iam Short Nose felt more glad than if he had been given
fourteen cities.

But no sooner had he entered a valley that led along the road to
Orange than he saw a fresh body of Pagans blocking one end. He turned
to escape into another path, but in front of him rode a handful of his
enemies. 'By the faith that I swore to my dear Lady Gibourc,' he said,
'I had better die than never strike a blow,' and so went straight at
Telamon, their leader, on his horse Marchepierre. 'William!' cried the
Saracen, 'this time you will not escape me.' But the sun was in his
eyes, and his sword missed his aim. Before he could strike another
blow William had borne him from his horse and galloped away on
Bausant.

The mountain that he was climbing now was beset with Infidels, like
all the rest, and William looked in vain for a way of escape. He
jumped from his horse and rubbed his flanks, saying to him the while,
'Bausant, what will you do? Your sides are all bloody, and you can
scarcely stand; but remember, if once you fall it means my death.' At
these words Bausant neighed, pricked up his ears and shook himself,
and as he did so the blood seemed to flow strongly in his veins, as of
old. Then the Count rode down into the field of the Aliscans, and
found his nephew Vivian lying under a tree.

[Illustration: VIVIAN'S LAST CONFESSION]

'Ah! my God,' cried William, 'what sorrow for me! To the end of my
life I shall mourn this day. Earth, do thou open and swallow me! Lady
Gibourc, await me no longer, for never more shall I return to Orange!'

So he lamented, grieving sore, till Vivian spoke to him. The Count was
full of joy to hear his words, and, kneeling beside the youth, took
him in his arms, and bade him, as no priest was there, confess his
sins to him, as to his own father. One by one Vivian remembered them
all, then a mist floated before his eyes, and, murmuring a farewell to
the Lady Gibourc, his soul left the world.

William laid him gently down on his shield, and took another shield
for covering, and turned to mount his horse, but at this his heart
failed him.

'Is it you, William, that men look to as their leader, and whom they
call Fierbras, who will do this cowardly deed?' he said to himself,
and he went back to his nephew's side, and lifted the body on to his
horse, to bury it in his city of Orange.

He had done what he could to give honour to Vivian, but he might as
well, after all, have left him where he fell, for in a fier