The Song of Roland

The Song of Roland

1¹

King Charlemagne, our emperor, has stayed

Seven long years, waging war in Spain

And conquered all that land as far away

As to the sea. No castle blocks his way,

[5] No city wall unbroken. All that remains

Is mountain Saragossa, under sway

Of King Marsille, who loves not God the Great,

But serves Mohammed and to Apollo prays²

[9] And cannot stave off ruin, not even there. AOI

[10] Marsille the King still reigns in Saragossa.

He has gone for shade within a piney grove

And lies upon a yellow marble boulder.

At his command stand twenty thousand soldiers.

He calls his counts and counselors before him:

[15] “Hear, lords of Saragossa, our misfortune!

King Charles of lovely France invades our homeland,

Plunders our country, hastens to destroy us.

I lack sufficient powers to oppose him.

I have no army to confound his forces.

[20] Give me advice; wise counselors, inform me.

Save me from death and shame!” Of all his nobles,

Not one man answers him a word, but only

[23] Bláncandrin of Castle de Valfonde.

Bláncandrin has been wise in strategies,

[25] Well versed in vassalage and chivalry,

Mighty and valiant, eager to serve his liege.

He tells the king, “No need for you to grieve.

Send fierce and haughty Charles your fealty.

Send friendship, lions, bears, dogs of good breed;

[30] And send a thousand molted hawks with these,

And seven hundred camels, too, and teams

Of mules to draw four hundred carts, all heaped

With silver and gold and other finery.

He’ll have enough to pay his soldier-fees.³

[35] Too long has he been fighting in our fiefs;

He will ride back across the Pyrenees

To Aix in France. You’ll follow him and meet him

There as appointed, for St. Michael’s Feast,

And you’ll submit to Christianity

[40] And be his man in honor, goods, and deeds.

If he wants hostages, we will release

Whatever he demands: ten at least—

Twenty—of our wives’ own sons as guarantees.

Though he should die, send my own son with these.

[45] Better the young men lose their heads than we

Forfeit our honor and authority

[46] And be reduced, O King, to beggary. AOI

“By my right hand, these fingers and these knuckles,”

Says Bláncandrin, “by this white beard, which flutters

[50] Against my chest: soon to their own country

The Frenchmen will return. They will break muster

And each man hurry home to hearth and comfort.

King Charles will sit at Aix, his Chapel, trusting

And holding celebrations for your coming.

[55] St. Michael’s Day will come, then go, and nothing,

Not even a word, will he have had from us.

This king is proud. His heart is fierce and stubborn.

When you don’t come, he will behead our sons.

Better they lose their heads than that we suffer

[60] The loss of Spain the beautiful and sunny

And suffer countless other troubles.”

[61] “This strategy could work,” the pagans judge.

Marsille the King adjourns his pagan meeting.

He summons Clarin of Balágatee

[65] and Estamars and Eurropin the Peer

And Priamun and Garlan of the Beard,

Matthew and his nephew Machinee,

Jouner and Evilgood from Oversea,

And Bláncandrin, their leader, who will speak—

[70] The ten most wicked men of Marsille’s legions.

Marsille commands them, “Go to Cordoba and meet

King Charles where he holds court. Give him my greeting

And give him olive branches, which are sweet

Tokens of humility and peace.

[75] And if you wisely do this task for me,

I’ll give you silver and gold. And you will reap

Farmlands and vast estates and fiefs.”

[77] They answer him, “We have enough of these.”⁴ AOI

Marsille adjourns his council and commands

[80] The chosen ten: “My lords, an olive branch

Each one of you will carry in your hand

To Cordoba and plead with Charles the Grand

That for the sake of his own God he grant

Mercy on me. Before the month has passed,

[85] I’ll follow with a thousand men and clasp

The law of Christian men and be his man

In fealty and love. If he exacts

Hostages, hostages he’ll have.”

[88] Bláncandrin says, “We’ll get a useful pact.” AOI

[90] Marsille has ten white mules brought out to him,

Gifts given by the King of Swátili.

The saddles are silver, gold the reins and bits.

The messengers mount their mules, and all ten grip

The olive branches tightly in their fists.

[95] They come to Charles. Though all of France’s king,

[95] He lacks protection from a traitor’s tricks. AOI

Charlemagne sits rejoicing in the fall

Of Cordoba. His knights have breached the walls

And broken down the towers with catapults

[100] And bravely taken for themselves large hauls

Of silver, gold, and armor of great cost.

There’s not one pagan left not killed or crossed

To Christianity⁵ in Cordoba.

In a large orchard sits the emperor,

[105] Roland and Oliver joining him in talk.

Nearby: Duke Samson; Anseïs the Strong;

Geoffrey of Anjou, the king’s guide-on;

Gerin and Gerer, inseparable in war;

And many other noble barons also.

[110] From lovely France some fifteen thousand warriors

Are sitting all about on white silk cloths.

The older barons settle down to talk

And play board games like chess and silver-toss.

The light-hearted young are fencing on the lawn.

[115] Beneath a pine a gold throne is installed

Near to an eglantine. From there, King Charles

Of lovely France presides, white as the frost

His beard and flowing hair. He is straight and tall.

No man would ask, “Where is the king?” who saw him.

[120] The messengers arrive, dismount, and walk

[121] To greet the emperor with love and awe.

Bláncandrin speaks first: “May God Who reigns

And dwells in glory, to Whom we all must pray,

Save and protect you, mighty Charlemagne.

[125] I bring these greetings from Marsille the brave.

He asks: ‘How can salvation be attained?’⁶

My worthy king proposes that he share

His wealth with you: bears, lions, leashed greyhounds,

Seven hundred camels, a thousand hawks well trained

[130] For seizing birds, four hundred mules all weighed

With gold and silver in a wagon train

Of fifty carts, with coins enough to pay

All of your soldiers. Too many years you’ve stayed

Inside this country. Now you should leave Spain

[135] For Aix in France. My master will not break

His vow, but follow you and there keep faith.”

Lifting his hands to Heaven, Charlemagne

[138] Bows his head and begins to meditate. AOI

The emperor’s head is low. His face is hidden.

[140] He doesn’t rush to say what he is thinking.

His speech was always careful and deliberate.

Now he lifts his head. How fierce his visage!

He answers them: “Your words are good. Your king is

My enemy. If you have some provision

[145] That will authenticate your words, what is it?”

The Saracen replies, “We will deliver

Hostages, ten of our young men, or fifteen,

Twenty, even—my son, though you could kill him.

Inside your royal halls you will have living

[150] The noblest of our youths, in my opinion.

On the feast of Michael Rescuer-of-Pilgrims,

My king will follow you to Aix in tribute,

And there in waters sprung from God he wishes

To cleanse his spirit and become a Christian.”

[155] [156] “His soul may yet be saved,” Charles answers him. AOI

The sun stays bright while afternoon still lasts.

Ten mules are stabled at the king’s command.

He has a tent pitched on the orchard grass.

A dozen servants lead ten pagan Spaniards

[160] Into this tent to eat, sleep, and relax

All through the night until the dark has passed.

The king arises early to hear matins.

Before daybreak he listens to the mass,

Then goes beneath a pine and summons back

[165] His barons to the council. He always asks

[167] Advice from those he trusts: the men of France. AOI

Beneath the pine the emperor has called

His barons back to council. It is dawn.

Duke Ogier and Archbishop Turpin come;

[170] Old Richard and his nephew Henry also;

Count Acelin of Gascony; Theobald

Of Reims and his young cousin, Count Milon;

Gerin and Gerer; noble, wise, and strong

Count Oliver; Count Roland—all in all,

[175] Of Frenchmen out of France: one thousand strong;

And he who did the treason, Ganelon.

[179] And now the council starts that ended wrong. AOI

The emperor addresses them: “Lord barons,

King Marsille has sent me emissaries.

[180] He wants to give me of his wealth and chattels,

Lions and bears, greyhounds leashed for tracking,

A thousand molted hawks, seven hundred camels,

Four hundred mules with Arab gold to carry,

Pulling behind them more than fifty wagons.

[185] But first he stipulates that I must travel

Back to lovely France; he’ll follow after

And come from Spain to me at Aix, my Chapel,

Submit to Christian law, and as my vassal

Keep his dominions, mountains, farms, and pastures—

[190] He says, but I can’t tell you where his heart is.”

[192] “We must be wary now,” reply the barons. AOI

At the last word spoken by the emperor,

Roland, outraged, angry at these terms,

Leaps to his feet to argue they must spurn

[195] Utterly the pagan offer: “Believe no word,

O King, that comes from King Marsille the cursed!

Seven whole years in Spain! My sword has earned you

Nople on this campaign, and Commilbury,

Pineland, and Bálasged, Tuéle, Valterne,

[200] Seville—Seville, where King Marsille confirmed

Himself a traitor, sending messengers,

Fifteen pagans with the same fine words,

And olive branches, too. We all conferred,

And the French counseled lightly. You concurred,

[205] Sent Básil and Basán, ambassadors,

From us to King Marsille, who seized them first,

Then cut off their heads on the Halt Hill. No, sir!

Wage the war you started though it burn

On longer than your life lasts. Lead us with courage.

[210] Battle the Saracens. Besiege and burst

The walls of Saragossa. Let Spain be purged,

[213] Avenge our friends, slaughter those murderers.” AOI

The emperor, when his nephew’s speech is through,

Bows, strokes his beard, rubs his mustache smooth,

[215] Answers neither approval nor reproof.

No Frenchman speaks but Ganelon, who moves

Scornfully forward to address his ruler:

“Do not,” he says, “take counsel from a fool—

Not mine nor anyone’s, if it’s not useful.

[220] Marsille sends promises to meet you soon

And join his hands in fealty to you.

Spain he will give you as a present, too,

And take upon himself our Christian rule.

He who advises you to spurn this truce

[225] Cares nothing what kinds of deaths we must endure.

Advice that comes from pride should be reproved.

[229] Let’s cling to wisdom; leave foolishness to fools.” AOI

Duke Neïme rises from that noble crowd.

A better courtier cannot be found.

[230] He speaks to Charlemagne: “You heard the count,

Lord Ganelon. His reasoning is sound,

If it be understood. You’ve put to rout

The armies of Marsille, and you’ve thrown down

With catapults his castles, walls, and towers.

[235] You’ve conquered his people. You’ve burned down his towns.

It would be sinful, King, not to allow

The mercy that he asks for now.

The hostages will be sufficient grounds

For trusting. No more must this great war stretch out.”

[240] [243] “The duke has spoken well,” the Frenchmen shout. AOI

“My lords, in Saragossa who shall be

The messenger we send to King Marsille?”

“I beg the gift to go,” says Duke Neïme;

“Give me the glove and staff, and I will leave.”

[245] “You are a man of great sagacity,”

Replies the king. “By my mustache and beard,

You will not go that far from me.

[251] Sit down when no one orders you to speak.

“Lord barons, whom shall we delegate to ride

[250] Among the Saracens? To whom confide

This mission?” Roland stands and answers, “I

Will go to Saragossa.” Oliver cries,

“Not you! You’d be the worst! You’re fierce and wild.

Right off you’d get yourself into a fight.

[255] Send me. I’ll go if that’s what Charles decides.”

The emperor answers, “Both of you, keep quiet!

Not you nor you are going. Woe betide

If any of my Twelve gets this assignment—

I swear by my white beard!” Not one French knight

[260] [263] At this command has anything to reply.

Turpin of Reims, archbishop, now stands up.

“Let your Peers stay,” he tells the emperor.

“For seven years campaigning in this rough

And rugged land our people have stayed stuck

[265] Through hardship and war. Give me the staff and glove!

I’ll go to the Saracen in Spain. I’d love

To get a look at him in his own country.”

The emperor speaks testily: “Enough!

Sit back down, Turpin, on your white silk rug.

[270] [273] Be still unless I tell you to speak up. AOI

“My noble knights,” the Emperor Charles says,

“Choose me a border captain I can send

To King Marsille. Who will take my message?”

“My stepfather, Ganelon!” Count Roland says.

[275] The barons answer, “Few could do it better!

Send him! There’s not a diplomat more clever.”

Aggrieved, Count Ganelon turns angry red.

He throws his marten furs from off his neck

And stands in his silk tunic, tall and splendid.

[280] His eyes are green; his face is dark with menace,

His body noble—broad shoulders and thick chest—

And beautiful. All look on him with pleasure.

He says to Roland, “Fool, are you demented?

Though everybody knows that you’re my stepson,

[285] You judge me for the trip to Marsille’s den.

If mighty God bestows on me the blessing

To make it home, I swear, I’ll take such measures—

All of your life, by God, you will regret this.”

“What?” Roland answers, “Pride and foolishness?

[290] These people know I never minded threats.

We need to send a skillful emissary.

[295] If the king wants, I’ll go for you instead.”

“No! You won’t go for me!” Ganelon answers.⁷AOI

I’m not your liege lord. You are not my man.

[295] I serve King Charles and will, at his command,

Put his message into Marsille’s hands.

Yet while I’m here, I swear I’ll do some rash

And reckless deed. I must appease my wrath!”

[302] When Roland hears these words, he laughs. AOI

[300] When the Count Ganelon hears Roland’s laughter,

He almost bursts from sorrow, and his anger

Almost drives him crazy. He answers,

“You, I do not love. You have me branded

With a false judgment.⁸ True Emperor, I stand here

[305] [309] Ready to go wherever you command me.

“To Saragossa I will have to go. AOI

People, when they go there, don’t come home.

I leave my wife (your sister), one son alone,

Most beautiful son a man could ever hope,

[310] My Baldwin. He’ll be a valiant knight when grown.

To him I leave my feudal lands and groves.

Take care of him. My eyes will not behold—”

“You’re too soft-hearted,” the king tells Ganelon.

[318] “I gave the order, so you have to go.”

[315] The emperor says, “Ganelon, step up! AOI

Come take from me your envoy’s staff and glove.

You heard the judgment that the French knights judged.”

“My lord,” says Ganelon, “It’s just that one—

Roland!—who judged me. Him I will never love!

[320] Nor Oliver, his war-mate, no, and none

Of the Twelve Peers, who dote on him so much.

You witness, Sire: I’ll see these people punished.”

The king replies, “You shouldn’t hold a grudge.

You will go there because I say you must.”

[325] “I’ll go, and go without a safeguard—nothing AOI

[330] But what Sir Básil had, and Basán, his brother.”

The king takes off his right glove, holds it out.

Ganelon, wishing he were elsewhere, lets down

His hand and the glove slips to the ground.

[330] “What’s this?” the Frenchmen ask. “What loss is bound

Soon to befall because the glove fell down?”

[336] “Lords, you will hear from me,” declares the count.

“Sire, give me your leave,” says Ganelon. “Dismiss me.

When people have to go, they shouldn’t linger.”

[335] The king says, “Jesus’ blessings and mine go with you.”

He marks a cross on him with two right fingers,

[341] And now the letter and the staff he gives him.

Ganelon the count walks to his tent.

There, with his finest silks and furs, he dresses

[340] And puts on costly arms and armaments

And his gold spurs. He fastens to his belt

His sword Murgleis. His uncle, Guinemer,

Holds fast the stirrup for his foot’s instep.

He mounts his steed Brownspot. You should have heard

[345] His knights and many noble friends lamenting:

“Ah, Ganelon, your valor will be your end!”

“For years you’ve been at court among the French,

Who know and celebrate your nobleness.”

“Not Charlemagne is able to protect

[350] Whatever fool condemned you to this quest.”

“Count Roland should have watched what he said:

Our Ganelon has family ties and friends!”

“Let us go, too!” some cry. Ganelon says,

“God forbid! Better one knight meet death

[355] Than all you brave knights. Go to France instead.

Greet my wife for me; and Pinabel,

My peer and friend; and my son, Baldwin. Help

And pay him loyal service.” Ganelon bends

[365] His horse eastward and rides away from them. AOI

[360] Ganelon rides to meet the Saracens

Beneath an olive tree, where Bláncandrin

Sits in his saddle, on the watch for him.

They ride together, exchanging words with skill.

Bláncandrin says, “Your Charles is a great king.

[365] He made Apulia and Calabria his.

He crossed the seas to England and inflicted

The tax called Peter’s Pence upon the Britons.

Our Spanish wasteland—what does he want with it?”

Ganelon answers, “Charles’s heart is big.

[370] [376] No one has proved his match, and no one will.” AOI

“These men are great,” says Bláncandrin, “these French.

Your master’s dukes’ and counts’ advice has meant

Hardship for him and everybody else.”

Ganelon says, “No bad advice except

[375] Roland’s—his pride will have its recompense!

Yesterday, in the shade where King Charles rested,

His nephew came, his chain mail still on, fresh

From pillaging near Carcassonne. He stretched

His hand out with an apple in it, red.

[380] ‘Take, good Majesty! Take this,’ he said.

‘I give you crowns of all the kings of men.’

His pride should lead him to a sorry end.

Every day he gives himself to death.

[391] Whoever kills him—we will have peace then.” AOI

[385] Bláncandrin says, “Roland is cruel and fierce.

He wants to bully men from their beliefs

And plant his banner over every region.

Whom does he count on to make his plans succeed?”

“The French,” says Ganelon, “love him so dearly

[390] They never fail him. He wins their full allegiance

With silver and gold, horses, battle gear.

He holds the emperor in his hand and means

[401] To conquer every country in the East.” AOI

Bláncandrin and Ganelon. They go

[395] So far together that they swear an oath

To have Count Roland killed; so many roads

And mountain paths, then down to Saragossa.

And there, beneath a pine, they hitch their horses.

There sits in a pine tree’s shade on his camp throne,

[400] In Alexandrine silk, the king who holds

The realm of Spain, surrounded by a host

Of twenty thousand Saracens, mouths closed

To hear whatever’s spoken. And behold,

[413] Here come Lords Bláncandrin and Ganelon.

[405] Bláncandrin steps up before the king

With Ganelon. He holds him by the fist.

“Mohammed save you. Apollo give you bliss,

Whose order we uphold. King, I delivered

Your words to Charles. All he did was lift

[410] His hands to his God in praise and send you this

Preeminent ambassador of his.

He is a lord of France, noble and rich.

Will it be war or peace? You’ll hear from him.”

[424] Marsille replies, “Let the man speak. We’ll listen.” AOI

[415] But the Count Ganelon is very thoughtful

Before the king. He stands, alert and cautious,

Then starts to speak, as one adept at talking:

“Hail, King Marsille. May God, the Most Exalted—

Whom we must worship—guide and save you always.

[420] Hear what King Charlemagne the Mighty calls for:

He says you must submit to Christian law

And give him half of Spain in fiefdom. Also,

He says if you repudiate his offer,

His power will bind and shackle you and haul you

[425] Off to his throne in Aix, where you’ll be taunted,

Judged, humiliated, sentenced, slaughtered,

And die like a miserable vile dog.”

Marsille is frightened. Violently he wants

To seize his javelin, a great spear wrought

[430] [440] With finely feathered gold, but his men halt him. AOI

Marsille leaps to his feet. His face burns white.

He grabs his javelin. It shakes. The sight

Makes Ganelon grip his sword’s gold hilt, which rises

Until two inches of the sword’s blade shine

[435] Above the sheath. “How beautiful and bright!”

He says to it. “I bore you a long time

In a king’s court. King Charles won’t say I died

Alone in a strange country. Their best knights

Will buy my life’s blood at a high price.”

[440] [450] The pagans say, “We must break up this fight.”

The best of the pagans hurry to surround

Marsille and plead for him to sit back down.

The caliph tells him, “You hurt this cause of ours,

Flaunting your spear at the Frenchman. You should allow

[445] Him speech, and listen!”—“Sir, I will endure his frowns,”

Ganelon replies. “I won’t fail now.

Not all the money in the Spanish South,

Not all the gold God made could stop my mouth

From what King Charles, in his imperial power,

[450] Commissions me and bids me to announce

To him, his mortal enemy.” Then down

He flings his silken sable Alexandrine gown

(Which Bláncandrin retrieves from off the ground),

But never do his fingers, wrapped about

[455] His sword hilt, loosen their tight grip. Out loud

[467] The pagans say, “This is a noble count!” AOI

Ganelon steps closer to the king:

“I’m not the one you should be angry with.

Charles, King of France, sent me to tell you this:

[460] Receive the Christian law. To you he’ll give,

In fief, one half of Spain. Spain will be split.

Half goes to Charles’s nephew, Roland. Him

You’ll find a proud co-sharer. If you resist,

He will lay siege to Saragossa City⁹

[465] With all his forces. As soon as they break in,

You will be tied and manacled and ridden,

Not on a steed or stallion in fine trim,

Palfrey or mare or mule: his men will fling you

Onto a packhorse; to Aix you will be driven,

[470] Judged, and beheaded like a common criminal.¹⁰

My emperor commands me give you this.”

[484] He puts the letter in the king’s right fist.

King Marsille is schooled to write and read.

He takes the letter and he breaks the seal

[475] And throws the wax away. He looks and reads

What’s written on it; then he looks up and speaks:

“Charles, King of France, reminds me of his grief

And anger over how my army seized

Basán and Básil and on Halt Hill’s peak

[480] Beheaded them. He says that if I seek

To save my body’s life, I must release

My uncle, the Great Caliph, to his keeping.

Otherwise, I lose his love, says he.”

At this, his son speaks up to King Marsille:

[485] “This Ganelon’s a lunatic. His speech

Is off the mark. No more impunity!

Don’t listen to his folly. Give him to me.

I’ll execute our justice.” Ganelon hears.

He yanks his sword out from its sheath.

[490] [500] Then slowly he backs against a large pine tree.

The king moves to a deeper orchard area

And bids his best men follow. They obey him.

With him comes the crown prince, Jurfalé;

And white-haired Bláncandrin; and then the caliph,

[495] The king’s uncle, close to him and faithful.

Bláncandrin begins discourse by saying,

“Summon the Frenchman. He swore to me he’d aid us.”

“Then fetch him!” He goes to Ganelon and takes him

By the fingers of his right hand and conveys him

[500] Straight through the trees to start negotiating

[511] The wrongful, lawless, and unjust betrayal. AOI

“Worthy Sir Ganelon,” Marsille says, “I

Was somewhat hasty when I made to strike

You down in anger. Now it is only right

[505] You have these sable furs. You couldn’t buy

The gold fringes for four hundred pounds or five.

I’ll have them for you by tomorrow night.”

“Your Majesty, I won’t refuse such kindness.

[519] May God reward you,” Ganelon replies. AOI

[510] “I wish, Count Ganelon,” says King Marsille,

“To love you very much. I’d like to hear

About your Charlemagne. Old, isn’t he?

By now he’s used his time up, I believe.

He must have lived at least two hundred years,

[515] Dragging his flesh from east to west to east,

And suffered so many blows upon his shield,

And brought so many kings to beggary—

When will he long to sit at home in peace?”

Ganelon says, “He won’t. You can’t conceive

[520] The kind of man Charles is. Whoever sees

And gets to know our monarch knows a hero.

I can’t begin to catalogue his feats

Of honor, his deeds of generosity.

I think that he would rather die than be

[525] [536] Bereft of the brave men who call him liege.”

