-If God gives me no better fortune than to the unhappy, said Roger Baron, do me the favor to tell your daughter that I died thinking of her and her name on the lips.

Tears came to the eyes of the noble warrior, placing both hands on the shoulders of Roger kissed him affectionately. The boy ran to the rope and slid down it with great alacrity, the stones thrown by the enemy deep into the rock crashed, a hair and brushed his last one hit him in the side, causing keenest pain. Come, however, the end of the rope, dropped from no small height above the summit of the highest ridge, which was at the foot of the formidable rock where they were besieged friends. So high was it that Roger still had to descend more than twenty yards, a steep slope that offered little foothold. Clinging desperately to the wild plants growing in the clefts of the rocks, putting your feet in very slight depressions of the inclined plane, or in rocks that are often loose and threatened to drag him, exposed to die ten times, finally reached solid ground and jumping from rock to rock or running through the bushes, he was safely on the plains from above had shown him the Baron and where some horses were grazing. Tended and hand to grab the bridle of one of them, when he received strong stone head that knocked him down stunned.

The author of that feat slinger, seeing Roger alone and lifeless and judging by the appearance and dress of the young man was an Englishman, began to rush down the hill where he was stationed with others, eager to deprive his victim and knowing that the archers had exhausted all their arrows