OLIVER AND FIERABRAS.

STORIES
OF CHARLEMAGNE

AND THE TWELVE PEERS OF FRANCE

FROM THE OLD ROMANCES

By the

REV. A. J. CHURCH, M.A.

Formerly Professor of Latin in University College, London
Author of "Stories from Homer," etc.

With Illustrations by
GEORGE MORROW

LONDON
SEELEY AND CO. LIMITED
38, GREAT RUSSELL STREET
1902

PREFACE

I have endeavoured to tell in this volume the story of Charlemagne, the Charlemagne, it must be understood, not of history, but of Romance. The two personages are curiously different. Each writer of a romance had naturally a hero of his own. As he had to exalt this hero, he could hardly help depreciating the king. Charlemagne suffers by comparison with Roland and Reynaud very much as, in the Iliad, Agamemnon, the overlord of the Greeks, suffers by comparison with the subordinate King, Achilles. The real Charlemagne was a very great personality, one that impressed his age as deeply as any man has ever done; in these stories he often appears petty, capricious, and obstinate. Then the romance writers were Frenchmen, and they make the great king a Frenchman, holding his court in Paris, and surrounded by great French lords. They began to write when the air was full of the crusading spirit, and their work is coloured accordingly. The enemy is always a Saracen or a follower of Mahomet. There could not be a more curious instance of this than is to be found in the story of the death of Roland. In the romance Charlemagne's rearguard is destroyed by an overpowering force of Saracens. What really happened was that it was attacked, probably for the sake of plundering the baggage, by a gathering of mountaineers, who are called Gascons by the chroniclers, but were, in fact, Basques. Then, again, we find the romance writers in sympathy with the great feudatories, indicating the time before the French monarchy had become consolidated, when the king at Paris had all that he could do to hold his own against his powerful vassals, the Dukes of Brittany and Burgundy, and the English king.

The Charlemagne romances, as translated by Lord Berners and William Caxton, occupy twelve volumes in the Extra Series of the Early English Text Society. Some of these are variants of the same story. There is a romance of "Ferumbras," for instance, which gives substantially the same tale as that which occupies eleven chapters in this volume. "Huon of Bordeaux," again, fills four volumes in the Extra Series. But the original chanson is contained in one of the four and is complete in itself. This, too, I have considerably compressed and shortened. The same process has had to be applied to all before they could be made acceptable to the readers of to-day. I hope that they have not lost their life and colour and human interest.

The stories of which I have made use are "The Four Sons of Aymon" (i.-xi.); "Ralph the Collier" (xii.-xiii.), a genuinely English production, it would seem, as no French original has been found; "Fierabras," taken from the "Lyf of Charles the Grete" (xiv.-xxiv.); "The Song of Roland" (xxv.-xxxv.), and "Duke Huon of Bordeaux" (xxxvi.-xl.). This has been put last in order, as it represents Charlemagne grown old and weary of power. The death of the great King is only mentioned as imminent in the romance which I have followed; I have added an abridged account of it from the contemporary biography written by Eginhard. The story of Huon is peculiarly interesting to us because it introduces the fairy King Oberon, who was to become so important a figure in English literature.

I have to express my obligations to the Introduction, written by Mr. Sidney Lee to the first part of "Duke Huon of Bordeaux."

ALFRED J. CHURCH.

OXFORD, July 17, 1902.

CONTENTS

CHAP.

I. [THE SLAYING OF LOTHAIR]
II. [HOW THE DUKE BENES CAME BY HIS END]
III. [HOW IT FARED WITH THE BRETHREN]
IV. [THE COMING OF ROLAND]
V. [OF THE TREACHERY OF KING JOHN]
VI. [OF THE CRAFT OF MAWGIS]
VII. [MORE DEEDS OF MAWGIS]
VIII. [HOW MAWGIS BECAME A HERMIT]
IX. [OF WHAT BEFELL AT MONTALBAN]
X. [HOW PEACE WAS MADE]
XI. [OF REYNAUD'S END]
XII. [HOW RALPH ENTERTAINED THE KING]
XIII. [HOW RALPH WENT TO COURT]
XIV. [HOW FIERABRAS DEFIED KING CHARLES]
XV. [HOW OLIVER FOUGHT WITH FIERABRAS]
XVI. [HOW OLIVER AND OTHERS WERE TAKEN PRISONERS]
XVII. [HOW OLIVER AND HIS COMRADES FARED]
XVIII. [OF THE BRIDGE OF MANTRYBLE]
XIX. [OF THE DOINGS OF FLORIPAS]
XX. [OF THE DOINGS OF THE FRENCH KNIGHTS]
XXI. [OF GUY OF BURGUNDY]
XXII. [OF RICHARD OF NORMANDY]
XXIII. [HOW THE BRIDGE MANTRYBLE WAS WON]
XXIV. [OF THE END OF BALAN THE ADMIRAL]
XXV. [HOW GANELON WENT ON AN ERRAND TO KING MARSILAS]
XXVI. [THE TREASON OF GANELON]
XXVII. [OF THE PLOT AGAINST ROLAND]
XXVIII. [HOW THE HEATHEN AND THE FRENCH PREPARED FOR BATTLE]
XXIX. [THE BATTLE]
XXX. [HOW ROLAND SOUNDED HIS HORN]
XXXI. [HOW OLIVER WAS SLAIN]
XXXII. [HOW ARCHBISHOP TURPIN DIED]
XXXIII. [THE DEATH OF ROLAND]
XXXIV. [HOW CHARLEMAGNE SOUGHT VENGEANCE]
XXXV. [OF THE PUNISHMENT OF GANELON]
XXXVI. [HOW KING CHARLES SENT HUON ON AN ERRAND]
XXXVII. [HOW HUON MET WITH KING OBERON]
XXXVIII. [OF THE END OF THE FALSE DUKE MACAIRE]
XXXIX. [HOW HUON, HAVING SLAIN A GIANT, CAME TO BABYLON]
XL. [HOW HUON RETURNED, HIS ERRAND FULFILLED]

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

[OLIVER AND FIERABRAS] ... Frontispiece

[REYNAUD KNEELING TO ROLAND]

[REYNAUD AND BAYARD]

[RALPH IN THE PALACE OF CHARLEMAGNE]

[BLOWING THE GREAT COAL]

[THE AMBASSADORS OF KING MARSILAS]

[ON THE FIELD OF RONCESVALLES]

[HUON MEETING WITH OBERON]

STORIES OF CHARLEMAGNE

AND THE TWELVE PEERS OF FRANCE

CHAPTER I
THE SLAYING OF LOTHAIR

King Charles held a great court in his capital city of Paris at the Feast of Pentecost. Thither came the Twelve Peers of France, and many other men of note, besides strangers from Germany, England, and other realms. One of the chief of the Frenchmen was Aymon, Duke of Ardennes, who brought with him his four sons, to wit, Reynaud, Alard, Guichard, and Richard. All these four were marvellously fair, witty, and valiant; but the fairest, wittiest, and most valiant was Reynaud, the eldest born. There was not in the world a man of so great strength and stature. It is of him and his brothers that this tale is told.

King Charles stood up, and said, "Brethren and friends, you know that by your help I have conquered many lands, and brought many pagans to confess the Christian faith. You know also that this has not been done without grievous loss on our part, and verily had not been done at all but for succour that we looked not for. But the succour that we looked for, that we had not, and notably from Duke Benes of Aygremont. This, then, is my purpose. I will send to Duke Benes, bidding him attend me this summer. And if he will not come, then I will besiege him in his town of Aygremont. And when he shall come into my hands, I will hang him, and slay his son Mawgis, and cause that discourteous woman, his wife, to be burnt with fire."

Duke Naymes said, "Be not so hot, my lord King. Send a message to the Duke by some prudent man, and when you shall have received his answer, then take counsel what you shall do."

"That is good counsel," said the King. But when he called for a messenger, no man answered, for many were of the Duke's kindred. Then he called his eldest son Lothair, and said to him, "Go to this Duke, and bid him come to me with his men-at-arms by mid-summer next, or else I will besiege his city of Aygremont."

The next day Lothair departed, having a hundred knights with him, armed for battle. As they went they uttered many threatenings against the Duke, if he should not submit himself to the King.

It so chanced that a spy heard them talk in this fashion, and, making all haste, came to the Duke and told him. "There come messengers," he said, "from King Charles, threatening terrible things, and the King's own son is with them." Then the Duke asked his lords what he should do. One of them, Sir Simon by name, a good man and a wise, said to him, "Receive the King's messengers honourably. It is not well for a man, how great soever he be, to fight against his sovereign lord. Many of your kinsmen have so dared, yet do not you." Said the Duke, "I am not fallen so low that I should follow such counsel. Have I not three brothers, princes all of them, that will help me against the King, and four nephews also, sons of Aymon, that are stout and valiant men?" So he would not listen to Sir Simon; no, nor yet to his wife the Duchess, though she was urgent with him to speak peaceably to the King's messengers.

By this time Lothair and his knights were come to the town of Aygremont. The Prince said, "See what a fortress is there! How strong are the walls! See, too, the river running at their base. There is no stronger place in Christendom. It cannot be taken by force, but haply by famishing it may be taken." One of his knights said to him, "My lord, you say true. This is a mighty prince, and he has a strong castle. It would be well if you could make him to be of good accord with your father." "You speak well," answered Lothair, "nevertheless if the Duke shall say anything that shall displease us, he shall be sorry therefor." But the knight said softly to himself, "This is foolishness, and we shall pay for it with our lives."

So Lothair and his men came to the castle, and knocked at the gate. "Who are you?" said the porter. "We be friends," answered Lothair, "and we bring a message from the King." "Wait awhile," said the porter, "till I tell the Duke." So the porter went to the Duke and said, "There are come hither a hundred knights, with the King's eldest son at their head. Shall I open the gate?" "Open it," said the Duke, "we can hold our own, yea though the King himself should come with all his men." So the porter hasted to open the gate. But the Duke said to his lords, "Here comes the King's eldest son; if he speak wisely to us, wisely will we answer him; but if not, he shall not go free."

Then Lothair and his knights were brought into the hall, where the Duke sat among his lords, having the Duchess his wife by him and before him his son Mawgis. Now Mawgis was a great wizard.

Lothair said, "God keep King Charles and confound Duke Benes! My father says, 'Come to Paris with five hundred knights, and make good your want of service in the parts of Lombardy, where, for lack of your help, many valiant men came by their death. But if you fail in this thing, you shall surely be hanged, your wife burned with fire, and all your house destroyed.'"

Then might any one have seen the Duke change colour for anger. When he could speak, he said, "I will not go to the King. I hold of him neither land nor fortress; or rather I will go and waste his land till I come to Paris itself."

"Dare you so speak?" cried Prince Lothair, in a loud voice. "You know well that you are the King's man. I counsel you to do his bidding. Else you shall be hanged till the winds of heaven dry your bones."

When the Duke heard this he stood up on his feet in a great rage, crying to Lothair that it was an evil day for him on which he came to the town of Aygremont. Not a word of counsel would he take, when some of his knights would put him in mind of the King's might, and of how he was in truth the King's man, holding of him this very town of Aygremont. "Hold your peace!" he cried. "Never will I consent to hold aught of this man so long as I can mount a horse or hold a spear." And he called upon his lords to lay hold on Lothair, and they durst not disobey him, but ran upon Lothair and the rest of King Charles's men. Then began as sore a battle as was ever fought in this world. For not only did the Duke's men that were within the palace assail the Frenchmen, but the inhabitants of the town, both merchants and craftsmen, hearing the uproar, beset the gates. These gates, indeed, the Frenchmen kept with great courage; but they were few in number, and the day went sorely against them. In the end, after that Prince Lothair had been slain by the Duke himself, there remained but ten of the hundred knights alive. These the Duke spared, on this condition, that they should carry his message to the King, and the message was this: "I will do no homage for my land, nor pay one penny of tribute. Rather I will come with forty thousand men, and waste your land, and burn your fair city of Paris." After this he delivered to them the body of Lothair, laying it in a cart drawn by two horses. And when the ten knights were quit of the town, and were come into the fields, they began to weep and lament, not for Lothair only, but also for themselves, for they feared the King. So they went on their way to Paris.

Meanwhile King Charles at Paris was not a little troubled. "I fear me much," he said to his lords, "lest some evil have befallen my son, for this Duke Benes is a savage man and a cruel." Then answered the Duke Aymon, "If the Duke shall do you any wrong, I will help you with all my heart. Here also are my four sons who will go with me." "That is well spoken," said the King. "Bring your sons hither." So the Duke brought them, and the King, when he saw them, loved them all, but Reynaud, who was the eldest, more than the other three. He said to his steward, "Bring hither the arms of King Certes, whom I slew at Pampeluna, and put them on him." And Ogier the Dane bound on his spurs, and the King himself girded him with his sword. This done, he dubbed him knight, saying, "God increase thee in goodness, honour, and worthiness!"

Reynaud, it should be known, had a very noble horse, Bayard by name, that had been given him by his cousin Mawgis. Never was there such a horse in the world, save only Bucephalus, that was the horse of Alexander of Macedon. When he was mounted on him he seemed such a knight as could scarce be matched in France or any other land. When they jousted in the lists, for the King held a tournament at St. Victor that was near to Paris, not one did so well as Reynaud.

