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Bulfinch's Mythology by Thomas Bulfinch

Part 17 out of 19

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his throat. If my nephew has slain Charlot it was in his own
defence, and after having seen his brother wounded by him, and
also in ignorance that his adversary was the prince. Though I am a
son of the Church," added the good Abbot, "I forget not that I am
a knight by birth. I offer to prove with my body the lie upon
Amaury, if he dares sustain it, and I shall feel that I am doing a
better work to punish a disloyal traitor, than to sing lauds and

Huon to this time had kept silent, amazed at the black calumny of
Amaury; but now he stepped forth, and, addressing Amaury, said:
"Traitor! darest thou maintain in arms the lie thou hast uttered?"
Amaury, a knight of great prowess, despising the youth and slight
figure of Huon, hesitated not to offer his glove, which Huon
seized; then, turning again to the peers, he said: "I pray you let
the combat be allowed me, for never was there a more legitimate
cause." The Duke Namo and the rest, deciding that the question
should be remitted to the judgment of Heaven, the combat was
ordained, to which Charlemagne unwillingly consented. The young
Duke was restored to the charge of Duke Namo, who the next morning
invested him with the honors of knighthood, and gave him armor of
proof, with a white shield. The Abbot of Cluny, delighted to find
in his nephew sentiments worthy of his birth, embraced him, gave
him his blessing, and hastened to the church of St. Germains to
pray for him, while the officers of the king prepared the lists
for the combat.

The battle was long and obstinate. The address and agility of Huon
enabled him to avoid the terrible blows which the ferocious Amaury
aimed at him. But Huon had more than once drawn blood from his
antagonist. The effect began to be perceived in the failing
strength of the traitor; at last he threw himself from his horse,
and kneeling, begged for mercy. "Spare me," he said, "and I will
confess all. Aid me to rise, and lead me to Charlemagne." The
brave and loyal Huon, at these words, put his sword under his left
arm, and stretched out his right to raise the prostrate man, who
seized the opportunity to give him a thrust in the side. The
hauberk of Huon resisted the blow, and he was wounded but
slightly. Transported with rage at this act of baseness, he forgot
how necessary for his complete acquittal the confession of Amaury
was, and without delay dealt him the fatal blow.

Duke Namo and the other peers approached, had the body of Amaury
dragged forth from the lists, and conducted Huon to Charlemagne.
The Emperor, however, listening to nothing but his resentment and
grief for the death of his son, refused to be satisfied; and under
the plea that Huon had not succeeded in making his accuser retract
his charge seemed resolved to confiscate his estates and to banish
him forever from France. It was not till after long entreaties on
the part of Duke Namo and the rest that he consented to grant Huon
his pardon, under conditions which he should impose.

Huon approached, and knelt before the Emperor, rendered his
homage, and cried him mercy for the involuntary killing of his
son. Charlemagne would not receive the hands of Huon in his own,
but touched him with his sceptre, saying, "I receive thy homage,
and pardon thee the death of my son, but only on one condition.
You shall go immediately to the court of the Sultan Gaudisso; you
shall present yourself before him as he sits at meat; you shall
cut off the head of the most illustrious guest whom you shall find
sitting nearest to him; you shall kiss three times on the mouth
the fair princess, his daughter, and you shall demand of the
Sultan, as token of tribute to me, a handful of the white hair of
his beard, and four grinders from his mouth."

These conditions caused a murmur from all the assembly. "What!"
said the Abbot of Cluny; "slaughter a Saracen prince without first
offering him baptism?" "The second condition is not so hard," said
the young peers, "but the demand that Huon is bound to make of the
old Sultan is very uncivil, and will be hard to obtain."

The Emperor's obstinacy when he had once resolved upon a thing is
well known. To the courage of Huon nothing seemed impossible. "I
accept the conditions," said he, silencing the intercessions of
the old Duke of Bavaria; "my liege, I accept my pardon at this
price. I go to execute your commands, as your vassal and a peer of

The Duke Namo and Abbot of Cluny, being unable to obtain any
relaxation of the sentence passed by Charlemagne, led forth the
young Duke, who determined to set out at once on his expedition.
All that the good Abbot could obtain of him was, that he should
prepare for this perilous undertaking by going first to Rome, to
pay his homage to the Pope, who was the brother of the Duchess
Alice, Huon's mother, and from him demand absolution and his
blessing. Huon promised it, and forthwith set out on his way to


HUON, having traversed the Apennines and Italy, arrived at the
environs of Rome, where, laying aside his armor, he assumed the
dress of a pilgrim. In this attire he presented himself before the
Pope, and not till after he had made a full confession of his sins
did he announce himself as his nephew. "Ah! my dear nephew,"
exclaimed the Holy Father, "what harder penance could I impose
than the Emperor has already done? Go in peace, my son," he added,
absolving him, "I go to intercede for you with the Most High."
Then he led his nephew into his palace, and introduced him to all
the Cardinals and Princes of Rome as the Duke of Guienne, son of
the Duchess Alice, his sister.

Huon, at setting out, had made a vow not to stop more than three
days in a place. The Holy Father took advantage of this time to
inspire him with zeal for the glory of Christianity, and with
confidence in the protection of the Most High. He advised him to
embark for Palestine, to visit the Holy Sepulchre, and to depart
thence for the interior of Asia.

Loaded with the blessings of the Holy Father, Huon, obeying his
counsels, embarked for Palestine, arrived, and visited with the
greatest reverence the holy places. He then departed, and took his
way toward the east.

But, ignorant of the country and of the language, he lost himself
in a forest, and remained three days without seeing a human
creature, living on honey and wild fruits which he found on the
trees. The third day, seeking a passage through a rocky defile, he
beheld a man in tattered clothing, whose beard and hair covered
his breast and shoulders. This man stopped on seeing him, observed
him, and recognized the arms and bearing of a French knight. He
immediately approached, and exclaimed, in the language of the
South of France, "God be praised! Do I indeed behold a chevalier
of my own country, after fifteen years passed in this desert
without seeing the face of a fellow-countryman?"

Huon, to gratify him still more, unlaced his helmet, and came
towards him with a smiling countenance. The other regarded him
with more surprise than at first. "Good Heaven!" he exclaimed,
"was there ever such a resemblance? Ah, noble sir," he added,
"tell me, I beseech you, of what country and race you come?" "I
require," replied Huon, "before telling you mine, that you first
reveal your own; let it suffice you at present to know that I am a
Christian, and that in Guienne I was born." "Ah! Heaven grant that
my eyes and my heart do not deceive me," exclaimed the unknown;
"my name is Sherasmin; I am brother to Guire, the Mayor of
Bordeaux. I was taken prisoner in the battle where my dear and
illustrious master, Sevinus, lost his life. For three years I
endured the miseries of slavery; at length I broke my chains and
escaped to this desert, where I have sustained myself in solitude
ever since. Your features recall to me my beloved sovereign, in
whose service I was from my infancy till his death." Huon made no
reply but by embracing the old man, with tears in his eyes. Then
Sherasmin learned that his arms enfolded the son of the Duke
Sevinus. He led him to his cabin, and spread before him the dry
fruits and honey which formed his only aliment.

Huon recounted his adventures to Sherasmin, who was moved to tears
at the recital. He then consulted him on means of conducting his
enterprise. Sherasmin hesitated not to confess that success seemed
impossible; nevertheless he swore a solemn oath never to abandon
him. The Saracen language, which he was master of, would be
serviceable to them when they should leave the desert, and mingle
with men.

They took the route of the Red Sea, and entered Arabia. Their way
lay through a region which Sherasmin described as full of terrors.
It was inhabited by Oberon, King of the Fairies, who made captive
such knights as were rash enough to penetrate into it, and
transformed them into Hobgoblins. It was possible to avoid this
district at the expense of somewhat lengthening their route; but
no dangers could deter Huon of Bordeaux; and the brave Sherasmin,
who had now resumed the armor of a knight, reluctantly consented
to share with him the dangers of the shorter route.

They entered a wood, and arrived at a spot whence alleys branched
off in various directions. One of them seemed to be terminated by
a superb palace, whose gilded roofs were adorned with brilliant
weathercocks covered with diamonds. A superb chariot issued from
the gate of the palace, and drove toward Huon and his companion,
as if to meet them half-way. The prince saw no one in the chariot
but a child apparently about five years old, very beautiful, and
clad in a robe which glittered with precious stones. At the sight
of him, Sherasmin's terror was extreme. He seized the reins of
Huon's horse, and turned him about, hurrying the prince away, and
assuring him that they were lost if they stopped to parley with
the mischievous dwarf, who, though he appeared a child, was full
of years and of treachery. Huon was sorry to lose sight of the
beautiful dwarf, whose aspect had nothing in it to alarm; yet he
followed his friend, who urged on his horse with all possible
speed. Presently a storm began to roar through the forest, the
daylight grew dim, and they found their way with difficulty. From
time to time they seemed to hear an infantine voice, which said,
"Stop, Duke Huon; listen to me: it is in vain you fly me!"

Sherasmin only fled the faster, and stopped not until he had
reached the gate of a monastery of monks and nuns, the two
communities of which were assembled at that time in a religious
procession. Sherasmin, feeling safe from the malice of the dwarf
in the presence of so many holy persons and the sacred banners,
stopped to ask an asylum, and made Huon dismount also. But at that
moment they were joined by the dwarf, who blew a blast upon an
ivory horn which hung from his neck. Immediately the good
Sherasmin, in spite of himself, began to dance like a young
collegian, and seizing the hand of an aged nun, who felt as if it
would be her death, they footed it briskly over the grass, and
were imitated by all the other monks and nuns, mingled together,
forming the strangest dancing-party ever beheld. Huron alone felt
no disposition to dance; but he came near dying of laughter at
seeing the ridiculous postures and leaps of the others.

The dwarf, approaching Huon, said, in a sweet voice, and in Huon's
own language, "Duke of Guienne, why do you shun me? I conjure you,
in Heaven's name, speak to me." Huon, hearing himself addressed in
this serious manner, and knowing that no evil spirit would dare to
use the holy name in aid of his schemes, replied, "Sir, whoever
you are, I am ready to hear and answer you." "Huon, my friend,"
continued the dwarf, "I always loved your race, and you have been
dear to me ever since your birth. The gracious state of conscience
in which you were when you entered my wood has protected you from
all enchantments, even if I had intended to practise any upon you.
If these monks, these nuns, and even your friend Sherasmin, had
had a conscience as pure as yours, my horn would not have set them
dancing; but where is the monk or the nun who can always be deaf
to the voice of the tempter, and Sherasmin in the desert has often
doubted the power of Providence."

