Books: Heroes Every Child Should Know

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But before they departed Hagen went to bid farewell to Queen
Kriemhild. Said she, "I have good comfort in my heart to think how
valiant a husband I have, and how zealous he is to help his friends,
for I have loved my kinsmen always, nor ever wished them ill." "Tell
me, dear lady," said Hagen, "what service I can do to your husband,
for there is no one whom I love better than him." The Queen made
answer, "I have no fear that my lord will fall in battle by any
man's sword, save only that he is too ready to follow even to
rashness his own warlike spirit." "Dear lady," said Hagen, "if there
is any danger which you hold in special fear, tell me that I may
defend him against it." Then Kriemhild, in the simpleness of her
heart, told him the secret. "In years gone by," said she, "my
husband slew a dragon among the mountains, and when he had slain the
monster, he bathed himself in its blood. So mighty was the charm,
that thenceforth no steel had power to wound him. And yet, for all
this, I am ever in fear lest by some mischance a weapon should
pierce him. Hearken now, my cousin, for you are of my kindred,
hearken, and see how I put my trust in your honour. While Siegfried
washed his limbs in the blood of the dragon, there fell a leaf from
a linden tree between his shoulders. There and there only can steel
harm him." "'Tis easy," said the false Hagen, "for me to defend so
small a spot. Only do you sew a little token on his cloak, that I
may the better know the spot that most needs protection when we
stand together in the fight." "I will do so," said the Queen; "I
will sew a little cross with threads of silk on his cloak, and you
will guard him when he fights in the throng of his foes." "That will
I do, dear lady," said the traitor.

Hagen went straightway to King Gunther and said, "I have learnt that
which I needed to know; put off this march; let us go on a hunt. So
that which we would do will be easier done." "I will order that,"
answered the King.

Siegfried, before he set out for the hunting, bade farewell to his
wife: "God grant," said he, "that we may soon meet happily again;
meanwhile be merry among your kinsfolk here." But Kriemhild thought
of how she had discovered the secret to Hagen, and was sore afraid,
yet dared not tell the truth. Only she said to her husband, "I pray
you to leave this hunting. Only this night past I had an evil dream.
I saw two wild boars pursuing you over the heath, and the flowers
were red as with blood. Greatly I fear some treason, my Siegfried."
"Nay," said he, "there is not one in Rhineland here that bears me
ill-will. Whom have I wronged?" "I know not," answered the Queen,
"but yet my heart bodes evil. For I had yet another dream. I seemed
to see two mountains fall with a terrible noise on your head. If you
go, you will break my heart." But he laughed at her fears, and
kissed her, and so departed.

Then Siegfried went on the hunting, and Gunther and Hagen went with
him, and a company of hunters and hounds. When they came to the
forest Siegfried said, "Now who shall begin the hunting?" Hagen made
answer, "Let us divide into two companies ere we begin, and each
shall beat the coverts as he will; so shall we see who is the more
skilful in the chase." "I need no pack," said Siegfried; "give me
one well-trained hound that can track the game through the coverts.
That will suffice for me." So a lime-hound was given to him. All
that the good hound started did Siegfried slay; no beast could
outrun him or escape him. A wild boar first he slew, and next to the
boar a lion; he shot an arrow through the beast from side to side.
After the lion he slew a buffalo and four elks, and a great store of
game besides, so that the huntsmen said, "Leave us something in our
woods, Sir Siegfried."

King Gunther bade blow the horn for breakfast. When Siegfried's
huntsman heard the blast he said: "Our hunting-time is over; we must
back to our comrades." So they went with all speed to the trysting-
place.

The whole company sat down to their meal. There was plenty of every
kind, but wine was wanting. "How is this?" said Siegfried: "the
kitchen is plentiful; but where is the wine?" Said Gunther the King,
"'Tis Hagen's fault, who makes us all go dry." "True, Sir King,"
said Hagen, "my fault it is. But I know of a runnel, cold and clear,
that is hard by. Let us go thither and quench our thirst." Then
Siegfried rose from his place, for his thirst was sore, and would
have sought the place. Said Hagen, when he saw him rise, "I have
heard say that there is no man in all the land so fleet of foot as
Siegfried. Will he deign to let us see his speed?" "With all my
heart," cried the hero. "Let us race from hence to the runnel."
"'Tis agreed," said Hagen the traitor. "Furthermore," said
Siegfried, "I will carry all the equipment that I bare in the
chase." So Gunther and Hagen stripped them to their shirts, but
Siegfried carried sword and spear, all his hunting-gear, and yet was
far before the two at the runnel.

