The Abbatial Crosier; or, Bonaik and Septimine. A Tale of a Medieval Abbess

by Eugène Sue

  CHAPTER XI.

  THE FLIGHT.

  Bonaik, his apprentices, Rosen-Aer, and Septimine, confined sincemorning in the workshop, had impatiently waited for night. Everythingwas in readiness for the escape of Amael from the cavern when darknessshould set in. The glare of the brasier in the forge and the furnacealone lighted the workshop.

  "You are young and strong," said the old man to his apprentices; "forwant of better weapons, the iron bars that have been removed from thewindow may serve you to defend us. Deposit them in a corner. Now passthe barrel out of the window, and fasten to one of the hoops thisstring, the other end of which is in Amael's hands. He is ready. He hasjust answered my signal."

  Their hearts beating with hope and anxiety, Rosen-Aer and Septiminestood near the window in a close embrace. The apprentices pushed out thebarrel. The darkness was thick. Not even the whiteness of the buildingin whose lower part lay Amael's prison, was distinguishable. Drawntowards himself by the latter, the barrel soon disappeared in the dark.In the measure that it went, one of the apprentices paid out the ropeattached to it. The rope was to help pull the barrel back as soon asAmael had seized it. At that critical moment a profound silence reignedin the workshop. All seemed to hold their breath. Despite the pitchydarkness of the night that prevented anything being seen without, theeyes of all sought to penetrate the obscurity. Finally, after a fewminutes of anxiety, the apprentice, who, leaning out of the window,held the cord that was to pull the barrel back, said to the old man:"Master Bonaik, the prisoner is out of the cavern; he is holding thebarrel; I feel the cord tighten."

  "Then, you pull, my boy!... Pull gently.... Do not jerk!"

  "He is coming," replied the apprentice joyfully; "the prisoner's weightis upon the barrel."

  "Great God!" suddenly cried Rosen-Aer, pointing out of the window. "Lookin the cavern! There is a light!... All is lost!"

  Indeed, a strong light, shed by a lamp, suddenly appeared in thesubterranean prison. The semi-circular opening of the air-hole wasluminously marked across the darkness. The reverberation of the lightprojected itself upon the water in the moat--and revealed the fugitive,who, half submerged, held himself up with his two hands on the floatingbarrel. Immediately after, Meroflede appeared at the air-hole wrapped inher scarlet cloak with its hood thrown back, and leaning against theremaining bars which Amael had not had time to remove. At the sight ofthe fugitive, the abbess uttered a scream of rage and cried twice,"Berthoald! Berthoald!" She then disappeared, taking her lamp with her,so that again all was left in thickest darkness without. Frightened atthe appearance of the abbess, the apprentice who drew the barrel threwhimself back and dropped the cord. Fortunately the goldsmith seized itas soon, and amidst the mortal fear of all, drew the barrel close to thewindow, saying: "Let us first save Amael."

  Thanks to the barrel, which floated almost on a level with the windowsill, the latter was easily scaled by the prisoner. His first movementupon stepping into the workshop was to throw himself on his mother'sneck. Mother and son for a moment forgot their common danger and wereholding each other in a passionate embrace when a rap was heard at thedoor.

  "Woe is us!" muttered one of the apprentices. "It is the abbess!"

  "Impossible!" said the goldsmith. "To ascend from the prison, pass thecloister, cross the courtyard, and come as far as our workshop she wouldneed more than ten minutes."

  "Bonaik!" cried from the outside the rough voice of Ricarik, "open thedoor instantly."

  "Oh! what shall we do! The coal vault is too narrow to conceal Rosen-Aerand her son," muttered the old man; then raising his voice, he answered:"Seigneur intendant, we are just at the cast, we cannot leave it----"

  "That is the very operation I want to witness," cried back theintendant. "Open immediately."

  "You, Septimine, and your son remain near the window, lean out yourheads; you will otherwise be suffocated," hastily said the old man toRosen-Aer, taking a swift resolution. And pushing Amael, his mother andSeptimine to the casement, he whispered to one of the apprentices: "Pourthe full contents of the box of sulphur and bitumen upon the forgebrasier.... We shall fill the workshop with smoke."

  The young slave obeyed mechanically. At the moment when Ricarik beganagain to knock at the door with redoubled force, a sulphurous andbituminous smoke began to spread in the workshop, and soon was sointense that one could hardly see his hand before his eyes. Thus, whenthe old man finally proceeded to open the door to the intendant, thelatter, blinded and suffocated by a puff of the pungent and thick vapor,instead of stepping in, jumped back.

