by Eugène Sue
CHAPTER IV.
OFF TO THE BAGAUDY!
I broke off this narrative three days ago.
I began writing it on the afternoon of the day when the peddler, afterhaving spent the night under our roof, proceeded on his journey. When heappeared at the hall the next morning the tempest had subsided. Afterthe peddler left the house, before he disappeared at the turning of theroad, and as he waved us a last adieu, I said to Madalen:
"Well, now, you silly thing! You poor frightened mother--did the angrygods punish my pet Karadeucq for having wished to see the Korrigans?Where is the misfortune that this stranger was to bring down upon ourhouse? The tempest has blown over, the sky is serene, and the sea iscalming down and looking as blue again as ever! Why is your mien stillpreoccupied? Yesterday, Madalen, you said: 'To-morrow rests with God.'Here we are at yesterday's to-morrow. What evil has befallen us?Nothing, absolutely nothing."
"You are right, good father, my forebodings have proved false. And yet,I do not feel at ease. I still am sorry that my son spoke the way he didof the Korrigans."
"Turn around, here is your Karadeucq with his hunting dog in the leash,his pouch on his back, his bow in his hand, his arrows at his side. Howhandsome he is! How handsome! How alert and determined his mien!"
"Where are you going, son?"
"Mother, yesterday you said to me that it was two days since we have hadany venison in the house. This is a good day for the purpose. I shallendeavor to bring down a doe in the forest of Karnak. The chase may takeme long; I am carrying some provisions along--bread, fruits and a bottleof our wine."
"No, Karadeucq, you shall not go hunting to-day; I shall not allow it--"
"And why not, mother?"
"I do not know. You might lose your way and fall into some pit in theforest."
"Mother, do not feel alarmed; why, I know all the paths and pits in theforest."
"No, no; you shall not go hunting to-day. I forbid you to leave thehouse."
"Good grandfather, intercede for me--"
"Willingly. I delight in eating venison. But you must promise me, mypet, that you will not go on the side of the spring where you mayencounter the Korrigans."
"I swear to you, grandfather!"
"Come, Madalen, let my skilful archer depart for the chase--he swears toyou that he will not think of the fairies."
"Is it really your wish that he go, father?"
"I beg you; let him go; see how crossed he looks."
"Well, let it be as you wish--it is against my wish, however!"
"A kiss, mother!"
"No, bad boy, leave me alone!"
"A kiss, good mother; I beg you--do not deny me a caress--"
"Madalen, see those big tears in his eyes. Would you have the courage torefuse him an embrace?"
"Kiss me, dear child--I felt sorrier than you. Be gone, but come backearly."
"One more kiss, good mother--good-bye--good-bye!"
Karadeucq left, wiping his tears. Three or four times he turned aroundto look at his mother--he then disappeared behind the trees. The daypassed. My favorite did not return. The chase must have carried him faraway. He will be here in the evening. I started to write this narrativethat sorrow interrupted. It grew dark. Suddenly someone burst into myroom. It was my son Jocelyn, closely followed by his wife. He cried.
"Father! Father! A great misfortune."
"Alas! Alas! father. I told you that the Korrigans and the strangerwould be fatal to my son. Why did I yield to you? Why did I allow him todepart this morning? Why did I allow my beloved Karadeucq to go away! Itis done for him! I shall never more see him again! Oh! unhappy womanthat I am!
"What is the matter, Madalen? What is the matter, Jocelyn? What makesyou look so pale? Why those tears? What has happened to Karadeucq?"
"Read, father, read this little parchment that Yvon the neat-herd hasjust brought me--"
"Oh! A curse! A curse upon that peddler with his Bagaudy! He bewitchedmy son--the Korrigans are the cause of this misfortune--"
While my son and his wife wrung their arms in desolation I read what mygrandson had written:
"Good father and good mother--when you will read this I, your sonKaradeucq, will be very far away from our house. I have told Yvon theneat-herd, whom I met this morning in the fields, not to put thisparchment into your hands until night, to the end that I may have twelvehours the lead, and may thus escape your efforts to overtake me. I amgoing to run the Bagaudy against the Franks and bishops. The times ofthe Chiefs of the Hundred Valleys, the Sacrovirs and Vindexes are past.But I could never remain quiet in a corner of Britanny, the only freesection of Gaul, without avenging, if but upon one of the sons ofClovis, the slavery of our beloved country. Good father, good mother,you have left beside you my elder brother, Kervan, and my sisterRoselyk. Be not angry with me. And you, grandfather, who love me somuch, obtain my pardon and keep my dear parents from cursing theirson--Karadeucq."
