LA CHANSON D'ASPREMONT

MODERN FRENCH BY LOUIS BRANDIN, 1925

FROM A POEM OF THE 13th CENTURY

ILLUSTRATIONS BY M.A. SERVANT

ENGLISH TRANSLATION BY NOL DREK

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PART ONE: THE BATTLE AGAINST AUMONT

CHAPTER 1 - CHARLEMAGNE IN HIS PALACE IN AIX LA CHAPELLE

LORDS, would you like to hear how in Aspremont Charlemagne 
defeated Aumont and Agolant who had come to give battle to the 
army of the Christians, and how he dubbed Roland a knight and 
girded him on his left side with Durendal? Listen to me: I begin 
my song.

	It is Pentecost. Charlemagne is in his palace at Aachen. 
From all parts his men came to celebrate the anniversary of his 
coronation. They crowd around him on the marble steps.

	To gentlemen of high nobility Charles distributes fabrics 
and coats of Alexandrian silk, good goblets, cups of fine gold, fine 
goshawks, expensive hawks; to the poor knights he gives palfreys,
horses, and deniers.

	"Lords," said Duke Naimon, "the crown must be placed on 
the head of him who in power comes immediately after God. Now 
listen carefully to these words: to all those of Germany, Apulia, 
Romagna, Lombardy, France, Brittany, and Aquitaine, Charlemagne 
forbids being bold enough to gird a sword at the side of a squire. 
Let all those who wish to receive the strike on the neck come to his 
court; Charles wishes to reserve the right to arm them as knights."

	The king is filled with rejoicing and no one leaves him 
without beaming with joy. Two kings and Naimon kneel before 
him. "Sire," they declare, "those knights you see leaning against 
the columns of the palace or lying on those silken cloths, there
is no land under heaven they are not ready to conquer for you. If 
ever again any part of your empire is threatened, you can count 
on their help; at your first call they will march against your 
enemies.

	"Naimon," said the Emperor, "truly, if the Saracens provoke 
us again, it is I who will fight them. I will defeat them myself, then
I will distribute their spoils among all my lords, for I want all my 
lords to owe all of their property to me alone."

CHAPTER 2 - THE MESSAGE OF BALAN

The meal is ready, the tablecloths are laid, the wine is poured. 
Seven hundred gentlemen, sons of counts and renowned princes, 
all dressed in ermine and petit-gris, are preparing to sit down to 
table, but the king has not yet taken his seat, he has not yet left 
the marble steps.

	Suddenly a knight appears. His blond hair is braided in 
plaits which fall over his shoulders and down to his hips. His 
large eyes shine brightly. His face breathes joy and gaiety. If the 
ardent sun had not tanned him, his complexion would be as white
and as delicate as that of a virgin. He has sharply cut features, 
large arms, and a strong chest. He stands tall. He has a slender leg
and a well-turned foot. When he enters the palace, his only 
clothing is his bliaud which falls in two sections on his sides. He 
withdraws his sword with a chiseled gold hilt and passes it to a 
Turcopole who is behind him.

	Right glove in hand, he approaches the emperor and says 
to him in a loud and firm voice, so as to make himself heard, "May
Mahomet, our God, who watches over us, protect Agolant and 
Aumont, Trïamodés and Gorhant, and all their armies, and strike 
down proud Charles and all his advisers! Yes, Charles, your 
unworthy conduct towards my lord has filled him with just wrath.
For more than a month Agolant has been riding through your 
lands and ravaging your kingdoms. He wants to strip you of it to 
punish you for your bad deeds. And I who have been sent to you 
as a messenger, you see this ring that I have on my finger? To be 
able to keep it, I have sworn out of love to the one who gave it to 
me, and who is far from being ugly, to kill a Frank with my own 
sword."

	"Friend," said Charles smiling, "may God have mercy on 
us!"

	"Sir Emperor, listen to me. There are three vast lands in 
the world, the names of which I can tell you. One is called Asia, 
the second Europe, and the third Africa. There are no others. 
These three lands are separated by the sea. It is of the best of the 
three that my sire is master. Last year the pagans consulted fate 
and it declared that the first two should be united with Africa. 
Well then, my lord comes to seize your Europe. All that is left for 
you, Emperor, is to make a deal with Agolant. As for me, my name 
is Balan. I serve as ambassador to the king. I have not been 
accustomed to speaking lies or vain words, if you demand proof 
of what I put forward here, I am ready to give it to one of your 
vassals. If you do not listen to my advice, you will act like a fool. 
You have no army that can tame ours, we will seek you until we 
find you, nothing will save you, neither the woods, nor the earth, 
nor the sea, unless you can fly like a bird. And now, if you dare, 
designate the best of your men to take up my challenge and take 
this message. If you find a word that goes beyond what I told you,
reserve for me the ignoble fate of the thief caught in the act." 

	At these words, he throws the letter on the Emperor's 
mantle. The latter gives it to abbot Fromer. The abbot breaks off 
the wax, he sighs, cries with both eyes, spreads his fingers and 
drops the parchment.

	Archbishop Turpin picks it up. "Sir Emperor, you are 
wrong to give your messages to such people as can read them. 
Formerly, in his youth, Fromer found consolation only in wine. He 
is good to promise, but not to give. Do you know why he cries 
now? It is because he sees himself obliged to empty his treasury for 
others. Go, sir abbot, go and sing your matins, go and recite the 
life of Saint Omer. As for me, I am going to read Agolant's letter." 
Abbot Fromer responds violently, but Charlemagne cries out, 
"Let the messenger speak!"

	Standing, the Archbishop then speaks in a loud and firm 
voice. "Here is Agolant's message: There are three lands in the 
world. I am master of the largest. After crossing the African Sea, I 
have arrived in Calabria. I left neither wife nor child there. I 
swear by Mahomet and by Tervagant that, if you do not renounce 
your faith in God, if you do not bow your head under our law, if 
you do not become a follower of our religion, then your life will 
not be worth one bezant."

	The French say: "Truly, Agolant speaks well and knows 
how to use threats very well."

	Turpin resumes, "Here is what Agolant says again: I, 
Agolant, have a great red heart against you, Charlemagne. I will 
destroy Christianity, with my two hands I will kill you and 
Aumont, my son, will be crowned in Rome. I come with all my 
army which numbers seven hundred thousand men. Before you 
can reach the plains of Romagna, Christendom will be brought to 
a pitiful state. If, however, I decide not to put you to the edge of 
my burnished sword, you will never campaign again. At the very 
most I will give you a land to govern of which you will be 
seneschal. I have spoken."

	And Balan asks the great emperor, "What shall I reply to 
Agolant, my lord? You certainly do not dream of fighting him any 
more than the mallard would think of fighting the goshawk. 
There are a hundred thousand men who form our vanguard and 
it is I who must strike the first blow, it is a right that I hold from 
my ancestors. I have a horse white as an apple blossom, on my 
blue gonfanon are embroidered three lions with grimacing 
mouths. When you see your people fighting against ours, you will
not be wise unless you are seized with fear. If you do not give up 
this struggle, my two eyes will search in vain for a being subject 
to a worse condition than yours."

	At these words, the king wants to strike him. But Duke 
Naimon hastened up. "Thank you, handsome sire, in the name of 
God the Creator! Such an act, we would blame it on you."

	Then Charlemagne exclaims, "He is lying, the pagan 
traitor! Tell your lord that, in a few days from now, I will carry my
Oriflamme to Aspremont."

	The night begins to fall. Charlemagne walks over to the 
table. The messenger is about to leave. He wants to ask for 
Charlemagne's leave but Duke Naimon takes Balan by the arm. 
"Do not be in a hurry, messenger. Of those who come to speak to 
the Emperor, none can return on the first day. Come to our feast. I
will show you three hundred horses. You will take the two best, 
they will replace yours who are tired from running." 

	Balan hears him and looks at him from top to bottom. 
"Foolish Christian, you want to tempt me. I am not here for 
presents, but to carry out the mission entrusted to me by my 
lord. If I could meet you in Aspremont, I would make you pay 
dearly for your words."

	"Sire," said Naimon, "for the moment let us leave this 
subject."

	To Balan they bring a mantle of petit-gris, lined with silk 
from overseas. The Saracen wraps himself in it, gets up and goes 
to the table. Naimon accompanies him to his place, opposite 
Charlemagne. The Duke of Bavaria passes the golden ewer to 
Balan and he pours it himself. Balan, with a worried brow, 
lowered head, sees the hall full of lords, dressed in petit-gris, vair,
and ermine, and wearing bliauds of silk. He sees the cups of fine 
gold and silver, coming from the treasury of Constantine that 
Charlemagne conquered across the Rhine when he defeated the 
Saxon Witikind, sparkle in the light of the twisted wax candles. 
Balan eats and notices how much Charlemagne dominates the 
whole court. He cannot take his gaze away from the emperor's 
beard, which falls to his chest, and he says to himself, "If 
Charlemagne had only those who are here drinking his perfumed 
wines to serve him, that would be enough to tell me that Agolant 
has undertaken a crazy thing. Charles believes only in God, in him
he places all his confidence and his hope."

	Charlemagne calls him, "Messenger, brother, tell me what 
King Agolant has in mind. Does he really want to destroy holy 
Christianity?"

	"Yes, Sire, he hates it. This summer he will conquer Apulia 
and Sicily, and this winter his son will be crowned in Rome. He 
will search for you until he finds you."

	"Ah, God!" said Charlemagne, "Allow me to shatter these 
plans. Brother, messenger, do not forget to tell your master that I 
warn him not to come up against my forces in Apulia, if he ever 
enters there."

	"Agolant," replies Balan, "wants to possess everything that 
Alexander conquered in his age, he claims it as sovereign. His 
armies are mighty. There is no man who equals him in wisdom, 
he wears a flowery beard on his chin, he hates you with an 
implacable hatred. You do not dare fight him. Let us settle the 
quarrel in single combat. If I defeat your champion, I will lead 
you to Aspremont. You will join your hands before Agolant, you 
will pay homage to him, and you will receive the gift of land."

	"Brother," said Charles, "do you know what we will do? 
You are going to leave, and we will stay here. This country is his 
when we flee!"

	The Emperor has finished eating; the golden ewers are 
passed again and the tablecloths are removed. Duke Naimon 
lodges the messenger Balan. There is no fruit or fine morsel that 
he does not procure for him, and all night long they discuss 
Mahomet and Our Lord.

	The next morning, Balan said to Naimon, "I am leaving, 
because I have been here too long. I will carry my message and I 
will not delay doing what I have in mind."

	Dawn appears, day begins to shine; Balan rides on the 
handsomest of the two coursers that Duke Naimon has gifted 
him. He leaves the town by the main road. Several times he turns 
around. While riding, he thinks of Charles and his court. He 
already regrets leaving the French where he found so much 
kindness. Ah, if he were not afraid of being reviled by his family, 
how he would hasten to ask for baptism!

CHAPTER 3 - BALAN ACCUSED BY THE PAGANS

Balan passes Apulia and Calabria and after three days of forced 
riding here he is in Aspremont. He gets off his horse while Hector,
King Lampal's son, holds his stirrup. Through the crowd of 
Saracens, he reaches Agolant whom he finds under a pine with 
green needles.

	"Have you seen Charles?" said the Saracen King. "And have
you spoken to him?"

	"Yes, Sire, I did not hide anything from him. I saw him at 
his annual coronation feast at Aix-la-Chapelle. By Mahomet, 
Charles is brave, strong, and valiant, and his people prevail over 
others as gold prevails over copper and other metals! He tells you
that in a few days he will come with his vassals to establish 
themselves here. You can be sure, O king, that then there will be 
terrible battles."

	Trïamodés, the king of Valorie, furious, exclaims, "Cursed 
be the messenger who so boasts of the enemy! If the proud 
Charlemagne has given you his gold and his silver, you want too 
much to show him your gratitude."

	"Cursed be whoever dares to speak thus!" retorts Balan 
sharply. "Yes, I saw Charles in his court at Aix. I threatened him 
proudly, but I could not thereby fill him with fear. And Duke 
Naimon gave me two horses to choose from among three hundred, the 
slowest of which would still be considered very fast. I would be a 
felon if I lied. By Mahomet, never have I seen people like 
Charlemagne's! It seems that if one could socialize with the French 
more often, life would gain in happiness and duration. And this is 
what, for the sake of all of us, I have come without stopping to 
tell you. However, no one here seems to want to take any account 
of my words. If we fight, I will be the first to strike; it is a 
right that I hold from my parents. Fie on the coward who dares not 
face his peer! Besides, the future will show you whether I am 
telling the truth or a lie."

	King Moïsan, the one who bears the standard of Agolant, 
rises and says, "Balan, tell us the truth and hide nothing from us. 
Will Charlemagne deny his faith? Will he flee or will he wait for 
us?"

	Balan starts to laugh. "Fie on those who resort to lies! I 
saw the messengers he was preparing to send. Certainly, 
Charlemagne will come, be convinced of that. He has few people, 
but they are full of valor. And now I am going to eat, for it has 
been three days since I have taken any food."

	Balan walks away. Then the pagan kings, king Moïsan, 
king Danebus, king Hector, king Lampal the hoary, king 
Trïamodés, and king Gorhant approach Agolant and they say 
loud enough to be heard by him, "So Balan returned. In truth he 
was bought by the French. All his words prove it. For our safety, 
he must be drowned or hanged."

	However, Balan has arrived at his house, where his people 
give him an eager welcome. After having drunk and eaten well, 
he prepares to set off again. He puts on silk stockings which 
shape his legs, a silk jacket laminated with fine gold, a silk coat 
edged with ermine and he jumps lightly on his shorn palfrey. He 
returns to the courtyard where his enemies await, slandering 
him. King Agolant is so irritated that he has almost lost his 
senses. Balan is tall and strong, famous among all his peers for 
his goodness. He appears among them like a falcon out among 
the molting chicks. When he enters the great hall, all are silent 
and remain mute. There is not one who does not wish him ill.

	King Agolant speaks first. "Sir Balan, I cannot hide it. I fed 
and raised you from your childhood and I girded you with the 
sword on your left side. Your valor won you the royal crown. For 
me you have taken pains and faced dangers. At the risk of your 
life you went to Charlemagne in France. Now, you know that the 
emperor holds a part of my heritage. That does not prevent you 
from having told our great enemy everything about me and my 
army in return for the presents that Naimon gave you. Now give 
an account of your actions to your peers who will judge you. It is 
life or death that is at stake for you at the moment."

	Balan rises sharply and speaks in a loud and firm voice. 
"Yes, rich King Agolant, you have nourished and raised me since 
my childhood and on my left side you have girded me with a 
sword. Finally, you gave me the crown of a king. But please tell 
me, since I took up arms, is there one of your men who has 
served you as much as I? Ever since I came from the Orient, I 
have constantly won four battles for you. You have the land and I 
have had great pains. Those around me who want to condemn 
me to death make their conquests by staying at your side. Well, 
let one of them rise and let him prove that the present of Duke 
Naimon is the price of treason! Against all my accusers I offer you
my glove that I never committed the slightest villainy against you
at the court of Charles, and never allowed anyone to doubt my 
faith in our gods, whatever I do in the future."

	Salatiel, a noble and rich king, full of treachery, rises. 
"Agolant, know this, that by his present conduct Balan has erased 
all the services he could have rendered to you. His words have 
filled your army with fear. They would have immediately fled 
upon hearing him, if the sea had not been there to stop them."

	Balan laments harshly, then he says, "Agolant, will you 
believe King Salatiel, he who so often challenged you, he who one 
day in the battle of the Vale of Timoriel slew ten thousand of your
men, him whom I brought back to your obedience, him from 
whom I conquered thirty cities and as many castles? Will you 
appeal to the testimony of the one who took your two nephews, 
Durand and Ospiniel, the sons of King Cadiel, and who held them 
in chains to finally kill them with his own knife?"

	Trïamodés rises and says in a loud and firm voice, "Hear 
me, Agolant. I think that the French have filled your King Balan 
with dread. Well, give me France, I ask you. You will leave it to me 
and you will return to Africa the great. However, by Mahomet and
by Tervagant, I will not be long in giving you the gift of Charles' 
head! I will annihilate Saint Peter, whom Christians consider 
their protector, before their very eyes, so that there will be no 
one left to believe in paradise, and in its place we will put the 
gods in whom we have faith. At Easter, I will have on my head the 
crown of resplendent gold, then I will do you homage, and to 
Balan I will deliver the justice that the man who believes in the 
God of Christians deserves."

	Balan hears him and in his heart he suffers from it. Full of 
anger and bitterness, he said to the king, "Listen to me, Sir 
Agolant. I repeat it to you, I who have served you for so long, I 
repeat it to you and no one will make me deny it. I saw Charles 
and his court. I heard his words and his threats. When you are 
yourself in the presence of the French knights, covered with iron, 
on their iron-clad horses, you will know what force you want to 
fight against. Wait for that moment to judge if I have committed 
an act of felony. If you then consider that I am a traitor, drive me 
out of all the expanse of your country. But beware of Trïamodés 
and his advice. I know why he hates me. Was it not I who 
subjected him to your power and threw him at your feet? He will 
never cherish me and, as the villain says in his proverb, 'The son 
of the cat must take the mouse'."

	Then Aumont, son of King Agolant, throws a look full of 
fury at Trïamodés. He exclaims, "How is it that Trïamodés, the 
king of Valorie, would like to prevail over me! As long as I am 
alive and well, you will take France, you and yours, if you are 
permitted. Seven years before this army was assembled, I was 
given the land of the French. I will be the king! And if you judge 
that we kill Balan, as one who deserves death, well, I assure you 
we will not kill him. I am going to tell the truth, whether you 
want to cry or laugh about it, whether you hate me or make fun 
of me. Because of his value, his courage, his prowess, his brilliant 
actions, Balan increased our power by seven kingdoms. There is 
no king who can forget such services! No, I will not allow Balan 
to be condemned to death!"

	Aumont has spoken and all remain motionless. Then 
Balan, boiling with anger, says, "Agolant, I am considered your 
favorite and your strength, but you have caused me great 
suffering on this day since you held me to be a traitor. There is no 
man here, young or hoary, of high rank or of low origin, however 
great his strength and his courage, that I will not hand to you 
dead or vanquished, if he dares raise his shield against me."

	Hector, son of Lampal, exclaims, "Shame on whoever 
believes, as Balan says, that Charles would ever be daring enough 
to do battle with you! Before he reaches us, we will have received 
reinforcements galore. Seeing our great number, the Christian 
army will flee in terror. And the villain said it, many years ago, 
'Anyone who flees always finds someone to chase him away'."

	Gorhant, son of Balan, stands up, irritated like a lion. All 
undressed, he has a club in his hand, he is clothed in an ermine 
cloak which hugs his body. Seneschal of the bold king Agolant, 
warrior of the queen, who only loves him, he throws himself at 
the knees of the king. "Agolant, this treason my father never 
committed. I swear it and I wait here, sword in hand, that the 
best of your men come and deny me."

	Agolant does not breathe a word. Nobody moves, and thus
ends this quarrel between Balan's enemies and those that are 
faithful to him, the bold sage who wanted so much to become a 
Christian.

CHAPTER 4 - ARCHBISHOP TURPIN AT THE HOME OF GIRARD OF FRAITE

As soon as Balan leaves the court, Charles stops the feast. He 
orders everyone to return to their country and prepare as quickly
as possible to fight against the danger that threatens Christianity. 
Young and old alike obey, not without letting out sighs from their 
hearts and tears from their eyes.

	Our emperor is full of anger and fury. He has no desire to 
laugh. "By the faith that I owe to Saint Mary," he exclaims, "to the 
poor knights I will provide arms and wealth! For them I will 
exhaust the treasures of my abbey down to the last penny, the 
last cross, the last chalice." Charlemagne then appeals to all. 
"Hurry up to accompany me on this pilgrimage. Against the 
Saracens who want to despoil me of it, help me to maintain my 
kingdom. They and their lineage will be banished forever! But, if I
keep my crown, I will give of my wealth to all. Let the Lombards 
put on their armor immediately, for they will have to accompany 
me." Our emperor is full of haste on this day. In great diligence he 
returns to Paris. He immediately seals all his letters and sends 
messengers to deliver them as soon as possible.

	And Cahoer the rich king of the English, Gondebeuf the 
noble king of Friesland, Burnols the good king of Hungary, 
Salomon the valiant king of Brittany, Droon the valiant lord of 
Mansois, Anseïs the powerful king of Germany, and David the 
bold king of Cornwall each respond thus: "Tell Charlemagne that I
will come with ten thousand knights to defend him and to save 
the Christian faith." And Desiderius, the illustrious king of the 
Lombards, tells Charles that he will follow him to Rome with his 
strong army, that he will provide him with food and will not 
allow him to spend the cost of a clove of garlic for the 
maintenance of his men.

	And from all parts armies are marching towards Paris 
with their kings, their dukes, and their princes, men of great 
courage and high valor. However, there is still a lord who stands 
aside. It is Girard of Fraite, the powerful Duke of Auvergne, 
Burgundy, Gascony, Couzan and Gévaudan. He is related to 
Archbishop Turpin. He is a baron full of pride, he holds neither 
income nor fief from Charlemagne, and to the emperor he never 
paid homage.

