"When I begged you to blow it," said Olivier, "you refused, when you could have saved the lives of all of us. You will show no valor if you blow it now."
"Great is the strife," said Roland. "I will blow that Carle may come."
"Then," said Olivier, "if I return to France, I pledge you my word my sister Aude shall never be your wife. Your rashness has been the cause of our destruction. Now you shall die here, and here ends our friendship."
Across the field the archbishop spurred to reconcile the friends. "Carle will come too late to save our lives," said he, "but he will reach the field in time to preserve our mangled bodies and wreak vengeance on our foes."
Roland put his horn to his lips and blew with such force that his temples burst and the crimson blood poured forth from his mouth. Three times he sounded his horn, and each time the sound brought anguish to the heart of Carle, who heard it, riding thirty leagues away. "Our men make battle!" cried he; but this Ganelon hastened to deny, insisting that Roland was but hunting and blowing the horn, taking sport among the peers. But Duke Naimes exclaimed, "Your nephew is in sore distress. He who would deceive you is a traitor. Haste! Shout your war-cry, and let us return to the battle-field. You yourself hear plainly his call for help!"
Commanding Ganelon to be seized and given to the scullions of his house to be kept for punishment until his return, Carle ordered his men to arm and return to Roncesvalles, that they might, if possible, save the lives of the noble peers. All the army wept aloud as they thought of the doom of Roland. High were the mountains, deep the valleys, swift the rushing streams. The French rode on, answering the sound of the olifant; the emperor rode, filled with grief and rage; the barons spurred their horses, but in vain.
After Roland had sounded the horn he again grasped Durendal, and, mounted on his horse Veillantif, scoured the battle-field, cutting down the heathen. But still their troops pressed him, and when he saw the Ethiopian band led by the uncle of Marsile, he knew his doom had come. Olivier, riding forth to meet the accursed band, received his death-wound from the Kalif, but lived to cut his enemy down, and call Roland to him. Alas! sight had forsaken his eyes, and as he sat on his steed he lifted his bright sword Halteclere, and struck Roland a fearful blow that clove his crest but did not touch his head. "Was the blow meant for me, my comrade?" asked Roland softly. "Nay, I can see no more. God pity me! Pardon me, my friend!" and as the two embraced each other, Olivier fell dead.
Then, in the agony of his grief, Roland fainted, sitting firm in his saddle, and again recovering consciousness, became aware of the terrible losses of the French. Only himself, the archbishop, and the gallant Gaultier de l'Hum were left to defend the honor of the French. After Gaultier fell, Roland, unassisted save by Turpin, who fought transfixed by four spear shafts, put the enemy to flight. Feeling his death wounds, Roland besought Turpin to let him bring together the bodies of his fallen comrades that they might receive the blessing of the archbishop. Weak and trembling from loss of blood, Roland passed to and fro over the corpse-bestrewn field, and gathered together his comrades: here, Gerin and Gerier, Berengier and Otun; there, Anseis, Samsun, and Gerard de Roussillon, and last of all, his beloved Olivier, and placing them before the knees of Turpin, he saw them receive his blessing.
In his great grief at the sight of the dead Olivier, Roland again fainted, and Turpin hastened to a little brook near by for water to revive him. But the strain was too great for his already weakened body, and, when Roland revived, it was to find the archbishop dead.
Then Roland, realizing that his hour, too, had come, sought out a place in which to die. Upon a hill between two lofty trees, where was a marble terrace, he placed himself with his head towards the enemy's country; and there a Saracen, who had feigned death to escape it, tried to wrest from him his beloved Durendal.