It needed no word of Charlemagne to arouse the ardor of his warriors.
Every other undertaking must be laid aside, so long as Rome and the
Church were in danger. And the heralds proclaimed that on the morrow,
at break of day, the army would move southward toward Italy.

The morning after Easter dawned, and the great army waited for the
signal to march. The bugles sounded, and the long line of steel-clad
knights and warriors began to move. Charlemagne rode in the front
ranks, ready, like a true knight, to brave every difficulty, and to be
the first in every post of danger. Never did a better king wear spur.

Great was the haste with which the army moved, and very impatient were
the warriors; for the whole of France lay between them and fair Italy,
and they knew that weeks of weary marching must be endured, ere they
could meet their Pagan foe in battle, and drive him out of the
Christians' land.

Many days they rode among the rich fields and between the blooming
orchards of the Seine valley; many days they toiled over unbroken
forest roads, and among marshes and bogs, and across untrodden
moorlands. They climbed steep hills, and swam broad rivers, and
endured the rain and the wind and the fierce heat of the noonday sun,
and sometimes even the pangs of hunger and thirst. But they carried
brave hearts within them; and they comforted themselves with the
thought that all their suffering was for the glory of God and the honor
of the king, for their country's safety and the security of their homes.

Every day, as they advanced, the army increased in numbers and in
strength: for the news had been carried all over the land, that the