, his hand still in the
iron grip of the King, fearlessly and proudly gazed back into the eyes
of Charlemagne.

"No one sent me," he said. "My mother lay very cold and still and
would not speak, and she had said my father would come back no more,
so there was none but me to seek her food. Give me the wine, I say!
for she is so cold and so very, very white"--and the child struggled
to free his hand that still held the cup.

"Who art thou, then?" asked Charlemagne.

"My name is Roland--let me go, I pray thee," and again he tried to
drag himself free. And Charlemagne mockingly said:

"Roland, I fear thy father and mother have taught thee to be a clever
thief."

Then anger blazed in Roland's eyes.

"My mother is a lady of high degree!" he cried, "and I am her page,
her cupbearer, her knight! I do not speak false words!"--and he would
have struck the King for very rage.

Then Charlemagne turned to his lords and asked--"Who is this child?"

And one made answer: "He is the son of thy sister Bertha, and of Milon
the knight, who was drowned these three weeks agone."

Then the heart of Charlemagne grew heavy with remorse when he found
that his sister had so nearly died of want, and from that day she
never knew aught but kindness and tenderness from him, while Roland
was dear to him as his own child.

He was a Douzepere now, and when the envoys from Saragossa had
delivered their message to Charlemagne, he was one of those who helped
to do them honour at a great feast that was held for them in a
pavilion raised in the orchard.

Early in the morning Charlemagne heard mass, and then, on his golden
throne under the great pine, he sat and took counsel with his
Douzeperes. Not one of them trusted Marsile, but Ganelon, who had
married the widowed Bertha and who had a jealous hatred for his
step-son--so beloved by his mother, so loved and honoured by the
King--was ever ready to oppose the counsel of Roland. Thus did he
persuade Charlemagne to send a messenger to Marsile, commanding him to
deliver up the keys of Saragossa, in all haste to become a Christian,
and in person to come and, with all humility, pay homage as vassal to
Charlemagne.

Then arose the question as to which of the peers should bear the
arrogant message. Roland, ever greedy for the post of danger,
impetuously asked that he might be chosen. But Charlemagne would have
neither him nor his dear friend and fellow-knight, Oliver--he who was
the Jonathan of Rola