The Poniard's Hilt; Or, Karadeucq and Ronan. A Tale of Bagauders and Vagres

by Eugène Sue

  CHAPTER VIII.

  THE MIRACLE OF ST. MARTIN.

  The rhetorician straightened himself up and proceeded to the proof.

  "I'm at it," he said. "But first of all, brothers, answer me thisquestion: Under whose royal claws did this beautiful land of Auvergnefall?"

  "Under the claws of Clotaire, the last and worthy son of King Clovis.Having married the widow of his second nephew Theobald, Clotaire nowowns Auvergne by double right. He is now in this year 558 the sole kingof all conquered Gaul. Glory to the Saints in heaven! Now, then, thatClotaire is the wedder of the whole human race. The bishops have marriedhim as many times as it has pleased him to celebrate fresh weddings;they remarried him even during the lives of most of his wives. Theymarried him to Gundiogue, the wife of his own brother; they married himto Radegonde, to Ingonde and, a fortnight later to the latter's sister,called Aregonde; they married him to Chemesne, to several others, andfinally to Waltrade, the widow of his second nephew Theobald. But allthese are only peccadillos--"

  "Learned, very learned Symphorien, you promised to prove to us _logice_that heaven would rain miracles in our favor; but your rhetoric tends toprove just one thing--that Clotaire is an eternal wedder--"

  "My rhetoric first establishes the premises, you will presently see whatconclusions flow from them--_ergo_, I shall establish one moreprefigurement, which I shall also need for my argument. It is this:Among other crimes, this Clotaire committed one before which even Clovismight have recoiled. The affair happened in Paris in the year 533, inthe old Roman palace inhabited by the Frankish kings. Now listen--"

  "We are listening, learned Symphorien. It is pleasant to the ear to hearthe praises of kings."

  "Accordingly, it was about twenty-five years ago. Clovis had long beforegone to paradise upon the recommendation of the bishops and after havingpartitioned Gaul between his four sons--Thierry, Childebert, Clodomirand this Clotaire, who is to-day the sole king of all these conqueredprovinces. Clodomir died shortly after and left two children. These weretaken in charge by their grandmother, the widow of Clovis, old QueenClotilde. She had her two little grandsons brought up beside her, untilthey should be of age to assure the inheritance of their father'skingdom. One day, when she was in Paris, Childebert, who lived in thatcity, sent secretly one of his confidential servants to the kind-heartedClotaire with the message: 'Our mother Clotilde keeps the children ofour brother near her, and she wishes them to enter into possession ofhis kingdom; come quickly to Paris in order that we may consider what isto be done with them, whether we shall have their hair cut short likethe rest of the people, and have them locked up in a monastery, orwhether we shall kill them and thus share among ourselves the kingdom oftheir father, our brother'--"

  "The story begins to be affectionate."

  "It is the fraternity in vogue among the Franks."

  "What Vagre would ever think of killing his own brother's children inorder to seize their property?"

  "None! None would think of such a thing."

  "We are wolves, and wolves do not devour one another--my brothers--"

  "And were those children whom they sought to slay still young, learnedSymphorien?"

  "One was ten, the other seven--"

  "Poor little creatures--"

  "I pursue my narrative. Clotaire arrived in Paris, deliberated with hisbrother, and the two acting in concert visited old Queen Clotilde andsaid to her: 'Send us your grandchildren that we may embrace them, andforthwith announce them to the people as the heirs of their father'skingdom.'"

  "Oh! These Frankish kings are ever as wily as they are bloodthirsty! Itwas a lure, was it not, learned Symphorien?"

