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

"Seigneur, you do not earn your living with your dogs; but my bear is my bread winner."

"Dare you resist my will?"

"Oh, great Prince," said Karadeucq on his knees, but turning towards Chram: "A poor old man addresses him to your glory; one word from you to this illustrious seigneur, who respects you as the son of his King, and he will renounce his project. I swear to you by my salvation, the other tricks of my bear which I have not exhibited will amuse a hundredfold more than the bloody combat that will deprive me of my bread winner."

"Come, rise old mountebank, I shall not hinder you in the making of your living."

"Thanks to you, great King, my bear is saved!"

Chram's words provoked violent murmurs from the count's leudes; not only did they see themselves deprived of a spectacle that was to delight their eyes, but they imagined themselves humiliated anew, now in the person of the master of the house, their count. The murmurs grew louder.

"Chram is not King in this burg, Neroweg," cried Sigefrid, one of the principal starters of the quarrel that was allayed just as Karadeucq entered the hall with his bear. "No, King Chram cannot by a word deprive us of an amusement that it pleases you to afford us. Neroweg is King in his burg."

"No, no," loudly chimed in the other warriors of the count, "we want to see the fight with the bear. The dogs! the dogs! Neroweg alone commands here."

"Yes, and to the devil with the King!" cried Sigefrid.

"The devil take Chram if he opposes our enjoyment! We are masters here."

"Only brutes of rustics send their guest to the devil when he is the son of their King," put in the Lion of Poitiers with a threatening air. "Is that the example in courtesy that you set to your men, Neroweg? It seems so, judging by the conduct of your steward, who is hastening now, when the banquet is hardly over, to carry away your gold and silver vessels out of fear, I suppose, lest we steal them."

"My sons! My dear sons in Christ! Are you about to start quarreling anew? I order peace, my sons – in the name of heaven, keep the peace!"

"Bishop, you are right to preach peace; these brave leudes who fear that I am interfering with their amusement did not understand me. I told the mountebank that I would not hinder him from earning his living."

"Thanks again, thanks again, great King."

"How much is your bear worth?"

"He is priceless to me."

"Whatever sum you may fix will be counted out to you, in case your bear is killed."

The King's words were received by the acclamations of the Franks, and allayed the quarrel that was on the point of breaking out. Karadeucq, however, without rising from his knees, cried:

"Great King, no sum can repay me for my bear; mercy, beg the count to desist from his project."

"The dogs! Here are the dogs!"

"In all my life I have not seen such mastiffs!" exclaimed Chram with admiration. "Count, if your whole pack is similarly fitted out, it will rival mine, which I considered matchless."

"What flanks! What enormous paws! Ha, Chram, if you only heard their voices, the bellowing of a bull is like the song of a nightingale beside their barking when they are on the tracks of a wild boar. I am justly proud of my dogs."

"I wager that one of them will be enough to kill the bear as truly as my name is Spatachair."

"Come, tie the bear to one of the beams, old mountebank, and let us begin." "I told you, if your beast is killed, I shall pay whatever sum you may say, royally and without chaffering."

"Illustrious King, have pity on a poor man."

"Enough, enough – chain up the bear to one of the beams, and be done."

"Seigneur bishop, in the name of your blessed hand which you give me to kiss, be charitable towards my poor animal."

"Is he perchance a Christian that I should exercise charity towards him? Oh, mountebank, mountebank, had you not shown yourself a minute ago to be a pious man, I would consider this last request an outrage."

To insist any longer would have been to risk losing everything. Karadeucq understood this, and addressing himself to Chram, said:

"Glorious King, let your will be done; but allow me to make one last request."

"Hurry up."

"The spectacle will only be a butchery; my bear being chained he will not be able to defend himself."

"Would you perchance leave him loose, old idiot, and have him devour us!"

"No, King; but if you would wish an amusement that would last some time, then at least equalize the forces; permit me to arm my bear with a club."

"Has he not his nails?"

"For the sake of prudence I have filed them off – you notice how smooth his paws are."

"Very well, he shall have a club – but do you think he will know how to help himself with it?"

"Alas, the fear of being devoured will force him to defend himself as best he may; in all your life you will not have seen such a spectacle."