	Charles with a proud face therefore calls Turpin, the 
Archbishop of Reims. "Go find your relative, Girard of Fraite. Tell 
him that, for the love of God, he must come to help me in the 
fight for the salvation of Christianity! Afterwards I will repay him 
for his support, if he ever needs my arm."

	"I will go and find my relative," said Turpin. "He has four 
sons who are bold knights, but I greatly fear this man full of 
wrath and violence. On receiving your message, he may fly into a 
rage and try to slay me in response."

	"Sir Archbishop," replies King Charlemagne, "hasten with 
your spurs and tell Girard to join me as soon as possible. 
Moreover, passing through Laon, you will find in this town 
Roland, Estolt, Haton, and Bérenger whom I raised in my house.
You will have them locked up in the keep of the castle. I want 
them to stay there until the end of my battles against the 
Saracens. They are too young to accompany us in our hard 
campaigns."

	"To the blessing of God!" replied Turpin. "All your orders 
will be obeyed." Turpin leaves and first passes through Laon. 
From Charlemagne he gives the order to keep the children in the 
dungeon of the castle where they will have a cook and a wine 
steward and a lot to eat and a lot to drink. The gatekeeper makes 
a promise to Turpin and swears that he will not let them go out 
in the evening or at night, and that he will forbid them to ride.

	Then the noble archbishop goes in search of Girard. He 
will not stop looking for him until he finds him. Without stopping,
he rides as far as Vienne, where he arrives on a day of fasting. He 
waits until he is at the castle gate to pull on the reins of his horse. 
"Friend gatekeeper," he said, "let me in now!"

	"Withdraw," answers the gatekeeper. "Girard is busy 
having dinner. I dare not allow anyone to pass. Tomorrow, you 
will see him when he goes to the monastery."

	"Gatekeeper," said Turpin, "I have charge of a message 
which I cannot delay. Here, take these four golden bezants and 
lower the bridge for me, and unlock the door for me."

	And the gatekeeper replies, "In the name of Our Lord, 
most willingly." The drawbridge is lowered, the gate unlocked, 
and Archbishop Turpin ascends into the keep.

	At table he finds Girard, the noble and proud duke. Many 
knights dine with him and his four sons serve him. The 
archbishop greets Girard, "May God, who created the sea and the 
fish presented to you by your noble children, save and protect the
son of King Beuvon and may he bless him in the name of the 
great King Charlemagne! Charlemagne sends you this message: 
Agolant and Aumont have arrived on Christian land with an army
as large as we have ever seen. Beyond Aspremont they burn the 
country. They massacre men, women, and children. Come with 
Charlemagne to fight, be his companion in arms against the 
Saracens. If you refuse, you will not be a sage and wise man."

	Hearing these words, Girard changes color. Angrily he 
addresses Turpin. "Hey sir priest, may God cover you with 
shame! You are my relative; you should love me and this is the 
tale you come to tell me! It is you who dare ask me on behalf of 
the son of the dwarf that I give him homage! His father, Pépin, 
was so small that he seemed to roll when he walked. Tell your 
Charlemagne that, if he passes through my lands, he will not need
to go up to Aspremont to fight great battles. By the way, you will 
not be allowed to return and give him my message." So saying, 
Girard took a very sharp knife in his hand and suddenly threw it 
at the Archbishop, but Turpin turned away and dodged the blow.

	"Girard," said he, "it is therefore the devil who takes away 
your reason. You will see your land always go from bad to worse, 
old man, who has a passion for murder. When the pope learns of 
your action, he will excommunicate you and reject you from holy 
Christianity."

	"I do not care about your pope! To baptize, to marry, to 
confess, I will never appeal to him. I will indeed create a pope 
myself, if such is my will. To no man on earth ever, were it for the 
cost of an egg, will I pay homage. God alone is my Lord. As for 
your king, I will only grant him my love if he bows at my feet."

	"Certainly you are completely out of your senses," replies 
the Archbishop. "From whom do you want to hold your fief?"

	"From Almighty God."

	"Well, come and defend him in company with 
Charlemagne! Otherwise, you will have a suzerain before long."

	Girard almost burst out in anger. "Sir Archbishop, you are 
talking madly. Go quickly! Otherwise, by my soul, I will hang you."

	"I swear to you by God," replies the archbishop, "that as 
soon as he has destroyed the criminal race of the Saracens who 
have entered into his legitimate birthright, Charlemagne will 
deliver you to a harsh and cruel fate. He will leave you no city to 
stay in. He will lock you up in a tower between thick walls and 
you will not see the moon or the sun there. Know it well, unhappy
old man without faith and full of disloyalty. There is no creature, 
however bad it may be, whom God does not strike down when he 
wills." 

	And, with these words, Turpin returns. He is very doleful 
and looks weary, thinking of Girard's refusal. He passes through 
valleys, woods, meadows, and fields, and he pulls on his reins 
only when he returns to Paris. Once in the city he marvels at the 
number of armed men he meets there. There are met the flower 
of France and of chivalry. There it is swarming with Bretons, 
Angevins, Manceaux, French from Ile de France, Normans, 
Picards, Lorrains, Irish, and English. There are so many nations 
that a jongleur could never name them all in one of his chansons. 
So great is the press that a helmet sells well for two marks of 
silver and two spurs for a bezant of gold. And all these armies are 
riding in haste towards Laon, where Charlemagne has given 
orders to assemble.

CHAPTER 5 - YOUNG KNIGHTS IN THE PALACE OF LAON

In their palace in Laon, the young lords hear horns sounding, 
trumpets resounding, drums beating, goshawks crying, coursers 
neighing and the noise of armed men riding through the city.

	"It is the army of Charlemagne passing by. If only we could
join it!" they say, and, full of ardor, they call the gatekeeper. "Hey! 
Noble friend, you who are so generous, let us go to have fun in 
the army! To reward you for your good heart, we will make you, 
by God, a knight!"

	"Silence, vile flatterers," replies the gatekeeper. "I barely 
keep this profession. One receives too many bad blows there. Ah, 
how I would prefer to sleep quietly here! I received the order to 
keep you and for that the archbishop gives me good money. So 
you will not get out of here. Cease your vain prayers! Let the 
emperor ride and avenge himself on the accursed pagans who 
come to dispute his land."

	These words inflame the wrath of the young lords, but 
they do not say a word until the next day. When the army moved 
away from the walls of Laon, their ire redoubled.

	Young Roland then summoned them and said to them, 
"Here is Charlemagne gone against the vile Saracens. Ah, what 
brilliant boredom to remain locked up in this palace! Are we 
therefore thieves and murderers for the archbishop to keep us 
prisoners like this? Let us talk with the gatekeeper again. Let us 
offer him our rich cloaks and, if he refuses to listen to us, we will 
strike him with branches from an apple tree, so that he will never 
want to be beaten again." And all of them answer: "To that we all 
agree!" Hiding sticks under their coats, they go to find the 
gatekeeper.

	Young Roland, the valiant lord with strong arms, takes the 
floor. "Brother-in-law, by God, hello! The king is gone. We would 
love you so much if you let us join him! Once we have seen him, 
we will return to the castle."

	And the gatekeeper replies, "Do not leave this keep! The 
Archbishop wants you to stay there. You will come out when 
Charles returns. So control your folly!"

	And Roland exclaims, "Cursed be you! Take this felon, so 
that he no longer resists us."

	The young men seize the ugly bastard and beat him 
violently. Before everyone has given him two blows, the 
gatekeeper has all his bones broken. He is lying here on the 
ground lifeless and the noble youths run out.

	Roland, Estolt, Haton, and Bérenger passed through the 
gates of Laon. They hurry towards the army of Charlemagne. 
"Friends," said Roland suddenly, "are we still going to walk on 
our legs like peasants? Look at those riders over there. Let us run 
after them and, whoever they are, rid them of their mounts." And 
the three companions of Roland answer, "To the blessing of God!"

	Roland strikes a knight who falls to the ground and stays 
there motionless. "Thank you for leaving me your Aragonese 
steed!" says Roland and, jumping into the saddle, he rushes on 
another knight whom he strikes on the back of the neck and 
knocks down on his knees. He in his turn takes the destrier 
which he gives to Estolt, and, continuing thus, in a few moments 
he provides Haton and Berenger with good and swift horses.

	However, the unhorsed, people of Salomon, hastened to 
tell their misadventure to the good King of Brittany. "Sire, the 
thieves are fleeing yonder. See their green plumes and their 
bliauds of ermine fur. Ah, they gave us no time to breathe and 
they beat us like you beat donkeys on a bridge."

	Salomon exclaims, "After these bandits!" and he rushes 
with a thousand of his companions.

	We join the young people on the descent of the mountain 
of Laon. They had already caught a goshawk that had escaped 
from the hands of I forget which baron.

	The king recognizes them. "By God," he said, "but it is you,
then, Roland, Estolt, Haton, and Bérenger!" And, approaching 
Roland, he hugs him and kisses him in the face. "Hey! How? You 
are not in the keep anymore?"

	"We killed our felon gatekeeper," said Roland. He explains 
the story, and all the lords laugh out loud.

	Then Salomon summons four of his noble men. "Guard 
them for me," says he, "noble barons."

	And these answer, "To the blessing of God!"

	Charles rides in haste. His army is now complete, for in 
front of Laon, the men he already had, were united Germans and 
Teutons, Bavarians and Ardennes. It takes him little time to reach 
Rome. Seven kings, fifteen dukes, and a hundred counts 
accompany him. Never in the world was there a finer army! In 
Rome the pope sings the mass and to Saint Peter the emperor 
offers ten gold marks.

	May God protect Charlemagne and his family! But what 
fierce battles the Christians will have to engage in against the 
enormous assemblage of pagans! Below Aspremont, Turks and 
Persians, Africans, Moors, Indians, Amoravians, Lutissians, white 
and black Saracens are so numerous that no jongleur, either 
peasant or courtly, could ever tell you the full story.

	Lords, all listen to this proud song, as Charlemagne 
ascended to Aspremont and destroyed Aumont and Agolant.

CHAPTER 6 - AT THE COURT OF GIRARD OF FRAITE

However, in Vienne, in his palace which was built centuries ago, 
Girard of Fraite gathered his family, Dame Emmeline, his 
courteous wife, his four sons Ernaut, Renier, Claron, and Bovon 
and all his knights.

	"Barons," he said, "you, like me, were amazed that 
Charlemagne, who governs France, dared to ask me to fight at his 
side. Had it not been for God, who wants him to defend against 
the Saracens, I would have placed myself at your head to ask him 
the reason for such an outrage. I have raised and protected you 
all for your greater good and profit, and now I am beginning to 
grow old, for I have long passed my first hundred years. I order 
you, when my life is over, to take nothing from Charles of the 
fierce visage. His father was a miserable dwarf who robbed 
everyone, great and small. And it is I, it seems to me, that 
Charlemagne should recognize as his suzerain."

	"Sir Girard, what are you saying?" interrupts Lady 
Emmeline with a proud face. "The King of France has power over 
everyone. You know that this is how God willed and decreed it. 
What are you doing here, pitiful duke! Did you not hear that 
Agolant, the pagan, with Aumont his son, crossed the sea? They 
are leading numerous armies, they kill Christians, and they want 
to destroy our faith. Truly you have, in your life, committed so 
many crimes, burned so many churches, put so many people to 
shame and to death that you are patched all over with mortal 
sins. Why do you not go against the Saracens to obtain pardon? 
Join Charlemagne with your valiant men." So said Lady Emmeline 
with a proud face.

	Now, lords, be silent and listen to me well. One should 
love and cherish one's wife, one should follow her advice when 
she is sage and wise; but if she does not have sufficient reason, 
one must frankly disavow her.

	"Well," continues Girard, "it would be better to die and no 
longer be lord of any land than to go, under the banner of Charles,
to strike an enemy. Let him fight against the Saracens! I will seize 
France, so that Charles will never be able to return there."

	"Truly," insists Lady Emmeline, "may God curse you! Bad 
have you always been and bad you want to finish! By you, so many 
noble men and valiant ladies have been tortured and reviled, 
driven from their lands and stripped of their goods! It is a marvel 
that God still suffers you and does not punish you with a bad 
death when you do not want to obey his commands. Girard, frank
paladin, remember how you served God! Did you not kill Duke 
Alon and dishonor his two daughters? All your jubilation and all 
your joy consisted only in doing evil. You amend yourself of 
nothing, you are becoming worse day by day. It has been a hundred 
years, Girard, since you took me as your wife, and since then you 
have never been weary of mischief. Theft, pillage, arson, these are
the crimes in which for a century you have never ceased to 
delight. Girard, call for your men. Fly to the aid of Charlemagne! 
Go against the pagans to atone for all your crimes."

	Girard hears his wife and his face begins to whiten 
somewhat. "Lady Emmeline, why hide it from you? I would gladly
depart, but I would derive neither glory nor profit from it. All the 
honor and the gain would be for Charlemagne."

	"Certainly," replies Dame Emmeline, "I would not abandon
the enterprise for such a reason. I would gather all my army. I 
would arrive in Aspremont in the wake of Charlemagne, 
according to my power I would avenge God, then I would come 
back via Saint Peter's in Rome where I would be washed clean of 
all my sins. Remember that you are old and your flesh is 
weakening."

	Girard listens to Dame Emmeline. His heart softened, he 
can no longer control himself. With great tenderness he grants 
what she asks. He begins to sigh for his sins. "Lady Emmeline," he 
says, "leave me alone. I would now like to be in accordance with 
God." Then Girard orders to have his letters sealed, he sends them
to all the lords of his kingdom. Princes and knights rush to him 
from all parts.

	When he sees them, he says, "Barons, we must leave. King 
Agolant has crossed the sea, his son Aumont, as I have heard told,
wishes to conquer France on top of Charlemagne with an army so
large that it cannot be numbered. If he can defeat Charles in 
battle, sooner or later we shall have no chance of escaping the 
same fate. Forward then, barons! If God grants that I return, I will 
know well to whom and how to demonstrate my love."

	Girard orders his sons to arm the knights. Then he turns to
his sweet wife. "Lady Emmeline, I am leaving for holy battle. If 
ever I have angered or annoyed you, I beg you, now, to grant me 
your forgiveness." And, crying, Girard hugs Dame Emmeline. 

	Girard walks away. He swears, the old man with his white 
beard, that this day will bring bad luck for the Saracens. He rides 
non-stop all day, morning and evening. He hastens towards the 
army of Charlemagne, which has now left Rome and has been 
ordered to go to Aspremont to dispute the Christian land with the
Saracens.

CHAPTER 7 - RICHER MESSENGER OF CHARLEMAGNE TO AGOLANT

Charles rides, our great emperor. Around him are his dukes and 
vassals; to guard his banner he has a hundred thousand men. He 
raises his hand and in the name of the Lord God he blesses his 
army. "Oh God," said Charles, "who with your own hand created 
heaven and earth and sea and water and countryside, confuse the
vile and savage race of the Saracens who invade my kingdom!"

	Charles is in sight of Aspremont. He orders the army to 
stay four days so that everyone gets a good rest. Then he sends 
for all his barons. Counts and dukes, peers and princes come 
immediately, as well as the pope himself. Everyone is seated 
around the emperor.

	"Lords," said Charles, "before going further and striking 
the Saracens, which one of you will want to carry my message to 
the fierce Agolant and at the same time count the number of our 
enemies?" 

	No one answers. After a few moments here is a lord who
decides to get up. He is the good Ogier of Denmark. He unties his 
cloak and kneels before Charlemagne. "Fine sir king, you must 
have no trouble. In your court I know of no knight who can serve 
you better than me. I will go up to Aspremont for you."

	"Ogier," said Charles, "withdraw, please. Never speak of 
that again, unless I ask you to."

	Then rises the seneschal Fagon, the greatest duke, cousin 
of Charlemagne. "Sir Emperor, I am your relative and I am your 
baron. It is from you that I hold Tours and all of Touraine. I am 
the seneschal of your household. It is I who bear your banner. To 
whom can you confide if not to me? I will go up to Aspremont for
you and I will enumerate the army of the pagans."

	"Fagon," said Charles, "leave this speech. Take your place, I
will not send you there."

	Then rises Geoffroy Grise Gonèle, Duke of Paris, the 
bravest lord. "Sir Emperor, do not be afraid that the pagans will 
steal these lands from us. You know well what I have done for you
in Saxony. I will go to Aspremont if it is your pleasure, to talk with
the Turks and the Arabs."

	"Geoffroy," said Charles, "do not show such haste. You will 
not go, I tell you no more."

	Then rises the good Aubuin, Duke of Beauvais. "Hey! King 
of France, I will climb the hill of Aspremont and inquire about the
forces of the Saracens."

	"Far be it from you, such an idea," said Pepin's son. "I will 
not send up any man of noble lineage who has land to rule, lest 
those accursed heathens put him to death. Is there not among 
you a poor knight, without land and without an heir, to carry my 
message to Agolant, that haughty and proud pagan who would 
like to take my empire away from me?"

	Then comes the good vassal Richer, nephew of Count 
Bérenger, cousin of the good King Desiderius. Before 
Charlemagne he kneels. "Sir Emperor, I am a knight, without son 
and without fief. If you deign to choose a man of my rank for your
message, I am at your disposal."

	"Friend," said Charles, "I am willing to grant you this 
honor. If you return safe and sound, I will grant you a magnificent 
reward."	

	Richer remained before Charlemagne. The king hands him
the message which he must deliver to Agolant. But Duke Naimon 
approaches the great emperor. "Sire, you have made a bad 
decision. Richer is brave, he is full of courage, in your court I 
know of no better knight. If these miscreants kill him, I will be in 
great mourning."

	"Naimon," said Charles, "do not be irritated. If he comes 
back, he will be nobly thanked. Let him go to the pagans and 
speak to them with reason and force, for they are proud and 
treacherous people."

	"It weighs heavily on me, Sire," said Naimon. I know 
Richer well, I have fed and brought him up in my house. He is 
fiercer than a lion, he will not take long to arouse the pagans 
against him."

	"Sir Naimon," said Richer, "no other than me will go. 
Charlemagne granted me the favor. I will go up, if I can, to 
Aspremont."

	Charlemagne said, "Let Richer go! With the blessing of 
God!" and then Richer went back to his tent to arm himself.

CHAPTER 8 - RICHER'S TERRIBLE ADVENTURE

Richer puts on his hauberk, he laces his round helm, and on his 
left side he girds his sword. He mounts his horse and takes a 
shield on which a lion is painted. He walks away from the tents, 
carrying Charlemagne's letter. May God protect him, because he 
is running towards a terrible adventure.

	He is approaching Aspremont when suddenly he sees a 
griffin, perched on a rock, staring at him with both eyes. The 
horrible beast has wings as long as a lance. It measures thirty 
feet from the tail to the nape of the neck and three feet from the
beak to the forehead. She is strong enough to carry the load of a 
mule. Her eyes are red as burning coals. When it flies, the sound 
of its wings can be heard as far away as the range of an arbalest. 
She left her little ones at the top of the mountain and she 
searches through the vast solitude for food for them.

	She flies against Richer at full speed and she violently 
strikes his shield with her wings. Neither reins nor stirrups can 
hold the knight back. He falls and, before he gets back to his feet, 
the accursed griffin seizes his steed. She plunges her claws into its 
thigh and with her beak she tears out its liver, lungs, guts and 
entrails, with which she flies away to find her young.

	Richer gets up, angry and very upset. He draws the sword 
he has girded at his side, but the bird is already perched on the 
rock overlooking the mountain. Richer is full of ire and fury. 
"God!" he exclaims, "How can I reach Aspremont, now that I have 
lost my Aragonese horse? If I plunge into this torrent, its 
disorderly course will drag me away."

	Richer, the good vassal, is overcome with grief when he 
sees that he has lost his destrier but he wants to cross the 
torrent. He throws himself into the turbulent waters. 
Undertaking full of folly! The current carries him along and he 
would soon have come to his last hour, if Our Lord had not 
provided him with help and succor by placing within his reach a 
strong root which was planted on the edge of the torrent. 
Grabbing it with all his strength, Richer climbs onto a rock and, 
jumping from stone to stone, he regains a narrow path. "Oh God!"
he said, "How dare I return to the Emperor's tent? What will Sir 
Naimon say, my lord, who raised and protected me?"

	The valiant Richer finds himself below Aspremont. A 
swarm of owls, falcons, and merlins had swooped down on the 
dead horse. Suddenly an enormous scorpion advances against 
Richer. It seizes the noble knight by his heel and tears off the 
spur which is on his foot.

	Richer feels that he will not be able to resist any longer. 
For better or worse, he decides to retrace his steps and he only 
stops when he arrives at the tent of Duke Naimon. There he tells 
the valiant lord the cruel way in which the birds of Aspremont 
slew his Aragonese steed. Naimon listens to him, full of shame 
and pain.

