CHAPTER II.
ON THE RHINE.
I had often asked myself why Sampso, who was a year older than Ellen,and as beautiful and virtuous as my wife, had until then rejectedseveral offers of marriage. At times I suspected that she entertainedsome secret love, other times I surmised she might belong to one of theChristian societies that began to spread over Gaul and in which thewomen took the vow of virginity, as did several of our female druids. Ialso pondered the reason for Sampso's reticence when I asked her to bemore explicit concerning Victorin. Soon, however, I dropped all thesesubjects and turned my mind upon the expedition that I had in charge.
I wended my way towards the advance posts of the camp and addressedmyself to an officer under whose eyes I placed a scroll with a few lineswritten by Victorin. The officer immediately put four picked soldiers atmy disposal. They were chosen from among a number whose specialdepartment was to manoeuvre the craft of the military flotilla that wasused in ascending or descending the Rhine in order, whenever occasionrequired, to defend the fortified camp. Upon my recommendation the foursoldiers left their arms behind. I alone was armed. As we passed a clumpof oak trees I cut down a few branches to be placed at the prow of thebark that was to transport us. We soon arrived at the river bank, wherewe found several boats that were reserved for the service of the army,tied to their stakes. While two of the soldiers fastened on the prow ofthe boat the oak branches that I had furnished them with, the other twoexamined the oars with expert eyes in order to assure themselves thatthey were in fit condition for use. I took the rudder, and we left theshore.
The four soldiers rowed in silence for a while. Presently the oldest ofthem, a veteran with a grey moustache and white hair, said to me:
"There is nothing like a Gallic song to make time pass quickly and theoars strike in rhythm. I should say that some old national refrain, sungin chorus, renders the sculls lighter and the water more easy to cleavethrough. Are we allowed to sing, friend Schanvoch?"
"You seem to know me, comrade?"
"Who in the army does not know the foster-brother of the Mother of theCamps?"
"Being a simple horseman I thought my name was more obscure than itseems to be."
"You have remained a simple horseman despite our Victoria's friendshipfor you. That is why, Schanvoch, everybody knows and esteems you."
"You certainly make me feel happy by saying so. What is your name?"
"Douarnek."
"You must be a Breton!"
"From the neighborhood of Vannes."
"My family also comes from that neighborhood."
"I thought as much, your name being a Breton name. Well, friendSchanvoch, may we sing a song? Our officer gave us orders to obey youas we would himself. I know not whither you are taking us, but a song isheard far away, especially when it is struck up in chorus by vigorousand broad-chested lads. Perhaps we must not draw attention upon ourbark?"
"Just now you may sing--later not--we shall have to advance withoutmaking any noise."
"Well, boys, what shall we sing?" said the veteran without eitherhimself or his companions intermitting the regular strokes of theiroars, and only slightly turning his head towards them, seeing that,seated as he was on the first bench, he sat opposite to me. "Come, makeyour choice!"
"The song of the mariners, will that suit you?" answered one of thesoldiers.
"That is rather long," replied Douarnek.
"The song of the Chief of the Hundred Valleys?"
"That is very beautiful," again replied Douarnek, "but it is a song ofslaves who await their deliverance; by the bones of our fathers, we arenow free in old Gaul!"
"Friend Douarnek," said I, "it was to the refrain of that slaves'song--'Flow, flow, thou blood of the captive! Drop, drop, thou dew ofgore!' that our fathers, arms in hand, reconquered the freedom that weenjoy to-day."
"That is true, Schanvoch, but that song is very long, and you warned usthat we were soon to become silent as fishes."
"Douarnek," one of the soldiers spoke up, "sing to us the song of Henathe Virgin of the Isle of Sen. It always brings tears to my eyes. She ismy favorite saint, the beautiful and sweet Hena, who lived centuries andcenturies ago."
"Yes, yes," said the other soldiers, "sing the song of Hena, Douarnek!That song predicts the victory of Gaul--and Gaul is to-day triumphant!"
Hearing these words I was greatly moved, I felt happy and, I confess it,proud at seeing that the name of Hena, dead more than three hundredyears, had remained in Gaul as popular as it was at the time of Sylvest.
"Very well, the song of Hena it shall be!" replied the veteran. "I alsolove the sweet and saintly girl, who offered her blood to Hesus for thedeliverance of Gaul. And you, Schanvoch, do you know the song?"
"Yes--quite well--I have heard it sung--"
"You will know it enough to repeat the refrain with us."
