The Days of Chivalry; Or, The Legend of CroquemitaineQuatrelles
History
The Days of Chivalry; Or, The Legend of Croquemitaine
Quatrelles
Charlemagne, Emperor, 742-814 -- Fiction; France -- History -- Humor
“In truth, my lord, you are not altered. As I left you nine years ago I
find you now. You have just asked me two questions. I will answer them.
You have asked what I would have you do? To that I answer, Avenge my
death! I would see this accursed Roland and his friends punished in
a way that should never be forgotten by the rest of mankind. I am
astonished that so affectionate a father and so just a king should have
been so long thinking about vengeance. Your other question was, ‘What
had you done to me?’ Those words, by the Prophet! should have died away
on your lips; but since your conscience does not assist your memory, I
will take its place. You do not question, of course, my dear lord, that
death reveals everything to us? One has reason to complain of it not so
much because it takes us from this world, as because it places the past
before us in naked truth--brings in review before us all our errors
and our beliefs--and teaches one, for instance, that one has had such a
father as you.”
Marsillus dug his nails into the wall, against which he had placed his
back, as if he would fain scoop out for himself some place of refuge.
Murad continued:--“While I was a child, happily for me, I did not occupy
any place in your life; but from the hour when you saw me return the
conqueror of the lioness and her cubs, you began to keep an eye on me. I
grew up under your personal superintendence, and if the queen, Hadrama,
my mother, had not at times pressed me to her bosom, I believe I should
have become a wild beast, and not a man. My name became famous; the
prodigies of my valour, my wisdom, and bravery won you many kingdoms. In
a short time I had doubled your empire. Your jealousy increased with
my fame, until, unable to look undazzled at the glory of my renown, you
determined to make away with me. From that moment I had to encounter
a thousand plots--a thousand treacheries, over which I triumphed by a
miracle, but of which I never once suspected the origin.”
Marsillus would fain have denied this, but his voice stuck in his
parched throat.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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