A Book of Myths, by Jean Lang - Umnet

"No one sent me," he said. "My mother lay very cold and still and
would not speak, and she had said my father would come back no more,
so there was none but me to seek her food. Give me the wine, I say! for
she is so cold and so very, very white"--and the child struggled to free
his hand that still held the cup.
"Who art thou, then?" asked Charlemagne.
"My name is Roland--let me go, I pray thee," and again he tried to drag
himself free. And Charlemagne mockingly said:
"Roland, I fear thy father and mother have taught thee to be a clever
thief."
Then anger blazed in Roland's eyes.
"My mother is a lady of high degree!" he cried, "and I am her page, her
cupbearer, her knight! I do not speak false words!"--and he would have
struck the King for very rage.
Then Charlemagne turned to his lords and asked--"Who is this child?"
And one made answer: "He is the son of thy sister Bertha, and of Milon
the knight, who was drowned these three weeks agone."
Then the heart of Charlemagne grew heavy with remorse when he
found that his sister had so nearly died of want, and from that day she
never knew aught but kindness and tenderness from him, while Roland
was dear to him as his own child.
He was a Douzepere now, and when the envoys from Saragossa had
delivered their message to Charlemagne, he was one of those who
helped to do them honour at a great feast that was held for them in a
pavilion raised in the orchard.
Early in the morning Charlemagne heard mass, and then, on his golden
throne under the great pine, he sat and took counsel with his
Douzeperes. Not one of them trusted Marsile, but Ganelon, who had