Saying this Douarnek struck up the song in a full and sonorous voicethat reached far over the waters of the Rhine:
"She was young, she was fair, And holy was she. To Hesus her blood gave That Gaul might be free. Hena her name! Hena, the Maid of the Island of Sen!
"--Blessed be the gods, my sweet daughter,-- Said her father Joel, The brenn of the tribe of Karnak. --Blessed be the gods, my sweet daughter, Since you are at home this night To celebrate the day of your birth!--
"--Blessed be the gods, my sweet girl,-- Said Margarid, her mother. --Blessed be your coming! But why is your face so sad?--
"--My face is sad, my good mother; My face is sad, my good father, Because Hena your daughter Comes to bid you Adieu, Till we meet again.--
"--And where are you going, my sweet daughter? Will your journey, then, be long? Whither thus are you going?--
"--I go to those worlds So mysterious, above, That no one yet knows, But that all will yet know. Where living ne'er traveled, Where all will yet travel, To live there again With those we have loved.--"
And myself and the three other oarsmen replied in chorus:
"She was young, she was fair, And holy was she. To Hesus her blood gave, That Gaul might be free. Hena her name! Hena, the Maid of the Island of Sen!"
Douarnek then proceeded with the song:
"Hearing Hena speak these words, Sadly gazed upon her her father And her mother, aye, all the family, Even the little children, For Hena loved them very dearly.
"--But why, dear daughter, Why now quit this world, And travel away beyond Without the Angel of Death having called you?--
"--Good father, good mother, Hesus is angry. The stranger now threatens our Gaul so beloved. The innocent blood of a virgin Offered by her to the gods May their anger well soften. Adieu, then, till we meet again, Good father, good mother, Adieu till we meet again, All, my dear ones and friends. These collars preserve, and these rings As mementoes of me. Let me kiss for the last time your blonde heads, Dear little ones. Good bye till we meet. Remember your Hena, she waits for you yonder, In the worlds yet unknown.--"
And the other oarsmen and I replied in chorus to the rythmical sound ofthe oars:
"She was young, she was fair, And holy was she. To Hesus her blood gave That Gaul might be free. Hena her name. Hena, the Maid of the Island of Sen!"
Douarnek proceeded:
"Bright is the moon, high is the pyre Which rises near the sacred stones of Karnak; Vast is the gathering of the tribes Which presses 'round the funeral pile.
"Behold her, it is she, it is Hena! She mounts the pyre, her golden harp in hand, And singeth thus:
"--Take my blood, O Hesus, And deliver my land from the stranger. Take my blood, O Hesus, Pity for Gaul! Victory to our arms!-- And it flowed, the blood of Hena.
"O, holy Virgin, in vain 'twill not have been, The shedding of your innocent and generous blood. Bowed benea
th the yoke, Gaul will some day rise erect, Free and proud, and crying, like thee, --Victory and Freedom!"
And Douarnek, along with the three other soldiers, repeated in a lowvoice, vibrating with pious admiration, this last refrain:
"So it was that she offered her blood to Hesus, To Hesus for the deliverance of Gaul! She was young, she was fair, And holy was she, Hena her name! Hena, the Maid of the Island of Sen!"
I alone did not join in the last refrain of the song. I was too deeplymoved!
Noticing my emotion and my silence, Douarnek said to me surprised:
"What, Schanvoch, have you lost your voice? You remain silent at theclose of so glorious a song?"
"Your speech is sooth, Douarnek; it is just because that song isparticularly glorious to me--that you see me so deeply moved."
"That song is particularly glorious to you? I do not understand you."
"Hena was the daughter of one of my ancestors."
"What say you!"
"Hena was the daughter of Joel, the brenn of the tribe of Karnak, whodied, together with his wife and almost all his family, at the greatbattle of Vannes--a battle that was fought on land and water nearlythree centuries ago. From father to son, I descend from Joel."
"Do you know, Schanvoch," replied Douarnek, "that even kings would beproud of such an ancestry?"
"The blood shed for our country and for liberty by all of us Gauls isour national patent of nobility," I said to him. "It is for that reasonthat our old songs are so popular among us."
"When one considers," put in one of the younger soldiers, "that it isnow more than three hundred years since Hena, the saintly maid,surrendered her own life for the deliverance of the country, and thather name still reaches us!"
"Although it took the young virgin's voice more than two centuries torise to the ears of Hesus," replied Douarnek, "her voice did finallyreach him, seeing that to-day we can say--Victory to our arms! Victoryand freedom!"
