CHAPTER I. THE FOUR FOES OF CROQUEMITAINE.
CHARLEMAGNE had an excellent memory. He never omitted to ponder over thedangers to which Mitaine was exposed at every turn. He had the scene ofthe late ambush carefully searched by his spies in the first place, andafterwards by his soldiers. All, on their return, made the same report.They said the forest was inhabited, and there was a good deal of talkabout a castle called "The Fortress of Fear," which was to be foundsomewhere in the neighbourhood, although nobody they met with had seenit. None, however, doubted its existence. If a child disappeared, orany cattle were carried off, the trembling peasants said, "The Lord ofFear-fortress had taken them." If a fire broke out anywhere, it was theLord of Fear-fortress who must have lit it. The origin of all accidents,mishaps, catastrophes, or disasters was traced to the mysterious ownerof this invisible castle.
"I should like to have the mystery cleared up," said Charlemagne tohimself. "I can hardly resign myself to the belief that it is Ganelon,my old brother-in-arms."
He called his knights together.
"My faithful champions, I need four of you for a perilous adventure, Iknow not where I am sending you--I know not whether you will return. Whowill risk death for my good favour?"
All the knights at once flung themselves at his feet, each entreatingthe Emperor to honour him with his choice.
"You place me in a difficult position," said the Emperor, greatly moved;"I see that chance must point out the four champions. I can without feartrust to it, for you are all equally brave."
The names of all the knights present were put into a helmet, and Mitaineplayed the part of Destiny to the best of her power, little thinking shewas choosing her own champions and avengers. The first name she calledout was that of Allegrignac of Cognac, Count of Salencon and Saintonge.
"The lot suits me admirably," said the Emperor, giving a friendly waveof his hand to the knight. "You know the language of the country, andwill be a safe guide for your companions."
Mitaine next named the Baron of Mont-Rognon, Lord of Bourglastic,Tortebesse, and elsewhere.
"This is indeed a capital choice! There is no stouter arm in theArvennes than yours; and if there be a postern to be burst open by apowerful shoulder, you will be there, Mont-Rognon."
"Porc-en-Truie, Lord of Machavoine," cried Mitaine.
"I am in luck to-day, by St. James! You are known to be experienced,Porc-en-Truie, and you will conduct the adventure, I entrust to you, toa prosperous end, I feel sure. But I am curious to know who is my fourthchampion."
"Maragougnia, Count of Rioin," said Mitaine.
"Now we have wisdom, strength, and cunning. Maragougnia can give theserpent points at wisdom, and beat him. If I do not succeed with suchknights I shall despair altogether."
Charlemagne withdrew with his four champions, told them of the perilsto which his god-child had been exposed, the investigation he hadinstituted, the suspicions he had entertained; and finally, he spoke ofthe Fortress of Fear, winding up in these terms:--
"I am anxious to square accounts with this Croquemitaine. You will passthrough the forest till you arrive at Alagon, a little hamlet on thebanks of the Ebro. There you will inquire for the Fonda del Caiman,or, if you prefer it, the sign of the Crocodile. You will there restyourselves for a short time, and then set out on your quests. You,Allegrignac, striking off from the river, will pursue your coursetowards Pampeluna. You, Mont-Rognon, will proceed in the direction ofCatalyud; and look out for the Saracens, my friend, who on that sideare disgusted enough with the trouble we have given them. You,Porc-en-Truie, will make for Fuentes. If you are guided by me, you willtravel by night only, and conceal yourself carefully by day. You willappreciate my counsel when once you are on the road. You, finally, mygallant Maragougnia, will have to direct your steps towards Lerida,but you will not go beyond the river Alcander. I have reserved thisexpedition for you because it is the most hazardous--there, you neednot thank me. I understand you! Quarter the country in every direction,and find out for me this Fortress of Fear. He who brings me the head ofits dreaded lord shall be created a baron and peer of my realm."
The Emperor replenished the purses of his champions, and took leaveof them with an embrace. When they' found themselves alone theyinterchanged looks of bewilderment.
"What do you think of that?" said Porc-en-Truie, with a grimace.
"That I shall be a duke," said Allegrignac, cutting a caper. "Thisadventure won't take me a minute!"
"To think that we must set out to-night!" said Mont-Rognon, in tonesof regret; "and to think that I have ordered a splendid supper forto-night, which my fellows will get the benefit of!"
"To think that we shall none of us ever come back again!" saidMaragougnia, in a melancholy voice, as he wiped away a tear with thesleeve of his chain-mail.
"Pshaw! who knows?" broke in Porc-en-Truie, with a smile. "Let us setout, and then we can see!"
They appointed to meet on the borders of the forest, and within an hourafterwards they' were all on the spot, equipped for war or for travel.
