CHAPTER IX.
BRENN--KARNAK.
The goldsmith remained a few moments at the threshold of the workshoplistening to the retreating steps of the intendant; he then closed andbolted the door and went to the vault where Rosen-Aer was in hiding,while Septimine ran to the window to see whether Berthoald was still insight. But the sight that presented itself to her eyes made her exclaimwith terror: "Great God, the young chief is lost!... The water hasreached the air-hole!"
"Lost!... My son!" cried Rosen-Aer in despair, rushing to the windowdespite the old man's efforts to restrain her. "Oh, my son! To have seenyou again only to lose you.... Amael, Amael!... Answer your mother!"
"The woman will betray us ... if she is heard outside!" said thefear-stricken old man, vainly endeavoring to drag Rosen-Aer from thewindow bars to which the distracted woman clung, hysterically callingout to her son. But Amael did not reappear. The flood had gained theopening of the air-hole, and despite the width of the moat thatseparated the two buildings, the muffled sound of the water was heardpouring through the opening and falling into the cavern. Pale as death,Septimine could not utter a word. In the frenzy of her despair,Rosen-Aer sought to break the stout iron bars of the window, while shesobbed aloud: "To know that he is there ... in agony ... dying ... andwe unable to save him!"
"Have hope!" cried the old man with tears in his eyes at the sight ofthe mother's anguish; "hope!... I have been watching the moss-coveredstone at the corner of the air-hole. The water does not rise to it....It has stopped rising.... See for yourselves!"
Septimine and Rosen-Aer dried their tears and looked at the stone thatBonaik pointed out. In fact it was not submerged. Presently even thenoise of the water flowing down through the air-hole sounded with lessdistinctness, and finally ceased altogether. The flood seemed checked.
"He is saved!" cried Septimine. "Thank God, the young chief will notdrown!"
"Saved!" stammered Rosen-Aer in a heart-rending tone of doubt. "And ifenough water has poured into the cavern to drown him.... Oh! If he werestill alive he would have answered my voice.... No, no! He is dying! Heis dead!"
"Master Bonaik, some one knocks," an apprentice said. "What shall I do?Open?"
"Return to your hiding place," the old man said to Rosen-Aer, and as shedid not seem to hear, he added: "Are you determined to perish and haveus all perish with you, we who are ready to sacrifice ourselves for youand your son?" Rosen-Aer left the window and returned to the vault,while the old man walked to the door and inquired: "Who is there?"
"I," answered from the outside the voice of the apprentice who had goneout with Ricarik; "I, Justin, I have executed your commissions, FatherBonaik."
"Come in, quick," said the goldsmith to the lad who carried an emptybarrel on his shoulders and had in his hand a basket of provisions, thewine pouch, and a large roll of rope and cord. Re-bolting the door, theold man took the wine pouch out of the basket and going to the vaultwhere Rosen-Aer was hiding said to her: "Take a little wine to comfortyou."
But Amael's mother pushed the pouch aside, crying in despair: "My son!My son! What has become of my son Amael?"
"Justin," the old man said to the apprentice, "give me the stones I toldyou to pick up."
"Here, Master Bonaik, are they. I filled my pockets with them."
The old man picked out a small stone and went to the window, saying: "Ifthe unfortunate man is not drowned, he will understand, when he seesthis stone drop into the cave, that it is a signal." Father Bonaik tookaccurate aim and threw the stone through the air-hole. Rosen-Aer andSeptimine awaited the result of Bonaik's attempt in mortal anguish. Eventhe apprentices observed profound silence. A few seconds of intenseanxiety passed. "Nothing," murmured the old goldsmith with his eyesfixed upon the air-hole.
"He is dead!" cried Rosen-Aer, held by Septimine in her arms. "I shallnever more see my son!"
The old man threw a second stone. Another interval of anxiety ensued.All held their breath. A few seconds later, as Rosen-Aer raised herselfon tip-toe, she cried: "His hands! I see his hands! He is holding to thebar of the air-hole. Thanks, Hesus! Thanks! You have saved my son!" andthe woman fell upon her knees in an attitude of prayer.
