by Eugène Sue
[B] Ardent.
[C] Man-eater.
The stranger emitted a sigh of suppressed rage, bit what he could reach of his long blonde mustache and raised his eyes to heaven.
Joel proceeded while pricking his oxen:
“Mikael, my second son, is an armorer at Alrè, four leagues from here.... He does not fashion war implements only, but also plow-coulters and long Gallic scythes and axes that are highly prized, because he draws his iron from the mountains of Arres.... But there is more, friend traveler.... Mikael does other things besides. Before establishing himself at Alrè, he was at Bourges and worked with one of our parents who is a descendant of the first artisan who ever conceived the idea of alloying iron and copper with block-tin, a composition in which the artisans of Bourges excel.... Thus my son Mikael came away a worthy pupil of his masters. Oh, if you only saw the things he turns out! You would think the horse’s bits, the chariot ornaments, the superb casques of war that Mikael manufactures to be of silver! He has just finished a casque the point of which represents an elk’s head with its horns.... There is nothing more magnificent!”
“O!” murmured the stranger between his teeth, “how true is the saying: ‘The Sword of a Gaul kills but once, his tongue massacres you without end!’”
“Friend guest, so far I can bestow no praise upon your tongue, which is as silent as a fish’s. But I shall await your leisure, when it will be your turn to tell me who you are, whence you come, where you are going to, what you have seen in your travels, what wonderful people you have met, and the latest news from the sections of Gaul that you have traversed. While waiting for your narratives, I shall finish informing you about myself and family.”
At this threat the stranger contorted his members in an effort to snap his bonds; he failed; the rope was staunch, and Joel as well as his son made perfect knots.
“I have not yet spoken to you of my third son Albinik the sailor,” continued Joel. “He traffics with the island of Great Britanny, as well as all the ports of Gaul, and he goes as far as Spain carrying Gascony wines and salted provisions from Aquitaine.... Unfortunately he has been at sea a long time with his lovely wife Meroë; so you will not see them this evening at my house. I told you that besides three sons I had a daughter ... as to her! Oh, as to her!... See here,” added Joel with an air that was at once boastful and tender, “she is the pearl of the family.... It is not I only who say so, my wife also, my sons, my whole tribe says the same thing. There is but one voice to sing the praises of Hena, the daughter of Joel ... of Hena, one of the virgins of the Isle of Sen.”
“What!” cried the traveler sitting up with a start, the only motion allowed to him by his bonds, that held his feet tied and his arms pinioned behind him. “What? Your daughter? Is she one of the virgins of the Isle of Sen?”
“That seems to astonish and somewhat mollify you, friend guest!”
“Your daughter?” the stranger proceeded, as if unable to believe what he heard. “Your daughter?... Is she one of the nine druid priestesses of the Isle of Sen?”
“As true as that to-morrow it will be eighteen years since she was born! We have been preparing to celebrate her birthday, and you may attend the feast. The guest seated at our hearth is of our family.... You will see my daughter. She is the most beautiful, the sweetest, the wisest of her companions, without thereby detracting from any of them.”
“Very well, then,” brusquely replied the unknown, “I shall pardon you the violence you committed upon me.”
“Hospitable violence, friend.”
“Hospitable, or not, you prevented me by force from proceeding to the wharf of Erer, where a boat awaited me until sunset, to take me to the Isle of Sen.”
At these words Joel broke out laughing.
“What are you laughing about?” asked the stranger.
“If you were to tell me that a boat with the head of a dog, the wings of a bird and the tail of a fish was waiting for you to take you to the sun, I would laugh as loud, and for the same reason. You are my guest; I shall not insult you by telling you that you lie. But I will tell you, friend, you are joking when you talk of a boat that is to take you to the Isle of Sen. No man, excepting the very oldest druids, have ever or ever will set foot on the Isle of Sen.”
“And when you go there to see your daughter?”
“I do not step on the isle. I stop at the little island of Kellor. There I wait for my daughter, and she goes there to meet me.”
“Friend Joel,” said the traveler, “you have so willed it that I be your guest; I am that, and, as such, I ask a service of you. Take me to-morrow in your boat to the little island of Kellor.”
“Do you know that the ewaghs watch day and night?”
“I know it. It was one of them who was to come for me this evening at the wharf of Erer to conduct me to Talyessin the oldest of the druids, who, at this hour, is at the Isle of Sen with his wife Auria.”
“That is true!” exclaimed Joel much surprised. “The last time my daughter came home she said that Talyessin was on the isle since the new year, and that the wife of Talyessin tendered her a mother’s care.”
“You see, you may believe me, friend Joel. Take me to-morrow to the island of Kellor; I shall see one of the ewaghs.”
“I consent. I shall take you to the island of Kellor.”
“And now you may loosen my bonds. I swear by Hesus that I shall not seek to elude your hospitality.”
“Very well,” responded Joel, loosening the stranger’s bonds; “I trust my guest’s promise.”
While this conversation proceeded it had grown pitch dark. But the darkness notwithstanding and the difficulties of the road, the chariot, conducted by the sure hand of Joel, rolled up before his house. His son, Guilhern, who, mounted on the stranger’s horse, had followed the van, took an ox-horn that was opened at both ends, and using it for a trumpet blew three times. The signal was speedily answered by a great barking of dogs.
“Here we are at home!” said Joel to the stranger. “Be not alarmed at the barking of the dogs. Listen! That loud voice that dominates all the others is Deber-Trud’s, from whom descends the valiant breed of war dogs that you will see to-morrow. My son Guilhern will take your horse to the stable. The animal will find a good shelter and plenty of provender.”
At the sound of Guilhern’s trump, one of the family came out of the house holding a resin torch. Guided by the light, Joel led his oxen and the chariot entered the yard.
CHAPTER II.
A GALLIC HOMESTEAD.
LIKE ALL OTHER rural homes, Joel’s was spacious and round of shape. The walls consisted of two rows of hurdles, the space between which was filled with a mixture of beaten clay and straw; the inside and outside of the thick wall was plastered over with a layer of fine and fattish earth, which, when dry, was hard as sandstone. The roofing was large and projecting. It consisted of oaken joists joined together and covered with a layer of seaweed laid so thick that it was proof against water.
On either side of the house stood the barns destined for the storage of the harvest, and also for the stables, the sheepfolds, the kennels, the storerooms and the washrooms.
These several structures formed an oblong square that surrounded a large yard, closed up at night with a massive gate. On the outside, a strong palisade, raised on the brow of a deep ditch, enclosed the system of buildings, leaving between it and them an alley about four feet wide. Two large and ferocious war mastiffs were let loose during the night in the vacant space. The palisade had an exterior door that corresponded with an interior one. All were locked at night.
The number of men, women and children — all more or less near relatives of Joel — who cultivated fields in common with him, was considerable. These lodged in the houses attached to the principal building, where they met at noon and in the evening to take their joint meals.
Other homesteads, similarly constructed and occupied by numerous families who cultivated lands in common, lay scattered here and there over the lan
dscape and composed the ligniez, or tribe of Karnak, of which Joel was chosen chief.
Upon his entrance in the yard of his homestead, Joel was received with the caresses of his old war dog Deber-Trud, an animal of an iron grey color streaked with black, an enormous head, blood-shot eyes, and of such a high stature that in standing up to caress his master he placed his front paws upon Joel’s shoulders. He was a dog of such boldness that he once fought a monstrous bear of the mountains of Arres, and killed him. As to his war qualities, Deber-Trud would have been worthy of figuring with the war pack of Bithert, the Gallic chieftain who at sight of a small hostile troop said disdainfully: “They are not enough for a meal for my dogs.”
As Deber-Trud looked over and smelled the traveler with a doubtful air, Joel said to the animal: “Do you not see he is a guest whom I bring home?”
