WHAT HAPPENED AT RONCEVAUX
In all the world there was not such another king as Charlemagne.Wherever his arms were carried, there victory followed; and neitherPagan nor haughty Christian foe dared lift up hands any more againsthim. His kingdom stretched from the Baltic Sea to the Italian shores,and from beyond the Rhine to the great Western Ocean. Princes were hisservants; kings were his vassals; and even the Pope of Rome did himhomage. And now he had crossed the Pyrenees, and was carrying fire andsword into the fair fields and rich towns of the Spanish Moors; for hehad vowed to punish Marsilius, king of Spain, for the injuries he haddone the French in former years. He had overrun the whole of thathaughty land, and had left neither castle, nor city, nor wall,unbroken, save only the town of Saragossa.
One day Charlemagne sat beneath the blossoming trees of an orchard nearCordova. White was his beard, and flowered was his head; yet stillhandsome was his body, and proud his form. Around him were the noblestof knights, Roland and Oliver and old Duke Namon, and fifteen thousandof the choicest men of France. It was a gala-day for the French, andthe warriors amused themselves with field sports, and many pleasantgames. Then a party of Moorish messengers were brought before theking. They came from Marsilius at Saragossa, who had sent to beg peaceof Charlemagne.
"What will Marsilius give for peace?" asked the king.
"If you will go back to your own country, and cease this unhappy war,"answered they, "then Marsilius binds himself to do this: he will go toAix at Michaelmas, and be baptized; he will do homage then for Spain,and will faithfully hold it in fief from you; he will give you greatstore of treasures,--four hundred mules loaded with gold, and fiftycart-loads of silver, besides numbers of bears and lions and tamegreyhounds, and seven hundred camels, and a thousand moulted falcons.Too long has this cruel war been waging. Marsilius would fain havepeace."
Charlemagne listened to the words of the messengers, but he was notquick to answer. He called together his peers, and laid the matterbefore them.
"What think you of the Moor's offers of peace?" asked he.
"Put no trust in Marsilius!" cried Roland. "He is the most faithlessof Pagans, and speaks only lies. Carry on the war as you have begun,and talk not of peace until Saragossa is ours."
Charlemagne's face grew dark, yet he said not a word. It was plainthat he coveted the treasures which Marsilius had promised. ThenGanelon arose, and with curling lip, thus answered,--
"If Marsilius offers to do fealty for Spain, and to hold it as a giftfrom you, wherefore should we refuse his plea? He who would advise youotherwise cares not what manner of death we die."
And Namon of Bavaria added, "If the Moor is beaten, and cries formercy, it would be an unknightly act to continue warring against him.My voice is for peace."
And all the peers, save Roland and Oliver, cried out, "The duke hathspoken wisely. Let us have peace!"
"It is well," answered Charlemagne, "and so it shall be. But whomshall we send to Saragossa to treat with Marsilius, and to receive thepledges of good faith which he shall give?"
Then arose a great dispute among the peers as to which should undertakethis dangerous errand. Duke Namon, who was never known to shirk aduty, offered to go; but the king would not consent. He liked not topart with his wise old friend, even for a single day.
"I will carry the message," said Roland.
"Not so, my brother," interrupted Oliver. "Thy pride will get thebetter of thy judgment, and thou wilt act rashly. Let me undertake theerrand."
But Charlemagne refused them both. "Neither of you shall go," said he."But you may choose one from among these other barons to be themessenger."
"Then send Ganelon of Mayence," said Roland. "He is in favor of thispeace, and he is most fit to carry the message."
"Yes, send Ganelon of Mayence!" cried all the peers.
Ganelon rose from his seat in rage. Fire flashed from his hazel eyes;his lips quivered; he tore the sable border from his crimson tunic, andstood proudly before Roland. "Fool!" cried he. "Who art thou whowouldst send me to Marsilius? If I but live to come again fromSaragossa, I will deal thee such a blow as thou shalt never forget."
"Speak softly, Sir Ganelon," said Roland. "Men know that I care notfor threats. If thou art afraid of the danger, mayhap the king willallow me to go in thy place."
Hotter than before was Ganelon's wrath; but he held his tongue, andturned humbly toward the king.
"My lord," said he, "since you will that I bear this message toMarsilius, I go. But I know too well the false-hearted Moor to hopethat I shall ever return. I pray you, care for my fair son Baldwin, towhom I leave my lands and all my fiefs. Keep him well, for these eyesof mine shall never see him again."
