"Neroweg!" cried Chram interposing, as his favorite, who had shaken himself loose from Sigefrid, rushed at the count with upraised sword, "are you all fools to quarrel in this manner? Lion, I order you to put up your sword."

"Oh, great St. Martin, blessings upon your name for giving me the opportunity to chastise the sacrilegious whelp who had the audacity to raise his switch at my holy bishop, and who has never ceased sneering at both the holy man and me since he stepped into my burg," cried the count, deaf to the words of Chram, and striving to reach his adversary, from whom he had been again separated in the midst of the uproar.

"Boys, let us defend Neroweg!" Sigefrid called out to his fellow leudes of the count. "This is a good opportunity to prove to the braggards that our rough-looking swords are better than their parade weapons! To arms!

Down with them to the last man!"

"And we also to arms! let us settle accounts with these dogs of the bas.e.m.e.nt! They think they are strong, because they are on their own dunghill. Death to the clowns. Let us defend the favorite of King Chram, our King! Swing your axes!"

"My dear sons in G.o.d," screamed the bishop in a vain endeavor to dominate the tumult and the increasing uproar, "I order you, all of you, to put up your swords! It is an affliction to the Lord to see His sons quarrel over trifles. Obey your father in G.o.d!"

"My friends!" cried Chram in his turn but without being able to make himself heard, "it is folly, it is stupidity to slay one another in this wise. Imnachair! Spatachair! calm our men; and you, Neroweg, calm yours instead of exciting them!"

Vain words; they dropped unheard; neither Neroweg nor the rest of the leudes did or cared to listen to words of conciliation. As to Neroweg himself, a ma.s.s of combatants had again thrown themselves between him and the Lion of Poitiers, to whom he called in an enraged voice and struggled to reach. The warriors of Chram and those of the count soon pa.s.sed from insults and threats, hurled at each other from a distance, to a hand-to-hand conflict. At the first blow the engagement became general--maddening, furious, maudlin and all the more terrible because the torch-bearing slaves, who alone lighted the hall, fearing to be killed in the brawl, fled away precipitately, some throwing their torches to the ground and thus extinguishing them, others carrying the lighted torches with them in their distracted flight. In an instant the banquet hall was deprived of its living illumination; the battle continued in the dark with blind ferocity.

And Karadeucq and the lover of the beautiful bishopess, did they remain quietly in the midst of the butchery? Oh, by no means! Vagres know better than that. After having skilfully thrown the firebrand in the midst of the leudes of the King and the count, Karadeucq saw with pleasure the flames of angry rivalry between the two sets of barbarians flare up a third time, after twice having been appeased; and it was with delight that he noticed it rage in such manner that both he and his bear were lost sight of. As soon as the conflagration which he had kindled was well under way, the old Vagre rushed to the bear, and unchaining him, said at his companion's ear: "Follow close at my heels and do as I do."

The melee was at its height; the torch-bearers had either fled or were fleeing, leaving the banquet hall in almost perfect darkness. Followed by the Master of the Hounds Karadeucq threw himself under the wide and ma.s.sive table which, although now broken in parts, was not upset by the combat, being, contrary to the habit of the Franks, fastened to the floor. Thus under shelter for a moment the old Vagre unfastened the chain from around the neck of the lover of the bishopess, whereupon continuing to grope their way under the table by the flickering light of the extinguishing torches on the floor, they reached the door of the banquet hall, which was free from the combatants, and rushed out. As they issued from the banquet hall the Vagres found themselves face to face with two slaves who, having fled through another issue, were running distracted with their torches in their hands. Each Vagre seized one of the slaves by the throat.

"Extinguish your torch," said Karadeucq, "and lead me straight to the _ergastula_, or you die this instant."

"Give me your torch," said the lover of the bishopess, "and take me straight to the hay lofts, or I stab you to death."

The two slaves obeyed; the Vagres parted company; one ran towards the hay lofts and barns, the other to the _ergastula_, both guided by their conductors.

CHAPTER IX.

THE RESCUE.

The prisoners in the _ergastula_ had drawn as close as possible to the iron railing. Little Odille, who had fallen asleep on the knees of the bishopess, awoke with a start, saying:

"Ronan, are they coming to take us to the place of execution? I am ready for everything."

"No, little Odille! it is barely midnight; I know not what may be happening at the burg; all the Franks who were watching us left their posts before our prison and followed one of their men who came after them; all ran towards the burg brandishing their arms."

"Ronan, my brother, listen in the direction of the seigniorial mansion--it seems to me I hear an odd noise proceeding from that direction."

"I hear tumultuous cries--the clash of arms."

"Ronan, the Vagres must have come to our deliverance, the burg is on fire!"

"The fire spreads--look--look--it is as clear as day in front of the prison."

