CHAPTER XVI. A FUNERAL MARCH.

THUS ended this brilliant passage of arms. Was I not right, my children,

when I told you that its equal was never seen?

The wounded Saracens were conveyed to hospital, and I need hardly

add, they were as well cared for as if they had been duly-baptised

Christians.

The dead were buried; they were sixty-three in number, neither more nor

less. There were, after this tournament, a great many thrones to let in

the East.

The surgeons declared that the wounded would not be fit to move for a

month at the very least.

Charlemagne loaded the survivors with rich gifts, and then, after

four or five days of rejoicing, he prepared to depart, leaving Fronsac

strongly garrisoned. He wished to spend Advent Sunday at a town

anciently called Durie, in the diocese of Julliers, and the Feast of the

Resurrection at the Cathedral of St. Lambert, in Liege.

When the Saracens were left alone, they determined, after a long

consultation, to inform King Marsillus without delay of the melancholy

fate of his envoys, and to bear to him the mortal remains of his son.

Nobody, however, cared to be the bearer of such tidings, and one and all

professed to suffer horribly from their wounds. In short, of all that

brilliant expedition, there were none left to perform this duty except

the band.

The solemn procession set out for Spain. The drums, covered with

mourning, preceded the hearse about twenty paces.

Thus it was that Murad Henakyeh Meimoumovassi re-entered his father’s

dominions!

[Illustration: 096]

END OF THE FIRST BOOK,

BOOK THE SECOND -- THE PROPHET’S PARADISE.

[Illustration: 099]

CHAPTER I. HOW CROQUEMITAINE WAS CHRISTENED.

IN turning over the last page, my young friends, you have grown nine

years older. You see time flies quickly when you read my writings. Do

I ask too much in begging you to make a hasty flight with me, in five

minutes, from the year 769 to the year 778?

Charlemagne, after having, as I said just now, performed his religious

duties at Duren and at Liege, returned to Worms at the beginning of the

year 770. There Miton and Mita were married, and there, subsequently,

the latter gave birth to a lovely little girl, who was called Mitaine--a

lovely little angel, plump and soft, with large black eyes, and golden

locks as bright as the glory of a saint. Charlemagne saw the infant one

day in its mother’s arms, and believed he beheld a vision.

“Surely,” said the good Emperor, “this is Our Lady with her holy babe!”

When he came nearer, he recognised the Countess of Rennes.

“You are too blest, Lady Mita. You are favoured of Heaven indeed.

It is not possible but that this little angel should bring good fortune

to all who approach her; and, if she has not already been christened,

I should like to be one of her sponsors. Would you wish me to be her

godfather?”

[Illustration: 100]

Charlemagne took one of the child s tiny hands, and kissed it, the

little arm disappearing entirely in the monarch’s bushy beard and

moustache.

Then, radiant with joy at this meeting, which he looked upon as a good

omen, the Emperor hastened to an assembly of the people that he had

convened. He was so happy and devoid of anxiety, that he yielded to the

intercession of his mother, Bertha of the Big Feet, who had long been

trying in vain to bring about a reconciliation between him and his

brother Carloman.

During this same year Himiltrude bore a son, who was charming in face,

but, unfortunately, deformed in figure. Charles christened him Pepin,

but the people nick-named him Hunchback; and when the populace takes

upon itself to act as sponsor, the names it gives do not die out.

This son and heir was not calculated to flatter the Emperor’s dignity.

His father did not receive him very favourably, and determined to

divorce Himiltrude.

Aude and Roland, less fortunate than Miton and Mita, were not yet

married.

“Sire, is it not time to celebrate our nuptials?” said the Count ot

Mans one day to Charlemagne. “For eight months I have been waiting your

pleasure, and I trust you will at last fix a day for the marriage.”

The Emperor had just had a dispute with his queen about the child, so

that he did not just then regard marriage very favourably. He did not

listen with a very good grace to his nephew’s entreaty.

“By my beard, I consider you’re in too great a hurry:--know that!

Your beard is scarce grown, and yet you want to be at the head of an

establishment. That is not what I consider proper. You have to make

a name for yourself before you think of transmitting it to others.

Besides, a man never fights so well if he has a wife and family; so

don’t bother my head any more about it. You are, both of you, young

enough to wait--wait!”

Queen Bertha, who had no more affection for her daughter-in-law

than Charles had for his wife set out for Lombardy to settle a fresh

alliance, and before long returned with Desiderade, daughter of Didier,

King of Lombardy. Himiltrude, I should add, was divorced, despite the

threats of the Pope, Stephen the Third.

Charlemagne spent his Christmas this year in Burgundy, and Easter at

Valenciennes, in Hainault.

The reconciliation of the brothers had never been more than a formal

one; so that when, about the second week in December, 771, Charles heard

of Carloman’s death at Samoucy, a royal palace in the old diocese of

Laon, he did not waste any time on tears. He called together a full

court at Valenciennes, announced to his lords the death of his brother,

and led them into Neustria. He encamped on the royal farms of Carbonac,

in the midst of the forest of Ardennes. The formidable appearance of the

forces he commanded induced the nobles and bishops to do fealty to him.

Gerberge, daughter of Didier, and widow of Carloman, endeavoured vainly

to assert her children’s rights. She was compelled to fly with them

and a few attendants, and seek refuge at the court of her father.

Charlemagne was then proclaimed sole ruler of all the realm of the

Franks.

Queen Bertha’s choice had not proved a very fortunate one. Desiderade,

sister of the dethroned Queen of Neustria, did not make a very sprightly

appearance at the Court of France, so Charles determined to get rid of

her.

Roland, who was ever lamenting the indefinite postponement of his

marriage, once more addressed his uncle on the subject.

“You do not intend, I am sure, sire, to do me a wrong, but you inflict

more suffering on me than I can express by thus perpetually adjourning

my union with Aude.”

[Illustration: 101]

Charlemagne, who had just been having high words with the queen, was not

favourably disposed to marriages. He replied, in an ill humour--? “Do

you want to drive me crazy, my fine nephew? Marriage is a folly, take

my word for it. Resides, I have a fancy to ravage the land of Saxony. I

hear that in a town they call Eresburg--I don’t know why--they worship

an idol named Irminsul, and I have set myself the task of burning this

impudent divinity. I count on your assistance. On my return we will talk

about your marriage.”

[Illustration: 102]

Roland went away sadly to find his Aude.

In the year 771, the Emperor spent Easter at Herstall, and Christmas at

Attigny. About the beginning of the year 772 he convened his nobles

at Worms, placed himself at their head, and invaded Saxony. This land,

subdivided into numerous petty states, was inhabited by Westphalians,

Osterlindsi, Sclaves, Hungarians. All these tribes were driven back

to the Baltic, their idols were destroyed, and their lands devastated.

Compelled to sue for peace, they came in and did homage 011 the banks of

the Weser.

Charlemagne, who was no less terrible to his wives than to his enemies,

got rid of Desiderade, his second queen, and determined to marry a

third. He was of this mind when Roland once more sought him.

“Sire, since you have given me encouragement to hope, I come to remind

you that I love Aude, the niece of Gerard of Vienna, your friend, and

that you have promised her to me in marriage as a reward for conquering

Angoulaffre. You desired me to follow you to Saxony, and I did so; no

one can say, surely, that I was sparing of my person in the campaign.

You have often spoken severely against marriage, but I understand you

have changed your views, since you are, for a third time, going to do

yourself what you used to say was bad for others. I am your sister’s

son. I have served you to the best of my ability, and every one agrees

that the ability of Roland is no trifle. Will you not please to fix a

day for my nuptials?”

Charlemagne was in a particularly good humour that day. He burst out

laughing at his nephew, and said--

“By my beard? and sceptre, I believe this youngster is going to set me

to school. My friend Ganelon was right when he had me beware lest this

rogue should lead me by the nose. So-ho! my warrior, have I not made you

Count of Mans and peer of the realm? Have not I granted you the Marches

of Brittany? And must I now reward you for the blows you have struck in

defence of your own precious hide? No, my fine nephew; I don’t approve

of people who try to force my game. Besides, I have a notion, after my

marriage, of making an excursion in the direction of Lombardy. You will

accompany me. When we come back we will see what is to be done.”

[Illustration: 103]

This year (772) Charles kept the festivals of Easter and Christmas at

Herstall, on the Meuse. About this period Didier, King of Lombardy,

invaded the states of St. Peter. Coming at the head of ten thousand

stout lances, he laid siege to Rome. Pope Adrian did not lose heart for

a trifle like that. He closed the gates of the Eternal City, carefully

inspected the walls, and manned them with troops, determined to perish

amid the ruins of his capital rather than surrender.

Then he sent a deputation of bishops and men of distinction to

Charlemagne, to remind the son of King Pepin that he was a Roman noble,

and that it was his duty to defend the Church in the person of

its supreme head. The Emperor was not desperately fond of his

ex-father-in-law, at whose court all his enemies found refuse. He had

lone meditated an expedition in his direction, and so, accepting with

joy this providential chance, he convened a full court at Paderborn. The

expedition was resolved on enthusiastically, and Geneva was chosen as

the rendezvous of the forces. The army was divided into two sections.

Bernard, Charlemagne’s uncle, had command of one column, with orders

to cross Mount Joux (St. Bernard), and open a campaign in the plains of

Milan, while the Emperor led his half of the army over Mount Cenis.

