That Gan be suffered free to go,His faith and love henceforth to show.Oh, let him live--a noble he.Your Roland you shall never see:No wealth of gold may him recall."Karl answered, "Ye are felons all."CCXXXIVWhen Karl saw all forsake him now,Dark grew his face and drooped his brow.He said, "Of men most wretched I!"Stepped forth Thierry speedily,Duke Geoffrey's brother, a noble knight,Spare of body, and lithe and light,Dark his hair and his hue withal,Nor low of stature, nor over tall:To Karl, in courteous wise, he said,"Fair Sire, be not disheartenèd.I have served you truly, and, in the nameOf my lineage, I this quarrel claim.If Roland wronged Sir Gan in aught,Your service had his safeguard wrought.Ganelon bore him like caitiff base,A perjured traitor before your face.I adjudge him to die on the gallows tree;Flung to the hounds let his carcase be,The doom of treason and felony.Let kin of his but say I lie,And with this girded sword will IMy plighted word in fight maintain.""Well spoken," cry the Franks amain.CCXXXVSir Pinabel stood before Karl in place,Vast of body and swift of pace,--Small hope hath he whom his sword may smite."Sire, it is yours to decide the right,Bid this clamor around to pause.Thierry hath dared to adjudge the cause;He lieth. Battle thereon I do."And forth his right-hand glove he drew.But the Emperor said, "In bail to meShall thirty of his kinsmen be;I yield him pledges on my side:Be they guarded well till the right be tried."When Thierry saw the fight shall be,To Karl his right glove reacheth he;The Emperor gave his pledges o'er.And set in place were benches four--Thereon the champions take their seat,And all is ranged in order meet,--The preparations Ogier speeds,--And both demand their arms and steeds.CCXXXVIBut yet, ere lay they lance in rest,They make their shrift, are sained and blessed;They hear the Mass, the Host receive,Great gifts to church and cloister leave.They stand before the Emperor's face;The spurs upon their feet they lace;Gird on their corselets, strong and light;Close on their heads the helmets bright.The golden hilts at belt are hung;Their quartered shields from shoulder swung.In hand the mighty spears they lift,Then spring they on their chargers swift.A hundred thousand cavaliersThe while for Thierry drop their tears;They pity him for Roland's sake.God knows what end the strife will take.CCXXXVIIAt Aix is a wide and grassy plain,Where met in battle the barons twain.Both of valorous knighthood are,Their chargers swift and apt for war.They prick them hard with slackened rein;Drive each at other with might and main.Their bucklers are in fragments flung,Their hauberks rent, their girths unstrung;With saddles turned, they earthward rolled.A hundred thousand in tears behold.CCXXXVIIIBoth cavaliers to earth are gone,Both rise and leap on foot anon.Strong is Pinabel, swift and light;Each striketh other, unhorsed they fight;With golden-hilted swords, they dealFiery strokes on the helms of steel.Trenchant and fierce is their every blow.The Franks look on in wondrous woe."O God," saith Karl, "Thy judgment show."CCXXXIX"Yield thee, Thierry," said Pinabel."In love and faith will I serve thee well,And all my wealth to thy feet will bring,Win Ganelon's pardon from the king.""Never," Thierry in scorn replied,"Shall thought so base in my bosom bide!God betwixt us this day decide."CCXL"Ah, Pinabel!" so Thierry spake,"Thou art a baron of stalwart make,Thy knighthood known to every peer,--Come, let us cease this battle here.With Karl thy concord shall be won,But on Ganelon be justice done;Of him henceforth let speech be none.""No," said Pinabel; "God forefend!My kinsman I to the last defend;Nor will I blench for mortal face,--Far better death than such disgrace."Began they with their glaves anewThe gold-encrusted helms to hew;Towards heaven the fiery sparkles flew.They shall not be disjoined again,Nor end the strife till one be slain.CCXLIPinabel, lord of Sorrence's keep,Smote Thierry's helm with stroke so deepThe very fire that from it cameHath set the prairie round in flame;The edge of steel did his forehead traceAdown the middle of his face;His hauberk to the centre clave.God deigned Thierry from death to save.CCXLIIWhen Thierry felt him wounded so,For his bright blood flowed on the grass below,He smote on Pinabel's helmet brown,Cut and clave to the nasal down;Dashed his brains from forth his head,And, with stroke of prowess, cast him dead.Thus, at a blow, was the battle won:"God," say the Franks, "hath this marvel done."CCXLIIIWhen Thierry thus was conqueror,He came the Emperor Karl before.Full fifty barons were in his train,Duke Naimes, and Ogier the noble Dane,Geoffrey of Anjou and William of Blaye.Karl clasped him in his arms straightwayWith skin of sable he wiped his face;Then cast it from him, and, in its place,Bade him in fresh attire be drest.His armor gently the knights divest;On an Arab mule they make him ride:So returns he, in joy and pride.To the open plain of Aix they come,Where the kin of Ganelon wait their doom.CCXLIVKarl his dukes and his counts addressed:"Say, what of those who in bondage rest--Who came Count Ganelon's plea to aid,And for Pinabel were bailsmen made?""One and all let them die the death."And the king to Basbrun, his provost, saith"Go, hang them all on the gallows tree.By my beard I swear, so white to see,If one escape, thou shalt surely die.""Mine be the task," he made reply.A hundred men-at-arms are there:The thirty to their doom they bear.The traitor shall his guilt atone,With blood of others and his own.CCXLVThe men of Bavaria and Allemaine,Norman and Breton return again,And with all the Franks aloud they cry,That Gan a traitor's death shall die.They bade be brought four stallions fleet;Bound to them Ganelon, hands and feet:Wild and swift was each savage steed,And a mare was standing within the mead;Four grooms impelled the coursers on,--A fearful ending for Ganelon.His every nerve was stretched and torn,And the limbs of his body apart were borne;The bright blood, springing from every vein,Left on the herbage green its stain.He died a felon and recreant:Never shall traitor his treason vaunt.CCXLVINow was the Emperor's vengeance done,And he called to the bishops of France anonWith those of Bavaria and Allemaine."A noble captive is in my train.She hath hearkened to sermon and homily,And a true believer in Christ will be;Baptize her so that her soul have grace."They say, "Let ladies of noble race,At her christening, be her sponsors vowed."And so there gathered a mighty crowd.At the baths of Aix was the wondrous scene--There baptized they the Spanish queen;Julienne they have named her name.In faith and truth unto Christ she came.CCXLVIIWhen the Emperor's justice was satisfied,His mighty wrath did awhile subside.Queen Bramimonde was a Christian made,The day passed on into night's dark shade;As the king in his vaulted chamber lay,Saint Gabriel came from God to say,"Karl, thou shalt summon thine empire's host,And march in haste to Bira's coast;Unto Impha city relief to bring,And succor Vivian, the Christian king.The heathens in siege have the town essayedAnd the shattered Christians invoke thine aid."Fain would Karl such task decline."God! what a life of toil is mine!"He wept; his hoary beard he wrung.So ends the lay Turoldus sung.
CCXXXIV
CCXXXV
CCXXXVI
CCXXXVII
CCXXXVIII
CCXXXIX
CCXL
CCXLI
CCXLII
CCXLIII
CCXLIV
CCXLV
CCXLVI
CCXLVII