Bonaik thereupon saw the pale face of Amael, framed in his long blackhair that now streamed with water, rise between the iron bars of theair-hole. The old man made him a sign to withdraw quickly, while sayingin a low voice as if he expected to be heard by the prisoner: "Now, hideyourself, disappear and wait!" and turning to Rosen-Aer: "Your son hasunderstood me. No imprudence. Be calm." Bonaik then went to hiswork-bench, took a piece of parchment from a little roll that he used totrace his models on, and wrote these words:
* * * * *
"If the water has not invaded the cavern so that you cannot stay therewithout danger until night, then give three pulls to the string at theend of which will be attached the stone tied in this note. This cord canthen serve as a means of communicating. When you see it shake get readyfor further information. Until then do not show yourself at theair-hole. Courage!"
* * * * *
Having written these words, the goldsmith rolled the stone in theparchment, happily impermeable to water, and tied both in a knot to oneend of the string, at about the middle of which he attached a piece ofiron in order that the body of the rope might be held under water, andthus the means of communication between the workshop and the cavernremain invisible. Bonaik slung the stone through the air-hole, retainingin his hand the other end of the string. Almost immediately after, threepulls given to the string announced to Bonaik that Amael could remainuntil evening without danger in his prison, and that he would follow theorders of the old man. Hope revived the spirits of Rosen-Aer. In thefulness of her thanks she took the goldsmith's hands and said to him:"Good father, you will save him, will you not? You will save my son?"
"I hope so, poor woman! But let me collect my thoughts.... At my age,you know, such experiences are trying. In order to succeed, we must beprudent. The task is difficult.... We cannot be too cautious."
While the goldsmith, leaning on his elbows at his work-bench, held hishead in his hands, and the apprentices remained silent and uneasy,Rosen-Aer, struck by a sudden recollection, said to Septimine: "Mychild, you said my son had been good to you, like an angel fromheaven.... All that concerns you interests me. Where did you meet him?"
"Near Poitiers, at the convent of St. Saturnine.... My family and I,touched with pity for a young prince, a boy, who was kept confined inthe monastery, wished to help him to escape; all was discovered, theymeant to punish me in a shameful, infamous manner," Septimine saidblushing; "and they decided to sell me and separate me from my fatherand mother.... It was at that moment that your son, a favorite ofCharles, the Chief of the Franks, interceded in my behalf and took meunder his protection--"
"My son, say you, dear child?"
"Yes, madam, the seigneur Berthoald."
"You call him Berthoald?"
"That is the name of the young Frankish chief who is locked up in thatcavern--"
"My son Amael with the name of Berthoald! My son a favorite of theFrankish chief!" cried Rosen-Aer struck with amazement. "My son, who wasraised in horror for the conquerors of Gaul, those oppressors of ourrace! My son one of their favorites! No, no.... It is impossible!"
"Live a hundred years, and never shall I forget what happened at theconvent of St. Saturnine--the touching kindness of the seigneurBerthoald towards me, whom he had never seen before. Did he not obtainmy liberty from Charles, and also the liberty of my father and mother?Was he not generous enough to give me gold to meet my family's wants?"
"I am lost in the attempt to penetrate this mystery. The troop ofwarriors, that brought us slaves in their train, did indeed stop at theabbey of St. Saturnine," replied Rosen-Aer in great agony, and sheadded: "but if he whom you call Berthoald obtained your freedom from thechief of the Franks, how come you to be a slave here, my poor child?"
"The sei
gneur Berthoald trusted the word of Charles, and Charles trustedthe word of the abbot of the convent. But after the departure of thechief of the Franks and your son, the abbot, who had previously sold meto a Jew named Mordecai, kept his bargain with the Jew.... In vain did Ibeseech the warriors whom Charles left behind in possession of themonastery, and as a guard over the little prince, to stand by me. I wastorn away from my family. The Jew kept the gold that your son hadgenerously given me, and brought me to this country. He sold me to theintendant of this abbey that was donated by Charles to the seigneurBerthoald, as I learned at the convent of St. Saturnine."
"This abbey was donated to my son!... He a companion in arms of theseaccursed Franks!... He a traitor! a renegade! Oh, if you speak truly,shame and perdition upon my son!"
"A traitor! A renegade!... The seigneur Berthoald! The most generous ofmen! You judge your son too severely!"
"Listen, poor child, and you will understand my sorrow.... After a greatbattle, delivered near Narbonne against the Arabs, I was taken by thewarriors of Charles. The booty and slaves were divided by lot. I and myfemale fellow prisoners were told that we belonged to the chiefBerthoald and his men."
"You, a slave of your own son!... But, God, he did not know it!"
"Yes, the same as I did not know that my new master, the young Frankishchief Berthoald, was my son Amael."
"And probably your son, who marched at the head of his troop, did notsee you on the journey."
