"Fear not, young man," said the stranger to Julyan, "the religion of Hesus is the only true religion; it teaches us that after death we are reclad in younger and handsomer bodies."
"I pin my hopes on that!" said Stumpy.
THE STORY OF SYOMARA.
The storm of questions had spent itself and the thirst for fresh stories returned among the assembled family of Joel, whose head remarked with wonderment: "What a thing traveling is? How much one learns; but we must not lag behind our guest. Story for story. Proud Gallic woman for proud Gallic woman. Friend guest, ask Mamm' Margarid to tell you the beautiful story and deed of one of her own female ancestors, which happened about a hundred and thirty years ago when our fathers went as far as Asia to found a new Gaul, because you must know that few are the countries on earth that their soles have not trod upon."
"After your wife's story," answered the stranger, "and seeing that you wish to speak of our own ancestors, I shall also speak of them ... and by Ritha Gaür!... never would the time be fitter. While we are here telling stories, you do not seem to know what is going on elsewhere in the land; you do not know that perhaps at this very moment—"
"Why do you interrupt yourself?" asked Joel wondering at the suddenness with which his guest broke off in the middle of the sentence. "What is going on while we are here telling stories? What better can we do at the corner of our hearth during an autumn evening?"
Instead of answering Joel, the stranger respectfully said to Mamm' Margarid:
"I shall listen to the story of Joel's wife."
"It is a very short and simple story," answered Margarid plying her distaff. "The story is as simple as the action of my ancestral grandmother. Her name was Syomara."
"And in honor of her," said Guilhern breaking in upon his mother and proudly pointing the stranger to an eight year old child of surprising beauty, "in honor of our ancestral grandmother Syomara, who was as beautiful as she was brave, I have given her name to this little girl of mine."
"This is indeed a most charming child," remarked the stranger struck by the lovely face of little Syomara. "I am sure she will have her grandmother's valor in the same degree that she is endowed with her beauty."
Henory, the child's mother blushed with joy at these words and said smiling to Mamm' Margarid:
"I dare not blame Guilhern for having interrupted you; it brought on the pretty compliment."
"The compliment is as sweet to me as to you, my daughter," answered Mamm' Margarid; saying which she began her story:
"My grandmother's name was Syomara; she was the daughter of Ronan. Her father had taken her into lower Languedoc whither his traffic called him. The Gauls of the neighborhood were just preparing for the expedition to the East. Their chief, Oriegon by name, saw my grandmother, was fascinated by her beauty, won her love and married her. Syomara departed with her husband on the expedition to the East. At first they triumphed. Afterwards, the Romans, who were ever jealous of the Gallic possessions, attacked our fathers. In one of the battles, Syomara, who, led thereto both by duty and love, accompanied Oriegon, her husband, to battle in a war-chariot, was separated from her husband during the fray, taken prisoner, and placed under the guard of a Roman officer, who was a miser and a libertine. The Roman, who was captivated by the beauty of Syomara, attempted to seduce her; but she repelled his advances with contempt. He then surprised his captive during her sleep and outraged her—"
"Listen, Joel!" cried the stranger indignantly. "Listen to that!... A Roman subjects an ancestor of your wife to such indignity!"
"Listen to the end of the story, friend guest," said Joel; "you will see that Syomara is the peer of the Gallic woman of the Rhine."
"The one and the other," Margarid proceeded, "showed themselves true to the maxim that there are three kinds of chastity among the women of Gaul: The first, when a father says in the presence of his daughter that he grants her hand to him whom she loves; the second, when for the first time she enters her husband's bed; and the third, when she appears the next morning before other men. The Roman had outraged Syomara, his prisoner. His passion being satisfied, he offered her freedom upon payment of a ransom. She accepted the offer and induced the Roman to send her servant, a prisoner like herself, to the camp of the Gauls and tell Oriegon or, in his absence, any of his friends, to bring the ransom to an appointed place. The servant departed to the camp of the Gauls. The miserly Roman, wishing himself to receive the ransom and not share it with anyone else, led Syomara alone to the appointed place. The friends of Oriegon were there with the gold for the ransom. While the Roman was counting the gold, Syomara addressed the Gauls in their own tongue and ordered them to kill the infamous man. Her orders were executed on the spot. Syomara then cut off his head, placed it in a fold of her dress and returned to the camp of her people. Oriegon, who had himself been also taken prisoner and managed to escape, arrived in camp at the same time as his wife. At the sight of her husband, Syomara dropped the head of the Roman at his feet and addressed Oriegon saying: 'That is the head of a man who outraged me.... There is none but you who can say that he possessed me.'"
At the close of her narrative, Mamm' Margarid continued to spin in silence.
"Did I not tell you, friend," said Joel, "that Syomara, Margarid's grandmother, was the peer of your Gallic woman of the Rhine?"
"And must not the noble name bring good luck to my daughter!" added Guilhern tenderly kissing the blonde head of the child.
"That powerful and chaste story is worthy of the lips that told it," said the stranger. "It also proves that the Romans, our implacable enemies, have not changed. Avaricious and debauched were they once—and are to-day. And seeing that we are speaking of the avaricious and debauched Romans and that you love stories," he added with a bitter smile, "you must know that I have been in Rome ... and that I saw ... Julius Cæsar ... the most famous of the Roman generals, as also the most avaricious and the most debauched man of all Italy. I would not venture to speak of his infamous acts of libertinage before women and young girls."
"Oh! Did you see that famous Julius Cæsar? What kind of a looking man is he?" asked Joel with great inquisitiveness.
The stranger looked at the brenn as if greatly surprised at the question, and answered with an effort to suppress his anger:
"Cæsar is nearing old age; he is tall of stature; his face is lean and long; his complexion pale; his eyes black; his head bald. Seeing the man combines in his person all the vices of the worst women of the Romans, he is possessed, like them, of extraordinary personal vanity. Accordingly, in order to conceal his baldness, he ever carries a chaplet of gold leaves on his head. Is your inquisitiveness satisfied, Joel? Would you want more details about Cæsar's infirmities? That he is subject to epileptic fits?... That—"
But the stranger did not finish his sentence. Letting his eyes wander over the assembled family of the brenn, he cried with towering rage:
"By the anger of Hesus! Can it be that all of you—as many as you are here capable of seizing the sabre and the sword but insatiable after idle stories—can it be you do not know that a Roman army, after having invaded under the command of Cæsarone-half of our provinces, has taken winter quarters in the country of Orleans, of Touraine and of Anjou?"
"Yes, yes; we have heard about it," calmly said Joel. "People from Anjou, who came here to buy beef and pork, told us about it."
"And it is with such unconcern that you speak of the Roman invasion of Gaul?" cried the traveler.
"Never have the Breton Gauls been invaded by strangers," proudly answered the brenn of the tribe of Karnak. "We shall remain spotless of the taint. We are independent of the Gauls of Piotou, of Touraine, of Orleans and of the other sections of the land, just as they are independent of us. They have not asked for our help. We are not so constituted as to offer ourselves to their chiefs and to fight under them. Let everyone guard his own honor and his own province. The Romans are in Touraine ... but it is a long way from Touraine to here."
"So that if the pirates of the North were to kill your son Albinik the sailor and his brave wife Meroë, it would no wise concern you because the murder was committed far from here?"
