snatched a javelin by the shaft, and poised it in his hand. Ganelon
watched him, his fingers playing the while with the sword-hilt
underneath his mantle, and he said, "Great king, I have given my
message and have freed me of my burden. Let the bearer of such a
message die if so it seemeth good to thee. What shall it profit thee
to slay the messenger? Will that wipe out the message, or bring a
gentler one? Or thinkest thou Charles careth not for his barons? Read
now the writing of King Charles the Great." Therewith he gave into
the king's hand a parchment he had made ready in the likeness of his
master's writing. And Marsilius brake the seal, and read: "Before I
will make the peace, I command thee send hither to me thine uncle, the
caliph, that sitteth next thee on the throne, that I may do with him
as I will." Then the king's son drew his scimitar and ran on Ganelon,
saying, "Give him to me; it is not fit this man should live!" But
Ganelon turned, brandished his sword and set his back against a
pine-trunk. Then cried Blancandrin, "Do the Frank no harm; for he has
pledged himself to be our spy, and work for our profit." So
Blancandrin went and fetched Ganelon, and led him by the hand and
brought him against the king. And the king said, "Good Sir Ganelon, I
was wrong to be angry; but I will make amends. I will give thee five
hundred pieces of gold in token of my favor." Ganelon answered, "He
that taketh not counsel to his own profit is a fool. God forbid I
should so ill requite thy bounty as to say thee nay."
Marsilius said, "Charles is very old. For years and years he has
fought and conquered, and put down kings and taken their lands, and
heaped up riches more than can be counted. Is he not yet weary of war,
nor tired of conquest, nor satisfied with his riches?" Ganelon
answered, "Charles has long been tired of war; but Roland, his
captain, is a covetous man, and greedy of possession. He and his
companion Oliver, and the twelve peers of France, continually do stir
up the king to war. Were these but slain, the world would be at
peace. But they have under them full twenty thousand men, the pick of
all the host of France, and they are very terrible in war."
Marsilius spake to him again, saying, "Tell me; I have four hundred
thousand warriors, better men were never seen: would not these suffice
to fight with Charles?"
Ganelon answered, "Nay; what folly is this! Heed wiser counsel. Send
back the hostages to Charles with me. Then will Charles gather his
host together, and depart out of Spain, and go to Aachen, there to
await the fulfilment of thy covenant. But he will leave his rear-guard
of twenty thousand, together with Roland and Oliver and the Twelve, to
follow after him. Fall thou on these with all thy warriors; let not
one escape. Destroy them, and thou mayest choose thy terms of peace,
for Charles will fight no more. The rear-guard will take their journey
by the pass of Siza, along the narrow Valley of Roncesvalles.
Wherefore surround the valley with thy host, and lie in wait for them.
They will fight hard, but in vain."
Then Marsilius made him swear upon the book of the law of Mohammed,
and upon his sword handle, that all should happen as he had said. Thus
Ganelon did the treason. And Marsilius gave Ganelon rich presents of
gold and precious stones, and bracelets of great worth. He gave him
also the keys of his city of Zaragoz, that he should rule it after
these things were come to pass, and promised him ten mules' burden of
fine gold of Arabia. So he sent Ganelon again to Charles, and with
him twenty hostages of good faith.
When Ganelon came before Charles, he told him King Marsilius would
perform all the oath which he sware, and was even now set out upon his
journey to do his fealty, and pay the price of peace, and be baptized.
Then Charles lifted up his hands toward Heaven, and thanked God for
the prosperous ending of the war in Spain.
THE GREAT BATTLE OF RONCESVALLES
By Sir George W. Cox
In the morning the king arose and gathered to him his host to go away
to keep the feast of Saint Michael at Aachen, and to meet Marsilius
there.
And Ogier the Dane made he captain of the vanguard of his army which
should go with him. Then said the king to Ganelon, "Whom shall I make
captain of the rear-guard which I leave behind?" Ganelon answered,
"Roland; for there is none like him in all the host." So Charles made
Roland captain of the rear-guard. With Roland there remained behind,
Oliver, his dear comrade, and the twelve peers, and Turpin the
archbishop, who for love of Roland would fain go with him, and twenty
thousand proven warriors. Then said the king to his nephew, "Good
Roland, behold, the half of my army have I given thee in charge. See
thou keep them safely." Roland answered, "Fear nothing. I shall
render good account of them,"
So they took leave of one another, and the king and his host marched
forward till they reached the borders of Spain. And ever as the king
thought upon his nephew whom he left behind, his heart grew heavy with
an ill foreboding. So they came into Gascoigny and saw their own lands
again. But Charles would not be comforted, for being come into France
he would sit with his face wrapped in his mantle, and he often spake
to Duke Naymes, saying he feared that Ganelon had wrought some
treason.
