Section 12: Laisses 270-289
|
| | That Emperour is now returned to Aix. | |
| | The felon Guene, all in his iron chains | |
| | Is in that town, before the King's Palace; | |
| | Those serfs have bound him, fast upon his stake, | |
| | In deer-hide thongs his hands they've helpless made, | |
| | With clubs and whips they trounce him well and baste: | |
| | He has deserved not any better fate; | |
| | In bitter grief his trial there he awaits. | |
|
|
| | Written it is, and in an ancient geste | |
| | How Charles called from many lands his men, | |
| | Assembled them at Aix, in his Chapelle. | |
| | Holy that day, for some chief feast was held, | |
| | Saint Silvester's that baron's, many tell. | |
| | Thereon began the trial and defence | |
| | Of Guenelun, who had the treason spelt. | |
| | Before himself the Emperour has him led. | |
| AOI. | |
|
|
| | "Lords and barons," Charles the King doth speak, | |
| | "Of Guenelun judge what the right may be! | |
| | He was in th'host, even in Spain with me; | |
| | There of my Franks a thousand score did steal, | |
| | And my nephew, whom never more you'll see, | |
| | And Oliver, in 's pride and courtesy, | |
| | And, wealth to gain, betrayed the dozen peers." | |
| | "Felon be I," said Guenes, "aught to conceal! | |
| | He did from me much gold and wealth forfeit, | |
| | Whence to destroy and slay him did I seek; | |
| | But treason, no; I vow there's not the least." | |
| | Answer the Franks: "Take counsel now must we." | |
|
|
| | So Guenelun, before the King there, stood; | |
| | Lusty his limbs, his face of gentle hue; | |
| | Were he loyal, right baron-like he'd looked. | |
| | He saw those Franks, and all who'ld judge his doom, | |
| | And by his side his thirty kinsmen knew. | |
| | After, he cried aloud; his voice was full: | |
| | "For th' Love of God, listen to me, baruns! | |
| | I was in th' host, beside our Emperour, | |
| | Service I did him there in faith and truth. | |
| | Hatred of me had Rollant, his nephew; | |
| | So he decreed death for me and dolour. | |
| | Message I bare to king Marsiliun; | |
| | By my cunning I held myself secure. | |
| | To that fighter Rollant my challenge threw, | |
| | To Oliver, and all their comrades too; | |
| | Charles heard that, and his noble baruns. | |
| | Vengeance I gat, but there's no treason proved." | |
| | Answered the Franks: "Now go we to the moot. | |
|
|
| | When Guenes sees, his great cause is beginning, | |
| | Thirty he has around him of his kinsmen, | |
| | There's one of them to whom the others listen, | |
| | 'Tis Pinabel, who in Sorence castle liveth; | |
| | Well can he speak, soundly his reasons giving, | |
| | A good vassal, whose arm to fight is stiffened. | |
| | Says to him Guenes: "In you my faith is fixed. | |
| | Save me this day from death, also from prison." | |
| | Says Pinabel: "Straightway you'll be delivered. | |
| | Is there one Frank, that you to hang committeth? | |
| | Let the Emperour but once together bring us, | |
| | With my steel brand he shall be smartly chidden." | |
| | Guenes the count kneels at his feet to kiss them. | |
|
|
| | To th' counsel go those of Bavier and Saxe, | |
| | Normans also, with Poitevins and Franks; | |
| | Enough there are of Tudese and Germans. | |
| | Those of Alverne the greatest court'sy have, | |
| | From Pinabel most quietly draw back. | |
| | Says each to each: "'Twere well to let it stand. | |
| | Leave we this cause, and of the King demand | |
| | That he cry quits with Guenes for this act; | |
| | With love and faith he'll serve him after that. | |
| | Since he is dead, no more ye'll see Rollanz, | |
| | Nor any wealth nor gold may win him back. | |
| | Most foolish then is he, would do combat." | |
| | There is but one agrees not to their plan; | |
| | Tierri, brother to Don Geifreit, 's that man. | |
| AOI. | |
|
|
| | Then his barons, returning to Carlun, | |
| | Say to their King: "Sire, we beseech of you | |
| | That you cry quits with county Guenelun, | |
| | So he may serve you still in love and truth; | |
| | Nay let him live, so noble a man 's he proved. | |
| | Rollant is dead, no longer in our view, | |
| | Nor for no wealth may we his life renew." | |
| | Then says the King: "You're felons all of you!" | |
| AOI. | |
|
|
