by Eugène Sue
“No, I have no treasure for you, Elwig, but if you fear to return to your brother, follow me. Victoria will treat you kindly; you will not be a prisoner; I give you my word; you may rely upon the faith of a Gaul.”
Both the priestess and Riowag refused to listen; breaking out into wild imprecations they made a furious rush at me. In the tussle that ensued I killed the black warrior at the moment when he sought to stab me with his dagger, and I was wounded in the hand in the attempt to wrench the knife from Elwig’s grasp. I had just succeeded and thrown the weapon into the water when, attracted by the noise of the struggle, Douarnek and one of the soldiers leaped upon the shore to hasten to my help.
“Schanvoch,” Douarnek said quickly to me, “we did not follow your orders and row back at sunset. We remained at our anchorage, resolved to wait for you until morning. But thinking that you might issue at some other spot than where you landed, we rowed up and down along the shore. When we saw you this morning surrounded by those black devils, our first impulse was to row straight to the bank and suffer death beside you. But I recalled your orders, and we considered that for us to be killed was to cut off your retreat. But here you are, hale and sound. Now take my advice and let us return quickly to camp. These skinners of human bodies are ill neighbors to dwell among.”
While Douarnek was speaking to me, Elwig threw herself upon the corpse of Riowag and rent the air with roars of rage interspersed with sobs. However detestable the creature was, her paroxysm of grief touched my heart. I was about to address her when Douarnek cried:
“Schanvoch, look at the torches approaching yonder!”
Saying this Douarnek pointed in the direction of the Frankish camp. Luminous streaks were seen rapidly approaching through the dark.
“Your flight has been discovered, Elwig,” I said to her, and sought to tear her from her lover’s corpse, which she held clasped in a close embrace and over which she moaned piteously. “Your brother has started in your pursuit — you have not a minute to lose — come! — come! — or you are lost!”
“Schanvoch,” Douarnek said to me as I vainly sought to drag away Elwig, who seemed not to hear me and sobbed aloud, “the torches are carried by armed horsemen! Listen to the clanging of their weapons! Listen to the tramp of their horses! They cannot be further than six bow shots! I beached the bark in order to reach you all the quicker! We shall have barely time to put it afloat! Would you have us all killed? If that is your purpose, say so, and we shall die like brave men; but if you mean to flee, it is high time that you move!”
“It is your brother! It is death that is approaching!” I once more cried to Elwig, whom I could not bring myself to abandon without one more effort to save her. After all, she did save my life. A minute later and she would be lost.
Seeing, however, that the priestess did not answer me, I cried to Douarnek:
“Give me a hand — let us take her away by force!”
It was impossible to tear Elwig from the corpse of Riowag; she held it in a convulsive embrace; the only alternative left was to carry off both bodies. We tried it, but soon gave up the attempt.
In the meantime the Frankish horsemen were approaching so rapidly that the light of their resinous torches projected itself as far as the beach. It was too late to save Elwig. Our bark was with difficulty pushed off; I took the rudder; Douarnek and the two remaining soldiers bent vigorously to their oars.
We were still within easy bowshot from the shore when, by the light of the torches that the troops carried, we saw the first hurrying Frankish horsemen ride up. At their head I recognized Neroweg, the Terrible Eagle, distinguishable by his colossal stature. He was closely followed by several other horsemen, all shouting with concentrated rage. Neroweg drove his horse up to the animal’s neck into the river. His companions did the same, while they brandished their long lances with one hand and with the other their torches, whose ruddy reflections lighted far the waters of the river and fell upon our swiftly speeding bark.
Seated near the rudder, my back was turned to the bank and I remarked sadly to Douarnek:
“The miserable creature is killed by this time.”
And propelled by the three vigorous oarsmen, our bark shot through the water.
“Is that a man, a woman, or a demon that is following us?” cried Douarnek a moment later, dropping his oar and rising on his feet in order to look at the track that our bark left behind, and that was lighted by the glimmer of the distant torches that the Frankish horsemen continued to brandish even after they gave up the pursuit.