In vain did Adalgisus, son of Didier, attempt to defend the passes of

the Alps. He was everywhere repulsed, and was hemmed in at Pavia, where

his father joined him (October, 773). Pavia was then a castle, which

would well have deserved the reputation of being impregnable if it had

not (as is the case with all impregnable places) been taken several

times. Nevertheless, it displayed some coquettishness in the matter,

never permitting itself to be captured till after a wearisome war; for

it required no less than a whole winter to scale its walls, which were

seventy feet high, to carry its seventeen gates, and make oneself master

of its sixty-two towers.

[Illustration: 104]

Charlemagne went to Rome to spend the Holy Week. He entered it in

triumph on the 2nd of April, 774. A grand procession of bishops and

nobles went out to meet him at Novi, and accompanied him to St. John at

the Lateran, where Adrian waited to receive him. The crowd hailed him

as a preserver. He was surrounded by banners and crosses; people of

distinction vied for the honour of carrying his victorious arms; and

little children, dressed in ancient costume, strewed flowers in his

horse’s path. The Pope and the Emperor embraced, and the latter, after

having taken the sacrament, visited, attended by his suite, all the

sacred spots in the great capital of the Christian world.

A council was called, at which one hundred and fifty-three bishops and

priests assembled to assist the Pope in conferring on Charlemagne the

most extensive powers and privileges.

During this time famine was making fearful havoc in Pavia. Every day

people died of starvation in hundreds, but the town did not surrender.

Charlemagne was not one who liked to see work long about. He quitted

Rome and assumed the command of the army, and a few days after Didier

was forced to surrender. Neither his courage nor his submission could

appease the Emperor, and the conquered prince, his head sprinkled with

ashes, had to kneel to his new lord. The last of the Lombard kings

became a monk, and finished his days, under the name of Brother

Desiderat, in the monastery of Corbie. Ansa, his wife, the two sons of

Carloman, and Gerberge their mother, with Desiderade, the divorced

wife of the King of the Franks, all fell into Charles’s hands, and he

condemned them to the cloister. Lombardy was thus made the property of

the crown of France.

[Illustration: 105]

Aude and Mita had retired to Paris, where they awaited mournfully the

return of Roland and Miton. Here the Countess of Rennes gave birth to a

marvellously beautiful boy, who was christened Mitis. Never was a baby

made so much of. Nothing was good enough for him. The two women, left

to themselves, formed endless projects, and counted with impatience the

hours which seemed to pass so slowly. But one day the weeping attendants

made their appearance, bearing the dead body of the little cherub. They

related that a knight, with his visor closed, had attacked them and

snatched the child from his nurse; that, without regarding their cries

or supplications, he had made his way at full galop to a neighboring

stream, where he had dismounted, and, thrusting the child into the

water, had held it down with his foot for some minutes. Despite the

threats he uttered they came up with him, but too late. The monster,

having lifted the corpse ashore with his foot, remounted his horse and

fled.

[Illustration: 106]

The two sisters were for a long time like a couple of mad women. So

excessive was the grief of each that one might fairly have asked which

was the mother of the murdered babe.

Now it happened that on the day of the murder Ganelon had passed through

Paris on his way to Brittany.

The Saxons, taking advantage of Charlemagne’s absence, had invaded the

territory lying between the Rhine and the Weser. The Emperor, but just

returned from Lombardy, sent against them four formidable armies; then,

having held an assembly at Duren, he placed himself at the head of a

fifth column and crossed the Rhine (775). He made himself master of

Eresburg, and left a garrison there to hold it, and next defeated at

Brunsberg the masses of Saxons that endeavoured to stop his passage

of the Weser. He advanced as far as the Oder, cutting the Westphalian

forces into pieces on his route, and then marched back after having

reinforced the garrison of Eresburg, which was to serve as a prison for

his Saxon captives.

This year Hildegarde presented Charlemagne with a daughter, who was

christened Rotrude. The Emperor was so delighted with her that Roland

ventured to renew his request.

“Sire, you bade me share the campaigns in Saxony and Lombardy, and I did

my duty to the best of my power. Is it not time----”

“My dear nephew, spare your eloquence. I see you coming, and begin to

know your petition by heart. Well, by St. Nazaire! I will grant you the

request you press so warmly. In one month you shall be wed.”

Five days after they had to mount, and march for Italy again. Rotgause,

Duke of Friuli, and Adalgisus, son of Didier, had resolved to attack

Rome and Italy by sea and land (776).

Charles once more crossed the Alps, took Rotgause a prisoner, and,

having cut his head off, handed over the government of Friuli to one of

his French nobles, the Count Markaire. Then he set out for Worms.

One day the Emperor was riding at the head of his army, with Roland

beside him. They were marching alongside of a splendid corn land. The

reapers, terrified at the sight of the soldiers, had flung down their

sickles, and fled; but, their curiosity restoring them their courage to

some o o degree, they ventured to watch the column from a safe distance.

“Have you never, sire, envied the lot of these peasants?” asked the

Count of Mans.

Charles looked at his nephew in wonderment, thinking he was gone mad.

“When once their work is over,” continued Roland, “they return to their

homes to find a wife waiting on the threshold to embrace them, and a

bevy of children who storm them for kisses; while we----”

“I understand you, nephew mine. This is a new way of putting it that you

are trying, and if I let you have your talk out, it would infallibly

end in the old question, ‘When is the marriage to be?’ I am not more

hard-hearted than most people; and, by the mass! on my return---”

The Emperor paused. He had just caught sight of a whirlwind of dust a

long way off. By degrees the whirlwind lessened to a cloud--the cloud

turned into a horseman--the horseman proved to be Hugo of Cotentin.

[Illustration: 107]

The Count Palatine had spurred fast to tell Charles that the Saxons were

again in revolt, and were ravaging the banks of the Rhine.

Roland sighed. “Aude--dearest Aude!” said he, “shall we never be united

except in Paradise? If I thought so, I would hasten the period, and get

myself killed in the very next fight.”

But I should never finish my story if I were to relate to you all the

expeditions of Charlemagne against the Saxons. He was always crossing

the Rhine, sweeping away whole nations, receiving their submission, and

taking hostages; but scarcely had he turned his back before he heard the

growlings of a fresh eruption. You will learn all this from pages more

serious than mine. I will only add, that in 777 Charlemagne assembled

the Saxons and their rulers at Paderborn, and that a great many came,

and were baptised.

I must now resume my story.

Charlemagne is at Paderborn, surrounded by his Court. Hildegarde had

borne him a son, who received the name of Carloman. Aude was more lovely

than ever. Miton was now thirty-two, Mita twenty-seven, and Mitaine

eight. Oghris was growing old now. His coat was turning silvery. He now

required a long ten minutes to quarter an ox, but his claws were still

good. He had taken a mighty fancy to Mitaine; and often, when they had

tried to separate them, the lion had grown so thin, and the child so

melancholy, that they were compelled to abandon the idea.

The god-child of Charlemagne had often been made the aim of assassins,

and, without doubt, the same fate was intended for her that had befallen

her brother. But Oghris was always at hand, and the murderers had to

take to flight. On one occasion, however, one of them had not got off

quickly enough, and so paid the penalty for the others.

“Now, at last,” said Miton, “I shall understand the meaning of all

this!”

Unfortunately, the lion had not thought of this, and his victim was

reduced to such small fragments that nothing could be discovered from

them.

[Illustration: 109]

Charles flew into a great rage on hearing of the attempts to which his

god-child had, more than once, nearly fallen a victim.

“By Joyeuse! he who touches my god-child is a bold man. Tell me,

Mitaine, have you no indication to give me which might put us on the

track of this devourer of babes?”

“None, my lord; the monster appears and disappears as if by magic.”

“Well, be he fay, ogre, or vampire, I swear to Heaven I will deliver him

into your hands. But until it is in our power to hang, draw, and quarter

him, how shall we distinguish this monster, who wishes to devour you, by

name?”

“Let us call him Croquemitaine!”

“So be it. Well, then, Croquemitaine shall be hanged: take my word for

it.”

In the year 777 Charlemagne celebrated Easter at Nimègue.

[Illustration: 110]

CHAPTER II. THE KING OF BEAUTY,

ONE chronicle which I have discovered, and which is only known to me,

assures us that Charlemagne was devotedly fond of children. It was his

pleasure one day to call a couple of hundred of them together, in his

royalty of Paderborn, and say to them--

“You are the masters here, and my servants are at your disposal. Make

hay of all the flowers in my gardens, and my gardeners shall assist you.

Plan a dinner tremendous enough to kill my friend Guy of Burgundy with

indigestion, and my cooks are under your orders. Ransack my illuminated

books; and if by chance you tear them, Eginhard will restore them so

that it can’t be detected. Break the silver strings of the queen’s harp,

and they shall be replaced before she suspects mischief. Command, bully,

pillage, if you like, to your hearts’ content. There is but one thing

I forbid”--and Charles, knitting his great brows, spoke in a voice

of thunder--“one thing I forbid, do you hear? I forbid you to put

yourselves out of the way in the slightest degree.”

This speech was calculated to raise the wildest enthusiasm. In a moment

the palace was ravaged. Mad with liberty, the little folks rushed hither

and thither, pillaging everywhere at random, and to no purpose, like

silly butterflies. The happiness of being free to do what they pleased

was enough.

It was indeed a deafening tumult, an unequalled outburst of jollity.

They tore down the hangings; they broke open the aviaries; they

smashed the statues; they ransacked the sideboards; they tore up the

flowers--until, at last, by degrees, their impetuosity wore itself

out. At the end of an hour the children, left to themselves, and

having nothing more to destroy, could not invent any means of amusing

themselves.

When the Emperor returned he found his little visitors scattered

throughout the palace, tired, idle, and melancholy. Charles called them

all round him, and inquired if they, were all enjoying themselves.

