to be your friend. Help me therefore. For see how my
spear is broken and my shield cleft in twain. My hauberk is in pieces,
and my body sorely wounded. I am about to die; but I have sold my life
at a great price."

When Roland heard him cry he set spurs to his horse and galloped to
him. "Walter," said he, "you are a brave warrior and a trustworthy.
Tell me now where are the thousand valiant men whom you took from my
army. They were right good soldiers, and I am in sore need of them."

"They are dead," answered Walter; "you will see them no more. A sore
battle we had with the Saracens yonder on the hills; they had the men
of Canaan there and the men of Armenia and the Giants; there were no
better men in their army than these. We dealt with them so that they
will not boast themselves of this day's work. But it cost us dear; all
the men of France lie dead on the plain, and I am wounded to the
death. And now, Roland, blame me not that I fled; for you are my lord,
and all my trust is in you."

"I blame you not," said Roland, "only as long as you live help me
against the heathen." And as he spake he took his cloak and rent it
into strips and bound up Walter's wounds therewith. This done he and
Walter and the Archbishop set fiercely on the enemy. Five-and-twenty
did Roland slay, and Walter slew six, and the Archbishop five. Three
valiant men of war they were; fast and firm they stood one by the
other; hundreds there were of the heathen, but they dared not come
near to these three valiant champions of France. They stood far off,
and cast at the three spears and darts and javelins and weapons of
every kind. Walter of Hum was slain forthwith; and the Archbishop's
armor was broken, and he wounded, and his horse slain under him.
Nevertheless he lifted himself from the ground, still keeping a good
heart in his breast. "They have not overcome me yet," said he; "as
long as a good soldier lives, he does not yield."

Roland took his horn once more and sounded it, for he would know
whether King Charles were coming. Ah me! it was a feeble blast that he
blew. But the King heard it, and he halted and listened. "My lords!"
said he, "things go ill for us, I doubt not. Today we shall lose, I
fear me much, my brave nephew Roland. I know by the sound of his horn
that he has but a short time to live. Put your horses to their full
speed, if you would come in time to help him, and let a blast be
sounded by every trumpet that there is in the arm