I also rose to my feet and looked in the same direction. A second later I cried:
“Stop! Do not row! It is she! It is Elwig! Douarnek, hand me an oar! I shall reach it to her! She seems to be exhausted!”
So said, so done. Fleeing from her brother and certain death, the priestess had thrown herself into the water and must have swam after us with extraordinary vigor. She seized the extremity of the oar with a convulsive grasp; two strokes of the oars backed the bark to her; and aided by one of the soldiers I was able to draw Elwig on board.
“Blessed be the gods!” I cried. “I would always have reproached myself for your death.”
The priestess made no answer; she let herself down on the bench of one of the oarsmen, and shrinking into a heap with her face between her knees, remained ominously silent. The oarsmen rowed vigorously on, and from time to time I looked back at the receding river bank. The torches of the Frankish horsemen glimmered fitfully, luminous spots through the haze of the night and the vapors that rose from the river. The end of our passage drew near; we began to distinguish the lights of our own encampment on the opposite bank. Several times I addressed Elwig, but received no answer. I threw over her shoulders and her clothes, wet with the chilly waters of the Rhine, the thick night cloak of one of the soldiers. In doing this I touched one of her arms; it was feverishly warm. A stranger to all that happened in the bark, the woman did not emerge from her savage silence. As I jumped ashore I said to Neroweg’s sister:
“I shall take you to-morrow to Victoria. Until then I tender you the hospitality of my house. My wife and her sister will treat you like a friend.”
She made me a sign to lead the way, and she followed. Douarnek then approached me and said in a low voice:
“If you take my advice, Schanvoch, after the she-devil, who I know not for what reason swam after you, has dried and warmed herself at your hearth, you will lock her up safely until morning. She might otherwise strangle your wife and child during the night. There is nothing more wily and ferocious than these Frankish women.”
“It will be a wise precaution to take,” I answered Douarnek.
And accompanied by Elwig, who, somber and silent, followed me like a specter, I proceeded homeward.
CHAPTER VII.
SHADOWS ACROSS THE PATH.
THE NIGHT WAS far advanced. I had reached within a few steps from my house when I saw through the dark a man crouching on the sill of one of the windows. He seemed to be peeping through the shutters. I gave a start. It was the window of my wife’s room.
I seized Elwig’s arm and said to her in a low voice:
“Do not budge — wait—”
She stopped and stood motionless. Controlling my emotion I advanced cautiously, seeking to avoid making the sand crunch under my feet. I failed. My steps were heard; the man jumped down from the window sill and fled. I rushed after him. Thinking that I meant to leave her in the lurch, Elwig ran after me, overtook me and seized me by the arm, crying with terror:
“If I am found alone in the Gallic camp I shall be killed!”
Despite all I could do, I could not disengage myself of Elwig’s hold until after the man had vanished from sight. He had too long a lead and the night was too dark for me to endeavor to catch him. Surprised and uneasy at the incident, I retraced my steps, and knocked at the door of my house.
I could hear from within the voices of my wife and her sister, who seemed uneasy at my prolonged absence.
Although they knew not that I had gone to the Frankish camp, they had not yet retired.
“It is I!” I cried to them. “It is I, Schanvoch!”
The door was no sooner opened than my wife, seeing me by the light that Sampso held in her hand, threw herself into my arms, saying in a tone of sweet and tender reproach:
“At last you are back! We began to feel alarmed about you, seeing you were gone since early morning.”
“And we, who counted upon you for our little feast,” put in Sampso; “but I suppose you met with old comrades in arms, and time passed quickly in their company.”
“Yes, I suppose the conversation was strung out over battles,” added Ellen still hanging on my neck, “and my dear Schanvoch forgot his wife, just a little—”
Ellen was interrupted by a cry from Sampso. She did not at first notice Elwig, who had remained in shadow near the door. At the sight, however, of the savage creature — pale, sinister and motionless — my wife’s sister could not repress her surprise and involuntary fear. Ellen quickly stepped back, noticed the presence of the priestess, and gazing at me as much surprised as her sister, said:
“Schanvoch, who is that woman?”
