The Song of Roland

(Full Summary with Analysis)

First Section (Laisses 1-38, or lines 1-511):
Summary:
For seven years, Charlemagne has made war in Spain against the Saracens. He has conquered the entire
country, except for the stronghold of Saragossa, which is held by the pagan King Marsile. Seeing that defeat is
inevitable, King Marsile, in repose in his garden, calls an assembly of 20,000 men to ask their advice. Only the
lord Blancandrin speaks up, and he offers a plan of treachery. Marsile should sue for peace, offering to be
Charlemagne's tribute-giving vassal and to be baptized as a Christian in Charlemagne's capital, Aix. To
guarantee good behavior, they will offer their own sons as hostages. Charlemagne will leave Spain, to await
Marsile in Aix. But neither the promised treasure nor Marsile will arrive. Although the French king will then kill
the hostages, the military threat will be over. The Saracens unanimously approve of this plan, and Marsile
sends "ten of his most treacherous men" (l. 69) to act as emissaries.
Charles, having just conquered the city of Cordoba, is resting in a garden, surrounded by some of his vassals.
Marsile's emissaries, led by Blancandrin, approach bearing olive branches and a gift of ten white mules.
Blancandrin gives Charles Marsile's offer. Charles considers carefully: although he does not exactly trust
Marsile, he has been in Spain for seven years and is an old man. He calls his vassals to discuss the proposal.
Roland, one of Charlemagne's twelve peers and the most beloved of Charlemagne's vassals, urges the king to
refuse the offer. Marsile has proved treacherous in the past; he sued for peace on a previous occasion, but
when Charlemagne sent two trusted emissaries Marsile had them beheaded.
Ganelon, Roland's stepfather, speaks next. He brutally criticizes Roland's advice, characterizing it as foolhardy
and uncaring about the Christians who will die if the war continues. A wise duke named Naimes speaks next, in
more measured tones: since Marsile is in effect already defeated, and is now begging for mercy, it would be
sinful to proceed. Charles asks whom they shall send as the emissary. Duke Naimes immediately volunteers, but
Charlemagne cannot spare him. He needs the trusted councilor by his side. Roland volunteers, but his friend
Oliver, another one of the twelve peers, voices disapproval, because Roland is far too hotheaded for the job.
Oliver volunteers. Charlemagne again vetoes these proposals, saying he cannot spare any of the twelve peers.
The warrior-archbishop Turpin volunteers next, and is likewise shot down.
Roland nominates Ganelon, who is furious, and believes that Roland wants him to do. He threatens Roland, but
Roland coldly dismisses the threat and says that he only sought a wise emissary. He offers to go in Ganelon's
place, which makes Ganelon angrier. Ganelon accepts the task, certain that he will die. He tells Charlemagne
that he hates Roland, and he also hates Oliver and the rest of the twelve peers because they love Roland.
Charlemagne rebukes him, insists on him going, and invests authority in him by giving him his staff and his
glove. But Ganelon drops the glove, which the rest of the Franks take as an evil premonition.
Blessed by Charlemagne, Ganelon departs with staff and letter in tow. During the journey, he talks to
Blancandrin, and the two villains plot Roland's death. Ganelon and Blancandrin go before Marsile, who is seated
outdoors and surrounded by opulence. The meeting gets off to a rocky start, as Ganelon tells Marsile that if he
does not comply with Charles demands, he will be captured and executed. Marsile is furious, and moves to
strike Ganelon, but he is restrained. Ganelon holds his ground, impressing the Saracens.
Marsile reads Charlemagne's letter aloud. Charlemagne bids him to remember Basan and Basile, the executed
Frankish emissaries, and says that if he wishes to redeem his life, he should send his uncle the caliph. Marsile's
son demands the right to kill Ganelon for his insolence; Ganelon brandishes his sword, ready to fight. But
Marsile goes into private council in his garden, where Blancandrin tells him that Ganelon is willing to help
them. They summon Ganelon into the garden, and begin to plot Roland's death.

Analysis:
The Song of Roland is narrated in chronological order, that is, in the same order in which the events take
place. This kind of narration is not as common as one might think: in most epics, we begin in the middle of
things and find out about past events as they are recounted orally or mentally by characters. The Aeneid, for
example, starts with the Trojans already exiled and wandering at sea, but later on characters recount in detail
the fall of Troy. In part, the approach used in the Aeneid has to do with the tremendous amount of material
epic poets are working with. Virgil is dealing with a long and difficult quest for a promised land, with an
incredibly rich and long backstory that includes a ten-year war; to create an effective and unified work of art,
playing with the timeline is often necessary.
There is no such play in The Song of Roland. Although we are told that it is the seventh year of Charlemagne's
war in Spain, the poet fills in all necessary background immediately at the beginning of the poem. Throughout
the poem, there are no flashbacks, no deviation from the story of Roland's battle and the revenge exacted by
his lord Charlemagne. This approach creates its own problems.
Homer and Virgil are master storytellers: through playing with the timeline, they create incredibly unified
stories from vast and rich material. The pacing is often breathtaking.
By choosing to narrate the story in the straightforward fashion, the anonymous composer of The Song of Roland
does not need to worry about where and when to fill in backstory. But this approach is also less exciting, and
the poet risks writing an epic that plods, dutifully but passionlessly, from start to finish. The scope of events is
grand, and the poem covers a long stretch of time.
What protects The Song of Roland from this kind of uninspired pace is the rhythm the poet settles upon: he
alternates short, summary-style segments, without dialogue and condensing longer periods of time, with much
more detailed segments that read almost like drama. So in this opening, we have all of the backstory we need,
summary style, in the first laisse. Immediately following is Marsile's desperate council in Saragossa, which
opens with rich description of the setting, and then moves into passages full of dialogue as the king and his
councilors hatch their plan to rid themselves of Charlemagne. Laisse 7 is another summary piece, short and
sweet, that condenses Blancandrin's voyage to King Charles. What follows is Blancandrin's offer to King Charles
and the dramatic argument that ensues amongst Charlemagne and his vassals. Dialogue dominates, and we are
made to see the event as it unfolds. Laisse 31 condenses the time of Ganelon's journey to Saragossa, during
which he agrees with Blancandrin to try to bring about the death of Roland. The narrator reveals this
development to us, but we do not hear the dialogue when they actually make their agreement. And then, all of
a sudden, we are at the court of Saragossa, where another series of dialogue-heavy laisses ensues. This kind of
rhythm is used throughout much of the poem.
One of the striking features of the poem is its symmetry, both in structure and in its characters. The poem's
two halves are dominated by two battles, the first won by evil, the second one by good. The epic starts in
council as both sides decide what they will do; it ends in council as Charles tries to decide what should be done
in the aftermath of his victory.
The same symmetry applies to characters. Our first encounters with Charlemagne and Marsile set up the
parallels between the two men. Both are in repose in their gardens, surrounded by their vassals. These
parallels will be developed later. The composer of the poem chooses to make the Saracens a mirror image of
the Christians, socially and religiously, and accuracy be damned. In the poem, the Saracen answer to the
Christian trinity is a villainous trinity of Mohammed, Apollo, and Termagant (ignoring the fact that Moslems
could arguably be seen as more monotheistic than the trinity-worshipping Christians). The Moslems become the
evil mirror image of the Christians, in every aspect of their beliefs and their social organization.
The poet transposes medieval European feudalism on the Saracens' social structure. In part, it is because the
poet probably could not imagine another social structure; inaccuracies of this kind were not unique to
depictions of exotic enemies, nor were they unique to the poet who composed The Song of Roland. In Chaucer's