  "Walk in, seigneur intendant," said Bonaik, "this is the effect of thecasting after the fashion of the great Eloi.... We could not open to yousooner out of fear of chilling the liquid metal, which we were pouringinto the mold.... Step forward, seigneur intendant; come and see thecasting."

  "Go to the devil!" answered Ricarik, coughing fit to strangle andstepping further away from the threshold. "I am suffocated ... blinded!"

  "It is the effect of the casting, dear seigneur," and watching the bunchof keys at the belt of the intendant, who was rubbing his smartingeyelids with both hands, Bonaik seized him by the throat and cried:"This way, boys! He has the keys of the gates!"

  At the call of the old man, the apprentices and Amael rushed forward,precipitated themselves upon the intendant and smothered his cries byholding his throat tight, while Bonaik, seizing the bunch of keys, said:"Drag this fellow into the workshop and throw him out of the window intothe moat. That will settle him quickly, and he will no longer punish andkill poor slaves!"

  The old man's orders were immediately executed. Despite the resistanceof the Frank, the noise of his body was soon heard, dropping into thewater.

  "Now," cried the old man, "all come here! Follow me and let us run!"

  Hardly had the old man taken a few steps in the alley when he saw theslave who watched the gate approaching from a distance with a lightedlantern in his hand. "Remain hidden in the shadow," the goldsmith saidin a low voice to the fugitives, and he walked briskly toward thegateman, who met him with a look of surprise:

  "Helloa, old Bonaik! Is not the intendant in your workshop? I do notknow what the man is thinking about. It is two hours since the boat andoarsmen are waiting for his messenger.... They are growing impatient andwant to go."

  "They will not have long to wait; I am the messenger."

  "Are you going to fill the functions of messenger?"

  "Do you know this bunch of keys?"

  "Surely I know this bunch of keys. It is the one the intendant alwayscarries at his belt."

  "He confided it to me so that I could get out of the abbey yard in caseyou were not at your lodge. Let us go quick to the boat. Walk ahead."

  Convinced by the sincerity of the old man, whose presence of mind seemedto grow with the difficulties that arose in his way, the gateman marchedahead of him. Bonaik, however, slackened his pace, and, calling to oneof the apprentices, in a low voice said: "Justin, you and the othersfollow me at a distance; the night is dark, the light of the gateman'slantern will guide us, but the moment you hear me whistle, all run up tome." Having attended to that, Bonaik addressed the gateman who had gonefar ahead: "Helloa, Bernard! Do not walk so fast; you forget that at myage one's legs are not as nimble as yours." Thus, preceded by thegateman and followed at a distance in the dark by the rest of thefugitives, Bonaik arrived at the outer court of the monastery. Bernardstopped and seemed to listen.

  "What's the matter?" asked the goldsmith. "Why do you halt?"

  "Do you not see the flare of torches lighting the top of the wall of theinside court? Do you not hear voices?"

  "March, man! March! I have other business in hand than to stop to lookat torches, or listen to noises. I must obey our holy abbess and deliverRicarik's message as soon as possible. I have not a second to lose.Quick, let's hurry."

  "But something out of the usual order is going on in the monastery!"

  "It is for that very reason that the intendant sent me off with
so muchhaste on this message.... Hurry up! Time presses!"

  "Oh, that is something else, old Bonaik," answered Bernard, quickeninghis steps. The gateman hurried on, arrived in a minute at the outsideenclosure, and opened the gate. Immediately the old man whistled.Greatly surprised at this, the gateman asked him: "What are youwhistling for? The door is open. Go out, if you are in such a hurry. ButI hear steps. They seem to be running this way. Who are these people?"and he raised his lantern in order to obtain a better view. "There aretwo women; who may they be?"

  Bonaik cut short the gateman's observations with the peremptory order tothe fugitives: "Take the key out of the lock and close it after you.That will keep the gateman locked in." Hardly had the old man pronouncedthese words when Amael, the apprentices, Rosen-Aer and Septimine rushedthrough the opening. One of the apprentices pushed Bernard roughly backinto the court, took out the key, pulled the door after him and lockedit on the outside. Bonaik took up the lantern and cried: "Helloa, there!The boat! Come here for us to embark!"

  "Come this way!" answered several voices. "This way! The boat is tied tothe large willow tree."

  "Master Bonaik," said one of the apprentices in great trepidation, "weare pursued. The porter is calling for help. Look at the glimmer ofapproaching torches! They seem to be in the garden that we have justleft."

