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

by Eugène Sue

  CHAPTER VIII.

  THE MIRACLE OF ST. LOUP'S TEETH.

  On the morning of the fateful day when the abbess Meroflede drowned, asin a mouse-trap, the troop of Frankish warriors that had presumed todispossess her, the goldsmith Bonaik entered his workshop at theaccustomed hour. He was soon joined by his slave apprentices. Afterlighting the fire in the forge, the old man opened the window thatlooked over the fosse, to let the smoke escape. With no littleastonishment Bonaik observed that the water in the moat had risen sohigh as to be within a foot of the window sill. "Oh, my lads," said heto the apprentices, "I fear some great calamity happened last night! Forvery many years the water of this moat did not reach the height ofto-day, and then it happened when the dike of the upper lake broke, andcaused widespread disasters. Look yonder at the other end of the moat.The water is almost up to the air-hole cut into the cavern under thebuilding opposite us."

  "And it looks as if the water were still rising, Father Bonaik."

  "Alack, yes, my lad! It is still rising. Oh, the bursting of the dikeswill bring on great calamities. There will be many victims!"

  While Bonaik and his apprentices were looking at the rising water in themoat, the voice of Septimine was heard calling on the outside: "FatherBonaik, open the door of the workshop!" One of the apprentices ran tothe door and the girl entered, supporting a woman whose long hairstreamed with water; her clothes were drenched, her face livid; she wasbarely able to drag herself along; so weak was she that after taking afew steps in the shop she fell fainting in the arms of the old goldsmithand Septimine.

  "Poor woman! She is cold as ice!" exclaimed the old man, and turning tohis apprentices: "Quick, quick boys! Fetch some coal from the vault, plythe bellows and raise the fire in the forge to warm up this unfortunatewoman. I thought so! This inundation must have caused much damage."

  At the words of the goldsmith, two apprentices ran down into the vaultbehind the forge for charcoal, and the other blew upon the fire, whilethe old man approached Septimine, who, on her knees before theunconscious woman, wept and said: "Oh, she is going to die!"

  "Reassure yourself," the old man said; "this poor woman's hands, icycold a minute ago, are becoming warmer. But what has happened? Yourclothes also are drenched. You look strangely shocked."

  "Good father, at daybreak this morning, the girls who sleep in my roomand I woke up and went into the courtyard. There we heard other slavescrying that the dikes had burst. The girls all ran to see the progressof the inundation. I went along without knowing why. They dispersed. Iadvanced to a tongue of land that is washed by the water of the pond. Alarge willow stands near the spot. I presently saw a half-submerged cartfloating a little way off. It was being turned around by the oppositecurrents, and it was covered by a tent-cloth."

  "Thanks be to God! The spreading tent-cloth acted like a balloon andkept the cart from sinking."

  "The wind blew into this sort of a sail, driving the cart towards theshore where I stood. I then saw this unfortunate woman, holding to thetent-cloth, the rest of her body in the water."

  "And what happened then, my daughter?"

  "There was not a second to lose. The failing hands of the poor woman,whose strength was exhausted, were about to drop. I fastened one end ofmy belt to one of the branches of the willow-tree and the other to mywrist and I leaned forward towards the poor woman calling out to her:'Courage!' She heard me, and seized my right hand convulsively. Thesudden pull caused my feet to slip from the edge and I fell into thewater."

  "Fortunately your left wrist was tied to one of the ends of the beltthat you had fastened to the tree!"

  "Yes, good father. But the shock was violent. I thought my arm waswrenched from its socket. Fortunately the poor woman took hold of theedge of my dress. My first pain having passed I did my best, and withthe aid of my belt that remained fastened to the tree and on which Itugged away, I succeeded in reaching the shore and pulling out thiswoman, on the point of drowning. Our workshop being the nearest placethat I could think of, I brought her here; she could hardly supportherself; but, alack!" added the girl at the sight of the still inanimateface of Rosen-Aer, for it was Berthoald's mother that Septimine had justsaved, "I may only have retarded the supreme moment for a few seconds!"

