Maugis, ye sorcerer from ye ancient French : a wonderful tale from ye writings of ye mad savant of ye Maison Maugis in ye olde citie of Mouzon, France
and ever ready abbé, seizing this moment as a favorable opportunity,
leaned forward and whispered in the ear of the hesitating king: “Sire,
this is truly a matter too important to decide with undue haste.
Sleep upon its consideration until the morrow, that a proper issue of
this most unhappy matter may be conceived.” This suggestion for delay
did not meet with the approval of many of the knights present, who,
admiring the bravery of the sons of Aymon, were unfavorable to any
hesitancy in according them just treatment.
They signalized their disfavor by loud murmurs, but King Yon weakly
gave way to the perfidious counsel for delay. Saying with a show of
decision: “We will allow the subject to rest until the morrow,” and
thereupon arose from his throne terminating the sitting.
The old knight, who had been so outspoken in favor of the brothers,
smote the hilt of his sword with anger until it rang. This was the
signal for a chorus of dissent from the assembled soldiers, which
ominous sound greeted the ears of the departing monarch without avail
though the test of his will was to be strained to very near to the
breaking; he was about to commit an act utterly at variance with the
nobility of character he had heretofore shown; and in the moral ruin
not only were those whom he loved about to be involved, but he himself
was to perish in the disaster.
The delay the perplexed monarch granted gave the Abbé Gorieux, Godefroy
and other malcontents of the court an opportunity they were not slow
to avail themselves of. That night a secret conference was held in the
private library of the king, at which the abbé was the spokesman. Said
he:
“Your majesty, the hesitancy you show in deciding this matter does
credit to your noble impulses; it is without doubt true that these
young men have rendered you great service, they came boldly and
skillfully to your rescue, when you were in need of succor, and you
have the right to be grateful to them; but, sire, you owe a duty
to your people and to your country far paramount to all personal
considerations. In your gratitude you have rewarded these knights in
a princely manner, you have generously fulfilled your obligations
to them, but in so doing you have caused a danger to threaten your
kingdom, your people, and your royal person, which there is but one way
to avert. Where now lies your duty? Is it in the suicidal policy of
resistance against the overmastering strength of Charlemagne? in which
there is nothing but certain ruin to all concerned; the overthrow of
your kingdom, pillage, flames and death for your unfortunate subjects.
Then, sire, how can you hesitate? Resist, and all these misfortunes
come upon you and your people; accede to Charlemagne’s demand and you
sacrifice the few to save the many.”
“How can I do this?” questioned the hesitating monarch; “you forget my
oath.”
“I do not forget thine oath, sire,” sternly continued the abbé; “I
can assure thee, in virtue of my holy office, that God will hold thee
absolved from an oath that will cost such dire misfortune to thy
country. Thy oath to thy people and thy kingly duty hath by far the
greater demand upon thee.”
The poor king bowed his head in the deepest dejection, the act he
was asked to commit revolted him, and there was going on within him
a bitter struggle between his self-interest and his duty to the sons
D’Aymon; then, too, he thought of the suffering of his sister. For a
moment the better nature was in the ascendancy. The wily abbé studied
his face and read there the struggle going on within; too crafty to
descend to lying, it only remained for the base Godefroy to complete
the work. Said he:
“In good sooth, sire; thou wouldst not hold thy oath to this sorcerer
and his brothers so heavy a burden on thy conscience didst thou but
know that they now conspire to rob thee of thy throne. This, I can
assure thee, I have from one who is in their counsel.”
“Art sure?” queried the king, arousing.
“I can prove this beyond a doubt,” replied the lying Godefroy.
“Enough!” cried King Yon, “let it be so, I will contend against thee no
longer.”
Then it was, the dishonored king, at the dead of night, conspired with
the enemies of Maugis to deliver him into the hands of Charlemagne,
which being complete, the king retired, at last easy in mind over the
prospect that he would be allowed undisturbed possession of his kingdom.
CHAPTER XI.
On the next day King Yon went to Montaubon, and said to Maugis:
“At last, dear brother, am I able to apprise thee that it will be
possible for thee and thy brothers to conclude peace with Charlemagne.
This has come about through my good offices, and I have come to
felicitate thee that thy struggles are over.”
Yon then made up a tissue of lies, cunningly devised for him by the
abbé, giving color to the statement that he came to Maugis in behalf
of the emperor to offer to the brothers D’Aymon terms of peace. He
stipulated they should go the next day, all four, armed only with their
swords, to meet Charlemagne on the plain of Vancoleurs.
“I will give you,” said the hypocritical king, “a few knights of my
court to accompany you. To show your humility you will go mounted upon
mules, and you will carry in your hands branches of roses and olives
as a sign of reconciliation. The emperor will await you there with the
Duke de Naimes, Oger, and twelve peers. You will throw yourselves on
your knees at his feet and he will then pardon you and allow you to
retain full possession of all your rights.”
At this happy news the face of Maugis lighted with joy, but it was
soon clouded with doubt; although he feared no treachery from his
brother-in-law, he had no confidence in Charlemagne.
“’Tis indeed good news,” said he, “that thou dost bring me, good
brother, but canst thou assure me there is no treachery behind all
these fair promises?”
