Charlemagne by this time had moved southward and was holding a Champ-de-Mai. This was a gathering together of the people by the King to decide whether there should be peace or war.

Upon receiving the word of Desiderius, war was instantly declared; every Frank who could fight hurried to join the great army, bringing with him his weapons, horses, and what food he could carry. There was need for haste. Hadrian, in spite of his brave resistance, could not hold out much longer. Desiderius, triumphing already, awaited another message from Charlemagne.

It came. It was brought by a frightened peasant from the hill-country riding in desperate haste. Desiderius heard with some dismay that Charlemagne had led a great army across the terrible, the impossible mountain pass, marching along ways where no man with an army behind him had marched since the time of Hannibal the Carthaginian.

Presently more tidings came. Charlemagne's uncle, the Duke Bernard, had led another great army over the other dangerous and unguarded pass. These two armies would, of course, join each other so soon as they were safely out of the hills. Desiderius in all haste marched his army northwards, hoping to catch the enemy at a disadvantage while they were yet passing through the narrow defiles of the hills.

But he was too late, and the Lombard judged it more prudent to retire to Pavia, the capital of Lombardy.

In this he did wisely. Pavia was a strong city, well provisioned and almost invulnerable. Desiderius had little fear of its capture, yet for safety's sake he sent his son, and the widow Giberga with her children, to another of his strong cities. Then disdainful, sure of his power to withstand a long siege, Desiderius awaited his enemy.

Charlemagne did not tarry. When word came of his coming, Desiderius, together with Ogier the Dane, climbed a high tower so better to catch the first glimpse of his approach. Presently in the distance, yet coming ever nearer, they saw a great army of soldiers who bore with them many formidable machines of war.

"Is Charlemagne among these soldiers?" asked Desiderius.

To which Ogier, who remembered the army of old, answered—"No, the King is not there."

Next came horde after horde of wild foreign soldiers, brought from every part of Charlemagne's vast domain.

"Surely Charlemagne walks triumphant among this great host," said Desiderius.

"No," answered Ogier, "he comes not yet."

On this Desiderius began to look dismayed. "How will he come, if not amongst his soldiers?" he asked.

"You will not mistake him when he does come," replied Ogier; "and may God have mercy upon us."

Even while he spoke there appeared a huge regiment of guards. "Verily he must be among these," cried Desiderius, and his voice trembled, but so slightly that you could not notice it.

"No," answered Ogier, "he comes not yet."

Lo, now they beheld an almost endless procession of bishops and priests and clerks of the Chapel Royal, and after them marched the great nobles and counts. At sight of these Desiderius grew pale.

"Behold the terrible King!" cried he.

"Not yet," answered Ogier "When you see the grass in the meadows shake with fear, when you behold the rivers turn into iron and overflow and beat against the walls of the city with their iron waves, then you may believe that Charlemagne is here."

As he spoke, toward the region of the setting sun there appeared a sombre cloud which seemed verily to block out the light of the day with its terrible shadow. As it approached, a fearful sound was heard like the noise of thunder on a dark night. It was the clatter of armed men.

Then came Charlemagne riding upon his huge war-horse. He wore on his head an iron helmet; on his hands were iron gauntlets. His breastplate and cuirass were of strong iron and also his shield. He held an iron lance in his left hand, while always his right hand rested on his invincible sword. His horse had the strength and the colour of iron.

All the soldiers who went before the monarch, all those who marched at his sides, all those who followed him, were clothed in iron armour. To Desiderius it was as if iron covered the plains and the roads; the very rays of the sun seemed tipped with it.

The folk, watching from the walls of the threatened city, beheld the sight with terror. "Alas! alas!" they cried, "we are lost!"

The sound of their crying rose to torment the ears of their King. "Behold Charlemagne," said Ogier at last, and he too looked pale. Desiderius bowed his head. He was dismayed; nevertheless, he determined to hold out to the last.

The great army made its camp round about the city—making ready for a long stay. Charlemagne ordered them to build him a lovely chapel so he might worship there undisturbed. He meant to show both his strength and his mercy. He would neither attack nor slaughter, nor would he leave Pavia until the city was his.

For many months he waited there, holding the siege. Nevertheless he sent parts of his army to rescue the cities Desiderius had taken. He even journeyed to Rome with all his train of bishops to pay a state visit to Hadrian; and the Romans hailed him with great joy as their Emperor. Then the hero, after having given back to the Church all those cities which Desiderius had taken away from it, returned to his army still besieging Pavia.

And now was that city harder beset than ever. The citizens by this time were starving, and so strict a watch did Charlemagne keep that no living thing nor any morsel of food could pass the gates. Only the birds of the air were free to enter. Then the Pavians saw that they must perish with hunger if they resisted a day longer, so they surrendered. They gave up the keys of their city to Charlemagne; they gave up their King; then they waited, trusting in their conqueror's kindness of heart.

Charlemagne did not betray that trust. No citizen of Pavia was slaughtered or molested in any way. Desiderius was sent to a monastery where he could do no more harm, and where he seems to have been not unhappy, while Charlemagne wore on his head the iron crown of the Kings of Lombardy.

As was his wont, he ruled his new subjects well and wisely, so that they loved him and were loyal to him as to one of their own race.

Now this is only one of a thousand tales that might be told in praise of the great Charlemagne who made of his conquests one vast empire, over which he ruled gloriously for many long years. He, too, and much more splendidly than Clovis, had made of Gaul a united and glorious kingdom. Yet after his death it became divided, shorn of half its possessions, and at last came to be known as the kingdom of the Franks—that is to say, France.