  "There is now nothing to fear, my lads, the gate is studded with ironand locked from without. Before they can have time to break it down, weshall have embarked," saying which the old man proceeded at a rapid pacetowards the willow tree. Observing on his way a full bag on Justin'sshoulder, Bonaik said to him: "What have you got in that bag?"

  "Master Bonaik, while you were talking to the intendant, Gervais and I,fearing some oversight on your part, took, out of precaution, I, my bagin which I stowed away the rest of our provisions, and Gervais the winepouch which is still half full."

  "You are wise lads; we have a long tramp before us after we shall havedisembarked."

  A few minutes later and the old man, together with his companions,arrived at the old willow tree. A boat stood ready. Four slave oarsmensat on the benches, with the steersman at the rudder. "At last!" saidthe steersman in a peevish tone. "Here we have been waiting over threehours; we are chilled through, and have more than two hours to row--"

  "I am going to give you a piece of good news, my friends," answered thegoldsmith to the boatmen. "I have brought oarsmen with me to relieveyou. You can go back to the monastery. The steersman alone will have toremain to pilot the boat."

  Glad and quickly the slaves jumped out of the boat. The steersmanresigned himself not without a murmur. Bonaik let Rosen-Aer andSeptimine enter first. Amael and the apprentices took hold of the oars,the steersman the rudder, and the boat swiftly left the bank behind,while Bonaik, wiping the sweat from his brow, said with a sigh of reliefand joy:

  "Oh, my boys, this was a casting day such as I never saw in the workshopof the great Eloi!"

  CHAPTER XII.

  MOTHER AND SON.

  At noon of the day following the exciting night in which the fugitivesleft the abbey, they halted for rest after having been uninterruptedlyon the march from the time that they disembarked at the other shore ofthe abbey's pond. Thanks to the precaution of the apprentices, one ofwhom had brought provisions and another a pouch of wine, their strengthwas speedily restored. The travelers had sat down upon the grass under awide-spreading oak whose foliage was yellowed by the late season. Attheir feet flowed a stream of limpid water, behind them rose a hill thatthey had just traveled over, following the track of an old Roman roadthat had fallen into decay. The road continued for a long distance untilthe turning of a wooded headland behind which it disappeared. Far awayin the distant horizon stood outlined the dark blue mountain-tops thatform the boundaries and frontier of Brittany. Guided by one of theapprentices who was familiar with the surroundings of the abbey, thefugitives had struck the old Roman road. It led to Nantes, at theboundary line of Armorica, and in the neighborhood of which, sevencenturies earlier, Julius Caesar established several entrenched camps inorder to protect his military colonies. Accustomed through hisprofession of war to measure distances, Amael calculated that bymarching until sunset, resting an hour, and then resuming their tramp,it would be possible to reach Brittany at the end of the next day.Septimine sat near Rosen-Aer and Amael, and the apprentices, spread outupon the grass, had just finished their frugal meal. The old goldsmithhaving also repaired his forces, pulled out of the pocket of his blousea little packet that was carefully wrapped up in a piece of smooth skin.The young folks followed the old man's movements with curiosity, and totheir great surprise they saw him take from its wrapping the littleabbatial crosier of silver, at which he had for some time beenchiseling. There were also two burins in the package. Noticing the lookof astonishment on the faces of the apprentices, he said to them:

  "You seem surprised, my children, to see that I carried this jewel fromthe abbey. It is not the value of the metal that tempted me."

  "I believe that, Master Bonaik; the little crosier has but little silverin it. But we still wonder why you brought it along."

  "Well, my boys, I love my trade.... I shall have no furtheropportunities to exercise it during the remaining days of my life.... Ipreserved my two best burins.... I mean to chisel this crosier so nicelythat by working upon it a little every day I shall consume the rest ofmy life at it. It will be the masterpiece of my long career."

  "You congratulated us upon our foresight, Master Bonaik, because wethought of the pouch of wine and the provisions. But we must admit thatyour foresight exceeds ours."

  "Good father, and you, my friends," said Amael, addressing himself tothe goldsmith and his apprentices, "please draw near; I wish you to hearwhat I have to say to my mother. I have committed a wrong, I should nowhave courage to make a public confession ... and beseech forgiveness."

  Rosen-Aer sighed and listened with sad and severe curiosity to her son'saccount of his conduct and career since she saw him as a boy. Looking ather with a surprised face Septimine seemed to beseech the indulgence ofthe mother, of this Gallic mother who felt so justly and so painfullymortified at her son.