Yet, such was his courtesy, that he would not drink before the King
had quenched his thirst. He was ill repaid, I trow, for his grace.
For when the King had drunk, as Siegfried knelt plunging his head
into the stream, Sir Hagen took his spear and smote him on the
little crosslet mark that was worked on his cloak between his
shoulders. And when he had struck the blow he fled in mortal fear.
When Siegfried felt that he was wounded, he rose with a great bound
from his knees and sought for his weapons. But these the false Hagen
had taken and laid far away. Only the shield was left. This he took
in his hand and hurled at Hagen with such might that it felled the
traitor to the ground, and was itself broken to pieces. If the hero
had but had his good sword Balmung in his hand, the murderer had not
escaped with his life that day.

Then all the Rhineland warriors gathered about him. Among them was
King Gunther, making pretence to lament. To him said Siegfried,
"Little it profits to bewail the man whose murder you have plotted.
Did I not save you from shame and defeat? Is this the recompense
that you pay? And yet even of you I would ask one favour. Have some
kindness for my wife. She is your sister; if you have any knightly
faith and honour remaining, guard her well." Then there came upon
him the anguish of death. Yet one more word he spake, "Be sure that
in slaying me you have slain yourselves." And when he had so spoken
he died.

Then they laid his body on a shield and carried it back, having
agreed among themselves to tell this tale, that Sir Siegfried having
chosen to hunt by himself was slain by robbers in the wood.

CHAPTER IX

ROLAND

The trumpets sounded and the army went on its way to France. The
next day King Charles called his lords together. "You see," said he,
"these narrow passes. Whom shall I place to command the rearguard?
Choose you a man yourselves." Said Ganelon, "Whom should we choose
but my son-in-law, Count Roland? You have no man in your host so
valiant. Of a truth he will be the salvation of France." The King
said when he heard these words, "What ails you, Ganelon? You look
like to one possessed."

When Count Roland knew what was proposed concerning him, he spake
out as a true knight should speak "I am right thankful to you, my
father-in-law, that you have caused me to be put in this place. Of a
truth the King of France shall lose nothing by my means, neither
charger, nor mule, nor packhorse, nor beast of burden."

Then Roland turned to the King and said, "Give me twenty thousand
only, so they be men of valour, and I will keep the passes in all
safety. So long as I shall live, you need fear no man."

Then Roland mounted his horse. With him were Oliver his comrade, and
Otho and Berenger, and Gerard of Roussillon, an aged warrior, and
others, men of renown. And Turpin the Archbishop cried, "By my head,
I will go also." So they chose twenty thousand warriors with whom to
keep the passes.

Meanwhile King Charles had entered the valley of Roncesvalles. High
were the mountains on either side of the way, and the valleys were
gloomy and dark. But when the army had passed through the valley,
they saw the fair land of Gascony, and as they saw it they thought
of their homes and their wives and daughters. There was not one of
them but wept for very tenderness of heart. But of all that company
there was none sadder than the King himself, when he thought how he
had left his nephew Count Roland behind him in the passes of Spain.

And now the Saracen King Marsilas began to gather his army. He laid
a strict command on all his nobles and chiefs that they should bring
with them to Saragossa as many men as they could gather together.
And when they were come to the city, it being the third day from the
issuing of the King's command, they saluted the great image of
Mahomet, the false prophet, that stood on the topmost tower. This
done they went forth from the city gates. They made all haste,
marching across the mountains and valleys of Spain till they came in
sight of the standard of France, where Roland and Oliver and the
Twelve Peers were ranged in battle array.

The Saracen champions donned their coats of mail, of double
substance most of them, and they set upon their heads helmets of
Saragossa of well tempered metal, and they girded themselves with
swords of Vienna. Fair were their shields to view, their lances were
from Valentia, their standards were of white, blue, and red. Their
mules they left with the servants, and, mounting their chargers, so
moved forwards. Fair was the day and bright the sun, as their armour
flashed in the light and the drums were beaten so loudly that the
Frenchmen heard the sound.

Said Oliver to Roland, "Comrade, methinks we shall soon do battle
with the Saracens." "God grant it," answered Roland. "'Tis our duty
to hold the place for the King, and we will do it, come what may. As
for me, I will not set an ill example."

Oliver climbed to the top of a hill, and saw from thence the whole
army of the heathen. He cried to Roland his companion, "I see the
flashing of arms. We men of France shall have no small trouble
therefrom. This is the doing of Ganelon the traitor."

"Be silent," answered Roland, "till you shall know; say no more
about him."