Alas, all efforts to recover the unhappy boy were futile.
I started this narrative because the conversation of the peddlerimpressed me deeply. I talked long with the stranger, who for twentyyears had been traveling over all parts of Gaul and who thus hadexceptional opportunities to observe events. He solved to me themystery--how our people, who had known how to emancipate themselves fromthe powerful Roman yoke, fell and remained under the yoke of the Franks,a people whom our own surpass a thousandfold in courage and in numbers.
I had meant to insert here the stranger's answer. But the departure ofthat unhappy boy who was the joy of my old days, has broken my heart. Ilack the courage to continue this narrative. Later, perhaps, if somegood news from my pet Karadeucq should revive the hope of seeing himagain, I shall finish what I meant to say. Alas! Shall I ever hear fromhim? Poor boy! To leave all alone, at the age of seventeen, to run theBagaudy!
Can it be true, after all, that the gods punish us for wishing to seethe malign spirits? Alas! Alas! I now also say, with the poor mother,who incessantly runs to the door demented in the hope that she may beable to see whether her son is coming back:
"The gods have punished Karadeucq, my pet, for having wished to see theKorrigans!"
* * * * *
My father Araim died of a broken heart shortly after the departure of mysecond son. He left me the family archives.
I write these lines ten years after my father's death, and have neverhad any tidings of my poor son Karadeucq. He probably met his death inthe adventurous life of a Bagauder.
Britanny preserves her independence, the Franks dare not attack us. Allthe other provinces of Gaul have remained under the yoke of the bishopsand the sons of Clovis. The latter, it is said, surpass their father inferocity. Their names are Thierry, Childebert and Clotaire; the fourth,Chlodomir, is said to have died this year.
How many years of life are left to me and what events are in store forme? I know not. But I wish this day to bequeath to you, my eldest child,Kervan, the chronicles of our family. I bequeath them to you fivehundred and twenty-six years after our ancestress Genevieve witnessedthe death of Jesus of Nazareth.
* * * * *
I, Kervan, the son of Jocelyn, who died seven years after he bequeathedto me our family archives have this to add:
The narrative that follows was brought to me here, at my house, nearKarnak, by Ronan, one of the sons of my brother Karadeucq, who left ourhouse to run the Bagaudy, the year after the death of Clovis. These twonarratives contain the adventures of my brother Karadeucq and of his twosons Loysik and Ronan. The first portion of the narrative brought to meby Ronan, and which I here subjoin, entitled "The Vagres," and "The Burgof Neroweg," was written by Ronan himself in the ardor of youth, and ina style and form that differ greatly from those of the previousnarratives of our family chronicle; the second, which I have entitled"Ghilde," I wrote from the word of mouth account that Ronan left withme, and which I think should not be lost.
Britanny, still in peace, governs he
rself by chiefs of her own choice.The Franks have not dared to penetrate into our fastnesses. But in thecourse of my nephew's narrative, our descendants will find the secret ofthat mystery that my grandfather Araim had not the courage to put inwriting:
"How the Gallic people, who had known how to emancipate themselves fromthe powerful Roman yoke, fell and remained under the yoke of the Franks,whom they surpass a thousandfold in courage and in numbers."
May it please the gods that it may not some day be in Britanny as in theother provinces of Gaul! May it please the gods that our country, theonly one that to-day remains free, may never fall under the dominationof the Franks and the bishops of Rome. May our druids, both theChristian and the non-Christian, continue to inspire us with a love forfreedom and with the virile virtues of our ancestors.
PART II
THE VAGRES
