ASYLUM.
Berthoald was received by the intendant, whom, controlling his own
anger, he followed to a near spot where two horses stood saddled.
Ricarik left about a dozen slaves and colonists behind to watch the
trench under the starry sky, and motioning Berthoald to one of the
horses, leaped upon the other and galloped ahead. The young chief rode
in the wake of his guide, rage alternating in his breast with curiosity
concerning the fighting abbess who gave such unsatisfactory tokens of
resignation to the decree that dispossessed her of her benefice. In the
course of the ride towards the abbey, Berthoald encountered two other
protected ditches, like the first, but crossable by means of drawbridges
that were let down to allow him and his guide to pass. A short while
after crossing the second of these two ditches, Berthoald stood near the
outer enclosure of the abbey. The enclosure consisted of thick joists
well fastened together and planted from bank to bank of the two ponds
that lay on both sides. The buildings of the abbey rose upon a vast
peninsular field, accessible only from the side of the causeway that had
just been put in a state of defence. Behind the monastery, a tongue of
land connected with the forest, whose crest bordered the horizon, thus
offering another passage. Berthoald noticed many lights inside of the
enclosure, projected, no doubt, by torches. The intendant took a copper
horn that hung from the pommel of his saddle and blew a call. An
iron-barbed door facing the jetty opened slowly. Preceded by his guide,
Berthoald entered the first courtyard of the abbey, and found himself
face to face with the abbess on horseback, surrounded by several
torch-bearing slaves. Meroflede had lowered the cape of her scarlet
cloak half over her forehead. At her side hung a gold-handled hunting
knife in a steel sheath. Berthoald was seized with astonishment at the
sight of the woman as she sat in the light of the torches. Her costume,
at once monastic and martial, set off the supple and easy frame of the
abbess. The young chief found her handsome as far as he could judge
across the shadow projected upon her face by her half-drawn cowl.
"I know that you are Berthoald," said Meroflede in a vibrating and
sonorous voice; "and so you have come to take possession of my abbey?"
"This abbey has been given me and my companions of war by Charles, the
chief of the Franks. Yes, I have come to take possession."
Meroflede indulged in a laugh of disdain, and despite the shadow that
veiled her face, her laughter exposed to the eyes of Berthoald two rows
of pearly white teeth. The abbess gave her horse a slight touch of her
heel and bade the young man follow.
At the moment when Meroflede's horse was put on the march,
Broute-Saule--now healed of the peckings of the sparrow-hawk, and no
longer clad in rags, but wearing on the contrary an elegant green
jacket, buck-skin hose, neat leather shoes and a rich fur cap--placed
himself at the horse's head with his hands on the reins. Thus walking
between the abbess and Berthoald, the young hawk thief watched
attentively the slightest motion of Meroflede and covered her with
ardent and jealous eyes. From time to time he cast an uneasy glance at
the young chief. The torch-bearing slaves followed close behind the
abbess and Berthoald to the inner courtyard. Meroflede entered with
Berthoald and indicated to him fifty colonists in martial order and
armed with bows and slings.
"Do you think these premises are sufficiently protected, my valiant
captain?" asked Meroflede.
"For me and my men, a slinger or an archer is no more dangerous than a
dog that barks at a distance. We let the arrows whiz, the stones fly and
get within our sword's length. To-morrow at break of day you will know
what you have to expect, dame abbess ... should you insist upon
defending the abbey."
Meroflede again laughed and said: "If you love a fight at close quarters
your taste will be suited to-morrow."
"Not to-morrow!" cried Broute-Saule, casting upon Berthoald a look of
concentrated hatred and mistrust; "if you wish to fight, fight on the
spot ... right here in this yard, by the light of the torches and under
the eyes of our holy abbess; although I have neither casque nor cuirass,
I am your man!"
Meroflede playfully struck Broute-Saule's cap with her whip and said
smiling: "Hold your tongue, slave!"