The tournament being ended, the King returned to his palace in Paris. The next morning he said to his lords, Ogier the Dane, and the Duke Naymes and Turpin the Archbishop, "I am in fear for my son Lothair; he tarries long on this journey. I dreamed also last night that the Duke Benes had slain him." The Duke Naymes said, "Put no trust in dreams, for they are naught." The King answered, "Nevertheless, if the Duke have done this thing, he shall die."

While they were yet speaking, there came a messenger upon a horse, faint and weary and sorely wounded, and the King saw him pass the window where he stood. Then the King ran lightly down to the gate, his lords following him. When the messenger saw the King he saluted him in a low voice, and told him all that had befallen. And when he had ended his words, he fell to the ground in a swoon for grief and the pain of his wounds.

Great was the King's sorrow. He wrung his hands and tore his beard and his hair. His lords sought to comfort him, and Duke Naymes said, "Now bury your son with great honour at St. Germaine's, and when you have done this, gather together your army, and march against this Duke Benes."

Then the King and his lords rode forth from Paris, and when they had gone the space of two miles, they met the cart wherein was the body of Prince Lothair. And when the King saw the cart, he lighted down from his horse, and lifted the cloth that was upon the dead man. And when he saw how the head was severed from the body and the face sore disfigured with wounds he cried aloud. And he said, "Oh, Lothair, my son, you were a fair and gentle knight. May God of His mercy receive you into Paradise!" Then his lords bore him up on one side and the other, and brought him to St. Germaine's. There they buried Prince Lothair with all honour.

CHAPTER II
HOW THE DUKE BENES CAME BY HIS END

Duke Aymon said to his sons, "We do ill to tarry here. The King is very wroth and not without cause, with your uncle Duke Benes, and will wage war against him, in which matter he will of a certainty ask your help. But we cannot fight against our own kinsfolk. Let us therefore depart to our own country."

So the Duke and his four sons departed, and came to the land of Ardennes. The Duchess was right glad to see them. Nevertheless, when she was aware of the reason of their coming she was greatly troubled. To the Duke Aymon she said, "My lord, you have done ill to leave the King without license given, for he is your natural lord, and you have received much good at his hands. You have brought away your sons also, whom he has of his goodness promoted to the order of knighthood. This was not well." "Lady," said the Duke, "we left the King because my brother Benes had slain the Prince Lothair, and we are afraid." "For all that," answered the Duchess, "do you serve the King and obey him, for to do so becomes a true man." Then said the Duke, "I would lose my castle and the half of my land, if only my brother Benes had not slain the Prince Lothair."

In the meanwhile the King was greatly troubled, not only by the death of his son, but also by the departure of Duke Aymon and his sons. "See," said he, "how these men whom I promoted to great honour have betrayed me. Verily, if I lay hands on them they shall die. But first I must punish this villain Duke Benes. I will make war on him this very summer. In the meanwhile they that desire so to do may go to their own homes, but let all be here on Midsummer Day."

Tidings of these things came to the Duke Benes, and he sent to his brethren, Gerard and Bron, that they should come to his help. These came with many men, so that the Duke had now a very great army. So, having great confidence in his strength, he set out for Troyes in the region of Champagne.

Meanwhile, there came to the King at Paris Duke Richard of Normandy, with thirty thousand men, and also the Earl Guy of Heron, and the Duke of Brittany; also many other lords and knights from Gascony, Burgundy, Flanders, and other parts. These all pitched their tents in the meadows of St. Germain.

When all things had been prepared, the King and his army set out, his purpose being to besiege the town of Aygremont. When they had marched many days, there came to Ogier the Dane, who led the van of the army, a messenger riding in hot haste. He asked, "Whose is this army?" When they told him it was the army of King Charles, he said, "I would fain speak with the King." So they brought him to the King, and he delivered his message, which was from Aubrey, lord of Troyes, and to this effect; that Duke Benes and his two brothers had come up against the town of Troyes with a very great host, and would most certainly take it unless the King should come to his help. When the King heard this he commanded that the army should leave marching to Aygremont, and should turn aside to Troyes. And this was done, and in no long time the King and his army came to a place from which they could see the town of Troyes.

When Gerard of Roussillon, that was brother to Duke Benes, heard that the King was now near at hand, he said to the Duke, "Let us go without delay against the King." This saying pleased the others, and they rode till they saw the King's army. And Gerard rode forth before his men, crying, "Roussillon! Roussillon!" On the other hand, Ogier the Dane rode out from the King's army, his spear in rest, and smote a knight, Ponson by name, so that he fell dead upon the earth. Meanwhile Gerard slew one of Ogier's knights. So the battle waxed fiercer and fiercer. Duke Benes, charging at his horse's utmost speed, overthrew the Lord of St. Quintin. On the other side, Duke Richard of Normandy did many valiant deeds, slaying, among others, a certain knight that was Gerard's nearest friend. "I shall have no peace," said Gerard, "till I have avenged my friend," and he put his spear in rest and would have charged at Duke Richard. But his brother Bron said to him, "Have a care; here comes King Charles with all his men; if we abide his coming in this place it will go ill with us." While he was speaking a certain knight in the company of Duke Richard slew Gerard's nephew before his face. Then Gerard sent a message to Duke Benes that he was in a great strait, and must have help forthwith.

When the Duke Benes heard this, he made haste to come, bringing a great company with him, and the battle grew yet more fierce. After a while Duke Richard of Normandy rode at Duke Benes, piercing his shield with his spear, and bruising him sorely on the body. Also drawing his sword he smote the Duke's horse so stoutly that it fell dead. But the Duke himself sprang lightly from the ground, and fought right valiantly on foot, slaying sundry of those who thought to take him alive. And anon his men brought to him another horse. And still the battle grew fiercer and fiercer.

Then came King Charles himself, his spear in rest, and smote Gerard on the shield so strongly that he overthrew both man and horse. Then had Gerard perished but for his two brothers Benes and Bron, who with no small trouble drew him out of the press. This indeed they did, but the battle went against the men of Aygremont. Right glad were they when the sun set, and this was about Compline time,[[1]] for the days were now long.

[[1]] Compline was the last of the services of the day. Vespers would correspond to our Evening Service, though a little earlier, as at 6 p.m. Compline came at some varying interval after.

When Duke Benes and his brothers came together after the battle they had much debate as to what should be done. Gerard counselled that they should renew the battle on the morrow, but the others deemed otherwise. "Nay," said the Duke Bron, "we shall fare ill if we do this. My counsel is this: let us choose thirty knights, the most prudent that we can find. Let them say on our behalf to King Charles that we beg him to have mercy upon us, that the Duke Benes shall make such amends for the slaying of Prince Lothair as may be agreed by the lords of the two countries, and that hereafter we will be his true liegemen." To this counsel the others agreed. Forthwith they sought out the thirty knights, the most prudent men that they could find. These, when it was day, they sent as an embassage of peace to King Charles. And Gerard gave them this counsel that before they sought audience of the King they should seek out the Duke Naymes, and beseech him to plead their cause with the King, "for the Duke," said he, "is a lover of peace."

In due time the thirty knights, bearing despatches in their hands, were brought into the presence of the King, and delivered their message to him. When King Charles heard these words he looked at the men frowningly, and in great wrath. Then he said to him that was their chief and spokesman, a certain Sir Stephen, "Surely, Sir Stephen, your Duke had lost his wits when he slew my dear son Lothair. And now, when he says that he will be my man, does he speak the truth? What say you?" "I will answer for him," said Sir Stephen. Then King Charles went with his lords into a chamber apart, and took counsel with them what should be done. Then the Duke Naymes said, "My advice is that you pardon them. They are valiant men, and you had better have them for friends than for enemies."

Then King Charles called the thirty knights, and said to them, "I pardon Duke Benes and his brothers. Only I will that he come to me at the Feast of St. John next ensuing, with ten thousand men well equipped for war."

When the messengers brought back this answer the brothers greatly rejoiced. Duke Gerard said, "It is meet that we should ourselves go and thank the King." So they put off their fine array, and went, having but a single garment apiece, and with bare feet, and four thousand knights went with them in the same plight. When they came before the King he spoke to them in peaceable words, but he had anger in his heart, especially against Duke Benes, as will be seen hereafter.

Some seven days before the Feast of St. John Baptist the Duke Benes set out from Aygremont that he might present himself according to his promise before King Charles. Meanwhile the King was holding his court in Paris. To him came one Guenes, who was his nephew, saying, "Sire, Duke Benes is on his way hither with a company of knights. Now is the time to take vengeance on him for the murder of Prince Lothair." "That were treachery," answered the King, "for we have given our word to him. The Duke also is a great man and has powerful kinsmen." "I heed not that," said Guenes, "I have kinsmen also that are as good as he." "Certainly it were treachery," said the King again; "but do as you will, only mark that I do not consent thereto."

So Guenes departed, having four thousand men with him, and met the Duke and his company in the Valley of Soissons. So soon as the Duke saw him, he was aware of his evil purpose. "I held that the King was a true man, but now I see that he practises treachery against me. Now would that I had with me Mawgis my son, and the four sons of my brother Aymon. I shall have great need of them this day." And in this indeed he spake truly, for there was a great battle. The Duke and his knights did valiantly, but what could their valour avail against so great a multitude? First, the Duke's horse was killed, and when he rose to his feet, Guenes, being mounted on a very swift charger, made at him, and ran him through with a spear, so that he fell dead upon the plain. When the Duke was dead there was a great slaughter of his knights. Ten only were left alive, and these were spared upon this condition, that they should take the body of the Duke to his town of Aygremont, even as the body of Prince Lothair had been taken by ten of his knights to the town of Paris. Great was the grief in the town of Aygremont when the body of the Duke was taken thither. But Mawgis said to the Duchess his mother, "Have patience awhile, my dear mother. The King shall pay dearly for this his treachery. And in this I know that my kinsfolk will help me."

CHAPTER III
HOW IT FARED WITH THE BRETHREN

At Pentecost King Charles held a court at Paris to which with others came Duke Aymon and his sons. Said the King to Aymon, "You and your sons are very dear to me. Therefore I am minded to make Reynaud my steward." "I thank you," answered the Duke; "yet this I will say that you did a grievous wrong in that you suffered my brother Benes to be slain, when he had a safe-conduct under your hand. Nevertheless I forgive you." "Remember," said the King, "that Benes slew my son Lothair. Let us set one deed against the other, and speak of them no more." "So be it," answered the Duke. But his sons were not so minded, for they came forth out of the company, and Reynaud spake for them, "Sire," he said, "we are not of our father's mind, for we hate you with a great hatred." The King, being very angry, cried, "Away out of my sight, foolish boy; were it not for this company I would set you so fast in prison that you should not move hand or foot."

After these things the whole company went to the Church to hear mass; and after mass they sat down to dinner, but Reynaud would not sit down, so angry was he. After dinner, Berthelot, that was nephew to the King, said to Reynaud, "Come here, play me at chess." So these two sat down to play. When they had played awhile, there arose a dispute between them. So hot was the dispute that Berthelot called Reynaud by an ill name, and smote him on the face, whereupon Reynaud, lifting the chess board, that was of massy gold, smote Berthelot upon the head so strongly that he fell down dead. When the King knew this he cried in great wrath, "Lay hold on this Reynaud. By St. Denis he shall not go out of this place alive." Then the King's knights would have laid hold on him, but his brothers and kinsfolk defended him, and there was such a strife in the palace as had never before been seen. In the end Reynaud and his brothers, with Mawgis their cousin, escaped out of the palace, and mounting their horses fled to Dordogne, the King's knights following hard upon them. As for Reynaud he was in no peril, for his horse Bayard was as swift as the wind, but with the others it went hard. Then Reynaud turned upon the knights that pursued and slaying four of them, gave their horses to the others. So they came safe all of them to Dordogne, where dwelt their mother the Duchess. She, fearing greatly for their lives, would have them take all her treasure, and depart. So they departed, with many tears, and coming into the forest of Ardennes built for themselves a castle which they called Montanford. A great fortress was it and a strong, for it was built upon a rock and defended on all sides with great walls, and furnished with a great store of provisions.

When the King heard of what they had done, he required of his barons that they should help him to take vengeance for his nephew Berthelot. This they promised to do. "Only," said they, "let us go to our own land that we may make ready." To this the King consented. So they departed and came back to Paris in due time with their men. After this the King departed and marched as quickly as he might to the castle of Montanford.

Now it chanced that Reynaud's three brothers were returning from the hunt when they saw the King's host. "Who are these?" said Guichard. Richard, who was the youngest of the brethren, answered, "This is the King's host, for I heard it said that he was coming to take vengeance upon us. But now let us show ourselves to be men." So they and their companions rode to meet the vanguard of the King's army. And Guichard laid his spear in rest, and charged at the Earl Guyon, who was leader of the vanguard, and smote him so strongly that he fell dead to the ground. Thereafter there was a fierce battle, and it went hard with the King's vanguard, so that scarce one of them escaped. But the three brothers got back safe into the tower, and were greatly commended by Reynaud for their valour. And now the King besieged the castle. "I will take it," he said, "by force or by famine." But the Duke Naymes counselled him to demand Guichard of his brother. "If Reynaud yield him up," said he, "then this matter shall be settled peaceably and without loss." "That is good counsel," said the King, and he sent the Duke Naymes with Ogier the Dane to make their demands. But when Reynaud heard it, he was full of anger, and said, "My lords, but that I love you, surely I had cut you to pieces for bringing so evil a message. Think you that I will do so base a thing as to yield up my own brother? Tell the King that I care not a penny for his threatenings; as for you, get you away out of my sight." So the two peers departed with all speed, and told the words of Reynaud to the King.

