THE BATTLE OF VANNES.
The Chief of the Hundred Valleys took his departure, in order to address
a few words of exhortation to each tribe. Before proceeding to our post
of battle, far from the war chariots which held our wives, daughters and
children, my father, brother and myself wished to make sure by a last
look that nothing was lacking for the defense of that car which held our
dear ones. My mother, Margarid, as calm as when she held the distaff in
the corner of her own fireplace, was leaning against the oak panel which
formed the body of the chariot. She had set Henory and Martha to work,
giving more play to the straps which, fastened to pegs driven in the
edge of the chariot, secured the handles of the scythes, which were used
for defense in the same manner as oars fastened to the gunwhale of a
boat.
Several young girls and women of our kindred were occupied with other
cares. Some were preparing behind the chariots, with thick skins
stretched on cords, a retreat where the children would be under cover
from the arrows and stones thrown by the slingers and archers of the
enemy. Already the children were laughing and frolicking with joyous
cries around the half finished den. As an additional protection, my
mother Margarid, watchful in everything, had some sacks filled with
grain placed in front of the hut. Other young girls were placing, along
the interior walls of the car, knives, swords and axes, to be used in
case of need, and weighing no more on their strong white arms than did
the distaff. Two of their companions, kneeling near my mother, were
opening chests of linen, and preparing oil, balm, salt and witch-hazel,
to dress the wounds, following the example of the druidesses, near whom
the car was stationed.
At our approach the children ran gaily from the depths of their retreat
into the fore-part of the wagon, whence they stretched out their little
hands to us. Mikael, being on foot, took in his arms his son and his
daughter, while Henory, to spare me the trouble of dismounting from my
horse, reached out, one at a time, my little Syomara and Sylvest into my
arms. I seated them both before me on the saddle, and at the moment of
starting for the fight, I had the pleasure of kissing their yellow
heads. My father, Joel, then said to my mother:
"Margarid, if fortune turns against us, and the car is attacked by the
Romans, do not free the dogs until the moment of attack. The brave
animals will be only the more furious for their long wait, and will not
then stray away from where you are."
"Your advice will be followed, Joel," answered my mother. "Look and see
if these straps give the scythes enough play."
"Yes, they are free enough," answered my father, looking at some of the
straps. Then, examining the array of scythes which defended the other
side of the chariot, he broke out:
"Wife, wife! What were those girls thinking of! Look here! Oh, the
rattle heads! On this side the scythe-blades are turned towards the
shaft of the chariot, and over there they are pointed backwards!"
"It was I who had the weapons placed so," said she.
"And why are not all the blades turned the same way, Margarid?"
"Because a car is almost always attacked before and behind at once. In
that case the two rows of scythes, placed in opposite directions, are
the best defense. My mother taught me that, and I am showing the method
to these dear girls."
"Your mother saw further than I, Margarid. A good harvest time is thus
made certain. Let the Romans come and assault the car! Heads and limbs
will fall, mown down like ripe ears at the reaping! Let Hesus make it a
good one, this human harvest!"
Then, listening intently, my father said to Mikael and myself:
"Sons, I hear the cymbals of the bards and the clarions of the
_Trimarkisia_. Let us rejoin our friends. Well, Margarid, well, my
daughters,--till we meet again, here--or above!"
"Here or above, our fathers and husbands will find us pure and
unstained," answered Henory, more proud, more beautiful than ever.
"Victorious or dead you will see us again," added Madalen, a young
maiden of sixteen. "But enslaved or dishonored, no. By the glorious
blood of our Hena---- no---- never!"
"No!" said Martha, the wife of Mikael, pressing to her bosom her two
children, whom their father had just replaced in the chariot.
"These dear girls are of our race--rest easy, Joel," continued my
mother, even now calm and grave. "They will do their duty."
"Even as we will do ours. And thus will Gaul be delivered," answered my
father. "You also will do your duty, old man-eater, old Deber-Trud!"
added the brenn, stroking the enormous head of the war-dog, who in spite
of his chain, was standing up with his paws on the horse's shoulder.
"Soon will come the hour of the quarry, fine bloody quarry, Deber-Trud!
Her! Her! To the Romans!"
The mastiff and the rest of the war pack responded to these words with
furious bayings. The brenn, my brother and myself cast one last look
upon our families. My father turned his spirited stallion's head towards
the ranks of the army, and speedily came up with them. I followed my
father, while Mikael, robust and agile, holding tightly with his left
hand to the long mane of my galloping horse, ran along beside me.
