Collected Works of Eugène Sue

by Eugène Sue

  CHAPTER IX.

  THE NORTHMAN SEA-KING.

  ROLF, THE SEA-KING and supreme Chief of the Northman pirates, was a man far advanced in years. His beard and hair, naturally of a yellow blonde, were heavily streaked with grey. Numerous scars criss-crossed his face, which was of a brick-red hue, tanned and copper-colored by the sun and the sea air. His physiognomy was rendered hideous by a saber cut that put out his left eye and cut his nose off to the bone. His single eye glistened like a burning coal under its bushy eye-brow; his heavy lips, half-hidden under his bristling moustache and by his shaggy beard, imparted to his mouth a scoffing and sensuous expression. Rolf was of middle size and of athletic frame. His arms were abnormally long. Like his champions, the Northman Chieftain wore an armor of iron scales. But, in order to feast and frolic more at ease, he had doffed his cuirass, and now kept on only a jacket of reindeer-skin, blackened at several places by the friction of his armor, and that fell open from time to time, exposing his shirt and, under his shirt, a chest as hirsute as that of the bears of the northern sea. The pirate chieftain was just finishing his repast. Canons and a few other surviving dignitaries of the abbot served Rolf upon their knees. The friars looked haggard and were pale with fear. He allowed them to move about only on all fours, or upon their knees when they were wanted to reach out dishes and wine cups to him. Every time that the movements of these servitors seemed too slow, either the pirates themselves, or former serfs of the abbey, who now saw their opportunity to avenge the ill-treatments that they had been subjected to, quickened, with kicks and sticks, the motions of the holy men.

  Rolf, just finishing his sumptuous feast, seemed to be in great good humor. Half seas over with the old wines of Gaul, he was indulging himself in the well upholstered easy-chair of the abbot. He had just placed a woman on each knee, when, back from his call upon the Beautiful Shigne, and at ease concerning her recovery, Gaëlo entered the banquet-hall, accompanied by Eidiol, Rustic and the other skippers whom he was to present to Rolf.

  “So the priests of this place were keeping you prisoners!” remarked Rolf to the skippers while wiping with the back of his hand his thick moustache, still wet with wine. “You should side with us against the church rats and the castle falcons!”

  “We river-pikes can escape the rats and the falcons easy enough,” answered Eidiol. “Nevertheless, we love to see the falcons transfixed with arrows, and the rats drowned in their traps. We applaud your victory over the monks of St. Denis.”

  “Are you of the city of Paris?”

  “Yes, seigneur; I am the dean of the Skippers’ Guild.”

  “Will the Parisians defend their city?”

  “If you injure the poor folks, yes; if, however, all you mean to do is to burn down the churches, levy ransoms on the rich abbeys and on the palaces of the Frankish seigneurs, then the people will not budge.”

  “So, then, the good people of Paris will offer us no resistance. That will be wise on their part. What with the reserve that I shall leave in this fortified abbey, and my two thousand vessels that will ascend the Seine as far as Paris, resistance could come neither from Count Rothbert nor from Charles the Simple. Your King will pay us ransom, after which we shall wing our flight towards the North on the tracks of the swans, — unless I should take it into my head to settle down in this country of Gaul, the same as my comrade Hastain did when he settled down in the country of Chartres. He! He! my champions! I am growing old. Perhaps I should settle down in this country, in some fat province rich in pretty girls and good wine! Oh, my champions! As our saga sings: ‘I am an old sea-crow; for nearly forty years I have grazed with my wings the fresh waters of rivers and the briny waves of the sea’. Now, then, there must be an end of this, my brave champions! Charles the Simple has a daughter called Ghisèle. She is a girl of fourteen, and pretty enough to make one’s head swim. Maybe I shall take the daughter of Charles the Simple to wife and demand of him a whole province for dower. What think you of this project?”

  No less intoxicated than their chieftain, the pirates emitted loud roars of laughter and answered vociferously:

  “We shall drink to your wedding, old Rolf! A handsome maid belongs in your couch. Glory to the husband of Ghisèle, the daughter of Charles the Simple.”

  “The old brigand is drunk as a thrush in autumn, Master Eidiol; what wild scheme is that which he pursues?” whispered Rustic to the old skipper.

  A great tumult interrupted the answer. The noise proceeded from without, it grew louder and approached the apartment. Imprecations and threats were vociferated wildly. Presently the door burst open and several pirates rushed in, dragging after them Guyrion the Plunger, his face bathed in blood.

