THE RESCUE.
The prisoners in theergastulahad drawn as close as possible to the iron railing. Little Odille, who had fallen asleep on the knees of the bishopess, awoke with a start, saying:
"Ronan, are they coming to take us to the place of execution? I am ready for everything."
"No, little Odille! it is barely midnight; I know not what may be happening at the burg; all the Franks who were watching us left their posts before our prison and followed one of their men who came after them; all ran towards the burg brandishing their arms."
"Ronan, my brother, listen in the direction of the seigniorial mansion—it seems to me I hear an odd noise proceeding from that direction."
"I hear tumultuous cries—the clash of arms."
"Ronan, the Vagres must have come to our deliverance, the burg is on fire!"
"The fire spreads—look—look—it is as clear as day in front of the prison."
"A man is running this way—why, it is Karadeucq, our father!"
"Loysik! Ronan! Oh! my sons."
"You here, father?"
"Ronan, Loysik, all of you within, join me to break down the iron railing."
"Alas! we cannot budge—our feet are all sore—we have been put to the torture!"
"To see my two sons and yet not to be able to save them—malediction! This way, Master of the Hounds! my brave fellow, this way—let us free my sons!"
"My beautiful bishopess, are you there? Come, give me a kiss across the railing!—Your lips have pressed mine. I now feel stronger. We two, Karadeucq, will have to tear down this railing. I have set fire to the four corners of the burg—stables, barns, lofts, all is aflame. The count's main building that is now full of Franks, who are mutually slaying one another, and which is built of frame, has also taken fire; it is beginning to burn like a faggot stuck into a furnace."
"Woe is us! it is impossible to break down the railing!"
"Free us, father!"
"Oh, my sons, I shall die of rage before I fall under the axe of the Franks, if I cannot set you free."
"Come, old Karadeucq, one more effort; the Franks who guarded theergastulaare now thinking of nothing else but to extinguish the fire; let us dig a hole under the railing with our poniards, with our nails."
"The Franks! There they are—they are coming back to theergastula; they are running this way."
"I can see their weapons glistening by the light of the conflagration."
"Father, there is no hope left! You are lost! Blood and death, lost! And here we are, sore and incapable to defend you!"
About a score of men at arms and several leudes ran with their arms in the direction of theergastula; one of them was heard to say: "A part of these dogs of slaves are profiting by the fire in order to revolt; I heard them say that they were going to set the chief of the Vagres and the rest of the prisoners free. Quick, quick, let us put them all to death—we shall afterwards see to the slaves. Who has the key to the railing?"
At the very moment when Sigefrid was handing the key to the Frankish warrior his eyes fell upon Karadeucq.
"What are you doing there, old vagabond?"
"Noble youth, frightened by the fire, my bear has escaped; I am running after him—he has crouched down yonder not far from the railing. Alas, what a misfortune this fire is!"
"Sigefrid, I have unlocked the railing," said one of the Franks; "shall we begin with the men or the women?"
"I shall begin with the men!" cried Karadeucq, planting his dagger in the breast of Sigefrid.
"I also!" cried the Master of the Hounds, stabbing another one of the Franks.
"Vagrery! Vagrery! To us, all brave slaves! Death to the Franks! War upon the seigneurs! Liberty to the slaves! Long live all Gaul!"
"The Vagres!" cried the thunder-struck Franks, dumbfounded at the death of the two leudes. "The Vagres! These demons seem to rise from underground and from the depth of hell!"
"This way!" cried Ronan in a thundering voice. "This way, my Vagres! Kill the Franks!"
The cry was addressed to the Vagres, whom Ronan saw pouring in. Attracted by the light of the conflagration, the signal that was agreed upon, the good, brave Vagres had crossed the fosse; but how? Was not that fosse filled with such deep slime that a man would be swallowed up in it if he attempted to cross it? Certainly, but Ronan's Vagres had, since nightfall, been prowling like wolves around a sheep fold, and carefully sounded the fosse; after which the clever lads hewed down with their axes two large ash trees that stood straight as arrows nearby, stripped off the flexible branches and with them bound the trunks closely together. The long and light improvised bridge was thrown across the fosse, and nimble as cats they crept one after another over the two trunks and reachedthe opposite side. During the aerial perilous passage two of the Vagres fell off and immediately disappeared in the bottom of the fosse; they were Wolve's-Tooth and Symphorien, the rhetorician—may their names live and be blessed in Vagrery! Their companions had no sooner arrived on the other side of the fosse, than they met, running towards theergastulato liberate the prisoners, about thirty revolted slaves armed with clubs, scythes and forks. After the warriors of Chram and those of Neroweg had long fought in the dark in the banquet hall, they suddenly dropped their quarrel, and leaving the dead and wounded on the field of battle, gave no thought but to the fire—the men of the count to extinguish it, the men of Chram to save the horses and baggage of their master and take them out of the burning stable. The Franks who had hastened to theergastulain order to put the prisoners to death were only a score at the most; they were surrounded and cut to pieces by Ronan's Vagres and by the slaves, after offering a desperate resistance. Not one of these Franks escaped; no, not one! Two of the slaves took Ronan upon their shoulders, two others raised Loysik on theirs, and at the request of his bishopess the Master of the Hounds took up little Odille in his vigorous arms as one might raise a child from its cradle, the young girl being too weak to walk. Old Karadeucq followed his two sons.
The struggle that took place in front of theergastulaand which was crowned with triumph for the Vagres consumed less time than it takes to describe it; but there was still much to be done in order to leave the fortified enclosure of the burg. It was necessary to reach the bridge, the only practicable issue, by reason of Ronan, Loysik and Odille, all of whom were unable to walk. It was necessary in order to reach the bridge to follow the inside wall of the embankment under the trees that lined one side of the parade ground; and the parade ground itself, wholly exposed and in plain view of the burning buildings had then to be crossed. Wise and prudent in counsel, oldKaradeucq made the troop halt where it was screened by the trees from the eyes of the enemy, and said to them:
"To attempt to leave the burg in a body would be to invite being slain to the last man. The moment we are seen, some of the Franks in their fury will stop trying to extinguish the fire and will fall upon us. There is only one chance of escape. The moment we reach the open ground, which you must traverse, let us separate and mix up boldly among the frightened Franks, who are seeking to save all they can from the flames. Let us throw ourselves in among the frightened crowd and seem to be engaged in some work of salvage, going, coming, running hither and thither. We shall thus be able to clear the dangerous passage and shall separately reach the bridge—our generalrendezvous."
"But, father, carried as we are by these good slaves, how could Loysik and I avoid being detected?"
"That matters not; the slaves will be thought to be transporting some wounded men taken from the ruins; conceal your faces somehow and moan as loud as you can. As to the Master of the Hounds, who has prudently stripped himself of his bear skin, he can boldly run through the crowd carrying the little slave in his arms as if he had saved some young girl from the flames in the women's apartment. The bishopess can wrap herself up in the coat of the Master of the Hounds; she will have no difficulty in safely crossing the crowd in the midst of the general tumult."
The wise advice of the father of Loysik and Ronan was carried out successfully from point to point.
