On his return to France Charlemagne suspected Ganelon of treachery, and had him tried by twelve peers, who, unable to decide the question, bade him prove his innocence in single combat with Roland’s squire, Thiedric.  Ganelon, taking advantage of the usual privilege to have his cause defended by a champion, selected Pinabel, the most famous swordsman of the time.  In spite of all his valor, however, this champion was defeated, and the “judgment of God”—­the term generally applied to those judicial combats—­was in favor of Thiedric.  Ganelon, thus convicted of treason, was sentenced to be drawn and quartered, and was executed at Aix-la-Chapelle, in punishment for his sins.

“Ere long for this he lost
Both limb and life, judged and condemned at Aix,
There to be hanged with thirty of his race
Who were not spared the punishment of death. 
Aoi.”
Chanson de Roland (Rabillon’s tr.).

[Sidenote:  Roland and Aude.] Roland, having seen Aude, Oliver’s sister, at the siege of Viane, where she even fought against him, if the old epics are to be believed, had been so smitten with her charms that he declared that he would marry none but her.  When the siege was over, and lifelong friendship had been sworn between Roland and Oliver after their memorable duel on an island in the Rhone, Roland was publicly betrothed to the charming Aude.  Before their nuptials could take place, however, he was forced to leave for Spain, where, as we have seen, he died an heroic death.  The sad news of his demise was brought to Paris, where the Lady Aude was awaiting him.  When she heard that he would never return, she died of grief, and was buried at his side in the chapel of Blaive.

    “In Paris Lady Alda sits, Sir Roland’s destined bride. 
    With her three hundred maidens, to tend her, at her side;
    Alike their robes and sandals all, and the braid that binds their
          hair,
    And alike the meal, in their Lady’s hall, the whole three hundred
          share. 
    Around her, in her chair of state, they all their places hold;
    A hundred weave the web of silk, and a hundred spin the gold,
    And a hundred touch their gentle lutes to sooth that Lady’s pain,
    As she thinks on him that’s far away with the host of Charlemagne. 
    Lulled by the sound, she sleeps, but soon she wakens with a
          scream;
    And, as her maidens gather round, she thus recounts her dream: 
    ’I sat upon a desert shore, and from the mountain nigh,
    Right toward me, I seemed to see a gentle falcon fly;
    But close behind an eagle swooped, and struck that falcon down,
    And with talons and beak he rent the bird, as he cowered beneath
          my gown.’ 
    The chief of her maidens smiled, and said; ’To me it doth not
          seem
    That the Lady Alda reads aright the boding of her dream. 
    Thou art the falcon, and thy knight is the eagle in his pride,