Читать книгу The Casque's Lark; or, Victoria, the Mother of the Camps - Эжен Сю - Страница 6

The Frankish chief who stood before me was a man of colossal stature. Due to the use of lime-water, his beard as well as his greasy hair, that rose in a knot over his forehead, had turned coppery red. His hair, tied with a leather thong on the top of his head, fell behind his shoulders like the flowing crest of a casque. Above each of his bushy red eyebrows I saw an eagle's talon tattooed in blue, while another scarlet tattoo mark, representing the undulations of a serpent, spanned his forehead. His left cheek was also ornamented with a red and blue tattoo that consisted of transverse rays. On his right cheek, however, the savage ornament disappeared almost wholly in the cavity of a deep scar that began below the eye and was finally lost under his shaggy beard. Heavy and coarsely-wrought gold medals, that hung from and distended his ears, dropped upon his shoulders. A heavy silver chain, wound three times around his neck, reached down to his semi-bare breast. Above his cloth tunic he wore a jacket of some animal's hide. His hose, of the same quality and as soiled as his tunic, were fastened by a leather belt from which, on one side, hung a long sword, on the other an axe of sharp stone. Wide strips of tanned skin criss-crossed upward over his hose, from the ankle to the knees. He leaned upon a short pike that ended in a sharp point. The other kings who accompanied Neroweg were tattooed, clad and armed more or less after the same fashion. The features of all bore the stamp of savage gravity.

Elwig, who remained on her knees at my side, sought to conceal her face from Neroweg. He rudely touched his sister's shoulder with the point of his pike, and addressed her harshly:

"Why did you send for me before boiling the Gallic dog for your auguries? My flayers have promised me his skin."

"The hour is not favorable," answered the priestess abruptly with a mysterious air. "The hour of night – of dark night is preferable to sacrifice to the gods of the nether world. The Gaul, moreover, says, oh mighty king, that he has a message from Victoria and her son."

Neroweg drew nearer and looked at me. At first his mien was one of disdainful indifference; presently, however, as he examined me more attentively, his features assumed an expression of hatred and of triumphant rage; at last he cried as if he could not believe his own eyes:

"It is he! He is the horseman of the bay steed! It is himself!"

"Do you know him?" Elwig asked her brother. "Do you know this prisoner?"

"Off with you!" was Neroweg's brusque answer. "Get you gone!"

He then proceeded to contemplate me with renewed interest and repeated:

"Yes, it is he; the horseman of the bay steed!"

"Did you ever meet him in battle?" again asked Elwig. "Answer me. Do answer me!"

"Will you be gone!" repeated Neroweg now raising his pike over the head of the priestess. "I told you before, be gone!"

My eyes at that moment caught sight of the group of black warriors. I saw that their captain Riowag could hardly be restrained by his men from drawing his sword, and revenging the insult offered to Elwig by Neroweg.

But so far from obeying her brother, and no doubt fearing that in her absence I might reveal to the Terrible Eagle both her own fratricidal projects and the secret of Victoria's presents which she coveted, Elwig cried:

"No! No! I remain here! The prisoner belongs to me for my auguries. I shall not go away. I shall keep him – "

The only answer that Neroweg vouchsafed his sister were several blows with the handle of his pike, delivered over her back. He thereupon made a sign, and several of the warriors who accompanied him violently drove the priestess, together with the haggish old assistant, back into the cavern at the mouth of which they posted themselves on guard, sword in hand.

The black warriors who surrounded Riowag were put to their mettle in order to prevent their captain from precipitating himself with drawn sword upon the Terrible Eagle. The latter, thinking only of me, failed to notice the fury of his rival, and addressed me in a voice trembling with rage, while he kicked me with his feet:

"Do you recognize me, dog?"

"I recognize you, rapacious wolf."

"This wound," resumed Neroweg carrying his finger to the deep scar that furrowed his cheek, "do you know who made this wound?"

"Yes, it is my handiwork. I fought you as a soldier."

"You lie! You fought me like a coward! You were two against one!"

"You were making a furious onset on the son of Victoria the Great. He was wounded – his hand could hardly hold his sword – I dashed to his help – and struck in Gallic fashion."

"You marked my face with your Gallic sword – dog!"

Saying this Neroweg struck me repeatedly with the handle of his pike, to the great amusement of the other kings.

I remembered my ancestor Guilhern, chained like a slave and supporting with dignity the cruel treatment of the Romans after the battle of Vannes. I emulated his example. I merely said to Neroweg:

"You are striking an unarmed soldier who is bound fast and who, relying upon the truce, came to you on an errand of peace – that is a coward's act. You would not dare to raise your stick at me if I stood on my feet and sword in hand."

The Frankish chief laughed, struck me again and said:

"He is a fool who, able to kill his enemy disarmed, does not exterminate him. I would like to kill you twice over. You are doubly my enemy. I hate you because you are a Gaul, I hate you because your race holds Gaul, the country of sunshine, of good wine and beautiful women; then also I hate you because you marked my face with a wound that is my eternal shame. I shall therefore make you suffer so much that your pain will be equal to two deaths, a thousand deaths, if I only could – you Gallic dog!"

"The Gallic dog is a noble animal for war and for the hunt," I replied to him; "the Frankish wolf, however, is an animal of rapine and carnage. But it will not be long before the brave Gallic dogs will have chased from their frontiers this pack of voracious wolves that have come prowling from the northern forests. Be careful! If you refuse to listen to the message that I have for you from Victoria and her valiant son – be careful! Our army is numerous. It will be a war to the death that will be waged between the Gallic dog and the Frankish wolf – a war of extermination – and the Frankish wolf will be devoured by the Gallic dog."

Grinding his teeth with rage, Neroweg seized the axe that hung from his belt, and raising it in both hands was about to let it come crashing down upon my head. I believed my last hour had come, but two of the other kings held the arm of Elwig's brother, into whose ears they whispered a few words that seemed to calm him. He held a short conference with his companions and returned to me:

"What is the message that you bring from Victoria for the Frankish kings?"

"The messenger of Victorin and Victoria can only speak on his feet, unfettered, his head high – not stretched down on the ground, and bound fast like the ox that expects the butcher's knife. Order my bonds to be removed, and I shall speak – if not, not. You have heard me, brute that you are!"

"Speak on the spot – unconditionally, you Gallic dog! – or tremble before my anger!"

"No; I shall not speak!"

"I shall know how to make you speak!"

"Try it! You will find me unshakeable!"

Neroweg ordered one of the other kings to fetch a firebrand from under the brass caldron. I was held down by the shoulders and feet, so as to prevent me from making the slightest motion, while the Terrible Eagle placed the firebrand upon my iron cuirass and heaped up others about it. The brasier that he thus built upon my body seemed to amuse him greatly. He laughed out aloud and said to me:

"You shall speak, or be broiled like a tortoise in its shell."

The iron of my cuirass soon began to heat under the coals which two of the Frankish kings kept alive by blowing upon them. I suffered greatly and cried:

"Oh! Neroweg! Neroweg! Cowardly assassin! I would gladly endure these tortures, if I only could see myself once more sword in hand before you, and put my mark upon your other cheek. Oh! You have said it – there is room only for hatred and death between our two races!"