By the faith of a Vagre, beautiful was the spectacle of the vast Frankish burg enveloped in and consumed by the flames! At every turn were heard roofs tumbling in with a crash and throwing upward toward the starry vault of heaven large jets of flame and sparks of fire. The northern wind, blowing fresh and strong, drove towards the south large sheets of flame thatsurged, like the waves of an angry sea, over the crumbling buildings below. At the moment when, carried on the shoulders of the two slaves, Ronan passed before the seigniorial mansion, which was entirely built of frame and shingled with oaken laths, he saw the flaming roof, which had for some little time been supported by large charred beams, fall in with the rattle of thunder and dash itself against the foundation of volcanic rocks. Nothing remained standing of the count's once proud residence but a few huge beams, whose blackened and smoking sides were brought out into strong relief by the curtain of fire before which they seemed to tremble. The casques and the cuirasses of the leudes of Chram were seen glistening in the light of the conflagration; they were running hither and thither in a joint effort with the men of Neroweg to save the horses and mules from the burning stables.
What an infernal tumult, and how sweet to the ear of a Gaul! By the bones of our fathers the music and the sight were magnificent! The neighing of horses, the bellowing of cattle, the imprecations of the Franks, the cries of the wounded leudes whom the flaming ruins burned, or rolled down upon and crushed! And what a beautiful illumination lighted the tableau—a ruddy flamboyant light!
The two sons of old Karadeucq whom the slaves were carrying on their backs, as well as little Odille, in the arms of the Master of the Hounds, finally crossed the bridge over the fosse, closely preceded and followed by all the Vagres and the revolted slaves who joined them. They had all successfully threaded their way through the crowds of scurrying Franks around the burning buildings. After the troop of Karadeucq was safely on the other side a vigorous shove threw the keeper off the bridge down into the fosse, in the bottom of which he disappeared.
"Are we all outside of the enclosure of the burg?" asked old Karadeucq.
"Yes, all—all!"
"Now let us cut down the bridge; I have broken down the chains that hold it on the other side; if the Franks take it into their heads to pursue us we shall have a long lead over them. Once we reach the forest, then, good bye Franks! Long live the Vagrery and old Gaul! Oh, my sons, you are now free from danger! Ronan, Loysik, one more embrace, my sons!"
"By the sacred joy of this father and his two sons, beautiful bishopess, you are my wife. I shall not leave you unto death!"
"Loysik, you said to me this very night in the prison, 'Fulvia, if you were free to-day and met the Master of the Hounds, also free, what would you answer if he asked you to be his wife?' Being now free," added the bishopess turning towards the Vagre, "I shall be your devoted wife and a true mother if God should grant us children."
"And you, little Odille, you have neither father nor mother left, will you have Ronan for husband, if you survive your wounds?"
"Ronan, even if I were dead, the hope of being your wife would raise me from my grave!"
COUNT AND VAGRE.
With Loysik and Ronan on the shoulders of their companions and little Odille in the arms of the Master of the Hounds, the Vagres and the revolted slaves hastened to reach the forest. The rear of the fleeing troop was brought up by four Vagres, panting for breath and bent down by a heavy bundle that they carried between them. It was a large coarse cloth wound around a gagged and firmly bound man, whose head was additionally wrapped in a jacket.
"Who is that man, my brave Master of the Hounds? Do you know?" asked Ronan.
"It is Count Neroweg, whom your father dexterously kidnapped from the very midst of the leudes with the aid of two of his comrades."
"Neroweg in our power! In the power of Ronan, Loysik and Karadeucq, the descendants of Schanvoch! Heaven and earth!"
"Hello, old Karadeucq, come this way—Ronan will not believe that we kidnapped the Frankish wild-boar."
"Yes, my sons, that fellow whose head is concealed in a jacket, and whom our men are carrying, is Neroweg—it is my share of the booty."
"It is your share, Karadeucq—but we, the count's former slaves, demand to have his skin and bones."
"What a pity that we have not the bishop also—the feast would be complete."
"The Lion of Poitiers killed the bishop."
"Father, are you sure that infamous bishop is dead?"
"Yes—I saw him fall under the sword of the Lion of Poitiers. The blow almost clove him in two."
"But how did you manage to capture Neroweg?"
"I kept my eyes upon you and Loysik from a distance, as you were carried towards the bridge by our Vagres who shouted: 'Room there, room for the wounded leudes whom we have saved from the ruins.' Mixing in, together with three other of our men, among the distracted crowd of leudes and loyal slaves, who were running about helter skelter, I suddenly saw the count running all alone at a distance, and carrying in his arms with great difficulty two heavy skin bags, probably filled with gold and silver; he was running towards a dry well. Neroweg was at that moment alone and a considerable distance away from the burning buildings. The thought struck me to seize the man. Together with two of our men I crept behind the bushes around the cistern into which the count threw one of the bags, fearing, no doubt, that their contents might be stolen from him in the general turmoil. The three of us fell upon him unawares, and threw him down; I planted both my knees upon his chest and both my hands over his mouth to keep him from crying out for help; one of our men took off his jacket, gagged Neroweg and wrapped the jacket over the Frank's head, while our other companion tied his feet, legs and arms firmly, took a large piece of rough cloth that lay near and wound it around the seigneur count. The bridge lay not far away; we could see it from where we stood—and that is the way in which I captured my booty. We are now far enough away from the burg; the count's voice could not be heard there. Remove the jacket from his head and the gag from his mouth. Hurrah for the Vagrery!"
As soon as Neroweg was uncovered and ungagged Karadeucq said to him:
"Count, your hands will remain bound, but I shall now free your legs. Will you walk to the forest with us?"
"You mean to kill me there! Let us walk, accursed mountebank, you will see how a Frank marches with a firm step to death—you Gallic dogs, race of slaves!"
The outskirt of the forest was reached at the peep of dawn—a flitting moment in the month of June. At the distance a ruddy glamour was seen struggling against the approaching light of day—it was the conflagration that still raged over the ruins of the burg.
Ronan and the hermit-laborer were laid upon the grass, with little Odille seated beside them. On her knees near the young girl, the bishopess tended her wounds. The Vagres and the revolted slaves stood in a circle around. Neroweg stood pinioned, but savage and resolute of countenance—those barbarians and thieves, however cowardly in their vengeance, are, it must be admitted even by us, their enemies, endowed with a certain savage bravery—he cast an intrepid look at the Vagres. Old Karadeucq, who had preserved his vigor, looked youthed by fully twenty years. The joy of having saved his sons and of having Neroweg in his power seemed to impart new life to him. His eyes sparkled, his cheeks were aflame, he contemplated the count with greedy looks.
"We shall be revenged," said Ronan, "you will be revenged, little Odille."
"Ronan, I ask no vengeance for myself; in our prison I often said to the good hermit-laborer: 'If ever I should be free again, I shall not return evil for evil.' "
"Yes, sweet child—as sweet as pardon. But you need not fear, our father will not kill that man unarmed," answered Loysik.
"Will he not kill him, brother? Aye, by the devil! Our father will kill the Frank as sure as he put us both to the torture, and that he beat and violated this poor child! Blood and massacre, no mercy!"
"No, Ronan, our father will not kill a defenseless man."
"You are long about killing me!" put in the captured count. "What are you waiting for! And you, accursed mountebank, the chief of these bandits, why do you look at me in that way in silence?"
"Because, Neroweg, in contemplating you as I do, I am thinking of the past. I am conjuring up family recollections in which one of your ancestors, the Terrible Eagle, is mixed."
