spring, 
 and over the boundless regions of Ethiopia he directed 
 his flight. He came at length to the wondrous realm 
 ruled by the mighty Prester-John, and there his steed 
 alighted. 
 
 The land in which Astolpho now found himself 
 seemed to be a very paradise of delights. It was gov- 
 erned by an ancient Christian prince, whose birth and 
 lineage were unknown, and whose dominion stretched 
 eastward to India, and southward to the great sea. In 
 that land every man was a hero, not one who wins a 
 name and fame through bloodshed or on the battle-field,
 
 348 The Story of Roland. 
 
 but one whose heart is free from guile, whose brain 
 is clear, whose every deed is noble. In that land there 
 were temples and palaces and cities surpassing in riches 
 and beauty any thing that Astolpho had ever before seen. 
 There every kind of gem-stone was found, emeralds, 
 sapphires, carbuncles, onyxes, and beryls; and gold 
 was more plentiful than iron. There, too, every strange 
 and useful animal lived. It was the home of the ele- 
 phant, the camel, the white and red lion, the white 
 bear, the wild horse, the wild ox. There, also, roamed 
 those wondrous creatures of which we read in the old 
 myth-stories of Greece, 'such as centaurs and fauns and 
 satyrs and pygmies and strange chimeras. And there 
 dwelt the phcenix, that solitary bird, which, after living 
 a thousand years, burns itself on its own funeral-pile, 
 and afterward rises with renewed youth from the ashes. 1 
 
 Near the place where Astolpho first alighted there 
 was a garden, and in the garden was a fountain. On 
 either side of the fountain sat two saintly men, who 
 were dressed in long white robes, and whose hair and 
 beard were whiter than the drifted snow. These men, 
 as the knight approached, arose, and saluted him. 
 
 " Art thou a Christian ? " asked one. 
 
 " I am," answered Astolpho, making the sign of the 
 cross. 
 
 "Wouldst thou be healed of all thine infirmities, 
 whether of body or of mind ? " asked the other. 
 
 " Nothing do I desire more greatly," was the answer. 
 
 1 Sec Note 16, at the end of this volume.
 
 A Flight to the Land of Prester-John. 349 
 
 Standing within the fountain was a pure white stone, 
 shaped like a mussel-shell, and covered by a few inches 
 of water. 
 
 " If what thou sayest is true," said the elder, who had 
 first spoken, " step now into this mussel-shell." 
 
 Astolpho did as he was bidden, and the water began 
 of its own accord to rise about him. Three times it 
 lifted itself, and gushed over his head; and then the 
 aged men bade him step out of the fountain. As he 
 did so, he felt as if the balmiest days of his youth had 
 returned, and that he should never again be oppressed 
 \vith weariness or pain. 
 
 "Go thou," said the elders, "and may no evil thing 
 betide thee ! " 
 
 Then Astolpho went straight to the palace wherein 
 dwelt the king. The walls which stood around this pal- 
 ace were of the purest white marble. The drawbridge 
 was of ivory, and the chain and bolts were of gold. 
 The gate was a wondrous piece of workmanship, 
 wrought of precious metals and costly stones ; and 
 above it was placed the horn of a horned snake, so that 
 nothing unclean could pass through. The inner gates 
 were of ebony, inlaid with gold. At each end of the 
 palace was a high tower ; and on each of these a car- 
 buncle and an apple of gold were placed ; and by day 
 the golden apple shed a soft radiance over the palace 
 and all the country around, while at night the carbuncle 
 shone as brightly as the sun at noon. The wide court- 
 yard was floored with onyx, a stone which gives
 
 3 so The Story of Roland. 
 
 strength and courage to the feeble-hearted. The archi- 
 traves, the joists, the ceilings of the palace, were of 
 the mystic Sethym wood : the roof was of ebony, and 
 so built that fire could never touch it. Heavy curtains, 
 and carpets of every hue and texture, added comfort to 
 riches. In wall and roof and pavement were countless 
 pearls and purest gems. And in the great assembly- 
 hall was a wondrous mirror, reached by five and twenty 
 steps of porphyry and serpentine, in which the king 
 could see at a glance every thing that was happening 
 in every corner of his kingdom. 
 
 No man knew how long this country had been ruled 
 by Prester-John ; for, in a land so blessed with every 
 comfort and every luxury, the years were all golden, 
 and men noticed not the flight of time. The great 
 Prester-John kindly welcomed Astolpho to his court, 
 and ordered that the best guest-room in the palace 
 should be made ready for his use. But the knight was 
 surprised to see, that, although the king was surrounded 
 with every thing that could add to one's happiness, 
 there was an air of sadness on his face, as if he were 
 harassed by some fearful evil which he could not escape. 
 
 It so happened that the day was a great feast-day, 
 when all the earls and noblemen in the kingdom were 
 bidden to court, and a rich banquet was to be served 
 in the hall. And Astolpho was invited to sit at table 
 with the rest. 
 
 " I hope, indeed, that they will not come to-day," the 
 king was overheard saying to one of his courtiers.
 
 A Flight to the Land of Prester-John. 351 
 
 And our hero wondered who it could be whose com- 
 pany was so undesirable. 
 
 At the appointed hour the guests were led into the 
 banquet-chamber. There the ceilings were very high 
 and vaulted, the windows were large, and the doors 
 were broad. The floor was waxed and polished until it 
 shone like a mirror. The tables were of ebony, inlaid 
 with amethyst and gold, and supported upon legs of 
 ivory. Astolpho was seated on a raised platform at 
 the right hand of the king ; and the noblest men of the 
 realm dukes, earls, archbishops, and bishops sat 
 near him. While the attendants were placing the food 
 before them, the king, pale and trembling, as if fearing 
 some great danger, told Astolpho the story of his sad 
 misery. 
 
 " You would think," said he, " that a man living in 
 the midst of all these delights would be supremely 
 happy. And yet I am the most miserable of earth's 
 creatures. I will tell you why. Far to the south there 
 is a beautiful mountain, the like of which is found in no 
 other land. On that mountain, it is said, there is ever- 
 lasting spring; and there old age is unknown, and death 
 never comes. Long was it my wish to discover that 
 earthly paradise, and long did I aspire to add it to the 
 kingdoms of my realm. At last, in an evil hour, I mar- 
 shalled my hosts, and with a noble array of knights and 
 lords I marched across the southern desert, determined 
 to carry my banners to the very summit of that famous 
 mountain. But when we reached it, sad was our dis-
 
 352 The Story of Roland. 
 
 appointment. The white cliffs rose up before us, like the 
 walls of a great city ; and, when we tried to scale them, 
 the rocks rolled down upon our heads ; the dark gorges 
 opened, and swallowed up my warriors ; fire and smoke 
 belched forth from the peaks ; and rivers of melted rock 
 poured down upon us. And then I heard a voice saying, 
 ' Think not, vain man, to pry into the secret things of 
 the Most High. Go back into thine own country, and 
 be thankful that thy life is spared.' Then I turned, and 
 fled with all speed from that forbidden ground. And, of 
 all the mighty host that had gone with me thither, not 
 more than a tenth returned with me to this land. And 
 the Harpies, who since the days of Jason and the Argo- 
 nauts had been penned up in the cave of the Winds, 
 were freed from their prison, and sent to harass me 
 every day of my life. And now, like Phineus of old, 
 I am miserable in the midst of delights, I am tormented 
 with hunger while all around me is plenty; for no sooner 
 is my table ready, than those loathsome creatures swoop 
 down, and snatch the food from my plate, .and leave me 
 naught to satisfy my hunger. It is thus that Heaven 
 punishes him who would lay hands upon forbidden 
 things." 
 
 The king had scarcely finished speaking, when Astol- 
 pho heard a strange noise above them, like the whirring 
 of many wings in the upper air. The old king covered 
 his face with his hands, and cried out, "They come! 
 there is no ridding ourselves of them." And many of 
 the guests arose, and fled from the hall.
 
 m 
 
 THE HARPIES.
 
 A Flight to the Land of Prester- John. 353 
 
 Then, through doors and windows, the Harpies came 
 flying in. Seven in number were they, pale-faced, 
 blear-eyed, with long crooked talons, and snake-like tails 
 knotted in many a fold. Down upon the feast-table they 
 swooped, and they stopped not their greedy onslaught 
 until every morsel of food was snatched from the board. 
 Astolpho drew his sword, and struck manfully about 
 him ; but as well might he have smitten the wind, for 
 the sharpest blade could not cut through the feathery 
 armor of those loathsome fowls. 
 
 "Ah, me!" cried the king, "is there no escape? 
 Must I endure this torment forever?" 
 
 Then Astolpho bethought him of a horn which he 
 carried at his girdle. The weird woman Melissa had 
 given it to him long before, and had said to him, "When- 
 ever your sword fails you, blow this horn." So, after 
 the king and all who were in the hall had filled their 
 ears with wax, he lifted it to his lips, and blew such a 
 bugle-blast as had never before been heard in the land 
 of Prester-John. The palace itself shook from turret 
 to foundation-stone ; the leaves of the trees quivered as 
 in a storm ; the rocks rolled down the mountain-side. 
 The Harpies, more affrighted than when, in the olden 
 time they had been chased by the sons of old Boreas, 
 flew in wild dismay from the hall. Astolpho quickly 
 mounted his winged charger, and followed them, blow- 
 ing peal after peal upon his wondrous horn. Southward 
 the creatures flew, across the great sandy desert ; nor 
 did they slacken their flight until they reached the
 
 354 The Story of Roland. 
 
 mountain whereon the earthly paradise was said to be. 
 Into a dark and narrow cavern in the mountain's side 
 they flew, the prison-house into which the sons of 
 Boreas had driven them long before. And Astolpho, 
 with trees and stones, and whatsoever else would serve 
 as a wall or hedge, wedged up the cavern-door ; so that 
 never again shall those loathsome creatures visit the air 
 to torment mankind with their horrid presence. 
 
 And the poets tell of many other wondrous deeds 
 that Astolpho did in the land of Prester-John, how he 
 visited the earthly paradise, and talked there with the 
 patriarchs of old ; how he flew to the moon's orb, and 
 was shown the place where all things are stored. jthat- 
 have been lost on earth ; how he found there the lost 
 senses of the unhappy Roland, and brought them in a I 
 phial back to the earth ; how he visited the place where 7 
 the ^T^tes~spm"The"t1iread of life, and weave the woof 
 of doom for every creature ; and how he healed the sick, 
 and restored sight to the blind. But, whether these 
 stories be true or false, I will not stop to repeat them to 
 you. Let us hasten to find the now long-lost Roland. 
 
 When Astolpho had learned from the Fates the 
 whereabouts of Roland, and the manner in which that 
 knight should be made himself again, he went into the 
 presence of Prester-John, and asked a boon of that king. 
 
 "You shall have whatsoever you wish," said the 
 6 rateful monarch. 
 
 And Astolpho asked that a band of warriors should 
 be allowed to go with him across the desert, to invade
 
 A Flight to the Land of Pr ester- John. 355 
 
 Algeria and the land of the Moors, and thua lend aid to 
 his liege-lord Charlemagne. And the king was well 
 pleased to grant this request. And he sent forth heralds 
 to bid all the bravest warriors of his realm to come and 
 join the standard of Astolpho. And there came from 
 every mountain stronghold and from every countryside, 
 troops of knights and armed men, equipped and ready 
 for the long march. Some came on the backs of ele- 
 phants, some on camels ; but the greater number were 
 on foot, for there were no trained horses in that country. 
 But, when they learned that they were expected to 
 march across the Great Desert, they shook their heads, 
 and hesitated. 
 
 " We shall never live to cross those terrible sands," 
 said some : " for the South-wind will come upon us 
 like the breath of a furnace, and will scorch the skin of 
 our bodies, and parch our fc tongues with thirst ; and 
 then the whirlwind will take up the burning sand in its 
 arms, and hurl it down upon us, and bury us alive." 
 
 But others said, " Cannot he who has done such won- 
 ders in our midst control even the South-wind? We 
 will trust him." 
 