Canterbury Tales, for example, stories set in ancient Greece have knights and feudal kings, and Shakespeare
usually remolded his more exotic settings into something more or less resembling Elizabethan England.
In the case of The Song of Roland, imposing medieval European social organization on the Moslems makes them
more accessible, or even sympathetic, as enemies. Feudalism carries with it a system of beliefs and values that
would have been immediately recognizable to Europeans. Part of the composer's challenge is to create a
struggle between good and evil, with the Saracens unambiguously evil, while maintaining the Saracen's status
as a formidable and respectable enemy. Feudal Saracens provides the answer: they may be evil, Apolloworshipping, dark-skinned devils, but they have a concept of loyalty, tied to the bonds between lords and
vassals, that is not so different from values admired by the poem's Christian audience.
And the poet sets up strong parallels between Charlemagne and Marsile, and the way in which they rule. Both
rely on their vassals for council and support, although the final decision rests with the monarch. Both have one
particularly trusted advisor, Naimes for Charlemagne and Blancandrin for Marsile. And both groups of men take
their identity and their honor from the land. Although the Sarcen willingness to sacrifice their own sons to keep
Spain reveals their ruthlessness, it also shows an unsurprising devotion to land as the foundation for manhood,
honor, and nobility. Roland, remember, displays a similar unwillingness to give up Spain. He is willing to
continue the war, even if it means losing more Christian lives, because he has no trust for the Moslems and
Spain is worth the fight.
Note that suspense is not part of the pleasure of the poem. We know Marsile will lose from the first laisse, and
why: "He serves Muhammed and calls upon Apollo. / He cannot prevent disaster from overtaking him" (ll. 8-9).
Likewise, we know from early on that Ganelon is treacherous.
Readers looking for the rich character development found in epics like the Mahabharata or the Iliad are likely
to be disappointed by The Song of Roland. Characters are sketched for us with minimal strokes, and the
richness of characterization found in Homer or Virgil simply does not exist here. For this reason, first meetings
with the characters are important, as the poet tries to establish character right away. Charles is the perfect
Christian feudal king, a warrior who is old but hale, generous with his vassals and wise enough to seek their
advice. Oliver, Roland's companion and one of the twelve peers, is wise and prudent: he councils against
sending Roland as emissary, because of Roland's fiery temper (ll. 255-7).
Roland is the poem's hero and most glamorous warrior. He is lacking in some of the majesty of Charlemagne
and lacks the wisdom and intelligence of Oliver, but the poem, nonetheless, is about him. He is hot-tempered,
and known for it among Charlemagne's vassals. "Your temperment is most hostile and fierce," says Oliver (l.
256), and this coming from Roland's best friend. Roland is unwilling to back away from a fight, even if it means
the loss of lives, and this fact exposes him to Ganelon's criticism: "He who advises that we should reject this
pact / Does not care, lord, whether we live or die" (ll. 226-7). Roland's own advice to the king firmly rejects
any consideration of peace. "Wage war, as you set out to do," Roland advises Charlemagne (l. 210), and we can
be sure that this instance represents the council he has given Charlemagne throughout the years. But Roland's
courage and fiery temper also make him invaluable to the king. He has conquered countless lands in
Charlemagne's name, and his enemies fear him.
Remember that The Song of Roland was written at the dawn of the Crusades. The poem is designed to get
Christians riled: the intent is not to praise men like Oliver, but to glorify men like Roland. Roland, because of
all of his virtues and faults, is exactly the kind of man needed for the Crusades: a man willing to die, and
sacrifice the lives of others as well, for land and glory. A man who rejects any chance of peace. A man without
moderation or mercy, but fearless and completely loyal to his king and Church.
Ganelon's motives for wanting to betray Roland are never stated explicitly, but because this first scene in
Charlemagne's court reads almost like drama, no explicit explanation is needed. We can only assume, from his
quickness to take offense and his damning criticism of Roland, that Ganelon has had longstanding jealousy and
hatred for Roland. Almost nothing about their past together is discussed: we know only that Ganelon is his
stepfather, but when and how their enmity started remains unexplained.

However, looking at the scene where the Franks choose Ganelon as emissary, the reader can easily see how
jealousy of Roland could harden into hatred. Charlemagne strictly forbids many of his volunteers from going as
emissary. Speaking to Roland and Oliver, he refuses to even consider risking the lives of these dear friends: "Be
silent, both of you; / Neither you nor he will set foot there. By this white beard of mine which you see, / The
twelve peers are not to be nominated" (ll. 259-62). Charles is bearing in mind the last time he sent emissaries
to Marsile. The Saracen king had Charles' ambassadors beheaded.
And yet, a moment later, Charlemagne shows that he has no problem sending Ganelon. Ganelon, in a moment
of self-dramatization, reveals that he does not believe he will return alive. The king does not even seem to
take him seriously, and almost seems to be mocking him: "You are very soft-hearted / You must go, since it is
my command" (ll. 317-8). He refuses to take Ganelon's fear of death seriously, and yet a moment earlier he
refused to let the twelve peers risk such a dangerous mission. The implication is clear to Ganelon: he is
expendable in a way that the twelve peers aren't. The peers have the king's respect and love. When Ganelon
lashes out against Roland, claiming that Roland has nominated him for the mission in hopes of being rid of him,
Charlemagne only replies that Ganelon is being disagreeable. The frustration Ganelon must feel is easy to
imagine: no matter what he does, no matter how he rages, the king cannot be bothered to worry about his
anger. Charlemagne loves the twelve peers, while Ganelon is expendable. Although the poet does not delve
into rich psychological characterization, Ganelon's nomination gives us a succinct portrait of rage and jealousy.
His betrayal or Roland, despite the lack of information on the two characters' history together, is believable.
Second Section (Laisses 39-87, lines 512-1109):
Summary
Marsile apologizes for his earlier anger and promises great wealth to Ganelon. Marsile asks Ganelon three times
if the two-hundred-year-old Charles will ever tire of war; Ganelon replies that Charles will continue to wage
war as long as Roland is alive. Ganelon suggests an ambush: as Charles pulls out of Spain, going through the
pass of Cize, he will live a rearguard of twenty-thousand men, led by Roland and Oliver. Marsile should attack
the rearguard with a force of a hundred thousand pagans.
Ganelon returns to Charles, bearing gifts from Marsile. The traitor claims that the Marsile's uncle the caliph,
along with four hundred thousand Moslems, died in a God-sent sea storm. The Franks celebrate, suspecting
nothing.
As the Franks are withdrawing, heading toward the pass of Cize, Charles has strange dreams. He dreams that at
the pass of Cize Ganelon seized and broke the king's ash lash. He also dreams that he is at Aix. A boar bites his
right arm, and a leopard come from the direction of the Ardennes and attacks him; then, a hunting dog appears
and fights the other two animals.
The next day, when Charles asks who should head the rearguard, Ganelon nominates Roland. Roland excepts,
although his comment indicate that he is angry at his uncle. He willingly take the king's lance, making a show
of not dropping it, as Ganelon dropped the king's glove. He refuses the king's offers of retaining a large force.
Oliver will join Roland, as will the archbishop. Other volunteers to stay include the rest of the twelve peers:
Anseis, Berenger, Engeler, Gerin, Gerer, Gerard of Roussillon, Oliver, Oton, Samson, Yvon, and Yvoire.
Gautier patrols the heights. Charles treks back toward France, and when at last the men see their native land,
they weep. Charles is anxious about his dreams; he fears that they portend treachery and Roland's death.
Marsile assembles his men. Marsile's nephew wants to strike at Roland first. He asks Marsile to select twelve
barons to lead the Moslem force. The barons are described in some detail; Falsaron, Corsalis, Malprimis, the
emir of Balaguer, an alcamor from Moriane, Rugis, Escremiz, Estorgans, Estramariz, Margariz, and Chernubles.

