“You called upon me at the tournament of Fronsac, and promised me a chapel in exchange for Oliver’s life, and I heard you. Oliver lives, and nine years have passed and still my bones lie in Galicia, forgotten by Christians and given up to Saracens. You have led your legions to the Roman shores, to the ocean, and to the Gulf of Friesland. One part of Europe only have you omitted to visit: it is that where my bones are laid, and to which you swore to me to make an expedition in my honour. I am sent to you from above. If Heaven makes you the most powerful among the mighty ones of earth, it is that you may accomplish its designs. Arise, then; rescue my remains from profane hands, and open the route for pilgrims to my shrine. Arm your brave Franks, Lombards, Saxons, and Austrians, and march straight for the Saracens of Spain. I shall be with you in danger, and by-and-by you will find me ready to conduct you to Heaven.” The vision vanished. Two hours later Eginhard, coming to seek Charlemagne, found him still upon his knees in the park praying, with tears in his eyes. [Illustration: 116] [Illustration: 120] CHAPTER IV. HOW KING MARSILLUS SAW A VISION. A SHORT time previous to the foregoing events, Marsillus had a vision at Saragossa. Come with me now to Spain, my young friends. Do not murmur, for there exists nothing so lovely as Spain, unless it be “the terrestrial paradise,” of which I am not in a position to form an opinion. There the sandal-wood, the spikenard, the saffron, the ebony, and the clove, the most extraordinary flowers, the most delicious fruits, all grow wild. The streams prattle more gaily there than anywhere else, joyfully sprinkling with dewy drops the ever-verdant banks. On all sides trees, clothed with luxuriant foliage, provide shelter for the most musical birds in the world. The choir numbers the tomtit, the nightingale, the phoenix, the turtle-dove, and a thousand others. Must I, at the risk of making your mouths water, mention a few of the fruits of this marvellous land? What do you say to the fig, the grape, the pomegranate, the almond, the lemon, the pine-apple, the olive, and the orange? And the flowers!--clumps of roses everywhere, lilies, chrysanthemums! Here, grow ox-eyes; there, spring violets; yonder bloom the narcissus and the balsam. The cool brooklets, abundant and limpid as glass, flow over pebbles as bright as crystal and topaz. There are gardens like those of Persia, minarets like those of Bagdad, a blue sky’ like that of no other part of the world. The nights are so delicious, one is sorry to go to sleep. Everywhere are seen wealth, beauty, joy, and plenty! Such is Spain. All this, however, was ruined by the presence of the Saracens.