Maugis, Ye Sorcerer 14 – Gilhooley · Verses Across
Literature · Science Fiction & Fantasy
Maugis, Ye Sorcerer 14Chapter 14
18
Literature · Science Fiction & Fantasy
Maugis, Ye Sorcerer 14
Chapter 14
GilhooleyEnglish
When the next day had come, Roland early sought the emperor to take leave of him. He was armed and ready to depart, but before quitting he besought Charlemagne to have the grace to accord to Maugis and the four sons of Aymon the peace they had so long asked for, no matter what the issue of the coming combat might be, but Charlemagne, though depressed by sad reflections and by the thought of the evil consequences that had come from the bad advice he had received, made no reply.
A little later, when Maugis arrived on the field, he found Roland already there. It was a superb day; the renown of the two knights, their bravery, and their skill with arms, made the outcome of the duel uncertain. A vast concourse of knights had assembled to witness the contest, and a deep hush of expectancy fell upon all when the two knights advanced toward each other on the field to begin the duel.
“I am now here,” said Roland, addressing Maugis, “to lay you in the dust; you have thought yourself invincible long enough; but to-day you will find that I am your master.”
“Be moderate, Roland,” replied Maugis; “one is never sure, even the bravest knight may be overcome by one weaker than himself.”
“I will maintain my word, I think, Maugis,” shouted Roland; “defend yourself, for your last hour is come.”
At these words they charged each other, lance at rest, with great fury. At the very first shock the lances were shattered, and their shields were broken. Roland wavered in his saddle, and with difficulty maintained himself erect, while Maugis, unhorsed, fell twenty steps behind Bayard; but he was on his feet like a flash, and he mounted his horse with incredible agility, and sweeping down upon Roland, gave him a terrible blow with his sword, which, landing on his helmet, completely stunned him. Maugis, however, withdrew, giving him time to recover, and then they rushed anew at each other. Now ensued a battle of giants, which no words can adequately describe; the spectators were appalled by its ferocity; the dreadful blows they dealt each other were slowly denuding them of their armor piece by piece; sparks flew like lightning from the terrible flashing of their swords; but furious as the combat was, so skillful were they each, that neither one could deal the other a fatal blow. It was a magnificent contest, evoking cries of admiration from all sides; there could be but one end to their terrible exertion; becoming fatigued, they seized each other body to body and tried to throw each the other from his horse. It was impossible; breathless and almost helpless with fatigue, mutually astonished that neither could conquer the other, they waited a few moments to regain breath, each so battered as to be almost unrecognizable, they having left only fragments of their arms and but a few pieces of their clothing.
The onlookers to this heroic duel felt they would like to have the fight ended then and there, and were so evenly divided by admiration for each of the combatants that they could not say whom they would have the victor. The emperor himself, all his sympathies aroused, felt that he would even give his crown to have the fight ended here, and was about to shout an order to have the duel stopped as the two combatants approached each other to recommence the battle.
Before he could utter a sound, however, an astonishing sight greeted his eyes. Instead of beginning hostilities as they neared each other, the two knights, as if with one common impulse and actuated by the same sentiment, let their arms fall and then and there embraced each other. Maugis said to Roland:
“Brave cousin! you have shown the greatest courage; neither one of us can conquer the other; we each seem to have the same strength, the same skill, and the same courage. God never made us to be enemies, but to be friends; let it be so. Come to Montaubon and be my guest; you will receive there all the consideration, honor and respect that are due you.”
The spectators had lost nothing of this scene; a great demonstration of applause ensued, and cheer after cheer rent the air when the two knights were seen to embrace. Two men only did not participate in the public joy; they were Pinabel, the scheming nephew of Charlemagne, and Ganelon, his traitorous associate.
“What means this?” said the astonished emperor.
“Simply this,” replied Pinabel: “by some vile sorcery Maugis hath ensnared Roland and is bearing him to Montaubon.”
“By St. Gris!” roared the emperor, furious. “I will never brook such insult, on to Montaubon! on to Montaubon!” he shouted to his knights. “I will take Roland by force from the hands of this rebel Maugis.” But the confusion in which the spectators and knights were mingled made it impossible to execute immediately any hostile movement of this kind, and Charlemagne, fuming and almost blind with rage, was forced to see Roland depart with Maugis, and he returned to his camp with the determination to draw a cordon around the walls of Montaubon and commence an immediate siege.
