THE CAPTURE OF ORANGE

How Sir William was stirred by the Spring

ATTEND, MY LORDS! God bless you all and each,

St Mary’s Son, Whose glory is supreme!

I’d like to sing a song of gallant deeds –

Not high of hand or mad, outlandish feats,

The fruit of lies or otherwise unreal,

But those of men who conquered southern fiefs.

You know the men, if you have ever been

To Brioude, as you travel to Saint-Gilles,

Where you can see Sir William’s old shield,

10      With young Bertrand’s, his nephew fine and fierce .

No learned man, I think, will disagree,

Nor any text you’ll ever hear or see.

They all recall the famous fall of Nîmes,

How William subdued, without a siege,

Its lofty walls and marble halls a-gleam,

And how he won its palace and its keep.

But what about ORANGE, his greatest feat?

Not many men can tell you truthfully

How that was done and won – except for me,

20      Who learned the facts when I was young indeed:

How William, his face aglow with zeal,

Expelled the Moors who lived in Aumarie,

And those of Susce and those of Pincerny,

The Baudas Moors and those of Tabary.

And how he won and wed the city’s Queen

Orable, who was born of Pagan breed

And forced to wed King Teebo an emir,

But turned to God, and in her Christian years

Built abbey-halls and churches for the Creed.

30      Not many know this gem of history!

 

ATTEND, MY LORDS, you good and gallant knights,

And hear a song that’s from the life and times

Of William, who took Orange for Christ,

And for himself a clever southern bride

Whom King Teebo the Moor had made his wife.

What hungry days and heavy, sleepless nights,

And painful blows our hero would abide

Before he won Orable’s heart and mind!

 

THE MONTH WAS MAY, when summer’s tender gaze

40      Turns meadows green and spurs the woodland-spray.

When birds a-wing sing out with sweeter lays

And rivers run with gentle streams again.

Count William woke up, on such a day,

And went to Mass, to listen and to pray.

When this was done, he left and made his way

To Otran’s hall, that southern Pagan knave

Whose city-walls the Count’s prowess had claimed.

There, as he leaned against a window-frame,

He looked around and down on his domain:

50      He saw the fields, the roses flushed with May,

And heard the thrush and blackbird’s lusty lays.

At once his mind recalled the happy days

He used to spend in France before he came.

He called Bertrand: “Come here, good nephew, pray!

On leaving France, our plans were poorly laid!

We brought along no bard to sing or play,

Nor any girls to keep us entertained!

We’ve steeds galore and speedy destriers,

And golden helms and sturdy coats of mail;

60      We’ve cutting swords and shields of every shape,

We’ve racks of spears, their iron strong and straight,

And stacks of wine and bread and meat and grain –

But, curse the Moors, our stores are all a waste

If all we do is sleep and rest and wait

For them to come in arms across the waves

So each of us can prove his valour’s rate!

This waiting here is driving me insane!

We’re stuck inside this city and its gates

Like prisoners inside a giant jail!”

70      He grumbled – but he shouldn’t have complained:

Before the sun had set that very day

He’d hear some news and such a sorry tale

That all the blood would simmer in his veins!

 

COUNT WILLIAM was at his open window.

Some sixty men from lovely France were with him,

Dressed, every one, in spotless ermine trimming,

Cordovan leather shoes and silken breeches.

Young falcons sat upon the wrists of fifty.

Count William was light of heart and spirit

80      As, looking down the sloping ground, he witnessed

The luscious grass and roses flushed with springtime,

The oriole and blackbird’s lusty singing.

He called Bertrand and Guielin, his kinsmen,

His nephews dear, to see and hear it with him:

“My noble knights and true, just look and listen!

Not long ago we left our northern kingdom:

If we had brought a thousand maidens with us,

From France’s wealth of beautiful young women,

What pleasure in our leisure they’d have given

90      The nobles here, and me as well! God willing,

I’m not averse to flirting or to kissing!

We’ve all we need in horses and equipment –

Our helmets glow, our sturdy hauberks shimmer.

Our shield s are stout, our lances sharp and limber.

We’ve cutting swords with hilts of shining silver,

And bread and wine, and salted meat and millet –

But, damn you, Moors, what use are our provisions

If you refuse to sail your forces hither?

My will to wait has over-spilled its limit,

100     And I am bored when honour’s not for winning!”

He grumbled on, but showed a lack of wisdom:

Before the sun had glowed its final glimmer

He’d hear some news of tyranny so wicked

It set the blood inside his veins a-simmer!

 

AGAINST THE WALL and windowsill he leaned.

One hundred men were with him there, at least,

Dressed, every one, in spotless ermine-fleece.

He watched the Rhône that flowed below and reached

Beside a road approaching from the East,

110     When, suddenly, a figure cleft the stream:

One Gilbert of Lenu – an escapee!

Three years before this man had tried to keep

A bridge from Pagan hands, but had been seized

And taken back to rot in Orange keep.

But, then, at dawn, one morning bright and clear,

It pleased the Lord to set his servant free:

His warden there had loosed him from his leash,

To lather him with taunting and with weals.

Sir Gilbert, though, had had enough, and seized

120     The Pagan’s hair, then, forcing him to kneel,

Had used his fist to strike a blow so fierce

It broke the neck and backbone of the fiend,

And flung him dead before Sir Gilbert’s feet.

Through window-bars he’d made his way beneath

And raced away beyond their evil reach.

He hadn’t stopped until he’d got to Nîmes.

The barons there were talking fun and feasts,

When Gilbert told a story that would lead

Count William to sighing more with grief

130     Than from delight at night between the sheets!

 

COUNT WILLIAM was at his window high.

The wretch below had cleft the Rhône and climbed

Across the hills and down the valley-sides,

Not stopping once until he had arrived

Inside the town, whose gates were open wide.

He found the Count beneath a leafy pine,

Together with a band of gallant knights.

Beneath the tree, for everyone’s delight,

A minstrel sang a lay of ancient times,

140     A lovely song the Count had always liked,

As up the steps Sir Gilbert came in sight.

Count William looked up and met his eye:

He saw a man whose tan had lost its shine

On wasted flesh, and one whose hair was wild.

He thought at first some Pagan had contrived

To cross the sea and paid a heavy price

For bringing news and seeking some reply.

But then the Count was greeted in this wise:

“May God the Lord, Who gives us wheat and wine,

150     And from the sky lights up the day and night

So man can walk in God’s Eternal Light,

Save William Short-Nose, the best of knights,

The flower of France; and may He bless alike

The men I see assembled here to fight.”

“God bless you too, my friend!” the Count replied:

“But tell me, sir, without delay or lie,

Who tutored you to know my face on sight?”

“You’ll hear the truth, my lord,” the stranger sighed:

“A prisoner I’ve been, too long confined

160     Inside Orange, whose cage I couldn’t fly

Until there came a recent day when Christ

Provided me with means to end my plight!”

“All praise to Him!” said William the wise:

“But tell me now, without delay or lie,

Your given name and native land, sir knight.”

“You’ll hear the truth, my lord,” the stranger sighed,

“But I am worn from half a week of flight.

I haven’t slept or even shut my eyes,

Nor supped at all, nor sipped a drop of wine!”

170     “You surely shall!” Count William replied,

And called at once his steward to his side:

“Supply this man with all that he desires

To eat and drink of bread and ale and wine,

Of heron, crane and peppered peacock-pie!”

The steward did as William advised,

And when the man had drunk his fill and dined,

He sat before the Count in better mind

To tell the tale of how he had survived.

 

COUNT WILLIAM observed the stranger’s face,

180     And asked him first, before he told his tale:

“Where were you born, my friend? Which land or place

In France? And what, I pray you, is your name?”

Sir Gilbert said, whose visage shone again:

“My father is Duke Guy of the Ardennes.

He holds Artois and Vermandois the same.

When I was bound for Burgundy one day

From Germany along the Lausanne Lake,

A wind blew up that grew into a gale

And drove me on to Port Geneva’s bay.

190     Then on the Rhône a crew of Pagans came

From Port Orange and hauled me to its jail.

The fortress there is past compare I’d say:

Its walls are high, its towers widely spaced.

Its hall is huge and all its wards ornate.

A thousand score of Pagans it contains

With seven score of Turks well armed and trained

To guard Orange each moment of the day.

They live in fear of Louis and the raids

That you, my lord, and more may undertake.

200     Prince Arragon, the city’s magistrate,

Is Teebo’s son, the great emir of Spain,

Whose wife, the Queen Orable, I vouchsafe,

Is fairer far than any Northern maid!

She’s beautiful! Such slender hips and waist!

Such tender skin, as white as meadow-may!

Alas for youth and beauty gone to waste

In ignorance of God and Christian grace!”

“In truth, Orange is an imposing place,”

Said William, “and, by the Lord I praise,

210     I’ll never lift a shield or lance again

Until I’ve seen this treasure it contains!”

 

COUNT WILLIAM was sitting by the Northman

Upon a marble step, to hear his story.

Before he did, he asked the fellow, warmly:

“My gallant friend, you speak with the assurance

Of noble birth: they didn’t jail you, surely?”

“They did indeed, for three years and a fortnight.

I couldn’t find or fight my way from thraldom

Until at dawn, one bright and sunny morning,

220     God sent the haughty Moor whose one employment

Was flogging me each day for his enjoyment!

But on that day I seized him by the forelock

And rabbit-punched the villain so adroitly

I broke his neck, his collarbone and jawbone!

I clambered through a window of the fortress

And made away before the others saw me!

I fled towards Beaucaire, where on the water

I saw a band of Turk and Persian forces

With Arragon, the eldest son and Warden

230     Of all Orange for King Teebo the warlord.

He’s big and strong, his limbs are long and brawny,

His brow is wide and wears a frowning forehead.

His hands are huge, his nails are long and pointed.

Beneath the sky no lord’s so high and haughty:

With every breath some Christian death he orders.

If any man could take his town and fortress

And put to death this haughty villain also,

The booty gained would well be worth the toiling!”

 

SAID WILLIAM the brave: “Good brother, friend!