“Do not fail to heed me, but go,” replied the base king. “Thou knowest
well, brother, that I have thy interests truly at heart, and would not
advise thee did I not know that it will be absolutely safe for thee to
go. It were madness for thee now to scorn this chance to make thy peace
with the emperor; it is thy last chance, avail thyself of it without
fail.”
A little later, after the departure of King Yon, Maugis summoned
his brothers in council, and acquainted them with the offers of the
emperor. They were each and all seized with the same dire presentiments.
“If the King Yon tells the truth,” cried Alard, “that Charlemagne will
really accord us his friendship, why does he exact we shall appear as
if dishonored, why are we to go without arms to the middle of a plain,
where if attacked we could all be easily killed without being able
to resist. I distrust, brother, I distrust much that we are to be
betrayed.”
“It is impossible!” declared Maugis, “that there can be any treason
in an affair in which my brother-in-law, King Yon, is acting as a
negotiator. He is above all baseness, and besides, you all know he made
oath to us that we could count upon his loyalty.”
The council then broke up, the brothers by no means sharing the
confidence of Maugis in the outcome, yet, deferring to his opinion,
they hurried away to make preparations for the next day.
Maugis hastened to his own apartments, where he informed Yolande of his
contemplated expedition the following day. She paled upon hearing of
it, not being able to resist a feeling of fear that was insurmountable.
“Go not, my husband, I beseech thee,” she cried.
“There can be no danger,” explained Maugis; “thy brother Yon, he is
incapable of deception, and it is he who is acting as intermediary
between the emperor and us; surely I can rely upon his advice and
assurances.”
“I care not, I care not,” responded Yolande. “Yon would not deceive
you, perhaps, more quickly than another; but you must remember he is
only human, and, like the rest of the world, would sacrifice any one
else for his own interest. Mistrust then, Maugis, as I mistrust; if you
go to the meeting, I feel you are all lost.”
“Dear one, thy fears are but phantoms,” tenderly replied Maugis,
unconvinced and trying to reassure her.
“No! no!” responded Yolande; “my fears are real, why should you go like
the vanquished without arms? Is that your place? no! go with arms in
hand, if you must go, followed by your faithful knights, and meet them
as equals, then I shall fear nothing.”
Against all this advice, the next day Maugis set out with his four
brothers, followed by the ten lords of King Yon, to meet the Emperor
Charlemagne. By this time King Yon, who had never before lost his
honor, was half-tempted to regret the villainous action he was about
to commit, but the abbé and Godefroy, ever at his side, confirmed his
purpose by representing to him the enormous benefits to him of the
action, and his heart was hardened and he remained silent.
At the head of the little troop, marching slowly onward, Maugis was
confronted by a presentiment which caused him to fear there might
be reason in the doubts expressed by his brothers and his wife. He,
however, by an effort of will cast it aside, they, meanwhile, having
arrived at the plain of Vancouleurs. It was a forbidding spot, being
surrounded by dense forests, and had no possible issue for them in case
of flight; besides, the river Gironde, which traversed it, four roads
led from it; the road to France, the road to Portugal, the road to
Spain, and road to the kingdom of Acquitaine; but these roads were now
all guarded by ambuscades of five hundred men belonging to Charlemagne.
Surprised at not finding any one on the plain, Maugis and his little
company proceeded across it and placed themselves at the foot of a
steep rock, which was pierced by a narrow opening. Alard had by this
time persuaded Maugis that they were betrayed, and that they were wise
if they immediately retraced their steps; when, however, they attempted
to do this, they suddenly encountered Foulques de Morillon at the head
of three hundred men.
“We are betrayed!” shouted Maugis, then turning quickly to the knights
of his escort, he cried: “Ah, gentlemen, you whom King Yon has sent to
accompany us, you will give us your aid now?”
Then Godefroy, who was of the escort and who had hated Maugis from the
time of his arrival at the court of Yon, responded, saying:
“Not we, we have been forced to accompany you against our will and
neither myself nor any of these other lords are willing to give thee
any assistance.” These half-defiant and half-sneering words had hardly
died upon his lips when Maugis, seeing at last the trap into which they
had been lured, turned upon him and with incredible quickness, with one
stroke of his sword, cleft his head to the chin. The other knights
then fled for safety and joined the side of the enemy.
“Come on, dear friends!” cried Maugis, “until we are taken we will
defend ourselves like men of heart; we will fight here back to back,
and will never submit to be taken alive.”
All four brothers embraced as if for a final adieu, and rolling their
cloaks around their left arms to parry the blows, they grimly awaited
the enemy, firm of foot and sword in hand.
Struck by their courage and coolness, Foulques de Morillon cried out to
them:
“Yield thee; resistance is useless, King Yon hath given thee up, thou
art surrounded on every hand, therefore surrender, for assistance is
impossible.”
“Sayest thou so,” said Maugis defiantly in reply; “thy further lies are
useless, except to insult brave knights after having betrayed them;
liar and coward, defend thyself; I challenge thee to single combat.”
Foulques made no reply to this, but charged upon Maugis, lance at rest,
and wounded him in the thigh. At this unexpected charge Maugis and