[32] As a matter of fact, Suetonius, 'The destined to die salute thee.'
_HOW MARBOT CROSSED THE DANUBE_
AFTER crossing the Traun, burning the bridge at Mauthhausen, and passing
the Enns, the army advanced to Moelk, without knowing what had become of
General Hiller. Some spies assured us that the archduke had crossed the
Danube and joined him, and that we should on the morrow meet the whole
Austrian army, strongly posted in front of Saint-Polten. In that case,
we must make ready to fight a great battle; but if it were otherwise, we
had to march quickly on Vienna in order to get there before the enemy
could reach it by the other bank. For want of positive information the
Emperor was very undecided. The question to be solved was, Had General
Hiller crossed the Danube, or was he still in front of us, masked by a
swarm of light cavalry, which, always flying, never let us get near
enough to take a prisoner from whom one might get some enlightenment?
Still knowing nothing for certain, we reached, on May 7, the pretty
little town of Moelk, standing on the bank of the Danube, and overhung by
an immense rock, on the summit of which rises a Benedictine convent,
said to be the finest and richest in Christendom. From the rooms of the
monastery a wide view is obtained over both banks of the Danube. There
the Emperor and many marshals, including Lannes, took up their quarters,
while our staff lodged with the parish priest. Much rain had fallen
during the week, and it had not ceased for twenty-four hours, and still
was falling, so that the Danube and its tributaries were over their
banks. That night, as my comrades and I, delighted at being sheltered
from the bad weather, were having a merry supper with the parson, a
jolly fellow, who gave us an excellent meal, the aide-de-camp on duty
with the marshal came to tell me that I was wanted, and must go up to
the convent that moment. I was so comfortable where I was that I found
it annoying to have to leave a good supper and good quarters to go and
get wet again, had but I to obey.
All the passages and lower rooms of the monastery were full of soldiers,
forgetting the fatigues of the previous days in the monks' good wine. On
reaching the dwelling-rooms, I saw that I had been sent for about some
serious matter, for generals, chamberlains, orderly officers, said to me
repeatedly, 'The Emperor has sent for you.' Some added, 'It is probably
to give you your commission as major.' This I did not believe, for I did
not think I was yet of sufficient importance to the sovereign for him to
send for me at such an hour to give me my commission with his own hands.
I was shown into a vast and handsome gallery, with a balcony looking
over the Danube; there I found the Emperor at dinner with several
marshals and the abbot of the convent, who has the title of bishop. On
seeing me, the Emperor left the table, and went towards the balcony,
followed by Lannes. I heard him say in a low tone, 'The execution of
this plan is almost impossible; it would be sending a brave officer for
no purpose to almost certain death.' 'He will go, sir,' replied the
marshal; 'I am certain he will go, at any rate we can but propose it to
him.' Then, taking me by the hand, the marshal opened the window of the
balcony over the Danube. The river at this moment, trebled in volume by
the strong flood, was nearly a league wide; it was lashed by a fierce
wind, and we could hear the waves roaring. It was pitch-dark, and the
rain fell in torrents, but we could see on the other side a long line of
bivouac fires. Napoleon, Marshal Lannes, and I, being alone on the
balcony, the marshal said, 'On the other side of the river, you see an
Austrian camp. Now, the Emperor is keenly desirous to know whether
General Hiller's corps is there, or still on this bank. In order to make
sure he wants a stout-hearted man, bold enough to cross the Danube, and
bring away some soldier of the enemy's, and I have assured him that you
will go.' Then Napoleon said to me, 'Take notice that I am not giving
you an order; I am only expressing a wish. I am aware that the
enterprise is as dangerous as it can be, and you can decline it without
any fear of displeasing me. Go, and think it over for a few moments in
the next room; come back and tell us frankly your decision.'
