TO BATTLE!
Upon leaving Victoria's house I hastened home to arm myself and take my
horse. From all parts of the camp trumpets and clarions were heard
blowing signals. When I entered my house I found Sampso and my wife,
whom the tidings of the landing of the Franks had speedily reached,
busily engaged getting my arms ready. Ellen was vigorously furbishing my
steel cuirass, the polish of which was soiled by the fire that was
kindled upon it the day before by order of Neroweg, the Terrible Eagle
and powerful king of the Franks.
"You are truly a soldier's wife," I said smiling to Ellen, seeing her
provoked at not being able to restore the tarnished spot to the
brilliancy of the rest of the cuirass. "The brilliancy of your husband's
armor is your own greatest ornament."
"If we were not so much pressed for time," Ellen answered, "we would
have succeeded in furbishing off this black spot. Sampso and I have for
the last hour been wondering how you managed to blacken and tarnish your
armor in this manner."
"They look like traces of fire," said Sampso, who was actively engaged
polishing my casque with a piece of smooth skin. "Only fire can tarnish
the polish of steel in that way."
"You have guessed right, Sampso," I answered her laughing and taking up
my sword, my battle axe and my dagger; "there was a big fire in the camp
of the Franks; those hospitable folks insisted that I draw near to the
brasier; the evening was cool, and I hugged the fire a little too
closely."
"I perceive that the announcement of battle throws you into a mirthful
mood, my Schanvoch," put in my wife. "That is like you, I have long
noticed it."
"And the announcement of battle does not sadden you, my Ellen, because
you have a stout heart."
"I draw my strength from the faith of our fathers, my Schanvoch. It
teaches me that we proceed to live in other worlds in the company of
those whom we have loved in this," Ellen sweetly answered me while she
and Sampso helped to buckle on my cuirass. "That is why I put into
practice our mothers' maxim that the Gallic woman never grows pale when
her brave husband departs for battle, and that she reddens with joy at
his return. And if he does not return, she is proud at the knowledge
that he died as a brave man, and every evening she says to herself: 'One
more day has passed, one more step is taken towards those unknown
worlds, where we shall meet our dear ones again.'"
"Let us not talk of absence but of return," said Sampso, offering me my
casque, which she had so carefully polished with her own hands that she
could have seen her sweet face in the burnished steel. "You have always
been so lucky in war, Schanvoch, that I feel sure you will return to
us."
"I rely on your faith, dear Sampso. I depart happy in the knowledge of
your sisterly affection, and of Ellen's love. I shall return happy,
above all if I shall have been able to leave a fresh mark on the face of
a certain king of those Frankish skinners of human bodies, as a token
of acknowledgment for the loyalty of the hospitality that he yesterday
bestowed upon me. But here I am armed. A kiss to my little Alguen, and
then to horse!"
As I was about to proceed to my wife's room, Sampso held me back,
saying:
"Brother--what of the strange woman?"
"You are right, Sampso; I forgot all about her."
As a matter of precaution I had locked Elwig's room. I knocked at the
door and called out to her:
"Shall I come in?"
I received no answer. Alarmed at the silence I opened the door. Elwig
sat on the edge of the couch with her head in her hands, in the
identical posture that I saw her last.
"Did sleep bring you rest?"
"There is no more sleep for me!" she answered brusquely. "Riowag is
dead! I weep for my lover!"
"My wife and sister will take you at noon to Victoria the Great. She
will treat you as a friend. I announced to her your arrival in our
camp."
The sister of Neroweg, the Terrible Eagle, shrugged her shoulders with
indifference.
"Do you need anything?" I asked her. "Would you eat or drink?"
"I want water--I am thirsty--"
Despite the priestess' refusal to eat, Sampso went for some
provisions--a pitcher of water, some bread and fruits--and placed them
near Elwig, who remained motionless and mute. I again locked the door
and gave the key to my wife, saying:
"You and Sampso will take the poor woman to Victoria at noon. But be
careful that she is not left alone with our child--"
"Do you fear anything?"
"Everything is to be feared from those barbarian women; they are as wily
as they are ferocious. I killed her lover in defending myself against
him; she is quite capable of strangling my child out of vengeance."
