At this point Loysik was suddenly interrupted by a voice that proceeded from a bush near the oak tree, shouting:

"Relapsed! Sacrilegious wretch! Worshiper of Mammon! Hermit of the devil! Prop of Beelzebub! You shall be burned for a heretic!"

It was the voice of Bishop Cautin. And almost at the same instant, from afar, from the side where the Vagres were finishing their night of wa.s.sail, these other cries were heard through the stillness of the approaching dawn:

"On guard! On guard! The leudes of Count Neroweg are approaching! The count himself is at their head!"

"On guard! The leudes of Count Neroweg are approaching! To arms! To arms!"

Awakened from her restful sleep by the tumult and hearing the cries of the Vagres, little Odille screamed with terror as she threw herself on the neck of Ronan:

"Count Neroweg! Save me!"

"Fear not, poor child!"

And addressing Loysik, Ronan added:

"Brother, fate sends to us a descendant of that family of Neroweg, whom our ancestor Schanvoch fought two centuries ago on the borders of the Rhine. I wish to kill that barbarian, rid Gaul of him, and protect our own family from the peril of his descendants--"

"Kill me!" murmured Odille, falling on her knees before the Vagre and clasping her hands. "I prefer to die at your hands rather than to fall back into the hands of the count--"

Touched by the girl's despair and of course unable to foresee the issue of the pending combat, Ronan remained pensive for a moment. He looked around. His eyes fell upon a spreading branch of the oak tree near which they stood. He leaped up, seized it, and bending it down said to his brother:

"Loysik, sit Odille on this branch; when it straightens up again it will carry the poor child up; she will then be able to reach the thicker foliage, and keep herself concealed until the end of the combat. I shall forthwith a.s.semble the Vagres. Courage, little Odille, I shall return after the battle--"

And he ran towards his companions, while the slave, whom Loysik had placed upon the branch, disappeared in the midst of the thick foliage waving her hands at Ronan.

Dawn was lighting the forest. The tops of the trees were crimsoned with the first fires of the orb of day. The Vagres, who just announced the approach of Count Neroweg and his leudes, had taken a path across the thicket that was impracticable for the horses of the Franks, a good deal shorter than the road that these were obliged to take in order to arrive at the clearing where the Vagres had halted for the night. The larger number of the Vagres being in their cups and exhausted with singing and dancing, were asleep on the lawn. Awakened with a start by the cries of the outposts, they rushed to their arms. The slaves, the colonists, the women, the ruined proprietors, who joined the Vagres on the previous day were differently affected at the tidings of the approach of the leudes.

Some trembled from head to foot; others fled into the thickest of the forest; still others, a goodly number, preserved their courage, and hastily sought for means of the defense. In default of better weapons they supplied themselves with heavy knotted staves that they cut from the trees. The Vagres themselves numbered about a dozen excellent archers, others were armed with axes, iron maces, pikes, swords and scythes with the blades turned outward. At the first cry of alarm, the brave fellows gathered around Ronan and the hermit. Should battle be engaged with the leudes? Was it better to flee before them and await a better opportunity for an offensive stroke? Only few were for flight; the majority favored immediate battle.

While the council of war was being held two other pickets rushed to the clearing. They had concealed themselves in the underwood, and had been able to count with approximate accuracy the number of leudes whom the count led. There were barely a score on horseback; they were well armed; but fully a hundred foot soldiers followed these and were armed with pikes and clubs. Some were Franks, others were from the city of Clermont, whom the count requisitioned in the name of the King for the pursuit of the Vagres. Several of Bishop Cautin's slaves, who, out of fear of h.e.l.l fire, did not wish to run the Vagrery after the burning of the episcopal villa, swelled the foot soldiers of Count Neroweg. Ronan's troop numbered at most a score of men.

The council of war decided to engage in a general battle.

CHAPTER X.

THE MIRACLE OF ST. CAUTIN.

It is half an hour since the approach of Count Neroweg and his leudes was announced by the pickets. The Vagres have disappeared. There remains in the clearing where they feasted during the night naught but the remains and evidences of their sumptuous banquet on the lawn--empty wine pouches, gold and silver goblets strewn over the gra.s.sy and trampled ground; not far away stand the wagons that were brought from the episcopal villa, and further off the carca.s.ses of the oxen lying near the still smouldering bake-oven. The silence in the forest is profound.

Presently, one of the slaves of the villa, one of the pious guides of the leudes, emerges from the thicket that surrounds the clearing. He steps forward diffidently, listens and looks around as if apprehensive of an ambuscade. At the sight of the evidences of the feast that lie strewn about, he seems astonished and quickly turns around. Doubtlessly his first impulse is to return to the troop which he precedes, but as his eyes fall that instant upon the gold and silver vases that lie upon the gra.s.s, he stops, turns back, runs to the booty, s.n.a.t.c.hes up a gold chalice and as quickly hides it under his rags. He thereupon lifts up his voice and calls to the leudes.

