Books: Legends of Charlemagne
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Thomas Bulfinch >> Legends of Charlemagne
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Charlemagne called together his peers, and made them take an oath
to do all in their power to arrest Ogier, and bring him to condign
punishment. Ogier on his part sent messages to the Emperor,
offering to give himself up on condition that Charlot should be
punished for his atrocious crime. The Emperor would listen to no
conditions, and went in pursuit of Ogier at the head of a large
body of soldiers. Ogier, on the other hand, was warmly supported
by many knights, who pledged themselves in his defence. The
contest raged long, with no decisive results. Ogier more than once
had the Emperor in his power, but declined to avail himself of his
advantage, and released him without conditions. He even implored
pardon for himself, but demanded at the same time the punishment
of Charlot. But Charlemagne was too blindly fond of his unworthy
son to subject him to punishment for the sake of conciliating one
who had been so deeply injured.
At length, distressed at the blood which his friends had lost in
his cause, Ogier dismissed his little army, and slipping away from
those who wished to attend him, took his course to rejoin the Duke
Guyon, his brother. On his way, having reached the forest of
Ardennes, weary with long travel, the freshness of a retired
valley tempted him to lie down to take some repose. He unsaddled
Beiffror, relieved himself of his helmet, lay down on the turf,
rested his head on his shield, and slept.
It so happened that Turpin, who occasionally recalled to mind that
he was Archbishop of Rheins, was at that time in the vicinity,
making a pastoral visit to the churches under his jurisdiction.
But his dignity of peer of France, and his martial spirit, which
caused him to be reckoned among the "preux chevaliers" of his
time, forbade him to travel without as large a retinue of knights
as he had of clergymen. One of these was thirsty, and knowing the
fountain on the borders of which Ogier was reposing, he rode to
it, and was struck by the sight of a knight stretched on the
ground. He hastened back, and let the Archbishop know, who
approached the fountain, and recognized Ogier.
The first impulse of the good and generous Turpin was to save his
friend, for whom he felt the warmest attachment; but his
archdeacons and knights, who also recognized Ogier, reminded the
Archbishop of the oath which the Emperor had exacted of them all.
Turpin could not be false to his oath; but it was not without a
groan that he permitted his followers to bind the sleeping knight.
The Archbishop's attendants secured the horse and arms of Ogier,
and conducted their prisoner to the Emperor at Soissons.
The Emperor had become so much embittered by Ogier's obstinate
resistance, added to his original fault, that he was disposed to
order him to instant death. But Turpin, seconded by the good Dukes
Namo and Salomon, prayed so hard for him that Charlemagne
consented to remit a violent death, but sentenced him to close
imprisonment, under the charge of the Archbishop, strictly
limiting his food to one quarter of a loaf of bread per day, with
one piece of meat, and a quarter of a cup of wine. In this way he
hoped to quickly put an end to his life without bringing on
himself the hostility of the King of Denmark, and other powerful
friends of Ogier. He exacted a new oath of Turpin to obey his
order strictly.
The good Archbishop loved Ogier too well not to cast about for
some means of saving his life, which he foresaw he would soon lose
if subjected to such scanty fare, for Ogier was seven feet tall,
and had an appetite in proportion. Turpin remembered, moreover,
that Ogier was a true son of the Church, always zealous to
propagate the faith and subdue unbelievers; so he felt justified
in practising on this occasion what in later times has been
entitled "mental reservation," without swerving from the letter of
the oath which he had taken. This is the method he hit upon.
Every morning he had his prisoner supplied with a quarter of a
loaf of bread, made of two bushels of flour, to this he added a
quarter of a sheep or a fat calf, and he had a cup made which held
forty pints of wine, and allowed Ogier a quarter of it daily.
Ogier's imprisonment lasted long; Charlemagne was astonished to
hear, from time to time, that he still held out; and when he
inquired more particularly of Turpin, the good Archbishop, relying
on his own understanding of the words, did not hesitate to affirm
positively that he allowed his prisoner no more than the permitted
ration.
We forgot to say that, when Ogier was led prisoner to Soissons,
the Abbot of Saint Faron, observing the fine horse Beiffror, and
not having at the time any other favor to ask of Charlemagne,
begged the Emperor to give him the horse, and had him taken to his
abbey. He was impatient to try his new acquisition, and when he
had arrived in his litter at the foot of the mountain where the
horse had been brought to meet him mounted him and rode onward.
