by Eugène Sue
CHAPTER I.
THE GUEST.
He who writes this account is called Joel, the brenn[A] of the tribe ofKarnak; he is the son of Marik, who was the son of Kirio, the son ofTiras, the son of Gomer, the son of Vorr, the son of Glenan, the son ofErer, the son of Roderik chosen chief of the Gallic army that, now twohundred and seventy-seven years ago, levied tribute upon Rome.
[A] Gallic word for chief.
Joel (why should I not say so?) feared the gods, he was of a rightheart, a steady courage and a cheerful mind. He loved to laugh, to tellstories, and above all to hear them told, like the genuine Gaul that hewas.
At the time when Caesar invaded Gaul (may his name be accursed!), Joellived two leagues from Alre, not far from the sea and the isle ofRoswallan, near the edge of the forest of Karnak, the most celebratedforest of Breton Gaul.
One evening towards nightfall--the evening before the anniversary of theday when Hena, his daughter, his well-beloved daughter was born untohim--it is now eighteen years ago--Joel and his eldest son Guilhern werereturning home in a chariot drawn by four of those fine little Bretonoxen whose horns are smaller than their ears. Joel and his son had beenlaying marl on their lands, as is usually done in the autumn, so thatthe lands may be in good condition for seed-time in the spring. Thechariot was slowly climbing up the hill of Craig'h at a place where thatmountainous road is narrowed between two rocks, and from where the seais seen at a distance, and still farther away the Isle of Sen--themysterious and sacred isle.
"Father," Guilhern said to Joel, "look down there below on the flank ofthe hill. There is a rider coming this way. Despite the steepness of thedescent, he has put his horse to a gallop."
"As sure as the good Elldud invented the plow, that man will break hisneck."
"Where can he be riding to in such a hurry? The sun is going down; thewind blows high and threatens a storm; and that road that leads to thedesert strand--"
"Son, that man is not of Breton Gaul. He wears a furred cap and a shaggycoat, and his tanned-skin hose are fastened with red bands."
"A short axe hangs at his right and he has a long knife in a sheath athis left."
"His large black horse does not seem to stumble in the descent.... Wherecan he be going in such a hurry?"
"Father, the man must have lost his way."
"Oh, my son, may Teutates hear you! We shall tender our hospitality tothe rider. His dress tells he is a stranger. What beautiful stories willhe not be able to tell us of his country and his travels!"
"May the divine Ogmi, whose words bind men in golden chains, bepropitious to us, father! It is long since any strange story-teller hassat at our hearth."
"Besides, we have had no news of what is going on elsewhere in Gaul."
"Unfortunately so!"
"Oh, my son, if I were all-powerful as Hesus, I would have a newstory-teller every evening at supper."
"I would send men traveling everywhere, and have them return and telltheir adventures."
"And if I had the power of Hesus, what wonderful adventures would I notprovide for my travelers so as to increase the interest in their storieson their return."
"Father, the rider is coming close to us!"
"Yes, he reins in because the road is here narrow, and we bar hispassage with our chariot. Come, Guilhern, the moment is favorable; thepassenger must have lost his way; let us offer him hospitality forto-night. We shall then keep him to-morrow, and perhaps several otherdays. We shall have done him a good turn, and he will give us the newsfrom Gaul and of the other countries that he has visited."
"Besides, it will be a great joy to my sister Hena who is to come hometo-morrow for the feast of her birthday."
"Oh, Guilhern, I never thought of the pleasure that my beloved daughterwill have listening to the stranger! He must be our guest!"
"That he shall be, father! Indeed, he shall!" answered Guilhernresolutely.
Joel and his son alighted from the chariot, and advanced towards therider. Once close to him, both were struck with the majesty of thestranger's looks. Nothing haughtier than his eyes, more masculine thanhis face, more worthy than his bearing. On his forehead and on one cheekwere visible the traces of two wounds only freshly healed. To judge byhis dauntless appearance, the rider must have been one of those chiefswhom the tribes elect from time to time to lead them in battle. Joel andhis son were all the more anxious to have him accept their hospitality.