"You are joking. My son is my son.... The Gauls of provinces other than mine are not my sons!"
"Are they not, like yourself, the sons of the same god, as the druid religion teaches you? If that is so, are not all the Gauls your brothers? And does not the subjugation, does not the blood of a brother cry for vengeance? Are you unconcerned because the enemy is not at the very gates of your own homestead? On that principle, the hand, even when it knows that the foot is gangrened, could say to itself: 'As to me, I am well, and the foot is far from the hand—I need not worry over the disease.' And the gangrene, not being stopped, rises from the foot to the other members, until the whole body perishes."
"Unless the healthy hand take an axe," said the brenn, "and cut off the foot from which the evil proceeds."
"And what becomes of the body that is thus mutilated, Joel?" put in Mamm' Margarid who all the while had been listening insilence. "When the best regions of the country shall have been invaded by the stranger, what will then become of the rest of Gaul? Thus mutilated and dismembered, how will she defend herself against her enemies?"
"The worthy spouse of my host speaks wisely," said the traveler respectfully to Mamm' Margarid; "like all Gallic matrons she holds her place at the public council as well as at her hearth."
"You speak truly," rejoined Joel, "Margarid has a brave heart and a wise head. Often her opinion is better than mine.... I gladly say so.... But this time I am right. Whatever may happen to the rest of Gaul, never will the Romans set foot in our old Britanny. There are her rocks, her marshes, her woods, her sand banks—above all her Bretons to defend her."
At these words of her husband Mamm' Margarid shook her head disapprovingly; all the men of the family, however, loudly applauded their brenn's words.
THE STORY OF GAUL.
When the noisy and martial ardor, evoked by the boastful words of the brenn of the tribe of Karnak had subsided, the traveler was seen sitting in somber silence. He looked up and said:
"Very well, one more and last story, but let this one fall upon the hearts of you all like burning brass, seeing that the wise words of this household's matron have proved futile."
All looked with surprise at the stranger, who with somber and severe mien began his story with these words:
"Once upon a time, as far back as two or three thousand years, there lived a family here in Gaul. Whence did it come, to fill the vast solitudes that to-day are so populous? It doubtlessly came from the heart of Asia, that ancient cradle of the human races, now, however, hidden in the night of antiquity. That family ever preserved a type peculiar to itself, and found with no other people of the world. Loyal, hospitable, generous, vivacious, gay, inclined to humor, loving to tell, above all, to hear stories, intrepid in battle, daring death more heroically than any other nation, because its religion taught it what death was—such were that family's virtues. Giddy-headed, vagabond, presumptuous, inconsistent, curious after novelty, and greedier yet of seeing than of conquering unknown countries, as easily uniting as falling apart, too proud and too fickle to adjust its opinions to those of its neighbors, or if consenting thereto, incapable of long marching in concert with them, although common and vital interests be at stake—such are that family's vices. In point of its virtues and in point of its vices, thus has italways been since the remotest centuries; thus is it to-day; thus will it be to-morrow."
"Oh, oh! If I am not much mistaken," broke in the brenn smiling, "all of us, Gauls though we may be, must have some cousin red with that family."
"Yes," said the stranger, "to its own misfortune—and to the joy of its enemies—such has been and such is to-day the character of our own people!"
"But at least admit, despite such a character, the dear Gallic people has made its way well through the world. Few are the countries where the inquisitive vagabond, as you call it, did not promenade his shoes, with his nose in the air, his sword at his side—"
"You are right. Such is its spirit of adventure: always marching ahead towards the unknown, rather than to stop and build. Thus, to-day, one-third of Gaul is in the hands of the Romans, while some centuries ago the Gallic race occupied through its headlong conquests, besides Gaul, England, Ireland, upper Italy, the banks of the Danube, and the countries along the sea border as far east and north as Denmark. Nor yet was that enough. It looked as if our race was to spread itself over the whole world. The Gauls of the Danube went into Macedonia, into Thrace, into Thessaly. Others of them crossed the Bosphorus and the Hellespont, reached Asia Minor, founded New Gaul, and thus became the arbiters of all the kingdoms of the East."
"So far, meseems," rejoined the brenn, "we have nothing to regret over our character that you so severely judge."
"And what is left of those senseless battles, undertaken by the pride of the kings who then reigned over the Gauls?" the stranger proceeded looking around. "Have not the distant conquests slipped from us? Have not our implacable and ever more powerful enemies, the Romans, raised all the peoples against us? Have we not been compelled to abandon those useless possessions—Asia, Greece, Germany, Italy? That is the net result of so muchheroism and so much blood! That is the pass to which we have been brought by the ambition of the kings, who usurped the power of the druids!"
"To that I have nothing to say. You are right. There was no need of promenading so far away only to soil the soles of our shoes with the blood and the dust of foreign lands. But if I am not mistaken, it was at about that time that the sons of the brave Ritha Gaür, who had a blouse made for himself of the beards of the kings whom he shaved, seeing in these the butchers of the people and not its shepherds, overthrew the royalty."
"Yes, thanks to the gods, an epoch of real grandeur, of peace and of prosperity succeeded the barren and bloody conquests of the kings. Disembarassed of its useless possessions, reduced to rational limits—its natural frontiers—the Rhine, the Alps, the Pyrenees and the Ocean—the republic of the Gauls became the queen and envy of the world. Its fertile soil, cultivated as we so well know how, produced everything in abundance; the rivers were covered with merchant vessels; gold, silver and copper mines increased its wealth every day; large cities rose everywhere. The druids, spreading light in all directions, preached union to the provinces, and set the example by convoking once a year in the center of Gaul solemn assemblies, at which the general interests of the country were considered. Each tribe, each canton, each town, elected its own magistrates; each province was a republic which, according to the druid plan, merged into the great Republic of the Gauls, and thus constituted one powerful body through the union of all."
"The fathers of our grandfathers saw those happy days, friend guest."
"And their sons saw only ruins and misfortune! What has happened? The accursed stock of dethroned kings joins the stock of their former and no less accursed clients or seigneurs, and all of them, irritated at having been deposed of their authority, hope for restoration from the public misfortunes, and exploit with infamous perfidy our innate pride and lack of discipline, which,under the powerful influence of the druids, were being steadily corrected. The rivalries between province and province, long allayed, re-awakened; jealousies and hatreds sprang up anew; everywhere the structure of union began to crumble. For all this the kings do not re-ascend the throne. Many of their descendants are even judicially executed. But they have unchained internal feud. Civil war flares up. The more powerful provinces seek to subjugate the weaker. Thus, towards the end of the last century, the Marseillians, the descendants of the exiled Greeks to whom Gaul generously assigned the territory on which they built their town, sought to assume the rôle of sovereignty. The province rose against the town; finding herself in danger, Marseilles called the Romans to her aid. They came, not to sustain Marseilles in her contemplated iniquity, but to themselves take possession of the region, a purpose that they succeeded in, despite the prodigies of valor with which they were opposed. Established in Provence, the Romans built the town of Aix, and thus founded their first colony on our soil—"
"Oh, a curse upon the Marseillians!" cried Joel. "It was thanks to those sons of Greeks that the Romans gained a foothold in Gaul!"