At these words Huon saw the dancers overcome with exertion. He
begged mercy for them, the dwarf granted it, and the effect of the
horn ceased at once; the nuns got rid of their partners, smoothed
their dresses, and hastened to resume their places in the
procession. Sherasmin, overcome with heat, panting, and unable to
stand on his legs, threw himself upon the grass, and began, "Did
not I tell you"--He was going on in an angry tone, but the dwarf,
approaching, said, "Sherasmin, why have you murmured against
Providence? Why have you thought evil of me? You deserved this
light punishment; but I know you to be good and loyal; I mean to
show myself your friend, as you shall soon see." At these words he
presented him a rich goblet. "Make the sign of the cross on this
cup," said he, "and then believe that I hold my power from the God
you adore, whose faithful servant I am, as well as you." Sherasmin
obeyed, and on the instant the cup was filled with delicious wine,
a draught of which restored vigor to his limbs, and made him feel
young again. Overcome with gratitude, he threw himself on his
knees, but the dwarf raised him, and bade him sit beside him, and
thus commenced his history:

"Julius Caesar, going by sea to join his army, was driven by a
storm to take shelter in the island of Celea, where dwelt the
fairy Glorianda. From this renowned pair I draw my birth. I am the
inheritor of that which was most admirable in each of my parents:
my father's heroic qualities, and my mother's beauty and magic
art. But a malicious sister of my mother's, in revenge for some
slight offence, touched me with her wand when I was only five
years old, and forbade me to grow any bigger; and my mother, with
all her power, was unable to annul the sentence. I have thus
continued infantile in appearance, though full of years and
experience. The power which I derive from my mother I use
sometimes for my own diversion, but always to promote justice and
to reward virtue. I am able and willing to assist you, Duke of
Guienne, for I know the errand on which you come hither. I presage
for you, if you follow my counsels, complete success; and the
beautiful Clarimunda for a wife."

When he had thus spoken he presented to Huon the precious and
useful cup, which had the faculty of filling itself when a good
man took it in his hand. He gave him also his beautiful horn of
ivory, saying to him, "Huon, when you sound this gently, you will
make the hearers dance, as you have seen; but if you sound it
forcibly, fear not that I shall hear it, though at a hundred
leagues' distance, and will fly to your relief; but be careful not
to sound it in that way, unless upon the most urgent occasion."

Oberon directed Huon what course he should take to reach the
country of the Sultan Gaudisso. "You will encounter great perils,"
said he, "before arriving there, and I fear me," he added, with
tears in his eyes, "that you will not in everything obey my
directions, and in that case you will suffer much calamity." Then
he embraced Huon and Sherasmin, and left them.

Huon and his follower travelled many days through the desert
before they reached any inhabited place, and all this while the
wonderful cup sustained them, furnishing them not only wine, but
food also. At last they came to a great city. As day was
declining, they entered its suburbs, and Sherasmin, who spoke the
Saracen language perfectly, inquired for an inn where they could
pass the night. A person who appeared to be one of the principal
inhabitants, seeing two strangers of respectable appearance making
this inquiry, stepped forward and begged them to accept the
shelter of his mansion. They entered, and their host did the
honors of his abode with a politeness which they were astonished
to see in a Saracen. He had them served with coffee and sherbet,
and all was conducted with great decorum, till one of the servants
awkwardly overturned a cup of hot coffee on the host's legs, when
he started up, exclaiming in very good Gascon, "Blood and thunder!
you blockhead, you deserve to be thrown over the mosque!"

Huon could not help laughing to see the vivacity and the language
of his country thus break out unawares. The host, who had no idea
that his guests understood his words, was astonished when Huon
addressed him in the dialect of his country. Immediately
confidence was established between them; especially when the
domestics had retired. The host, seeing that he was discovered,
and that the two pretended Saracens were from the borders of the
Garonne, embraced them, and disclosed that he was a Christian.
Huon, who had learned prudence from the advice of Oberon, to test
his host's sincerity, drew from his robe the cup which the Fairy-
king had given him, and presented it empty to the host. "A fair
cup," said he, "but I should like it better if it was full."
Immediately it was so. The host, astonished, dared not put it to
his lips. "Drink boldly, my dear fellow-countryman," said Huon;
"your truth is proved by this cup, which only fills itself in the
hands of an honest man." The host did not hesitate longer; the cup
passed freely from hand to hand; their mutual cordiality increased
as it passed, and each recounted his adventures. Those of Huon
redoubled his host's respect; for he recognized in him his
legitimate sovereign: while the host's narrative was in these

"My name is Floriac; this great and strong city, you will hear
with surprise and grief, is governed by a brother of Duke Sevinus,
and your uncle. You have no doubt heard that a young brother of
the Duke of Guienne was stolen away from the sea-shore, with his
companions, by some corsairs. I was then his page, and we were
carried by those corsairs to Barbary, where we were sold for
slaves. The Barbary prince sent us as part of the tribute which he
yearly paid to his sovereign, the Sultan Gaudisso. Your uncle, who
had been somewhat puffed up by the flattery of his attendants,
thought to increase his importance with his new master by telling
him his rank. The Sultan, who, like a true Mussulman, detested all
Christian princes, exerted himself from that moment to bring him
over to the Saracen faith. He succeeded but too well. Your uncle,
seduced by the arts of the Santons, and by the pleasures and
indulgences which the Sultan allowed him, committed the horrid
crime of apostasy; he renounced his baptism, and embraced
Mahometanism. Gaudisso then loaded him with honors, made him
espouse one of his nieces, and sent him to reign over this city
and adjoining country. Your uncle preserved for me the same
friendship which he had had when a boy; but all his caresses and
efforts could not make me renounce my faith. Perhaps he respected
me in his heart for my resistance to his persuasions, perhaps he
had hopes of inducing me in time to imitate him. He made me
accompany him to this city, of which he was master, he gave me his
confidence, and permits me to keep in my service some Christians,
whom I protect for the sake of their faith."

"Ah!" exclaimed Huon, "take me to this guilty uncle. A prince of
the house of Guienne, must he not blush at the cowardly
abandonment of the faith of his fathers?"

"Alas!" replied Floriac, "I fear he will neither be sensible of
shame at your reproaches, nor of pleasure at the sight of a nephew
so worthy of his lineage. Brutified by sensuality, jealous of his
power, which he often exercises with cruelty, he will more
probably restrain you by force or put you to death."

"Be it so," said the brave and fervent Huon, "I could not die in a
better cause; and I demand of you to conduct me to him to-morrow,
after having told him of my arrival and my birth." Floriac still
objected, but Huon would take no denial, and he promised

Next morning Floriac waited upon the Governor and told him of the
arrival of his nephew, Huon of Bordeaux; and of the intention of
the prince to present himself at his court that very day. The
Governor, surprised, did not immediately answer; though he at once
made up his mind what to do. He knew that Floriac loved Christians
and the princes of his native land too well to aid in any treason
to one of them; he therefore feigned great pleasure at hearing of
the arrival of the eldest born of his family at his court. He
immediately sent Floriac to find him; he caused his palace to be
put in festal array, his divan to be assembled, and after giving
some secret orders, went himself to meet his nephew, whom he
introduced under his proper name and title to all the great
officers of his court.

Huon burned with indignation at seeing his uncle with forehead
encircled with a rich turban, surmounted with a crescent of
precious stones. His natural candor made him receive with pain the
embraces which the treacherous Governor lavished upon him.
Meanwhile the hope of finding a suitable moment to reproach him
for his apostasy made him submit to those honors which his uncle
caused to be rendered to him. The Governor evaded with address the
chance of being alone with Huon and spent all the morning in
taking him through his gardens and palace. At last, when the hour
of dinner approached, and the Governor took him by the hand to
lead him into the dining-hall, Huon seized the opportunity and
said to him in a low voice, "O my uncle! O Prince, brother of the
Duke Sevinus! in what condition have I the grief and shame of
seeing you!" The Governor pretended to be moved, pressed his hand,
and whispered in his ear, "Silence! my dear nephew; to-morrow
morning I will hear you fully."

Huon, comforted a little by these words, took his seat at the
table by the side of the Governor. The Mufti, some Cadis, Agas,
and Santons, filled the other places. Sherasmin sat down with
them; but Floriac, who would not lose sight of his guests,
remained standing, and passed in and out to observe what was going
on within the palace. He soon perceived a number of armed men
gliding through the passages and antechambers connected with the
dining-hall. He was about to enter to give his guests notice of
what he had seen when he heard a violent noise and commotion in
the hall. The cause was this.

Huon and Sherasmin were well enough suited with the first course
and ate with good appetite; but the people of their country not
being accustomed to drink only water at their meals, Huon and
Sherasmin looked at one another, not very well pleased at such a
regimen. Huon laughed outright at the impatience of Sherasmin, but
soon, experiencing the same want himself, he drew forth Oberon's
cup and made the sign of the cross. The cup filled and he drank it
off, and handed it to Sherasmin, who followed his example. The
Governor and his officers, seeing this abhorred sign, contracted
their brows and sat in silent consternation. Huon pretended not to
observe it, and having filled the cup again handed it to his
uncle, saying, "Pray, join us, dear uncle; it is excellent
Bordeaux wine, the drink that will be to you like mother's milk."
The Governor, who often drank in secret with his own favorite
Sultanas the wines of Greece and Shiraz, never in public drank
anything but water. He had not for a long time tasted the
excellent wines of his native land; he was sorely tempted to drink
what was now handed to him, it looked so bright in the cup,
outshining the gold itself. He stretched forth his hand, took the
brimming goblet, and raised it to his lips, when immediately it
dried up and disappeared. Huon and Sherasmin, like Gascons as they
were, laughed at his astonishment. "Christian dogs!" he exclaimed,
"do you dare to insult me at my own table? But I will soon be
revenged." At these words he threw the cup at the head of his
nephew, who caught it with his left hand, while with the other he
snatched the turban, with its crescent, from the Governor's head
and threw it on the floor. All the Saracens started up from table,
with loud outcries, and prepared to avenge the insult. Huon and
Sherasmin put themselves on their defence, and met with their
swords the scimitars directed against them. At this moment the
doors of the hall opened and a crowd of soldiers and armed eunuchs
rushed in, who joined in the attack upon Huon and Sherasmin. The
Prince and his followers took refuge on a broad shelf or side-
board, where they kept at bay the crowd of assailants, making the
most forward of them smart for their audacity. But more troops
came pressing in and the brave Huon, inspired by the wine of
Bordeaux, and not angry enough to lose his relish for a joke, blew
a gentle note on his horn, and no sooner was it heard than it
quelled the rage of the combatants and set them to dancing. Huon
and Sherasmin, no longer attacked, looked down from their elevated
position on a scene the most singular and amusing. Very soon the
Sultanas, hearing the sound of the dance and finding their guards
withdrawn, came into the hall and mixed with the dancers. The
favorite Sultana seized upon a young Santon, who performed jumps
two feet high; but soon the long dresses of this couple got
intermingled and threw them down. The Santon's beard was caught in
the Sultana's necklace, and they could not disentangle them. The
Governor by no means approved this familiarity, and took two steps
forward to get at the Santon, but he stumbled over a prostrate
Dervise and measured his length on the floor. The dancing
continued till the strength of the performers was exhausted, and
they fell, one after the other, and lay helpless. The Governor at
length made signs to Huon that he would yield everything if he
would but allow him to rest. The bargain was ratified; the
Governor allowed Huon and Sherasmin to depart on their way, and
even gave them a ring which would procure them safe passage
through his country and access to the Sultan Gaudisso. The two
friends hastened to avail themselves of this favorable turn, and
taking leave of Floriac, pursued their journey.


