Part 2 (1/2)

”It is the reflection of the moon on the armor of the warriors.”

”Now they are coming! Do you hear the three bugle blasts?”

”It is the signal agreed upon. Quick, now, quick! Let us unfasten the punt and cross over to the other side.”

The ropes were unfastened; pushed by Placidus and Felibien by means of long poles the punt arrived at the opposite bank. Mounted on a mule a man awaited them on the opposite sh.o.r.e. He was a Catholic priest. His face was hard and imperious. At his side was a Frankish chief on horseback and escorted by about a score of riders cased in iron. A wagon filled with baggage, drawn by four oxen and followed by several slaves on foot attended the Frankish chief.

”Reverend archdeacon,” said Placidus to the man on horseback and in the black robe, ”we began to despair of your arrival; but you are still on time. The whole colony--men, women, girls and children--is a.s.sembled at the monastery, and only G.o.d knows the abominations that are taking place there under the very eyes of Loysik, who incites these sacrilegious excesses!”

”These scandals are about to come to an end and to receive condign punishment, my sons. Can the horses of these riders and the wagon that carries my baggage be risked in that punt?”

”Reverend archdeacon, the cavalry is too numerous for one trip; we shall have to make three or four pa.s.sages before they can all be transported to the opposite bank.”

”Gondowald,” said the archdeacon to the Frankish chief, ”how would it be if we leave your horses and my mule and wagon temporarily on this side of the river? We could march straight upon the monastery with your hors.e.m.e.n following you on foot.”

”Whether on foot or on horseback, they will be enough to execute the orders of my glorious mistress, Queen Brunhild, and to dust with the shafts of their lances the backs of those monks of Satan and of those rustic plebs if they dare offer any resistance.”

”Reverend archdeacon, we who know what the monks and people of the Valley are capable of, we are of the opinion that, should they rebelliously resist the orders of our holy bishop of Chalon, twenty warriors will not suffice to overpower them.”

Gondowald cast a disdainful look at the priest, and did not even consent to make an answer.

”I do not share your fears, my dear sons; and I have good reasons for my opinion,” answered the archdeacon haughtily. ”Here we are all in the punt--push off!”

A short while later the archdeacon, Gondowald the chamberlain of Queen Brunhild, and the Queen's twenty warriors landed on the Valley sh.o.r.e, casqued, cuira.s.sed and armed with lances and swords. From their shoulders hung their gilt and painted bucklers.

”Is the distance long from here to the monastery?” inquired the archdeacon as he set foot on land.

”No, father; it is at the most a half hour's walk if we move briskly.”

”Lead the way, my dear sons--we will follow.”

”Oh, father, the impious people of this community little dream at this hour that the punishment of heaven is ready to descend upon their heads!”

”Move quickly, my sons--justice will soon be done.”

”Hermanfred,” said the chief of the warriors turning to one of the men in his troop, ”have you with you the rope and iron manacles?”

”Yes, seigneur Gondowald.”

CHAPTER IV.

BRUNHILD AND FREDEGONDE.

At the monastery the banquet was in full swing. Convivial cordiality presided over the celebration. At the table where Loysik, Ronan, the Master of the Hounds and their respective families were seated, the conversation continued animated and lively. At this moment the subject was the atrocities that took place in the gloomy palace of Queen Brunhild. The happy inhabitants of the Valley listened to the horrible account with the greedy, uneasy and shuddering curiosity that is often felt at night when, seated by a peaceful hearth, one hears some awe-inspiring history. Happy, humble and unknown, the listeners feel certain they will never find themselves concerned in any adventure of the frightful nature of the one that causes them to shudder; they fear and yet they like to hear the end of the tale.

”In order to unravel the sanguinary tangle, and seeing that Brunhild, the present ruler of Burgundy, is the theme, let us first sum up the facts in a few words. Clotaire died not long after he had his son Chram, together with the latter's wife and daughter, burned alive. That was about fifty-three years ago. Is it not so?” Ronan was saying.

”Yes, father,” answered Gregory; ”we are now in the year 613.”