Part 4 (1/2)

Immediately upon these words, the Beautiful s.h.i.+gne ordered her virgins to row back and join the fleet of Rolf, whither the white hull of her _holker_ darted like an arrow.

CHAPTER IV.

A BERSERKER.

Following with saddened eyes the light _holker_ that carried away the warrior maid, Gaelo remained silent and pensive, while his champions rested upon their oars. The steersman, a man of about thirty years, of a merry face and clad in the coat and wide breeches of the skippers of the Seine, was named Simon Large-Ears. He owed his surname to an enormous pair of ears, that stood out far from his temples, and which were as red as his nose. Simon, once a serf of the fisheries attached to the abbey of St. Paterne, had, jointly with three other companions, who were seated on the oarsmen's benches, and who wore the Northman pointed casque and cuira.s.s of iron scales, run away to the pirates and offered them their services in the capacity of pilot and oarsmen, the moment that the numerous Northman fleet had appeared at the mouth of the Seine.

Simon and his comrades, as well as many other Gallic serfs, who availed themselves of the opportunity to drop their servitude and revenge upon their masters the ill-treatment that the latter subjected them to, only demanded from their Northman allies a share of the prospective booty.[1]

Leaning on his harpoon, silent and pensive, Gaelo contemplated the _holker_ of the Beautiful s.h.i.+gne as it rowed back and became indistinct in the light mist that frequently rises at sunset from the surface of the river's waters. Simon Large-Ears, seated at the p.o.o.p, and, as pilot, holding the rudder in his hand, said to one of his companions surnamed Robin Jaws, by reason of his lower jaw-bones protruding like a Molossian's:

”Did you hear the conversation between the Beautiful s.h.i.+gne and Gaelo?

What savage she-devils are these Northman virgins! They must be courted with rough sword whacks, caressed with battle-axe cracks, and their hearts can be reached only by boring through their b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and if you don't, then these furies make you wed death. How do you like such betrothals?”

”I would prefer to court one of those African lionesses of which Ibrahim the Saracen was telling us the other day,” and turning towards his bench-mate, a gigantic Northman of a beard so blonde that it seemed almost white, Robin said: ”h.e.l.loa, Lodbrog! If all the women of your race receive their lovers in that manner, there must be more dead bodies than new-born ones in your country.”

”Yes--but the children of these virgin warriors, whom none possesses until after he has vanquished his chosen one with the sword, become men, everyone of whom are worth ten others in vigor and bravery,” answered the giant gravely, and raising his enormous head he proceeded: ”All such children are born, like myself, berserkers.”

”Aye, aye!” put in the other Northman oarsmen in a low voice and with an accent of deference that bordered on fear. ”Lodbrog was born a berserker!”

”I do not deny it, comrades,” replied Simon; ”but by the devil! Explain to me what 'berserker' means.”

”A warrior who is always terrible to his enemies,” explained one of the Northmans, ”and sometimes dangerous to his friends.”

The giant Lodbrog nodded his head affirmatively, while Simon and Robin looked at him in astonishment, not having understood the mysterious words of the pirates. At this moment Gaelo approached his men. He had awakened from the profound revery into which the disappearance of the Buckler Maiden plunged him. The Northman chieftain looked determined.

”My champions,” said Gaelo in a resonant voice, ”we must be ahead of the Beautiful s.h.i.+gne and seize the abbey of St. Denis ourselves! Yours shall be the booty, mine the glory!”

”Gaelo,” observed Simon, ”when I heard you mention the feat to your warrior maid, I, who am well acquainted with the abbey of St. Denis, where I have recently been more than once, when I was a serf of the fishery of St. Paterne, may h.e.l.l consume it, I took your words simply as a lover's jest. Guarded as the abbey is, and fortified with thick walls, the place can resist five or six hundred determined men. How can you think of taking it with only fifteen? Come, Gaelo, you must give up the plan.”

”My braves,” resumed Gaelo, after a moment's silence, ”if I were to tell you that a serf, a swine-herd, is at this very hour a count, the seigneur and master of a province that Charles the Bald, grandfather of Charles the Simple, who is now king of the Franks, presented him with, you would answer me: 'A serf, a swine-herd, become master and seigneur of a province? It is impossible!'”

”By the faith of Large-Ears, that would, indeed, be my answer. A swine-herd can never become a count!”

”You think not?” replied Gaelo. ”And who is the present Count of Chartres and master of the country if not a pirate who one time was a swine-herd at Trancout, a poor village located near Troyes?”[2]

”Oh! Oh! Chief,” put in Robin Jaws, ”you have Hastain in mind, the old bandit who fought in the ranks of the Northman pirates! We know the song:

”When he had sacked the Franks, Saw all his s.h.i.+ps full rigged, Hastain of Rome heard tell, Vowed he would go there.

Vowed he would take the place, Plunder and pillage it, And make of Rome the King His friend Boern Iron Sides.”

”Simon,” said Gaelo, interrupting Robin's song, ”listen well with both your large ears to the end of the song! Proceed my champion!”

”The song ends well,” answered Robin, resuming the thread of the ballad:

”Down Into Italy, Plundering, the pirates went, Laded their s.h.i.+ps with rich Spoils of the Churches.

Then Hastain gave the word, For the return to France, And to the Frankish sh.o.r.es Steered they their way back.

”But the old Frankish King, Dreading the pirates' band, Quoth unto Hastain then: 'Strike not the abbeys; Touch not nor plunder them, Nor the seigniorial burgs,-- I shall establish you Count of the Chartres.'