Collected Works of Eugène Sue

by Eugène Sue

  At the place where Joel, the head of the family, took his seat, stood a huge cup of plated copper that even two men could not have drained. It was before that cup, which marked the place of honor, that the stranger was placed with Joel at his left and Mamm’ Margarid at his right.

  The old men, the young girls and the children then ranked themselves around the table. The grown up and the young men sat down behind these in a second row, from which they rose from time to time to perform some service, or, every time that, passing from hand to hand, beginning with the stranger, the large cup was empty, to fill it from a barrel of hydromel, that was placed at a corner of the hall. Furnished with a piece of barley or wheat bread, everyone received or took a slice of broiled or salted meat, which he cut up with his knife, or into which he bit freely without the help of knife.

  The old war-dog Deber-Trud, enjoying the privileges of his age and long years of service, lay at the feet of Joel, who did not forget his faithful servitor.

  Towards the end of the meal, Joel having carved the wild boar ham, detached the hoof, and following an ancient custom, said to his young relative Armel, handing it to him:

  “To you, Armel, belongs the bravest part! To you, the vanquisher in last evening’s fight!”

  At the moment when, proud of being pronounced the bravest in the presence of the stranger, Armel was stretching out his hand to take the wild boar’s hoof that Joel presented to him, an exceptionally short man in the family, nicknamed “Stumpy” by reason of his small stature, observed aloud:

  “Armel won in yesterday’s fight because he was not fighting with Julyan. Two bullocks of equal strength avoid and fear each other, and do not lock horns.”

  Feeling humiliated at hearing it said of them, and before a stranger, that they did not fight together because they were mutually afraid of each other, Julyan and Armel grew red in the face.

  With sparkling eyes, Julyan cried: “If I did not fight with Armel it was because someone else took my place; but Julyan fears Armel as little as Armel fears Julyan; and if you were but one inch taller, Stumpy, I would show you on the spot that, beginning with you, I fear nobody — not even my good brother Armel—”

  “Good brother Julyan!” added Armel whose eyes also began to glisten, “we shall have to prove to the stranger that we do not fear each other.”

  “Done, Armel — let’s fight with sabres and bucklers.”

  The two friends reached out their hands to each other and pressed them warmly. They entertained no rancor for each other; they loved each other as warmly as ever; the combat decided upon by them was a not uncommon outbreak of foolhardiness.

  Joel was not sorry at seeing his kin act bravely before his guest; and his family shared his views.

  At the announcement of the battle, everybody present, even the little children and young women and girls felt joyful; they clapped their hands smiling and looked at each other proud of the good opinion that the unknown visitor was to form of the courage of their family.

  Mamm’ Margarid thereupon addressed the young men: “The fight ends the moment I lower my distaff.”

  “These children are feasting you at their best, friend guest,” said Joel to the stranger; “you will, in turn, have to feast them by telling them and all of us some of the marvelous things that you have seen in your travels.”

  “I could not do else than pay in my best coin for your hospitality, friend,” answered the stranger. “I shall tell you the stories.”

  “Let’s hurry, brother Julyan,” said Armel; “I have a strong desire to hear the traveler. I can never get tired of listening to stories, but the story-tellers are rare around Karnak.”

  “You see, friend,” said Joel, “with what impatience your stories are awaited. But before starting, and so as to give you strength, you shall presently drink to the victor with good wine of Gaul,” and turning to his son: “Guilhern, fetch in the little keg of white wine from Beziers that your brother Albinik brought us on his last trip; fill up the cup in honor of the traveler.”

  When that was done, Joel said to Julyan and Armel:

  “Now, boys, fall to with your sabres!”

  CHAPTER III.

  ARMEL AND JULYAN.

  THE NUMEROUS FAMILY of Joel, gathered in a semi-circle at one end of the spacious hall, impatiently awaited the combat, with Mamm’ Margarid holding the place of honor. The stranger stood at her right, her husband at her left, and two of the smallest children before her on their knees. Margarid raised her distaff and gave the signal for the combat to begin; the lowering of the distaff was to be the signal for the combat to end.

