summoned,
the Emperor starts in haste himself for Saxony with ten thousand men.
Baldwin was seated in his tower, looking out upon a league of hostile
tents, complaining to Sebile, who 'comforts him as a worthy lady,'
bidding him trust in his uncle's succour. She is the first to descry
the French host and to point it out to her husband. 'Ah, God!' said
Charles's nephew, 'fair Father Creator, yet will I avenge me of the
pagan people.' He goes down from his palace, and cries to his men, 'Arm
ye, knights! Charles is returned.'

"The besieged prepare at once for a sally. Sebile places the helmet
on her husband's head and kisses him, never to see him more alive.
The enemy are disarmed; three thousand of them are killed by the time
Baldwin cuts his way to his uncle, to whom, as his liege lord, he makes
complaint against the Saxons. The Emperor's answer contains little but
philosophic comfort: 'Fair nephew, so goes war; when your day comes,
know that you will die; your father died, you will not escape. Yonder
are your enemies, of whom you complain; I give you leave, go and strike
them.' Uncle and nephew both perform wonders. But Berard is killed
by Feramor, one of Guiteclin's sons, and the standard which he bore
disappears under him. Baldwin engages Feramor; each severely wounds the
other; the fight is so well contested that Baldwin offers to divide the
land with him if he will make peace. The Saxon spurns the offer, and is
killed.

"But 'Baldwin is wounded in the breast grievously; from thence to the
spur his body is bloody.' Saxons, Lusatians, Hungarians perceive that
his blows lessen and fall slow. 'Montjoie!' he cries many a time,
but the French hear him not. 'When Baldwin sees that he will have no
succour, as a boar he defends himself with his sword.... Who should have
seen the proud countenance of the king, how he bears and defends himself
against the paynim, great pity should surely take his heart.' Struck
with fifteen wounds, his horse killed under him, he offers battle on
foot. They dare not approach, but they fling their swords at him, and
then go and hide beneath a rock. Baldwin, feeling death approaching,
'from the fair eyes of his head begins to weep' for sorrow and rage. He
now addresses an elaborate last prayer to God; but whilst he is on
his knees, looking toward the East, a Saxon comes to cut off his head.
Baldwin, furious, seizes his sword, which had fallen from his hand
on the green grass, and with a last b