"And you, Neroweg," said Sigefrid, more than any other of the leudes a stickler for the count's dignity, "do you allow the bear to have a club? You alone have the right to say here: 'I will.' "

"Yes, yes, I allow the club – I think that the bear striking at the dogs with a club will be a wonderful spectacle. And yet, I would have greatly preferred to have seen the beast killed by Mirff and Morff. But that would have ended the sport too quickly. Come, let the slaves blow the horns, and you others, who beat the drums, blow and beat at your loudest, or you shall have your own backs drummed upon; and you, torch-bearing slaves, draw near the circle that is to be formed. Hold high your torches that we may see the combat well. Strike up, you drummers! blow on the hunting horns in order to excite the dogs well."

"To the beam; tie the bear to the beam!"

Karadeucq led the lover of the bishopess to a corner of the hall, chained him to one of the beams of the colonnade, put between his paws the knotty club on which he had been riding and said to him:

"Come, my poor Mont-Dore; courage; you will have to defend yourself well, seeing that you have to fight against two dogs for the amusement of the noble seigneurs; show yourself worthy of your race."

A wide circle was formed, lighted by the torch-bearing slaves. In the front rank of the audience stood King Chram, his three favorites, the count, the bishop and several leudes; all the others mounted the table. In the center of the circle, clad in his ample jacket, which had fortunately been left to him, stood the Vagre-bear; he preserved an intrepid countenance; he naïvely sat down on his haunches, like a bear who expects no evil, and nonchalantly held his club between his fore paws; occasionally he leaned the club against his body in order to scratch himself with a movement of graceful and easy abandon. Suddenly the hunting horns struck up their deafening uproar. Gondolf, the count's master of the hounds, stepped into the circle holding the two monstrous mastiffs by the leash. From their enormous necks a dewlap similar to that of a bull dropped down upon their chests; their large bloodshot eyes were half hidden under their long and drooping ears; black, white and yellow streaks ran over their shaggy skin which bristled up on their backs the moment they perceived the bear. Instantly they barked furiously, and dashing forward wildly they broke the leash that Gondolf still held in his hand. In two bounds they precipitated themselves upon the lover of the bishopess.

"At him, Mirff! At him, Morff!" cried the count clapping his hands. "At him! At the quarry, my wild fellows! Leave him not a shred of flesh on his bones!"

"Unless a miracle of strength and skill takes place, my companion will be torn to pieces, our strategy discovered, and the last chance of my sons' escape will be lost; if so, I shall swiftly stab both the King and the count at their hearts," said Karadeucq to himself, and as he did, his hand reached under his blouse, for the dagger that he had there hidden. His hand firmly seized it, ready for immediate use.

Seemingly unaffected by the sight of the dogs, the Vagre-bear continued to perform his role with unaltered presence of mind, bravery and skill; he made a momentary movement of surprise, but immediately backed up against the beam and held himself ready, with uplifted club, to repel the attack of the dogs. Mirff was the first to dash forward, aiming at his belly, but that very instant the Vagre-bear struck him so violent a blow over the head that the club broke in three, and Mirff dropped as if struck by thunder, and emitting terrible howls.

"Malediction!" cried the count. "There goes a mastiff that cost me three gold sous! Here, my men, have that ferocious bear immediately disemboweled with your boar spears and iron bars!"

The count's imprecations were drowned by the frantic shouts of the rest of the audience, who, themselves more disinterested than Neroweg in the course that the combat was taking, applauded the bear's valor and awaited the issue of the struggle with anxious curiosity. The Vagre-bear, now disarmed and wholly exposed, was at close quarters with the other mastiff, that, the moment the club was broken, seized his adversary in the thigh with his formidable fangs and threw him down with the impetuosity of the shock. The blood of Karadeucq's companion flowed copiously and reddened the leaves with which the floor was strewn. Twice did the bear and the dog roll over each other; at the third time, pinning to the ground with the full weight of his body the mastiff, that, like Deber-Trud, did not loosen its teeth from its enemy, the Vagre clutched the brute by the throat and held him in such a tight clutch between his vigorous hands, that the animal was strangled. During this doubly terrible struggle not only did the mastiff's bite cause the Vagre an intense pain, but he ran at every instant the risk of being cut to pieces, together with Karadeucq, if, by the slightest accident, he but betrayed himself; – the lover of the bishopess remained true to his ursine role; he emitted no sound other than a few muffled grunts. The combat being over, the worthy animal crouched down in a lump at the foot of the beam between the corpses of the two mastiffs; with his head between his fore paws he seemed patiently to lick his bleeding wound, while Chram, his favorites and several even of the count's leudes vociferously acclaimed the triumph of the bear.

"Alas, alas!" murmured old Karadeucq as he approached his companion. "My poor bear is wounded, mortally perhaps. I have lost my bread winner."