The Gold Sickle; Or, Hena, The Virgin of The Isle of Sen. A Tale of Druid Gaul

"You see, friend," said Joel, "with what impatience your stories are awaited. But before starting, and so as to give you strength, you shall presently drink to the victor with good wine of Gaul," and turning to his son: "Guilhern, fetch in the little keg of white wine from Beziers that your brother Albinik brought us on his last trip; fill up the cup in honor of the traveler."

When that was done, Joel said to Julyan and Armel:

"Now, boys, fall to with your sabres!"

CHAPTER III

ARMEL AND JULYAN

The numerous family of Joel, gathered in a semi-circle at one end of the spacious hall, impatiently awaited the combat, with Mamm' Margarid holding the place of honor. The stranger stood at her right, her husband at her left, and two of the smallest children before her on their knees. Margarid raised her distaff and gave the signal for the combat to begin; the lowering of the distaff was to be the signal for the combat to end.

Julyan and Armel stripped down to the waist, preserving their breeches only. Again they clasped hands. Each thereupon slung on his left arm a buckler of wood covered with seal-skin, armed himself with a heavy sabre of copper, and impetuously assailed each other, being all the more spurred by the presence of the stranger, before whom they were eager to display their skill and valor. Joel's guest looked more highly delighted than anyone else at the spectacle before him, and his face lighted with warlike animation.

Julyan and Armel were at it. Their eyes sparkled, not with hatred but with foolhardiness. They exchanged no words of anger but of friendly cheer, all the while dealing out terrible blows that would have been deadly had they not been skillfully parried. At every thrust, brilliantly made, or dexterously avoided, the men, women and children in the audience clapped their hands, and according as the combat ran, cried:

"Her … her … Julyan!"

"Her … her … Armel!"

Such was the effect of these cries, of the sight of the combat, of the clash of arms, that the huge mastiff Deber-Trud, the man-eater, felt the ardor of battle seize also himself, and barked wildly looking up at his master, who calmed and caressed him with his hand.

Perspiration covered the young bodies of the handsome and robust Julyan and Armel. Each other's peers in courage, vigor and agility, neither had yet wounded the other.

"Let's hurry, brother Julyan!" said Armel rushing on his companion with fresh impetus. "Let us hurry to hear the pretty stories of the stranger."

"The plow can go no faster than the plowman, brother Armel," answered Julyan.

With these words, Julyan seized his sabre with both hands, stretched himself at full length, and dealt so furious a stroke to his adversary that, although the latter threw himself back and thereby softened the blow, his buckler flew into splinters and the weapon struck Armel in the temple. The wounded man staggered for an instant and then fell flat upon his back, amid the admiring cries of "Her … her … Julyan!" from the enraptured by-standers among whom Stumpy was the loudest with the cry of "Her … her!"

After lowering her distaff as a sign that the combat was over Mamm' Margarid stepped toward the wounded combatant to give him her attention, while Joel said to his guest, reaching him the cup:

"Friend guest, you shall drink this old wine to the triumph of Julyan."

"I drink to the triumph of Julyan and also to the valiant defeat of Armel!" responded the stranger. "The courage of the vanquished youth equals that of the vanquisher… I have seen many a combat, but never have I seen greater bravery and courage displayed! Glory to the family of Joel!.. Glory to your tribe!"

"Formerly," said Joel, "these festive combats took place among us almost every day. Now they are rarer; they have been replaced by wrestling matches; but sabre combats better recall the habits of the old Gauls."

Mamm' Margarid shook her head after a second inspection of the wound, while Julyan steadying himself against the wall sought to hold up his friend. One of the young women hurried with a casket of lint and salves, in which was also a little vial of mistletoe water. Armel's wound bled copiously; it was staunched with difficulty; the wounded youth's face was pale and his eyes closed.

"Brother Armel," said Julyan to him in a cheerful voice, on his knees beside the prostrate Armel, "do not break down for so little… Each has his day and his hour… To-day you were wounded, to-morrow will be my turn… We fought bravely… The stranger will not forget the young men of Karnak and of the family of Joel, the brenn of the tribe."

His face down, his forehead bathed in cold perspiration, Armel seemed not to hear the voice of his friend. Mamm' Margarid again shook her head, ordered some burnt coal, that was brought her on a little flat stone and threw on it some of the pulverized mistletoe bark. A strong vapor rose from the little brasier, and Mamm' Margarid made Armel inhale it. A little after he opened his eyes, looked around as if he awoke from a dream, and said feebly:

"The angel of death calls me… I shall now live no longer here but yonder… My father and mother will be surprised and pleased to see me so soon… I also shall be happy to meet them."

A second later he added regretfully:

"How I would have liked to hear the pretty stories of the traveler!"

"What, brother Armel!" said Julyan, visibly astonished and grieved. "Are you to depart so soon from us? We were enjoying life so well together… We swore brotherhood and never to leave each other!"

"We did so swear, Julyan," Armel answered feebly, "but it is otherwise decreed."

Julyan dropped his head upon his two hands and made no answer.

Mamm' Margarid, skillful in the art of tending wounds, an art that she learned from a druid priestess her relative, placed her hand on Armel's heart. A few seconds later she said to those near her and who, together with Joel and his guest, stood around:

"Teutates calls Armel away to take him to those who have preceded us. He will soon depart. If any of us has any message for the loved ones who have preceded us yonder, and wishes Armel to carry it – let him make haste."

Mamm' Margarid thereupon kissed the forehead of the dying young man and said to him: "Give to all the members of our family the kiss of remembrance and hope."

"I shall give them, Mamm' Margarid, the kiss of remembrance and hope in your name," answered Armel in a fainting voice, and added again in a pet, "and yet I would so much have liked to hear the pretty stories of the traveler!"

These words seemed deeply to affect Julyan, who still holding his friend's head looked down upon him with sadness.

Little Sylvest, the son of Guilhern, a child of rosy cheeks and golden hair, who held with one hand the hand of his mother Henory, advanced a little and addressing the dying relative said:

"I loved little Alanik very much; he went away last year… Tell him that little Sylvest always remembers him, and embrace him for me, Armel."

"I shall embrace little Alanik for you, little Sylvest," and Armel added again, "and yet I would have liked to hear the pretty stories of the traveler!"

Another man of Joel's family said to his expiring kinsman:

"I was a friend of Houarne of the tribe of Morlech, our neighbor. He was killed defenceless, while asleep, a short time ago. Tell him, Armel, that Daoulas, his murderer, was discovered, was tried and condemned by the druids of Karnak and his sacrifice will soon take place. Houarne will be pleased to learn of Daoulas' punishment."

Armel signified that he would convey the message to Houarne.

Stumpy, who, not through wickedness but intemperate language, was the cause of Armel's death, also drew near with a message to the one about to depart, and said:

"You know that at the eighth face of this month's moon old Mark, who lives near Glen'han was taken ill; the angel of death told him also to prepare for a speedy departure. Old Mark was not ready. He wished to assist at the wedding of his daughter's daughter. Not being ready to go, old Mark bethought him of some one who might be ready to go in his place and that would satisfy the angel of death. He asked the druid, his physician, if he knew of some 'substitute.' The druid answered him that Gigel of Nouaren, a member of our tribe, would be available, that he might consent to depart in the place of old Mark, and that he might be induced to do so both out of kindness to Mark and to render himself agreeable to the gods, who are always pleased at the sight of such sacrifices. Gigel consented freely. Old Mark made him a present of ten pieces of silver with the stamp of a horse's head, which Gigel distributed among his friends before departing. He then cheerfully emptied his last cup and bared his breast to the sacred knife amid the chants of the bards. The angel of death accepted the substitute. Old Mark attended the wedding of his daughter's daughter, and to-day he is in good health – "

"Do you mean to say that you are willing to depart in my stead, Stumpy?" asked the dying warrior. "I fear it is now too late – "

"No, no; I am not ready to depart in your stead," Stumpy hastened to answer. "I only wish to request you to return to Gigel three pieces of silver that I owed him; I could not repay him sooner. I feared Gigel might come and demand his money by moonlight in the shape of some demon." Saying which Stumpy rummaged in his lamb-skin bag, took out three pieces with the stamp of a horse's head, and placed them in the pocket of Armel's breeches.

"I shall hand your three pieces of silver to Gigel," said Armel in a voice now hardly audible; and for a last time he murmured at Julyan's ear: "And yet … I would … have liked … to hear … the pretty stories … of … the traveler."

"Be at ease, brother Armel," Julyan answered him; "I shall attentively listen to the pretty stories so that I may remember them well; and to-morrow … I shall depart and tell them to you… I would weary here without you… We swore brotherhood to each other, and never to be separated; I shall follow you and continue to live yonder in your company."

"Truly … you will come?" said the dying youth, whom the promise seemed to render happy; "will you come … to-morrow?"

"To-morrow, by Hesus… I swear to you, Armel, I shall come."

The eyes of the whole family turned to Julyan at hearing the promise, and looked lovingly upon him. The wounded youth seemed the most pleased of all, and with his last breath said:

"So long, then, brother Julyan … listen attentively … to the stories… And now … farewell … farewell … to all of you of our tribe," and Armel sought to suit the motion of his hands to his words.

As loving relatives and friends crowd around one of their own when he is about to depart on a long journey, during which he will meet people of whom they all preserve a cherished remembrance, each now pressed the hand of Armel and gave him some tender commission for those of their tribe whom he was about to meet again.