The Gold Sickle; Or, Hena, The Virgin of The Isle of Sen. A Tale of Druid Gaul. Эжен Сю

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[B] Ardent.

[C] Man-eater.

      The stranger emitted a sigh of suppressed rage, bit what he could reach of his long blonde mustache and raised his eyes to heaven.

      Joel proceeded while pricking his oxen:

      "Mikael, my second son, is an armorer at Alrè, four leagues from here… He does not fashion war implements only, but also plow-coulters and long Gallic scythes and axes that are highly prized, because he draws his iron from the mountains of Arres… But there is more, friend traveler… Mikael does other things besides. Before establishing himself at Alrè, he was at Bourges and worked with one of our parents who is a descendant of the first artisan who ever conceived the idea of alloying iron and copper with block-tin, a composition in which the artisans of Bourges excel… Thus my son Mikael came away a worthy pupil of his masters. Oh, if you only saw the things he turns out! You would think the horse's bits, the chariot ornaments, the superb casques of war that Mikael manufactures to be of silver! He has just finished a casque the point of which represents an elk's head with its horns… There is nothing more magnificent!"

      "O!" murmured the stranger between his teeth, "how true is the saying: 'The Sword of a Gaul kills but once, his tongue massacres you without end!'"

      "Friend guest, so far I can bestow no praise upon your tongue, which is as silent as a fish's. But I shall await your leisure, when it will be your turn to tell me who you are, whence you come, where you are going to, what you have seen in your travels, what wonderful people you have met, and the latest news from the sections of Gaul that you have traversed. While waiting for your narratives, I shall finish informing you about myself and family."

      At this threat the stranger contorted his members in an effort to snap his bonds; he failed; the rope was staunch, and Joel as well as his son made perfect knots.

      "I have not yet spoken to you of my third son Albinik the sailor," continued Joel. "He traffics with the island of Great Britanny, as well as all the ports of Gaul, and he goes as far as Spain carrying Gascony wines and salted provisions from Aquitaine… Unfortunately he has been at sea a long time with his lovely wife Meroë; so you will not see them this evening at my house. I told you that besides three sons I had a daughter … as to her! Oh, as to her!.. See here," added Joel with an air that was at once boastful and tender, "she is the pearl of the family… It is not I only who say so, my wife also, my sons, my whole tribe says the same thing. There is but one voice to sing the praises of Hena, the daughter of Joel … of Hena, one of the virgins of the Isle of Sen."

      "What!" cried the traveler sitting up with a start, the only motion allowed to him by his bonds, that held his feet tied and his arms pinioned behind him. "What? Your daughter? Is she one of the virgins of the Isle of Sen?"

      "That seems to astonish and somewhat mollify you, friend guest!"

      "Your daughter?" the stranger proceeded, as if unable to believe what he heard. "Your daughter?.. Is she one of the nine druid priestesses of the Isle of Sen?"

      "As true as that to-morrow it will be eighteen years since she was born! We have been preparing to celebrate her birthday, and you may attend the feast. The guest seated at our hearth is of our family… You will see my daughter. She is the most beautiful, the sweetest, the wisest of her companions, without thereby detracting from any of them."

      "Very well, then," brusquely replied the unknown, "I shall pardon you the violence you committed upon me."

      "Hospitable violence, friend."

      "Hospitable, or not, you prevented me by force from proceeding to the wharf of Erer, where a boat awaited me until sunset, to take me to the Isle of Sen."

      At these words Joel broke out laughing.

      "What are you laughing about?" asked the stranger.

      "If you were to tell me that a boat with the head of a dog, the wings of a bird and the tail of a fish was waiting for you to take you to the sun, I would laugh as loud, and for the same reason. You are my guest; I shall not insult you by telling you that you lie. But I will tell you, friend, you are joking when you talk of a boat that is to take you to the Isle of Sen. No man, excepting the very oldest druids, have ever or ever will set foot on the Isle of Sen."

      "And when you go there to see your daughter?"

      "I do not step on the isle. I stop at the little island of Kellor. There I wait for my daughter, and she goes there to meet me."

      "Friend Joel," said the traveler, "you have so willed it that I be your guest; I am that, and, as such, I ask a service of you. Take me to-morrow in your boat to the little island of Kellor."

      "Do you know that the ewaghs watch day and night?"

      "I know it. It was one of them who was to come for me this evening at the wharf of Erer to conduct me to Talyessin the oldest of the druids, who, at this hour, is at the Isle of Sen with his wife Auria."

      "That is true!" exclaimed Joel much surprised. "The last time my daughter came home she said that Talyessin was on the isle since the new year, and that the wife of Talyessin tendered her a mother's care."

      "You see, you may believe me, friend Joel. Take me to-morrow to the island of Kellor; I shall see one of the ewaghs."

      "I consent. I shall take you to the island of Kellor."

      "And now you may loosen my bonds. I swear by Hesus that I shall not seek to elude your hospitality."

      "Very well," responded Joel, loosening the stranger's bonds; "I trust my guest's promise."

      While this conversation proceeded it had grown pitch dark. But the darkness notwithstanding and the difficulties of the road, the chariot, conducted by the sure hand of Joel, rolled up before his house. His son, Guilhern, who, mounted on the stranger's horse, had followed the van, took an ox-horn that was opened at both ends, and using it for a trumpet blew three times. The signal was speedily answered by a great barking of dogs.

      "Here we are at home!" said Joel to the stranger. "Be not alarmed at the barking of the dogs. Listen! That loud voice that dominates all the others is Deber-Trud's, from whom descends the valiant breed of war dogs that you will see to-morrow. My son Guilhern will take your horse to the stable. The animal will find a good shelter and plenty of provender."

      At the sound of Guilhern's trump, one of the family came out of the house holding a resin torch. Guided by the light, Joel led his oxen and the chariot entered the yard.

      CHAPTER II

      Like all other rural homes, Joel's was spacious and round of shape. The walls consisted of two rows of hurdles, the space between which was filled with a mixture of beaten clay and straw; the inside and outside of the thick wall was plastered over with a layer of fine and fattish earth, which, when dry, was hard as sandstone. The roofing was large and projecting. It consisted of oaken joists joined together and covered with a layer of seaweed laid so thick that it was proof against water.

      On either side of the house stood the barns destined for the storage of the harvest, and also for the stables, the sheepfolds, the kennels, the storerooms and the washrooms.

      These several structures formed an oblong square that surrounded a large yard, closed up at night with a massive gate. On the outside, a strong palisade, raised on the brow of a deep ditch, enclosed the system of buildings, leaving between it and them an alley about four feet wide. Two large and ferocious СКАЧАТЬ