NOTE,—The greatest legendary hero of France is Roland, one of
Charlmagne's knights. His deeds are told in Chansons De Roland (Songs
of Roland). These songs correspond to the legends of King Arthur in
England and to the stories of the Cid in Spain.
Every nation possesses a few of these great characters whose lives have furnished incidents without number to enrich the literature of the land. Roland shines as one of the finest of national heroes.
Charlemagne, old and gray, grown weary with fighting and the conquest of Europe, sat at ease among his noble councilors in the shade of a great tree in northern Spain. Around him were camped the mighty hosts that he had led against the Saracens, and now the leaders were talking over their plans for the future. Only one strong castle, the great fortress of Zaragoz, on a steep and rugged mountain top, held out against him after his seven years of combat against the Mohammedans in Spain. So heavy were the walls of this stronghold and so difficult the guarded paths that led up to it that it seemed impossible for man to take it. One after another, the valorous knights, the twelve great paladins of Charlemagne gave their opinions, but no conclusion could be reached.
Among these hardy warriors was Roland, favorite nephew of the king, and greatest of all the paladins. Next him sat Oliver, the friend of his soul, closer knit in bonds of friendship than ever the ties of blood bound brother to brother. Others there were of valiant men who had often proved their courage against their pagan enemies. None, however, matched in massiveness and kingly bearing the great Charles himself, who sat now on his chair of gold over which twined a flowering rose vine. In the boughs of the towering pine the birds sang blithely, unconscious of the tragic events planning below them.
While they sat there in council there appeared among them a herald bearing the white flag of peace. Behind him came Blancandrin, chief noble and councilor of Marsilius, the ruler of the fortress about which King Charles and his paladins had been talking.
"My Lord the king," said Blancandrin, kneeling at the feet of the stately old monarch, "I come as a messenger of peace from my master, King Marsilius, who now, after these years, sees in you the great king whom all men may worship. Rich gifts bear I to your glorious majesty, —bears, lions and hounds in numbers, falcons trained to hunt and keen for their prey, and four hundred powerful mules drawing fifty chariots full of gold, rich tapestries and precious jewels, wealth which even Charles the Great need not scorn to take.
"For all this richness my master begs only peace from thee, and privilege to reign over Spain as thy loyal vassal. On the Feast of Michael will Marsilius go to thy palace at Aachen and render homage unto thee, and thenceforth shalt thou be his lord, and thy God shall be his God, only so that thou removest thine armies from out this kingdom."
The king listened in silence and bowed his head in meditation. For a quarter of an hour was no word spoken, for gravely Charlemagne considered every question placed before him, and weighed well his words; for once he had given pledge no power could make him change.
At last he turned upon the messenger his face clothed in its aureole of silvery hair, and said, "What assurance have I that Marsilius will keep his word and be my faithful subject?"
"Most noble king," said Blancandrin, "we have with us twenty boys, sons of twenty of the greatest nobles of our land. Take them all and keep them as hostages till my master pays homage to thee at Aachen as he has promised. Deal gently with these young men of ours, I pray thee, for they are dear to our hearts and are of the very flower of our kingdom."