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.