returned victorious, they gathered together in great multitudes to
welcome him. And when Hilda, the fair maid whom Roland loved, heard
it, she arrayed herself in her richest apparel and proudly decked
herself with her jewels. For she said, "I would be pleasing in the
eyes of my brave true captain who comes home to wed with me. There is
no gladder heart in France than mine." Then she hasted to the palace.
The king's guards all drew back for fear and let her pass, for they
dared not speak to her. Right proudly walked she through them, and
proudly came she to the king, saying,--"Roland, the captain of the
host, where is he?"
And Charles feared exceedingly and scarce could see for tears. He
said, "Dear sister, sweet friend, am I God that I can bring back the
dead? Roland my nephew is dead; Roland my captain and my friend is
dead. Nay, take time and mourn with us all, and when thy heart is
healed I will give thee Louis mine own son, who will sit after me upon
the throne. Take Louis in his stead."
Hilda cried not, nor uttered sound. The color faded from her face, and
straightway she fell dead at the king's feet.
HOW THIERRY VANQUISHED GANELON
By Sir George W. Cox
It is written in the old chronicle, that after these things Charles
sent and summoned many men from many lands to come and try if Ganelon
had done him a treason or no; for the twenty thousand who were
betrayed being dead and the pagans utterly destroyed, there was none
left to bear witness against him. So the king sent and fetched Ganelon
up out of prison and set him on his trial. Howbeit Ganelon contrived
to get thirty of his kinsfolk chosen among his judges, and chief of
them Pinabel, a man of great stature and strength of limb. Moreover,
Pinabel was a ready man to pick a quarrel with any; a man cunning of
tongue and very rich and powerful, so that people feared him greatly.
These thirty Ganelon bribed, with part of the price he took from King
Marsilius for the treason, to give judgment for him. Then Pinabel and
the others went to and fro among the judges and persuaded them,
saying: "We have no witnesses, only Ganelon himself, and what saith
he? He owns he hated Roland, and for that cause he challenged Roland,
in the presence of the king and all his court, to fight when he
returned from his mission. The open challenger is not the betrayer in
secret. Moreover, had he done this thing, would Ganelon have come back
again to King Charles? Besides, would any man betray an army of his
friends to rid himself of a single enemy? Blood enough has been shed.
Slaying Ganelon will not bring Roland back. The Franks are angry since
they have lost their captain, and blindly clamor for a victim. Heed
not their foolish cry, for Ganelon has done no treason." To this the
others all agreed, save Thierry, the son of Duke Geoffrey; and he
would not.
The judges came to King Charles and said, "We find that Ganelon has
done nothing worthy of death. Let him live and take anew the oath of
fealty to France and the king." Then the king was grieved, and said,
"It misgives me you have played me false. In my esteem the judgment is
not just. Nevertheless, it is judgment: only God can alter it."
Then stepped forth the youth Thierry, Geoffrey's son. He was but a
lad, very little and slender of body, and slight of limb. And he said,
"Let not the king be sad. I Thierry do impeach Ganelon as a felon and
a traitor who betrayed Roland and the rear-guard to the pagans, and I
also say that thirty of Ganelon's kinsfolk have wrought treason and
corrupted judgment. And this will I maintain with my sword, and prove
upon the body of any man who will come to defend him or them." Thereto
to pledge himself he drew off his right glove and gave it to the king
for a gage.
Pinabel strode forward, a giant among the throng. He looked down upon
the lad Thierry and despised him; he came to the king and gave his
glove, saying, "I will fight this battle to the death." The Franks
pitied Thierry and feared for him, for they had hoped Naymes or Olger
or some mighty champion would have undertaken the cause, and not a
stripling. But Charles the king said, "God will show the right." So
they made ready the lists; and the king commanded Ganelon and his
thirty kinsmen to be held in pledge against the issue.
The battle was done in a green meadow near to Aachen in presence of
the king and his barons and a great multitude of people. First the men
rode together and tilted till their spears brake and the saddle-girths
gave way; then they left their steeds and fought on foot. Thierry was
wondrous quick and agile, and wearied Pinabel at the outset by his
swift sword-play; but Thierry's hand was weak against his sturdy
adversary, and his sword point pierced not mail nor shield. Pinabel
clave his helm and hewed great pieces off his mail, but could not slay
him. Then said Pinabel, "Fool, why should I kill thee? Give up the
battle and the cause, and I will be thy man henceforth in faith and
fealty. It shall prove greatly for thy profit to reconcile Ganelon and
the king."
