OGIER THE DANE

LES INFORTUNES D'OGIER LE DANE

(THE MISFORTUNES OF OGIER THE DANE)

12th Century Old French Chanson De Geste by Raimbert de Paris

Modern English Translation by Nol Drek

CHAPTER 1 "Charlemagne to the rescue."

Do you like, lords, to hear a song of great deeds? It will tell you
about the life of Ogier the Dane, one of the bravest warriors of
sweet France...

	It was Easter and Charlemagne was holding court at 
Saint-Omer. One day, four of his knights presented themselves 
before him in such a state that he had difficulty in recognizing 
them: the unfortunates were tonsured like priests; in addition, 
their beards and mustaches had been shaved off. "Barons," 
cried the Emperor, "who has insulted you so much?"

	"Sire, it is Godfrey, the wicked duke to whom we were 
sent by you as an embassy." 

	"By Saint James!" growled Charlemagne, his son Ogier 
will pay us! He will be hanged on the gallows, this young 
gentleman that Duke Godfrey left us as a hostage." Then 
turning to Guimer, the squire of Saint-Omer, "Friend," 
continues Charles, "lock up young Ogier in your dungeon; you 
will answer for him." Now Ogier was a remarkable beauty: he 
had blond, curly hair, gray eyes, a fair complexion, long, supple 
arms, a broad chest and a slender waist, arched feet and well
formed legs. He was bold and valiant as well as handsome; so 
Béatrix, Guimer's daughter, fell in love with him and married 
him secretly; the father suspected it no more than the Emperor,
and when, after Ogier's departure for Rome, the lady gave birth
to a beautiful little boy who was given the name of Baudouin, 
no one suspected at first that he was the son of Ogier the Dane.

	Let's leave Béatrix behind and talk about Ogier. To obey
Charlemagne, Guimer kept the bachelor in his palace. One 
morning the Emperor ordered the Dane to be brought to him.
"Ogier," he said to him, "your father, as you know, has not 
fulfilled the conditions of the pledge for which you are a 
hostage. Moreover, he outraged my messengers, having them 
tonsured and shaved. By my beard! you will pay dearly, 
because you will be hanged or quartered."

	"As you wish, sir! It seems that my father does not like 
me very much, since he did not think of the danger I was 
running. But if you put me to death, King Charles, you will do a 
wicked thing." Then, raising his eyes, Ogier looked at all the 
barons who were in the room: Eudes of Langres and Guibert of
Rivier, Huon of Troyes, Samson and Foucher, Duke Naime of 
Bavaria, Richier of Le Mans, Gautier of Avallon , Hernaut of
Nantes, Godefroy of Angers, old Fromond, Gaifier of Bordeaux, 
Doon of Poitiers and the brave Count Renier. "Lords," said the 
boy, "the king wishes to have me killed." In the name of the 
glorious God, I pray that one of you will vouch for me."

	"Beautiful child, gladly, if it can help you." Then fourteen
counts threw themselves at the feet of Charlemagne and 
begged him to have pity on Ogier. "The child can't take the
punishment," they say, "if his father has deceived you."

	"Barons," cried the angry king, "I don't want Godfrey's 
example to be followed, and that's what would inevitably 
happen if I let his hostage go free."

	"Sire, it will be as you please, but a good Christian should
not take revenge on a defenseless young bachelor."

	"King," said the queen, "leave this child to me and I will 
make him one of my pages." 

	"You're wasting your time pleading his case, lady, for all
the gold in the world I won't give up my revenge."

	Knights and men-at-arms, ladies and damsels, wept and 
lamented, but the Emperor did not want to hear anything, and 
they were about to take Ogier to be hanged, when the gallop of 
several horses sounded; a moment later, messengers entered 
the hall, dusty and weary. The Emperor recognized the Romans.
"Lords," he said, rising to welcome them, "how is the Pope, his 
barons and his priests?"

	"Sire, otherwise than well!" There is no longer a chapel or a 
monastery in Rome which is not burnt or ruined, for the 
Saracens have entered the city and have wreaked terrible havoc
there."

	"God!" said the king, "how sorry I am! My barons are
about to get ready and we will leave immediately to help the 
Pope... Hernaut of Nantes, I entrust the son of Godfrey to you, 
you will bring him straight to Rome. When all my vassals are 
gathered there, I will have gallows erected and he will hang 
there in full view of the French, Germans and Bavarians."

	The emperor sent to all his fiefdoms letters decreeing 
that no man capable of bearing arms, whether young or old,
should stay at home; Angevins and Bretons assembled in Paris, 
under Montmartre, while Lorraines, Germans, Frisians, 
Normans, Burgundians and English joined the king at Besançon.
The army rode at top speed; they were soon in Lausanne, where
they camped within sight of the mountains. Contemplating the 
sharp rocks that rose to the sky, Charlemagne saw the storm 
and the mists, and he took great fright. "Beautiful Lord God," he 
said, "you who once shaped the world, drive my army and all my
baronage beyond these mountains." So, breaking camp, the 
French entered the Rhone Valley; Charlemagne saw the snow, 
the ice, the peaks rising to the skies. "Glorious Lord God," he 
said, "follow me, because this passage terrifies me. I do not
see neither road nor path by which I can cross the mountains; 
show me one, sire, I pray." Suddenly, there appeared in the 
middle of the army a snow-white deer: "Follow him, knights!" 
exclaimed the Emperor, "that is a messenger from Heaven." For 
eight days, the French marched behind the deer and, although 
the path was narrow and bordered by precipices, they lost 
neither soldier, nor knight, nor mule, nor destrier, nor sommier,
and they arrived safe and sound in the town of Aosta at the foot 
of the Italian side of the Alps.

	The emperor was full of pride at having succeeded in 
passing the mountains without incident. The jongleurs played
the old songs, the pages poured out the wine, and the whole 
army was filled with great joy. "Hernaut de Nantes," said 
Charles, "bring me your prisoner!" And when Ogier was before 
him, "Ogier," he said, "God has worked for me, so I must be 
merciful. You will not be hanged or quartered as long as I remain
in Italy."

	"Sire, in the name of God, I give you thanks."

	"King, ride!" cried the Duke of Apulia, who had come to 
meet Charlemagne. "Why did you slow down your journey? 
Don't you know that the Saracens took possession of Rome, that 
King Corsuble and Danemont his son established their court 
there?" At these words the French resumed their march: they 
crossed Tuscany and went straight to Sutre, where they found 
Pope Simon and his barons, who had fled from Rome; they 
received them and lodged them very well.

	The next day, very early in the morning, the Emperor
calls Eudes of Troyes. "Eudes," he said to him, "take one hundred
knights and climb this mountain. Whether you see Saracens 
from there, you will come let me know."

	"With pleasure, handsome sir." Towards noon, Eudes 
returns. "Sire," he exclaims, "we saw Danemont come out of 
Rome with thirty thousand Turks, who are all good archers, and
an immense crowd of Saracens; they devastated the countryside,
burned towns and villages, and they took away prisoners in 
large numbers, men, women, and children. The captives cry out
for Charles of France to come help them! Just Emperor, you have
delayed too long... Sire, they will pass this way in a moment."

	"God!" said the emperor, "we must save these Christian
prisoners... Barons, what are we going to do? Eudes of Troyes, 
you who have seen the Saracens, do you think that we can 
without madness offer them battle?"

	"Sire," cried Naime, "what a question! As soon as we put 
their front rows out of action, the others will flee to the sea."

	"Good Saint Denis!" said Charles, "to whom shall I entrust
my oriflamme?"

	"To me, sir," Alori replies. "I know Rome well. I was born 
in Apulia; if I carry your oriflamme, you will not be in any 
danger."

	"I do not want to refuse it to you,” said the king. Alas! it
would have been better if any other had been charged with it,
for, through the fault of Alori, the French were killed in large 
numbers; they were nearly completely undone.

CHAPTER 2 "The Oriflamme in Peril."

Would it please you, lords, to hear now of the Saracens?...
They rode in good order and in close ranks. Suddenly, one of 
them turned around, and he saw the army of the French coming 
down from a hill; the oriflamme shone in the sun, lances and 
hauberks sparkled, the helms were blazing. "Sire Danemont," 
he cried, "Here comes Charlemagne: he has crossed the 
mountains with all his knights! Do you dare to fight them?"

	"I'm going to provoke them on the hour," Danemont said,
"and they won't take pride in this encounter."

	The Saracens rushed at full speed down on the French; 
the melee was terrible and murderous. When he saw that the 
battle would be very hard, Alori took fright and he went to find 
one of his parents, Gilbert, a Lombard from Benevento. "Sir 
Cousin," he said to him, "the fight will be mortal. Do you 
remember the battle where, out of pride, you remained until the
end, so that of your seven thousand men you did not bring back 
a hundred?"

	"Good sir," replied Gilbert, "I remember it. Let's run away!
There is no recourse against the dead." And, pricking their steeds
with their spurs, the two cowards threw themselves into a small
valley and set off at a gallop with their men. 

	When they saw that the standard of Charles was no 
longer among the French, the pagans took great pride and they 
redoubled their relentlessness. "Strike, Saracens," cried 
Danemont, "strike without fear! The standard bearer fled, we
we will be victorious." The felons attacked our warriors with 
such ardor that the valiant Naime, Eudes of Troyes, Samson the 
vigorous, and many more Frenchmen were taken as prisoners. 

	Salomon, king of the Britons, approached Charlemagne
in the press and, holding him by his shield, he said to him, 
"Emperor, we are in bad shape. See over there your oriflamme 
which goes at full gallop! You were wrong to give it to that 
cowardly Lombard; it looks like he ran away!"

	"God!" cried Charles, "what betrayal! French paladins, 
you see that your companions are prisoners of the Saracens and 
Persians. French knights, forward! Ahead! Montjoie!" Rallying his
barons, Charlemagne rushes into the melee, but he sees fall at 
his side Anquetin the Norman, Fromont the Old and his brother 
Moran... Soon his steed falls below him, our emperor remains 
alone on foot in the midst of the pagans. He draws his sword 
from the scabbard and assures himself of his shield; he defends 
himself like a cornered boar. "Montjoie!" he cried, "Montjoie!" 
Seven thousand French fly to his aid; they put Charles back on a
good steed and pull him out of his perilous position.

	But the young man Ogier contemplated the fray from 
above on a hill. He saw Alori leaving, followed by a hundred of 
his Lombards, he saw the Saracens striking terrible blows, 
killing a large number of French. Sighing in pain, he went to join 
his companions on the hillside, the squires, who were unarmed 
and like him kept away from the struggle. "Lords," he said to 
them, "honest, loyal damsels, the battle is bad for our people; we
are from sweet France, we too, sons of noble and valiant men: 
let's go to succor Charlemagne who is in such great need! See the
standard of France fleeing to the bottom of the valley. It's Alori 
the coward who leads, and more than a hundred Lombards 
follow him, the traitors! If you believe me, and if God helps us, 
they won't take any horses or weapons."

	"God confound the one who will not follow Ogier!" cried 
the damsels.

	Ogier and his companions descend from the hill running 
and rush in front of Alori. "Are you defeated?" asks Ogier. 
"Where is the king? Why did you leave him?"

	"Alas," answers Alori, "the king is taken, the French are
almost all killed; consider getting to safety."

	"Traitor," cried Ogier, "you're lying, it's full battle you left,
I saw you." At these words, Ogier seized the Lombard's destrier
by the bit and, raising his fist, he strikes Alori on the back of the 
neck with such violence that he knocks him down at his feet 
dazed; the squires make the same of many of the hundred 
Lombards. Hastily Ogier takes the arms of Alori, he dons the 
hauberk and brilliant helm, suspends the shield around his neck
and mounts the Arabian courser of the cowardly traitor. Then he
grabs the oriflamme of Charles of Saint-Denis, whose gold 
fringes brush against his hands. The squires all arm themselves, 
some with a lance, some with a staff, some with a good ash spear,
and, from the shirts of Lombard linen, they carve pennons. So, 
crossing the moor, they throw themselves into the melee.

	There was in the army of the Saracens a pagan named 
Jossé, who had spent a long time in France and who knew 
Beauvais and Paris. He sees Naime, that Turks were putting in 
leg irons, beating him with great blows of a staff, and he 
recognized him by his long beard. "Sire," he said to Danemont, 
"do you see that bearded old man over there? It is Naime of 
Bavaria who killed your parents."

	"I will take revenge for it," replied Danemont, "have no 
fear! When I will be at Mondior, my city, I will deliver him to my
lions; this will be a nice entertainment for the day of my 
coronation." As he was still speaking, Ogier and his companions 
fall on the pagans. The Dane rushes on King Faussaron, who has 
custody of Naime, and cuts his heart in two sections; Doon of
Nanteuil slaughters Malardon. The young men kill such a great 
crowd of Saracens that the moor is all strewn with corpses; they 
then put on the most valuable hauberks, take the best arms, and 
ride on the finest steeds.

	Irritated and grieving, Charlemagne, surrounded by a 
hundred of his knights, stood on a hill. There was not one who 
did not have his hauberk torn, his helmet holed or dented, and 
almost all were wounded. The king thought of retreating to 
Rome, when suddenly he heard a noise behind him of clashing 
weapons. He turned around and saw his oriflamme held by the 
child Ogier. “Look, lords, noble knights,” he cried, "what help God
has sent us!" Then, he raised both hands to the sky. "Sir God," he 
added, "I thank you for having granted me this reinforcement. 
Lords," he said to his barons, "let us go before these valiant 
warriors. Richier, brother in law, who are these proud knights?"

	"Sir, God forgive me! the one who bears the standard, he 
is Ogier the Dane, the son of Godfrey, the hostage who must die 
when we return to sweet France. He stripped Alori and his 
Lombards."

	"God reward me," said Charles, "for not having hanged 
Ogier yesterday." The king spurs his horse and comes over to 
meet Ogier. "Dane," he said to him, "hold on to your steed 
better. And this sword, why is it not by your side?"

	"Sire, I am waiting for you to have the leisure to gird it on 
me." So Charlemagne dismounts, and there, in the middle of the 
battlefield, he arms Ogier knight and makes him the gonfalonier
of the emperor.

	At this moment, the French saw a tall and strong Nubian. 
He was King Sadone, son of the Emir Quiquevant, one of the 
most powerful vassals of the king of the Saracens. Mounted on a 
superb courser caparisoned with vermilion silk, he came 
straight to Ogier and proudly told him, "Who are you, vassal, 
who took over the standard from the baron who won it? We 
were going to take it."

	"I am a prisoner of the emperor and my name is Ogier the
Dane; my father Godfrey is a rich and powerful king."

	“You are brave and valiant; I am here to ask you to do 
battle with the king. He is Caraheut, the son of King Gloriant. He 
is brother of Marsile, cousin of Baligant and engaged to 
Gloriande, daughter of our emir. From India to the West, from 
Algeria to the East, there is no braver warrior than he. He 
disembarked in Italy and he brings to Corsuble and to Danemont
wonderful reinforcements."

	"Go tell him," replies Ogier, "that I accept the battle, but 
that it will be hard and that it will end badly for him."

	"I will tell him, sire, before sunset," said Sadone while 
going away.

	"Tell me, sir," asks Charlemagne, "what did this heathen 
unbeliever announce to you?"

	"Sire, he says that his chief, Caraheut, brings here a great 
multitude of pagan warriors and that they want to disinherit us 
all. But, true God! I will make this Caraheut silent and 
harmless!"

	The French, having buried their dead and dressed their 
wounded, returned to Sutre and went straight to the palace. 
"What news?" the Pope asked the barons. "Have you 
encountered Saracens?"

	"Yes," said Charles, "and they mistreated us very much. 
We were betrayed by Alori, to whom I had given my oriflamme
and who fled... Where is he? Let someone go and fetch him for 
me."

	So they brought Alori who was shaking with all his limbs. 
"Just emperor," asked Ogier, "will you allow me to speak?"

	"I grant it to you, Ogier."

	“Lord barons, listen to me. No loyal knight shall condemn
one of his peers for fleeing the battlefield. If we punished this 
crime, many a highly regarded warrior wouldn't be here! No one
can borrow the courage of others, everyone can only make use 
of that which he received as his share. The emperor our lord 
made the mistake of not giving his oriflamme to carry to a knight
worthy of this office, but to entrust it to a Lombard. But everyone
knows that the Lombards have no great bravery. If Alori caused 
us losses, I compensated for them and beyond. I therefore ask 
that he be acquitted and I pray the king to let him go."