  "From the moment that all peril to me was over," Amael began, "my motherhas not spoken to me during this long journey, either by day or night;she has refused the support of my arm, preferring that of this poorgirl, who saved her life. My mother's severity is just, I cannotcomplain of it, though it pains me.... May the truthful account of myfaults, the confession of my errors, and my sincere repentance merit herpardon."

  "A mother always forgives," said Septimine timidly, looking atRosen-Aer, but the latter answered in a tremulous and grave voice,without deigning to look at Amael:

  "My son's abandonment has torn my heart; a prey to unceasing and everrenewing anxieties on his behalf, I gave myself up alternately todespair and to insane hope.... These torments have lasted long years. Ican pardon my son for having caused them; but what is not in my power topardon is his criminal alliance with the oppressors of our race, withthose accursed Franks, who enslaved our fathers, outraged our mothers,and who continue to hold our children in bondage!"

  "My crime is great. But I swear to you, mother, that long before I sawyou again remorse gnawed at my heart. It is ten years since I left thevalley of Charolles, where I lived happily with my family. But I yieldedto curiosity, to an overpowering thirst for adventure. I believed thatbeyond our own confines I was to see an entirely new world. One eveningI left, but not without shedding many a tear, not without turning morethan once to take a parting look at our valley."

  "In my youth," said the old man, "my father often told me how Karadeucq,one of our ancestors, also left his family to run what then was calledthe 'Bagaudy'--to tramp free through the woods and lie in ambush forour oppressors. May, Rosen-Aer, the remembrance of our ancestor softenyour heart towards your son."

  "The Bagauders and the Vagres warred against the Romans and then againstthe Franks; they did not ally themselves with our opp
ressors, and fighton their side, as my son has done."

  "Your reproaches are merited, mother! You will see in the course of myaccount that I often made them to myself. Almost immediately uponquitting the valley I fell into the hands of a band of Franks. They wereon their way back from Auvergne and were traveling north. They made me aslave. Their chief kept me for a time to oversee and tend his horse, andto furbish his weapons. I had the instinct of war. The sight of arms orof a fine horse always fascinated me since childhood. You know it,mother."

  "Yes, your holidays were those on which the colonists of the valleyexercised themselves in arms ... or ran races on horseback."

  "Led a slave by that Frankish chief, I never sought to flee. He treatedme kindly. Besides, it was to me a pleasure to polish armors and to rideon the march. At least, and at last, I was seeing a new country....Alas, quite new! The fields were ravaged, the harvest was neglected, thefrightful distress of the subjugated populations of the districts thatwe traversed contrasted cruelly with the independent and happy life ofthe inhabitants of our valley. It was on such occasions that, thinkingof our happy region, of you, and of my father, tears dropped from myeyes, and my heart felt like breaking. Occasionally, the thought came tome of running away from the Franks and returning to you. But the fear ofa severe reprimand held me back."

  "I would have felt the same way, had I committed the same fault," saidSeptimine, who listened to Amael's report with tender interest. "Inever would have dared to return to my family."

  "After being more than a year with the Frankish chief, I had become agood groom, and I could master the most spirited horses. By cleaning theweapons I had learned to handle them. The Frank died. I was to be soldwith all his other slaves. A Jew named Mordecai, who traveled over Gaulas a trafficker in slaves, happened to be in Amiens at the time; heinspected my deceased master's slaves. He bought me and told me inadvance that he was to sell me to a rich Frankish seigneur namedBodegesil, Duke of the country of Poitiers. The seigneur, said the Jew,owned the finest horses and the finest armors imaginable. 'If you flee'said the Jew to me, 'I would lose a fat sum of money, because I boughtyou for a large amount, knowing I could dispose of you to the seigneurBodegesil at a good profit. If you run away you will lose a chance ofmaking your fortune. Bodegesil is a generous seigneur. Serve himfaithfully and he will take you to war with him whenever he is called totake the field with his men, and we have seen in these days of war morethan one manumitted slave become a count.' The Jew's words fired myambition, pride intoxicated me, I believed what he said, and did not tryto run away. He himself, in order to confirm my purpose, treated me athis best; he even promised me to have a letter that I wrote to you reachyou through another Jew who was to go to Burgundy."

  "The man did not keep his promise," said Rosen-Aer. "No tidings from youever reached me."

