CHAPTER I.
WEEDING KINGLETS.
The village of Ryonne, situated on the banks of the little river ofVigienne, lies about three days' march from Chalon. Around the village aportion of the troops of Clotaire II, son of Fredegonde, lie encamped.The King's tent has been set up under a clump of trees in the middle ofthe village. The sun has only just risen. Not far from the royal shelterstands a farmhouse. It is larger than any other in sight, and also inbetter condition. Its door is closed, and two Frankish soldiers are onguard before it. The only light that enters the house penetrates througha little window. From time to time one of the soldiers who is postedoutside, looks in and listens through the window. A worm-eaten oldtrunk, two or three stools, a few household utensils, and a long boxfilled with straw--such are the furnishings of the place. On that roughstraw couch are three children. They are clad in gold-and silver-trimmedsilk clothes. Who may these children be, so magnificently clad, yetlying on that pallet like the children of slaves? They are the childrenof Thierry, the late King of Burgundy; they are the great-grandchildrenof Brunhild. The three children are asleep in one another's arms.Sigebert, the eldest, lies between his two brothers; Merovee's head, theyoungest of the three, lies on Sigebert's breast. Corbe, the second, hashis arm around his eldest brother's neck. The faces of the littleprinces, as they lie soundly asleep, are half hidden by their long hair,the symbol of the royal family. They seem to lie peacefully, almosthappily. Especially the face of the eldest has an expression of angelicserenity. As the sun mounted higher and higher above the horizon, itpresently darted its luminous and warm rays upon the group of sleepingchildren. Awakened by the heat and the brilliancy of the light, Sigebertpassed his white wan hands over his large and still half-closed eyes; heopened them; looked around with surprise; sat up on the pallet; and, asif suddenly remembering the sad reality, he threw himself back upon thestraw. Tears soon inundated his pale visage, and he laid his hands overhis lips in order to suppress the sobs that were struggling to escape.The poor child feared to awaken his younger brothers. They were stillsoundly asleep, and, despite the movements of Sigebert, who, as he satup, caused the head of Merovee to roll upon the straw, the latter'sprofound rest was not interrupted. Corbe, however, who was also halfawakened by the heat of the sun, rubbed his eyes and mumbled:
"Chrotechilde, I want my milk--my cake--I am hungry."
"Corbe," Sigebert whispered to him with his face bathed in tears and hislips palpitating; "brother--wake up. Alack, we are no longer in ourpalace at Chalon."
At these words, Corbe woke up completely, and answered with a sigh:
"I thought we were in our palace."
"We are not there any longer, brother; I am so sorry!"
"Why do you say that? Are we no longer the King's sons?"
"We are poor King's sons--we are here in prison. But grandmother, whereis she? And where is our brother Childebert? Where can they be? Perhapsthey also are prisoners."
"And whose fault is it? It is the fault of the army that betrayed us!"cried little Corbe angrily. "I heard everybody say so around us--thetroops fled without striking a blow. I heard them say that DukeWarnachaire prepared the treason! Oh, the scoundrel!"
"Not so loud, Corbe, not so loud!" cautioned Sigebert with a smotheredvoice. "You will wake up Merovee--poor little fellow! I wish I couldsleep like him. I would not then be thinking."
"You are always weeping, Sigebert; tell me why?"
"Are we not now in the hands of our grandmother's enemies?"
"Be not afraid; she will soon come with another army and set us free;she will kill Clotaire. Are you not hungry?"
"No! Oh, no! I am neither hungry nor thirsty."
"The sun has long been up; they will surely soon bring us something toeat. Grandmother was right; war is tiresome and uncomfortable, but onlywhen one is not a prisoner. But how Merovee does sleep! Wake him up!"
"Oh, brother, let him sleep quietly; perhaps he also thinks, as you did,that he is in our palace at Chalon."
"So much the worse! We woke up--I do not want him to sleep anylonger--why should he?"
"Corbe, you can not have a good heart."