I admit that when I heard Marshal Lannes' proposal I had broken out all
over in a cold sweat; but at the same moment, a feeling, which I cannot
define, but in which a love of glory and of my country was mingled,
perhaps, with a noble pride, raised my ardour to the highest point, and
I said to myself, 'The Emperor has here an army of 150,000 devoted
warriors, besides 25,000 men of his guard, all selected from the
bravest. He is surrounded with aides-de-camp and orderly officers, and
yet when an expedition is on foot, requiring intelligence no less than
boldness, it is I whom the Emperor and Marshal Lannes choose.' 'I will
go, sir,' I cried without hesitation. 'I will go; and if I perish, I
leave my mother to your Majesty's care.' The Emperor pulled my ear to
mark his satisfaction; the marshal shook my hand, 'I was quite right to
tell your Majesty that he would go. There's what you may call a brave
soldier.'
[Illustration: '"I will go, sir," I cried']
My expedition being thus decided on, I had to think about the means of
executing it. The Emperor called General Bertrand, his aide-de-camp,
General Dorsenne, of the guard, and the commandant of the imperial
head-quarters, and ordered them to put at my disposal whatever I might
require. At my request an infantry picket went into the town to find the
burgomaster, the syndic of the boatmen, and five of his best hands. A
corporal and five grenadiers of the old guard who could all speak
German, and had still to earn their decoration, were also summoned, and
voluntarily agreed to go with me. The Emperor had them brought in first,
and promised that on their return they should receive the Cross at once.
The brave men replied by a 'Vive l'Empereur!' and went to get ready. As
for the five boatmen, on its being explained to them through the
interpreter that they had to take a boat across the Danube, they fell on
their knees and began to weep. The syndic declared that they might just
as well be shot at once, as sent to certain death. The expedition was
absolutely impossible, not only from the strength of the current, but
because the tributaries had brought into the Danube a great quantity of
fir trees recently cut down in the mountains, which could not be avoided
in the dark, and would certainly come against the boat and sink it.
Besides, how could one land on the opposite bank among willows which
would scuttle the boat, and with a flood of unknown extent? The syndic
concluded, then, that the operation was physically impossible. In vain
did the Emperor tempt them with an offer of 6,000 francs per man; even
this could not persuade them, though, as they said, they were poor
boatmen with families, and this sum would be a fortune to them. But, as
I have already said, some lives must be sacrificed to save those of the
greater number, and the knowledge of this makes commanders sometimes
pitiless. The Emperor was inflexible, and the grenadiers received orders
to take the poor men, whether they would or not, and we went down to the
town.
The corporal who had been assigned to me was an intelligent man. Taking
him for my interpreter, I charged him as we went along to tell the
syndic of the boatmen that as he had got to come along with us, he had
better in his own interest show us his best boat, and point out
everything that we should require for her fitting. The poor man obeyed;
so we got an excellent vessel, and we took all that we wanted from the
others. We had two anchors, but as I did not think we should be able to
make use of them, I had sewn to the end of each cable a piece of canvas
with a large stone wrapped in it. I had seen in the south of France the
fishermen use an apparatus of this kind to hold their boats by throwing
the cord over the willows at the water's edge. I put on a cap, the
grenadiers took their forage caps, we had provisions, ropes, axes, saws,
a ladder,--everything, in short, which I could think of to take.
Our preparations ended, I was going to give the signal to start, when
the five boatmen implored me with tears to let the soldiers escort them
to their houses, to take perhaps the last farewell of their wives and
children; but, fearing that a tender scene of this kind would further
reduce their small stock of courage, I refused. Then the syndic said,
'Well, as we have only a short time to live, allow us five minutes to
commend our souls to God, and do you do the same, for you also are going
to your death.' They all fell on their knees, the grenadiers and I
following their example, which seemed to please the worthy people much.
When their prayer was over, I gave each man a glass of the monks'
excellent wine, and we pushed out into the stream.
I had bidden the grenadiers follow in silence all the orders of the
syndic who was steering; the current was too strong for us to cross over
straight from Moelk: we went up, therefore, along the bank under sail for
more than a league, and although the wind and the waves made the boat
jump, this part was accomplished without accident. But when the time
came to take to our oars and row out from the land, the mast, on being
lowered, fell over to one side, and the sail, dragging in the water,
offered a strong resistance to the current and nearly capsized us. The
master ordered the ropes to be cut and the masts to be sent overboard:
but the boatmen, losing their heads, began to pray without stirring.
