The Abbatial Crosier; or, Bonaik and Septimine. A Tale of a Medieval Abbess. Эжен Сю
son, was nearly dying, did you not ask to take care of him the same as a mother would? Did you not watch at his bedside during the long nights of his illness as if he were your own son? It was, accordingly, in recompense for your services, as well as in obedience to the behest of the Koran —deliver your brothers from bondage– that I offered you your freedom."
"What else could I have done with my freedom? I am all alone in the world… I saw my brother and husband killed under my own eyes in a desperate fight with your soldiers when they invaded the valley of Charolles; and before those days I wept my son Amael, who had disappeared six years before. I wept him then, as I do still every day, inconsolable at his absence."
Rosen-Aër spoke these words and could not keep back the tears that welled in her eyes and inundated her face. Abd-el-Kader looked at her sadly and replied: "Your motherly sorrow has often touched me. I can neither console you, nor give you hope. How could your son now be found, seeing he disappeared when barely fifteen years of age! It is a question whether he still lives."
"He would now be twenty-five; but," added Rosen-Aër drying her tears, "let us not now talk of my son; I am afraid he is lost to me forever… But why say you that we see each other to-day, perhaps, for the last time?"
"Charles Martel, the chief of the Franks, is advancing with forced marches at the head of a formidable army to drive us out of Gaul. I was notified yesterday of his approach. Within two days, perhaps, the Franks will be upon the walls of Narbonne. Abd-el-Malek, our new emir, is of the opinion that our troops should go out and meet Charles… We are about to depart. The battle will be bloody. God may wish to send me death. That is why I came to tell you we may never meet again… If God should will it so, what will become of you?"
"You have several times generously offered me freedom, money and a guide to travel through Gaul and look for my child. But I lacked the courage and strength, or rather my reason told me how insane such an undertaking would be in the midst of the civil wars that are desolating our unhappy country. If I am not to see you again and I must leave this house, where at least I have been able to weep in peace, free from the shame and the trials of slavery, there will be nothing left to me but to die."
"I do not like to see you despair, Rosen-Aër. This is my plan for you. During my absence you shall leave Narbonne. My forces are to take the field against the Franks; my army is brave, but the will of God is immovable. If it be his pleasure that victory fall to Charles and that the Franks prevail over the Crescent, they may lay siege to this town and take it. In that event you and all its inhabitants will be exposed to the fate of people in a place carried by assault – death or slavery. It is with an eye to withdrawing you from so sad a fate that I would induce you to leave the town, and to take temporary shelter in one of the Gallic colonies nearby that cultivate my fields."
"Your fields!" exclaimed Rosen-Aër with bitterness; "you should rather say the fields that your soldiers seized by force and rapine, the inseparable companions of conquest."
"Such was the will of God."
"Oh, for the sake of your race and of yourself, Abd-el-Kader, I hope the will of God may save you the pain of some day seeing the fields of your fathers at the mercy of conquerors!"
"God ordains … Man submits. If God decrees against Charles Martel at the approaching battle and we are victorious, you can return here to Narbonne; if we are vanquished, if I am killed in the battle, if we are driven out of Gaul, you shall have nothing to fear in the retreat that I am providing for you. You can remain with the family of my servant. Here is a little purse with enough gold pieces to supply your wants."
"I shall remember you, Abd-el-Kader, as a generous man, despite the wrong your race has done mine."
"God sent us hither to cause the religion preached by Mahomet to triumph, the only true religion. May his name be glorified."
"But the Christian bishops, priests and monks also pretend that their religion is the only true one."
"Let them prove it … we leave them free to preach their belief. Barely a century since its foundation, the Musselman faith has subjugated the Orient almost entirely, Spain and a portion of Gaul. We are instruments of the divine will. If God has decided that I shall die in the approaching battle, then we shall not meet again. Should I die and yet our arms triumph, my sons, if they survive me, will take care of you… Ibraham venerates you as his own mother."
"Do you take Ibraham to battle?"
"The youth who can manage a steed and hold a sword is of battle age… Do you accept my offer, Rosen-Aër?"
"Yes; I tremble at the very thought of falling into the hands of the Franks! Sad days these are for us. We have only the choice of servitudes. Happy, at least, are those who, like myself, meet among their masters compassionate hearts."
"Make yourself ready… I myself shall depart in an hour at the head of a part of my troops. I shall come for you. We shall leave the house together; you to proceed to the colonist who occupies my country house, and I to march against the Frankish army."
When Abd-el-Kader returned for Rosen-Aër, he had donned his battle costume. He wore a brilliant steel cuirass, and a red turban wrapped around his gilded casque. A scimitar of marvelous workmanship hung from his belt; its sheath as well as its handle of massive gold was ornamented with arabesques of corals and diamonds. The Arab warrior said to Rosen-Aër with suppressed emotion: "Allow me to embrace you as a daughter."
Rosen-Aër gave Abd-el-Kader her forehead, saying: "I pray that your children may long retain their father."
The Arab and the Gallic woman left the harem together. Outside they met the five sons of the chief – Abd-Allah, Hasam, Abul-Casem, Mahomet and Ibraham, the youngest, all in full armor, on horseback and carrying over their arms long and light white woolen cloaks with black tufts. The youngest of the family, a lad of barely fifteen, alighted from his horse when he saw Rosen-Aër, took her hand, kissed it respectfully and said: "You have been a mother to me; before departing for battle I greet you as a son."
The Gallic woman thought of her son Amael, who also was fifteen years when he departed from the valley of Charolles, and answered the young man: "May God protect you, you who are now to incur the risk of war for the first time!"
"'Believers, when you march upon the enemy, be unshakable,' says the prophet," the lad replied with mild yet grave voice. "We are going to deliver battle to the infidel Franks. I shall fight bravely under the eyes of my father… God alone disposes of our lives. His will be done."
Once more kissing the hand of Rosen-Aër, the young Arab helped her mount her mule that was led by a black slave. From the distance the martial bray of the Saracen clarions was heard. Abd-el-Kader waved his last adieu to Rosen-Aër, and the Arab, with whom age had not weakened the martial ardor of younger years, leaped upon his horse and galloped off, followed by his five sons. For a few moments longer the Gallic woman followed with her eyes the long white cloaks that the rapid course of the Arab and his five children raised to the wind. When they had disappeared in a cloud of dust at a turning of the street, Rosen-Aër ordered the black slave to lead the mule towards the main gate of the town in order to ride out and reach the colonist's house.
PART I.
THE CONVENT OF ST. SATURNINE
CHAPTER I.
THE LAST OF THE MEROVINGIANS
About a month had elapsed since the departure of Abd-el-Kader and his five sons to meet Charles Martel in battle.
A boy of eleven or twelve years, confined in the convent of St. Saturnine in Anjou, was leaning on his elbows at the sill of a narrow window on the first floor of one of the buildings of the abbey, and looking out upon the fields. The vaulted room in which the boy was kept was cold, spacious, bare and floored with stone. In a corner stood a little bed, and on a table a few toys roughly cut out of coarse wood. A few stools and a trunk were its only furniture. The boy himself, dressed in a threadbare and patched black serge, had a sickly appearance. His face, biliously pale, expressed profound sadness. He looked at the distant fields, and tears ran down his hollow cheeks. While he was dreaming awake, the door of the room opened and a young girl of about sixteen stepped in softly. Her complexion was dark brown but