Afar down the centuries in the good year 779 A.D., on a certain
afternoon in the golden month of August, the greatest excitement was
visible about the palace of the great Emperor Charlemagne at Paris. The
royal armies, headed by that great warrior, had been victorious over
the Saracens, in which battle “Guesdelin, the Sluggard,” their general,
had been killed, and he, surrounded by his victorious legions, had
returned to Paris in triumph to celebrate the _fêtes_ of the Pentecost
in company of his brilliant court. Although in that sanguinary battle
he had met with the deplorable loss of several of his bravest knights,
Noel, Count of Mans, Arnoue de Froulon, Albert de Bouillon, Solomon de
Bretagne and a number of others; nevertheless the _fêtes_ were not made
less brilliant by the absence of these brave men. There had assembled
at Paris for his great occasion, all the dukes and peers of France with
their glittering retinues, and with them also came many princes and
noblemen from other courts of Europe to assist in the festivities.
Among all that brilliant assemblage the most remarked were the brave
Duke d’Aymon, Lord of Dordogne, and his four gigantic sons, Maugis,
Allard, Guichard and Richard, all handsome and courageous young men.
Maugis, above the others, commanded the admiration of the entire
court, his height, for he was seven feet tall, his valor and his great
learning, for he was the pupil of a pundit whose life had been saved by
his father during the Saracenic wars, and who had enriched his young
charge from his vast store of occult knowledge, had made him renowned
already, and it was generally conceded that he was destined for a great
career.
The great audience chamber was packed with this brilliant assemblage
on that August afternoon, and the babble of voices that filled the air
fell into a profound hush upon the entry of the emperor.
Unbefitting the joy of the occasion, his brow was clouded by a deep
frown, and gazing upon the sea of upturned faces before him for awhile,
he arose from his throne and amid a great silence addressed them in
these words:
“Brave knights, your valor has aided me in the highest degree to
overcome the enemy, to conquer many cities, and obtain the submission
of their people. But alas! to secure these grand results we have the
sorrow to lose many of our noblest born. Bad enough as this is there
is yet another matter that deeply incenses me and of this I now speak.
Because Gerard de Roussillon, the Duke of Nantueil, and the Duke de
Beuves d’Aigremont, all three of them our brothers and our subjects,
refused me their aid, I now make complaint against them. Believing in
their oaths of allegiance to me I surely counted upon their aid, and
without their force or aid was compelled to engage superior numbers.
It is to Solomon, who came to our succor with thirty thousand troops,
and Lambert, and Galeron de Bordeille, and Berruger, to whom is due our
victories.”
At this point the emperor rose to his full height, and with eyes
flashing, continued: “I now declare to you that I shall once more
appeal to the Duke Beuves d’Aigremont to fulfill his allegiance and
if he still resists I shall lay siege to his dominions; if I become
aroused I will not stop at taking life. I will flay him alive, send
his wife and his son Renaud to the stake, and give their country up to
pillage.”
At these savage words, uttered with the utmost anger, the Duke de
Naimes, who was considered to be the wisest man of the court, arose and
responded to the king:
“Sire, employ all possible means to avoid war, which is always cruel
to the people whom you govern. Therefore send to the Duke d’Aigremont
a man who is capable, sure and faithful and one in whom you can place
your entire confidence, one who combines all the qualities of _finesse_
and prudence required by the importance of this mission. Let him go to
the duke and present to him his forgetfulness of his oath to you in
such terms of consideration and without pride of manner as will have
the most effect and then let the answer your majesty receives govern
the determination as to what course your majesty will take.”
The king, strongly impressed by this sensible advice, adopted it, but
was much embarrassed to make a selection of a man sufficiently discreet
and courageous to fulfill such a perilous mission—one who had neither
fear of the menaces of the famous duke, or the tried warriors of his
family. He finally chose his own son Lothaire, who accepted with all
the submission of a son and loyal subject, not without having demanded
the benediction of his royal father, the blessing of heaven, and at the
same time prayed God to care for his family.
Charlemagne had no sooner made this decision when he was assailed with
the most dire presentiments, and his depression was only increased when
the following morning he saw the departure of his son and his suite,
composed of one hundred brave knights, well armed and equipped. It
seemed to the unhappy king as if he was gazing for the last time on
the face of his well-beloved son, and the while regretted keenly that
etiquette would not allow a monarch to go himself as ambassador and
demand an account of a disloyal subject of his rebellion.