Oliver looked again from the hilltop, and saw how the Saracens came
on. So many there were that he could not count their battalions. He
descended to the plain with all speed, and came to the array of the
French, and said, "I have seen more heathen than man ever yet saw
together upon the earth. There are a hundred thousand at the least.
We shall have such a battle with them as has never before been
fought. My brethren of France, quit you like men, be strong; stand
firm that you be not conquered." And all the army shouted with one
voice, "Cursed be he that shall fly."

Then Oliver turned to Roland, and said, "Sound your horn; my friend,
Charles will hear it, and will return." "I were a fool," answered
Roland, "so to do. Not so; but I will deal these heathen some mighty
blows with Durendal my sword. They have been ill-advised to venture
into these passes. I swear that they are condemned to death, one and
all."

After a while, Oliver said again, "Friend Roland sound your horn of
ivory. Then will the King returns and bring his army with him, to
our help." But Roland answered again, "I will not do dishonour to my
kinsmen, or to the fair land of France. I have my sword; that shall
suffice for me. These evil-minded heathen are gathered together
against us to their own hurt. Surely not one of them shall escape
from death." "As for me," said Oliver, "I see not where the
dishonour would be. I saw the valleys and the mountains covered with
the great multitude of Saracens. Theirs is, in truth, a mighty
array, and we are but few." "So much the better," answered Roland.
"It makes my courage grow. 'Tis better to die than to be disgraced.
And remember, the harder our blows the more the King will love us."

Roland was brave, but Oliver was wise. "Consider," he said,
"comrade. These enemies are over-near to us, and the King over-far.
Were he here, we should not be in danger; but there are some here
to-day who will never fight in another battle."

Then Turpin the Archbishop struck spurs into his horse, and rode to
a hilltop. Then he turned to the men of France, and spake: "Lords of
France, King Charles has left us here; our King he is, and it is our
duty to die for him. To-day our Christian Faith is in peril: do ye
fight for it. Fight ye must; be sure of that, for there under your
eyes are the Saracens. Confess, therefore, your sins, and pray to
God that He have mercy upon you. And now for your soul's health I
will give you all absolution. If you die, you will be God's martyrs,
every one of you, and your places are ready for you in His
Paradise."

Thereupon the men of France dismounted, and knelt upon the ground,
and the Archbishop blessed them in God's name. "But look," said he,
"I set you a penance--smite these pagans." Then the men of France
rose to their feet. They had received absolution, and were set free
from all their sins, and the Archbishop had blessed them in the name
of God. After this they mounted their swift steeds, and clad
themselves in armour, and made themselves ready for the battle.

Said Roland to Oliver, "Brother, you know that it is Ganelon who has
betrayed us. Good store he has had of gold and silver as a reward;
'tis the King Marsilas that has made merchandise of us, but verily
it is with our swords that he shall be paid." So saying, he rode on
to the pass, mounted on his good steed Veillantif. His spear he held
with the point to the sky; a white flag it bore with fringes of gold
which fell down to his hands. A stalwart man was he, and his
countenance was fair and smiling. Behind him followed Oliver, his
friend; and the men of France pointed to him, saying, "See our
champion!" Pride was in his eye when he looked towards the Saracens;
but to the men of France his regard was all sweetness and humility.
Full courteously he spake to them: "Ride not so fast, my lords," he
said; "verily these heathen are come hither, seeking martyrdom. 'Tis
a fair spoil that we shall gather from them to-day. Never has King
of France gained any so rich." And as he spake, the two hosts came
together.

Said Oliver, "You did not deem it fit, my lord, to sound your horn.
Therefore you lack the help which the King would have sent. Not his
the blame, for he knows nothing of what has chanced. But do you,
lords of France, charge as fiercely as you may, and yield not one
whit to the enemy. Think upon these two things only--how to deal a
straight blow and to take it. And let us not forget King Charles's
cry of battle." Then all the men of France with one voice cried out,
"Mountjoy!" He that heard them so cry had never doubted that they
were men of valour. Proud was their array as they rode on to battle,
spurring their horses that they might speed the more. And the
Saracens, on their part, came forward with a good heart. Thus did
the Frenchmen and the heathen meet in the shock of battle.

Full many of the heathen warriors fell that day. Not one of the
Twelve Peers of France but slew his man. But of all none bare
himself so valiantly as Roland. Many a blow did he deal to the enemy
with his mighty spear, and when the spear was shivered in his hand,
fifteen warriors having fallen before it, then he seized his good
sword Durendal, and smote man after man to the ground. Red was he
with the blood of his enemies, red was his hauberk, red his arms,
red his shoulders, aye, and the neck of his horse. Not one of the
Twelve lingered in the rear, or was slow to strike, but Count Roland
was the bravest of the brave. "Well done, Sons of France!" cried
Turpin the Archbishop, when he saw them lay on in such sort.