240     Is fierce Orange as fine as you have said?”

“It’s finer far, in truth,” Sir Gilbert said:

“If you could see the fortress for yourself,

How tall it is, with walls so highly set

That looking up’s enough to break your neck!

If you were there when summer comes again,

You’d hear the sounds of fledglings in the nest,

Of hawks in mew and falcons overhead,

Of neighing steeds and braying mules, as well

As countless Moors enjoying joust and jest!

250     You’d sniff the sweet and aromatic smells

Of cinnamon and spice laid end to end!

And you could see Orable in the flesh,

King Teebo’s wife, so fair of hair and head:

You’ll never find her peer for loveliness

In Christendom or any Pagan realm!

Such tenderness! Such slender hips and legs,

And falcon’s eyes, so bright and so intense!

Alas for youth and beauty so misled

In ignorance of God and His largesse!

260     How fine a place she’d make a Christian bed

For somebody who’d save her soul from hell!”

“I swear by good St Omer,” William said,

“You praise her so, good brother, gallant friend,

That by the Lord, Who saves us all, I pledge

I’ll never lift a shield or lance again

Unless I win Orange and its Princess!”

 

“IS FORT ORANGE and what it guards so peerless?”

The captive said: “My lord, so help me Jesus,

If you could see the hall and all its reaches,

270     Its jousting-grounds and every vaulted ceiling

That Griffon built, a Moor from Almeria,

A Saracen of building-skills unequalled!

With golden paint its decoration features

Each flower grown from here to old Pavia.

And yet the bloom of this or any season,

Is still the one that’s grafted to King Teebo!

In southern lands Orable has no equal:

Her neck is such a slender and a sweet one,

Her face as fair as meadow-may, believe me,

280     With laughing eyes that dazzle all that meet them.

Alas for youth and beauty lost to evil,

In ignorance of God and our Lord Jesus!”

Said William: “Your praises shall redeem her!

I swear, by every lover’s bounden fealty,

I’ll eat no salted meat or bread that’s sweetened,

Nor drink of wine except the vine in season,

Until I’ve seen Orange as you have seen it,

Its fortress and the treasure that it’s keeping –

The noble Queen, Orable. For, believe me,

290     So fierce a love is urging me to seek her

I can’t begin to tell or quell the feeling!

I’ll wilt away unless I win this creature!”

The captive said: “My lord, you’ve lost your reason!

If you could breach the city’s fort and reach her,

You’d still confront a mighty guard of heathens!

What makes you think that you could ever leave there

Alive with her? You’d both be dead by evening.

The thought is mad! Forget it, I beseech you.”

 

COUNT WILLIAM, when he could hear the terror

300     That filled the voice of Gilbert till it trembled,

Called all his men and said to the assembly:

“My worthy knights, advise me at you pleasure!

This man has praised Orange and made me jealous!

I’ve never been to see this southern centre,

But know the Rhône between is full of perils –

Or else I would have seized the place already!”

The captive cried: “The thought is mad! Forget it!

“You have the Rhône and everything against you!

And even with a hundred thousand Frenchmen

310     Equipped with gilded shields and shining weapons,

As soon as you appear on the offensive

You’ll lose a thousand swords to their defences,

With saddle-girths and bucklers just as many.

Before you reach the city gates, I tell you,

Your vanguard troops already will have perished!

The thought is mad! I wish I’d never said it!”

 

SAID WILLIAM: “Your logic drives me mad!

You tell me first no king or baron has

So fine a town, but blame me out of hand

320     For wanting then to see a place so grand!

By St Maurice, who rests at Amiens,

I order you to guide me there and back!

But we’ll forgo the use of horse or hack,

Of hauberks bright or helms from Amiens,

Of Poitou spear, of buckler-shield or brand,

And dress ourselves in beggars’ hairy rags!

You speak the tongues we need, and understand

These southerners, these Bedouins and Basques!”

Imagine how the captive felt at that!

330     He wished he’d fled to Chartres or to Blois,

Or Paris to the North, in Louis’ land,

Or anywhere, except to where he had!

 

COUNT WILLIAM was full of anger’s heat.

His nephew Bertrand rose and made to speak:

“Good uncle, let this mad obsession be!

For even if you managed first to reach

The Pagan hall and blend with all convened,

They’d recognise your laughter and your speech,

And know you’d come to spy upon their deeds!

340     They’d haul you back to Persia then, and eat

No sweetened bread but you instead, my liege!

They won’t delay, they’ll add you to their feast

Or throw you in some stony cell and leave

Your bones to rot forever, or at least

Till the return of Teebo their emir,

And Desramed and Golias of Beel,

Who’ll deal with you as cruelly as they please!

If woman’s love brings William to grief,

Then all your land will curse the day and year

350     You ever laid your eyes on such a queen!”

Said William: “I care not in the least,

For, by the saint that’s honoured in Galice,

I’d rather die than break my word to eat

No sweetened bread nor any salted meat,

Or drink of wine except the season’s least,

Until I’ve seen Orange the same as he,

And Gloriette, the marble tower that keeps

So marvellous and fine a queen from me!

Desire for her has gripped me like a leech,

360     And lovers’ blood’s as hot as hot can be!”

 

COUNT WILLIAM grew restless with desire.

His nephew Bertrand rose to check his stride:

“Good uncle, do you want to shame your life

And perish hacked to pieces and reviled?”

“I’m not afraid of that!” the Count replied:

“A lover’s blood is like a raging fire!

No man alive will ever change my mind,

No fear of death or fate that might arise!

I want to see Orange with my own eyes,

370     And her whose face and grace are so admired!

Desire for her has gripped me like a vice:

I cannot rest by day or sleep at night,

I cannot eat or drink, I cannot ride,

I cannot arm for any other fight,

Or go to church, when I am held so tight!”

On saying this, he had some ink combined

With other herbs he knew would do to dye

His body black, and used it left and right

Upon himself, then asked the northern knight

380     To do the same – who warily obliged.

They really looked like sooty Satanites!­

“By good St Richier,” Guielin cried,

“I have to say you’ve altered out of sight!

You really could go anywhere you liked

Without a fear of being recognised!

But, by the Pope, I swear I’d rather die

Or have my body racked or hacked awry

Than fail to vie or venture at your side!”

He dyed his skin as well, and so disguised,

390     All three of them had done the best they might.

They took their leave and left their town behind:

Young Bertrand cried: “Dear God of all that’s right,

How easily we mortals are beguiled!

How rapidly and madly we decide

Upon a course that could destroy our lives,

Without Your grace to guard us and to guide!”

2. How William met Arragon the Warden

SIR WILLIAM, his gallant face aglow,

Could hardly wait, and started down the road

With Gilbert of Lenu and Gui the bold.

400     Young Bertrand stayed and sadly watched them go.

Beneath Beaucaire the trio saw the Rhône

And cautiously set forth upon the flow.

They rowed across with deft but doughty strokes,

Then crossed the Sorgue, without a barque or boat.

Through Avignon, with firm intent and bold,

They reached Orange, its mighty walls, its moats,

Its lofty hall and citadel aglow

With shining domes and eagles cast in gold.

Within they heard the city’s din, composed

410     Of nesting-birds and hunting-birds in moult,

Of neighing steeds and braying mules, and folk

Inside the fort cavorting high and low.

And everywhere the heavy fragrance rose

Of cinnamon and spice in many bowls.

Said William: “I swear upon my soul,

This city is as fine as I was told!

Its ruler is a wealthy man, I know!”

On saying this, the three of them approached

The porter’s lodge, where Gilbert called and spoke

420     The local tongue in very courtly tones:

“Please let us in, good porter, nothing loath,

For we are three interpreters who go

To many lands in service of Teebo.”

“I’ve never heard of you!” replied the rogue:

“And how should I interpret cocks that crow

Before my lord has risen or has robed?

Until he has, this gate is staying closed,

For we’re afraid of William Short-Nose,

Who captured Nîmes by such a cunning stroke!

430     Stay there until I let the Warden know!

I dare not let you in here on my own.”

“Then go at once,” said William the bold,

“With every haste! The Devil take the slow!”

So off he went, the porter, and bestrode

The marble steps to Arragon’s abode.

He found the prince beneath an arch of stone,

His Saracens around him in repose.

The porter said, in most respectful tones:

“My lord, I think there’s something you should know:

440     Three blackamoors are at my gate below,

Who say they serve your father King Teebo.”

“Then let them in, good brother, nothing loath!

I’ll ask them how my father’s journey goes,

And what it is that still delays him so.”

So back he went, the porter, to unbolt

His heavy gate, at which our heroes strolled

Inside Orange as freely as they chose!

Escaping there would take a greater toll:

Before they did they’d pay a wealth of woe!

 

450     SIR WILLIAM strolled right inside the city,

With Guielin and gallant-hearted Gilbert.

They’d dyed themselves so well with inky pigments

They looked just like those southern heathen villains!

Along the street a couple even whispered

In native tongue, as they observed the trio:

“These men have come from Africa to give us

Good tidings of our monarch and his mission!”

Count William kept walking and continued

Until he reached the palace of King Teebo.

460     Its walls were made of marble, and its windows

And pillars too were finely grained with silver.

A hawk of gold spread massive wings, forbidding

The gusty wind or lusty sun within it.

Said William: “As Jesus is my witness,

I’ve never seen so fine a fort as this one!

Its lord must be the richest ruler living!

I wish to God, Who made all men and women,

Good Bertrand now, my paladin, were bringing

Ten thousand French behind us, strong and willing.

470     The Moors would know their happy days had finished:

Upon my own I’d slay a hundred swiftly!”

On saying this, he reached the very pillar

Where Arragon and all his lords were sitting:

They’ll slaughter him, unless he can outwit them!

I’ll tell you now just how he tried to trick them:

He said: “My lord and Warden of the kingdom,

We greet you in the name of our religion!”

The Prince replied: “Come forward, and deliver

Your journey’s gift, but tell me first the giver!”

480     “Your father – deep in Africa!” said William:

“When yesterday, as soon as dawn had risen,

We entered Nîmes, that strong and worthy city,

We thought to see King Otran with his kinsmen

King Synagon and Harpin – but we didn’t!

