The personage who now entered the apartment was an undersized man of middle age. His face was refined and gentle; an affable smile played permanently around his lips. In short, his exterior bespoke so fully the man of honor that, seeing him enter, Victoria could not refrain from casting at me a look that still seemed to reproach me for my suspicions.
Tetrik walked straight to Victoria, kissed her on the forehead with paternal familiarity and said:
"Greeting to you, Victoria!"
And approaching the cradle in which the grandson of the Mother of the Camps still slept, the Governor of Gascony contemplated the child with tenderness, and added, in a low voice, as if afraid to awaken him:
"Sleep, poor little one! You are smiling in your infantine dreams, and you know not that, perhaps, the future of our beloved Gaul may rest upon your head. Sleep, little fellow, predestined, no doubt, to carry out the task that your glorious father has undertaken! A noble task that will engage his efforts for many long years under the inspiration of your august grandmother! Sleep, poor little one," Tetrik added, with eyes dimmed with tears of tenderness, "the gods that are propitious to Gaul will watch over you—you will grow up for the welfare of your country!"
While her relative wiped his moist eyes, Victoria again interrogated me with her looks, as if asking me whether such was the language and the physiognomy of a traitor, of a cowardly hypocrite, of a man who was a perfidious enemy of the child's father.
Turning then to me, Tetrik said affectionately:
"Greeting to the best, the most faithful friend of the woman whom I most love and venerate in the world; greeting to Victoria's foster-brother."
"Your speech is true. I am the obscurest but also the most devoted friend of Victoria," I answered looking fixedly at Tetrik, "and it is the duty of a friend to unmask scamps and traitors."
"I am of your opinion, friend Schanvoch," Tetrik answered with simplicity. "A friend's first duty is to unmask scamps and traitors. I fear the roaring lion with its jaws wide open less than the serpent that creeps in the dark."
"Now, then, I, Schanvoch, have this to say to you, Tetrik. You are one of the dangerous reptile that you have just mentioned. I consider you a traitor! And I purpose to unmask your treason!"
"Schanvoch!" cried Victoria interrupting me in a reproachful tone.
"I perceive that the old Gallic love for raillery, one of our franchises, has returned with our gods and our freedom," replied the governor smiling.
And turning to Victoria he added:
"Our friend Schanvoch possesses the art of dry humor—the most amusing of all—"
"My brother speaks seriously and out of an honorable impulse," the Mother of the Camps broke in saying. "And I grieve thereat, since I know that he is mistaken; but he is sincere in his error—"
Tetrik let his eyes wander alternately from Victoria to me with no little amazement; for a moment he was silent; thereupon he said in a serious and penetrating voice:
"All faithful friends are quick to suspect. Good Schanvoch, your distrust is inexplicable to me; but it must have its reason. The attack was frank, frank shall be the answer. Let us settle the question. What is your charge against me?"
"About a month ago you came to Mayence. A man of your retinue, your secretary, Morix by name and well supplied with money, gave the soldiers to drink and at the same time endeavored to irritate them against Victorin, saying to them that it was disgraceful that their general, one of the two chiefs of regenerated Gaul, should be a drunkard and a profligate. Did your secretary hold such language, yes or no? I wait for your answer."
"Proceed, friend Schanvoch, proceed—"
"Your secretary told a story that, being subsequently spread through the camp, has greatly irritated the soldiers against Victorin. This was the story: A few months ago, Victorin and several officers went to a tavern on one of the isles in the Rhine; after having drunk copiously, Victorin, excited by the wine, violated the innkeeper's wife, and she thereupon killed herself in despair—"
"Calumny!" cried Victoria. "I know and condemn my son's faults—but he is incapable of such an infamous act!"
The governor listened to me without betraying the slightest emotion. Presently he said with a smile and his habitual placidity of countenance:
"So, then, good Schanvoch, it is your opinion that, obedient to orders received from me, my secretary spread unworthy calumnies in the camp?"
"Yes. It is all done with your knowledge and consent."
"And what could be my motive?"
"You are ambitious—"
"And in what manner could such calumnies subserve my ambition?"
"If the dissatisfaction of the soldiers with Victorin, whom they elected, continues, you would then use your influence with Victoria to the end of inducing her to propose you to the soldiers as Victorin's successor in the government of Gaul."
"A mother! Did you stop to consider that, good Schanvoch?" Tetrik answered looking at Victoria. "A mother sacrifice a son to a friend!"
"In the greatness of her love for her country, Victoria would certainly sacrifice her son to your elevation if the measure became necessary to the welfare of Gaul. Am I mistaken, sister?"
"No," Victoria answered me evidently grieved at my accusations against her relative; "in that you say the truth, but as to the inferences that you draw therefrom, I reject them."
"And that heroic sacrifice, good Schanvoch," resumed the governor, "Victoria is expected to make knowing that it was through my underground calumnies that her son's reputation was blasted with the soldiers?"
"My sister would not have been aware of your intrigues had I not unmasked them. Besides, more than once did I hear her say, and justly say, that in case peace was established, it would be better for the country if its chief, instead of being ever prone to battle, gave serious thought to the healing of the wounds inflicted by the past wars. She often mentioned you as one of the men who wisely prefer peace to war."
"It is true, I hold that the sword, good to destroy, is impotent to reconstruct," remarked Victoria; "and the freedom of Gaul once firmly established, I would prefer to see my son give more thought to peace than to war. It was, therefore, Schanvoch, that I commissioned you with one last attempt with the Franks, looking to the restoration of peace."
"Allow that I interrupt you, Victoria," put in Tetrik, "and that I ask our friend Schanvoch whether he has any other charges against me."
"I charge you with being either the secret agent of the Roman Emperor Galien, or the agent of the chief of the new creed, Roman Catholicism."
"I!" cried the governor. "I the agent of the Christians!"
"I said the agent of the chief of the new creed. I refer to the Bishop of Rome, who entitles himself 'Sovereign Pontiff.'"
"I the agent of Etienne, the Bishop of Rome, and fourteenth Pope of the new church?—of that Pope, of whom Firmilien, the Bishop of Caesarea, wrote to Cyprian, the presiding officer of the Spanish council, composed of twenty-eight bishops: 'Would one believe that that man (Pope Etienne) had a soul in his body? Evidently his body is but ill conducted, and his soul is in a disordered condition. Etienne does not stick at calling his brother Cyprian a false Christ, a false apostle, a fraudulent artisan; in order to forestall having these things said of himself, he has the audacity to make the accusation against others.' And can I be the agent of that ambitious pontiff! Of that simoniacal bishop, who is given over to all manner of vices!"
