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Title: Maugis, ye sorcerer
Author: Frederick Henri Seymour
Release date: September 25, 2025 [eBook #76929]
Language: English
Original publication: London: F. Tennyson Neely, 1898
Credits: Aaron Adrignola, Robert Tonsing, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from images made available by the HathiTrust Digital Library.)
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MAUGIS, YE SORCERER ***
[Illustration: THE MYSTERIOUS DOOR.]
+Maugis, Ye Sorcerer.+
+FROM Ye ANCIENT FRENCH.+
A Wonderful Tale from ye Writings of ye Mad
Savant of ye Maison Maugis in ye Olde
Citie of Mouzon, France.
By LORD GILHOOLEY, D.C.,
_Author of “Yutzo.”_
[Illustration]
F. TENNYSON NEELY,
PUBLISHER,
LONDON. NEW YORK.
Copyright, 1898,
by
+F. Tennyson Neely+,
in
United States
and
Great Britain.
All Rights Reserved.
+-----------------------------------------+
| DEDICATION. |
| TO THE FOOLS WHO COMPOSE THE “SOCIETE |
| D’ETHNOGRAPHIE” OF NANCY, FRANCE, |
| THIS WORK IS HEREBY DEDICATED. |
+-----------------------------------------+
APOLOGY.
_To the Honorable Gentlemen composing the Société d’Ethnographie,
Nancy, France._
+Gentlemen+: In the above dedication I have the sincerest regret in
committing, what under other circumstances would be an unpardonable
insult upon the gentlemen of a learned body, none of whom I have ever
had the honor of meeting, but whose position in the world of science
and letters I know to be perfectly unassailable. Let me explain.
An oath, made to the late Charles Voudran, a former member of your
Honorable Society, has compelled this regrettable action, which,
otherwise, would have resulted in the loss of a vast amount of rare
historical information to the world, as, I trust, a perusal of the
following pages, will satisfactorily explain.
With the most profound respect,
+Frederick O’Hoolihan.+
(LORD GILHOOLEY.)
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAGE.
The Mysterious Door, _Frontispiece_
Interior Cathedral, Mouzon, 12
The Haunted Battlefield, 32
Ancient Gate of Mouzon, 52
Château Montfort, 70
Surprise of the Castle, 76
Old Spanish Houses, 100
Maugis, 120
Charlemagne at the head of his Army, 124
Ye Olde City of Mouzon, 164
Cathedral of Mouzon, 216
Cathedral Door, Mouzon, 244
MAUGIS, YE SORCERER.
CHAPTER I.
(A CABLEGRAM.)
SEDAN,
PROVINCE D’ARDENNES,
FRANCE.
“_To Lord Gilhooley,_
“_Albemarle Hotel,_
“_New York. U. S. A._
“The hermit of the Maison Maugis, Monzon, committed suicide to-day.
+Albert.+”
Apropos of the above, about ten days later I received a letter from
which the following is an extract:
“He was found lying, entirely stripped, upon the floor. He had
strangled himself with a cord, having previously broken up every
article of furniture, gathered and burned in the huge fireplace
every object of wearing apparel, all papers and everything
movable, until the house was made absolutely bare. His death
created a profound sensation, as it was rumored that he had in his
possession some very old and curious manuscripts relating to the
time of Charlemagne. An elaborate search of the premises failed
to disclose anything, except some burned fragments of parchment in
the ashes of the fireplace. He had jealously guarded his discovery
during his life and was supposed to be somewhat demented, which may
account for the lamentable destruction of these precious records.
Now you are freed from your oath, give the world what you have.”
The past then came back to me, as plainly as if it had only occurred
yesterday.
I could see in my mind that merry breakfast party, three months agone,
in the great dining hall of the Château Baudelot at Haraucourt, in the
valley of the Emmene, Ardennes, France. I could remember, as if it
happened only this morning, when Albert said:
“It is very strange how things happen in this world. Life presents some
threads so fearfully tangled that it often seems as if matters were
hopeless; when lo, some little eddy in the tide of fortune swirls the
knotted kinks apart and all is well once more.”
“Very good, Albert,” said I, “and this is apropos of what?”
“Oh, nothing,” answered he, “only the thought just came into my mind.”
“Perhaps,” said his sister Mathilde, “his omelette is not agreeing with
him.”
“No,” exclaimed Louise, “that is not it—he is going to take cousin
Frederick to Mouzon to-day, and it is there that some episode is to
occur to put some new wrinkles in his existence.”
Said with smiles and laughter, these words were pathetic.
I shall never forget that day in Mouzon.
I recall how, just two hours later, we crossed the bridge over the
river Meuse, and rolled through the old gateway into the ancient
city, and how, shortly after, we were chatting with Professor Victor
d’Alembert, the head schoolmaster.
“I have brought my cousin to see the city,” said Albert.
“Ah! Mouzon is a quaint place,” responded the professor, his face
lighting up with interest. “It is a small city, but a very old one, and
so very romantic. Come with me. I will show it to you.”
Then he took us up and down crooked streets, lined with mediæval
buildings, heavily walled, with projecting stories, possessing all the
quaintness of former ages, and it was while passing through a narrow
street to a square in the heart of the city, where the houses seemed
the oldest, the oddest and the grayest, that he pointed to a heavy
oaken door set in a wall of unusual thickness.
“Look!” he said.
“At what?” inquired Albert.
“That is said to have been the home of Maugis, the famous warrior
sorcerer.”
“Very interesting,” exclaimed I, “cannot we see the interior?”
“No, no!” replied the professor somewhat emphatically, “that would
never do, its occupant resents intrusion bitterly.”
I can remember now, how a strange and unaccountable desire possessed
me to see behind that door, but it was almost forgotten, when, a few
minutes later, we were seated in the dim interior of the ancient
cathedral with its lofty gothic arches floating over us in the
obscurity, while the schoolmaster eloquently unrolled a story of
vicissitude and romance rarely equaled, for he was a master of his
subject.
Said he: “Begun by barbarians, built, beset, beleaguered, burned,
built, beset, burned, and rebuilt, again and again; such is the
alliterative history of this old city of Mouzon; the theater of wars
barbarous, of wars religious, of wars civil, and wars international;
besides of plague, pest, and famine.
“Mouzon has a history commencing far back into the shadows of the past
and terminating the day before the battle of Sedan, when Colonel de
Contrenson, at the head of the Fifth Regiment of French Cuirassiers,
charged the entire German army on these heights nearby; charged time
and again in the very teeth of their cannon, in the vain attempt to
stop their resistless onward course to Sedan, five miles away, and only
desisted when the gallant Fifth were literally reduced to a few shreds
of shattered humanity; but that was only thirty years ago.”
“Oh! rare, old Mouzon!” exclaimed he, “do you not claim the highest
regard of the lover of romance? the home of Maugis, the great warrior
sorcerer, and the scene of the rebellious warfares of those gallant
sons d’Aymon, those immortal knights Renaud, Alard, Guichard and
Richard, and of their redoubtable enemy, the princely Roland, all of
them men whose names are now a byword in history!”
“Mouzon,” continued the professor, apostrophizing, “the resort for
centuries of the high and mighty of the earth, your ancient streets
have witnessed the pageants of popes and kings, cardinals and princes,
have echoed with merry shout at carnival time, with solemn chant of
cowled monk, with cry of battle and shriek of the dying. They have
resounded with the tread of the barbarian, have known plague and
famine, and have often been illumined by the ruddy glare of fire. All
this, as time passed, has been added to the panorama of which you have
been the stage. A city situated in a battlefield, or in a spot that has
been a battlefield of Europe, through all the centuries from the time
of the Romans to the battle of Sedan.”
I can now remember, as we sat there, listening, that the voice of
the professor grew dramatic and echoed in the vast interior of the
cathedral with a solemn effect.
“Mouzon,” continued he, “the historic, the romantic has no mention
in guide books, it has no visitors or tourists, because it is out of
the traveled route. Even children in the streets gaze with curiosity
on the stranger. It has neither gained nor lost in population, as the
centuries rolled on and the events of history have thundered over it,
even from the time when this magnificent cathedral was commenced,
which, though often ruined in the wars, is, as now restored, one of the
finest specimens of Norman architecture in the world.
“Mouzon was a fortress in 247 B.C., then on the borders of France, and
was the scene of many a battle of the Visigoths and other barbarians
with the French kings. In 486 A.D. the great King Clovis wrested it
from the Visigoths and gave it, and the beautiful surrounding country,
which included the historic battlefield of Sedan, into the possession
of the good monk, St. Remy, who built and maintained a great abbey
here. For centuries thereafter it was controlled by the Catholic
Church and became a great ecclesiastical center. Prior to this time
the Romans had penetrated throughout this region, bringing their rare
civilization, building magnificent roads, fortresses and temples,
remains of which exist to-day.
“This beautiful province in northern France has been the theater of
the most tremendous events in the history of France and the history of
Europe.
“Ah! Those were terrible centuries, when the good monks lived with the
prayer book in one hand and the sword in the other.
“Then there were the great lords, or seigneurs, who divided the country
around among themselves and were always quarreling and fighting. It
was hereabouts that Charlemagne waged war against the great sorcerer,
Maugis, and his brave companions, about whom so much has come down to
us in romance and song. Nearby is the plain of Marcel, where three
young noblemen, brothers, and their retainers, fought a fratricidal
duel with each other to the death, until the ground was red with blood,
so that to this day no living thing will grow upon it, and even now, at
midnight, by putting the ear to the ground, the peasantry believe that
the sounds of battle, the crash of arms, and the shrieks of the wounded
and dying may be heard.
“It was in the immense forests, part of which now remain, that
Charlemagne had his hunting lodge, for he was a lover of the chase. It
was nearby that Maugis, the oldest son of Aymon, built the Château de
Montfort, and in it, with his doughty brothers, stubbornly resisted
the king, until finally driven out by treachery. The fortress was then
razed to the ground, so that not a trace of it remains to-day.
“Thus the history of Mouzon has been that of war and vicissitude.
It was held by the Spanish in the middle ages for a long time, and
specimens of their peculiar architecture may yet be seen in these
ancient streets.
“In 1672 the great abbey was pillaged by the iconoclasts and its vast
store of precious manuscripts was destroyed and scattered. I am still
unearthing them from all sorts of queer hiding places.”
The voice of the schoolmaster now ceased. Its echoes died away in
the dim interior. Albert and he arose to visit the organ loft, but
I remained seated, musing. The western sun shone softly through the
lofty, stained glass windows, shooting subdued colored pencils of light
across the worn pavement that finally rested upon and glorified the
recumbent figure of a warrior on a tomb near at hand, and then falling
at my feet, illumined a half-effaced epitaph:
“_Fortiter et recta haec olim_——”
The organ commenced a solemn chant and the vast interior, with an
indescribably beautiful effect, palpitated with soft harmony. As I sat
there, looking upward into the dim obscurity of the beautifully arched
roof, the ghosts of centuries seemed to float before me and a feeling
of awe possessed all my being.
Below my feet rested the ashes of generations of warriors and of
saintly men of peace who had stood before that altar and administered
the beautiful offices of the church. That floor had been trodden by
kings and princes and potentates of high degree, and more than all, by
an immeasurable mass of common humanity, that through the centuries had
prayed, wept and rejoiced within those silent walls.
[Illustration: INTERIOR CATHEDRAL, MOUZON.]
Ah! if they could only speak!
My reverie was interrupted by the return of my companions; then the
professor bade us adieu.
Albert and I once more were out into the sunlight, when the thought of
that mysterious door in that narrow street came back to me with sudden
force.
“Albert,” said I, “I have an irresistible desire to see the interior of
that queer old house, the professor told us was the home of Maugis, the
sorcerer.”
“I wouldn’t do it,” replied he.
“Why not?”
“Because the professor told me, while we were visiting the organ, that
the occupant of that house was a strange-acting old man, who becomes
very violent when intruded upon. Some regard him as partly insane,
and though he is said to be a very learned man, no one knows anything
of his early history, except that he has occupied the house for many
years. Tradition has it that the house was the home of Maugis, and it
is believed to be haunted. It certainly is the most ancient house in
Mouzon and has a remarkable fireplace, with a huge carved mantelpiece.”
“Will you come with me, Albert?” I insisted.
“Certainly,” replied he; “if you care to risk it.”
We rapped a long time upon the heavy oak door with no result, and were
about to give up in despair when we heard a creaking of bolts and
chains, and it swung partly open on its rusty hinges. A shock head of
iron-gray hair and two wild gray eyes appeared in the opening.
“Monsieur!” said Albert, “this gentleman, who is my guest, is a
foreigner and is much interested in antiquarian research. I have
ventured to intrude upon you in the hopes that you would permit us to
see the interior of this ancient house.”
No answer.
“Our object in coming here is not mere curiosity,” continued Albert;
“we shall feel much concerned to know that we disturb you, or that you
consider our visit an intrusion.”
Albert was certainly a born diplomatist.
“Did that sneaking schoolmaster send you here?” asked the old man.
“On the contrary, we came here without his knowledge and I may say
against his advice.”
A bony, inkstained hand unfastened a chain; the door creaked open.
“Come in,” he said.
We were ushered into a small apartment, with a low, heavy-beamed
ceiling, black with age. One side of the room was entirely taken up
with an enormous fireplace of a size sufficient to roast an ox. Huge
grotesque figures carved from stone, one on either side, supported
a high mantel, and a great, cast-iron plate, bearing an almost
obliterated coat-of-arms, formed its back. The uneven stone floor,
worn into hollows by the feet of generations, was cluttered up by a
bench and other _débris_, and a huge table, on which bundles of papers
were piled in the utmost confusion; a small dust-begrimed window
half-lighted the gloom.
The old man said not a word, while Albert and I examined the fireplace;
but he regarded us with a keenness that we could almost feel.
“This small house,” said Albert to me, “was evidently the porter’s
lodge or guard room of the great citadel, which centuries ago occupied
this site. It has but two rooms, you will observe, this one and the one
above.”
“You are right,” interrupted the old man; then going to the door he
opened it wide and commanded, “now go!”
We silently bowed, and were about to pass out when he laid his hand on
my arm and said:
“You will remain!”
There was an earnest look in his eyes, and I hesitated a moment; but an
imperious gesture sent Albert without; the door closed, and I was alone
with the hermit, half-madman, for such he seemed to be.
“What are you?” he demanded, turning to me.
“An Irishman.”
“When do you leave the country?”
“Next week.”
“Would you do a service for a man whose days on earth are numbered?”
asked the old man in a tone almost of entreaty.
“Surely, if I can,” I answered; “in what way could I serve you?”
“In a thousand ways,” he almost shouted, jumping to his feet, his tall
form erect, and his eyes gleaming.
“Listen,” continued he, “for thirty years I have not known a moment’s
peace. Though this place is haunted, I cannot, dare not leave—I had so
much to do. I had so much to do,” he moaned, passing his bony hand over
his forehead, and after a few moments’ pause, he continued:
“It was thirty odd years ago the curse fell upon me. I was a
schoolmaster at Pau, in southern France, and I was a passionate
antiquarian. One day I read a paper before the Société d’Ethnographie
of Nancy, of which I was then a member, on an ancient document I had
unearthed, concerning the warrior sorcerer Maugis. This manuscript I
had discovered in the ruins of an old castle. It was a short document,
but to decipher its cryptogramic characters cost me infinite labor.
It merely told the hiding place, in the north of France, of sundry
writings concerning the history of Maugis and the four sons of the
Duc d’Aymon, historic characters of the reign of Charlemagne. What
think you was my reception from them? They laughed me to scorn, those
savants. They said Maugis was apochryphal, was a myth. Then in the
intensity of my mortification and rage I defied them to their teeth and
told them I would find the papers; but France never should see them, I
would burn them first.
“They only laughed the more, and when I cursed them they expelled
me in disgrace. That did not end my persecution,” explained the old
man excitedly. “Very soon afterward they took from me my position. I
was said to be insane, and I left the south broken-hearted and came
here; that was many years ago. Aided by the directions given me in the
ancient writing, I found a vast number of documents of the greatest
historical value. Their hiding place was right here in this ancient
home of Maugis. I found them stored in a recess back of yonder iron
plate of the fireplace. Since then I have read what I could and I
have deciphered what I could, for many were written in mysterious and
magical characters, and burned them.”
“You burned them?”
“Yes, I burned them, every one.”
“Man, you are surely mad!”
“No! no!” cried he, “I am not mad, I only have my revenge, but
then”—and here his voice sank to a whisper—“_it_ told me to do it.”
“Who?”
“The vision—the vision that visits this room every night—I but do its
bidding,” he replied, shuddering.
I then saw that I was dealing with a paranoiac, yet I could not resist
the impression that there was a certain reason in his madness.
“Have you many of those papers left?” I asked.
“They are nearly finished, and when they are done I must die.”
“Listen!” he continued, his voice sinking to a whisper. “Every night
a ghostly company sits about that table, and what they say I know
not; but most awful! a decapitated head stands on its dripping neck
on the corner of that mantel up there and presides. It is the head of
Lothaire. Its dreadful eyes search my very soul. Its very bidding I
feel I must obey. It hurries me on to read! burn! read! burn! and yet
I now know very well that every paper I give to the flames in that
fireplace is a step toward death. _It_ commands, I obey, and after all
it is better so; I am content.
“Worse than all,” continued he after a moment’s pause, “that society
at Nancy learned in some way that I was right. They searched France
for me, and they finally found me here. They have written me time and
time again, but I took no notice. Then they put spies upon me—they
have even tried to poison me, and failing in that they have tried to
steal in upon me. That schoolmaster is one of them. So far they have
failed, but they are now waiting for my death, thinking then to gain
the precious writings.
“_It_ told me that a stranger would come from a far-off land, and that
I should give the result of my labor to him.
“You are the man,” he exclaimed, “I will trust you!
“Listen! while I have read and deciphered and destroyed, I have
written. See,” said he, producing a roll of closely written manuscript,
“this is a synopsis of it all, it is a history of the life of Maugis,
the sorcerer, who was not in league with the devil, as supposed, but
acted under the commands of God.
“This must never be shown to France,” cried the old man earnestly.
“Will you accept the trust and take oath to do my behest regarding it?”
“I will, providing I can,” I replied.
“Then swear it!” with a sudden force that startled me, thrusting an
ancient breviary in my face for me to kiss. “Repeat after me! swear,”
he shouted.
“+OATH.+
“I, Frederick, Lord Gilhooley, do now swear, on my hope of eternal
salvation that I accept the manuscript, notes of Maugis, from
Charles Voudran as a solemn trust. I will never show it in France.
I will keep its contents from the world until the knowledge of the
death of Voudran releases me from this, my oath; that I will then
publish it with a dedication as follows: ‘To the fools who compose
the Société d’Ethnographie of Nancy!’ So help me, God, and all the
saints.”
Almost bewildered by the strange scene and surroundings, I mechanically
repeated the oath after him, and when I had finished the strange being
looked fixedly at the corner of the mantel, where he had said the
horrid head appeared, and said:
“Does it please you, master?”
My eyes followed his, but I saw nothing.
Placing both his hands to his head, Voudran staggered to a chair,
saying to me:
“It is well! you may go, farewell!”
Hiding the precious roll under my cloak I hurried out into the pure
air and rejoined Albert, who was sauntering leisurely down the street,
enjoying a cigarette.
We directed our steps onward across the small square in front of the
cathedral; passed down the ancient main street and stood upon the old
bridge. It was sunset; a parting ray of sunshine escaping through the
clouds shot across the top of the hills over field and valley and
tenderly caressed the dingy front of the grand old church towering far
above its surroundings, glorifying it for a moment and then fading,
leaving it and the hoary-roofed houses nestling at its feet, as if for
protection, almost ghostlike in the coming twilight.
I leaned over the parapet of the bridge and looking down listened to
the gurgling of the river through its ancient arches. The charm of the
hour was upon me and it seemed to me as if I could hear voices calling
to me out of the past. I stood there, dreaming and musing upon the
strange events of the day, until aroused by my companion, who put his
hand on my shoulder and said:
“Come! we must go!”
The twilight had fallen into dusk and as I looked backward, while
turning away, at rare old Mouzon, poor old Mouzon—grand old Mouzon—it
stood out to my view with its great old cathedral looming up more
ghostlike than ever.
So, gentle reader, poor Charles Voudran is dead, and here I present
you, according to my promise, the story of Maugis, the warrior
sorcerer, and the four knightly sons of Aymon, and I pray that it may
please you well.
In presenting the exciting episodes of this story which poor Voudran,
through me, now presents to your favor, it is perhaps proper for
me to call your attention to the curious revelations it makes of
the civilization of those ancient times, where a strange mixture of
religious fervor, high chivalry, magnanimity, and keen sense of
honor, are intermingled with superstition, barbaric splendor, cruelty,
treachery, and disregard of life, altogether affording a remarkable
insight into the human nature and the manners and customs of the eighth
century.
This story deals of a period when Christianity had become widespread
throughout the then civilized world, and the prevailing conception of
God was that of an austere and awful nemesis, a deity enraged against
humanity. The element of mercy seemed to be entirely left out of God’s
dealings with mankind. The most trivial offense met an eternity of
torture in hell, the violation of an oath was eternal damnation, and
only the most ascetic means could in any event secure salvation. To
retire from the world into monasteries or solitudes was thought to be
the most successful atonement possible.
It is history how the shadow of this awful fear hung over the world
like a pall for centuries, and how in the middle ages man became fairly
mad with fright.
In relation to this story, I have made the attempt to preserve the
style of the unfortunate scholar who intrusted it to me, preserving its
simplicity, which is that as a minstrel of old going about singing of
the deeds of men.
I have carefully omitted, in the interest of the reader, the learned
disquisitions of poor Voudran on psychic phenomena as related to the
history of Maugis, which would attract those only who are studying the
subject, and which, doubtless, involved on the part of the unfortunate
scholar a vast amount of labor. Perhaps the result of his labors is
best summed up in his own words in the concluding sentences of his
manuscript now before me:
“This concludes the story of Maugis which I have laboriously gleaned
from ancient documents found in his house; I trust I have proved from
the study of the ancient Sanskrit writings among these papers that
the manifestations of Maugis were due to nothing more or less than a
knowledge of psychic phenomena that would be remarkable even in this
enlightened age, and the fear and consternation their exercise must
have produced in the age of superstition of the time of Charlemagne can
hardly be conceived.
“The secret of the whole matter I have unearthed. It seems that the
Duke d’Aymon, the father of Maugis, did heroic service in the holy
wars. He happened one time to make a prisoner of a very venerable man
who was held in captivity by the Saracens. The Duke d’Aymon, attracted
by his profound learning and great gentleness of demeanor, treated him
with the utmost consideration. His new-found friend was none other than
a renowned Hindu, a man who was not only a pundit and Mahatma, but was
also a Bodhisatva.
“This noted scholar was named Sahadeva Vyasa Pandu, who afterward
returned to France with the Duke d’Aymon and remained with him until
his death. It was under his tuition that Maugis, the eldest son of
the Duke d’Aymon, became accomplished in occult things and learned to
develop and control psychic forces; who became the possessor of the
wonderful powers of telepathy and hypnosis, and it was due to this
occult knowledge that Maugis was enabled to accomplish the marvelous
things which in that age must have appeared truly awful.”
These final words of the manuscript of poor Voudran are almost pathetic:
“I know not while I write this by whom it may be read, and I care not
so long as it is kept from that Society of Fools at Nancy, who scorned
me, who ostracised me, and who wrecked my life. I know only that my
eyes will be closed and my lips will be dumb when this protest goes out
to the great and unfeeling and cruel world.”
CHAPTER II.
Afar down the centuries in the good year 779 A.D., on a certain
afternoon in the golden month of August, the greatest excitement was
visible about the palace of the great Emperor Charlemagne at Paris. The
royal armies, headed by that great warrior, had been victorious over
the Saracens, in which battle “Guesdelin, the Sluggard,” their general,
had been killed, and he, surrounded by his victorious legions, had
returned to Paris in triumph to celebrate the _fêtes_ of the Pentecost
in company of his brilliant court. Although in that sanguinary battle
he had met with the deplorable loss of several of his bravest knights,
Noel, Count of Mans, Arnoue de Froulon, Albert de Bouillon, Solomon de
Bretagne and a number of others; nevertheless the _fêtes_ were not made
less brilliant by the absence of these brave men. There had assembled
at Paris for his great occasion, all the dukes and peers of France with
their glittering retinues, and with them also came many princes and
noblemen from other courts of Europe to assist in the festivities.
Among all that brilliant assemblage the most remarked were the brave
Duke d’Aymon, Lord of Dordogne, and his four gigantic sons, Maugis,
Allard, Guichard and Richard, all handsome and courageous young men.
Maugis, above the others, commanded the admiration of the entire
court, his height, for he was seven feet tall, his valor and his great
learning, for he was the pupil of a pundit whose life had been saved by
his father during the Saracenic wars, and who had enriched his young
charge from his vast store of occult knowledge, had made him renowned
already, and it was generally conceded that he was destined for a great
career.
The great audience chamber was packed with this brilliant assemblage
on that August afternoon, and the babble of voices that filled the air
fell into a profound hush upon the entry of the emperor.
Unbefitting the joy of the occasion, his brow was clouded by a deep
frown, and gazing upon the sea of upturned faces before him for awhile,
he arose from his throne and amid a great silence addressed them in
these words:
“Brave knights, your valor has aided me in the highest degree to
overcome the enemy, to conquer many cities, and obtain the submission
of their people. But alas! to secure these grand results we have the
sorrow to lose many of our noblest born. Bad enough as this is there
is yet another matter that deeply incenses me and of this I now speak.
Because Gerard de Roussillon, the Duke of Nantueil, and the Duke de
Beuves d’Aigremont, all three of them our brothers and our subjects,
refused me their aid, I now make complaint against them. Believing in
their oaths of allegiance to me I surely counted upon their aid, and
without their force or aid was compelled to engage superior numbers.
It is to Solomon, who came to our succor with thirty thousand troops,
and Lambert, and Galeron de Bordeille, and Berruger, to whom is due our
victories.”
At this point the emperor rose to his full height, and with eyes
flashing, continued: “I now declare to you that I shall once more
appeal to the Duke Beuves d’Aigremont to fulfill his allegiance and
if he still resists I shall lay siege to his dominions; if I become
aroused I will not stop at taking life. I will flay him alive, send
his wife and his son Renaud to the stake, and give their country up to
pillage.”
At these savage words, uttered with the utmost anger, the Duke de
Naimes, who was considered to be the wisest man of the court, arose and
responded to the king:
“Sire, employ all possible means to avoid war, which is always cruel
to the people whom you govern. Therefore send to the Duke d’Aigremont
a man who is capable, sure and faithful and one in whom you can place
your entire confidence, one who combines all the qualities of _finesse_
and prudence required by the importance of this mission. Let him go to
the duke and present to him his forgetfulness of his oath to you in
such terms of consideration and without pride of manner as will have
the most effect and then let the answer your majesty receives govern
the determination as to what course your majesty will take.”
The king, strongly impressed by this sensible advice, adopted it, but
was much embarrassed to make a selection of a man sufficiently discreet
and courageous to fulfill such a perilous mission—one who had neither
fear of the menaces of the famous duke, or the tried warriors of his
family. He finally chose his own son Lothaire, who accepted with all
the submission of a son and loyal subject, not without having demanded
the benediction of his royal father, the blessing of heaven, and at the
same time prayed God to care for his family.
Charlemagne had no sooner made this decision when he was assailed with
the most dire presentiments, and his depression was only increased when
the following morning he saw the departure of his son and his suite,
composed of one hundred brave knights, well armed and equipped. It
seemed to the unhappy king as if he was gazing for the last time on
the face of his well-beloved son, and the while regretted keenly that
etiquette would not allow a monarch to go himself as ambassador and
demand an account of a disloyal subject of his rebellion.
News traveled very quickly even in those olden days, and it was not
long before the Duke d’Aigremont was informed of the departure of the
cavalcade at the head of which gayly rode the young prince, and thanks
to the activity of his spies, the news came to D’Aigremont the moment
of the reunion of his barons at his castle to celebrate the _fêtes_ of
Pentecost and to participate in the tournaments and games which were
customary at that epoch. Enraged at the fact of an embassy approaching
him on such a mission, and desiring to hasten his expression of
insubordination, he at once announced to his barons his intention of
giving offense to the king, and addressed them in these words:
“What now, sirs! the king not only makes the mistake of pretending to
make me and my people serve him, but he sends his oldest son to me to
make me menaces. What would you do under such circumstances were you in
my place?”
He had among his knights some men who were very true and sincere in
their counsel and who did not hesitate to speak plainly. One Sir Simon
was called upon and expressed himself thus:
“Monseigneur, a man who resists his king, who, after his God, is his
lord and master, makes an offense against heaven and justice. What do
you propose to do? Sustain your disobedience by force of arms? We are
all ready to shed our blood to the last drop, if may be, in the cause
of justice, and our valor will never allow us to yield to numbers,
but what will be our fate if we are defeated? How can you expect the
clemency of the king if you refuse to receive his son? Have you no fear
of the fate of a rebellious subject?”
The Duke d’Aigremont would not allow him to finish. Sparks of fire shot
from his eyes, their pupils dilated and he menaced his loyal servitor
for having ventured to speak so freely.
The duchess, on her part, fearful of the result, conjured the
inflexible man to listen to the counsels of his true friends and to
again seek to enter into the good graces of the king; when, however,
the matter was submitted to the assemblage, there was a great division
of opinion. This is why the advice of the good duchess was opposed by
some and satisfied others.
The Duke d’Aigremont insisted on his intention of declining to serve
the king and refused to listen while, said he, he had three brothers
from whom he had a right to expect support, without counting his four
nephews, the sons of the Duke d’Aymon, without doubt the most valiant
warriors of the kingdom.
Meanwhile, during the occurrence of these scenes, the cavalcade of
Lothaire came into view of the castle. He had never seen a fortress in
a more formidable position, situated as it was on a high and almost
inaccessible rock at the foot of which a deep river ran.
“Indeed, your highness,” said the commander of the escort to the young
prince, “yon is a formidable place truly.” The castle had now come more
fully into view and as its tall battlements flanked by two high towers
arose on high, outlined against the blue sky, the prince only smiled
and replied:
“Tut! Gaston, the sight of such an obstacle only incites me the more to
fulfill the mission intrusted me, and nothing shall retard me.”
In due time, to the sound of a lively fanfare by his heralds, Prince
Lothaire stood before the gates of the castle and was admitted to the
great court that was ominously guarded by grim soldiery.
The Duke d’Aigremont received him in the great audience-chamber seated
upon his throne. Beside him were his wife and son Renaud. Lothaire
advanced to the duke to acquaint him with his mission, but instead of
talking with moderation and following the counsels of the principal
knights of his suite, he forgot all reserve and with a haughty mien
spoke as follows:
“Woe to the servant who disobeys his master! Monseigneur! Charlemagne
is irritated against you because you have not obeyed his commands. He
demands to know your reasons. Also am I come by his commands to promise
you his pardon, provided you will at once place yourself at his mercy
and make oath to send him five hundred knights. If you persist in your
refusal you shall receive no pity. Punishments most cruel will be
visited upon thee and thine, and the loss of all thy domains and all
thy subjects will be the consequence of thy obstinacy. I require an
immediate answer. Decide quickly, for Charlemagne awaits my return with
impatience.”
At these bold and indiscreet words the Duke d’Aigremont bounded to his
feet enraged.
“By Saint Gris!” he cried, “tell thy father, Charlemagne, that not only
do I refuse his appeal to assist him in war, but that I will myself
make war upon him. I will come with my own army and destroy the kingdom
of France.”
“Thou traitor!” shouted Lothaire in reply, forgetting all restraint and
refusing the warnings of his suite to conduct himself moderately.
Those old days were grim times—there was very little between a word and
a blow.
“Have a care, young man,” hissed D’Aigremont, his eyes blazing. “You
will never return to thy father.”
“Traitor and coward!” hotly responded the prince, drawing his sword.
The duke, upon this, unsheathed his own sword and sprang upon Lothaire,
his knights threw themselves upon the suite of the prince, and the
_mêlée_ became general.
The great audience-chamber rang with sounds of blows, oaths, shouts,
and the cries of the wounded and dying.
[Illustration: THE HAUNTED BATTLEFIELD.]
Prince Lothaire was everywhere, his sword seemed invincible, a man fell
at every stroke. Even when the Duke d’Aigremont appeared before him
he barely resisted the furious onward rush of Lothaire and fell back
staggering and wounded from a terrible stroke of his sword. But quickly
recovering, in his turn he struck down the prince with all his force,
and such was his fury he did not leave the mangled remains until he had
cut off the head of his opponent.
Meantime in battle around them the men of the prince had fought
bravely, although greatly outnumbered. Of the one hundred men composing
the suite, only twenty remained alive, and these, seeing the fall of
their chief commander, surrendered. The infuriated duke ordered all but
ten of them to be killed, and these he made swear solemnly that they
would carry the remains of the prince back to Paris.
