by Eugène Sue
“When I was twelve, do my father and mother remember how happy I was at having been selected by the female druids of the Isle of Sen to receive in a veil of linen, whitened in the dew of night, the mistletoe which the druids cut with a gold sickle at the moment when the moon shed its clearest light? Do my father and mother remember how, bringing home the mistletoe to sanctify our home, I was taken hither by the ewaghs in a chariot decked with flowers and greens while the bards sang the glory of Hesus? What tender embraces did not my whole family lavish upon me at my return! What a feast it was in our tribe!”
“Dear, dear daughter,” said Margarid pressing Hena’s head against her maternal breast, “if the female druids chose you to receive the sacred mistletoe in a linen veil, it was because your soul was as pure as the veil.”
“It was because little Hena was the bravest of all her companions, she almost perished in the attempt to save Janed, the daughter of Wor, who, as she was gathering shells on the rocks along the shore of Glen’-Hek, fell into the water and was being carried away by the waves,” said Mikael the armorer, tenderly contemplating his sister.
“It was because, beyond all others, little Hena was sweet, patient and kind to the children; it was because, when only twelve, she instructed them like at matron at the cottage of the female druids of the Isle of Sen,” said Guilhern in his turn.
The daughter of Joel blushed with modesty at the words of her mother and brothers; but Stumpy insisted:
“But who is that third human sacrifice that is to appease Hesus and deliver us from war? Who is it, Hena, who is it to be sacrificed this evening?”
“I shall tell you, Stumpy,” answered the young maid rising; “I shall tell you after I have once more looked at the dear little chamber where I used to sleep when, having grown unto maidenhood, I came here from the Isle of Sen to attend our family feasts.” And stepping towards the door of the chamber, she stopped for a moment at the threshold and said:
“What sweet nights have I spent there after retiring for the evening, regretful of leaving you! With what impatience did I not rise in the morning to meet you again!”
Taking two steps into the little chamber, while her family felt ever more astonished at hearing Hena, still so young, thus dwell upon the past, the young maid proceeded, taking up several articles that lay upon a little table:
“This is the sea-shell necklace that I entertained myself making in the evening sitting beside my mother.... These are the little dried twigs that resemble trees, and that I gathered from our rocks.... This is the net which I used when the tide was going out to catch little fishes with; how the sport used to amuse me!... There are the rolls of white skin on which, every time I came here, I recorded my joy at meeting my relatives and again seeing the house of my birth.... I find everything in its place. I am glad of having gathered these young girl’s treasures.”
Stumpy, however, whom these mementoes did not seem to affect, again repeated in his sour and impatient voice:
“But who is to be the third human sacrifice that is to appease Hesus and deliver us from war? Who, Hena, is to be sacrificed this evening?”
“I shall let you know, Stumpy,” answered Hena smiling. “I shall let you know after I shall have distributed my little treasures among you all, — you among them, Stumpy.”
Saying this, the daughter of the brenn motioned to her relatives to enter the chamber, and in the midst of the silent astonishment of all she gave a souvenir to each. Each, even of the little ones who loved her so much and also Stumpy received something. In order to make her gifts reach around, she loosened the sea-shell necklace and split up the dry twigs, saying in her sweet voice to each:
“Keep this, I pray you, out of friendship for Hena, your relative and friend.”
Joel, his wife and his three children, to all of whom Hena had not yet given aught, looked at one another all the more astonished at what she did, seeing that towards the end tears appeared in her eyes although the young maid gave no other token of sadness. When all the others were supplied, Hena took from her neck the garnet necklace that she wore and said to Margarid while kissing her hand:
“Hena prays her mother to keep this out of love for her.”
She then took the little rolls of white skin that had been prepared for writing on, handed them to Joel and kissing his hand said:
“Hena prays her father to keep this roll out of love for her; he will there find her most cherished thoughts.”
Detaching thereupon from her arm her two garnet bracelets, Hena said to the wife of her brother Guilhern, the laborer:
“Hena prays her sister Henory to wear this bracelet out of love for her.”