Berthoald made no answer to the challenge of the hot-headed lad, and
silently followed the abbess, who, riding out of this second yard, moved
towards a spacious building from which confused cries were heard to
proceed. She leaned over her horse, and said a few words in the ear of
Broute-Saule. The latter seemed to hesitate before obeying. Seeing this,
she added imperiously:
"Did you hear me?"
"Holy dame--"
"Will you obey!" cried Meroflede impetuously, striking Broute-Saule with
her whip. "Do as you are told, slave!"
The face of Broute-Saule became livid and his furious eyes fell not upon
Meroflede but upon Berthoald. But the lad made a violent effort to
control himself; he obeyed, and ran forward to execute his mistress'
orders. Immediately after, about a hundred men of sinister and
determined mien and dressed in rags came out of the building, drew up
in line and brandished their lances, swords and axes, shouting: "Long
live our holy abbess, Meroflede!" Several women who were among the men
cried no less noisily: "Long live our abbess! Long live our holy dame!"
"Do you, who have come to take possession of this monastery," said
Meroflede to the young chief with a caustic smile, "know what the right
of asylum imports?"
"A criminal who takes refuge in a church is protected from the justice
of men."
"You are a treasure of science, worthy of carrying the crosier and the
mitre! Well, these good folks that you see there are the flower of the
bandits of this region; the least guilty of them has committed one or
two murders. Apprised of your approach, I offered them to leave the
asylum of the basilica of Nantes by night, and promised them asylum in
the chapel of the abbey, and the indulgence of the good old times. If
they leave this place the gibbet awaits them. That will give you an idea
of the fury with which they will defend the monastery against your men,
who would not be Christian enough to extend to them a similar
protection. It is easy enough to accept the gift of an abbey, it is more
difficult to take possession of it. You now know what forces I have at
my command. Let us enter the monastery. After so long a journey, you
must feel tired. I extend hospitality to you. You shall sup with me....
To-morrow, at daybreak, you shall rejoin your companions. You surely are
a prudent councilor. You will induce your band to look for some other
abbey, and you will lead them in the search."
"I see with pleasure, holy abbess, that solitude and the austerities of
the cloister have not impaired the joviality of your temper."
"Ah! You think I am jovial?"
"You suggest with an amusing seriousness that I and my men who have
been fighting the Arabs, Frisians and Saxons since the battle of
Poitiers, shall now turn tail to this handful of murderers and robbers,
reinforced by poor colonists who have left the plow for the lance, and
the hoe for the sling!"
"You braggart!" cried Broute-Saule, who had returned to his place at the
head of Meroflede's horse. "Will you have us two take an axe? We shall
strip to the waist, and you will find out whether the men of this place
are cowards!"
"You look to me to be a brave lad," answered Berthoald smiling. "If you
would like to remain with us at the abbey, you will find a place in the
ranks of my companions."
"We must have a truce from now till to-morrow.... You are surely tired.
You shall be taken to a bath. That will refresh you. After that we shall
sup. I can not treat you to a feast such as St. Agnes and St. Radegonde
treated their favorite poet, Bishop Fortunat, to at their abbey of
Poitiers, in short skirts. But you will not starve." Meroflede then
turned to Ricarik: "You have my orders, obey them!"
While speaking, Meroflede had drawn near the interior door of the abbey.
With a light leap she alighted from her horse and disappeared within the
cloister, after throwing the bridle to Broute-Saule. The lad followed
the fascinating woman with looks of despair, and he then slowly returned
to the stables, after shaking his fist at Berthoald. The latter, who was
more and more struck by the oddities of the abbess, did not notice
Broute-Saule's threatening gesture but was steeped in thought when
Ricarik recalled him to his surroundings, saying: "Alight; the slaves
will conduct you to the bath; they will help you take off your armor,
and as your baggage is not here they will furnish you with proper
vestments--they are a new hose and coat that I never used. You may put
them on should you prefer them to your iron shell. I shall later come
for you to sup with our holy dame."