"We were eight or ten female slaves in a covered cart. We followed thearmy of Charles. Occasionally the men of chief Berthoald visited us, and... but I shall spare your blushes, poor child, and shall not dilateupon their infamous conduct!" added Rosen-Aer shuddering at thedisgusting and horrible recollection. "My age protected me from a shamethat, however, I was determined to escape by death.... My son neverjoined in those orgies, frequently stained with blood and moistened intears--the men beat the girls to the point of shedding their blood whenthey sought to resist being outraged. In that way we arrived in thevicinity of the convent of St. Saturnine. We stopped there severalhours. The Jew Mordecai happened to be at the monastery. Learning, nodoubt, that there were slaves to buy in the train of the army, he cameto us accompanied by some men of the band of Berthoald. You were sold,poor child; you know the disgraceful examination that these dealers inGallic flesh submit the slaves to."
"Yes, yes; I had to undergo the shame before the monks of the abbey ofSt. Saturnine when they sold me to the Jew," answered Septimine, hidingher face, purple with shame.
Rosen-Aer proceeded:
"Women and young girls, despite their prayers and resistance, werestripped of their clothes, profaned and spoiled by the looks of the menwho wanted either to sell or to buy us. My age could not spare me thisgeneral disgrace--" and breaking out into tears and wringing her arms indespair, the mother of Amael added amidst moans: "Such are the Frankswhose companion of war my son is!"
"It is horrible!"
"The baseness confounds my senses and makes my heart to sicken. At theage of fifteen my son disappeared from the valley of Charolles, where helived free and happy ... before the Saracen invasion. What happenedsince? I do not know."
Hearing the name of the valley of Charolles, Bonaik, who had remainedsteeped in thought, trembled and listened to the conversation betweenSeptimine and the mother of Amael, who proceeded to say: "Perhaps theJew holds the secret of my son's life."
"That Jew?... How?"
"When, despite the pain it gave me, the Jew came to inspect me, I had toundergo the fate of the rest. I was stripped of my clothes.... Oh, maymy son never know of my shame! The thought alone would haunt him as aperpetual remorse through life, if he should live," Rosen-Aerinterjected in a low voice. "While I underwent the fate of my companionsin slavery ... the Jew observed with a start on my left arm these twowords traced in indelible letters: '_Brenn_,' '_Karnak_.'"
"'_Brenn_,' '_Karnak_'!" cried the old goldsmith.
"The custom of doing so was adopted in my family several generationsback, because, alack, in those troubled days of continuous war, familieswere exposed to being rent apart and dispersed far and wide. 'Twas anindelible sign which might help them to recognize one another."
Rosen-Aer had hardly pronounced these words when, drawing near her indeep emotion, Bonaik cried: "Are you of the family of Joel, the brenn ofthe tribe of Karnak?"
"Yes, father!"
"Did you live in Burgundy in the valley of Charolles, once ceded toLoysik, the brother of Ronan, by King Clotaire I?"
"But, good father, how do you know all that?"
For only answer, the old man rolled up the sleeve of his blouse andpointed with his finger to two words indelibly traced on his left arm:"_Brenn_," "_Karnak_."
Rosen-Aer remained stupified, and recovering said: "You also?... Youalso.... You, good father.... Are you of the family of Joel?"
"One of my ancestors was Kervan, the uncle of Ronan. That is myaffiliation."
"Does your family live in Brittany, near Karnak?"
"My brother Allan or his children remained at the cradle of our stock."
"And how did you fall into slavery?"
"Our tribe crossed the frontier and came, according to their custom fromtime immemorial, to trade arms for the vines of the Franks near thecounty of Rennes. I was then fifteen, and accompanied my father on hisjourney. A troop of Franks attacked us. I was separated during the fightfrom my father, was captured and taken far away into bondage. Sold fromone master to another, accident brought me to this country where I amnow twelve years. Alack! Often have my eyes wandered towards thefrontier of our old Brittany, ever free! My advanced age coupled to thehabit of a profession that I love and that consoles me, have kept mefrom thinking of escape. And so we are relatives!... The unhappy youngman yonder, near us, imprisoned in the cavern, is of our blood?... Buthow did he become chief of this Frankish troop that the inundation hasjust swallowed up?"
