Rolland Doomed to Death, LXIX–LXXVIII

Carle the great King, no more restrains his tears: One hundred thousand Franks great sympathy Give him, with strangest fear for Count Rolland. Vile Ganelon, the wretch, this treason wrought! He, from the Pagan King received rich gifts Of gold and silver, silk and ciclatons, Lions and camels, horses, mules. Behold, King Marsile summons all his Counts from Spain, His Viscounts, Dukes and Almazours; with these The Emirs, and the sons of noble Counts; Four hundred thousand gathered in three days, In Sarraguce are beaten all the drums; Mohammed's image to the loftiest tower Is raised on high.—No Pagan but adores And prays before him.—They then madly ride Throughout the land, o'er mountain and o'er vale. At last they see the gonfalons of France; It is the rear-guard of the twelve compeers: Nor will they fail to give them battle now. Aoi.

Hastes to the front the nephew of Marsile, Goading the mule that bears him, with a staff. Says to his uncle, gayly laughing loud: "Fair King, till now I served you well; for you Endured hard pain and grief.—The only fee I ask is this:—To strike Rolland! I swear To give him death with my good trenchant sword, And if his help Mohammed will bestow, On me, forever shall all Spain be free, From the defiles of Aspre to Durestant. Carle then will yield,—the Franks, surrender all; No more in all your life will you have war." The King Marsile bestows on him the glove. Aoi.

The nephew of Marsile holds in his grasp The glove, and to the King with haughty pride Speaks:—"Fair Sire King, your gift I dearly prize; Choose you for me eleven of your Knights, And I will go and combat the twelve Peers." The first response was that of Falsaun: He was the brother of the King Marsile.— "Fair nephew, we shall go, both you and I; In battle side by side, we shall engage. The rear of Carle's great host is doomed to die!" Aoi.

King Corsalis stands on the other side; He comes from Barbary; a soul of guile. Still speaks he there not unlike vassal true Who would not for the gold of heav'n be base: "If there I find Rolland, we meet in fight. I am the third; now choose ye out the fourth." See you the spurring Malprimis de Brigal, Faster on foot than runs the fastest steed? Before Marsile in a loud voice he cries: "I shall my body take to Ronceval; If there I find Rolland, by me he dies." Aoi.

An Emir now is there, from Balaguer. Of handsome form, with proud and cheerful face, When on his steed he vaults, well doth he show With what great pride his armor's mail is borne. For truest vassalage he is renowned; Were he but Christian, 'twere a baron true. Before Marsile he stands and loudly cries: "My body I will take to Ronceval; If there I face Rolland his doom is sure, Eke Olivier and the twelve peers, all die. The Franks shall perish in despair and shame. Carl'magne is old and dotes. O'erwhelmed, at last He will give up this waging war, and Spain Forever shall be kept beneath our sway." The King Marsile on him bestows great thanks. Aoi.

Then from the Moorish land an Almazour Steps forth. All Spain can show no greater wretch. Before Marsile he makes a boastful vaunt: "To Ronceval will I my people lead— Full twenty thousand men with lance and shield. If I Rolland find there, I pledge his death; No after-day shall dawn but Carle shall weep." Aoi.

From elsewhere comes Turgis de Turteluse. He is a count, and o'er this city wields His sway; hate unto Christians has he vowed, And stands with all the rest before Marsile. He thus addressed the king: "Ne'er be dismayed! More worth Mohammed than Saint Pierre of Rome; But serve him well, the honor of the field [Is ours]. I'll meet Rolland at Ronceval Where none can guard him. Mark this sword of mine; Its blade, so good and long, in desperate fight Will cross with Durendal; and you will hear Which of the two shall win the victory. Abandoned unto us the French must die. The old King Carle will have both grief and shame, And never more on earth will wear a crown." Aoi.

Comes up besides Escremiz de Valterne, A Saracen, and of that country lord. Before Marsile among the throng he cries: "To Ronceval I go, to crush the proud; Nor shall Rolland, if there, bear off his head, Nor Olivier, chief of the other knights; The twelve peers, all are doomed to perish there. The French shall die, and France become a waste. Of such good vassals Carle will see the loss." Aoi.

And came with Esturgant, Estramaris, His friend; both wretches, traitors, villains are.... Thus spake Marsile: "Come forth, Seigneurs; ye both To Ronceval's defiles shall go and help Me there to lead my host." Both answer: "King, At your command, Rolland and Olivier Will we assault. No power can the twelve peers From death defend against our trenchant swords Whose blades shall redden with hot blood. The French Are doomed to death and Carle to doleful life. France, the Great Land, shall through our arms become Your realm. Come, King, to see this verified; The Emperor's self a captive we'll present." Aoi.

There hastens Margariz de Sibilie Who holds the country toward the distant sea. His beauty such, all ladies are his friends; Not one looks on him but to smile, nor can Restrain her laughing joy. No Pagan else More glorious deeds of chivalry achieved; Pressed through the crowd, he cries above the rest Unto the king: "Be not dismayed, for I To Ronceval will go to kill Rolland, And Olivier shall not escape alive; To martyrdom the twelve Peers are condemned. See my good sword with gold-embossed hilt, Given me by the Amiralz of Prime; I pledge my faith it will be dyed in blood. The French shall perish, France be steeped in shame, And Carle the old, with beard all blossom-white, Shall see no day uncursed by grief and wrath. Before one year we shall have conquered France And slept beneath the roofs of Saint-Denis." At this, the Pagan king bowed low his head. Aoi.