Now Marsilius had sent in haste to all his emirs and his barons to
assemble a mighty army, and in three days he gathered four hundred
thousand men to Roncesvalles, and there lay in wait for the rearguard
of King Charles.
Now when the rear-guard had toiled up the rocky pass and climbed the
mountain ridge, way-wearied, they looked down on Roncesvalles, whither
their journey lay. And behold! all the valley bristled with spears,
and the valley sides were overspread with them, for multitude like
blades of grass upon a pasture; and the murmur of the pagan host rose
to them on the mountain as the murmur of a sea. Then when they saw
that Ganelon had played them false, Oliver spake to Roland, "What
shall we now do because of this treason? For this is a greater
multitude of pagans than has ever been gathered together in the world
before. And they will certainly give us battle." Roland answered, "God
grant it; for sweet it is to do our duty for our king. This will we
do: when we have rested we, will go forward." Then said Oliver, "We
are but a handful. These are in number as the sands of the sea. Be
wise; take now your horn, good comrade, and sound it; peradventure
Charles may hear, and come back with his host to succor us." But
Roland answered, "The greater the number the more glory. God forbid I
should sound my horn and bring Charles back with his barons, and lose
my good name, and bring disgrace upon us all. Fear not the numbers of
the host; I promise you they shall repent of coming here; they are as
good as dead already in my mind." Three times Oliver urged him to
sound his horn, but Roland would not, for he said, "God and His angels
are on our side." Yet again Oliver pleaded, for he had mounted up
into a pine tree and seen more of the multitude that came against
them; far as the eye could see they reached; and he prayed Roland to
come and see also. But he would not; "Time enough," he said, "to know
their numbers when we come to count the slain. We will make ready for
battle."
Then Archbishop Turpin gathered the band of warriors about him, and
said, "It is a right good thing to die for king and faith; and verily
this day we all shall do it. But have no fear of death. For we shall
meet to-night in Paradise, and wear the martyr's crown. Kneel now,
confess your sins, and pray God's mercy." Then the Franks kneeled on
the ground while the archbishop shrived them clean and blessed them in
the name of God. And after that he bade them rise, and, for penance,
go scourge the pagans.
Roland ranged his trusty warriors and went to and fro among them
riding upon his battle-horse Veillantif; by his side his good sword
Durendal. Small need had he to exhort them in extremity; there was
not a man but loved him unto death and cheerfully would follow where
he led. He looked upon the pagan host, and his countenance waxed
fierce and terrible; he looked upon his band, and his face was mild
and gentle. He said, "Good comrades, lords, and barons, let no man
grudge his life to-day; but only see he sells it dear. A score of
pagans is a poor price for one of us. I have promised to render good
account of you. I have no fear. The battlefield will tell, if we
cannot." Then he gave the word, "Go forward!" and with his golden spurs
pricked Veillantif. So, foremost, he led the rear-guard down the
mountain-side, down through the pass of Siza into the Valley of Death
called Roncesvalles. Close following came Oliver, Archbishop Turpin,
and the valiant Twelve; the guard pressing forward with the shout
"Montjoy!" and bearing the snow-white banner of their king aloft.
Marvellous and fierce was the battle. That was a good spear Roland
bare; for it crashed through fifteen pagan bodies, through brass and
hide and bone, before the trusty ash brake in its hand, or ever he was
fain to draw Durendal from his sheath. The Twelve did wondrously; nay,
every man of the twenty thousand fought with lionlike courage; neither
counted any man his life dear to him. Archbishop Turpin, resting for
a moment to get fresh breath, cried out, "Thank God to see the
rear-guard fight to-day!" then spurred in again among them. Roland saw
Oliver still fighting with the truncheon of his spear and said,
"Comrade, draw thy sword," but he answered, "Not while a handful of
the stump remains. Weapons are precious to-day."
