nd's David--nor would he have Naismes de Baviere,
nor Turpin, "the chivalrous and undaunted Bishop of Rheims." He could
not afford to risk their lives, and Marsile was known to be
treacherous. Then he said to his peers:

"Choose ye for me whom I shall send. Let it be one who is wise;
brave, yet not over-rash, and who will defend mine honour valiantly."

Then Roland, who never knew an ungenerous thought, quickly said:
"Then, indeed, it must be Ganelon who goes, for if he goes, or if he
stays, you have none better than he."

And all the other peers applauded the choice, and Charlemagne said to
Ganelon:

"Come hither, Ganelon, and receive my staff and glove, which the voice
of all the Franks have given to thee."

But the honour which all the others coveted was not held to be an
honour by Ganelon. In furious rage he turned upon Roland:

"You and your friends have sent me to my death!" he cried. "But if by
a miracle I should return, look you to yourself, Roland, for assuredly
I shall be revenged!"

And Roland grew red, then very white, and said:

"I had taken thee for another man, Ganelon. Gladly will I take thy
place. Wilt give me the honour to bear thy staff and glove to
Saragossa, sire?" And eagerly he looked Charlemagne in the face--eager
as, when a child, he had craved the cup of wine for his mother's sake.

But Charlemagne, with darkened brow, shook his head.

"Ganelon must go," he said, "for so have I commanded. Go! for the
honour of Jesus Christ, and for your Emperor."

Thus, sullenly and unwillingly, and with burning hatred against
Roland in his heart, Ganelon accompanied the Saracens back to
Saragossa. A hate so bitter was not easy to hide, and as he rode
beside him the wily Blancandrin was not long in laying a probing
finger on this festering sore. Soon he saw that Ganelon would pay even
the price of his honour to revenge himself upon Roland and on the
other Douzeperes whose lives were more precious than his in the eyes
of Charlemagne. Yet, when Saragossa was reached, like a brave man and
a true did Ganelon deliver the insulting message that his own brain
had conceived and that the Emperor, with magnificent arrogance, had
bidden him deliver. And this he did, although he knew his life hung
but by a thread while Marsile and the Saracen lords listened to his
words. But Marsile kept his anger under, thinking with comfort of what
Blancandrin had told him of his discovery by the way. And very soon he
had s