pared, but the
youth was banished to St. Omer, a little town on the coast. Here he
spent some years, which would have been dull and very wearisome but for
the kindness of the governor, who not only allowed him to fish and hunt
on receiving his word that he would not try to escape, but gave him his
daughter, the fair Belissande, as his companion, and even consented to a
marriage between them. For, kind though he was, he did not forget that
the captive youth was after all heir to the Danish throne.

Ogier would have been quite content to stay where he was, when suddenly
the emperor summoned him to come to Paris and take part in a war which
had broken out between him and the Saracens, who had landed in Italy.
Unwilling though he was, of course Ogier was forced to obey, and he
speedily won such fame that in a little while Charlemagne declared that
from henceforth he should have in battle the place of honour on the
right hand of the emperor himself. This favour so excited the jealousy
of Charlot, the emperor's son, that he laid many snares for Ogier's
life, but, owing to the gift of the fairy Gloriande, the young man
contrived to escape them all.

On his return to France with the army, after the war was over and the
Saracens had been beaten, he found two pieces of news awaiting him. One
was that his father was dead, and that he was king of Denmark, and the
other was that during his absence a son had been born to him.

Taking leave of the emperor, he chose the swiftest horse he could find
in the stables and rode straight to St. Omer. The boy was by this time
three years old, and promised to be tall and strong like his father.
Already he could mount a pony and use a tiny bow and arrows that had
been made for him, and even could tell the names of some of the battles
his father had won.

But Ogier could not tarry long in the castle of St. Omer. Taking his
wife and son with him, he set out at once for Denmark, and spent several
years in the kingdom making laws and teaching his people many things
that he had learnt in his travels.

After ten years, however, he became weary of this peaceful life, and,
after Belissande died, he felt he could bear it no longer. So, leaving
the crown to his uncle, he returned to France with his son and fought
once more by the side of Charlemagne. This was the life he loved, and it
seemed as if it might have gone on for ever had it not been for the
prince Charlot, who, unhappily, only grew more qu