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The Poniard's Hilt; Or, Karadeucq and Ronan. A Tale of Bagauders and Vagres
"Come, my poor Mont-Dore; courage; you will have to defend yourself well, seeing that you have to fight against two dogs for the amusement of the noble seigneurs; show yourself worthy of your race."
A wide circle was formed, lighted by the torch-bearing slaves. In the front rank of the audience stood King Chram, his three favorites, the count, the bishop and several leudes; all the others mounted the table. In the center of the circle, clad in his ample jacket, which had fortunately been left to him, stood the Vagre-bear; he preserved an intrepid countenance; he naïvely sat down on his haunches, like a bear who expects no evil, and nonchalantly held his club between his fore paws; occasionally he leaned the club against his body in order to scratch himself with a movement of graceful and easy abandon. Suddenly the hunting horns struck up their deafening uproar. Gondolf, the count's master of the hounds, stepped into the circle holding the two monstrous mastiffs by the leash. From their enormous necks a dewlap similar to that of a bull dropped down upon their chests; their large bloodshot eyes were half hidden under their long and drooping ears; black, white and yellow streaks ran over their shaggy skin which bristled up on their backs the moment they perceived the bear. Instantly they barked furiously, and dashing forward wildly they broke the leash that Gondolf still held in his hand. In two bounds they precipitated themselves upon the lover of the bishopess.
"At him, Mirff! At him, Morff!" cried the count clapping his hands. "At him! At the quarry, my wild fellows! Leave him not a shred of flesh on his bones!"
"Unless a miracle of strength and skill takes place, my companion will be torn to pieces, our strategy discovered, and the last chance of my sons' escape will be lost; if so, I shall swiftly stab both the King and the count at their hearts," said Karadeucq to himself, and as he did, his hand reached under his blouse, for the dagger that he had there hidden. His hand firmly seized it, ready for immediate use.
Seemingly unaffected by the sight of the dogs, the Vagre-bear continued to perform his role with unaltered presence of mind, bravery and skill; he made a momentary movement of surprise, but immediately backed up against the beam and held himself ready, with uplifted club, to repel the attack of the dogs. Mirff was the first to dash forward, aiming at his belly, but that very instant the Vagre-bear struck him so violent a blow over the head that the club broke in three, and Mirff dropped as if struck by thunder, and emitting terrible howls.
"Malediction!" cried the count. "There goes a mastiff that cost me three gold sous! Here, my men, have that ferocious bear immediately disemboweled with your boar spears and iron bars!"
The count's imprecations were drowned by the frantic shouts of the rest of the audience, who, themselves more disinterested than Neroweg in the course that the combat was taking, applauded the bear's valor and awaited the issue of the struggle with anxious curiosity. The Vagre-bear, now disarmed and wholly exposed, was at close quarters with the other mastiff, that, the moment the club was broken, seized his adversary in the thigh with his formidable fangs and threw him down with the impetuosity of the shock. The blood of Karadeucq's companion flowed copiously and reddened the leaves with which the floor was strewn. Twice did the bear and the dog roll over each other; at the third time, pinning to the ground with the full weight of his body the mastiff, that, like Deber-Trud, did not loosen its teeth from its enemy, the Vagre clutched the brute by the throat and held him in such a tight clutch between his vigorous hands, that the animal was strangled. During this doubly terrible struggle not only did the mastiff's bite cause the Vagre an intense pain, but he ran at every instant the risk of being cut to pieces, together with Karadeucq, if, by the slightest accident, he but betrayed himself; – the lover of the bishopess remained true to his ursine role; he emitted no sound other than a few muffled grunts. The combat being over, the worthy animal crouched down in a lump at the foot of the beam between the corpses of the two mastiffs; with his head between his fore paws he seemed patiently to lick his bleeding wound, while Chram, his favorites and several even of the count's leudes vociferously acclaimed the triumph of the bear.
"Alas, alas!" murmured old Karadeucq as he approached his companion. "My poor bear is wounded, mortally perhaps. I have lost my bread winner."
"Fetch boar spears and axes!" cried the count foaming at the mouth with fury. "Let the ferocious brute be cut to pieces on the spot; he has just killed Mirff and Morff, the best two dogs of my pack! By the Terrible Eagle, my ancestor, I order that the cursed bear be cut to pieces instantly! Did you hear me, Gondolf?" he added, addressing his master of the hounds and trembling with rage. "Take down one of those hunting spears from the wall – kill that bear, kill him on the spot!"
Gondolf hastened to arm himself as he was ordered, while Karadeucq, kneeling down again, cried to Chram with outstretched arms:
"Great King, my only hope rests with you. I implore mercy from you. I place myself under your protection and under the protection of your royal suite. Oh, redoubtable and invincible warrior! Oh, ye other valorous warriors of the King's suite, as terrible in battle as you are generous after victory, you surely will not want to see this animal killed; he vanquished, but was wounded in the struggle and fought fairly! No, no, ever following the example of your glorious King, your refined and courteous honor will revolt at such brutal cowardice, even if committed towards a poor animal! Oh, warriors who are as brilliant by your armor and military grace as you are terrible by your valor, I place myself at the mercy and under the protection of your King. He will demand the life of my bear of the seigneur count, who can refuse nothing to such a noble guest!"
The Frank is vainglorious; his pride delights in the most exaggerated praises of himself; Karadeucq was aware of this; moreover, by addressing himself exclusively to the royal bodyguard, he expected to throw once more the apple of discord between them and the count's leudes. His words were favorably received by the warriors of Chram, who, stepping towards Neroweg, said:
"Count, we demand of you grace for this brave animal, and we do so in the name of the old German custom, according to which a guest's request is always granted."
"King, the custom to the contrary notwithstanding, I shall avenge the death of Mirff and Morff, who cost me six gold pieces. Gondolf, fetch the spears and axes; the bear shall be cut to pieces instantly!"
"Count, the poor mountebank has placed himself under my protection. I may not forsake him."
"Chram, whether or not you protect the old bandit, I shall revenge the death of my magnificent dogs Mirff and Morff."
"Listen, Neroweg, I have a pack that is worth fully as much as yours. You saw it hunt in the forest of Margevol. You may send the master of the hounds to my villa, let him pick out six of my best and handsomest dogs to replace the two that lie dead at our feet."
"I said I would revenge Mirff and Morff," yelled the count furiously, grinding his teeth. "Gondolf, the spears! the spears! death to the devilish bear!"
"You savage rustic, you fail in all the duties of hospitality by denying the request of the King's son," bellowed the Lion of Poitiers at Neroweg, "just as you insulted us, your guests, by keeping your wife from the banquet, and by having your gold and silver vessels removed from the table even before the banquet was over! You are more of a bear than that animal, which you shall not kill. I forbid you – the mountebank has placed himself under the protection of Chram and of us, his men."
"Companions!" cried Sigefrid, "shall we tolerate the heaping of insults upon our count?"
"Just listen to the rustic brutes!" observed aloud one of Chram's warriors, "listen to them, barking as ever, without daring to bite."
"I, Neroweg, king in this burg, as any king in his kingdom, I shall kill that bear! And if you say another word, you whom they call Lion, I shall knock you down at my feet with a blow from my axe, insolent palace cub!"
"You dare insult me, you smut-covered boar!" screamed the Gallic renegade as, pale with anger, he drew his sword with one hand and with the other seized the count by the collar of his dalmatica. "You seem to want me to turn your throat into a sheath for my blade! Ask for mercy, or you are a dead man!"
"Ha, you double thief! You wish to steal my gold necklace!" cried Neroweg, thinking only of defending his jewelry, and concluding from the gesture of his adversary that the latter's purpose was to rob him. "I was right to place my gold and silver vessels out of the clutches of all of you thievish palace cubs."
"He calls us all thieves! To your swords, men of the royal bodyguard! Let us avenge our honor! Let us slash these rustics!"
"Ha, bastard dogs!" cried Neroweg between whom and the Lion of Poitiers Sigefrid had thrown himself. "You speak of swords – here is one for you, and of good temper; you will taste it, profligate blasphemer, who have of a lion only the name! To me, my leudes! they have raised their hands against your count! Let us slash the royal bodyguard!"