The pagan says, “This Charlemagne, I wonder—

This king is white-haired, old—over two hundred.

He’s ridden his body through so many countries,

Countered so many blows from lances and bludgeons,

[530] So many rich kings brought to beggardom,

Tell me, when will he give up the struggle?”

“He won’t,” says Ganelon, “not till Death summons

His nephew. No such hero ever was

Under the cloak of heaven. And such another

[535] Is Oliver his friend. Greatly belovèd

By Charlemagne, the Twelve Peers cover,

With twenty thousand troops, all his frontiers,

[549] And Charles stays safe and is afraid of nothing.” AOI

The Saracen remarks, “I am amazed

[540] By Charlemagne. He’s old, white-headed, pale;

He’s lived two hundred years at least I’d say,

Conquered so many lands, parried the blades,

Bludgeons, and spears of so many knights, enslaved

Or slaughtered so many kings on darkening plains—

[545] When will warfaring weary Charlemagne?”

“It won’t while Roland lives,” the Frenchman claims.

“From here to the East there’s not a knight so brave,

And likewise Oliver, his brave war-mate.

With them the Twelve Peers, Charles’s favorites,

[550] Lead twenty thousand French, who keep him safe

[562] From every foe. And Charles is not afraid.” AOI

“My dear Count Ganelon,” Marsille remarks,

“My word can muster wonderful men at arms,

Four hundred thousand knights to swell my armies

[555] To fight against the Frenchmen led by Charles.”

Ganelon answers, “You’re whistling in the dark.

Your losses would be much too great by far.

Leave foolishness to fools. Time to be smart:

Send money to King Charles, quantities large

[560] Enough to strike amazement in French hearts,

And twenty hostages. He will depart

For lovely France, leading his larger army,

Leaving behind in Spain his small rearguard.

His nephew Roland will be there in charge

[565] With courteous Oliver. There you will martyr

Both noble counts. Without his proud right arm,

Charlemagne will no longer have the heart

[579] To wage his war against you any farther.” AOI

“My dear Count Ganelon, will you tell me this:

[570] How may I manage to have Roland killed?”

“Yes,” Ganelon replies, “I will.

Charles will have reached the great Ciz Gates while still

His rearguard winds behind him through the cliffs,

His nephew in command, Roland the Rich,

[575] With Oliver, whom he puts such trust in,

And twenty thousand Frenchmen. You must fling

A hundred thousand pagans down on him.

He will be wounded and diminished—

Not that your own will not be sadly trimmed.

[580] Let the French fight these hundred thousand first.

Then charge with a second army, just as big.

Roland can’t slip through both the traps you spring.

You will accomplish knightly work and win

[595] Peace for your land as long as you shall live. AOI

[585] “Whoever sees to Roland’s death will carve

Out of the emperor’s body his strong right arm.

Once having lost his wonder-legions, Charles

Never again will muster such an army.

Peace will settle on the world at large.”

[590] Marsille hears Ganelon, kisses his neck, and starts

[602] Unloading heaps of treasure from a cart. AOI

Marsille the King declares, “What use more talk?

What is decided shouldn’t be put off.

Swear to betray Roland.” Ganelon

[595] Answers him, “Yes, Sire, if you think I ought.”

On relics of his sword Murgleis¹¹ he falsely

[608] Swears treason, puts his soul outside the law.¹² AOI

From his ivory throne, Marsille the King of Spaniards

Commands a book be brought. On Tervagant

[600] And Mohammed he vows that if he catches

The French rearguard with Roland, he’ll attack

With all the regiments at his command

And Roland will have lived his last.

[616] Count Ganelon replies, “Amen to that!” AOI

[605] Now comes the pagan Valdabron. He speaks,

Cheerful and radiant, before Marsille,

To Ganelon. “Here is my sword. Take, keep.

It’s yours. There’s not a better blade. Look here:

The gem-starred hilt alone is worth at least

[610] One thousand minted Saracen gold pieces.

This is my friendship gift. May you reveal

Count Roland to us, Charlemagne’s brave peer,

Leading the rearguard.” Ganelon agrees.

“It will be done,” he says. Each kisses each

[615] [626] Affectionately upon the chin and cheeks.

The pagan Climborin steps forward now,

Smiling of face, radiant of brow:

“Here, keep my helmet (no better can be found)

And give us helpful counsel to bring down

[620] Roland’s rearguard and Roland the proud count.”

“It will be done,” Ganelon announces.

[633] They kiss each other on the cheeks and mouth. AOI

Marsille’s Queen Bramimunde speaks to him too:

“I love you, sir, because my lord approves

[625] And prizes you,” she says, “as all men do.

Favor your wife for me with these gold brooches,

Inlaid with jasper, amethysts, and jewels

Worth more than all the wealth of Rome, in truth,

More costly than your emperor’s heirlooms.”

[630] [641] Ganelon takes them and sticks them in his boot. AOI

Now the king summons Maldebty, his treasurer,

And says, “You have King Charles’s tribute ready?”

Maldebty answers, “All of it, Sire, yes.

Seven hundred camels, with gold weighed heavy,

[635] [646] And our best young men as hostages, all twenty.” AOI

Marsille grips Ganelon and pats his shoulder.

He tells him, “You are very wise and bold.

By the Salvation that you hold most holy,

Don’t let your heart swerve from the path you’ve shown us.

[640] Out of my wealth I give you twelve mules loaded

Heavily with pure Arabian gold—

That much each year! And take these keys to open

For you the great walled city, Saragossa.

King Charles will receive the larger gift of gold.

[645] Make sure the rearguard captain will be Roland.

I swear: if I catch him on the valley road,

I’ll kill him and the rearguard will be broken.”

“It’s late,” says Ganelon. “I must be going.”

[660] He mounts his stallion, and he turns it homeward. AOI

[650] Meanwhile the emperor is getting ready

For his arrival in the town of Gelne,

Which Roland seized and razed. It will lie empty

A hundred years and still not be resettled.

The emperor waits for news of the immense

[655] Spanish tribute that he should be getting.

Morning has risen and the bright stars are setting.

[668] Count Ganelon rides up to the French tents. AOI

Early awake, the Emperor of France

Listens to matins, celebrates the mass,

[660] And stands before his tent on dewy grass.

Wise Oliver and Roland are at hand

And Duke Neïme and many other barons.

False and forsworn, Ganelon is back,

With his words artfully rehearsed. He stands.

[665] “I bring you, King,” he says, “from Spain’s vast land

The keys to mighty Saragossa—and

Tribute, money, and treasure by the wagons,

And hostages—twenty noble Arab lads.

Although the caliph, whom you did demand,

[670] Is absent, don’t reproach the king for that.

With my own eyes I watched a host decamp:

Four hundred thousand fighting men, all clad

In mail and helmets, some with their visors clamped.

Swords cinched, the pommels’ gold enameled black,

[675] They tramped with their caliph down to the sea strand,

Fleeing Marsille, unwilling to compact

With Christian law. Their ships steered from the banks.

Just four miles out from land, thunderbolts flashed,

A whirlwind storm blew up, ships rose and sank,

[680] And every pagan drowned. You’ve seen the last

Of them. If he had lived, I would have dragged

The caliph here. Before this month has passed,

I promise good Marsille will follow fast

Behind you into France and there contract

[685] To serve your law and, with his two hands clasped,

Vow to hold Spain for you and be your man.”

King Charlemagne replies, “May God be thanked!

Well done! I’ll recompense you.” Now great blasts

Of a thousand trumpets sound. The Frenchmen pack,

[690] Break camp, lay luggage on their donkeys’ backs,

[702] And set out on the road to lovely France. AOI

Charlemagne has laid waste to Spain and ripped

The towers down, ravaged the halls and cities.

Now he proclaims the long war is finished.

[695] Toward lovely France they ride, and in the midst

Of every camp they pitch, Count Roland fixes

The guide-on flag up high upon a hill,

And the French lie all about in sight of it.

Pagans ride north too. Clad to their chins

[700] In chain-mail armor, helmets strapped, swords cinched,

Shields slung across their backs, lance handles gripped,

And visors closed and clamped, they ride and cling

To low valleys, and they camp in woods on ridges,

Four hundred thousand strong, till the night lifts.

[705] [716] God! What grief that the French don’t know of this! AOI

The dark has fallen at the end of day.

The mighty emperor, King Charlemagne,

Sleeps, dreaming that he stood at the Ciz Gates,

Holding a stout ash lance. Ganelon came,

[710] Wrenched it out of his hands and wildly waved

And broke the lance. The splinters sailed

High in the sky above the darkened air.

[724] Charlemagne sleeps on and does not waken.

That vision gone, another rocks his rest.

[715] As he stood on his Chapel steps at Aix,

A cruel bear bit him on his right arm. Then

A leopard charged him from the dark Ardennes.

It pounced and bit and clawed and mauled his flesh.

Down from his hall a greyhound raced to rescue

[720] King Charles within his troubled dream. It leapt,

Attacked, and tore the bear’s right ear to shreds,

Then wheeled around to wrestle with the leopard.

“This is a fierce war,” the Frenchmen said,

Not knowing which of them would come out best.

[725] [736] Charles sleeps on. He does not waken yet. AOI

Dawn light advances as the darkness runs.

Horse bells begin to jingle. Morning’s begun.

King Charles rides hard now by the rising sun.

Soon he cries out: “Lord knights of France, look up.

[730] There stand the Gates of Ciz. Now you must judge:

Who guides my rearguard under the tight bluffs?”

Ganelon answers quickly, “My stepson.

For might and valor, Roland is the one.”

The king glares hard at Ganelon and utters,

[735] “You are the Devil! Mad and rabid blood

Has entered to your heart. Whom can we trust

To lead the vanguard then?” Says Ganelon,

“Ogier the Duke of Denmark. There is none

[750] More valiant than the Dane. He’ll guard our front.”

[740] Count Roland, when he hears himself decreed, AOI

Answers by the laws of chivalry:

“My lord stepfather, you must hold me dear,

To judge the rearguard leadership on me.

King Charlemagne of France has not a steed,

[745] No stallion, palfrey, mule—he-mule or she—

Pack horse, dray horse, nag that I won’t keep

Secure for him while I still live and wield

A sword on his behalf.”—“Yes, I believe

[760] You speak the truth,” Ganelon agrees. AOI

[750] When Roland hears the judgment laid on him,

He flares back up at Ganelon: “You stinking

Vile stepfather, low-class son of a bitch,

You think I’ll let the glove fall from my fist

[765] Like the staff Charles handed you, which you let slip?”¹³ AOI

[755] “True Emperor,” brave Roland says, “confide

To me the bow your fist still holds so tight.¹⁴

I think no one will want to criticize

The way I grasp the bow—not like the time

Ganelon’s right hand let the staff slide.”

[760] The emperor lowers his head. He twists his white

Moustache and strokes his beard. He cannot hide,

[773] For all his efforts, that his eyes aren’t dry.

The Duke Neïme steps up. You couldn’t name

A truer vassal. “Mighty Charlemagne,”

[765] He says, “You hear how they debate.

Count Roland is hot tempered. No one can shake

The rearguard judgment from him now it’s made.

Give him the bow you hold, and designate

The best support you have for his brigade.”

[770] [782] The king holds out the bow, which Roland takes.

“Sir Roland, nephew,” promises King Charles,

“Listen: I will give you half my army.

Take them to keep; and you won’t come to harm.”

Count Roland answers, “No. God strike my heart

[775] If I refuse the honor of this charge.

I’ll take no more or less for my rearguard

Than twenty thousand valiant French at arms.

You, Sire, without one worry, will ride far

[791] Through the Ports of Spain to France with your whole army.”

[780] Roland is mounted. He rides his great war steed. AOI

His war-mate Oliver rides near.

Gerin and Gerer—the brave companion Peers—

And Otis come, and Bérenger with these,

And Astor and the ferocious Anseïs.

[785] And here’s Gerart of Russillon the Fierce,

And rich Duke Gaifiers. The archbishop speaks:

“I’m riding with Count Roland, by my beard!”

“I’m riding with you, too,” Count Walter pleads;

“I’m Roland’s man, and I will not retreat.”¹⁵

[790] More keep coming. Soon Count Roland leads

[802] Twenty thousand valiant volunteers. AOI

Roland calls up Count Walter de la Humme:

“Enlist a thousand knights of our French country.

Ride the ridges and occupy the summits.

[795] Don’t let one wagon of the king’s be plundered.”

“For you, I’ll guard them!” Walter says, then musters

One thousand valiant knights of that dear country

And occupies the heights. No news of bloodshed

Will bring them back till, reduced to seven hundred,

[800] Fighting King Almaris of Belferna

[813] On that worst day, swords lifted, down they plunge.¹⁶

The valleys are dark, and high up loom the cliffs.

The rocks are shadowed, the narrow passes grim.

The king’s knights ride all day, and their good mood slips.

[805] From fifteen miles you can hear their chain mail clink.

Filing out of Spain, the men begin

Descent to Gascony, their king’s dominion.

Now they remember the homesteads where they lived,

The noble wives they had, the pretty girls.

[810] There’s not a one who doesn’t weep for pity,

And the worst pity suffered is the king’s,

Who left his nephew at the Gates of Ciz

[825] And now, for all he tries, can’t keep tears in. AOI

Charlemagne’s Twelve Peers are riding yet

[815] Through rugged Spain with twenty thousand French,

Not one of them afraid. Not one fears death.

Charles rides in France, hooding his bowed head.

The Duke Neïme, who rides beside him, says,

“Why, Charles, do your spirits seem so leaden?”

[820] And he: “How can you ask me such a question?

The grief I suffer—how could I not have wept,

Knowing that Ganelon will be the wreck

Of lovely France? Last night I dreamed he wrenched

My lance out of my grip and scattered the shreds.

[825] The rearguard judgment came from him: I left,

Stranded in a foreign pass, my nephew.

[840] Roland! I’ll never have his like again.” AOI

The king cannot hold tears back from his eyes.

For pity a hundred thousand Frenchmen cry

[830] And fear for Roland. Pagans have supplied

Ganelon the traitor with some prime

Returns for treason: gold and silver finery,

Laces, silks, and satins, horses to ride,

Camels, and lions.—King Marsille, meanwhile,

[835] Calls Spanish barons to rally to his cry:

Counts, viscounts, dukes, emirs, and knights.

Four hundred thousand barons mobilize

For King Marsille in three days’ time.

Drumbeats sound and resound from every height

[840] Of Saragossa’s walls. On a high spire

They raise Mohammed’s statue, to which rise

Prayers and petitions for their enterprise.

The pagan army, in long hard stages riding

Valleys and hills and paths they know,¹⁷ soon sight

[845] French guide-ons and ensigns, flapping in the sky.

The Twelve Peers and the rearguard won’t deny

[859] Battle and bloodshed if the pagans want a fight.

Marsille’s nephew thwacks his mule and drubs

It forward past the mid-ranks to the front.

[850] Laughing and persuasive, he tells his uncle,

“Your Majesty, I served you long and suffered

Troubles and hardships for you; I have won

Battles for you on fields flowing with blood.

I beg a favor: let me have first thrust

[855] At Roland. With my keen-edged steel I’ll cut

Him down, then with Mohammed’s help expunge

The French from Spain and win your land’s freedom

From the Ports of Spain to far-off Durestunt.

Charles will be stricken. His armies will give up.

[860] Never again will wars despoil your country.”

[873] King Marsille holds out to him the glove. AOI

The nephew grasps the glove. Haughty and fierce,

He takes it from his uncle’s hand and speaks:

“Dear uncle, great is the gift you’ve given me!

[865] Elect twelve knights for me; with these elite

I will do battle with the Twelve French Peers.”

Falsarun, brother of the king, receives

The first commission. “Nephew,” he volunteers,

“I’m with you. To victory! Here are our spears.

[870] With these we’ll strike down Charlemagne’s Twelve Peers.

Roland’s rearguard will meet its destiny

[884] Of death by us upon the battlefield.” AOI

King Corsablix comes forward from the army.

Berber practitioner of evil arts,

[875] He promises Marsille a liegeman’s heart.

Not all the gold beneath God’s shining stars

Could hold him from a fight with the rearguard.

Then spurring hard comes Málprimis Brigant.

This knight is faster on foot than horses are.

[880] He speaks out to Marsille: “My lord, I’ll charge

Headlong with lowered spear to Roncevals.¹⁸

[893]If I find Roland, he will be my martyr.”

Next Bálaguez comes forward, an emir.

Bright honest face, handsome in heart and limb,

[885] But armed and in the saddle, lance atilt

Against his enemies, he’s murderous and grim.

Honored for loyalty and heroism,

If Bálaguez were only Christian,

God, what a noble knight he would have been!

[890] He pledges his allegiance to the king:

“In Roncevals I’ll stake my life that if

I come upon Count Roland I will kill him

And Oliver, and the Twelve French Peers, all killed!

The French will die dishonored in the dirt.

[895] Charlemagne grows weak, and his mind slips.

Stunned by his nephew’s death, heartsick, war-sick,

He’ll leave our Spain untroubled.” King Marsille

[908] Thanks him for the promises he gives. AOI

There is an Almansour from Moriann.

[900] No crueler rascal lives in Spanish lands.

He comes before Marsille and makes his brag:

“My twenty thousand men with shields and lances

Will ride with me at Roncevals and will attack.

If I find Roland, he will die. No day will pass

[905] [915] That Charles won’t weep for him while his old age lasts.” AOI

Then there is Turgis of Turteluse, the count,

Commanding and ruling Turteluse the town.

He yearns to see the Christian forces routed.

He lines up with the other six and shouts,

[910] “There’s nothing, King, for you to fret about.

Roman St. Peter isn’t worth a mouse

To him we serve: Mohammed! By his power

We’ll conquer. The honor of the field is ours.

At Roncevals I mean to overpower

[915] And kill Roland. No one can save him now.

Look at my sword. It’s keen and long, and bound

To cross with Durendal. Word will go round

How my sword bent down his. And once so proud,

The French will die who dare to hold their ground.

[920] Charles will be shamed. Weeping, he will lie down,

[930] And never, in any land, put on a crown.”

Now there emerges from a regiment

Count Escremiz of Valterna. He presses

Up to Marsille among the pagans present:

[925] “In Roncevals I mean to put an end

To Roland’s pride and there cut off his head,

And Oliver’s. Roland’s Twelve Peers, death-destined,

Will perish there with all the other Frenchmen.

The French will die. Their land will be swept empty.

[930] [939] Chivalry will be lost, Charles left defenseless.” AOI

More pagans come to join them: Esturganz

And Astramarz, his mate and war companion,

Both of them traitors, lying and underhanded.

Marsille gives orders: “Ride, my noble vassals,

[935] To Roncevals, where the long valley narrows,

And lead my pagan armies into battle.”

They answer, “Yes, Your Highness! You command us.

Roland and Oliver—we will attack them

And the Twelve Peers. For them there’s no safe passage

[940] From certain death. Our swords are sharp and slashing.

With warm French blood we’ll rinse them to the handles.

The French will die. King Charles will mourn them sadly.

We’ll give you Greater Europe for the having.

Come with us, King, and look upon the vanquished.

[945] [954] We’ll give the emperor into your hands.”

Lord Márgariz runs up to volunteer.

He governs from Seville to Cazmarine.

He is so handsome, every woman dreams

To be his love. If they can only see him,

[950] They faint from bliss or laugh with blushing cheeks.

No pagan like him for pure chivalry!

Above the other voices, loud and clear,

“O King,” he shouts, “don’t be afraid. I’ll meet

Roland at Roncevals and there defeat

[955] And slay him. Oliver and the Twelve Peers

Cannot escape the death that I decree.

Look at my gold-hilt sword, given to me

By the Emir of Primes. How it will bleed

With red French blood! The French will die, France grieve

[960] With shame, and Charles the Old of the White Beard

Not live one day not prostrate from his grief.

Within a year our armies will have seized

All France and will bed down in St. Denis.”

[974] The pagan king nods thanks to Márgariz. AOI

[965] Chernuble, who is Múnigre’s cruel ruler,

Comes forward next. His hair hangs to his boots.

He can bear greater weight for his amusement

Than four well-fed, hardworking large pack mules.

Sun never brightened Múnigre. The moon

[970] Stays always dark, where no grain ever grew.

Rain never fell, and never falls the dew.

All of the rocks are black. People presume

Devils dwell in the country of Chernuble.

“My sword is cinched,” he cries, “ready to sluice

[975] Red blood in Roncevals. If Roland moves

Across my path and I don’t charge that fool,

Call me a liar! My sword will subdue

His Durendal. The valley will be strewn

With French. France will lie empty as a tomb.”

[980] These Twelve take their commission and assume

Command over a hundred thousand troops.

Ambitious for the war to be renewed,

[993] They don their armor in a pine wood’s gloom.

The pagans dress in chain mail to the thighs,

[985] Some hauberks double-, most of them triple-ply,

And Saragossa helmets with steel visors,

And Viennese steel swords. Their shields are wide,

The lances that they carry are the pride

Of Spain’s Valencia. Their ensigns rise

[990] And flutter scarlet, blue, and white.

They’ve left their palfreys, donkeys, mules behind.

They mount war steeds and ride in a close file.

The day is beautiful. The sun is bright.

Every rider’s armor glints and shines.

[995] A thousand trumpets sound, and their music flies

Across the ridges to the rearguard lines.

“I think,” says Oliver, “we’ll get to fight

With Saracens, my friend.” Roland replies,

“God grant we do! Our business is to bide

[1000] Here for our king. To serve his lord, a knight

Should suffer hardships, deserts, winter ice

And sacrifice his limbs, his hide, his life.

—Frenchmen, prepare yourselves to strike and strike!

No wit will mock our strokes with comic rhymes!

[1005] Pagans are wrong. Christians are right!

[1016] Never will my deeds argue otherwise!” AOI

Oliver rides and looks from a hill’s crest

At a green valley. Pagan regiments,

Off to his right, ride in his direction.

[1010] He calls to Roland, his battle-mate and friend:

“I’m looking back toward Spain and can detect

The glare of hauberks and the gleam of helmets.

This will mean countless sorrows for our French.

Ganelon—the traitor!—knew this when

[1015] He judged us for the army’s rear defense.”

“Oliver, keep quiet,” Roland says.

[1027] “He’s my stepfather. Not a word against him.”

Oliver observes from a high mound

And sees the land of Spain stretch to the south

[1020] And Spaniards swarming toward where he looks out,

Their spears and ensigns set. The helmets crowned

With gold and jewels, the saffron chain-mail gowns,

And the shields shine in his eyes. The crowd

Of regiments is more than he can count

[1025] Or measure. His vision is confounded

By such vast motion, and his mind astounded.

To give the French an accurate account

[1038] Of all that he has seen, he hurries down.

Oliver says, “The pagans I have seen!

[1030] Never has anyone seen more than these.

Their vanguard shows a hundred thousand shields;

Their helms are strapped and their chain mail gleams.

The pagans grip the handles of their burnished spears.

Now for a battle, vicious beyond belief.

[1035] —Frenchmen! Take strength from God and victory

Is in our hands! Do not give up the field!”

