y." So all the
trumpets in the host sounded a blast; all the valleys and hills
re-echoed with the sound; sore discouraged were the heathen when they
heard it.

"King Charles has come again," they cried; "we are all as dead men.
When he comes he shall not find Roland alive." Then four hundred of
them, the strongest and most valiant knights that were in the army of
the heathen, gathered themselves into one company, and made a yet
fiercer assault on Roland.

Roland saw them coming, and waited for them without fear. So long as
he lived he would not yield himself to the enemy or give place to
them. "Better death than flight," said he, as he mounted his good
steed Veillantif, and rode towards the enemy. And by his side went
Turpin the Archbishop on foot. Then said Roland to Turpin, "I am on
horseback and you are on foot. But let us keep together; never will I
leave you; we two will stand against these heathen dogs. They have
not, I warrant, among them such a sword as Durendal."

"Good," answered the Archbishop. "Shame to the man who does not smite
his hardest. And though this be our last battle, I know well that King
Charles will take ample vengeance for us."

When the heathen saw these two stand together they fell back in fear
and hurled at them spears and darts and javelins without number.
Roland's shield they broke and his hauberk; but him they hurt not;
nevertheless they did him a grievous injury, for they killed his good
steed Veillantif. Thirty wounds did Veillantif receive, and he fell
dead under his master. At last the Archbishop was stricken and Roland
stood alone, for the heathen had fled from his presence.

When Roland saw that the Archbishop was dead, his heart was sorely
troubled in him. Never did he feel a greater sorrow for comrade slain,
save Oliver only. "Charles of France," he said, "come as quickly as
you may! Many a gallant knight have you lost in Roncesvalles. But King
Marsilas, on his part, has lost his army. For one that has fallen on
this side there have fallen full forty on that." So saying he turned
to the Archbishop; he crossed the dead man's hands upon his breast and
said, "I commit thee to the Father's mercy. Never has man served God
with a better will, never since the beginning of the world has there
lived a sturdier champion of the faith. May God be good to you and
give you all good things!"

Now Roland felt that his own death was near at hand. In one hand he
took his horn, and in the ot