HUON had seen many beauties at his mother's court, but his heart
had never been touched with love. Honor had been his mistress, and
in pursuit of that he had never found time to give a thought to
softer cares. Strange that a heart so insensible should first be
touched by something so unsubstantial as a dream; but so it was.

The day after the adventure with his uncle night overtook the
travellers as they passed through a forest. A grotto offered them
shelter from the night dews. The magic cup supplied their evening
meal; for such was its virtue that it afforded not only wine, but
more solid fare when desired. Fatigue soon threw them into
profound repose. Lulled by the murmur of the foliage, and
breathing the fragrance of the flowers, Huon dreamed that a lady
more beautiful than he had ever before seen hung over him and
imprinted a kiss upon his lips. As he stretched out his arms to
embrace her a sudden gust of wind swept her away.

Huon awoke in an agony of regret. A few moments sufficed to afford
some consolation in showing him that what had passed was but a
dream; but his perplexity and sadness could not escape the notice
of Sherasmin. Huon hesitated not to inform his faithful follower
of the reason of his pensiveness; and got nothing in return but
his rallyings for allowing himself to be disturbed by such a
cause. He recommended a draught from the fairy goblet, and Huon
tried it with good effect.

At early dawn they resumed their way. They travelled till high
noon, but said little to one another. Huon was musing on his
dream, and Sherasmin's thoughts flew back to his early days on the
banks of the flowery Garonne.

On a sudden they were startled by the cry of distress, and turning
an angle of the wood, came where a knight hard pressed was
fighting with a furious lion. The knight's horse lay dead, and it
seemed as if another moment would end the combat, for terror and
fatigue had quite disabled the knight for further resistance. He
fell, and the lion's paw was raised over him, when a blow from
Huon's sword turned the monster's rage upon a new enemy. His roar
shook the forest, and he crouched in act to spring, when, with the
rapidity of lightning, Huon plunged his sword into his side. He
rolled over on the plain in the agonies of death.

They raised the knight from the ground, and Sherasmin hastened to
offer him a draught from the fairy cup. The wine sparkled to the
brim, and the warrior put forth his lips to quaff it, but it
shrunk away, and did not even wet his lips. He dashed the goblet
angrily on the ground, with an exclamation of resentment. This
incident did not tend to make either party more acceptable to the
other; and what followed was worse. For when Huon said, "Sir
knight, thank God for your deliverance,"--"Thank Mahomet, rather,
yourself," said he, "for he has led you this day to render service
to no less a personage than the Prince of Hyrcania."

At the sound of this blasphemy Huon drew his sword and turned upon
the miscreant, who, little disposed to encounter the prowess of
which he had so lately seen proof, betook himself to flight. He
ran to Huon's horse, and lightly vaulting on his back, clapped
spurs to his side, and galloped out of sight.

The adventure was vexatious, yet there was no remedy. The prince
and Sherasmin continued their journey with the aid of the
remaining horse as they best might. At length, as evening set in,
they descried the pinnacles and towers of a great city full before
them, which they knew to be the famous city of Bagdad.

They were well-nigh exhausted with fatigue when they arrived at
its precincts, and in the darkness, not knowing what course to
take, were glad to meet an aged woman, who, in reply to their
inquiries, offered them such accommodations as her cottage could
supply. They thankfully accepted the offer, and entered the low
door. The good dame busily prepared the best fare her stores
supplied,--milk, figs, and peaches,--deeply regretting that the
bleak winds had nipped her almond-trees.

Sir Huon thought he had never in his life tasted any fare so good.
The old lady talked while her guests ate. She doubted not, she
said, they had come to be present at the great feast in honor of
the marriage of the Sultan's daughter, which was to take place on
the morrow. They asked who the bridegroom was to be, and the old
lady answered, "The Prince of Hyrcania," but added, "Our princess
hates him, and would rather wed a dragon than him." "How know you
that?" asked Huon; and the dame informed him that she had it from
the princess herself, who was her foster-child. Huon inquired the
reason of the princess's aversion; and the woman pleased to find
her chat excite so much interest, replied that it was all in
consequence of a dream. "A dream!" exclaimed Huon. "Yes! a dream.
She dreamed that she was a hind, and that the Prince, as a hunter,
was pursuing her, and had almost overtaken her, when a beautiful
dwarf appeared in view, drawn in a golden car, having by his side
a young man of yellow hair and fair complexion, like one from a
foreign land. She dreamed that the car stopped where she stood,
and that, having resumed her own form, she was about to ascend it,
when suddenly it faded from her view, and with it the dwarf and
the fair-haired youth. But from her heart that vision did not
fade, and from that time her affianced bridegroom, the Hyrcanian
prince, had become odious to her sight. Yet the Sultan, her
father, by no means regarding such a cause as sufficient to
prevent the marriage, had named the morrow as the time when it
should be solemnized, in presence of his court and many princes of
the neighboring countries, whom the fame of the princess's beauty
and the bridegroom's splendor had brought to the scene."

We may suppose this conversation woke a tumult of thoughts in the
breast of Huon. Was it not clear that Providence led him on, and
cleared the way for his happy success? Sleep did not early visit
the eyes of Huon that night; but, with the sanguine temper of
youth, he indulged his fancy in imagining the sequel of his
strange experience.

The next day, which he could not but regard as the decisive day of
his fate, he prepared to deliver the message of Charlemagne. Clad
in his armor, fortified with his ivory horn and his ring, he
reached the palace of Gaudisso when the guests were assembled at
the banquet. As he approached the gate a voice called on all true
believers to enter; and Huon, the brave and faithful Huon, in his
impatience passed in under that false pretention. He had no sooner
passed the barrier than he felt ashamed of his baseness, and was
overwhelmed with regret. To make amends for his fault he ran
forward to the second gate, and cried to the porter, "Dog of a
misbeliever, I command you in the name of Him who died on the
cross, open to me!" The points of a hundred weapons immediately
opposed his passage. Huon then remembered for the first time the
ring he had received from his uncle, the Governor. He produced it,
and demanded to be led to the Sultan's presence. The officer of
the guard recognized the ring, made a respectful obeisance, and
allowed him free entrance. In the same way he passed the other
doors to the rich saloon where the great Sultan was at dinner with
his tributary princes. At sight of the ring the chief attendant
led Huon to the head of the hall, and introduced him to the Sultan
and his princes as the ambassador of Charlemagne. A seat was
provided for him near the royal party.

The Prince of Hyrcania, the same whom Huon had rescued from the
lion, and who was the destined bridegroom of the beautiful
Clarimunda, sat on the Sultan's right hand, and the princess
herself on his left. It chanced that Huon found himself near the
seat of the princess, and hardly were the ceremonies of reception
over before he made haste to fulfill the commands of Charlemagne
by imprinting a kiss upon her rosy lips, and after that a second,
not by command, but by good will. The Prince of Hyrcania cried
out, "Audacious infidel! take the reward of thy insolence!" and
aimed a blow at Huon, which, if it had reached him, would have
brought his embassy to a speedy termination. But the ingrate
failed of his aim, and Huon punished his blasphemy and ingratitude
at once by a blow which severed his head from his body.

So suddenly had all this happened that no hand had been raised to
arrest it; but now Gaudisso cried out, "Seize the murderer!" Huon
was hemmed in on all sides, but his redoubtable sword kept the
crowd of courtiers at bay. But he saw new combatants enter, and
could not hope to maintain his ground against so many. He
recollected his horn, and raising it to his lips, blew a blast
almost as loud as that of Roland at Roncesvalles. It was in vain.
Oberon heard it; but the sin of which Huon had been guilty in
bearing, though but for a moment, the character of a believer in
the false prophet, had put it out of Oberon's power to help him.
Huon, finding himself deserted, and conscious of the cause, lost
his strength and energy, was seized, loaded with chains, and
plunged into a dungeon.

His life was spared for the time, merely that he might be reserved
for a more painful death. The Sultan meant that, after being made
to feel all the torments of hunger and despair, he should be
flayed alive.

But an enchanter more ancient and more powerful than Oberon
himself interested himself for the brave Huon. The enchanter was
Love. The Princess Clarimunda learned with horror the fate to
which the young prince was destined. By the aid of her governante
she gained over the keeper of the prison, and went herself to
lighten the chains of her beloved. It was her hand that removed
his fetters, from her he received supplies of food to sustain a
life which he devoted from thenceforth wholly to her. After the
most tender explanations the princess departed, promising to
repeat her visit on the morrow.

The next day she came according to promise, and again brought
supplies of food. These visits were continued during a whole
month. Huon was too good a son of the Church to forget that the
amiable princess was a Saracen, and he availed himself of these
interviews to instruct her in the true faith. How easy it is to
believe the truth when uttered by the lips of those we love!
Clarimunda ere long professed her entire belief in the Christian
doctrines, and desired to be baptized.

Meanwhile the Sultan had repeatedly inquired of the jailer how his
prisoner bore the pains of famine, and learned to his surprise
that he was not yet much reduced thereby. On his repeating the
inquiry, after a short interval, the keeper replied that the
prisoner had died suddenly, and had been buried in the cavern. The
Sultan could only regret that he had not sooner ordered the
execution of the sentence.

While these things were going on the faithful Sherasmin, who had
not accompanied Huon in his last adventure, but had learned by
common rumor the result of it, came to the court in hopes of doing
something for the rescue of his master. He presented himself to
the Sultan as Solario, his nephew. Guadisso received him with
kindness, and all the courtiers loaded him with attentions. He
soon found means to inform himself how the Princess regarded the
brave but unfortunate Huon, and having made himself known to her,
confidence was soon established between them. Clarimunda readily
consented to assist in the escape of Huon, and to quit with him
her father's court to repair to that of Charlemagne. Their united
efforts had nearly perfected their arrangement, a vessel was
secretly prepared, and all things in forwardness for the flight,
when an unlooked-for obstacle presented itself. Huon himself
positively refused to go leaving the orders of Charlemagne

Sherasmin was in despair. Bitterly he complained of the fickleness
and cruelty of Oberon in withdrawing his aid at the very crisis
when it was most necessary. Earnestly he urged every argument to
satisfy the prince that he had done enough for honor, and could
not be held bound to achieve impossibilities. But all was of no
avail, and he knew not which way to turn, when one of those events
occurred which are so frequent under Turkish despotisms. A courier
arrived at the court of the Sultan, bearing the ring of his
sovereign, the mighty Agrapard, Caliph of Arabia, and bringing the
bow-string for the neck of Gaudisso. No reason was assigned; none
but the pleasure of the Caliph is ever required in such cases; but
it was suspected that the bearer of the bow-string had persuaded
the Caliph that Gaudisso, whose rapacity was well known, had
accumulated immense treasures, which he had not duly shared with
his sovereign, and thus had obtained an order to supersede him in
his Emirship.