Then the King set guards at each of the three gates of the castle, and the commander of the guards at the third gate was the Duke Aymon himself, for, of his loyalty to the King, he made war against his own sons.

When Reynaud saw the guards that the King had set at the gates, he said to his men, "These men are worn and weary with travel, and it were but small glory to overcome them now. But when they are somewhat rested, then we will set upon them." And when the men heard him so speak, they judged that he was a very gallant, noble knight.

After a while, Reynaud said, "The time is come, else the King will think that we fear him. Sound the trumpet, and we will let him see what manner of men we are." So the trumpet was sounded, and Reynaud and his men issued from the castle gate, and the King's men on the other hand made themselves ready for the fight, and there was a very terrible battle. Reynaud and his men suffered much that day, for first the Duke Aymon wrought great damage to his sons' army, and then the Duke Fulk slew many, and the defenders of the castle had much ado to hold their own. Nevertheless they did so valiantly that at the last the King was fain to withdraw his men. Nor did he do this without great damage, for Reynaud came upon the army as it retreated, and slew many, and took certain prisoners. This done, the four brothers went back to their castle at Montanford.

But it passed the skill of man to hold the place against such odds as were brought against them. For the King, having gathered together a great multitude of men, surrounded the castle on all sides, and kept it close for a year and more. Then Reynaud sent a messenger to the King, saying, "I will surrender this fortress and myself also with my brothers, if the King will promise on his part that we shall have our lives and goods." But the King, moved by certain of his counsellors, would promise no such thing. And so for a while the matter stood; neither could the King win the castle, nor could the brethren go free.

After a while there came to King Charles a certain knight, Herneger by name, who said, "Sire, if you will give me this castle of Montanford for my own, and all the goods that are within, and the land about it for five miles, I will deliver to you Reynaud and his brothers within the space of a month from now." "Do this," answered the King, "and you shall have what you ask."

Then Herneger, after he had first disposed a thousand knights in the mountains round about, rode up to the castle gates and said, "I pray you to let me enter, for the King seeks my life. I have something to tell Sir Reynaud that he will be right glad to hear." So the porter opened the gate, and let Sir Herneger pass within.

When Reynaud heard that there was a strange knight in the castle, he came and inquired of his business. Herneger said, "The King seeks my life, because I spake on your behalf." "How does the King fare?" said Reynaud. "Has he good store of victuals?" Herneger answered, "He and his army are well-nigh famished. They will not tarry long in this place, and when they depart you may get much spoil by pursuing them." "That is good to hear," answered Reynaud. "If the King fail of his purpose this time, the opportunity will not soon come again." Then he and his brethren and Herneger the traitor sat down to supper and made good cheer.

When all the knights were fast asleep, the false Herneger rose from his bed and armed himself. Then he cut the cords of the drawbridge, and let it fall, and he slew also the guards that kept watch on the wall. When he had done this, the knights who were disposed upon the mountains came up, being led by Guy of Burgundy, and, finding the gates open, entered in and slew all that they could find. Truly it had gone ill with the four brethren that night but for the horse of Alard that woke them out of their sleep. For some of the guards had been slain, and some who should have watched were drunken, and the brethren had been surprised but for the loud neighing of the horse. When Reynaud saw that the enemy was within the castle, he and his brethren took their places in the tower, and, when the tower was set on fire, they took their stand in a certain pit and defended it right valiantly against all the King's men. After awhile, the other knights that were in the castle taking heart and coming to help them, they drove out the enemy from the castle, and shut the gates and raised the drawbridge. The next day Reynaud said to his brothers, "So far we have done well, and have been delivered beyond all hope. Nevertheless here we may not stay, for all our provision of food has been burnt by fire. Let us depart, therefore, while we can." So they left the castle not without much sorrow. Alard and Guichard were in the vanguard with a hundred knights, and Reynaud and Richard brought up the rear with all the rest of their folk.

That night they passed through the army of the King without hurt or hindrance. But for many days to come they had no rest from their enemies, nor of all that pursued them was there one that did them more damage than did Aymon their father. At last things came to this pass that there was no one left alive of all their followers. Their horses also were in a sore plight, for they had nothing to eat save only such roots as they could find in the ground. Nevertheless the horse Bayard was plump and strong, while the others were so lean and weak that they could scarce stand. A wonderful beast was he in this as in other things, being as well nourished by roots as other horses are wont to be by hay and corn. As for the knights they were ill to see, for their armour was eaten away with rust and their skins dark with hunger and want.

Then said Reynaud to his brothers, "What shall we do? As for myself I had sooner die as becomes a knight than perish here of hunger and cold." Alard said, "My counsel is that we go straight to our lady mother in Ardennes. For though the King and his lords hate us, and even our father is set against us, yet I am persuaded that our mother will not fail us." "You give good counsel," said Reynaud; and to this the other two agreed.

That night the brethren set out, and travelling without stay came to the city of Ardennes. When they were in sight of the walls, Reynaud said to his brethren, "We did ill to take no surety of our father, that he give us not into the King's hands." "Fear not," answered Richard. "I am assured that our lady mother will keep us safe." So they entered the town. But no man knew them, so strange were they to look upon, and the townsfolk asked them, "Of what country are you?" "You are too curious," answered Reynaud, and they rode to the palace.

Now the Duke Aymon chanced to be hawking that day by the river, and the Duchess was in her chamber, where she was wont to sit, in much grief because she had no tidings of her children. After a while she came from her chamber into the hall, where the men sat, but she knew them not. Nay so black were they and foul to look upon that she was in no small fear of them, and was minded for a while to go back to her chamber. But soon she took courage, and greeted the men, saying, "Who are you, Christian men or pagans? Maybe you are doing some penance. Will you have some alms from me or clothing? methinks you need them much. Gladly will I do you this service that God also may have mercy upon my own children." And when she thought of her sons, and how she knew not whether they were alive or dead, she wept aloud.

When Reynaud heard her weep, he was himself greatly moved, and wept also. And the Duchess looking on him more closely was not a little troubled, so that she had almost fallen to the ground in a swoon. But when she came to herself she looked again and lo! there was a scar on his face that he had from a fall when he was a child. So she knew him again, and cried, "O my son Reynaud, how comes it that you are so greatly changed, you that were the fairest knight in all the world?" Then she looked about her, and knew her other sons also, and took them one by one in her arms, both rejoicing and lamenting. So she wept and they wept also.

And now came a yeoman to say that the dinner was served. So the Duchess and her sons went to the table, and sat down and made good cheer.

As they sat, the Duke came in from his hawking, and said "Who are these men that are so strange to look upon?" "These are your children and mine," answered the Duchess. "See what they have suffered, living in the woods. I beseech you deal kindly with them." But the Duke hardened his heart against his sons, because he would be true to King Charles. And there was much dispute between them, so that Reynaud had once half drawn his sword from its sheath. Only Alard stayed him, "Set not your hand against him, for that is against God's commandment." In the end peace was made between father and sons in this fashion. Aymon said, "I cannot abide in the house with these men, for that were against my oath to King Charles. But you, my wife, have much gold and silver, and horses and harness and armour. Give to your sons so much as they will take." Having said this, he departed from the house and his knights went with him.

Then the Duchess called her sons to her. First she commanded that they should make baths ready for them. And when they had bathed, she gave them rich apparel of all that they needed. This done she showed them the Duke Aymon's treasure and bade them take of it as much as they needed. Nor did they fail so to do. For Reynaud made such provision of men and arms that he gathered together a great company of soldiers.

The next day, just as they were about to depart, came Mawgis their cousin, telling of how he had taken three horses of the King, laden with gold and silver. "And of this treasure," said he to Reynaud his cousin. "I am ready to give you the half."

So they departed together, and the Duke Aymon met them as they went, and gave them his blessing, and "See," said he to the three, "that you obey your brother Reynaud, for he is good at counsel." To the Duchess, when she was nigh distracted at the departure of her children, he said, "Be not troubled over much; we shall see them come again in great prosperity and honour."

CHAPTER IV
THE COMING OF ROLAND

Reynaud and his brothers, with Mawgis their cousin, came in their riding to Poictiers, where it was told them that John, King of Gascony was hard pressed by the Saracens. Reynaud said to his comrades, "Let us go to the help of the King." To this they consented, and so coming to the city of Bordeaux were joyfully received by the King and his courtiers.

Not many days after, the King of the Saracens came to Bordeaux, and Reynaud and his comrades went forth from the city to attack him. Then followed a great battle, and the Saracens fled, whom Reynaud pursued so hotly that all his friends counted him to have been slain. Great, therefore, was their joy when Reynaud came back, not only safe and sound, but bringing with him the King of the Saracens, as prisoner, for he had taken him in single combat. Thereupon, King John, holding that he could not honour too greatly so valiant a knight, yielded to him a fair hill whereon was a castle, and gave him also his sister in marriage. This castle Reynaud made very strong with towers and the like, and called it Montalban; and for a while the brothers had peace.

It befell that King Charles, going on a pilgrimage, saw this same hill with the castle built upon it, and much admiring, would know who dwelt there. When he heard that it was the castle of the sons of Aymon, he was very wroth, and sent an embassy, of which Ogier the Dane was the leader, to King John, demanding that the brothers and their company should be delivered to him. "I will do no such thing," said the King. Thereupon King Charles said to his barons, "You see how this man defies us. Come now, we will go to Paris, and hold a council of the whole realm, and consider how we shall deal with him."

When the Council was assembled, the King stood up, and set the matter before them. Then the Duke Naymes spake in this fashion; "Sir, we are wrong in this war; let us have peace for five years; after that, if you are so minded, we will fight again." This counsel angered the King greatly, but while he doubted what he should say, there came to the palace a young man, very fair, and well arrayed, with thirty squires following him, and did obeisance to the King. "Tell me your name," said Charles. "Sire," answered the stranger, "my name is Roland, and I am your nephew, being son of your sister that is married to the Duke of Milan." "You are welcome," said the King. "To-morrow I will make you a knight and you shall make war upon these traitors, the sons of Aymon." "That I will do right willingly," answered Roland, "seeing that Reynaud slew my cousin, Berthelot."

On the morrow the King made Roland a knight. But while they sat at the feast, there came a messenger saying that the city of Cologne was beset of Saracens. Said Roland to the King, "Let me go against these infidels," and the King answered, "You shall go." So Roland went with twenty thousand men well armed and fell upon the Saracens, and took from them spoils and prisoners, and overcame their King in single combat, bringing him back to Paris and delivering him to the King.

The King said to Duke Naymes, "How did Roland, my nephew, bear himself in the battle?" "Never did knight bear himself better," answered the Duke, "only he needs a horse that should carry him well when he is fully armed. I counsel you, therefore, to make a proclamation that there shall be a race of all the best horses in your realm, and that you will give to the horse that shall prevail your crown of gold, and five hundred marks of fine silver, and a hundred rolls of silk." "This is good counsel," said the King, and he caused proclamation to be made, and the lists to be set up.

Now it chanced that a yeoman of Gascony, being in Paris, heard the proclamation, and going back to his own country told the matter to Reynaud and Mawgis. When Reynaud heard it, he laughed and said: "Now shall the King see as good a race as ever was run in the world, for I will go to Paris with Bayard and win this prize." "I will go with you," said Mawgis, "and your brethren also, and we will have with us some knights well armed."

So Reynaud and his company set out, and when any one would know who they were, they said that they were from Bearn, and that they were journeying to Paris to run their horses in the King's race. When they were now near to Paris, Mawgis, being a great magician, took a certain herb that he knew, and when he had pounded it with the pommel of his sword, and tempered it with water, he rubbed Bayard therewith, so that he became all white. And he took another herb that he knew and therewith caused Reynaud to look like a youth of twenty years. When the others saw Reynaud and his horse, how changed they were, they laughed aloud. Then Reynaud and Mawgis parted from them, and went on alone to Paris with Bayard the horse.

Meanwhile, the King had sent the Duke Naymes, and Ogier the Dane, and another, with a hundred knights to keep the road from Orleans, that none might pass without their knowledge. There they abode, not a few days, suffering much from hunger and thirst. "What do we here?" said Duke Naymes. "Does the King hold us to be fools that he makes us tarry here for nothing?" "You say well," said Ogier the Dane, "let us go back." But even as he spake, they were aware of two men on horseback. Said the Duke, "That horse is Bayard, but that he is of another colour." When the men were near, the Duke said to them, "Who are you?" Mawgis answered, "My name is Sousser, and I come from Peron, and this is my son, but he speaks no French." The Duke said to Reynaud, "Man, know you anything of Reynaud, the son of Aymon?" Reynaud answered him with strange words that no man could understand. "What devil taught thee to speak such strange French? Maybe 'tis Latin, but thou art more like to a fool than to a bishop." And he suffered the two to pass in peace.

