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

by Eugène Sue

  CHAPTER IV.

  THE LION OF POITIERS.

  Seigneur count! Seigneur count Neroweg! Wake up! Instead of having spentthe night, as you expected, in the arms of one of your female slaves,out of fear for the devil you spent it on your knees, close to yourclerk, and repeating in a maudlin and besotted voice the prayers thatthe holy man mumbled, half asleep, into your ears. After having eatenand drunk his fill he would have by far preferred his own bed to yourcompany. Finally reassured by the first peep of day--a time that barsout the demons--you fell asleep on your couch, furnished withbear-skins, the trophies of the chase. Seigneur count Neroweg, awake!One of the five sons of your good King Clotaire, to-day the sole masterof Gaul--all the other sons and grandsons of the pious Clovis, who restsin consecrated ground in the basilica of the venerated apostles atParis, having died--one of the five sons of that King Clotaire, Chram byname, a bastard son--but what does that matter!--and governor ofAuvergne in his father's name, Chram is approaching! He comes, a signalfavor, with his three favorites, a goodly number of leudes in the trainof his _antrustions_, as the royal favorites proudly style themselves.Awake, Neroweg! Awake, seigneur count! There is Chram, coming to pay youa visit. Brilliant and numerous is the cavalcade of his suite. The threedear friends of Chram, still dearer friends of pillage, of murder and ofrape, accompany the royal personage, do you not hear? Their names areImnachair, Spatachair, and the "Lion of Poitiers," the renegade Gaul,who, like so many others of his stripe, rallied to the conqueringFranks. The "Lion of Poitiers" earned his name by reason of hiscarnivorous taste for rapine and flesh dripping blood.

  Seigneur count! Seigneur count Neroweg! Will you not wake up? Wake upalso your wife Godegisele, who spent the night dreaming of strangledwives. Be up and doing. Let Godegisele array herself in the mostresplendent jewels of your fourth wife Wisigarde! Hurry, hurry, seigneurcount! Let Godegisele don her most attractive raiment! She may be to thetaste of Chram or of his favorites. He is a gracious king, anaccommodating king. There is none more so. Is a woman, whether free orslave, pleasing to the eye of any friend of his, he forthwith equips hisfavorite with a _royal diploma_, by virtue of which he takes the womanthat he covets.

  Quick, quick, seigneur count! Order your leudes to take horse and yourfoot soldiers to put on their gala armors, and yourself, seigneur count,head your band, cased in your parade armor and carrying on your side themagnificent gold-hilted Spanish sword, which you stole on the occasionof the plundering of the land of the Visigoths, the "damned Arians" and"accursed heretics," upon whom the Catholic bishops let you loose withthe fagot in one hand, the sword in the other, exactly as you let looseyour pack of hounds upon the wild beasts of the forest! Be quick, bequick, leap upon your roan horse harnessed in its saddle and bridle ofred leather, with bit and stirrups of silver! Quick! Ride out at agallop to meet your glorious Prince Chram; ride out at the head of yourhorsemen and footmen! Already your royal guest and his suite, whoseapproach one of their forerunners has announced, are only at a littledistance from your burg. Seigneur count, hasten to greet him and leadhim into your seigniorial residence! You hardly expected to hear suchauspicious tidings; moreover your good friend and protector, BishopCautin accompanies Prince Chram.

  "A curse upon the arrival of this Chram," said Neroweg. "However shortthe stay of him and his men at my burg, they will drink up my wine, eatup all my provisions, and who knows but also pilfer some of my gold andsilver vases. Neither I nor my companions have any love for these courtleudes, who always have the air of looking down upon us because theyquarter in palaces and cities."

  Thus spoke count Neroweg as, followed by his warriors, he rode out tomeet Prince Chram, whom he found, together with his suite, within twobows' shot of the fosse that girded the burg.

