CHAPTER XVI.

THE armies finding themselves in sight of one another, their generals took respectively such measures as they thought necessary to attack with advantage, and make sure the issue of the terrible proof of their strength that the two rival and powerful nations were about to make. All that day was passed in reconnoitring, opening trenches, and occupying positions; at night the watch-fires were seen to burn on different points of the mountains, and in either camp was heard the "dreadful note of preparation;" the sound of the "armourers accomplishing the knights," and occupied in burnishing and making arms, that of the artisans shoeing the horses, and the voice of the sentinels, who, passing from one to another, kept all vigilant.

The sun on the following day seemed to have hastened to arise in order to contemplate the martial and picturesque scene that the plains of Roncesvalles presented, and to be witness of a battle which was to be memorable in the annals of Spain. At one end of the valley was encamped the army of Charlemagne; and on the

other had taken its position that which defended the cause of Don Alfonso. On the one side waved the imperial standard of France, and on the other floated to the wind the royal pennant of Castile. The hills glittered with Spanish or French arms, and all the plain was white with numerous tents, among which arose here and there sumptuous pavilions which marked the position of the commanders.

Hardly had the first streaks of light begun to gild the neighbouring summits, when was observed a general movement in both camps. The French leaders had determined to offer battle, and the Spanish thought not to refuse it. Issuing from their encampments with widespread banners and sound of trumpet and drum, the former advanced to the middle of the valley, and began to draw up their ranks on the plain. Each division was headed by one of the twelve peers. The first that appeared was Richard of Normandy, who bore for a device upon his banner the bridge of Mantible, where this leader had given a signal proof of his valour. He was followed by Reynaldos de Montalban, as ardent in love as he was valiant in war. Then came Gaiferos, he who enjoyed the favours of the fair Melisendra. After him came Oliveros, the nephew of the emperor, and famous in battles with the giants. All the paladins, in short, came into the field, and lastly appeared Roldan,

the conqueror in a thousand battles, and the terror of the Saracen. This hero was believed invulnerable, and his name alone was worth a host. His arms were a truncated pine, a battleaxe which hung from his neck, and a sword called Durindana, which exceeded in fineness of temper all that human industry had hitherto produced. He wore besides at his girdle a cornet or bugle, which he only made use of on the most urgent occasions. With him came Gerardo, Duke of Rosellon, a veteran officer, who had in former time made himself known to the Spaniards, and to whom was now intrusted the imperial standard of black eagles.

Meanwhile, Bernardo did not remain an idle spectator of this brilliant array, nor did he permit himself to be terrified by the imposing force presented by the enemy. He had already given to his captains the necessary orders, and his troops, drawn up in battle array on the heights, only waited the signal to begin the fight. All being ready, Bernardo, whose impatience would not permit him to wait to be attacked, gave the word to advance, and his troops, obeying the order, precipitated themselves from the heights like an impetuous torrent, and rushed upon the enemy with terrible shouts. A multitude of darts and arrows obscures like a cloud the whole field of battle. The earth trembles, and the astonished peaks of Roncesvalles groan with the noise of

the armour, and the sound of the swords, as they fall upon helmets and shields, mingle with the voices of the leaders, the neighing of the steeds, and the sound of drums and trumpets. A thick cloud of dust covers the combatants, streams of blood inundate the plain, and fury and desperaBertion scatter everywhere fear and death. nardo, mounted on his swift horse, flies from rank to rank, exhorts some and encourages others, and animates all with word and example. He is present in all parts, and wherever he appears he gives new vigour to the fight. Death seemed to reign in the point of his sword, for where Belisarda fell there was one enemy the less.

The contest had been maintained for some time with inimitable valour and obstinacy, without any advantage gained on either side, for no one would yield an inch of ground, and where one fell another entered to supply his place; when a squadron of French horse making a circuit, came down like a thunderbolt upon the left wing of the Spanish. Unfortunately the mountaineers of Asturias had been placed there, who not being accustomed to this kind of enemies, were put to confusion at the sight of the cavalry, and began to turn their backs. The fear which had entered them was communicated to the rest, and in a short time took possession of the whole army. Roldan, the general of the French, observing this, commanded a body of cavalry to

advance, and heading it in person, charged with irresistible force upon the troops of Don Alfonso. Neither the cries of Bernardo, nor the efforts of Alamar, nor the prodigies of valour performed by Abindarraez, were able to stop the retrograde movement of the soldiers. "Cowards!" cried the first, "do not fly, or at least turn your faces and see me die." Seizing the pennon of Castile, almost alone and surrounded with foes, Bernardo seemed a rock lashed by the waves of a tempestuous sea. Meanwhile his soldiers retiring in disorder, crowded towards a narrow pass, where alone they could go out of the valley. All seemed lost; the French shouted victory, and made an enormous slaughter among the Moors and Spaniards. In such a conflict Bernardo observed that the fugitives found some obstacle in going through that pass, for many of them, opposed as it seemed by some irresistible force, turned back desperately, and opposed their faces to the enemy. Animated by a ray of hope, Bernardo hastens thither, and sees with admiration an old shepherd posted in that narrow passage, armed with an immense oaken branch, with which he dealt blows on all sides, and bruised the heads of all who attempted to force the passage. Like Horatius Cocles the Roman, or Vargas Machuca of later times, the unterrified old man, in whose eyes shone all the fire of youth, maintained his post with inflexible