Charles is Sad
“What grief weighs on your mind, sire?” asked the wise Duke Naimes, riding up beside Charlemagne.
“I mourn for my nephew. Last night in a vision I saw Ganelon break my trusty lance—this Ganelon who has sent Roland to the rear. And now I have left Roland in a foreign land, and, O God! if I lose him I shall never find his equal!” And the emperor rode on in silence, seeing naught but his own sad foreboding visions.
The Saracen Pursuit
Meanwhile King Marsile, with his countless Saracens, had pursued so quickly that the van of the heathen army soon saw waving the banners of the Frankish rear. Then as they halted before the strife began, one by one the nobles of Saragossa, the champions of the Moors, advanced and claimed the right to measure themselves against the Twelve Peers of France. Marsile’s nephew received the royal glove as chief champion, and eleven Saracen chiefs took a vow to slay Roland and spread the faith of Mahomet.
“Death to the rearguard! Roland shall die! Death to the Peers! Woe to France and Charlemagne! We will bring the Emperor to your feet! You shall sleep at St. Denis! Down with fair France!” Such were their confident cries as they armed for the conflict; and on their side no less eager were the Franks.
“Fair Sir Comrade,” said Oliver to Roland, “methinks we shall have a fray with the heathen.”
“God grant it,” returned Roland. “Our duty is to hold this pass for our king. A vassal must endure for his lord grief and pain, heat and cold, torment and death; and a knight’s duty is to strike mighty blows, that men may sing of him, in time to come, no evil songs. Never shall such be sung of me.”
Oliver Descries the Saracens
Hearing a great tumult, Oliver ascended a hill and looked towards Spain, where he perceived the great pagan army, like a gleaming sea, with shining hauberks and helms flashing in the sun. “Alas! we are betrayed! This treason is plotted by Ganelon, who put us in the rear,” he cried. “Say no more,” said Roland; “blame him not in this: he is my stepfather.”