	"He will stay free," said Charles.

	"Sir Emperor, many thanks."

	"By Saint Peter!" cried the Lombards, who were very 
numerous in the audience, "Ogier spoke well."

CHAPTER 3 "Pride always brings great evils."

Lords, do you wish to learn what this Sadone did?...

	He returned to Caraheut, who was still at the port where 
he had landed. "Sadone, handsome friend," asked the Emir, "do 
you know any news?"

	"Yes, sire, Charlemagne has already fought against ours. 
Danemont would have had the victory if a young hostage that 
the emperor kept in captivity had not come running with a large 
host of squires to the aid of the French. But I approached the 
young man and I asked him his name. I learned that his name is 
Ogier the Dane and that he is the son of Duke Godfrey. I 
challenged him to do battle with you."

	"Ah! Sadone, what a reward you deserve! Mahomet, sir,
you have not forgotten me...Let's leave for Rome, knights! Let's 
hurry!"

	The arrival of Caraheut, followed by thirty dukes, twenty 
kings and an innumerable army, filled with joy the heart of 
Corsuble. "Caraheut," said the emir, "I will give you all of France, 
with my daughter I promised you, but I will keep Rome for me."

	"Sire, I do not yet accept your gift. I accepted battle with 
Ogier the Dane, son of the duke Godfrey; if I can defeat him and 
make him renounce Christianity, then I will take the France that
you offer me, with your daughter, the beautiful Gloriande." The 
princess heard these words and she rejoiced. Dressed in a silk 
dress, an embroidered tunic of gold, and a cloak with gold 
fringes, which showcased her tall stature and proud gait, she
was very beautiful; because of the heat, she had taken off her 
skirt and placed a crown of flowers on her head, which made her 
beautiful eyes appear deeper, whiter her fair complexion, and 
more vermilion her little mouth.

	However, Charlemagne's pain for his warriors killed by 
the Saracens was softened by the arrival of his son Charlot, who 
brought with him the reserves of the vassals. As soon as the 
knights reinforcements had taken some rest, the Emperor 
marched on Rome. The French rode all day; in the evening, they 
established their camp on the northern bank of the Tiber. 
"Lords," said Charles, "let none of you disarm, because pagans 
may surprise us."

	"We will remain fully armed, sire," answered Naime of 
Bavaria and the other barons. But Charlot, who was bold and 
imprudent, called his companions before dawn.

	“Get ready, lords," said he, "I want my barons to be the
first to defeat the Saracens; we will go ambush them on the road 
that the pagans will have to follow to attack the French."

	 "Gladly, handsome sir! However, let us take Ogier the
Dane; he is young and valiant like us, he will help to cause great 
slaughter of the pagans."

	"No," said Charlot, "we will not say that we could not
do without his help: me and my men, we will fight alone."

	The king's son came out of the camp with his companions.
A league from Rome, they met a raging torrent which they 
crossed; on the other side, they found themselves in a dense 
thicket of yews, viburnums, laurels, and pines, in which they hid.
But a Saracen who was guarding the woods saw them; terrified, 
he slipped out of the thicket like a hunted beast and returned to 
Rome, where he told his adventure to Corsuble and Danemont. 
Right away ten thousand Saracens came out of Rome and rode
quickly by the light of the moon... Alas! Charlemagne sleeps in 
his tent. Suddenly, a horrible dream makes him tremble so hard 
that all his bed is shaken.

	"What troubles you, handsome sir?" ask his chamberlains
who wake up terrified.

	"Barons," replies the Emperor, "for the love of the son of 
Mary, tell me where is my son."

	But at this very moment, the Saracens arrive in the 
thicket. To the cry of "Montjoie!" our French rush upon them.
"Strike, French!" exclaims Charlot, "and God help you!" Great is 
the melee and the terrible fight, but the pagans are ten times 
more numerous than the French; these must step back little by 
little, abandoning many dead and injured. 

	So a knight detaches himself from the army of Charlot; his 
shield to his neck, he crosses the Tiber, goes straight to the 
neighborhood of Charlemagne and exclaims very loudly in front 
of the emperor's pavilion, "King, ride! Go rescue your son, for he 
is in great need of it. He wanted to put his barons to the test, but 
ten thousand Saracens assailed them."

	"God!" said the king, "there is the explanation of my 
dream." Charlemagne arms himself hastily and goes to find Ogier
the Dane. "Ogier," he asks him, "do you want to help my son?"

	"With pleasure, sir." Ogier leaves in haste and five 
hundred knights go with him. On the banks of the Tiber, Charlot 
weeps and laments.

	"Glorious Father!" he said, "why don't we have here Ogier
the Dane! He would deliver us."

	"Sire," said the count Guy, "tonight we advised you to take
the good Dane, but you did not want it. Pride always brings great
evils."

	"I am humiliated," said Charlot, "but I want to die as a 
hero!" And he rushes again at the fiercest part of the battle; the 
pagans envelop him from all sides. At that moment resounded 
the war cry of Charlemagne, “Montjoie!" and Ogier, followed by 
his five hundred knights, attacks the Saracens from behind. More
than seven hundred enemies fall dead, Charlot is free.

	"Are you hurt?" asks Ogier.

	"No, good friend."

	The Saracens are on the run, but Caraheut stops near 
Ogier. "Ogier," he said, "would you that we take today for our 
combat? We will joust under the walls of Rome. My fiancée will
attend the struggle and will be the price of victory. She is 
beautiful and noble; if you can beat me, then it is you who will 
marry her."

	"I did not cross the mountains to take a wife!" Ogier said.
"You appear to me brave and courteous; deny Mahomet and
become Charles the Emperor's friend; he will gift you and you 
will have fine fiefdoms in Spain, towns, cities, castles and 
mansions."

	"I will never deny Mahomet," replies Caraheut. 
"tomorrow I will go find Charlemagne and I will tell him my 
desire to joust with you."

	The next day, Caraheut put on his finest clothes and went 
to the French camp. He came ashore in front of the king's 
pavilion. "Sire," he said, "be hailed in the name of the gods in 
whom the Christians believe. Barons, be saluted, you too, and
you especially, Ogier the good Dane. King Charles, the Emir of 
the Saracens sends you word through me that our knights are 
ready to give battle to the French. But why would we kill a great
many of our valiant barons and noble warriors? Here is Ogier
the brave... Lord, grant us to fight in a closed field. If I am 
defeated, all my pagans will declare themselves defeated in my 
person, but if it's the Dane who surrenders, the French will also 
surrender."

	"I grant it to you," said the Emperor, and the two 
combatants gave their pledges.

	Displeased, Charlot took Ogier by the shoulders. "Ogier," 
he said to him, "it's me and no one else but me who will fight this
battle."

	"No," said Caraheut, "I will not fight against you! But I'll 
bring you, if you want, King Sadone." 

	Out of himself with anger, Charlot began to insult Ogier. 
He was all the more furious because his father had made him, 
before the barons, violent reproaches about his imprudence of 
the day before, and that his vanity had suffered. "Ogier," he cried,
"if I weren't afraid of irritating the emperor, I'd cut you into 
pieces!"

	"You would be committing a great sin, sire," replied Ogier.

	"Emperor," said Naime of Bavaria, "we have left sweet 
France, our wives and our children for you, but we will leave 
immediately if you don't make this young madman listen to 
reason."

	"Charlot," said the Emperor, " I am telling you here that if 
we return to France, you will not hold an inch of my lands; I 
would rather give them to Louis or Pépin..."

	"Charlot," added Caraheut, "you are wrong to get angry, I 
will arm, to fight against you, a king rich and powerful, Sadone 
the valiant."

	"Ogier," said Charlemagne, "I fear nothing for you, because
you have proven your strength and courage, but my son is young 
and giddy; I do not think that he could endure the fatigue of a 
duel."

	"Sir," exclaimed Charlot, "Ogier will be there, if need be,
he will help."

	"You are right," said the Dane, "no evil will reach you, as 
long as I am there to defend you."

	"Many thanks, fair sir," replied Charlot.

	They brought the holy relics and the three knights swore 
to abstain from all treason. Then Caraheut got back into the 
saddle and rode proudly from the French camp. As soon as he 
arrived in Rome, he was summoned to the palace by the emir and
questioned on his embassy. "Sire," said Caraheut, "Sadone and I 
will go fully armed to the island which is in the middle of the 
Tiber; the French will send there on their side Charlot, the son of
the Emperor, and Ogier the Dane. I promised Ogier to take 
Gloriande, my fiancée, with me. Our armies will accept the fate of 
their champions. These, sire, are the conditions of the contest."

CHAPTER 4 "The double joust."

Fourteen kings armed Caraheut; they clothed him in a hauberk of 
marvelously tempered steel, and girded him on his left side with 
his sword which was named Courtain. It had been melted and 
tempered more than twenty times by the blacksmith Escurable,
then richly adorned with precious stones. Once he had finished it, 
he tested it by striking with all his strength a marble step and it 
broke. He was therefore forced to recast and rework it, which
shortened it and earned it its name, but it was the strongest 
sword in the whole world. Caraheut rode up on an ebony-black 
steed and all the Saracen people exclaimed with one voice, 
"Mahomet, help our champion this day!" Sadone also armed 
himself, and when the two barons were ready to leave, Gloriande 
approached them.

	"Caraheut," she said, "am I still your girlfriend?"

	"Woe to anyone who dares to deny it!" exclaimed Caraheut.
"Pretty sister, sweet girlfriend, you will come with me to the 
island."

	"Sire, willingly, if my father and my brother grant it to me."

	"I want it, my daughter," said Corsuble. So they put 
Gloriande on a mule of Syria, the Saracen barons accompanied 
their champions to the Tiber, and the sailors transported them to 
the island.

	But Danemont was doleful and full of anger. He would 
have liked to fight, too. "By Mahomet!" he said to his knights, 
"this day will not end until I have fought. Prepare yourselves,
Lords, and be ready to accompany me." This was a betrayal of 
which Caraheut had no knowledge. Danemont and thirty barons 
left Rome without saying a word, and took up a position fully 
armed in the reeds near a ford of the Tiber.

	The four combatants are on the island. Caraheut and Ogier
challenge each other, they spur their good destriers and rush 
against each other; at the same time Sadone defies Charlot. The 
valiant warriors give each other such formidable blows that the 
shore resounded from them half a league upstream and 
downstream. Sadone and Charlot vacated their stirrups, and their
horses ran away through the swamp, but Caraheut and Ogier held
firm. Ogier's spear shatters; he draws his sword, strikes Caraheut 
with it on the helm and injures him slightly. "Caraheut," cried the 
pagans from the shore, "what are you doing? Take up Courtain, 
your good sword, the best of the world, and you will be 
victorious."

	Blows rain down, the four barons lose their blood, but they
continue to challenge each other with proud words. The two 
Saracens begin to weaken, when suddenly arise Danemont and 
the thirty heathen felons who were hitherto hidden in the reeds. 
They attack the French champions who defend themselves as 
best they can, but what can they do against so many opponents? 
They take Ogier prisoner and drown Charlot's steed in the River. 
The French receive the young man in a boat. Charlot hastily goes 
to his father: "Sire," he said to him, "the Turks have taken Ogier; 
we are betrayed, sire, attack the city to deliver the valiant knight."

	"I am going to hold a council," said the emperor, "summon 
all my barons."

	However, the pagans arrive in Rome with their prisoner; 
they disarm him under an olive tree and contemplate him with 
admiration, so beautiful and strong. Then they call the emir. "Sire,
come and see our captive! We took him to avenge our relatives he
killed the other day."

	"You have done well," said Corsuble, "he will be hanged."

	But Caraheut arrives at a gallop. "Sir Emir," he said, "you
will cause all chivalry to be loathed. You allowed me to joust with 
Ogier. He and I, we agreed on the terms of the fight. You make me 
break them: that is wrong, sire. Give me back Ogier, you cannot 
without great injustice detain him here."

	"You plead in vain, Caraheut," answers the emir, "I will not 
render him to any man under the sky."

	"By Mahomet! You will regret it," said Caraheut between 
his teeth, and he went away, irritated and mournful, to his 
lodging. "Arm yourselves," he shouts to his barons. "Danemont, 
the tyrant, has taken Ogier; the emir does not want to give him 
back to me; let's attack Corsuble in his palace, we will see which 
of us two will be the strongest."

	"Caraheut," replies Rodoant, king of Egypt, I am your 
vassal and I owe you obedience, but I beg you not to punish the 
emir. You are his vassal, you owe him respect and obedience. 
Leave him alone tonight. Tomorrow the best speakers that there 
are among your people will make him listen to reason, you will 
tell him that he must return Ogier to you safe and sound, or that 
you will henceforth be his sworn enemy."

	"By Mahomet!" exclaims Caraheut, "he will no longer be 
my friend until the day he frees Ogier."

	"Neither will he be mine,” said each of his barons. 

	Gloriande in her turn returns to the city and goes straight 
to her brother. "Sire," she said, "you have acted badly in taking 
Ogier. Return him to Caraheut and stay good friends."

	"By Mahomet!" exclaims Danemont, very irritated, "do not
meddle in this business, or it will sting you."

	"Danemont, brother, you love quarrels too much, bad luck 
will happen to you."

	Early the next morning, Caraheut went with all his 
baronage to the Emir Corsuble, and, very courteously, he asks 
him to give him back Ogier. "By Mahomet, no!" cried the emir,
"I will return him to no living man; tomorrow, before daybreak, I 
will hang him." 

	So, without taking leave of Corsuble, Caraheut leaves the 
palace; he goes straight to the camp of the French, where he finds 
Charlemagne in the midst of his barons; he throws himself at the 
feet of the emperor and says to him: "Sire, here I am; keep me a 
prisoner in your camp, until the valiant Ogier is returned to you, 
who was treacherously taken from you."

	"This pagan is noble and loyal," exclaim the French. 

	"Really," says Charles, "I have never seen a Christian 
knight more worthy of esteem. Friend, he adds, turning to 
Caraheut, sit down by my side."

	However more than twenty thousand Saracens ascend
to the palace of Corsuble. "Sire," say the best of their speakers, 
"you had consented that this fight would take place, Caraheut had
given his faith to Ogier. Your son has done wrong; return Ogier to
Caraheut, because you have no right to hold him in captivity."

	"Sire," exclaims Galatien, the bad traitor, "do not listen to 
these cowards! God confound he who will free Ogier!"
 
	"Corsuble," said Sadone, rising with difficulty because of 
the wounds that Charlot inflicted on him, "it is this traitor that 
you must not listen to: you will regret it, sire." All the Saracens 
then begin to speak at once; great are the noise and confusion in 
the palace.

CHAPTER 5 "The loyal Caraheut loses his fiancée."

At the same time, Charlemagne held his council and Caraheut 
took the floor. "Frenchmen," he said, "go and surprise the 
Saracens in Rome and renew the fight every day, until Ogier be 
delivered to you."

	"The pagan is right," said Naime, "we cannot remain here 
without cowardice."

	"Barons," orders Charles, "go and arm yourselves." Soon 
the horns sound the attack, more than twenty thousand French 
rush on the Saracens, who are outside the town. The battle is 
getting hour by hour more terrible; at vesper, the pagans are on 
the run: they return to Rome, leaving on the field of battle a large 
number of their dead and wounded.

	From the top of the wall, Gloriande sees her brother; she 
whispers in a loud and clear voice: "Ah! Danemont," she says, 
"you showed too much pride and disloyalty, you are punished for
it."

	Charlot, who was chasing Danemont, pulls the reins to
stop his horse: "Who are you, beautiful?" he asks.

	"I am Gloriande, the Emir's daughter. Ogier is safe and 
sound, I myself brought him food to eat. But turn back, sire, 
without wasting any time, because all the baronage of my father 
is armed to fly to the aid of our people." The French do not fear 
the baronage of Corsuble, but suddenly they see in the distance 
the black valley of warriors. There were such a multitude of them 
that, if one had thrown an apple among them, it would not have
fallen on the ground, but it would have hit a spear, sword, 
hauberk or helm. The French therefore return to their camp, 
joyful to have put to death so many Saracens, but deeply 
saddened by the arrival in Rome of this new army of pagans.

