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shelter one evening in the castle of Drachenfels, where he fell in love with Hildegarde, the beautiful daughter
of the Lord of Drachenfels. The sudden outbreak of the war in Spain forced him to bid farewell to his
betrothed, but he promised to return as soon as possible to celebrate their wedding. During the campaign,
many stories of his courage came to Hildegarde's ears, and finally, after a long silence, she heard that Roland
had perished at Roncesvalles.
Broken-hearted, the fair young mourner spent her days in tears, and at last prevailed upon her father to allow
her to enter the convent on the island of Nonnenworth, in the middle of the river, and within view of the
gigantic crag where the castle ruins can still be seen.
"The castled crag of Drachenfels Frowns o'er the wide and winding Rhine, Whose breast of water broadly
swells Between the banks which bear the vine, And hills all rich with blossomed trees, And fields which
CHAPTER IX. 72
promise corn and wine, And scattered cities crowning these, Whose fair white walls along them shine."
BYRON, Childe Harold.
With pallid cheeks and tear-dimmed eyes, Hildegarde now spent her life either in her tiny cell or in the
convent chapel, praying for the soul of her beloved, and longing that death might soon come to set her free to
join him. The legend relates, however, that Roland was not dead, as she supposed, but had merely been sorely
wounded at Roncesvalles.
When sufficiently recovered to travel, Roland painfully made his way back to Drachenfels, where he
presented himself late one evening, eagerly calling for Hildegarde. A few moments later the joyful light left
his eyes forever, for he learned that his beloved had taken irrevocable vows, and was now the bride of
Heaven.
That selfsame day Roland left the castle of Drachenfels, and riding to an eminence overlooking the island of
Nonnenwörth, he gazed long and tearfully at a little light twinkling in one of the convent windows. As he
could not but suppose that it illumined Hildegarde's cell and lonely vigils, he watched it all night, and when
morning came he recognized his beloved's form in the long procession of nuns on their way to the chapel.
[Sidenote: Rolandseck.] This view of the lady he loved seemed a slight consolation to the hero, who built a
retreat on this rock, which is known as Rolandseck. Here he spent his days in penance and prayer, gazing
constantly at the island at his feet, and the swift stream which parted him from Hildegarde.
One wintry day, many years after he had taken up his abode on the rocky height, Roland missed the graceful
form he loved, and heard, instead of the usual psalm, a dirge for the dead. Then he noticed that six of the nuns
were carrying a coffin, which they lowered into an open tomb.
Roland's nameless fears were confirmed in the evening, when the convent priest visited him, and gently
announced that Hildegarde was at rest. Calmly Roland listened to these tidings, begged the priest to hear his
confession as usual, and, when he had received absolution, expressed a desire to be buried with his face turned
toward the convent where Hildegarde had lived and died.
The priest readily promised to observe this request, and departed. When he came on the morrow, he found
Roland dead. They buried him reverently on the very spot which bears his name, with his face turned toward
Nonnenwörth, where Hildegarde lay at rest.
CHAPTER IX.
THE SONS OF AYMON.
The different chansons de gestes relating to Aymon and the necromancer Malagigi (Malagis), probably arose
from popular ballads commemorating the struggles of Charles the Bald and his feudatories. These ballads are
of course as old as the events which they were intended to record, but the chansons de gestes based upon
them, and entitled "Duolin de Mayence," "Aymon, Son of Duolin de Mayence," "Maugis," "Rinaldo de
Trebizonde," "The Four Sons of Aymon," and "Mabrian," are of much later date, and were particularly
admired during the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries.
One of the most famous of Charlemagne's peers was doubtless the noble Aymon of Dordogne; and when the
war against the Avars in Hungary had been successfully closed, owing to his bravery, his adherents besought
the king to bestow upon this knight some reward. Charlemagne, whom many of these later chansons de gestes
describe as mean and avaricious, refused to grant any reward, declaring that were he to add still further to his
vassal's already extensive territories, Aymon would soon be come more powerful than his sovereign.
CHAPTER IX. 73
[Sidenote: War between Aymon and Charlemagne.] This unjust refusal displeased Lord Hug of Dordogne,
who had pleaded for his kinsman, so that he ventured a retort, which so incensed the king that he slew him
then and there. Aymon, learning of the death of Lord Hug, and aware of the failure of his last embassy,
haughtily withdrew to his own estates, whence he now began to wage war against Charlemagne.
Instead of open battle, however, a sort of guerrilla warfare was carried on, in which, thanks to his marvelous
steed Bayard, which his cousin Malagigi, the necromancer, had brought him from hell, Aymon always won
the advantage. At the end of several years, however, Charlemagne collected a large host, and came to lay
siege to the castle where Aymon had intrenched himself with all his adherents.
[Sidenote: Loss of the horse Bayard.] During that siege, Aymon awoke one morning to find that his beloved
steed had vanished. Malagigi, hearing him bewail his loss, bade him be of good cheer, promising to restore
Bayard ere long, although he would be obliged to go to Mount Vulcanus, the mouth of hell, to get him. Thus
comforted, Aymon ceased to mourn, while Malagigi set to work to fulfill his promise. As a brisk wind was
blowing from the castle towards the camp, he flung upon the breeze some powdered hellebore, which caused
a violent sneezing throughout the army. Then, while his foes were wiping their streaming eyes, the
necromancer, who had learned his black art in the famous school of Toledo, slipped through their ranks
unseen, and journeyed on to Mount Vulcanus, where he encountered his Satanic Majesty.
His first act was to offer his services to Satan, who accepted them gladly, bidding him watch the steed Bayard,
which he had stolen because he preferred riding a horse to sitting astride a storm cloud as usual. The
necromancer artfully pretended great anxiety to serve his new master, but having discovered just where
Bayard was to be found, he made use of a sedative powder to lull Satan to sleep. Then, hastening to the angry [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]