Chapter 23: Rinaldo and His Wonderful Horse Bayard

There was a Belgian lord, named Aymon, who built a castle in the mountainous part of Belgium. It was on so high a peak that it seemed also as if no one but eagles, or fairies, could live in it.

Besides his brave soldiers with him in the castle, Aymon’s four stalwart sons were there to help him. Their names were Rinaldo, Allard, Guichard, and Richard. They were the biggest men known in the country. Rinaldo, the oldest, was as tall as the largest giant, for he stood sixteen feet high. When he rode a horse, he had to twist his legs up around the pommel of his saddle, so that his heels or toes would not dig into the ground, or drag on behind. In fact, no horse wanted to be under him, and there was always misery in stables, whenever it was known that Rinaldo wanted to go out riding, or hunting. But the horse Bayard always enjoyed careering over the country with his master in the saddle.

Happily, this long-legged fellow had a cousin, named Mangis, who pitied him for having such long legs, and being thus obliged to pay a large tailor’s bill, every time he wanted a pair of leggings. Moreover, Marquis was sorry for the horses which Rinaldo had to ride, and wanted to find out some way to make it easier, for the dumb creatures in the stables.

Now the castle of Duke Aymon was at Egremont, a few leagues from the famous city of Liège. Its master thought it to be so strong, that no army, however brave, or supplied with good engineers and plenty of catapults, could ever conquer it.

When Charlemagne sent a host of mighty men to Egremont, and the commander ordered his trumpeter to go to the gate of Aymon, and there demand his surrender, the proud Duke behaved both haughtily and naughtily. He put his thumb to his nose and then wiggled his four fingers at the trumpeter, in the most impolite manner. He then bade his master to go and eat turnips, and not bother him any more, with his foolish chatter about surrendering. He had beef, and bread, and sausages, and oats and hay, enough to last five years. Moreover, he did not care a clam shell for Charlemagne and all his host. Let them go and fight the Saracens, if they wanted to. Who cared?

The trumpeter came once more, and repeated his demand that Duke Aymon should come out of his castle, and kneel down before Charlemagne and beg his pardon, kiss his hand, and promise to be loyal and obedient.

But the Duke, instead of listening politely, was even more impudent, than before. This time he not only wiggled the fingers of his right hand at the trumpeter, but he actually wiggled-waggled. That is, as soon as the trumpeter ceased blowing, he put his right thumb to his nose, and then, joining the little finger of the right hand, to the thumb of his left hand, he made a most contemptuous double motion, with all of his ten fingers wiggling at once.

At this the trumpeter, having lost his temper at the Duke, who was high up on the walls, shook his fist at him, and went off in high dudgeon. He reported to Charlemagne that his overproud vassal had actually wiggled-waggled to his face.

Thereupon, Charlemagne ordered his army to bring up the catapults, and they sent a storm of stones into the castle. They hurled blazing bundles of oil soaked in tow, while the archers and crossbowmen swept the turrets and walls with showers of arrows, and iron-headed bolts. This was to keep off the besiegers from the ramparts, so that they could not interfere with the sappers and miners. These men were far down on the lowest side of the castle, digging below the foundations, so as to undermine the walls and tumble them down. They dug the earth away, with their picks and hammers, and then knocked away several rods of masonry. At first, they supported the walls at intervals with heavy pillars of wood, made of tree trunks, until all was ready. Then, they would set the wooden columns on fire, and the whole side of the castle would fall down.