	As for Corsuble, he welcomed with joy and pride these 
marvelous reinforcements. This time, he thought, Charlemagne 
would be defeated, for all the reinforcements from Arabia, India, 
Algeria, Syria, and Persia were now at Rome. Among the vassals 
who had just debarked, there was Brunamont, of Majorca the big 
island, mounted on a horse that was worth a city and which had 
the name Broiefort. Never, lords, have you ever heard of such a 
horse! He was all black except for a white star on the forehead;
he had often run three days and three nights without stopping. 
He was never tired, he never backed away from danger.

	The next day, Brunamont straddles Broiefort his steed, 
and leaves alone to go see the French camp. He crosses the Tiber, 
and near the ford, he suddenly finds himself face to face with five
French lords returning from hunting wild game: they were Gaifier
of Bordeaux and his companions Guimer, Ydelon, Godefroy of 
Angers and the Duke Naime. Immediately the proud Brunamont
challenges them. One Saracen challenges five French! It's not too 
much for our barons. Guimer rides his horse at a gallop and 
rushes at him, but the shock is so terrible that he is knocked free 
from his stirrups and falls to the gray ground badly hurt. 
Brunamont takes the steed of his enemy by the reins and goes in 
the direction of Rome: the four French barons follow. They 
cannot catch him, because Broiefort gallops faster than all the 
other coursers. Brunamont finds on his way a soldier of Laon 
returning to the camp of the French; with one blow he knocks 
him down in the middle of a meadow and he also takes his horse. 
He returns to Rome and introduces himself in front of the Emir.

	"Where do you come from, Brunamont?", asks the Emir. 

	"Sire, I went to spy on the French; I killed two knights and 
I bring you their good steeds."

	"Brunamont, you are a brave warrior. I will give you 
France, if you want, together with my bright-faced daughter." And
the emir hands him his glove, pledge of his sincerity. 

	The Saracens say to each other, "Caraheut, sir, you are 
losing your fiancée. If you were here, you would have challenged 
Brunamont."

	Ogier was kept in the room where Gloriande and her ladies
spent their time. A messenger came to the young daughter and 
told her what her father had just promised. She began to cry 
upstairs with Ogier and a broken heart. "Caraheut, sire," he 
sighed, "it is for your loyalty that you are deprived of your lady! 
Alas! Why can't I speak to the emir: I would have presented my 
pledge to this Brunamont, I would have fought to keep his lady 
from Caraheut.

	"I will get you to speak to the emir, handsome friend," said
Gloriande.

	"Thank you, lady."

	Gloriande enters the large paved hall, she passes through 
the crowd of pagans who make way for her respectfully, she 
arrives in front of her father. The emir takes her by the hand. "My
daughter," he said to her, "I have betrothed you to the best man 
who ever girded a sword."

	"Sire, Caraheut has not been unworthy in any way, why do
you insult him so? Didn't you give me to that baron in front of 
your whole court?"

	"My daughter, Caraheut left me to take refuge with the 
French. He's a traitor, you will be married more honorably."

	"Sir, it is my brother who did all this... Where is this king
to whom you intend me?"

	"Here I am, beautiful," said Brunamont. "I will marry you 
according to the law of Mahomet and we will reign over all of 
France, because we are going to defeat the French, and I will 
bring Charlemagne back dead or alive."

	"Sir, you will show marvelous courage, if you can defeat all
the French! But the emir has one captive in this palace, and I 
know that if released, he would fight against you in the name of 
Caraheut."

	"Beautiful," said Brunamont, "I will gladly joust with him, 
if the emir wants to give permission."

	"Put them together, sir emir!" cried all the Saracens.

	"My father," said Gloriande, "Ogier asks to speak to you."

	"Bring him to me," said the emir.

	We therefore introduce Ogier; in his path rises a murmur 
of admiration. "Sir Emir," said Ogier, "here is my glove, will you 
take it? I will make a point of proving that Brunamont acted badly
by disinheriting Caraheut and accepting your daughter."

	"That's very good, Ogier," said Brunamont, "to speak in 
favor of Caraheut, but you would not dare meet with me on the 
island of the Tiber."

	"Yes, actually," cried Ogier, "and right away! Ask the emir 
to set me free, and we will both go and fight on this island. I 
swear to make Charlemagne, Duke Naime and Hernaut of Nantes 
recross the mountains with our French and to leave to you all this
country, if you are the winner."

	"You are bold and brave, Ogier. So get your hostages."

	"Gladly," said Ogier, calling his squire. "Baudechon," he 
said to him, "go at once to the camp of Charles and tell Caraheut 
that I am going to joust for him with Brunamont, to whom the 
emir has just promised his fiancée."

CHAPTER 6 "Ogier conquers Broiefort, the marvelous destrier."

Ogier's squire goes in haste to the French camp. The Knights 
crowd to meet him. "What is your lord doing?" they ask. "How 
does he behave?"

	"He is safe and sound, thank God, and he tells Caraheut 
that he will joust for him with a Saracen king, tall and strong, 
whom the emir wants to make his son, because he has just 
promised her the hand of Gloriande."

	Hearing these words, Caraheut's blood boils in his veins. 
"Just emperor," he said, "grant me a respite, so that I may go to 
Rome to see who this king is who has insulted me in this way. I 
give you my word that I will return loyally as soon as the battle is 
over. On the third day I'll be here, unless you did not recover the 
valiant Ogier."

	"Caraheut would not lie to escape us," say the French, 
"grant him the grace he asks of you, sire."

	"Let him have all his pleasure," said Charlemagne.

	Happy, Caraheut goes to Rome and all the Saracens who 
see him shout to him in their language, "Ogier must fight for you 
tomorrow."

	"I want to be a hostage for him," Caraheut said, and he will 
take my steed and my arms."

The Emir runs up, looking irritated. "Did Charlemagne deliver 
you?" he asks.

	"No," replies Caraheut, "he will not deliver me until you 
send Ogier to him."

	Caraheut takes Ogier to his tent to arm him, and Gloriande 
follows them. "Sire," she said to Ogier, "Brunamont is a traitor and
very adept in combat. He has already cut off the heads of more 
than twenty-three kings."
 
	"Have no fear," replies Ogier, "if it pleases the King of 
Heaven, before sunset I will have done justice to this coward."

	"Then may he in whom you believe help you!" exclaims 
Gloriande. 

	"Ogier," said Caraheut, "I will give you my good sword 
Courtain, whom all dread. Now she will be yours."

	When the Dane is armed and mounted, the Saracens take 
him through Rome; he rides proudly, spear raised, he crosses the 
Tiber and arrives first in the small island. Ten thousand French
armed men gather on the right bank of the river to follow the 
fight with their eyes, while the pagans stand on the left bank. 
"Ogier," cried some Frenchmen, "stay with us; we can defend you 
well."

	"Lords," replies Ogier, "France would lose her honor and 
Caraheut would be condemned to death; I wouldn't do it for a 
whole valley full of gold." Brunamont appears in his turn, 
mounted on Broiefort; arrived at the edge of the water, he pricks 
his steed with his spurs; the beast rushes and crosses the river
so lightly that neither the saddle nor the rider are wet. "Beautiful 
Lord God," said Ogier, who covets this good steed, "if you judge 
me worthy, give me that horse."

	The two adversaries challenge each other, then they rush 
at each other repeatedly. Soon they are thrown from their horses,
they get up, and Brunamont draws his sword to hit Ogier; it 
pierces his shield and wounds him in the chest. So Ogier draws 
Courtain from his scabbard and strikes Brunamont on his helm
making the jewels fly, at the same time breaking several links of 
his hauberk. The Saracen staggers, but he pulls himself together 
immediately...

	I do not want to tire you, lords, in recounting for you all 
the prowess of the two knights. . . After they struck each other 
many terrible blows, Brunamont, who lost a lot of blood, begins 
to weaken. The pagans mourn and Barbarin exclaims, 
"Brunamont, sire, Mahomet keep you! Where is the strength you 
showed this morning? You who feared neither Saracen nor 
Christian, are you going to let yourself be brought down by a 
young bachelor? Strike your great blows, Brunamont, Ogier will 
be defeated!" At these words, the champion of the heathen takes 
courage; he swoops down on Ogier with such violence that his 
sword penetrates deep into the flesh of the French knight: 
vermilion blood springs. The Dane staggers, it's his turn to 
weaken.

	"Ogier," exclaimed Brunamont, "I believe that you felt my 
sword! By Mahomet! I will not eat until I kill you! There is no man
under heaven who can save you from death, not even your God, if
he were here."

	The French are saddened by the sight of their champion in 
distress; the emperor raises his hands to heaven and prays to 
God. "Beautiful Lord God," he said, "you have helped me many 
times so far, have mercy on me, restore Ogier to me safe and 
sound." Then he exclaims, "French noblemen, remember me! If 
you are defeated, I must flee dishonored, and God will never be 
served in Rome. Take Courtain and strike this pagan! Before you 
have dealt him three blows, he will be out of action."

	These words give back to Ogier all his bravery. Gripping 
his sword more firmly, he strikes Brunamont so violently that the
blow goes through the helm and takes off his left ear. “Perish your
sword!" said Brunamont, "I conquered more than twenty kings in 
battle and never had I received such injury."

	"Really?" Ogier said. "You will still lose the other ear, for 
Gloriande who we watch." And quickly he gives him a second 
blow, which knocks his right arm to the ground with the shield he
was holding; then, with a third blow, he pierces his heart. So Ogier
takes the sword and the horse of the vanquished and looks 
around for the emperor. 

	A great clamor rises from the army of the French. 
"Brunamont is defeated! Brunamont is vanquished!" The emperor
at their head, they ford the Tiber and advance in front of Ogier. 
The young knight presents to Charlemagne Brunamont's sword 
and Charles receives it with joy. The Pope, mounted on a white 
mule, also goes out to meet the Dane to give him thanks; he 
blesses the French in the name of Jesus Christ and Saint Peter.

	After this joust, the French rode to Rome. They intended to
stop under the city walls, but they all found the doors wide open; 
not a pagan remained in the city, all had fled towards the sea. Our 
French pursued them; the Duke Naime slaughtered the Emir 
Corsuble, but Richier of Mans was pierced by Butor of Cordoba. 
Ogier launched in pursuit of Danemont and he cut off his head in 
the middle of a meadow. The pagans were completely defeated; 
those who reached the sea and were drowned in large numbers.
Caraheut, Sadone, Gloriande and a hundred Saracens remained 
captive in the camp of the French.

	When ours had returned from their pursuit, the king called
Caraheut. "Friend," he said to him, "don't you want to believe in 
God and accept the baptism?"

	"Sire, I would rather have all my limbs cut off; I will never 
deny Mahomet."

	"Sire," cried the French knights, "Caraheut is noble and 
brave, he deserves to be rewarded for his great loyalty."

	"Barons," said Charles, "we are going to set him free, and 
all his companions." So the Emperor gave them sixty ships and 
thirty barges laden with wine and wheat. Caraheut embarked 
first, then Gloriande, finally Sadone and all his baronage.

	Lords, you have heard how the proud young man, Ogier 
the Dane, conquered Broiefort, his marvelous steed, and Courtain,
his redoubtable sword. My song will tell you now what happened 
to Ogier later and why he took refuge in Pavia, with Didier, king of
the Lombards. Be silent, lords, to listen to me. Anyone who wants 
to hear a story should deliver without pretense his heart and his 
ears.

CHAPTER 7 "The chess move."

Years and years passed. Ogier became the emperor's gonfalonier, 
as you have heard, lords, Ogier the Dane succored him in many a 
war, captured for him many a castle and many a town. Without 
Ogier, Charlemagne would have lost half his kingdom.

	It happened once, at Easter, that the Emperor held his 
court at Laon. Ogier went there with Baudouin, his only son, 
who was a squire. The young man looked exactly like his father; 
he had, like the Dane, a proud countenance and great courage. His
mother, Béatrix, being dead, Ogier loved him for two. One day 
Charlot, the king's son, and Baudouin took a chessboard and 
began to play to pass the time. They placed their pieces and 
started the game. They made their knights, their rooks, their 
bishops and their pawns march so much that Baudouin ended 
up driving Charlot's king into a corner and checkmated him. So 
Charlot who, being lively and impetuous, did not know how to 
control his language, began to insult Baudouin and his father, the
good Dane. Then, seizing the chessboard with both hands, he 
struck the young squire on the temple with it, so violently that he
stretched him out dead. A great noise immediately filled the 
palace; everyone blamed the emperor's son.

	A squire runs to the home of the Dane to tell him the 
terrible news. "Ogier," he said to him, "your beloved son is dead: 
it's Charlot who killed him with a chessboard." Hearing these 
words, the Duke Ogier blanched; of mourning and rage he loses 
his senses. Seizing a lever, he flies to the palace; he sees his son 
lying bleeding on the flagstones, he kisses him again and again, 
while all the barons weep with pity. Soon Ogier gets up; his lever 
still in hand, he goes through the ranks of the barons, looking for
the murderer of Baudouin. But Charlemagne, foreseeing the
wrath of the Dane, hid his son in a room away from the palace
and locked him there.

	The Emperor advances to meet Ogier: "Sir, he said to him, 
I implore your mercy; calm down and let us advise you. Alas! 
None of us can undo what is done. Your son is dead my heart is 
grieved; I am told that it was Charlot who killed him, I fear, but 
nothing can bring him back to life. Sir Ogier, accept the fine which
I will pay you; the dukes, counts and princes who are here will 
judge what it should be.

	"By the saints to whom we must pray!" exclaims Ogier, "I 
will never accept a sum of money for the life of my son. I want to 
kill Charlot with my good steel sword."

	"Since you don't want to keep the peace, Ogier, I must 
banish you from sweet France. If tomorrow I find you again at 
Laon, I will have you thrown into my prison."

	The duke hears these words, anger swells his heart and 
disturbs his senses. He thinks he's suffocating, tears are welling 
up in his eyes: mad with rage, he clutches his lever and rushes at 
the emperor who jumps aside to avoid the blow. The lever fell on 
the head of Lothair, the queen's cousin, who falls dead.

	"Barons," shouts Charlemagne, "sieze this madman!" The 
knights run after Ogier, they assail him from all sides, but, 
spinning the lever in a circle, the Dane wounds and kills many. 
Then the twelve peers remember that one must help his friend in
need. Despite Charlemagne's anger, they extricate Ogier, protect 
him, get him out of the palace, clothe him in his armor, saddle 
Broiefort his good steed, and bring his horse to him. Without 
delay, Ogier leaves Laon and flees across the country. 
Charlemagne pursues him with all his knights, but Broiefort 
gallops faster than the other coursers.

	Suddenly, the Dane turns around; he sees in the forefront 
of his pursuers Charlemagne mounted on his steed Blanchart, 
which he urges on strongly with his spurs. "By God! Dane," cries 
the emperor, "why run away? Come back to Laon and suffer your 
punishment."

	"No," replies Ogier, "because this would be to bear an 
injustice." Then he thinks of Baudouin, he turns bridle and, lance
in stop, he awaits the emperor. The two warriors joust there in 
the middle of the countryside; they give each other terrible blows:
the Dane's lance pierces the hauberk of the king and wounds him 
in the side; Charles falls backwards. Drawing his sword, Ogier
dismounts and, in his fury, he is about to cut off the king's head, 
when a thousand knights come to the rescue. They rush on Ogier,
they force him to leave Charlemagne. Broiefort kneels, the Dane 
jumps into the saddle and the good steed sets off at a gallop, the 
whole pack of knights behind him. Soon Ogier encounters in his
way a wide and deep river; Broiefort jumps over it without 
difficulty, but the French barons are forced to turn back. They 
return to Laon where they bring back the wounded emperor.

	As soon as Charlemagne recovered, he sent to all his fiefs 
and to all his marches, messengers through whom he sent orders 
to his vassals not to receive or assist his enemy. Ogier crossed the
mountains and went to Pavia, to the court of King Didier. "Sire," 
he said to him, "I am an unhappy man: Charlemagne has banished
me from France, he left me no town, no castle, no village where I 
can take refuge. And yet, if I killed several king's barons, it is 
because his son Charlot put to death Baudouin my only son. So I 
come, sire, to ask you and pray that you will help me. Keep me 
with you, I will serve you faithfully."

	Didier cast his eyes on this Frenchman; he saw that he was
tall, handsome and strong: "Who are you, knight?" he asked him. 
"Don't hide your name from me!"

	"Sire, I am Ogier the Dane."

	At these words, Didier gets up hastily and comes to 
embrace his guest: "Lord God," he cried, "you have accomplished
my dearest desire, since you have brought to my court Ogier, the 
good Dane, the best duke who ever mounted a steed... Ogier, all 
my land is yours. Order, all here will do what you desire. You will 
be my gonfalonier in the battles; it is you who will lead my army; 
I cannot entrust it to a braver person than you. I give you 
Castel-Fort, it is a castle located on a high rock and so well 
fortified that no one could seize it; I also give you the village of 
Mont-Chevrel which is not far from it. If the King of France comes 
to hunt for you in Pavia, ten thousand men will arm themselves to 
defend you. Ogier threw himself at the feet of the king, but the 
latter picks him up with kindness.

	The Dane therefore entered the court of Didier. There was 
a knight there named Berron, who was Lord of Plaisance. He 
became the sworn companion of Ogier, they loved each other as 
much as Roland and Oliver. Soon Ogier went to Castel-Fort and he
neglected nothing to render this place impregnable. However, 
Charlemagne had gathered in Paris all his barons, with their 
men-at-arms. One day, when the tablecloths had been removed 
after dinner, the Emperor rose; he was holding a knife, he turned 
it over, and with the handle struck violently on the table in front 
of him. All the room resounded, the French fell silent and listened
quietly to the words of their suzerain. "Lords," said Charles, "I 
make my complaint to you here. Godfrey's son, who had been 
sent to me as a hostage, made me very ashamed. He killed young
Lothair in the midst of my barons, he destroyed several of my 
vassals. Having crossed the mountains, he has now taken refuge 
in the city of Pavia, where King Didier supports him, who 
nevertheless owes me obedience. By God! King Didier will pay 
dearly for his kindness to my enemy; if he doesn't return him to 
me, I will leave him neither castle nor city. When I take him, I will 
put out both his eyes; we'll flay him alive and we will salt him, 
unless he returns Ogier... Lords, I need a messenger who will 
cross the mountains and go to Pavia to order King Didier to send 
the Dane to me immediately loaded with chains, and tell him that,
if he does not obey me, I will go with a hundred thousand men to 
ravage his country. Which among you wants to undertake this 
embassy? Whoever leaves will have my friendship forever; I will 
also give him towns and castles."

	Charlemagne sits down again, the silence is prolonged; not
a baron offers himself as ambassador, all fear the Dane. Then 
Duke Naime rises: his beard is white as snow, he is old and frail, 
his great vigor is gone. Pale with pain, he came to the Emperor.
"Sire," he said, "I can still ride very well, I will be able to discharge
your message."

	Charlemagne remains long pensive; finally he recovers.
"Handsome sir Naime," he said, "you will not go to Pavia; I do not 
want to lose my best adviser."

	Then the old Duke of Bavaria turns to his son Bertrand. 
"Handsome son," he said, "raise your head and look at me! As long
as I had strength and health, I struggled for the service of my king,
but I am old and hoary, I can no longer roam around the world, 
my shield has become too heavy for my arm. From now on I 
would like to take my rest, to work on my salvation. But you, 
son-in-law, you are young and vigorous; tell me, is it laziness or 
cowardice that keeps you dumb when your lord asks for a 
messenger? Get up, because it is you who will go to Pavia. 
Bertrand, if Charles's message is not perfectly told to Didier, by 
Saint Paul! I swear you won't have a foot of my land!"

	"Naime is right," cried four hundred French.

	"Bertrand," said Charlemagne, "you will be my 
ambassador to Didier, the king of the Lombards."

	"Sire," replies Bertrand, "without the order of my father, I 
would never have taken charge of this message, because Ogier is 
the most valiant knight and the most loyal of Christendom. I 
would rather challenge him to single combat and put him to death
in the joust."

	"I forbid you," cried Charles, "for then Duke Naime would 
never see you again; Ogier would kill one after another ten 
knights as brave as you. But go challenge Didier for me."

CHAPTER 8 "Charlemagne crosses the mountains."

Bertrand set off with his squires to discharge his mission. He 
crossed Burgundy, passed the great mountains and the narrow 
defiles, stopped at the first Lombard village to change his money, 
and finally arrived in Pavia. He went to Didier's palace, where he 
found Ogier seated to the right of the Lombard king. "King Didier,"
he said, "I salute you from Charlemagne your lord, from Naime, 
the old duke of Bavaria, my father, and from the other French 
barons. All wish you well and assure you of their friendship, on 
one condition: that you return laden with chains, to the emperor 
his suzerain, the disobedient vassal whom you have gathered into
your town. Unless you deliver Ogier the Dane, sire, Charles' army 
will come to attack you before this summer is over. By the steeple
of Saint-Yves that I can see over there! French, Bretons, Normans,
Flemings, Berruyers, and Poitevins will besiege you in your city of
Pavia. They will burn all your towns, raze your castles, slaughter 
your vassals and their serfs, for no one resists with impunity
Charlemagne the Emperor."

	Pale with terror, Didier does not breathe a word; it is Ogier
who takes the floor to answer. "By God! Bertrand," he said, "if 
Charlemagne comes with all his army to besiege Pavia and ravage
Tuscany and Lombardy, even before he passes the abbey of 
Saint-Bernard, he will hear the armor of Didier's people resonate!
Don't believe that the Lombards are asleep: the king Charles will 
not leave this country without great loss."

	"Shut up, Ogier," replied Bertrand, "by the saints to whom 
we must pray! Repent of your disobedience. As for Didier, he will 
pay dearly for the hospitality he grants you!"

	At these words, Ogier, furious, throws at the head of 
Bertrand the knife he is holding in his hand. Stooping down, the 
knight avoids it, he draws his sword and rushes at the Dane. 
"Bertrand," cried one of his squires, "the Lombards are haughty 
and proud, there are here more than four thousand; if you touch 
the Dane, you will never see France again."

	"You say the truth," replies Bertrand, and he puts his 
sword back in the scabbard. "King Didier, I summon you one more
time to deliver Ogier the Dane to me."

	Then rises Berron of Plaisance, Ogier's sworn companion.
"Bertrand," he says, "go tell Charlemagne that he is wrong not to 
punish his son Charlot, who committed a murder. As for his army, 
we have no fear. I've been to Saint-Denis, I who speak to you, and 
I know the baronage of the emperor. I saw Charlemagne dress 
twelve ragged Breton knights in his old clothes. They had big 
paunches, for they were all swollen with milk and butter and soft 
cheese, and that made them heavy and clumsy: if these are the 
champions of the emperor, certainly ours are better... Tell your 
lord Charles that he will find our army in the plain of Saint-Ajose, 
as soon as he wants to fight; for our part, we will give him battle 
joyfully."

	"You did not see Salomon, the good king of the Bretons," 
answers Bertrand, "otherwise you would have changed your 
mind... I am the son of Naime of Bavaria, and I carry a sword with 
which I know very well how to chastise the boastful of your kind. 
I swear to you that the Emperor will soon come to Saint-Ajose,
because he wants the battle even more keenly than you." Seeing 
that it is useless to stay longer in the palace of King Didier, 
Bertrand retires and leaves for France. Arriving in Laon, he 
reports on his embassy to Charlemagne.

	"Friend," said the Emperor, "welcome. What news do you 
bring me?"

	"Sir, I have seen Didier and the Dane; they don't care about
your message, they challenge you and say that they are eager to 
give battle to you."

	"They won't wait long," said the Emperor... "Sir Naime, 
what do you advise me?"

	"Oh! sire, my advice is to agree with the Dane, for he is 
valiant and loyal. True God! Charlot has committed a crime by 
killing his son Baudouin. Isn't it natural that he had lost his reason
and that he wanted to avenge him? You banished him from sweet 
France. I am rather amazed that you did not think to soften your 
heart and show your mercy... Sire, recall Ogier and give him back 
his possessions."

	"Naime, I will never go back: I have promised war."

	"Well, sire, get your army and let's go."

	"I promised the battle to Didier, "exclaims Bertrand. 

	"You did well,” replies the king.

	Charlemagne gathered at Laon the van and the rear guard 
from his vassals; there was not any man left behind in the country 
that was capable of bearing arms. The Emperor entrusted 
Bertrand with his oriflamme. When everything was ready, the 
army set out, crossed Burgundy, passed the high mountains 
where, this time, Charles lost many men and even more horses, 
and finally arrived in the plain of Saint-Ajose where the battle 
was to take place. The French pitched their tents and established 
their camp; Charlemagne sat down on an armchair in the shade of
his pavilion, for the heat was oppressive. Casting his eyes on a hill
to his right, he saw a great multitude of men coming down. "Who 
are these people?" he asked.

	"Sire," answered Naime, "it is Girard of Vienna who brings 
you ten thousand men."

	"God be praised!" said the Emperor. In a large meadow on 
his left he saw glistening hauberks, sparkling shields, banners and
pennons that fluttered in the wind. "Holy Lady Mary!" he 
exclaimed, "what a great company!"

	"Sire," said Naime, "it is Baudouin of Flanders who brings 
you his vassals."

	However, one of Didier's spies had seen the arrival of the 
French. He went to Pavia and introduced himself before the 
Lombard king. "Sire," he said, "Charles of France has already 
passed the mountains; he is at the gates of your city, with the 
greatest army imaginable."

	These words filled Didier with terror, who called the Dane 
and asked for his advice. "Sire," said Ogier, "I did not hide from 
you Charlemagne's hatred for me; despite this you gave me 
asylum. I have served you in all loyalty and you have amply 
rewarded me for it. Now, sire, tell me your thoughts. Do you want
to deliver me to the Emperor? I'm very afraid of it and I beg you to
let me go free, because if you don't deign to help me, I'll go alone, 
with my four thousand knights, and give battle to the English: I'd 
rather die than fall living into the hands of Charlemagne."

	"Friend," replies Berron, "have no fear, I will accompany 
you; we will have twenty thousand men with us."

	Didier heard these proud words and he was ashamed of 
his fear: "Dane," he said in turn, "even if there did not remain in 
all of Lombardy a castle that is not destroyed or burned, nor a 
house which is not ruined, even though Pavia itself be knocked 
down, even if I am seriously injured, I will never fail you!"

	"Sir," said Ogier, "I thank you for it," and he throws himself
at his feet.

	Lords, my song will tell you how this promise was kept;
now, alas, I will have to narrate the sorrows and pains of the good
Dane.

	Didier therefore had his army assembled at Pavia, but 
Berron came to Ogier and said to him, "Companion, the Lombards
are hardly loyal, I'm afraid they will betray you, but I can count 
on my men, they will remain faithful to you: I will go get them. 
For God's sake, friend, do not give battle before I return!"

	When King Didier's army is ready, he goes out from Pavia, 
passes the hills and valleys and arrives in the plain of Saint-Ajose. 
Charlemagne has his army in thirteen battalions, commanded by 
the twelve peers and himself, while Ogier divides Didier's into 
ten columns. Both armies rush against each other: great is the 
melee and deadly battle. At the sight of the old Duke Naime, Ogier
sheds tears. "Haha! sire Naime," he exclaims, "you have protected 
and rescued me so many times that I will never turn my lance 
against you." With his sword Courtain, Ogier performs many feats,
but Charles' army is far superior in number to that of Didier; 
hundreds of Lombards fall dead or wounded, the Dane himself is 
hit by several blows, and the Lombards begin to retreat. Ogier 
rallies them and the fight resumes with renewed vigor.

	"Where are you, King Didier?" cries Charlemagne. "We are,
I and you, lords of all these barons; let's joust against each other 
instead of allowing so many noble knights to die. The one who 
will be defeated will lose his kingdom."

	"No," replies Didier, "I do not accept the fight." Then he 
adds between his teeth: "Ha! Dane, God confound you! It is 
because of you that my good knights lose their lives. Charlemagne
is too powerful for me to fight against him." Aloud he exclaims, 
"Pavia! Pavia! Holy Lady Mary, help me!"

	The Emperor throws himself at Didier and hits him with a
blow so violent that it knocks him to the ground, but the king of 
the Lombards draws his sword and defends himself valiantly. The
two kings fight fiercely until Salomon of Brittany and Girard of 
Vienna rush to the aid of Charlemagne, who has begun to weaken.
Ogier sees Didier assailed from all sides, and rushes to the rescue.
But the Lombards are losing the battle, and the Dane hears them
murmur. "Let us flee," said King Didier at last, "and leave Ogier in 
the hands of the French." His barons obey him, the Dane remains 
alone with five hundred of his knights. 

	Seeing this, the Emperor is overjoyed. "Who will capture
Ogier?" he asks. "The one who takes him prisoner will receive so 
many castles and cities that he will be rich forever." Angevins and
Normans rush to attack, there are five hundred of them against 
each one of Ogier's men. They defend themselves like lions, the 
Dane kills Richard of Normandy and so many other noble barons; 
Charlemagne wrings his hands in sorrow.

	However, Berron of Plaisance, followed by his company, 
approaches Saint-Ajose; he sees Didier and his men running away
like defeated people. He spurs his horse and comes to meet the 
Lombard king: "Where do you come from, good king?" he asks. 
"Where is Ogier, my companion? I don't see him."

	"Berron, Ogier is taken and my men are defeated."

	"Ah! false king," exclaims Berron, "God confound you! You 
basely betrayed the Dane, you lied like a coward, but, by Holy 
Mary, if he is dead, you will lose your life!" Then, seeing his 
brother: "Gérin," he adds, "of what villainy are you guilty? You run
away from the battle! Where is Ogier, the valiant and courteous? 
If he is dead, I shall have no more joy in all my life."

	"By my faith!" replies Gérin, "I had to take flight: of my ten 
thousand men, not even a thousand remain; all the others have 
been cut to pieces. We left Ogier angry and sorry; he fights against
the baronage of Charlemagne with the five hundred men who 
remain to him."

	"By God! Brother in law, you hardly have shown me 
friendship... You know, however, that the Dane is my sworn 
companion. Return with me, brother, we will rescue my friend."

	"I can not fail you, Berron, I will follow you, although this
be great folly."

	Berron and Gérin ride proudly in the lead of their people, 
although they know that Charles' men outnumber them forty to 
one. They find Ogier on foot and all drenched in vermillion blood;
his shield is perforated, his hauberk in tatters. They fly to his aid; 
the fight resumes. Great is the melee and the terrible battle.

	Lords, I cannot tell you all the prowess of Ogier, Berron 
and their men, nor tell you all the great feats of arms of the 
French...

	Ogier will never have the upper hand, because the French
are too numerous. "Comrade," he said to Berron, if I found 
Broiefort, my good steed that I lost, I would sell myself dear 
before I die." Berron turns his head, he sees the noble courser 
who makes his way through the middle of the press to seek his 
lord. A Frankish Knight takes him by the rein and wants to mount 
him, Berron kills the knight, brings Broiefort to his companion 
and puts the Dane back in the saddle. But the good Lombard falls 
under the blows of the French, as well as his brother Gérin and 
most of his barons; Ogier remains almost alone. Then, in despair,
he finally fled; kicking Broiefort with his spurs, he splits the 
crowd of warriors and flees.

	"Barons!" exclaimed the Emperor, "after Ogier! Pursue 
him! I shall not rest until I have had him flayed alive and his limbs
torn off one by one." At these words, fifteen hundred French set 
off their horses at a gallop in the footsteps of Broiefort.

CHAPTER 9 "The terrible ride."

Ogier rides for a long time like a madman; little by little the noise 
of the pursuit decreases, then goes out, Broiefort gallops still. At 
vesper, he finally stops, and the Dane looks around. He is in a wild
valley, at the foot of a huge rock. Ogier thinks he is safe in this 
deserted valley: he unlaces his helm and takes off his hauberk; 
with his sword, he cuts off the sides of his bliaut to bandage his 
still bleeding wounds. Then, weak and weary, he stretches out on 
a big rock and falls asleep. But Broiefort keeps watch; the good 
steed is worried, he knows that the French are approaching. Soon
he smells the wind and begins to neigh: he smelled the enemy. 
Exhausted from fatigue, his master is still sleeping. Broiefort paws
and neighs, so much so that the whole valley resounds with the 
din he makes. It's a waste of time, the Dane sleeps too deeply. So 
the good steed seizes between his teeth the collar of his master's 
hauberk and shakes with all his strength the inert warrior. In one 
bound, the Dane is on his feet. Stunned again, he looks around 
him: he sees, at the entrance of the valley, helmets that blaze in 
the fires of the setting sun, he recognizes Charlemagne and his
barons.