| | When Charles saw that all of them did fail, | |
| | Deep down he bowed his head and all his face | |
| | For th' grief he had, caitiff himself proclaimed. | |
| | One of his knights, Tierris, before him came, | |
| | Gefrei's brother, that Duke of Anjou famed; | |
| | Lean were his limbs, and lengthy and delicate, | |
| | Black was his hair and somewhat brown his face; | |
| | Was not too small, and yet was hardly great; | |
| | And courteously to the Emperour he spake: | |
| | "Fair' Lord and King, do not yourself dismay! | |
| | You know that I have served you many ways: | |
| | By my ancestors should I this cause maintain. | |
| | And if Rollant was forfeited to Guenes | |
| | Still your service to him full warrant gave. | |
| | Felon is Guene, since th' hour that he betrayed, | |
| | And, towards you, is perjured and ashamed: | |
| | Wherefore I judge that he be hanged and slain, | |
| | His carcass flung to th' dogs beside the way, | |
| | As a felon who felony did make. | |
| | But, has he a friend that would dispute my claim | |
| | With this my sword which I have girt in place | |
| | My judgement will I warrant every way." | |
| | Answer the Franks: "Now very well you spake." | |
|
|
| | Before the King is come now Pinabel; | |
| | Great is he, strong, vassalous and nimble; | |
| | Who bears his blow has no more time to dwell: | |
| | Says to him: "Sire, on you this cause depends; | |
| | Command therefore this noise be made an end. | |
| | See Tierri here, who hath his judgment dealt; | |
| | I cry him false, and will the cause contest." | |
| | His deer-hide glove in the King's hand he's left. | |
| | Says the Emperour: "Good pledges must I get." | |
| | Thirty kinsmen offer their loyal pledge. | |
| | "I'll do the same for you," the King has said; | |
| | Until the right be shewn, bids guard them well. | |
| AOI. | |
|
|
| | When Tierri sees that battle shall come after, | |
| | His right hand glove he offereth to Chares. | |
| | That Emperour by way of hostage guards it; | |
| | Four benches then upon the place he marshals | |
| | Where sit them down champions of either party. | |
| | They're chos'n aright, as the others' judgement cast them; | |
| | Oger the Dane between them made the parley. | |
| | Next they demand their horses and their armour. | |
| AOI. | |
|
|
| | For battle, now, ready you might them see, | |
| | They're well confessed, absolved, from sin set free; | |
| | Masses they've heard, Communion received, | |
| | Rich offerings to those minsters they leave. | |
| | Before Carlun now both the two appear: | |
| | They have their spurs, are fastened on their feet, | |
| | And, light and strong, their hauberks brightly gleam; | |
| | Upon their heads they've laced their helmets clear, | |
| | And girt on swords, with pure gold hilted each; | |
| | And from their necks hang down their quartered shields; | |
| | In their right hands they grasp their trenchant spears. | |
| | At last they mount on their swift coursing steeds. | |
| | Five score thousand chevaliers therefor weep, | |
| | For Rollant's sake pity for Tierri feel. | |
| | God knows full well which way the end shall be. | |
|
|
| | Down under Aix there is a pasture large | |
| | Which for the fight of th' two barons is marked. | |
| | Proof men are these, and of great vassalage, | |
| | And their horses, unwearied, gallop fast; | |
| | They spur them well, the reins aside they cast, | |
| | With virtue great, to strike each other, dart; | |
| | All of their shields shatter and rend apart. | |
| | Their hauberks tear; the girths asunder start, | |
| | The saddles slip, and fall upon the grass. | |
| | Five score thousand weep, who that sight regard. | |
| AOI. | |
|
|
| | Upon the ground are fallen both the knights; | |
| | Nimbly enough upon their feet they rise. | |
| | Nimble and strong is Pinabels, and light. | |
| | Each the other seeks; horses are out of mind, | |
| | But with those swords whose hilts with gold are lined | |
| | Upon those helms of steel they beat and strike: | |
| | Great are the blows, those helmets to divide. | |
| | The chevaliers of France do much repine. | |
| | "O God!" says Charles, "Make plain to us the right!" | |
|
|
| | Says Pinabel "Tierri, I pray thee, yield: | |
| | I'll be thy man, in love and fealty; | |