"Thou art too fearful, and too tender of heart," said the king, as heoffered to Ganelon the staff and the glove which messengers were wontto carry as signs of their office. "Go now, and doubt not the issue ofthine errand."
Ganelon took the staff; but his hand trembled, and the glove fell tothe ground.
"An evil omen is that," whispered the peers who saw it. "It is a signof no good fortune, either to him or to us."
Then Ganelon bade the king good-by, and went on his way. But he saidto himself, "This is Roland's doings, and I shall hate him all my lifelong: neither shall I love Oliver his brother, nor any other of thetwelve peers."
When he reached Saragossa, Ganelon was led into the presence ofMarsilius. The Moorish king sat under a pine tree, and twenty thousandwarriors stood around him.
"What answer bring you from your liege-lord Charlemagne?" asked he.
Ganelon had studied well what he should say; and he answered, like onelong used to cunning guile, "If thou wilt be baptized and become aChristian, Charlemagne will give thee the half of Spain to hold infief. If thou wilt not accept this offer, then he will besiege thee inSaragossa, and take thee prisoner; and he will send thee bound upon theback of a sumter horse to Aix, and there he will have thee put todeath. This is the message which Charlemagne sends thee."
Great was the anger of the Moorish king, and he raised his javelin tostrike the messenger dead. But Ganelon, no whit daunted, set his backagainst the trunk of a tree, and drew his sword part way from itsscabbard.
"Good sword," said he, "thou art fair and bright, and thou hast done memany a service. Never shall it be said that Ganelon died alone in astrange land."
But the courtiers of King Marsilius stepped in between them. "It werebetter," said they, "to treat with this man than to slay him. If hisface slander him not, he is a man who may be persuaded to help us. Tryhim."
Then Marsilius called Ganelon to his side, and offered him five hundredpounds of gold for his friendship. And the two sat long together, andplotted bloodshed and treason.
"Indeed, what think you of this Charlemagne?" asked the Moor. "Throughhow many lands has he carried that old body of his? How many scars arethere on his shield? How many kingdoms has he stolen, and how manykings impoverished? Methinks that his days are well-nigh spent. Hemust be more than two hundred years old."
But Ganelon, although a traitor, would say naught against the king.
"None can see him," said he, "but will say that he is a man. None canso praise or honor him, but that there shall yet be in him more worthand goodness."
"Yet, methinks," said the Moor, "that he is very old. His beard iswhite; his hair is flowered. It is strange that he grows not tired offighting."
"That he will never do so long as Roland, his nephew, lives," answeredGanelon. "There, too, is Oliver; and there are the other peers of therealm, all of whom the king holds most dear. They alone are worthtwenty thousand men."
"I have heard much of Roland," said the Moor; "and I would fain put himout of the way. Tell me how it can be done, and thou shalt have threebaggage-horse loads of gold, three of silver, and three of fine silkand red wine and jewels."
Now Ganelon desired, above all things, the death of Roland; and heeagerly made known his plans to Mar
silius.
"Send to Charlemagne," said he, "great store of rich gifts, so thatevery Frenchman shall wonder at your wealth. Send also hostages, andpromise him that on next Michaelmas you will be baptized at Aix and dohim homage for Spain. Pleased with your promises, he will return toFrance. But his rear-guard, with Roland and Oliver, and twentythousand Frenchmen, will be long among the passes of the Pyrenees. Ahundred thousand Moors could well cope with them there."
Then the two traitors exchanged promises and pledges; and Ganelon,taking with him the keys of Saragossa, and rich presents forCharlemagne, went back to Cordova.
Right glad was Charlemagne to hear the message which the lying traitorbrought. He was tired of warring, and he longed to return in peace tohis own sweet France. The next day the trumpets sounded throughout thecamp. The tents were struck; the baggage was packed on the sumterhorses; the knights mounted their steeds; banners and pennons wavedthick in the air; the great army began its glad march homeward. Joyfulwas the beginning of that march; but, ah, how sad the ending! TheFrench did not see the crafty Moors following them through the uppervalleys, their banners furled, their helmets closed, their lances inrest.
That first night the king was troubled with sad dreams. He thoughtthat Ganelon seized his lance and shook it, and that it fell in pieces.He thought that he hunted in the forest of Ardennes, and that both aboar and a leopard attacked him. A thousand fearful fancies vexed him.Mountains fell upon him and crushed him; the earth yawned and swallowedhim; perils beset him on every side: but amid them all, the face ofGanelon was ever to be seen.
