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“Then send Ganelon of Mayence,” said Roland. “He is in favor of this peace, and he is most fit to carry the message.”

“Yes, send Ganelon of Mayence!” cried all the peers.

Ganelon rose from his seat in rage. Fire flashed from his hazel eyes; his lips quivered; he tore the sable border from his crimson tunic, and stood proudly before Roland. “Fool!” cried he. “Who art thou who wouldst send me to Marsilius? If I but live to come again from Saragossa, I will deal thee such a blow as thou shalt never forget.”

“Speak softly, Sir Ganelon,” said Roland. “Men know that I care not for threats. If thou art afraid of the danger, mayhap the king will allow me to go in thy place.”

Hotter than before was Ganelon’s wrath; but he held his tongue, and turned humbly toward the king.

“My lord,” said he, “since you will that I bear this message to Marsilius, I go. But I know too well the false-hearted Moor to hope that I shall ever return. I pray you, care for my fair son Baldwin, to whom I leave my lands and all my fiefs. Keep him well, for these eyes of mine shall never see him again.”

“Thou art too fearful, and too tender of heart,” said the king, as he offered to Ganelon the staff and the glove which messengers were wont to carry as signs of their office. “Go now, and doubt not the issue of thine errand.”

Ganelon took the staff; but his hand trembled, and the glove fell to the ground.

“An evil omen is that,” whispered the peers who saw it. “It is a sign of no good fortune, either to him or to us.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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