CHAPTER III. CHARLEMAGNE'S CORTEGE.
CHARLEMAGNE determined to celebrate the fortunate issue of his campaign.Jousts and tourneys were organised, and heralds were sent out farand wide; and before long knights began to pour in from the variousprovinces: some to show their courage and exercise their strength andskill, others in the hope of enriching themselves with the spoils oftheir vanquished adversaries.
The spot chosen for the tournament was an extent of velvet swardsituated at the edge of a forest of oaks that were five hundred yearsold. A semi-circle of low hills formed a sort of amphitheatre, in thecentre of which a vast area, reserved for the combatants, was surroundedwith palisades. There were two entrances to the lists--one on the north,the other on the south--each wide enough to admit of the passage of sixknights on horseback abreast. Two heralds and six pursuivants had chargeof each of these entries. Small detachments were scattered about hereand there to maintain order--no easy task, for the inhabitants of thesurrounding country, with their wives, had assembled from all quartersalongside of the camp. On them it was difficult to impress a dueobservance of discipline, and the unmanageable came in for showers ofblows that were not laid on less heavily because it was a conqueredcountry.
On a level space not far from the northern gate were raised twelvegorgeous pavilions, reserved for the twelve principal French championswho held the lists. Pennons with their colours, and those of theirlady-loves, fluttering in the wind, waved in the sunlight like flyingserpents. Each knight had his shield suspended before his tent, underthe charge of a squire.
Further off, less costly tents served as lodgings for numerous warriors,who were drawn together either by friendship or want of means. Thiscommunity formed a quaint sort of town, which had, as it were,suburbs consisting of stable-sheds, and huts of all sorts, occupiedby armourers, farriers, surgeons, and artisans, whose presence on suchoccasions was indispensable. Merchants at these times were exempted fromall tolls and taxes, and accordingly the Jews had come to sell Venetiantrinkets and Oriental perfumes to the ladies; the Bretons brought theirhoney for sale, and the Provencals displayed their clear olive oil; andamid all these good things were to be seen, rambling about at random,jugglers, troubadours, minstrels, and all other classes of poorBohemians, whose wits are sharp if their purses are scant. On theborders of the wood was erected a pavilion more magnificent than all theothers--it was that of Charlemagne; it was of cloth of gold, with purplestripes, powdered with gold eagles, and it was so bright that one wouldhave needed the eye of an eagle to support its lustre for an instant.All about it were knights, squires, lackeys, and pages, coming and goingas thickly as bees in a hive around their queen. On either side of theroyal tent, and all along the edge of the forest, were erected seatsfor the spectators of rank, who promised to be numerous. They flocked-inevery hour in crowds, so delighted were they with spectacles ofthis description, and, above all, so desirous were they of beholdingCharlemagne, whose name had already begun to resound through Europe. Theroyal box, more lofty than the others, and more richly decorated, was alittle in front of the tent. Charlemagne had ordained that the Queen ofBeauty should share this with him, in order that she might be surroundedby the most valiant knights and the most lovely ladies. The two retinuesattended on her amid incessant peals of mirth and merriment.
Finally, my dear readers, to finish the picture, figure to yourselves,situated half-way between the lists and the forest, and surmounted bya huge iron cross, a Gothic chapel, in which, each morning, Turpin, thegood and gallant Bishop of Rheims, officiated as priest in the presenceof the kneeling multitude.
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At length the day of the tournament arrived. There had been many joustsbefore, but never had there been one of equal magnificence. From theearliest dawn the places were all occupied. Even the old trees were asthickly loaded with curious spectators as a plum-tree in August; and thegood folks were right to crowd so, for had they lived their lives sixtimes over, they would never have seen anything equal to the sightagain, it was absolutely necessary for the soldiers to lay aboutwith their pike-staves, in order to calm the eager ardour of the mostenthusiastic; but nobody took any notice of thumps that, under any othercircumstances, would have been received with an ill grace.