By and by the army came to the Pyrenees, and the great land of Francelay just beyond the mountains.
"To whom now," said the king to his peers, "shall we intrust ourrear-guard while we pass safely through the mountain gates?"
"Give It to Roland, your nephew," said Ganelon. "There is none moreworthy than he."
"And who shall lead the vanguard?"
"Ogier, the Dane. Next to Roland, he is the bravest of your barons."
Right willingly did Roland accept the dangerous trust.
"I will see to it," said he, "that no harm come to the French whilepassing through the gates. Neither pack-horse, nor mule, nor palfrey,nor charger, nor man shall we lose, that shall not be paid for by theblood of our foes."
Then he mounted his steed, and rode back to the rear. And with himwent Oliver and Turpin the archbishop, and twenty thousand valiantfighting-men.
High were the mountains, and gloomy the valleys; dark were the rocks,and fearful were the glens. But the day was fair, and the sky wasclear; and the bright shields of the warriors glittered in the sunlightlike flashes of fire. All at once a sound, as of a thousand trumpetsblowing, was heard in the valley below them. The French knightshearkened.
"Comrades," said Oliver, "methinks that we are followed by the Moors."
"And may God grant us battle and victory!" said Roland earnestly."Well is it that we are here to defend the king. For one should nevermurmur that he suffers distress for his friends: for them, he shouldlose, if need be, both blood and flesh and even life itself."
Then Oliver climbed a high pine tree, and looked down into the grassyvalley behind them. There he beheld such troops of Pagan folk as hehad never seen before.
"Comrades," cried he, "we shall have such a battle as no man has known.The passes are full of armed Moors: their hauberks and glitteringhelmets fill the lower valleys. Great mischief is in store for us, butmay we stand to the field like men!"
"Shame be to him that flees!" said the warriors who heard him.
Bewildered and amazed at sight of so terrible an array of Pagans,Oliver descended from the tree.
"Brother Roland," said he, "I pray thee blow thy horn. The king willhear it, and he will turn him about and come to our succor."
"To do so would be to act as a craven," answered Roland. "Never shallit be said that I feared a foe. I will strike strong strokes with mysword, Durandal. Ill shall it fare with the Pagan traitors."
"Comrade Roland," again said Oliver, "now blow thy horn. Charlemagnewill hear it, and he will make his host return."
"Never," answered Roland, "shall my kinsmen upbraid me, or be blamedfor me. But I will strike with Durandal. The brand which the kinggave me when he knighted me, that shall be our succor."
Then Oliver prayed him the third time, "Comrade Roland, sound now thineivory horn. Charlemagne, who is passing the gates, will hear us andcome to our aid."
"No man shall ever say," answered Roland, "that I have blown my hornfor Pagans. My kinsmen shall not bear that reproach. But when thegreat battle is joined, then you shall see the lightning flashes ofDurandal in the thickest of the fight. A thousand and seven hundredtimes shall the blade be dyed in the blood of the Moors. Better wouldit be to perish than suffer shame."
But Oliver was not yet satisfied. "I have seen the Moorish host," saidhe. "The mountains and the plains, the valleys and the groves, arefull of them. Never have we fought against such great odds."
"Friend and brother," answered Roland, "say not another word. The kinghas left us here, with a rear-guard of twenty thousand men, and heesteems every one of us a hero. Do thou strike with thy lance and thygood blade Haultclear. As for me, Durandal shall serve me well. And,if I die, men shall say, 'This sword belonged to a noble knight.'"
Then the good Archbishop Turpin rode down the ranks, holding a sword inone hand and a crucifix in the other. "Comrades," cried he, "the kinghas left us here. He trusts in us, and for him we shall die. Cry nowyour sins to Heaven. Pray God's mercy, and ask His blessing."
In a moment every knight among those twenty thousand horsemen haddismounted. Humbly and reverently every knee was bent, and every headwas bowed. And the good archbishop blessed the company in God's name.
"If ye die," said he, "ye shall have places in paradise."
Then the warriors arose, light-hearted and hopeful. They rode into theplace which is called Roncevaux, the Vale of Thorns, and there they putthemselves in battle array, and waited the onset of their foes. Rolandsat astride of his good war steed, and proudly faced the Moorish host.In his hand he held the bared blade Durandal, pointing toward heaven.Never was seen a more comely knight. Courteously he spoke to thewarriors about him. Then, putting spurs to his steed, he cried,--
"Comrades, ride onward! The day shall be ours!"