Count William had led a French contingent

Inside the town and slaughtered all within it!

When we arrived, he tossed us into prison!

But he’s become so popular a figure

His guard is down, and we escaped the villain,

490     I don’t know how, Mahomet curse the Christian!

Said Arragon: “This man is my affliction!

I tell you all, as Mahom is my witness,

If he were here, and I had him in prison,

I’d torture him and turn him into cinders

For every wind to scatter willy-nilly!”

When this was said, our hero dropped his visage

And wished himself in Sens or Paris, swiftly!

He prayed to God with all the fervour in him:

“Almighty God, the Lord of all the living,

500     Who in the flesh was born as Mary’s Infant

In Bethlehem; Who knew the Magi’s visit,

But grew to bear the cruel Crucifixion

And wear the pain of blighted human vision:

When Longinus the Roman’s spear had pricked You,

You shed Your blood, like water, on his fingers

To flood his eyes and clear them in an instant!

As this is true, I beg You to have pity

Upon us too and guard us with Your spirit

From agony among these blighted sinners!”

 

510     INSIDE THE HALL Count William had come

In whispered tones, because of where he was,

He thus addressed his two companions:

“We’re trapped in here, with nowhere else to run,

Unless we’re shown by God enthroned above!”

Said Guielin: “Good uncle William,

My noble lord, you came in search of love:

Well, there’s the tower of Gloriette – so come:

Ask where the ladies are, and if they’re up!

Such gallant talk rolls glibly off your tongue!”

520     The Count replied: “My lad, that’s true enough!”

But then they heard the voice of Arragon:

“How long ago were you in Africa?”

“Most honoured lord, no longer than two months.”

“And did you see Teebo of Aragon?”

“Indeed, my lord, inside the town Valdun.

Embracing us, he cautioned you, his son,

To hold Orange and everything he’s won.

Where is his wife? May we behold her, once?”

“Indeed you may, my lords,” said Arragon.

530     “No fairer queen lives underneath the sun!

But now I need my father twice as much:

Our southern forts are being overrun

By William and nephews in his trust.

I swear by good Mahom and Tervagant,

If ever I can catch and lock him up,

I’ll roast his hide and have his ashes flung

Upon the winds to scatter into dust!”

On hearing this, our hero winced at once

And wished himself in Rheims or royal Laon!

540     He prayed again to God our Lord above:

“Dear Jesus, born of Mary’s flesh and blood,

Who saved from death itself St Lazarus,

Deliver us from such imprisonment

And agony as this man plans for us!”

 

COUNT WILLIAM had entered at his peril!

The Pagans called for water, then assembled

And sat at tables laid by their attendants.

Sir William and Guielin his nephew,

With lowered heads, spoke warily together,

550     In mighty fear of capture in their presence.

Prince Arragon received them well, however,

And saw them served with bread and wine a-plenty,

With crane and goose and peacock plump and tender,

And other foods too numerous to mention,

In quantities enough to surfeit any!

When everyone had wined and dined at leisure,

The tablecloths were cleared away directly

By cup-bearers, who brought the Pagans chess-sets.

Our hero heard the palace ring with pleasure,

560     And as its walls of coloured marble echoed

He saw its wealth of bird and lion frescoes:

“Sweet Lord,” he said, “Who bore the Cross’s penance!

Whoever saw a feasting-hall so splendid?

I wish to God, Whose Love is never-ending,

That young Bertrand, my paladin, were present

With armoured ranks of twenty thousand Frenchmen!

This very day we’d end the Pagan menace!

By my own hand some eighty Moors would perish!”

 

PRINCE ARRAGON called suddenly on William

570     To come and sit beside him by a pillar,

Where to his ear he drew him near and whispered:

“Speak truthfully and tell me, noble kinsman,

What sort of man is William the Christian,

Who captured Nîmes by trickery and killing

King Harpin and his brother in their city?

Did he indeed detain you in his prison?”

Said William: “The truth should not be hidden:

His wealth is such, in power and in riches,

He doesn’t care for shining gold or silver:

580     He set us free, with nothing asked or given,

Except our word, declared on our religion,

To tell you straight what he himself insisted:

That you must flee across the ocean swiftly!

The month of May, he says, will not have finished,

Before he’ll bring some twenty thousand with him

To hunt you down: no soaring fort or pillars

Will save you then, no mighty walls or ditches.

With iron rods he’ll hammer them and split them:

If you are caught, he’ll torture you and kill you,

590     Then hang you high for every wind to whip you!”

Cried Arragon: “Your words are mad and wicked!

I’ll send a man to Africa this minute:

My father there will come with all his princes –

King Desramed, and mighty King Golias,

King Corsolt and his brother King Aciris,

King Clarios and mighty King Atriblis,

Great Sorgalis, the Monarch of Egistra,

King Codruez and Mirman the Egyptian!

King Amiblez will breach the lofty billows

600     Of Sorgremont, with Salubris and Mirman,

And King Borrel, my uncle, and his children:

Some thirty kings of Spain will bring assistance,

A thousand score in every king’s contingent.

When all assault the Frenchman’s walls and ditches,

We’ll see the end of William the brigand:

His nephews too shall perish on the gibbet!”

On hearing this, the Count was truly livid!

Between his teeth he muttered, deep and grimly:

“By Jesus Christ, I swear you lie, you villain!

610     A thousand Moors shall lose their lily livers

Before you own the throne of Nîmes, my city!”

If William had been in arms that instant,

He would have struck the hall and all within it –

For naught at all could stall that hero’s spirit!

 

SIR WILLIAM was in the marbled keep:

“Prince Arragon,” he said, for all to hear:

“Allow me, lord, to see the noble queen

Who’s so adored by Teebo the emir.”

Said Arragon: “My father’s mad indeed,

620     For he is old, his whiskers white with years,

While she is young and beautiful – indeed

The fairest flower to spring from Pagan seed –

With lovers whom in Gloriette she meets.

She much prefers the Venice count Seguin,

A youthful knight whose beard is new and neat,

Who takes delight in fun and daring feats,

To King Teebo her husband and her liege.

How blind a mind that loves a maid can be!

She cuckolds him, and all but he can see!”

630     Our hero laughed, on hearing this revealed,

And said: “My lord, you love her not, it seems?”

“Indeed I don’t! I curse the air she breathes!

I wish she were a thousand miles from here

At Baudas in the realm of Aumarie!”

3. How William met Orable the Queen

SIR WILLIAM was in the Pagan fold,

Sir Gilbert too and Guielin the bold!

They crossed the hall and passed the Pagan rows,

Led forward by a Moor called ‘Ill-disposed’,

To meet the queen King Teebo cherished so.

640     They should have turned, instead, towards the Rhône

And back to Nîmes, as fast as they could go!

Unless the Lord, from His eternal throne,

Can light the way, they’ll curse their chosen road

Of dark dismay before the day has closed!

To Gloriette they came, the queen’s abode:

Its marble walls and pillars gleamed and glowed.

Its windows shone with silver, and the gold

An eagle shed, whose sculpted wings controlled

The flow of wind and glare of sun below.

650     Her room, in truth, was lovely to behold.

Upon one side, a single pine alone,

Of Pagan kind, with cunning care had grown

So wondrously it was itself a grove!

Its branches - which were many - overflowed

With blossoms ever flowering in shows

Of red and white and blue of indigo.

The queen’s affairs took place in there, I’m told,

Where fragrant air filled everywhere, composed

Of every spice and every perfume known.

660     And there she sat, Orable, on her throne,

In flowing silk, embroidered top to toe,

And every fold drawn artfully to show

The lovely form that lay beneath the folds.

A silver fan was cooling her, controlled

By Rosiane, a niece of Rubion.

Orable’s face was whiter than the snow,

With blushing cheeks like flushes on the rose.

On seeing her, the Count’s expression froze.

Then, greeting her, he said, in gracious tones:

670     “God bless you, queen, in Whom we set our hopes!”

“Come forward, lords,” she answered, nothing loath,

“In Mahom’s name, the lord of all below!”

She bade them sit upon a seat of stone

Set end to end with silver and with gold.

They couldn’t hide the wonder in their souls:

“It’s Paradise!” sighed William Bent-Nose:

“I never saw its peer,” his nephew owned:

“I’d gladly spend my life in here, you know!

I’d never want to leave if this were home!”

 

680     IN GLORIETTE, the palace of the queen,

Sat William, with Gilbert and Sir Gui,

Beside her maids, beneath their shady tree.

The queen herself, so fair of face to see,

Sat, lounging in an ermine-trimmed pelisse

That framed a silk drawn tightly to reveal

The lovely form that nestled underneath.

Count William was smitten then indeed!

He sighed and said: “It’s Paradise in here!”

“So help me God,” the gallant lad agreed,

690     “If this were home, I’d never want to leave.

I wouldn’t want to eat or fall asleep!”

The lovely queen turned straightaway to speak:

“My noble lords, what brings you here to me?”

Said William: “We’ve sailed across the sea

From Teebo’s land, your husband and your liege.

As, yesterday, the light of dawn appeared,

We three approached the lovely town of Nîmes.

We’d planned to see King Harpin and to greet

Both Synagon and Otran, kinsmen dear –

700     But William has slaughtered them, all three!

Then at the city’s gate we three were seized

And hauled before his presence in the keep!

But he’s so rich, in company and means,

He doesn’t care for ransom in the least

And let us go, with nothing sought in fee,

Except a pledge we swore upon our Creed,

To tell you straight what he himself decreed:

That you must flee with speed across the sea!

The April days, he says, will not have ceased

710     Before he’ll come with twenty thousand spears

To hunt you down. No soaring hall or keep

Will save you then, no wall or ditch between:

He’ll break them down with iron rods and steel.

If he should catch Prince Arragon the thief,

Your stepson, whom you cherish and esteem,

He’ll punish him with shameful death indeed:

He’ll roast his flesh or hang him in the breeze!”

On hearing this, Orable sighed with grief.