"He was a great chief," answered the Frank proudly; "he was a great King, one of the bravest warriors of my lineage. His name is still glorified in Germany—my shame remains hidden at the bottom of my grave—if you dig a grave for me, cursed dogs!"
"It happened more than three hundred years ago; a great battle was delivered on the banks of the Rhine between the Gauls and the Franks. One of my ancestors fought with yours—the Terrible Eagle. It was a desperate struggle; it was not merely a fight between soldier and soldier, it was a conflict between two races that were fated foes! My ancestor had a presentiment that the stock of Neroweg would be fatal to ours, and he sought to kill him in order to extinguish his family. Fate willed it otherwise. Alas, my ancestor's forebodings did not deceive him. This is the second time that our two families meet across the ages. You had my two sons put to the torture, and to-day they were to be executed upon your orders. Now you are in my power; you are about to die, and your stock will be extinct."
A flash of joy lighted the Frank's eyes, and he answered with a firm voice: "Kill me!"
"My Vagres, this man belongs to me—it is my part of the booty."
"He is yours, old Karadeucq—you may dispose of him at your pleasure. Say the word and we will strike him down dead."
"I wish him to be unbound; I wish him to have the full use of his limbs—but make a strong circle around us two, so that he can not run away."
"Here we are—a strong circle of swords' points, axes, pikes and sharp scythes—he will not be able to break through."
"A priest!" suddenly cried the count in accents of anguish. "I do not wish to die without the assistance of a priest! Will you assist me, hermit-laborer?"
"Father," cried Loysik, "do not kill this man in that manner!"
"I do not ask you for my life, Gallic dogs! Slaves! But I do not wish to go to hell! I ask the absolution of a priest!"
"Take this axe, Count Neroweg; we shall be equally armed; the combat between us is to be to the death."
"Father, in the name of your two sons, whom you have just saved, desist from this combat."
"My sons, this axe does not weigh heavy in my hands—I shall extinguish in this Frank the stock of the Nerowegs."
"I, a man of an illustrious family, do battle with a beggar, a Vagre, a revolted slave! No! I shall not bestow such an honor upon you, bastard dog—you may slay me."
"Seize him, and shave his head smooth like a slave. Shame upon the coward!"
"I, shaved like a vile slave! I, undergo such an outrage! I prefer to do battle with you, vile bandit; give me the axe!"
"Here it is, count. And you, my brave Vagres, widen the circle—and long live Gaul!"
Neroweg precipitated himself upon the Vagre; the combat was engaged; it was frightful, stubborn. Loysik, Ronan, little Odille and the bishopess followed trembling and with anxious eyes the events of the struggle. It did not last long. Karadeucq spoke truly. The axe did not weigh heavy in his vigorous hand; it swung in the air and fell with a crash upon the forehead of Neroweg, who rolled down upon the grass with his skull cleaved in twain.
"Die!" cried Karadeucq with a triumphant air. "The stock of the Terrible Eagle will no longer pursue the stock of Joel!"
"You lie, Gallic dog! My stock is not extinct. I have a son of my second wife at Soissons—and my present wife, Godegisele, is with child. My stock will live!"
And with a feeble voice, the dying man added:
"Hermit laborer, give me paradise—my good Bishop Cautin, have pity upon me! Oh, I am going to hell! to hell! the demons!"
And Neroweg expired, his face contracted in diabolical terror.
Missing the count, his leudes must have concluded that he lay buried under the smoldering ruins; some feared that the revolted slaves captured and took him with them. If they searched for him, they must have found the count's body at the outskirts of the forest, with his skull cleaved in twain by an axe blow, and stretched out at the foot of a tree, with the outward bark ripped off and on the bare trunk of which the following words were engraved with the point of a dagger:
"Karadeucq, the Vagre, a descendant of the Gaul Joel, the brenn of the tribe of Karnak, killed this Frankish count, a descendant of Neroweg, the Terrible Eagle. Long live Gaul."
GHILDE.
AT THE HEARTH OF JOEL.
Two years have passed since the death of Count Neroweg. We are now in winter; the wind moans, the snow falls. It was on the day following a similar night that, nearly fifty years ago, Karadeucq, the grandson of old Araim left the paternal roof, under which the following narrative takes place, in order to run the Bagaudy, seduced thereto by a peddler's story.
Old Araim died long ago, never ceasing to sorrow over the loss of Karadeucq, his pet. Jocelyn and Madalen, Karadeucq's father and mother also are dead. His elder brother Kervan and his sweet sister Roselyk still live and inhabit the same homestead situated near the sacred stones of Karnak. Kervan is over sixty years of age; he married late; his son, now fifteen years of age, is called Yvon. The blonde Roselyk, sister of Kervan, is nearly as old as her brother; her hair has turned white; she has remained single and lives with her brother and his wife Martha.
It is night; out of doors the wind blows and the snow falls.
Kervan, his sister, his wife, his son and several of their relatives, who cultivate with them the identical fields that more than six hundred years ago Joel cultivated with his family, are engaged near the fireplace at several household tasks, the favorite pastimes during the long nights of winter. A violent gust of wind blows open the door and several windows. Kervan remarks to his sister:
"Good Roselyk, it was on such a night as this, many long years ago, that a cursed peddler came to our door. Do you remember the incident?"
"Alas, I do! The next morning our poor brother Karadeucqleft us forever. His disappearance gave so much pain to our grandfather Araim that he died of a broken heart, and shortly after we lost our mother, who was almost crazed with grief. Our father Jocelyn alone withstood the bereavement. Oh, our brother Karadeucq was but too heavily punished for wishing to see the Korrigans!"
"The Korrigans, aunt Roselyk!" cried Yvon, Kervan's son. "The little fairies of olden times, of which good old Gildas, the shearer of the sheep, often talks? They have not been seen in this country for a long time, neither the Korrigans nor the other little dwarfs, called Dus."
"Fortunately, my boy, the country is now free from those evil sprites—but for them your uncle Karadeucq might now be in our midst by the fireplace."
"And did you never hear from him, father?"
"Never, my son! He surely died in one of those civil wars, those disasters that continue to rend old Gaul under the reign of the descendants of Clovis."
"May our Brittany be ever spared the ills that so cruelly afflict the other provinces!"
"Our old Armorica has until now been able to preserve her independence and repel all attempts at invasion from the Franks. Why should we be any less able to hold our own in the future? The chiefs of our tribes, whom we choose ourselves, are brave. The chief of the chiefs whom these have chosen, old Kando, and who keeps watch at our frontiers, is an intrepid and experienced man. Did we not triumphantly repel all the attacks of the Franks until now?"
"And already three times have you been called to take up arms, Kervan, and were forced to leave me, together with your sister Roselyk and our son Yvon, in mortal fear," exclaimed Martha, Kervan's wife.
"Come, come, you poor timid Gallic woman. Remember our family legends—Margarid, Joel's wife; Meroë, the wife ofAlbinik the mariner; Ellen, the wife of Schanvoch—did they ever exhibit such weakness when their husbands took the field to fight for the freedom of Gaul?"
"Alas, no! And Margarid as well as Meroë met death on the battlefield, together with their husbands."
"While I have been only once wounded in battle against the accursed Franks, whom we cut to pieces on our frontier."