Sometimes falling in with the sway of the horse, Mikael leaped with it,
and was thus raised off the ground for several steps. We two, like many
others of our tribe, had in time of peace familiarized ourselves with
the manly military exercise of the _Mahrek-Ha-Droad_. Thus the brenn, my
brother and myself rejoined our tribe and took our stand in the ranks of
battle.
The Gallic army occupied the summit of a hill about one league's
distance from Vannes. To the east their line of battle was covered by
the forest of Merek, which was filled with their best archers. To the
west they were defended by the lofty cliffs which rose from the bay of
Morbihan. At the lower end of the bay was the fleet, already weighing
anchor to proceed to the attack of the Roman galleys, which, motionless
as a flock of sea-swans, lay at rest on the waves. No longer piloted by
Albinik, the fleet of Caesar, although floated by the rising tide, still
held its position of the previous evening, for fear of running upon the
invisible rocks.
Before the army flowed the River Roswallan. The Romans would have to
ford it in order to attack us. Skillfully had the Chief of the Hundred
Valleys chosen his position. He had before him a river; behind him the
town of Vannes; on the west the sea; on the east the forest of Merek:
its border chopped down, offered insurmountable obstacles to the Roman
cavalry; and with an eye to the Roman infantry, the best of Gaul's
archers were scattered among the mighty trees.
The ground before us, on the opposite side of the river, rose in a
gentle slope. Its crest hid from us the road by which the Roman army
would arrive. Suddenly, on the summit of the slope there dashed into
view several Ares mountaineers, who had been sent out as scouts to
signal to us the approach of the enemy. They dashed down the hill at
full speed, forded the river, joined us, and breathlessly announced the
advance of the Roman army.
"Friends!" the Chief of the Hundred Valleys called out to each tribe as
he passed on horse-back before the army in battle array; "rest on your
arms until the Romans, drawn up on the other bank of the river, begin
to cross it. At that moment let the slingers and archers shower their
stones and arrows upon the enemy. Then, when the Romans are forming
their cohorts on this side, after crossing, let our whole line fall
back, leaving the reserve with the war-chariots. Then, the foot soldiers
in the center, the cavalry on the wings, let us pour down in a torrent
from the top of this rapid decline. The enemy, driven back again to the
river, will not withstand the impetuosity of our first charge!"
Immediately the hill-top opposite the army was covered by the numberless
troops of Caesar. In the vanguard marched the "Harassers," marked by the
lion's skin which covered their heads and shoulders. The old legions,
named from their experience and daring, as the "Thunderer," the "Iron
Legion," and many others whom the Chief of the Hundred Valleys pointed
out to his men, formed the reserve. We saw glittering in the sun the
arms and the distinctive emblems of the legions, an eagle, a wolf, a
dragon, a minotaur, and other figures of gilded bronze, decorated with
leaves. The wind bore to us the piercing notes of the long Roman
clarions, and our hearts leaped at the martial music. A horde of
Numidian horsemen, wrapped in long white robes, preceded the army. The
column halted a moment, and several of the Numidians went down at full
tilt to the brink of the river. In order to ascertain whether it was
fordable, they entered it on horse-back, and approached the nearer side,
notwithstanding the hail of stones and arrows which the Gallic slingers
and archers poured down upon them. More than one white robe was seen to
float upon the river current, and more than one riderless horse
returned to the bank and the Romans. Nevertheless, several Numidians, in
spite of the stones and darts which were hurled upon them, crossed the
entire breadth of the river several times. Such a display of bravery
caused the Gallic archers and slingers to hold their fire by common
accord, and do honor to such supreme valor. Courage in our enemies
pleases us; it proves them more worthy of our steel. The Numidians,
certain of having found a ford, ran to convey the news to the Roman
army. Then the legions formed in several deep columns. The passage of
the river commenced. According to the orders of the Chief of the Hundred
Valleys, the archers and slingers resumed their shooting, while Cretan
archers and slingers from the Balearic Islands, spreading over the
opposite bank, answered our people.
"My sons," said Joel to us, looking towards the bay of Morbihan, "your
brother Albinik advances to the fight on the water as we begin the fight
on land. See--our fleet has met the Roman galleys."