For hours they fought, and not a Frank gave way. Wheresoever a man
planted his foot, he kept the ground or died. The guard hewed down the
pagans by crowds, till the earth was heaped with full two hundred
thousand heathen dead. Of those kings which banded together by oath to
fight him, Roland gave good account, for he laid them all dead about
him in a ring. But many thousands of the Franks were slain, and of the
Twelve there now remained but two.
Marsilius looked upon his shattered host and saw them fall back in
panic, for they were dismayed because of the Franks. But Marsilius
heard the sound of trumpets from the mountain top and a glad man was
he; for twenty strong battalions of Saracens were come to his help,
and these poured down the valley-side. Seeing this, the rest of the
pagans took heart again, and they all massed about the remnant of the
guard, and shut them in on every hand. Nevertheless Roland and his
fast lessening band were not dismayed. So marvellously they fought, so
many thousand pagans hurled they down, making grim jests the while as
though they played at war for sport, that their enemies were in mortal
fear and doubted greatly if numbers would suffice to overwhelm these
men, for it misgave them whether God's angels were not come down to
the battle. But the brave rear-guard dwindled away, and Roland scarce
dared turn his eyes to see the handful that remained.
Then Roland spake to Oliver, "Comrade, I will sound my horn, if
peradventure Charles may hear and come to us." But Oliver was angry,
and answered, "It is now too late. Hadst thou but heeded me in time,
much weeping might have been spared the women of France, Charles
should not have lost his guard, nor France her valiant Roland." "Talk
not of what might have been," said Archbishop Turpin, "but blow thy
horn. Charles cannot come in time to save our lives, but he will
certainly come and avenge them."
Then Roland put the horn to his mouth and blew a great blast. Far up
the valley went the sound and smote against the mountain tops; these
flapped it on from ridge to ridge for thirty leagues. Charles heard it
in his hall, and said, "Listen! what is that? Surely our men do fight
to-day." But Ganelon answered the king: "What folly is this! It is
only the sighing of the wind among the trees."
Weary with battle Roland took the horn again and winded it with all
his strength. So long and mighty was the blast, the veins stood out
upon his forehead in great cords; he blew on till with the strain his
brain-pan brake asunder at the temples. Charles heard it in his
palace and cried, "Hark! I hear Roland's horn. He is in battle or he
would not sound it." Ganelon answered, "Too proud is he to sound it in
battle. My lord the king groweth old and childish in his fears. What
if it be Roland's horn? He hunteth perchance in the woods."
In sore pain and heaviness Roland lifted the horn to his mouth and
feebly winded it again. Charles heard it in his palace, and started
from his seat; the salt tears gathered in his eyes and dropped upon
his snowy beard; and he said, "O Roland, my brave captain, too long
have I delayed! Thou art in evil need. I know it by the wailing of the
horn!' Quick, now, to arms! Make ready, every man! For straightway
we will go and help him." Then he thrust Ganelon away, and said to his
servants, "Take this man, and bind him fast with chains; keep him in
ward till I return in peace and know if he have wrought us treason."
So they bound Ganelon and flung him into a dungeon; and Charles the
Great and his host set out with all speed.
Fierce with the cruel throbbing of his brain, and well nigh blinded,
Roland fought on, and with his good sword Durendal slew the pagan
prince Faldrun and three and twenty redoubtable champions.
The little company that was left of the brave rear-guard cut down
great masses of the pagans, and reaped among them as the reapers reap
at harvest time; but one by one the reapers fell ere yet the harvest
could be gathered in. Yet where each Frank lay, beside him there lay
for a sheaf his pile of slain, so any man might see how dear he had
sold his life. Marganices, the pagan king, espied where Oliver was
fighting seven abreast, and spurred his horse and rode and smote him
through the back a mortal wound. But Oliver turned and swung his sword
Hautclere, and before he could triumph clove him through the helmet to
his teeth. Yet even when the pains of death gat hold on Oliver so
that his eyes grew dim and he knew no man, he never ceased striking
out on every side with his sword and calling "Montjoy!" Then Roland
hasted to his help, and cutting the pagans down for a wide space
about, came to his old companion to lift him from his horse. But
Oliver struck him a blow that brake the helm to shivers on his
throbbing head.
Nevertheless Roland for all his pain took him tenderly down and spake
with much gentleness, saying, "Dear comrade, I fear me thou art in an
evil case." Oliver said, "Thy voice is like Roland's voice; but I
cannot see thee." Roland answered, "It is I, thy comrade." Then he
said "Forgive me, that I smote thee. It is so dark I cannot see thy
face; give me thy hand; God bless thee, Roland; God bless Charles, and
France!" So saying he fell upon his face and died.