	Before he had time to lace up his helm, the French are 
upon him; fourteen knights all attack him at the same time. The 
Dane jumps into the saddle and pulls Courtain out of his scabbard;
the sword shines in the sun like lightning. Ogier spins around him
and several knights fall dead or wounded, the others move aside. 
Clear, Broiefort leaves like a line and follows at a gallop the 
narrow path that runs along the valley. The emperor sees his 
enemy who once again eludes him; angry, he exclaims: "After him,
knights!" and the pursuit resumes. 

For long hours, the good steed gallops; little by little he manages 
to put some distance between his master and his pursuers. He 
finally arrives under the walls of Pavia and stops in front of the 
main door. "Open the door and lower the bridge!" shouts the 
Dane to the lookout.

	"No," replies the watchman. "I know you well, you are 
Ogier the Dane; our king Didier has given the order not to let you 
enter the city."

	"God who sits high and sees far," said the Dane, "has there 
ever been a more cowardly host, a traitor more despicable than 
this Didier? Beautiful Lord God, what will become of me now?"

	But Broiefort has already resumed his mad dash through 
the night. The moon rises, the wind freshens. Ogier is so tired that
his temples are throbbing; ringing fills his ears, he no longer hears
the trampling of French horses, but every time he turns his head, 
he sees the shining helms and sparkling spears of his enemies. His
loneliness overwhelms him; is he not banished from the empire, 
hated by all the cavaliers? In the whole world, he no longer has a 
friend. A single thought fills his battered brain, and grows from 
moment to moment: they killed Baudouin, his proud young son; 
he must avenge him by sacrificing all the men he will meet on his 
way. And above all, he must find Charlot, the murderous coward,
and kill him with his own hand. Ogier swears an oath on Broiefort
his steed, and on Courtain his good sword.

	The wind freshens, the gray dawn makes the moon pale.
Bathed in sweat, Broiefort is still running; but the noble steed 
trembles in all his limbs; Ogier understands that he cannot last 
long. He swears to kill, before dying, all those who are dear to 
Charlemagne. Suddenly, he sees ahead two pilgrims; with bags 
over their shoulders and bourdons in hand, they walk in the dew.
Ogier recognizes Ami and Amile, the inseparable companions, 
returning from the Holy Land. They are valiant barons of 
Charlemagne who love him like brothers. Blinded by rage and
hatred, the Dane exclaims, "Stop, knights, you don't go any 
further! To cause Charlemagne pain, I will kill you with my sharp 
sword." Appalled, the pilgrims stop; they don't have any weapons:
how can they defend themselves? They ask for mercy, but Ogier is
mad; he draws his sword and cuts off the heads of the two noble 
counts, then he resumes his course. Looking behind him, he sees
Charlemagne and his barons coming, he sees them stop near the 
two corpses and he is satisfied with his work.

	The French knights wring their hands and are in deep 
mourning. "God!" said the emperor, "The Dane makes my life 
bitter, he kills all my best barons, I curse him." Then he calls 
Renier of Pont-Élie, Hernaut of Nantes and the Duke Raimbaud of
Frize: "Take these counts, French barons, and bury them at 
Mortara."

	"At your pleasure, fair sir,” reply the knights. They are 
therefore going to Mortara, with a great company of barons; they 
have mass sung there and they bury the two counts at one acre of 
distance from each other. But God performed a miracle in their 
favor: the tombs of Ami and Amile drew nearer and the two 
faithful companions were united in death as they had been in life.

	However, Charlemagne continues the pursuit with a large 
procession of knights. At each town, the French mount new 
destriers, while Ogier always rides on Broiefort; the valiant 
animal wears itself out, its course slows down. Sometimes the 
Dane in despair turns against his enemies and kills some of them. 
Three days and three nights pass, Broiefort is exhausted and his 
master sees the death that awaits him; he confesses his sins aloud,
he implores the divine mercy. "God," he whispers, "true and just 
father, console me in your pity." Ogier looks up, he sees in the 
middle of a large marsh a castle with high crenellated walls, 
whose drawbridge is lowered. The knight spurs his horse; with a 
last effort the animal crosses the bridge. The Dane closes and 
locks the door, then, his naked sword in hand, he crosses the
courtyard and climbs the steps that lead to the grand hall. He 
meets a bailiff. 

	"Get back, vassal," exclaims the servant, "wait until my lord
has eaten. Out of here!" Ogier pierces him with his sword.

	But the noise of the struggle brings all those who were in 
the room; Ogier cuts off their heads before they have time to draw
their weapons. He throws the corpses out of the windows into the
moat, then he goes through the castle in search of food. There is 
plenty of salted meat, bread, wine, and for his steed, hay and oats.
After giving food and drink to Broiefort, he goes back up to the 
grand hall where the dinner is finishing cooling on the table; there
are roast cranes, wild ducks, and marsh birds, with flour cakes 
and aged wines. The duke is too tired to eat a lot, but he drinks a 
full setier of wine.

	Charlemagne and his knights arrive in front of the castle; 
they see the moat filled with water, the door closed, the posterns 
locked. They get down off their horses and go around the castle
examining it attentively: with its high keep and its wide walls, it 
seems to taunt the emperor. Soon the Dane appears on the walls,
Charlemagne hails him: "By God! Dane," he exclaims, "it is the 
devil who lodges you. You have there a fine tower and a proud 
castle, but I'll get you out and you'll be hung high and short. God 
alone could save you."

	"You behave like a coward," answers Ogier. "Your son
killed my Baudouin whom I cherished and you banished me and 
hunted me down because I have wanted revenge! You really 
reward me well for all the services that I have rendered to you,
but, by the faith that I owe to the King of heaven, before you 
catch me, I will make you suffer still more!"

	Charlemagne has his tent placed in front of the great gate 
of the castle, while his knights erect theirs all around, the better 
to watch over the Dane. The emperor sends messengers to seek 
reinforcements; before long, a thousand well-armed squires, a 
thousand men-at-arms, and a thousand crossbowmen undertake 
the siege of the place. The attack is sounded, but Naime comes to 
his lord. "Sire," he says to him, "the walls of this castle are high 
and the moat is deep, you'll never take it by assault. See, in 
these swamps, on all sides alders grow; cut them off, sire, and 
throw them into the moat to fill it; let us also throw in all the 
twigs we can find in the surrounding area. We will thus arrive 
without trouble at the foot of the walls. Have the carpenters 
build ten long ladders. Then we'll storm the castle everywhere at 
once and the Dane will not be able to escape us."

	"Very well said,” replied the Emperor.

	So the whole army is busy felling the alders, the willows, 
and bushes that are found in the swamp. Soon the moat is filled 
and they can easily reach the foot of the wall. Ogier is terrified; he
commends himself to God and prepares to repel the attack which 
cannot be delayed. He makes a large supply of stones, planks, and 
beams, and heaps them on the walkway; then, from atop his keep,
he watches events. When he sees the first of the great ladders 
erected, he waits for the attackers, he hurls on them huge stones 
and heavy beams, he makes them stumble and knock each other 
over; in the blink of an eye, a hundred armed men are lying 
pell-mell at the foot of the wall. "Montjoie! Montjoie!" shouts 
Charlemagne furiously; "To the attack, lords, without delay! One 
hundred marks of fine gold and pure silver to whomever enters 
the castle first! For God! Capture for me that Dane who killed our 
best warriors." So they brought up the rams and set against the 
walls two mangonels and two trebuchets; after a few hours, the 
wall began to sag, finally it collapsed over a length of two fathoms.
Behind the breach stood the Dane, drawn sword in hand; he 
looked so proud and resolute that the enemies hesitated to enter 
the place. "To the assault, lords!" shouted Charlemagne. The 
men-at-arms therefore rushed on Ogier, but he cut the heads off 
the first and rolled them over those who came behind; in the blink
of an eye, there were twenty who lay in a heap and the others 
withdrew to reflect. Night was falling, a big storm was coming to 
burst: rain, wind, lightning, and thunder raged like the end of the 
world. "Oh! Lord God," murmured Charlemagne, "doesn't it look 
like you hate me and wish me harm?"

	"Sire," said Naime, "why torment yourself? Ogier will be 
taken tomorrow before vesper; let the castle be carefully guarded
tonight." 

	So they sounded the retreat. But Charlemagne called 
Girard of Vienna, Guy of Blois, the Scottish Gilimer, and Salomon, 
king of the Britons. "Lords," he said to them, "go arm yourselves;
you will watch with me tonight. Mount two thousand men in 
armor; I want them to patrol all around the castle until morning,
so that the Dane cannot escape under the advantage of darkness."

	"At your will, sire," replied the barons.

	As soon as the rain stopped, Charlemagne had two 
thousand candles lighted: they spread such clarity that the whole 
country surrounding seemed aflame. Mounted on Blanchart his 
good steed, his shield at his collar, and Joyeuse, his sword, at his 
side, the emperor personally directed the operations. 

	From the top of his keep, Ogier saw all these preparations 
and he began to cry. He regretted Benoît his squire, and his good 
castle of Castel-Fort which he had so well fortified. "Tomorrow, at
daybreak," he finally said to himself, "I will leave. If Broiefort is in 
good condition, he will take me away; otherwise, I will go on foot.
At the very least, I shall succeed in killing a few more of the 
Emperor's friends, perhaps even killing him." So Ogier goes down 
to the stable where he finds his steed who has just eaten a full bag
of oats. Broiefort recognizes his master, he neighs and scratches 
his foot to show his joy. Ogier runs his hand over the rump and 
flanks. "Horse," he said to him, "you are good and proud, there
was never a beast like you; could you rescue your master 
tomorrow? If you fail me, I no longer have any other recourse: in 
the whole world, there is not a man who loves me, and out there
are several thousand who have sworn my death." The horse 
neighs, scratches his foot, raises his head proudly, rubs it against 
his master's shoulder; you'd swear he understood him. Joyful,
Ogier puts on his saddle, fixes the chanfron on his head, and 
closes the breastplate which protects his chest.

CHAPTER 10 "The siege of Castel-Fort."

The roosters are crowing, dawn is beginning to break. The Dane 
brings out his destrier, gets in the saddle, grabs his lance and his 
shield, noiselessly lowers the drawbridge, then, crossing himself 
and commending himself to God, he comes out of the walls. From 
all sides he sees helms and spears shining; he doesn't know which
direction to take. He therefore spurs Broiefort and leaves the 
bridle on his neck; the good steed rushes forward like a deer in 
front of the greyhounds. Alas! Bérard of Montdidier and his 
company of four hundred knights saw the fugitive. They utter 
cries that alarm the whole army. In a moment Ogier is surrounded
by a cloud of enemies. He kills several, is himself wounded, and so
is his steed. He defends himself so desperately that several barons
weep with pity: some are cousins and close relatives of the Dane. 
God comes to his aid, his adversaries retreat for a moment, 
Broiefort resumes his momentum, and Ogier is saved.

	Broiefort slides down a rocky slope where no one can 
follow him, then he goes at a gallop along a narrow valley. God, 
how he flies! Charlemagne on Blanchart, spear raised, gonfalon
in the wind, rushes in pursuit of the Dane, and all his barons 
gallop behind him. Towards the middle of the day, Ogier, who 
stayed one step ahead of his pursuers, realizes that he has other 
enemies before him and on all sides. "Holy Mary," he whispers, 
"pray to your son Jesus that he will put my soul in paradise today, 
because I see that my time has come..." Then he adds: "Whatever 
happens, I will die fighting." So he throws himself at the knights
who come to meet him, and proudly defends himself. He kills 
Godefroy of Lusignan, Thiébaut of Blois, Guy the German, and the 
Duke of Austria; the others retreat. To discover where he is, Ogier
climbs a hill on Broiefort: then he sees far away his castle of 
Castel-Fort which stands on a high rock and he heaves a deep 
sigh. Recovering courage, he spurs his steed, who rushes in the 
direction of the castle, but the pack of enemies pursuing him 
grows moment by moment; will the valiant duke arrive in his 
fortress?

	Lords, I want to talk to you now about the squire Benoît, 
who guarded the fief of Ogier during his absence.

	Benoît goes up to the keep to see if everything is in order 
in the area. He sees for leagues around armed men riding in all 
directions; he notices on their shields the azure and the royal coat
of arms of France; on the banners and pennons fluttering in the 
wind, the arms of many French barons. A little closer he 
recognizes his master, mounted on Broiefort launched at a gallop.
"God!" he said to himself, "the Lombards are defeated and the 
whole army of Charlemagne pursues the Dane. Holy Mary, save 
him!" He descends in haste from his tower: "Knights and 
men-at-arms," he cried, "arm yourselves! Unless God helps him, 
our lord is lost: the King of France is hunting him!" There are 
three hundred men-at-arms in the castle; a hundred stay there to 
guard him, the other two hundred go out at once to save their 
master.

	They see Ogier getting stuck in a swamp. "God!" the duke is
already saying to himself, "I never will survive."

	"Ogier," exclaims Benoît aloud, "I am here, me, Benoît, the 
squire given to you by Berron, and these other knights, my 
companions, are from your garrison; sire, we will die for you, if 
necessary."

	At the hearing of these words, Ogier feels the greatest joy 
he has had in his life, he stops fleeing, he comes to meet Benoît 
and returns his greeting. "Lord," he said, "welcome, I really need 
your help, all my men died in the battle and the French have been 
pursuing me for three days; I lost strength and courage." In this 
moment he sees emerging among the reeds, not far from him, 
Hernaut of Nantes, Guy of Montaigu and Girard of Vienna, 
followed by Charlemagne and two hundred knights: "Here is the 
king's army," exclaims the Dane, "I will no longer flee, but I will
turn against my enemies."

	"Sir, what are you waiting for?" say Benoît and his 
companions, "let's run after the treacherous felons!"

	Ogier spurs Broiefort; followed by his knights, he comes 
out of the swamp. At the sight of this unforeseen obstacle, 
Charlemagne was dismayed. The Dane pulls Courtain out of its 
sheath: "Castel-Fort! Down with the traitors!" he cries. "Cowards, 
I am the Dane you have tormented so much: I will sell my life 
dearly."

	Each of the knights of Ogier chooses his man and pounces 
on him. The attack was so impetuous that many French fall. "God,"
said Charlemagne, "what are these devils who are killing my 
men? Montjoie! Strike, French!"

	Charles and his men begin to falter, but suddenly Ogier 
looks up and sees the bulk of the Emperor's army emerging from a
valley; there are indeed a hundred thousand men arriving. He
rallies his warriors and rides at their head in the direction of his 
castle; some barons of Charlemagne precede him and a fierce fight
engages around the entrance and the drawbridge. The hundred 
men-at-arms who had remained to defend the place came out; the 
blows are raining, the blood is flowing. Finally, Ogier and his 
valiant companions succeed in crossing the bridge, which they 
raise, and they lock the gates carefully. The Dane swears that he 
will not give up the game until they have demolished his tower
which stands so proudly on the high rock. He knows that his 
fortress is impregnable, but he fears starvation for his small 
garrison.

	Castel-Fort is located on a steep rock, at the entrance of a 
narrow gorge. At the foot of the rock stretches on one side a 
muddy swamp; on the other, a wide and tumultuous torrent rolls 
its muddy and deep waters. The perimeter wall encloses a small 
town in the middle of which springs a fresh fountain; the water 
which escapes from it turns the wheels of three mills which do 
not stop neither summer nor winter. It's a position like no other: 
the Dane and his three hundred knights will be able to hold it for
a long time. Charlemagne has his camp pitched; He has decided to
take his enemy dead or alive, even if he spends several years 
besieging him...

	The Emperor summons Malrin, the most clever of his 
engineers. "Can you take this castle for me?" he said. "The day he 
surrenders, you will have a thousand marcs of fine gold and 
twenty prized steeds."