“Why, sister,” cried Sampso forgetting the presence of Elwig and looking at me more closely, “look, the sleeves of Schanvoch’s blouse are red with blood — he is wounded!”
My wife grew pale, stepped quickly back to me and anxiously scanned my face.
“Calm yourself,” I answered; “my wounds are slight. I concealed from you both the mission on which I was bound. I went to the camp of the Franks, our savage foes. I carried a message from Victoria.”
“To the camp of the Franks!” Ellen and Sampso cried terrified. “That meant death!”
“And this is the being who saved my life,” I said to my wife, pointing at Elwig, who stood motionless at the door. “I must bespeak the attention of you both in her behalf until to-morrow.”
When they learned that I owed my life to the Frankish woman my wife and her sister hastened toward Elwig, moved by a simultaneous impulse of gratitude; but they almost immediately stopped short, intimidated and even frightened by the sinister and impassive countenance of Elwig, the priestess, who seemed not to see them, and whose mind probably hovered over scenes far away.
“Give her some dry clothes, those that she has on are wet,” I said to my wife and her sister. “She does not understand Gallic; your thanks will be lost upon her.”
“Had she not saved your life,” Ellen said to me, “I would think the woman’s face looks somber and threatening.”
“She is a savage like the rest of her people. Get her some dry clothes, and I shall take her to the little side room, where I shall lock her up as a matter of precaution.”
Sampso went into a contiguous room to fetch a tunic and mantle for Elwig, while I said to my wife:
“Did you hear any noise at the window of your room to-night, shortly before I came in?”
“None whatever — neither did Sampso; she did not leave me since evening; we both felt uneasy at your absence. But why do you ask?”
I did not then answer my wife, seeing that Sampso at that moment returned with the clothes that she had gone after. I took them, passed them over to Elwig and said to her:
“My wife and her sister offer you these clothes. Yours are wet. Is there anything else that you wish? Are you hungry, or thirsty? What would you have?”
“I want solitude,” was Elwig’s answer, rejecting the proffered clothes with a gesture; “I want the black night. Only that will suit me at present.”
“Very well — follow me,” I said to her.
Leading the way, I opened the door of a little chamber, and raising the lamp in order to light its interior, I said to the priestess:
“You see yonder couch — rest yourself, and may the gods render peaceful to you the night that you are to pass under my roof.”
Elwig made no answer; she threw herself upon the couch and covered her face with her hands.
“And now,” I said to my wife as I closed and locked the door, “these duties of hospitality being attended to, I burn with the desire to embrace my little Alguen.”
I found you, my child, sleeping peacefully in your cradle. I covered you with kisses, that were all the sweeter to me seeing I had that very day feared never to see you again. Your mother and her sister examined and bandaged my wounds. They were slight.
While Ellen and Sampso were attending to me, I spoke to them of the man whom I had caught sight of on the window sill, and who seemed to be peeping through the shutters. They were greatly astonished at my words; they had heard no sound; they had been together since evening. While talking over the matter, Ellen said to me:
“Did you hear the news?”
“No.”
“Tetrik, the Governor of Gascony and relative of Victoria, arrived this evening. The Mother of the Camps rode out on horseback to meet him. We saw him go by.”
“And did Victorin accompany his mother?”
“He rode beside her. That must be the reason that we did not see him during the day.”
The arrival of Tetrik gave me food for reflection.
Sampso left me alone with Ellen. It was late. Early the next morning I was to report to Victoria and her son the result of my mission to the camp of the Franks.
CHAPTER VIII.
CAPTAIN MARION.
EARLY IN THE morning I repaired to Victoria’s residence. The humble house of the Mother of the Camps was reached through a long narrow path, skirted on either side by high ramparts that constituted the outer fortifications of one of the gates of Mayence. I was about twenty paces from the house when I heard behind me the following cries uttered in terror:
“Save yourself! Save yourself!”
