Rogero had alighted from his horse, and stood respectfully before the Emperor.  Charlemagne bade him remount and ride beside him; and omitted nothing which might do him honor in sight of his martial train.  With pomp triumphal and with festive cheer the troop returned to the city; the streets were decorated with garlands, the houses hung with rich tapestry, and flowers fell like rain upon the conquering host from the hands of fair dames and damsels, from every balcony and window.  So welcomed, the mighty Emperor passed on till he reached the royal palace, where many days he feasted, high in hall, with his lords, amid tourney, revel, dance, and song.

When Rinaldo told his father, Duke Aymon, how he had promised his sister to Rogero, his father heard him with indignation, having set his heart on seeing her united to the Grecian Emperor’s son.  The Lady Beatrice, her mother, also appealed to Bradamante herself to reject a knight who had neither title nor lands, and give the preference to one who would make her Empress of the wide Levant.  But Bradamante, though respect forbade her to refuse her mother’s entreaty, would not promise to do what her heart repelled, and answered only with a sigh, until she was alone, and then gave a loose to tears.

Meanwhile Rogero, indignant that a stranger should presume to rob him of his bride, determined to seek the Prince of Greece, and defy him to mortal combat.  With this design he donned his armor, but exchanged his crest and emblazonment, and bore instead a white unicorn upon a crimson field.  He chose a trusty squire, and, commanding him not to address him as Rogero, rode on his quest.  Having crossed the Rhine and the Austrian countries into Hungary, he followed the course of the Danube till he reached Belgrade.  There he saw the imperial ensigns spread, and white pavilions, thronged with troops, before the town.  For the Emperor Constantine was laying siege to the city to recover it from the Bulgarians, who had taken it from him not long before.

A river flowed between the camp of the Emperor and the Bulgarians, and at the moment when Rogero approached, a skirmish had begun between the parties from either camp, who had approached the stream for the purpose of watering.  The Greeks in that affray were four to one, and drove back the Bulgarians in precipitate rout.  Rogero, seeing this, and animated only by his hatred of the Grecian prince, dashed into the middle of the flying mass, calling aloud on the fugitives to turn.  He encountered first a leader of the Grecian host in splendid armor, a nephew of the Emperor, as dear to him as a son.  Rogero’s lance pierced shield and armor, and stretched the warrior breathless on the plain.  Another and another fell before him, and astonishment and terror arrested the advance of the Greeks, while the Bulgarians, catching courage from the cavalier, rally, change front, and chase the Grecian troops, who fly in their turn.  Leo, the prince, was at a distance when this sudden