"But you seem, brother, to forget all about the danger that you ran during the last vintage. That was an odd vintage! It had to be garnered with the sword on the side and the axe ready in hand."
"Nonsense! Those were mere pleasure parties. We sallied forth gaily, and went beyond our own borders to harvest the crops of grapes that the Franks make their slaves raise in the region of Nantes. By the beard of Joel! He would have laughed a hearty laugh at the sight of our troops recrossing our frontier gaily escorting our large carts full of red grapes! What a pleasing sight! The yokes of our oxen, the bridles of the horses and even the iron of our lances were festooned with green vine leaves. And we marched to the rhythmic measure of the chant that we sang in chorus:
" 'The Franks, they shall not drink it,This wine of our old Gaul—No, the Franks, they shall not drink it!We make our vintage, sword and pruning-hook in hand.Our chariots, used in war, are our rolling presses.It is not blood that crimsons deep their axle-trees,It is the purple juice of ruddy grapes.The Franks, they shall not drink it,This wine of our old Gaul—No, the Franks, they shall not drink it!' "
"Father, I shall be sixteen years old next vintage in the country of Nantes—will you not take me with you?"
"Keep still, Yvon! Make not such requests. They frighten me," cried the boy's mother.
"Roselyk, dear sister, do not my wife's words remind you of our mother scolding our brother Karadeucq because he wished to see the Korrigans? She used to say: 'Hold your tongue, bad boy!' "
"Alas, brother, all mothers' hearts are alike."
"Father, I hear steps outside—it must be old Gildas. He promised to come this evening and teach us a new chant that he learned from a traveling tailor. Yes, it is he! Good evening, old Gildas!"
"Good evening, my boy; good evening to all."
"Shut the door, old Gildas. The air is cold; come near the fire."
"Kervan, I am not alone. A stranger accompanies me. He knocked at my door and asked for the house where Kervan, the son of Jocelyn, dwells. The traveler comes from Vannes, and even further. He wishes to see you."
"Why does he not step in?"
"He is shaking off the snow that covers him from head to foot."
"Good God, Gildas! Is the man a peddler?"
"Roselyk, Roselyk, does not that also sound like mother? You are right, all mothers' hearts are alike."
"No, Martha; the young man does not look like a peddler to me. Judging by his resolute mien, he would sooner be taken for a soldier. He carries a long dagger in his belt—here he is himself."
"Step in, traveler. Did you ask for the dwelling of Kervan, the son of Jocelyn? Do you wish to see Kervan? I am Kervan."
"Greeting to you and yours, Kervan. But why do you look at me so wonderingly?"
"Roselyk, look well at this young man—look at his eyes, his forehead, his bearing, his face."
"Oh, brother, one sees strange resemblances at times. Onewould think that our brother Karadeucq himself stood before us—that is how he looked at the time that he ran away."
"Roselyk, do you not notice that the stranger seems strangely affected? There are tears in his eyes. Say, young man, are you the son of Karadeucq?"
The answer of Ronan the Vagre was to throw himself on the neck of his father's brother, after which he embraced no less effusively Martha, Roselyk and Yvon. After the tears were dried and the first emotion appeased, the first words that simultaneously parted from the lips of Kervan and Roselyk were:
"And our brother, our beloved Karadeucq? What tidings do you bring us from him?"
At this question Ronan the Vagre remained silent; his head drooped and tears again suffused his eyes.
Deep silence reigned hereat among the descendants of Joel. All eyes wept.
Kervan was the first to overcome his grief, and broke the silence, addressing his nephew:
"Is it long since my brother Karadeucq died?"
"Three months, dear uncle."
"Was his end peaceful? Did he remember me and Roselyk, who loved him so dearly?"
"His last words were: 'I die without having been able to fulfill my part of the duty imposed by my ancestor Joel upon his descendants. Promise me, my son Ronan, you who are familiar with my own life and that of your brother Loysik, to fulfill that duty in my stead, and to write down, without concealing aught, both the good and the evil that we have done. When you have done that, promise me that you will proceed to the cradle of our family, near the sacred stones of Karnak. My father Jocelyn and my mother Madalen are certainly dead by this time. You shall deliver the narrative that will have been written, either to my good brother Kervan, if he survives our aged parents, or to his eldest son. If Kervan should have died withoutposterity, ask his heirs or his wife's to deliver to you, obedient to the orders of our ancestor Joel, our family's legends and relics, and you are then to transmit them to your descendants. If, however, my brother Kervan and my sweet sister Roselyk still live, tell them that I die with their names upon my lips and dear to my heart.' Such were the last words uttered by my father."
"And have you the account of your own and my brother's lives?"
"Here it is," answered Ronan opening his traveling bag.
And he drew from it a parchment which he handed over to Kervan. The latter took the scroll with deep emotion, while, taking from his belt the long poniard with an iron hilt that Loysik and after him the Master of the Hounds had worn, and on the hilt of which were engraven the Saxon wordGhildeand the two Gallic wordsFriendship,Community, Ronan passed the weapon to his uncle, saying:
"It was my father's wish that this poniard be added to our family relics. When you will have read this narrative you will admit that the weapon deserves being placed together with the other articles that our ancestors have bequeathed to us—pious relics, that I must ask you to show me and which I shall contemplate with veneration. It is now getting late. I must leave you again day after to-morrow morning. I must, therefore, request you to read this very evening the narrative that I have delivered to you. I shall relate to you to-morrow what remains to be said and that I have not had the time to write down. I, on my part, have a strong wish to read our family chronicles, the principal incidents of which my father often narrated to me."
"Come," said Kervan taking up a lamp.
Ronan followed him. The two stepped into one of the chambers of the house. On a table lay a small iron coffer, the gift of Victoria the Great to Schanvoch. Kervan took from thecoffer the gold sickle of Hena, the Virgin of the Isle of Sen, the little brass bell left by Guilhern, Sylvest's iron collar, Genevieve's silver cross and the casque's lark of Victoria the Great. He deposited all these articles near the poniard of Loysik. Kervan also produced from the little coffer the several family parchments, ranked them in order before Ronan, and then rejoined his family.
That long winter's night was spent by the Vagre reading the legends of his family.
On their part, Kervan, his wife and sister prolonged their reading until it was almost dawn. Contrary to their wont, they did not rise with the day. With the impressions of his family history fresh upon his mind, Ronan visited next morning the environs of the house. He found at every step mementos of his ancestors—the wide field on which his ancestor and his two sons, Guilhern and Mikael, indulged in the virile exercises of themahrek-ha-droadstill spread before his eyes; the living spring, at the edge of which Sylvest and Syomara had in their infantine games built their little hut to protect themselves from the heat of the sun, still babbled along its course.
The Vagre was drawn from his revery by the voice of his father's brother.
"Ronan," said Kervan, "the frost has hardened the ground and the cattle can not be let out to-day. We shall have wheat to pound in the house. Let us go in. While we are at work you can narrate to us the events that complete your narrative. I promise you that I shall faithfully transcribe them and append them to the narrative that you wrote."
ON THE HILL NEAR MARCIGNY.
The family of Kervan are reassembled together with Ronan in the large hall of the farmhouse. After the morning repast the women take up their distaffs, or some other domestic work. The men pound the wheat, which they pour out of one set of large bags and then drop into another. Huge logs of beech and oak burn in the fireplace, seeing that outside the cold is intense. While each pursues his work in silence they cast from time to time inquisitive looks at Ronan, the Vagre son of the Bagauder.
