Afar down the centuries in the good year 779 A.D., on a certain afternoon in the golden month of August, the greatest excitement was visible about the palace of the great Emperor Charlemagne at Paris. The royal armies, headed by that great warrior, had been victorious over the Saracens, in which battle “Guesdelin, the Sluggard,” their general, had been killed, and he, surrounded by his victorious legions, had returned to Paris in triumph to celebrate the fêtes of the Pentecost in company of his brilliant court. Although in that sanguinary battle he had met with the deplorable loss of several of his bravest knights, Noel, Count of Mans, Arnoue de Froulon, Albert de Bouillon, Solomon de Bretagne and a number of others; nevertheless the fêtes were not made less brilliant by the absence of these brave men. There had assembled at Paris for his great occasion, all the dukes and peers of France with their glittering retinues, and with them also came many princes and noblemen from other courts of Europe to assist in the festivities.
Among all that brilliant assemblage the most remarked were the brave Duke d’Aymon, Lord of Dordogne, and his four gigantic sons, Maugis, Allard, Guichard and Richard, all handsome and courageous young men.
Maugis, above the others, commanded the admiration of the entire court, his height, for he was seven feet tall, his valor and his great learning, for he was the pupil of a pundit whose life had been saved by his father during the Saracenic wars, and who had enriched his young charge from his vast store of occult knowledge, had made him renowned already, and it was generally conceded that he was destined for a great career.
The great audience chamber was packed with this brilliant assemblage on that August afternoon, and the babble of voices that filled the air fell into a profound hush upon the entry of the emperor.
Unbefitting the joy of the occasion, his brow was clouded by a deep frown, and gazing upon the sea of upturned faces before him for awhile, he arose from his throne and amid a great silence addressed them in these words:
“Brave knights, your valor has aided me in the highest degree to overcome the enemy, to conquer many cities, and obtain the submission of their people. But alas! to secure these grand results we have the sorrow to lose many of our noblest born. Bad enough as this is there is yet another matter that deeply incenses me and of this I now speak. Because Gerard de Roussillon, the Duke of Nantueil, and the Duke de Beuves d’Aigremont, all three of them our brothers and our subjects, refused me their aid, I now make complaint against them. Believing in their oaths of allegiance to me I surely counted upon their aid, and without their force or aid was compelled to engage superior numbers. It is to Solomon, who came to our succor with thirty thousand troops, and Lambert, and Galeron de Bordeille, and Berruger, to whom is due our victories.”
At this point the emperor rose to his full height, and with eyes flashing, continued: “I now declare to you that I shall once more appeal to the Duke Beuves d’Aigremont to fulfill his allegiance and if he still resists I shall lay siege to his dominions; if I become aroused I will not stop at taking life. I will flay him alive, send his wife and his son Renaud to the stake, and give their country up to pillage.”
At these savage words, uttered with the utmost anger, the Duke de Naimes, who was considered to be the wisest man of the court, arose and responded to the king:
“Sire, employ all possible means to avoid war, which is always cruel to the people whom you govern. Therefore send to the Duke d’Aigremont a man who is capable, sure and faithful and one in whom you can place your entire confidence, one who combines all the qualities of finesse and prudence required by the importance of this mission. Let him go to the duke and present to him his forgetfulness of his oath to you in such terms of consideration and without pride of manner as will have the most effect and then let the answer your majesty receives govern the determination as to what course your majesty will take.”
The king, strongly impressed by this sensible advice, adopted it, but was much embarrassed to make a selection of a man sufficiently discreet and courageous to fulfill such a perilous mission—one who had neither fear of the menaces of the famous duke, or the tried warriors of his family. He finally chose his own son Lothaire, who accepted with all the submission of a son and loyal subject, not without having demanded the benediction of his royal father, the blessing of heaven, and at the same time prayed God to care for his family.
Charlemagne had no sooner made this decision when he was assailed with the most dire presentiments, and his depression was only increased when the following morning he saw the departure of his son and his suite, composed of one hundred brave knights, well armed and equipped. It seemed to the unhappy king as if he was gazing for the last time on the face of his well-beloved son, and the while regretted keenly that etiquette would not allow a monarch to go himself as ambassador and demand an account of a disloyal subject of his rebellion.
