Part 6

Now, at this time the paynims had come down upon Denmark, and had harried all the land. And they shut up King Godfrey in his own castle, and besieged it so that he nearly died of famine. Then the Queen said: "Surely this trouble is come upon us for Olger's sake, whom we left to die." And they began to repent of their wickedness, until at length, becoming very low and miserable, they sent a message to King Charles, begging him to forgive them, and to send them help. But the Emperor replied: "No! Since Godfrey holds his lands of God and of his good sword, let him hold them. I will not lift a hand to help him." Then he sent for Olger, and said: "You would not wish to help a traitor--one, too, who left you to die for his crimes?" But Olger knelt before the King, and said: "Sire, as vassal I kneel here before my King; but Godfrey is my father, and my duty is to go to his aid. Surely the King will not forbid a son his duty!"

Then Charles was moved, and said: "Go; but go alone, save with your body-servants. No man of mine shall fight in the cause of a rebel and traitor."

Then Olger hurried to his father's castle with thirty of his men; but ere he could reach it, King Godfrey had been slain by his foes, and they were even then fighting over his body when Olger rode up.

It was not long before Olger, with his good sword Courtain, had scattered these paynims far and wide, and soon after they left the country in despair of conquering such a hero. Then Olger was made King of Denmark, and ruled there for five years; and when he had settled the land and made good laws, he returned to the Emperor Charles, and, kneeling before him, said: "The son of Godfrey, of his own free will, thus pays homage to King Charles for all the land of Denmark."

The King embraced him warmly at these words, and begged him to remain as long as possible at the Frankish Court. Now, one day the little Baldwin, Olger's son, a fair-headed child whom all good men looked upon with favour, was playing chess with Charlot, son of the Emperor; and it came to pass that, having quickly given "fool's mate" to the prince, the boy began to laugh at him for his bad play.

Then Charlot, who had always hated Olger, and was jealous of young Baldwin, took up the heavy chessboard, and beat the child on the head, so that he fell lifeless to the ground.

When Olger returned from the hunt and found his little son lying dead, he was beside himself with grief. He covered the child with tears and kisses, and then, making his way to the Emperor's presence, he laid the boy before his throne, saying:

"Sire, look upon your son's foul deed."

The Emperor was sorely grieved; but he tried to comfort Olger, saying he would give half his kingdom if it would bring the child to life again, but that he knew well that nothing could make up for such a loss.

Then Olger said very sternly: "There is no compensation, but there is punishment to be given. Grant me now to fight with your son, and so avenge my poor child's death."

"Nay," said the Emperor; "for how, then, could he have a chance of life?"

"What matters that?" cried Olger, with bitter look. "What is your son more than mine? I demand that he be given up to me."

"I cannot do it," said the Emperor.

"Then," cried Olger in great wrath, "till you learn justice, sire, we part company." And forthwith he left the Court, and took service with a Lombard king who was fighting against King Charles.

For the next few years Olger the Dane won great renown by his warfare against the Franks, for wherever he went he was always the victor, and his enemies began to look upon his good sword Courtain, and Broiefort, his great black steed, with awe and terror. Many of the Franks said openly, that to let Olger depart and to make him their foe, had been no wise deed, for he came upon them like a blight upon the summer corn. At length they made a plot against him, and determined to get the better of him by foul treachery. So they watched him privily, and found him one day, tired out with fighting, lying fast asleep by a fountain, with his arms scattered far and wide, and his good steed Broiefort grazing peacefully by his side. Then one seized his horse, and another his weapons, and they bound him fast while he still lay sound asleep.

When Sir Olger was brought to the Court as a prisoner, the Emperor wished to slay him, because he feared the vengeance of Olger on his son, and in return for the harm he had done to the Frankish cause. But the knights and barons would not hear of this, saying that they had lent themselves to treachery to save their native land, but that the life of the noblest knight in Christendom should not be lost thereby. So he was put into prison, and kept under a strong guard for several years.

Now, after these days did Achar, King of England, land in France to do homage to the Emperor for his lands; and with him came his fair daughter Clarice. But as he journeyed to the Court a certain Saracen giant named Bruhier arrived with a great army to make war upon the Franks, and he seized the persons of Achar and his daughter, and marched to fight against the Emperor. And so great was the power of this giant that the Frankish army could not stand before him, but fled before his face. Then the barons and knights began to implore Charles to release Olger from his prison and prevail on him to fight for them, and forthwith the Emperor went himself ta the prison to implore his aid. But Olger would not listen for a moment to this proposal, unless the Emperor would first deliver Charlot the prince into his hands. For a long time the Emperor would not agree to this; but at length his whole army reproached him, saying: "Have you no care for us that you let us die by thousands in a hopeless fight? Why should a thousand die for one?"