"Yes—unless that, deceiving at once both the Roman Emperor and the Pope of Rome, you are serving both, ready to sacrifice the one or the other, according as your ambition may require."
"That I serve the Romans is a thing that I am ready to admit," Tetrik answered with his unalterable placidity. "However unjust your suspicion towards me, it may be understood, as an instance of extreme patriotism. We are well aware that, although we have succeeded, by force of arms, to reconquer during nearly three centuries, inch by inch the full freedom once enjoyed by old Gaul, the Roman Emperors have seen with sorrow our country slip from their dominion. Accordingly, I can understand, Schanvoch, how you might accuse me of desiring to arrive at power in Gaul, with the end in view of sooner or later restoring the country to the Romans, although in doing so I would be betraying it most infamously. But is it imaginable that I act in the interest of the Pope of the Christians, of those unhappy people who are everywhere persecuted and martyrized? It is not a sane thought! What could I do for them? What could they do for me?"
Schanvoch was about to answer. Victoria interrupted him with a gesture and said to Tetrik while she pointed to the cross of black wood, the emblem of the death of Jesus, that was placed near the brass vase with the seven twigs of mistletoe, a druid symbol much in use among the Gauls:
"Look at that cross, Tetrik, it tells you that, without infidelity to our own gods, I nevertheless venerate him who said that no man has the right to oppress his fellows; that the guilty merit pity and consolation, not contempt and severity; and that the irons of the slave should be stricken off. Blessed be these maxims, Tetrik; the wisest of our druids have accepted them as holy; accordingly, you may judge how dearly I love the gentle and pure morality of that young man of Nazareth. But listen, Tetrik," Victoria added pensively, "there is something unexplainable, strange and mysterious that makes me shudder. Yes, many a time and oft, during my long watches beside the cradle of my grandson, and when I pondered the present and the past, tormenting thoughts crowded upon my mind concerning the future of our well-beloved Gaul."
"And whence does your terror proceed?" Tetrik asked. "What is its cause?"
"That for three successive centuries Rome was the implacable foe of Gaul," Victoria answered; "that for so many centuries Rome was the merciless scourge of the world!"
"Rome?" replied the governor. "Pagan Rome?"
"Yes. The tyranny that weighed down upon the world had its seat in Rome," rejoined Victoria. "Now, then, I ask myself, by what strange fatality have the bishops, the Popes of the new creed, who aspire to reign over the universe by ruling the sovereigns of the world, been led to establish the seat of their empire in Rome? Jesus of Nazareth branded the high priests as liars and hypocrites. He preached above all, humility, forgiveness, equality, fraternity among men, and lo! in his apotheosized name, we now see a new hierarchy of high priests arising, pretending to be the rulers of the world, and already, as Pope Etienne, meriting the charges of ambition, deception and intolerance, even from their fellow Christian bishops!"
"Is it you, Victoria, who hold such language?" Tetrik interrupted her saying: "You so wise, so enlightened—can you fear the future of Gaul to be endangered by those unhappy people who bear witness to their faith by their martyrdom?"
"Oh!" cried the Mother of the Camps with exaltation. "I love, I admire those poor Christians who die in torture while proclaiming the equality of man before God, the liberation of the slaves, the community of goods, love and forgiveness for the guilty! I love, I admire those poor Christians who die on the scaffold and proclaim in the name of Jesus: 'Those are monsters of iniquity who hold their brothers in bondage, who leave them to suffer in cold and hunger, instead of sharing with them their bread and their cloak.' Oh! pity and veneration for those heroic martyrs! But I stand in dread of those people who call themselves the chiefs, the Popes of the Christians. Yes, I stand in dread of those high priests who have fixed upon Rome as the seat of their mysterious empire!—in that city, the center of the most frightful tyranny that has ever crushed down the human race! I fear for the future of Gaul from that quarter."
"Victoria," again Tetrik interrupted, saying: "You exaggerate the power of those Christian pontiffs. Have not large numbers of them, persecuted by the Roman Emperors, undergone martyrdom, like any other neophytes?"
"Every battle has its dead, and the Popes struggle with the Emperors in order to wrench from these the dominion over the world! Among those bishops there have been many who have spoken and died like Jesus. But if there are some worthy pontiffs among them, and they are few, the domination of the priests is not, for that, any the less dread a visitation upon the people. Has not the government of our own priests been despotic and merciless? Did not the druids leave the people for over ten centuries steeped in crassest ignorance, governing them with the instruments of barbarism—superstition and terror? Did not those days of oppression and debasement last until the glorious and prosperous epoch when, merged in the body of the nation as citizens, fathers and soldiers, our druids took part in the common life of the people, in the joys of the family, and in the national wars against the foreigner? What I apprehend for the future of the nations is that some day there may be established in Rome a murky alliance between the Pope and the most powerful Emperors and Kings of the world! Unhappy will that day be for the peoples! From such an alliance a frightful political and religious tyranny will be born, and it will be watered with the blood of fresh martyrs! Woe, then, to the peoples! They will once more be made to bend under a pitiless theocratic yoke!"
As she uttered these words, Victoria seemed inspired by the prophetic genius of the female druids of olden times. Tetrik listened to her in silence, but instead of answering, he resumed with a smile:
"See how far we have wandered from the charges that our friend Schanvoch has preferred against me—and yet, Victoria, your words, regarding the apprehension that the Christian high priests, as you style them, fill you with for the future, in a manner bring us back to the charges. So, then, Schanvoch, the purpose of the perfidies that you charge me with is to arrive at power in Gaul, to the end of betraying the country to pagan or to Catholic Rome?"
"Yes, that is my opinion."
"Schanvoch, I shall not need many words for my defense. One of my secretaries did seek to arouse the hostility of our soldiers against Victorin. Your revelation comes rather late—"
"I learned the facts only yesterday."
