Chapter X: Count and Vagre

With Loysik and Ronan on the shoulders of their companions and little Odille in the arms of the Master of the Hounds, the Vagres and the revolted slaves hastened to reach the forest. The rear of the fleeing troop was brought up by four Vagres, panting for breath and bent down by a heavy bundle that they carried between them. It was a large coarse cloth wound around a gagged and firmly bound man, whose head was additionally wrapped in a jacket.

"Who is that man, my brave Master of the Hounds? Do you know?" asked Ronan.

"It is Count Neroweg, whom your father dexterously kidnapped from the very midst of the leudes with the aid of two of his comrades."

"Neroweg in our power! In the power of Ronan, Loysik and Karadeucq, the descendants of Schanvoch! Heaven and earth!"

"Hello, old Karadeucq, come this way--Ronan will not believe that we kidnapped the Frankish wild-boar."

"Yes, my sons, that fellow whose head is concealed in a jacket, and whom our men are carrying, is Neroweg--it is my share of the booty."

"It is your share, Karadeucq--but we, the count's former slaves, demand to have his skin and bones."

"What a pity that we have not the bishop also--the feast would be complete."

"The Lion of Poitiers killed the bishop."

"Father, are you sure that infamous bishop is dead?"

"Yes--I saw him fall under the sword of the Lion of Poitiers. The blow almost clove him in two."

"But how did you manage to capture Neroweg?"

"I kept my eyes upon you and Loysik from a distance, as you were carried towards the bridge by our Vagres who shouted: 'Room there, room for the wounded leudes whom we have saved from the ruins.' Mixing in, together with three other of our men, among the distracted crowd of leudes and loyal slaves, who were running about helter skelter, I suddenly saw the count running all alone at a distance, and carrying in his arms with great difficulty two heavy skin bags, probably filled with gold and silver; he was running towards a dry well. Neroweg was at that moment alone and a considerable distance away from the burning buildings. The thought struck me to seize the man. Together with two of our men I crept behind the bushes around the cistern into which the count threw one of the bags, fearing, no doubt, that their contents might be stolen from him in the general turmoil. The three of us fell upon him unawares, and threw him down; I planted both my knees upon his chest and both my hands over his mouth to keep him from crying out for help; one of our men took off his jacket, gagged Neroweg and wrapped the jacket over the Frank's head, while our other companion tied his feet, legs and arms firmly, took a large piece of rough cloth that lay near and wound it around the seigneur count. The bridge lay not far away; we could see it from where we stood--and that is the way in which I captured my booty. We are now far enough away from the burg; the count's voice could not be heard there. Remove the jacket from his head and the gag from his mouth. Hurrah for the Vagrery!"

As soon as Neroweg was uncovered and ungagged Karadeucq said to him:

"Count, your hands will remain bound, but I shall now free your legs. Will you walk to the forest with us?"

"You mean to kill me there! Let us walk, accursed mountebank, you will see how a Frank marches with a firm step to death--you Gallic dogs, race of slaves!"

The outskirt of the forest was reached at the peep of dawn--a flitting moment in the month of June. At the distance a ruddy glamour was seen struggling against the approaching light of day--it was the conflagration that still raged over the ruins of the burg.

Ronan and the hermit-laborer were laid upon the grass, with little Odille seated beside them. On her knees near the young girl, the bishopess tended her wounds. The Vagres and the revolted slaves stood in a circle around. Neroweg stood pinioned, but savage and resolute of countenance--those barbarians and thieves, however cowardly in their vengeance, are, it must be admitted even by us, their enemies, endowed with a certain savage bravery--he cast an intrepid look at the Vagres. Old Karadeucq, who had preserved his vigor, looked youthed by fully twenty years. The joy of having saved his sons and of having Neroweg in his power seemed to impart new life to him. His eyes sparkled, his cheeks were aflame, he contemplated the count with greedy looks.

"We shall be revenged," said Ronan, "you will be revenged, little Odille."

"Ronan, I ask no vengeance for myself; in our prison I often said to the good hermit-laborer: 'If ever I should be free again, I shall not return evil for evil.'"

"Yes, sweet child--as sweet as pardon. But you need not fear, our father will not kill that man unarmed," answered Loysik.

"Will he not kill him, brother? Aye, by the devil! Our father will kill the Frank as sure as he put us both to the torture, and that he beat and violated this poor child! Blood and massacre, no mercy!"