 On the evening previous to the day which had been 
 set for the march, Astolpho secretly mounted his 
 winged courser, and flew away toward the south. On 
 and on he flew, until he came to the land where dwell 
 the summer's heat and the fierce fire-forces. There; in 
 a cave, the South-wind has her home. Every day, at 
 early morn, she comes out of her dwelling, and roams
 
 356 The Story of Roland. 
 
 over the earth, kissing the buds and blossoms, and caus- 
 ing them to open to the sun ; rippling the waters of the 
 lake, and rustling among the canebrakes and the corn ; 
 melting the snow and the ice on the mountain tops, and 
 laughing with the rivulet which pours its waters over 
 the rocky ledge ; unlocking the frozen rivers, and send- 
 ing great icebergs floating out to sea; speeding the 
 heavily laden ships on their homeward voyage ; stirring 
 the waves into fury; and feeding the death-dealing 
 whirlwinds which sweep over the desert and the sea. 
 Oh, a kind blessing, as well as a fearful curse, is the 
 South-wind! When Astolpho came to her dwelling, 
 she had retired to rest. Not a leaf was stirring on the 
 trees, not a ripple could be seen on the lake. All na- 
 ture seemed asleep. Even in the cavern of the South- 
 wind no sound was heard, save that of her heavy 
 breathings as she lay reposing in her golden chamber. 
 Astolpho hearkened a moment, and then carefully 
 spread a magic net across the cavern's mouth ; so that 
 when the South-wind should awaken from her slumber, 
 and should step forth from her dwelling, ready dight 
 for her wondrous journey over the world, she should 
 be caught and held fast in the meshes. Then he 
 turned the head of his winged courser, and was soon 
 safely back in the palace of Prester-John. 
 
 At sunrise the dreaded march across the desert was 
 commenced. And the warriors who followed Astolpho 
 wondered what had become of the South-wind, and why 
 no sand-storms overtook them ; for the only breeze that
 
 A Flight to the Land of Prester-John. 357 
 
 met them was the gentle, cooling West-wind, which 
 cheered and strengthened them during their long jour- 
 ney. And at last the gray peaks of the Atlas Moun- 
 tains, and the tall palm-trees of Algeria, came in sight, 
 and their perilous march was at an end. Then the 
 South-wind, who had at last rid herself of the trouble- 
 some net, came tripping across the desert after them. 
 She climbed the mountains behind them, and played 
 among the tree-tops in the valleys, and whistled glee- 
 fully in the glens ; but she had no power to do them any 
 harm. 
 
 In the old poems, you may read wonderful stories 
 of the manner in which Astolpho supplied his foot- 
 soldiers with steeds by turning stones into horses ; of 
 how he routed Agramant and the other Saracen chiefs 
 in battle ; of how Charlemagne, hearing of his exploits, 
 crossed the sea, and laid siege to Africa ; and of many 
 wondrous feats of arms performed by the Christian 
 knights. Let us return to the pitiable fortunes of our 
 hero. 
 
 Wandering aimlessly from place to place, as if drawn 
 by some unseen hand, Roland advanced each day 
 farther and farther south. At length he came to a 
 little seaport town. The Straits lay before him, and 
 beyond them was Africa. He was possessed with a 
 mad wish to go onward, forever southward ; and he felt 
 that neither mountains nor seas should hinder him. 
 A ship had just left the shore, with a party of Moorish 
 soldiers on board. He rushed to the water's edge, call-
 
 358 The Story of Roland. 
 
 ing to the sailors to come back, and take him into the 
 vessel. But they, seeing his ragged clothing, and his 
 wild, furious gestures, guessed rightly that he was some 
 poor maniac, and paid not any attention to his cries. 
 When Roland found that the vessel would neither turn 
 back, nor wait for him, he leaped madly into the sea, as 
 if determined to swim across. Long and manfully did 
 he buffet the waves, now rising high on the top of a 
 swell, and now sinking deep into the trough of the sea. 
 Both the land and the ship were out of sight ; but still 
 he struggled onward, knowing only, that his life de- 
 pended upon his keeping his head above the water. 
 Yet he certainly would have been drowned, had not 
 another vessel hove that way. The valiant swimmer 
 was taken on board, and carried across the Straits : for 
 the Moorish knights who were in the ship pitied his 
 forlorn case ; and, when they reached their own shores, 
 they allowed him to wander whithersoever he would. 
 
 It happened at this time, that the Christian hosts, 
 with Charlemagne and Astolpho, were encamped not far 
 from the sea, waiting for ships and a fair wind to bear 
 them back to France. One day a strange man, ragged 
 and tanned, came suddenly into the camp. He turned 
 not aside for any thing that stood in his way. He 
 hurled the warriors right and left from his path; he 
 overturned the tents; he frightened the horses; he 
 threw every thing into a panic. Astolpho and the 
 knights who were with him seized their weapons, and 
 ran hastily out to see what was going on. You may
 
 A Flight to the Land of Prester-John. 359 
 
 judge of their wonder and delight when they found 
 that this strange madman was their old friend and 
 comrade, Roland. By Astolpho's orders, they closed 
 around him, and seized him from behind. Fiercely he 
 struggled ; and ill would his assailants have fared, had 
 not their armor protected them from his mad blows. 
 At length he was thrown to the ground, and bound 
 hand and foot. And the good Astolpho took the pre- 
 cious phial of sense which he had carried so long and 
 so carefully, and held it beneath the madman's nose. 
 A great change came over Roland. His unsettled 
 mind at once regained its firmness, and his understand- 
 ing became as strong and as clear as it had been of 
 yore. He gazed about him, like one who wakes from a 
 dream, and finds himself in a strange place. He saw 
 Astolpho and Oliver and Ogier standing over him, and 
 he wondered why it was that he lay bound and unarmed 
 upon the beach. Then the wild, vacant look passed 
 from his face, and he seemed as calm and as composed 
 as he had been in his happiest days. His friends knew 
 that his madness had left him. They quickly unbound 
 him, and raised him to his feet. They led him to Astol- 
 pho's tent, and clothed him in raiment becoming the 
 noblest of knights, and told him the strange story of 
 his madness. And the next day a feast and a tourna- 
 ment were held in his honor, and the good Archbishop 
 Turpin offered a public thanksgiving for the happy 
 return of the wanderer. And many stories are told 
 of Roland's prowess while yet the French army WM
 
 360 The Story of Roland. 
 
 delayed in Africa, how, single-handed, he defeated 
 three kings in a deadly passage at arms, and by so 
 doing saved the life of his brother Oliver ; how he re- 
 gained by force the matchless helmet which Ferrau had 
 carried away ; how he won also for himself the sword 
 Durandal, which Mandricardo the Tartar had stolen; 
 and how, in every case, he dealt wisely and uprightly, 
 and never sought undue advantage over his foes.
 
 How the Peers returned to France. 361 
 
 ADVENTURE XXX. 
 
 HOW THE PEERS RETURNED TO FRANCE. 
 
 WHEN Charlemagne and his host embarked for 
 France, the sky was fair and the sea was calm. But 
 soon a storm arose. The waves ran mountain-high, the 
 ships were at the mercy of the winds. The king and 
 his peers sat together in the same vessel; and the 
 heroes who had faced unflinching the dangers of a 
 hundred fierce battles, now felt their hearts sinking 
 with fear. 
 
 " I know well the art of the tourney and the battle," 
 cried Roland, the peerless chief ; " but what avails that 
 art here in this wilderness of waves ? " 
 
 And Ogier the Dane, said, " I know how to wield the 
 sword, and how to touch the harp and bring forth sweet 
 melody ; but such knowledge is of little use to quell the 
 fury of these winds." 
 
 Then Oliver, the look of gladness all faded from his 
 eyes, drew his sword from its scabbard, and, gazing 
 tenderly at its flashing edge, said, " No fear have I for 
 myself, but I grieve that Haultclear shall find so in- 
 glorious a grave."
 
 362 The Story of Roland. 
 
 " If I only knew a way to save myself," said Ganelon, 
 but he said it very low, "little would I reck what 
 evil fortune befell the rest of you." 
 
 The good Archbishop Turpin sighed deeply, and said, 
 "We are the warriors of Heaven's kingdom. Come 
 thou on the waves, sweet Saviour, and deign to deliver 
 us from peril." 
 
 Said Sir Richard of Normandy, "Wait for me, ye 
 demons ! Long and well have I served you, and soon 
 will I be with you." 
 
 "I have given wise counsel to many," gravely re- 
 marked Duke Namon ; " but in the salt sea good words 
 of advice are as rare, and as little needed, as sweet 
 water or pleasant fruit." 
 
 Then good father Riol said, " An old warrior am I, 
 and not much longer can I live in any case. And yet I 
 would fain finish my course by leaving my old body 
 upon dry land, rather than by losing it in this watery 
 waste." 
 
 And Sir Guy, the courteous chevalier, sought to con- 
 ceal his terror by singing, 
 
 " I would I were a little bird! 
 Quickly to my nest I'd fly." 
 
 Then Garin, the lover of good cheer, said, "May 
 Heaven save us from pain ! Pleasanter by far would it 
 be to drink a single cup of red wine than to treat one's 
 self to all the water in the sea." 
 
 And Sir Lambert, the witty, responded, " Be sure we
 
 How the Peers returned to France. 363 
 
 shall not be forgotten ! Yet happier would I be to eat 
 one good fish, however small, than to be devoured by 
 that same fish," 
 
 " For me," said Duke Godfrey, the noble, " I accept 
 my lot. Happy am I in knowing that I shall fare no 
 worse than those who are better than I." 
 
 All this time King Charlemagne stood at the helm. 
 He spoke not a word ; but he guided the vessel with a 
 strong hand, until at length the fury of the waves was 
 exhausted. And, behold ! the shores of their own loved 
 France lay before the sea-tossed warriors, fragrant with 
 the odor of blossoms and of the ripe summer fruit 1 
 
 As the king and his knights rode homeward between 
 the vineyards and the rich fields with which the peaceful 
 country was now everywhere covered, the people greeted 
 them with glad shouts and heartfelt blessings. And as 
 they drew near the city of Paris, the fair home from 
 which they had been absent so long, a noble company 
 of knights and ladies came out to welcome them ; 
 and together they entered the city gates. The streets 
 were strewn with garlands and green leaves and fra- 
 grant roses ; from every tower and every housetop, gay 
 banners floated in the breeze; young maidens walked 
 before them, singing triumphal songs; and all the peo- 
 ple shouted for joy. At every turn of the street gor- 
 geous arches had been built, where were displayed the 
 trophies taken in war, and many an inscription relating 
 
 * See Note 17 at the end of this i
 
 364 The Story of Roland. 
 
 to the deeds of the returning heroes. And the whole 
 city was given up to merry-making. And many a tour- 
 ney was held, and many a mask and ball. And, for a 
 long time thereafter, nothing was heard or talked about 
 in Paris, save music and mirth, and brave feats of arms, 
 and the happy restoration and return of Roland.
 
 How Charlemagne fought against Qgier. 365 
 
 ADVENTURE XXXI. 
 
 HOW CHARLEMAGNE FOUGHT AGAINST 
 OGIER. 
 
 SHALL I tell you of the sad war which Charlemagne 
 waged for so long a time against one of the noblest of 
 his vassals ? Sorrowful, indeed, were those days, and 
 much shame did the peers suffer on account of the 
 proud-faced king. 
 
 Ogier the Dane had married Belicene, the daughter 
 of the Lord of St. Omer; and he had one son named 
 Baldwinet. Tall and comely grew the lad, and proud 
 of look ; and Ogier loved him more than all things else. 
 One day the king's son Chariot played at chess with 
 Baldwinet ; and, much to the surprise of the prince, the 
 young lad checkmated him. Very furious grew Chariot. 
 He seized the golden chess-board, and struck Baldwinet 
 sc fiercely, that he stretched him dead on the marble 
 floor. When Ogier heard of the bloody deed, he has- 
 tened to the hall where his son still lay, he lifted the 
 cold and bloody body in his arms, and kissed the fair 
 white face. The knights who stood around, sorrowful 
 and horror-stricken, wept at the sight. Then Ogier
 
 366 The Story of Roland. 
 
 sprang angrily to his feet again : he seized a huge club, 
 and sought Chariot from chamber to chamber to kill 
 him. But Charlemagne, too blind to the faults of his 
 wicked and foolish son, had hidden him in a secret 
 closet. Ogier sought the king, and asked that due 
 punishment should be meted out to the black-hearted 
 prince. But the king mocked him, and banished him 
 from the court. 
 