"That is of no consequence," he replied, "that secretary was dismissed by me just because I learned that, irritated at Victorin for having railed at him several times, he sought to revenge himself by spreading against the general calumnies that were even more ridiculous and odious. But let us drop these petty matters. I am ambitious, you say, friend Schanvoch! I aim at the government of Gaul, even if, in order to accomplish my purpose, I should have to resort to unworthy intrigues! Now, ask Victoria what errand brings me back to Mayence."
"Tetrik believes that the peace and prosperity of Gaul require that the soldiers be induced to proclaim my son's son the heir of his father's office. Tetrik believes he can count upon the consent of Emperor Galien."
"Tetrik must, then, anticipate the speedy death of Victorin," I answered looking fixedly at the governor.
He, however, whose eyes were rarely met, seeing he kept them habitually lowered, answered:
"The Franks are on the other side of the Rhine—and Victorin is of temerarious bravery. My ardent wish is that he may live many more years; but death has no respect even for the most valuable life. It is my opinion that Gaul would find a pledge of security for the future if it knew that after Victorin the power would remain with the son of him whom the army acclaimed its chief, especially seeing that the child would have for his instructress Victoria, the Mother of the Camps."
"But in case Victoria were to die, who tells me, Tetrik, that you would not have yourself appointed the child's tutor, exercise the power in his name, and in that manner arrive at the government of Gaul?"
"Are you speaking seriously, Schanvoch?" Tetrik replied. "Ask Victoria whether she needs my help in order to render her grandson worthy of her and of the country? Do you imagine she is one of those weak women who feel forced to share a glorious task with others? Is not the idolatry that the soldiers entertain for her a sufficient guarantee that, in the event of Victorin's premature death, she could preserve alone the wardship of her grandson and govern in his name?"
Victoria shook her head thoughtfully and sadly, and said:
"I do not like your project of transmitting the office by inheritance, Tetrik. What! Shall a child, still in his cradle, be designated to the soldiers for their choice! Who knows what may become of this child?"
"Has he not you for his teacher?" asked Tetrik.
"Have I not been the teacher and instructress of Victorin also?" the Mother of the Camps answered sadly. "And yet, despite all my vigilant cares, my son has defects that serve as the basis for frightful calumnies. But of these, I sincerely assure you, Tetrik, I hold you guiltless; and I now hope that my brother Schanvoch will join me in doing justice to your loyalty."
"I said so before, I repeat it now—I suspect this man!" I answered Victoria.
She replied with impatience: "And I said so before and repeat it now—you are a head of iron, a genuine Breton head, rebellious to all reason, the moment a notion takes root in your brain."
Instinctively convinced of Tetrik's perfidy, but having no more proofs against him, I said nothing more.
But Tetrik resumed with a smile, and without betraying the slightest perturbation:
"Neither you nor I, Victoria, could convince our good Schanvoch of his error. Let us leave that to an irresistible seductress—Truth. It will with time furnish the evidence of my loyalty. We shall return later, Victoria, to your repugnance in the matter of causing the army to acclaim your grandson the heir of his father's office. I still expect to overcome your scruples. But as I came in I saw one of your officers who seemed to await his turn for an audience. Do you not think it well to let him come in? It is Captain Marion, the old blacksmith, whom you introduced to me at my first trip to the camp as one of the bravest men in the army."
"His valor matches his disposition and good judgment," replied the Mother of the Camps. "The man has a noble heart and is a faithful friend. Despite his promotion, he has continued to love as a brother one of the old companions of his trade, who remained a simple soldier."
"Even at the risk of being again taken for an iron head, I am of the opinion that in the matter of this affection the good heart of Captain Marion misleads his judgment. I can only hope, Victoria, that your blindness may not be as complete as Captain Marion's."
"Do you mean that the faithful companion of Captain Marion is his enemy?" queried Victoria. "You are singularly mistrustful to-day, brother!"
When I alluded to Captain Marion and his friend I again sought to catch the eyes of the Governor of Gascony, but in vain. Nevertheless it was with no slight surprise that I noticed him slightly start with joy when I asserted that Captain Marion had a secret foe in his camp companion. Ever master over himself, Tetrik doubtlessly feared that slight as was his manifestation of joy it might not have escaped me. He said:
"Envy is so revolting a feeling that I can never hear it mentioned without it makes a painful impression upon me. I feel positively grieved at what Schanvoch, who in this respect also, I hope, may be mistaken, tells us of the comrade of Captain Marion. But, should my presence prevent you from receiving the captain, Victoria, I shall withdraw."
"On the contrary, I wish you to be present at the interview that I am to have with Marion and my brother Schanvoch. They were given important commissions by my son, and yet," she added with a sigh, "the morning is passing, and my son is not yet home!"
At that very moment the door of the room was thrown open, and Victorin entered accompanied by Captain Marion.
The son of Victoria the Great was then in his twenty-third year. I told you, my son, that several medals were struck on which he figured in the guise of the god Mars beside his mother, who wore on her head a casque resembling that of the antique Minerva. Indeed, Victorin could have served as a model for a statue of the god of war. Tall, supple, robust, with a shape at once elegant and martial, he pleased all eyes. His features, imprinted with the rare beauty of his mother's, differed from them by an expression of mirthfulness and daring. The openness and generosity of his character was clearly visible on his face. On seeing him, one forgot, despite himself, the defects that marred that manly being, too vivacious and too fiery to curb the impulses of his age. Victorin doubtlessly came from a night of pleasure; yet his face looked as fresh as if he had just left his bed. A felt coif, ornamented with a little brooch, half covered his black hair, that fell in luxuriant ringlets around his virile and browned face. His Gallic blouse, made of silken fabric striped white and purple, was held around his waist by a silver-embroidered leather belt, from which hung his curiously chiseled gold hilted sword—a veritable masterpiece of Autun goldsmithing. Upon entering his mother's room followed by Captain Marion, Victorin proceeded straight to her with a mixture of tenderness and respect. He dropped upon one knee, took and kissed one of her hands, removed his head-cover, and, reaching up his forehead for her to kiss, said:
"Greeting to my mother!"
There was so touching a charm in the young general's features and posture, there on his knee before his mother, that I noticed her hesitate for a second between the desire to embrace the son whom she adored and the inclination to express her dissatisfaction with him. She gently pushed Victorin's head back with her hand, and said in a grave voice while pointing at the cradle that stood near:
"Embrace your son—you have not seen him since yesterday."
