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
be my seconds.”
The knights mentioned immediately gave their consent. Maugis was at
once liberated. Here Roland came forward, saying:
“Sire! I beg thee that I may be allowed to take thy place in the coming
duel.”
“I cannot consent,” responded Charlemagne.
“And it please thy majesty,” cried Maugis, “right willingly will I
accept him as thy substitute.”
“Then be it so,” replied Charlemagne.
Maugis then quickly mounted his horse, saluted all present, departed,
having previously taken leave of his new friends, all promising to meet
at the rendezvous fixed for the duel on the following day.
Upon the return of Maugis to Montaubon, his people, thinking peace
had been concluded, greeted him with congratulations and rejoicings;
he only pausing long enough on it to thank them warmly, hastened to
Yolande, who from the time of his departure had suffered a constant
inquietude; after reassuring her, he turned to his brothers, saying:
“My friends, on the morrow I go to engage in a most terrible combat
with one of the bravest of knights. Shall I conquer? I know not! If I
succumb, in the name of the love which you have always had for me, I
commend to your care my wife and my children; save them from the rage
of Charlemagne. I have right on my side. My courage is equal to that of
Roland. I have confidence in divine justice, but against all that I may
fall.”
At these words everyone had tears in their eyes though they tried to
conceal them, and the three brothers of Maugis insisted that Renaud
should be left in command of Montaubon while they accompanied him to
the field of the combat.
CHAPTER XIV.
When the next day had come, Roland early sought the emperor to take
leave of him. He was armed and ready to depart, but before quitting he
besought Charlemagne to have the grace to accord to Maugis and the four
sons of Aymon the peace they had so long asked for, no matter what the
issue of the coming combat might be, but Charlemagne, though depressed
by sad reflections and by the thought of the evil consequences that had
come from the bad advice he had received, made no reply.
A little later, when Maugis arrived on the field, he found Roland
already there. It was a superb day; the renown of the two knights,
their bravery, and their skill with arms, made the outcome of the
duel uncertain. A vast concourse of knights had assembled to witness
the contest, and a deep hush of expectancy fell upon all when the two
knights advanced toward each other on the field to begin the duel.
“I am now here,” said Roland, addressing Maugis, “to lay you in the
dust; you have thought yourself invincible long enough; but to-day you
will find that I am your master.”
“Be moderate, Roland,” replied Maugis; “one is never sure, even the
bravest knight may be overcome by one weaker than himself.”
“I will maintain my word, I think, Maugis,” shouted Roland; “defend
yourself, for your last hour is come.”
At these words they charged each other, lance at rest, with great
fury. At the very first shock the lances were shattered, and their
shields were broken. Roland wavered in his saddle, and with difficulty
maintained himself erect, while Maugis, unhorsed, fell twenty steps
behind Bayard; but he was on his feet like a flash, and he mounted his
horse with incredible agility, and sweeping down upon Roland, gave
him a terrible blow with his sword, which, landing on his helmet,
completely stunned him. Maugis, however, withdrew, giving him time to
recover, and then they rushed anew at each other. Now ensued a battle
of giants, which no words can adequately describe; the spectators
were appalled by its ferocity; the dreadful blows they dealt each
other were slowly denuding them of their armor piece by piece; sparks
flew like lightning from the terrible flashing of their swords; but
furious as the combat was, so skillful were they each, that neither
one could deal the other a fatal blow. It was a magnificent contest,
evoking cries of admiration from all sides; there could be but one
end to their terrible exertion; becoming fatigued, they seized each
other body to body and tried to throw each the other from his horse.
It was impossible; breathless and almost helpless with fatigue,
mutually astonished that neither could conquer the other, they waited
a few moments to regain breath, each so battered as to be almost
unrecognizable, they having left only fragments of their arms and but a
few pieces of their clothing.
The onlookers to this heroic duel felt they would like to have the
fight ended then and there, and were so evenly divided by admiration
for each of the combatants that they could not say whom they would have
the victor. The emperor himself, all his sympathies aroused, felt that
he would even give his crown to have the fight ended here, and was
about to shout an order to have the duel stopped as the two combatants
approached each other to recommence the battle.
Before he could utter a sound, however, an astonishing sight greeted
his eyes. Instead of beginning hostilities as they neared each other,
the two knights, as if with one common impulse and actuated by the same
sentiment, let their arms fall and then and there embraced each other.
Maugis said to Roland:
“Brave cousin! you have shown the greatest courage; neither one of us
can conquer the other; we each seem to have the same strength, the
same skill, and the same courage. God never made us to be enemies, but
to be friends; let it be so. Come to Montaubon and be my guest; you
will receive there all the consideration, honor and respect that are
due you.”
The spectators had lost nothing of this scene; a great demonstration
of applause ensued, and cheer after cheer rent the air when the two
knights were seen to embrace. Two men only did not participate in the
public joy; they were Pinabel, the scheming nephew of Charlemagne, and
Ganelon, his traitorous associate.
“What means this?” said the astonished emperor.
