476 MEDIAEVAL LITERATURE. 



will be your death !" The poor queen now feels unspeakably sorry 

 for her thoughtless sally. Bathed in tears, she flings herself down 

 at the emperor's feet. Truly, it was but a harmless joke! God 

 Almighty may be her judge ! She is prepared to hurl herself down 

 from the highest steeple in the city to prove her innocence. It is 

 all in vain. The emperor tramples the earth for sheer fury. "His 

 name! His name, I say," thus he bellows, "or I shall kill you!" 

 Maddened with fear, the poor queen casts about for a name, seizes 

 the first that she can think of, and replies in agony: "Hugo, the 

 Emperor of Constantinopel." That is enough. He accepts the 

 challenge. Charles will pit himself against that much vaunted 

 Hugo ! His intention had been, for some time, to go on a pil- 

 grimage to the Holy Land and to worship on the tomb of the Lord. 

 So much the greater the urgency not to tarry any longer. From 

 Jerusalem to Paris the road lies via Constantinopel ! 



Thirteen strong mules are saddled and harnessed forthwith. 

 Unarmed, with only a pilgrim's mantle, scrip and staff, Charle- 

 magne and his twelve paladins start on their journey, and the 

 queen, who is weeping bitterly, remains alone in the empty, vacant 

 church. 



The party arrive at Jerusalem and visit the glorious marble 

 church, where Christ himself has sung at mass and eaten the last 

 supper with his disciples. The twelve stalls of the apostles are still 

 there; and next to these stands the thirteenth, closed up and sealed. 

 Without hesitation and fearless, fully conscious of his dignity, the 

 Frankish emperor breaks lock and seals and sits down on the sacred 

 throne, beckoning to the peers to follow his example. A Jew, who 

 happens to enter the church when all of them are seated, stands 

 dumbfounded at the sight, and is overcome to such an extent that, 

 shivering with awe, he has himself baptised on the spot. The grey- 

 haired patriarch now arrives and kneels down in front of the 

 impressive stranger "You would like to know who I am," says 

 the king to the priest. "My name is Charles; my cradle stood in 

 France ; twelve kings I conquered and now I am on my way to 

 visit the thirteenth, whom I want to crush in the same manner." 

 The worthy patriarch ovei-whelms his guests with honours, and at 

 Charles' request distributes among them as many holy relics as he 

 can gather together : the arm on which Simeon carried the infant 

 Jesus, body clothes of the Holy Virgin, a nail from the true cross, 

 a few hairs from St. Peter's beard, Lazarus' head, and many 

 others. The prelate requires no thanks ; if only the emperor 

 promises him to make war on the infidels in Spain he will hold 

 himself amply rewarded. Four months the pilgrims spend in the 

 Holy City. Then they depart for Jericho, there to gather palm 

 branches. From Jericho they start for Constantinopel ; the magic 

 power of the holy relics which they are carrying enables them to 

 cross dryshod all rivers, creeks, and lakes. The pearl of the east 

 erelong looms in the distance ; they arrive while it is shining in 

 its utmost glory. The Frankish knights are all but dazzled by 

 the splendour and magnificence that now beams upon them. At 

 the very precincts they cross the most lovely forests of pine and 