"By what right can we curse the people of Marseilles? Must not also those provinces be cursed which, since the decline of the republic, thus allowed one of their sisters to be overpowered and subjugated? But retribution was swift. Encouraged by the indifference of the Gauls, the Romans took possession of Auvergne, and later of the Dauphine, and a little later also of Languedoc and Vivarais despite the heroic defence of their peoples, who, besides being divided among themselves, were left to their own resources. Thus the Romans became masters of almost all southern Gaul; they govern it by their proconsuls and reduce its people to slavery. Do the other provinces at last take alarm at these ominous invasions of Rome that push ever forward and threaten the very heart of Gaul? No! No! Relying upon their own courage, they say as you, Joel, did shortly ago: 'The Southlies far away from the North, the East lies far away from the West.' This notwithstanding, our race, which is heedless and presumptuous enough to fail to prepare in advance, and when it is still time, against foreign domination, always has the belated courage of rebelling when the yoke is actually placed upon its neck. The provinces that have been subjugated by the Romans, break out in resolute rebellion; these are smothered in their own blood. Our disasters follow swiftly upon one another. The Burgundians, incited thereto by the descendants of the old kings, take up arms against the Frank-Compté and invoke the aid of the Romans. The Frank-Compté, unable to make head against such an alliance, requests reinforcements from the Germans of the other side of the Rhine. Thus these barbarians of the North are taught the road to Gaul, and after bloody battles with the very people who invited them, remain masters of both Burgundy and Frank-Compté. Last year, the Swiss, encouraged by the example of the Germans, make an irruption into the Gallic provinces that had been conquered by the Romans. Thereupon, Julius Cæsar is appointed proconsul; he hastens from Italy; owerthrows the Swiss in their mountains; drives the Germans out of Burgundy and Frank-Compté; takes possession of these provinces, now exhausted by their long struggles with the barbarians; and to the yoke of these now succeeds that of the Romans. It was a change of masters. And finally, at the beginning of this year a portion of Gaul shakes off its lethargy and scents the dangers that threatens the still independent provinces. Brave patriots, wanting neither Romans nor Germans for their masters—Galba among the Gauls of Belgium, Boddig-nat among the Gauls of Flanders—induce the people to rise in mass against Cæsar. The Gauls of Vermandois and those of Artois also rise in rebellion. Together they all march against the Romans! Oh, it was a great and terrible battle, that battle of the Sambre!" cried the unknown traveler with exaltation. "The Gallic army awaited Cæsar on the left bank of the river. Three times did the Roman army cross, and three times was it compelled to recrossit, fighting up to their waists in the blood-reddened waters. The Roman is overthrown, the oldest legions are shattered. Cæsar alights from his horse, swings his sword, rallies his last cohorts of veterans, that already were yielding ground, and at their head charges upon our army. Despite Cæsar's courage the battle was lost to him, when we saw a fresh body arrive to his aid."
"You say 'We saw'?" asked Joel. "Were you at that terrible battle?"
But the unknown visitor proceeded without answering: "Exhausted, decimated by a seven hours' fight, we still held out against the fresh troops ... we fought to the bitter end ... we fought unto death.... And do you know," added the stranger with an expression of profound grief, "do you know, you who remained peacefully at home, while your brothers were dying for the liberty of Gaul, which is also yours,—do you know how many survived of the sixty thousand men in the Gallic army—in that battle of the Sambre?...Not five hundred!"
"Not five hundred!" cried Joel as if questioning the figures.
"I say so because I am one of the survivors," answered the stranger proudly.
"Then the two fresh scars on your face—"
"I received them at the battle of the Sambre—"
"WAR! WAR! WAR!"
A furious barking of dogs in the yard and a distinct noise of hard rapping at the gate of the palisade interrupted the stranger's narrative. Still laboring under the painful impression of the traveler's words, the family of the brenn for a moment imagined their homestead was being attacked. The women rose precipitately, the little ones rushed to their mothers' arms, the men ran for their arms that hung from the walls. But the dogs soon ceased barking, although the rapping at the gate continued unabated. Joel said to his family:
"Although they are still rapping, the dogs do not bark. They must know who is at the gate."
Saying this, the brenn stepped out. Several of his kinsmen, the stranger included, followed him out of prudence. The yard gate was opened and two voices were heard outside the palisades crying:
"It is we, friends, ... Albinik and Mikael."
Indeed the two sons of the brenn were distinguished by the light of the torches, and behind them their horses, panting for breath and white with foam. After tenderly embracing his sons, especially the mariner, who was absent over a year on his sea journeys, Joel entered the house with them, where they were received with joy and not a little surprise by their mother and other relatives.
Albinik the mariner and Mikael the armorer were, like their father and their brother, men of large and robust stature. Over their clothes they carried a caped cloak of heavy woolen fabric streaming with the rain. Upon entering the house, and even before embracing their mother, the new arrivals stepped to thealtar and approached their lips to the seven small twigs of mistletoe that stood dipped in the copper bowl on the large stone. They there noticed a lifeless body covered with oak branches, near which Julyan still sat.
"Good evening, Julyan," said Mikael. "Who is dead?"
"It is Armel; I killed him this evening in a sword contest," answered Julyan; "but as we have both pledged brotherhood to each other, I shall join him to-morrow beyond. If you wish it I shall mention you to him."
"Yes, yes. Julyan; I loved Armel and expected to find him alive. In the bag on my horse I have a little harpoon head of iron that I forged for him; I shall place it to-morrow on the pyre of you two—"
"And you must tell Armel," added the mariner smiling, "that he went away too soon; his friends Albinik and Meroë would have told him their last experience at sea."
"It is Armel and myself," replied Julyan with a smile, "who will later have pretty stories to tell you. Your sea trips will be like nothing to the travels that await us in those marvelous worlds that none has seen and all will see."
After Margarid's two sons had answered the tender inquiries of their mother and family, the brenn said to the unknown traveler:
"Friend, these are my two sons."
"May it please heaven that the suddenness of their arrival may not be caused by some evil event," answered the traveler.
"I say so, too, my children," rejoined Joel. "What has happened that you come at so late an hour and in such hurry? Happy be your return, Albinik, but I did not expect it so soon. But where is the gentle Meroë?"
"I left her at Vannes, father. This is what has happened. I returned from Spain by the gulf of Gascony on the way to England. The bad weather forced us to put in at Vannes. But by Teutates, who presides over all journeys by land andsea, here on earth and beyond, I did not expect—no, I did not expect to see what I saw in that town. I, therefore, left my vessel in port in charge of my sailors with my wife as their chief, I took a horse and galloped to Auray. There I gave the news to Mikael, and we hastened hither to forewarn you, father."
"And what is it you saw at Vannes?"
"What did I see? All the inhabitants, in revolt, full of indignation and rage, like the brave Bretons that they are!"
"And what is the reason of it all, children?" asked Mamm' Margarid without leaving her distaff.
"Four Roman officers, without any other escort than four soldiers and as calmly insolent as if they were in some enslaved country, came in yesterday and commanded the magistrates of the town to issue orders to all the neighboring tribes to send to Vannes ten thousand bags of wheat—"
"And what else?" asked Joel laughing and shrugging his shoulders.
"Five thousand bags of oats."
"And what else?"
"Five hundred barrels of hydromel."
"Of course," said the brenn laughing louder, "they must also drink—and what else?"
"A thousand heads of beef."
"And, of course, the fattest—What else?"
"Five thousand sheep."
"That's right. One soon gets tired of beef only. Is that all, my boy?"
"They also demanded three hundred horses to furnish new equipages to the Roman cavalry, besides two hundred wagons of forage."
"And why not? The poor horses must be fed," continued Joel sneeringly. "But there must be some more orders. If they begin to issue orders, why stop at all?"
"The provisions were to be taken in wagons as far as Poitou and Touraine."
"And what is the wide maw that is to swallow up those bags of wheat, those muttons, those heads of beef and those barrels of hydromel?"
"Above all," added the traveler, "who is to pay for all those provisions?"
"Pay for them!" replied Albinik. "Why, nobody. It is a forced impost."
"Ha! Ha!" laughed Joel.
"And the wide maw that is to gulp up the provisions is none other than the Roman army, which is wintering in Touraine and Anjou."
A shudder of rage mixed with disdain ran through the family of the brenn. "Well, Joel," the unknown traveler remarked, "do you still think that it is a long way from Touraine to Britanny? The distance does not seem to me long, seeing that the officers of Cæsar come calmly and without escort, empty-pursed and swinging high their canes, to provision their army here."
Joel no longer laughed; he dropped his head and remained silent.
"Our guest is right," put in Albinik; "these Romans came empty-pursed and swinging high their canes. One of them even raised his cane over old Ronan, the oldest magistrate of Vannes, who, like you, father, objected strongly to the Roman exaction."
"And yet, children, what else can we do but laugh at these demands. To levy these provisionings upon us and the neighboring tribes of Vannes; to force us to carry the requisitions to Touraine and Anjou with our oxen and horses which the Romans will surely keep also, and all that at the very season of the late sowing and of our autumn labors; to ruin next year's harvest;—why, that is to reduce us to living upon the grass that would have fed the cattle that they rob us of!"
"Yes," said Mikael the armorer; "they want to take away our wheat and our cattle, and leave the grass to us. By the iron of the lance that I was forging this very morning, it shall be the Romans who, under our blows, will bite the grass on our fields!"
"Vannes is now preparing to defend herself if attacked," added the mariner. "They have begun to throw up trenches in the neighborhood of the port. All our sailors are to be armed, and if the Roman galleys attack us by sea, never will the sea crows have had a like feast of corpses upon our beach."
"While crossing to-night the other tribes," resumed Mikael, "we spread the news and sounded the alarm. The magistrates of Vannes have also sent out messengers in all direction ordering that fires be lighted from hill to hill, and thereby give immediate notice of the imminent danger from one end of Britanny to the other."
Without once dropping her distaff, Mamm' Margarid had listened to the report given by her sons. When they stopped speaking she calmly said:
"As to those Roman officers, my sons, were they not sent back to their army—after a thorough caning?"
"No, mother; they were lodged in jail at Vannes, all except two of their soldiers whom the magistrates charged to declare to the Roman general that no provisions whatever were to be furnished him, and that his officers were to be as hostages."
"It would have been better to give the officers a thorough caning and drive them in disgrace out of the town," replied Mamm' Margarid. "That is the way thieves are treated, and these Romans tried to rob us."
"You are right, Margarid," said Joel; "they came to rob us—to starve us! to carry away our harvests and our cattle!" And Joel, now in a towering rage, added: "By the vengeance of Hesus! To think of their taking our fine turn-out of six young oxen with skins slick as wolves! Our four yokes of black bullsthat have such a beautiful white star in the center of their foreheads!"
"And our beautiful white heifers with yellow heads!" said Mamm' Margarid shrugging her shoulders and never quitting her distaff, "our sheep whose fleece is so nice and thick.... Come, a good caning for these Romans!"
"And the powerful horses of the stock of your magnificent stallion Tom-Bras," put in the traveler. "They will, after all, have to draw your harvest to Touraine, and will then serve to replace the worn-out horses of the Roman cavalry.... True, to them, the labor will not be excessive ... because you will now probably discover that it is not far from Touraine to Britanny."
"Well may you mock, friend," said Joel. "You were right, and I confess myself to have been wrong. Oh! If only the provinces of Gaul had from the start confederated themselves against the first assault of the Romans! If united they had put forth but one-half the efforts that they put forth separately—we would not now be exposed to the insolent demands and to the threats of these heathens! Well may you mock!"
"No, Joel, I will mock no longer," gravely answered the traveler. "The danger is near; the hostile camp lies only a twelve day's march from here; the refusal of the magistrates of Vannes and the imprisonment of the Roman officers—all that means speedy war—a merciless war, as only the Romans know how to wage! If we are vanquished it means to us death on the battle field, or slavery far away! The slave merchants follow the tracks of the Roman army; they are greedy after prey. Whatever survives, whether whole or wounded—men, young women, girls, children—all are sold at auction like cattle for the benefit of the vanquisher, and are forthwith consigned by the thousands to Italy or to Southern Gaul where the Romans are settled! Arrived at their destination, the male slaves of robust frame are often forced to fight ferocious animals in thecircus for the amusement of their masters; the young women and girls, even the children are subjected to monstrous debaucheries. Such is war with the Romans if vanquished!" cried the stranger. "Will you allow yourselves to be vanquished? Will you submit to such disgrace? Will you deliver to them your wives, your sisters, your daughters and children, ye Gauls of Britanny?"
Hardly had the traveler uttered these words when the whole family of Joel—men, women, young girls, children—all down to the dwarfy Stumpy, rose to their feet and with their eyes shooting fire, their cheeks inflamed, cried tumultuously, waving their arms:
"War! War! War!"
Joel's large battle mastiff, fired by these cries, rose on his hind legs and laid his fore-paws on the breast of his master, who, while caressing his enormous head said:
"Yes, old Deber-Trud, like our tribe you will hunt the Romans.... The quarry shall be for you.... Your jaws shall be red with blood!... Wow! Wow, Deber-Trud! At the Romans! At the Romans!"
Hearing the well-known war-cry, the mastiff responded with furious barks, displaying fangs as redoubtable as a lion's. Hearing Deber-Trud, the outside watch-dogs, as well as those locked up in the kennels, answered him. Frightful was the war-cry raised by the pack.
"A good omen, friend Joel," observed the traveler. "Your dogs bark death to the enemy."
"Yes, yes; death to the enemy!" cried the brenn. "Thanks be to the gods, in our Breton Gaul, on the day of peril, the watch-dog becomes a war-dog! the draw-horse becomes a war-horse! the ox of the field a war-ox! the harvest carts chariots of war! the laborer a warrior! even our peaceful and fruitful earth turns to war and devours the stranger! at every step he finds a grave in our fathomless marshes, and his vessels vanish in thewhirlpools of our bays which are more terrible in their calm than in the tempest of their fury!"
"Joel," now said Julyan, who had left the body of his friend, "I promised Armel to meet him to-morrow yonder—Such a death would be pleasant to me.... To die fighting the Romans is a duty.... What shall I do?"
"Ask to-morrow one of the druids of Karnak."
"And our sister Hena," said Albinik the mariner to his mother. "It is nearly a year I have not seen her.... She is surely still the pearl of the Isle of Sen? My wife Meroë charged me to remember her to Hena."
"You will see her to-morrow," answered Mamm' Margarid; and laying down her distaff she arose. It was the signal for the family to retire. Mamm' Margarid looked around and said:
"Let us retire, my children; it is late; to-morrow at break of day we must begin our war preparations;" and turning to the traveler:
"May the gods grant you a good rest and pleasant dreams!"
FAREWELL!
Agreeable to his promise, Joel pushed off his boat early the next morning, accompanied by his son Albinik the mariner, and took the unknown traveler to the island of Kellor, seeing he did not dare to land at the sacred precincts of the Isle of Sen. The brenn's guest said a few words in a low voice to the ewagh who mounts perpetual guard in the island's house. He seemed to be struck with respect and answered that Talyessin, the oldest of the living druids, who then was at the Isle of Sen together with his wife Auria, expected a traveler since the previous evening.
Before leaving Joel, the stranger said to his host: "I hope neither you nor your family will forget your resolution of yesterday. This day a call to arms will resound from one end of Breton Gaul to the other."
"You may rest assured that I and the rest of my tribe will be the first to respond to the call."
"I believe you. The issue now is whether Gaul shall fall into slavery or shall rise again to the height of her one-time power and glory."
"But should I not, at this moment when I am to leave you, know the name of the brave man who sat at my hearth? The name of the wise man who speaks with so much soundness and loves his country so warmly?"
"Joel, my name shall be 'Soldier' so long as Gaul is not free; and if we ever meet again, I shall call myself 'Your Friend,' seeing that I am that."
Saying these words the unknown traveler stepped into the ewagh's boat that was to take him from Kellor to the Isle ofSen. Before the boat, which was under charge of the ewagh, put off, Joel asked the latter whether he would be permitted to wait at the house for his daughter Hena, who was to come on that day to visit the family. The ewagh informed him that his daughter would not start for the shore until evening. Sorry at not being able to take Hena with him, the brenn re-entered his boat and returned alone with Albinik.
Towards noon, Julyan went to consult the druids of the forest of Karnak upon whether he should take the immediate and voluntary death which would be a pleasure to him, seeing he was to rejoin Armel, or seek death in battle against the Romans. The druids answered him that having sworn to Armel upon his brotherhood faith to die with him, he should be faithful to his promise, and that the ewaghs would bring the body of Armel with the usual ceremonies in order to place it upon the pyre where Julyan would find his place at moon-rise. Happy at being able so soon to join his friend, Julyan was about to leave Karnak, when he saw the stranger, who had been the guest of Joel and who now returned from the Isle of Sen, approaching through the forest in the company of Talyessin. The latter said a few words to the other druids, who forthwith surrounded the traveler with great eagerness and marks of respect. The younger ones of the druids received him as a brother, the elder ones as a son.
Recognizing Julyan, the traveler said to him:
"As you are to return to the brenn of the tribe, wait a little; I shall give you a letter for him."
Julyan yielded to the wish of the stranger, who withdrew accompanied by Talyessin and other druids. He returned shortly and handed to Julyan a little scroll of yellow tanned skin, saying:
"This is for Joel.... This evening, Julyan, when the moon rises we shall see each other again.... Hesus loves those who, like you, are brave and faithful in their friendship."
Upon arriving at the brenn's house, Julyan learned that the former was on the field gathering in the wheat. He went after him and delivered to Joel the writing sent by the stranger. It said:
"Friend Joel, in the name of Gaul now in danger, this is what the druids expect of you: Command all the members of your family who are at work on the fields to cry out to those of the tribe working not far from them: The mistletoe and the new year!Let every man, woman and child, all without exception, meet this evening in the forest of Karnak at the rise of the moon.Let those of the tribe who will have heard these words in turn repeat them aloud to those of the other tribes who may also be at work on the fields, so that the call being repeated from mouth to mouth, from one to another, from village to village, from town to town, from Vannes to Auray, notify all the tribes to convene this evening at the forest of Karnak."
Joel did as ordered by the stranger in the name of the druids of Karnak. The call was carried from mouth to mouth, from the nearest to the most distant tribes; all were notified to meet that evening in the forest of Karnak when the moon rose.
While some of the brenn's family were hurriedly gathering in the wheat harvest that still remained heaped on the fields, in order to deposit a portion of it in cellars that the laborers were digging on dry ground, the women, the girls and even the children, all working under the direction of Margarid, were as busily engaged disposing of salted meats into baskets, flour into bags, hydromel and wine into pouches; others were filling coffers with lint and balsam for wounds; others were adjusting broad and strong tent cloths over the chariots. In all wars considered dangerous, the tribes threatened by the enemy, instead of waiting for, usually went out to meet him. The houses were abandoned; the field oxen were hitched to the war-chariots, all of which contained the women, the children, the clothes and the provisions of the combatants. The horses, ridden by the full grownmen of the tribe, constituted the cavalry. The young men, being more agile, went on foot as an armed escort. The grain was hidden away; the cattle, let loose, pastured where they pleased and returned instinctively every evening to their usual stables. Generally, the wolves and bears devoured a part. The fields remained untended and scarcity followed. Often the combatants who went to war in defence of their country, encouraged by the presence of their wives and children, and having nothing to expect from the enemy but disgrace, slavery or death, drove back the invader beyond their frontiers, and returned home to repair the disasters of the fields.
Knowing that his daughter was due at the house, Joel returned home towards sun-down. He also expected to be able to take a hand in the preparations for the war.
Hena, the virgin of the Isle of Sen, soon arrived. When her father, mother and other relatives saw her enter it seemed to them never before had she been so beautiful. Never before did her father feel so proud of his daughter. The long black tunic that she wore was held around her waist by a brass belt, from which, on one side, hung a little gold sickle, and on the other a crescent in the shape of the waning moon. Hena had dressed herself with special care in honor of the celebration of her birthday. A necklace and gold bracelets inlaid with garnets ornamented her arms and neck, whiter than the driven snow. When she took off her caped cloak it was noticed that she wore, as ever at religious ceremonies, a crown of green oak leaves on her blonde hair, plaited in braids over her chaste and mild forehead. The blue of the sea, when lying calmly under a clear sky, was not purer than the blue of Hena's eyes.
The brenn stretched out his arms to his daughter. She ran into them joyously and offered him her forehead, as she also did her mother. The children of the family loved Hena dearly and contested with each other the privilege of being the first to kiss her hands—sought with greed by all the little innocentmouths. Even old Deber-Trud gamboled and barked with joy at the arrival of his young mistress.
Albinik the mariner was the first to whom Hena offered her forehead to kiss after her father and mother; she had not seen her brother for a long time. Next came the turn of Guilhern and Mikael and then the swarm of children, whom, stooping to them, Hena, sought to hold all together in one embrace. The young priestess then tenderly greeted Henory, her brother Guilhern's wife, and expressed her regret at not seeing Albinik's wife Meroë. Nor were the other relatives forgotten; all, down to Stumpy, otherwise everyone's butt, had a kind word from her.
The general exchange of greetings being over, and happy at finding herself among her own, in the house where she was born eighteen years before, Hena sat down at her mother's feet on the same stool that she used to occupy when a child. When she saw her child seated at her feet, Mamm' Margarid called the maid's attention to the disorder that reigned in the house due to the preparations for war, and she said sadly:
"We should have celebrated this day of your birth with joy and tranquility, dear child! Instead, you now find confusion and alarm in our house that soon will be deserted.... War threatens."