The horse, accustomed to bear the enormous weight of Ogier in his
armor, when he perceived nothing on his back but the light weight
of the Abbot, whose long robes fluttered against his sides, ran
away, making prodigious leaps over the steep acclivities of the
mountain till he reached the convent of Jouaire, where, in sight
of the Abbess and her nuns, he threw the Abbot, already half dead
with fright, to the ground. The Abbot, bruised and mortified,
revenged himself on poor Beiffror, whom he condemned, in his
wrath, to be given to the workmen to drag stones for a chapel that
he was building near the abbey. Thus, ill-fed, hard-worked, and
often beaten, the noble horse Beiffror passed the time while his
master's imprisonment lasted.
That imprisonment would have been as long as his life if it had
not been for some important events which forced the Emperor to set
Ogier at liberty.
The Emperor learned at the same time that Carahue, King of
Mauritania, was assembling an army to come and demand the
liberation of Ogier; that Guyon, King of Denmark, was prepared to
second the enterprise with all his forces; and, worse than all,
that the Saracens, under Bruhier, Sultan of Arabia, had landed in
Gascony, taken Bordeaux, and were marching with all speed for
Paris.
Charlemagne now felt how necessary the aid of Ogier was to him.
But, in spite of the representations of Turpin, Namo, and Salomon,
he could not bring himself to consent to surrender Charlot to such
punishment as Ogier should see fit to impose. Besides, he believed
that Ogier was without strength and vigor, weakened by
imprisonment and long abstinence.
At this crisis he received a message from Bruhier, proposing to
put the issue upon the result of a combat between himself and the
Emperor or his champion; promising, if defeated, to withdraw his
army. Charlemagne would willingly have accepted the challenge, but
his counsellors all opposed it. The herald was therefore told that
the Emperor would take time to consider his proposition, and give
his answer the next day.
It was during this interval that the three Dukes succeeded in
prevailing upon Charlemagne to pardon Ogier, and to send for him
to combat the puissant enemy who now defied him; but it was no
easy task to persuade Ogier. The idea of his long imprisonment and
the recollection of his son, bleeding and dying in his arms by the
blow of the ferocious Charlot, made him long resist the urgency of
his friends. Though glory called him to encounter Bruhier, and the
safety of Christendom demanded the destruction of this proud enemy
of the faith, Ogier only yielded at last on condition that Charlot
should be delivered into his hands to be dealt with as he should
see fit.
The terms were hard, but the danger was pressing, and Charlemagne,
with a returning sense of justice, and a strong confidence in the
generous though passionate soul of Ogier, at last consented to
them.
Ogier was led into the presence of Charlemagne by the three peers.
The Emperor, faithful to his word, had caused Charlot to be
brought into the hall where the high barons were assembled, his
hands tied, and his head uncovered. When the Emperor saw Ogier
approach he took Charlot by the arm, led him towards Ogier, and
said these words: "I surrender the criminal; do with him as you
think fit." Ogier, without replying, seized Charlot by the hair,
forced him on his knees, and lifted with the other hand his
irresistible sword. Charlemagne, who expected to see the head of
his son rolling at his feet, shut his eyes and uttered a cry of
horror.
Ogier had done enough. The next moment he raised Charlot, cut his
bonds, kissed him on the mouth, and hastened to throw himself at
the feet of the Emperor.
Nothing can exceed the surprise and joy of Charlemagne at seeing
his son unharmed and Ogier kneeling at his feet. He folded him in
his arms, bathed him with tears, and exclaimed to his barons, "I
feel at this moment that Ogier is greater than I." As for Charlot,
his base soul felt nothing but the joy of having escaped death; he
remained such as he had been, and it was not till some years
afterwards he received the punishment he deserved, from the hands
of Huon of Bordeaux, as we have seen in a former chapter.
OGIER, THE DANE (Continued)
WHEN Charlemagne had somewhat recovered his composure he was
surprised to observe that Ogier appeared in good case, and had a
healthy color in his cheeks. He turned to the Archbishop, who
could not help blushing as he met his eye. "By the head of Bertha,
my queen," said Charlemagne, "Ogier has had good quarters in your
castle, my Lord Archbishop; but so much the more am I indebted to
you." All the barons laughed and jested with Turpin, who only
said, "Laugh as much as you please, my lords; but for my part I am
not sorry to see the arm in full vigor that is to avenge us on the
proud Saracen."
Charlemagne immediately despatched his herald, accepting the
challenge, and appointing the next day but one for the encounter.