  "You will soon see what their project was. Clovis' widow was happy, andsent the little children to their uncles, saying to the little ones: 'Ishall forget that I lost your father when I see you succeed him in hiskingdom.' The moment the children arrived at their uncles' they wereseparated from their slaves and governors, and kept in closeconfinement. Clotaire and Childebert then sent an emissary to thechildren's grandmother. In one hand he carried a pair of shears, in theother a naked sword. He said to old Queen Clotilde: 'Glorious Queen, ourlords, your sons, desire to know your preference with regard to yourgrandsons--do you wish them to be shorn, that is, locked up in aconvent, or would you prefer to have them slain?' 'If they are torenounce their father's throne,' cried the old Queen indignant, 'I wouldprefer to see them dead rather than shorn.' The emissary returned andsaid to the two kings: 'You have the Queen's wishes to finish the workthat you began.' Immediately thereupon King Clotaire takes the eldest bythe arm, throws him on the ground, and plunges his knife under the boy'sarm-pit."

  "Poor, dear little one!" murmured Odille weeping. "He must have diedcalling to his mother for help--"

  "The royal butcher knew the right spot to plunge his knife in thechild's body," observed Ronan; "that is the proper way to kill lambkins.Proceed, learned Symphorien."

  "At the cries of the child, his younger brother rushes in and throwshimself at Childebert's feet, and clinging to his legs with all hisstrength, cries out to him: 'Uncle! Good uncle! Come to my help! Do notlet me be killed like my brother!'"

  "Touched to the heart for an instant, Childebert says to Clotaire:'Grant me the life of this child.' But Clotaire answers enraged: 'Eitherpush the child off your knees, or you will die in his stead! It is youwho led me into this affair, and now your heart seems to fail you!'"

  "The good Clotaire was right," put in Ronan. "First to scheme theassassination of the children, and then to recoil before the deed was toinsult the stock of the glorious King Clovis. But Childebert thoughtbetter, in honor of his royal family, did he not, learned Symphorien?"

  "What else could he? Childebert pushed the child off from his knees andthrew him towards Clotaire, who plunged his knife under the boy'sarm-pit as he had done with the other, and killed him. The two kingsforthwith put all the slaves and governors of the two children to death,and divided their kingdom among them."

  "That is the manner in which monarchies are founded," observed Ronan."Oh, by Rita-Gaur, the inspired Gaul of olden days who had a blousewoven of the beard of the kings! All these monsters deserve to beexterminated, do you not think so, friend?" he added, addressing thehermit laborer, who had silently listened to the narrative. "Is it notthe duty of all sons of Gaul to take the field in permanence againstthese wild beasts who have invaded our country, reduced us to vileslavery?"

  "It is better to prevent the evil than to kill the criminal," answeredthe hermit.

  "Hermit, could you prevent a Frankish king from being born a rapaciousthief?"

  "He must be prevented from being born king, duke, count or seigneur, andtaught that he is not the master of the life and goods of other humanbeings. Jesus of Nazareth said it: we are all equal. From the equalityof men their fraternity will one day be born. To each his part in thecommon heritage. Propagate that doctrine among your brothers, and theend will be reached without the spilling of blood."

  Saying this the hermit-laborer relapsed into his previous silent revery.

  "Twice have I camped on the trail of that last king of Auvergne--king bythe grace of pillage and massacre," said Ronan, "and both times I failedto catch him. But, by Rita-Gaur, if ever Clotaire falls into my hands, Ishall shave him--and so close to his shoulders that his head will nevermore grow again--"

  "Ronan, you reckon without the demonstration of rhetoric. I haveestablished the premises, let us now draw the conclusions. Therefore,_logice_, I shall prove to you that naught will avail you againstClotaire. The Lord protects him. Yes, the Lord has performed a miraclein favor of Clotaire, the butcher of children. Consequently, I was rightwhen I said that I shall prove _logice_ that the Lord will surelyperform some miracle in our own favor, in favor of the good Vagres--"

  "We were decidedly wrong in not hanging the bishop!"

  "It will always be time to draw the Lord's attention upon as by somesuch pious deed. But tell us the miracle, learned Symphorien."