	"I thought you were a very noble baron. I am very sorry to 
have raised you. In you I nursed a vile coward. No, coward, you 
never dared to approach Aspremont," he says and he snatches 
Charlemagne's message from Richer's hands.

	Duke Naimon is prey to a violent wrath. He overwhelms 
Richer with sharp reproaches, Richer whom he nourished. Then, 
in haste, he arms himself. In a few moments his chamberlains 
prepared his good horse Morel for him, with rich coverings they 
have armed him, and here is Naimon, the noble and proud vassal, 
who mounts his courser with a robust and well-built body. How 
many tears his men shed on seeing him depart!

	On learning of the departure of the noble baron, 
Charlemagne is filled with ire and bitterness. "Lord, here I am 
completely robbed. If I lose Naimon, my good and illustrious 
vassal, never in this world will I have jubilation in my heart."

CHAPTER 9 - THE WRATH OF DUKE NAIMON

On his robust Morel, Duke Naimon goes to carry Charlemagne's 
message to the Saracens. He rides up straight and steep slopes 
and the snow falls and covers his horse's neck. Duke Naimon is 
white from his hauberk to his saddle.

	He passes close to the ravine at the bottom of which the 
turbulent waters carried Richer away. Icicles fall on it and 
stumble over each other. The torrent is as wide as the range of an 
arbalest. To pass it, Duke Naimon finds neither plank nor bridge. 
Then, invoking Saint Mary, he throws himself with his courser 
into the middle of the torrent. The Almighty protects him and 
there he is on the other side. He jumps down from Morel, who is 
shaking all over, frozen and torn, and they both rest for a few 
moments. Then Duke Naimon gets back on Morel, but he has hardly 
advanced a few steps when he finds on his right a ravine as steep 
as a cliff which plunges into the sea. "Oh, God!" said Duke 
Naimon, "It is not very good to dwell here. If Charles, my lord, 
should pass through these places, he will hardly give King 
Agolant any fear."

	Duke Naimon has climbed the slope of Aspremont and there 
are the birds, eagle-owls, vultures, falcons, merlin falcons, eagles, 
cat-owls, owls, and huge owls who see him from the top of their 
lair. The griffin who had so mistreated Richer descends on him. It 
lifts Morel thirty feet off the ground and drops him from that 
height. The Duke Naimon was nearly knocked from his saddle.

	Duke Naimon is afraid. "Lord Saint Gabriel," he said, "the 
royal army will never be able to pass here. Emperor Charlemagne
will never be able to cross these places. What pain, what suffering
he will endure!" Then he draws the sword hanging from his side. 
He strikes the griffin with such force that, as God willed in his 
goodness, he cuts off the two feet which cling to the horse's neck 
and remain suspended near the saddle. The griffin's leg was as 
long as a spear, from the heel to the tip of the beak, a stripe of 
wine or water would have entered the beast's body.

	Naimon spurs his horse. He will show it to Charlemagne.

	The valiant Naimon looks on either side, and at the foot of 
a rock, he sees the spur of Richer and his steed who was lying on 
the sand. "Oh, God!" said Naimon, "By your most holy name, how 
wrong was I to blame the noble Richer!" When he reaches the 
summit of Aspremont, it is pitch black. The birds fled. The duke 
lies under a leafy tree and he lays his sword down beside him. It 
is snowing, it is weather that no man in the world can resist. The 
duke is severely tried.

	Against a rock Naimon shelters Morel and, to protect 
himself, he has only the leafy tree. It is windy, it is snowing, the 
duke is cold, all his flesh trembles, and all night his teeth strike 
against each other like so many hammers. Oh, what a night Duke 
Naimon passed! From such a night no noble lord ever escaped. 
Duke Naimon will never forget it.

	Suddenly, at daybreak, a bear appeared, coming there to 
look for her newborn. She had given birth to him in the rock near 
which Duke Naimon had stopped. Mouth wide open, she rushes, 
furious, on the valiant baron.

	"God, protect me!" said the duke, drawing his sword and 
awaiting the beast with a firm footing. With a single blow from 
his weapon, he cut off the two paws of the bear who, after a vain 
effort, fell back. Ah! if you had heard the sound of its howls which 
resound all across the mountain!

	Suddenly, a bear and a leopard appear. They see the horse,
they want to jump on it, but Naimon draws his finely sharpened 
blade. He cut off the leopard's head and the terrified bear fled.

	Finally the sun rises again and Naimon descends the slope 
of Aspremont. He discovers the pines and the mountains of 
Calabria. He sees thousands of barks and boats rocking on the 
strait, and around the pavillions which are placed on the shore on
all sides, a swarm of Turks and pagans who go and lead a great 
fracas. And bitter are the tears this sight draws from the valiant 
Duke's eyes, for he also foresees the cruel sufferings and 
mournings which lie in store there for the Christians.

CHAPTER 10 - ENCOUNTER OF DUKE NAIMON AND GORHANT

Through a spy Agolant learned that Charlemagne's army had left 
Rome and was advancing towards Calabria. Gorhant, son of Balan,
offers himself to the king of the pagans to serve as his 
ambassador to Charlemagne. "Give me," he said to him, "your 
white destrier which came from overseas the other day. I will ask 
him what he prefers, to let himself be stripped of his kingdom or
to keep it while worshipping Mahomet."

	The pagans say, "Sire, give Gorhant your white destrier." 
And here the richly caparisoned steed, wearing a silver saddle, 
bridle, and spurs of gold, is brought in by Agolant's order.

	Gorhant hastens to put on his hauberk, to lace up his 
shining helm, and to strap on his sword with a shining gold hilt. 
Around his neck he puts his heavy shield bearing three leopards. 
Then he climbs up and seizes his gonfanon fixed by three gold 
nails to a pole, the top of which is armed with a sharp iron point.

	Before leaving, he bids everyone farewell. Addressing the 
queen, he said to her, laughing, "I am leaving, lady queen. I 
entrust you to Mahomet. I am going to see this Charlemagne who 
is said to be so formidable and to meet his famous knights."

	"Go on your way," answers the queen. "To my god 
Tervagant I commend you, may he protect you! You know our 
agreement very well. If you love me, never let it be said or known."

	"Lady, I will act according to your command." Gorhant 
rides on his horse that is whiter than an apple blossom. It is no 
wonder that he has joy and pleasure in his heart. He is rich, bold, 
a good chess player, adroit hunter, ingenious and brilliant in 
words, hard and proud against the arrogant, humble and merciful
towards the little ones, and generous with his treasures. Well 
made in body and of amorous complexion, he has captured the 
gaze of the queen.

	Suddenly he finds himself face to face with Duke Naimon. 
"Handsome sir," said the valiant Duke of Bavaria, "have pity on 
your horse. If you continue to walk at such a pace, before you 
have reached the top of this peak, your mount will be exhausted."

	"Who are you? Have you been baptized?"

	"Indeed, Sire, I was. I believe in God, the supreme judge 
whom the Jews put on the cross."

	"Certainly," said Gorhant, "you hardly conceal yourself 
from being a Christian. Are you from France, the good country so 
renowned?"

	"Yes," said Naimon, "I am from the city of Laon. Our 
Emperor sent me to Agolant to ask him why he had settled in his 
lands, killed his people, and desolated his kingdom."

	"You got yourself into a bad adventure," resumes Gorhant.
"By Mahomet, it is your misfortune that your great emperor sent 
you here. I think you will not be returning home in perfect health.
I really want to have your horse. Go get another if you do not want 
to continue on foot."

	"Sire," said Naimon, "it would be a sin to do so. Let me first
carry my message, then we will resume this dialogue."

	"Knight," insists Gorhant, "your black horse pleases me, it 
seems to me so fast, so strong, so robust. Dismount at once, you 
will ride no further."

	Naimon replies, "It would be inappropriate for 
Charlemagne's man to go on foot like this. Please, I tell you once 
again, wait until I have carried my message to your king Agolant. 
Then, in exchange for your white horse, I will give you my black 
horse. God confound me, if you do not have my last word there."

	Then Gorhant exclaims, "Your horse this instant! 
Otherwise, beware of my steel!"

	"Never!" replies Naimon.

	Gorhant wields his spear; but with his own Duke Naimon 
strikes the pagan on the first quarter of his shield, which he splits
and pierces, and he cuts the mesh of his solid hauberk. Gorhant 
returns the blow and breaks his iron on Naimon's golden shield, 
of which he does not however manage to break the slightest part.
Naimon and Gorhant then draw their swords.

	Ah! If you had been there, you would have seen the rivets 
of the helmets fly, buckles of the shields loosen, and fragments of 
armor fall to the ground!

	Suddenly, on the golden circles of Gorhant's helm, Naimon 
strikes a blow so furious that the heathen is dazed and he cannot 
see a thing. He clings to the saddle of his destrier, which takes off 
at a gallop.

	Naimon laughs and exclaims, "Where are you going pagan?
Admit it, I have lowered your pride a little."

	However, Gorhant remembers the one who greeted him so
nobly in the morning. He sits up on his steed, pulls the reins, and, 
sword drawn, he comes back to Naimon. They fight until they are 
weary. Finally, they stop and Gorhant says, "Knight, brother, speak
the truth. Are all Christians as brave and valiant as you?"

	"Vassal," said Naimon, "I have not tried them all, but there 
are certainly many better ones. Stop your questions! We will 
begin again, if it pleases you, after we have carried our messages, 
I my message to Agolant, and you yours to our great Emperor 
Charlemagne."

	Finally they agree and Gorhant leads the Frenchman near 
Agolant. They cross the ranks of the pagans. In Gorhant's shield 
they first see a hole large enough for a hawk to fly through. They 
also notice his helmet severed to the visor. They begin to murmur
among themselves, "Truly this foreign lord is neither a knave nor 
a coward. If the Christians know how to defend themselves in this
way, we were hardly well advised to come to them and to dispute 
their lands."

CHAPTER 11 - DUKE NAIMON SAVED BY BALAN

	Duke Naimon is before Agolant. The pagan king addresses 
him with pride and wrath. "Who are you? Speak frankly, vassal. 
Are you a knight? Do you own land?"

	Naimon replies, "I am a man of Charlemagne. It was he 
who gave me a knighthood. I am his sergeant and his master 
gatekeeper. The other day he gave me a little land, and when I 
come back he will give me a wife. Before that I had not a 
single denier."

	Agolant said, "Saracens and Slavonians, guard this 
Christian for me and bring him to me tomorrow morning. I will 
have all his limbs cut off. In spite of Charlemagne, I will have him 
quartered."

	"Sire," said Naimon, "do not be in too much of a hurry. A 
noble-hearted king does not recognize the right to act thus 
towards a messenger. The emperor, who sends me to these places,
wants me to ask you yourself why you committed the sin of 
coming to these places, of putting his people to death and his 
kingdom in ruins. Do you want to deprive him of his legitimate 
inheritance?"

	"Yes," said Agolant. It cannot go otherwise. If, before being 
baptized, he had come to me asking for mercy, I could have 
agreed with him. Let him bow before me and deliver his empire 
into my hands, if he does not want to be disinherited while alive 
and then perish in a new kind of death!"

	"Sire," said Naimon, "you will have to wait a long time 
before obtaining such a renunciation from our great Emperor 
Charlemagne."

	As Duke Naimon pronounces these proud words in a loud 
and firm voice, here comes a pagan who whispers in his ear. 
"Knight, give me your sword. If I perceive that anyone here wants 
your death, I will help you like a father helps his child. I have not 
forgotten what you did for me when I was in France. With all my 
power I will protect you. I am Balan." Duke Naimon heard him 
and thanked him very much.

	Duke Naimon stands before the King. Balan takes off his 
helm and his hauberk. He replaces them with a rich ermine and a 
cloak of dazzling silk.

	"Agolant," said Duke Naimon, "here is what I ask of you 
through Charlemagne. Will you flee from these places or will you 
advance further? France is so big and so vast that a trotting mule 
would take more than three months to traverse it. If you wish to 
conquer it, name the place, the location, and the hour of the 
battle."

	King Agolant calls Sorbrin, one of his advisers who had 
lived for an entire year at the court of Charlemagne. There he 
spied on our great Emperor, who, not on his guard, seated him at 
his table. "Do you know," said he, "this accursed messenger?"

	"Sire," answers Sorbrin, "by our God Apolin! I know him, 
as I know all of Charles's men, Droon the Poitevin, and King 
Salomon and King Thiorin, Hoel of Nantes and Geoffroy of Anjou, 
Duke Anquetin of Normandy, Baldwin of Beauvais, Archbishop 
Turpin, Cahoer, the king of the English, and Girard of Fraite, who 
harbors a mortal hatred towards Charlemagne. Yes, I know this 
lord who is there before you. He is not, as he told you, a poor 
knight, a wretched gatekeeper without money or mail to whom 
Charlemagne would have given a piece of land not long ago. By 
Mahomet who can judge us all! He is the wisest and most valiant 
of Charlemagne's men, the one whom the Emperor of France 
loves and cherishes above all. If you want to fill the heart of 
Charlemagne with wrath, have the limbs cut off of this man who 
is none other than Naimon, the illustrious Duke of Bavaria."

	Balan touches Sorbrin's shoulder and says to him in a low 
voice, "By Mahomet, shut up, son of a whore! If ever I hold you 
between my fists, I will beat you well in such a manner that you 
will never be able to cause harm to a noble man again."

	Then addressing Agolant, "Sire, are you going to believe a 
vile flatterer? I know Duke Naimon of Bavaria well. There is no 
finer knight in France and this man is not worth a denier. Do 
you believe that Charlemagne with the proud face would have 
sent you his great counselor, or just one of his servants? Certainly
not. He did not send you a sergeant or a valet. As for this Sorbrin, 
if you hand him over to me, I will immediately plunge him into 
this water until he drowns. And you, noble sir, listen to me. Do 
not believe flatterers and act like a true king. Follow the example 
of the princes who have gone before you. When a messenger 
speaks to you, hear him in silence and without fear and, if he 
speaks arrogant and outrageous words to you, limit yourself to 
laughing at them. This is how Charlemagne acted the other day 
when faced with my threats."

	Agolant then said, "As you please, Balan. Take this 
messenger, harbor him, and if he desires sendal, orphrey, mare, 
mule, or steed, grant his request. Do to him as Charlemagne once 
did to you."

	"Fine sir," answers Balan, "let it be as you please!"

	"Messenger, brother," then said Agolant, "you can go and 
tell Charlemagne that the battle will take place within three days 
in the meadows of Aspremont. Tell him this again and conceal 
none of my words from him. Never, since he was armed as a 
knight, since he had his sword girded on his left side, has he seen 
such a battle, nor such a quantity of pagans. But, if he wants to 
renounce his Christian name and adore Mahomet, I will, I believe,
still have pity on him."

	"Sire," said Naimon, "I listened to you carefully and I can 
assure you that such never was and never will be his will." With 
that, Naimon prepares to depart. He asks for his leave and Balan 
leads him to his tent. He provides the Duke of Bavaria with fine 
silk costumes brocaded with gold, then both go to the table. 
Naimon sits next to Balan. A crowned king, who is none other 
than Gorhant, serves him and wine is poured out into golden 
cups for him.

	Balan leans close to Naimon's ear. "Fair Sir Duke, welcome!
You have done me great honor in your kingdom. The same will I 
do towards you during all the course of my life. For my part, greet
Charles and give him my friendship. If this combat could be 
avoided, I would be baptized immediately." Gently, Duke Naimon 
thanks the noble Balan.

CHAPTER 12 - THE LOVE OF A PAGAN QUEEN

Meanwhile, Queen Aufélise, wife of Agolant, learned what had 
happened and what tone the Frenchman had used with regard to 
Agolant. She commands Balan to come and introduce the 
messenger of Charlemagne to her.

	When she sees Balan and Duke Naimon entering her tent, 
she rises from her seat. With her right hand she suddenly seizes 
the right hand of the valiant Frenchman and with her left hand 
she forcefully grabs his baldric adorned with precious stones, 
then she makes Naimon sit down and she seats herself at his side.

	She never tires of admiring the beauty of the bold knight, 
his clear face, his large eyes full of fire, his tanned complexion, 
the bruises left on his forehead by the heavy, clumsy helm. She 
immediately felt herself burning with love and to herself she said,
"Mahomet, if by your power you put me with him in a richly 
curtained bed, you would allow me to enjoy sexual pleasure 
which would be well worth a kingdom. Agolant never would be 
spoken of, for this Christian is full of youth, grace and vigor while 
Agolant is all decrepit in old age."

	Aufélise calls Naimon in a soft and tender voice. 
"Frenchman," she whispers, "in the name of the Christian faith, 
tell me, do you have a wife in your kingdom? And are all 
Christians as beautiful in appearance as you?"

	"Lady, I have not tried it. There are a great many more 
than me. You ask if I am married. Oh no, I had never thought of it! 
For in the service of my lord I dedicate myself entirely. And if one
day I marry a woman, it will be Charlemagne who chooses her 
for me." These words fill the queen's heart with jubilation. 
Quietly, secretly, she takes the baron's hand, then she puts a ring 
on his finger.

	"Lord," she said, "with this ring of fine gold I give you my 
friendship. Keep it, for it has great virtues. If you lose it, you will 
never find another like it. As long as you wear it on your finger, 
you cannot be bewitched, poisoned by venomous herbs, nor 
dispossessed of a single denier of the immense riches which 
you have amassed, nor defeated in battle, nor condemned in 
justice, nor lose your way. If I entrust it with you, it is so that 
when you return to your country I can quietly brag that secretly I 
have a warrior in the Christian world, and if I were to be loved by 
you, all my life it would be a very dear joy to me."

	"Lady," said Naimon, "you have done me so much honor 
that responding is entirely impossible for me." He asks for her 
leave and she grants it to him. Seeing him depart, she sighs from 
her heart and tears flow down her face. And Duke Naimon leaves 
her, deeply moved and deeply shaken.

	Balan retires with Duke Naimon. To the valiant knight he 
offers goblets of fine gold and rich cloaks of silk, vessels of 
gold and horses and deniers, but Duke Naimon refuses all these 
presents. So Balan brings in his good horse. It is a courser whiter 
than snow and crystal, he has a fine head and a splendid rump, its
golden bit is wrought with enamel, its saddle is of pure gold, and 
a rich silk covering protects its body. And Balan said, "Behold this
horse, noble duke. To run over hill and dale it is faster and more 
resistant than any beast in the world, and no mortal should ride it
unless he is a vassal of the bravest and boldest. Now, then, take 
this good courser to your king, and tell him as you give it to him 
that I promise to make myself a Christian once our strife has ended, 
but, as long as the rumor and the dread of the fighting lasts, I 
will not abandon the Saracen belief."

	"By Mahomet!" say the pagans watching the Frenchman 
cross their groups, "if all the Christians are so proud in 
appearance, we will not bring back to Africa either a mule or a 
palfrey."

	Balan escorts Naimon back. When both are in sight of 
Charlemagne's army, Naimon said, "Balan, come to us when it 
pleases you. The pope will give you baptism."

	"Thus would I have already acted," replies Balan, "but 
Agolant, my lord, raised me and knighted me. It would be a crime 
to fail him now, and I do not want any man to reproach me later. 
And yet I know only too well how the fight will end and that we 
will be defeated. Give greetings from me to Charlemagne and to 
all the lords of France!"

	Naimon gives the Saracen a cross which the Pope had 
given him. Balan takes it and bows. As long as he has it, he will 
be safe from death. Naimon also bows and leaves, and he does not 
stop until he has joined Charlemagne in his master pavilion.

CHAPTER 13 - DEFEAT OF AUMONT AND THE FOUR PAGAN GODS

The Emperor thanks God for returning his noble messenger to 
him. As he helped him down from his courser, he said to him, 
"Naimon, are you safe and sound and intact?"

	"Yes, Sire, I only got in trouble when climbing Aspremont. 
Ah, how wrong we were to blame Richer! On the sand I found his 
spur and the bones of his horse." And he recounts his terrible 
adventure with the winged beast. He pulls from his shoe the claw
which he gives to Charlemagne. With surprise and terror he looks
at the remains and he shows it to all the lords who marvel at it.

	"Take this magnificent white horse," adds Naimon. "It is 
Balan who offers it to you, Balan who is in haste to become a 
Christian! Ride, king! What are you waiting for? The army of the 
pagans is numerous, certainly, but among the Saracens the price 
of provisions is always increasing. A simple glove sells for a mark 
of silver, good mules and noble steeds die of hunger, it is on their 
flesh that the race of the unbelievers feeds, and for those who are 
hungry, what is their courage worth? Ride, king! Aumont guards a
tower built by Agolant with a hundred thousand men. Balan 
showed me a road which will lead your army straight to this 
tower. You will not need to climb this arduous and high mountain 
which seems attached to the clouds. Leave at once with your 
household and your people and you will find enough white silver 
and red gold to change your poorest relatives into rich men."

	"Many thanks, noble duke. But, tell me, what is this ring 
that I see shining on your finger?"

	"Sire, a talisman entrusted to me by Queen Aufélise, wife 
of Agolant."

