QUEEN AND CONFIDANTE.
"Madam," said Chrotechilde to Brunhild, "for whom do you intend the one
of the two female slaves whom you expect to buy?"
"You really ask me?"
"Yes, madam--"
"Chrotechilde, age seems to dull your powers of penetration--perhaps I
may have to look for some other confidante."
"Madam, please explain yourself--"
"I mean to test how far the present dullness that seems to have come
over you may go."
"Truly, madam, I am at a loss to understand you--"
"Tell me, Chrotechilde, did not my son Childebert, when he died
assassinated by Fredegonde, leave me the guardianship of his two sons,
my grandchildren, Thierry and Theudebert?"
"Yes--madam--but I was speaking of the two female slaves--and not of
your children."
"At what age was my grandson Theudebert a father?"
"At thirteen--at that age he had a son from Bilichilde, the
dark-complexioned slave with green eyes, for whom you paid a big price.
I still see her wild looks, as uncommon as her style of beauty. For the
rest, she had a nymph's waist, and wavy and jet-black hair that reached
the floor. I never in my life saw such hair. But why do you look so
somber?"
"The vile slave! Did not that miserable Bilichilde gain a fatal
ascendency over my grandson Theudebert, despite the many other
concubines that we furnished him?"
"Indeed, madam! So fatal was the ascendency that she gained over him,
that she caused us to be driven out of Metz, both you and me, and led
prisoners as far as Arcis-on-the-Aube, the boundary of Burgundy, the
kingdom of your other grandson, Thierry. But all that is an old story,
madam, that is dead and should be forgotten, together with the principal
actors in it. Bilichilde is no more; she was last year strangled to
death by your grandson, the savage idiot Theudebert himself, who passed
from love to hatred; afterwards, beaten at the battle of Tolbiac by his
brother, whom you hurled at his head, he was himself shorn of his hair
and stabbed to death; finally, his five-year-old son had his skull
broken against a stone. Accordingly, that score was thoroughly settled.
Were you not amply revenged?"
"No; with me, hatred survives vengeance, it survives death itself, as
the dagger survives the murder. No; my vengeance is not yet complete."
"You are not reasonable. To hate beyond the grave is childish at your
age."
"And is your mind not yet enlightened by what we have just said?"
"With regard to the two handsome slaves?"
"Yes, with regard to the two pretty girls."
"No, madam, I cannot yet fathom your thoughts."
"Let us, then, proceed, seeing that you have become so obtuse. Tell me,
what was the nature of Theudebert, before we gave him Bilichilde for
companion?"
"Violent, active, resolute, head-strong and above all proud. At eleven
years he already felt the proud ardor of his royal blood. He used to say
loftily: 'I am the King of Austrasia! I am master!'"
"And two years after he possessed the dark-complexioned slave with the
green eyes and curly hair, whom you so judiciously chose for him, what
was then the nature of my grandson? Answer me, Chrotechilde."
"Oh, madam, Theudebert was unrecognizable. Unnerved, irresolute and
languid, he had no will except to go from his bed to table, and from
table to bed with his concubines. He hardly had enough spirit to hunt
with falcons, a woman's amusement; the hunt of wild animals he could not
think of, it was too tiring. I was not at all surprised at the change.
From being robust, pert and loving noisy games since his early
childhood, he became sickly, weak, puny, dreamy, and preferred darkened
rooms as if the light of the sun hurt his eyes. In short, he had given
promise of becoming a man of large size, but he died stunted and almost
beardless."
"It was that I aimed at, Chrotechilde. Precocious debauchery unnerves
the soul as much as it does the body. Accordingly Theudebert's issue was
not born with vitality enough to survive."
"True enough; I never saw such puny children--but what else could be
expected from a dwarfish and almost imbecile father?"
"And yet, as early as his twelfth year, Theudebert used to say
haughtily: 'I am the King of Austrasia! I am master!'"
"Yes, but afterwards, whenever you sought to converse with him upon
matters of state, and you called his attention to his being King, the
boy would regularly answer you in his languid voice and with his eyes
half shut: 'Grandmother, I am King of my women, of my amphoras of old
wine and of my falcons! Reign in my stead, grandmother; reign in my
name, if you please!'"