News traveled very quickly even in those olden days, and it was not
long before the Duke d’Aigremont was informed of the departure of the
cavalcade at the head of which gayly rode the young prince, and thanks
to the activity of his spies, the news came to D’Aigremont the moment
of the reunion of his barons at his castle to celebrate the _fêtes_ of
Pentecost and to participate in the tournaments and games which were
customary at that epoch. Enraged at the fact of an embassy approaching
him on such a mission, and desiring to hasten his expression of
insubordination, he at once announced to his barons his intention of
giving offense to the king, and addressed them in these words:
“What now, sirs! the king not only makes the mistake of pretending to
make me and my people serve him, but he sends his oldest son to me to
make me menaces. What would you do under such circumstances were you in
my place?”
He had among his knights some men who were very true and sincere in
their counsel and who did not hesitate to speak plainly. One Sir Simon
was called upon and expressed himself thus:
“Monseigneur, a man who resists his king, who, after his God, is his
lord and master, makes an offense against heaven and justice. What do
you propose to do? Sustain your disobedience by force of arms? We are
all ready to shed our blood to the last drop, if may be, in the cause
of justice, and our valor will never allow us to yield to numbers,
but what will be our fate if we are defeated? How can you expect the
clemency of the king if you refuse to receive his son? Have you no fear
of the fate of a rebellious subject?”
The Duke d’Aigremont would not allow him to finish. Sparks of fire shot
from his eyes, their pupils dilated and he menaced his loyal servitor
for having ventured to speak so freely.
The duchess, on her part, fearful of the result, conjured the
inflexible man to listen to the counsels of his true friends and to
again seek to enter into the good graces of the king; when, however,
the matter was submitted to the assemblage, there was a great division
of opinion. This is why the advice of the good duchess was opposed by
some and satisfied others.
The Duke d’Aigremont insisted on his intention of declining to serve
the king and refused to listen while, said he, he had three brothers
from whom he had a right to expect support, without counting his four
nephews, the sons of the Duke d’Aymon, without doubt the most valiant
warriors of the kingdom.
Meanwhile, during the occurrence of these scenes, the cavalcade of
Lothaire came into view of the castle. He had never seen a fortress in
a more formidable position, situated as it was on a high and almost
inaccessible rock at the foot of which a deep river ran.
“Indeed, your highness,” said the commander of the escort to the young
prince, “yon is a formidable place truly.” The castle had now come more
fully into view and as its tall battlements flanked by two high towers
arose on high, outlined against the blue sky, the prince only smiled
and replied:
“Tut! Gaston, the sight of such an obstacle only incites me the more to
fulfill the mission intrusted me, and nothing shall retard me.”
In due time, to the sound of a lively fanfare by his heralds, Prince
Lothaire stood before the gates of the castle and was admitted to the
great court that was ominously guarded by grim soldiery.
The Duke d’Aigremont received him in the great audience-chamber seated
upon his throne. Beside him were his wife and son Renaud. Lothaire
advanced to the duke to acquaint him with his mission, but instead of
talking with moderation and following the counsels of the principal
knights of his suite, he forgot all reserve and with a haughty mien
spoke as follows:
“Woe to the servant who disobeys his master! Monseigneur! Charlemagne
is irritated against you because you have not obeyed his commands. He
demands to know your reasons. Also am I come by his commands to promise
you his pardon, provided you will at once place yourself at his mercy
and make oath to send him five hundred knights. If you persist in your
refusal you shall receive no pity. Punishments most cruel will be
visited upon thee and thine, and the loss of all thy domains and all
thy subjects will be the consequence of thy obstinacy. I require an
immediate answer. Decide quickly, for Charlemagne awaits my return with
impatience.”
At these bold and indiscreet words the Duke d’Aigremont bounded to his
feet enraged.
“By Saint Gris!” he cried, “tell thy father, Charlemagne, that not only
do I refuse his appeal to assist him in war, but that I will myself
make war upon him. I will come with my own army and destroy the kingdom
of France.”
“Thou traitor!” shouted Lothaire in reply, forgetting all restraint and
refusing the warnings of his suite to conduct himself moderately.
Those old days were grim times—there was very little between a word and
a blow.
“Have a care, young man,” hissed D’Aigremont, his eyes blazing. “You
will never return to thy father.”
“Traitor and coward!” hotly responded the prince, drawing his sword.
The duke, upon this, unsheathed his own sword and sprang upon Lothaire,
his knights threw themselves upon the suite of the prince, and the
_mêlée_ became general.
The great audience-chamber rang with sounds of blows, oaths, shouts,
and the cries of the wounded and dying.