Meanwhile, Maugis, accompanied by Roland, and escorted by his brothers, had quietly entered the citadel, where Roland was received with all honors, and was greeted on all hands as the first knight of the world.
It was a singular situation the enraged Charlemagne had to meet; continually stirred with rage by the evil advisers who had his ear on one hand, and on the other hand urged by the influential men of his court, who, lost in admiration of the brave struggle of the four sons of Aymon, regarded an honorable peace to them to be the proper course for the emperor to pursue. The next day, a delegation of knights waited upon him and stated that it was the general demand that such should be granted; they so appealed to the good sense of Charlemagne that he would have undoubtedly, then and there, yielded and acquiesced to the general demand.
Never had the position of the conspirators who had heretofore been successful in preventing the good understanding between Charlemagne and the four sons of Aymon been so perilous. The Abbé Gorieux, Ganelon and Pinabel held a hasty consultation.
“Now what shall be done,” said Ganelon, biting his lips.
“It is hopeless! I cannot see that anything can be done,” said Pinabel, grinding his teeth and clinching his hands, for he had a consuming hatred of Maugis, that one of his vile character could only have of a nature more noble. Within him hate had fed upon hate, until his one thought was how to wreak vengeance upon its object.
“Delay, my friend; our hope is in delay,” the smooth voice of the crafty abbé interposed. “Do thou now, Pinabel, influence the emperor to postpone his decision in this matter; it will give us chance to work our ends; indeed, it is our only hope,” he added despairingly.
Pinabel at once hurried to the emperor, saying:
“Sire, grant this peace, which is no doubt the proper course to pursue, for such a great war is surely impious,” he added hypocritically; “therefore, it indeed were well to grant the peace we all desire, only decide not hastily; take all means to assure thyself that this course will be appreciated by the rebellious sons of Aymon, that they will faithfully fulfill all conditions you may impose, and properly carry out the penances it is right they should suffer; what these conditions should be, what penances proper, it would be foolish to hastily decide; let us therefore use deliberation, that the realization of all our hopes, the peace that is so dear to us all, may be secured upon a firm and unchangeable basis.”
This apparently candid, disinterested advice deceived the emperor, and he put off making a decision that day. Then the old scheme, which had succeeded so often before, was brought into use. The emperor, however, was not so easily worked upon as he had formerly been; he, himself, had become tired with the war and strife, and although excessively enraged by his inability to conquer the redoubtable knights D’Aymon, and by their continued humiliation of him, he was too wise a monarch not to see the advantage of an honorable peace. Consequently the task of the conspirators was no light one.
All day long one or another of the conspirators sought him, each dropping some poisoned suggestion in his ear, calculated to arouse his anger and cast doubt upon the honorable intentions of Maugis and his brothers. There was not wanting insinuations that Maugis was a minion of Satan, and that the very existence of so powerful a sorcerer was not only a threat to the life and well-being of the emperor, but to the very kingdom itself.
“He should be promptly and utterly destroyed,” declared Ganelon.
“Sire,” added Pinabel persuasively, “admitting the truth, is, that these fears are due to our personal devotion to you, which lead us to suggest them, and supposing even that our anticipations are due to an ardent zeal, surely the pardon you propose to grant the sons of Aymon would establish a bad precedent. Who knows?”
“They have not feared to be false to their oath to their prince; they have revolted and openly made war on you; can any one sustain the example of the sons of Aymon? Each one invites your pardon only to serve his own ends. You will, of course, sire, do what seemeth best in your great wisdom; but even if thou dost pardon the four sons of Aymon, one of them should be given up to thee for punishment.”
If Charlemagne, thus persuaded by the conspirators, had discussed this advice in the presence of all, there can be no doubt the result of these negotiations for peace would have been far different from that which followed.
The next day the emperor, when everybody was assembled, the peers and all the courtiers and the four brothers, declared to the sons of Aymon that he had decided to pardon them.
