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 Lord Gilhooley 25703 downlo

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Title: 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

Author: Lord Gilhooley

Release date: September 25, 2025 [eBook #76929]

Language: English

Original publication: London: F. Tennyson Neely, 1898

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/76929

Credits: Aaron Adrignola, Robert Tonsing, and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was
produced from images made available by the HathiTrust Digital
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MAUGIS, YE
SORCERER ***

THE MYSTERIOUS DOOR.

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.

By LORD GILHOOLEY, D.C.,
Author of “Yutzo.”

F. TENNYSON NEELY,
PUBLISHER,
LONDON. NEW YORK.

Copyright, 1898,
by
F. Tennyson Neely,
in
United States
and
Great Britain.

All Rights Reserved.

DEDICATION.
TO THE FOOLS WHO COMPOSE THE “SOCIETE

D’ETHNOGRAPHIE” OF NANCY, FRANCE,

THIS WORK IS HEREBY DEDICATED.

APOLOGY.
To the Honorable Gentlemen composing the Société d’Ethnographie,
Nancy, France.
Gentlemen: In the above dedication I have the sincerest regret in
committing, what under other circumstances would be an unpardonable
insult upon the gentlemen of a learned body, none of whom I have ever had
the honor of meeting, but whose position in the world of science and letters
I know to be perfectly unassailable. Let me explain.
An oath, made to the late Charles Voudran, a former member of your
Honorable Society, has compelled this regrettable action, which, otherwise,
would have resulted in the loss of a vast amount of rare historical
information to the world, as, I trust, a perusal of the following pages, will
satisfactorily explain.
With the most profound respect,
Frederick O’Hoolihan.
(LORD GILHOOLEY.)

CONTENTS.

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
CHAPTER I.
CHAPTER II.
CHAPTER III.
CHAPTER IV.
CHAPTER V.
CHAPTER VI.
CHAPTER VII.
CHAPTER VIII.
CHAPTER IX.
CHAPTER X.
CHAPTER XI.
CHAPTER XII.
CHAPTER XIII.
CHAPTER XIV.
CHAPTER XV.
CHAPTER XVI.
CHAPTER XVII.
CHAPTER XVIII.

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

PAGE.

The Mysterious Door, Frontispiece
Interior Cathedral, Mouzon, 12
The Haunted Battlefield, 32
Ancient Gate of Mouzon, 52
Château Montfort, 70
Surprise of the Castle, 76
Old Spanish Houses, 100
Maugis, 120
Charlemagne at the head of his Army, 124
Ye Olde City of Mouzon, 164
Cathedral of Mouzon, 216
Cathedral Door, Mouzon, 244

MAUGIS, YE SORCERER.

CHAPTER I.
(A CABLEGRAM.)
SEDAN,
PROVINCE D’ARDENNES,
FRANCE.
“To Lord Gilhooley,
“Albemarle Hotel,
“New York. U. S. A.
“The hermit of the Maison Maugis, Monzon, committed suicide to-day.
Albert.”

Apropos of the above, about ten days later I received a letter from which
the following is an extract:
“He was found lying, entirely stripped, upon the floor. He had strangled himself
with a cord, having previously broken up every article of furniture, gathered and
burned in the huge fireplace every object of wearing apparel, all papers and
everything movable, until the house was made absolutely bare. His death created a
profound sensation, as it was rumored that he had in his possession some very old and
curious manuscripts relating to the time of Charlemagne. An elaborate search of the
premises failed to disclose anything, except some burned fragments of parchment in
the ashes of the fireplace. He had jealously guarded his discovery during his life and
was supposed to be somewhat demented, which may account for the lamentable
destruction of these precious records. Now you are freed from your oath, give the
world what you have.”

The past then came back to me, as plainly as if it had only occurred
yesterday.
I could see in my mind that merry breakfast party, three months agone, in
the great dining hall of the Château Baudelot at Haraucourt, in the valley of
the Emmene, Ardennes, France. I could remember, as if it happened only
this morning, when Albert said:
“It is very strange how things happen in this world. Life presents some
threads so fearfully tangled that it often seems as if matters were hopeless;
when lo, some little eddy in the tide of fortune swirls the knotted kinks
apart and all is well once more.”
“Very good, Albert,” said I, “and this is apropos of what?”

“Oh, nothing,” answered he, “only the thought just came into my mind.”
“Perhaps,” said his sister Mathilde, “his omelette is not agreeing with
him.”
“No,” exclaimed Louise, “that is not it—he is going to take cousin
Frederick to Mouzon to-day, and it is there that some episode is to occur to
put some new wrinkles in his existence.”
Said with smiles and laughter, these words were pathetic.
I shall never forget that day in Mouzon.
I recall how, just two hours later, we crossed the bridge over the river
Meuse, and rolled through the old gateway into the ancient city, and how,
shortly after, we were chatting with Professor Victor d’Alembert, the head
schoolmaster.
“I have brought my cousin to see the city,” said Albert.
“Ah! Mouzon is a quaint place,” responded the professor, his face
lighting up with interest. “It is a small city, but a very old one, and so very
romantic. Come with me. I will show it to you.”
Then he took us up and down crooked streets, lined with mediæval
buildings, heavily walled, with projecting stories, possessing all the
quaintness of former ages, and it was while passing through a narrow street
to a square in the heart of the city, where the houses seemed the oldest, the
oddest and the grayest, that he pointed to a heavy oaken door set in a wall
of unusual thickness.
“Look!” he said.
“At what?” inquired Albert.
“That is said to have been the home of Maugis, the famous warrior
sorcerer.”
“Very interesting,” exclaimed I, “cannot we see the interior?”
“No, no!” replied the professor somewhat emphatically, “that would
never do, its occupant resents intrusion bitterly.”
I can remember now, how a strange and unaccountable desire possessed
me to see behind that door, but it was almost forgotten, when, a few minutes

later, we were seated in the dim interior of the ancient cathedral with its
lofty gothic arches floating over us in the obscurity, while the schoolmaster
eloquently unrolled a story of vicissitude and romance rarely equaled, for
he was a master of his subject.
Said he: “Begun by barbarians, built, beset, beleaguered, burned, built,
beset, burned, and rebuilt, again and again; such is the alliterative history of
this old city of Mouzon; the theater of wars barbarous, of wars religious, of
wars civil, and wars international; besides of plague, pest, and famine.
“Mouzon has a history commencing far back into the shadows of the past
and terminating the day before the battle of Sedan, when Colonel de
Contrenson, at the head of the Fifth Regiment of French Cuirassiers,
charged the entire German army on these heights nearby; charged time and
again in the very teeth of their cannon, in the vain attempt to stop their
resistless onward course to Sedan, five miles away, and only desisted when
the gallant Fifth were literally reduced to a few shreds of shattered
humanity; but that was only thirty years ago.”
“Oh! rare, old Mouzon!” exclaimed he, “do you not claim the highest
regard of the lover of romance? the home of Maugis, the great warrior
sorcerer, and the scene of the rebellious warfares of those gallant sons
d’Aymon, those immortal knights Renaud, Alard, Guichard and Richard,
and of their redoubtable enemy, the princely Roland, all of them men whose
names are now a byword in history!”
“Mouzon,” continued the professor, apostrophizing, “the resort for
centuries of the high and mighty of the earth, your ancient streets have
witnessed the pageants of popes and kings, cardinals and princes, have
echoed with merry shout at carnival time, with solemn chant of cowled
monk, with cry of battle and shriek of the dying. They have resounded with
the tread of the barbarian, have known plague and famine, and have often
been illumined by the ruddy glare of fire. All this, as time passed, has been
added to the panorama of which you have been the stage. A city situated in
a battlefield, or in a spot that has been a battlefield of Europe, through all
the centuries from the time of the Romans to the battle of Sedan.”
I can now remember, as we sat there, listening, that the voice of the
professor grew dramatic and echoed in the vast interior of the cathedral
with a solemn effect.

“Mouzon,” continued he, “the historic, the romantic has no mention in
guide books, it has no visitors or tourists, because it is out of the traveled
route. Even children in the streets gaze with curiosity on the stranger. It has
neither gained nor lost in population, as the centuries rolled on and the
events of history have thundered over it, even from the time when this
magnificent cathedral was commenced, which, though often ruined in the
wars, is, as now restored, one of the finest specimens of Norman
architecture in the world.
“Mouzon was a fortress in 247 B.C., then on the borders of France, and
was the scene of many a battle of the Visigoths and other barbarians with
the French kings. In 486 A.D. the great King Clovis wrested it from the
Visigoths and gave it, and the beautiful surrounding country, which
included the historic battlefield of Sedan, into the possession of the good
monk, St. Remy, who built and maintained a great abbey here. For centuries
thereafter it was controlled by the Catholic Church and became a great
ecclesiastical center. Prior to this time the Romans had penetrated
throughout this region, bringing their rare civilization, building magnificent
roads, fortresses and temples, remains of which exist to-day.
“This beautiful province in northern France has been the theater of the
most tremendous events in the history of France and the history of Europe.
“Ah! Those were terrible centuries, when the good monks lived with the
prayer book in one hand and the sword in the other.
“Then there were the great lords, or seigneurs, who divided the country
around among themselves and were always quarreling and fighting. It was
hereabouts that Charlemagne waged war against the great sorcerer, Maugis,
and his brave companions, about whom so much has come down to us in
romance and song. Nearby is the plain of Marcel, where three young
noblemen, brothers, and their retainers, fought a fratricidal duel with each
other to the death, until the ground was red with blood, so that to this day
no living thing will grow upon it, and even now, at midnight, by putting the
ear to the ground, the peasantry believe that the sounds of battle, the crash
of arms, and the shrieks of the wounded and dying may be heard.
“It was in the immense forests, part of which now remain, that
Charlemagne had his hunting lodge, for he was a lover of the chase. It was
nearby that Maugis, the oldest son of Aymon, built the Château de

Montfort, and in it, with his doughty brothers, stubbornly resisted the king,
until finally driven out by treachery. The fortress was then razed to the
ground, so that not a trace of it remains to-day.
“Thus the history of Mouzon has been that of war and vicissitude. It was
held by the Spanish in the middle ages for a long time, and specimens of
their peculiar architecture may yet be seen in these ancient streets.
“In 1672 the great abbey was pillaged by the iconoclasts and its vast store
of precious manuscripts was destroyed and scattered. I am still unearthing
them from all sorts of queer hiding places.”
The voice of the schoolmaster now ceased. Its echoes died away in the
dim interior. Albert and he arose to visit the organ loft, but I remained
seated, musing. The western sun shone softly through the lofty, stained
glass windows, shooting subdued colored pencils of light across the worn
pavement that finally rested upon and glorified the recumbent figure of a
warrior on a tomb near at hand, and then falling at my feet, illumined a half-
effaced epitaph:
“Fortiter et recta haec olim⸺”
The organ commenced a solemn chant and the vast interior, with an
indescribably beautiful effect, palpitated with soft harmony. As I sat there,
looking upward into the dim obscurity of the beautifully arched roof, the
ghosts of centuries seemed to float before me and a feeling of awe
possessed all my being.
Below my feet rested the ashes of generations of warriors and of saintly
men of peace who had stood before that altar and administered the beautiful
offices of the church. That floor had been trodden by kings and princes and
potentates of high degree, and more than all, by an immeasurable mass of
common humanity, that through the centuries had prayed, wept and rejoiced
within those silent walls.

INTERIOR CATHEDRAL, MOUZON.

Ah! if they could only speak!
My reverie was interrupted by the return of my companions; then the
professor bade us adieu.
Albert and I once more were out into the sunlight, when the thought of
that mysterious door in that narrow street came back to me with sudden

force.
“Albert,” said I, “I have an irresistible desire to see the interior of that
queer old house, the professor told us was the home of Maugis, the
sorcerer.”
“I wouldn’t do it,” replied he.
“Why not?”
“Because the professor told me, while we were visiting the organ, that the
occupant of that house was a strange-acting old man, who becomes very
violent when intruded upon. Some regard him as partly insane, and though
he is said to be a very learned man, no one knows anything of his early
history, except that he has occupied the house for many years. Tradition has
it that the house was the home of Maugis, and it is believed to be haunted. It
certainly is the most ancient house in Mouzon and has a remarkable
fireplace, with a huge carved mantelpiece.”
“Will you come with me, Albert?” I insisted.
“Certainly,” replied he; “if you care to risk it.”
We rapped a long time upon the heavy oak door with no result, and were
about to give up in despair when we heard a creaking of bolts and chains,
and it swung partly open on its rusty hinges. A shock head of iron-gray hair
and two wild gray eyes appeared in the opening.
“Monsieur!” said Albert, “this gentleman, who is my guest, is a foreigner
and is much interested in antiquarian research. I have ventured to intrude
upon you in the hopes that you would permit us to see the interior of this
ancient house.”
No answer.
“Our object in coming here is not mere curiosity,” continued Albert; “we
shall feel much concerned to know that we disturb you, or that you consider
our visit an intrusion.”
Albert was certainly a born diplomatist.
“Did that sneaking schoolmaster send you here?” asked the old man.

“On the contrary, we came here without his knowledge and I may say
against his advice.”
A bony, inkstained hand unfastened a chain; the door creaked open.
“Come in,” he said.
We were ushered into a small apartment, with a low, heavy-beamed
ceiling, black with age. One side of the room was entirely taken up with an
enormous fireplace of a size sufficient to roast an ox. Huge grotesque
figures carved from stone, one on either side, supported a high mantel, and
a great, cast-iron plate, bearing an almost obliterated coat-of-arms, formed
its back. The uneven stone floor, worn into hollows by the feet of
generations, was cluttered up by a bench and other débris, and a huge table,
on which bundles of papers were piled in the utmost confusion; a small
dust-begrimed window half-lighted the gloom.
The old man said not a word, while Albert and I examined the fireplace;
but he regarded us with a keenness that we could almost feel.
“This small house,” said Albert to me, “was evidently the porter’s lodge
or guard room of the great citadel, which centuries ago occupied this site. It
has but two rooms, you will observe, this one and the one above.”
“You are right,” interrupted the old man; then going to the door he
opened it wide and commanded, “now go!”
We silently bowed, and were about to pass out when he laid his hand on
my arm and said:
“You will remain!”
There was an earnest look in his eyes, and I hesitated a moment; but an
imperious gesture sent Albert without; the door closed, and I was alone with
the hermit, half-madman, for such he seemed to be.
“What are you?” he demanded, turning to me.
“An Irishman.”
“When do you leave the country?”
“Next week.”

“Would you do a service for a man whose days on earth are numbered?”
asked the old man in a tone almost of entreaty.
“Surely, if I can,” I answered; “in what way could I serve you?”
“In a thousand ways,” he almost shouted, jumping to his feet, his tall
form erect, and his eyes gleaming.
“Listen,” continued he, “for thirty years I have not known a moment’s
peace. Though this place is haunted, I cannot, dare not leave—I had so
much to do. I had so much to do,” he moaned, passing his bony hand over
his forehead, and after a few moments’ pause, he continued:
“It was thirty odd years ago the curse fell upon me. I was a schoolmaster
at Pau, in southern France, and I was a passionate antiquarian. One day I
read a paper before the Société d’Ethnographie of Nancy, of which I was
then a member, on an ancient document I had unearthed, concerning the
warrior sorcerer Maugis. This manuscript I had discovered in the ruins of an
old castle. It was a short document, but to decipher its cryptogramic
characters cost me infinite labor. It merely told the hiding place, in the north
of France, of sundry writings concerning the history of Maugis and the four
sons of the Duc d’Aymon, historic characters of the reign of Charlemagne.
What think you was my reception from them? They laughed me to scorn,
those savants. They said Maugis was apochryphal, was a myth. Then in the
intensity of my mortification and rage I defied them to their teeth and told
them I would find the papers; but France never should see them, I would
burn them first.
“They only laughed the more, and when I cursed them they expelled me
in disgrace. That did not end my persecution,” explained the old man
excitedly. “Very soon afterward they took from me my position. I was said
to be insane, and I left the south broken-hearted and came here; that was
many years ago. Aided by the directions given me in the ancient writing, I
found a vast number of documents of the greatest historical value. Their
hiding place was right here in this ancient home of Maugis. I found them
stored in a recess back of yonder iron plate of the fireplace. Since then I
have read what I could and I have deciphered what I could, for many were
written in mysterious and magical characters, and burned them.”
“You burned them?”

“Yes, I burned them, every one.”
“Man, you are surely mad!”
“No! no!” cried he, “I am not mad, I only have my revenge, but then”—
and here his voice sank to a whisper—“it told me to do it.”
“Who?”
“The vision—the vision that visits this room every night—I but do its
bidding,” he replied, shuddering.
I then saw that I was dealing with a paranoiac, yet I could not resist the
impression that there was a certain reason in his madness.
“Have you many of those papers left?” I asked.
“They are nearly finished, and when they are done I must die.”
“Listen!” he continued, his voice sinking to a whisper. “Every night a
ghostly company sits about that table, and what they say I know not; but
most awful! a decapitated head stands on its dripping neck on the corner of
that mantel up there and presides. It is the head of Lothaire. Its dreadful
eyes search my very soul. Its very bidding I feel I must obey. It hurries me
on to read! burn! read! burn! and yet I now know very well that every paper
I give to the flames in that fireplace is a step toward death. It commands, I
obey, and after all it is better so; I am content.
“Worse than all,” continued he after a moment’s pause, “that society at
Nancy learned in some way that I was right. They searched France for me,
and they finally found me here. They have written me time and time again,
but I took no notice. Then they put spies upon me—they have even tried to
poison me, and failing in that they have tried to steal in upon me. That
schoolmaster is one of them. So far they have failed, but they are now
waiting for my death, thinking then to gain the precious writings.
“It told me that a stranger would come from a far-off land, and that I
should give the result of my labor to him.
“You are the man,” he exclaimed, “I will trust you!
“Listen! while I have read and deciphered and destroyed, I have written.
See,” said he, producing a roll of closely written manuscript, “this is a
synopsis of it all, it is a history of the life of Maugis, the sorcerer, who was

not in league with the devil, as supposed, but acted under the commands of
God.
“This must never be shown to France,” cried the old man earnestly. “Will
you accept the trust and take oath to do my behest regarding it?”
“I will, providing I can,” I replied.
“Then swear it!” with a sudden force that startled me, thrusting an
ancient breviary in my face for me to kiss. “Repeat after me! swear,” he
shouted.
“oath.
“I, Frederick, Lord Gilhooley, do now swear, on my hope of eternal salvation that I
accept the manuscript, notes of Maugis, from Charles Voudran as a solemn trust. I will
never show it in France. I will keep its contents from the world until the knowledge of
the death of Voudran releases me from this, my oath; that I will then publish it with a
dedication as follows: ‘To the fools who compose the Société d’Ethnographie of
Nancy!’ So help me, God, and all the saints.”

Almost bewildered by the strange scene and surroundings, I
mechanically repeated the oath after him, and when I had finished the
strange being looked fixedly at the corner of the mantel, where he had said
the horrid head appeared, and said:
“Does it please you, master?”
My eyes followed his, but I saw nothing.
Placing both his hands to his head, Voudran staggered to a chair, saying
to me:
“It is well! you may go, farewell!”
Hiding the precious roll under my cloak I hurried out into the pure air
and rejoined Albert, who was sauntering leisurely down the street, enjoying
a cigarette.
We directed our steps onward across the small square in front of the
cathedral; passed down the ancient main street and stood upon the old
bridge. It was sunset; a parting ray of sunshine escaping through the clouds
shot across the top of the hills over field and valley and tenderly caressed
the dingy front of the grand old church towering far above its surroundings,
glorifying it for a moment and then fading, leaving it and the hoary-roofed

houses nestling at its feet, as if for protection, almost ghostlike in the
coming twilight.
I leaned over the parapet of the bridge and looking down listened to the
gurgling of the river through its ancient arches. The charm of the hour was
upon me and it seemed to me as if I could hear voices calling to me out of
the past. I stood there, dreaming and musing upon the strange events of the
day, until aroused by my companion, who put his hand on my shoulder and
said:
“Come! we must go!”
The twilight had fallen into dusk and as I looked backward, while turning
away, at rare old Mouzon, poor old Mouzon—grand old Mouzon—it stood
out to my view with its great old cathedral looming up more ghostlike than
ever.
So, gentle reader, poor Charles Voudran is dead, and here I present you,
according to my promise, the story of Maugis, the warrior sorcerer, and the
four knightly sons of Aymon, and I pray that it may please you well.
In presenting the exciting episodes of this story which poor Voudran,
through me, now presents to your favor, it is perhaps proper for me to call
your attention to the curious revelations it makes of the civilization of those
ancient times, where a strange mixture of religious fervor, high chivalry,
magnanimity, and keen sense of honor, are intermingled with superstition,
barbaric splendor, cruelty, treachery, and disregard of life, altogether
affording a remarkable insight into the human nature and the manners and
customs of the eighth century.
This story deals of a period when Christianity had become widespread
throughout the then civilized world, and the prevailing conception of God
was that of an austere and awful nemesis, a deity enraged against humanity.
The element of mercy seemed to be entirely left out of God’s dealings with
mankind. The most trivial offense met an eternity of torture in hell, the
violation of an oath was eternal damnation, and only the most ascetic means
could in any event secure salvation. To retire from the world into
monasteries or solitudes was thought to be the most successful atonement
possible.

It is history how the shadow of this awful fear hung over the world like a
pall for centuries, and how in the middle ages man became fairly mad with
fright.
In relation to this story, I have made the attempt to preserve the style of
the unfortunate scholar who intrusted it to me, preserving its simplicity,
which is that as a minstrel of old going about singing of the deeds of men.
I have carefully omitted, in the interest of the reader, the learned
disquisitions of poor Voudran on psychic phenomena as related to the
history of Maugis, which would attract those only who are studying the
subject, and which, doubtless, involved on the part of the unfortunate
scholar a vast amount of labor. Perhaps the result of his labors is best
summed up in his own words in the concluding sentences of his manuscript
now before me:
“This concludes the story of Maugis which I have laboriously gleaned
from ancient documents found in his house; I trust I have proved from the
study of the ancient Sanskrit writings among these papers that the
manifestations of Maugis were due to nothing more or less than a
knowledge of psychic phenomena that would be remarkable even in this
enlightened age, and the fear and consternation their exercise must have
produced in the age of superstition of the time of Charlemagne can hardly
be conceived.
“The secret of the whole matter I have unearthed. It seems that the Duke
d’Aymon, the father of Maugis, did heroic service in the holy wars. He
happened one time to make a prisoner of a very venerable man who was
held in captivity by the Saracens. The Duke d’Aymon, attracted by his
profound learning and great gentleness of demeanor, treated him with the
utmost consideration. His new-found friend was none other than a
renowned Hindu, a man who was not only a pundit and Mahatma, but was
also a Bodhisatva.
“This noted scholar was named Sahadeva Vyasa Pandu, who afterward
returned to France with the Duke d’Aymon and remained with him until his
death. It was under his tuition that Maugis, the eldest son of the Duke
d’Aymon, became accomplished in occult things and learned to develop and
control psychic forces; who became the possessor of the wonderful powers
of telepathy and hypnosis, and it was due to this occult knowledge that

Maugis was enabled to accomplish the marvelous things which in that age
must have appeared truly awful.”
These final words of the manuscript of poor Voudran are almost pathetic:
“I know not while I write this by whom it may be read, and I care not so
long as it is kept from that Society of Fools at Nancy, who scorned me, who
ostracised me, and who wrecked my life. I know only that my eyes will be
closed and my lips will be dumb when this protest goes out to the great and
unfeeling and cruel world.”

CHAPTER II.
Afar down the centuries in the good year 779 A.D., on a certain afternoon
in the golden month of August, the greatest excitement was visible about
the palace of the great Emperor Charlemagne at Paris. The royal armies,
headed by that great warrior, had been victorious over the Saracens, in
which battle “Guesdelin, the Sluggard,” their general, had been killed, and
he, surrounded by his victorious legions, had returned to Paris in triumph to
celebrate the fêtes of the Pentecost in company of his brilliant court.
Although in that sanguinary battle he had met with the deplorable loss of
several of his bravest knights, Noel, Count of Mans, Arnoue de Froulon,
Albert de Bouillon, Solomon de Bretagne and a number of others;
nevertheless the fêtes were not made less brilliant by the absence of these
brave men. There had assembled at Paris for his great occasion, all the
dukes and peers of France with their glittering retinues, and with them also
came many princes and noblemen from other courts of Europe to assist in
the festivities.
Among all that brilliant assemblage the most remarked were the brave
Duke d’Aymon, Lord of Dordogne, and his four gigantic sons, Maugis,
Allard, Guichard and Richard, all handsome and courageous young men.
Maugis, above the others, commanded the admiration of the entire court,
his height, for he was seven feet tall, his valor and his great learning, for he
was the pupil of a pundit whose life had been saved by his father during the
Saracenic wars, and who had enriched his young charge from his vast store
of occult knowledge, had made him renowned already, and it was generally
conceded that he was destined for a great career.
The great audience chamber was packed with this brilliant assemblage on
that August afternoon, and the babble of voices that filled the air fell into a
profound hush upon the entry of the emperor.
Unbefitting the joy of the occasion, his brow was clouded by a deep
frown, and gazing upon the sea of upturned faces before him for awhile, he

arose from his throne and amid a great silence addressed them in these
words:
“Brave knights, your valor has aided me in the highest degree to
overcome the enemy, to conquer many cities, and obtain the submission of
their people. But alas! to secure these grand results we have the sorrow to
lose many of our noblest born. Bad enough as this is there is yet another
matter that deeply incenses me and of this I now speak. Because Gerard de
Roussillon, the Duke of Nantueil, and the Duke de Beuves d’Aigremont, all
three of them our brothers and our subjects, refused me their aid, I now
make complaint against them. Believing in their oaths of allegiance to me I
surely counted upon their aid, and without their force or aid was compelled
to engage superior numbers. It is to Solomon, who came to our succor with
thirty thousand troops, and Lambert, and Galeron de Bordeille, and
Berruger, to whom is due our victories.”
At this point the emperor rose to his full height, and with eyes flashing,
continued: “I now declare to you that I shall once more appeal to the Duke
Beuves d’Aigremont to fulfill his allegiance and if he still resists I shall lay
siege to his dominions; if I become aroused I will not stop at taking life. I
will flay him alive, send his wife and his son Renaud to the stake, and give
their country up to pillage.”
At these savage words, uttered with the utmost anger, the Duke de
Naimes, who was considered to be the wisest man of the court, arose and
responded to the king:
“Sire, employ all possible means to avoid war, which is always cruel to
the people whom you govern. Therefore send to the Duke d’Aigremont a
man who is capable, sure and faithful and one in whom you can place your
entire confidence, one who combines all the qualities of finesse and
prudence required by the importance of this mission. Let him go to the duke
and present to him his forgetfulness of his oath to you in such terms of
consideration and without pride of manner as will have the most effect and
then let the answer your majesty receives govern the determination as to
what course your majesty will take.”
The king, strongly impressed by this sensible advice, adopted it, but was
much embarrassed to make a selection of a man sufficiently discreet and
courageous to fulfill such a perilous mission—one who had neither fear of

the menaces of the famous duke, or the tried warriors of his family. He
finally chose his own son Lothaire, who accepted with all the submission of
a son and loyal subject, not without having demanded the benediction of his
royal father, the blessing of heaven, and at the same time prayed God to
care for his family.
Charlemagne had no sooner made this decision when he was assailed
with the most dire presentiments, and his depression was only increased
when the following morning he saw the departure of his son and his suite,
composed of one hundred brave knights, well armed and equipped. It
seemed to the unhappy king as if he was gazing for the last time on the face
of his well-beloved son, and the while regretted keenly that etiquette would
not allow a monarch to go himself as ambassador and demand an account of
a disloyal subject of his rebellion.
News traveled very quickly even in those olden days, and it was not long
before the Duke d’Aigremont was informed of the departure of the
cavalcade at the head of which gayly rode the young prince, and thanks to
the activity of his spies, the news came to D’Aigremont the moment of the
reunion of his barons at his castle to celebrate the fêtes of Pentecost and to
participate in the tournaments and games which were customary at that
epoch. Enraged at the fact of an embassy approaching him on such a
mission, and desiring to hasten his expression of insubordination, he at once
announced to his barons his intention of giving offense to the king, and
addressed them in these words:
“What now, sirs! the king not only makes the mistake of pretending to
make me and my people serve him, but he sends his oldest son to me to
make me menaces. What would you do under such circumstances were you
in my place?”
He had among his knights some men who were very true and sincere in
their counsel and who did not hesitate to speak plainly. One Sir Simon was
called upon and expressed himself thus:
“Monseigneur, a man who resists his king, who, after his God, is his lord
and master, makes an offense against heaven and justice. What do you
propose to do? Sustain your disobedience by force of arms? We are all
ready to shed our blood to the last drop, if may be, in the cause of justice,
and our valor will never allow us to yield to numbers, but what will be our

fate if we are defeated? How can you expect the clemency of the king if you
refuse to receive his son? Have you no fear of the fate of a rebellious
subject?”
The Duke d’Aigremont would not allow him to finish. Sparks of fire shot
from his eyes, their pupils dilated and he menaced his loyal servitor for
having ventured to speak so freely.
The duchess, on her part, fearful of the result, conjured the inflexible man
to listen to the counsels of his true friends and to again seek to enter into the
good graces of the king; when, however, the matter was submitted to the
assemblage, there was a great division of opinion. This is why the advice of
the good duchess was opposed by some and satisfied others.
The Duke d’Aigremont insisted on his intention of declining to serve the
king and refused to listen while, said he, he had three brothers from whom
he had a right to expect support, without counting his four nephews, the
sons of the Duke d’Aymon, without doubt the most valiant warriors of the
kingdom.
Meanwhile, during the occurrence of these scenes, the cavalcade of
Lothaire came into view of the castle. He had never seen a fortress in a
more formidable position, situated as it was on a high and almost
inaccessible rock at the foot of which a deep river ran.
“Indeed, your highness,” said the commander of the escort to the young
prince, “yon is a formidable place truly.” The castle had now come more
fully into view and as its tall battlements flanked by two high towers arose
on high, outlined against the blue sky, the prince only smiled and replied:
“Tut! Gaston, the sight of such an obstacle only incites me the more to
fulfill the mission intrusted me, and nothing shall retard me.”
In due time, to the sound of a lively fanfare by his heralds, Prince
Lothaire stood before the gates of the castle and was admitted to the great
court that was ominously guarded by grim soldiery.
The Duke d’Aigremont received him in the great audience-chamber
seated upon his throne. Beside him were his wife and son Renaud. Lothaire
advanced to the duke to acquaint him with his mission, but instead of
talking with moderation and following the counsels of the principal knights
of his suite, he forgot all reserve and with a haughty mien spoke as follows:

“Woe to the servant who disobeys his master! Monseigneur!
Charlemagne is irritated against you because you have not obeyed his
commands. He demands to know your reasons. Also am I come by his
commands to promise you his pardon, provided you will at once place
yourself at his mercy and make oath to send him five hundred knights. If
you persist in your refusal you shall receive no pity. Punishments most cruel
will be visited upon thee and thine, and the loss of all thy domains and all
thy subjects will be the consequence of thy obstinacy. I require an
immediate answer. Decide quickly, for Charlemagne awaits my return with
impatience.”
At these bold and indiscreet words the Duke d’Aigremont bounded to his
feet enraged.
“By Saint Gris!” he cried, “tell thy father, Charlemagne, that not only do
I refuse his appeal to assist him in war, but that I will myself make war
upon him. I will come with my own army and destroy the kingdom of
France.”
“Thou traitor!” shouted Lothaire in reply, forgetting all restraint and
refusing the warnings of his suite to conduct himself moderately.
Those old days were grim times—there was very little between a word
and a blow.
“Have a care, young man,” hissed D’Aigremont, his eyes blazing. “You
will never return to thy father.”
“Traitor and coward!” hotly responded the prince, drawing his sword.
The duke, upon this, unsheathed his own sword and sprang upon
Lothaire, his knights threw themselves upon the suite of the prince, and the
mêlée became general.
The great audience-chamber rang with sounds of blows, oaths, shouts,
and the cries of the wounded and dying.