  "Do not lose hope," answered the old man, "her hands are growingwarmer."

  With the aid of the apprentices, who were no less compassionate thanSeptimine and the old man, Rosen-Aer was drawn sitting on a stool nearthe forge. Little by little she felt the salutary effect of thepenetrating heat, she gradually recovered her senses, and finally awoke.Gathering her thoughts, she stretched out her arms to Septimine and saidin a feeble voice: "Dear child, you saved me!"

  Septimine threw herself around Rosen-Aer's neck, shedding glad tears,and answered: "We have done what we could; we are only poor slaves."

  "Oh! my child, I am a slave like yourselves, brought to this countryfrom the center of Languedoc. We spent the night on the road between thetwo ponds of this monastery. The oxen had been unhitched from the carts.We were caught in the inundation that began at daybreak----" ButRosen-Aer suddenly broke off and rose to her feet. Her face was at firstexpressive of stupor, but immediately a delirious joy seized her, andprecipitating herself towards the open window, she passed her armthrough the thick iron bars, crying: "My son! I see my son Amaelyonder!"

  For a moment both Septimine and Bonaik believed the unhappy woman hadbecome demented, but when they approached the window the young girljoined her hands and cried out: "The Frankish Chief, he in anunderground passage of the abbey?"

  Rosen-Aer and Septimine saw on the other side of the moat Berthoaldholding himself up with both hands by the iron bars of the air-hole ofthe cavern. He suddenly saw and as quickly recognized his mother, and,delirious with joy, he cried in a thrilling voice that, despite thedistance, reached the workshop: "Mother!... My dear mother!"

  "Septimine," Bonaik said anxiously to the girl, "do you know that youngman?"

  "Oh, yes! He was as good to me as an angel from Heaven! I saw him at theconvent of St. Saturnine. It is to that warrior that Charles donatedthis abbey."

  "To him!" replied the old man, bewildered. "How, then, comes he in thatcavern?"

  "Master Bonaik," one of the apprentices ran by saying, "I hear outsidethe voice of the intendant Ricarik. He stopped under the vault to scoldsome one. He will be here in a minute. He is coming on his morninground, as is his habit. What is best to be done?"

  "Good God!" cried the old man in terror. "He will find this woman here,and will question her. She may betray herself and acknowledge that sheis the mother of that young man--undoubtedly a victim of the abbess."And the old man, running to the window, seized Rosen-Aer by the arm andsaid to her while he dragged her away: "In the name of your son's life,come! Come quick!"

  "What threatens my son's life?"

  "Follow me, or he is lost, and you also." And Bonaik, without furtherexplanations to Rosen-Aer, pointed out to her the vault behind theforge, saying: "Hide there, do not stir," and turning to his apprenticeswhile he put on his apron: "You, boys, hammer away as loud as you can,and sing at the top of your voices! You, Septimine, sit down and polishthis vase. May God prevent that poor young man from remaining at theair-hole or from being seen by Ricarik!" Saying this the old goldsmithstarted to hammer upon his anvil, striking with a sonorous voice the oldand well-known goldsmith's song in honor of the good Eloi:

  "From the station of artisan He was raised to that of bishop,-- With his duties of pastor, Eloi purified the goldsmith. His hammer is the authority for his word, His furnace the constancy of zeal, His bellows the inspirer, His anvil, obedience!"

  Ricarik entered the workshop. The goldsmith seemed not to notice him,and proceeded with his song while flattening with hammer blows a silverleaf into which the abbatial cross terminated. "You are a jolly set,"remarked the intendant stepping to the center of the workshop; "stopyour singing ... you dogs ... you deafen my ears!"

  "I
have not a drop of blood in my veins," Septimine whispered to Bonaik."That wicked man is drawing near the window.... If he were to see theFrankish chief--"

  "Why have you so much fire in the forge?" the intendant proceeded tosay, taking a step towards the fireplace, behind which was the cave thatRosen-Aer was concealed in. "Do you amuse yourself burning coaluselessly?"

