The Casque's Lark; or, Victoria, the Mother of the CampsSue, Eugène
History
The Casque's Lark; or, Victoria, the Mother of the Camps
Sue, Eugène
Gaul -- History -- 58 B.C.-511 A.D. -- Fiction
Carried upon the shoulders of the four black warriors, I traversed a
section of the Frankish camp. The vast bivouac which was arranged
without order, consisted of huts for the chiefs and tents for the
soldiers. It was a sort of gigantic village of savages. Here and there
lay their innumerable war chariots sheltered under rude sheds made of
the trunks of trees. Their indefatigable small, lean, rough-coated and
shaggy-maned horses, that they managed with a halter of cord for only
bridle, were, as is the custom with these barbarians, tied to the wheels
of the chariots or to the trunks of trees, the bark of which they gnawed
at. The Franks themselves, barely clad in skins of animals, their hair
and beard greasy with suet, presented an aspect that was repulsive,
stupid and ferocious. Some of them were stretched out at full length in
the warm rays of that sun that they started in search of from the depths
of their dark northern forests. Others found amusement in the hunt for
vermin over their hairy bodies; these barbarians lived in such filth
that, although they were in the open air, their encampment exhaled a
fetid odor.
At the sight of these undisciplined hordes, ill armed but innumerable,
and whose forces were incessantly recruited by fresh migrations that
poured down in mass from the glacial regions of the north to swoop upon
the fertile and laughing fields of our Gaul as upon a prey, certain
words of sinister omen that escaped the lips of Victoria came to my
mind. Nevertheless supreme contempt speedily filled me for those
barbarians, who, three or four times superior to our own armies in point
of numbers, never had been able, despite many a bloody battle delivered
for a number of years, to invade our soil, but found themselves every
time driven back to the other side of the Rhine, our natural frontier.
While crossing a section of the encampment on the shoulders of the four
black warriors who carried me, I was pursued by insults, threats and
cries for my blood from the Franks who saw me pass. Several times was
the escort that accompanied me obliged, upon orders from Riowag, to use
their arms in order to prevent my being slain on the spot.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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