Greatly enraged at this mischance, Ferragus aimed a blow at Roland with his fist, but, missing him, hit his horse on the forehead and laid it dead on the spot. Avoiding the monster's grasp Roland laid on him lustily with Durandal, but the unfailing weapon could find no spot where the giant's hide might be pierced.
For the rest of that day they battled with fists and stones. The giant then demanded a truce till next day, agreeing to meet Roland without horse or spear. Each warrior then retired to his post.
Next morning they accordingly met once more. Ferragus brought his sword, but Roland armed himself only with a sturdy club to ward off the blows of the giant, who wearied himself to no purpose.
They now began again to batter each other with stones that lay scattered about the field, till at last the giant begged a second truce. This being granted, he presently fell fast asleep upon the ground. Roland, taking a stone for a pillow, quietly laid himself down also. For such was the law of honor between the Christians and the Saracens at that time, that no one on any pretence dared to take advantage of his adversary before the truce was expired, as in that case his own party would have slain him.
When Ferragus awoke, he found Roland awake
also, marvelling at the prodigious snoring which came from his huge adversary. He discovered, too, that the knight had placed a block of stone beneath his head for a pillow, and this courtesy caused him to inquire the Frenchman's name.
Roland told him, and inquired in his turn of that matter which most bewildered him: how it was that no wounds had resulted from all his swordplay with his trusted Durandal.
"Because," said Ferragus proudly, "I am invulnerable except in one point."
"And where is that?"
"In the navel."