	"Sire, I will get to the end of it; you will see me demolish 
even the square tower, although it is all marble. Let us bring the 
carpenters!" So the carpenters are assembled; they number more
than three hundred, in addition to the Lombard laborers of which
there are nearly four thousand. They cut down all the trees in the 
area and build in front of the entrance to Castel-Fort an immense 
wooden tower, seven stories high. They can ascend the tower by a
wide and convenient staircase, it is covered with a roof and well 
framed with wattled branches and laden with soil to protect the 
combatants. A thousand knights and a hundred and seventy 
archers are stationed there: from there they dominate the 
courtyard of the castle and the town square. All together they fire 
on the garrison of Ogier; as soon as anyone moves, bolts and 
arrows darken the air. The engineer had Greek fire made 
according to a recipe once given to him by an old Saracen king. 
This fire contains sulfur and quicksilver; neither wine nor water 
can put it out; this requires moist soil and vinegar, things which
the besieged do not have. When they see the houses of the town 
in flames, they take refuge underground with their steeds; they 
let everything burn which is flammable and only return when the 
fire has burned itself out for lack of fuel. Castel-Fort was built by 
the Saracens: all the mortar was steeped in boiled blood, 
according to their custom; so he fears neither catapult nor any 
other engine of war, but the emperor does not know it.

	The besieged sally out, although they are greatly hampered
by bolts and arrows which, as soon as they show themselves, rain
down on them from the top of the wooden tower. Benoît manages
to catch Greek fire thrown at him by the enemies and send it back
at them; he sets fire to the tower in three places; as it is made of 
wood, it goes up in flames in the twinkling of an eye, and many 
French people perish. Taking advantage of the disarray of the 
enemy, the besieged made a sortie, they killed a large number of 
knights and among them the engineer Malrin.

	Months and years pass, the siege still lasts; on both sides, 
however, they are weary of it. Charles saw so many of his men 
killed! Ogier's garrison is shrinking day by day, but he continues 
to hold on. However, some of his warriors begin to whisper. There
is in the castle a young gentleman from Pavia, named Hardré, 
whom the Dane knighted himself and whom he showered with his
blessings. This treacherous knight verifies the saying that it is 
those who owe us the most who love us the least, because he 
hates the Dane... One morning, Ogier gives the order: "All to arms!
knights, we're going out."

	"Willingly," his men reply.

	So Hardré slips out of the castle and goes to Charlemagne's
pavilion to deliver his master to him. "I will lure Ogier," he said to 
him, "near the defile which is beyond Castel-Fort; place a 
company of men-at-arms there, sire, and while my master is 
engaged in fighting against them, attack him from behind with the 
bulk of your army."

	"If we capture the Dane," said Charles, "you will be well 
rewarded."

	The sortie takes place, the treacherous traitor Hardré 
affirms to Ogier that he saw a small troop of Frenchmen heading
towards the valley from which the torrent emerges: nothing will 
be easier than to slaughter them all. The Dane does not suspect 
any betrayal; he could, however, have suspected it, for after 
having advised him so well, Hardré asked to be one of the ten 
knights who remained in the castle to guard it. Ogier therefore 
goes off to give battle to the French hiding in the defile; he finds a 
thousand instead of a handful. The melee is terrible: however the 
Dane and his warriors have the upper hand. But suddenly Benoît 
turns his head and sees the whole army of Charlemagne behind 
him. "We are betrayed," he cries, and he runs to take refuge with
his master, like a child who, in his fright, seeks help from his 
mother.

	"Benoît," said Ogier, weeping with pity, "our misfortune is 
too great. However, put our trust in God and defend ourselves at 
the point of our swords. As long as I'm alive, I will help you."

	Ogier and his warriors may defend themselves like devils,
but how could they hold out against several thousand? Inch by
inch they approach the castle, in the hope of still being able to
enter it; one after another they fall pierced by their enemies.
Soon the Dane has only his squire around him, with a few knights.
Ogier cries for his valiant companions: "My good friends," he 
moaned, "I commend you to Jesus; may he put your souls in his
paradise!"

	"Don't bemoan our companions, sire," said Benoît, 
"because the same fate awaits us. Behold death descending on us; 
let us know how to die as brave knights!" The desperate struggle 
continues.

	Finally, Ogier finds himself at the edge of the torrent which
he has crossed higher up almost without suspecting it; on the 
other bank stands his castle, at the top of the tower the few 
guards he has left there watch over. If he could cross the torrent 
he would be safe, but the water is deep and the current rushing. 
The Dane is alone, all his companions have perished; he looks at 
the black and noisy water which passes more quickly than an 
arrow: "God," he says, "I commend myself to you," and he throws 
his horse into the river. Broiefort makes a few huge leaps, then he
lets himself sink in the water. Then God performs a miracle: the 
water calms down for a moment; the good steed succeeded in 
landing at the foot of the rock of Castel-Fort, the guards 
descended in all haste from the tower, they opened a postern, 
received Ogier and put him to safety. The noble count mourns his 
valiant companions and his squire Benoît, who was very dear to 
him; he is so sad that he is afraid of losing his senses.

CHAPTER 11 "The traitors at the gallows."

Listen, lords, to the continuation of my song; you will learn how 
fate overwhelmed the good Dane, and into what great misery he 
fell...

	Charlemagne was very irritated at not having succeeded in 
taking his adversary, dead or alive. Many of his best barons had 
perished in the struggle, mourning filled his heart, he ardently 
desired revenge. He therefore announced a ban throughout the 
country, calling upon townsfolk and laborers, all those who 
wanted to profit, to come and join the army. More than ten 
thousand came, each armed with a hoe or a steel pick. The 
emperor ordered them to dig deep trenches to try to divert the 
river, but it flowed in a bed of rock harder than iron or steel, and 
this enormous labor remained in vain. Then the emperor, with 
rage in his soul, ordered the carpenters to build broad and high 
platforms mounted on four wheels, and to place them in the 
swamp, so that the combatants could cross it easily. This was 
done and the French squeezed Castel-Fort closer. Ogier was 
greatly concerned about it; every night he himself stood guard on
the walls. For his part, the Emperor kept watch over five hundred 
knights who took turns and whom he had instructed to make 
rounds by the light of torches, for he was greatly afraid that the 
Dane would escape from him again.

	One evening, Ogier, exhausted with fatigue, was preparing 
with a sigh to climb the walls, when Hardré came to him. "Sire," 
he said to him, "you cannot last long; go and rest, I will keep 
watch. I swear to you that I will keep watch; my brother Gontier, 
Ysoart, Hugues and Bérenger will stay with me; our other 
companions may also agree to help us. You will go to sleep, while 
we watch the walls and gates closely. He spoke well and the Dane 
finally consented to go to bed; the unfortunate man was so tired 
that he immediately fell asleep. So Hardré, the treacherous traitor,
and his brother Gontier, who was hardly better than him, 
gathered their companions on the walls: "Lords," said Hardré to 
them, "for five years the Emperor has kept us besieged in this 
castle and our wheat supplies are nearly exhausted. We were 
three hundred when the siege began, now we are only ten. How 
will this end? By our death, of course, because it cannot be 
otherwise. If you want to believe me, we will send a messenger to 
the Emperor: we will offer to deliver the Dane and this castle to 
him, on condition that he let us live."

	"Your advice is reasonable," replied the other knights, "and
we are willing to follow it. It is appropriate to do evil, when it is to
avoid worse evils."

	"Lords," resumed Hardré, "let us seize Ogier's arms and 
the keys to the castle."

	Two of the traitors slip into Ogier's room; they very gently 
take away from him Courtain, his good sword, which he had put 
under his pillow, then they take his helmet and his hauberk which
he had placed near him and the keys which were at his bedside. 
Then the treacherous felons will open the great gate of the castle 
and lower the drawbridge. Hardré and Bérenger leave to go to 
Charlemagne's tent; they take a narrow path which leads them 
straight to the foot of the rock. There they fall into the hands of 
the French lookouts who seize them and bind them tightly. "Pity! 
lords," they cry, "Do us no harm, but lead us without delay to the 
Emperor, to whom we want to announce news that will make his 
heart leap with contentment."

	Hearing these words, the archers untie them and lead 
them to the royal pavilion. There they find the seneschal who 
leads them to the bed where Charles sleeps, two large torches at 
his bedside. The seneschal shakes the pillow, the emperor opens 
his eyes and raises his head, the traitors kneel. "Sire," they say, 
"we have come from Castel-Fort to offer to deliver Ogier to you: 
this time the thing is certain, he cannot escape you. We are now 
only ten knights with him, and we have all sworn to hand over the
Dane and the castle to you. We forced the duke to bed; he is 
sleeping deeply, we have stolen his armor and his sword, so he 
won't be able to put up any resistance. We have left open the 
great gate of the castle and all the posterns; the drawbridge is 
lowered, our companions await your men there and will serve as 
their guides. For God! handsome sir, be diligent! Send a thousand 
men-at-arms to seize the person of your enemy."

	Out of himself with joy, Charlemagne gets up and gets 
dressed and puts on shoes. Then he summons Salomon the 
Breton, Thierry of Ardane and Guibert of Rivier to his tent, to 
whom he gives his orders. He has a thousand men armed who 
will accompany them, and he himself sets off to go with them. 
Then they leave the camp and take the road to Castel-Fort. 
Charles is at their head; he swears that the Dane will be hanged 
before sunrise.

	However, Ogier is sleeping soundly. But now a dream is 
tormenting him and he is fidgeting on his bed. He dreams that he 
is hunting in a deep, dark wood. Suddenly a thousand wild boars 
attack him: gaping jaws, they approach to devour him. At the 
same time a giant clad in iron arrives, followed by five hundred 
leopards who throw themselves on the hunter and try to tear off 
his limbs. Fear awakens the good Dane: "Holy Mary, come to the 
aid of your man!" he exclaims aloud. He crosses himself twice and
puts his hand under his pillow to take his sword. Not finding it, he
jumps out of bed, hastily dresses and searches for his armor, but 
helm and hauberk, spurs and shield have vanished! "God! What 
happened?" said the duke. He runs to the stable to make sure his 
steed hasn't disappeared too. Broiefort is safe and sound.

	There was a small window in the stable which opened 
onto the countryside, and which was not closed. Ogier pricks up 
his ears: he clearly hears the trampling of horses and the clanking
of armor. The light flashes in his mind: he is betrayed! He tears a 
large beam from the wall and rushes towards the large door 
which he finds open; he sees his knights, the treacherous traitors, 
standing on both sides, and the French who are already entering 
the drawbridge. "Betrayed! Betrayed!" they exclaim on seeing the
Dane. With rage in his heart, Ogier twirled his lever and ran on 
the traitors. Ysoart fell first, then it was the turn of Hardré and 
Gontier. He then threw himself at the French with such violence 
that he killed several of them. Faced with this madman, the others
recoil in horror.

	Here Ogier raises the bridge and closes the door, then he 
turns against the seven traitors who still remain alive; before they
had time to recover from their surprise, they were all dead. 
Without losing a moment, Ogier erects gallows at the top of one of
his towers, one by one he hoists the corpses there and hangs them
fully armed; there they are, swaying mournfully in the wind and 
their armor tolling their death knell as they clash. In the morning 
the French will see them and they will tremble.

CHAPTER 12 "Alone against all."

Charlemagne and his warriors return defeated to their camp. 
Ogier remains alone in his castle; he no longer has a squire or a 
man-at-arms, he has no one left to help him, except Jesus in 
heaven, and on earth Broiefort, his good steed. The duke weeps 
with desolation, but he cannot abandon himself to despair; he 
must work so as not to die of hunger. He has in the yard a well, a 
rope, a bucket and a winch; in the village are the mills, and in the 
attic a little wheat. He goes to get his wheat. He grinds it, sifts his 
flour, kneads his dough, heats his oven, turns his bread, puts it on 
a shovel and puts it in the oven. He is also his own head chef; he 
puts the water on a tripod to heat it, he boils the herbs that grow 
in his vegetable garden, and he roasts the few birds he manages to
kill with a bow and arrow. He goes to fetch the wine from his 
cellar, sets the table and sits there alone. Often, after giving 
Broiefort his ration of hay and oats, the duke does not have the 
courage to leave him, the solitude weighs so heavily on him.

	However, Ogier tells himself that if the French come to 
know that he is alone in resisting them, they will attack him in 
such a way as to make defense impossible. He therefore takes all 
the beams and all the planks he can find; with his sword he carves
them into a human form. He cuts Broiefort's tail and mane, from 
which he makes beards and mustaches that he sticks to his 
wooden men. He clothes them with hauberks and helms, 
suspends shields around their necks, puts battle-axes in their 
hands, and sets them up on the wall. When the French see them, 
they are quite moved: "God!" exclaims Charlemagne, "what devil
sent these reinforcements to the Dane? I had been told that he 
had lost all his men and was alone in his castle, but here are 
robust warriors who must have strong arms."  The Emperor calls 
his archers: "Take," he said to them, "your sharpest arrows and 
kill all these men-at-arms!" The archers fired repeatedly, but bolts
and arrows seemed to have no effect on the knights of Ogier: they
remained motionless at their posts.

	"They are proud and courageous, the men of the Dane," 
exclaims the Emperor, "they did not move under the hail of 
arrows. Bring me my weapons; I want to take a closer look at 
them." Charles mounts his steed and goes to the castle gate. 
"Barons," he said, raising his voice, "you are very haughty not to 
deign to answer me; do you know that I am the king of France? I 
am powerful, I can give you castles, rich towns, great honors, 
while your lord can do nothing for you." The wooden men didn't 
say a word, and Charles went back to his tent very sorry.

	"What did the Dane's barons say?" Naime asked him. "Will 
they surrender?"

	"They despise me, Naime, they haven't uttered a word, 
they haven't lowered their great axes out of courtesy. But they 
won't stop me from taking the Dane. If I stay here seven more 
years, I'll hang him from his tower!"

	"Cursed be that Ogier!" murmur the French.

	The siege continues, it has already lasted seven years. The 
day finally comes when the Dane no longer has a fish in his ponds,
no more herbs in his vegetable patch, no more cheese in his 
cellars, no more animals in his cowsheds and stables, except 
Broiefort, his noble steed. The duke remains four days without 
eating or drinking; he is so hungry that he is pale and haggard. He
looks pitifully at his weapons. "There's only one thing left for me 
to do," he said to himself, "and that's to die proudly." Ogier draws 
his sword from its scabbard: "Courtain," he says, "my good sword,
the best in the whole world, this evening, as soon as it gets dark, I 
will go to Charlemagne's tent to kill him if I can. Men-at-arms and 
squires will no doubt assail me, we'll see if you can overcome 
them."

	He comes to Broiefort and raises his four feet one after the
other, to see if he is well shod, and he replaces the missing nails. 
He gives him hay, caresses him, and talks to him for a long time. 
Going back up to the great hall, he sits down in the embrasure of 
a window; he has nothing to do, time is wearing him out. He gazes
sadly at his tattered clothes... God! how ugly he has become, the 
proud Ogier! He's skin and bones, his hair is long and tangled; he 
wears his hauberk over a torn pellison, his golden spurs are 
attached to his bare feet, he feels weak and his hands are shaking.

	Desperate, he gets up; taking a spear in his hand and 
girding Courtain on his left side, he descends from the great hall, 
opens a small postern, leaves noiselessly and slips along the walls
at the edge of the steep rock. he sees the camp of the French 
stretching out in the distance, he sits down on the stone and 
begins to think aloud; it's a habit he picked up in his solitude. 
"The King of France puts me to great shame," he said; "once he 
hunted me like a wild beast, and now he holds me here as in a 
prison. I will perish here of hunger; I might as well die fighting. I'll
go to the Emperor's tent tonight and I'll kill him... No, I'll go to 
Charlot's tent: I'll cut his throat. I will thus avenge Baudouin, and 
Charlemagne will be in great mourning."

	A few French squires had come to the foot of the rock to 
seek grass for their horses. The rock being steep, Ogier could not 
see them, and, as they walked barefoot in the marsh, no sound 
revealed their presence; so they overheard the words of the Dane.
Terrified, they fled through the swamp, where they all lost their 
way and got stuck, except for one who reached Charlot's tent. 
"Sire," he said to him, "we were several squires who were looking 
at the foot of the rock of Castel-Fort for grass for our horses; we 
heard Ogier the Dane who missed his son Baudouin, he 
complained of having no more provisions and uttered threats 
against you."

	"I don't blame him for it," said Charlot, "I committed a 
dreadful crime when I lost my temper and killed Baudouin. 
Barons, bring me my arms, I will speak to the Duke Ogier; if I can, 
I will confer with him, then I will make him return his fiefs; 
perhaps my father will forgive him for love of me."

CHAPTER 13 "Archbishop Turpin's oath."

