When Roland found death was drawing near he took Durendal in one hand and his good horn in the other and crept away to a green hillock, where he lay down in his armor. While he lay there in agony a Saracen appeared plundering the dead and as he stole by Roland he saw the glitter of Durendal's hilt and put out his hand and snatched the sword. Roland opened his eyes and saw the thief before him with the sword in his hands, and turning suddenly he raised his horn and dealt the fellow so heavy a blow upon the skull that he stretched him dead upon the ground. Then, recovering Durendal, he clasped it in his hands and said, "Oh Durendal, keen of edge and bright of blade, God sent thee by his angels to Charles to be his captain's sword. Charles girt thee at my side, and many a country hast thou helped to conquer in my hands. Though it grieveth me sore to part with thee, yet would I rather break thee asunder than that thou shouldst fall into the hands of an enemy of France."

So, praying God to give him strength, he struck the sword so mightily upon a gray stone of granite that the stone was chipped and splintered, but the good sword broke not nor was its good edge turned in the least. A second time he struck the stone, and though under the blow it was cleft in twain, the blade leaped back unharmed. On the third blow he powdered the stone, but failed to turn the blade of polished steel.

Then Roland knew that the sword was indeed holy, and holding the cross
upon its hilt before his eyes, he said, "Oh Durendal, I am to blame.
The angels brought thee and they will keep thee safe for Charles and
France."

Now indeed Roland felt the throes of death approach, and turning his face toward Spain and toward his enemies he placed his sword and horn beneath him, and lifting his weary hands to heaven he closed his eyes. Death and silence brooded o'er the valley; the mists of night came up, and darkness hid the scene.

Charles and his followers had ridden hard and did not draw rein till they reached the mountain top and looked down into the valley of Roncesvalles. They blew the clarions loud, but no answering sound was heard save the echoes from the mountain sides. Then down through the mists and darkness they rode and saw the awful carnage. Roland and Oliver dead, Archbishop Turpin and the noble Twelve, and all the twenty thousand stretched among the heaps of pagan corpses.

Charles fell upon his face and wept, for he had brought up and nourished Roland from a babe, had taught him war and made him the bravest of knights and captain in his army. But anger burned in his bosom and dried his tears, so that when his officers approached and told him that they had found the tracks of the flying pagans he was ready to follow fiercely along their track.

Looking up, he saw that the sun was still some hours high, for God had miraculously stayed its passage that the Christians might be avenged. They overtook the flying enemy in the valley of Tenebrus, close by the swift torrent of the Ebro, and there with the swollen river in front and the fierce Franks on the flanks and rear the pagans were slowly cut to pieces. Only Marsilius and a little band, who had gone another way, escaped. Every Saracen in Tenebrus had perished before the Franks gave up their bloody work. Back to Roncesvalles went King Charles, where he buried the dead, all excepting Roland and Oliver, whose bodies he embalmed and carried in his richest chariots on his return journey.

Bitterly mourned the king in spite of the richness of his revenge. "Oh my Roland," he cried, "little pleasure have I in the land we have conquered. When I come again to my palace and people ask tidings, what can I say but that we have conquered cities, provinces and countries and left Roland dead? Then will there be no rejoicing. Sadness will fall upon our land, and every one will say the war has been in vain. Oh Roland, my friend, would God that I had died for thee."

When Charles had returned to Aachen he haled Ganelon before him and flatly accused the knight of treachery. This Ganelon denied, and the king set him on trial. By using the price of his treason, Ganelon secured among the judges thirty of his kinsmen, who by spending riches lavishly procured judgment for him, all voting him no traitor excepting a gentle youth, Tierry, who persisted in impeaching Ganelon as a felon and traitor who had betrayed Roland and the twenty thousand. Moreover, he accused the judges of treason and false judgment and offered to prove his charges upon any champion the accused should bring forth.

Tierry was a slender little lad, slight of limb and feeble in strength, and the champion selected by the accused was Pinabel, a giant among the Franks. All pitied Tierry and urged that some more doughty champion take up the cause, but King Charles said, "God will show the right."