  What a beautiful, noble, glorious, luminous sight is that of alonghaired prince, especially when his hair consists of a long tangledmop, that scissors have never touched, such being one of the distinctiveattributes of the royal Frankish family. Unfortunately, although stillyoung, Prince Chram, being worn by drunkenness and all manner ofenervating excesses, was almost wholly bald. Only from his neck andtemples did a few long and straggling locks of light hair tumble downupon his chest and arched back. His long dalmatica of purple fabric,slit on the side at the height of his knees, half hid the shoulders andcrupper of his black horse. Bandelets of gilt leather criss-crossed histight-fitting hose from his ankles up to his knees. His spurred shoesrested upon gilt stirrups; his long gold-hilted sword was sheathed inwhite cloth and hung from a superbly ornamented belt. In lieu of a whip,he carried a cane of precious wood with a head of chiseled gold, uponwhich, when the worn-out debauchee walked, he leaned heavily. PrinceChram's face was villainous. On his right Bishop Cautin rode as proudlyas a man of war. From time to time the prelate cast an uneasy glance atChram, because, though he sufficiently detested Chram, he was well awarethat Chram detested him still more. At the Prince's right rode the "Lionof Poitiers," the hardened criminal who, together with Imnachair andSpatachair, both of whom rode close behind him in the second rank,constituted a trinity of perdition ample enough to damn Chram, had notChram been damned in his very mother's womb, as the priests express it.Insolence and profligacy, haughty disdain and cruelty were so profoundlygraven on the features of the "Lion of Poitiers," the renegade Gaul,that even a hundred years after his death it should not have beendifficult still to trace upon the bones of his face the words"profligacy, insolence and cruelty."

  After the Frankish fashion these three seigneurs wore rich short-sleevedtunics over their jackets, tight-fitting hose, and gaiters of curedleather with the fleece on the outside. Behind Chram and his threefriends rode his seneschal, the count of his stables, the mayor of hispalace, his butler, and other officers of the first rank, because thePrince kept a royal establishment. A little distance behind thesedistinguished personages came his bodyguard which consisted of leudesand other warriors armed cap-a-pie. Their tufted casques, their polishedand brilliant cuirasses and greaves glittered in the sun. Their spiritedhorses pranced under their rich caparisons. The streamers at the head oftheir lances fluttered on the breeze, while their painted and gildedbucklers dangled from the pommels of their saddles. As showy andimposing as was the appearance of the princely suite, so miserablyshabby and grotesque was the aspect presented by the leudes of thecount. A considerable number of his suite wore incomplete and rough,dented armor; others, the possessors of cuirasses, had their headscovered with woolen caps; the swords, no less ill-kept than thecuirasses, were mostly orphaned of their sheaths, and in severalinstances the implement of war was held to its rider's belt by cords,while the shaft of more than one lance was crooked, and was still asrough as when first taken from the brush. Most of the horses of thecount's leudes matched their riders in their appearance. It was not yetthe hour for the slaves to proceed to the fields, and a goodly number ofNeroweg's companions, in default of battle steeds, sat astride of draftand plow horses bridled with ropes. By the faith of a Vagre, it was ajoyful sight to watch the wild and envious looks that the leudes of thecount cast at the suite of Chram, and the insolent and mocking looksthat the princely retinue threw upon the count's ramshackle troop.Behind the Prince's men, came the pages, the servants and the slaves whowere on foot and led the ox-teams and dray-horses that drew heavy ladencarts which the inhabitants of the regions crossed by the Prince and hissuite were honored with the privilege of filling up gratuitously.

  Count Neroweg advanced alone on horseback towards his royal guest, who,reining in his mount, said to Neroweg:

  "Count, on my way from Clermont to Poitiers, I thought I would stop atyour burg."

  "Your glory is welcome on my domain. It is partly made up of saliclands; these I hold of my father, who held them both of his sword andthe bounty of your grandfather, Clovis. It is your right to lodge, whenjourneying, at the houses of the counts and beneficiaries of the King,and to them it is a pleasure to extend to you hospitality."