  Julyan and Armel stripped down to the waist, preserving their breeches only. Again they clasped hands. Each thereupon slung on his left arm a buckler of wood covered with seal-skin, armed himself with a heavy sabre of copper, and impetuously assailed each other, being all the more spurred by the presence of the stranger, before whom they were eager to display their skill and valor. Joel’s guest looked more highly delighted than anyone else at the spectacle before him, and his face lighted with warlike animation.

  Julyan and Armel were at it. Their eyes sparkled, not with hatred but with foolhardiness. They exchanged no words of anger but of friendly cheer, all the while dealing out terrible blows that would have been deadly had they not been skillfully parried. At every thrust, brilliantly made, or dexterously avoided, the men, women and children in the audience clapped their hands, and according as the combat ran, cried:

  “Her ... her ... Julyan!”

  “Her ... her ... Armel!”

  Such was the effect of these cries, of the sight of the combat, of the clash of arms, that the huge mastiff Deber-Trud, the man-eater, felt the ardor of battle seize also himself, and barked wildly looking up at his master, who calmed and caressed him with his hand.

  Perspiration covered the young bodies of the handsome and robust Julyan and Armel. Each other’s peers in courage, vigor and agility, neither had yet wounded the other.

  “Let’s hurry, brother Julyan!” said Armel rushing on his companion with fresh impetus. “Let us hurry to hear the pretty stories of the stranger.”

  “The plow can go no faster than the plowman, brother Armel,” answered Julyan.

  With these words, Julyan seized his sabre with both hands, stretched himself at full length, and dealt so furious a stroke to his adversary that, although the latter threw himself back and thereby softened the blow, his buckler flew into splinters and the weapon struck Armel in the temple. The wounded man staggered for an instant and then fell flat upon his back, amid the admiring cries of “Her ... her ... Julyan!” from the enraptured by-standers among whom Stumpy was the loudest with the cry of “Her ... her!”

  After lowering her distaff as a sign that the combat was over Mamm’ Margarid stepped toward the wounded combatant to give him her attention, while Joel said to his guest, reaching him the cup:

  “Friend guest, you shall drink this old wine to the triumph of Julyan.”

  “I drink to the triumph of Julyan and also to the valiant defeat of Armel!” responded the stranger. “The courage of the vanquished youth equals that of the vanquisher.... I have seen many a combat, but never have I seen greater bravery and courage displayed! Glory to the family of Joel!... Glory to your tribe!”

  “Formerly,” said Joel, “these festive combats took place among us almost every day. Now they are rarer; they have been replaced by wrestling matches; but sabre combats better recall the habits of the old Gauls.”

  Mamm’ Margarid shook her head after a second inspection of the wound, while Julyan steadying himself against the wall sought to hold up his friend. One of the young women hurried with a casket of lint and salves, in which was also a little vial of mistletoe water. Armel’s wound bled copiously; it was staunched with difficulty; the wounded youth’s face was pale and his eyes closed.

  “Brother Armel,” said Julyan to him in a cheerful voice, on his knees beside the prostrate Armel, “do not break down for so little..
.. Each has his day and his hour.... To-day you were wounded, to-morrow will be my turn.... We fought bravely.... The stranger will not forget the young men of Karnak and of the family of Joel, the brenn of the tribe.”

  His face down, his forehead bathed in cold perspiration, Armel seemed not to hear the voice of his friend. Mamm’ Margarid again shook her head, ordered some burnt coal, that was brought her on a little flat stone and threw on it some of the pulverized mistletoe bark. A strong vapor rose from the little brasier, and Mamm’ Margarid made Armel inhale it. A little after he opened his eyes, looked around as if he awoke from a dream, and said feebly:

  “The angel of death calls me.... I shall now live no longer here but yonder.... My father and mother will be surprised and pleased to see me so soon.... I also shall be happy to meet them.”

  A second later he added regretfully:

  “How I would have liked to hear the pretty stories of the traveler!”

  “What, brother Armel!” said Julyan, visibly astonished and grieved. “Are you to depart so soon from us? We were enjoying life so well together.... We swore brotherhood and never to leave each other!”

  “We did so swear, Julyan,” Armel answered feebly, “but it is otherwise decreed.”

  Julyan dropped his head upon his two hands and made no answer.

  Mamm’ Margarid, skillful in the art of tending wounds, an art that she learned from a druid priestess her relative, placed her hand on Armel’s heart. A few seconds later she said to those near her and who, together with Joel and his guest, stood around:

  “Teutates calls Armel away to take him to those who have preceded us. He will soon depart. If any of us has any message for the loved ones who have preceded us yonder, and wishes Armel to carry it — let him make haste.”

  Mamm’ Margarid thereupon kissed the forehead of the dying young man and said to him: “Give to all the members of our family the kiss of remembrance and hope.”

  “I shall give them, Mamm’ Margarid, the kiss of remembrance and hope in your name,” answered Armel in a fainting voice, and added again in a pet, “and yet I would so much have liked to hear the pretty stories of the traveler!”

  These words seemed deeply to affect Julyan, who still holding his friend’s head looked down upon him with sadness.

  Little Sylvest, the son of Guilhern, a child of rosy cheeks and golden hair, who held with one hand the hand of his mother Henory, advanced a little and addressing the dying relative said:

  “I loved little Alanik very much; he went away last year.... Tell him that little Sylvest always remembers him, and embrace him for me, Armel.”

  “I shall embrace little Alanik for you, little Sylvest,” and Armel added again, “and yet I would have liked to hear the pretty stories of the traveler!”

  Another man of Joel’s family said to his expiring kinsman:

  “I was a friend of Houarne of the tribe of Morlech, our neighbor. He was killed defenceless, while asleep, a short time ago. Tell him, Armel, that Daoulas, his murderer, was discovered, was tried and condemned by the druids of Karnak and his sacrifice will soon take place. Houarne will be pleased to learn of Daoulas’ punishment.”

  Armel signified that he would convey the message to Houarne.

  Stumpy, who, not through wickedness but intemperate language, was the cause of Armel’s death, also drew near with a message to the one about to depart, and said:

  “You know that at the eighth face of this month’s moon old Mark, who lives near Glen’han was taken ill; the angel of death told him also to prepare for a speedy departure. Old Mark was not ready. He wished to assist at the wedding of his daughter’s daughter. Not being ready to go, old Mark bethought him of some one who might be ready to go in his place and that would satisfy the angel of death. He asked the druid, his physician, if he knew of some ‘substitute.’ The druid answered him that Gigel of Nouaren, a member of our tribe, would be available, that he might consent to depart in the place of old Mark, and that he might be induced to do so both out of kindness to Mark and to render himself agreeable to the gods, who are always pleased at the sight of such sacrifices. Gigel consented freely. Old Mark made him a present of ten pieces of silver with the stamp of a horse’s head, which Gigel distributed among his friends before departing. He then cheerfully emptied his last cup and bared his breast to the sacred knife amid the chants of the bards. The angel of death accepted the substitute. Old Mark attended the wedding of his daughter’s daughter, and to-day he is in good health—”

  “Do you mean to say that you are willing to depart in my stead, Stumpy?” asked the dying warrior. “I fear it is now too late—”

  “No, no; I am not ready to depart in your stead,” Stumpy hastened to answer. “I only wish to request you to return to Gigel three pieces of silver that I owed him; I could not repay him sooner. I feared Gigel might come and demand his money by moonlight in the shape of some demon.” Saying which Stumpy rummaged in his lamb-skin bag, took out three pieces with the stamp of a horse’s head, and placed them in the pocket of Armel’s breeches.

  “I shall hand your three pieces of silver to Gigel,” said Armel in a voice now hardly audible; and for a last time he murmured at Julyan’s ear: “And yet ... I would ... have liked ... to hear ... the pretty stories ... of ... the traveler.”