The proud and crafty Bruhier laughed scornfully when he heard the
reply accepting his challenge, for he had a reliance on certain
resources besides his natural strength and skill. However, he
swore by Mahomet to observe the conditions as proposed and agreed
upon.
Ogier now demanded his armor, and it was brought to him in
excellent condition, for the good Turpin had kept it faithfully;
but it was not easy to provide a horse for the occasion.
Charlemagne had the best horses of his stables brought out, except
Blanchard, his own charger; but all in vain, the weight of Ogier
bent their backs to the ground. In this embarrassment the
Archbishop remembered that the Emperor had given Beiffror to the
Abbot of St. Faron, and sent off a courier in haste to re-demand
him.
Monks are hard masters, and the one who directed the laborers at
the abbey had but too faithfully obeyed the orders of the Abbot.
Poor Beiffror was brought back, lean, spiritless, and chafed with
the harness of the vile cart that he had had to draw so long. He
carried his head down, and trod heavily before Charlemagne; but
when he heard the voice of Ogier he raised his head, he neighed,
his eyes flashed, his former ardor showed itself by the force with
which he pawed the ground. Ogier caressed him, and the good steed
seemed to return his caresses; Ogier mounted him, and Beiffror,
proud of carrying his master again, leapt and curvetted with all
his youthful vigor.
Nothing being now wanted, Charlemagne, at the head of his army,
marched forth from the city of Paris, and occupied the hill of
Montmartre, whence the view extended over the plain of St. Denis,
where the battle was to be fought.
When the appointed day came the Dukes Namo and Salomon, as seconds
of Ogier, accompanied him to the place marked out for the lists,
and Bruhier, with two distinguished Emirs, presented himself on
the other side.
Bruhier was in high spirits, and jested with his friends, as he
advanced, upon the appearance of Beiffror. "Is that the horse they
presume to match with Marchevallee, the best steed that ever fed
in the vales of Mount Atlas?" But now the combatants, having met
and saluted each other, ride apart to come together in full
career. Beiffror flew over the plain, and met the adversary more
than half-way. The lances of the two combatants were shivered at
the shock, and Bruhier was astonished to see almost at the same
instant the sword of Ogier gleaming above his head. He parried it
with his buckler, and gave Ogier a blow on his helmet, who
returned it with another, better aimed or better seconded by the
temper of his blade, for it cut away part of Bruhier's helmet, and
with it his ear and part of his cheek. Ogier, seeing the blood,
did not immediately repeat his blow, and Bruhier seized the moment
to gallop off at one side. As he rode he took a vase of gold which
hung at his saddle-bow, and bathed with its contents the wounded
part. The blood instantly ceased to flow, the ear and the flesh
were restored quite whole, and the Dane was astonished to see his
antagonist return to the ground as sound as ever.
Bruhier laughed at his amazement. "Know," said he, "that I possess
the precious balm that Joseph of Arimathea used upon the body of
the crucified one, whom you worship. If I should lose an arm I
could restore it with a few drops of this. It is useless for you
to contend with me. Yield yourself, and, as you appear to be a
strong fellow, I will make you first oarsman in one of my
galleys."
Ogier, though boiling with rage, forgot not to implore the
assistance of Heaven. "O Lord!" he exclaimed, "suffer not the
enemy of thy name to profit by the powerful help of that which
owes all its virtue to thy divine blood." At these words he
attacked Bruhier again with more vigor than ever; both struck
terrible blows, and made grievous wounds; but the blood flowed
from those of Ogier, while Bruhier stanched his by the application
of his balm. Ogier, desperate at the unequal contest, grasped
Cortana with both hands, and struck his enemy such a blow that it
cleft his buckler, and cut off his arm with it; but Bruhier at the
same time launched one at Ogier, which, missing him, struck the
head of Beiffror, and the good horse fell, and drew down his
master in his fall.
Bruhier had time to leap to the ground, to pick up his arm and
apply his balsam; then, before Ogier had recovered his footing, he
rushed forward with sword uplifted to complete his destruction.
Charlemagne, from the height of Montmartre, seeing the brave Ogier
in this situation, groaned, and was ready to murmur against
Providence; but the good Turpin, raising his arms, with a faith
like that of Moses, drew down upon the Christian warrior the favor
of Heaven.
Ogier, promptly disengaging himself, pressed Bruhier with so much
impetuosity that he drove him to a distance from his horse, to
whose saddle-bow the precious balm was suspended; and very soon
Charlemagne saw Ogier, now completely in the advantage, bring his
enemy to his knees, tear off his helmet, and, with a sweep of his
sword, strike his head from his body.