News traveled very quickly even in those olden days, and it was not long before the Duke d’Aigremont was informed of the departure of the cavalcade at the head of which gayly rode the young prince, and thanks to the activity of his spies, the news came to D’Aigremont the moment of the reunion of his barons at his castle to celebrate the fêtes of Pentecost and to participate in the tournaments and games which were customary at that epoch. Enraged at the fact of an embassy approaching him on such a mission, and desiring to hasten his expression of insubordination, he at once announced to his barons his intention of giving offense to the king, and addressed them in these words:
“What now, sirs! the king not only makes the mistake of pretending to make me and my people serve him, but he sends his oldest son to me to make me menaces. What would you do under such circumstances were you in my place?”
He had among his knights some men who were very true and sincere in their counsel and who did not hesitate to speak plainly. One Sir Simon was called upon and expressed himself thus:
“Monseigneur, a man who resists his king, who, after his God, is his lord and master, makes an offense against heaven and justice. What do you propose to do? Sustain your disobedience by force of arms? We are all ready to shed our blood to the last drop, if may be, in the cause of justice, and our valor will never allow us to yield to numbers, but what will be our fate if we are defeated? How can you expect the clemency of the king if you refuse to receive his son? Have you no fear of the fate of a rebellious subject?”
The Duke d’Aigremont would not allow him to finish. Sparks of fire shot from his eyes, their pupils dilated and he menaced his loyal servitor for having ventured to speak so freely.
The duchess, on her part, fearful of the result, conjured the inflexible man to listen to the counsels of his true friends and to again seek to enter into the good graces of the king; when, however, the matter was submitted to the assemblage, there was a great division of opinion. This is why the advice of the good duchess was opposed by some and satisfied others.
The Duke d’Aigremont insisted on his intention of declining to serve the king and refused to listen while, said he, he had three brothers from whom he had a right to expect support, without counting his four nephews, the sons of the Duke d’Aymon, without doubt the most valiant warriors of the kingdom.
Meanwhile, during the occurrence of these scenes, the cavalcade of Lothaire came into view of the castle. He had never seen a fortress in a more formidable position, situated as it was on a high and almost inaccessible rock at the foot of which a deep river ran.
“Indeed, your highness,” said the commander of the escort to the young prince, “yon is a formidable place truly.” The castle had now come more fully into view and as its tall battlements flanked by two high towers arose on high, outlined against the blue sky, the prince only smiled and replied:
“Tut! Gaston, the sight of such an obstacle only incites me the more to fulfill the mission intrusted me, and nothing shall retard me.”
In due time, to the sound of a lively fanfare by his heralds, Prince Lothaire stood before the gates of the castle and was admitted to the great court that was ominously guarded by grim soldiery.
The Duke d’Aigremont received him in the great audience-chamber seated upon his throne. Beside him were his wife and son Renaud. Lothaire advanced to the duke to acquaint him with his mission, but instead of talking with moderation and following the counsels of the principal knights of his suite, he forgot all reserve and with a haughty mien spoke as follows:
“Woe to the servant who disobeys his master! Monseigneur! Charlemagne is irritated against you because you have not obeyed his commands. He demands to know your reasons. Also am I come by his commands to promise you his pardon, provided you will at once place yourself at his mercy and make oath to send him five hundred knights. If you persist in your refusal you shall receive no pity. Punishments most cruel will be visited upon thee and thine, and the loss of all thy domains and all thy subjects will be the consequence of thy obstinacy. I require an immediate answer. Decide quickly, for Charlemagne awaits my return with impatience.”
At these bold and indiscreet words the Duke d’Aigremont bounded to his feet enraged.
“By Saint Gris!” he cried, “tell thy father, Charlemagne, that not only do I refuse his appeal to assist him in war, but that I will myself make war upon him. I will come with my own army and destroy the kingdom of France.”
“Thou traitor!” shouted Lothaire in reply, forgetting all restraint and refusing the warnings of his suite to conduct himself moderately.
Those old days were grim times—there was very little between a word and a blow.
“Have a care, young man,” hissed D’Aigremont, his eyes blazing. “You will never return to thy father.”
“Traitor and coward!” hotly responded the prince, drawing his sword.
The duke, upon this, unsheathed his own sword and sprang upon Lothaire, his knights threw themselves upon the suite of the prince, and the mêlée became general.
The great audience-chamber rang with sounds of blows, oaths, shouts, and the cries of the wounded and dying.