  "Count," insolently put in the Lion of Poitiers,
"is your wife young andhandsome? Is she worth the trouble of courting?"

  "My favorite," observed Chram, making a sign to the renegade Gaul thathe moderate his language, "who asks to know whether your wife is youngand handsome, my favorite, the Lion of Poitiers, loves to joke, bynature."

  "I shall then answer the Lion of Poitiers that neither he nor you willbe able to decide whether my wife is young and handsome or old and ugly;she is with child and unwell, and will not leave her apartments."

  "If your wife is with child," replied the Lion of Poitiers, "who may thefather be?"

  "Count, do not mind his raillery. I told you, my friend is a joker bynature."

  "Chram, I shall not take offence at the jokes of your favorite. Let usproceed to the burg."

  "Lead the way, count, we shall follow."

  The joint cavalcades started for the burg, and the conversationproceeded.

  "Count, admit to our royal master Chram that, in concealing your wife,you keep your treasure under lock and key for fear of its being stolenfrom you."

  "My favorite, Spatachair, who holds that language to you, Neroweg, isalso of a humorous disposition."

  "Prince, meseems you select very gay, and perhaps too bold a set offriends."

  "Neroweg, you hide your wife from us--it is your right. We shall hunther up in her nest--that is our right. There is no lock or key safeagainst a good thief. The hunt is up."

  "Chram, this is another of your humorous friends, I suppose?"

  "Yes, count, the most humorous of all--the boldest--his name isImnachair."

  "And my name is Neroweg; I shall ask seigneur Imnachair what will thethief do when he has found the nest and the dove?"

  "Neroweg, your wife will tell you all about it, after we shall havediscovered the belle--we shall put our hands on that treasure as surelyas I am the Lion of Poitiers."

  "And I," cried Neroweg, "as surely as I am the King's count in thiscountry of Auvergne, shall kill like a dog or a prowling fox whomeverwould attempt the role of a lion in my house!"

  "Oh, oh, count, you hold bold language! Is it the brilliant army whichyou lead at your heels that makes you so audacious?" queried thePrince's favorite, nodding towards Neroweg's ramshackle leudes. "If thatband is up to its looks, we are lost!"

  Two or three of the count's leudes who had been drawing nearer, andheard the insolent jokes of Chram's favorite grumbled aloud in angryaccents:

  "We do not like to see Neroweg bantered!"

  "A count's leudes are matches for royal leudes!"

  "The polish of the steel does not make its temper."

  One of Chram's men turned towards his companions, and laughing, pointedat the count's people with the tip of his lance while sarcasticallyalluding to their rustic appearance:

  "Are these plow-slaves disguised as warriors, or warriors disguised asplow-slaves?"

  The royal cortege answered the sally with a loud outburst of laughter.The two sides were beginning to cast defiant looks at each other whenBishop Cautin cried:

  "My dear sons in Christ, I, your bishop and spiritual father, recommendto you coolness and good will. A truce with unseasonable jokes!"

  "Count," said Chram to Neroweg flippantly, "mistrust this profligate andhypocritical bishop. Do not bestow upon him alone the privilege ofsinging your wife's praises--holy man though he be, he would as leavesing the praises of Venus, the goddess of the pagans!"

  "Chram, I am the servant of the son of our glorious King Clotaire; butas bishop I am entitled to your respect."

  "You are right; nowadays you bishops have become almost as powerful, andabove all as rich as ourselves, the Kings."

  "Chram, you mention the power and the wealth of the bishops of Gaul. Youseem to forget that our power is of the Lord, and our riches are thegoods of the poor!"

  "By the slack skin of all the purses that you have rifled, you fatweasel who suck the yellow of the eggs and leave only the shell to thesots, for once you have told the truth. Aye, your riches are the goodsof the poor, but you have bagged these goods for yourself."

  "Glorious Prince, I have accompanied you to the burg of my son inChrist, Count Neroweg, in order to fulfill the act of high justice thatyou know of, but not in order to allow our holy Catholic and apostolicreligion to be impudently made sport of in my person!"

