The Poniard's Hilt; Or, Karadeucq and Ronan. A Tale of Bagauders and VagresSue, Eugène
History
The Poniard's Hilt; Or, Karadeucq and Ronan. A Tale of Bagauders and Vagres
Sue, Eugène
France -- History -- To 987 -- Fiction
"I am an old roadster, I tell you. Accordingly, before entering
Britanny, I bravely donned a priest's robe, and painted on my pack a big
cross with flames red as hell-fire. The Frankish thieves are as stupid
as they are savage; they fear the devil, whom the bishops frighten them
with in order to share with them the spoils of Gaul. They would not
dare to attack me, taking me for a priest."
"Come, supper is ready--to table," said old Araim; and addressing his
son's wife, who continued to give signs of preoccupation, he said to her
in a low voice:
"What is the matter, Madalen? Are you still thinking of the Korrigans?"
"This stranger who disguises himself in the robe of a priest without
being one will bring misfortune over our house. The tempest's fury seems
to have redoubled since he came in."
It is an impossible thing to allay a mother's apprehensions once they
are aroused.
The family and the guest sat down to table, ate and drank. The peddler
drank and ate like a man to whom the road imparts a good appetite. The
jaws did their ample duty; teeth and tongues played their parts well;
the family was in good spirits. It is not every long winter's night that
one has a peddler from Paris in his company.
"And what is going on in Paris, brave roadster?"
"The most satisfactory thing that I have seen in the city was the
burying of the King of the cursed Franks!"
"Ah! Is their King dead?"
"He died more than two months ago--on the 25th of November of last year,
of the year 512 of the 'Incarnation of the Word,' as the bishops say who
blessed and gave sepulchre to the crowned murderer in the basilica of
the Holy Apostles at Paris."
"Ah! He is dead, that Frankish King! And what was his name?"
"He had a devil of a name, Hlode-Wig."
"It must choke one to pronounce it--"
"Hlode-Wig was his name. His wife, whom they call the Queen, is no less
happily endowed--her name is Chrotechild--and her four children are
named Chlotachaire, Theudeber--"
"Enough! Friend peddler! A truce of those savage names! Those who wear
them are worthy of them."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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