	Charlemagne smiles for a moment, then he calls his 
warriors and the pope himself. "In the name of God who turned 
water into wine," he said in a loud and firm voice, "tomorrow at 
dawn you will set out. Let the sixty thousand men of my vanguard
go straight for the tower of Agolant. I will follow them with a 
hundred thousand other men, all devoted to my person. Ten
thousand men will hold my right, without losing sight of me. 
Carts full of provisions will accompany us, led by my squires and 
escorted by my servants."

	All respond, "Have the blessing of God!"

	The next day, at dawn, how many horns you would have 
heard blaring! How many counts, dukes, and princes you would have 
seen riding with their scintillating arms! How many hauberks! 
How many helms! What a forest of lances and banners all shining
with pure gold!

	Through mountains and valleys rides the great army of 
Charlemagne. It only stops half a day from the tower erected by 
Agolant. But there everything is in ruins, everything has been 
burned, destroyed, devastated by the Saracens. At this sight, 
Charlemagne begins to cry.

	The armies of Charlemagne, the noble justiciar, have set up
camp. Night is falling. Twelve counts with thirty thousand valiant 
iron-clad warriors march towards the tower of Agolant. They 
hear noise. Beneath the olive trees, shields around their necks, 
spears in hand, they lay in ambush. They keep quiet and silent, 
arranged in good order, ready for any event.

	Suddenly a thick dust cloud rises close to them. It is 
raised by a hundred thousand pagans who return, loaded with 
provisions plundered in the towns, the villages, and the hamlets
which they had stripped and burned, after having cut off the 
heads of many Christian nobles, the limbs of many little children, 
and the breasts of many poor women. In front of their horses, 
they push men, children, and more than three hundred maidens, 
daughters of knights, tied in pairs like bloodhounds.

	At the head of the pagans rides Aumont, the robust and 
strong limbed Saracen. And in front of Aumont parade the four 
gods of the pagans: Mahomet, Tervagant, Apolin, and Jupiter, each
carried on a pedestal. Their sides are gold, their mouths gape, 
they look like four cursed devils.

	And the pagans, laden with meat, bread, and wheat, dance,
frolic, and beat their drums. They mock the unfortunate 
prisoners who call out with all their voices, "Charlemagne! 
Charlemagne!" They reproach Aumont for not having destroyed 
the Monastery of Saint Peter and for not having had himself 
crowned in Rome.

	Aumont promises to take them soon to France where they 
will have goods, riches, and beautiful ladies in abundance, and he 
shouts, with a sneer, to the poor Christian prisoners, "You see 
how your Charlemagne, your great emperor, is coming! Do you 
not know that he fled out of fear a long time ago? In a short time, 
I will be master and king of France, and I will go to Rome to be 
crowned."

	Our thirty thousand knights perceive these words clearly. 
It is more than they can bear. At the summons of Huon of Mans, 
they all set off with fury, bows drawn, banners fluttering in the 
wind. "By Mahomet," said Aumont, "that is good news. Is it my 
uncle Moïsan, or King Esperrant, or King Boïdant who is coming?"

	But his standard bearer, Hector, the king of Val Penée, 
answers him, "It is the vanguard of Charlemagne. Sound your 
Olifant, valiant Aumont. Gather your people. We will soon have 
combat and battle."

	"Truly," answers Aumont, "I would never think of deigning
to raise my Olifant to my mouth for such people. Our race would 
be too dishonored!"

	Aumont is proud, strong, and powerful. If he had believed 
in Our Lord God, there would never have been a better knight in 
the saddle. He sees the counts and the knights going up the hill. 
He notices that there are not many of them.

	"Truly," he said, "Mahomet cherishes me. He gives me 
more than I ask of him. We had great need of arms and here are 
our enemies who bring us some. Let a messenger enjoin the 
French to surrender at my mercy and hand over all their 
weapons, after which they can, great and small, flee towards 
their camps."

	But what fury seized Aumont when his messenger - God 
damn him! - tells him that the French are ready to fight and that 
he also advises him to blow his Olifant. "If I sound the horn, may 
Mahomet curse me!" he exclaims, and he gives the order to the 
Saracens to advance.

	In a few moments the melee becomes terrible. How many 
shields are broken and split! How many valiant fallen warriors! 
How many bodies sinking in the ravines, making a muffled noise! 
How many Saracens stumble and lie dead!

	Aumont, filled with fierce anger, seizes Durendal and 
strikes marvelously at the French. Those that he pursues cannot 
escape death.

	Who was in this fight and was able to get out of it, will 
remember it all the days of his life. The Christians defeat their 
guilt by calling on Jesus the Redeemer to help them and the 
pagans invoke Mahomet and Tervagant.

	Already Anquetin has killed Pincenart, king of a kingdom 
which has never known cold and where neither snow nor hail 
has ever fallen. Huon of Mans killed Gillefroi, cousin of Aumont 
and lord full of pride. Geoffroi of Anjou pierced the heart, lungs, 
and liver of a valiant Turk from Argenoi who fell quietly at the 
feet of Aumont.

	At the bottom of a valley, Hector flies the banner of King 
Aumont. Richer swoops towards him and pierces his body with 
his steel javelin and knocks him out of his saddle. The banner of 
Aumont is on the ground. Aumont wants to raise it, but there are 
four thousand Frenchmen running up and forcing him to retreat. 
Then the Saracens flee in all directions, they think only of 
prolonging their lives. And there their gods remain alone, 
abandoned by their worshippers.

	Aumont fled, pursued by Richer who shouted to him, 
"Turn around, knight!"

	Willingly Aumont would have replied, but three thousand 
of ours arrive and drive him to a fishpond and they force him to 
dive into the water.

	Aumont has lost all hope. Not long ago he thought he was 
master of the world. But now he has only one idea, to save his life.
He finally manages to get out of the water. When he sees the first 
bridge of the tower, his heart beats with unparalleled joy. Richer, 
who is still pursuing him, feels that he is going to escape him. 
With ardor he brandishes his lance, the steel tip pierces the rump
and comes out through the chest of the black horse of Aumont. 
Covered in earth and mud, Aumont falls in front of the bridge. 
The pagans utter formidable howls, they lower the great 
drawbridge, they take their king into the keep, and they remove his 
armor and Durendal, his good, burnished sword.

	"Sire," they say, "they followed you closely."

	"Indeed," said Aumont, "my gods have completely failed 
me. They stayed there completely inert. They are the cause of our
defeat. To believe in them, one must have lost one's good sense."

	The battle is over. Our valiant knights spend the night on 
the great snow-covered mountain and the next day, at daybreak, 
Charlemagne arrives. The army crosses the torrent and, near a 
spring, in an arbor, the thirty marshals of the great emperor erect
the master pavilion. On the crystal ball which surmounts the pole
they place the golden eagle which shines like a shining star, and 
all around the army sets up camp.

	When the thirty thousand bring the Emperor the news of 
the victory and show him the four gods: Mahomet, Tervagant, 
Jupiter, and Apolin, and thirty mules loaded with gold, silver, and 
immense quantities of provisions, Charles's heart is filled with 
joy. But, of all the riches offered to him by his men, he does not 
want to take for himself even one glove's worth.

	"Keep," he said, "what at the cost of your flesh and blood 
you have so valiantly won! With this gold you will buy back your 
lands and marry off your daughters and sons."

	Charles commands that the gods the pagans had held so 
dear be smashed with iron mallets and steel picks. Ah! If only 
then you had seen the squires bring one an ax, another a lever, 
and set to work against the four gods who can do nothing but 
take it.

	In a short time the idols are in pieces and Charlemagne 
distributes the debris. To Droon of Berry he gives an arm of 
Jupiter, to King Salomon the left flank of Apolin, to Anquetin the 
thigh of Tervagant, and to Bérenger the right shoulder of the 
same god. As for Richer, for having knocked down the banner of 
the pagans and having pursued Aumont, son of Agolant, he 
received the very head of Mahomet. When Aumont learns the 
fate of his gods, he will fly into a greay fury!

	The army of Charles has plenty of food. Four loaves cost 
one denier and each one is big enough to satisfy the hunger of 
two knights. For two sols one can have a whole ox. The barley 
that is given for one denier is enough to satisfy the hungriest 
destrier.

	But the poor Saracens! They have nothing to eat. A single 
loaf of bread costs them fifteen bezants of pure gold and they 
have to pay ten sols for a quarter of mutton. They are counting on
the provisions which Aumont has seized, but they will have every
opportunity to remain with open mouths afterwards. They will 
never put their teeth into it, because the Germans and Bavarians 
are in the process of devouring everything.

CHAPTER 14 - ARRIVAL OF GIRARD OF FRAITE

Sirs, you have not forgotten Girard of Fraite who, the other day, 
with his sixty thousand warriors had left Vienne. He wants to 
arrive before Charles on the heights of Aspremont and here he is 
now a league from the tower of Agolant.

	Aumont has summoned all his reserve troops and he 
swears by Mahomet that he will renew the battle and that his 
father will know nothing of the first combat. But a hard surprise 
awaits him! Against him Girard has just sent Bovon, Claron, 
Ernaut, and Renier with four thousand Burgundians. And all of 
them do acts of piety and marvelously.

	Seeing his sons forcefully kill Saracens, Girard exclaims, 
"Ah! God, what noble young people I have brought up!"

	But here is Aumont gathering his men. "What are you 
doing, he said to them, Saracens and Slavons? Avenge the gods 
who have been stolen from you." And with violence he rushes 
against the Burgundians. They yield and Claron and Bovon 
retreat.

	Then Girard rushes on Claron. "Lord," he said to him 
furiously, "you are one of the beautiful young men of 
Christendom! But it seems that God does not want prowess to go 
hand in hand with beauty! No, today you hardly took me as a 
model. From the first day that I fought, know that I never deigned 
to yield. When everyone else had fled, I was still present on the 
field of battle."

	At these words he throws his spurs in Claron's eyes. The 
latter, seized with shame, says in a low voice to Bovon, "In the 
name of God, Girard is right. We have acted cowardly. Whoever 
will flee, may henceforth incur the curse of God!" 

	The fight resumes more violently against the pagans. 
"Fraite!" cries Girard, raising his standard, and all his vassals 
follow him. They only stop their march in front of Aumont's tent. 
There Girard raises his golden gonfanon which sparkles like a hot
coal. Then the Saracens fled on all sides.

	Aumont is drunk with fury; he draws Durendal, kills 
Asselin and Bernart, two noble knights, and he is about to take 
the life of Renier of Geneva, the father of Oliver and the beautiful 
Aude, when Claron and Bovon, Girard, Guy, Antelme the Brave, 
and more than seventy combatants appear.

	Aumont sheathed his sword, all dripping with blood, and 
fled along a steep rock with all of the Turks he had remaining. He 
curses his gods and runs away, full of wrath and sorrow. He 
thinks of the kings who were killed in this hard fight. His soldiers 
proclaim their misfortune and their despair. "What will we do, 
Sire?" they say.

	"Truly," responds Aumont, "you are too cowardly. And 
what are my brave flatterers doing at this moment? From Africa, 
in my great palaces, they conquered the countries of the 
Christians by courting my maidens with their fresh colors who 
gave them amorous kisses and by drinking my perfumed wines. 
Over there, they were superb victors who shared the towns and 
villages of France. But the French are not fearful men, they know 
how to strike with spear and sword. To my damnation, I have 
listened to the advice of felons. Certainly in my life I will never 
again be happy."

	And then, after shedding tears of anguish, Aumont 
composes himself. He sends his messengers to the great Saracen 
chiefs who are loyal to him and hold him dear. "Tell them they 
must succor me soon and quickly, but tell them also that I 
command them not to reveal anything to my father Agolant."

	At the call of the messengers, the pagan kings assemble 
their armies. Four thousand metal horns resound in the 
mountain. On carts the pagans pile up weapons, rams, and 
machines of war. They leap on their good horses and five 
hundred thousand of them hasten to avenge their gods and save 
Aumont.

	Triamodès, Boïdant, Salatiel, Cador, Amandras, king of 
Tintagor, the land where day never dawns, Lampal, father of 
Hector, Rodoan, the Emir Butran, King Esperrant, and King 
Maargon swear to seize by force the heritage and life of 
Charlemagne. It is the last two who in turn carry the standard of 
King Aumont. The spire of this standard is made of gold and at its
top has been stuck an idol of Mahomet who by sorcery and 
enchantment keeps shouting, "Ride, Franks and noble knights, I 
am going to put your Charlemagne in prison without delay and 
have Aumont crowned at Saint Denis!"

	But among the pagan kings is also Balan, who leads an 
echelon of the pagan army and he says in a low voice, so low that 
one can hardly hear him, "God who gave birth to me, as sure as 
you reign in heaven and in Trinity you are the true God, I ask you,
by your goodness, that my soul not be severed from my body 
before I have been reborn at the font of baptism."

	When Aumont sees his warriors arrive, he kisses them 
three by three and crying he tells them of the disaster. "I have 
great ire and great wrath in my heart over all this. Never again 
will I wear a wreath of flowers, nor will I beg my damsel to grant 
me her love, nor will I listen to either her or a harper. From now 
on I also say goodbye to the hunts of dogs, sparrowhawks, or 
goshawks!"

	The pagans answer him, "Do not be afraid. Before 
daybreak, we will have filled the heart of Charles with such fear 
that he will have abandoned all his cities and all his possessions 
to us."

	"Barons," said Aumont, "there was furious despair in me 
when I saw our gods toppled and thrown to the ground. The 
French felons chased me so much that they forced me to dive into
the deep water of a fish pond. I never listened to the lessons of 
my father who advised me to exalt the good, to love the master 
craftsmen and to hold them dear. What am I saying, I have always
fed the bad flatterers who by their foolish words have caused me 
so much harm. But if I can ever return to Africa, I will exterminate
them or, at least, from first to last I will chase them from my lands."

CHAPTER 15 - HOMAGE OF GIRARD OF FRAITE TO CHARLEMAGNE

The Saracens spread over the mountain, uttering savage cries. 
Their number is such that no one could ever count them, they 
cover two full leagues. If our people were cooked and well-
seasoned meat, they would eat them all in one meal. Girard urges 
his soldiers to give battle. Without further delay, all arm 
themselves.

	When Girard sees them descended to the bottom of a 
valley to await the army of Aumont, he raises his banner. It is the 
sign of imminent combat.

	Suddenly Charles notices at the top of the tower an 
Oriflamme that he does not know and he sees knights running at 
full speed. "The Saracens!" shouts the Emperor. "Barons, kill all 
these pagans!" 

	At this order, four knights rush on their steeds, raising 
their shields. Immediately four knights on the opposing side 
break away and advance against the noble barons of Charlemagne. 
In a few moments the shields are pierced, the lances break into 
shards which fly in the wind. Knights fall on either side.

	Suddenly, one camp utters the cry of "Montjoie!" and the 
other that of "Fraite!" The fight ceases. With astonishment the 
adversaries question each other.

	"Well, say, vassal, who are you?"

	"I am Claron. I came here with my father, Girard of Fraite, 
for the service of God. But you, what is your name?"

	"I am Ogier, from the household of Charlemagne. He is the 
great emperor who nurtured me when I was a little child."

	And further, "Who are you, knight?"

	"I am Renier, son of Girard. I came to Aspremont to pray to
God with my weapons. Look over there at that man and those 
warriors. It is Girard who commands the army of the 
Burgundians. But you, what is your name?"

	"Ah! May God protect you, brother knight! Because your 
help was badly needed. I am Duke Naimon." On this word, the 
two warriors fall into each other's arms. What joy is witnessed in 
the valley of Aspremont, when the noble men of the two armies 
are recognized!

	Girard sees Charlemagne, dressed in a silk cloak, shod 
with spurs of pure gold, and wearing a sable hat on his head. 
Then he repents for having called him vile and a coward. Girard 
approaches Charles. He puts his arms around his neck and the 
two kiss each other. 

	Before Charlemagne straightens up, the hat slips from his 
head and falls to the ground. Girard bent down, picked up the 
headgear and, bowing deeply, he placed it in the hands of the 
great emperor, to whom he offered his sixty thousand well-armed
Burgundians mounted on swift steeds.

	Charlemagne greatly thanks Duke Girard. "From several 
lands," he adds, "we are assembled here. If not for me, then for 
the love of God, you should join us. So I see no harm if I offer to 
be your suzerain now and in peril."

	"I fully agree to your request," replies Girard. "One day we 
will return, you to France and I to the kingdom where I was born. 
If I serve you well in this struggle against the pagans, afterwards 
you will be grateful to me."

	"Whatever you ask me then, I will grant it to you," said 
Charlemagne.

	This is how Girard pays homage to King Charles.

	Turpin, who is present at this scene, is in a dream and 
reverie, for he has not yet forgotten the outrages of words and 
actions committed a few days earlier by the fierce Girard. He 
marvels at what he sees and hears beautifully. He took pen, ink, 
and parchment, and in Latin he transcribed the words just 
spoken by the Duke Girard of Fraite and the great Charlemagne.

	Charlemagne and Girard do not delay. Charles puts on the 
hauberk he had won from King Macabré in the meadows of Tortoles. 
It is a hauberk of triple steel links. He fears no arrow, no 
sword blade. The sides are covered with silver and the sleeves 
and collar are of pure gold. On his head Charles fixes a marvelous 
helm. The gemstones which adorn it have such virtue that 
whoever wears it fears no blow, however strong it may be. Then 
on his left flank Charles girded the formidable Joyeuse. The hilt 
of this illustrious sword is of gold and the relics of Saint Denis 
and Saint Honoré are enclosed therein. Whoever wears it fears 
neither iron nor poison. Around his neck Charles hangs his shield
with gold images, with a strap of rich fringed silk.

	Then to the emperor they bring a white courser with a 
rich saddle and golden bridle. Its chest is covered with cloth of 
gold and surrounded by bells that, when he walks, ring with a 
sound so sweet and so harmonious that one no longer has any 
desire to listen to either viol or harp. Charlemagne puts his foot 
in the nielloed stirrup presented to him by five dukes, then he 
takes his lance of rich ash with finely sharpened iron and his 
gonfanon fixed by three gold nails.

	Thus armed and clothed, the king, with his great size and 
his vigorous limbs, looks like an angel who has descended from 
heaven to earth. His shield suits him so well that it looks like he 
had it when he came out of the womb of the queen his mother. Ah,
how one recognizes in him a true knight! All his barons look at 
him with wondering eyes.

	"Sire Girard," he said, "by the mercy of God, all is well now 
between us. Agolant has entered my kingdom to devastate and 
ruin it. Now that I have mounted my horse and fixed my helm on 
my head, if he were not punished for his crimes, I would be 
mocked and dishonored!"

	"Sire, you are telling the truth," answers Girard. "Here is 
the redoubtable Aumont, accompanied by so many heathens that
one cannot count them. Do you see them coming down from this 
mountain? It behooves us to act wisely so that they cannot drive 
us out of this camp. Send your advance guard against them now, 
my warriors will cross this valley and I will attack the pagans on 
the other side. If we can surprise them from two sides, they will 
have great terror and strong agitation, and we will inflict defeat 
on them all the more easily. It will be a glorious day that no 
survivor will be able to forget."

	Lorraines, Germans, Lombards, Flemings, Frisians, 
English, Normans, Gascons, French, Angevins, Manceaux, 
Tourangeaux, Burgundians, each bearing the red cross on their 
right shoulder, hasten the pace. The speech of Charlemagne and 
the blessing of the pope, who passed through the ranks signing 
the warriors with the bare arm of Saint Peter, excited the general 
ardor. It is with joy that, preceded by the two silk banners on 
which are embroidered three figures of grimacing dragons, they 
all approach the enemy.

CHAPTER 16 - BALAN RECALLS HIS PREDICTIONS

No sooner had the vanguard climbed the slopes of the mountain 
than sixty thousand Saracen felons barred their passage. The 
stinking pagans have good armor and good bows. With their 
cries, their horns, and their drums they make such a noise that 
thunderous God could not be heard. It is the rich king Balan who 
leads them, around his neck hangs his shield bearing three gold 
lions with grimacing mouths.

	While the knights of Charlemagne attack the pagans on 
the left, Girard of Fraite arrives on the right with his sixty 
thousand Burgundians, and the heathen army retreats half a 
league. Girard, who has faith in God, launches his horse into the 
fray. Nabigant, king of the land of Abîme, stops in front of him. 
Agolant had brought this vassal with him and he intended to give 
him all of Burgundy. Our Lord does not intend to let that happen, 
for Girard splits and pierces the shield of the disbeliever, and the 
steel of his lance pierces his heart. With Nabigant dead, Girard 
calls on his men, "Have no fear. I am Girard, your leader. Follow 
me and Our Lord God will protect you. The souls of those who die
here will fly straight to heaven, and those who come out of the 
battle alive will be filled with an abundance of riches."

	The knights reply, "None of us will refuse to support you."

...................................................................

	And now the battle is over. How many heads without 
bodies! Nowhere on the battlefield is there enough room to cover 
a mule, so many hauberks, shields, swords, and men dead or 
covered in blood lie there. The sun has disappeared, the shadows 
extend over the peaks and the plain. The pagans retreat again out
of the range of an arbalest. The camps are only separated by a 
sunken path. The sky is clear and the moon is rising. Sentinels 
watch on both sides.