  “My son!” cried Eidiol running towards the lad. “My son is wounded!”

  “And your mother — your sister — where are they?” added Rustic, rushing upon the heels of the old skipper. “Oh! I fear me a great misfortune has happened!”

  “These bandits have killed my mother from whose arms they strove to drag my sister,” answered Guyrion in despair. “I sought to defend them — these men struck me over the head with a saber and knocked me senseless!”

  “My wife dead!” exclaimed the old man stupefied; and turning to the chieftain of the pirates, he cried out in a thundering voice: “Rolf! Justice! Justice! I demand vengeance!”

  “Yes, Rolf, justice and vengeance!” cried several of the pirates who rushed in with Guyrion. “This dog whom we bring here to you has killed one of our companions. We want justice!”

  Rolf, more and more under the influence of the heady wine, seeing that he continued to empty cup after cup, answered in a husky voice: “Yes, my champions; I shall order that justice be done. Only let me finish this flagon of wine.”

  At the same moment other pirates rushed in. They carried Anne the Sweet unconscious in their arms and deposited her at the feet of the Northman chieftain saying:

  “Old Rolf, here is a beautiful girl that we have reserved for you. She belongs to your part of the booty.”

  Eidiol, Rustic, Guyrion and the other skippers in their company ran to the rescue of Anne, but they were violently repelled and held back by the pirates.

  “My champions, I shall administer justice!” cried Rolf from his seat in a maudlin voice; and addressing himself to Guyrion the Plunger, who, forgetful of his wound that bathed his forehead in blood, looked alternately with despairing eyes from his father to his sister who lay prostrate in a swoon: “Who are you? Where do you come from? Answer, young man!”

  “He is my son,” answered Eidiol, choking with rage. “He is a skipper, like myself, and he came to join me at the abbey, where I was retained a prisoner.”

  “And as truly as I have managed the oar since my childhood,” cried Rustic, “seeing that you, Rolf, and your men, ill-treat us poor people in such a manner, our Skippers’ Guild will call the other guilds of Paris to arms against you.”

  Rolf received the threat with a loud roar of laughter. He rose, and trying to steady himself upon his feet answered in a voice frequently interrupted by hiccoughs:

  “I pardon all these fellows; but I shall keep the girl. And now, you, Parisians, return to your city; you are free. I forbid my champions do you the least harm.”

  “Rolf!” cried Eidiol imploringly, “return my daughter to me! Allow us to carry away in our vessel the body of my wife!”

  “My champions, cast these dogs out at the gate of the abbey, and let them hurry to announce to Charles the Simple that — I want — to marry his daughter Ghisèle — Yes, I want that maid for my wife.”

  “Yes, yes! You shall wed the princess!” cried the pirates, delighted at the whim of their chief; and dragging the Parisian skippers despite all the resistance that they offered, drove them out of the abbey of St. Denis at the point of their swords.

  CHAPTER X.

  ROLF’S COURTSHIP.

  THE LARGE FLEET of the pirates pulled from the banks on which the abbey of St. Denis rose, and, driven by a favorable w
ind, steered for Paris since early sunrise of the next morning. The fleet numbered more than two thousand vessels, carrying twenty-five thousand combatants. The sailing order was determined by the river’s channel. The light vessels of the draft of holkers navigated close to the two banks; toward the center of the river sailed the “snekars”, vessels with twenty oarsmen’s benches; finally along the deepest part of the channel came the “drekars”, men-of-war that greatly resembled the Roman galleys. Thick sheets of iron defended the flanks of the latter; a “kastali”, a semicircular wooden tower from eight to ten feet high, rose at their poop. Posted upon the platform of these towers, the Northmans hurled against their foe stones, bolts, javelins, fire-brands, heavy beams of wood, and also fragile little vases filled with a corrosive dust that blinded whoever sought to board them, while other pirates, armed with long scythes, cut the cordage of the hostile ships.

  The Northman vessels, that, ascending the Seine, made sail for Paris, covered the river from bank to bank, and a full league in length. Its waters disappeared under the mass of craft of all sizes, and all filled with pirates. As the fleet moved up it presented the aspect of a huge swarm of men, of casques, of arms, of cuirasses, of bucklers and of uncouth figures, painted or gilded and placed either at the prow or the poop of the vessels, sometimes on the tops of the masts. Pavilions of all colors surmounted with large painted streamers on which fabulous animals were depicted — winged dragons, double-headed eagles, fishes with the heads of lions, and other monsters — floated in the wind. The savage war-songs of the Northmans resounded far and wide, and were answered by and mingled with the joyful cries of the revolted serfs who followed the banks of the river and regulated their march by the progress of the fleet. At last the Northmans reached a part of the river whence were seen in the distance, across the evening haze, the steeples, towers and walls of the city of Paris, enclosed within a fortified island, at the extremity of which rose the cathedral. On the opposite sides, and along either arm of the river, where the open fields and the suburbs lay, the belfries of churches were discernible, as well as the numerous buildings of the abbeys of St. Germain-d’Auxerre, St. Germain-des-Prés, and St. Etienne-des-Grès, while further away along the distant horizon loomed the high hill on which stood the basilica of St. Geneviève. At the sight of the city that had during the last century been so often attacked, ravaged, pillaged and levied ransom upon by the men of their race, the Northmans uttered wild shouts of triumph, and cried out: “Paris!” “Paris!”

  The fleet was headed by the drekar of Rolf the Sea-King. This vessel was named Grimsnoth. Rolf captured it from another pirate after a murderous combat. According to the saga of Gothrek, Grimsnoth surpassed the other drekars of the seas of the North by its beauty and size as much as Rolf himself surpassed the other pirates by his valor. Indeed, never yet was ship seen comparable with Grimsnoth. The drekar resembled a gigantic dragon, whose copper head and scaly neck protruded from the prow that represented the monster’s massive breast equipped with two folded and gilded wings, thrown backward and fashioned in such manner as to represent the coil of the marine monster’s tail. In the middle of the huge square red sail of the drekar another dragon was designed. At its poop rose the kastali — the little semicircular fortress in itself, constructed of strong smooth beams circled by iron bands and pierced by narrow loop-holes through which the archers on the inside could shoot their darts from cover, in case the foe attempted to board the drekar. A wide platform, spacious enough to hold twenty armed men, crowned the fortification, and had a belt of iron bucklers for its parapet.

  Old Rolf stood erect on top of his kastali. His mien was savage. It looked inspired. His weapon and hands streamed blood. At his feet, stretched out in a pool of blood, and still palpitating with its ebbing life, lay the body of a white horse that was taken from the stables of the Abbot of St. Denis, bound by the four feet, and raised with the aid of pulleys and cordage to the platform of the kastali in order to be there solemnly sacrificed to Odin and the gods of the North. When the sacrifice was done, the old pirate took his ivory horn and blew three times, giving a particular intonation to each blast. The chief of each vessel put his horn to his own lips and repeated the signal given by Rolf. Thus the signal ran from mouth to mouth, from one end of the fleet to the other. The war-songs of the pirates were hushed, and immediately, obedient to the order given by the blast from their chief’s horn, the Northmans maneuvered their sails in such manner that their vessels remained motionless on the current of the stream. The holkers of Gaëlo and of Shigne served as scouts to the drekar of Rolf and sailed a little distance ahead of him. The old pirate hailed the two young leaders and ordered them to board his drekar. Both obeyed and crossed over a narrow plank furnished with solid cramp-irons that was thrown out to each of the holkers from the sides of Grimsnoth. The Buckler Maiden, still pale from the loss of blood, wore her head bandaged under the iron hair-net that she used for a casque. At the moment when she was about to ascend the kastali of Rolf, Gaëlo said to the heroine:

  “Shigne, war has its hazards; I may be killed to-morrow. Become my wife this night. Let our union be consummated.”

  The Buckler Maiden blushed; her eyes, that never before were dropped at the sight of man, now felt veiled by a mist before the ardent gaze of Gaëlo; in a low and trembling voice she answered:

  “Gaëlo, you vanquished me; I belong to you; I am proud that I do; I could belong to no braver man. Rolf has been a father to me. I should consult him on your request. If he says yes, I will say yes, and from to-night I shall be yours.” Without another word the warrior maid preceded Gaëlo to the platform of the kastali where the old pirate stood awaiting them.

  “Gaëlo,” said Rolf, “you and Shigne shall precede the fleet; ply your oars and reach Paris with your two holkers.”

  “Never shall I have obeyed you with greater joy.”

