 Verses 273 to 291 of the Song of Roland. So Gwendolyn, before the king there, stood, lusty his limbs, his face of gentle hue. Were he loyal, right barren like he'd look? He saw those ranks, and all who'd judge his doom, and by his side his thirty kinsmen knew. After he cried aloud, his voice was full. For the love of God, listen to me, barrens! I was in the host beside our emperor, service I did him there in faith and truth. Should have me had Roland his nephew. So he decreed death for me and Dola. Message I bear to King Marsylion, by my cunning I held myself secure. To that fighter Roland my challenge threw, to Oliver and all their comrades too. Charles heard that, and his noble barrens. Vengeance I get, but there's no treason proved. Answered the Franks. Now go read to the Moot. When Gawain sees his great cause is beginning, thirty he has around him of his kinsmen. There's one of them to whom the others listen, Tispinabelle, who in Soren's castle, liveeth. Well can he speak, soundly his reasons giving? A good vassal, whose arm to fight, is stiffened, says to him Gawain's. In you my faith is fixed, save me this day from death, also from prison. Tispinabelle, straight where you'll be delivered. Is there one Frank that you to hang commiteth? Let the Emperor, but once together bring us, with my steel brand he shall be smartly chidden. Gawain's the countneels at his feet to kiss them. To the council go those of Bévière and Saxe, Normans also with Pottaver and Franks. Enough there are of two D's and Germans, those of Alvern the greatest curtsy have, Tispinabelle most quietly draw back, says each to each. Twer well to let it stand, leave we this cause, and of the king demand, that he cry quit with Gawain's for this act. With love and faith he'll serve him after that. Since he is dead no more you'll see Rollands, nor any wealth nor gold may win him back. Most foolish then is he would do combat. There is but one agrees not to their plan. Teary, brother to Dongay Frate's that man. Then his barons returning to Calhoun say to their king, Sire we beseech of you, that you cry quit with County Guenolun, so he may serve you still in love and truth, nay let him live so noble a man's he proved, Rollands is dead no longer in our view, nor for no wealth may we his life renew. Then says the king, your felons all of you. When Charles saw that all of them did fail, deep down he bowed his head and all his face. For the grief he had, Catef himself proclaimed. One of his knights, Teary, before him came. Geoffrey's brother, that Duke of Anjou, famed. Lean were his limbs, and lengthy and delicate. Black was his hair, and somewhat brown his face. Was not too small, and yet was hardly great, and courteously to the emperor he spake. Fair Lord and King, do not yourself dismay. You know that I have served you many ways. By my ancestors should I this cause maintain. And if Rolland was forfeited to Guen, still your service to him full warrant gave. Felon is Guen, since they are that he betrayed, and towards you is perjured and ashamed. Wherefore I judge that he be hanged and slain, his carcass flung to the dogs beside the way. As a felon who felony did make. But has he a friend that would dispute my claim, with this my sword which I have girt in place, my judgment will I warrant every way? Answer the francs. Now very well you spake. Before the king has come now Pinnabell, great is he, strong, vassalous, and nimble, who bears his blow has no more time to dwell, says to him, Sire, I knew this cause depends, command therefore this noise be made an end. See Thierry here, who hath his judgment dealt, I cry him false and will the cause contest. His dear-eyed glove in the king's hand he's left, says the emperor. Good pledges must I get. Thirty kinsmen offer their loyal pledge. I'll do the same for you, the king has said, until the right be shown bids guard them well. Thierry sees that battle shall come after, his right hand glove he offereth to Charles. The emperor, by way of hostage, guards it. Four benches then upon the place he marshals, where sit them down champions of either party. They're chosen aright, as the other's judgment cast them, ogre the dain between them made the parley. Next they demand their horses and their armour. For battle now ready you might seen them. They're well confessed, absolved, from sin set free. Masses they've heard, communion received, which offerings to those minsters they leave. Before Calwn now both the two appear. They have their spurs, are fastened on their feet. And light and strong their hoburks brightly gleam. Upon their heads they've laced their helmets clear, and girt on swords, with pure gold hilted each. And from their necks hang down their quartered shields. In their right hands they grasp their trenchant spears. At last they mount on their swift-coursing steeds, five-scall thousand Chevaliers therefor weep, for Rollant's sake pity for Thierry feel. God knows full well which way the end shall be. Down under X there is a pasture large, which for the fight of the two barons is marked. Proofmen are these and of great vassalage, and their horses unwearied gallop fast. They spur them well, the rains aside they cast, with virtue great to strike each other, dart. All of their shields shatter and rend apart, their hoburks tear, the girths asunder start. The saddles slip and fall upon the