When they came to Paris some ill fellow saw them, and cried in a loud voice, "This is Reynaud, son of Aymon," at which saying many ran together. Thereupon the villain, growing bold, caught Bayard by the bridle. But the horse smote the man on the breast with his fore foot, and killed him.

Then the two rode on, and took a lodging in an inn; where when they bedded their horses, Mawgis took a thread of silk and waxed it well and after bound the fore feet of Bayard. Said the host, "Why do you this? The horse can run but ill being so bound. But tell me who is the knight; had he more years he were like Reynaud the son of Aymon." Mawgis answered, "I bound the horse's feet because he is given to fighting. As for his rider he is my son." But it chanced that, not long after, Mawgis named Reynaud by name, and the host heard it and said, "This beyond all doubt is Reynaud who slew the King's nephew. Truly, before I sleep, I will tell the matter to the King." Reynaud heard the man speak and straightway slew him. Thereat there was no small outcry, but the two knights mounted on their horses, and mingling with the crowd, so escaped.

After mass the King and his lords went down to a certain meadow that is by the river Seine, where the race should be run. And the two knights went with him, but Bayard having his foot bound halted much. Then said one knight, "See here the horse that will win the prize," and another said, "Verily, he will win, if God so favour him." And they laughed him to scorn.

When the trumpets sounded for the starting of the horses they all ran. When Mawgis saw this, he lighted from his horse and cut the thread of silk that was bound about Bayard's foot. And Reynaud spurred his horse, saying to him, "Bayard, we are far behind, now it is time for you to haste." When Bayard heard his master so speak, he understood him as well as though he had been a man. Straightway he held up his head, and stretched forth his neck, and ran so fast that he speedily passed all the other horses. When the King saw this he said to Richard of Normandy, "This white horse is marvellously swift, and he is like to Bayard, the horse of Reynaud, son of Aymon." Reynaud, having prevailed in the race, took the crown of gold, but the silver and the silk he disdained. Then having the crown in his hand, he rode back to the palace where the King sat with his lords. The King said to him, "I will give you for your horse such treasure as will content you." Reynaud answered: "Sire, I have angered you many times, and slain your men, and now I carry away your crown. Know that I am Reynaud, son of Aymon. Seek elsewhere for a horse that you may give to Roland your nephew. But Bayard you shall not have." So saying he spurred his horse, and rode away, and when he had travelled certain miles, then came Mawgis on his black horse. So these two returned to the castle of Montalban, and were received with great joy.

CHAPTER V
OF THE TREACHERY OF KING JOHN

King Charles said to his knights and barons, "See now how this villain Reynaud has deceived me, and carried away my crown. Devise some means by which I may recover that which I have lost." "You must besiege," said the Duke Naymes, "his castle of Montalban." So the King gathered together a great army, so great indeed that provisions failed them. After Easter he set out from Paris, and in due time came to Reynaud's castle, Montalban.

The King had made Roland captain of his host. When Roland therefore saw the castle, he being even overbold, said to the King, "Let us assault this place without delay." But the King answered, "Not so, we will first try them, whether they will yield up the place peaceably." He sent therefore a messenger who should say to Reynaud, "The King bids you yield up your castle and also your brother Richard. If you refuse he will take it by force, and hang up both you and him." Reynaud answered, "I am not one that betrays friends. But if the King will assure to us our lives and our castle we will yield ourselves to him." To this the King would not consent. Therefore he besieged the place meaning to reduce it by famine, for he perceived that it could not be taken by force.

It fell on a certain day that Roland, seeing that there were many birds by the river, was minded to go hawking. So he went with Oliver his comrade (this Oliver was a very noble knight, and a close friend to Roland) and a company of knights, the bravest of the host. This was seen by a certain spy, who told it to Reynaud and Mawgis. Mawgis said, "Cousin, you will do well to attack the King's host, for they are not thinking of battle." So these two issued forth from the castle and four thousand knights with them.

Turpin the Archbishop[[1]] was in charge of the King's host. When he saw the enemy come forth from the castle, he was not a little troubled. First he called to Ogier the Dane that he should arm himself, and afterwards to the other barons and knights that they should make ready for battle.

[[1]] The real Turpin was, it would seem, Tilpin, Archbishop of Rheims from 754 to 794. We do not know that Tilpin was a warrior, but his predecessor, Milo by name, is said to have been a "warrior clerk," and as such to have been put into the archbishopric by Charles Martel.

First Reynaud slew a certain knight of the King's army. When Turpin the Archbishop saw this he spurred his horse against Reynaud. The two met with so great force that the spears of both were broken in pieces; but Reynaud being the quicker to draw his sword dealt the Archbishop so grievous a blow that both he and his horse were well-nigh brought to the ground. Then cried Reynaud, "Father, are you that Turpin that boasts himself so much? By my faith you were better singing mass in some church than fighting with me." The Archbishop was much angered at these words, and made at Reynaud with all his might. But neither he nor Ogier the Dane nor any one of the King's men could hold their ground that day against the sons of Aymon. And when Mawgis and his knights came forth from the wood where they lay in ambush, and assailed the King's host on the flank, then the Frenchmen fled, not without great loss, especially at the crossing of the river. The knights from Montalban pursued them for a mile or so, and Mawgis took the golden dragon that was on Roland's tent (for Roland had not yet come back from hawking) and set it on the great tower of Montalban, so that all men might see it. When the King saw it he said, "Now has Roland taken the fortress of these villains." But when he knew the truth, he was well-nigh beside himself with rage.

Meanwhile King John was not a little troubled in mind. For he said to himself, "How will these things end? These five knights, for all that they are brave warriors, cannot always prevail against the power of the King." So he called his barons to a council, and demanded their advice. One said one thing, and another another, but the greater part had little love for Reynaud. Of these a certain old man that was called Earl Antony was the spokesman. He said, "I know this Reynaud, of how haughty a temper he is. His father had but a single town, and now he holds himself so high that he disdains to be the King's man. And now you have nourished his pride, giving him your sister to wife. And the end will be that he will take your kingdom from you, and have it for himself. If you would save yourself from such dishonour, deliver him and his brethren to the King."

When King John saw that this counsel pleased the greater part of his barons, he was much troubled in mind, and wept for grief and shame. Nevertheless he called his secretary to him, and said, "Now write to the King and say that, if he will leave wasting my land, I will presently deliver to him the sons of Aymon and Mawgis their cousin. If he will send to Vancouleurs, there he will find them, clothed with mantles of scarlet trimmed with fur, and riding upon mules." So the secretary wrote according to these words in a letter, and gave the letter to a knight that he might take it to King Charles. When the King had read the letter, he was very glad. And he delivered to the messenger of the King a letter wherein he had written what it was in his mind to do, namely, to send Ogier the Dane with a company of knights who should take the brethren prisoner. Also he sent from his treasury four mantles of scarlet, trimmed with fur.

When King John had received the letter with the mantles, he commanded a hundred knights to make themselves ready to ride with him to the Castle of Montalban. When he was come to the castle his sister came forth to greet him, but when she would have kissed him, as her custom was, he turned his face aside, saying, "Pardon me, my sister, I have an ill tooth that troubles me sore." Not long after the brethren came back to the castle, and when they heard that the King was there, they took each his horn and sounded a welcome. When the King heard the sound, he thought no little shame of himself, yet did not turn from his purpose. When he saw the brethren, he said to them, "I have spoken for you to King Charles, and he has promised that if you will go to the plain of Vancouleurs riding on mules, clad in scarlet mantles which I will presently give you, with flowers in your hands and without arms, he will make peace with you. For as soon as you shall cast yourselves at his feet, he will pardon you and give you again your lands."

There was not a little debate among the brethren on this matter, for Reynaud was minded to go, but the others were unwilling. The wife of Reynaud also was set against the journey, telling him of a terrible dream that she had dreamed. "I saw," she said, "a thousand wild boars come out of the forest of Ardennes. These fell upon you, and rent your body in pieces. I saw how Alard was slain by an arrow by Frenchmen, and how Richard was hanged on an apple tree." "Hold your peace," said Reynaud. "He that puts his trust in dreams has but little faith in God. Think you that your brother will betray us? Does he not send eight of his chief barons with us for surety." To his brethren he said, "If you are fearful then will I go alone."

So the four went their way to Vancouleurs, not without fears, for Reynaud himself doubted to what the matter might grow. Now the plain of Vancouleurs was a solitary place, where four ways met, with forests on every side, in which forests, by command of the King, many hundreds of knights lay in ambush, ready to issue forth and fall upon the brethren. Of these knights Ogier the Dane was the chief, and was not a little in doubt how he should bear him, for on the one hand he was near of kin to the brethren, and on the other he was bound in duty to perform the command of the King. Sometimes he was inclined one way, and sometimes another. First he suffered the brethren to pass unharmed when he might have taken them at a disadvantage in a narrow road; afterwards, when they were in the plain, he himself led his knights against them.

When the brethren found that a great treachery had been practised upon them, they prepared to defend themselves, having first confessed their sins to each other, for lack of a priest to whom they might confess. Great deeds did they that day, but not without suffering many things. First Guichard was taken prisoner by the King's men and bound upon a horse. Yet Reynaud delivered him from captivity. Then Richard was grievously wounded by Gerard Lord of Valence, and came very near to death, but him also Reynaud, than whom there was never greater fighter in the world, rescued before it was too late. And indeed it was in Richard's counsel that the brethren found deliverance. For when he opened his eyes, having before been in a swoon, and saw Reynaud, he said to him, "See you that rock yonder that is so high and strong? If we can win thither, we shall be safe from our enemies, at least for one while. Nor do I doubt that Mawgis, who knows things that are hidden from other men, knows in what plight we are, and will bring us help presently."

And Alard lifted Richard from the earth, and laid him upon his shield, and carried him to the rock, Reynaud and Guichard holding back meanwhile the King's men with such strength and valour as have never been surpassed, for they fought as men who have no hope for their lives, but think only how they may make most havoc among their enemies. And now again did Ogier the Dane render them good service. Truly they had scarce won their way to the rock but for this, for when they were most hardly pressed he drew back his own company the length of a bowshot. "You can deal with these men without me," said he to the King's barons. "It were better that I should not meddle with them any more, seeing that they are my kinsmen." And so somewhat by favour of Ogier, but chiefly by their own valour, the brethren won their way to the rock.

Now the rock had four faces. Of these Reynaud kept two, so strong was he, and Guichard one and Alard one. As for Richard he was so spent with loss of blood that he lay upon the ground and could render no help. After a while an evil chance fell upon them, for Guichard was so sorely wounded in the thigh that he could no longer stand upon his feet. He cried to Reynaud, "Let us yield ourselves to the King, seeing that neither Richard nor I can help you any more." "This is to speak as a coward," answered Reynaud. "I would not yield myself for all the gold and silver in the world, no nor for Bayard my horse, though I love him better than all other things. And, indeed, what were the profit of yielding ourselves? We should of a certainty be hanged by the King, and it were better to perish here than to die in so shameful a fashion." When Guichard heard these words he was greatly troubled in spirit. "You are right, brother," he said. "Cut me now the half of my shirt into strips and I will bind up my wounds as best I may, and so make shift to help you against our enemies." This he did; so these three still held the rock against the King.

Meanwhile Mawgis knew how his kinsmen had been betrayed, and made haste to succour them. He saddled the horse Bayard, and rode with a great company of knights as fast as might be to the place where the brethren were. Great was Reynaud's joy to see him; while he was yet a long way off he knew him, not so much for himself as for the horse Bayard on which he rode. Swift as a swallow was Bayard, every stride was of thirty feet at the least. When Richard heard it, he said to his brother, "Lift me up in your arms that I may see him." So Reynaud lifted him up, and when he saw Mawgis and Bayard coming up as a storm comes he said, "The sight makes me whole again."

Ogier the Dane was glad to see that help had come to his kinsmen. "See you these men?" he said to the Frenchmen, "we cannot stand against them; let us retreat." But while he was speaking, Mawgis came upon him, so swift was the horse Bayard, and defied him. "Ogier," he said, "you came of true men, but you are yourself untrue," and he spurred Bayard against him, and smote him on the breast with his spear so stoutly that he broke both shield and corslet. What would have been the end no man can say, for Ogier on his part was not backward, but now the horse Bayard, knowing that his master was near, carried away Mawgis in his own despite, and came and knelt before Reynaud. Then Mawgis lighted down from him, and greeted the brethren most lovingly.

As for Ogier and the Frenchmen, not being minded to stand against the new-comers, they rode back to the river Dordogne, Reynaud crying out to his kinsman, "Ho! cousin! have you then left being a soldier and become a fisherman for eels or salmon?"

When they had crossed over the river the Frenchmen blamed Ogier the Dane, for that he had favoured the brethren, while Ogier, on his part, was greatly troubled, knowing that they spake truly, and yet that the brethren held him in no regard for all that he had done. These things so wrought upon him that he mounted his horse and swam back across the river. When he had come to the other bank, Reynaud, having ridden down to the river on Bayard to meet him, said, "Cousin, surely we have had enough of fighting; let us be content therewith." But Ogier answered, "You have blamed me for treachery, and my own friends say the same thing. I would rather be slain than endure such reproaches."