The body of Gaudisso would have been cast out a prey to dogs and
vultures, had not Sherasmin, under the character of nephew of the
deceased, been permitted to receive it, and give it decent burial,
which he did, but not till he had taken possession of the beard
and grinders, agreeably to the orders of Charlemagne.

No obstacle now stood in the way of the lovers and their faithful
follower in returning to France. They sailed, taking Rome in their
way, where the Holy Father himself blessed the union of his
nephew, Duke Huon of Bordeaux, with the Princess Clarimunda.

Soon afterward they arrived in France, where Huon laid his
trophies at the feet of Charlemagne, and, being restored to the
favor of the Emperor, hastened to present himself and his bride to
the Duchess, his mother, and to the faithful liegemen of his
province of Guienne and his city of Bordeaux, where the pair were
received with transports of joy.


OGIER, the Dane, was the son of Geoffrey, who wrested Denmark from
the Pagans, and reigned the first Christian king of that country.
When Ogier was born, and before he was baptized, six ladies of
ravishing beauty appeared all at once in the chamber of the
infant. They encircled him, and she who appeared the eldest took
him in her arms, kissed him, and laid her hand upon his heart. "I
give you," said she, "to be the bravest warrior of your times."
She delivered the infant to her sister, who said, "I give you
abundant opportunities to display your valor." "Sister," said the
third lady, "you have given him a dangerous boon; I give him that
he shall never be vanquished." The fourth sister added, as she
laid her hand upon his eyes and his mouth, "I give you the gift of
pleasing." The fifth said, "Lest all these gifts serve only to
betray, I give you sensibility to return the love you inspire."
Then spoke Morgana, the youngest and handsomest of the group.
"Charming creature, I claim you for my own; and I give you not to
die till you shall have come to pay me a visit in my isle of
Avalon." Then she kissed the child and departed with her sisters.

After this the king had the child carried to the font and baptized
with the name of Ogier.

In his education nothing was neglected to elevate him to the
standard of a perfect knight, and render him accomplished in all
the arts necessary to make him a hero.

He had hardly reached the age of sixteen years when Charlemagne,
whose power was established over all the sovereigns of his time,
recollected that Geoffroy, Ogier's father, had omitted to render
the homage due to him as Emperor, and sovereign lord of Denmark,
one of the grand fiefs of the empire. He accordingly sent an
embassy to demand of the king of Denmark this homage, and on
receiving a refusal, couched in haughty terms, sent an army to
enforce the demand. Geoffroy, after an unsuccessful resistance,
was forced to comply, and as a pledge of his sincerity delivered
Ogier, his eldest son, a hostage to Charles, to be brought up at
his court. He was placed in charge of the Duke Namo of Bavaria,
the friend of his father, who treated him like his own son.

Ogier grew up more and more handsome and amiable every day. He
surpassed in form, strength, and address all the noble youths his
companions; he failed not to be present at all tourneys; he was
attentive to the elder knights, and burned with impatience to
imitate them. Yet his heart rose sometimes in secret against his
condition as a hostage, and as one apparently forgotten by his

The King of Denmark, in fact, was at this time occupied with new
loves. Ogier's mother having died, he had married a second wife,
and had a son named Guyon. The new queen had absolute power over
her husband, and fearing that, if he should see Ogier again, he
would give him the preference over Guyon, she had adroitly
persuaded him to delay rendering his homage to Charlemagne, till
now four years had passed away since the last renewal of that
ceremony. Charlemagne, irritated at this delinquency, drew closer
the bonds of Ogier's captivity until he should receive a response
from the king of Denmark to a fresh summons which he caused to be
sent to him.

The answer of Geoffroy was insulting and defiant, and the rage of
Charlemagne was roused in the highest degree. He was at first
disposed to wreak his vengeance upon Ogier, his hostage; but at
the entreaties of Duke Namo, who felt towards his pupil like a
father, consented to spare his life, if Ogier would swear fidelity
to him as his liege-lord, and promise not to quit his court
without his permission. Ogier accepted these terms, and was
allowed to retain all the freedom he had before enjoyed.

The Emperor would have immediately taken arms to reduce his
disobedient vassal, if he had not been called off in another
direction by a message from Pope Leo, imploring his assistance.
The Saracens had landed in the neighborhood of Rome, occupied
Mount Janiculum, and prepared to pass the Tiber and carry fire and
sword to the capital of the Christian world. Charlemagne hesitated
not to yield to the entreaties of the Pope. He speedily assembled
an army, crossed the Alps, traversed Italy, and arrived at
Spoleto, a strong place to which the Pope had retired. Leo, at the
head of his Cardinals, advanced to meet him, and rendered him
homage, as to the son of Pepin, the illustrious protector of the
Holy See, coming, as his father had done, to defend it in the hour
of need.

Charlemagne stopped but two days at Spoleto, and learning that the
Infidels, having rendered themselves masters of Rome, were
besieging the Capitol, which could not long hold out against them,
marched promptly to attack them.

The advanced posts of the army were commanded by Duke Namo, on
whom Ogier waited as his squire. He did not yet bear arms, not
having received the order of knighthood. The Oriflamme, the royal
standard, was borne by a knight named Alory, who showed himself
unworthy of the honor.

Duke Namo, seeing a strong body of the Infidels advancing to
attack him, gave the word to charge them. Ogier remained in the
rear, with the other youths, grieving much that he was not
permitted to fight. Very soon he saw Alory lower the Oriflamme,
and turn his horse in flight. Ogier pointed him out to the young
men, and seizing a club, rushed upon Alory and struck him from his
horse. Then, with his companions, he disarmed him, clothed himself
in his armor, raised the Oriflamme, and mounting the horse of the
unworthy knight, flew to the front rank, where he joined Duke
Namo, drove back the Infidels, and carried the Oriflamme quite
through their broken ranks. The Duke, thinking it was Alory, whom
he had not held in high esteem, was astonished at his strength and
valor. Ogier's young companions imitated him, supplying themselves
with armor from the bodies of the slain; they followed Ogier and
carried death into the ranks of the Saracens, who fell back in
confusion upon their main body.

Duke Namo now ordered a retreat, and Ogier obeyed with reluctance,
when they perceived Charlemagne advancing to their assistance. The
combat now became general, and was more terrible than ever.
Charlemagne had overthrown Corsuble, the commander of the
Saracens, and had drawn his famous sword, Joyeuse, to cut off his
head, when two Saracen knights set upon him at once, one of whom
slew his horse, and the other overthrew the Emperor on the sand.
Perceiving by the eagle on his casque who he was, they dismounted
in haste to give him his deathblow. Never was the life of the
Emperor in such peril. But Ogier, who saw him fall, flew to his
rescue. Though embarrassed with the Oriflamme, he pushed his horse
against one of the Saracens and knocked him down; and with his
sword dealt the other so vigorous a blow that he fell stunned to
the earth. Then helping the Emperor to rise, he remounted him on
the horse of one of the fallen knights. "Brave and generous
Alory!" Charles exclaimed, "I owe to you my honor and my life!"
Ogier made no answer; but, leaving Charlemagne surrounded by a
great many of the knights who had flown to his succor, he plunged
into the thickest ranks of the enemy, and carried the Oriflamme,
followed by a gallant train of youthful warriors, till the
standard of Mahomet turned in retreat, and the Infidels sought
safety in their intrenchments.

Then the good Archbishop Turpin laid aside his helmet and his
bloody sword (for he always felt that he was clearly in the line
of his duty while slaying Infidels), took his mitre and his
crosier, and intoned Te Deum.

At this moment Ogier, covered with blood and dust, came to lay the
Oriflamme at the feet of the Emperor. He was followed by a train
of warriors of short stature, who walked ill at ease loaded with
armor too heavy for them. Ogier knelt at the feet of Charlemagne,
who embraced him, calling him Alory, while Turpin from the height
of the altar, blessed him with all his might. Then young Orlando,
son of the Count Milone, and nephew of Charlemagne, no longer able
to endure this misapprehension, threw down his helmet, and ran to
unlace Ogier's, while the other young men laid aside theirs. Our
author says he cannot express the surprise, the admiration, and
the tenderness of the Emperor and his peers. Charles folded Ogier
in his arms, and the happy fathers of those brave youths embraced
them with tears of joy. The good Duke Namo stepped forward, and
Charlemagne yielded Ogier to his embrace. "How much do I owe you,"
he said, "good and wise friend, for having restrained my anger! My
dear Ogier! I owe you my life! My sword leaps to touch your
shoulder, yours and those of your brave young friends." At these
words he drew that famous sword, Joyeuse, and while Ogier and the
rest knelt before him, gave them the accolade conferring on them
the order of knighthood. The young Orlando and his cousin Oliver
could not refrain, even in the presence of the Emperor, from
falling upon Ogier's neck, and pledging with him that brotherhood
in arms, so dear and so sacred to the knights of old times; but
Charlot, the Emperor's son, at the sight of the glory with which
Ogier had covered himself, conceived the blackest jealousy and

The rest of the day and the next were spent in the rejoicings of
the army. Turpin in a solemn service implored the favor of Heaven
upon the youthful knights, and blessed the white armor which was
prepared for them. Duke Namo presented them with golden spurs,
Charles himself girded on their swords. But what was his
astonishment when he examined that intended for Ogier! The loving
Fairy, Morgana, had had the art to change it, and to substitute
one of her own procuring, and when Charles drew it out of the
scabbard, these words appeared written on the steel: "My name is
Cortana, of the same steel and temper as Joyeuse and Durindana."
Charles saw that a superior power watched over the destinies of
Ogier; he vowed to love him as a father would, and Ogier promised
him the devotion of a son. Happy had it been for both if they had
always continued mindful of their promises.

The Saracen army had hardly recovered from its dismay when
Carahue, King of Mauritania, who was one of the knights overthrown
by Ogier at the time of the rescue of Charlemagne, determined to
challenge him to single combat. With that view he assumed the
dress of a herald, resolved to carry his own message. The French
knights admired his air, and said to one another that he seemed
more fit to be a knight than a bearer of messages.

Carahue began by passing the warmest eulogium upon the knight who
bore the Oriflamme on the day of the battle, and concluded by
saying that Carahue, King of Mauritania, respected that knight so
much that he challenged him to the combat.

Ogier had risen to reply, when he was interrupted by Charlot, who
said that the gage of the King of Mauritania could not fitly be
received by a vassal, living in captivity; by which he meant
Ogier, who was at that time serving as hostage for his father.
Fire flashed from the eyes of Ogier, but the presence of the
Emperor restrained his speech, and he was calmed by the kind looks
of Charlemagne, who said, with an angry voice, "Silence, Charlot!
By the life of Bertha, my queen, he who has saved my life is as
dear to me as yourself. Ogier," he continued, "you are no longer a
hostage. Herald! report my answer to your master, that never does
knight of my court refuse a challenge on equal terms. Ogier, the
Dane, accepts of his, and I myself am his security."

