Heroines of the French Epic

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Heroines of the French Epic Page 49

by Newth, Michael A. H. ;


  The land of France from Bertha – and she from it alike!

  “Fair daughter,” said the mother, “it cannot be denied

  That climbers need more courage the higher that they climb,

  370 And you will have to suffer a little ere you thrive!

  In my own bed young Bertha shall spend her marriage-night,

  But then, when in the morning the sun begins to rise,

  I’ll send her to replace you at royal Pepin’s side.

  And that is when you’ll bury this dagger in your thigh,

  With such a force it causes your crimson blood to fly,

  And you to cry ‘God help me! My lord! A killer strikes!’

  And that’s when I shall enter and seize our simple bride!

  Your part will then be over – I’ll do the rest required!”

  “Good mother,” said the maiden, “I’ll do as you desire.”

  380 And so they planned between them – and damned themselves thereby!

  That evening, after dinner, as darkness filled the sky,

  The clergy blessed the bedroom where Bertha was to lie,

  And old Margiste made certain, with courtesy and smiles,

  That everyone was happy to leave and go outside.

  To make the darkness deeper she took out all the lights,

  Then, turning down the bedclothes, she hid Aliste inside!

  The dagger that they needed to carry out their crime

  Was hidden by the bedside to wait its bidden time.

  MARGISTE WAS WELL content – her evil heart was smiling

  390 As to her room she went, where Bertha lay in hiding.

  “My lady, I have left my daughter much repining.

  We’ve served you very well, you must agree, your Highness!”

  Said Bertha: “Yes indeed. May God reward your kindness.”

  Margiste then bade her sleep – may God reward her slyness

  With all the pain He can – her daughter too, and Tybert–

  And told her how to play the part she was required to:

  “Remember, sweet: at dawn, be ready in your nightgown

  To go back to the King and gently lie beside him!”

  Bertha the debonair, whose heart was good and guileless,

  400 Replied: “My friend, I’ll do whatever you advise me.

  I’ve no desire to thwart your planning in the slightest.”

  She sat up in her bed, to pray and read the Bible,

  For Bertha was well read, and very skilled in writing.

  AND SO IT WAS, that evening, the King of France made love

  To Bertha’ scheming handmaid, who’d so betrayed her trust.

  And what is more, I tell you, their night produced a son,

  Prince Rainfroi – though he hardly was made of princely stuff.

  In time they had another, called Hardré – both of them

  Were schemers full of malice and false to everyone.

  410 Returning to my story: before the sun was up,

  Margiste sent word to Tybert that it was time to come,

  And so he did, the traitor, with willing speed enough.

  When Bertha woke, she also knew what her duty was,

  And went back to her chamber as softly as a nun,

  The way Margiste had told her the risk would best be run.

  But as she neared the bedside, Aliste the maid rose up

  From where she had been lying beneath the regal rugs

  And swiftly seized the dagger. She raised it and she plunged

  The blade against her thigh-bone and drove it, back to front,

  420 So firmly that directly the bed was spread with blood.

  But then she passed the dagger to Bertha’s hand at once,

  Whose fingers took it blindly and in all innocence

  Of trust in her old servant who must have planned it thus.

  A shriek of pain erupted from the young traitor’s lungs:

  “Ah, Pepin, royal husband! What trap is this I’ve sprung

  To slay me here beside you? Alas for me, and us!”

  King Pepin woke to witness the bloody dagger clutched

  In Bertha’s hands – or, rather, her servant’s, as he judged –

  And, starting up directly, his senses ran amuck!

  430 Margiste the crone, pretending a shock you know was none,

  Came rushing to her daughter and saw the streaming cut.

  When Pepin saw it also he swore to God above

  That, as she was the culprit, her daughter must be hung!

  “My lord,” the crone lamented, “I know indeed she must!

  For Heaven’s sake, I beg you, arrange for it at once!

  She is no more my daughter whose treachery is such!”

  At this she seized on Bertha and with a mighty cuff

  Across her face she thrust her outside the room at once,

  Where Bertha went, contented her plan required it thus –

  440 Although her eyes were streaming from how the blow was struck.

  But then, when Tybert seized her – a curse upon the thug –

  And dragged her by the mantle with ripping hands and rough,

  She cried: “So help me, Jesus, Who died for all of us,

  What’s happening? What evil have I been cast among?”

  Margiste arrived abruptly, but passing them, she rushed

  To reach a rope she’d left there to tie their captive up.

  They threw her down; they turned her to lie upon her front,

  And forcing her mouth open, against her will they stuffed

  A cruel rope inside it, just like the bit is thrust

  450 Inside the mouth of horses to bear the bridle’s brunt.

  She couldn’t make a whisper, she couldn’t feel her tongue:

  They tied the rope behind her so tightly it was numb.