The young general understood the indirect reproach; he rose sadly, approached the cradle, took up the child in his arms, and embraced him effusively while his eyes wandered over to his mother, as if to tell her that he was indemnifying himself for her maternal severity.
Captain Marion had drawn close to me and said in a low voice:
"After all, Victorin has a good heart. How he does love his mother! How he cherishes his child! He surely is as much attached to them as I am to my friend Eustace, who constitutes my whole family. What a pity that that pest of profligacy" (the good captain hardly ever spoke without throwing in those words) "so frequently has the young man fast in its claws!"
"It is a misfortune! But do you believe Victorin capable of the infamous act that he is charged with in camp?" I inquired from the captain loud enough to be heard by Tetrik, who, speaking with Victoria in a low voice, seemed to be reproaching her for her severity towards her son.
"No, by the devil!" was Marion's quick answer. "I do not believe Victorin capable of such indignities—least way when I see him there between his mother and child."
After carefully placing his child back into the cradle and kissing its outstretched hands, the young general said affectionately to the Governor of Gascony:
"Greeting to Tetrik! I always love to see among us my mother's wise and faithful friend."
And turning towards me:
"I knew that you had returned, Schanvoch. When I heard the news my heart filled with joy—with as much joy as I felt apprehension during your absence. These Frankish bandits have often shown us how little they respect truces and parliamentarians."
But doubtlessly noticing the sadness that still marked the visage of Victoria, her son approached her and said with as much frankness as tender deference:
"Listen, mother—before you broach the matter of Captain Marion's and Schanvoch's messages, let me tell you what I have upon my heart; it might unwrinkle your brow, and I might no longer read on it the displeasure that afflicts me. Tetrik is a kind relative, Captain Marion is our friend, Schanvoch your brother—I can here speak freely. Admit it, mother, you are annoyed that I spent the night out of the house, are you not?"
"Your disorderly conduct grieves me, Victorin—and it grieves me still more to see that my voice is no longer heard by you."
"Mother, I shall make a full confession to you; but I swear that I have upbraided myself more severely for my weakness than you could have done yourself. Last evening, faithful to my promise of discussing fully with you the grave matters that we have in hand, I went home betimes; I had declined—Oh! heroically declined an invitation to take supper with three of the captains of the legions that recently arrived at Mayence from Beziers. Vain were all their praises of the kegs of fine old wines, of that country of wine par excellence, that they brought with them carefully stowed away in their war chariots to celebrate their safe arrival. I remained unmoved. They then tried to win me over by speaking of two strolling Bohemian songstresses, Kidda and Flora—pardon me, mother, for pronouncing the names of such women before you, but truthfulness compels me to do so. These Bohemian girls, my tempters said to me, had recently arrived in Mayence; they described them as wondrously beautiful, frisky as demons, magnificent dancers, and singers like nightingales! Certes, there was enough to tempt me in such a description."
"Ah! I see it—I see it clearly approaching, that pest of profligacy—I see it creeping towards him on its velvet feet, like a wily and hungry tigress!" Marion cried. "How I would like to make those brazen Bohemian she-devils dance on sheets of red-hot iron! It is only then they would sing tunes to suit my ears—"
"I was even wiser than you, brave Marion," Victorin proceeded to say; "I did not wish to see and hear them dance and sing in any way; I ran precipitately away from my tempters to come here—"
"It is easy to say that; run away?—that pest of profligacy has legs as long as its arms and teeth!" the captain said. "It surely overtook you, Victorin!"
"Deign to listen to me, mother," Victorin resumed, seeing my foster-sister make a gesture of disgust and impatience. "I was only two hundred paces from the house—the night was dark—a woman wrapped in a hooded cloak accosted me."
"Now they are three!" cried the good captain clasping his hands. "We now have the two Bohemian girls reinforced by a hooded woman. Oh, unfortunate Victorin! You have no idea what diabolical snares lie hidden under those hoods—my friend Eustace would surely succumb and wind up by being hooded himself—but I would flee!"
"'My father is an old soldier,' the woman said to me," proceeded Victorin with his narrative. "'One of his old wounds opened, he is dying; he knew you as a child, Victorin; he does not wish to die without once more pressing the hand of his young general; you will not refuse such a favor to my dying father, will you?' Such was the tale of the unknown woman; she spoke in accents that went straight to my heart. What would you have done, mother?"
"Despite my dread of women's hoods, I would have gone and seen the poor old soldier," answered the captain. "Certes, I would have gone, seeing that my presence would render death sweeter to him."
"Well, I did what you would have done, Marion. I followed the unknown woman; we arrived at a rickety house; it was dark; the door opened; my female guide seized my hand; led by her, I took a few steps in the darkness. Suddenly the glare of lights fell upon my eyes and dazed me. The three captains of the Beziers legions and other officers surrounded me. The veiled woman dropped her wraps, and I recognized—"
"One of the cursed Bohemian girls!" cried the captain. "Ha! I told you so, Victorin! Women's hoods hide frightful things!"
"Frightful? Alas, no, Marion! I had not the courage to shut my eyes. I was immediately surrounded from all sides; the other Bohemian girl ran out of a room and joined my captors. The doors were locked. I was dragged to a seat of honor at a banquet table. Kidda placed herself at my right, Flora at my left; and before me, upon a table loaded with eatables, rose one of the kegs of old and divine nectar, as the accursed fellows informed me; and—"
"And day surprised you in that fresh orgy," said Victoria interrupting her son. "You thus forgot amidst the pleasures of the table and debauchery the hour that summoned you to me! Is that an excuse?"
"No, dear mother, it is a confession—I was weak—but as truly as Gaul is free, I would have come dutifully home to you, but for the ruse by which I was misled and kept away. Will you not be indulgent towards me, mother, this once? I pray you!" saying which Victorin again knelt down before my foster-sister. "Be not so severe! I know my faults! Age will cure me! I am still too young, and my blood is still too warm. The ardor of pleasure often carries me away, despite myself—and yet, you know, mother, I would give my life for you—"
"I believe you—but yet you will not sacrifice to me your insensate and evil passions—"
"When one sees Victorin so respectful and repentant at his mother's feet," I whispered to Marion, "would one think he is the celebrated general, so dreaded by the enemies of Gaul—the general, who, at the age of twenty-two already has won five great battles?"