 

ON HEARING THIS, she sighed, in great alarm,

720     But then, at once, she looked at them and asked:

“My noble lords, I know the shade he casts!

What kind of man is William of France,

Who’s torn the walls and halls of Nîmes apart,

Who’s killed my men and threatens me with harm?”

The Count replied: “In truth, he’s very hard,

With mighty fists and arms to make you gasp!

No giant lives in all Arabia

Whose armour, let alone his bones, can last

A moment when the Frenchman’s blade is sharp!

730     His graven blade splits gravel, ground and grass!”

The queen replied: “How strong must be his arm!

By good Mahom, he’s worthy of his task!

How happy she on whom he’s set his heart!”

As this was said, a Pagan guard went past

That very soon would cause him more alarm

Than any he’d encountered in the past!

May God above defend him from afar!

 

IN GLORIETTE sat William that day,

With Gilbert too, and Guielin the brave,

740     Beneath a pine, beside Orable’s maids.

He talked at ease, till suddenly there came

A Pagan crowd, to gather round and gaze

Upon the guests and see them face to face!

God help him now, Who bore the Cross’s bane,

Or one of them will seal our hero’s fate!

Behold the knave! His name was Salatrez:

God rack his bones and crack his evil brain!

Count William had held him once in jail

At Nîmes itself, till one night he’d escaped

750     Along a shaft that hid and held him safe

From all pursuit until he’d got away.

He’d sworn revenge on William that day –

And took it now, without the least delay.

He bustled up to Arragon and laid

His lips against his ear and spoke in haste:

“In Mahom’s name, now here’s your chance for fame

And sweet revenge for all the bitter pain

I would have borne at Nîmes if I’d remained!

That haughty Moor, the one with most to say,

760     Is William Bent-Nose himself, the knave!

And by him sits his nephew young and brave!

The one behind, who holds the envoys’ mace,

Is he who fled our jail the other day!

They’ve come disguised to fool you and to take

This noble town for France’s King and Faith!”

“You’re sure of this?” Prince Arragon exclaimed:

“Don’t doubt me, sire!” replied the Moor, “I say

That’s William, who flung me into jail!

He would, I’m sure, have hung me, had the aid

770     Of strong Mahom not helped me to escape!

Today’s the day for William to pay!”

My worthy lords, for love of Him who lay

Upon the Cross, attend as I relate

How William was foiled by Salatrez!

The Pagan seized a cup of wine, inlaid

With finest gold, and threw it in his face.

The contents flew across his brow and bathed

The stain away to showed its proper shade:

A skin as white as summer flowers in May!

780     The Frenchman reeled, his senses in a daze.

His blood arose, then froze inside his veins!

He called, in thought, upon our Saviour’ name:

“Almighty Lord, immortal King of Grace:

In Mary’s womb You took on human shape

To save the souls of mortal men of Faith,

And bore, for us, a life of strife and strain,

Then, on the Cross, a death of pain and shame:

As this is true, forget me not, I pray,

And let me not be beaten down or slain

790     By such a band of heathen hands as they!”

4. How William fought in Gloriette

WHEN ARRAGON could see his man had told

The truth of their identity, he rose

Upon his feet and, facing them, he spoke:

“ Count William! Your name is too well known!

You’ll rue the hour you came across the Rhône!

I’ll see you die in agony, you rogue!

A fort of gold won’t save your brazen bones:

I’ll see you burn! I’ll turn you into smoke

And ashes whipped by every wind that blows!”

800     On hearing this, the fiery Frenchman glowed

And wished he’d gone to Rheims or Louis’ Laon!

Young Guielin could see their chance had flown,

And wrung his hands and tore his hair in woe.

Said William: “Dear God, the Lord of Hope

And Majesty, Who took on mortal mould

In Mary, and Who rescued from the throes

Of death itself St Lazarus, and old

Sir Daniel and Jonah long ago:

Who freed from sin the Magdalen and sowed

810     St Peter’s bones in Nero’s Field at Rome,

And brought St Paul inside the Christian fold,

Who up to then had been its cruellest foe,

But saw the Light upon Damascus road

And followed it henceforward ever bold.

As this is true, as truly we uphold,

Defend us, Lord, from being slain or slowed

By such a swathe of heathen knaves as those!”

He held a staff, a long and solid pole,

And, in a trice, he swung it high and smote

820     Old Salatrez, the villain who’d exposed

His trickery to haughty Arragon.

Count William delivered such a blow

It split his brains and splattered them below:

“Mountjoy!” he cried, “Come on, my gallant souls!”

 

COUNT WILLIAM set every Pagan roaring,

Except the corpse by Arragon the Warden!

On looking round, our hero saw before him

A mighty log brought in to heat the hallway.

With sweating brow, he swept his way towards it

830     And snatched it up; then swinging it and roaring,

Struck Batamez, who should have been more cautious!

The blow he gave that stupid knave was awesome:

It halved his head and half-a-brain to quarters!

Before his Prince the villain slumped in slaughter!

Then Gilbert swung the heavy mace he sported

At Quarré’s paunch and drove it in so staunchly

That like a spear from front to rear it launched him

And laid him dead against a marble door-post.

“Mountjoy!” he cried, “You gallant pair, go forward!

840     If we must sell our lives inside this fortress,

While yet we may, let’s make them pay a fortune!”

On hearing this, the Prince’s rage was awful:

“Arrest them all!” with ringing voice he ordered:

“By good Mahom, it’s you who’ll be the poorer!

I’ll cast you all beneath our deepest waters,

Or burn your bones and send your ashes soaring!”

“Keep clear of me!” young Guielin retorted,

“For by the saint they seek in Rome I warn you:

A flood of blood will flow before I’m cornered!”

850     He swung a club, his face a mask of warning,

As William, his log in hand, and also

Sir Gilbert with his metal mace, came forward.

What lusty blows those trusty arms afforded:

A dozen Moors were crushed at once to corpses,

And all the rest were so afraid and awe-struck

They fled instead through every door and portal!

Our gallant men locked every gate and doorway,

Then raised the chains upon the tower’s drawbridge.

God help them all, Who bore the Cross’s torment –

860     Sir William, his nephew and the Northman!

All three of them were trapped inside as surely

As rats upon a ship that’s left the shoreline!

Prince Arragon, and his indignant forces,

Without delay began to re-assault them!

 

THE SARACENS were very proud and fierce:

In hundreds and in thousands they besieged

Rich Gloriette with sharpened darts and spears,

While those inside fought gallantly to heave

Them from the walls to ditches underneath!

870     Fourteen or more were pitched that way, and he

Was luckiest whose neck was broken clean!

On seeing this, the Prince’s temper seethed

And overflowed in anger through his teeth :

With ringing voice his shout became a scream!

“Are you within, Count William, you fiend?”

The Count replied: “My lord, I am indeed!

So help me God, Who bore the Cross’s grief,

By my prowess I’ve found good shelter here!”

 

SIR WILLIAM, inside of Gloriette,

880     Looked down upon the Saracens and said:

“A curse on me if I’ll conceal my quest!

I journeyed here to spy on you, and yet

My trickery has met with such success

My sheep are in the fold of Gloriette!

If you’re to be our shepherd, tend us well

And you shall get what you deserve, I pledge!”

On hearing this, the Warden almost wept.

In angered pride he cried to all his men:

“My gallant knights, to arms! We’ll strike again!

890     Assault the walls with all your passion’s strength!

The man that takes Count William in check

Shall bear the flag of all my kingdom hence,

And fill his hands from my great treasure-chest!”

On hearing this, his men rejoiced and went

At once in search of arms that pleased them best

To smite the walls and William himself.

On seeing this, the Count forgot his jests

And prayed to God, the Magistrate of men.

 

SIR WILLIAM lost all his jesting spirit

900     In Gloriette, where now he was imprisoned

With Guielin and noble-hearted Gilbert,

As Pagan rage attacked and racked the building

With thudding spears and shiny, whining wyverns!

On hearing them, his anger almost tripled:

“What now?” he growled at Guielin, grim-visaged:

“We’ll never be in France again, our kingdom,

Nor see again our cousins and our kinsmen,

Unless the Lord is willing to assist us!”

Young Guielin the fair retorted swiftly:

910     “But surely you don’t care, good uncle William?

You journeyed here for love of lovely women –

And there’s the queen of Africa, more willing

And beautiful than any lady living!

So, go and sit beside her, at her pillow,

And place your arms around her lovely figure:

And don’t be shy of hugging her or kissing –

For by the saints besought of pilgrim-sinners,

They’re won’t be one embrace or kiss you give her

That doesn’t cost us twenty mines of silver

920     And doom our peers to years of fierce affliction!”

Said William: “By God, if you continue

To scorn me thus, I swear you’ll drive me witless!”

 

SIR WILLIAM lost all his jesting ways

In Gloriette, where now he was detained

With Gilbert and young Guielin the brave.

As Pagan might, below, attacked the gates,

Like gallant knights they kept their foe at bay

With any logs or tinder they could aim.

The Pagan queen, who watched the scene, exclaimed:

930     “My northern lords, surrender or be slain!

Their heathen hearts are burning with a hate

That won’t be stopped from rising all this way

And turning you to cinders in its flames!”

On hearing this, our hero roared with rage,

And, running up beneath her bower’s shade,

Addressed the queen with this request for aid:

“For love of God, Who bore the Cross’s bane,

Good Lady, give me armour and a blade!

If I survive, I swear by all the saints

940     That any loan will more than be repaid.”

The Lady wept at this, for pity’s sake,

Then, with a start, swept forward straightaway

Towards a chest she opened up in haste.

She seized at once a coat of burnished mail

And helm of green inlaid with golden plates.

With these in hand, she hurried back and gave

Them to the Count, whose gratitude was great.

He donned the coat and laced the helm in place,

While she herself laid swiftly round his waist

950     King Teebo’s sword, her Pagan husband’s blade

That all before had asked her for in vain –

Like Arragon, her step-son, who had claimed

And clamoured for the weapon every day.

Around his neck a sturdy shield she draped,

That bore in gold a crown and lion’s face.

Then in his hand she laid a spear that trailed

A gonfalon attached by golden nails:

“By God,” he cried, “I’m nobly armed again!

For Jesu’s sake, equip my friends the same!”

 

960     WHEN GUIELIN saw William so nobly

Equipped and armed, then he alike ran over

To hail the queen and tenderly invoke her:

“My Lady fair, by St Peter the Roman,

Equip me too to face this mortal moment!”

“How young you are!” the lovely Queen bemoaned him:

“If you survive, how bold you’ll be when older!

But you are loathed to death by all our soldiers!”

On saying this, she ran to fetch a hauberk

That Isaac made, a smith from Barcelona.

970     No blade as yet had ever laid it open.

To William’s joy she placed it on his shoulders,

Then laced a helm, engraved at Escalona

To grace the head of Babylon’s first Mogul.

No blade as yet had ever scathed its coating,

Or struck away the smallest gem it boasted.

The sword she girt was Torment of Valsona’s,

Before a thief in Valadonna stole it

And sold it on to Teebo at Vercona.

He paid the rogue a wealth of gold to own it

980     And win a land for Arragon, his oldest.

She girt it on, its fringes overflowing.

Around his neck she laid a shield, and loaned him

A lance whose name was ‘Lady of Valronna’:

Its head was fine, its body firm and golden!

So Gui was armed – and Gilbert followed closely.

In Gloriette the fight was far from over!

 

SIR WILLIAM, his nephew and the Northman

Were clad in arms and felt much gladder for it!

Sir Gilbert had a sturdy double hauberk

990     And helm of green with panelled reinforcements.

Around his waist they’d laced a cutting sword-blade

And placed a shield, the face of which was quartered.

But just before they found a lance-head for him

The Pagans charged so noisily towards them

They heard them there upon the stairs before them!

Count William attacked their leader Horbee,

While Gilbert ran at Maratan the porter,

And Guielin struck Turfier the warlord.

Not one of them was spared from instant slaughter:

1000   Nielloed spears, on piercing Pagan paunches,

Were split to bits and flew to every corner –

So then our men were forced to draw their sword-blades

And show the world how well they could employ them!

Count William unleashed his own and launched it

So lustily against a Turkish torso

It split him like an olive branch and sprawled him

In splintered bits upon the floral flooring!

Sir Gilbert met one Gaifier as warmly –

He stroked his head and gaily sent it soaring!

1010   And Gui, he just as dauntlessly came forward:

He thrust his shield and rushed his blade towards them:

And every wound his valour made was mortal!

On seeing this the craven Pagans faltered,

Then turned in fright and took to flight before them!

So then our men chased after them and slaughtered

Some fourteen more, then drove the rest, in torment,

From Gloriette through every Pagan portal!

Our heroes ran to block or lock each doorway,

Then turned a winch inside the royal fortress

1020   Which drew some chains attached and latched securely

On Gloriette to raise its mighty drawbridge.

Prince Arragon was livid when he saw it.

God help them now, Who is the Judge of all men!

 

COUNT WILLIAM, Sir Gilbert and Sir Gui

The gallant lad, were angry and aggrieved

To see themselves so bitterly besieged.

The Saracens hurled javelins and spears

And smote the walls with mallets made of steel.

Count William’s hot temper burned his cheeks:

1030   “What now,” he cried, “my gallant nephew Gui?

We never shall return to France the sweet,

Or greet again the brothers of our breed!”

But Gui replied: “Don’t waste your breath on me!

By all the saints they seek in Nero’s Field,

I’ll spend my own more meanly ere I’ll yield!”

On saying this, they leapt the steps that reached

The Moors below and struck their helms of green.

They split their chins, they hit their chests and cheeks

Till on the sand they’d landed seventeen –

1040   The luckiest with windpipes severed clean!

A shiver shook the bodies of their peers,

As they arraigned Prince Arragon, their liege:

“Arrange a truce! We’ll never break in here!”

On hearing this, the Warden raged indeed:

“They’ll pay for this!” he swore upon his creed.

 

THE WARDEN SAW his Pagans hanging back.

With ringing voice he hollered this harangue:

“You sons of whores! You craven, shameful pack,

You’ll never rule my fiefs or borderlands!

1050   Attack again with fiercer will than that!”

And so they did, those wretches; to a man

They hurled their spears and wyverns and they smashed

The walls again with iron rods and rams.

Count William’s hot temper spat like fat!

“What now,” he cried, “young Gui, my gallant lad?

We’re doomed to die in pain and shame, alas!”

But Gui replied: “Don’t waste what breath you have!

By all the saints in Rome’s Basilica,

I’ll spend my own more meanly while I can!”

1060   By now their spears were blunted, crushed or cracked,

So each of them seized eagerly the axe

Held out to him by Queen Orable’s hand,

And, thus, endowed, ran forward to attack:

Their axes fell on crimson shields and hacked

Away at chests, at faces, chins and chaps,

Till fourteen Moors, then more, were lying flat

Upon the floor in death or from collapse.

No three before had made so fierce a stand!

The Warden watched, till watching drove him mad!

 

1070   WHEN ARRAGON saw all his soldiers die,

He almost burst with sorrow at the sight!

With ringing voice, he raised his head and cried:

“Count William, where are you, wicked sprite

Of Aymeri, who rules Narbonne in pride?

Before you lose your blood and limbs alike,

Obey my will and you may save your life!

Leave Gloriette and all it has behind,

And go from here in safety and alive.

For, if you stay and won’t obey me, I

1080   Shall raise a blaze around the walls so high

That all of you will perish in its fire!

By great Mahom, I swear I do not lie!”

“Your words are wind!” Count William replied:

“There’s wine in here and bread and corn in piles,

And salted meat and clear and spicy wines.

We’ve helms of green and hauberks shiny bright,

And sturdy swords with silver hilts incised,

Good, heavy shields and lances – and besides,

We’ve ladies here just made for our delight!

1090   I’ll gladly stay until the day I die!

King Louis’ ears will hear of us in time,

My brothers’ too – Bernart, whose beard is white,

And fierce Garin, who rules Anseune in pride,

And strong Beuvon of Commarchis alike,

And young Bertrand, my nephew strong and wise,

Who’s still at Nîmes, in charge of all that’s mine.

Each one of these, as soon as he desires,

Can raise a force of twenty thousand knights.

And when they know the nature of our plight –

1100   Just where we are and how we are and why –

Their noble hearts will drive them to our side

With all the men their mustering can find!

No marble walls will save you from their might,

No splendid halls, however much they shine –

They’ll split them all, one thousand pieces wide!

And how you’ll pay if you should stay behind:

They’ll wring your neck by stringing it on high!”

The Warden heard till hearing drove him wild!

King Pharaon, beside him, spoke his mind:

1110   “My noble lord, you’re wasting precious time:

By great Mahom, what are we, men or mice?

Your father dear, both valorous and wise,

Has left you here to guard his town and wife,

The Pagan fort and Gloriette the fine.

And yet you’ve let three Christian rogues defy

Your regency and kill our kith and kind!

I swear to you, your name will be reviled

If you are slow to drive them out with fire!”

 

THE REGENT CRIED: “Advise me, by Mahom,

1120   How that can be achieved, King Pharaon!

The tower here’s as solid as a rock,

And Gloriette is stone from base to top!

Though every man alive from here to Laon

Should smite its bricks, they’d never break its bond!

And where could coal burn any hole, or lodge?

There are no beams or wooden seams to rot!

Bravado turned the key that freed its locks!

We’ll never oust these outlaws, by the gods!”

 

“KING PHARAON, my lord,” the Regent cried,

1130   “For Mahom’s sake, on whom we both rely,

Advise me now with counsel that is wise,

For Gloriette’s impossible to strike:

It’s set in rock and built of rock alike!

Though every man from here to Valois heights

Should hit its bricks, they’d never split it wide.

And where on it could fiery coal ignite?

There are no beams or wooden seams to fire!

Bravado turned the key that flung it wide!

We’ll never oust these outlaws from inside!”

1140   At this, a Moor called Orkanor arrived,

Whose beard was black, although his hair was white!

In Pagan need his acumen was prized.

With ringing tones he hailed the Regent thrice:

“Prince Arragon, attend to my advice!

But tell me first you’ll make it worth my while,

Should I reveal how William the knight

May, without fail, be held in jail tonight!”

“I will indeed!” Prince Arragon replied:

“I’ll give to you ten sumpters loaded high

1150   With Spanish gold if what you say is right!”

Said Orkanor: “Then swear without a lie

To keep your word, and I shall give you mine

To see it done, whatever it requires!”

“I give my word, and give it with delight.

You’ll have in full, whenever you desire,

The promised gold!” Prince Arragon replied.

Said Orkanor: “I give my word alike.”

 

SAID ORKANOR: “Fine lord, by good Mahomet,

There is a way to capture him, I promise!

1160   This glowing hall, I know, is more than solid,

With marble raised upon a granite bottom.

But Griffany of Aumarie, who plotted

Its grand design, planned cunningly to stock it

With passages beyond the common knowledge!

Beneath the ground I’ve found a tunnel crossing

Between the towers, whose entrance is a drop-stone.

So take yourself and fifty score along it!

While fifty more distract the French with volleys

From front and rear, your force can set upon them.

1170   Show William the wage of mortal folly!”

Said Arragon: “I will, by good Apollo!

And you, I swear, shall earn immortal profit!”

 

WHEN ARRAGON was told the ancient secret

About the way that lay there underneath him,

It thrilled his heart and set his pulses beating!

In helmets laced, he placed a thousand heathens,

While, front and rear, a thousand more repeated

Their fierce assault upon the French between them.

His party left with hasty steps and eager,

1180   Not stopping till they’d reached the vault and breached it.

With lanterns lit and candlelight to lead them,

The hidden Moors crept up upon our heroes,

Who never knew that they were even near them

Until they sensed that somebody had reached them.

Count William himself was first to see them:

“By Jesus Christ,” he cried, “our great Redeemer!

They’ll slay us now or pay us every evil!”