[Illustration: THE HAUNTED BATTLEFIELD.]
Prince Lothaire was everywhere, his sword seemed invincible, a man fell
at every stroke. Even when the Duke d’Aigremont appeared before him
he barely resisted the furious onward rush of Lothaire and fell back
staggering and wounded from a terrible stroke of his sword. But quickly
recovering, in his turn he struck down the prince with all his force,
and such was his fury he did not leave the mangled remains until he had
cut off the head of his opponent.
Meantime in battle around them the men of the prince had fought
bravely, although greatly outnumbered. Of the one hundred men composing
the suite, only twenty remained alive, and these, seeing the fall of
their chief commander, surrendered. The infuriated duke ordered all but
ten of them to be killed, and these he made swear solemnly that they
would carry the remains of the prince back to Paris.
“Tell him, thy master,” said he, “that here is the body of thy son. Be
assured I shall not wait idly for thee to come and succor it.”
The ten knights having given their word to report these words
faithfully, put the remains of Lothaire in a chariot and departed
sorrowfully homeward.
In the meantime, Charlemagne, much disquieted at not receiving news of
his son, openly manifested his fears. The sinister presentiments he had
had made him think his son was dead, then in an access of rage he made
the most terrible threats against the Duke d’Aigremont.
“I will go,” said he, “at the head of an army and reduce him to the
most cruel extremities.”
Those surrounding him endeavored to calm him and convince him that
it would be impossible for the Duke d’Aigremont to be capable of so
infamous an action.
“If ever,” cried the Duke d’Aymon, “the Duke d’Aigremont has committed
such a crime, he should be served with a startling vengeance. Who among
us would refuse you support? For me, sire! and my four sons, count on
our loyalty and courage.”
“I am deeply moved by thy fidelity, my good Aymon,” replied the king.
“Many affairs have so occupied me that I have not yet seen thy four
brave sons. Do thou present them to me on the morrow that I may arm
them in a style befitting their high rank.”
Following upon this, the next day, in the presence of the whole
court, Charlemagne formally knighted Maugis and presented him with a
magnificent suit of armor that he had himself taken from the King of
Cyprus, who had fallen under his own hand at Paraplumex. Then the king
embraced him. Maugis had then placed upon his feet the golden spurs of
Oger, the Dane, after which he sprang upon the back of his favorite
horse, Bayard, whose name has come down to us in poetry and song as
one of the most perfect animals that ever existed.
The three brothers of Maugis were equally well armed and knighted.
Following these ceremonies, Charlemagne gave a tournament in their
honor, at which the young men so acquitted themselves as to win the
admiration of everyone.
Maugis, having defeated one of the most skillful knights of
Charlemagne’s court, while riding around the lists toward the station
of the king, amid the tumultuous plaudits of the onlookers, was stopped
in his course by seeing a tiny glove tied with a knot of blue ribbon
fall at his feet. Hastily dismounting and recovering it he looked up
among the sea of faces regarding him and his eye was arrested by a
beautiful figure seated beside a stalwart warrior, one of the guests of
the court.
When two beautiful blue eyes met his own, their glance sought his heart
direct; even as a moonbeam will kiss a placid pool and glorify it, so
was the heart of Maugis gladdened. He failed not during the few seconds
of the episode to note the tall willowy figure and the shapely head
which was soon hidden blushing behind the shoulder of her brother,
shrinking from the too ardent gaze of the young knight. Neither failed
he to note that her slender waist was encircled by a sash of the same
hue as the ribbon on the glove he held in his hand.
Little did he know the vicissitudes that would afterward divide their
lives and pursue them when united—he only loved and was happy.
Reverently kissing the glove, Maugis placed it on his helmet and
thereafter performed such deeds of valor and prowess that everyone
was amazed. Charlemagne hastened to swear the four brothers into his
service, and insisted that Maugis should never quit him. Still no news
of Lothaire. The entire court was depressed. The king, accompanied by
the Duke of Naimes, took long walks on the banks of the Seine, their
favorite promenade, and there alone with his most intimate friend, the
king poured out to him all his hopes and fears. One day while taking
their accustomed walk, they saw at a great distance a cavalier covered
with dust approach them at a gallop. They both at the same instant
recognized him as one of the suite of Lothaire. Charlemagne, turning
pale, threw himself into the arms of the Duke of Naimes.
“My son is dead,” he cried, “and it is I who am his murderer. How much
better it would have been if, instead of showing clemency to the Duke
of Aigremont, I had marched upon him at the head of an army. I would
not have been to-day mourning the death of my son.”
