The Carlovingian Coins; Or, The Daughters of Charlemagne

"Art thou sorry to find thyself alone here with me?"

"Not at all!" cried Vortigern, "only I fear that this dense mist may change into rain towards evening, and that you may get wet. We should try and join the chase. Do you not think so?"

"In what direction shall we go?"

"It seemed to me a moment ago I heard the feeble sound of horns at a great distance."

"Let us listen again," said Thetralde, bending her charming head to one side, while Vortigern sought to listen from the opposite side.

"Dost thou hear anything?" queried the Emperor's daughter raising her sweet voice and addressing Vortigern, who stood at a little distance. "I can hear nothing."

"Nor I either," rejoined the young Breton.

"Here we are lost!" cried the young girl laughing merrily. "And if night overtakes us, what a terrible thing!"

"And you laugh at such a plight?"

"Is it that thou art afraid, and thou a soldier?" But immediately the handsome face of Thetralde assumed an uneasy look and she observed: "Does thy wound hurt thee, my brave companion?"

"I am not thinking of my wound. I am only uneasy at perceiving that the mist grows still thicker. How can we regain our route? Whither could we go?"

"But I do wish to speak of thy wound," replied Charles' daughter with infantine impatience. "Why is not thy arm any longer protected by a scarf, as it was yesterday?"

"It would have incommoded me in the chase."

Thetralde quickly detached her long belt of Tyrean silk and held it out to Vortigern. "Take this, my belt will take the place of thy scarf, and sustain thy arm."

"It is unnecessary, I assure you."

"Bad boy!" cried Thetralde, holding out her belt to Vortigern; and fixing upon him her beautiful blue eyes, almost imploringly said: "I beg of thee; do not refuse me!"

Vanquished by the timid and loving look, the young Breton accepted the scarf; but as he held the reins of his horse with one hand he found it difficult to fasten the belt into a scarf-band around his neck.

"Wait," and Thetralde approached her palfrey close to Vortigern's horse, leaned over in her saddle, took the two ends of the belt and tied them behind the lad's neck. The touch of the young girl's hand sent so wild a thrill through his frame that Thetralde, noticing the circumstance, said, as she finished the knot: "Thou tremblest – is it out of fear, or out of cold?"

"The mist is becoming so thick, so wet," answered Vortigern, with increasing uneasiness. "Are not you yourself cold? I very much fear for you in this icy mist – "

"Fear not for me. But seeing thou art cold, we can walk our horses. It would be useless to move any faster. Perhaps the chase that we are in search of will come our way."

"So much the better!"

"I am delighted to learn that thy grandfather and thyself will remain a long time with us."

"May we be fortunate enough to do so!"

The two children continued their way, walking their horses side by side in the long avenue, where one could see not twenty paces ahead, so thick had the mist become. Night presently began to draw near. After a short interval of mutual silence, Thetralde resumed:

"We Franks are the enemies of the people of thy country; and yet I feel no enmity whatever towards thee; and thou, dost thou entertain any hatred for me?"

"I could not feel hatred for a young girl."

"Thou must feel very sorry for being far away from thy own country. Wouldst thou wish me to ask the Emperor, my father, to render grace to thy grandfather and thyself?"

"A Breton never asks for grace!" proudly cried Vortigern. "My grandfather and I are hostages, prisoners on parole; we shall submit to the law of war."

A fresh interval of silence followed upon this exchange of words. But soon, as Vortigern had foreseen, the dense mist changed into a fine and penetrating rain.

"The rain is upon us!" exclaimed the young Breton. "Not a sound is heard. This route seems to be endless. No! here is a side path to the left. Shall we take it?"

"As it may please thee," answered Thetralde with indifference.

The girl was about to turn her horse's head, agreeable to the suggestion of Vortigern, when the latter suddenly leaped down from his mount, detached the belt of his sword, took off his blouse, remaining in his thick jacket of the material of his breeches, and said to Thetralde:

"I consented to accept your scarf. It is now your turn. You must now consent to cover yourself with my blouse. It will serve you for a mantle."

"Place it on my shoulders," answered Thetralde blushing; "I dare not drop the reins of my palfrey."

No less agitated than his girl companion, Vortigern drew near her and laid his garment on the shoulders of Thetralde. But when it came to tying the sleeves of the blouse around her neck and almost upon the palpitating bosom of the young girl, who, with her eyes lowered and her cheeks burning, raised her little pink chin in order to afford Vortigern full ease in the accomplishment of his kindly office, the hands of the lad shook so violently, that his mission was not accomplished until after repeated trials.

"Thou art cold; thou art shivering worse than thou didst before."

"It is not the cold that makes me shiver – "

"What ails thee then?"

"I know not – the uneasiness that I feel on your behalf, seeing that night approaches. We have lost our way in the forest. The rain is coming down heavier. And we know not what road to take – "

Interrupting her companion with a cry of joy, Thetralde pointed with her finger to one side of the avenue of trees that they were on, and exclaimed: "There is a hut down yonder!"

So there was. Vortigern perceived in the center of a cluster of centenarian chestnut trees a hut constructed of thick layers of peat heaped upon one another. A narrow opening gave entrance to the bower, before which the remnants of some dry wood recently lighted were still seen smouldering. "It is one of the huts in which the woodcutter slaves take refuge during the day when it rains," explained Thetralde. "We shall be then under cover. Tie thy horse to a tree and help me alight."

At the bare thought of sharing the solitary retreat with the young girl, Vortigern felt his heart thump under his ribs. A flush of burning fever rose to his face while, nevertheless, he shivered. After a moment's hesitation, the lad complied with the orders of his companion. He tied his horse to a tree, and, in order to assist the young girl to alight from her mount, he extended to her his arms and received within them the supple and nimble body of Thetralde. So profound was the emotion experienced by Vortigern at the touch of the maid, that he was almost overcome. But the daughter of Charles, running towards the hut with pretty curiosity, cried out merrily:

"I see a moss-bank in the hut and a supply of dry wood. Let's light a fire. There are still some embers burning. Hurry. Hurry."

The lad hastened to join his companion and stumbled over a large log of wood that rolled at his feet. Stooping, he saw strewn about it a large number of burrs that had dropped down from the tall chestnut trees overhead. At once forgetting his embarrassment, he exclaimed with delight:

"A discovery! Chestnuts! Chestnuts!"

"What a find," responded Thetralde, no less delighted. "We shall roast the chestnuts. I shall pick them up while thou startest the fire."

The young Breton did as suggested by his girl companion, all the more readily seeing that he hoped to find in the sport a refuge from the vague, tumultuous and ardent thoughts, big at once with delight and anxiety, that he had been a prey to from the moment of his meeting with Thetralde. He entered the hut, took up several bunches of dry wood and rekindled the brasier into flame, while the daughter of Charles, running hither and thither, gathered a large supply of chestnuts which she brought into the hut in a fold of her dress. Letting herself down upon the moss-bank that lay at the further end of the hut, the interior of which was now brightly lighted by the glare of the fire which burned near the entrance, she said to Vortigern, motioning him to a seat near her:

"Sit down here, and help me shell these chestnuts."

The lad sat down near Thetralde and entered with her into a contest of swiftness in the shelling of chestnuts, during which, like herself, he more than once pricked his fingers in the effort to extract the ripe kernels from their burrs. Presently, looking into her face, he said archly:

"And here you have the daughter of the Emperor of the Franks; seated inside of a peat hut and shelling chestnuts like any woodchopper and slave's daughter."