  "And I maintain that your power and riches increase by the day. I havetwo daughters; who knows but they will yet see the royal power shrink ineven measure as the grasping usurpations of the bishops, with whom weshared our conquest, gain ground--a parcel of bishops whom we enriched,to whom we have been the men at arms, and who are ungrateful towardstheir benefactors!"

  "Men at arms to us, men of peace? You err, O, Prince! Our only arms aresermons and exhortations."

  "And when the people laugh at your sermons, as the Visigoths did, theArians of Provence and Languedoc, then you send us to extirpate theirheresy with fire and sword! Those are your real arms!"

  "Glory to God! In those wars against the heretics, the Frankish Kingstook an immense booty, they caused the orthodox faith to triumph, andsnatched the souls of men from the everlasting flames by leading themback to the bosom of the holy Church."

  He who might have assisted at the recent supper at the episcopal villa,where the bishop had Neroweg for his guest, would not have recognizedCautin. The holy man, being then in _tete-a-tete_ with the count, astupid, brutal and blind believer, cared not to clothe himself in thedignity of language. But now, in the presence of Chram, a brazen jesterwhom he detested, he felt the need to impose, both with language andbearing, respect and fear, if not upon the Prince himself and hisfavorites, the latter of whom were as impudent as himself, then at leastupon their suite, who were infinitely less intelligent andproportionally devout. There was another grave apprehension that weighedupon Cautin's mind. He was in great fear that the audacious example ofChram and his friends might shake the naive and fruitful credulity ofNeroweg, from which Cautin drew much profit by the cultivation andexploitation of the devil. From the corner of his eye the bishop saw thecount give a sly ear to the insolent jests of Chram, which seemed atonce to please and frighten him. The Prince doubtlessly was wonderingwhether Neroweg was blockish enough to believe in the miraculous powersof the bishop, and to pay as dearly as he was reputed to do for theabsolutions of the prelate. Cautin, being a man of extraordinaryability, saw his opportunity to strike a master blow. Being in the habitof closely watching the weather and of observing the premonitions of thestorms that are so sudden and of frequent occurrence in mountainouscountries, he, as well as so many other priests, utilized hisweather-wisdom to frighten the simple-minded. The prelate had for somelittle time noticed a black cloud, which, barely visible at first overthe crest of a peak in the distant horizon, was bound soon to spreadover the sky and darken the sun, which, at the moment, was shiningbrilliantly. Accordingly, at the first fresh insolent jest on the partof Chram at the impositions practiced by the clergy, the prelateanswered, measuring the length of his words with the progress made bythe spreading storm-cloud:

  "It is not for an unworthy servant of God, for a humble earth worm likeme, to defend the Church of the Eternal; the Lord has His own power andmiracles with which to convince the incredulous, His celestialpunishments with which to chastise the impious. Woe, I say, unto the manwho dares now, in the face of that sun that shines at this moment withsuch vivid luster over our heads," the bishop proceeded with ever loudervoice; "woe, I say, and malediction unto him who, in the face of theAlmighty, Who sees, hears, judges and punishes us; malediction upon himwho dares insult His divinity in the sacred person of His bishops! Isthere any present, Prince or seigneur, who dares outrage divinemajesty?"

  "There is here the Lion of Poitiers, who makes you this answer: Cautin,bishop of Clermont, I shall break my switch over your back if you do notquit speaking with such insolence."