As if he understood the words, Deber-Trud ceased showing any uneasiness about the stranger, and gamboled clumsily ahead of his master into the house. The house was partitioned into three sections of unequal size. The two smaller ones, separated from each other and from the main hall by oaken panels, were destined, one for Joel and his wife, the other for Hena, their daughter, when she came to visit the family. The vast hall between the two served as a dining-room, and in it were performed the noon and evening in-door labors.
When the stranger entered the hall, a large fire of beech wood, enlivened with dry brush wood and seaweed burned in the hearth, and with its brilliancy rendered superfluous the light of a handsome lamp of burnished copper that hung from three chains of the same metal. The lamp was a present from Mikael the armorer.
Two whole sheep, impaled in long iron spits broiled before the hearth, while salmon and other sea fish boiled in a large pewter pot filled with water, seasoned with vinegar, salt and caraway.
The panels were ornamented with heads of wolves, boars, cerfs and of two wild bulls called urok, an animal that began to be rare in the region; beside them hung hunting weapons, such as bows, arrows and slings, and weapons of war, such as the sparr and the matag, axes, sabres of copper, bucklers of wood covered with the tough skin of seals, and long lances with iron heads, sharpened and barbed and provided with little brass bells, intended to notify the enemy from afar that the Gallic warrior approached, seeing that the latter disdains ambuscades, and loves to fight in the open. There were also fishing nets and harpoons to harpoon the salmon in the shallows when the tide goes out.
To the right of the main door stood a kind of altar, consisting of a block of granite, surmounted and covered by large oak branches freshly cut. A little copper bowl lay on the stone in which seven twigs of mistletoe stood. From above, on the wall, the following inscription looked down:
Abundance and Heaven
Are for the Just and the Pure.
He is Pure and Holy
Who Performs Celestial Works and Pure.
When Joel stepped into the house, he approached the copper basin in which stood the seven branches of mistletoe and reverently put his lips to each. His guest followed his example, and then both walked towards the hearth.
At the hearth was Mamm’ Margarid, Joel’s wife, with a distaff. She was tall of stature, and wore a short, sleeveless tunic of brown wool over a long robe of grey with narrow sleeves, both tunic and robe being fastened around her waist with her apron string. A white cap, cut square, left exposed her grey hair, that parted over her forehead. Like many other women of her kin, she wore a coral necklace round her neck, bracelets inwrought with garnets and other trinkets of gold and silver fashioned at Autun.
Around Mamm’ Margarid played the children of Guilhern and several other of her kin, while their young mothers busied themselves preparing supper.
“Margarid,” said Joel to his wife, “I bring a guest to you.”
“He is welcome,” answered the woman without stopping to spin. “The gods send us a guest, our hearth is his own. The eve of my daughter’s birth is propitious.”
“May your children when they travel, be received as I am by you,” answered the stranger respectfully.
“But you do not yet know what kind of a guest the gods have sent us, Margarid,” rejoined Joel; “such a guest as one would request of Ogmi for the long autumn and winter nights; a guest who in the course of his travels has seen so many curious things and wonderful that a hundred evenings would not be too many to listen to his marvelous stories.”
Hardly had Joel pronounced these words when, from Mamm’ Margarid and the young mothers down to the little boys and girls, all looked at the stranger with the greed of curiosity, expectant of the marvelous stories he was to tell.
“Are we to have supper soon, Margarid?” asked Joel. “Our guest is probably as hungry as myself; I am hungry as a wolf.”
“The folk have just gone out to fill the racks of the cattle,” answered Margarid; “they will be back shortly. If our guest is willing we shall be pleased of his company at supper.”
“I thank the wife of Joel, and shall wait,” said the unknown.
“And while waiting,” remarked Joel, “you can tell us a story—”
But the traveler interrupted his host and said smiling:
“Friend, as one cup serves for all, so does the same story serve for all.... The cup will shortly circulate from lip to lip, and the story from ear to ear.... But now tell me, what is that brass belt for that I see hanging yonder?”
“Have you not also in your country the belt of agility?”
“Explain yourself, Joel.”
