Beard

Beards are an old man's game in the Song of Roland, which is kind of a bummer for the young hot shots because, boy, are those beards full of feeling. The first time we meet Charlemagne, his beard gets top billing:

His beard is white and his head is hoary,
His body is well proportioned and his look is fierce. (8.117-18)

So what exactly does this beard signify? First off, the possession of a beard indicates age, experience, and wisdom. And it's not dependent on goodness either. Charlemagne has a rich long beard but so does Marsile and the Emir, and they're no Santa Clauses (Christian and jolly). Symbols of battle prowess and bravery, beards can also terrorize under the right circumstances, like when Charlemagne and his men ride into battle with their white beards flowing. As Baligant's brother reports,

"The Emperor is riding forth very fiercely,
He is in the rear with the bearded men,
Over their byrnies they have displayed their beards,
Which are white as snow on ice." (238.3316-19)

And since he mentioned it, why is the whiteness of these beards so important? Because only old men have white beards, they directly indicate age and thus also signify the experience and wisdom that are supposed to go along with it. But this whiteness is also beautiful in an awe-inspiring way.

Let's face it, most old guys are not the prettiest people around. And if you believe Marsile's guesstimate, Charlemagne is over 200 years old while the Emir has been around since Homer (189.2616). But in the descriptions of beards as flowers, we get a different kind of fashion statement: it's cool to be old 'cuz that means I'm good at fighting and full of wisdom. Take this description of Baligant:

The Emir looks a good deal like a true knight:
He has a beard that is white as a flower. (229.3172-73)

With his daisy-white whiskers, he looks good enough to be a Christian.

But beards are more than fashion. They are also super-sensitive conveyors of emotion, capable of expressing the profoundest despair or the deepest anxiety by being pulled, tugged, torn, or stroked. Instead of telling us directly how someone is feeling, the poet shows us through the beard action.

Imagine you were watching a film of the Song of Roland. The camera pans to Charlemagne at Roncevaux, surveying the dead. Would a voice-over say: Charlemagne is bitterly disturbed at the thought of his young nephew being murdered in a mountain pass? Only if it was a lame film.

A good director would try to convey this emotion through visual cues, like tears and beards. All this beard-pulling gives the Song of Roland a cinematic but intimate feel, contrasting the big grandeur of battle with the small intimacies of facial expression.