He Plots with Marsile’s Messengers
Then Ganelon rode away, and shortly overtook the ambassadors of the Moorish king, for Blancandrin had delayed their journey to accompany him, and the two envoys began a crafty conversation, for both were wary and skilful, and each was trying to read the other’s mind. The wily Saracen began:
“‘Ah! what a wondrous king is Charles!
How far and wide his conquests range!
The salt sea is no bar to him:
From Poland to far England’s shores
He stretches his unquestioned sway;
But why seeks he to win bright Spain?’
‘Such is his will,’ quoth Ganelon;
‘None can withstand his mighty power!’
“‘How valiant are the Frankish lords
But how their counsel wrongs their king
To urge him to this long-drawn strife—
They ruin both themselves and him!’
‘I blame not them,’ quoth Ganelon,
‘But Roland, swollen with fatal pride.
Near Carcassonne he brought the King
An apple, crimson streaked with gold:
“Fair sire,” quoth he, “here at your feet
I lay the crowns of all the kings.”
If he were dead we should have peace!’
“‘How haughty must this Roland be
Who fain would conquer all the earth!
Such pride deserves due chastisement!
What warriors has he for the task?’
‘The Franks of France,’ quoth Ganelon,
‘The bravest warriors ’neath the sun!
For love alone they follow him
(Or lavish gifts which he bestows)
To death, or conquest of the world!’”
“Ganelon rode away”