"And it did please me, Chrotechilde. I reigned in Austrasia for my
grandson Theudebert until the day when that vile slave Bilichilde,
availing herself of her influence over the imbecile King, drove me from
Metz--drove out me--Brunhild!"
"Ever the remembrance of that occurrence! Again does the storm gather
over your forehead! Again your eyes shoot lightning! But, by the
heavens, madam; the slave has been strangled, the imbecile and his son
are both dead--they have both been killed and lie in their graves. I
even forgot that, in order to complete the hecatomb of those malefic
animals, Quintio, the stewart of the palace and Duke of Champagne, who
took an improper part in the affair of Metz, was put to death upon your
orders. What more can you wish? Besides, in exchange for the Austrasia
that you lost, did you not gain a Burgundy? If Theudebert drove you from
Metz, did you not take refuge here, in Chalon, near your other grandson
Thierry? Enervated and besotted through overindulgence with the women
that we furnished him with, did you not drive him to undertake a
merciless war against his own brother, whom he overcame at Toul and
Tolbiac, and who, after these defeats, was himself, together with his
son put to death, as I reminded you a minute ago? Thus revenged for
being exiled from Metz, have you not ever since held sway over Thierry
and actually reigned in his stead? When Aegila, the stewart of the
palace, made you apprehensive by reason of his growing influence over
your grandson, you promptly rid yourself of Aegila, and you substituted
him with your lover Protade, who thereupon became the mayor of the
palace--"
"But they killed him, Chrotechilde--they killed him--they killed my
lover, my Protade!"
"Come, madam; we are here among ourselves; admit that a Queen never
suffers any dearth of lovers. You need only choose among the handsomest,
the youngest, the most appetizing nobles of the court. Moreover, madam,
without meaning to make you any reproaches on that score, if they did
kill your Protade, did you not in turn kill their Bishop Didier?"
"Perchance he did not merit his fate?"
"Never was punishment more condign! The wily prelate! He schemed to
supplant us in our amorous manoeuvres! Why, the fellow plotted the
marriage of your grandson to the Spanish princess, in order to snatch
him from the voluptuous life in which we kept him, and thereby withdraw
him from your domination! And what happened to the tonsured schemer?
The current of the Chalaronne washed his corpse down the stream, while
the Spanish woman, upon whom he reckoned in order to evict you and, by
means of her, to rule Thierry and through Thierry Burgundy, that Spanish
woman has been repudiated by your grandson, she went back to her own
country only six months after her wedding, and we have appropriated her
dower. Finally, Thierry died this year of a dysentery," added the hag
with a horrid smile, "and so you now are absolute mistress and sovereign
Queen of this country of Burgundy, seeing that Sigebert, the eldest son
of Thierry, your great-grandson, is now only eleven years old. We must
prevent these kinglets from dying out, else Fredegonde's surviving son
would fall heir to their kingdoms. All that is needed is that they
vegetate, in order that you may reign in their stead. Well, madam, they
vegetate. But all this takes us far away from the young female slave
whom you wish to buy from Samuel."
"On the contrary, Chrotechilde, the review leads us directly to the
slave."
"In what manner?"
"There can no longer be any doubt about it; age is softening your
brains; formerly so quick to grasp my purposes, it is now fully a
quarter of an hour that you have been giving me distressful proofs of
your waning intellect."
"I, madam?"
"Yes; in former days, instead of asking me what I intended doing with
one of Samuel's slaves, you would have guessed on the spot. I have been
able to convince myself at leisure of the senility of your
understanding--it is sad, Chrotechilde."
"As sad to me as to you, madam. But deign to explain yourself, I pray
you. For me to hear is to obey."
"What! Dullard! You know that I have the guardianship of my
great-grandchildren, and yet you stupidly ask me what I propose to do
with one of the two pretty slaves! Do you now understand?"
"Oh! Yes! I now begin to understand, madam; but yet your reproaches were
unmerited. You forget that Sigebert is not yet eleven."