So Charles was forced to deliver up his son.

Then, as Charlot begged and prayed for mercy, Olger thought only of his fair-haired little boy, and, taking the prince by the hair, raised Courtain to strike off his head. But as he did so a voice from the air cried: "Stay thy hand, Olger the Dane! Slay not the son of the King!" and at the same moment vivid flashes of lightning came about them both. Then the sword fell from Olger's hand, and all who had heard the voice trembled and greatly feared. The King, in his joy at the deliverance of his son, would have poured out his gratitude to the Dane; but Olger only said: "Your thanks are due to God, not to me. I do but bow to His will." And that day the King and Olger were made friends.

But when the Dane would have made ready to fight against the Saracen, he found that nothing had been heard or seen of his good horse Broiefort for seven long years, and all men believed him to be dead. The Emperor sent him his best charger in his stead, but scarcely had the knight leaped into the saddle when the creature fell beneath his weight. Ten other of the finest horses in the land were tried, and, finding that none could carry him, Olger declared that he must go afoot. But a certain man was found who said he had seen the horse Broiefort dragging blocks of stone for the building of the Abbey of St Meaux, and immediately a little band rode off to bring the horse back to his master. They found him but skin and bone, his hair worn off his sides, his tail shorn to the stump, his skin galled by the shafts, a very scarecrow of a horse, yet dragging a load that four other horses could not stir. They brought him to Olger with all speed; and when the sturdy knight leaned upon him, he did not cringe under the weight, but straightened himself, and, knowing his master, snorted and neighed with joy, and pawed the ground, and knelt down humbly before him on the grass.

So Olger went to battle upon Broiefort, and wherever he went he won the day. He slew the giant Bruhier, drove the Saracen from the land, and rescued King Achar, and his daughter Clarice, whom the King of Britain gave him for his wife. And when they were married, they crossed the sea, and Achar made Olger King of Britain in his stead. For many years he ruled this country, and there his faithful Broiefort died and was buried. At length he grew weary of peace, and went to fight for the Holy Cross in Palestine; and there he fought many a hard battle, and won many a victory, till he was old and grey with years. Then he left the Holy Land, and set sail for France that he might see Charles the Great and his Court once more before he returned to Britain, there to end his days.

But on that journey there came upon them a great storm; and the tempestuous wind drove the ship in which Olger was far away from the rest, into strange seas, without rudder, oars, or mast; and a strong current seized the vessel, and crashed it against a reef of loadstone rock. All who were on board leaped into the waves, and were soon dashed lifeless against the beach; only Sir Olger remained upon the deck in the black darkness, gazing out upon the stormy sea. He bared his head, and, drawing Courtain, kissed the crossed hilt, and thanked God for the courage given him as a soldier all his life, and then quietly awaited death.

III. The Return from Avalon

Darker and wilder grew the night, when, just as the waves seemed about to overwhelm the ship, a voice from the air cried, clear and strong: "Olger, I wait for thee. Come, and fear not the waves." And immediately he cast himself into the sea, and was borne on the crest of a great billow high up in the air, and placed in safety among the rocks. A weird light shone through the gloom, and showed a narrow pathway through the crags, and, following this, Olger presently saw a brilliant glow in front of him, which gradually took the shape of a shining palace, which none can see by day, but which at nightfall glows with unearthly splendour. Its walls were of ivory, inlaid with gold and ebony, and within its spacious hall was set a most rare banquet upon a golden table. But the only inhabitant of the palace was a fairy horse named Papillon, who signed to Olger to seat himself at the banquet, and brought him water in a golden pitcher for his hands, and served him at table while he ate. When he had finished, Papillon carried him off to a bed, in the pillars of which stood golden candlesticks, wherein wax tapers burned the whole night through.

So Olger slept; but when he awoke next day, the fairy palace had vanished in the morning light, and he found himself lying in a fair garden, where the trees were always green and the flowers unfading and the summer never comes to an end, where no storm ever darkens the sweet, soft sky, and the chill of sunset is not known. For it was a garden in the vale of Avalon, in Fairyland.