The Frenchmen say, “God curse whoever flees.

[1048] Even from death, not one of us retreats!” AOI

Oliver says, “The pagan power is more

[1040] By many thousands than our little force.

Friend Roland, lift up and wind your horn.

Charles will hear it and ride back from the north.”

Roland replies, “I’d be a fool to throw

Honor away and lose in France my glory.

[1045] With Durendal I mean to strike strong blows

Till the blade runs blood. The heathen hosts

Will curse the wind that blew them to this port.

[1058] Death sentences hang over all our foes.” AOI

“Roland, dear friend, sound Olifant. Its din

[1050] Will summon far-off Charles. He will not linger,

But hurry back with all his barons with him

To rescue us.” Roland says, “God forbid

A deed of mine bring shame upon my kin

And lovely France be shamed for what I did.

[1055] With Durendal I mean to strike until

Its long steel blade is bloody to the hilt

Before I sheath it. It was an evil wind

For our vile foes that blew them to these hills.

[1069] I swear to God: their dying now begins.” AOI

[1060] “Wind your horn Olifant, Roland dear friend!

King Charles will hear us where the mountains end

And ride to our rescue with the valiant French.”

Roland says, “God forbid that it be said

By any man alive that infidels

[1065] Drove me to horn blowing! Not one breath

Of blame will reach my kindred. In the press

Of battle I will strike and strike again

With Durendal, a thousand strokes and then

Seven hundred as the blade runs red.

[1070] The French fight well and will fight. Nothing protects

[1081] Those soldiers out of Spain from certain death.”

Oliver says, “I don’t see any blame!

All I see is Saracens from Spain

Flooding across the mountains and the plains,

[1075] The meadows, hills, and valleys. Look how great

The enemy army is. Look and compare

Our little company.” Roland exclaims,

“But my desire is great! God and his angels

Save me from causing France to be dispraised!

[1080] I’d rather die. Better be dead than shamed!

[1092] The harder we hit, the greater love from Charlemagne.”

Roland is valiant. Oliver is wise.

Both are marvelously noble knights.

Now they’re on horseback, ready for the fight.

[1085] They won’t back down from battle. They’d rather die.

Both are good barons, their words high and defiant.

Now the vile pagans come furiously riding.

“Look,” says Oliver, “at their front lines.

They’re close, and Charles is farther all the time.

[1090] You didn’t blow your Olifant, for pride.

If Charles were here, our men would come out right.

Look upward through our rearguard files

And see the consternation in their eyes.

When these are gone, never will be their like.”

[1095] Roland: “Don’t waste your breath on bad advice.

To hell with any heart that quivers and shies.

We’re staying where we are. Let them take flight.

[1109] We’ll win the melees and the single fights.” AOI

When Roland sees the battle is impending,

[1100] He grows more dangerous than lion or leopard.

“Oliver!” he calls. “Hear me, you Frenchmen!

Friends and dear companions, no talk of surrender!

The Emperor of France, when he selected

Us for his twenty thousand—he expected

[1105] No cowardice from any that he left here.

To serve his lord, a worthy knight shall welcome

Brute hardships, freezes, thirst, and scorching deserts,

And willingly sacrifice his blood and flesh.

Thrust with your spears! With Durendal, my present

[1110] From Charlemagne, I’ll strike their regiments,

And if I die, who owns my good sword next

[1123] Will know that once a worthy knight possessed it!”

And now comes forward Lord Archbishop Turpin.

He wheels his horse around and spurs it

[1115] Up on a little hill to preach his sermon:

“My lords, the king assigned us here. Our purpose:

To fight and give our lives in the king’s service

So all of Christianity may flourish.

The battle is upon you. Your role is certain.

[1120] See Saracens riding near, intent on murder.

Confess your sins out loud and ask God’s mercy.

I now absolve you into life eternal.

Die, and as holy martyrs you inherit

Heavenly thrones and sit in azure circles.”

[1125] The French dismount and kneel down on the earth

To have their sins absolved. Archbishop Turpin:

[1138] “And for your penance, strike your adversaries!”

Charlemagne’s barons rise and stand up straight,

Absolved, and all their sins are washed away.

[1130] Archbishop Turpin blesses them and makes

The sign of the cross over the French brigades.

Now they are on warhorses and arrayed

In knightly armor and glistening chain mail.

“Oliver, you were right,” Roland declares.

[1135] “Ganelon betrayed us all. He traded

Us for the gold and silver Marsille gave.

This deed will be avenged by Charlemagne.

A bad deal for Marsille: for the gold he paid,

[1151] All the return he gets is our steel blades.” AOI

[1140] Count Roland, leading twenty thousand French

On Veillantif, his swift warhorse, has led

The rearguard through the Spanish passages.

He is armed and in armor, handsome, confident.

With a firm grip, he points his lance to heaven.

[1145] The white ensign flaps down the lance’s length,

And the fringes flutter on his fists. His strength

Is great, his body straight and elegant,

Face bright with glad and laughing eyes. His friend,

Count Oliver, stays close behind. The French

[1150] Call Roland Safeguard. Roland looks again,

Proudly and fiercely toward the Saracens,

Then mildly and humbly back at his own men

And with noble courtesy addresses them:

“My lords, move forward slowly. Steady, steady.

[1155] These Saracens come looking for their deaths.

What plunder we will have at the day’s end!

No king of France ever won more.” That said,

[1169] With lowered lances, the Frenchmen move ahead. AOI

“I’m done with talk,” says Oliver at last.

[1160] “You didn’t care to blow your Olifant,

Or care for Charles himself, that great, good man.

He’s not to blame. He thinks we’re through the pass.

Those up ahead can’t help it that we’re trapped.

Ride now, and fight as fiercely as you can.

[1165] —Lord barons! Hold the field of battle!

For God’s sake, concentrate on swift attacks,

Striking and taking blows that they give back.

We must not fail to raise our battle-rally

In honor of our emperor’s red standard!”

[1170] A loud cheer rises from the rearguard ranks.

(Whoever heard that cheer, “Mountjoy!”¹⁹ would laugh

And joyfully remember great deeds passed.)

Each spurs his warhorse forward in a dash

To strike the first foe with his lance.

[1175] They mean to fight. What else but to attack?²⁰

Nor do the pagans fear the men from France.

[1187] Frenchmen and pagans meet with a loud clash.

The nephew of Marsille, Aelroth by name,

Gallops ahead of all the men of Spain,

[1180] Screaming his oaths and slanders all the way

Against our French: “Vile French, we joust today.

The one who should defend you has betrayed you.

Crazy King Charles abandoned you in Spain!

Lovely France will lose its former fame,

[1185] And Charles, the right arm from his shoulder blade.”

When Roland hears these insults, God, what rage!

He spurs his Veillantif, lets go the reins,

And with his long spear thrusts with deadly aim,

Shatters the shield, bursts open the chain mail,

[1190] And pierces the chest. The ribs and backbone break,

And the lance thrusts the soul from the rib cage.

He digs the spear deeper, shakes Aelroth in the air,

And flings him onto the ground, where his neck breaks

In two. Roland speaks to him anyway:

[1195] “Mongrel son of a bitch, Charles isn’t crazy.

Our king is loyal and abhors betrayal.

The king did right to leave us back in Spain,

And France won’t lose its fame.—Frenchmen! We claim

First blood. Strike, Frenchmen, strike for Charlemagne!

[1200] [1212] We’re in the right. These bastards have the blame. AOI

There is a duke. His name is Falsarun,

Uncle to Aelroth and Marsille’s brother,

He’s Lord of Datliún and of Balbiún.

A meaner reprobate there never was.

[1205] His two big ugly eyes, which bulge in front,

Measure between them at least half a foot.

Seeing his nephew killed grieves him so much

He hates the French and breaks forth at a run,

Singing the battle cry of pagandom.

[1210] “Frenchmen,” he threatens them, “the day is come

When lovely France’s glory will be smudged.”

Count Oliver, outraged by the insult,

Digs in his golden spurs, attacks, and thrusts

His long lance through the pagan’s shield and cuts

[1215] The chain-mail hauberk open; the lance shoves

Ensign streamers deep into the lungs.

He flings the body headlong in the dust.

Now he looks down and says, “You useless lump,

All of your claims and threats mean less than nothing.

[1220]—Hit them, you French! This battle will be won!

[1234] Mountjoy!” he cries, and lifts his ensign up. AOI

The Berber Corsablix, who wears the crown

Of a strange and barbarous kingdom in the south,

Arouses the other Saracens and shouts,

[1225] “Barons of Spain, the victory is ours!

Look at them. This wretched little rout

Of Frenchmen will be easy to confound.

The hour destined for their death comes round,

And where is Charles? He’s nowhere to be found.”

[1230] Archbishop Turpin hears. Without a doubt

He hates him from the center of his bowels.

With golden spurs he urges his swift mount,

Lowers his lance, charges, aims, and jousts

With knightly skill and concentrated power,

[1235] Bursts shield, bursts hauberk, jabs the body out

And up from the saddle, shakes it like a trout,

And roughly casts it down.

Looking back he sees him dead, but shouts,

“You lie, you lousy loud-mouthed pagan lout.

[1240] My lord King Charles protects us even now.

We French don’t flee. We’re here to stay and clout

Your pagan friends. Let your dead skull announce:

They’ll all lie dead before the night comes down.

—Strike, Frenchmen, strike! Remember your renown.

[1245] Thanks be to God, the first blow struck is ours.

[1260] Mountjoy! Mountjoy! Maintain the battleground!”

Sir Gerin jousts Lord Málprimis and hits

The costly shield, which is not worth a pin,

Dead center in the crystal eye. The shield splits,

[1250] And the right half spatters on the ground in splinters.

The spear drives through the mail and through the skin

And flesh, entrails, and spine. Sir Gerin flings

The pagan’s body down into the dirt

[1268] As Satan carries off the pagan’s spirit. AOI

[1255] Gerer, his friend, strikes Emir Bálaguez,

Shatters his shield, tears his mail to shreds.

The stout lance penetrates the pagan’s belly

And pokes out through the other side. Then Gerer

Tosses the body and leaves it where it fell.

[1260] [1274] Oliver says, “Our battle’s going well.”

Duke Samson hits the Almansour and shivers

The shield of ornamental gold and lilies.

The costly hauberk offers no resistance.

The spearhead bursts the heart and lungs and liver.

[1265] He throws him dead, whether one wills or wishes.

[1280] The archbishop says, “That stroke was well delivered.”

Count Anseïs at breakneck gallop rides

At Turgis of Turteluse, and his spear rives

The shield above the golden center eye

[1270] And rips the chain mail where it’s double plied.

The steel point penetrates the flesh and knifes

So far it sticks out through the other side.

He throws him headlong on the grass to die.

[1288] Count Roland tells him, “Struck, like a noble knight!”

100

[1275] Then Éngeler, the Gascon of Bordeaux,

Spurs, drops the bridle, lets his swift horse go,

Strikes Escremiz Valterna such a blow

It shreds the shield the pagan tries to hold,

Breaks the collar of the hauberk open

[1280] And nails the body through the collarbone.

He throws him from the saddle to the road.

[1296] “Losing,” he tells him, “was all that you could hope.” AOI

101

Otis jousts the pagan Esturganz.

He hits the upper edge of his shield and smashes

[1285] White and vermillion gules. The lance advances

Straight through the bursting chain-mail hauberk straps

Into Estruganz’s heart and rams

The pagan’s body lifeless from the saddle.

[1303] “You won’t heal soon,” he says as he looks back.

102

[1290] Bérenger strikes Astramarz’s shield

And shatters it. Sharp steel fragments pierce

Deep in the pagan’s flesh. Down he careens

To join a thousand pagan dead. Of the Elite

Twelve Saracens: ten dead; two living peers:

[1295] [1310] Chernuble and Count Márgariz.

103

A gallant, valiant knight, Sir Márgariz

Is beautiful and agile, strong and quick.

He spurs his steed toward Oliver and hits

The shield’s gold center, and the steel point rips

[1300] Tangentially the shirt along the ribs.

God has saved Oliver! He isn’t hit.

The lance hilt cracks. Oliver stays fixed

Firmly in stirrups and gallops off uninjured,

[1319] Rallying the rearguard with his bugle ringing.²¹

104

[1305] The battle is fierce. It rages everywhere.

Roland is always where he isn’t safe.

While his lance lasts, he jousts with deadly aim,

But after fifteen hits, he throws the stub away.

He unsheathes Durendal, gleaming and naked,

[1310] Spurs straight at Chernuble and swings his blade,

Breaks through the helmet’s carbuncle and jade,

Slices down through the hair and scalp and brain,

Dissects between the eyes the pagan’s face,

Unstitches all the closely-linked chain mail,

[1315] Splits downward to the juncture of the legs

And the gold-braided saddle, and it stays

Not there, but cleaves the horse’s spine and lays

Man and horse lifeless on the grassy plain.

He says, “Son of a low-born bitching slave,

[1320] Today Mohammed’s giving you no aid.

[1337] Not by the likes of you are battles gained.”

105

Roland rides wherever the battle’s roughest,

With Durandal, attacking, slashing, thrusting,

Distributing death, trampling enemies under.

[1325] What jousts! He heaps one body on another

Into the spongy grass where warm blood slushes.

Both his arms and his chain-mail shirt are bloody.

His horse is bloody from the mane to rump.

Oliver at slashing is no sluggard,

[1330] And the Twelve Peers perform chivalric wonders.

All the French knights slash and cut and bludgeon

The Saracens, who swoon and die and suffer.

The archbishop says, “May God reward our valor.

[1350] Mountjoy!” he cries. “Remember Charles’s colors.” AOI

106

[1335] Oliver gallops back and forth and fights.

His lance is broken to a fourth its size.

With it he batters Malun, a pagan knight,

Right through the shield all flowered gold and white,

Crushes helmet, crushes skull. Out burst eyes.

[1340] Brains spatter underfoot, where there now lie

Seven hundred dead. He turns and smites

Turgis and Esturgoz, who fall like flies.

Wood splinters on the hand that holds it tight.

“Oliver, what are you doing?” Roland cries.

[1345] “Why fight with wood? What about steel and iron?

Your sword Hautcler? What’s wrong with it? Just right,

With its gold hilt and the glass-sharp edge, for striking!”

“Too many targets, Roland! There’s no time

[1366] To draw my sword,” Oliver replies. AOI

107

[1350] Count Oliver has drawn his faithful sword

At last, just as his battle-mate implored.

He swings it down with all chivalric force

On Justin, Count de Val Ferrée. The sword

Cleaves helmet, head, neck, spinal cord,

[1355] The saffron mail, the flesh to where it forks,

The costly saddle, all with jewels adorned,

And carves the backbone of the pagan’s horse.

Down to the ground he shoves the double corpse.

Roland remarks, “I knew that stroke was yours.

[1360] Such strokes earn favor of our emperor.”

[1378] “Mountjoy!” the Frenchmen shout of one accord. AOI

108

Gerin rides Sorrel. Gerer rides parallel

On Stagcatcher. These two close battle-friends

Let loose their bridles, spur their steeds ahead,

[1365] And double-spear the pagan Tímozel,

One through the shield, the other the chain hauberk.

Both spears enter and break inside his breast,

Knocking him into a fallow-field death bed.

(Which of them dealt the death blow I can’t tell.)

[1370] The Gascon Peer Sir Éngeler now fells

Espérveris, the son of Count Borel.²²

Archbishop Turpin slays the sorcerer

And pagan necromancer Sízlorel,

Whose dark equations once forced Jupiter

[1375] To guide him through the labyrinths of Hell.

“It’s time,” he tells the corpse, “you paid your debt.”

“You ground that bastard down,” Count Roland says.

[1395] “These are good strokes, aren’t they, Oliver, friend?”

109

Meanwhile, what a cruel and stubborn battle!

[1380] Pagans and French take blows and give them back,

Attack, defend, attack, and counterattack.

How many fight with shattered, bloodied lances!

How many standards and colorful guide-ons cracked,

And Frenchmen dead before their youth can pass!

[1385] Mothers and wives will not see them in France,

[1403] Nor will the French, who look back for their banners. AOI

Charlemagne weeps. Worry near drives him mad.

What good does it do? No rescue is at hand.

In Saragossa, Ganelon served him badly

[1390] And sold his people in a pagan land,

For which he will forfeit his life, legs, hands,

And thirty valiant members of his family,

Who at the hearing will be judged to hang²³

[1411] And never did expect to die like that. AOI

110

[1395] What a marvelous and bitter fight!

Roland, Oliver! They strike with skill and might.

More than a thousand blows the archbishop strikes,

And neither do the Twelve Peers lag behind.

And every Frenchman thrusts and strikes and smites.

[1400] Pagans by the hundreds—thousands!—die.

Their only guarantee from death is flight.

Will they or nil they, here they lose their lives.

France is losing its bravest guardian knights.

Fathers and mothers never will have sight

[1405] Of them riding home—nor Charles, who rides and bides

Beyond the pass. All France is horrified

To hear loud winds and thunder. Storms of ice

Destroy the fields and forests. Bolts of lightning

Flash intermittently. Quakes open wide

[1410] Cracks in the earth from Sans to Mount St. Michael’s,

From Besanson to the high Atlantic tides,

And crumble stronghold walls. The noon sun shines

No brighter than the moon in murky night.

When the sky crackles open—that’s the only light.

[1415] People can’t see and cry out in their fright:

“This is the end!” “End of the world!” “End times!”

Not realizing, when they contemplate these signs,

[1437] The death of Roland is what they signify.

111

The French warfare is valiant and effective.

[1420] The pagan dead lie heaped throughout the meadow;

Out of a hundred thousand, not two left.

“Ours are good vassals,” Turpin says, “none better.

You couldn’t find more valiant under heaven.

Let it be told in the Chronicles of the French:

[1425] “King Charlemagne had valiant fighting men.”

They comb the field for wounded friends, lamenting

Their fallen, pitying the family members

For what they soon will have to suffer.—Then,

[1448] Marsille’s main army crashes down on them. AOI

112

[1430] Straight through the valley King Marsille is coming

With the huge host of fighting men he summoned:

Twenty divisions of knights with helmets buckled,

All bright with jewels and sapphire-tinted bucklers

And chain-mail tunics. Seven thousand trumpets

[1435] Proclaim their coming. Hoofbeats and horns and drumbeats

Resound throughout the country.

“Oliver,” says Roland, “war-mate, brother,

False Ganelon has sworn to our destruction.

His treachery will out. He will be punished.

[1440] Our emperor will wreak revenge upon him.

The war we wage today will be so bloody

People will say no worse there ever was.

I’ll strike with Durendal. Oliver, brother,

You strike with sharp Hautcler. Think of the countries

[1445] We bore our swords to, fought with them and won

Together with them! Our deeds will not be subjects

[1466] Of the satiric little songs of jugglers.” AOI

113

Marsille beholds his barons where they died.

He sounds his horns and trumpets, and he rides

[1450] Forward with his army. In the front lines

Rides evil Duke Abisme. You could not find

A crueler Saracen, more steeped in crime.

God, the Son of Mary, he denies.

He’s black as field peas cooked for a long time.

[1455] All of the gold God made he does not prize

So much as treachery, back-stabbing, lies,

And murder. No one ever saw him smile.

He’s brave, relentless, reckless, which is why

He’s Marsille’s darling. His soldiers keep their eyes

[1460] On his dragon guide-on and rally to his side.

Archbishop Turpin can’t help but despise

This pagan. How eagerly he yearns to strike him.

“This Saracen,” he tells himself, “looks vile.

A heretic, I think.” He makes up his mind:

[1465] “I’d better kill him. Cowards I do not like,

[1486] And cowardliness I never could abide.” AOI

114

Archbishop Turpin mounts the first attack,

Riding the steed he seized from King Grossall

In Denmark when he killed him. This great stallion

[1470] Has strength and spirit, hollow hoofs, silver shanks,

White tail and yellow mane, short thighs, broad back,

Long flanks, high head, and little ears. He’s fast

And lets no other horses block his path.

Turpin spurs bravely, lets the reins fall slack.

[1475] No chance for Duke Abisme to wield his lance.

The lord archbishop charges him, and slash,

Strikes Abisme’s shield, which gleams and flashes

With gemstones—amethyst, turquoise, topaz,

And carbuncles of fire. (In Val Metás,

[1480] A devil gave it to Emir Galaff,

Who sold it to Abisme.) The archbishop slashes,

And the shield’s not worth a bead of broken glass.

He cuts Abisme from front ribs to the back

And dumps him dead upon a stretch of grass.

[1485] “Valiantly struck!” exclaim the men of France.

[1509] “The cross is safe in the archbishop’s hands.”

115

The Frenchmen see so many knights from Spain

Swarming and covering the battle plain

They call to Roland and Oliver. They beg

[1490] All Charlemagne’s Twelve Peers to keep them safe.

Archbishop Turpin speaks to them: “Be brave,

Lord barons. No bad thoughts, and for God’s sake,

Hold your ground lest men compose refrains

Making fun of those who ran away.

[1495] Better die fighting. The end is near. That’s plain.

We know we will not live beyond today.

Nevertheless, I guarantee your safety:

Among the Holy Innocents²⁴ who gave

Their lives to save the Savior, you will reign

[1500] In Paradise.” The French take heart and raise

[1525] Their voices: “Mountjoy, Mountjoy for Charlemagne!” AOI

116

There is a wealthy Saracen, who owns

One half the property of Saragossa,

Named Climborin. Is he a good man? No.

[1505] He and Ganelon swore a friendship oath,

Kissing on the mouth, a pact he closed

With a gift helmet, encrusted with gemstones.²⁵

He swore to lay all Greater Europe low,

Uncrown the emperor and smash his throne.

[1510] Barbamouche Beardfly is his horse, which goes

Faster than falcon or swallow. Now he approaches

Count Éngeler, the Gascon of Bordeaux,

Spurs his swift Barbamouche, lets the reins go,

Aims his lance, and strikes him such a blow

[1515] The shield shatters. The chain mail does not hold.

The steel point penetrates the flesh and bone.

He shoves it through up to the hilt, then throws

Éngeler’s body backward onto the stones.

“These Christians are a joy to beat,” he boasts;

[1520] “Strike, men! Divide them! Break their closed ranks open!”

[1544] The Frenchmen say, “God, what a woeful stroke.” AOI

117

Roland calls to his battle-mate and says,

“Friend Oliver, Count Éngeler is dead.

There wasn’t a better knight among our men.”

[1525] Oliver answers, “God give me quick revenge!”

Racing with golden spurs, he grips Hautcler—

The blade all bloody—aims it straight ahead,

Strikes, and twists the blade inside the flesh.

Down the pagan falls. A crowd of devils

[1530] Takes his soul. Then Oliver kills Alphaien,

Beheads Count Escababi, unhorses seven

More Arab warriors. Not one of them

Will get much glory in a fight again.

“Looks like my friend is angry,” Roland says.

[1535] “Next to my score, he’s doing very well.

Fighting like that earns Charlemagne’s respect.

[1561] Strike, Frenchmen! Strike, you valiant French!” AOI

118

A pagan champion named Valdabraun,

Marsille’s godfather, emerges from the throng.