 " Take thyself hence," said he angrily ; " and, if to- 
 morrow's sun sees thee in France, thou shalt find thyself 
 in the darkest dungeon in our kingdom." 
 
 Ogier, despairing of justice, and filled with sorrow 
 and rage, mounted his good steed Broiefort, and rode 
 away from the king's court. He went straight to his 
 castle of Garlandon, a fief which he held of the king 
 in Southern France. But, when Charlemagne heard 
 that the bereaved and sorrow-stricken knight was still 
 within his domains, he called his host together, and laid 
 siege to Garlandon. Then Ogier, not wishing to fight 
 against the king, secretly quitted the castle, taking with 
 him neither palfrey nor sumter-horse, but only his brave 
 steed Broiefort. He crossed the snowy Alps, and came 
 at length to the city of Pavia, and presented himself be- 
 fore Didier, the King of the Lombards. 
 
 "Fair king," said he, "I am a man who has been 
 exiled, hunted, from sweet France. Charlemagne has 
 driven me out of his kingdom ; and he has left me 
 neither town nor castle, nor even so much land as I 
 could lie upon It was all because I demanded justice
 
 How Charlemagne fought against Ogier. 367 
 
 for the death of the young lad Baldwinet, whom I loved 
 so well. And now I come to you, and beg your aid ; 
 for I may have need of it. And I will serve you with 
 sword and lance so well that you shall love me." 
 
 " What is thy name ? " asked Didier. 
 
 " My name is Ogier, and men call me ' the Dane.' " 
 
 At this word Didier leaped to his feet, and right 
 warmly he welcomed the Dane. And he gave to Ogier 
 as fiefs two famous strongholds, Castle-Fort on the 
 Rhone, which had never been entered by a foe, and 
 Mount Quevrel on the Rock. 
 
 The next spring, King Charlemagne held an Easter 
 feast at Paris. Never since the days of Alexander the 
 Greek, of Lucian of Acre, or of Clovis, who was next 
 after Caesar, had a king held a feast so grand. There 
 sat at his table seventeen kings, thirty bishops, and full 
 a thousand knights. And, while they feasted, some one 
 with slight discretion spoke the name of Ogier. 
 
 "The traitor!" cried the king, striking his knife 
 upon the table. " He is the guest of Didier of Lom- 
 bardy, but he shall not long be so. Who now is there 
 among you, brave knights, who will go beyond the 
 mountains, and bid Didier send me this rebel as a cap- 
 tive ? " 
 
 Not one of the knights made answer, for those who 
 did not love Ogier feared him. Yet at last Namon the 
 Wise arose. Very old and frail was he, and his hair 
 and beard were white as snow. 
 
 " Sir king," said he, " since no younger man offers to
 
 368 The Story of Roland. 
 
 go, I will bear your message ; for it is the first duty of 
 every knight to serve his lord." 
 
 But the king would not let him go. Then Namon 
 turned to his son Bertram, who sat by his side, and 
 bade him undertake the errand. 
 
 " It is well," said the king. " Bertram shall go." 
 
 And Bertram, although very loath to do so, departed 
 at once. Had it not been for his father's wishes, he 
 would not have gone. 
 
 When the young knight reached Pavia, he went at 
 once to the king's palace. Didier was sitting at his 
 table in his feast-hall, and Ogier sat beside him. When 
 Bertram was shown into the hall, the Dane knew him 
 at once as the son of his old friend, Duke Namon. He 
 knew him by the checkered helmet which he wore, and 
 the silver eagle on either side, and the sword-hilt of 
 purest gold ; and he would have given all the treasure 
 in the world to have been elsewhere. He whispered to 
 Didier, and begged him to treat the messenger kindly, 
 and not let his ill-mannered Lombards insult the young 
 man. 
 
 Bertram then delivered his message : " If Didier does 
 not send the Dane back in chains, like a greyhound, 
 then Charlemagne will come and destroy Pavia, and 
 overrun and ruin his kingdom of Lombardy, and place 
 a better knight on the throne." 
 
 When he had spoken, Ogier arose, and answered: 
 "Didier owes no vassalry to Charlemagne, save the 
 succor of ten thousand men for sixty days, in case the
 
 How Charlemagne fought against Ogier. 369 
 
 French king makes war in Kaly. As to myself, Ogier 
 the Dane, I do not believe that Didier will fail me. If 
 Charlemagne would overrun and ruin Lombardy, let 
 him come. He shall find us not asleep." 
 
 Then Bertram answered by accusing Ogier of treason 
 to the king, and of not yet having paid the tribute 
 which his father Godfrey had owed for the fief of Den- 
 mark. Very angry grew Ogier ; and in a great passion 
 he seized a knife, and flung it at the young knight. 
 Happily, the weapon missed its mark, only cutting the 
 fringe of Bertram's hauberk. Then better thoughts 
 came to the Dane, and he remembered the kind coun- 
 sels and the generous help he had so often received 
 from Namon the gentle duke. And so he answered 
 the rash messenger mildly, as a worthy knight, as a 
 wise and well-taught man. 
 
 "For the sake of thy father, Namon the flowery- 
 bearded," said he, " the spear of Ogier shall never be 
 levelled against thee. Charlemagne has driven me from 
 sweet France : he has disherited me, and made me an 
 outlaw. And all this has been for no wickedness of my 
 own, but only because I dared open my mouth when 
 Chariot slew Baldwinet, the son whom I loved so well." 
 
 The next morning Didier called his barons together, 
 and they talked over the message which Charlemagne 
 had sent And they bade Bertram carry this word back 
 to the French king : " We have pledged our friendship 
 and aid to Ogier the Dane, and we will not deliver him 
 over to his enemies. If Charlemagne would decide this
 
 37O The Story of Roland. 
 
 matter by a trial of arms, let him meet us in May, in a 
 pitched battle under Ajossa." 
 
 When Bertram returned to France, and delivered his 
 message, Charlemagne began at once to make ready for 
 war. He called together an army of fifty thousand 
 warriors. But the peers Roland and Oliver and Rein- 
 old joined not the standard of the king: they would 
 take no part in this unrighteous war. The king's host 
 crossed the mountains, and' camped in the meadows 
 before St. Ajossa. There, as Charlemagne sat before 
 his tent, he saw a great company of folk coming down 
 the hills on his right. It was Gerard of Viana, with ten 
 thousand crossbow-men. He looked to the left, and 
 saw another ten thousand warriors coming up through 
 the meadows, their hauberks and shields flaming in the 
 sunlight, and their banners fluttering toward the sky. 
 
 "What host of strangers is this?" asked Charle- 
 magne. 
 
 " It is Baldwin of Flanders, and his far-famed Flem- 
 ish spearmen," answered Duke Namon. 
 
 The two armies were drawn up in battle-array before 
 St. Ajossa. Terrible was the shock with which they 
 met in combat ; fierce and long was the fight. At 
 length, however, the Lombards were beaten, and King 
 Didier sought safety in flight. Everywhere the French 
 were victorious ; for they were the braver knights, and 
 better trained. Ogier, on the back of his faithful 
 Broiefort, fled from the lost field with fifteen thousand 
 foes close following behind him. But the gcod horse
 
 How Charlemagne fought against Ogier. 371 
 
 distanced his pursuers, and carried his master safely 
 out of danger. The hunted Dane hastened now to 
 reach the shelter of his own stronghold, Castle-Fort 
 on the Rhone, which Didier the Lombard had given 
 him. 
 
 One day, overcome by fatigue and long wakefulness, 
 he stopped in a mountain glen, and lay down behind a 
 huge rock to rest. He lifted the helmet from his head, 
 and placed it on the grass beside him ; and such was 
 his weariness, that, ere he was aware, he had fallen 
 asleep. While he slept, a company of Frenchmen 
 came up with him, and, had it not been for Broiefort, 
 he would have fared but ill at their hands. The good 
 horse, seeing that danger was near, neighed loudly, and 
 struck the ground with his hoofs ; but Ogier still slept. 
 Then the noble beast seized his master by the collar of 
 his hauberk, and shook him until he awoke. The Dane 
 had barely time to mount the faithful steed, and gallop 
 out of the glen. That afternoon, as he hurried onward, 
 closely followed by his foes, he came to a little castle, 
 standing in the edge of the wood by the side of a wide 
 morass. There was no town nor any farm-lands near ; 
 and the place, even if not deserted, seemed very poorly 
 guarded. The gate was wide open ; and, as no sentinel 
 or warder was there to challenge or prevent him, Ogier 
 rode boldly in. The courtyard was empty ; and neither 
 lord nor servitor could be seen, although the Dane 
 thought he heard loud voices, and sounds of life, in the 
 low-built halls. He had no time, however, for cere-
 
 372 The Story of Roland. 
 
 mony ; for his pursuers were already in sight. He 
 quickly dismounted, and drew up the bridge, and shut 
 and barred the gates behind him. Then, without hesi- 
 tation, he went into the dining-hall, where he found the 
 owner of the castle and all his family sitting at the 
 table. 
 
 "Kind sir," said he to the man, "I am a knight, who, 
 for no fault of my own, am banished from my own coun- 
 try, and hunted from place to place like a felon. If 
 thou wilt give me shelter, I will richly repay thee." 
 
 But the man rose up in a furious passion, and tried 
 to drive Ogier from the hall. 
 
 "If thou art so lacking in courtesy as to thrust a 
 stranger thus rudely from thy house," said the Dane, 
 "thou must not complain if I take forcible possession 
 of all that thou hast." And he drew his sword, and 
 drove the man and his family out through the postern- 
 gate, which he closed and bolted behind them. Then 
 he searched every part of the castle, from the deep 
 cellars to the highest tower, to see whether the place 
 were well victualled. And he found great plenty of salt 
 meat, and bread and wine, and dainties of every sort. 
 The table was loaded with rich food, cakes, and red 
 wine, and cranes, and geese, and every kind of wild 
 game. There were provisions enough for a smaH 
 garrison. 
 
 Not long was it until Charlemagne, with ten thou- 
 sand warriors, came up, and laid siege to the castle. 
 He pitched his tent right before the gate, and placed
 
 How Charlemagne fought against Ogier. 373 
 
 armed men on every side, a thousand squires, a thou- 
 sand spearmen, a thousand crossbow-men. The walls 
 were not very high ; but the ditch was wide and deep, 
 and there seemed no way of crossing. At length, by 
 the king's orders, the besiegers cut down the willows of 
 the marsh, and the brushwood in the forest, and threw 
 them into the moat to fill it up. And ten great ladders 
 were placed against the walls. But Ogier defended 
 himself right manfully, and kept his enemies at bay 
 until nightfall, when they returned to their tents, vow- 
 ing that he should not escape them on the morrow. It 
 was a fearful night. The rain fell in torrents, the light- 
 nings flashed, the thunder rolled, and there was such a 
 tempest as has seldom been known. But Charlemagne 
 set two thousand men on guard, and watchfires were 
 built for seven leagues around. 
 
 Ogier's heart sank within him. " Never in my life," 
 said he to himself, " have I done good to any one who 
 did not in the end seek my destruction." He did not 
 think of the great-hearted Roland, who all this time 
 held himself aloof from the king. 
 
 When the earliest dawn of that long night began to 
 appear, the Dane went to the stables to find Broiefort. 
 The noble creature knew his master ; he neighed softly, 
 and scratched his foot for joy. 
 
 "Horse," said Ogier lovingly, "there was never a 
 steed so good, so proud, in every way so worthy, as 
 thou. Thou hast done me good service in many a 
 quest : canst thou help me once more ? In all the
 
 374 The Story of Roland. 
 
 world there is not one man who holds me dear ; and, if 
 thou shouldst fail me, I would be undone." 
 
 The good horse raised his head as if he understood 
 his master : he neighed again, and struck uneasily with 
 his foot. The knight put on the saddle, and threw the 
 golden reins upon the proud charger's neck; and, just 
 as the cocks were crowing, he opened the castle-gate 
 and looked out. All was quiet in Charlemagne's camp, 
 and the watchers seemed to be asleep. Softly did 
 Ogier let down the bridge ; he vaulted into the saddle ; 
 he breathed a short prayer to Heaven, and dashed 
 boldly away. The camp was aroused : the men rushed 
 to arms. Many of them saw Ogier galloping away ; but 
 they pitied his plight, and would not harm him. Oth- 
 ers, who were his kinsmen, or who had fought by his 
 side in many a hard-won fray, secretly blessed him as 
 he passed. And, ere Charlemagne could rally his 
 squires and crossbow-men, the gallant Dane was well 
 on his way to Castle-Fort. 
 
