"Ah, it was you who won Spain! And this is the best you have? By the Prophet, ten such at a time were no match for Ferragus alone."
Chafing under this disgrace, Charlemagne despatched two knights together, Sir Constantine of Rome, and Earl Howel of Nantes—only to suffer the humiliation of seeing the huge Saracen tuck one under each arm and walk away with them as if they were children.
Abandoning all thought of equal combat, he bade ten knights sally out and destroy this prodigy, whose boasting grew ever more difficult to endure. To his amazement, the issue was the same: Ferragus was not so much as wounded, while these doughty knights were borne off in triumph to the castle dungeon.
Ruin instead of renown seemed to lie at the end of
this road, and the Emperor refused to risk any more of his knights in conflict with this unearthly being.
Roland's proud heart could not brook this. He came before Charles and demanded the combat. Dreading a similar fate for this best-loved of his douzepeers, the Emperor urged him to forego the adventure; yet when the Duke insisted that he must undertake it, for his own honor and that of France, Charles could no longer withhold his assent.
Armed cap-à-pie, the undefeated Paladin rode forth. So confident and haughty was his mien that Ferragus perceived this was no adversary to be despised. As the knight drew near, the giant's great hand shot out and gripped him inexorably by the sword arm. That vise-like grasp paralyzed the victim's muscles, as the crushing jaws of the lion are said to destroy effort and feeling. Then he put forth all his superhuman power, and lifted the knight from the saddle. Swinging him in front of himself, he urged his huge charger towards the castle, well assured of adding him too to the growing band of captives.
But as he was bearing him to the city (says the chronicler of nearly a thousand years ago), Roland recovered his strength, and trusting in the Almighty, seized the giant by the beard, and tumbled him from his horse, so that both came to the ground together. Roland then thinking to slay the infidel, drew his sword Durandal and struck at him, but the blow fell upon his steed and shore through it.
The giant, being thus on foot, drew his enormous sword; but Roland, who had remounted his own
charger, dealt him a sudden stroke on the sword arm. Though Durandal was tempered so that the knight could cut through a block of marble with it, yet could the blade make no impression upon this creature's skin. Still, the sheer force of the blow struck the brand from the giant's grasp.