with us.' 'Bring him,'
answered the King, and Blancandrin brought him into the orchard, where
the web of treason was woven.

'Noble Ganelon,' said Marsile, 'I acted foolishly towards you just
now, when, in my anger, I sought to strike you. Let me offer you the
mantle of marten fur in amends. It has just arrived from a far
country, and is worth five hundred pounds in gold.' 'I accept it
gladly,' replied Ganelon as the King hung the cloak round his neck,
'and may you be rewarded in as splendid a gift!'

'Ganelon,' continued the King, 'I wish you to be my friend, though it
will not be wise to show you openly my goodwill. Tell me about
Charlemagne, and whether what I have heard of him is really the truth.
They say he is very old, nearly two hundred years, and that he has
wandered from one country to another and been in the thick of every
fight, and has made the most powerful Kings beggars. When will he grow
tired of all these wars? It is time that he rested himself at Aix.'

'No,' said Ganelon, 'those who told you that Charlemagne was like that
did not speak truly. My tongue could never tell of his goodness and
his honour towards all men. Who could ever paint what Charlemagne is?
I would rather die than leave his service.'

'What you say is wonderful,' replied Marsile, 'but after all he has
done, will repose never seem sweet to him?'

'Not while his nephew Roland lives,' said Ganelon. 'There is not such
a fighter under heaven, and his comrade Oliver is famous also for his
prowess. The twelve peers whom the Emperor so dearly loves, with
twenty thousand picked men from the van of the army--truly Charlemagne
may rest in peace, and fear no man.'

'Fair lord,' answered Marsile, 'my subjects are the finest you can
see, and at any moment I can summon four hundred thousand men to give
battle to Charlemagne.'

'You will not conquer him this time,' said Ganelon, 'and in a fight
thousands of your soldiers would be killed. Hear my counsel. Send
Charles yet more gold and silver, and offer twenty other hostages, on
condition he returns himself to France, leaving his rear-guard behind
him. This, being the post of danger, will be claimed by his nephew
Roland, whose comrade Oliver is always by his side. It will be easy to
manage that the two Counts shall meet their deaths, and Roland and
Oliver once dead the King will have no more heart for war.'

'Fair lord,' replied Marsile, 'what shall I have to do in order to
kill Roland?'