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

  CHAPTER X.

  THE MIRACLE OF ST. CAUTIN.

  It is half an hour since the approach of Count Neroweg and his leudeswas announced by the pickets. The Vagres have disappeared. There remainsin the clearing where they feasted during the night naught but theremains and evidences of their sumptuous banquet on the lawn--empty winepouches, gold and silver goblets strewn over the grassy and trampledground; not far away stand the wagons that were brought from theepiscopal villa, and further off the carcasses of the oxen lying nearthe still smouldering bake-oven. The silence in the forest is profound.Presently, one of the slaves of the villa, one of the pious guides ofthe leudes, emerges from the thicket that surrounds the clearing. Hesteps forward diffidently, listens and looks around as if apprehensiveof an ambuscade. At the sight of the evidences of the feast that liestrewn about, he seems astonished and quickly turns around. Doubtlesslyhis first impulse is to return to the troop which he precedes, but ashis eyes fall that instant upon the gold and silver vases that lie uponthe grass, he stops, turns back, runs to the booty, snatches up a goldchalice and as quickly hides it under his rags. He thereupon lifts uphis voice and calls to the leudes.

  A distant and steadily approaching noise is heard in the woods. Thebushes break down before the chests and under the iron hoofs of thehorses. Voices call and answer. Finally Count Neroweg breaks through thethicket. He is on horseback and closely followed by several leudes. Mostof his troop, as well as the footmen, being less impetuous than himself,follow at safer distance through the hedges on the way to join theirmaster. Neroweg had expected to fall unperceived upon the Vagres. Therewas, however, not a soul in sight except the slave who now ran towardshim crying:

  "Seigneur, the impious Vagres who sacked the villa of our holy bishophave fled into the forest."

  Neroweg raised his long sword and with one blow cut off the slave'shead:

  "Dog! You deceived me! You were in conspiracy with the Vagres!"

  The slave's lifeless body sank to the ground, and the hidden goldchalice rolled over the grass.

  "That gold vase is mine!" cried the count pointing at the chalice withhis sword to one of his men who followed him on foot. "Karl, put thatinto your bag--"

  These thieves always had close to their heels several men with bagsready for booty. But just as Karl was about to follow his master'sorders, the latter's eyes fell upon the other articles of gold andsilver that were taken from the episcopal villa and which now glistenedattractively in the filtering rays of the rising sun. Neroweg put thespurs to his horse, and bounding forward cried:

  "Those treasures are mine! Fill up your bag, Karl. Call Rigomer and havehim fill his bag with all that it can contain!"

  "The booty is not all for you alone, we have our share!" cried theleudes who now entered upon the clearing. "All these treasures must bedivided alike--we are your equals!"

  "We are equals in battle--equals also in the dividing of the booty--itis but fair--"

  "Do you forget that at the pillage of Soissons even the great Clovishimself did not dare to dispute a gold vase with one of his warriors?"

  "These treasures are ours as much as yours--we shall divide on thespot--"

  The count did not dare resist the demands of his leudes. Although thesewarriors ever recognized him as their chief, they likewise ever treatedhim as their equal. Several of the plunderers now alighted from theirhorses and cast covetous glances at the chalices, their covers and otherarticles of the Church, together with the goblets, dishes, bowls andmany other gold and silver utensils. Carried away by their greed, theleudes precipitated themselves upon the treasures, pushing and shovingone another, and were in the act of reaching out their hands to snatchup the precious goods, when a loud voice, that seemed to descend fromthe heavens above, thundered down upon them:

  "Hands off, sacrilegious men! God hears you! God sees you! If you dareto reach out impious hands at the goods of the Church you will be damnedforever!"

  At the sound of the voice that seemed to come from heaven Neroweg grewpale, trembled at every limb, dropped from his horse and fell upon hisknees. Several of the leudes followed his example and humbly prostratedthemselves. They were terror-stricken!

  "All on your knees, pagans that you are!" proceeded the voice in stillmore threatening accents. "All down on your knees! Accursed pillagers ofthe Church!"

  The last of the leudes who still remained on their feet droppeddistractedly on their knees, and with them the rest of the troop thatfollowed on foot and were now upon the scene. The affrighted crowd bowedtheir heads to earth and smote their chests murmuring:

  "A miracle! A miracle! It is the voice of the Lord!"

  "And now, ye miserable sinners," the voice from above proceeded tothunder in tones increasingly wrathful, "now that you have bowed down toearth before the eye of the Lord and have attested your fear of Hiswrath, rise and hasten to help His servant who--"

  The voice suddenly stopped short; the branches of a tall oak, near whichNeroweg and his leudes lay upon their knees, bent and cracked under theweight of a heavy body that was rolling down, and thus broke its fall asit landed upon the ground, but so near to the count that the latternarrowly escaped being crushed by it. This additional phenomenon addedto the terror of Neroweg and his leudes; the whole troop threwthemselves down flat upon their faces and murmured in their fright:

  "Oh Lord! Oh Lord! Have mercy upon us! Oh Lord, turn Your wrath fromus!"