[1540] This rogue commands four hundred ships of war.

There’s not a pirate who is not his pawn.

He occupied Jerusalem by fraud,

Defiled the Temple of King Solomon,

Throttled the Patriarch in baptismal waters.

[1545] He swore his troth to Ganelon the false,

Gave him his sword and money. Gramimond,

His horse, is faster than a sparrow hawk.

Valdabraun eyes Duke Samson, brave and strong,

Kicks his sharp spurs, rides, thrusts, breaks shield and hauberk,

[1550] And the lance point penetrates the body, drawing

Straight through the wound the colorful ensign cloths.

He shakes his lance, and Samson’s body falls.

“Strike, pagans, strike! We’re going to crush them all.”

[1579] “God,” the French say, “his death is a great loss.” AOI

119

[1555] Roland has seen the slaying of Duke Samson.

The grief he feels for the duke—you can imagine!

He spurs towards Valdabraun. Faster and faster

He rides. He wields his priceless Durandal

Above his head, then swings it down in anger

[1560] And cleaves the helmet, spattering the sapphires,

Slicing through skull and tunic, body, saddle

(All jeweled and trimmed in gold), cutting the stallion

Deeply through the spine. Praise or disparage,

Roland has killed them both. The pagans clamor,

[1565] “That was a woeful blow against our baron!”

“I cannot love you pagans,” Roland answers.

[1592] “You people are wrong, and still you’re arrogant.” AOI

120

Grimthought, a Moor from Africa, appears,

Son of King Grimtail, in hammered-gold armor gleaming

[1570] Brighter in sunlight than his pagan peers.

He rides his sturdy stallion, Crazyleap.

No other horse can equal it in speed.

He strikes Lord Anseïs with his long spear,

Breaks the blue and scarlet buckler, pierces

[1575] The chain-mail hauberk, breaks the links to pieces;

And the spear’s wood shaft thrusts the point of steel

Deep into his flesh. The days of Anseïs

Are finished in this moment. The French knights weep

[1604] And cry out, “Anseïs, what a sad deed!”

121

[1580] Lord Turpin ranges the field. You never knew

A chaplain chanting mass to comfort troops

Who swung a sword with greater fortitude.

He shouts to Grimthought, “Evil come to you!

You slew a hero that I love and rue.”

[1585] He spurs his horse and, with a stroke straight through

The colorful gold Toledo shield, uproots

The pagan from the stirrups. Onto the dew

[1612] He flings the corpse beneath his horse’s hoofs.

122

Grandonies, the son of King Capél

[1590] Of Cappadocia, leads his regiment

Upon the horse he calls Marmoriés.

Quicker than bird in evening ever sped,

He spurs, drops reins, hits Gerin. The spearhead

Shatters the scarlet shield hung from the neck,

[1595] Breaks the chain-mail tunic open, enters

The flesh, pulling in ensign cloths of yellow.

He dashes Gerin’s body on a rock, where head

And neck both break. Then he kills Gerin’s friend

And war-mate, Gerer. Likewise, Bérenger,

[1600] And Guyun of St. Anthony as well,

And Astor, Duke of Valerie-Valere

High on the Rhone—the pagan kills all of them.

Great is the joy of all the Saracens.

[1628] The Frenchmen say, “Many of ours are dead.”

123

[1605] Count Roland grips his bloody-handled sword.

He hears his brave French barons lament and mourn,

And at the sound he feels his own heart torn.

“Pagan!” he cries, “may every ill be yours!

The men you killed—I’ll see that you pay sorely

[1610] For every one of them.” He spurs his horse.

[1635] The two are close. Which one will come out worse?

124

Grandonies was a noble, valiant pagan,²⁶

Hard fighting for his lord, strong, tough, and brave.

Seeing Roland charging straight his way,

[1615] He knows him by his bearing and his strength,

His power, his fierce and concentrated gaze.

Suddenly Grandonies is too afraid

To move. He wants to run away. Too late.

Roland is on him. Down Roland swings the blade,

[1620] Down through the helmet’s noseguard, through the face,

The mouth, the teeth, the Algerian chain mail,

The golden saddle, and the swift steed’s mane

And back and belly. Man and beast fall slain.

Loud lamentations from the men of Spain!

[1625] [1652] “Our Safeguard strikes good blows,” the Frenchmen say.

Horrible and great the battle rages.

The Frenchmen strike with spears and gleaming blades.

What a spectacle of men and beasts in pain!

Thousands of wounded, bleeding, dead, and maimed

[1630] Heap up pell-mell about the battle plain

Face down, face up. The Saracens fight bravely.

The suffering is more than they can bear.

Like it or not, they yield ground and are chased

[1660] Out of the field by the knights of Charlemagne.²⁷ AOI

125

[1635] The battle rages, marvelous and deadly.

The French knights fight furiously and well,

Slicing fists, rib cages, backbones, necks,

Through outer garments into living flesh.

Loud is the outcry of the Saracens:

[1640] “Mohammed curse you, Northern Continent!

No other land has peopled such aggressors.

Great King Marsille,” they cry, “we are hard pressed.

[1670] Ride, King Marsille, ride to our rescue!”

126

Roland calls to his war-mate, Oliver.

[1645] “My friend,” he says to him, “you must admit

How splendid a knight the lord archbishop is.

No knight beneath the firmament exists

For striking with a lance or spear like him.”

Oliver answers, “Let’s give him some assistance.”

[1650] Again they plunge in where the fighting’s thick.

Horrible are the thrusts, grievous the hits.

The Christians suffer unbearable afflictions.

Roland and Oliver—what deeds they did!

The archbishop spears and thrusts. (One can confirm

[1655] His deeds in letters, documents, and writs.

Chronicles of the French sums up his kills:

More than four thousand.) The French withstand the first,

Second, third, and fourth onslaughts. The fifth

Breaks up their ranks, and all are killed but sixty,

[1660] [1690] Who will exact revenge before they’re killed. AOI

127

Roland sees his loyal barons down.

He looks around to Oliver and shouts,

“Brother! What do you think, dear noble count?

Look at them all fallen, these men of ours.

[1665] Poor lovely France, to have to do without

So many valiant knights! Dear King, great Power,

Charlemagne, why aren’t you with us now?

Oliver, brother, how can we hold out?

How can we let him know we’ve been pinned down?”

[1670] Oliver answers, “Roland, I don’t know how.

[1701] Better to die than people call us cowards.” AOI

128

“I’ll wind my Olifant,” Roland declares.

“Charles will hear it beyond the pass through Spain.

The French will come riding back and flood this plain.”

[1675] Oliver answers, “Then you would be disgraced.

Think of the shame your relatives would bear,

Knowing you blew your horn, yes, lifelong shame.

You wouldn’t when I asked. Now if you change,

Never say you blew it for my sake.

[1680] If you blow your horn, you won’t be brave.

Your arms are dripping blood.” Roland explains,

[1712] “I’ve struck some mighty blows today.” AOI

129

Roland says, “This battle’s getting hard.

I’ll wind my horn and send news up to Charles.”

[1685] Oliver says, “That wouldn’t show much valor.

You wouldn’t blow your horn when all this started,

Although I asked. If Charles were here, no harm

Would come to us. It’s not their fault they’re far

And riding ever farther. By my heart,

[1690] If I could see my noble sister Alda,

[1721] She’d never lie with Roland in her arms.” AOI

130

Roland asks, “Why are you mad at me?”

Oliver says, “Your valor is the reason!

Wisdom serves more than thoughtless bravery.

[1695] Better good sense than unbridled chivalry.

Frenchmen are dead because you didn’t heed.

Now Charles will never profit from our deeds.

He would be here if you had heeded me,

The battle won for us, and King Marsille

[1700] Killed or imprisoned. Would God we’d never seen

Your valor, Roland! Charles will not receive

More aid from us. No greater man will be

Again till trumpets sound eternity.

France will be brought to shame, and you die here.

[1705] This is the breakup of the Twelve French Peers.

[1736] There will be nothing left of us by evening.” AOI

131

Hearing the two friends quarrel, Archbishop Turpin

Kicks forward with his mother-of-pearl spurs

And rides between the two of them to urge,

[1710] “Sir Roland, please! And you, Sir Oliver!

Don’t turn against each other now. It’s certain

Winding your Olifant will not defer

Our dying, but it will, when it is heard,

Avenge our deaths. Blow for the king’s return!

[1715] No mirth this evening for our murderers!

Our French will get down from their steeds and search,

Looking for us about the trodden earth.

They’ll find us, dead and tattered, and confer

Our bodies back to France on beasts of burden

[1720] And weep for us all the way. We will be buried

In holy ground within the walls of churches

And not feed dogs, wild pigs, scavenger birds.”

[1752] Roland replies, “You give good counsel, sir.” AOI

132

Roland lifts up his Olifant and winds

[1725] That ivory clarion with all his might.

The road to the North is long. The hills are high.

The horn blast echoes and re-echoes thirty miles.

Charlemagne hears it. So do all his knights.

“Our men back there,” he shouts, “they’re in a fight!”

[1730] “If anyone else,” Ganelon replies,

[1760] “Suggested that, I’d call it a huge lie.” AOI

133

Despite the pain, Count Roland eagerly grasps

And winds his horn with all the strength he has.

Blood surges from his mouth. The pressure cracks

[1735] His temples open and the blood spurts. The horn blast

Rings out for miles across the craggy lands.

Charlemagne hears it from beyond the pass.

Neïme hears it. So do the knights of France.

The king exclaims, “That’s Roland’s Olifant!

[1740] He never winds it but he’s hot in battle!”

“There is no battle. White-bearded King, old man,

You talk like a child,” Ganelon reprimands

The emperor. “It’s Roland’s pride—so vast,

Why God puts up with it I cannot grasp.

[1745] He captured Nople against your own command.

The Saracens sallied. Then Roland, that good vassal,

Killed them and from a spring of water splashed

The tell-tale blood from all the meadow grass.

He’ll blow his horn to chase some little rabbit.

[1750] He’s riding with his Peers, joking and prattling.

Nobody on earth would dare attack him.

Ride on! Why are you wasting time? The path

[1784] Still stretches northward to the heart of France.” AOI

134

Count Roland winds his horn. Mouth bleeds. Blood trickles

[1755] Out of his temples, and the pressure cinches

His head with pain. The mountain crags are ringing.

Charles hears the sound. The Frenchmen stop to listen.

Charles says, “That horn was blown from a long distance.”

“A battle’s being fought, in my opinion,”

[1760] The Duke Neïme hastens to answer him;

“And you’re betrayed by him who says it isn’t.

Arm yourself! Let your Mountjoy be lifted.

Ride to the rescue of your noble kindred.

[1795] You’ve heard! You know the trouble Roland’s in.”

135

[1765] Charlemagne has his trumpeters wind their horns.

The French dismount and dress themselves for war:

Hauberks and helmets, gold-inlaid steel swords,

Tough spears, tough shields artfully adorned.

Gold, red, white pennants mark each battle corps.

[1770] Now they remount. The barons spur their horses

Into the pass and southward through the Ports

And gallop the narrow road that threads the gorge.

Not one lord speaks to his companion lord.

Each thinks, “Roland, if you still live, we will support

[1775] You to a man and add our strokes to yours.”

[1806] But what’s the use? Too long in lovely France they’ve loitered.

136

The sun is brilliant as it lingers westward.

Their armor flames and glistens in reflection;

So do the chain-mail hauberks, helmets,

[1780] The shields with flowers painted in the metal,

The spears and flashing ensign flags and pennants.

The emperor rides hard and bitter-tempered,

While sorrowful and angry ride the Frenchmen,

Worried for Roland. Every one of them

[1785] Weeps to think of what may lie ahead.

The emperor has Ganelon arrested

And handed to the cooks to be sequestered.

He gives Besgun, his chief cook, these directions:

“Guard him for what he is, a common felon.

[1790] The man betrayed my knights and my dependents.”

Besgun consigns him to his hundred best

And meanest scullions, mess boys, kitchen men.

They pluck his beard and mustache, pound his flesh,

Four punches each, and beat him with boards and trenchers.

[1795] They forge and seal a collar round his neck

And bait him like a bear. To even better

Abuse, humiliate, and disrespect him,

They throw him on a packhorse. At their pleasure

[1829] He’ll lie there till the king comes back to get him.

137

[1800] The Spanish hills are dark, immense, and high; AOI

The valleys, low. Torrents rush deep inside.

Up front and back, loud bugles sound replies

To Olifant. Angry, the emperor rides.

His French are angry, too. They ride and sigh,

[1805] While not a knight among them stays dry-eyed.

“God, guard Roland!” inwardly they cry,

“Until we reach the field. Then side by side,

Fighting for him, what mighty blows we’ll strike!”

What use all this to him? They will arrive,

[1810] [1841] Having left late, late. They can’t get there in time. AOI

138

Angrily Charlemagne rides, his white beard fixed

Over his tunic. His brave French ride with him,

Every one of them in anguish, wishing

Their force could reach the field where Roland still

[1815] Defends himself as Saracens close in.

“If Roland’s wounded, how can he still live?”

The riders question one another grimly.

God, never will a captain or a king

[1850] Lead such good men as Roland’s last still-standing sixty! AOI

139

[1820] Roland surveys the field and sees his men

On slopes and plains, so many lying dead.

Knightly and generous, he weeps for them:

“May your souls rise to God, you noble French.

God grant you Paradise, and lay your heads

[1825] Down softly on celestial flower beds.

I never knew more loyal, valiant men.

You served me long, continually, and well.

For Charlemagne we won great lands together.

The emperor fed you long, for this cruel end.

[1830] Sweet land of lovely France! You are bereft

In one day’s debacle of all your best.

Barons of France, because of me you’re dead.

I cannot save you now, cannot defend you.

May God, who never lies, be your protection.

[1835] Oliver! I must not fail you, friend.

If wounds won’t kill me, grief will be my death.

[1868] Let’s strike into the thick of it again!”

140

Back into the battle Roland comes.

With Durendal he hews and hacks and thrusts.

[1840] He slices through the Saracen Faldrún

De Pui; then three more foes; then twenty-one

Of their best fighters. Never did warrior hunt

Hotter for vengeance. Pagan barons run

From him like deer before the hounds. “Well struck!”

[1845] The archbishop cries, “The way a good knight must

Who rides a steed and bears a lance and buckler!

If he’s in battle and he isn’t tough,

He’s not worth dirt, might as well be a monk

In one of those cloisters, muttering prayers for us

[1850] For all our sins. Mountjoy! Raise standards up!”

Roland cries, “Strike, you Frenchmen, strike! Spare none!”

On hearing this, the Christian barons plunge

[1885] Into the fray, with more losses to suffer.

141

Soldiers aware no quarter will be given

[1855] Fight back more savagely while they still live.

The French fight back like lions. On a hill

King Marsille on his warhorse, Gaignun, sits.

He’s ripe for battle. He spurs, aims, spears, hits

Lord Bevon of Dijon. The French shield splits.

[1860] The spear breaks through the hauberk. Bevon slips

Dead from the saddle. Marsille rides on full tilt,

Strikes Baron Gerart of Russillon, kills him,

Then kills Sir Ivon and Sir Yvoris.

Roland sees all and cries to the pagan king:

[1865] “May God in Heaven cast you into the pit!

You killed my battle-mates, and for that sin

You’ll learn my sword’s name when you feel its sting.”

Valiant in battle, Roland spurs and swings

And lops the king’s right hand off at the wrist,

[1870] Then wheels his horse and with another swing

Beheads young Jurfalé the Blond, the prince,

Marsille’s one son. “Help us, Mohammed, rid us,”

The pagans cry, “deliver us, and give us

Vengeance against this Charlemagne, who filled

[1875] Our sunny Spain with felons such as this.

We’ll hold the field though all of us be killed.”

They tell each other, “It’s useless to resist!”

A hundred thousand pagans turn and quit.

They leave the field, and no commander’s bidding

[1880] [1912] Will bring them back, and nothing ever will. AOI

142

Who’s left to care? Although Marsille heads home,

His caliph uncle, Marganice, won’t go.

He holds Alfrera, Carthage, Gumalio,

And all the cursed land of Ethiopia.

[1885] Black people fight in Marganice’s hosts,

Each with two big ears and a big nose.

Fifty thousand of them ride and patrol

The field of battle. Angry and ferocious,

They cry their standard up and scream their boasts.

[1890] Count Roland shouts, “Our martyrdom approaches.

We don’t have long to live. That I now know.

Make them pay with their lives! If they pay low,

The shame is yours. Strike with your swords! Strong blows!

Defend your lives and deaths with every stroke.

[1895] Let no disgrace of lovely France be spoken.

Our Charlemagne will come. When he beholds

The Saracens scattered dead, some fifteen foes

For every one of us, he will bestow

[1931] The blessings of a king upon our souls.” AOI

143

[1900] When Roland sees this host of enemies

Blacker than ink, riding with Marganice,

With no white showing but their teeth,

He says, “I realize now and I believe

We die today on this red battlefield.

[1905] Strike back to the battle, barons! Follow my lead.”

“Shame on the slowest!” shouts Oliver, his peer.

[1939] Once more the French assault the pagan shields.

144

The pagans see the Christian ranks are down.

Then they take heart and tell each other proudly,

[1910] “The emperor is wrong. The right is ours.”

Marganice sits firmly on his mount.

He kicks with golden spurs and wheels around,

Strikes Oliver from behind, and the spear pounds

Through the chain-mail hauberk, and the point gouges

[1915] Through his rib cage. “You’re badly hit!” he shouts.

“Charles, riding north, should not have let you down.

He wronged our people. Killing you now counts

[1951] As vengeance for the sacking of our towns.”

145

Oliver feels the death blow has been dealt.

[1920] He grips Hautcler with its burnished cutting edge,

Slices through the caliph’s golden helmet,

Shattering crystals, flowery trim, and gems,

Splitting the face back to the baby teeth, then sheds

The dead man from his blade. “Damn you,” he says,

[1925] “I don’t say Charles won’t suffer from our deaths.

But you will not be bragging of my death

To any lady in the land you left.

No wife or maid will hear you boast you shed

One drop of my blood, or of any men.”

[1930] [1964] Then he cries out for Roland: “Roland, come help!” AOI

146

Oliver feels his wound and knows he’s dying.

His will for vengeance isn’t satisfied.

In the crush of battle, he strikes and thrusts and strikes.

He hacks off lances, shields, and bucklers; slices

[1935] Feet and fists, saddles, ribs, and sides.

Whoever saw him dismembering pagan knights

And flinging their bodies into ghastly piles

About the battlefield would call to mind

All past chivalric deeds. “Mountjoy!” he cries

[1940] And loudly calls up Charlemagne’s ensign.

“Roland!” he calls his friend and peer, “come ride,

Friend and companion! Ride with me in this fight.

[1977] We suffer worse not fighting side by side.” AOI

147

Roland looks hard at Oliver. The hues

[1945] Of his friend’s face are turning ashen blue

As blood runs down between his armor’s grooves.

Blood clots drip down under his horse’s hoofs.

“God,” Roland says, “I don’t know what to do.

Dear friend, your valor is the death of you.

[1950] Greater than yours, no baron ever knew.

Poor lovely France, to lose and be denuded

Of her best knights. Great loss, great sorrow, too,

Sad day that Charlemagne must rue.”

[1988] Roland slumps forward on his horse and swoons. AOI

148

[1955] There slumps Roland, fallen on his horse,

And there is Oliver, whose wound is mortal.

So much more blood from his back wound pours,

He can’t see far or near to know the form

Or face of any man that comes before him,

[1960] Not even Roland, his friend through countless wars.

Blinded, he strikes out upward with his sword

At Roland’s gemmed gold helmet. The blade stops short

In the steel noseguard, then cuts up past his forehead.

Roland looks, and in language sweet and courtly,

[1965] Asks, “Oliver, are you hitting me on purpose?

It’s Roland, who loves you! You didn’t warn

Or challenge me.” Oliver retorts,

“I hear you now. Friend Roland, know for sure

I couldn’t see you. May God see and restore you—

[1970] I did hit you. Will you forgive me for it?”

“You didn’t hurt me. What’s to forgive? Of course!

I do forgive you, here and before the Lord.

They bow to each other from their separate horses,

[2009] And thus their love and their parting are recorded.

149

[1975] Oliver feels the creeping in of death,

And his eyes turn inward in his head.

He cannot see, and he hears less and less.

He gets down from his horse, lies down to rest.

He calls to mind his sins, and he repents.

[1980] He joins his hands, lifts them up, and begs

The Lord to let him have a place in Heaven.

He blesses Charles and lovely France, and he blesses

Especially, more than any, Roland his friend.

His heart fails him. His helmet weighs down his head.

[1985] His whole body sinks and presses to the earth.

He cannot linger. Oliver is dead.

Roland, good baron, weeps, is overwhelmed

[2023] By sorrow worse than the sorrow of other men.

150

Roland, when he sees his friend is fallen,

[1990] No longer living, face in the ground, still calls

Again and again to him though he is gone:

“Your valor, Oliver, was your downfall.

We’ve been together years and days, and always

I never betrayed you; you never treated me wrong.

[1995] Your dying tortures me that I live on.”

He loses consciousness again and sprawls

Forward on Veillantif, senseless and tossing

This way and that because his boots stay caught

[2034] In his gold stirrups, and his body won’t fall.

151

[2000] By the time Roland’s senses have recovered,

The armies of the pagans will have cut

The French forces down to almost none.

Archbishop Turpin still has not succumbed—

None left but him and Walter de la Humme,

[2005] Who rode down fighting from the ridge above

To fight the Spaniards. Spaniards have overcome

And slaughtered his intrepid seven hundred

For all his efforts. Now he rides through the crush

Seeking for Roland to help him in the struggle.

[2010] “Where are you, Count Roland? I never feared or stumbled

When you were riding near. It’s Walter, the one

Who slew the pagan general Maëgut,

The nephew of the old white-haired Droún.

I am your vassal, whose valor, sir, you loved.

[2015] My shield is broken, my lance is just a stub,

My hauberk’s torn. A steel spearhead is stuck

Deep in my flesh. I know my death has come,

But I’ll pay pagans for what they’ve done to us.”

Roland hears. He wakens, straightens up,

[2020] [2055] And spurs his horse toward where the voice comes from. AOI

152

Roland is racked with pain and rage. He rides

Into the crush of battle, thrusts and strikes,

Kills twenty Spaniards. Riding at his side,

Walter kills six; and the archbishop, five.

[2025] “These three are monsters!” the pagan soldiers cry.

“Fight, lords! Don’t let them get away alive.

Whoever doesn’t rush them is no knight,

He’s coward who lets one of them survive.”

They bang their shields and raise a hue and cry

[2030] [2065] And close in on the Frenchmen from all sides. AOI

153

Count Roland is a noble fighting peer;

Walter is good at all chivalric feats;

Archbishop Turpin, valiant, bold, and fierce.

They strike and hack the pagans but still keep

[2035] Guard of each other against their enemies.