“Tell him, thy master,” said he, “that here is the body of thy son. Be
assured I shall not wait idly for thee to come and succor it.”
The ten knights having given their word to report these words
faithfully, put the remains of Lothaire in a chariot and departed
sorrowfully homeward.
In the meantime, Charlemagne, much disquieted at not receiving news of
his son, openly manifested his fears. The sinister presentiments he had
had made him think his son was dead, then in an access of rage he made
the most terrible threats against the Duke d’Aigremont.
“I will go,” said he, “at the head of an army and reduce him to the
most cruel extremities.”
Those surrounding him endeavored to calm him and convince him that
it would be impossible for the Duke d’Aigremont to be capable of so
infamous an action.
“If ever,” cried the Duke d’Aymon, “the Duke d’Aigremont has committed
such a crime, he should be served with a startling vengeance. Who among
us would refuse you support? For me, sire! and my four sons, count on
our loyalty and courage.”
“I am deeply moved by thy fidelity, my good Aymon,” replied the king.
“Many affairs have so occupied me that I have not yet seen thy four
brave sons. Do thou present them to me on the morrow that I may arm
them in a style befitting their high rank.”
Following upon this, the next day, in the presence of the whole
court, Charlemagne formally knighted Maugis and presented him with a
magnificent suit of armor that he had himself taken from the King of
Cyprus, who had fallen under his own hand at Paraplumex. Then the king
embraced him. Maugis had then placed upon his feet the golden spurs of
Oger, the Dane, after which he sprang upon the back of his favorite
horse, Bayard, whose name has come down to us in poetry and song as
one of the most perfect animals that ever existed.
The three brothers of Maugis were equally well armed and knighted.
Following these ceremonies, Charlemagne gave a tournament in their
honor, at which the young men so acquitted themselves as to win the
admiration of everyone.
Maugis, having defeated one of the most skillful knights of
Charlemagne’s court, while riding around the lists toward the station
of the king, amid the tumultuous plaudits of the onlookers, was stopped
in his course by seeing a tiny glove tied with a knot of blue ribbon
fall at his feet. Hastily dismounting and recovering it he looked up
among the sea of faces regarding him and his eye was arrested by a
beautiful figure seated beside a stalwart warrior, one of the guests of
the court.
When two beautiful blue eyes met his own, their glance sought his heart
direct; even as a moonbeam will kiss a placid pool and glorify it, so
was the heart of Maugis gladdened. He failed not during the few seconds
of the episode to note the tall willowy figure and the shapely head
which was soon hidden blushing behind the shoulder of her brother,
shrinking from the too ardent gaze of the young knight. Neither failed
he to note that her slender waist was encircled by a sash of the same
hue as the ribbon on the glove he held in his hand.
Little did he know the vicissitudes that would afterward divide their
lives and pursue them when united—he only loved and was happy.
Reverently kissing the glove, Maugis placed it on his helmet and
thereafter performed such deeds of valor and prowess that everyone
was amazed. Charlemagne hastened to swear the four brothers into his
service, and insisted that Maugis should never quit him. Still no news
of Lothaire. The entire court was depressed. The king, accompanied by
the Duke of Naimes, took long walks on the banks of the Seine, their
favorite promenade, and there alone with his most intimate friend, the
king poured out to him all his hopes and fears. One day while taking
their accustomed walk, they saw at a great distance a cavalier covered
with dust approach them at a gallop. They both at the same instant
recognized him as one of the suite of Lothaire. Charlemagne, turning
pale, threw himself into the arms of the Duke of Naimes.
“My son is dead,” he cried, “and it is I who am his murderer. How much
better it would have been if, instead of showing clemency to the Duke
of Aigremont, I had marched upon him at the head of an army. I would
not have been to-day mourning the death of my son.”
At this moment the messenger knight, who had ridden night and day to
bring the tidings, presented himself before them and announced the
bloody death of Lothaire, which having done, overcome with fatigue, he
fell at the feet of Charlemagne and expired.
A most touching scene then occurred between the emperor and his
confidant. Both wept and amid their tears sought to console each other.
“Why shed tears?” said the Duke de Naimes, “our regrets will not bring
back the prince to life. It is vengeance we must have now. To punish
the murderer is, above all, our sole aim. God, who never abandons those
who battle for the right, will sustain us. Here, it is not only the
father who fights the assassin of his son, it is the sovereign who
demands account of the blood of his ambassador.”
This energetic discourse had the effect intended by the duke.
Charlemagne, with his face resolute, laid aside his sorrowings and gave
orders to his knights, courtiers and soldiers for the disposition of
the remains of his son. An immense _cortége_ accompanied the body to
the church of St. Germain des Pres, where the final obsequies occurred.
After the ceremony terminated, when Charlemagne was returning
sorrowfully to Paris with his suite, revolving in his mind projects
of vengeance, a messenger brought to him the startling intelligence
that the Duke d’Aymon and his four sons had suddenly left the court
and had quitted Paris. At this the king became so enraged and swore so
violently that it was all in vain the courtiers sought to calm him by
calling his attention to the fact that the Duke d’Aymon was the own
brother of the Duke d’Aigremont, who had murdered his son, and when he
left his sons were in duty bound to accompany him. Charlemagne could
listen to nothing, but finally becoming more calm, demanded to know the
real reason for the departure of the five knights.
It was reported to him that the Duke d’Aymon de Dordogne, being made
aware of the death of Lothaire and of the felony of his brother
d’Aigremont, called his sons together in council. He felt that they
were in a false position owing to the shameful defection of their
relative, and he realized that Charlemagne, in his just anger, would
take a terrible revenge. What should they do? What course should they
take? Support Charlemagne and thus aid in the destruction of their
relative, or embrace the cause of Aigremont and violate their oath to
the emperor?
Said Maugis: “I propose that we leave the court, retire to the
Ardennes, and remain there to witness the result. By doing this neither
party could accuse us of treason, for until we have taken a final
decision we would have neither violated the ties of relationship nor
the laws of friendship.”
This proposition was agreed to by all, and they immediately left the
court and set out upon their journey home.
Though the motive of their sudden departure was honorable,
Charlemagne, irritated not to have the help of five men of renowned
valor, would consider no excuse and swore against them a war of
extermination.
While the court of Charlemagne was engaged in active preparations,
Aymon and his four sons gained in all haste their domains in the
Ardennes, where Edwige, the wife of the duke, received them with joy.
After the first moments consecrated to greeting, Edwige would know the
news from Paris.
Alas! the joy of the poor mother was short-lived when she was apprised
of the cause of their return.
Edwige was at the same time allied by marriage to the house of
Charlemagne and to that of Aigremont. Her course was very difficult to
choose; but having carefully reflected, she said to her husband and
sons:
“Why do you hesitate to march with Charlemagne? He is your lord and
has armed our sons; this thought should carry you to that side. The
crime of our relative is infamous and inexcusable, and think you that
the emperor, after having chastised the criminal, will not follow it
up by attacking the traitors who have aided his enemies by a passive
assistance, and who have, by so doing, diminished the forces of the
royal army?
“The crime of D’Aigremont is unpardonable. An ambassador is sacred in
all cases and it is violating those usages and those laws, recognized
by all mankind, and more, his act has plunged the king into the
deepest sorrow by cutting the throat of his son, who came in the name
of his father to claim those sacred rights a sovereign has over his
princes. If Aigremont conquers, how much will your conscience reproach
you for not having aided in the punishment of the culpable. If on the
other hand, he is vanquished, have you not good reason to fear the
conqueror, who has insults and infidelity to avenge? The best thing to
do is to take my advice, return to the emperor at once and serve him
faithfully.”
The truth and justice of these words made a profound impression on the
father and his sons, but the young knights did not relish the idea of
returning to Paris, so they formed their plans to pass some time at the
château of their father. Meanwhile, Charlemagne was actively occupied
in raising his army. In response to his call, all the peers and knights
were assembling their vassals on their estates.
May 18th was the time fixed for the assemblage of the army on the
Champs-de-Mars at Paris.
The subjects of the emperor were not a single instant behind the day
set.
On the part of the Duke d’Aigremont, he, knowing full well that the
king would never pardon his crime, gave every attention to putting
himself in defense, and made the rounds of his entire domain.
After a time he had raised a considerable army. His brothers, Gerard
de Roussillon and the Duke de Nanteuil, also joined him with a number
of soldiers.
When his army was complete, D’Aigremont deemed it wise to go out and
meet the king, before he could besiege him in his own country, having
respect for an enemy so bitter and active as Charlemagne. In fact the
king, anxious to secure his revenge, would permit no one to place
his troops. He would do that himself. He confined his advance guard
to Gallerand de Bouillon, Nemours, Gui de Baviere, Oger, Richard and
Eatonville. The rearguard was commanded by the Duke of Naimes.
The center he reserved for himself, and having made this disposition of
his forces his army set out.
Hardly had the march commenced when he was informed by a deserter of
the advance of the army of the Duke d’Aigremont to meet him, and that
he had already invaded Champagne and was laying siege to Troyes with
great activity, which news caused him to throw forward the detachments
of the Duke de Naimes, the Duke de Bouillon and Godefroy de Frise, with
orders to await the arrival of the main army, a short distance from the
besieged city.
De Roussillon, who commanded the advance guard of D’Aigremont, soon
perceived the advance guard of the king’s army and giving his war-cry,
at once charged upon them, to which the army of Charlemagne responded,
and the two armies met with a terrible shock, and so fierce was the
onset that the ground was soon strewn with the wounded and dying and
the _débris_ of arms.
The Duke d’Aigremont charged upon Oger and stretched him senseless
at his feet. Gerard and Nanteuil came quickly to join their brother,
followed by the best of their troops, and hurled themselves on the
enemy with renewed fury. Then were performed acts of the greatest
valor. Richard de Normandy, who commanded the allies, made a heroic
resistance. Spearmen from Lombardy, bowmen from Germany and Portevin,
in serried ranks offered an indestructible line of battle. One knight,
with more hardihood than the others, hurled himself against them in the
endeavor to break it, and received his death by a lance-thrust from
Gerard.
The three brothers, seeing that they could obtain no chance for success
from that side, renewed their efforts by hurling themselves on the army
of Charlemagne.
At the first shock the forces of Gallerand de Bouillon were nearly
thrown from their feet. It was a moment requiring all their tenacity.
Many were killed on both sides, but Charlemagne, with a prudence
that never deserted him, even in the most perilous moments, allowed
D’Aigremont and his brother to become engaged more and more until he
found a favorite moment, and then moved his troops quickly around the
flank of their forces and caught them in the rear.
The duke had been wounded by Richard de Normandy, and his life was only
saved by the fall of his horse, which tumbled under a stroke of the
sword intended for him.
Retreat now became the last resource of the army of the Duke
d’Aigremont and the order was given and the battalions that had started
out so brilliantly in the morning commenced to retire in good order.
Charlemagne at once saw the movement, and calling to him the Duke de
Naimes, Godefroy de Frise, Gallerand and many others, he ordered them
to pursue the Duke d’Aigremont and his brothers without relaxation, and
if possible take them alive that he might visit upon them the direst
vengeance.
These brave knights immediately started in pursuit of the enemy,
but the falling of night prevented their carrying out the orders of
Charlemagne.
After the terrible exertions of the day both armies needed rest. The
Duke d’Aigremont was much chagrined at his defeat. His brother Gerard,
in particular, who had been annoyed at the death of Lothaire, could
not conceal his discontent; he could not resist making the complaint
that he had made his promise to assist D’Aigremont in all things, but
nevertheless, he desired to resume the attack upon the king the next
day with all the force they could command and avenge their defeat and
Nanteuil dissuaded them.
“I think,” said he, “that we are not defending a just cause, and that
it would be better to send a deputation of our knights to Charlemagne
and ask for peace. Are we not his subjects? Besides to prevail, we must
attack him unaware. And suppose we do succeed in destroying his army,
it will only follow that we shall again be opposed by a force more
considerable than any we can assemble? No! I think the wisest course
for us to pursue is to submit.”
The advice of Nanteuil prevailed. It was agreed that the following
morning ambassadors were to be sent to Charlemagne to make terms of
peace.
Accordingly, at sunrise the next day, thirty knights, chosen from the
most experienced and from those of the highest rank, after having
received the instructions of D’Aigremont, mounted their horses and
proceeded to the camp of Charlemagne.
The king being informed of their approach assembled his army in battle
array and received them at the door of his tent. The messengers of
D’Aigremont came forward, bearing an olive branch as a sign of peace,
and kneeling before him bowed down to the earth.
“Rise!” commanded Charlemagne.
“Sire,” said Henri de Brienne, “we have come in the name of the Duke de
Beuves d’Aigremont to implore your clemency. We recognize the enormity
of our crime, and here before your majesty we would place ourselves
into your hands. We supplicate you, above all, to spare the poor people
we compelled to obey us and who were forced into complicity in our
crime. If your majesty will but say the word, the Duke d’Aigremont and
his brothers will come and submit themselves to any punishment you may
see fit to impose upon them.”
The king, trembling at the thought of being brought face to face once
more with the murderer of his son, ordered the knights to return
to their master and to have him present himself at once to receive
punishment for his crimes, accompanied by his three brothers; that
his army must surrender at discretion; that the ambassador might
have no illusions as to his formal intention not to submit to any
supplications, and that the truth of these words might be forced upon
them, he ordered, in their presence, the erection of three gibbets upon
which the three brothers were to swing.
These grim preparations completed, Charlemagne sent them back, giving
them until noon to execute his commands, under penalty of immediately
commencing hostilities.
The thirty knights returned to their camp and faithfully reported
to the Duke d’Aigremont the words of Charlemagne. There was nothing
left to do but bravely accept their fate. The order was immediately
given for the disarmament of the troops. The Duke d’Aigremont had a
difficult task in overcoming the repugnance of Gerard de Bouillon and
De Nanteuil to submitting, but they finally consented to accompany him.
It was a sad and curious spectacle to see the Duke d’Aigremont and his
two brothers on that bright and beautiful May morning, stripped to
their shirts, with heads bare, with a cord attached to their necks,
march at the head of several hundred knights, stripped to their shirts
likewise, and followed by their soldiers with heads bare, all marching
on foot along the road which separated their camp from the camp of
Charlemagne. Upon their arrival at the tent of the emperor the three
brothers with their suite and all their army kneeled to the earth, amid
a great hush from the assembled hosts.
With constrained voice the emperor bid the three brothers arise, and
sternly but silently pointed to them the way to the scaffold.
The three brothers without a single supplication obeyed in silence.
On arriving at the foot of the gibbet, the emperor, who had followed,
could no longer conceal his emotion, and for the moment the heart of
the soldier overcame the sorrows of the father. He paused and with
bitter tears filling his eyes:
“Barbarians!” cried he, “why should you have punished me so cruelly by
destroying my beloved son, a young prince who complied loyally with the
orders of his sovereign?”
D’Aigremont was deeply affected by the grief of the emperor. “Sire!”
said he, “I beg to die without delay; I realize the enormity of my
crime and that death alone can remove my disgrace.”
The executioners then approached to perform their sinister offices. The
assembled armies awaited, breathless and concerned, the end of this
powerful drama.
The emperor seemed to be entirely absorbed in his grief, but suddenly
recovering command of himself and with a noble generosity, so
characteristic of him, he forgot the death of his son, and, sacrificing
his grief and revenge, these words fell from his lips:
“I pardon you,” said he to the condemned. “Can you appreciate the
sentiments that dictate my conduct to you? Resume your titles and
your dignities, everything shall be forgotten and the past shall be
effaced—this time do not forget your oaths of fidelity, or else you
cannot hope for my forgiveness.”
A thrill of admiration ran through all the spectators. Mute with
surprise at first, there finally arose an explosion of joy from the
hearts of those who, an instant previous, had been torn with fear and
sorrow. Loud acclaims arose on every hand and the soldiers of the two
armies embraced each other in a transport of joy.
D’Aigremont and his brothers were stricken dumb with surprise. They
could hardly comprehend the greatness of soul and generosity of the
emperor and stood silent. They then solemnly promised never to do
anything again contrary to the wishes of their master, and renewed
their oaths of fidelity.
The Duke de Naimes, the most devoted friend of the emperor, could not
contain his satisfaction.
“Sire,” exclaimed he, “you are the greatest king the world has ever
known. This act of generosity, which does you honor, will be an
imperishable monument to you. You have commended your friends and your
people to God and you will never have cause to regret your action.”
After some moments, when the enthusiasm had become calmed, Charlemagne
caused all the arms and equipments of the three brothers, their knights
and soldiers, to be returned to them, and when they had received them
they cried to be led against the foes of the emperor and promised
to use all efforts to aid him. The princes and their men that night
encamped with the royal army.
CHAPTER III.
All being restored to order and the war between himself and subjects
having been terminated, Charlemagne returned to Paris, after having
made an appointment with the Duke d’Aigremont to meet him at the
capital.
The duke was pledged to come immediately with two hundred men, also
to raise six thousand men additional, and the same were to report at
Paris in good order as soon as possible to join the king’s army. Gerard
and Nanteuil, the brothers of d’Aigremont, the emperor commanded, were
to proceed with him as an escort, and were to march in advance with
himself.
Agreeable to this arrangement, some time afterward, when the Duke
d’Aigremont had proceeded toward Paris, until he was nearly at
Soissons, he perceived an army of about four thousand men advancing to
meet him. He was much puzzled to account for this movement and deemed
it prudent to stop.
The forgiveness that Charlemagne had solemnly accorded the duke had,
it seems, created a profound jealousy in the hearts of many of the
courtiers, one of whom in particular regarded his noble action simply
as an act of cowardice. He was jealous of the emperor and jealous of
the duke. His cowardly mind prompted him to dishonor the former and
get rid of the latter, if he could only contrive some means to attack
him, for he was possessed of considerable force and had great courage
besides. He decided that to disgrace him would be the better plan. This
is why he then proceeded to represent insinuatingly to the emperor
that he had been hasty and inconsiderate in his pardon of the princes,
even though they had taken a new oath of fidelity. There could be no
doubt that it was their plan to surround the king when a favorable
opportunity came with a force he could not resist. This traitor further
represented to the king that allowing himself to be so encompassed by
these princes was an inconsistent act amounting to temerity and that
it would have been infinitely better to have immediately gotten rid of
them in some indirect manner than to allow them an opportunity to form
new relations in the royal army.
This tempter also worked on the royal mind by bringing up past
injuries, and he cunningly brought up the cruel death of Lothaire,
until he felt certain of obtaining, if not an order, at least a tacit
consent to the carrying out of his evil designs. That was what came
about.
This villainous plotter was Ganelon, who, after this preliminary
poisoning of the emperor’s mind, completed his work by going to him
accompanied by three other knights, when all three represented to the
emperor that if the Duke d’Aigremont was allowed to come to Paris with
an army he might do so with one double the strength he had promised,
which would surely compromise his security; it being the intention of
the duke, they were sure, to raise the standard of revolt at the first
opportunity.
“In effect, sire!” said Ganelon, “it would be quite easy to sow
discord in an army composed of different peoples. Prejudices could be
created by exciting one against the other until a conflict would be
precipitated that would endanger the crown itself.”
“Sire,” said another knight, “to prevent such a dire disaster, there is
only one way.”
“And that is,” queried the now thoroughly enraged emperor.
“To stop his coming and to take him dead or alive and punish him for
having violated his new oath,” cried Ganelon.
“S’ death! I find it ill favors me to believe this,” exclaimed
Charlemagne with darkened brow, “D’Aigremont swore to me his fidelity
and that he should violate it a second time is impossible.”
“But sire!” urged Ganelon, “consider the safety of your majesty and
that of the state.”
“Enough!” thundered the emperor. “I will not believe it. However,
rather than have myself to reproach for a deplorable conflict, such
as would occur by these reports, take four thousand soldiers and go
yourself to meet D’Aigremont and assure yourself of his faithfulness.”
A gleam of triumph lighted the eyes of the perfidious plotter, though
his impassiveness did not betray the feelings of triumph which surged
in his breast, as he, with his three fellow conspirators, left the
royal presence. He had obtained part of what he desired, knowing that
at the same time he had also been able to show every indication of zeal
and profound attachment to the emperor. He hastened to put himself at
the head of his troops and set out on his mission.
It was this body of troops, headed by Ganelon, that barred the progress
of the Duke d’Aigremont toward Paris.
The duke paused in his march with a sinking heart. “Why,” he asked
himself, as the royal banners came into view and apprised him that it
was the king’s forces that faced him, “should the emperor send these
troops to resist me?”
He, however, determined to face the situation boldly and advanced with
his escort toward the royal army.
The duke approached within speaking distance, paused and respectfully
saluted the royal colors.
[Illustration: ANCIENT GATE OF MOUZON.]
“May I inquire,” he demanded in a respectful tone, “why this army is
against me?”
“In good sooth, may’st thou!” replied Count Morillon, the lieutenant of
Ganelon, “there can be but one way to meet traitors, but with force,
neither can there be but one way to treat assassins.”
At these insulting words the face of the duke flushed hotly, but with
an effort of will he controlled himself and said with great deference:
“This must be an error, peace has been made and there can be no excuse
for recommencing a conflict that will perhaps prove fatal to each of
us.”
“Traitor!” shouted Morillon in reply. “It may be the emperor has
pardoned thee, but the people have neither forgiven thee nor thy
crimes.”
At these words Ganelon shouted: “_A bas le assassin!_” and at the head
of his troops bore down upon the duke and his small escort. But the
latter was too brave a man to retreat before this threatening movement.
Ganelon thought for a moment that the duke would seek safety in flight
and ordered Morillon to get in his rear. But the brave duke resisted
this movement, for it was his last thought to fly. Even had he so
thought, it was now too late, such were the superior numbers against
him. Morillon succeeded in getting in his rear and he was completely
surrounded.
Then commenced a most desperate battle and in a very short time
the duke had lost half of his people, but the remainder fought with
a determination to die rather than surrender. It was a conflict of
giants. Each sword-stroke claimed its victim and even the horses joined
the men in that frenzied struggle.
The duke slew with one blow of his mighty sword, both Helic and
Godefroy. Morillon would have encountered the same fate but for the
quickness of Griffon de Hautfeuille, who cut down the horse of the Duke
d’Aigremont, who, entangled in the fall, could not recover himself,
and Ganelon ran him through with his sword, while at the same moment
Griffon pierced him to the heart.
Only ten knights now remained of the duke’s escort and they were
speedily disarmed and supplicated for their lives, which Ganelon
granted them on the condition that they bear the body of their master
back to his château.
Thus was a most cruel retaliation visited upon the poor Duke
d’Aigremont. The conquered knights accepted these conditions to save
their lives, but with the secret thought in their hearts to avenge the
death of their master. Covering up the remains, they then left for the
land of D’Aigremont, where they soon arrived.
The poor duchess swooned on seeing the body of her husband, but
collecting herself, she approached the blood-stained bier with her son
Renaud and made him swear upon it to employ all means possible to
avenge the murder of his father, which oath it will be seen he kept
fully.
Ganelon and Griffon, proud of their achievement, in due time arrived in
Paris, and went to the court. But instead of meeting with a favorable
reception, received only words and looks of disapprobation. A man like
Ganelon, however, was not to be rebuked so easily. He appeared before
the emperor and presented, on his knees, the sword with which the Duke
d’Aigremont had killed his son.
“Sire,” said Ganelon humbly, “I know that every one disapproves of me
here. Sire, am I then blamable for having killed the assassin of your
son? Such is my disposition and I cannot help it. I may have disobeyed
my prince in my zeal, but I have obeyed my conscience which would
never permit me to allow such an awful crime to go unpunished. If you
disfavor me, sire, order my death, for I am a man who would willingly
go to death for you, but you would lose one of your most devoted
knights merely because he killed the murderer of your son.”
Charlemagne found himself in a position of strange perplexity. The
court was silent, while with troubled face and bowed head the emperor
answered not the supplicant before him.
“Thou art deserving of severe chastisement,” he thundered. “I like not
the idea of having failed when we have given our royal word. The Duke
d’Aigremont had obtained of me full pardon and I therefore should not
tolerate his assassination.”
The face of Ganelon paled—had he then gone too far?—matters boded ill
for him and a faint murmur of approval rose from the courtiers round
about the vast audience-chamber at the words of the king.
At this moment the Duke de Naimes and several other lords approached,
whom Griffon de Hautfeuille had artfully succeeded in winning over to
their cause, and supplicated Charlemagne for their pardon. At last the
emperor acceded, perhaps influenced by the secret fear of offending so
many powerful nobles by refusing, and the affair was suffered to rest
there.
When the news of the pardon came to the Château d’Aigremont it had the
effect of increasing the grief and rage of his son Renaud, who hastened
to see his people and asked them to swear to enter into a war against
the emperor at the first favorable moment. They consented with loyalty.
Maugis, the eldest of the four sons of Aymon and nephew of the murdered
duke, was most ardent in his desire to punish such an act of treachery,
and it is from this point the real history of Maugis begins.
CHAPTER IV.
Charlemagne had no sooner been apprised by Ganelon of the misfortune
to the Duke de Beuves d’Aigremont, then he expedited a courier to the
duchess to assure her of his profound regret, and above all to give
her to understand that, although for sufficient reasons he had granted
grace to the murderers, it was not by his means, either directly or
indirectly, that the infamy was consummated.
The duchess, however, while appreciating the step of the emperor, said
to the messenger:
“Go tell thy master that to avenge my husband is now my sole desire;
that to accomplish this end I should sacrifice my family, my fortune
and my life. I shall from this day henceforth regard the carrying out
of this project a solemn duty.”
In the meantime the Duke d’Aymon and his sons, appreciating the fatal
consequences of a war to both parties, besought the Duchess d’Aigremont
to allow them to go to Charlemagne and make an appeal to him for
satisfaction for the injury done the family.
Charlemagne received the duke and his sons graciously. He understood
the motive that had led them to preserve neutrality during the late
war and he now entertained no resentment to them for it. On that
account he gave the duke and his sons to understand that they occupied
a high place in his favor.
Notwithstanding the fair words of the emperor, the five ambassadors
feared he would evade the question. Ganelon had not been summoned.
Aymon represented to the emperor the enormity of the crime and the
disloyalty of Ganelon, as well as the bad effect it would have on the
army to pardon such a traitor.
The emperor said in reply: “I well know, my noble duke, that what thou
sayest is just and reasonable. I also assure thee that I have already
pardoned Ganelon,” and, he added sternly: “Having given our royal word,
we shall maintain it, it being our good pleasure to do so.”
The Duke d’Aymon made no reply to these plain words and with flushed
face retired.
Maugis, however, could not restrain himself and said boldly to the
emperor:
“Sire! if thou wilt not render justice to this traitor Ganelon, then
there be nothing left for us to do but to take up arms and secure
justice for ourselves.”
At these defiant words, spoken in a firm tone, a great hush fell on the
courtiers there assembled.
Griffon, who stood near the door, said in an undertone to a grizzled
captain of the guard:
“Oho! that’s a brave young cock—but watch and see his comb cut.”
Charlemagne’s brow darkened and his eyes flashed; he half rose and
thundered: “What!” cried he, “have you forgotten the obligations thou
art under to me? If it were not for thy father I should order for thee
the punishment you deserve. If I ever hear that another word from you
on this subject has escaped your lips you will have good cause to
regret the business.”
Maugis then saw that he had gone too far and hastened to offer his
excuses to the emperor, and Charlemagne finally, his anger passing,
invited them to dinner.
It was a trying moment and it was no ordinary man who could calmly face
the anger of the great emperor.
Griffon nudged his companion and whispered: “Seest thou that?”
The young knight was turning away somewhat abashed when casually
glancing at the ladies-in-waiting, a soft pair of blue eyes caught his
own, and forgetting instantly the exciting incident in which he had
just had a part, with a sudden thrill he recognized the lady of the
tournament, whose ribbon knot he even then wore next his heart and
whose face had never left him, either in his wakeful moments or in his
dreams.
Momentary as the glance was, he read in those beautiful orbs the
deepest sympathy, and the happy light that sprang into his own eyes
told the fair maiden more than even words could have done.
Momentary as the eye interview was before the modest gaze of the
beautiful girl fell before the ardent look of Maugis, there was one
who had seen it and understood. It had caused the bitterest feelings
of hatred and jealousy to surge in his black heart. That man was the
treacherous Ganelon, who lurked in the rear of a group of courtiers
while the exciting events just chronicled, that so nearly concerned
himself, were occurring.
He had in vain pressed his love upon the Princess Yolande, who
had not long before arrived from her home in the south to act as
lady-in-waiting on the empress. She had repulsed his unwelcome
attentions in every way her gentle nature would allow, but the coarse
and persistent villain would brook no rebuff.
Meanwhile the court had adjourned to the banquet hall, where these
unpleasant happenings were soon forgotten by all but a few of the
most concerned. After the emperor had arisen from the table and had
withdrawn at the conclusion of the banquet, Prince Berthelot, the
nephew of Charlemagne, wishing to show some courtesy to the Aymon
family, invited Maugis to a game of chess, a game much in vogue in
those days.
Maugis courteously accepted, and they assumed their seats at the
board while the courtiers gathered around to witness the game. Maugis,
however, had only accepted through politeness, because the affair of
the day had sadly depressed him.
After the game had progressed for a time, Maugis had made some wretched
mismoves that attracted the attention of those about.
Ganelon, who stood behind the prince, leaned forward and whispered in
his ear: “In good faith, my prince, thy guest doth seem to ill requite
thy courtesy, for while his hand is on the board his mind seems to be
elsewhere, and for him evidently thou dost not exist.”
A frown covered the brow of the prince, but he made no reply. At this
very moment Maugis made a woefully unpardonable and foolish move, and a
subdued titter ran around among the courtiers who stood about. That was
too much for the prince.
“How now, sir!” he exclaimed hotly, “thou art either an idiot or thou
doth seek to insult me.”
“I crave thy pardon,” replied Maugis, “I made the move while my
thoughts did wander and I assure thee I intended thee no discourtesy.”
“Seest thou not his mood?” hissed Ganelon in the ear of Berthelot. “He
is angered by the reproach of the emperor. Gads! he is in a temper to
insult the saints.” This had its effect.
“Sir Maugis!” cried Berthelot in anger, “thou tellest me in one breath
thou intendest no discourtesy and in the next breath thou dost insult
me by saying thy thoughts wandered, to suffer which is enough an
insult.”
“I pray thee pause in thy condemnation, my prince, and accept my
assurances,” said Maugis with great patience.
“Accept thy assurances forsooth!” exclaimed the now thoroughly angry
prince. “Get thee back to thy northern provinces and teach thyself good
manners before thou comest to court again.”
At this direct insult, Maugis, who had been able to contain himself
the entire day with some success, arose from the table, sweeping the
chessmen to the floor.
The now infuriated Berthelot then reached out and gave Maugis a
resounding slap in the face.
This was enough. Maugis seized the heavy chessboard, which was of gold,
and hurled it at the head of the prince with such force that the nephew
of Charlemagne sank expiring to the floor.
In an instant, repenting of what he had done, Maugis sprang forward and
tenderly supported the dying man, who said: “Thou hast done for me,
Maugis. I was the one on whom blame should rest—let it be known,” and
with these words he fell back dead.
These events were followed by the entry of Charlemagne, who, hearing
the loud voices and the noise, had hastened to learn the cause. He
understood instantly.
“What, ho! the guard!” he thundered, and then gave orders to prevent
the escape of the four sons of Aymon that he might wreak the most
bitter vengeance upon them.
The three brothers of Maugis, aided by Gerard and Nanteuil, who also
wished to escape, had meanwhile fought their way to the main door,
but Maugis, who had lingered too long over the body of Berthelot,
found himself faced by a line of gleaming swords in the hands of the
courtiers. His escape by that means was impossible, besides he was
unarmed.
Quickly seizing a heavy stool he smote down two courtiers who would
oppose him, ran to the exit leading to the empress’ apartments, laying
low the soldier who guarded that entrance, and fled down the corridor.
Without, as he fled, he could hear the beating of drums arousing the
guard and the hoarse commands of the officers. Ahead he could hear the
clang of mailed feet in the corridor approaching him, and behind came
his pursuers from the audience-chamber. He was in a desperate situation.
Suddenly a door opened in the corridor beside him, a white arm
protruded and seized his doublet, and almost before he knew he stood
behind the locked door of a chamber in the presence of the Princess
Yolande, who, pale as a lily, was leaning half-fainting against the
hangings nearby, while outside the pursuers, not perceiving him,
thundered past down the corridor.
“Princess,” he exclaimed, “you have saved me, and my life is yours.”
“No! no!” she gasped, pointing to the window. “They will soon return.
Go! go! spring through, that leads to the moat, swim that and you are
safe.”
Reverently kissing her hand, Maugis jumped to the window and leaped
out into the water below, just as heavy knocks shook the chamber
door—the palace was being searched for him. As he gained the other side
in safety he turned, and throwing a kiss to her as she stood in the
window, he disappeared down a narrow street nearby.
In the meantime his three brothers, with Gerard and Nanteuil, had
fought their way, sword in hand, from the palace, where they were
joined by Maugis, and the little company, well-nigh exhausted, lost no
time in taking the route for the Château d’Aymon, in the province of
Ardennes, northern France.
Charlemagne, furious at their escape, ordered every knight he could
find to mount and go in pursuit, sword in hand.
Meanwhile, the fugitives, of whom Maugis was the only one who had no
horse, soon perceived there was no possible chance to escape their
pursuers. The only thing to be done was to await their coming and face
them with firmness.
Fired by the ambition to be the first to capture Maugis and his
companions, each knight of that imperial company pressed his horse to
the utmost. A single knight, the most prompt, at last presented himself
before Maugis, who stood defiantly in the center of the road facing the
oncomers.
The moment of his approach, Maugis, giving him no time for preparation
for defense, ran him through with his sword. A second knight in the
meantime had come up only to be laid low with a stroke of his sword.
The main body was fast approaching, and finally a third knight,
outstripping the rest, approached, and becoming enraged at the sight of
the fate that had befallen his companions, hurled insulting epithets
at Maugis, who in turn, enraged, cast his lance at his enemy from the
distance of twenty paces with such unerring force and accuracy as to
lay him on the ground transfixed. This is how the third brother secured
a horse in that memorable fight.
Perceiving it would be useless to engage the numbers now coming upon
them, Maugis mounted upon the crupper of his horse, Bayard, behind
Renaud, and then they fled before their enemies, who were astounded at
their courage and activity.
They, however, continued the pursuit, but without result, and the
falling of night favored the fugitives in their escape from the
soldiers of Charlemagne. Thus, happily escaping, they proceeded on
their homeward journey with all the haste their horses could bear them.
The duchess received them and listened with sorrow to an account of
the danger which had encompassed them, and after allowing time for a
sufficient rest, she gave them some gold, advising them to leave as
soon as possible, for the good reason that their father, bound by his
oath of fidelity to Charlemagne, would be obliged to give them up, if
it should be demanded by the emperor.
Maugis accepted the advice of his mother. During the night he, followed
by his brothers, quietly left the château and disappeared in the
forests of the Ardennes, arriving after a time at the banks of the
river Meuse. They on the following day carefully examined the country
round about in order to find a favorable place in which to establish
works of defense, for they knew that Charlemagne would not rest content
until he had wreaked dire vengeance upon them, and that it would not be
long before their location would become known to him. They therefore
sought some inaccessible place of defense, and having made a selection
they proceeded to fortify it with all possible activity. They builded
a château fortress in a high and impregnable position, upon the summit
of a rock, and when complete, called it the “Château de Montfort.” The
river Meuse ran around the foot of the rock, forming a natural moat,
and rendering the place unassailable.
During this time, while the four sons of Aymon were thus preparing
themselves to escape the rage of Charlemagne, he, without caring for
the sorrow of their father, the Duke d’Aymon, for the crime his son
had committed, ordered the duke arrested; but when the duke condemned
his sons and expressed a willingness to make a new oath of fidelity,
agreeing to preserve a strict neutrality in the conflict between the
king and his sons, Charlemagne, who recognized he could get nothing
from him, sent him to his home, when upon his arrival the duchess
informed him that his sons were safe.
He also learned with pleasure of the strong position they had secured
to escape the rage of the emperor, but to baffle the suspicions of
Charlemagne, and to prevent himself from knowing what was passing, he
returned to the court under pretense that he wished to be near the
emperor that he might not be held responsible for the action of his
sons.
CHAPTER V.
The news of the construction of a redoubtable fortress was not long
in reaching the ears of the emperor. He was also advised that there
were others concerned in the construction besides Maugis and his four
brothers. This made Charlemagne all the more angry and vindictive. He
resolved to attack him on his own ground. He would combine the forces
of all the lords there were there present, besides all the knights
he could find, directing them in all haste to secure vengeance. He
promised to subdue Maugis, raze his fortress, and give up all the
surrounding country to fire and pillage.
Not all the lords present at the time were agreeable to this plan, but
having given their oaths of fidelity, had to submit to the consequences
of their promises. Ganelon finally proposed to pursue a middle course
in order to terminate the war without striking a blow, for Ganelon
liked not to fight. He proposed to negotiate an offer to Maugis to
yield up his three brothers and his cousin Renaud to the emperor,
hoping in his secret heart that would pave the way to the destruction
of Maugis afterward. This strange proposition seemed agreeable to
Charlemagne and he consented it should be made, charging the matter to
the Duke de Naimes, his confidant, and Oger.
These two knights, in due time, presented themselves to Maugis and
rendered their duty, though certain beforehand he would not consider
the subject a moment. They were not deceived.
Maugis received the message, but could not restrain his indignation at
the infamy of the proposal.
“What, my noble lords!” he cried, “wouldst have me deliver my brothers
and my cousin Renaud, because, however unwillingly, they have aided me.
No, a thousand times no,” he exclaimed. “It were far better to die,
sword in hand, than to purchase peace by such an act of cowardice.”
Maugis was furious, but later becoming calm, he invited the two to
visit his arsenal and view his means of defense. Said he to them
earnestly: “There is not a knight among my followers, nor an inhabitant
of this citadel, but who would prefer the most bloody death and to find
a grave under its ruins, rather than surrender Montfort to Charlemagne.”
De Naimes and Oger returned to Paris and repeated the words of Maugis
to the king, making no attempt to conceal their admiration for the
brave young man.
Charlemagne, on the contrary, flew into a violent rage and gave
orders to his army to prepare immediately for an assault on the
Château Montfort. And thus was commenced a lifetime of the most bitter
struggles, for the brave Maugis and his intrepid brothers. A doubly
bitter struggle for Maugis, from the importunity of his friends to
use his occult powers to relieve them when sore beset, but which he
conscientiously resisted because he feared it was an offense to God.
And bitterest of all was his love and longing for Yolande, from whom
such cruel fate separated him.
It was only a short time after this when the scouts of Maugis reported
the advance of the army, led by the emperor in person, and so he was
not taken off his guard when early one morning he watched from his high
position on the battlements of his fortress the glint of the sun on the
accouterments and arms of the besieging army surrounding his position
on the plain below.
He observed with interest, that to invest his château, Charlemagne
was obliged to very much spread out his forces, and resolved to take
advantage of it. Accordingly, when the time was most favorable, he
made a sortie with his soldiers from a gate invisible to the enemy and
threw himself on them with such great impetuosity that before they had
even time to resist the ground was strewn with the dead. He had become
master of the king’s camp and forthwith fired the tents, burning alike,
in the general conflagration, men and horses and all the supplies of
the king’s army.
[Illustration: CHÂTEAU MONTFORT.]
After this great success, Maugis rallied his troops and was about to
attack the army of the king, when at that very moment he came face to
face with a detachment headed by his father, the old Duke d’Aymon. To
fight his own father was impossible, therefore Maugis arrested his
movements.
On his part the duke prudently retired before the forces of his son,
but if his own life was safe, not so his soldiers. Maugis threw his
troops upon those of his father and those of the king accompanying him,
attacking them on all sides, successfully blocking all means of their
escape.
At this juncture Foulques de Morillon appeared. His presence in the
middle of the royal army reanimated the troops and they attacked
Maugis in their turn. Surprised at this sudden movement, Maugis rested
a moment in indecision. His soldiers had become massed together in
confusion. To retire was impossible. Alard, his brother, seeing the
dangerous position of Maugis from the château, took all the men that
could be spared and went to his assistance, rallied the fugitives and
joined the battalions of Maugis. These two then, at the head of their
army, attacked shoulder to shoulder, striking down all who resisted,
killing and wounding. Even before this unexpected succor came, Maugis
had charged into the _mêlée_ uttering his cry of war, which resounded
over the battlefield. Every stroke of his gigantic arm told. It was
death to be before him. Nothing could withstand the mad onward rush of
his great form.
It was but a few moments before Maugis stood behind a rampart of men
whom he had slain. In their endeavors to capture him alive the enemy
vainly tried to crush Maugis down with sheer force of numbers, but with
a rare courage and prudence he at last cut through them and rejoined
his brother, and then the two, supported by their soldiers, turned upon
the forces of the king with a renewed frenzy and wrought upon them a
fearful carnage.
The royal army becoming panic-stricken, fled through their burning
camp, and Richard, who pursued them, took a number of prisoners—the
rout was complete.
If the victory was a glorious one the pursuit must not be carried too
far, or in forgetting discretion, a few moments might lose all that had
been so dearly gained. This is why Maugis deemed it wise to stop and
rally his troops. He re-entered the château, his rear being guarded by
his three brothers.
The battle did not, however, pass without an extraordinary episode.
Of the army of the king only the old Duke d’Aymon was followed and
disturbed in his retreat. The four brothers, respecting his oath
of fidelity, followed him and sought to take him prisoner. Maugis,
finally becoming impatient at the barren result of the pursuit, placed
himself and his brother in front of the duke and sought to arrest his
progress by striking his horse over the head. But this did not stop the
escort, which came up and attacked the four brothers. They in their
turn returned the attack, and they would have been inevitably cut to
pieces had not Charlemagne, who had in the meantime come up and saw the
situation and lost in admiration of the bravery of Maugis, and with
that rare chivalry so characteristic of that great monarch, he raised
his voice and ordered the conflict to cease. Maugis stopped immediately
at the command of the king, and followed by his men and the prisoners
they had taken, retired into the fortress.
This notable victory made Maugis the master of an immense territory
over which he could roam at will and follow the chase. But Charlemagne,
infuriated by his defeat at the hands of this brave young warrior,
would not quit the place he had chosen for his camp. Maugis, who had
from time to time only a few skirmishes during the ensuing thirteen
months, spent a period, not altogether devoid of pleasure, except for
the haunting thought of the lovely face and sweet eyes of Yolande, and
chafed bitterly at the fate that kept him from her side. And what of
her? Did she ever think of him?
In the privacy of her chamber in the great palace at Paris, she shed
many bitter tears when she witnessed the departure of the army that was
going to destroy the man whom she loved above all else on earth. The
only comfort she knew was the absence of Ganelon, whose suit to her had
become persecution.
Since the day of the escape of Maugis by her aid, his attitude had
changed from odious fawning to sternness and threats. He alone knew of
the part she had played on that memorable day. He had read her secret
aright and had taunted her with it, and when goaded by his ceaseless
importunity, she had said, standing with flashing eyes, her glorious
figure drawn up: “Go, sirrah! Never darken my gaze again. I detest
thee as much as I love the man thou hatest, and I care not that thou
shouldst know it.”
“Foolish maiden! That sorcerer hath bewitched thee,” hissed Ganelon,
“but did all hell assemble to aid him, his fate is sealed. His doom is
sure. Then, obdurate maid, perchance thou wilt look upon me, who truly
loves thee.”
“Never!” cried Yolande as the villain’s form disappeared through the
door. She was yet to feel the evil that an evil man evilly disposed can
do.
As the days passed and no news came from the camp of the emperor, her
heart sank, and finally when the messenger came and the victory of
Maugis became known, her heart was lightened. Then a few days later a
travel-worn monk delivered into her hands a small packet. It contained
a ring and a slip of parchment on which was written:
“I have love for thee that will never die. Sleeping or waking
I think of thee only. Take this ring, shouldst thou ever be in
peril or need me, send it. It shall be a token for me to come that
nothing shall prevent. Pray thou to God that our separation may be
short.
+Maugis.+”
The maiden covered the token with kisses and hid it in her bosom.
Meanwhile, Charlemagne would have made another attack, but Naimes, more
prudent, advised him to await a more favorable opportunity. Then there
came to the emperor, sent by the crafty Ganelon, one who proposed that
he would agree to take the castle and the lords and soldiers therein,
provided he should be given the château and its territories as his
reward.
Charlemagne accepted the proposition and Hernier de la Seine, for that
was the man’s name, accompanied by Guyon de Bretagne, left the camp,
followed by some good soldiers. Hernier de la Seine hid Guyon and his
soldiers nearby and advanced alone to the château.
Under pretext of having quarreled with Charlemagne, whom he said had
driven him from camp, he had come to offer his sword to Maugis. This
lie, delivered with an air of candor, completely deceived Maugis, and
he freely promised him a place in the castle and that all his wants
should be satisfied.
When night came, Hernier, to reward Maugis for his good action, quietly
stole up on the sentinel guarding one of the gates and slew him, then
opened it for the entrance of Guyon and his soldiers. Quietly dividing
their forces into small detachments they advanced in good order to the
principal places. It seemed as if Maugis and his brave brothers were
lost, but the neighing of their horses in the stables awakened them and
a loud noise struck their ears without their being able to imagine the
true cause. In times of war, however, caution is paramount, and acting
on this thought all four arose and went out.
What they saw did not leave them deceived as to the gravity of their
situation. Guyon, now master of the place, guarded all the means of
exit. Other soldiers were engaged in setting fire to various places in
the fortress.
In such a lamentable position there was but one thing to do, that was
to seek to dominate events with courage and coolness.
The four brothers separated after a hasty consultation with some of
their men and each attacked the men guarding the points of issue. They
soon overcame the enemy, who were deprived of assistance from without.
In vain the traitors tried to escape. The four redoubtable brothers
opposed them irresistibly, until the gateways were encumbered with the
dead. Hernier and twelve others were all who escaped the carnage, and
were taken prisoners, and the men were hurled without pity from the
walls of the castle into the moat.
[Illustration: SURPRISE OF THE CASTLE.]
CHAPTER VI.
Maugis now perceived that their position was no longer tenable, as the
flames by this time had made great headway and everything around them
was doomed to destruction. He at once advised his brothers that it
would be best to gather the remainder of their garrison together and
that very night quietly vacate the fortress. When all had assembled,
Hernier de la Seine was brought out, and despite all his excuses and
abject protestations of devotion in the future, he was hurled from the
ramparts to accompany his twelve acolytes.
Having accomplished this act of justice the little band mounted their
horses and quietly rode away without trusting themselves one look
behind at the ruins of their poor castle. Maugis, above all, was
inconsolable, and but for the restraining words of his brother Alard,
would have at one time retraced his steps.
In the meantime the emperor awaited the result of the enterprise of
Hernier de la Seine with impatience, until two wounded soldiers, who
had escaped the massacre, arrived in camp and announced the disaster to
the royal troops.
The emperor, always very violent, could not receive such news without
flying into a fury. He could not regard such a check otherwise than as
a disgrace. He was even more disturbed at the escape of the fugitives,
but hoping to capture them he sent a corps of his army in pursuit.
Guichard was the first to receive the news of this movement from a
friendly peasant, and Maugis promptly combined the forces of the four,
and placing them in a favorable position, turned and suddenly fell
upon the pursuing army, having first placed their impedimenta and
non-combatants in charge of a few trusted men.
The suddenness of this unexpected attack completely demoralized the
enemy, who not being able to withstand the charge retreated. In spite
of the bravery of Charlemagne, who had arrived on the scene, his
soldiers fled for safety.
The king, wild with rage, rushed at Maugis and aimed a furious blow
at him, with all the force of his mighty arm, which Maugis skillfully
parried. Quick as lightning, Hughes, who saw the peril of the emperor,
threw himself between the combatants and fell mortally wounded under
the blow of Maugis that was intended for his chief.
“Forward!” shouted Charlemagne, and the pursuit of the four brothers
commenced anew, without the loss of any time.
The four young men, however, had profited by the stupor caused by the
peril to the emperor, and quickly assembling their men, fled once more,
pursued closely for twelve leagues. During this time Maugis performed
prodigies of valor by hovering in the rear of his command. Man after
man fell under his irresistible sword and he did not lose a soldier
during the entire running fight.
A swollen river was finally reached, and the emperor, exultant, now
thought the end had come. But even this did not stop the intrepid
brothers, for boldly plunging in they gained the other side in safety,
leaving their astonished enemy on the banks of the flood, convinced
this time that it was impossible to vanquish Maugis.
In face of this result in which he had met his match, and which
Charlemagne received with consternation, he abandoned the pursuit and
retraced his steps. Then, disbanding his army, he put off until some
other time the taking of his vengeance.
In passing the ruins of the Château de Montfort, he caused it to be
razed to the ground, tumbling the remaining walls into the moat and
placing it beyond all possibility of repair.
Maugis and his followers now traveled more tranquilly, when, at the
moment, supposing they were beyond all danger, they stumbled on the
troops of their father, the Duke d’Aymon, who, with other lords and
peers of the court, were proceeding to their homes. The duke, holding
his duty to his emperor above all others, summoned his sons to
surrender or to fight.
This the young men refused to do and begged their father to have a
regard for their position and not reduce them to the last extremities.
The duke, however, turned a deaf ear to the prayer of his sons and
ordered his troops to charge, himself riding at their head. The young
men, fearing to wound or kill their parent, were in a most desperate
place. Their men were falling all around them—so rapidly was their
force diminishing, that of five hundred troops they had at beginning of
the conflict only fifty now remained who were capable of fighting.
They must do something to relieve them of their terrible position.
Then it was that Maugis dismounted, and giving his horse, Bayard,
to Alard, who followed him closely, suddenly ran to his father, and
taking him by surprise, threw his muscular arms around him and held him
firmly, Alard having meanwhile struck down Hermanfroi, who would have
prevented them. During the delay this astonishing scene caused they had
traversed with their men a small river that was their last chance of
safety.
When he saw this movement was completed Maugis released his father,
after having begged his pardon, and throwing himself on his horse
behind the waiting Alard, gained the banks of the river in safety, and
was soon on the other side, despite all efforts to bar his passage.
The old duke at once returned to the emperor to acquaint him of his
defeat, but well pleased in his own heart that his sons should have
escaped.
The great Charlemagne well illustrated the contradictory aspects of his
character by his reception of the old duke as he himself possessed a
strong paternal feeling. Said he:
“By the beard of St. Anthony! an unnatural father art thou, who would
destroy his own children. Out of my presence! Come here no more with
falsehoods on thy lips hoping to obtain new favors.”
Honest, and the reverse of all this, the poor old duke bowed his head,
sighed, and departed for his château. There he recounted to his wife
what had occurred and the humiliation he had received. But Edwige,
instead of consoling him, reproached him bitterly for his actions.
“Thou need not,” she cried, “carry thy fidelity to the king to such a
point as to destroy thine own children.”
“I know, I see now!” sighed the poor old duke, holding out his arms to
the sorrowing mother as a sign of reconciliation.
“I promise thee faithfully never again will I do anything against the
interest of my sons,” he cried with tears in his eyes.
CHAPTER VII.
The four sons of Aymon, reduced to the last extremities, without
soldiers, or without any resources whatever, wandered in the forests of
the Ardennes, shelterless and hungry.
Maugis, finally, when their position became unsupportable, suggested
that the only thing left for them to do was to return to the château of
their father. Said he:
“Whether the sentiments of our father are just or not, what right have
we to doubt the devotion of our mother? Has she not always given to us
her love? Do not our own people love us? What is there then to fear?
Nothing! besides, the life we have been living for some time past has
so changed us I doubt if any one will know us.”
Besides the starvation and ruin that stared him in the face, the noble
soul of Maugis was sadly torn by concern for the position of Yolande,
his beloved one, in the court of Charlemagne. He had learned that she
was practically a hostage for the loyalty of her brother, King of Yon,
the ruler of a small principality in the south, though her position at
the court was as lady-in-waiting to the empress.
He knew the persecutions of Ganelon were well-nigh unbearable and that
she could not escape them by leaving the court.
He chafed at the fate that held him bound hand and foot, and longed
for the chance to rescue Yolande—how, he knew not. The case seemed
hopeless. Charlemagne, now thoroughly embittered, would pursue them to
the end, and what would that be?
While these sad reflections were passing through his mind, his brothers
had consulted among themselves and decided to follow his advice, and
the four waited patiently for night to fall, that they might take up
their route home.
They finally arrived in their own province the next day, after a long
and exhausting march, and at a moment when it was most favorable for
them to enter the château.
Their father was away hunting. Nobody recognized them. Their horses
having every appearance of hard usage, every one thought they had
returned from the wars in the holy land, and when they appeared at the
gates of the château they were opened to them willingly, for great
sanctity was attached to those who had been to the holy sepulcher, and
the blessing of God was supposed to rest upon all such.
They demanded to see the duchess.
On hearing of the arrival of the four knights she hastened to them, and
on beholding them so pale, worn and wasted, she could hardly control
her feelings.
“Welcome, sir knights!” cried she to them, not recognizing her sons;
“accept the hospitality I offer you with all my heart, and be assured I
shall do everything in my power to assist you.”
Maugis was choking with sobs, and tears were running from his eyes.
“Ah, my mother!” cried he, “why is it our father does not feel toward
us the way you do, and why is it that because we embraced a cause we
thought was right we have incurred disgrace?”
At these words the duchess recognized her son, thin and wasted as he
was, and his face concealed by a beard. She tottered toward him to
throw herself in his arms, but fell to the floor in a faint. The strain
had been too great.
Coming to herself soon, she embraced her sons and asked them how they
had escaped death.
Suddenly a great noise was heard outside. It was the Duke d’Aymon, who
had returned from the chase, and the duchess, having first hidden her
sons in an adjoining chamber, hastened to meet him.
When she met him she could not restrain her tears and he knew that she
had received news of her sons.
She recounted to him their terrible sufferings and the awful dangers to
which they had been exposed and how anxious they were to receive his
pardon.
The stern old duke was a prey to all sorts of emotions. On the one
hand his father’s heart would accord to his sons the pardon they asked
of him. On the other he feared the irritation the emperor would feel.
The burning of Montfort had made him fearful of the safety of his own
estates.
It was at this point of incertitude that the duchess, anxious to bring
the matter to a finish, startled him by bringing his sons before him,
who threw themselves at his feet and supplicated him for grace.
“My father!” cried Maugis, “if you only knew what misery your anger has
caused your children you would forgive them. What greater sorrow could
you cause them? Whom have we to trust in all this wide world but you?
We would never have willingly fought against Charlemagne if we could
have hoped for peace any other way.”
“Alas!” replied the duke, “do you think the emperor would ever consent
to accord peace to rebels? Never! The wrong you have already done has
caused me to rest under the suspicion of complicity with you which will
prevent me from affording you shelter.”
On hearing those stern words the duchess burst into tears. “Fear not,
dear children,” she cried, “your father loves you and his indecision
need cause you no uneasiness.”
“We would be very unwilling to cause our father any trouble,” said
Alard. “We will go away, perhaps we can find some stranger who will
not refuse us the assistance we cannot get from him.”
At this stinging reproach the duke could not restrain his tears.
“No, my children!” said he with a broken voice, “it is I who will go,
and you shall be left here with your mother. She will give you all the
attention you require and provide you with necessary means. I shall
ignore all these kindnesses to you, and you must guard it as a secret,
my meeting you at this time.”
He then descended to the courtyard, remounted his horse, and followed
by his suite, started out.
After the duke had gone the duchess embraced her sons, and assured
them of the good feelings of their father, that his only fear was the
displeasure of Charlemagne, who perhaps might compel him to remain near
him at Paris.
They also feared that the secret of their presence would be exposed at
any moment. The duchess conducted her sons to the chamber where the
arms of the duke were kept, and each of the brothers chose what he
needed. They took, at the same time, complete outfits of clothing and
armor, and made preparations to depart the following night.
Mainfroi, the son of the esquire of the duke, on whose devotion the
family could fully rely, was charged with all the arrangements. Maugis,
pleased with the ardor with which Mainfroi acquitted himself of these
duties, proposed to him to become his own esquire, which Mainfroi
accepted with joy. He undertook also to obtain three other esquires and
have them ready for the moment of departure, praying that the brothers
would confide all to him completely.
The next day Mainfroi, in the name of the duke, made a levy of one
hundred men and ordered them to report at Sedan within three days.
Each brother then received a large sum of money from the treasury of
the duke, their father.
In the dead of night the four brothers took tearful leave of their
sorrowing mother, mounted their horses, and silently departed out into
the world.
Once outside they met Mainfroi and the three esquires, and directing
their course to Sedan, were joined by the one hundred men-at-arms
arranged for them.
Thinking it prudent to go southward, they set out and had proceeded
as far as the village of Haraucourt, in the valley of the Emmenee, a
romantic place where the hills towered above on either side and shut in
the nestling village. They suddenly encountered their father returning
to the château, followed by three hundred men. The duke rode up to them
and said in low tones that he would not fight them, but that he must do
something to deceive the emperor, and that he designed to allow them
the three hundred men then with him as an addition to their force, De
Baudelot, the chief of the troops, being in the secret.
This preparatory interview having terminated, the duke feigned to
become very angry at his sons. He swore that he would exterminate them,
and ordered his soldiers to charge upon them. Commandant de Baudelot,
agreeable to the understanding between them, roared out: “Let not a man
move, or by Saint Gris I will cut him down to the saddle!”
The duke gazed frowningly upon the bronzed faces of his men, but not
one of them made motion to obey him—and then turning, apparently
furious, upon the immovable De Baudelot, he berated him roundly and
thereupon left, followed only by a few servitors, promising the
rebellious De Baudelot and his sons the most dire vengeance.
This stratagem was so well carried out that it deceived everybody,
and the duke, to make it more sure, when he returned to his palace,
spread the story, how his wayward sons, having secured entrance to the
château, hoping to gain his pity, had in a cowardly manner taken his
treasure and corrupted his soldiers.
To render the matter yet more plausible he even dispatched a messenger
to Charlemagne.
The emperor, however, who had several times condemned the conduct of
the duke to his sons, tacitly approved their conduct in this case.
In the meantime, the brothers continued their march onward, not having
quite decided upon their course. It was Maugis’ wish to get to Paris
and rescue Yolande, if possible; but unless strategy could be used,
it could not be accomplished with any means short of a large army.
Still the disquietude and anxiety of Maugis was so great as to nearly
overcome his prudence, and he was almost ready to march on Paris with
his small force.
So they continued onward; one day De Baudelot, having ridden ahead
to reconnoiter the road, was joined by the brothers. All at once the
quick eye of Maugis discerned the glint of arms on the road over a
neighboring hilltop in the morning sunshine, indicating that a large
force was approaching. Scouts were at once sent out, and soon the
joyful news was brought to them that Renaud, their cousin, son of the
unfortunate Duke d’Aigremont, was at the head of the approaching army.
When they met they were all much affected. After the first moments of
joy, Renaud explained to them that he had learned that Charlemagne had
raised a large army. For what purpose he knew not, but he, supposing
that a breach between the Duke d’Aymon and Charlemagne had been
followed by a reconciliation between the duke and his sons, and that
the consequences would be an attack from Charlemagne, had, on his part,
taken his father’s army and was on his way to offer his services to the
duke.
Maugis soon apprised Renaud of the real state of affairs, and Renaud
then swore he would accompany him wherever he might go, and that his
army and his sword would be at the disposal of his cousins.
Renaud then told Maugis that there was accompanying him a messenger
from the kingdom of Yon, whom he had overtaken, footsore and weary,
journeying on his way to the Château d’Aymon, bearing a message for
Maugis.
The traveler, immediately summoned, placed in the hands of Maugis a
silken-bound packet, which he opened with trembling hand, knowing well
it was news from Yolande.
The packet contained the ring and these words:
“Know thou by this token, which the saints grant may truly find
thy hand, that it is Yolande who doth send thee greeting. The foul
Ganelon did persecute and vex me sorely, and angered by my scorn
of him, did finally gain the ear of the king, and did me such ill
service with his majesty by telling him of the part I took in
thy escape from the palace, made more heinous by many and divers
deceits, prompted by his ungodly heart, until the king became
enraged with me, and the empress also did much disfavor and condemn
me, so that forthwith I was sent back to my brother’s kingdom in
disgrace. The emperor, because of my ill doing, hath frowned on
my brother, King Yon, and hath denied him support. And thou canst
haste thee to our succor, and if thou canst not and needst succor
thyself, come hither and we can at least die together. My prayers
do ever attend thee. The Saracens, from over the border in Spain,
do now lay siege to our capital and we are sore beset. May the
saints defend us.
+Yolande.+”
These simple words gave Maugis sore distress. He called his friends
together, and it was then and there decided to march forthwith to the
south of France and give succor to the kingdom of Yon.
At Sedan they organized their army by uniting their troops and marched
to Rheims. There they were stopped by meeting a force of three hundred
men, whom they prepared to fight. Maugis arrested the charge and went
forward to reconnoiter. Then he recognized them as some new troops
which had come to serve him.
After having marched some days they reached Poitiers, where they rested
for a time, drilling and equipping their troops, laying contributions
on the subjects of Charlemagne.
From here they marched in all haste to the frontiers of Spain, where
they learned more particularly that Yon, King of Acquitaine, had been
dethroned by Boulag Akasir, the renowned chief of the Saracens, had
fled to Bordeaux, and that now the infidel forces were about to besiege
that city, the last resort of King Yon and his court.
Tom with conflicting emotions at the danger which threatened Yolande,
Maugis ordered all haste to be made to the rescue of the unfortunate
prince, sending in advance four knights, hastening them forward to
offer the services of the oncoming forces. On their arrival they found
a great many other knights who had already come to offer their services.
The arrival of Maugis created a great sensation. His gigantic stature,
his noble air, won the attention and admiration of everybody. Tall
and stately, Yolande stood beside her brother, the king, amid that
brilliant assemblage, but her glance was freezing when it fell upon the
expectant Maugis. Her greeting was formal and cold and she averted her
face from him with a certain disdain.
Shocked, humbled and heart-stricken by this cruel treatment, the
mighty Maugis nearly lost self-control. As it was he stumbled back
to the little group of his friends, powerless to utter a word, and
bade Renaud, his cousin, to be spokesman to the king, which he did as
follows:
“Sire,” said Renaud, “we are five knights of high birth and we seek to
place our courage and our swords at the service of your majesty. That
our position may justify our words, we have come with seven hundred men
and we demand no other recompense for our devotion than to receive at
all times the protection of your majesty.”
“It pleases me much,” replied the king, “to receive thy service, brave
knights, and right gladly will I accept thy offer. Grant me thy names
that I may know to whom I am so deeply indebted.”
At the mention of the name of Maugis, he was startled. He had heard of
the brilliant exploits of that brave young man, which by that time had
become known throughout France.
He expressed his satisfaction at having him near him, and assured the
four brothers and their cousin of his protection. Said he: “If you
are miserable, I myself am nearly dethroned. I am likewise miserable,
therefore we will unite our fortunes. I will count on your courage and
you may count on my protection and friendship.”
CHAPTER VIII.
Boulag Akasir had by this time come to the environs of Bordeaux and was
threatening that city. He established his camp a short distance away,
his army consisting of twenty thousand troops, and feeling sure of
victory, commenced at once to devastate the suburbs.
These exciting events, while they in a measure diverted Maugis from
his perplexity and gloom by appealing to his warlike spirit, by no
means lightened the intense depression. The coldness of Yolande and
her inexplicable aversion and avoidance of him were maddening. Do what
he would, she would not meet him and a note that he addressed to her
demanding the reason of her strange conduct was returned to him with
the seal unbroken.
Had Maugis been less absorbed by the prospect of being united to
Yolande when he first entered the court of King Yon, he would have seen
among the entourage of the king an evil face that glanced at him in no
friendly way. It was that of a monk, who had but recently arrived from
the north, and whose great learning and piety had gained him almost
instant favor and an influential position in court. This friar, Anselm
Gorieux, was the uncle of the perfidious Ganelon, who was inspired by
bitter hatred and jealousy of Maugis. This monk hated Maugis, as well
on his own account, because in a conflict at wit with Maugis, at a
banquet, the latter had turned the laugh against him and caused his
proud soul to chafe under the humiliation, and to resolve upon the
direst revenge. He had purposely come to the court of King Yon, in the
interest of his nephew, urged by him to seek the ear of Yolande and
prejudice Maugis, persistently hoping that with his rival dethroned
from her favor his own chances might improve, and that he yet might be
able to win her.
The crafty monk found little difficulty in gaining the confidence of
Yolande, to whose fervent religious nature his great piety, humility
and learning at once appealed.
Cautiously, so as not to alarm his timid prey, he held much discourse
with her upon the awful power of the evil one; how he possessed himself
of the souls of those who were willing to barter them for worldly gain.
Then he held up to her, casually, Maugis as such a one; told her that
even an emissary of Satan had abode under his father’s roof, and under
the guise of a learned man of the east had taught the young man the
worst of black arts and sorceries.
The monk told her Maugis had been won over to Satan, had become a
sorcerer, and a practicer of all the foul arts. He showed her how
the great exploits that had made him the hero of the day were simply
manifestations of the evil one to whom he had sold his soul; that his
time of glory was brief, and he, and all who loved him, would finally
rest under the curse of God.
Yolande, as she slowly comprehended these dreadful revelations, was
grief-stricken and dismayed. Her idol was shattered, and although she
concealed the anguish that consumed her heart, she nearly sobbed her
reason away in the quiet of her chamber.
The surprise of Friar Anselm was indeed great at the unexpected
presence of Maugis at the court. He had not looked for this and would
have certainly devoted himself to prejudicing the king also, only the
exciting events then occurring gave him no opportunity.
Meanwhile a force of the Saracens was devastating the suburbs of
Bordeaux, and the alarm caused by this movement spread quickly.
Maugis, to observe for himself the operations, mounted the walls, and
his trained eye saw at once it was only a small part of the main army
of the enemy who were making the attack. He then advised his brothers
and his cousin Renaud to arm and place themselves in readiness at the
head of their men. Arming himself also he hastened to the king.
He gave King Yon the assurance that the advance guard of the enemy
would be destroyed, and having accomplished that he would attack the
main army, he and his brothers, and that they would drive him from the
field. He recommended the king to hold himself in readiness to come to
their succor if it should be required. As he left the royal presence he
cast one look at Yolande, who stood there pale and proud, but who only
gazed upon him coldly. He little knew that within, and beneath that
forbidding exterior, her gentle heart was surging with love and pity
for him.
A sad heart makes some men more determined, and it was this feeling
that possessed Maugis as he hastened to place himself at the head of
the attacking party.
When he saw the forces of Maugis emerge from the gate of Bordeaux,
Boulag Akasir advanced promptly to meet him. His unvarying successes
had made him arrogant and over-confident, and when he perceived this
small army of King Yon he hoped to capture it. But he counted without
Maugis, who, cool and calm, disposed his troops skillfully and quietly
encouraged his men both by voice and gesture.
At a given signal the troops of Maugis charged upon the enemy with
great vigor, and they being accustomed to conduct just the reverse
from their opponents, stopped, struck with stupor. Boulag Akasir, who
saw at once that it was their chief who had infused that small army
with so much ardor, rushed upon Maugis to fell him, but the latter
skillfully parried the awful blow, which instead laid low a knight of
Bordeaux. Alard, in his turn, attacked the Saracen, but that celebrated
warrior seemed to bear a charmed life and evaded with amazing dexterity
the furious blows aimed at him.
The battle then became general all along the line. The brothers Aymon
were everywhere, and each performed prodigious deeds of valor.
Yolande, breathless with anxiety and almost fainting, witnessed the
bravery of Maugis from the walls, and in her inmost heart could not
believe that such great actions could be inspired by the evil one.
It was now King Yon, who, until this time had remained a spectator,
could no longer resist action, and giving his war-cry, rushed at the
head of his troops to the side of Maugis, and hurled himself upon
the Saracens, taking them completely by surprise. But they resisted
desperately, as Saracens always do, because their religion would never
permit them to fly, and who would stand and even submit to have their
throats cut rather than retreat.
Boulag, seeing his army diminishing every minute, and wishing to
preserve his soldiers for another battle under more favorable auspices,
gave the signal to retreat. But that order was contrary to the law of
Mohammed and his troops executed it very unwillingly.
During this period of hesitation, Maugis, supported by his Cousin
Renaud and his brothers, were creating havoc in the ranks of the
confused enemy, until, finally, becoming panic-stricken, the Saracens
took to flight.
Boulag himself turned his back and fled, with Maugis in pursuit.
The chief of the Saracens was mounted on an Arab horse of great speed,
and Bayard, the magnificent horse of Maugis, had great difficulty in
keeping up with him. But he persistently followed until the chase had
kept up for three hours, and fully thirty miles had been covered at
this terrific pace. The blood of Maugis was up and it was a pursuit of
life and death.
In the meantime every one thought that Maugis was lost. They searched
for him everywhere, but he could not be found. They gave him up for
dead and the whole army uttered cries of sorrow and despair. The three
brothers of Maugis were inconsolable. Supported by her maidens, Yolande
was removed, half-fainting to her chamber. It was in vain King Yon
tried to reassure the brothers.
Renaud, however, who never despaired, assembled two hundred soldiers,
and accompanied by the king and the three brothers, followed in the
tracks of the pursuer and pursued.
[Illustration: OLD SPANISH HOUSES.]
Meanwhile, Maugis had caught up with Boulag Akasir, who, trembling at
the persistence of the pursuit, and infuriated withal, saw that he
could not escape defending himself, and suddenly turned and struck at
Maugis with his lance. Quick as the movement was, Maugis luckily saw
it and with consummate skill parried the blow with such force that the
weapon of Boulag was shivered in pieces over his shield. Profiting
by the momentary stupefaction of his enemy, Maugis felled the horse
of the Saracen to the ground, stunned by a blow of his sword. Boulag
was himself stunned, but quickly arose to his feet and faced Maugis.
He, however, with true chivalry, would not take advantage of his
position, but descended from his own horse to do battle with him on
equal footing, even courteously waiting for his opponent to recover his
breath.
Then there commenced a terrible conflict, a duel to the death, in which
the furious strokes and parryings followed each other with lightning
rapidity. But the brave Boulag finally fell to the earth sore wounded.
In an instant Maugis was upon him and was about to give him a finishing
stroke, when Boulag cried: “Grace! I pray thee!”
“Dog of an infidel,” replied Maugis, “thou doest well to crave mercy,
thou who hast never given!”
“Sir knight,” pleaded Boulag, “I will give thee anything thou mayst ask
of me, so long as my life be spared.”
“No!” answered Maugis, “I will take nothing from thee, but thou art
brave and I will accord thee life only on one condition. That is that
you abjure thy religion of Mohammed and become converted to mine.”
“I accept thy terms,” cried Boulag, “the more willing because I never
have been a firm believer in Mohammed.”
Then regaining his feet he tendered his sword to Maugis, but Maugis
generously refused to take it from him.
They then mounted horse and set out for Bordeaux. Maugis, with his
prisoner, giving thanks that he had been able to exterminate the army
of the Saracens.
Thus the conqueror and the conquered were quietly pursuing their way
to the city, whiling the time in conversation on religion and other
topics, when they were met unexpectedly by King Yon and his suite.
Thereupon there was a most happy meeting between Maugis, his three
brothers and his Cousin Renaud.
“Sire,” then said Maugis, “I deliver up to thee Boulag Akasir, who
has delivered himself into my hands and hath abjured his religion to
be henceforth a Christian. I pray thee grant him all the regard due a
brave knight.”
“Brave knight!” exclaimed the king to Maugis, “I should ill, indeed,
requite thee, savior of my kingdom, did I other than thou desirest
with this mighty warrior. So be it. He shall be presented to our court
with a dignity becoming his rank, and the past shall be forgotten.”
In the excess of his gratitude. King Yon further insisted on dividing
his kingdom into three parts. One to be given Maugis, one to the three
brothers and Renaud, and the remaining portion to the army.
Maugis would not hear of this and was inflexible in his refusal to
accept.
King Yon was much disconcerted by the declination of Maugis to accept
any reward, and casting about in his mind for some delicate way to
reward him for his inestimable services, the thought came of offering
him the hand of his beautiful sister. He could think of no greater
way of showing his regard, but at the time he remained silent on the
subject.
Boulag, having in due form been made a Christian, was longing ardently
to return to his native land. He appealed to the tender-hearted Yolande
to secure him this boon. She willingly undertook to do so, and pleaded
his cause so earnestly with the king that the request was granted,
provided he paid to Maugis a ransom; the king courteously pretending to
conduct the negotiations in the name of Maugis. The king, agreeable to
the proposition of Boulag himself, fixed the ransom at six mule-loads
of gold and that he also abandon Toulouse, and the country thereabouts.
Having thus been freed, Boulag, accompanied by some faithful servitors,
departed for his own land.
Yon, who had now become richer and more powerful than ever, tried to
induce Maugis to accept entire the ransom of Boulag, but he again
refused, praying the king to reserve his bounty until the day came when
he should demand his services.
That day was very soon in presenting itself.
The war being concluded, and Boulag having departed with his followers
from the territories of King Yon, there remained little for Maugis, his
three brothers and Renaud to do, but ride about the country and pursue
the chase.
One day Maugis, followed by his companions, were riding out when a view
burst upon their eyes that caused them, as if moved by one impulse,
to stop. They were riding on the banks of the Dordogne. The eyes of
Maugis were fixed upon a mountain on the other side of the river which,
surrounded by beautiful plains, rose high into the blue sky. Easy of
access, while perfect for defense, its top presented a fine level
surface upon which to build.
This site suggested to Maugis an idea he had long entertained. Said he:
“Montfort no longer exists, but we can easily replace it if we choose.
Here is a situation which combines all the necessary conditions of
impregnability, and here we could brave the anger of Charlemagne.”
His companions being equally impressed in favor of this idea, the five
gave the place a most careful examination, and on their return to the
court they sought the royal presence, and Maugis said: “Sire, we are
homeless and would make for ourselves an abiding place. We have found
a certain mountain near the river Dordogne, on which we could build a
château, if we have thy royal favor.”
King Yon, anxious to reward the great services of the brave knights,
was about to give his consent when the crafty monk, Gorieux, stepped to
his side and whispered in his ear:
“Sire! I pray thee have a care. Dost want the wrath of Charlemagne to
descend on thee, then harbor these outlaws, for such they be, and no
sooner shall the emperor learn that thou hast housed them and enriched
them than thy peace, and perhaps thy life, will be jeopardized.”
At these words the king only frowned and replied: “Dost suppose the
fear of any such consequences will deter me from rewarding these brave
men who have saved me my kingdom and my very life?” and turning to
the five knights he not only gave them the mountain, but besides,
authorized them to construct a château upon it, and gave them likewise
all the land that surrounded it.
Such a great favor as this did not fail to create jealousy among
certain of his courtiers. One of his peers, who was in love with the
beautiful Yolande, and who had been jealous of Maugis ever since
his arrival, could not support the idea of this being carried out
without an attempt to discourage the king from making a false move. He
therefore remarked:
“Sire! without doubt these brave knights are masters of the situation,
but is it wise or for thy well being to support and nourish a foreign
force at thy door, whom chance might make thy master, or is it wise to
support these men in all their exigencies? Reward them well and suffer
them to depart.”
The king, however, was not to be moved, and appealing to Maugis, said:
“Sir knight! if I grant thee this favor it would be well we should know
what to expect from thee on thy part, for in so doing I put myself at
thy mercy in a certain sense, but,” continued the king, “I have every
confidence and I believe you will never abuse it.”
In reply the five knights kneeled before the king, kissed his hand and
then swore eternal fidelity.
The brothers and Maugis were not long in commencing the work and the
fortress was rapidly constructed. The fortifications were made truly
formidable, and the mountain bestrewn with heavy walls and towers to
protect the principal works, which in due time were finished.
Maugis and Renaud prayed that King Yon would come and baptize the
new fortress, an invitation which he courteously accepted, and the
imposing ceremonies were attended by all the court. Maugis, however,
observed with a sad heart the absence of Yolande. His mind was torn
with various doubts and conjectures to account for the strange conduct
of the princess, and he resolved at the first opportunity to seek an
interview and demand an explanation.
The fortress was named Montaubon, and Maugis then sent to all the
surrounding country and caused to be published an edict of the king,
that whosoever would take service under Maugis in the new city would be
granted six years freedom.[1]
[Footnote 1: In those feudal days the common people were in a condition
of serfdom, little better than slavery.]
This had the effect of rapidly filling the new city with inhabitants,
and soon Maugis, Renaud and the three brothers took possession of their
new domain.
Meanwhile the complaints of the discontented courtiers grew louder
and deeper, and rumors of the alliance of Maugis with the evil one,
cautiously spread by the crafty monk, flew from lip to lip, until
reaching the ears of Maugis, caused him to become aware of the
seriousness of the position and the impending liability of his falling
under the displeasure of the king. Active steps must at once be taken,
and he, who had never a thought of breaking his oath, at once renewed
his oath of fidelity.
The council of state was convened when he presented himself, and he
took the occasion to face his accusers and demand of the discontented
to formulate their complaints to his face, and that he would
satisfactorily explain anything that could be offered.
Then spoke Adelbert Leon de Bayonne: “Sire!” said he, “it doubtless be
true this knight hast rendered thee great service and it is fitting
thou should reward him, but thou art not called upon to abandon all
caution and deliver thyself into his power. He is now installed in a
strong fortress, and with a powerful army in the midst of thy kingdom
thou hast placed him in a position of power over thee.”
“And what else be there to my disfavor?” demanded Maugis.
“Sire!” said Gorieux, the monk, “there is much reason for believing
this knight hath given himself into the service of the evil one. It
is well known that he, in his tender youth, hath been in the power of
a learned magician of the East, a worker of evil, a follower of the
evil arts, a minion of Satan, who hath instilled into him much magical
knowledge, and hath persuaded him to give his soul up to Satan.”
A dark frown overspread the face of Maugis at these words, but he
controlled himself.
“Are there others who would accuse me?” he demanded, fixing his stern
gaze on the assembled courtiers.
Silence was the only reply, and stepping forward, Maugis said
impressively: “Sire! if it be true that I am in the service of Satan,
how ill hath he requited me? I am persecuted by the emperor, attacked,
pursued, hunted and banished from my home. It is true, a learned pundit
from the East, a good and holy man, though his beliefs were not our
beliefs, was my tutor. It is true he taught me much of occult things,
but only relating to the laws of nature, which are as an open book to
the wise of the Orient. It is true that this knowledge of the mysteries
of nature, when I seek to direct them to my use, would give me certain
powers over men, and it is true that this noble, wise man died blessing
those who had saved him from death and counseling me ever to be true to
my faith and my honor. Callest thou this noble philosopher a minion of
evil? Can any man say here aught but that in battle I have relied on
any occult aid other than this good sword and my strong arm? Or, if I
be a follower of the evil one, why should I seek to make Boulag Akasir
a Christian?”
These brave and candid words made a deep impression on the council.
“More, sire!” continued Maugis, “I stand now ready to swear my fealty
to my God and his saints and to never henceforth on any occasion seek
to use my occult powers; to utterly abandon and to never recall them.
As to my fidelity to your majesty, my brothers and myself have given
our word, and you all know we are incapable of breaking it. If thou
knowest of any other means whereby we can reassure you, be pleased to
indicate them and we will accept them.”
The fairness, the candor, and the noble bearing of Maugis convinced the
king of his sincerity, and even those who hated the brave knight were
conquered though not changed.
The council then broke up, the king retiring with Godefroy de Moulin,
his counselor, promising to consider the matter and soon give his
decision.
CHAPTER IX.
The scheming Abbé Gorieux, thinking to complete the alienation which he
had successfully commenced between Maugis and Yolande, conceived the
idea that if Yolande could witness the proceedings of the council she
would herself be convinced of the perfidy of Maugis, and seeing his
discomfiture and downfall would wholly dismiss him from her heart, and
thus pave the way anew for the suit of his nephew, Ganelon. The crafty
priest knew that the princess possessed great riches. It was a stake
well worth striving for.
He easily obtained the consent of the princess to this plan, for much
as she had doubted him, and much as she had heard to his prejudice,
down in her heart she still loved Maugis and still believed him
innocent of the charges.
Accordingly, from behind the hangings of the council chamber, unseen
by any one, Yolande had witnessed the events related in the preceding
chapter, and when the meeting broke up she fled along the corridors to
her chamber with light foot and light heart.
“He is true to his God,” she said to herself. “I knew it and I love
him.” Then the thought of her cold and unkind treatment and avoidance
of him presented itself to her mind, and, seized with doubt as to
whether he would longer love her, she, in a revulsion of feeling,
threw herself on a couch and wept bitterly. At last the work of the
treacherous priest had been overthrown and defeated.
In the meantime the king had counseled with his advisers and Maugis
had been summoned to again appear before him. The king was visibly
embarrassed when he thus addressed him:
“Brave knight!” said he, “inasmuch as you have expressed your
willingness to take any means to reassure those of my court who seem to
profess doubt, I have two conditions to impose—take note of my desire
that you will gladly accept them. One is that thou shalt make oath of
thy fealty to God and the saints and forever promise to abandon occult
things; the other: you well know that my sister Yolande is beautiful
and that she will bring great dower to him whom she weds. You know well
how gladly each one here would possess her. Accept her then as your
wife. I am already under deep obligations to you, and to make sure our
friendship I seek thus to ally thee to our family. Become my brother,
and I suppose then those of my subjects who have manifested fears will
be not only completely reassured, but more so than ever, in that thou
wilt possess such a precious gage of happiness and security.”
This decision fell like a thunderbolt on the conspirators, who had
hoped the downfall of Maugis. The priest Gorieux paled and clinched
his hands until the nails penetrated the flesh. Why had he permitted
Yolande to witness the scene, he asked himself; but for that there
might yet be hope. It was a fatal error.
As for Maugis, the words of the king fairly stunned him. He had come
there solely to vindicate himself, and little thought the turn of
events would bring him his heart’s desire. At first his heart leaped
for joy when he fairly understood his happiness, but alas! only to be
shadowed by sadness when the aversion that Yolande had suddenly shown
for him came to his mind.
“Sire!” said he sadly, when he had recovered his self-possession,
“right gladly will I fulfill the first condition and thy second one
confers upon me such honor, confidence and happiness that a lifetime of
devotion from me could not repay. But, your majesty, I cannot consent
unless thy sister doth approve of thy suggestion,” said he earnestly
and proudly. “I never would be willing to impose myself upon a woman in
this fashion simply because reasons of state forced her to accept me as
her husband.”
At these words the king arose, terminating the audience, requesting
Maugis to come at the same time the next day.
Then the king hastened to the apartments of his sister, feeling some
uneasiness.
“Yolande,” said he, “thou knowest well thou hast been sought in
marriage by all the best men of my kingdom, and by many foreign
princes. Thou hast ever held thy heart free and have had thy will in
refusing all who have wooed thee, but the time has come for thee to
choose thy mate in life, and having thy welfare in our mind, we have
picked for thee a right gallant and comely man whose valor will do thee
honor and protect thee.”
“How now, good brother!” exclaimed Yolande, alarmed at the solemnity of
the king. “To whom dost thou propose to sell me?”
“I desire thou shalt wed Maugis,” replied the king.
“And did Maugis send thee hither to plead his suit?” haughtily replied
Yolande, all her pride aroused.
“Nay, but—” replied the king.
“Then get thee hence, sire, with thy Maugis!” interrupted the princess,
flying into a passion. “Thinkest thou that I am merchandise to be
bartered for strength to thy kingdom, or a slave to be sold to pay thy
obligations? Not so, royal brother. I tell thee now, once for all, the
air of a nunnery will please my health far better than a husband who
binds me to him as a hostage. I would be alone, go!” she cried.
The perplexed monarch was leaving the apartments of his sister when he
encountered the Duchess de Bearne, a worldly-wise, shrewd, and good
woman, who had been as a mother to the orphaned princess.
He confided to her his perplexity between the pride of the two lovers.
“Sire!” laughed the duchess, “little doth thou understand a woman’s
heart. Why didst thou not suffer Maugis to plead his own cause? But
rest thee. Leave them to me, I will see they meet on the morrow.”
Accordingly, the next day Maugis was summoned to the palace and the
servitor who admitted him at the great gate pointed him to the private
garden of the royal household, indicating that he was to go in there.
Maugis, little suspecting what was in store for him, strolled down the
shady pathway, expecting every moment to meet the king.
Meanwhile, the envy, hatred and malice of the treacherous Abbé Gorieux
and some of the courtiers had only been intensified by the turn events
had taken in favor of Maugis. They all agreed that he had become so
dangerous that desperate measures must be taken to remove him, and they
secretly plotted to take his life.
The opportunity was soon to come. It happened that one of them heard
the Duchess de Bearne give orders to show Maugis into the royal garden
when he came the next day and, acting on this hint, the conspirators
resolved to execute their foul deed. Six of them would waylay Maugis,
slay him, and escape amid the shrubbery.
The unsuspecting Maugis penetrated deeper into the shady depths of the
garden, and as he passed a clump of bushes a strong arm holding aloft
a sword hung over his head and then descended with crushing force upon
him.
Luckily, the slight noise made by the action caught his quick ear and
in turning his head to one side he escaped the full force of the blow,
which, however, caused him to fall to the earth stunned and bleeding.
In an instant they were upon him, but as quickly recovering himself, he
scrambled to his feet and drawing his trusty blade soon laid two of his
assailants low, but half-fainting from the loss of blood he was being
sore pressed and would have succumbed to the odds against him, when the
shouts of the approaching royal guards, who had been aroused by the
noise, caused the assassins to become panic-stricken and fly, while
Maugis sank fainting to the earth.
When he next opened his eyes he was gazing into the blue depths of
Yolande’s and felt her hot tears on his face. His head was pillowed on
her breast.
“Oh, loved one,” he murmured as he drew her face down to his and a
long silent kiss sealed their reconciliation.
The good duchess discreetly withdrew and they were left alone in the
deep shadows of the foliage.
The next day the council was reconvened and the king announced the
coming marriage of his sister to Maugis and everybody felicitated
the _fiancées_; a few days after the wedding was celebrated with
great splendor, with _fêtes_ and tournaments at which Maugis, who had
quickly recovered from his wounds, and his brothers D’Aymon, greatly
distinguished themselves by their feats at arms.
It was not long before Charlemagne was apprised of the exploits of
Maugis and his brothers, through the Abbé Gorieux and Ganelon, and the
emperor emphatically testified his displeasure to his courtiers at the
way the young men were braving him.
He had never, for one moment, abandoned his idea of vengeance, and
forthwith resolved to send Oger and Naimes, his two confidants, to the
King of Acquitaine to signify to him that he must deliver the sons
D’Aymon into his hands with their cousin Renaud, or suffer the effects
of his anger.
Arriving at the court of Yon, Oger and Naimes, being duly presented,
spoke in these terms:
“Sire! Charlemagne knows well that you have given hospitality to the
four sons D’Aymon and their cousin, and more, you have permitted the
erection by them of a fortress in the middle of your kingdom, though
by so doing you have perhaps not intended a blow to the interests of
your master.”
“That is true,” replied King Yon.
“Charlemagne will overlook it,” continued the Duke de Naimes, “but you
must not afford shelter and support against his anger to men of whose
crimes you probably are not familiar. Not only have they revolted
against their king, but Maugis is the nephew of the Duke d’Aigremont,
who murdered the son of Charlemagne, and is also the assassin of
Berthelot, the nephew of the emperor.”
“Noble knights!” replied King Yon, “I am exceedingly anxious to
maintain friendly relations with the emperor, but I cannot buy peace by
an act of perfidy. I would use all possible means to secure a sincere
reconciliation between the sons D’Aymon and the emperor. I would feel
satisfied could I arrive at that result.”
“This then is thy answer?” demanded Oger.
“It is,” responded King Yon.
“Then be warned,” thundered Naimes, “thy conditions are refused, and
unless thou wilt comply with the demands of thy emperor, bitter war
will cause thee to feel the wrath of Charlemagne.”
Oger and Naimes at once left the court, and returning to Charlemagne,
rendered him an account of their mission.
The emperor, as usual, flew into a violent rage and would have had his
army on the march within twenty-four hours, but his counsellors called
his attention to the fact that Maugis had now gained great prestige,
which would have a marked effect on the soldiers sent to fight him,
and that to attack Montaubon would be futile, when they had already
been unable to subdue Montfort. But Ganelon and his friends sided with
the emperor and encouraged his determination by all the means in their
power.
Charlemagne was inflexible and insisted upon war with the King of
Acquitaine and his allies.
It was at this point the audience of the king was interrupted by a
great noise and commotion outside, caused by the arrival of a stranger
and his suite. He was a young man of great personal beauty, and the
rich raiment he wore could not conceal the manhood of a true knight.
His suite were numerous and were dressed with equal richness, all
indicating that he was of princely birth. Everybody made way for him
when he appeared to present himself before the emperor.
“Sire!” said he, “I am Roland, the son of Milon and of your sister. I
have come to place myself at your service. Therefore deign to accept me
and your majesty will ever find me a faithful and loyal servitor.”
Charlemagne could hardly conceal his joy, because he thought at last he
had secured a knight who could equal the prowess of Maugis.
Some days later Charlemagne armed his nephew and knighted him
with great pomp and ceremony, giving _fêtes_ and tournaments more
extraordinary than usual in honor of the event. It was at tournaments
in those days that the knights exhibited their power and skill, and
this occasion gave Roland the opportunity to display a force and
address that seemed irresistible, and gave color to the hope of the
emperor that he had finally discovered a knight who could match Maugis,
who now bore the reputation of being the foremost warrior in France, a
hope which subsequent events, as we shall see, fully justified.
That tried, skilled and experienced knight, Oger, to satisfy himself
of the courage and endurance of the young knight, entered the tourney
against him, and for a time he was able to make a gallant fight; but he
was finally forced to declare himself conquered by his young adversary,
and thereupon Roland was, amid great acclaim, crowned the first knight
of the court.[2]
[Footnote 2: History tells us that not only was Roland renowned for
his prowess as a warrior, but his beauty of person and grace of manner
charmed the emperor and the entire court, and further, not only was he
a favorite with the ladies, but later became the idol of the people as
well.—G.]
So the days devoted to pleasure succeeded each other without
interruption, when all at once the startling news came of an invasion
of the Saracens from the north. They were advancing along theRhine,
killing, burning and destroying all in their path. Charlemagne
determined to send Roland to meet the infidels, giving him twenty
thousand men, ordering him to go at once, and sternly adding not to
return unless victorious.
[Illustration: MAUGIS.]
By means of forced marches Roland came upon the Saracens so suddenly as
to take them completely by surprise. They, on seeing the royal troops,
flew to arms, but Roland, not giving them time to recover from the
surprise, threw his army upon them with great impetuosity and cut them
to pieces.
Oger and Roland then followed the flying enemy in close pursuit, they
having divided, one part crossing the Rhine, was followed by Roland,
who caught up with them. Almonasar, king of the infidels, was made
prisoner, and begged Roland to spare him and those with him.
The nephew of Charlemagne, granting them quarter, they laid down their
arms and he marched them in return to the point where Roland had parted
from Oger, whom he met, followed by a large number of prisoners he had
also captured, all of whom were bound and placed in charge of the Duke
de Naimes. To save his life, Almonasar abjured the Mohammed faith.
Roland next proceeded to Cologne, where he reestablished order and
repaired the damage done by the Saracens, and later sojourned to the
court of Paris with his prisoner. There his glory and renown was much
enhanced by the mercy he showed Almonasar, for Roland, generous as the
brave always are, accorded him his liberty with the approval of the
emperor and sent him to his own country, he first having made oath of
fidelity.
CHAPTER X.
When Charlemagne had a project in his mind, and particularly a project
of vengeance, he never abandoned it. And now being disembarrassed of
the Saracens, he lent a willing ear to the urgings of Ganelon and his
friends, to go to the punishment of the King of Acquitaine, for his
refusal to yield up the brave Maugis and the sons D’Aymon.
Ganelon, in his infatuation, still harbored the idea of destroying
Maugis and gaining possession of the lovely Yolande. In those old days
might was right and the perfidious courtier easily found those who,
through envy, malice or hatred, would aid him in his infamous schemes.
The emperor summoned his counsellors and laid his plans before them.
Roland, elated by his first victory, proposed to invest Montaubon and
punish the rebellious young knights. Therefore orders were issued for
the assemblage of all the soldiers the kingdom contained at Paris, the
following April.
At the designated time there duly arrived the principal lords of the
realm, followed by numerous troops. Solomon de Bretagne with all the
nobility of his domain, Dizier d’Espagne with six thousand soldiers,
Bertrand d’Allemagne with two thousand men, Richard de Normandie with a
crowd of knights assembled from all parts to take part in the war. And
then, the Archbishop Turpin arrived at the head of a choice troop. All
these small armies united gave a total of one hundred thousand men, who
were placed under the immediate command of Roland.
Charlemagne, to show the great confidence he felt in him, himself
contributed thirty thousand men, raised by an extraordinary levy, and
on the day of departure, at the very moment that Roland mounted his
horse, Charlemagne confided to his hands the keeping of his royal
banner.
It truly seemed as if these formidable preparations insured the doom
of the gallant Maugis, who now was enjoying every moment of his
blissful honeymoon with his beautiful bride, all unconscious in his
great happiness of the awful cloud that hung so threateningly over his
future; he little dreaming of the dreadful tribulations cruel fate had
yet in store for him.
It was not long before his dream of love had a rude awakening. The
approach of the great army was duly heralded, and a few days after had
arrived before the fortress of Montaubon. Roland would have made an
immediate assault, but Charlemagne in his wider experience deemed it
better to give the troops needed rest and at the same time employ the
time in an endeavor to effect some arrangement.
[Illustration: CHARLEMAGNE AT THE HEAD OF HIS ARMY.]
He sent to Maugis a knight with a flag of truce indicating a desire
for a parley, who, shortly after he appeared before the gates of the
castle, was admitted to the presence of Maugis.
“Sir knight!” said the envoy, “I appear at the instance of the Emperor
Charlemagne to bid thee lay down thy arms and surrender at discretion.
Thy life shall be spared, but the condition is thou shalt deliver up
thy brother Richard to the anger of the king as an expiation of thy
faults and those of thy brothers. What sayest thou?”
The brow of Maugis darkened at these ominous words.
“If thou refusest,” continued the envoy of the emperor in a threatening
tone, “neither grace nor pity shall be accorded thee or thine. All,
every one, shall be given over to the most hideous punishments, and thy
fortress shall be razed to the ground.”
Maugis laughed scornfully and replied with great indignation:
“Charlemagne, thy master, should know me well enough not to make
a proposition to me which is little better than an insult. As to
delivering to him my brother Richard, I would not commit such an act of
cowardice even to a stranger who had put himself under my protection.”
A low murmur of applause sounded throughout the audience-chamber at
these brave words.
“Thou canst, however, tell the emperor,” continued Maugis sorrowfully,
“that if instead of pursuing and fighting us he will grant us all his
pardon and take us into his service once more, as we are perfectly
disposed to do, we will surrender to him and will deliver up our
castle.”
“And this is all thy answer?” demanded the envoy.
“It is all,” replied Maugis.
The proposition of Maugis was so fair that most of the counsellors
of Charlemagne were of the opinion that he should accept it, but
Ganelon and his allies worked so successfully upon the self-pride of
Charlemagne as to lead him to refuse to consider these wise counsels
and to declare that he should not stop until he had completely
vanquished the five young men who had so persistently balked and
humiliated him.
He forthwith ordered the camp pitched around Montaubon, so as to
completely invest it, placing his own tent before the oriental gate,
while Roland placed his tent at the side opposite. Besides all these
preparations Roland studied the fortress with the closest attention,
replying to all observations that it seemed truly impregnable.
Thus a regular siege was commenced, it being the intention to reduce
the place by famine; so, as the days passed, the life of the soldiers
became very tranquil, some trifling skirmishes and keeping a close
watch being about all that occupied them.
This state of quiet gave their chiefs an abundant opportunity to make
excursions into the surrounding country, and it chanced one day, when
Roland and Olivier and his suite made such an expedition, that Maugis,
who kept well posted as to the movements of the enemy, resolved to
humiliate him.
He commanded his brothers to take a thousand men each, and sortie
quietly into the forest. He then, himself alone, secretly penetrated
into the camp of the allies, and stealing to the tent of Roland,
succeeded in reversing the royal dragon flag that waved over it.
A short time afterward the wary Archbishop Turpin, seeing a number of
birds fly out of the forest over his camp, shrewdly divined that troops
were ambuscaded there, and he soon ascertained that his suspicions were
correct. To summon Oger and tell him to put his soldiers under arms
was but the work of an instant. Meanwhile, Maugis, seeing they were
discovered, ordered his cousin Renaud with his one thousand men to
continue in the woods concealed, while he, with his three brothers with
their troops, boldly attacked the camp. They overturned and destroyed
the tents, and slew all whom they encountered, throwing them into
the utmost confusion, while cries arose on every hand for Roland and
Olivier, who of course did not respond, being absent.
The warlike Archbishop Turpin, furious to see everything upset in that
manner, threw himself upon Maugis, and so fierce was the combat that
ensued between them that their swords were broken in their hands, but
each still stood firm. Finally, Maugis gave a terrible stroke on the
fragment of the sword which the archbishop still fought with, which
caused the warrior priest to stagger.
“Good father!” exclaimed Maugis mockingly, “thou art greater in the
church than in the field.”
“S’death!” shouted the infuriated archbishop in reply, attacking Maugis
yet more furiously.
All the forces were now engaged, but they could not resist the
impetuous onslaught of the soldiers of the sons of Aymon, and to add to
their discomfiture Renaud came out of the forest with his detachment,
surprising the enemy in the rear, who, already nearly defeated, were
by this movement entirely put to rout. Conquered and exhausted, they
flew in all directions to gain the main body of the royal troops on the
other side of the castle.
The spoils gained by the victors were considerable, and were all safely
carried into Montaubon. Maugis, who had captured the dragon flag from
the tent of Roland, caused it to be placed on the highest tower in
defiance of his enemies.
The emperor, on the other side of the mountain on which the castle
was perched, knowing nothing of what was occurring, chanced to see
the dragon flying from the battlements of Montaubon, and thought that
Roland had become master of the fortress, and he gave way for a moment
to immoderate joy.
“I have lost many men,” cried he, “but the Aymons are now in my power.”
His illusion, however, was short lived.
It was nightfall when Roland and Olivier returned from their excursion,
not knowing anything had happened, and, when near the camp, they were
met by an officer, who quickly apprised them of what had occurred.
Roland thereupon hurried to the archbishop to learn full particulars of
the disaster, and together they sought the emperor, who was prepared to
give them a stern reprimand, but who was seized with such consternation
on hearing their story that he contented himself with giving them
instructions to be more vigilant in future while they were before an
enemy so active as Maugis.
This exciting episode, as well as the fact that he had not been able to
defeat his enemies, caused the emperor to become so exasperated that he
resolved he never would quit his camp until the château fortress was
taken. Ganelon advised him to attack Maugis by securing the perfidy
and abandonment of his allies, which counsel Charlemagne finally
reluctantly followed.
An envoy was sent to the King of Acquitaine, that he had entered the
kingdom with one hundred thousand men, and that it was his intention to
put everything to fire and the sword.
King Yon was very much disturbed by these menaces, and his courtiers
were at once divided into two parties. The one headed by the
treacherous abbé, who pointed out to the worried monarch that what was
occurring was what was predicted to him as the result of harboring
Maugis and his brothers, and that now was the time to yield them up and
save the kingdom and its people from certain destruction.
The other side, however, the true soldiers and brave men, urged upon
the king that they respect their word once given.
“Sire!” exclaimed a brave old knight, “these five intrepid knights,
when they found you in distress and your kingdom all but destroyed,
spared neither themselves nor their soldiers in thy succor. It would
surely be an offense to heaven to now retract all thy pledges to
them and to desert them in their necessity. It would be the basest
ingratitude.”
These brave words met with a murmur of approval from the assembled
courtiers, and emboldened several other knights to speak out in support
of the fair treatment of the brave brothers.
The king was sore perplexed, beset on one side by the influence of the
foul conspirators who had gained his confidence, and more than all by a
desire to save his kingdom from devastation and the possible overthrow
of his dynasty.
His countenance plainly evidenced the confusion which these varying
demands had brought upon him.
It is an old proverb that “He who hesitates is lost.” And the active
and ever ready abbé, seizing this moment as a favorable opportunity,
leaned forward and whispered in the ear of the hesitating king: “Sire,
this is truly a matter too important to decide with undue haste.
Sleep upon its consideration until the morrow, that a proper issue of
this most unhappy matter may be conceived.” This suggestion for delay
did not meet with the approval of many of the knights present, who,
admiring the bravery of the sons of Aymon, were unfavorable to any
hesitancy in according them just treatment.
They signalized their disfavor by loud murmurs, but King Yon weakly
gave way to the perfidious counsel for delay. Saying with a show of
decision: “We will allow the subject to rest until the morrow,” and
thereupon arose from his throne terminating the sitting.
The old knight, who had been so outspoken in favor of the brothers,
smote the hilt of his sword with anger until it rang. This was the
signal for a chorus of dissent from the assembled soldiers, which
ominous sound greeted the ears of the departing monarch without avail
though the test of his will was to be strained to very near to the
breaking; he was about to commit an act utterly at variance with the
nobility of character he had heretofore shown; and in the moral ruin
not only were those whom he loved about to be involved, but he himself
was to perish in the disaster.
The delay the perplexed monarch granted gave the Abbé Gorieux, Godefroy
and other malcontents of the court an opportunity they were not slow
to avail themselves of. That night a secret conference was held in the
private library of the king, at which the abbé was the spokesman. Said
he:
“Your majesty, the hesitancy you show in deciding this matter does
credit to your noble impulses; it is without doubt true that these
young men have rendered you great service, they came boldly and
skillfully to your rescue, when you were in need of succor, and you
have the right to be grateful to them; but, sire, you owe a duty
to your people and to your country far paramount to all personal
considerations. In your gratitude you have rewarded these knights in
a princely manner, you have generously fulfilled your obligations
to them, but in so doing you have caused a danger to threaten your
kingdom, your people, and your royal person, which there is but one way
to avert. Where now lies your duty? Is it in the suicidal policy of
resistance against the overmastering strength of Charlemagne? in which
there is nothing but certain ruin to all concerned; the overthrow of
your kingdom, pillage, flames and death for your unfortunate subjects.
Then, sire, how can you hesitate? Resist, and all these misfortunes
come upon you and your people; accede to Charlemagne’s demand and you
sacrifice the few to save the many.”
“How can I do this?” questioned the hesitating monarch; “you forget my
oath.”
“I do not forget thine oath, sire,” sternly continued the abbé; “I
can assure thee, in virtue of my holy office, that God will hold thee
absolved from an oath that will cost such dire misfortune to thy
country. Thy oath to thy people and thy kingly duty hath by far the
greater demand upon thee.”
The poor king bowed his head in the deepest dejection, the act he
was asked to commit revolted him, and there was going on within him
a bitter struggle between his self-interest and his duty to the sons
D’Aymon; then, too, he thought of the suffering of his sister. For a
moment the better nature was in the ascendancy. The wily abbé studied
his face and read there the struggle going on within; too crafty to
descend to lying, it only remained for the base Godefroy to complete
the work. Said he:
“In good sooth, sire; thou wouldst not hold thy oath to this sorcerer
and his brothers so heavy a burden on thy conscience didst thou but
know that they now conspire to rob thee of thy throne. This, I can
assure thee, I have from one who is in their counsel.”
“Art sure?” queried the king, arousing.
“I can prove this beyond a doubt,” replied the lying Godefroy.
“Enough!” cried King Yon, “let it be so, I will contend against thee no
longer.”
Then it was, the dishonored king, at the dead of night, conspired with
the enemies of Maugis to deliver him into the hands of Charlemagne,
which being complete, the king retired, at last easy in mind over the
prospect that he would be allowed undisturbed possession of his kingdom.
CHAPTER XI.
On the next day King Yon went to Montaubon, and said to Maugis:
“At last, dear brother, am I able to apprise thee that it will be
possible for thee and thy brothers to conclude peace with Charlemagne.
This has come about through my good offices, and I have come to
felicitate thee that thy struggles are over.”
Yon then made up a tissue of lies, cunningly devised for him by the
abbé, giving color to the statement that he came to Maugis in behalf
of the emperor to offer to the brothers D’Aymon terms of peace. He
stipulated they should go the next day, all four, armed only with their
swords, to meet Charlemagne on the plain of Vancoleurs.
“I will give you,” said the hypocritical king, “a few knights of my
court to accompany you. To show your humility you will go mounted upon
mules, and you will carry in your hands branches of roses and olives
as a sign of reconciliation. The emperor will await you there with the
Duke de Naimes, Oger, and twelve peers. You will throw yourselves on
your knees at his feet and he will then pardon you and allow you to
retain full possession of all your rights.”
At this happy news the face of Maugis lighted with joy, but it was
soon clouded with doubt; although he feared no treachery from his
brother-in-law, he had no confidence in Charlemagne.
“’Tis indeed good news,” said he, “that thou dost bring me, good
brother, but canst thou assure me there is no treachery behind all
these fair promises?”
“Do not fail to heed me, but go,” replied the base king. “Thou knowest
well, brother, that I have thy interests truly at heart, and would not
advise thee did I not know that it will be absolutely safe for thee to
go. It were madness for thee now to scorn this chance to make thy peace
with the emperor; it is thy last chance, avail thyself of it without
fail.”
A little later, after the departure of King Yon, Maugis summoned
his brothers in council, and acquainted them with the offers of the
emperor. They were each and all seized with the same dire presentiments.
“If the King Yon tells the truth,” cried Alard, “that Charlemagne will
really accord us his friendship, why does he exact we shall appear as
if dishonored, why are we to go without arms to the middle of a plain,
where if attacked we could all be easily killed without being able
to resist. I distrust, brother, I distrust much that we are to be
betrayed.”
“It is impossible!” declared Maugis, “that there can be any treason
in an affair in which my brother-in-law, King Yon, is acting as a
negotiator. He is above all baseness, and besides, you all know he made
oath to us that we could count upon his loyalty.”
The council then broke up, the brothers by no means sharing the
confidence of Maugis in the outcome, yet, deferring to his opinion,
they hurried away to make preparations for the next day.
Maugis hastened to his own apartments, where he informed Yolande of his
contemplated expedition the following day. She paled upon hearing of
it, not being able to resist a feeling of fear that was insurmountable.
“Go not, my husband, I beseech thee,” she cried.
“There can be no danger,” explained Maugis; “thy brother Yon, he is
incapable of deception, and it is he who is acting as intermediary
between the emperor and us; surely I can rely upon his advice and
assurances.”
“I care not, I care not,” responded Yolande. “Yon would not deceive
you, perhaps, more quickly than another; but you must remember he is
only human, and, like the rest of the world, would sacrifice any one
else for his own interest. Mistrust then, Maugis, as I mistrust; if you
go to the meeting, I feel you are all lost.”
“Dear one, thy fears are but phantoms,” tenderly replied Maugis,
unconvinced and trying to reassure her.
“No! no!” responded Yolande; “my fears are real, why should you go like
the vanquished without arms? Is that your place? no! go with arms in
hand, if you must go, followed by your faithful knights, and meet them
as equals, then I shall fear nothing.”
Against all this advice, the next day Maugis set out with his four
brothers, followed by the ten lords of King Yon, to meet the Emperor
Charlemagne. By this time King Yon, who had never before lost his
honor, was half-tempted to regret the villainous action he was about
to commit, but the abbé and Godefroy, ever at his side, confirmed his
purpose by representing to him the enormous benefits to him of the
action, and his heart was hardened and he remained silent.
At the head of the little troop, marching slowly onward, Maugis was
confronted by a presentiment which caused him to fear there might
be reason in the doubts expressed by his brothers and his wife. He,
however, by an effort of will cast it aside, they, meanwhile, having
arrived at the plain of Vancouleurs. It was a forbidding spot, being
surrounded by dense forests, and had no possible issue for them in case
of flight; besides, the river Gironde, which traversed it, four roads
led from it; the road to France, the road to Portugal, the road to
Spain, and road to the kingdom of Acquitaine; but these roads were now
all guarded by ambuscades of five hundred men belonging to Charlemagne.
Surprised at not finding any one on the plain, Maugis and his little
company proceeded across it and placed themselves at the foot of a
steep rock, which was pierced by a narrow opening. Alard had by this
time persuaded Maugis that they were betrayed, and that they were wise
if they immediately retraced their steps; when, however, they attempted
to do this, they suddenly encountered Foulques de Morillon at the head
of three hundred men.
“We are betrayed!” shouted Maugis, then turning quickly to the knights
of his escort, he cried: “Ah, gentlemen, you whom King Yon has sent to
accompany us, you will give us your aid now?”
Then Godefroy, who was of the escort and who had hated Maugis from the
time of his arrival at the court of Yon, responded, saying:
“Not we, we have been forced to accompany you against our will and
neither myself nor any of these other lords are willing to give thee
any assistance.” These half-defiant and half-sneering words had hardly
died upon his lips when Maugis, seeing at last the trap into which they
had been lured, turned upon him and with incredible quickness, with one
stroke of his sword, cleft his head to the chin. The other knights
then fled for safety and joined the side of the enemy.
“Come on, dear friends!” cried Maugis, “until we are taken we will
defend ourselves like men of heart; we will fight here back to back,
and will never submit to be taken alive.”
All four brothers embraced as if for a final adieu, and rolling their
cloaks around their left arms to parry the blows, they grimly awaited
the enemy, firm of foot and sword in hand.
Struck by their courage and coolness, Foulques de Morillon cried out to
them:
“Yield thee; resistance is useless, King Yon hath given thee up, thou
art surrounded on every hand, therefore surrender, for assistance is
impossible.”
“Sayest thou so,” said Maugis defiantly in reply; “thy further lies are
useless, except to insult brave knights after having betrayed them;
liar and coward, defend thyself; I challenge thee to single combat.”
Foulques made no reply to this, but charged upon Maugis, lance at rest,
and wounded him in the thigh. At this unexpected charge Maugis and
his mule rolled together in the dust. Alard, seeing Maugis down, and
fearing he had been killed, cried to his brothers:
“Let us yield, further struggle is useless.”
To their great surprise, however, Maugis arose, quickly disengaging
himself from his mount, and threw himself in front of Foulques, who
charged upon him again, endeavoring to run him down; quick as lightning
Maugis evaded the charge by springing to one side, and then coming up
behind the horse of his enemy he leaped upon the crupper in his rear,
at the same time running him through with his sword, and throwing him
to the earth. Maugis possessed now a horse and had also secured the
lance and shield of De Morillon.
“Do not separate!” he shouted to his brothers, as he charged head down
into the midst of the French forces. The first to meet his infuriated
sword was the Duke of Cory, who fell lifeless. He then with one blow
of his gigantic arm cleft Engenrrand to the saddle, and like a flash,
without seeming to take breath, he fought fast and furious, until he
had in all, one after the other, made eleven knights bite the dust.
His indomitable courage and spirit would have carried him further
onward, but glancing behind, he saw Alard who, though wounded, was
hastening to join him. Alard bestrode the horse and had taken the
arms of one of the knights killed by his brother. Together the two
now continued what was no less than a butchery; their enemies seemed
stunned, they slew them one after another until in a few moments they
were surrounded with a small mountain of the dead.
Not far behind were Richard and Guichard, dismounted, fighting step by
step to join them.
The French, confident in their superior numbers, instead of seeking
to kill the four brothers, endeavored to surround them and take them
alive. They did succeed in separating them from Maugis, and were making
a desperate attempt to capture Guichard, who, however, made such a
vigorous resistance that he laid low in succession the first four
who approached him. Richard had regained the rock, resolved to die
rather than submit to capture. Maugis, completely carried away by the
excitement of battle, followed by Alard, resolved to die rather than
any of them be delivered into the hands of Charlemagne. With incredible
fury they fought, cut, hacked, beat down and killed all before them,
until they reached Guichard, who had been meanwhile overcome. Alard
quickly cut the cords that bound him, put him on the horse of a dead
enemy, giving him his arms. Guichard then paid back with interest his
few moments of captivity.
During this time, Richard, who, next to Maugis, was the strongest
of the brothers, had become separated from the rest. He tried at
any sacrifice to rejoin them and they on their side sought for him.
Richard, covered with wounds and spent with fatigue, was fast sinking
down by the rock, without sufficient force to climb upon it. He was
surrounded by a circle of knights whom he had killed. At this supreme
moment, Gerard de Vanvier, cousin of Foulques de Morillon, seeing that
he was nearly dead, charged upon him with his horse, lance abreast,
and wounded him in the shoulder, but Richard, who had become somewhat
rested, summoned all his strength and stopped his assassin with a
terrible stroke of the sword, hurling him from his horse, then the
conqueror and the conquered fell down together, the one nearly dead,
and the other beyond recall.
The three brothers, who had been all this time fighting, were searching
for Richard, without perceiving him, now gained the rock, and only then
saw his figure lying in the midst of the bodies of his enemies. Maugis
quickly ordered his two brothers to dismount and carry their wounded
brother within the opening of the rock for shelter, he meanwhile would
fight the enemy off.
“My poor brother!” cried Maugis, “you are the victim of the treachery
of King Yon. May God preserve me until I have taken vengeance, for it
shall be terrible.”
Alard and Guichard had tenderly raised the body of Richard and in the
midst of a storm of projectiles of all sorts had borne him within the
rock. During the journey he made a slight movement, opened his eyes and
said to them:
“My dear brothers, go to the assistance of Maugis. I am yet strong
enough to defend myself. I shall see you all again, for I am sure we
will be able to extricate ourselves.”
Taking his advice, Alard and Guichard hastened to rejoin Maugis, whom
they found surrounded by the bodies of dead enemies. Their own horses
had disappeared, and making a sortie they easily captured more, and
then continued the furious combat, being enabled finally to regain the
opening of the rock, which they contented themselves in defending.
The four intrepid brothers, reunited, and for a time safe, were hoping
that their enemy would withdraw, which was suddenly dashed to the
earth, when Oger, at the head of three thousand men, appeared and
completely surrounded them.
The situation now seemed indeed hopeless. Amid an impressive silence
the grizzled old soldier, Oger, rode forward from the serried ranks and
cried out in a stern tone:
“Wretched men, give thyselves up, resistance is useless; or,” he added
menacingly, “take care of yourselves, for I shall not regard the family
ties that exist between us, and I shall use every means to force you to
obey me. The only thing for you to do is to cease your resistance.”
“You give yourself useless trouble,” replied Maugis defiantly, “we fear
you not.”
During the time occupied by this parley, Richard had recovered himself,
and had bound up his wounds from strips from his cloak. Alard likewise
had bound up the wound in his thigh, stopping the flow of blood,
and to the astonishment of the assembled host they all grimly ranged
themselves side by side and awaited the onslaught of their astonished
enemies, who marvelled at their courage; then, touched by compassion,
Oger halted his soldiers, saying to them he would endeavor to persuade
them to surrender.
He then approached near to the rock, and thus addressed them in kindly
tones:
“My dear cousin, I pray you to surrender; it will be impossible for
you to resist long; you will surely be slain, because nothing can
prevent my soldiers from successfully assaulting the rock that shelters
you. You have not sufficient means of defense in your swords and your
lances. You have not even the resource of a pile of heavy stones with
which to beat down your assailants when they seek to climb up the rock,
and though you may see how much I admire your bravery, I shall stay
here until you are completely subdued for want of food.”
“I thank you, my cousin,” replied Maugis in the same spirit, “and I
should profit by thy advice, but that we never can forget the baseness
of the plot which brought us to this dire extremity.”
At these words Oger shook his head sadly, and returned to his command,
and Maugis climbed to the top of the rock to see in what way he
could provide some means of defense. From the height thus gained he
contemplated with pride the number of enemies they had slain, and
then chancing to raise his eyes to the horizon he beheld a sight which
caused the blood to leap quickening to his heart; a body of troops
were advancing in all haste. He could hardly conceal his joy when he
recognized at their head his cousin Renaud, mounted on Bayard, his own
famous horse. He whispered joyfully in the ear of Guichard the welcome
news, warning him to quietly acquaint the other brothers, in a manner
that would not arouse the suspicion of their waiting and watching enemy.
Maugis now descended from the rock and sought to occupy in some manner
the attention of Oger, in order to gain delay.
Though entirely deceived by Maugis, Oger could hear the murmurings
of his soldiers, who demanded an assault on the rock should be made.
He was about to return to them, when he was arrested by the voice of
Maugis, saying:
“My good cousin, if thou hast kindly feeling to us, grant us an hour’s
truce; you cannot refuse this request with a good conscience; you have
three thousand men against four miserable knights; thou art assured of
victory; never fear that Charlemagne will address you one reproach in
that regard.”
“I will grant it thee willingly,” replied Oger, so he withdrew to his
troops, and gave them the order to wait. At this their murmurings were
loud and deep.
“Silence!” roared Oger, “the first man who stirs one step I will strike
down with my sword.” This stern threat had the effect to keep them
quiet.
A little more than half an hour had passed when Alard and Richard
wished to recommence the battle.
“My good brother,” said Richard, “the troop of Renaud, now coming, is
superior to that of Oger by over one thousand men; it is in our power
to take a terrible vengeance, and this is how we can do it: let us
advance upon them now, and get them so busily occupied that they will
not perceive what is passing behind them; in this way we will enable
Renaud to approach them in the rear and cut them to pieces; if, on the
contrary, we let them become aware of the approach of our friends, the
enemy may escape combat by flight and we will miss our revenge.”
This plan received the approval of the three brothers, and they
accordingly descended from the rock, Maugis and Guichard leading the
way, followed by Alard and Richard. The enemy upon witnessing this
movement thought at once that the sons of Aymon, appalled by their
numbers, and discouraged by their wounds, had decided to give up the
contest, and were about to surrender. The veteran, Oger, could not bear
the idea of their thus tamely giving themselves up. It was against that
old fighter’s nature; accordingly he rode out toward the rock, and
shouted to them:
“Be warned, young men, thou hast thy right to leave thy refuge,
but know thou, I am ordered to take thee alive, conduct thee to
Charlemagne, when he will put thee to an ignominious death. I would
prefer much that as brave men thou shouldst die in battle rather than
surrender thus tamely like men of no courage.”
This kindly advice caused a hot flush to suffuse the face of Maugis,
and drawing up his tall form he fiercely replied:
“We will never surrender, we will die with our arms in our hands rather
than that. Our cause is just, and we only hope you will not escape our
vengeance, because you have basely betrayed us.”
Oger withdrew sadly upon this, his eyes filled with tears of pity,
and rejoining his troops he ordered them to attack the four brothers;
but his punishment was near at hand, for at that moment Renaud, who
had successfully traversed the forest in their rear, came upon them,
and before they could recover from their surprise, had completely
surrounded them. Renaud rode ferociously at Oger, and aimed at him a
terrible stroke of his sword, but he was carried away from the object
of his attack by Bayard, who recognized his master.
Without delay the soldiers of Renaud, taking advantage of their
surprise and stupor, fell upon the enemy and slew them with a most
terrible carnage.
Fighting with the greatest ardor, the soldiers of Renaud had completely
routed the command of Oger, but were temporarily arrested by the royal
ambuscaders, who though in full retreat, stopped them so suddenly that
the pursuers fell over each other. During the fight, Maugis, who had
mounted his horse Bayard, had charged upon Oger and dismounted him; he
then descended, and courteously assisting the veteran to remount, said
to him:
“Thou hast not succeeded in bathing your hands in our blood, but you
have participated in a treachery; you have acted the part of a coward.
Go! you are despicable. Never come before me again or I will not be so
forgiving.”
This taunt made Oger furious, and he charged upon Maugis, giving him
a terrible stroke upon the head, which for an instant caused him to
totter on his horse. Oger was about to renew the attack, when Alard
and Guichard came up with some soldiers, and attacked the escort of
Oger with great fury, putting them to flight, and massacring all who
resisted; afterward they sought the wounded Richard and bore him to a
place of safety.
CHAPTER XII.
For a time Richard was thought to be dying; they tenderly put him upon
a hastily constructed litter, enveloped in the remains of their cloaks,
and then returned to Montaubon, where they were received with the
rejoicings of the people. The meeting between Maugis and Yolande was
most affecting; she shed tears of happiness upon his breast, overjoyed
to see again him whom she thought was lost forever.
After a few days of rest, Maugis resolved to punish King Yon, and was
actively making his preparations to do so when a messenger arrived at
the court from his brother-in-law. He was immediately shown into the
presence of Maugis.
“How now!” sternly demanded Maugis of the envoy; “what wouldst thou?”
“My lord,” replied the messenger, “I come to thee from thy sorrowing
and repentant brother-in-law, King Yon. He doth most humbly crave thy
forgiveness and pardon and doth relate to thee his most sorrowful and
unhappy condition. Roland doth hold him captive, and he craves thee to
lay aside thy just resentment and to deliver him from his hands.”
Maugis was silent for a moment and could not resist a sigh at thus
perceiving how the treachery of the King of Acquitaine had served to
punish and degrade him.
“’Tis well,” said Maugis, “the baseness of thy master hath brought to
him its own reward, yet great as my resentment is, I do not recognize
the right of Roland to hold King Yon his prisoner, even though he be my
worthless relative, I shall wrest him from his bonds. Get thee gone!”
Maugis then called a council of his brothers and acquainted them with
his plans. The troops were ordered under arms, and all preparations
were made to go out and attack the enemy at once.
The expedition, headed by Maugis, had proceeded but a short distance
when they came upon Roland, face to face, at the head of a considerable
number of troops. A halt was ordered and Maugis rode forward, lowered
his lance, and said to Roland:
“Brave knight, we have been shedding each other’s blood in a bitter
quarrel, which it is now time to terminate, once for all. Thou art a
relative of Charlemagne, and of mine; I pray thee use thy influence to
pacify the emperor, and on my part I will do all in my power to second
your efforts. We are willing to undertake, as a penance, war against
the infidels, in the name of the Emperor of France, my brothers and I;
I pray thee, then, in behalf of all, to accept my offer.”
Roland, much affected by the frank and manly words of Maugis, replied:
“Brave knight, for myself, I gladly tell thee I would only be too
willing to accede to these requests, but alas! Charlemagne refuses to
hear of peace under any conditions, except that thee and thy brothers
are delivered into his hands.”
“Then it is useless,” responded Maugis; “we will fight until death
before we will ever lower ourselves to commit such a great act of
cowardice.”
Saying this, Maugis lowered his visor, set his lance at rest, and
spurring his horse quickly forward, charged upon Roland. Roland in turn
drew his famous sword and aimed a terrible blow at Maugis, which the
latter received upon his shield, but such was its force the shield flew
to pieces, and Roland stopping, said, smiling at his adversary:
“Good, my cousin, I have taken my revenge on thee for thy rashness; thy
shield is gone, we will now quit.”
“No,” replied Maugis, “if thou hast destroyed my shield for vengeance,
I will punish thee for thy pride.”
This singular combat would have been continued, and with their
followers included, all would have become engaged in a duel to
extermination, if Renaud had not restrained his cousin. On his side
Olivier, the friend of Roland, likewise detained the nephew of
Charlemagne, who, however, had become enraged at the taunt of Maugis
and would listen to nothing, but would throw himself with all his force
upon him.
Things were at this delicate point when in the distance a body of
troops were seen approaching with a slow and measured tread. They
surrounded a man habited in the garb of a monk; the doleful strains of
the _Miserere_ came floating to them borne on the breeze. The nearer
approach of this melancholy procession revealed the fact that the man
in the garb of a monk was no other than King Yon; they were conducting
him to execution. This sight caused Maugis to forget all his resentment
against his brother-in-law. He drew his troops across the road, barring
the progress of the guard, and thundered out the order to them:
“Halt!”
“Stand aside!” responded the commandant of the guard.
“Again I command thee to halt,” cried Maugis; “yield thy prisoner!”
At these words Maugis commanded his troops to charge, and they
threw themselves upon the guard with such fury that they were all
either killed or dispersed, and finally the unfortunate King Yon was
delivered from their hands. He then threw himself at the feet of his
brother-in-law, saying:
“I am not worthy to live in thy presence; the sole grace I can implore
of thee is that I may meet death at thy hands.”
At the sight of Maugis fighting the guardians of King Yon, the troops
on each side all along the line became engaged in a murderous conflict,
and intermingling formed a vast struggling mass, in the midst of which
could be seen the swords rising and falling, at each stroke meeting a
victim. Roland, in the meantime, was not inactive; he wrought upon his
enemy injury equal to that of Maugis.
Richard, who was still weak from his wounds, and fought but little,
became surrounded, and Roland perceiving it, rode toward him, and not
deeming it chivalrous to accept his defiance, ordered him to be taken
alive. Richard defended himself like a lion at bay, but was very soon
buried under a mass of the enemy, hurled from his horse and compelled
to yield. He refused to give his sword to any one but Roland, whom he
considered only worthy to receive it.
It was in the midst of the fight that the sorrowful news of the capture
of Richard was borne to Maugis; it made him furious; he declared he
would at any price secure the liberty of Richard, and he was about to
appoint Alard and Guichard to act in his place, while he proceeded
against the camp of Charlemagne to deliver his brother, but his cousin
Renaud arrested him.
“Thy project is foolish,” said he; “if you take such a step you will
certainly be yourself captured, then what can you do? Listen, I have
myself an account to settle with the emperor, and if Richard has
not already been executed, I will enter the camp of Charlemagne in
disguise, will learn what they intend doing with him, and we can then
know better what steps to take for his rescue.”
“Thy plan is wise,” said Maugis, “and knowing thy discretion, am
assured thou wilt return from thy perilous mission in safety.”
Accordingly, Renaud at once retired, and hastily disguising himself
as a pilgrim, leaning wearily upon a stick, proceeded to the camp
of Charlemagne, whither Richard had been borne. On nearing the camp
he walked very feebly, and assumed such a miserable aspect that all
gates were opened before him; such was the reverence for holiness and
sanctity, that pilgrims from the holy land were held in those days, and
when, at last, he had arrived before the tent of the emperor, and was
ushered into his presence, he said to Charlemagne:
“Pax Vobiscum, great ruler, I have just returned from Jerusalem,
where I prostrated myself before the tomb of our Divine Master,” and
reverently crossing himself he bowed his hooded head upon his breast
and stood silent.
“Most holy man, I give thee greeting,” replied the emperor; “what
commands hast thou for me? Speak, and they are granted thee.”
“Sire,” continued the false monk, “while on my way yesterday by
Balancon, with other pilgrims, traveling the same road, we were set
upon by brigands; all my companions were slain, and I alone, by the
mercy of God, escaped death, and that only because they thought I was
so near death already. At the nearest village I could gain I learned
that the country was being ravaged by the four sons of Aymon, aided
by a certain Renaud, and, from a picture, I am sure it was the latter
who was our assailant, and it was he who brought me to this miserable
state.” Here the pilgrim made another sign of the cross, saluted the
emperor with humility, and begged him for food, as it had been a long
time since he had had what he required.
Renaud acted his part so well that Charlemagne was taken completely off
his guard, and suspicious of nothing, gave orders that the holy father
be well treated as one deserved who possessed such precious information.
Renaud added to the good impression he had produced by a liberal
quantity of prayers and blessings. At this point the camp was aroused
by a blare of trumpets from without; it was Roland who had arrived with
Richard surrounded by a strong guard.
Charlemagne, who had already been warned by Ganelon of the result of
his nephew’s expedition, received him joyfully, and, upon hearing his
story, embraced him. Said he:
“Thou hast done well; let the rebel be delivered to punishment at once.”
At the first sight of the pilgrim, Richard recognized his cousin
Renaud, which had the effect of reassuring him as to his safety.
Renaud, on his part, succeeded in learning the plans of the execution,
and where it was to take place, then he quietly withdrew, hastened
to Montaubon and gave the order summoning all to arms as quickly as
possible. This being accomplished, he prepared to lead them to the
place of execution, and took the troops around by a circuitous route
to the appointed place, hiding them in the woods nearby, and enjoining
every one to preserve the utmost silence.
On the arrival of Richard at the camp, Charlemagne immediately
assembled his council. Said he:
“At last one of the rebellious sons of Aymon has been delivered into my
hands; it has been at a fearful cost of blood and treasure. They have
defied and insulted me. I should be illy fitted to be a ruler did I not
make a most forcible example of this rebellious subject, therefore do
I decide to hang him as near the château on the mountain as possible,
that it may give the execution an imposing effect. Let the affair
proceed at once.”
Now arose a difficulty to find an executioner. There was a secret
admiration for the brave sons of Aymon throughout the camp. This was
revealed when no one would volunteer to fill the office. At last a
person of the court of bad reputation, one Des Rives by name, who
had already made himself conspicuous by his questionable exploits,
presented himself for the task, hoping by means of this low action to
gain favor in the eyes of the emperor, and Charlemagne at once accepted
him.
Faithful to his past, and at the cost of his honor, Des Rives then
approached Richard and read him the sentence of death. Then he mounted
Richard upon a mule, and brought him before the tent of Charlemagne,
further humiliating him by taunts and jeers.
At all times in France men have fought solely for the desire to
conquer, and rarely for the hate of their enemies, therefore the
conduct of the cowardly and villainous Des Rives so much affected the
assembled knights and soldiers that many a stern eye shed tears to
see the treatment suffered by a man so renowned for his bravery and
nobility of character.
The troops of the escort now surrounded him and conducted him away to
the place of execution. All along the road Richard watched anxiously
to see if he could see some friendly face that would give to him the
promise of a rescue, but seeing none, he commenced to despair, and
made the resolve to accept his fate, asking for a priest to assist
him in his last moments. This Des Rives refused, but Oger, who formed
part of the escort, became indignant and roundly denounced the
dastardly nephew of Foulques de Morillon, for he, himself, was honest
and upright, and would have granted the request; he was even about to
see that it was done, when at this instant they were set upon by the
soldiers of Maugis and taken completely by surprise.
The cowardly Des Rives then threw himself at the feet of his prisoner
and abjectly protested that he had only acted in the manner he had done
at the command of his superiors, that he was even forced into doing so
upon the penalty of his life. Strange drift of circumstances it was,
that he, the executioner, should thus supplicate to Richard as if he
himself were the condemned.
Meanwhile, Alard and Guichard had hemmed in the imperial troops, but
not before Oger, Turpin and Olivier had made their escape, leaving
Ganelon and Pinabel, the low companions of Des Rives, to extricate
themselves the best they could.
Renaud, who had captured Des Rives, would have then and there slain
him, but Maugis dissuaded him. Then being made aware how Des Rives had
volunteered to perform a cowardly action so unworthy of knighthood,
he ordered him to prepare himself for his final punishment. In vain
the coward threw himself at his feet and begged for mercy. Maugis
was unpitying, and Des Rives was forthwith strung from the very
gibbet that was destined for Richard. Before re-entering the fortress
Maugis wished to see his Cousin Oger, but found he had returned to
the imperial camp. Then Richard, so recently freed, smarting from
the indignities offered him, volunteered to make a sortie into the
camp of his unsuspecting enemies, and penetrate even to the tent of
Charlemagne. Maugis, thinking this possible, consented, and gave him an
escort of five hundred men, and he also hung about his brother’s neck
his own horn, at a signal from which he promised to come to his rescue,
if necessary, with the main body of his troops.
By means of a more direct route, Richard and his company were enabled
to arrive at the camp of the emperor before the fugitives of Des Rives’
escort could arrive. Stationing his troops at some little distance
away, mounted on the horse of Des Rives, disguised by his armor, and
holding in his hand the banner of the traitor, Richard penetrated
boldly into the camp as far as the tent of the emperor, who, mistaking
him for the villain, had no doubt but that the execution had been
accomplished. Naimes, who had remained at the camp, did not doubt that
it was really Des Rives. Oger, Turpin, and Olivier, who had retreated
when Maugis surrounded the imperial escort, thought it might be
Pinabel, who, having escaped, was returning. A perfect storm of insult
was then hurled at the head of the supposed Des Rives. In a paroxysm of
rage, Oger rushed forward, grasped the bridle of his horse, drew his
sword and threatened him with death. It was in vain Charlemagne tried
to calm him, and Richard was finally forced to speak, saying, as he
raised the visor of his helmet:
“All is well, my dear cousin; it is not the coward Des Rives whom you
address; it is your cousin, who once more exposes his life to render to
you his thanks for the great service you would have rendered him.”
Transported with joy, Oger was hastening to embrace him, when
Charlemagne interposed himself between them; flying into violent rage,
he pushed his horse against that of Richard, and he aimed at Richard a
violent blow with his sword, which the latter succeeded in parrying,
then put himself on the defensive. Now, thoroughly furious, the emperor
cried:
“Montjoie!” in stentorian tone.
At the sound of this famous war-cry, the camp was aroused, and the
imperial soldiers came rushing toward the tent, but Richard had by this
time given the signal from his horn and his nine hundred men came upon
the scene, precipitately to the rescue.
The _mêlée_ then became general; all the pent-up hatreds and passions
and prejudices came uppermost. By chance, Charlemagne and Maugis met
and charged upon each other with fury, and with such force that they
unhorsed each other; then, sword in hand, they renewed the action on
foot, without either gaining any advantage; the great warrior emperor,
whose arms were celebrated as being invincible, little accustomed to
meeting such sturdy resistance, manifested his astonishment aloud. At
the sound of his well-known voice, Maugis, who had not recognized the
emperor, his face being concealed by his visor, immediately lowered his
sword, approached and kneeled before him to the earth.
“Sire!” said he humbly, “accord me a truce and I will engage my
knightly word you will never again have cause of complaint against me,
only I ask not to have any of my privileges taken from me, except by
due legal process.”
“Who art thou?” demanded the astonished emperor; “to whom am I asked to
give my word?”
“I am Maugis,” responded the knight, “and I ask you for pardon for
me and mine, assuring you it is not the fear of being conquered that
causes me to make this supplication; it is because I desire to enter
into good relations with you and to once more put to your service my
courage and my sword.”
It was not without a certain reluctance that the emperor consented to
talk with a man whom he detested, but at the same time admired.
“I will grant thee peace, only on one condition,” he sternly replied.
“Sire, if thou wouldst but name it.”
“That condition is,” responded the emperor; “thou shalt deliver up to
me thy cousin Renaud.”
“But, sire,” said Maugis pleadingly, “even did I not love my cousin I
could not be so lost to honor as to deliver him up, even if it were to
redeem my own brother from death.”
“Then I will promise nothing,” thundered the emperor, “but war, and war
all the time. Defend thyself,” he shouted, “I will, at least, permit
thee to fight with me.”
Saying this, Charlemagne rushed upon Maugis and struck him such a
terrible blow with his sword that the shield of Maugis was shivered.
Transported with rage, Maugis, in his turn, threw himself upon the
emperor, and dragging him from his horse, held him in a herculean
grasp, in his left hand, while with his right he fought all who came to
the rescue of his prey. At this juncture Roland came up and attacked
Maugis so fiercely that to defend himself he was obliged to set loose
his royal prisoner. Then, freeing himself to fight, he turned upon
Roland and, seconded by his brothers, forced him to take flight to save
himself from being captured. Furious to have been compelled to yield to
the emperor, Maugis sounded the retreat, and with his troops returned
to the château in good order.
His blood now thoroughly aroused, on the morning of the next day Maugis
took three thousand men with him and again directed a movement against
the camp of Charlemagne, resolved this time to penetrate to his very
tent and master him.
So sudden was their movement, and so unanticipated, that by a furious
charge he was able to penetrate to the very portal of the royal
pavilion. Maugis surmounted it and with one stroke of the sword severed
the golden eagle at its apex, and descended to the earth safely, where
he was met by his cousin Renaud, and together they secured their prize.
The four sons of Aymon were, in the meantime, surrounded by a multitude
of confused imperial soldiers, whom they threw down and slew without
pity.
Thinking this a favorable moment, Renaud alone retired from the fight
to secure a hiding place for the golden eagle, and returned hastily,
only to find that the brothers had gone. He next encountered Olivier
and Roland, but turning his horse and evading their strokes, he took
flight, not realizing how close a pursuit was following him. Near
Belancon, he thought to rest, when suddenly he found himself in the
midst of a troop who were pursuing him with desperation. Impatient with
a pursuit so incessant, Renaud turned and made a terrible charge upon
the leader of his enemies, who, however, did not await his onslaught,
but met him halfway, and with a stroke of his lance wounded the
intrepid Renaud, throwing him from his horse. Renaud, half-stunned,
arose and vigorously defended himself, and with such great energy that
Olivier cried out to him:
“Yield, brave knight, you court inevitable death; it were a pity to
hide such courage and such valor in the obscurity of death.”
[Illustration: YE OLDE CITIE OF MOUZON.]
“Who art thou,” exclaimed Renaud, “who summons me to surrender, and who
fights so fiercely?”
“I am Olivier, and to place yourself in my power is no disgrace;
therefore yield, I pray you.”
“I accept,” replied Renaud; “but on one condition, and that is, that,
if I give myself up, it be agreed I am your prisoner and your prisoner
only; it being well understood that no matter what order you may
receive, or what importance the person is who gives it, you are not to
deliver me up; this is the sole condition I impose.”
“I give thee my knightly word,” said Olivier.
“I know you well, Olivier,” continued Renaud, “and I was certain in
advance what your reply would be. Know me now, I am Renaud, and you may
understand why I make these conditions, as Charlemagne is my bitter
enemy.”
Olivier took Renaud to his camp, helped him off with his armor, bathed
his wounds, and placed him in his own bed.
When the news of the capture of Renaud reached the ears of the emperor,
he sent an officer to Olivier, commanding him to deliver his prisoner.
Olivier, though loyally anxious to obey the orders of his sovereign,
was restrained by the conditions Renaud had made when he surrendered
himself; he therefore hastened to the emperor to explain.
“Sire,” said Olivier, “I have given my word not to yield my prisoner,
and thou knowest I am a man who never violates his promise.”
“S’death!” cried Charlemagne in a rage; “knowest thou, sir, that the
first duty of a knight is to submit without restrictions to the orders
of his king, and that all other oaths are as nothing before the oath of
fidelity to his master.”
After Olivier had retired, the emperor bethought him that he had a
means whereby the scruples of Olivier might be overcome. He accordingly
ordered Roland, the Archbishop Turpin, and the Duke de Naimes, to take
Renaud from Olivier by force, thinking Olivier would accept this as
releasing him from his word, inasmuch as Renaud would be taken from
him by compulsion. Olivier, however, thought otherwise when the three
envoys appeared at his tent, demanding Renaud; he drew his sword, and
swore he would kill any man who endeavored to execute that order, even
if he were the bravest in the army.
Renaud, who had overheard all this contention, not being willing that
Olivier should meet with disgrace on his account, then came forward and
said:
“Sir knights, I place myself in your hands, and hereby disengage
Olivier of his word.”
“I also disengage thee of thine,” cried Olivier, not to be outdone in
generosity; “you may take your liberty,” continued he, “because you are
my prisoner and mine only, and no person here has any right to you.”
Charlemagne was furious; he ordered the rearrest of Renaud at once, and
ordered him to be brought into his presence. Said he:
“I shall recognize no pledges made to thee, prepare to die; nothing
shall save you, now that you are in my power. I vow to you a death of
the most frightful and degrading kind.”
Having said this, the emperor gave an order for his heralds to go
forward under the walls of Montaubon and announce to Maugis the
punishment of his cousin.
CHAPTER XIII.
Charlemagne sought to establish his right for having taken Renaud in
his power. The emperor called an assemblage of the highest peers of his
court. Said he to them:
“My lords, you are well aware of the causes of the hatred I bear
toward Renaud; you know the last outrage he has committed was to tear
the golden eagle from the top of my tent; he hath even attacked our
royal person, and had it not been for the aid of Olivier and divine
Providence, which always protects the cause of the just, I should at
least have been wounded. It was his intention to kill me none the less.
He is therefore culpable. Even if I did not occupy the elevated rank
which places me at your head, I would not pardon him. Settling the
matter between us by personal combat is out of the question. I am an
emperor, and I must see that justice is rendered, and I must set the
example. I will not accuse him of having attempted my life. I will not
seek to punish him for his crime of lese-majesty, but he shall suffer
the direst punishment like a traitor to his oath for having supported
the four sons of Aymon, and above all, for having taken up arms
against me.”
“I now order that he be immediately given to the flames.”
Then arose Leon de Hautfeuille, a wise courtier.
“Sire,” said he, “there can be no exception taken to thy just
resentment, but if thou dost carry thy sentence out immediately, will
it not encourage Maugis and his brothers in the belief that thou
fearest a rescue from them so much thou decidest to be rid of Renaud at
once?”
If there was one point upon which Charlemagne was sensitive it was
self-pride; a mere suggestion of this kind would arouse him, and it was
through this weakness in his noble character that Ganelon and others
accomplished their designs; although Leon was honest, the suggestion
was sufficient to cause the emperor to postpone the execution until
the morrow, and he further ordered that this time, that there might be
no possibility of a rescue, that Renaud be placed under a strong guard
composed of twelve peers, Charlemagne telling them that he would hold
them responsible for his person.
Renaud gave his word, to the twelve peers who guarded him, laughingly,
that he would not stir during the night without their permission, and
did he do so he would not go without first seeing the emperor. His
words were prophetic.
Meanwhile, the news of the terrible position of Renaud reached
Montaubon. It caused the utmost concern to all, for Renaud was dearly
beloved. The enemy being now thoroughly prepared for surprise, a rescue
by means of a sortie was out of the question. Now for the first time in
all their trials was an appeal made to Maugis to exercise his occult
powers. There was no hope for Renaud otherwise. To these pleadings
Maugis replied:
“My brothers, it is useless; I cannot, though it is possible I might
release Renaud by my secret powers. Thou shouldst remember that I have
made a solemn oath before God and man to utterly abandon and forever
give them up; not only have I made this sacred oath before man, but I
did solemnly pledge my knightly word and honor to my wife, Yolande,
that I would forget, disuse, and put by those early teachings of the
secret art forever and forever. To break my oath to God would be a
sacrilege condemning me to eternal punishment, and to break my oath to
Yolande would so dishonor me that I could never face my kind again.”
“What if Yolande would absolve thee of thine oath?” asked Alard.
“Then should I be left to face my oath to God.”
“Then Renaud must perish,” cried Richard.
“Even so,” responded Maugis sadly.
Realizing that further pleadings were in vain, the brothers sought the
tender Yolande, and told her of the terrible position of their cousin.
Much as she feared occult things, as did every one at that period, the
fate of Renaud appealed strongly to her sympathies; to feel that any
means of rescue should be used to preserve him from a horrible death at
the stake caused her to throw aside her scruples and fears; and flying
to the side of Maugis, she added her pleadings to those of the others,
and so, overcome by them all, he finally yielded his consent, sadly
depressed, though confident he could save his cousin.
It was midnight in the camp of Charlemagne; the tent where Renaud slept
calmly was silent; two knights remained on watch at the door; the rest
were reposing in sleep on their arms, ready to spring up from the
slightest alarm. A shadowy figure now appeared on the scene, gliding
noiselessly toward the door; though they looked directly at it the
guard saw it not, and when the shape glided toward them and lifted its
shadowy hand in front of their faces, they, too, joined their comrades
in slumber, sinking under a deep hypnotic spell. It was the work of a
moment for the shadow to glide within the tent and set Renaud free,
and a few moments later, unharmed and undiscovered, he was on his way
toward the castle of Montaubon.
Maugis, however, felt that he had not completed his work. Charlemagne
had that night visited his prisoner to assure himself that he was
well guarded, and had then retired; determined, however, to remain
awake, he resisted his desire to sleep until near midnight, and then
so anxious was he for revenge that he arose and gave orders that
preparations should be made for the execution at daybreak.
It was at this moment that Renaud stood erect among his sleeping
guards, stripped of his chains, and a few moments later the shadowy
figure of Maugis entered the tent of the emperor, who had meanwhile
fallen into a deep sleep. As Maugis appeared on the scene he came upon
Roland, who was endeavoring to awaken the emperor; it required but a
few passes of that shadowy hand to cause the eyes of Roland to also
close into a helpless state of somnambulance. The emperor was sleeping;
Roland slept; the guards slept; and Maugis was alone with the emperor
free to work his will. One stroke of the poignard would relieve him
at once of his persecution and his persecutor, but no thought of
committing this cowardly act possessed his noble soul. It was with the
greatest reluctance he had used his occult powers in the rescue of his
cousin. He was, however, content to humiliate the emperor and Roland,
so he took from the side of Charlemagne his sword, the sword of Roland,
famous by the name of “Durandel,” and the but little less noted sword
of Olivier, called “Haute Clair.” He also took the swords of the twelve
peers who had guarded Renaud; he hesitated not to visit the treasure of
the emperor, taking therefrom his crown, his jewels and his precious
stones; all this he bore away and placed in the hands of a faithful
shepherd nearby, promising to reward him well for his fidelity and
discretion. Once more returning to the tent of the emperor he bound him
by one leg to the bed by one of the chains which had held Renaud, and
departed noiselessly and undiscovered.
As the shadowy figure was just passing through the opening of the
tent, Charlemagne awoke, and seeing the gliding form, he recognized
the gigantic proportions of Maugis. He could hardly believe his eyes;
he sprang up and would have followed him, but it was useless; he was
retained by the chain with which Maugis had attached him to the bed.
“What ho!” he shouted.
Then he called for his attendants by name, but of Roland and all the
lords in waiting nobody responded; every one was in a profound sleep.
What had happened? then suddenly he realized that his suite had all
succumbed to the magic art of Maugis, and that all his efforts to
arouse them would be in vain, and he fell back dejected on his bed.
Maugis, having taken his departure, hastened to join the shepherd
with whom he had left the treasure, and having recommended him to
continue guarding it with care, he took once more the road to the camp
of Charlemagne; but this time, thoroughly disguised, with body bent,
and face drawn, assuming the appearance of a travel-worn pilgrim. Thus
changed he presented himself again to the emperor, who lay depressed
and consumed with rage, still bound to his bed.
“Holy father, enter thou quickly,” cried Charlemagne to the supposed
pilgrim.
“What has happened?” exclaimed the holy father; “when I was coming
hither I passed freely in and no one stopped me; all thy lords and
knights were sleeping, and there was no guard before thy tent.”
“It is the work of that sorcerer Maugis. Come hither and break the
chains which hold me prisoner.”
The pretended pilgrim approached, and after some efforts succeeded in
freeing the discomfited emperor, who, being grateful, gave him gold;
this the pilgrim did not hesitate to quickly put in his pockets.
Then the emperor discovered a small bottle containing a very clear
liquid lying upon his couch. The pilgrim would have picked it up, when
Charlemagne shouted:
“Have a care, holy father! that bottle belongs to Maugis, and without
doubt contains some death-dealing liquid, with which he intended my
destruction.”
Following these words, he dashed the vial into pieces upon the ground.
It then happened the liquid gave forth a subtle odor, which penetrated
everywhere and everyone was awakened; barons and knights, chiefs and
soldiers, all awoke and rubbed their eyes with astonishment to see the
pilgrim with the emperor, the entry of whom had aroused no one.
The emperor then recounted to his peers and courtiers what had
happened, and gave hasty orders for the immediate pursuit of the
fugitive. It chanced at this time that when the peers put their hands
down to their sides they perceived that their swords were missing,
and at this moment the guardian of the treasury rushed in, almost
breathless with excitement, and told the emperor that crown, jewels,
precious stones, and money, all had disappeared.
The emperor and the entire court were astounded, and gazed upon each
other in dismay. They were appalled by the awful power that had been
wielded against them. The emperor was the first to recover his senses.
“I will go myself in pursuit,” he shouted. “It will not be long before
we capture him; has any one seen him leave the camp, and what road hath
he taken?”
“Sire!” said the supposed pilgrim, “I can be thy guide. Coming hither,
a figure hurried by me, bearing swords and other objects in his arms,
and I know the road by which he left the camp, but thou must give me a
horse to lead thee with. I am too feeble to walk.”
A horse was secured immediately, and escorted by Charlemagne and
several knights, he started forth upon the road in pursuit of Maugis.
In the meantime, the soldiers had been aroused, and taking up their
arms followed in the rear. The pilgrim being once more on horseback
felt at his ease.
“I am not now very skillful,” said he. “I am not strong, but if you
will give me a sword, I feel I could use it once more, possibly well if
required, because in other days I used to manage a sword like a master.”
He was given a sword as he requested, and they continued upon the road.
Our pilgrim, followed by the imperial troops, now entered into a deep
gorge, a narrow passage formed on either side by inaccessible rocks.
“If thou wilt permit me, sire,” said the pilgrim, “I think we have
nearly overtaken him, and I will now march alone in advance, because if
Maugis sees me mounted upon a good horse, he will seek to capture it,
then I can summon you to my assistance, and by coming up quickly make
yourself master of this wicked sorcerer.”
This stratagem was thought to be good and the emperor approved of it.
Accordingly Maugis left them, and going some distance forward out of
their sight, hurriedly dismounted, and ascended, by means of a secret
path known only to himself, the high rock on one side of the gorge,
and appeared at the top overlooking the imperial cavalcade; then
throwing off his disguise, assumed his own form and stood erect in full
view of the astonished emperor and his knights.
“I am Maugis!” he shouted, “whom you would unjustly send to death, and
to-day I defy you once more, Charlemagne the proud! Do you recognize
here your crown and your treasures? and you, sir knights, the haughty
companions of your master, here are your swords, all in my power.
However, thou canst have them once more—if the emperor will grant peace
to the four sons of Aymon, all will be given back to you.”
Amid the furious cries of rage caused by this audacious defiance,
Maugis disappeared before their eyes.
While the pride of Charlemagne and his peers was deeply wounded,
not all the knights could restrain from laughing, secretly among
themselves, at their misadventures, for the bravery and audacity of
Maugis and his brothers had raised them highly in their estimation.
Being at last free from Charlemagne and his troops, Maugis returned
quietly to Montaubon with the treasures. He was received there with
the greatest joy, and when he showed his booty every one hastened to
congratulate him on the success of his enterprise. The wealth was taken
care of, and to the rage and mortification of Charlemagne, his golden
eagle adorned the most elevated position on the château of Montaubon,
for on the following morning when Charlemagne saw his golden eagle
resplendent in the rays of the sun, he was astounded. He called his
peers and said to them:
“We are dishonored, and we must secure ourselves at any price.”
He thereupon called the Duke de Naimes and Oger, who were relatives of
Maugis, and ordered them to go to him, and say that if he would return
what had been taken he would be granted a truce of two years.
It was an imposing procession that set out for the château Montaubon,
headed by the two knights and followed by the flower of the court, and
when they appeared before Maugis and his brothers, they were given a
cordial and gracious reception.
“Brave knights,” said Oger, “thou canst not ignore the fact that the
Duke de Naimes and myself have personally done all we could to stop
this war, and that it would have terminated long since if the emperor
had listened to our advice; this being so, we have some cause to ask
thee to return our swords into our hands, and that if thou wilt also
render all that thou hast taken from Charlemagne into our hands, he
will grant thee a truce of two years.”
“Noble lords, and sir knights,” responded Maugis, “gladly will I grant
thy request, and willingly will I return unto Charlemagne all that
has been taken from him, on the condition of two years’ truce, and I
can only hope and pray that during this time a final peace will be
concluded.”
Then Maugis gave to each knight his own sword, and put into the
possession of the Duke de Naimes all the treasure of the emperor that
had been taken from him.
The generosity and nobility of character Maugis had shown in this
matter awoke the friendly feeling and admiration of every peer of
Charlemagne’s court. Even the emperor was affected almost to tears, and
a general demand arose that the war be ended and peace be granted the
brave young men. A certain number of the courtiers went to Montaubon
and endeavored to persuade Maugis to appear again before the emperor,
now that his heart had been somewhat softened, and endeavor to secure
peace, and when Maugis, though strongly persuaded, hesitated, the Baron
de Estouville even offered to remain at Montaubon as a hostage, and the
Duke de Naimes, in behalf of all the knights present, guaranteed Maugis
should return uninjured, then Maugis, finally, decided to go, though
much against the advice of Yolande, who would have him absolutely
refuse. When the party at last set out and had covered half the
distance to the camp of Charlemagne, Oger and the Duke de Naimes, after
consulting Maugis, rode forward to see Charlemagne, in order to prepare
him for the coming interview.
Unhappily, fate seemed to pursue the dove of peace all through the
career of Maugis and his brave brothers; no sooner did the horizon
brighten for them than dark clouds would again gather and the storm
beset them more furiously than ever. In this case it was Pinabel, an
intimate of Ganelon, who, seeing what was going on, mounted his horse
and hastened to the emperor, that he might arrive there first and
prejudice him against the project of the two knights.
By making false reports, all kinds of calumnies, and above all, by
appealing to the well-known weakness in the character of Charlemagne,
his self-pride, appeals to which he was always susceptible, it hardly
needed the lies and misrepresentations in addition to persuade him that
the coming of Maugis was an insult if not a treachery.
So furious was the emperor made by the crafty deceits of Pinabel, that
he summoned Olivier, saying:
“Harken me well, and obey me. I command thee to take four hundred men
and go forward on the road to Montaubon, where thou wilt encounter the
traitor Maugis and his brother Alard, who have the supreme assurance to
insult me by coming hither. I command thee, thou shalt make them thy
prisoners, even if thou dost lose thy entire force, and fail not,” he
added sternly, “under pain of my displeasure.”
“I go, sire,” replied Olivier, who forthwith departed.
Olivier, who had no knowledge of the pledge given by Oger and the Duke
de Naimes, assembled his troops quickly and departed on his mission.
It was at the very moment he left that Oger and his noble companion
arrived to announce to the emperor the result of their embassy.
“Sire,” said Oger, “we have come to announce to thee that Maugis and
his brother Alard are on their way hither to sue thee for peace; almost
without exception the peers of thy court are lost in admiration of the
nobility of character and the bravery of these young men. Sire, it is
our devotion to thee, as well, that leads us to wish a reconciliation,
that this cruel war may be ended with honor to both parties; we beseech
thee, then, sire, to listen to their penitencies and grant them again
thy favor, and be assured, sire, it will be an act to add to thy
renown, and will be another instance of thy greatness of character.”
“Thou hast gone too far,” said the emperor coldly.
At these words the brave old soldier hesitated not to face the emperor
and declared flatly:
“Sire! though our act may give thee displeasure, it was committed in
the interest of justice and through devotion to thine own interests.
It was the Duke de Naimes who has caused them to visit thee on the
guarantee of our word of honor that they should be protected; rather
than that be violated, I will, myself, if necessary, at the head of my
own men, protect him from any one who shall put the least insult upon a
man I now regard as a common friend.”
During this time Olivier had proceeded along the road until he
encountered Maugis, who was marching alone, without arms, leading
Bayard peacefully at the head of his escort. On seeing Olivier and
his troops, Maugis turned quickly to the Archbishop Turpin and De
Estonville, saying:
“You have betrayed me, behold the troops that come to make me prisoner.”
“We have not betrayed you,” replied the knights, and De Estonville
added:
“God forfend us from committing such a vile infamy, and to prove it we
will join in your defense, and will fight for you to the death.”
While they were having this discussion, Roland dashed up to sustain
Olivier. The three knights, however, were determined to treat the
affair with resolution, advancing to within a hundred paces of the
opposing force, and shouting:
“Roland! stop, I pray you, in the name of honor, in the name of our
word pledged, that not any injury shall befall Maugis and Alard, if
they would visit the emperor and sue for peace.”
Olivier, who had left at the head of his troops against the dictates
of his own heart to fulfill the mission for the emperor, was the first
to accept this explanation joyfully, in which he was quickly joined by
Roland, who said:
“We join you, with our brave companions; not only will we not arrest
you, but if Maugis wishes we will all accompany you direct to the tent
of Charlemagne. We could not do otherwise; we are all united in the
same thought that Maugis should be accorded peace, plain and entire,
and now is the time to have this miserable war terminated.”
In saying this, Roland uttered the sincere sentiments of his heart
toward Maugis, having always found him so brave, so loyal, and so
true, and he could not restrain from testifying to his feelings on
this occasion. Entirely reassured by this friendliness, Maugis yielded
himself into their hands, and they all, once more, took up their march
for the camp.
On their arrival the emperor greeted them with a stern brow, and his
face flushed with anger; a great hush fell upon the assembled company
and an embarrassing silence ensued that was of ominous portent. Oger
would have spoken, but Charlemagne, with an imperious gesture, stopped
him, saying in a voice hoarse with passion:
“Silence! I am your master, let it suffice, once for all that I have
decided that this traitor Maugis shall be punished like a rebel, as he
is, and this time he shall not escape me.”
“Sire, that we shall not willingly permit,” responded the veteran Oger,
fearlessly gazing into the face of Charlemagne. “No! it shall not be
said we have given our word in vain; our honor is above all and unto
the gravest consequences, understand, we shall defend him against you.”
At these defiant words a great hush fell upon the assembled courtiers,
and so intense was the moment that not a word was said, while
Charlemagne sat with eyes blazing, clutching his robe in his hands too
amazed for utterance.
It was at this moment that Maugis, perceiving a situation so tense
would evidently lead to a conflict, advanced and modestly addressing
the emperor, said:
“Sire! I have complied with all the conditions you have imposed
upon me. I have not swerved from a single point. I came here alone,
without arms, on the faith of these brave knights to ratify with you
the basis of a peace. What reproaches can I merit for this? If I have
fought against thee, it is because thou hast incessantly pursued me;
because thou hast tracked me like a wild beast, and all because at the
beginning I refused to sustain thee in a war where my honor commanded
me to remain neutral. Ah, sire!” earnestly pleaded Maugis, “reflect,
examine my actions well; judge my conduct with impartiality, and thou
wilt end in rendering me the justice which is my due.”
It needed but these firm and modest words to add to the evident signs
of disapproval on the part of his courtiers to convince Charlemagne
that he had gone too far; that with but few exceptions his entire court
was against him, and that if he continued his policy there would be
no other outcome than his own humiliation, if not defeat. Quick of
resource, however, he pondered but a moment before he made reply, and
turning to Maugis, said:
“Art thou prepared to make thy cause good, in single combat arms in
hand?”
This change in the aspect of the subject by an appeal to a single
combat was a happy thought; it restored the emperor in the opinion of
his knights and offered a solution of the differences customary and
honorable in those warlike times. Maugis, on his part, hailing any
prospects to secure peace with joy, promptly answered:
“Right willingly, sire, will I accept thy challenge; and all I ask is,
that the Archbishop Turpin, Oger, the Duke de Naimes and Olivier will
be my seconds.”
The knights mentioned immediately gave their consent. Maugis was at
once liberated. Here Roland came forward, saying:
“Sire! I beg thee that I may be allowed to take thy place in the coming
duel.”
“I cannot consent,” responded Charlemagne.
“And it please thy majesty,” cried Maugis, “right willingly will I
accept him as thy substitute.”
“Then be it so,” replied Charlemagne.
Maugis then quickly mounted his horse, saluted all present, departed,
having previously taken leave of his new friends, all promising to meet
at the rendezvous fixed for the duel on the following day.
Upon the return of Maugis to Montaubon, his people, thinking peace
had been concluded, greeted him with congratulations and rejoicings;
he only pausing long enough on it to thank them warmly, hastened to
Yolande, who from the time of his departure had suffered a constant
inquietude; after reassuring her, he turned to his brothers, saying:
“My friends, on the morrow I go to engage in a most terrible combat
with one of the bravest of knights. Shall I conquer? I know not! If I
succumb, in the name of the love which you have always had for me, I
commend to your care my wife and my children; save them from the rage
of Charlemagne. I have right on my side. My courage is equal to that of
Roland. I have confidence in divine justice, but against all that I may
fall.”
At these words everyone had tears in their eyes though they tried to
conceal them, and the three brothers of Maugis insisted that Renaud
should be left in command of Montaubon while they accompanied him to
the field of the combat.
CHAPTER XIV.
When the next day had come, Roland early sought the emperor to take
leave of him. He was armed and ready to depart, but before quitting he
besought Charlemagne to have the grace to accord to Maugis and the four
sons of Aymon the peace they had so long asked for, no matter what the
issue of the coming combat might be, but Charlemagne, though depressed
by sad reflections and by the thought of the evil consequences that had
come from the bad advice he had received, made no reply.
A little later, when Maugis arrived on the field, he found Roland
already there. It was a superb day; the renown of the two knights,
their bravery, and their skill with arms, made the outcome of the
duel uncertain. A vast concourse of knights had assembled to witness
the contest, and a deep hush of expectancy fell upon all when the two
knights advanced toward each other on the field to begin the duel.
“I am now here,” said Roland, addressing Maugis, “to lay you in the
dust; you have thought yourself invincible long enough; but to-day you
will find that I am your master.”
“Be moderate, Roland,” replied Maugis; “one is never sure, even the
bravest knight may be overcome by one weaker than himself.”
“I will maintain my word, I think, Maugis,” shouted Roland; “defend
yourself, for your last hour is come.”
At these words they charged each other, lance at rest, with great
fury. At the very first shock the lances were shattered, and their
shields were broken. Roland wavered in his saddle, and with difficulty
maintained himself erect, while Maugis, unhorsed, fell twenty steps
behind Bayard; but he was on his feet like a flash, and he mounted his
horse with incredible agility, and sweeping down upon Roland, gave
him a terrible blow with his sword, which, landing on his helmet,
completely stunned him. Maugis, however, withdrew, giving him time to
recover, and then they rushed anew at each other. Now ensued a battle
of giants, which no words can adequately describe; the spectators
were appalled by its ferocity; the dreadful blows they dealt each
other were slowly denuding them of their armor piece by piece; sparks
flew like lightning from the terrible flashing of their swords; but
furious as the combat was, so skillful were they each, that neither
one could deal the other a fatal blow. It was a magnificent contest,
evoking cries of admiration from all sides; there could be but one
end to their terrible exertion; becoming fatigued, they seized each
other body to body and tried to throw each the other from his horse.
It was impossible; breathless and almost helpless with fatigue,
mutually astonished that neither could conquer the other, they waited
a few moments to regain breath, each so battered as to be almost
unrecognizable, they having left only fragments of their arms and but a
few pieces of their clothing.
The onlookers to this heroic duel felt they would like to have the
fight ended then and there, and were so evenly divided by admiration
for each of the combatants that they could not say whom they would have
the victor. The emperor himself, all his sympathies aroused, felt that
he would even give his crown to have the fight ended here, and was
about to shout an order to have the duel stopped as the two combatants
approached each other to recommence the battle.
Before he could utter a sound, however, an astonishing sight greeted
his eyes. Instead of beginning hostilities as they neared each other,
the two knights, as if with one common impulse and actuated by the same
sentiment, let their arms fall and then and there embraced each other.
Maugis said to Roland:
“Brave cousin! you have shown the greatest courage; neither one of us
can conquer the other; we each seem to have the same strength, the
same skill, and the same courage. God never made us to be enemies, but
to be friends; let it be so. Come to Montaubon and be my guest; you
will receive there all the consideration, honor and respect that are
due you.”
The spectators had lost nothing of this scene; a great demonstration
of applause ensued, and cheer after cheer rent the air when the two
knights were seen to embrace. Two men only did not participate in the
public joy; they were Pinabel, the scheming nephew of Charlemagne, and
Ganelon, his traitorous associate.
“What means this?” said the astonished emperor.
“Simply this,” replied Pinabel: “by some vile sorcery Maugis hath
ensnared Roland and is bearing him to Montaubon.”
“By St. Gris!” roared the emperor, furious. “I will never brook such
insult, on to Montaubon! on to Montaubon!” he shouted to his knights.
“I will take Roland by force from the hands of this rebel Maugis.”
But the confusion in which the spectators and knights were mingled
made it impossible to execute immediately any hostile movement of this
kind, and Charlemagne, fuming and almost blind with rage, was forced
to see Roland depart with Maugis, and he returned to his camp with
the determination to draw a cordon around the walls of Montaubon and
commence an immediate siege.
Meanwhile, Maugis, accompanied by Roland, and escorted by his brothers,
had quietly entered the citadel, where Roland was received with all
honors, and was greeted on all hands as the first knight of the world.
It was a singular situation the enraged Charlemagne had to meet;
continually stirred with rage by the evil advisers who had his ear on
one hand, and on the other hand urged by the influential men of his
court, who, lost in admiration of the brave struggle of the four sons
of Aymon, regarded an honorable peace to them to be the proper course
for the emperor to pursue. The next day, a delegation of knights waited
upon him and stated that it was the general demand that such should
be granted; they so appealed to the good sense of Charlemagne that he
would have undoubtedly, then and there, yielded and acquiesced to the
general demand.
Never had the position of the conspirators who had heretofore been
successful in preventing the good understanding between Charlemagne and
the four sons of Aymon been so perilous. The Abbé Gorieux, Ganelon and
Pinabel held a hasty consultation.
“Now what shall be done,” said Ganelon, biting his lips.
“It is hopeless! I cannot see that anything can be done,” said Pinabel,
grinding his teeth and clinching his hands, for he had a consuming
hatred of Maugis, that one of his vile character could only have of
a nature more noble. Within him hate had fed upon hate, until his one
thought was how to wreak vengeance upon its object.
“Delay, my friend; our hope is in delay,” the smooth voice of the
crafty abbé interposed. “Do thou now, Pinabel, influence the emperor to
postpone his decision in this matter; it will give us chance to work
our ends; indeed, it is our only hope,” he added despairingly.
Pinabel at once hurried to the emperor, saying:
“Sire, grant this peace, which is no doubt the proper course to pursue,
for such a great war is surely impious,” he added hypocritically;
“therefore, it indeed were well to grant the peace we all desire, only
decide not hastily; take all means to assure thyself that this course
will be appreciated by the rebellious sons of Aymon, that they will
faithfully fulfill all conditions you may impose, and properly carry
out the penances it is right they should suffer; what these conditions
should be, what penances proper, it would be foolish to hastily decide;
let us therefore use deliberation, that the realization of all our
hopes, the peace that is so dear to us all, may be secured upon a firm
and unchangeable basis.”
This apparently candid, disinterested advice deceived the emperor, and
he put off making a decision that day. Then the old scheme, which had
succeeded so often before, was brought into use. The emperor, however,
was not so easily worked upon as he had formerly been; he, himself, had
become tired with the war and strife, and although excessively enraged
by his inability to conquer the redoubtable knights D’Aymon, and by
their continued humiliation of him, he was too wise a monarch not to
see the advantage of an honorable peace. Consequently the task of the
conspirators was no light one.
All day long one or another of the conspirators sought him, each
dropping some poisoned suggestion in his ear, calculated to arouse his
anger and cast doubt upon the honorable intentions of Maugis and his
brothers. There was not wanting insinuations that Maugis was a minion
of Satan, and that the very existence of so powerful a sorcerer was not
only a threat to the life and well-being of the emperor, but to the
very kingdom itself.
“He should be promptly and utterly destroyed,” declared Ganelon.
“Sire,” added Pinabel persuasively, “admitting the truth, is, that
these fears are due to our personal devotion to you, which lead us to
suggest them, and supposing even that our anticipations are due to an
ardent zeal, surely the pardon you propose to grant the sons of Aymon
would establish a bad precedent. Who knows?”
“They have not feared to be false to their oath to their prince; they
have revolted and openly made war on you; can any one sustain the
example of the sons of Aymon? Each one invites your pardon only to
serve his own ends. You will, of course, sire, do what seemeth best in
your great wisdom; but even if thou dost pardon the four sons of Aymon,
one of them should be given up to thee for punishment.”
If Charlemagne, thus persuaded by the conspirators, had discussed this
advice in the presence of all, there can be no doubt the result of
these negotiations for peace would have been far different from that
which followed.
The next day the emperor, when everybody was assembled, the peers and
all the courtiers and the four brothers, declared to the sons of Aymon
that he had decided to pardon them.
“I have one proviso,” said the emperor firmly, “that is, after thou
hast fulfilled thy promises, thou shall deliver thy Cousin Renaud into
my hands to be punished as an example. This is my final decision, and
nought shall change it.”
“Ah, well, sire,” cried Maugis sadly; “if this is all that thou wilt
yield there can be no more said. I regret only that our humble prayers
for thy pardon have not prevailed. We never would deliver Renaud to
you, because our honor is opposed to it, and because there never was
yet an Aymon who would purchase peace at the price of infamy and
cowardice.”
Maugis and his brothers, then saluting the emperor with the most
profound respect, withdrew.
Charlemagne, now giving himself up entirely to his vindictive feelings,
his rage for vengeance now paramount, summoned his council of state and
outlined the course he had decided to follow; he ordered preparations
to be made immediately for a general assault. The troops were to be
assembled completely armed, under the walls of Montaubon, and the
machines of war for hurling stones, catapaults and battering rams, were
to be at once transported thither.
Maugis, on his part, knowing what was coming, was not inactive; he
placed his soldiers behind the ramparts to the best advantage to resist
attack.
The next day at sunrise the assault occurred, made with great vigor.
Maugis allowed them to approach, place their scaling ladders, and
even to commence to mount them, then at a given signal they by united
effort created great havoc and carnage among them by pouring upon them
boiling oil, and by burying them beneath a quantity of enormous stones;
still the enemy persisted and the assault continued fiercely; but such
was the awful slaughter of his troops, that at the end of an hour,
the emperor, dismayed by his losses, ordered a retreat and re-entered
the camp, followed by his depleted legions. He had suffered not only
defeat, but disaster.
This experience taught the emperor that Montaubon could never be
taken by assault, and he thereupon determined to blockade the château
so vigorously, and by famine reducing its inhabitants to the last
extremity, force them to capitulate. In fact, hunger had already
commenced to worry them, and only a short time after this siege began
the awful specter of starvation stared them in the face, and soon
thereafter, men, women, and children were lying around exhausted with
hunger, and striving to prolong their existence by eating the buds and
roots of the trees.
Famine, with all its horrors, was upon them, but still the impenetrable
cordon remained encircling them, and the conspirators heard with
vindictive glee of the terrible straits of the inhabitants of the
castle.
The situation of the people behind the ramparts of Montaubon was truly
desperate. They were forced to devour all kinds of living animals and
even insects, and at a point where everything seemed exhausted, to add
to the horror, a pest followed, which threatened to decimate completely
the miserable population.
Some appealed to Maugis once more to exercise his magic power to
deliver them, but he firmly refused, saying:
“I have already incurred the wrath of God by such efforts; not only did
I violate solemn oaths that I made, by practices condemned by the wise
and the good, but instead of relief, it brought only new misfortunes. I
will have no more of it; rather than that I would prefer death, but I
will never yield.”
The majority of his captains supported Maugis in his determination not
to surrender. They were undismayed by the horrors surrounding them.
Said Maugis:
“If I were the only victim demanded by the emperor, to save you I would
gladly surrender; but you know that if we yield we shall all be put
to the sword. We have no quarter to expect from Charlemagne; we must
continue to resist.”
These words encouraged his men and caused them to be resigned to
further suffering.
The awful suffering and carnage occurring within the château of
Montaubon moved the hearts of all of Charlemagne’s court. All the
lords, with the aged Duke d’Aymon at their head, went to demand grace
for the besieged from Charlemagne, but he peremptorily refused, and
when they supplicated him he answered by ordering an assault.
Thus to the horrors of siege and famine was added the horrors of war.
Great masses of rock, hurled into the château by the catapaults and
besieging machines, crushed out the lives of many of its inhabitants.
In the midst of these adversities Maugis was ever sustained by his
noble wife, who always preserved her serenity and courage.
Richard, who realized that each day rendered their power of resistance
less possible, urged that they surrender.
“No,” replied Maugis, “let us continue to resist. Something within me
tells me that we yet shall be saved.”
Charlemagne, now seeing the weakened condition of his enemy, resolved
to end it all by a single blow. Taking some of his choicest troops, a
determined assault was made upon the fortress, but once more he met
defeat. The feeble garrison, gathering all the force that remained in
them, repulsed the besiegers victoriously; and hurled them into the
castle moat.
Meantime the situation had become so desperate that Maugis, usually
so resigned and patient, even commenced to despair; but he would not
think of surrendering, death rather than that, and he made the resolve
to retreat to the citadel of the fortress with his brothers and those
belonging to him; then set it on fire and perish in the flames, first
giving the inhabitants their liberty to surrender, or do otherwise, as
it might seem best to them.
“Loved one,” said Yolande, “what thou deemest best is best. I have
followed thee in life. I will follow thee in death, for life without
thee would be death; and here, embracing her two sons, her mother’s
heart nearly succumbed; that they should perish was indeed a cruel
blow, but choking back her tears she said, in firm tones:
“Let it be so!”
The three brothers of Maugis, and Renaud likewise, agreed that to
perish was the only thing left for them.
At this juncture an aged man was ushered to their presence. Said he:
“Most noble lord! many years ago, ’tis said, there stood a fortress
upon this mountain, even where Montaubon now stands, and methinks I
have heard my father’s father tell how in the old days there did a
subterranean passage exist which led from hither and opened into the
forest of the Serpante yonder, beyond the lines of Charlemagne. Find
this and we are saved.”
“Knowest thou where the opening is?” demanded Maugis.
“Alas!” responded the old man sadly, “I know not; it be only one of the
forgotten memories of the tales of my youth, renewed in my mind by much
suffering.”
At these words the hopes that were raised in the hearts of all who
heard were dashed to the earth.
“Did such a passage exist, where could it be found?” It was more than
probable that, choked by _débris_, it had been built over by the solid
walls of the new château, and even if it had ever existed was now
thoroughly hidden.
“Use thine occult powers!” whispered Yolande.
Then Maugis and the little company proceeded to make a thorough
exploration of the castle, visiting in succession all of its towers and
subterranean parts.
In every underground passage and room Maugis would pause, and standing
erect, with arm outstretched, slowly sweep a circle about him, when it
was complete only to drop his hand and bow his head, saying:
“I find nothing.”
Hope seemed to have left them, there was only one more place to visit,
one of the towers at the northeast part of the ramparts, known as “Tour
de la Bellevue.” Here, in its subterranean depths, the little company
assembled for the last trial, pausing breathless with expectancy, while
Maugis closed his eyes and slowly made the mystic circle around the
torch-lighted room. When half-complete, he paused and a look of hope
stole over his face; once more he swept the circle and again paused at
the same point; a third time did he repeat this motion, then opening
his eyes, with joy lighting his face, he said:
“It is here.”
Tools were hurriedly brought, digging commenced, and at the end of
an hour the passage opening stood revealed. Richard went forward to
explore it, while the rest hastened upward to make preparations there
for immediate departure. Nearly overcome with joy, to think not only
would they succeed in escaping from Charlemagne, but in mystifying him
as well.
In the meantime, Richard having returned with the joyful news that the
passage was all clear, Maugis summoned his people, and distributed
torches among them, and giving the stronger the more precious objects
to carry, started them under the leadership of Richard on their journey
though the passage.
Maugis hastened to his tower, where in the hurry and excitement of his
departure, Yon, his brother-in-law, was lying forgotten, confined to
his bed by a sickness which had affected him ever since his treason.
Maugis was about to lift him in his arms to bear him away, when Alard
said:
“Let him lie. He is the cause of all our misfortunes.”
“He is culpable, that is true,” replied Maugis, “but he is miserable,
and that is claim enough upon us not to abandon him;” and with these
words he took the suffering king and bore him away among the others.
At sunset they had made the passage of the tunnel safely and came out
into the forest. A little later they entered another forest called
“D’Arsene,” under the leadership of the old man, who conducted them to
the abiding place of an old hermit, whose store of food illy sufficed
for the wants of the famished people, and who, exhausted, here stopped
all further progress and ate whatever they could find. The soldiers
threw themselves upon the surrounding foliage and devoured it. By great
good fortune they then encountered some shepherds with their flocks,
and Maugis having bought sheep to feed the famished people, and having
fully satisfied their voracious hunger, they rested during the whole of
the succeeding day and the day following.
Maugis, with an escort, then rode on in advance to the city of
Dordogne, where, when they learned of his arrival, the inhabitants
came out to meet him, with cheers and cries of joy. The enthusiasm
soon penetrated throughout the city and its environs, and that day, at
least, everybody was rejoicing. The next day Maugis received the oaths
of fealty of the lords from all the surrounding country.
For eight days nobody had appeared on the ramparts of Montaubon,
visible to the camp of Charlemagne. The emperor decided that everyone
must have succumbed, that the fortress could be entered without
danger, and when a short time afterward Roland, Olivier, and the
Duke de Naimes rode in, having battered down the great gate, they
were greeted everywhere with silence. Everywhere in the city and the
fortress decaying bodies were lying about, unburied, emitting the most
pestilential odors, which finally became so great they were forced to
retreat. In vain they searched for Maugis and his brothers. It was
impossible to find them.
Maugis was very soon apprised that Charlemagne had occupied Montaubon
and was sorely tempted to besiege him in retaliation and submit him to
the same tortures he had suffered. But in this he was deterred by the
conscientious Yolande, who said:
“While thine oath of fealty might permit thee to defend thyself, if
attacked by him, it will surely be a violation of it if thou dost
attack him.”
Meanwhile, the principal lords of the court could not conceal their joy
at the escape of the sons of Aymon, and later, when the scouts sent in
all directions to discover their whereabouts reported to the emperor
that they had retired to Dordogne, where they had raised a formidable
army, the emperor at once gave orders to raise the camp.
He directed the march of his army to Montorgueil, a few leagues from
Dordogne, persisting in his vindictiveness in attacking the sons of
Aymon anew.
Learning of this movement, Maugis would not this time suffer himself
to be besieged the way he was at Montaubon. He mounted his horse
and set out to meet the enemy, having first said to his soldiers in
a proclamation that personally he would not enter a fight against
Charlemagne, but for the fact he desired to give them an opportunity to
avenge those dear ones they had lost.
Arriving at a short distance from the imperial army, Maugis stopped and
sent forward his esquire, bearing a piece of olive branch to demand
peace of the emperor.
This envoy was badly received by the emperor, who greeted him with
harsh words and insults, and gave orders to commence the attack.
Maugis, then feeling he had exhausted every resource, made a fierce
charge upon the first knights, who had come forward to obey the order
of Charlemagne, hurling them lifeless at the feet of the emperor. Then
retiring he headed his soldiers, and uttering the war-cry of Dordogne,
made an irresistible charge on the troops of Charlemagne, who wavered
and broke and were thrown into confusion. The Duke de Naimes, seeing
this, seized the golden banner, and placing himself at the head of the
royal army, tried to rally them; but it was hopeless, they were fast
disappearing under the fierce assaults of the soldiers of Maugis. They
had nearly succeeded in surrounding the emperor, who was only saved by
the quickness of Roland, when the signal for retreat was given.
This signal everyone obeyed, except the brave Richard de Normandie,
who, oblivious to all else, could not endure the thought of defeat,
and tried to cut off the troops of Maugis just before the gates of
Dordogne, an attempt in which he did not succeed.
Profiting by the ardor of the duke, Maugis hurried the retreat of his
troops, causing them to rush pellmell into the city, tempting Richard,
obstinate in his pursuit, to follow, thinking his enemies to be
demoralized. This strategic move was successful. Getting Richard once
inside of the gates, Maugis caused them to be closed and guarded behind
them, making him a prisoner, and seeing that resistance was useless,
Richard de Normandie and his men were forced to surrender.
The loss of this new battle added more to the grief and rage of
Charlemagne and stimulated him still further in his relentless pursuit
of the sons of Aymon.
As both sides required some little time to recuperate from the battle,
several days passed without an engagement. It was during this period of
quiet that King Yon died, in great suffering. Consumed with regrets,
he begged Maugis and his brothers to forgive him for all the evil they
had endured through his fault. He confirmed to Maugis the donations of
Montaubon and its dependencies, and drew his last breath in the arms
of his brother-in-law, who mourned him as sincerely as if he had never
been guilty of a vile treachery.
After the obsequies, in which the entire army took part, Maugis
proceeded actively to strengthen the defenses of the city in case of
an attack from the waiting enemy. It was during this period of the
cessation of hostilities that an extraordinary incident occurred.
Maugis was an adept at assuming disguises, and one day he determined to
visit the camp of Charlemagne; perfectly fearless as to the possible
result of his perilous mission, he set out, having taken the shape
of an old knight, infirm and miserable, and entered the camp of the
emperor, leaning heavily on his staff. So sorry was his aspect that the
sentinels made fun of him.
“Ho! ho!” shouted one of them after him. “Hast thou come to take the
city?”
This jibe was greeted with roars of laughter. Passing onward quietly,
the old knight made no reply. As he proceeded, Pinabel, seated in front
of his tent, laughed at him and sneeringly inquired:
“Ho! brave knight, hast thou come to fight Roland?”
Maugis, nettled by the insolence of the knight, replied:
“Roland has done nothing to me, therefore I have no reason to fight
him, but if you will try it with me, I will punish you for your insult
and your cowardice, for all the world knows you are bravest only when
you are dealing with some one whom you think is incapable of defending
himself. Only for that, you never would have dared to insult me and my
white hairs.”
Pinabel, furious, seized a picket and would have struck the old knight,
when Oger, who arrived on the scene, separated them.
“He insulted me,” said the supposed old man.
“He had the audacity to doubt my courage,” cried Pinabel.
“Thou art wrong, Pinabel,” responded Oger, “and this man may demand of
you any reparation he may require.”
“I know of no other reparation than to fight me,” answered Maugis, “or
else I will publish him to all the world as a coward.”
By this time a crowd of soldiers and knights had gathered around the
contending parties, and the noise of the altercation had reached the
ears of Charlemagne, who caused them to be summoned before him.
“Who art thou?” demanded he of Maugis.
“Sire,” replied he. “I am Sieur de la Perron of Château Raucourt, who
having been to the holy land, where I did battle with the Saracens, do
now wend my weary way homeward, that I may pass my remaining days in
peace. The knight here present has insulted me,” he continued, “without
cause, and when I gave him the provocation in return, he, instead of
accepting battle, threw himself upon me with a stick, and but for the
timely appearance of this noble lord,” indicating Oger, “I should have
been struck by the scoundrel.”
“Pinabel is undoubtedly wrong,” said Charlemagne. “But if you persist
in fighting how will you defend yourself? He is young and vigorous, and
you are on the borders of the grave.”
“It is true, sire, I am paralyzed on my right side, but I can rely upon
my left arm. Do you think I shall allow that to stand in the way if my
adversary is willing to fight?”
This strange statement put Pinabel in a very false position; to accept
was an act of cowardice, and to refuse would make him a laughing stock.
He was at a loss what to do.
The old knight grew impatient, and insisted the fight take place,
approaching and menacing Pinabel with his cudgel, and seeing this,
Charlemagne was forced to order the combat.
Pinabel, now exasperated, drew his sword and rushed at the defenseless
old knight, but he stepped aside with great dexterity, avoiding the
shock, and then turned with incredible quickness and gave his adversary
such a heavy blow on the wrist with his staff that he dropped his
sword. A second blow in the stomach sent him tumbling to the feet of
Charlemagne. Then placing his foot on Pinabel’s throat, the old knight
menaced him with his staff, held aloft in his left hand. The now
thoroughly frightened Pinabel, trembling for his life, implored the
grace of his conqueror, who permitted him to arise while he regarded
him with contempt.
The emperor and all the knights greatly marveled. Maugis was then
permitted to visit the camp, of which privilege he was not slow to
avail himself, making a thorough inspection throughout.
In passing again the tent of Pinabel, upon leaving, reassured by the
fact that his disguise had not been penetrated thus far, he determined
to play him a trick. It can be readily conceived that Pinabel was not
charmed by his visit, and he forthwith ordered his esquires to seize
the old man and bind him solidly. But when they attempted to do so
Maugis hypnotized them, and so benumbed them they appeared to be almost
asleep, and when he approached Pinabel, the coward was so appalled at
the manifestations of a power so little known at that remote age, and
doubly terrified at being alone with the old knight, that he fell to
his knees and supplicated him for pardon.
“I will spare thy life,” said the old knight in a terrible voice. “It
hath no value in my eyes; heaven hath condemned thee.”
Pinabel at these words raised his eyes, and there recognized that
Maugis, the terrible warrior sorcerer, stood before him. The coward
would have cried out, but his tongue was paralyzed and the sounds died
upon his lips, his limbs seemed stricken, and with a look of anguish on
his face he fell in a heap.
Maugis, much pleased to have given the coward this fright, left the
camp and arrived safely at the city of Dordogne.
CHAPTER XV.
The captivity of the Duke de Normandie was insupportable to
Charlemagne, for he was one of his bravest and most redoubtable
knights. The emperor complained bitterly to his peers and raved like a
man out of his senses at the infamy of Maugis in retaining his prisoner.
“Consider, sire,” responded Roland to him, “it seems to me that Maugis
is perfectly right, and I am astonished that you fail to recognize
it. He would be pushing his generosity to blindness if he allowed
Richard to go. Do you not remember how grandly Maugis has acted in the
past, and with what admiration he has inspired us all? How he gave
you back your crown and your treasures; how he returned to each of us
our swords, which he had a perfect right to keep? Can you not see in
these actions not only generosity, but grandeur of soul of the highest
degree? Alas! how have you returned these acts of greatness? You
tightened the cordon around Montaubon and besieged him anew with such
vigor that only a few soldiers and their families escaped. The rest of
the inhabitants died of famine or of pest. You have pursued him with
bitterness and sought to take him alive that you might make him suffer
the most rigorous punishment. If he captured the Duke Richard, was the
duke not pursuing him to the very entrance of the city, in order to
capture him and deliver him to you? Again, do you not remember what you
would have done to his brother Richard, when you had him in your power?
That he escaped death was certainly not due to your pardon, but because
Maugis wrested him from the hands of his executioners.”
“Of what avail to thus recount the past?” demanded Charlemagne uneasily.
“Simply this, sire!” continued Roland boldly. “If Maugis should release
the Duke de Normandie, I should tax him of folly. I am surprised he has
been so lenient as not to execute him at once, and if you would save
him from that fate, it would be best for you to take immediate steps by
granting Maugis those conditions of peace he has so long desired.
“Never!” cried Charlemagne obstinately.
“Sire, I beseech thee, reflect,” persuaded Roland. “Reverse your
decision and do not seek to further abuse the magnanimity of a man so
brave as Maugis. Grant him, therefore, sire, peace. I ask it of you in
the name of all your most noble knights.”
These sincere words at last produced on Charlemagne the most profound
impression. He thereupon charged Oger and the Duke de Naimes to go
to Maugis and offer him peace on condition of the surrender of the
Duke Richard de Normandie, only he clung tenaciously to his first idea
concerning Renaud. He still insisted that Renaud should be delivered to
him. It was in vain his peers represented to him that this condition
would be refused as it had been in the past; but he turned a deaf ear
to them, and still persisted in his resolutions.
At this moment Pinabel, who had recovered from his fright, came running
up.
“Beware,” cried he. “Know thou that the old knight, who yesterday
enchanted me by his magical powers; the pilgrim whom you have fed, the
infirm and paralyzed knight whom you congratulated yesterday on the
result of the combat, are one and the same man, and that man is Maugis.”
At first they were all incredulous, but Charlemagne finally divined the
truth; but beyond creating astonishment it made no impression upon him.
He turned to Oger and De Naimes, and bade them go at once to Maugis and
lay before him his proposition.
The ambassadors at once proceeded to Dordogne, and in due time were
presented to Maugis, who gave them a cordial reception.
The Duke de Naimes laid before him the proposals of the emperor.
“Charlemagne has not departed at all from his original conditions,”
said Maugis in reply. “It is always the same. I would never deliver up
my cousin Renaud. An Aymon is incapable of such cowardice. He asks for
the Duke de Normandie—does he suppose I have lost all my bitterness?
No, the oppression of the emperor has hardened my heart. I am unpitying
now. The Duke Richard shall suffer execution, and you, sir knights,”
he added sternly, “if you ever come before me again and insult me with
such infamous propositions I will treat you as traitors and spies.”
The three envoys upon hearing this firm response turned away without a
word, provoked that the emperor would not recognize the noble character
of this man. They remounted their horses and returned to the camp,
where they repeated to him the words of Maugis, and swore to him that
he was now thoroughly angered, but Charlemagne seemed to be blind to
the qualities of such a brave man.
“Take care, sire!” cried Oger, “Maugis has been brave and generous up
to this day, but if he has lost his patience he will likely be severe
to the other extreme. Richard de Normandie is now in his hands, who can
guarantee he will be the only victim?”
Charlemagne reflected at this in silence, and was about to order Oger
and Roland to return to Maugis, when Pinabel once again intervened and
prevented the utterance of this good thought.
“It is difficult for me to see, sir knights,” said he, “why you all
seem to be in such fear of Maugis. That he is a brave man is true, but
why should the emperor retrace his steps? Do you not remember that
Maugis has demanded peace several times? Well! do you think that he
would dare to touch a hair of the Duke de Normandie? He knows too well
it would be the departure for him of the last chance of either pardon
or mercy.”
This subtle advice, so harmonious to the prejudices of the emperor, had
the effect intended by Pinabel and the coterie of cowardly courtiers
who sympathized with him and who applauded the emperor when he uttered
these words:
“Enough! I do not know why I have been so weak as to bother with these
rebels. I can clearly see that if I commence to cede anything I can
continue to do so. Go,” said he, turning to the Duke de Naimes, “and
signify my will to Maugis, and say to him that the end of this day ends
every chance for him to secure any conditions of grace from me if he
does not submit to my conditions.”
Understanding at the outset that his mission would be a failure, and
thoroughly disgusted by the weakness of the emperor, the Duke de Naimes
declared shortly:
“Your majesty, I refuse to accept the mission,” and then withdrew from
the audience.
While this discussion was occurring at the imperial camp, Maugis was
deliberating with his three brothers as to the fate of the Duke de
Normandie. His associates would have him suffer the same fate as
that to which Charlemagne had condemned one or the other of them.
Accordingly, Maugis gave orders that preparations should be made for
the execution, and to give it proper effect, that it should take
place from the highest tower of Dordogne, in full view of the camp of
Charlemagne.
These preparations were no sooner commenced than they were perceived
by Roland, who guarded that side, and he hurried immediately to the
emperor, filled with indignation.
“Sire,” said he, “is this the way you recompense the Duke Richard
for his devotion to you? If this be the way you recognize faithful
services, it will be but little encouragement to those who remain with
you. I swear for myself that I thought to see more generosity on your
part.”
“Have no fears, Roland,” replied the emperor lightly; “these
preparations, which cause thee so much uneasiness, are merely a threat;
they are simply a means employed by Maugis to force us to come to terms
of peace. As for the Duke Richard, rest assured, I have no fears for
his life.”
The next day, when everything was complete, the brave and fearless
Richard de Normandie sat in a strong room over the citadel of Dordogne,
engaged in a game of chess with Yon, the eldest son of Maugis, when two
officers with a guard appeared and announced they had come to bring
him to execution. He paid no attention to them, but calmly continued
his game.
“My lord,” said the officer respectfully, “it is very painful to me to
interrupt thy game with this summons, but I have my orders, and must
execute them.”
Suddenly, and without warning, Richard leaped to his feet, and seizing
the heavy chessboard and using it as a weapon, he fell upon the guard
with such suddenness and fury that four of them were stretched lifeless
on the floor and the rest were driven from the room. Then he seated
himself and ranging the men upon the chessboard, continued the game
as calmly as if he had not been interrupted, calling his servants
and ordering them to remove the bodies of the soldiers with all the
coolness that he would command some small service.
The young son of Maugis was trembling so much at this violence that he
could not play, and Alard, who was waiting in the courtyard below for
the coming of Richard, being apprised of what had occurred, hurried to
Maugis, reporting that Richard was making a strong resistance, and had
taken the lives of the men sent to seize him.
Maugis went at once to the chamber of Richard, and demanded of him:
“Sir knight, why hast thou killed my people?”
“They came here,” responded Richard; “several men who interrupted
the game of chess I was playing with your son. They put their hands
on me, and I killed some of them, and put the rest to flight, that is
all. It is no reason because I am your prisoner why your people should
insult me.”
[Illustration: CATHEDRAL OF MOUZON.]
“We do not omit politeness here,” said Maugis, “and I know perfectly
well all the laws of chivalry. It is for that reason I am acting
this way. Charlemagne has abused me and has dishonored me. I simply
retaliate. You are my prisoner. I shall give you up to execution, that
is my right. Have I treated you the way my brother Richard was treated,
when he was condemned to the gibbet, and from which he escaped only
through the courage of his brothers? No, he was covered with chains
like a criminal. I would not subject you to that. I would employ no
violence with you, but you must realize that my soldiers came here to
fulfill orders they had received. There is only one way for you to
escape death, that is to join my service and become my friend.”
“That is impossible,” replied Richard. “I have sworn an oath of
fidelity to the emperor, and I never violate my oath.”
“Then you must be resigned to die. It is useless to lose any more time
in discussion that amounts to nothing.”
“Ah, well! let us go,” said Richard. “I know well the greatness of your
heart, and I deliver myself to you, believing you incapable of a mean
action.”
The Duke de Normandie forthwith surrendered, and was escorted to the
place of execution. Maugis had made preparations for that sorrowful
ceremony, so as to give it all the formidable display possible. All the
troops were under arms. At the last moment Maugis again appealed to
Richard:
“Brave knight,” said he, “it is most painful for me to send to
execution a man of such courage and honor—renounce then the emperor, I
pray thee, and join us in seeking to attain peace.”
“No,” replied Richard, “I have sworn homage to Charlemagne, and though
I die because of his fault, I will not break my oath. If it depended
upon me to grant thee peace, I could ask for nothing better; therefore
grant thou me delay that I may send word to the emperor.”
Maugis at once called a herald, bidding him to take the instructions of
Richard and go with them to Charlemagne.
“Tell him,” said Richard, “that I am at the foot of the gibbet,
to which I am attached ready for the signal of death, and that I
supplicate him to grant my demand for peace. You will also beg of
Roland and all the peers to seek to obtain the peace on which my life
depends.”
The herald hastened away and in due time appeared before Charlemagne
and acquitted him of his errand. Strange to say, the eccentric emperor
was inflexible, while he knew he was acting, with a few exceptions,
without the sympathy of his entire court, and even when all the peers,
without exception, fell on their knees to him, and supplicated him to
save Richard by granting peace to Maugis, Charlemagne was obdurate
and stern in his refusal to interfere, and as the herald was about to
withdraw, Roland stopped him.
“Say to Duke Richard de Normandie,” cried he, “that though the emperor
will blindly let him die, we, his courtiers, do protest and disapprove.
Tell him that we will abandon Charlemagne and his service, that we none
of us consent to devote ourselves to a prince who would be willing to
see a man sacrificed like him, merely to support his wounded vanity.”
It was an exciting moment. Then with one accord the peers acclaimed the
words of Roland.
The suspense was intense.
In the midst of it all Charlemagne sat stern and unchanged.
Then the Archbishop Turpin came forward and said: “Sire, I leave thee
with regret, but thou art committing a grave wrong. I must therefore
leave thee. I prefer to sustain my honor rather than abandon it in a
cowardly way.”
Charlemagne still sat with pallid face and stern brow, and said not a
word.
The peers, one after another, all then left his presence, each going
to their own quarters, forthwith gathering their belongings, striking
their tents and assembling their own soldiers, conducted them without
the imperial camp.
The remaining soldiers of the emperor gazed aghast, astonished and
fearful to see the army of Charlemagne reduced more than one-half by
the departure of the peers and their men.
Two men only viewed this movement with satisfaction. They thought that
now they had become indispensable to the emperor, and that they could
secure his confidence to their own profit. It is needless to say these
two were the traitorous Ganelon and the cowardly Pinabel.
In the meantime the herald had returned to Dordogne, and repeated
faithfully all that had occurred. The Duke de Normandie perceived
that it was useless to count on the support of any one who would thus
abandon him when he had shown the devotion of refusing to escape death
at the price of dishonor.
“It is well,” said he, turning to Maugis with a smile; “I am at thy
service. I am ready to die.”