THE HAUNTED BATTLEFIELD.

Prince Lothaire was everywhere, his sword seemed invincible, a man fell
at every stroke. Even when the Duke d’Aigremont appeared before him he
barely resisted the furious onward rush of Lothaire and fell back staggering
and wounded from a terrible stroke of his sword. But quickly recovering, in
his turn he struck down the prince with all his force, and such was his fury
he did not leave the mangled remains until he had cut off the head of his
opponent.
Meantime in battle around them the men of the prince had fought
bravely, although greatly outnumbered. Of the one hundred men composing
the suite, only twenty remained alive, and these, seeing the fall of their
chief commander, surrendered. The infuriated duke ordered all but ten of

them to be killed, and these he made swear solemnly that they would carry
the remains of the prince back to Paris.
“Tell him, thy master,” said he, “that here is the body of thy son. Be
assured I shall not wait idly for thee to come and succor it.”
The ten knights having given their word to report these words faithfully,
put the remains of Lothaire in a chariot and departed sorrowfully
homeward.
In the meantime, Charlemagne, much disquieted at not receiving news of
his son, openly manifested his fears. The sinister presentiments he had had
made him think his son was dead, then in an access of rage he made the
most terrible threats against the Duke d’Aigremont.
“I will go,” said he, “at the head of an army and reduce him to the most
cruel extremities.”
Those surrounding him endeavored to calm him and convince him that it
would be impossible for the Duke d’Aigremont to be capable of so
infamous an action.
“If ever,” cried the Duke d’Aymon, “the Duke d’Aigremont has
committed such a crime, he should be served with a startling vengeance.
Who among us would refuse you support? For me, sire! and my four sons,
count on our loyalty and courage.”
“I am deeply moved by thy fidelity, my good Aymon,” replied the king.
“Many affairs have so occupied me that I have not yet seen thy four brave
sons. Do thou present them to me on the morrow that I may arm them in a
style befitting their high rank.”
Following upon this, the next day, in the presence of the whole court,
Charlemagne formally knighted Maugis and presented him with a
magnificent suit of armor that he had himself taken from the King of
Cyprus, who had fallen under his own hand at Paraplumex. Then the king
embraced him. Maugis had then placed upon his feet the golden spurs of
Oger, the Dane, after which he sprang upon the back of his favorite horse,
Bayard, whose name has come down to us in poetry and song as one of the
most perfect animals that ever existed.

The three brothers of Maugis were equally well armed and knighted.
Following these ceremonies, Charlemagne gave a tournament in their
honor, at which the young men so acquitted themselves as to win the
admiration of everyone.
Maugis, having defeated one of the most skillful knights of
Charlemagne’s court, while riding around the lists toward the station of the
king, amid the tumultuous plaudits of the onlookers, was stopped in his
course by seeing a tiny glove tied with a knot of blue ribbon fall at his feet.
Hastily dismounting and recovering it he looked up among the sea of faces
regarding him and his eye was arrested by a beautiful figure seated beside a
stalwart warrior, one of the guests of the court.
When two beautiful blue eyes met his own, their glance sought his heart
direct; even as a moonbeam will kiss a placid pool and glorify it, so was the
heart of Maugis gladdened. He failed not during the few seconds of the
episode to note the tall willowy figure and the shapely head which was soon
hidden blushing behind the shoulder of her brother, shrinking from the too
ardent gaze of the young knight. Neither failed he to note that her slender
waist was encircled by a sash of the same hue as the ribbon on the glove he
held in his hand.
Little did he know the vicissitudes that would afterward divide their lives
and pursue them when united—he only loved and was happy.
Reverently kissing the glove, Maugis placed it on his helmet and
thereafter performed such deeds of valor and prowess that everyone was
amazed. Charlemagne hastened to swear the four brothers into his service,
and insisted that Maugis should never quit him. Still no news of Lothaire.
The entire court was depressed. The king, accompanied by the Duke of
Naimes, took long walks on the banks of the Seine, their favorite
promenade, and there alone with his most intimate friend, the king poured
out to him all his hopes and fears. One day while taking their accustomed
walk, they saw at a great distance a cavalier covered with dust approach
them at a gallop. They both at the same instant recognized him as one of the
suite of Lothaire. Charlemagne, turning pale, threw himself into the arms of
the Duke of Naimes.
“My son is dead,” he cried, “and it is I who am his murderer. How much
better it would have been if, instead of showing clemency to the Duke of

Aigremont, I had marched upon him at the head of an army. I would not
have been to-day mourning the death of my son.”
At this moment the messenger knight, who had ridden night and day to
bring the tidings, presented himself before them and announced the bloody
death of Lothaire, which having done, overcome with fatigue, he fell at the
feet of Charlemagne and expired.
A most touching scene then occurred between the emperor and his
confidant. Both wept and amid their tears sought to console each other.
“Why shed tears?” said the Duke de Naimes, “our regrets will not bring
back the prince to life. It is vengeance we must have now. To punish the
murderer is, above all, our sole aim. God, who never abandons those who
battle for the right, will sustain us. Here, it is not only the father who fights
the assassin of his son, it is the sovereign who demands account of the
blood of his ambassador.”
This energetic discourse had the effect intended by the duke.
Charlemagne, with his face resolute, laid aside his sorrowings and gave
orders to his knights, courtiers and soldiers for the disposition of the
remains of his son. An immense cortége accompanied the body to the
church of St. Germain des Pres, where the final obsequies occurred.
After the ceremony terminated, when Charlemagne was returning
sorrowfully to Paris with his suite, revolving in his mind projects of
vengeance, a messenger brought to him the startling intelligence that the
Duke d’Aymon and his four sons had suddenly left the court and had
quitted Paris. At this the king became so enraged and swore so violently
that it was all in vain the courtiers sought to calm him by calling his
attention to the fact that the Duke d’Aymon was the own brother of the
Duke d’Aigremont, who had murdered his son, and when he left his sons
were in duty bound to accompany him. Charlemagne could listen to
nothing, but finally becoming more calm, demanded to know the real
reason for the departure of the five knights.
It was reported to him that the Duke d’Aymon de Dordogne, being made
aware of the death of Lothaire and of the felony of his brother d’Aigremont,
called his sons together in council. He felt that they were in a false position
owing to the shameful defection of their relative, and he realized that

Charlemagne, in his just anger, would take a terrible revenge. What should
they do? What course should they take? Support Charlemagne and thus aid
in the destruction of their relative, or embrace the cause of Aigremont and
violate their oath to the emperor?
Said Maugis: “I propose that we leave the court, retire to the Ardennes,
and remain there to witness the result. By doing this neither party could
accuse us of treason, for until we have taken a final decision we would have
neither violated the ties of relationship nor the laws of friendship.”
This proposition was agreed to by all, and they immediately left the court
and set out upon their journey home.
Though the motive of their sudden departure was honorable,
Charlemagne, irritated not to have the help of five men of renowned valor,
would consider no excuse and swore against them a war of extermination.
While the court of Charlemagne was engaged in active preparations,
Aymon and his four sons gained in all haste their domains in the Ardennes,
where Edwige, the wife of the duke, received them with joy. After the first
moments consecrated to greeting, Edwige would know the news from Paris.
Alas! the joy of the poor mother was short-lived when she was apprised
of the cause of their return.
Edwige was at the same time allied by marriage to the house of
Charlemagne and to that of Aigremont. Her course was very difficult to
choose; but having carefully reflected, she said to her husband and sons:
“Why do you hesitate to march with Charlemagne? He is your lord and
has armed our sons; this thought should carry you to that side. The crime of
our relative is infamous and inexcusable, and think you that the emperor,
after having chastised the criminal, will not follow it up by attacking the
traitors who have aided his enemies by a passive assistance, and who have,
by so doing, diminished the forces of the royal army?
“The crime of D’Aigremont is unpardonable. An ambassador is sacred in
all cases and it is violating those usages and those laws, recognized by all
mankind, and more, his act has plunged the king into the deepest sorrow by
cutting the throat of his son, who came in the name of his father to claim
those sacred rights a sovereign has over his princes. If Aigremont conquers,
how much will your conscience reproach you for not having aided in the

punishment of the culpable. If on the other hand, he is vanquished, have
you not good reason to fear the conqueror, who has insults and infidelity to
avenge? The best thing to do is to take my advice, return to the emperor at
once and serve him faithfully.”
The truth and justice of these words made a profound impression on the
father and his sons, but the young knights did not relish the idea of
returning to Paris, so they formed their plans to pass some time at the
château of their father. Meanwhile, Charlemagne was actively occupied in
raising his army. In response to his call, all the peers and knights were
assembling their vassals on their estates.
May 18th was the time fixed for the assemblage of the army on the
Champs-de-Mars at Paris.
The subjects of the emperor were not a single instant behind the day set.
On the part of the Duke d’Aigremont, he, knowing full well that the king
would never pardon his crime, gave every attention to putting himself in
defense, and made the rounds of his entire domain.
After a time he had raised a considerable army. His brothers, Gerard de
Roussillon and the Duke de Nanteuil, also joined him with a number of
soldiers.
When his army was complete, D’Aigremont deemed it wise to go out and
meet the king, before he could besiege him in his own country, having
respect for an enemy so bitter and active as Charlemagne. In fact the king,
anxious to secure his revenge, would permit no one to place his troops. He
would do that himself. He confined his advance guard to Gallerand de
Bouillon, Nemours, Gui de Baviere, Oger, Richard and Eatonville. The
rearguard was commanded by the Duke of Naimes.
The center he reserved for himself, and having made this disposition of
his forces his army set out.
Hardly had the march commenced when he was informed by a deserter
of the advance of the army of the Duke d’Aigremont to meet him, and that
he had already invaded Champagne and was laying siege to Troyes with
great activity, which news caused him to throw forward the detachments of
the Duke de Naimes, the Duke de Bouillon and Godefroy de Frise, with

orders to await the arrival of the main army, a short distance from the
besieged city.
De Roussillon, who commanded the advance guard of D’Aigremont,
soon perceived the advance guard of the king’s army and giving his war-
cry, at once charged upon them, to which the army of Charlemagne
responded, and the two armies met with a terrible shock, and so fierce was
the onset that the ground was soon strewn with the wounded and dying and
the débris of arms.
The Duke d’Aigremont charged upon Oger and stretched him senseless at
his feet. Gerard and Nanteuil came quickly to join their brother, followed by
the best of their troops, and hurled themselves on the enemy with renewed
fury. Then were performed acts of the greatest valor. Richard de Normandy,
who commanded the allies, made a heroic resistance. Spearmen from
Lombardy, bowmen from Germany and Portevin, in serried ranks offered an
indestructible line of battle. One knight, with more hardihood than the
others, hurled himself against them in the endeavor to break it, and received
his death by a lance-thrust from Gerard.
The three brothers, seeing that they could obtain no chance for success
from that side, renewed their efforts by hurling themselves on the army of
Charlemagne.
At the first shock the forces of Gallerand de Bouillon were nearly thrown
from their feet. It was a moment requiring all their tenacity. Many were
killed on both sides, but Charlemagne, with a prudence that never deserted
him, even in the most perilous moments, allowed D’Aigremont and his
brother to become engaged more and more until he found a favorite
moment, and then moved his troops quickly around the flank of their forces
and caught them in the rear.
The duke had been wounded by Richard de Normandy, and his life was
only saved by the fall of his horse, which tumbled under a stroke of the
sword intended for him.
Retreat now became the last resource of the army of the Duke
d’Aigremont and the order was given and the battalions that had started out
so brilliantly in the morning commenced to retire in good order.

Charlemagne at once saw the movement, and calling to him the Duke de
Naimes, Godefroy de Frise, Gallerand and many others, he ordered them to
pursue the Duke d’Aigremont and his brothers without relaxation, and if
possible take them alive that he might visit upon them the direst vengeance.
These brave knights immediately started in pursuit of the enemy, but the
falling of night prevented their carrying out the orders of Charlemagne.
After the terrible exertions of the day both armies needed rest. The Duke
d’Aigremont was much chagrined at his defeat. His brother Gerard, in
particular, who had been annoyed at the death of Lothaire, could not
conceal his discontent; he could not resist making the complaint that he had
made his promise to assist D’Aigremont in all things, but nevertheless, he
desired to resume the attack upon the king the next day with all the force
they could command and avenge their defeat and Nanteuil dissuaded them.
“I think,” said he, “that we are not defending a just cause, and that it
would be better to send a deputation of our knights to Charlemagne and ask
for peace. Are we not his subjects? Besides to prevail, we must attack him
unaware. And suppose we do succeed in destroying his army, it will only
follow that we shall again be opposed by a force more considerable than
any we can assemble? No! I think the wisest course for us to pursue is to
submit.”
The advice of Nanteuil prevailed. It was agreed that the following
morning ambassadors were to be sent to Charlemagne to make terms of
peace.
Accordingly, at sunrise the next day, thirty knights, chosen from the most
experienced and from those of the highest rank, after having received the
instructions of D’Aigremont, mounted their horses and proceeded to the
camp of Charlemagne.
The king being informed of their approach assembled his army in battle
array and received them at the door of his tent. The messengers of
D’Aigremont came forward, bearing an olive branch as a sign of peace, and
kneeling before him bowed down to the earth.
“Rise!” commanded Charlemagne.
“Sire,” said Henri de Brienne, “we have come in the name of the Duke de
Beuves d’Aigremont to implore your clemency. We recognize the enormity

of our crime, and here before your majesty we would place ourselves into
your hands. We supplicate you, above all, to spare the poor people we
compelled to obey us and who were forced into complicity in our crime. If
your majesty will but say the word, the Duke d’Aigremont and his brothers
will come and submit themselves to any punishment you may see fit to
impose upon them.”
The king, trembling at the thought of being brought face to face once
more with the murderer of his son, ordered the knights to return to their
master and to have him present himself at once to receive punishment for
his crimes, accompanied by his three brothers; that his army must surrender
at discretion; that the ambassador might have no illusions as to his formal
intention not to submit to any supplications, and that the truth of these
words might be forced upon them, he ordered, in their presence, the
erection of three gibbets upon which the three brothers were to swing.
These grim preparations completed, Charlemagne sent them back, giving
them until noon to execute his commands, under penalty of immediately
commencing hostilities.
The thirty knights returned to their camp and faithfully reported to the
Duke d’Aigremont the words of Charlemagne. There was nothing left to do
but bravely accept their fate. The order was immediately given for the
disarmament of the troops. The Duke d’Aigremont had a difficult task in
overcoming the repugnance of Gerard de Bouillon and De Nanteuil to
submitting, but they finally consented to accompany him.
It was a sad and curious spectacle to see the Duke d’Aigremont and his
two brothers on that bright and beautiful May morning, stripped to their
shirts, with heads bare, with a cord attached to their necks, march at the
head of several hundred knights, stripped to their shirts likewise, and
followed by their soldiers with heads bare, all marching on foot along the
road which separated their camp from the camp of Charlemagne. Upon
their arrival at the tent of the emperor the three brothers with their suite and
all their army kneeled to the earth, amid a great hush from the assembled
hosts.
With constrained voice the emperor bid the three brothers arise, and
sternly but silently pointed to them the way to the scaffold.

The three brothers without a single supplication obeyed in silence. On
arriving at the foot of the gibbet, the emperor, who had followed, could no
longer conceal his emotion, and for the moment the heart of the soldier
overcame the sorrows of the father. He paused and with bitter tears filling
his eyes:
“Barbarians!” cried he, “why should you have punished me so cruelly by
destroying my beloved son, a young prince who complied loyally with the
orders of his sovereign?”
D’Aigremont was deeply affected by the grief of the emperor. “Sire!”
said he, “I beg to die without delay; I realize the enormity of my crime and
that death alone can remove my disgrace.”
The executioners then approached to perform their sinister offices. The
assembled armies awaited, breathless and concerned, the end of this
powerful drama.
The emperor seemed to be entirely absorbed in his grief, but suddenly
recovering command of himself and with a noble generosity, so
characteristic of him, he forgot the death of his son, and, sacrificing his
grief and revenge, these words fell from his lips:
“I pardon you,” said he to the condemned. “Can you appreciate the
sentiments that dictate my conduct to you? Resume your titles and your
dignities, everything shall be forgotten and the past shall be effaced—this
time do not forget your oaths of fidelity, or else you cannot hope for my
forgiveness.”
A thrill of admiration ran through all the spectators. Mute with surprise at
first, there finally arose an explosion of joy from the hearts of those who, an
instant previous, had been torn with fear and sorrow. Loud acclaims arose
on every hand and the soldiers of the two armies embraced each other in a
transport of joy.
D’Aigremont and his brothers were stricken dumb with surprise. They
could hardly comprehend the greatness of soul and generosity of the
emperor and stood silent. They then solemnly promised never to do
anything again contrary to the wishes of their master, and renewed their
oaths of fidelity.

The Duke de Naimes, the most devoted friend of the emperor, could not
contain his satisfaction.
“Sire,” exclaimed he, “you are the greatest king the world has ever
known. This act of generosity, which does you honor, will be an
imperishable monument to you. You have commended your friends and
your people to God and you will never have cause to regret your action.”
After some moments, when the enthusiasm had become calmed,
Charlemagne caused all the arms and equipments of the three brothers, their
knights and soldiers, to be returned to them, and when they had received
them they cried to be led against the foes of the emperor and promised to
use all efforts to aid him. The princes and their men that night encamped
with the royal army.

CHAPTER III.
All being restored to order and the war between himself and subjects
having been terminated, Charlemagne returned to Paris, after having made
an appointment with the Duke d’Aigremont to meet him at the capital.
The duke was pledged to come immediately with two hundred men, also
to raise six thousand men additional, and the same were to report at Paris in
good order as soon as possible to join the king’s army. Gerard and Nanteuil,
the brothers of d’Aigremont, the emperor commanded, were to proceed
with him as an escort, and were to march in advance with himself.
Agreeable to this arrangement, some time afterward, when the Duke
d’Aigremont had proceeded toward Paris, until he was nearly at Soissons,
he perceived an army of about four thousand men advancing to meet him.
He was much puzzled to account for this movement and deemed it prudent
to stop.
The forgiveness that Charlemagne had solemnly accorded the duke had,
it seems, created a profound jealousy in the hearts of many of the courtiers,
one of whom in particular regarded his noble action simply as an act of
cowardice. He was jealous of the emperor and jealous of the duke. His
cowardly mind prompted him to dishonor the former and get rid of the
latter, if he could only contrive some means to attack him, for he was
possessed of considerable force and had great courage besides. He decided
that to disgrace him would be the better plan. This is why he then proceeded
to represent insinuatingly to the emperor that he had been hasty and
inconsiderate in his pardon of the princes, even though they had taken a
new oath of fidelity. There could be no doubt that it was their plan to
surround the king when a favorable opportunity came with a force he could
not resist. This traitor further represented to the king that allowing himself
to be so encompassed by these princes was an inconsistent act amounting to
temerity and that it would have been infinitely better to have immediately

gotten rid of them in some indirect manner than to allow them an
opportunity to form new relations in the royal army.
This tempter also worked on the royal mind by bringing up past injuries,
and he cunningly brought up the cruel death of Lothaire, until he felt certain
of obtaining, if not an order, at least a tacit consent to the carrying out of his
evil designs. That was what came about.
This villainous plotter was Ganelon, who, after this preliminary
poisoning of the emperor’s mind, completed his work by going to him
accompanied by three other knights, when all three represented to the
emperor that if the Duke d’Aigremont was allowed to come to Paris with an
army he might do so with one double the strength he had promised, which
would surely compromise his security; it being the intention of the duke,
they were sure, to raise the standard of revolt at the first opportunity.
“In effect, sire!” said Ganelon, “it would be quite easy to sow discord in
an army composed of different peoples. Prejudices could be created by
exciting one against the other until a conflict would be precipitated that
would endanger the crown itself.”
“Sire,” said another knight, “to prevent such a dire disaster, there is only
one way.”
“And that is,” queried the now thoroughly enraged emperor.
“To stop his coming and to take him dead or alive and punish him for
having violated his new oath,” cried Ganelon.
“S’ death! I find it ill favors me to believe this,” exclaimed Charlemagne
with darkened brow, “D’Aigremont swore to me his fidelity and that he
should violate it a second time is impossible.”
“But sire!” urged Ganelon, “consider the safety of your majesty and that
of the state.”
“Enough!” thundered the emperor. “I will not believe it. However, rather
than have myself to reproach for a deplorable conflict, such as would occur
by these reports, take four thousand soldiers and go yourself to meet
D’Aigremont and assure yourself of his faithfulness.”
A gleam of triumph lighted the eyes of the perfidious plotter, though his
impassiveness did not betray the feelings of triumph which surged in his

breast, as he, with his three fellow conspirators, left the royal presence. He
had obtained part of what he desired, knowing that at the same time he had
also been able to show every indication of zeal and profound attachment to
the emperor. He hastened to put himself at the head of his troops and set out
on his mission.
It was this body of troops, headed by Ganelon, that barred the progress of
the Duke d’Aigremont toward Paris.
The duke paused in his march with a sinking heart. “Why,” he asked
himself, as the royal banners came into view and apprised him that it was
the king’s forces that faced him, “should the emperor send these troops to
resist me?”
He, however, determined to face the situation boldly and advanced with
his escort toward the royal army.
The duke approached within speaking distance, paused and respectfully
saluted the royal colors.

ANCIENT GATE OF MOUZON.

“May I inquire,” he demanded in a respectful tone, “why this army is
against me?”
“In good sooth, may’st thou!” replied Count Morillon, the lieutenant of
Ganelon, “there can be but one way to meet traitors, but with force, neither
can there be but one way to treat assassins.”
At these insulting words the face of the duke flushed hotly, but with an
effort of will he controlled himself and said with great deference: “This
must be an error, peace has been made and there can be no excuse for
recommencing a conflict that will perhaps prove fatal to each of us.”

“Traitor!” shouted Morillon in reply. “It may be the emperor has
pardoned thee, but the people have neither forgiven thee nor thy crimes.”
At these words Ganelon shouted: “A bas le assassin!” and at the head of
his troops bore down upon the duke and his small escort. But the latter was
too brave a man to retreat before this threatening movement.
Ganelon thought for a moment that the duke would seek safety in flight
and ordered Morillon to get in his rear. But the brave duke resisted this
movement, for it was his last thought to fly. Even had he so thought, it was
now too late, such were the superior numbers against him. Morillon
succeeded in getting in his rear and he was completely surrounded.
Then commenced a most desperate battle and in a very short time the
duke had lost half of his people, but the remainder fought with a
determination to die rather than surrender. It was a conflict of giants. Each
sword-stroke claimed its victim and even the horses joined the men in that
frenzied struggle.
The duke slew with one blow of his mighty sword, both Helic and
Godefroy. Morillon would have encountered the same fate but for the
quickness of Griffon de Hautfeuille, who cut down the horse of the Duke
d’Aigremont, who, entangled in the fall, could not recover himself, and
Ganelon ran him through with his sword, while at the same moment Griffon
pierced him to the heart.
Only ten knights now remained of the duke’s escort and they were
speedily disarmed and supplicated for their lives, which Ganelon granted
them on the condition that they bear the body of their master back to his
château.
Thus was a most cruel retaliation visited upon the poor Duke
d’Aigremont. The conquered knights accepted these conditions to save their
lives, but with the secret thought in their hearts to avenge the death of their
master. Covering up the remains, they then left for the land of
D’Aigremont, where they soon arrived.
The poor duchess swooned on seeing the body of her husband, but
collecting herself, she approached the blood-stained bier with her son
Renaud and made him swear upon it to employ all means possible to
avenge the murder of his father, which oath it will be seen he kept fully.

Ganelon and Griffon, proud of their achievement, in due time arrived in
Paris, and went to the court. But instead of meeting with a favorable
reception, received only words and looks of disapprobation. A man like
Ganelon, however, was not to be rebuked so easily. He appeared before the
emperor and presented, on his knees, the sword with which the Duke
d’Aigremont had killed his son.
“Sire,” said Ganelon humbly, “I know that every one disapproves of me
here. Sire, am I then blamable for having killed the assassin of your son?
Such is my disposition and I cannot help it. I may have disobeyed my
prince in my zeal, but I have obeyed my conscience which would never
permit me to allow such an awful crime to go unpunished. If you disfavor
me, sire, order my death, for I am a man who would willingly go to death
for you, but you would lose one of your most devoted knights merely
because he killed the murderer of your son.”
Charlemagne found himself in a position of strange perplexity. The court
was silent, while with troubled face and bowed head the emperor answered
not the supplicant before him.
“Thou art deserving of severe chastisement,” he thundered. “I like not the
idea of having failed when we have given our royal word. The Duke
d’Aigremont had obtained of me full pardon and I therefore should not
tolerate his assassination.”
The face of Ganelon paled—had he then gone too far?—matters boded ill
for him and a faint murmur of approval rose from the courtiers round about
the vast audience-chamber at the words of the king.
At this moment the Duke de Naimes and several other lords approached,
whom Griffon de Hautfeuille had artfully succeeded in winning over to
their cause, and supplicated Charlemagne for their pardon. At last the
emperor acceded, perhaps influenced by the secret fear of offending so
many powerful nobles by refusing, and the affair was suffered to rest there.
When the news of the pardon came to the Château d’Aigremont it had the
effect of increasing the grief and rage of his son Renaud, who hastened to
see his people and asked them to swear to enter into a war against the
emperor at the first favorable moment. They consented with loyalty.
Maugis, the eldest of the four sons of Aymon and nephew of the murdered

duke, was most ardent in his desire to punish such an act of treachery, and it
is from this point the real history of Maugis begins.

CHAPTER IV.
Charlemagne had no sooner been apprised by Ganelon of the misfortune
to the Duke de Beuves d’Aigremont, then he expedited a courier to the
duchess to assure her of his profound regret, and above all to give her to
understand that, although for sufficient reasons he had granted grace to the
murderers, it was not by his means, either directly or indirectly, that the
infamy was consummated.
The duchess, however, while appreciating the step of the emperor, said to
the messenger:
“Go tell thy master that to avenge my husband is now my sole desire;
that to accomplish this end I should sacrifice my family, my fortune and my
life. I shall from this day henceforth regard the carrying out of this project a
solemn duty.”
In the meantime the Duke d’Aymon and his sons, appreciating the fatal
consequences of a war to both parties, besought the Duchess d’Aigremont
to allow them to go to Charlemagne and make an appeal to him for
satisfaction for the injury done the family.
Charlemagne received the duke and his sons graciously. He understood
the motive that had led them to preserve neutrality during the late war and
he now entertained no resentment to them for it. On that account he gave
the duke and his sons to understand that they occupied a high place in his
favor.
Notwithstanding the fair words of the emperor, the five ambassadors
feared he would evade the question. Ganelon had not been summoned.
Aymon represented to the emperor the enormity of the crime and the
disloyalty of Ganelon, as well as the bad effect it would have on the army to
pardon such a traitor.
The emperor said in reply: “I well know, my noble duke, that what thou
sayest is just and reasonable. I also assure thee that I have already pardoned

Ganelon,” and, he added sternly: “Having given our royal word, we shall
maintain it, it being our good pleasure to do so.”
The Duke d’Aymon made no reply to these plain words and with flushed
face retired.
Maugis, however, could not restrain himself and said boldly to the
emperor:
“Sire! if thou wilt not render justice to this traitor Ganelon, then there be
nothing left for us to do but to take up arms and secure justice for
ourselves.”
At these defiant words, spoken in a firm tone, a great hush fell on the
courtiers there assembled.
Griffon, who stood near the door, said in an undertone to a grizzled
captain of the guard:
“Oho! that’s a brave young cock—but watch and see his comb cut.”
Charlemagne’s brow darkened and his eyes flashed; he half rose and
thundered: “What!” cried he, “have you forgotten the obligations thou art
under to me? If it were not for thy father I should order for thee the
punishment you deserve. If I ever hear that another word from you on this
subject has escaped your lips you will have good cause to regret the
business.”
Maugis then saw that he had gone too far and hastened to offer his
excuses to the emperor, and Charlemagne finally, his anger passing, invited
them to dinner.
It was a trying moment and it was no ordinary man who could calmly
face the anger of the great emperor.
Griffon nudged his companion and whispered: “Seest thou that?”
The young knight was turning away somewhat abashed when casually
glancing at the ladies-in-waiting, a soft pair of blue eyes caught his own,
and forgetting instantly the exciting incident in which he had just had a part,
with a sudden thrill he recognized the lady of the tournament, whose ribbon
knot he even then wore next his heart and whose face had never left him,
either in his wakeful moments or in his dreams.