Next to Roland for valour and hardihood came Oliver, his companion.
Many a heathen warrior did he slay, till at last his spear was
shivered in his hand. "What are you doing, comrade?" cried Roland,
when he was aware of the mishap. "A man wants no staff in such a
battle as this. 'Tis the steel and nothing else that he must have.
Where is your sword Hautclere, with its hilt of gold and its pommel
of crystal?" "On my word," said Oliver, "I have not had time to draw
it; I was so busy with striking." But as he spake he drew the good
sword from its scabbard, and smote a heathen knight, Justin of the
Iron Valley. A mighty blow it was, cleaving the man in twain down to
his saddle--aye, and the saddle itself with its adorning of gold and
jewels, and the very backbone also of the steed whereon he rode, so
that horse and man fell dead together on the plains. "Well done!"
cried Roland; "you are a true brother of mine. 'Tis such strokes as
this that make the King love us."

Nevertheless, for all the valour of Roland and his fellows the
battle went hard with the men of France. Many lances were shivered,
many flags torn, and many gallant youths cut off in their prime.
Never more would they see mother and wife. It was an ill deed that
the traitor Ganelon wrought when he sold his fellows to King
Marsilas!

And now there befell a new trouble. King Almaris, with a great host
of heathen, coming by an unknown way, fell upon the rear of the host
where there was another pass. Fiercely did the noble Walter that
kept the same charge the newcomers, but they overpowered him and his
followers. He was wounded with four several lances, and four times
did he swoon, so that at the last he was constrained to leave the
field of battle, that he might call the Count Roland to his aid. But
small was the aid which Roland could give him or any one. Valiantly
he held up the battle, and with him Oliver, and Turpin the
Archbishop, and others also; but the lines of the men of France were
broken, and their armour thrust through, and then: spears shivered,
and their flags trodden in the dust. For all this they made such
slaughter among the heathen that King Almaris, who led the armies of
the enemy, scarcely could win back his way to his own people,
wounded in four places and sorely spent. A right good warrior was
he; had he but been a Christian but few had matched him in battle.

Count Roland saw how grievously his people had suffered and spake
thus to Oliver his comrade: "Dear comrade, you see how many brave
men lie dead upon the ground. Well may we mourn for fair France,
widowed as she is of so many valiant champions. But why is our King
not here? O Oliver, my brother, what shall we do to send him tidings
of our state?" "I know not," answered Oliver. "Only this I know--
that death is to be chosen rather than dishonour."

After a while Roland said again, "I shall blow my horn; King Charles
will hear it, where he has encamped beyond the passes, and he and
his host will come back." "That would be ill done," answered Oliver,
"and shame both you and your race. When I gave you this counsel you
would have none of it. Now I like it not. 'Tis not for a brave man
to sound the horn and cry for help now that we are in such case."
"The battle is too hard for us," said Roland again, "and I shall
sound my horn, that the King may hear." And Oliver answered again,
"When I gave you this counsel, you scorned it. Now I myself like it
not. 'Tis true that had the King been here, we had not suffered this
loss. But the blame is not his. 'Tis your folly, Count Roland, that
has done to death all these men of France. But for that we should
have conquered in this battle, and have taken and slain King
Marsilas. But now we can do nothing for France and the King. We can
but die. Woe is me for our country, aye, and for our friendship,
which will come to a grievous end this day."

The Archbishop perceived that the two friends were at variance, and
spurred his horse till he came where they stood. "Listen to me," he
said, "Sir Roland and Sir Oliver. I implore you not to fall out with
each other in this fashion. We, sons of France, that are in this
place, are of a truth condemned to death, neither will the sounding
of your horn save us, for the King is far away, and cannot come in
time. Nevertheless, I hold it to be well that you should sound it.
When the King and his army shall come, they will find us dead--that
I know full well. But they will avenge us, so that our enemies shall
not go away rejoicing. And they will also recover our bodies, and
will carry them away for burial in holy places, so that the dogs and
wolves shall not devour them."

"You say well," cried Roland, and he put his horn to his lips, and
gave so mighty a blast upon it, that the sound was heard thirty
leagues away. King Charles and his men heard it, and the King said,
"Our countrymen are fighting with the enemy." But Ganelon answered,
"Sire, had any but you so spoken, I had said that he spoke falsely."