“I have one proviso,” said the emperor firmly, “that is, after thou hast fulfilled thy promises, thou shall deliver thy Cousin Renaud into my hands to be punished as an example. This is my final decision, and nought shall change it.”
“Ah, well, sire,” cried Maugis sadly; “if this is all that thou wilt yield there can be no more said. I regret only that our humble prayers for thy pardon have not prevailed. We never would deliver Renaud to you, because our honor is opposed to it, and because there never was yet an Aymon who would purchase peace at the price of infamy and cowardice.”
Maugis and his brothers, then saluting the emperor with the most profound respect, withdrew.
Charlemagne, now giving himself up entirely to his vindictive feelings, his rage for vengeance now paramount, summoned his council of state and outlined the course he had decided to follow; he ordered preparations to be made immediately for a general assault. The troops were to be assembled completely armed, under the walls of Montaubon, and the machines of war for hurling stones, catapaults and battering rams, were to be at once transported thither.
Maugis, on his part, knowing what was coming, was not inactive; he placed his soldiers behind the ramparts to the best advantage to resist attack.
The next day at sunrise the assault occurred, made with great vigor. Maugis allowed them to approach, place their scaling ladders, and even to commence to mount them, then at a given signal they by united effort created great havoc and carnage among them by pouring upon them boiling oil, and by burying them beneath a quantity of enormous stones; still the enemy persisted and the assault continued fiercely; but such was the awful slaughter of his troops, that at the end of an hour, the emperor, dismayed by his losses, ordered a retreat and re-entered the camp, followed by his depleted legions. He had suffered not only defeat, but disaster.
This experience taught the emperor that Montaubon could never be taken by assault, and he thereupon determined to blockade the château so vigorously, and by famine reducing its inhabitants to the last extremity, force them to capitulate. In fact, hunger had already commenced to worry them, and only a short time after this siege began the awful specter of starvation stared them in the face, and soon thereafter, men, women, and children were lying around exhausted with hunger, and striving to prolong their existence by eating the buds and roots of the trees.
Famine, with all its horrors, was upon them, but still the impenetrable cordon remained encircling them, and the conspirators heard with vindictive glee of the terrible straits of the inhabitants of the castle.
The situation of the people behind the ramparts of Montaubon was truly desperate. They were forced to devour all kinds of living animals and even insects, and at a point where everything seemed exhausted, to add to the horror, a pest followed, which threatened to decimate completely the miserable population.
Some appealed to Maugis once more to exercise his magic power to deliver them, but he firmly refused, saying:
“I have already incurred the wrath of God by such efforts; not only did I violate solemn oaths that I made, by practices condemned by the wise and the good, but instead of relief, it brought only new misfortunes. I will have no more of it; rather than that I would prefer death, but I will never yield.”
The majority of his captains supported Maugis in his determination not to surrender. They were undismayed by the horrors surrounding them. Said Maugis:
“If I were the only victim demanded by the emperor, to save you I would gladly surrender; but you know that if we yield we shall all be put to the sword. We have no quarter to expect from Charlemagne; we must continue to resist.”
These words encouraged his men and caused them to be resigned to further suffering.
The awful suffering and carnage occurring within the château of Montaubon moved the hearts of all of Charlemagne’s court. All the lords, with the aged Duke d’Aymon at their head, went to demand grace for the besieged from Charlemagne, but he peremptorily refused, and when they supplicated him he answered by ordering an assault.
Thus to the horrors of siege and famine was added the horrors of war. Great masses of rock, hurled into the château by the catapaults and besieging machines, crushed out the lives of many of its inhabitants.
In the midst of these adversities Maugis was ever sustained by his noble wife, who always preserved her serenity and courage.
Richard, who realized that each day rendered their power of resistance less possible, urged that they surrender.
“No,” replied Maugis, “let us continue to resist. Something within me tells me that we yet shall be saved.”
Charlemagne, now seeing the weakened condition of his enemy, resolved to end it all by a single blow. Taking some of his choicest troops, a determined assault was made upon the fortress, but once more he met defeat. The feeble garrison, gathering all the force that remained in them, repulsed the besiegers victoriously; and hurled them into the castle moat.