Then the corporal, drawing his sword, said, 'You can pray and work too;
obey at once, or I will kill you.' Compelled to choose between possible
and certain death, the poor fellows took up their hatchets, and with the
help of the grenadiers, the mast was promptly cut away and sent
floating. It was high time, for hardly were we free from this dangerous
burden when we felt a fearful shock. A pine-stem borne down by the
stream had struck the boat. We all shuddered, but luckily the planks
were not driven in this time. Would the boat, however, resist more
shocks of this kind? We could not see the stems, and only knew that they
were near by the heavier tumble of the waves. Several touched us, but no
serious accident resulted. Meantime the current bore us along, and as
our oars could make very little way against it to give us the necessary
slant, I feared for a moment that it would sweep us below the enemy's
camp, and that my expedition would fail. By dint of hard rowing,
however, we had got three-quarters of the way over, when I saw an
immense black mass looming over the water. Then a sharp scratching was
heard, branches caught us in the face, and the boat stopped. To our
questions the owner replied that we were on an island covered with
willows and poplars, of which the flood had nearly reached the top. We
had to grope about with our hatchets to clear a passage through the
branches, and when we had succeeded in passing the obstacle, we found
the stream much less furious than in the middle of the river, and
finally reached the left bank in front of the Austrian camp. This shore
was bordered with very thick trees, which, overhanging the bank like a
dome, made the approach difficult no doubt, but at the same time
concealed our boat from the camp. The whole shore was lighted up by the
bivouac fires, while we remained in the shadow thrown by the branches of
the willows. I let the boat float downwards, looking for a suitable
landing-place. Presently I perceived that a sloping path had been made
down the bank by the enemy to allow the men and horses to get to the
water. The corporal adroitly threw into the willows one of the stones
that I had made ready, the cord caught in a tree, and the boat brought
up against the land a foot or two from the slope. It must have been just
about midnight. The Austrians, having the swollen Danube between them
and the French, felt themselves so secure that except the sentry the
whole camp was asleep.
It is usual in war for the guns and the sentinels always to face towards
the enemy, however far off he may be. A battery placed in advance of the
camp was therefore turned towards the river, and sentries were walking
on the top of the bank. The trees prevented them from seeing the extreme
edge, while from the boat I could see through the branches a great part
of the bivouac. So far my mission had been more successful than I had
ventured to hope, but in order to make the success complete I had to
bring away a prisoner, and to execute such an operation fifty paces away
from several thousand enemies, whom a single cry would rouse, seemed
very difficult. Still, I had to do something. I made the five sailors
lie down at the bottom of the boat under guard of two grenadiers,
another grenadier I posted at the bow of the boat which was close to the
bank, and myself disembarked, sword in hand, followed by the corporal
and two grenadiers. The boat was a few feet from dry land; we had to
walk in the water, but at last we were on the slope. We went up, and I
was making ready to rush on the nearest sentry, disarm him, gag him, and
drag him off to the boat, when the ring of metal and the sound of
singing in a low voice fell on my ears. A man, carrying a great tin
pail, was coming to draw water, humming a song as he went; we quickly
went down again to the river to hide under the branches, and as the
Austrian stooped to fill his pail my grenadiers seized him by the
throat, put a handkerchief full of wet sand over his mouth, and placing
their sword-points against his body threatened him with death if he
resisted or uttered a sound. Utterly bewildered, the man obeyed, and let
us take him to the boat; we hoisted him into the hands of the grenadiers
posted there, who made him lie down beside the sailors. While this
Austrian was lying captured, I saw by his clothes that he was not
strictly speaking a soldier, but an officer's servant. I should have
preferred to catch a combatant, who could have given me more precise
information; but I was going to content myself with this capture for
want of a better, when I saw at top of the slope two soldiers carrying a
cauldron between them, on a pole. They were only a few paces off. It was
impossible for us to re-embark without being seen. I therefore signed to
my grenadiers to hide themselves again, and as soon as the two Austrians
stooped to fill their vessel, powerful arms seized them from behind, and
plunged their heads under water. We had to stupefy them a little, since
they had their swords, and I feared that they might resist. Then they
were picked up in turn, their mouths covered with a handkerchief full of
sand, and sword-points against their breasts constrained them to follow
us. They were shipped as the servant had been, and my men and I got on
board again.