"Forget not the war cry of Charlemagne," said Oliver.
At these words the rocks and valleys rang with the cry, "Monjoie!Monjoie!" And every warrior dashed forward to meet the foe.
Long and fierce was the fight, and terrible was the slaughter. Withheart and strength the French knights struck. The Moors were slain byhundreds and by thousands. For a time victory seemed to be with theFrench. Many and valiant were the deeds achieved by Roland and Oliverand the archbishop and the peers that were with them. But at lengthMarsilius came down upon them with a fresh troop of seven thousandMoors. They hemmed the French heroes in on every side. Roland saw hisknights falling one by one around him. All were slain save sixty men.
"Oliver, my fair dear comrade," said he, "behold how many brave vassalshave fallen! The battle goes hard with us. If, now, we only knew howto send news to Charlemagne, he would return and succor us."
"It is too late," answered Oliver. "Better would we die than suffershame."
Then said Roland, "I will sound my ivory horn. Mayhap Charlemagne, whois passing the gates of Spain, will hear it and return."
"Do no such thing," answered Oliver. "Great shame would be upon youand your kinsmen forever. You would not blow your horn when I advisedit, and now you shall not do so because the day is lost."
Then the archbishop rode up, and said, "The day is indeed lost, and toblow the horn would now no more avail us. But, should the king hearit, he will come back through the passes. He will find us dead: hismen will lift us in biers and carry us home to be buried in minsters,and we shall not be left as food for wolves and dog
s."
"Thou sayest well," said Roland. And he placed the horn to his lips.High were the hills, deep and dark were the gorges, narrow were theways among the mountains. Yet the sound of that horn was heard forthirty leagues. Charlemagne and Duke Namon heard it while yet theywere between the gates.
"Hark!" said the king. "I hear Roland's horn. The felon Moors haveattacked him: he is hard pressed in battle."
"You are foolishly mistaken," said Ganelon. "There is no battle. Youare old, your beard is white, your head is flowery, you are growingchildish. You love your silly nephew, Roland, too well. He is onlyhunting among the mountains. He would blow his horn all day for asingle hare, and then he would boast before you of his valor. Ride on.Your own France is not far ahead."
But the king was not to be deceived. He ordered Ganelon to be seizedand bound and given in charge of his cooks, who were to hold him aclose prisoner. They bound him with a great chain, and laid him acrossthe back of a sumter horse; they pulled his beard; they struck him withtheir fists; they beat him with sticks. Sorry indeed was the traitor'splight, but his punishment was just. As for Charlemagne, he turned andwith all his host hastened back to the succor of Roland and the valiantrear-guard. High were the mountain walls, and darkly did they overhangthe way; deep were the mountain gorges; swift and strong were thetorrents; narrow and steep was the road. The trumpets sounded:anxiously and with haste the king and his horsemen retraced their steps.
Fiercely still the battle raged in the fated Vale of Thorns. One byone the French knights fell; but for every one that was slain tenPagans bit the dust. At length Oliver was wounded unto death; butstill he sat on his horse and struck valiantly about him with his goodHaultclear. His eyes lost their strength: he could not see. He metRoland, and struck him a blow which split his helmet down to thenose-piece, but luckily wounded him not.
"Brother," said Roland softly and gently, "thou hast not done thiswillingly. I am Roland, he who has loved thee so long and so well."
"Ah, comrade!" said Oliver, "I hear thee; but I cannot see thee. Prayforgive me if I have harmed thee."
"I am none the worse," answered Roland; "and there is naught toforgive."
Then the two brothers bent over from their steeds, and embraced eachother; and amid much love and many hasty words of farewell, they parted.
And now all the French were slain, save only Roland and the archbishop.The hero was wounded in a dozen places: he felt his life-blood oozingaway. Again he drew his ivory horn, and feebly sounded it. He wouldfain know whether Charlemagne were coming. The king was in the pass,not far away, and he heard the failing blast.
"Ah, Roland!" said he, "the battle goes ill with thee." Then he turnedto his host, and said, "Blow loud your trumpets, that the hero may knowthat succor comes."
