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

by Eugène Sue

  CHAPTER VII.

  THE MOUSE-TRAP.

  Dawn was about to succeed the night in which Broute-Saule was killed byBerthoald. Profoundly asleep and with his hands pinioned behind hisback, the young chief lay upon the floor of Meroflede's bedchamber.Wrapped in a black cloak, her face pale and half veiled by her now loosethick red hair that almost reached the floor, the abbess proceeded tothe window, holding in her hand a lighted torch of rosin. Leaning overthe sill whence the horizon could be seen at a distance, the abbesswaved her torch three times, while intently looking towards the eastwhich began to be tinted with the approaching day. After a few minutes,the light of a large flame, that rose from a distance behind theretreating shades of night, responded to Meroflede's signal. Herfeatures beamed with sinister joy. She dropped her torch into the moatthat surrounded the monastery, and then proceeded to awaken Berthoald byshaking him rudely. Berthoald was with difficulty drawn from hislethargy. He sought to take his hand to his forehead, but found that hewas pinioned. He raised himself painfully upon his leaden feet, andstill unclear of mind he contemplated Meroflede in silence. The abbessextended her bare arms towards the horizon, that dawn was feeblylighting, and said: "Do you see yonder, far away, the narrow road thatcrosses the pond and prolongs itself as far as the outer works of theabbey?"

  "Yes," said Berthoald, struggling against the strange torpor that stillparalyzed his mind and will, without thereby wholly clouding hisintellect; "yes, I see the road surrounded by water on all sides."

  "Did not your companions in arms camp on that road during the night?"

  "I think so," replied the young chief, seeking to collect his confusedthoughts; "last evening ... my companions--"

  "Listen!" put in the abbess nervously and placing her hand upon theyoung man's shoulder. "Listen ... what do you hear from the side onwhich the sun is about to rise?"

  "I hear a great rumbling noise ... that seems to draw nearer towards us.It sounds like the rush of waters."

  "Your ear does not deceive you, my valiant warrior;" and leaning uponBerthoald's shoulder: "Yonder, towards the east, lies an immense lakeheld in by dikes and locks."

  "A lake? What of it?"

  "The level of its waters is eight to ten feet above those of theponds.... Do you understand what will follow?"

  "No, my mind is heavy ... I hardly remember ... our charming night ...but why am I pinioned?"

  "For the purpose of checking your joy when, as will soon be the case,you will have recovered your senses.... Now, let us continue ourconfidential chat. You will understand that the moment the dikes arebroken through and the locks opened, the water will rise in these pondsto the extent that they will submerge the narrow road on which yourcompanions encamped for the night with their horses and the carts thatheld their booty and slaves.... Now, watch.... Do you notice how thewater is rising? It is now up to the very edge of the jetty.... Withinan hour, the jetty itself will be entirely submerged. Not one of yourcompanions will have escaped death.... If they seek to flee, a deeptrench, cut at my orders over night, will stop their progress.... Notone will escape death.... Do you hear, my handsome prisoner?"

  "All drowned!" murmured Berthoald, still under the dominion of a dullstupor; "all my companions drowned----"

  "Oh, does not yet that new piece of confidential news wake you up?...Let us pass to another thing," and the abbess proceeded with a voice ofringing triumph: "Among the female slaves, taken from Languedoc, thatyour band brought in its train, there was a woman ... who will drownwith the rest, and that woman," said Meroflede, emphasizing each word inthe hope of each being a dagger in Berthoald's heart, "is--your--mother!"

  Berthoald trembled violently, leaped up in his bonds, and vainly soughtto snap them. He uttered a piercing cry, cast a look of despair andterror upon the immense sheet of water that, tinted with the first raysof the rising sun, now extended in every direction. The wretched mancalled aloud: "Oh, my mother!"

  "Now," said Meroflede with savage joy, "the water has almost completelyinvaded the causeway. The tent-cloths that cover the carts can hardly beseen. The flood still rises, and at this very hour your mother isundergoing the agonies of death ... agonies that are more horrible thandeath itself."

  "Oh, demon!" cried the young man, writhing in his bonds. "You lie! Mymother is not there!"

  "Your mother's name is Rosen-Aer, she is forty years of age; she livedone time in the valley of Charolles in Burgundy."

  "Woe! Woe is me!"

  "Fallen into the hands of the Arabs at the time of their invasion ofBurgundy, she was taken to Languedoc as a slave. After the last siege ofNarbonne by Charles, your mother was captured in the vicinity of thetown together with other women. When the division of the booty tookplace, Rosen-Aer having fallen to the lot of your band was brought asfar as here.... If still you should doubt, I shall give you one moretoken. That woman carries on her arm, like you, traced in indelibleletters the two words: '_Brenn_' and '_Karnak_'.... Are these detailsaccurate enough?"

  "Oh, my mother!" cried the unfortunate Berthoald casting upon the watersof the pond a look of most poignant pain.

  "Your mother is now dead.... The jetty has disappeared under the waters,and still they rise.... Aye, your mother was drowned in the coveredcart, where she was held confined with the other slaves."

  "My heart breaks," murmured Berthoald, crushed by the weight of pain anddespair: "My suffering is beyond endurance!"

  "Are you so soon at the end of your strength?" cried Meroflede with apeal of infernal laughter. "Oh! no, no! You have not yet sufferedenough. What! You stupid slave! You Gallic renegade! Cowardly liar, whobrazenly deck yourself with the name of a noble Frank! What, did youimagine vengeance did not boil in my veins because you saw me smile lastevening at the death of my ancestor, who was killed by a bandit of yourrace! Aye! I smiled because I thought how at daybreak I would have youwitness from a distance the death agonies of your own mother! I was butpreparing my vengeance."

  "Monster of lewdness and ferocity!" cried Berthoald, making superhumanefforts to break his bonds. "I must punish you for your crimes!... Yes,by Hesus, I shall throttle you with my own hands!"

  The abbess realized the impotence of Berthoald's fury, shrugged hershoulders and continued: "Your ancestor, the bandit, set fire a centuryand a half ago to the castle of my ancestor, Count Neroweg, and killedhim with an axe. I reply to the fire with the inundation, and I drownyour mother! As to the fate that awaits you, it will be terrible!"

  "Did my mother know that I was the chief of the Franks who took herprisoner?"

  "My vengeance lacked only that!"

  "But who, miserable woman, could have told you what you know about mymother?"

  "The Jew Mordecai."

  "How did he know her? Where did he see her?"

  "At the halt that you made at the convent of St. Saturnine with CharlesMartel; it was there that the Jew recognized you."

  "God was merciful to me! My mother did not live to know my shame. Herdeath would have been doubly terrible.... And now, monster, deliver meof your presence and of life. I am in a hurry to die!"

  "Have patience! I have prepared for you a refined punishment, and aprolonged agony."