 Right hearty was the welcome which Ogier received 
 when he rode into his own castle. And the three hun- 
 dred warriors who were there at once made every thing 
 ready for a siege. On one side of Castle-Fort there 
 was a marsh so soft and deep, that no man could ride 
 across it; and on the other was the swift-running 
 Rhone, washing the foot of the tower. Within the 
 walls there was a spring, and a little brook so wide and 
 so deep, that dames and damsels, burgesses and knights, 
 might bathe in it ; and ere it poured its waters into the
 
 How Charlemagne fought against Ogier. 375 
 
 river, it turned three mills, which stopped not the whole 
 year round. 
 
 Soon Charlemagne's army arrived, and kid close 
 siege to Castle-Fort. And the king summoned Malrin, 
 the engineer, and promised him a thousand marks of 
 gold, and twenty war-steeds, if he would batter down 
 the stronghold. And forthwith Malrin called together 
 three hundred and eighteen skilled carpenters, and 
 more than four thousand workmen ; and they built 
 before the gate an engine seven stories high, whereon 
 a thousand one hundred and seventy bowmen could 
 stand. And day and night they shot great bolts of 
 steel, and iron-shod arrows, into the fort ; while Malrin, 
 from the uppermost story, threw Greek fire upon the 
 roofs of the houses, and kindled flames such that 
 neither water nor wine, but only cold earth and soft 
 clay, could quench. 
 
 Ogier and his men were at length driven into the 
 tower, and they stabled their horses in the deep dun- 
 geons underneath. But still the bolts and arrows and 
 stones, and the dreadful Greek fire, poured down upon 
 them. The tower was of stone, cemented with mortar 
 mixed with dragon's blood ; and no missile nor storm of 
 fire could harm it. Yet one by one the valiant defend- 
 ers were picked off by Malrin's sharp-sighted bowmen, 
 until at length Ogier was left all alone. He was now 
 without squire or page or serving-man. He must 
 needs grind his own corn, draw water from his own 
 well, heat it on the fire which he himself had kindled,
 
 376 The Story of Roland. 
 
 sift his own flour, knead the dough, heat the oven, bake 
 his own bread. He was his own cook, his own butler, 
 his own groom. Yet he knew full well, that one man 
 never held a castle long against his foes. 
 
 What Ogier next did, says the poet who told this 
 tale, no other man ever did. He cut down the small 
 oaks and the branchy trees which grew in the court- 
 yard, and shaped them into wooden men ; he dressed 
 them with hauberks and helmets, and girded swords 
 upon them, and hung shields on their necks, and put 
 battle-axes in their hands ; and then he fixed them on 
 the battlements, so that the French would think that 
 the fort was still well garrisoned. 1 Charlemagne was 
 amazed. He wondered how so many men could subsist 
 in the tower, and how they could live amid the storm 
 of iron and fire which was hurled down upon them. He 
 began to think that some unseen power was fighting 
 for Ogier. 
 
 But ere long the gallant Dane became sorely pressed 
 with famine. His face grew pale with fasting: he 
 wasted away until he looked like a giant skeleton. In 
 his extremity he again mounted his good Broiefort, and 
 early one morning dashed recklessly out of the gate. 
 A thousand base-minded squires pursued him; but 
 Broiefort swam the rapid River Cercle, and left them 
 far behind. When Charlemagne learned that Ogier had 
 again escaped him, he was very angry. He warned the 
 knights who were with him, that they should on no 
 
 > See Note 18 at the end of this rolome.
 
 OGIER'S GARRISON.
 
 How Charlemagne fought against Ogier. 377 
 
 account favor the rebellious Dane, on pain of being 
 punished as traitors. And then he returned with his 
 host to Paris. 
 
 Meanwhile, Ogier hastened on his way toward Den- 
 mark, for there he felt that he would find friends. One 
 day he stopped by the roadside to rest ; and, feeling 
 weary and worn out, he ungirt his sword Short, and lay 
 down beneath a tree to sleep. While he slept, it so 
 happened that Archbishop Turpin, with a following of 
 knights and squires, passed that way. They saw the 
 warrior lying in peaceful slumber upon the grass, and 
 they remarked the nobleness of his horse and the 
 beauty of his armor. And, when they drew nearer, all 
 knew that it was Ogier. The good archbishop was 
 sorely troubled. He would fain not harm his brother-in- 
 arms ; yet, if he did not take him prisoner, Charlemagne 
 would drive him from the kingdom. So, after much 
 ado, they took Ogier's horse and sword, and over- 
 powered and bound the Dane himself. 
 
 " My once kind friend," said Ogier to the archbishop, 
 " thou doest me too great an injury. If thou wouldst 
 befriend me, kill me at once, rather than give me up to 
 the king." 
 
 But Turpin bade him be of good cheer. He assured 
 him that he would take him to Reims, and put him in 
 his own dungeon, and see that no harm came to him. 
 
 When Charlemagne heard that the Dane had been 
 taken at last, and that he was in prison at Reims, he 
 was very glad, and he began making ready to have him
 
 378 The Story of Roland. 
 
 hanged like a common thief. But Archbishop Turpin 
 came before him with a retinue of knights, bishops, and 
 abbots, and begged that he would spare the life of the 
 unhappy Dane. And Gerard of Rousillon and full 
 sixty dukes and barons joined them in this petition, 
 and threatened, that, if Charlemagne slew Ogier, they 
 would declare war against him. And Turpin promised, 
 that, in case the knight's life were spared, he would 
 keep him in his own dungeon, where he should never 
 see his hands or his feet, and where he should have for 
 his daily allowance not more than a quartern of bread, 
 and one cup of water and wine mixed. 
 
 " Only give him his life," said the archbishop, " and 
 he shall never cause you trouble again." 
 
 At last the king relented, and good Turpin returned 
 in great joy to Reims. He had a silver cup made, 
 which held a whole gallon of wine; and a bushel of 
 flour he made into two loaves, so that seven knights 
 could not eat a quartern. And Ogier fared most royally 
 in the archbishop's dungeon, for he wanted neither 
 comfort nor amusement. Yet he was often sad and 
 downhearted, and he grieved greatly for his friends. 
 Anl in his loneliness, shut out from the sunlight, and 
 the companionship of those whom he loved, his long 
 hair and beard became white as the snow. 
 
 But by and by there came a change in Ogier's for- 
 tunes. France was being threatened with invasion by 
 Brehus, a Saracen chief of great valor and distinction ; 
 and Charlemagne had marshalled his host, and was mak-
 
 How Charlemagne fought against Ogier. 379 
 
 ing ready to repel the invaders. The French were 
 waiting the king's orders to march ; and all the peers, 
 save Ogier, were in their places. Then Turpin went 
 into the presence of the king, and said, 
 
 " My lord, we can scarcely expect Heaven's blessing 
 to rest on this enterprise while one of the peers is 
 absent. There are twelve of us, but here are only 
 eleven." 
 
 At the same time three hundred squires, all sons of 
 the noblest men in the kingdom, began to cry out, 
 " Ogier ! Ogier ! " And Duke Namon boldly advised 
 the king to pardon the good Dane, and set him free. 
 
 " But he is dead," said the king. 
 
 " Not so," answered Namon. " He is alive and well, 
 in the archbishop's dungeon." 
 
 "If that is true," said the king, "thou shalt take him 
 out, and we will make him all due amends." 
 
 When word was brought to Ogier, that the king was 
 willing to pardon him in order that he might lead his 
 fighting-men against the Saracens, he seemed but little 
 gladdened by the news. 
 
 " Never," said he, "will I don breastplate or shield, 
 or lift the lance, until Chariot, who slew my gentle son, 
 shall be given over into my hands." 
 
 Charlemagne was in distress. He knew, that, unless 
 Ogier were with them, the peers would not advance 
 against the Saracen, but would rather defy his authority. 
 And yet his love for the foolish Chariot was as great as 
 ever. At last, however, by Duke Namon's advice, he
 
 380 The Story of Roland. 
 
 yielded, and sent word to Ogier that he should do with 
 Chariot as he wished. The Dane was brought out of 
 his prison, and dressed in his own armor, which the 
 good archbishop had carefully kept for him. He was 
 tall and straight, and his look was proud as that of a 
 lion. When he had donned his arms, he looked anx- 
 iously around him. 
 
 "Where, now, is my horse Broiefort," asked he, "the 
 good friend who stood by me when all others failed ? " 
 
 The archbishop could not tell; but a monk who 
 stood near remembered having seen the steed drawing 
 a heavy cartload of stones at Meaux. "When Ogier 
 was thrown into prison," said he, " the abbot of Meaux 
 took charge of his horse. The old man was very proud 
 of his steed, and very impatient to try him ; and so, 
 when he was ready to leave Reims, he mounted him, 
 intending to ride home on his back. But the horse, 
 who had been used to the giant weight of Ogier and his 
 armor, hardly knew that any one was on his back, so 
 small and light is the good abbot. He started off at a 
 great speed, running up hill and down at a rate which 
 frightened the abbot almost out of his senses ; and, as 
 he passed the convent of Jouaire, he threw the good 
 man off, right before the eyes of the abbess and her 
 nuns. This accident so angered and mortified the 
 abbot, that he fcdpajppt the horse hard at work ever 
 since, hauling stones for the new chapel which he is 
 building." 
 
 Messengers were at once sent to Meaux, who re-
 
 How Charlemagne fought against Ogier. 381 
 
 turned soon after with the horse. But he was not the 
 noble-looking steed that he had once been. He was 
 thin and poor ; and his sides had been galled by the 
 shafts ; and his eyes had no longer any look of human 
 ir.telligence about them. Yet he remembered his old 
 master : he whinnied softly, and struck the ground with 
 his hoofs and then lay down before him for very hum- 
 bleness. Ogier rubbed the horse's bare flanks with his 
 rich embroidered cloak, and wept as if his heart would 
 burst. And the squires covered the steed with rich 
 trappings of cloth-of-gold and of ermine ; and they put 
 a golden bit in his mouth, and reins of silk upon his 
 neck. And the whole company departed for Laon, 
 where the king awaited them. 
 
 When Ogier came into the presence of Charlemagne, 
 he asked that the king should fulfil his promise by giv- 
 ing up Chariot for punishment. But the father's heart 
 of Charlemagne made him hesitate. Then Turpin and 
 Duke Namon, and all the peers, besought the king to 
 yield, not only for his own honor's sake, but for the 
 sake of the people and of Christendom. And so he 
 sent for Chariot to come and deliver himself up to 
 Ogier. Trembling with fear, the wicked young prince 
 obeyed. He cast himself with crossed hands upon the 
 ground, and with bitter tears he besought Ogier's par- 
 don. Duke Namon, too, and the other peers, begged 
 Ogier to be merciful. But the Dane bade them hold 
 their peace. He drew from its scabbard, the rich-lettered 
 brand Short, and flourished it angrily about Chariot's
 
 382 The Story of Roland. 
 
 head. The king, in great horror and distress, fled to 
 the chapel, and knelt with covered head before the altar. 
 Then Ogier gently lifted Chariot from the ground, and 
 pardoned him for the great wrong which he had done 
 him, and bade him go in peace. And after this, he 
 went into the chapel, where the king still knelt ; and 
 the two embraced each other in the presence of the 
 host, and mutually forgave each other, and pledged 
 anew their faith, and a lifelong friendship.
 
 The Vale of Thorns. 383 
 
 ADVENTURE XXXIL 
 
 THE VALE OF THORNS. 
 
 SEVEN years passed. In all the world there was not 
 such another king as Charlemagne. Wherever his arms 
 were carried, there victory followed ; and neither Pagan 
 nor haughty Christian foe dared lift up hands any more 
 against him. His kingdom stretched from the Baltic 
 Sea to the Italian shores, and from beyond the Rhine to 
 the great Western Ocean. Princes were his servants ; 
 kings were his vassals ; and even the Pope of Rome did 
 him homage. And now he had crossed the Pyrenees, 
 and was carrying fire and sword into the fair fields and 
 rich towns of the Spanish Moors ; for he had vowed to 
 punish Marsilius, king of Spain, for the injuries he had 
 done the French in former years. And he had overrun 
 the whole of that haughty land, and had left neither 
 castle, nor city, nor wall, unbroken, save only the town 
 of Saragossa. 
 