You came running in at that moment, my child. Hearing my voice from your
mother's room, you left your bed and came half naked to me with your
little arms outstretched, smiling with pleasure at the sight of my
armor, the brilliancy of which pleased your eyes. Time pressed; I
embraced you, your mother and aunt tenderly. I then proceeded to saddle
my horse, my good and strong Tom-Bras,[2] whom I named in remembrance of
our ancestor Joel, who also gave the name of Tom-Bras to the spirited
stallion that he rode at the battle of Vannes. Sampso and your mother,
the latter of whom took you in her arms, accompanied me to the stable.
Your aunt helped me to put on the bridle, and, caressing his sinewy
neck, said to the war steed:
"Tom-Bras, do not leave your master in danger; save him with your
swiftness, if need be; defend him like the brave Tom-Bras of old who, as
he bore the brenn of the tribe of Karnak, attacked the Romans with his
hoofs and teeth."
"Dear Sampso," I answered smiling as I leaped into the saddle, "do not
give Tom-Bras bad advice by urging him to save me with his swiftness. A
good war horse is rapid in pursuit, slow in flight. As to plying his
teeth and hoofs, he does that to perfection; the Frankish horse that I
captured, and that he almost tore to shreds in the stable, can testify
to that. Tom-Bras is like his master; he abhors the Franks. Adieu, dear
Sampso! Adieu, my beloved Ellen! Adieu, my little Alguen!"
Casting one more look at your mother who held you in her arms, I
departed at a gallop to the parade ground, where the army was
assembling.
The distant sound of the clarions, and the neighing of the horses, to
which he responded, enlivened Tom-Bras. He bounded with vigor. I calmed
him with my voice, I patted his neck so as to control his buoyant
spirits and reserve his energy for the hard day's work ahead. When I was
near the parade ground I perceived Victoria about a hundred paces ahead
of me. She rode with an escort of several mounted officers. I quickly
joined them. Mounted on a palfrey, Tetrik rode to the left of the Mother
of the Camps; at her right rode a druid bard named Rolla, whom she
greatly esteemed for his bravery, his noble character and his poetic
talents. Several other druids were scattered among the various army
corps, and were to march beside the chiefs at the head of their several
detachments.
Coifed in the light brass helmet of the antique Minerva, which was
surmounted with the Gallic cock in gilt bronze holding an expiring lark
under his spurs, Victoria sat with proud ease her beautiful steed, whose
satin coat shimmered like silver. The housings of the prancing animal
were, like its bridle, of scarlet color, they almost reached the ground
and were partially covered by the long black robe of the Mother of the
Camps, who seemed to inspire her mount with her own self-restraint and
confidence. Her beautiful and virile visage seemed animated with martial
ardor. A light flush suffused her cheeks; her bosom heaved; her large
blue eyes shone with matchless brilliancy, under their long black
lashes. Without being noticed by her, I joined the riders of her escort.
With their banners to the breeze and their platoons of trumpeters at
their head, the cohorts passed by us one after the other on their way to
the parade ground. The officers saluted Victoria with their swords, the
banners dipped before her, and soldiers, captains and chiefs, in short,
the whole armed force cried in enthusiastic chorus:
"Greeting to Victoria the Great!"
"Greeting to the Mother of the Camps!"
Among the first soldiers of one of the cohorts that passed us, I
recognized Douarnek, one of the four oarsmen of the day before who was
wounded in the back by an arrow. Despite his recent wound, the brave
Breton marched in his place. I pricked my horse, drew near him and said:
"Douarnek, the gods send a propitious opportunity to Victorin to prove
to the army that, unworthy calumnies to the contrary notwithstanding, he
is still worthy of his post."
"You are right, Schanvoch," the Breton answered. "Let Victorin win this
battle, as he won the others, and in the joy of their triumph the
soldiers will acclaim their general and forget many a disagreeable
thing. We shall meet again, Schanvoch!"
Some Roman legions, our then allies, shared the enthusiasm of our own
troops. As they passed under the eyes of Victoria their acclamations
also greeted her. The whole army, the cavalry on the two wings, the
infantry in the center, was soon gathered on the parade ground, a vast
field that lay without the camp. It was bounded by the Rhine on one
side, on the other by the slopes of a high hill. A wide road was seen at
a distance. It wound its way and disappeared behind some woody slopes.
The casques, the arms, the banners, all of which were surmounted by the
Gallic cock wrought in gilt copper, glistened in the rays of the sun,
and presented the bright and cheerful sight that does so much to raise
the soldier's spirits. From the moment that she entered the parade
ground Victoria put her horse to a gallop in order to join her son, who,
surrounded by a group of chiefs to whom he was issuing orders, was
conspicuous in the very center of the field. No sooner had the Mother of
the Camps, whose brass helmet, black robe and white steed pointed her
out to all eyes, appeared before the front ranks of the army, than one
loud, vast, ringing cry from fifty thousand soldiers' breasts saluted
Victoria the Great!