Meantime the situation had become so desperate that Maugis, usually so resigned and patient, even commenced to despair; but he would not think of surrendering, death rather than that, and he made the resolve to retreat to the citadel of the fortress with his brothers and those belonging to him; then set it on fire and perish in the flames, first giving the inhabitants their liberty to surrender, or do otherwise, as it might seem best to them.
“Loved one,” said Yolande, “what thou deemest best is best. I have followed thee in life. I will follow thee in death, for life without thee would be death; and here, embracing her two sons, her mother’s heart nearly succumbed; that they should perish was indeed a cruel blow, but choking back her tears she said, in firm tones:
“Let it be so!”
The three brothers of Maugis, and Renaud likewise, agreed that to perish was the only thing left for them.
At this juncture an aged man was ushered to their presence. Said he:
“Most noble lord! many years ago, ’tis said, there stood a fortress upon this mountain, even where Montaubon now stands, and methinks I have heard my father’s father tell how in the old days there did a subterranean passage exist which led from hither and opened into the forest of the Serpante yonder, beyond the lines of Charlemagne. Find this and we are saved.”
“Knowest thou where the opening is?” demanded Maugis.
“Alas!” responded the old man sadly, “I know not; it be only one of the forgotten memories of the tales of my youth, renewed in my mind by much suffering.”
At these words the hopes that were raised in the hearts of all who heard were dashed to the earth.
“Did such a passage exist, where could it be found?” It was more than probable that, choked by débris, it had been built over by the solid walls of the new château, and even if it had ever existed was now thoroughly hidden.
“Use thine occult powers!” whispered Yolande.
Then Maugis and the little company proceeded to make a thorough exploration of the castle, visiting in succession all of its towers and subterranean parts.
In every underground passage and room Maugis would pause, and standing erect, with arm outstretched, slowly sweep a circle about him, when it was complete only to drop his hand and bow his head, saying:
“I find nothing.”
Hope seemed to have left them, there was only one more place to visit, one of the towers at the northeast part of the ramparts, known as “Tour de la Bellevue.” Here, in its subterranean depths, the little company assembled for the last trial, pausing breathless with expectancy, while Maugis closed his eyes and slowly made the mystic circle around the torch-lighted room. When half-complete, he paused and a look of hope stole over his face; once more he swept the circle and again paused at the same point; a third time did he repeat this motion, then opening his eyes, with joy lighting his face, he said:
“It is here.”
Tools were hurriedly brought, digging commenced, and at the end of an hour the passage opening stood revealed. Richard went forward to explore it, while the rest hastened upward to make preparations there for immediate departure. Nearly overcome with joy, to think not only would they succeed in escaping from Charlemagne, but in mystifying him as well.
In the meantime, Richard having returned with the joyful news that the passage was all clear, Maugis summoned his people, and distributed torches among them, and giving the stronger the more precious objects to carry, started them under the leadership of Richard on their journey though the passage.
Maugis hastened to his tower, where in the hurry and excitement of his departure, Yon, his brother-in-law, was lying forgotten, confined to his bed by a sickness which had affected him ever since his treason.
Maugis was about to lift him in his arms to bear him away, when Alard said:
“Let him lie. He is the cause of all our misfortunes.”
“He is culpable, that is true,” replied Maugis, “but he is miserable, and that is claim enough upon us not to abandon him;” and with these words he took the suffering king and bore him away among the others.
At sunset they had made the passage of the tunnel safely and came out into the forest. A little later they entered another forest called “D’Arsene,” under the leadership of the old man, who conducted them to the abiding place of an old hermit, whose store of food illy sufficed for the wants of the famished people, and who, exhausted, here stopped all further progress and ate whatever they could find. The soldiers threw themselves upon the surrounding foliage and devoured it. By great good fortune they then encountered some shepherds with their flocks, and Maugis having bought sheep to feed the famished people, and having fully satisfied their voracious hunger, they rested during the whole of the succeeding day and the day following.
Maugis, with an escort, then rode on in advance to the city of Dordogne, where, when they learned of his arrival, the inhabitants came out to meet him, with cheers and cries of joy. The enthusiasm soon penetrated throughout the city and its environs, and that day, at least, everybody was rejoicing. The next day Maugis received the oaths of fealty of the lords from all the surrounding country.