We had now arrived at about the middle of the river, where the stream isvery rapid.
Raising his oar, Douarnek asked me:
"Shall we enter the strong current? That would be a waste of strength,unless we are either to ascend or descend the river a distance equal tothat that now separates us from the shore."
"We are to cross the Rhine in its full breadth, friend Douarnek."
"Cross it!" cried the veteran with amazement. "Cross the Rhine! And whatfor?"
"To land on the opposite shore."
"Do you know what that means, Schanvoch? Is not the army of thoseFrankish bandits, if one can honor those savage hordes with the name ofarmy, encamped on the opposite shore?"
"It is to those very barbarians that I am bound."
For a few moments all the four oars rested motionless in their oarlocks.The soldiers looked at one another speechless, as if they could notbelieve what they heard me say.
Douarnek was the first to break the silence. With a soldier's unconcernhe said to me:
"Is it, then, a sacrifice that we are to offer to Hesus by deliveringour hides to those hide-tanners? If such be the orders, forward! Bend toyour oars, my lads!"
"Have you forgotten, Douarnek, that we have a truce of eight days withthe Franks?"
"There is no such thing as a truce to those brigands."
"As you will notice, I have made the signal of peace by ornamenting theprow of our bark with green boughs. I shall proceed alone into theenemy's camp, with an oak branch in my hand."
"And they will slay you despite all your oak branches, as they haveslain other envoys during previous truces."
"That may happen, Douarnek; but when the chief commands, the soldierobeys. Victoria and her son have ordered me to proceed to the Frankishcamp. So thither I go!"
"It surely was not out of fear that I spoke, Schanvoch, when I said thatthose savages would not leave our heads on our shoulders, nor our skinson our bodies. I only spoke from the old habit of sincerity. Well, then,my lads, fall to with a will! Bend to your oars! We have the order fromour mother--the Mother of the Camps--and we obey. Forward! even if weare to be flayed alive by the barbarians, a cruel sport that they oftenindulge in at the expense of their prisoners."
"And it is also said," put in the young soldier with a less unperturbedvoice than Douarnek's, "it is also said that the priestesses of thenether world who follow the Frankish hordes drop their prisoners intolarge brass caldrons, and boil them alive with certain magic herbs."
"Ha! Ha!" replied Douarnek merrily, "the one of us who may be boiled inthat way will at least enjoy the advantage of being the first to tastehis own soup--that's some consolation. Forward! Ply your oars! We areobeying orders from the Mother of the Camps."
"Oh! We would row straight into an abyss, if Victoria so ordered!"
"She has been well named, the Mother of the Camps and of the soldiers.It is a treat to see her visiting the wounded after each battle."
"And addressing them with her kind words, that almost make the wholeones regret that they have not been wounded, too."
"And then she is so beautiful. Oh, so beautiful!"
"Oh! When she rides through the camp, mounted on her white steed, cladin her long black robe, her bold face looking out from under her casque,and yet her eyes shining with so much mildness, and her smile somotherly! It is like a vision!"
"It is said for certain that our Victoria knows the future as well asshe knows the present."
"She must have some charm about her. Who would believe, seeing her, thatshe is the mother of a son of twenty-two?"
"Oh! If the son had only fulfilled the promise that his younger yearsgave!"
"Victorin will always be loved as he has been."
"Yes, but it is a great pity!" remarked Douarnek shaking his head sadly,after the other soldiers had thus given vent to their thoughts andfeelings. "Yes, it is a great pity! Oh! Victorin is no longer the childof the camps that we, old soldiers with grey moustaches, knew as a baby,rode on our knees, and, down to only recently, looked upon with prideand friendship!"
The words of these soldiers struck me with deeper apprehension thanSampso's words did a few hours before. Not only did I often have todefend Victorin with the severe Sampso, but I had latterly noticed inthe army a silent feeling of resentment towards my foster-sister's son,who until then, was the idol of the soldiers.
"What have you to reproach Victorin with?" I asked Douarnek and hiscompanions. "Is he not brave among the bravest? Have you not watched hisconduct in war?"
"Oh! If a battle is on, he fights bravely, as bravely as yourself,Schanvoch, when you are at his side, on your large bay horse, and moreintent upon defending the son of your foster-sister than upon defendingyourself. '_Your scars would declare it, if they could speak through themouths of your wounds_,' as our old proverb says!"
