“You sons of whores! You craven, shameful pack,
You’ll never rule my fiefs or borderlands!
1050 Attack again with fiercer will than that!”
And so they did, those wretches; to a man
They hurled their spears and wyverns and they smashed
The walls again with iron rods and rams.
Count William’s hot temper spat like fat!
“What now,” he cried, “young Gui, my gallant lad?
We’re doomed to die in pain and shame, alas!”
But Gui replied: “Don’t waste what breath you have!
By all the saints in Rome’s Basilica,
I’ll spend my own more meanly while I can!”
1060 By now their spears were blunted, crushed or cracked,
So each of them seized eagerly the axe
Held out to him by Queen Orable’s hand,
And, thus, endowed, ran forward to attack:
Their axes fell on crimson shields and hacked
Away at chests, at faces, chins and chaps,
Till fourteen Moors, then more, were lying flat
Upon the floor in death or from collapse.
No three before had made so fierce a stand!
The Warden watched, till watching drove him mad!
1070 WHEN ARRAGON saw all his soldiers die,
He almost burst with sorrow at the sight!
With ringing voice, he raised his head and cried:
“Count William, where are you, wicked sprite
Of Aymeri, who rules Narbonne in pride?
Before you lose your blood and limbs alike,
Obey my will and you may save your life!
Leave Gloriette and all it has behind,
And go from here in safety and alive.
For, if you stay and won’t obey me, I
1080 Shall raise a blaze around the walls so high
That all of you will perish in its fire!
By great Mahom, I swear I do not lie!”
“Your words are wind!” Count William replied:
“There’s wine in here and bread and corn in piles,
And salted meat and clear and spicy wines.
We’ve helms of green and hauberks shiny bright,
And sturdy swords with silver hilts incised,
Good, heavy shields and lances – and besides,
We’ve ladies here just made for our delight!
1090 I’ll gladly stay until the day I die!
King Louis’ ears will hear of us in time,
My brothers’ too – Bernart, whose beard is white,
And fierce Garin, who rules Anseune in pride,
And strong Beuvon of Commarchis alike,
And young Bertrand, my nephew strong and wise,
Who’s still at Nîmes, in charge of all that’s mine.
Each one of these, as soon as he desires,
Can raise a force of twenty thousand knights.
And when they know the nature of our plight –
1100 Just where we are and how we are and why –
Their noble hearts will drive them to our side
With all the men their mustering can find!
No marble walls will save you from their might,
No splendid halls, however much they shine –
They’ll split them all, one thousand pieces wide!
And how you’ll pay if you should stay behind:
They’ll wring your neck by stringing it on high!”
The Warden heard till hearing drove him wild!
King Pharaon, beside him, spoke his mind:
1110 “My noble lord, you’re wasting precious time:
By great Mahom, what are we, men or mice?
Your father dear, both valorous and wise,
Has left you here to guard his town and wife,
The Pagan fort and Gloriette the fine.
And yet you’ve let three Christian rogues defy
Your regency and kill our kith and kind!
I swear to you, your name will be reviled
If you are slow to drive them out with fire!”
THE REGENT CRIED: “Advise me, by Mahom,
1120 How that can be achieved, King Pharaon!
The tower here’s as solid as a rock,
And Gloriette is stone from base to top!
Though every man alive from here to Laon
Should smite its bricks, they’d never break its bond!
And where could coal burn any hole, or lodge?
There are no beams or wooden seams to rot!
Bravado turned the key that freed its locks!
We’ll never oust these outlaws, by the gods!”
“KING PHARAON, my lord,” the Regent cried,
1130 “For Mahom’s sake, on whom we both rely,
Advise me now with counsel that is wise,
For Gloriette’s impossible to strike:
It’s set in rock and built of rock alike!
Though every man from here to Valois heights
Should hit its bricks, they’d never split it wide.
And where on it could fiery coal ignite?
There are no beams or wooden seams to fire!
Bravado turned the key that flung it wide!
We’ll never oust these outlaws from inside!”
1140 At this, a Moor called Orkanor arrived,
Whose beard was black, although his hair was white!
In Pagan need his acumen was prized.
With ringing tones he hailed the Regent thrice:
“Prince Arragon, attend to my advice!
But tell me first you’ll make it worth my while,
Should I reveal how William the knight
May, without fail, be held in jail tonight!”
“I will indeed!” Prince Arragon replied:
“I’ll give to you ten sumpters loaded high
1150 With Spanish gold if what you say is right!”
Said Orkanor: “Then swear without a lie
To keep your word, and I shall give you mine
To see it done, whatever it requires!”