  To villainy abandoned they bound her hands and flung

  Her down upon some bedding and covered her right up.

  May God, Who is all-seeing, reveal the evil done!

  WHEN BERTHA HAD been wrought beyond her strength to struggle–

  Her mouth so tightly gagged, she couldn’t even mumble,

  Face-down upon a bed, her body tied and covered –

  Margiste the evil crone leaned over her and muttered

  460 This warning in her ear, her voice a rasp of cunning:

  “If you dare make a sound, I swear by God above us,

  I’ll slit your pretty throat from one side to the other!”

  When Bertha heard her voice, its horror made her shudder.

  She knew she’d been betrayed by those she most had trusted,

  And fell into a swoon as terror swamped her courage.

  Her traitor turned away, without delay, instructing

  Young Tybert to remain and keep her undiscovered.

  Returning to the room where Pepin was, she uttered

  A cry of grief and rage, the both of which were humbug,

  470 While to her daughter’s feet she fell and pleaded humbly:

  “My Queen, for love of God, Who made the sky above us,

  If you could see the way I’ve had my daughter punished,

  You’d know I bear no blame for her insane presumption.”

  “Be silent,” cried the King, “you rancid, rabid mongrel!

  Your treachery is clear – the pair of you are culprit!

  You wanted Bertha dead – and she was your accomplice!

  Your daughter shall be hung! Your plea avails you nothing!”

  At this Aliste broke in: “I beg you, noble husband,

  Do not suspect Margiste of conduct unbecoming!

  480 From here to Iceland’s S
ea there breathes no finer mother.

  Her daughter, sad to say, is known by us to suffer

  From madness, like the loon in moonlight full or bloodied.

  My lord, I beg a boon, this morning of our loving,

  The very first request I’ve made of your indulgence

  Since I became your wife. I came here at your summons,

  To wear the golden crown for you and for your country.

  I beg you, on the faith you swore to me in public,

  Please keep this sorry act a secret fact among us.

  I would not have it said and spread to all and sundry!

  490 I brought this troubled maid to live in France the lovely,

  And would be too ashamed for all to know I’d done it.

  This very dawn, my lord, have three lieutenants summoned:

  Confide her to their guard and give them these instructions:

  She must be led, at once, by them to some far country,

  Then strangled by their hands, her body buried somewhere –

  I don’t care how she dies, provided that she does so!”

  “My lady,” said the crone, “I own that that is justice.

  Upon my soul, it’s true, the devil that corrupts her

  Must some way be expelled to hell with all its brothers!”

  500 The King heard their request, and in no mood to shun it,

  Agreed that every word they’d said would be accomplished.

  Aliste cajoled her way, with tenderness so stubborn,

  That soon she’d reconciled King Pepin with her mother

  So well he said that she should manage this abduction.

  Margiste was filled with joy, but as she bowed she furrowed

  Her brow in sham of woe and shame beyond her compass.

  How low a game she’d played – but, oh, how well she’d won it!

  UPON HIS FEET rose Pepin – he had no time to sit,

  As he was pressed to action by Margiste and Aliste,

  510 And went himself to summon three officers of his.

  He didn’t give a reason why only they were picked,

  But told them, as he led them back in to old Margiste,

  That they should do her bidding and do it to the hilt!

  “My lords,” she interrupted, “equip yourselves forthwith,

  While I prepare the mission that you are to fulfil.

  Return when you are ready, and learn your part therein.”

  She showed to them the chamber where Bertha languished still:

  “It’s here that I’ll be waiting. Be quiet, but be quick!”

  She too was in a hurry, as, with a sigh, she slipped

  520 Away from them and, sobbing, went back to see the King,

  Who truly thought that sorrow had robbed her of her wits.

  She urged the King, however, still weeping as she did:

  “Go back to bed, your Highness, and rest assured of this:

  You’ll never see henceforward the girl who was Aliste:

  She is no more my daughter. No child of mine shall live,

  Who dares to harm a hair of my Lady Bertha’s skin!”

  On saying this, she left him – a curse upon her tricks –

  And then her real daughter began to cry, as if

  She too was broken-hearted – she sighed up quite a wind!

  530 The King was most attentive and tried his best to give

  His lovely wife some comfort: “Don’t sorrow so, my chick!

  Forget about this servant – God rot the lunatic!

  Her mind was full of poison with power still to kill!

  Don’t hide the hurt you’ve suffered! How deep a wound is it?”

  “My noble lord,” she answered, “it’s nothing time won’t fix.

  The shock of it was more than the injury it did.

  If you will lock our bedroom, I’ll show you where she hit.”

  She said this to divert him from what was happening

  Outside, and give her mother more time to manage it.

  540 The mother and young Tybert made use of every bit:

  Upon a sumpter Bertha was very swiftly pitched

  And led off by the guardsmen amid the morning mist.