Reynaud said, "So be it." And the two charged at each other and met with so great a shock that both were thrust from their saddles and fell to the ground. Before they could raise themselves, for both received no small damage, the two horses, Bayard and the other, fell to fighting. Then Ogier, knowing that Bayard was the stronger by far of the two, would have smitten him with his sword. Reynaud, on the other hand, hindered him. And when Mawgis and the brothers, that is to say, Alard and Guichard, for Richard was too sorely wounded, saw this, they made all haste to come. When Ogier perceived them, he had no choice but to mount on his horse and flee. Then Reynaud cried after him, "Come back if you will and fetch your saddle," for the girths had been broken when the two jousted together, "and I will greet you in such a place that Charlemagne with all his men could not help you." So Ogier passed over the river once again, and Mawgis with the brethren went back to the rock where they had left Richard.

CHAPTER VI
OF THE CRAFT OF MAWGIS

When King John of Gascony heard all the trouble that had befallen the brethren, on the one side, and the Emperor and his knights, on the other, he could not rest, so much did his conscience trouble him. So having bidden farewell to his sister Clare, Reynaud's wife, he sought a certain Abbey, and there took a monk's habit. But a certain man that was a spy was aware of the matter, and told it to Roland. Also he said that the brethren and Mawgis were journeying to Montalban. Then Roland, having first called Oliver, said, "We will go now and fight with the sons of Aymon, and we will take four thousand men only with us, so that we shall have no advantage over them, inasmuch as they have five thousand well horsed and well armed." Said Ogier the Dane, "I will go with you and see how you fare, and I promise that if you lay hands on them I will lend you a rope."

Roland first came to the Abbey, and said to the Abbot. "You have here in a monk's habit a certain John, whom men call King of Gascony. Deliver him to me that I may hang him as a thief." And when the Abbot would not consent, Roland entered the cloister, and took King John by force, the man being known to him, and set him on a horse, with his face to the tail. The King said to a certain knight whom he knew, "Go now to Reynaud and say that I am in sore straits." "Sir," said the knight, "I doubt whether Reynaud will so much as stir a foot to help you." Nevertheless he consented to go.

Now Reynaud had come by this time to the castle of Montalban. But when his wife the Lady Clare came forth to meet him, he would not suffer her to come near to him. "Go," he said, "to your false brother John." The children also, for he had two sons, he spurned away. "I will have none of this evil brood," said he. But when the Lady Clare swore by all the Saints that she had no knowledge of her brother's wickedness and fell in a swoon at his feet, and his brothers also made intercession for her, his heart was softened, and he consented to receive her again.

As they sat at meat there came the knight from King John. He said, "King John is in sore straits. Roland has taken him prisoner, and is stedfastly purposed to hang him. The King knows that he has sinned grievously against you, nevertheless he prays that you will help him." Then cried Alard, "If Roland hang that traitor, he will do well." But Reynaud said nothing.

When he had thought a long while he began to speak, telling all the story of his life, how he had himself done wrong to others, and how he had suffered many things, and was bound to show mercy rather than hardness. "King John," he said, "would have betrayed me, but he did it for fear of King Charles. It becomes me to help him in his need."

To this the brethren consented, though not willingly. So they set forth, having six thousand men on horseback, and one thousand on foot, and before they had gone many hours' journey there came Roland and Oliver and Ogier the Dane, having King John with them, as has been said.

When Ogier saw them, he greatly rejoiced. "If one had given me a thousand marks in gold," he said, "it had not pleased me so well as that Roland should meet the brethren and Mawgis and learn of what quality they are." To Roland he said, "See now what you have desired so long. If you take these men alive the King will give you great thanks therefor, and you will have Bayard for your own, and the war will be ended." Roland answered "Ogier, you say not this in kindness, but I will do my best."

Reynaud, on the other part, when he saw Roland and his company, said to his brothers, "Stay you behind till you are wanted. I will make trial of this great Roland." And when they would have kept him back he said, "I know that he is the strongest knight in all the world. Nevertheless I will meet him, for mine is the right cause and his the wrong. Therefore I shall certainly prevail."

When the two armies were now near, Oliver said to Roland, "these men are too many for us." "Not so," answered Roland, "the Gascons are but cowards." "Maybe," said Turpin the Archbishop, "but they have a good leader this day, and a valiant man has ever valiant men to follow him."

REYNAUD KNEELING TO ROLAND.

Roland, liking this talk but little, rode forth to meet Reynaud. But Reynaud, when he was now at the distance to charge, lighted down off Bayard, and fixing his spear in the earth, tethered his horse, and running forward knelt before Roland and said to him, "I pray you to have pity on me, for you are of kin to me. I will give you Bayard my horse, that is the most precious thing I have, and my lordship of Montalban, if you can make the King to be at peace with us. Further, I promise that I will leave France for the rest of my days, and go to the Holy Land with my brothers and Mawgis, and there make war upon the Saracens."

Roland was much troubled at these words, and said, "I would that it might be, but the King will not make peace except you deliver to him Mawgis." "Mawgis," said Reynaud, "is not one that a man can give or take. And now seeing that I have humbled myself in vain let us two settle this matter. There is no need that others should shed their blood, but we only. If you overcome me then shall you take me to the King, that he may do with me as he will; but if I, on the other hand, overcome, then will I take you to Montalban, but you shall suffer no harm or shame."

To this Roland consented, but his friends would not suffer it to be so. So the two armies met together in battle, and many were slain on both sides, but in the end Reynaud and his men prevailed over Roland and his army. Nevertheless Reynaud suffered this great loss and damage, that his brother Richard, having assailed Roland, was overthrown and taken prisoner.

When Reynaud heard these tidings he was greatly troubled, and would have given himself up to King Charles, if he might so deliver his brother. But this the others would not suffer. Then said Mawgis, "Trouble not yourselves about Richard, I will set him free. Do you go to Montalban." But they doubted how he should do this, and were in great heaviness.

Meanwhile Mawgis disguised himself in such a fashion that no one could know him. By eating of a certain herb he made himself much bigger to see, and with another herb he darkened his face almost to blackness. Then he put on him the habit of a pilgrim, having a mantle and hood, and great boots on his feet, and a staff in his hand. This done, he conveyed himself with more speed than if he had ridden the swiftest of horses to the King's camp, for he was a magician, as has been said. This speed he used that he might be beforehand with Roland.

When he was come to the Camp, he watched till the King came forth from his tent, and said to him, "God keep you, Sir, from all treason!" Now the King, having been deceived many times, said, "Who is this knave? Does he compass some treason?" For a while the false pilgrim made no answer. But then, as one that takes courage to speak, he said, "Sir, you may see that I am a poor man that has more need of health than of compassing treason. I am newly come from Jerusalem, where I worshipped at the Holy Sepulchre, and now I must go to Rome and to St. James of Compostella, but I am in great trouble. Yesterday, as I was passing over the river Gironde with ten men that I had to guard me, there fell upon me some thieves that slew all my men and took all that I had. These thieves told me that they were the four sons of Amyon, and one Mawgis, their cousin. And when I asked them why they dealt so hardly with me, they answered that they were in such sore need at their castle of Montalban that they could not choose but rob all wayfarers. Then they beat me and let me go. And now, Sire, I pray that you will avenge me of these robbers."

The King answered, "Gladly would I avenge you if I might, but I can do nothing against these men." And the false pilgrim said, "If I cannot have help of man, yet surely I shall have it of God." The King said, "This seems to be a godly man." And he turned to his lords. "It would be a good deed to give this pilgrim alms." And he commanded his steward to give him twenty pounds in silver.

When Mawgis received the money, he said to himself, "Surely you shall have a reward for this." But aloud he said, "I pray you, Sire, to give me some meat, for since yesterday I have neither eaten nor drunk." And the King commanded that he should be served with the very best.

So Mawgis ate and drank; he said nothing, but looked very earnestly at the King. And Charlemagne said, "Tell me, pilgrim, why you look so earnestly upon me?" The false pilgrim answered, "Sire, I have travelled in many lands, but never saw I, whether among Saracens or Christian men, so godly and courteous a prince. Now, therefore, of all the pardons that I have I will give you half." "That," answered the King, "is a fair gift. I take it willingly." So the false pilgrim gave him his staff to kiss for a token.

And now came Roland with Richard his prisoner. But before he had audience of the King, the Duke Naymes and other Barons said to him, "It will be ill done if you deliver Richard to the King. Let him depart in peace." "That," answered Roland, "I will do right willingly if I may."

But a certain yeoman that was standing by heard the Barons and Roland talking together, and told the matter to the King. And he, coming forth from his tent, when he saw Richard, cried, "Villain, now that I have you, I will see that you are hanged by the neck," and he smote him with his staff. Then Richard leapt upon the King, for he had been unbound, and the two wrestled together and fell to the earth. But the Barons laid hands upon them and held them apart.

When Mawgis saw how the King had smitten Richard, he had much ado to keep still. Nevertheless he restrained himself, making a sign to Richard, and when Richard knew him he was glad, being sure that he should be delivered by his means.

After this Mawgis departed from the King's camp, and went with all speed to Montalban. Being come there, he said to the three brethren, "Richard is yet alive, but he is in great straits. Come and deliver him while there is yet time." Thereupon they all set out. But when they were come near to the camp, and had hidden themselves in a wood that was hard by, it so happened that for weariness they all fell into a deep sleep. And this thing came near to the undoing of Richard.

Meanwhile the King called his Barons together. First he said to Berenger, Lord of Valois, "I will make you quit of all service to me if you will take this knave Richard and see that he is hanged." Berenger answered, "You love me little, my lord King, if you make such a demand of me. I will not do this thing."

Then the King said to another of the Barons, "You hold Bavaria of me, and are bound to serve me with three thousand men. I will quit you of this service if you will hang this knave Richard." "I will not hurt the man," answered the Earl.

Then he turned to Ogier the Dane and said, "Now, if you would prove me your love, hang this fellow." "Nay," answered Ogier, "I will not, and, moreover, I hold any man to be my enemy that shall harm Richard."

At the last he said to Turpin the Archbishop, "Hang this Richard, and I will make you Pope of Rome." "Sire," answered Turpin, "to do so would be against my priest's duty."

At last the King prevailed with a certain knight, Ripus by name, that he should do this deed. So this Ripus, having put a halter about Richard's neck, led him to the gallows which had been set up outside the wood. And when Richard would have given him gold he would have none of it. Only he suffered that a priest should shrive him, to whom indeed Richard confessed more sins than he had committed in his whole life, so gaining a little time, for he yet looked for help. And when the shriving was ended, then he begged for time wherein he might make his prayers, nor could Ripus say him nay.

And now, when he was in the greatest need, did the good horse Bayard help him, for he, having such wit as never horse had before, seeing that Reynaud his master was fast asleep, smote with his hoof on his shield that he woke him, and he, looking up, the gallows being hard by the wood, saw Richard now beginning to mount the ladder that was set against the gallows. Then he leapt on Bayard's back, and made all haste to deliver Richard, Mawgis and Alard and Guichard following him with all the speed they could use.

As for Ripus and his men, they could make no stand against the brothers and Mawgis. Many were slain, and the rest were right glad to fly. Then Reynaud took the bodies of Ripus and fifteen of his knights that lay dead upon the plain and hanged them on the gallows that had been set up for Richard.

CHAPTER VII
MORE DEEDS OF MAWGIS

When Reynaud had accomplished the delivering of his brother Richard, he sent the greater part of his company back to Montalban, but he himself remained with the rest, being minded to do some great thing against King Charles. And this he did, for making his way into the camp with his comrades, he came to the King's tent. Cutting the cords, so that the whole tent fell to the ground, he laid hands on the golden Eagle that was on the great pole in the middle, a thing so costly that no man could tell the price thereof. In this Mawgis helped him.

But this adventure had nearly turned out to the great disadvantage of the brothers and Mawgis. For Mawgis was not content with the taking of the Eagle, but would have slain the King. He made his way into the inner part of the tent where the King lay, and said to him, "Sir King, you have troubled us over long, slaying my father and doing us all manner of mischief. And now you shall die." So saying, he thrust at the King with his spear; but the King turned about, and the spear was thrust into the bed two feet and more. Then was King Charles sore afraid, and cried out for Roland. When Mawgis heard this he looked round, and lo! Reynaud and the brethren were gone.

When he found himself to be alone, then, for all that he was as stout a warrior as ever bare arms, he was not a little troubled, and turned to flee. But many of the King's knights pursued him, and hindered him from escaping, and at the last Oliver overthrew him, casting him down from his horse to the ground, so that he was fain to yield himself prisoner. And Oliver took him to the King's tent.

When the King saw him, he was very glad, and said, "Now, you false thief, you shall pay for all the villainies that you have done." "Sir King," answered Mawgis, "you have me in your power and you can work your will upon me. Nevertheless, I will counsel you for the best. Make peace, and you shall have the best knights in all the world to serve you. But if you slay me, you shall get from the deed no profit but much harm."