All of a sudden a flourish of trumpets made the air resound. Aglittering advanced-guard entered the enclosure and took up theirposition, and then Charlemagne entered the arena at the head of anumerous escort of knights and nobles, and of ecclesiastics in richvestments. Enthusiasm knew no bounds. "Montjoie! Montjoie!" resoundedon every side. Charlemagne, who later in life affected the greatestsimplicity in dress, had assumed for this great occasion the mostbrilliant attire. His shirt was of fine linen, its border enrichedwith gold embroidery. His tunic was of silk, plated with gold, and wascovered with precious stones of surpassing brightness--emeralds, rubies,and topaz. His armlets and girdle were chased with the most exquisiteart, and his alms-pouch, which hung at his side, was besprinkled withpearls and gems enough to dazzle a blind man. His brow was bound witha glittering diadem. His whole figure shone with an unaccustomedsplendour, and he greatly surpassed in magnificence the grandest ofhis dukes, counts, or barons. His steed, covered with gold and richtrappings, seemed proud of the burthen it carried.
The Queen Himiltrude, a Frank by birth, advanced in the midst of herattendants. Her neck was tinged with a delicate rose, like that of aRoman matron in former ages. Her locks were bound about her templeswith gold and purple bands; her robe was looped up with ruby clasps. Hercoronet and her purple robes gave her an air of surpassing majesty. Shewas a worthy queen of Charlemagne. But if the queen surpassed all otherwomen in nobleness of mien, Aude, the niece of Gerard of Vienne, andsister of Oliver the Brave, surpassed her as much by her beauty, hergrace, and her attractiveness. She wore a light crown, embossed withjewels of all colours. Her hair was fair, falling naturally intobecoming curls; her eyes were blue as the sea of the south; hercomplexion was pink, like the heart of a white rose; and her hands weremarvellously small. As she passed Roland, she turned slightly pale. Ifshe had been less lovely, I should have said more about her rich attire;but what is the use, since nobody notices it? The queen must have beenvery strong-minded, to retain so charming a lady of honour about herperson. On seeing the beautiful Aude, every one said, "There, or I'lldie for it, is the Queen of Beauty!"
Aude had near her her sister Mita, fair as herself, but slightly brownedby the Spanish sun under which she had been brought up. Two black eyes,full lips, a finely-cut and regular nose, hair hanging down entwinedwith long strings of threaded pearls and diamonds--there you have herportrait in a few words.
Her bodice was covered with small pearls; yu might have called it apearl corslet. Indeed, those who saw her pass, admiring her martialbearing and her rich breastplate, gave her the nickname of "the littleknight in pearl."
After Aude and her sister came a bevy of beautiful young girls, but thepeople hardly cared to look at them.
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At last came the peers and barons, clad in their most splendid armour.What a clash of gold, iron, and steel! How many swords that had wonrenown! Every one of these puissant arms was worth ten ordinary knightsin the tourney-ground--in battle worth a thousand!
It is difficult to explain the agility displayed by these men under sucha formidable weight of armour. An ox in these days could scarcely carryone of them. The helmet alone weighed a hundred and twenty-five pounds.They handled like playthings swords which we can hardly lift. "At thebattle of Hastings," says Robert Wace, "Taillefer threw his up, andcaught it as if it had been a light stick." The horses were as powerfulas the men. Reared in the rich pastures of the Rhine borders or Bavaria,high-standing and big-chested, they often took part in the contest,tearing with their splendid teeth the enemies of their masters. As soonas they were broken they were clad in iron, to protect them againstjavelins, spears, and swords.
