“’Sir King Baldwin, for God’s sake, speak!  I am your love, mistake me not.  If I have offended you in aught, it shall be made amends for wholly to your pleasure; but speak to me.  For you was my body baptized and lifted; my heart leans on you, and all my affections, and if you fail me, it will be ill done.  Too soon it seems to me, if already you repent.  Baldwin, is it a trick?  Are you deceiving me?  Speak to me, friend, if you can....  I see your garments dyed and bloody, but I do not believe that you are killed; there is no man so bold or so outrageous who ever could kill you; he durst not do so.  But I think by such a will you wish to try me, how I should behave if you were departed.  Speak to me, for God’s sake who was born of virgin, and for that lady who kept chastity, and for the holy cross whereon Jesus suffered!  Try me no more, friend, it is enough; I shall die now if you tarry longer,’ ‘Naymes,’ says the king, ’take this lady away; if I see her grief any more, I shall go mad.’

“That night he ate no bread nor drank wine, but had the city watched, and rode the rounds himself, with helmet closed, his great buckler hanging to his neck, his sword in his fist.  All the night it rained and blew; the water ran through the joints of his hauberk, and wetted his ermine pelisse beneath.  His beard swayed, whiter than flax, his long moustache quivered; until dawn he lamented his nephew, and the twelve peers, and all his next-of-kin who were dead.  From the gate at morn a Saxon, King Dyalas, defies the old man, swearing that he will wear his crown in Paris.  The Emperor has the gate opened, and sallies forth to meet him.  They engage in single combat; the old Emperor kills the Saxon’s horse, disarms him, and only spares his life on condition of his embracing Christianity and yielding himself prisoner.

“The rest of the poem has comparatively little interest.  Old Naymes in turn kills his man—­a brother of Guiteclin—­in single combat, Dyalas, the Emperor’s new vassal, ‘armed in French fashion,’ performs wonders in honour of his new allegiance.  Finally the Herupese come up, and of course overthrow the Saxons.  An abbey is founded on the field of battle, which Sebile enters; Dyalas, baptized as ‘Guiteclin the convert,’ receives charge of the kingdom, and the Emperor returns, bearing with him the bodies of Baldwin and Berard; after which ’well was France in peace many a year and many a day; the Emperor found not any who should make him wroth.’”

Fastrada:  a Legend of Aix-la-Chapelle

Fastrada, we are told, was the fourth wife of the Emperor Charlemagne and the best beloved.  Historians have judged that the lady was by no means worthy of the extraordinary affection bestowed upon her by her husband, some maintaining that she practised the arts of sorcery, others crediting her with political intrigues, and still others roundly asserting that she was not so virtuous as she should have been.

History failing to account for Charlemagne’s devotion to his fourth wife, the task has devolved upon tradition.  Once upon a time (so runs the tale), when Charlemagne dwelt at Zurich, he had a pillar erected before his house, and on the top of the pillar a bell was placed, so that any one desiring justice had but to ring it to be immediately conducted before the Emperor, there to have his case considered.