 One day Charlemagne sat beneath the blossoming 
 trees of an orchard near Cordova. White was his 
 beard, and flowered was his head ; yet still handsome 
 was his body, and proud his form. Around him were
 
 384 The Story of Roland. 
 
 the noblest of his knights, Roland and Oliver and old 
 Duke Namon, and fifteen thousand of the choicest men 
 of France. It was a gala-day for the French, and the 
 warriors amused themselves with field-sports, and many 
 pleasant games. Then a party of Moorish messengers 
 were brought before the king. They came from Mar- 
 silius at Saragossa, who had sent to beg peace of Charle- 
 magne. 
 
 "What will Marsilius give for peace?" asked the 
 king. 
 
 " If you will go back to your own country, and cease 
 this unhappy war," answered they, "then Marsilius 
 binds himself to do this: he will go to Aix at Mich- 
 aelmas, and be baptized; he will do homage then for 
 Spain, and will faithfully hold it in fief from you ; he 
 will give you great store of treasures, four hundred 
 mules loaded with gold, and fifty cartloads of silver, 
 besides numbers of bears and lions and tame grey- 
 hounds, and seven hundred camels, and a thousand 
 moulted falcons. Too long has this cruel war been 
 waging. Marsilius would fain have peace." 
 
 Charlemagne listened to the words of the messen- 
 gers, but he was not quick to answer. He called to- 
 gether his peers, and laid the matter before them. 
 
 "What think you of the Moor's offers of peace?" 
 asked he. 
 
 " Put no trust in Marsilius ! " cried Roland. " He is 
 the most faithless of Pagans, and speaks only lies. 
 Carry on the war as you have begun, and talk not of 
 peace until Saragossa is ours."
 
 Tlu Vale of Thorns. 385 
 
 Charlemagne's face grew dark, yet he said not a word. 
 It was plain that he coveted the treasures which Mar- 
 silius had promised. Then Ganelon arose, and with 
 curling lip, thus answered, 
 
 " If Marsilius offers to do fealty for Spain, and to 
 hold it as a gift from you, wherefore should we refuse 
 his plea? He who would advise you otherwise cares 
 not what manner of death we die." 
 
 And Namon of Bavaria added, " If the Moor is 
 beaten, and cries for mercy, it would be an unknightly 
 act to continue warring against him. My voice is for 
 peace." 
 
 And all the peers, save Roland and Oliver, cried out, 
 " The duke hath spoken wisely. Let us have peace ! " 
 
 "It is well," answered Charlemagne; "and so it shall 
 be. But whom shall we send to Saragossa to treat 
 with Marsilius, and to receive the pledges of good faith 
 which he shall give ? " 
 
 Then arose a great dispute among the peers as to 
 which should undertake this .dangerous errand. Duke 
 Namon, who was never known to shirk a duty, offered 
 to go ; but the king would not consent. He liked not 
 to part with his wise old friend, even for a single day. 
 
 " I will carry the message," said Roland. 
 
 "Not so, my brother," interrupted Oliver. "Thy 
 pride will get the better of thy judgment, and thou wilt 
 act rashly. Let me undertake the errand." 
 
 But Charlemagne refused them both. "Neither of 
 you shall go," said he. " But you may choose one from 
 among these other barons to be the messenger."
 
 j86 The Story of Roland. 
 
 "Then send Ganelon of Mayence," said Roland 
 M He is in favor of this peace, and he is most fit to 
 carry the message." 
 
 "Yes, send Ganelon of Mayence 1" cried all the 
 peers. 
 
 Ganelon rose from his seat in rage. Fire flashed 
 from his hazel eyes ; his lips quivered ; he tore the sable 
 border from his crimson tunic, and stood proudly before 
 Roland. "Fool!" cried he. "Who art thou who 
 wouldst send me to Marsilius ? If I but live to come 
 again from Saragossa, I will deal thee such a blow as 
 thou shalt never forget." 
 
 " Speak softly, Sir Ganelon," said Roland. " Men 
 know that I care not for threats. If thou art afraid of 
 the danger, mayhap the king will allow me to go in thy 
 place." 
 
 Hotter than before was Ganelon's wrath ; but he 
 held his tongue, and turned humbly toward the king. 
 
 " My lord," said he, " since you will that I bear this 
 message to Marsilius, I go. But I know too well the 
 false-hearted Moor to hope that I shall ever return. I 
 pray you, care for my fair son Baldwin, to whom I leave 
 my lands and all my fiefs. Keep him wel', for these 
 eyes of mine shall never see him again." 
 
 " Thou art too fearful, and too tender of heart," said 
 the king, as he offered to Ganelon the staff and the 
 glove which messengers were wont to carry as signs of 
 their office. "Go now, and doubt not the issue of thine 
 errand."
 
 The Vale of Thorns. 387 
 
 Ganelon took the staff ; but his hand trembled, and 
 the glove fell to the ground. 
 
 "An evil omen is that," whispered the peers who 
 saw it. " It is a sign of no good fortune, either to him 
 or to us." 
 
 Then Ganelon bade the king good-by, and went on 
 his way. But he said to himself, "This is Roland's 
 doings, and I shall hate him all my life long : neither 
 shall I love Oliver his brother, nor any other of the 
 twelve peers." 
 
 When he reached Saragossa, Ganelon was led into 
 the presence of Marsilius. The Moorish king sat under 
 a pine-tree, and twenty thousand warriors stood around 
 him. 
 
 "What answer bring you from your liege-lord Charle- 
 magne ? " asked he. 
 
 Ganelon had studied well what he should say ; and he 
 answered, like one long used to cunning guile, " If thou 
 wilt be baptized, and become a Christian, Charlemagne 
 will give thee the half of Spain to hold in fief. If thou 
 wilt not accept this offer, then he will besiege thee in 
 Saragossa, and take thee prisoner; and he will send 
 thee bound upon the back of a sumter-horse to Aix, and 
 there he will have thee put to death. This is the mes- 
 sage which Charlemagne sends thee." 
 
 Great was the mger of the Moorish king, and he 
 raised his javelin to strike the messenger dead. But 
 Ganelon, no whit daunted, set his back against the 
 trunk of a tree, and drew his sword part way from its 
 scabbard.
 
 388 The Story of Roland. 
 
 "Good sword," said he, "thou art fair and bright, 
 and thou hast done me many a service. Never shall it 
 be said that Ganelon died alone in a strange land." 
 
 But the courtiers of King Marsilius stepped in be- 
 tween them. "It were better," said they, "to treat 
 with this man than to slay him. If his face slander 
 him not, he is a man who may be persuaded to help us. 
 Try him." 
 
 Then Marsilius called Ganelon to his side, and offered 
 him five hundred pounds of gold for his friendship. 
 And the two sat long together, and plotted bloodshed 
 and treason. 
 
 " Indeed, what think you of this Charlemagne ? " 
 asked the Moor. "Through how many lands has he 
 carried that old body of his? How many scars are 
 there on his shield ? How many kingdoms has he 
 stolen, and how many kings impoverished ? Methinks 
 that his days are well-nigh spent. He must be more 
 than two hundred years old." 
 
 But Ganelon, although a traitor, would say naught 
 against the king. "None can see him," said he, "but 
 will say that he is a man. None can so praise or honor 
 him, but that there shall yet be in him more worth and 
 goodness." 
 
 "Yet, methinks," said the Moor, "that he is very old. 
 His beard is white ; his hair is flowered. It is strange 
 that he grows not tired of fighting." 
 
 " That he will never do so long as Roland, his neph- 
 ew, lives," answered Ganelon. " There, too, is Oliver ;
 
 The Vale of Thorns. 389 
 
 and there are the other peers of the realm, all of whom 
 the king holds most dear. They alone are worth 
 twenty thousand men." 
 
 "I have heard much of Roland," said the Moor; "and 
 I would fain put him out of the way. Tell me how it 
 can be done, and thou shalt have three baggage horse- 
 loads of gold, three of silver, and three of fine silk and 
 red wine and jewels." 
 
 Now Ganelon desired, above all things, the death of; 
 Roland ; and he eagerly made known his plans to Mar- 
 silius. 
 
 "Send to Charlemagne," said he, "great store of rich 
 gifts, so that every Frenchman shall wonder at your 
 wealth. Send also hostages, and promise him that on 
 next Michaelmas you will be baptized at Aix, and do 
 him homage for Spain. Pleased with your promises, 
 he will return to sweet France. But his rear-guard, 
 with Roland and Oliver, and twenty thousand French- 
 men, will be long among the passes of the Pyrenees. 
 A hundred thousand Moors could well cope with them 
 there." 
 
 Then the two traitors exchanged promises and 
 pledges ; and Ganelon, taking with him the keys of 
 Saragossa, and rich presents for Charlemagne, went 
 back to Cordova. 
 
 Right glad was Charlemagne to hear the message 
 which the lying traitor brought. He was tired of war- 
 ring, and he longed to return in peace to his own sweet 
 France. The next day the trumpets sounded through-
 
 390 The Story of Roland. 
 
 out the camp. The tents were struck ; the baggage was 
 packed on the sumter-horses ; the knights mounted 
 their steeds ; banners and pennons waved thick in the 
 air; the great army began its glad march homeward. 
 Joyful was the beginning of that march; but, ah, how 
 sad the ending! The French did not see the crafty 
 Moors following them through the upper valleys, their 
 banners furled, their helmets closed, their lances in rest. 
 
 That first night the king was troubled with sad 
 dreams. He thought that Ganelon seized his lance, 
 and shook it, and that it fell in pieces. He thought 
 that he hunted in the forest of Ardennes, and that both 
 a boar and a leopard attacked him. A thousand fearful 
 fancies vexed him. Mountains fell upon him, and 
 crushed him ; the earth yawned, and swallowed him ; 
 perils beset him on every side : but amid them all, the 
 face of Ganelon was ever to be seen. 
 
 By and by the army came to the Pyrenees, and the 
 great land of France lay just beyond the mountains. 
 
 " To whom now," said the king to his peers, " shall 
 we intrust our rear-guard while we pass safely through 
 the mountain gates ? " 
 
 "Give it to Roland, your nephew," said Ganelon. 
 " There is none more worthy than he." 
 
 " And who shall lead the vanguard ? " 
 
 " Ogier, the Dane. Next to Roland, he is the bravest 
 of your barons." 
 
 Right willingly did Roland accept the dangerous 
 trust
 
 The Vale of Thorns. 391 
 
 " I will see to it," said he, " that no harm come to 
 the French while passing through the gates. Neither 
 pack-horse, nor mule, nor palfrey, nor charger, nor man 
 shall we lose, that shall not be paid for by the blood of 
 our foes." 
 
 Then he mounted his steed, and rode back to the 
 rear. And with him went Oliver and Gerin and Gerer 
 and Josse and Berenger and Jastor and Anseis, and 
 Duke Gaifer, and proud Gerard of Rousillon, and Tur- 
 pin the archbishop, and twenty thousand valiant fight- 
 ing-men. 
 
 High were the mountains, and gloomy the valleys; 
 dark were the rocks ; and fearful were the glens. But 
 the day was fair, and the sky was clear ; and the bright 
 shields of the warriors glittered in the sunlight like 
 flashes of fire. All at once a sound, as of a thousand 
 trumpets blowing, was heard in the valley below them. 
 The French knights hearkened. 
 
 " Comrades," said Oliver, " methinks that we are fol- 
 lowed by the Moors." 
 
 " And may God grant us battle and victory ! " said 
 Roland earnestly. "Well is it that we are here to 
 defend the king. For one should never murmur that 
 he suffers distress for his friends : for them, he should 
 lose, if need be, both blood and flesh, and even life it- 
 self." 
 
 Then Oliver climbed a high pine-tree, and looked 
 down into the grassy valley behind them. There he 
 beheld such troops of Pagan-folk as he had never seen 
 before.
 
 392 The Story of Roland. 
 
 " Comrades," cried he, " we shall have such a battle 
 as no man has known. The passes are full of armei 
 Moors: their hauberks and glittering helmets fill the 
 lower valleys. Great mischief is in store for us, but 
 may we stand to the field like men ! " 
 
 " Shame be to him that flees ! " said the warriors who 
 heard him. 
 
