AND THE LION ROARS.
LARGE tears coursed down the cheeks of Charlemagne, as he gazed sadly
on his nobles and knights, and asked himself if Heaven would permit such
heroes to fall ingloriously by the hand of a miscreant.
[Illustration: 068]
Oliver crossed himself, and rode at the giant. All trembled; Oliver
alone trembled not.
It is hardly necessary to say that the usual conditions of this class
of duel were, perforce, somewhat modified on this occasion, for they
forbade any blows except at the body, and permitted only cuts, not
thrusts. As Angoulaffre was six times the height of Oliver, it was
impossible they could be strictly adhered to.
The two combatants rushed at each other, and quickly disappeared in a
cloud of dust. Then came the clash of steel, which sent a chill to all
hearts. Was Could that be the noise of his fall? No! the dust cleared
away, and Oliver was seen firmly seated in his saddle at the end of the
lists, prepared for another course. His lance had broken the buckle of
Angoulaffre’s sword-belt. The huge weapon, in falling, had made a great
dent in the soil.
Frantic cries of “Hurrah for the brave knight!” rent the air.
“Charge!”
Again they dashed forward, and disappeared in the storm of dust. This
time, too, Oliver escaped unharmed; but the giant, confused by the
limited area of the lists, and miscalculating his distance, came down
full tilt upon the public gallery, his terrible lance made a deadly
passage through the crowd, and smashed the timber-work, which fell
in upon the sitters. In the crash Angoulaffre’s horse lost its
breast-piece.
Ganelon had never been so delighted. He hated Oliver, whose friendship
for Roland was proverbial. “This evening,” said he to himself, “these
boasters will sleep between four planks.”
[Illustration: 069]
Wolf was as pleased and malicious as Ganelon.
The Duke of Aquitaine, you must know, had been struck with Aude’s
beauty, and had demanded her hand; but Gerard de Vienne had rejected the
offer with scorn, and Oliver had said, with a laugh, “Go and ask Roland
for it.”
Wolf and Ganelon were made to understand each other: they did not fail
to joke together in a whisper while Oliver was doing battle.
Now Charlemagne was never particularly pleased to see people jesting
on such occasions, and he was not slow to perceive their smothered
laughter, and grew very angry at it. This sarcastic sniggering enraged
him. The words of Angoulaffre still grated in his ears, and he fancied
that he was the subject of pleasantry for his vassals. Turning round,
delighted at a chance of relieving his anger, he said to Ganelon and
Wolf--
“The wolf and the crow, Heaven help us! dare to laugh at the eagle! Has
he sunk so low that he must submit to this?”
“Nay, His Majesty must not misunderstand us thus,” said Wolf. “Our
recent submission to his commands should place our loyalty beyond
suspicion of that sort.”
“What, then, is the reason of this unwholesome pleasantry? When the wolf
is pleased, the shepherd should be on his guard.”
“An awkward blow of Oliver’s made us laugh,” said Ganelon, scowling at
the combatants.
“Oho! so that Gallant knight must serve you for a laughing-stock?
In truth, you would have done better to laugh at me. Am I no longer
Charlemagne? Did that miscreant say true? Because a giant dares look
me in the face, these dwarfs must snap at my heels! One of my bravest
knights undertakes, out of regard for me, an enterprise, the very
thought of which is enough to turn one’s head; he is in danger of his
life, and people dare laugh at him under my very eyes! You have done
ill, let me tell you; and, since the venture which Oliver undertakes is
such good sport, you shall, both of you, take part in it at once. Now,
raven!--now, wolf! to your prayers for this hero; for I swear by Heaven
you shall take his place in the field!”
Then, leaving Ganelon and Wolf dumb with confusion, Charlemagne resumed
his place. Angoulaffre and Oliver, who only awaited the monarch’s
return, ran another course. This time Ferrant d’ Espagne arrived alone
at the end of the lists. The giant had adopted surer measures.
He had couched so low in the saddle that his face had touched his
horse’s neck. Oliver, taking advantage of this, had thrust his lance
into his left eye, whereon Angoulaffre had seized him in his mighty
grasp, and had gripped him so hard, that his armour, bent and bruised,
forced itself into his flesh. Then the giant was seen to rise in his
saddle, and hurl the luckless knight to the ground, where he lay without
stirring, his armour broken, and bathed in blood.
[Illustration: 070]
Cries of horror resounded on all sides, but they were speedily drowned
by the shouts and music of the Saracens.
Charlemagne sat motionless, with his eyes fixed on the body of Oliver.
His bravest knights pressed round him, imploring him to send them to
fight the giant, but he did not hear them.
They brought a litter; the surgeons entered the lists, and soon the cry
was raised, “Oliver still breathes!” Then Charles roused himself, and,
with tears in his eyes, exclaimed--
“Blessed St. James! I have ever had full faith in you. Save this gallant
champion, and I promise you a chapel in the land of the Saracens. It
shall be so lovely, it shall be the envy of all the calendar.”
Then, turning to Ganelon and Wolf, he said, “Now, as for you, Count of
Mayence, and you, Duke of Aquitaine, if you do not accept the combat, I
swear by Heaven that to-morrow you shall be degraded from the order of
knighthood on the very spot where this brave knight has just fallen.”
“So be it,” said Ganelon, “‘twill be strange if we do not let you see we
are of as gallant and noble a lineage as your favourites!” and, followed
by Wolf, he descended into the lists.
[Illustration: 071]