And giving the other bracelet to her brother the mariner she said:
“Your wife, Meroë, whom I love as much for her courage as for her noble heart, is to keep this bracelet as a souvenir from me.”
Hena then took from her copper belt the little gold sickle and crescent that hung from it. She tendered the former to Guilhern the laborer, the second to Albinik the mariner, and taking a ring from her finger she gave it to Mikael the armorer, saying to the three:
“I wish my brothers to preserve these keepsakes out of love for their sister Hena.”
All those present remained astonished and holding in their hands the gifts that the virgin of the Isle of Sen had delivered to them. They all remained standing and so speechless with astonishment that none could utter a word, but looked uneasily at one another as if threatened by some unknown disaster. Hena finally turned to Stumpy:
“Stumpy,” said she, “I shall now let you know who is to be the third sacrifice of this evening;” and taking the hands of Joel and Margarid she gently led them back into the large hall, whither all the others followed. Arrived there, Hena addressed her parents and assembled relatives:
“My father and mother know that the blood of a cowardly murderer is an expiatory offering to Hesus, and that it might appease him—”
“Yes — you told us so, dear daughter.”
“They also know that the blood of a brave man who dies in pledge of friendship is a valorous offering to Hesus, and that it might appease him.”
“Yes — you told us so, dear daughter.”
“Finally, my father and mother know that the most acceptable of all offerings to Hesus and most likely to appease him is the innocent blood of a virgin, happy and proud at the thought of offering her blood to Hesus, and of doing so voluntarily — voluntarily — in the hope that that all-powerful god may deliver our beloved fatherland, this dear and sacred fatherland of our fathers, from foreign oppression!... Thus the innocent blood of a virgin will flow this evening to appease the wrath of Hesus.”
“And her name?” asked Stumpy, “the name of that virgin who is to deliver us from war!”
Hena looked towards her father and mother with tenderness and serenity and said:
“The virgin who is to die is one of the nine female druids of the Isle of Sen. Her name is Hena. She is the daughter of Margarid and Joel, the brenn of the tribe of Karnak!”
Deep silence fell upon the family of Joel. None, not one present, expected to see Hena travel so soon yonder. None, not one present, neither her father, nor her mother, nor her brothers, nor any of her other relatives, was prepared for the farewells of the sudden journey.
The children joined their little hands and said weeping:
“What!... Leave us so soon?... Our Hena?... Why do you journey away?”
The father and mother looked at each other and sighed.
Margarid said to Hena: “Joel and Margarid believed that they would have to wait for their dear daughter in those unknown worlds, where we continue to live and where we meet again those whom we have loved here.... But it is to be otherwise. It is Hena who will precede us.”
“And perhaps,” said the brenn, “our sweet and dear daughter will not long have to wait for us—”
“May her blood, innocent and pure as a lamb’s, appease the wrath of Hesus!” added Margar
id; “May we soon be able to follow our dear daughter and inform her that Gaul is delivered from the stranger.”
“And the remembrance of the valiant sacrifice of our daughter shall be kept alive in our race,” said the father; “so long as the descendants of Joel, the brenn of the tribe of Karnak, shall live they will be proud to number among their ancestors Hena, the virgin of the Isle of Sen.”
The young maid made no answer. Her eyes wandered with sweet avidity from one relative to the other as, at the moment of undertaking a journey, the departing one takes a last look at the beloved beings from whom he is to be separated for a while.
Pointing through the open door at the moon that, now at her fullest, was seen across the evening mist rising large-orbed and ruddy like a burning disk, Stumpy cried:
“Hena!... Hena! The moon is rising above the horizon....”
“You are right, Stumpy; this is the hour,” she said, unwillingly taking her eyes from the faces of her beloved family. An instant later she added:
“Let my father and mother and all the members of my family accompany me to the sacred stones of the forest of Karnak.... The hour of the sacrifice has come.”
Walking between Joel and Margarid, and followed by all the members of the tribe, Hena walked serenely to the forest of Karnak.
CHAPTER IX.
THE FOREST OF KARNAK.