"Sigebert! They are opening the door--they are bringing us something toeat."
Indeed, the door opened. Four personages stepped into the house. Two ofthem were clad in jackets of hides, and one of these carried a roll ofrope. Clotaire II and Warnachaire accompanied the two men. The duke hadhis battle armor on, the King a long light blue silk robe bordered withermine.
"Seigneur King," said Duke Warnachaire in a low voice, "will you notwait for the return of Constable Herpon?"
"Who can tell whether he will be back to-day?"
"You must remember that his horses are fresh; Brunhild's are exhaustedwith the march. It is impossible that he should have failed to overtakethe Queen at the foot of the Jura mountains, into which she will notdare to risk herself. The constable may be back with her from one momentto another."
"Warnachaire, I am in a hurry to be done with it; such a blow will beof little moment to Brunhild; why delay it to wait for her to witness?It should be done quickly."
Saying this, the young King made a sign to the two men, who thereuponstepped towards the three children on the straw pallet. The sleep ofchildhood is so profound that little Merovee was not yet awakened by thenoise. His two brothers, however, crouched back into the remotest cornerof the pallet, stunned and frightened, especially at the sinister facesof the two men clad in hide jackets. The two cowering children held eachother in a close embrace, trembling and without uttering a word. At asecond sign from Clotaire II, one of the two men, he who carried thecoil of rope, unwound it and stepped closer to the children, while hiscompanion drew from his belt a long, straight and sharp knife, of thekind that is used by butchers; he slightly tested the freshly sharpenededge of the blade with the tip of his thumb, while Fredegonde's sonurged the executioners on with the impatient order:
"Move on, slaves; hurry up!"
The executioner made to the King a sign with his hand, as if to say:"You need not fear, I shall be quick about it." In the meantime hisassistant had come within reach of the children, who, livid and dumbwith terror, trembled so convulsively that their teeth were heard tochatter. The executioner's assistant placed a hand on each, and withoutturning his head asked:
"Which first? The taller, the smaller, or the one asleep?"
"Begin with the eldest," answered Clotaire II in a hollow imperiousvoice. "Hurry up! Hurry up!"
The two children retreated still farther back into the corner in whichthe pallet was placed and did not loosen their hold upon each other.
"Mercy!" cried Sigebert in a smothered and plaintive voice. "Mercy formy brother! Mercy for me!"
"We are a King's sons!" cried Corbe with even more anger than fear. "Ifyou do any harm to me, my grandmother will have you all killed!"
At this moment, awakened at last by the noise, little Merovee sat up onthe pallet and looked around with wonderment but not in terror. Thesix-year-old child could not understand what was going on; he rubbed hiseyes and turning his little head, with his eyes still swollen withsleep, hither and thither, he looked alternately from the four newarrivals to his brothers, as if asking what it all meant. The Kinghaving said "Begin with the eldest," the assistant seized Sigebert. Moredead than alive, the hapless child offered no resistance, but lethimself be bound hands and feet, as the lamb does in theslaughter-house; he only murmured in a woebegone voice:
"Seigneur King! Good seigneur King, do not have us killed--why would youhave us killed? We are willing to be slaves. Send us out to herd yoursheep far away from here; we shall obey you in all things; but, O,seigneur, mercy, good seigneur King, mercy! Mercy for my two littlebrothers and for me!"
As a worthy grandson of Clotaire I, Clotaire II remained unmoved by theprayers of his victim.