Carahue, profoundly bowing, replied, "My lord, I was sure that the
sentiments of so great a sovereign as yourself would be worthy of
your high and brilliant fame; I shall report your answer to my
master, who I know admires you, and unwillingly takes arms against
you." Then, turning to Charlot, whom he did not know as the son of
the Emperor, he continued, "As for you, Sir Knight, if the desire
of battle inflames you, I have it in charge from Sadon, cousin of
the King of Mauritania, to give the like defiance to any French
knights who will grant him the honor of the combat."

Charlot, inflamed with rage and vexation at the public reproof
which he had just received, hesitated not to deliver his gage.
Carahue received it with Ogier's, and it was agreed that the
combat should be on the next day in a meadow environed by woods
and equally distant from both armies.

The perfidious Charlot meditated the blackest treason. During the
night he collected some knights unworthy of the name, and like
himself in their ferocious manners; he made them swear to avenge
his injuries, armed them in black armor, and sent them to lie in
ambush in the wood, with orders to make a pretended attack upon
the whole party, but in fact, to lay heavy hands upon Ogier and
the two Saracens.

At the dawn of day Sadon and Carahue, attended tonly by two pages
to carry their spears, took their way to the appointed meadow; and
Charlot and Ogier repaired thither also, but by different paths.
Ogier advanced with a calm air, saluted courteously the two
Saracen knights, and joined them in arranging the terms of combat.

While this was going on the perfidious Charlot remained behind and
gave his men the signal to advance. That cowardly troop issued
from the wood and encompassed the three knights. All three were
equally surprised at the attack, but neither of them suspected the
other to have any hand in the treason. Seeing the attack made
equally upon them all, they united their efforts to resist it, and
made the most forward of the assailants bite the dust. Cortana
fell on no one without inflicting a mortal wound, but the sword of
Carahue was not of equal temper and broke in his hands. At the
same instant his horse was slain, and Carahue fell, without a
weapon, and entangled with his prostrate horse. Ogier, who saw it,
ran to his defence, and leaping to the ground covered the prince
with his shield, supplied him with the sword of one of the fallen
ruffians, and would have him mount his own horse. At that moment
Charlot, inflamed with rage, pushed his horse upon Ogier, knocked
him down, and would have run him through with his lance if Sadon,
who saw the treason, had not sprung upon him and thrust him back.
Carahue leapt lightly upon the horse which Ogier presented him,
and had time only to exclaim, "Brave Ogier, I am no longer your
enemy, I pledge to you an eternal friendship," when numerous
Saracen knights were seen approaching, having discovered the
treachery, and Charlot with his followers took refuge in the wood.

The troop which advanced was commanded by Dannemont, the exiled
king of Denmark, whom Geoffroy, Ogier's father, had driven from
his throne and compelled to take refuge with the Saracens.
Learning who Ogier was, he instantly declared him his prisoner, in
spite of the urgent remonstrances and even threats of Carahue and
Sadon, and carried him under a strong guard to the Saracen camp.
Here he was at first subjected to the most rigorous captivity, but
Carahue and Sadon insisted so vehemently on his release,
threatening to turn their arms against their own party if it was
not granted, while Dannemont as eagerly opposed the measure, that
Corsuble, the Saracen commander, consented to a middle course, and
allowed Ogier the freedom of his camp, upon his promise not to
leave it without permission.

Carahue was not satisfied with this partial concession. He left
the city next morning, proceeded to the camp of Charlemagne, and
demanded to be led to the Emperor. When he reached his presence he
dismounted from his horse, took off his helmet, drew his sword,
and holding it by the blade presented it to Charlemagne as he
knelt before him.

"Illustrious prince," he said, "behold before you the herald who
brought the challenge to your knights from the King of Mauritania.
The cowardly old King Dannemont has made the brave Ogier prisoner,
and has prevailed on our general to refuse to give him up. I come
to make amends for this ungenerous conduct by yielding myself,
Carahue, King of Mauritania, your prisoner."

Charlemagne, with all his peers, admired the magnanimity of
Carahue; he raised him, embraced him, and restored to him his
sword. "Prince," said he, "your presence and the bright example
you afford my knights consoles me for the loss of Ogier. Would to
God you might receive our holy faith, and be wholly united with
us." All the lords of the court, led by Duke Namo, paid their
respects to the King of Mauritania. Charlot only failed to appear,
fearing to be recognized as a traitor; but the heart of Carahue
was too noble to pierce that of Charlemagne by telling him the
treachery of his son.

Meanwhile the Saracen army was rent by discord. The troops of
Carahue clamored against the commander-in-chief because their king
was left in captivity. They even threatened to desert the cause
and turn their arms against their allies. Charlemagne pressed the
siege vigorously, till at length the Saracen leaders found
themselves compelled to abandon the city and betake themselves to
their ships. A truce was made; Ogier was exchanged for Carahue,
and the two friends embraced one another with vows of perpetual
brotherhood. The Pope was reestablished in his dominions, and
Italy being tranquil, Charlemagne returned with his peers and
their followers to France.

OGIER, THE DANE (Continued)

CHARLEMAGNE had not forgotten the offence of Geoffroy, the King of
Denmark, in withholding homage, and now prepared to enforce
submission. But at this crisis he was waited upon by an embassy
from Geoffroy, acknowledging his fault, and craving assistance
against an army of invaders who had attacked his states with a
force which he was unable to repel. The soul of Charlemagne was
too great to be implacable, and he took this opportunity to test
that of Ogier, who had felt acutely the unkindness of his father,
in leaving him, without regard or notice, fifteen years in
captivity. Charles asked Ogier whether, in spite of his father's
neglect, he was disposed to lead an army to his assistance. He
replied, "A son can never be excused from helping his father by
any cause short of death." Charlemagne placed an army of a
thousand knights under the command of Ogier, and great numbers
more volunteered to march under so distinguished a leader. He flew
to the succor of his father, repelled the invaders, and drove them
in confusion to their vessels. Ogier then hastened to the capital,
but as he drew near the city he heard all the bells sounding a
knell. He soon learned the cause; it was the obsequies of
Geoffroy, the King. Ogier felt keenly the grief of not having been
permitted to embrace his father once more, and to learn his latest
commands; but he found that his father had declared him heir to
his throne. He hastened to the church where the body lay; he knelt
and bathed the lifeless form with his tears. At that moment a
celestial light beamed all around, and a voice of an angel said,
"Ogier, leave thy crown to Guyon, thy brother, and bear no other
title than that of 'The Dane.' Thy destiny is glorious, and other
kingdoms are reserved for thee." Ogier obeyed the divine behest.
He saluted his stepmother respectfully, and embracing his brother,
told him that he was content with his lot in being reckoned among
the paladins of Charlemagne, and resigned all claims to the crown
of Denmark.

Ogier returned covered with glory to the court of Charlemagne, and
the Emperor, touched with this proof of his attachment, loaded him
with caresses, and treated him almost as an equal.

We pass in silence the adventures of Ogier for several ensuing
years, in which the fairy-gifts of his infancy showed their force
in making him successful in all enterprises, both of love and war.
He married the charming Belicene, and became the father of young
Baldwin, a youth who seemed to inherit in full measure the
strength and courage of his father and the beauty of his mother.
When the lad was old enough to be separated from his mother, Ogier
took him to court and presented him to Charlemagne, who embraced
him and took him into his service. It seemed to Duke Namo, and all
the elder knights, as if they saw in him Ogier himself, as he was
when a youth; and this resemblance won for the lad their kind
regards. Even Charlot at first seemed to be fond of him, though
after a while the resemblance to Ogier which he noticed had the
effect to excite his hatred.

Baldwin was attentive to Charlot, and lost no occasion to be
serviceable. The Prince loved to play chess, and Baldwin, who
played well, often made a party with him.

One day Charlot was nettled at losing two pieces in succession; he
thought he could, by taking a piece from Baldwin, get some amends
for his loss; but Baldwin, seeing him fall into a trap which he
had set for him, could not help a slight laugh, as he said,
"Check-mate." Chariot rose in a fury, seized the rich and heavy
chess-board, and dashed it with all his strength on the head of
Baldwin, who fell, and died where he fell.

Frightened at his own crime, and fearing the vengeance of the
terrible Ogier, Charlot concealed himself in the interior of the
palace. A young companion of Baldwin hastened and informed Ogier
of the event. He ran to the chamber, and beheld the body of his
child bathed in blood, and it could not be concealed from him that
Charlot gave the blow. Transported with rage, Ogier sought Charlot
through the palace, and Charlot, feeling safe nowhere else, took
refuge in the hall of Charlemagne, where he seated himself at
table with Duke Namo and Salomon, Duke of Brittany. Ogier, with
sword drawn, followed him to the very table of the Emperor. When a
cupbearer attempted to bar his way he struck the cup from his hand
and dashed the contents in the Emperor's face. Charles rose in a
passion, seized a knife, and would have plunged it into his
breast, had not Salomon and another baron thrown themselves
between, while Namo, who had retained his ancient influence over
Ogier, drew him out of the room. Foreseeing the consequence of
this violence, pitying Ogier, and in his heart excusing him, Namo
hurried him away before the guards of the palace could arrest him,
made him mount his horse, and leave Paris.

Charlemagne called together his peers, and made them take an oath
to do all in their power to arrest Ogier, and bring him to condign
punishment. Ogier on his part sent messages to the Emperor,
offering to give himself up on condition that Charlot should be
punished for his atrocious crime. The Emperor would listen to no
conditions, and went in pursuit of Ogier at the head of a large
body of soldiers. Ogier, on the other hand, was warmly supported
by many knights, who pledged themselves in his defence. The
contest raged long, with no decisive results. Ogier more than once
had the Emperor in his power, but declined to avail himself of his
advantage, and released him without conditions. He even implored
pardon for himself, but demanded at the same time the punishment
of Charlot. But Charlemagne was too blindly fond of his unworthy
son to subject him to punishment for the sake of conciliating one
who had been so deeply injured.

At length, distressed at the blood which his friends had lost in
his cause, Ogier dismissed his little army, and slipping away from
those who wished to attend him, took his course to rejoin the Duke
Guyon, his brother. On his way, having reached the forest of
Ardennes, weary with long travel, the freshness of a retired
valley tempted him to lie down to take some repose. He unsaddled
Beiffror, relieved himself of his helmet, lay down on the turf,
rested his head on his shield, and slept.

