OF THE TREACHERY OF KING JOHN
King Charles said to his knights and barons, "See now how this
villain Reynaud has deceived me, and carried away my crown. Devise
some means by which I may recover that which I have lost." "You must
besiege," said the Duke Naymes, "his castle of Montalban." So the
King gathered together a great army, so great indeed that provisions
failed them. After Easter he set out from Paris, and in due time
came to Reynaud's castle, Montalban.
The King had made Roland captain of his host. When Roland therefore
saw the castle, he being even overbold, said to the King, "Let us
assault this place without delay." But the King answered, "Not so,
we will first try them, whether they will yield up the place
peaceably." He sent therefore a messenger who should say to Reynaud,
"The King bids you yield up your castle and also your brother
Richard. If you refuse he will take it by force, and hang up both
you and him." Reynaud answered, "I am not one that betrays friends.
But if the King will assure to us our lives and our castle we will
yield ourselves to him." To this the King would not consent.
Therefore he besieged the place meaning to reduce it by famine, for
he perceived that it could not be taken by force.
It fell on a certain day that Roland, seeing that there were many
birds by the river, was minded to go hawking. So he went with Oliver
his comrade (this Oliver was a very noble knight, and a close friend
to Roland) and a company of knights, the bravest of the host. This
was seen by a certain spy, who told it to Reynaud and Mawgis. Mawgis
said, "Cousin, you will do well to attack the King's host, for they
are not thinking of battle." So these two issued forth from the
castle and four thousand knights with them.
Turpin the Archbishop[1] was in charge of the King's host. When he
saw the enemy come forth from the castle, he was not a little
troubled. First he called to Ogier the Dane that he should arm
himself, and afterwards to the other barons and knights that they
should make ready for battle.
[1] The real Turpin was, it would seem, Tilpin, Archbishop of Rheims
from 754 to 794. We do not know that Tilpin was a warrior, but his
predecessor, Milo by name, is said to have been a "warrior clerk,"
and as such to have been put into the archbishopric by Charles Martel.
First Reynaud slew a certain knight of the King's army. When Turpin
the Archbishop saw this he spurred his horse against Reynaud. The
two met with so great force that the spears of both were broken in
pieces; but Reynaud being the quicker to draw his sword dealt the
Archbishop so grievous a blow that both he and his horse were
well-nigh brought to the ground. Then cried Reynaud, "Father, are
you that Turpin that boasts himself so much? By my faith you were
better singing mass in some church than fighting with me." The
Archbishop was much angered at these words, and made at Reynaud with
all his might. But neither he nor Ogier the Dane nor any one of the
King's men could hold their ground that day against the sons of
Aymon. And when Mawgis and his knights came forth from the wood
where they lay in ambush, and assailed the King's host on the flank,
then the Frenchmen fled, not without great loss, especially at the
crossing of the river. The knights from Montalban pursued them for a
mile or so, and Mawgis took the golden dragon that was on Roland's
tent (for Roland had not yet come back from hawking) and set it on
the great tower of Montalban, so that all men might see it. When the
King saw it he said, "Now has Roland taken the fortress of these
villains." But when he knew the truth, he was well-nigh beside
himself with rage.
Meanwhile King John was not a little troubled in mind. For he said
to himself, "How will these things end? These five knights, for all
that they are brave warriors, cannot always prevail against the power
of the King." So he called his barons to a council, and demanded
their advice. One said one thing, and another another, but the
greater part had little love for Reynaud. Of these a certain old man
that was called Earl Antony was the spokesman. He said, "I know this
Reynaud, of how haughty a temper he is. His father had but a single
town, and now he holds himself so high that he disdains to be the
King's man. And now you have nourished his pride, giving him your
sister to wife. And the end will be that he will take your kingdom
from you, and have it for himself. If you would save yourself from
such dishonour, deliver him and his brethren to the King."
When King John saw that this counsel pleased the greater part of his
barons, he was much troubled in mind, and wept for grief and shame.
Nevertheless he called his secretary to him, and said, "Now write to
the King and say that, if he will leave wasting my land, I will
presently deliver to him the sons of Aymon and Mawgis their cousin.