 Bewildered and amazed at sight of so terrible an 
 array of Pagans, Oliver descended from the tree. 
 
 "Brother Roland," said he, "I pray thee blow thy 
 horn. The king will hear it, and he will turn him 
 about, and come to our succor." 
 
 " To do so, would be to act as a craven," answered 
 Roland. " Never shall it be said that I feared a foe. I 
 will strike strong strokes with Durandal. Ill shall it 
 fare with the Pagan traitors." 
 
 "Comrade Roland," again said Oliver, "now blow 
 thy horn. Charlemagne will hear it, and he will make 
 his host return." 
 
 " Never," answered Roland, " shall my kinsmen up- 
 braid me, or be blamed by me. But I will strike with 
 Durandal. The brand which the king gave me when 
 he knighted me, that shall be our succor." 
 
 Then Oliver prayed him the third time, "Comrade 
 Roland, sound now thine ivory horn. Charlemagne, 
 who is passing the gates, will hear us, and come to our 
 aid." 
 
 " No man shall ever say," answered Roland, " that I 
 have blown my horn for Pagans. My kinsmen shall
 
 The Vale of Thorns. 393 
 
 not bear that reproach. But when the great battle is 
 /'joined, then you shall see the lightning flashes of Du- 
 randal in the thickest of the fight. A thousand and 
 seven hundred times shall the blade be dyed in the 
 blood of the Moors. Better would it be to perish than 
 suffer shame." 
 
 But Oliver was not yet satisfied. " I have seen the 
 Moorish host," said he. "The mountains and the 
 plains, the valleys and the groves, are full of them. 
 Never have we fought against such great odds." 
 
 "Friend and brother," answered Roland, "say not 
 another word. The king has left us here, with a rear- 
 guard of twenty thousand men, and he esteems every 
 one of us a hero. Do thou strike with thy lance and 
 thy good blade Haultclear. As for me, Durandal shall 
 serve me well. And, if I die, men shall say, 'This 
 sword belonged to a noble knight.' " 
 
 Then the good Archbishop Turpin rode down the 
 ranks, holding a sword in one hand and a crucifix in 
 the other. "Comrades," cried he, "the king has left 
 us here. He trusts in us, and for him we shall die. 
 Cry now your sins to Heaven. Pray God's mercy, and 
 ask his blessing." 
 
 In a moment every knight among those twenty 
 thousand horsemen had dismounted. Humbly and rev- 
 erently every knee was bent, and every head was bowed. 
 And the good archbishop blessed the company in God's 
 name. 
 
 "If ye die," said he, "ye shall have places in para- 
 dise."
 
 394 The Story of Roland. 
 
 Then the warriors arose, light-hearted and hopeful 
 They rode into the place which is called Roncevaux, 
 the Vale of Thorns, and there they put themselves in 
 battle-array, and waited the onset of their foes. Ro- 
 land sat astride of his good war-steed, and proudly 
 faced the Moorish host. In his hand he held the bared 
 blade Durandal, pointing toward heaven. Never was 
 seen a more comely knight. Courteously he spoke to 
 the warriors about him. Then, putting spurs to his 
 steed, he cried, 
 
 " Comrades, ride onward ! The day shall be ours ! " 
 
 "Forget not the war-cry of Charlemagne," said 
 Oliver. 
 
 At these words the rocks and valleys rang with the 
 cry, "Monjoie! Monjoie!" 1 And every warrior dashed 
 forward to meet the foe. 
 
 Long and fierce was the fight, and terrible was the 
 slaughter. With heart and strength the French knights 
 struck. The Moors were slain by hundreds and by 
 thousands. For a time victory seemed to be with the 
 French. Many and valiant were the deeds achieved 
 by Roland and Oliver, and the archbishop, and the peers 
 that were with them. But at length Marsilius came 
 down upon them with a fresh troop of seven thousand 
 Moors. They hemmed the French heroes in on every 
 side. Roland saw his knights falling one by one 
 around him. All were slain save sixty men. 
 
 "Oliver, my fair dear comrade," said he, "behold 
 
 1 SM Note 19 at the end of this volume.
 
 The Vale of Thorns. 395 
 
 how many brave vassals have fallen ! The battle goes 
 hard with us. If, now, we only knew how to send news 
 to Charlemagne, he would return and succor us." 
 
 "It is too late," answered Oliver. "Better would 
 we die than suffer shame." 
 
 Then said Roland, " I will sound my ivory horn. 
 Mayhap Charlemagne, who is passing the gates of 
 Spain, will hear it, and return." 
 
 "Do no such thing," answered Oliver. "Great 
 shame would be upon you and your kinsmen forever. 
 You would not blow your horn when I advised it, and 
 now you shall not do so because the day is lost." 
 
 Then the archbishop rode up, and said, "The day is 
 indeed lost, and to blow the horn would now no more 
 avail us. But, should the king hear it, he will come 
 back through the passes. He will find us dead: his 
 men will lift us in biers, and carry us home to be buried 
 in minsters, and we shall not be left as food for wolves 
 and dogs." 
 
 "Thou sayest well," said Roland. And he placed 
 the horn to his lips. High were the hills, deep and 
 dark were the gorges, narrow were the ways among the 
 mountains. Yet the sound of that horn was heard for 
 thirty leagues. Charlemagne and Duke Namon heard 
 it while yet they were between the gates. 
 
 " Hark ! " said the king. " I hear Roland's horn. 
 The felon Moors have attacked him : he is hard pressed 
 in battle." 
 
 "You are foolishly mistaken," said Ganelon. "There
 
 396 The Story of Roland. 
 
 is no battle. You are old, your beard is white, your 
 head is flowery, you are growing childish. You love 
 your silly nephew, Roland, too well. He is only hunt- 
 ing among the mountains. He would blow his horn all 
 day for a single hare, and then he would boast before 
 you of his valor. Ride on. Your own France is not 
 far ahead." 
 
 But the king was not to be deceived. He ordered 
 Ganelon to be seized and bound, and given in charge of 
 his cooks, who were to hold him a close prisoner. They 
 bound him with a great chain, and laid him across the 
 back of a sumter-horse ; they pulled his beard ; they 
 struck him with their fists ; they beat him with sticks. 
 Sorry indeed was the traitor's plight, but his punish- 
 ment was just. As for Charlemagne, he turned, and, 
 with all his host, hastened back to the succor of Roland 
 and the valiant rear-guard. High were the mountain 
 walls, and darkly did they overhang the way ; deep 
 were the mountain gorges ; swift and strong were the 
 torrents; narrow and steep was the road. The trum- 
 pets sounded: anxiously and with haste the king and 
 his horsemen retraced their steps. 
 
 Fiercely still the battle raged in the fated Vale of 
 Thorns. One by one the French knights fell ; but, for 
 every one that was slain, ten Pagans bit the dust. At 
 length Oliver was wounded unto death ; but stilFhe sat 
 on his horse, and struck valiantly about him with his 
 good Haultclear. His eyes lost their strength : he could 
 not see. He met Roland, and struck him a blow which
 
 L 
 
 The Vale of Thorns. 397 
 
 split his helmet down to the nose-piece, but luckily 
 wounded him not. 
 
 Brother," said Roland softly and gently, " thou hast 
 ot done this willingly. I am Roland, he who has loved 
 |thee so long and so well." 
 
 "Ah, comrade!" said Oliver, "I hear thee; but I can- 
 not see thee. Pray forgive me if I have harmed thee." 
 
 "I am none the worse," answered Roland; "and there 
 is naught to forgive." 
 
 Then the two brothers bent over from their steeds, 
 and embraced each other; and amid much love, and 
 many hasty words of farewell, they parted. 
 
 And now all the French were slain, save only Roland 
 and the archbishop. The hero was wounded in a dozen 
 places : he felt his life-blood oozing away. Again he 
 drew his ivory horn, and feebly sounded it. He would 
 fain know whether Charlemagne were coming. The king 
 was in the pass, not far away, and he heard the failing 
 blast. 
 
 "Ah, Roland!" said he, "the battle goes ill with 
 thee." Then he turned to his host, and said, "Blow 
 loud your trumpets, that the hero may know that succor 
 comes." 
 
 At once sixty thousand bugles were blown so loudly 
 that the valleys and the caves resounded, and the rocks 
 themselves trembled. Roland heard it, and thanked 
 God. The Pagans heard it, and knew that it boded no 
 good to them. They rushed in a body upon Roland 
 and the archbishop. Roland's horse was slain beneath
 
 398 The Story of Roland. 
 
 him; his shield was split in twain; his hauberk was 
 broken. The archbishop was mortally wounded, and 
 stretched upon the ground. Again the trumpets of 
 Charlemagne's host were heard, and the Pagans fled in 
 great haste toward Spain. 
 
 Then Roland knelt by the side of the dying arch- 
 bishop. "Kind friend, so good and true," said he, 
 " now the end has come. Our comrades whom we held 
 so dear are all dead. Give me leave to bring them, and 
 lay them in order by thee, that we may all have thy 
 blessing." 
 
 "It is well," answered the good Turpin. "Do as 
 thou wilt. The field is thine and mine." 
 
 So Roland, weak and faint, went all alone through 
 that field of blood, seeking his friends. He found Be- 
 renger and Otho and Anseis and Samson, and proud 
 Gerard of Rousillon ; and one by one he brought them, 
 and laid them on the grass before the archbishop. 
 And lastly he brought back Oliver, pressed gently 
 against his bosom, and placed him on a shield by the 
 others. The archbishop wept ; and he lifted up his 
 feeble hands, and blessed them : " Sad has it been with 
 you, comrades. May God, the glorious King, receive 
 your souls in his paradise ! " 
 
 Then Roland, faint with loss of blood, and overcome 
 with grief, swooned, and fell to the ground. The good 
 archbishop felt such distress as he had never known be- 
 fore. He staggered to his feet ; he took the ivory horn 
 in his hands, and went to fetch water from the brook
 
 The Vale of Thorns. 399 
 
 which flows through the Vale of Thorns. Slowly and 
 feebly he tottered onward, but not far : his strength 
 failed, and he fell to the ground. Soon Roland recov- 
 ered from his swoon, and looked about him. On the 
 green grass this side of the rivulet, he saw the arch- 
 bishop lying. The good Turpin was dead. 
 
 And now Roland felt that he, too, was nigh death's ,' 
 door. He took the ivory horn in one hand, and Duran- 
 dal in the other, and went up a little hill that lies I 
 toward Spain. He sat down beneath a pine-tree where ' 
 were four great blocks of marble. He looked at the 
 blade Durandal. " Ha, Durandal," he said, " how 
 bright and white thou art ! Thou shinest and flamest 
 against the sun ! Many countries have I conquered 
 with thee, and now for thee I have great grief. Better 
 would it be to destroy thee than to have thee fall into 
 the hands of the Pagan-folk." 
 
 With great effort he raised himself on his feet again. 
 Ten times he smote with Durandal the great rock be- 
 fore him. But the sword was bright and whole as ever, 
 while the rock was split in pieces. Then the hero lay 
 down upon the grass, with his face toward the foe. He 
 put the sword and the horn under him. He stretched 
 his right glove toward heaven, and an unseen hand 
 came and took it away. Dead was the matchless hero. 
 , Not long after this King Charlemagne with his host 
 came to the death-strewn Vale of Thorns. Great was 
 the grief of the king, and of all the French, when they 
 found that they had come too late to save even a single
 
 4OO The Story of Roland. 
 
 life. Roland was found lying on the grass, his face 
 turned toward Spain. Charlemagne took him up ten- 
 derly in his arms, and wept. 
 
 "Friend Roland," said he, "worthiest of men, bravest 
 of warriors, noblest of all my knights, what shall I say 
 when they in France shall ask news of thee ? I shall 
 tell them that thou art dead in Spain. With great sor- 
 row shall I hold my realm from this time on. Every 
 day I shall weep and bewail thee, and wish that my life, 
 too, were ended." 
 
 Then the French buried their dead on the field where 
 they had fallen. But the king brought Roland and 
 Oliver and the archbishop to Blaye in France, and laid 
 them in white marble tombs ; and there they lie until 
 this day, in the beautiful little chapel of St. Roman's. 
 And he took the ivory horn to Bordeaux, and filled it 
 with fine gold, and laid it on the altar of the church in 
 that city ; and there it is still seen by the pious pil- 
 grims who visit that place. 1 
 
 < See Note 20 at the end of this
 
 THE AFTER WORD. 
 