At this moment the messenger knight, who had ridden night and day to
bring the tidings, presented himself before them and announced the
bloody death of Lothaire, which having done, overcome with fatigue, he
fell at the feet of Charlemagne and expired.
A most touching scene then occurred between the emperor and his
confidant. Both wept and amid their tears sought to console each other.
“Why shed tears?” said the Duke de Naimes, “our regrets will not bring
back the prince to life. It is vengeance we must have now. To punish
the murderer is, above all, our sole aim. God, who never abandons those
who battle for the right, will sustain us. Here, it is not only the
father who fights the assassin of his son, it is the sovereign who
demands account of the blood of his ambassador.”
This energetic discourse had the effect intended by the duke.
Charlemagne, with his face resolute, laid aside his sorrowings and gave
orders to his knights, courtiers and soldiers for the disposition of
the remains of his son. An immense _cortége_ accompanied the body to
the church of St. Germain des Pres, where the final obsequies occurred.
After the ceremony terminated, when Charlemagne was returning
sorrowfully to Paris with his suite, revolving in his mind projects
of vengeance, a messenger brought to him the startling intelligence
that the Duke d’Aymon and his four sons had suddenly left the court
and had quitted Paris. At this the king became so enraged and swore so
violently that it was all in vain the courtiers sought to calm him by
calling his attention to the fact that the Duke d’Aymon was the own
brother of the Duke d’Aigremont, who had murdered his son, and when he
left his sons were in duty bound to accompany him. Charlemagne could
listen to nothing, but finally becoming more calm, demanded to know the
real reason for the departure of the five knights.
It was reported to him that the Duke d’Aymon de Dordogne, being made
aware of the death of Lothaire and of the felony of his brother
d’Aigremont, called his sons together in council. He felt that they
were in a false position owing to the shameful defection of their
relative, and he realized that Charlemagne, in his just anger, would
take a terrible revenge. What should they do? What course should they
take? Support Charlemagne and thus aid in the destruction of their
relative, or embrace the cause of Aigremont and violate their oath to
the emperor?
Said Maugis: “I propose that we leave the court, retire to the
Ardennes, and remain there to witness the result. By doing this neither
party could accuse us of treason, for until we have taken a final
decision we would have neither violated the ties of relationship nor
the laws of friendship.”
This proposition was agreed to by all, and they immediately left the
court and set out upon their journey home.
Though the motive of their sudden departure was honorable,
Charlemagne, irritated not to have the help of five men of renowned
valor, would consider no excuse and swore against them a war of
extermination.
While the court of Charlemagne was engaged in active preparations,
Aymon and his four sons gained in all haste their domains in the
Ardennes, where Edwige, the wife of the duke, received them with joy.
After the first moments consecrated to greeting, Edwige would know the
news from Paris.
Alas! the joy of the poor mother was short-lived when she was apprised
of the cause of their return.
Edwige was at the same time allied by marriage to the house of
Charlemagne and to that of Aigremont. Her course was very difficult to
choose; but having carefully reflected, she said to her husband and
sons:
“Why do you hesitate to march with Charlemagne? He is your lord and
has armed our sons; this thought should carry you to that side. The
crime of our relative is infamous and inexcusable, and think you that
the emperor, after having chastised the criminal, will not follow it
up by attacking the traitors who have aided his enemies by a passive
assistance, and who have, by so doing, diminished the forces of the
royal army?
“The crime of D’Aigremont is unpardonable. An ambassador is sacred in
all cases and it is violating those usages and those laws, recognized
by all mankind, and more, his act has plunged the king into the
deepest sorrow by cutting the throat of his son, who came in the name
of his father to claim those sacred rights a sovereign has over his
princes. If Aigremont conquers, how much will your conscience reproach
you for not having aided in the punishment of the culpable. If on the
other hand, he is vanquished, have you not good reason to fear the
conqueror, who has insults and infidelity to avenge? The best thing to
do is to take my advice, return to the emperor at once and serve him
faithfully.”
The truth and justice of these words made a profound impression on the
father and his sons, but the young knights did not relish the idea of
returning to Paris, so they formed their plans to pass some time at the
château of their father. Meanwhile, Charlemagne was actively occupied
in raising his army. In response to his call, all the peers and knights
were assembling their vassals on their estates.
May 18th was the time fixed for the assemblage of the army on the
Champs-de-Mars at Paris.
The subjects of the emperor were not a single instant behind the day
set.