“I give my word, and give it with delight.
You’ll have in full, whenever you desire,
The promised gold!” Prince Arragon replied.
Said Orkanor: “I give my word alike.”
SAID ORKANOR: “Fine lord, by good Mahomet,
There is a way to capture him, I promise!
1160 This glowing hall, I know, is more than solid,
With marble raised upon a granite bottom.
But Griffany of Aumarie, who plotted
Its grand design, planned cunningly to stock it
With passages beyond the common knowledge!
Beneath the ground I’ve found a tunnel crossing
Between the towers, whose entrance is a drop-stone.
So take yourself and fifty score along it!
While fifty more distract the French with volleys
From front and rear, your force can set upon them.
1170 Show William the wage of mortal folly!”
Said Arragon: “I will, by good Apollo!
And you, I swear, shall earn immortal profit!”
WHEN ARRAGON was told the ancient secret
About the way that lay there underneath him,
It thrilled his heart and set his pulses beating!
In helmets laced, he placed a thousand heathens,
While, front and rear, a thousand more repeated
Their fierce assault upon the French between them.
His party left with hasty steps and eager,
1180 Not stopping till the
y’d reached the vault and breached it.
With lanterns lit and candlelight to lead them,
The hidden Moors crept up upon our heroes,
Who never knew that they were even near them
Until they sensed that somebody had reached them.
Count William himself was first to see them:
“By Jesus Christ,” he cried, “our great Redeemer!
They’ll slay us now or pay us every evil!”
Said Guielin: “So help me, blessed Jesus,
I swear to you the lovely queen’s deceived us!
1190 A curse, I say, on heathens, male and female!”
COUNT WILLIAM heard Gloriette invaded
By haughty Moors, their voices wrought with raging,
And then he saw their helms and hauberks blazing:
“By God above,” he cried, “the Ever Faithful,
They’ll slay us now or evilly repay us!”
Said Guielin: “So help me, blessed Saviour,
I swear to you the lovely queen’s betrayed us!
A curse, I say, on heathen lords and ladies!
Today it seems, we three shall meet our Maker –
We have no peers or clansmen here to save us –
1200 But while we may, let’s show what we are made of!”
When this was said, our hero held his blade up.
With hate in heart, he dealt his first assailant
A backhand stroke that cleft him to his navel.
On seeing this, the Pagans, in amazement,
Held back at first, then stormed ahead to take him.
In self-defence, and honour’s cause, how bravely
Our gallant knights swung mighty blows against them!
The charge was great, but their response was greater –
They never fell till force of numbers made them.
1210 No fight before was finished half as bravely –
In self-defence they slaughtered thirty Pagans!
What use was that? They couldn’t have escaped them –
The Saracens, made up of many nations
From Africa, Arabia and Asia,
Stampeded them, arrested them and chained them.
The villains swore that vengeance would be taken
That very day for their humiliation.
5. How Orable saved William from death
SO WILLIAM was captured by deception,
1220 Sir Gilbert too, and Guielin his nephew.
In heavy hands the wicked Pagans held them
And swore an oath that promised speedy vengeance:
Within the town they ordered twenty tenants
To dig a trench both deep and wide for spreading
With tinder-wood and poles of timber, ready
To set ablaze and burn to death the Frenchmen.
But when the queen could see what they intended
She called at once on Arragon her stepson:
“My friend,” she said, “give me these foreign felons!
1230 In Gloriette I have a sombre cellar
Where loathsome toads will feed on them, together
With slimy snakes, their gorges filled with venom.”
“My Lady Queen,” Prince Arragon protested,
“Our present woe was started by your error,
Or madness, when you armed the French against us!
Mahomet curse the fool who’d let you meddle!”
On hearing this, Orable welled with temper:
“You harlot’s son,” she yelled, “you Prince of devils!
By good Mahom, whose chosen faith I cherish,
1240 I truly wish no other lords were present:
I’d punch your nose for daring to offend me!
I order you: be gone from here directly!
If you delay, I swear you will regret it!”
With rising gall, she cursed him, as he left her:
“Go, pestilence! Arrest the Frenchmen, pending
My lord’s return from Valdun town, attended
By Desramed and Golias his henchmen!
Let him and them enjoy revenge at leisure!”
“To that, agreed!” said Arragon her stepson,
1250 And took all three to throw them in his cellar,
Sir William, and Gilbert and his nephew.
