For the White Christ: A Story of the Days of Charlemagne

by Robert Ames Bennet

"Your riders! Halt them, brother; let them camp outside the walls. They 've already had their share of war-loot, while my men have not fingered a penny. Ours should be the plunder of the Saracen houses."

"But the Christian townfolk--?"

"King Karl shall levy their wergild. We will not break a Christian door. I can trust my sea-wolves even in the looting."

"It is well, brother. The horsemen shall camp outside the burg. They shall guard the gates, but not enter," replied Roland, and, raising his horn, he blew a ringing call to halt.

So the weary weeks of war-vigil came to an end, and few other than the townfolk of Pampeluna grumbled at the half-week which lapsed before the main host of the Franks, with its huge over-burdened ox-train, came trailing out of the South.

Throughout the days of waiting the weary horsemen were well content to lie about their camps and feast on the good fare sent out by the luckless townfolk; while up in the citadel the vikings made exact allotment of their Moslem loot, and in the heat of the reckless gaming which followed forgot how they had been cooped up for months like nun-women, and cheated of the merry sword-play.

The days of idleness, of wassail and gaming, were soon cut short. On the morning that the main host reached Pampeluna, King Karl called the councillors of the city before him, and told them that their burg should no longer serve as an eyry for the treacherous Saracen hawks. He would exact no wergild,--no ransom; but the citadel and walls of the burg should be razed to the ground.

There was no appeal from the hard decree. Within an hour the city walls swarmed with thousands of Frankish warriors, armed with mattock and battering-ram. Soon the battlements were crashing down, to shatter one upon the other.

But the task was not one to be accomplished in a day, even by hordes of brawny Northerners. While the greater number toiled at battering down the walls and casting the loosened stones into the Arga, others scoured the country for miles around, levying tribute and hostages wherever they went.

Among the first of these forays was one led by Count Hardrat in the direction of Astorga. When he returned, he reported that no trace of the Moslems had been found. Yet, for such a fruitless faring, he seemed highly satisfied over its outcome, and he had no little to say apart with the beautiful daughter of the Grey Wolf.