A heavy-hearted man was Roland; little recked he for his life since
Oliver his good comrade was parted from him. Then he turned and looked
for the famous rear-guard of King Charles the Great.
Only two men were left beside himself.
Turpin the archbishop, Count Gaulter, and Roland set themselves
together with the fixed intent to sell their lives as dearly as they
might; and when the pagans ran upon them in a multitude with shouts
and cries, Roland slew twenty, Count Gaulter six, and Turpin five.
Then the pagans drew back and gathered together all the remnant of
their army, forty thousand horsemen and a thousand footmen with spears
and javelins, and charged upon the three. Count Gaulter fell at the
first shock. The archbishop's horse was killed, and he being brought
to earth, lay there a-dying, with four wounds in his forehead, and
four in his breast. Yet gat Roland never a wound in all that fight,
albeit the pain in his temples was very sore.
Then Roland took the horn and sought to wind it yet again. Very feeble
was the sound, yet Charles heard it away beyond the mountains, where
he marched fast to help his guard. And the king said, "Good barons,
great is Roland's distress; I know it by the sighing of the horn.
Spare neither spur nor steed for Roland's sake." Then he commanded to
sound all the clarions long and loud; and the mountains tossed the
sound from peak to peak, so that it was plainly heard down in the
Valley of Roncesvalles.
The pagans heard the clarions ringing behind the mountains, and they
said, "These are the clarions of Charles the Great. Behold Charles
cometh upon us with his host, and we shall have to fight the battle
again if we remain. Let us rise up and depart quickly. There is but
one man more to slay." Then four hundred of the bravest rode at
Roland; and he, spurring his weary horse against them, strove still to
shout "Montjoy!" but could not, for voice failed him. And when he was
come within spear-cast, every pagan flung a spear at him, for they
feared to go nigh him, and said, "There is none born of woman can slay
this man." Stricken with twenty spears, the faithful steed,
Veillantif, dropped down dead. Roland fell under him, his armor
pierced everywhere with spear-points, yet not so much as a scratch
upon his body. Stunned with the fall he lay there in a swoon. The
pagans came and looked on him, and gave him up for dead. Then they
left him and made all speed to flee before Charles should come.
Roland lifted his eyes and beheld the pagans filing up the mountain
passes; and he was left alone among the dead. In great pain he drew
his limbs from underneath his horse, and gat upon his feet, but scarce
could stand for the anguish of his brain beating against his
temples. He dragged himself about the valley, and looked upon his dead
friends and comrades, and Roland said, "Charles will see that the
guard has done its duty." He came to where Oliver lay, and lifted the
body tenderly in his arms, saying, "Dear comrade, thou wast ever a
good and gentle friend to me; better warrior brake never a spear, nor
wielded sword; wise wert thou of counsel, and I repent me that once
only I hearkened not to thy voice. God rest thy soul! A sweeter friend
and truer comrade no man ever had than thou." Then Roland heard a
feeble voice, and turned and was ware of Archbishop Turpin. Upon the
ground he lay a-dying, a piteous sight to see; howbeit, he raised his
trembling hands and blessed the brave dead about him in the dear name
of God.
And when Turpin beheld Roland, his eyes were satisfied. He said, "Dear
Roland, thank God the field is thine and mine. We have fought a good
fight." Then joined he his hands as though he fain would pray, and
Roland, seeing the archbishop like to faint for the sharpness of his
distress, took and dragged himself to a running stream that he espied
pass through the valley; and he dipped up water in his horn to bring
to him, but could not, for he fell upon the bank and swooned. And
when he came to himself, and crawled to where the archbishop lay, he
found him with his hands still clasped, but having neither thirst nor
any pain, for he was at rest. A lonesome man in the Valley of Death,
Roland wept for the last of his friends.
And Roland, when he found death coming on him, took his sword Durendal
in one hand, and his horn in the other, and crawled away about a
bowshot to a green hillock whereupon four diverse marble steps were
built beneath the trees.