"A man is running this way--why, it is Karadeucq, our father!"

"Loysik! Ronan! Oh! my sons."

"You here, father?"

"Ronan, Loysik, all of you within, join me to break down the iron railing."

"Alas! we cannot budge--our feet are all sore--we have been put to the torture!"

"To see my two sons and yet not to be able to save them--malediction!

This way, Master of the Hounds! my brave fellow, this way--let us free my sons!"

"My beautiful bishopess, are you there? Come, give me a kiss across the railing!--Your lips have pressed mine. I now feel stronger. We two, Karadeucq, will have to tear down this railing. I have set fire to the four corners of the burg--stables, barns, lofts, all is aflame. The count's main building that is now full of Franks, who are mutually slaying one another, and which is built of frame, has also taken fire; it is beginning to burn like a f.a.ggot stuck into a furnace."

"Woe is us! it is impossible to break down the railing!"

"Free us, father!"

"Oh, my sons, I shall die of rage before I fall under the axe of the Franks, if I cannot set you free."

"Come, old Karadeucq, one more effort; the Franks who guarded the _ergastula_ are now thinking of nothing else but to extinguish the fire; let us dig a hole under the railing with our poniards, with our nails."

"The Franks! There they are--they are coming back to the _ergastula_; they are running this way."

"I can see their weapons glistening by the light of the conflagration."

"Father, there is no hope left! You are lost! Blood and death, lost! And here we are, sore and incapable to defend you!"

About a score of men at arms and several leudes ran with their arms in the direction of the _ergastula_; one of them was heard to say: "A part of these dogs of slaves are profiting by the fire in order to revolt; I heard them say that they were going to set the chief of the Vagres and the rest of the prisoners free. Quick, quick, let us put them all to death--we shall afterwards see to the slaves. Who has the key to the railing?"

At the very moment when Sigefrid was handing the key to the Frankish warrior his eyes fell upon Karadeucq.

"What are you doing there, old vagabond?"

"n.o.ble youth, frightened by the fire, my bear has escaped; I am running after him--he has crouched down yonder not far from the railing. Alas, what a misfortune this fire is!"

"Sigefrid, I have unlocked the railing," said one of the Franks; "shall we begin with the men or the women?"

"I shall begin with the men!" cried Karadeucq, planting his dagger in the breast of Sigefrid.

"I also!" cried the Master of the Hounds, stabbing another one of the Franks.

"Vagrery! Vagrery! To us, all brave slaves! Death to the Franks! War upon the seigneurs! Liberty to the slaves! Long live all Gaul!"

"The Vagres!" cried the thunder-struck Franks, dumbfounded at the death of the two leudes. "The Vagres! These demons seem to rise from underground and from the depth of h.e.l.l!"

"This way!" cried Ronan in a thundering voice. "This way, my Vagres!

Kill the Franks!"

The cry was addressed to the Vagres, whom Ronan saw pouring in.

Attracted by the light of the conflagration, the signal that was agreed upon, the good, brave Vagres had crossed the fosse; but how? Was not that fosse filled with such deep slime that a man would be swallowed up in it if he attempted to cross it? Certainly, but Ronan's Vagres had, since nightfall, been prowling like wolves around a sheep fold, and carefully sounded the fosse; after which the clever lads hewed down with their axes two large ash trees that stood straight as arrows nearby, stripped off the flexible branches and with them bound the trunks closely together. The long and light improvised bridge was thrown across the fosse, and nimble as cats they crept one after another over the two trunks and reached the opposite side. During the aerial perilous pa.s.sage two of the Vagres fell off and immediately disappeared in the bottom of the fosse; they were Wolve's-Tooth and Symphorien, the rhetorician--may their names live and be blessed in Vagrery! Their companions had no sooner arrived on the other side of the fosse, than they met, running towards the _ergastula_ to liberate the prisoners, about thirty revolted slaves armed with clubs, scythes and forks. After the warriors of Chram and those of Neroweg had long fought in the dark in the banquet hall, they suddenly dropped their quarrel, and leaving the dead and wounded on the field of battle, gave no thought but to the fire--the men of the count to extinguish it, the men of Chram to save the horses and baggage of their master and take them out of the burning stable. The Franks who had hastened to the _ergastula_ in order to put the prisoners to death were only a score at the most; they were surrounded and cut to pieces by Ronan's Vagres and by the slaves, after offering a desperate resistance. Not one of these Franks escaped; no, not one! Two of the slaves took Ronan upon their shoulders, two others raised Loysik on theirs, and at the request of his bishopess the Master of the Hounds took up little Odille in his vigorous arms as one might raise a child from its cradle, the young girl being too weak to walk.

Old Karadeucq followed his two sons.