Thierry answered, "I will not parley; God will surely show whether of
us twain be right! Guard thyself." So they fell to again, and all men
saw that nothing would now part them till one was dead; and
straightway they gave the lad Thierry up for lost. Pinabel's sword was
heavy, and great the strength of his arm. He smote Thierry a blow upon
the helm that sliced off visor and ventailles. But Thierry lifted up
his sword and struck the brown steel helm of Pinabel. God put His
might into the young man's arm, for the blade cleft steel and skull,
and entered Pinabel's brain, so that he reeled and dropped down
dead. Then all the people shouted, "God hath spoken! Away with Ganelon
and his fellows."
Then King Charles raised up his hands to heaven and gave thanks, and
taking Thierry in his arms embraced him for joy, and with his own
hands took off his armor, and he set the noblest in the land to tend
his wounds.
King Charles sat in judgment in his palace at Aachen.
He said, "Take the thirty kinsmen of Ganelon, perverters of justice,
let not one escape, and hang them." Blithely the Franks obeyed his
word.
But Ganelon he caused to be drawn and quartered; and thus did Charles
the king make an end of his vengeance for his guard.
This is the song which Turold used to sing.
RINALDO AND BAYARD
By Thomas Bulfinch
Charlemagne was overwhelmed with grief at the loss of so many of his
bravest warriors at the disaster of Roncesvalles, and bitterly
reproached himself for his credulity in resigning himself so
completely to the counsels of the treacherous Count Ganelon. Yet he
soon fell into a similar snare when he suffered his unworthy son
Charlot to acquire such an influence over him, that he constantly led
him into acts of cruelty and injustice that in his right mind he would
have scorned to commit. Rinaldo and his brothers, for some slight
offence to the imperious young prince, were forced to fly from Paris,
and to take shelter in their castle of Montalban; for Charles had
publicly said, if he could take them, he would hang them all. He sent
numbers of his bravest knights to arrest them, but all without
success. Either Rinaldo foiled their efforts and sent them back,
stripped of their armor and of their glory, or, after meeting and
conferring with him, they came back and told the king they could not
be his instruments for such a work.
At last Charles himself raised a great army, and went in person to
compel the paladin to submit. He ravaged all the country round about
Montalban, so that supplies of food should be cut off, and he
threatened death to any who should attempt to issue forth, hoping to
compel the garrison to submit for want of food.
Rinaldo's resources had been brought so low that it seemed useless to
contend any longer. His brothers had been taken prisoners in a
skirmish, and his only hope of saving their lives was in making terms
with the king.
So he sent a messenger, offering to yield himself and his castle if
the king would spare his and his brothers' lives. While the messenger
was gone, Rinaldo, impatient to learn what tidings he might bring,
rode out to meet him. When he had ridden as far as he thought prudent
he stopped in a wood, and, alighting, tied Bayard to a tree. Then he
sat down, and, as he waited, he fell asleep. Bayard meanwhile got
loose, and strayed away where the grass tempted him. Just then came
along some country people, who said to one another, "Look, is not that
the great horse Bayard that Rinaldo rides? Let us take him, and carry
him to King Charles, who will pay us well for our trouble." They did
so, and the king was delighted with his prize, and gave them a present
that made them rich to their dying day.
When Rinaldo woke he looked round for his horse, and, finding him not,
he groaned, and said, "O unlucky hour that I was born! how fortune
persecutes me!" So desperate was he, that he took off his armor and
his spurs, saying, "What need have I of these, since Bayard is lost?"
