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CHAPTER II

A GALLIC HOMESTEAD

Like all other rural homes, Joel's was spacious and round of shape. The walls consisted of two rows of hurdles, the space between which was filled with a mixture of beaten clay and straw; the inside and outside of the thick wall was plastered over with a layer of fine and fattish earth, which, when dry, was hard as sandstone. The roofing was large and projecting. It consisted of oaken joists joined together and covered with a layer of seaweed laid so thick that it was proof against water.

On either side of the house stood the barns destined for the storage of the harvest, and also for the stables, the sheepfolds, the kennels, the storerooms and the washrooms.

These several structures formed an oblong square that surrounded a large yard, closed up at night with a massive gate. On the outside, a strong palisade, raised on the brow of a deep ditch, enclosed the system of buildings, leaving between it and them an alley about four feet wide. Two large and ferocious war mastiffs were let loose during the night in the vacant space. The palisade had an exterior door that corresponded with an interior one. All were locked at night.

The number of men, women and children – all more or less near relatives of Joel – who cultivated fields in common with him, was considerable. These lodged in the houses attached to the principal building, where they met at noon and in the evening to take their joint meals.

Other homesteads, similarly constructed and occupied by numerous families who cultivated lands in common, lay scattered here and there over the landscape and composed the ligniez, or tribe of Karnak, of which Joel was chosen chief.

Upon his entrance in the yard of his homestead, Joel was received with the caresses of his old war dog Deber-Trud, an animal of an iron grey color streaked with black, an enormous head, blood-shot eyes, and of such a high stature that in standing up to caress his master he placed his front paws upon Joel's shoulders. He was a dog of such boldness that he once fought a monstrous bear of the mountains of Arres, and killed him. As to his war qualities, Deber-Trud would have been worthy of figuring with the war pack of Bithert, the Gallic chieftain who at sight of a small hostile troop said disdainfully: "They are not enough for a meal for my dogs."

As Deber-Trud looked over and smelled the traveler with a doubtful air, Joel said to the animal: "Do you not see he is a guest whom I bring home?"

As if he understood the words, Deber-Trud ceased showing any uneasiness about the stranger, and gamboled clumsily ahead of his master into the house. The house was partitioned into three sections of unequal size. The two smaller ones, separated from each other and from the main hall by oaken panels, were destined, one for Joel and his wife, the other for Hena, their daughter, when she came to visit the family. The vast hall between the two served as a dining-room, and in it were performed the noon and evening in-door labors.

When the stranger entered the hall, a large fire of beech wood, enlivened with dry brush wood and seaweed burned in the hearth, and with its brilliancy rendered superfluous the light of a handsome lamp of burnished copper that hung from three chains of the same metal. The lamp was a present from Mikael the armorer.

Two whole sheep, impaled in long iron spits broiled before the hearth, while salmon and other sea fish boiled in a large pewter pot filled with water, seasoned with vinegar, salt and caraway.

The panels were ornamented with heads of wolves, boars, cerfs and of two wild bulls called urok, an animal that began to be rare in the region; beside them hung hunting weapons, such as bows, arrows and slings, and weapons of war, such as the sparr and the matag, axes, sabres of copper, bucklers of wood covered with the tough skin of seals, and long lances with iron heads, sharpened and barbed and provided with little brass bells, intended to notify the enemy from afar that the Gallic warrior approached, seeing that the latter disdains ambuscades, and loves to fight in the open. There were also fishing nets and harpoons to harpoon the salmon in the shallows when the tide goes out.

To the right of the main door stood a kind of altar, consisting of a block of granite, surmounted and covered by large oak branches freshly cut. A little copper bowl lay on the stone in which seven twigs of mistletoe stood. From above, on the wall, the following inscription looked down:

 
Abundance and Heaven
Are for the Just and the Pure.
He is Pure and Holy
Who Performs Celestial Works and Pure.
 

When Joel stepped into the house, he approached the copper basin in which stood the seven branches of mistletoe and reverently put his lips to each. His guest followed his example, and then both walked towards the hearth.