For eight days nobody had appeared on the ramparts of Montaubon, visible to the camp of Charlemagne. The emperor decided that everyone must have succumbed, that the fortress could be entered without danger, and when a short time afterward Roland, Olivier, and the Duke de Naimes rode in, having battered down the great gate, they were greeted everywhere with silence. Everywhere in the city and the fortress decaying bodies were lying about, unburied, emitting the most pestilential odors, which finally became so great they were forced to retreat. In vain they searched for Maugis and his brothers. It was impossible to find them.
Maugis was very soon apprised that Charlemagne had occupied Montaubon and was sorely tempted to besiege him in retaliation and submit him to the same tortures he had suffered. But in this he was deterred by the conscientious Yolande, who said:
“While thine oath of fealty might permit thee to defend thyself, if attacked by him, it will surely be a violation of it if thou dost attack him.”
Meanwhile, the principal lords of the court could not conceal their joy at the escape of the sons of Aymon, and later, when the scouts sent in all directions to discover their whereabouts reported to the emperor that they had retired to Dordogne, where they had raised a formidable army, the emperor at once gave orders to raise the camp.
He directed the march of his army to Montorgueil, a few leagues from Dordogne, persisting in his vindictiveness in attacking the sons of Aymon anew.
Learning of this movement, Maugis would not this time suffer himself to be besieged the way he was at Montaubon. He mounted his horse and set out to meet the enemy, having first said to his soldiers in a proclamation that personally he would not enter a fight against Charlemagne, but for the fact he desired to give them an opportunity to avenge those dear ones they had lost.
Arriving at a short distance from the imperial army, Maugis stopped and sent forward his esquire, bearing a piece of olive branch to demand peace of the emperor.
This envoy was badly received by the emperor, who greeted him with harsh words and insults, and gave orders to commence the attack.
Maugis, then feeling he had exhausted every resource, made a fierce charge upon the first knights, who had come forward to obey the order of Charlemagne, hurling them lifeless at the feet of the emperor. Then retiring he headed his soldiers, and uttering the war-cry of Dordogne, made an irresistible charge on the troops of Charlemagne, who wavered and broke and were thrown into confusion. The Duke de Naimes, seeing this, seized the golden banner, and placing himself at the head of the royal army, tried to rally them; but it was hopeless, they were fast disappearing under the fierce assaults of the soldiers of Maugis. They had nearly succeeded in surrounding the emperor, who was only saved by the quickness of Roland, when the signal for retreat was given.
This signal everyone obeyed, except the brave Richard de Normandie, who, oblivious to all else, could not endure the thought of defeat, and tried to cut off the troops of Maugis just before the gates of Dordogne, an attempt in which he did not succeed.
Profiting by the ardor of the duke, Maugis hurried the retreat of his troops, causing them to rush pellmell into the city, tempting Richard, obstinate in his pursuit, to follow, thinking his enemies to be demoralized. This strategic move was successful. Getting Richard once inside of the gates, Maugis caused them to be closed and guarded behind them, making him a prisoner, and seeing that resistance was useless, Richard de Normandie and his men were forced to surrender.
The loss of this new battle added more to the grief and rage of Charlemagne and stimulated him still further in his relentless pursuit of the sons of Aymon.
As both sides required some little time to recuperate from the battle, several days passed without an engagement. It was during this period of quiet that King Yon died, in great suffering. Consumed with regrets, he begged Maugis and his brothers to forgive him for all the evil they had endured through his fault. He confirmed to Maugis the donations of Montaubon and its dependencies, and drew his last breath in the arms of his brother-in-law, who mourned him as sincerely as if he had never been guilty of a vile treachery.
After the obsequies, in which the entire army took part, Maugis proceeded actively to strengthen the defenses of the city in case of an attack from the waiting enemy. It was during this period of the cessation of hostilities that an extraordinary incident occurred. Maugis was an adept at assuming disguises, and one day he determined to visit the camp of Charlemagne; perfectly fearless as to the possible result of his perilous mission, he set out, having taken the shape of an old knight, infirm and miserable, and entered the camp of the emperor, leaning heavily on his staff. So sorry was his aspect that the sentinels made fun of him.
