Cries of horror resounded on all sides, but they were speedily drowned by the shouts and music of the Saracens.
Charlemagne sat motionless, with his eyes fixed on the body of Oliver. His bravest knights pressed round him, imploring him to send them to fight the giant, but he did not hear them.
They brought a litter; the surgeons entered the lists, and soon the cry was raised, “Oliver still breathes!” Then Charles roused himself, and, with tears in his eyes, exclaimed—
“Blessed St. James! I have ever had full faith in you. Save this gallant champion, and I promise you a chapel in the land of the Saracens. It shall be so lovely, it shall be the envy of all the calendar.”
Then, turning to Ganelon and Wolf, he said, “Now, as for you, Count of Mayence, and you, Duke of Aquitaine, if you do not accept the combat, I swear by Heaven that to-morrow you shall be degraded from the order of knighthood on the very spot where this brave knight has just fallen.”
“So be it,” said Ganelon, “‘twill be strange if we do not let you see we are of as gallant and noble a lineage as your favourites!” and, followed by Wolf, he descended into the lists.