Ogier returns to his castle and climbs its walls. He sees a 
marvelously armed knight who arrives at a gallop on his courser 
and stops in front of the great door. The knight hails him: "Are 
you Ogier the Dane?" he said. 

	"I am Ogier," replied the duke, "and you, who are you, who
have such fine arms? Did you come to make battle with Ogier, or 
to pay homage to him?"

	"I am Charlot, the Emperor's son. I know that you hate me 
because of your son whom I killed once out of great madness. I 
was then young and thoughtless. I committed a crime by killing 
your son; it was the devil who pushed me to it. Not a day goes by 
that I don't regret it: I am sad about it in the morning, at vesper I 
think about it again. By God! Ogier, don't be pitiless. I killed your 
son, it is true, but I will make amends to you; the people of your 
lineage will judge for themselves what it is appropriate for me to 
give you, then I will beg my father to return your fiefs to you and I
will go on a pilgrimage overseas, to the Holy Sepulcher. 

	"God confound you, Charlot!" exclaims Ogier, "I will never 
make peace with you, because you have done me too much harm 
and I have sworn to kill you to avenge Baudouin."

	"I'm sorry, Dane. But tell me, just now when you left your 
walls, what was on your mind? Faith of God! don't hide it from 
me, I swear to you that I will not accuse you of it to Charlemagne 
and that my tent will not be better guarded for it."

	"What devil told you that?" says Ogier. "Since you promise 
not to betray me, I will tell you what I have resolved. Charlot of 
France, I cannot bear your sight; you remind me of the death of 
my son Baudouin, the child of my dear lady, Béatrix with the 
bright face. I cannot stay in this castle because I have no more 
provisions. So here is what I was deciding while I was sitting at 
the foot of my walls. I told myself that I would go and cut your 
throat tonight while you were sleeping, when you were resting on
your bed, in your tent, the position of which I tried to discover 
from your banner. If I don't find you, Charlot, I'll kill Charlemagne,
because one of you will die for my son before I leave this world."

	Charlot goes back sheepishly to the French camp and Ogier
goes to lie down on his bed until nightfall, in order to forget, if 
possible, the hunger that torments him. Charlemagne sees his son 
coming and goes to meet him. "What does the Dane say?" asks the
emperor. "Will he surrender?"

	"Sire, no, he hates us to death, and his courage is untamed."
True to his promise, Charlot said nothing of Ogier's project. He 
goes back to his tent and sits down to table with his knights, but 
he eats nothing. Little by little the night comes.  "Lords," said 
Charlot to his companions, "go to bed, I'm going to rest, too."

	Now Charlot did not know that the squire had heard Ogier 
utter specific threats and that his knights were resolved to pass 
the night under arms around his tent. Charlemagne's son 
trembles, he believes his last hour has come. "I have a fever," he 
said to his chamberlain, "prepare me two beds, so I can change if I
can't sleep." So they prepare two beds for him and Charlot goes to
bed in one of the two. "Maybe," he thought, "the Dane will hit the 
other one and I'll escape, but I don't have much hope." Suddenly 
he hears the lookouts blowing their horns: have they seen the 
Dane? Soon a great noise very close to his tent warns him that 
armed men are watching over him; he regains his courage.

	However, Ogier saddled Broiefort and finished fitting 
himself, then he opened the door and crossed the drawbridge. 
Then he turns to take a last look at his beautiful castle: 
"Castel-Fort," he said with a sigh, "I commend you to God, the 
king of glory. May he who will hold you henceforth never 
experience scarcity or poverty! May he not be unhappy within 
your walls, as I have been!..." The Dane kicks Broiefort with his 
spurs; the good horse is so happy to find himself in the open 
country that he leaps thirteen feet in the air. Thanks to the 
marvelous pace of his destrier, Ogier avoids the watch, eludes the 
knights who rush in his tracks when he is already far away, 
arrives at Charlot's tent, drives his spear several times into the 
empty bed he thinks is occupied, and flees, shouting with all his 
might: "You are dead, Charlot, and my son is finally avenged!"

	But the whole camp has been alarmed by the horns of the 
lookouts, five hundred barons are already riding in the footsteps 
of Broiefort who is running like a deer; their number increases 
from moment to moment. "Help, lords," they cry, "help! It was the 
Dane who came to assault Charlot in his bed. If he escapes us, we 
will be forever dishonored." Ogier finds a river in his way, 
Broiefort crosses it with a leap. The French cannot cross it, they 
are obliged to follow the bank, they cannot find a ford: their 
enemy is safe. 

	Charlemagne twists his fists and pulls his beard, his anger 
and grief are painful to see. "Lords," he said after riding for a long 
time, "we won't catch the Dane, I don't know where to look for 
him."

	"He's a devil," reply the barons.

	"Sirs, we are not far from the church where Saint Volto is 
at this moment; let's visit it."

	"With pleasure, handsome sir."

	The French therefore head for Lucca. The Saint Volto was 
a very large wooden carving of the Christ on the crucifix. The eyes 
of the crucified, wide open and made of crystal, gave him a 
terrible aspect. He was dressed and undressed as was wanted; in 
great ceremonies, he was covered with rich stuffs and precious 
stones. Charles offers him a magnificent piece of silk and thirty 
marks of fine gold and silver, and he begs him to send great 
shame to the Dane. The emperor and his knights then return to 
their camp. "Lords," said Charlemagne, "this war has lasted too 
many years; go find your wives and children. But don't forget 
Ogier the Dane. If I hear that one of my barons has seen him and 
has not seized him to hand him over to me, that baron will be 
hanged or quartered." The French therefore returned to France 
and each went to his fief.

	After riding for a long time, Ogier arrived in the plain of 
Saint-Ajose, which he recognized. He saw it all covered with 
tombs and he thought of Berron, his companion, and all his 
knights. He had eaten nothing, his weakness was increasing, he 
could no longer sit in the saddle; Broiefort, the good steed, was 
weary too. The Dane dismounted near a small stream that flowed 
through a peaceful valley. He took Broiefort's bridle off and let 
him graze freely, then he unlaced his helm and took off his 
hauberk. Then, stretching out on the grass, he fell into a deep 
sleep; when the horse had grazed well, he too fell asleep.

	Their sleep lasted long hours. In the afternoon, a company 
of knights passed through the valley. It was Turpin, the 
archbishop of Reims, who had left Charlemagne to go to Rome to 
visit the Pope, before returning to France. He saw the destrier, 
then the knight asleep in the middle of the meadow, his weapons 
at his side. "Lords," he said, "this is Ogier the Dane, against whom 
we have been fighting for so many years. Fortunately for us, he is 
unarmed and his marvelous steed sleeps like him. We're going to 
grab the Dane and tie him up. If he held Courtain, his sword, he 
would tear us all to pieces, were we three thousand in number!" 
The knights dismounted from their horses, approached Ogier 
noiselessly, tremblingly took away his weapons, put strong 
hobbles around Broiefort's feet, and proceeded to tie up his 
master. But he wakes up, sees himself surrounded by a swarm of 
enemies, jumps to his feet, knocks down the first knight who 
touches him with a blow of his fist, then he tears off a horse's 
saddle and, using it as a club, he kills several men. However, 
Turpin's companions were too numerous, they surrounded him 
on all sides: weakened by fasting, Ogier could no longer stand up 
to them; his enemies throw him down and bind him tightly.

	"God!" said Turpin, "how I would have liked not to find 
Ogier on my way! If I don't return him to Charlemagne, the 
Emperor will have me hanged, but he's a good knight and he's 
been abused too much; I wish I could save him." 

	Ogier recognizes  Turpin and drags himself up to him. 
"Sire," he asks, "are you going to hand me over to the king? When 
he has me, he will have me quartered; nothing in the world can 
save me from that. I'd rather you put me to death right now."

	"Don't be afraid, Ogier," said Turpin, "I'll take you straight 
to Reims and put you in my prison." So the Dane was hoisted onto 
a springboard, his feet tied under the belly of his mount and, 
giving up the trip to Rome, the whole company took the road to 
France. Arrived at Reims, Turpin had chains riveted to the feet of 
his prisoner and kept him in his palace. Then he sent a messenger
to Charlemagne to announce to him the capture of his enemy. Full
of joy, the Emperor sent word to the Archbishop to send the Dane
to him, so that he could be quartered. But Turpin took pity on 
Ogier: "I will go myself to speak to the king in Paris," he said, and 
set out without delay.

	"Sir Archbishop," said the Emperor on seeing him coming, 
"welcome. Where is Ogier?" 

	Turpin threw himself at Charles's feet. "Sire," he said, "he 
is at Rheims, allow me to keep him there. I will keep him tightly 
imprisoned in a dark dungeon, he will have for his daily ration 
only a quarter of a loaf, a piece of meat and a goblet of water 
mixed with wine. he used to eat like four, so he will not endure 
this diet for long; he will gradually weaken, he will end by dying, 
and you will be rid of your enemy without having dishonored 
yourself by making him perish."

	"I grant it to you, though reluctantly," replied Charles; "but
swear to me that he will be treated as you have just said."

	"I swear it to you, sir."

	Back in Reims, the Archbishop began to think of ways to 
keep his oath without starving Ogier. He called together the 
goldsmiths of the city, entrusted them with all the silver that was 
in his palace and gave them the order to make a huge goblet with 
the capacity of one setier. Then he ordered the bakers to knead a 
loaf every day in which they would put a bushel of wheat, and the 
butchers to cut the oxen in four and the pigs in two. Ogier was 
therefore in no danger of starving. The knights of Reims all went 
to visit the Dane in his dungeon, and Turpin played chess with him
to distract him. He led such a happy life that he was visibly 
fattening.

	Seven years passed slowly. Ogier was still locked up in the 
archbishop's prison; his hair and beard grew white, but his 
strength had not diminished, and in spite of his irons he often 
exercised in his handling of the spear and the sword.

CHAPTER 14 "Charlemagne at bay."

Lords, my song will leave Ogier the good Dane to tell you of the 
misfortunes that fell on gentle France...

	At that time there was a Saracen emir named Bréhier, who 
ruled over Damascus, Babylon and all of North Africa. Having 
learned that Ogier the Dane, the terrible warrior, was dead, for 
this rumor had spread among the Saracens, he judged that the 
time had come to resume the offensive against the French. He 
assembled an innumerable army and put at its head the old 
Ténèbre, the proud Braidimant, Clariant, Embron, Faussaron, 
Corban and about thirty other kings. They were well four hundred
thousand pagans who invaded the emperor's lands. They put 
Germany to fire and sword, then they penetrated into France, 
attacking it from several points at once, devastating Normandy, 
leaving neither tower nor keep standing in all of Lorraine, and 
even entering Aix-la-Chapelle. It was in vain that the French 
performed prodigious feats of valor, nothing stopped the 
victorious march of the Saracens and soon all of Christendom 
began to tremble.

	One day, Charlemagne heard two Frenchmen chatting in
low voices near his tent. "If we had Ogier the Dane in our midst,"
they said, "the pagans would never dare to treat us as they do." 
The Emperor frowned and remained gloomy for long hours.

	Another day a messenger came before him and fell at his 
feet. "Sire," he said, "your barons beg you to recall Ogier the Dane 
to the court, for if he were here we should have victory." 

	The Emperor flew into a violent rage. "From now on," he 
cried, "all who speak the Dane's name before me will be quartered
or hanged on the gallows."

	A few days later, three hundred squires surrounded the 
Emperor's tent and began to shout in chorus: "Ogier! Ogier! 
Ogier!" Charles grew pale with rage: he couldn't have them 
hanged, because there were too many of them. 

	"Sire," said Naime to him, "I have just heard a name 
pronounced which I dare not repeat. It is certain that if this proud
warrior were in our camp, the Saracens would recross the sea."

	"What good are these words, since the Dane is dead?" 
shouted Charlemagne. 

	"Sire," resumed Naime, "I do not believe the valiant duke is 
dead. Turpin still had him in his prison a short time ago. . ."

	Hearing these words, Charlemagne gets up quickly: "If 
Ogier the Dane still lives," he exclaims, "I will pull him out of his 
dungeon, I will grant him his grace and I will restore his fiefs to 
him. Let's go to Reims, lords, without wasting time."

	Charlemagne and Naime, accompanied by twenty thousand
men, therefore hurried to Reims. They stopped their mounts only 
in front of the Archbishop's palace. However, Turpin hastened to 
meet his suzerain: "Sire Archbishop," cried the Emperor, without 
taking the time to greet him, "what is Ogier doing? Is he still 
within your walls? If he is dead, Christianity is lost."

	"Sire, he is starving because of the scarcity we have 
inflicted on him, but his courage is not defeated."

	"Take me to the Dane's prison without delay," said Charles.

	Now Turpin, when he learned of the coming of 
Charlemagne, had hastened to have Ogier transferred to a 
narrow and dark dungeon; this is where the Emperor finds him.
"Ogier," he said as he entered, "are you alive? I am Charles of 
France; I promised battle in your name to Bréhier, the emir of 
the Saracens, the most powerful king there is under heaven.
If you are victorious, all your fiefs will be returned to you, you 
will henceforth have peace with me and I will shower you with 
honors."

	"God confound you!" replies the Dane, "accursed emperor 
who drove me from my lands. Because of you and yours, I have 
lost all joy, my life has been one long suffering. You promise to 
shower me with honors; will you give me back my son Baudouin?
If you don't consent to deliver Charlot to me, so that I keep my 
oath to put him to death, neither will I consent to gird up the 
sword for you; I prefer to die in this prison where I have spent so 
many years that my strength is gone."

	A terrible struggle wages in the heart of Charlemagne: he 
is livid and sweat runs down his forehead. "French Duke," he said 
finally, "do your duty, I will do mine." 

	"Sire, I won't get the better of this Bréhier; I have lived in
idleness for too long. My body has no more vigor."

	"We'll give you," Charles replies, "so much game prepared 
with ground pepper, so much poultry and old wine, that your 
strength will soon return to you."

	The Dane is brought out of his prison and led into the great
vaulted hall of the palace. He extends his arms, he stretches. "I 
believe," he said, "that I can defeat Bréhier." 

	"God, who was buried for us, lend you his help!" 
Charlemagne replies.

	When the Dane had been bathed and provided with clean 
clothes, he appeared almost as handsome as in his youth, fat and 
plump, his limbs well molded. His gaze was proud as an eagle's. 
"Lords," he said to the barons, "I will not go and fight Bréhier 
unless they give me back my good sword Courtain, and my destrier 
Broiefort."
 
	"As for your arms, you will have them," said Turpin. "as for 
Broiefort, I do not know what has become of him; he must have 
been dead for a long time."

	"Alas!" exclaims Ogier, "he was the best horse in the whole 
world," and he mourns so much over his steed that the barons are
filled with pity.

	"King Charles," continues Ogier, "if I do not find a horse I 
can trust, I will not undertake this battle."

	"I have here," replied the Emperor, "Morel, the handsome 
steed which I once took from the Emir Baligant." 

	"Show him to me," says Ogier. The steed is brought to him;
he leans his arm heavily on the animal's rump, which falls to the 
ground. 

	"By God! cried the duke, your horse is worth nothing."

	"Ogier," said Naime, "you will have a good steed: it is 
Pennevaire, the courser that Bertrand took from King Didier." 
They bring him in: he is an animal full of fire and looks superb. 
The duke jumps into the saddle, the horse gives way under the 
weight, and he nearly falls to the ground.

	"I'll go on foot," said Ogier sadly, "since I've lost Broiefort... 
Now, my weapons!"

	At this moment, a canon advances towards Turpin. "Sir 
Archbishop," he said, "I do not believe that Broiefort is dead. I was
with you when you took the Dane prisoner on the way to Rome 
and I noticed his steed, because of its great size and miraculous 
strength. Some time ago, finding myself in Meaux, in the abbey of 
Saint-Faron, I saw a roussin harnessed all alone to a truck loaded 
with blocks of marble for the monastery that is being built there; I
was so amazed at his strength and his resemblance to Broiefort 
that I questioned his master. He told me that the beast had been 
given to him by you more than seven years ago. I think, sire, that 
you should bring this horse to Reims."

	Naime, Turpin and a hundred knights leave immediately 
for Meaux. They arrive at the abbey. Naime sees Broiefort pulling 
a heavy load of rubble, and he recognizes him, although the poor 
steed is all mangy and his tail no longer has hair. Despite his old 
age, Broiefort is more vigorous than three ordinary horses. The 
abbot willingly returned the roussin to Archbishop Turpin, and 
the barons set off again, taking Broiefort with them.