If he will send to Vancouleurs, there he will find them, clothed with
mantles of scarlet trimmed with fur, and riding upon mules." So the
secretary wrote according to these words in a letter, and gave the
letter to a knight that he might take it to King Charles. When the
King had read the letter, he was very glad. And he delivered to the
messenger of the King a letter wherein he had written what it was in
his mind to do, namely, to send Ogier the Dane with a company of
knights who should take the brethren prisoner. Also he sent from his
treasury four mantles of scarlet, trimmed with fur.
When King John had received the letter with the mantles, he commanded
a hundred knights to make themselves ready to ride with him to the
Castle of Montalban. When he was come to the castle his sister came
forth to greet him, but when she would have kissed him, as her custom
was, he turned his face aside, saying, "Pardon me, my sister, I have
an ill tooth that troubles me sore." Not long after the brethren
came back to the castle, and when they heard that the King was there,
they took each his horn and sounded a welcome. When the King heard
the sound, he thought no little shame of himself, yet did not turn
from his purpose. When he saw the brethren, he said to them, "I have
spoken for you to King Charles, and he has promised that if you will
go to the plain of Vancouleurs riding on mules, clad in scarlet
mantles which I will presently give you, with flowers in your hands
and without arms, he will make peace with you. For as soon as you
shall cast yourselves at his feet, he will pardon you and give you
again your lands."
There was not a little debate among the brethren on this matter, for
Reynaud was minded to go, but the others were unwilling. The wife of
Reynaud also was set against the journey, telling him of a terrible
dream that she had dreamed. "I saw," she said, "a thousand wild
boars come out of the forest of Ardennes. These fell upon you, and
rent your body in pieces. I saw how Alard was slain by an arrow by
Frenchmen, and how Richard was hanged on an apple tree." "Hold your
peace," said Reynaud. "He that puts his trust in dreams has but
little faith in God. Think you that your brother will betray us?
Does he not send eight of his chief barons with us for surety." To
his brethren he said, "If you are fearful then will I go alone."
So the four went their way to Vancouleurs, not without fears, for
Reynaud himself doubted to what the matter might grow. Now the plain
of Vancouleurs was a solitary place, where four ways met, with
forests on every side, in which forests, by command of the King, many
hundreds of knights lay in ambush, ready to issue forth and fall upon
the brethren. Of these knights Ogier the Dane was the chief, and was
not a little in doubt how he should bear him, for on the one hand he
was near of kin to the brethren, and on the other he was bound in
duty to perform the command of the King. Sometimes he was inclined
one way, and sometimes another. First he suffered the brethren to
pass unharmed when he might have taken them at a disadvantage in a
narrow road; afterwards, when they were in the plain, he himself led
his knights against them.
When the brethren found that a great treachery had been practised
upon them, they prepared to defend themselves, having first confessed
their sins to each other, for lack of a priest to whom they might
confess. Great deeds did they that day, but not without suffering
many things. First Guichard was taken prisoner by the King's men and
bound upon a horse. Yet Reynaud delivered him from captivity. Then
Richard was grievously wounded by Gerard Lord of Valence, and came
very near to death, but him also Reynaud, than whom there was never
greater fighter in the world, rescued before it was too late. And
indeed it was in Richard's counsel that the brethren found
deliverance. For when he opened his eyes, having before been in a
swoon, and saw Reynaud, he said to him, "See you that rock yonder
that is so high and strong? If we can win thither, we shall be safe
from our enemies, at least for one while. Nor do I doubt that
Mawgis, who knows things that are hidden from other men, knows in
what plight we are, and will bring us help presently."
And Alard lifted Richard from the earth, and laid him upon his
shield, and carried him to the rock, Reynaud and Guichard holding
back meanwhile the King's men with such strength and valour as have
never been surpassed, for they fought as men who have no hope for
their lives, but think only how they may make most havoc among their
enemies. And now again did Ogier the Dane render them good service.
Truly they had scarce won their way to the rock but for this, for
when they were most hardly pressed he drew back his own company the
length of a bowshot. "You can deal with these men without me," said
he to the King's barons. "It were better that I should not meddle
with them any more, seeing that they are my kinsmen." And so
somewhat by favour of Ogier, but chiefly by their own valour, the
brethren won their way to the rock.