THE CALL FOR assembling that was issued to the tribes at noon, had run from mouth to mouth, from village to village, from town to town. It was heard all over Breton Gaul. Towards evening the tribes proceeded en masse — men, women and children — to the forest of Karnak, the same as Joel and his family.
The moon, at her fullest on that night, shone radiant amid the stars in the firmament. After having marched through the dark and the lighted spots of the forest, the assembling multitude finally arrived at the shores of the sea. The sacred stones of Karnak rose there in nine long avenues. They are sacred stones! They are the gigantic pillars of a temple that has the sky for its vault.
In the measure that the tribes drew nearer to the place, their solemnity deepened.
At the extremity of the avenue, the three stones of the sacrificial altar were ranged in a semi-circle, close to the shore. Behind the mass of people rose the deep and brooding forest, before them extended the boundless sea, above them spread the starry firmament.
The tribes did not step beyond the last avenue of Karnak. They left a wide space between themselves and the altar. The large crowd remained silent.
At the feet of the sacrificial stones rose three pyres.
The center one, the largest of the three, was ornamented with long white veils striped with purple; it was also ornamented with ash, oak and birch-tree branches, arranged in mystical order.
The pyre to the right was somewhat less high, but was also ornamented with green branches besides sheafs of wheat. On it lay the body of Armel, who had been killed in loyal combat. It was almost hidden under green and fruit-bearing boughs.
The left pyre was surmounted with a hollow bunch of twisted osiers bearing the resemblance of a human body of gigantic stature.
The sound of cymbals and harps was presently heard from the distance.
The male and female druids, together with the virgins of the Isle of Sen were approaching the sacrificial place.
At the head of the procession marched the bards, dressed in long white tunics that were held around their waists by brass belts; their temples were wreathed in oak leaves; they sang while playing upon their harps: “God, Gaul and her heroes.”
They were followed by the ewaghs charged with the sacrifices, and carrying torches and axes; they led in their midst and in chains Daoulas, the murderer who was to be executed.
Behind these marched the druids themselves, clad in their purple-striped white robes, and their temples also wreathed in oak leaves. In their midst was Julyan, happy and proud; Julyan who was glad to leave this world in order to rejoin his friend Armel, and journey in his company over the unknown worlds.
Finally came the married female druids, clad in white tunics with gold belts, and the nine virgins of the Isle of Sen, clad in their black tunics, their belts of brass, their arms bare, their green chaplets and their gold harps. Hena walked at the head of the latter. Her eyes looked for her father, her mother and her relatives — Joel, Margarid and their family had been placed in the front rank of the crowd — they soon recognized their daughter; their hearts went out to her.
The druids ranked themselves beside the sacrificial stones. The bards ceased chanting. One of the ewaghs than said to the crowd, that all who wished to be remembered to people whom they had loved and who were no longer here, could deposit their letters and offering on the pyres.
A large number of relatives and friends of those who had long been traveling yonder, thereupon piously approached the pyres, and deposited letters, flowers and other souvenirs that were to re-appear in the other worlds, the same as the souls of the bodies that were about to dissolve in brilliant flames, were to re-appear in a new body.
Nobody, however, not one single person, deposited aught on the pyre of the murderer. As proud and joyful as Julyan was, Daoulas was crestfallen and frightened. Julyan had everything to hope for from the continuance of a life that had been uniformly pure and just. The murderer had everything to fear from the continuance of a life that was stained with crime. After all the offerings for the departed ones were deposited on the pyres, a profound silence followed.
The ewaghs led Daoulas in chains to the osier effigy. Despite the pitiful cries of the condemned man, he was pinioned and placed at the foot of the pyre, and the ewaghs remained near him, axes in hand.