And as he gazed around him, greatly wondering, there appeared at his side Morgan le Fay, Queen of the Fairies, clothed in shining white apparel, and said to him: "Welcome, dear knight, to Avalon. Long have I waited and wearied for your coming. Now you are mine for ever. The ages may roll away, and the world fall to pieces; we will dream for ever in this vale, where all things are the same." Then she put an enchanted ring on his finger, and immediately he became a youth again, beautiful and vigorous. And on his head she placed a crown of myrtle leaves and laurel, all in gold; and Olger remembered no more his former life, for she had given him the Crown of Forgetfulness.

So Olger sojourned in that fair land; and there he met and talked with King Arthur, healed now of his mortal wound, and the forms of Sir Lancelot and Sir Tristram and of many other noble knights of the Table Bound.

[Illustration: OLGER IN FAIRYLAND]

And so two hundred years passed by like a beautiful dream.

Meantime sad events had taken place in the land of France. No great leader had arisen after Charles the Great, and the land had fallen into poverty and shame. Everywhere the Franks were beaten back by Paynim and by Saracen, and chivalry seemed lost for ever. In vain the people cried out for a deliverer; and at length Morgan le Fay heard and pitied them. So she went to Olger the Dane, and said to him:

"Dear knight, how long have you dwelt here with me?"

"It may be a week, a month, or perchance a year," he answered, smiling, "for I have lost all count of time."

Then Morgan le Fay lifted the Crown of Forgetfulness from his brows, and at once his memory came to him again.

"I must go back," he cried, as though awaking from sleep. "Too long have I tarried here. Clarice will be calling for me, and Charles, my master, will have summoned Olger in vain. Where is my sword, my horse! Now let me go, fair queen, but tell me first how long I have dwelt here."

"It seems not long to me, dear knight," said she; "but you shall go when you will."

Then Morgan le Fay brought to life again his dead squire Benoist, and brought out Courtain, his good sword, and led forth Papillon for his steed. "Keep safe the ring upon your hand," said she, "for so long as you wear it, youth and vigour shall not fail you. And take also this torch, but see you light it not, for so long as it remains unlighted your life is safe; but, if ever it should begin to burn, guard the flame well, for with the last spark of the torch shall your days end."

She wove, moreover, a spell about them, so that they fell into a deep sleep. And when Sir Olger awoke, he found himself lying by a fountain, with his sword and armour near by, and Benoist holding Papillon ready for him to mount. Leaping on their horses, they rode along till, not far from a town, they overtook a horseman.

"What city is this, good sir?" asked Olger.

"Montpellier," answered the man.

"Ah, yes; I had forgotten," said Olger. "Yet I ought to know well enough, for a kinsman of mine is governor there." And he named the man whom he believed to be the governor.

"You are strangely in error," said the horseman, "though I remember now to have heard there was a ruler of that name two hundred years ago. He was a great writer of romances, and I daresay you know, since you claim him as your ancestor, that he wrote the romance of Olger the Dane. A good story enough, though, of course, no one believes it now, save perhaps one man, who often sings it about the city, and picks up money from the passers-by." Then he fell back a few paces, and riding beside Benoist, said to him: "Who is your master?"

"Surely you must know him," said the squire; "he is Olger the Dane."

"Rascal!" cried the stranger, "you are making a jest of me. All men know that Olger the Dane perished in shipwreck two hundred years ago. That is a fine story indeed!" And he rode away.

The knight and his squire pursued their journey till they came to the market-place of Meaux, where they stopped at the door of an inn well known to them in former days.

"Can we lodge here?" asked Olger.

"Certainly you can," replied the innkeeper.

"Then fetch the landlord to speak with me."

"Sir," said the man, "I am the landlord."

"Nay, nay," said Olger; "I wish to see Hubert the Neapolitan, the landlord of this house."

The man gave him one look, and then, taking him for a madman, bolted the door in his face, and, rushing to an upper window, cried: "Seize that horseman for a madman. He asks to see Hubert, my grandfather's grandfather, who has been dead two hundred years. Send for the Abbot of St Faron, that he may drive out the evil spirit from him."