	Tonight there are many tears shed. The wounded let out 
harsh complaints and the living heave heavy sighs for those who 
have forever left them. In both camps no one, courteous knight or
peasant, takes the time to eat bread or meat, neither is there a 
horse that cares for barley or hay. Each man holds the bit of his 
steed with his left hand and the hilt of his naked sword with his 
right hand. Christians and Saracens wait with anguish for 
daybreak and you can guess that they do not indulge in dancing 
or festivities.

	Aumont of Africa thinks of all his family, the dead, the 
wounded, and the others who are safe and sound. He intends to 
raise a curse against Agolant who wanted to wrest Charlemagne's
kingdom from him, without suspecting the courage and the 
valiance of the French.

	He quivers with anger and laments miserably. Balan 
approaches and says to him, "It is no wonder, Sire, if you are 
wrathful and annoyed. You remember that those accursed 
boasters wanted to hand me over to death. According to them, 
they were already masters of this kingdom and, had they been 
asked, they would have conquered it by blowing on it."

	"Ah!" said Aumont, "why did I not know sooner! But, if ever 
I escape the fate that threatens me, hard will be my vengeance. I 
will disinherit all these flatterers, them and their descendants."

	Aumont feels his wrath and his despair redoubled and 
Balan says to him, "This is what all these gluttons have reduced 
you to! I believe we will never cross the sea again. We are far 
from Africa and will never see it again. And the French now want 
to deprive you of your life. Do you believe in this hour what I once
told you about the strength of Charlemagne?"

CHAPTER 17 - CORTAIN AND DURENDAL

As soon as dawn appears again, Aumont goes through his camp 
and comforts his pagans and certainly he promises more than he 
can give. He rapidly reformed his army in seven echelons, the 
least of which numbered twenty thousand men. The horns 
resound and Aumont exclaims, "Ride on, Saracens! Do not delay.
After the enemy! Avenge your gods against them!"

	For his part, Charlemagne addresses proud and strong 
words to his warriors. All promise God never to commit sins 
again, if they emerge alive from the bloody struggle. Then 
Charlemagne gives the order to advance. But what mourning the 
place of the encounter will witness!

	Here is Aumont on an Arab courser. He wears his hauberk 
made at Misenum, a golden helm covered with precious stones, 
some of which are worth as much as the kingdom of Brittany. In 
his hands he brandishes a lance made of ash and a large flag. He 
rides against Antelme of Germany, whom he knocks down dead 
by thrusting his stiff lance through his heart. It matters little 
to him that we pity and regret this valiant man. Then, while 
Triamodès is about to strike Geoffroy Grise Gonèle, Aumont 
draws Durendal of the sharp blade and behold, Garnier and 
Rainaud of Orbendèle are dead.

	"God," said Ogier, "what fury this pagan has! I am deeply 
saddened that this accursed man has such a hard and long life!" 
And, Cortain in hand, he rides on the pagan king. He cuts off his 
coif and strikes his forehead, from which the blood flows. The 
sword passes through the pommel, severing the thigh of the 
courser who falls to the ground.

	Aumont lands on his feet and says to Ogier, "I commit you 
to the devils, because it is indeed a devil who forged your sword. 
If he had lengthened it for you ever so slightly, it could have 
measured itself against my Durendal. I have never seen one so 
good in the hand of a knight. Pity that it is too short to be of 
service to you! Ah! Your heart must feel wonderful joy, since 
today you have transformed the King of Africa into a simple 
pedestrian, whereas until now no one had dared to approach me. 
But, by Mahomet who must judge us, I am going to present to you
the steel of Durendal which shines more than coal in a brazier!"

	Brandishing Durendal, in one blow he chops off a quarter 
of Ogier's shield and cuts the neck of his destrier. Whether he 
wants it or not, Ogier stumbles, but he lands on his feet. He is far 
from being a coward and he is determined to take his revenge 
before he dies.

	Anquetin, a bold Norman, sees Ogier and Aumont in hand-
to-hand combat. He rides up, he kills Boïdant, whom Aumont 
loved dearly, takes his horse and shouts to Ogier, "Get on, Dane, 
do not waste a moment." And Ogier jumped into the saddle but the
turmoil of battle drags the two combatants away from each other.

	Aumont splits the head of a German, whom he sees close 
to him, down to the teeth. Then he looks at his man, Boïdant, 
lying dead. He is in great mourning. In his Saracen language he 
addressed supplications to Mahomet and he swore not to believe 
during his life any flatterer or any man who boasted too much.

	The fight is still going on. The pagans fall in large 
numbers. But how many Christians also succumb! Girard cries hot 
tears which wet the curls and the two forks of his beard. Thousands 
of knights lie on the ground around Charlemagne, deprived of their
heads. When the emperor sees his noblest vassals approaching 
him with exhausted looks, broken lances, and torn helmets, he 
says, "Ah! Here are men who hardly think of dancing or courting 
ladies!" And, whether happy or wrathful, mourning and sadness 
fill his heart.

	Nevertheless, Ogier, the valiant Dane, spurred his horse 
onward. Five steel tips are still stuck in the body of his robust 
horse. His shield is so damaged that it could not have been of any 
service to any Frenchman. His shiny helm is broken, his hauberk 
is bent out of shape, and vermilion blood has even spurted on his 
spurs. He holds Cortain, his good sword, in his hand. Seeing him, 
French, Germans, and Bavarians say, "In this man there is a noble 
knight."

	Ogier stops in front of Charlemagne. "Charles, handsome 
Sire," he says, "we have taken a pagan. He has told us about 
Aumont's plans. Aumont refuses to call Agolant to his aid and the 
pagans are starting to get agitated. Send us all the men you can 
find. As soon as they see our ranks thicken, the Saracens will flee."

	"Ogier," said Charles, "it shall be done as you request!" 
Immediately Charles sends Droon and Andefroi to carry messages to 
the various camps. "Tell everyone to come in haste. Those who have 
no destrier will mount a palfrey or else come on foot."

	Through a thicket Aumont sees the Oriflamme and the 
army of the emperor. "Ah!" he exclaims, "By Mahomet, Balan had 
indeed spoken to me truly. I would be mad indeed if I still 
doubted his statements!"

	Charlemagne throws himself into the fray and gets to the 
head of his army. He kills Moridant, a disloyal pagan, and the 
Emir Morant, cousin of Agolant. Then he draws Joyeuse, I know 
of no richer sword except Durendal. Naimon sees the Emperor in 
the middle of the field of battle. He signals Anquetin the Norman, 
Fagon, and Ogier. All together rush to Charlemagne. "Sir Emperor,"
said Naimon, "in the name of our Redeemer, do not put yourself 
in the front like this. If we lost you today, we would feel great 
mourning. If you are dead, we are lost. If you are alive, we will 
fight with complete surety."

	And Charles replies, "Knights, if you die, what use is it to 
me to live! It would not please God, the king of Bethlehem, that 
once you are all dead, only I remain alive." At these words, 
everyone around him begins to cry.

	With rage the twenty thousand Frenchmen strike at the 
cursed ones. They kill seven thousand of them and the others flee,
the majority trailing their guts. "Aumont, they shout, come to our 
aid. You alone can protect us from these vile Christians."

	Aumont is full of fury. He draws Durendal. He rides on the 
valiant Anquetin and with a single blow he slices through him up 
to his shoulders.

	Now, lords, listen to what miracle occurs. Anquetin, dead, 
falls from his horse. He whirls around and falls back seated on 
the ground, his hands stretched out to heaven on the eastern side 
and, singing, the angels carry his soul away to paradise. 

	At this sight, mourning seizes Charlemagne. "Oh wretch," 
he laments, "it was you who brought me into Rome, when 
everyone had betrayed and abandoned me. If ever God wants to 
grant me a gift, may he grant the prayer that I address to him for 
your salvation and your mercy!" And he spurs his horse, shouting,
"Strike! Strike!" With his own hand he cuts down a Saracen and 
all the knights who hear him strike as best they can. If they had 
continued like this, in a short time, the battlefield would have 
been emptied of Saracens.

CHAPTER 18 - PRIZE OF THE STANDARD OF AUMONT

Lords, make peace. Listen to my song and know how Girard, the 
valiant Duke of Fraite, fights against the Saracens. May God, father
of all men, creator of all things, protect him in his hard task!

	Girard advances his fifty thousand Burgundians against 
the hundred thousand Turks who accept Aumont and his 
Oriflamme. "Lords," he said, "listen to me. We are not fighting a 
customary struggle today. When one of my neighbors comes to 
attack me, he burns my land and I burn his, one captures the 
castle or keep of the other. The one who is successful returns 
home at night and it is all over. But these pagans, if they hunt 
us, tell me, where shall we go? We are caught wherever we turn. 
It only remains for us to commend ourselves to God who brought 
us into the world when we will not exist anymore.

	With that, Girard rides forward, spurring Matefélon, his 
rapid courser. He brandishes his lance, he deploys his gonfanon 
and pierces the shield, the vermilion hauberk, the liver, and the 
right lung of Macabrès, a Saracen felon. In the midst of the pagans
he strikes him down dead and exclaims, "Come! Strike, barons! 
Ours is the right! If it pleases God, we will vanquish. Strike, 
barons, without any respite! Bring me the standard of Aumont. I 
want it. If no one gives it to me, you will be disinherited and 
cursed!"

	His men hear him. They think he has lost his senses and 
they say among themselves, "If he could count all the Turks who 
are there, covered in their armor, he would find a sum of a 
hundred thousand."

	And Girard said, "Claron, Bovon, Ernault, Renier, my 
children, and all of you, barons, who hold land in my name, 
forward! This standard, I ask for it and I demand it. Otherwise, I 
will tell you what will happen, if I ever return to Burgundy, I will 
not leave you an inch of your fiefs and I will disinherit all your 
lineage."

	His men still say, "Girard is losing his senses more and 
more. But, willingly or not, you have to obey."

	The trumpets sound, the Burgundians ride forward, 
striking in front and behind, on the right and on the left. Seeing 
them gradually approach the oriflamme, King Maargon and King 
Esperrant whisper in each other's ears, "He was right, the 
messenger Balan, when he spoke to us of the valor and courage 
of the Christians. Aumont is too arrogant and too extreme to want
to fight without his father Agolant. Never did a child commit such 
an outrage. If the king had been there with all the rest of his army,
Charles would be defeated. He could not have advanced and, at 
this hour, we would have all of France in our power. Before the 
sun disappears, Aumont will be punished for his pride and his 
unreason will appear to everyone's eyes. We would be fools also, 
the rest of us, to defend the standard of this overweening man. 
Why stay here? Is it not better to flee?"

	And Girard shouts, "If, at this moment, the standard is not 
placed in my hands, I will not owe any of you, my children, my 
barons, any more friendship or salvation." The mountains resound 
with groans. The Saracens fall under the blows of the Burgundians.

	And Girard shouts again, "Barons, listen to me. If you die 
here, you will all be martyrs. God will put you in paradise with 
the Saints. There, your heads will be crowned with flowers, your 
desires will be fulfilled."

	The Saracens fall in larger and larger numbers, and 
Esperrant says to Maargon, "We can no longer guard the 
standard. Aumont, our sire, will take it, if it pleases him." And 
behold the two pagan kings fleeing with all the speed of their 
coursers.

	The standard remained standing in the middle of the 
battle field. The Burgundians seize it immediately. They return to 
Girard, who is disarmed by his sons. "Sire," they say, "here is your 
wish granted!" And they wrap him in the trophy.

	"Thank you, noble children," said Girard then. "I do not 
complain of having raised and nurtured you. My knights, many 
thanks! I have often been bad, I know, but now I will right all my 
wrongs. The service you have just rendered me, I will recognize it
by opening my treasure chests to you, if we ever return to 
Burgundy. Who is not married, I will give him a rich and valiant 
wife."

	Girard has fought so hard that he is tired. Blood streams 
down his face. At this sight, his men shed tears. Girard said, 
"Do not cry. It is for God that we suffer such suffering. Get back 
on your horse and keep striking. We will search for Aumont, that is 
all I request."

	Great is the noise, piercing the cries, and ardent the 
battle. Charles summons Naimon and Ogier. "Barons," he said, "you 
hear how Girard fights. If I lose him, I will be very sad."

	For his part, Girard does not take respite. He calls a 
hundred of his men. "Take this Oriflamme. Make a present of it 
from me to Charlemagne, who is master of France. And tell him to
have no fear, because the pagans are going to weaken more and 
more."

	The men reply, "Sire, according to your order it will be 
done."

	When the hundred men present themselves before Charlemagne, 
the Emperor says, "Ah, God protect Girard from death and prison! You, 
sir messengers, tell the valiant Duke that I thank him greatly. If 
God grants that I return to France, I will grant him a generous 
reward." The messengers bow and they immediately return to take their 
places in combat.

CHAPTER 19 - THE SOUND OF THE HORN

With Durendal, Aumont strikes as the true felon that he is. He 
makes terrible carnage among the French but the Saracens 
weaken more and more and Triamodès then says, "By my faith, 
Aumont, you were very wrong to attack Charlemagne without your 
father. Strongly will you be blamed, because the French have
inflicted cruel losses on us which can never be repaired. Blow 
your horn! The king will hear it in the city of Rise. He will come 
to our succor. Otherwise, we are in dire danger."

	Aumont looks at him from top to bottom and answers him 
with great pride, "By Mahomet, my uncle, everything that Balan 
predicted has come true! And you, who, over there, in my 
kingdom, said you could count on conquering all of France, your 
words have turned out to be false. And in this hour you come to 
advise me to sound my Olifant! If ever I return to Africa, I will 
disinherit you and all of your troop of vile flatterers. Know it well,
that I have already sworn to Mahomet long ago never to sound 
my horn for aid against the French and I do not want anyone to 
be able to reproach me for having committed such cowardice in 
my life."

	No sooner had Aumont spoken than a Saracen, pale with 
terror, rushed towards him. A quarter of his shield is cut off, the 
shaft of his spear is broken, and he is covered with wounds. We 
can see that he is returning from an attack. He informs Aumont 
that his standard has been taken and is already in the hands of 
Charlemagne. He also tells him that King Maargon has fled and 
that King Esperrant has followed him.

	Aumont hears him and he cannot believe it. At first he is 
completely demoralized, then he swears revenge. He launches 
into the melee. In quick succession, with the help of Durendal, he 
slices off the heads of three valiant knights. The French fled and 
cried, "Charles, where are you? If that devil is not defeated soon, 
we are dead and France will be lost forever."

	But suddenly, Ogier of Denmark stands before Aumont. A 
blow from his lance, which strikes like lightning, makes the pagan
fall to the grass. Durendal flies out of the hand of Aumont. Ogier 
is already thinking of seizing it, but Aumont prevented him. He 
picks up his sword and straightens up quickly.

	"I hold you to be an assassin, you who dare to attack me 
thus. It is right that you receive recompense for your crime," he 
says and strikes Ogier on his round helm.

	Ogier then draws his good sword Cortain. It was forged at 
the same time as Durendal. The craftsman who had tempered it 
had tested it on an anvil and Cortain had sliced the anvil down to 
the base, but at the same time it had broken. However, the steel 
was of such good quality that the workman had sharpened it 
again. If it had not been so short, it would have had no rival in the 
world and Durendal would never have been able to resist it. 
When Ogier draws the blade from the scabbard, it shines brighter
than a wax torch lit in a cellar.

	Ogier hits Aumont hard on his helm with rings of gold. If 
the pagan had not turned his head away, he would never have had
the opportunity to measure himself against Charlemagne. And 
Aumont said, "That is a good blow! I recognize you well, because
I already fought with you this morning. You are a brave and 
valiant man, you already proved it to me. If you abandoned the 
Christian faith, I would give you the kingdom of Fémenie and I 
would crown you king when I had conquered all of France."

	"Truly," said Ogier, "I have never had such a thought. We 
will not separate until one of us has cut off the other's head. If I 
die, I will have had a good day, my soul will go straight to 
paradise, but if it is you who perish, your soul will be damned, for
your God is not worth a sol."

	"Since you talk like this," replies Aumont, "I swear to your 
death."

	Duke Naimon, King Salomon, Duke Fagon, Richer the 
German, King Droon, and King Desiderius arrive to the aid of 
Ogier, followed by a thousand combatants. They cry, "Who are 
you, Persian Sir? By your god Tervagant, tell us the truth!"

	"I will speak the truth," said Aumont. "I have never lied 
in my lifetime. I am Aumont, son of Agolant. I am king of Africa, 
beyond the sea of mighty waves. I am master of Alfagne, of 
Béfanie, of Persia where the Persians live, Syria belongs to me as 
far as the river Jordan, Moriane and Babylon depend on me, 
Alexandria and Upper India are under my command, and it was I who 
gave his land to Prester John, the land where no man uses false 
words. I am king of Africa as far as the Split Tree. Towards the 
Orient, all the way to where the sea rolls its waves, I am almighty 
king. If I could conquer the Occident, I would be absolute master 
of the universe. But Charlemagne does not want this to happen 
and he defends it from me. If it had not been a shameful thing for 
me and my people, I would have summoned the great reinforcements 
from Rise which are there, for there are still more men there than 
you see with me."

	The French say among themselves, "May God protect us! If
Charles received the head of this rich baron as a present, what joy
would fill his heart!"

	On their side, the pagans arrive to the aid of Aumont. 
Triamodès kills Duke Milo, but immediately Duke Bérenger 
knocks Trïamodés down dead at the feet of Aumont.

	Aumont heaved a long sigh and, finally seizing his Olifant, 
he sounded it with marvelous fury. Rise is too far away hear it, 
but at the sound of the horn the Saracens gather once more. They
utter terrible cries and they throw themselves on the Christians 
in rage. French, Limousins, Lorrains, Normans, and Poitevins 
remain cut off.

	Charles himself keeps his face lowered. "Hey God," he said,
"you who turned water into wine, protect my army! If these pagans 
are ever victorious, I will never again go to France to hear the 
morning mass. Right here with my steel blade I will kill myself." 
He is in deep mourning and everyone around him is crying with him.

	But suddenly we hear the sound of horses, joyous cries in 
the mountains and the plains. At a bend in the road appears 
Andefroi who exclaims, on his surprised horse and as far away as 
he is able to, "Courage, Charlemagne, here are the young warriors
who are running to your rescue."

CHAPTER 20 - EXPLOITS OF THE FORTY THOUSAND YOUNG WARRIORS

And from the valley Charlemagne and his barons indeed saw 
forty thousand squires, chamberlains, cooks, butlers, cup bearers,
footmen, and gatekeepers, the eldest of whom was not fifteen 
years old, climbing the slopes of Aspremont, ready to bring an 
end to the cursed race.

	At Andefroi's call, all were mounted either on battle horses
or on draft horses. Those who had no swords had taken stakes, 
clubs, levers, maces, axes, large steel knives, or branches of oak 
or whitebeam which they had broken off, and then they had cut 
gonfanons out of the tablecloths. At full gallop the valiant young 
Roland, Estolt, Haton, and Bérenger had led them to the field of 
battle.

	They fall on the pagans like madmen and the infidels say 
among themselves, "It truly is not good here. The army of 
Charlemagne does not stop growing. Let us flee these accursed 
woodcutters who are chopping up our army. By Mahomet, Balan 
was quite right when he boasted of Charlemagne's strength and 
prowess! France will always be in his power. It is useless to seek 
to wrest it from him. Woe to Aumont who allowed such mad 
desire to enter his mind!"

	Roland shouts, "Montjoie! On to the pagans, squires! To 
each of you Charlemagne will give a wife."

	And Aumont shouts, "Africa!" But the disordered groups 
of pagans no longer hear his voice and it is Girard and his sons, 
with more than five thousand Burgundians, who, at this call, fall 
on the remains of the Saracen army.

	Whether he wills it or not, Aumont quickly flees on his 
destrier, the best and fastest that could be found as far as 
Jerusalem. Profound disarray entered into him. With great 
agitation he wails to King Balan, King Sinagon, and King Gorhant 
who sadly accompany him in his flight and Balan says to him, 
"Hey! Aumont, Sire, stop moaning like this. Are you a woman who 
weeps for her lover?"

	Aumont fled. He sobs as he rests his mournful head on the 
neck of his courser. And the French pursue him. Suddenly 
Aumont turns around with the three other kings, his companions,
and he strikes the valiant Duke Naimon. The latter falls from his 
horse, but in an instant he gets up, sword in hand, and makes 
King Sinagon's head fly in the air. Ogier runs up and with a blow 
of his lance he pierces the shield, the hauberk and the body of 
King Gorhant, which he lays dead on the thick grass.

	Aumont recognizes Ogier. He cuts down his horse, without
however injuring him and, for his part, Balan, touched with 
mortal pain on seeing the lifeless body of his son Gorhant, rushes 
at Charlemagne. He splits the shield of the great emperor, but this 
one has such a hauberk that he fears neither weapon, nor steel, 
nor any metal whatsoever, and he retaliates by throwing Balan to 
the ground. King Balan gets up, but twenty spears, twenty swords
are already on him.

