Part 25

At midnight Malagis had recourse to his knowledge of the black art. He made a deep magic sleep fall upon the camp, and all within its bounds, save and except himself. Then, stepping softly, he made his way to the emperor’s bedside, and dropped a few drops of some medicament into Karl’s mouth, which insured his sleep lasting for twelve good hours. After which he lifted him up, and carried him pickaback to the castle. The great gate was flung open at the sound of his well-known voice, and great was the astonishment of Reinold when he saw what burden he carried on his shoulders.

“Here is the pledge of peace,” said Malagis. “It has cost me much hard work to bring it here. See that my labour bears fruit.”

The emperor was carried to the best guest-room the castle contained, and the Lady Clarissa did all that lay in her power for the comfort of the great man.

Karl did not awake till noon. At first he thought he must be dreaming when he saw Reinold, Malagis, and strange servants about him. The truth dawned upon him gradually, and a bitter truth it was. Hunger forced him to accept the food Clarissa brought, though he would much rather not have eaten it. Reinold tried by every means in his power to induce the emperor to give up his plans of vengeance, and make peace with him. But his efforts were vain. Then it occurred to him that a proud, haughty nature, that could not be bent by harshness, was often softened by kindness. He set Kaiser Karl at liberty, and the emperor went away from Montalban without a word or sign that betokened reconciliation.

When Reinold re-entered the castle, he found his cousin Malagis burning boxes, bags, and all kinds of written papers. Much surprised, he asked what he was doing, and Malagis replied:

“I am burning all that the noble art of necromancy has taught me. I shall need these things no more, for my services are useless to such a madman as you. I am now going away into the wilderness to join the holy penitents, there I shall repent with them in sackcloth and ashes.”

He was as good as his word, for he took his departure soon afterwards, never to return.

When the emperor went back to his camp, he related all his adventures. The paladins one and all entreated him to make peace with the heroic brothers, but he refused, saying that his murdered son’s blood still cried aloud for vengeance. So the castle still remained beleaguered, and fortune seemed to have deserted the garrison with the departure of the little necromancer. The store of provisions grew less every day. Hunger stared the brave men in the face. Reinold, after much consideration, thought of a way of escape, and made all needful preparations. One evening, when darkness had begun to set in, he took leave of his weeping wife, and, accompanied by his brothers and a small band of determined men, made his way cautiously and silently through the enemy’s lines, and set out for a strong castle in the forest of Ardennes.

Next morning the emperor was told what had happened, and he did what Reinold had expected. He at once ordered the siege of Montalban to be raised, and started in pursuit of the fugitives. He soon came up with them, but they defended themselves so well, and took such wise measures to ensure their safety, that they succeeded in reaching the stronghold for which they were bound.

DEATH OF BAYARD AND REINOLD.

The heroes fought as bravely as ever in defence of their new place of refuge, emboldened by the knowledge that their dear ones at Montalban were now free; but however courageous a man may be, hunger and disease are foes under whose attacks it is impossible to hold out for ever.

In the time of their sorest distress, Aya went to the imperial camp, and entreated her brother to have mercy on her children. The emperor refused to listen to her, and harshly bade her go out of his presence. But she returned again and again to the charge, and at last Karl said:

“Very well, listen to my offer, and let Reinold accept it if he will. The horse Bayard, that Malagis brought up out of hell, has done me more harm than any other creature, excepting Reinold himself. Now I will pardon your four sons, and restore their fiefs, if Reinold will give the brute to me, to be killed as I think best. I give you my word as an emperor that I will accept Bayard’s life in expiation of my son’s death.”

When Aya returned to the castle, and showed the parchment on which she had had the terms of the proposed treaty written out in full, Reinold refused to give up his dearest and most faithful friend.

“Think of your wife, your children, and your brothers—the gallows at Monfaucon are prepared—an inscription will be placed there that will be read by future generations: ‘He gave them all up to die a shameful death for the sake of a dumb animal.’”

“Mother,” cried the hero, and rushing up to Bayard, he fed his faithful friend with a last piece of bread, and, bursting into tears, threw his arms round its slender neck. The horse whinnied softly, and laid its head trustingly on his shoulder.

“I cannot do it, mother, I cannot do it,” cried Reinold. “Bayard and I must live and die together.”

“Very well, my son,” she said; “but remember that when all my children and grandchildren are hanging on the gallows, your mothers heart will break.”

“Mother,” he answered, in a strange, hollow voice, “have your will. You have conquered, but I shall not survive it.”