The Christians hear the Moslem force approaching, and Roland welcomes the chance for battle. He has
absolute confidence that they will win: "The pagans are wrong and the Christians are right" (l. 1015). On the
hill, Oliver sees the Moslem army and reports that their force is vast. He asks Roland to blow his oliphant horn
to summon Charlemagne's forces, but Roland refuses. Oliver pleads for Roland to blow the horn, but Roland will
do no such thing. They will fight this battle alone.
Analysis:
Note that Charlemagne has become a figure of Biblical proportions. Marsile expresses awe of him, for
Charlemagne continues to fight even though he is more than two hundred years old (l. 539). Like a Biblical
patriarch, Charlemagne lives an impossibly long life.
Ganelon's betrayal of Roland is motivated both by jealousy and greed. Jealousy is undoubtedly the primary
motivation, but the monetary reward he receives links him to the first traitor of Christianity, Judas, who
received thirty pieces of silver for betraying Christ. Additionally, the description of the reward, which takes
the form of varied exotic goods, gives the poet a chance to describe wonders from the Orient. Remember that
part of the motivation for the Crusades was a lust for foreign goods and a desire to see foreign lands.
Charlemagne's dreams, sent by angels, are accurate predictions of the future. In the first dream, the lance of
Charlemagne symbolizes Roland. In the second dream, the leopard and the boar (one beast exotic and African,
the other native) symbolize Marsile and Ganelon. The hunting dog is Roland, and the king's injury symbolizes
what he will lose: he is bitten on his right arm. Earlier in the poem, Ganelon said that if Charlemagne lost
Roland, he would lose his right arm (ll. 596-7).
The virtue of duty is emphasized by the troops reaction on their return to France. The troops weep openly
when they see their homes. They are not warmongers, hungry for combat; at the end of the poem, when told
that he will have to wage another campaign, Charles reacts with sorrow and weariness. The fight against
paganism is a question of Christian duty. Although the battle scenes are described with unmistakable pleasure
(they'd be rather tedious to read otherwise), elsewhere in the poem we see a longing for home and peace.
The symmetry between the Franks and the Moslems continues to be striking. The Moslems have twelve
companions to match the twelve peers; in fact, we learn more about the Moslem equivalents of the twelve
peers than we do about the twelve peers themselves. Charlemagne's faith and love are enough to tell us all we
need to know about the twelve peers, but the poet takes a moment to describe the terrible enemy in a more
direct way. However, these descriptions are for color and excitement rather than for any nuanced
understanding of the enemy. The descriptions of the enemy remain fairly one-dimensional. Describing the
Almacor from Oriane, the poet says "No one in the land of Spain is more treacherous" (l. 910). Estorgans and
Estramariz are described as "felons, wretched traitors" (l. 941). The villains are as dastardly as they come. But
these must also be worthy foes for the Christians. What virtues they have, therefore, are feudal virtues like
loyalty to their lord and courage on the battlefield. If praising a Moslem, the poet speaks in terms of qualified
admiration: "Had he been a Christian, he would have been a worthy baron" (l. 899).
Roland and Oliver exemplify different virtues. Oliver urges caution; wisdom and restraint are part of what
makes him a good night. We have seen this side of Oliver already: during the council with Charlemagne, he
argues against sending Roland as emissary because of Roland's hotheadedness. Roland refuses to be cautious.
He states that because God is on their side, they will crush the Moslems (in spite of the fact that the Moslems
outnumber them five to one). Whether he honestly believes that or not is beside the point. The poet praises
both Roland and Oliver: "Roland is brave and Oliver is wise; / Both are marvelous vassals" (ll. 1093-4).
And yet the poem makes Roland a hero, and locks Oliver firmly into place as his sidekick. Arguably, Roland's
love of honor and his unshakable faith in his troops lead to his death and the death of all of his troops. Had he
heeded Oliver, the Christians might have brought about a Moslem defeat without such a massive loss of
Christian life. But the epic belongs to Roland and not to Oliver, and it is Roland who is escorted up to heaven

by angels after his death. Later, we will examine in greater detail why the poem celebrates Roland and his
particular kind of virtue.
The scene of Oliver's sighting of the enemy and pleading with Roland is an example of a technique unique to
The Song of Roland, the parallel laisses. The term is not precise; its key characteristic is a slowing of the pace
of narrative and a formula of repetition. Laisses 80 and 81 both start with Oliver at the top of a hill. In both
laisses, he reports seeing a vast pagan host. Laisses 83-5 focus on Oliver's request that Roland blow his horn.
The request is repeated and refused three times, in very similar terms. But the reader does not have the sense
of three requests: rather, one feels that the poet is slowing down his pace and focusing on a single moment,
that of Oliver's conversation with Roland, and offering three varying versions of it. The effect is something like
a stutter, or a film sequence in slow motion, or, better yet, a film sequence cut so that the same event is seen
multiple times from different angles. The consecutive laisses overlap, seeming to repeat partially, but not
completely, the same description. The poet will use this technique to great effect during Roland's death scene.
At other times, the technique seems merely to be repetition, rather than overlapping versions of the same
moment. For example, Charlemagne's mourning for Roland in laisses 209-11 works well as a continuous
ritualized outpouring of grief.
Third Section (Laisses 88-138, lines 1110-1841):
Summary:
Roland, ready for battle, encourages his men to fight bravely. He readies his sword, Durendal. Archbishop Turin
tells the men to ask forgiveness for their sins, for which he will absolve them, and promises that all who die
will be rewarded with martyrdom and a place in heaven. Roland reminds them of the spoils they will win.
Oliver, protesting one last time, tells the men to fight bravely. The two armies clash.
Marsile's nephew, Aelroth, insults the Franks, and an angry Roland immediately dispatches him for it. Falsaron,
Marsile's brother, is killed by Oliver. Archbishop Turin kills King Corsablix. Gerin dispatches Malprimis of Brigal.
Gerer kills the emir. Duke Samson defeats the almacor. Anseis kills Turgis of Turteluse. Engeler kills Escremiz.
Oton slays Estorgans. Berenger strikes down Estramariz. Ten of the twelve Saracen peers are dead: only
Chernubles and Count Margariz remain.
Margariz makes for Oliver. He smashes through Oliver's shield, penetrates his armor, and destroys his lance.
Only God's intervention protects Oliver from being seriously wounded. Meanwhile, Roland is fighting so fiercely
that he wears his own lance to splinters. He fights with his sword, Durendal, and kills Chernubles. The twelve
peers fight bravely. Oliver, too, wears his lance down to a stub, and then at Roland's suggestion unsheathes his
sword, Halteclere.
The battle goes on, with the Franks slaughtering the pagans even though the Christian force is vastly
outnumbered. But the Franks, too, suffer heavy casualties: "How many lives of fine young Franks are lost!" (l.
1401). Midbattle, the poet breaks to remind us that all of this carnage was caused by Ganelon's treachery, but
assures us that Ganelon will get his in the end: "In the trial at Aix he was condemned to hang / And thirty of his
relatives with him" (ll. 1409-10). In France, as the battle in Spain continues, storms and earthquakes ravage the
land. The disasters are signs of God's sadness for Roland.
An even larger pagan force, led by Marsile, appears on the horizon. The battle now begins to turn against the
Christians. The archbishop is the first to dive into battle against the new force, and he kills the mighty pagan
Abisme. The courage of the Franks begins to falter, and Turpin tries to encourage them. He tells them that
death is certain for all of the Christians on the field, but paradise awaits them. They must fight bravely.
The pagan Climborin kills Engeler, one of the twelve peers. Oliver avenges him. The pagan Valdebrun kills
Samson, another one of the twelve peers. Roland avenges him. Malquiant, an African, slays Anseis. Anseis is
avenged by Archbishop Turpin. A mighty pagan named Grandonie kills a number of Franks, including three of