At once sixty thousand bugles were blown so loudly that the valley andthe caves resounded, and the rocks themselves trembled. Roland heardit and thanked God. The Pagans heard it and knew that it boded no goodto them. They rushed in a body upon Roland and the archbishop.Roland's horse was slain beneath him; his shield was split in twain;his hauberk was broken. The archbishop was mortally wounded, andstretched upon the ground. Again the trumpets of Charlemagne's hostwere heard, and the Pagans fled in great haste toward Spain.
Then Roland knelt by the side of the dying archbishop. "Kind friend,so good and true," said he, "now the end has come. Our comrades whomwe held so dear are all dead. Give me leave to bring them and lay themin order by thee, that we may all have thy blessing."
"It is well," answered the good Turpin. "Do as thou wilt. The fieldis thine and mine."
So Roland, weak and faint, went all alone through that field of blood,seeking his friends. He found Berenger and Otho and Anseis and Samson,and proud Gerard of Roussillon; and one by one he brought them and laidthem on the grass before the archbishop. And lastly he brought backOliver, pressed gently against his bosom, and placed him on a shield bythe others. The archbishop wept; and he lifted up his feeble hands andblessed them: "Sad has it been with you, comrades. May God, theglorious King, receive your souls in His paradise!"
Then Roland, faint with loss of blood, and overcome with grief, swoonedand fell to the ground. The good archbishop felt such distress as hehad never known before. He staggered to his feet; he took the ivoryhorn in his hands, and went to fetch water from the brook which flowsthrough the Vale of Thorns. Slowly and feebly he tottered onward, butnot far: his strength failed and he fell to the ground. Soon Rolandrecovered from his swoon and looked about him. On the green grass thisside of the rivulet, he saw the archbishop lying. The good Turpin wasdead.
And now Roland felt that he, too, was nigh death's door. He took theivory horn in one hand, and Durandal in the other, and went up a littlehill that lies toward Spain. He sat down beneath a pine tree wherewere four great blocks of marble. He looked at the blade Durandal."Ha, Durandal," he said, "how bright and white thou art! Thou shinestand flamest against the sun! Many countries have I conquered withthee, and now for thee I have great grief. Better would it be todestroy thee than to have thee fall into the hands of the Pagan folk."
With great effort he raised himself on his feet again. Ten times hesmote with Durandal the great rock before him. But the sword wasbright and whole as ever, while the rock was split in pieces. Then thehero lay down upon the grass, with his face toward the foe. He put thesword and the horn under him. He stretched his right glove towardheaven, and an unseen hand came and took it away. Dead was thematchless hero.
Not long after this King Charlemagne with his host came to thedeath-strewn Vale of Thorns. Great was the grief of the king and ofall the French, when they found that they had come too late to saveeven a single life. Roland was found lying on the grass, his faceturned toward Spain. Charlemagne took him up tenderly in his arms, andwept.
"Friend Roland," said he, "worthiest of men, bravest of warriors,noblest of all my knights, what shall I, say when they in France shallask news of thee? I shall tell them that thou art dead in Spain. Withgreat sorrow shall I hold my realm from this time on. Every day Ishall weep and bewail thee, and wish that my life, too, were ended."
Then the French buried their dead on the field where they had fallen.But the king brought Roland and Oliver and the archbishop to Blaye inFrance, and laid them in white marble tombs; and there they lie untilthis day in the beautiful little chapel of St. Roman's. And he tookthe ivory horn to Bordeaux, and filled it with fine gold, and laid iton the altar of the church in that city; and there it is still seen bythe pious pilgrims who visit that place.