Said Guielin: “So help me, blessed Jesus,

I swear to you the lovely queen’s deceived us!

1190   A curse, I say, on heathens, male and female!”

 

COUNT WILLIAM heard Gloriette invaded

By haughty Moors, their voices wrought with raging,

And then he saw their helms and hauberks blazing:

“By God above,” he cried, “the Ever Faithful,

They’ll slay us now or evilly repay us!”

Said Guielin: “So help me, blessed Saviour,

I swear to you the lovely queen’s betrayed us!

A curse, I say, on heathen lords and ladies!

Today it seems, we three shall meet our Maker –

We have no peers or clansmen here to save us –

1200   But while we may, let’s show what we are made of!”

When this was said, our hero held his blade up.

With hate in heart, he dealt his first assailant

A backhand stroke that cleft him to his navel.

On seeing this, the Pagans, in amazement,

Held back at first, then stormed ahead to take him.

In self-defence, and honour’s cause, how bravely

Our gallant knights swung mighty blows against them!

The charge was great, but their response was greater –

They never fell till force of numbers made them.

1210   No fight before was finished half as bravely –

In self-defence they slaughtered thirty Pagans!

What use was that? They couldn’t have escaped them –

The Saracens, made up of many nations

From Africa, Arabia and Asia,

Stampeded them, arrested them and chained them.

The villains swore that vengeance would be taken

That very day for their humiliation.

5. How Orable saved William from death

SO WILLIAM was captured by deception,

1220   Sir Gilbert too, and Guielin his nephew.

In heavy hands the wicked Pagans held them

And swore an oath that promised speedy vengeance:

Within the town they ordered twenty tenants

To dig a trench both deep and wide for spreading

With tinder-wood and poles of timber, ready

To set ablaze and burn to death the Frenchmen.

But when the queen could see what they intended

She called at once on Arragon her stepson:

“My friend,” she said, “give me these foreign felons!

1230   In Gloriette I have a sombre cellar

Where loathsome toads will feed on them, together

With slimy snakes, their gorges filled with venom.”

“My Lady Queen,” Prince Arragon protested,

“Our present woe was started by your error,

Or madness, when you armed the French against us!

Mahomet curse the fool who’d let you meddle!”

On hearing this, Orable welled with temper:

“You harlot’s son,” she yelled, “you Prince of devils!

By good Mahom, whose chosen faith I cherish,

1240   I truly wish no other lords were present:

I’d punch your nose for daring to offend me!

I order you: be gone from here directly!

If you delay, I swear you will regret it!”

With rising gall, she cursed him, as he left her:

“Go, pestilence! Arrest the Frenchmen, pending

My lord’s return from Valdun town, attended

By Desramed and Golias his henchmen!

Let him and them enjoy revenge at leisure!”

“To that, agreed!” said Arragon her stepson,

1250   And took all three to throw them in his cellar,

Sir William, and Gilbert and his nephew.

Let’s leave them there, till time and I are ready –

For I have more about the Moors to tell you –

But never fret! I won’t forget the Frenchmen!

 

PRINCE ARRAGON was not prepared to wait.

He summoned forth his envoys straightaway

And sent them off without the least delay.

They reached the Rhône without a stop or stay

Then boarded ship, a galleon of state

1260   That Maldun of Nubia owned and sailed.

From fore to aft the craft bore silken drapes

That sheltered all on board from wind or rain.

With anchors weighed and rudder set they braved

The open sea and rowed while under sail,

To leave the town and reach the coast in haste.

They made the most of roving winds that day

That drove them straight to Almeria’s bay.

When sails were furled and anchors dropped again,

They mounted horse and galloped off in haste.

1270   They never stopped until at last they raced

Inside the town where Teebo had remained.

Dismounting there beneath the leafy shade

Of olive-trees, they reached the hall of state,

And found their lord, his courtiers and slaves.

They greeted him in Pagan wise and way:

“May good Mahom, who rules forever, save

And keep Teebo, the flower of his race!

Your noble son, of gallant force and face,

Beseeches you, through us, to bring him aid,

1280   For he has caught the son of that old knave

Lord Aymeri, who rules Narbonne today!

Young William, disguised, devised a way

To get inside your wealthy town and take

It, as with Nîmes – and, what is more, he aims

To woo your wife away from your embrace!

His evil plan was foiled, Mahom be praised,

But not before he had for seven days

Held Gloriette and her against our rage!

If we’d not found a vault beneath its gate,

1290   Whose entrance is a drop-stone deftly laid

Inside our fort, we’d never have reclaimed

Your lovely wife for you to hold again!

But she and we were rescued by our faith

In Lord Mahom! Sir William is chained

Inside a cell from which there’s no escape!

Come, punish him as cruelly as you crave!”

On hearing this, old Teebo laughed and hailed

The knights and men surrounding him that day:

“To arms,” he roared “and then to horse, I say!”

1300   Not one was loath – they leapt to both in haste,

Good Spanish steel and Magyar destriers.

When Teebo left from Africa again,

The Moors he took were Almerian slaves

And Syrian and Slavic renegades,

Whose van alone held sixty thousand blades!

They never stopped until they reached the bay,

And very soon they’d loaded ships of trade

With wine and meat, with biscuit and with grain.

When all was in, including them, they raised

1310   The sails aloft and, with the anchors weighed,

They sought and caught the roving winds to brave

The open sea and speed upon their way.

Their bugles blew, their horns began to play,

Their bears to roar, their dogs to bark and bay,

Their mules to bray, their destriers to neigh,

Their hawks to cry, on perches and encaged.

Their din at sea was heard a league away

For seven days and nights; but on the eighth,

Before they’d come to Port Orange again,

1320   Its Pagan lord would suffer loss and pain

The likes of which he’d never known, I’d say.

For he would lose and nevermore regain

His splendid town and splendid wife the same!

 

SIR WILLIAM was locked away between

Sir Gilbert and his gallant nephew Gui:

“Dear God,” he cried, “the King of Love, it seems

We’re doomed to die in agony indeed!

King Louis’ court knows nothing of our need,

Nor do the rest of my brave family:

1330   White-haired Bernart, Sir Garin of Anseune,

And bold Beuvon, the lord of Commarchis ,

And Bertrand too, my nephew fine and fierce,

Who, when we left, remained behind at Nîmes

With men galore, a thousand score at least!

What use is that? We need their service here!”

The answer wrought from handsome Gui was brief:

“But surely not, my lord, when love is near?

Why don’t you ask your pretty Pagan queen

‘For sake of love’ to slake her lover’s need?”

1340   Said William: “By Heaven, if you keep

On mocking me, you’ll kill what’s left of me!”

 

SIR WILLIAM was seething with despite.

Inside the cell both he and Gui alike,

And Gilbert too, bewailed their sorry plight.

And while they did, in sorrow out of mind,

Orable came, and when she looked inside

And saw the men, she said to them: ‘Sir knights,

Attend me well, for I would speak my mind!

The Pagans’ mood against you runs so high

1350   That you will hang tomorrow, or tonight!”

“There’s nothing we can do!” young Gui replied:

“What remedy, fine lady, can you find

To set us free and get us three outside?

If you succeed, I’ll be your man for life

And serve your will at any place or time!

Most noble queen, have mercy on our lives!”

Said William: “In truth, she must have lied,

To trick us here and trap us with her wiles!”

On hearing this, Orable heaved a sigh.

1360   AND THEN SHE SAID: “My gallant lords of France:

By good Mahom, your blame is falsely cast!

Inside my rooms I gave you shining arms,

And if you could have held the Pagan charge

Inside my walls till Louis, son of Charles,

And Aymeri, your father, and Bernart,

Lord of Brabant, and all your clan had marched

Against the town – if they had had the chance

To do this while the Moors were off their guard –

They could have won this border-town Orange

1370   And all around, each narrow, ford and pass!”

Said Guielin: “That’s true enough, I grant!

And if we three were not now where we are,

I’d serve your well until I breathed my last!”

“Upon my faith,” she answered with a gasp,

“If I could know that I’d be safe from harm,

And be the wife of William ‘Strong-Arm’,

I’d set you free, all three, and seek the path

Of Christian Light to lead me from this Dark!”

On hearing this, our hero’s spirits danced!

1380   “My fair,” he cried, “ I swear, on Peter’s Arch,

By God and good St James, that what you’ve asked

Shall, if I live, most surely come to pass!”

The Queen replied: “Then that is all I ask.”

She led them forth, unlocking, as they passed

Through block and floor, each door and bolted clasp.

Their steps were lithe and very blithe their hearts.

 

AND THAT IS HOW Orable saved the counts.

She wrought their liberty, then led them round

To Gloriette and brought them safe and sound

1390   Inside her room, where each was richly gowned

And served a feast of wine and fish and fowl!

And then it was the lovely queen announced:

“My noble lords, please listen to me now!

I’ve set you free from custody most foul

And led you here and fed you; yet, just how

You can escape still harrows me with doubt!

But here’s a thing for you to think about:

Below our feet there lies in shadows’ shroud

A tunnelled vault that no one knows about

1400   Except my ancestor who dug it out

To reach the Rhône through soil unknown to plough!

If you could send an envoy through it, bound

For your domains to reach Bertrand the count,

Then he could come and meet you underground

With all your men; and then, before the proud,

Benighted Moors had any sight or sound

Of their approach, your men could strike them down!

Their girded swords could win this border-town,

Each pass and ford and narrows all around!”

1410   Said William: “There’s much to gain, I vow.

But where shall such a messenger be found?”

 

SAID WILLIAM: “My nephew Gui, young hero!

Go forth to Nîmes! Let nothing halt or keep you!

Tell young Bertrand, your brother, that I need him

To bring me aid from every rank and region!”

But Gui replied: “Good uncle, I beseech you!

So help me God, I can’t believe you mean it!

For, by the faith I owe to good St Stephen,

I’d rather die beside you, fighting fiercely,

1420   Than crawl away to Nîmes or Aix, believe me!”

 

SAID WILLIAM: “Young Gui, my gallant nephew,

I bid you seek the vault below and enter!

Return to Nîmes! Let nothing here prevent you!

