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
failed, and he only hesitated when told that he should remain and watch
over his children until they had passed the tender age.
It was about this time that the sons of Aymon were apprised of the
death of their aged father. The brothers desired Maugis to partition
the property equally among them, but he nobly abandoned all to them,
not even reserving Montaubon. Then for a long time he devoted his days
to the education of his sons. He instructed them himself in all the
forms and exercises of knighthood, placing continually before them a
noble example to follow. He saw with pleasure that one day his children
would fulfill all his hopes in force, in courage, and in honor.
When this noble father felt certain his sons would equal him he took
them apart one day and said to them:
“You are no longer children. The time has come when you should be
occupied with serious things. Your rank and your duty compels you to
consecrate yourselves to your country. Go now to the court, find the
Emperor Charlemagne, and pray him to accept you as his knights.”
CHAPTER XVIII.
When the sons of Maugis quitted their father the young men took the
road for the court, where they duly arrived, and demanded to be
presented to the emperor, as was usual at that period, for aspirants to
the order of knighthood. The lord in waiting, who did not know them,
was struck with their grace and air of nobility, and when they were
ushered into the audience-chamber, where Charlemagne was seated on his
throne among all his courtiers, the two young men fell on their knees,
and kissed with emotion the hand he extended to them.
“Who are you, my children?” said the emperor to them in a kind voice,
“and why is it you show so much affection for me?”
“Sire!” replied young Aymon, “we wish to be made knights for your sole
service, and for your service only. We are deeply indebted to you for
kindness in our youth, and if you will confer upon us the honor, we
would, my brother and myself, consecrate to you our entire life.”
“But who art thou?” asked the emperor, who did not recognize them.
“No lord has conducted you to the palace. No peer has presented you.
Nobody seems to know you.”
“Sire!” replied Aymon, “we are the sons of a knight whom you have
honored with your esteem and for whom you have never hidden your
admiration, even when you were enraged with him. Our father had the
misfortune to incur your displeasure for not being willing to submit,
when his honor opposed, and you forced him to defend himself against
you and against the deceitful counsels of perfidious and jealous
courtiers. Ah, sire, in spite of all these trials you placed upon him,
our father never ceased to love you and to bless you. He has also
taught us to venerate and cherish you. Our father is the brave Maugis,
who during three years passed his time in exile to repair the wrongs
he incurred by activity and courage so astonishing as to give his name
universal renown.”
At these words the emperor arose, descended from his throne and
embraced the two handsome young men, who had come to place their young
lives under his high protecting care. Said he:
“Your father is one of the noblest and most honorable knights I ever
knew. Strive, both of you, to equal him. I could not offer a better
wish for your welfare.”
The emperor then took pride in presenting the young men to the court.
The etiquette compelled by ceremony being cast aside, the emperor
inquired with great solicitude concerning their father.
“Our father,” replied Yon, “is now old and infirm, and bodily exercise
has become too fatiguing for him. Now, instead of following campaigns,
he lives amid his vassals, to whom he renders justice, gives counsel,
and encourages in their labor; in a word, sire, with him rank is but a
distinction. It is as nothing before intelligence, even if those who
possess it are inferior in position. Unfortunately, our father is very
feeble, and we have feared that he is breaking down.”
“A man like your father should live always,” cried Charlemagne.
“Seigneurs!” continued he, turning to his courtiers, “these sons of
Maugis are my sons; you will so consider them.” Then addressing the
young men, he promised that he would himself arm them as knights; also
would give them additional lands, and as a token of love for their
father and themselves, he accorded benefits to the one hundred other
young men who constituted their suite.
Maugis, after the departure of his sons, employed himself in putting
his affairs in order. He bequeathed Dordogne to Yon, his younger son,
and to Aymon, the eldest, he left Montaubon. Then having assembled his
brothers, he said to them:
“I have suffered many trials in the course of my existence. I have
always been first in advancing our general interests. I will to-day
make my farewell. I have vowed to consecrate to God the few years that
remain to me, and to expiate for my sins by passing my remaining days
in an absolute retreat far from the world.”
His brothers tried to dissuade him, but it was useless. That same day
Maugis took his staff and stole away, making his escape undiscovered
from Montaubon, by means of the same subterranean passage he had used
to escape the wrath of Charlemagne when Montaubon was besieged.
Alone, by himself, with no more cares of state, disembarrassed of the
burden of his renown, Maugis plodded through the country northward,
nourishing himself with herbs and roots and drinking the pure water
from the springs he passed on his way, finding life more pleasant
a hundred times than in the midst of his court. His footsteps were
directed toward the ancient city of Mouzon, in the Ardennes, where he
intended to abide for a time in the old house where he had spent some
of his boyhood days under the tutorship of that wise man of the East,
that learned pundit whom his father had rescued from death in the wars
of the Saracens, and from whom Maugis had drawn the occult powers he
had used when driven to the last resource by the emperor. He hoped here
to rest awhile in the society of the good monks of the great Abbey. He
would search for his cousin Renaud, who, likewise, had retired from
the world, to end his days in solitary meditation and prayer.
