"So I am to be your guest?" Father Benjamin asked. "I am indeed
honored." He looked keenly at the boy. "Aren't you a bit young to travel
this path with only a dog as companion?"
"I must travel it," Franz told him. "I go to the Hospice of St. Bernard,
where I am to become a _maronnier_."
"A _maronnier_, eh?" Father Benjamin asked. "And what inspired you to
become such?"
"I am too stupid to be anything else," Franz answered.
Father Benjamin's laughter rang out, free as summer thunder and warm as
a June rain. Puzzled, Franz could only stare. After a bit, the monk
stopped laughing.
[Illustration: _He saw Franz and Caesar.... "Hello, fellow travelers!"
he called cheerfully. "I am Father Benjamin."_]
"I do crave your pardon!" he said. "But it is rare to receive such an
honest answer to a well-intended question. Nor do I think you are
stupid, young Franz Halle. Those who are never say so. Surely you are
clever in some ways?"
"I can cut wood, climb mountains, get about on snow and work with
Caesar," said Franz.
Father Benjamin said gravely, "Then you are surely coming to the right
place."
Franz began taking bread, cheese and cakes from his pack. "What does
_maronnier_ mean?" he asked.
"Moor," replied Father Benjamin. "The Moors are a warlike people from a
far country. They robbed and stole, and one of the finest places to do
so, since many travelers must go through it, was the Pass of St.
Bernard. When our sainted Bernard first came this way, he was merely
Bernard de Menthon, a youth not yet in his twenties. He and those with
him found the Pass held by a group of Moorish bandits, whose chief was
named Marsil. Bernard, most devout even then, held his crucifix erect
and put the entire band to flight."
"With a crucifix alone?" Franz asked incredulously.
"It is thought by some that the clubs and axes carried by Bernard and
his party and wielded with telling effect on Moorish skulls, helped
out," Father Benjamin admitted, "but we like to believe that his faith
and courage are what counted most. Bernard went on into Italy, where in
due time he became Archbishop of Aosta. Travelers through the Pass
continued to tell of Moorish bandits, so Bernard returned to rout them."
"And did he?" Franz asked breathlessly.
"He did indeed," answered Father Benjamin. "But other tales were also
coming out of the Pass. They were stories of travelers who died in the
terrible storms that rage across these heights in winter, and there were
a great many such unhappy tales. Bernard determined to build a hospice,
a shelter for all who needed it, at the very summit of the Pass. The
Moors, led by the same Marsil whom Bernard had previously defeated, knew
they could never prevail against such might. So rather than fight him
again, they chose to become Christians and join Bernard. Since they
could not be priests, they became lay brothers, or _maronniers_."
"It is a wonderful story!" Franz gasped.
Father Benjamin said seriously, "One of the most wonderful ever told.
This Pass has been in use since mankind began to travel. The Roman
legions used it to invade Gaul. Hannibal took his army through it to
invade Italy. Countless others have traveled through it, and countless
people still do and will. We who are charged with its keeping consider
it the finest privilege of all to serve at the Hospice of St. Bernard."
"What is it like?" Franz asked.
"It is cold, my young friend," replied Father Benjamin. "There are
winter days of fifty below zero. Snow in the Pass lies forty-five feet
deep. The wind blows constantly and fiercely and shifts the snow about
so that the entire landscape may change from one day to the next.
Sometimes there is a complete change in an hour, or even minutes. Some
might think it the most miserable life imaginable, but we who serve at
the Hospice know it is the finest!"
"How long will you be there?" Franz asked.
Father Benjamin told him, "Even though only men born to the mountains
and skilled in mountain arts are chosen for service at the Hospice, and
even though our spirits may be strong, the bodies of the strongest
cannot endure the trials we must face for more than twelve years. But
during those years, and quite apart from ministering to souls, all of us
save lives. That is our reward."