Momentary as the glance was, he read in those beautiful orbs the deepest
sympathy, and the happy light that sprang into his own eyes told the fair
maiden more than even words could have done.
Momentary as the eye interview was before the modest gaze of the
beautiful girl fell before the ardent look of Maugis, there was one who had
seen it and understood. It had caused the bitterest feelings of hatred and
jealousy to surge in his black heart. That man was the treacherous Ganelon,
who lurked in the rear of a group of courtiers while the exciting events just
chronicled, that so nearly concerned himself, were occurring.
He had in vain pressed his love upon the Princess Yolande, who had not
long before arrived from her home in the south to act as lady-in-waiting on
the empress. She had repulsed his unwelcome attentions in every way her
gentle nature would allow, but the coarse and persistent villain would brook
no rebuff.
Meanwhile the court had adjourned to the banquet hall, where these
unpleasant happenings were soon forgotten by all but a few of the most
concerned. After the emperor had arisen from the table and had withdrawn
at the conclusion of the banquet, Prince Berthelot, the nephew of
Charlemagne, wishing to show some courtesy to the Aymon family, invited
Maugis to a game of chess, a game much in vogue in those days.
Maugis courteously accepted, and they assumed their seats at the board
while the courtiers gathered around to witness the game. Maugis, however,
had only accepted through politeness, because the affair of the day had
sadly depressed him.
After the game had progressed for a time, Maugis had made some
wretched mismoves that attracted the attention of those about.
Ganelon, who stood behind the prince, leaned forward and whispered in
his ear: “In good faith, my prince, thy guest doth seem to ill requite thy
courtesy, for while his hand is on the board his mind seems to be elsewhere,
and for him evidently thou dost not exist.”
A frown covered the brow of the prince, but he made no reply. At this
very moment Maugis made a woefully unpardonable and foolish move, and
a subdued titter ran around among the courtiers who stood about. That was
too much for the prince.

“How now, sir!” he exclaimed hotly, “thou art either an idiot or thou doth
seek to insult me.”
“I crave thy pardon,” replied Maugis, “I made the move while my
thoughts did wander and I assure thee I intended thee no discourtesy.”
“Seest thou not his mood?” hissed Ganelon in the ear of Berthelot. “He is
angered by the reproach of the emperor. Gads! he is in a temper to insult the
saints.” This had its effect.
“Sir Maugis!” cried Berthelot in anger, “thou tellest me in one breath
thou intendest no discourtesy and in the next breath thou dost insult me by
saying thy thoughts wandered, to suffer which is enough an insult.”
“I pray thee pause in thy condemnation, my prince, and accept my
assurances,” said Maugis with great patience.
“Accept thy assurances forsooth!” exclaimed the now thoroughly angry
prince. “Get thee back to thy northern provinces and teach thyself good
manners before thou comest to court again.”
At this direct insult, Maugis, who had been able to contain himself the
entire day with some success, arose from the table, sweeping the chessmen
to the floor.
The now infuriated Berthelot then reached out and gave Maugis a
resounding slap in the face.
This was enough. Maugis seized the heavy chessboard, which was of
gold, and hurled it at the head of the prince with such force that the nephew
of Charlemagne sank expiring to the floor.
In an instant, repenting of what he had done, Maugis sprang forward and
tenderly supported the dying man, who said: “Thou hast done for me,
Maugis. I was the one on whom blame should rest—let it be known,” and
with these words he fell back dead.
These events were followed by the entry of Charlemagne, who, hearing
the loud voices and the noise, had hastened to learn the cause. He
understood instantly.
“What, ho! the guard!” he thundered, and then gave orders to prevent the
escape of the four sons of Aymon that he might wreak the most bitter

vengeance upon them.
The three brothers of Maugis, aided by Gerard and Nanteuil, who also
wished to escape, had meanwhile fought their way to the main door, but
Maugis, who had lingered too long over the body of Berthelot, found
himself faced by a line of gleaming swords in the hands of the courtiers. His
escape by that means was impossible, besides he was unarmed.
Quickly seizing a heavy stool he smote down two courtiers who would
oppose him, ran to the exit leading to the empress’ apartments, laying low
the soldier who guarded that entrance, and fled down the corridor. Without,
as he fled, he could hear the beating of drums arousing the guard and the
hoarse commands of the officers. Ahead he could hear the clang of mailed
feet in the corridor approaching him, and behind came his pursuers from the
audience-chamber. He was in a desperate situation.
Suddenly a door opened in the corridor beside him, a white arm
protruded and seized his doublet, and almost before he knew he stood
behind the locked door of a chamber in the presence of the Princess
Yolande, who, pale as a lily, was leaning half-fainting against the hangings
nearby, while outside the pursuers, not perceiving him, thundered past down
the corridor.
“Princess,” he exclaimed, “you have saved me, and my life is yours.”
“No! no!” she gasped, pointing to the window. “They will soon return.
Go! go! spring through, that leads to the moat, swim that and you are safe.”
Reverently kissing her hand, Maugis jumped to the window and leaped
out into the water below, just as heavy knocks shook the chamber door—the
palace was being searched for him. As he gained the other side in safety he
turned, and throwing a kiss to her as she stood in the window, he
disappeared down a narrow street nearby.
In the meantime his three brothers, with Gerard and Nanteuil, had fought
their way, sword in hand, from the palace, where they were joined by
Maugis, and the little company, well-nigh exhausted, lost no time in taking
the route for the Château d’Aymon, in the province of Ardennes, northern
France.
Charlemagne, furious at their escape, ordered every knight he could find
to mount and go in pursuit, sword in hand.

Meanwhile, the fugitives, of whom Maugis was the only one who had no
horse, soon perceived there was no possible chance to escape their pursuers.
The only thing to be done was to await their coming and face them with
firmness.
Fired by the ambition to be the first to capture Maugis and his
companions, each knight of that imperial company pressed his horse to the
utmost. A single knight, the most prompt, at last presented himself before
Maugis, who stood defiantly in the center of the road facing the oncomers.
The moment of his approach, Maugis, giving him no time for preparation
for defense, ran him through with his sword. A second knight in the
meantime had come up only to be laid low with a stroke of his sword. The
main body was fast approaching, and finally a third knight, outstripping the
rest, approached, and becoming enraged at the sight of the fate that had
befallen his companions, hurled insulting epithets at Maugis, who in turn,
enraged, cast his lance at his enemy from the distance of twenty paces with
such unerring force and accuracy as to lay him on the ground transfixed.
This is how the third brother secured a horse in that memorable fight.
Perceiving it would be useless to engage the numbers now coming upon
them, Maugis mounted upon the crupper of his horse, Bayard, behind
Renaud, and then they fled before their enemies, who were astounded at
their courage and activity.
They, however, continued the pursuit, but without result, and the falling
of night favored the fugitives in their escape from the soldiers of
Charlemagne. Thus, happily escaping, they proceeded on their homeward
journey with all the haste their horses could bear them.
The duchess received them and listened with sorrow to an account of the
danger which had encompassed them, and after allowing time for a
sufficient rest, she gave them some gold, advising them to leave as soon as
possible, for the good reason that their father, bound by his oath of fidelity
to Charlemagne, would be obliged to give them up, if it should be
demanded by the emperor.
Maugis accepted the advice of his mother. During the night he, followed
by his brothers, quietly left the château and disappeared in the forests of the
Ardennes, arriving after a time at the banks of the river Meuse. They on the

following day carefully examined the country round about in order to find a
favorable place in which to establish works of defense, for they knew that
Charlemagne would not rest content until he had wreaked dire vengeance
upon them, and that it would not be long before their location would
become known to him. They therefore sought some inaccessible place of
defense, and having made a selection they proceeded to fortify it with all
possible activity. They builded a château fortress in a high and impregnable
position, upon the summit of a rock, and when complete, called it the
“Château de Montfort.” The river Meuse ran around the foot of the rock,
forming a natural moat, and rendering the place unassailable.
During this time, while the four sons of Aymon were thus preparing
themselves to escape the rage of Charlemagne, he, without caring for the
sorrow of their father, the Duke d’Aymon, for the crime his son had
committed, ordered the duke arrested; but when the duke condemned his
sons and expressed a willingness to make a new oath of fidelity, agreeing to
preserve a strict neutrality in the conflict between the king and his sons,
Charlemagne, who recognized he could get nothing from him, sent him to
his home, when upon his arrival the duchess informed him that his sons
were safe.
He also learned with pleasure of the strong position they had secured to
escape the rage of the emperor, but to baffle the suspicions of Charlemagne,
and to prevent himself from knowing what was passing, he returned to the
court under pretense that he wished to be near the emperor that he might not
be held responsible for the action of his sons.

CHAPTER V.
The news of the construction of a redoubtable fortress was not long in
reaching the ears of the emperor. He was also advised that there were others
concerned in the construction besides Maugis and his four brothers. This
made Charlemagne all the more angry and vindictive. He resolved to attack
him on his own ground. He would combine the forces of all the lords there
were there present, besides all the knights he could find, directing them in
all haste to secure vengeance. He promised to subdue Maugis, raze his
fortress, and give up all the surrounding country to fire and pillage.
Not all the lords present at the time were agreeable to this plan, but
having given their oaths of fidelity, had to submit to the consequences of
their promises. Ganelon finally proposed to pursue a middle course in order
to terminate the war without striking a blow, for Ganelon liked not to fight.
He proposed to negotiate an offer to Maugis to yield up his three brothers
and his cousin Renaud to the emperor, hoping in his secret heart that would
pave the way to the destruction of Maugis afterward. This strange
proposition seemed agreeable to Charlemagne and he consented it should
be made, charging the matter to the Duke de Naimes, his confidant, and
Oger.
These two knights, in due time, presented themselves to Maugis and
rendered their duty, though certain beforehand he would not consider the
subject a moment. They were not deceived.
Maugis received the message, but could not restrain his indignation at the
infamy of the proposal.
“What, my noble lords!” he cried, “wouldst have me deliver my brothers
and my cousin Renaud, because, however unwillingly, they have aided me.
No, a thousand times no,” he exclaimed. “It were far better to die, sword in
hand, than to purchase peace by such an act of cowardice.” Maugis was
furious, but later becoming calm, he invited the two to visit his arsenal and
view his means of defense. Said he to them earnestly: “There is not a knight

among my followers, nor an inhabitant of this citadel, but who would prefer
the most bloody death and to find a grave under its ruins, rather than
surrender Montfort to Charlemagne.”
De Naimes and Oger returned to Paris and repeated the words of Maugis
to the king, making no attempt to conceal their admiration for the brave
young man.
Charlemagne, on the contrary, flew into a violent rage and gave orders to
his army to prepare immediately for an assault on the Château Montfort.
And thus was commenced a lifetime of the most bitter struggles, for the
brave Maugis and his intrepid brothers. A doubly bitter struggle for Maugis,
from the importunity of his friends to use his occult powers to relieve them
when sore beset, but which he conscientiously resisted because he feared it
was an offense to God. And bitterest of all was his love and longing for
Yolande, from whom such cruel fate separated him.
It was only a short time after this when the scouts of Maugis reported the
advance of the army, led by the emperor in person, and so he was not taken
off his guard when early one morning he watched from his high position on
the battlements of his fortress the glint of the sun on the accouterments and
arms of the besieging army surrounding his position on the plain below.
He observed with interest, that to invest his château, Charlemagne was
obliged to very much spread out his forces, and resolved to take advantage
of it. Accordingly, when the time was most favorable, he made a sortie with
his soldiers from a gate invisible to the enemy and threw himself on them
with such great impetuosity that before they had even time to resist the
ground was strewn with the dead. He had become master of the king’s camp
and forthwith fired the tents, burning alike, in the general conflagration,
men and horses and all the supplies of the king’s army.

CHÂTEAU MONTFORT.

After this great success, Maugis rallied his troops and was about to attack
the army of the king, when at that very moment he came face to face with a
detachment headed by his father, the old Duke d’Aymon. To fight his own
father was impossible, therefore Maugis arrested his movements.
On his part the duke prudently retired before the forces of his son, but if
his own life was safe, not so his soldiers. Maugis threw his troops upon
those of his father and those of the king accompanying him, attacking them
on all sides, successfully blocking all means of their escape.
At this juncture Foulques de Morillon appeared. His presence in the
middle of the royal army reanimated the troops and they attacked Maugis in
their turn. Surprised at this sudden movement, Maugis rested a moment in
indecision. His soldiers had become massed together in confusion. To retire
was impossible. Alard, his brother, seeing the dangerous position of Maugis
from the château, took all the men that could be spared and went to his

assistance, rallied the fugitives and joined the battalions of Maugis. These
two then, at the head of their army, attacked shoulder to shoulder, striking
down all who resisted, killing and wounding. Even before this unexpected
succor came, Maugis had charged into the mêlée uttering his cry of war,
which resounded over the battlefield. Every stroke of his gigantic arm told.
It was death to be before him. Nothing could withstand the mad onward
rush of his great form.
It was but a few moments before Maugis stood behind a rampart of men
whom he had slain. In their endeavors to capture him alive the enemy
vainly tried to crush Maugis down with sheer force of numbers, but with a
rare courage and prudence he at last cut through them and rejoined his
brother, and then the two, supported by their soldiers, turned upon the
forces of the king with a renewed frenzy and wrought upon them a fearful
carnage.
The royal army becoming panic-stricken, fled through their burning
camp, and Richard, who pursued them, took a number of prisoners—the
rout was complete.
If the victory was a glorious one the pursuit must not be carried too far,
or in forgetting discretion, a few moments might lose all that had been so
dearly gained. This is why Maugis deemed it wise to stop and rally his
troops. He re-entered the château, his rear being guarded by his three
brothers.
The battle did not, however, pass without an extraordinary episode. Of
the army of the king only the old Duke d’Aymon was followed and
disturbed in his retreat. The four brothers, respecting his oath of fidelity,
followed him and sought to take him prisoner. Maugis, finally becoming
impatient at the barren result of the pursuit, placed himself and his brother
in front of the duke and sought to arrest his progress by striking his horse
over the head. But this did not stop the escort, which came up and attacked
the four brothers. They in their turn returned the attack, and they would
have been inevitably cut to pieces had not Charlemagne, who had in the
meantime come up and saw the situation and lost in admiration of the
bravery of Maugis, and with that rare chivalry so characteristic of that great
monarch, he raised his voice and ordered the conflict to cease. Maugis

stopped immediately at the command of the king, and followed by his men
and the prisoners they had taken, retired into the fortress.
This notable victory made Maugis the master of an immense territory
over which he could roam at will and follow the chase. But Charlemagne,
infuriated by his defeat at the hands of this brave young warrior, would not
quit the place he had chosen for his camp. Maugis, who had from time to
time only a few skirmishes during the ensuing thirteen months, spent a
period, not altogether devoid of pleasure, except for the haunting thought of
the lovely face and sweet eyes of Yolande, and chafed bitterly at the fate
that kept him from her side. And what of her? Did she ever think of him?
In the privacy of her chamber in the great palace at Paris, she shed many
bitter tears when she witnessed the departure of the army that was going to
destroy the man whom she loved above all else on earth. The only comfort
she knew was the absence of Ganelon, whose suit to her had become
persecution.
Since the day of the escape of Maugis by her aid, his attitude had
changed from odious fawning to sternness and threats. He alone knew of
the part she had played on that memorable day. He had read her secret
aright and had taunted her with it, and when goaded by his ceaseless
importunity, she had said, standing with flashing eyes, her glorious figure
drawn up: “Go, sirrah! Never darken my gaze again. I detest thee as much
as I love the man thou hatest, and I care not that thou shouldst know it.”
“Foolish maiden! That sorcerer hath bewitched thee,” hissed Ganelon,
“but did all hell assemble to aid him, his fate is sealed. His doom is sure.
Then, obdurate maid, perchance thou wilt look upon me, who truly loves
thee.”
“Never!” cried Yolande as the villain’s form disappeared through the
door. She was yet to feel the evil that an evil man evilly disposed can do.
As the days passed and no news came from the camp of the emperor, her
heart sank, and finally when the messenger came and the victory of Maugis
became known, her heart was lightened. Then a few days later a travel-worn
monk delivered into her hands a small packet. It contained a ring and a slip
of parchment on which was written:

“I have love for thee that will never die. Sleeping or waking I think of thee only.
Take this ring, shouldst thou ever be in peril or need me, send it. It shall be a token for
me to come that nothing shall prevent. Pray thou to God that our separation may be
short.
Maugis.”

The maiden covered the token with kisses and hid it in her bosom.
Meanwhile, Charlemagne would have made another attack, but Naimes,
more prudent, advised him to await a more favorable opportunity. Then
there came to the emperor, sent by the crafty Ganelon, one who proposed
that he would agree to take the castle and the lords and soldiers therein,
provided he should be given the château and its territories as his reward.
Charlemagne accepted the proposition and Hernier de la Seine, for that
was the man’s name, accompanied by Guyon de Bretagne, left the camp,
followed by some good soldiers. Hernier de la Seine hid Guyon and his
soldiers nearby and advanced alone to the château.
Under pretext of having quarreled with Charlemagne, whom he said had
driven him from camp, he had come to offer his sword to Maugis. This lie,
delivered with an air of candor, completely deceived Maugis, and he freely
promised him a place in the castle and that all his wants should be satisfied.
When night came, Hernier, to reward Maugis for his good action, quietly
stole up on the sentinel guarding one of the gates and slew him, then opened
it for the entrance of Guyon and his soldiers. Quietly dividing their forces
into small detachments they advanced in good order to the principal places.
It seemed as if Maugis and his brave brothers were lost, but the neighing of
their horses in the stables awakened them and a loud noise struck their ears
without their being able to imagine the true cause. In times of war, however,
caution is paramount, and acting on this thought all four arose and went out.
What they saw did not leave them deceived as to the gravity of their
situation. Guyon, now master of the place, guarded all the means of exit.
Other soldiers were engaged in setting fire to various places in the fortress.
In such a lamentable position there was but one thing to do, that was to
seek to dominate events with courage and coolness.
The four brothers separated after a hasty consultation with some of their
men and each attacked the men guarding the points of issue. They soon
overcame the enemy, who were deprived of assistance from without. In vain

the traitors tried to escape. The four redoubtable brothers opposed them
irresistibly, until the gateways were encumbered with the dead. Hernier and
twelve others were all who escaped the carnage, and were taken prisoners,
and the men were hurled without pity from the walls of the castle into the
moat.

SURPRISE OF THE CASTLE.

CHAPTER VI.
Maugis now perceived that their position was no longer tenable, as the
flames by this time had made great headway and everything around them
was doomed to destruction. He at once advised his brothers that it would be
best to gather the remainder of their garrison together and that very night
quietly vacate the fortress. When all had assembled, Hernier de la Seine was
brought out, and despite all his excuses and abject protestations of devotion
in the future, he was hurled from the ramparts to accompany his twelve
acolytes.
Having accomplished this act of justice the little band mounted their
horses and quietly rode away without trusting themselves one look behind
at the ruins of their poor castle. Maugis, above all, was inconsolable, and
but for the restraining words of his brother Alard, would have at one time
retraced his steps.
In the meantime the emperor awaited the result of the enterprise of
Hernier de la Seine with impatience, until two wounded soldiers, who had
escaped the massacre, arrived in camp and announced the disaster to the
royal troops.
The emperor, always very violent, could not receive such news without
flying into a fury. He could not regard such a check otherwise than as a
disgrace. He was even more disturbed at the escape of the fugitives, but
hoping to capture them he sent a corps of his army in pursuit.
Guichard was the first to receive the news of this movement from a
friendly peasant, and Maugis promptly combined the forces of the four, and
placing them in a favorable position, turned and suddenly fell upon the
pursuing army, having first placed their impedimenta and non-combatants
in charge of a few trusted men.
The suddenness of this unexpected attack completely demoralized the
enemy, who not being able to withstand the charge retreated. In spite of the

bravery of Charlemagne, who had arrived on the scene, his soldiers fled for
safety.
The king, wild with rage, rushed at Maugis and aimed a furious blow at
him, with all the force of his mighty arm, which Maugis skillfully parried.
Quick as lightning, Hughes, who saw the peril of the emperor, threw
himself between the combatants and fell mortally wounded under the blow
of Maugis that was intended for his chief.
“Forward!” shouted Charlemagne, and the pursuit of the four brothers
commenced anew, without the loss of any time.
The four young men, however, had profited by the stupor caused by the
peril to the emperor, and quickly assembling their men, fled once more,
pursued closely for twelve leagues. During this time Maugis performed
prodigies of valor by hovering in the rear of his command. Man after man
fell under his irresistible sword and he did not lose a soldier during the
entire running fight.
A swollen river was finally reached, and the emperor, exultant, now
thought the end had come. But even this did not stop the intrepid brothers,
for boldly plunging in they gained the other side in safety, leaving their
astonished enemy on the banks of the flood, convinced this time that it was
impossible to vanquish Maugis.
In face of this result in which he had met his match, and which
Charlemagne received with consternation, he abandoned the pursuit and
retraced his steps. Then, disbanding his army, he put off until some other
time the taking of his vengeance.
In passing the ruins of the Château de Montfort, he caused it to be razed
to the ground, tumbling the remaining walls into the moat and placing it
beyond all possibility of repair.
Maugis and his followers now traveled more tranquilly, when, at the
moment, supposing they were beyond all danger, they stumbled on the
troops of their father, the Duke d’Aymon, who, with other lords and peers of
the court, were proceeding to their homes. The duke, holding his duty to his
emperor above all others, summoned his sons to surrender or to fight.
This the young men refused to do and begged their father to have a
regard for their position and not reduce them to the last extremities.

The duke, however, turned a deaf ear to the prayer of his sons and
ordered his troops to charge, himself riding at their head. The young men,
fearing to wound or kill their parent, were in a most desperate place. Their
men were falling all around them—so rapidly was their force diminishing,
that of five hundred troops they had at beginning of the conflict only fifty
now remained who were capable of fighting.
They must do something to relieve them of their terrible position.
Then it was that Maugis dismounted, and giving his horse, Bayard, to
Alard, who followed him closely, suddenly ran to his father, and taking him
by surprise, threw his muscular arms around him and held him firmly, Alard
having meanwhile struck down Hermanfroi, who would have prevented
them. During the delay this astonishing scene caused they had traversed
with their men a small river that was their last chance of safety.
When he saw this movement was completed Maugis released his father,
after having begged his pardon, and throwing himself on his horse behind
the waiting Alard, gained the banks of the river in safety, and was soon on
the other side, despite all efforts to bar his passage.
The old duke at once returned to the emperor to acquaint him of his
defeat, but well pleased in his own heart that his sons should have escaped.
The great Charlemagne well illustrated the contradictory aspects of his
character by his reception of the old duke as he himself possessed a strong
paternal feeling. Said he:
“By the beard of St. Anthony! an unnatural father art thou, who would
destroy his own children. Out of my presence! Come here no more with
falsehoods on thy lips hoping to obtain new favors.”
Honest, and the reverse of all this, the poor old duke bowed his head,
sighed, and departed for his château. There he recounted to his wife what
had occurred and the humiliation he had received. But Edwige, instead of
consoling him, reproached him bitterly for his actions.
“Thou need not,” she cried, “carry thy fidelity to the king to such a point
as to destroy thine own children.”
“I know, I see now!” sighed the poor old duke, holding out his arms to
the sorrowing mother as a sign of reconciliation.

“I promise thee faithfully never again will I do anything against the
interest of my sons,” he cried with tears in his eyes.

CHAPTER VII.
The four sons of Aymon, reduced to the last extremities, without soldiers,
or without any resources whatever, wandered in the forests of the Ardennes,
shelterless and hungry.
Maugis, finally, when their position became unsupportable, suggested
that the only thing left for them to do was to return to the château of their
father. Said he:
“Whether the sentiments of our father are just or not, what right have we
to doubt the devotion of our mother? Has she not always given to us her
love? Do not our own people love us? What is there then to fear? Nothing!
besides, the life we have been living for some time past has so changed us I
doubt if any one will know us.”
Besides the starvation and ruin that stared him in the face, the noble soul
of Maugis was sadly torn by concern for the position of Yolande, his
beloved one, in the court of Charlemagne. He had learned that she was
practically a hostage for the loyalty of her brother, King of Yon, the ruler of
a small principality in the south, though her position at the court was as
lady-in-waiting to the empress.
He knew the persecutions of Ganelon were well-nigh unbearable and that
she could not escape them by leaving the court.
He chafed at the fate that held him bound hand and foot, and longed for
the chance to rescue Yolande—how, he knew not. The case seemed
hopeless. Charlemagne, now thoroughly embittered, would pursue them to
the end, and what would that be?
While these sad reflections were passing through his mind, his brothers
had consulted among themselves and decided to follow his advice, and the
four waited patiently for night to fall, that they might take up their route
home.

They finally arrived in their own province the next day, after a long and
exhausting march, and at a moment when it was most favorable for them to
enter the château.
Their father was away hunting. Nobody recognized them. Their horses
having every appearance of hard usage, every one thought they had
returned from the wars in the holy land, and when they appeared at the
gates of the château they were opened to them willingly, for great sanctity
was attached to those who had been to the holy sepulcher, and the blessing
of God was supposed to rest upon all such.
They demanded to see the duchess.
On hearing of the arrival of the four knights she hastened to them, and on
beholding them so pale, worn and wasted, she could hardly control her
feelings.
“Welcome, sir knights!” cried she to them, not recognizing her sons;
“accept the hospitality I offer you with all my heart, and be assured I shall
do everything in my power to assist you.”
Maugis was choking with sobs, and tears were running from his eyes.
“Ah, my mother!” cried he, “why is it our father does not feel toward us
the way you do, and why is it that because we embraced a cause we thought
was right we have incurred disgrace?”
At these words the duchess recognized her son, thin and wasted as he
was, and his face concealed by a beard. She tottered toward him to throw
herself in his arms, but fell to the floor in a faint. The strain had been too
great.
Coming to herself soon, she embraced her sons and asked them how they
had escaped death.
Suddenly a great noise was heard outside. It was the Duke d’Aymon, who
had returned from the chase, and the duchess, having first hidden her sons
in an adjoining chamber, hastened to meet him.
When she met him she could not restrain her tears and he knew that she
had received news of her sons.

She recounted to him their terrible sufferings and the awful dangers to
which they had been exposed and how anxious they were to receive his
pardon.
The stern old duke was a prey to all sorts of emotions. On the one hand
his father’s heart would accord to his sons the pardon they asked of him. On
the other he feared the irritation the emperor would feel. The burning of
Montfort had made him fearful of the safety of his own estates.
It was at this point of incertitude that the duchess, anxious to bring the
matter to a finish, startled him by bringing his sons before him, who threw
themselves at his feet and supplicated him for grace.
“My father!” cried Maugis, “if you only knew what misery your anger
has caused your children you would forgive them. What greater sorrow
could you cause them? Whom have we to trust in all this wide world but
you? We would never have willingly fought against Charlemagne if we
could have hoped for peace any other way.”
“Alas!” replied the duke, “do you think the emperor would ever consent
to accord peace to rebels? Never! The wrong you have already done has
caused me to rest under the suspicion of complicity with you which will
prevent me from affording you shelter.”
On hearing those stern words the duchess burst into tears. “Fear not, dear
children,” she cried, “your father loves you and his indecision need cause
you no uneasiness.”
“We would be very unwilling to cause our father any trouble,” said Alard.
“We will go away, perhaps we can find some stranger who will not refuse
us the assistance we cannot get from him.”
At this stinging reproach the duke could not restrain his tears.
“No, my children!” said he with a broken voice, “it is I who will go, and
you shall be left here with your mother. She will give you all the attention
you require and provide you with necessary means. I shall ignore all these
kindnesses to you, and you must guard it as a secret, my meeting you at this
time.”
He then descended to the courtyard, remounted his horse, and followed
by his suite, started out.

After the duke had gone the duchess embraced her sons, and assured
them of the good feelings of their father, that his only fear was the
displeasure of Charlemagne, who perhaps might compel him to remain near
him at Paris.
They also feared that the secret of their presence would be exposed at any
moment. The duchess conducted her sons to the chamber where the arms of
the duke were kept, and each of the brothers chose what he needed. They
took, at the same time, complete outfits of clothing and armor, and made
preparations to depart the following night.
Mainfroi, the son of the esquire of the duke, on whose devotion the
family could fully rely, was charged with all the arrangements. Maugis,
pleased with the ardor with which Mainfroi acquitted himself of these
duties, proposed to him to become his own esquire, which Mainfroi
accepted with joy. He undertook also to obtain three other esquires and have
them ready for the moment of departure, praying that the brothers would
confide all to him completely.
The next day Mainfroi, in the name of the duke, made a levy of one
hundred men and ordered them to report at Sedan within three days.
Each brother then received a large sum of money from the treasury of the
duke, their father.
In the dead of night the four brothers took tearful leave of their sorrowing
mother, mounted their horses, and silently departed out into the world.
Once outside they met Mainfroi and the three esquires, and directing
their course to Sedan, were joined by the one hundred men-at-arms
arranged for them.
Thinking it prudent to go southward, they set out and had proceeded as
far as the village of Haraucourt, in the valley of the Emmenee, a romantic
place where the hills towered above on either side and shut in the nestling
village. They suddenly encountered their father returning to the château,
followed by three hundred men. The duke rode up to them and said in low
tones that he would not fight them, but that he must do something to
deceive the emperor, and that he designed to allow them the three hundred
men then with him as an addition to their force, De Baudelot, the chief of
the troops, being in the secret.