Prince Lothaire was everywhere, his sword seemed invincible, a man fell at every stroke. Even when the Duke d’Aigremont appeared before him he barely resisted the furious onward rush of Lothaire and fell back staggering and wounded from a terrible stroke of his sword. But quickly recovering, in his turn he struck down the prince with all his force, and such was his fury he did not leave the mangled remains until he had cut off the head of his opponent.
Meantime in battle around them the men of the prince had fought bravely, although greatly outnumbered. Of the one hundred men composing the suite, only twenty remained alive, and these, seeing the fall of their chief commander, surrendered. The infuriated duke ordered all but ten of them to be killed, and these he made swear solemnly that they would carry the remains of the prince back to Paris.
“Tell him, thy master,” said he, “that here is the body of thy son. Be assured I shall not wait idly for thee to come and succor it.”
The ten knights having given their word to report these words faithfully, put the remains of Lothaire in a chariot and departed sorrowfully homeward.
In the meantime, Charlemagne, much disquieted at not receiving news of his son, openly manifested his fears. The sinister presentiments he had had made him think his son was dead, then in an access of rage he made the most terrible threats against the Duke d’Aigremont.
“I will go,” said he, “at the head of an army and reduce him to the most cruel extremities.”
Those surrounding him endeavored to calm him and convince him that it would be impossible for the Duke d’Aigremont to be capable of so infamous an action.
“If ever,” cried the Duke d’Aymon, “the Duke d’Aigremont has committed such a crime, he should be served with a startling vengeance. Who among us would refuse you support? For me, sire! and my four sons, count on our loyalty and courage.”
“I am deeply moved by thy fidelity, my good Aymon,” replied the king. “Many affairs have so occupied me that I have not yet seen thy four brave sons. Do thou present them to me on the morrow that I may arm them in a style befitting their high rank.”
Following upon this, the next day, in the presence of the whole court, Charlemagne formally knighted Maugis and presented him with a magnificent suit of armor that he had himself taken from the King of Cyprus, who had fallen under his own hand at Paraplumex. Then the king embraced him. Maugis had then placed upon his feet the golden spurs of Oger, the Dane, after which he sprang upon the back of his favorite horse, Bayard, whose name has come down to us in poetry and song as one of the most perfect animals that ever existed.
The three brothers of Maugis were equally well armed and knighted. Following these ceremonies, Charlemagne gave a tournament in their honor, at which the young men so acquitted themselves as to win the admiration of everyone.
Maugis, having defeated one of the most skillful knights of Charlemagne’s court, while riding around the lists toward the station of the king, amid the tumultuous plaudits of the onlookers, was stopped in his course by seeing a tiny glove tied with a knot of blue ribbon fall at his feet. Hastily dismounting and recovering it he looked up among the sea of faces regarding him and his eye was arrested by a beautiful figure seated beside a stalwart warrior, one of the guests of the court.
When two beautiful blue eyes met his own, their glance sought his heart direct; even as a moonbeam will kiss a placid pool and glorify it, so was the heart of Maugis gladdened. He failed not during the few seconds of the episode to note the tall willowy figure and the shapely head which was soon hidden blushing behind the shoulder of her brother, shrinking from the too ardent gaze of the young knight. Neither failed he to note that her slender waist was encircled by a sash of the same hue as the ribbon on the glove he held in his hand.
Little did he know the vicissitudes that would afterward divide their lives and pursue them when united—he only loved and was happy.
Reverently kissing the glove, Maugis placed it on his helmet and thereafter performed such deeds of valor and prowess that everyone was amazed. Charlemagne hastened to swear the four brothers into his service, and insisted that Maugis should never quit him. Still no news of Lothaire. The entire court was depressed. The king, accompanied by the Duke of Naimes, took long walks on the banks of the Seine, their favorite promenade, and there alone with his most intimate friend, the king poured out to him all his hopes and fears. One day while taking their accustomed walk, they saw at a great distance a cavalier covered with dust approach them at a gallop. They both at the same instant recognized him as one of the suite of Lothaire. Charlemagne, turning pale, threw himself into the arms of the Duke of Naimes.
“My son is dead,” he cried, “and it is I who am his murderer. How much better it would have been if, instead of showing clemency to the Duke of Aigremont, I had marched upon him at the head of an army. I would not have been to-day mourning the death of my son.”