  By the faith of a Vagre! The Lion of Poitiers, the renegade Gaul, hadsome occasional good quality. But his bold words caused most of thosewho heard them to shu
dder; the royal suite as well as the leudes of thecount looked scandalized. To these faithful it seemed a monstrous thingto break a switch over the back of a bishop, even if, as in the instanceof Cautin, he was guilty of burying a human being alive in the sepulchreof a corpse.[A] A profound stupor succeeded upon the threat made by theLion of Poitiers. Even Chram himself looked shocked at the audacity ofhis favorite. Cautin took in the scene at a glance. Simulating a saintlyhorror and turning full towards the Lion of Poitiers, who defiantlyswung his switch, the prelate cried, raising his hands heavenward:

  "Unhappy, impious man, have pity upon yourself! The Lord has heard yourblasphemy. Behold how the skies darken--the sun hides its face--beholdthe precursors of celestial wrath! Down on your knees, my dear sons!Down on your knees! Your father in God bids you! Pray the Eternal toappease His wrath, kindled by the frightful blasphemy!"

  [A] Bishop Gregory of Tours. Histoire des Franks, IV. 12.

  And Cautin precipitately descended from his horse. But he did not kneel.Standing erect with his hands outstretched to heaven, in the posture ofa priest officiating at the altar, he seemed to be communing with someinvisible being as if conjuring away the celestial wrath.

  At the bishop's voice, Chram's servants and slaves, all of whom wereterrified by the seemingly sudden storm, threw themselves upon theirknees; most of the Prince's cortege likewise leaped down from theirhorses and knelt, in no less consternation than the slaves and servantsat the sight of the sun's face suddenly darkened when the Lion ofPoitiers threatened the bishop with his switch. Neroweg, who was one ofthe first on his knees, unctuously smote his chest; Chram, however,together with his favorites and a few others of his familiars, kepttheir saddles, hesitating out of pride to follow the bishop's orders.With an imperious gesture and threatening accent the latter cried:

  "Down on your knees, O King! The King is no more than the slave in theeye of the Almighty. Both King and slave must bow down to earth in orderto appease the wrath of the Eternal. Down on your knees, O King! Down onyour knees, both you and your favorites!"

  "Dare you issue orders to me?" cried Chram pale with rage at the sightof the abject submission of his men to the bishop's orders. "Who ismaster here, you or I, insolent priest?"

  A thunder clap that reverberated in the hollows of the mountain closedthe mouth of Chram, and served the knavery of Cautin to perfection.Louder and more imperiously than before the prelate repeated:

  "Down on your knees! Hear you not the thunder of heaven, the rumblingvoice of the Almighty? Will you draw down a shower of fire upon theheads of us all? O, Lord, have pity upon us! Remove the cataracts ofburning lava, that, in Your wrath at the impious, You are about toshower down upon them, and, perhaps, upon us also, miserable sinnersthat we all are! Even the purest of heart can not claim to beirreproachable before Your majesty, O, Lord!"

  Several fresh claps of thunder, preceded by blinding flashes oflightning, carried the fright of Chram's suite to the highest pitch. ThePrince himself did not remain wholly unaffected, despite his innateincredulity, audacity and superb insolence. His pride nevertheless stillrevolted at the idea of yielding to the bishop's orders, and murmurs, atfirst subdued, but speedily breaking out in open threats, rose from allparts of his suite, cortege and retinue.

  "Down on your knees, our Prince--on your knees!"

  "Insignificant as we are, we do not wish to burn in the fire of heavenfor the sake of your and your favorite's impiousness!"

  "Down on your knees, our Prince! Down on your knees! Obey the orders ofthe holy bishop--it is the Lord who speaks to us through his mouth!"

  "Down on your knees, King! Down on your knees!"

  Chram was forced to yield. He feared to irritate his followers beyondthe point of safety; above all, he feared setting a public example ofrebellion against the bishops, who were such useful props to theconquerors. Grumbling and blaspheming between his teeth, Chram finallyand slowly alighted from his horse and motioned his two favoritesImnachair and Spatachair, both of whom took the hint, to do as he did,and drop down upon their knees.

  Left alone on horseback, and looking down upon the prostrate crowd, theLion of Poitiers braved the increasingly loud clatter of the thunderpeals with intrepid front and a sardonic smile upon his lips.

  "Down on your knees!" cried several voices in towering anger. "Down onyour knees, Lion of Poitiers!"