the twelve peers: Gerin, Gerer, and Berenger. The Franks are falling fast. Roland charges after Grandonie and
defeats him. He and Oliver work themselves into such a great frenzy that the Moslem forces begin to retreat.
With the Archbishop, Roland and Oliver head up a strong offensive: "Those whom they kill cannot easily be
counted. / It is written in the charters and records, / That, as the annals state, there were four thousand" (ll.
1683-5). But the Franks suffer heavy losses, until only a handful are left, and Roland tells Oliver that he wants
to blow the oliphant to call for Charlemagne's help. Oliver condemns the action as coming too late to do any
good. The two friends argue, but the Archbishop begs them to set aside their anger. Although blowing the horn
will not save the rearguard, the Archbishop says, at least Charlemagne will hear the horn and come to avenge
their deaths. The Franks can also come back and bury their dead.
Roland blows the horn. The effort is so intense his temples burst: three times, Charlemagne hears the horn.
Each time, Ganelon denies that the sound indicates a battle. Finally, Duke Naimes says that Roland, to
continue blowing so long, would need to be in great danger. Duke Naimes also says that Ganelon's advice
reveals that he has betrayed Roland. Charlemagne and the Franks prepare for battle. Charlemagne has Ganelon
chained and put in the custody of the cooks. The main Frankish force sets off, but they are too late.
Analysis:
Religion and faith animate every aspect of The Song of Roland. Remember the poem's place as a piece of
propaganda for the Crusades: significantly, the battle opens with Archbishop Turin promising salvation to the
Franks. He absolves them, en masse, of their sins, and then promises that any who die will be given the
glorious rewards due to martyrs. His promise is not only for the Franks, but for the poem's audience. All who
listen are meant to be stirred to set off to fight for their Church. Roland adds to this reward, promising that
victory will mean glorious spoils. Oliver speaks, reminding them of the value of duty and courage. All of this
encouragement has two audiences: the Franks in the poem, and the French nobles listening to the poem. The
poem is explicitly a piece of propaganda.
The battle scenes are described with striking detail. Although the poet does not make use of metaphor or
simile, and very rarely gives us psychology, he does give us a fair amount of rich visual detail. Armor is
described to its fine points; he also dwells on the noble faces and physical presence of the knights on both
sides. We hear vivid descriptions of knights raising flags, giving their battle cries ("Monjoie!" for the Franks) and
insulting each other before battle. War becomes pageantry.
The descriptions of the battles follow a pattern. The battle is described not in terms of troop movements or
grand strategy; for all of its vividness, the battle is impossible to recreate on a map. Instead, the poet
describes the battle in terms of separate combats, knight-to-knight, with each combat lasting exactly one
laisse. In the beginning of the battle, the Franks fare well. The twelve peers of Charlemagne crush the twelve
Saracent peers. In a series of single combats, ten of the twelve Saracen peers are swiftly killed by their
Frankish counterparts. This method of description turns the battle into more of a tournament than a war.
Rather than the brutal chaos of war, the poet gives us a kind of combat where chivalry matters. Fights are oneon-one, man-to-man. There is time for Saracens to insult Frankish honor, and time for the Franks to answer the
insults by killing the Saracens.
This fairly ritualized account of battle is juxtaposed to a very gory descriptive style. Some of the killing blows
are violent to fantastic extremes. Roland, after hearing Aelroth's insults to Franksih honor, delivers a
deathblow that is almost comically brutal: "He breaks his shield and hauberk open; / He splits his breast and
shatters all his bones, / Severing from his back his entire spine" (ll. 1199-1201). The ritualized account of
battle comes alongside the incredibly gory descriptions of death. But the gore becomes part of the ceremonial
character of the poem: one could hardly call this descriptive style "realistic." It is first and foremost vivid, and
helps to liven up the battle scene, which otherwise would be monotonous.
The poet takes pains to show the superiority of the Frankish knights. We go down the list of battles between
the twelve peers on both sides, and the Frankish twelve peers smash through the Saracens quickly. The poet is
so busy showing the superiority of the Franks that we're someone shocked to learn that only sixty Franks are

left by laisse 127. The reversal seems to happen while we are not watching. Marsile arrives with a greater force
in laisse 111, but even so it takes time for the Franks to begin to lose the battle. Starting in laisse 117, we
witness the deaths of three of the twelve peers. Their deaths are avenged by Roland, Oliver, and the
Archbishop.
But the poet makes sure to remind us repeatedly that Roland and his companions will lose. In laisse 110, he
breaks from the action to tell us that no help will come for Roland and the others, and also to assure us that
Ganelon will be punished for his treachery. He also breaks to speak of the tremors and storms in France, which
show "great sorrow for the death of Roland" (l. 1437).
The Archbishop is one of the poem's more vivid characters. He is a member of the clergy, but he is also a
warrior, absolving the troops of all of their sins one moment and then rushing into the thick of battle in the
next. At key points, he revives the spirits of the troops. He defeats the fearsome pagan Abisme, inspiring the
troops (laisses 114-5). He reminds the troops after this duel that they will die, but will wake in Paradise (ll.
1520-3). He is made to look like the perfect embodiment of a holy man in the age of the crusades: he is a
metaphor the new, warlike church that will lead the battle against Islam. His militant character reflects the
new direction the Church had taken since Pope Urban II's speech at the Council of Clermont in 1095. Pope
Urban II promised that war against the Moslems was holy and that Christians who fought it would be granted
full penance. The Archbishop is both warrior and sage. He intercedes when Roland Oliver begin to fight,
reminding the two knights that their real enemy is the pagan horde.
Now, Roland belatedly blows the horn. Many modern readers cannot resolve the contradiction of the poem:
Roland refuses to blow the horn earlier over a question of honor, dooming his army. Yet he ends up blowing the
horn anyway. His delay costs the lives of twenty thousand Christian. Oliver is furious about it, and condemns
Roland's vacillations.
But Roland's heroism has nothing to do with sound decision-making. He, and not Oliver, is mourned by God
himself. And the Archbishop's advice about blowing the horn sidesteps the issues of honor and loss of life:
blowing the horn late does not lead to a loss of honor, because Charlemagne needs to know what has
happened. Part of the feudal system of values is that a good liege lord avenges loyal vassals.
Roland's virtue is courage, and his brand of courage is one that modern readers will most probably associate
with fanaticism. Militarily, he makes a bad decision. He sacrifices twenty-thousand lives because of faith and a
love for honor. But we must also remember The Song of Roland's place as a piece of propaganda. Roland is
exactly the kind of man that the Church needed at the time of the poem's composition. The poem was written
sometime in the eleventh or twelfth centuries, with most scholars estimating the date of composition as
somewhere between 1098-1100. This time is the era of the First Crusade. The poem is meant to inspire its
audience to acts of courage. The poem celebrates courage, zeal, and faith to one's lord above the kind of
virtue possessed by Oliver. According to the poem, bravery is more important than wisdom, as shown by the
fact that God himself mourns for Roland.
The position of the narrator is worth examining. The narrator does not claim to be an eyewitness to the events
of the song, but he does invoke annals to lend his story authority. Giving the death count, the speaker says
"Those whom they killed can be easily counted. / It is written in the charters and records, / That, as the annals
state, there were four thousand" (ll. 1683-5). History is alluded to for effect, for grandeur. The poem has very
little to do with actual historical events, but the vague allusions to "annals" and "records" make the audience
feel as if they are hearing the story of one of history's great moments.
Fourth Section (Laisses 139-176; lines 1841-2396):
Summary:

Roland mourns the deaths of his men, and spurs himself on to kill as many Moslems as he can. Marsile fights
fiercely as well, killing several of the twelve peers. Roland's fierce response terrifies the pagans, and a hundred
thousand of them, including Marsile, flee. But his uncle Marganice remains, along with his fearsome entourage
of troops from Africa. His assembly of warriors includes the contingent from "accursed" Ethiopia, where the
men are black and have "large noses and broad ears" (l. 1918). The sight of them unsettles even Roland, who
feels certain that the Franks will die. The Ethiopians alone number fifty thousand, and the Franks have only
sixty men left.
Marganice battles Oliver, and manages to mortally wound him, but the dying Oliver strikes Marganice a lethal
blow. He calls for Roland's help. Oliver fights on, asking Roland to come and fight by his side one last time. On
seeing Oliver wounded, Roland faints, but he is so securely strapped to his horse that he cannot fall off.
Oliver's sight is so blurred that he cannot recognize Roland, and strikes him a might blow; luckily, Roland is not
hurt. When he hears Roland's voice, he apologizes to him. Roland forgives him, and they bow to each other.
Oliver dies, and Roland bellows and wails in grief. He faints again.
Now all the Franks are dead, save three: Roland, Gautier, and the Archbishop. The three make a last stand.
Gautier is killed by the first volley of lances and spears; the Archbishop fights on bravely, despite being horribly
wounded. Roland and the Archbishop fight on. Roland's temples are burst from his last attempt to blow the
oliphant, but he blows the horn again, feebly. Far away, Charles hears it, and orders his men to blow their
horns in reply. The sound frightens the pagans, who know now that Charlemagne is coming. The pagans let
loose a volley of missile weapons, killing Roland's horse right from under him. They flee, and Roland has no way
to pursue. He tries to make the Archbishop comfortable, and then goes to search for the bodies of their dear
friends. He brings the bodies of the twelve peers back to the Archbishop, who absolves them. Roland weeps
and swoons again. The Archbishop goes to get water for him from a stream. On the way there, he collapses,
confesses his sins, and dies. Roland wakes and mourns for him.
Roland climbs a hill, faces Spain, grasps his sword and his oliphant, and collapses. A pagan who was playing
dead attacks him, but Roland comes to and kills him. Roland begins to strike mighty blows against a stone
nearby, recounting the many victories he won for Charles. He hopes to break the sword because he fears it will
fall into pagan hands; the sword is full of holy relics. He wears down the stone, but the sword does not break.
Roland senses death is near. He confesses his sins. He holds his right glove up to God, and Angels come down to
him from heaven. He lays down beneath the pine tree, turns to face Spain, and reflects on his life and
struggles. He dies. A cherubin angel, along with Saints Michael and Gabriel, come down to bring his soul to
heaven.
Analysis:
The exotic detail of "accursed" Ethiopians is supposed to contribute to an aura of fear. Evil here is foreign,
strange, and dark-skinned; a recurring themes of the poem is this equation of evil with foreignness. Evil and
foreign are the same thing; this conception of evil is consistent with the aims of the poem, which include
inciting Christians to go fight a war against the exotic and sinister forces of Islam.
Things become quite grim for the Christians in this section. We are reaching the deaths of the major characters
now (Oliver, the Archbishop, and Rolan), and so more time is spent on each death scene. Christianity
permeates the poem even more as the heroes face the next life. Vitally important is the need for each of these
characters to confess their sins, even as they die, so that they can be absolved of their wrongdoing before
going on to the next world.
Note that Roland, though brave, is no heartless killing machine, nor is he a Stoic. He feels deeply for the loss of
life, weeping and even fainting when his dear ones are killed. Oliver's death is one of the most beautiful
passages of the whole poem. The scene preceding is about forgiveness. Oliver has accidentally struck Roland,
and the wound is a metaphor for the hurt friends do to each other though they have the best intentions.
Remember that Roland and Oliver have fought about Roland's command decisions and temperament. But in the

end, Oliver leaves this world speaking words of love. The forgiveness between friends parallels the powerful
theme of forgiveness in Christianity; just as God forgives the penitent, a good Christian pardons others.
Roland's death scene is hailed by many as the poem's greatest moment. It is the climax of the poem, and it
occurs when the poem is only half-over. Some scholars have argued that the second half of the poem, detailing
Charlemagne's revenge, was composed and added by a different poet.
Honor remains important to the knight right to the end: he tries to destroy his sword rather than let it fall into
enemy hands. He also takes time to recount his victories. The list serves both to show the importance of honor
to Roland, while establishing for the audience that he was Charlemagne's greatest warrior. Finally, Roland dies
facing the enemy, looking out at the land he died to defend in Charlemagne's name.
The pace slows significantly for this climactic scene. The poet often alternates short, summary-style segments
with play-by-play detailed description of a scene. Roland's death, as the great moment of the poem, is
narrated slowly, with care. We seem to watch the death repeatedly, and in slow motion.
The poet makes use of repetition to heighten the drama of the moment; there is something of a stutter-effect
in the scene, as we read consecutive laisses that at times seem to be delivering different versions of the same
moment. The effect is akin to slow motion in film, or doing a rapidly cut sequence with the same action filmed
from three different angles. For example, Roland strikes Durendal against stone in laisses 171-3, and the poet's
play with tense has no known precedent in earlier literature. The speaker ceases to describe events as
following one another successively: instead, we see the same event three times, described with slight
difference. In laisse 171, we hear that "The steel grates, but does not break or become notched" (l. 2302). A
similar statement is made in both following laisses, but the poet is not merely saying that Roland is
continuously striking the stone. Following each of the three statements on the sword's vulnerability, Roland
sees that it cannot break and mourns, with slightly different words. There is no attention to "naturalistic"
narrative here. We are seeing a moment, described three different ways. The same can be said for Roland's
death. Three times, the poet tells us that Roland hands his right glove to God (lines 2365, 2373, and 2389). The
poet tells us twice, in two consecutive laisses that angels come down to Roland (line 2374 and 2393-6). This
method is sometimes jarring for modern readers, but it is one of the great distinguishing characteristics of the
poem. The gesture of lifting the right glove to God is a powerful metaphor for Roland's place. The gesture was
traditionally made by vassals to their lords: in offering his right glove to the Lord, Roland is showing that his
first and most important liege lord is God. The gesture metaphorically joins Christianity with feudalism, in a
way that suits perfectly its function as a piece of Church propaganda. The poet, by way of art, makes the
warrior values of the knights parallel the values of Christianity. To serve a Christian king on the field of battle
is to serve God.
Important is the fact that Roland dies unvanquished. No enemy has directly defeated him; he has died from the
accumulation of wounds, including the wound he inflicted on himself blowing the oliphant. Also significant is
Roland's focus on his faith. He weeps for the life he will lose, the life that will end, but forces himself to pay
attention to the next world: "He cannot help weeping and heaving great sighs; / But he does not wish to be
unmindful of himself" (ll. 2381-2). He needs to focus and confess his sins. Roland exemplifies a certain set of
values: Christian, loyal to the death, bold. He is the hero whom angels (a cherubin no less, one of the highest
angels in the celestial hierarchy) and saints escort directly to heaven. Despite his errors, his courage and
perfect loyalty make him a perfect soldier and Christian.
Fifth Section (Laisses 177-186; lines 2397-2569):
Summary:
Charlemagne and his army arrive to find the fields of the dead at Rencesvals. There is great mourning for the
dead, and Charles decides to pursue the enemy. He leaves a contingent of men in charge of guarding the
bodies, and then sets off in hot pursuit of the pagans. He prays to God for aid, and God performs a great
miracle: he stops the sun's movement, prolonging daylight so that the French can catch up to the Saracens.