On the part of the Duke d’Aigremont, he, knowing full well that the
king would never pardon his crime, gave every attention to putting
himself in defense, and made the rounds of his entire domain.
After a time he had raised a considerable army. His brothers, Gerard
de Roussillon and the Duke de Nanteuil, also joined him with a number
of soldiers.
When his army was complete, D’Aigremont deemed it wise to go out and
meet the king, before he could besiege him in his own country, having
respect for an enemy so bitter and active as Charlemagne. In fact the
king, anxious to secure his revenge, would permit no one to place
his troops. He would do that himself. He confined his advance guard
to Gallerand de Bouillon, Nemours, Gui de Baviere, Oger, Richard and
Eatonville. The rearguard was commanded by the Duke of Naimes.
The center he reserved for himself, and having made this disposition of
his forces his army set out.
Hardly had the march commenced when he was informed by a deserter of
the advance of the army of the Duke d’Aigremont to meet him, and that
he had already invaded Champagne and was laying siege to Troyes with
great activity, which news caused him to throw forward the detachments
of the Duke de Naimes, the Duke de Bouillon and Godefroy de Frise, with
orders to await the arrival of the main army, a short distance from the
besieged city.
De Roussillon, who commanded the advance guard of D’Aigremont, soon
perceived the advance guard of the king’s army and giving his war-cry,
at once charged upon them, to which the army of Charlemagne responded,
and the two armies met with a terrible shock, and so fierce was the
onset that the ground was soon strewn with the wounded and dying and
the _débris_ of arms.
The Duke d’Aigremont charged upon Oger and stretched him senseless
at his feet. Gerard and Nanteuil came quickly to join their brother,
followed by the best of their troops, and hurled themselves on the
enemy with renewed fury. Then were performed acts of the greatest
valor. Richard de Normandy, who commanded the allies, made a heroic
resistance. Spearmen from Lombardy, bowmen from Germany and Portevin,
in serried ranks offered an indestructible line of battle. One knight,
with more hardihood than the others, hurled himself against them in the
endeavor to break it, and received his death by a lance-thrust from
Gerard.
The three brothers, seeing that they could obtain no chance for success
from that side, renewed their efforts by hurling themselves on the army
of Charlemagne.
At the first shock the forces of Gallerand de Bouillon were nearly
thrown from their feet. It was a moment requiring all their tenacity.
Many were killed on both sides, but Charlemagne, with a prudence
that never deserted him, even in the most perilous moments, allowed
D’Aigremont and his brother to become engaged more and more until he
found a favorite moment, and then moved his troops quickly around the
flank of their forces and caught them in the rear.
The duke had been wounded by Richard de Normandy, and his life was only
saved by the fall of his horse, which tumbled under a stroke of the
sword intended for him.
Retreat now became the last resource of the army of the Duke
d’Aigremont and the order was given and the battalions that had started
out so brilliantly in the morning commenced to retire in good order.
Charlemagne at once saw the movement, and calling to him the Duke de
Naimes, Godefroy de Frise, Gallerand and many others, he ordered them
to pursue the Duke d’Aigremont and his brothers without relaxation, and
if possible take them alive that he might visit upon them the direst
vengeance.
These brave knights immediately started in pursuit of the enemy,
but the falling of night prevented their carrying out the orders of
Charlemagne.
After the terrible exertions of the day both armies needed rest. The
Duke d’Aigremont was much chagrined at his defeat. His brother Gerard,
in particular, who had been annoyed at the death of Lothaire, could
not conceal his discontent; he could not resist making the complaint
that he had made his promise to assist D’Aigremont in all things, but
nevertheless, he desired to resume the attack upon the king the next
day with all the force they could command and avenge their defeat and
Nanteuil dissuaded them.
“I think,” said he, “that we are not defending a just cause, and that
it would be better to send a deputation of our knights to Charlemagne
and ask for peace. Are we not his subjects? Besides to prevail, we must
attack him unaware. And suppose we do succeed in destroying his army,
it will only follow that we shall again be opposed by a force more
considerable than any we can assemble? No! I think the wisest course
for us to pursue is to submit.”
The advice of Nanteuil prevailed. It was agreed that the following
morning ambassadors were to be sent to Charlemagne to make terms of
peace.
Accordingly, at sunrise the next day, thirty knights, chosen from the
most experienced and from those of the highest rank, after having
received the instructions of D’Aigremont, mounted their horses and
proceeded to the camp of Charlemagne.