  "I am not surprised at his breach of promise. That Jew was greedy andfaithless. He took me to Duke Bodegesil. That Frank did indeed raisesuperb horses on the immense meadows of his domain, and one of the hallsof his burg, an ancient Roman castle, was fitted out with splendidarmors. But the Jew had lied to me on the duke's character. He was aviolent, cruel man. Still, struck almost immediately after my arrival atthe manner in which I broke in a savage colt that had until then beenthe terror of the stable slaves, he treated me with less severity thanhe did my Gallic or Frankish companions, because, you know, mother,that, thanks to the ups and downs of the times, a large number of thedescendants of the conquerors of the Gauls have fallen into poverty, andfrom poverty into slavery. Bodegesil was as cruel towards his slaves ofhis own German extraction as towards those of the Gallic race. Always onhorseback, always busy furbishing and handling weapons, I now steadilypursued an idea that was destined to be realized. The renown of Charles,the steward of the palace, had reached my ears; I had heard some of theFrankish friends of Bodegesil say that Charles, being compelled todefend Gaul in the north against the Frisians and in the south againstthe Arabs, and finding himself ill-supported by the old lay and clericalseigneurs, who furnished him little money and only small forces, gave afriendly reception to adventurers, several of whom by bravely fightingunder his orders, had arrived at unexpected wealth. I was twenty yearsold when I learned that Charles was approaching Poitiers for the purposeof driving back the Arabians, who then threatened to invade the region.The moment, long dreamed of by my ambition, had arrived. One day I tookthe handsomest suit of armor from Bodegesil's racks, I sequestered asword, a battle-axe, a lance and a buckler. When night fell I picked outof the stable the finest and most spirited horse. I put on the armor,and rode rapidly away from the castle. I wished to join Charles anddecided to conceal my extraction and pass for the son of a Frankishseigneur so as to interest Charles in my fortunes. About five or sixleagues from the castle, I was attacked early the next morning bybandits who infested the roads. I defended myself vigorously. I killedtwo of the robbers and said to the others: Charles needs brave men. Heleaves a large part of the booty to them. Come with me. It is better tofight in an army than to attack travelers on the road. The danger is thesame, but the profit is larger! The bandits took my advice and followedme. Our little troop was increased on the route by other idle butdetermined men. We arrived at the camp of Charles on the eve of thebattle of Poitiers. I claimed to be the son of a noble Frank who diedpoor and left me his horse and arms as only inheritance. Charlesreceived me with his habitual roughness. 'There will be a fightto-morrow,' he answered me, 'if you and your men behave well you will bepleased with me.' Accident willed it that at that battle against theArabs I saved the life of the Frankish chief by helping him to defendhimself against a group of Berbery riders who attacked him furiously. Iwas wounded in several places. That day secured the affection of Charlesto me. I shall not tell you, mother, of the many proofs of favor that hegave me. My great fortune was ever poisoned by the thought ever presentin my mind: 'I have lied; I have denied my race; I have allied myself tothe oppressors of Gaul; I have given them the aid of my sword inrepelling the Saxons and Arabs, who are neither more nor less barbarousthan our accursed Frankish conquerors.' More than once, during theincessant struggles between the seigneurs of Austrasia and those ofNeustria or Aquitaine--impious wars in which the counts, the dukes, andthe bishops drafted their Gallic colonists as soldiers--I fought againstthe men of my own race.... I reddened my sword with their blood. Theseare crimes."

  "Oh, shame and sorrow," murmured Rosen-Aer, covering her face with herhands, "to be the mother of such a son!"

  "Yes, shame and sorrow ... not for you only, but also for me. Alack! Iyielded to the consequence of a first false step; I fought the men of myrace, out of fear to be taken for a coward by Charles, out of fear tobetray my extraction. Pride intoxicated me when I saw myself admiringlysurrounded by the proudest of our conquerors--I, the son of thatconquered and subjugated people. But after such moments of vertigo wereover, I often envied the fate of the most miserable slave. They at leastwere entitled to the respect that undeserved misfortune inspires. Vainlydid I look for death in battle. I was condemned to live. Only in theintoxication of battle, in perilous undertakings did I find temporaryrelief from the remorse that haunted me. Oh, how often did I not thinkwith sorrow of our valley of Charolles, where my family lived! When Iafterward learned of the ravages of the region by the Arabs, of thedesperate resistance that its inhabitants had offered ... my relatives,my friends; when I thought that my sword might have defended you, or atleast avenged you, mother, from that time forward remorse embittered mylife. I never since had one instant of happiness."

  "Your father fought up to his last breath for freedom and for thefreedom of his kin. I saw him fall at my feet riddled with wounds! Wherewere you when your father was defending his hearth, his freedom and hisfamily?... Near the Frankish chief, fawning for his favor! Perchanceeven fighting your own brothers!"

  Amael covered his face with his hands and answered only with a smotheredsob.

  "Oh, for pity's sake, do not overwhelm him!" said Septimine toRosen-Aer. "S
ee how wretched he feels ... how contrite he is!"