They catch the Saracens in the Val Tenebro, and the slaughter begins. Many of the pagans drown in the River
Ebro as they try to escape. The Christians enjoy great wealth. The Franks make camp in the Val Tenebro,
exhausted. Charles remains in full armor. The poet takes a moment to describe Charlemagne's sword, Jouise:
embedded in its pommel a piece of the lance that pierced Christ.
Charlemagne has strange dreams that night, sent by Angels. He sees a great battle between his army and an
array of terrifying beasts; the dream does not make clear who will win. In his second dream, he sees a chained
bear. Thirty bears descend from the hills, and ask to have the bear back again. From Charlemagne's palace a
hunting dog comes, attacking the largest of the bears. Again, Charlemagne cannot see who wins.
Analysis:
The mourning for the dead is heartfelt, intense. Many of the men swoon, and Charles feels incredible sorrow
for the deaths of his men. Military prowess in this poem has nothing to do with Stoicism, or repression of
tender feelings. The weeping for the dead is seen as natural, human. Deep feeling speaks well for a soldier;
there is no need to hide tender emotions. Charlemagne, the warrior-king par excellence, grieves deeply for his
men: "He tugs at his beard like a men beset with grief" (l. 2414).
But grief must be channeled into war. We come here to a theme of the poem and one of the most important
parts of the feudal system of values: revenge. Part of a liege lord's duty is to avenge his vassals after their
death, and there is no time to lose. Without even enough time to bury the dead, Charlemagne sets off in hot
pursuit of the fleeing pagan horde. The one-sidedness of the battle, plus God's miraculous intervention with the
sun, re-establishes soundly that the Lord will side with the Christians. For reasons we cannot understand, He
has allowed a pagan victory; but here, wrong is set right and pagans are killed in droves.
The splinter from the lance that killed Christ reflects the time of the poem's composition. During the Crusades,
knights returned from the Holy Land bearing countless relics of dubious origin. Many carried supposed pieces of
the one true cross, or the lance that pierced Christ's side; any piece of wood found in or around Jerusalem was
likely to have fantastic claims made about its origin. The relics supposedly had great powers as well, and
Charlemagne's possession of such a valuable item adds to his grandeur as a ruler.
Once again, Charles has God-sent dreams. His dream of his army being attacked by beasts anticipates the fight
against the Emir. The dream about the bears predicts Ganelon's trial. The bear is Ganelon, the thirty bears are
his kinsmen, the large bear who fights is Pinabel, and the loyal hunting dog is Thierry. The fact that the
hunting dog comes from the direction of the palace takes ambiguity from the dream: the hunting dog, Thierry,
is loyal, while the others are enemies of goodness. But God does not show the ending of these dreams. One
interpretation of the dreams' ambiguity is that it is up to Charlemagne to secure victories. Another
interpretation is that the dreams' ambiguity creates more sympathy for Charlemagne. God may know the
future, but Charles does not see the future with any more definitiveness than the rest of us. He therefore goes
into battle with as much fear as a normal man. Often the poem juxtaposes Charles' godlike strength with
vulnerability. He has the age of a biblical patriarch, which makes him seem both awesome and frail: in his
mourning he seems much like a weary grandfather.
Sixth Section (Laisses 187-214; Lines 2570-2973):
Summary:
Marsile returns to Saragossa, badly wounded. He has lost his right hand. The Moslems weep because of their
losses; the desecrate the statues of Apollo, Tervagant, and Muhammad. They are sure they will lose the war.
But years ago, Marsile wrote to the emir of Babylon, Baligant, begging for aid. Now Baligant has finally arrived,
with a vast pagan host. The force lands, and then Baligant sends his knights Clarifan and Clarien to tell Marsile
that the emir will make war against Charlemagne. Bramimonde, Marsile's wife, receives them coldly. When

they great her in the name of their gods, she says that their gods have abandoned them. When the messengers
say the emir will hunt Charles down, she informs them that Charles is no more than seven leagues away, and
that he fears no one. Because Marsile is wounded, Baligant comes to meet him. Marsile surrenders all his lands
to him.
Meanwhile, the Franks are tending to their dead. Charles seeks out the body of Roland, remembering that
Roland once promised that if killed on foreign soil, he would advance beyond all the men and die facing the
enemy. Charlemagne finds Roland, and mourns bitterly for his nephew. He fears he will not be able to carry on
without the help of his best knight. Wise Duke Naimes is by the king's side, offering comfort and advice. The
bodies are buried. But Roland, the Archbishop, and Oliver receive special treatment. Their sacred hearts are
removed and wrapped in silk, and the bodies are prepared specially, wrapped in silk, and put in carts so that
they can be brought home.
Analysis:
Marsile's wound continues the development of symmetry between Frank and Saracen. The Franks have their
revenge against the Saracens of Spain: just as Charlemagne has metaphorically lost his right hand in Roland's
death, Marsile has literally lost his right hand. But the symmetry diverges here. While Charlemagne, in part
through God's support, is able to turn his grief into action, Marsile is a broken man. He hands over his control of
Saragossa to Baligant, and leaves the fighting to the emir. His people have apparently lost faith in their gods,
as well. Their despair is total.
Bramimonde's fiery moments here foreshadow her later conversion to Christianity. When she speaks, it
becomes clear that she no longer follows the Saracens' gods: "These gods of ours have abandoned the fight; /
At Rencesvals their powers deserted them" (ll. 2715-6). She has lost faith in the pagan trinity, and she speaks
so highly of Charles that Marsile orders her to be silent (l. 2741). Interestingly enough, she cites Rencesvals,
sight of Roland's death, as the place where the pagans' gods served them no longer. Though the rearguard was
annihilated (and the event is based on what was historically a serious setback for Charlemagne), the poet
manages to turn Rencesvals into a victory. Because the rearguard killed so many heathens, and because that
battle has led to Charlemagne taking great action against Marsile, Bramimonde sees correctly that the
Christians have won the day. The setback of Rencesvals becomes part of God's divine plan, instrument of
Charlemagne's eventual victory and of Roland's glorious ascent into heaven.
Charlemagne continues to be an immensely likable and powerful figure. He weeps and faints for his lost love
ones, and the poet uses the laisses similaires here. Laisses 209-211 all begin with the address, "Beloved
Roland," as the king calls out to his dead nephew. The king mourns his nephew Roland three times in similar,
but not identical, ways.
Baligant's arrival seems somewhat sudden, but it is foreshadowed in Charlemagne's dream of his army being
attacked by beasts. In this dream, Charlemagne himself squared off against the most terrible of the beasts.
The emir is as powerful a figure in the Moslem world as Charles is in Christendom. Like Charlemagne, he
commands countless contingents from distant lands. Like Charles, he is as ancient as a Biblical patriarch: "He is
the old emir, a man of great age, / Who has outlived both Virgil and Homer" (ll. 2615-7). Baligant is brave and
determined, even honorable. His arrival, though sudden, makes sense given the symmetry that is elsewhere in
the poem. Charlemagne needs to avenge Roland; it is nothing less than a good liege lord's obligation. And to
keep the poem interesting, Charlemagne needs a worthy adversary. He gets no less than the leader of Islam.
Seventh Section (Laisses 215-72; lines 2974-3674):
Summary:
The pagans arrive. Charlemagne puts trust in his vassals, delegating responsibility and asking Rabel and
Guineman to take on the responsibilities of Roland and Oliver. Following is a lengthy description of the troops

