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"Aye, and they approved themselves worthy of each other. Oh, Kervan, I have run the Vagrery in my boyhood; I have witnessed frightful scenes during that period; but by the faith of a Vagre, I never was so terrified I still shudder with horror when I think of what, only a few days ago, took place under my own eyes, when Chram and his father met.
The old man is at work on a net for fishing; his son Jocelyn is fashioning a plough handle; Kervan is adjusting new thongs to a yoke; Karadeucq is sharpening the points of his arrows on a flint-stone. The tempest will last till morning if not longer, because the sun went down like a ball of fire behind thick black clouds that wreathed the isle of Sen like a dense fog.
It would not be any more dangerous to travel in a hostile country." "Oh, Kervan, if you could see the ravages of the conquest! Ruins everywhere, fresh and old ones. Our former Gallic roads and highways, so beautifully wide and carefully kept, with their relays of post horses and inns, are now all wild and heaps of ruins.
He promised to come this evening and teach us a new chant that he learned from a traveling tailor. Yes, it is he! Good evening, old Gildas!" "Good evening, my boy; good evening to all." "Shut the door, old Gildas. The air is cold; come near the fire." "Kervan, I am not alone. A stranger accompanies me. He knocked at my door and asked for the house where Kervan, the son of Jocelyn, dwells.
Kervan, his sister, his wife, his son and several of their relatives, who cultivate with them the identical fields that more than six hundred years ago Joel cultivated with his family, are engaged near the fireplace at several household tasks, the favorite pastimes during the long nights of winter. A violent gust of wind blows open the door and several windows.
What tidings do you bring us from him?" At this question Ronan the Vagre remained silent; his head drooped and tears again suffused his eyes. Deep silence reigned hereat among the descendants of Joel. All eyes wept. Kervan was the first to overcome his grief, and broke the silence, addressing his nephew: "Is it long since my brother Karadeucq died?" "Three months, dear uncle."
Kervan remarks to his sister: "Good Roselyk, it was on such a night as this, many long years ago, that a cursed peddler came to our door. Do you remember the incident?" "Alas, I do! The next morning our poor brother Karadeucq left us forever.
If he still lives in Britanny with his elder son Kervan and his daughter Roselyk, he must be inhabiting a house near the sacred stones of Karnak " "Who told you " "One of your ancestors was named Joel; he was the brenn of the tribe of Karnak.
If, however, my brother Kervan and my sweet sister Roselyk still live, tell them that I die with their names upon my lips and dear to my heart. Such were the last words uttered by my father." "And have you the account of your own and my brother's lives?" "Here it is," answered Ronan opening his traveling bag. And he drew from it a parchment which he handed over to Kervan.
The girl is called Roselyk, she is eighteen; the elder of the two boys, Kervan, is three years his sister's senior; the younger, my pet, Karadeucq, is seventeen. When you read these lines, as you will some day, my son Jocelyn, you will surely ask: "What can have been the reason that my great-grandfather Gildas made no other entry in our chronicles than the death of his father Amael?
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