"I fight as a soldier; Victorin fights as a captain. And has not thatyoung captain of only twenty-two years already won five great battlesagainst the Germans and the Franks?"
"His mother, well named Victoria, must have contributed with her counseltowards his victories. He confers with her upon his plans of campaign.But, anyhow, it is true, Victorin is a brave soldier and good captain."
"And is not his purse open to all, so long as there is anything in it?Do you know of any invalid who ever vainly applied to him?"
"Victorin is generous--that also is true."
"Is he not the friend and comrade of the soldiers? Is he ever haughty?"
"No, he is a good comrade, and always cheerful. Besides, what should hebe proud about? Are not his father, his glorious mother and himself fromthe Gallic plebs, like the rest of us?"
"Do you not know, Douarnek, that often it happens that the proudestpeople are the very ones who have risen from the lowest ranks?"
"Victorin is not proud!"
"Does he not, during war, sleep unsheltered with his head upon thesaddle of his horse, like the rest of us horsemen?"
"Brought up by so virile a mother as his, he was bound to
grow up arough soldier, as he is."
"Are you not aware that in council he displays a maturity of judgmentthat many men of our age do not possess? In short, is it not hisbravery, his kindness, his good judgment, his rare military qualities asa soldier and captain that caused him to be acclaimed general by thearmy, and one of the two Chiefs of Gaul?"
"Yes, but in electing him, all of us knew that his mother Victoria wouldalways be near him, guiding him, instructing him, schooling him in theart of governing men, without neglecting, worthy matron that she is, tosew her linen near the cradle of her grandson, as is her thrifty habit."
"No one knows better than I how precious the advices of Victoria to herson are to our country. But what is it, then, that has changed? Is shenot always there, watching over Victorin and Gaul that she loves withequal and paternal devotion? Come, now, Douarnek, answer me with asoldier's frankness. Whence comes the hostility that, I fear, is everspreading and deepening against Victorin, our young and brave general?"
"Listen, Schanvoch. I am, like yourself, a seasoned soldier. Yourmoustache, although younger than mine, begins to show grey streaks. Doyou want to know the truth? Here it is: We are all aware that the lifeof the camp does not make people chaste and reserved like young girlswho are brought up by our venerated female druids. We also know,because we have emptied many a cup, that our Gallic wines throw us intoa merry and riotous humor. We know, furthermore, that when he is in agarrison, the young soldier who proudly carries a cockade on his casqueand caresses his brown or blonde moustache, does not long preserve thefriendship of fathers who have handsome daughters, or of husbands whohave handsome wives. But, for all that, you will have to admit,Schanvoch, that a soldier who is habitually intoxicated like a brute,and takes cowardly advantage of women, would deserve to be treated to ahundred or more stripes laid on well upon his back, and to beignominiously driven from camp. Is not that so?"
"That is all very true, but what connection has it with Victorin?"
"Listen, friend Schanvoch, and then answer me. If an obscure soldierdeserves such treatment for his shameful conduct, what should be done toan army chief who disgraces himself in such fashion?"
"Do you venture to say that Victorin has offered violence to women andthat he is daily drunk?" I cried indignantly. "I say that you lie, orthose who carried such tales to you lied. So, these are the unworthyrumors that circulate in the camp against Victorin! And can you becredulous enough to attach faith to them?"
"Soldiers are not quite so credulous, friend Schanvoch, but they areaware of the old Gallic proverb--'The lost sheep are charged to theshepherd.' Now, for instance, you know Captain Marion, the oldblacksmith?"
"Yes, I know the brave fellow to be one of the best officers in thearmy."
"The famous Captain Marion, who can carry an ox on his shoulders," putin one of the soldiers, "and who can knock down the same ox with a blowof his fist--his arm is as heavy as the iron mace of a butcher."
"And Captain Marion," added another oarsman, "is a good comrade, for allthat, despite his strength and military renown. He took a simplesoldier, a former fellow blacksmith, for his 'friend in war,' or, asthey used to say in olden times, took the 'pledge of brotherhood' withhim."
"I am aware of the bravery, modesty, good judgment and austerity ofCaptain Marion," I answered him, "but why do you now bring in his name?"
"Have a little patience, friend Schanvoch, I shall satisfy you in aminute. Did you see the two Bohemian girls enter Mayence a few days agoin a wagon drawn by mules covered with tinkling bells and led by a Negrolad?"
"I did not see the women, but have heard them mentioned. But I mustinsist upon it, what has all this got to do with Victorin?"
"I have reminded you of the proverb--'The lost sheep are charged to theshepherd.' It would be idle to attribute habits of drunkenness andincontinence to Captain Marion, would it not? Despite all hissimpleness, the soldier would not believe a word of such slanders; notso? While, on the other hand, the soldier would be ready to believe anystory of debauchery about the said Bohemian strollers, and he wouldtrust the narrator of the tale, do you understand?"
"I understand you, Douarnek, and I shall be frank in turn. Yes, Victorinloves wine and indulges in it with some of his companions in arms. Yes,having been left a widower at the age of twenty, only a few monthsafter his marriage, Victorin has occasionally yielded to the headlongimpulses of youth. Often did his mother, as well as myself, regret thathe was not endowed with greater austerity in morals, a virtue, however,that is extremely rare at his age. But, by the anger of the gods! I, whohave never been from Victorin's side since his earliest childhood, denythat drunkenness is habitual with him; above all I deny that he ever wasbase enough to do violence to a woman!"
"Schanvoch, you defend the son of your foster-sister out of the goodnessof your heart, although you know him to be guilty--unless you really areignorant of what you deny--"
"What am I ignorant of?"
"An adventure that has raised a great scandal, and that everybody incamp knows."
"What adventure?"
"A short time ago Victorin and several officers of the army went to atavern on one of the isles near the border of the Rhine to drink andmake merry. In the evening, being by that time drunk as usual, Victorinviolated the tavern-keeper's wife, who, in her despair, threw herselfinto the river and was drowned."
"The soldier who misdemeaned himself in that manner," remarked one ofthe oarsmen, "would speedily have his head cut off by a strict chief."
"And he would have deserved the punishment," added another oarsman. "Asmuch as the next man, I would find pleasure in bantering with thetavern-keeper's wife. But to offer her violence, that is an act ofsavagery worthy only of those Frankish butchers, whose priestesses,veritable devil's cooks, boil their prisoners alive in their caldrons."
I was so stupefied by the accusation made against Victorin that Iremained silent for a moment. But my voice soon came to me and I cried:
"Calumny! A calumny as infamous as the act would have been. Who is itdares accuse Victoria's son of such a crime?"
"A well informed man," Douarnek answered me.
"His name! Give me the liar's name!"
"His name is Morix. He was the secretary of one of Victoria's relatives.He came to the camp about a month ago to confer upon grave matters."
"The relative is Tetrik, the Governor of Gascony," I said with increasedstupefaction. "The man is the incarnation of kindness and loyalty; he isone of Victoria's oldest and most faithful friends."
"All of which renders the man's testimony all the more reliable."
"What! He, Tetrik! Did Tetrik confirm what you have just said?"
"He communicated it to his secretary, and confirmed the occurrence,while deploring the shocking excesses of Victorin's dissoluteness."
"Calumny! Tetrik has only words of kindness and esteem for Victoria'sson."
"Schanvoch, I have served in the army for the last twenty-five years.Ask my officers whether Douarnek is a liar."
"I believe you to be sincere; only you have been shamefully imposedupon."
"Morix, the secretary of Tetrik, narrated the occurrence not to me onlybut to other soldiers in the camp for whose wine he was paying. We allplaced confidence in his words, because more than once did I myself andseveral others of my companions see Victorin and his friends heated withwine and indulging in crazy feats of arms."
"Does not the ardor of courage heat up young heads as much as wine?"
"Listen, Schanvoch, I have seen--with my own eyes--Victorin drive hissteed into the Rhine saying that he would cross the river on horseback;and he would certainly have been drowned had not another soldier and Irushed into a boat and fished him half drunk out of the water, while thecurrent carried his horse away. And do you know what Victorin then saidto us? 'You should have let me drink; the white wine of Beziers runs inthis stream.' What I am telling you now is no calumny, Schanvoch, I sawit with my own eyes, heard it with my own ears."
Despite my at
tachment to Victorin I could not but reply to the soldier'stestimony, saying: "I knew him to be incapable of an act of cowardiceand infamy; but I also knew him to be capable of certain acts ofextravagance and hotheadedness."
"As to myself," replied another soldier, "more than once, as I mountedguard near Victorin's house which is separated from Victoria's by alittle plot of flowers, have I seen veiled women leave his place atearly dawn. They were of all colors and sizes, blondes and brunettes,tall and short, some robust and stout, others slender and thin. Atleast, that was the impression that the women left upon me, unless thegloaming deceived my sight, and it was always the same woman."