[Illustration: 'We had to saw the rope']
So far all had gone well. I made the sailors get up and take their oars,
and ordered the corporal to cast loose the rope which held us to the
bank. It was, however, so wet, and the knot had been drawn so tight by
the force of the stream, that it was impossible to unfasten. We had to
saw the rope, which took us some minutes. Meanwhile, the rope, shaking
with our efforts, imparted its movement to the branches of the willow
round which it was wrapped, and the rustling became loud enough to
attract the notice of the sentry. He drew near, unable to see the boat,
but perceiving that the agitation of the branches increased, he called
out, 'Who goes there?' No answer. Further challenge from the sentry. We
held our tongues, and worked away. I was in deadly fear; after facing so
many dangers, it would have been too cruel if we were wrecked in sight
of port. At last, the rope was cut and the boat pushed off. But hardly
was it clear of the overhanging willows than the light of the bivouac
fires made it visible to the sentry, who, shouting, 'To arms,' fired at
us. No one was hit but at the sound the whole camp was astir in a
moment, and the gunners, whose pieces were ready loaded and trained on
the river, honoured my boat with some cannon-shots. At the report my
heart leapt for joy, for I knew that the Emperor and marshal would hear
it. I turned my eyes towards the convent, with its lighted windows, of
which I had, in spite of the distance, never lost sight. Probably all
were open at this moment, but in one only could I perceive any increase
of brilliancy; it was the great balcony window, which was as large as
the doorway of a church, and sent from afar a flood of light over the
stream. Evidently it had just been opened at the thunder of the cannon,
and I said to myself, 'The Emperor and the marshals are doubtless on the
balcony; they know that I have reached the enemy's camp, and are making
vows for my safe return.' This thought raised my courage, and I heeded
the cannon-balls not a bit. Indeed, they were not very dangerous, for
the stream swept us along at such a pace that the gunners could not aim
with any accuracy, and we must have been very unlucky to get hit. One
shot would have done for us, but all fell harmless into the Danube. Soon
I was out of range, and could reckon a successful issue to my
enterprise. Still, all danger was not yet at an end; We had still to
cross among the floating pine-stems, and more than once we struck on
submerged islands, and were delayed by the branches of the poplars. At
last we reached the right bank, more than two leagues below Moelk, and a
new terror assailed me. I could see bivouac fires, and had no means of
learning whether they belonged to a French regiment. The enemy had
troops on both banks, and I knew that on the right bank Marshal Lannes'
outposts were not far from Moelk, facing an Austrian corps, posted at
Saint-Polten.
Our army would doubtless go forward at daybreak, but was it already
occupying this place? And were the fires that I saw those of friends or
enemies? I was afraid that the current had taken me too far down, but
the problem was solved by French cavalry trumpets sounding the reveille.
Our uncertainty being at an end, we rowed with all our strength to the
shore, where in the dawning light we could see a village. As we drew
near, the report of a carbine was heard, and a bullet whistled by our
ears. It was evident that the French sentries took us for a hostile
crew. I had not foreseen this possibility, and hardly knew how we were
to succeed in getting recognised, till the happy thought struck me of
making my six grenadiers shout, 'Vive l'Empereur Napoleon!' This was, of
course, no certain evidence that we were French, but it would attract
the attention of the officers, who would have no fear of our small
numbers, and would no doubt prevent the men from firing on us before
they knew whether we were French or Austrians. A few moments later I
came ashore, and I was received by Colonel Gautrin and the 9th Hussars,
forming part of Lannes' division. If we had landed half a league lower
down we should have tumbled into the enemy's pickets. The colonel lent
me a horse, and gave me several wagons, in which I placed the
grenadiers, the boatmen, and the prisoners, and the little cavalcade
went off towards Moelk. As we went along, the corporal, at my orders,
questioned the three Austrians, and I learnt with satisfaction that the
camp whence I had brought them away belonged to the very division,
General Killer's, the position of which the Emperor was so anxious to
learn. There was, therefore, no further doubt that that general had
joined the archduke on the other side of the Danube. There was no
longer any question of a battle on the road which we held, and Napoleon,
having only the enemy's cavalry in front of him, could in perfect safety
push his troops forward towards Vienna, from which we were but three
easy marches distant. With this information I galloped forward, in order
to bring it to the Emperor with the least possible delay.