At this moment the messenger knight, who had ridden night and day to bring the tidings, presented himself before them and announced the bloody death of Lothaire, which having done, overcome with fatigue, he fell at the feet of Charlemagne and expired.
A most touching scene then occurred between the emperor and his confidant. Both wept and amid their tears sought to console each other.
“Why shed tears?” said the Duke de Naimes, “our regrets will not bring back the prince to life. It is vengeance we must have now. To punish the murderer is, above all, our sole aim. God, who never abandons those who battle for the right, will sustain us. Here, it is not only the father who fights the assassin of his son, it is the sovereign who demands account of the blood of his ambassador.”
This energetic discourse had the effect intended by the duke. Charlemagne, with his face resolute, laid aside his sorrowings and gave orders to his knights, courtiers and soldiers for the disposition of the remains of his son. An immense cortége accompanied the body to the church of St. Germain des Pres, where the final obsequies occurred.
After the ceremony terminated, when Charlemagne was returning sorrowfully to Paris with his suite, revolving in his mind projects of vengeance, a messenger brought to him the startling intelligence that the Duke d’Aymon and his four sons had suddenly left the court and had quitted Paris. At this the king became so enraged and swore so violently that it was all in vain the courtiers sought to calm him by calling his attention to the fact that the Duke d’Aymon was the own brother of the Duke d’Aigremont, who had murdered his son, and when he left his sons were in duty bound to accompany him. Charlemagne could listen to nothing, but finally becoming more calm, demanded to know the real reason for the departure of the five knights.
It was reported to him that the Duke d’Aymon de Dordogne, being made aware of the death of Lothaire and of the felony of his brother d’Aigremont, called his sons together in council. He felt that they were in a false position owing to the shameful defection of their relative, and he realized that Charlemagne, in his just anger, would take a terrible revenge. What should they do? What course should they take? Support Charlemagne and thus aid in the destruction of their relative, or embrace the cause of Aigremont and violate their oath to the emperor?
Said Maugis: “I propose that we leave the court, retire to the Ardennes, and remain there to witness the result. By doing this neither party could accuse us of treason, for until we have taken a final decision we would have neither violated the ties of relationship nor the laws of friendship.”
This proposition was agreed to by all, and they immediately left the court and set out upon their journey home.
Though the motive of their sudden departure was honorable, Charlemagne, irritated not to have the help of five men of renowned valor, would consider no excuse and swore against them a war of extermination.
While the court of Charlemagne was engaged in active preparations, Aymon and his four sons gained in all haste their domains in the Ardennes, where Edwige, the wife of the duke, received them with joy. After the first moments consecrated to greeting, Edwige would know the news from Paris.
Alas! the joy of the poor mother was short-lived when she was apprised of the cause of their return.
Edwige was at the same time allied by marriage to the house of Charlemagne and to that of Aigremont. Her course was very difficult to choose; but having carefully reflected, she said to her husband and sons:
“Why do you hesitate to march with Charlemagne? He is your lord and has armed our sons; this thought should carry you to that side. The crime of our relative is infamous and inexcusable, and think you that the emperor, after having chastised the criminal, will not follow it up by attacking the traitors who have aided his enemies by a passive assistance, and who have, by so doing, diminished the forces of the royal army?
“The crime of D’Aigremont is unpardonable. An ambassador is sacred in all cases and it is violating those usages and those laws, recognized by all mankind, and more, his act has plunged the king into the deepest sorrow by cutting the throat of his son, who came in the name of his father to claim those sacred rights a sovereign has over his princes. If Aigremont conquers, how much will your conscience reproach you for not having aided in the punishment of the culpable. If on the other hand, he is vanquished, have you not good reason to fear the conqueror, who has insults and infidelity to avenge? The best thing to do is to take my advice, return to the emperor at once and serve him faithfully.”
The truth and justice of these words made a profound impression on the father and his sons, but the young knights did not relish the idea of returning to Paris, so they formed their plans to pass some time at the château of their father. Meanwhile, Charlemagne was actively occupied in raising his army. In response to his call, all the peers and knights were assembling their vassals on their estates.
May 18th was the time fixed for the assemblage of the army on the Champs-de-Mars at Paris.
The subjects of the emperor were not a single instant behind the day set.