“Ho! ho!” shouted one of them after him. “Hast thou come to take the city?”
This jibe was greeted with roars of laughter. Passing onward quietly, the old knight made no reply. As he proceeded, Pinabel, seated in front of his tent, laughed at him and sneeringly inquired:
“Ho! brave knight, hast thou come to fight Roland?”
Maugis, nettled by the insolence of the knight, replied:
“Roland has done nothing to me, therefore I have no reason to fight him, but if you will try it with me, I will punish you for your insult and your cowardice, for all the world knows you are bravest only when you are dealing with some one whom you think is incapable of defending himself. Only for that, you never would have dared to insult me and my white hairs.”
Pinabel, furious, seized a picket and would have struck the old knight, when Oger, who arrived on the scene, separated them.
“He insulted me,” said the supposed old man.
“He had the audacity to doubt my courage,” cried Pinabel.
“Thou art wrong, Pinabel,” responded Oger, “and this man may demand of you any reparation he may require.”
“I know of no other reparation than to fight me,” answered Maugis, “or else I will publish him to all the world as a coward.”
By this time a crowd of soldiers and knights had gathered around the contending parties, and the noise of the altercation had reached the ears of Charlemagne, who caused them to be summoned before him.
“Who art thou?” demanded he of Maugis.
“Sire,” replied he. “I am Sieur de la Perron of Château Raucourt, who having been to the holy land, where I did battle with the Saracens, do now wend my weary way homeward, that I may pass my remaining days in peace. The knight here present has insulted me,” he continued, “without cause, and when I gave him the provocation in return, he, instead of accepting battle, threw himself upon me with a stick, and but for the timely appearance of this noble lord,” indicating Oger, “I should have been struck by the scoundrel.”
“Pinabel is undoubtedly wrong,” said Charlemagne. “But if you persist in fighting how will you defend yourself? He is young and vigorous, and you are on the borders of the grave.”
“It is true, sire, I am paralyzed on my right side, but I can rely upon my left arm. Do you think I shall allow that to stand in the way if my adversary is willing to fight?”
This strange statement put Pinabel in a very false position; to accept was an act of cowardice, and to refuse would make him a laughing stock. He was at a loss what to do.
The old knight grew impatient, and insisted the fight take place, approaching and menacing Pinabel with his cudgel, and seeing this, Charlemagne was forced to order the combat.
Pinabel, now exasperated, drew his sword and rushed at the defenseless old knight, but he stepped aside with great dexterity, avoiding the shock, and then turned with incredible quickness and gave his adversary such a heavy blow on the wrist with his staff that he dropped his sword. A second blow in the stomach sent him tumbling to the feet of Charlemagne. Then placing his foot on Pinabel’s throat, the old knight menaced him with his staff, held aloft in his left hand. The now thoroughly frightened Pinabel, trembling for his life, implored the grace of his conqueror, who permitted him to arise while he regarded him with contempt.
The emperor and all the knights greatly marveled. Maugis was then permitted to visit the camp, of which privilege he was not slow to avail himself, making a thorough inspection throughout.
In passing again the tent of Pinabel, upon leaving, reassured by the fact that his disguise had not been penetrated thus far, he determined to play him a trick. It can be readily conceived that Pinabel was not charmed by his visit, and he forthwith ordered his esquires to seize the old man and bind him solidly. But when they attempted to do so Maugis hypnotized them, and so benumbed them they appeared to be almost asleep, and when he approached Pinabel, the coward was so appalled at the manifestations of a power so little known at that remote age, and doubly terrified at being alone with the old knight, that he fell to his knees and supplicated him for pardon.
“I will spare thy life,” said the old knight in a terrible voice. “It hath no value in my eyes; heaven hath condemned thee.”
Pinabel at these words raised his eyes, and there recognized that Maugis, the terrible warrior sorcerer, stood before him. The coward would have cried out, but his tongue was paralyzed and the sounds died upon his lips, his limbs seemed stricken, and with a look of anguish on his face he fell in a heap.
Maugis, much pleased to have given the coward this fright, left the camp and arrived safely at the city of Dordogne.