"I was telling this poor child that a Jew, a dealer in slaves, havingnoticed these two words--'_Brenn_,' '_Karnak_'--on my arm seemedastonished, and said to me: 'Have you not a son who must be abouttwenty-five years old, and who carries like you, those two words tracedon his arm?' But despite the horror that the Jew inspired me with, hiswords revived in me the hope of finding my son again. 'Yes,' I answeredhim, 'ten years ago my son disappeared from the place where we lived.''And you lived in the valley of Charolles?' the Jew asked. 'Do you knowmy son?' I cried. But the infamous man refused to answer me, and hewalked away casting a cruel look upon me."
"And you have seen him since?" asked Septimine.
"Never again. The carts resumed their march to this country, where Iarrived with my fellow female slaves. All the women must have perishedthis morning ... and without the efforts of this brave girl I would haveperished also."
"The Jew Mordecai," replied the goldsmith reflecting, "that dealer inthe flesh of Gauls, a great friend of the intendant Ricarik, arrivedhere a few days ago. He was at the convent of St. Saturnine when thedonation of this abbey was made to your son and his band. He must,undoubtedly, have run ahead to warn the abbess, and she, accordingly,made her preparations of defence against the warriors who came todispossess her."
"The Jew was in a great hurry to arrive here after his departure fromthe convent of St. Saturnine, where he took me from," replied Septimine."We were only three slaves and he packed us on his light wagon that wasdrawn by two horses. He must have arrived here two or three days aheadof the troop of the seigneur Berthoald, who must have been delayed onhis march by his large baggage."
"So that the Jew must have notified Meroflede in advance, and must alsohave revealed to her the secret of the alleged Frankish chief being ofthe Gallic race," observed Bonaik. "Hence the terrible vengeance of theabbess, who must have had your son cast into that subterranean prison,expecting to expose him to certain death. The thing now is how to savehim, and to protect ourselves from the vengeance of Meroflede. To remainhere after your son's escape would be to expose these poor app
renticesand Septimine to death."
"Oh, good father! What shall we do?" put in Septimine, joining herhands. "No one can penetrate into the building under which the seigneurBerthoald is imprisoned."
"Call him Amael, my child," said Rosen-Aer bitterly. "The name ofBerthoald constantly reminds me of a shame that I would forget."
"To extricate Amael out of the cavern is not an impossible feat," saidthe old goldsmith, raising his head. "I have just been thinking it over.We have a fair chance of success."
"But, good father," asked Rosen-Aer, "what about the iron bars at thewindow of this workshop, and those at the air-hole of the cave in whichmy son is confined? And then that large and deep moat? What obstacles!"
"These are not the most difficult obstacles to surmount. Suppose nighthas set in and Amael is with us, free. What then?"
"Leave the abbey," said Septimine; "escape ... we shall all flee--"
"And how, my child? Do you forget that with nightfall the gate of thejetty is locked? A watchman is there on guard. But, even if we clearedthe gate, the inundation covers the road. It will take two or three daysfor the waters to withdraw. Until then this abbey will remain surroundedby water like an island."
"Master Bonaik," said one of the young apprentices, "there are thefishing boats."
"Where are they usually fastened, my boy, at what part of the pond?"
"On the side of the chapel."
"To reach them we would have to cross the interior court of thecloister, and its door is every evening bolted and barred from within!"
"Alack!" exclaimed Rosen-Aer, "must we renounce all hope of escape?"
"Never give up hope. Let us first think of Amael. Whatever may happen,once he is out of the cavern, his fate will not be worse. Now, my lads,"the goldsmith added, addressing the apprentices, "what we are about toattempt is grave ... your lives and ours are at stake. You have nochoice but to help us or betray us. To betray us would be a base act.Nevertheless your only interest in this flight is the uncertain hope ofrecovering your freedom. Do you prefer to betray us? Say so frankly, andnow.... In that event I shall not undertake anything, and the fate ofthe worthy woman and her son is sealed.... If, on the contrary, wesucceed with your help to save Amael and leave this abbey, this is myplan: I am told it is about four days' march from here to Armorica, theonly territory in all Gaul that is still free. Arrived in Brittany, weshall take the road to Karnak. There we shall find my brother or hisdescendants. My tribe will receive us all as children of its own family.From goldsmith's apprentices you will become apprentices in field-labor,unless you should prefer to pursue your trade in some town of Brittany,only no longer as slaves but as free artisans. Reflect ripely, anddecide. The day is slipping by. Time is precious."
Justin, one of the apprentices, consulted with his companions in a lowvoice, and then answered: "Our choice is not doubtful, Master Bonaik. Weshall join you in restoring a son to his mother; hap what hap may, weshall share your fate."
