ere to die a vile and shameful death."

King Marsil shook with anger and turned pale. In his hand he held an
arrow fledged with gold. Now, springing from his throne, he raised his
arm as if he would strike Ganelon. But the knight laid his hand upon
his sword and drew it half out of the scabbard. "Sword," he cried,
"thou art bright and beautiful; oft have I carried thee at the court
of my King. It shall never be said of me that I died alone in a
foreign land, among fierce foes, ere thou wert dipped in the blood of
their bravest and best."

For a few moments the heathen King and the Christian knight eyed each
other in deep silence. Then the air was filled with shouts. "Part
them, part them!" cried the Saracens.

The noblest of the Saracens rushed between their King and Ganelon. "It
was a foolish trick to raise thy hand against the Christian knight,"
said Marsil's calif, seating him once more upon his throne. "'Twere
well to listen to what he hath to say."

"Sir," said Ganelon proudly, "thinkest thou for all the threats in the
wide world I will be silent and not speak the message which the mighty
Charlemagne sendeth to his mortal enemy? Nay, I would speak, if ye
were all against me." And keeping his right hand still upon the golden
pommel of his sword, with his left he unclasped his cloak of fur and
silk and cast it upon the steps of the throne. There, in his strength
and splendor, he stood defying them all.

"'Tis a noble knight!" cried the heathen in admiration.

Then once more turning to King Marsil, Ganelon gave him the Emperor's
letter. As he broke the seal and read, Marsil's brow grew black with
anger. "Listen, my lords," he cried; "because I slew yonder insolent
Christian knights, the Emperor Charlemagne bids me beware his wrath.
He commands that I shall send unto him as hostage mine uncle the
calif."

"This is some madness of Ganelon!" cried a heathen knight. "He is only
worthy of death. Give him unto me, and I will see that justice is done
upon him." So saying, he laid his hand upon his sword.

Like a flash of lightning Ganelon's good blade Murglies sprang from
its sheath, and with his back against a tree, the Christian knight
prepared to defend himself to the last. But once again the fight was
stopped, and this time Blancandrin led Ganelon away.

Then, walking alone with the King, Blancandrin told of all that he
had done, and of how even upon the way hither, Ganelon had promised
to betray Roland, who w