Mikael and I looked in the direction the brenn was pointing, and saw our
ships with their heavy leathern sails, bent on iron chains, grappling
with the galleys. The brenn spoke true. The battle was joined on land
and sea simultaneously. On that double combat depended the freedom or
slavery of Gaul. But as I turned my attention from the two fleets back
to our own army, I was struck to the heart with a sinister omen. The
Gallic troops, ordinarily such chatterers, so gay in the hour of battle
that from their ranks rise continually playful provocations to the
enemy, or jests upon the dangers of war, were now sober and silent,
resolved to win or die.
The signal for battle was given. The cymbals of the bards spoke back to
the Roman clarions. The Chief of the Hundred Valleys, dismounting from
his horse, put himself some paces ahead of the line of battle. Several
druids and bards took up their station on either side of him. He
brandished his sword and started on a run down the steep hill-side. The
druids and bards kept even pace with him, striking as they went upon
their golden harps. At that signal, our whole army precipitated itself
upon the enemy, who, now across the river, were re-forming their
cohorts.
The _Mahrek-Ha-Droad_, cavalry and footmen, of the tribes near that of
Karnak, which my father commanded, darted down the slope with the rest
of the army. Mikael, holding his axe in his right hand, was, during this
impetuous descent, almost continually suspended from the mane of my
horse, which he had seized with his left. At the foot of the slope, that
troop of the Romans called the Iron Legion, because of their heavy
armor, formed in a wedge. Immovable as a wall of steel, bristling with
spears, it made ready to receive our charge on the points of its lances.
I carried, in common with all the Gallic horsemen, a saber at my left
side, an axe at my right, and in my hand a heavy staff capped with iron.
For helmet I had a bonnet of fur, for breastplate a jacket of boar-hide,
and strips of leather were wrapped around my legs where the breeches did
not cover them. Mikael was armed with a tipped staff and a saber, and
carried a light shield on his left arm.
"Leap on the crupper!" I cried to my brother at the moment when the
horses, now no longer under control, arrived at full gallop on the
lances of the Iron Legion. Immediately we arrived within range we hurled
our iron capped staffs full at the heads of the Romans with all our
might. My staff struck hard and square on the helmet of a legionary,
who, falling backward, dragged down with him the soldier behind. Through
this gap my horse plunged into the thickest of the legion. Others
followed me. In the melee the fight grew sharp. Mikael, always at my
side, leaped sometimes, in order to deliver a blow from a greater
height, to my horse's crupper, other times he made of the animal a
rampart. He fought valorously. Once I was half unhorsed. Mikael
protected me with his weapon till I regained my seat. The other
foot-soldiers of the _Mahrek-Ha-Droad_ fought in the same manner, each
one beside his own horseman.
"Brother, you are wounded," I said to Mikael. "See, your blouse is red."
"You too, brother," he responded. "Look at your bloody breeches."
And, in truth, in the heat of combat, we do not feel these wounds.
My father, chief of the _Mahrek-Ha-Droad_, was not accompanied by a
foot-soldier. Twice we joined him in the midst of the fight. His arm,
strong for all his age, struck incessantly. His heavy axe resounded on
the iron armors like a hammer on the anvil. His stallion Tom-Bras bit
furiously all the Romans within reach. One of them he almost lifted off
the ground in his rearing. He held the man by the nape of the neck, and
the blood was spurting. When the tide of the combat again carried Mikael
and myself near our father, he was wounded. I overcame one of the
brenn's assailants by trampling him under my horse's feet; then we were
again separated from my father. Mikael and myself knew nothing of the
other movements of the battle. Engaged in the conflict before us, we had
no other thought than to tumble the Iron Legion into the river. To that
end we struggled hard. Already our horses were stumbling over corpses as
if in a quagmire. We heard, not far off, the piercing voices of the
bards; their voices were heard over the tumult.
"Victory to Gaul!--Liberty! Liberty! Another blow with the axe! Another
effort! Strike, strike, ye Gauls.--And the Roman is vanquished.--And
Gaul delivered. Liberty! Liberty! Strike the Roman hard! Strike
harder!--Strike, ye Gauls!"
The song of the bards, the hope of victory with which they inspired
their countrymen, caused us to redouble our efforts. The remains of the
Iron Legion, almost annihilated, recrossed the river in disorder. At
that moment we saw running in our direction a Roman cohort,
panic-stricken and in full rout. Our men had driven them back from the
top of the hill, at the foot of which was the tribe of Karnak. The
cohort, thus taken between two enemies, was destroyed. Slaughter was
beginning to tire Mikael's arm and my own when I noticed a Roman warrior
of medium height, whose magnificent armor announced his lofty rank. He
was on foot, and had lost his helmet in the fight. His large bald
forehead, his pale face and his terrible look gave him a terrifying
appearance. Armed with a sword, he was furiously beating his own
soldiers, all unable to arrest their flight. I called my brother's
attention to him.