He then signed the treaty, and Aya returned with it to the imperial camp.

A crowd was assembled on the bridge in Paris, for the news had gone abroad that the famous Bayard was to be drowned. Kaiser Karl was there also with his paladins.

The noble horse was led to the middle of the bridge, with iron weights fastened to its feet, and at a signal was suddenly pushed over the edge, and fell with a splash into the Seine. In spite of the weights upon its legs, it rose to the surface, once, twice, thrice.

“That horse is the devil incarnate,” cried the emperor furiously. “Ha, Count Reinold, beware, its eyes are fixed on you; if you are keeping it alive by any enchantment, it will be the worse for you. I will tear up the treaty.”

With a low cry of terror Aya flung her arms round her son, drawing down his head, so that he did not see how Bayard rose a fourth time, and then, not seeing its master’s face, sank, to rise no more.

The hero felt that all his happiness was gone with Bayard. He thrust his mother aside, flung at the emperor’s feet the letters patent entitling him to his fiefs, and breaking his sword Flammberg, threw it into the Seine, muttering,—

“Lie there with my Bayard, and may God forget to be gracious to me, if I ever mount a horse or draw a sword again.”

Then he turned, and fled into the depths of the wild forest, until at last he sank exhausted on the ground. There he remained for two days and a night, overwhelmed and mad with misery.

After that he went home to Montalban. Meeting a pilgrim on the way, he gave him his golden spurs and all his ready money for his grey robes and felt hat.

Lady Clarissa wept when she heard the end of the noble horse, for she had loved Bayard; but she wept still more bitterly, when Reinold took leave of her for ever.

“Who will teach our sons,” she cried, “to be true knights and noble men, if you go and leave them thus?”

“Our cousin Count Roland will do so,” he answered, “and you will do your part, dear wife.” He kissed the tears from her eyes, and continued: “Accept no fief from Kaiser Karl. Go with our children to our own lands on the other side of the mountains. The tyrant has no power there, for the lands are your own. As for me, I am about to start on a pilgrimage to the grave of our Lord, to see whether I may find forgiveness. You will never see me again.”

Saying this, he tore himself away, and set out at once upon his long and toilsome journey.

Reinold went to the Holy Land, where he found a fierce war raging between the Christians and Infidels. He was true to his vow. He neither mounted a horse, nor wielded a sword; but still he fought like a hero with an enormous club, and helped in the taking of Jerusalem. After he had prayed at the Holy Sepulchre, he returned to his native land; but not to his wife and children, nor yet to his brothers, for he had died to all earthly ties and joys. He went to Cologne, where the cathedral was being built. There he lived a hard, ascetic life, and worked as a labourer at the building. He did not even stop working during the hour of rest in the middle of the day, although his wages were only a penny a day. This conduct aroused the anger of the stone-masons, so they rose in a body, killed him, and threw his body into the Rhine. But the river would not keep it, the corpse floated on the surface of the water, and was drawn to land by some pious souls. And now several miracles were wrought upon those who touched his body, which showed that he had been a holy man. The emperor, hearing of the wonders that had taken place, had the murderers tried and executed, and sent orders that the body of the saint should be brought to Aix-la-Chapelle (Aachen), or to Paris. No sooner was the body laid upon the cart which was to convey it, than the vehicle moved of its own accord, and rolled on and on, no matter how bad the roads, till it arrived at Dortmund in Westphalia, where it stopped, that being the spot the saint had evidently chosen as his last resting-place. The Reinaldi-Church at Dortmund was built in his honour.

The Legend gives the exact date of the miracle, 7th of January, 811.

II. ROLAND.

SIEGE OF VIANE (VIENNE).

Kaiser Karl had not been married very long. He held a great assembly of the notables. Count Gerhart appeared amongst the rest, for he expected that this would be the time chosen by the emperor to invest him with the promised fief of Viane (Vienne in France), and perhaps also with that of Burgundy. When he received the letters patent relating to the first of these, he stooped, and, in fulfilment of ancient custom, would have kissed the emperor’s foot; but he staggered, for the empress had stuck out her foot, which he involuntarily touched with his lips in falling.

“He must have drunk too much Burgundy before he would have kissed the foot of the Lady, whose rosy mouth he formerly disdained. Wine teaches humility,” murmured the courtiers.

