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

by Eugène Sue

  CHAPTER III.

  FATHER CLEMENT'S REFECTORY.

  "Seigneur," said Father Clement to Charles, as he precipitately brokeinto the room, "I have just discovered a plot! The young princeobstinately refused to accompany me hither--"

  "A plot! Ho, ho! The folks of your abbey indulge in conspiracies!"

  "Thanks be to heaven, seigneur, myself and brothers are utter strangersto the unworthy treason. The guilty ones are the miserable slaves whowill be punished as they deserve!"

  "Explain yourself! And stop circumlocutions!"

  "I must first of all inform you, sir, that when the young prince firstarrived at this convent, Count Hugh who brought him, recommended to meto place near the child some young female slave, a pretty girl, ifpossible, above all one that would provoke love ... and who would bewilling to submit to the consequences--"

  "In order, I suppose, that he be educated after the fashion that oldQueen Brunhild followed towards her own grandchildren.... Count Hughexceeded my orders; and you, holy man, did you not blush at the role ofcoupler in the infamous scheme?"

  "Oh, seigneur! What an abomination! The two children remained pure asangels.... To make it short, I placed a young female slave near theprince. The girl, an innocent creature, together with her father andmother took pity on the fate of Childeric. They listened to detestablepropositions, and this very night and by means of a rope, the child wasto slip from his room with the connivance of the porter slave, and joinsome faithful adherents of the deceased King Thierry who are lying inhiding near the convent. That was the plot."

  "Ha! Ha! The old royal party is stirring! They thought I would be longkept busy with the Arabs! They planned to restore the royalty in myabsence!"

  "A minute ago, as I entered the room of the young prince, my suspicionswere awakened. The confusion he was in and the redness in his face toldof his guilt. He would not take his eyes from his bed. A sudden ideaoccurred to me. I raised the mattress, and there I found a ropecarefully stowed away. I pressed the child with questions, and amidsttears he confessed to me the full project of escape."

  "Treason!" cried the chief of the Franks, affecting more rage than hereally felt. "How came I to confide this child to the care of monks whoare either traitors or incapable of defending their prisoner!"

  "Oh, seigneur!... We traitors!"

  "How many men did this abbey contribute to the army?"

  "Seigneur, our colonists and slaves are hardly enough to cultivate theland; our vines are neglected; our fields lie fallow. We could not sparea single man for the army."

  "How much did you pay into the treasury towards the expenses of thewar?"

  "All our revenues were employed in charitable works ... in piousfoundations."

  "You extend fat charities to yourselves. Such are these churchmen!Always receiving and taking, never giving or returning! Ye are a race ofvipers! Under whom does this old abbey hold the land?"

  "From the liberalities of the pious King Dagobert. The charter of ourendowment is of the year 640 of our Lord Jesus Christ."

  "Do you, monk, believe that the Frankish kings made these endowments toyou of the tonsured fraternity to the end that you might grow fat inidleness and abundance, and without ever contributing towards theexpenses of the war with either men or money?"

  "Seigneur ... remember the obligations of the monastery ... keep in mindthe expenses of the cult!"

  "I confide an important prisoner to you and you prove unable to watchhim ... you miserable tonsured idlers ... topers and do-nothings!"

  "Seigneur, we are innocent and incapable of betraying you!"

  "That will never do. I shall settle soldiers on the domain ... men whowill be able to watch the prisoner, and, when need be, defend the abbey,if the folks of the royal party should attempt to carry off the princeby force," and turning to Berthoald, Charles said: "You and your menwill take possession of this abbey. I present it to you!"

  The abbot raised his hands to heaven in sign of mute desolation, whileBerthoald, who had pensively stood near, said to Charles Martel:

  "Charles, the commission of jailor is repugnant to my character of asoldier. I feel thankful to you, but I must decline the gift."

  "Your refusal afflicts me. You have heard the monk. I need here avigilant guardian. This abbey is, by its position, an important militarypost."

  "Charles, there are other soldiers in your army whom you can charge withthe child and to whom you can confide the defence of the post. You willfind men enough who will not be restrained by any scruples such asrestrain me."

  For a few minutes the chief of the Franks remained silent andthoughtful, then he said: "Monk, how much land, how many colonists andslaves have you?"

  "Seigneur, we have five thousand eight hundred acres of land, sevenhundred colonists, and nineteen hundred slaves."

  "Berthoald ... you hear it! That is what you decline for yourself andyour men. Moreover, I would have created you count of the domain."

  "Reserve for others than myself the favor you meant to bestow upon me. Iabsolutely refuse the function of jailor."