At the hearth was Mamm' Margarid, Joel's wife, with a distaff. She was tall of stature, and wore a short, sleeveless tunic of brown wool over a long robe of grey with narrow sleeves, both tunic and robe being fastened around her waist with her apron string. A white cap, cut square, left exposed her grey hair, that parted over her forehead. Like many other women of her kin, she wore a coral necklace round her neck, bracelets inwrought with garnets and other trinkets of gold and silver fashioned at Autun.

Around Mamm' Margarid played the children of Guilhern and several other of her kin, while their young mothers busied themselves preparing supper.

"Margarid," said Joel to his wife, "I bring a guest to you."

"He is welcome," answered the woman without stopping to spin. "The gods send us a guest, our hearth is his own. The eve of my daughter's birth is propitious."

"May your children when they travel, be received as I am by you," answered the stranger respectfully.

"But you do not yet know what kind of a guest the gods have sent us, Margarid," rejoined Joel; "such a guest as one would request of Ogmi for the long autumn and winter nights; a guest who in the course of his travels has seen so many curious things and wonderful that a hundred evenings would not be too many to listen to his marvelous stories."

Hardly had Joel pronounced these words when, from Mamm' Margarid and the young mothers down to the little boys and girls, all looked at the stranger with the greed of curiosity, expectant of the marvelous stories he was to tell.

"Are we to have supper soon, Margarid?" asked Joel. "Our guest is probably as hungry as myself; I am hungry as a wolf."

"The folk have just gone out to fill the racks of the cattle," answered Margarid; "they will be back shortly. If our guest is willing we shall be pleased of his company at supper."

"I thank the wife of Joel, and shall wait," said the unknown.

"And while waiting," remarked Joel, "you can tell us a story – "

But the traveler interrupted his host and said smiling:

"Friend, as one cup serves for all, so does the same story serve for all… The cup will shortly circulate from lip to lip, and the story from ear to ear… But now tell me, what is that brass belt for that I see hanging yonder?"

"Have you not also in your country the belt of agility?"

"Explain yourself, Joel."

"Here, with us, at every new moon, the lads of each tribe come to the chief and try on the belt, in order to prove that their girth has not broadened with self-indulgence, and that they have preserved themselves agile and nimble. Those who cannot hitch the belt around themselves, are hissed, are pointed at with derision, and must pay a fine. Accordingly, all see to their stomachs lest they come to look like a leathern bottle on two skittles."

"A good custom. I regret it fell into disuse in my province. And what is the purpose of that big old trunk? It is of precious wood and seems to have seen many years."

"Very many. That is the family trunk of triumph," answered Joel opening the trunk, in which the stranger saw many whitened skulls. One of them, sawn in two, was mounted on a brass foot like a cup.

"These are, no doubt, the heads of enemies who have been killed by your fathers, friend Joel? With us this sort of family charnel houses has long been abandoned."

"With us also. I preserve these heads only out of respect for my ancestors. Since more than two hundred years, the prisoners of war are no longer mutilated. The habit existed in the days of the kings whom Ritha-Gaür shaved of their hair, as you mentioned before, to make himself a blouse out of their beards. Those were gay days of barbarism, were those days of royalty. I heard my grandfather Kirio say that even as late as in the days of his father, Tiras, the men who went to war returned to their tribes carrying the heads of their enemies stuck to the points of their lances, or trailed by the hair from the breast-plates of their horses. They were then nailed to the doors of the houses for trophies, just as you see yonder on the wall the heads of wild animals."

"With us, in olden days, friend Joel, these trophies were also preserved, but preserved in cedar oil when they were the heads of a hostile chieftain."

"By Hesus! Cedar oil!.. What magnificence!" exclaimed Joel smiling. "That is the way our wives reason: 'for good fish, good sauce.'"

"These relics were with us, as with you, the book from which the young Gaul learned of the exploits of his fathers. Often did the families of the vanquished offer to ransom these spoils; but to relinquish for money a head conquered by oneself or an ancestor was looked upon as an unpardonable crime of avarice and impiousness. I say with you, those barbarous customs passed away with royalty, and with them the days when our ancestors painted their bodies blue and scarlet, and dyed their hair and beard with lime water to impart to them a copper-red hue."