"Friend traveler," said Joel, "night is upon us; you have lost your way;the road you are on leads nowhere but to the desert strands; the tidewill soon be washing over them because the wind is blowing high. To keepon your route by night would be dangerous. Come to my house. You mayresume your journey to-morrow."
"I have not lost my way; I know where I am going to; and I am in ahurry. Turn your oxen aside; make room for me to pass," was the brusqueanswer of the rider, whose forehead was wet with perspiration from thehurry of his course. By his accent he seemed to be from central Gaul,towards the Loire. After having thus addressed Joel, he struck hislarge black horse with both heels in the flanks and tried to draw stillnearer to the oxen that now completely barred his passage.
"Friend traveler, did you not hear me?" rejoined Joel. "I told you thatthis road led only to the seashore, that night was on, and that I offeryou my house."
The stranger, however, beginning to wax angry, replied: "I do not needyour hospitality.... Draw your oxen aside.... Do you not see that therocks leave me no passage either way?... Hurry up; I am in haste--"
"Friend," said Joel, "you are a stranger; I am of this country; it is myduty to prevent you from going astray.... I shall do my duty--"
"By Ritha-Gaur, who made himself a blouse out of the beard of the kingshe shaved!" cried the stranger, now in towering rage. "I have traveled adeal since my beard began to grow, have seen many countries, manypeoples and many strange customs, but never yet have I come across twofools like these!"
Learning from the mouth of the stranger himself that he had seen manycountries, many peoples and many strange customs, Joel and his son, bothof whom were passionately fond of hearing stories, concluded that manyand charming must be the ones the stranger could tell, and they felt allthe more desirous of securing such a guest. Accordingly, so far fromturning the chariot aside, Joel advanced close to the rider, and said tohim with the sweetest voice that he could master, his natural voicebeing rather rough:
"Friend, you shall go no further! I wish to be respectful to the gods,above all to Teutates, the god of travelers, and shall therefore keepyou from going astray by making you spend a good night under a goodroof, instead of allowing you to wander about the strand, where youwould run the risk of being drowned in the rising tide."
"Take care!" replied the unknown rider carrying his hand to the axe thathung from his belt. "Take care!... If you do not forthwith turn youroxen aside, I shall make a sacrifice to the gods, and shall join you tothe offering!"
"The gods cannot choose but protect such a worshipper as yourself,"answered Joel, who, smiling, had passed a few words in a low voice tohis son. "The gods will prevent you from spending the night on thestrand.... You'll see--"
Father and son precipitated themselves unexpectedly upon the traveler.Each took him by a leg, and both being large and robust men, raised himerect over his saddle, giving at the same time a thump with their kneesto his horse's belly. The animal ran ahead, and Joel and Guilhernrespectfully lowered the rider on his feet to the ground. Now in a wildrage, the traveler tried to resist, but before he could draw his knifehe was held fast by Joel and Guilhern, one of whom produced a strongrope with which they firmly tied the stranger's feet and hands--all ofwhich was done with great mildness and affability on the part of thestory-greedy father and son, who despite the furious wrestling of thestranger, deposited him on the chariot with increasing respect andpoliteness, seeing they were increasingly struck by the virile dignityof his face.
Guilhern then mounted the traveler's horse and followed the chariot thatJoel led, urg
ing on the oxen with his goad. They were in earnest hasteto reach the shelter of their house: the gale increased; the roar of thewaves was heard dashing upon the rocks along the coast; streaks oflightning glistened through the darkening clouds; all the signsportended a stormy night.