"Uncle," says Ronan, "did you read through the narrative that I gave you yesterday?"
"Yes, and all the rest of us here assembled heard it read. But there is no mention made of my poor brother's death."
"Before broaching that subject, uncle, I should inform you of what happened after the burning down of the burg of Neroweg.
"The complete success of our raid threw the Franks and bishops of the region into consternation. All the slaves who were not too besotted, the colonists whom the seigneurs rack-rented, in short, a considerable number of determined men joined our band. From day to day its numbers swelled and it became more redoubtable. With good or evil grace the seigneurs felt themselves forced to improve the condition of their slaves.
"My brother Loysik proved himself faithful to the principle of Jesus of Nazareth that it is the sick who stand in special need of a physician. He remained with us, and soon he had adecided ascendency over our troop. His good-heartedness, his courage, his eloquence, his love for Gaul, his horror of the Frankish conquest gained him all hearts. One day he took it into his head to undertake a journey the destination of which he kept a secret. Shortly after that we had letters from him urging us to draw near to the confines of Burgundy; he was to join us in the neighborhood of Marcigny, a town situated at the extreme end of that province. Before his departure he made us promise that we would set no more burgs and episcopal villas on fire; pillage, however, continued unabated and was distributed among the poor. Thus we administered strict justice upon the Frankish seigneurs, the bishops and abbots who enjoyed a reputation for cruelty."
"But did not the Franks take up arms against you? Were they terrified to that extreme?"
"King Clotaire ordered a levy of men, but the beneficiary seigneurs feared that, if they parted with their leudes, their burgs would remain unprotected and either at the mercy of the slaves or exposed to attacks from our band. They sent but few men in answer to the King's summons. And so we were given fresh opportunities and twice we beat the Franks in pitched encounters. All the time we drew nearer and nearer to the frontiers of Burgundy as requested by Loysik."
"And what of little Odille, Ronan? What became of her, poor, dear victim of Frankish brutality?"
"I took her to wife; the dear girl never leaves me; she is as sweet as she is brave, as devoted as she is tender."
"Dear girl—and the bishopess, who interested us all, despite her errors?"
"Fulvia has become to the Master of the Hounds what Odille is to me."
"And that Prince Chram, who was scheming a parricide, did he carry out his projected treason towards Clotaire, that other monster who stabbed his brother's son to death?"
"Three days ago, on my way hither, I saw Chram and his father on the frontier of our Armorica."
"The father and son on our frontier?"
"Aye, and they approved themselves worthy of each other. Oh, Kervan, I have run the Vagrery in my boyhood; I have witnessed frightful scenes during that period; but by the faith of a Vagre, I never was so terrified—I still shudder with horror when I think of what, only a few days ago, took place under my own eyes, when Chram and his father met.
"It was a horrible spectacle—I shall presently describe it to you, but I must first return to our own affairs. Faithful to our promise to Loysik, we drew nearer to the boundaries of Burgundy. That region, one of the first that was conquered before Clovis by other hordes of barbarians that preceded him from Germany and were called Burgunds, was full of heroic souvenirs of old Gaul. It was there that, at the voice of Vercingetorix, the Chief of the Hundred Valleys, the people first rose in arms against the Romans. Epidorix, Convictolitan, Lictavic and other patriots of that province joined with their several tribes the Chief of the Hundred Valleys, all anxious to join him in doing battle for the freedom of Gaul."
"And I suppose that once so brave region has undergone the fate of the others?"
"There, as elsewhere, Kervan, the bishops undermined the mental virility of the people, besotted them, and rendered them submissive prey to the conquerors."
"But here in our Armorican Gaul, both the Christian and the non-Christian druids preach to us the love of country and hatred for the oppressor."
"And, consequently, Brittany has remained free. It happened otherwise with the unfortunate province that I am speaking of. Since the year 355 its population began to degenerate visibly. Two chiefs of barbarian hordes, Westralph and Chnodomar, invaded the region; other barbarians, Burgunds by name,who came from the region of Mayence, in torn drove away the first invaders and established themselves at about the year 416. These Burgunds, who gave their name to the region, were a pastoral people and less savage than the other tribes that poured in from Germany. The larger number of the original inhabitants were either cut to pieces or led into slavery at the time of the first conquest in 355. Although held in slavery by the Burgunds, the lot of the surviving portion of the population was less wretched than that of their brothers in most of the other conquered provinces. Gondiok, Gondehaud and his son Sigismond succeeded one another as kings until 534. In that year, Childebert and Clotaire, sons of Clovis, fell upon the Burgunds, and, although these were of their own Germanic race, laid their country waste, enslaved both Burgunds and Gauls, and attached the territory to the domain of the Frankish kingdom."
"What devastation! What bloodshed!"
"Those were horrible times, but by the faith of a Vagre, we rendered them frightful to many a conqueror himself. Well, agreeable to the request of Loysik, we drew near the confines of Burgundy and arrived in the vicinity of Marcigny early in autumn. In that happily located region the fall of the year is as mild as summer. The sun was going down, we had been on the march almost all day; the region, once so thickly populated and teeming with wealth, now lay fallow and deserted. Some more slaves joined us, others, however, fled into Marcigny, and threw the place into alarm. We expected the return of Loysik at every moment. As a matter of precaution we camped on a woody hill whence we could observe the city, lying at a goodly distance away, and hardly protected by its crumbling walls. Towards evening we saw our brother proceeding out of the town. He hastened to us, having been notified of our arrival by the fleeing slaves. It seems to me I see him now climbing the hill; he walked hurriedly; his face beamed with happiness.After answering to the affectionate greetings of our delighted troop who surrounded him, all being eager to express to him their delight at his return, Loysik made a sign that he wished to speak. He stepped upon a mound under the overspreading branches of a chestnut tree. We gathered in a semi-circle before him; many of the women who joined us in running the Vagrery sat down at his feet on the grass. Odille and the bishopess were foremost among these. On that day Loysik wore a robe of coarse white wool; a ray of the westering sun that penetrated through the foliage above his head seemed to surround with a golden aureole his serious and sweet face, on both sides of which, parting from his slightly bald head, fell his long blonde hair of the same color as his slight beard. I know not for what reason, but as I then looked at Loysik, the young man of Nazareth occurred to me, as he preached to the vagabond crowd that ever surrounded him. Profound silence reigned among our troop. Loysik held an address to us which I shortly after transcribed in full, together with all that happened on the occasion, upon a parchment lest I should forget it."
Taking a scroll from his pocket Ronan the Vagre proceeded:
"Here it is—I shall read it textually to you:
" 'My friends, my brothers, all of you who hear me, I return to your midst with good tidings. Until now, you have, by means of frightful acts of reprisal, returned evil with evil to the Franks, the abbots and bishops. These wicked folks so willed it—violence invites violence, oppression invites revolt, iniquity invites vengeance. The threatening words of Jesus have been verified—They that take the sword, shall perish by the sword; Woe unto you, Scribes and Pharisees, for ye bind heavy burdens and grievous to be borne, and lay them on men's shoulders; but ye yourselves will not move them with one of your fingers; Woe unto you that are rich, for ye have received your consolation.To the poor who lacked the necessaries of life you gave the goods that you took from the conqueringplunderers, or from the modern princes of the Church. Struck with terror, many a hard-hearted seigneur and prelate felt forced to relax his severity. You have administered justice; but, alas, an adventurous, merciless justice. It could not be otherwise. In these days of tyranny and civil war, of slavery and revolt, of atrocious misery and criminal opulence, people are hurled from the paths of morality. The innate sense of justice and injustice, of good and evil is beclouded in the popular mind. Some, besotted with terror, undergo unheard-of ills with abject and degrading resignation; others, a prey to headlong vertigo, mix actions of greatest nobility with deeds that are most reprehensible. Your vengeance fatedly begets incalculable misfortunes. No doubt there is now many a seigneur, who, merciless until recently, does now conduct himself with less cruelty towards his slaves, as a consequence of the terror with which you inspire him. But the next day? You will then be far away, and the butchers then resume their murderous propensities. You set the homes of the conquerors on fire; but those buildings are speedily raised again, and it is our brothers, the slaves, who are forced to rebuild them. You distribute among the poor a part of the tribute that you levy upon the seigneurs and the prelates; but after a few days of abundance, misery weighs anew upon the unhappy population, and, by contrast, it is more painful than before. The coffers that you rifle must all be refilled by our brothers, the slaves, by dint of fresh and crushing labors. What floods of tears! What floods of blood are shed! How many ruins mark your tracks, how many irreparable disasters!'
"A voice cried out from the crowd: 'Have not our conquerors shed the blood of our race in torrents? Let the world perish, together with the iniquity that racks us! Death to the oppressors! Death to the seigneurs and the priests!'
"My brother then proceeded:
" 'Perish iniquity! Aye, perish slavery! Aye, perish miseryand ignorance! Like you, I hold the barbarian conquest in horror; like you, I hold subjection in horror; like you, I hold in horror the false priests of Jesus, who keep their fellowmen in bondage; like you, I hold in horror the degradation of our country. But in order to overcome barbarism, ignorance, misery and slavery, they must be combated with civilization, with intelligence, with virtue, with labor, with the awakened Gallic patriotism that lies torpid at the bottom of so many hearts!'
" 'Hermit, our friend,' the interrupter cried again, 'how else can we fight our enemies than arms in hand? Are we not "Wand'ring Men," "Wolves," "Wolves' Heads"?'
" 'What is it that has turned you into Vagres, ye men of all conditions? What is it that drove you to revolt? Is it not spoliation and misery, and a determination to be free rather than submit to slavery? If you were to be told: "Renounce your wandering lives, and your labor will supply you amply with the necessaries of life, and your courage will guarantee your safety and tranquility. You who regret having lost the joys of the hearth and of family life or who desire to partake of them—yours can be those pure delights, while you others who prefer austere seclusion can be free to indulge your bent, and you can live happy and peacefully;"—if you were to be promised that, would you not prefer it to your present life?'
" 'Hermit, are such prospects possible? You are not of the number of false priests who pretend to have the power of performing miracles.'
" 'Ah, had they only willed it, the bishops could have performed such miracles every day in the name of the human fraternity preached by Jesus. Aye, had they all acted like the bishop of Chalon, a path of pacific emancipation would have been opened to Gaul.'
" 'And what did the bishop of Chalon do?'
" 'Upon leaving you, I proceeded to yonder little town of Marcigny, which belongs to the diocese of Chalon and where thebishop owns a villa which he occupies in summer. He is not a wicked man, although he does keep his fellowmen in bondage. He has spent his days in quiet, idleness and opulence. He is a great friend of King Clotaire. I proceeded to that bishop. I shall narrate to you the conversation that took place between us:
" 'I said: "Did you ever hear about the Vagres?" "Alas, yes! Those people commit grave crimes in other regions. But, thank God, the Vagrery never entered Burgundy." "Well, bishop, I wish to inform you that bands of Vagres are approaching your diocese." "Oh, woe is me! Woe is all of us! What will become of us all? My diocese will be ravaged, my treasury pillaged, my palace in Chalon sacked, my villa burned down! Monk, what desolation!" "Bishop, is not the Valley of Charolles located in your diocese?" "It belongs to glorious King Clotaire, like all the rest of the lands of Gaul that have not been distributed as benefices either by himself, or by his father, King Clovis, to the chiefs of the leudes and the Church." "Are you not a friend of Clotaire's?" "That great King shows me a good deal of kindness." "Demand of him in my name the gift of the Valley of Charolles; I shall found there a community of monk-laborers. Around the monastery a lay colony will be established, open to the Vagres. A portion of the lands shall be reserved for the monk-laborers, the rest shall be left to the colonists. But the gift must be absolute, hereditary and free from all taxes, fees or imposts. The colonists are to be recognized as free in fact and by right, they and their descendants. Obtain the donation for me from King Clotaire, and the troop of Vagres, instead of becoming a source of terror to the region, will be a source of security to your diocese." Such was the conversation. The bishop hastened to forward my application to King Clotaire; and yesterday a royal messenger brought the King's answer. Here it is, I shall read it to you.
" 'It runs thus: "Clotaire, illustrious warrior, King of the Franks. The function and duty of a King is to come to thehelp of the servants of God and to receive their prayers favorably. Moreover, seeing that we sojourn but a short time in this life, it is important that we hasten to store up wealth in heaven. We can easily store up such wealth through generous donations to the bishops and the Church. Therefore, we receive favorably the request of our venerable father in Christ, Florent, bishop of Chalon-on-the-Saone, and we hereby inform all our loyal subjects, now and in the future, that a certain monk named Loysik has asked us through the intermediary of the said Florent, our venerable father in Christ and friend, a tract of land where he may live freely, pray and implore divine mercy for us. He has added that he is followed by a large number of men whom he wishes to withdraw from the disorders and the miseries of the century. Those men have promised to settle down near him, and to devote themselves to a peaceful and industrious life. Whereas, we consider the monk's request wise, and whereas furthermore we are of opinion that if we receive it favorably we shall be performing a work agreeable to God and meritorious for the remission of our sins, we hereby grant to the said monk the possession of the Valley of Charolles, situated in the diocese of Chalon, bounded to the north by the mountains known as the Balue Rocks; to the south by the river Charolles, an arm of which crosses the said valley; to the west by the ravine known as Goats' Forest, which is contiguous to the lands of the church of Marcigny. We cede to the said monk all that he may find on said territory—slaves, domestic animals, buildings, vines, cultivated fields, meadows and woodlands. He shall have the free use of them all, without anyone whosoever having the right to hinder him, to build or to plant. We exempt him and those who may settle with him in the said Valley of Charolles, of all contributions to our fisc. We forbid all our leudes, bishops, dukes, counts and all others to exact, either for themselves or their suites, whether moneys, presents, quarter or rents from the said monk Loysik, or from those who may settle down upon the territory that we have ceded to him, they being held and recognized by us as free men. Let no one be audacious enough to violate our commandments. We will it that the said monkLoysik, his companions and their successors live free and undisturbed under our protection. And in order that these presents shall have greater force, we have willed that they be signed by our own hand and sealed with our seal.Clotaire."
" 'As he placed this charter in my hand the bishop added: "Now, monk, make good use of this donation and prevent the Vagres from ravaging my diocese."