When I reached the gate of the monastery, it was broad day. I found the
approach blocked by the whole population of the little town of Moelk, and
heard among the crowd the cries of the wives, children, and friends of
the sailors whom I had carried off. In a moment I was surrounded by
them, and was able to calm their anxiety by saying, in very bad German,
'Your friends are alive, and you will see them in a few moments.' A
great cry of joy went up from the crowd, bringing out the officer in
command of the guard at the gate. On seeing me he ran off in pursuance
of orders to warn the aides-de-camp to let the Emperor know of my
return. In an instant the whole palace was up. The good Marshal Lannes
came to me, embraced me cordially, and carried me straight off to the
Emperor, crying out, 'Here he is, sir; I knew he would come back. He has
brought three prisoners from General Hiller's division.' Napoleon
received me warmly, and though I was wet and muddy all over, he laid his
hand on my shoulder, and did not forget to give his greatest sign of
satisfaction by pinching my ear. I leave you to imagine how I was
questioned! The Emperor wanted to know every incident of the adventure
in detail, and when I had finished my story said, 'I am very well
pleased with you, "Major" Marbot.' These words were equivalent to a
commission, and my joy was full. At that moment, a chamberlain announced
that breakfast was served, and as I was calculating on having to wait in
the gallery until the Emperor had finished, he pointed with his finger
towards the dining-room, and said, 'You will breakfast with me.' As this
honour had never been paid to any officer of my rank, I was the more
flattered. During breakfast I learnt that the Emperor and the marshal
had not been to bed all night, and that when they heard the cannon on
the opposite bank they had all rushed on to the balcony. The Emperor
made me tell again the way in which I had surprised the three prisoners,
and laughed much at the fright and surprise which they must have felt.
At last, the arrival of the wagons was announced, but they had much
difficulty in making their way through the crowd, so eager were the
people to see the boatmen. Napoleon, thinking this very natural, gave
orders to open the gates, and let everybody come into the court. Soon
after, the grenadiers, the boatmen, and the prisoners were led into the
gallery. The Emperor, through his interpreter, first questioned the
three Austrian soldiers, and learning with satisfaction that not only
General Hiller's corps, but the whole of the archduke's army, were on
the other bank, he told Berthier to give the order for the troops to
march at once on Saint-Polten. Then, calling up the corporal and the
five soldiers, he fastened the Cross on their breast, appointed them
knights of the Empire, and gave them an annuity of 1,200 francs apiece.
All the veterans wept for joy. Next came the boatmen's turn. The Emperor
told them that, as the danger they had run was a good deal more than he
had expected, it was only fair that he should increase their reward; so,
instead of the 6,000 francs promised, 12,000 in gold were given to them
on the spot. Nothing could express their delight; they kissed the hands
of the Emperor and all present, crying, 'Now we are rich!' Napoleon
laughingly asked the syndic if he would go the same journey for the same
price the next night. But the man answered that, having escaped by
miracle what seemed certain death, he would not undertake such a journey
again even if his lordship, the abbot of Moelk, would give him the
monastery and all its possessions. The boatmen withdrew, blessing the
generosity of the French Emperor, and the grenadiers, eager to show off
their decoration before their comrades, were about to go off with their
three prisoners, when Napoleon perceived that the Austrian servant was
weeping bitterly. He reassured him as to his safety, but the poor lad
replied, sobbing, that he knew the French treated their prisoners well,
but that, as he had on him a belt, containing nearly all his captain's
money, he was afraid that the officer would accuse him of deserting in
order to rob him, and he was heart-broken at the thought. Touched by the
worthy fellow's distress, the Emperor told him that he was free, and as
soon as we were before Vienna, he would be passed through the outposts,
and be able to return to his master. Then, taking a rouleau of 1,000
francs, he put it in the man's hand, saying, 'One must honour goodness
wherever it is shown.' Lastly, the Emperor gave some pieces of gold to
each of the other two prisoners, and ordered that they too should be
sent back to the Austrian outposts, so that they might forget the fright
which we had caused them, and that it might not be said that any
soldiers, even enemies, had spoken to the Emperor of the French without
receiving some benefit.