Sigebert passed from the hands of the assistant to those of theexecutioner. The child's arms were bound behind his back, and his feetwere tied togethe
r; his physical prostration rendered him unable to keepupon his feet. He fell upon his knees before the slaughterer. The lattertook hold of the child by its long hair and firmly bending its neck backagainst his own knee left the child's throat well distended and exposedto the knife. With a smothered voice and casting an agonizing glance atthe mayor of the palace Sigebert murmured:
"Warnachaire, you who called me during our late journey your 'dear boy,'will you not implore mercy for me--"
These were the innocent child's last words. Clotaire II gave a motion ofimpatience. The executioner approached his knife to the child's throat,but doubtlessly experiencing a fleeting sentiment of pity, he turned hishead aside and shut his eyes as if to escape seeing the dying glance ofhis victim. The movement was but transitory, the long knife quicklyplowed its way through the child's throat and, operated as a saw, cutdown until it struck the vertebrae of the neck. Two jets of purple bloodspurted from the wide-gaping wound and fell in opposite directions likea ruddy dew on a fold of the robe of Fredegonde's son and upon the irongreaves of Duke Warnachaire. Withdrawing his knee which had served himfor a block, the executioner left the body to its own weight. It fellbackward; the inert head rebounded upon the floor; a slight tremor ranover the expiring child's shoulders and limbs, and the lifeless body ofSigebert sank motionless in a pool of blood.
During the time that the murder of Sigebert was enacting, Merovee weptscalding tears on the straw where he remained seated; the child weptbecause, as he murmured, 'they were hurting' his brother, but with oneso young no thought of death could enter his head. His brother Corbe,however, a boy of violent and vindictive character, did not emulate thegentle resignation of Sigebert. He fought and shrieked, and tried tobite and scratch the assistant who was to bind him fast. The latter wasonly tying the last knots when the first child's throat was cut.
"Dogs! Murderers!" cried Corbe in his weak, shrill voice, while his eyesflashed fire from the midst of his pale face. He straightened himselfand he writhed so convulsively in his bonds that the executioner washardly able to hold him. "Oh!" he screamed, grinding his teeth andpanting for breath in the struggle; "Oh, my grandmother will put you allto the torture for this--you will see--you will see--Pog will get you,yes--every one of you--you will be put to awful tortures!"
Turning towards the mayor of the palace of Burgundy, Clotaire II said,pointing his finger at Corbe: "Warnachaire, it would have beenimpolitic to leave this hateful and vindictive child alive! Even ifdethroned he would have become a dangerous man."
It took both the Frankish executioners to overpower Corbe. But neitherhis screams nor leaps could avail him. Seeing that he struggledviolently in his bonds, the assistant knelt down upon the child's chestin order to pin him to the ground, while the executioner himself woundaround his wrist the long hair of the young prince, and was thus able todraw the head towards himself so as to leave the neck distended andexposed to the knife. A second time the blade cut into the flesh; asecond time the blood spurted out--and the corpse of Corbe rolled overupon that of his brother.
Only little Merovee was left. The child had remained on the strawpallet. Whether out of ignorance of the danger that he was in, orwhether due to the thoughtlessness of infancy, when he saw theexecutioner's assistant approach him, he rose, walked towards himsubmissively, and referring to the resistance that Corbe offered, saidwith infantine innocence as he wiped off his tears:
"My brother Sigebert did not resist--I shall be as gentle asSigebert--but do not hurt me."
Saying this the child then threw his little blonde head back and himselfoffered his neck to the executioner.
At that instant, a rider covered with dust burst into the house cryingin a voice half choked with gladness:
"Great King! I have ridden ahead of Constable Herpon. He brings QueenBrunhild prisoner. After two days of the hottest chase, he succeeded inovertaking her at Orbe, in the foot-hills of the Jura."
"Oh, my mother! You will soon thrill with joy in your sepulchre. I have,at last, in my power the woman whom you were not able to smite!"exclaimed the son of Fredegonde. He then turned to the executioners whostill held Merovee in their hands: "Do not kill that child--let him betaken to my tent. Wait for my orders. You do not know, oh, great Queen,what glory awaits you!" added Clotaire II with an expression of diabolicferocity. And addressing Warnachaire: "Let us now go out and give aworthy reception to this daughter of a King, this wife of a King, thisgrandmother and great-grandmother of Kings--Brunhild, Queen of Burgundyand Austrasia! Come, come!"