"Mother is right," answered Hena sighing; "Great is the anger of Hesus."
"And what say you, dear child, you who are a saint," inquired Joel, "a saint of the Isle of Sen? What must we do to appease the wrath of the All-Powerful?"
"My father and mother honor me too much by calling me a saint," answered the young virgin. "Like the druids, myself and my female companions have meditated all night under the shadows of the sacred oak-trees at the hour of moon rise. We search for the simplest and divinest principles, and seek to spread them among our fellow-beings. We adore the All-Powerfulin His works, from the mighty oak that is sacred to Him, down to the humble moss that grows on the rocks of our isle; from the stars, whose eternal course we study, down to the insect that is born and dies in one day; from the sourceless sea, down to the streamlet of water that glides under the grass. We search for the cure of diseases that cause pain, and we glorify those among our fathers and mothers who have shed lustre upon Gaul. By the knowledge of the auguries and the study of the past, we seek to foresee the future to the end of enlightening those who are less clear-sighted than ourselves. Finally, like the druids, we teach childhood, we inspire the child with an ardent love of our common and beloved fatherland—so threatened to-day by the wrath of Hesus, a wrath that comes down upon them because they have forgotten thatthey are all the children of the same God, and that a brother must resent the wound inflicted upon his brother."
"The stranger who was our guest and whom this morning I took to the Isle of Sen," replied the brenn, "spoke to us as you do, dear daughter."
"My father and mother may listen as sacred words to the words of the Chief of the Hundred Valleys. Hesus and love for Gaul inspire him. He is brave among the bravest."
"He! Is he the Chief of the Hundred Valleys?" exclaimed Joel. "He refused to give me his name! Do you know it, daughter? Do you know which is his native province?"
"He was impatiently waited for yesterday evening at the Isle of Sen by the venerable Talyessin. As to his name, all that I am free to say to my father and mother is that the day on which our country should be subjugated will also be the day when the Chief of the Hundred Valleys will see the last drop of his blood flow from his veins. May the wrath of Hesus spare us that disastrous day!"
"Oh, my daughter, if Hesus is angry, how are we to appease him?"
"By obeying the law. He has said—all men are the childrenof one God. By offering to him human sacrifices.... May those that are to be offered to-night calm his wrath."
"The sacrifices of to-night?" asked the brenn; "which are they?"
"Do not my father and mother know that to-night, when the moon rises, there will be three human sacrifices at the stones of the forest of Karnak?"
"We know," answered Joel, "that all the tribes have been convened to appear this evening at the forest of Karnak. But who are the people that are to be sacrificed and will be pleasing to Hesus, dear daughter?"
"First of all Daoulas the murderer: he killed Houarne without a fight and in his sleep. The druids have sentenced him to die this evening. The blood of a cowardly murderer is an expiation agreeable to Hesus."
"And the second sacrifice?"
"Our relative Julyan wishes, out of friendship, to rejoin Armel, whom he loyally killed in a contest. This evening, glorified by the chant of the bards, he will go, agreeable to his vow, and join Armel in the unknown worlds. The blood of a brave man, voluntarily offered to Hesus, is agreeable to him."
"And the third sacrifice, dear child?" asked Mamm' Margarid; "Who is it?"
Hena did not answer. She dropped her blonde and charming head upon the knees of Margarid, remained a while in a revery, kissed her mother's hands and said to her with a sweet smile that brought back old remembrances:
"How often did not little Hena, when still a child, fall asleep of an evening on your knees, mother, while you spun at your distaff, and when all of you now present, except Albinik, were gathered at the hearth, narrating the virile virtues of our mothers and our fathers of old!"
"It is true, dear daughter," answered Margarid caressingly passing her hand over the blonde hair of her child; "it is true. And here among us we all loved you so much for your good heartand your infantine grace, that when we saw you had fallen asleep on my knees, we all spoke in a low voice not to awake you."
Stumpy, who was among the crowd of relatives, put in:
"But who is that third human sacrifice, that is to appease Hesus and deliver us from war? Who, Hena, is the third to be sacrificed this evening?"
"I shall tell you, Stumpy, when I shall have had a little time to meditate upon the past," answered the young maid dreamily, without leaving her mother's knees; and passing her hand over her forehead as if to refreshen her memory, she looked around, pointed to the stone where stood the copper bowl with the seven twigs of mistletoe and proceeded saying:
"When I was twelve, do my father and mother remember how happy I was at having been selected by the female druids of the Isle of Sen to receive in a veil of linen, whitened in the dew of night, the mistletoe which the druids cut with a gold sickle at the moment when the moon shed its clearest light? Do my father and mother remember how, bringing home the mistletoe to sanctify our home, I was taken hither by the ewaghs in a chariot decked with flowers and greens while the bards sang the glory of Hesus? What tender embraces did not my whole family lavish upon me at my return! What a feast it was in our tribe!"
"Dear, dear daughter," said Margarid pressing Hena's head against her maternal breast, "if the female druids chose you to receive the sacred mistletoe in a linen veil, it was because your soul was as pure as the veil."
"It was because little Hena was the bravest of all her companions, she almost perished in the attempt to save Janed, the daughter of Wor, who, as she was gathering shells on the rocks along the shore of Glen'-Hek, fell into the water and was being carried away by the waves," said Mikael the armorer, tenderly contemplating his sister.
"It was because, beyond all others, little Hena was sweet,patient and kind to the children; it was because, when only twelve, she instructed them like at matron at the cottage of the female druids of the Isle of Sen," said Guilhern in his turn.
The daughter of Joel blushed with modesty at the words of her mother and brothers; but Stumpy insisted:
"But who is that third human sacrifice that is to appease Hesus and deliver us from war? Who is it, Hena, who is it to be sacrificed this evening?"
"I shall tell you, Stumpy," answered the young maid rising; "I shall tell you after I have once more looked at the dear little chamber where I used to sleep when, having grown unto maidenhood, I came here from the Isle of Sen to attend our family feasts." And stepping towards the door of the chamber, she stopped for a moment at the threshold and said:
"What sweet nights have I spent there after retiring for the evening, regretful of leaving you! With what impatience did I not rise in the morning to meet you again!"
Taking two steps into the little chamber, while her family felt ever more astonished at hearing Hena, still so young, thus dwell upon the past, the young maid proceeded, taking up several articles that lay upon a little table:
"This is the sea-shell necklace that I entertained myself making in the evening sitting beside my mother.... These are the little dried twigs that resemble trees, and that I gathered from our rocks.... This is the net which I used when the tide was going out to catch little fishes with; how the sport used to amuse me!... There are the rolls of white skin on which, every time I came here, I recorded my joy at meeting my relatives and again seeing the house of my birth.... I find everything in its place. I am glad of having gathered these young girl's treasures."
Stumpy, however, whom these mementoes did not seem to affect, again repeated in his sour and impatient voice:
"But who is to be the third human sacrifice that is to appeaseHesus and deliver us from war? Who, Hena, is to be sacrificed this evening?"
"I shall let you know, Stumpy," answered Hena smiling. "I shall let you know after I shall have distributed my little treasures among you all,—you among them, Stumpy."