"Victoria," said Tetrik in his kind and insinuating voice, "I also am a father and inclined to indulgence. Besides, in my hours of recreation, I am a poet, and I wrote an ode to Youth. How could I be severe? I love Victorin's brilliant qualities so much, that I find it hard to censure him! Could you be insensible to the tender words of your son? His only crime is his youth. As he said, years will cure that—and his affection for you, his deference to your wishes will hasten the cure—"
As the Governor of Gascony was saying these words, a great noise was heard outside of the house, and the cry was soon heard:
"To arms! To arms!"
Victoria, who was seated, quickly rose to her feet, together with Victorin.
"They cry to arms!" repeated Captain Marion anxiously, and listened.
"The Franks must have broken the truce!" I cried in turn. "Yesterday one of their chiefs threatened me with a speedy attack upon our camp; I did not believe they would put their threat so quickly into action."
"A truce is never broken before its expiration, without notice is given in advance," observed Tetrik.
"The Franks are barbarians; they are capable of any act of treachery," cried Victoria rushing to the door.
It opened before an officer covered with dust, and so breathless that he could not at first utter a word.
"Do you not belong to the post of the camp's vanguard, four leagues from here?" the young general asked the officer; he knew personally all the officers of the army. "What has happened?"
"A large number of rafts, loaded with troops and towed by barks, hove in sight towards the middle of the Rhine, when, upon orders of the commander of the post, I rode hither at full speed to bring the news to you, Victorin. By this hour the Frankish hordes must have disembarked. The post that I left is too weak to resist a whole army, and must have fallen back upon the camp. While crossing the camp I cried to arms! The legions and cohorts are forming in all haste."
"It is the barbarians' answer to the message that Schanvoch took to them," said the Mother of the Camps to Victorin.
"What answer did the Franks give you?" the young general asked me.
"Neroweg, one of the principal kings of their army, rejected all idea of peace," I said to Victorin. "The barbarians are set upon invading Gaul and subjugating us. I threatened their chief with a war of extermination. He answered me insolently that the sun would not rise six times before he would fall upon our camp, set fire to our tents, pillage our baggage and carry off Victoria the Great—"
"If they are on the march upon us, we have not a minute to spare!" cried Tetrik in a fright addressing the young general, who, calm and collected, with his arms crossed over his chest, was reflecting in silence. "We must act, and act quickly!"
"Before acting," answered Victorin, "we must reflect."
"But," replied the governor, "suppose the Franks move with forced marches upon the camp?"
"So much the better!" Victorin said impatiently. "So much the better! We shall let them draw near to us!"
Victorin's answer astonished Tetrik, and I must admit, I would myself have been astonished and even alarmed at hearing the young general speak of temporizing in the presence of an imminent attack, had I not had innumerable proofs of his unerring judgment. His mother made a sign to the governor not to disturb her son in his meditation upon the plan of battle, which, undoubtedly, he was revolving in his mind, and said to Marion:
"You arrived this morning from your trip to the inhabitants on the other side of the Rhine, who are so often pillaged by these barbarians. What is the plan of those tribes?"
"Too weak to act single-handed, they are ready to join us at the first call. Fires, that we are to light either by day or night on the hill of Berak, will give them the signal. There will be men on the watch for them. The moment the signal is given they will start on the march. One of our best captains shall head a troop of picked soldiers across the river and effect a junction with them, while the bulk of our army shall simultaneously operate upon this side."
"The plan is excellent, Captain Marion," observed Victoria approvingly. "Especially at this juncture, such an alliance is of great service to us. Your eyes have, as usual, seen rightly."
"If one has good eyes, he must seek to put them to the best use possible," the captain answered with his wonted affability. "That is what I said to my friend Eustace."
"What friend is that?" asked Victoria. "Whom do you refer to?"
"I refer to a soldier—my old companion at the anvil. I took him with me on the journey that I am now back from. Thus, instead of ruminating over my little projects all to myself, I uttered them aloud to my friend Eustace. He is discreet; by no means a fool; true enough, he is as peevish as the devil, and he often grumbles at me, whereat I profit not a little."
"I am aware of your friendship for that soldier," replied Victoria. "Your affection does you honor."
"To love an old friend is a simple and natural matter. I said to him: 'Do you see, Eustace, one day or other those Frankish skinners will undertake a decisive attack upon us. In order to protect their retreat, they will leave a body of reserve to protect their camp and wagons. That reserve will not be too large a morsel for our allied tribes to swallow, especially if they are reinforced by a picked legion in command of one of our own captains. So that if those skinners are beaten on this side of the Rhine, their retreat will be cut off on the other side of the river.' What I then foresaw is coming about to-day. The Franks are attacking us; I think we should forthwith send word to the allied tribes, and follow that with some picked troops, commanded by a captain of energy, prudence and skill—"
"That captain will be yourself, Marion," Victoria quickly put in interrupting the captain.
"I? Very well! I know the country. My plan is quite simple. While the Franks are marching upon us, I shall cross the Rhine, and there burn their wagons and cut the reserve to pieces. Let Victorin deliver battle on our side of the river; the Franks will then try to re-cross the Rhine; there they will find me and my friend Eustace ready to meet them with something else than a glad hand to help them disembark. And their hopes will be dashed when they learn that camp, reserves and wagons have all gone up in flames."
"Marion," replied my foster-sister after having carefully listened to the captain, "victory is certain if you carry out the plan with your customary bravery and coolness."
"I have great good hopes. My friend Eustace said to me in a more than usually querulous voice: 'Your plan is not so very stupid; it is not so very stupid.' I know from experience that the approval of Eustace has always brought me good luck."
"Victoria," Tetrik approached saying in a low voice and no longer able to control his uneasiness, "I am not a man of war. I repose complete confidence in the military genius of your son. But an enemy twice as strong as ourselves is drawing nearer by the minute—and Victorin, still absorbed in his meditations, decides nothing, orders nothing!"
"He told you rightly that before acting, one must think," answered Victoria. "The power of calm reflection, at the moment of danger, is the sign of a wise and prudent captain. Would it not be folly to run blindly ahead of danger?"
Suddenly Victorin clapped his hands, leaped to his mother's neck, embraced her and cried:
"Mother—Hesus inspires me. Not one of the barbarians who crossed the river will escape, and the peace of Gaul will be assured for many years. Your project is excellent, Captain Marion; it fits in with my own plan of battle, as if we had jointly conceived it!"