"Guilhern," said he, "if they have fought everywhere as we have here, we
are victorious. That soldier, by his gold and steel armor, must be a
Roman general. Let us take him prisoner; he will be a good hostage. Help
me and we'll have him."
Mikael immediately hurled himself on the warrior of the golden armor,
while the latter was still trying to halt the fugitives. With a few
bounds of my horse, I rejoined my brother. After a brief struggle,
Mikael threw the Roman. Wishing not to kill, but to take him prisoner,
Mikael held him under his knees, with his axe uplifted, to signify to
the Roman that he would have to give himself up. The Roman understood;
no longer struggled to free himself; and raised to heaven the one hand
he had free that the gods might witness he yielded himself a prisoner.
"Off with him," said Mikael to me.
Mikael, who like myself, was stalwart and stout, while our prisoner was
slim and not above middle height, took the Roman in his arms and lifted
him from the ground. I grasped him by the collar of buffalo-hide which
he had on over his breastplate, drew him towards me, pulled him up, and
threw him across my horse, in front of the saddle. Then, taking the
reins in my teeth so as to have one hand to hold the prisoner, and the
other to threaten him with my axe, I pressed the flanks of my horse, and
set out in this fashion towards the reserve of our army, both for the
purpose of putting the prisoner in safe keeping, and to have my wounds
dressed. I had hardly started, when one of the horsemen of the
_Mahrek-Ha-Droad_, happening that way in his pursuit of the fleeing
Romans, cried out, as he recognized the man I was carrying:
"IT IS CAESAR--STRIKE--KILL HIM!"
Thus I became aware that I had on my horse the direst of Gaul's foes. So
far from entertaining any thought of killing him, and seized with
stupor, my axe slipped from my hand, and I leaned back in order the
better to contemplate that terrible Caesar whom I had in my power.
Unhappy me! Alas for Gaul! Caesar profited by my stupid astonishment,
jumped down from my horse, called to his aid a troop of Numidian
horsemen who were riding in search of him, and when I regained
consciousness from my stupid amazement, the blunder was irreparable.[10]
Caesar had leaped upon one of the Numidian riders' horse, while the
others surrounded me. Furious at having allowed Caesar to escape, I now
defended myself with frenzy. I received several fresh wounds and saw my
brother Mikael die at my side. That misfortune was only the signal for
others. Victory, so long hovering over our standards, went to the
Romans. Caesar rallied his wavering legions; a considerable
re-enforcement of fresh troops came to his aid; and our whole army was
driven back in disorder upon the reserve, where were also our
war-chariots, our wounded, our women and our children. Carried by the
press of retreating combatants, I arrived in the proximity of the
chariots, happy in the midst of defeat at having at least come near my
mother and family, and at being able to defend them--if indeed the
strength were spared me, for my wounds were weakening me more and more.
Alas! The gods had condemned me to a horrible trial. I can now repeat
the words of Albinik and his wife, both killed in the attack on the
Roman galleys, and battling on the water as we did on the land for the
freedom of our beloved country: "None ever saw, nor will ever see the
frightful scene that I witnessed."
Thrown back towards the chariots, still fighting, attacked at once by
the Numidian cavalry, by the legionaries and by the Cretan archers, we
yielded ground step by step. Already we could hear the bellowing of the
oxen, the shrill sound of the numerous brass bells which trimmed their
yokes, and the barking of the war dogs, still chained about the cars.
Husbanding my ebbing strength, I no longer sought to fight, I strove
only to reach the place where my family was in danger. Suddenly my
horse, which had already sustained several wounds, received on the flank
his death blow. The animal stumbled and rolled upon me. My leg and
thigh, pierced with two lance thrusts, were caught as in a vise between
the ground and the dead weight of my fallen steed. In vain I struggled
to disengage myself. One of my comrades who, at the time of my fall, was
following me, ran against the fallen horse. Steed and rider tumbled over
the obstacle, and were instantly despatched by the blows of the
legionaries. Our resistance became desperate. Corpse upon corpse piled
up, both on top of and around me. More and more enfeebled by the loss of
blood, overcome by the pains in my limbs, bruised under that heap of
dead and dying, unable to make a motion, all sense left me; my eyes
closed. Recalled to myself a moment later by the violent throbbing of my
wounds, I opened my eyes again. The sight which met them at first made
me believe I was seized with one of those frightful nightmares from
which escape is vain. It was the horrible reality.
