ANST - FW: Musing on August 15th -- Charlie and the Magic Horn

[j'lynn yeates]

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- -----Original Message-----
From: Ellsworth Weaver [mailto:astroweaver at yahoo.com]
Sent: Wednesday, August 16, 2000 00:24
To: 2thpix at surfari.net
Subject: Musing on August 15th -- Charlie and the Magic Horn


Dear Folk,

Today, as tradition has it, August 15, 778, the rearguard of
Charlemagne’s forces were wiped out on the road between Moorish Spain
and France. It was on a trail leading through the Pyrenees mountains
known as Roncevalles (Roncevaux in French).

Western Europe had been falling into a funk when Charlemagne became
joint king of the Franks in 768. Except in the monasteries, people
had
all but forgotten education and the arts. Boldly Charlemagne whacked
on
barbarians and Christians alike to get some action going, something
to
unify Europe. Okay, that sounds suspiciously like Hitler and other
dictators. Charlie was who he was; no excuses.

Charlie’s grandpa was Charles Martel (means "hammer" by the way) no
relation to Rick or Sherri Martel of wrestling fame. Martel had
whomped
up on the Saracens to set a good example for grandson. Charlemagne’s
folks were Bertrade ("Bertha Greatfoot") and Pepin the Short. Now
doesn’t that sound like good hobbit parents? Kid had to grow up
tough.
Some folks think that Charlie learned to read from his mom. Nice to
think he had some education. He loved the Christian Church, that is
for
sure.

Charlie was tall, blond and buff. He was a great big jock who loved
hunting, riding and swimming. Liked blue cloaks and ermine coats.
Darn
it! He was kingly! He was knightly. He even would spare an occasional
foe. True, did whack 4500 Saxons after an uprising but it was
business,
nothing personal. He kicked out two of his four wives without giving
them any reason. On the up side, his mom and the other two wives (who
knew where he slept) would often rule the roost.

In 772, Charlie launched a 30 year campaign to conquer and make very
Christian Europe. That included beating down the Saxons up north in
Holland, the Avars (Tartar dudes) on the Danube, Bavarians in
southern
Germany, Lombards in Italy. The young king was formidable. He
launched
over 50 campaigns and rode at the head of at least half of them. He
was
a demon for details; could tell his folks what to bring and what not
to
bother with; even supervised baggage wagon loading.

In 778 he went to Spain. It seemed that a Saracen ruler had promised,
for reasons unclear, the city of Saragossa. . He entered Spain by the
Eastern Pyrenees, and made an easy conquest of Barcelona and
Pampeluna.
But Saragossa refused to open her gates to him, and Charles ended by
negotiating, and accepting a vast sum of gold as the price of his
return over the Pyrenees. Sacrifices had to be made. The troops were
missing Bob Hope’s show.

On the way over, Charlie managed to upset the Basques who not only
did
not like the Saracens, did not like the French either. They were much
like mountain people anywhere: proud, independent and suspicious of
strangers. Charlie insured their cooperation by taking hostages among
the locals.

On his way back, he marched with his whole army through the gorges of
the mountains by way of the valleys of Engui, Eno, and Roncesvalles.
The chief of the region had played it cool and let Charlemagne cross
the first time, as a faithful vassal of the monarchy. On the return
of
the Franks, he called together all the wild mountaineers who
acknowledged him as their chief, and they occupied the heights of the
mountains under which the army had to pass.

Old trick we learned in Vietnam (and the Basque already knew): let
the
main body go through and then ambush the straggling rearguard. Sure
enough, the main body of the troops met with no obstruction, and
received no hint of danger; but the rear-guard, which was
considerably
behind, and encumbered with its plunder, was bushwhacked by the
mountaineers in the pass of Roncesvalles, and slain to a man. Some of
the bravest of the Frankish chiefs perished on this occasion, among
whom is mentioned Roland or Orlando. As Einhard noted in his "Life of
Charlemagne," a few nobles were killed, including "Hrudoland, lord of
the Marches of Brittany."

We will talk more about Charlie in another column, I would hope.
Instead, let’s talk a bit about the epic poem "The Song of Roland."
No,
I am not going to quote it for you. It is about 4000 lines long. It
was
written about the year 1100 (only 300 + years after the event) in
northern France – we think. It is a chansons de geste – a song which
tells knights how to behave, a recounting of bravery, chivalry, the
code of the paladin.

The poem relates that the Frankish king Charlemagne was fighting the
Saracens in Spain for seven years when trouble at home compelled him
to
return. He left Roland and a small band to guard the rear of his army
by holding the pass at Roncesvalles. Soon an army of 400,000 Saracens
attacked the heroic band. Roland fought in the front of the battle
with
his sword, Durandal. Even the utmost in studly heroism, however,
could
not defeat the enemy hordes. Finally Roland was urged by his comrade
Oliver to summon aid from Charlemagne by sounding his horn. The horn,
named "Olifant," had been given to Roland by Charlemagne. Of all the
knights, only Roland could sound it. On hearing it, birds fell from
the
trees, the ground shook, chimneys fell from houses, and people cried
out from the pain in their ears. It was not unlike William Shatner
singing. Only when in deadliest peril would Roland sound it, and he
refused to do so. One by one the Frankish knights fell. Soon only a
few
remained alive. Then Roland raised his horn. Charlemagne turned back,
but it was too late. The little band had been slain, and Roland lay
dying.

There is much more to the poem: some real posers of questions. For
example, Roland speaks first in a major council of war, yet he is
supposedly very young. Roland’s stepfather tries to call Roland on
that, and Roland ridicules him and gets away with it. Then
stepfather,
Ganelon, who swears a vengeance against his stepson, is nominated by
Roland to go as an ambassador to the Saracens – last two had been
returned in baggies, small baggies – and Charlie says "sure." It is
Ganelon who, in the poem, turns traitor and has Roland whacked: tells
the Saracens where to wait in ambush; tells Charlie that the horn is
just Roland hunting. It is an altogether fine poem full of slicing
and
dicing. It also has some real food for thought. You medieval folk out
there, go read the darned poem online at

http://sunsite.berkeley.edu/OMACL/Roland/

I guarantee you a chance for some great arguments amidst the scenes
of
brains running out of folks ears and Saracens being cut right down
the
middle. Gosh, and folks ask me why I love history!

With that in mind, I ask you what have we learned? Jocks make good
kings? Knowing what to pack is over half the battle? No matter how
big
and famous you get, your mom and wife usually can whup your butt?
Don’t
alienate those who guard your road home? How about age and cunning
win
over youth and brawn every time? In my dreams, I know, I know.

If you wish to send my missives across the Pyrenees, do leave my name
and sig attached.

Happy Birthday to England’s Princess Anne!

Blowing on my Olifant,
J.  Ellsworth Weaver

SCA – Sir Balthazar of Endor
AS – Polyphemus Theognis
TRV – Sebastian Yeats


=====
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