 SUCH is the story of Roland as gathered from the 
 songs and poems of the middle ages. 
 
 When Charlemagne returned, sad, and worn with 
 many cares, to his own chosen home at Aix, a fair 
 damsel met him on the threshold of his palace. It was 
 Alda, Oliver's sister, the betrothed wife of Roland. 
 
 "Where now is Roland the hero, the worthiest of 
 the barons of France ? " asked she. 
 
 Scarcely could the king make answer, so great was 
 the sorrow which lay at his heart. " Sister, fair friend," 
 said he gently, " that noble knight whom we both loved 
 so well can nevermore come to thee, nor will his strong 
 arm ever again defend us." 
 
 Faded then the color from the faithful maiden's 
 cheeks. She cried not, nor uttered a sound. She tot- 
 tered, and fell on the stone pavement at Charlemagne's 
 feet. God is kind : he takes the broken-hearted home. 
 The maidens in the palace raised her up tenderly, and 
 bore her into the qiiet little chapel, where they 
 watched over her body, and prayed for her soul, until 
 
 401
 
 4 02 The After Word. 
 
 the break of day ; and then, with many sad tears and 
 bitter lamentations, they buried her close by the altar * 
 and full great honor did the king pay to her. 1 
 
 As for Ganelon the traitor, he was brought before the 
 council of peers, loaded with irons, and chained like a 
 felon. " Lord-barons," said the king, " here is Ganelon, 
 whom I pray you will judge as beseemeth you just. 
 He has traitorously taken from me twenty thousand 
 of my host, and my nephew, whom ye shall never see, 
 and Oliver the brave and the courteous ; and he has 
 betrayed the twelve peers for gold." 
 
 And the song goes on to tell, how, through the advice 
 of Thierry of Anjou, Ganelon was sentenced to be torn 
 in pieces by horses, a just punishment for one so base 
 and vile. But Charlemagne's heart was overburdened 
 with sorrow and care ; and naught could bring again 
 the hopeful days of the past. "O God!" said he in 
 despair, " so painful is my life ! " And he wept with his 
 eyes, and pulled his snow-white beard. 
 
 Here ends the song which Turold sang. But another 
 poem a tells us, that, not long after this, the great king 
 died, and that at the moment of his death all the bells 
 in the kingdom tolled, of their own accord, a solemn 
 dirge. He was buried in Aix-la-Chapelle, in a tomb, 
 which, according to one account,3 was very rich and 
 
 See Note ai at the cad of this volume. 
 Couronnement de Louis. * Crdnica General de EspaBa.
 
 The After Word. 403 
 
 well made. And on this tomb were painted all the 
 battles which he had fought and won. But on that side 
 which faced toward the Pyrenees Mountains, where he 
 had been outwitted and defeated by the Moors, there 
 was not any thing painted ; for he had not yet avenged 
 himself for the latest injuries which he had there received. 
 As for Ogier the Dane, it is related by one of the 
 older song-writers, from whom I have already borrowed 
 much, that he lived a long time in Hainault and Bra- 
 bant, doing good, and hating evil, and protecting the 
 poor and friendless. Wherever he went, the people 
 called down Heaven's choicest blessings upon him ; and 
 when he died, full of years and honors, he was buried 
 in the abbey at Meaux. But another and later poem 
 tells us a very different story. It relates, that, before 
 the death of Charlemagne, Ogier, with a thousand 
 French knights, and assisted by his brother Guyon of 
 Denmark, led a crusade into the Holy Land. On every 
 hand the Saracens were subdued, and at length Ogier 
 was crowned King of Judaea. But not long did he enjoy 
 his kingdom. He was ill at ease and unhappy, so far 
 from the court of Charlemagne, and he determined to 
 return to France. One night he embarked secretly, 
 and sailed across the sea. The sky was clear, the wind 
 was fair, and the vessel sped swiftly onward, but not in 
 the way which its master desired. A mountain of mag- 
 netic iron drew it toward an unknown shore, where it
 
 404 The After Word. 
 
 was dashed to pieces upon the rocks. With difficulty 
 Ogier escaped from the wreck. The country in which 
 he found himself was a strange land, not like any he 
 had ever before seen. While he stood, uncertain which 
 way to go, a beautiful horse, stronger and fairer even 
 than Broiefort, came across the sands, and knelt before 
 him, as if asking him to mount. Nothing fearing, Ogier 
 leaped upon his back. With a neigh of delight, the 
 horse, who was none other than Papillon, the fairy- 
 steed of Morgan the Fay, bounded forward. Over 
 rocks and hills, through forests, and among steep 
 precipices, he ran with lightning-speed, and paused 
 not until he arrived at a wondrous palace built in the 
 midst of a most beautiful landscape. There were gar- 
 dens and orchards, and lakes and waterfalls and foun- 
 tains, and every thing that could charm the senses of 
 the hero. It was the island Vale of Avalon 
 
 " Where falls not hail, or rain, or any snow, 
 Nor ever wind blows loudly; but it lies 
 Deep-meadowed, happy, fair with orchard-lawns, 
 And bowery hollows crowned with summer sea." 
 
 There he was kindly welcomed by Morgan the Fay, 
 the queen of that land. A crown of roses was placed 
 upon his head, and he lost all remembrance of his 
 former life. There, through long years of happiness, 
 he had the companionship of King Arthur and his
 
 The After Word. 405 
 
 knights, and of all the great heroes that have ever 
 lived on earth ; and he was freed from death and every 
 mortal care. But once on a time he bethought him 
 that he would return to France, and visit his friend 
 Charlemagne again. The fairy queen consented, and 
 the sea-goblins carried him back. But every thing was 
 changed. Paris was no longer the city he had once 
 known. He made his way to the palace, and inquired 
 for Charlemagne. Men laughed at him, and told him 
 that Charlemagne had been dead two hundred years, 
 and that Hugues Capet was king of France. The good 
 Dane felt now that the world had no joys for him ; 
 and not long afterward he was carried back again to 
 the sweet Vale of Avalon, where he still lives with the 
 blissful company of heroes. 
 
 And in various countries of Europe men tell marvel- 
 lous tales of the re-appearance of Charlemagne. It was 
 said by some that the great king returned to life at the 
 time of the Crusades, and, with the same martial vigor 
 as of old, led his hosts to mortal combat with the 
 Saracens. Some say that he has been seen in the 
 mountains of Untersberg, in company with Frederick 
 Barbarossa, waiting for the time when he shall return 
 to his kingdom. Others believe, that in Desenberg he 
 bides the coming of the millennial day. A German 
 poet 1 says, "Charlemagne the great king lives still 
 
 1 Oebecke, in Karl Simrock's Kerlendische Heldenbuch.
 
 406 The After Word. 
 
 with his heroes. It is in Desenberg that he rests from 
 his conquests. The mountain dwarfs guard his dwell- 
 ing. There, in the broad halls, the heroes repose, over- 
 powered with sleep, bound by an unseen hand. Around 
 them are their glittering arms, ready to be donned for 
 the battle. They breathe softly; they dream of war 
 and victory. And at a marble table in the middle of 
 the hall Charlemagne sits : his head reclines upon his 
 breast ; his countenance beams with the fire of youth ; 
 his hair and beard fall in long white waves to the 
 ground. Long time has he waited there with his com- 
 rades. Oftentimes the dawning of their new life 
 seems at hand, and a hum of joy runs through the 
 halls. Then all the warriors rise to their feet : they 
 aeize their lances and their swords ; but suddenly their 
 joy is quenched, and again their eyes are closed in 
 slumber. Only the king remains awake for a while ; 
 and he cries out, until the sound is echoed through 
 the mountains, 'Ye dwarfs who guard my dwelling, 
 what year is this?' The dwarfs answer; and the 
 shadows settle again upon his features. ' Sleep on, 
 comrades/ he says, 'the hour has not yet come.' With 
 * dull sound, each warrior falls prone upon the earth : 
 they sleep, and await the hour when the spell shall be 
 broken. The king, with his long white beard, and his 
 flowing hair, and his countenance glowing with youth, 
 sits again at the marble table."
 
 NOTES. 
 
 NOTE i. Page 8. 
 
 u THEN they saw Karl himself, the Iron King, crested with an 
 iron helmet, his arms protected with iron bracelets, an iron hau- 
 berk sheltering his iron chest and his huge shoulders, in his left 
 hand a lance of iron lifted upright, for his right hand was always 
 stretched toward his unconquered sword. His knees even, which 
 are generally left bare of mail, were covered with plates of iron. 
 What shall I say of his leggings, which, with the whole army, were 
 wont to be of iron? In his shield there was naught but iron; and 
 even his horse, in color and spirit, was of iron. All those who 
 went before him, all who marched by his side, all who followed 
 him, imitated his costume as far as possible. Iron filled the fields 
 and the streets ; the sun's rays fell upon naught but iron : so that 
 the people of Pavia, more glad by terror than by the iron itself, 
 fell down before the glad iron. ' O iron ! Alas, iron ! ' such was 
 the confused clamor which filled the city. Otker saw all these 
 wonders at a glance, and said to Desier, ' Behold that which thou 
 hast so much wished to see ! ' And he fell down almost lifeless." 
 From Des Gestes de Charlemagne, written by a monk of St. Gall, 
 about the end of the ninth century. Quoted by J. J. Ampere, in 
 his Histoire Littiraire de la France avant le *"' Sitcle. 
 
 NOTE 2. Page 30. 
 
 THE legend of Milon and the Princess Bertha and of the boy- 
 hood of Roland is probably of Italian origin. It is related in a 
 
 407
 
 4 o8 Notes. 
 
 very old collection of romances, entitled Real* di Fraxda, and in a 
 little poem of the sixteenth century, called InMamoramento at Mi* 
 lone dAnglante. It is the subject, also, of two Spanish romances 
 of the sixteenth century. Another story of Roland's parentage 
 and boyhood, very different in all its essentials, is given in an 
 old French metrical romance of Charlemagne, written by Girard 
 d* Amiens. The scene between Roland and Charlemagne at the 
 banquet-table, as related in this chapter, is adapted from a poem 
 by Uhland, in Karl Simrock's Kerlendixhe Heldenbnck. 
 
 NOTE 3. Page 32. 
 
 THE story of Charlemagne's entry into Rome is probably 
 authentic. It is given here nearly as related by Eginhard, in his 
 Vita CaroU AfagnL See GUIZOTS History of France, i. 222, and 
 JAMES'S History of Charlemagne, 150. 
 
 NOTE 4. Page 41. 
 
 CHARLEJCAGNE'S wars with the Saxons are subjects of history 
 rather than of legend. I have given this brief account of one of 
 his campaigns across the Rhine, in order to acquaint yon with one 
 of the most romantic episodes in the real history of the great 
 emperor. "We cannot be surprised," says Lndlow, "that French 
 legend should have fastened upon the personage of Charlemagne. 
 It is difficult to read without wonder the bare enumeration of his 
 achievements, how by him or by his lieutenants, the Prankish 
 sway was carried to the Weser, the Elbe, and the Oder, the Danube, 
 the Adige, and the Po, the Ebro; how the Irminsul was thrown 
 down in German forests ; how the Pope crowned him, and the Emirs 
 of Spain became his vassals, and the distant Khalifs assured him 
 of their friendship." 
 
 The idol Irminsul was probably a statue, raised, originally in 
 honor of Arminius, near the spot where he defeated the Roman 
 legions under Germanicns, in A.D. 15. It was long regarded by
 
 Notes. 409 
 
 the Germans with religions veneration. "The Temple of Irminsol 
 was spacious, elaborate, and magnificent. The image was raised 
 upon a marble column. ... Its right hand held a banner, in which 
 a red rose was conspicuous: its left presented a balance. The 
 crest of its helmet was a cock. On its breast was engraven a bear ; 
 and the shield depending from its shoulders exhibited a lion in a 
 field full of flowers." SHARON TURNER'S History of the Anglo- 
 Saxons, i. 224. 
 
 NOTE 5. Page 46. 
 