  “Be at ease, brother Armel,” Julyan answered him; “I shall attentively listen to the pretty stories so that I may remember them well; and to-morrow ... I shall depart and tell them to you.... I would weary here without you.... We swore brotherhood to each other, and never to be separated; I shall follow you and continue to live yonder in your company.”

  “Truly ... you will come?” said the dying youth, whom the promise seemed to render happy; “will you come ... to-morrow?”

  “To-morrow, by Hesus.... I swear to you, Armel, I shall come.”

  The eyes of the whole family turned to Julyan at hearing the promise, and looked lovingly upon him. The wounded youth seemed the most pleased of all, and with his last breath said:

  “So long, then, brother Julyan ... listen attentively ... to the stories.... And now ... farewell ... farewell ... to all of you of our tribe,” and Armel sought to suit the motion of his hands to his words.

  As loving relatives and friends crowd around one of their own when he is about to depart on a long journey, during which he will meet people of whom they all preserve a cherished remembrance, each now pressed the hand of Armel and gave him some tender commission for those of their tribe whom he was about to meet again.

  After Armel was dead, Joel closed the youth’s eyes and had him taken to the altar of grey stones, above which stood the copper bowl with the seven twigs of mistletoe.

  The body was then covered with oak branches taken from the altar, so that, instead of the corpse, only a heap of verdure met the eye, with Julyan seated close to it.

  Finally, the head of the family filled the large cup up to the brim, moistened his lips in it and said to the stranger: “May Armel’s journey be a happy one; he has ever been good and just; may he traverse under the guidance of Teutates the marvelous regions and countries that lie beyond the grave which none of us has yet traveled over, and which all of us will yet see. May Armel meet again those whom we have loved, and let him assure them that we love them still!”

  The cup went around; the women and young girls expressed their good wishes to Armel on his journey; the remains of the supper were removed; and all gathered at the hearth, impatient to hear the promised stories told by the stranger.

  CHAPTER IV.

  THE STORY OF ALBREGE.

  “IS IT A story that you want of me?” asked the unknown guest turning to Joel, and seeing the eyes of all fixed upon himself.

  “One story?” cried Joel. “Tell us twenty, a hundred! You must have seen so much! so many countries! so many peoples! One story only? Ah, by the good Ormi, you shall not be let off with only one story, friend guest!”

  “Oh, no!” cried the family in chorus and with set
determination. “Oh, no! We must have more than one!”

  “And yet,” observed the stranger with a pensive and severe mien, “there is more serious work in hand than to tell and listen to frivolous stories.”

  “I understand not what you mean,” said Joel no less taken back than his family; all turned their eyes upon the stranger in silent amazement.

  “No, you do not understand me,” replied the stranger sadly. “Nevertheless, I shall keep my promise — the thing promised is a thing done;” and pointing to Julyan who had remained at the other end of the hall near the oak-covered body of Armel he added: “We must see to it that that young man has something to tell his brother when he joins him beyond.”

  “Proceed, guest, proceed with your story,” answered Julyan, without raising his head from his hands; “proceed with your story; I shall not lose a word.... Armel shall hear it just as you tell it.”

  “Two years ago,” said the stranger, beginning his story, “while traveling among the Gauls who inhabit the borders of the Rhine, I happened one day to be at Strasburg. I had gone out of the town for a walk along the river bank. Presently I saw a large crowd of people moving in the direction of where I stood. They were following a man and woman, both young and both handsome, who carried on a buckler, that they held by the edges, a little baby not more than three or four months old. The man looked restless and somber; the woman pale and calm. Both stopped at the river’s bank, at a spot where the stream runs especially rapid. The crowd also stopped. I drew near and inquired who the man and woman were. ‘The man’s name is Vindorix, the woman’s Albrege; they are man and wife,’ was the answer I received. I then saw Vindorix, whose countenance waxed more and more somber, approach his wife and say to her:

  “‘This is the time.’

  “‘Do you wish it?’ asked Albrege. ‘Do you wish it?’

  “‘Yes,’ answered the husband; ‘I doubt — I want to be certain.’