HOW ARCHBISHOP TURPIN DIED
When Roland came to himself he looked about him and saw how great was
the calamity that had befallen his army. For now there were left
alive to him two only, Turpin the Archbishop and Walter of Hum.
Walter had but that moment come down from the hills where he had been
fighting so fiercely with the heathen that all his men were dead; now
he cried to Roland for help. "Noble Count, where are you? I am
Walter of Hum, and am not unworthy to be your friend. Help me
therefore. For see how my spear is broken and my shield cleft in
twain, my hauberk is in pieces, and my body sorely wounded. I am
about to die; but I have sold my life at a great price." When Roland
heard him cry he set spurs to his horse and galloped to him.
"Walter," said he, "you are a brave warrior and a trustworthy. Tell
me now where are the thousand valiant men whom you took from my army.
They were right good soldiers, and I am in sore need of them."
"They are dead," answered Walter; "you will see them no more. A sore
battle we had with the Saracens yonder on the hills; they had the men
of Canaan there and the men of Armenia and the Giants; there were no
better men in their army than these. We dealt with them so that they
will not boast themselves of this day's work. But it cost us dear;
all the men of France lie dead on the plain, and I am wounded to the
death. And now, Roland, blame me not that I fled; for you are my
lord, and all my trust is in you."
"I blame you not," said Roland, "only as long as you live help me
against the heathen." And as he spake he took his cloak and rent it
into strips and bound up Walter's wounds therewith. This done he and
Walter and the Archbishop set fiercely on the enemy. Five-and-twenty
did Roland slay, and Walter slew six, and the Archbishop five. Three
valiant men of war they were; fast and firm they stood one by the
other; hundreds there were of the heathen, but they dared not come
near to the three valiant champions of France. They stood far off,
and cast at the three spears and darts and javelins and weapons of
every kind. Walter of Hum was slain forthwith; and the Archbishop's
armour was broken, and he wounded, and his horse slain under him.
Nevertheless he lifted himself from the ground, still keeping a good
heart in his breast. "They have not overcome me yet"; said he, "as
long as a good soldier lives, he does not yield."
Roland took his horn once more and sounded it, for he would know
whether King Charles were coming. Ah me! it was a feeble blast that
he blew. But the King heard it, and he halted and listened. "My
lords!" said he, "things go ill for us, I doubt not. To-day we shall
lose, I fear me much, my brave nephew Roland. I know by the sound of
his horn that he has but a short time to live. Put your horses to
their full speed, if you would come in time to help him, and let a
blast be sounded by every trumpet that there is in the army." So all
the trumpets in the host sounded a blast; all the valleys and hills
re-echoed with the sound; sore discouraged were the heathen when they
heard it. "King Charles has come again," they cried; "we are all as
dead men. When he comes he shall not find Roland alive." Then four
hundred of them, the strongest and most valiant knights that were in
the army of the heathen, gathered themselves into one company, and
made a yet fiercer assault on Roland.
Roland saw them coming, and waited for them without fear. So long as
he lived he would not yield himself to the enemy or give place to
them. "Better death than flight," said he, as he mounted his good
steed Veillantif, and rode towards the enemy. And by his side went
Turpin the Archbishop on foot. Then said Roland to Turpin, "I am on
horseback and you are on foot. But let us keep together; never will
I leave you; we two will stand against these heathen dogs. They have
not, I warrant, among them such a sword as Durendal." "Good,"
answered the Archbishop. "Shame to the man who does not smite his
hardest. And though this be our last battle, I know well that King
Charles will take ample vengeance for us."
When the heathen saw these two stand together they fell back in fear
and hurled at them spears and darts and javelins without number.
Roland's shield they broke and his hauberk; but him they hurt not;
nevertheless they did him a grievous injury, for they killed his good
steed Veillantif. Thirty wounds did Veillantif receive, and he fell
dead under his master. Roland stood alone, for the heathen had fled
from his presence, alone and on foot. Fain would he have followed
after the enemy; but he could not. Then he bethought him of the
Archbishop; when he looked, he saw him laid upon the plain. He
unlaced his helmet and took the corslet from off him, and bound up
his wounds with strips of his shirt of silk, and taking him in his
arms laid him down softly on the grass. This done, he said to him,
"Dear friend, suffer me to leave you awhile. All our comrades, the
men whom we loved so much, are dead. Yet we must not leave them
lying where they are. Listen then. I will go and seek for their
bodies, and I will bring them hither, and set them in order before
you." "Go," said the Archbishop, "and come back as soon as you may.
The field is left to me and to you. Thanks be to God for the same!"
Then Roland went to seek his comrades. Alone he went, and passed
over all the field of battle. He searched the mountains, he searched
the valley. There he found the dead bodies of Gerier and of Engelier
the Gascon, of Berenger and of Otho; and of others also. All the
Peers of France he found where they lay. Then he carried them one by
one and set them all on their knees before the Archbishop. Turpin
could not choose but weep when he saw these brave comrades dead. He
raised his hand and gave them his blessing. "Friends," said he, "an
evil fate has overtaken you in this world; may the God of glory
receive you in the world to come!"
Now Roland went again and searched the plain till he found the body
of his comrade Oliver. Under a thorn he found it, and he raised it
tenderly in his arms, and brought it back to where the Archbishop
sat, and put it hard by the other Peers of France. And Turpin gave
him also blessing and absolution. This done, Roland said with many
tears, "Oliver, my brave comrade, never was there a better knight
than you to break a lance, and shatter a shield, to give good counsel
to the brave, and to put to shame traitors and cowards." And when he
had said this he looked round on that fair company of the dead, and
his heart failed within him. Such goodly knights they were, and so
dear to him, and now they were gone. And he fell in a swoon upon the
ground.
[Illustration: ON THE FIELD OF RONCESVALLES.]
When the Archbishop saw him fall he reached out his hand and laid
hold of the horn. There was a spring of water in the place, and he
would fain give a draught to his comrade. Gathering all that he had
of strength together, he lifted himself from the ground, stumbling
and staggering he went, but his strength did not suffice for the
task; before he had gone the length of a furlong he fell staggering
to the ground, and the agony of death came upon him.
Roland came out of his swoon and lifted himself from the ground. He
looked down and he looked up, and lo! on the other side of his dead
comrades, stretched on the green grass, lay the great prince, the
Archbishop. His life was well-nigh spent. "I have sinned," he said,
and he clasped his hands and lifted them to heaven, and prayed to God
that he would take him into Paradise. And with these words he died.
This was the end of Turpin. Never was there a man who dealt with the
heathen with mightier blows or weightier discourse. May the blessing
of God be upon him!
When Roland saw that the Archbishop was dead, his heart was sorely
troubled in him. Never did he feel a greater sorrow for comrade
slain, save Oliver only. "Charles of France," he said, "come as
quickly as you may, many a gallant knight have you lost in
Roncesvalles. But King Marsilas, on his part, has lost his army.
For one that has fallen on this side there has fallen full forty on
that." So saying he turned to the Archbishop; he crossed the dead
man's hands upon his breast and said, "I commit thee to the Father's
mercy. Never has man served his God with a better will, never since
the beginning of the world has there lived a sturdier champion of the
faith. May God be good to you and give you all good things!"