" 'While the bishop was saying these words to me, some fugitive slaves rushed in and announced to him the approach of your troop. The prelate thereupon said to me imploringly: "Go, run, monk, I am ready for any sacrifice in order to live in peace with those redoubtable neighbors."
" 'It now, my friends and brothers, rests with you whether you will live happy and free. Those of you who are willing to enter our community of hermit-laborers will be admitted; those who, preferring family life, may wish to join a woman of their choice shall be settled upon the hereditary lands. I have visited the valley in all its parts; a river, well stocked with fish, crosses the meadows, magnificent woods shade it, vines and cereals flourish on its slopes, the cattle on its meadows are numerous. The poor slaves who were either born upon the place or transported thither will be set free; the lands that they have hitherto cultivated for the royal fisc will henceforth be theirs as hereditary property. The valley is immense. Even if we were ten times more numerous than we are, the soil's fertility will supply our wants. The lands that King Clotaire restores to us in the form of a gift have been violently conquered more than two centuries ago by tribes of barbarians, they were subsequently invaded by the Burgunds, and finally conquered over again by the Franks. Portions of the land are not cultivated; the race that owned them more than two hundred and fifty years ago, before the invasion, has long been extinct. The people who once inhabited them have been either cut to pieces during the successive conquests or have been led far away intoslavery, or have died under the yoke working for others on their own ancestral domains—they are no more. By occupying this portion of the soil of Gaul we dispossess none of our own race. But, at an emergency, we must be able to defend the territory from aggression. In these days of civil wars, donations, however perpetual, are not always respected by the inheritors of the royal power, nor by the seigneurs and the bishops. We must, accordingly, be ready to repel force with force. The valley is protected towards the north by almost inaccessible rocky cliffs; on the south by a deep river; on the west by rugged ravines, and to the east by a dense forest. It will be an easy thing for us to fortify ourselves in our possession and maintain our rights.' "
Kervan followed closely the Vagre's narrative and asked him with deep interest whether his companions took the advice of Loysik.
"Yes, dear uncle, almost all the Vagres accepted Loysik's offer; few only preferred to continue their life of adventure. They left us with the promise, however, not to enter Burgundy. We never since heard of them. Among those who now people the Valley of Charolles, many have adopted the rules of the monk-laborers under the direction of Loysik. The large majority of our companions, however, have organized a lay community around the monastery; they married either women who ran the Vagrery with us or daughters of neighboring colonists. I wedded little Odille, while the Master of the Hounds took the bishopess for his mate. The artisans whom slavery and want had driven to the Vagrery, resumed their former occupations, and now work for the colony; others tend the fields, the vines and the cattle. As to myself, I have become a good husbandman, and my little Odille, who since her childhood was accustomed to tend flocks of sheep in the mountains where she was born has turned to that occupation. The bishopess works at the distaff, spins and weaves like a skilful housekeeper, and alsooversees the hospital which we opened for sick women. Loysik superintends the hospital of men in the monastery."
"Ah, Ronan! Why did not the bishops act like your father, seeing they did not follow the example of our venerated druids, and preach a holy war against the Franks? Why did not the Church restore to their former owners the vast domains that they find it so easy to wheedle from the credulity of the Frankish Kings and seigneurs? Or, in cases where the former owners are no more, why does not the Church distribute the land among the slaves that cultivate it?"
"Alas, the prelacy has preferred to reign over a brutified people; they did not like to live a simple life among a free people. Oh! It will be done for our old Armorica if she ever falls under the yoke of the priests!"
"May it please heaven that such a fatality may never befall our beloved region! Let us put aside such sad thoughts; let us rather talk of the peaceful and industrious life of the colony of Charolles."
"Yes, we live happy in our beloved valley, where we cultivate our fields in common and share the fruits of our labor, agreeable to the words that you saw graven on the hilt of the poniard that I delivered to you—Friendship,Community."
"But what is the meaning of that other word—Ghilde?"
"It is a Saxon word; it means association, fraternity. In the northern country where the word comes from there is a custom, the origin of which is lost in the remotest ages, according to which all the members of aghildepledge to one another with a mysterious oath friendship, mutual support and solidarity in all things. If the house of one of the associates burns down, all the others help him in rebuilding it; if his crops are destroyed by a storm or any other accident, all the associates contribute their share to indemnify him for his loss; likewise if his vessel is lost at sea. Is anyone of them afraid to undertake a long voyage alone, one, two or several of his associates accompanyhim; is any member of theghildethe victim of some iniquity, all the others take his part in order to secure justice; is he insulted, all the others rally around him to aid him in obtaining reparation or vengeance. Our community has put into practice the virtues of that custom. We say there, as once we said in Vagrery:All for each, each for all."
"And my brother Karadeucq, did he long enjoy that peaceful life after a life of so many hardships?"
"He lived happy in my house unto the day of his death, and he was able to bless my first-born child."
"Tell us the circumstances of my brother's death."
"From the written narrative that I delivered to you, you must have seen what kind of a man was Chram, the son of King Clotaire. His projects of revolt having failed in Poitou and Auvergne, he made a raid into Burgundy at the head of a few troops in the expectation of raising the country against his father. The counts and dukes of the reign considered it in their interest to take the field against Chram in this new civil war. Nevertheless, he laid part of the country waste. One of the bands of Chram arrived near our valley. Foreseeing the need thereof in these disturbed times, my father and Loysik had the unprotected accesses of the valley fortified with fosses and entrenchments made of felled trees. Our colonists and the men of the monastery took turns in mounting guard at these places the moment the invasion of Burgundy by Chram was known. My father was in command of one of the advanced posts when Chram's warriors approached our valley for the purpose of ravaging it."
"I presume an armed encounter took place between Chram's soldiers and the inhabitants of Charolles, and my poor brother Karadeucq—"
"Was mortally wounded as he drove the Franks back at the head of his men. My father died after giving me the orders that I stated to you. He wore during the combat the Saxonponiard that belonged to Loysik, and which the Master of the Hounds had picked up as he fled from the field of carnage at the fastness of Allange. The Master of the Hounds returned the poniard to my brother after our flight from the burg of Neroweg. Loysik afterwards presented the weapon to my father. He wore it on the day of the encounter with the Franks. He ordered me to bring it to you, in order that it be joined to our family relics."
"My brother's death was brave, like his life. A curse upon that Chram, son of Clotaire! Had he not raided Burgundy, my brother Karadeucq might still be alive!"
"Like you, Kervan, I say a curse upon Chram! But, at any rate, he met on the frontiers of our Brittany the merited punishment for his criminal life."
THE DEATH OF CHRAM.
"Oh, Kervan," Ronan the Vagre proceeded after a short respite, "it almost looks as if these Frankish Kings and all their family are predestined to become the subjects of horror to the whole world. I shall now narrate to you the manner of Chram's death.
"My father had made me promise him at the last moments of his life that I would repair hither, to the cradle of our family, so soon as I wrote the chronicle that I delivered to you, but which I could not finish for the reasons that I shall state.