While he stood thus lamenting, a man came from the thicket, seemingly
bent with age. He had a long beard hanging over his breast, and
eyebrows that almost covered his eyes. He bade Rinaldo good
day. Rinaldo thanked him, and said, "A good day I have hardly had
since I was born." Then said the old man, "Signor Rinaldo, you must
not despair, for God will make all things turn to the best." Rinaldo
answered, "My trouble is too heavy for me to hope relief. The king has
taken my brothers, and means to put them to death. I thought to rescue
them by means of my horse Bayard, but while I slept some thief has
stolen him." The old man replied, "I will remember you and your
brothers in my prayers. I am a poor man, have you not something to
give me?" Rinaldo said, "I have nothing to give," but then he
recollected his spurs. He gave them to the beggar, and said, "Here,
take my spurs. They are the first present my mother gave me when my
father, Count Aymon, dubbed me knight. They ought to bring you ten
pounds."
The old man took the spurs, and put them into his sack, and said,
"Noble sir, have you nothing else you can give me?" Rinaldo replied,
"Are you making sport of me? I tell you truly if it were not for shame
to beat one so helpless, I would teach you better manners." The old
man said, "Of a truth, sir, if you did so, you would do a great sin.
If all had beaten me of whom I have begged, I should have been killed
long ago, for I ask alms in churches and convents, and wherever I
can." "You say true," replied Rinaldo, "if you did not ask, none would
relieve you." The old man said, "True, noble sir, therefore I pray if
you have anything more to spare, give it me." Rinaldo gave him his
mantle, and said, "Take it, pilgrim. I give it you for the love of
Christ, that God would save my brothers from a shameful death, and
help me to escape out of King Charles's power."
The pilgrim took the mantle, folded it up, and put it into his
bag. Then a third time he said to Rinaldo, "Sir, have you nothing left
to give me that I may remember you in my prayers?" "Wretch!"
exclaimed Rinaldo, "do you make me your sport?" and he drew his sword,
and struck at him; but the old man warded off the blow with his staff,
and said, "Rinaldo, would you slay your cousin, Malagigi?" When
Rinaldo heard that he stayed his hand, and gazed doubtingly on the old
man, who now threw aside his disguise, and appeared to be indeed
Malagigi. "Dear cousin," said Rinaldo, "pray forgive me. I did not
know you. Next to God, my trust is in you. Help my brothers to escape
out of prison, I entreat you. I have lost my horse, and therefore
cannot render them any assistance." Malagigi answered, "Cousin
Rinaldo, I will enable you to recover your horse. Meanwhile, you must
do as I say."
Then Malagigi took from his sack a gown, and gave it to Rinaldo to put
on over his armor, and a hat that was full of holes, and an old pair
of shoes to put on. They looked like two pilgrims, very old and
poor. Then they went forth from the wood, and, after a little while,
saw four monks riding along the road. Malagigi said to Rinaldo, "I
will go meet the monks, and see what news I can learn."
Malagigi learned from the monks that on the approaching festival there
would be a great crowd of people at court, for the prince was going to
show the ladies the famous horse Bayard that used to belong to
Rinaldo. "What!" said the pilgrim; "is Bayard there?" "Yes," answered
the monks; "the king has given him to Charlot, and, after the prince
has ridden him, the king means to pass sentence on the brothers of
Rinaldo, and have them hanged." Then Malagigi asked alms of the
monks, but they would give him none, till he threw aside his pilgrim
garb, and let them see his armor, when, partly for charity and partly
for terror, they gave him a golden cup, adorned with precious stones
that sparkled in the sunshine.
Malagigi then hastened back to Rinaldo, and told him what he had
learned.
The morning of the feast-day Rinaldo and Malagigi came to the place
where the sports were to be held. Malagigi gave Rinaldo his spurs back
again, and said, "Cousin, put on your spurs, for you will need them."
"How shall I need them," said Rinaldo, "since I have lost my horse?"
Yet he did as Malagigi directed him.
When the two had taken their stand on the border of the field among
the crowd, the princes and ladies of the court began to assemble. When
they were all assembled, the king came also, and Charlot with him,
near whom the horse Bayard was led, in the charge of grooms, who were
expressly enjoined to guard him safely. The king, looking round on the
circle of spectators, saw Malagigi and Rinaldo, and observed the
splendid cup that they had, and said to Chariot, "See, my son, what a
brilliant cup those two pilgrims have got. It seems to be worth a
hundred ducats." "That is true," said Chariot; "let us go and ask
where they got it." So they rode to the place where the pilgrims
stood, and Chariot stopped Bayard close to them.