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Last of all appeared Roland, Count of Mans and Knight of Blaives, sonof Duke Milo of Ai
glant, and of Bertha, the sister of Charlemagne. Youwould have taken him for a statue of iron and marble. His right handbrandished a spear that in these days would serve for the mast of afrigate; his left reposed on his faithful sword Durandal. I know of noone to whom to compare him but the Archangel Michael. His air is at onceterrible and tender: should one love him or fear him? He is of such amajestic, awe-inspiring presence, that one can hardly be astonished atany wonders he performs. He appears to belong to a race that is morethan human, and you would hardly be surprised were he to drag a starfrom its sphere or seize a comet by the beard. He is of the sameheight as Charlemagne, but more imposing in figure and gait. His opencountenance invites confidence and inspires respect. When Roland givesa man his hand, the lucky fellow, who is thus honoured as with a royalfavour, feels, in the pride of having achieved such a distinction, agreater confidence in his own worth. Roland is mounted on Veillantif,the only horse in the world worthy of such a rider.
Close at hand is Oliver, Count of Genes, the brother of the beautifulAude. He is hardly second to Roland in strength, in agility, and inappearance. At his side gleams Haute-Claire, and he is mounted onFerrant d'Espagne, a steed that darts straight towards the foe like anarrow. Then follow Duke Oger, Richard of Normandy, Thibault of Rheims,Guy of Burgundy, Ogier the Dane, Duke Naimes of Bavaria, Girard ofMontdidier, Bernard, the uncle of Charlemagne; Miton of Rennes, thefriend of Roland; William of Orange, with the short nose, whose namemade evil-doers tremble (as you have trembled, little people, at thename of Bogey!); besides a thousand others, not forgetting Turpin, thegood Archbishop of Rheims, so learned in the council-hall, so piousin the cathedral, so brave on the field of battle. Turpin was armedin warlike fashion; his rosary and his mace hung side by side; in thehandle of the latter was enclosed a precious relic, a bone of St. Clet.He could not wield a sword, for his religion forbade him to shed blood;but it is a fact that his mace weighed a hundred and fifty pounds.
Near Charlemagne was to be seen Wolf, Duke of Gascony--Wolf, who soldhis guest and his family--Wolf, who was without a rival in treachery,except Ganelon. Oh, how you will hate the pair of them, my friends,if you read my story to the end! Wolf was chiefly noticeable for hisarmour, which was of browned steel, damasked with silver, and which hehad purchased of the Saracens in Spain. He is more terrible in peacethan in war, and his favourite weapon is the gallows. He was less fearedby his enemies than by his subjects, and would sooner knock a man downwith a blow of his fist than say, "Thank you." He was noted for hisingenuity in matters of torture, and has the credit of being theoriginator of the plan of tying wetted ropes round the temples of hisprisoners to make their eyeballs start out of their sockets. It was he,too, who had them sewed up in freshly-stript bulls' hides, and exposedto the sun until the hides in shrinking broke their bones. But what isthe most awful to tell is that no one had ever seen him in a rage. Hewas cruel in cold blood from inclination and appetite. The smell ofblood delighted him more than frankincense or verbena. Charlemagnehardly spoke to him, and it was with difficulty that he could preventhis dislike of him from appearing.
Count Ganelon, of Mayence, was not quite so base a savage. At allevents, his bravery was unquestionable; he could be a useful councillor,and if the envy with which Roland inspired him had not driven him toevil deeds, he might have been one of the foremost of Charlemagne'sfollowers. A lover of solitude, a taciturn and even savage man, anirreligious unbeliever in all noble sentiments--such was Ganelon inmoral disposition. Need I say he had no friends? In height he was hardlysix feet and a half, and he wished all those who were taller than hewas, even by the breadth of a line, were of his height. His eyes glaredfrom beneath the shadow of his fiery locks, like those of a savagehound. He loved gold only to hoard it, and affected great poverty.You would have thought him one of Attila's Huns rather than one of thepaladins of Charlemagne's court. Ganelon could not forgive Roland forhaving rendered him a service on several occasions. The superiority ofCharlemagne's nephew drove him mad. This may, perhaps, surprise some,of the younger of my readers, but it is too true that to evil mindsgratitude is displeasing and troublesome. But I had better make youacquainted with the particular grievances of the Count of Mayence.
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