Tell young Bertrand your brother to assemble

What help he can and hasten here directly!”

But Gui replied: “Good uncle, no, I beg you!

I can’t believe you mean what you’ve suggested!

I’d rather fight beside you here and perish

Than crawl away to Nimes or Aix, God help me!

1430   Sir Gilbert’s here! Send off, I say, the Fleming!”

Said William: “And will you go, good fellow?”

The knight replied: “With loyal heart I’m ready

To do my part in sending out a message!”

“Then go, my friend! To Jesus I commend you!

On my behalf tell brave Bertrand my nephew

To gather aid and hasten to our rescue.

Unless he does, by God, you’ll have to tell him

We’ll never meet again this side of Heaven!”

 

WHEN GILBERT KNEW his part was due so swiftly,

1440   The worthy man began to have misgivings,

And doubted much his power to fulfil it!

“I’ve never been or seen below a city!”

The queen herself replied: “I’ll guide you thither,

And God Himself will light each path and pitfall!

So fear for naught that’s mortal-wrought, Sir Gilbert!”

On saying this, she lifted up and shifted

A six-foot slab of stone beside a pillar,

Then said again: “This step is your beginning!

You’ll find below a pathway that continues

1450   Till, in arcade, three columns mark its limit.”

So Gilbert stepped and started on his mission

To go below, not knowing how or whither!

Along the path Count William went with him,

As did the queen and Gui his gallant kinsman.

They all set out until they reached the pillars,

Where Gilbert strode alone straight through the middle.

He reached the Rhône, then found the boat they’d ridden,

And, dipping oars, slipped quietly downriver.

Count William turned back, and, turning with him,

1460   Went Gui and she the fairest-faced of women,

To Gloriette, where once again she hid them.

My worthy friends, it would have been much quicker

To head instead directly back to prison –

For, ever since they’d left the cells, a witness

Had watched and heard each little word they’d whispered.

And now he turned to pay his Prince a visit!

6. How William and Orable were separated

THE PAGAN SPY was very spiteful-hearted.

He’d heard them well, so went to tell his master,

On meeting whom this message he imparted:

1470   “Prince Arragon, I’ve knowledge that will startle

Your loyal heart, concerning Queen Orable

And those you thought were well secured and guarded!

Your stepmother has sprung the bolt that barred them

And led them back to her part of the castle,

Where even now they share in food and laughter!”

“Can this be true?” the angry Prince demanded.

“I do not lie, my lord,” the villain answered.

“I saw them there, inside the queen’s apartments,

In private talk and warm embrace thereafter!

1480   She loves them all, my lord, and she would rather

Bed William than King Teebo your father!”

On hearing this, the Warden’s visage hardened,

And, calling forth his faithful Moors he asked them:

“Advise me now, with counsel wise and hardy,

How I should act regarding fair Orable,

My stepmother, whose wicked ways and harmful

Dishonour me and shame my noble father!”

 

SAID ARRAGON: “My strong and worthy kinsmen,

For Mahom’s sake, take arms and armour swiftly!

1490   Before we’ve done, these wicked, cunning Christians

Will come to grief – and anyone who’s with them!”

His men replied: “We’ll gladly do as bidden!”

And off they ran, some fifteen thousand villains.

Alas indeed for William, unwitting,

As was the queen, and Gui the gallant, sitting

In Gloriette and playing chess, and thinking

With high content that they were safely hidden!

They heard or saw no danger to their vigil

Till with a roar the Pagans stormed the building.

 

1500   SIR WILLIAM sat underneath the pine-tree,

With Orable and gallant Gui beside him.

They heard or saw no threat at all arriving

Till with a roar the Saracens surprised them,

And, seizing wrists, tied flailing fists behind them,

And swore at once a swift revenge and final!

One Pharaon, who thought himself the wisest,

Addressed the rest: “Prince Arragon, your Highness,

Your father dear, emir Teebo the mighty,

Who left you here to guard this town and guide it,

1510   With Gloriette, his richest fort and finest,

Will weep to hear how villains have defied you,

Outfought your men and slaughtered southern knighthood!

Your noble name will not be worth the slightest

Unless you tear them limb from limb, and likewise

Redeem the shame of such a queen’s devising,

By spurning her and burning her entirely!”

But Escanor, his hoary figure rising,

Said: “Pharaon! Your speech is not a wise one!”

 

SAID ESCANOR, his hoary head uncovered:

1520   “King Pharaon, your show a lack of judgement!

You shouldn’t start upon a course of justice

You cannot stop at will once you’ve begun it.

Prince Arragon, let me suggest another!

Your father dear, of noble birth and courage,

Has left you here to guard his town from trouble,

And Gloriette, the fort of his beloved.

If you should burn his wife before his coming,

His love for you will turn to hate abruptly!

So wait a while! Cast all inside your dungeon,

1530   Orable too, your traitorous stepmother!

Send further men across the sea to hurry

Your father home, with Haucebier your uncle,

But let them choose how each is to be punished.”

The Prince replied: “You’ve spoken well, old cousin,

And in reward I’ll see you lack for nothing.

I have, indeed, already sent a runner

To the emir, my father, and his brother.

Within a week I trust they’ll be among us.”

At this, his men took William and flung him

1540   Inside a cell with gallant Gui the youngster.

Orable too they threw inside to suffer.

God help them all, Whose Judgement day is coming!

 

SO WILLIAM was slung inside a cell

With gallant Gui and Teebo’s wife as well,

Who cried and sighed, then sighed and cried again:

“Dear God above, Whose love can conquer death,

Alas for me, of baptism bereft!

I wanted so to be baptised and blest!

Sir William, alas the day I set

1550   My eyes on you and witnessed your prowess!

Because of you I’m hauled from Gloriette

And called a whore! God pity my distress!”

But Gui replied: “Your sighing makes no sense!

I should have thought so great a love would let

The pair of you find heaven in this hell!”

On hearing this, his uncle almost wept,

And swore with rage by good St James and said:

“If not for shame and other men’s contempt,

I’d knock the wind right out of you, you wretch!”

1560   But Gui replied: “That’s something you’d regret!

I couldn’t care who knows it now: I’ll tell

Each man I meet he’s not to call you hence

The ‘proud of arm’ but ‘prince of charm’ instead!

You hurried here upon a lover’s quest!”

On hearing this, our hero bowed his head.

 

SIR WILLIAM was angry and aggrieved

Inside the cell, held under lock and key

With Teebo’s wife as well as gallant Gui:

“Dear God above!” he sighed and cried, “How we

1570   Have been misled – and now we’re dead indeed!

How mad I was to carry out this scheme –

It’s brought us naught but lasting shame and grief!

God help us now, Who judges all and each!

The King, alas, knows nothing of our need,

Nor does Bernart, my brother white of beard,

Nor Lord Garin, the hero of Anseune,

Nor strong Bertrand, who stayed behind in Nîmes.

We need their help, or else our fate is sealed.”

“Good uncle,” cried young Guielin the fierce,

1580   “Don’t speak like that! You surely have no need?

Is Teebo’s wife, your ladylove, not here

For you to kiss and hug and snuggle near?

A fairer fate you couldn’t hope to meet!”

“You’ll drive me mad, by God!” his uncle screamed.

And when the Moors heard such a quarrel reach

Them from below, some forty rushed beneath

To throw the pair right out of there, and leave

Orable on her own, the courtly queen.

The pair was hauled before the Warden’s seat,

1590   Where Pharaon , with growing anger, screeched:

“Prince Arragon, you must attend to me!

Your father dear, our good and great emir,

Who left you here to govern and to keep

This lovely town, its fortress and its fief,

Will weep to hear how villains such as these

Could thumb their nose at your authority!

Your noble name will not be worth a bean

Unless you flay and slay them, to redeem

The shame and pain of his own wife’s deceit.”

1600   But when he heard these biting words, young Gui,

With rolling eyes, reared up and gnashed his teeth.

He bared his arms, and, rushing forth, he reached

His left hand round the Pagan’s head and heaved

His heavy right against the villain’s cheek!

He broke his jaw, and every bone beneath,

Then flung him dead before him at his feet.

On seeing this, the Count’s content was deep:

“Dear God,” he cried, “Who judges all and each,

We’ve had it now! Our death is guaranteed!”

 

1610   SIR WILLIAM beheld the Pagan’s fall:

“Dear God,” he cried, “Who judges each and all,

We’ve had it now! Our death has been assured!”

But Gui replied: “Don’t lose your heart, my lord!

You’re not without some allies in the fort!”

Said William: “In truth, their number’s small!”

The gallant Gui looked round him, and he saw

A mighty axe stood up against a wall.

He strode to it, and seizing it, employed

Its shining blade against a whining Moor.

1620   He split him through, like timber, to the floor!

On seeing this, this Prince’s anger boiled:

“Seize both these men – again!” the Pagan roared.

“I’ll splay their bones, I’ll flay them to the core,

Then in the Rhône we’ll fling them far from shore!”

But Gui replied: “Be gone from here, you fraud!

You gave the word that freed us from the vault

To lead us here and share your feasting-board!

By all the saints in Rome, I swear you’ve brought

A pair of guests whose fellowship will cause

1630   You more despair than ever you’ll afford!”

As this was said, two Saracens came forth,

Who by a pole were bringing wine galore

Inside a vat, that they were meant to pour.

But when they saw the flurry in the court,

They dropped the lot and scurried from the storm.

The Count, at once, retrieved the pole and launched

An avalanche of blows so cold and raw

Against the skin of those within its course

It froze the blood of everyone it caught!

 

1640   INSIDE THE HALL stood William the brave

And Guielin, whose courage was ablaze !

With swinging axe and slinging-pole they rained

Enormous blows on rows of Pagan knaves!

Fourteen or more they flattened straightaway,

And furnished scores with such alarm they chased

Them down the floors and out the palace-gates!

With bar and bolt they slammed those in their face,

Then raised the bridge upon its heavy chains!

The sight of this drove Arragon insane!

1650   He called upon his wisest men and wailed:

“Advise me now, for good Mahomet’s sake!