A thousand foes dismount and on their feet

Accompany four thousand more who wheel

On horseback all around the three French heroes

But do not ride too close to them for fear

[2040] Of the French swords. They keep away and heave

Large stones and lances, knives, spearheads, and spears,

Shoot darts and arrows. The first barrages stream

At Walter’s head and heart. He falls dead on the field.

More break through Turpin’s helmet, burst his shield.

[2045] His head is wounded, his chain-mail hauberk pierced.

Into his flesh drive four iron-headed spears.

At last he falls when arrows kill his steed

And it topples sideways out from underneath.

[2082] When the great archbishop falls—O God, what grief! AOI

154

[2050] With four spearheads embedded in his flesh,

Turpin of Reims feels stricken unto death

But leaps to his feet from the hard ground where he fell.

He looks at Roland, runs to him, and says,

“I have not lost! A brave knight, while there’s breath,

[2055] Fights on.” He draws his burnished sword, Almace,

Charges, and rains down on the Saracens

A thousand blows. (Charles will find evidence

Of how he spared no enemies near the end:

Around him lie four hundred stricken men,

[2060] Some wounded, some gouged, some of them beheaded,

All told in the Chronicles. Sir Giles was present,

For whom God works great signs; this saint attests

In Laon Abbey charters to these true events.

[2098] Who doubts these facts will never comprehend them.)

155

[2065] Roland fights very well, as he knows how.

His body sweats, he’s hot, and his pulse pounds

Painfully in his brain from when he sounded

His Olifant. He knows he must find out

If Charlemagne is coming. He puts his mouth

[2070] To Olifant again. It weakly sounds.

The emperor stops short, listens, then shouts:

“My lords, it’s Roland! Sad news! The count,

My nephew! I hear his horn announce

His dying hour. Gallop full speed to the south

[2075] If you would join him! Trumpeters: sound!

Sound trumpets all the way to the battleground!”

You should have heard the horns: a hundred thousand

Resounding down the valleys from the mountains.

The pagans hear. They do not laugh. They shout,

[2080] [2114] “King Charlemagne will be attacking now!” AOI

156

The pagans say, “The emperor is coming.

Those are the French! Listen to their trumpets.

If Charles arrives, all of us will suffer.

If Roland lives, he’ll start the war all over.

[2085] Our homeland Spain never will be recovered.”

They pick among themselves four hundred

Armed knights, the best on the field that they can muster.

They circle Roland, raise a cry, and storm upon him.

[2123] Roland has much to do now—more than enough. AOI

157

[2090] Count Roland, when he sees them closing in,

Gets ready for them. Tough, powerful, and grim,

He will not yield an inch, not while he lives.

Firm in his stirrups, with his gold spurs he kicks

Forward on his warhorse Veillantif

[2095] And crashes straight to where the battle’s thickest.

Unhorsed, Archbishop Turpin runs with him.

They shout to each other, “Strike, brother! Hit on hit!

You heard the emperor’s brass trumpets ring.

[2133] They trumpet the arrival of our king.”

158

[2100] Count Roland never could abide a coward

Or a self-serving baron, or a proud one,

Or vassal that his master couldn’t count on.

He calls to Turpin, standing on the ground,

“I’m up on horseback, sir, and you’re dismounted.

[2105] For love of you, whatever be the outcome,

I will slow down for you and will allow

No one between us. What’s good or ill is ours

To share together. Strike with combined power,

And the best strokes will come from Durendal!”²⁸

[2110] “Curse us if we don’t strike!” Lord Turpin shouts.

[2145] “Charles will avenge us. I hear his trumpets now.”

159

The pagans say, “God, we were born to grief!

It’s the worst day a soldier can conceive.

We have lost our leaders; we have lost our peers.²⁹

[2115] Valiant King Charles is coming back. We hear him.

French trumpets blare. We hear the Frenchmen cheer,

Their ‘Mountjoy! Mountjoy!’ growing ever nearer.

Roland is so abominably fierce

No living knight can bring him to his knees.

[2120] Let’s throw things at him, curse this place, and leave.”

The pagans throw lances, javelins, and spears;

Pikes, feathered darts, and knives burst Roland’s shield

And tear his chain-mail hauberk into pieces

But do not wound him. But Veillantif, his steed,

[2125] Takes thirty wounds and stumbles from underneath

His master, where he dies.³⁰ The pagans flee

[2163] And leave Count Roland standing on his feet. AOI

160

Anxious and angry, the Saracens take flight

Back toward Spain as fast as they can ride.

[2130] Count Roland does not follow where they fly.

Veillantif, his good warhorse, has died.

Now he’s afoot, whatever he wants or likes.

He walks to help Lord Turpin where he lies,

Unstraps his comrade’s helmet, gently slides

[2135] The helmet from his head and then unbinds

His hauberk and tears his tunic off in stripes

To stop and bind his wounds. He holds him tight

Against his chest; then on the green hillside

He lays him down. There he entreats him mildly,

[2140] “Archbishop, dear noble friend of mine,

Give me your leave to leave you for a while.

All of our friends, their bodies where they died—

We cannot leave them lying through the night.

I’m going to look for them and, when I find them,

[2145] Bring them for you to see and recognize.”

“Go and come back,” the wounded lord replies;

[2183] “This battlefield, thank God, is yours and mine.”

161

Roland, alone, goes through the field of battle.

He searches hills and level spots and valleys.

[2150] Here he finds Gerin and Gerer, dear companions.

There he finds Anseïs and there Duke Samson,

And the old Duke of Russillun, Gerart.

One by one he carries back these barons

And ranges them below their lordly chaplain,

[2155] Who cannot help but weep. He lifts his hand up

And blesses them, then says, “For you, such sadness.

May God in Glory bring you to His mansions

To rest in roses and lilies of the valley.

I feel my own death coming on me fast.

[2160] [2199] I will not see the Emperor of France.”

162

Roland goes back and searches high and low,

And he finds Oliver, the friend he rode with.

He gathers him against his chest and holds him,

Lifts, carries him to where the Peers repose

[2165] At the archbishop’s knees. There he lowers

And lays him on a shield. Turpin leans close,

Makes signs of the cross above his body, intones

A prayer of absolution. Their sorrow grows.

They feel great pity. “Oliver,” says Roland,

[2170] “You were the son of Duke Reinier the Bold,

Who held the Runer Valley as your homeland.

For breaking spears and shields, for overthrowing

Insolent men and bringing proud men low,

For counseling decent people and upholding

[2175] Good men at arms, for conquering thieves and rogues,

[2214] No better knight than you was ever known.”

163

Roland, when he surveys his Peers, all dead,

And Oliver, his own belovèd friend,

His eyes grow wet, and all the color empties

[2180] From face and head. For sorrow, seeing them,

Like it or like it not, he can’t stand steady

But falls forward in a faint upon the meadow.

[2221] “Your valor is your grief,” the archbishop says.

164

When Turpin sees Roland unconscious on the grass,

[2185] He feels grief worse than he felt for any man.

He reaches out and grips the Olifant

To carry water in for his companion

From a fast-flowing stream in Roncevals.

He takes a little stumbling step and staggers

[2190] Forward, for now he is too weak to stand.

With so much blood lost, all his strength is sapped.

He doesn’t manage to struggle on much farther

Before his heart gives out and he collapses.

[2232] Death comes upon his body with great anguish.

165

[2195] Count Roland’s mind returns from dark to light.

He stands, but his head bursts from the inside.

Roland looks up, then down along his line

Of barons on the green grass where they lie,

And past, and sees a noble knight lie dying.

[2200] It’s the archbishop, ordained by God on high,

Confessing his sins, with his hands clasped tight

And lifted in entreaty to the sky,

Pleading with God to grant him Paradise.

Turpin is dead now, Charles’s valiant knight

[2205] And champion against the pagans all his life,

Preaching eloquent sermons, fighting great fights.

[2245] Grant him Your holy blessings, God Almighty. AOI

166

Roland is looking down at the archbishop.

Beside the body, he sees the entrails spilling.

[2210] Brains bubble from the forehead, but, white as lilies

And beautiful across his battered rib cage,

His two hands make a cross. For benediction,

Roland laments for him in his tradition:

“Ah, gentle knight, baron of noble lineage,

[2215] I offer you to God. Nobody living,

Since the Apostles lived and the first Christians,

Strove so eagerly to do His bidding.

No one was so prophetic and so skillful.

To champion faith, no one was so winning.

[2220] Now may your spirit suffer no affliction.

[2258] May Heaven open wide and let you in!”

167

Count Roland senses his own death approach.

His ears feel the pressure, how his brains explode!

He prays, “God, take my dear companions’ souls,”

[2225] Then prays for himself to Gabriel. He holds

His Oliphant and Durendal, his sword,

So that for them he suffer no reproach.³¹

As far as an arrow shot from a crossbow,

He goes toward Spain, then up a grassy slope

[2230] To a high bluff where stand two lovely oaks.

At last he reaches four large marble stones,

Then topples backward on the green grass. Roland

[2270] Has fainted. Now his death approaches.

168

High are the hills. Two trees spread out above.

[2235] Four marble boulders glimmer in the sun.

Unconscious on the green ground Roland slumps.

A Saracen is watching him, someone

Who played dead, lay down quietly among

The other bodies, and smeared himself with blood.

[2240] He rises and reaches Roland at a run.

He once was handsome, valorous, and tough.

Pride makes him mortally delirious.

He pulls the armor from Roland’s limbs and trunk

And says, “King Charles’s nephew! Now he’s not worth much.

[2245] I’ll take this sword back to Arabia.”

[2283] Roland awakes; his sword is being tugged.

169

The sword’s removal wakes Roland from his swoon.

His eyes open. All he says is, “You?

You are not one of us, none of my troops.”

[2250] He grips his Olifant and does not mean to lose it.

With it he hits the thief’s helmet, breaks its jewels,

Breaks steel and bone and skull. Out the blood spews.

From the disfigured face, the eyes obtrude.

The pagan falls dead, his head at Roland’s boots.

[2255] “Saracen son of a bitch, you dared assume

What’s mine, for right or wrong, would fit your use?

No one who hears of this won’t call you fool.

Now Olifant is broken almost in two,

[2296] The gold trim cracked, scattered are all its jewels.”

170

[2260] Roland realizes he cannot see.

As steady as he can, he gets to his feet.

He’s lost the color from his brows and cheeks.

A red-brown boulder lies within his reach.

Hurting, he strikes ten times, and his blade shrieks

[2265] But does not break or lose one notch of steel.

“Help me,” he cries, “help me, Mary Queen!

Ah, Durendal, your strength was woe to me.

Once I am dead, I cannot be your keeper.

I won so many battles on the field

[2270] And conquered so many countries and regimes

Now held by Charlemagne of the White Beard,

No knight must hold you who would flee from fear.

A knight who was good did hold you many years.

[2311] In holy France, no better will ever be.”³²

171

[2275] Roland hammers the hard stone with his blade,

Which does not even nick, though the steel wails,

And when at last he knows it will not break,

“Ah, Durendal, my valiant,” he complains,

“You gleam and glimmer in the sun like flame.

[2280] When Charles was in the Valley of Moriane,

God had His angel give you to him, saying,

‘Give this to one of your knights.’ To me he gave you.

With his two hands, he cinched you to my waist,

The noble king! With you I won the states

[2285] Of Anjou, Poitou, Brittany, and Maine,

Provence and Lombardy and Aquitaine,

Low lands of Flanders and Normandy the Great,

Burgundy, Bavaria, Romagna, Romania,

Poland, and Constantinople, which I made pay

[2290] Homage to Charles, then Saxony, then Wales,

Scotland, and far-off Ireland. I constrained

England to be his particular domain.

I suffer for you now, who overcame

Countries and provinces for Charlemagne.

[2295] I’d rather die than let this sword remain

In pagan hands. Great Father God, I pray,

[2337] Don’t let it happen. Do not let France be shamed.”

172

Count Roland strikes the red-brown stone—the strokes

He hammers on it, more than can be told.

[2300] The sword blade shrieks, but the good hard steel stays whole

And bounces toward the sun. At last he knows

It will not break. Softly to himself he moans,

“Ah, Durendal, so beautiful and holy,

With relics nestled in your hilt of gold:

[2305] A tooth of St. Peter, a vial of St. Basil’s blood,

A lock of St. Denis’ hair, and with all those,

A precious patch from Holy Mary’s robe.

It is not right that any pagan hold you,

Good Durendal. You must serve Christians only,

[2310] And never cowards! With you I’ve overthrown

So many countries, so many earthly thrones

For Charlemagne of the White Beard to own,

[2354] Magnanimous and mighty emperor.”

173

Roland can feel his death as it comes pouring

[2315] Into his heart, into his head and forehead.

He lies down on the grassy meadow floor

Beneath a pine, with Durendal, his sword,

Under his body, and Olifant, his horn.

He turns his head so that he faces forward

[2320] Against the fleeing pagans. Charles and his cohorts,

Seeing him lying there will be assured:

“The noble count, he died a conqueror.”

He beats his breast, repents his sins, implores

[2365] Forgiveness, glove held up and offered to the Lord. AOI

174

[2325] Roland feels his living moment finish.

His face toward Spain, he lies on a hilltop.

With one hand he beats his breast and whispers,

“Mea culpa; God in Your grace, have pity

For all my sins, the great ones and the little,

[2330] From my birth date until this day that kills me.”

To give his right glove up to God, he lifts it.

[2374] Angels from Paradise descend to him. AOI

175

Beneath a pine tree, Roland lays his head,

Face still toward Spain. How much he recollects!

[2335] The countries that he conquered and subjected,

The men of France from whom he is descended,

And Charlemagne, who cherished him and fed him.

He cannot help but weep as he remembers.

But now he must recall himself, confessing

[2340] His sins to God and begging for His mercy:

“Eternal God the Father, faithful ever,

Who rescued Lazarus from death and rescued

Daniel from the lions’ den, defend me

From my life’s sins, which put my soul in peril.”

[2345] He holds his right glove, offers it, and stretches

It up toward God. The Angel Gabriel

Receives it from his hand. Then Roland rests

His head upon his arm, clasps hands together,

And goes on further to his end.

[2350] God sends His cherubim with Gabriel

And Michael Help-of-Sailors. They descend

[2396] And carry Roland’s soul to Him in Heaven.

176

Roland is dead. God has his soul for keeping.

The emperor at Roncevals appears.

[2355] There is no track upon the ground, no field,

Not three square feet—not one—he doesn’t see

Littered with French or pagan knights. He screams,

“Roland, where are you? Where are you, nephew dear?

And the archbishop? And Oliver? Where is he?

[2360] Gerin and Gerer? Anseïs the Fierce?

Gerart of Russillon, whom I held dear?

And where are Otis, Ivon, and Yvoris?

Bérenger? Éngeler of Gascony?

Where is Duke Samson? Where are the Twelve Peers

[2365] I left behind?” What use are his loud pleas?

No one answers. “God,” he says, “woe is me!

The battle started, and I wasn’t here.”

Like a wild man, he weeps and tears his beard.

The barons of his army also weep,

[2370] While twenty thousand faint upon the field

[2417] And pity overwhelms the Duke Neïme.

177

In Roncevals there’s not a single knight

Who does not weep for pity at the sight

Of nephews, brothers, sons, who does not sigh

[2375] For friends and liege lords left on the field to die.

Many barons faint at what they find.

Immediately Neïme considers wisely:

“Look up!” he tells the emperor. “A mile

Ahead of us on the great road, see dust rise.

[2380] There many pagans must be taking flight.

Ride to avenge this sorrow. You must ride!”

“Alas! They’re already far,” King Charles replies.

“Advise me what I should do. What would be right?

They cut the flower of France. Look, here it lies.

[2385] —Milon, Oton, Gebuin!” the emperor cries,

“And Teobald of Reims! You are assigned

To guard the field, the valleys, and the heights.

Defend the men who died. Let them still lie.

Let not one animal, let not one lion,

[2390] And no man near them, not one serf or squire.

I do forbid that anyone come nigh

Until, God willing, we return from fighting.”

“Sire, we will,” they lovingly reply,

[2442] And with a thousand knights they stay behind. AOI

178

[2395] The king gives orders: “Let the trumpets sound!”

Now he rides southward with his great power.

The Spaniards show their backs, while the French thousands

Unite their minds and strengths to catch and confound them.

The king looks westward. Sunlight begins to founder.

[2400] He gets down off his horse, and down he bows

His forehead to the green and grassy ground

And prays to God, “Don’t let the sun go down!

Hold back the dark, O Lord. Let light abound!”

The angel who often speaks to him comes now.

[2405] “Ride, Charles,” he commands. “Daylight will be allowed.

God is aware that France has lost its flower.

Ride and wreak vengeance on that criminal crowd.”

[2457] Hearing these words, the emperor remounts. AOI

179

He wins a wonder from the King of Glory.

[2410] The sun in heaven shines and goes no lower.

The pagans flee. The French keep getting closer

And reach them at the Valley Tenebrosa.

They hound them farther on toward Saragossa,

Spearing and slicing them with mortal strokes.

[2415] They cut them off at all the paths and roadways.

For the retreating men, one way lies open:

The Ebro River, deep and rapid flowing,

And on it not a single barge or boat.

They pray to their god Tervagant and throw

[2420] Themselves into the flood. Their prayers are hopeless.

The costly armor weighs too much for floating.

Some sink like stones. The current rolls them over

Along the river bottom. Those who float

Choke on the waves. All drown. None makes it home.

[2425] [2475] The Frenchmen cry, “Alas, alas for Roland.” AOI

180

When Charles looks out at all the pagans slaughtered,

Some by swords, most of them by water,

And all the booty that the battle brought them,

He bows his head, and with the grass for altar,

[2430] Bows down to God, thanking Him, exalting.

When he gets up again, the sun is gone.

“It’s time to pitch our camp,” he tells his warriors.

“It’s dark, and Roncevals is too far off

To reach tonight. Our horses are exhausted.

[2435] Unsaddle them and let them graze unhaltered

About the meadows after they are watered.”

[2487] The French reply, “We will. These are good orders.” AOI

181

The emperor commands the camp be readied.

The French dismount. Around, the land is empty.

[2440] They take the saddles off their horses and divest them

Of golden bits and bridles, to graze unfettered

About the meadows where the grass is freshest.

Tonight no other service is expected.

All are exhausted. All lie down on earth.

[2445] [2495] Throughout the weary night, no one stands sentry.

182

The emperor lies down upon the plain.

Beside his head he keeps his long lance safe.

He has not taken off his saffron mail

Or any armor. His gem-starred helmet stays.

[2450] He keeps Joyeuse still cinched, his matchless blade,

Which changes colors thirty times a day.

We know about the Roman spear that made

The wound in crucified Lord Jesus’ waist.

King Charles obtained the spearhead, God be praised.

[2455] Into the sword’s gold hilt he had it placed.

Therefore Joyeuse is Charlemagne’s sword’s name

To celebrate the honor that God gave.

Joyeuse! In gratitude, French knights should raise

Their standard with the cry, “Mountjoy!” That way,

[2460] [2511] No force that comes against them can prevail.

183

The night is crystal clear, and the moon gleams.

Charles has bedded down, but he lies grieving

For Roland and Oliver, whom he loved dearly,

And the Twelve Peers, for all the brave French heroes

[2465] He left at Roncevals, dying and bleeding.

He cannot stop his sorrow, and he keeps weeping.

He prays to Heaven for their souls’ redeeming.

The king is worn. For all the hurt he’s feeling,

He finally sleeps, all his strength depleted.

[2470] Throughout the meadowland, French knights lie sleeping.

Too tired to stand, their horses end up eating

While lying down, whatever grass is nearest.

[2524] Great learning comes to those well versed in grief.

184

King Charles sleeps on like one exhaustion-stricken.

[2475] God sends the Angel Gabriel to visit.

The angel comes and stands guard at his pillow

And there uncovers for the king a vision

Full of terrifying signs and signals

Of a great battle still to fight. The king lifts

[2480] His eyes up to the sky and sees grim whirlwinds,

Ice storms, and thunderstorms. Lightnings cut zigzags

This way and that across the sky and kindle

Oceans of fire that rain on his divisions.

Tough spears of ash and apple can’t resist them.

[2485] The flames burn shields down to the gold hand-grips.

The helmets and the hauberks twist and crimp.

King Charles sees all the pain his knights are in.

Leopards and bears contend to eat his Christians.

Devils and imps and snakes and vipers sting them.

[2490] Dragons and more than thirty thousand griffons

Hurtle themselves upon the French to kill them.

“Help us!” the French cry. “Help us, Charles, our king!”

The king can’t hold back tears of grief and pity.

A lion, huge and proud in face and figure,

[2495] Bursts out from where the forest growth is thickest

And charges Charles, but the intended victim

Wrestles with the lion limb to limb.

Who stands, who stumbles, cannot be distinguished.

[2554] The dream concludes. And the king’s sleep continues.

185

[2500] After this dream, another vision comes.

He is in France at Aix and stands in front

Of a stone slab beside a chained bear cub.

From the Ardennes Mountains thirty more bears rush.

He hears them shout as if with human tongue,

[2505] “Unchain him, King! Give him back to us.

You have no right to bind him to your judgment.

We have the right to liberate our cousin.”

Down from the palace a swift greyhound comes running,

Cuts off the largest bear and leaps upon him

[2510] On the green lawn some distance from the others.

The king can look upon the wondrous struggle

But cannot tell which animal has won.

Only so much the angel has uncovered.

[2569] The king sleeps on until the sun comes up.

186

[2515] To Saragossa Marsille flees at last,

Gets off his horse where olives cast their shadow,

Takes his sword and byrnie off, unclasps

His helmet, lies clumsily on the green grass.

He sees himself bleeding where his fist was hacked

[2520] And loses consciousness from loss of blood and anguish.

Queen Bramimunde, his wife, is there. “Alas!”

She cries for him and weeps and wrings her hands.

About her twenty thousand soldiers stand,

Cursing Charlemagne and lovely France.

[2525] Enraged, they hurry to Apollo’s chapel,

Insult their god and blame him for what happened:

“What shame you laid on us when you abandoned

Our king, ungrateful god! Why did you leave him stranded?

Whoever serves you gets poor wages back.”

[2530] They rip his crown and scepter off and hang him

From a tall pillar by his hands, then drag him

Down to their feet, and with their clubs they batter

The statue till the wood and marble shatter.

They rip the carbuncle from Tervagant.

[2535] Into a ditch they haul Mohammed’s statue,

[2591] For dogs to gnaw upon and pigs to trample.

187

At last Marsille recovers from his faint

And bids that he be carried to his stateroom

With all its ornamental scripts and paintings,

[2540] While Bramimunde, his lady, tears her hair,

Laments and calls herself a wretch, and wails,

“O Saragossa, woe to you today,

Bereft of a great king who wisely reigned!

Our gods committed treason: they betrayed him

[2545] This morning in the battle when they failed him.

The emir is a coward,” she exclaims,

“If he won’t come do battle with these brave

French knights who fight their wars without a care

For life or death so long as they obey

[2550] Their king, their flowing-bearded Charlemagne,

So brave and heedless in the wars he wages

That from the battlefield he’ll never run away.

[2608] Will no one come to kill this Charlemagne?”

188

For seven years the emperor has been

[2555] In Spain and kept a mighty power with him,

Capturing castles, cities, fortresses,

Pursuing King Marsille, who from the first

Wrote desperate letters to the Grand Emir

Of Babylon, named Baligant, that prince

[2560] Who’d reigned since Virgil wrote and Homer lived,

Begging him to come and rescue him

In lofty Saragossa. Unless he did,

His gods would have to go. Into a ditch

His idols would be cast. The French would win

[2565] Whatever terms of peace from him they wished.

He’d settle with Charles and then become a Christian.

The Grand Emir is far; at first he lingers,

Then calls up conscripts from his forty kingdoms,

Commands his royal galley be outfitted,

[2570] And has more barges, warships, galleys built

In Alexandria, the seaport city.

When this armada is at last equipped,

His armies board. As summer is beginning,

[2629] Out onto the sea he thrusts his ships.

189

[2575] His hosts make up a huge and alien crew.

They row and sail and steer beneath the moon.

From masts and sterns and figureheads, carbuncle jewels

And lanterns dissipate the deep-sea gloom

And wash the oceanic night with beauty.

[2580] At last the shores of Spain come into view,

While far inland the country is illumined.

[2638] A coast guard runs to bring Marsille the news. AOI

190

The pagan people: they never will let go.

These leave the sea for where fresh waters flow.

[2585] They sail up past Marbrise and past Marbrow.

They sail far up the Ebro, and then row.

Their strings of carbuncles and lanterns glow

All through the night and light the way they go.

[2645] When morning breaks, they come to Saragossa. AOI

191

[2590] The sun is shining and the day is clear.

The Grand Emir steps out onto the beach.

The men of Spain come down from land to meet him.

Seventeen kings attend the Grand Emir,

Too many counts and dukes to number here.

[2595] They spread a white silk cloth upon the green

Underneath a shady laurel tree

And there install a throne of ivory.

There Baligant the Emir takes his seat.

The rest attend him, standing on their feet.

[2600] They pay attention while their master speaks:

“Listen, you noble knights, to my decree:

The Emperor of France—he ought not eat

Or sleep unless permission comes from me.

Throughout all Spain, this man makes war on me.

[2605] I go to lovely France. Him I shall seek.

I dedicate my life, and will not cease

Until he dies or spurns his Christianity.”

[2664] The emir slaps his right glove on his knee.

192

Once he has spoken, he is so inflamed

[2610] That all the gold on earth could not restrain him

From riding straight to Aix, where Charles holds state.

His counselors counsel him and heap on praise.

He calls two knights to hear him and obey.

Clarifan and Claren are their names.

[2615] He says, “You are the sons of Malatrain,

Who was my messenger. Now you convey

This message for me to Marsille of Spain.

Tell him I have come to give him aid

Against the French. We have a war to wage.

[2620] I’ll fight against them if they don’t escape me.

Give King Marsille this gold-trimmed glove to wear

On his right fist. Also, do not fail

To hand him this baton, with gold inlay.

Then have him come to me with oaths to swear

[2625] Of loyalty to me. I shall invade

And conquer France and capture Charlemagne.

Unless he falls down at my feet and prays

For mercy and repudiates his faith,

I’ll snatch the crown myself from his white pate!”

[2630] [2685] “Your Majesty speaks well,” the pagans say.

193

“Ride fast,” says Baligant, “don’t linger.”

Both messengers reply, “Yes, Sire, we will!”

One brother holds the glove, and one the stick.

They ride full speed to Saragossa. Quickly

[2635] They pass ten gates and gallop across four bridges

And through the streets where merchants make their livings.

Uphill they gallop through the pagan city,

Approach the palace and can hear within it

The noise of many pagans bearing witness

[2640] With tears and shrieks that the gods give no assistance.

“Mohammed, Tervagant, Apollo are indifferent!

What will become of us?” they wail and whimper

One to another. “We’re stricken and bewildered.”

“We’ve lost our King Marsille.” “The king is crippled.

[2645] Yesterday Roland cut off his right fist.”

“And Jurfalé, the blond young prince, is killed.

Today all Spain will be a French dominion.”

[2704] The messengers dismount at a stone pillar.

194

They leave their horses where an olive shades them.

[2650] Two Saracens take their horses by the reins.

Each brother clasps the other brother’s cape

As up and up they climb the palace stairway

And walk into the royal vaulted chamber.

Politely they make perverted salutation.

[2655] “May Lord Mohammed, who holds us all,” they say,

“Lord Tervagant, and Lord Apollo save

The king and guard the queen.”—“You must be crazy,”

Says Bramimunde the Queen. “Our gods broke faith

At Roncevals. That’s where their powers failed us.

[2660] They didn’t keep our knights from being slain.

My lord rode out to battle and they failed him.

Look at him now—Count Roland amputated

The king’s right fist. Now Spain is Charlemagne’s.

What will happen to me, most wretched lady?

[2665] [2723] Why not just kill me? Will some man do that favor?” AOI

195

“Lady,” says Claren to the queen, “don’t prattle.

We’re messengers from pagan Baligant,

Who bids us tell you he will save your master.

He sends his stick and glove. We came to land

[2670] From Ebro River with four thousand rafts,

Also with barges, galleons, and galleys—

I couldn’t count how many ships he has.

Our lord is rich and powerful. He plans

To seek out Charlemagne in far-off France,

[2675] Kill him or make him spurn his faith.” “Small chance!”

Says Bramimunde. “His trip will turn out bad.

Your lord can find the French nearer than France.

For seven years they’ve occupied our land.

Charlemagne is a noble, brave combatant.

[2680] He’d rather die than run away from battle.

All other kings? To him they’re callow lads.

[2740] He’s not afraid of any living man.”

196

“No more of that!” suddenly shouts Marsille.

“Sir messengers,” he tells them, “speak to me.

[2685] You see me maimed to death. No heir will I leave.

I have no son or daughter left. Last evening

I lost my one son on the battlefield.

Go tell the Grand Emir to come and see me.

He has some claim on me as my emir.

[2690] If he wants Spain, I say she’s his to keep.

Let him defend her from the enemy.

I’ll counsel him on how he will defeat

King Charlemagne and bring him to his knees

Within four weeks. Here! Take him the keys

[2695] To Saragossa. Tell him not to leave!”

[2754] “Well said, my lord,” the messengers agree. AOI

197

“This emperor,” Marsille says with a scowl,

“Has killed my men and laid waste all around,

Trampled my farmlands, ruined and ravaged my towns.

[2700] Seven miles off, according to my count,

Tonight beside the Ebro he beds down.

Tell the emir to come with all his power

Against King Charles to joust him and confound him.

He holds the keys to Saragossa now.”

[2705] The messengers take the keys from him and bow.

[2764] They walk back through the palace doors and out.

198

The two messengers mount and ride in haste

Rapidly from the city, all the way

To the emir, to whom they now convey

[2710] The keys to Saragossa. The emir exclaims,

“What happened? Where is the King of Spain?

I told you, ‘Bring him here!’” “The king is maimed

And dying,” Claren says. “King Charlemagne

Rode home to lovely France the other day

[2715] With his main army through the mountains of Spain.

Roland, captaining the rearguard, trailed

In the Spanish Pass with Oliver, his mate,

Twelve Peers, and twenty thousand French invaders,

Armed and in armor. There brave Marsille waylaid them

[2720] And attacked Roland. They jousted face to face.

Roland charged; with Durendal, his blade,

He swung and cut through King Marsille’s chain mail

And lopped his right fist off. And Jurfalé,

Marsille’s belovèd only son and heir—

[2725] Roland killed him! And many other brave

Barons of Spain were killed. Marsille escaped.

He could not stay. But Charles is giving chase.

Marsille sends word and pleads with you to save him.

He says the land of Spain is yours to claim.”

[2730] Baligant hears and nods and meditates

[2789] And feels such sorrow that it almost drives him crazy. AOI

199

“Yesterday was a battle,” Claren says,

“At Roncevals. There died King Charles’s nephew.

Count Roland; so did Oliver, his friend,

[2735] And the Twelve Peers that Charlemagne loved best;

And with them perished twenty thousand French.

Marsille’s right fist was severed, and he fled,

Chased by the emperor. No Spanish knight is left

Not slain or sunk to Ebro’s riverbed.

[2740] Beside its banks the French have pitched their tents

Near us and too far forward to effect

An orderly retreat if you want vengeance.”

Baligant scowls, but the thought that he can catch

The emperor makes him happy nevertheless.

[2745] He leaps up from his ivory throne and says,

“Out of your ships! Onto your horses, men!

Ride and attack before the French suspect.

If they escape, Marsille will be unavenged!

[2809] For his right fist, I’ll have King Charles’s head.”

200

[2750] Down from their ships, knights from Arabia troop.

They mount their horses and get onto their mules.

They ride. What more can these knights do?

The emir calls Grimálfin, whom he approves,

And says, “You take command of all my troops.”

[2755] He mounts a swift bay steed and takes the route

To Saragossa, riding with four dukes.

They soon arrive and stop at a stone stoop.

Four counts attend the emir’s stirruped boot

As he dismounts. They reach the doors and enter through.

[2760] They climb the palace steps to Bramimunde.

She runs to them. “Sire, I am destitute.

My lord is shamed. I am about to lose him.”

She falls at his feet. He uplifts her, and the two

[2826] Walk together to Marsille’s sickroom. AOI

201

[2765] As soon as King Marsille sees Baligant,

He tells two Spanish Saracen bystanders,

“Grab hold of me by my arms; prop up my back.”

One of his gloves he takes in his left hand.

“Sir, Saragossa and my Spanish lands,

[2770] With honors pertaining to them, I now grant

To you, my lord emir. I’ve lost my grasp,

Myself, my people—all the men I had.”

The emir says, “That only makes me sadder.

But I can’t stay to talk. King Charles won’t tarry

[2775] For me in Spain. And yet, despite all that,

I take the glove.” Weeping, he turns his back, AOI

Goes out the room, down steps, and out the palace,

Mounts and spurs his horse, and gallops back

To his knights, straight on until he leads their ranks,

[2780] Shouting orders to them as he gallops,

[2844] “Ride, pagans! Ride! They already fly toward France!” AOI

202

That morning, when the eastern sky breaks darkness,

King Charles awakens as his angel guardian,

Gabriel, marks a blessing on his forehead.

[2785] The king gets up, at last takes off his armor,

As do the knights and barons of his army.³³

Now they remount their horses and ride hard

And far along long roads both wide and narrow,

Back once again to view the harm and horrors

[2790] [2854] Left from the battle fought at Roncevals. AOI

203

When Charlemagne enters Roncevals and sees

The many dead, he cannot help but weep.

He tells his Frenchmen, “Lords, wait for me here.

I’m walking farther for a while to seek

[2795] My nephew. Once at Aix, at a high feast,

With barons boasting of their battle feats,

All Roland said was, if some foreign field

Were where he died, he would make sure to be

Farthest advanced of all his knights and Peers,

[2800] With his head turned to face the enemy,

And so die conquering.” With no more speech,

He walks a stone’s throw farther than his people

[2869] Up a green slope and underneath two trees.

204

The emperor, as soon as he arrives,

[2805] Looks for his nephew. On the fields he finds

Vermillion flowers that his knights’ blood dyed

And feels such pity, he cannot help but cry.

Charles walks beneath two trees, and there he spies

Grooves in three stones that Durendal has sliced,

[2810] Looks down, and on the green grass recognizes

His nephew. Wild with rage—that’s no surprise—

He leaps down, runs to where the body lies,

And lifts it in his arms. With a great sigh

[2880] Of anguish he faints beside his fallen knight.

205

[2815] The emperor recovers from his swoon.

Acelin the count, Neïme the duke,

The brothers Thierry and Geoffrey of Anjou

Guide him to shade, but his eyes don’t move

From his nephew. “Roland,” he says, “adieu.

[2820] God grant you mercy. Knighthood never knew

A knight to face great battles, fight, and conclude them

With victory—none ever like to you!

My honor is slipping. It cannot endure!”

[2891] Charles swoons again. What else can he do? AOI

206

[2825] From his deep swoon, Charlemagne recovers.

Four of his knights help to lift him up.

He looks down at his nephew, sees how comely

His body is. His flesh has lost its color.

His eyes turn inward, and the whites are muddied.

[2830] Charles loyally mourns aloud and kneels above him:

“Friend Roland, God lead you to a saint’s homecoming

To rest in gardens that are sweet and lush.

Your ride through Spain brought evil to your uncle.

No one is left to guard my honor’s luster.

[2835] No day that comes will ever bring me comfort.

My power fades and my bright reign is sullied.

No friend like you exists beneath the sun,

And none so valiant among my sons and cousins.”

He weeps and tears his hair out in thick clumps.

[2840] A hundred thousand Frenchmen grieve. Among them,

[2908] Not a one can keep his eyes from flooding. AOI

207

“I’m going back to France now, Roland, friend.

When I hold court in Laon, there will come men

From many foreign lands, and they will question,

[2845] ‘Where is the noble count, your mighty general?’

I’ll answer, ‘In a Spanish valley, dead.’

With grief and trouble I will hold my realm together.

[2915] Never will come a day without regret.

208

“Friend Roland, lovely youth, heroic captain,

[2850] People will come to me in Aix, my Chapel,

Asking for news, and I will have to answer,

‘Dead is my nephew, who won me lands and grandeur.’

At that my provinces will rebel: the Saxons,

Bulgarians, Romanians, and Magyars.

[2855] Apulians and Palermese will band

With upstart rebels in Africa and Calif.

Troubles will start, bringing me grief and anguish.

Who will command my men against all factions

Now he is dead, who once was our commander?

[2860] Lovely France, today you lie abandoned.

I do not want to live into such sadness.”

He tears at his white beard and with both hands

Tears hair from his white head. He fails to stand.

[2932] A hundred thousand horrified French collapse.

209

[2865] “God have mercy on you, dear friend Roland,

And may God’s Paradise receive your soul.

Whoever killed you left my kingdom homeless.

I feel such sorrow for my own dear nobles

Who died for me that death is all I hope for.

[2870] May Mary’s Son grant that I not behold

The Gates of Ciz before my soul has flown

And left my tired body to be lowered

Into the earth with my belovèd soldiers.”

The emperor tears at his white beard and moans.

[2875] [2944] “Ah,” says Duke Neïme, “he feels such woe!” AOI

210

Geoffrey of Anjou says, “Charlemagne,

Great Emperor, this grief should be contained.

Order a search for all our people slain

By Marsille’s regiments of Spain

[2880] And have them taken to a common grave.”

[2950] Charles answers, “Blow your bugle to proclaim it.” AOI

211

A bugle blast from Geoffrey of Anjou!

The French dismount. The king commands his troops

To find and bring the French the Spaniards slew.

[2885] They lay them in a common grave to view them.

Bishops and abbots give the dead their due.

Monks, tonsured priests, and canons sing the funeral,

Make signs of the cross, and extend absolution.

Incense and myrrh and aromatic fumes

[2890] Make sweet the spot where they will be entombed.

With ceremony they bury the brave youths,

[2961] Then leave them there. What else can they do? AOI

212

The emperor holds Roland back, and with him,

Oliver, and Turpin the archbishop.

[2895] Surgeons open their ribs in front of him,

Remove their hearts, and wrap them in soft silk,

Then place them in a small, white marble crypt.

They wash the three knights’ heads and trunks and limbs

Lovingly with wine and spiced elixirs

[2900] And wrap them carefully in soft deerskins.

The king tells Theobald and Gebuin,

Milon the count and Marquis Oton, “Bring

Three carts to carry these three heroes in.”

[2973] Over the three, they lay Galatan silk. AOI

213

[2905] The emperor longs for France and means to start.

Two messengers from Baligant’s vanguard

Come riding in, proclaiming, “Proud King Charles,

It would be wrong of you to flee this war.

Baligant’s army, riding at full charge,

[2910] Comes after you. Don’t run. You won’t get far.

His host from Araby is very large.

[2981] Now we will see how valorous you are.” AOI

214

The emperor tugs his beard as he thinks hard

About the carnage, Roland, and the rearguard.

[2915] He looks at his people with a fierce regard.

Loud and clear he shouts out the alarm:

[2986] “Run to your horses, barons of France! To arms!”³⁴ AOI

215

First to be armed is Emperor Charlemagne.

He puts his tunic on of bright chain mail.

[2920] His helmet is strapped. Joyeuse is at his waist.

Even against the sun its gleam won’t fade.

He hangs his Biterne shield from his neck and shakes

His lance by the handle, point high in the air,

Then mounts his Tencedor, the steed he gained

[2925] At the Marse Ford, the time he threw Malpalin

Of Nerbone out of the stirrups to a wet grave.

He spurs, lets loose the reins,

And as a hundred thousand of his soldiers gaze,

Forward to his army’s lead he races. AOI

[2930] [2998] “God and St. Peter at Rome!” shouts Charlemagne.

216

All around the valley’s fields and meadows,

One hundred thousand Frenchmen are assembled.

Of arms and gear they have a good selection,

Spirited steeds and finely crafted weapons.

[2935] Now they are mounted, eagerly expectant

And looking for a battle if one threatens.

They hang their colorful pennants from their helmets.

Charles sees how beautiful they look and beckons

To Jozeran of Provence, Neïme, and Antelme

[2940] Of Maience, and he says, “Look at them, friends!

These barons you can trust. It would be senseless

To be afraid as long as we have them.

Unless the Arabs turn, we’ll have our vengeance

For Roncevals and the killing of my nephew.”

[2945] [3013] “God grant we do!” the Duke Neïme says. AOI

217

Charles calls Rabél and Guinemán. “My lords,”

He tells the two of them, “Here are my orders:

Rabél, take Roland’s place; you, Oliver’s.

You carry Olifant; you, Roland’s sword.

[2950] With fifteen thousand French, you two ride forward.

Gebuin and Count Loranz will lead one more³⁵

French division of the same size as yours.”

Neïme and Jozeran count files, arrange, and sort them.

[3025] If they can find a way, they’ll have great warfare. AOI

218

[2955] The foremost two divisions, then, are French.

The third to form is the Bavarians,

Approximately twenty thousand men.

They will not let their battle line be bent.

Of all his knights at arms, Charles loves these best

[2960] Next to the French, who won him his possessions.

These fighters are so fierce, they must be led

[3034] By no one less than Ogier, Duke of Denmark. AOI

219

After the emperor has called up three,

He names a fourth division, which Neïme

[2965] Establishes of valiant cavaliers, German barons out of Germany—

Twenty thousand, the witnesses agree—

Armed to the teeth in brilliant battle gear.

They’d rather die than yield a contested field.

[2970] The Duke of Trace, Lord Herman, is their leader.

[3043] He’d die before he’d do a cowardly deed. AOI

220

Count Jozeran and Duke Neïme now form

A fifth division made up all of Normans—

Twenty thousand, according to French reports—

[2975] With lovely arms and swiftly running horses.

They’d rather die than leave the field of war.

For a good fight, there is no fiercer force.

Richard the Old will lead these Norman lords

[3051] And strike with his sharp lance as he rides before them. AOI

221

[2980] Brittany supplies the Sixth Division.

Thirty thousand Breton knights are in it,

All famous for their noble horsemanship.

With painted lances they hold their pennants lifted.

Oedun, the brave commander of the Sixth,

[2985] Calls Theobald of Reims to come to him,

With Marquis Oton and Count Nevelin.

[3059] “Lead my men,” he says; “that is the gift I give you.” AOI

222

Charlemagne has six divisions ready.

The Duke Neïme establishes the Seventh:

[2990] Twenty thousand barons from Auvergne,

And from Poitou there ride about as many.

They ride good horses and wield exquisite weapons.

Up on a little hill they move together.

With his right hand, King Charles gives them his blessing.

[2995] [3067] Their leaders: Jozeran and Godeselmes. AOI

223

Neïme now designates the Eighth Division.

One half of it is Flemish; one half, Frisian;

In all, some forty thousand fighting Christians.

They will not fail at holding their position.

[3000] The king declares, “They will perform their mission.”

Rembalt and Hamon of Galicia

[3074] Will lead the Eighth Division with distinction. AOI

224

Duke Neïme and Jozeran assign

Fifty thousand knights to Division Nine,

[3005] Half from Lorraine, the other twenty-five

From Burgundy. They’re ready, and they ride

With helmets strapped, their chain-mail tunics tied,

And their short-handled, sturdy spears held high.

Should the Arabians decide to strike,

[3010] They will strike back and give them fight for fight.

[3083] Duke Thierry of Argonne commands the Ninth. AOI

225

The Tenth Division is of men of France,

One hundred thousand of our greatest captains,

Bold, ferocious, vigorous, and handsome,

[3015] With hoary heads, white beards, and white moustaches.

They wear their chain-mail armor double wrapped,

Swords fashioned by skilled French and Spanish craftsmen.

Each decorated shield tells who the man is.

They mount their horses and they call for battle.

[3020] “Mountjoy!” they call. Charlemagne commands them.

Geoffrey of Anjou bears the Oriflamme,

Which was St. Peter’s, Romaine its name in Latin,

But now the Frenchmen, for their battle rally,

[3095] Call out, “Mountjoy!” when they see this standard. AOI

226

[3025] Down from his steed the emperor descends

And lies down prone upon the grassy meadow,

Looking east to where the sun ascends.

Deep from his heart he prays to God and says,

“True Father, today stand by me and defend me,

[3030] You Who rescued Jonah from the depths,

Pulling him forth from the great whale’s belly,

Who spared the repentant King of Nineveh,

Who rescued Daniel when the lions pressed

About him in the Babylonian den,

[3035] And the Three Children in the furnace—You saved them!—

Be with me Lord today, in love be present,

And in Your mercy grant that I avenge

The death of Roland, Roland, my dear nephew!”

He finishes his prayer, stands up again,

[3040] Makes the sign of the cross for God’s full blessing,

And mounts. Neïme and Jozeran attend him

And hold his stirrup. He grasps his shield and settles

His sharp sword in its sheath. He sits erect,

Handsome, hardy, confident, majestic,

[3045] With a bright face, generous and pleasant.

Well seated on his horse, he guides its steps.

The trumpets sound behind him and ahead,

But Olifant rings out above the rest.³⁶

[3120] Their minds on Roland, the Frenchmen’s eyes are wet.

227

[3050] The emperor rides skillfully and nobly.

Outside his tunic he lets his white beard flow.

For love of him, they too let their beards show,

One hundred thousand Frenchmen on the road.

They thread through hills and past tremendous boulders.

[3055] They edge high cliffs with fearsome depths below,

Ride down the mountain paths to rolling slopes,

As deep into the realm of Spain they go.

On a wide meadow they take a brief repose.

The scouts return to Baligant. “We’ve spoken,”

[3060] One Syrian says, “to Charles, the haughty foe.

His men are fierce and will not fail their lord.

Arm yourself. The time for battle’s close.”

Baligant says, “It’s time for deeds of glory.

[3136] Sound forth the trumpets! Let my pagans know!”

228

[3065] Throughout the army throbs the beat of drums

Accompanied by bugle blasts and trumpets.

Pagans dismount to don hauberks and doublets.

Nor does the emir linger here or slumber.

He dons chain mail with gold and saffron colors.

[3070] He cinches his sword to the left. Out of presumption,

Because he learned Charles calls his sword Joyeuse,

He calls his sword Precious, and the name has come

To be his standard and the cry they thunder

Riding into battle. He holds his shield and buckler,

[3075] With its gold hand-grip and crystal border, strung

Down from his collar by a strong silk muffler.

The Emir Baligant in his right fist clutches

The lance he calls Maltéd, which means bad trouble.

Its heavy handle is thicker than a bludgeon.

[3080] Another man would need a mule to lug it.

He heaves himself onto his horse. Marculus

Of Sea’s End holds his stirrup so it won’t budge.

His loins are broadly arched, his thighs like trunks.

His torso is immense, slender his stomach,

[3085] His shoulders wide. His face is bright and rugged.

His look is fierce. His curls are snowy clusters.

His flesh is fair as flowering fields in summer.

What valor he has shown through countless struggles!

O God, were he a Christian knight, how wonderful!

[3090] He spurs his horse’s flanks so they run bloody.

Straight to a gulch he rides, and the horse jumps

The fifty feet from one brink to the other.

The pagans shout, “He rescues all our countries!

Any knight of France who dares confront him,

[3095] Whether he wants or not, he will die suffering.

[3171] Oh, what a fool King Charles was not to run!” AOI

229

One look at the emir inspires awe.

His beard is white as flower-flooded lawns.

He’s wise and very learnèd in his law.

[3100] He’s proud and fearless in a war’s onslaught.

His son Malprámis is chivalrous and strong.

Like his forefathers he is tough and tall.

“Gallop!” he shouts. “Father, we mustn’t dawdle.

I’ll be amazed if we see Charles at all.”

[3105] “We will,” says Baligant; “he’s a great warrior.

His valor is the theme of epic songs,

But with his nephew Roland gone,

[3183] Charles cannot hold out against us long. AOI

230

“My son, Count Roland was valiant and renowned,

[3110] And Oliver, a brave and valiant count.

But they are killed, and the Twelve Peers struck down,

Whom King Charles doted on, who were so proud,

And twenty thousand more, French knighthood’s flower.

What’s left for Charles is knights of no account.

[3115] My messenger, the Syrian, announced

That Charlemagne is riding toward us now

With ten divisions more. The knight who sounds

The Olifant must be a man of prowess.

His battle-mate’s response is clear and loud.

[3120] They lead the First Division, fifteen thousand.

The emperor has named his youthful scouts.

As for the rest, expect them to fight proudly.”

“Father,” Malprámis answers him, “allow me

[3200] To strike first blow against King Charles’s rout.” AOI

231

[3125] “Malprámis, my dear son,” says Baligant,

I gladly grant the favor that you ask.

Unceasingly assault the men of France

With Torlus the Persian king at your right hand

And Dappledeath the King of Leutzistan.

[3130] If you bring low the Frenchmen’s arrogance,

I will bestow on you a stretch of land

From Marchis Valley up to Cheriant.”

Malprámis answers, “Sire, I give you thanks.”

He gallops beside him to accept the grant

[3135] Of lands King Flurit governed in the past.

(The lands turned out unlucky after that.

[3213] Malprámis never was invested as their master.)

232

The emir rides and reviews his regiments.

Behind him rides Malprámis the Immense.

[3140] Persian King Torlus and King Dappledeath

Establish the divisions: three times ten,

Comprising knights of wondrous skill and strength,

The least division, fifty thousand men.

The First Division: Butentrotiens.

[3145] Knights of Blos and Nuble form the Second.

The Third are Micenies, who have big heads.

All up their backs and shoulder blades and necks

[3223] They grow thick piggy bristles to protect them. AOI

The Fourth is formed by Browns and Slavs. The next

[3150] Are Sorz and Sorbiennes. And after them

The Sixth Division: Armenians and Deadmen.

People from Jericho make up the Seventh.

From Niger, the Eighth; from Gros, the Ninth assemble.

Fort Balida supplies Division Ten,

[3155] [3231] Made up of men who harbor bad intentions. AOI

The emir swears oaths that he believes effective:

“By our Mohammed’s power and his flesh,

King Charles is mad to ride in our direction.

There will be battle; unless his purpose bend,

[3160] [3236] He’ll never wear his golden crown again.

233

They order ten additional divisions.

The First are ugly Canaanites, who issue

From Fuit Valley along their ugly rivers.

The Second are the Turks, the Third the Persians,

[3165] The Fourth the Pinceneis, noses out like pincers.

The Sultras and Aversians form the Fifth.

The Sixth Division: Ormalies and Iggies.

The Seventh is the men from Samuel’s lineage,

The Eighth from Bruise, the Ninth from Clavers City,

[3170] The Tenth from Occian, the dry and windy,

Whose desert people do not do God’s bidding,

The worst people you ever heard of living.

All of these Occians have iron-hard skins.

Helmets and hauberks were never made to fit them.

[3175] [3251] In battle they are treacherous and vicious. AOI

234

Ten more divisions are ordered by the emir:

The First Division, Giants of Malprese;

The Second, Huns; the Third, from Hungary;

The Fourth Division from Along-Baldise;

[3180] The Fifth from far-off Valley-Wet-With-Tears;

The Sixth from Maruse. The men of Leu will be

The Seventh with the Astrimoniyees.

The Eighth: Argoilles; the Ninth are Clarbonese;

The Tenth Division is the Slingshot-Beards,

[3185] Recruited from a God-forsaken people.

Chronicles of the French lists ten times three

Divisions that made the mighty host complete.

The trumpets sound out loud and clear

[3264] As pagans ride to war like noble peers. AOI

235

[3190] A mighty man is Baligant the Great.

In front of him his dragon staff parades.

Mohammed and Tervagant also lead the way,

And vile Apollo’s image is displayed.

Beside him ride the warriors of Canaan.

[3195] With a loud voice, they promise and proclaim,

“Anyone who wants our gods to save him

Must pray and suffer penitence and pain.”

The pagans bow their chins and heads and lay

Their shining helmets on the ground and pray.

[3200] The French say, “Die, you bastard pagans!

May foul confusion rain on you today!

God, protect our Emperor Charlemagne.

[3278] The battle will be won in our God’s name.” AOI

236

The Emir Baligant, who’s very wise,

[3205] Summons his son and two kings to his side.

“Ride out in front,” he tells them. “Lead and guide

All of my divisions, except that I

Will reserve three, the ones I most rely on:

The Turks, the Ormalies, the Malprese Giants.

[3210] I’ll lead the Occians of the hard hides

To joust with Charlemagne and the French knights,

And if the emperor and I collide,

I’ll cut his head off. Let him realize

[3290] His end will be unalterably decided.” AOI

237

[3215] The armies are huge and the divisions wondrous.

Between them lies no ridge or ditch, no clump

Of trees, no tree, no thicket to hide under.

On level land they look straight at each other.

Baligant cries, “Men of my pagan countries,

[3220] Ride to the battle! Throw yourselves to the struggle!”

Ambors of Holiferne extends the ensign upward.

“Precious!” they cry, and clang their swords and bucklers.

The Frenchmen shout, “Down with you to destruction.”

Again and again, “Mountjoy, Mountjoy!” they thunder.

[3225] The Emperor of France shouts, “Sound the trumpets!”

The trumpets sound, and Olifant rings above them.

The pagans say, “King Charles’s force looks good.

[3304] We’ll have our fight—and with it grief and bloodshed.” AOI

238

The field they face each other on is wide.

[3230] The gems in their helmets gleam, and the gold shines.

Their shields and saffron cuirasses are bright,

As are the pennants and their spears of iron.

Trumpets ring out. Their music floats the skies.

Olifant’s flourishes lift even higher.

[3235] The Emir brings his brother up beside him,

Canábeus, a dreadful king and tyrant

Of Sevre Valley and the adjacent heights.

He points toward the divisions Charles aligned.

“Look,” the emir says, “look there at the pride

[3240] Of famous France, how fiercely the emperor rides.

He’s back there riding with his bearded knights.

They loose their beards outside their armor, white

As snow that lies on surfaces of ice.

Their swords and spears are sharp, and they can smite.

[3245] Today we’re in for a long and vicious fight

As never has been known before our time.”

Baligant gallops farther than a spear’s flight

In front of all his troops. “Pagans,” he cries,

“Follow me! I’ll show you where to ride.”

[3250] He grips his lance, lifts it, shakes it on high,

[3328] Then down at Charles he points the tip of iron. AOI

239

When Charlemagne looks back at the emir,

He sees the dragon and the ensign, and he sees

Such a large swarm of knights from Araby,

[3255] It seems to occupy the battlefield

Except the plot of ground with his ten legions.

The emperor cries for all his men to hear:

“Loyal French barons, you pride of chivalry!

Think of your many hard-fought victories.

[3260] There are the pagan armies, cowardly, mean.

I wouldn’t give a cent for their beliefs.

Their knights may be big. What’s that to you or me?

Come ride with me, whoever wants to be

My knight!” He spurs his steed,

[3265] Tencedor, and puts him through four leaps.

“Ours is a valiant king,” the French agree.

[3344] “Ride, noble King! We will not fail you. Lead!”

240

The air stays clear; the sunlight, gay and dazzling;

The armies beautiful, with grand combatants.

[3270] Nearer they ride; the advanced divisions clash.

Up front, Rabél and the Count Guinemán

Let loose their bridles and let their steeds run fast

And spur them on. So do the men of France,

[3351] Aiming to hit their marks with their sharp lances. AOI

241

[3275] Leading the French, Rabél’s a noble count.

He rakes gold spurs and urges on his mount

And strikes Torlus, who wears the Persian crown.

The lance bursts through the shield and byrnie, gouges

Into the body, then thrusts the body out

[3280] Of the saddle onto the brambly ground.

“God be our help and aid,” the Frenchmen shout.

[3359] “Charles has the right. We will not let him down!” AOI

242

Count Guinemán spears Dappledeath. He splits

And shatters his shield with all its flowered trim

[3285] And bursts the byrnie. The lance and ensign ribbons

Penetrate his chest. Into a ditch he flings

The body dead, laugh or weep as you will.³⁷

The French applaud the deed and praise his skill.

“Strike without holding back, you barons. Quick!

[3290] Charles upholds right against the pagan lineage.

[3368] We’re here to do God’s justice with our king.” AOI

243

Malprámis sits upon a pure white stallion

And rides wherever the French are thickest packed,

Everywhere dealing great blows with his lance.

[3295] One after another he flings them from their saddles.

Out in the front rides Emir Baligant.

“Barons,” he shouts above the noise, “my barons!

I’ve housed and nurtured you as my own vassals.

Look at my son, riding in search of Charles.

[3300] He rides against the French to challenge and smash them.

I ask no better vassal than Malprámis.

Ride to his help! Strike with your sturdy lances.”

Hearing these words, the pagans ride and rally

And strike cruel blows. Carnage covers the landscape,

[3305] And on it lasts, the fierce and bloody battle,

[3382] No battle fiercer, never before or after. AOI

244

The hosts are huge; the fighting vast and deadly.

All of the divisions have crashed together.

The pagans battle furiously and well.

[3310] God knows how many sturdy lances spent

And their wood splintered, how many shields in shreds.

Lance ends and chain-mail links litter the meadow.

Grass, once delicately green, runs red.

The emir calls and encourages his men:

[3315] “Strike, barons. Strike the Christians dead!”

Back and forth, the combatants get no letup.

Never were such deeds done, and never again.

[3395] They fight straight into night, and still no end. AOI

245

The emir calls and encourages his forces.

[3320] “Fight, pagans! That’s what you’ve come here for.

I’ll give you girls and women who are gorgeous.

I’ll give you fiefs and honors, lands, and rich rewards.”

“Our duty—fight and win!” reply his lords.

They break so many lances, they are forced

[3325] At last to unsheathe a hundred thousand swords.

And so the carnage continues to get worse.

[3404] Whoever is there knows what a thing is war. AOI

246

King Charles keeps calling to the French. “My brave

Lord barons! I trust and love you!” he exclaims.

[3330] “You’ve served me well—so many battles waged,

So many kings cast down and kingdoms gained.

I know how well you’ve served me. I’ll repay you:

Myself, my moneys, and my rich domains.

Avenge your sons, your brothers, and your heirs

[3335] Who died at Roncevals the other day!

You have the right—you know it!—against the pagans.”

“King Charles, you speak the truth!” the Frenchmen say.

With one voice twenty thousand knights proclaim

Their loyalty to Charles and pledge their faith.

[3340] Not for distress or death—they will not fail him.

They shake their lances, draw their swords, and race

Once again into the bloody fray.

[3420] On and on this great and marvelous battle rages. AOI

247

Everywhere in the battle, Baligant’s son,

[3345] Malprámis, gallops, meting out destruction

On the hard-pressed French. Neïme sees all he’s done.

He angrily spurs his horse, valiantly plunges

His spear through the shield’s crest and the double

Chain-mail wrapping of the hauberk, thrusts

[3350] His yellow colors through the body, dumps

[3428] Malprámis dead with seven thousand others.

248

Baligant’s brother, Canábeus of Sevre,

Has seen the Duke Neïme transfix his nephew.

He spurs his horse ahead, and his fist clenches

[3355] His crystal-handled sword. The sword descends

On Duke Neïme and slices through his helmet

And five tough straps of metal-plated leather.

Half of the helmet peels away. The rest

Doesn’t protect the duke worth half a cent.

[3360] The blade swings down and cuts along his head,

Sheering onto the ground a chunk of flesh.

It was a hard blow, and the duke’s knocked senseless

And would fall from his horse, without God’s help; instead,

He grasps his horse and holds onto its neck,

[3365] But if the pagan turns and comes again,

Neïme, the noble vassal, will be dead.

[3443] But Charlemagne is riding to the rescue. AOI

249

Neïme the duke is hurt and nearly slain.

Canábeus is riding back, with his sword raised.

[3370] Charles shouts, “You bastard, you’ve made a big mistake!”

He aims his lance, bravely attacks the pagan,

And bursts the shield against the hauberk chains

And into his enemy’s chest. The pagan sways

[3450] And dies. His horse runs riderless across the plain.

250

[3375] King Charles looks back and is heart-sorrowed

To see how Duke Neïme has fallen forward

Wounded onto his horse’s neck, blood pouring

Bright red onto the grass. Now he implores:

“Neïme, come ride beside me through the warfare.

[3380] The dog who wounded you is dead. I gored

Him with my spear.” “That I believe, my lord,”

Says Duke Neïme, “and I can promise surely

That if I live, I’ll do great service for you.”

Loyally, lovingly, they ride their horses

[3385] Together, with twenty thousand Frenchmen more,

[3462] All of them spearing and hacking with their swords. AOI

251

About the battlefield gallops Baligant.

With his long lance, he strikes Count Guinemán.

He hits the count’s white shield, hammers it back

[3390] Against his heart, bursts the hauberk clasps,

Scatters the links, and splits his chest in half.

Baligant knocks him dead out of the saddle.

Next he slaughters Gebuin and Loranz,

And Richard the Old, chief of the Norman ranks.

[3395] Pagans cry, “Precious! Ours is a noble standard!

[3472] Strike, barons! Our victory is granted.” AOI

252

You should have seen the knights of Araby,

The Occians, Argoilles, and Bascalese,

Slaughtering skillfully with swords and spears.

[3400] Nor do the French incline to leave the field.

Back and forth the armies kill. By evening

The battle’s just as fierce, the deaths increase.

[3480] Before nightfall, there will be more to grieve. AOI

253

They hit each other, Arabians and Christians.

[3405] Lance handles break from their grips and their spears shiver.

Anyone who saw their shields so twisted

And heard white hauberks snap and burst their linkage

And sword blades ring on helmets—whoever witnessed

Knights falling from their saddles, flung from their stirrups,

[3410] Men moaning, men dying in the dirt,

Would call to mind what battle suffering is,

Because this battleground is heaped with misery.

The emir keeps calling Apollo to assist him,

Mohammed, too, and Tervagant: “Gods, listen!

[3415] I’ve been your servant and have done your bidding

[3493] And have erected you in golden images—” AOI

His dear Grimálfin rides up to deliver

Bad news: “My lord,” he tells him, “everything

Is going against you: your son, Malprámis, killed;

[3420] Canábeus, your brother, slain with him.

Two Frenchmen fought them well and to the finish.

One was Charlemagne in my opinion,

A powerful warrior, lordly and prodigious,

With a long beard as white as April lilies.”

[3425] The emir bows his head; dark grows his visage,

His grief so great he almost dies from it.

[3507] He summons Jangle Oversea, his wizard.

254

“Jangle, come speak with me,” the emir says.

“You always have been valiant and perceptive.

[3430] You’ve always counseled well, and I’ve attended.

What now with the Arabians and Frenchmen?

Will we at last win victory over them?”

“Lord Baligant,” says Jangle, “you’re a dead man.

Your gods will guarantee you no protection.

[3435] King Charlemagne is valiant, strong, relentless.

His barons are the fiercest fighters ever.

Call up your Arabs, Giants, Turks, and Enfruns.

[3519] Whatever happens, there’s no time for rest.”

255

The emir yanks his hauberk, thrusts beard out,

[3440] Where it shines whiter than the hawthorn flower.

Whatever the cost, he will not hide his countenance.

He puts his clarion trumpet to his mouth

And blows. The pagans hear his call resound,

Take heart and rally throughout the battleground.

[3445] Occians bray and whinny. Argoilles growl

And snarl and bark and bare their teeth and howl.

They throw themselves madly where the Frenchmen crowd,

Break the French ranks, and cut the French knights down.

[3530] With one attack they slaughter seven thousand.

256

[3450] Cowardliness is something Ogier hates.

There is no better fighter than the Dane.

Seeing the French divisions fold and break,

He shouts to Thierry of Argonne, berates

Count Jozeran and Geoffrey, the guide-on bearer,

[3455] And even reprimands King Charlemagne:

“You see how many of our men are slain!

May God rip from your head the crown you wear

If you don’t strike back and avenge your shame!”

There’s not a knight, who, hearing Ogier, fails

[3460] To spur his horse full speed, let loose his reins,

[3542] And thrust and strike wherever he meets pagans.

257

King Charles strikes bravely, and his forces rally. AOI

Neïme and Ogier bravely thrust and slash,

And Geoffrey of Anjou, with Charles’s banner.

[3465] Ogier the Duke of Denmark, very valiant,

Lets loose the reins, at full speed spurs his stallion,

And hits Ambors, who bears the pagan dragon.

Down falls Ambors, dead upon the grass.

The dragon comes down too, and the emir’s standard.

[3470] Baligant sees his guide-on fall, and the damage

Done to the fallen emblem of Mohammed,

And at the sight almost begins to grasp

That Charles has right on his side, and he hasn’t.

Hundreds of pagans scatter from the battle.

[3475] “Attack them, my Frenchmen!” cries the King of France.

“For God’s sake, ride to my aid, you barons!”

“Shame that you even have to ask!” they answer.

[3559] “Attack them! Shame on whoever lags!” AOI

258

The daylight darkens. They fight on into evening.

[3480] With swords the French and pagans slash and beat

And cut each other. How valiantly their leaders

Lead the attacks! They don’t forget to cheer

Their battle standards. “Precious!” shouts the emir.

“Mountjoy!” Charles shouts his standard. Each hears

[3485] And knows the other’s voice, clear and unique

Above the brawl. They charge. Midfield, they meet

And break their lances through each other’s shields,

Bursting the hauberks, though the broken spears

Don’t pierce the flesh. The saddle cinches ease,

[3490] The saddles slip, and the two kings careen

Onto the hard ground. Up they leap,

Face each other, draw swords from their sheaths.

Nothing can hold them back or come between them.

[3578] Nothing but death will end this enmity. AOI

259

[3495] King Charles of lovely France is brave and strong.

Nothing scares the emir, and no one daunts him.

Up they leap. Their naked swords are drawn.

They beat and slice each other’s shields. They maul

The central hides and wood shield-frames, unclaw

[3500] The nails that bind the shields, and the shields fall.

They strike and scatter rivets, rawhide, cloths.

Naked to naked the two big men assault

Whatever chains the other still has on

And hack at helmets, flinging sparks aloft.

[3505] This single combat has to be prolonged

[3588] Till one of the two acknowledge he is wrong. AOI

260

“Charles,” says the emir, “you should consider something:

Repent how you’ve wronged me. You killed my son.

Unlawfully you overran my country.

[3510] Swear fealty to me, and you shall govern

For me, from here to where the sun comes up.”

King Charles replies, “That would be vile. I must

Not give a pagan fealty or trust.

No, you receive the law God gave to us,

[3515] Christianity, and forever have my love.

Believe in God. Serve Him Who reigns above.”

Baligant says, “This vow of yours is rubbish.”

[3601] Swords out again, they rush against each other. AOI

261

The Grand Emir has courage, will, and strength.

[3520] He strikes King Charles upon his burnished helmet,

Cuts it, and splits it ringing from his head.

Down through his hair the emir’s blade descends

And sheers a palm-sized portion from the flesh

So that the bone remains exposed. Charles bends,

[3525] Staggers, almost buckles at the legs.

God does not want him dead or overwhelmed.

Down the Angel Gabriel descends.

[3611] “What are you doing, mighty King?” he says.

262

Hearing the angel’s urgings near at hand,

[3530] Charles’s fears and hesitations vanish.

He gets his iron determination back

And strikes the emir with the sword of France.

The helmet, spraying shining gemstones, cracks.

The sword breaks through the skull, and the brains splash.

[3535] Through the emir’s face to his white beard it slashes.

The emir’s dead. No cure can bring him back.

“Mountjoy!” cries Charles and shouts to God his thanks.

At that, Neïme brings Tencedor, his stallion.

Charlemagne grabs the reins and swings into the saddle.

[3540] The pagans turn. God wills them to break ranks.

[3624] Now everything the French have wished is granted.

263

The pagans flee, as God wills them to do.

The French knights and the emperor pursue.

“My lords, avenge the sorrows you’ve been through!

[3545] I saw you weeping in this morning’s gloom.

Now do your will, as your heart tells you to.”

The French reply, “My lord, we’ll do our duty.”

Then each one does his best, hacking and hewing.

[3632] Some pagans get away, but very few.

264

[3550] It’s hot. Dust clouds kick up from the road’s surface.

The pagans flee. The French pursue and scourge them

All the way to Saragossa. Early,

Queen Bramimunde has climbed up to her turret,

Surrounded by canons and men of law and learning

[3555] In the false law, which God in Heaven spurns—

All unordained doctors and untonsured clerks.

And when she sees the Arabians dispersed,

She cries aloud, “Mohammed, save your servants!

Noble King, our hosts are overturned.

[3560] The emir’s army failed. The emir perished.”

When he hears this, the king goes pale; he buries

His face against the wall, his eyes tear-blurred.

At last Marsille gives up his body, burdened

[3647] With sins, to earth; his soul, to evil spirits. AOI

265

[3565] The pagans are killed, though some few do escape.