  "Rosen-Aer," added the old man, "remember that yesterday your son wasstill the favorite of the sovereign chief of Gaul, and that to-day herenounces the favors that intoxicated him. He is no less wretched thanwe, and has no other wish than to live a poor and hard but free life inthe old Armorica that is the cradle of our family."

  "By Hesus!" cried Rosen-Aer. "Did my son voluntarily renounce thosegoods, those lands, those favors, the accursed gifts of Charles? Did younot extract him from a prison, where, without you, he would haveperished? Oh! The gods are just. My son owed his fortune to an impiousambition ... and the fortune came near being fatal to him. Glorified andenriched by the Franks, he has been shamefully punished and stripped ofall by a woman of their race."

  "Oh!" cried Septimine, breaking down in tears, "do you believe thatAmael, even if in full possession, would not have renounced all tofollow you, his mother?"

  "The man who falls away from his duty to his country and his race canalso fall away from his duty to his mother! I am justified to questionthe goodness of my son's heart!"

  "Master Bonaik," suddenly cried one of the apprentices in an accent offear, "look down below there, at the turning of the road ... there aresoldiers. They are approaching rapidly. They will be here within short!"

  At these words of the lad the fugitives jumped to their feet. Amaelhimself, forgetting for a moment the sorrow into which his mother's justseverity plunged him, dried his face that was moist with tears and tooka few steps forward to reconnoiter.

  "Great God!" cried Septimine. "They may be in pursuit of Amael.... Goodfather Bonaik, let us hide in this thicket----"

  "My child, that would be to expose ourselves to being pursued. Theriders have seen us.... Our flight would awaken their suspicion.Besides, they come from the side opposite to Nantes; they cannot havebeen sent in our pursuit."

  "Master Bonaik," said one of the apprentices, "three of the riders arehastening their horses' steps, and motion us with their hands to come tothem."

  "Perhaps a new danger now threatens us!" said Septimine, drawing closeto Rosen-Aer, who had alone remained seated, and seemed indifferent towhat went on around her. "Alack, what is to become of us!"

  "Oh, poor child!" said Rosen-Aer, "I care little for life at thismoment!... And yet the mere hope of some day finding again my son,served to sustain my sad life!"

  "But you have found again that son whose loss you so tenderly regretted.He is here, near you!"

  "No!" answered the Gallic mother with sorrow, "no, that is not my son!"

  Feeling not a little uneasy, Amael had walked toward the three Frankishhorsemen, who rode at the head of a more numerous troop. One of themreined in his steed, and said to Rosen-Aer's son: "Does this road leadto Nantes?"

  "Yes; it is the nearest road."

  "Does it also lead to the abbey of Meriadek?"

  "Yes," answered Amael, as much surprised at the meeting as at thequestions.

  "Arnulf," said the rider to one of his companions, "ride back and tellCount Bertchram that we are on the right road; while waiting for yourreturn to us, I shall let my horse drink at this stream."

  The rider departed, and while his two companions were allowing theirhorses to take a few throatfuls of water, Amael, who had not been ableto overcome the growing curiosity that seized him at hearing the name ofCount Bertchram, asked the two riders: "What brings Count Bertchram tothis country?"

  "He comes as a messenger of Charles, the chief of the Franks. Tell us,young man, whether we still have a long way to ride before we reach theabbey of Meriadek."

  "You could not reach the place until late to-night."

  "Is that abbey as rich as they claim?"

  "It is rich.... But why do you ask?"

  "Why?" said the soldier with a merry smile, "because Bertchram and weare to take possession of the abbey, which the good Charles has bestowedupon us."

  "But I heard it said that Charles had bestowed the monastery and all itsdependencies upon one Berthoald."

  During this conversation the other riders had joined their vanguard,followed by several carts drawn by mules and a few horses led by thebridle. The carts were loaded with baggage. Bertchram rode at the headof the main body. He was an elderly warrior of rude and stupidphysiognomy. Amael took a few steps toward the count. The lattersuddenly stopped his horse, dropped the reins, and rubbed his eyes as ifhe could not believe the evidence of their sense. He contemplated theson of Rosen-Aer for a few seconds in utter amazement, and then cried:"Berthoald! Count Berthoald!"

  "Yes, it is I.... Good-day to you, Bertchram!"

  Bertchram alighted from his horse and ran toward the young man tocontemplate him closer. "It is he ... and no mistake! And what are youdoing here, valiant count, in the company of these beggars?"

  "Speak not so loud. I am on a mission from Charles."