The children hung down their heads without answering. He repeated the

question with the same result. At last Mitaine, more confident than the

rest, opened her mouth--

“God-papa--not to keep anything from you--we don’t know what to do, and

were never so bored in all our lives.”

“My children,” answered Charlemagne, “let this be a timely lesson to

you. In pleasure, as in war, everything goes wrong without a clever

commander. To play well, just as to fight well, you need a captain.

Choose some one who shall be general of your games; and, by my beard!

you will see that all will go well.”

“Beloved sire!” said the children, trooping round him, “choose our

general for us.”

“I will,” said Charles; “but you must at least promise me to obey him

whom I select.”

“We will! we will!”

Charles perceived a fair boy of twelve in the crowd; and, taking him

gently by the ear, he led him out, and presented him to his small

subjects.

“Here is the little king I offer you. Obey him as you would me; and as

for you, Joel the Fair, will you take my advice?”

“I permit you to offer it, cousin,” said the youngster, drawing himself

up grandly.

“Then, sire, since you deign to listen to me, accept this hint. Would

you rule without discomfort, sleep without fearing some evil dream, and

live at ease?”

“That would suit me nicely!”

“Well, then, Joel the Fair, make yourself beloved!”

“We will take care to do so,” said the boy, and immediately gave one

of his subjects a rare buffet for leaning too familiarly on his royal

shoulder.

Charlemagne withdrew to rejoin Eginhard, Theodulph, Leidrade, and

Alcuin, with whom he had shut himself up to work at his code of laws.

But he had hardly been in his closet half an hour when a great hubbub

was heard under the windows; shouts, laughter, and cries were mingled

together, and soon rose to such a pitch that the Emperor rose, curious

to see what was the cause of the tumult, and went to the window.

I can assure you, young people, that he was not a little astonished to

see Mitaine fighting with a big boy, whom she had just thrown down and

was kneeling upon.

“So, Master Joel, you have a strange way of ruling,” said Charles,

opening the window. “Is this the way in which you ensure the peace of

your dominions? What is the meaning of this?”

The tumult ceased. Mitaine released her victim, and Joel advanced and

addressed Charles.

“I must remind you, sire, that you promised us uninterrupted liberty,

and I have therefore some right to feel astonished when you interfere

with my kingdom. What would your Majesty say if the King of Saragossa

or of Persia were to question you about your doings in your own realm?

However, I have not forgotten that it is to you I owe my crown, and as

I am a gallant prince, I will consent to answer your questions. We had

determined to hold a tournament, and in order that it might be done in

a manner becoming my state, I first chose myself a court. It is

composed of those whom you see yonder, half-inclined to quarrel over

the scrag-end of a pie. I armed my knights--those are they on the lawn

yonder, where they are now holding gallant encounters, which will prove

to you I have chosen well. I improvised arms as I had invented knights.

The ladies chose their gallants. Mitaine was unanimously elected Queen

of Beauty, and she selected for her knight that big boy to whom she has

just been giving such thumps. The trumpets sounded, and I took my place

on the throne with a majesty that could not have failed to please you.

The jousts commenced, and all went well enough. Riolet received a blow

on the eye from Chariot, which lends quite a martial air to his visage;

Loys has had two teeth knocked out; and Ode has left two handfuls of

hair on the field.”

[Illustration: 112]

“We did not expect it to stop here when Berart, the chosen cavalier of

Mitaine, entered the lists. He presented himself proudly, and arrogantly

defied Odille, who, without disturbing himself, gave him a kick on the

shin, so dexterously applied that the unhappy youth lost heart and ran

away. At this sight Mitaine was transported with anger, and jumping

quickly down from her throne, she rolled the astonished and terrified

Berart in the dust; and then, turning on his opponent, upbraided him for

his cowardice--in short, you can see what has befallen poor Odille. For

my part, I abstained from placing any obstacle in the way of Mitaine’s

triumph. She was hitherto our queen by virtue of her rank and beauty:

now she has won the title by her courage also.”

[Illustration: 113]

Charlemagne laughed for seven minutes without stopping--so says the

historian--as he had never laughed before. Then he called his god-child

to him.

[Illustration: 114]

“By my sceptre! this is the conduct of a heroine, and you shall be well

rewarded. It seems to me that a triumphant march would be about

the right thing at this period. What thinks our brother Joel of the

proposal?”

“Excellently said, sire. Let there be a march of triumph.”

“There’s only one thing that puzzles me. If we crown Mitaine for her

valour, we shall have no Queen of Beauty.”

“By my beard, sire,” said little Joel, stroking his smooth, twelve-year

old chin, and aping Charles to the best of his ability--“by my beard,

sire, you are puzzled about trifles.” Then he went in search of his

friend Riolet, whose eye was getting blacker every minute.

“What do you say to a King of Beauty like that? It is but right that

both sexes should have their part in the triumph as usual.”

“What a philosopher he is!” said Charles, laughing till the tears ran

down his face. “Let Oghris be brought--he is the only animal worthy

to carry my courageous god-child. And you, rival and discomfited

knights--it is to you, Berart, and you too, Odille, that I am

speaking--go, conduct your conqueror in triumph. But now, what are we to

do with the King of Beauty, brother?”

Joel, without answering, called on four knights to volunteer, and placed

Riolet on their shoulders, the pain and confusion making him pull some

very strange grimaces. In this fashion the procession set out amid loud

laughter and cheering.

In the evening Charles took Miton aside with him, and said, “Learn, my

friend, that our Mitaine is not intended to wear a petticoat for long.

A sword will suit her hand better than a needle. The secret attacks from

which, thank Heaven, she has till now escaped unhurt may be renewed, and

I would fain have her under my own guardianship. I have an offer to make

to you, Count of Rennes. Give her to me for a page, and I will have her

brought up to the use of arms. I am greatly mistaken if I do not thus

rear a staunch supporter of my son.”

The offer was accepted, and from the next day Mitaine, to her delight,

took rank with the pages, whose male attire she adopted.

[Illustration: 115]

CHAPTER III. HOW THE EMPEROR CHARLEMAGNE SAW A VISION.

CHARLEMAGNE only took repose in order to give others an opportunity of

resting. The chronicles tell us that he used to break off his slumbers

four or five times during the night, rise, dress himself, and dispatch

some matters of business. At Paderborn he occupied a chamber on the

ground floor, and was often seized with the inclination to go down into

the park, where, being alone with his thoughts, he used to allow himself

to become lost in reverie.

One beautiful night in the spring he perceived in the heavens what

seemed like an immense causeway, paved with stars, which commenced

above the Gulf of Friesland and disappeared about the Galician frontier,

passing over Germany, Aquitaine, Gascony, and Navarre.

[Illustration: 117]

Little by little there seemed to him to glitter an unusual number of

luminaries; they increased in size, changed their forms, and began to

move all in the same direction from the northeast to the south-west,

and presently he beheld, moving across the heavens, crowds of armed

warriors. He had mistaken for stars the glint of the moon upon their

armour. For a whole hour troop succeeded troop; the horses, excited to

a mad ardour, galloped among the clouds, raising a dust of star-sparkles

with their hoofs. Then all became motionless as at first. The night grew

dark and silent, and Charles, lost in reflection, turned his eyes to

earth. The sight he saw froze for some seconds the blood in his veins.

It appeared like a moving light, which had assumed a human shape--a

lingering sunbank forgotten by the twilight, and animated by some

supernatural power. It advanced slowly, its outline showing clearly

against the darkness of the park. At last the Emperor could distinguish

a form more beautiful than is granted to the mortal inhabitants of the

globe. The figure spoke, and the air became laden with odours. Its

voice hushed the songs of the nightingales, who perched on the boughs to

listen.

“My son, why have you forgotten me?”

“My lord, who are you?” inquired Charles.

“I am St. James, the apostle, the brother of St. John the Evangelist.”

The Emperor fell on his knees.

“You called upon me at the tournament of Fronsac, and promised me a

chapel in exchange for Oliver’s life, and I heard you. Oliver lives, and

nine years have passed and still my bones lie in Galicia, forgotten by

Christians and given up to Saracens. You have led your legions to the

Roman shores, to the ocean, and to the Gulf of Friesland. One part of

Europe only have you omitted to visit: it is that where my bones are

laid, and to which you swore to me to make an expedition in my honour.

I am sent to you from above. If Heaven makes you the most powerful among

the mighty ones of earth, it is that you may accomplish its designs.

Arise, then; rescue my remains from profane hands, and open the route

for pilgrims to my shrine. Arm your brave Franks, Lombards, Saxons, and

Austrians, and march straight for the Saracens of Spain. I shall be with

you in danger, and by-and-by you will find me ready to conduct you to

Heaven.”

The vision vanished. Two hours later Eginhard, coming to seek

Charlemagne, found him still upon his knees in the park praying, with

tears in his eyes.

[Illustration: 116]

[Illustration: 120]

CHAPTER IV. HOW KING MARSILLUS SAW A VISION.

A SHORT time previous to the foregoing events, Marsillus had a vision at

Saragossa.

Come with me now to Spain, my young friends. Do not murmur, for there

exists nothing so lovely as Spain, unless it be “the terrestrial

paradise,” of which I am not in a position to form an opinion.