The king being informed of their approach assembled his army in battle
array and received them at the door of his tent. The messengers of
D’Aigremont came forward, bearing an olive branch as a sign of peace,
and kneeling before him bowed down to the earth.
“Rise!” commanded Charlemagne.
“Sire,” said Henri de Brienne, “we have come in the name of the Duke de
Beuves d’Aigremont to implore your clemency. We recognize the enormity
of our crime, and here before your majesty we would place ourselves
into your hands. We supplicate you, above all, to spare the poor people
we compelled to obey us and who were forced into complicity in our
crime. If your majesty will but say the word, the Duke d’Aigremont and
his brothers will come and submit themselves to any punishment you may
see fit to impose upon them.”
The king, trembling at the thought of being brought face to face once
more with the murderer of his son, ordered the knights to return
to their master and to have him present himself at once to receive
punishment for his crimes, accompanied by his three brothers; that
his army must surrender at discretion; that the ambassador might
have no illusions as to his formal intention not to submit to any
supplications, and that the truth of these words might be forced upon
them, he ordered, in their presence, the erection of three gibbets upon
which the three brothers were to swing.
These grim preparations completed, Charlemagne sent them back, giving
them until noon to execute his commands, under penalty of immediately
commencing hostilities.
The thirty knights returned to their camp and faithfully reported
to the Duke d’Aigremont the words of Charlemagne. There was nothing
left to do but bravely accept their fate. The order was immediately
given for the disarmament of the troops. The Duke d’Aigremont had a
difficult task in overcoming the repugnance of Gerard de Bouillon and
De Nanteuil to submitting, but they finally consented to accompany him.
It was a sad and curious spectacle to see the Duke d’Aigremont and his
two brothers on that bright and beautiful May morning, stripped to
their shirts, with heads bare, with a cord attached to their necks,
march at the head of several hundred knights, stripped to their shirts
likewise, and followed by their soldiers with heads bare, all marching
on foot along the road which separated their camp from the camp of
Charlemagne. Upon their arrival at the tent of the emperor the three
brothers with their suite and all their army kneeled to the earth, amid
a great hush from the assembled hosts.
With constrained voice the emperor bid the three brothers arise, and
sternly but silently pointed to them the way to the scaffold.
The three brothers without a single supplication obeyed in silence.
On arriving at the foot of the gibbet, the emperor, who had followed,
could no longer conceal his emotion, and for the moment the heart of
the soldier overcame the sorrows of the father. He paused and with
bitter tears filling his eyes:
“Barbarians!” cried he, “why should you have punished me so cruelly by
destroying my beloved son, a young prince who complied loyally with the
orders of his sovereign?”
D’Aigremont was deeply affected by the grief of the emperor. “Sire!”
said he, “I beg to die without delay; I realize the enormity of my
crime and that death alone can remove my disgrace.”
The executioners then approached to perform their sinister offices. The
assembled armies awaited, breathless and concerned, the end of this
powerful drama.
The emperor seemed to be entirely absorbed in his grief, but suddenly
recovering command of himself and with a noble generosity, so
characteristic of him, he forgot the death of his son, and, sacrificing
his grief and revenge, these words fell from his lips:
“I pardon you,” said he to the condemned. “Can you appreciate the
sentiments that dictate my conduct to you? Resume your titles and
your dignities, everything shall be forgotten and the past shall be
effaced—this time do not forget your oaths of fidelity, or else you
cannot hope for my forgiveness.”
A thrill of admiration ran through all the spectators. Mute with
surprise at first, there finally arose an explosion of joy from the
hearts of those who, an instant previous, had been torn with fear and
sorrow. Loud acclaims arose on every hand and the soldiers of the two
armies embraced each other in a transport of joy.
D’Aigremont and his brothers were stricken dumb with surprise. They
could hardly comprehend the greatness of soul and generosity of the
emperor and stood silent. They then solemnly promised never to do
anything again contrary to the wishes of their master, and renewed
their oaths of fidelity.
The Duke de Naimes, the most devoted friend of the emperor, could not
contain his satisfaction.
“Sire,” exclaimed he, “you are the greatest king the world has ever
known. This act of generosity, which does you honor, will be an
imperishable monument to you. You have commended your friends and your
people to God and you will never have cause to regret your action.”
After some moments, when the enthusiasm had become calmed, Charlemagne
caused all the arms and equipments of the three brothers, their knights
and soldiers, to be returned to them, and when they had received them
they cried to be led against the foes of the emperor and promised
to use all efforts to aid him. The princes and their men that night
encamped with the royal army.