After the victory, Ogier seized Marchevallee, leaped upon his
back, and became possessed of the precious flask, a few drops from
which closed his wounds and restored his strength. The French
knights who had been Bruhier's captives, now released, pressed
round Ogier to thank him for their deliverance.
Charlemagne and his nobles, as soon as their attention was
relieved from the single combat, perceived from their elevated
position an unusual agitation in the enemy's camp. They attributed
it at first to the death of their general, but soon the noise of
arms, the cries of combatants, and new standards which advanced,
disclosed to them the fact that Bruhier's army was attacked by a
new enemy.
The Emperor was right; it was the brave Carahue of Mauritania,
who, with an army, had arrived in France, resolved to attempt the
liberation of Ogier, his brother in arms. Learning on his arrival
the changed aspect of affairs, he hesitated not to render a signal
service to the Emperor, by attacking the army of Bruhier in the
midst of the consternation occasioned by the loss of its
commander.
Ogier recognized the standard of his friend, and leaping upon
Marchevallee, flew to aid his attack. Charlemagne followed with
his army; and the Saracen host, after an obstinate conflict, was
forced to surrender unconditionally.
The interview of Ogier and Carahue was such as might be
anticipated of two such attached friends and accomplished knights.
Charlemagne went to meet them, embraced them, and putting the King
of Mauritania on his right and Ogier on his left, returned with
triumph to Paris. There the Empress Bertha and the ladies of her
court crowned them with laurels, and the sage and gallant
Eginhard, chamberlain and secretary of the Emperor, wrote all
these great events in his history.
A few days after Guyon, King of Denmark, arrived in France with a
chosen band of knights, and sent an ambassador to Charlemagne, to
say that he came, not as an enemy, but to render homage to him as
the best knight of the time and the head of the Christian world.
Charlemagne gave the ambassador a cordial reception, and mounting
his horse, rode forward to meet the King of Denmark.
These great princes, being assembled at the court of Charles, held
council together, and the ancient and sage barons were called to
join it.
It was decided that the united Danish and Mauritanian armies
should cross the sea and carry the war to the country of the
Saracens, and that a thousand French knights should range
themselves under the banner of Ogier, the Dane, who, though not a
king, should have equal rank with the two others.
We have not space to record all the illustrious actions performed
by Ogier and his allies in this war. Suffice it to say, they
subdued the Saracens of Ptolemais and Judaea, and, erecting those
regions into a kingdom, placed the crown upon the head of Ogier.
Guyon and Carahue then left him, to return to their respective
dominions. Ogier adopted Walter, the son of Guyon of Denmark, to
be his successor in his kingdom. He superintended his education,
and saw the young prince grow up worthy of his cares. But Ogier,
in spite of all the honors of his rank, often regretted the court
of Charlemagne, the Duke Namo, and Salomon of Brittany, for whom
he had the respect and attachment of a son. At last, finding
Walter old enough to sustain the weight of government, Ogier
caused a vessel to be prepared secretly, and, attended only by one
squire, left his palace by night, and embarked to return to
France.
The vessel, driven by a fair wind, cut the sea with the swiftness
of a bird; but on a sudden it deviated from its course, no longer
obeyed the helm, and sped fast towards a black promontory which
stretched into the sea. This was a mountain of loadstone, and, its
attractive power increasing as the distance diminished, the vessel
at last flew with the swiftness of an arrow towards it, and was
dashed to pieces on its rocky base. Ogier alone saved himself, and
reached the shore on a fragment of the wreck.
Ogier advanced into the country, looking for some marks of
inhabitancy, but found none. On a sudden he encountered two
monstrous animals, covered with glittering scales, accompanied by
a horse breathing fire. Ogier drew his sword and prepared to
defend himself; but the monsters, terrific as they appeared, made
no attempt to assail him, and the horse, Papillon, knelt down, and
appeared to court Ogier to mount upon his back. Ogier hesitated
not to see the adventure through; he mounted Papillon, who ran
with speed, and soon cleared the rocks and precipices which hemmed
in and concealed a beautiful landscape. He continued his course
till he reached a magnificent palace, and, without allowing Ogier
time to admire it, crossed a grand court-yard adorned with
colonnades, and entered a garden, where, making his way through
alleys of myrtle, he checked his course, and knelt down on the
enamelled turf of a fountain.