VOCABULARY OF PROPER NAMES
_Ac ar na' ni a_, the most western province of ancient Greece. _A chil' les_ (a kil' lez), the ideal hero of the Greeks. _Ae' gir_ (a' jir), in Norse legends, the ruler of the sea. _Ag a me' des_ (-dez), one of the architects of the temple at Delphi. _Ag a mem' non_, king of Mycenae and leader of the Greeks. _Aix_ (aks), a city of France, favorite residence of Charlemagne. _A' jax_, a Greek hero second only to Achilles. _Al ex an' dros_, a name applied to Paris, prince of Troy. _Al phe' us_, a hunter transformed into a river of Greece. _Al the' a_, queen of Calydon, mother of Meleager. _A mil' i as_, a mythical smith of Burgundy. _And' vae ri_, a dwarf, the keeper of the Rhine treasure. _An til' o chus_ (-kus), a Greek prince and friend of Achilles. _A os' tae_, a town in northern Italy. _Aph ro di' te_, in Greek mythology, the goddess of love. _A pol' lo_, in Greek mythology, the god of music, poetry, and healing. _Ar ca' di a_, a mountainous country in Greece. _Ardennes_ (aer den'), a forest in northern France. _Ar e thu' sa_, a nymph loved by Alpheus. _Ar' go_, the ship that carried Jason and his companions. _Ar' te nis_, twin sister of Apollo; goddess of the woods. _Ar' thur_, a heroic legendary king of Britain. _As' as_ (aes az), the gods of the North. _As' gaerd_, in Norse mythology, the home of the gods or Asas. _Ash' ta roth_, an evil spirit. _At a lan' ta_, an Arcadian princess and swift-footed huntress. _A the' na_, the goddess of knowledge, arts, and sciences. _At' ro pos_, one
of the three Fates. _Au' lis_, a town on the east coast of Greece. _Au tol' y cus_, a famous Greek chieftain, grandfather of Odysseus. _Av' a lon_, fairyland (in mediaeval legends).
_Bal' i os_, "Swift," one of the horses given to Peleus. _Bael' mung_, the sword of Siegfried. _Be' a trice_, the wife of Eego of Belin. _Be go'_ (ba go'), duke of Belin and feudal chief of Gascony. _Ber en ger'_ (-aen zha'), a friend of Bego. _Blaye_ (bla), a seaport of France, 21 miles from Bordeaux. _Bo' re as_, the North Wind. _Bor deaux'_ (-do'), a city on west coast of France. _Bur' gun dy_, a duchy including a part of northeastern France.
_Cal' chas_ (kal' kal), a soothsayer of Mycense. _Cal' y don_, a city in ancient Greece. _Cas san' dra_, a prophetess, the daughter of Priam. _Cas tor_, twin brother of Pollux and brother of Helen. _Cen' taur_, one of an ancient race inhabiting the country near Mount Pelion, said to have the bodies of horses. _Charlemagne_ (shaer' le man), king of the Franks, 742-814. _Cheiron_ (ki' ron), a Centaur famed for his wisdom. _Cle o pa' tra_, the wife of Meleager. _Clo' tho_, one of the three Fates. _Clyt' em nes tra_, the wife of Agamemnon. _Crete (kret)_, an island southeast of Greece. _Cris' sa_, a gulf in Greece, now called Gulf of Corinth.
_Daer' da nus_, ancestor of the people of Troy. _De' los_, a small island east of Greece. _Del' phi_, a town at the foot of Mount Parnassus, the seat of the oracle of Apollo. _Du ran' dal_, the sword of Roland.
_E' lis_, a country in southern Greece. _E' rin_, the ancient name for Ireland. _E' ris_, the goddess of discord. _Euboea_ (u be' a), a large island east of Greece.
_Faef' nir_, a dragon that guarded the Rhine treasure. _Fa nan' der_, a cataract referred to in Norse mythology. _Fro mont'_, duke of Bordeaux.
_Gae' ne lon_, a duke of Mayence noted for his treachery. _Gae rin'_ (-ranh), one of the sons of Bego of Belia. _Gas' co ny_, an ancient duchy of France. _Gerin_ (zhe ranh'), a brother of Bego of Belio.
_Ha' des_, the land of the shades, or of the dead. _Hault'_ clear, the sword of Oliver. _He' be_, the goddess of youth and spring. _Hec' tor_, a prince of Troy, son of Priam. _Hel' en_, the wife of Menelaus, celebrated for her beauty. _He lo ise'_ (ha lo ez'), the sister of Bego of Belin. _He' ra_, the wife of Zeus; often called Juno. _Her' cu les_ (-lez), a mighty hero of the Golden Age of Greece. _Her' mes_ (-mez), the messenger of the gods; same as Mercury. _Her nau din_ (her no danh'), a son of Bego. _He si' o ne_, a princess of Troy, sister of Priam. _Haenir_ (he' nir), a companion of Odio. _Hreidmar_ (hrid' mar), the father of Regin. _Hu' na land_, a country mentioned in Norse mythology. _Hy per bo' re ans_, the people who lived beyond the North Wind.
_I ae' sus_, a king of Arcadia, father of Atalanta. _I' das_, the father of Cleopatra. _I dom' e neus_, a king of Crete, friend of Menelaus. _Il' i os_, the same as Troy; Ilium. _I' lus_, the founder of Ilios or Troy. _Iph i ge ni' a_, a princess, the daughter of Agamemnon. _I' ris_, a messenger of the gods, personification of the rainbow.