"I notice that you are too sincere to make any answer to that, friendSchanvoch," Douarnek said to me; indeed, I could raise no objectionagainst the latter accusation. "You must, therefore, not feel surprisedat our trust in the words of Tetrik's secretary. You must admit that theman who in a drunken fit takes the Rhine for a stream of Bezier's wine,and from whose house a procession of women is seen to issue in themorning, is quite capable, in a fit of inebriety, of doing violence to atavern-keeper's wife."
"No!" I cried. "A man may be afflicted with the faults of his years inan aggravated degree, without therefore being an infamous fellow, acriminal!"
"See here, Schanvoch, you are the personal friend of our motherVictoria. You love Victorin as if he were your own son. Say to him--'Thesoldiers, even the grossest and most dissolute among them, do not liketo see their own vices reproduced in the chief whom they have chosen. Byyour conduct, the army's affection is daily withdrawn more and more fromyou and is centering wholly upon Victoria.'"
"Yes," I answered thoughtfully, "and the process started since Tetrik,the Governor of Gascony, the relative and friend of Victoria, made hislast visit to our camp. Until then our young chief was generallybeloved, despite his little foibles."
"That is true. He is so good, so brave, so kind to all! He sat his horseso well! He had so bold a military bearing! We loved the young captainas an own child! We knew him as a babe, and rode him on our knees whenstill a little fellow, during the watches in the camp! Later we shut oureyes to his foibles, because parents are ever indulgent! But there canbe no room for indulgence towards baseness!"
"And of this baseness," I replied, now more and more forcibly struck bythe circumstance, which, recalling certain incidents to my mind,awakened a vague suspicion in me, "and of these acts of baseness thereis no evidence other than the word of Tetrik's secretary?"
"The secretary repeated to us his own master's words."
During this conversation, to which I lent increasing attention, ourbark, ever moving forward under the vigorous strokes of the fouroarsmen, had traversed the Rhine and reached the opposite shore. Thesoldier's backs were turned to the bank on which we were about to land.I was so wholly absorbed in what I had just learned regarding the army'sincreasing disaffection towards Victorin, that I never once thought ofcasting my eyes upon the shore to which we were drawing near. Suddenly asharp whizz struck our ears. I cried out: "Throw yourselves down flatupon your benches!"
It was too late. A volley of long arrows flew over our boat. One of theoarsmen was instantly killed, while Douarnek, whose back was stillturned to the shore received one of the arrows in the back.
"This is the way the Franks receive parliamentarians during a truce,"remarked the veteran without dropping his oar, and even without turningaround. "This is the first time I have been hit in the back. An arrow inthe back does not become a soldier. Pull it out quick, comrade," headded, addressing the oarsman who sat behind him.
But despite his intrepidity, Douarnek managed his oar with less vigor.Although the wound that he received was not serious, his face betrayedthe pain that he felt; the blood flowed copiously.
"I told you so, Schanvoch," he proceeded to say. "I told you that yourfoliage of peace would prove a poor rampart against the treachery of theFrankish barbarians. Fall to, my lads! We must now row all the harder,seeing we are only three left. Our comrade yonder, who is bumping hisnose against his bench, with his limbs stiffened, can no longer count asan oarsman!"
Douarnek had not finished his sentence before I dashed forward to theprow of the bark, and passing over the corpse of the soldier who laydead across his bench seized one of the oak branches and waved it overmy head as a signal of peace.
A second volley of arrows, that came flying from behind an embankment ofthe river, was the only answer to my appeal. One of the missiles grazedmy arm, another broke off its point against my iron casque; but none ofthe soldiers was hit. We were then only a short distance from the shore.I threw myself into the water, swam a little distance, and as soon as myfeet struck ground called out to Douarnek:
"Pull the bark safely beyond the reach of the arrows and drop anchor,then wait for me. If I am not back after sunset, return to camp andinform Victoria that I have either been made prisoner or killed by theFranks. She will take my wife Ellen and my son Alguen under herprotection."
"I do not at all like the idea of leaving you alone in the hands ofthose barbarians, friend Schanvoch," answered Douarnek; "but to staywhere we can be killed would be to deprive you of all possible means ofreturn to our camp, should you be lucky enough to escape with your life.Courage, Schanvoch! We shall await the evening!"
And the bark pulled away, while I clambered up the embankment.