“Simply this,” replied Pinabel: “by some vile sorcery Maugis hath
ensnared Roland and is bearing him to Montaubon.”
“By St. Gris!” roared the emperor, furious. “I will never brook such
insult, on to Montaubon! on to Montaubon!” he shouted to his knights.
“I will take Roland by force from the hands of this rebel Maugis.”
But the confusion in which the spectators and knights were mingled
made it impossible to execute immediately any hostile movement of this
kind, and Charlemagne, fuming and almost blind with rage, was forced
to see Roland depart with Maugis, and he returned to his camp with
the determination to draw a cordon around the walls of Montaubon and
commence an immediate siege.
Meanwhile, Maugis, accompanied by Roland, and escorted by his brothers,
had quietly entered the citadel, where Roland was received with all
honors, and was greeted on all hands as the first knight of the world.
It was a singular situation the enraged Charlemagne had to meet;
continually stirred with rage by the evil advisers who had his ear on
one hand, and on the other hand urged by the influential men of his
court, who, lost in admiration of the brave struggle of the four sons
of Aymon, regarded an honorable peace to them to be the proper course
for the emperor to pursue. The next day, a delegation of knights waited
upon him and stated that it was the general demand that such should
be granted; they so appealed to the good sense of Charlemagne that he
would have undoubtedly, then and there, yielded and acquiesced to the
general demand.
Never had the position of the conspirators who had heretofore been
successful in preventing the good understanding between Charlemagne and
the four sons of Aymon been so perilous. The Abbé Gorieux, Ganelon and
Pinabel held a hasty consultation.
“Now what shall be done,” said Ganelon, biting his lips.
“It is hopeless! I cannot see that anything can be done,” said Pinabel,
grinding his teeth and clinching his hands, for he had a consuming
hatred of Maugis, that one of his vile character could only have of
a nature more noble. Within him hate had fed upon hate, until his one
thought was how to wreak vengeance upon its object.
“Delay, my friend; our hope is in delay,” the smooth voice of the
crafty abbé interposed. “Do thou now, Pinabel, influence the emperor to
postpone his decision in this matter; it will give us chance to work
our ends; indeed, it is our only hope,” he added despairingly.
Pinabel at once hurried to the emperor, saying:
“Sire, grant this peace, which is no doubt the proper course to pursue,
for such a great war is surely impious,” he added hypocritically;
“therefore, it indeed were well to grant the peace we all desire, only
decide not hastily; take all means to assure thyself that this course
will be appreciated by the rebellious sons of Aymon, that they will
faithfully fulfill all conditions you may impose, and properly carry
out the penances it is right they should suffer; what these conditions
should be, what penances proper, it would be foolish to hastily decide;
let us therefore use deliberation, that the realization of all our
hopes, the peace that is so dear to us all, may be secured upon a firm
and unchangeable basis.”
This apparently candid, disinterested advice deceived the emperor, and
he put off making a decision that day. Then the old scheme, which had
succeeded so often before, was brought into use. The emperor, however,
was not so easily worked upon as he had formerly been; he, himself, had
become tired with the war and strife, and although excessively enraged
by his inability to conquer the redoubtable knights D’Aymon, and by
their continued humiliation of him, he was too wise a monarch not to
see the advantage of an honorable peace. Consequently the task of the
conspirators was no light one.
All day long one or another of the conspirators sought him, each
dropping some poisoned suggestion in his ear, calculated to arouse his
anger and cast doubt upon the honorable intentions of Maugis and his
brothers. There was not wanting insinuations that Maugis was a minion
of Satan, and that the very existence of so powerful a sorcerer was not
only a threat to the life and well-being of the emperor, but to the
very kingdom itself.
“He should be promptly and utterly destroyed,” declared Ganelon.
“Sire,” added Pinabel persuasively, “admitting the truth, is, that
these fears are due to our personal devotion to you, which lead us to
suggest them, and supposing even that our anticipations are due to an
ardent zeal, surely the pardon you propose to grant the sons of Aymon
would establish a bad precedent. Who knows?”
“They have not feared to be false to their oath to their prince; they
have revolted and openly made war on you; can any one sustain the
example of the sons of Aymon? Each one invites your pardon only to
serve his own ends. You will, of course, sire, do what seemeth best in
your great wisdom; but even if thou dost pardon the four sons of Aymon,
one of them should be given up to thee for punishment.”
If Charlemagne, thus persuaded by the conspirators, had discussed this
advice in the presence of all, there can be no doubt the result of
these negotiations for peace would have been far different from that
which followed.
The next day the emperor, when everybody was assembled, the peers and
all the courtiers and the four brothers, declared to the sons of Aymon
that he had decided to pardon them.
“I have one proviso,” said the emperor firmly, “that is, after thou
hast fulfilled thy promises, thou shall deliver thy Cousin Renaud into
my hands to be punished as an example. This is my final decision, and
nought shall change it.”
“Ah, well, sire,” cried Maugis sadly; “if this is all that thou wilt