Let’s leave them there, till time and I are ready –
For I have more about the Moors to tell you –
But never fret! I won’t forget the Frenchmen!
PRINCE ARRAGON was not prepared to wait.
He summoned forth his envoys straightaway
And sent them off without the least delay.
They reached the Rhône without a stop or stay
Then boarded ship, a galleon of state
1260 That Maldun of Nubia owned and sailed.
From fore to aft the craft bore silken drapes
That sheltered all on board from wind or rain.
With anchors weighed and rudder set they braved
The open sea and rowed while under sail,
To leave the town and reach the coast in haste.
They made the most of roving winds that day
That drove them straight to Almeria’s bay.
When sails were furled and anchors dropped again,
They mounted horse and galloped off in haste.
1270 They never stopped until at last they raced
Inside the town where Teebo had remained.
Dismounting there beneath the leafy shade
Of olive-trees, they reached the hall of state,
And found their lord, his courtiers and slaves.
They greeted him in Pagan wise and way:
“May good Mahom, who rules forever, save
And keep Teebo, the flower of his race!
Your noble son, of gallant force and face,
Beseeches you, through us, to bring him aid,
1280 For he has caught the son of that old knave
Lord Aymeri, who rules Narbonne today!
Young William, disguised, devised a way
To get inside your wealthy town and take
It, as with Nîmes – and, what is more, he aims
To woo your wife away from your embrace!
His evil plan was foiled, Mahom be praised,
But not before he had for seven days
Held Gloriette and her against our rage!
If we’d not found a vault beneath its gate,
1290 Whose entrance is a drop-stone deftly laid
Inside our fort, we’d never have reclaimed
Your lovely wife for you to hold again!
But she and we were rescued by our faith
In Lord Mahom! Sir William is chained
Inside a cell from which there’s no escape!
Come, punish him as cruelly as you crave!”
On hearing this, old Teebo laughed and hailed
The knights and men surrounding him that day:
“To arms,” he roared “and then to horse, I say!”
1300 Not one was loath – they leapt to both in haste,
Good Spanish steel and Magyar destriers.
When Teebo left from Africa again,
The Moors he took were Almerian slaves
And Syrian and Slavic renegades,
Whose van alone held sixty thousand blades!
They never stopped until they reached the bay,
And very soon they’d loaded ships of trade
With wine and meat, with biscuit and with grain.
When all was in, including them, they raised
1310 The sails aloft and, with the anchors weighed,
They soug
ht and caught the roving winds to brave
The open sea and speed upon their way.
Their bugles blew, their horns began to play,
Their bears to roar, their dogs to bark and bay,
Their mules to bray, their destriers to neigh,
Their hawks to cry, on perches and encaged.
Their din at sea was heard a league away
For seven days and nights; but on the eighth,
Before they’d come to Port Orange again,
1320 Its Pagan lord would suffer loss and pain
The likes of which he’d never known, I’d say.
For he would lose and nevermore regain
His splendid town and splendid wife the same!
SIR WILLIAM was locked away between
Sir Gilbert and his gallant nephew Gui:
“Dear God,” he cried, “the King of Love, it seems
We’re doomed to die in agony indeed!
King Louis’ court knows nothing of our need,
Nor do the rest of my brave family:
1330 White-haired Bernart, Sir Garin of Anseune,
And bold Beuvon, the lord of Commarchis ,
And Bertrand too, my nephew fine and fierce,
Who, when we left, remained behind at Nîmes
With men galore, a thousand score at least!
What use is that? We need their service here!”
The answer wrought from handsome Gui was brief:
“But surely not, my lord, when love is near?
Why don’t you ask your pretty Pagan queen
‘For sake of love’ to slake her lover’s need?”
1340 Said William: “By Heaven, if you keep
On mocking me, you’ll kill what’s left of me!”
SIR WILLIAM was seething with despite.
Inside the cell both he and Gui alike,
And Gilbert too, bewailed their sorry plight.
And while they did, in sorrow out of mind,
Orable came, and when she looked inside
And saw the men, she said to them: ‘Sir knights,
Attend me well, for I would speak my mind!
The Pagans’ mood against you runs so high
1350 That you will hang tomorrow, or tonight!”
“There’s nothing we can do!” young Gui replied:
“What remedy, fine lady, can you find
To set us free and get us three outside?
If you succeed, I’ll be your man for life
And serve your will at any place or time!
Most noble queen, have mercy on our lives!”
Said William: “In truth, she must have lied,
Heroines of the French Epic Page 6