The Abbatial Crosier; or, Bonaik and Septimine. A Tale of a Medieval Abbess
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CHAPTER IV.
MORDECAI THE SLAVE-DEALER.
Pale, affrighted, her face in tears, her hair unloosened, Septiminebroke into the room and threw herself at the feet of the abbot, crying:
"Mercy, Father, mercy!"
Close upon the heels of Septimine entered two slaves armed with whips,and carrying rolls of rope. They had run after the young girl, but nowstood respectfully awaiting the abbot's orders. Septimine was sobeautiful, her distress so touching, her suppliant attitude, accentuatedby the tears that flowed down her charming face, so pathetic, thatBerthoald was struck with admiration and suddenly felt an irrepressibleinterest in the distracted girl. Charles Martel himself could not holdback the cry of admiration: "My faith, what a pretty girl!"
"What do you want here?" brutally asked Father Clement, smarting underthe pain of having seen the gift of the abbey of Meriadek slip from him;and turning to the two slaves, who remained motionless at the door: "Whyhave you not punished this wretch?"
"Father, we were about to strip off her clothes and tie her to thewhipping-post. But she fought us so hard that she slipped away from us."
"Oh, Father!" cried Septimine in a voice suffocated with sobs andraising her suppliant hands to the abbot; "order me killed, but spare methe disgrace!"
"Charles," said Father Clement, "this slave girl sought to help theyoung prince to escape!... Drag her away!" he added to the slaves atthe door; "Have her well whipped!"
The slaves took a step forward, but Berthoald held them back with amenacing gesture. Approaching Septimine he took her hand and said: "Fearnot, poor child; Charles the chief of the Franks will not allow you tobe punished."
The young woman, not yet daring to rise, turned her charming facetowards Berthoald, and remained no less struck by the generosity of theyoung man than by his comely looks. Their eyes met. Berthoald felt aprofound emotion, while Charles said to Septimine: "Come, I pardon you;but why the devil, my little girl, did you want that royal urchin to runaway?"
"Oh, seigneur, the child is so unhappy! My father and mother, the sameas myself, felt pity for him.... That is all our crime, seigneur.... Iswear by the salvation of my soul;" and sobs again choked her voice.Again joining her hands, she could only utter the words: "Mercy; mercyfor my father and mother! Have pity upon us, noble seigneur!"
"You are weeping fit to choke yourself," said Charles, touched, despitehis roughness, at the sight of such youth, anguish and beauty: "I forbidthat your father and mother be punished."
"Seigneur ... they want to sell me and to separate me from myparents.... Have pity upon us!"
"What about that, monk?" asked Charles, while Berthoald, who felt hissorrow, admiration and pity increase by the second, could not take hiseyes from the charming maid.
"Seigneur," answered Father Clement, "I gave orders that, after beingseverely whipped, the three slaves, father, mother and daughter, be soldand taken far away from the convent. One of those slave-dealers whotravel through the country came this morning to offer me two carpentersand a smith that we stand in need of. I offered him the young girl inexchange together with her father and mother. But Mordecai refused theexchange."
"Mordecai!" involuntarily exclaimed Berthoald, whose face, suddenlyturning pale, now expressed as much fear as anxiety. "That Jew!"
"What the devil is the matter with you?" said Charles to the young man."You look as white as your cloak."
Berthoald sought to control his emotions, dropped his eyes and answeredin a quivering voice: "The horror that these accursed Jews inspire mewith is such ... that I can not see them, or even hear their namesmentioned, without shuddering, despite myself." Saying this, Berthoaldquickly took his casque from the table and put it on his head, pushingit down as far as he could so that the visor might conceal his face.
"I can understand your horror for the Jews," replied Charles; "I shareyour aversion for that race. Proceed, monk."
"Mordecai consented to take the girl, for whom he has a place; but hedoes not want either the father or the mother. I, accordingly, sold himthe girl, reserving the right of having her punished before delivery tohim. I shall sell her parents to some other slave-dealer."
"Seigneur!" cried Septimine breaking out into a fresh flood of tears,"slavery is a cruel condition, but it seems less hard when borne in thecompany of those whom we love--"
"The bargain is closed," said the abbot. "Mordecai paid me earnestmoney; he has my word; he is waiting for the girl."
When Berthoald heard that the Jew was in the convent he trembled anew,retreated into a niche in the wall, and threw the cape of his longArabian cloak over his casque so as to conceal his face. He thenaddressed the Frankish chief in a hurried voice like a man in fear ofsome imminent danger and anxious to leave the place:
"Charles, before I bid you good-bye, perhaps for a long time, cap theclimax of your generosity towards me. Give the father and mother of thischild their freedom, and buy her back from the Jew to prevent her beingseparated from her parents. Guilty though she was, it was only pity thatled her astray. You are about to place vigilant soldiers in this place.The little prince's escape will not need to be feared."
Hearing the tender words of Berthoald, Septimine raised her face to him,full with ineffable gratitude.
"Rest assured, Berthoald," said Charles; "and you, my girl, rise; thisabbey, where I wish to establish my warriors, shall have three slavesless. I can refuse nothing to this valiant officer."
"Take this, my child," said the young man putting several Arabian goldpieces into the hand of Septimine. "This is to help you, your father andmother to live. May you be happy! Bless the generosity of CharlesMartel; and remember me occasionally."
With an unconscious movement that absolutely controlled her will,Septimine took the hand that Berthoald reached out to her, and withouttaking the gold pieces that he tendered and that rolled down over thefloor, she kissed the young man's hand with such passionatethankfulness, that his own eyes were moistened with tears. CharlesMartel noticed the circumstance, and pointing at the young folks, criedwith the boisterous laugh peculiar to himself:
"Upon the word of Martel, I believe he weeps!"
Berthoald pulled the cape of his cloak further down over his face,leaving it now almost wholly covered.
"You are right, my brave fellow, to lower your cape and conceal yourtears."
"I shall not long treat you to the spectacle of my weakness, Charles;allow me to depart immediately with my men for the abbey of Meriadek."
"Go, my good companion in arms. I excuse your impatience. Be vigilant!Keep your men in daily exercise; let them be ever ready to answer myfirst call. I may have to use them against the accursed Bretons who havewithstood our arms since the days of Clovis. You are the count of thecounty of Nantes, close to the frontiers of that bedeviled Armorica.Your loyal sword may yet have occasion to render me such service that inthe end it may yet be I who will be your debtor. May we soon meet again!A happy trip and a fat abbey are my best wishes to you."
Thanks to the cape that almost wholly veiled Berthoald's face, he wasable to conceal from Charles the cruel agony that he became a prey tothe moment he heard Charles say that some day he might receive orders toinvade the country of the Bretons that had so far remained indomitable.He bent a knee before the chief of the Franks and left the refectory insuch a state of wild and complex anxiety that he did not even have aparting look for Septimine, who remained upon her knees amidst theSaracen gold pieces that lay strewn around her.
The young officer crossed the courtyard of the abbey to reach his horse,when, turning the corner of a wall, he found himself face to face with alittle grey-bearded man. It was the Jew Mordecai. Berthoald shivered andwalked quickly by; but although his face was hidden under the cape ofhis cloak, his eyes encountered the piercing ones of the Jew, who smiledsardonically while the young chief walked rapidly away.
The Jew had recognized Berthoald.
PART II.
THE ABBEY OF MERIADEK