Gerhart sprang to his feet, his cheeks flushing with anger. He waited in expectation of the second letter; but the emperor told him that he could not have the fief of Burgundy, for the empress, who was also the widow of the last duke, was strongly against it. The count took his leave with a low bow, and set out for Vienne, his heart boiling with rage. Arrived there, he called out his troops, and sent to ask his brother, the mighty lord of Apulia, for help against his sovereign. He knew that the emperor’s heart would henceforth be turned against him, for was not the empress that same widowed duchess of Burgundy whose proffered love he had rejected?

The brothers took the field at the head of a great army. With them came their younger brother Rainier, his son Olivier, a bold warrior, and his daughter Auda, who was marvellously beautiful, and brave as one of the Northern valkyrs.

Karl besieged the stronghold on the river Rhone where they had taken up their abode. The place seemed impregnable, for it was defended by brave men, rocks, and river. Sometimes the besiegers tried to take the citadel by storm, and sometimes part of the garrison would make an attack on the enemy beneath the walls. On such occasions, Auda would now and then accompany her friends dressed in full armour, and would fight with the best. Once when she had done so, she found that her opponent was none other than strong Roland. He disarmed her without even drawing his sword, and took her prisoner. Her brother Olivier, seeing what had happened, at once came to the rescue. While the heroes were engaged in single combat, Auda made good her escape, and took refuge in the castle, where she was soon afterwards joined by the rest of the party. The siege continued. The Lady Auda often stood on the battlements, and helped to fling stones on the heads of those warriors who came within reach of their missiles. One day Roland came with the rest, and, seeing the maiden, asked her name and parentage. When she had told him, and he had answered by informing her that he was Count Roland, a nephew of the emperor, he went on to say that he loved her, and would never cease to woo her, even though it were at the cost of his life. At this moment Olivier appeared, and flung a spear at him, upon which Roland challenged him to single combat on an island in the Rhone.

The heroes and their horses were ferried over the river to the island, and there they fought. Each of the combatants displayed the most heroic valour. At length, when evening was drawing on, a fleecy cloud hovered over them, and, coming between them, forced them apart. An angel wrapped in rosy light came out of the cloud, and said:

“Wherefore do you fight, Christian against Christian? Why would you shed a brother’s blood? I call upon you to be reconciled in the name of the Saviour who died upon the cross. Be of one heart and of one mind, and turn your arms against the adversaries of the true faith.”

The angel then waved a palm branch as a sign of farewell, and vanished.

The two men exchanged a hearty shake of the hand, and sat down to talk over matters of much moment to both of them. Before they separated, Olivier had promised to use his influence with his sister in Roland’s favour, and the latter had given his word to fight no more against Vienne, and its defenders.

Now the emperor was very fond of hunting, and used to go on many an expedition into the neighbouring country in search of game. On one such occasion he and his companions were attacked and hard pressed by a party of Viennese under the leadership of Olivier. At one moment it seemed as if Karl must lose his life in the struggle. Olivier, seeing this, protected him with his shield. When the combat was over, the emperor and Olivier had some talk together, and the former was so touched and pleased with the noble and generous disposition of the young man, that he not only promised to make peace, but to appoint Olivier one of his paladins, to forgive Gerhart, and to restore the fiefs he held under him.

There was great joy in Vienne and all the neighbouring country when the news of the peace was spread abroad. Smiling faces were everywhere to be seen, and happiest of all was perhaps Kaiser Karl himself. A few days later a time was fixed for the public betrothal of Roland and Auda. Great preparations were made, and all was done to make the day a joyful one.

While the heroes were sitting at the feast in the royal tent, messengers appeared from the banks of the Garonne, who brought the sad news that the Moorish king Eigoland had come from Africa with a large army of blacks, had fallen upon Gascony, and laid waste the country with fire and sword.

“That is good news,” said brave Roland, “for an angel appeared to my comrade Olivier and me, and told us to fight against the infidel.”

“It is bad news,” answered the emperor, “for the Moor is a great warrior, and has an immense number of black devils at his back. Listen, noble knights, and I will tell you what happened years ago. After the death of my father Pipin, my step-brothers, the sons of cunning Bertha, drove me out of my inheritance. I found refuge with the heathen king Marsilio at Saragossa. With the help of brave Diebolt, I regained my rights, was crowned king of the Franks at Aix (Aachen), and emperor in Rome. One night St. James, the apostle, appeared to me, and commanded me to free his grave, to which there was a yearly pilgrimage, from the yoke of the infidel. I obeyed him, and reduced the whole country as far as Galicia, where the apostle lies buried. There I learnt that Eigoland had come over from Africa, and had already reached Pampeluna. I marched back at once, and met the Moorish forces near the river Ceres. There was a terrible battle. The Africans fought like very devils. They broke through our ranks, and defeat seemed certain. Then the brave Milo, my brother-in-law, and your father, nephew Roland, threw himself upon the demons at the head of his men. They fought like heroes, and defeated the enemy. But before the victory was quite decided, the noble Milo fell, wounded to death. The loss on both sides was so great that either party retreated on the morrow. Eigoland returned to his African deserts; but he seems to have come back at the head of a larger army than before, and to have invaded our own land. We must now fight for home and faith, for on this crisis will depend whether Christ or Machmet shall rule the Franks.”