_THE PITEOUS DEATH OF GASTON, SON OF THE COUNT OF FOIX_
MORE than five hundred years ago, on St. Catherine's Day, 1388, Master
Jean Froissart, a priest of Hainault, rode into the little town of
Orthez. He was in search of information about battles and tournaments,
for he was writing his famous 'History and Chronicle.' To get news of
all kinds he rode gaily about, with a white greyhound in a leash, and
carrying a novel which he had begun for the entertainment of ladies and
princes. Arriving at Orthez (where, long afterwards, the Duke of
Wellington fought the French on the borders of Spain), Master Froissart
alighted at the hotel with the sign of the Moon. Meanwhile a knight who
had travelled with Froissart went up to the castle, and paid his court
to Gaston Phoebus, Count of Foix. He found the Count in the gallery of
the palace just after dinner, for this prince always went to bed at
midday and took supper at midnight. He was a great and powerful noble,
of stately and beautiful presence, though now he was nearly sixty years
old. A wise knight he was, bold in enterprise, and of good counsel.
Never did he suffer any unbeliever in his company, and he was very
pious, every day making many and long prayers, and giving alms to the
poor folk at his gate. He took much delight in minstrelsy, and at his
midnight supper songs and virelays were chanted to him. Till about three
o'clock in the morning he listened while Master Froissart read aloud his
poems, tales, or histories, while the courtiers yawned, no doubt, and
wished for bedtime. But it was the good Count's manner to turn night
into day. He was sometimes melancholy, and, as is told in the story of
Orthon, men believed that he saw and knew events far distant, but in
what manner none could tell. This great prince dwelt at peace while the
wars of France, England, Portugal, and Spain raged outside his
dominions. Rich, powerful, handsome, and deeply religious, he seemed to
have everything that could make him happy, but he had no son and heir;
his lands, on his death, would go to a distant cousin. Nor did the lady
his wife live with the Count of Foix. Concerning this, and the early
death of the Count's one son, Gaston, Master Froissart was very curious,
but he found that people did not care to speak of the matter. At length
an old squire told him the story of the death of Gaston.
The Countess of Foix was the sister of the King of Navarre, and between
the Count her husband, and the King her brother, a quarrel arose on a
question of money. The Count therefore sent his wife to her brother at
Pampeluna, that she might arrange the matter; but the end of it was that
she stayed in Navarre, and did not return to her lord. Meanwhile her son
Gaston grew up at Orthez, and married a daughter of the Count of
Armagnac, being now a lad of sixteen, a good squire, and in all things
very like his father. He had a desire to see his mother, and so rode
into Navarre, hoping to bring home his mother, the Countess of Foix. But
she would not leave Navarre for all that he could say, and the day came
when he and the young squires of his company must return. Then the King
of Navarre led him apart into a secret chamber, and there gave him a
little purse. Now the purse was full of a powder of such sort that no
living creature could taste of it and live, but must die without remedy.
'Gaston, fair nephew,' said the King, 'you see how your father, the
Count, holds your mother in bitter hate--a sore grief to me and to you
also. Now to change all this, and bring your father and mother back to
their ancient love, you must watch your chance and sprinkle a little of
this powder on any food that your father is about to eat, taking good
care that no man sees you. And the powder is a charm so strong that your
father, as soon as he has tasted it, will desire nothing so much as to
be friends with your mother again, and never will they leave each other.
But you must take heed that no man knows of this purpose, or all is
lost.'
The young Count, believing, in his innocence, what his uncle said, made
answer that he would gladly do as he was bidden. Then he rode back to
Orthez, and showed his father all the presents and jewels that had been
given to him in Navarre, except the little purse.
Now it was the custom of the young Count to be much in the company of
his brother by another mother, and, as they played together one day,
this boy, named Yvain, caught hold of the little purse which Gaston
wore about his neck under his coat, and asked him what it was. But
Gaston made no answer. Three days later the lads quarrelled over a
stroke at tennis, and Gaston struck Yvain a blow. Yvain ran weeping to
his father, the Count, who asked what ailed him.
[Illustration: 'The Count leaped up, a knife in his hand']
'Gaston struck me,' said he, 'but it is Gaston, not I, who deserves a
blow.'