"Without wronging their memory, friend guest, our ancestors must have been unpleasant beings to look upon, and must have resembled the frightful red and blue dragons that ornament the prows of the vessels of those savage pirates of the North that my son Albinik the sailor and his lovely wife Meroë have told us some curious tales about. But here are our men back from the stables; we shall not have to wait much longer for supper. I see Margarid unspitting the lambs. You shall taste them, friend, and see what a fine taste the salt meadows on which they browse impart to their flesh."

All the men of the family of Joel who entered the hall wore, like him, a sleeveless blouse of coarse wool, through which the sleeves of their jackets or white shirts were passed. Their breeches reached down to their ankles; and they were shod with low slippers. Several of these laborers, just in from the fields, wore over their shoulders a cloak of sheep-skin, which they immediately took off. All wore woolen caps, long hair cut round, and bushy beards. The last two to enter held each other by the arm; they were especially handsome and robust.

"Friend Joel," inquired the stranger, "who are those two young fellows? The statues of the heathen god Mars are not better shaped, nor have so valiant an aspect."

"They are two relatives of mine; two cousins, Julyan and Armel. They love each other like brothers… Quite recently an enraged bull rushed at Armel and Julyan saved Armel at the peril of his own life. Thanks to Hesus we are not now in times of war. But should it be necessary to take up arms, Julyan and Armel have taken 'the pledge of brotherhood'… But supper is ready… Come, yours is the seat of honor."

Joel and the unknown guest drew near the table. It was round and raised somewhat above the floor which was covered with fresh straw. All around the table were seats bolstered with fragrant grass. The two broiled muttons, now quartered, were served up in large platters of beechwood, white as ivory. There were also large pieces of salted pork and a smoked ham of wild boar. The fish remained in the large pot that they had been boiled in.

At the place where Joel, the head of the family, took his seat, stood a huge cup of plated copper that even two men could not have drained. It was before that cup, which marked the place of honor, that the stranger was placed with Joel at his left and Mamm' Margarid at his right.

The old men, the young girls and the children then ranked themselves around the table. The grown up and the young men sat down behind these in a second row, from which they rose from time to time to perform some service, or, every time that, passing from hand to hand, beginning with the stranger, the large cup was empty, to fill it from a barrel of hydromel, that was placed at a corner of the hall. Furnished with a piece of barley or wheat bread, everyone received or took a slice of broiled or salted meat, which he cut up with his knife, or into which he bit freely without the help of knife.

The old war-dog Deber-Trud, enjoying the privileges of his age and long years of service, lay at the feet of Joel, who did not forget his faithful servitor.

Towards the end of the meal, Joel having carved the wild boar ham, detached the hoof, and following an ancient custom, said to his young relative Armel, handing it to him:

"To you, Armel, belongs the bravest part! To you, the vanquisher in last evening's fight!"

At the moment when, proud of being pronounced the bravest in the presence of the stranger, Armel was stretching out his hand to take the wild boar's hoof that Joel presented to him, an exceptionally short man in the family, nicknamed "Stumpy" by reason of his small stature, observed aloud:

"Armel won in yesterday's fight because he was not fighting with Julyan. Two bullocks of equal strength avoid and fear each other, and do not lock horns."

Feeling humiliated at hearing it said of them, and before a stranger, that they did not fight together because they were mutually afraid of each other, Julyan and Armel grew red in the face.

With sparkling eyes, Julyan cried: "If I did not fight with Armel it was because someone else took my place; but Julyan fears Armel as little as Armel fears Julyan; and if you were but one inch taller, Stumpy, I would show you on the spot that, beginning with you, I fear nobody – not even my good brother Armel – "

"Good brother Julyan!" added Armel whose eyes also began to glisten, "we shall have to prove to the stranger that we do not fear each other."

"Done, Armel – let's fight with sabres and bucklers."

The two friends reached out their hands to each other and pressed them warmly. They entertained no rancor for each other; they loved each other as warmly as ever; the combat decided upon by them was a not uncommon outbreak of foolhardiness.

Joel was not sorry at seeing his kin act bravely before his guest; and his family shared his views.

At the announcement of the battle, everybody present, even the little children and young women and girls felt joyful; they clapped their hands smiling and looked at each other proud of the good opinion that the unknown visitor was to form of the courage of their family.