“I think this much is certain,” said Roland: “we shall conquer, whether we live or die. Was not my father victorious, though he fell at Pampeluna? The Lord would not deny him the martyr’s crown, when he passed away on that field of blood. Here, or there, ye Frankish men, what does it matter which? The crown is ours.”

As he spoke, his eyes shone with enthusiasm.

“And what is to become of me,” whispered Auda, “if you do not return?”

“You are the angel that shall give me the palm, either here or there,” he answered; and before the assembled knights and ladies he gave her the kiss of affiance.

GANELON.

Next day they marched to meet the enemy, whom they saw when they had at length reached the beautiful land that is watered by the Dordone (Dordogne). The morning after their arrival, a terrible battle took place between them and the Moors. Roland, Olivier, Ogier, Archbishop Turpin, and the other paladins fought like heroes, and led their men again and again against the foe. At night-fall, and not till then, did the Moors acknowledge themselves beaten. They fled to Pampeluna, where they found more troops that had just arrived from Africa. Eigoland and his men were impatient to avenge the defeat they had sustained, and they were sure that they could do so, for they trusted in their numbers, their skill, and their prophet.

Karl did not at once follow the fugitives. He waited for reinforcements from France, and from Marsilio, who, although a heathen, had formerly aided him. He sent messengers to him; but soon afterwards learnt that the faithless king had murdered them, and had joined the Moors. Then the emperor called his heroes around him, and, telling them of the evil tidings he had had, asked them whether they advised him to risk a battle, when the enemy’s numbers were so overwhelming.

“Let us go forward,” cried brave Roland; “before us lie two objects, victory or paradise; who is it that will draw back?”

The rest agreed with him, and the horns sounded to battle; and a great battle took place, in which many men were slain on either side, and each party fought with a desperate valour. At last Eigoland fell under the sword of Roland, and then the Moors took flight.

The emperor reduced the country to obedience to his rule. Saragossa alone held out, for there Marsilio had taken up his station and determined to defend the town alone until the arrival of the troops his liege lord Baligant, caliph of Babylon, had promised to send to his aid. Karl, remembering his former kindness, had determined to treat Marsilio with the greatest forbearance. He therefore sent Ganelon, one of his paladins, to offer the king terms, and they were these: Marsilio’s life should be spared if he would be baptized, and become a vassal of the empire. Ganelon would have liked to decline the honour of carrying this message; but he knew the emperor too well to dare remonstrance.

The king received the ambassador with all kindness, listened to his message quietly, and begged for a short time to think the matter over, and consult his friends. Meanwhile he led Ganelon over the palace, and showed him all his treasures. When he saw that the sight of these things had had the desired effect on the ambassador, he offered him three baggage-horse loads of gold, three of silver, and three of costly stuffs, if he would turn the emperor’s vengeance away from him, and save him from becoming a Frankish vassal. Ganelon promised to do all that the heathen wished; nay, for double the reward, he even promised to detain a division of the Frankish army when the rest had gone away, on the pretext of guarding the country, and then to deliver them into Marsilio’s hands. The compact was soon concluded, and each of the contracting parties swore to keep his share of the bargain.

Marsilio, who thought little of bloodshed, did not hesitate to hand over some of the nobles of his host as hostages for his good faith, which therefore was not doubted. Ganelon spoke strongly of Marsilio’s repentance for the past, and promises for the future; and then, when he had succeeded in turning matters as he wished, and the emperor was about to return to France with his whole army in the belief that he now possessed a faithful vassal in Marsilio, went on to persuade him to leave Roland and the other paladins behind at the head of a small force to watch the borders. His eloquence carried all before it, and what he advised was done. He alone of all the paladins returned to France with the emperor, while Roland and the other ten remained with six thousand chosen warriors to guard the land from foreign invasion.

AT RONCEVAL (VALE OF THORNS).

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.