DEATH OF HIM.
ROLAND heard no further. The insolence of the giant had aroused in his
heart one of those fits of fury which, when coupled with strength and
courage like his, nothing can resist. The dishonour done to Ganelon and
Wolf enraged him, for he no longer saw in them either rivals or unworthy
opponents. They were knights--they were Christians, and he felt a share
of the insult offered to them.
He sprang on the back of Veillantif, and dashed into the lists. A murmur
of applause saluted his entrance. People felt that the real struggle was
only now commencing, and that if Roland were vanquished there was no one
to take his place. The honour of the French name was the stake of this
contest.
Three pages ran to pick up the gauntlet which Angoulaffre had flung
down in defiance, and dragged it with difficulty into the middle of the
lists. Roland stooped, picked it up, and flung it in the giant’s face.
On receiving this insult the Saracen lost his self-possession, and gave
vent to an oath so terrible that all the assemblage crossed themselves.
You will not, therefore, be surprised, my friends, that I do not repeat
it, although it formed the entire speech of the Governor of Jerusalem.
He felt himself in the presence of an enemy worthy of him, and
understood that the time for words was gone by. As an habitual drinker
likes wine that is rough, warriors delight in foemen who smite hard.
This time the giant assumed his lance and his vast shield. The
spectators had not a drop of blood left in their veins, and many prayers
were breathed to Heaven for the success of the Christian knight.
The signal was given. The combatants dashed forward and encountered
half way. Angoulaffre had stooped down to await Roland, but he, with
superhuman activity, avoided the fearful blow which was aimed at him,
and struck his adversary on the face with his lance.
The spear lodged between two of his teeth and broke.
The greatest courage is often accompanied by little weaknesses.
The hero who sports with life on the battle-field will often shrink at
the sight of a spider. Angoulaffre, now, had a horror of a dentist--as,
my young readers, is the case, I conjecture, with most of you.
[Illustration: 075]
A decayed grinder had given him considerable pain for the last six
weeks. Imagine his rage, then, when he received a tremendous blow from a
lance on that particular tooth. He ceased to be a man--to be a giant:
he was a wild beast, mad with fury. He lost his presence of mind, which
until now had lent him double strength. Flinging aside his arms he flung
himself blindly upon his foe.
But Roland, whom danger never stirred, evaded him craftily, and harassed
him. He seemed to be playing with his formidable adversary. A deft
stroke severed the girths of Angoulaffre’s horse; the saddle turned
round; the giant lost his balance, and fell to earth amid shouts of
laughter from the spectators. Roland approached him, gave him his hand,
and assisted him to rise. Then he asked him if he required rest.
“I never leave a fight half finished,” said the giant; “but I am
thirsty, that is all.”
Charlemagne, hearing these words, ordered his pages to roll a hogs-head
of Spanish wine into the middle of the lists. Angoulaffre broached it
with one blow of his fist, emptied it at one draught, and then, flinging
the cask beyond the barriers, remounted his steed.
[Illustration: 076]
The combatants selected fresh spears, and, having taken their places
on the field, rode at each other once more. This time they smote one
another full on the breast. What a terrific crash, my young friends! No
ironclad of our day could have resisted it. Angoulaffre was driven back
on his horse’s crupper; he stuck his knees in so tight, to save himself
from a second fall, that the unhappy animal had all the breath knocked
out of its body. It was a misery to hear it cough.
Roland had bent beneath the stroke. His back had touched the crupper of
Veillantif, but the brave knight did not lose his seat. The spear had
glanced off his excellent armour from girdle to shoulder, and he escaped
unhurt, though the blood flowed from his mouth.
“I should be loth to kill so brave a knight,” said the Governor of
Jerusalem. “I offer you your life; take it at my hands.”
“I can accept nothing from you but blows,” said Roland, quietly;
“because I feel certain I can give you as good as I take, and perhaps
even throw in a little over.”
“As you please,” said Angoulaffre; and once more they resumed the fight.
The giant flung aside his lance, and took a battle-axe, the sight of
which gave the spectators a fit of cold shivers. Roland also laid aside
his spear, and drew Durandal from its sheath.
Veillantif seemed endowed with human intelligence. The brave creature
divined the slightest wish of its master. Now it bounded, now it scoured
the plain; anon it charged or it reared, and ever it went unhurt through
the shower of blows. The horse of the Saracen was not worth half of
Roland’s. Its size and weight rendered it difficult to manage. For some
minutes it coughed incessantly, and scarcely obeyed bit or spur. Roland,
by a clever turn, took the giant in flank, and with one blow of his
tremendous sword clove in two the horse of his opponent.
Angoulaffre came to earth, seated between the two severed halves of his
steed, and bellowing with astonishment and anger.
[Illustration: 077]
The Saracens had left off laughing now. Their music was silenced. Garlan
the Bearded, who commanded them, foamed with rage; he tore out a good
tenth of his beard by the roots. The Alcalde of Valentia foresaw the
fate of Angoulaffre, and was asking himself whether he and his men
should ever see Spain again.
Roland was loudly cheered; but, without taking any heed of it, he
dismounted, and, approaching the colossus, who had not yet regained his
feet, he said---
“Keep your seat, governor, and while you rest yourself, send some of
your warriors to me; there will then be no time lost.”
“May I be struck by a thousand thunderbolts, if I give you a moment’s
respite! Mount, and defend yourself!”
“I am not in the habit of taking any advantage in a combat. Since you
are dismounted, I will continue the contest on foot.”
During this conversation ten horses had drawn from the lists the remains
of Angoulaffre’s steed.
[Illustration: 078]
Then began a combat yet more terrible than any of its predecessors. The
marvel was how Roland escaped the rain of blows aimed at him; but the
bold knight managed so admirably, that he got close to the monster, and
cut off his right leg at the knee.
You will guess, my friends, how sad a figure the Governor of Jerusalem
cut with such a very ill-assorted pair of legs. He fell, biting the
ground with rage, and rolling to and fro in his attempt to rise, until
he wept at his own impotence. Roland approached him.
“You cannot continue the struggle. Your life is in my power. Accept
Christian baptism, and I will spare you.”
Angoulaffre, without answering, rolled himself to the place where his
axe had fallen, seized it, and cut off his left leg at the knee. Then
raising himself on his stumps, he gazed sternly at Roland, and said,
simply--
“I am ready!”
[Illustration: 080]
At the sight of this act of Spartan heroism both Christians and Pagans
applauded. Charlemagne himself was touched.
“Governor of Jerusalem,” said he, “desist from this useless struggle.
What greater proof could you give of your courage? Believe me, when you
appear again before your king in this guise, and tell him, ‘It is Roland
who has conquered me,’ you will not see him sneer at you.”
“You--you Christians, then--can live after the shame of having been
vanquished? That, and that only, is beyond our power. Behold, faint
hearts! You have seen how we can fight; see now how well we know how to
die!”
I will not, my dear young friends, relate to you the end of this fearful
conflict. It was no longer a battle--it was a butchery. Blows followed
one another without pause. Roland was covered with wounds; his armour
was hacked away piece by piece, but he did not give ground. He felt his
strength failing, and desired at any price to bring the contest to an
end. Without regarding the almost certain death to which he exposed
himself, he closed with his foe, and dealt him a tremendous blow, which
stretched him at his feet.
There was one short minute, during which the impressed spectators kept
silence. The respect which bravery always commands restrained the burst
of the general rejoicing; but, these first few seconds past, every one
felt himself relieved of an immense peril.
The sight of Roland, to whom Charlemagne had hastened, was the signal
for an outburst of frantic cheering from every side.
The king embraced his nephew, and said--
“I would reward you for so splendid a victory. What would you have? My
gratitude is unbounded: let your desire be without limit. Which of my
provinces shall I bestow on you?”
“I am yet more ambitious. When I wish to own a province, I will go win
it with my sword.”
“What would you have, then?”
Aude had just left Oliver, who had no longer need of her care. She felt
that the triumph of her lover would not be complete if she did not share
it.
Roland gazed at her so meaningly, that Charles turned to Gerard de
Vienne, and said--
“Here is an ambitious gallant, who seeks his reward at your hands. What
say you, Gerard, and you, Lady Guibourg? Does it not seem to you that
your niece will be fortunate in having for a spouse my friend and
nephew, Roland? I ask her hand of you for him.”
“Sire,” said Gerard, “it is doing us too great an honour.”
“Aude could not have a nobler husband than Roland, who comes of your
royal line, sire,” said the Lady Guibourg.
“I was not rich enough to satisfy this grasping soul,” replied
Charlemagne, “and I thank you, Gerard, for coming to my help. Ah!
Turpin, here is work for you. No other is worthy to celebrate such
nuptials as these. Have ready a splendid sermon for the occasion, for
the wedding shall take place on our return to Cologne.”
[Illustration: 081]