"All the better! The debauch will begin so much earlier."
"That is true," remarked the other monster with a horrid peal of
laughter. "That is true; all the better. The debauch will start so much
sooner."
During this shocking conversation the august bronze effigy remained
motionless in the case of medals on the ivory stand; it never once as
much as winked, nor did its metal mouth utter a cry of malediction to
shake the walls of the apartment like a trumpet blast of the day of
judgment.
The conversation between the two matrons proceeded.
"You mean to furnish a concubine to your great-grandson, Sigebert," said
Chrotechilde to the Queen, "although he is not yet eleven."
"Yes," repeated Brunhild; "but what happened with Bilichilde makes me
pause: I do not know which of the two slaves to take. What is your
opinion, in view of your experience?"
"The tall brunette who weeps constantly will never be dangerous; she is
mild, candid, and stupid as a sheep. There is no fear that the silly
thing will ever instil Sigebert with evil thoughts against you."
"I also am strongly inclined in favor of the weepful one; the other girl
seems to me rather too bold a piece. The impudent thing never once
lowered her eyes before mine, that terrify the otherwise firmest and
most daring men."
"It is quite possible, madam, that the frisky little imp may have too
large a measure of what the tall one has too little--there may be profit
in that. Let us look at things as they are. Sigebert is not yet eleven,
he is very childish, thinks only of his top and huckle-bones; besides,
he is quiet and timid, a veritable lamb. Now, then, if the tall silly
thing associates with him like a sheep--you understand me, madam? On the
other hand, the little gay imp might set our lamb afire. I always
remember the fear of Theudebert at the sight of the girl with the green
eyes and curly hair. The matter requires careful consideration, madam.
Let us first study the nature of the two girls. Moreover, there is no
great hurry in the matter. Sigebert is now in Germany with Duke
Warnachaire, the mayor of the palace of Burgundy."
"They may be back any moment. I should not be surprised to see them back
to-day. Moreover, I am in all the greater hurry to procure a slave girl
for Sigebert, seeing that I fear Warnachaire may have gained some
influence over him during this journey into Germany. If so, whatever
influence Warnachaire may have gained over the boy will be speedily lost
in his experiences with love."
"But, madam, if you mistrust the duke, why did you confide Sigebert to
him?"
"Was it not absolutely necessary for Sigebert to be a part of the
embassy? The sight of the royal child, with his sweet face, was certain
to interest in his behalf the German tribes on the other side of the
Rhine whose alliance Warnachaire was to secure for me. Their troops will
double my army. Oh, in this last supreme effort, in this merciless war
that will now break out between me and Clotaire II, this son of
Fredegonde will be ground to dust--it must be--it must be--my vengeance
must be complete."
"And it will be, madam. Until now, your enemies have all fallen under
your blows. The death of Fredegonde's son will crown the work. I must,
nevertheless, admit that this Duke Warnachaire makes me feel uneasy.
Madam, these mayors of the palaces, who, forty-five or fifty years ago,
under the reign of the sons of old Clotaire, began with being the
intendants of the royal palaces, and who, ever since, have by little and
little become the actual governors of the people, I fear me that these
mayors of the palaces will end by swallowing up the kings, if the kings
do not suppress them. These able folks say to the princes: 'Keep
concubines, drink, play, hunt, sleep, squander the money that we fill
your treasuries with, enjoy your lives, bother not with matters of
government, we shall take charge of that burden.' These are dangerous
and wicked proceedings, madam. That a mother, a grandmother should act
in that manner towards her sons and grandsons, that is allowable; but
with mayors of the palace it becomes usurpation; and this Warnachaire,
whom you allowed to retain his office of mayor after Thierry's death is
bent, it seems to me, upon dominating Sigebert and ousting you, madam. I
know that with the tall or the short slave we shall be able to hold our
own against the duke--but never forget your exile from Metz, madam!"
"You are preaching to one already converted. I recently wrote to Aimoin,
who returns with Warnachaire, to kill him on the way back."
"Oh, glorious Queen, why did you not say so before! I would have spared
you my rhetoric."