_Ja' son_, a Greek hero, the leader of the Argonauts.
_Kwae' ser_, in Norse mythology, a being noted for his wisdom.
_Lac e dae' mon_ (las-), an ancient Greek city, same as Sparta. _Lach' e sis_ (lak-), one of the three Fates. _La om' e don_, a king of Troy, father of Priam. _Lo' ki_, in Norse mythology, the spirit of mischief. _Lor raine'_, a region on the border between France and Germany.
_Ma hom' et_, an Arab, the founder of Mohammedanism. _Mai' a gis_ (-zhe), a dwarf enchanter and magician. _Maer seilles'_ (-salz), a city of France on the Mediterranean.
_Maer sil' i us_, a Moorish king of Spain. _Mayence_ (mae yons'), a city on the Rhine River. _Mel e a' ger_ (-jer), a Greek hero, prince of Calydon. _Mi' mer_, in Norse mythology, the possessor of the well of wisdom. _Mor' gan le Fay_, the queen of the fairies. _My ce' nae_, a city of ancient Greece.
_Nae' mon_, Charlemagne's most trusted counsellor. _Ne' reus_, "the old man of the sea," father of the sea nymphs. _Nes' tor_, king of Pylos, oldest of the Greek heroes at Troy.
_O' din_, in Norse mythology the chief of the gods. _O dys' seus_, the wisest of the Greek heroes; same as Ulysses. _Oenone_ (e no' ne), a river nymph, the wife of Paris. _Ogier_ (o zha), a Danish hero under Charlemagne. _Oi' neus_, a king of Calydon, father of Meleager. _Ol' i ver_, one of Charlemagne's paladins, comrade of Roland, _O lym' pus_, a mountain in Greece, the home of the gods. _O res' tes_, the son of Agamemnon. _Orleans_ (or la on'), an important city in France. _Or sil' o chus_, a king of the ancient city of Pherae.
_Pal a me' des_, a Greek hero in the war with Troy. _Par' is_, a prince of Troy, second son of Priam. _Paer nas' sus_, a mountain in Greece near Delphi. _Pe' leus_, the father of Achilles. _Pe' li on_, a mountain on the east coast of Greece. _Pep' in_, a king of the Franks, father of Charlemagne. _Phoe' bus_, another name for Apollo. _Pied' mont_, a district in northern Italy. _Pol' lux_, the twin brother of Castor, and brother of Helen. _Po sei' don_, supreme lord of the sea; same as Neptune. _Pri' am_, the last king of Troy. _Pu elle'_, an ancient forest in France. _Py' los_, an ancient town in the south part of Greece. _Pyr' e nees_, the mountains between France and Spain. _Py' thon_, the serpent slain by Apollo.
_Raen_, in Norse mythology, the goddess of the sea. _Re' gin_ (-jin), a dwarf, the instructor of Siegfried. _Ro' land_, the most famous of Charlemagne's paladins. _Ronce vaux'_ (-vo), a valley in Navarre, Spain, in the Pyrenees. _Roussillon_ (roo se' yon'), an ancient district of France.
_St. Omer_ (sen to mar'), a famous city in northern France. _St. Quentin_ (saan kon tan'), a city in northeastern France. _Sal a mis_, an island of ancient Greece. _Sar' a cens_, the Arab followers of Mohammed. _Scae' an_ (ske' an), the principal gate of Troy. _Sca man' der_, a river near Troy. _Seine_ (san), one of the principal rivers of France. _Sieg' fried_, a mythical hero of the Rhine country. _Si' gyn_, the wife of Loki. _Skae de_, in Norse mythology, the goddess of the snow.
_Tel' a mon_, a Greek hero, the father of Ajax. _Thes sa' li an_, belonging to Thessaly in northern Greece. _The' tis_, a sea nymph, the mother of Achilles. _Tro pho' ni us_, one of the architects of the temple at Delphi. _Tur' pin_, archbishop of Rheims, and paladin of Charlemagne.
_Valenciennes_ (vae lon syen'), a city in northeastern France. _Vul' can_, the blacksmith of the gods.
_Xanthos_ (zan' thus), "Old Gold," one of the horses of Peleus.
_Zeus_, the king of the gods; same as Jupiter.
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