This William has robbed me like a knave,

And now he has my very hall of state!

I see no way of getting in again!”

7. How Orange was finally taken

LET’S LEAVE A WHILE the Warden as he raves,

And turn our thoughts to Gilbert once again,

Who, all alone, has crossed the Rhône and made

His way up hills and down again in haste

To get to Nîmes upon his quest for aid.

1660   Bertrand, within, arose at dawn of day

And climbed the tower the Moors before had claimed

In Otran’s time, whose heathen heart was brave.

The gallant count was leaning there to gaze

Upon the town and down its wide domains.

He saw the fields and roses flushed with May,

And heard the song the lusty thrushes made.

His mind at once recalled his uncle’s fate,

And little Gui’s, his brother bright and brave.

And when he did the tears ran down his face,

1670   And he began to grieve for them and say:

“Sir William, fine uncle, woe the day

That you set out to see Orange, arrayed

In vagrant’s clothes, your face and body stained!

How brave you were, young brother, all the same!

Now both of you, I’m certain, have been slain,

And I am left at Nîmes, bereft this way

Of any friend or kinsmen of my race

Whom I can ask for counsel or for aid.

And now the Moors will come this way again –

1680   The thirty kings who think they’ve conquered Spain –

King Golio and strong King Desramez,

King Clarius, his brother Acerez,

King Aguisant and strong King Giboez,

And the emir of Romant-on-the-waves,

King Eubron and King Borrel and Lorrez,

King Quinzepaumes and his brother Gondrez.

Each one will bring some thirty thousand knaves

And fight me here in Nîmes until they take

Both it and me by fee of number’s weight!

1690   They’ll torture me and maim me till I’m slain.

But I’m resolved on one thing, come what may:

A world of gold won’t stop me on that day

From breaking out with all the knights who came

With William to this benighted place,

And going back to France, our native place!

And when I come to Paris on the Seine,

I shall dismount upon the steps inlaid

With marble there, and all will stare and say:

‘Where’s William, whose valour is so great,

1700   And little Gui, your brother bright and brave?’

Alas for me! What shall I tell them, save

That in Orange the two of you were slain?”

On saying this, he fainted and he lay

Upon the ground, till rallied round and raised.

 

BERTRAND THE COUNT was stricken in his soul

For little Gui and William the bold,

Lamenting them in free and noble tones:

“Sir William, how rash of you to rove

With little Gui to see Orange alone,

1710   Your bodies stained and dressed in vagrants’ clothes!

My brother Gui, how brave of you to go!

The Saracens, I’m sure, have slain you both,

And I am left in Nîmes upon my own,

Bereft of kin and threatened by the foe!

And come they will – the Pagan Lord Teebo,

With Desramez and mighty Golio.

The thirty kings who think of Spain as home

Will challenge Nîmes with their assembled host.

They’ll torture me, then slaughter me, I know.

1720   But by the saint that pilgrims seek in Rome,

I won’t be stopped, for cities full of gold,

From going first to Orange on the Rhône!

I’ll seek revenge for all the loss and woe

Our family has seen and suffered so.

Ah, wretched me! Why have I been so slow?

I should have gone to face them long ago!”

 

BERTRAND THE COUNT was stricken in his mind.

But while he wept and filled the air with sighs,

1730   Sir Gilbert reached the fort at last and climbed

The marble steps to reach the hall inside.

How quickly then Bertrand began to smile,

And, in his joy, with ringing voice he cried:

“Most welcome back, you good and noble knight!

Speak up at once! Is little Gui alive,

And William, whose face with valour shines?”

Without a pause the honest knight replied:

“They are! Inside Orange itself, confined

To Gloriette, the fort of Teebo’s wife!

The wicked Moors surround them on all sides,

1740   And who’s to say how long they may survive?

Sir William sends me to bid you ride

And sail and march with every speed and might

At your command, to help him in his plight.”

How quickly then Bertrand began to smile!

With ringing voice around the hall he cried:

“To arms at once, you noble knights of mine!”

And all obeyed – at once they leapt astride

Their steeds of Spain and Syria alike.

When good Bertrand left mighty Nîmes behind,

1750   He took with him the total of his might:

The van alone held fifteen thousand knights,

Who never slowed until the Rhône was nigh.

On galleys there they boarded through the night,

Then sailed away and rowed against the tide

In fierce array until they all arrived

Before Orange, whose plain was long and wide,

And where they pitched their many tents in lines.

Bertrand the count was very keen to strike,

And when he saw the messenger he cried:

1760   “I need the truth, Sir Gilbert, noble knight!

Can we attack this city and divide

These hardy walls and marble halls inside?”

“Impossible!” the honest man replied:

“Though every knight in France were at your side,

You’d never take Orange in all your life.”

On hearing this, Bertrand was filled with spite.

 

“I NEED THE TRUTH, Sir Gilbert, worthy envoy:

Can we attack this noble town and sever

Its haughty walls and fortified defences?”

1770   “Impossible!” replied the worthy fellow,

“You’ll never hurt this hardy town, I tell you.”

On hearing this, the Frenchman shook with frenzy,

But Gilbert strove to temper his displeasure.

“My lord,” he said, “I’ve something good to tell you!

I know a way that you and more may enter

The fort itself, avoiding all attention!”

Bertrand replied: “Then lead the way, God bless you!”

So Gilbert did, who knew the way already.

While all the rest remained inside their shelters,

1780   He led the best, some thirteen thousand Frenchmen,

Toward the vault with no delay whatever.

Between the pair of pillars there they ventured

In single file, without a light to lessen

The darkness of the winding way they wended.

Bertrand the Peer expressed the fear of many:

So all could hear, he charged the worthy Fleming:

“Sir Gilbert, I demand the truth, God help me!

It’s my belief that William has perished

And you’ve conspired with Arragon against us!”

1790   “That’s craziness!” the worthy man protested:

“I swear, by God, I’d never play the felon!

This passage leads to Gloriette directly:

Just follow me and trust in me, I beg you!”

Bertrand replied: “Our common faith commends you.”

So, on they walked, and talked, until they entered

The fort itself, then Gloriette the splendid,

Where William rose up at once and met them.

He cried aloud: “Praise God the Lord of Heaven!

At last the way I’ve sought so long has beckoned!”

1800   The gallant knights, at once, took off their helmets

And, in embrace, wept tears of joy together.

Bertrand the count addressed his uncle gently:

“My noble lord, are you in health and temper?”

“I’m hale and whole, thank God above, good nephew,”

The Count replied, “though I’ve had pain a-plenty!

My visit here has been so full of perils

I thought I’d seen the last of you forever!”

His nephew cried: “I swear we shall avenge you!”

In Gloriette he blew a horn to beckon

1810   His men in camp, who armed themselves directly.

Sir William, inside, was brave and ready:

He dropped the bridge and, straightaway descending

Towards the gates that kept the town defended,

He flung them wide with all his strength and temper.

The French outside rushed in to find their fellows,

And when they did they cried ‘Mountjoy!’ together,

That cheer of Charles that makes the heathens tremble!

They snatched their arms, they grabbed for any weapon,

Then, dashing forth from every lodge and dwelling,

1820   They struck as one to save the town they cherished.

But all their pluck availed them not a penny,

For they were up against too many Frenchmen,

Who seized the town as young Bertrand attempted

To storm the fort that soared towards the heavens!

The fighting there turned twice as hard and heavy:

So many coats of Eastern mail or leather,

So many shields, so many spears were severed,

So many Moors in streaming gore upended!

When Arragon saw all his people perish

1830   His grief was such it robbed him of his senses:

He leapt astride his battle-steed and steadied

The solid shield he’d conquered from a Frenchman.

He stared around and found a gleaming weapon

That, bending down, with both his hands he hefted.

His charger reared as rowels speared its belly

And veered it forth towards the vicious melee.

He slew at once Foucher, the duke of Melans,

And then two more in his enormous frenzy.

On seeing this, Bertrand was driven senseless.

1840   He drew his sword, a blade with razor edges,

And struck the Moor with all his strength and temper.

The blow he gave was made with such resentment

It slit the Moor, it cleft him to the breastbone

And flung his soul to Satan’s hold forever.

His fighting men surrendered then – or perished.

8. How William wed Orable

WHAT GOOD IS DONE by spinning out a tale?

The Pagans stopped, and those who didn’t paid

The price in blood, sent flooding from their veins.

Sir William himself went straightaway

1850   To Fort Orange and freed from Teebo’s jail

The southern queen, so fair of form and face.

When this was done he hailed Bertrand again:

“Fine nephew mine, attend to what I say!

This Lady here, so dear to me, has saved

My mortal life from ending in this place!

And I have pledged to her, upon my faith,

That she shall be my wife, in Jesu’s name.”

Bertrand replied: “Then why do you delay?

Uphold at once the promise you have made!

1860   Take what you want with happy joy today!”

Said William: “Your will I will obey!”

 

SIR WILLIAM was valiant and courtly.

When force of arms had won the town, he ordered

His men to bring a mighty barrel forward

And fill it up with fresh and fragrant water.

Bishop Guimer of Nîmes stood there before it.

When Teebo’s wife had shed her clothes they brought her

And plunged her in, to make her soul immortal.

Her limbs were held by little Gui and also

1870   By brave Bertrand and Gilbert from the northland.

They took away her Pagan name that morning,

Baptising her for Christ the Lord as Guibourc.

Inside a church re-sanctified according

To Christian Law instead of Pagan glory,

Our hero led and wed her at the altar.

A Mass was sung at Bishop Guimer’s orders,

And after that they left the chapel, walking

To Gloriette, the Lady’s former quarters.

How fine a feast they held inside the fortress!

1880   Bertrand the count served both of them, supported

By gallant Gui and Gilbert from the northland.

A week was spent in feasting and rejoicing!

And when they went the minstrels were rewarded

With many robes of silk with ermine borders,

With Spanish mules and many splendid horses.

 

AND THAT IS HOW our hero won his Lady,

And fair Orange! Some thirty years he stayed there,

Each day of which was challenged by the Pagans.

 

❦