  "Bareheaded in that way? Without arms, your clothes soiled with mud andalmost in rags?"

  "It is a disguise that I have assumed."

  "You are a wily customer! Whenever the good Charles had some delicatematter in hand, it was always you he charged with it, because you aremore subtle than any of us others. Charles always said to me:'Bertchram, you would be a terrible man if your brain were as powerfulas your fist!' You probably do not know that I am the bearer of amessage to you?"

  "What is the message about?"

  "Simply this, that I come to replace you as abbot at the abbey ofMeriadek."

  "Charles is master, he can give and take back again."

  "Do not look upon the substitution as a disgrace, Berthoald! Far fromit! Charles raises you to the rank of duke, and he reserves for you thecommand of his vanguard in the war he is about to undertake against theFrisians. 'Upon the word of the Hammerer,' he said to us, 'I was a foolin confining to an abbey one of my youngest captains, and at this seasonwhen wars break out so unexpectedly; it is now, when I have notBerthoald at my side, that I feel how much I need him. The post I gavehim is good for an aged soldier; it fits you better than him, oldBertchram, go and take the place of Berthoald and his men; you shallgive him this letter from me, and as a pledge of my constant friendship,take to him two of my best horses; besides that, take to him from me amagnificent armor of Bordeaux. He loves fine armor and fine horses. Itwill please him.' And there they are with me," added Bertchram. "Thehorses are led by the bridle. They are beautiful, one is as black as araven, the other white as a swan. As to the armor, it is carefullypacked up in my baggage, I cannot show it to you now. It is amasterpiece of the most famous armorer of Bordeaux. It is enriched withgold and silver ornaments. The casque is a marvel."

  "I am truly touched with this fresh proof of Charles' affection,"answered Amael, "I shall report to him as soon as I have fulfilled hismission."

  "But he wishes you to join him immediately, as you will see by theletter that I have carefully put away in my cuirass," said the warriorhunting for the parchment.

  "Charles will not regret to see me arrive a day or two later if I returnto him after successfully attending to the mission that he confided tome. I shall find the horses and the armor at the abbey, where I shallsee you again, and now I shall move on with my men. But you must havemade a wide circuit, to judge by the road you are on!"

  "Charles gave me the command of a large troop that he has cantonned onthe frontiers of Brittany."

  "Does he expect to attack Armorica?"

  "I do not know. I left the troops entrenched in two old Roman camps, oneto the right, the other to the left of a long road that winds up there."

  "Is the troop large?"

  "About two thousand men distributed in two camps."

  "Charles can undertake nothing against Brittany with so small a numberof soldiers."

  "All he expects to do is to reconnoiter the frontier of the countryuntil after the war with the Frisians is ended, when he will be able togive his attention in person to the accursed Armorica. This province hasresisted our arms for more than three centuries, since t
he gloriousClovis conquered Gaul. Indeed it is a shame to us!"

  "Yes, the independence of Armorica is a shame to the arms of theFranks."

  "Here is Charles' letter," said Bertchram pulling from under his cuirassa scroll of parchment that he delivered to Amael, and ordering the twohorses which his slaves had unsaddled to be brought forward, he added:"Look at them! Are there any nobler or more spirited animals in theworld?"

  "No," answered Amael unable to avoid admiring the two superb stallions,that were with difficulty held by the slaves. The horses reared andcaracoled, daintily striking the ground with their hoofs; one was ebonyblack, with a bluish tinge; the other, white as snow, shone like silver.Their nostrils were inflated, their eyes sparkled under their longmanes, and they lashed the air with their flowing tails.

  "These are noble horses!" said Amael smothering a sigh; and motioning tothe slaves to re-cover the animals with their housings, he muttered:"Adieu, fine battle horses! Adieu magnificent armors!" Turning to theFrank, Amael said: "I wish you a happy journey.... I shall see you againat the abbey of Meriadek where I hope you may enjoy yourself."

  "Adieu, Berthoald; but ... a thought strikes me. Should your men refuseto admit me during your absence, what shall I do?"

  "Keep Charles' letter; it will notify my men of Charles' pleasure. Youmay break the seal before them."

  "I shall do it that way. Adieu, I shall take your place at the abbey,where I expect to have a dull time until your return. Adieu, and comeback soon."

  "One more question.... Who are the chiefs of the troops that arecantonned near the frontiers of Brittany?"

  "Two friends of yours, Hermann and Gondulf. They asked me to rememberthem to you."

  "Now, good-bye."

  "Good-bye, Berthoald."

