Written by Ben Groenen (Raushan)

In 778 AD, the Mayor of Saragossa sent an invitation to Charlemagne of the Kingdom of the Franks to send an army to free him from the shackles of Moorish rule. Charlemagne was only too happy to oblige … for as well as offering him another direction to send his ravenous, land-hungry army against, it would be oh so sweet revenge for the Moorish incursions of little over 50 years before. Unfortunately (if I do say so myself) for Charlemagne, as he was moving his army through the Pyrenees he passed through the valley of Roncevalles.

Now this was nothing for the mighty Charlemagne, but it was another thing for his little rearguard. Led by the indomitable, redoubtable, resolute and formidable Count Roland, this band of fated, Frankish force was beset by a belligerent, bloodthirsty band of brigands commonly known as the Basques. Looking to rebel against their oppressors and show their will for independence, they swept down on the army that passed through their lands. Unfortunately for all involved (including myself), they couldn’t wait to fight against their actual oppressors but struck out at the nearest army.

The Franks never had a chance … once Roland decided not to blow his horn to summon the rest of his army. Even if they were my enemy, the sheer arrogance to cause so much suffering and needless waste was nauseating. The Emirate Lancer troop I was with, the troop trailing the Frankish army suddenly found ourselves being dragged from mere watchers to victims of the slaughter when another band of Basques closed in from behind us. I’d like to say I fought valiantly, and brought low many enemies of Allah, but I am not a warrior and I was ill from the sights I had already seen.

Laid low, I saw no more … for a while. I came to from the pain. I knew where I had been hit, I could feel the ravages that had been done to my body. I knew that Allah was going to take me from this world shortly. I had lived more than forty years, truly a long life for a physician who had spent more time than most amongst fighting-men and war. So I shouldn’t feel sad, should I?

I came to again after it had become dark. I was cold, and probably not just from the chill of the night. Time must have passed for the moon seemed to jump from place to place in the sky, when I even noticed it. But during that long wait for the final dawn, I heard someone was nearby … moving some of the bodies. How dare they … robbing the dead …

Heh heh! I must be more alive than I thought, or – Ahhh! – much closer to Paradise than I thought. Whoever it is must have heard me for he (the booted stride cannot be a woman’s) comes near. I’m confused, for it looks like a lord has come to this charnel-field. “You still live”, says this man who obviously needs to state the obvious. I would never do that, would I?

As he bends closer, I am startled to see his eyes are a vibrant, rich green. Not quite like when I look in the mirror, but … Why is he wasting his time with me, can’t he see I’m dying? “Help the others, for I am all but dead.”

But he does not seem to be paying attention to what I have said. He is staring at me strangely, even when I repeat what is almost certainly my final eulogy. Then he asks me who my mother was. What is this man? Is this a man? Or is this just the dream of a dying man? I’d always thought that the final visions of the dying were more … well, uplifting. Oh well, my answer seems to put him back on his heels, and then he nods at me. Getting up, he walks away and moves out of my sight. At least he left me lying more comfortable … heh heh. Now that’s important, now.

Then I am staring up at a most beautiful face, a little bit familiar but one never seen before. I must have passed over. But then I hear the voice of that strange lord again, saying “I ask you for this one” (?) Her face looks amused, as she seems to breathe the question “Why?” I don’t recall what else I heard as I felt myself drifting away.

Bitter-tasting blood … sweet-tasting (?) blood … pain … hunger … then I was aware again. In comfort, in bed and … still alive? But I had been dying… No! I remembered being dead … I think. Time passed as I still drifted in and out of consciousness. Until the time I awoke to find the lady I came to know as Lillane.

Many things she taught me in the years that followed, but nothing so surprising as to call me nephew. Though that was not as surprising at finding that my father was not the person I had known, but was not even a person. … Well, not human at least. Lord Lucio had been with mother … Mother!

But enough of me! I consider me to be very important, but I am old enough now to recognize that not everyone has my wisdom. What else happened … oh yes! I was not the only one who was rescued from the valley of death. That most noble warrior who would see his men dead before calling for help was also rescued. Roland, or Rollon as he was now, was brought into the family as well. Of the most martial bearing and never a finer swordsman have I seen, but I have also never seen anyone else with no humility nor any concern for others. Overbearing to all but Lord Tomas, Lady Lillane and Lucio, he is fine as long as he doesn’t speak. But he is fun to tease … Well, you must be getting a hint of my feelings to brother Rollon.

The other members of our family are Monaco, someone from Greek lands when they were part of the Roman Empire, a Briton couple named Owain and Gwynhwyfar from about the fall of the Roman Empire, and a burly Saxon knight named Wolfstead Hengisson from about the same time.