Twenty paces from me I saw the car in which my mother, Henory my wife,
Martha the wife of Mikael, their children, and several young women and
girls of the family had taken refuge. Several men of our kindred and
tribe, who had run like myself to the cars, were defending them against
the Romans. Among the defenders I saw the two _saldunes_, fastened to
each other by the iron chain, the symbol of their pledge of brotherhood.
Both were young, beautiful and valiant. Their clothes were in tatters,
their heads and chests naked and bloody. But their eyes flashed fire,
and a scornful smile played on their lips, as, armed only with their
staffs, they fearlessly fought the Roman legionaries sheathed in iron,
and the Cretans clad in jackets and thigh-pieces of leather. The large
dogs of war, shortly unchained, leaped at the throats of their
assailants, often bearing them over backwards with their furious dashes.
Their terrible jaws not being able to pierce either helmet or
breastplate, they devoured the faces of their victims, killing without
once letting go their grips. The Cretan archers, almost without
defensive armor, were snatched by the legs, arms, shoulders, anywhere.
Each bite of these savage dogs carried away a chunk of bleeding flesh.
Several steps from where I lay, I saw an archer of gigantic stature,
calm in the midst of the tumult, choose from his quiver his sharpest
arrow, lay it on the string of his bow, pull it with a sinewy arm, and
take long aim at one of the two chained _saldunes_, who, dragged down by
the fall of his comrade, now dead by his side, could only fight on one
knee. But so much the more valiantly did he ply his iron-capped staff.
He swung it before him with such tireless dexterity that for some time
none dared to brave its blows, for each stroke carried death. The Cretan
archer, waiting for the proper moment, was again aiming at the
_saldune_, when old Deber-Trud bounded forth. Held tight where I lay
under the heap of dead which was crushing me, unable to move without
causing intense pain in my wounded thigh, I summoned all my remaining
strength to cry out:
"Hou! Hou! Deber-Trud--at the Roman."
The dog, increasingly excited by my voice, which he recognized, dashed
with one bound upon the Cretan, at the moment when the arrow hissed from
the string, and buried itself, still quivering, in the stalwart breast
of the _saldune_. With this new wound his eyes closed, his heavy arms
let fall the staff, his other knee gave way, his body sank to the
ground; but by a last effort, the _saldune_ rose on both knees, snatched
the arrow from the wound, and threw it back at the Roman legionaries,
calling in a voice still strong, and with a smile of supreme contempt:
"For you, cowards, who shelter your fear and your bodies under plates of
iron. The breastplate of the Gaul is his naked bosom."[11]
And the _saldune_ fell dead upon the body of his brother-in-arms.
Both of them were avenged by Deber-Trud. The terrible dog had hurled
down and was holding under his enormous paws the Cretan archer, who was
uttering frightful cries. With one bite of his fangs, as dangerous as
those of a lion, the dog tore his victim's throat so deeply that two
jets of warm blood poured out on the archer's chest. Though still alive,
the man could utter no sound. Deber-Trud, seeing that his prey still
lived, fell upon him, roaring furiously, swallowing or throwing aside
shreds of severed flesh. I heard the sides of the Cretan crack and grind
under the teeth of Deber-Trud, who dug and dug, burying his bloody
muzzle up to the eyes in the man's chest. Then a legionary ran up and
transfixed Deber-Trud with one thrust of his lance. The dog gave not a
groan. He died like a good war-dog, his monstrous head plunged in the
Roman's entrails.[12]
After the death of the two _saldunes_, the defenders of the chariots
fell one by one. My mother Margarid, Martha, Henory, and the young girls
of the family, with burning eyes and cheeks, their hair flying, their
clothes disordered from the struggle, their arms and bosoms half
uncovered, were running fearlessly from one end of the chariot to the
other, encouraging the combatants by voice and gesture, and casting at
the Romans with no feeble or untrained hands short pikes, knives, and
spiked clubs. At last the critical moment came. All the men were killed,
the chariot, surrounded by bodies piled half way up its sides, was
defended only by the women. There they were, with my mother Margarid,
five young women and six maidens, almost all of superb beauty,
heightened by the ardor of battle.