| | For the pleasure my wealth I'll give to thee; | |
| | But make the King with Guenelun agree." | |
| | Answers Tierri: "Such counsel's not for me. | |
| | Pure felon I, if e'er I that concede! | |
| | God shall this day the right shew, us between!" | |
| AOI. | |
|
|
| | Then said Tierri "Bold art thou, Pinabel, | |
| | Thou'rt great and strong, with body finely bred; | |
| | For vassalage thy peers esteem thee well: | |
| | Of this battle let us now make an end! | |
| | With Charlemagne I soon will have thee friends; | |
| | To Guenelun such justice shall be dealt | |
| | Day shall not dawn but men of it will tell." | |
| | "Please the Lord God, not so!" said Pinabel. | |
| | "I would sustain the cause of my kindred | |
| | No mortal man is there from whom I've fled; | |
| | Rather I'ld die than hear reproaches said." | |
| | Then with their swords began to strike again | |
| | Upon those helms that were with gold begemmed | |
| | Into the sky the bright sparks rained and fell. | |
| | It cannot be that they be sundered, | |
| | Nor make an end, without one man be dead. | |
| AOI. | |
|
|
| | He's very proof, Pinabel of Sorence, | |
| | Tierri he strikes, on 's helmet of Provence, | |
| | Leaps such a spark, the grass is kindled thence; | |
| | Of his steel brand the point he then presents, | |
| | On Tierri's brow the helmet has he wrenched | |
| | So down his face its broken halves descend; | |
| | And his right cheek in flowing blood is drenched; | |
| | And his hauberk, over his belly, rent. | |
| | God's his warrant, Who death from him prevents. | |
| AOI. | |
|
|
| | Sees Tierris then 'that in the face he's struck, | |
| | On grassy field runs clear his flowing blood; | |
| | Strikes Pinabel on 's helmet brown and rough, | |
| | To the nose-piece he's broken it and cut, | |
| | And from his head scatters his brains in th' dust; | |
| | Brandishes him on th' sword, till dead he's flung. | |
| | Upon that blow is all the battle won. | |
| | Franks cry aloud: "God hath great virtue done. | |
| | It is proved right that Guenelun be hung. | |
| | And those his kin, that in his cause are come." | |
| AOI. | |
|
|
| | Now that Tierris the battle fairly wins, | |
| | That Emperour Charles is come to him; | |
| | Forty barons are in his following. | |
| | Naimes the Duke, Oger that Danish Prince, | |
| | Geifrei d'Anjou, Willalme of Blaive therewith. | |
| | Tierri, the King takes in his arms to kiss; | |
| | And wipes his face with his great marten-skins; | |
| | He lays them down, and others then they bring; | |
| | The chevaliers most sweetly disarm him; | |
| | An Arab mule they've brought, whereon he sits. | |
| | With baronage and joy they bring him in. | |
| | They come to Aix, halt and dismount therein. | |
| | The punishment of the others then begins. | |
|
|
| | His counts and Dukes then calls to him Carlun: | |
| | "With these I guard, advise what shall be done. | |
| | Hither they came because of Guenelun; | |
| | For Pinabel, as pledges gave them up." | |
| | Answer the Franks: "Shall not of them live one." | |
| | The King commands his provost then, Basbrun: | |
| | "Go hang them all on th' tree of cursed wood! | |
| | Nay, by this beard, whose hairs are white enough, | |
| | If one escape, to death and shame thou'rt struck!" | |
| | He answers him: "How could I act, save thus?" | |
| | With an hundred serjeants by force they come; | |
| | Thirty of them there are, that straight are hung. | |
| | Who betrays man, himself and 's friends undoes. | |
| AOI. | |
|
|
| | Then turned away the Baivers and Germans | |
| | And Poitevins and Bretons and Normans. | |
| | Fore all the rest, 'twas voted by the Franks | |
| | That Guenes die with marvellous great pangs; | |
| | So to lead forth four stallions they bade; | |
| | After, they bound his feet and both his hands; | |
| | Those steeds were swift, and of a temper mad; | |
| | Which, by their heads, led forward four sejeants | |
| | Towards a stream that flowed amid that land. | |
| | Sones fell Gue into perdition black; | |
| | All his sinews were strained until they snapped, | |
| | And all the limbs were from his body dragged. | |
| | On the green grass his clear blood gushed and ran. | |
| | Guenes is dead, a felon recreant. | |
| | Who betrays man, need make no boast of that. | |
|
|
|