All these threatening signs notwithstanding, the unknown rider seemednowise thankful for the hospitality that Joel and his son had pressedupon him. Extended on the bottom of the chariot he was pale with rage.He ground his teeth and puffed at his mouth. But keeping his anger tohimself he said not a word. Joel (it must be admitted) passionatelyloved a story, but he also passionately loved to talk. He turned to thestranger:
"My guest, for such you are now, I give thanks to Teutates, the god oftravelers, for having sent me a guest. You should know who I am. Yes, Imust tell you who I am, seeing you are to sit down at my hearth;" andunaffected by the stranger's gesture of anger, which seemed to say hecared not to know who Joel was, the latter proceeded:
"My name is Joel ... I am the son of Marik, who was the son of Kirio ...Kirio was the son of Tiras ... Tiras was the son of Gomer ... Gomer wasthe son of Vorr ... Vorr was the son of Glenan ... Glenan, son of Erer,who was the son of Roderik, chosen brenn of the confederated Gallicarmy, who two hundred and seventy-six years ago levied tribute upon Romein order to punish the Romans for their treachery. I have been chosenbrenn of my tribe, which is the tribe of Karnak. From father to son wehave been peasants; we cultivate our fields as best we can, followingthe example left by Coll to our ancestors.... We sow more wheat andbarley than rye and oats."
The stranger continued nursing his rage rather than paying any attentionto these details. Joel continued imperturbably:
"Thirty-two years ago, I married Margarid, the daughter of Dorlern. Ihave from her three sons and a daughter. The elder boy is there behindus, leading your good black horse, friend guest ... his name isGuilhern. He and several other relatives help me in the cultivation ofour field. I raise a good many black sheep that pasture on our meadows,as well as half-wild hogs, as vicious as wolves and who never sleepunder a roof.... We have some fine meadows in this valley of Alre.... Ialso raise horses, colts of my spirited stallion Tom-Bras.[B] My sonamuses himself raising war and hunting dogs. The hunting dogs are of thebreed of a greyhound named Tyntammar; the ones destined for war are thewhelps of a large mastiff named Deber-Trud.[C] Our horses and our dogsare so renowned that people come more than twenty leagues from here tobuy them. So you see, my guest, that you might have fallen into a worsehouse."
[B] Ardent.
[C] Man-eater.
The stranger emitted a sigh of suppressed rage, bit what he could reachof his long blonde mustache and raised his eyes to heaven.
Joel proceeded while pricking his oxen:
"Mikael, my second son, is an armorer at Alre, four leagues fromhere.... He does not fashion war implements only, but also plow-coultersand long Gallic scythes and axes that are highly prized, because hedraws his iron from the mountains of Arres.... But there is more, friendtraveler.... Mikael does other things besides. Before establishinghimself at Alre, he was at Bourges and worked with one of our parentswho is a descendant of the first artisan who ever conceived the idea ofalloying iron and copper with block-tin, a composition in which theartisans of Bourges excel.... Thus my son Mikael came away a worthypupil of his masters. Oh, if you only saw the things he turns out! Youwould think the horse's bits, the chariot ornaments, the superb casquesof war that Mikael manufactures to be of silver! He has just finished acasque the point of which represents an elk's head with its horns....There is nothing more magnificent!"
"O!" murmured the stranger between his teeth, "how true is the saying:'The Sword of a Gaul kills but once, his tongue massacres you withoutend!'"
"Friend guest, so far I can bestow no praise upon your tongue, which isas silent as a fish's. But I shall await your leisure, when it will beyour turn to tell me who you are, whence you come, where you are goingto, what you have seen in your travels, what wonderful people you havemet, and the latest news from the sections of Gaul that you havetraversed. While waiting for your narratives, I shall finish informingyou about myself and family."
At this threat the stranger contorted his members in an effort to snaphis bonds; he failed; the rope was staunch, and Joel as well as his sonmade perfect knots.