  Young Tybert made a fourth one – and God, I hope, a fifth

  Who’ll guard her from the others and save her from their sin!

  Before they left, the mother told Tybert, her young kin:

  “Bring back the heart of Bertha to prove that she is killed!”

  And then, again, she told him the task he should acquit,

  And how he should acquit it in all and everything –

  Because it was essential to seal young Bertha’s lips.

  550 “Good aunt,” he said, “don’t worry! I have the will and skill

  To do what I have promised – and do it well I will!”

  On saying this, he left her and they began their trip.

  THE MOON WAS STILL aglow as morning mist was lifting,

  And Bertha forced to go in woe most unremitting,

  Well hidden from the eyes of any passing witness –

  How underserved a plight for such a loving Christian!

  “Dear God on High,” she sighed, “from Whom no sight is hidden,

  I pay the heavy price of someone else’s sinning!

  Alas that I have dwelt in company so wicked!

  560 Has ever sweet before felt suddenly so bitter?

  Alas! I’ll see no more my good and noble kinsmen –

  The mother I adore, my father or my siblings!

  Defend, O mighty Lord, my body and my spirit!”

  WITHOUT A LIE, young Bertha was truly terrified.

  Not knowing where they led her or any reason why,

  She called on God to help her, our Governor and Guide.

  I don’t intend to tell you the details of their ride,

  Except that when they came to a hostel they confined

  Young Bertha in a solar, where she was out of sight

  570 Of everyone but Tybert – a curse upon his kind!

  When finally he brought her some food and drink at night,

  He showed her very clearly the sharp edge of his knife,

  To plunge her spirits deeper and give her such a fright

  She wouldn’t dare to utter a single cry or sigh.

  And while she ate her supper he never left her side

  Until he’d wedged the rope back inside her mouth and tied

  Her hands again, the villain, to keep her pacified,

  And locked away from others until the morning light.

  And that is how they travelled, in truth, without a lie,

  580 For five whole days on horseback until they had arrived

  Inside a wood whose cover was heavy, high and wide.

  Its name was Mansel forest – so I have been apprised.

  They halted there, I’m certain, beneath an olive high,

  As Tybert said: “Companions, I swear by Jesus Christ,

  We have no need to journey a further day or mile!”

  “Thank God for that, young master!” the other three replied,

  And on the grass dismounted before he changed his mind.

  The sergeant, who was Mōrant, a good and honest type,

  With Renier and Godfrey, the soldiers by his side,

  590 Took Bertha from the sumpter – God help her in her plight!

  They’d never been so close to young Bertha all this time,

  For Tybert hadn’t let them, or any other, nigh.

  She wore a costly mantle upon her robe of white,

  And when they raised the blanket that hid and held her tight

  They saw so fair a captive th
e tears came to their eyes.

  Young Tybert, quick as lightning, withdrew his sword and cried:

  “Enough, my lords! Step backward! The task ahead is mine!

  The devil that’s within her shall soon be exorcised!”

  When Bertha saw the weapon a shudder shook her spine,

  600 And to the ground she crumpled in terror out of mind.

  She kissed the earth before them to supplicate the knights,

  For she could do no other to tell them of her plight –

  Her lovely mouth was stopped with the gag that he had tied.

  “Don’t touch her with your weapon!” the one called Mōrant cried:

  “I swear that if you do so, by God, the Lord of life,

  I’ll use my own on you, sir – though it should mean that I

  Must farewell France forever, for doing what was right!”

  THE DAY WAS BLEAK indeed. In driving rain and icy

  Upon the forest floor poor Bertha lay in silence.

  610 In dread of Tybert’s sword and how he meant to ply it,

  She prayed to Heaven’s Maid, the comfort of the righteous.

  Sir Mōrant said: “My lords, what craven knave could find it

  Within his heart to treat so fair a maid so vilely?”

  “By God, we have no choice, all four of us!” said Tybert:

  “She must be slain today, and left where none may find her,

  For me to do the task my cherished aunt assigned me!”

  “Your heart’s as hard as stone – and I, for one, defy it!”

  Said Mōrant, adding this: “I swear, upon the Bible,

  That if you harm this maid, no gold on earth shall buy you

  620 A better bed than here to lie in and to die in!”

  YOUNG TYBERT’S CHEEKS were glowing. They burned an angry red

  When his desire was thwarted to witness Bertha dead,

  And he unsheathed his sword-blade completely nonetheless.

  At once the others countered: they seized him, right and left.

  Upon his knees they forced him to drop his weapon, then

  Unsheathed their own to show him they meant what they had said.

  While two of them detained him, their sergeant, whose noblesse

  Now greatly pitied Bertha, untied her arms and legs,

  And freed her lovely mouth of the loathsome gag as well.

  630 “Run for your life, my lovely! Go on, at once!” he pressed:

  “May God in His great mercy defend and guide you hence!”

 

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