Mamm' Margarid thereupon addressed the young men: "The fight ends the moment I lower my distaff."

"These children are feasting you at their best, friend guest," said Joel to the stranger; "you will, in turn, have to feast them by telling them and all of us some of the marvelous things that you have seen in your travels."

"I could not do else than pay in my best coin for your hospitality, friend," answered the stranger. "I shall tell you the stories."

"Let's hurry, brother Julyan," said Armel; "I have a strong desire to hear the traveler. I can never get tired of listening to stories, but the story-tellers are rare around Karnak."

"You see, friend," said Joel, "with what impatience your stories are awaited. But before starting, and so as to give you strength, you shall presently drink to the victor with good wine of Gaul," and turning to his son: "Guilhern, fetch in the little keg of white wine from Beziers that your brother Albinik brought us on his last trip; fill up the cup in honor of the traveler."

When that was done, Joel said to Julyan and Armel:

"Now, boys, fall to with your sabres!"

CHAPTER III

ARMEL AND JULYAN

The numerous family of Joel, gathered in a semi-circle at one end of the spacious hall, impatiently awaited the combat, with Mamm' Margarid holding the place of honor. The stranger stood at her right, her husband at her left, and two of the smallest children before her on their knees. Margarid raised her distaff and gave the signal for the combat to begin; the lowering of the distaff was to be the signal for the combat to end.

Julyan and Armel stripped down to the waist, preserving their breeches only. Again they clasped hands. Each thereupon slung on his left arm a buckler of wood covered with seal-skin, armed himself with a heavy sabre of copper, and impetuously assailed each other, being all the more spurred by the presence of the stranger, before whom they were eager to display their skill and valor. Joel's guest looked more highly delighted than anyone else at the spectacle before him, and his face lighted with warlike animation.

Julyan and Armel were at it. Their eyes sparkled, not with hatred but with foolhardiness. They exchanged no words of anger but of friendly cheer, all the while dealing out terrible blows that would have been deadly had they not been skillfully parried. At every thrust, brilliantly made, or dexterously avoided, the men, women and children in the audience clapped their hands, and according as the combat ran, cried:

"Her … her … Julyan!"

"Her … her … Armel!"

Such was the effect of these cries, of the sight of the combat, of the clash of arms, that the huge mastiff Deber-Trud, the man-eater, felt the ardor of battle seize also himself, and barked wildly looking up at his master, who calmed and caressed him with his hand.

Perspiration covered the young bodies of the handsome and robust Julyan and Armel. Each other's peers in courage, vigor and agility, neither had yet wounded the other.

"Let's hurry, brother Julyan!" said Armel rushing on his companion with fresh impetus. "Let us hurry to hear the pretty stories of the stranger."

"The plow can go no faster than the plowman, brother Armel," answered Julyan.

With these words, Julyan seized his sabre with both hands, stretched himself at full length, and dealt so furious a stroke to his adversary that, although the latter threw himself back and thereby softened the blow, his buckler flew into splinters and the weapon struck Armel in the temple. The wounded man staggered for an instant and then fell flat upon his back, amid the admiring cries of "Her … her … Julyan!" from the enraptured by-standers among whom Stumpy was the loudest with the cry of "Her … her!"

After lowering her distaff as a sign that the combat was over Mamm' Margarid stepped toward the wounded combatant to give him her attention, while Joel said to his guest, reaching him the cup:

"Friend guest, you shall drink this old wine to the triumph of Julyan."

"I drink to the triumph of Julyan and also to the valiant defeat of Armel!" responded the stranger. "The courage of the vanquished youth equals that of the vanquisher… I have seen many a combat, but never have I seen greater bravery and courage displayed! Glory to the family of Joel!.. Glory to your tribe!"

"Formerly," said Joel, "these festive combats took place among us almost every day. Now they are rarer; they have been replaced by wrestling matches; but sabre combats better recall the habits of the old Gauls."

Mamm' Margarid shook her head after a second inspection of the wound, while Julyan steadying himself against the wall sought to hold up his friend. One of the young women hurried with a casket of lint and salves, in which was also a little vial of mistletoe water. Armel's wound bled copiously; it was staunched with difficulty; the wounded youth's face was pale and his eyes closed.