There the sandal-wood, the spikenard, the saffron, the ebony, and the

clove, the most extraordinary flowers, the most delicious fruits, all

grow wild. The streams prattle more gaily there than anywhere else,

joyfully sprinkling with dewy drops the ever-verdant banks. On all sides

trees, clothed with luxuriant foliage, provide shelter for the

most musical birds in the world. The choir numbers the tomtit, the

nightingale, the phoenix, the turtle-dove, and a thousand others. Must

I, at the risk of making your mouths water, mention a few of the fruits

of this marvellous land? What do you say to the fig, the grape, the

pomegranate, the almond, the lemon, the pine-apple, the olive, and

the orange? And the flowers!--clumps of roses everywhere, lilies,

chrysanthemums! Here, grow ox-eyes; there, spring violets; yonder bloom

the narcissus and the balsam. The cool brooklets, abundant and limpid

as glass, flow over pebbles as bright as crystal and topaz. There are

gardens like those of Persia, minarets like those of Bagdad, a blue sky’

like that of no other part of the world. The nights are so delicious,

one is sorry to go to sleep. Everywhere are seen wealth, beauty, joy,

and plenty! Such is Spain.

All this, however, was ruined by the presence of the Saracens.

Marsillus was taking a nap. He was lying on cushions of priceless

material. The pavilion in which he had sought repose was of stained

ivory, inlaid with gold. In the midst a joyous fountain diffused

coolness around it; while an incense, compounded of musk, ambergris,

and camphor, made into a paste with distilled otto of roses, burning in

marble bowls, filled the air with sweetness.

All at once the daylight turned sickly pale. A chill like that of

the tomb succeeded the agreeable coolness and the perfumes yielded to

sickening odours like those of the grave. The flowers faded; all that

was brightest became dull and tarnished; and a corpse came and seated

itself beside the King of Saragossa. It scarcely retained the human

form, being made up of shreds and rags of flesh, and rendered only the

more hideous by the gay robes in which it was enveloped.

“My father!” said the corpse, “have you, then, forgotten me?” Marsillus

opened his eyes, uttered a shriek, and, after gazing round vainly

for some way of escape, sank back motionless, with haggard eyes and

bristling locks, and bathed in a cold sweat.

[Illustration: 121]

“Is it thus you receive your son, after a separation of ten years? Open

your arms to me, beloved monarch, for I hunger for your embrace!” On

seeing Murad approaching him, the terrified Marsillus sprang to his

feet, and strove to get out of his way, but in vain. The corpse caught

him in its arms, folded him to its bosom, which cracked in a ghastly way

with the force of the hug, and “covered with cold and clammy kisses the

face and white locks of the King of Saragossa, on which they left gory

stains!

“Leave me--depart!” shrieked the old man. “What have I done to you, or

what would you have me do?”

“I would be avenged on Roland of France.”

“I will avenge you, Murad. But now leave me, if you do not wish me to

perish on the spot.” And Marsillus, putting forth all his strength,

freed himself from the embraces of his son, and rushed to the other end

of the chamber.

“In truth, my lord, you are not altered. As I left you nine years ago I

find you now. You have just asked me two questions. I will answer them.

You have asked what I would have you do? To that I answer, Avenge my

death! I would see this accursed Roland and his friends punished in

a way that should never be forgotten by the rest of mankind. I am

astonished that so affectionate a father and so just a king should have

been so long thinking about vengeance. Your other question was, ‘What

had you done to me?’ Those words, by the Prophet! should have died away

on your lips; but since your conscience does not assist your memory, I

will take its place. You do not question, of course, my dear lord, that

death reveals everything to us? One has reason to complain of it not so

much because it takes us from this world, as because it places the past

before us in naked truth--brings in review before us all our errors

and our beliefs--and teaches one, for instance, that one has had such a

father as you.”

Marsillus dug his nails into the wall, against which he had placed his

back, as if he would fain scoop out for himself some place of refuge.

Murad continued:--“While I was a child, happily for me, I did not occupy

any place in your life; but from the hour when you saw me return the

conqueror of the lioness and her cubs, you began to keep an eye on me. I

grew up under your personal superintendence, and if the queen, Hadrama,

my mother, had not at times pressed me to her bosom, I believe I should

have become a wild beast, and not a man. My name became famous; the

prodigies of my valour, my wisdom, and bravery won you many kingdoms. In

a short time I had doubled your empire. Your jealousy increased with

my fame, until, unable to look undazzled at the glory of my renown, you

determined to make away with me. From that moment I had to encounter

a thousand plots--a thousand treacheries, over which I triumphed by a

miracle, but of which I never once suspected the origin.”

Marsillus would fain have denied this, but his voice stuck in his

parched throat.

“Your slaves one day found a huge snake, a venomous monster, which they

at once slew. It was a female, and would have left twenty little ones to

lament her loss if you had not considerately ordered the destruction of

the whole family. The father alone escaped. Once in possession of this

little stock of poison, you asked yourself how you could best dispose

of it, and being neither selfish nor thoughtless--you see, I do you the

fullest justice--you were not long in remembering me. Your creatures

took the twenty young snakes and scattered them from their nest to my

room, where they concealed the mother’s body under my bed. As soon as

night came, the male snake traced from corpse to corpse the path you had

so obligingly mapped out for him, and, full of fury, arrived almost

at the bed where I was sleeping. I will spare you the recital of what

followed, for it would wring your heart. All I have to observe is, that

on my making my appearance before you next day, you knitted your brows;

you were even put out when I laid at your feet the two serpents, one

only of which owed its destruction to me. It was fortunate for you that

on the previous night I had struck one of your slaves, for it was at

once decided that he had attempted to revenge himself on me, and, in

your anxiety to see me righted, you sliced his head off before he had

time to utter a word in defence.”

[Illustration: 123]

[Illustration: 124]

“I shall only briefly recall to you the horse, which, maddened with some

noxious drench, almost leaped with me into a bottomless abyss.

Thanks to Allah, I did not lose my self-possession, and gave the animal

such a blow behind the ear with my fist that he dropped lifeless,

sending me rolling within a few paces ot the gulf which you had intended

for my grave. Next day, on rising, I beheld a startling sight. You

had, in your stern sense of justice, ordered the impalement of all

my faithful grooms, who were devoted to me, and you replaced them by

creatures of your own.”

Marsillus hid his face in his hands.

“Finally, after ten years spent in futile efforts to get rid of me, you

determined to send me to the French tournament, where I met my death.

Now I might certainly desire, and insist, that you should pay dearly for

your past vagaries; but I offer you pardon, and only ask one thing in

return; but that I must and will have.”

Marsillus raised his head.

“Angoulaffre, Priamus, Corsablix, and all the other victims who shared

my fate, speak to you with my lips. We demand the death of Roland and

the knights of Charlemagne. Swear to avenge us!”

“I swear!” murmured the old man.

“Give me your hand on it!” And Murad strode towards him. But at that

Marsillus shouted so lustily, that his guards rushed in. They found

the King stretched on the ground, his robes dishevelled, and his lips

uttering disconnected sentences.

“Don’t leave me!--don’t leave!” he cried, dragging himself to the feet

of the guard. “I have seen Murad! He calls for vengeance! His kisses

have chilled my very marrow. You won’t leave me?--promise me you won’t!

If you do, I’ll have you all put to death!”

The most experienced physicians were at once sent for. They agreed

that His Highness was suffering from brain fever. But as nobody had the

courage to convey this intelligence to His Majesty, no attempt was made

to cure him; to which circumstance he owed his recovery.

By degrees the dreadful scene vanished from his mind, and in a month he

had almost forgotten it.

[Illustration: 125]

“Go to war at my age!” said the King to himself. “What nonsense!

I have the finest kingdom in the world. Charlemagne leaves me alone: why

should I provoke him? Not I, i’faith! I must have had a bad dream, and

I must mind I don’t get an unpleasant waking-up by going to tweak

Charlemagne by the beard. Sleep sweetly, Prince Murad, and let me live

in peace!”

From that time Marsillus never passed a day without receiving a visit

from his son. He had a guard constantly in his presence, but it was no

use.

Then he tried to discover some means of ridding himself of this

frightful spectre; and, at length, one night determined to await its

approach resolutely, yataghan in hand.

Murad came as usual, and approached his father; but he, with four blows

of his sword, sliced off the head, legs, and arms of the corpse. Then he

breathed more freely. But the head immediately burst out laughing, while

the right arm politely picked up the weapon Marsillus had let fall, and

handed it to him.

“Take this yataghan, sire; it is one I wore for a long time--the one, in

short, you gave me as a boy. Have you forgotten it?”

[Illustration: 126]

The King, more driven to his wits’ end than ever, tremblingly flung his

son’s limbs into a mat, and tied the four corners together. Then he ran

at full speed into the garden, accompanied by roars of laughter from the

head, which did not cease to move as he bore it. Arrived at the end of

the park, he dug six deep holes; put the head in the first, the right

arm in the second, the left arm in the third, the right leg; in the

fourth, the left leg in the fifth, and the trunk in the sixth. Then he

threw the earth in upon them, and ran in again, without daring to look

behind him.

Marsillus by this means gained a month’s respite. But, at last, the

Sultana one day begged him to accompany her to the bottom of the

grounds, where she had discovered some unknown description of flowers,

which gave out an odour so sweet, it was almost impossible to tear

yourself away from them when once you had gone near them. The King

refused with such evident horror, that the surprised Hadrama only

persisted the more, and he had to give way. As he approached nearer,

his blood froze in his veins; his eyes were blinded with mist; his teeth

chattered horribly. Walk slowly as he would, he _must_ at last reach the

terrible spot where his son’s remains were concealed.

[Illustration: 127]

On arriving there, the Sultana said, “See how thick the turf is! Did you

ever see anything like it?”

To the terrified Marsillus it seemed as if human hair was growing and

covering the ground on which he trod.

“Is there anything more delicious than the scent of these flowers?” But

Marsillus could only smell the foul odours of a grave.

