Maugis, ye sorcerer from ye ancient French : a wonderful tale from ye writings of ye mad savant of ye Maison Maugis in ye olde citie of Mouzon, France
the place of execution. All along the road Richard watched anxiously
to see if he could see some friendly face that would give to him the
promise of a rescue, but seeing none, he commenced to despair, and
made the resolve to accept his fate, asking for a priest to assist
him in his last moments. This Des Rives refused, but Oger, who formed
part of the escort, became indignant and roundly denounced the
dastardly nephew of Foulques de Morillon, for he, himself, was honest
and upright, and would have granted the request; he was even about to
see that it was done, when at this instant they were set upon by the
soldiers of Maugis and taken completely by surprise.
The cowardly Des Rives then threw himself at the feet of his prisoner
and abjectly protested that he had only acted in the manner he had done
at the command of his superiors, that he was even forced into doing so
upon the penalty of his life. Strange drift of circumstances it was,
that he, the executioner, should thus supplicate to Richard as if he
himself were the condemned.
Meanwhile, Alard and Guichard had hemmed in the imperial troops, but
not before Oger, Turpin and Olivier had made their escape, leaving
Ganelon and Pinabel, the low companions of Des Rives, to extricate
themselves the best they could.
Renaud, who had captured Des Rives, would have then and there slain
him, but Maugis dissuaded him. Then being made aware how Des Rives had
volunteered to perform a cowardly action so unworthy of knighthood,
he ordered him to prepare himself for his final punishment. In vain
the coward threw himself at his feet and begged for mercy. Maugis
was unpitying, and Des Rives was forthwith strung from the very
gibbet that was destined for Richard. Before re-entering the fortress
Maugis wished to see his Cousin Oger, but found he had returned to
the imperial camp. Then Richard, so recently freed, smarting from
the indignities offered him, volunteered to make a sortie into the
camp of his unsuspecting enemies, and penetrate even to the tent of
Charlemagne. Maugis, thinking this possible, consented, and gave him an
escort of five hundred men, and he also hung about his brother’s neck
his own horn, at a signal from which he promised to come to his rescue,
if necessary, with the main body of his troops.
By means of a more direct route, Richard and his company were enabled
to arrive at the camp of the emperor before the fugitives of Des Rives’
escort could arrive. Stationing his troops at some little distance
away, mounted on the horse of Des Rives, disguised by his armor, and
holding in his hand the banner of the traitor, Richard penetrated
boldly into the camp as far as the tent of the emperor, who, mistaking
him for the villain, had no doubt but that the execution had been
accomplished. Naimes, who had remained at the camp, did not doubt that
it was really Des Rives. Oger, Turpin, and Olivier, who had retreated
when Maugis surrounded the imperial escort, thought it might be
Pinabel, who, having escaped, was returning. A perfect storm of insult
was then hurled at the head of the supposed Des Rives. In a paroxysm of
rage, Oger rushed forward, grasped the bridle of his horse, drew his
sword and threatened him with death. It was in vain Charlemagne tried
to calm him, and Richard was finally forced to speak, saying, as he
raised the visor of his helmet:
“All is well, my dear cousin; it is not the coward Des Rives whom you
address; it is your cousin, who once more exposes his life to render to
you his thanks for the great service you would have rendered him.”
Transported with joy, Oger was hastening to embrace him, when
Charlemagne interposed himself between them; flying into violent rage,
he pushed his horse against that of Richard, and he aimed at Richard a
violent blow with his sword, which the latter succeeded in parrying,
then put himself on the defensive. Now, thoroughly furious, the emperor
cried:
“Montjoie!” in stentorian tone.
At the sound of this famous war-cry, the camp was aroused, and the
imperial soldiers came rushing toward the tent, but Richard had by this
time given the signal from his horn and his nine hundred men came upon
the scene, precipitately to the rescue.
The _mêlée_ then became general; all the pent-up hatreds and passions
and prejudices came uppermost. By chance, Charlemagne and Maugis met
and charged upon each other with fury, and with such force that they
unhorsed each other; then, sword in hand, they renewed the action on
foot, without either gaining any advantage; the great warrior emperor,
whose arms were celebrated as being invincible, little accustomed to
meeting such sturdy resistance, manifested his astonishment aloud. At
the sound of his well-known voice, Maugis, who had not recognized the
emperor, his face being concealed by his visor, immediately lowered his
sword, approached and kneeled before him to the earth.
“Sire!” said he humbly, “accord me a truce and I will engage my
knightly word you will never again have cause of complaint against me,
only I ask not to have any of my privileges taken from me, except by
due legal process.”
“Who art thou?” demanded the astonished emperor; “to whom am I asked to
give my word?”
“I am Maugis,” responded the knight, “and I ask you for pardon for
me and mine, assuring you it is not the fear of being conquered that
causes me to make this supplication; it is because I desire to enter
into good relations with you and to once more put to your service my
courage and my sword.”
It was not without a certain reluctance that the emperor consented to
talk with a man whom he detested, but at the same time admired.
“I will grant thee peace, only on one condition,” he sternly replied.
“Sire, if thou wouldst but name it.”
“That condition is,” responded the emperor; “thou shalt deliver up to
me thy cousin Renaud.”