Saying this, the daughter of the brenn motioned to her relatives to enter the chamber, and in the midst of the silent astonishment of all she gave a souvenir to each. Each, even of the little ones who loved her so much and also Stumpy received something. In order to make her gifts reach around, she loosened the sea-shell necklace and split up the dry twigs, saying in her sweet voice to each:
"Keep this, I pray you, out of friendship for Hena, your relative and friend."
Joel, his wife and his three children, to all of whom Hena had not yet given aught, looked at one another all the more astonished at what she did, seeing that towards the end tears appeared in her eyes although the young maid gave no other token of sadness. When all the others were supplied, Hena took from her neck the garnet necklace that she wore and said to Margarid while kissing her hand:
"Hena prays her mother to keep this out of love for her."
She then took the little rolls of white skin that had been prepared for writing on, handed them to Joel and kissing his hand said:
"Hena prays her father to keep this roll out of love for her; he will there find her most cherished thoughts."
Detaching thereupon from her arm her two garnet bracelets, Hena said to the wife of her brother Guilhern, the laborer:
"Hena prays her sister Henory to wear this bracelet out of love for her."
And giving the other bracelet to her brother the mariner she said:
"Your wife, Meroë, whom I love as much for her courage asfor her noble heart, is to keep this bracelet as a souvenir from me."
Hena then took from her copper belt the little gold sickle and crescent that hung from it. She tendered the former to Guilhern the laborer, the second to Albinik the mariner, and taking a ring from her finger she gave it to Mikael the armorer, saying to the three:
"I wish my brothers to preserve these keepsakes out of love for their sister Hena."
All those present remained astonished and holding in their hands the gifts that the virgin of the Isle of Sen had delivered to them. They all remained standing and so speechless with astonishment that none could utter a word, but looked uneasily at one another as if threatened by some unknown disaster. Hena finally turned to Stumpy:
"Stumpy," said she, "I shall now let you know who is to be the third sacrifice of this evening;" and taking the hands of Joel and Margarid she gently led them back into the large hall, whither all the others followed. Arrived there, Hena addressed her parents and assembled relatives:
"My father and mother know that the blood of a cowardly murderer is an expiatory offering to Hesus, and that it might appease him—"
"Yes—you told us so, dear daughter."
"They also know that the blood of a brave man who dies in pledge of friendship is a valorous offering to Hesus, and that it might appease him."
"Yes—you told us so, dear daughter."
"Finally, my father and mother know that the most acceptable of all offerings to Hesus and most likely to appease him is the innocent blood of a virgin, happy and proud at the thought of offering her blood to Hesus, and of doing so voluntarily—voluntarily—in the hope that that all-powerful god may deliver our beloved fatherland, this dear and sacred fatherland of ourfathers, from foreign oppression!... Thus the innocent blood of a virgin will flow this evening to appease the wrath of Hesus."
"And her name?" asked Stumpy, "the name of that virgin who is to deliver us from war!"
Hena looked towards her father and mother with tenderness and serenity and said:
"The virgin who is to die is one of the nine female druids of the Isle of Sen. Her name is Hena. She is the daughter of Margarid and Joel, the brenn of the tribe of Karnak!"
Deep silence fell upon the family of Joel. None, not one present, expected to see Hena travel so soon yonder. None, not one present, neither her father, nor her mother, nor her brothers, nor any of her other relatives, was prepared for the farewells of the sudden journey.
The children joined their little hands and said weeping:
"What!... Leave us so soon?... Our Hena?... Why do you journey away?"
The father and mother looked at each other and sighed.
Margarid said to Hena: "Joel and Margarid believed that they would have to wait for their dear daughter in those unknown worlds, where we continue to live and where we meet again those whom we have loved here.... But it is to be otherwise. It is Hena who will precede us."
"And perhaps," said the brenn, "our sweet and dear daughter will not long have to wait for us—"
"May her blood, innocent and pure as a lamb's, appease the wrath of Hesus!" added Margarid; "May we soon be able to follow our dear daughter and inform her that Gaul is delivered from the stranger."
"And the remembrance of the valiant sacrifice of our daughter shall be kept alive in our race," said the father; "so long as the descendants of Joel, the brenn of the tribe of Karnak, shall live they will be proud to number among their ancestors Hena, the virgin of the Isle of Sen."
The young maid made no answer. Her eyes wandered with sweet avidity from one relative to the other as, at the moment of undertaking a journey, the departing one takes a last look at the beloved beings from whom he is to be separated for a while.
Pointing through the open door at the moon that, now at her fullest, was seen across the evening mist rising large-orbed and ruddy like a burning disk, Stumpy cried:
"Hena!... Hena! The moon is rising above the horizon...."
"You are right, Stumpy; this is the hour," she said, unwillingly taking her eyes from the faces of her beloved family. An instant later she added:
"Let my father and mother and all the members of my family accompany me to the sacred stones of the forest of Karnak.... The hour of the sacrifice has come."
Walking between Joel and Margarid, and followed by all the members of the tribe, Hena walked serenely to the forest of Karnak.
THE FOREST OF KARNAK.
The call for assembling that was issued to the tribes at noon, had run from mouth to mouth, from village to village, from town to town. It was heard all over Breton Gaul. Towards evening the tribes proceeded en masse—men, women and children—to the forest of Karnak, the same as Joel and his family.
The moon, at her fullest on that night, shone radiant amid the stars in the firmament. After having marched through the dark and the lighted spots of the forest, the assembling multitude finally arrived at the shores of the sea. The sacred stones of Karnak rose there in nine long avenues. They are sacred stones! They are the gigantic pillars of a temple that has the sky for its vault.
In the measure that the tribes drew nearer to the place, their solemnity deepened.
At the extremity of the avenue, the three stones of the sacrificial altar were ranged in a semi-circle, close to the shore. Behind the mass of people rose the deep and brooding forest, before them extended the boundless sea, above them spread the starry firmament.
The tribes did not step beyond the last avenue of Karnak. They left a wide space between themselves and the altar. The large crowd remained silent.
At the feet of the sacrificial stones rose three pyres.
The center one, the largest of the three, was ornamented with long white veils striped with purple; it was also ornamented with ash, oak and birch-tree branches, arranged in mystical order.
The pyre to the right was somewhat less high, but was also ornamented with green branches besides sheafs of wheat. On it lay the body of Armel, who had been killed in loyal combat. It was almost hidden under green and fruit-bearing boughs.
The left pyre was surmounted with a hollow bunch of twisted osiers bearing the resemblance of a human body of gigantic stature.
The sound of cymbals and harps was presently heard from the distance.
The male and female druids, together with the virgins of the Isle of Sen were approaching the sacrificial place.
At the head of the procession marched the bards, dressed in long white tunics that were held around their waists by brass belts; their temples were wreathed in oak leaves; they sang while playing upon their harps: "God, Gaul and her heroes."
They were followed by the ewaghs charged with the sacrifices, and carrying torches and axes; they led in their midst and in chains Daoulas, the murderer who was to be executed.
Behind these marched the druids themselves, clad in their purple-striped white robes, and their temples also wreathed in oak leaves. In their midst was Julyan, happy and proud; Julyan who was glad to leave this world in order to rejoin his friend Armel, and journey in his company over the unknown worlds.