"What! Did you hear me?" asked the astonished captain. "I thought you were wrapped up in your own thoughts!"
"However absorbed a lover may seem to be, he always overhears what is said of his sweetheart, my brave Marion," was Victorin's mirthful answer. "My sovereign mistress is war!"
"Again that pest of profligacy!" Captain Marion whispered to me. "Alack! It pursues him even in his thoughts of battle!"
"Marion," remarked Victorin, "we have on this side of the Rhine two hundred and ten barks of war propelled by six oars—have we?"
"About that number, and well equipped!"
"Fifty of them will suffice for you to transport the reinforcement of picked troops that you are to take to our allies. The remaining hundred and sixty, manned by ten soldier oarsmen provided with axes, besides twenty picked archers, will hold themselves ready to descend the Rhine as far as the promontory of Herfel, where they will wait for further instructions. Issue this order to the captain of the flotilla before you embark."
"It shall be done—rely upon me!"
"Carry out your plan, brave Marion, from point to point. Cut the Frankish reserve to pieces, burn their camp and wagons. Ours is the day if I succeed in forcing the barbarians to retreat," said Victorin.
"And you will, Victorin! I shall run for my friend, Eustace, and carry out your orders."
Before leaving the room Captain Marion drew his sword, presented the hilt to the Mother of the Camps and making the military salute, said:
"Touch this sword with your hand if you please, Victoria—it will be a good augury for the day."
"Go, brave and good Marion," answered the Mother of the Camps returning the weapon after she had clasped the hilt with a virile hand; "go, Hesus is with Gaul!"
"Our battle cry shall be, 'Victoria!' and it will resound from one bank of the river to the other," Marion exclaimed with exaltation; and leaving precipitately he added: "I shall run for my friend Eustace, and then to our barks! to our barks!"
As Marion was rushing out of the room, several chiefs of legions and cohorts, having learned of the landing of the Franks from the officer who brought the tidings to the camp—tidings that rapidly spread among the soldiers—hastened to Victorin in order to receive the orders of their general.
"Place yourselves at the head of your detachments," he said to them, "and march to the parade ground. I shall join you there and assign you your posts in battle. I wish first to confer with my mother."
"We well know your valor and military genius," answered the oldest of the chiefs of the cohorts, a robust old man with a white beard. "Your mother, the angel of Gaul, watches by your side; we shall await your orders confident of victory."
"Mother," said the young general in touching accents, "your pardon, here before all, and a kiss from you will give me the needed courage for this day of bloody battle!"
"The excesses of my son have often saddened my heart, as they have the hearts of you all who have known him since his earliest days," said Victoria to the chiefs of the cohorts; "I hope you will forgive him as I do."
Saying this she clasped her son passionately to her heart.
"Infamous calumnies against Victorin have floated about the camp," the old captain proceeded to say. "We gave them no credence; but, less enlightened than ourselves, the soldier is ever hasty in censure as he is in praise. Follow the instructions of your august mother, Victorin, and no longer offer a handle to calumny. We shall wait for your orders on the parade ground; rely upon us, as we do upon you."
"You speak to me like a father," answered Victorin deeply moved by the simple and dignified words of the old captain. "I shall hearken to your words as a son; your old experience guided me on the field of battle when I was still a child; your example made me the soldier that I am; to-day and always I shall strive to approve myself worthy of you and of my mother—worthy of Gaul—"
"It is your duty, seeing that we glory in you and her," rejoined the old captain; and addressing Victoria: "Will the army not see you before we march to battle? To the soldiers and to us your presence always is a good omen—and your good words fire our courage."
"I shall accompany my son as far as the parade ground—let the battle and triumph follow! Once the Roman eagles circled over our enslaved nation! The Gallic cock drove them away! And it will again drive away this cloud of birds of prey that seek to swoop down upon our Gaul!" cried the Mother of the Camps in so proud and superb a transport that, at the moment, I believed I saw before me the goddess of our land and of liberty. "By Hesus, shall the barbarous Franks conquer us? Before that happens neither a lance, nor a sword, nor a scythe, nor a club, nor a stone can have been left in Gaul! By Hesus! We shall triumph over the barbarian Franks!"
At these brave words, the chiefs of the legions, sharing the enthusiasm of Victoria, spontaneously drew their swords, struck them against one another, and cried in chorus the war cry that they had more than once intoned:
"By the iron of our swords, Victoria, we swear to you that Gaul shall remain free!—or you will never see us again!"
"Yes, by your beloved and august name, Victoria, we shall fight to the last drop of our blood."
And all left the room crying:
"To arms, our legions!"
"To arms, our cohorts!"
During the whole scene, in which the military genius of Victorin, his tender deference for his mother, the controlling influence that both she and he exercised over the chiefs of the army were displayed, I more than once cast a covert look at the Governor of Gascony, who had withdrawn into a corner of the room. Was it fear at the approach of the Franks? Was it secret rage at witnessing how idle were his calumnies against Victorin?—because, despite the blandness and skilfulness of his defense, my suspicions were not lulled to sleep—I know not; but his livid and disturbed face grew by degrees more horrid to behold. Doubtlessly, evil thoughts and impulses, that he meant to keep concealed, came to the surface in that moment. Immediately after the departure of the chiefs, and as the Mother of the Camps turned to speak with the governor, the latter strove to resume his customary mask of mildness. Making an effort to smile he said to Victoria:
"You and your son are endowed with a sort of magic power. According to my feeble understanding nothing can be more alarming than this march of the Frankish army upon our camp, while neither of you seem to be particularly concerned, and you deliberate as calmly as if the battle was to be to-morrow. And yet, I must confess, the tranquility that you display under such circumstances inspires me with blind confidence."
"There is nothing more natural than our tranquility," replied Victorin. "I have calculated the time that it will take the Franks to cross the Rhine and disembark their troops, form their columns and arrive at a place that they are forced to cross. To hasten my movements would be a mistake, a grave strategic error. Delay serves my purposes well."
Victorin thereupon turned to me:
"Schanvoch, go and put on your armor; I shall have orders for you after I shall have conferred with my mother."
"You will join me here, before proceeding to the parade ground," Victoria said to me. "I also have some recommendations to make to you."
"I almost forgot to notify you of an important thing," said I. "The sister of one of the Frankish kings feared that her brother would put her to death, and fled the camp of the barbarians. She accompanied me to ours."
