When Ganelon had finished speaking, the King threw his arms about his neck and kissed him.  Then turning to his slaves, he commanded them to bring great treasure of gold, and silver and precious stones, and lay it at the feet of the knight.

“But swear to me,” said Marsil, “that Roland shall be in the rear-guard, and swear to me his death.”

And Ganelon, laying his hand upon his sword Murglies, swore by the holy relics therein, that he would bring Roland to death.

Then came a heathen knight who gave to Ganelon a sword, the hilt of which glittered with gems so that the eyes were dazzled in looking upon it.  “Let but Roland be in the rear-guard,” he said, “and it is thine.”  Then he kissed Ganelon on both cheeks.

Soon another heathen knight followed him, laughing joyfully.  “Here is my helmet,” he cried.  “It is the richest and best ever beaten out of steel.  It is thine so that thou truly bring Roland to death and shame.”  And he, too, kissed Ganelon.

Next came Bramimonde, Marsil’s queen.  She was very beautiful.  Her dark hair was strung with pearls, and her robes of silk and gold swept the ground.  Her hands were full of glittering gems.  Bracelets and necklaces of gold, rubies and sapphires fell from her white fingers.  “Take these,” she said, “to thy fair lady.  Tell her that Queen Bramimonde sends them to her because of the great service thou hast done.”  And bowing low, she poured the sparkling jewels into Ganelon’s hands.  Thus did the heathen reward Ganelon for his treachery.

“Ho there!” called King Marsil to his treasurer, “are my gifts for the Emperor ready?”

“Yea, Sire,” answered the treasurer, “seven hundred camels’ load of silver and gold and twenty hostages, the noblest of the land; all are ready.”

Then King Marsil leant his hand on Ganelon’s shoulder.  “Wise art thou and brave,” he said, “but in the name of all thou holdest sacred, forget not thy promise unto me.  See, I give thee ten mules laden with richest treasure, and every year I will send to thee as much again.  Now take the keys of my city gates, take the treasure and the hostages made ready for thine Emperor.  Give them all to him, tell him that I yield to him all that he asks, but forget not thy promise that Roland shall ride in the rear-guard.”

Impatient to be gone, Ganelon shook the King’s hand from his shoulder.  “Let me tarry no longer,” he cried.  Then springing to horse he rode swiftly away.

Meanwhile Charlemagne lay encamped, awaiting Marsil’s answer.  And as one morning he sat beside his tent, with his lords and mighty men around him, a great cavalcade appeared in the distance.  And presently Ganelon, the traitor, drew rein before him.  Softly and smoothly he began his treacherous tale.  “God keep you,” he cried; “here I bring the keys of Saragossa, with treasure rich and rare, seven hundred camels’ load of silver and gold and twenty hostages of the noblest of the heathen host.  And King Marsil bids me say, thou shalt not blame him that his uncle the calif comes not too, for he is dead.  I myself saw him as he set forth with three hundred thousand armed men upon the sea.  Their vessels sank ere they had gone far from the land, and he and they were swallowed in the waves.”  Thus Ganelon told his lying tale.