Porc-en-Truie, Lord of Machavoine, was a great fellow of thirty years ofage, more skilled in avoiding blows than in dealing them. He invariablyshirked all his military duties, not because he was a coward, butbecause he was incorrigibly idle. He had been known to tramp three hoursafoot to save himself the trouble of saddling his horse, and he hadkilled his dearest friend in a tournament, in order to terminate a longand fatiguing tilting match. He arrived at the rendezvous on horseback,with no weapon but his sword.
"How imprudent!" cried Allegrignac, the moment he saw him coming. "Arewe going to a wedding only, or are you desirous of emulating Miton'sgreat feat at the Tourney of Fronsac?"
"I hate a load of weapons, and I don't mean to kill myself forthis Mitaine--for whom, between you and me, I don't care a grain ofmustard-seed!"
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Allegrignac of Cognac, Count of Salencon, was twenty-five years of age,and six feet six high. He had an open countenance, a stout heart,an untiring tongue, limbs of steel, a stomach of leather, and a veryslender patrimony. His hair was curly, his teeth were white. He wasas proud as a Spaniard, as brave as a Frenchman, as simple-minded asa goose. He was possessed of a pleasant contralto voice, a cheerfulspirit, and a grey horse called Serenade.
Picture to yourself a figure clad in complete steel, and with weapons ofvast weight, like one of those armed and bandy-legged giants you seein a procession of trades, capable of lifting enormous weights, not tomention cattle, and any other unconsidered trifles he could lay handson, and you have a portrait of the Baron of Mont-Rognon, Lord ofBourglastic, Tortebesse, and elsewhere. This huge mass of muscle existedonly to eat and drink. He was a descendant of Esau on his father's side,and of Gargantua on his mother's. He once performed a gigantic feat--hekilled six hundred Saracens who happened to get in his way as he wasgoing to dinner. He had an elastic stomach, and a mouth armed with fourrows of teeth.
Having described his stomach and his mouth,
I need not go on with the likeness, for all that remained were mereincidental appurtenances.
He arrived third at the place of meeting, leading by the halter a muleladen with provisions and bottles.
"What's this?" said Allegrignac, laughingly.
"That!" said Mont-Rognon, offended at his bluntness. "That's supper."
"What's the use of that?" said Porc-en-Truie.
Mont-Rognon the Monstrous.
Mont-Rognon in a hurry for his dinner
"Charlemagne has ordered us to perish for him," broke in the Lord ofBourglastic, "but he did not stipulate that we should perish of hunger."
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Maragougnia, Count of Riom, was the last to arrive. He was equipped inthe most gloomy style. His armour was of browned steel, sprinkled withsilver tears. From the coronet that surmounted his helmet sprang a fewmangy black feathers, which drooped over his shoulders like the branchesof a weeping willow, and all the rest of his accoutrements were tomatch.
He had one e
xtraordinary quality, which was his strong point--instead ofmaking him lose his head, fear only gave him increased presence ofmind. They related deeds of prowess of his which were, in reality,only prodigies of cowardice. He did everything with a profound airof melancholy. His first wife, they say, died of yawning; the secondperished of sheer weariness in three weeks.
Behind him came a page, who might be considered to have originated thesombre livery worn nine hundred years later by the page of the Duchessof Marlborough.*
* Vide "Malbrouck:"--
"Elle voit venir son page De unir tout habille."
This lugubrious squire bore the count's change of arms--to wit: twodaggers of mercy; three swords, various; one lance; one helmet; onemorion; two daggers, poisoned; one battle-axe; one flail, iron; oneshield; one breastplate; one shirt of mail; two pairs of gauntlets;three pairs of spurs.
"Good heavens!" said Allegrignac; "are we going to equip all thenation for war? Look, Porc-en-Truie! the Count of Riom has stripped thearmouries of his ten castles."
"I wouldn't stir an inch," said Porc-en-Truie, in the interval of acouple of yawns, "to assure myself that Maragougnia has done somethingsilly. If you assured me to the contrary, I might perhaps be surprisedinto getting up to see. And yet no! I couldn't believe it; so I shouldstay where I was."
Porc-en-Truie, I must observe, sat himself down on the grass the momenthe arrived.
"You're quite welcome to laugh at my prudence," said Maragougnia, "but Idon't forget we are going to certain death."
"Certain death! Fiddlesticks! I mean yet to rival the Methusalems of theperiod," said Porc-en-Truie, rising. "And now let's be off, if we are toreach Alagon to-night."
"To prepare for death," said Maragougnia, dashing away a tear with hisgauntlet.
"To go to sleep," said Porc-en-Truie, with a yawn.
"To try a throw with the dice," said Allegrignac, jingling the money inhis purse.
"To make a good supper," said Mont-Rognon, with a hollow voice, gnashinghis teeth like castanets.
In ten minutes the four knights had entered the wood. At sunsetAlleericmac was hammering with his fist at the door of the Fonda delCaiman.
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