"The woman can serve as a hostage," remarked Tetrik. "It is a valuable capture. She should be kept a prisoner."
"No," I answered the governor. "I promised the woman that she would be free in the Gallic camp, and I assured her of Victoria's protection."
"I shall keep the promise that you made," replied my foster-sister. "Where is the woman?"
"At my house."
"Have her sent to me after the departure of our troops. I wish to see her."
I left the room together with the Governor of Gascony. As I stepped out several bards and druids, who, adhering to our ancient custom, always marched at the head of the armies in order to encourage the troops with their songs, stepped in to confer with Victoria and Victorin.
Upon leaving Victoria's house I hastened home to arm myself and take my horse. From all parts of the camp trumpets and clarions were heard blowing signals. When I entered my house I found Sampso and my wife, whom the tidings of the landing of the Franks had speedily reached, busily engaged getting my arms ready. Ellen was vigorously furbishing my steel cuirass, the polish of which was soiled by the fire that was kindled upon it the day before by order of Neroweg, the Terrible Eagle and powerful king of the Franks.
"You are truly a soldier's wife," I said smiling to Ellen, seeing her provoked at not being able to restore the tarnished spot to the brilliancy of the rest of the cuirass. "The brilliancy of your husband's armor is your own greatest ornament."
"If we were not so much pressed for time," Ellen answered, "we would have succeeded in furbishing off this black spot. Sampso and I have for the last hour been wondering how you managed to blacken and tarnish your armor in this manner."
"They look like traces of fire," said Sampso, who was actively engaged polishing my casque with a piece of smooth skin. "Only fire can tarnish the polish of steel in that way."
"You have guessed right, Sampso," I answered her laughing and taking up my sword, my battle axe and my dagger; "there was a big fire in the camp of the Franks; those hospitable folks insisted that I draw near to the brasier; the evening was cool, and I hugged the fire a little too closely."
"I perceive that the announcement of battle throws you into a mirthful mood, my Schanvoch," put in my wife. "That is like you, I have long noticed it."
"And the announcement of battle does not sadden you, my Ellen, because you have a stout heart."
"I draw my strength from the faith of our fathers, my Schanvoch. It teaches me that we proceed to live in other worlds in the company of those whom we have loved in this," Ellen sweetly answered me while she and Sampso helped to buckle on my cuirass. "That is why I put into practice our mothers' maxim that the Gallic woman never grows pale when her brave husband departs for battle, and that she reddens with joy at his return. And if he does not return, she is proud at the knowledge that he died as a brave man, and every evening she says to herself: 'One more day has passed, one more step is taken towards those unknown worlds, where we shall meet our dear ones again.'"
"Let us not talk of absence but of return," said Sampso, offering me my casque, which she had so carefully polished with her own hands that she could have seen her sweet face in the burnished steel. "You have always been so lucky in war, Schanvoch, that I feel sure you will return to us."
"I rely on your faith, dear Sampso. I depart happy in the knowledge of your sisterly affection, and of Ellen's love. I shall return happy, above all if I shall have been able to leave a fresh mark on the face of a certain king of those Frankish skinners of human bodies, as a token of acknowledgment for the loyalty of the hospitality that he yesterday bestowed upon me. But here I am armed. A kiss to my little Alguen, and then to horse!"
As I was about to proceed to my wife's room, Sampso held me back, saying:
"Brother—what of the strange woman?"
"You are right, Sampso; I forgot all about her."
As a matter of precaution I had locked Elwig's room. I knocked at the door and called out to her:
"Shall I come in?"
I received no answer. Alarmed at the silence I opened the door. Elwig sat on the edge of the couch with her head in her hands, in the identical posture that I saw her last.
"Did sleep bring you rest?"
"There is no more sleep for me!" she answered brusquely. "Riowag is dead! I weep for my lover!"
"My wife and sister will take you at noon to Victoria the Great. She will treat you as a friend. I announced to her your arrival in our camp."
The sister of Neroweg, the Terrible Eagle, shrugged her shoulders with indifference.
"Do you need anything?" I asked her. "Would you eat or drink?"
"I want water—I am thirsty—"
Despite the priestess' refusal to eat, Sampso went for some provisions—a pitcher of water, some bread and fruits—and placed them near Elwig, who remained motionless and mute. I again locked the door and gave the key to my wife, saying:
"You and Sampso will take the poor woman to Victoria at noon. But be careful that she is not left alone with our child—"
"Do you fear anything?"
"Everything is to be feared from those barbarian women; they are as wily as they are ferocious. I killed her lover in defending myself against him; she is quite capable of strangling my child out of vengeance."
You came running in at that moment, my child. Hearing my voice from your mother's room, you left your bed and came half naked to me with your little arms outstretched, smiling with pleasure at the sight of my armor, the brilliancy of which pleased your eyes. Time pressed; I embraced you, your mother and aunt tenderly. I then proceeded to saddle my horse, my good and strong Tom-Bras,[2] whom I named in remembrance of our ancestor Joel, who also gave the name of Tom-Bras to the spirited stallion that he rode at the battle of Vannes. Sampso and your mother, the latter of whom took you in her arms, accompanied me to the stable. Your aunt helped me to put on the bridle, and, caressing his sinewy neck, said to the war steed:
"Tom-Bras, do not leave your master in danger; save him with your swiftness, if need be; defend him like the brave Tom-Bras of old who, as he bore the brenn of the tribe of Karnak, attacked the Romans with his hoofs and teeth."
"Dear Sampso," I answered smiling as I leaped into the saddle, "do not give Tom-Bras bad advice by urging him to save me with his swiftness. A good war horse is rapid in pursuit, slow in flight. As to plying his teeth and hoofs, he does that to perfection; the Frankish horse that I captured, and that he almost tore to shreds in the stable, can testify to that. Tom-Bras is like his master; he abhors the Franks. Adieu, dear Sampso! Adieu, my beloved Ellen! Adieu, my little Alguen!"
Casting one more look at your mother who held you in her arms, I departed at a gallop to the parade ground, where the army was assembling.