"But unfortunately Aimoin failed to carry out my orders. Warnachaire is
still alive."
"Why did he not obey?"
"I do not yet know; I may learn the reason to-day."
"At any rate we should not be hasty in thinking ill of Aimoin. Perhaps
no favorable opportunity presented itself; who knows but you may yet see
him return alone with Sigebert. And if not, once Warnachaire is back at
Chalon, in this castle, his fate, madam, will be in the hollow of your
hand--and you should not hesitate to strike. Oh, these mayors of the
palaces, these mayors of the palaces! I look upon them as the gravest
danger to the royal family. You may be certain, madam, that the royal
family will never enjoy safety until it will have rid itself of these
daily more dangerous rivals."
"We need time to overthrow their power. They have drawn around them all
the beneficiary seigneurs whom the royal generosity enriched. Oh! Time!
Time! Oh, how short is life. I need time; combined with it, will-power
and force can do all. The time that I need is a long reign; I shall have
it. The barbarian tribes on the other side of the Rhine have responded
to our call; they will join our army. Thanks to their reinforcements,
the troops of Clotaire will be crushed, and the son of Fredegonde will
fall into my power! Oh! To inflict upon the son a slow death under the
protracted tortures that I prepared for his mother! To avenge by his
agony the murder of my sister Galeswinthe, and of my husband Sigebert!
To take possession of Clotaire's kingdom and reign alone, the undisputed
mistress of all Gaul for many a long year! That is my aim. And it will
be reached. I feel myself full of life, strength and will-power!"
"You will live a hundred years and more."
"I believe it. I feel it. Aye, I feel within me indomitable will and
vitality. To reign! the ambition of great souls! To reign like the
Emperors of Rome! I wish to emulate them in all their sovereign
omnipotence! I wish to count by the millions the instruments of my will!
I wish, by a mere gesture, to cause the power of my arms to be felt from
one confine of the world to the other! I wish to increase my kingdom to
an infinite extent! I wish to be able to say: 'All these countries, from
the nearest to the most distant, belong to me! I wish to concentrate the
forces of all nations into my own hands and to cause all the peoples of
the earth to bend under my yoke! I wish to raise in all parts of Gaul
the marvels of art that now cover Burgundy--fortified castles,
magnificent palaces, gold-naved basilicas, wide and interminable
highways, prodigious monuments, all of which will in all the centuries
to come re-echo the name of Brunhild! Should I allow vulgar scruples to
stay my hand, having such grand designs in view? No! No! Could these
children whom I unman, could these men whom I kill because they hinder
my progress--could they or any of them as much as conceive my gigantic
designs? Of what value to the world is the life of these obscure
victims? Their bones will have turned to dust, their names will be
buried in oblivion, when my name, repeated from age to age, will
continue to amaze posterity!"
"And these will be valid reasons for the priests and bishops, who
besiege you with applications for grants of land and money, to pardon
your crimes."
"I forbid you to say an evil word against the priests; it is they who
draw my triumphal car--"
"The team is rather ruinous."
"Not to me. Do the gifts that I bestow upon them impoverish me? Is not
that which I give them, the overflow of my overflow? Moreover, they will
aid me in restoring the imposts formerly decreed by the emperors, and
thereby to replenish my coffers. Here, take this key; open the little
coffer yonder on the table, and look for a roll of parchment tied in a
purple ribbon."
"Here it is, madam."
"Kiss the parchment, it is written on by the hand of the representative
of God on earth, a Pope--the pious Gregory himself--"
"And does the sovereign pontiff, the successor of St. Peter, as he
claims, he who holds in his hands the keys of paradise, promise to open
them wide for you?"
"It is but just. Have I not amply gilded those keys of paradise? Read
over again to me what the parchment contains."
"'Gregory to Brunhild, Queen of the Franks. The manner in which you
govern the kingdom and preside over the education of your son give
witness to the virtues of your Excellency, virtues that must be praised
and that are pleasing to God. You did not content yourself with leaving
intact to your son the glory of temporal things, you also laid up for
him the great riches of eternal life by causing, with pious maternal
solicitude the germs of the true faith to take root in his soul.'"