The King said to his Barons: "Now cause that they make a gallows, so that I may hang this Mawgis or ever we sup." "Sir," said the Duke Naymes, "I advise you to wait till the morrow. Your enemies will mock you, saying that you durst not do this man to death in daylight for fear of them." But the King answered, "I should be shamed, indeed, if this fellow should escape."

When Mawgis heard these words, he said to the King, "If this is what you fear, I will give you my word that I will not go away without taking leave of you in due form." "But who will be your surety?" said the King. Then Mawgis looking round, saw the twelve Peers, and he said to Oliver, "Sir, when I yielded myself to you, you promised to be surety for me to the King." Then he turned him to Roland, and made the like request and so with all the Twelve. And the Peers consented to his request, and stood surety for him.

Then Mawgis said to the King, "I am hungry, give me some meat." "Can you eat," said the King, "being in such a plight?" But the Duke Naymes said: "The man that has eaten is better prepared for all things." "So be it," said the King; "but where shall the fellow sit?" "He should best sit by you," said Roland. "You say well," answered the King, "for indeed I cannot trust him to be elsewhere."

After supper the King commanded that the Twelve Peers should watch Mawgis through the night. Nor was he even then content, for he called for irons, and bound the man's hands and his feet. And the key of the irons he kept. "Now," said he, "you shall not escape me, you false thief." "Think you so?" said Mawgis. "Nevertheless, I shall be at Montalban to-morrow before prime." And the King was so wroth, that he would have slain the man forthwith, only the Peers hindered him.

This done, they sat down to play at the tables, and at chess, and at other games. After a while they all felt a great desire to sleep. Whereupon Mawgis began to work upon them with his magic. First he made their sleep to be stronger by far, so that the King and the Peers and the whole company were altogether mastered by it. Then with another charm he loosed the collar from his neck and the fetters from his legs. Then seeing that the King had fallen with his head awry, he took a pillow and set it under him. Also he took from him his sword Joyous, and from Roland his sword Durendal, and the sword which Oliver carried, Hautclere by name. Also he took much treasure out of the King's treasury. When he had so done, he took a herb that he had, and rubbed the King's nose and lips with it, and said, "Wake, Sir King, I said that I should not go without taking leave. Now, therefore, farewell," and he vanished out of the place.

When the King came to himself, he was so angry as never man was before. He would have woke the Peers, but could not, so fast asleep were they. Then he bethought him of a certain herb that he had brought from overseas. This he rubbed on the nose and mouth and eyes of the Peers, and they awoke forthwith. Said the Duke Naymes, "Where now is Mawgis?" "He is gone," answered the King, "and by your fault, for ye hindered me when I would have hanged him." "Did you see him depart?" said Oliver to Roland, "No, by St. Denis," answered Roland. But the King said, "I saw him go with my own eyes." "Then you should have warned us," said Roland, and as he spake he put his hand to his side and missed his good sword Durendal. And when the Peers found that their swords were gone they were fairly distraught with anger.

The next day the King said to his Barons: "Go now to Reynaud, and tell him that if he will give back to me my golden Eagle and my crown, and my sword Joyous, then I will grant him a truce for two years. Ogier shall take this message, and the Duke Naymes and Turpin the Archbishop."

So these mounted their horses and rode to Montalban. When they were come to the gate, they called the porter and said to him, "We be knights of the King, and would fain speak with Sir Reynaud." So the porter told the thing to the brethren.

Richard went to the gate and saluted them courteously, and brought them into the castle, where they were honourably received by Reynaud and the Lady Clare, Alard also and Guichard helping. Then Ogier delivered his message, and Reynaud said, "Tarry here, my lords, this night, and we will give you an answer in the morning." To this they consented. So a great feast was prepared, and they sat down and were right royally entertained.

The next day the Duke Naymes said to Reynaud, "What answer do you make to the King?" Reynaud answered, "I will do as he desires."

When Ogier the Dane heard this, he was glad, and thought within himself, "Now will the King be greatly pleased. Maybe there shall be not a truce only, but peace. If I can move Reynaud to come back with us to the King, the two may well be reconciled." So he told his thought to Reynaud and Reynaud consented to it.

The next day they set out. Ogier and the Duke Naymes went on with all speed they might use to the King's camp; but Reynaud and Alard followed slowly with Turpin and another.

In the meanwhile a certain spy, having knowledge of the whole matter, made haste to tell it to the King, and this he did before that Ogier and the Duke were come to the camp. When the King heard it, he said to Oliver: "Take with you two hundred knights, and ride with all haste to the river of Besançon, where, if you use diligence, you will find Reynaud and Alard. Lay hold of them and bring them hither to me."

So Oliver rode with his knights, and when he was come to the river, he found Reynaud on foot and Bayard his horse so far from him that he could not mount him; so he was taken unawares. Then he turned to Turpin and that other in great anger, saying, "Villains, you have betrayed me." "Sir," answered Turpin, "I swear to you that I am innocent in this matter."

Reynaud said to Oliver, "Remember you how I helped you at Vancouleurs when you were borne to the ground, giving you again your horse and helping you to mount." "I remember it well," answered Oliver. "No man shall harm you if I can hinder him. Nevertheless I must take you to the King." So they set out to go to the camp.

But the Duke Naymes and Ogier and Oliver and all the Peers made entreaty to the King, that he would make peace with the brethren. But he hardened his heart against them. "You waste your breath," he said, "I will do the thing that I choose, though you all shall say me nay;" and turning to Reynaud he said, "You shall not cheat me as did that false thief Mawgis, for I will cut you into pieces and burn the pieces with fire." "Sir," answered Reynaud, "you shall not do so, God being my helper."

The King, being thus defied, turned him to Ogier, and said, "Ogier, will you take the part of my mortal enemy?" "That will not I," answered Ogier; "nevertheless I will defend my honour against all men, even against the King."

Then said Reynaud, "Sir, you have said that I am a traitor. Now know that I am no traitor, neither is there a traitor in all my house and kindred. And if any man say ought against me or my kinsmen, then will I fight with him, man to man." The King answered, "I will prove my accusation against you by force of arms." Then Reynaud said again. "Sir, you speak as a King should speak. I give you my gage that I am as true a man as any that lives in the world." "I will take your gage," answered the King, "If so be you can find sureties." Then Ogier and Turpin and the Duke Naymes and another stood sureties for him.

Reynaud said to the King, "Are you content with these sureties." "That I am," answered the King. Then Reynaud would know with whom he should fight. "With me," said the King. But when Roland heard this, he said, "It must not be so, Sire; I will fight in your place." And so it was ordered. Then Reynaud, being mounted on Bayard, with the Duke Naymes and Ogier and other Peers, returned to Montalban.

CHAPTER VIII
HOW MAWGIS BECAME A HERMIT

Reynaud entertained the Barons that night in Royal fashion. The next day, after they had heard mass, he was minded to set forth, and he said to his brothers and Mawgis, "Tarry here and keep this castle." "Nay," said Alard, "we will come with you. Maybe you will have need of help." "Alard has spoken well," said Ogier the Dane. Then said Reynaud to Mawgis, "You at the least will tarry here." "That will I do, fair cousin," answered Mawgis, "and be sure that Montalban shall suffer no harm through me."

Reynaud rode to Montfaucon, and there he found Roland waiting for him. Roland spake the first, and said, "Be sure, Sir Reynaud, that when you leave the field this day, you will so leave it that you will never again fight with me or any other man." "Such threatenings do not become so good a knight," answered Reynaud. Roland said again, "I am not here for peace, but for war. If you are wise you will keep yourself far from me." "You are overproud," answered Reynaud, "maybe I shall abate your high thoughts."

When Reynaud had spoken these words, he spurred Bayard and charged Roland, and Roland also charged from his side. With so great a shock did they come together, that their spears were broken to pieces. As for Reynaud, he was borne to the earth, his saddle girths breaking, and Roland's feet were thrust out of the stirrups. Then Reynaud rising quickly from the ground smote Roland a mighty blow with his sword, so that he scarce knew where he was. Nevertheless, drawing his good sword Durendal, he made at Reynaud, and dealt him a great stroke. Long and fierce was the battle between these two, for they both were as hardy knights as lived.

Then the Duke Naymes cried to the King, "This is ill done to send to their death two such valiant knights, who might do good service against the heathen. Bid them cease from their fighting, Sir King." But the King said nought.

Reynaud said to Roland, "Let us light down and fight afoot lest by chance we should kill our horses, for if we lose them we are not like to get their like again." With this Roland was content. So they lighted down from their horses and fought on foot. First they fought with swords, but neither one could get the better of the other. When Roland saw that he could not prevail with his sword he caught the other round the waist, and wrestled with him in the same fashion as the Northerners use. So they two strove together for so long a time as a man might take for the running of a mile. Then seeing that neither could throw the other they sat down, being utterly wearied; their helmets and shields were partly broken, and the ground whereon they had stood was trampled as if men had beaten corn thereon.

Then there came to pass a right wonderful thing. There suddenly fell upon the two so thick a cloud that neither could see the other. Then Roland, having bethought himself awhile, said to Reynaud, "Will you do me a courteous turn, and I will some day, if you should need it, do the same to you." Reynaud answered, "I am ready to do whatsoever you shall ask me." Then Roland said, "I will that you take me with you to Montalban, for I am persuaded in my mind that in this matter you have the right and I the wrong."

So Roland mounted his horse, and Reynaud mounted on Bayard, and they rode away side by side. When King Charles saw them he was not a little astonished, and leaping upon his horse he cried aloud, "Now shall I see who is on my side." And he hurried after the two knights, and many Frenchmen went with him.

By this time the King, having been baulked of his will once again, for he had counted it for certain that Roland would overcome Reynaud, was yet more steadfastly determined not to give peace to the brethren; therefore he bade Duke Richard of Normandy ride on and guard the crossing over the river while he himself followed with all the host that he could muster.

So the King and his army came to Montalban and set up his tent before the great gates of the castle. One came to Mawgis and said, "The King is come with a great host, and has set up his tent before the great wall." "Take no heed of this," answered Mawgis; "if the King has done this thing he has done it to his own loss."

When Reynaud knew of the matter he told it to Roland, and Roland said, "I will now send to the King my uncle this message—that Reynaud has dealt with me right courteously; also that he and his brethren and Mawgis will give themselves and their castle into his hands if only he will promise to save us alive." "You speak well," said Reynaud; "I am content to do this."

Then they doubted who should take this message to the King. At last it was agreed that the Duke of Naymes and Ogier the Dane should take it. So these two went to the King where he sat in his tent before the great gates of the castle.

But the King hardened his heart, and would not listen to the Duke Naymes and Ogier. Nay more, he cried, "Flee from this place, ye villains! Reynaud shall have no peace with me till I have Mawgis to do with as I will." Then the Barons went back to the castle and told how they had fared. Reynaud said, "I wonder that the King is so hard of heart. But Mawgis I will not give to him; no, not though I should die for it."

Then they went to supper, and ate their meat with much cheerfulness. Supper being ended, Reynaud said to Mawgis, "Cousin, I pray you to watch this night, for on this hangs the lives of us all." "Sleep in peace," answered Mawgis, "for all shall be well."

When all the Barons were abed Mawgis took Bayard out of his stable and rode to the King's camp. When he was come thither he cast upon all the host, by a charm that he had, a very deep sleep. This done, he went to the King's tent and took him out of his bed and laid him across Bayard, and carried him, still sleeping, to Montalban.

Mawgis went to the chamber of Reynaud and said to him, "Cousin, what would you give me if I should deliver the King into your hands?" "I would give you whatsoever you shall ask," answered Reynaud. "Promise me then that you will do him no harm," said Mawgis. Reynaud answered, "I promise." Then Mawgis led him to his own chamber and showed him the King asleep in his bed.

When Mawgis had delivered the King to Reynaud he went to the stable where he had left Bayard and rubbed the horse's back and head with straw, and kissed him, weeping the while. This done he put on him his pilgrim's garb, and having given the porter all the clothing that he had, went forth from the gate.

Mawgis journeyed till he came to the river Dordogne. This he crossed in a boat, and having passed through a pine forest that was on the other side of the river, came to a well whereby there was a little house with a spring before the door, in which a hermit might conveniently dwell. Having entered the house he saw an oratory and in it an image of Our Lady, and when he had knelt down before it he prayed that Our Lord would forgive him his sins. This done, he made a great vow that he would abide in that place for the rest of his life, eating only such wild things as were in the wood. This he did thinking that if he were away the King would make peace with the brethren.

CHAPTER IX
OF WHAT BEFELL AT MONTALBAN

There was great trouble and wondering when the brethren knew that Mawgis was not in Montalban. So they called the porter and asked him what he knew. The porter said, "Sir Mawgis went out on Bayard; in a little while he came back, having a man of great stature on the horse's neck before him, and went into the castle. Then he came forth again, poorly clad and on another horse. More than this I know not."

When Richard heard this he gnashed his teeth for anger, saying, "All this comes of the hatred that the King bears to us and to our kindred. Fain would I slay him," and he made as if he would draw his sword from the scabbard. But the others held him back, and they reasoned with him till he had promised to do no hurt to the King.

