CHAPTER III.

All being restored to order and the war between himself and subjects having been terminated, Charlemagne returned to Paris, after having made an appointment with the Duke d’Aigremont to meet him at the capital.

The duke was pledged to come immediately with two hundred men, also to raise six thousand men additional, and the same were to report at Paris in good order as soon as possible to join the king’s army. Gerard and Nanteuil, the brothers of d’Aigremont, the emperor commanded, were to proceed with him as an escort, and were to march in advance with himself.

Agreeable to this arrangement, some time afterward, when the Duke d’Aigremont had proceeded toward Paris, until he was nearly at Soissons, he perceived an army of about four thousand men advancing to meet him. He was much puzzled to account for this movement and deemed it prudent to stop.

The forgiveness that Charlemagne had solemnly accorded the duke had, it seems, created a profound jealousy in the hearts of many of the courtiers, one of whom in particular regarded his noble action simply as an act of cowardice. He was jealous of the emperor and jealous of the duke. His cowardly mind prompted him to dishonor the former and get rid of the latter, if he could only contrive some means to attack him, for he was possessed of considerable force and had great courage besides. He decided that to disgrace him would be the better plan. This is why he then proceeded to represent insinuatingly to the emperor that he had been hasty and inconsiderate in his pardon of the princes, even though they had taken a new oath of fidelity. There could be no doubt that it was their plan to surround the king when a favorable opportunity came with a force he could not resist. This traitor further represented to the king that allowing himself to be so encompassed by these princes was an inconsistent act amounting to temerity and that it would have been infinitely better to have immediately gotten rid of them in some indirect manner than to allow them an opportunity to form new relations in the royal army.

This tempter also worked on the royal mind by bringing up past injuries, and he cunningly brought up the cruel death of Lothaire, until he felt certain of obtaining, if not an order, at least a tacit consent to the carrying out of his evil designs. That was what came about.

This villainous plotter was Ganelon, who, after this preliminary poisoning of the emperor’s mind, completed his work by going to him accompanied by three other knights, when all three represented to the emperor that if the Duke d’Aigremont was allowed to come to Paris with an army he might do so with one double the strength he had promised, which would surely compromise his security; it being the intention of the duke, they were sure, to raise the standard of revolt at the first opportunity.

“In effect, sire!” said Ganelon, “it would be quite easy to sow discord in an army composed of different peoples. Prejudices could be created by exciting one against the other until a conflict would be precipitated that would endanger the crown itself.”

“Sire,” said another knight, “to prevent such a dire disaster, there is only one way.”

“And that is,” queried the now thoroughly enraged emperor.

“To stop his coming and to take him dead or alive and punish him for having violated his new oath,” cried Ganelon.

“S’ death! I find it ill favors me to believe this,” exclaimed Charlemagne with darkened brow, “D’Aigremont swore to me his fidelity and that he should violate it a second time is impossible.”

“But sire!” urged Ganelon, “consider the safety of your majesty and that of the state.”

“Enough!” thundered the emperor. “I will not believe it. However, rather than have myself to reproach for a deplorable conflict, such as would occur by these reports, take four thousand soldiers and go yourself to meet D’Aigremont and assure yourself of his faithfulness.”

A gleam of triumph lighted the eyes of the perfidious plotter, though his impassiveness did not betray the feelings of triumph which surged in his breast, as he, with his three fellow conspirators, left the royal presence. He had obtained part of what he desired, knowing that at the same time he had also been able to show every indication of zeal and profound attachment to the emperor. He hastened to put himself at the head of his troops and set out on his mission.

It was this body of troops, headed by Ganelon, that barred the progress of the Duke d’Aigremont toward Paris.

The duke paused in his march with a sinking heart. “Why,” he asked himself, as the royal banners came into view and apprised him that it was the king’s forces that faced him, “should the emperor send these troops to resist me?”

He, however, determined to face the situation boldly and advanced with his escort toward the royal army.

The duke approached within speaking distance, paused and respectfully saluted the royal colors.

[Illustration: ANCIENT GATE OF MOUZON.]

“May I inquire,” he demanded in a respectful tone, “why this army is against me?”