The horse snuffed at the pilgrims, knew Rinaldo, and caressed his
master. The king said to Malagigi, "Friend, where did you get that
beautiful cup?" Malagigi replied, "Honorable sir, I paid for it all
the money I have saved from eleven years' begging in churches and
convents. The Pope himself has blessed it." Then said the king to
Chariot, "My son, these are right holy men; see how the dumb beast
worships them."
Then the king said to Malagigi, "Give me a morsel from your cup, that
I may be cleared of my sins." Malagigi answered, "Illustrious lord, I
dare not do it, unless you will forgive all who have at any time
offended you. You know that Christ forgave all those who had betrayed
and crucified him." The king replied, "Friend, that is true; but
Rinaldo has so grievously offended me, that I cannot forgive him, nor
that other man, Malagigi, the magician. These two shall never live in
my kingdom again. If I catch them, I will certainly have them
hanged. But tell me, pilgrim, who is that man who stands beside you?"
"He is deaf, dumb, and blind," said Malagigi. Then the king said
again, "Give me to drink of your cup, to take away my sins." Malagigi
answered, "My lord king, here is my poor brother, who for fifty days
has not heard, spoken, nor seen. This misfortune befell him in a house
where we found shelter, and the day before yesterday we met with a
wise woman, who told him the only hope of a cure for him was to come
to some place where Bayard was to be ridden, and to mount and ride
him; that would do him more good than anything else." Then said the
king, "Friend, you have come to the right place, for Bayard is to be
ridden here to-day. Give me a draught from your cup, and your
companion shall ride upon Bayard." Malagigi, hearing these words,
said, "Be it so." Then the king, with great devotion, took a spoon,
and dipped a portion from the pilgrim's cup, believing that his sins
should be thereby forgiven.
When this was done, the king said to Chariot, "Son, I request that you
will let this sick pilgrim sit on your horse, and ride if he can, for
by so doing he will be healed of all his infirmities." Chariot
replied, "That will I gladly do." So saying, he dismounted, and the
servants took the pilgrim in their arms, and helped him on the horse.
When Rinaldo was mounted, he put his feet in the stirrups, and said,
"I would like to ride a little." Malagigi, hearing him speak, seemed
delighted, and asked him whether he could see and hear also. "Yes,"
said Rinaldo, "I am healed of all my infirmities." When the king heard
it, he said to Bishop Turpin, "My lord bishop, we must celebrate this
with a procession, with crosses and banners, for it is a great
miracle."
When Rinaldo remarked that he was not carefully watched, he spoke to
the horse, and touched him with the spurs. Bayard knew that his master
was upon him, and he started off upon a rapid pace, and in a few
moments was a good way off. Malagigi pretended to be in great
alarm. "O noble king and master," he cried, "my poor companion is run
away with; he will fall and break his neck." The king ordered his
knights to ride after the pilgrim, and bring him back, or help him if
need were. They did so, but it was in vain. Rinaldo left them all
behind him, and kept on his way till he reached Montalban. Malagigi
was suffered to depart, unsuspected, and he went his way, making sad
lamentation for the fate of his comrade, who he pretended to think
must surely be dashed to pieces.
Malagigi did not go far, but, having changed his disguise, returned to
where the king was, and employed his best art in getting the brothers
of Rinaldo out of prison. He succeeded; and all three got safely to
Montalban, where Rinaldo's joy at the rescue of his brothers and the
recovery of Bayard was more than tongue can tell.
HOW THE CHILD OF THE SEA WAS MADE KNIGHT
[Footnote: The young Amadis, son of King Perion of Gaul, was called by
his father the Child of the Sea because he was born on the sea.]
By Robert Southey
King Falangiez reigned in Great Britain, and died without children. He
left a brother Lisuarte, of great goodness in arms, and much
discretion, who had married Brisena, daughter of the King of Denmark;
and she was the fairest lady that was to be found in all the islands
of the sea. After the death of the king the chief men of his land sent
for Lisuarte to be their king.