On the part of the Duke d’Aigremont, he, knowing full well that the king would never pardon his crime, gave every attention to putting himself in defense, and made the rounds of his entire domain.
After a time he had raised a considerable army. His brothers, Gerard de Roussillon and the Duke de Nanteuil, also joined him with a number of soldiers.
When his army was complete, D’Aigremont deemed it wise to go out and meet the king, before he could besiege him in his own country, having respect for an enemy so bitter and active as Charlemagne. In fact the king, anxious to secure his revenge, would permit no one to place his troops. He would do that himself. He confined his advance guard to Gallerand de Bouillon, Nemours, Gui de Baviere, Oger, Richard and Eatonville. The rearguard was commanded by the Duke of Naimes.
The center he reserved for himself, and having made this disposition of his forces his army set out.
Hardly had the march commenced when he was informed by a deserter of the advance of the army of the Duke d’Aigremont to meet him, and that he had already invaded Champagne and was laying siege to Troyes with great activity, which news caused him to throw forward the detachments of the Duke de Naimes, the Duke de Bouillon and Godefroy de Frise, with orders to await the arrival of the main army, a short distance from the besieged city.
De Roussillon, who commanded the advance guard of D’Aigremont, soon perceived the advance guard of the king’s army and giving his war-cry, at once charged upon them, to which the army of Charlemagne responded, and the two armies met with a terrible shock, and so fierce was the onset that the ground was soon strewn with the wounded and dying and the débris of arms.
The Duke d’Aigremont charged upon Oger and stretched him senseless at his feet. Gerard and Nanteuil came quickly to join their brother, followed by the best of their troops, and hurled themselves on the enemy with renewed fury. Then were performed acts of the greatest valor. Richard de Normandy, who commanded the allies, made a heroic resistance. Spearmen from Lombardy, bowmen from Germany and Portevin, in serried ranks offered an indestructible line of battle. One knight, with more hardihood than the others, hurled himself against them in the endeavor to break it, and received his death by a lance-thrust from Gerard.
The three brothers, seeing that they could obtain no chance for success from that side, renewed their efforts by hurling themselves on the army of Charlemagne.
At the first shock the forces of Gallerand de Bouillon were nearly thrown from their feet. It was a moment requiring all their tenacity. Many were killed on both sides, but Charlemagne, with a prudence that never deserted him, even in the most perilous moments, allowed D’Aigremont and his brother to become engaged more and more until he found a favorite moment, and then moved his troops quickly around the flank of their forces and caught them in the rear.
The duke had been wounded by Richard de Normandy, and his life was only saved by the fall of his horse, which tumbled under a stroke of the sword intended for him.
Retreat now became the last resource of the army of the Duke d’Aigremont and the order was given and the battalions that had started out so brilliantly in the morning commenced to retire in good order.
Charlemagne at once saw the movement, and calling to him the Duke de Naimes, Godefroy de Frise, Gallerand and many others, he ordered them to pursue the Duke d’Aigremont and his brothers without relaxation, and if possible take them alive that he might visit upon them the direst vengeance.
These brave knights immediately started in pursuit of the enemy, but the falling of night prevented their carrying out the orders of Charlemagne.
After the terrible exertions of the day both armies needed rest. The Duke d’Aigremont was much chagrined at his defeat. His brother Gerard, in particular, who had been annoyed at the death of Lothaire, could not conceal his discontent; he could not resist making the complaint that he had made his promise to assist D’Aigremont in all things, but nevertheless, he desired to resume the attack upon the king the next day with all the force they could command and avenge their defeat and Nanteuil dissuaded them.
“I think,” said he, “that we are not defending a just cause, and that it would be better to send a deputation of our knights to Charlemagne and ask for peace. Are we not his subjects? Besides to prevail, we must attack him unaware. And suppose we do succeed in destroying his army, it will only follow that we shall again be opposed by a force more considerable than any we can assemble? No! I think the wisest course for us to pursue is to submit.”
The advice of Nanteuil prevailed. It was agreed that the following morning ambassadors were to be sent to Charlemagne to make terms of peace.
Accordingly, at sunrise the next day, thirty knights, chosen from the most experienced and from those of the highest rank, after having received the instructions of D’Aigremont, mounted their horses and proceeded to the camp of Charlemagne.
