At this the Emperor, bending low his head, Twists his mustache and plucks his hoary beard, Answering his nephew neither yea nor nay. The Franks keep silence—all save Ganelon Who rose and stood before the King, and spake Bold words and haughty:—"Put not faith in fools, Nor me nor others; follow your own rede! Since King Marsile makes offer to become Your man, with hands joined; furthermore will hold Spain as a fief from you; yea, will receive Our law as his law, he who counsel gives Such proffer to reject, cares not a whit What death we die. No counsel take of pride; Let pass the fools and listen to the wise." Aoi.
[XVI.]
And now Duke Naimes arose: his beard and hair As white as drifted snow. In all the court No better vassal stood; and to the King: "Have you marked well the words Count Ganelon In answer spoke but now? His plan is wise; Follow it then. This King Marsile in war Is overcome, his strongholds all pulled down; By warlike engines are his walls destroyed, His cities burned, his men subdued;—when now He for your mercy prays, foul sin it were To press him harder. Since he, furthermore Will bind his word by gift of hostages, [One of your barons also send to him.] In truth no longer this great war should rage." The French all cry:—"Duke Naimes has spoken well." Aoi.
[XVII.]
"Seigneurs Barons, which of you shall we send To meet the King Marsile in Sarraguce?" Duke Naimes responds:—"I, with your leave will go; Give me the glove and staff."—"Nay," quoth King Carle, "A sage you are in council, well I know: By this mustache and by this beard of mine, So far away from me you shall not go. Back to your seat, since none hath summoned you." Aoi.
[XVIII.]
"Seigneurs Barons, which of you shall we send As messengers to Sarraguce where rules Marsile?"—Rollánd responds:—"Behold me here!" "—You shall not, by my troth!" cries Olivier, "Your pride too fierce, and courage far too hot; I fear some misadventure from your zeal. Should our King grant me but his leave, 'tis I Will go!"—The King exclaimed:—"Be silent both— Nor you, nor he, shall yonder set your foot! Ay, by this hoary beard of mine, I swear, Not one of my twelve Peers shall thither go." The French are dumb—-all silenced by these words. Aoi.
[XIX.]
Turpin de Reins arises from the ranks And to the King he says: "Let your Franks stay, To this land seven years ago you came, And they have suffered much of toil and pain. Give me the glove and staff, and I will go And speak my mind to that proud Saracen." With anger great the Emperor replies: "Back to your seat on yonder pallie white Nor speak another word, save by command!" Aoi.