When King Lisuarte heard this embassage he set sail with a great
fleet, and on their way they put into Scotland, where he was honorably
received by King Languines. Brisena, his wife, was with him, and their
daughter Oriana, born in Denmark and then about ten years old, the
fairest creature that ever was seen, wherefore she was called the one
without a peer. And because she suffered much at sea it was determined
to leave her there. Right gladly did King Languines accept this
charge, and his queen said: "Believe me, I will take care of her like
her own mother." So Lisuarte proceeded. * * *
The Child of the Sea was now twelve years old, but in stature and size
he seemed fifteen, and he served the queen; but now that Oriana was
there the queen gave her the Child of the Sea that he should serve
her, and Oriana said that it pleased her; and that word which she said
the child kept in his heart, so that he never lost it from his memory,
and in all his life he was never weary of serving her, and his heart
was surrendered to her, and his love lasted as long as they lasted,
for as well as he loved her did she also love him. But the Child of
the Sea, who knew nothing of her love, thought himself presumptuous to
have placed his thoughts on her, and dared not speak to her; and she
who loved him in her heart was careful riot to speak more with him
than with another; but their eyes delighted to reveal to the heart
what was the thing on earth that they loved best. And now the time
came that he thought he could take arms if he were knighted, and this
he greatly desired, thinking that he could do such things that, if he
lived, his mistress would esteem him. With this desire he went to the
king, who was at that time in the garden, and fell upon his knees
before him, and said, "Sire, if it please you, it is time for me to
receive knighthood." "How, Child of the Sea?" said Languines, "are
you strong enough to maintain knighthood? it is easy to receive, but
difficult to maintain; and he who would keep it well, so many and so
difficult are the things he must achieve, that his heart will often be
troubled; and if, through fear, he forsakes what he ought to do,
better is death to him than life with shame." "Not for this," replied
he, "will I fail to be a knight; my heart would not require it, if it
were not in my will to accomplish what you say. And since you have
bred me up, complete what you ought to do in this; if not, I will seek
some other who will do it." The king, who feared lest he should do
this, replied, "Child of the Sea, I know when this is fitting better
than you can know, and I promise you to do it, and your arms shall be
got ready; but to whom did you think to go?" "To King Perion, who they
say is a good knight, and has married the sister of your queen. I
would tell him how I was brought up by her, and then he would
willingly fulfil my desire." "Now," said the king, "be satisfied, it
shall be honourably done." And he gave orders that the arms should be
made, and sent to acquaint Gandales thereof.
When Gandales heard this, he greatly rejoiced; and sent a damsel with
the sword and the ring and the letter in the wax, which he had found
in the ark. The Child of the Sea was with Oriana and the ladies of
the palace, discoursing, when a page entered and told him there was a
strange damsel without who brought presents for him, and would speak
with him. When she who loved him heard this her heart trembled, and if
any one had been looking at her he might have seen how she changed;
and she told the Child of the Sea to let the damsel come in, that they
might see the presents. Accordingly she entered, and said, "Sir Child
of the Sea, your good friend Gandales salutes you as the man who loves
you much, and sends you this sword and this ring and this wax, and he
begs you will wear this sword while you live for his sake." He took
the presents, and laid the ring and the wax in his lap, while he
unrolled the sword from a linen cloth in which it was wrapt, wondering
that it should be without a scabbard. Meantime Oriana took up the wax,
and said, "I will have this," not thinking that it contained anything:
it would have better pleased him if she had taken the ring, which was
one of the finest in the world. While he was looking at the sword, the
king came in and asked him what he thought of it. "It seems a goodly
one, sir," said he, "but I marvel wherefore it hath no scabbard." "It
is fifteen years," said the king, "since it had one"; and, taking him
by the hand, he led him apart, and said, "You would be a knight, and
you know not whether of right you should be one. I therefore tell you
all that I know concerning you." And with that he told him all that
Gandales had communicated. The Child of the Sea answered, "I believe
this; for the damsel said my good friend Gandales had sent her, and I
thought she had mistaken, and should have called him my father; but am
nothing displeased herewith, except that I know not my parents, nor
they me, for my breast tells me I am well born; and now, sir, it
behoves me more to obtain knighthood, that I may win honour and the
praise of prowess, since I know not my lineage, and am like one whose
kindred are all dead." When the king heard him speak thus, he believed
that he would prove a hardy and good knight.