It so happened that Turpin, who occasionally recalled to mind that
he was Archbishop of Rheins, was at that time in the vicinity,
making a pastoral visit to the churches under his jurisdiction.
But his dignity of peer of France, and his martial spirit, which
caused him to be reckoned among the "preux chevaliers" of his
time, forbade him to travel without as large a retinue of knights
as he had of clergymen. One of these was thirsty, and knowing the
fountain on the borders of which Ogier was reposing, he rode to
it, and was struck by the sight of a knight stretched on the
ground. He hastened back, and let the Archbishop know, who
approached the fountain, and recognized Ogier.

The first impulse of the good and generous Turpin was to save his
friend, for whom he felt the warmest attachment; but his
archdeacons and knights, who also recognized Ogier, reminded the
Archbishop of the oath which the Emperor had exacted of them all.
Turpin could not be false to his oath; but it was not without a
groan that he permitted his followers to bind the sleeping knight.
The Archbishop's attendants secured the horse and arms of Ogier,
and conducted their prisoner to the Emperor at Soissons.

The Emperor had become so much embittered by Ogier's obstinate
resistance, added to his original fault, that he was disposed to
order him to instant death. But Turpin, seconded by the good Dukes
Namo and Salomon, prayed so hard for him that Charlemagne
consented to remit a violent death, but sentenced him to close
imprisonment, under the charge of the Archbishop, strictly
limiting his food to one quarter of a loaf of bread per day, with
one piece of meat, and a quarter of a cup of wine. In this way he
hoped to quickly put an end to his life without bringing on
himself the hostility of the King of Denmark, and other powerful
friends of Ogier. He exacted a new oath of Turpin to obey his
order strictly.

The good Archbishop loved Ogier too well not to cast about for
some means of saving his life, which he foresaw he would soon lose
if subjected to such scanty fare, for Ogier was seven feet tall,
and had an appetite in proportion. Turpin remembered, moreover,
that Ogier was a true son of the Church, always zealous to
propagate the faith and subdue unbelievers; so he felt justified
in practising on this occasion what in later times has been
entitled "mental reservation," without swerving from the letter of
the oath which he had taken. This is the method he hit upon.

Every morning he had his prisoner supplied with a quarter of a
loaf of bread, made of two bushels of flour, to this he added a
quarter of a sheep or a fat calf, and he had a cup made which held
forty pints of wine, and allowed Ogier a quarter of it daily.

Ogier's imprisonment lasted long; Charlemagne was astonished to
hear, from time to time, that he still held out; and when he
inquired more particularly of Turpin, the good Archbishop, relying
on his own understanding of the words, did not hesitate to affirm
positively that he allowed his prisoner no more than the permitted

We forgot to say that, when Ogier was led prisoner to Soissons,
the Abbot of Saint Faron, observing the fine horse Beiffror, and
not having at the time any other favor to ask of Charlemagne,
begged the Emperor to give him the horse, and had him taken to his
abbey. He was impatient to try his new acquisition, and when he
had arrived in his litter at the foot of the mountain where the
horse had been brought to meet him mounted him and rode onward.
The horse, accustomed to bear the enormous weight of Ogier in his
armor, when he perceived nothing on his back but the light weight
of the Abbot, whose long robes fluttered against his sides, ran
away, making prodigious leaps over the steep acclivities of the
mountain till he reached the convent of Jouaire, where, in sight
of the Abbess and her nuns, he threw the Abbot, already half dead
with fright, to the ground. The Abbot, bruised and mortified,
revenged himself on poor Beiffror, whom he condemned, in his
wrath, to be given to the workmen to drag stones for a chapel that
he was building near the abbey. Thus, ill-fed, hard-worked, and
often beaten, the noble horse Beiffror passed the time while his
master's imprisonment lasted.

That imprisonment would have been as long as his life if it had
not been for some important events which forced the Emperor to set
Ogier at liberty.

The Emperor learned at the same time that Carahue, King of
Mauritania, was assembling an army to come and demand the
liberation of Ogier; that Guyon, King of Denmark, was prepared to
second the enterprise with all his forces; and, worse than all,
that the Saracens, under Bruhier, Sultan of Arabia, had landed in
Gascony, taken Bordeaux, and were marching with all speed for

Charlemagne now felt how necessary the aid of Ogier was to him.
But, in spite of the representations of Turpin, Namo, and Salomon,
he could not bring himself to consent to surrender Charlot to such
punishment as Ogier should see fit to impose. Besides, he believed
that Ogier was without strength and vigor, weakened by
imprisonment and long abstinence.

At this crisis he received a message from Bruhier, proposing to
put the issue upon the result of a combat between himself and the
Emperor or his champion; promising, if defeated, to withdraw his
army. Charlemagne would willingly have accepted the challenge, but
his counsellors all opposed it. The herald was therefore told that
the Emperor would take time to consider his proposition, and give
his answer the next day.

It was during this interval that the three Dukes succeeded in
prevailing upon Charlemagne to pardon Ogier, and to send for him
to combat the puissant enemy who now defied him; but it was no
easy task to persuade Ogier. The idea of his long imprisonment and
the recollection of his son, bleeding and dying in his arms by the
blow of the ferocious Charlot, made him long resist the urgency of
his friends. Though glory called him to encounter Bruhier, and the
safety of Christendom demanded the destruction of this proud enemy
of the faith, Ogier only yielded at last on condition that Charlot
should be delivered into his hands to be dealt with as he should
see fit.

The terms were hard, but the danger was pressing, and Charlemagne,
with a returning sense of justice, and a strong confidence in the
generous though passionate soul of Ogier, at last consented to

Ogier was led into the presence of Charlemagne by the three peers.
The Emperor, faithful to his word, had caused Charlot to be
brought into the hall where the high barons were assembled, his
hands tied, and his head uncovered. When the Emperor saw Ogier
approach he took Charlot by the arm, led him towards Ogier, and
said these words: "I surrender the criminal; do with him as you
think fit." Ogier, without replying, seized Charlot by the hair,
forced him on his knees, and lifted with the other hand his
irresistible sword. Charlemagne, who expected to see the head of
his son rolling at his feet, shut his eyes and uttered a cry of

Ogier had done enough. The next moment he raised Charlot, cut his
bonds, kissed him on the mouth, and hastened to throw himself at
the feet of the Emperor.

Nothing can exceed the surprise and joy of Charlemagne at seeing
his son unharmed and Ogier kneeling at his feet. He folded him in
his arms, bathed him with tears, and exclaimed to his barons, "I
feel at this moment that Ogier is greater than I." As for Charlot,
his base soul felt nothing but the joy of having escaped death; he
remained such as he had been, and it was not till some years
afterwards he received the punishment he deserved, from the hands
of Huon of Bordeaux, as we have seen in a former chapter.

OGIER, THE DANE (Continued)

WHEN Charlemagne had somewhat recovered his composure he was
surprised to observe that Ogier appeared in good case, and had a
healthy color in his cheeks. He turned to the Archbishop, who
could not help blushing as he met his eye. "By the head of Bertha,
my queen," said Charlemagne, "Ogier has had good quarters in your
castle, my Lord Archbishop; but so much the more am I indebted to
you." All the barons laughed and jested with Turpin, who only
said, "Laugh as much as you please, my lords; but for my part I am
not sorry to see the arm in full vigor that is to avenge us on the
proud Saracen."

Charlemagne immediately despatched his herald, accepting the
challenge, and appointing the next day but one for the encounter.
The proud and crafty Bruhier laughed scornfully when he heard the
reply accepting his challenge, for he had a reliance on certain
resources besides his natural strength and skill. However, he
swore by Mahomet to observe the conditions as proposed and agreed

Ogier now demanded his armor, and it was brought to him in
excellent condition, for the good Turpin had kept it faithfully;
but it was not easy to provide a horse for the occasion.
Charlemagne had the best horses of his stables brought out, except
Blanchard, his own charger; but all in vain, the weight of Ogier
bent their backs to the ground. In this embarrassment the
Archbishop remembered that the Emperor had given Beiffror to the
Abbot of St. Faron, and sent off a courier in haste to re-demand

Monks are hard masters, and the one who directed the laborers at
the abbey had but too faithfully obeyed the orders of the Abbot.
Poor Beiffror was brought back, lean, spiritless, and chafed with
the harness of the vile cart that he had had to draw so long. He
carried his head down, and trod heavily before Charlemagne; but
when he heard the voice of Ogier he raised his head, he neighed,
his eyes flashed, his former ardor showed itself by the force with
which he pawed the ground. Ogier caressed him, and the good steed
seemed to return his caresses; Ogier mounted him, and Beiffror,
proud of carrying his master again, leapt and curvetted with all
his youthful vigor.

Nothing being now wanted, Charlemagne, at the head of his army,
marched forth from the city of Paris, and occupied the hill of
Montmartre, whence the view extended over the plain of St. Denis,
where the battle was to be fought.

When the appointed day came the Dukes Namo and Salomon, as seconds
of Ogier, accompanied him to the place marked out for the lists,
and Bruhier, with two distinguished Emirs, presented himself on
the other side.

Bruhier was in high spirits, and jested with his friends, as he
advanced, upon the appearance of Beiffror. "Is that the horse they
presume to match with Marchevallee, the best steed that ever fed
in the vales of Mount Atlas?" But now the combatants, having met
and saluted each other, ride apart to come together in full
career. Beiffror flew over the plain, and met the adversary more
than half-way. The lances of the two combatants were shivered at
the shock, and Bruhier was astonished to see almost at the same
instant the sword of Ogier gleaming above his head. He parried it
with his buckler, and gave Ogier a blow on his helmet, who
returned it with another, better aimed or better seconded by the
temper of his blade, for it cut away part of Bruhier's helmet, and
with it his ear and part of his cheek. Ogier, seeing the blood,
did not immediately repeat his blow, and Bruhier seized the moment
to gallop off at one side. As he rode he took a vase of gold which
hung at his saddle-bow, and bathed with its contents the wounded
part. The blood instantly ceased to flow, the ear and the flesh
were restored quite whole, and the Dane was astonished to see his
antagonist return to the ground as sound as ever.

Bruhier laughed at his amazement. "Know," said he, "that I possess
the precious balm that Joseph of Arimathea used upon the body of
the crucified one, whom you worship. If I should lose an arm I
could restore it with a few drops of this. It is useless for you
to contend with me. Yield yourself, and, as you appear to be a
strong fellow, I will make you first oarsman in one of my

Ogier, though boiling with rage, forgot not to implore the
assistance of Heaven. "O Lord!" he exclaimed, "suffer not the
enemy of thy name to profit by the powerful help of that which
owes all its virtue to thy divine blood." At these words he
attacked Bruhier again with more vigor than ever; both struck
terrible blows, and made grievous wounds; but the blood flowed
from those of Ogier, while Bruhier stanched his by the application
of his balm. Ogier, desperate at the unequal contest, grasped
Cortana with both hands, and struck his enemy such a blow that it
cleft his buckler, and cut off his arm with it; but Bruhier at the
same time launched one at Ogier, which, missing him, struck the
head of Beiffror, and the good horse fell, and drew down his
master in his fall.

