o were to go
on the embassy. 'My lords,' he said, 'you will start at once on your
mission to King Charles, and be sure you take olive branches in your
hands, and beg him to have pity on me. Tell him that before a month
has passed over his head I will follow you with a thousand of my
servants, to receive baptism and do him homage. If, besides, he asks
for hostages, they shall be sent.' 'It is well,' said Blancandrin,
'the treaty is good.'

The Emperor Charles was happier than he had ever been in his life. He
had taken Cordova, and thrown down the walls; his war machines had
laid low the towers, and the rich city had been plundered, while every
Saracen who refused to be baptized had been slain. Now he felt he
might rest, and sought the cool of an orchard, where were already
gathered his nephew Roland, with Oliver his comrade, Geoffrey of Anjou
his standard bearer, and many other famous Knights. They lay about on
white carpets doing what they best liked--some played games, chess or
draughts, but these were mostly the old men who were glad to be still:
the young ones fenced and tilted. Under a pine tree, close to a
sweet-briar, a seat of massive gold was placed, and on it sat the
Emperor of the fair country of France, a strong man, with his beard
white as snow. But his rest was short. Soon came the messengers of the
Saracen King, and, descending from their mules, they bowed low before
him.

[Illustration: UNDER A PINE TREE CLOSE TO A SWEET-BRIAR ON A SEAT OF
GOLD SAT--THE KING OF THE FAIR COUNTRY OF FRANCE

Charlemagne]

It was Blancandrin who first spoke, showing with his hands the
presents he had brought with him, and offering that the King would
receive baptism, and do homage for his lands, if only the Emperor
Charles would return with his army into France, 'for,' said
Blancandrin, 'you have been too long in this country.'

When Blancandrin had spoken, the Emperor sat silent with his head
bent, thinking of the words of the Saracen, for never was it his
custom to be hasty in his speech. At length he looked up, and a proud
look was on his face.

'You have said well,' he answered, 'yet King Marsile is my deadly
enemy, and how do I know that I can put my trust in your offers?'

'You will have hostages,' replied the Saracen, 'sons of the highest
nobles, and my own son will be among them. And when you have gone back
to your own palace, my master will follow you on the Feast of St.
Michael, and will be made a Christia