The Poniard's Hilt Part 44

"Neither I nor my two companions being anxious to meet Clotaire and his bodyguard, we rushed towards the granite boulders that strewed the beach and hid ourselves completely from view among them. Both the hut and the sea were in sight from the place of my concealment. A minute later I saw the boat, now loaded with the cases that were taken from the pack-saddles of the mules, and which undoubtedly contained the treasury of Chram, row swiftly towards the vessel, the sails of which were at the same time being loosened to the wind."

"And the woman--the two children?"

"Imnachair left them all behind. He sat in the stern of the boat with the tiller in his hand; the slaves rowed and accompanied the King's favorite in his flight."

"The heavens would be unjust if such men as Chram could find devoted friends. This wretch of a favorite no doubt gave Chram over to a deserved death; but that wife--those innocent children--"

"As I was saying, Kervan, from my place of concealment I had the sea, the hut and its surroundings in plain view. Despite the distance that separated me from the horrible scene that I am about to describe to you, I could distinctly hear the voices of the Franks, who were drawing nearer and nearer. Almost at the same instant that Imnachair pushed off from the beach, I saw Chram's wife take a few steps, dragging her children after her. Her strength failed her; she again dropped down upon her knees; I saw her and her two little daughters raise their arms imploringly, with terror-stricken countenances. An instant later, bare-headed, livid, with his armor in disorder, Chram appeared in sight near the hut; he leaped off his horse, and was moving backwards, sword in hand, parrying the blows aimed at him by three warriors. Suddenly the thundering voice of King Clotaire was heard, and these words reached my ears:

"'Lord, look down upon me from Your throne in heaven, and judge my case, because I have been most unworthily wronged by my son! Look down upon us, Oh, Lord, and judge us equitably, and let Your judgment be that which You p.r.o.nounced between David and Absalom!'

"Clotaire finished this invocation as he came within my view near the door of the hut, and he then addressed the three members of his bodyguard who were still closely pressing Chram:

"'Stop your attack! I want to see the traitor alive!'

"The warriors lowered their swords. Chram, whose face was bathed in blood, staggered a few steps forward and fell into the arms of his wife, who had rushed towards him, and now held him in a close and consoling embrace. Her two little daughters remained on their knees with their arms outstretched towards Clotaire, who descended from his foam-flecked horse. In his hand he held his long sword. His warriors made a circle around Chram and his family. Clotaire then sheathed his sword, folded his arms over his breast, and for an instant contemplated his son in silence. Chram fell on his knees; with clasped hands he implored his father's pardon, and then bowed down his head to the ground; his wife and two daughters sobbed aloud. Clotaire looked upon the group long in silence. Finally he issued his orders to one of the men in his suite.

Chram, his wife and his two daughters were bound fast despite their frantic cries for mercy and desperate resistance. All the four were then dragged into the hut. Their piercing cries reached my place of concealment, distant though it was. A few minutes later Clotaire's warriors came out of the hut and closed the door.

"'We bound them all firmly upon the bench, as you ordered, seigneur King,' one of them reported.

"At the same moment I saw another warrior draw near the hut with a burning brand."

"But what was the death that Clotaire reserved for his son and his son's family?"

"The hut was constructed of wood and thatched with reeds. The three warriors of the King heaped around it bunches of dry seaweed and dead tree branches."

"Oh, I can guess what is to come. Oh, Ronan--that is horrible. The father is going to burn his son, granddaughters and his son's wife!"

"When a sufficient ma.s.s of these combustible materials was heaped up all around the hut, Clotaire made a sign. The warrior who held the burning brand blew upon it, and soon as it was in flame held it to the heap of dry wood and weed. In an instant the hut disappeared behind a roaring sheet of fire. The cries of the unfortunate beings who were about to perish in the flames became heartrending. I turned my head away in involuntary horror, and, as my eyes fell upon the high sea, I saw the light vessel speeding away under full sail and vanis.h.i.+ng in the distant horizon--it carried away Imnachair, together with the treasury of Chram.

"Clotaire has four sons left to him--Charibert, Gontran, Sigebert and Chilperik. It is said that the last of these seems to have inherited the ferocity of his father Clotaire and his grandfather Clovis!"

EPILOGUE.

On the morning after the day when Ronan, my brother Karadeucq's son gave us this account, he left us. These were his last words:

"Kervan, I leave this house happy at having fulfilled the last wishes of my father and the orders of Joel."

Ronan the Vagre left, accordingly, early in the morning to return to his beloved Valley of Charolles. My nephew promised that, in the event of any matters of importance, he would inform us if he finds a traveler bound for Brittany. He would address any further narrative either to myself or my son Yvon, should I have left this world.

May Ronan, my brother's son, arrive safely in the Valley of Charolles and find his family happy and peaceful.

If before my death I should have nothing to add to these chronicles, I bequeath them, together with our family relics, to my son Yvon.

I, Yvon, son of Kervan and grandson of Jocelyn, enter at this place the date of my father's death in the month of June of the year 561.

From travelers we have learned that King Clotaire died this year at Compiegne in the fifty-first year of his reign, and was interred in the basilica of St. Medard at Soissons with the blessings of the bishops.

I have received no tidings from Ronan. May he still be alive and happy and free in the Valley of Charolles, as we are here in Brittany, which still remains free from the Frankish yoke. May it please Hesus never to allow our beloved province to experience such a calamity.