Bruhier had time to leap to the ground, to pick up his arm and
apply his balsam; then, before Ogier had recovered his footing, he
rushed forward with sword uplifted to complete his destruction.

Charlemagne, from the height of Montmartre, seeing the brave Ogier
in this situation, groaned, and was ready to murmur against
Providence; but the good Turpin, raising his arms, with a faith
like that of Moses, drew down upon the Christian warrior the favor
of Heaven.

Ogier, promptly disengaging himself, pressed Bruhier with so much
impetuosity that he drove him to a distance from his horse, to
whose saddle-bow the precious balm was suspended; and very soon
Charlemagne saw Ogier, now completely in the advantage, bring his
enemy to his knees, tear off his helmet, and, with a sweep of his
sword, strike his head from his body.

After the victory, Ogier seized Marchevallee, leaped upon his
back, and became possessed of the precious flask, a few drops from
which closed his wounds and restored his strength. The French
knights who had been Bruhier's captives, now released, pressed
round Ogier to thank him for their deliverance.

Charlemagne and his nobles, as soon as their attention was
relieved from the single combat, perceived from their elevated
position an unusual agitation in the enemy's camp. They attributed
it at first to the death of their general, but soon the noise of
arms, the cries of combatants, and new standards which advanced,
disclosed to them the fact that Bruhier's army was attacked by a
new enemy.

The Emperor was right; it was the brave Carahue of Mauritania,
who, with an army, had arrived in France, resolved to attempt the
liberation of Ogier, his brother in arms. Learning on his arrival
the changed aspect of affairs, he hesitated not to render a signal
service to the Emperor, by attacking the army of Bruhier in the
midst of the consternation occasioned by the loss of its

Ogier recognized the standard of his friend, and leaping upon
Marchevallee, flew to aid his attack. Charlemagne followed with
his army; and the Saracen host, after an obstinate conflict, was
forced to surrender unconditionally.

The interview of Ogier and Carahue was such as might be
anticipated of two such attached friends and accomplished knights.
Charlemagne went to meet them, embraced them, and putting the King
of Mauritania on his right and Ogier on his left, returned with
triumph to Paris. There the Empress Bertha and the ladies of her
court crowned them with laurels, and the sage and gallant
Eginhard, chamberlain and secretary of the Emperor, wrote all
these great events in his history.

A few days after Guyon, King of Denmark, arrived in France with a
chosen band of knights, and sent an ambassador to Charlemagne, to
say that he came, not as an enemy, but to render homage to him as
the best knight of the time and the head of the Christian world.
Charlemagne gave the ambassador a cordial reception, and mounting
his horse, rode forward to meet the King of Denmark.

These great princes, being assembled at the court of Charles, held
council together, and the ancient and sage barons were called to
join it.

It was decided that the united Danish and Mauritanian armies
should cross the sea and carry the war to the country of the
Saracens, and that a thousand French knights should range
themselves under the banner of Ogier, the Dane, who, though not a
king, should have equal rank with the two others.

We have not space to record all the illustrious actions performed
by Ogier and his allies in this war. Suffice it to say, they
subdued the Saracens of Ptolemais and Judaea, and, erecting those
regions into a kingdom, placed the crown upon the head of Ogier.
Guyon and Carahue then left him, to return to their respective
dominions. Ogier adopted Walter, the son of Guyon of Denmark, to
be his successor in his kingdom. He superintended his education,
and saw the young prince grow up worthy of his cares. But Ogier,
in spite of all the honors of his rank, often regretted the court
of Charlemagne, the Duke Namo, and Salomon of Brittany, for whom
he had the respect and attachment of a son. At last, finding
Walter old enough to sustain the weight of government, Ogier
caused a vessel to be prepared secretly, and, attended only by one
squire, left his palace by night, and embarked to return to

The vessel, driven by a fair wind, cut the sea with the swiftness
of a bird; but on a sudden it deviated from its course, no longer
obeyed the helm, and sped fast towards a black promontory which
stretched into the sea. This was a mountain of loadstone, and, its
attractive power increasing as the distance diminished, the vessel
at last flew with the swiftness of an arrow towards it, and was
dashed to pieces on its rocky base. Ogier alone saved himself, and
reached the shore on a fragment of the wreck.

Ogier advanced into the country, looking for some marks of
inhabitancy, but found none. On a sudden he encountered two
monstrous animals, covered with glittering scales, accompanied by
a horse breathing fire. Ogier drew his sword and prepared to
defend himself; but the monsters, terrific as they appeared, made
no attempt to assail him, and the horse, Papillon, knelt down, and
appeared to court Ogier to mount upon his back. Ogier hesitated
not to see the adventure through; he mounted Papillon, who ran
with speed, and soon cleared the rocks and precipices which hemmed
in and concealed a beautiful landscape. He continued his course
till he reached a magnificent palace, and, without allowing Ogier
time to admire it, crossed a grand court-yard adorned with
colonnades, and entered a garden, where, making his way through
alleys of myrtle, he checked his course, and knelt down on the
enamelled turf of a fountain.

Ogier dismounted and took some steps along the margin of the
stream, but was soon stopped by meeting a young beauty, such as
they paint the Graces, and almost as lightly attired as they. At
the same moment, to his amazement, his armor fell off of its own
accord. The young beauty advanced with a tender air, and placed
upon his head a crown of flowers. At that instant the Danish hero
lost his memory; his combats, his glory, Charlemagne and his
court, all vanished from his mind; he saw only Morgana, he desired
nothing but to sigh forever at her feet.

We abridge the narrative of all the delights which Ogier enjoyed
for more than a hundred years. Time flew by, leaving no impression
of its flight. Morgana's youthful charms did not decay, and Ogier
had none of those warnings of increasing years which less favored
mortals never fail to receive. There is no knowing how long this
blissful state might have lasted, if it had not been for an
accident, by which Morgana one day, in a sportive moment, snatched
the crown from his head. That moment Ogier regained his memory,
and lost his contentment. The recollection of Charlemagne, and of
his own relatives and friends, saddened the hours which he passed
with Morgana. The fairy saw with grief the changed looks of her
lover. At last she drew from him the acknowledgment that he wished
to go, at least for a time, to revisit Charles's court. She
consented with reluctance, and with her own hands helped to
reinvest him with his armor. Papillon was led forth, Ogier mounted
him, and, taking a tender adieu of the tearful Morgana, crossed at
rapid speed the rocky belt which separated Morgana's palace from
the borders of the sea. The sea-goblins which had received him at
his coming awaited him on the shore. One of them took Ogier on his
back, and the other placing himself under Papillon, they spread
their broad fins, and in a short time traversed the wide space
that separates the isle of Avalon from France. They landed Ogier
on the coast of Languedoc, and then plunged into the sea and

Ogier remounted on Papillon, who carried him across the kingdom
almost as fast as he had passed the sea. He arrived under the
walls of Paris, which he would scarcely have recognized if the
high towers of St. Genevieve had not caught his eye. He went
straight to the palace of Charlemagne, which seemed to him to have
been entirely rebuilt. His surprise was extreme, and increased
still more on finding that he understood with difficulty the
language of the guards and attendants in replying to his
questions; and seeing them smile as they tried to explain to one
another the language in which he addressed them. Presently the
attention of some of the barons who were going to court was
attracted to the scene, and Ogier, who recognized the badges of
their rank, addressed them, and inquired if the Dukes Namo and
Salomon were still residing at the Emperor's court. At this
question the barons looked at one another in amazement; and one of
the eldest said to the rest, "How much this knight resembles the
portrait of my grand-uncle, Ogier the Dane." "Ah! my dear nephew,
I am Ogier the Dane," said he; and he remembered that Morgana had
told him that he was little aware of the flight of time during his
abode with her.

The barons, more astonished than ever, concluded to conduct him to
the monarch who then reigned, the great Hugh Capet.

The brave Ogier entered the palace without hesitation; but when,
on reaching the royal hall, the barons directed him to make his
obeisance to the King of France, he was astonished to see a man of
short stature and large head, whose air, nevertheless, was noble
and martial, seated upon the throne on which he had so often seen
Charlemagne, the tallest and handsomest sovereign of his time.

Ogier recounted his adventures with simplicity and affectedness.
Hugh Capet was slow to believe him; but Ogier recalled so many
proofs and circumstances, that at last he was forced to recognize
the aged warrior to be the famous Ogier the Dane.

The king informed Ogier of the events which had taken place during
his long absence; that the line of Charlemagne was extinct; that a
new dynasty had commenced; that the old enemies of the kingdom,
the Saracens, were still troublesome; and that at that very time
an army of those miscreants was besieging the city of Chartres, to
which he was about to repair in a few days to its relief. Ogier,
always inflamed with the love of glory, offered the service of his
arm, which the illustrious monarch accepted graciously, and
conducted him to the queen. The astonishment of Ogier was
redoubled when he saw the new ornaments and head-dresses of the
ladies; still, the beautiful hair which they built up on their
foreheads, and the feathers interwoven, which waved with so much
grace, gave them a noble air that delighted him. His admiration
increased when, instead of the old Empress Bertha, he saw a young
queen who combined a majestic mien with the graces of her time of
life, and manners candid and charming, suited to attach all
hearts. Ogier saluted the youthful queen with a respect so
profound that many of the courtiers took him for a foreigner, or
at least for some nobleman brought up at a distance from Paris,
who retained the manners of what they called the old court.

When the queen was informed by her husband that it was the
celebrated Ogier the Dane whom he presented to her, whose
memorable exploits she had often read in the chronicles of
antiquity, her surprise was extreme, which was increased when she
remarked the dignity of his address, the animation and even the
youthfulness of his countenance. This queen had too much
intelligence to believe hastily; proof alone could compel her
assent; and she asked him many questions about the old court of
Charlemagne, and received such instructive and appropriate answers
as removed every doubt. It is to the corrections which Ogier was
at that time enabled to make to the popular narratives of his
exploits that we are indebted for the perfect accuracy and
trustworthiness of all the details of our own history.

King Hugh Capet, having received that same evening couriers from
the inhabitants of Chartres, informing him that they were hard
pressed by the besiegers, resolved to hasten with Ogier to their

Ogier terminated this affair as expeditiously as he had so often
done others. The Saracens having dared to offer battle, he bore
the Oriflamme through the thickest of their ranks; Papillon,
breathing fire from his nostrils, threw them into disorder, and
Cortana, wielded by his invincible arm, soon finished their

The king, victorious over the Saracens, led back the Danish hero
to Paris, where the deliverer of France received the honors due to
his valor. Ogier continued some time at the court, detained by the
favor of the king and queen; but erelong he had the pain to
witness the death of the king. Then it was that, impressed with
all the perfections which he had discerned in the queen, he could
not withhold the tender homage of the offer of his hand. The queen
would perhaps have accepted it, she had even called a meeting of
her great barons to deliberate on the proposition, when, the day
before the meeting was to be held, at the moment when Ogier was
kneeling at her feet, she perceived a crown of gold which an
invisible hand had placed on his brow, and in an instant a cloud
enveloped Ogier, and he disappeared forever from her sight. It was
Morgana, the fairy, whose jealousy was awakened at what she
beheld, who now resumed her power, and took him away to dwell with
her in the island of Avalon. There, in company with the great King
Arthur of Britain, he still lives, and when his illustrious friend
shall return to resume his ancient reign he will doubtless return
with him, and share his triumph.


