Ganelon bade the king good-by, and went on his way. But he said
to himself, "This is Roland's doings, and I shall hate him all my life
long: neither shall I love Oliver his brother, nor any other of the
twelve peers."

When he reached Saragossa, Ganelon was led into the presence of
Marsilius. The Moorish king sat under a pine tree, and twenty thousand
warriors stood around him.

"What answer bring you from your liege-lord Charlemagne?" asked he.

Ganelon had studied well what he should say; and he answered, like one
long used to cunning guile, "If thou wilt be baptized and become a
Christian, Charlemagne will give thee the half of Spain to hold in
fief. If thou wilt not accept this offer, then he will besiege thee in
Saragossa, and take thee prisoner; and he will send thee bound upon the
back of a sumter horse to Aix, and there he will have thee put to
death. This is the message which Charlemagne sends thee."

Great was the anger of the Moorish king, and he raised his javelin to
strike the messenger dead. But Ganelon, no whit daunted, set his back
against the trunk of a tree, and drew his sword part way from its
scabbard.

"Good sword," said he, "thou art fair and bright, and thou hast done me
many a service. Never shall it be said that Ganelon died alone in a
strange land."

But the courtiers of King Marsilius stepped in between them. "It were
better," said they, "to treat with this man than to slay him. If his
face slander him not, he is a man who may be persuaded to help us. Try
him."

Then Marsilius called Ganelon to his side, and offered him five hundred
pounds of gold for his friendship. And the two sat long together, and
plotted bloodshed and treason.

"Indeed, what think you of this Charlemagne?" asked the Moor. "Through
how many lands has he carried that old body of his? How many scars are
there on his shield? How many kingdoms has he stolen, and how many
kings impoverished? Methinks that his days are well-nigh spent. He
must be more than two hundred years old."

But Ganelon, although a traitor, would say naught against the king.

"None can see him," said he, "but will say that he is a man. None can
so praise or honor him, but that there shall yet be in him more worth
and goodness."

"Yet, methinks," said the Moor, "that he is very old. His beard is
white; his hair is flowered. It is strange that he grows not tired of
fighting."

"That he will never do so long as Roland, his n