The distant sound of the clarions, and the neighing of the horses, to which he responded, enlivened Tom-Bras. He bounded with vigor. I calmed him with my voice, I patted his neck so as to control his buoyant spirits and reserve his energy for the hard day's work ahead. When I was near the parade ground I perceived Victoria about a hundred paces ahead of me. She rode with an escort of several mounted officers. I quickly joined them. Mounted on a palfrey, Tetrik rode to the left of the Mother of the Camps; at her right rode a druid bard named Rolla, whom she greatly esteemed for his bravery, his noble character and his poetic talents. Several other druids were scattered among the various army corps, and were to march beside the chiefs at the head of their several detachments.
Coifed in the light brass helmet of the antique Minerva, which was surmounted with the Gallic cock in gilt bronze holding an expiring lark under his spurs, Victoria sat with proud ease her beautiful steed, whose satin coat shimmered like silver. The housings of the prancing animal were, like its bridle, of scarlet color, they almost reached the ground and were partially covered by the long black robe of the Mother of the Camps, who seemed to inspire her mount with her own self-restraint and confidence. Her beautiful and virile visage seemed animated with martial ardor. A light flush suffused her cheeks; her bosom heaved; her large blue eyes shone with matchless brilliancy, under their long black lashes. Without being noticed by her, I joined the riders of her escort. With their banners to the breeze and their platoons of trumpeters at their head, the cohorts passed by us one after the other on their way to the parade ground. The officers saluted Victoria with their swords, the banners dipped before her, and soldiers, captains and chiefs, in short, the whole armed force cried in enthusiastic chorus:
"Greeting to Victoria the Great!"
"Greeting to the Mother of the Camps!"
Among the first soldiers of one of the cohorts that passed us, I recognized Douarnek, one of the four oarsmen of the day before who was wounded in the back by an arrow. Despite his recent wound, the brave Breton marched in his place. I pricked my horse, drew near him and said:
"Douarnek, the gods send a propitious opportunity to Victorin to prove to the army that, unworthy calumnies to the contrary notwithstanding, he is still worthy of his post."
"You are right, Schanvoch," the Breton answered. "Let Victorin win this battle, as he won the others, and in the joy of their triumph the soldiers will acclaim their general and forget many a disagreeable thing. We shall meet again, Schanvoch!"
Some Roman legions, our then allies, shared the enthusiasm of our own troops. As they passed under the eyes of Victoria their acclamations also greeted her. The whole army, the cavalry on the two wings, the infantry in the center, was soon gathered on the parade ground, a vast field that lay without the camp. It was bounded by the Rhine on one side, on the other by the slopes of a high hill. A wide road was seen at a distance. It wound its way and disappeared behind some woody slopes. The casques, the arms, the banners, all of which were surmounted by the Gallic cock wrought in gilt copper, glistened in the rays of the sun, and presented the bright and cheerful sight that does so much to raise the soldier's spirits. From the moment that she entered the parade ground Victoria put her horse to a gallop in order to join her son, who, surrounded by a group of chiefs to whom he was issuing orders, was conspicuous in the very center of the field. No sooner had the Mother of the Camps, whose brass helmet, black robe and white steed pointed her out to all eyes, appeared before the front ranks of the army, than one loud, vast, ringing cry from fifty thousand soldiers' breasts saluted Victoria the Great!
"May that cry be heard of Hesus," my foster-sister said to the druid bard with deep emotion. "May the gods grant Gaul a new victory! Justice and right are on our side! We are not after conquest; we only defend our own soil, our hearths, our families, and our freedom!"
"Our cause is holy among holy causes!" answered Rolla, the druid bard. "Hesus will render our arms invincible!"
We rode up to Victorin. It seems to me I never saw him handsomer, or of a more martial bearing than on that morning, clad in his brilliant steel armor and with his casque, ornamented, like his mother's, by the Gallic cock and the expiring lark. Victoria herself, as she approached her son, could not keep from turning towards me and betraying her maternal pride with a look that, perhaps, only I understood. Several officers, the bearers of the young general's orders to the different army corps, left at a gallop in different directions. I drew near my foster-sister and said to her in a low voice:
"You reproach your son with no longer displaying that cool bravery that must distinguish the general of an army. And yet, watch and see how cool and collected he is. Do you not read in his masculine face the wise and cautious cast of mind of the general who will not rashly risk his soldiers' lives, or the fate of his country?"
"Your speech is sooth, Schanvoch; I saw him just as cool and collected at the great battle of Offenbach—one of his finest, one of his most fruitful victories. It was that victory that restored to us the Rhine for our frontier. It drove the accursed Franks to the other bank of the river."
"And to-day's battle will supplement the victory won at Offenbach, if, as I expect we shall, we drive off the barbarians for all time from our frontier."
"Brother," replied my foster-sister, "as always, you will not leave Victorin's side?"
"I promise you."
"He is now calm. But once the action is engaged, I fear the ardor of his blood, and his passion for battle. You know, Schanvoch, I do not fear peril for Victorin, I am the daughter, wife and mother of soldiers; all I fear is that, carried away by the heat of action, and anxious, even at the risk of his life, to achieve great deeds, he put the success of this day in jeopardy, and by his death endanger the safety of Gaul, that may otherwise be firmly established by to-day's action."
"I shall use my full powers to convince Victorin that a general must preserve himself for his army."
"Schanvoch," my foster-sister remarked with a tremulous voice, "you always are the best of brothers!"
And looking towards her son, evidently anxious that none but myself be made aware of the anxious thoughts that struggled in her maternal breast, and her doubts concerning the firmness of his character, she added again, in a low voice:
"You will watch over him?"
"As over my own son."
After the young general issued his last orders, he alighted from his horse the moment he saw his mother, walked over to where she was, and said:
"The hour has come, mother. I have taken with the other captains the last dispositions on the plan of battle that I submitted to you and which you approved. I have reserved ten thousand men under the command of Robert, one of the most experienced chiefs, for the protection of the camp. He is to receive orders from you. May the gods look down favorably upon our arms. Adieu, mother. I shall do my best—"
Saying this he bent his knee.
"Adieu, my son. Come not back, unless you come back victorious over the barbarians!"
As she said these words, the Mother of the Camps stooped down from her horse and reached her hand to Victorin, who kissed it and rose.
"Be brave, my young Caesar!" the Governor of Gascony called out to my foster-sister's son. "The fate of Gaul is in your hands—and, thanks to the gods, your hands are powerful. Furnish me the opportunity to write an ode on this fresh victory."