Then Roland blew his horn a second time; with great pain and anguish
of body he blew it, and the red blood gushed from his lips; but the
sound was heard yet further than at first. Again the King heard it,
and all his nobles, and all his men. "That," said he, "is Roland's
horn; he never had sounded it were he not in battle with the enemy."
But Ganelon answered again: "Believe me, Sire, there is no battle.
You are an old man, and you have the fancies of a child. You know
what a mighty man of valour is this Roland. Think you that any one
would dare to attack him? No one, of a truth. Ride on, Sire, why
halt you here? The fair land of France is yet far away."

Roland blew his horn a third time, and when the King heard it he
said, "He that blew that horn drew a deep breath." And Duke Naymes
cried out, "Roland is in trouble; on my conscience he is fighting
with the enemy. Some one has betrayed him; 'tis he, I doubt not,
that would deceive you now. To arms, Sire! utter your war-cry, and
help your own house and your country. You have heard the cry of the
noble Roland."

Then King Charles bade all the trumpets sound, and forthwith all the
men of France armed themselves, with helmets, and hauberks, and
swords with pummels of gold. Mighty were their shields, and their
lances strong, and the flags that they carried were white and red
and blue. And when they made an end of their arming they rode back
with all haste. There was not one of them but said to his comrade,
"If we find Roland yet alive, what mighty strokes will we strike for
him!"

But Ganelon the King handed over to the knaves of his kitchen. "Take
this traitor," said he, "who has sold his country." Ill did Ganelon
fare among them. They pulled out his hair and his beard and smote
him with their staves; then they put a great chain, such as that
with which a bear is bound, about his neck, and made him fast to a
pack-horse.

This done, the King and his army hastened with all speed to the help
of Roland. In the van and the rear sounded the trumpets as though
they would answer Roland's horn. Full of wrath was King Charles as
he rode; full of wrath were all the men of France. There was not one
among them but wept and sobbed; there was not one but prayed, "Now,
may God keep Roland alive till we come to the battlefield, so that
we may strike a blow for him." Alas! it was all in vain; they could
not come in time for all their speed.

Count Roland looked round on the mountain-sides and on the plains.
Alas! how many noble sons of France he saw lying dead upon them!
"Dear friends," he said, weeping as he spoke, "may God have mercy on
you and receive you into His Paradise! More loyal followers have I
never seen. How is the fair land of France widowed of her bravest,
and I can give you no help. Oliver, dear comrade, we must not part.
If the enemy slay me not here, surely I shall be slain by sorrow.
Come then, let us smite these heathen."

Thus did Roland again charge the enemy, his good sword Durendal in
his hand; as the stag flies before the hounds, so did the heathen
fly before Roland. "By my faith," cried the Archbishop when he saw
him, "that is a right good knight! Such courage, and such a steed,
and such arms I love well to see. If a man be not brave and a stout
fighter, he had better by far be a monk in some cloister where he
may pray all day long for our sins."

Now the heathen, when they saw how few the Frenchmen were, took
fresh courage. And the Caliph, spurring his horse, rode against
Oliver and smote him in the middle of his back, making his spear
pass right through him. "That is a shrewd blow," he cried; "I have
avenged my friends and countrymen upon you."

Then Oliver knew he was stricken to death, but he would not fall
unavenged. With his great sword Hautclere he smote the Caliph on his
head and cleft it to the teeth. "Curse on you, pagan. Neither your
wife nor any woman in the land of your birth shall boast that you
have taken a penny's worth from King Charles!" But to Roland he
cried, "Come, comrade, help me; well I know that we two shall part
in great sorrow this day."

Roland came with all speed, and saw his friend, how he lay all pale
and fainting on the ground and how the blood gushed in great streams
from his wound. "I know not what to do," he cried. "This is an ill
chance that has befallen you. Truly France is bereaved of her
bravest son." So saying he went near to swoon in the saddle as he
sat. Then there befell a strange thing. Oliver had lost so much of
his blood that he could not any more see clearly or know who it was
that was near him. So he raised up his arm and smote with all his
strength that yet remained to him on the helmet of Roland his
friend. The helmet he cleft in twain to the visor; but by good
fortune it wounded not the head. Roland looked at him and said in a
gentle voice, "Did you this of set purpose? I am Roland your friend,
and have not harmed you." "Ah!" said Oliver, "I hear you speak, but
I cannot see you. Pardon me that I struck you; it was not done of
set purpose." "It harmed me not," answered Roland; "with all my
heart and before God I forgive you." And this was the way these two
friends parted at the last.

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