&nbs
p; "It was in the year 537, about four years after Childebert and Clotairestabbed their little nephews to death. Our two worthy sons of the stockof Clovis had no thought but of how to plunder and despatch each other.Accordingly, although united for a moment like loving brothers in theassassination of the two boys, Clotaire and Childebert declared waragainst each other. Theudebert, one of Clovis' grandchildren, joinedChildebert; the two placed themselves at the head of their leudes, and,as was their wont, pillaged and laid waste the countries that theycrossed, and marched against Clotaire. The good uncle did not considerhis own forces strong enough to make head against the joint troops ofhis brother and his nephew; he declined battle and withdrew to theforest of Brotonne, between Rouen and the sea. Theudebert andChildebert girdled the forest, and quietly awaited the night, confidentof catching the beloved brother and uncle in the net. In pursuit oftheir plan, Childebert and Theudebert advanced noiselessly at the headof their troops. The sun was rising. They had arrived to within two orthree hundred paces from the spot where Clotaire was encamped with hisleudes, when suddenly a frightful hailstorm of stones and fire droppeddown from the sky. The troops of Childebert and Theudebert were crushedby the stones and consumed by the heavenly fire."

  "And what became of Clotaire?"

  "Oh! Clotaire, the favorite of the Lord, as the miracle proved, saw thetroops of his brother and nephew annihilated only a few paces from himby the stones and fire that rained down from the sky, while over his ownhead, the sky, as pure, limpid and serene as his own conscience, was ofa smiling blue. Not even a breath of wind agitated the tops of the treesin the forest, while all around there was a cataract of fire. Andthereupon a further shower of stones dropped down from the bosom of theclouds, and buried all the enemies of Clotaire."

  Symphorien stopped for a moment to contemplate the effect of the miracleon his audience and then proceeded:

  "And above all, you must not fail to observe that the account of themiracle expressly states that it was the great St. Martin himself, who,in paradise, prayed to the Lord that he give such a token of friendshipfor Clotaire. Now, then, St. Martin did not intercede with the Lord onbehalf of the felonious Clotaire, but at the fervent prayer of QueenClotilde."

  "What! The grandmother of the two poor little victims of that monster ofa Clotaire?" exclaimed little Odille clasping her hands. "She prayed fora miracle in favor of the murderer of her two grandsons?"

  "My Vagre," put in at this juncture the bishopess passing her slenderfingers through the waivy hair of the young man, and placing her lipsupon her lover's mouth, "is it not better to proceed to yonder worldsthan to remain and live in this world of horrors?"

  "Aye, horrible--horrible is this world," cried the hermit-laborer withprofound grief and indignation. "Oh! To see the name of that God ofmercy, of love and of justice thus profaned and daily soiled! Oh! To seethese crimes, that cause nature to shudder, placed under divineprotection! Oh, Jesus! Jesus of Nazareth! You the divinest of all sages,you did foresee that your Church would be ill-understood, when, withyour spirit, afflicted unto death, you did, in your last and supremewatch, weep over the approaching future of the world! Jesus! Jesus!Centuries must elapse before your day shall arrive!"

  "Be careful, friend!" said Ronan, "speak not so loud. Yonder holy man ofa bishop, who sleeps not far from you, gorged with wine and meat, mightexcommunicate you if he heard you! But to the devil with sadness! Welive in damnable days--let us live like the damned! Up, my Vagres, up!You are thrice holy! Let our Saturnalia cover all Gaul--let this land ofour fathers be the grave of the Franks, even if it has to be the graveof ourselves. The ruins of our deserted cities will tell futurecenturies: 'Here lies a great people! Free, it was the pride of theworld; enslaved by conquering kings, it one day knew how to vanish fromthe world as it dragged its tyrants with it into the abyss!' So, then,let us die rejoicing. Up, my Vagres and Vagresses--let us dance and makelove until dawn! Let the Franks tremble in their burgs at our daringsongs! Let bishops flee for refuge in their basilicas! Let them allwhisper affrighted to one another: 'Woe is us! Woe is us to-morrow! Theyare feeling very happy to-night in Vagrery!"

  And the Vagres and Vagresses screamed, and sang, and shouted. Wildlythey tumbled about, and started a giddy reel upon the sward by the paleillumination of the moon.