"Thank you, my generous boys!" said Rosen-Aer, with her eyes full oftears. "Alack! All I can offer you in exchange for your noble conduct isthe gratitude of a mother!"
"Now," said the goldsmith, who seemed to have regained the agility andvivacity of his youth, "no more words! To work! Two of you will see tothe sawing of the bars of the window. But do it so that they remain inposition."
"We understand, Father Bonaik," said Justin; "the bars will remain inposition; all that will be needed to throw them down will be a slighttap of the hammer when you tell us."
"There is no fear of being seen from without. The opposite building hasno windows facing us."
"But how are the bars of the air-hole to be sawed?"
"The prisoner will do that himself with the aid of this file that Ishall throw over to him wrapped in another note directing him what todo." Saying this the old man sat down upon his work-bench and wrote thefollowing lines which Septimine, leaning over his shoulders, read aloudas fast as he wrote:
* * * * *
"Saw off with this file the iron bars of the air-hole, keeping them,however, in position. When it is dark remove them. Three pulls given tothe string, one end of which you hold, will announce to us that you areready. You will then draw towards the air-hole an empty barrel that weshall have tied to the end of the string."
* * * * *
"What! Good father! You had so much presence of mind as to think of allthese means of escape and prepare for them? How grateful my heart is toyou!"
"We must find means of escape," answered the old man, starting to write;"the lives of us all are now at stake----"
"And we who are of the trade, we really believed you were preparingthese articles for the cast," said Justin. "This is a fine trick! Thewicked Ricarik will himself have furnished us the barrel and ropes."
Septimine continued to read as Bonaik wrote:
* * * * *
"When the barrel is near enough to the air-hole, you will take firm holdof a rope that is wound around the barrel and throw yourself into thewater. You will push the barrel, and we will pull it gently toward thewindow, which you will then be able to scale easily with our help. Weshall consider the rest."
* * * * *
"Oh, good father," exclaimed Rosen-Aer tenderly, "thanks to you, my sonis saved!"
"Alack! Not so fast, poor woman! I told you before, to take him out ofthe cavern is possible; but after that the need will be to get out ofthis accursed convent.... Well, we shall try!" and he proceeded to writethese last lines:
* * * * *
"Perhaps you can swim; no imprudence! The best swimmers get drowned.Reserve your strength so as to be able to help your mother to escapefrom this abbey. When you receive this parchment tear it up in littlebits; the same with the first, throw them into the darkest corner ofyour prison because it is possible that you may be sent for and takenfrom there before evening."
* * * * *
"Oh, God!" exclaimed Rosen-Aer joining her hands in terror. "We neverthought of that. Such a misfortune is possible."
"We must foresee every eventuality," replied the old man closing hisletter with these words:
"Do not despair, and place your hope in Hesus, the God of our fathers!"
"Oh!" murmured Rosen-Aer in distress, "the faith of his fathers, theteachings of his family, the sufferings of his race, and the hatred forthe stranger--he has forgotten it all!"
"But the sight of his mother will have brought all back again to him,"answered the old man. Saying this he gave a pull to the string to notifyAmael. The latter answered the signal in the same way. Bonaik thenwrapped the file in the parchment and threw it to the other side of themoat. The aim was again accurate. The missive, together with the file,flew through the air-hole and dropped on the floor of the cavern. Afterhaving informed himself on these further instructions from the old man,Amael showed himself behind the bars. His eager eyes seemed to ask forhis mother.
"He is looking for you," said Septimine to Rosen-Aer; "show yourself tohim; do not deny him this consolation."
The Gallic matron sighed, and leaning upon Septimine took two stepstowards the window. There, with a solemn and resigned mien, she raised afinger to heaven, as if to say to her son to trust the God of hisfathers. At the sight of his mother and Septimine, the sweet image ofwhom had never left him since he first saw her at the convent of St.Saturnine, Amael joined his hands, and raised them above his head. Hisface indicated at once resignation, respect and happiness.
"And now, my boys," the goldsmith said to the young apprentices, "takeyour files and start filing off the bars of the window; I and one of youshall place the crucible on the brasier and melt the metal. Ricarik maycome back. He must be made to believe that we are busy at the cast. Thedoor is bolted inside. You, Rosen-Aer, remain near the entrance of thevault so as to escape into it quickly should that accursed intendant
take it into his head to return here, a probable thing. His earlymorning round being done, we hardly ever see him again, thanks to God!But the least imprudence may be fatal."