The Iron Pincers or Mylio and Karvel Part 14

"On to Carca.s.sonne!

Kill, pillage, burn the heretics as we have done At Cha.s.seneuil and Beziers!

On to Carca.s.sonne," echoes Montfort.

And behold them, they march on Carca.s.sonne, The Cath'lic Crusaders, the priests in the lead!

The red cross on their b.r.e.a.s.t.s, The name of Jesus on their lips, The sword in one hand, The f.a.got in the other!

To the rape, to tortures and slaughter!

What wrong have we done to these priests?

Oh, what wrong have we done unto them!

CHAPTER VIII.

SONG ON THE BURNING OF CARCa.s.sONNE.

They march upon Carca.s.sonne, The Cath'lic Crusaders! Ill fortified is the town, Into the town, Roger, the young Viscount of Beziers, Too late back from Aragon to defend the capital of his domain, Has thrown himself.

The young man is bold and generous, beloved by all.

A heretic, like most the seigneurs of Languedoc, This land of freedom.

The young viscount bows before the popular magistrates, And to the city's franchise.

The viscount and councilmen re-kindle the town's folks' enthusiasm, Chilled for a moment by the ma.s.sacres of Cha.s.seneuil and Beziers.

Deep ditches are dug, high palisades raised To strengthen the ramparts of Carca.s.sonne.

The old and the young, the rich and the poor, men, women and children-- All labor with zeal for the defense of the city, and they say: "No! We shall not let ourselves be slaughtered as The people of Cha.s.seneuil and Beziers-- No!"

"No! We shall not let ourselves be slaughtered as The people of Cha.s.seneuil and Beziers--No!"

But the line of the horizon is soon darkened by dust, From afar the earth trembles Under the tread of steeds caparisoned in iron, And mounted by warriors cased in iron themselves.

The iron points of a forest of lances glisten, They glisten like the armors In the rays of the rising sun.

The hill, the valley and the plain Soon are covered with cohorts innumerable.

The mult.i.tude in arms has steadily, steadily swollen.

It reaches from East to West, it overlaps the horizon.

It approaches from the North and the South, And Carca.s.sonne is from all sides surrounded.

The wagons and baggage follow the trains, And behind them larger and still larger crowds.

Early in the morning th' invader descends the distant hills.

The Cath'lic Crusaders encamp towards evening.

Early in the morning th' invader descends the distant hills.

The Cath'lic Crusaders arrive and encamp towards evening.

Montfort, the prelates and knights raise their tents; The mult.i.tude sleeps on the ground under the vault of the heavens.

They are so delightful; oh! so delightful, the nights of Languedoc!

Other Crusaders invade and they pillage the suburbs, Whose inhabitants fled within Carca.s.sonne.

At dawn the next morning, the trumpets sound in the Crusaders' camp; "To the a.s.sault! Death to the heretics of Carca.s.sonne!

Kill--kill as you did at Cha.s.seneuil and Beziers!

To the a.s.sault!"

The men of Carca.s.sonne are on the ramparts.

The struggle begins; it is b.l.o.o.d.y, it is furious.

The young viscount and consuls by example and courage redouble The strength of the besieged.

Women and children fetch stones for the engines of war; The ditches are heaped full with corpses.

"Victory for the heretics! This time they triumph!"

The a.s.sailants are all driven back.

But dearly they paid for this vict'ry, the heretics!

Helas! They paid for it dearly, The heretics of Carca.s.sonne.

Of their men there are killed, or are wounded Full twelve thousand heroes, the flow'r of the brave.

Still greater is the loss of the Crusaders.

But still their forces number near two hundred thousand.

A messenger from Montfort arrives in Carca.s.sonne, and he says: "Sir viscount, Sirs consuls! The Pope's blessed legate and also Seigneur Montfort the count offer a truce unto you, And they swear on their faith of Cath'lic priests and of knights That if you, viscount and consuls, will come to the camp of the crusaders You shall all be respected, and allowed to return to your city Should you decline to accept the terms that the legate and count will propose."

Reposing their faith in the oaths of the priest and the knight, "Let's to the camp!" say the consuls in the hope their city to save.

And they appear in the tent of Montfort.

They appear in the tent of Montfort.

The viscount says to the count: "Spare the unhappy town, Mention the ransom; it shall be paid unto you.

If you refuse, to Carca.s.sonne we shall ride back And bury ourselves under its ruins!"

"Brave Sire!" answers Montfort, "The whole of your domain now belongs unto me: The Holy Father to the soldiers of Christ has given the goods of the heretics.

Write on the spot to your townsmen to renounce Their d.a.m.nable heresy, else we'll a.s.sault them again on the morrow.

By the G.o.d who died and again resurrected, I swear, Unless they renounce, your townsmen will be put to the sword, As we did with those of Cha.s.seneuil and Beziers."

The viscount makes answer: "Montfort, adieu!

We've a horror for the Church of the Pope; we reject your proposal; We shall know how to die!"

And Montfort replies: "No 'adieus' here will pa.s.s, Sir Viscount of Beziers!

Yourself and your councilmen now are my prisoners, The prisoners of me, Montfort, the chief of this holy Crusade."

"Your prisoners we? We, whom a truce now protects?

We, who are here relying on the word of a priest, of the papal legate?

We, who are here under your pledge as a knight?

No, not we; we're no pris'ners of thine."

Abbot Reynier of Citeaux then replies: "These are the Pope's own words: 'None is bound to keep his pledge to him who keeps not his pledge to G.o.d.'

"You shall remain our prisoners, Viscount of Beziers!

To-morrow, to the a.s.sault!

Fall to, Montfort!

The Holy Father has ordered: 'Kill, burn, pillage! Let not a heretic of Carca.s.sonne Escape the sword, the rope, or the flames!'"

"Let not a heretic of Carca.s.sonne Escape the sword, the rope, or the flames!"

The young viscount and consuls are pinioned-- The viscount soon dies by poison, the consuls on the gibbet.

At dawn th' a.s.sault is sounded; The Crusaders march against the walls; The walls, they are unguarded, they are not now defended.

The Crusaders knock down the palisades, Fill up the ditches, beat in the gates.

None guard the city; none defend it.

Without striking a blow the Crusaders rush into the streets, They rush into the houses.

Not a soul is seen on the street, not a soul is found in the houses.

The silence of the tomb reigns in Carca.s.sonne, What has become of its people?

The silence of the tomb reigns in Carca.s.sonne, What has become of its people?

The Crusaders invade every nook, every corner.

They find, at last, in hidden corners Some people gravely wounded, some ill and some old, Or some women lying-in.

The Crusaders thus find some wives, some daughters or mothers Who refused to abandon some husband, some father, some son, Too seriously wounded or old to take flight, To take flight through the woods and the mountains, And there to keep in concealment For days, for months, perhaps.

They fled! Did all the inhabitants of Carca.s.sonne flee?

They fled! Did all the inhabitants of Carca.s.sonne flee?

Yes, notified during the night of the fate of their viscount and consuls, Afraid of the extermination threatened to their town, All fled, the wounded dragging behind, The mothers carrying their children on backs and on arms, The men taking charge of the provisions.