When they told what had happened to Roland and the other Barons they were not a little astonished, and Ogier the Dane said, "All this trouble comes through the King's rage against the brethren, for indeed it is beyond all measure. But now I trust there will be peace. In very truth there has been war too long, and many good knights have been slain."

And now the charm that Mawgis had laid upon the King came to an end, and he woke out of his sleep. And when he knew that he was in the castle of Montalban, being aware that this was of Mawgis's doing, he was yet more angry than before, saying that there should be no peace till Mawgis should be delivered to him.

When Richard heard him speak in this fashion he said, "Do you threaten us, Sire, in this fashion, being a prisoner and in our power?" But Reynaud said, "Be silent, my brother; let the King say what he will; 'tis for us to pray that he make peace with us." Then the brethren and all the knights and Barons that were there, whether of one party or of the other, fell upon their knees before the King, and begged that he would make peace, but the King hardened his heart, saying, "There shall be no peace till Mawgis be delivered to my will."

Reynaud said, "My lord King, if you had my three brothers in your power, and were about to hang them, even then would I not deliver Mawgis to you. But besides this I know not where he is." "I do believe that he is in this very place," said the King. "I swear by my baptism," cried Reynaud, "that this is not so, and I know not whither he is gone."

Then again all the Barons made intercession with the King that he would grant peace to the brethren, and to Mawgis. But the King did not abate in his wrath by one jot. "I will have Mawgis, that I may work my will upon him."

When Reynaud heard these words he rose up from his knees, for before he had been kneeling to the King, and said, speaking to Roland and to the other lords that were of the King's part, "Seeing that the King has hardened his heart, and will have no mercy on me and my kinsmen, I do call you to witness that I will henceforth seek my right by all means that a true knight may lawfully use." Then he turned him to the King and said, "You may go in peace when you will, I will do you no hurt, for you are my sovereign lord."

When the King's Barons heard these words they were not a little astonished, not thinking that any man could deal so generously with his enemy. As for Richard, he was greatly displeased, and said, "Now have you let the enemy go; I fear me much that we shall all pay for this ill courtesy that you have shown to him with our lives." But Reynaud answered, "Be silent, brother; know that I will not compel the King to do that which is against his will. And now depart from my sight, for your high words please me not."

Then Reynaud called to him a gentleman of his household, and said, "Go now without any tarrying to the yeoman that has charge of my horses and bid him bring me Bayard. I will that my sovereign lord should ride back upon him to his camp; better horse he could not have." So the yeoman brought Bayard, and the King mounted upon him and rode him to his camp, where the Frenchmen very gladly received him.

The King bade a squire take Bayard back to Montalban, whom, when Reynaud saw, he said to Roland and the other Barons, "My good lords, I know that the King is displeased with you for your love of me. Now therefore depart and make your peace with him. As for me, if I have aught against you, I forgive it with all my heart."

When the Duke Naymes heard these words, he would have kneeled to Reynaud, but this good knight would not suffer it. Then said the Duke, "Surely it cannot but be that the King's heart will be softened when he shall hear how nobly Reynaud has borne himself in this matter." "You say well," said the other Barons.

Then there were brought from the stables Roland's horse and the horses of the others. When they were now mounted there came forth from the palace the Lady Clare, and said to them, "My lords, I do entreat you to make peace, if by any means it may be done, between the King and my husband, for indeed he bears a large heart, as you very well know." And the Duke Naymes answered, "Lady, we will do it if it may be." So he and his fellows took their leave of Reynaud and the Lady Clare with much sorrow, and rode to the King's camp.

The Barons made intercession to the King that he would accord peace to Reynaud, but he would not hear, but rather was more inflamed with anger than before against him and his kinsmen. First, he bade his men make an assault upon the castle. This they did with great zeal, bringing engines wherewith to cast stones and darts against it, and setting ladders against the walls by which they climbed up to the highest parts. But all these things availed nothing, but rather turned to the damage of the King's men, of whom many were wounded and slain.

When the King perceived that he could not prevail in this way he bade his men cease from assaulting the castle, saying, "If I cannot take the hold of these villains by force I will take it by hunger." He set therefore at every gate two hundred knights, who suffered no man to go out or enter in.

After a while there came to be a great famine in Montalban, so that a man could not buy food for silver or gold, and not a few perished with hunger.

When knowledge of these things came to the King's ears he rejoiced greatly, saying to his Barons, "This time, methinks, Reynaud shall not escape me. By St. Denis, I will hang him, and drag the false Richard at a horse's tail, and deal with Alard and Guichard in the same way."

But Roland and Ogier and the Duke Naymes were very sorry, and made supplication to the King, but he hardened his heart against them.

In the castle the famine was so sore that Reynaud and his people could scarcely keep life in them. Then the Lady Clare said to her husband, "We have more than a hundred horses in the stables, let us, therefore, cause one of them to be slain, that you and I and the children may have a morsel of meat, for indeed we have not had aught for these three days past." And when she had so spoken she fell down in a swoon at her husband's feet.

Then Reynaud went to the stables, and choosing one of the horses, commanded that it should be killed and dressed for food, and this was done, but it was a little thing among so many. And so they did till all the horses were eaten, save four, that is to say Bayard, and one horse of each of the brethren.

At the last it came to this, that there was nothing left to eat but these four horses only. But Richard said, "My horse you shall not have, no, not though we die all of us. Verily we had not been brought to this pass but for our folly when we had the King in our hands and suffered him to go free." When the boy Aymon, that was son to Reynaud, heard this, he said, "What profits it, uncle, to speak of that which is past and gone? Besides this I do not doubt that the kindness which my father showed to the King will turn some day to his profit."

When Richard heard the boy speak so wisely he took him in his arms and kissed him, weeping the while, and said to Reynaud, "Let my horse be killed and given for meat to the Lady Clare and to the young boys my nephews, and to others that have need." And so it was done.

After a few days it came to this, that Bayard only of all the horses was left alive. And when the brethren would have had him also killed for food, Reynaud withstood them, saying that he would sooner die than that his horse should be killed. Yet when the Lady Clare besought him, and his children also, he yielded to them, saying that the horse should die. So he went to the stable, that he might do this deed himself. Yet when he looked upon Bayard, and had called to mind how many times the noble beast had saved his life, he repented him of his purpose. Then he gave him a handful of hay, for indeed there was nothing else that he could give, and went back to the Lady Clare and his brethren and said, "Endure till nightfall and you shall have meat. This I promise you," for he had a purpose in his heart.

Then he saddled Bayard, and came stealthily to his father's tent, that was in the King's camp, for he knew well where it was.

When Reynaud saw the Duke Aymon he said to him, "For pity's sake, my father, give me food, for my wife and my children and my brothers and all my people are dying of hunger. As I live there is but this horse Bayard that is left to us." But the Duke answered, "I have sworn an oath to the King that I will not give you any help by food or otherwise."

Reynaud said again, "My father, have pity upon your own flesh, for such we are. The King does us great wrong when he persecutes us in this fashion."

When the Duke heard these words he well-nigh fell into a swoon for pity. After a while he said, "You say truly that the King does you wrong. Now, therefore, light off your horse and go into the tent, and take whatsoever you can find, nor shall any man say you nay; but for my oath's sake, I may not give you aught." So Reynaud went into the tent, and took such things as he could find and laid them on the back of Bayard, and carried them to Montalban. That night they ate their meat in the castle with much gladness of heart.

The next day the Duke Aymon called his steward and said to him, "Take now the three engines that the King commanded me to make for assailing the castle, and fill them, not with stones, but with flesh, both salt and fresh, and with loaves of bread, and with other victuals, and cause that they discharge these things into the castle." And the steward did as the Duke commanded him.

When the King heard what the Duke Aymon had done he was very angry, and sent for him to his tent. And when the Duke came he said to him, "How are you so bold that you feed my mortal enemies. Verily you shall lose your head for it." The Duke answered, "Sire, if you should burn me by fire yet will I not fail my children. They are no thieves or murderers, or traitors, but as good and true knights as are in all the world."

When the King heard the Duke speak in this sort, he made as if he would have struck him. But the Duke Naymes stood forth and said, "Sire, I would counsel you to send the Duke to his house. You cannot look for him to be with you in this matter, that he should see his children die before his eyes." Then the King said to the Duke Aymon, "Get you out of my camp forthwith, for you have done me more harm than can well be told." And the Duke answered, "I will do your bidding willingly." But before he went, he said to the Peers: "My lords, I commend my children to you. See, I pray you, that they come to no harm."

The King commanded that all the engines of war should be broken, for he feared lest others also of the Barons should throw victuals into the castle. So Reynaud and his men had peace, for no man made assault upon the castle. But after certain days, the provisions being all consumed, the famine was as sore as it had been at the first.

Alard said, "My brother, we cannot live longer without meat." Then Reynaud took a sword in his hand and went to the stable, having it in his heart to slay his horse. And when Bayard saw him, for he had not come thither for many days, he made good cheer. Then Reynaud said, "I were cruel indeed if I did thee harm, good beast that thou art." But Yonnet, who was his younger son, said, "Father, do you chose that my mother and my brother should die, and Bayard live?"

Then Reynaud was much troubled, doubting what he should do. Then he bethought him of a thing that he might do. He called for a basin, and took blood from the horse, and this being mixed with other things of which they had a little he prepared a mess, by which the Lady Clare and the children were a little sustained. This he did for four days, but on the fifth day the horse was grown so feeble that there came no blood from him at all. And now it seemed as if all hope were gone.

Reynaud and his kindred and his house being in these straits, there came an old man who would speak with him. "Sir," said he, "you have done as well as could have been done by any man in keeping this castle, but now you can do no more. But listen to me. I was at the building of this place many years ago, when I was but a young child. And I mind me that the lord that builded it made a secret way by which a man might escape if he was so minded. This way I will show you, and you can depart from this place by it without danger."

REYNAUD AND BAYARD.

Reynaud was right glad to hear this thing so that he forgot his hunger. Then he took his horse, which, indeed, could scarce stand for feebleness, and all the folk that were left in the castle; and they entered the secret way that the old man showed them. When they had gone a part of the way, Reynaud saw that they had not with them King John of Gascony. He said, "We have done ill to leave King John. It would be shame to us were he to die like a starving wolf that has fallen into a pit." So he went back and brought him. The others had small pleasure to see him, for even the Lady Clare, that was his sister, spake sharply to him saying, "Brother, you have done me such damage that you well deserved to die." But Reynaud said, "I have sworn homage to the King, and I must needs save him." And when the others heard these words, they confessed that Reynaud's thoughts were more worthy of a Christian man than theirs.

So having gone along the secret way for a while, they came to the end, and having issued forth found that they were in the Wood of the Serpent. Many things they suffered as they went, yet for hope's sake and by help of such wild fruits as they gathered on the way they bear up. And so with much toil and trouble they came to Ardennes, and were received with much gladness.

CHAPTER X
HOW PEACE WAS MADE

It happened about seven days after these things that the King rode by the castle, for he would fain know how the besieged fared. When he could see no man on the walls, he was not a little astonished, and going back straightway to the camp called his Barons together and told them of this matter.

The Duke Naymes said, "We must find out what has overtaken these people; let us feign to make an assault." So they feigned to make an assault, but no man came forth to defend the castle. Then the King said: "They are all dead of hunger," and he commanded that a long ladder should be set against the walls. By this certain of the Peers mounted, Roland being first of all, and after him Ogier the Dane and Oliver. But finding no man they descended on the other side and opened the gates that the King might come in.

So the King came in; but when he saw neither man, woman, or child in the whole place he was much astonished. And as he searched he found the secret way, which when he had seen he cried, "This has that false knave Mawgis done. Verily he will break my very heart for anger." But the Duke Naymes answered, "Not so, my lord; this way has been made many years."

Then by commandment of the King, Roland and a company of men went by the secret way till he came to the Wood of the Serpent. Nor were there wanting signs that many people had passed that way. So he returned to the castle and told what he had seen to the King, and the King with his host tarried awhile in Montalban.

A messenger came to the King, with tidings of the brethren. He said that he had seen them keeping a great court at the city of Ardennes, and that they had much treasure with them, and a great company.

When the King heard this he swore by St. Denys that he would not rest in his bed till he had besieged Reynaud and his company. So he commanded his Barons that they should make ready their baggage and march with all the haste they could on to Ardennes, and this they did.

When Reynaud was aware of their coming he swore a great oath that he would not suffer himself to be besieged. "Rather," said he, "would I fight with the King in the open field; verily, if by chance he should come into my hands I would not have pity on him as I did in past time." "Now, my brother," said Richard, "you speak as a man; if it come to fighting I will not fail of my duty." And Guichard and Alard said the same.

Then Reynaud ordered his host in a very skilful fashion, and mounting on Bayard rode towards the van of the King's army. When the King saw him coming, he grew so mad with rage that he was ready to fight with him, man to man. When the Duke Naymes perceived this, he said, "Sire, what mean you to do? It were folly to fight with these men. Rather make peace with them. For whether we prevail or they, there were a grievous loss of brave men, such as shall never be recovered." "Have done with such counsel," said the King, "I had rather be torn in sunder than make peace with these villains. Speak to me, therefore, no longer on this matter, but do you bear the Oriflamme of France as becomes a noble knight." "That will I do," said the Duke. "Verily, there is no man so old but that he will get hot in battle."