"Neroweg!" cried Chram interposing, as his favorite, who had shaken himself loose from Sigefrid, rushed at the count with upraised sword, "are you all fools to quarrel in this manner? Lion, I order you to put up your sword."
"Oh, great St. Martin, blessings upon your name for giving me the opportunity to chastise the sacrilegious whelp who had the audacity to raise his switch at my holy bishop, and who has never ceased sneering at both the holy man and me since he stepped into my burg," cried the count, deaf to the words of Chram, and striving to reach his adversary, from whom he had been again separated in the midst of the uproar.
"Boys, let us defend Neroweg!" Sigefrid called out to his fellow leudes of the count. "This is a good opportunity to prove to the braggards that our rough-looking swords are better than their parade weapons! To arms! Down with them to the last man!"
"And we also to arms! let us settle accounts with these dogs of the basement! They think they are strong, because they are on their own dunghill. Death to the clowns. Let us defend the favorite of King Chram, our King! Swing your axes!"
"My dear sons in God," screamed the bishop in a vain endeavor to dominate the tumult and the increasing uproar, "I order you, all of you, to put up your swords! It is an affliction to the Lord to see His sons quarrel over trifles. Obey your father in God!"
"My friends!" cried Chram in his turn but without being able to make himself heard, "it is folly, it is stupidity to slay one another in this wise. Imnachair! Spatachair! calm our men; and you, Neroweg, calm yours instead of exciting them!"
Vain words; they dropped unheard; neither Neroweg nor the rest of the leudes did or cared to listen to words of conciliation. As to Neroweg himself, a mass of combatants had again thrown themselves between him and the Lion of Poitiers, to whom he called in an enraged voice and struggled to reach. The warriors of Chram and those of the count soon passed from insults and threats, hurled at each other from a distance, to a hand-to-hand conflict. At the first blow the engagement became general – maddening, furious, maudlin and all the more terrible because the torch-bearing slaves, who alone lighted the hall, fearing to be killed in the brawl, fled away precipitately, some throwing their torches to the ground and thus extinguishing them, others carrying the lighted torches with them in their distracted flight. In an instant the banquet hall was deprived of its living illumination; the battle continued in the dark with blind ferocity.
And Karadeucq and the lover of the beautiful bishopess, did they remain quietly in the midst of the butchery? Oh, by no means! Vagres know better than that. After having skilfully thrown the firebrand in the midst of the leudes of the King and the count, Karadeucq saw with pleasure the flames of angry rivalry between the two sets of barbarians flare up a third time, after twice having been appeased; and it was with delight that he noticed it rage in such manner that both he and his bear were lost sight of. As soon as the conflagration which he had kindled was well under way, the old Vagre rushed to the bear, and unchaining him, said at his companion's ear: "Follow close at my heels and do as I do."
The melee was at its height; the torch-bearers had either fled or were fleeing, leaving the banquet hall in almost perfect darkness. Followed by the Master of the Hounds Karadeucq threw himself under the wide and massive table which, although now broken in parts, was not upset by the combat, being, contrary to the habit of the Franks, fastened to the floor. Thus under shelter for a moment the old Vagre unfastened the chain from around the neck of the lover of the bishopess, whereupon continuing to grope their way under the table by the flickering light of the extinguishing torches on the floor, they reached the door of the banquet hall, which was free from the combatants, and rushed out. As they issued from the banquet hall the Vagres found themselves face to face with two slaves who, having fled through another issue, were running distracted with their torches in their hands. Each Vagre seized one of the slaves by the throat.
"Extinguish your torch," said Karadeucq, "and lead me straight to the ergastula, or you die this instant."
"Give me your torch," said the lover of the bishopess, "and take me straight to the hay lofts, or I stab you to death."
The two slaves obeyed; the Vagres parted company; one ran towards the hay lofts and barns, the other to the ergastula, both guided by their conductors.
CHAPTER IX
THE RESCUE
The prisoners in the ergastula had 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 the ergastula are 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 the ergastula; 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 the ergastula; 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 reached the 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 the ergastula to 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 the ergastula in 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 the ergastula and 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, old Karadeucq 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 general rendezvous."
"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 that surged, 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!"