“This is too much,” cried Maugis, hastening to Richard and embracing
him. “Pardon me,” said he, “for the cruel hours I have caused you to
pass. I was certain in advance that you would prefer death to being
false to your oath, and I only employed the stratagem to obtain by
force from the emperor what it seems impossible for me to obtain by
my prayers. There was no reason why Charlemagne should be wanting in
generosity to me in face of the support of such consequences. Thou
shalt not die.”
Maugis then sent his herald to the twelve deserting peers, bidding
him to tell them that in consideration of their grand action he had
pardoned Richard de Normandie.
In reply to this message the peers gave Maugis to understand that they
should refuse reconciliation with the emperor until he had granted him
peace.
The twelve peers then made preparations for their departure homeward,
but before leaving ranged themselves under the walls of Dordogne, and
exchanged signals of adieu with its brave defenders.
The Emperor Charlemagne, though a man of violent passions, obstinate
and eccentric, was withal a wise man. The view of these preparations
for departure of these noblemen, who had been his best friends, caused
him to seriously reflect. He was seized with grave doubts as to the
wisdom of his course, and he called Pinabel and told him of his fears.
Here it was the cowardly adviser failed to grasp the situation, which
called for the utmost diplomacy. Assuming upon his position now as the
sole adviser of the emperor, he uttered these bold words:
“Sire! I comprehend neither your fears nor your regrets,” said he. “Can
you not do for yourself as well as you could before the departure of
these rebellious knights? Have you not enough soldiers to reduce whom
you would, and then you may battle with your own subjects, who owe you
obeisance? Therefore force these contumacious peers to remain. You have
been made their commander and they must obey you.”
Charlemagne revolted at such advice against noblemen whom he loved,
especially coming from the mouth of a man who compared with them
neither in character nor ability, and one whom he distrusted more and
more. His eyes commenced their well-known ominous sparkling; like a
flash it all came to him, that this man, to whose insidious advice he
had listened so long, was guided by an ignoble ambition, that he had
not scrupled to compromise the dignity of his sovereign. Like a flash
it came to Charlemagne how he had been misled by the deceitful Abbé
Gorieux, who, however, by this time, had craftily absented himself,
no one knew whither, to escape what he saw was the inevitable end of
the conspirators. Like a flash it came to the now thoroughly aroused
Charlemagne how he had been misled by deceits and flatteries and
appeals to his self-pride to do injustice and compromise his dignity.
“Enough!” he thundered to the shrinking Pinabel. “Thou hast abused
my confidence; thou hast thought by appealing cunningly to my vanity
to prevent me from exercising my first and best thoughts; thou hast
worked on my pride to a point where I would lose my army rather than
see justice. It shall be so no longer. What, ho there! a guard,” he
shouted, and when the officers appeared, he ordered:
“Bind this villain hand and foot and bear him to the camp of the twelve
peers. Tell them,” he commanded, “that I deliver into their hands the
traitorous coward who has, by his perfidious councils, tried to sow
discord between us, and who, actuated by a mean jealousy of the brave
Maugis, has kept me always excited against the sons of Aymon. Tell them
to do with him what they will, I abandon him to their resentment. Tell
them that I hope they will take into account this tardy act of loyalty
on my part, and that they will return to my camp and continue to aid me
by their good counsels.”
CHAPTER XVI.
The twelve peers, who really loved and admired the emperor, could not
but accept his overtures. After a consultation they decided to return
to the camp. Before doing so, however, they sent to Dordogne, under a
strong escort, the cowardly Pinabel, with a message to Maugis that it
was this man, with Ganelon, the latter having unfortunately escaped
with the Abbé Gorieux, who had been the cause of all the trouble that
had occurred, even to that very day, and they desired that Maugis
should deal with him as he deemed best.
In due time, Pinabel, with his escort, arrived at Dordogne, and the
traitor was cast into a dungeon until further orders.
When the twelve peers had arrived at the camp Charlemagne assembled
them, and said:
“Noble lords! it is true I am too severe, nevertheless the sons of
Aymon have been guilty of revolt against me, with their cousin Renaud.
They certainly merit punishment. I have felt that I must have the
satisfaction to have one at least expiate the fault of all. I feel that
my position is just and right, therefore go thou,” said he to the Duke
de Naimes and say to them, “that if one of them will yield his life in
expiation of the faults of all, the rest shall receive full pardon and
safety from dishonor, and be allowed to retain full possession of all
their rights.”
The Duke de Naimes duly arrived at Dordogne and acquitted him of his
message. The family were plunged into a stupor of consternation. Maugis
alone retained his coolness.
“The demand of the emperor is just,” said he, “and for the sake of all
must be acceded to.” Then turning calmly to the Duke de Naimes, he said:
“Go to Charlemagne and say to him that I will offer myself as a
sacrifice for the good of mine. Tell him that to-morrow I will deliver
myself up, and that I will release Richard de Normandie safe and sound.”
Yolande, grief-stricken, threw herself upon her husband’s neck, crying:
“Canst thou be so cruel, dear one? think, thy sons will be fatherless
and my life a living death without thee.”
Maugis disengaged her arms and putting her aside, said gently:
“It is duty that calls me, I must obey.”
“Thou shalt not go, Maugis. I am the one to be sacrificed. Thou hast a
wife and sons. I am alone!” cried Richard.
“Not so,” here interposed Alard. “It is I who will go.”
“No! no!” interposed Guichard. “I am the least of thee, my brothers,
surely it is just that I should be the one to suffer.”
“This must not be so. No one shall go but me,” expostulated Renaud.
“All these troubles came through my father’s fault; surely it is but
justice that I should go.”
“Enough, dear friends; let this contention cease. It is decided. I will
go. Let there be no more said.”
Then all the prayers of his wife and his sons were vain. Maugis would
not renounce his intention, nothing could shake his resolution; but
finally, becoming wearied of their tears and entreaties, he feigned to
surrender to them, and proposed a plan for selecting the one who should
be sacrificed in fulfillment of the conditions of the emperor.
“To-morrow,” said he, “at sunrise, we will all assemble in the grand
square of the city, and putting our names on slips of paper, one shall
be drawn in the presence of all the people, and in this way we shall
designate who shall be delivered to Charlemagne.”
The following morning Maugis was nowhere to be found. He had
disappeared, though diligent search was made for him. Yolande,
distracted, went about asking all whom she met if they had seen her
husband, but getting no news of him she thought then he must have gone
to the imperial camp with the Duke de Normandie. Her fears making her
desperate, she returned to the palace, and taking her two sons hastened
along the road thither without an escort. She could not entertain the
idea that Maugis should suffer alone. She had determined to die with
him.
More prudent than Yolande, the brothers of Maugis assembled the troops,
and followed by the people, started to the succor of Maugis, whom they
thought to be in danger.
Meanwhile Maugis, Naimes, and the Duke Richard had arrived and
presented themselves before the emperor, who could hardly restrain his
agitation when he saw them. He greeted them warmly, and in his pleasure
extended both hands to them. Then remembering that he was an emperor,
he collected himself, and assuming a sternness that did not accord with
his real feelings, he said to Maugis:
“You have fought against your emperor. You have merited death. You well
know what is the punishment for such a great crime. It is the scaffold!”
“We know and we have come to plead with you for him!” cried Yolande at
this moment, who had just arrived, and hastening forward with her two
sons, threw herself at the feet of the emperor: “We ask your grace,
sire, and if thou dost refuse we beseech thee to let us be punished
with him.”
“And I!” cried the emperor, who could no longer conceal his emotion, “I
love you all, because I am your second father. Maugis, I pardon thee,
be relieved, but thou must expiate thy fault, for it is great. I decree
that thou shalt sojourn in the holy land, for I know not how long;
perhaps a year; but if thou art always as loyal and as brave as thou
hast been, thou wilt return covered with glory and new laurels. Thou
wilt abandon thy magic and the black arts, for the safety of thy soul,
and glorify God by this expiation. As to thy wife and children, they
shall be as my own. They shall never leave me, and I will this very day
restore to them their rights and property. Bid thee farewell to thy
family and thy brothers; go and God be with thee.”
Maugis, overcome with emotion, made his adieus to the emperor, and
affectionately embraced Yolande, who swooned from her awful grief, and
caressed his children. There was not a dry eye among the courtiers
there assembled as he departed for Dordogne, accompanied by Richard de
Normandie, who swore he would not leave him until he reached the port
from which he sailed for Jerusalem.
Halfway to Dordogne he encountered his brothers, who were coming to his
rescue with their troops, followed by the people, to whom he gave an
account of what had happened, and they then retraced their steps with
him to the city. He caused a flag of peace to be hoisted on the highest
tower, and sent to the emperor his famous horse Bayard, as a gage of
reconciliation. The brave demeanor, the resignation, and the lofty
character displayed by Maugis appealed so strongly to all the peers and
knights that everywhere they proclaimed their high admiration for him.
Maugis asked the emperor what he should do with Pinabel, and he replied
that he abandoned him entirely to Maugis to do with as he chose. And
here the noble character of Maugis was again exhibited. Instead of
destroying his perfidious enemy, all the vengeance he took was to
provide him with a broken-down white horse and set him free, warning
him on pain of death to leave the states of Charlemagne.
The next day Maugis embraced his brothers, commending his wife and
children to them, took off his armor, and assuming the habit of a
pilgrim did not even retain his sword, and set out on his journey; but
they would not leave him, and with Richard de Normandie, accompanied
him to the coast and saw him set sail for the holy land.
CHAPTER XVII.
Some days after the departure of Maugis, Duke Richard de Normandie
presented to Charlemagne the three brothers of Maugis, who remained
in France. The emperor received them kindly and restored to their
possession all their rights and property. During the same month the
camp was broken up, and the imperial army marched to the city of Liege,
which became for the time the capital for the empire.
Meanwhile, Maugis, habited as a pilgrim, convinced himself that the
occult knowledge he possessed and had reluctantly used when pursued to
the last extremity by Charlemagne, was the gift of Satan, rather than
the strange manifestations of natural laws, whose workings were unknown
at this period, except to the occult wisdom of the East, had determined
to abandon all warlike actions, and by devoting himself to prayer and
meditation, seek atonement in them for the terrible faults against God
he had committed; but this was not to be, as events subsequently proved.
Having at last arrived in view of the holy city, Jerusalem, then in
possession of the infidels, and before which the Christian army was
encamped, laying siege thereto—an army composed of noble knights,
assembled from all parts of Europe, who thought that they had been
called to redeem the sacred city from the sacrilegious possession of
the Saracens, to the glory of God, and the insurance of their own souls
to an eternity in Paradise.
The first occupation of Maugis was to prepare himself an humble abode
in a secluded spot within view of the holy city, where he could give
himself up to prayer and meditation undisturbed.
It chanced one day, that on going to a spring nearby to procure water,
he encountered a Christian knight, who studied his face with interest
for a long time and then said to him:
“Permit me, holy father, if I be not committing an indiscretion, to ask
who you are; something tells me that beneath that sacred habit you are
hiding a brave warrior; as for myself, I am the Comte de Rance.”
“My lord,” responded Maugis, “while I have no motive for hiding my
name, I must have your word that the disclosure I make shall be in
confidence. I am Maugis of Montaubon, eldest son of the Duke d’Aymon. I
had incurred the anger of Charlemagne in keeping a neutrality in a war
between him and my relative. For that reason he pursued me from that
day, without ceasing, until recently we made peace, when he pardoned my
brothers and all my relatives, on the condition that I should leave
for the holy land, making the pilgrimage to expiate my faults and the
promise that I would stay until he recalled me.”
At these words Count de Rance sprang from his horse, and falling on his
knee before him, said:
“By thy deeds, sir knight, thou hast proved thyself to be one of the
most noble men the world hath known. Surely thy duty to God at this
most critical juncture in our affairs, when our arms against the
Saracens seem to prevail not, lies not in prayer, but in warlike deeds,
which thou hast proved thyself so fitted to perform. I tender thee my
homage and faith and supplicate thee to command me and mine. There be
other noble knights who will gladly accept thy leadership.”
To this Maugis agreed, and accompanied the count to the camp of the
Christian army, where being made known, the noble knights on all sides
hastened to greet him, and followed the example of the Count de Rance
in paying him homage and tendering him unanimously command of all their
forces, and offered him the privilege of sharing in the booty already
captured from the enemy. This latter proposition, however, Maugis
declined to accept, taking only a horse and arms and armor.
The next day grand _fêtes_ were celebrated in honor of the advent of
the new commander, and these being concluded, they proceeded to dispose
their forces for a new activity against the infidels.
At a council of war then held, Maugis arranged a plan to lure their
foes out of the city by causing them to think the Crusaders had
raised the siege and were abandoning their camp. All these strategic
preparations were made with the greatest silence and secrecy.
At daybreak the following day the Saracens beheld the retreat, and
thinking the camp abandoned, duly commenced to march out. They were
only allowed to advance to a point where their retreat could be readily
cut off. Maugis had secretly sent a number of troops, in command of the
Count de Rance, under the walls of the city, with instructions to cut
the enemy to pieces when they attempted to re-enter.
When the proper moment arrived, Maugis turned and hurled the main body
of troops upon the enemy so unexpectedly as to carry terror and dismay
into their ranks. They would have retreated, but it was in vain; the
Count de Rance appeared in their rear and prevented their entering the
city. The battle then waxed furious on both sides. The chief of the
Saracens at the head of his soldiers, fighting desperately, showed
the greatest valor, but Maugis was everywhere, and pushed his troops
forward in a manner that rendered useless all efforts of the enemy to
escape.
The Count de Rance then unmasked the gate, and falling upon their rear,
cut them to pieces, profiting at the moment when the Saracens were
flying in retreat.
Their chief had been taken prisoner, when the inhabitants of Jerusalem
came to the rescue of the infidels by opening a gate which had escaped
the observations of the Crusaders. The pursuers would have followed the
fugitives into the city, but it was too late. The gates were closed
upon them, and it was in vain that they endeavored to force them. By
this time the walls swarmed with the soldiers of the infidel. Maugis,
however, would not give up, now that his troops were enthused by the
victory, and caused a heavy timber to be brought, which was hurled
with all the force that twenty men could bring to bear against the
gate, regardless of the destruction wrought upon them by the enemy on
the walls above. When men were stricken down at the battering ram, new
ones came forward to take their places, and at last the gates having
yielded, the knights and soldiers victoriously penetrated the city,
slaying all whom they encountered on the way.
All resistance now being hopeless, the principal citizens, reduced
to the last extremity, appeared before Maugis, and yielded up to him
everything and supplicated him for an armistice, and he accorded them
a two days’ truce, pending the ratification of a definitive treaty of
peace.
When this news went abroad among the people they with one accord gave
thanks to Maugis. The ancient city, which had been in a state of
fear and consternation, now resounded with cries of joy. They would
have Maugis occupy the palace and become ruler of the city, but he
refused to do so, preferring his humble abode for all the luxury of the
infidels.
Maugis remained in Jerusalem only sufficient time to establish order
and provide for the safeguard of the people from the infidels, and then
concluded a definite treaty of peace with the latter. Laying aside his
arms, and assuming once more the habit of a pilgrim, he retired to his
hermitage.
The story of the exploits of Maugis was not slow in reaching France,
and caused the emperor to marvel greatly at the deeds of the brave man,
and resolving that he had lived long enough away from his family, he
sent at once a messenger to him, bidding him to return to Montaubon,
that he had completely pardoned him, and was anxious to see him once
more.
Maugis, on receiving this message, would not remain a day longer than
possible on that strange soil. He embarked on a magnificent vessel,
presented by the King of Jerusalem, having been given many valuable
presents, and set sail homeward. Alas! fate had in store for him many
more vicissitudes; his fond hopes to be again in the midst of his
family were to be denied.
At first the voyage was prosperous, but at last they were attacked by
pirates in great force, and after being delayed by adverse winds they
finally encountered a tempest and nearly wrecked. They at last landed
at Palermo, on the Island of Sicily. There the king received them with
honors and gave Maugis a brilliant reception, and would have him remain
with him for some time, but Maugis declined.
It was while he was waiting at Palermo, repairing the damage done to
his ship by the tempest, and recruiting himself after the rigors of
his voyage, that an extraordinary event occurred. A war was declared
against the King of Sicily by the Saracens, and before any precaution
could be taken a large army landed on his coast. The King of Sicily,
not being prepared to meet this great force, was in great fear, but
Maugis reassured him that he would disembarrass Sicily of the Saracens,
whom he had already defeated in Palestine. The Sicilian army was
hastily assembled before Palermo, and Maugis placed himself at its head.
Everything being gotten quickly in readiness, Maugis marched out to
meet the Saracens without delay, who, thinking they were marching
to surprise their enemy unprepared for the unexpected change in the
position, caused by the sudden appearance of the Sicilian army,
hesitated, while the Sicilians advanced upon them firmly.
Emiraza, the chief of the infidels, whom Maugis had already defeated
at Jerusalem, little thought who he had opposing him once more. He
galloped forward to see if he could discover what caused this bold
interference with his designs, and when he animated his troops and
brought them forward to battle he soon perceived he was to meet with a
very stubborn resistance. Seeing a group of knights at the head of the
Sicilian army, he charged upon them with his escort. At that instant
the cry of “Montaubon!” rang in his ears. He stopped still, trembling,
and asked how it was possible that Maugis could be found in Sicily,
when it was over five months since he had departed from Palestine to
return to France.
Meanwhile, regaining his courage, he continued his charge upon the
invincible group of knights, and was repulsed, and Maugis, taking
advantage of the confusion this repulse occasioned, threw his forces
upon the Saracens and completely routed them. In vain it was the
infidels offered a heroic resistance, they were forced to the seashore.
Emiraza, relying upon the swiftness of his horse, reached the shore,
plunged into the waves, and sought to gain his galley. When his
soldiers, later, were stopped by the sea, they were pressed upon by the
victorious Sicilians, until finally they were either killed or made
prisoners to the last man.
This victory covered Maugis with more glory than ever. He was
complimented by magnificent _fêtes_ and given great honors. The king
himself would have him share his crown, but Maugis refused. He had but
one thought and that was to go home to his own country; to be reunited
with his family was his sole ambition.
After a few days spent in _fêtes_ and rejoicing, Maugis embarked, and
after a short and uneventful voyage in due time reached Dordogne,
whereupon, being apprised of their arrival, Richard, Alard, and
Guichard went forward to meet him.
They were followed by all the nobility of the vicinity. The people
formed themselves in a line along the road, and their progress was
marked by cheers and acclamations, and with his name in every one’s
mouth, Maugis finally arrived at the palace.
His first thought was for his well-beloved wife. He was astonished not
to see her among the others. He interrogated his brothers, and they
only responded by silence.
“What signifies this silence?” he demanded of them. “Have you yet
another misfortune to announce to me? Has Providence again stricken me?”
“You must have courage, my dear Maugis,” responded Alard. “Your noble
wife is dead, and died with your name upon her lips. During your
absence, and in the failure to receive news of you, everyone thought
you dead. Yolande refused to be consoled. Certain noblemen dared to
raise their eyes to her, and when they sought to convince her you
were no more, she would not hear, and finally one of them took to her
a piece of your armor, pretending it to be a relic of your decease.
Yolande was deceived by this, and from that day commenced to despair.
It was in vain that Charlemagne assured her of your safety, and even a
courier was sent to Jerusalem to determine it. Everybody assured her
that you were living, but she was death-stricken. She faded in our
arms and passed away, dying in the sweet satisfaction that you had not
ceased to love her.”
This sorrowful news caused Maugis the most intense anguish. The
strongman bowed his head and wept bitterly. He would not be consoled,
and calling together his brothers and his sons, he told them he had
formed a resolution that he should lose no time in carrying out. Said
he:
“I have been blessed with all the triumphs that a man could desire. I
have acquired a universal renown. Nothing is wanting for me in honors
or glory. Alas! what use is it all to me now, when I have not Yolande
to participate in it with me? I was so anxious to be with my family
again. I thought that I could spend the rest of my days among you, but
she is no more. It is a loss I never can forget; therefore have I taken
this resolution: I will quit the world, and retiring to some solitude I
will await the day when I can rejoin her.”
It happened that Renaud, the cousin of Maugis, had made a similar
resolve previously, to the same effect, and was now in some solitary
retreat, having bid adieu to his relatives.
All attempts to change the resolution of Maugis to carry out this plan
failed, and he only hesitated when told that he should remain and watch
over his children until they had passed the tender age.
It was about this time that the sons of Aymon were apprised of the
death of their aged father. The brothers desired Maugis to partition
the property equally among them, but he nobly abandoned all to them,
not even reserving Montaubon. Then for a long time he devoted his days
to the education of his sons. He instructed them himself in all the
forms and exercises of knighthood, placing continually before them a
noble example to follow. He saw with pleasure that one day his children
would fulfill all his hopes in force, in courage, and in honor.
When this noble father felt certain his sons would equal him he took
them apart one day and said to them:
“You are no longer children. The time has come when you should be
occupied with serious things. Your rank and your duty compels you to
consecrate yourselves to your country. Go now to the court, find the
Emperor Charlemagne, and pray him to accept you as his knights.”
CHAPTER XVIII.
When the sons of Maugis quitted their father the young men took the
road for the court, where they duly arrived, and demanded to be
presented to the emperor, as was usual at that period, for aspirants to
the order of knighthood. The lord in waiting, who did not know them,
was struck with their grace and air of nobility, and when they were
ushered into the audience-chamber, where Charlemagne was seated on his
throne among all his courtiers, the two young men fell on their knees,
and kissed with emotion the hand he extended to them.
“Who are you, my children?” said the emperor to them in a kind voice,
“and why is it you show so much affection for me?”
“Sire!” replied young Aymon, “we wish to be made knights for your sole
service, and for your service only. We are deeply indebted to you for
kindness in our youth, and if you will confer upon us the honor, we
would, my brother and myself, consecrate to you our entire life.”
“But who art thou?” asked the emperor, who did not recognize them.
“No lord has conducted you to the palace. No peer has presented you.
Nobody seems to know you.”
“Sire!” replied Aymon, “we are the sons of a knight whom you have
honored with your esteem and for whom you have never hidden your
admiration, even when you were enraged with him. Our father had the
misfortune to incur your displeasure for not being willing to submit,
when his honor opposed, and you forced him to defend himself against
you and against the deceitful counsels of perfidious and jealous
courtiers. Ah, sire, in spite of all these trials you placed upon him,
our father never ceased to love you and to bless you. He has also
taught us to venerate and cherish you. Our father is the brave Maugis,
who during three years passed his time in exile to repair the wrongs
he incurred by activity and courage so astonishing as to give his name
universal renown.”
At these words the emperor arose, descended from his throne and
embraced the two handsome young men, who had come to place their young
lives under his high protecting care. Said he:
“Your father is one of the noblest and most honorable knights I ever
knew. Strive, both of you, to equal him. I could not offer a better
wish for your welfare.”
The emperor then took pride in presenting the young men to the court.
The etiquette compelled by ceremony being cast aside, the emperor
inquired with great solicitude concerning their father.
“Our father,” replied Yon, “is now old and infirm, and bodily exercise
has become too fatiguing for him. Now, instead of following campaigns,
he lives amid his vassals, to whom he renders justice, gives counsel,
and encourages in their labor; in a word, sire, with him rank is but a
distinction. It is as nothing before intelligence, even if those who
possess it are inferior in position. Unfortunately, our father is very
feeble, and we have feared that he is breaking down.”
“A man like your father should live always,” cried Charlemagne.
“Seigneurs!” continued he, turning to his courtiers, “these sons of
Maugis are my sons; you will so consider them.” Then addressing the
young men, he promised that he would himself arm them as knights; also
would give them additional lands, and as a token of love for their
father and themselves, he accorded benefits to the one hundred other
young men who constituted their suite.
Maugis, after the departure of his sons, employed himself in putting
his affairs in order. He bequeathed Dordogne to Yon, his younger son,
and to Aymon, the eldest, he left Montaubon. Then having assembled his
brothers, he said to them:
“I have suffered many trials in the course of my existence. I have
always been first in advancing our general interests. I will to-day
make my farewell. I have vowed to consecrate to God the few years that
remain to me, and to expiate for my sins by passing my remaining days
in an absolute retreat far from the world.”
His brothers tried to dissuade him, but it was useless. That same day
Maugis took his staff and stole away, making his escape undiscovered
from Montaubon, by means of the same subterranean passage he had used
to escape the wrath of Charlemagne when Montaubon was besieged.
Alone, by himself, with no more cares of state, disembarrassed of the
burden of his renown, Maugis plodded through the country northward,
nourishing himself with herbs and roots and drinking the pure water
from the springs he passed on his way, finding life more pleasant
a hundred times than in the midst of his court. His footsteps were
directed toward the ancient city of Mouzon, in the Ardennes, where he
intended to abide for a time in the old house where he had spent some
of his boyhood days under the tutorship of that wise man of the East,
that learned pundit whom his father had rescued from death in the wars
of the Saracens, and from whom Maugis had drawn the occult powers he
had used when driven to the last resource by the emperor. He hoped here
to rest awhile in the society of the good monks of the great Abbey. He
would search for his cousin Renaud, who, likewise, had retired from
the world, to end his days in solitary meditation and prayer.
[Illustration: CATHEDRAL DOOR, MOUZON.]
Maugis spent two years in Mouzon, in the ancient house that had been
his boyhood home. He made diligent inquiry for his cousin Renaud, but
neither the monks nor any one else could tell him anything, except
that some time agone he had been seen passing through the city by the
old Roman road, which led into and through the vast forests of the
Ardennes. So one day Maugis once more took up his staff, and deserting
his home in the ancient city, he too walked far out on the old Roman
road until the forests swallowed him up.
As he made his weary way through the vast solitudes, one day he
approached a hermitage; a strange hope animated him. Had God directed
his steps to the resting place of his cousin Renaud? He searched about
thoroughly, and at last discovered his cousin some distance away in
a solitary place, lying on the moss and absorbed in a book. He came
upon his cousin so quietly that he did not hear him, and he stood and
contemplated him for some time in silence, but suddenly raising his
eyes Renaud became aware of the presence of a stranger. “Can this be
Maugis?” he said to himself, “once so strong and so straight, and now
so bent and so feeble, but a shadow of his former self?” But he soon
overcame his incertitude and sprang up and clasped Maugis in his arms,
who said:
“My dear Renaud! what pleasure I have to see you, you little know. We
will never be separated again.”
It was a long time before Renaud recovered from his joy, and though
each was very desirous to live solitary in pursuance of their vows to
God, they finally decided, however, that they would situate themselves
so as to see each other every day.
Maugis then installed himself a short distance away, in a cave under
a rock which he made habitable. From that time no day passed without
their seeing each other. It was the delight of these two brave old
warriors, whose days were numbered, to recall together their deeds in
the past, and the many things they had accomplished in company. Thus,
after a life of activity and turmoil, their isolation seemed peaceful
and blessed to them, and they found that peace which passeth all
understanding in their old age, which made them never regret having
quitted the world.
It happened that one day, when Maugis went as usual to the old oak
which served as their rendezvous, Renaud was not there, and after
waiting vainly for a long time, he hurried to his hermitage and there
found him feeble and depressed.
“My dear Maugis,” said Renaud to him, “I am now approaching the end
of my existence. I will soon enjoy eternal repose. I die with only
one regret, and that is, I cannot have you with me in death. That we
must at last leave each other. God is not willing that we should go
together, but we do not die, except from the vengeance of God, until we
are no longer useful to humanity.”
“What are you saying, my dear cousin,” replied Maugis. “Am I not also
useless; am I not old and infirm, and my forces completely disappeared?”
“That is true,” responded Renaud, “but you must remain on earth to
obey the destiny of your Lord. He is always ready to execute His will.
Adieu! my dear Maugis, we shall shortly meet again. I die happy because
I am dying in your arms.”
Renaud hardly spoke these last words when he yielded up his soul.
Maugis then tenderly disposed of his remains in the grave Renaud
had himself prepared, accomplishing this sad ceremony with complete
serenity. After having rendered these last duties to his cousin, Maugis
retired to his hermitage and remained there.
His end was near. It was decreed by God that he should soon follow his
cousin. One day as he was walking on the banks of the river Meuse, near
his hermitage, he heard cries of distress. It was the voices of young
women calling for assistance. Without regarding the infirmities of age,
Maugis hastened in the direction of the cries, and when he arrived at
the banks of the river he was astonished to find a young woman lying
there half-fainting, bound hand and foot; collecting all her resources
the swooning girl indicated the water, and upon turning his eyes in
that direction Maugis perceived a man, who was dragging another young
woman by the hair of her head and was about to cast her into the
water. Maugis, at the sight of this outrage, felt his old-time vigor
returning, and hastening to her assistance, he took his staff in both
hands and smote the villain on the head.
The man dodged the blow and escaped a second one by leaping into
the stream, dragging the young woman with him. Maugis hesitated not
a moment, and plunging after him and seizing him by the throat,
endeavored to pull him out of the water, but the man shook himself
free, and turned upon Maugis.
At that moment, such are the strange decrees of fate, the noble Maugis
recognized in the face of that man the features of Pinabel.
“Infamous scoundrel!” said he to him, “not content to have committed
acts of cowardice with men, you must complete your villainy by
attacking women. You shall die this time and you need not count on my
clemency.”
Saying this, Maugis seized him firmly and succeeded in forcing him
under the surface of the river, but the fear of death doubled the
strength of Pinabel. Maugis could not disembarrass himself from his
enemy, who, in his desperation, wound himself around Maugis with his
arms and legs. It was in vain that Maugis struck him and tried to
force him loose. The drowning wretch clung to him with the energy of
despair. Maugis could not free himself from his deathlike grip, and
the nearer death approached the firmer became his hold. For a long
time the nearly exhausted Maugis struggled to rid himself of the body
of the now drowned man, his movements impeded by the clinging corpse,
which, with the swiftness of the current, contributed to destroy him.
With a supreme effort he raised his voice to call for help, but he was
answered only by the frantic cries of the two young women.
Little by little his strength diminished, his eyesight failing, and
with eyes closed he heard faintly the prayers of the two frightened
girls for the safety of the man who had so bravely come to their
rescue. Then he sank slowly down to the bottom. He appeared once more
at the surface of the water, as if to protest against meeting the same
death as a villain who had committed so many crimes during his life,
and then he once more disappeared, never again to return to life.
* * * * *
The death of Maugis would have never become known if the two young
girls had not recounted their adventure to some fishermen. They told
how Pinabel, in love with one of them, had surprised them bathing, and
had seized and bound the one to whom he was indifferent in order that
he might more readily accomplish his purpose with the other. They told
them, moreover, that Pinabel, having become an outcast, had placed
himself at the head of a band of malefactors, who recently had captured
a château in the vicinity, killing all the people who inhabited it.
The fishermen searched a long time for the body of Maugis, and finally
recovered it, with the corpse of Pinabel still attached; then they
recognized him as the hermit they had seen in the neighborhood. They
laid his remains out tenderly, and carried them to his hermitage, from
which he was finally interred in the same grave as Renaud.
Never would it have become known just who the religious men were who
lived in the forest had they not found the following inscription upon
the tomb of Renaud, written by Maugis himself:
+-------------------------------------+
| MAUGIS DE MONTAUBON, |
| +Duc de Aymon+. |
| AUX NAMES REVERSES DE SON COUSIN, |
| RENAUD, DUC DE BEUVES. |
| _En Memoire de Leur Amitie._ |
+-------------------------------------+
They also found in the grotto of Maugis the portrait of Yolande. He had
written underneath her name and his own. It was incontestable proof of
his identity.
The news of the combat and its sad ending reached Cologne. Seigneur de
Burie, who had formerly known Maugis and Renaud, visited the hermitage
to assure himself that the tomb contained all that remained of the
heroic Maugis and Renaud, which having done, he fell on his knees and
prayed with fervor. Immediately upon his return he sent the clergy of
Cologne to exhume the precious remains and bring them to Cologne, where
they were deposited in the cathedral with great pomp and ceremony,
their bier being watched by knights continuously while they laid in
state.
In the meantime the tidings were sent to Paris. The emperor, on hearing
the sad news, ordered the entire court in mourning, and indeed the
mourning was not a mere outward seeming, for there was sorrow in every
heart.
The sons of Maugis and his brothers were plunged into the most profound
grief. Some days afterward an imposing retinue proceeded to Cologne and
brought with them the remains of the two heroes. When they had reached
the suburbs of Paris they were met by Charlemagne himself, and escorted
into the city. There the most magnificent funeral ceremonies were held,
after the completion of which the Aymon family proceeded with the two
bodies onward to Montaubon, their final resting place, where they were
placed under a magnificent tomb.
To give testimony to his grief and friendship, after the emperor had
accompanied them as far as Orleans, he returned to Paris, and ordered
that the arms and escutcheons of Pinabel be destroyed, and that
everything should be obliterated that was connected with a name which
called forth so much execration.
THE END.
Transcriber’s Notes:
• Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
• Text enclosed by pluses is in small caps (+small caps+).
• Obvious typographical errors have been silently corrected.
• Redundant title page removed.
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