"There is nothing more difficult or more perilous than a long journey in these disastrous days. The traveler runs at every step the risk of being captured on the road and led away a prisoner by the armed bands of the dukes, the counts, the seigneurs or the bishops who are in perpetual feuds with one another, plundering or raiding one another's domains, ever intent upon enlarging their possessions. As a consequence, whoever is compelled to undertake a journey never ventures outside of the cities except with considerable numbers, so as to be in condition to repel the armed bands. I learned that a company of travelers was to leave the city of Marcigny for Moulins. That was exactly my route. I left the valley and joined the caravan. We left Marcigny in a body of nearly three hundred persons—men, women and children—some on foot, others mounted, all bound to Moulins as the first station. At that city other travelers were expected to proceed to Bourges. At Bourges I counted upon being able to join a third body and reach Tours, andin that way to proceed upon my journey to Saumur and then to Nantes, which would bring me to the very frontier of Brittany. On the stretch between Marcigny and Tours, our troop of travelers were repeatedly compelled to drive off marauding bands of armed men. In one of these encounters I was wounded, but only slightly; but several of my traveling companions were killed, while some others were captured and carried, together with their families, into slavery. The bulk of our troop, however, myself included, were fortunate enough to arrive safely at Tours, and there to rest in security."
"What horrible days these are! It would not be any more dangerous to travel in a hostile country."
"Oh, Kervan, if you could see the ravages of the conquest! Ruins everywhere, fresh and old ones. Our former Gallic roads and highways, so beautifully wide and carefully kept, with their relays of post horses and inns, are now all wild and heaps of ruins. Communication, once so easy from one end of Gaul to the other, is now wholly broken up. In one place the road breaks off because it crosses over the domain of some Frankish seigneur or of some abbey; at another place the bridges have been broken down by some armed band, that, being closely pursued, sought to protect its retreat. Thus we were compelled to make wide detours in order to arrive at our journey's end. Several nights were spent on the open fields. We were at times compelled to fell trees near the banks of a river and build a raft to effect a crossing, there being none other practicable.
"Upon my arrival in Tours, I learned that King Clotaire was there gathering troops in order to march in person against his son Chram, who had just crossed Touraine and was moving in the direction of the frontiers of Brittany. I thought the chances favorable to finish my journey in safety. I followed in the wake of the royal troops, which consisted of leudes and soldiers, the latter of whom were furnished to the King by the beneficiary seigneurs, and also of impressed colonists. Whenthe King's army put itself in march, I followed. Alas, Kervan! The enemy's forces themselves could not have been more merciless towards the people than were the royal troops. Upon their arrival in a town the Franks would drive the residents from their houses, they would then take possession, consume the provisions, beat the men, outrage the women, and destroy everything that they could not carry with them. Clotaire joined his troops with his bodyguard at Nantes. It was there that I saw the monster for the first time. He wore a long blood-colored dalmatica embroidered in gold; over the costly vestment he had a hooded fur jacket, with the hood half drawn over his forehead. From under his coif his eyes glistened like those of a wild cat. The King's cadaverous visage was set in long locks of grey hair that reached almost to his waist. He rode a large war steed, black of coat and caparisoned in red. At his left rode his constable; at his right the bishop of Nantes.
"Being left with only a few troops, Chram had fled before the superior forces of his father. His plan was to enter Brittany. But he found Kando on guard at the frontier."
"Kando is one of the bravest and alertest warriors of Armorica."
"Accompanied by his worthy friend Spatachair—the Lion of Poitiers, the renegade Gaul of whom mention is made in the written narrative that I delivered to you, died insane—Chram proceeded to Kando's camp and proposed to him that he join his Breton troops to the Franks in order to make head against his father, Clotaire.
" 'I am always delighted to see the Franks cutting one another's throats,' Kando answered Chram; 'nevertheless the horror that your parricidal projects inspire me with is such that, although your father himself is a monster after your own kind, I refuse to enter into any alliance with you. My own troops are enough to fight Clotaire if he should take it into his head toinvade our territory, which, until now no Frank has attempted with impunity.'
"Feeling at least certain of Kando's neutrality, but nevertheless crowded into a corner at the frontier of Armorica, Chram now stood at bay and prepared for a desperate combat on the morrow. He imagined that if the worst were to befall him, his escape would in any event be certain, seeing that he had taken the precaution of keeping a vessel ready to embark in near the little port of Croisik.
"I had arrived safely at the boundary of Brittany; I cared little for the issue of the impending battle. I had met two Bretons by accident near Nantes. The two Armoricans were bound for Vannes. From that city to the sacred stones of Karnak I knew the distance was short. We three departed before sunrise on the morning of the battle that Clotaire was to deliver against his son. In order to shorten our route and also to avoid finding ourselves entangled in the pending melee, we walked to the seashore intending to proceed to the bay of Morbihan.
"We had walked a good portion of the day, and were skirting the shore in the neighborhood of the port of Croisik when we noticed a fisherman's hut raised against a projecting rock. We turned towards it, intending to rest a few hours, when, to my great astonishment I saw near the hut several traveling mules and richly caparisoned horses in charge of some slaves. Three of the animals, one of which was a palfrey, bore women's saddles."
"A strange spectacle in that solitary place. And to whom did the mounts belong?"
"To Chram. His wife and two daughters were in the hut. A boat was moored at the shore, and at a distance of about three bows' shots, a light vessel rode at anchor, ready to set sail."
"You mentioned before the means of escape that Clotaire'sson had prepared in case his troops were beaten—the vessel, I presume, waited for him and his family?"
"My two companions, as well as myself, hesitated whether or not to enter the hut, when its door opened and a richly dressed young woman stepped to the threshold; two little girls were with her. One of them, a child of about five or six years of age, clung to the folds of her mother's robe, while the latter held another girl of about twelve by the hand. The young woman looked depressed; her eyes were in tears; behind her I saw a warrior, whom I readily recognized as one of the three favorites of Chram, Imnachair, the identical warrior who witnessed the torture to which I was subjected at the burg of Neroweg."
"Were that woman and children Chram's family? It has always seemed strange to me that such monsters should at all have families."
"Those were my very thoughts, Kervan, when the young woman, noticing our traveling bags on our shoulders, asked us with marked anxiety whether we came from Nantes, and whether we had any news of a battle that must have been fought there."
" 'We can give you no information upon that, madam,' we answered her, 'we did not even know that there were any armies drawn up for battle.'
"Suddenly one of the slaves who must have been stationed on the lookout over the crest of the rock, ran towards the hut crying: 'Horsemen! We see far away, in a cloud of dust, a number of horsemen riding at full gallop in this direction!'
" 'Death and fury!' cried Imnachair stamping the ground and growing pale. 'It is Chram—the battle is lost!'
"At these words the poor young woman fell down upon her knees, clasped her two daughters to her heart, and I could hear but the moans and sobs of the mother and her children.
" 'Quick! Quick! To the boat!' shouted Imnachair. 'Slaves,unload the mules; take to the boat the cases that they carry; and you, madam, hold yourself ready to embark!"
"The precipitate tramp of galloping horses was heard approaching, also the clank of armors, and even voices, that, although confused, sounded furious.
" 'It is my husband!' cried Chram's wife, growing deadly pale. 'But his father is pursuing him! Do you not hear those cries of death?'
"Imnachair listened. 'Yes,' said he; 'it is the voice of King Clotaire! Flee, madam; flee, you and your children! Let us run to the boat—we shall soon row ourselves out of danger. It will soon be too late!'