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Updated: June 6, 2025
A few who escaped the sword and others who were too severely wounded to flee remained prisoners in the hands of Neroweg. Ronan, the Vagre, was among the latter. The superiority of arms prevailed over mere courage. And Loysik? And little Odille? And the bishopess?
And addressing Loysik, Ronan added: "Brother, fate sends to us a descendant of that family of Neroweg, whom our ancestor Schanvoch fought two centuries ago on the borders of the Rhine. I wish to kill that barbarian, rid Gaul of him, and protect our own family from the peril of his descendants " "Kill me!" murmured Odille, falling on her knees before the Vagre and clasping her hands.
He has removed his heavy sword from his broad and loosely hanging baldric and laid it upon a seat nearby, beside a stout holly club. Such is the convivial guest of the prelate, such is Count Neroweg, one of these new masters of the old lands of Gaul. Bishop Cautin resembles a large, fat, ruttish fox lascivious and sly eyes, red ears, a mobile and pointed nose, hirsute hands.
As soon as Neroweg was uncovered and ungagged Karadeucq said to him: "Count, your hands will remain bound, but I shall now free your legs. Will you walk to the forest with us?" "You mean to kill me there! Let us walk, accursed mountebank, you will see how a Frank marches with a firm step to death you Gallic dogs, race of slaves!"
This additional phenomenon added to the terror of Neroweg and his leudes; the whole troop threw themselves down flat upon their faces and murmured in their fright: "Oh Lord! Oh Lord! Have mercy upon us! Oh Lord, turn Your wrath from us!" And what was it that actually tumbled down from the tree? It was Bishop Cautin, and his was the voice that had sounded from on high.
"Is it your voice I hear, holy father?" queried Neroweg in a subdued voice without daring to raise his face from the ground or looking up. "Is it your own voice, holy bishop, or is it a snare that Satan spreads for us?" "It is myself your bishop to doubt it is sacrilege!" "Whence come you, good father?" "I descend from heaven.
Old Karadeucq, who had preserved his vigor, looked youthed by fully twenty years. The joy of having saved his sons and of having Neroweg in his power seemed to impart new life to him. His eyes sparkled, his cheeks were aflame, he contemplated the count with greedy looks. "We shall be revenged," said Ronan, "you will be revenged, little Odille."
Saying this Neroweg took one of his leudes aside and whispered to him: "Ansowald, you and Bertefred will arm yourselves well and remain near the door of the apartment into which I am to go with Chram. Hold yourselves in readiness to run in at my first call." "What do you fear, seigneur count?" "The family of Clovis has a strong liking for other people's goods.
"It is Count Neroweg, whom your father dexterously kidnapped from the very midst of the leudes with the aid of two of his comrades." "Neroweg in our power! In the power of Ronan, Loysik and Karadeucq, the descendants of Schanvoch! Heaven and earth!" "Hello, old Karadeucq, come this way Ronan will not believe that we kidnapped the Frankish wild-boar."
The real butt of the bishop's sarcasm was Neroweg, habitually stupid and dumb.
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