This preparatory interview having terminated, the duke feigned to
become very angry at his sons. He swore that he would exterminate them,
and ordered his soldiers to charge upon them. Commandant de Baudelot,
agreeable to the understanding between them, roared out: “Let not a man
move, or by Saint Gris I will cut him down to the saddle!”
The duke gazed frowningly upon the bronzed faces of his men, but not
one of them made motion to obey him—and then turning, apparently
furious, upon the immovable De Baudelot, he berated him roundly and
thereupon left, followed only by a few servitors, promising the rebellious
De Baudelot and his sons the most dire vengeance.
This stratagem was so well carried out that it deceived everybody, and
the duke, to make it more sure, when he returned to his palace, spread the
story, how his wayward sons, having secured entrance to the château,
hoping to gain his pity, had in a cowardly manner taken his treasure and
corrupted his soldiers.
To render the matter yet more plausible he even dispatched a messenger
to Charlemagne.
The emperor, however, who had several times condemned the conduct of
the duke to his sons, tacitly approved their conduct in this case.
In the meantime, the brothers continued their march onward, not having
quite decided upon their course. It was Maugis’ wish to get to Paris and
rescue Yolande, if possible; but unless strategy could be used, it could not
be accomplished with any means short of a large army. Still the disquietude
and anxiety of Maugis was so great as to nearly overcome his prudence, and
he was almost ready to march on Paris with his small force.
So they continued onward; one day De Baudelot, having ridden ahead to
reconnoiter the road, was joined by the brothers. All at once the quick eye
of Maugis discerned the glint of arms on the road over a neighboring hilltop
in the morning sunshine, indicating that a large force was approaching.
Scouts were at once sent out, and soon the joyful news was brought to them
that Renaud, their cousin, son of the unfortunate Duke d’Aigremont, was at
the head of the approaching army.
When they met they were all much affected. After the first moments of
joy, Renaud explained to them that he had learned that Charlemagne had

raised a large army. For what purpose he knew not, but he, supposing that a
breach between the Duke d’Aymon and Charlemagne had been followed by
a reconciliation between the duke and his sons, and that the consequences
would be an attack from Charlemagne, had, on his part, taken his father’s
army and was on his way to offer his services to the duke.
Maugis soon apprised Renaud of the real state of affairs, and Renaud
then swore he would accompany him wherever he might go, and that his
army and his sword would be at the disposal of his cousins.
Renaud then told Maugis that there was accompanying him a messenger
from the kingdom of Yon, whom he had overtaken, footsore and weary,
journeying on his way to the Château d’Aymon, bearing a message for
Maugis.
The traveler, immediately summoned, placed in the hands of Maugis a
silken-bound packet, which he opened with trembling hand, knowing well it
was news from Yolande.
The packet contained the ring and these words:
“Know thou by this token, which the saints grant may truly find thy hand, that it is
Yolande who doth send thee greeting. The foul Ganelon did persecute and vex me
sorely, and angered by my scorn of him, did finally gain the ear of the king, and did
me such ill service with his majesty by telling him of the part I took in thy escape
from the palace, made more heinous by many and divers deceits, prompted by his
ungodly heart, until the king became enraged with me, and the empress also did much
disfavor and condemn me, so that forthwith I was sent back to my brother’s kingdom
in disgrace. The emperor, because of my ill doing, hath frowned on my brother, King
Yon, and hath denied him support. And thou canst haste thee to our succor, and if thou
canst not and needst succor thyself, come hither and we can at least die together. My
prayers do ever attend thee. The Saracens, from over the border in Spain, do now lay
siege to our capital and we are sore beset. May the saints defend us.
Yolande.”

These simple words gave Maugis sore distress. He called his friends
together, and it was then and there decided to march forthwith to the south
of France and give succor to the kingdom of Yon.
At Sedan they organized their army by uniting their troops and marched
to Rheims. There they were stopped by meeting a force of three hundred
men, whom they prepared to fight. Maugis arrested the charge and went
forward to reconnoiter. Then he recognized them as some new troops which
had come to serve him.

After having marched some days they reached Poitiers, where they rested
for a time, drilling and equipping their troops, laying contributions on the
subjects of Charlemagne.
From here they marched in all haste to the frontiers of Spain, where they
learned more particularly that Yon, King of Acquitaine, had been dethroned
by Boulag Akasir, the renowned chief of the Saracens, had fled to
Bordeaux, and that now the infidel forces were about to besiege that city,
the last resort of King Yon and his court.
Tom with conflicting emotions at the danger which threatened Yolande,
Maugis ordered all haste to be made to the rescue of the unfortunate prince,
sending in advance four knights, hastening them forward to offer the
services of the oncoming forces. On their arrival they found a great many
other knights who had already come to offer their services.
The arrival of Maugis created a great sensation. His gigantic stature, his
noble air, won the attention and admiration of everybody. Tall and stately,
Yolande stood beside her brother, the king, amid that brilliant assemblage,
but her glance was freezing when it fell upon the expectant Maugis. Her
greeting was formal and cold and she averted her face from him with a
certain disdain.
Shocked, humbled and heart-stricken by this cruel treatment, the mighty
Maugis nearly lost self-control. As it was he stumbled back to the little
group of his friends, powerless to utter a word, and bade Renaud, his
cousin, to be spokesman to the king, which he did as follows:
“Sire,” said Renaud, “we are five knights of high birth and we seek to
place our courage and our swords at the service of your majesty. That our
position may justify our words, we have come with seven hundred men and
we demand no other recompense for our devotion than to receive at all
times the protection of your majesty.”
“It pleases me much,” replied the king, “to receive thy service, brave
knights, and right gladly will I accept thy offer. Grant me thy names that I
may know to whom I am so deeply indebted.”
At the mention of the name of Maugis, he was startled. He had heard of
the brilliant exploits of that brave young man, which by that time had
become known throughout France.

He expressed his satisfaction at having him near him, and assured the
four brothers and their cousin of his protection. Said he: “If you are
miserable, I myself am nearly dethroned. I am likewise miserable, therefore
we will unite our fortunes. I will count on your courage and you may count
on my protection and friendship.”

CHAPTER VIII.
Boulag Akasir had by this time come to the environs of Bordeaux and
was threatening that city. He established his camp a short distance away, his
army consisting of twenty thousand troops, and feeling sure of victory,
commenced at once to devastate the suburbs.
These exciting events, while they in a measure diverted Maugis from his
perplexity and gloom by appealing to his warlike spirit, by no means
lightened the intense depression. The coldness of Yolande and her
inexplicable aversion and avoidance of him were maddening. Do what he
would, she would not meet him and a note that he addressed to her
demanding the reason of her strange conduct was returned to him with the
seal unbroken.
Had Maugis been less absorbed by the prospect of being united to
Yolande when he first entered the court of King Yon, he would have seen
among the entourage of the king an evil face that glanced at him in no
friendly way. It was that of a monk, who had but recently arrived from the
north, and whose great learning and piety had gained him almost instant
favor and an influential position in court. This friar, Anselm Gorieux, was
the uncle of the perfidious Ganelon, who was inspired by bitter hatred and
jealousy of Maugis. This monk hated Maugis, as well on his own account,
because in a conflict at wit with Maugis, at a banquet, the latter had turned
the laugh against him and caused his proud soul to chafe under the
humiliation, and to resolve upon the direst revenge. He had purposely come
to the court of King Yon, in the interest of his nephew, urged by him to seek
the ear of Yolande and prejudice Maugis, persistently hoping that with his
rival dethroned from her favor his own chances might improve, and that he
yet might be able to win her.
The crafty monk found little difficulty in gaining the confidence of
Yolande, to whose fervent religious nature his great piety, humility and
learning at once appealed.

Cautiously, so as not to alarm his timid prey, he held much discourse with
her upon the awful power of the evil one; how he possessed himself of the
souls of those who were willing to barter them for worldly gain. Then he
held up to her, casually, Maugis as such a one; told her that even an
emissary of Satan had abode under his father’s roof, and under the guise of
a learned man of the east had taught the young man the worst of black arts
and sorceries.
The monk told her Maugis had been won over to Satan, had become a
sorcerer, and a practicer of all the foul arts. He showed her how the great
exploits that had made him the hero of the day were simply manifestations
of the evil one to whom he had sold his soul; that his time of glory was
brief, and he, and all who loved him, would finally rest under the curse of
God.
Yolande, as she slowly comprehended these dreadful revelations, was
grief-stricken and dismayed. Her idol was shattered, and although she
concealed the anguish that consumed her heart, she nearly sobbed her
reason away in the quiet of her chamber.
The surprise of Friar Anselm was indeed great at the unexpected presence
of Maugis at the court. He had not looked for this and would have certainly
devoted himself to prejudicing the king also, only the exciting events then
occurring gave him no opportunity.
Meanwhile a force of the Saracens was devastating the suburbs of
Bordeaux, and the alarm caused by this movement spread quickly.
Maugis, to observe for himself the operations, mounted the walls, and his
trained eye saw at once it was only a small part of the main army of the
enemy who were making the attack. He then advised his brothers and his
cousin Renaud to arm and place themselves in readiness at the head of their
men. Arming himself also he hastened to the king.
He gave King Yon the assurance that the advance guard of the enemy
would be destroyed, and having accomplished that he would attack the
main army, he and his brothers, and that they would drive him from the
field. He recommended the king to hold himself in readiness to come to
their succor if it should be required. As he left the royal presence he cast
one look at Yolande, who stood there pale and proud, but who only gazed

upon him coldly. He little knew that within, and beneath that forbidding
exterior, her gentle heart was surging with love and pity for him.
A sad heart makes some men more determined, and it was this feeling
that possessed Maugis as he hastened to place himself at the head of the
attacking party.
When he saw the forces of Maugis emerge from the gate of Bordeaux,
Boulag Akasir advanced promptly to meet him. His unvarying successes
had made him arrogant and over-confident, and when he perceived this
small army of King Yon he hoped to capture it. But he counted without
Maugis, who, cool and calm, disposed his troops skillfully and quietly
encouraged his men both by voice and gesture.
At a given signal the troops of Maugis charged upon the enemy with
great vigor, and they being accustomed to conduct just the reverse from
their opponents, stopped, struck with stupor. Boulag Akasir, who saw at
once that it was their chief who had infused that small army with so much
ardor, rushed upon Maugis to fell him, but the latter skillfully parried the
awful blow, which instead laid low a knight of Bordeaux. Alard, in his turn,
attacked the Saracen, but that celebrated warrior seemed to bear a charmed
life and evaded with amazing dexterity the furious blows aimed at him.
The battle then became general all along the line. The brothers Aymon
were everywhere, and each performed prodigious deeds of valor.
Yolande, breathless with anxiety and almost fainting, witnessed the
bravery of Maugis from the walls, and in her inmost heart could not believe
that such great actions could be inspired by the evil one.
It was now King Yon, who, until this time had remained a spectator,
could no longer resist action, and giving his war-cry, rushed at the head of
his troops to the side of Maugis, and hurled himself upon the Saracens,
taking them completely by surprise. But they resisted desperately, as
Saracens always do, because their religion would never permit them to fly,
and who would stand and even submit to have their throats cut rather than
retreat.
Boulag, seeing his army diminishing every minute, and wishing to
preserve his soldiers for another battle under more favorable auspices, gave

the signal to retreat. But that order was contrary to the law of Mohammed
and his troops executed it very unwillingly.
During this period of hesitation, Maugis, supported by his Cousin
Renaud and his brothers, were creating havoc in the ranks of the confused
enemy, until, finally, becoming panic-stricken, the Saracens took to flight.
Boulag himself turned his back and fled, with Maugis in pursuit.
The chief of the Saracens was mounted on an Arab horse of great speed,
and Bayard, the magnificent horse of Maugis, had great difficulty in
keeping up with him. But he persistently followed until the chase had kept
up for three hours, and fully thirty miles had been covered at this terrific
pace. The blood of Maugis was up and it was a pursuit of life and death.
In the meantime every one thought that Maugis was lost. They searched
for him everywhere, but he could not be found. They gave him up for dead
and the whole army uttered cries of sorrow and despair. The three brothers
of Maugis were inconsolable. Supported by her maidens, Yolande was
removed, half-fainting to her chamber. It was in vain King Yon tried to
reassure the brothers.
Renaud, however, who never despaired, assembled two hundred soldiers,
and accompanied by the king and the three brothers, followed in the tracks
of the pursuer and pursued.

OLD SPANISH HOUSES.

Meanwhile, Maugis had caught up with Boulag Akasir, who, trembling at
the persistence of the pursuit, and infuriated withal, saw that he could not
escape defending himself, and suddenly turned and struck at Maugis with
his lance. Quick as the movement was, Maugis luckily saw it and with
consummate skill parried the blow with such force that the weapon of
Boulag was shivered in pieces over his shield. Profiting by the momentary
stupefaction of his enemy, Maugis felled the horse of the Saracen to the
ground, stunned by a blow of his sword. Boulag was himself stunned, but
quickly arose to his feet and faced Maugis. He, however, with true chivalry,
would not take advantage of his position, but descended from his own horse

to do battle with him on equal footing, even courteously waiting for his
opponent to recover his breath.
Then there commenced a terrible conflict, a duel to the death, in which
the furious strokes and parryings followed each other with lightning
rapidity. But the brave Boulag finally fell to the earth sore wounded. In an
instant Maugis was upon him and was about to give him a finishing stroke,
when Boulag cried: “Grace! I pray thee!”
“Dog of an infidel,” replied Maugis, “thou doest well to crave mercy,
thou who hast never given!”
“Sir knight,” pleaded Boulag, “I will give thee anything thou mayst ask
of me, so long as my life be spared.”
“No!” answered Maugis, “I will take nothing from thee, but thou art
brave and I will accord thee life only on one condition. That is that you
abjure thy religion of Mohammed and become converted to mine.”
“I accept thy terms,” cried Boulag, “the more willing because I never
have been a firm believer in Mohammed.”
Then regaining his feet he tendered his sword to Maugis, but Maugis
generously refused to take it from him.
They then mounted horse and set out for Bordeaux. Maugis, with his
prisoner, giving thanks that he had been able to exterminate the army of the
Saracens.
Thus the conqueror and the conquered were quietly pursuing their way to
the city, whiling the time in conversation on religion and other topics, when
they were met unexpectedly by King Yon and his suite. Thereupon there
was a most happy meeting between Maugis, his three brothers and his
Cousin Renaud.
“Sire,” then said Maugis, “I deliver up to thee Boulag Akasir, who has
delivered himself into my hands and hath abjured his religion to be
henceforth a Christian. I pray thee grant him all the regard due a brave
knight.”
“Brave knight!” exclaimed the king to Maugis, “I should ill, indeed,
requite thee, savior of my kingdom, did I other than thou desirest with this

mighty warrior. So be it. He shall be presented to our court with a dignity
becoming his rank, and the past shall be forgotten.”
In the excess of his gratitude. King Yon further insisted on dividing his
kingdom into three parts. One to be given Maugis, one to the three brothers
and Renaud, and the remaining portion to the army.
Maugis would not hear of this and was inflexible in his refusal to accept.
King Yon was much disconcerted by the declination of Maugis to accept
any reward, and casting about in his mind for some delicate way to reward
him for his inestimable services, the thought came of offering him the hand
of his beautiful sister. He could think of no greater way of showing his
regard, but at the time he remained silent on the subject.
Boulag, having in due form been made a Christian, was longing ardently
to return to his native land. He appealed to the tender-hearted Yolande to
secure him this boon. She willingly undertook to do so, and pleaded his
cause so earnestly with the king that the request was granted, provided he
paid to Maugis a ransom; the king courteously pretending to conduct the
negotiations in the name of Maugis. The king, agreeable to the proposition
of Boulag himself, fixed the ransom at six mule-loads of gold and that he
also abandon Toulouse, and the country thereabouts.
Having thus been freed, Boulag, accompanied by some faithful servitors,
departed for his own land.
Yon, who had now become richer and more powerful than ever, tried to
induce Maugis to accept entire the ransom of Boulag, but he again refused,
praying the king to reserve his bounty until the day came when he should
demand his services.
That day was very soon in presenting itself.
The war being concluded, and Boulag having departed with his followers
from the territories of King Yon, there remained little for Maugis, his three
brothers and Renaud to do, but ride about the country and pursue the chase.
One day Maugis, followed by his companions, were riding out when a
view burst upon their eyes that caused them, as if moved by one impulse, to
stop. They were riding on the banks of the Dordogne. The eyes of Maugis
were fixed upon a mountain on the other side of the river which, surrounded

by beautiful plains, rose high into the blue sky. Easy of access, while
perfect for defense, its top presented a fine level surface upon which to
build.
This site suggested to Maugis an idea he had long entertained. Said he:
“Montfort no longer exists, but we can easily replace it if we choose. Here
is a situation which combines all the necessary conditions of impregnability,
and here we could brave the anger of Charlemagne.”
His companions being equally impressed in favor of this idea, the five
gave the place a most careful examination, and on their return to the court
they sought the royal presence, and Maugis said: “Sire, we are homeless
and would make for ourselves an abiding place. We have found a certain
mountain near the river Dordogne, on which we could build a château, if we
have thy royal favor.”
King Yon, anxious to reward the great services of the brave knights, was
about to give his consent when the crafty monk, Gorieux, stepped to his
side and whispered in his ear:
“Sire! I pray thee have a care. Dost want the wrath of Charlemagne to
descend on thee, then harbor these outlaws, for such they be, and no sooner
shall the emperor learn that thou hast housed them and enriched them than
thy peace, and perhaps thy life, will be jeopardized.”
At these words the king only frowned and replied: “Dost suppose the fear
of any such consequences will deter me from rewarding these brave men
who have saved me my kingdom and my very life?” and turning to the five
knights he not only gave them the mountain, but besides, authorized them
to construct a château upon it, and gave them likewise all the land that
surrounded it.
Such a great favor as this did not fail to create jealousy among certain of
his courtiers. One of his peers, who was in love with the beautiful Yolande,
and who had been jealous of Maugis ever since his arrival, could not
support the idea of this being carried out without an attempt to discourage
the king from making a false move. He therefore remarked:
“Sire! without doubt these brave knights are masters of the situation, but
is it wise or for thy well being to support and nourish a foreign force at thy

door, whom chance might make thy master, or is it wise to support these
men in all their exigencies? Reward them well and suffer them to depart.”
The king, however, was not to be moved, and appealing to Maugis, said:
“Sir knight! if I grant thee this favor it would be well we should know
what to expect from thee on thy part, for in so doing I put myself at thy
mercy in a certain sense, but,” continued the king, “I have every confidence
and I believe you will never abuse it.”
In reply the five knights kneeled before the king, kissed his hand and
then swore eternal fidelity.
The brothers and Maugis were not long in commencing the work and the
fortress was rapidly constructed. The fortifications were made truly
formidable, and the mountain bestrewn with heavy walls and towers to
protect the principal works, which in due time were finished.
Maugis and Renaud prayed that King Yon would come and baptize the
new fortress, an invitation which he courteously accepted, and the imposing
ceremonies were attended by all the court. Maugis, however, observed with
a sad heart the absence of Yolande. His mind was torn with various doubts
and conjectures to account for the strange conduct of the princess, and he
resolved at the first opportunity to seek an interview and demand an
explanation.
The fortress was named Montaubon, and Maugis then sent to all the
surrounding country and caused to be published an edict of the king, that
whosoever would take service under Maugis in the new city would be
granted six years freedom.⁠[1]
[1] In those feudal days the common people were in a condition of serfdom, little better
than slavery.

This had the effect of rapidly filling the new city with inhabitants, and
soon Maugis, Renaud and the three brothers took possession of their new
domain.
Meanwhile the complaints of the discontented courtiers grew louder and
deeper, and rumors of the alliance of Maugis with the evil one, cautiously
spread by the crafty monk, flew from lip to lip, until reaching the ears of
Maugis, caused him to become aware of the seriousness of the position and
the impending liability of his falling under the displeasure of the king.

Active steps must at once be taken, and he, who had never a thought of
breaking his oath, at once renewed his oath of fidelity.
The council of state was convened when he presented himself, and he
took the occasion to face his accusers and demand of the discontented to
formulate their complaints to his face, and that he would satisfactorily
explain anything that could be offered.
Then spoke Adelbert Leon de Bayonne: “Sire!” said he, “it doubtless be
true this knight hast rendered thee great service and it is fitting thou should
reward him, but thou art not called upon to abandon all caution and deliver
thyself into his power. He is now installed in a strong fortress, and with a
powerful army in the midst of thy kingdom thou hast placed him in a
position of power over thee.”
“And what else be there to my disfavor?” demanded Maugis.
“Sire!” said Gorieux, the monk, “there is much reason for believing this
knight hath given himself into the service of the evil one. It is well known
that he, in his tender youth, hath been in the power of a learned magician of
the East, a worker of evil, a follower of the evil arts, a minion of Satan, who
hath instilled into him much magical knowledge, and hath persuaded him to
give his soul up to Satan.”
A dark frown overspread the face of Maugis at these words, but he
controlled himself.
“Are there others who would accuse me?” he demanded, fixing his stern
gaze on the assembled courtiers.
Silence was the only reply, and stepping forward, Maugis said
impressively: “Sire! if it be true that I am in the service of Satan, how ill
hath he requited me? I am persecuted by the emperor, attacked, pursued,
hunted and banished from my home. It is true, a learned pundit from the
East, a good and holy man, though his beliefs were not our beliefs, was my
tutor. It is true he taught me much of occult things, but only relating to the
laws of nature, which are as an open book to the wise of the Orient. It is
true that this knowledge of the mysteries of nature, when I seek to direct
them to my use, would give me certain powers over men, and it is true that
this noble, wise man died blessing those who had saved him from death and
counseling me ever to be true to my faith and my honor. Callest thou this

noble philosopher a minion of evil? Can any man say here aught but that in
battle I have relied on any occult aid other than this good sword and my
strong arm? Or, if I be a follower of the evil one, why should I seek to make
Boulag Akasir a Christian?”
These brave and candid words made a deep impression on the council.
“More, sire!” continued Maugis, “I stand now ready to swear my fealty
to my God and his saints and to never henceforth on any occasion seek to
use my occult powers; to utterly abandon and to never recall them. As to my
fidelity to your majesty, my brothers and myself have given our word, and
you all know we are incapable of breaking it. If thou knowest of any other
means whereby we can reassure you, be pleased to indicate them and we
will accept them.”
The fairness, the candor, and the noble bearing of Maugis convinced the
king of his sincerity, and even those who hated the brave knight were
conquered though not changed.
The council then broke up, the king retiring with Godefroy de Moulin,
his counselor, promising to consider the matter and soon give his decision.

CHAPTER IX.
The scheming Abbé Gorieux, thinking to complete the alienation which
he had successfully commenced between Maugis and Yolande, conceived
the idea that if Yolande could witness the proceedings of the council she
would herself be convinced of the perfidy of Maugis, and seeing his
discomfiture and downfall would wholly dismiss him from her heart, and
thus pave the way anew for the suit of his nephew, Ganelon. The crafty
priest knew that the princess possessed great riches. It was a stake well
worth striving for.
He easily obtained the consent of the princess to this plan, for much as
she had doubted him, and much as she had heard to his prejudice, down in
her heart she still loved Maugis and still believed him innocent of the
charges.
Accordingly, from behind the hangings of the council chamber, unseen
by any one, Yolande had witnessed the events related in the preceding
chapter, and when the meeting broke up she fled along the corridors to her
chamber with light foot and light heart.
“He is true to his God,” she said to herself. “I knew it and I love him.”
Then the thought of her cold and unkind treatment and avoidance of him
presented itself to her mind, and, seized with doubt as to whether he would
longer love her, she, in a revulsion of feeling, threw herself on a couch and
wept bitterly. At last the work of the treacherous priest had been overthrown
and defeated.
In the meantime the king had counseled with his advisers and Maugis
had been summoned to again appear before him. The king was visibly
embarrassed when he thus addressed him:
“Brave knight!” said he, “inasmuch as you have expressed your
willingness to take any means to reassure those of my court who seem to
profess doubt, I have two conditions to impose—take note of my desire that
you will gladly accept them. One is that thou shalt make oath of thy fealty

to God and the saints and forever promise to abandon occult things; the
other: you well know that my sister Yolande is beautiful and that she will
bring great dower to him whom she weds. You know well how gladly each
one here would possess her. Accept her then as your wife. I am already
under deep obligations to you, and to make sure our friendship I seek thus
to ally thee to our family. Become my brother, and I suppose then those of
my subjects who have manifested fears will be not only completely
reassured, but more so than ever, in that thou wilt possess such a precious
gage of happiness and security.”
This decision fell like a thunderbolt on the conspirators, who had hoped
the downfall of Maugis. The priest Gorieux paled and clinched his hands
until the nails penetrated the flesh. Why had he permitted Yolande to
witness the scene, he asked himself; but for that there might yet be hope. It
was a fatal error.
As for Maugis, the words of the king fairly stunned him. He had come
there solely to vindicate himself, and little thought the turn of events would
bring him his heart’s desire. At first his heart leaped for joy when he fairly
understood his happiness, but alas! only to be shadowed by sadness when
the aversion that Yolande had suddenly shown for him came to his mind.
“Sire!” said he sadly, when he had recovered his self-possession, “right
gladly will I fulfill the first condition and thy second one confers upon me
such honor, confidence and happiness that a lifetime of devotion from me
could not repay. But, your majesty, I cannot consent unless thy sister doth
approve of thy suggestion,” said he earnestly and proudly. “I never would
be willing to impose myself upon a woman in this fashion simply because
reasons of state forced her to accept me as her husband.”
At these words the king arose, terminating the audience, requesting
Maugis to come at the same time the next day.
Then the king hastened to the apartments of his sister, feeling some
uneasiness.
“Yolande,” said he, “thou knowest well thou hast been sought in marriage
by all the best men of my kingdom, and by many foreign princes. Thou hast
ever held thy heart free and have had thy will in refusing all who have
wooed thee, but the time has come for thee to choose thy mate in life, and

having thy welfare in our mind, we have picked for thee a right gallant and
comely man whose valor will do thee honor and protect thee.”
“How now, good brother!” exclaimed Yolande, alarmed at the solemnity
of the king. “To whom dost thou propose to sell me?”
“I desire thou shalt wed Maugis,” replied the king.
“And did Maugis send thee hither to plead his suit?” haughtily replied
Yolande, all her pride aroused.
“Nay, but—” replied the king.
“Then get thee hence, sire, with thy Maugis!” interrupted the princess,
flying into a passion. “Thinkest thou that I am merchandise to be bartered
for strength to thy kingdom, or a slave to be sold to pay thy obligations?
Not so, royal brother. I tell thee now, once for all, the air of a nunnery will
please my health far better than a husband who binds me to him as a
hostage. I would be alone, go!” she cried.
The perplexed monarch was leaving the apartments of his sister when he
encountered the Duchess de Bearne, a worldly-wise, shrewd, and good
woman, who had been as a mother to the orphaned princess.
He confided to her his perplexity between the pride of the two lovers.
“Sire!” laughed the duchess, “little doth thou understand a woman’s
heart. Why didst thou not suffer Maugis to plead his own cause? But rest
thee. Leave them to me, I will see they meet on the morrow.”
Accordingly, the next day Maugis was summoned to the palace and the
servitor who admitted him at the great gate pointed him to the private
garden of the royal household, indicating that he was to go in there. Maugis,
little suspecting what was in store for him, strolled down the shady
pathway, expecting every moment to meet the king.
Meanwhile, the envy, hatred and malice of the treacherous Abbé Gorieux
and some of the courtiers had only been intensified by the turn events had
taken in favor of Maugis. They all agreed that he had become so dangerous
that desperate measures must be taken to remove him, and they secretly
plotted to take his life.

The opportunity was soon to come. It happened that one of them heard
the Duchess de Bearne give orders to show Maugis into the royal garden
when he came the next day and, acting on this hint, the conspirators
resolved to execute their foul deed. Six of them would waylay Maugis, slay
him, and escape amid the shrubbery.
The unsuspecting Maugis penetrated deeper into the shady depths of the
garden, and as he passed a clump of bushes a strong arm holding aloft a
sword hung over his head and then descended with crushing force upon
him.
Luckily, the slight noise made by the action caught his quick ear and in
turning his head to one side he escaped the full force of the blow, which,
however, caused him to fall to the earth stunned and bleeding. In an instant
they were upon him, but as quickly recovering himself, he scrambled to his
feet and drawing his trusty blade soon laid two of his assailants low, but
half-fainting from the loss of blood he was being sore pressed and would
have succumbed to the odds against him, when the shouts of the
approaching royal guards, who had been aroused by the noise, caused the
assassins to become panic-stricken and fly, while Maugis sank fainting to
the earth.
When he next opened his eyes he was gazing into the blue depths of
Yolande’s and felt her hot tears on his face. His head was pillowed on her
breast.
“Oh, loved one,” he murmured as he drew her face down to his and a
long silent kiss sealed their reconciliation.
The good duchess discreetly withdrew and they were left alone in the
deep shadows of the foliage.
The next day the council was reconvened and the king announced the
coming marriage of his sister to Maugis and everybody felicitated the
fiancées; a few days after the wedding was celebrated with great splendor,
with fêtes and tournaments at which Maugis, who had quickly recovered
from his wounds, and his brothers D’Aymon, greatly distinguished
themselves by their feats at arms.
It was not long before Charlemagne was apprised of the exploits of
Maugis and his brothers, through the Abbé Gorieux and Ganelon, and the

emperor emphatically testified his displeasure to his courtiers at the way the
young men were braving him.
He had never, for one moment, abandoned his idea of vengeance, and
forthwith resolved to send Oger and Naimes, his two confidants, to the
King of Acquitaine to signify to him that he must deliver the sons D’Aymon
into his hands with their cousin Renaud, or suffer the effects of his anger.
Arriving at the court of Yon, Oger and Naimes, being duly presented,
spoke in these terms:
“Sire! Charlemagne knows well that you have given hospitality to the
four sons D’Aymon and their cousin, and more, you have permitted the
erection by them of a fortress in the middle of your kingdom, though by so
doing you have perhaps not intended a blow to the interests of your master.”
“That is true,” replied King Yon.
“Charlemagne will overlook it,” continued the Duke de Naimes, “but you
must not afford shelter and support against his anger to men of whose
crimes you probably are not familiar. Not only have they revolted against
their king, but Maugis is the nephew of the Duke d’Aigremont, who
murdered the son of Charlemagne, and is also the assassin of Berthelot, the
nephew of the emperor.”
“Noble knights!” replied King Yon, “I am exceedingly anxious to
maintain friendly relations with the emperor, but I cannot buy peace by an
act of perfidy. I would use all possible means to secure a sincere
reconciliation between the sons D’Aymon and the emperor. I would feel
satisfied could I arrive at that result.”
“This then is thy answer?” demanded Oger.
“It is,” responded King Yon.
“Then be warned,” thundered Naimes, “thy conditions are refused, and
unless thou wilt comply with the demands of thy emperor, bitter war will
cause thee to feel the wrath of Charlemagne.”
Oger and Naimes at once left the court, and returning to Charlemagne,
rendered him an account of their mission.