  "No, indeed! This very morning I shall melt the silver that you broughtme yesterday."

  "Metal is melted in crucibles, not in forges--"

  "Ricarik, everyone to his trade. I have worked in the workshops of thegreat Eloi. I know my profession, seigneur intendant. I shall firstsubject my metal to the strong fire of the forge, then hammer it, andonly after that will it be ready for the crucible. The cast will then bemore solid."

  "You never lack for an answer."

  "Because I always have good ones to give. But there are severalnecessary things that I shall want from you for this work, the mostimportant of any that I shall have made for the monastery, seeing thesilver vase is to be two feet high, as you may judge from the cast onthe table."

  "What do you need, dotard?"

  "I shall need a barrel that I shall fill with sand, and in the middle ofwhich I shall place my mold.... That is not all.... I have often foundthat, despite the hoops that hold the staves of the barrel, where moldsare placed inside of the sand, the barrel bursts when the molten metalis poured into the hollow. I shall need a long rope to wind tightlyaround the barrel. If the hoops snap, the rope will hold. I shall alsoneed a long thin string to hold the sides of the mold."

  "You shall have the barrel, the rope and string."

  "These young folks and I shall be forced to spend part of the night atthe work. The days are short at this season. Order a pouch of wine forus, who otherwise drink only water. The good cheer will keep up ourstrength during our hard night's work. On casting days, at the workshopsof the great Eloi, the slaves were always treated to something extra....Eatables were not spared."

  "You shall have your pouch of wine ... seeing that this is a holy-day atthe convent. A miracle has taken place--"

  "A miracle! Tell us about it!"

  "Yes.... A just punishment of heaven has struck a band of adventurersupon whom Charles the accursed had the audacity of bestowing this abbeythat is consecrated to the Church. They camped last night upon thejetty, expecting to attack the monastery at daybreak. But the Lord, bymeans of a redoubtable and astonishing prodigy opened the cataracts ofheaven. The ponds swelled and the whole band of criminals was drowned!"

  "Glory be to the Lord!" cried the old goldsmith, making a sign to hisapprentices to imitate him. "Glory be to the Lord, who drowns impiouswretches in the cataracts of his wrath!"

  "Glory be to the Lord!" repeated the young slaves in chorus at the topof their voices. "Glory be to the Lord, who drowns impious wretches inthe cataracts of his wrath! Amen!"

  "It is a miracle that does not at all surprise me, Ricarik," added thegoldsmith; "it is surely due to the teeth of St. Loup, to the holy relicthat you brought me yesterday."

  "That's probable ... it is certain.... You do not need anything else?"

  "No," answered the old man, rising and looking into several boxes; "Ihave here for the mold enough sulphur and bitumen, there is also enoughcharcoal; one of my apprentices shall go with you, Ricarik, and bringthe barrel, rope and cord, and do not forget the pouch of wine and thevictuals, seigneur intendant!"

  "You will get them later, together with your pittances at doublerations."

  "Ricarik, we shall not be able to leave the workshop one instant, onaccount of the mold. Let us have our daily pittance this morning, if youplease, so that the work may not be interrupted. We shall lock the doorto keep out intruders."

  "Let one of your apprentices come with me; he shall bring all thethings, but be sure and have the vase cast to-morrow so as to please ourholy abbess; if you fail your backs will have to pay for it."

  "You may assure our holy and venerable abbess that when the vase shallcome out of the mold it will be worthy of an artisan who saw the greatEloi handle the file and burin." Bonaik then said in a low voice to oneof the apprentices, while Ricarik was moving towards the door: "Pick upon your way a dozen stones of the size of walnuts; keep them in yourpockets, and bring them to me." He then said aloud: "Accompany theseigneur intendant, my boy; and be sure not to loiter on the way back."

  "Rest assured, master," said the apprentice with a significant gestureto the old man while following the intendant out of the shop; "yourorders will be obeyed to the letter."