The battle is won; the victor, Charlemagne.

He’s beaten through the Saragossa gates.

Confident that no defense remains,

He takes the city, marches in, and stays

[3570] To spend the night, for this is his domain.

The emperor is fierce, white beard displayed!

The queen surrenders all her royal places,

The fifty lesser towers and the ten greater.

[3657] A person does good work when God gives aid!

266

[3575] The day is ending, and the night begins.

The moon is bright. The starry sky is brilliant.

King Charles holds Saragossa in his fist.

A thousand Frenchmen search throughout the city

For synagogues and mosques and enter in them

[3580] Carrying hammers, wedges, swords, and picks

And break down all the idols and false images

And cleanse the place of sorcery and wizardry.

King Charles serves God and wants to do His wishes.

To waters sanctified by Charles’s bishops,

[3585] They lead the pagans, who emerge as Christians.

This is the emperor’s will. Whoever resists it,

He has him bound and burned, enslaved, or killed.

A hundred thousand do receive baptism.

The queen rejects the emperor’s religion.

[3590] To lovely France she will be led, imprisoned,

[3674] Where Charles hopes kindness will convert and win her.

267

Night falls and fades. Here comes the light of dawn.

Charles occupies the towers and installs

A thousand knights to guard the town and walls

[3595] And govern Saragossa while he’s gone.

King Charlemagne and all his men set off,

Bringing the queen, whom he still holds in thrall

(Although he doesn’t mean to do her wrong).

They leave the city, confident and jaunty,

[3600] Ride hard and steadily, and pass Nerbone

And reach Bordeaux, the city of high crosses.

With Spanish gold he fills the Olifant

And sets it down upon St. Sevrin’s altar,

Where pilgrims go to look on it with awe.

[3605] They ride beside the river of Gironde

And see the tall ships docked there in the water.

At last as far as Blaye King Charles has brought

Roland his nephew, Oliver his staunch,

Noble companion, and Turpin, wise and stalwart.

[3610] In a white sarcophagus he leaves these warriors,

Who lie there still inside their marble vault.

The French commend their souls to God, in all

The names of God. Charlemagne rides across

Valleys and hills. He will not sleep or pause

[3615] Until he reaches Aix, and there he halts.

The king dismounts and enters his high hall.

From there he summons judges and great lawyers:

Bavarians, Saxons, Lorrainians he calls,

Frisians, Poitovans, Germans, Burgundians, also

[3620] Normans and Bretons, the wisest men of law,

To meet at Aix-the-Chapel to consult,

[3704] For now begins the trial of Ganelon.

268

King Charles has come from Spain. Now he is home

In Aix, his seat of judgment and abode.

[3625] He enters his palace, rests upon his throne.

A beautiful lady, Alda, now approaches.

“Where,” she asks him, “is your captain, Roland,

Who promised me that I would be his own

And he be mine?” Charles the emperor groans.

[3630] He strokes his white beard and his eyes overflow.

“Dear child,” he answers her, “you seek to know

About a dead man. Now instead of Roland,

You shall have Louis, my own son, most noble.³⁸

No better substitute I could bestow.

[3635] He shall possess my kingdoms and my coastlands.”

“This,” she answers, “is a strange proposal.”

May God and all His angels not postpone

My time of death now Roland’s life is over.”

She loses color, falls dead upon the stones

[3640] At Charles’s feet. May God preserve her soul!

[3722] All the knights of France weep to behold her.

269

Alda the beautiful from life has gone.

The king thinks she has fainted and he calls

With pity to her. Tears stain his cheeks with salt.

[3645] He lifts her up in both his arms and draws

Her head against his shoulder, where it falls.

At last he understands that he has lost her.

He calls four countesses and has her brought

Into a convent, where with prayers and psalms

[3650] They stay awake and watch until the dawn.

He has her buried underneath the altar

[3733] With honors for his nephew’s fair betrothed. AOI

270

King Charles is back in Aix, where he has taken

Ganelon the felon. They keep the slave,

[3655] His hands with rawhide bound, his body chained

To a central post inside the city square

And just outside the royal palace gates.

They beat him with gambrils;³⁹ they batter him with staves.

It’s all the good he’s earned. There he awaits

[3660] [3741] In pain the day when he will be arraigned.

271

The chronicle is there for you to read,

How Charlemagne called men from far and near,

Wise men of law, to Aix, where they convened

On St. Sylvester’s Day, it is believed,

[3665] Or some high feast. There they began to hear

Witnesses, arguments, details, and briefs

Concerning Ganelon, who did the treason.

[3749] The emperor has him hauled before the judgment seat. AOI

272

“My lord barons, judge for me my claim

[3670] Against this Ganelon,” says Charlemagne,

“He was my vassal when I was in Spain.

He had my twenty thousand Frenchmen slain,

With them, my nephew—I’ll never see his face—,

And Oliver, the courteous and brave,

[3675] And the Twelve Peers, all for the gold he craved.”

“To hell with excuses!” Ganelon exclaims.

“I am a felon if I refuse to say:

Roland cheated me in gold and gain,

So I had Roland killed, by my arrangements.

[3680] That much I did, but there was no betrayal!”

[3761] The French reply, “We will deliberate.”

273

Before the king, Count Ganelon is standing,

His features beautiful, his body handsome.

If he were loyal, you would think, “What valor!”

[3685] He sees his judges and the men of France,

And thirty relatives, all here to back him.

He shouts, “For God’s sake, listen to me, barons!

I was there in Spain with Charles’s army.

Loyally, lovingly I served my master.

[3690] His nephew hated me and nursed his rancor.

He judged I take a message to the Spaniards

And King Marsille, then die, sad and abandoned,

But I survived them all, by my own tactics.

I said I’d make them pay: their captain

[3695] Roland, and Oliver, all their companions.

Charles heard me tell them. So did all his barons.

Vengeance there was. Betrayal never happened.”

[3779] “We will deliberate,” the Frenchmen answer.

274

Ganelon watches. His great trial is beginning.

[3700] Here to support him are thirty relatives.

To one of them, the other cousins listen;

He’s Pinabel of Castle Soricinia,

Thoughtful, well spoken, reasonable, convincing,

[3785] Valorous in war, strong, and skillful. AOI

[3705] Ganelon speaks and pleads to him: “Dear kinsman,

Save me from this trial. My life’s at risk.”

Pinabel says, “We’ll get you out of this.

No Frenchman living would vote for you to swing.

And if some one of Charles’s judges did,

[3710] He’d have to answer to my contradiction:

With lance and sword, we’d joust before the king.”

[3792] Count Ganelon in thanks kneels down to him.

275

Saxon judges, Bavarians, Germans, Prussians,

Poitovans, Normans, French, and those Charles summoned

[3715] From scholarly Auvergne all sit in judgment.

Out of respect for Pinabel, they hush

Or if they speak, whisper to each other:

“Better to let it go and not cause trouble.”

“Best drop the charge.” “Let’s beg the king, this once,

[3720] To pardon Ganelon’s offense and suffer

Him to renew his loyalty and love.”

“Roland is dead. The king could not recover

His nephew now for all his money.” “None

But a fool fights Pinabel.” “What’s done is done.”

[3725] Of Ganelon’s trial judges, there’s not one

[3806] Condemns him—none but Thierry, Geoffrey’s brother. AOI

276

Back to the king return the justice-barons

And say to Charlemagne, “My lord, we ask you:

Pardon Count Ganelon this time and grant him

[3730] Again to serve you loyally and gladly.

Sire, let him live: he is a gentleman.

There’s no return from death, and we can pass

No judgment that will bring your nephew back.”

[3814] The emperor says, “You’re all a pack of rascals!” AOI

277

[3735] When Charlemagne sees the judges all have failed him,

His brow clouds over and his face goes gray.

Distractedly he calls them wretched cravens.

One knight stands up before the royal chair,

Duke Geoffrey of Anjou’s young brother, Thierry.

[3740] He stands before the court, slender and straight.

His hair is black; swarthy is his face.

He isn’t short; nor is his stature great.

He speaks politely to King Charlemagne.

“My lord and king,” he says, “do not despair.

[3745] I’ve served you often; for my forefathers’ sake

I will uphold the justice of your case:

If Roland wronged Ganelon, Roland remained

Your vassal still, serving within your safety.

Ganelon is a felon; he betrayed you.

[3750] He broke the vows a vassal freely makes.

Therefore, I judge he hang. Let the dogs prey

Upon his body.⁴⁰ A felon he became

When he did felony. If some retainer

Of Ganelon deny my rightful claim,

[3755] I will unsheathe this sword, and with this blade

Guarantee the justice of my statement.”

[3837] “Thierry has spoken well,” the French exclaim.

278

Pinabel stands before the emperor,

Gigantic, strong, brave, agile, and resourceful.

[3760] Those whom he strikes do not awake next morning.

He says to the king, “My lord, this trial is yours.

Order there not be so much noise in court.

This Thierry made his judgment, and he swore it,

But it is false. I will belie it with my sword.

[3765] Here is my deerskin glove.” “Give me,” Charles orders,

“The men who stake their lives as guarantors.”

Thirty kinsmen of Ganelon step forward.

“I take them,” says the king. Till combat mortal

[3849] Decides their fate, the king will keep them quartered. AOI

279

[3770] When Thierry hears his judgment has been challenged,

He gives the glove from his right hand to Charles,

Who takes and holds it up as Thierry’s warrant.

Charles has four benches set on the green sward

For Pinabel and Thierry. These benches mark

[3775] The jousting zone. The people there remark

How true to code and form these measures are.

The jousters listen as Ogier of Denmark

[3857] Proclaims the rules, then call for their steeds and arms.

280

Now that the trial by combat is decreed, AOI

[3780] The two combatants confess their sins and kneel

For blessings and absolution. Each receives

Holy Communion during mass, and each

Bequeaths large holdings to the Church. They greet

King Charlemagne and put spurs on their feet,

[3785] Put hauberks on of lightly woven steel,

And clamp steel helmets on. For now they keep

Their swords cinched, and their golden pommels gleam.

Down from their necks hang richly quartered shields.

In their right fists they grasp their deadly spears.

[3790] Now they are mounted on their spirited steeds.

One hundred thousand Frenchmen weep. They see

Roland in Thierry and cannot hold their tears.

[3872] Only God knows what the end of this will be.

281

Above Aix Chapel, a meadow, long and wide,

[3795] Hosts the two barons, who are judged to fight.

Both of them are heroic, valiant knights.

On fiery swift horses they mount and ride,

Digging in spurs and letting go the bridles,

Faster against each other till they strike

[3800] And shatter each other’s shield. The lances drive

Into the hauberks, and the chain mail flies.

The horses’ cinches slip, and the saddles slide.

[3882] A hundred thousand men watch them and cry.

282

The two men fall to earth when their steeds stumble.

[3805] Up to their feet both the barons jump.

Pinabel is nimble, quick, and tough.

Without their horses, they rush against each other.

With gold-encrusted swords the two knights bludgeon

Each other hard on the helmet, while a hundred

[3810] Thousand Frenchmen grieve to see the bloodshed.

[3891] “O, God,” says Charlemagne, “give us the judgment.”

283

“Thierry,” entreats Count Pinabel, “submit.

I offer you all the money you could wish.

I’ll be your man in faith. But to the king

[3815] Go first and ask for Ganelon’s forgiveness.”

“No, I will not. That’s bad advice you give,”

Says Thierry. “I’d be a felon if I did.

[3898] God will decide who has the right in this.” AOI

284

Thierry says, “You’re valiant, Pinabel,

[3820] Tall, well-proportioned, powerful, respected.

In all of France your valor isn’t questioned.

As for this mortal combat, let it rest.

I’ll speak to Charles, and you will have his blessing.

But Ganelon—I’ll serve him such a sentence

[3825] All France will talk of it and long remember.”

“No,” says Pinabel, “May God prevent it!

I will uphold my people, not surrender

To any man alive, and I will never

Let it be said that I did not defend them.”

[3830] Again they begin to strike each other’s helmets,

Cutting off gold and gem-starred ornaments,

Sending up sparks from steel on steel to heaven.

Such close-in fighting, nothing can sever them.

[3914] Their meeting now can only end in death. AOI

285

[3835] Sir Pinabel is powerful and solid.

He swings his sword. It crashes through the top

Of Thierry’s Provence helm. Sparks sharp and hot

From steel on steel set fire to little plots

Of dry field grass. Deflected past the forehead,

[3840] The point cuts Thierry’s right cheekbone and chops

The hauberk open and cuts along the body

Down to the stomach. Thierry doesn’t drop.

[3923] He stands and still is living, saved by God! AOI

286

Thierry realizes his face is ripped

[3845] And feels blood running down his face and chin

Into the grass. He lifts his sword and hits

Pinabel’s helmet, splits the noseguard, sinks it

Into Pinabel’s skull till the brains spill.

Thierry twists the blade inside and kicks

[3850] Pinabel’s body free. The fight is finished.

The Frenchmen shout, “God has accomplished this!

It’s right and just that Ganelon should swing

[3933] And with him swing the men who stood by him!”⁴¹ AOI

287

When Thierry’s victory concludes the quarrel,

[3855] The emperor comes down to the jousting yard

And with him, Duke Neïme and three more barons,

Geoffrey of Anjou, Ogier of Denmark,

William of Blaye. Tenderly King Charles

Lifts Thierry up. With his own furs of marten

[3860] He cleanses Thierry’s face. These he discards

And puts on others. Gently Thierry’s armor

Comes off. On an Arabian mule they cart him

To the Aix square joyfully applauding.

[3946] And now the killing of the others starts.

288

[3865] Charles calls his counts and dukes and asks advice:

“What shall I do with those I keep confined?

They pledged themselves for Ganelon at trial.

They pledged their lives that Pinabel would triumph!”

“Not one of them should live!” the Frenchmen cry.

[3870] He tells his marshal Basbrown, “Waste no time.

From a high gallows, hang Ganelon’s allies.

By this white beard and every hair that’s white,

You’re a dead man if even one survives.”

“Then what else can I do?” Basbrown replies.

[3875] A hundred guards compel the thirty knights

Up to the gallows, where they hang them high.

[3959] A traitor takes his own and others’ lives. AOI

289

Bavarian judges, German, Poitovan,

Breton, and Norman judges, too, regather;

[3880] And more than any, the ones who are from France

Judge Ganelon should die in wondrous anguish.

Out on the battlefield, they tie four stallions

To Ganelon, one at each foot and hand.

These steeds are proud and powerful and fast.

[3885] Four soldiers goad them on, and the steeds stampede

Toward where a creek cuts through the level land.

Ganelon breathes his last, most horrid gasps.

His joints and ligaments expand.

His bones are broken, and his sinews snap.

[3890] His watery blood makes streaks across the grass.

Thus like a felon, to a felon’s death they drag him.

[3974] He who betrays has nothing right to brag of.

290

The emperor’s revenge is consummated.

He tells his bishops from his French domains,

[3895] And from Bavaria, and from the German states,

“I have a noble captive in my chambers.

She’s heard so many sermons, lessons, prayers,

She longs for faith in God and Christian grace.

Baptize this lady so that God may claim her.”

[3900] “She must have godmothers,” the bishops say,

“Who must be beautiful and pious ladies.”

The springs are fresh and clean in the Aix square.

There bishops do baptize the Queen of Spain.

Juliana is her Christian name.

[3905] [3987] Christian she is, in knowledge and in faith.

291

The Emperor Charles’s justice is administered.

He feels relief from the great rage that gripped him.

He has led Bramimunde to her baptism.

All day until the dark he has been busy.

[3910] He goes to bed beneath his vaulted windows.

God sends the Angel Gabriel to visit.

“Charles!” he says, “summon your divisions!

Make a forced march to the land of Bir.

Bring help to Vivien, the King of Imphe.

[3915] A horde of pagans has besieged his city.

Christians cry out and beg for your assistance!”

Charles does not want to go. “God,” says the king,

“How tired I am. How weary my life is.”

He weeps and tugs his white beard with his fist.

[3920] [4002] Here’s where the Song runs out. Turolde is finished.⁴²

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1. Italicized bracketed numbers at the end of each laisse, embedded in the text in this ebook, indicate where the equivalent line can be found in the original French. Also, within the notes, bracketed numbers indicate line numbers in the original French. For longer discussions of editorial or translation decisions, see the Notes following the poem.

2. The slander that Muslims were pagans and that they worshiped anyone other than the one God continued in Christendom throughout the period of the Crusades.

3. Bláncandrin is expressing a certain contempt for Charlemagne, implying that some of his forces were mercenaries, which, according to the feudal arrangements of Charlemagne’s empire, they were not.

4. See Notes on Editorial and Translation Decisions following the translation.

5. Jenkins, in a footnote, reports that “wholesale conversion by the sword is not historically true of Charlemagne” (p. 13). Later, however, it was common for Crusaders to carry out such wholesale conversion or simply wholesale slaughter of the populations of the towns they took. See Amin Maalouf, Les Croisades vues par las Arabes (Paris: Latès, 1983).

6. See Notes on Editorial and Translation Decisions.

7. This is the first of the AOIs that do not occur in the usual position at the end of a laisse, and it begins a temporary shift from that pattern; only one of the four AOIs that follow occurs in the expected end-laisse position. The sudden “misplacement” of four out of five AOIs may result from scribal carelessness, but it does stress a new element: the necessity of disaster, beginning with this part of the council “that ended wrong” (177). From the moment when Roland laughs (punctuated by that one end-of-the-laisse AOI, line 299), necessity will govern the action: Ganelon must go to Saragossa, and Roland and his companions must die.

8. See Notes on Editorial and Translation Decisions.

9. Ganelon does not make it clear who the “he” is: whether Roland or Charlemagne himself will lay siege to Saragossa.

10. With these embellishments (lines 466–70), Ganelon predicts some of his own fall into disgrace. See 1795–98.

11. For extra efficacy, the hilts of valuable swords were sometimes inlaid with religious relics. See lines 2303–7 and 2452–55 for the relics in Roland’s and Charlemagne’s swords.

12. The shortness of laisse 46 stresses the seriousness of the judgment that the author expresses in this line.

13. For the problems surrounding the strange and wonderful contradictions of laisses 59 and 60, see Notes on Editorial and Translation Decisions.

14. See Notes on Editorial and Translation Decisions.

15. The twelve leaders in laisse 64 do not precisely coincide with the Twelve Peers listed in laisse 176. Of the four leaders who are not among the Twelve Peers, Archbishop Turpin was probably too prominent to go unlisted, and Walter de la Humme, even though he is not one of the Twelve, is dramatically important to this laisse for his eagerness to stand by Roland on the dangerous mission.

16. It is not clear in the manuscript whether Walter and his men fight King Almaris before or after they come down from the heights. The poet does not include this scene in his account of the battle when it comes.

17. Bédier, Jenkins, and Calin assume that “tere certaine” [856] is a proper noun and a place name, but they are uncertain where it is. The poet, however, is probably referring to the advantages of speed and secrecy that the land gives to the Spanish Saracens. Much of the ground they are traveling is certaine, or known to them.

18. Málprimis Brigant has the honor of being first to mention the fatal battlefield. It will be mentioned once per laisse through the next seven laisses.

19. See Glossary and Index for Mountjoy.

20. The French is, “Si vunt ferir, que fereient il el?” [1185], literally, “They are going to strike. What else would they do?” a line nicely balanced in sound by the f and r consonance and in meaning by the two possible interpretations: the men are brave, and there’s nothing else they will do; the men are trapped, and there’s nothing else they can do.

21. See Notes on Editorial and Translation Decisions.

22. See Notes on Editorial and Translation Decisions.

23. This judgment at the “hearing” will take place in laisse 288.

24. The Holy Innocents were the babies slaughtered by Herod in his attempt to kill the baby Jesus. See Matthew 2:16–18.

25. See Notes on Editorial and Translation Decisions.

26. The author’s sudden use of the past tense to describe Grandonies indicates that the answer to the question posed at the end of the previous laisse is obvious.

27. See Notes on Editorial and Translation Decisions.

28. For this one line in the O manuscript, the V⁴ manuscript has two lines, which could be translated, “In this assault, the pagans will find out / The names of Almace and Durendal,” Almace being Turpin’s sword. Jenkins, in his edition, substitutes the two lines from V⁴ for the one line in O, thus portraying Roland as more generous than competitive near the end of his life.

29. Listen to the lovely chiasmus in the original line: “Perdut avum noz seignurs e noz pers” [2148].

30. Note that Roland’s commitment to stick by Archbishop Turpin prevents him from defending himself by attacking the throwers.

31. To abandon either his sword or his horn, even while dying, would be shameful.

32. Like the translation, the original (“Jamais n’ert tel en France l’asolue”) [2311] does not make clear whether Roland is referring to his sword or himself.

33. The armor will be carried behind the main army in wagons.

34. See Notes on Editorial and Translation Decisions.

35. See Notes on Editorial and Translation Decisions.

36. Jenkins questions whether the author “has forgotten that the Olifant was badly cracked at line 2259” (p. 218). But the three sentences of lines [3118–20] run so faultlessly together to complete the long laisse that they sound perfectly true, and Roland’s spirit is so alive to his fellow combatants that they do indeed hear his horn as they ride to battle.

37. As in the Battle of Roncevals, the particularities of the “pagan” deaths are very like the deaths of the French, but the audience reactions were probably different: sorrow and chagrin for a French knight lanced through and through and thrust onto the ground; joy and triumph and even laughter for the same death meted out to a “pagan.” The “laugh or weep as you will” (“ki qu’en plurt u kin riet,” 3364) may be the narrator’s comic (or half-comic) rebuke of the predictable laughter of some in the audience.

38. In terms of feudal obligation, the king can offer Alda no better substitute for Roland than his son, but in the context of Louis’ reputation for worthlessness in other twelfth-century epics, the offer is ludicrous.

39. A gambril [jamel. 3739], Jenkins tells us, is “a crooked stick upon which carcasses are hung” (p. 335).

40. A half line is missing here in the O manuscript, so we really do not know what humiliation Thierry recommends for Ganelon’s body.

41. The author cannot have failed to notice the contrast between the reluctance even to accuse Ganelon when Pinabel was alive and the clamor for mass and sudden executions after Pinabel has died.

42. The Old French is one of the most puzzling end-lines of literature: “Ci falt la geste que Turoldus declinet,” which could mean “Here ends the geste which Turolde composes,” “Here ends the geste which Turolde is writing down,” “Here fails the geste because Turolde is declining,” or a variety of meanings close to any of these three. By geste could be meant the action, the chronicle that may have been the author’s source, or (as in this translation) the epic poem we have just finished reading, The Song of Roland. It would be convenient to call Turolde the author of La Chanson de Roland, but we know nothing about him, and we cannot tell whether he is an oral performer who composed the poem, an oral performer who received the poem from another performer and recited it for the scribe who wrote the Oxford manuscript, or the scribe himself. If he was the scribe, we do not know whether he is the author or simply the copyist, and if the copyist, whether from an oral performance or from another manuscript. The Latinization of the name, with the -us ending, makes it slightly more likely that Turolde was a scribe.