The Romans, sure of this prize of their obscene revels, and wishing to
take it alive, consulted a moment on a plan of attack. I understood not
their words, but from their coarse laugh, and the licentious looks which
they threw upon the Gallic women, there could be no doubt as to the
fate which awaited them. I lay there, broken, pinned fast; breathless,
full of despair, horror, and impotent rage I lay there, seeing a few
steps from me the chariot in which were my mother, my wife, my
children.--Oh, wrathful heavens!--like one unable to awake from a
horrible dream, I lay there condemned to see all, hear all, and yet to
remain motionless.
An officer of savage and insolent mien advanced alone towards the
chariot and addressed to the women some words in the Latin tongue which
the soldiers received with roars of revolting laughter. My mother, calm,
pale, and terrible, exhorted the young women around her to maintain
their self-control. Then the Roman, adding a word or two, closed with an
obscene gesture. Margarid happened at that moment to have in her hand a
heavy axe. So straight at the officer's head she hurled it, that he
reeled and fell. His fall was the signal for the attack. The legionaries
pressed forward to the capture of the chariot. Then the women rushed to
the scythes, which on each side defended the cart, and plied them with
such vigor and harmony, that the Romans, seeing a great number of their
men killed or disabled, conceived a wholesome fear for such terrible
arms, so intrepidly plied. They suspended the attack, and, applying
their long lances after the fashion of crow-bars, succeeded, without
approaching too near, in shattering the handles of the scythes. This
safeguard demolished, a new attack commenced. The issue was not
doubtful. While the scythes were falling under the blows of the
soldiers, my mother hurriedly said a few words to Martha and Henory. The
two, with a look of pride and determination on their faces, ran towards
the cover which sheltered the children. Margarid also spoke to the young
childless women, and they, as well as the young girls, took and piously
kissed her hands.
At that moment, the last scythes fell. Margarid seized a sword in one
hand and a white cloth in the other. She stepped to the front of the
chariot, waved the white cloth, and threw away the sword, as if to
announce to the enemy that all the women wished to give themselves up.
The soldiers, at first astonished at the proposed surrender, answered
with laughs of ironical consent. Margarid seemed to be awaiting a
signal. Twice she impatiently cast her eyes toward the shelter, where
the two women had gone. Evidently, as the signal she seemed to wait for
was not given, she was trying to distract the enemy's attention, and
again waved her cloth, pointing alternately to the town of Vannes and to
the sea.
The soldiers, unable to take in the meaning of these gestures, looked at
one another questioningly. Then Margarid, after another hasty glance at
the redoubt, exchanged a few words with the girls round about her,
seized a dagger, and, in quick succession struck three of the maidens,
who had nobly bared their chaste bosoms to the knife. Meanwhile the
other young women dispatched one another with steady hands. They had
just fallen when Martha reappeared from the enclosure where the children
had been hidden during the battle. Proud and serene, she held her two
little daughters in her arms. A spare wagon-pole stood in front of her,
the upper extremity of which was at a considerable elevation from the
ground. She leaped on the edge of the car; a cord was around her neck.
She passed the end of the cord through the ring at the extremity of the
pole. Margarid steadied it in both hands. Martha leaped into the air
with outspread arms, and hung there, strangled. Her two little children,
instead of falling to the ground, remained suspended on either side of
her breast, for she had passed the noose around their necks also.
All this occurred so rapidly, that the Romans, at first struck dumb with
astonishment and fear, had no time to prevent the heroic deaths. They
had barely recovered from their amazement when Margarid, seeing all her
family either dying or dead at her feet, raised to heaven her
blood-stained knife, and exclaimed in a calm and steady voice:
"Our daughters shall not be outraged; our children shall not be
enslaved; all of us, of the family of Joel the brenn of the tribe of
Karnak, dead, like our husbands and brothers, for the liberty of Gaul,
are on our way to rejoin them above. Perhaps, O Hesus, all this spilled
blood will appease you;" and with a hand which did not waver, she
plunged the dagger into her own heart.
All these terrible events which happened around the Chariot of Death I
was compelled to behold, as I lay nearby, pinned to the ground. My wife
Henory not having emerged from the enclosure, I concluded that she had
put an end to herself there, first putting to death my little ones
Sylvest and Syomara. My brain began to reel, my eyes closed; I felt
that I was dying, and thanked Hesus for not leaving me behind alone when
all my dear ones were to enter together upon the other life in the
unknown world.
But, no, it was here below, on earth, that I was to return to life--to
face new torments after those I had just undergone.