Speeding along the river toward Dinant we came to the famous Rock of Bayard, a tall pinnacle split off from the main cliff, with the road passing through a narrow gorge between. It has been renowned since the days of Charlemagne, when Bayard, the enchanted horse, with the four sons of Aymon clinging to his back, leaped across the chasm in mad flight from the vengeance of the Emperor. As one of the brothers was no less than sixteen feet in height, and the other three nearly as tall, it was really something of an achievement. But Bayard was a very remarkable animal. The sons of Aymon had received him as a gift from their cousin Maugis, along with an excellent sword named Flamberge, whose very wind would cut off a man's head. It seems that this Maugis had heard of a wonderful steed reared on an island in the Meuse and kept there by a giant named Rouart. So he went over and called on the giant, telling him stories till he fell fast asleep. Then he set out to find the horse, which he soon discovered in a cavern stable guarded by a dragon. With no other weapon than a fork, Maugis slew the monster. When Bayard came forward to see what was going on, the young man asked politely if he might mount him. As the horse made no objection, Maugis mounted and rode him down to his boat. [Illustration: ROCK OF BAYARD, DINANT.] After many adventures, Bayard and the four sons of Aymon were all captured by Charlemagne, who pardoned the young men on condition that the eldest should make a pilgrimage beyond the seas and free his horse before he went. But the older brother was hardly out of sight when the Emperor ordered Bayard brought to a bridge across the Meuse for his inspection. "Ah, Bayard," said he, "you have plagued me many times, but I have you now!" With that he had a great stone fastened about the horse's neck and the animal thrown into the river. When he saw that Bayard sank to the bottom he cried out, "I have nothing more to ask. Finally he is destroyed!" But Charlemagne rejoiced too soon, for the horse struck off the weight, rose to the surface, and set out for shore. There he shook himself, gave a loud neigh, and was off at top speed for the sheltering depths of the forests of the Ardennes, where, they tell you, he still lives to this day. Of Dinant so much has been written that there is little new to be said. In the Middle Ages it was famous for the work of its brass and copper smiths, and for its cakes. These were made of a sort of gingerbread and were often celebrated in song. One rime tells of the plight of the bakers who, in their anxiety to entertain properly the governor of their province, made in his honour a cake so large that the biggest oven in town was a foot too small to hold it. Because of its odd Latin inscription, the bridge of Dinant has also been much sung. Says one of the ditties: