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
“Monseigneur, a man who resists his king, who, after his God, is his
lord and master, makes an offense against heaven and justice. What do
you propose to do? Sustain your disobedience by force of arms? We are
all ready to shed our blood to the last drop, if may be, in the cause
of justice, and our valor will never allow us to yield to numbers,
but what will be our fate if we are defeated? How can you expect the
clemency of the king if you refuse to receive his son? Have you no fear
of the fate of a rebellious subject?”
The Duke d’Aigremont would not allow him to finish. Sparks of fire shot
from his eyes, their pupils dilated and he menaced his loyal servitor
for having ventured to speak so freely.
The duchess, on her part, fearful of the result, conjured the
inflexible man to listen to the counsels of his true friends and to
again seek to enter into the good graces of the king; when, however,
the matter was submitted to the assemblage, there was a great division
of opinion. This is why the advice of the good duchess was opposed by
some and satisfied others.
The Duke d’Aigremont insisted on his intention of declining to serve
the king and refused to listen while, said he, he had three brothers
from whom he had a right to expect support, without counting his four
nephews, the sons of the Duke d’Aymon, without doubt the most valiant
warriors of the kingdom.
Meanwhile, during the occurrence of these scenes, the cavalcade of
Lothaire came into view of the castle. He had never seen a fortress in
a more formidable position, situated as it was on a high and almost
inaccessible rock at the foot of which a deep river ran.
“Indeed, your highness,” said the commander of the escort to the young
prince, “yon is a formidable place truly.” The castle had now come more
fully into view and as its tall battlements flanked by two high towers
arose on high, outlined against the blue sky, the prince only smiled
and replied:
“Tut! Gaston, the sight of such an obstacle only incites me the more to
fulfill the mission intrusted me, and nothing shall retard me.”
In due time, to the sound of a lively fanfare by his heralds, Prince
Lothaire stood before the gates of the castle and was admitted to the
great court that was ominously guarded by grim soldiery.
The Duke d’Aigremont received him in the great audience-chamber seated
upon his throne. Beside him were his wife and son Renaud. Lothaire
advanced to the duke to acquaint him with his mission, but instead of
talking with moderation and following the counsels of the principal
knights of his suite, he forgot all reserve and with a haughty mien
spoke as follows:
“Woe to the servant who disobeys his master! Monseigneur! Charlemagne
is irritated against you because you have not obeyed his commands. He
demands to know your reasons. Also am I come by his commands to promise
you his pardon, provided you will at once place yourself at his mercy
and make oath to send him five hundred knights. If you persist in your
refusal you shall receive no pity. Punishments most cruel will be
visited upon thee and thine, and the loss of all thy domains and all
thy subjects will be the consequence of thy obstinacy. I require an
immediate answer. Decide quickly, for Charlemagne awaits my return with
impatience.”
At these bold and indiscreet words the Duke d’Aigremont bounded to his
feet enraged.
“By Saint Gris!” he cried, “tell thy father, Charlemagne, that not only
do I refuse his appeal to assist him in war, but that I will myself
make war upon him. I will come with my own army and destroy the kingdom
of France.”
“Thou traitor!” shouted Lothaire in reply, forgetting all restraint and
refusing the warnings of his suite to conduct himself moderately.
Those old days were grim times—there was very little between a word and
a blow.
“Have a care, young man,” hissed D’Aigremont, his eyes blazing. “You
will never return to thy father.”
“Traitor and coward!” hotly responded the prince, drawing his sword.
The duke, upon this, unsheathed his own sword and sprang upon Lothaire,
his knights threw themselves upon the suite of the prince, and the
_mêlée_ became general.
The great audience-chamber rang with sounds of blows, oaths, shouts,
and the cries of the wounded and dying.
Prince Lothaire was everywhere, his sword seemed invincible, a man fell
at every stroke. Even when the Duke d’Aigremont appeared before him
he barely resisted the furious onward rush of Lothaire and fell back
staggering and wounded from a terrible stroke of his sword. But quickly
recovering, in his turn he struck down the prince with all his force,
and such was his fury he did not leave the mangled remains until he had
cut off the head of his opponent.
Meantime in battle around them the men of the prince had fought
bravely, although greatly outnumbered. Of the one hundred men composing
the suite, only twenty remained alive, and these, seeing the fall of
their chief commander, surrendered. The infuriated duke ordered all but
ten of them to be killed, and these he made swear solemnly that they
would carry the remains of the prince back to Paris.
“Tell him, thy master,” said he, “that here is the body of thy son. Be
assured I shall not wait idly for thee to come and succor it.”
The ten knights having given their word to report these words
faithfully, put the remains of Lothaire in a chariot and departed
sorrowfully homeward.
In the meantime, Charlemagne, much disquieted at not receiving news of
his son, openly manifested his fears. The sinister presentiments he had
had made him think his son was dead, then in an access of rage he made
the most terrible threats against the Duke d’Aigremont.
“I will go,” said he, “at the head of an army and reduce him to the
most cruel extremities.”
Those surrounding him endeavored to calm him and convince him that
it would be impossible for the Duke d’Aigremont to be capable of so
infamous an action.
“If ever,” cried the Duke d’Aymon, “the Duke d’Aigremont has committed
such a crime, he should be served with a startling vengeance. Who among
us would refuse you support? For me, sire! and my four sons, count on
our loyalty and courage.”
“I am deeply moved by thy fidelity, my good Aymon,” replied the king.
“Many affairs have so occupied me that I have not yet seen thy four
brave sons. Do thou present them to me on the morrow that I may arm
them in a style befitting their high rank.”
Following upon this, the next day, in the presence of the whole
court, Charlemagne formally knighted Maugis and presented him with a
magnificent suit of armor that he had himself taken from the King of
Cyprus, who had fallen under his own hand at Paraplumex. Then the king
embraced him. Maugis had then placed upon his feet the golden spurs of
Oger, the Dane, after which he sprang upon the back of his favorite
horse, Bayard, whose name has come down to us in poetry and song as
one of the most perfect animals that ever existed.
The three brothers of Maugis were equally well armed and knighted.
Following these ceremonies, Charlemagne gave a tournament in their
honor, at which the young men so acquitted themselves as to win the
admiration of everyone.
Maugis, having defeated one of the most skillful knights of
Charlemagne’s court, while riding around the lists toward the station
of the king, amid the tumultuous plaudits of the onlookers, was stopped
in his course by seeing a tiny glove tied with a knot of blue ribbon
fall at his feet. Hastily dismounting and recovering it he looked up
among the sea of faces regarding him and his eye was arrested by a
beautiful figure seated beside a stalwart warrior, one of the guests of
the court.
When two beautiful blue eyes met his own, their glance sought his heart
direct; even as a moonbeam will kiss a placid pool and glorify it, so
was the heart of Maugis gladdened. He failed not during the few seconds
of the episode to note the tall willowy figure and the shapely head
which was soon hidden blushing behind the shoulder of her brother,
shrinking from the too ardent gaze of the young knight. Neither failed
he to note that her slender waist was encircled by a sash of the same
hue as the ribbon on the glove he held in his hand.
Little did he know the vicissitudes that would afterward divide their
lives and pursue them when united—he only loved and was happy.
Reverently kissing the glove, Maugis placed it on his helmet and
thereafter performed such deeds of valor and prowess that everyone
was amazed. Charlemagne hastened to swear the four brothers into his
service, and insisted that Maugis should never quit him. Still no news
of Lothaire. The entire court was depressed. The king, accompanied by
the Duke of Naimes, took long walks on the banks of the Seine, their
favorite promenade, and there alone with his most intimate friend, the
king poured out to him all his hopes and fears. One day while taking
their accustomed walk, they saw at a great distance a cavalier covered
with dust approach them at a gallop. They both at the same instant
recognized him as one of the suite of Lothaire. Charlemagne, turning
pale, threw himself into the arms of the Duke of Naimes.
“My son is dead,” he cried, “and it is I who am his murderer. How much
better it would have been if, instead of showing clemency to the Duke
of Aigremont, I had marched upon him at the head of an army. I would
not have been to-day mourning the death of my son.”
At this moment the messenger knight, who had ridden night and day to
bring the tidings, presented himself before them and announced the
bloody death of Lothaire, which having done, overcome with fatigue, he
fell at the feet of Charlemagne and expired.
A most touching scene then occurred between the emperor and his
confidant. Both wept and amid their tears sought to console each other.
“Why shed tears?” said the Duke de Naimes, “our regrets will not bring
back the prince to life. It is vengeance we must have now. To punish
the murderer is, above all, our sole aim. God, who never abandons those
who battle for the right, will sustain us. Here, it is not only the
father who fights the assassin of his son, it is the sovereign who
demands account of the blood of his ambassador.”
This energetic discourse had the effect intended by the duke.
Charlemagne, with his face resolute, laid aside his sorrowings and gave
orders to his knights, courtiers and soldiers for the disposition of
the remains of his son. An immense _cortége_ accompanied the body to
the church of St. Germain des Pres, where the final obsequies occurred.
After the ceremony terminated, when Charlemagne was returning
sorrowfully to Paris with his suite, revolving in his mind projects
of vengeance, a messenger brought to him the startling intelligence
that the Duke d’Aymon and his four sons had suddenly left the court
and had quitted Paris. At this the king became so enraged and swore so
violently that it was all in vain the courtiers sought to calm him by
calling his attention to the fact that the Duke d’Aymon was the own
brother of the Duke d’Aigremont, who had murdered his son, and when he
left his sons were in duty bound to accompany him. Charlemagne could
listen to nothing, but finally becoming more calm, demanded to know the
real reason for the departure of the five knights.
It was reported to him that the Duke d’Aymon de Dordogne, being made
aware of the death of Lothaire and of the felony of his brother
d’Aigremont, called his sons together in council. He felt that they
were in a false position owing to the shameful defection of their
relative, and he realized that Charlemagne, in his just anger, would
take a terrible revenge. What should they do? What course should they