“Here, with us, at every new moon, the lads of each tribe come to the chief and try on the belt, in order to prove that their girth has not broadened with self-indulgence, and that they have preserved themselves agile and nimble. Those who cannot hitch the belt around themselves, are hissed, are pointed at with derision, and must pay a fine. Accordingly, all see to their stomachs lest they come to look like a leathern bottle on two skittles.”
“A good custom. I regret it fell into disuse in my province. And what is the purpose of that big old trunk? It is of precious wood and seems to have seen many years.”
“Very many. That is the family trunk of triumph,” answered Joel opening the trunk, in which the stranger saw many whitened skulls. One of them, sawn in two, was mounted on a brass foot like a cup.
“These are, no doubt, the heads of enemies who have been killed by your fathers, friend Joel? With us this sort of family charnel houses has long been abandoned.”
“With us also. I preserve these heads only out of respect for my ancestors. Since more than two hundred years, the prisoners of war are no longer mutilated. The habit existed in the days of the kings whom Ritha-Gaür shaved of their hair, as you mentioned before, to make himself a blouse out of their beards. Those were gay days of barbarism, were those days of royalty. I heard my grandfather Kirio say that even as late as in the days of his father, Tiras, the men who went to war returned to their tribes carrying the heads of their enemies stuck to the points of their lances, or trailed by the hair from the breast-plates of their horses. They were then nailed to the doors of the houses for trophies, just as you see yonder on the wall the heads of wild animals.”
“With us, in olden days, friend Joel, these trophies were also preserved, but preserved in cedar oil when they were the heads of a hostile chieftain.”
“By Hesus! Cedar oil!... What magnificence!” exclaimed Joel smiling. “That is the way our wives reason: ‘for good fish, good sauce.’”
“These relics were with us, as with you, the book from which the young Gaul learned of the exploits of his fathers. Often did the families of the vanquished offer to ransom these spoils; but to relinquish for money a head conquered by oneself or an ancestor was looked upon as an unpardonable crime of avarice and impiousness. I say with you, those barbarous customs passed away with royalty, and with them the days when our ancestors painted their bodies blue and scarlet, and dyed their hair and beard with lime water to impart to them a copper-red hue.”
“Without w
ronging their memory, friend guest, our ancestors must have been unpleasant beings to look upon, and must have resembled the frightful red and blue dragons that ornament the prows of the vessels of those savage pirates of the North that my son Albinik the sailor and his lovely wife Meroë have told us some curious tales about. But here are our men back from the stables; we shall not have to wait much longer for supper. I see Margarid unspitting the lambs. You shall taste them, friend, and see what a fine taste the salt meadows on which they browse impart to their flesh.”
All the men of the family of Joel who entered the hall wore, like him, a sleeveless blouse of coarse wool, through which the sleeves of their jackets or white shirts were passed. Their breeches reached down to their ankles; and they were shod with low slippers. Several of these laborers, just in from the fields, wore over their shoulders a cloak of sheep-skin, which they immediately took off. All wore woolen caps, long hair cut round, and bushy beards. The last two to enter held each other by the arm; they were especially handsome and robust.
“Friend Joel,” inquired the stranger, “who are those two young fellows? The statues of the heathen god Mars are not better shaped, nor have so valiant an aspect.”
“They are two relatives of mine; two cousins, Julyan and Armel. They love each other like brothers.... Quite recently an enraged bull rushed at Armel and Julyan saved Armel at the peril of his own life. Thanks to Hesus we are not now in times of war. But should it be necessary to take up arms, Julyan and Armel have taken ‘the pledge of brotherhood’.... But supper is ready.... Come, yours is the seat of honor.”
Joel and the unknown guest drew near the table. It was round and raised somewhat above the floor which was covered with fresh straw. All around the table were seats bolstered with fragrant grass. The two broiled muttons, now quartered, were served up in large platters of beechwood, white as ivory. There were also large pieces of salted pork and a smoked ham of wild boar. The fish remained in the large pot that they had been boiled in.