The Song of Roland Part 3

x.x.xV

Then Sarrazins implored him so, the chiefs, On the faldstoel Marsillies took his seat.

"Greatly you harm our cause," says the alcaliph: "When on this Frank your vengeance you would wreak; Rather you should listen to hear him speak."

"Sire," Guenes says, "to suffer I am meek.

I will not fail, for all the gold G.o.d keeps, Nay, should this land its treasure pile in heaps, But I will tell, so long as I be free, What Charlemagne, that Royal Majesty, Bids me inform his mortal enemy."

Guenes had on a cloke of sable skin, And over it a veil Alexandrin; These he throws down, they're held by Blancandrin; But not his sword, he'll not leave hold of it, In his right hand he grasps the golden hilt.

The pagans say. "A n.o.ble baron, this."

AOI.

x.x.xVI

Before the King's face Guenes drawing near Says to him "Sire, wherefore this rage and fear?

Seeing you are, by Charles, of Franks the chief, Bidden to hold the Christians' right belief.

One half of Spain he'll render as your fief The rest Rollanz, his nephew, shall receive, Proud parcener in him you'll have indeed.

If you will not to Charles this tribute cede, To you he'll come, and Sarraguce besiege; Take you by force, and bind you hands and feet, Bear you outright ev'n unto Aix his seat.

You will not then on palfrey nor on steed, Jennet nor mule, come cantering in your speed; Flung you will be on a vile sumpter-beast; Tried there and judged, your head you will not keep.

Our Emperour has sent you here this brief."

He's given it into the pagan's nief.

x.x.xVII

Now Marsilies, is turn'ed white with ire, He breaks the seal and casts the wax aside, Looks in the brief, sees what the King did write: "Charles commands, who holds all France by might, I bear in mind his bitter grief and ire; 'Tis of Basan and 's brother Basilye, Whose heads I took on th' hill by Haltilye.

If I would save my body now alive, I must despatch my uncle the alcalyph, Charles will not love me ever otherwise."

After, there speaks his son to Marsilye, Says to the King: "In madness spoke this wight.

So wrong he was, to spare him were not right; Leave him to me, I will that wrong requite."

When Guenes hears, he draws his sword outright, Against the trunk he stands, beneath that pine.

x.x.xVIII

The King is gone into that orchard then; With him he takes the best among his men; And Blancandrins there shews his snowy hair, And Jursalet, was the King's son and heir, And the alcaliph, his uncle and his friend.

Says Blancandrins: "Summon the Frank again, In our service his faith to me he's pledged."

Then says the King: "So let him now be fetched."

He's taken Guenes by his right finger-ends, And through the orchard straight to the King they wend.

Of treason there make lawless parliament.

AOI.

x.x.xIX

"Fair Master Guenes," says then King Marsilie, "I did you now a little trickery, Making to strike, I shewed my great fury.

These sable skins take as amends from me, Five hundred pounds would not their worth redeem.

To-morrow night the gift shall ready be."

Guene answers him: "I'll not refuse it, me.

May G.o.d be pleased to shew you His mercy."

AOI.

XL

Then says Marsile "Guenes, the truth to ken, Minded I am to love you very well.

Of Charlemagne I wish to hear you tell, He's very old, his time is nearly spent, Two hundred years he's lived now, as 'tis said.

Through many lands his armies he has led, So many blows his buckled s.h.i.+eld has shed, And so rich kings he's brought to beg their bread; What time from war will he draw back instead?"

And answers Guenes: "Not so was Charles bred.

There is no man that sees and knows him well But will proclaim the Emperour's hardihead.

Praise him as best I may, when all is said, Remain untold, honour and goodness yet.

His great valour how can it be counted?

Him with such grace hath G.o.d illumined, Better to die than leave his banneret."

XLI

The pagan says: "You make me marvel sore At Charlemagne, who is so old and h.o.a.r; Two hundred years, they say, he's lived and more.

So many lands he's led his armies o'er, So many blows from spears and lances borne, And so rich kings brought down to beg and sorn, When will time come that he draws back from war?"

"Never," says Guenes, "so long as lives his nephew; No such va.s.sal goes neath the dome of heaven; And proof also is Oliver his henchman; The dozen peers, whom Charl'es holds so precious, These are his guards, with other thousands twenty.

Charles is secure, he holds no man in terror."

AOI.

XLII

Says Sarrazin: "My wonder yet is grand At Charlemagne, who h.o.a.ry is and blanched.

Two hundred years and more, I understand, He has gone forth and conquered many a land, Such blows hath borne from many a trenchant lance, Vanquished and slain of kings so rich a band, When will time come that he from war draws back?"

"Never," says Guene, "so long as lives Rollanz, From hence to the East there is no such va.s.sal; And proof also, Oliver his comrade; The dozen peers he cherishes at hand, These are his guard, with twenty thousand Franks.

Charles is secure, he fears no living man."

AOI.

XLIII

"Fair Master Guenes," says Marsilies the King, "Such men are mine, fairer than tongue can sing, Of knights I can four hundred thousand bring So I may fight with Franks and with their King."

Answers him Guenes: "Not on this journeying Save of pagans a great loss suffering.

Leave you the fools, wise counsel following; To the Emperour such wealth of treasure give That every Frank at once is marvelling.

For twenty men that you shall now send in To France the Douce he will repair, that King; In the rereward will follow after him Both his nephew, count Rollant, as I think, And Oliver, that courteous paladin; Dead are the counts, believe me if you will.

Charles will behold his great pride peris.h.i.+ng, For battle then he'll have no more the skill.

AOI.

XLIV

Fair Master Guene," says then King Marsilie, "Shew the device, how Rollant slain may be."

Answers him Guenes: "That will I soon make clear The King will cross by the good pa.s.s of Size, A guard he'll set behind him, in the rear; His nephew there, count Rollant, that rich peer, And Oliver, in whom he well believes; Twenty thousand Franks in their company Five score thousand pagans upon them lead, Franks unawares in battle you shall meet, Bruised and bled white the race of Franks shall be; I do not say, but yours shall also bleed.

Battle again deliver, and with speed.

So, first or last, from Rollant you'll be freed.

You will have wrought a high chivalrous deed, Nor all your life know war again, but peace.

AOI.

XLV

"Could one achieve that Rollant's life was lost, Charle's right arm were from his body torn; Though there remained his marvellous great host, He'ld not again a.s.semble in such force; Terra Major would languish in repose."

Marsile has heard, he's kissed him on the throat; Next he begins to undo his treasure-store.

AOI.

XLVI