A distant and steadily approaching noise is heard in the woods. The bushes break down before the chests and under the iron hoofs of the horses. Voices call and answer. Finally Count Neroweg breaks through the thicket. He is on horseback and closely followed by several leudes. Most of his troop, as well as the footmen, being less impetuous than himself, follow at safer distance through the hedges on the way to join their master. Neroweg had expected to fall unperceived upon the Vagres. There was, however, not a soul in sight except the slave who now ran towards him crying:

"Seigneur, the impious Vagres who sacked the villa of our holy bishop have fled into the forest."

Neroweg raised his long sword and with one blow cut off the slave's head:

"Dog! You deceived me! You were in conspiracy with the Vagres!"

The slave's lifeless body sank to the ground, and the hidden gold chalice rolled over the gra.s.s.

"That gold vase is mine!" cried the count pointing at the chalice with his sword to one of his men who followed him on foot. "Karl, put that into your bag--"

These thieves always had close to their heels several men with bags ready for booty. But just as Karl was about to follow his master's orders, the latter's eyes fell upon the other articles of gold and silver that were taken from the episcopal villa and which now glistened attractively in the filtering rays of the rising sun. Neroweg put the spurs to his horse, and bounding forward cried:

"Those treasures are mine! Fill up your bag, Karl. Call Rigomer and have him fill his bag with all that it can contain!"

"The booty is not all for you alone, we have our share!" cried the leudes who now entered upon the clearing. "All these treasures must be divided alike--we are your equals!"

"We are equals in battle--equals also in the dividing of the booty--it is but fair--"

"Do you forget that at the pillage of Soissons even the great Clovis himself did not dare to dispute a gold vase with one of his warriors?"

"These treasures are ours as much as yours--we shall divide on the spot--"

The count did not dare resist the demands of his leudes. Although these warriors ever recognized him as their chief, they likewise ever treated him as their equal. Several of the plunderers now alighted from their horses and cast covetous glances at the chalices, their covers and other articles of the Church, together with the goblets, dishes, bowls and many other gold and silver utensils. Carried away by their greed, the leudes precipitated themselves upon the treasures, pushing and shoving one another, and were in the act of reaching out their hands to s.n.a.t.c.h up the precious goods, when a loud voice, that seemed to descend from the heavens above, thundered down upon them:

"Hands off, sacrilegious men! G.o.d hears you! G.o.d sees you! If you dare to reach out impious hands at the goods of the Church you will be d.a.m.ned forever!"

At the sound of the voice that seemed to come from heaven Neroweg grew pale, trembled at every limb, dropped from his horse and fell upon his knees. Several of the leudes followed his example and humbly prostrated themselves. They were terror-stricken!

"All on your knees, pagans that you are!" proceeded the voice in still more threatening accents. "All down on your knees! Accursed pillagers of the Church!"

The last of the leudes who still remained on their feet dropped distractedly on their knees, and with them the rest of the troop that followed on foot and were now upon the scene. The affrighted crowd bowed their heads to earth and smote their chests murmuring:

"A miracle! A miracle! It is the voice of the Lord!"

"And now, ye miserable sinners," the voice from above proceeded to thunder in tones increasingly wrathful, "now that you have bowed down to earth before the eye of the Lord and have attested your fear of His wrath, rise and hasten to help His servant who--"

The voice suddenly stopped short; the branches of a tall oak, near which Neroweg and his leudes lay upon their knees, bent and cracked under the weight of a heavy body that was rolling down, and thus broke its fall as it landed upon the ground, but so near to the count that the latter narrowly escaped being crushed by it. This additional phenomenon added to the terror of Neroweg and his leudes; the whole troop threw themselves down flat upon their faces and murmured in their fright:

"Oh Lord! Oh Lord! Have mercy upon us! Oh Lord, turn Your wrath from us!"

And what was it that actually tumbled down from the tree? It was Bishop Cautin, and his was the voice that had sounded from on high. Just before the arrival of the Franks, Ronan had p.r.i.c.ked the holy man with the point of his sword, and forced him to clamber up the tree before him and keep himself there like a fat dormouse. Ronan accompanied the holy man up the tree, and with the point of his sword drove him to speak in the name of the Lord. Ronan's purpose was served so long as the holy man limited himself to throwing Neroweg and his leudes into consternation, but as soon as the bishop evinced an inclination to call them to his aid, the Vagre seized him. The sudden move choked off Cautin's sentence before he finished, the rotund and heavy bishop slipped, and tumbling down from branch to branch fell almost upon the back of the count. But the man of G.o.d was a wily customer. Although dazed for a moment by his fall, he quickly profited by the terror in which the Franks and the slaves were thrown as they lay face down, flat upon the earth. He steadied himself upon his legs, and rubbed his sore limbs, and puffing his cheeks he shouted:

"Miserable sinners! Adore your holy bishop who redescends from heaven upon the wings of the Lord's archangels!"

"A miracle!" again cried the crowd with even intenser unction, and smiting their chests with redoubled fervor. "A miracle!"

"Holy Bishop Cautin, who descends from heaven--protect us!"

"Is it your voice I hear, holy father?" queried Neroweg in a subdued voice without daring to raise his face from the ground or looking up.

"Is it your own voice, holy bishop, or is it a snare that Satan spreads for us?"