"Brother Armel," said Julyan to him in a cheerful voice, on his knees beside the prostrate Armel, "do not break down for so little… Each has his day and his hour… To-day you were wounded, to-morrow will be my turn… We fought bravely… The stranger will not forget the young men of Karnak and of the family of Joel, the brenn of the tribe."

His face down, his forehead bathed in cold perspiration, Armel seemed not to hear the voice of his friend. Mamm' Margarid again shook her head, ordered some burnt coal, that was brought her on a little flat stone and threw on it some of the pulverized mistletoe bark. A strong vapor rose from the little brasier, and Mamm' Margarid made Armel inhale it. A little after he opened his eyes, looked around as if he awoke from a dream, and said feebly:

"The angel of death calls me… I shall now live no longer here but yonder… My father and mother will be surprised and pleased to see me so soon… I also shall be happy to meet them."

A second later he added regretfully:

"How I would have liked to hear the pretty stories of the traveler!"

"What, brother Armel!" said Julyan, visibly astonished and grieved. "Are you to depart so soon from us? We were enjoying life so well together… We swore brotherhood and never to leave each other!"

"We did so swear, Julyan," Armel answered feebly, "but it is otherwise decreed."

Julyan dropped his head upon his two hands and made no answer.

Mamm' Margarid, skillful in the art of tending wounds, an art that she learned from a druid priestess her relative, placed her hand on Armel's heart. A few seconds later she said to those near her and who, together with Joel and his guest, stood around:

"Teutates calls Armel away to take him to those who have preceded us. He will soon depart. If any of us has any message for the loved ones who have preceded us yonder, and wishes Armel to carry it – let him make haste."

Mamm' Margarid thereupon kissed the forehead of the dying young man and said to him: "Give to all the members of our family the kiss of remembrance and hope."

"I shall give them, Mamm' Margarid, the kiss of remembrance and hope in your name," answered Armel in a fainting voice, and added again in a pet, "and yet I would so much have liked to hear the pretty stories of the traveler!"

These words seemed deeply to affect Julyan, who still holding his friend's head looked down upon him with sadness.

Little Sylvest, the son of Guilhern, a child of rosy cheeks and golden hair, who held with one hand the hand of his mother Henory, advanced a little and addressing the dying relative said:

"I loved little Alanik very much; he went away last year… Tell him that little Sylvest always remembers him, and embrace him for me, Armel."

"I shall embrace little Alanik for you, little Sylvest," and Armel added again, "and yet I would have liked to hear the pretty stories of the traveler!"

Another man of Joel's family said to his expiring kinsman:

"I was a friend of Houarne of the tribe of Morlech, our neighbor. He was killed defenceless, while asleep, a short time ago. Tell him, Armel, that Daoulas, his murderer, was discovered, was tried and condemned by the druids of Karnak and his sacrifice will soon take place. Houarne will be pleased to learn of Daoulas' punishment."

Armel signified that he would convey the message to Houarne.

Stumpy, who, not through wickedness but intemperate language, was the cause of Armel's death, also drew near with a message to the one about to depart, and said:

"You know that at the eighth face of this month's moon old Mark, who lives near Glen'han was taken ill; the angel of death told him also to prepare for a speedy departure. Old Mark was not ready. He wished to assist at the wedding of his daughter's daughter. Not being ready to go, old Mark bethought him of some one who might be ready to go in his place and that would satisfy the angel of death. He asked the druid, his physician, if he knew of some 'substitute.' The druid answered him that Gigel of Nouaren, a member of our tribe, would be available, that he might consent to depart in the place of old Mark, and that he might be induced to do so both out of kindness to Mark and to render himself agreeable to the gods, who are always pleased at the sight of such sacrifices. Gigel consented freely. Old Mark made him a present of ten pieces of silver with the stamp of a horse's head, which Gigel distributed among his friends before departing. He then cheerfully emptied his last cup and bared his breast to the sacred knife amid the chants of the bards. The angel of death accepted the substitute. Old Mark attended the wedding of his daughter's daughter, and to-day he is in good health – "

"Do you mean to say that you are willing to depart in my stead, Stumpy?" asked the dying warrior. "I fear it is now too late – "