Finally came the married female druids, clad in white tunics with gold belts, and the nine virgins of the Isle of Sen, clad in their black tunics, their belts of brass, their arms bare, their green chaplets and their gold harps. Hena walked at the head of the latter. Her eyes looked for her father, her mother and her relatives—Joel, Margarid and their family had been placed in the front rank of the crowd—they soon recognized their daughter; their hearts went out to her.
The druids ranked themselves beside the sacrificial stones. The bards ceased chanting. One of the ewaghs than said to thecrowd, that all who wished to be remembered to people whom they had loved and who were no longer here, could deposit their letters and offering on the pyres.
A large number of relatives and friends of those who had long been traveling yonder, thereupon piously approached the pyres, and deposited letters, flowers and other souvenirs that were to re-appear in the other worlds, the same as the souls of the bodies that were about to dissolve in brilliant flames, were to re-appear in a new body.
Nobody, however, not one single person, deposited aught on the pyre of the murderer. As proud and joyful as Julyan was, Daoulas was crestfallen and frightened. Julyan had everything to hope for from the continuance of a life that had been uniformly pure and just. The murderer had everything to fear from the continuance of a life that was stained with crime. After all the offerings for the departed ones were deposited on the pyres, a profound silence followed.
The ewaghs led Daoulas in chains to the osier effigy. Despite the pitiful cries of the condemned man, he was pinioned and placed at the foot of the pyre, and the ewaghs remained near him, axes in hand.
Talyessin, the oldest of all the druids, an old man with long white beard, made a sign to one of the bards, who thereupon struck his three-stringed harp and intonated the following chant, after pointing to the murderer:
"This man is of the tribe of Morlech. He killed Houarne of the same tribe. Did he kill him, like a brave man face to face with equal weapons? No, Daoulas killed Houarne like a coward. At the noon hour, Houarne was asleep under a tree. Daoulas approached him on tiptoe, axe in hand and killed his victim with one blow. Little Erick of the same tribe, who happened to be in a near-by tree picking fruit, saw the murder and him who committed it. On the evening of the same day the ewaghs seized Daoulas in his tribe. Brought before the druidsof Karnak and confronted by Erick, he confessed his crime. Whereupon the oldest of the druids said:
"'In the name of Hesus,He who is because he is, in the name of Teutates, who presides over journeys in this world and in the others, hear: The expiatory blood of the murderer is agreeable to Hesus.... You are about to be born again in other worlds. Your new life will be terrible, because you were cruel and cowardly.... You will die to be re-born in still greater wretchedness forever and ever through all eternity.... Become, on the contrary, from the moment that you are re-born, brave and good, despite the sufferings that you will endure and you will then die happy, to be re-born yonder, thus forever and ever, through all eternity!!!'"
The bard then addressed himself to the murderer, who emitted fearful cries of terror.
Thus spoke the venerable druid: "Daoulas, you are about to die ... and to meet your victim....He is waiting for you, he is waiting for you!"
When the bard pronounced these words, a shudder went through the assembled crowd. The fearful thought of meeting in the next world alive him who was killed in this made them all tremble.
The bard proceeded, turning towards the pyre:
"Daoulas, you are about to die! It is a glorious thing to see the face of a brave and just person at the moment when he or she voluntarily quits this world for some sacred cause. They love, at the moment of their departure to see the tender looks of farewell of their parents and friends. Cowards like yourself, Daoulas, are unworthy of taking a last look at the just. Hence, Daoulas, you will die and burn hidden in that envelop of osier, the effigy of a man, as you have become since the commission of the murder."
And the bard cried:
"In the name of Hesus! In the name of Teutates! Glory, glory to the brave! Shame, shame on the coward!"
All the bards struck upon their harps and their cymbals, and cried in chorus:
"Glory, glory to the brave! Shame, shame on the coward!"
An ewagh then took up a sacred knife, cut off the murderer's life and cast his body inside of the huge osier effigy of a man. The pyre was set on fire. The harps and cymbals struck up in chorus, and all the tribes repeated aloud the last words of the bard:
"Shame on the coward!"
Soon the murderer's pyre was a raging mass of flame, within which was seen for a moment the effigy of a man like a giant on fire. The flames lighted the tops of the oaks of the forest, the colossal stones of Karnak, and even the vast expanse of the sea, while the moon inundated the space with its divine light. A few minutes later there was nothing left but a heap of ashes where the pyre of Daoulas had stood.
Julyan was then seen ascending with radiant mien the pyre where lay the body of Armel, his friend—his pledged brother. Julyan had on his holiday clothes: a blouse of fine material striped white and blue, held around his waist by an embroidered leather belt, from which hung his knife. His caped cloak of brown wool was held by a brooch over his left shoulder. An oak crown decked his manly head. He held in his hand a nosegay of vervain. He looked serene and bold. Hardly had he ascended the pyre, when again the harps and cymbals struck up, and the bard chanted:
"Who is this? He is a brave man! It is Julyan the laborer; Julyan of the family of Joel, the brenn of the tribe of Karnak! He fears the gods, and all love him. He is good, he is industrious, he is brave. He killed Armel not in hate but in a contest, in loyal combat, buckler on arm, sword in hand, like a true Breton Gaul, who loves to display his bravery and does not fear death. Armel having departed, Julyan, who had pledged brotherhood to him, wishes to depart also and join his friend. Glory to Julyan, faithful to the teachings of the druids. He knowsthat the creatures of the All-Powerful never die, and his pure and noble blood Julyan now offers up to Hesus. Glory, hope and happiness to Julyan! He has been good, just and brave. He will be re-born still happier, still juster, still braver, and ever onward, from world to world, Julyan will be re-born, his soul being ever re-incarnated in a new body the same as the body that here puts on new clothes."
"Oh, Gauls! Ye proud souls, to whom death does not exist! Come, come! Remove your eyes from this earth; rise to the sublimity of heaven. See, see at your feet the abyss of space, dotted by these myriads of mortals as are all of us, and whom Teutates guides incessantly from the world that they have lived in towards the world that they are next to inhabit. Oh, what unknown worlds and marvelous we shall journey through, with our friends and our relatives that have preceded us, and with those whom we shall precede!"
"No, we are not mortals! Our infinite lives are numbered by myriads and myriads of centuries, just as are numbered by myriads of myriads the stars in the firmament—mysterious worlds, ever different, ever new, that we are successively to inhabit."
"Let those fear death who, faithful to the false gods of the Greeks, the Romans and the Jews, believe that man lives only once, and that after that, stripped of his body, the happy or unhappy soul remains eternally in the same hell or the same paradise! Aye! They are bound to fear death who believe that when man quits this life he findsimmobility in eternity."
"We Gauls have the right knowledge of God. We hold the secret of death.Man is immortal both in body and soul.Our destiny from world to world is to see and learn, to the end that at each of these journeys, if we have led wicked and impure lives, we may purify ourselves and become better—still better if we have been just and good; and that thus, from new birth to new birth man rises incessantly towards perfection as endless as his life!"
"Happy, therefore, are the brave who voluntarily leave this world for other regions where they will ever see new and marvelous sights in the company of those whom they have loved! Happy, therefore, happy the brave Julyan! He is about to meet again with his friend, and with him see and knowwhat none of us has yet seen or known, and what all of us shall see and know! Happy Julyan! Glory, glory to Julyan!"