The Poniard's Hilt Part 35

"And by the faith of the Lion of Poitiers, I promise not to chuckle her under the chin too freely."

"When you give that banquet, Neroweg," added Imnachair, despite the glances of Chram to check the insolence of his favorites, "when you give us that banquet, you will not make us eat and drink, as you do to-day, out of copper and tin vessels, while you spread out before our dazzled eyes your gold and silver utensils in the center of the table--far from our reach. It almost looks, you vainglorious rustic, as if you took us for thieves."

"Neroweg offers his hospitality in the way that suits him," put in Sigefrid, the count's leude, in a tone of m.u.f.fled anger; "those who eat the meat and drink the wine of this house have no right to complain of the dishes--if these don't suit them, let them go and fill up elsewhere."

"Are we, the King's men, to be chaffed for what we eat and drink at this burg?"

"That would be the height of impudence! As to me, I was surfeited before I touched a mouthful of these mountains of cold provisions."

"Moreover, it is an insult," cried another of the guests. "We members of the royal bodyguard will brook no insult."

"Do you think yourselves above us, because we are leudes of a count? If you do, we may measure the distance between us, by measuring the length of our swords."

"It is not swords, but hearts that we should measure."

"Do you pretend to say that we, the faithful men of Neroweg, have smaller hearts than you?"

"A challenge let it be, thick-headed rustics!"

"The thick-headed rustic is more than a match for the effeminate court soldier. And you will find it out on the spot if you dare put your hands to your swords."

"Six against six, or more, if you prefer."

"Nothing will suit us better than to cross swords with you."

The altercation between the half tipsy Franks had started at one end of the table; at first it was conducted in a low voice, but it soon reached such a pitch of loudness and exasperation that Chram, the bishop and the count hastened to interpose and restore peace among the table companions. It was with an ill grace and exchanging wild looks of hatred that the intoxicated leudes subsided.

Karadeucq and his bear, both preceded by the steward, had reached the threshold of the banquet hall when the disturbance between the leudes was silenced. The steward approached his master and said:

"Seigneur, the mountebank with his bear and monkey are ready."

"What, count, have you bears in this place?"

"Chram, he is a strolling mountebank with his animals. I thought it would amuse you at the close of the banquet, and I ordered him to be brought in."

The news of the proposed entertainment was joyfully received by all the Franks, and made them forget their recent quarrel and hard feelings.

Some stood up, others rose on their haunches in order to be the first to see the man, his monkey, and his bear. When Karadeucq appeared, loud roars of laughter shook the walls of the hall. It was not that the aspect of the old Vagre was amusing, but nothing could be imagined more grotesque than the appearance of the lover of the bishopess under the bear's skin. He stepped forward heavily, clad in the jacket with its hood thrown back and seemed dazed by the light of the torches, although all the thirty or forty of them cast but a flickering and subdued light over the vast hall. Thanks to this rather dim and unsteady light, and also to the wide jacket that half enveloped the Vagre, his ursine appearance was perfect. Moreover, in order to keep the curious at a distance, Karadeucq pulled in the chain to which the animal was attached and cried:

"Seigneurs, do not come too near the teeth of the bear, he is often sullen and ferocious."

"Mountebank, keep close watch on your beast; should he unfortunately hurt anybody in this hall, I shall have him cut to pieces, and you will receive for your share fifty lashes on your back!"

"Seigneur count, have pity on me, poor old man that I am; I only have my animals to earn my bread with--I have requested your n.o.ble and very n.o.ble guests not to approach my bear too closely, in order to prevent any unfortunate accident."

"Step forward; I wish to have a closer view of your jolly companion; he will not, I presume, dare to paw me, the son of King Clotaire."

"Oh, very glorious Prince! these poor brutes are deprived of intelligence and cannot distinguish between the great seigneurs of the world and the humble slaves."

"Step forward, step forward--a little closer."

"Very glorious King, look out--it will be less dangerous to be close to the monkey--I can let him out of his cage."

"Oh, monkeys, I am not very curious to see those wicked animals. I have pages, plenty of them. Ha, ha, ha--look at the droll fellow with his jacket. Look, Imnachair, how clumsily he carries himself--how he grunts--for all the world he looks like the Lion of Poitiers in his morning gown, after spending a night with women and wine."

"What else should I do, Chram! I consider lost every night that I do not put to use in your style with wine and women."

"Lion, you are unjust--I have become temperate and chaste."

"Through exhaustion--O, chaste and sober Prince--did you renounce the pure girls and good wine!"

"If so, you should rather pity than blame me. Ho, there, mountebank, what tricks can your bear perform? Is he clever?"

"If you order it, glorious King, my bear will ride on horseback on my cane, and myself holding him by the chain, he will gracefully gallop around the hall."

"Good; let us see him do it."

"Attention! Mont-Dore."

"How do you call him?"

"Mont-Dore, glorious King. I give him that name because I caught him when he was still but a cub on one of the peaks of Mont Dore."

"I am no longer surprised if your bear is ferocious. He was born in one of the most notorious lairs of the accursed Vagres, those wandering men, those wolves, those heads of wolves who haunt only rocks, forests and caverns. But as sure as this morning we put one of them to the torture, we shall end by wiping them all out, just as Count Neroweg did the other day with a band of them who took refuge in the defile of Allange."

"Oh, glorious King, may the Almighty deliver us from these pestilential Vagres! May He grant me the favor of never running across any of them except as he hangs from the gibbet--the way I saw the first and last one whom I ever laid eyes upon--it was a terrible sight! The thought of it still makes me tremble."

"Where did you see that Vagre on the gibbet?"

"Near the frontier of Limousin; over the gallows was this inscription: 'This is Karadeucq the Vagre--so shall his likes be treated.'"

"Karadeucq! The old bandit who with his bedevilled band so long raided Limousin and Auvergne!"

"Pillaging burgs and episcopal mansions!"

"A worthy example, followed by the band of Ronan, the other dog that is to be executed to-morrow!"

"Well, I am glad to hear it, at last we are delivered from that Karadeucq! He was thought to be running the Vagrery in some other regions, but his return was always apprehended."

"Oh, glorious Prince, he will never be back again--unless the bandit descended from his gibbet, and that is unlikely. When I saw him dangling in the air his corpse was already half eaten up by the carrion crows, and both his hands and feet were chopped off."

"Are you quite certain you saw the name of Karadeucq on that gibbet? It would be truly a great deliverance for the country."

"Glorious King, his name is so uncommon in our country that it struck me the moment I saw it; hence I remember it well."

"It is a Breton name," said Bishop Cautin; "it is one of the names common in those heretical and cursed regions that to this hour stubbornly resist the authority and orders of our councils. Oh, Chram, will the Frankish Kings never have the power and the will to reduce to obedience that savage Armorica, that hot-bed of druid idolatry, the only province of Gaul that until now has been able to withstand the arms of King Clovis, your grandfather, and his worthy sons and grandsons?"

"Bishop, you have an easygoing way of talking about such matters. More than once did Clovis and the Frankish Kings, my ancestors, dispatch their best warriors to the conquest of that pestilential country, and our troops were every time cut to pieces in the marshes, the defiles and the forests of Armorica. No, those indomitable Bretons are not human--they are demons! Oh, if all the other regions of Gaul had been peopled with that infernal race, ever rebellious to the Catholic church, we would still be struggling to maintain our power. But, old mountebank, you seem greatly affected; I noticed a tear roll down your grey beard; why so?"

"If only one tear did run down my grey beard, it is because old men's eyes are stingy of tears."