“See what flocks of birds perch in the branches! Hark! how sweetly they

sing!”

But Marsillus seemed but to hear a laugh that came from under the

ground. He saw that the leaves of this strange tree were shaped

like human tongues, and when the breeze shook them, low’ voices

murmured--“Revered sovereign, avenge my death!”

The King of Saragossa fell on his knees and to his prayers. The big

tears ran down his white beard. “Sow sin, and you will reap remorse!” he

exclaimed, with his eyes fixed on the earth.

The next day he called together his nobles, and announced to them his

intention of avenging the death of Murad!

[Illustration: 128]

CHAPTER V. THE TWO ALCALDES.

MARSILLUS commenced his address in the following words:--

“May Allah enlighten you, and shed his glory on you, for I have

assembled you to a council. Listen to this brief recital, and give me

your opinion on it.

“A lion, full of youth and strength, was gaping and yawning enough to

put his jaws out of joint. He had done nothing for the day, but yet,

wholly given up to idleness, he stretched himself on the warm sand,

roasting first one side and then the other in the hot rays of the sun.

An ant happened to pass close by him, painfully dragging a small fly.

Seeing such great labour bestowed on so small an object, the lion burst

out laughing. ‘It is not very becoming in you to make a jest of me,’

said the toiler, without ceasing from his task; ‘I am weak, but I make

full use of the little strength Heaven has given me, while you, who

might do anything, are giving way to slumber before you have earned it

by fatigue. Leave off smiling, for you are in the wrong. I am stronger

and braver than you. Remember, ‘a busy ant does more than a dozing

lion.’”

Mahomet, who was leaning on a cloud, and happened to hear them, greatly

approved of the ant’s remarks.

[Illustration: 129]

“By the divinity of the Ka’abah, by the shrine of Mecca, are not we like

this lion? We pass our lives in sloth and luxury, while the ruler of the

Franks is hard at work extending his dominions. The day before yesterday

he was in Aquitaine--yesterday he was in Lombardy--to-day he is in

Saxony--to-morrow he may be in our kingdom. But do you, the sons of

those whom Mussa led along the banks of the Rhone and the Saone--do

you feel inclined to sit still and wait his coming? If, gorged with

prosperity, you have forgotten the past, the people of Nimes and Arles,

of Narbonne and Bordeaux, of Toulouse and Chalons, do not forget it

when they gaze on their ruined cities, their desolated cathedrals, their

overthrown fortresses. Children of Alsamah, of Abdel-Rahman, Ambissa,

and Marsufle, have at the descendants of Charles Martel, Eudes, and

Pepin! If these victorious names do not make your hearts leap, will they

quail at the recollection of our disasters at Poitiers? The bones of

our sires enrich French soil--the harvests the Franks reap have been

fattened by the blood of our bravest, which fed the fields. They are

ours, but we have been robbed of them. Let us go and win them back

again!”

The assembly received this harangue with terrific cheering. Shouts,

observations, threats, and warnings were mixed in such inextricable

confusion that Marsillus did not know what to listen to. He remarked,

however, that two of his emirs held themselves apart and maintained

silence. When the tumult had subsided, he beckoned to them to draw near.

“Why do you keep aloof instead of sharing in the general enthusiasm?

Answer, Abiathar--answer, Ibn al Arrabi. You are generally more lively

when there is a prospect of war.”

“Sire,” said Abiathar, the Alcalde of Huesca, “I grieve to behold you

undertaking an enterprise which will bring you no credit.”

A threatening murmur ran through the assembly.

“This is a fearful responsibility you take on yourself,” said, in his

turn, Soleyman Jaktan Ibn al Arrabi, Alcalde of Saragossa. “Is it not

possible you may have reason to repent having called down upon yourself

the wrath of the King of the Franks?”

This speech caused such an outburst of anger, that some of Marsillus’s

knights drew their swords and threatened the lives of the two emirs.

“Verily, I feel no gratitude to you,” said the King of Saragossa. “I

hope I may attribute the cowardly expressions you have just uttered to

your increasing years!”

[Illustration: 130]

“In spite of our age, we lack neither strength nor valour,” said

Abiathar, who turned a ghastly white with sheer rage; “and we prove

that, I think sufficiently, by having the courage to talk reason to

madmen!” Several chiefs rushed at them with drawn swords.

“We don’t in the least lack strength,” said Ibn al Arrabi, as he seized

one of the most violent of his assailants by the throat, and flung

him twenty paces away. “Any one who doubts it can easily try the

experiment.”

Marsillus descended from his throne, and placed himself between the

contending parties.

“Do you,” he said to his knights, “reserve your ardour for a more

fitting occasion. I thank you for having proved that I was right in

relying on your support. As for you, Abiathar, and you, Ibn al Arrabi, I

feel obliged to you for your frankness. But your prophetic powers will,

of course, have enabled you to guess that I shall confide the defence of

Huesca and Saragossa to others. Having, then, no office under the crown,

you will be enabled to hear without regret the plans about which you are

so full of caution and prudence.”

With that he gave them the signal to withdraw. The two emirs bowed and

departed. One month after they presented themselves at the Court of

France.

CHAPTER VI. CHARLEMAGNE IN SPAIN.

[Illustration: 131]

ABIATHAR and il Ibn al Arrabi found Charlemagne at Paderborn, where he

immediately accorded them an audience.

“Sire,” said Abiathar, “we come, accompanied by a hundred followers, to

do homage and service to you. The report of your unrivalled glory has

reached even us, and we have arrived at the conclusion that he who

accomplishes so many great things must be the favourite of Heaven. We

have studied in secret the teachings of your faith, and we have found in

them the springs of truth and virtue. They have, in short, convinced us,

and inspired us with an ardent wish to become Christians. We would then

strive to make proselytes, and, trampling the crescent under foot, would

raise the cross on high. Martyrdom in our case almost preceded baptism.

Marsillus is in pursuit of us, and has commanded that when taken we

shall be subjected to the most hideous tortures. But Heaven has been our

aid. We have escaped the executioners who were on our track, and here

we are at the feet of the most powerful monarch in the Christian

world, asking of him to baptise us!” These falsehoods made the greatest

impression on Charles.

“We come, moreover, sire,” said Ibn al Arrabi, “to announce to you that

Marsillus is busily preparing a religious war, and is ready to invade

your realms. We do not bring, it is true, the ordinary gifts of

envoys--gold, jewels, and fine merchandise; but we do what is better, we

bring you Spain as a present. The chief people of Huesca, Valentia, and

Saragossa are yours. These cities are devoted to us, and wait but

our signal to tear down the crescent and erect the cross. We announce

ourselves from this moment to be vassals of the Crown of France, and

we undertake to show to you the only four practicable passes of the

Pyrenees which exist--those of Barcelona, Puycerda, Pampeluna, and

Toulouse. The Christians in Aragon, Castille, and Leon, are ripe for

revolt. At the first hint they will descend from the inaccessible

fastnesses in which they find shelter, to join your triumphant armies.

In Asturia and Catalonia the standard of the cross is ready to be

displayed. Call together, therefore, a large army, and hasten to

anticipate the measures of those who wish to take you by surprise.”

Charlemagne was so delighted that he clasped the two emirs in his arms,

and kissed them on the cheek and chin. Subsequently he presented them

to his peers, knights, and bishops, and invited a new recital of the

intelligence they had brought him. They acceded to his request.

“It is St. James who has sent them,” said the Emperor; adding, “he shall

not have to wait, I swear by Our Lady!”

The war had been resolved upon more than a month, when the two alcaldes

arrived at Paderborn. They soon beheld the forces which Charles had

called together marching in from all quarters.

You must know, my young friends, that the nobles who held fiscal

territory--that is to say, belonging to the Crown lands--were bound to

hold themselves always in readiness for warfare, to present themselves

at the first summons, with their contingents of men-at-arms, at the

place where the sovereign ordered them to assemble. Charlemagne had

never made such gigantic preparations as he did for this Spanish

expedition. He called together the whole of his faithful vassals

of Neustria, Burgundy, Austrasia, Germany, Bavaria, Septimania, and

Provence; he even summoned the Lombards, although they had only just

been reduced to submission.

It was the beginning of spring, a time which the Emperor thought

favourable for commencing his campaign. He set out for his country

estate of Casseneuil, in Poitou, whence, after celebrating Easter, he

marched to Spain at the head of the most wonderful army he had ever led.

The two Saracens, who were present at the inspection of this vast force,

were astounded at it. There passed before them two hundred thousand

soldiers, armed in a hundred different styles, according to the fashion

of the country from which they came,--and they had come from every part

of Europe. Then followed the machines of war--towers, balistæ, onagri, *

scorpions, and catapults. Next rode the paladins, the nobles and knights

of the realm, followed by the bishops, priests, and clerks of the

Chapel Royal. When Charlemagne appeared, clad in his panoply of war, the

Saracens shook with terror.

* Onagri were machines which discharged large stones.

Scorpions flung showers of arrows darts, and small missiles.

“All is over with Spain,” said they, shedding abundant tears. “What

people, what cities, what fortresses could resist such armies? An iron

tempest is about to burst over the heads of the children of the Prophet.

What could we do in this world after that? Let us return and die in the

land that gave us birth.”

And the Saracens, without waiting to see the end of the spectacle, rode

off at full gallop. At a later period they were recognised among the

slain before the walls of Saragossa. The Emperor divided his army into

two columns. One, consisting of the Lombards and Austrasians, marched

from narbonne under the command of Count Bernard, entered Spain at

Perpignan, marched along the coast to Barcelona, and overran Catalonia

as far as the Ebro. The second column, composed of the flower of the

army, knights and nobles, and commanded by the Emperor in person,

crossed the Pyrenees from Gascony and Navarre, and sat down before

Pampeluna, whither in his turn came Count Bernard.

