In Saragossa King Marsil made His council-seat in the orchard shade, On a stair of marble of azure hue. There his courtiers round him drew; While there stood, the king before, Twenty thousand men and more. Thus to his dukes and his counts he said, "Hear ye, my lords, we are sore bested. The Emperor Karl of gentle France Hither hath come for our dire mischance. Nor host to meet him in battle line, Nor power to shatter his power, is mine. Speak, my sages; your counsel lend: My doom of shame and death forefend." But of all the heathens none spake word Save Blancandrin, Val Fonde's lord. III Blancandrin was a heathen wise, Knightly and valiant of enterprise, Sage in counsel his lord to aid; And he said to the king, "Be not dismayed: Proffer to Karl, the haughty and high, Lowly friendship and fealty; Ample largess lay at his feet, Bear and lion and greyhound fleet. Seven hundred camels his tribute be, A thousand hawks that have moulted free. Let full four hundred mules be told, Laden with silver enow and gold For fifty waggons to bear away; So shall his soldiers receive their pay. Say, too long hath he warred in Spain,-- Let him turn to France--to his Aix--again. At Saint Michael's feast you will thither speed, Bend your heart to the Christian creed, And his liegeman be in duty and deed. Hostages he may demand Ten or twenty at your hand. We will send him the sons whom our wives have nursed; Were death to follow, mine own the first. Better by far that they there should die Than be driven all from our land to fly, Flung to dishonor and beggary." IV "Yea," said Blancandrin, "by this right hand, And my floating beard by the free wind fanned, Ye shall see the host of the Franks disband And hie them back into France their land; Each to his home as beseemeth well, And Karl unto Aix--to his own Chapelle. He will hold high feast on Saint Michael's day And the time of your tryst shall pass away. Tale nor tidings of us shall be; Fiery and sudden, I know, is he: He will smite off the heads of our hostages all: Better, I say, that their heads should fall Than we the fair land of Spain forego, And our lives be laden with shame and woe." "Yea," said the heathens, "it may be so." V