	As soon as the Dane sees his old friend, he throws himself 
on his neck and kisses him, very sorry to see him in such a sorry 
state. He puts his arm on the animal's rump and leans heavily on 
it: the horse does not bend. With his beautiful silk blanket, Ogier 
rubs the bare sides of his steed. "Ha! Broiefort," he said to him, 
"do you remember the days when we fought alone, you and I, 
against our enemies?" Broiefort neighs with joy, he scratches the 
ground with his foot, he rubs his head against his master's 
shoulder, then he kneels in front of him as if to pay him homage. 
Charlemagne and all the barons weep with tenderness. They 
curry Broiefort, they put a gold bridle on him, a saddle adorned 
with jewels, a rich caparison, and he resumes a proud appearance
in spite of his old age. Soon the steed and his master are ready to 
depart; they accompany the Emperor and his barons to Laon, and 
from there all go to the camp which the French have established 
near Étampes.

CHAPTER 15 "The fight interrupted."

Between Paris and Étampes, they find the whole country 
devastated, the towns and villages in ruins, the castles still 
smoking; finally, they perceive a vast plain covered with a cloud 
of tents: it is the camp of the Saracens. A short distance away, the 
French established theirs. The knights and men-at-arms receive 
the Dane with great cries of joy, only Charlemagne is doleful; he 
comes to Ogier and puts his arm familiarly around his neck. 
"Handsome sir Duke," he said to him, "what are you thinking of?"

	"Sire, withdraw your arm, I have not forgotten my son 
Baudouin, nor the oath I swore to avenge him by killing Charlot." 
The king is distressed, his barons do not know what advice to give
him. 

	Finally Naime advances in tears. "Sire," he said, "have pity on
your people, who are in great distress. If Ogier does not fight for us, 
Bréhier will put you to death, you and all your family; Charlot will
not escape the massacre, so he will die in either case."

	"I will obey you, Naime," said the old king, sobbing.

	The Emperor sends for his son. Charlot has never looked 
more handsome, his clear smile reveals his beautiful teeth, his 
eyes shine, his hair looks like gold. When his father tells him that 
he must fight the Dane, which is a sentence of certain death, 
Charlot turns pale; but he is not a coward, he utters no 
complaints. He confessed to the archbishop, who gave him 
absolution, then, in a small chapel nearby, he listened devoutly to 
mass. Charlemagne and his barons weep; while saying the service,
the priests also weep. When they left the chapel, the Emperor 
took his son by the hand and came to Ogier. "Good sir," he said, 
"here is your enemy who comes to expiate his fault. However, 
noble Duke, if you leave my son to me, I will give you Chartres, 
Étampes and Le Mans, Hainaut, Brabant and Vermandois, as well 
as all of Flanders." Ogier doesn't answer a word. 

	Charlot throws himself at the duke's feet. "Sir," he said, 
"for the love of God, I once again implore your forgiveness. I told 
you not long ago that I repent every day of having killed 
Baudouin. I consent to become your liege, sire; I'll do all the 
humiliating work you throw at me, but let me fight the Saracens 
until they go back overseas." The Dane remains silent.

	All the knights wring their hands or clap their palms in 
mourning; the groans and cries of pain make such a noise that 
even thunder would not have been heard. The highest barons of 
France kneel before Ogier; old Naime of Bavaria becomes their 
mouthpiece. "For God! Ogier, do not persist in your cruel design. 
See, all the high barons of France are here at your feet; folded 
hands, they beg you in tears to spare the son of our king. If you kill
him, do you believe that Jesus Christ, our almighty father, will 
forgive you? You will put our sweet France in mourning, you will 
bring happiness to the Saracens, our enemies. Remember, Ogier, 
God who out of pity for us was born of the Virgin, lived poor and 
suffered a horrible death. In the name of his mercy, I summon you
to show mercy."

	"I won't," replies the Dane through gritted teeth.

	The fight begins; in despair, the emperor fled so as not to 
see it. He runs to take refuge in the little chapel; he throws 
himself on the ground on the cold flagstones, in front of the altar. 
"Beautiful sir God, powerful king," he cried, "keep my child! Sweet
Jesus, our Lord, at whose birth the beasts and the birds rejoiced 
with great joy, you who were lying in a manger, while the ox that 
took its food there bowed humbly before you and gently covered 
you with straw, you who forgave Mary Magdalene her sins and 
raised Lazarus from the tomb, forgive me if I ever did anything 
contrary to you, and keep my child! Don't let the Dane kill him for 
me, sire!" Three times the emperor swooned; each time, when he 
comes to himself, he goes back to praying.

	However, the combat turns against Charlot; soon Ogier 
brandished his sword and prepared to strike him to death. 
Suddenly, lightning from the sky descends from the clouds, like a 
blazing fire, between Ogier and Charlot, but neither of them feels 
any harm, for it is an angel who wields it. The barons recognize 
Saint Michael and throw themselves on their knees. The archangel
seized the sword by the hilt. "Ogier," he said, "you shall not kill 
your king's son, for God forbids it. Give him a single blow with the
flat of your sword and God will hold you free from the reckless 
and foolish oath you once made. This very day will be crowned in 
paradise the soul of your child. Take your arms and go fight the 
disbelieving heathen; go boldly, God the Almighty King will help 
you."

	The holy angel ascends to heaven and the Duke Ogier gives
Charlot a blow which makes him fall backwards; Charlot thanks 
God for having saved him from death, the barons give thanks to 
Heaven. Hearing the cries of joy, Charlemagne runs up. "Dane," he
says, "give full and complete forgiveness to my son."

	"I grant it to him, fair sir king; henceforth I will hold him 
free from the death of my child, and I will serve you faithfully. I 
forgive you for all the harm you have done me; it's your turn, sire,
forgive me for having killed so many of your knights." In front of 
the whole baronage, the Emperor and Ogier embrace. Joy reigns 
in the French army.

	At this moment insults resound in the camp of the 
Saracens against the enemy cowards who cannot find a champion
to send against Bréhier. The champion of the pagans advances 
almost to the tents of the French and Ogier can contemplate him 
at his leisure. He is giant in size and as ugly as he is tall; one 
cannot see him without trembling, and the Dane himself is 
troubled. Yet he responds to the pagan's insults by challenging 
him in turn.

	Charlemagne and Naime arm Ogier; they bring him his 
steed, so covered with iron that it cannot be touched, and Naime 
holds the stirrup for him. "Hey! Broiefort," said Ogier, "I must love
you above all those barons, you got me out of so much trouble! If 
God allows us to escape from the Saracen, I will put you to rest, 
you will drag no more burdens, you will be well fed and well 
housed..." He does not know, the good Dane, that he will not bring
back his horse alive: the pagan traitor Bréhier will kill it... Ogier is 
ready to leave, he comes to Charlemagne. "Sire, give me 
permission to leave, and you, go pray for me." 

	"Ogier," said Charles, raising his hand to make the sign of 
the cross over him, "may he who has all power on earth give you 
the power to avenge my honor and save Christendom, and may he
bring you back safe and sound."

CHAPTER 16 "Ogier the Dane delivers France."

Ogier goes up the hill. Under a large fir tree at the edge of 
the forest, he finds the Saracen champion busy trapping birds to 
pass the time. "Who owns this wood?" he asks the pagan.

	"It belongs to me, sir, and all of France. My name is Bréhier,
I am king of the Saxons, emir of Babylon, and of Spain, and of all 
Africa. From Aix-la-Chapelle to Mont-Saint-Michel I devastated 
the country of Charles, and I destroyed all the churches there. If 
the emperor and his people do not deny their God and embrace 
the law of Mahomet, I will have them hanged or quartered. I have 
no fear of them, since the Dane is dead... And you, who are you?"

	"My name is Ogier; I am the son of Godfrey the Dane. You 
learned how to lie well! But, know this, you will never seize sweet
France, you will never hang the French, nor use them for your 
entertainment!... What beautiful birds you caught there! The 
Emperor tells you through me that he wishes to have them, the 
black ones and the white ones; our chef will pluck them and roast
them, our barons will eat them with pleasure."

	"You are mocking me, knight. But I'm dumbfounded: are 
you really the Dane? Germans, Lorrainers, Bretons, Normans, all 
told me that he died three years ago.

	"They probably told you that as a joke. I'll be dead when 
you kill me, not before; take up your arms."

	"I would gladly fight you, but I certainly thought you were 
dead."

	"It is you who will be dead soon! Before the vesper, sweet 
France will be rid of you."

	"Let's fight right away, Frenchman! I have here my spear 
and my sword, I need no armor."

	"How crazy would you be if you didn't arm yourself, you 
don't know how hard the Dane strikes!"

	Bréhier will therefore put on his armor and mount 
Baucent, his destrier. He does not forget to bring a small box filled
with a marvelous ointment which is well worth all the gold of a 
country, because it heals the most cruel wounds instantly. The 
Saracen giant then returns and finds Ogier quietly waiting for him
in a large meadow at the foot of the mound. "You are mad, Dane! 
How can your God, who was put to death by the Jews, defend you?
All his power is not worth two denarii."

	"Pagan," replies Ogier, "you are wrong to slander the 
worthy King Jesus; it is in his name that I challenge you: I make a 
point of confounding your beliefs today and sending you straight 
to hell."

	"I take nothing of value from you, nor from your God 
either," said Bréhier.

	The two fighters move away to take the field, then they 
turn and swoop down on each other with such impulsiveness that
their spears fly to pieces, but Ogier feels that Broiefort flinched in 
shock. The blows rain down, the two champions fight like lions. 
Finally, Bréhier is unhorsed: he falls to the ground seriously 
injured. So he takes his little box of ointment from his aumônière 
and smears it on himself; the blood stops flowing, the wound 
closes, heals, and is cured. The Saracen gets back in the saddle, the
champions start the fight again. This time Ogier strikes his 
adversary with such a blow that he splits the hauberk from top to 
bottom; the heathen's entrails spill over the pommel of his saddle.
The Dane expects to see him fall dead, but Bréhier takes his 
entrails and puts them back in place, then he rubs himself with his
ointment and there he is again full of health! "Ogier," he said, "you
see very well that it is impossible to kill me by iron or by steel."

	"God confound you!" responds the Dane.

	For long hours the two valiant warriors fight fiercely. Each
time the Saracen is wounded, he anoints his wound with the 
marvelous ointment which heals it immediately. "Ogier," he said 
at last, "you see you can't beat me, but I'm so tired that I can 
hardly hold my horse. Would you deign to grant me a truce? I will 
reward you for it by giving you my ointment to close your badly 
bleeding wounds."

	"I don't want to owe you anything," replies the Dane, "I 
want to defeat you by my own strength, otherwise your people 
will brag that it was thanks to your magnanimity that I won the 
victory. But sleep safe, I will watch over your sleep." Bréhier lay 
down on the grass and fell asleep right away. Mouth open, he 
snores; he has his head lower than his feet and seems very ill. 
Ogier looks around him, he sees at a certain distance an immense 
flat stone which a roussin would not succeed in dragging; he 
brings it in his arms and puts it under his adversary's head.

	After an hour Bréhier wakes up, the fight begins again. 
Soon the pagan kills Broiefort, the good steed. "Ha! Bréhier," cried
Ogier, "how sad I am! You have killed the best horse in the whole 
world, the courser who once rescued me from so many dangers."

	"It was no good next to mine that I am going to let graze in 
this meadow," replies the Saracen. Let us fight on foot; if you 
bring me down, you'll take my horse. Bréhier forgets that his box 
of ointment is in his aumônière which hangs from the pommel of 
his saddle. Prompt as lightning, Ogier cuts the link that held the 
aumônière and seizes it. This done, he attacks the pagan with 
more audacity. What does it matter to him to be hurt? He will 
smear the wound with ointment and be healed. After a short time,
the Saracen loses his blood through terrible wounds; he is 
weakening moment by moment.

	So he imagines a ruse which is a double cross: he takes his 
sword and lays it on the grass, he kneels down and joins his hands
to return it to the Dane. "Ogier," he says, "noble and generous 
duke, I see that it is your God who is most powerful. Take me to 
Charles's chapel and I'll become a Christian, but give me some of 
my ointment or I'll die before I get there... Alas! if I perish without
having received baptism, my soul will be lost."

	"God!" said the duke, "we must prevent this soul from 
going to ruin at all costs."

	He therefore hands his adversary the box of ointment, and
while the Saracen is rubbing it, he turns away to untie his helm, 
then he takes off his hauberk and places Courtain beside him in 
the grass. As soon as Bréhier feels strong and valiant again, he 
rises on his feet, grabs his sword and strikes Ogier in the back; if 
the sword had not slipped, the Dane was dead. Out of himself with
anger, Ogier takes Courtain, turns around and, with a single blow, 
makes the head of the treacherous traitor fly in the middle of the 
field. Then, seizing Baucent by the bridle, he jumped into the 
saddle and returned to the camp of the French, where he was 
received with great honor. Nevertheless, the Saracens refuse to 
consider themselves beaten, they attack the army of Charles: 
great is the melee and the terrible combat...

	These events took place in the month of May; the wild rose
was in bloom, the blackbird was singing loudly and, in the 
evening, the nightingale filled the groves with its sweetest songs. 
But the French and the Saracens, their hearts swelling with rage, 
were waging a war to the death. The French had Ogier to lead 
them, while the pagans had lost their leader; and so the latter 
were finally put to rout; abandoning all their booty, they fled – 
those at least who had not lost their lives, but they were few in 
number.

	Charlemagne and his warriors returned to Laon to the 
sound of bells. The clergy of the city went in procession to meet 
them; bourgeois and ladies took to the streets to do them honor. 
They stopped at the palace gate, and Charles and Charlot ran up to
hold Ogier's stirrup and help him down. "Lords," said the Dane, "it
appears that I am truly fallen! I must be considered old and 
venerable, since the King of France thinks he must hold the 
stirrup for me."

	"No," replied the Emperor, "but the King of France can and
must serve the best warrior of his country, the savior of 
Christendom."

	Charles returned to Ogier his fiefs and also gave him 
Hainaut and Brabant. The Dane made himself feared and dreaded 
from one end of gentle France to the other, but he also made 
himself loved. For, if he took pleasure in punishing traitors and 
the wicked, he helped orphans, fed beggars, endowed young girls 
without fortune, and judged everyone with justice. If an honest 
and loyal man fell into poverty, Ogier bought back his lands.

	He lived as long as God willed and died full of honors; he 
was buried at Meaux in the abbey of Saint-Faron, where a 
magnificent tomb was erected for him, and the body of Benoît, his
squire whom he had loved so much, was brought back from 
Lombardy and buried beside him.

	Lords, I have finished my song. I thank you for having 
listened to it with patience and I beg you not to forget the name 
of Raimbert of Paris, the humble jongleur who told it to you.

Glossary

aumônière	pouch or purse, often richly embroidered, carried at the girdle
ban		power of the king to call free men into military service
bliaut		robe with long loose sleeves and a tight waist
bourdon		pilgrim's staff
chanfron	piece of plate armor that protects a horse's head
courser		swift and strong horse, frequently used as a war horse
denarius	ancient Roman silver coin
destrier	heavy war horse that carried knights in battles and jousts
gonfalon	heraldic banner emblazoned with a coat of arms
gonfalonier	the one who carries the banner into battle
hanap		large drinking goblet
hauberk		shirt of mail reaching to mid-thigh and including sleeves
jongleur	an itinerant public entertainer, singer, and storyteller
mangonel	military device used for throwing stones
Montjoie!	Charlemagne's battle cry, the exact meaning of the word is uncertain
olifant		ivory hunting horn
oriflamme  	pointed, blood-red banner with golden flames, the battle standard of the King of France
pellison  	long cloak or coat made of fur or lined or trimmed with fur
roussin		large horse used as a draft horse, a war horse, or for hunting
setier		ancient measure used for wine, equivalent of about 17 gallons
sommier		pack horse of North Brittany in France, heavier cousin of the roussin
trouvère	poet, composer, and performer of lyric poetry
vesper		time of day when a service of evening prayer is called for

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REFERENCES

Les infortunes d'Ogier le Danois, Marie Butts, 1913

La chevalerie Ogier de Danemarche, Raimbert de Paris