Maugis and his followers now traveled more tranquilly, when, at the moment, supposing they were beyond all danger, they stumbled on the troops of their father, the Duke d’Aymon, who, with other lords and peers of the court, were proceeding to their homes. The duke, holding his duty to his emperor above all others, summoned his sons to surrender or to fight. This the young men refused to do and begged their father to have a regard for their position and not reduce them to the last extremities. The duke, however, turned a deaf ear to the prayer of his sons and ordered his troops to charge, himself riding at their head. The young men, fearing to wound or kill their parent, were in a most desperate place. Their men were falling all around them—so rapidly was their force diminishing, that of five hundred troops they had at beginning of the conflict only fifty now remained who were capable of fighting. They must do something to relieve them of their terrible position. Then it was that Maugis dismounted, and giving his horse, Bayard, to Alard, who followed him closely, suddenly ran to his father, and taking him by surprise, threw his muscular arms around him and held him firmly, Alard having meanwhile struck down Hermanfroi, who would have prevented them. During the delay this astonishing scene caused they had traversed with their men a small river that was their last chance of safety. When he saw this movement was completed Maugis released his father, after having begged his pardon, and throwing himself on his horse behind the waiting Alard, gained the banks of the river in safety, and was soon on the other side, despite all efforts to bar his passage. The old duke at once returned to the emperor to acquaint him of his defeat, but well pleased in his own heart that his sons should have escaped. The great Charlemagne well illustrated the contradictory aspects of his character by his reception of the old duke as he himself possessed a strong paternal feeling. Said he: “By the beard of St. Anthony! an unnatural father art thou, who would destroy his own children. Out of my presence! Come here no more with falsehoods on thy lips hoping to obtain new favors.” Honest, and the reverse of all this, the poor old duke bowed his head, sighed, and departed for his château. There he recounted to his wife what had occurred and the humiliation he had received. But Edwige, instead of consoling him, reproached him bitterly for his actions. “Thou need not,” she cried, “carry thy fidelity to the king to such a point as to destroy thine own children.” “I know, I see now!” sighed the poor old duke, holding out his arms to the sorrowing mother as a sign of reconciliation. “I promise thee faithfully never again will I do anything against the interest of my sons,” he cried with tears in his eyes. CHAPTER VII.