'What has he done?' asked the Count.
'Ever since he came from his mother's in Navarre he carries about his
neck a little purse full of a powder. But I only know that he says you
and his mother will soon be good friends once more.'
'Ha!' cried the Count, 'do you be silent.'
That day at dinner, as Gaston served the meats, for this was his duty,
the Count called to him, seized his coat, opened it, and, with his
knife, cut the purse from the boy's neck. Gaston said no word, but grew
pale and trembled. The Count opened the purse, spread the powder on a
piece of bread, and threw it to a dog. No sooner had the dog eaten the
bread than his eyes turned round, and he fell dead.
[Illustration: Gaston in prison]
The Count leaped up, a knife in his hand, and would have slain his son
as a traitor, but the knights and esquires, kneeling, prayed him to hold
his hand.
'Perchance,' said they, 'Gaston knew not the nature of that which was in
the purse, and is guiltless in this matter.'
'So be it,' said the Count. 'Hold him prisoner in the tower at your own
peril.'
Then he seized all the companions and friends of Gaston, for they must
have known, he said, that his son carried a purse secretly. Fifteen of
the fairest and noblest of the boys he put to death with horrible
tortures, but they knew nothing and could tell nothing. Then he called
together all his nobles and bishops, and told them that Gaston also must
die. But they prayed for his life, because they loved him dearly, and he
was the heir of all the Count's lands. So the Count decided to keep
Gaston in prison for some months, and then send him to travel for two or
three years. The Pope sent a cardinal to the Count, bidding him spare
Gaston, but, before the Cardinal reached Orthez, Gaston was dead.
One day the servant who took meat and drink into the boy's dark dungeon
saw that he had not tasted food for many days. All the dishes lay full
of mouldering meat in a row along the wall. Then the servant ran and
warned the Count that Gaston was starving himself to death. The Count
was trimming his nails with a little knife, and he sped in great anger
to the dungeon.
'Traitor, why dost thou not eat?' he cried, dealt the boy a cuff, and
rushed out again, and so went to his chamber.
But the point of the little knife, which was in his hand, had cut a vein
in Gaston's neck, and, being weak with hunger and grief, Gaston died,
for the vein could not be staunched. Then the Count made great lament,
and had his head shaven, and wore mourning for many days.
Thus it chanced that the Count of Foix lived without an heir, turning
night into day, praying much, and listening to minstrels, giving alms,
and hearkening to strange messages of death and war that were borne to
him how no man knew. And his brother, Pierre, was a good knight and wise
by day, yet at night madness fell on him, and he raved, beating the air
with a naked sword. And this had been his manner ever since he fought
with and slew a huge bear on the hills. Now when his wife saw that bear
brought home dead she fainted, and in three days she fled with her
children, and came back no more. For her father had once pursued that
bear, which cried to him: 'Thou huntest me who wish thee no harm, but
thou shalt die an ill death.' He then left off pursuing the bear; but
the Count's brother slew the beast on another day, and thereafter he
went mad in the night, though by day he was wise enough.
These tales were told to Master Froissart by the old squire at Orthez.
_ROLF STAKE_[33]
There was once a king in Denmark named Rolf Stake; right famous is he
among the kings of yore, foremost for liberality, daring, and courtesy.
Of his courtesy one proof celebrated in story is this.
A poor little boy named Vogg came into King Rolf's hall: the King was
then young and slender of build. Vogg went near and looked up at him.
Then said the King: 'What wouldst thou say, boy, that thou lookest at me
so?'
Vogg answered: 'When I was at home, I heard tell that King Rolf at
Hleidr was the tallest man in Northland; but now here sits in the high
seat a thin stake, and they call him their king.'
Then answered the King: 'Thou, boy, hast given me a name to be known
by--Rolf Stake to wit. 'Tis custom to follow a naming with a gift. But
now I see that thou hast not with the naming any gift to give me such as
would beseem me to accept, wherefore he of us who hath must give to the
other.' With that the King drew a gold ring from his own hand and gave
it to him.
Then said Vogg: 'Blessed above all kings be thou who givest! And by this
vow I bind me to be that man's bane who shall be thine.'