Looking back, I saw with no little fright a two-wheeled cart dashing rapidly towards me. The cart was drawn by two horses whose driver had lost control over them.
I could jump off neither to the right nor the left of the narrow path to let the cart pass; its wheels almost grazed the opposite walls; I was still too far from Victoria’s residence to hope for escape in that direction; however swiftly I might run, I would be overtaken by the horses and trampled under their hoofs long before I could have reached the door. There was nothing left for me to do but to face the runaways, and, however hopeless the prospect, to seize them by the bit and attempt to stop them. Accordingly, I rushed forward upon the animals with my hands raised. Oh! A prodigy! Hardly did I touch the horses’ reins when they suddenly reared upon their haunches. It was almost as if my mere gesture had sufficed to check their impetuous course. Happy at having escaped what seemed certain death, but aware that I was not a magician, endowed with the power to arrest a runaway team with a mere motion of my hand, I asked myself while leaping back what the cause might be of the extraordinary spectacle. I noticed that the horses still made violent efforts to proceed on their career; they reared, tugged forward and stretched out their necks, but were unable to advance, as if the cart’s wheels were locked, or some superior power restrained them.
My curiosity stirred to a high pitch, I drew near, and gliding between the horses and the wall, succeeded in climbing over the dashboard of the cart whose driver I found crouching under the seat, looking more dead than alive. As the mystery seemed to deepen, my curiosity was pricked still more. I ran to the rear of the vehicle and noticed with no slight amazement that a large sized man, robust as a Hercules, was clinging to two ornamental pieces that projected from the rear of the cart. It was thanks to his weight, and to the superhuman resistance that his great strength enabled him to offer, that the team was held back.
“Captain Marion!” I cried. “I should have known as much! There is none other in the whole Gallic army able to hold back a cart going at full speed.”
“Tell that fool of a driver to pull in the reins. My wrists begin to tire.”
I was transmitting the orders to the driver who was beginning to recover his senses, when I saw
several soldiers, on guard at Victoria’s dwelling, pour out of the house attracted by the noise. They opened the yard gate and thus offered a safe exit to the cart.
“There is no longer any danger,” I said to the driver; “lead your horses on. But whom does this conveyance belong to?”
“To Tetrik, the Governor of Gascony, who arrived yesterday at Mayence. He stops at Victoria’s house,” answered the driver, while calming down his horses.
While the cart proceeded into the yard of Victoria’s residence, I walked back towards the captain to thank him for his timely aid.
Marion had left his blacksmith’s anvil for the army many years previous. He was well known and generally beloved among the soldiers, as much for his heroic courage and extraordinary strength, as for his exceptional good judgment, his sound reasoning powers, the austerity of his morals, and his extreme good fellowship. He now stood on the road, and with his casque in his hand wiped the sweat off his brow. He wore a cuirass of steel scales over his Gallic blouse, and a long sword at his side. His dusty boots told of a recent and long ride on horseback. His large sunburnt face, partly covered by a thick beard that began to be streaked with grey, was open and pleasing.
“Captain Marion,” I said to him, “I must thank you for having saved me from being ground under the wheels of that cart.”
“I did not know it was you who ran the risk of being trampled under the hoofs of those horses like a dog! A stupid sort of a death for a brave soldier like you, Schanvoch! But when I heard that devil of a driver crying: ‘Save yourself!’ I surmised he was about to kill somebody and I tried to hold the cart back. Fortunately my mother endowed me with a good pair of wrists. But where is my dear friend Eustace?” added the captain looking around.
“Whom do you refer to?”
“To a brave fellow, the old companion of my blacksmith days. Like me, he left the hammer for the lance. The fortune of war served me better than it did him. Despite his bravery, my friend Eustace has remained a simple horseman, while I have been promoted to captain. But there he is, yonder, with his arms crossed, and motionless as a signpost. Ho! Eustace! Eustace!”