The heroes spent one quiet day after the army had gone. On the second
morning, their outposts came in to announce the approach of a large
army, so they got ready for the fight. Roland led his forces to
Ronceval, a narrow pass between two high mountains, which he determined
to defend. The Moors, more than twenty thousand strong, came up with
the Franks before they had reached the end of the pass.
“Blow your horn,” said Olivier, “the emperor will hear you and return,
he cannot have got very far yet.”
Roland gazed at his great horn, Olifant, which was hanging at his side.
It was made of ivory with gold inlaid, and, when blown by one who
understood how to sound it, would send its voice for miles around.
“Look, faithful friend,” said the hero, “I was given this horn, and my
good sword Durindart, by an angel from heaven. I then swore only to
blow the horn in case of utmost need. We are not now in such a case; I
think we are strong enough to make these heathen bite the dust. Ha!
what do I see? Look, there is the traitor Marsilio! No doubt the
faithless Ganelon has betrayed us for much red gold, but we will fight
for the good cause. Monjoie, Saint Denys! Up, soldiers of Christ, let
us do battle for our holy Faith!”
The heroes and their men rushed on to meet the Moorish hosts, who
withstood their furious onslaught with the greatest courage; but after
a while fell back, and fled, pursued by the Christians, who slew all
they came up with.
When the heroes had recalled their little army from the pursuit, they
made their men sit down and rest. Before they had sat very long, they
were startled by a shout behind them of “Machmet! Machmet!” and a great
blowing of trumpets and beating of drums. A larger army than that which
they had already put to flight was approaching in their rear. Marsilio
was at its head.
Roland prepared for battle. He sent Count Walter to guard a wooded
height, and then, accompanied by his brother Balduin, brave Olivier,
the bold Archbishop Turpin, and the other paladins, advanced with his
men against the foe.
The battle raged with intensest fury round the leaders. Wild cries and
the clash of arms filled the air. At last Roland flew at Marsilio, but
next moment his horse was killed beneath him. He sprang to his feet,
and fought so desperately that the Moors turned and fled. He looked
round, and could see none but the dead or dying. He raised his horn to
his lips, and blew a mighty blast. About a hundred men-at-arms appeared
in answer to his call, then came a few more, and lastly Olivier,
Balduin, Archbishop Turpin, and others of the heroes.
“Your horn has a goodly sound, and carries far, friend Roland,” said
Olivier; “the emperor must have heard it, and will return and help us.
It will be high time, in sooth; for see how the wild Moors assemble in
close order, and prepare to renew the attack.”
“Up, ye faithful of the Lord,” cried Roland; “close your ranks. May
Christ preserve us!”
The hero mounted an Arab horse he had caught a moment before, and took
his place at the head of his men. Soon spears were hurtling through the
air, and swords were clashing. Many a doughty deed was done by small
and great in the Christian force; but fight as they might, the Franks
were so few in number, that it seemed as if the Moors must finally
prevail. Olivier fell defending his friend and brother-in-arms.
Roland’s sword did such terrible execution that the Moors once more
retreated in fear, and the hero was too weary to pursue them. His
wounded horse fell dead beneath him, and he, bleeding from many wounds,
and feeling that his end was near, staggered into a neighbouring gorge,
and sank upon the ground at the foot of a rock. Then, raising his eyes
to heaven, he whispered,—
“Lord, give me grace in Thy sight. Receive, if so be that Thou hearest
me, this pledge of my submission to Thy will.”
So saying, he held up his gauntlet; a soft breeze passed over his face,
and an invisible hand took the gauntlet, and bore it away. The hero
then lifted his sword Durindart, and tried to break it against the
rock, that it might not fall into the hands of the Moors. But the
marble rock was split by the blow, while the sword remained unharmed.
He now blew his horn for the third time. The worthy Archbishop Turpin
limped up to him, then came Balduin, Roland’s half-brother, his
faithful squire Thiedrich, and bold Walter, who had defended the height
committed to his charge until all his men were slain.
Time passed slowly with the wounded men. At last they heard the glad
sound of horns blowing, and the clanking of armour. Kaiser Karl had
come back to their assistance. But before he arrived, Roland had gone
to the realms of eternal peace. His faithful squire told the emperor,
with tears in his eyes, that he had seen one of God’s angels come to
receive his master’s soul. Then he went on to tell of Marsilio’s
faithlessness, of the battles which had that day been fought, and of
the suspicion they all felt that Ganelon had betrayed them into the
hands of the Moor.
“You were right there,” said the emperor; “the traitor deceived me
also. I wanted to return the moment I heard Count Roland’s horn, but
Ganelon dissuaded me, saying that my nephew must only be hunting.”
The bodies of the Frankish soldiers were buried, while those of the
paladins who had lost their lives at Ronceval, amongst whom were
Turpin, Roland, Olivier, and Walter, were to be taken away and embalmed
for burial in France. Ganelon was at the same time arrested and bound.
These things done, the emperor marched against the Moors, who meanwhile
had been reinforced by the arrival of Caliph Baligant of Babylon with
hosts of followers. The battle between the Christian and Moorish forces
lasted two days, and was then decided in favour of the Franks. Baligant
died on the field, and Marsilio at Saragossa. This victory gave Spain
to the conqueror.
The emperor returned to France. Halt was made by the vine-clad banks of
the Dordone, and the bodies of the fallen heroes were interred at
Blaive, after which the march to Paris was resumed. There the feast of
victory was held, and when it was over, Kaiser Karl set out for Aix,
where Ganelon was tried before a jury of twelve of his peers. He was
sentenced to prove his innocence by single combat against Thiedrich,
Roland’s faithful squire. As Ganelon was much weakened by his
imprisonment, he was allowed to choose any one he liked to act as proxy
for him. He chose Pinabel, one of the most famous swordsmen of his day;
but that availed him nothing; God fought for Thiedrich, and Pinabel was
overthrown. Ganelon was then sentenced to be torn in pieces by wild
horses.
Soon after this, fair Auda came to Aix in search of her betrothed. None
of the warriors had courage to tell her the truth, so they referred her
to the emperor, and he told her with tears in his eyes.
“Dead,” she said; “Roland dead!”
With these words she sank lifeless to the ground, so they took her
away, and buried her beside her hero in the vault at Blaive.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]