The siege lasted three months, and was carried on, with great losses

on both sides, until one day Charlemagne, being at prayers, petitioned

Heaven to allow him, since he had entered Spain for the glory of the

Christian faith and the destruction of the Saracen race, to take this

stronghold of the infidels, which he would purify, and where sacred

chants should rise instead of incense offered up to false deities.

“Saint James,” said the Emperor, “if it was really you who appeared to

me--if I have rightly obeyed the orders you gave to me--intercede for me

that I may win this city.”

He rose, comforted in his mind, ordered an assault, and on that day

Pampeluna fell. One hundred thousand Saracens received baptism; all who

wished to persist in error were put to death.

The Franks marched along the banks of the Ebro and laid siege to

Saragossa, which made as stout a resistance as it could; but it was

fated to fall, as Pampeluna had done. The Saracens, growing alarmed at

Charlemagne’s success, submitted. Alcaldes and emirs came in from all

sides to render homage to the Frank monarch; even those who could not

come sent him hostages and tribute.

Charles overran the whole of the north of Spain with his victorious

army. From Catalonia to Galicia, and extending to the line of the Ebro,

he was everywhere received by, rather than took possession of, cities

and fortresses. Arriving at Compostella, he paid a devout visit to the

sepulchre of St. James, according to his promise, and had baptised there

those of the Galicians who had forsaken the faith of their forefathers

for the service of Mahomet. He established priests of the Holy Church

in all the chief towns of Spain, and assembled in the month of July

a council of sixty bishops and a parliament of peers, by whom it was

decided that all the archbishops, bishops, kings, and princes of Spain

and Galicia, present or future, should recognise the authority of the

Archbishop of Compostella. The church was dedicated to St. James, Turpin

officiating. It was endowed by means of a tax of four deniers per annum

imposed upon the innkeepers, and was released from all feudal service.

The King also declared it to be his wish that all the bishops of the

country should be ordained, and all the kings crowned, by the archbishop

of the diocese.

In this way the King discharged his obligation to the saint. This done,

he pursued his route to the southern extremity of Spain, now known as

Cape Finisterre. There, finding he could advance no further, he flung

his lance into the sea, and returned thanks to Heaven and St. James for

having aided him to bring his expedition to a successful issue. The gold

and silver which the Emperor brought back with him from Spain enabled

him to restore and found many churches--to wit, one to Our Lady at

Aix-la-Chapelle, and also of St. James; a second of St. James at

Beziers; a third at Toulouse; a fourth in Gascony, between the village

of St. Jean de Sorgeat and Ax; and, finally, one at Paris, between the

Seine and Montmartre, of which nothing remains but the lofty tower known

as the St. James’s Shambles. The Emperor divided his new provinces into

two Marches, called those of Septimania and Gascony. The first, which

consisted of Catalonia proper, had its capital at Barcelona; the second,

embracing Navarre and Aragon, had Saragossa as its seat of government.

To Louis of Aquitaine, Charlemagne’s son, was committed the task of

keeping the country in submission as far as the Ebro.

[Illustration: 134]

[Illustration: 135]

CHAPTER VII. THE TRAP.

MITAINE had followed Charlemagne into Spain. She was now so skilful in

the use of her sword that her want of strength was not noticeable.

She rode well, and easily bore the weight of hauberk and suit of mail,

casque and greaves of steel. She only needed wings to be so like, as

to deceive the spectator, one of the armed cherubs who accompany the

Archangel Michael.

Charlemagne, who had not forgotten the attacks of which Mitaine had

more than once been the object, gave her a command of twenty men, under

pretence of rewarding her for her good services. It was, in reality, a

body-guard which he established about her.

From this moment, then, please to picture to yourselves our fair young

friend marching proudly at the head of her twenty veterans.

The precaution was a wise one. It happened, however, that Mitaine one

day wandered forth beyond the bounds of the camp. Night overtook her

in a forest, which, however lovely by daylight, was not at all an

inspiriting spot at night. She dismounted in the midst of a glade, where

she resolved to await the return of day rather than venture further.

It was so dark that the Old Gentleman himself--sharp-sighted as he

is--could not have seen his tail before him or behind him.

Mitaine stretched herself on the sward, sleeping with one eye and waking

with the other. Before lone the moon showed herself above the horizon,

but her light could scarcely penetrate the thick foliage, and only

lighted imperfectly some portions of the thicket.

Mitaine heard approaching footsteps, and was instantly on the alert.

“What a fool I am!” she said to herself, after listening for a few

seconds; “it is my horse trampling on the broken branches.” Again she

heard it: it was impossible for her to close her eyes. All was now

silent, but the silence alarmed her more than the noise. Three times she

called her steed--“Vaillant, Vaillant, Vaillant!” A distant neigh was

the only response. She rose and went on tiptoe to inspect the spot where

she had tied up her horse, but her horse was gone. Then she fancied she

could make out under one of the trees a human form--a little further off

another,--a third--in short, she counted eight. She saw them move, and

come towards her in a circle, which narrowed every moment. She drew her

sword, and rushed on them; but soon found herself seized by powerful

hands, which grasped her like a vice. Nevertheless she did not lose

heart, but began to fight and struggle, to bite and hit out to such

effect that, if the night had been less dark, one might have seen a

writhing mass of human forms struggling fearfully. Every time when they

thought they held her prisoner she contrived to break loose. It was no

easy work for the attackers or the attacked, for none of them could see

a bit. One would have declared it was blind men quarrelling over their

booty.

“Why don’t you use your weapons?” said a sinister voice. The speaker was

merely a spectator of the combat.

“It is easier to say use your weapons than to do it,” answered one of

the ruffians. “One can’t see a bit, and the young demon goes on so that

we don’t know how to get hold of her.”

Mitaine continued to lay about her on all sides until one of her

opponents cried out, with a fierce oath, “Curse the girl! she has

stabbed me in the eye!” And the wounded man in his fury, listening only

to the voice of rage, struck out wildly and hit one of his comrades,

whereupon ensued a general _melee_, of which the young girl availed

herself to escape.

“Farewell, Croquemitaine!” she cried; “he will have to be swift of

foot who overtakes me in running.” But instead of making her escape she

climbed into a tree, and hid herself among the branches.

“Follow her! I swear by the Evil One that I’ll hang every one of you if

she escapes!”

Mitaine now heard her enemies groping among the underwood, trying the

holly and juniper bushes with the points of their swords, until at last

the sound died away, and she heard no more. However, she determined on

remaining in her place of concealment until dawn.

“I shall know how to recognise you this time, Master Croquemitaine! One

of your fellows has lost an eye, and I have noticed that they have a

Westphalian accent,” said the brave girl, as she reached the ground. “If

Heaven conducts me safely to the camp of my royal sponsor, you shall be

uncloaked, I will promise you on my faith!”

She knelt down, breathed her matin prayer, and resumed her way, trusting

to Providence to recover her right path. When she had walked for about

an hour she heard distant shouts, and the blast of a horn.

“Who can tell what I may have to encounter now? Prudence is not

cowardice; so I had better conceal myself, and reconnoitre.”

Again Mitaine climbed into a tree, and watched. Before long she saw a

party of soldiers approaching, exploring the forest, beating the bushes,

and shouting to the full extent of their lungs. She then heard her

own name, and recognised her father, who, in great alarm, headed the

searchers in person. She was not long in descending from her perch, I

assure you. How delighted she was to fling herself into Miton’s arms!

For a minute they occupied themselves in exchanging embraces and broken

sentences, to which neither thought of listening, and which had to be

begun afresh as soon as the first outbreak of joy was over. The Count of

Rennes related his fears at not seeing his beloved child return on the

previous evening, his alarm when Vaillant returned home alone, and how

he had spent the night in searching the forest. Having said thus much,

he allowed his words to give place to renewed caresses.

[Illustration: 139]

When they were once more on the move, Mitaine informed her father of the

dangers she had escaped. She also recited her adventures to Charles.

The Emperor listened attentively, and then said to Miton--

“Count of Rennes, send out in every direction, and bid them bring before

me, dead or alive, all the one-eyed men within ten leagues round.”

Bodies of cavalry were dispatched in every quarter, and acted with

such vigour, that by the next morning early forty blind men awaited

His Majesty’s inspection. They were of all races--Franks, Jews, and

Saracens. Charles examined them carefully; and when he had rejected

those who seemed to him to have been blind for a long period, or

those whose presence in camp for two days past was established on good

evidence, he remarked, with great astonishment, that there only remained

ten men in the livery of the Count of Mayence, and that they were all

recently wounded in the right eye. The emperor knit his brows, and sent

for Ganelon.

“Prithee, friend, can you explain to me how it is that all your men here

have become blind since yesterday, and all of the same eye, too?”

“Nothing can be more simple. Because I am short-sighted.”

“You dare jest with me!” shouted the Emperor, with a voice of thunder.

“Heaven preserve me if I should!” said the count, with a low reverence.

“Your Majesty will perceive that there is nothing in this at all

unnatural. Having very weak sight, I am always seeking for anything

that will strengthen it. I have tried all remedies, and have found only

quacks in France. One physicked me; another bled me; a third invoked the

devil; a fourth sent me to take the waters at Aix-la-Chapelle----”

“Speak no evil against those waters!” interposed Charlemagne, who

frequently had recourse to them, and believed in them firmly.