	"What will you gain when I die?" said Balan. "If I found 
Duke Naimon of Bavaria, I would immediately have myself 
baptized. I once saved the Duke's life. I know he holds me in 
friendship. I am the messenger Balan."

	"Is it really you, Balan!" said one of the knights who 
surrounded him. "I am Duke Naimon. In the name of God, let no 
one touch this man! Never has anyone done me a greater service. 
As for you, Balan, do you really want to become a Christian?"

	"Henceforth, Sire, I am of your faith and your law."

	However, Charlemagne does not care about the vassal he 
has just brought down at his feet. He rides to the bottom of the 
valley in pursuit of Aumont. God protect our great emperor!

CHAPTER 21 - DEATH OF AUMONT

Yesterday morning the sun rose on an army of countless Saracens
and Aumont, its leader, was filled with boundless hope. And today
all his warriors are dead or in flight. He himself goes off alone, 
without a single squire. He descends along a rocky path. At the 
bottom of a valley, under an olive tree, a clear spring flows over 
fine sand.

	He has been fighting without respite for three days and 
has had no time to eat or drink. The purity and freshness of the 
waves tempt him. He lays down his good shield, his sword, and 
his lance. He unlaces his helm and, leaving his horse a few paces 
away, he bends down and drinks heartily. At this very moment 
Charlemagne arrives. Aumont has no time either to get back in 
the saddle or to take up his arms again.

	"Pagan," said Charles, "do not trouble yourself with fear. 
By my head, no one can ever reproach me for taking someone by 
surprise and causing embarrassment. Now arm yourself and get 
back on your steed. I want to dispute the spring, it is mine. Woe 
to you for having drawn water from it, you will pay dearly for it."

	Aumont hears him. He is filled with joy when he is allowed
to prepare for battle. In an instant he is on horseback. "By 
Mahomet," he said, "you do not appear to me as the son of a 
peasant. You have a splendid courser, a good hauberk of triple 
mail, and a marvelous helm. You are of a noble race, no doubt, 
and of noble heart, since you did not wish to touch me when I 
was unarmed. Come, surrender and deny your God and, by Mahomet, I 
swear you will be able to leave safe and sound, and I will reward 
you as well as all your bloodline. But tell me your name?"

	And our emperor replies, "I will not tell a lie to a 
heathen. Charlemagne is my name. France belongs to me. Manceaux, 
Bretons, Normans, Picards, Lorrainers, Germans, Frisians, 
Bavarians, and all the peoples from here to Rome recognize me 
as their master. And I chased you because I want to defy you."

	"Ah," said Aumont, "then you are this Charlemagne who 
has robbed me of so many thousands of my warriors, so many of 
my rich kings and noble princes. I have you now and your death 
will avenge me for all the losses you have inflicted on me. It is 
I who at the moment defies you. Against you I claim Calabria, 
Romagna, Lorraine, Bavaria, Germany and all the lands from here
to Spain."

	"Certainly," said Charles, "to win such an empire a simple 
challenge is not enough. A truce to words and let us come to 
actions. Who will complain when the battle is over! It is the 
inheritance entrusted to me by God that I claim against you. 
From God alone I hold it and will keep it."

	Aumont responds, "I defy you, you and your God."

	They rush with fury, one against the other. Both fall and 
their helms are covered with soil up to the nasal. Aumont 
brandishes Durendal and Charlemagne pulls Joyeuse from its 
scabbard. They fight like giants. As far as the clouds fly and the 
sky stretches there are no kings equal to them. One is master of 
all the Orient, the other of all the Occident.

	"Charlemagne," said Aumont, "listen to me. Do you want to
be my vassal and give me the homage of France? Do you want to 
believe in my God Tervagant?"

	"Never," replies Charlemagne, "as long as I am alive."

	Aumont sees that his blows are in vain and that his blood 
is beginning to flow, so he has little desire to laugh. He recoils and
condemns his sword with reproaches. "Hey, Durendal!" he said, 
"Have you been badly forged? Until now I have given you great glory. 
No one has ever been able to survive your blows. But how soft 
and inert are you today! You do not cut any more than an old ax."

	Suddenly, he notices the helm of Charles. He sees shining 
there precious stones which date back to the time of Jeremiah. 
"By Mahomet!" cries Aumont, "He who gave you these gems had 
a love for you without equal. The mortal who wears them is 
invincibly protected, but you will not keep them for long."

	And Charles replies, "If it pleases God, they will never 
leave me!"

	But Aumont, enraged by his wounds, strikes the marvelous 
helm on Charlemagne's head with a blow more violent than any 
before. Charles, desperate, will perish under the blows of the 
fierce pagan. He raises his gaze to God. "Lord," he said, "you 
who are and have always been, protect me against this miscreant! 
With my death, all of France is defeated. And my men, where are 
they? What has become of them?" 

	Suddenly Charlemagne hears shouting, "Sire uncle, here is 
your nephew Roland!"

	"Ah, God," said Charles, "thank you for the succor you send 
me!"

	Roland is mounted on Morel. He had taken it from Duke 
Naimon to fly faster to our great Emperor. Without waiting a 
moment, he hits Aumont with his stake, who twice falls on his 
knees.

	The valiant Saracen straightens up. "Charles, you are not 
alone. Brave, bold, and vigorous is your young companion. The 
devils have given him marvelous virtue. Surely, if he lives, he will 
become a great knight. If it is true that today is my last day, I pray 
to Mahomet, my glorious god, that Durendal will remain in his 
hands forever, for it would be a cause of deep distress and deep 
anger for me if this noble sword should fall into the hands of a 
caitiff and a coward, devoid of warlike passion. But what is the 
use of speaking thus since both of you are going to perish 
without delay? Your God will not help you. If seven men would 
fight against me alone, they would not escape me any more than 
a lamb would escape four wolves."

	However, with a last effort Roland struck Aumont on the 
arm. He sends Durendal flying the length on a lance away, and he 
strikes such a blow on the front of the helm that the valiant pagan
falls one last time, his brains spurting from his forehead.

	At this moment the French lords arrive and wipe Charles' 
face, which is streaming with blood. Beneath a leafy olive tree 
they carry Aumont, whose body they lay face down. "Certainly," 
said Naimon, "he was a powerful knight. If he had been baptized, 
in all of Christendom he would have had no equal."

	Charlemagne returns to the camp. Seeing him safe and 
sound, everyone weeps with joy. The French lodged in the camp 
which only yesterday was that of Aumont. Around it are piled up 
cadavers and mourning. But what joy for those who survived! 
Anyone who had no shoes on their feet yesterday now has a 
marvelous horse. Christendom is saved and Roland has conquered 
Durendal, the noble sword, the marvelous Olifant, and Veillantif, 
the swift steed.

---

PART TWO: THE BATTLE AGAINST AGOLANT

CHAPTER 1 - THE PUNISHMENT OF MAARGON AND ESPERRANT

Agolant is in his grand palace in Rise with the Great Emir, 
powerful among all the Saracen chiefs, uncle of King Maargon 
and King Esperrant. King Boïdant and King Moadas, who brought 
from Africa the largest armies that have ever been seen, come to 
greet him. He feels filled with joy and happiness and he begins to 
play chess with King Abilant. The two kings converse happily and
indulge in jokes.

	Suddenly King Maargon and King Esperrant appear. 
"Welcome!" said Agolant to his two vassals.

	They return his greeting and Esperrant exclaims, "Sire, we
are defeated. Your son did battle with Charlemagne. Your gods 
and your standard are taken. Not a single man from our immense 
army remains alive and free."

	"And Aumont?"

	"We have not seen him!"

	"Felon!" said Agolant, and with a furious hand he threw a 
javelin which missed Esperrant and struck a pillar. The blow is so 
violent that the stones crumble. "Felon!" said Agolant, "No one 
will ever believe that a baptized man defeated or conquered my 
son."

	"Sire," continues Maargon, "King Esperrant told you the 
truth."

	"No, he lied and so did you," exclaims Agolant, who has no 
desire to laugh, and he continues, "Barons, let the twenty most 
powerful among you gather! Let them judge these two men and 
let me be informed of the fate to which they will be condemned!"

	The pagans obey. In the room where they went, the twenty
most powerful of the Saracen kings have a bitter dispute. Some, 
the relatives of the two accused, among whom the Great Emir 
stands out, defend King Maargon and King Esperrant with fiery 
words. The others demand death and defy anyone who wants to 
delay the execution of the two traitors.

	Finally King Ulien walks out with King Mandaquin. They 
both go to King Agolant, still filled with anger and bitterness. 
"Make the two traitors die," says Ulien. "When Aumont finds out, 
he can only praise your decision."

	The king enters the great hall. He speaks in a loud and 
clear voice. "So," he said, "you give me the lives of these two 
men?"

	"Yes, sir!"

	Then Agolant said in a firm voice, "Let each of the traitors 
be tied to two mules. Let them be dragged on the hard stones 
while the whole city watches. Thus should traitors be punished. 
It will be a good example to their families. It would be doing too 
much honor to these two crooks to hang them on a gibbet."

	Then the two traitors come before the king. "What have 
you done with my child?" he asks them. "Can you tell me what 
has become of him?"

	"No, Sire," they answer. "A little old man on a horse led the 
Christians. We have never seen a leader and knights that were 
stronger and bolder. None of our warriors have returned and of 
your son we know little or nothing."

	"By Mahomet!" exclaims Agolant, "It would be madness to 
ask you for more. Barons, let it be done with these men as I have 
said."

	They tie Esperrant to two rounceys and when Maargon 
sees that they are going to treat him in the same way he has little 
desire to joke about it. The soldiers mount the animals which 
they strike with redoubled blows. The flesh is tender and the 
stones are sharp. The two kings bleed and their limbs are torn to 
tatters. Harlots pick up the bloody remains of the two bodies, 
they lead a great celebration, they fight to outdo each other, and 
those who are at the back want to be in the front. They are still 
active when the sun sets. Finally, the two corpses are thrown into 
the garbage pit where Greek Fire reduces them to gray ashes.

	The Africans say among themselves in low voices, "Here 
are two people to whom Aumont has brought bad luck!" 

	And the Great Emir murmurs, "One day, may our god 
Mahomet allow me to avenge my noble nephews for the vile 
torture that has just been inflicted on them!"

CHAPTER 2 - BAPTISM OF BALAN

Charlemagne is in Aumont's tent. There is nothing like it under 
heaven. The fabric is silk brocaded with gold and a carbuncle 
shines in the ball at the top of the tent pole. The carbuncle casts a 
marvelous brilliance, it allows one to see for a hundred leagues 
around it at midnight as in broad daylight, to sit down at dinner, 
to play chess and tables without the need to light a twisted wax 
candle, and during the day it reflects the image of everything that 
happens around it.

	A thousand knights are with Charlemagne. They all fit 
comfortably in this immense tent. They contemplate the gold, the 
silver, the striped silk coats of different colors, the ancient 
dishes and those of the latest fashion, the sharp lances, the honed 
swords, and the pointed spears, treasures which they have 
captured with their blood. They rejoice in the abundance of 
provisions they find, which will revive their vigor and restore 
their joy.

	Charlemagne did not delay. In the presence of four 
archbishops, not counting the rest of the clergy, he had Balan 
baptized by Pope Milo. He plunges the valiant messenger in the 
water, naked up to his belt, three times and then they put his 
clothes on him and lace up his great coat. Henceforth his name is 
Guitequin, and in the whole army one cannot find a knight who 
equals him in strength, in size, and in skill in riding.

	"Charles," said Guitequin, "if I hid anything from you now, I
would commit a felony towards you. King, look under the dragon,
in the carbuncle. See all these boats, all these ships, and all these 
canoes in the strait. See over there the tower of Rise and the keep
of the castle. This morning three hundred thousand Saracens left 
their camp and they come to attack us. Decide what we must do, 
shall we wait or flee?"

	"Certainly," said Charles, "why lie? I did not come to 
Aspremont to flee." The king looks in the mirror and he sees the 
army of Agolant crossing the Far. Tears flow from the eyes in his 
head and he orders the pope to summon the old Duke Girard 
immediately.

	He comes running. In the carbuncle Guitequin shows him 
the army of the Saracens marching on the shore, near a wood of 
firs and beeches, and the innumerable tents of the enemy kings. 
He fixes his gaze on the tent of Mandaquin where the purple 
gonfanon decorated with three pine cones flaps in the wind.

	Duke Girard quickly realized the danger. "Sire," he said to 
Charlemagne, "gather your squires, dub as knights those who can
bear arms, wear hauberks, and endure a painful campaign. And 
when we are returned to France, God willing, you will grant them 
rich fiefs. As for me, I will join my army and act there as I counsel 
you to act here. I will send you my sons. You will distribute arms 
to them which they will bring back to my men."

CHAPTER 3 - DUBBING OF THE YOUNG KNIGHTS

	God! What joy among the children when they hear the 
four heralds announcing that Charlemagne wants them to be 
knighted. How they all hurry! How they fly at the call of the great 
emperor! There are three hundred and thirty-seven young boys 
there, sons of dukes and counts and peers. Thinking of their 
youth, the Emperor shudders at the destiny that threatens them. 
He suffers as much as if he had had to cut off all their heads. He 
no longer has the strength to stand on his own two feet. He will 
lean against his bed.

	Meanwhile, three hundred thirty-seven swords are 
brought. There is one that must be girded on the noblest of the 
knights. Charlemagne gives it to Roland. The Pope immediately 
blessed it and Charlemagne said to Roland softly, smiling, "I gird 
you with this sword, Durendal. May God give you valor and 
courage, and may he grant that you win great victories with it 
over the Saracen race!" 

	And Roland exclaims, his heart full of joy, "May God let it 
be so!"

	Charlemagne has girded the sword at Roland's side and 
now Duke Naimon puts the spur on his right foot and the good 
Ogier the Dane on his left foot. But everyone smiles when they 
see the great pains Roland takes in his zeal to put on his coat and 
tighten the buckles of his belt.

	Finally, after having girded the three hundred thirty-seven
swords on the left side of the three hundred thirty-seven knights, 
Charlemagne entrusts Ogier to watch over Roland. Then Pope 
Milo blessed the place of the assembly. He had a chapel erected 
there, sang the mass himself, and he received offerings for the 
holy place. Even four of the strongest mules of Aragon could not 
have carried the offerings, they are so numerous.

	The pope invokes the help of God against the Saracens. He 
raises the holy cross which contains a piece of wood to which 
Jesus was nailed. All kneel to receive the divine blessing, then 
they get up and run for their arms and armor.

	Charlemagne rides on a horse whiter than apple blossoms.
Without wasting time, he ordered them to prepare for battle and 
then the sons of Duke Girard of Fraite take leave of him. They 
hasten to carry the arms, which our noble emperor has provided 
them with, to the valiant Burgundian knights.

CHAPTER 4 - THE TRIBUTE OF CHARLEMAGNE TO AGOLANT

	Charlemagne exhorts his armies. He goes from one knight 
to the next. He stops before Ogier the Dane who is in the front 
rank. "Ogier," he said to him, "give me your word to watch over 
Roland. He is so young and I love no one in the world as much as 
him."

	"At your will, Sire," said Ogier, "but hear what Roland 
wants. He asks you for the privilege of striking the first blow."

	"I grant it, and I entrust the custody of my nephew to God 
and to you." So saying, with a sign of the cross, Charles blessed 
Ogier.

	At this moment he sees two knights walking along the 
ranks of the army. One is mounted on an African mule. He has 
silk stockings, leather shoes from Córdoba, and spurs of gold. He 
wears two rings in his ears, his beard is white, and his face 
radiates beauty. The other is on a russet horse. He has a good 
clavain, a green helm, a large sharp sword, a lance made of 
applewood, and a banner that flutters in the wind. He holds 
himself in the saddle wonderfully. No lady under heaven could 
resist his charm. The two knights hold an olive branch, the sign 
of messengers. The first stops in front of the army. "Knight," he 
says, to the one who is far ahead of the other Frenchmen on his 
horse, "will you show me the powerful Charlemagne? I do not 
know him."

	"Look no further. You are talking to him."

	"I easily believe it. Now know this, I am King Galindre and 
my companion is the valiant King Ulien. I address you with no 
greeting, because I have no love for you. We are both messengers 
of the great Agolant. Listen to his orders, which I read to you: 
'Charlemagne, immediately give back the four gods, deliver your 
treasures to me, and help your men to load them on one thousand
seven hundred mules. In addition, give me one thousand seven 
hundred maidens, truly virgins, whom I will take to Africa to 
hand over to my men. And you, Charlemagne, come barefoot, 
dressed in a woolen shirt, and bearing your crown in your hand. 
You will kneel before me and lay your crown at my feet. If you
promise my messengers to deny God and your faith, and to worship 
Mahomet, I will see if there is a way to place your crown on your 
head again, which henceforth, in all ways, you will have from me.'"

	"Ah, God," said Charles, "how I am thus hindered! Going on
foot is very painful for me. The gold and the silver that you ask of 
me, I will not have any left when I will make a present of it to 
those who had the courage to win it. As for maidens, it is such a 
rare object that no one in the world could procure it. And lastly, 
the four gods have neither head nor shoulders left. Go find our 
harlots and ask them what state they put them in the other day."

	At these words Galindre assumes a wrathful appearance. 
In his hand he squeezes and brandishes the olive branch. Ulien 
frowns and stands up in his stirrups, extending the strap at the 
risk of breaking it. After Galindre, it is Ulien's turn to threaten 
Charlemagne. "If you do not deliver the tribute demanded of you 
by the mighty Agolant," cries Ulien, "this is what will happen. I 
will challenge the best of your men to prove against me that your 
religion prevails over mine. Know also that Agolant sends two 
hundred sixty thousand men against you, that is to say his whole 
army, except that which he leaves near the shore to guard our 
treasures and our ships. He will take you straight to Rome, where 
he will make his son Aumont king. He will crown him with your 
own crown, and you will receive martyrdom from his hands."

	Charlemagne answers, "I will retire with the Pope, Duke 
Naimon, Duke Ogier, Duke Girard, King Salomon, and some other 
lords. We will consult together on the answer to give you for your
king."

	After a long wait, the messengers approach Charlemagne. 
"Are you having the requested tribute loaded?" they asked him in 
a tone of mischief.

	"On the counsel of the noble Duke Girard of Fraite, I am 
preparing one for you which will not displease you. Although 
here are my vassals who bring it. You recognize it, lord 
messengers, it is the head, the right arm, and the right hand of 
Aumont."

	From his right hand, Ulien removes his glove. He sticks his 
strong lance in the ground with the sharp iron and he exclaims, "I 
challenge the most valiant of all the Christians here to single 
combat. If I slay him, all of you will believe in Mahomet and in 
Tervagant. If I die under the blows of your champion, all the 
Saracens will renounce their faith for that of Jesus."

	"Friend," said Charles, "temper your ardor. Warn Agolant 
that his son had the fate he deserved and that into the hands of 
my young nephew Roland now have fallen his ivory horn, his 
horse Veillantif, and his good sword Durendal. Finally tell your 
king that, before sunset, God will have decided the fate of this 
land."

CHAPTER 5 - DESPAIR AND LAMENTATIONS OF KING AGOLANT

	Galindre and Ulien depart in great haste. With cries of 
joy the Saracen kings greet their return. King Mandaquin said to 
them, "Welcome, you messengers! Do you bring us back our four 
gods, our one thousand seven hundred mules laden with gold, 
and the one thousand seven hundred maidens? And the proud 
Charlemagne, what does he say?"

	Acart of Flors exclaims, "Welcome, you messengers! Have 
the Christians denied their God? Have they joined our faith?"

	King Canidès emerges from a thicket. "May Mahomet bless
you, messengers! Are you going to send us good news?"

	King Eliadas and King Pantalis come forward smiling. 
"Welcome, messengers! Does the tribute of proud-faced 
Charlemagne come at last? And his one thousand seven hundred 
mules laden with gold and his one thousand seven hundred 
absolutely virgin maidens?"

	And to each of them Galindre and Ulien recount the 
ignoble end of their gods and the death of Aumont, and they 
show what they bring as tribute. The pagans look defeated and 
they whisper to each other, "Alas! Unhappy sinners, what will 
become of us? We have lost Mahomet, Tervagant, Apolin, and the 
great Jupiter. Aumont the brave is dead. Dishonor to whom 
henceforth would want to fight!"

	The messengers spur their coursers. They finally reach 
the standard around which are gathered Agolant and the most 
powerful of his vassals, King Abilant, King Boïdant, King 
Maladïen, the young Moadas and the Great Emir, the uncle of 
Esperrant and Maargon, those two traitors who formerly, by the 
order of Agolant, had been slain in such shame.

	"Well," said Moadas, "are you bringing us this tribute, 
then?"

	"Alas!" replies Galindre, "We have been running without 
stopping for five leagues. Along the way, we encountered the 
corpses of more than five thousand of our own who lie on their 
backs, lifeless, and their faces blue with death. As for the tribute 
that Charlemagne sends us, here it is. Oh Sire, look at this ring!"