The emperor, as usual, flew into a violent rage and would have had his
army on the march within twenty-four hours, but his counsellors called his
attention to the fact that Maugis had now gained great prestige, which
would have a marked effect on the soldiers sent to fight him, and that to
attack Montaubon would be futile, when they had already been unable to
subdue Montfort. But Ganelon and his friends sided with the emperor and
encouraged his determination by all the means in their power.
Charlemagne was inflexible and insisted upon war with the King of
Acquitaine and his allies.
It was at this point the audience of the king was interrupted by a great
noise and commotion outside, caused by the arrival of a stranger and his
suite. He was a young man of great personal beauty, and the rich raiment he
wore could not conceal the manhood of a true knight. His suite were
numerous and were dressed with equal richness, all indicating that he was
of princely birth. Everybody made way for him when he appeared to
present himself before the emperor.
“Sire!” said he, “I am Roland, the son of Milon and of your sister. I have
come to place myself at your service. Therefore deign to accept me and
your majesty will ever find me a faithful and loyal servitor.”
Charlemagne could hardly conceal his joy, because he thought at last he
had secured a knight who could equal the prowess of Maugis.
Some days later Charlemagne armed his nephew and knighted him with
great pomp and ceremony, giving fêtes and tournaments more extraordinary
than usual in honor of the event. It was at tournaments in those days that the
knights exhibited their power and skill, and this occasion gave Roland the
opportunity to display a force and address that seemed irresistible, and gave
color to the hope of the emperor that he had finally discovered a knight who
could match Maugis, who now bore the reputation of being the foremost
warrior in France, a hope which subsequent events, as we shall see, fully
justified.
That tried, skilled and experienced knight, Oger, to satisfy himself of the
courage and endurance of the young knight, entered the tourney against
him, and for a time he was able to make a gallant fight; but he was finally

forced to declare himself conquered by his young adversary, and thereupon
Roland was, amid great acclaim, crowned the first knight of the court.⁠[2]
[2] History tells us that not only was Roland renowned for his prowess as a warrior, but
his beauty of person and grace of manner charmed the emperor and the entire court, and
further, not only was he a favorite with the ladies, but later became the idol of the people
as well.—G.

So the days devoted to pleasure succeeded each other without
interruption, when all at once the startling news came of an invasion of the
Saracens from the north. They were advancing along theRhine, killing,
burning and destroying all in their path. Charlemagne determined to send
Roland to meet the infidels, giving him twenty thousand men, ordering him
to go at once, and sternly adding not to return unless victorious.

MAUGIS.

By means of forced marches Roland came upon the Saracens so suddenly
as to take them completely by surprise. They, on seeing the royal troops,

flew to arms, but Roland, not giving them time to recover from the surprise,
threw his army upon them with great impetuosity and cut them to pieces.
Oger and Roland then followed the flying enemy in close pursuit, they
having divided, one part crossing the Rhine, was followed by Roland, who
caught up with them. Almonasar, king of the infidels, was made prisoner,
and begged Roland to spare him and those with him.
The nephew of Charlemagne, granting them quarter, they laid down their
arms and he marched them in return to the point where Roland had parted
from Oger, whom he met, followed by a large number of prisoners he had
also captured, all of whom were bound and placed in charge of the Duke de
Naimes. To save his life, Almonasar abjured the Mohammed faith.
Roland next proceeded to Cologne, where he reestablished order and
repaired the damage done by the Saracens, and later sojourned to the court
of Paris with his prisoner. There his glory and renown was much enhanced
by the mercy he showed Almonasar, for Roland, generous as the brave
always are, accorded him his liberty with the approval of the emperor and
sent him to his own country, he first having made oath of fidelity.

CHAPTER X.
When Charlemagne had a project in his mind, and particularly a project
of vengeance, he never abandoned it. And now being disembarrassed of the
Saracens, he lent a willing ear to the urgings of Ganelon and his friends, to
go to the punishment of the King of Acquitaine, for his refusal to yield up
the brave Maugis and the sons D’Aymon.
Ganelon, in his infatuation, still harbored the idea of destroying Maugis
and gaining possession of the lovely Yolande. In those old days might was
right and the perfidious courtier easily found those who, through envy,
malice or hatred, would aid him in his infamous schemes.
The emperor summoned his counsellors and laid his plans before them.
Roland, elated by his first victory, proposed to invest Montaubon and punish
the rebellious young knights. Therefore orders were issued for the
assemblage of all the soldiers the kingdom contained at Paris, the following
April.
At the designated time there duly arrived the principal lords of the realm,
followed by numerous troops. Solomon de Bretagne with all the nobility of
his domain, Dizier d’Espagne with six thousand soldiers, Bertrand
d’Allemagne with two thousand men, Richard de Normandie with a crowd
of knights assembled from all parts to take part in the war. And then, the
Archbishop Turpin arrived at the head of a choice troop. All these small
armies united gave a total of one hundred thousand men, who were placed
under the immediate command of Roland.
Charlemagne, to show the great confidence he felt in him, himself
contributed thirty thousand men, raised by an extraordinary levy, and on the
day of departure, at the very moment that Roland mounted his horse,
Charlemagne confided to his hands the keeping of his royal banner.
It truly seemed as if these formidable preparations insured the doom of
the gallant Maugis, who now was enjoying every moment of his blissful
honeymoon with his beautiful bride, all unconscious in his great happiness

of the awful cloud that hung so threateningly over his future; he little
dreaming of the dreadful tribulations cruel fate had yet in store for him.
It was not long before his dream of love had a rude awakening. The
approach of the great army was duly heralded, and a few days after had
arrived before the fortress of Montaubon. Roland would have made an
immediate assault, but Charlemagne in his wider experience deemed it
better to give the troops needed rest and at the same time employ the time in
an endeavor to effect some arrangement.

CHARLEMAGNE AT THE HEAD OF HIS ARMY.

He sent to Maugis a knight with a flag of truce indicating a desire for a
parley, who, shortly after he appeared before the gates of the castle, was
admitted to the presence of Maugis.
“Sir knight!” said the envoy, “I appear at the instance of the Emperor
Charlemagne to bid thee lay down thy arms and surrender at discretion. Thy
life shall be spared, but the condition is thou shalt deliver up thy brother
Richard to the anger of the king as an expiation of thy faults and those of
thy brothers. What sayest thou?”
The brow of Maugis darkened at these ominous words.
“If thou refusest,” continued the envoy of the emperor in a threatening
tone, “neither grace nor pity shall be accorded thee or thine. All, every one,

shall be given over to the most hideous punishments, and thy fortress shall
be razed to the ground.”
Maugis laughed scornfully and replied with great indignation:
“Charlemagne, thy master, should know me well enough not to make a
proposition to me which is little better than an insult. As to delivering to
him my brother Richard, I would not commit such an act of cowardice even
to a stranger who had put himself under my protection.”
A low murmur of applause sounded throughout the audience-chamber at
these brave words.
“Thou canst, however, tell the emperor,” continued Maugis sorrowfully,
“that if instead of pursuing and fighting us he will grant us all his pardon
and take us into his service once more, as we are perfectly disposed to do,
we will surrender to him and will deliver up our castle.”
“And this is all thy answer?” demanded the envoy.
“It is all,” replied Maugis.
The proposition of Maugis was so fair that most of the counsellors of
Charlemagne were of the opinion that he should accept it, but Ganelon and
his allies worked so successfully upon the self-pride of Charlemagne as to
lead him to refuse to consider these wise counsels and to declare that he
should not stop until he had completely vanquished the five young men who
had so persistently balked and humiliated him.
He forthwith ordered the camp pitched around Montaubon, so as to
completely invest it, placing his own tent before the oriental gate, while
Roland placed his tent at the side opposite. Besides all these preparations
Roland studied the fortress with the closest attention, replying to all
observations that it seemed truly impregnable.
Thus a regular siege was commenced, it being the intention to reduce the
place by famine; so, as the days passed, the life of the soldiers became very
tranquil, some trifling skirmishes and keeping a close watch being about all
that occupied them.
This state of quiet gave their chiefs an abundant opportunity to make
excursions into the surrounding country, and it chanced one day, when
Roland and Olivier and his suite made such an expedition, that Maugis, who

kept well posted as to the movements of the enemy, resolved to humiliate
him.
He commanded his brothers to take a thousand men each, and sortie
quietly into the forest. He then, himself alone, secretly penetrated into the
camp of the allies, and stealing to the tent of Roland, succeeded in reversing
the royal dragon flag that waved over it.
A short time afterward the wary Archbishop Turpin, seeing a number of
birds fly out of the forest over his camp, shrewdly divined that troops were
ambuscaded there, and he soon ascertained that his suspicions were correct.
To summon Oger and tell him to put his soldiers under arms was but the
work of an instant. Meanwhile, Maugis, seeing they were discovered,
ordered his cousin Renaud with his one thousand men to continue in the
woods concealed, while he, with his three brothers with their troops, boldly
attacked the camp. They overturned and destroyed the tents, and slew all
whom they encountered, throwing them into the utmost confusion, while
cries arose on every hand for Roland and Olivier, who of course did not
respond, being absent.
The warlike Archbishop Turpin, furious to see everything upset in that
manner, threw himself upon Maugis, and so fierce was the combat that
ensued between them that their swords were broken in their hands, but each
still stood firm. Finally, Maugis gave a terrible stroke on the fragment of the
sword which the archbishop still fought with, which caused the warrior
priest to stagger.
“Good father!” exclaimed Maugis mockingly, “thou art greater in the
church than in the field.”
“S’death!” shouted the infuriated archbishop in reply, attacking Maugis
yet more furiously.
All the forces were now engaged, but they could not resist the impetuous
onslaught of the soldiers of the sons of Aymon, and to add to their
discomfiture Renaud came out of the forest with his detachment, surprising
the enemy in the rear, who, already nearly defeated, were by this movement
entirely put to rout. Conquered and exhausted, they flew in all directions to
gain the main body of the royal troops on the other side of the castle.

The spoils gained by the victors were considerable, and were all safely
carried into Montaubon. Maugis, who had captured the dragon flag from the
tent of Roland, caused it to be placed on the highest tower in defiance of his
enemies.
The emperor, on the other side of the mountain on which the castle was
perched, knowing nothing of what was occurring, chanced to see the dragon
flying from the battlements of Montaubon, and thought that Roland had
become master of the fortress, and he gave way for a moment to
immoderate joy.
“I have lost many men,” cried he, “but the Aymons are now in my
power.”
His illusion, however, was short lived.
It was nightfall when Roland and Olivier returned from their excursion,
not knowing anything had happened, and, when near the camp, they were
met by an officer, who quickly apprised them of what had occurred.
Roland thereupon hurried to the archbishop to learn full particulars of the
disaster, and together they sought the emperor, who was prepared to give
them a stern reprimand, but who was seized with such consternation on
hearing their story that he contented himself with giving them instructions
to be more vigilant in future while they were before an enemy so active as
Maugis.
This exciting episode, as well as the fact that he had not been able to
defeat his enemies, caused the emperor to become so exasperated that he
resolved he never would quit his camp until the château fortress was taken.
Ganelon advised him to attack Maugis by securing the perfidy and
abandonment of his allies, which counsel Charlemagne finally reluctantly
followed.
An envoy was sent to the King of Acquitaine, that he had entered the
kingdom with one hundred thousand men, and that it was his intention to
put everything to fire and the sword.
King Yon was very much disturbed by these menaces, and his courtiers
were at once divided into two parties. The one headed by the treacherous
abbé, who pointed out to the worried monarch that what was occurring was
what was predicted to him as the result of harboring Maugis and his

brothers, and that now was the time to yield them up and save the kingdom
and its people from certain destruction.
The other side, however, the true soldiers and brave men, urged upon the
king that they respect their word once given.
“Sire!” exclaimed a brave old knight, “these five intrepid knights, when
they found you in distress and your kingdom all but destroyed, spared
neither themselves nor their soldiers in thy succor. It would surely be an
offense to heaven to now retract all thy pledges to them and to desert them
in their necessity. It would be the basest ingratitude.”
These brave words met with a murmur of approval from the assembled
courtiers, and emboldened several other knights to speak out in support of
the fair treatment of the brave brothers.
The king was sore perplexed, beset on one side by the influence of the
foul conspirators who had gained his confidence, and more than all by a
desire to save his kingdom from devastation and the possible overthrow of
his dynasty.
His countenance plainly evidenced the confusion which these varying
demands had brought upon him.
It is an old proverb that “He who hesitates is lost.” And the active and
ever ready abbé, seizing this moment as a favorable opportunity, leaned
forward and whispered in the ear of the hesitating king: “Sire, this is truly a
matter too important to decide with undue haste. Sleep upon its
consideration until the morrow, that a proper issue of this most unhappy
matter may be conceived.” This suggestion for delay did not meet with the
approval of many of the knights present, who, admiring the bravery of the
sons of Aymon, were unfavorable to any hesitancy in according them just
treatment.
They signalized their disfavor by loud murmurs, but King Yon weakly
gave way to the perfidious counsel for delay. Saying with a show of
decision: “We will allow the subject to rest until the morrow,” and
thereupon arose from his throne terminating the sitting.
The old knight, who had been so outspoken in favor of the brothers,
smote the hilt of his sword with anger until it rang. This was the signal for a
chorus of dissent from the assembled soldiers, which ominous sound

greeted the ears of the departing monarch without avail though the test of
his will was to be strained to very near to the breaking; he was about to
commit an act utterly at variance with the nobility of character he had
heretofore shown; and in the moral ruin not only were those whom he loved
about to be involved, but he himself was to perish in the disaster.
The delay the perplexed monarch granted gave the Abbé Gorieux,
Godefroy and other malcontents of the court an opportunity they were not
slow to avail themselves of. That night a secret conference was held in the
private library of the king, at which the abbé was the spokesman. Said he:
“Your majesty, the hesitancy you show in deciding this matter does credit
to your noble impulses; it is without doubt true that these young men have
rendered you great service, they came boldly and skillfully to your rescue,
when you were in need of succor, and you have the right to be grateful to
them; but, sire, you owe a duty to your people and to your country far
paramount to all personal considerations. In your gratitude you have
rewarded these knights in a princely manner, you have generously fulfilled
your obligations to them, but in so doing you have caused a danger to
threaten your kingdom, your people, and your royal person, which there is
but one way to avert. Where now lies your duty? Is it in the suicidal policy
of resistance against the overmastering strength of Charlemagne? in which
there is nothing but certain ruin to all concerned; the overthrow of your
kingdom, pillage, flames and death for your unfortunate subjects. Then, sire,
how can you hesitate? Resist, and all these misfortunes come upon you and
your people; accede to Charlemagne’s demand and you sacrifice the few to
save the many.”
“How can I do this?” questioned the hesitating monarch; “you forget my
oath.”
“I do not forget thine oath, sire,” sternly continued the abbé; “I can assure
thee, in virtue of my holy office, that God will hold thee absolved from an
oath that will cost such dire misfortune to thy country. Thy oath to thy
people and thy kingly duty hath by far the greater demand upon thee.”
The poor king bowed his head in the deepest dejection, the act he was
asked to commit revolted him, and there was going on within him a bitter
struggle between his self-interest and his duty to the sons D’Aymon; then,
too, he thought of the suffering of his sister. For a moment the better nature

was in the ascendancy. The wily abbé studied his face and read there the
struggle going on within; too crafty to descend to lying, it only remained for
the base Godefroy to complete the work. Said he:
“In good sooth, sire; thou wouldst not hold thy oath to this sorcerer and
his brothers so heavy a burden on thy conscience didst thou but know that
they now conspire to rob thee of thy throne. This, I can assure thee, I have
from one who is in their counsel.”
“Art sure?” queried the king, arousing.
“I can prove this beyond a doubt,” replied the lying Godefroy.
“Enough!” cried King Yon, “let it be so, I will contend against thee no
longer.”
Then it was, the dishonored king, at the dead of night, conspired with the
enemies of Maugis to deliver him into the hands of Charlemagne, which
being complete, the king retired, at last easy in mind over the prospect that
he would be allowed undisturbed possession of his kingdom.

CHAPTER XI.
On the next day King Yon went to Montaubon, and said to Maugis:
“At last, dear brother, am I able to apprise thee that it will be possible for
thee and thy brothers to conclude peace with Charlemagne. This has come
about through my good offices, and I have come to felicitate thee that thy
struggles are over.”
Yon then made up a tissue of lies, cunningly devised for him by the abbé,
giving color to the statement that he came to Maugis in behalf of the
emperor to offer to the brothers D’Aymon terms of peace. He stipulated
they should go the next day, all four, armed only with their swords, to meet
Charlemagne on the plain of Vancoleurs.
“I will give you,” said the hypocritical king, “a few knights of my court
to accompany you. To show your humility you will go mounted upon
mules, and you will carry in your hands branches of roses and olives as a
sign of reconciliation. The emperor will await you there with the Duke de
Naimes, Oger, and twelve peers. You will throw yourselves on your knees
at his feet and he will then pardon you and allow you to retain full
possession of all your rights.”
At this happy news the face of Maugis lighted with joy, but it was soon
clouded with doubt; although he feared no treachery from his brother-in-
law, he had no confidence in Charlemagne.
“’Tis indeed good news,” said he, “that thou dost bring me, good brother,
but canst thou assure me there is no treachery behind all these fair
promises?”
“Do not fail to heed me, but go,” replied the base king. “Thou knowest
well, brother, that I have thy interests truly at heart, and would not advise
thee did I not know that it will be absolutely safe for thee to go. It were
madness for thee now to scorn this chance to make thy peace with the
emperor; it is thy last chance, avail thyself of it without fail.”

A little later, after the departure of King Yon, Maugis summoned his
brothers in council, and acquainted them with the offers of the emperor.
They were each and all seized with the same dire presentiments.
“If the King Yon tells the truth,” cried Alard, “that Charlemagne will
really accord us his friendship, why does he exact we shall appear as if
dishonored, why are we to go without arms to the middle of a plain, where
if attacked we could all be easily killed without being able to resist. I
distrust, brother, I distrust much that we are to be betrayed.”
“It is impossible!” declared Maugis, “that there can be any treason in an
affair in which my brother-in-law, King Yon, is acting as a negotiator. He is
above all baseness, and besides, you all know he made oath to us that we
could count upon his loyalty.”
The council then broke up, the brothers by no means sharing the
confidence of Maugis in the outcome, yet, deferring to his opinion, they
hurried away to make preparations for the next day.
Maugis hastened to his own apartments, where he informed Yolande of
his contemplated expedition the following day. She paled upon hearing of
it, not being able to resist a feeling of fear that was insurmountable.
“Go not, my husband, I beseech thee,” she cried.
“There can be no danger,” explained Maugis; “thy brother Yon, he is
incapable of deception, and it is he who is acting as intermediary between
the emperor and us; surely I can rely upon his advice and assurances.”
“I care not, I care not,” responded Yolande. “Yon would not deceive you,
perhaps, more quickly than another; but you must remember he is only
human, and, like the rest of the world, would sacrifice any one else for his
own interest. Mistrust then, Maugis, as I mistrust; if you go to the meeting,
I feel you are all lost.”
“Dear one, thy fears are but phantoms,” tenderly replied Maugis,
unconvinced and trying to reassure her.
“No! no!” responded Yolande; “my fears are real, why should you go like
the vanquished without arms? Is that your place? no! go with arms in hand,
if you must go, followed by your faithful knights, and meet them as equals,
then I shall fear nothing.”

Against all this advice, the next day Maugis set out with his four
brothers, followed by the ten lords of King Yon, to meet the Emperor
Charlemagne. By this time King Yon, who had never before lost his honor,
was half-tempted to regret the villainous action he was about to commit, but
the abbé and Godefroy, ever at his side, confirmed his purpose by
representing to him the enormous benefits to him of the action, and his
heart was hardened and he remained silent.
At the head of the little troop, marching slowly onward, Maugis was
confronted by a presentiment which caused him to fear there might be
reason in the doubts expressed by his brothers and his wife. He, however,
by an effort of will cast it aside, they, meanwhile, having arrived at the plain
of Vancouleurs. It was a forbidding spot, being surrounded by dense forests,
and had no possible issue for them in case of flight; besides, the river
Gironde, which traversed it, four roads led from it; the road to France, the
road to Portugal, the road to Spain, and road to the kingdom of Acquitaine;
but these roads were now all guarded by ambuscades of five hundred men
belonging to Charlemagne.
Surprised at not finding any one on the plain, Maugis and his little
company proceeded across it and placed themselves at the foot of a steep
rock, which was pierced by a narrow opening. Alard had by this time
persuaded Maugis that they were betrayed, and that they were wise if they
immediately retraced their steps; when, however, they attempted to do this,
they suddenly encountered Foulques de Morillon at the head of three
hundred men.
“We are betrayed!” shouted Maugis, then turning quickly to the knights
of his escort, he cried: “Ah, gentlemen, you whom King Yon has sent to
accompany us, you will give us your aid now?”
Then Godefroy, who was of the escort and who had hated Maugis from
the time of his arrival at the court of Yon, responded, saying:
“Not we, we have been forced to accompany you against our will and
neither myself nor any of these other lords are willing to give thee any
assistance.” These half-defiant and half-sneering words had hardly died
upon his lips when Maugis, seeing at last the trap into which they had been
lured, turned upon him and with incredible quickness, with one stroke of his

sword, cleft his head to the chin. The other knights then fled for safety and
joined the side of the enemy.
“Come on, dear friends!” cried Maugis, “until we are taken we will
defend ourselves like men of heart; we will fight here back to back, and will
never submit to be taken alive.”
All four brothers embraced as if for a final adieu, and rolling their cloaks
around their left arms to parry the blows, they grimly awaited the enemy,
firm of foot and sword in hand.
Struck by their courage and coolness, Foulques de Morillon cried out to
them:
“Yield thee; resistance is useless, King Yon hath given thee up, thou art
surrounded on every hand, therefore surrender, for assistance is
impossible.”
“Sayest thou so,” said Maugis defiantly in reply; “thy further lies are
useless, except to insult brave knights after having betrayed them; liar and
coward, defend thyself; I challenge thee to single combat.”
Foulques made no reply to this, but charged upon Maugis, lance at rest,
and wounded him in the thigh. At this unexpected charge Maugis and his
mule rolled together in the dust. Alard, seeing Maugis down, and fearing he
had been killed, cried to his brothers:
“Let us yield, further struggle is useless.”
To their great surprise, however, Maugis arose, quickly disengaging
himself from his mount, and threw himself in front of Foulques, who
charged upon him again, endeavoring to run him down; quick as lightning
Maugis evaded the charge by springing to one side, and then coming up
behind the horse of his enemy he leaped upon the crupper in his rear, at the
same time running him through with his sword, and throwing him to the
earth. Maugis possessed now a horse and had also secured the lance and
shield of De Morillon.
“Do not separate!” he shouted to his brothers, as he charged head down
into the midst of the French forces. The first to meet his infuriated sword
was the Duke of Cory, who fell lifeless. He then with one blow of his
gigantic arm cleft Engenrrand to the saddle, and like a flash, without

seeming to take breath, he fought fast and furious, until he had in all, one
after the other, made eleven knights bite the dust.
His indomitable courage and spirit would have carried him further
onward, but glancing behind, he saw Alard who, though wounded, was
hastening to join him. Alard bestrode the horse and had taken the arms of
one of the knights killed by his brother. Together the two now continued
what was no less than a butchery; their enemies seemed stunned, they slew
them one after another until in a few moments they were surrounded with a
small mountain of the dead.
Not far behind were Richard and Guichard, dismounted, fighting step by
step to join them.
The French, confident in their superior numbers, instead of seeking to kill
the four brothers, endeavored to surround them and take them alive. They
did succeed in separating them from Maugis, and were making a desperate
attempt to capture Guichard, who, however, made such a vigorous
resistance that he laid low in succession the first four who approached him.
Richard had regained the rock, resolved to die rather than submit to capture.
Maugis, completely carried away by the excitement of battle, followed by
Alard, resolved to die rather than any of them be delivered into the hands of
Charlemagne. With incredible fury they fought, cut, hacked, beat down and
killed all before them, until they reached Guichard, who had been
meanwhile overcome. Alard quickly cut the cords that bound him, put him
on the horse of a dead enemy, giving him his arms. Guichard then paid back
with interest his few moments of captivity.
During this time, Richard, who, next to Maugis, was the strongest of the
brothers, had become separated from the rest. He tried at any sacrifice to
rejoin them and they on their side sought for him. Richard, covered with
wounds and spent with fatigue, was fast sinking down by the rock, without
sufficient force to climb upon it. He was surrounded by a circle of knights
whom he had killed. At this supreme moment, Gerard de Vanvier, cousin of
Foulques de Morillon, seeing that he was nearly dead, charged upon him
with his horse, lance abreast, and wounded him in the shoulder, but
Richard, who had become somewhat rested, summoned all his strength and
stopped his assassin with a terrible stroke of the sword, hurling him from

his horse, then the conqueror and the conquered fell down together, the one
nearly dead, and the other beyond recall.
The three brothers, who had been all this time fighting, were searching
for Richard, without perceiving him, now gained the rock, and only then
saw his figure lying in the midst of the bodies of his enemies. Maugis
quickly ordered his two brothers to dismount and carry their wounded
brother within the opening of the rock for shelter, he meanwhile would fight
the enemy off.
“My poor brother!” cried Maugis, “you are the victim of the treachery of
King Yon. May God preserve me until I have taken vengeance, for it shall
be terrible.”
Alard and Guichard had tenderly raised the body of Richard and in the
midst of a storm of projectiles of all sorts had borne him within the rock.
During the journey he made a slight movement, opened his eyes and said to
them:
“My dear brothers, go to the assistance of Maugis. I am yet strong
enough to defend myself. I shall see you all again, for I am sure we will be
able to extricate ourselves.”
Taking his advice, Alard and Guichard hastened to rejoin Maugis, whom
they found surrounded by the bodies of dead enemies. Their own horses had
disappeared, and making a sortie they easily captured more, and then
continued the furious combat, being enabled finally to regain the opening of
the rock, which they contented themselves in defending.
The four intrepid brothers, reunited, and for a time safe, were hoping that
their enemy would withdraw, which was suddenly dashed to the earth, when
Oger, at the head of three thousand men, appeared and completely
surrounded them.
The situation now seemed indeed hopeless. Amid an impressive silence
the grizzled old soldier, Oger, rode forward from the serried ranks and cried
out in a stern tone:
“Wretched men, give thyselves up, resistance is useless; or,” he added
menacingly, “take care of yourselves, for I shall not regard the family ties
that exist between us, and I shall use every means to force you to obey me.
The only thing for you to do is to cease your resistance.”

“You give yourself useless trouble,” replied Maugis defiantly, “we fear
you not.”
During the time occupied by this parley, Richard had recovered himself,
and had bound up his wounds from strips from his cloak. Alard likewise
had bound up the wound in his thigh, stopping the flow of blood, and to the
astonishment of the assembled host they all grimly ranged themselves side
by side and awaited the onslaught of their astonished enemies, who
marvelled at their courage; then, touched by compassion, Oger halted his
soldiers, saying to them he would endeavor to persuade them to surrender.
He then approached near to the rock, and thus addressed them in kindly
tones:
“My dear cousin, I pray you to surrender; it will be impossible for you to
resist long; you will surely be slain, because nothing can prevent my
soldiers from successfully assaulting the rock that shelters you. You have
not sufficient means of defense in your swords and your lances. You have
not even the resource of a pile of heavy stones with which to beat down
your assailants when they seek to climb up the rock, and though you may
see how much I admire your bravery, I shall stay here until you are
completely subdued for want of food.”
“I thank you, my cousin,” replied Maugis in the same spirit, “and I
should profit by thy advice, but that we never can forget the baseness of the
plot which brought us to this dire extremity.”
At these words Oger shook his head sadly, and returned to his command,
and Maugis climbed to the top of the rock to see in what way he could
provide some means of defense. From the height thus gained he
contemplated with pride the number of enemies they had slain, and then
chancing to raise his eyes to the horizon he beheld a sight which caused the
blood to leap quickening to his heart; a body of troops were advancing in all
haste. He could hardly conceal his joy when he recognized at their head his
cousin Renaud, mounted on Bayard, his own famous horse. He whispered
joyfully in the ear of Guichard the welcome news, warning him to quietly
acquaint the other brothers, in a manner that would not arouse the suspicion
of their waiting and watching enemy.

Maugis now descended from the rock and sought to occupy in some
manner the attention of Oger, in order to gain delay.
Though entirely deceived by Maugis, Oger could hear the murmurings of
his soldiers, who demanded an assault on the rock should be made. He was
about to return to them, when he was arrested by the voice of Maugis,
saying:
“My good cousin, if thou hast kindly feeling to us, grant us an hour’s
truce; you cannot refuse this request with a good conscience; you have three
thousand men against four miserable knights; thou art assured of victory;
never fear that Charlemagne will address you one reproach in that regard.”
“I will grant it thee willingly,” replied Oger, so he withdrew to his troops,
and gave them the order to wait. At this their murmurings were loud and
deep.
“Silence!” roared Oger, “the first man who stirs one step I will strike
down with my sword.” This stern threat had the effect to keep them quiet.
A little more than half an hour had passed when Alard and Richard
wished to recommence the battle.
“My good brother,” said Richard, “the troop of Renaud, now coming, is
superior to that of Oger by over one thousand men; it is in our power to take
a terrible vengeance, and this is how we can do it: let us advance upon them
now, and get them so busily occupied that they will not perceive what is
passing behind them; in this way we will enable Renaud to approach them
in the rear and cut them to pieces; if, on the contrary, we let them become
aware of the approach of our friends, the enemy may escape combat by
flight and we will miss our revenge.”
This plan received the approval of the three brothers, and they
accordingly descended from the rock, Maugis and Guichard leading the
way, followed by Alard and Richard. The enemy upon witnessing this
movement thought at once that the sons of Aymon, appalled by their
numbers, and discouraged by their wounds, had decided to give up the
contest, and were about to surrender. The veteran, Oger, could not bear the
idea of their thus tamely giving themselves up. It was against that old
fighter’s nature; accordingly he rode out toward the rock, and shouted to
them:

“Be warned, young men, thou hast thy right to leave thy refuge, but know
thou, I am ordered to take thee alive, conduct thee to Charlemagne, when he
will put thee to an ignominious death. I would prefer much that as brave
men thou shouldst die in battle rather than surrender thus tamely like men
of no courage.”
This kindly advice caused a hot flush to suffuse the face of Maugis, and
drawing up his tall form he fiercely replied:
“We will never surrender, we will die with our arms in our hands rather
than that. Our cause is just, and we only hope you will not escape our
vengeance, because you have basely betrayed us.”
Oger withdrew sadly upon this, his eyes filled with tears of pity, and
rejoining his troops he ordered them to attack the four brothers; but his
punishment was near at hand, for at that moment Renaud, who had
successfully traversed the forest in their rear, came upon them, and before
they could recover from their surprise, had completely surrounded them.
Renaud rode ferociously at Oger, and aimed at him a terrible stroke of his
sword, but he was carried away from the object of his attack by Bayard,
who recognized his master.
Without delay the soldiers of Renaud, taking advantage of their surprise
and stupor, fell upon the enemy and slew them with a most terrible carnage.
Fighting with the greatest ardor, the soldiers of Renaud had completely
routed the command of Oger, but were temporarily arrested by the royal
ambuscaders, who though in full retreat, stopped them so suddenly that the
pursuers fell over each other. During the fight, Maugis, who had mounted
his horse Bayard, had charged upon Oger and dismounted him; he then
descended, and courteously assisting the veteran to remount, said to him:
“Thou hast not succeeded in bathing your hands in our blood, but you
have participated in a treachery; you have acted the part of a coward. Go!
you are despicable. Never come before me again or I will not be so
forgiving.”
This taunt made Oger furious, and he charged upon Maugis, giving him a
terrible stroke upon the head, which for an instant caused him to totter on
his horse. Oger was about to renew the attack, when Alard and Guichard
came up with some soldiers, and attacked the escort of Oger with great fury,

putting them to flight, and massacring all who resisted; afterward they
sought the wounded Richard and bore him to a place of safety.