Then he took Durendal into his hands, and prayed that it might not
fall into the power of his enemies. He said, "O Durendal, how keen of
edge, how bright of blade thou art! God sent thee by his angel to King
Charles, to be his captain's sword. Charles girt thee at my side. How
many countries thou hast conquered for him in my hands! O Durendal,
though it grieves me sore, I had rather break thee than that pagan
hands should wield thee against France." Then he besought that God
would now eke out his strength to break the sword; and lifting it in
his hands he smote mightily upon the topmost marble step. The gray
stone chipped and splintered, but the good blade brake not, neither
was its edge turned. He smote the second step, which was of sardonyx;
the blade bit it, and leaped back, but blunted not, nor brake. The
third step was of gray adamant; he smote it with all his might; the
adamant powdered where he struck, but the sword brake not, nor lost
its edge. And when he could no more lift the sword, his heart smote
him that he had tried to break the holy blade; and he said, "O
Durendal, I am to blame; the angels gave thee; they will keep thee
safe for Charles and France!"
Then Roland lay down and set his face toward Spain and toward his
enemies, that men should plainly see he fell a conqueror. Beneath him
he put the sword and horn; then having made his peace with God, he lay
a-thinking. He thought of his master Charles. He thought of France and
his home that was so dear. He thought of his dear maid, Hilda, who
would weep and cry for him. Then lifted he his weary hands to Heaven
and closed his eyes in death.
Gloom fell; the mists went up, and there was only death and silence in
the valley. The low red sun was setting in the west.
CHARLEMAGNE REVENGES ROLAND
By Sir George W. Cox
Charles and his host rode hard, and drew not rein until they reached
the mountain top, and looked down on the Valley of Roncesvalles. They
blew the clarions, but there was no sound, neither any that answered
save the ringing mountain sides. Then down through gloom and mist they
rode, and saw the field; saw Roland dead, and Oliver; the archbishop
and the twelve valiant peers, and every man of the twenty thousand
chosen guard; saw how fiercely they had fought, how hard they died.
There was not one in all the king's host but lifted up his voice and
wept for pity at the sight they saw.
But Charles the king is fallen on his face on Roland's body, with a
great and exceeding bitter cry. No word lie spake, but only lay and
moaned upon the dead that was so passing dear to him.
Charles was an old man when he took the babe Roland from his mother's
arms. He had brought him up and nourished him, had taught him war, and
watched him grow the bravest knight, the stanchest captain of his
host. Right gladly would he have given Spain and the fruits of all the
seven years' war to have Roland back again. Tears came, but brought no
words; and God sent sleep to comfort him for his heaviness.
Then having watered and pastured their horses, the king left four good
knights in Roncesvalles to guard the dead and set out in chase of the
pagans.
In the Vale of Tenebrus the Franks overtook them, hard by the broad,
swift river Ebro. There being hemmed in, the river in front and the
fierce Franks behind, the pagans were cut to pieces; Not one escaped,
save Marsilius and a little band who had taken another way and got
safe to Zaragoz. Thence Marsilius sent letters to Baligant, King of
Babylon, who ruled forty kingdoms, praying him to come over and help
him. And Baligant gathered a mighty great army and put off to sea to
come to Marsilius.
But King Charles went straightway back to Roncesvalles to bury the
dead. He summoned thither his bishops and abbots and canons to say
mass for the souls of his guard and to burn incense of myrrh and
antimony round about. But he would by no means lay Roland and Oliver
and Turpin in the earth. Wherefore he caused their bodies to be
embalmed, that he might have them ever before his eyes; and he arrayed
them in stuffs of great price and laid them in three coffins of white
marble, and chose out the three richest chariots that he had and
placed the coffins in them, that they might go with him whithersoever
he went.
Now after this Marsilius and Baligant came out to battle with King
Charles before the walls of Zaragoz. But the king utterly destroyed
the pagans there and slew King Baligant and King Marsilius, and brake
down the gates of Zaragoz and took the city. So he conquered Spain and
avenged himself for Roland and his guard.
But when King Charles would go back again to France his heart grew
exceeding heavy. He said, "O Roland, my good friend, I have no more
pleasure in this land which we have conquered. When I come again to
Laon, to my palace, and men ask tidings, they will hear how many
cities and kingdoms we have taken; but no man will rejoice. They will
say, Count Roland our good captain is dead, and great sadness will
fall on all the realm. O Roland, my friend, when I come again to
Aachen, to my chapel, and men ask tidings, they will hear that we have
won a land and lost the best captain in all France; and they will weep
and mourn, and say the war has been in vain. O Roland, my friend,
would God that I had died for thee!"