grass, five-scall thousand weep, who that sight regard. Upon the ground are fallen both the knights, nimbly enough upon their feet they rise, nimble and strong as pinnabell and light. Each the other seeks, horses are out of mind. But with those swords whose hilts with gold are lined, upon those helms of steel they beat and strike, great are the blows, those helmets to divide, the Chevaliers of France do much repine. Oh, God! says Charles, make plain to us the right. Says pinnabell, Thierry I pray thee, yield, I'll be thy man in love and fealty. For the pleasure my wealth I'll give to thee, but make the king with Guenolun agree. Answers, Thierry, such counsel's not for me, pure felon I, if ere I that concede, God shall this day the right show us between. Then said Thierry, Bold art thou pinnabell, thou art great and strong, with body finely bred, for vassalage thy peers esteem thee well. Of this battle let us now make an end, with Charlemagne I soon will have thee friends. To Guenolun such justice shall be dealt, day shall not dawn, but men of it will tell. Please the Lord God not so, said pinnabell, I would sustain the cause of my kindred, no mortal man is there from whom I fled, rather I'll die than Thierry Prochers said. Then with their swords began to strike again, upon those helms that were with gold be gemmed, into the sky the bright sparks rained and fell. It cannot be that they be sundered, nor make an end, without one man be dead. He's very proof, pinnabell of Sorence, Thierry he strikes on's helmet of province, leaps such a spark the grasses kindled thence, of his steel brand the point he then presents. On Thierry's brow the helmet has he wrenched, so down his face its broken halves descend. And his right cheek in flowing blood is drenched, and his hoburk over his belly rent. God's his warrant, who death from him prevents. Sees Thierry then, that in the face he struck, on grassy field runs clear his flowing blood, strikes pinnabell on's helmet brown and rough, to the nose-piece he's broken it and cut, and from his head scatters his brains in the dust, brandishes him on the sword till dead he's flung. On that blow is all the battle won. Franks cry aloud, God hath great virtue done, it is proved right that Gwennalon be hung, and those his kin, that in his cause, are come. Now that Thierry the battle fairly wins, that Emperor Charles is come to him, forty barons are in his following. Names the duke, ogre that Danish Prince, Geoffrey Dongeau, will arm off-blave therewith. Thierry the king takes in his arms to kiss, and wipes his face with his great martin's skins. He lays them down, and others then they bring. The Chevaliers most sweetly disarm him. An Arab mule they've wrought, whereon he sits. With baronage and joy they bring him in. They come to ex, halt and dismount therein. The punishment of the others then begins. Prince Counts and dukes then calls to him Carlon. With these I guard, advise what shall be done, hither they came because of Gwennalon, for Pinnabell, as pledges gave them up. Answer the Franks, shall not of them live one. The king commands his provost then, Basbrun, go hang them all on the tree of cursed wood. Nay by this beard whose hairs are white enough, if one escape to death and shame thou outstruck. He answers him, how could I act save thus? With an hundred sergeants by force they come, thirty of them there are that straight are hung. Who betrays man himself and his friends undoes. Then turned away the beavours and Germans, and Pratavan and Britons and Normans. For all the rest was voted by the Franks, that Gwenn's die with marvellous great pangs, so to lead forth forced aliens they bade. After they bound his feet and both his hands, those steeds were swift and of a temperament, which by their heads led forward four sergeants, towards a stream that flowed amid that land. Sones fell grey into perdition black, all his sinews were strained until they snapped, and all the limbs were from his body dragged, on the green grass his clear blood gushed and ran. Gwenn's is dead, a felon-recreant. Who betrays man need make no boast of that. When the Emperor had made his whole vengeance, he called to him the bishops out of France, those of Bavière and also the Germans. A dame free-born lies captive in my hands, so off she's heard sermons and reprimands, she would fear God and christening demands, baptise her then so God her soul may have. They answer him, sponsors the right demands, dames of estate and long inheritance. The Bards at Ex great companies attract. There they baptised the Queen of Sarazans, and found for her the name of Julianne. Christian is she, by very cognisance. When the Emperor, his justice hath achieved, his mighty wroths abated from its heat, and Bramimund has christening received. Passes the day, the darkness is grown deep, and now that King in his vaulted chamber sleeps. Saint Gabriel is come from God and speaks. Summon the hosts, Charles, of thine empire, go thou by force into the land of Bavière. King Vivian thou sucker there, at Imphi, in the city which Pagans have besieged. The Christians there implore thee, and besiege. At loathe to go, that Emperor was he. God said the King, my life is hard indeed. Tears filled his eyes, he tore his snowy beard. So ends the tale which Durold hath conceived. End of verses 273 to 291. End of the song of Roland.