Then the hosts joined in battle, and the fight grew fiercer and fiercer. First Reynaud and the brethren drave back the King's hosts. With his first blow Reynaud clave a knight's head to the teeth, and with his sword shore the head of another clean from his neck. Then with a loud voice he cried, "Ardennes," and the courage of his men waxed so high that the King's men could in no wise stand against them.

When the King saw this he charged with all his might against his adversaries, slaying a knight at each blow. And when his spear was broken, he drew his sword, and did therewith marvellous deeds of arms. Never did he bear himself more valiantly than he did that day.

When Roland saw how his uncle fought in the very front of the battle, he was greatly afraid lest some mischance should befall him. Wherefore, spurring his horse, he made all haste to help him. The rest of the Twelve Peers did the same, and the King's host was stayed up against Reynaud's men. From prime to noon the battle was so equal that no man could say whether this side or that prevailed. But when the sun began to move to its setting, Reynaud's men began to give way, being fewer in number and spent with fighting. Then Reynaud said to him that bear his standard, "It is time to rest, carry the standard homeward."

When the King perceived this, he cried with a loud voice, "They fly; follow them with all speed; suffer them not to escape." This thing was the cause of no small damage; for Reynaud and his brothers and the knights that were of his side turned upon them that followed and slew many, and took prisoner Richard, Duke of Normandy. Him they carried into Ardennes and shut to the gates.

Roland went to the King and said, "The brethren have taken Duke Richard; lest, therefore, he come to any harm, offer conditions of peace. Remember, Sire, that you have now made war upon the sons of Aymon for fifteen years. Truly, had you done as much against the Saracens as you have done against them, you had brought them by this time under the Christian faith."

The King said, "Speak no more of peace; it shall not be save on conditions that you know. As for the Duke Richard they will not dare to harm him."

So the King laid siege against the city, and brought up great engines of war against it, expecting that Reynaud would deliver it into his hands, for he thought that by this time his strength must be well-nigh spent. But when many days had gone by, and there came no messenger from the town, he began to doubt within himself. So he called his lords together, and said to them, "It troubles me that we have no tidings of Duke Richard." Roland answered, "Sire, I marvel that you do not perceive the truth. The Duke Richard we shall never see again, unless you make peace with Reynaud and his brethren."

When the King had considered the matter awhile, knowing that Roland had spoken truth, he said, "Go now, three of you, to wit, Duke Naymes, Ogier the Dane, and Roland, with olive branches in your hands, and say to him, 'Thus saith the King, deliver to me Mawgis into my hands, and I will give you peace; you and your brothers shall have your lands again, and your two sons I will receive at my court, and I will make them knights with my own hands.'"

The three Barons went, with olive branches in their hands, and delivered the King's message to Reynaud. He answered, "My lords, I am glad with all my heart to see you; nevertheless I marvel much at the King's message. He demands that I shall give over Mawgis to him. Now all the world knows that I have not Mawgis to give or not to give. Truly I have lost him, and better friend or kinsman never was, by the King's cruelty and hardness of heart. Return therefore to the King and say, 'Mawgis I have not to give, nor would I give him if I had. As for the Duke Richard, I will hang him to-morrow over the chief gate at Ardennes.' And you, come no more on such an errand to me. I promise you that if any man come hereafter with such a message from the King, I will smite off his head."

So the three Barons returned to the King, and told him the words of Reynaud. And Roland said, "Sire, take it not ill, if I tell you that for your pride you will cause the Duke Richard to die. These sons of Aymon are the best knights in all the world, and they have asked peace of you, not once only but many times, and you have hardened your heart against them." The other Peers spake to the same intent. But the King would not listen to them. "Not so," said he, "they will not dare to hurt the Duke; verily, if they do such a deed I will hang them all with my own hand."

The next day Reynaud said to his brothers, "It is manifest that the King will not give us peace. I am resolved, therefore, to do him all the harm I can, and first I will hang the Duke Richard before his eyes and the eyes of all his host."

So Reynaud caused that a gallows should be set up over the chief gate of Ardennes. When this was done he sent ten yeomen to fetch the Duke. Now the Duke sat in his chamber playing chess with Yonnet, that was son to Reynaud. One of the yeomen said to him, "Sir Duke, come forth, for Reynaud has commanded that you be hanged forthwith." When the Duke heard him speak in this fashion, he disdained to make any answer, but said to Yonnet, "Play you quickly, for it is time that we go to dinner." When the yeomen saw that he paid no heed to them, they laid hands on him, one on each side, saying, "Rise up, Sir Duke, for you are to be hanged in despite of the King." When the Duke perceived that the men had hold of him, having one of the chess pieces in his hand, to wit, the Queen, with which he was about to give mate to Yonnet, he drew back his arm and gave one of the men such a buffet on the head as killed him outright. After this he took a rook from the board, and gave another yeoman such a stroke that his skull was broken; to a third he dealt a great blow with his fist and slew him. The others seeing how their fellows had fared, fled forthwith out of the chamber. Then the Duke said to Yonnet, "My child, you are fairly mated; as for these fellows they are drunken, I take it, to use me in such a fashion; but they have had their deserts," and he called to a servant that was there, saying, "Cast now these churls out of the window," and the man cast them out, fearing much, lest he should be dealt with in the same way.

When Reynaud and his brethren heard what the Duke had done, they went to his chamber in great wrath, and said, "Why have you slain my yeomen?" The Duke answered, "There came to my chamber ten churls saying that you had given commandment that I should be hanged, a thing which I could in no wise believe. For this cause I drave them out of my chamber, slaying some of them—I know not how many. Now if I have done amiss you can do to me what you will. But I judge the matter thus, that if these churls suffered at my hand the blame lies rather at the door of them that sent them on this errand."

Reynaud said in great wrath, "Believe it or no, as you will, but I am steadfastly purposed to have you hanged before the eyes of the King and his army." And he caused the Duke to be bound.

When the Duke perceived that Reynaud was truly purposed to deal with him in this fashion, he said, "Suffer me now to send a messenger to the King." "You shall send him," said Reynaud. So the Duke sent a messenger bearing two messages, to the King one, and another to the Peers. To the King he said, "I pray you, Sir, if you ever loved me, to make peace with Reynaud. If he have done aught amiss against you I will be his surety, and will answer for him that he shall make amends." To the Peers he said, "Show now to the King that if he suffer me thus to die, he shall do himself such dishonour as shall never be done away."

When these messages were delivered (but the King knew not that Richard had sent to the Peers) there was great debate, for the King hardened his heart as he had done before, and the Peers were urgent with him that he should turn from his anger. And the strife between them waxed so hot that the Peers departed from the King, taking their men with them, so that day the King's host was made the smaller by forty thousand men.

When the messenger came back with these tidings, how that the King was still hardened but that the Peers had departed from him, Reynaud was greatly moved, and turning to Duke Richard he said, "I pray you, my good cousin, pardon me for the great shame that I have done you." The Duke answered, "I blame you not. Rather do I blame the King for his cruelty and hardness of heart." Then Reynaud caused him to be unbound, and said, "Stand here by me, my cousin, and we will see what the King will do."

And now the King was at last brought to a better mind, for he said to a knight that waited on him, "Ride now as fast as you may, and when you come to the Peers tell them that I will listen to their counsel." So the knight rode with all speed, and when he had overtaken the Peers he delivered to them the King's message. And they came back to the camp.

The King said, "Go now to Reynaud and say to him, 'The King gives you peace on these conditions. You shall go in pilgrim's garb to the Holy Land, and on foot, begging your bread. You shall leave me your horse Bayard. On the other hand, I will restore to your brothers all their lands.'"

So the Duke Naymes went to Ardennes and told to Reynaud the King's conditions. Reynaud answered, "I accept them with my whole heart." Then he went to the stable, and took Bayard from his stall, and delivered him to the Duke Naymes. This done he took his banner, and raised it on the wall of the castle to be a token of peace. After this he went to his chamber, and, putting off his rich apparel, clad himself in poor garments, and took a pilgrim's staff in his hand, and so made ready to depart. But first he took leave of his wife, the Lady Clare. So sad at heart was she that she fell down at his feet like to one dead. When she had come to herself he said, "Take not this thing so much to heart. As for me I have such joy at the making of peace that the time of my banishment seems to be past already. Now may God have you in His keeping!" And he kissed her right tenderly, and went his way.

When the Lady Clare saw him go she fell again into a swoon, and this so sore that her gentlewomen deemed that she was dead. When she revived she said, "O Reynaud, my lord, there was never husband so good as you. Well I know that I shall never see you again." Then she went to her chamber, and took off her rich garments and clad herself poorly, saying, "This will I wear till my lord shall come again in peace."

As for Reynaud, his brethren and Duke Richard of Normandy and many others went with him a long way. But he said after a while, "My friends, you make my going the harder to me; I were better alone. Return now to Ardennes and comfort my wife and my children."

So they took leave of him with many tears.

CHAPTER XI
OF REYNAUD'S END

It must now be told in a few words what Reynaud did in the Holy Land, and what befell him afterwards.

First, then, when he was come to the city of Constantinople, he lighted by chance on his cousin Mawgis, who was lying sick in a certain house. So much did Mawgis rejoice to see Reynaud, that he was straightway made whole of the sickness that he had. Then the two went on together, and coming to Jerusalem, did excellent service for the true faith, delivering the city out of the hand of the Sultan of Persia, who had taken it by treachery.

This done the two departed, for they would not take any reward, and came to Rome. There they confessed their sins to the Pope, and having received absolution, made their way with all the speed they could to the city of Ardennes, where the brethren and all the people received them gladly.

Reynaud said, "I marvel much that I see not here either my wife or my children." Richard answered, "Your sons are at Montalban in all health and prosperity." "That is well," said Reynaud, but perceiving that his brethren were troubled, he bade them tell him the truth, for "I see," said he, "that you have heavy tidings." Then said Alard, "We may not hide from you that your wife, the Lady Clare, is dead. For when you left, she sorrowed continually, weeping both by day and by night, and so wasted away that she died."

Reynaud said, "Take me now to the place where you buried her." So they took him to the church wherein was her sepulchre. As he stood there weeping, there came to him his children, for they had been brought from Montalban, and kneeled down before him. And Reynaud kissed them and said, "See that you be good men, for I fear that I shall not be long with you."

Ten days afterwards he and his two sons and Mawgis departed from Ardennes, and came to Montalban. As for Mawgis, he returned to the Hermitage where he had dwelt at the first, and died there after seven years, being much honoured as a holy man.

Not long after the Duke Aymon died, bequeathing much wealth to his children. All this Reynaud divided among his brethren, keeping for himself the castle of Montalban, and this for a time only, for he was resolved to give up all worldly things.

In Montalban, therefore, he dwelt awhile, with his two sons, teaching them and training them in all honourable and godly ways. When he saw that they were each instructed in arms and in all other things that a good knight should know, he bade his steward furnish them with goodly clothing and arms and all other things needful. This done, he charged them that they should bear themselves honourably. "Be courteous," he said, "to all ladies; reverence those above you; be ready to help those that are in need; love your neighbour; so shall you have praise of all men." And when he had said these words, he bade them farewell, not without tears.

How these two fared at the King's Court, how they were in great favour with the King, and how they overcame their enemies—for the children of a certain lord that had hated their father sought to do them an injury—cannot be told in this place. Let it suffice to say that they prospered exceedingly.

Now must be told the end of Reynaud. When he saw that his sons were well established in dignity, he departed from Montalban and journeyed to the city of Cologne, in which city there was now in course of building a very fair church. He said to the master-mason, "Let me now serve the masons with such things as they need." The master-mason said, "Sir, you are more like to a king than a labourer, and it shames me to set you to such work." Reynaud answered, "Say not so; I will serve with a good will." And the man was well content to have it so.

After a while, the master-mason said to him, "See you those poor men that seek to carry a stone yonder? Go you and help them, for they are but weaklings." So Reynaud went; he said to the men, "Go and do what else is appointed of you, for I will deal with this stone." So he carried the stone to its place, though it were of such a bigness that four men could scarcely handle it. And after this he fetched other stones and mortar, and these in such plenty that the masons had much ado to deal with them.

When it was evening the masons came to be paid, and each man's wage was five pennies. But when the master-mason saw Reynaud, he said, "You shall have twenty pence, for you have laboured so as I have never seen any man labour. And you shall have as much every day." "Nay," answered Reynaud, "give me one penny only, that I may have wherewithal to keep me, for I work not for wages, but for the love of my God."

Then Reynaud found a lodging in the town, and bought for himself one pennyworth of bread, and of this and some water he made his supper. The next day he went to his work, and this he did many days, taking for his wage but one penny only.

But the other masons grew jealous of him, because that he was much better and stronger than they. So they laid a plot against him, and on a certain day when he slept they slew him, and having put his body into a sack, they cast it into the river.

Of the marvellous things that happened in respect of this said Reynaud, they that will may read elsewhere. Let it suffice to say in this place that the body was found after certain days and was honourably buried in the church of Cologne, and that year by year a feast is held in the memory of the Lord Reynaud, for indeed he was a very perfect, gentle knight.