Now the rock had four faces. Of these Reynaud kept two, so strong
was he, and Guichard one and Alard one. As for Richard he was so
spent with loss of blood that he lay upon the ground and could render
no help. After a while an evil chance fell upon them, for Guichard
was so sorely wounded in the thigh that he could no longer stand upon
his feet. He cried to Reynaud, "Let us yield ourselves to the King,
seeing that neither Richard nor I can help you any more." "This is
to speak as a coward," answered Reynaud. "I would not yield myself
for all the gold and silver in the world, no nor for Bayard my horse,
though I love him better than all other things. And, indeed, what
were the profit of yielding ourselves? We should of a certainty be
hanged by the King, and it were better to perish here than to die in
so shameful a fashion." When Guichard heard these words he was
greatly troubled in spirit. "You are right, brother," he said. "Cut
me now the half of my shirt into strips and I will bind up my wounds
as best I may, and so make shift to help you against our enemies."
This he did; so these three still held the rock against the King.
Meanwhile Mawgis knew how his kinsmen had been betrayed, and made
haste to succour them. He saddled the horse Bayard, and rode with a
great company of knights as fast as might be to the place where the
brethren were. Great was Reynaud's joy to see him; while he was yet
a long way off he knew him, not so much for himself as for the horse
Bayard on which he rode. Swift as a swallow was Bayard, every stride
was of thirty feet at the least. When Richard heard it, he said to
his brother, "Lift me up in your arms that I may see him." So
Reynaud lifted him up, and when he saw Mawgis and Bayard coming up as
a storm comes he said, "The sight makes me whole again."
Ogier the Dane was glad to see that help had come to his kinsmen.
"See you these men?" he said to the Frenchmen, "we cannot stand
against them; let us retreat." But while he was speaking, Mawgis
came upon him, so swift was the horse Bayard, and defied him.
"Ogier," he said, "you came of true men, but you are yourself
untrue," and he spurred Bayard against him, and smote him on the
breast with his spear so stoutly that he broke both shield and
corslet. What would have been the end no man can say, for Ogier on
his part was not backward, but now the horse Bayard, knowing that his
master was near, carried away Mawgis in his own despite, and came and
knelt before Reynaud. Then Mawgis lighted down from him, and greeted
the brethren most lovingly.
As for Ogier and the Frenchmen, not being minded to stand against the
new-comers, they rode back to the river Dordogne, Reynaud crying out
to his kinsman, "Ho! cousin! have you then left being a soldier and
become a fisherman for eels or salmon?"
When they had crossed over the river the Frenchmen blamed Ogier the
Dane, for that he had favoured the brethren, while Ogier, on his
part, was greatly troubled, knowing that they spake truly, and yet
that the brethren held him in no regard for all that he had done.
These things so wrought upon him that he mounted his horse and swam
back across the river. When he had come to the other bank, Reynaud,
having ridden down to the river on Bayard to meet him, said, "Cousin,
surely we have had enough of fighting; let us be content therewith."
But Ogier answered, "You have blamed me for treachery, and my own
friends say the same thing. I would rather be slain than endure such
reproaches."
Reynaud said, "So be it." And the two charged at each other and met
with so great a shock that both were thrust from their saddles and
fell to the ground. Before they could raise themselves, for both
received no small damage, the two horses, Bayard and the other, fell
to fighting. Then Ogier, knowing that Bayard was the stronger by far
of the two, would have smitten him with his sword. Reynaud, on the
other hand, hindered him. And when Mawgis and the brothers, that is
to say, Alard and Guichard, for Richard was too sorely wounded, saw
this, they made all haste to come. When Ogier perceived them, he had
no choice but to mount on his horse and flee. Then Reynaud cried
after him, "Come back if you will and fetch your saddle," for the
girths had been broken when the two jousted together, "and I will
greet you in such a place that Charlemagne with all his men could not
help you." So Ogier passed over the river once again, and Mawgis
with the brethren went back to the rock where they had left Richard.