“But, sire,” said Maugis pleadingly, “even did I not love my cousin I
could not be so lost to honor as to deliver him up, even if it were to
redeem my own brother from death.”
“Then I will promise nothing,” thundered the emperor, “but war, and war
all the time. Defend thyself,” he shouted, “I will, at least, permit
thee to fight with me.”
Saying this, Charlemagne rushed upon Maugis and struck him such a
terrible blow with his sword that the shield of Maugis was shivered.
Transported with rage, Maugis, in his turn, threw himself upon the
emperor, and dragging him from his horse, held him in a herculean
grasp, in his left hand, while with his right he fought all who came to
the rescue of his prey. At this juncture Roland came up and attacked
Maugis so fiercely that to defend himself he was obliged to set loose
his royal prisoner. Then, freeing himself to fight, he turned upon
Roland and, seconded by his brothers, forced him to take flight to save
himself from being captured. Furious to have been compelled to yield to
the emperor, Maugis sounded the retreat, and with his troops returned
to the château in good order.
His blood now thoroughly aroused, on the morning of the next day Maugis
took three thousand men with him and again directed a movement against
the camp of Charlemagne, resolved this time to penetrate to his very
tent and master him.
So sudden was their movement, and so unanticipated, that by a furious
charge he was able to penetrate to the very portal of the royal
pavilion. Maugis surmounted it and with one stroke of the sword severed
the golden eagle at its apex, and descended to the earth safely, where
he was met by his cousin Renaud, and together they secured their prize.
The four sons of Aymon were, in the meantime, surrounded by a multitude
of confused imperial soldiers, whom they threw down and slew without
pity.
Thinking this a favorable moment, Renaud alone retired from the fight
to secure a hiding place for the golden eagle, and returned hastily,
only to find that the brothers had gone. He next encountered Olivier
and Roland, but turning his horse and evading their strokes, he took
flight, not realizing how close a pursuit was following him. Near
Belancon, he thought to rest, when suddenly he found himself in the
midst of a troop who were pursuing him with desperation. Impatient with
a pursuit so incessant, Renaud turned and made a terrible charge upon
the leader of his enemies, who, however, did not await his onslaught,
but met him halfway, and with a stroke of his lance wounded the
intrepid Renaud, throwing him from his horse. Renaud, half-stunned,
arose and vigorously defended himself, and with such great energy that
Olivier cried out to him:
“Yield, brave knight, you court inevitable death; it were a pity to
hide such courage and such valor in the obscurity of death.”
“Who art thou,” exclaimed Renaud, “who summons me to surrender, and who
fights so fiercely?”
“I am Olivier, and to place yourself in my power is no disgrace;
therefore yield, I pray you.”
“I accept,” replied Renaud; “but on one condition, and that is, that,
if I give myself up, it be agreed I am your prisoner and your prisoner
only; it being well understood that no matter what order you may
receive, or what importance the person is who gives it, you are not to
deliver me up; this is the sole condition I impose.”
“I give thee my knightly word,” said Olivier.
“I know you well, Olivier,” continued Renaud, “and I was certain in
advance what your reply would be. Know me now, I am Renaud, and you may
understand why I make these conditions, as Charlemagne is my bitter
enemy.”
Olivier took Renaud to his camp, helped him off with his armor, bathed
his wounds, and placed him in his own bed.
When the news of the capture of Renaud reached the ears of the emperor,
he sent an officer to Olivier, commanding him to deliver his prisoner.
Olivier, though loyally anxious to obey the orders of his sovereign,
was restrained by the conditions Renaud had made when he surrendered
himself; he therefore hastened to the emperor to explain.
“Sire,” said Olivier, “I have given my word not to yield my prisoner,
and thou knowest I am a man who never violates his promise.”
“S’death!” cried Charlemagne in a rage; “knowest thou, sir, that the
first duty of a knight is to submit without restrictions to the orders
of his king, and that all other oaths are as nothing before the oath of
fidelity to his master.”
After Olivier had retired, the emperor bethought him that he had a
means whereby the scruples of Olivier might be overcome. He accordingly
ordered Roland, the Archbishop Turpin, and the Duke de Naimes, to take
Renaud from Olivier by force, thinking Olivier would accept this as
releasing him from his word, inasmuch as Renaud would be taken from
him by compulsion. Olivier, however, thought otherwise when the three
envoys appeared at his tent, demanding Renaud; he drew his sword, and
swore he would kill any man who endeavored to execute that order, even
if he were the bravest in the army.
Renaud, who had overheard all this contention, not being willing that
Olivier should meet with disgrace on his account, then came forward and
said:
“Sir knights, I place myself in your hands, and hereby disengage
Olivier of his word.”
“I also disengage thee of thine,” cried Olivier, not to be outdone in
generosity; “you may take your liberty,” continued he, “because you are
my prisoner and mine only, and no person here has any right to you.”
Charlemagne was furious; he ordered the rearrest of Renaud at once, and
ordered him to be brought into his presence. Said he:
“I shall recognize no pledges made to thee, prepare to die; nothing
shall save you, now that you are in my power. I vow to you a death of
the most frightful and degrading kind.”
Having said this, the emperor gave an order for his heralds to go