"May that cry be heard of Hesus," my foster-sister said to the druid
bard with deep emotion. "May the gods grant Gaul a new victory! Justice
and right are on our side! We are not after conquest; we only defend our
own soil, our hearths, our families, and our freedom!"
"Our cause is holy among holy causes!" answered Rolla, the druid bard.
"Hesus will render our arms invincible!"
We rode up to Victorin. It seems to me I never saw him handsomer, or of
a more martial bearing than on that morning, clad in his brilliant steel
armor and with his casque, ornamented, like his mother's, by the Gallic
cock and the expiring lark. Victoria herself, as she approached her son,
could not keep from turning towards me and betraying her maternal pride
with a look that, perhaps, only I understood. Several officers, the
bearers of the young general's orders to the different army corps, left
at a gallop in different directions. I drew near my foster-sister and
said to her in a low voice:
"You reproach your son with no longer displaying that cool bravery that
must distinguish the general of an army. And yet, watch and see how cool
and collected he is. Do you not read in his masculine face the wise and
cautious cast of mind of the general who will not rashly risk his
soldiers' lives, or the fate of his country?"
"Your speech is sooth, Schanvoch; I saw him just as cool and collected
at the great battle of Offenbach--one of his finest, one of his most
fruitful victories. It was that victory that restored to us the Rhine
for our frontier. It drove the accursed Franks to the other bank of the
river."
"And to-day's battle will supplement the victory won at Offenbach, if,
as I expect we shall, we drive off the barbarians for all time from our
frontier."
"Brother," replied my foster-sister, "as always, you will not leave
Victorin's side?"
"I promise you."
"He is now calm. But once the action is engaged, I fear the ardor of his
blood, and his passion for battle. You know, Schanvoch, I do not fear
peril for Victorin, I am the daughter, wife and mother of soldiers; all
I fear is that, carried away by the heat of action, and anxious, even at
the risk of his life, to achieve great deeds, he put the success of this
day in jeopardy, and by his death endanger the safety of Gaul, that may
otherwise be firmly established by to-day's action."
"I shall use my full powers to convince Victorin that a general must
preserve himself for his army."
"Schanvoch," my foster-sister remarked with a tremulous voice, "you
always are the best of brothers!"
And looking towards her son, evidently anxious that none but myself be
made aware of the anxious thoughts that struggled in her maternal
breast, and her doubts concerning the firmness of his character, she
added again, in a low voice:
"You will watch over him?"
"As over my own son."
After the young general issued his last orders, he alighted from his
horse the moment he saw his mother, walked over to where she was, and
said:
"The hour has come, mother. I have taken with the other captains the
last dispositions on the plan of battle that I submitted to you and
which you approved. I have reserved ten thousand men under the command
of Robert, one of the most experienced chiefs, for the protection of the
camp. He is to receive orders from you. May the gods look down favorably
upon our arms. Adieu, mother. I shall do my best--"
Saying this he bent his knee.
"Adieu, my son. Come not back, unless you come back victorious over the
barbarians!"
As she said these words, the Mother of the Camps stooped down from her
horse and reached her hand to Victorin, who kissed it and rose.
"Be brave, my young Caesar!" the Governor of Gascony called out to my
foster-sister's son. "The fate of Gaul is in your hands--and, thanks to
the gods, your hands are powerful. Furnish me the opportunity to write
an ode on this fresh victory."
Victorin remounted his horse. A moment later our army set itself upon
the march, with the scouts on horseback riding ahead of the vanguard.
Victorin placed himself at the head of the army. We had the bank of the
Rhine on our right. A few light bodies of mounted archers rode forward
as scouts, to the end of guarding our left wing against a surprise.
Victorin called me to his side; I drove my horse abreast his own, and as
he hastened the step of his mount we were soon beyond the escort that
accompanied him.
"Schanvoch," he said to me, "you are an old and experienced soldier. I
wish to explain my plans to you. I confided the plan to the chief who is
to take my place in the event of my being killed. I wish you also to be
posted on it. You will be all the better able to help in its execution."
"I listen. Speak, Victorin."