“In good sooth, may’st thou!” replied Count Morillon, the lieutenant of Ganelon, “there can be but one way to meet traitors, but with force, neither can there be but one way to treat assassins.”

At these insulting words the face of the duke flushed hotly, but with an effort of will he controlled himself and said with great deference: “This must be an error, peace has been made and there can be no excuse for recommencing a conflict that will perhaps prove fatal to each of us.”

“Traitor!” shouted Morillon in reply. “It may be the emperor has pardoned thee, but the people have neither forgiven thee nor thy crimes.”

At these words Ganelon shouted: “_A bas le assassin!_” and at the head of his troops bore down upon the duke and his small escort. But the latter was too brave a man to retreat before this threatening movement.

Ganelon thought for a moment that the duke would seek safety in flight and ordered Morillon to get in his rear. But the brave duke resisted this movement, for it was his last thought to fly. Even had he so thought, it was now too late, such were the superior numbers against him. Morillon succeeded in getting in his rear and he was completely surrounded.

Then commenced a most desperate battle and in a very short time the duke had lost half of his people, but the remainder fought with a determination to die rather than surrender. It was a conflict of giants. Each sword-stroke claimed its victim and even the horses joined the men in that frenzied struggle.

The duke slew with one blow of his mighty sword, both Helic and Godefroy. Morillon would have encountered the same fate but for the quickness of Griffon de Hautfeuille, who cut down the horse of the Duke d’Aigremont, who, entangled in the fall, could not recover himself, and Ganelon ran him through with his sword, while at the same moment Griffon pierced him to the heart.

Only ten knights now remained of the duke’s escort and they were speedily disarmed and supplicated for their lives, which Ganelon granted them on the condition that they bear the body of their master back to his château.

Thus was a most cruel retaliation visited upon the poor Duke d’Aigremont. The conquered knights accepted these conditions to save their lives, but with the secret thought in their hearts to avenge the death of their master. Covering up the remains, they then left for the land of D’Aigremont, where they soon arrived.

The poor duchess swooned on seeing the body of her husband, but collecting herself, she approached the blood-stained bier with her son Renaud and made him swear upon it to employ all means possible to avenge the murder of his father, which oath it will be seen he kept fully.

Ganelon and Griffon, proud of their achievement, in due time arrived in Paris, and went to the court. But instead of meeting with a favorable reception, received only words and looks of disapprobation. A man like Ganelon, however, was not to be rebuked so easily. He appeared before the emperor and presented, on his knees, the sword with which the Duke d’Aigremont had killed his son.

“Sire,” said Ganelon humbly, “I know that every one disapproves of me here. Sire, am I then blamable for having killed the assassin of your son? Such is my disposition and I cannot help it. I may have disobeyed my prince in my zeal, but I have obeyed my conscience which would never permit me to allow such an awful crime to go unpunished. If you disfavor me, sire, order my death, for I am a man who would willingly go to death for you, but you would lose one of your most devoted knights merely because he killed the murderer of your son.”

Charlemagne found himself in a position of strange perplexity. The court was silent, while with troubled face and bowed head the emperor answered not the supplicant before him.

“Thou art deserving of severe chastisement,” he thundered. “I like not the idea of having failed when we have given our royal word. The Duke d’Aigremont had obtained of me full pardon and I therefore should not tolerate his assassination.”

The face of Ganelon paled—had he then gone too far?—matters boded ill for him and a faint murmur of approval rose from the courtiers round about the vast audience-chamber at the words of the king.

At this moment the Duke de Naimes and several other lords approached, whom Griffon de Hautfeuille had artfully succeeded in winning over to their cause, and supplicated Charlemagne for their pardon. At last the emperor acceded, perhaps influenced by the secret fear of offending so many powerful nobles by refusing, and the affair was suffered to rest there.

When the news of the pardon came to the Château d’Aigremont it had the effect of increasing the grief and rage of his son Renaud, who hastened to see his people and asked them to swear to enter into a war against the emperor at the first favorable moment. They consented with loyalty. Maugis, the eldest of the four sons of Aymon and nephew of the murdered duke, was most ardent in his desire to punish such an act of treachery, and it is from this point the real history of Maugis begins.