Ogier dismounted and took some steps along the margin of the
stream, but was soon stopped by meeting a young beauty, such as
they paint the Graces, and almost as lightly attired as they. At
the same moment, to his amazement, his armor fell off of its own
accord. The young beauty advanced with a tender air, and placed
upon his head a crown of flowers. At that instant the Danish hero
lost his memory; his combats, his glory, Charlemagne and his
court, all vanished from his mind; he saw only Morgana, he desired
nothing but to sigh forever at her feet.
We abridge the narrative of all the delights which Ogier enjoyed
for more than a hundred years. Time flew by, leaving no impression
of its flight. Morgana's youthful charms did not decay, and Ogier
had none of those warnings of increasing years which less favored
mortals never fail to receive. There is no knowing how long this
blissful state might have lasted, if it had not been for an
accident, by which Morgana one day, in a sportive moment, snatched
the crown from his head. That moment Ogier regained his memory,
and lost his contentment. The recollection of Charlemagne, and of
his own relatives and friends, saddened the hours which he passed
with Morgana. The fairy saw with grief the changed looks of her
lover. At last she drew from him the acknowledgment that he wished
to go, at least for a time, to revisit Charles's court. She
consented with reluctance, and with her own hands helped to
reinvest him with his armor. Papillon was led forth, Ogier mounted
him, and, taking a tender adieu of the tearful Morgana, crossed at
rapid speed the rocky belt which separated Morgana's palace from
the borders of the sea. The sea-goblins which had received him at
his coming awaited him on the shore. One of them took Ogier on his
back, and the other placing himself under Papillon, they spread
their broad fins, and in a short time traversed the wide space
that separates the isle of Avalon from France. They landed Ogier
on the coast of Languedoc, and then plunged into the sea and
disappeared.
Ogier remounted on Papillon, who carried him across the kingdom
almost as fast as he had passed the sea. He arrived under the
walls of Paris, which he would scarcely have recognized if the
high towers of St. Genevieve had not caught his eye. He went
straight to the palace of Charlemagne, which seemed to him to have
been entirely rebuilt. His surprise was extreme, and increased
still more on finding that he understood with difficulty the
language of the guards and attendants in replying to his
questions; and seeing them smile as they tried to explain to one
another the language in which he addressed them. Presently the
attention of some of the barons who were going to court was
attracted to the scene, and Ogier, who recognized the badges of
their rank, addressed them, and inquired if the Dukes Namo and
Salomon were still residing at the Emperor's court. At this
question the barons looked at one another in amazement; and one of
the eldest said to the rest, "How much this knight resembles the
portrait of my grand-uncle, Ogier the Dane." "Ah! my dear nephew,
I am Ogier the Dane," said he; and he remembered that Morgana had
told him that he was little aware of the flight of time during his
abode with her.
The barons, more astonished than ever, concluded to conduct him to
the monarch who then reigned, the great Hugh Capet.
The brave Ogier entered the palace without hesitation; but when,
on reaching the royal hall, the barons directed him to make his
obeisance to the King of France, he was astonished to see a man of
short stature and large head, whose air, nevertheless, was noble
and martial, seated upon the throne on which he had so often seen
Charlemagne, the tallest and handsomest sovereign of his time.
Ogier recounted his adventures with simplicity and affectedness.
Hugh Capet was slow to believe him; but Ogier recalled so many
proofs and circumstances, that at last he was forced to recognize
the aged warrior to be the famous Ogier the Dane.
The king informed Ogier of the events which had taken place during
his long absence; that the line of Charlemagne was extinct; that a
new dynasty had commenced; that the old enemies of the kingdom,
the Saracens, were still troublesome; and that at that very time
an army of those miscreants was besieging the city of Chartres, to
which he was about to repair in a few days to its relief. Ogier,
always inflamed with the love of glory, offered the service of his
arm, which the illustrious monarch accepted graciously, and
conducted him to the queen. The astonishment of Ogier was
redoubled when he saw the new ornaments and head-dresses of the
ladies; still, the beautiful hair which they built up on their
foreheads, and the feathers interwoven, which waved with so much
grace, gave them a noble air that delighted him. His admiration
increased when, instead of the old Empress Bertha, he saw a young
queen who combined a majestic mien with the graces of her time of
life, and manners candid and charming, suited to attach all
hearts. Ogier saluted the youthful queen with a respect so
profound that many of the courtiers took him for a foreigner, or
at least for some nobleman brought up at a distance from Paris,
who retained the manners of what they called the old court.
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