The king being informed of their approach assembled his army in battle array and received them at the door of his tent. The messengers of D’Aigremont came forward, bearing an olive branch as a sign of peace, and kneeling before him bowed down to the earth.
“Rise!” commanded Charlemagne.
“Sire,” said Henri de Brienne, “we have come in the name of the Duke de Beuves d’Aigremont to implore your clemency. We recognize the enormity of our crime, and here before your majesty we would place ourselves into your hands. We supplicate you, above all, to spare the poor people we compelled to obey us and who were forced into complicity in our crime. If your majesty will but say the word, the Duke d’Aigremont and his brothers will come and submit themselves to any punishment you may see fit to impose upon them.”
The king, trembling at the thought of being brought face to face once more with the murderer of his son, ordered the knights to return to their master and to have him present himself at once to receive punishment for his crimes, accompanied by his three brothers; that his army must surrender at discretion; that the ambassador might have no illusions as to his formal intention not to submit to any supplications, and that the truth of these words might be forced upon them, he ordered, in their presence, the erection of three gibbets upon which the three brothers were to swing.
These grim preparations completed, Charlemagne sent them back, giving them until noon to execute his commands, under penalty of immediately commencing hostilities.
The thirty knights returned to their camp and faithfully reported to the Duke d’Aigremont the words of Charlemagne. There was nothing left to do but bravely accept their fate. The order was immediately given for the disarmament of the troops. The Duke d’Aigremont had a difficult task in overcoming the repugnance of Gerard de Bouillon and De Nanteuil to submitting, but they finally consented to accompany him.
It was a sad and curious spectacle to see the Duke d’Aigremont and his two brothers on that bright and beautiful May morning, stripped to their shirts, with heads bare, with a cord attached to their necks, march at the head of several hundred knights, stripped to their shirts likewise, and followed by their soldiers with heads bare, all marching on foot along the road which separated their camp from the camp of Charlemagne. Upon their arrival at the tent of the emperor the three brothers with their suite and all their army kneeled to the earth, amid a great hush from the assembled hosts.
With constrained voice the emperor bid the three brothers arise, and sternly but silently pointed to them the way to the scaffold.
The three brothers without a single supplication obeyed in silence. On arriving at the foot of the gibbet, the emperor, who had followed, could no longer conceal his emotion, and for the moment the heart of the soldier overcame the sorrows of the father. He paused and with bitter tears filling his eyes:
“Barbarians!” cried he, “why should you have punished me so cruelly by destroying my beloved son, a young prince who complied loyally with the orders of his sovereign?”
D’Aigremont was deeply affected by the grief of the emperor. “Sire!” said he, “I beg to die without delay; I realize the enormity of my crime and that death alone can remove my disgrace.”
The executioners then approached to perform their sinister offices. The assembled armies awaited, breathless and concerned, the end of this powerful drama.
The emperor seemed to be entirely absorbed in his grief, but suddenly recovering command of himself and with a noble generosity, so characteristic of him, he forgot the death of his son, and, sacrificing his grief and revenge, these words fell from his lips:
“I pardon you,” said he to the condemned. “Can you appreciate the sentiments that dictate my conduct to you? Resume your titles and your dignities, everything shall be forgotten and the past shall be effaced—this time do not forget your oaths of fidelity, or else you cannot hope for my forgiveness.”
A thrill of admiration ran through all the spectators. Mute with surprise at first, there finally arose an explosion of joy from the hearts of those who, an instant previous, had been torn with fear and sorrow. Loud acclaims arose on every hand and the soldiers of the two armies embraced each other in a transport of joy.
D’Aigremont and his brothers were stricken dumb with surprise. They could hardly comprehend the greatness of soul and generosity of the emperor and stood silent. They then solemnly promised never to do anything again contrary to the wishes of their master, and renewed their oaths of fidelity.
The Duke de Naimes, the most devoted friend of the emperor, could not contain his satisfaction.
“Sire,” exclaimed he, “you are the greatest king the world has ever known. This act of generosity, which does you honor, will be an imperishable monument to you. You have commended your friends and your people to God and you will never have cause to regret your action.”
After some moments, when the enthusiasm had become calmed, Charlemagne caused all the arms and equipments of the three brothers, their knights and soldiers, to be returned to them, and when they had received them they cried to be led against the foes of the emperor and promised to use all efforts to aid him. The princes and their men that night encamped with the royal army.