“Some put the bones of St. Ursula on my eyes; others wished me to remain

for five years in complete darkness. I had quite given up all hope of

any good results, when chance flung in my way a Saracen more learned

than Esculapius, or even Hermes Trismegistus himself. This wise person

explained to me that in all things it was necessary to make the most of

your powers; that I had only a certain strength of vision to dispose

of, and that in dividing it between my two eyes I employed it without

profit. It would be better for me to have one eye that saw as well as

two, than two eyes which only saw as well as one; and he recommended me

to have one eye put out. His discourse appeared to me so full of logic

and common sense, that I gave him his freedom.”

“But that does not explain----”

“One moment’s patience, sire. The remedy appeared to me good, but

extreme; and I confess I hesitated, for fear of committing a mistake

which would be irreparable. It was then that I sent for these objects

that you observe: they all complained of being short-sighted. I deprived

them of their right eyes----”

“And--?”

“They can’t see any better now than you and I!”

“Speak for yourself, count. If you are short-sighted, I have a tolerably

keen vision. It would serve you right, by St. James! if I were to have

both your eyes put out for telling me such absurd nonsense. Now, I

am neither an Esculapius nor a Hermes Trismegistus; but I am going to

prescribe a remedy which will do you a very great deal of good. You will

start, with your one-eyed warriors, for Aquitaine, where the air is said

to be very beneficial to the sight, and you will take a letter for me to

your friend Wolf, and bring me back an answer.”

Charlemagne thereupon turned his back on the count, who set out the same

night for Toulouse.

The meeting of Miton and Milaiue

[Illustration: 140]

CHAPTER VIII. HOW ROLAND UNDERTOOK TO CARRY SARAGOSSA BY STORM.

IF, my young friends, I have for some few chapters omitted mention of

Roland, don’t jump at the conclusion that he did not distinguish himself

during the war in Spain, for he took the most notable part in it, as you

may judge for yourselves.

After three months spent in fruitless attacks, Saragossa still stood

as strong as it was on the first day of the siege. The catapults and

balistæ had become disabled without making the slightest impression on

the ramparts. The scaling parties had been repulsed, and the stormers,

hacked in pieces with daggers and lances, had been flung from the

walls into the fosse, or fell among the flames of the raging fires--for

burning pitch had been flung over the walls until it had covered them

with a coating of bitumen as impenetrable as iron.

Roland lost patience. “Prepare everything for the storm to-morrow,”

said he to Charlemagne. “In one hour the breach shall be made!” And he

descended into the fosse with no other arms, offensive or defensive,

than Durandal and his shield.

“Whither goes your nephew, sire?” said Turpin to Charlemagne, following

Roland with his eyes. “Is he mad, or tired of life?”

“I don’t know what he is going to do, but he has bidden me have all

ready for the assault, saying that within an hour the breach will be

made.”

“He will do it, then, sire, as he has said it; and, by my faith! I am

grateful to him, for we are beginning to grow mouldy here.”

Charles mounted his horse, and began to make his dispositions for the

assault. The Saracen sentries on guard on the rampart hardly took any

notice of the single warrior who approached the city; but, hearing a

great noise, they leant over and saw Roland, who was hammering at the

wall with repeated strokes of the pommel of Durandal.

The Saracens laughed, and asked one another what the idiot wanted.

“Shall we smash him?” said one of them, preparing to roll a huge stone

over the rampart.

“What for?” said another. “Is there any reason to be afraid of him?

Shouldn’t you like; to know what he has come here to do?”

Curiosity is the worst of advisers. The sentinels exposed themselves in

order to see better, and four arrows struck them in the face. It was the

hour of target-practice with the pages of Charlemagne.

“I am afraid this is likely to make the infidels squint!” said Mitaine,

choosing a new arrow.

Roland, heedless of all that was passing around him, continued his work

of destruction. The wall began at last to yawn, and the knight to smile,

delighted at his success.

[Illustration: 141]

By-and-by the tremendous hammering excited the curiosity of the

besieged, and some of the soldiers, seeing the sentinels leaning over

the ramparts and never stirring, were anxious to discover what was so

engrossing their attention. They in their turn leant over, and each

received an arrow in his ear.

“What do you think of those ear-rings?” said Mitaine, laughing. “Were

ever such lovely trinkets seen? Saint Eloi, the goldsmith, could not

have fashioned finer!”

During this time Roland redoubled his force. A rent thirty cubits long

began to threaten the wall with ruin. Marsillus, who was passing in the

neighbourhood, felt the earth tremble beneath his feet. Every blow of

the pommel of Durandal made the whole quarter of the city shake to its

foundation.

“So, then,” said the King of Saragossa, “these wretches have brought new

engines of war against us! Why has no one told me of this? Ebrechin, go

see what it is, and hasten back with intelligence of what is passing.”

The earth continued to quake, and several houses began to tremble to

their fall.

“It is not an ordinary balista at work there,” said Marsillus. “None of

those in use now can deliver such hard blows.”

But hardly had the King finished his sentence when a mosque fell in

ruins within a hundred paces of where he stood. Then a still more awful

noise froze his blood with terror. The breach was made: Roland had kept

his word.

[Illustration: 142]

[Illustration: 143]

CHAPTER IX. A TRIP TO MAHOMET’S PARADISE.

WHILE Roland was descending into the fosse of Saragossa, Mahomet was

taking his afternoon nap in his Paradise. A houri had rolled a cloud

under his head, and he was snoring serenely near the fountain.

The first blow of Durandal’s pommel awoke the Prophet.

“Come in,” said he, turning round, in no pleasant humour at being

disturbed. The second stroke put him out still more; and he rang for the

angel Namous, and inquired of him who dared to make such an uproar.

“Great Prophet,” said the heavenly messenger, “it’s that Roland at his

tricks again. He has undertaken to fling down the walls of Saragossa;

and I really can’t help trembling for the fate of your followers!”

“I must see to this,” said Mahomet; “I feel certain you are exaggerating

as usual, and that my brave Marsillus will not let himself be beaten by

a Christian.”

The Prophet stepped down into his observatory, and turned his telescope

on Saragossa.

[Illustration: 144]

“By the crescent! I never remember anything like it. The dog has the

mien of a demigod! I am anxious to see him more closely. Etiquette and

propriety will not permit me to go to him. Namous, saddle Borak, and

seek Roland. Tell him I shall have much pleasure in seeing him, and

don’t fail to bring him.”

The Prophet’s horse was turned out to graze in the Milky Way. Namous

called him.

“Come here, Borak. You have browsed enough here; you feed too freely,

and will injure yourself. A peck of stars ought to suffice you for one

feed. We have got to descend to earth, and you can hardly stir. If the

Blessed Prophet knew it----” With that the angel sprang into his saddle,

and began to ply his spurs. In a quarter of an hour they had left the

planets behind them.

When Namous alighted, Saragossa was taken and sacked; and Roland was

wondering how on earth to spend the evening. The angel approached him

respectfully and said, “I am Namous, the envoy and familiar minister

of the Prophet. The Lord of the Iva’abah has noted you chief among the

Christians, and he desires a visit from you. Be pleased, therefore, to

follow me at once.”

“Your master does me a great honour, and one of which many of my

brothers in arms are more deserving than I. You must convey to him my

excuses, and tell him that I lead a very quiet life; that I have my

religious duties to attend to; that, in short, I don’t go much into

society.”

“The Prophet will very justly feel surprised and hurt at such an answer.

He will demand of me the real reason of your refusal. Are you afraid you

may be led astray by the beauties of his paradise?”

“If you had known Aude, my beloved Aude, that foolish notion would never

have crossed your mind.”

“Are you afraid of a trip through the air?”

“If I thought I might tumble I would set out at once. Fear is a complete

stranger to me; but I have heard of it so often that I should be anxious

to make its acquaintance.”

“You are fatigued with your day’s work, perhaps?”

“Offer me an opponent worthy of my sword, and you shall see if it is

possible to weary Roland.”

The angel bowed, and prepared to spring into his saddle again. The

attention of the Count of Mans was attracted by Borak, who fretted,

pranced, champed his bit, and pawed the ground, impatient to return to

his celestial stable.

“What a fine animal!” said Roland, admiringly.

In truth, one rarely sees one so handsome. Borak was a fine-limbed,

high-standing horse, strong in frame, and with a coat as glossy as

marble which is constantly laved by a fountain. His colour was saffron,

with one hair of gold for every three of tawny; his ears were restless,

pointed like a reed; his eyes large, and full of fire; his nostrils

wide and steaming, with a white star on his forehead, a neck gracefully

arched, and decked with a mane soft and silky enough to make a young

girl envious. He had a long, thick tail, that swept the ground.

“It is the Prophet’s favourite mount. He has sent it in your especial

honour.”

Roland was touched at the delicate attention.

“I wished,” continued the angel, “to bring you some quieter animal; but

Mahomet said you were the best rider he knew, and he was sure you would

be able to master it. At the same time,” added Namous, treacherously,

“if it be that which stops you, I can provide you with other means of

transport.”

The Count of Mans simply shrugged his shoulders, and by way of answer

leaped into the saddle--despite the weight of his armour--without

setting foot in stirrup, or putting hand to mane. Borak swerved an

instant, then dashed into space, scaling the cloud-mountains at full

gallop. The angel spread his wings, and took the lead.

[Illustration: 146]

When Roland recovered the surprise, he was as high as the constellation

Scorpio. He felt anger would be out of place; so, assuring himself that

Durandal was at his side, he resigned himself to circumstances.

The journey was made without difficulty. Only once was the knight in

danger of falling, when Borak, scared by a shooting star, which passed

between his legs, almost unseated him with a buck-jump. At length, after

an ascent of half an hour, the steed paused, while the angel knocked at

the largest of the eight gates of Paradise. As soon as it opened Roland

uttered a cry of admiration.

