Reinold did not in the least doubt his powers of riding anything, and begged his father, mother, and brothers to come and see him mount his new steed. They followed the lad into the stable. Reinold went straight up to Bayard, and seizing the halter in one hand, was about to mount, when the horse caught his coat between its teeth, and threw him on the ground. The bold warrior, ashamed of his fall, sprang to his feet, and next moment was seated in the saddle. There was a fierce struggle for mastery, which ended in the victory of Reinold. After a wild and dangerous ride, when Bayard once more stood in its stall, Haymon went up to the noble animal, and said:
“Bayard, this is my son, your future master.”
The horse seemed to understand, for it laid its head gently against Reinold’s breast, as though to acknowledge his mastery.
Count Haymon was soon strong enough to return to Pierlepont with his family. Shortly after his arrival there, he heard that the king, who had lately been crowned emperor at Rome, intended to confer the honour of knighthood on his son and heir, Prince Ludwig, and on several squires of noble birth. Haymon and his sons at once determined to go to court on this occasion.
A great tournament was held before the emperor knighted the young men, and each and all of the candidates showed himself worthy of the honour about to be bestowed on him; more especially Reinold, whose prowess brought down endless acclamations. After the ceremony of knighting the young nobles was over, Ludwig was crowned king, and named his father’s successor in the empire. The young king’s first act was to distribute fiefs to the new-made knights, save and except to the brothers alone; these he passed over entirely. He did not even invite them to the feast, and to all appearance the day of general rejoicing was to be a fast day for them. Reinold thought it too bad, so he walked into the royal kitchen and helped himself to all he needed for himself and his brothers.
The reason of this extraordinary conduct on Ludwig’s part was easy to guess. He was jealous of the superior strength and prowess Reinold had displayed in the lists; above all, he could not forget the fall he had met with at his hands. He confided his dislike of Reinold to his favourite, Ganelon, a fawning sycophant, and told him that he wanted to rid himself and the country of him whom he chose to regard as his enemy. Ganelon at once had a plan to propose. He said that Ludwig, who was famous for his skill in playing chess, should challenge Adelhart, one of the brothers, to play a game with him, each player to stake his head to the other. Reinold would be sufficiently punished, in Ganelon’s eyes, by the pain his brother’s death would cause him. Ludwig agreed to the plan with alacrity. Adelhart, on receiving the challenge, declined to play on such terms, saying that if he won, he could not raise his hand against the life of his future liege lord; but Ludwig would not listen to any excuse, saying he would have him proclaimed a coward if he did not consent. So the young hero gave way, much against his will.
A few minutes later the two men were seated opposite each other before a chess-board, while three of the courtiers, who had been chosen umpires, stood beside the table and watched the players. Five games were to be played. The chess-men on the one side were made of gold, those on the other of silver. Ludwig, who played with the golden chess-men, had the first move. The five stipulated games were played one after the other, and in each of the five, Ludwig was check-mated. The umpires were silent. The king swept the pieces together impatiently, and when Adelhart said he had only played for the sake of his life and honour, that the head of his king was sacred in his eyes, Ludwig caught up the chess-board and flung it in his face with such force that the blood flowed from his mouth and nose, and stained his garments.
The hero instantly rose and withdrew. As he crossed the courtyard, his brother Reinold hastened to meet him, and asked what was the matter. On learning what had taken place, the younger brother was very angry. He gave orders that all should be got ready for their departure, and sent a servant to tell his father and brothers to come down to their horses. Then, turning to Adelhart, he said he would fetch him the prize he had won. Signing to his brother to follow him, he at once directed his steps to the throne-room, where the emperor was seated with his knights and nobles about him. Ludwig and the umpires were there also. Reinold advanced to the throne, and told Karl the whole story, asking the umpires if it were not so. Two of them were afraid, and held their peace; but the third boldly avowed the truth. Reinold, upon this, drew his sword Flammberg, and with one stroke severed Ludwig’s head from his body. Almost before the spectators could draw breath, the brothers had left the room. On reaching the courtyard, they at once mounted their horses and rode away, accompanied by Haymon and the rest of their party.
They were pursued on the instant. The men-at-arms came up with them outside the town gates, and a battle ensued. From the first there seemed to be very little chance for Count Haymon and his sons. They had but a few men-at-arms to support them, and the enemy’s numbers increased every minute. Their men were at last all slain, and so were all their horses, except Bayard, which bore bold Reinold here, there, and everywhere with equal speed and safety. At length, seeing that further contest was useless, Reinold called to his father and brothers to mount behind him on Bayard. The three brothers lost no time in obeying him but Haymon was so hemmed in by the press of people that he could not move. Although bearing a fourfold burden, Bayard galloped away as lightly and easily as if he had had nothing on his back.