	Agolant sees the head of Aumont and his eyes which, 
having come out of their sockets, had slipped on the cheeks. He 
recognizes the gold ring he had given his son, after having worn it
himself for so long. He falls helplessly on his shield. The pagans 
support him and when he comes to himself, "And our gods?" he 
asks. When he learns of the ignoble fate they have suffered, his 
heart breaks.

	His eyes then return to the head of his son. "My child," he 
said in a weak voice, "how my heart aches! This face once so clear,
so colorful, so beautiful, and now black as ink, is it yours? Ah! my 
son, it is for you that I came to attempt this conquest! I had 
crowned you king and, as soon as you were crowned, you 
associated yourself with my worst enemies. You made Hector 
your gonfalonier, Hector who wanted to drive me out of my land 
to occupy it and who certainly now no longer dreams of 
conquering Africa! It is with good reason that he died first. And 
all your followers are dead as well as you!" Agolant has the head 
of Aumont removed from his steel helm and he kisses it and 
presses it against his chest. The blood of the son moistens the 
mouth of the father.

	The Africans are distraught, the most valiant do not know
what hope they can rally around now. Between them they begin 
to whisper softly, "Or defender is dead. Our gods are lost. Ah! 
Why did we not stay in our Africa!"

CHAPTER 6 - POPE MILO AND THE HOLY CROSS

The army of Charlemagne is ready to fight. At the top of a hill 
stops the first rank of which Ogier is the gonfalonier. There is 
Roland with all those Charlemagne has given him to command. 
And the Pope, who is also there, calls for a knight. "Erengi," he 
said, "I have brought a large piece of the wood where God was 
tied when Longinus struck him. I will entrust it to you."

	And Erengi answers: "I hear strange words! What! With 
this hauberk, this burnished helm, this solid shield, this swift 
Arab steed, I would not raise my lance and I would not strike at 
the enemy shields? No, I do not then accept your offer."

	And the pope exclaims, "So you refuse me your service?"

	"Even so, Sire. In this hour and in this place it cannot be 
otherwise."

	And the pope calls, "Isoré, you who are of high nobility, 
see this wood of the holy cross. I will deliver it to you."

	And he replies, "You are in too much of a hurry to give me 
such a present. Why did I mount this destrier if not to spur it on 
and launch myself with it against the Saracens? Please, leave me 
the weapons to which I am accustomed."

	But here is an archbishop who is about to speak. He 
mounts a strong and fast horse to ride. He shows a well held leg, 
a molded foot, to which the spurs sit marvelously. He has a broad 
thigh, a big square knee, a long torso, a high neck, and broad 
shoulders. In all the army there is no priest with a more beautiful 
face or more noble appearance.

	"Sire," he said, "if you entrust this holy treasure to me, it 
would in no way encumber me."

	"Friend, who are you? Where were you born?"

	"I come from beyond the mountains, from the kingdom of 
France. In the holy place of Jumièges, near Rouen in Normandy, I 
was a monk for ten years. I almost became an abbot there, but I 
left this place for Reims where I was blessed, and it was you who 
consecrated me archbishop."

	"What is your name? Do not dare to hide your name from 
me."

	"By my faith, Sire, my name is Turpin."

	"And you want to be our gonfalonier?"

	"If you let me join Roland and Duke Ogier with the 
thousand men that I brought yesterday to fight the pagans, if you 
promise me that, when I return to France, I can put on the 
hauberk, lace up the helm and fight those who attack my lord, if 
you also grant me that in time to come I will have permission, 
once my service at the Monastery is over, to put on my armor 
again, then I agree to become your gonfalonier. Otherwise, find 
someone else!"

	"There are many conditions," replies Pope Milo, "but the 
Saracens are approaching. Already the sound of their horns, their
music, and their drums reaches our ears. We do not have the 
leisure to delay any longer." So saying, Pope Milo presents the 
Holy Cross to Turpin.

	The Archbishop gently jumps out of the saddle to kiss the 
Pope's right foot and Pope Milo blesses Archbishop Turpin. In his 
turn, Ogier dismounts. The other knights do the same, and all 
bow together in adoration of the cross. Tears rise from their 
hearts to their eyes and Ogier says, "Roland, I give you my word. 
If Agolant is waiting for us, he is a dead man."

CHAPTER 7 - SAINT GEORGE, SAINT DOMINIC, AND SAINT MERCURIUS

Ogier and his companions are mounted on horseback and they 
are on the road again. Suddenly, three knights descend from the 
top of a mountain. Their armor and their coursers are dazzlingly 
white. They pass along the echelons, they say no word to anyone 
and no one asks them a question. Little by little they reach the 
first ranks of the army.

	Seeing them arrive, Ogier cries out to them in a loud and 
clear voice, "What are your names, vassals of the white coursers? 
Stop, do not go any further. I do not know you, that is why I would
like to find out who you are."

	One of the three knights replies, "Temper your ardor. They
call me George. With my companions, Saint Demetrius and Saint 
Mercurius, I descended from the celestial abode to bring aid to 
the Christian army. I have always had the right to strike the first 
blow against the enemy, but today I relinquish this privilege to 
young Roland."

	"Saint George," answers Ogier, "to yourself and to God I 
entrust the life of young Roland."

	However, the Saracens are approaching. Their leader 
Mandaquin, mounted on a fast horse, rushes out against Roland. 
Saint George then takes Charlemagne's nephew by the hand. "Do 
not be afraid," he said. "The size of the pagan must not upset you. 
From today on, let 'Saint George!' be your battle cry. Yours is the 
honor of striking the first blow!"

	"Sire," said Roland, "'Saint George!' will be my battle cry 
and from now on I will strike the first blow." On this, full of 
enthusiasm and fury, he rushes on Mandaquin. But young Roland 
is small, and Mandaquin is a giant. Of the helm Roland can only 
cut what is within his reach and the blade only penetrates under 
the saddle of the Saracen.

	To Roland's aid come Saint George, his faithful Demetrius, 
and Saint Mercurius. They are followed by Naimon and Ogier, 
distraught to see Roland in such peril. Ogier hits Mandaquin with 
such a vigorous blow that he slices his body into two equal halves.
Under the sword of Roland the Saracens fall like thick grass 
under the sharp blade of the scythe.

	Distraught, the pagans fled in all directions and whispered
to each other, "Cursed be this stinking dwarf who has just put our
great Mandaquin to death! But you, Mahomet, you really slumber
in too profound a sleep. Why do you not bring us more succor?"

	They flee, and the cross held by Turpin casts a marvelous 
glow over the entire battlefield. It makes the spears, gold 
brocaded shields, hauberks, broignes, and helms of the Christians
sparkle. It spreads its luminous rays on the bodies of the pagans 
who fight naked, on their corpses which pile up, on their 
scattered limbs, heads, shoulders, and torsos which cover the 
plains and moors.

	On all sides the Christians pursue the pagans. Here Claron,
son of Duke Girard, follows in the tracks of the valiant King Jafer 
and separates his soul from his body. 

	There Ulien tries to hold back the frightened fugitives. 
"Sons of whores," he shouts, "are you not ashamed? Agolant has 
showered you with gifts and honors, and this is how you redeem 
yourselves! What will become of me? I thought I was already 
master of France and I hoped to impose the law of disgrace on 
the Christians! By your cowardice will I also, like a coward, be 
dragged into flight myself!" He says and sits up on his courser. He 
rides against the Christians, and, brandishing his lance of a very 
hard wood, which the pagans call agarwood, he struck Gautier of 
Saint-Omer with it. He falls dead, his heart pierced with sharp 
iron. Claron sees the valiant knight drop his arms and fall from 
his courser. He heaves a deep sigh. If King Ulien had believed in 
our Lord, neither Oliver nor Roland would have equaled him.

	But here comes Bovon. He launches forward against the 
hardy pagan who decides to flee. The pagans fall so well by the 
thousands, but others appear immediately, so many armies of the
cursed race there are.

	The proud Acart of Flors rallied his men. "Barons," he 
cried, "against two of the Christians you are a hundred. Kill them 
all! If a single one escapes, know it well, I will never again in my 
life be happy."

	Meanwhile, near there, close together and noiselessly, the 
Angevins, the Manceaux, and the Bretons are riding. They are all
led by the strong king Salomon and by Huon, count of Le Mans. 
This one advances with five hundred of his companions. "Montjoie!" 
he shouts. "Let us go and attack the pagans and strike them so 
that none of their armor holds before our blows." He does so much 
and so fast that in a few moments he has joined Ogier.

	Acart of Flors saw the ranks of the Christian army swell. 
"Ah!" he cried, "our four gods are not worth a denier. They were 
taken by the Christians who left them neither head, nor arms, nor
legs. It is the cross of this Jesus that Christians adore. It 
obscures our sight, it possesses a virtue such that we cannot 
approach it. By Mahomet, it is impossible for us to stay in this 
place any longer!" He flees without another word, and Huon pursues 
him. Salomon, the valiant king of Brittany, joins ours in the 
struggle and all together drive back the pagans.

	But new enemies are not long in appearing. They are the 
Orcanians, a race of pagans who fight completely naked. For the 
best armor in the world they would not give the value of a clove 
of garlic and for a good destrier not even the value of a rotten 
apple. At the sight of ours they utter wild cries, launch arrows, 
javelins, and darts, and in a few moments they have slaughtered 
three hundred of our horses. But God watches over the Christians
whose marvelous rays the Holy Cross continues to illuminate.

CHAPTER 8 - THE VENGEANCE OF THE GREAT EMIR

Richer, Huon, Duke Ogier, Count Sanson, and King Salomon strike 
with their lances and their swords. From his side, Roland rides 
into the fray, dealing heavy blows to the Saracens.

	"Sire Roland," said Ogier, "you know how to put your arms 
to good use. I was told the other day, moreover, that you would 
soon become a good knight. You have now proven yourself, but 
however valiant you are, you must not stray from me, especially 
since you are still very young in this profession."

	And Roland replies, "If success accompanies my exploits, 
you will be rewarded well for your devotion." And Roland calls his
three companions, Estolt of Langres, Haton, and Bérenger.

	They are joined by a young damoiseau whose name was 
Graelant. He was born in Brittany, a relative of King Salomon, he 
lived with Charles who had brought him up from his earliest 
childhood. Under heaven, no trouvère ever knew how to play the 
vielle or sing songs better than him. It was he who composed the 
first Breton lay. He charmed the great emperor in his leisure with 
his great talents. He had never been separated from him since the
day when he was knighted.

	Roland addresses himself to Graelant, "Do you see this 
vermilion gonfanon? It is the insignia of Canidès, the treacherous 
chief of the Orcanians. If we tried to cross the ranks of this troop, 
either we would kill all these miscreants, or we would remain on 
the field of battle."

	And Graelant answers, "Let us try then, they are all armed 
like poor varlets, and they will hardly be able to resist us. If we 
perish, it will be a great joy for us. We will be lodged up there 
with the saints. And what an honor if we escape!"

	"Certainly," said Roland, "you are the son of a baron. No 
one can play the vielle better than you. No one has more courage 
than you."

	To the cry of "Montjoie!" Roland and Graelant set off, 
followed by their three other companions. With his lance 
Graelant breaks the spine of Canidès and with his sword he 
finishes the fierce king of the Orcanians. Roland kills Acart of 
Flors who falls dead at the foot of his steed. Then he throws 
himself into the melee, still followed by his four companions. 
More than sixty Saracens fall. The five young knights continue 
their massacre and their pursuit.

	Suddenly, Ogier becomes aware that Roland is no longer 
there. He called his friend Huon. "Sire Count," he said to him, "we 
have arrived at a bad point. The nephew of Charlemagne whom 
our Emperor had entrusted to my care yesterday morning and 
whom I had sworn to defend at the risk of my life, I do not know 
what has become of him. Look at these knights fighting in front of
us. Surely Roland is among them. Indeed, I recognize him by this 
pointed helm. Sir Count, come with me to his succor."

	How the two of them strike, Ogier and Huon! How many 
enemies they overthrow from their coursers! Ogier approaches 
Roland. "Roland," he said, "I finally found you. You did not obey 
me, you moved away from me. God, it is true, allowed me to find 
you and to return you safe and sound to our Emperor 
Charlemagne. But you would deserve that from now on I only 
concern myself with watching over my own safeguard."

	Roland is quiet and keeps his silence, he answers Ogier's 
reproaches with no word, no sound. Within hours, Roland, Ogier, 
Graelant, Estolt, Haton, and Bérenger defeated four of the 
Saracen echelons.

	Charlemagne himself enters the melee. However, his horse
is soon struck dead under him. With Joyeuse he defends himself, 
and those he strikes with his terrible sword will no longer dream 
of raising their arms against any Christian. The valiant Bérenger 
flies to the aid of Charles. He kills a powerful king of the pagans, 
Gaudafle the Aged. He gives his own courser to Charlemagne and 
he gets in the saddle of the destrier whose master he has slain.

	At this moment, the Great Emir feels that the battle is lost 
for the pagans. He calls his sons. "You remember," he said to them,
"your cousins, King Maargon and King Esperrant, whom Agolant 
put to death in a shameful manner. I have always hoped to avenge
them. Here at last the time has come. If I let it escape, all my 
possessions I shall no longer value as a glove. Blow your horn 
four times. You and your people, follow me. Agolant will go 
against Charlemagne, if he pleases, to measure himself. What may
happen to him, I care as much as a branch of whitebeam. You and 
I, we are still young, let us return to reign in Africa for a long time 
as masters."

	Joyfully, the sons exclaim, "Here is a fortune that we like to 
try." And all follow their leader. It is to Rise that he leads them. He 
had the boats loaded with all he could carry of the treasures of 
Agolant, deposited in the great tower of the castle, treasures of 
such considerable value that, to transport the crockery alone, it 
took no less than thirty-one cartloads. But the Great Emir is 
forced to leave countless riches behind.

	By axe, spears, and arrows he kills most of those who 
lodged there. Only Queen Aufélise, wife of Agolant, escaped the 
massacre, together with thirty other queens, forty maidens of 
their retinue, and a hundred Christians, each with his wife. The 
cruel Saracen cannot slay them because evening is falling and he 
must leave without delay, he only has time to lock them up in the 
big tower, counting on starvation to complete his work. Flames 
devour the ships he has not used, and with his sons, his army, and
all that he has been able to snatch from the treasure of Agolant, 
there he is, sailing towards Africa with full sails.

CHAPTER 9 - UP TO THE STANDARD OF KING AGOLANT!

Meanwhile, Charlemagne exhorts his knights and Pope Milo 
encourages the Christians to sell their lives dearly. "If our bodies 
must be emptied of their souls," he cried, "may God grant me the 
same fate as you all! We will go together to find shelter with God 
in heaven. In front of paradise, the gatekeeper you find will be 
none other than me." 

	Then Turpin, the Archbishop of Reims, approached Pope 
Milo. "Sire," he said, "I do not want to cause you any trouble. Let 
me give you back the Holy Cross. I have a good hauberk and a 
vigorous courser, I have a valiant sword and a clear helm of steel, 
I am an archbishop, but I am also a knight. I will show you how 
well I can fight."

	"May God grant us his grace!" replies the pope. "What you 
ask I grant you, because I cannot do otherwise. Give me the holy 
cross. I will carry it now!"

	To cries of "Saint-Malo! Sainte-Croix! Forward! Montjoie!" 
the whole army rushes on the left flank of the Saracens, who flee 
towards the camp where Agolant has planted his Oriflamme.

	Girard, the valiant Duke of Fraite, dispatched at this 
moment three thousand of his best and boldest knights towards 
the same place. These entrust their horses to their companions. 
With slow steps, in deep silence, they advance on foot, tilting 
their helms under their shields which conceal them. Suddenly, 
the pagans see them and cry out, "Who are these? When we finish
the Christians who are in front of us, those who have just 
appeared in the back are sure to crush us." They lose all hope, the 
boldest turn into cowards, and with their weapons the pagan 
chiefs kill some of their own warriors so that the example may 
serve as a lesson to the others. Nothing can stop their flight.

	Charlemagne then stops. He calls to his side his seneschal 
Fagon, Ogier and Naimon, Huon and Richer, King Droon, King 
Salomon and the valiant Cahoer, King of the English. "Have my 
tent pitched here," he commanded, "and let my royal Oriflamme 
float on its summit! Let the French make camp all around!"

	Then he summons Estolt, Graelant, Roland, Naimon, Ogier,
Salomon, Fagon, Haton, Bérenger and a thousand young knights, 
the oldest of whom does not yet have a beard on his chin. "Let 
those of you who have no coursers take some without delay! 
Make haste, all of you, to reinforce the army of Girard, the 
bravest duke who ever wore spurs."

	Preceded by the three saints who have assumed the form 
of knights, the Christian army drives back the fugitives. 
Irresistibly, among the dead and the cries of the dying, they move 
towards the camp where the standard of the great Saracen king 
floats. And in their march they are guided by the miraculous rays
of the holy cross.

CHAPTER 10 - DEATH OF KING AGOLANT

Agolant and twelve of his kings, all of whom wear crowns, stand 
around the standard on which a dragon is embroidered. Suddenly
they see the wounded arrive and the deserters who run to take 
refuge near them. Anxious for news, Agolant asks one and 
another, "Where are your leaders? Where is my nephew 
Mandaquin, and Jafer, and Canidès, the valiant king of the 
Orcanians, and Acart of Flors, and Eliadas, the son of King Fanis, 
and Gaudafle the hoary, and Matefélon?"

	"They all remain on the battlefield. Ah, they are formidable
warriors, those of Charlemagne! A hundred of ours are not worth 
one of them. And against the God they worship our gods are 
powerless. While Mahomet remains asleep, the God of the 
Christians watches. He fights with them. Rays of light dim the 
brilliance of the sun, blind and dazzle us, and flood the camp."

	"What are you saying, felons?"

	"Sire, we are defeated. Ah, how right your messenger 
Balan was! You will soon see the rest of your army diminished by 
four hundred thousand Christians. For us, only a quick flight will 
perhaps offer us salvation."

	These words had hardly been said when the four hundred 
thousand French arrived, mounted on their swift coursers, 
dressed in their hauberks, their broignes, their brilliant steel 
helmets, holding in their hands straight lances and sharp swords.
The Africans do not even wait for them, each one trying to 
abandon the camp faster than the others, fathers do not even 
care about their sons. In his turn Ulien falls, struck to death. His 
standard is thrown down, the dragon face down against the earth.

	In Agolant there is nothing but anger and despair. "Ah," he 
exclaims, "I am going to become a miserable man! I, who thought 
I was seizing all of France, must now think of defending my life. 
Come, Saracens, let us strike well! Better to perish in battle with 
my men than to flee vanquished!"

	Girard, the valiant Duke of Fraite, then set off with his sons
and the knights sent to him by Charlemagne.

	Agolant has his horse killed under him. Like a man full of 
fury, he draws his sword and makes heads fly. The pagans cannot 
provide him with another courser, but they do not cease giving 
him weapons upon weapons which in turn he smashes on his 
adversaries. Finally, they hastily make him a great axe, the handle 
is of applewood, and rings of gold hold the iron firmly fixed. 
There is no helm, hauberk, or shield that this weapon of Agolant 
cannot pierce and slice. With such ardor he defends himself that 
no one dares to advance.

	Duke Girard then orders the fight to cease. He sends a 
messenger to the terrible Saracen. "If you want to deny Mahomet 
and to be baptized," said the envoy of Girard, "you can prolong 
your life and Charlemagne will give you land to govern."

	"Flee, coward," answers Agolant, "run away from here! Do 
not approach one inch closer, because you would soon have as a 
reward the fate you deserve. Never will any of my descendants be
reproached that out of fear I had myself baptized. Rather would I 
die than pray to the God of the Christians!"

	Claron, the son of Girard, hears these words. He is very 
annoyed. He rides towards Agolant. With his strong lance he 
strikes him, but he cannot shake him. Agolant does not have one 
denier of fear. In turn, he brings down his strong axe. The blow 
cuts off the front saddle tree and a quarter of the shield. Claron 
then draws his strongly tempered steel sword and with a violent 
blow struck on the helm of the Saracen he severs his head from 
his torso.

	At this sight, the pagans murmur among themselves. "We 
have lost our king! None of us remain. By fleeing, let us save our 
bodies! And by valleys, roads, rocks, and paths they run away at 
full speed. King Agolant is dead. Victory belongs to the Christians.

	Claron joins his father, the valiant Duke of Fraite. He 
presents him with the head of Agolant. It is still covered with his 
brilliant helm, surrounded with a ring of precious stones which at
the moment of danger had scarcely protected the bold Saracen. 
Agolant's eyes are closed, it looks like he is sleeping. His face is 
all covered with blood. From his head hangs a long braid that 
descended into the saddle when he was on horseback.

	The valiant Girard wants to see the actual body of Agolant.
On the dead man's chest rests the hard-edged axe. Ten noble 
knights lie speechless and lifeless around the pagan. Girard 
recognizes them, because he had raised them since their tender 
childhood. In a soft and sad voice he feels sorry for them. Then he 
dismounts. He gets himself disarmed and he orders that, because 
of the heat, Claron's helm and hauberk be untied. Finally, he 
summons his sons Ernault and Richer. "Run to Rise," he tells them,
"to prepare our resting place and reserve for me the great hall of 
the palace of Agolant!"