How can I--with only human language--describe to you so many superhuman

wonders? I ought first of all to tell you that all the faculties of our

brave knight acquired an immense augmentation on passing the threshold

of Paradise. His sight, for instance, although good enough, had only

permitted him on earth to distinguish objects at an inconsiderable

distance. Imagine his surprise on beholding clearly and minutely the

most tiny creatures six or seven hundred leagues off--and that without

the laws of perspective being in the least degree deranged. The same

thing occurred with regard to hearing and smelling. He used subsequently

to relate the pleasure with which he smelt the perfume of a flower which

had just come in bloom in a neighbouring state, while listening at the

same time to the song of a bird which was warbling at the opposite pole.

His mind, too, had become so enlarged that he felt no inconvenience from

this vastly increased acuteness of the senses. At one glance he gazed

over two thousand square parasangs of country, each parasang being

something larger than a league. The virgin forests of America are but

brushwood compared with those he beheld. On all sides were cities of

shining whiteness, surmounted by thousands of spires and cupolas of gold

and silver. At the foot of their walls flowed majestic rivers, in which

the Rhine, the Euphrates, and the Nile would have been swallowed

up. Nothing which troubles the inhabitants of earth existed in this

enchanted clime. The lion, the tiger, the serpent, and the leopard were

but the ornaments of the forest. They fed upon the green herbage, and

submitted to human rule with perfect docility. There was no wind--only

a gentle breeze; no storms--only perfumed showers. It was an Italian

climate beneath an Egyptian sky!

[Illustration: 147]

A winged band, commanded by Israfel, the angel of the resurrection, came

to meet Roland.

[Illustration: 150]

“The Prophet has sent us to you to announce his approach. Will you

follow us, or will you await him here?”

“I will follow you,” said Roland, joining the troop. He saw with wonder

that the forests retired to make way for him; the rivers changed their

courses on his approach. He wished to assure himself that this was not

a deception of the mirage, and galloped rapidly towards a lake which

lay beside his route. His horse did not refuse the leap, but the water

respectfully drew back, and he alighted on level and thickly-blossomed

sward.

Israfel, remarking Roland’s astonishment, said, “The Prophet has taken

care that all here shall do you homage. He is aware that you go through

life, as through battle, straight at your mark, and he wished to prove

that he knew your tastes and habits.”

Roland continued his progress until he met the procession, when he

halted to let it pass. The ground, before he was aware of it, rose

beneath his horse’s feet, and he found himself in a minute on a mound,

from which he gazed down on the crowd. Israfel made a sign: two trees at

once sprang from the soil, and afforded the knight a pleasant shade. The

Count of Mans, in silent astonishment, watched the procession without

stirring.

First came a thousand horsemen, each bearing a white and ruby banner,

and mounted on a white charger. Next to these came a thousand more, clad

in suits of mail, armed with maces, and riding on bay horses; behind

them came two thousand Berbers from the regions of Timbuctoo, who

brandished lances with green pennons, and bore sword-proof bucklers

of rhinoceros hide. Their steeds were as black as their faces. Then

followed three thousand more horsemen, with serpent-skin girdles. They

carried hide shields, and had bows hung at their saddle-pommels. Long

lances, furnished with sharp barbs, gleamed in their hands; their horses

were cream-coloured. To these succeeded an army composed of soldiers,

as many in number as there are drops in the sky; some were armed with

spears or bills, others with javelins or maces. A hundred paces behind

these came eight thousand elephants, in ranks of twenty-five abreast,

the first line white, the second black, and so on.

[Illustration: 151]

On the back of each was a tower, containing twenty armed men. Behind

these, again, came thirty white elephants, covered with golden stars,

and so richly caparisoned you could hardly look at them without winking.

On these were borne the favourite wives of the Prophet, twenty on each

elephant. Canopies of dazzling whiteness, raised upon silver columns,

shielded them from the sun. Ten thousand chosen warriors formed their

escort. Last came an endless number of camels, laden with palanquins,

whose curtains fluttered in the breeze. Each animal was led by a

richly-clad Ethiopian, who held the zimzam, or nose-bridle, in his

hands. In each palanquin ten houris, far more lovely than anything you

can conceive, fluttered their feather fans.

[Illustration: 153]

Then followed twenty thousand dancing girls, attired in light drapery,

with bare arms and legs. You saw, as they moved, among their tresses and

round their necks, coruscations of precious stones, so bright you were

compelled to shade your eyes. The bracelets that quivered on their

wrists, the bangles that gleamed on their ankles, kept up a musical and

enticing tinkling.

Shall I enumerate to you the multitude of female performers on the

guitar, the tambourine, and the mandolin, and of the singers as well? Of

what use is it to crowd the page with strings of numerals?

These houris were of no common origin. Mahomet had formed their bodies

of musk, saffron, amber, and frankincense. Their faces were so radiant

with beauty, that they diffused a gentle splendour in the night, like

the moon when she mounts above the horizon amid the mists of earth.

Their voices were so sweet, that every syllable which fell from their

lips was precious.

After these beauties came the Prophet, attired in a green robe, and

seated on a white palfrey. He was dressed with the greatest simplicity,

and far from showily mounted, and yet one felt an inward inclination to

bend the knee to him as he passed. On his right hand rode his grandsire,

Abd el Motalleb; on his left his father, Abdallah; and he was surrounded

by Ali, his cousin and most warm disciple; by Said, his adopted heir;

by the four sages of Mecca--Waraca, Othman, Obaydallah, and Zaid; by

the fiery Omar, the faithful Aboubeker, and thousands of others just as

famous.

A hundred thousand horsemen brought up the rear of the cavalcade.

As the troops took up their positions, the scenery underwent a

complete change, unobserved of Roland, who was absorbed in watching the

procession. When he cast a look around him, he beheld himself surrounded

by mountains whose summits were beyond his ken. These gigantic heights,

which were composed of gneiss, mica, agate, onyx, trap, and porphyry

were clothed halfway up by forests whose flora comprised the growths of

all climes. The vast baobab spread its branches in close contiguity to

an island of palms, which displayed their delicate foliage against the

blue sky. The silvery mohonono contrasted well with the dark motsouri;

the moupanda-panda of Central Africa, the jacquier of Malacca, the oak

of Europe, mingled their boughs. Rivers, whose source was hidden in the

clouds, bounded from rock to rock, flinging up at every obstacle crests

of feathery spray, spanned by rainbows.

[Illustration: 155]

The troops occupied positions on the heights. Roland beheld clouds of

warriors proudly occupying apparently inaccessible peaks. The elephants

were drawn up in two lines, four thousand in each, and the thirty white

elephants of the Prophet’s favourites were grouped in front of them. And

now angels appeared, who, spreading their wide wings, offered their aid

to enable the six hundred chosen beauties to dismount. They alighted

close to the Count of Mans, before whom they bowed low, and then took

their places on a carpet spread for them on his right. The camels came

next, and knelt down gently, whereupon the houris sprang from their

palanquins with a lightness and grace which astonished Roland more than

all. Their feet hardly left an imprint in the sand. Like the favourites

of the harem, they also approached Roland, and, kissing the ground

before him, ranged themselves on his left. Then like a flood advanced

the troop of celestial dancers, tripping along to the sound of

castanets, flutes, theorbos, timbrels, guitars, and mandolins, amid loud

singing, accompanied by the most lively strains of music.

The animation of their movements increased or diminished according to

the rhythm, which they marked by accurate beats of the foot and clapping

of hands, in slow or quick time. Their eyes were now filled with soft

languor--now darted glances of fire. Balancing themselves from the hips,

they swung their bodies and waved their arms with ease and grace. At

times a comb, unable to imprison such a wealth of tresses, fell out, and

freed locks that were as dark as the night.

But now the Prophet gave the signal: the dances ceased, and the houris

flew, like a flock of frightened birds, to take their position opposite

Roland, and under shelter of the elephants.

Mahomet, in his turn, drew nearer to the nephew of Charlemagne,

who immediately dismounted--an act of courtesy to age he invariably

observed.

“May Allah, who has made all things of earth and heaven, of day and

night, extend his blessing to you in this world and in the one you

inhabit! You are welcome,” said the Prophet! “I must ask your pardon for

the poverty of this reception, as our meeting has been arranged at such

short notice that I have only had time to bring as my suite a few of

my immediate followers, and the troops which happen to be my guard of

honour for the day. Besides, I feared that in surrounding myself with

too great pomp, I might seem to be offering a defiance to a late enemy,

whom I only desire to make a friend of. If I have not treated you with

more ceremony, it is because I wish to treat you like a brother.”

Roland made a wry face, which the Prophet thought it convenient to

attribute to the glare of the sun in his eyes, and therefore made a sign

to four angels, who immediately flew off and spread a rosy cloud before

the luminary. .

“I accept your explanation,” said Roland, coolly, half doubting whether

the Prophet were not making fun of him. “I have equal need of pardon;

but if I have come without a fitting retinue, you must attribute it to

my desire to answer your invitation promptly.”

After this exchange of courtesies, Roland commenced the conversation by

saying, “You will forgive me if I beg you at once to inform me what it

is that has obtained me the honour of this interview, as I am in a hurry

to return to earth. I mount guard to-night in the Emperor’s tent, and I

never like to fail in the performance of duty.”

“Never fear,” said Mahomet; “I’ll have the sun put back. We have all

time for our interview.”

“I am all attention.”

“There is not a more valiant knight than you living. Your single arm is

worth an army. Your judgment is sound, your decision speedy----”