CHAPTER XII.
For a time Richard was thought to be dying; they tenderly put him upon a
hastily constructed litter, enveloped in the remains of their cloaks, and then
returned to Montaubon, where they were received with the rejoicings of the
people. The meeting between Maugis and Yolande was most affecting; she
shed tears of happiness upon his breast, overjoyed to see again him whom
she thought was lost forever.
After a few days of rest, Maugis resolved to punish King Yon, and was
actively making his preparations to do so when a messenger arrived at the
court from his brother-in-law. He was immediately shown into the presence
of Maugis.
“How now!” sternly demanded Maugis of the envoy; “what wouldst
thou?”
“My lord,” replied the messenger, “I come to thee from thy sorrowing
and repentant brother-in-law, King Yon. He doth most humbly crave thy
forgiveness and pardon and doth relate to thee his most sorrowful and
unhappy condition. Roland doth hold him captive, and he craves thee to lay
aside thy just resentment and to deliver him from his hands.”
Maugis was silent for a moment and could not resist a sigh at thus
perceiving how the treachery of the King of Acquitaine had served to punish
and degrade him.
“’Tis well,” said Maugis, “the baseness of thy master hath brought to him
its own reward, yet great as my resentment is, I do not recognize the right of
Roland to hold King Yon his prisoner, even though he be my worthless
relative, I shall wrest him from his bonds. Get thee gone!”
Maugis then called a council of his brothers and acquainted them with his
plans. The troops were ordered under arms, and all preparations were made
to go out and attack the enemy at once.

The expedition, headed by Maugis, had proceeded but a short distance
when they came upon Roland, face to face, at the head of a considerable
number of troops. A halt was ordered and Maugis rode forward, lowered his
lance, and said to Roland:
“Brave knight, we have been shedding each other’s blood in a bitter
quarrel, which it is now time to terminate, once for all. Thou art a relative of
Charlemagne, and of mine; I pray thee use thy influence to pacify the
emperor, and on my part I will do all in my power to second your efforts.
We are willing to undertake, as a penance, war against the infidels, in the
name of the Emperor of France, my brothers and I; I pray thee, then, in
behalf of all, to accept my offer.”
Roland, much affected by the frank and manly words of Maugis, replied:
“Brave knight, for myself, I gladly tell thee I would only be too willing to
accede to these requests, but alas! Charlemagne refuses to hear of peace
under any conditions, except that thee and thy brothers are delivered into his
hands.”
“Then it is useless,” responded Maugis; “we will fight until death before
we will ever lower ourselves to commit such a great act of cowardice.”
Saying this, Maugis lowered his visor, set his lance at rest, and spurring
his horse quickly forward, charged upon Roland. Roland in turn drew his
famous sword and aimed a terrible blow at Maugis, which the latter
received upon his shield, but such was its force the shield flew to pieces,
and Roland stopping, said, smiling at his adversary:
“Good, my cousin, I have taken my revenge on thee for thy rashness; thy
shield is gone, we will now quit.”
“No,” replied Maugis, “if thou hast destroyed my shield for vengeance, I
will punish thee for thy pride.”
This singular combat would have been continued, and with their
followers included, all would have become engaged in a duel to
extermination, if Renaud had not restrained his cousin. On his side Olivier,
the friend of Roland, likewise detained the nephew of Charlemagne, who,
however, had become enraged at the taunt of Maugis and would listen to
nothing, but would throw himself with all his force upon him.

Things were at this delicate point when in the distance a body of troops
were seen approaching with a slow and measured tread. They surrounded a
man habited in the garb of a monk; the doleful strains of the Miserere came
floating to them borne on the breeze. The nearer approach of this
melancholy procession revealed the fact that the man in the garb of a monk
was no other than King Yon; they were conducting him to execution. This
sight caused Maugis to forget all his resentment against his brother-in-law.
He drew his troops across the road, barring the progress of the guard, and
thundered out the order to them:
“Halt!”
“Stand aside!” responded the commandant of the guard.
“Again I command thee to halt,” cried Maugis; “yield thy prisoner!”
At these words Maugis commanded his troops to charge, and they threw
themselves upon the guard with such fury that they were all either killed or
dispersed, and finally the unfortunate King Yon was delivered from their
hands. He then threw himself at the feet of his brother-in-law, saying:
“I am not worthy to live in thy presence; the sole grace I can implore of
thee is that I may meet death at thy hands.”
At the sight of Maugis fighting the guardians of King Yon, the troops on
each side all along the line became engaged in a murderous conflict, and
intermingling formed a vast struggling mass, in the midst of which could be
seen the swords rising and falling, at each stroke meeting a victim. Roland,
in the meantime, was not inactive; he wrought upon his enemy injury equal
to that of Maugis.
Richard, who was still weak from his wounds, and fought but little,
became surrounded, and Roland perceiving it, rode toward him, and not
deeming it chivalrous to accept his defiance, ordered him to be taken alive.
Richard defended himself like a lion at bay, but was very soon buried under
a mass of the enemy, hurled from his horse and compelled to yield. He
refused to give his sword to any one but Roland, whom he considered only
worthy to receive it.
It was in the midst of the fight that the sorrowful news of the capture of
Richard was borne to Maugis; it made him furious; he declared he would at
any price secure the liberty of Richard, and he was about to appoint Alard

and Guichard to act in his place, while he proceeded against the camp of
Charlemagne to deliver his brother, but his cousin Renaud arrested him.
“Thy project is foolish,” said he; “if you take such a step you will
certainly be yourself captured, then what can you do? Listen, I have myself
an account to settle with the emperor, and if Richard has not already been
executed, I will enter the camp of Charlemagne in disguise, will learn what
they intend doing with him, and we can then know better what steps to take
for his rescue.”
“Thy plan is wise,” said Maugis, “and knowing thy discretion, am
assured thou wilt return from thy perilous mission in safety.”
Accordingly, Renaud at once retired, and hastily disguising himself as a
pilgrim, leaning wearily upon a stick, proceeded to the camp of
Charlemagne, whither Richard had been borne. On nearing the camp he
walked very feebly, and assumed such a miserable aspect that all gates were
opened before him; such was the reverence for holiness and sanctity, that
pilgrims from the holy land were held in those days, and when, at last, he
had arrived before the tent of the emperor, and was ushered into his
presence, he said to Charlemagne:
“Pax Vobiscum, great ruler, I have just returned from Jerusalem, where I
prostrated myself before the tomb of our Divine Master,” and reverently
crossing himself he bowed his hooded head upon his breast and stood silent.
“Most holy man, I give thee greeting,” replied the emperor; “what
commands hast thou for me? Speak, and they are granted thee.”
“Sire,” continued the false monk, “while on my way yesterday by
Balancon, with other pilgrims, traveling the same road, we were set upon by
brigands; all my companions were slain, and I alone, by the mercy of God,
escaped death, and that only because they thought I was so near death
already. At the nearest village I could gain I learned that the country was
being ravaged by the four sons of Aymon, aided by a certain Renaud, and,
from a picture, I am sure it was the latter who was our assailant, and it was
he who brought me to this miserable state.” Here the pilgrim made another
sign of the cross, saluted the emperor with humility, and begged him for
food, as it had been a long time since he had had what he required.

Renaud acted his part so well that Charlemagne was taken completely off
his guard, and suspicious of nothing, gave orders that the holy father be well
treated as one deserved who possessed such precious information.
Renaud added to the good impression he had produced by a liberal
quantity of prayers and blessings. At this point the camp was aroused by a
blare of trumpets from without; it was Roland who had arrived with Richard
surrounded by a strong guard.
Charlemagne, who had already been warned by Ganelon of the result of
his nephew’s expedition, received him joyfully, and, upon hearing his story,
embraced him. Said he:
“Thou hast done well; let the rebel be delivered to punishment at once.”
At the first sight of the pilgrim, Richard recognized his cousin Renaud,
which had the effect of reassuring him as to his safety. Renaud, on his part,
succeeded in learning the plans of the execution, and where it was to take
place, then he quietly withdrew, hastened to Montaubon and gave the order
summoning all to arms as quickly as possible. This being accomplished, he
prepared to lead them to the place of execution, and took the troops around
by a circuitous route to the appointed place, hiding them in the woods
nearby, and enjoining every one to preserve the utmost silence.
On the arrival of Richard at the camp, Charlemagne immediately
assembled his council. Said he:
“At last one of the rebellious sons of Aymon has been delivered into my
hands; it has been at a fearful cost of blood and treasure. They have defied
and insulted me. I should be illy fitted to be a ruler did I not make a most
forcible example of this rebellious subject, therefore do I decide to hang him
as near the château on the mountain as possible, that it may give the
execution an imposing effect. Let the affair proceed at once.”
Now arose a difficulty to find an executioner. There was a secret
admiration for the brave sons of Aymon throughout the camp. This was
revealed when no one would volunteer to fill the office. At last a person of
the court of bad reputation, one Des Rives by name, who had already made
himself conspicuous by his questionable exploits, presented himself for the
task, hoping by means of this low action to gain favor in the eyes of the
emperor, and Charlemagne at once accepted him.

Faithful to his past, and at the cost of his honor, Des Rives then
approached Richard and read him the sentence of death. Then he mounted
Richard upon a mule, and brought him before the tent of Charlemagne,
further humiliating him by taunts and jeers.
At all times in France men have fought solely for the desire to conquer,
and rarely for the hate of their enemies, therefore the conduct of the
cowardly and villainous Des Rives so much affected the assembled knights
and soldiers that many a stern eye shed tears to see the treatment suffered by
a man so renowned for his bravery and nobility of character.
The troops of the escort now surrounded him and conducted him away to
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.”

YE OLDE CITIE OF MOUZON.

“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 forward
under the walls of Montaubon and announce to Maugis the punishment of
his cousin.

CHAPTER XIII.
Charlemagne sought to establish his right for having taken Renaud in his
power. The emperor called an assemblage of the highest peers of his court.
Said he to them:
“My lords, you are well aware of the causes of the hatred I bear toward
Renaud; you know the last outrage he has committed was to tear the golden
eagle from the top of my tent; he hath even attacked our royal person, and
had it not been for the aid of Olivier and divine Providence, which always
protects the cause of the just, I should at least have been wounded. It was
his intention to kill me none the less. He is therefore culpable. Even if I did
not occupy the elevated rank which places me at your head, I would not
pardon him. Settling the matter between us by personal combat is out of the
question. I am an emperor, and I must see that justice is rendered, and I
must set the example. I will not accuse him of having attempted my life. I
will not seek to punish him for his crime of lese-majesty, but he shall suffer
the direst punishment like a traitor to his oath for having supported the four
sons of Aymon, and above all, for having taken up arms against me.”
“I now order that he be immediately given to the flames.”
Then arose Leon de Hautfeuille, a wise courtier.
“Sire,” said he, “there can be no exception taken to thy just resentment,
but if thou dost carry thy sentence out immediately, will it not encourage
Maugis and his brothers in the belief that thou fearest a rescue from them so
much thou decidest to be rid of Renaud at once?”
If there was one point upon which Charlemagne was sensitive it was self-
pride; a mere suggestion of this kind would arouse him, and it was through
this weakness in his noble character that Ganelon and others accomplished
their designs; although Leon was honest, the suggestion was sufficient to
cause the emperor to postpone the execution until the morrow, and he
further ordered that this time, that there might be no possibility of a rescue,
that Renaud be placed under a strong guard composed of twelve peers,

Charlemagne telling them that he would hold them responsible for his
person.
Renaud gave his word, to the twelve peers who guarded him, laughingly,
that he would not stir during the night without their permission, and did he
do so he would not go without first seeing the emperor. His words were
prophetic.
Meanwhile, the news of the terrible position of Renaud reached
Montaubon. It caused the utmost concern to all, for Renaud was dearly
beloved. The enemy being now thoroughly prepared for surprise, a rescue
by means of a sortie was out of the question. Now for the first time in all
their trials was an appeal made to Maugis to exercise his occult powers.
There was no hope for Renaud otherwise. To these pleadings Maugis
replied:
“My brothers, it is useless; I cannot, though it is possible I might release
Renaud by my secret powers. Thou shouldst remember that I have made a
solemn oath before God and man to utterly abandon and forever give them
up; not only have I made this sacred oath before man, but I did solemnly
pledge my knightly word and honor to my wife, Yolande, that I would
forget, disuse, and put by those early teachings of the secret art forever and
forever. To break my oath to God would be a sacrilege condemning me to
eternal punishment, and to break my oath to Yolande would so dishonor me
that I could never face my kind again.”
“What if Yolande would absolve thee of thine oath?” asked Alard.
“Then should I be left to face my oath to God.”
“Then Renaud must perish,” cried Richard.
“Even so,” responded Maugis sadly.
Realizing that further pleadings were in vain, the brothers sought the
tender Yolande, and told her of the terrible position of their cousin. Much as
she feared occult things, as did every one at that period, the fate of Renaud
appealed strongly to her sympathies; to feel that any means of rescue should
be used to preserve him from a horrible death at the stake caused her to
throw aside her scruples and fears; and flying to the side of Maugis, she
added her pleadings to those of the others, and so, overcome by them all, he

finally yielded his consent, sadly depressed, though confident he could save
his cousin.
It was midnight in the camp of Charlemagne; the tent where Renaud slept
calmly was silent; two knights remained on watch at the door; the rest were
reposing in sleep on their arms, ready to spring up from the slightest alarm.
A shadowy figure now appeared on the scene, gliding noiselessly toward
the door; though they looked directly at it the guard saw it not, and when
the shape glided toward them and lifted its shadowy hand in front of their
faces, they, too, joined their comrades in slumber, sinking under a deep
hypnotic spell. It was the work of a moment for the shadow to glide within
the tent and set Renaud free, and a few moments later, unharmed and
undiscovered, he was on his way toward the castle of Montaubon.
Maugis, however, felt that he had not completed his work. Charlemagne
had that night visited his prisoner to assure himself that he was well
guarded, and had then retired; determined, however, to remain awake, he
resisted his desire to sleep until near midnight, and then so anxious was he
for revenge that he arose and gave orders that preparations should be made
for the execution at daybreak.
It was at this moment that Renaud stood erect among his sleeping guards,
stripped of his chains, and a few moments later the shadowy figure of
Maugis entered the tent of the emperor, who had meanwhile fallen into a
deep sleep. As Maugis appeared on the scene he came upon Roland, who
was endeavoring to awaken the emperor; it required but a few passes of that
shadowy hand to cause the eyes of Roland to also close into a helpless state
of somnambulance. The emperor was sleeping; Roland slept; the guards
slept; and Maugis was alone with the emperor free to work his will. One
stroke of the poignard would relieve him at once of his persecution and his
persecutor, but no thought of committing this cowardly act possessed his
noble soul. It was with the greatest reluctance he had used his occult powers
in the rescue of his cousin. He was, however, content to humiliate the
emperor and Roland, so he took from the side of Charlemagne his sword,
the sword of Roland, famous by the name of “Durandel,” and the but little
less noted sword of Olivier, called “Haute Clair.” He also took the swords
of the twelve peers who had guarded Renaud; he hesitated not to visit the
treasure of the emperor, taking therefrom his crown, his jewels and his
precious stones; all this he bore away and placed in the hands of a faithful

shepherd nearby, promising to reward him well for his fidelity and
discretion. Once more returning to the tent of the emperor he bound him by
one leg to the bed by one of the chains which had held Renaud, and
departed noiselessly and undiscovered.
As the shadowy figure was just passing through the opening of the tent,
Charlemagne awoke, and seeing the gliding form, he recognized the
gigantic proportions of Maugis. He could hardly believe his eyes; he sprang
up and would have followed him, but it was useless; he was retained by the
chain with which Maugis had attached him to the bed.
“What ho!” he shouted.
Then he called for his attendants by name, but of Roland and all the lords
in waiting nobody responded; every one was in a profound sleep.
What had happened? then suddenly he realized that his suite had all
succumbed to the magic art of Maugis, and that all his efforts to arouse
them would be in vain, and he fell back dejected on his bed.
Maugis, having taken his departure, hastened to join the shepherd with
whom he had left the treasure, and having recommended him to continue
guarding it with care, he took once more the road to the camp of
Charlemagne; but this time, thoroughly disguised, with body bent, and face
drawn, assuming the appearance of a travel-worn pilgrim. Thus changed he
presented himself again to the emperor, who lay depressed and consumed
with rage, still bound to his bed.
“Holy father, enter thou quickly,” cried Charlemagne to the supposed
pilgrim.
“What has happened?” exclaimed the holy father; “when I was coming
hither I passed freely in and no one stopped me; all thy lords and knights
were sleeping, and there was no guard before thy tent.”
“It is the work of that sorcerer Maugis. Come hither and break the chains
which hold me prisoner.”
The pretended pilgrim approached, and after some efforts succeeded in
freeing the discomfited emperor, who, being grateful, gave him gold; this
the pilgrim did not hesitate to quickly put in his pockets. Then the emperor

discovered a small bottle containing a very clear liquid lying upon his
couch. The pilgrim would have picked it up, when Charlemagne shouted:
“Have a care, holy father! that bottle belongs to Maugis, and without
doubt contains some death-dealing liquid, with which he intended my
destruction.”
Following these words, he dashed the vial into pieces upon the ground. It
then happened the liquid gave forth a subtle odor, which penetrated
everywhere and everyone was awakened; barons and knights, chiefs and
soldiers, all awoke and rubbed their eyes with astonishment to see the
pilgrim with the emperor, the entry of whom had aroused no one.
The emperor then recounted to his peers and courtiers what had
happened, and gave hasty orders for the immediate pursuit of the fugitive. It
chanced at this time that when the peers put their hands down to their sides
they perceived that their swords were missing, and at this moment the
guardian of the treasury rushed in, almost breathless with excitement, and
told the emperor that crown, jewels, precious stones, and money, all had
disappeared.
The emperor and the entire court were astounded, and gazed upon each
other in dismay. They were appalled by the awful power that had been
wielded against them. The emperor was the first to recover his senses.
“I will go myself in pursuit,” he shouted. “It will not be long before we
capture him; has any one seen him leave the camp, and what road hath he
taken?”
“Sire!” said the supposed pilgrim, “I can be thy guide. Coming hither, a
figure hurried by me, bearing swords and other objects in his arms, and I
know the road by which he left the camp, but thou must give me a horse to
lead thee with. I am too feeble to walk.”
A horse was secured immediately, and escorted by Charlemagne and
several knights, he started forth upon the road in pursuit of Maugis.
In the meantime, the soldiers had been aroused, and taking up their arms
followed in the rear. The pilgrim being once more on horseback felt at his
ease.

“I am not now very skillful,” said he. “I am not strong, but if you will
give me a sword, I feel I could use it once more, possibly well if required,
because in other days I used to manage a sword like a master.”
He was given a sword as he requested, and they continued upon the road.
Our pilgrim, followed by the imperial troops, now entered into a deep
gorge, a narrow passage formed on either side by inaccessible rocks.
“If thou wilt permit me, sire,” said the pilgrim, “I think we have nearly
overtaken him, and I will now march alone in advance, because if Maugis
sees me mounted upon a good horse, he will seek to capture it, then I can
summon you to my assistance, and by coming up quickly make yourself
master of this wicked sorcerer.”
This stratagem was thought to be good and the emperor approved of it.
Accordingly Maugis left them, and going some distance forward out of
their sight, hurriedly dismounted, and ascended, by means of a secret path
known only to himself, the high rock on one side of the gorge, and appeared
at the top overlooking the imperial cavalcade; then throwing off his
disguise, assumed his own form and stood erect in full view of the
astonished emperor and his knights.
“I am Maugis!” he shouted, “whom you would unjustly send to death,
and to-day I defy you once more, Charlemagne the proud! Do you
recognize here your crown and your treasures? and you, sir knights, the
haughty companions of your master, here are your swords, all in my power.
However, thou canst have them once more—if the emperor will grant peace
to the four sons of Aymon, all will be given back to you.”
Amid the furious cries of rage caused by this audacious defiance, Maugis
disappeared before their eyes.
While the pride of Charlemagne and his peers was deeply wounded, not
all the knights could restrain from laughing, secretly among themselves, at
their misadventures, for the bravery and audacity of Maugis and his
brothers had raised them highly in their estimation.
Being at last free from Charlemagne and his troops, Maugis returned
quietly to Montaubon with the treasures. He was received there with the
greatest joy, and when he showed his booty every one hastened to
congratulate him on the success of his enterprise. The wealth was taken care

of, and to the rage and mortification of Charlemagne, his golden eagle
adorned the most elevated position on the château of Montaubon, for on the
following morning when Charlemagne saw his golden eagle resplendent in
the rays of the sun, he was astounded. He called his peers and said to them:
“We are dishonored, and we must secure ourselves at any price.”
He thereupon called the Duke de Naimes and Oger, who were relatives of
Maugis, and ordered them to go to him, and say that if he would return what
had been taken he would be granted a truce of two years.
It was an imposing procession that set out for the château Montaubon,
headed by the two knights and followed by the flower of the court, and
when they appeared before Maugis and his brothers, they were given a
cordial and gracious reception.
“Brave knights,” said Oger, “thou canst not ignore the fact that the Duke
de Naimes and myself have personally done all we could to stop this war,
and that it would have terminated long since if the emperor had listened to
our advice; this being so, we have some cause to ask thee to return our
swords into our hands, and that if thou wilt also render all that thou hast
taken from Charlemagne into our hands, he will grant thee a truce of two
years.”
“Noble lords, and sir knights,” responded Maugis, “gladly will I grant thy
request, and willingly will I return unto Charlemagne all that has been taken
from him, on the condition of two years’ truce, and I can only hope and
pray that during this time a final peace will be concluded.”
Then Maugis gave to each knight his own sword, and put into the
possession of the Duke de Naimes all the treasure of the emperor that had
been taken from him.
The generosity and nobility of character Maugis had shown in this matter
awoke the friendly feeling and admiration of every peer of Charlemagne’s
court. Even the emperor was affected almost to tears, and a general demand
arose that the war be ended and peace be granted the brave young men. A
certain number of the courtiers went to Montaubon and endeavored to
persuade Maugis to appear again before the emperor, now that his heart had
been somewhat softened, and endeavor to secure peace, and when Maugis,
though strongly persuaded, hesitated, the Baron de Estouville even offered

to remain at Montaubon as a hostage, and the Duke de Naimes, in behalf of
all the knights present, guaranteed Maugis should return uninjured, then
Maugis, finally, decided to go, though much against the advice of Yolande,
who would have him absolutely refuse. When the party at last set out and
had covered half the distance to the camp of Charlemagne, Oger and the
Duke de Naimes, after consulting Maugis, rode forward to see
Charlemagne, in order to prepare him for the coming interview.
Unhappily, fate seemed to pursue the dove of peace all through the career
of Maugis and his brave brothers; no sooner did the horizon brighten for
them than dark clouds would again gather and the storm beset them more
furiously than ever. In this case it was Pinabel, an intimate of Ganelon, who,
seeing what was going on, mounted his horse and hastened to the emperor,
that he might arrive there first and prejudice him against the project of the
two knights.
By making false reports, all kinds of calumnies, and above all, by
appealing to the well-known weakness in the character of Charlemagne, his
self-pride, appeals to which he was always susceptible, it hardly needed the
lies and misrepresentations in addition to persuade him that the coming of
Maugis was an insult if not a treachery.
So furious was the emperor made by the crafty deceits of Pinabel, that he
summoned Olivier, saying:
“Harken me well, and obey me. I command thee to take four hundred
men and go forward on the road to Montaubon, where thou wilt encounter
the traitor Maugis and his brother Alard, who have the supreme assurance to
insult me by coming hither. I command thee, thou shalt make them thy
prisoners, even if thou dost lose thy entire force, and fail not,” he added
sternly, “under pain of my displeasure.”
“I go, sire,” replied Olivier, who forthwith departed.
Olivier, who had no knowledge of the pledge given by Oger and the
Duke de Naimes, assembled his troops quickly and departed on his mission.
It was at the very moment he left that Oger and his noble companion
arrived to announce to the emperor the result of their embassy.
“Sire,” said Oger, “we have come to announce to thee that Maugis and
his brother Alard are on their way hither to sue thee for peace; almost

without exception the peers of thy court are lost in admiration of the
nobility of character and the bravery of these young men. Sire, it is our
devotion to thee, as well, that leads us to wish a reconciliation, that this
cruel war may be ended with honor to both parties; we beseech thee, then,
sire, to listen to their penitencies and grant them again thy favor, and be
assured, sire, it will be an act to add to thy renown, and will be another
instance of thy greatness of character.”
“Thou hast gone too far,” said the emperor coldly.
At these words the brave old soldier hesitated not to face the emperor and
declared flatly:
“Sire! though our act may give thee displeasure, it was committed in the
interest of justice and through devotion to thine own interests. It was the
Duke de Naimes who has caused them to visit thee on the guarantee of our
word of honor that they should be protected; rather than that be violated, I
will, myself, if necessary, at the head of my own men, protect him from any
one who shall put the least insult upon a man I now regard as a common
friend.”
During this time Olivier had proceeded along the road until he
encountered Maugis, who was marching alone, without arms, leading
Bayard peacefully at the head of his escort. On seeing Olivier and his
troops, Maugis turned quickly to the Archbishop Turpin and De Estonville,
saying:
“You have betrayed me, behold the troops that come to make me
prisoner.”
“We have not betrayed you,” replied the knights, and De Estonville
added:
“God forfend us from committing such a vile infamy, and to prove it we
will join in your defense, and will fight for you to the death.”
While they were having this discussion, Roland dashed up to sustain
Olivier. The three knights, however, were determined to treat the affair with
resolution, advancing to within a hundred paces of the opposing force, and
shouting:

“Roland! stop, I pray you, in the name of honor, in the name of our word
pledged, that not any injury shall befall Maugis and Alard, if they would
visit the emperor and sue for peace.”
Olivier, who had left at the head of his troops against the dictates of his
own heart to fulfill the mission for the emperor, was the first to accept this
explanation joyfully, in which he was quickly joined by Roland, who said:
“We join you, with our brave companions; not only will we not arrest
you, but if Maugis wishes we will all accompany you direct to the tent of
Charlemagne. We could not do otherwise; we are all united in the same
thought that Maugis should be accorded peace, plain and entire, and now is
the time to have this miserable war terminated.”
In saying this, Roland uttered the sincere sentiments of his heart toward
Maugis, having always found him so brave, so loyal, and so true, and he
could not restrain from testifying to his feelings on this occasion. Entirely
reassured by this friendliness, Maugis yielded himself into their hands, and
they all, once more, took up their march for the camp.
On their arrival the emperor greeted them with a stern brow, and his face
flushed with anger; a great hush fell upon the assembled company and an
embarrassing silence ensued that was of ominous portent. Oger would have
spoken, but Charlemagne, with an imperious gesture, stopped him, saying
in a voice hoarse with passion:
“Silence! I am your master, let it suffice, once for all that I have decided
that this traitor Maugis shall be punished like a rebel, as he is, and this time
he shall not escape me.”
“Sire, that we shall not willingly permit,” responded the veteran Oger,
fearlessly gazing into the face of Charlemagne. “No! it shall not be said we
have given our word in vain; our honor is above all and unto the gravest
consequences, understand, we shall defend him against you.”
At these defiant words a great hush fell upon the assembled courtiers, and
so intense was the moment that not a word was said, while Charlemagne sat
with eyes blazing, clutching his robe in his hands too amazed for utterance.
It was at this moment that Maugis, perceiving a situation so tense would
evidently lead to a conflict, advanced and modestly addressing the emperor,
said:

“Sire! I have complied with all the conditions you have imposed upon
me. I have not swerved from a single point. I came here alone, without
arms, on the faith of these brave knights to ratify with you the basis of a
peace. What reproaches can I merit for this? If I have fought against thee, it
is because thou hast incessantly pursued me; because thou hast tracked me
like a wild beast, and all because at the beginning I refused to sustain thee
in a war where my honor commanded me to remain neutral. Ah, sire!”
earnestly pleaded Maugis, “reflect, examine my actions well; judge my
conduct with impartiality, and thou wilt end in rendering me the justice
which is my due.”
It needed but these firm and modest words to add to the evident signs of
disapproval on the part of his courtiers to convince Charlemagne that he
had gone too far; that with but few exceptions his entire court was against
him, and that if he continued his policy there would be no other outcome
than his own humiliation, if not defeat. Quick of resource, however, he
pondered but a moment before he made reply, and turning to Maugis, said:
“Art thou prepared to make thy cause good, in single combat arms in
hand?”
This change in the aspect of the subject by an appeal to a single combat
was a happy thought; it restored the emperor in the opinion of his knights
and offered a solution of the differences customary and honorable in those
warlike times. Maugis, on his part, hailing any prospects to secure peace
with joy, promptly answered:
“Right willingly, sire, will I accept thy challenge; and all I ask is, that the
Archbishop Turpin, Oger, the Duke de Naimes and Olivier will 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 yield
there can be no more said. I regret only that our humble prayers for thy
pardon have not prevailed. We never would deliver Renaud to you, because
our honor is opposed to it, and because there never was yet an Aymon who
would purchase peace at the price of infamy and cowardice.”
Maugis and his brothers, then saluting the emperor with the most
profound respect, withdrew.
Charlemagne, now giving himself up entirely to his vindictive feelings,
his rage for vengeance now paramount, summoned his council of state and
outlined the course he had decided to follow; he ordered preparations to be
made immediately for a general assault. The troops were to be assembled
completely armed, under the walls of Montaubon, and the machines of war
for hurling stones, catapaults and battering rams, were to be at once
transported thither.