Talyessin, the oldest of all the druids, an old man with long white beard, made a sign to one of the bards, who thereupon struck his three-stringed harp and intonated the following chant, after pointing to the murderer:
“This man is of the tribe of Morlech. He killed Houarne of the same tribe. Did he kill him, like a brave man face to face with equal weapons? No, Daoulas killed Houarne like a coward. At the noon hour, Houarne was asleep under a tree. Daoulas approached him on tiptoe, axe in hand and killed his victim with one blow. Little Erick of the same tribe, who happened to be in a near-by tree picking fruit, saw the murder and him who committed it. On the evening of the same day the ewaghs seized Daoulas in his tribe. Brought before the druids of Karnak and confronted by Erick, he confessed his crime. Whereupon the oldest of the druids said:
“‘In the name of Hesus, He who is because he is, in the name of Teutates, who presides over journeys in this world and in the others, hear: The expiatory blood of the murderer is agreeable to Hesus.... You are about to be born again in other worlds. Your new life will be terrible, because you were cruel and cowardly.... You will die to be re-born in still greater wretchedness forever and ever through all eternity.... Become, on the contrary, from the moment that you are re-born, brave and good, despite the sufferings that you will endure and you will then die happy, to be re-born yonder, thus forever and ever, through all eternity!!!’”
The bard then addressed himself to the murderer, who emitted fearful cries of terror.
Thus spoke the venerable druid: “Daoulas, you are about to die ... and to meet your victim.... He is waiting for you, he is waiting for you!”
When the bard pronounced these words, a shudder went through the assembled crowd. The fearful thought of meeting in the next world alive him who was killed in this made them all tremble.
The bard proceeded, turning towards the pyre:
“Daoulas, you are about to die! It is a glorious thing to see the face of a brave and just person at the moment when he or she voluntarily quits this world for some sacred cause. They love, at the moment of their departure to see the tender looks of farewell of their parents and friends. Cowards like yourself, Daoulas, are unworthy of taking a last look at the just. Hence, Daoulas, you will die and burn hidden in that envelop of osier, the effigy of a man, as you have become since the commis
sion of the murder.”
And the bard cried:
“In the name of Hesus! In the name of Teutates! Glory, glory to the brave! Shame, shame on the coward!”
All the bards struck upon their harps and their cymbals, and cried in chorus:
“Glory, glory to the brave! Shame, shame on the coward!”
An ewagh then took up a sacred knife, cut off the murderer’s life and cast his body inside of the huge osier effigy of a man. The pyre was set on fire. The harps and cymbals struck up in chorus, and all the tribes repeated aloud the last words of the bard:
“Shame on the coward!”
Soon the murderer’s pyre was a raging mass of flame, within which was seen for a moment the effigy of a man like a giant on fire. The flames lighted the tops of the oaks of the forest, the colossal stones of Karnak, and even the vast expanse of the sea, while the moon inundated the space with its divine light. A few minutes later there was nothing left but a heap of ashes where the pyre of Daoulas had stood.
Julyan was then seen ascending with radiant mien the pyre where lay the body of Armel, his friend — his pledged brother. Julyan had on his holiday clothes: a blouse of fine material striped white and blue, held around his waist by an embroidered leather belt, from which hung his knife. His caped cloak of brown wool was held by a brooch over his left shoulder. An oak crown decked his manly head. He held in his hand a nosegay of vervain. He looked serene and bold. Hardly had he ascended the pyre, when again the harps and cymbals struck up, and the bard chanted:
“Who is this? He is a brave man! It is Julyan the laborer; Julyan of the family of Joel, the brenn of the tribe of Karnak! He fears the gods, and all love him. He is good, he is industrious, he is brave. He killed Armel not in hate but in a contest, in loyal combat, buckler on arm, sword in hand, like a true Breton Gaul, who loves to display his bravery and does not fear death. Armel having departed, Julyan, who had pledged brotherhood to him, wishes to depart also and join his friend. Glory to Julyan, faithful to the teachings of the druids. He knows that the creatures of the All-Powerful never die, and his pure and noble blood Julyan now offers up to Hesus. Glory, hope and happiness to Julyan! He has been good, just and brave. He will be re-born still happier, still juster, still braver, and ever onward, from world to world, Julyan will be re-born, his soul being ever re-incarnated in a new body the same as the body that here puts on new clothes.”