"I have not yet spoken to you of my third son Albinik the sailor,"continued Joel. "He traffics with the island of Great Britanny, as wellas all the ports of Gaul, and he goes as far as Spain carrying Gasconywines and salted provisions from Aquitaine.... Unfortunately he has beenat sea a long time with his lovely wife Meroe; so you will not see themthis evening at my house. I told you that besides three sons I had adaughter ... as to her! Oh, as to her!... See here," added Joel with anair that was at once boastful and tender, "she is the pearl of thefamily.... It is not I only who say so, my wife also, my sons, my wholetribe says the same thing. There is but one voice to sing the praises ofHena, the daughter of Joel ... of Hena, one of the virgins of the Isleof Sen."
"What!" cried the traveler sitting up with a start, the only motionallowed to him by his bonds, that held his feet tied and his armspinioned behind him. "What? Your daughter? Is she one of the virgins ofthe Isle of Sen?"
"That seems to astonish and somewhat mollify you, friend guest!"
"Your daughter?" the stranger proceeded, as if unable to believe what heheard. "Your daughter?... Is she one of the nine druid priestesses ofthe Isle of Sen?"
"As true as that to-morrow it will be eighteen years since she was born!We have been preparing to celebrate her birthday, and you may attend thefeast. The guest seated at our hearth is of our family.... You will seemy daughter. She is the most beautiful, the sweetest, the wisest of hercompanions, without thereby detracting from any of them."
"Very well, then," brusquely replied the unknown, "I shall pardon youthe violence you committed upon me."
"Hospitable violence, friend."
"Hospitable, or not, you prevented me by force from proceeding to thewharf of Erer, where a boat awaited me until sunset, to take me to theIsle of Sen."
At these words Joel broke out laughing.
"What are you laughing about?" asked the stranger.
"If you were to tell me that a boat with the head of a dog, the wings ofa bird and the tail of a fish was waiting for you to take you to thesun, I would laugh as loud, and for the same reason. You are my guest; Ishall not insult you by telling you that you lie. But I will tell you,friend, you are joking when you talk of a boat that is to take you tothe Isle of Sen. No man, excepting the very oldest druids, have ever orever will set foot on the Isle of Sen."
"And when you go there to see your daughter?"
"I do not step on the isle. I stop at the little island of Kellor. ThereI wait for my daughter, and she goes there to meet me."
"Friend Joel," said the traveler, "you have so willed it that I be yourguest; I am that, and, as such, I ask a service of you. Take meto-morrow in your boat to the little island of Kellor."
"Do you know that the ewaghs watch day and night?"
"I know it. It was one of them who was to come for me this evening atthe wharf of Erer to conduct me to Talyessin the oldest of the druids,who, at this hour, is at the Isle of Sen with his wife Auria."
"That is true!" exclaimed Joel much surprised. "The last time mydaughter came home she said that Talyessin was on the isle since the newyear, and that the wife of Talyessin tendered her a mother's care."
"You see, you may believe me, friend Joel. Take me to-morrow to theisland of Kellor; I shall see one of the ewaghs."
"I consent. I shall take you to the island of Kellor."
"And now you may loosen my bonds. I swear by Hesus that I shall not seekto elude your hospitality."
"Very well," responded Joel, loosening the stranger's bonds; "I trust myguest's promise."
While this conversation proceeded it had grown pitch dark. But thedarkness notwithstanding and the difficulties of the road, the chari
ot,conducted by the sure hand of Joel, rolled up before his house. His son,Guilhern, who, mounted on the stranger's horse, had followed the van,took an ox-horn that was opened at both ends, and using it for a trumpetblew three times. The signal was speedily answered by a great barking ofdogs.
"Here we are at home!" said Joel to the stranger. "Be not alarmed at thebarking of the dogs. Listen! That loud voice that dominates all theothers is Deber-Trud's, from whom descends the valiant breed of war dogsthat you will see to-morrow. My son Guilhern will take your horse to thestable. The animal will find a good shelter and plenty of provender."
At the sound of Guilhern's trump, one of the family came out of thehouse holding a resin torch. Guided by the light, Joel led his oxen andthe chariot entered the yard.
