“If Marsilius offers to do fealty for Spain, and to hold it as a gift from you, wherefore should we refuse his plea?  He who would advise you otherwise cares not what manner of death we die.”

And Namon of Bavaria added, “If the Moor is beaten, and cries for mercy, 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 hath spoken wisely.  Let us have peace!”

“It is well,” answered Charlemagne, “and so it shall be.  But whom shall we send to Saragossa to treat with Marsilius, and to receive the pledges of good faith which he shall give?”

Then arose a great dispute among the peers as to which should undertake this dangerous errand.  Duke Namon, who was never known to shirk a duty, offered to go; but the king would not consent.  He liked not to part 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 the better of thy judgment, and thou wilt act rashly.  Let me undertake the errand.”

But Charlemagne refused them both.  “Neither of you shall go,” said he.  “But you may choose one from among these other barons to be the messenger.”

“Then send Ganelon of Mayence,” said Roland.  “He is in favor of this peace, 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, and stood proudly before Roland.  “Fool!” cried he.  “Who art thou who wouldst send me to Marsilius?  If I but live to come again from Saragossa, I will deal thee such a blow as thou shalt never forget.”

“Speak softly, Sir Ganelon,” said Roland.  “Men know that I care not for threats.  If thou art afraid of the danger, mayhap the king will allow me to go in thy place.”

Hotter than before was Ganelon’s wrath; but he held his tongue, and turned humbly toward the king.

“My lord,” said he, “since you will that I bear this message to Marsilius, I go.  But I know too well the false-hearted Moor to hope that I shall ever return.  I pray you, care for my fair son Baldwin, to whom I leave my lands and all my fiefs.  Keep him well, for these eyes of mine shall never see him again.”

“Thou art too fearful, and too tender of heart,” said the king, as he offered to Ganelon the staff and the glove which messengers were wont to carry as signs of their office.  “Go now, and doubt not the issue of thine errand.”

Ganelon took the staff; but his hand trembled, and the glove fell to the ground.

“An evil omen is that,” whispered the peers who saw it.  “It is a sign of no good fortune, either to him or to us.”

Then Ganelon bade the king good-by, and went on his way.  But he said to himself, “This is Roland’s doings, and I shall hate him all my life long:  neither shall I love Oliver his brother, nor any other of the twelve peers.”