"It is now nearly three hours since the rafts of the Franks were seen by
our scouts at about the middle of the river. Those rafts, towed by barks
and loaded with troops navigate slowly. It must have taken them fully an
hour to reach the bank and disembark on this side of the Rhine--"
"Your calculation is correct. But why did you not hasten the march of
the army in order to arrive at the spot before the Franks disembarked?
Landing forces are always in disorder. Their disorder would have favored
our attack."
"Two reasons kept me from doing so. I shall tell them to you. How long,
do you calculate, did it take the officer, who notified us of the
enemy's approach, to ride in all haste from our advanced posts to
Mayence?"
"About an hour and a half. It is nearly five leagues from there to
Mayence."
"And how long will it take an army to cover the same distance, even at
forced marches, but not rapid enough to be tired out and breathless when
it reaches the spot and offers battle?"
"It would take about three hours and a half."
"Accordingly, you will perceive, Schanvoch, that it would have been
impossible for us to have arrived in time to attack the Franks at the
moment of their landing. Those barbarians' lack of discipline is
surprising. They must have consumed considerable time in forming their
ranks. This will enable us to arrive before and wait for them at the
defile of Armstadt--the only military route open to them in order to
attack our camp, unless they throw themselves across the marsh and the
forests, where their cavalry, their principal arm, could not deploy."
"That is true."
"I temporized in order to give the Franks time to approach the defile."
"If they undertake the passage, they are lost."
"I hope so. With our swords in their loins we shall drive them back
towards the river bank. Our hundred and sixty well armed barks, that
left port under my orders and at the same time that we started on the
march, will scatter the barbarians' rafts and cut off their retreat.
Besides that, Captain Marion crossed the river with a picked body of
men; he will effect a juncture with the friendly tribes on the other
bank, and will march straight upon the Frankish camp, where the enemy
must have left a strong reserve force together with all their wagons.
These will all be destroyed!"
Victorin was thus engaged in unfolding to me his ably conceived plan of
battle, when we saw several of the scouts, who were sent forward,
running back to us at full gallop. One of these reined in his foaming
steed and cried out to Victorin:
"The army of the Franks is advancing. It can be seen at a distance from
the top of the hills. Their scouts approached the defile; they were all
shot down by the arrows of our archers who were ambushed behind the
shrubs. Not one of the Frankish scouts escaped with his life."
"Well done," replied Victorin. "Those scouts would have ridden back and
warned the Frankish army of our approach. It might not then have entered
the defile. But I shall ride forward and judge the enemy's position
myself. Follow me, Schanvoch!"
Victorin put his horse to a gallop; I did likewise. The escort followed
us; we quickly overtook and passed our vanguard, to whom Victorin gave
the order to halt. We arrived at a place that dominated the defile of
Armstadt. The rather broad road lay at our feet, hemmed in by two steep
escarpments. The one to the right seemed cut with the pick, it rose so
perpendicular over the road and formed a sort of promontory on the side
of the Rhine. The escarpment to the left consisted of a rocky series of
shelves, and served, so to speak, as the basis to the vast plateau
through the heart of which the deep and wide gully was cut. The gully or
road dipped gently till it ran out into a vast plain, bordered to the
east and north by the curve of the river, to the west by woods and
marshes, and behind us by the elevated plateau where our troops were
ordered to halt. We presently distinguished at a great distance from
where we stood and down in the direction of the plain, a large and
confused black mass. It was the army of the Franks.
Victorin remained silent for a few seconds; he attentively examined the
disposition of the enemy's forces and the field at our feet.
"My calculation and expectation did not deceive me," he observed. "The
Frankish army is twice as large as ours. If their tactics were less
savage, instead of entering the defile, as they will surely do, they
would, despite the difficulty that accompanies that sort of assault,
climb the plateau at several places simultaneously, and thereby compel
me to divide my much inferior forces in order to attack them at a large
number of places. Nevertheless, for greater certainty, and so as to lure
the enemy into the defile, I shall resort to a ruse of war. Let us
return to our vanguard; Schanvoch, the hour of battle has sounded!"
"And such an hour," I answered, "is always solemn!"
"Yes," he replied melancholically, "such an hour is always solemn,
especially for the general, who, at this bloody game of war, plays with
the lives of his soldiers and has his country's fate for stake. Come,
let us ride back, Schanvoch--and may my mother's star protect me!"
I rode back with Victorin to our troops, asking myself due to what
singular contradiction that young man, always so firm and so calculating
at the great crises of his life, showed himself below mediocrity in the
power to combat his foibles.