  “Order yourselves to be conducted before the Count of Paris. Shigne is to say to him: ‘The King of the Franks has a young and handsome daughter. Rolf demands that daughter in marriage.’” The pirate thereupon rubbed his beard, laughed aloud with his usual roar, and added: “I have taken it into my head to wed a maid of royal race!” And addressing Gaëlo, the pirate continued: “As to you, Gaëlo, you shall tell the Count of Paris that I shall want, together with the daughter, and for dower, the territory of Neustria. It is a rich and fertile region, and it is washed by the sea, exactly suitable to a mariner who loves the ocean. Old Hastain obtained from Charles the Bald the country of Chartres; Rolf, the Chief of the Northmans will have Neustria, which we shall call Northmandy, and where I shall establish you both, my champions!”

  “We shall carry your orders to the Count of Paris, who, for all answer, will have us stabbed, both of us, Shigne and myself.”

  “By Odin, he will not dare to! You will tell the count that my fleet will cast anchor under the walls of Paris; and that if, to-morrow, before sunset, you and Shigne are not back on my drekar, I shall set the city on fire, sack it, and kill all its inhabitants. If to-morrow, before the close of day, Charles the Simple has not granted me his daughter, Neustria, and ten thousand pounds of silver for the ransom of Paris, there will be left not one stone upon the other in the city. That is my message.”

  “Rolf, we shall immediately depart to carry out your orders. To-morrow we shall be either dead or back to you before sunset. I have requested Shigne to accept me for her husband this very night. She answered saying: ‘I shall say yes, if Rolf says yes, and from to-night I shall be yours.’!”

  “Gaëlo,” answered the old pirate with a sly look, “will wed the Beautiful Shigne the day that Rolf weds Ghisèle, the daughter of the King of the Franks! Go on the mission that I have charged you with — duty and love, each in its season.”

  CHAPTER XI.

  BRENN — KARNAK.

  UPON QUITTING THE drekar of Rolf, Shigne and Gaëlo reembarked upon their own holkers and ordered their oarsmen to ply their oars vigorously. The two holkers glided swiftly over t
he water and they were steered towards the fortified point of the island where Paris was situated. The rest of the fleet followed slowly behind.

  “Gaëlo,” said Simon Large-Ears, keeping in swing with the quick and vigorous stroke of his companions, “just look at those bands of serfs who have been following us along the river bank since yesterday. Look at them running like a pack of wolves hungering for the abbeys that we see strewn hither and thither.”

  “I fear they mean to start the pillaging without waiting for us!” exclaimed Robin Jaws in a tone of lamentation, which was soon joined by the voices of the other pirates, who ceased rowing for a moment in order to cast their angry looks at the ragged rabble rout. The latter, wholly unconcerned by the indignation that they had provoked, ran apace brandishing their staves, their forks and their scythes, and from time to time emitting furious yells.

  “If Lodbrog had not died like a true berserker, such a sight as this would throw the fit of frenzy upon him. What evidences of misery do we not see on all sides!”

  “To your oars, my champions! To your oars!” cried Gaëlo. “You need not worry about your share in the pillage. Now, however, row!” saying which Gaëlo pointed to the holker of Shigne which had taken the lead of them, and he added: “Will you allow yourselves to be beaten by the Buckler Maidens? Fall to, champions!”

  Grumbling at Gaëlo’s orders the pirates bent to their oars and strove to overtake the white holker. On the right bank of the Seine there rose large clumps of trees, planted in the middle of wide meadows that belonged to the abbey of St. Germain-des-Prés. On the left side of the river, the bank, which rose much higher than on the opposite side, made a sharp turn and shut off the horizon. From the foot of the slope, a jetty constructed of stones closely set together ran out some fifty feet into the river. It was the breakwater of the port of Grève, now deserted, but where vessels took refuge when the current was strong. Propelled by their oars and steered so as just to clear the jetty, the two holkers were pushing vigorously forward, when, suddenly dashing from behind the further side of the stone structure, a Parisian vessel manned by Eidiol, Guyrion, Rustic the Gay and several other Gallic skippers intercepted the progress of the Northman boats. The men on board the vessel shot a volley of arrows at the Northmans, threw a grappling iron into the holker nearer to them, which happened to be Gaëlo’s, and as quickly taking up their cutlasses, pikes and axes leaped forward resolutely to the fray, while Eidiol cried out to them: