THE FLIGHT.
Bonaik, his apprentices, Rosen-Aer, and Septimine, confined since
morning in the workshop, had impatiently waited for night. Everything
was in readiness for the escape of Amael from the cavern when darkness
should set in. The glare of the brasier in the forge and the furnace
alone lighted the workshop.
"You are young and strong," said the old man to his apprentices; "for
want of better weapons, the iron bars that have been removed from the
window may serve you to defend us. Deposit them in a corner. Now pass
the barrel out of the window, and fasten to one of the hoops this
string, the other end of which is in Amael's hands. He is ready. He has
just answered my signal."
Their hearts beating with hope and anxiety, Rosen-Aer and Septimine
stood near the window in a close embrace. The apprentices pushed out the
barrel. The darkness was thick. Not even the whiteness of the building
in whose lower part lay Amael's prison, was distinguishable. Drawn
towards himself by the latter, the barrel soon disappeared in the dark.
In the measure that it went, one of the apprentices paid out the rope
attached to it. The rope was to help pull the barrel back as soon as
Amael had seized it. At that critical moment a profound silence reigned
in the workshop. All seemed to hold their breath. Despite the pitchy
darkness of the night that prevented anything being seen without, the
eyes of all sought to penetrate the obscurity. Finally, after a few
minutes of anxiety, the apprentice, who, leaning out of the window,
held the cord that was to pull the barrel back, said to the old man:
"Master Bonaik, the prisoner is out of the cavern; he is holding the
barrel; I feel the cord tighten."
"Then, you pull, my boy!... Pull gently.... Do not jerk!"
"He is coming," replied the apprentice joyfully; "the prisoner's weight
is upon the barrel."
"Great God!" suddenly cried Rosen-Aer, pointing out of the window. "Look
in the cavern! There is a light!... All is lost!"
Indeed, a strong light, shed by a lamp, suddenly appeared in the
subterranean prison. The semi-circular opening of the air-hole was
luminously marked across the darkness. The reverberation of the light
projected itself upon the water in the moat--and revealed the fugitive,
who, half submerged, held himself up with his two hands on the floating
barrel. Immediately after, Meroflede appeared at the air-hole wrapped in
her scarlet cloak with its hood thrown back, and leaning against the
remaining bars which Amael had not had time to remove. At the sight of
the fugitive, the abbess uttered a scream of rage and cried twice,
"Berthoald! Berthoald!" She then disappeared, taking her lamp with her,
so that again all was left in thickest darkness without. Frightened at
the appearance of the abbess, the apprentice who drew the barrel threw
himself back and dropped the cord. Fortunately the goldsmith seized it
as soon, and amidst the mortal fear of all, drew the barrel close to the
window, saying: "Let us first save Amael."
Thanks to the barrel, which floated almost on a level with the window
sill, the latter was easily scaled by the prisoner. His first movement
upon stepping into the workshop was to throw himself on his mother's
neck. Mother and son for a moment forgot their common danger and were
holding each other in a passionate embrace when a rap was heard at the
door.
"Woe is us!" muttered one of the apprentices. "It is the abbess!"
"Impossible!" said the goldsmith. "To ascend from the prison, pass the
cloister, cross the courtyard, and come as far as our workshop she would
need more than ten minutes."
"Bonaik!" cried from the outside the rough voice of Ricarik, "open the
door instantly."
"Oh! what shall we do! The coal vault is too narrow to conceal Rosen-Aer
and her son," muttered the old man; then raising his voice, he answered:
"Seigneur intendant, we are just at the cast, we cannot leave it----"
"That is the very operation I want to witness," cried back the
intendant. "Open immediately."
"You, Septimine, and your son remain near the window, lean out your
heads; you will otherwise be suffocated," hastily said the old man to
Rosen-Aer, taking a swift resolution. And pushing Amael, his mother and
Septimine to the casement, he whispered to one of the apprentices: "Pour
the full contents of the box of sulphur and bitumen upon the forge
brasier.... We shall fill the workshop with smoke."
The young slave obeyed mechanically. At the moment when Ricarik began
again to knock at the door with redoubled force, a sulphurous and
bituminous smoke began to spread in the workshop, and soon was so
intense that one could hardly see his hand before his eyes. Thus, when
the old man finally proceeded to open the door to the intendant, the
latter, blinded and suffocated by a puff of the pungent and thick vapor,
instead of stepping in, jumped back.
"Walk in, seigneur intendant," said Bonaik, "this is the effect of the
casting after the fashion of the great Eloi.... We could not open to you
sooner out of fear of chilling the liquid metal, which we were pouring
into the mold.... Step forward, seigneur intendant; come and see the
casting."
"Go to the devil!" answered Ricarik, coughing fit to strangle and
stepping further away from the threshold. "I am suffocated ... blinded!"
"It is the effect of the casting, dear seigneur," and watching the bunch
of keys at the belt of the intendant, who was rubbing his smarting
eyelids with both hands, Bonaik seized him by the throat and cried:
"This way, boys! He has the keys of the gates!"
At the call of the old man, the apprentices and Amael rushed forward,
precipitated themselves upon the intendant and smothered his cries by
holding his throat tight, while Bonaik, seizing the bunch of keys, said:
"Drag this fellow into the workshop and throw him out of the window into
the moat. That will settle him quickly, and he will no longer punish and
kill poor slaves!"
The old man's orders were immediately executed. Despite the resistance
of the Frank, the noise of his body was soon heard, dropping into the
water.
"Now," cried the old man, "all come here! Follow me and let us run!"
Hardly had the old man taken a few steps in the alley when he saw the
slave who watched the gate approaching from a distance with a lighted
lantern in his hand. "Remain hidden in the shadow," the goldsmith said
in a low voice to the fugitives, and he walked briskly toward the
gateman, who met him with a look of surprise:
"Helloa, old Bonaik! Is not the intendant in your workshop? I do not
know what the man is thinking about. It is two hours since the boat and
oarsmen are waiting for his messenger.... They are growing impatient and
want to go."
"They will not have long to wait; I am the messenger."
"Are you going to fill the functions of messenger?"
"Do you know this bunch of keys?"
"Surely I know this bunch of keys. It is the one the intendant always
carries at his belt."
"He confided it to me so that I could get out of the abbey yard in case
you were not at your lodge. Let us go quick to the boat. Walk ahead."
Convinced by the sincerity of the old man, whose presence of mind seemed
to grow with the difficulties that arose in his way, the gateman marched
ahead of him. Bonaik, however, slackened his pace, and, calling to one
of the apprentices, in a low voice said: "Justin, you and the others
follow me at a distance; the night is dark, the light of the gateman's
lantern will guide us, but the moment you hear me whistle, all run up to
me." Having attended to that, Bonaik addressed the gateman who had gone
far ahead: "Helloa, Bernard! Do not walk so fast; you forget that at my
age one's legs are not as nimble as yours." Thus, preceded by the
gateman and followed at a distance in the dark by the rest of the
fugitives, Bonaik arrived at the outer court of the monastery. Bernard
stopped and seemed to listen.
"What's the matter?" asked the goldsmith. "Why do you halt?"
"Do you not see the flare of torches lighting the top of the wall of the
inside court? Do you not hear voices?"
"March, man! March! I have other business in hand than to stop to look
at torches, or listen to noises. I must obey our holy abbess and deliver
Ricarik's message as soon as possible. I have not a second to lose.
Quick, let's hurry."
"But something out of the usual order is going on in the monastery!"
"It is for that very reason that the intendant sent me off with so much
haste on this message.... Hurry up! Time presses!"
"Oh, that is something else, old Bonaik," answered Bernard, quickening
his steps. The gateman hurried on, arrived in a minute at the outside
enclosure, and opened the gate. Immediately the old man whistled.
Greatly surprised at this, the gateman asked him: "What are you
whistling for? The door is open. Go out, if you are in such a hurry. But
I hear steps. They seem to be running this way. Who are these people?"
and he raised his lantern in order to obtain a better view. "There are
two women; who may they be?"
Bonaik cut short the gateman's observations with the peremptory order to
the fugitives: "Take the key out of the lock and close it after you.
That will keep the gateman locked in." Hardly had the old man pronounced
these words when Amael, the apprentices, Rosen-Aer and Septimine rushed
through the opening. One of the apprentices pushed Bernard roughly back
into the court, took out the key, pulled the door after him and locked
it on the outside. Bonaik took up the lantern and cried: "Helloa, there!
The boat! Come here for us to embark!"
"Come this way!" answered several voices. "This way! The boat is tied to
the large willow tree."
"Master Bonaik," said one of the apprentices in great trepidation, "we
are pursued. The porter is calling for help. Look at the glimmer of
approaching torches! They seem to be in the garden that we have just
left."
"There is now nothing to fear, my lads, the gate is studded with iron
and locked from without. Before they can have time to break it down, we
shall have embarked," saying which the old man proceeded at a rapid pace
towards the willow tree. Observing on his way a full bag on Justin's
shoulder, Bonaik said to him: "What have you got in that bag?"
"Master Bonaik, while you were talking to the intendant, Gervais and I,
fearing some oversight on your part, took, out of precaution, I, my bag
in which I stowed away the rest of our provisions, and Gervais the wine
pouch which is still half full."
"You are wise lads; we have a long tramp before us after we shall have
disembarked."
A few minutes later and the old man, together with his companions,
arrived at the old willow tree. A boat stood ready. Four slave oarsmen
sat on the benches, with the steersman at the rudder. "At last!" said
the steersman in a peevish tone. "Here we have been waiting over three
hours; we are chilled through, and have more than two hours to row--"
"I am going to give you a piece of good news, my friends," answered the
goldsmith to the boatmen. "I have brought oarsmen with me to relieve
you. You can go back to the monastery. The steersman alone will have to
remain to pilot the boat."
Glad and quickly the slaves jumped out of the boat. The steersman
resigned himself not without a murmur. Bonaik let Rosen-Aer and
Septimine enter first. Amael and the apprentices took hold of the oars,
the steersman the rudder, and the boat swiftly left the bank behind,
while Bonaik, wiping the sweat from his brow, said with a sigh of relief
and joy:
"Oh, my boys, this was a casting day such as I never saw in the workshop
of the great Eloi!"