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

"The Franks respect the property of the Church and the servants of the Lord – while you, accursed pack, you dare to lift impious hands against both the property and the priests of the Church!"

"Proceed," said Ronan to Odille.

"We arrived at the burg. The count had me taken to his chamber. He threw himself upon me; I tried to resist; he struck me in the face with his fist; my face was bathed in blood; pain and fright rendered me senseless, and the seigneur count violated me. I was afterwards locked up with other female slaves in the apartment of his wife Godegisele; a very gentle woman for so wicked a man. To-night, one of the leudes came for me and brought me hither on his horse. He said to me that I was to be the bishop's slave."

"And does that frighten you, poor child, to be a slave of the seigneur bishop?"

"My mother and relatives were killed; I am a slave and disgraced besides. I tried to strangle myself with my hair; but I was afraid – and yet I wish I could die."

"And she is only fourteen, bishop! Didst thou hear?"

"Sit down on the steps of the altar, little Odille. Here you have only friends; you are still young, do not despair."

The child contemplated the Vagre with wondering eyes; he spoke to her in a gentle voice. She stepped towards the altar and sat down; she looked at Ronan only; she listened only to his words.

"O! Master of the Hounds! Master of the Hounds!" cried one of the lusty Vagres, who stood near one of the small doors of the chapel opening into the garden. "Whither are you bound with the bishopess on your arm? Would she not like to come and see her darling husband, the holy Bishop Cautin, before we hang him?"

"My good seigneurs Vagres," said the bishopess, whose comely shape was hardly distinguishable in the shadow of the vaulted door of the chapel, "long have I cursed yonder man who is my husband. I now no longer curse him. Happiness renders one indulgent. Be merciful to him, as I pardon him. For the rest, I no longer was his wife – our carnal bonds were sundered. Let him go in peace. I at last enjoy my day of freedom and of love. Long live the Vagrery!"

"Shameless and sacrilegious woman! Accursed burgess! You shall burn for this in the everlasting flames of hell!"

But Cautin's vituperation and threats were idle. The bishopess stepped out under the tall trees of the garden of the villa and continued her promenade, while Ronan again addressed the holy man:

"Sentence shall be passed upon thee by those whom thou hast oppressed. Ye poor ecclesiastical slaves, what shall be done to this wicked and profligate religious humbug who buries the living with the dead?"

"Let him be hanged! Death to the bishop!"

"Yes! Yes! Let him be hanged!"

"He will die but one death, the infamous scoundrel! And our lives have been one prolonged agony!"

"What dost thou think of that?" said Ronan to the bishop. "Dost thou fancy the views of these poor people?"

"Brothers, in the name of Jesus of Nazareth, the friend of the sorrowful, pardon this guilty man if you find his repentance sincere."

Who was it that spoke thus? The hermit-laborer, who had until then kept himself concealed in the shadow under one of the vaults of the chapel. As he spoke he stepped into the light and stood before the Vagres and the slaves who were venting their rage.

"The hermit-laborer!" cried the slaves with touching respect. "The friend of the poor, of the meek and the oppressed!"

"The consoler of those who weep!"

"How often has he not taken in the field the hoe of one of our exhausted companions, and himself finished the task of the slave in order to save him from the keeper's whip!"

"One day, as I was pasturing the sheep that I had in charge, two lambs went astray. The hermit-laborer looked for them until he found them and was able to bring them back to me. Blessed be he for his charity."

"Our little children always have a smile for the hermit-laborer."

"Oh! From the moment they see him they run to him and take hold of his robe."

"As poor as any of ourselves, he loves to make little presents to the children. He always has some fruit for them that he gathered in the woods, a piece of wild honey-comb, or some little bird that has fallen out of its nest."

"Love one another! Love one another like brothers, poor disinherited people! he always says to us. – Love renders toil less arduous."

"Hope! he also says to us. – Hope! The rule of the oppressors will pass away; and then the first will be the last, and the last will be the first."

"Jesus, the friend of the sorrowful, said the iron of the slave will be broken. Hope!"

"Unite! Love one another! Help one another, children of one God, sons of one country! Disunited, you can do nothing; united you will be stronger than your oppressors. The day of deliverance may be nigh! Love, unity, patience!"

"Aye! Aye! These are the precepts that the hermit-laborer teaches us!"

"And these precepts, brothers, you must remember and act upon at this hour," replied the monk-laborer. "Jesus said: 'Woe to the hardened hearts! Mercy to those who repent!' "

"Insolent monk, dare you accuse me!"

"Hermit, good friend, you hear the 'holy' man – you perceive his repentance – what shall be done, my Vagres?"

"Brothers, if you love me, grant me the bishop's life!"

"The bishop made us suffer. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth!"

"Will vengeance wipe out your past sufferings? Your ancestors astonished the world by their generous bravery – and would you slay a defenseless man?"

Vagres and slaves remained silent for a moment. After a short consultation with Ronan they directed him to stipulate the conditions for Cautin's life.

"Bishop, choose! Either be our cook or hang!"

"Sacrilegious bandits! After pillaging and setting my episcopal villa on fire, to demand that I be their cook! Monk, you hear them! Alas! Alas! And you have neither curse nor anathema for them! Is it thus that you defend me? What did you save my life for but in order to rejoice at my humiliation?"

"Hold your tongue! Jesus of Nazareth, whose life was as pure as yours is sullied; Jesus, when in the Roman pretorium, amidst the soldiers who whelmed him with mockery and physical outrage said: 'My God, pardon them, they know not what they do – "

"But these scamps do know what they are doing when they make a cook of me! And would you have me pardon them their sacrilege!"

"Consider your past life – "

"Come, my Vagres," said Ronan; "come, day is dawning. Let us pack our booty on the bishop's wagons, and on the march! What a fine day will this be for the folks of this neighborhood!"

And stepping towards the little slave girl, who, seated on the steps of the altar had quietly watched and listened to all that took place:

"Poor child, you are without father or mother, will you come with us? The Vagrery is the world topsy-turvy. The slave and the poor are sacred to us; our hatred is for the wicked rich. If our life of adventure and dangers should frighten you, our friend the hermit will take you to some charitable person in a neighboring village, where you may be safe."

"I shall follow you, Ronan. I am a slave and an orphan," answered Odille weeping. "What can I do? Where would you have me go, if not with you who speak to me with so much kindness?"

"Well, then, come with me, and dry your tears, little Odille. No tears are shed among the Vagres. You shall ride on one of the wagons of the villa in which our companions will carry the booty. Come, take my arm, and let us walk out, poor little child. We shall go whithersoever chance may take us!"

And seeing that the hermit was stepping towards him:

"Adieu, friend!"