"No, Ronan, our father will not kill a defenseless man."

"You are long about killing me!" put in the captured count. "What are you waiting for! And you, accursed mountebank, the chief of these bandits, why do you look at me in that way in silence?"

"Because, Neroweg, in contemplating you as I do, I am thinking of the past. I am conjuring up family recollections in which one of your ancestors, the Terrible Eagle, is mixed."

"He was a great chief," answered the Frank proudly; "he was a great King, one of the bravest warriors of my lineage. His name is still glorified in Germany--my shame remains hidden at the bottom of my grave--if you dig a grave for me, cursed dogs!"

"It happened more than three hundred years ago; a great battle was delivered on the banks of the Rhine between the Gauls and the Franks. One of my ancestors fought with yours--the Terrible Eagle. It was a desperate struggle; it was not merely a fight between soldier and soldier, it was a conflict between two races that were fated foes! My ancestor had a presentiment that the stock of Neroweg would be fatal to ours, and he sought to kill him in order to extinguish his family. Fate willed it otherwise. Alas, my ancestor's forebodings did not deceive him. This is the second time that our two families meet across the ages. You had my two sons put to the torture, and to-day they were to be executed upon your orders. Now you are in my power; you are about to die, and your stock will be extinct."

A flash of joy lighted the Frank's eyes, and he answered with a firm voice: "Kill me!"

"My Vagres, this man belongs to me--it is my part of the booty."

"He is yours, old Karadeucq--you may dispose of him at your pleasure. Say the word and we will strike him down dead."

"I wish him to be unbound; I wish him to have the full use of his limbs--but make a strong circle around us two, so that he can not run away."

"Here we are--a strong circle of swords' points, axes, pikes and sharp scythes--he will not be able to break through."

"A priest!" suddenly cried the count in accents of anguish. "I do not wish to die without the assistance of a priest! Will you assist me, hermit-laborer?"

"Father," cried Loysik, "do not kill this man in that manner!"

"I do not ask you for my life, Gallic dogs! Slaves! But I do not wish to go to hell! I ask the absolution of a priest!"

"Take this axe, Count Neroweg; we shall be equally armed; the combat between us is to be to the death."

"Father, in the name of your two sons, whom you have just saved, desist from this combat."

"My sons, this axe does not weigh heavy in my hands--I shall extinguish in this Frank the stock of the Nerowegs."

"I, a man of an illustrious family, do battle with a beggar, a Vagre, a revolted slave! No! I shall not bestow such an honor upon you, bastard dog--you may slay me."

"Seize him, and shave his head smooth like a slave. Shame upon the coward!"

"I, shaved like a vile slave! I, undergo such an outrage! I prefer to do battle with you, vile bandit; give me the axe!"

"Here it is, count. And you, my brave Vagres, widen the circle--and long live Gaul!"

Neroweg precipitated himself upon the Vagre; the combat was engaged; it was frightful, stubborn. Loysik, Ronan, little Odille and the bishopess followed trembling and with anxious eyes the events of the struggle. It did not last long. Karadeucq spoke truly. The axe did not weigh heavy in his vigorous hand; it swung in the air and fell with a crash upon the forehead of Neroweg, who rolled down upon the grass with his skull cleaved in twain.

"Die!" cried Karadeucq with a triumphant air. "The stock of the Terrible Eagle will no longer pursue the stock of Joel!"

"You lie, Gallic dog! My stock is not extinct. I have a son of my second wife at Soissons--and my present wife, Godegisele, is with child. My stock will live!"

And with a feeble voice, the dying man added:

"Hermit laborer, give me paradise--my good Bishop Cautin, have pity upon me! Oh, I am going to hell! to hell! the demons!"

And Neroweg expired, his face contracted in diabolical terror.

Missing the count, his leudes must have concluded that he lay buried under the smoldering ruins; some feared that the revolted slaves captured and took him with them. If they searched for him, they must have found the count's body at the outskirts of the forest, with his skull cleaved in twain by an axe blow, and stretched out at the foot of a tree, with the outward bark ripped off and on the bare trunk of which the following words were engraved with the point of a dagger:

"_Karadeucq, the Vagre, a descendant of the Gaul Joel, the brenn of the tribe of Karnak, killed this Frankish count, a descendant of Neroweg, the Terrible Eagle. Long live Gaul._"