  The chief of the Frankish troops, having resumed his march, followed byhis troops and train, soon disappeared before the eyes of the fugitives.Amael returned to the tree under which his traveling companions wereassembled. Hardly had he taken a few steps towards them when his motheropened her arms to him: "Come, my son; I have heard every word. Now, atleast, your renunciation of a brilliant career, that might have dazzledyou, is voluntary!"

  "You were near me, mother, and yonder I saw the frontiers of Brittany.Could I be dazzled by any favors from Charles against my mother and mycountry?"

  "Oh!" cried the matron tenderly pressing Amael to her breast. "This daymakes me forget all that I have suffered!"

  "And this, mother, is the first happy day that I have had in years--aday of unalloyed happiness."

  "You see I was right, your son's heart remained true," said Septimine toRosen-Aer with touching kindness.

  "Septimine!" replied Amael with a look of tenderness, "would you doubtmy heart in the future?"

  "No, Amael," she answered naively, looking at the young man with anexpression of timidity and surprise. "I shall never doubt you."

  "Mother, this sweet and brave girl saved your life; she is now afugitive, forever separated from her family. If she should consent togive me her hand, would you accept her as a daughter?"

  "Oh, with joy! With thankfulness!" said Rosen-Aer. "But would youconsent to the union, Septimine?"

  Blushing with surprise, with happiness and confusion, the girl threwherself on the neck of Amael's mother, and holding her face on thematron's breast, murmured:

  "I loved him since the day he showed himself so generous toward me atthe convent of St. Saturnine. Did he not there protect me?"

  "Oh, Rosen-Aer!" now exclaimed the old man who had stood near wrapped inthought, "the gods have blessed my old age, seeing they reserved such aday for me." And after a few seconds of silent emotion, shared in by theyoung apprentices, the old man proceeded, saying: "My friends, if youwill take my advice, let us resume our march. We shall have to walkbriskly in order to arrive to-morrow evening at the frontier ofArmorica."

  "Mother," said Amael, "lean upon me; you will not now refuse the supportof my arm?"

  "No, oh, no! my child!" answered the matron with tenderness, and brimfulof happiness, taking her son's arm.

  "And you, good father," said Septimine to the old goldsmith, "you leanon me."

  The fugitives resumed their march. After having traveled withoutaccident until night and the following day, they arrived at moon-risenot far from the first spurs of the wild and high mountains that serveboth as boundary and as ramparts to Armorica. The sight of his nativesoil awoke in Bonaik the recollections of his boyhood days as if byenchantment. Having before now crossed the frontiers with his father inorder to attend the Breton fairs, he remembered that four druid stonesof colossal size rose not far from a path that was cut between therocks, and that was so closely hemmed in, that it allowed only oneperson to march abreast. The fugitives entered the path one after theother and began climbing the steep ascent. Amael marched first.Presently they arrived at a little clearing or platform, surrounded byprecipices and beetled over by huge rocks.

  Suddenly the fugitives heard from a far distance above their heads asonorous voice, that, quivering through the surrounding and profoundsilence of the night, melancholically chanted these words:

  "She was young, She was fair, And holy was she; Hena her name, Hena, the Maid of the Island of Sen."

  Rosen-Aer, Bonaik and Amael, the three descendants of Joel, remained fora moment transfixed with exaltation, and yielding to an irresistibleimpulse all three fell upon their knees. Tears ran down their cheeks.Septimine and the apprentices, sharing the emotion which they wereunable to account for, also fell upon their knees, and all listened,while the sonorous voice which seemed to descend from the skies,concluded the Gallic chant now eight centuries old.

  "Oh, Hesus!" finally exclaimed Rosen-Aer, raising her tear-stained facetoward the starry vault where the sacred luminary of Gaul was shining inits splendor, "Oh, Hesus! I see a divine omen in this chant, so dear tothe descendants of Joel.... Blessed be the chant! It salutes us at thissolemn hour when, at last setting foot on this free soil, we return tothe ancient cradle of our family!"

  Guided by the old goldsmith, Amael, his mother, Septimine and theapprentices, arrived in the vicinity of the sacred stones of Karnak, andwere tenderly received by the sons of Bonaik's brother. Amael became afield laborer, the young apprentices followed his example and settled inthe tribe. At the death of Bonaik, the abbatial crosier, which he hadfinished at his leisure, was joined to the relics of the family of Joelaccompanied by this narrative which I, Amael, the son of Guen-Ael, whowas the son of Wanoch, who was the son of Alan a grandson of Ronan theVagre through Ronan's son Gregory, wrote shortly after our return toBrittany.

  THE END.