 THE story of the Knight of the Swan was a very popular legend, 
 and was related with many variations of incident, time, and place. 
 Its hero is designated variously as Lohengrin, Elias Grail, Gerard 
 Swan, Helias, and Salvius Brabo. Of all these versions, that of 
 Lohengrin is by far the most beautiful See BAKING-GOULD'S 
 Curious Myths of the Middle Ages. 
 
 NOTE 6. Page 57. 
 
 IT is worthy of note, that the children of Charlemagne men- 
 tioned in the legends are quite different in name and character 
 from those known in history. In the legends we read of Chariot, 
 Louis, Lothaire, Gobart, Belissent, and Emma: in history we have 
 recorded the names of Pepin, Charles, Rotruda, Adelais, Bertha 
 Carloman, Louis, Gisla, Hildegarde, Theoderada, HQtruda, and 
 Rothaida. Only one, Louis, belongs both to legend and history. 
 
 The names of the twelve peers vary constantly in the different 
 romances. In the Chanson de Roland, they are Roland, Oliver, 
 Gerin, Gerer, Josse, Berenger, Jastor, Anseis, Gerard, Gaifer, and 
 Turpin. In Furabras, they are Roland, Oliver, Thierry, Geoffrey 
 or Godfrey, Namon, Ogier, Richard, Berard, Gillimer, Aubri, Basin, 
 ind Guy of Bourgogne. 
 
 NOTE 7. Page 80. 
 
 OGIER the Dane was probably a real historical personage, yet 
 we know almost nothing of the true story of his life and exploits.
 
 4io Notes. 
 
 He is mentioned by the Monk of St. Gall under the name of Otker; 
 and the author of the so-called Chronicle of Turpin, after alluding 
 to his heroism in the wars of Charlemagne, says, " Even unto this 
 day, men sing of the warrior who accomplished so many wonders." 
 There are but few of the French romances in which the name of 
 Ogier does not occur. His earlier life is the subject of a very old 
 poem, entitled Les Enfances d"* Ogier, the date of whose composi- 
 tion is unknown. The story of his exploits in Italy, and of his later 
 difficulties with Charlemagne, as related in the present volume, has 
 been derived mainly from a long poem written by one Raimbert, 
 a minstrel of the twelfth century. See GASTON PARIS, Histoire 
 Pottique de Charlemagne, p. 307. The later poets, in dealing with 
 romances of Ogier, have added many fanciful and extravagant 
 details not found in the earlier versions. 
 
 NOTE 8. Page 103. 
 
 I HAVE introduced this episode in order to acquaint you with 
 another French epic, The Song of the Lorrainers (Le Roman des 
 Loherains}, The story of Bego, a part of which is given here, 
 forms the third and finest division of the great poem, and was 
 written by Jehan de Flagy, a minstrel of the twelfth century. 
 " Les Loherains is in spirit rather a Teutonic than a French epic. 
 It was written, doubtless, by Germans who had adopted the French 
 nationality, and who could not forget that their ancestors had con- 
 quered the country which was their home. ... It is an epic of 
 feudal society, and as such deserves particular attention, as illus- 
 trating in a remarkable manner the institutions and customs of 
 feudalism." HENRI VAN LAUN, History of French Literature^ 
 1.149, 
 
 NOTE 9. Page 132. 
 
 THIS story is mainly derived from a poem, entitled Girart d* 
 Viant, written by Bertrand de Bar-sur-Aube in the thirteenth cen- 
 tury. In the original version, the reconciliation of Roland and
 
 Notes. 411 
 
 Oliver is effected by a cloud settling down between them, and an 
 angel bidding them cease their fighting. Victor Hugo has given a 
 modern and most beautiful version of this story in his Legende da 
 S&cles. 
 
 NOTE 10. Page 146. 
 
 THE tradition relating the flight of the four brothers on the back 
 of Bayard is the origin of " the famous signboard, which may be 
 met with half over Europe, but is especially common in France, of 
 the four sons of Aymon astride on a long-backed charger." 
 LUDLOW, Popular Epics of the Middle Ages. 
 
 NOTE n. Page 174. 
 
 NEXT to the romantic legends of Roland and Ogier the Dane, 
 none are more popular, or more widely known, than those of Rei- 
 nold. In France there have been several versions of these legends ; 
 the best being contained in a long poem, entitled Les Quatre Fits 
 d" 1 Aymon, a modern edition of which was published at Reims, in 
 1861. In Germany the story of Reinold and his brothers is related 
 in a manuscript romance of the thirteenth century, and appears in 
 a modernized form in Die Haimonskinder, a poem published at 
 Leipzig in 1830. In Spain these legends were embodied, in the 
 sixteenth century, in a romance called Espejo de Caballerias (The 
 Mirror of Chivalry). From this last-named version, Lope de Vega 
 derived the materials for his play of Pobreza de Reynaldos. In 
 Don Quixote there is a humorous reference to our hero as " Rei- 
 naldos de Montalvan." " There is every reason to believe," says 
 Ludlow, " that to this world-renowned legend we owe the scenery 
 of one of Shakspeare's most charming masterpieces ; and that 
 Jaques nor Touchstone would ever have moralized in Arden, had 
 not the story of the Sons of Aymon made of its forest another 
 ' Broceliande ' of legendary lore." 
 \
 
 412 Notes. 
 
 NOTE 12. Page 191. 
 
 FOR the story of Roland's adventures in connection with the 
 Princess of Cathay, and of his exploits in the Far East and in 
 Fairyland, we are indebted chiefly to the works of the Italian poets 
 of the fifteenth century, and more especially to the Orlando In- 
 namorato of Boiardo. In order to harmonize the different parts 
 of my story, and to adapt it to my audience, I have found it neces- 
 sary, in this chapter and those which follow, to deviate frequently 
 from the original versions, while endeavoring to preserve the 
 essential parts of the narrative unchanged. 
 
 NOTE 13. Page 235. 
 
 THE name " Fata Morgana " is applied to an optical illusion, or 
 mirage, frequently seen in the Strait of Messina. " Objects on the 
 Sicilian shore are refracted and reflected upon the water in mid' 
 channel, presenting enlarged and duplicated images. Gigantic 
 figures of men and horses move over the picture, as similar images 
 in miniature are seen flitting across the white sheet of the camera- 
 obscura. The wonderful exhibition is of short duration." The 
 most prominent figures in ancient and modern Italian legends are 
 the Fate, fairy beings ruled by Demogorgon, and whose home is 
 in the Himalaya Mountains. One of these, called Fata Morgana, 
 is the personification of Fortune. In the romances of King Arthur 
 she is called Morgan le Fay. 
 
 NOTE 14. Page 254. 
 
 THE narrative of Roland's adventure with the ore is given in 
 Ariosto's Orlando Furioso. It is, of course, an imitation of the 
 old story of Perseus and Andromeda ; and it illustrates the manner 
 in which the great Italian poets mingled classical and Gothic fic- 
 tions, and formed from them "a magnificent and fanciful ara- 
 besque," in which the natural and the beautiful are found side by 
 side with the grotesque and the extravagant.
 
 Notes. 413 
 
 NOTE 15. Page 3 1 8. 
 
 THE adventures of Roland with Sir Ferumbras, Sir Otuel, and 
 the Giant Ferragus, are related in certain English poems of the 
 fourteenth century, an analysis of which is given in Ellis's Early 
 English Metrical Romances. These romances were doubtless ali 
 derived originally from older French versions. They are not very 
 interesting reading; and I have not thought it necessary to do more 
 than merely mention the exploits which they relate. 
 
 NOTE 1 6. Page 348. 
 
 THE description of the land of Prester-John is found in a curious 
 letter claiming to have been written by Prester-John himself to 
 Manuel Commenus, Emperor of Constantinople about the year 
 1165. Similar letters were sent to other European monarchs, and 
 were turned into rhyme, and sung all over Europe by minstrels 
 and trouveres. See BARING-GOULD'S Curious Myths of the 
 Middle Ages. 
 
 NOTE 17. Page 363. 
 
 IN this chapter I have ventured to give a somewhat literal ren- 
 dering of one of Uhland's beautiful and characteristic poems. See 
 Simrock's Kerlendische Heldenbuch. " This poem," says Gaston 
 Paris, " is admirable for its naivetl of expression, and for its vivid 
 rendering of the ancient poetical ideas concerning Charlemagne." 
 
 NOTE 18. Page 376. 
 
 "THE origin of this tale seems to lie in a legend of the siege 
 of Aquileia by Attila, quoted by M. Ame'de'e Thierry, in his Histoire 
 d Attila, according to which the inhabitants of that town covered 
 their escape to the lagoons by leaving their walls manned with 
 statues in full armor in guise of sentinels." See LUDLOW'S Pop- 
 ular Epics of the Middle Ages.
 
 414 Notes. 
 
 NOTE 19. Page 394. 
 
 THE Karlamagnus Saga relates, that, upon the occasion of the 
 birth of his son Louis, Charlemagne made a vow to visit the holy 
 sepulchre at Jerusalem. He afterward performed the pilgrimage, 
 and returned by way of Constantinople, where he assisted the king 
 of the Greeks in defending his country against the Saracens. The 
 Greek monarch, in the excess of his gratitude, offered to become 
 the vassal of Charlemagne ; but the great king would accept only 
 of a few relics by way of recompense for his services. Among 
 these relics was the point of the spear which had pierced the side 
 of the Saviour; and this he had made into a sword-blade, which 
 he called Joyeuse. Hence, from that day, the battle-cry of those 
 who followed his standard was, " Monjoie ! Monjoie 1 " 
 
 NOTE 20. Page 400. 
 
 THE description of the battle of Roncevaux, which composes a 
 part of the Chanson de Roland, is, without doubt, the finest of all 
 the legends which cluster around the name of Charlemagne. The 
 original poem doubtless the song which Taillefer sang at the 
 battle of Hastings is said to have been written, probably in 
 the tenth century, by a minstrel named Turold. The story of this 
 battle is also related, with many changes of incident, in the so- 
 called Chronicle of Turpin. Eginhard, the only historian of that 
 period whose account can be considered authentic, says, that, in 
 the year 778, the rear-guard of the French army was attacked by 
 the Basques while in the upper passes of the Pyrenees. " There 
 took place a fight, in which the French were killed to a man. . . . 
 And Roland, prefect of the marches of Brittany, fell in this engage- 
 ment." Says M. Guizot, "The disaster of Roncevaux, and the 
 heroism of the warriors who perished there, became, in France, the 
 object of popular sympathy, and the favorite topic for the exercise 
 of the popular fancy. The Song of Roland, a real Homeric poem 
 in its great beauty, and yet rude and simple as became its national
 
 Notes. 415 
 
 character, bears witness to the prolonged importance attained in 
 Europe by this incident in the history of Charlemagne." 
 
 NOTE 21. Page 402. 
 
 Translation, by Sir EDMUND HEAD, of a poem in the Libro dt 
 Romances, a collection of Spanish ballads first published in 1 550. 
 
 11 In Paris, Lady Alda sits. Sir Roland's destined bride, 
 With her three hundred maidens to tend her at her side : 
 Alike their robes and sandals all, and the braid that binds their hair ; 
 And alike the meal in their lady's hall the whole three hundred share. 
 Around her, in her chair of state, they all their places hold : 
 A hundred weave the web of silk, and a hundred spin the gold ; 
 And a hundred touch their gentle lutes to soothe that lady's pain : 
 And she thinks on him that's far away, with the host of Charlemagne. 
 Lulled by the sound, she sleeps ; but soon she wakens with a scream ; 
 And, as her maidens gather round, she thus recounts her dream : 
 ' I sat upon a desert shore, and from the mountain nigh, 
 Right toward me, I seemed to see a gentle falcon fly ; 
 But close behind an eagle swooped, and struck that falcon down, 
 And with talons and beak he rent the bird as he cowered beneath my gown.' 
 The chief of her maidens smiled, and said, ' To me it doth not seem 
 That the Lady Alda reads aright the boding of her dream, 
 Thou art the falcon, and thy knight is the eagle in his prid* 
 As he comes in triumph from the war, and claims thee as his bride.' 
 The maidens smiled ; but Alda sighed, and gravely shook bar hea4, 
 1 Full rich,' quoth she, ' shall thy guerdon be, if thou the truth hast id. 
 Tis morn I her letters, stained with blood, the truth too plainly tdl - 
 How, in the chase of Roncevaux, Sir Roland fought and icli."

 
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