	Ernault and Richer reply, "Sire, let it be done according to 
your orders!" And they leave, pricking their coursers with great 
spur strikes.

CHAPTER 11 - THE COFFIN OF KING AGOLANT

On the very site of the battle Girard erected an abbey where one 
could always rediscover and recognize the bodies of those who 
perished fighting against Agolant. To this abbey he gives large 
offerings drawn from his own treasuries. He provides income for 
three hundred monks who will help sing matins. He himself 
appointed the abbot and gave so much from his own possessions 
that no one who came to the monastery would ever lack boots or 
shoes.

	He does not forget Agolant. He encloses his body in a bier. 
Leaving for Rise, Girard takes it with him. He had him buried in 
the middle of the palace, in the very room where young people 
came to amuse themselves at games and where Agolant himself 
had played his game of chess with King Abilant. The coffin is 
placed at the foot of a pillar where it can still be found if one is 
curious to go and see it. Then Girard orders Agolant's helm to be 
left on his head and that great care be taken of the dead man's 
armor, so that it is always pleasing to look at.

	The next day, he called his sons and a few other 
Burgundians of the highest nobility. "Get on your coursers," he 
said, "and go find Charlemagne. He does not yet know the fate of 
Agolant. Claron will tell him that, thank God, I have conquered the
pagans and that in this hard campaign I wanted, in serving him, to
serve above all the mighty God of heaven. May he never forget it, 
whatever may henceforth happen! Claron will bring him the 
supreme proof of my triumph. May Renier, moreover, offer him 
my share of the provisions which I have commanded to be 
prepared for him and his army."

	Claron replies, "Sire, in all respects your wishes will be 
carried out." Thirty sergeants whip with their straps the beasts 
which bend under the load. Claron, Renier, Ernaut and Bovon 
vigorously spur their mounts. They all descend in great haste 
down the hill which leads to the camp of Charlemagne.

CHAPTER 12 - PRESENTS FROM GIRARD OF FRAITE TO EMPEROR CHARLEMAGNE

	After clearing the camp of the Saracens, Charles erects his 
pavilion in the place where the standard of Agolant once floated. 
On the ball which surmounts the royal tent, he placed the golden 
eagle. He has removed his armor, because he is tired from having 
fought all day. He thinks of his lords who slew the Saracens when 
they desired to seize the standard of Agolant. He sees again the 
thousands of Christian corpses, lying stiff in heaps all along his 
path. When he sits down to table he is full of wrath. On his right 
sits the valiant Naimon, Duke of Bavaria, on his left, the good 
Ogier of Denmark. All his knights are exhausted, he finds no one 
to serve him except Girardet, Richer, Estolt of Langres, Haton, and
Bérenger.

	"Barons," said Charles, "I would not want to try to deny it. 
Only one third of the warriors who came to fight in Calabria now 
remain. The others are forever lost, who three days ago were still 
full of life and health. I swear by God, I did not come here to lay 
claim to this country. I only wanted to help God and exalt his law. 
This is what I affirm, because I have heard some accuse me of 
having undertaken this war of my own volition and of having 
been the cause of so much grief. Never again will I seek to seize 
any lands. Such conquests truly cost too high a price."

	"Sire," said Naimon, "do not be in such turmoil. It is God 
who sent your supporters to you and, as a reward, he will open 
paradise to them."

	At this moment four knights appear. The king bends over 
towards duke Naimon. "Look at these young knights. They are in 
fine fashion," he says, "they are not cowards nor simple varlets."

	And Naimon replies, "Sire, do you not recognize them? 
They are the sons of Girard of Fraite."

	"To the blessing of God!" concludes Charlemagne.

	Duke Claron holds in his hand a large goblet of fine gold, 
which Solomon, king of Israel, crafted in his youth. He carries it at
shoulder height to conceal its contents from the sight of the 
barons who are seated at table. He stops in front of Charlemagne. 
He speaks. Everyone listens to him with great attention. "Sire," he 
says in a clear and loud voice, "Duke Girard sends his greetings to 
you as the best man who at this moment sees the light of day. In 
this hard ordeal he has rallied to your cause and recognized you 
as its first lord, after God. We have made great conquests and his 
gain cannot be concealed from you anymore. He who inflicted on 
you such hard suffering and spoiled and ruined your land is now 
buried in the palace of Rise, and of his body here is the part which
belongs to you, and which is sent to you by the valiant Duke 
Girard of Fraite, my father."

	So saying, from the goblet Claron reveals the golden helm 
with a thousand precious stones. The sparkle of metal and gems 
illuminates the whole tent, reflecting in the wondering eyes of 
Charlemagne and the barons and coloring their faces, which until 
then were pale but now look radiant.

	Claron removes the round helm that contains the head of
Agolant. Charlemagne sees the closed eyes, the bleeding face, the 
white beard with flowery rings, and the long white hair like an 
ermine pelisse, so long that it fell to the saddle when the fierce 
Saracen was mounted on his courser.

	Charlemagne addresses a sweet prayer to God. Then, 
turning to Claron, "May the valiant Duke Girard be greatly 
thanked for his present, and may he be highly praised for his 
valor and his triumph! Command him to grant the army a fifteen-
day rest. However, I will collect our dead, I will separate the 
bodies of the poor men from those of the rich, I will recognize 
among those who are lying on the ground the kings, the dukes, 
and the counts. If I did not take care to give everyone their 
rightful burial, all my life I would be blamed for it. Girard has 
accomplished noble feats. In none of the lands under God's 
custody could a better knight be found. Under heaven there is no
distant conquest that I was not ready to undertake with him. 
Claron, tell the noble duke that if he wants to be king, he must 
not hide it from me. I am ready to put the crown on his head with
my own hand."

	"Sire," replies Claron, "you are greatly thanked for your 
words. In Duke Girard you can have full and entire faith, and in 
me also to convey your message to him."

	Claron is silent and in turn Renier addresses Charlemagne
in this way. "Duke Girard, my father, has taken up residence in the
city of Rise. We seized the ancient palace of this city without 
firing an arrow or drawing a sword from its scabbard. The cellars
were full of wine, the granary was full of wheat, and the larder 
abounded with meat. Duke Girard has loaded thirty mules with 
these supplies which we are bringing to you for you and your 
army."

	"This is well worthy of a big thank you," cries 
Charlemagne.

	"Sire," said Claron, "the fasts, the long nights spent 
watching after the days of incessant fighting have almost 
exhausted us. With no other home, we must return to our camp 
to regain some strength and to care for the sick, the wounded, 
those who vomit blood, and those whose wounds are still open. 
So let it not bother you if we do not stay with you any longer."

	"Friend," said Charles, "let it be as you please! Above all, 
take care, you and yours, not to anger the valiant Duke Girard!" 
Thereupon, the four companions take leave of the Emperor.

CHAPTER 13 - BAPTISM OF SARACEN QUEENS

The four knights return to Rise the following day. They stop in 
front of the palace.

	What is their surprise when they see twelve women 
looking out of one of the windows and when they hear these 
words that one of them addresses to them. "Sir vassals, you who 
have just come down from your coursers, take off your swords and 
come and succor us. I am alone here with a few women. You have
nothing to fear from us, for we are ignorant of the art of war, the 
handling of the lance, the practice of jousting, and tournaments. 
We are dying of hunger. Please, give us some food. We are ready 
to be baptized. Each of us will know how to serve a knight, wash 
his sheets, cut and sew his clothes, and prepare the bed where he
will sleep. Please, a little nourishment! It has been so long since 
we touched the slightest amount of food."

	Claron is confused, he is surprised, and with his right 
hand he crosses himself.

	"Sir knight," resumed the queen, "we all have empty 
stomachs, we are all dying of hunger, and we are nearly eating 
our hands. It has been so long since we have eaten anything and 
we have not seen wine, nor meat, nor bread. And yet I knew the 
day, and it is not yet so long ago, when I was filled with riches 
more than any woman on this earth. Ah, who would have thought
that so soon I had to suffer such villainous sufferings!"

	"Lady," said Claron, "let my words cause you no trouble! I 
am going to find the valiant Duke Girard and I will come back to 
talk to you."

	"Be diligent, sir vassal," replies the lady. "When you are 
starving, you are not inclined to accept delay."

	Ah, if you had seen with what haste Claron ascends the 
steps of the palace! He stops in front of his father who is sitting 
at his dinner. In quick words he informs Duke Girard of the 
message entrusted to him by Charlemagne. "God, my Lord," said 
Girard, "I owe you many thanks, to you and to you alone, for thus
endowing me with glory and honor!"

	"Sire," said Claron, "in the big tower I saw several women 
standing at the window. They want to be baptized and they are 
starving. Anyone who has been struck by their pitiful appearance
can only think of them and they must give them aid as soon as 
possible."

	With that, Claron descends the steps with long strides. In 
a few moments he is in the women's room. "Ladies," he said, 
"what are your desires?"

	"Knight," answers the queen, "we are all in a pitiful state. 
We have all been locked up here by the cruel Emir. At first there 
were thirty other queens with me, the poorest of whom possessed a 
rich kingdom, forty maidens of high nobility whom no man has ever 
approached, and a hundred Christians, each with his wife. Many have 
perished from hunger or fever. Now we are only thirteen queens with 
twenty maidens, and hunger and pain threaten us with quick death, 
too. This tower is full of the treasures of Agolant that the Great 
Emir did not have time to remove. In the vaults, heaps of red gold 
and white silver are buried. Here! I give you all of this for a loaf 
of wheat. I do not want to stay here a moment longer." With fear she 
opens the door. She walks slowly, weak and trembling. The other 
ladies follow her.

	Claron calls. Immediately several lords arrive. "Let each of
you," he said, "help these women to climb the steps which lead to
the great hall!"

	"Vassal," said the queen, "listen. Thirty kings attended my 
coronation. Now, I know that my fortune is completely annihilated, 
and I no longer expect any help from my people, for all have 
perished or fled. But I surrender to the God who was born of Mary 
in Bethlehem. And, by that God, I forbid you to put me to shame, 
neither me nor my companions!"

	"Have confidence, O queen. Command and we will obey." 
To climb the steps, each of the ladies leans on the shoulder of 
each of the knights. With his right arm Claron supports the 
queen. His heart is filled with joy. 

	The queen stops in front of the valiant Duke Girard. On 
this pale face and this emaciated body he fixes a gaze full of 
emotion. "Sire," she said, "I shall soon have finished speaking, 
if you will kindly lend me your ear. I am Queen Aufélise. I was 
just married to Agolant. You see these twelve queens and these 
twenty maidens whom no man has ever touched, they crossed the 
sea with me. Moreover, your son Claron told you of our sad 
adventures. No need to repeat the story to you at this moment. 
For all of us now I beg pity. Give us some food and, when we have
regained our strength, have us all baptized. In the name of your 
God, let none of your men touch any of us!"

	"I assure you," exclaims Girard, "that you have nothing to 
fear. If one of my barons commits villainy towards any of you, if 
one of them did not salute you all with full courtesy, however 
high his sword was girded on his left side, he would not be 
pardoned any more than if he had the audacity to pull my big 
flowery beard. You will be as nobly honored as if you had been 
begotten by my own father, such is my will!"

	The queens leave the room. They are brought water, 
quantities of towels, and basins suspended from nielloed gold 
chains. When Queen Aufélise sits down to eat, her face has 
already taken on beautiful colors, she looks like a rose whose 
dew has been dried by the rays of the sun one morning in May.

	Girard serves her as a courteous knight. Ah, if you had 
seen him get up, olive branch in hand! What pride, what 
arrogance radiates from his face! He summons his seneschal. "Go
serve the queen," he tells him. And he makes a sign to his master 
butler, "Chose the best of my wines and pour for the queen as 
much as she wants." And he obeys without delay.

	"Queen," said Girard, "if you can reach God by baptism, 
you must love and cherish him."

	"Sire," replies the queen, "I would not want to live one 
more day without having been lifted up on the font."

	At this moment a messenger presents himself on behalf 
of the pope. He asks for Girard. Girard comes down the stairs 
quickly. He runs to embrace the pope. Then he said to him, 
"Accept from me as a present two of the three palaces of this city.
Come with me to my great hall, I will show you Agolant there in 
his coffin, minus the head that I sent to Charlemagne. Then you 
will see Queen Aufélise, wife of Agolant, very much alive, as well 
as twelve other Saracen queens and twenty maidens of their 
retinue, maidens whom no man has ever touched. You must 
baptize these thirty-three high and noble ladies without delay."

	"As you wish," replies the pope, "but this is a heavy task 
for me, who am tired and barely able to stand up. Tomorrow, at 
daybreak, I will baptize them."

	The next day, as soon as the sky is clear, the tanks are 
placed near the fonts. They are filled with cold water. Then the 
balm, the anointing oil, and the salt are brought.

	The queens are ordered to wear only their shirts, coats, 
and shoes. Silent and somber, they obey. They shudder with fear 
when they are led thus dressed before the pope, the bishops, the 
clergy, and the army of Girard. Willingly or not, in the presence 
of this great multitude of men, they have to move forward. The 
pope looks at them and shows them to Duke Girard. "These 
creatures who are here before us, God brought them into the 
world to serve and honor men."

	"Indeed," said Girard, "in no land in the world are there 
such beautiful ones. If Charlemagne wants to act on my counsel, 
he will marry them in high places."

	The pope signs them first, then they are made to take off 
their shoes and coats and plunged into the tanks. This is how 
they are baptized. Henceforth Queen Aufélise is called Clarence, 
and each of the thirty-two other ladies also receives a new name. 
Then they put on their coats and shoes.

CHAPTER 14 - WEDDING OF QUEEN CLARENCE

The dead of the army of Charlemagne now lie in Calabria. Some, 
the most noble, are buried in the monastery where the emperor 
installs three hundred canons, responsible for praying to God for 
them. The others are buried in thirty-three mass graves.

	Then Charlemagne thinks of returning to France. He 
summons the pope and Girard, the valiant duke, whom he wants 
to see again before leaving Italy. Duke Girard had mules and 
hinnies prepared. The new queens are adorned with the richest 
attire. Queen Clarence, whom no one equals in grace and charm, 
rides on the most beautiful mule. Duke Girard takes the mule 
carrying her by the golden bit. In jest, he offers his love to the 
queen and requests her own. The other knights go towards the 
other queens and, speaking joyfully, they all set off.

	When the duke saw Charlemagne, he said to him, "I do not
wish to conceal any of my gains from you. All these ladies are 
Saracen queens, who have just been given to Our Lord. This one, 
the most beautiful of all, is the wife of Agolant. Find her, Sire, a 
husband worthy of her."

	Duke Naimon approaches near the queen. He takes her in 
his arms to help her down from the saddle. Counts and barons, 
as well as King Droon and King Salomon, rush to Clarence, eager
to remove her foot from the stirrup. Clarence looks Naimon in 
the face and chin. She said to him, "Vassal, what is your name?"

	"Lady," replies Duke Naimon, "why hide it from you? It 
was me that you saw in Aspremont. It is to me that you gave your
ring as a present."

	She bows before him and she sighs deeply. "Sire," she says,
"to the blessing of God! If you remember the past, now you will 
act as a noble knight."

	"I have not forgotten anything from the past, queen. The 
woman I will marry, as I told you long ago, she will be given to 
me by Charlemagne."

	Girard took Duke Claron by the right hand. On a blanket 
of Alexandrian silk, he sits in the royal tent. Around Charlemagne
three kings, seven dukes, and I cannot say how many counts and 
barons take their places. Girard of Fraite recalls his great deeds. 
Then to those who do not know it yet, he tells the story of the 
thirteen queens and the twenty maidens.

	"They are all here", he says to Charlemagne and in a soft 
voice he continues, "When in my youth, more than a hundred 
years ago, I took Emmeline as my wife, the daughter of the King 
of Hungary, his knowledge was far beyond mine. If I have 
governed my land with glory and success, it is because I have 
followed his advice. Now here is Florent, brother of Emmeline. If 
you give arms and supplies to Florent and if you return to him 
the inheritance of his father, who died to defend you against your
enemies, he may marry Clarence, the fairest and wisest woman 
in the West and in the East, and he will never find a mate better 
suited to him. If she welcomes him kindly and nicely, if she agrees
to become his wife, Florent can only gain in every way. If, 
moreover, he refuses Clarence, he will no longer have my love for 
the rest of my life. As for the other queens, I will take them with 
me to marry them to high Burgundian lords."

	And Charlemagne replies, "I will return to Florent his 
father's inheritance. He will serve as my adviser with Duke 
Naimon and Ogier the Dane. As for Clarence, she entrusted her 
ring to Duke Naimon and it is to Duke Naimon that I should grant
her. But Charlemagne never fails at his word. When you paid me 
your homage long ago, I promised to accept any request you 
would address to me. Clarence will therefore be the wife of 
Florent and the other queens may go with you!"

	Aufélise rises to her feet and Florent gives her a sweet 
loving kiss. The other queens observe this spectacle. They have 
pink and colorful faces, their rich finery further increases their 
beauty, and every Burgundian who does not yet have a wife 
hastens to ask Girard for one of them as a wife.

	The Pope consecrates Florent and Queen Clarence, and on
the head of the latter he places the crown which King Agolant 
had brought from Africa.

	With a sudden movement then the valiant Girard turns to 
Charlemagne. "In my kingdom," he says, "I recognize no authority
but that of God. For me, there is neither pope nor emperor. 
Charles, in the struggle against Agolant I recognized you as my 
suzerain, with my own mouth I called you thus. Against my will, I
more than once paid homage to your pope and recognized his 
power. I even kissed him, I showered him with rich presents and 
entrusted him with infidels to baptize. But now the war is over. I 
no longer recognize him and, as for you, I say it to your face, all 
my actions have been ordered only out of love for God. To God 
alone, henceforth, I remain subject. I am no longer your vassal, 
nor your ally, and, in my life, I will no longer be so."

	With these words, Girard jumps on his horse and, without
bowing in front of Charlemagne, he rides away. His sons follow 
him, as well as the newly baptized queens and all the 
Burgundians.

	The French look at each other. For a moment Charlemagne
remains pensive. Then a faint smile lights up his face. He shakes 
his head and softly between his teeth he says, "If my life takes me
to a long enough age, one of us will swallow the pride of the 
other."

                     FAREWELL OF THE TROUVÈRE                     
                                                                  
Lords, I sang to you of Aumont and of Agolant, of Charlemagne with 
   the proud manner, of Duke Naimon, of Roland and of his young 
    companions, of Girard, the valiant Duke of Fraite, and of 
        his sons. Christians perished in Aspremont by the 
           hundreds of thousands. Even on the field of 
            battle they had their reward. For God, who 
             suffered the passion and who raised Saint 
                Lazarus from death again, summoned 
                  them straight to paradise. May                     
                    God have such thanks for 
                     all of us! Lords, now 
                      my song stops. This 
                       is where it ends 
                         and I do not 
                          want to add 
                           anything 
                             more.

Glossary:

Bliaut (Bliaud) - Unisex overgarment worn in 12th century Europe, featuring
voluminous skirts and horizontal puckering or pleating across a snugly fitted
underbust abdomen
Broigne - Leather jerkin sewn with metal rings, scales, or plates to protect 
the chest
Buisine - Herald's trumpet with a long, straight body
Carbuncle - Precious red gemstone, polished round garnet
Clavain - Piece of armor covering the neck and shoulders, worn beneath a hauberk
Damoiseau - Young gentleman who is not yet a knight but aspires to be one
Denier (Denarius) - Old French silver coin, 12 deniers are worth one sou
Dru - Manly warrior
Gonfanon (Gonfalon) - Battle flag, banner or pendant hung from a crossbar or
attached to a knight's lance
Gonfalonier - One who carries the king's battle standard into battle
Hinny - Offspring of a female donkey and a male horse, less common than a mule
Jongleur - Musician who sings poetry, accompanying himself with a vielle
Livre - Old French gold coin, equal in value to a pound of silver
Mark - Half of a pound
Matins - The earliest of the canonical hours, traditionally prayed at or before
sunrise
Moutier - Monastery
Niello - Black mixture used as an inlay on engraved or etched metal
Olifant - Ivory hunting horn, used to summon troops to battle
Orphrey - Broad band of highly detailed embroidery used on the robe of a knight
Pelisse - Long fur-lined cloak, often with a hood
Petit-Gris - Furs made from the coats of grey squirrels
Rouncey (Roncin) - An all-purpose horse, used for riding or as a pack animal
Sendal - Fine, rich silk material used to make ceremonial robes and banners
Sou (Solidus) - Old French gold coin, twenty sous are worth one livre
Trouvère - Poets and composers of songs that they could interpret or play
Turcopole - Mounted archer locally recruited by the Christians during the
Crusades
Vair – Bluish-gray fur made from squirrels
Vielle - Medieval stringed instrument similar to a violin

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REFERENCES

Aspremont, Louis Brandin, 1925