Abdalrahman, founder of the independent Ommiad (Saracenic) power
in Spain, conquered at Tours by Charles Martel

Aberfraw, scene of nuptials of Branwen and Matholch

Absyrtus, younger brother of Medea

Abydos, a town on the Hellespont, nearly opposite to Sestos

Abyla, Mount, or Columna, a mountain in Morocco, near Ceuta, now
called Jebel Musa or Ape's Hill, forming the Northwestern
extremity of the African coast opposite Gibraltar (See Pillars of

Acestes, son of a Trojan woman who was sent by her father to
Sicily, that she might not be devoured by the monsters which
infested the territory of Troy

Acetes, Bacchanal captured by Pentheus

Achates, faithful friend and companion of Aeneas

Achelous, river-god of the largest river in Greece--his Horn of

Achilles, the hero of the Iliad, son of Peleus and of the Nereid
Thetis, slain by Paris

Acis, youth loved by Galatea and slain by Polyphemus

Acontius, a beautiful youth, who fell in love with Cydippe, the
daughter of a noble Athenian.

Acrisius, son of Abas, king of Argos, grandson of Lynceus, the
great-grandson of Danaus.

Actaeon, a celebrated huntsman, son of Aristaeus and Autonoe, who,
having seen Diana bathing, was changed by her to a stag and killed
by his own dogs.

Admeta, daughter of Eurystheus, covets Hippolyta's girdle.

Admetus, king of Thessaly, saved from death by Alcestis

Adonis, a youth beloved by Aphrodite (Venus), and Proserpine;
killed by a boar.

Adrastus, a king of Argos.

Aeacus, son of Zeus (Jupiter) and Aegina, renowned in all Greece
for his justice and piety.

Aeaea, Circe's island, visited by Ulysses.

Aeetes, or Aeeta, son of Helios (the Sun) and Perseis, and father
of Medea and Absyrtus.

Aegeus, king of Athens.

Aegina, a rocky island in the middle of the Saronic gulf.

Aegis, shield or breastplate of Jupiter and Minerva.

Aegisthus, murderer of Agamemnon, slain by Orestes.

Aeneas, Trojan hero, son of Anchises and Aphrodite (Venus), and
born on Mount Ida, reputed first settler of Rome,

Aeneid, poem by Virgil, relating the wanderings of Aeneas from
Troy to Italy,

Ae'olus, son of Hellen and the nymph Orseis, represented in Homer
as the happy ruler of the Aeolian Islands, to whom Zeus had given
dominion over the winds,

Aesculapius, god of the medical art,

Aeson, father of Jason, made young again by Medea,

Aethiopians, inhabitants of the country south of Egypt,

Aethra, mother of Theseus by Aegeus,

Aetna, volcano in Sicily,

Agamedes, brother of Trophonius, distinguished as an architect,

Agamemnon, son of Plisthenis and grandson of Atreus, king of
Mycenae, although the chief commander of the Greeks, is not the
hero of the Iliad, and in chivalrous spirit altogether inferior to

Agave, daughter of Cadmus, wife of Echion, and mother of Pentheus,

Agenor, father of Europa, Cadmus, Cilix, and Phoenix,

Aglaia, one of the Graces,

Agni, Hindu god of fire,

Agramant, a king in Africa,

Agrican, fabled king of Tartary, pursuing Angelica, finally killed
by Orlando,

Agrivain, one of Arthur's knights,

Ahriman, the Evil Spirit in the dual system of Zoroaster, See

Ajax, son of Telamon, king of Salamis, and grandson of Aeacus,
represented in the Iliad as second only to Achilles in bravery,

Alba, the river where King Arthur fought the Romans,

Alba Longa, city in Italy founded by son of Aeneas,

Alberich, dwarf guardian of Rhine gold treasure of the Nibelungs

Albracca, siege of,

Alcestis, wife of Admetus, offered hersell as sacrifice to spare
her husband, but rescued by Hercules,

Alcides (Hercules),

Alcina, enchantress,

Alcinous, Phaeacian king,

Alcippe, daughter of Mars, carried off by Halirrhothrus,

Alcmena, wife of Jupiter, and mother of Hercules,

Alcuin, English prelate and scholar,

Aldrovandus, dwarf guardian of treasure,

Alecto, one of the Furies,

Alexander the Great, king of Macedonia, conqueror of Greece,
Egypt, Persia, Babylonia, and India,

Alfadur, a name for Odin,

Alfheim, abode of the elves of light,

Alice, mother of Huon and Girard, sons of Duke Sevinus,

Alphenor, son of Niobe,

Alpheus, river god pursuing Arethusa, who escaped by being changed
to a fountain,

Althaea, mother of Meleager, whom she slew because he had in a
quarrel killed her brothers, thus disgracing "the house of
Thestius," her father,

Amalthea, nurse of the infant Jupiter in Crete,

Amata, wife of Latinus, driven mad by Alecto,

Amaury of Hauteville, false hearted Knight of Charlemagne,

Amazons, mythical race of warlike women,

Ambrosia, celestial food used by the gods,

Ammon, Egyptian god of life identified by Romans with phases of
Jupiter, the father of gods,

Amphiaraus, a great prophet and hero at Argos,

Amphion, a musician, son of Jupiter and Antiope (See Dirce),

Amphitrite, wife of Neptune,

Amphyrsos, a small river in Thessaly,

Ampyx, assailant of Perseus, turned to stone by seeing Gorgon's

Amrita, nectar giving immortality,

Amun, See Ammon

Amymone, one of the fifty daughters of Danaus, and mother by
Poseidon (Neptune) of Nauplius, the father of Palamedes,

Anaxarete, a maiden of Cyprus, who treated her lover Iphis with
such haughtiness that he hanged himself at her door,

Anbessa, Saracenic governor of Spain (725 AD),

Anceus, one of the Argonauts,

Anchises, beloved by Aphrodite (Venus), by whom he became the
father of Aeneas,

Andraemon, husband of Dryope, saw her changed into a tree,

Andret, a cowardly knight, spy upon Tristram,

Andromache, wife of Hector

Andromeda, daughter of King Cephas, delivered from monster by

Aneurin, Welsh bard

Angelica, Princess of Cathay

Anemone, short lived wind flower, created by Venus from the blood
of the slain Adonis

Angerbode, giant prophetess, mother of Fenris, Hela and the
Midgard Serpent

Anglesey, a Northern British island, refuge of Druids fleeing from

Antaeus, giant wrestler of Libya, killed by Hercules, who, finding
him stronger when thrown to the earth, lifted him into the air and
strangled him

Antea, wife of jealous Proetus

Antenor, descendants of, in Italy

Anteros, deity avenging unrequited love, brother of Eros (Cupid)

Anthor, a Greek

Antigone, daughter of Aedipus, Greek ideal of filial and sisterly

Antilochus, son of Nestor

Antiope, Amazonian queen. See Dirce

Anubis, Egyptian god, conductor of the dead to judgment


Aphrodite See Venus, Dione, etc.

Apis, Egyptian bull god of Memphis

Apollo, god of music and song

Apollo Belvedere, famous antique statue in Vatican at Rome

Apples of the Hesperides, wedding gifts to Juno, guarded by
daughters of Atlas and Hesperis, stolen by Atlas for Hercules,

Aquilo, or Boreas, the North Wind,

Aquitaine, ancient province of Southwestern France,

Arachne, a maiden skilled in weaving, changed to a spider by
Minerva for daring to compete with her,

Arcadia, a country in the middle of Peloponnesus, surrounded on
all sides by mountains,

Arcady, star of, the Pole star,

Arcas, son of Jupiter and Callisto,

Archer, constellation of the,

Areopagus, court of the, at Athens,

Ares, called Mars by the Romans, the Greek god of war, and one of
the great Olympian gods,

Arethusa, nymph of Diana, changed to a fountain,

Argius king of Ireland, father of Isoude the Fair,

Argo, builder of the vessel of Jason for the Argonautic

Argolis, city of the Nemean games,

Argonauts, Jason's crew seeking the Golden Fleece,

Argos, a kingdom in Greece,

Argus, of the hundred eyes, guardian of Io,

Ariadne, daughter of King Minos, who helped Theseus slay the

Arimanes SEE Ahriman.

Arimaspians, one-eyed people of Syria,

Arion, famous musician, whom sailors cast into the sea to rob him,
but whose lyric song charmed the dolphins, one of which bore him
safely to land,

Aristaeus, the bee keeper, in love with Eurydice,

Armorica, another name for Britain,

Arridano, a magical ruffian, slain by Orlando,

Artemis SEE Diana

Arthgallo, brother of Elidure, British king,

Arthur, king in Britain about the 6th century,

Aruns, an Etruscan who killed Camilla,

Asgard, home of the Northern gods,

Ashtaroth, a cruel spirit, called by enchantment to bring Rinaldo
to death,

Aske, the first man, made from an ash tree,

Astolpho of England, one of Charlemagne's knights,

Astraea, goddess of justice, daughter of Astraeus and Eos,

Astyages, an assailant of Perseus,

Astyanax, son of Hector of Troy, established kingdom of Messina in

Asuias, opponents of the Braminical gods,

Atalanta, beautiful daughter of King of Icaria, loved and won in a
foot race by Hippomenes,

Ate, the goddess of infatuation, mischief and guilt,

Athamas, son of Aeolus and Enarete, and king of Orchomenus, in
Boeotia, SEE Ino

Athene, tutelary goddess of Athens, the same as Minerva,

Athens, the capital of Attica, about four miles from the sea,
between the small rivers Cephissus and Ilissus,

Athor, Egyptian deity, progenitor of Isis and Osiris,

Athos, the mountainous peninsula, also called Acte, which projects
from Chalcidice in Macedonia,

Atlantes, foster father of Rogero, a powerful magician,

Atlantis, according to an ancient tradition, a great island west
of the Pillars of Hercules, in the ocean, opposite Mount Atlas,

Atlas, a Titan, who bore the heavens on his shoulders, as
punishment for opposing the gods, one of the sons of Iapetus,

Atlas, Mount, general name for range in northern Africa,

Atropos, one of the Fates

Attica, a state in ancient Greece,

Audhumbla, the cow from which the giant Ymir was nursed. Her milk
was frost melted into raindrops,

Augean stables, cleansed by Hercules,

Augeas, king of Elis,

Augustan age, reign of Roman Emperor Augustus Caesar, famed for
many great authors,

Augustus, the first imperial Caesar, who ruled the Roman Empire 31
BC--14 AD,

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