spurring their horses
that they might speed the more. And the Saracens, on their part, came
forward with a good heart. Thus did the Frenchmen and the heathen meet
in the shock of battle.

Full many of the heathen warriors fell that day. Not one of the Twelve
Peers of France but slew his man. But of all none bore himself so
valiantly as Roland. Many a blow did he deal to the enemy with his
mighty spear, and when the spear was shivered in his hand, fifteen
warriors having fallen before it, then he seized his good sword
Durendal, and smote man after man to the ground. Red was he with the
blood of his enemies, red was his hauberk, red his arms, red his
shoulders, aye, and the neck of his horse. Not one of the Twelve
lingered in the rear, or was slow to strike, but Count Roland was the
bravest of the brave. "Well done, sons of France!" cried Turpin the
Archbishop, when he saw them lay on in such sort.

Next to Roland for valor and hardihood came Oliver, his companion.
Many a heathen warrior did he slay, till at last his spear was
shivered in his hand. "What are you doing, comrade?" cried Roland,
when he was aware of the mishap. "A man wants no staff in such a
battle as this. 'Tis the steel and nothing else that he must have.
Where is your sword Hautclere, with its hilt of gold and its pommel of
crystal?"

"On my word," said Oliver, "I have not had time to draw it; I was so
busy with striking." But as he spake he drew the good sword from its
scabbard, and smote a heathen knight, Justin of the Iron Valley. A
mighty blow it was, cleaving the man in twain down to his saddle--aye,
and the saddle itself with its adorning of gold and jewels, and the
very backbone also of the steed whereon he rode, so that horse and man
fell dead together on the plains. "Well done!" cried Roland; "you are
a true brother of mine. 'Tis such strokes as this that make the King
love us."

Nevertheless, for all the valor of Roland and his fellows the battle
went hard with the men of France. Many lances were shivered, many
flags torn, and many gallant youths cut off in their prime. Never more
would they see mother and wife. It was an ill deed that the traitor
Ganelon wrought when he sold his fellows to King Marsilas!

And now there befell a new trouble. King Almaris, with a great host
of heathen, coming by an unknown way, fell upon the rear of the host
where there was another pass. Fiercely did the noble Walter that kept
the same charge the newcomer