"Fair son Malprimes," then says t'him Baligant, "Was slain yestreen the good vassal Rollanz, And Oliver, the proof and valiant, The dozen peers, whom Charles so cherished, and Twenty thousand more Frankish combatants. For all the rest I'ld not unglove my hand. But the Emperour is verily come back, --So tells me now my man, that Sulian-- Ten great columns he's set them in their ranks; He's a proof man who sounds that olifant, With a clear call he rallies his comrades; These at the head come cantering in advance, Also with them are fifteen thousand Franks, Young bachelors, whom Charles calls Infants; As many again come following that band, Who will lay on with utmost arrogance." Then says Malprimes: "The first blow I demand." AOI. CCXXXI "Fair son Malprimes," says Baligant to him, "I grant it you, as you have asked me this; Against the Franks go now, and smite them quick. And take with you Torleu, the Persian king And Dapamort, another king Leutish. Their arrogance if you can humble it, Of my domains a slice to you I'll give From Cheriant unto the Vale Marquis." "I thank you, Sire!" Malprimes answers him; Going before, he takes delivery; 'Tis of that land, was held by king Flurit. After that hour he never looked on it, Investiture gat never, nor seizin. CCXXXII That admiral canters among his hosts; After, his son with's great body follows, Torleus the king, and the king Dapamort; Thirty columns most speedily they form. They've chevaliers in marvellous great force; Fifty thousand the smallest column holds. The first is raised of men from Butenrot, The next, after, Micenes, whose heads are gross; Along their backs, above their spinal bones, As they were hogs, great bristles on them grow. The third is raised from Nubles and from Blos; The fourth is raised from Bruns and Esclavoz; The fifth is raised from Sorbres and from Sorz; The sixth is raised from Ermines and from Mors; The seventh is the men of Jericho; Negroes are the eighth; the ninth are men of Gros; The tenth is raised from Balide the stronghold, That is a tribe no goodwill ever shews. That admiral hath sworn, the way he knows, By Mahumet, his virtues and his bones: "Charles of France is mad to canter so; Battle he'll have, unless he take him home; No more he'll wear on's head that crown of gold." CCXXXIII