CHAPTER X.
THE LAST CALL TO ARMS.
But for my uncertainty concerning the fate of my children, immediatelyupon the "horse-dealer's" departure I would have killed myself bybutting my head against the wall of my prison, or by refusing allnourishment. Many Gauls had thus escaped the doom of slavery. But I feltthat I should not die before doing what I could to snatch them from thedestiny which menaced them.
I examined my room to see whether, my strength once restored, there wasany chance for escape. Three sides of the room were solid wall, theother was a thick partition re-enforced with beams, between two of whichopened the door which was always carefully bolted without. A bar of ironcrossed the window, leaving an opening too narrow to give me passage. Iexamined my chain, and the rings, one of which was riveted to my leg,the other to one of the cross-bars of the bed. It was impossible for meto unchain myself, even at my greatest strength. I then thought of aplan, a trick, to put myself in the good graces of the "horse-dealer,"so as to obtain from him information of my little Sylvest and Syomara.With that end in view, it would not do to repine, to appear sad orafraid of the lot reserved for the children. I feared I might not beable to carry out the role, for I came of a race unaccustomed to deceitand lying. The Gauls either triumphed or died.
On the evening of that same day when, regaining consciousness, I hadbecome aware of my slavery, I witnessed a spectacle of terriblegrandeur. It raised my courage. I could no longer despair for the safetyand liberty of Gaul. The night was about to fall, when I heard thetramping of several troops of cavalry arriving at a walk in the greatpublic square of Vannes, which I could see from the narrow window of myprison. I looked out, and beheld the following scene.
Two cohorts of Roman infantry, and one of cavalry, both in battle array,surrounded a vacant space, in the middle of which rose a large scaffoldof timber. On the platform was a heavy block, such as is used forchopping meat on. Beside the block stood a Moor of gigantic stature andbronzed of color. His arms and legs were bare, his hair was bound with ascarlet band; he wore a coat and a pair of short trousers of tannedskin, splashed here and there with dark red; in his hand was an axe.
In the distance sounded the long clarions of the Romans, playing afuneral march. The sound drew nearer. One of the cohorts that were drawnup on the square opened its ranks, forming a double row. Through thislane the clarioneers entered. They preceded a troop of steel-cladlegionaries. After the troop came the prisoners taken in the Gallicarmy, tied two and two. Then came the women and children, also inbonds. More than two stone's throws separated me from these captives. Atsuch a distance I could not distinguish their features, try as I might.Nevertheless, my little son and daughter might be among them. Theprisoners, of all ages and sexes, closed in by the two rows of soldiers,were stationed at the foot of the platform. Still more troops marchedinto the square; after them, five and twenty captives were led in, insingle file, but not chained. I recognized them by their free andhaughty pace. They were the chiefs and elders of the town and tribe ofVannes, all white-haired fathers.[22] Among them, marching last, Idistinguished two druids and a bard of the college of the forest ofKarnak, marked, the first by their long white robes, the second by histunic striped with purple. Then appeared more Roman infantry; finally,between two escorts of white-robed Numidian cavalry, Caesar, onhorse-back, in the midst of his officers. I recognized the scourge ofGaul by his armor, which was the same he wore when, aided by my brotherMikael the armorer, I was carrying him off in full panoply on my horse.Oh, how at the sight of the man I cursed anew my stupid astonishment,that so unfortunately proved the safety of my country's butcher.
Caesar drew rein a short distance from the platform, and made a signwith his hand. Immediately the twenty-five prisoners, the bard anddruids passing last, mounted with calm tread the steps of the scaffold.One by one they placed their white heads on the block, and each one ofthe venerable heads, stricken off by the axe of the Moor, rolled at thefeet of the bound captives.
The bard and the two druids were the only ones left. The three rushedtogether in a final embrace, they raised their faces and their handstowards heaven, and intoned in a loud voice the song of Hena, the virginof the isle of Sen, uttered at the hour of her voluntary sacrifice onthe rocks of Karnak, that song which had been the signal for the risingof Brittany against the Romans:
"Hesus, Hesus! By the blood which is about to flow, clemency for Gaul!"
"Gauls, by the blood which is about to flow, victory to our arms!"
And the bard added:
"The Chief of the Hundred Valleys is safe. There is hope for our arms!"
Thereupon all the Gallic captives, men, women, and children present atthe execution, all together repeated the last words of the druids,acclaiming them with so powerful a voice that the air shook even in myprison. After that supreme chant, the three placed their sacred heads inturn upon the block, and went the same way as the elders of Vannes. Asthe bard's and the druids' heads rolled upon the scaffold, all thecaptives took up the war-cry of the druids--"Strike the Roman! Strike atthe head!"--in a voice so fierce and menacing that the legionaries,lowering their lances, hurriedly surrounded the unarmed and chainedprisoners in a circle of iron, bristling with lance heads. But thatmighty voice of their brothers and sisters had reached the wounded menshut up in the slave-shed, and all, myself included, answered therefrain:
"Strike the Roman! Strike! Strike at the head! Strike the Roman hard!"
Thus ended the war in Brittany. Thus ended the call to arms made by thedruids from the heights of the sacred rocks of the forest of Karnak,after the sacrifice of Hena--the call to arms that led to the battle ofVannes. But in my lonely cell I did not yet lose hope. Our native Gaul,although invaded on all sides, would still resist. The Chief of theHundred Valleys, forced to leave Brittany, had gone to arouse theregions still unvanquished.