Maugis, on his part, knowing what was coming, was not inactive; he
placed his soldiers behind the ramparts to the best advantage to resist attack.
The next day at sunrise the assault occurred, made with great vigor.
Maugis allowed them to approach, place their scaling ladders, and even to
commence to mount them, then at a given signal they by united effort
created great havoc and carnage among them by pouring upon them boiling
oil, and by burying them beneath a quantity of enormous stones; still the
enemy persisted and the assault continued fiercely; but such was the awful
slaughter of his troops, that at the end of an hour, the emperor, dismayed by
his losses, ordered a retreat and re-entered the camp, followed by his
depleted legions. He had suffered not only defeat, but disaster.
This experience taught the emperor that Montaubon could never be taken
by assault, and he thereupon determined to blockade the château so
vigorously, and by famine reducing its inhabitants to the last extremity,
force them to capitulate. In fact, hunger had already commenced to worry
them, and only a short time after this siege began the awful specter of
starvation stared them in the face, and soon thereafter, men, women, and
children were lying around exhausted with hunger, and striving to prolong
their existence by eating the buds and roots of the trees.
Famine, with all its horrors, was upon them, but still the impenetrable
cordon remained encircling them, and the conspirators heard with
vindictive glee of the terrible straits of the inhabitants of the castle.
The situation of the people behind the ramparts of Montaubon was truly
desperate. They were forced to devour all kinds of living animals and even
insects, and at a point where everything seemed exhausted, to add to the
horror, a pest followed, which threatened to decimate completely the
miserable population.
Some appealed to Maugis once more to exercise his magic power to
deliver them, but he firmly refused, saying:
“I have already incurred the wrath of God by such efforts; not only did I
violate solemn oaths that I made, by practices condemned by the wise and
the good, but instead of relief, it brought only new misfortunes. I will have
no more of it; rather than that I would prefer death, but I will never yield.”

The majority of his captains supported Maugis in his determination not to
surrender. They were undismayed by the horrors surrounding them. Said
Maugis:
“If I were the only victim demanded by the emperor, to save you I would
gladly surrender; but you know that if we yield we shall all be put to the
sword. We have no quarter to expect from Charlemagne; we must continue
to resist.”
These words encouraged his men and caused them to be resigned to
further suffering.
The awful suffering and carnage occurring within the château of
Montaubon moved the hearts of all of Charlemagne’s court. All the lords,
with the aged Duke d’Aymon at their head, went to demand grace for the
besieged from Charlemagne, but he peremptorily refused, and when they
supplicated him he answered by ordering an assault.
Thus to the horrors of siege and famine was added the horrors of war.
Great masses of rock, hurled into the château by the catapaults and
besieging machines, crushed out the lives of many of its inhabitants.
In the midst of these adversities Maugis was ever sustained by his noble
wife, who always preserved her serenity and courage.
Richard, who realized that each day rendered their power of resistance
less possible, urged that they surrender.
“No,” replied Maugis, “let us continue to resist. Something within me
tells me that we yet shall be saved.”
Charlemagne, now seeing the weakened condition of his enemy, resolved
to end it all by a single blow. Taking some of his choicest troops, a
determined assault was made upon the fortress, but once more he met
defeat. The feeble garrison, gathering all the force that remained in them,
repulsed the besiegers victoriously; and hurled them into the castle moat.
Meantime the situation had become so desperate that Maugis, usually so
resigned and patient, even commenced to despair; but he would not think of
surrendering, death rather than that, and he made the resolve to retreat to the
citadel of the fortress with his brothers and those belonging to him; then set

it on fire and perish in the flames, first giving the inhabitants their liberty to
surrender, or do otherwise, as it might seem best to them.
“Loved one,” said Yolande, “what thou deemest best is best. I have
followed thee in life. I will follow thee in death, for life without thee would
be death; and here, embracing her two sons, her mother’s heart nearly
succumbed; that they should perish was indeed a cruel blow, but choking
back her tears she said, in firm tones:
“Let it be so!”
The three brothers of Maugis, and Renaud likewise, agreed that to perish
was the only thing left for them.
At this juncture an aged man was ushered to their presence. Said he:
“Most noble lord! many years ago, ’tis said, there stood a fortress upon
this mountain, even where Montaubon now stands, and methinks I have
heard my father’s father tell how in the old days there did a subterranean
passage exist which led from hither and opened into the forest of the
Serpante yonder, beyond the lines of Charlemagne. Find this and we are
saved.”
“Knowest thou where the opening is?” demanded Maugis.
“Alas!” responded the old man sadly, “I know not; it be only one of the
forgotten memories of the tales of my youth, renewed in my mind by much
suffering.”
At these words the hopes that were raised in the hearts of all who heard
were dashed to the earth.
“Did such a passage exist, where could it be found?” It was more than
probable that, choked by débris, it had been built over by the solid walls of
the new château, and even if it had ever existed was now thoroughly
hidden.
“Use thine occult powers!” whispered Yolande.
Then Maugis and the little company proceeded to make a thorough
exploration of the castle, visiting in succession all of its towers and
subterranean parts.

In every underground passage and room Maugis would pause, and
standing erect, with arm outstretched, slowly sweep a circle about him,
when it was complete only to drop his hand and bow his head, saying:
“I find nothing.”
Hope seemed to have left them, there was only one more place to visit,
one of the towers at the northeast part of the ramparts, known as “Tour de la
Bellevue.” Here, in its subterranean depths, the little company assembled
for the last trial, pausing breathless with expectancy, while Maugis closed
his eyes and slowly made the mystic circle around the torch-lighted room.
When half-complete, he paused and a look of hope stole over his face; once
more he swept the circle and again paused at the same point; a third time
did he repeat this motion, then opening his eyes, with joy lighting his face,
he said:
“It is here.”
Tools were hurriedly brought, digging commenced, and at the end of an
hour the passage opening stood revealed. Richard went forward to explore
it, while the rest hastened upward to make preparations there for immediate
departure. Nearly overcome with joy, to think not only would they succeed
in escaping from Charlemagne, but in mystifying him as well.
In the meantime, Richard having returned with the joyful news that the
passage was all clear, Maugis summoned his people, and distributed torches
among them, and giving the stronger the more precious objects to carry,
started them under the leadership of Richard on their journey though the
passage.
Maugis hastened to his tower, where in the hurry and excitement of his
departure, Yon, his brother-in-law, was lying forgotten, confined to his bed
by a sickness which had affected him ever since his treason.
Maugis was about to lift him in his arms to bear him away, when Alard
said:
“Let him lie. He is the cause of all our misfortunes.”
“He is culpable, that is true,” replied Maugis, “but he is miserable, and
that is claim enough upon us not to abandon him;” and with these words he
took the suffering king and bore him away among the others.

At sunset they had made the passage of the tunnel safely and came out
into the forest. A little later they entered another forest called “D’Arsene,”
under the leadership of the old man, who conducted them to the abiding
place of an old hermit, whose store of food illy sufficed for the wants of the
famished people, and who, exhausted, here stopped all further progress and
ate whatever they could find. The soldiers threw themselves upon the
surrounding foliage and devoured it. By great good fortune they then
encountered some shepherds with their flocks, and Maugis having bought
sheep to feed the famished people, and having fully satisfied their voracious
hunger, they rested during the whole of the succeeding day and the day
following.
Maugis, with an escort, then rode on in advance to the city of Dordogne,
where, when they learned of his arrival, the inhabitants came out to meet
him, with cheers and cries of joy. The enthusiasm soon penetrated
throughout the city and its environs, and that day, at least, everybody was
rejoicing. The next day Maugis received the oaths of fealty of the lords
from all the surrounding country.
For eight days nobody had appeared on the ramparts of Montaubon,
visible to the camp of Charlemagne. The emperor decided that everyone
must have succumbed, that the fortress could be entered without danger,
and when a short time afterward Roland, Olivier, and the Duke de Naimes
rode in, having battered down the great gate, they were greeted everywhere
with silence. Everywhere in the city and the fortress decaying bodies were
lying about, unburied, emitting the most pestilential odors, which finally
became so great they were forced to retreat. In vain they searched for
Maugis and his brothers. It was impossible to find them.
Maugis was very soon apprised that Charlemagne had occupied
Montaubon and was sorely tempted to besiege him in retaliation and submit
him to the same tortures he had suffered. But in this he was deterred by the
conscientious Yolande, who said:
“While thine oath of fealty might permit thee to defend thyself, if
attacked by him, it will surely be a violation of it if thou dost attack him.”
Meanwhile, the principal lords of the court could not conceal their joy at
the escape of the sons of Aymon, and later, when the scouts sent in all
directions to discover their whereabouts reported to the emperor that they

had retired to Dordogne, where they had raised a formidable army, the
emperor at once gave orders to raise the camp.
He directed the march of his army to Montorgueil, a few leagues from
Dordogne, persisting in his vindictiveness in attacking the sons of Aymon
anew.
Learning of this movement, Maugis would not this time suffer himself to
be besieged the way he was at Montaubon. He mounted his horse and set
out to meet the enemy, having first said to his soldiers in a proclamation
that personally he would not enter a fight against Charlemagne, but for the
fact he desired to give them an opportunity to avenge those dear ones they
had lost.
Arriving at a short distance from the imperial army, Maugis stopped and
sent forward his esquire, bearing a piece of olive branch to demand peace of
the emperor.
This envoy was badly received by the emperor, who greeted him with
harsh words and insults, and gave orders to commence the attack.
Maugis, then feeling he had exhausted every resource, made a fierce
charge upon the first knights, who had come forward to obey the order of
Charlemagne, hurling them lifeless at the feet of the emperor. Then retiring
he headed his soldiers, and uttering the war-cry of Dordogne, made an
irresistible charge on the troops of Charlemagne, who wavered and broke
and were thrown into confusion. The Duke de Naimes, seeing this, seized
the golden banner, and placing himself at the head of the royal army, tried
to rally them; but it was hopeless, they were fast disappearing under the
fierce assaults of the soldiers of Maugis. They had nearly succeeded in
surrounding the emperor, who was only saved by the quickness of Roland,
when the signal for retreat was given.
This signal everyone obeyed, except the brave Richard de Normandie,
who, oblivious to all else, could not endure the thought of defeat, and tried
to cut off the troops of Maugis just before the gates of Dordogne, an attempt
in which he did not succeed.
Profiting by the ardor of the duke, Maugis hurried the retreat of his
troops, causing them to rush pellmell into the city, tempting Richard,
obstinate in his pursuit, to follow, thinking his enemies to be demoralized.

This strategic move was successful. Getting Richard once inside of the
gates, Maugis caused them to be closed and guarded behind them, making
him a prisoner, and seeing that resistance was useless, Richard de
Normandie and his men were forced to surrender.
The loss of this new battle added more to the grief and rage of
Charlemagne and stimulated him still further in his relentless pursuit of the
sons of Aymon.
As both sides required some little time to recuperate from the battle,
several days passed without an engagement. It was during this period of
quiet that King Yon died, in great suffering. Consumed with regrets, he
begged Maugis and his brothers to forgive him for all the evil they had
endured through his fault. He confirmed to Maugis the donations of
Montaubon and its dependencies, and drew his last breath in the arms of his
brother-in-law, who mourned him as sincerely as if he had never been guilty
of a vile treachery.
After the obsequies, in which the entire army took part, Maugis
proceeded actively to strengthen the defenses of the city in case of an attack
from the waiting enemy. It was during this period of the cessation of
hostilities that an extraordinary incident occurred. Maugis was an adept at
assuming disguises, and one day he determined to visit the camp of
Charlemagne; perfectly fearless as to the possible result of his perilous
mission, he set out, having taken the shape of an old knight, infirm and
miserable, and entered the camp of the emperor, leaning heavily on his
staff. So sorry was his aspect that the sentinels made fun of him.
“Ho! ho!” shouted one of them after him. “Hast thou come to take the
city?”
This jibe was greeted with roars of laughter. Passing onward quietly, the
old knight made no reply. As he proceeded, Pinabel, seated in front of his
tent, laughed at him and sneeringly inquired:
“Ho! brave knight, hast thou come to fight Roland?”
Maugis, nettled by the insolence of the knight, replied:
“Roland has done nothing to me, therefore I have no reason to fight him,
but if you will try it with me, I will punish you for your insult and your
cowardice, for all the world knows you are bravest only when you are

dealing with some one whom you think is incapable of defending himself.
Only for that, you never would have dared to insult me and my white
hairs.”
Pinabel, furious, seized a picket and would have struck the old knight,
when Oger, who arrived on the scene, separated them.
“He insulted me,” said the supposed old man.
“He had the audacity to doubt my courage,” cried Pinabel.
“Thou art wrong, Pinabel,” responded Oger, “and this man may demand
of you any reparation he may require.”
“I know of no other reparation than to fight me,” answered Maugis, “or
else I will publish him to all the world as a coward.”
By this time a crowd of soldiers and knights had gathered around the
contending parties, and the noise of the altercation had reached the ears of
Charlemagne, who caused them to be summoned before him.
“Who art thou?” demanded he of Maugis.
“Sire,” replied he. “I am Sieur de la Perron of Château Raucourt, who
having been to the holy land, where I did battle with the Saracens, do now
wend my weary way homeward, that I may pass my remaining days in
peace. The knight here present has insulted me,” he continued, “without
cause, and when I gave him the provocation in return, he, instead of
accepting battle, threw himself upon me with a stick, and but for the timely
appearance of this noble lord,” indicating Oger, “I should have been struck
by the scoundrel.”
“Pinabel is undoubtedly wrong,” said Charlemagne. “But if you persist in
fighting how will you defend yourself? He is young and vigorous, and you
are on the borders of the grave.”
“It is true, sire, I am paralyzed on my right side, but I can rely upon my
left arm. Do you think I shall allow that to stand in the way if my adversary
is willing to fight?”
This strange statement put Pinabel in a very false position; to accept was
an act of cowardice, and to refuse would make him a laughing stock. He
was at a loss what to do.

The old knight grew impatient, and insisted the fight take place,
approaching and menacing Pinabel with his cudgel, and seeing this,
Charlemagne was forced to order the combat.
Pinabel, now exasperated, drew his sword and rushed at the defenseless
old knight, but he stepped aside with great dexterity, avoiding the shock,
and then turned with incredible quickness and gave his adversary such a
heavy blow on the wrist with his staff that he dropped his sword. A second
blow in the stomach sent him tumbling to the feet of Charlemagne. Then
placing his foot on Pinabel’s throat, the old knight menaced him with his
staff, held aloft in his left hand. The now thoroughly frightened Pinabel,
trembling for his life, implored the grace of his conqueror, who permitted
him to arise while he regarded him with contempt.
The emperor and all the knights greatly marveled. Maugis was then
permitted to visit the camp, of which privilege he was not slow to avail
himself, making a thorough inspection throughout.
In passing again the tent of Pinabel, upon leaving, reassured by the fact
that his disguise had not been penetrated thus far, he determined to play him
a trick. It can be readily conceived that Pinabel was not charmed by his
visit, and he forthwith ordered his esquires to seize the old man and bind
him solidly. But when they attempted to do so Maugis hypnotized them,
and so benumbed them they appeared to be almost asleep, and when he
approached Pinabel, the coward was so appalled at the manifestations of a
power so little known at that remote age, and doubly terrified at being alone
with the old knight, that he fell to his knees and supplicated him for pardon.
“I will spare thy life,” said the old knight in a terrible voice. “It hath no
value in my eyes; heaven hath condemned thee.”
Pinabel at these words raised his eyes, and there recognized that Maugis,
the terrible warrior sorcerer, stood before him. The coward would have
cried out, but his tongue was paralyzed and the sounds died upon his lips,
his limbs seemed stricken, and with a look of anguish on his face he fell in a
heap.
Maugis, much pleased to have given the coward this fright, left the camp
and arrived safely at the city of Dordogne.

CHAPTER XV.
The captivity of the Duke de Normandie was insupportable to
Charlemagne, for he was one of his bravest and most redoubtable knights.
The emperor complained bitterly to his peers and raved like a man out of
his senses at the infamy of Maugis in retaining his prisoner.
“Consider, sire,” responded Roland to him, “it seems to me that Maugis
is perfectly right, and I am astonished that you fail to recognize it. He
would be pushing his generosity to blindness if he allowed Richard to go.
Do you not remember how grandly Maugis has acted in the past, and with
what admiration he has inspired us all? How he gave you back your crown
and your treasures; how he returned to each of us our swords, which he had
a perfect right to keep? Can you not see in these actions not only generosity,
but grandeur of soul of the highest degree? Alas! how have you returned
these acts of greatness? You tightened the cordon around Montaubon and
besieged him anew with such vigor that only a few soldiers and their
families escaped. The rest of the inhabitants died of famine or of pest. You
have pursued him with bitterness and sought to take him alive that you
might make him suffer the most rigorous punishment. If he captured the
Duke Richard, was the duke not pursuing him to the very entrance of the
city, in order to capture him and deliver him to you? Again, do you not
remember what you would have done to his brother Richard, when you had
him in your power? That he escaped death was certainly not due to your
pardon, but because Maugis wrested him from the hands of his
executioners.”
“Of what avail to thus recount the past?” demanded Charlemagne
uneasily.
“Simply this, sire!” continued Roland boldly. “If Maugis should release
the Duke de Normandie, I should tax him of folly. I am surprised he has
been so lenient as not to execute him at once, and if you would save him

from that fate, it would be best for you to take immediate steps by granting
Maugis those conditions of peace he has so long desired.
“Never!” cried Charlemagne obstinately.
“Sire, I beseech thee, reflect,” persuaded Roland. “Reverse your decision
and do not seek to further abuse the magnanimity of a man so brave as
Maugis. Grant him, therefore, sire, peace. I ask it of you in the name of all
your most noble knights.”
These sincere words at last produced on Charlemagne the most profound
impression. He thereupon charged Oger and the Duke de Naimes to go to
Maugis and offer him peace on condition of the surrender of the Duke
Richard de Normandie, only he clung tenaciously to his first idea
concerning Renaud. He still insisted that Renaud should be delivered to
him. It was in vain his peers represented to him that this condition would be
refused as it had been in the past; but he turned a deaf ear to them, and still
persisted in his resolutions.
At this moment Pinabel, who had recovered from his fright, came
running up.
“Beware,” cried he. “Know thou that the old knight, who yesterday
enchanted me by his magical powers; the pilgrim whom you have fed, the
infirm and paralyzed knight whom you congratulated yesterday on the
result of the combat, are one and the same man, and that man is Maugis.”
At first they were all incredulous, but Charlemagne finally divined the
truth; but beyond creating astonishment it made no impression upon him.
He turned to Oger and De Naimes, and bade them go at once to Maugis and
lay before him his proposition.
The ambassadors at once proceeded to Dordogne, and in due time were
presented to Maugis, who gave them a cordial reception.
The Duke de Naimes laid before him the proposals of the emperor.
“Charlemagne has not departed at all from his original conditions,” said
Maugis in reply. “It is always the same. I would never deliver up my cousin
Renaud. An Aymon is incapable of such cowardice. He asks for the Duke de
Normandie—does he suppose I have lost all my bitterness? No, the
oppression of the emperor has hardened my heart. I am unpitying now. The

Duke Richard shall suffer execution, and you, sir knights,” he added sternly,
“if you ever come before me again and insult me with such infamous
propositions I will treat you as traitors and spies.”
The three envoys upon hearing this firm response turned away without a
word, provoked that the emperor would not recognize the noble character of
this man. They remounted their horses and returned to the camp, where they
repeated to him the words of Maugis, and swore to him that he was now
thoroughly angered, but Charlemagne seemed to be blind to the qualities of
such a brave man.
“Take care, sire!” cried Oger, “Maugis has been brave and generous up to
this day, but if he has lost his patience he will likely be severe to the other
extreme. Richard de Normandie is now in his hands, who can guarantee he
will be the only victim?”
Charlemagne reflected at this in silence, and was about to order Oger and
Roland to return to Maugis, when Pinabel once again intervened and
prevented the utterance of this good thought.
“It is difficult for me to see, sir knights,” said he, “why you all seem to be
in such fear of Maugis. That he is a brave man is true, but why should the
emperor retrace his steps? Do you not remember that Maugis has demanded
peace several times? Well! do you think that he would dare to touch a hair
of the Duke de Normandie? He knows too well it would be the departure
for him of the last chance of either pardon or mercy.”
This subtle advice, so harmonious to the prejudices of the emperor, had
the effect intended by Pinabel and the coterie of cowardly courtiers who
sympathized with him and who applauded the emperor when he uttered
these words:
“Enough! I do not know why I have been so weak as to bother with these
rebels. I can clearly see that if I commence to cede anything I can continue
to do so. Go,” said he, turning to the Duke de Naimes, “and signify my will
to Maugis, and say to him that the end of this day ends every chance for
him to secure any conditions of grace from me if he does not submit to my
conditions.”
Understanding at the outset that his mission would be a failure, and
thoroughly disgusted by the weakness of the emperor, the Duke de Naimes

declared shortly:
“Your majesty, I refuse to accept the mission,” and then withdrew from
the audience.
While this discussion was occurring at the imperial camp, Maugis was
deliberating with his three brothers as to the fate of the Duke de Normandie.
His associates would have him suffer the same fate as that to which
Charlemagne had condemned one or the other of them. Accordingly,
Maugis gave orders that preparations should be made for the execution, and
to give it proper effect, that it should take place from the highest tower of
Dordogne, in full view of the camp of Charlemagne.
These preparations were no sooner commenced than they were perceived
by Roland, who guarded that side, and he hurried immediately to the
emperor, filled with indignation.
“Sire,” said he, “is this the way you recompense the Duke Richard for his
devotion to you? If this be the way you recognize faithful services, it will be
but little encouragement to those who remain with you. I swear for myself
that I thought to see more generosity on your part.”
“Have no fears, Roland,” replied the emperor lightly; “these preparations,
which cause thee so much uneasiness, are merely a threat; they are simply a
means employed by Maugis to force us to come to terms of peace. As for
the Duke Richard, rest assured, I have no fears for his life.”
The next day, when everything was complete, the brave and fearless
Richard de Normandie sat in a strong room over the citadel of Dordogne,
engaged in a game of chess with Yon, the eldest son of Maugis, when two
officers with a guard appeared and announced they had come to bring him
to execution. He paid no attention to them, but calmly continued his game.
“My lord,” said the officer respectfully, “it is very painful to me to
interrupt thy game with this summons, but I have my orders, and must
execute them.”
Suddenly, and without warning, Richard leaped to his feet, and seizing
the heavy chessboard and using it as a weapon, he fell upon the guard with
such suddenness and fury that four of them were stretched lifeless on the
floor and the rest were driven from the room. Then he seated himself and
ranging the men upon the chessboard, continued the game as calmly as if he

had not been interrupted, calling his servants and ordering them to remove
the bodies of the soldiers with all the coolness that he would command
some small service.
The young son of Maugis was trembling so much at this violence that he
could not play, and Alard, who was waiting in the courtyard below for the
coming of Richard, being apprised of what had occurred, hurried to Maugis,
reporting that Richard was making a strong resistance, and had taken the
lives of the men sent to seize him.
Maugis went at once to the chamber of Richard, and demanded of him:
“Sir knight, why hast thou killed my people?”
“They came here,” responded Richard; “several men who interrupted the
game of chess I was playing with your son. They put their hands on me, and
I killed some of them, and put the rest to flight, that is all. It is no reason
because I am your prisoner why your people should insult me.”

CATHEDRAL OF MOUZON.

“We do not omit politeness here,” said Maugis, “and I know perfectly
well all the laws of chivalry. It is for that reason I am acting this way.
Charlemagne has abused me and has dishonored me. I simply retaliate. You
are my prisoner. I shall give you up to execution, that is my right. Have I
treated you the way my brother Richard was treated, when he was
condemned to the gibbet, and from which he escaped only through the
courage of his brothers? No, he was covered with chains like a criminal. I
would not subject you to that. I would employ no violence with you, but
you must realize that my soldiers came here to fulfill orders they had
received. There is only one way for you to escape death, that is to join my
service and become my friend.”
“That is impossible,” replied Richard. “I have sworn an oath of fidelity to
the emperor, and I never violate my oath.”

“Then you must be resigned to die. It is useless to lose any more time in
discussion that amounts to nothing.”
“Ah, well! let us go,” said Richard. “I know well the greatness of your
heart, and I deliver myself to you, believing you incapable of a mean
action.”
The Duke de Normandie forthwith surrendered, and was escorted to the
place of execution. Maugis had made preparations for that sorrowful
ceremony, so as to give it all the formidable display possible. All the troops
were under arms. At the last moment Maugis again appealed to Richard:
“Brave knight,” said he, “it is most painful for me to send to execution a
man of such courage and honor—renounce then the emperor, I pray thee,
and join us in seeking to attain peace.”
“No,” replied Richard, “I have sworn homage to Charlemagne, and
though I die because of his fault, I will not break my oath. If it depended
upon me to grant thee peace, I could ask for nothing better; therefore grant
thou me delay that I may send word to the emperor.”
Maugis at once called a herald, bidding him to take the instructions of
Richard and go with them to Charlemagne.
“Tell him,” said Richard, “that I am at the foot of the gibbet, to which I
am attached ready for the signal of death, and that I supplicate him to grant
my demand for peace. You will also beg of Roland and all the peers to seek
to obtain the peace on which my life depends.”
The herald hastened away and in due time appeared before Charlemagne
and acquitted him of his errand. Strange to say, the eccentric emperor was
inflexible, while he knew he was acting, with a few exceptions, without the
sympathy of his entire court, and even when all the peers, without
exception, fell on their knees to him, and supplicated him to save Richard
by granting peace to Maugis, Charlemagne was obdurate and stern in his
refusal to interfere, and as the herald was about to withdraw, Roland
stopped him.
“Say to Duke Richard de Normandie,” cried he, “that though the emperor
will blindly let him die, we, his courtiers, do protest and disapprove. Tell
him that we will abandon Charlemagne and his service, that we none of us

consent to devote ourselves to a prince who would be willing to see a man
sacrificed like him, merely to support his wounded vanity.”
It was an exciting moment. Then with one accord the peers acclaimed the
words of Roland.
The suspense was intense.
In the midst of it all Charlemagne sat stern and unchanged.
Then the Archbishop Turpin came forward and said: “Sire, I leave thee
with regret, but thou art committing a grave wrong. I must therefore leave
thee. I prefer to sustain my honor rather than abandon it in a cowardly
way.”
Charlemagne still sat with pallid face and stern brow, and said not a
word.
The peers, one after another, all then left his presence, each going to their
own quarters, forthwith gathering their belongings, striking their tents and
assembling their own soldiers, conducted them without the imperial camp.
The remaining soldiers of the emperor gazed aghast, astonished and
fearful to see the army of Charlemagne reduced more than one-half by the
departure of the peers and their men.
Two men only viewed this movement with satisfaction. They thought that
now they had become indispensable to the emperor, and that they could
secure his confidence to their own profit. It is needless to say these two
were the traitorous Ganelon and the cowardly Pinabel.
In the meantime the herald had returned to Dordogne, and repeated
faithfully all that had occurred. The Duke de Normandie perceived that it
was useless to count on the support of any one who would thus abandon
him when he had shown the devotion of refusing to escape death at the
price of dishonor.
“It is well,” said he, turning to Maugis with a smile; “I am at thy service.
I am ready to die.”
“This is too much,” cried Maugis, hastening to Richard and embracing
him. “Pardon me,” said he, “for the cruel hours I have caused you to pass. I
was certain in advance that you would prefer death to being false to your

oath, and I only employed the stratagem to obtain by force from the
emperor what it seems impossible for me to obtain by my prayers. There
was no reason why Charlemagne should be wanting in generosity to me in
face of the support of such consequences. Thou shalt not die.”
Maugis then sent his herald to the twelve deserting peers, bidding him to
tell them that in consideration of their grand action he had pardoned
Richard de Normandie.
In reply to this message the peers gave Maugis to understand that they
should refuse reconciliation with the emperor until he had granted him
peace.
The twelve peers then made preparations for their departure homeward,
but before leaving ranged themselves under the walls of Dordogne, and
exchanged signals of adieu with its brave defenders.
The Emperor Charlemagne, though a man of violent passions, obstinate
and eccentric, was withal a wise man. The view of these preparations for
departure of these noblemen, who had been his best friends, caused him to
seriously reflect. He was seized with grave doubts as to the wisdom of his
course, and he called Pinabel and told him of his fears.
Here it was the cowardly adviser failed to grasp the situation, which
called for the utmost diplomacy. Assuming upon his position now as the
sole adviser of the emperor, he uttered these bold words:
“Sire! I comprehend neither your fears nor your regrets,” said he. “Can
you not do for yourself as well as you could before the departure of these
rebellious knights? Have you not enough soldiers to reduce whom you
would, and then you may battle with your own subjects, who owe you
obeisance? Therefore force these contumacious peers to remain. You have
been made their commander and they must obey you.”
Charlemagne revolted at such advice against noblemen whom he loved,
especially coming from the mouth of a man who compared with them
neither in character nor ability, and one whom he distrusted more and more.
His eyes commenced their well-known ominous sparkling; like a flash it all
came to him, that this man, to whose insidious advice he had listened so
long, was guided by an ignoble ambition, that he had not scrupled to
compromise the dignity of his sovereign. Like a flash it came to

Charlemagne how he had been misled by the deceitful Abbé Gorieux, who,
however, by this time, had craftily absented himself, no one knew whither,
to escape what he saw was the inevitable end of the conspirators. Like a
flash it came to the now thoroughly aroused Charlemagne how he had been
misled by deceits and flatteries and appeals to his self-pride to do injustice
and compromise his dignity.
“Enough!” he thundered to the shrinking Pinabel. “Thou hast abused my
confidence; thou hast thought by appealing cunningly to my vanity to
prevent me from exercising my first and best thoughts; thou hast worked on
my pride to a point where I would lose my army rather than see justice. It
shall be so no longer. What, ho there! a guard,” he shouted, and when the
officers appeared, he ordered:
“Bind this villain hand and foot and bear him to the camp of the twelve
peers. Tell them,” he commanded, “that I deliver into their hands the
traitorous coward who has, by his perfidious councils, tried to sow discord
between us, and who, actuated by a mean jealousy of the brave Maugis, has
kept me always excited against the sons of Aymon. Tell them to do with him
what they will, I abandon him to their resentment. Tell them that I hope they
will take into account this tardy act of loyalty on my part, and that they will
return to my camp and continue to aid me by their good counsels.”