Then a crowd began to gather, and stones and darts were hurled at the knight and his man, and in the scuffle that followed Benoist was shot dead by an archer. And when Sir Olger saw that, he was filled with the fiercest wrath, and rode Papillon at the crowd, and scattered them, cutting down with his sword all who came within reach. But so hotly burnt his wrath that it kindled the torch that he carried in his breast, so he rode away with it to the Abbey of St Faron. There the Abbot met him, to whom Olger said: "Is your name Simon? You at least should know me, seeing that I founded this abbey and endowed it with lands and money." But the Abbot answered that he knew little of those who had preceded him, and asked the stranger's name. And when he heard it he was greatly puzzled, and said to himself: "I do remember me that the charters of the house say that Simon was Abbot in the days of the founder, Olger the Dane; yet what does all this mean?" And aloud he said: "Sir Knight, the Abbot Simon has been buried for nigh two hundred years."

"What!" cried the knight. "Simon dead! And Charles the Great and Caraheu and Clarice, my wife? Where are they? Not dead too? Oh, say they are not dead!"

"Dead--dead two hundred years ago, my son," said the Abbot solemnly. Then Sir Olger was filled with awe and wonder, as he began to realise that his dream of Avalon was true after all. Following the Abbot into the church he told his strange story; and the Abbot believed him, and rejoiced to think that a deliverer had been sent to France at last. Then Olger told him the secret of the torch, and begged him to make an iron treasure-house beneath the church, wherein so little air could come that the flame might dwindle to a single spark, and yet be nourished and preserved for many years to come. And when this was done, and the torch was safely disposed of, the Abbot begged to see the magic ring. But when Olger heedlessly drew it from his finger, immediately his youth and vigour vanished, and he became a helpless old man, whose skin hung loose like withered parchment, and whose only sign of life was the quivering of his toothless jaws. The terrified Abbot hastily put back the ring on the fleshless finger, and immediately Olger's strength and youth returned, and he rode off on Papillon to fight for France. The enemy was then stationed before Chartres, and so strong they were that the Franks were falling back disheartened before them, when suddenly, just as in former days, a gigantic knight riding a coal-black horse appeared in their midst, and everywhere he rode was marked by a long line of slain. Then the astonished Franks remembered the stories they had heard in the days of old, and murmured to one another: "It is Olger the Dane!" One after the other passed it on, till the murmur grew to a cry, and the cry to a shout of "Olger! Olger the Dane!" and, rushing upon the foe, they swept the paynims from the field. Over and over again did Olger thus lead the Franks to victory, until at length the land was free. And always while he fought the torch burned bright in the Church of St Faron, but when he rested it dwindled to a spark again.

At length the renowned and glorious knight had leisure to visit the French Court. He found that the King of France had lately died, but the Queen received him with all kindness; and her waiting maid, the Lady of Senlis, loved him so much that she would gladly have wedded him, but he would have nothing to do with her. Now, one day these ladies discovered the secret of the magic ring; for, finding him one day asleep upon a couch after a long journey, they drew the ring from his finger, meaning to jest with him about it when he awoke. Much to their horror, the strong man withered up before their eyes, and became an ancient skeleton. Then the Queen, knowing from this that it was truly Olger the Dane, immediately replaced the ring, and he regained his former youth. But the Lady of Senlis, determined that since Olger did not care for her, he should love no one else, sent thirty strong knights to waylay him as he left the Court, and to wrest the ring of Morgan le Fay from his hand. But Sir Olger spurred Papillon among them, with Courtain drawn in his hand, and so escaped untouched. After this the Queen herself wished to marry Olger, for she said: "He, and he alone, is worthy to sit upon the throne of Charles the Great." And to this Olger agreed, for he felt to sit in his master's seat was the highest earthly honour he could win. So with great pomp and ceremony they prepared for the wedding. The great church blazed with golden banners as a lordly procession entered and proclaimed the approaching coronation of the new-made King; and Sir Olger took the Queen by the hand, and led her forward, and knelt with her upon the chancel pavement. But ere the marriage vows were spoken, a brighter light than any on earth shone upon them, and all at once a thick white cloud wrapped round the knight. Some say that Morgan le Fay was seen floating down through the cloud, with arms outstretched, to carry off her knight. However that may be, when the cloud had cleared away Sir Olger was no more to be seen upon this earth. But men whisper that Olger the Dane lives yet, for the torch still burns in the treasure-house of the Abbey of St Faron. He is only asleep in the faery islands of Avalon, and one day he will awaken, and return again, return to deliver France once more in time of need, when the Franks shall turn, and conquer their foes, with their ancient battle-cry of "Olger! Olger the Dane!"

_From the Anglo-Norman Romance of Charlemagne, about the twelfth century, but undoubtedly borrowed from a Celtic source, since the whole spirit of the tale is Celtic in origin._

The Story of King Fortager