  And what was it that actually tumbled down from the tree? It was BishopCautin, and his was the voice that had sounded from on high. Just beforethe arrival of the Franks, Ronan had pricked the holy man with the pointof his sword, and forced him to clamber up the tree before him and keephimself there like a fat dormouse. Ronan accompanied the holy man up thetree, and with the point of his sword drove him to speak in the name ofthe Lord. Ronan's purpose was served so long as the holy man limitedhimself to throwing Neroweg and his leudes into consternation, but assoon as the bishop evinced an inclination to call them to his aid, theVagre seized him. The sudden move choked off Cautin's sentence before hefinished, the rotund and heavy bishop slipped, and tumbling down frombranch to branch fell almost upon the back of the count. But the man ofGod was a wily customer. Although dazed for a moment by his fall, hequickly profited by the terror in which the Franks and the slaves werethrown as they lay face down, flat upon the earth. He steadied himselfupon his legs, and rubbed his sore limbs, and puffing his cheeks heshouted:

  "Miserable sinners! Adore your holy bishop who redescends from heavenupon the wings of the Lord's archangels!"

  "A miracle!" again cried the crowd with even intenser unction, andsmiting their chests with redoubled fervor. "A miracle!"

  "Holy Bishop Cautin, who descends from heaven--protect us!"

  "Is it your voice I hear, holy father?" queried Neroweg in a subduedvoice without daring to raise his face from the ground or looking up."Is it your own voice, holy bishop, or is it a snare that Satan spreadsfor us?"

  "It is myself--your bishop--to doubt it is sacrilege!"

  "Whence come you, good father?"

  "I descend from heaven. After the sack of the episcopal villa, andseeing me carried away a captive by the Vagres--be they foreveraccursed!--the Lord sent His exterminating angels to my aid. They wereclad in armor of hyacinthe, and armed with flaming swords. They snatchedme from the hands of the Philistines, took me on their azure wings, andcarried me to heaven--"

  "A miracle!" cried the entranced crowd in chorus. "A miracle!"

  "Our holy bishop has seen the face of the Lord! Hosanna!"

  "St. Cautin," cried up Neroweg, "you will protect me, dear patron saint,my dear father in Christ! Will you not bless your son?"

  "Yes, I will bless you--provided always you prostrate yourself beforethe bishop of the Lord, and you enrich the Church!"

  "I shall have a chapel built in your honor on this very spot, holybishop, in order to glorify this miracle--"

  "That is far from enough--no, that is not enough. Listen, count,
listenattentively:

  "Neroweg and his leudes fled like cowards from the episcopal villa whenit was attacked by the Vagres.

  "I order that the count relinquish one quarter of his goods to me, thebishop of Clermont; I order that he rebuild the episcopal villa, whichhe allowed the Vagres to set on fire, and that he richly ornament it.

  "I furthermore order that Count Neroweg pursue the Vagres without let,that he capture and put them to death--all of them, but especially theirchief and a relapsed hermit, a renegade, an idolater who accompanies theaccursed men.

  "Finally, I order that the count burn to death, over a slow fire, acertain Moabite woman, a witch, an infernal wench, who once was bound tome by the bonds of holy matrimony.

  "Let Count Neroweg carry out these, my orders; only at that price shallhis sins be remitted, and on the day of his death I shall admit him intoparadise.

  "That is the message that the Lord entrusted me to bear to you. Amen!"

  Neroweg and a few of the leudes rose upon their knees open-mouthed. Asthey did so they perceived two bearded Vagres with their bows betweentheir teeth crawling like serpents along a large branch in order toreach a spot from which, skilful archers that they were, they could takedeliberate aim at their foes and nail them to the sod.

  "Treason!" cried the count jumping to his feet and pointing to the tree."Treason! The Vagres are there, hidden in the tree branches!"

  Hardly had the count said these words when a volley of arrows flew fromthe tree-top and riddled his troop. Finding themselves discovered, thedaring Vagres hesitated not one instant to engage in battle. So accuratewas the aim of the archers that every arrow found its quiver in theflesh of a foe.

  "This is for you, Neroweg!" cried Ronan from the branch on which he wasperched. "This is for you, the descendant of the Terrible Eagle! Theregoes the Vagre's arrow!"

  Unfortunately the arrow's head was flattened out against the iron casqueof the count. The other Vagres who, until now had remained hidden in thebushes, rushed forward with loud yells and intrepidly attacked the troopof Neroweg. The combat became general.

  Who were the vanquishers in that combat? The Vagres or the Franks?

  Malediction! After a stubborn struggle, almost all the Vagres wereslain. A few who escaped the sword and others who were too severelywounded to flee remained prisoners in the hands of Neroweg. Ronan, theVagre, was among the latter. The superiority of arms prevailed over merecourage.

  And Loysik? And little Odille? And the bishopess?

  All prisoners--yes, they were all taken to the burg of the Frankishcount, while Bishop Cautin, carrying with him his gold and silver vases,regained Clermont followed by a pious crowd of slaves who cried on hispassage:

  "Glory to our holy bishop! Glory to the blessed Cautin! Hosanna!"

  PART III

  THE BURG OF NEROWEG