  "Our King Chram has knelt down, and the impious man, the cause of allthe trouble through his sacrilegious threats, he alone refusesobedience!"

  "The blasphemer will draw a deluge of fire upon our heads!"

  "My sons, my dear sons!" cried Cautin, who was the only one on foot, asthe Lion of Poitiers was the only one on horseback. "Let us prepare fordeath! A single grain of darnel will suffice to rot a muid of wheat--asingle hardened sinner will, perhaps, cause the death of us all, howeverinnocent we be. Let us resign ourselves to our fate, my dear sons--maythe will of God be done--He will, perhaps, open to us the doors ofparadise!"

  The terrified crowd began to utter increasingly angry cries at the Lionof Poitiers. Neroweg, in whose bosom still rankled the insulting jestsof the insolent royal favorite, half rose, drew his sword and cried:

  "Death to the impious wretch! His blood will appease the wrath of theEternal!"

  "Yes! Yes! Death!" came from a crowd of furious voices, so loud that therattle of the thunder failed to drown the human explosion.

  Overhead the sky looked like one sheet of flame; the flashes oflightning succeeded one another rapidly, vivid, blinding. The bravesttrembled; Prince Chram himself began to regret his jests and sneers atthe bishop. Seeing that the Lion of Poitiers remained unperturbed, andthat he answered Neroweg's threats and the furious outcries of the crowdwith a look of disdain, the Prince said to his favorite:

  "Come down from your horse and kneel beside us--if you refuse, I shalllet them cut you to pieces--never have I witnessed such a storm. Youwere wrong in threatening the bishop with your switch; I myself regrethaving used offensive language towards him--the fire of heaven may fromone moment to the other drop down upon us."

  The Lion of Poitiers crimsoned with rage, but realizing the fate thatfurther resistance on his part would draw upon him, he yielded. Grindinghis teeth, he followed the orders of Chram, alighted from his horse, andafter a further instant of hesitation, dropped upon his knees and shookhis fist at Cautin. The bishop, who had remained erect, towering abovethe cowering crowd at his feet, answered the gesture of the Lion ofPoitiers with a look of triumph that he cast upon Chram and hisfavorites; he regaled his eyes by letting them wander over the Prince,his favorites, the assembled leudes, the servants and slaves--all boweddown to the earth with fear and respect before him. Relishing his signalvictory he said to himself:

  "Yes, we triumph! Yes, royal stripling, the bishop is mightier thanyou. There you are at my feet with your forehead in the dust."

  The bishop then knelt down himself and cried out aloud in a penetratingvoice:

  "Glory to Thee, O Lord! Glory to Thee! The impious rebel, seized withholy terror bows down his haughty forehead. The devouring lion hasbecome the most timid lamb before Thy divine majesty. Calm Thy justwrath, O Lord! Have mercy upon us all, here upon our knees before Thee!Dissipate the darkness that obscures the firmament! Remove the fieryclouds that the obduracy of a sinner drew over our heads! Deign, OAlmighty Lord to give a public manifestation that the voice of Thyunworthy servant has reached Thy throne!"

  The prelate said many more admirable things, now measuring and gradinghis utterances of grace and mercy according as the storm receded andsubsided, just as, at its approach, he modulated his threatening words.The skilful man closed his conjuration to the roll of the recedingthunder--"the last rumblings," he said "of the Eternal's angered voice,"finally appeased by his prayers. Soon thereupon the sky cleared; theclouds dispersed, the sun shone anew in all its pristine splendor; andthe royal cortege, now again as serene as the sky, resumed their tramptowards the burg of Neroweg singing at the top of their voices:


  "Glory, eternal glory to the Lord!"

  "Glory, glory, our blessed bishop!"

  "Hosanna! _Gloria in excelsis Deo!_"

  "The Lord miraculously turned from us the angry fire of heaven!"

  "The impious man bowed down his rebellious head!"

  "Glory! Glory to the Lord!"