The Brass Bell Part 11

Thereupon all the Gallic captives, men, women, and children present at the execution, all together repeated the last words of the druids, acclaiming them with so powerful a voice that the air shook even in my prison. After that supreme chant, the three placed their sacred heads in turn upon the block, and went the same way as the elders of Vannes. As the bard's and the druids' heads rolled upon the scaffold, all the captives took up the war-cry of the druids--"Strike the Roman! Strike at the head!"--in a voice so fierce and menacing that the legionaries, lowering their lances, hurriedly surrounded the unarmed and chained prisoners in a circle of iron, bristling with lance heads. But that mighty voice of their brothers and sisters had reached the wounded men shut up in the slave-shed, and all, myself included, answered the refrain:

"Strike the Roman! Strike! Strike at the head! Strike the Roman hard!"

Thus ended the war in Brittany. Thus ended the call to arms made by the druids from the heights of the sacred rocks of the forest of Karnak, after the sacrifice of Hena--the call to arms that led to the battle of Vannes. But in my lonely cell I did not yet lose hope. Our native Gaul, although invaded on all sides, would still resist. The Chief of the Hundred Valleys, forced to leave Brittany, had gone to arouse the regions still unvanquished.

CHAPTER XI.

THE SLAVES' TOILET.

Night fell, and with it my spirits, in my lonely prison.

Hesus! Hesus! I was left to the torture, not alone of my thoughts about my sacred and beloved country, but also of my reflections concerning the misfortunes of my family. Alas, at every wound inflicted upon our country our families bleed.

Forcibly resigned to my lot, I little by little regained my natural strength, encouraged each day by the hope of obtaining from the "horse-dealer" some intelligence of my children. I described them to him as accurately as possible. Every day his report was that among the captives seen there were none answering to my description, but that several merchants made a practice of hiding their choice slaves from all eyes until the day of the public sale. The dealer also informed me that the patrician Trymalcion, whose very name now made me shudder with horror, had arrived at Vannes in his galley.

The evening before the sale, the dealer entered my room. It was, almost dark. He brought in the meal himself, and waited on me. He brought as an extra a flagon of old Gallic wine.

"Friend Bull," said he, with his habitual joviality, "I am satisfied with you. Your skin is almost filled up. You have no more crazy spells of anger, and if you don't appear exceedingly joyous, at least I no longer find you sad and tearful. We will drink this flagon together, to your happy placing with a good master, and to the gain which I shall get by you."

"No," I answered, "I shall not drink."

"And why not?"

"Servitude sours wine, especially the wine of the country where one was born."

"You respond ill to my kindness. You do not wish to drink? Suit yourself. I would have liked to empty one cup to your happy placing, and a second to your reunion with your children. I have my reasons for the latter."

"What say you!" I cried aloud, filled with hope and anguish. "You know something about them?"

"I know nothing about them," he answered curtly, rising to go out. "You refuse my friendly advance. You have supped well--now sleep well."

"But what do you know of my children? Speak, I beg you, speak!"

"Wine alone loosens my tongue, friend Bull, and I am not one of those men who loves to drink by himself. You are too proud to empty a cup with your master. Sleep well till to-morrow, the day of the auction."

He took another step toward the door. I feared that by refusing to yield to the man's fancy I would anger him, and above all lose the chance of obtaining news of my beloved children.

"Do you really wish it?" I said. "Then I shall drink, and especially shall I drink to the hope of soon meeting my son and daughter."

"You pray well," answered the "horse-dealer" approaching his chattel, but keeping the chain's length away; then he poured me a full cup of wine, and another for himself. I later recollected that the man had held the cup a long time to his lips, but without my being able to see whether he drank or not. "Come," he added. "Come, let us drink to the good gain I shall make on you!"

"Yes, let us drink to the hope of meeting my children."

I emptied my cup. The wine seemed excellent.

"I made you a promise," began the dealer, "I shall keep my promise. You told me that the chariot which held your family on the day of the battle of Vannes was harnessed to four black oxen?"

"Yes."

"Four black oxen, with a little white mark in the middle of their foreheads?"

"Yes, all four were brothers, and alike," I answered, unable to repress a sigh at the thought of that fine yoke, raised on our own meadows, which my father and mother had always admired.

"Those oxen carried on their necks leathern collars trimmed with little bra.s.s bells like this one?" continued the "horse-dealer," fumbling in his pocket, out of which he drew a little bra.s.s bell that he held up before me.

I recognized it. It had been made by my brother Mikael, the armorer, and bore the mark with which he stamped all the articles of his fas.h.i.+oning.

"This bell comes from our oxen," I answered. "Will you give it to me? It has no value."

"What," asked the dealer, laughing, "do you want to hang bells at your neck too, friend Bull? It is your right. Here, take it. I brought it only to know from you if the yoke it came from was of your family's chariot."

"Yes," I replied, putting the bell into my breeches pocket, as, perhaps, the only reminder of the past which might be left to me. "Yes, that yoke was ours. But it seems to me that I saw two of the oxen fall wounded in the fight."

"You are not mistaken. Two of the oxen were killed in the battle. The other two, though slightly wounded, are alive, and were bought by one of my companions, who also bought three children left in the chariot. Two of them, a little boy and a little girl of about eight or nine, still had the cord around their necks. But my companion who found them was luckily able to bring them back to life."

"Where is that merchant?" I asked, in a tremble.

"Here, at Vannes. You will see him to-morrow. We drew lots for our places at the auction, our stands are opposite to each other. If the children he is to sell are yours, you will be near them."

"Shall I be really close?"

"You will be as close to them as twice the length of your room. But why do you press your hands to your forehead?"

"I don't know. It is a long time since I have drunk wine. The glow of what you poured out to me has gone to my head--a few seconds ago--I feel giddy."

"That proves, friend Bull, that my wine is generous," answered the "horse-dealer" with a strange smile, and stepping out, he called to one of the keepers. Presently he returned with a chest under his arm. He carefully shut the door, and hung a piece of curtain before the window, to prevent anyone looking from without into the room, which was now lighted by a lamp. That done, he again pa.s.sed his eyes very attentively over me, without saying a word, all the while opening his chest, from which he took several flasks, sponges, a little silver vase with a long curved tube, and also several instruments, one of which seemed very keen. I watched my master closely, feeling an inexplicable numbness gradually creeping over me. My heavy eye-lids fell once or twice in spite of myself. I had been seated on my bed of straw, to which I was still chained; but now I was compelled to lean my head against the wall, so heavy had it grown. Noticing the effect of the wine upon me, the "horse-dealer" said:

"Friend Bull, do not be disturbed at what is happening to you."

"What--" I answered, trying to shake off my stupor, "What is happening to me?"

"You feel a sort of half-drowse creeping over you in spite of your resistance."

"True."

"You hear me, you see me, but as if your ears and eyes were covered with a veil."

"It is true," I murmured, for my voice also was growing weak, and without experiencing any pain, my whole life seemed to be little by little ebbing out. Nevertheless, I made an effort, and said to the man:

"Why am I in this condition!"

"Because I have prepared you for the slaves' toilet."

"A toilet?"