CHAPTER XVI.
The twelve peers, who really loved and admired the emperor, could not
but accept his overtures. After a consultation they decided to return to the
camp. Before doing so, however, they sent to Dordogne, under a strong
escort, the cowardly Pinabel, with a message to Maugis that it was this man,
with Ganelon, the latter having unfortunately escaped with the Abbé
Gorieux, who had been the cause of all the trouble that had occurred, even
to that very day, and they desired that Maugis should deal with him as he
deemed best.
In due time, Pinabel, with his escort, arrived at Dordogne, and the traitor
was cast into a dungeon until further orders.
When the twelve peers had arrived at the camp Charlemagne assembled
them, and said:
“Noble lords! it is true I am too severe, nevertheless the sons of Aymon
have been guilty of revolt against me, with their cousin Renaud. They
certainly merit punishment. I have felt that I must have the satisfaction to
have one at least expiate the fault of all. I feel that my position is just and
right, therefore go thou,” said he to the Duke de Naimes and say to them,
“that if one of them will yield his life in expiation of the faults of all, the
rest shall receive full pardon and safety from dishonor, and be allowed to
retain full possession of all their rights.”
The Duke de Naimes duly arrived at Dordogne and acquitted him of his
message. The family were plunged into a stupor of consternation. Maugis
alone retained his coolness.
“The demand of the emperor is just,” said he, “and for the sake of all
must be acceded to.” Then turning calmly to the Duke de Naimes, he said:
“Go to Charlemagne and say to him that I will offer myself as a sacrifice
for the good of mine. Tell him that to-morrow I will deliver myself up, and
that I will release Richard de Normandie safe and sound.”

Yolande, grief-stricken, threw herself upon her husband’s neck, crying:
“Canst thou be so cruel, dear one? think, thy sons will be fatherless and
my life a living death without thee.”
Maugis disengaged her arms and putting her aside, said gently:
“It is duty that calls me, I must obey.”
“Thou shalt not go, Maugis. I am the one to be sacrificed. Thou hast a
wife and sons. I am alone!” cried Richard.
“Not so,” here interposed Alard. “It is I who will go.”
“No! no!” interposed Guichard. “I am the least of thee, my brothers,
surely it is just that I should be the one to suffer.”
“This must not be so. No one shall go but me,” expostulated Renaud.
“All these troubles came through my father’s fault; surely it is but justice
that I should go.”
“Enough, dear friends; let this contention cease. It is decided. I will go.
Let there be no more said.”
Then all the prayers of his wife and his sons were vain. Maugis would
not renounce his intention, nothing could shake his resolution; but finally,
becoming wearied of their tears and entreaties, he feigned to surrender to
them, and proposed a plan for selecting the one who should be sacrificed in
fulfillment of the conditions of the emperor.
“To-morrow,” said he, “at sunrise, we will all assemble in the grand
square of the city, and putting our names on slips of paper, one shall be
drawn in the presence of all the people, and in this way we shall designate
who shall be delivered to Charlemagne.”
The following morning Maugis was nowhere to be found. He had
disappeared, though diligent search was made for him. Yolande, distracted,
went about asking all whom she met if they had seen her husband, but
getting no news of him she thought then he must have gone to the imperial
camp with the Duke de Normandie. Her fears making her desperate, she
returned to the palace, and taking her two sons hastened along the road
thither without an escort. She could not entertain the idea that Maugis
should suffer alone. She had determined to die with him.

More prudent than Yolande, the brothers of Maugis assembled the troops,
and followed by the people, started to the succor of Maugis, whom they
thought to be in danger.
Meanwhile Maugis, Naimes, and the Duke Richard had arrived and
presented themselves before the emperor, who could hardly restrain his
agitation when he saw them. He greeted them warmly, and in his pleasure
extended both hands to them. Then remembering that he was an emperor,
he collected himself, and assuming a sternness that did not accord with his
real feelings, he said to Maugis:
“You have fought against your emperor. You have merited death. You
well know what is the punishment for such a great crime. It is the scaffold!”
“We know and we have come to plead with you for him!” cried Yolande
at this moment, who had just arrived, and hastening forward with her two
sons, threw herself at the feet of the emperor: “We ask your grace, sire, and
if thou dost refuse we beseech thee to let us be punished with him.”
“And I!” cried the emperor, who could no longer conceal his emotion, “I
love you all, because I am your second father. Maugis, I pardon thee, be
relieved, but thou must expiate thy fault, for it is great. I decree that thou
shalt sojourn in the holy land, for I know not how long; perhaps a year; but
if thou art always as loyal and as brave as thou hast been, thou wilt return
covered with glory and new laurels. Thou wilt abandon thy magic and the
black arts, for the safety of thy soul, and glorify God by this expiation. As
to thy wife and children, they shall be as my own. They shall never leave
me, and I will this very day restore to them their rights and property. Bid
thee farewell to thy family and thy brothers; go and God be with thee.”
Maugis, overcome with emotion, made his adieus to the emperor, and
affectionately embraced Yolande, who swooned from her awful grief, and
caressed his children. There was not a dry eye among the courtiers there
assembled as he departed for Dordogne, accompanied by Richard de
Normandie, who swore he would not leave him until he reached the port
from which he sailed for Jerusalem.
Halfway to Dordogne he encountered his brothers, who were coming to
his rescue with their troops, followed by the people, to whom he gave an
account of what had happened, and they then retraced their steps with him

to the city. He caused a flag of peace to be hoisted on the highest tower, and
sent to the emperor his famous horse Bayard, as a gage of reconciliation.
The brave demeanor, the resignation, and the lofty character displayed by
Maugis appealed so strongly to all the peers and knights that everywhere
they proclaimed their high admiration for him. Maugis asked the emperor
what he should do with Pinabel, and he replied that he abandoned him
entirely to Maugis to do with as he chose. And here the noble character of
Maugis was again exhibited. Instead of destroying his perfidious enemy, all
the vengeance he took was to provide him with a broken-down white horse
and set him free, warning him on pain of death to leave the states of
Charlemagne.
The next day Maugis embraced his brothers, commending his wife and
children to them, took off his armor, and assuming the habit of a pilgrim did
not even retain his sword, and set out on his journey; but they would not
leave him, and with Richard de Normandie, accompanied him to the coast
and saw him set sail for the holy land.

CHAPTER XVII.
Some days after the departure of Maugis, Duke Richard de Normandie
presented to Charlemagne the three brothers of Maugis, who remained in
France. The emperor received them kindly and restored to their possession
all their rights and property. During the same month the camp was broken
up, and the imperial army marched to the city of Liege, which became for
the time the capital for the empire.
Meanwhile, Maugis, habited as a pilgrim, convinced himself that the
occult knowledge he possessed and had reluctantly used when pursued to
the last extremity by Charlemagne, was the gift of Satan, rather than the
strange manifestations of natural laws, whose workings were unknown at
this period, except to the occult wisdom of the East, had determined to
abandon all warlike actions, and by devoting himself to prayer and
meditation, seek atonement in them for the terrible faults against God he
had committed; but this was not to be, as events subsequently proved.
Having at last arrived in view of the holy city, Jerusalem, then in
possession of the infidels, and before which the Christian army was
encamped, laying siege thereto—an army composed of noble knights,
assembled from all parts of Europe, who thought that they had been called
to redeem the sacred city from the sacrilegious possession of the Saracens,
to the glory of God, and the insurance of their own souls to an eternity in
Paradise.
The first occupation of Maugis was to prepare himself an humble abode
in a secluded spot within view of the holy city, where he could give himself
up to prayer and meditation undisturbed.
It chanced one day, that on going to a spring nearby to procure water, he
encountered a Christian knight, who studied his face with interest for a long
time and then said to him:
“Permit me, holy father, if I be not committing an indiscretion, to ask
who you are; something tells me that beneath that sacred habit you are

hiding a brave warrior; as for myself, I am the Comte de Rance.”
“My lord,” responded Maugis, “while I have no motive for hiding my
name, I must have your word that the disclosure I make shall be in
confidence. I am Maugis of Montaubon, eldest son of the Duke d’Aymon. I
had incurred the anger of Charlemagne in keeping a neutrality in a war
between him and my relative. For that reason he pursued me from that day,
without ceasing, until recently we made peace, when he pardoned my
brothers and all my relatives, on the condition that I should leave for the
holy land, making the pilgrimage to expiate my faults and the promise that I
would stay until he recalled me.”
At these words Count de Rance sprang from his horse, and falling on his
knee before him, said:
“By thy deeds, sir knight, thou hast proved thyself to be one of the most
noble men the world hath known. Surely thy duty to God at this most
critical juncture in our affairs, when our arms against the Saracens seem to
prevail not, lies not in prayer, but in warlike deeds, which thou hast proved
thyself so fitted to perform. I tender thee my homage and faith and
supplicate thee to command me and mine. There be other noble knights
who will gladly accept thy leadership.”
To this Maugis agreed, and accompanied the count to the camp of the
Christian army, where being made known, the noble knights on all sides
hastened to greet him, and followed the example of the Count de Rance in
paying him homage and tendering him unanimously command of all their
forces, and offered him the privilege of sharing in the booty already
captured from the enemy. This latter proposition, however, Maugis declined
to accept, taking only a horse and arms and armor.
The next day grand fêtes were celebrated in honor of the advent of the
new commander, and these being concluded, they proceeded to dispose
their forces for a new activity against the infidels.
At a council of war then held, Maugis arranged a plan to lure their foes
out of the city by causing them to think the Crusaders had raised the siege
and were abandoning their camp. All these strategic preparations were made
with the greatest silence and secrecy.

At daybreak the following day the Saracens beheld the retreat, and
thinking the camp abandoned, duly commenced to march out. They were
only allowed to advance to a point where their retreat could be readily cut
off. Maugis had secretly sent a number of troops, in command of the Count
de Rance, under the walls of the city, with instructions to cut the enemy to
pieces when they attempted to re-enter.
When the proper moment arrived, Maugis turned and hurled the main
body of troops upon the enemy so unexpectedly as to carry terror and
dismay into their ranks. They would have retreated, but it was in vain; the
Count de Rance appeared in their rear and prevented their entering the city.
The battle then waxed furious on both sides. The chief of the Saracens at
the head of his soldiers, fighting desperately, showed the greatest valor, but
Maugis was everywhere, and pushed his troops forward in a manner that
rendered useless all efforts of the enemy to escape.
The Count de Rance then unmasked the gate, and falling upon their rear,
cut them to pieces, profiting at the moment when the Saracens were flying
in retreat.
Their chief had been taken prisoner, when the inhabitants of Jerusalem
came to the rescue of the infidels by opening a gate which had escaped the
observations of the Crusaders. The pursuers would have followed the
fugitives into the city, but it was too late. The gates were closed upon them,
and it was in vain that they endeavored to force them. By this time the walls
swarmed with the soldiers of the infidel. Maugis, however, would not give
up, now that his troops were enthused by the victory, and caused a heavy
timber to be brought, which was hurled with all the force that twenty men
could bring to bear against the gate, regardless of the destruction wrought
upon them by the enemy on the walls above. When men were stricken down
at the battering ram, new ones came forward to take their places, and at last
the gates having yielded, the knights and soldiers victoriously penetrated
the city, slaying all whom they encountered on the way.
All resistance now being hopeless, the principal citizens, reduced to the
last extremity, appeared before Maugis, and yielded up to him everything
and supplicated him for an armistice, and he accorded them a two days’
truce, pending the ratification of a definitive treaty of peace.

When this news went abroad among the people they with one accord
gave thanks to Maugis. The ancient city, which had been in a state of fear
and consternation, now resounded with cries of joy. They would have
Maugis occupy the palace and become ruler of the city, but he refused to do
so, preferring his humble abode for all the luxury of the infidels.
Maugis remained in Jerusalem only sufficient time to establish order and
provide for the safeguard of the people from the infidels, and then
concluded a definite treaty of peace with the latter. Laying aside his arms,
and assuming once more the habit of a pilgrim, he retired to his hermitage.
The story of the exploits of Maugis was not slow in reaching France, and
caused the emperor to marvel greatly at the deeds of the brave man, and
resolving that he had lived long enough away from his family, he sent at
once a messenger to him, bidding him to return to Montaubon, that he had
completely pardoned him, and was anxious to see him once more.
Maugis, on receiving this message, would not remain a day longer than
possible on that strange soil. He embarked on a magnificent vessel,
presented by the King of Jerusalem, having been given many valuable
presents, and set sail homeward. Alas! fate had in store for him many more
vicissitudes; his fond hopes to be again in the midst of his family were to be
denied.
At first the voyage was prosperous, but at last they were attacked by
pirates in great force, and after being delayed by adverse winds they finally
encountered a tempest and nearly wrecked. They at last landed at Palermo,
on the Island of Sicily. There the king received them with honors and gave
Maugis a brilliant reception, and would have him remain with him for some
time, but Maugis declined.
It was while he was waiting at Palermo, repairing the damage done to his
ship by the tempest, and recruiting himself after the rigors of his voyage,
that an extraordinary event occurred. A war was declared against the King
of Sicily by the Saracens, and before any precaution could be taken a large
army landed on his coast. The King of Sicily, not being prepared to meet
this great force, was in great fear, but Maugis reassured him that he would
disembarrass Sicily of the Saracens, whom he had already defeated in
Palestine. The Sicilian army was hastily assembled before Palermo, and
Maugis placed himself at its head.

Everything being gotten quickly in readiness, Maugis marched out to
meet the Saracens without delay, who, thinking they were marching to
surprise their enemy unprepared for the unexpected change in the position,
caused by the sudden appearance of the Sicilian army, hesitated, while the
Sicilians advanced upon them firmly.
Emiraza, the chief of the infidels, whom Maugis had already defeated at
Jerusalem, little thought who he had opposing him once more. He galloped
forward to see if he could discover what caused this bold interference with
his designs, and when he animated his troops and brought them forward to
battle he soon perceived he was to meet with a very stubborn resistance.
Seeing a group of knights at the head of the Sicilian army, he charged upon
them with his escort. At that instant the cry of “Montaubon!” rang in his
ears. He stopped still, trembling, and asked how it was possible that Maugis
could be found in Sicily, when it was over five months since he had
departed from Palestine to return to France.
Meanwhile, regaining his courage, he continued his charge upon the
invincible group of knights, and was repulsed, and Maugis, taking
advantage of the confusion this repulse occasioned, threw his forces upon
the Saracens and completely routed them. In vain it was the infidels offered
a heroic resistance, they were forced to the seashore.
Emiraza, relying upon the swiftness of his horse, reached the shore,
plunged into the waves, and sought to gain his galley. When his soldiers,
later, were stopped by the sea, they were pressed upon by the victorious
Sicilians, until finally they were either killed or made prisoners to the last
man.
This victory covered Maugis with more glory than ever. He was
complimented by magnificent fêtes and given great honors. The king
himself would have him share his crown, but Maugis refused. He had but
one thought and that was to go home to his own country; to be reunited with
his family was his sole ambition.
After a few days spent in fêtes and rejoicing, Maugis embarked, and after
a short and uneventful voyage in due time reached Dordogne, whereupon,
being apprised of their arrival, Richard, Alard, and Guichard went forward
to meet him.

They were followed by all the nobility of the vicinity. The people formed
themselves in a line along the road, and their progress was marked by
cheers and acclamations, and with his name in every one’s mouth, Maugis
finally arrived at the palace.
His first thought was for his well-beloved wife. He was astonished not to
see her among the others. He interrogated his brothers, and they only
responded by silence.
“What signifies this silence?” he demanded of them. “Have you yet
another misfortune to announce to me? Has Providence again stricken me?”
“You must have courage, my dear Maugis,” responded Alard. “Your
noble wife is dead, and died with your name upon her lips. During your
absence, and in the failure to receive news of you, everyone thought you
dead. Yolande refused to be consoled. Certain noblemen dared to raise their
eyes to her, and when they sought to convince her you were no more, she
would not hear, and finally one of them took to her a piece of your armor,
pretending it to be a relic of your decease. Yolande was deceived by this,
and from that day commenced to despair. It was in vain that Charlemagne
assured her of your safety, and even a courier was sent to Jerusalem to
determine it. Everybody assured her that you were living, but she was
death-stricken. She faded in our arms and passed away, dying in the sweet
satisfaction that you had not ceased to love her.”
This sorrowful news caused Maugis the most intense anguish. The
strongman bowed his head and wept bitterly. He would not be consoled,
and calling together his brothers and his sons, he told them he had formed a
resolution that he should lose no time in carrying out. Said he:
“I have been blessed with all the triumphs that a man could desire. I have
acquired a universal renown. Nothing is wanting for me in honors or glory.
Alas! what use is it all to me now, when I have not Yolande to participate in
it with me? I was so anxious to be with my family again. I thought that I
could spend the rest of my days among you, but she is no more. It is a loss I
never can forget; therefore have I taken this resolution: I will quit the world,
and retiring to some solitude I will await the day when I can rejoin her.”
It happened that Renaud, the cousin of Maugis, had made a similar
resolve previously, to the same effect, and was now in some solitary retreat,

having bid adieu to his relatives.
All attempts to change the resolution of Maugis to carry out this plan
failed, and he only hesitated when told that he should remain and watch
over his children until they had passed the tender age.
It was about this time that the sons of Aymon were apprised of the death
of their aged father. The brothers desired Maugis to partition the property
equally among them, but he nobly abandoned all to them, not even
reserving Montaubon. Then for a long time he devoted his days to the
education of his sons. He instructed them himself in all the forms and
exercises of knighthood, placing continually before them a noble example
to follow. He saw with pleasure that one day his children would fulfill all
his hopes in force, in courage, and in honor.
When this noble father felt certain his sons would equal him he took
them apart one day and said to them:
“You are no longer children. The time has come when you should be
occupied with serious things. Your rank and your duty compels you to
consecrate yourselves to your country. Go now to the court, find the
Emperor Charlemagne, and pray him to accept you as his knights.”

CHAPTER XVIII.
When the sons of Maugis quitted their father the young men took the
road for the court, where they duly arrived, and demanded to be presented
to the emperor, as was usual at that period, for aspirants to the order of
knighthood. The lord in waiting, who did not know them, was struck with
their grace and air of nobility, and when they were ushered into the
audience-chamber, where Charlemagne was seated on his throne among all
his courtiers, the two young men fell on their knees, and kissed with
emotion the hand he extended to them.
“Who are you, my children?” said the emperor to them in a kind voice,
“and why is it you show so much affection for me?”
“Sire!” replied young Aymon, “we wish to be made knights for your sole
service, and for your service only. We are deeply indebted to you for
kindness in our youth, and if you will confer upon us the honor, we would,
my brother and myself, consecrate to you our entire life.”
“But who art thou?” asked the emperor, who did not recognize them. “No
lord has conducted you to the palace. No peer has presented you. Nobody
seems to know you.”
“Sire!” replied Aymon, “we are the sons of a knight whom you have
honored with your esteem and for whom you have never hidden your
admiration, even when you were enraged with him. Our father had the
misfortune to incur your displeasure for not being willing to submit, when
his honor opposed, and you forced him to defend himself against you and
against the deceitful counsels of perfidious and jealous courtiers. Ah, sire,
in spite of all these trials you placed upon him, our father never ceased to
love you and to bless you. He has also taught us to venerate and cherish
you. Our father is the brave Maugis, who during three years passed his time
in exile to repair the wrongs he incurred by activity and courage so
astonishing as to give his name universal renown.”

At these words the emperor arose, descended from his throne and
embraced the two handsome young men, who had come to place their
young lives under his high protecting care. Said he:
“Your father is one of the noblest and most honorable knights I ever
knew. Strive, both of you, to equal him. I could not offer a better wish for
your welfare.”
The emperor then took pride in presenting the young men to the court.
The etiquette compelled by ceremony being cast aside, the emperor
inquired with great solicitude concerning their father.
“Our father,” replied Yon, “is now old and infirm, and bodily exercise has
become too fatiguing for him. Now, instead of following campaigns, he
lives amid his vassals, to whom he renders justice, gives counsel, and
encourages in their labor; in a word, sire, with him rank is but a distinction.
It is as nothing before intelligence, even if those who possess it are inferior
in position. Unfortunately, our father is very feeble, and we have feared that
he is breaking down.”
“A man like your father should live always,” cried Charlemagne.
“Seigneurs!” continued he, turning to his courtiers, “these sons of Maugis
are my sons; you will so consider them.” Then addressing the young men,
he promised that he would himself arm them as knights; also would give
them additional lands, and as a token of love for their father and
themselves, he accorded benefits to the one hundred other young men who
constituted their suite.
Maugis, after the departure of his sons, employed himself in putting his
affairs in order. He bequeathed Dordogne to Yon, his younger son, and to
Aymon, the eldest, he left Montaubon. Then having assembled his brothers,
he said to them:
“I have suffered many trials in the course of my existence. I have always
been first in advancing our general interests. I will to-day make my
farewell. I have vowed to consecrate to God the few years that remain to
me, and to expiate for my sins by passing my remaining days in an absolute
retreat far from the world.”
His brothers tried to dissuade him, but it was useless. That same day
Maugis took his staff and stole away, making his escape undiscovered from

Montaubon, by means of the same subterranean passage he had used to
escape the wrath of Charlemagne when Montaubon was besieged.
Alone, by himself, with no more cares of state, disembarrassed of the
burden of his renown, Maugis plodded through the country northward,
nourishing himself with herbs and roots and drinking the pure water from
the springs he passed on his way, finding life more pleasant a hundred times
than in the midst of his court. His footsteps were directed toward the
ancient city of Mouzon, in the Ardennes, where he intended to abide for a
time in the old house where he had spent some of his boyhood days under
the tutorship of that wise man of the East, that learned pundit whom his
father had rescued from death in the wars of the Saracens, and from whom
Maugis had drawn the occult powers he had used when driven to the last
resource by the emperor. He hoped here to rest awhile in the society of the
good monks of the great Abbey. He would search for his cousin Renaud,
who, likewise, had retired from the world, to end his days in solitary
meditation and prayer.

CATHEDRAL DOOR, MOUZON.

Maugis spent two years in Mouzon, in the ancient house that had been
his boyhood home. He made diligent inquiry for his cousin Renaud, but
neither the monks nor any one else could tell him anything, except that
some time agone he had been seen passing through the city by the old
Roman road, which led into and through the vast forests of the Ardennes.
So one day Maugis once more took up his staff, and deserting his home in
the ancient city, he too walked far out on the old Roman road until the
forests swallowed him up.
As he made his weary way through the vast solitudes, one day he
approached a hermitage; a strange hope animated him. Had God directed
his steps to the resting place of his cousin Renaud? He searched about

thoroughly, and at last discovered his cousin some distance away in a
solitary place, lying on the moss and absorbed in a book. He came upon his
cousin so quietly that he did not hear him, and he stood and contemplated
him for some time in silence, but suddenly raising his eyes Renaud became
aware of the presence of a stranger. “Can this be Maugis?” he said to
himself, “once so strong and so straight, and now so bent and so feeble, but
a shadow of his former self?” But he soon overcame his incertitude and
sprang up and clasped Maugis in his arms, who said:
“My dear Renaud! what pleasure I have to see you, you little know. We
will never be separated again.”
It was a long time before Renaud recovered from his joy, and though
each was very desirous to live solitary in pursuance of their vows to God,
they finally decided, however, that they would situate themselves so as to
see each other every day.
Maugis then installed himself a short distance away, in a cave under a
rock which he made habitable. From that time no day passed without their
seeing each other. It was the delight of these two brave old warriors, whose
days were numbered, to recall together their deeds in the past, and the many
things they had accomplished in company. Thus, after a life of activity and
turmoil, their isolation seemed peaceful and blessed to them, and they found
that peace which passeth all understanding in their old age, which made
them never regret having quitted the world.
It happened that one day, when Maugis went as usual to the old oak
which served as their rendezvous, Renaud was not there, and after waiting
vainly for a long time, he hurried to his hermitage and there found him
feeble and depressed.
“My dear Maugis,” said Renaud to him, “I am now approaching the end
of my existence. I will soon enjoy eternal repose. I die with only one regret,
and that is, I cannot have you with me in death. That we must at last leave
each other. God is not willing that we should go together, but we do not die,
except from the vengeance of God, until we are no longer useful to
humanity.”
“What are you saying, my dear cousin,” replied Maugis. “Am I not also
useless; am I not old and infirm, and my forces completely disappeared?”

“That is true,” responded Renaud, “but you must remain on earth to obey
the destiny of your Lord. He is always ready to execute His will. Adieu! my
dear Maugis, we shall shortly meet again. I die happy because I am dying in
your arms.”
Renaud hardly spoke these last words when he yielded up his soul.
Maugis then tenderly disposed of his remains in the grave Renaud had
himself prepared, accomplishing this sad ceremony with complete serenity.
After having rendered these last duties to his cousin, Maugis retired to his
hermitage and remained there.
His end was near. It was decreed by God that he should soon follow his
cousin. One day as he was walking on the banks of the river Meuse, near
his hermitage, he heard cries of distress. It was the voices of young women
calling for assistance. Without regarding the infirmities of age, Maugis
hastened in the direction of the cries, and when he arrived at the banks of
the river he was astonished to find a young woman lying there half-fainting,
bound hand and foot; collecting all her resources the swooning girl
indicated the water, and upon turning his eyes in that direction Maugis
perceived a man, who was dragging another young woman by the hair of
her head and was about to cast her into the water. Maugis, at the sight of
this outrage, felt his old-time vigor returning, and hastening to her
assistance, he took his staff in both hands and smote the villain on the head.
The man dodged the blow and escaped a second one by leaping into the
stream, dragging the young woman with him. Maugis hesitated not a
moment, and plunging after him and seizing him by the throat, endeavored
to pull him out of the water, but the man shook himself free, and turned
upon Maugis.
At that moment, such are the strange decrees of fate, the noble Maugis
recognized in the face of that man the features of Pinabel.
“Infamous scoundrel!” said he to him, “not content to have committed
acts of cowardice with men, you must complete your villainy by attacking
women. You shall die this time and you need not count on my clemency.”
Saying this, Maugis seized him firmly and succeeded in forcing him
under the surface of the river, but the fear of death doubled the strength of
Pinabel. Maugis could not disembarrass himself from his enemy, who, in

his desperation, wound himself around Maugis with his arms and legs. It
was in vain that Maugis struck him and tried to force him loose. The
drowning wretch clung to him with the energy of despair. Maugis could not
free himself from his deathlike grip, and the nearer death approached the
firmer became his hold. For a long time the nearly exhausted Maugis
struggled to rid himself of the body of the now drowned man, his
movements impeded by the clinging corpse, which, with the swiftness of
the current, contributed to destroy him. With a supreme effort he raised his
voice to call for help, but he was answered only by the frantic cries of the
two young women.
Little by little his strength diminished, his eyesight failing, and with eyes
closed he heard faintly the prayers of the two frightened girls for the safety
of the man who had so bravely come to their rescue. Then he sank slowly
down to the bottom. He appeared once more at the surface of the water, as if
to protest against meeting the same death as a villain who had committed so
many crimes during his life, and then he once more disappeared, never
again to return to life.
• • • • •
The death of Maugis would have never become known if the two young
girls had not recounted their adventure to some fishermen. They told how
Pinabel, in love with one of them, had surprised them bathing, and had
seized and bound the one to whom he was indifferent in order that he might
more readily accomplish his purpose with the other. They told them,
moreover, that Pinabel, having become an outcast, had placed himself at the
head of a band of malefactors, who recently had captured a château in the
vicinity, killing all the people who inhabited it.
The fishermen searched a long time for the body of Maugis, and finally
recovered it, with the corpse of Pinabel still attached; then they recognized
him as the hermit they had seen in the neighborhood. They laid his remains
out tenderly, and carried them to his hermitage, from which he was finally
interred in the same grave as Renaud.
Never would it have become known just who the religious men were who
lived in the forest had they not found the following inscription upon the
tomb of Renaud, written by Maugis himself:

MAUGIS DE MONTAUBON,
Duc de Aymon.
aux names reverses de son cousin,
R E N A U D , D U C D E B E U V E S.
En Memoire de Leur Amitie.

They also found in the grotto of Maugis the portrait of Yolande. He had
written underneath her name and his own. It was incontestable proof of his
identity.
The news of the combat and its sad ending reached Cologne. Seigneur de
Burie, who had formerly known Maugis and Renaud, visited the hermitage
to assure himself that the tomb contained all that remained of the heroic
Maugis and Renaud, which having done, he fell on his knees and prayed
with fervor. Immediately upon his return he sent the clergy of Cologne to
exhume the precious remains and bring them to Cologne, where they were
deposited in the cathedral with great pomp and ceremony, their bier being
watched by knights continuously while they laid in state.
In the meantime the tidings were sent to Paris. The emperor, on hearing
the sad news, ordered the entire court in mourning, and indeed the
mourning was not a mere outward seeming, for there was sorrow in every
heart.
The sons of Maugis and his brothers were plunged into the most
profound grief. Some days afterward an imposing retinue proceeded to
Cologne and brought with them the remains of the two heroes. When they
had reached the suburbs of Paris they were met by Charlemagne himself,
and escorted into the city. There the most magnificent funeral ceremonies
were held, after the completion of which the Aymon family proceeded with
the two bodies onward to Montaubon, their final resting place, where they
were placed under a magnificent tomb.
To give testimony to his grief and friendship, after the emperor had
accompanied them as far as Orleans, he returned to Paris, and ordered that
the arms and escutcheons of Pinabel be destroyed, and that everything

should be obliterated that was connected with a name which called forth so
much execration.

THE END.

Transcriber’s Notes:
Obvious typographical errors have been silently corrected.
Table of contents added.
Redundant title page removed.

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