Legends & Romances of Brittany Part 11

"If he should get away," he said nervously, "both of us are lost."

"I will wager he does not," replied Job, tying the cord by which the brute was led securely to his wrist.

"Forward, then," said the priest, and he walked boldly in front, until they came to the foot of the mountain on the summit of which lies the Youdic.

The priest turned warningly to Job. "You must be circ.u.mspect in this place," he said very gravely. "Whatever you may hear, be sure not to turn your head. Your life in this world and your salvation in the next depend absolutely on this. You understand me?"

"Yes, sir, I understand."

A vast desolation surrounded them. So dark was the night that it seemed to envelop them like a velvet curtain. Beneath their feet they heard the hissing and moaning of the bog, awaiting its prey like a restless and voracious wild beast. Through the dense blackness they could see the iridescent waters writhing and gleaming below.

"Surely," said Job half to himself, "this must be the gateway to h.e.l.l!"

At that word the dog uttered a frightful howl--such a howl as froze Job's blood in his veins. It tugged and strained at the cord which held it with the strength of a demon, striving to turn on Job and rend him.

"Hold on!" cried the priest in mortal terror, keeping at a safe distance, however. "Hold on, I entreat you, or else we are undone!"

Job held on to the demon-dog with all his strength. Indeed, it was necessary to exert every thew and sinew if the animal were to be prevented from tearing him to pieces. Its howls were sufficient to strike terror to the stoutest heart. "Iou! Iou!" it yelled again and again.

But Job held on desperately, although the cord cut his hands and blood ran from the scarified palms. Inch by inch he dragged the brute toward the Youdic. The creature in a last desperate effort turned and was about to spring on him open-mouthed, when all at once the priest, darting forward, threw his cloak over its head. It uttered a shriek which sounded through the night like the cry of a lost soul.

"Quick!" cried the priest. "Lie flat on the earth and put your face on the ground!"

Scarcely had the two men done so than a frightful tumult ensued. First there was the sound of a body leaping into the mora.s.s, then such an uproar as could only proceed from the mouth of the infernal regions.

Shrieks, cries, hissings, explosions followed in quick succession for upward of half an hour; then gradually they died away and a horrible stillness took their place. The two men rose trembling and unnerved, and slowly took their way through the darkness, groping and stumbling until they had left the awful vicinity of the Yeun behind them.

FOOTNOTES:

[37] See Nutt, _Celtic and Mediaeval Romance_.

[38] _La Legende de la Mort._

[39] _Religion of the Ancient Celts_, p. 345

CHAPTER V: WORLD-TALES IN BRITTANY

I have ent.i.tled this chapter 'World-Tales' to indicate that the stories it contains are in plot or _motif_ if not in substance common to the whole world--that, in short, although they are found in Brittany, they are no more Breton than Italian, Russian, American, or Australian. But although the story which tells of the search for the golden-haired princess on the magic horse is the possession of no one particular race, the tales recounted here have the Breton colouring and the Breton spirit, and in perusing them we encounter numerous little allusions to Breton customs or manners and obtain not a few sidelights upon the Breton character, its shrewdness and its goodwill, while we may note as well the narrowness of view and meanness so characteristic of peoples who have been isolated for a long period from contact with other races.

The first two of these tales are striking ones built upon two world-_motifs_--those of the magic horse and the search for the golden-haired princess, who is, of course, the sun, two themes which have been amalgamated in not a few deathless stories.

_The Youth who did not Know_

One day the Marquis of Coat-Squiriou was returning from Morlaix, when he beheld lying on the road a little fellow of four or five years of age. He leapt from his horse, picked the child up, and asked him what he did there.

"I do not know," replied the little boy.

"Who is your father?" asked the Marquis.

"I do not know," said the child for the second time.

"And your mother?" asked the kindly n.o.bleman.

"I do not know."

"Where are you now, my child?"

"I do not know."

"Then what is your name?"

"I do not know."

The Marquis told his serving-man to place the child on the crupper of his horse, as he had taken a fancy to him and would adopt him. He called him N'Oun Doare, which signifies in Breton, 'I do not know.' He educated him, and when his schooling was finished took him to Morlaix, where they put up at the best inn in the town. The Marquis could not help admiring his adopted son, who had now grown into a tall, handsome youth, and so pleased was he with him that he desired to signify his approval by making him a little present, which he resolved should take the form of a sword. So they went out into the town and visited the armourers' shops in search of a suitable weapon. They saw swords of all kinds, but N'Oun Doare would have none of them, until at last they pa.s.sed the booth of a seller of sc.r.a.p-metal, where hung a rusty old rapier which seemed fit for nothing.

"Ha!" cried N'Oun Doare, "that is the sword for me. Please buy it, I beg of you."

"Why, don't you see what a condition it is in?" said the Marquis. "It is not a fit weapon for a gentleman."

"Nevertheless it is the only sword I wish for," said N'Oun Doare.

"Well, well, you are a strange fellow," said the Marquis, but he bought the sword nevertheless, and they returned to Coat-Squiriou. The next day N'Oun Doare examined his sword and discovered that the blade had the words "I am invincible" engraved upon it.

Some time afterward the Marquis said to him: "It is time that you had a horse. Come with me to Morlaix and we will purchase one." They accordingly set out for Morlaix. In the market-place they saw many fine animals, but with none of them was N'Oun Doare content. On returning to the inn, however, he espied what looked like a broken-down mare standing by the roadside, and to this sorry beast he immediately drew the attention of the Marquis.

"That is the horse for me!" he cried. "I beg of you, purchase it for me."

"What!" cried the Marquis, "that broken-down beast? Why, only look at it, my son." But N'Oun Doare persisted, and at last, despite his own better judgment, the Marquis bought the animal. The man who sold it was a cunning-looking fellow from Cornouaille, who, as he put the bridle into N'Oun Doare's hand, whispered:

"You see the knots on the halter of this animal?"

"Yes," replied N'Oun Doare; "what of them?"

"Only this, that each time you loosen one the mare will immediately carry you five hundred leagues from where you are."

The Marquis and his ward returned once more to the chateau, N'Oun Doare riding his new purchase, when it entered into his head to untie one of the knots on the halter. He did so, and immediately descended in the middle of Paris--which we must take the story-teller's word for it is five hundred leagues from Brittany!

Several months afterward the Marquis had occasion to go to Paris, and one of the first people he met there was N'Oun Doare, who told him of his adventure. The Marquis was going to visit the King, and took his _protege_ along with him to the palace, where he was well received.

Some nights afterward the youth was walking with his old mare outside the walls of Paris, and noticed something which glittered very brightly at the foot of an ancient stone cross which stood where four roads met. He approached it and beheld a crown of gold, set with the most brilliant precious stones. He at once picked it up, when the old mare, turning its head, said to him: "Take care; you will repent this."

Greatly surprised, N'Oun Doare thought that he had better replace the crown, but a longing to possess it overcame him, and although the mare warned him once more he finally resolved to take it, and, putting it under his mantle, rode away.