Maugis spent two years in Mouzon, in the ancient house that had been
his boyhood home. He made diligent inquiry for his cousin Renaud, but
neither the monks nor any one else could tell him anything, except
that some time agone he had been seen passing through the city by the
old Roman road, which led into and through the vast forests of the
Ardennes. So one day Maugis once more took up his staff, and deserting
his home in the ancient city, he too walked far out on the old Roman
road until the forests swallowed him up.
As he made his weary way through the vast solitudes, one day he
approached a hermitage; a strange hope animated him. Had God directed
his steps to the resting place of his cousin Renaud? He searched about
thoroughly, and at last discovered his cousin some distance away in
a solitary place, lying on the moss and absorbed in a book. He came
upon his cousin so quietly that he did not hear him, and he stood and
contemplated him for some time in silence, but suddenly raising his
eyes Renaud became aware of the presence of a stranger. “Can this be
Maugis?” he said to himself, “once so strong and so straight, and now
so bent and so feeble, but a shadow of his former self?” But he soon
overcame his incertitude and sprang up and clasped Maugis in his arms,
who said:
“My dear Renaud! what pleasure I have to see you, you little know. We
will never be separated again.”
It was a long time before Renaud recovered from his joy, and though
each was very desirous to live solitary in pursuance of their vows to
God, they finally decided, however, that they would situate themselves
so as to see each other every day.
Maugis then installed himself a short distance away, in a cave under
a rock which he made habitable. From that time no day passed without
their seeing each other. It was the delight of these two brave old
warriors, whose days were numbered, to recall together their deeds in
the past, and the many things they had accomplished in company. Thus,
after a life of activity and turmoil, their isolation seemed peaceful
and blessed to them, and they found that peace which passeth all
understanding in their old age, which made them never regret having
quitted the world.
It happened that one day, when Maugis went as usual to the old oak
which served as their rendezvous, Renaud was not there, and after
waiting vainly for a long time, he hurried to his hermitage and there
found him feeble and depressed.
“My dear Maugis,” said Renaud to him, “I am now approaching the end
of my existence. I will soon enjoy eternal repose. I die with only
one regret, and that is, I cannot have you with me in death. That we
must at last leave each other. God is not willing that we should go
together, but we do not die, except from the vengeance of God, until we
are no longer useful to humanity.”
“What are you saying, my dear cousin,” replied Maugis. “Am I not also
useless; am I not old and infirm, and my forces completely disappeared?”
“That is true,” responded Renaud, “but you must remain on earth to
obey the destiny of your Lord. He is always ready to execute His will.
Adieu! my dear Maugis, we shall shortly meet again. I die happy because
I am dying in your arms.”
Renaud hardly spoke these last words when he yielded up his soul.
Maugis then tenderly disposed of his remains in the grave Renaud
had himself prepared, accomplishing this sad ceremony with complete
serenity. After having rendered these last duties to his cousin, Maugis
retired to his hermitage and remained there.
His end was near. It was decreed by God that he should soon follow his
cousin. One day as he was walking on the banks of the river Meuse, near
his hermitage, he heard cries of distress. It was the voices of young
women calling for assistance. Without regarding the infirmities of age,
Maugis hastened in the direction of the cries, and when he arrived at
the banks of the river he was astonished to find a young woman lying
there half-fainting, bound hand and foot; collecting all her resources
the swooning girl indicated the water, and upon turning his eyes in
that direction Maugis perceived a man, who was dragging another young
woman by the hair of her head and was about to cast her into the
water. Maugis, at the sight of this outrage, felt his old-time vigor
returning, and hastening to her assistance, he took his staff in both
hands and smote the villain on the head.
The man dodged the blow and escaped a second one by leaping into
the stream, dragging the young woman with him. Maugis hesitated not
a moment, and plunging after him and seizing him by the throat,
endeavored to pull him out of the water, but the man shook himself
free, and turned upon Maugis.
At that moment, such are the strange decrees of fate, the noble Maugis
recognized in the face of that man the features of Pinabel.
“Infamous scoundrel!” said he to him, “not content to have committed
acts of cowardice with men, you must complete your villainy by
attacking women. You shall die this time and you need not count on my
clemency.”
Saying this, Maugis seized him firmly and succeeded in forcing him
under the surface of the river, but the fear of death doubled the
strength of Pinabel. Maugis could not disembarrass himself from his
enemy, who, in his desperation, wound himself around Maugis with his
arms and legs. It was in vain that Maugis struck him and tried to
force him loose. The drowning wretch clung to him with the energy of