King Marsilius was to arrive early next day with the tribute, and Oliver, with the morning sun, rode forth to reconnoitre, and see if he could discover the peaceful pomp of the Spanish court in the distance.  He rode up the nearest height, and from the top of it beheld the first army of Marsilius already forming in the passes.  “O devil Gan,” he exclaimed, “this then is the consummation of thy labors!” Oliver put spurs to his horse, and galloped back down the mountain to Orlando.

“Well,” cried the hero, “what news?”

“Bad news,” said his cousin, “such as you would not hear of yesterday.  Marsilius is here in arms, and all the world is with him.”

The paladins pressed round Orlando, and entreated him to sound his horn, in token that he needed help.  His only answer was to mount his horse, and ride up the mountain with Sansonetto.

As soon, however, as he cast forth his eyes, and beheld what was round about him, he turned in sorrow, and looked down into Roncesvalles, and said, “O miserable valley! the blood shed in thee this day will color thy name forever.”

Orlando’s little camp were furious against the Saracens.  They armed themselves with the greatest impatience.  There was nothing but lacing of helmets and mounting of horses, while good Archbishop Turpin went from rank to rank exhorting and encouraging the warriors of Christ.  Orlando and his captains withdrew for a moment to consultation.  He fairly groaned for sorrow, and at first had not a word to say, so wretched he felt at having brought his people to die in Roncesvalles.  Then he said:  “If it had entered into my heart to conceive the king of Spain to be such a villain never would you have seen this day.  He has exchanged with me a thousand courtesies and good words; and I thought that the worse enemies we had been before, the better friends we had become now.  I fancied every human being capable of this kind of virtue on a good opportunity, saving, indeed, such base-hearted wretches as can never forgive their very forgivers; and of these I did not suppose him to be one.  Let us die, if die we must, like honest and gallant men, so that it shall be said of us it was only our bodies that died.  The reason why I did not sound the horn was partly because I thought it did not become us, and partly because our liege lord could hardly save us, even if he heard it.”  And with these words Orlando sprang to his horse, crying, “Aways against the Saracens!” But he had no sooner turned his face than he wept bitterly, and said, “O Holy Virgin, think not of me, the sinner Orlando, but have pity on these thy servants!”