  "Seigneur," put in Father Clement with a holy resignation that, however,but ill-concealed his anger at Charles: "You are the chief of the Franksand all-powerful. If you establish your armed men on this domain, weshall have to obey, but what will become of us?"

  "And what will become of my companions in arms, who have valiantlyserved me during the war while you were counting your beads?... Are theyto steal or beg their bread along the roads?"

  "Seigneur ... there is a way of satisfying both your companions in armsand ourselves. You wish to change this abbey into a military post. Iadmit it, your armed men would be better keepers of the young princethan we poor monks. But since you dispose of this abbey, deign,illustrious seigneur, to bestow another one upon us. There is nearNantes the abbey of Meriadek. One of our brothers, who died recently,lived there several years as the intendant. He left with us an inventorycontaining an exact list of the goods and persons of that abbey. It wasat the time under the rule of St. Benoit. We have learned that later itwas changed into a community of women. But we have no positiveinformation on that head. But that would matter little."

  "And that abbey," Charles asked, rubbing his beard with a sly look, "youask me for it as a charity to you and your monks?"

  "Yes, seigneur; since you dispossess us of this one, we solicitindemnity."

  "And what is to become of the present holders of the abbey of Meriadek?"

  "Alack! what we would have become. The will of God be done. Charitybegins at home."

  "Yes, provided the will of God turn in your favor. Is the abbey rich?"

  "Seigneur, with the aid of God, we could live there humbly and inseclusion and prayer and with a little privation."

  "Monk, no false pretences! Is that abbey worth more or is it worth lessthan this one? I wish to know whether it is a cow or a goat I am givingaway. If you deceive me, I may some day go back upon my gift. Moreover,you just said you had an exact inventory of the abbey's havings. Come,speak up, you old dotard!"

  "Yes, seigneur," answered the abbot biting his lips and proceeding tolook in a drawer among several rolls of parchment for the inventory ofthe abbey of Meriadek. "Here," said he, producing the document, "youwill see from this that the revenues of Meriadek are worth about as muchas those that we draw here.... We may even, by retrenching upon our goodworks, by reducing our charities, contribute two hundred gold sousannually to your treasury."

  "You say that rather late," replied Charles turning the leaves of theinventory which did, indeed, accurately set forth the extent and limitsof the domain of Meriadek. "Have you parchments to write on? I wish tomake the bequest in due form."

  "Yes, seigneur," cried the monk in great glee, running to his trunk andbelieving himself in full possession of the abbey of Meriadek. "Here isa roll of parchment, gracious seigneur. Be kind enough to dictate theterms of the bequest ... unless you prefer to adopt the usual formula."

  Saying this the abbot was
about to sit down and take pen in hand, when,pushing him away from the table, Charles said: "Monk, I am not like thedo-nothing and ignorant kings; I know how to write; and I like totransact my business myself."

  Consulting from time to time the parchments that the abbot had handed tohim, and from time to time casting a look upon Berthoald, who hadremained steeped in thought and a stranger to what was going on nearhim, Charles began to write. A few steps from the table, and followingthe hand of Charles with greedy eyes, the monk was congratulatinghimself upon his having thought of the abbey of Meriadek, and he nodoubt was computing the advantage that would accrue to himself by theexchange. Addressing the chief of the Franks, who was silently writing,the monk said: "Mighty seigneur, my names are Bonaventure Clement, anunworthy priest and monk of the order of St. Benoit."

  Charles raised his head, looked fixedly at the abbot and a singularsmile played around his lips. He then proceeded to write, and a fewminutes later said: "Wax!... I wish to place my seal on this charter asa last formality."

  The abbot hastened to fetch what he was ordered; Charles pulled from hisfinger a large gold ring and placed it on the burning wax. "Now thecharter of the bequest is in good shape."

  "Gracious seigneur," cried the abbot extending his hands, "we shallevery day pray that heaven may protect you."

  "You have my thanks, monk; disinterested prayers are particularlyagreeable to the Almighty;" and turning towards his young officer:"Berthoald, by this charter I make you count of the county of Nantes,and I donate to you and your men the abbey of Meriadek, together withits dependencies."

  The abbot remained petrified. Berthoald trembled with joy, and cried inaccents of profound gratitude: "Charles, will your generosity nevertire?"

  "No, no, my valiant boy! No more than your arm tires in battle.... Andnow, to horse, noble count. Should the abbey of Meriadek turn out to bea convent of tonsured friars with some fighting abbot at their head whorefuses to make room for you, you have your sword; your men have theirlances. If it happens to be a convent of women and that the nuns areyoung and handsome, by the devil!--"

  Again the conversation in the monk's refectory was suddenly broken inupon; this time by Septimine.