assembled on both sides: on the Frankish side, valiant knights from all over Christendom are ready to fight.
Charlemagne prays to God for victory. On the pagan side, heathen knights from all kinds of exotic and strange
lands prepare for battle. Malprimis, son of Baligant, requests the honor of first strike, and Baligant grants it.
Malprimis will bring Torleu, King of Persia, and Dapamort, King of Lycia, to head up the front line. There is
more organization of divisions, and then the battle begins.
Rabel kills Torleu. Dapamort is slain by Guineman. Malprimis makes his way toward Charles, and both Charles
and Baligant call out encouraging words to their troops. Duke Naimes kills Malprimis. Canabeus, brother of the
emir, wounds Naimes horribly; only divine intervention saves Naimes's life. Charles is horrified to see his good
friend so hurt, and kills Canabeus. The emir himself slaughters Guineman.
The battle escalates. Gemalfin, a trusted counselor of the emir, informs him that his brother Canabeus and son
Malprimis are dead. Baligant grieves. He asks his trusted friend Jangleu if they will win the day, and Jangleu
tells Baligant that their gods will not help them: Charles and his Franks will kill them all. Baligant's resolve is
unshaken: "Come what may, he does not wish to hide" (l. 3522). He blows his bugle, rallying his troops, and
they mount a brutal assault against the Franks. Count Ogier scolds Charlemagne, reminding him that they must
avenge these deaths. They fight boldly, and Count Ogier strikes down Amborre, bringing the dragon pennon to
the ground. On seeing Muhammad's standard fall, Baligant "begins to realize / That he is wrong and
Charlemagne right" (ll. 3553-4).
The battle continues on through the day, and evening falls. As Charles calls out "Monjoie," the Frankish battle
cry, and Baligant calls out "Precieuse," the pagan battle cry, the two kings recognize each other's strong voices.
They clash, shattering each other's shields and knocking each other off of their horses. They get up and fight
with their swords. Each offers the other a chance to be his vassal in exchange for peace, but both offers are
refused. Baligant delivers Charlemagne a powerful blow, exposing the Frankish king's skull, but the angel
Gabriel speaks words of encouragement in the king's ear. Charlemagne smashes Baligant's skull. The pagans
retreat and the Franks give chase, slaughtering almost all of them.
The chase goes all the way back to Saragossa. Marsile and Bramimonde are horrified by the sight; Marsile dies
of grief, and the devils carry his soul to hell. The Franks take Saragossa. Bramimonde surrenders the keys to
the towers. The Christians smash the holy relics of the Jews and the Moslems, and Charlemagne proclaims that
those who do not convert to Christianity will be put to death. Bramimonde is the exception. She will be taken
to France as captive, so that she can become a Christian by her own decision.
Analysis:
The symmetry between Baligant and Charlemagne continues. Just as Charlemagne has a sword called
"Joyeuse," in the pommel of which is embedded a shard of the lance that killed Christ, Baligant has a might
sword called "Precieuse." In this case, the symmetry has resulted from Baligant's imitation of Charlemagne:
"From his arrogance he gave it a name; / From that of Charles about which he had heard / He gave it the name
of Preciuse" ( ll. 3143-5). Baligant's parroting of Charlemagne is an excellent way to keep the poem's
characteristic symmetry while making Baligant inferior to Charlemagne. He imitates the Christian king, but
from the poet's diction indicates that considering himself equal to Charles is pure presumption, coming "from
his arrogance."
The equation of Evil with the exotic continues. In Baligant's ranks there are truly fantastic creatures: "And the
next [line is] of the large-headed Milceni; / On their spines, along the middle of their backs, / They are as
bristly as pigs" (ll. 3221-3). We also have the men from the Occian desert: "Their skins are as hard as iron. / For
this reason they scorn helmets and hauberks" (ll. 3249-50).
The scene of preparation alternates between Franks and Moslems, with each side in turn preparing divisions
from the farthest reaches of the known world. We also have prayers for victory, and the two rulers giving
encouraging talks to their men.

As with the battle at Rencesvals, the poem's account of war is ritualized, rhythmic. Usually, one laisse is
devoted to the combat between two men: we have the men moving toward each other, the clash, and one
death. The climactic battle takes longer: the battle between Charlemagne and Baligant takes five laisses.
God is conceived of by both sides as an intervener, and events on earth, even without miraculous intervention,
are ascribed to him. Baligant begins to fear he might be wrong when he sees the standard of Muhammad fall.
Like Bramimonde earlier, who took the Saracen loss as proof that the gods had abandoned them, Baligant
ascribes earthly events to divine antecedents.
In the final battle between Charlemagne and Baligant, the two men are evenly matched. They both dehorse
the other, and break the other's shield. Baligant delivers Charlemagne a nearly-lethal blow, and only the
encouragement of the angel Gabriel helps Charlemagne to focus. The divine intervention insures a Christian
victory and affirms the correctness of the Franks' faith.
Readers might object at this point, wondering why God did nothing to help Roland. Worth point out is the fact
that the intervention is slight: it amounts to little more than the sound of the angel's voice, which calls
Charlemagne to his senses. But even so, it seems strange that a God who can stop the sun in the sky does
nothing to save the rearguard. Equally strange is the fact that God intervenes to save warriors at some points,
only to let them die later. The most notable example of this phenomenon is Oliver, who is saved in laisse 103,
but dies not long afterward. Here, the theme of divine plan and free will might best be considered in
comparison with the same themes in another great war epic, Homer's Iliad.
In the Iliad, the relationship between fate and free will is often paradoxical. At times, the gods seem to
control events. At others, even they seem subject to fate. And at other times, humans seem able to defy fate;
when Achilles takes on Troy in a particularly fierce assault, the gods interfere to prevent Troy from being taken
before the right time.
Some of the same paradoxes run through The Song of Roland. God interferes at choice times, but certain
choices are left up to men. No direct divine hand is seen in Roland's fateful decision not to blow the oliphant.
Charlemagne's dreams in laisses 185-6 have ambiguous endings, leading some interpreters to conclude that fate
is still in his hands (although an alternative interpretation is proposed in this ClassicNote). At any rate, in both
of the situations predicted by those dreams, God intervenes at decisive moments. But in events like the death
of Roland, the poet has problems that do not exist in Homer.
For the ancient Greeks, the gods were often hostile. Cruel fate was therefore not a surprising thing. But for the
Christian world that produced The Song of Roland, cruel fate, the deaths of heroes, and the suffering of the
good had to be reconciled to the idea that the universe was ruled by an all-powerful and benevolent God. The
solutions here in the poem may seem unsatisfactory to modern audiences.
Implicitly in this poem, the struggle of evil, to mean something, must be left in the hands of men. Although
Gabriel intercedes during Charlemagne's duel with Baligant, the intervention is light: Charles is still the one
who delivers the killing blow. God provides aid, but it is in fighting for good that man achieves new heights of
greatness. Consider Roland: he is arguably a foolish commander, but because of his bravery and the depths of
his passion and love (he weeps and swoons for his dying men, remember), he is God's favorite. And Roland's
death arguably fits well with a divine plan. It leads to Charlemagne's revenge, which cripples Moslem power
and drives the Moslems out of Spain for good (in the poem, at least). And arguably, Roland's death is an end in
itself. Without suffering and martyrdom, Roland would not rise to the heights that he does. His ascent into
heaven, following his terrible grief and death, has a kind of beauty that (from a certain point of view) would
not be possible if God simply waved his hand and made the world a perfect place.
The poem also must be considered within the context of its purpose. We are reading propaganda, with some
fairly brutal elements. Charlemagne actions after the conquest of Saragossa usually do not fit most modern
readers' ideas of a magnanimous victory. He destroys all sacred items of others faiths, and he executes anyone
who does not wish to become Christian. And then, without the slightest sense of irony, the poet says that

Bramimonde is going to be brought back as a captive in France so that she can convert later "through love" (l.
3274). Because of the time and purpose of the poem, all actions by Christians against Moslems are above
judgment. Brutality against the hellbound is perfectly justified. The simplistic ideology guiding The Song of
Roland is reflected in many of the poem's characteristics: clean, tidy symmetry; characters more or less devoid
of psychological depth; unabashed equation of foreignness with evil alongside an undisguised avarice for
foreign wealth. Some readers find these characteristics off-putting. Almost all would agree that for all of its
preoccupation with righteousness and Christian goodness, this epic poem is far less sophisticated, and far more
brutal and barbaric, than the earlier epics of Rome, Greece, and India.
Eighth Section (Laisses 273-298, lines 3675-4002):
Summary:
Charlemagne leaves a garrison and returns to his capitol, Aix, passing through many French cities along the
way. He deposits the oliphant at a sacred site, and leaves the bodies of Roland, Oliver, and the Archbishop at
the church of St. Romain. He arrives in Aix and summons his judges: the trial of Ganelon will begin soon. But
first, Charlemagne must give Aude, Roland's wife, the news of his death. She dies of grief on the spot.
Ganelon, brutalized by the servants, faces the charge of treason. He argues that though he arranged for
Roland's death, it was in reaction to Roland's nomination of him as envoy, which Ganelon thinks was an attempt
to kill him. Though he betrayed Roland, he did not betray the king. Thirty of Ganelon's kinsmen speak for him.
Among them is Pinabel, a mighty knight and gifted speaker. Pinabel is so persuasive that the judges, who are
collected from all over Charlemagne's realm, are inclined to seek peace and let Ganelon go free. Charlemagne
is grieved by their choice. Only Thierry, brother of Lord Geoffrey, is willing to fight for the case that Ganelon is
guilty of treason.
Thierry argues to Charlemagne that "whatever Roland may have done to Ganelon, / The act of serving you
should have protected him. / Ganelon is a traitor in that he betrayed him" (ll. 3827-9). Thierry is willing to
fight against any who say otherwise, and Pinabel accepts the challenge. Pinabel is by far the stronger and
larger man.
The men make confessions at church and return to fight. The combat is fierce. The audience is moved to
weeping with worry and sorrow for the men: they quickly dehorse each other and destroy each other's shields,
leaving the combat to the sword. Pinabel offers to be Thierry's vassal if they cease the combat, and let
Ganelon live. Thierry refuses, and offers to reconcile Pinabel to the king, if Pinabel will stop fighting and let
Ganelon die. Pinabel refuses, saying he will stand by his kinsman. They continue fighting, and, as Pinabel is
stronger, he wounds Thierry badly. But Thierry is protected from death by God, and he rallies to deliver the
killing blow. The Franks proclaim that God has worked a miracle. They decide to have Ganelon's thirty kinsmen
executed along with him. Ganelon's kinsmen are all hanged, and he himself is drawn and quartered (each limb
is tied to a horse; the horses run in opposing directions, ripping the victim apart).
Charlemagne announces that Bramimonde, having heard the gospels and the articles of Christian faith, wishes
to be baptized. She is christened Juliana. That night, Gabriel appears to Charlemagne in a dream, telling him
that he must aid King Vivien of Imphe, a Christian monarch besieged by pagans. His reaction is weary and
sorrowful: "God,' said the king, how wearisome my life is!' / He weeps and tugs at his white beard" (ll.
4000-1). Thus the poem ends.
Analysis:
The final line of the poem, "Here ends the story which Turoldus relates" (l. 4002) has been translated by Glyn
Burgess in a way that keeps the ambiguity of the original old French. "Relates" (or "declinet" in the original) can
mean write, transcribe, or weaken, leaving it unclear what Turoldus' relationship to the work was. Any theory
can only be speculation.

The kind of chivalry in The Song of Roland predates the later medieval ideas of courtly love, which have
influenced our current definition of the word "chivalry." Relationships between men and women are not really
explored in The Song of Roland. Roland has said almost nothing about his wife Aude; the concept of chivalry
here belongs to a more warlike age. If anything, his relationship with Oliver seems to be the most important
earthly relationship in his life. Companionship and equality seem to exist only between men. Aude dies of grief
when she hears of Roland's death, but that tells us more about how awe-inspiring a figure Roland was than the
depth of their relationship together. We can infer that they barely saw each other, as Roland has spent his
adult life fighting for his uncle. Aude is so upset by the loss of this magnificent husband, that she refuses to be
comforted by Charlemagne's immediate offer of another suitable knight. But not just any knight will do: Aude
was apparently only happy when Roland was her (absent) husband. She is so grief-stricken that she dies even
before Charlemagne has time to tell her that her brother Oliver is also dead.
At Ganelon's trial, different values are the real forces moving the decisions. On one side, there are the values
of compromise and political pragmatism. Ganelon is a skilled knight, from a family that we can infer is
powerful: the translator has said that the judges are "inclined to peace" (l. 3797), indicating that the execution
of Ganelon might cause problems. But on the other side is the multi-faceted issue of feudal loyalty.
Charlemagne has his duty to avenge his vassal, and what's more, Ganelon, if we consider the feudal code, has
indeed committed treason. Thierry argues articulately that a man cannot put his personal desires ahead of the
interests of the king: no matter what Ganelon's quarrel was with Roland, bringing about the death of a faithful
servant of the king amounts to an attack against the king himself.
God, of course, sides with these latter arguments. The Franks never seem to doubt that a just God will
intervene and provide an outcome which will make for a just verdict. And he intervenes once more, allowing
victory for the smaller, weaker Thierry. Implicit in this intervention is the depth of Ganelon's sin: he has not
only betrayed Charlemagne in pursuing selfish interests, he has also betrayed God and the war against Islam.
The cost for Ganelon and his family is brutal. The poet is almost gleeful as he describes the hanging of
Ganelon's kinsmen and Ganelon's own horrifying execution: "A man who betrays another has no right to boast of
it" (l. 3974).
Immediately afterward, we see God's hand in a more gentle one. Charlemagne announces that Bramimonde is
to become a Christian. Significantly, the poet chooses near the end of the poem to give us a reminder that
Christianity is not all forced conversions and dismemberment. Although modern readers might find
Bramimonde's "voluntary" conversion a wee bit problematic, it is nonetheless a gentler alternative to the Holy
War pursued in the rest of the poem.
It is not, however, the last word. Charlemagne's sleep that night is interrupted by another visit from the angel
Gabriel. He will soon have to depart for yet another campaign against the infidel. His reaction is less than
enthusiastic: he bewails the weariness of his life, weeps, and does his characteristic gesture of grief by tugging
at his beard. The theme of duty, in this case duty to God, is the finishing note of the poem. War is duty. This
final event confirms the idea in the poem that though God proposes, man disposes. The Franks must carry out
God's will; they are his agents on earth. A Christian must submit to the will of God; implicitly, the audience
should follow Charlemagne's example. Our final image of Charlemagne gives him a great deal of humanity and
vulnerability. This Charlemagne is no bloodthirsty and ambitious conqueror. We see him as a tired,
grandfatherly old man, obliged to set off for yet another bloody war.