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Updated: June 5, 2025
You shall be burned for a heretic!" It was the voice of Bishop Cautin. And almost at the same instant, from afar, from the side where the Vagres were finishing their night of wassail, these other cries were heard through the stillness of the approaching dawn: "On guard! On guard! The leudes of Count Neroweg are approaching! The count himself is at their head!" "On guard!
Up, my Vagres! Up! The sun is high! We have in these carts still much booty left to be distributed on our way. Let us proceed, little Odille and beautiful bishopess! Let us pillage the seigneurs, and give freely to the poor! Let us keep only just enough to feast upon to-night in the fastness of Allange under the dome of the stately old oak trees. On the march!
They are in the holy chapel of the episcopal villa, where they do that which all Vagres do after they have drunk their fill, ravaged and pillaged.
"Give me your torch," said the lover of the bishopess, "and take me straight to the hay lofts, or I stab you to death." The two slaves obeyed; the Vagres parted company; one ran towards the hay lofts and barns, the other to the ergastula, both guided by their conductors. The prisoners in the ergastula had drawn as close as possible to the iron railing.
Yes; the good God has dug for the good Vagres a number of large pits in the secluded fastnesses of Allange. They are spacious craters, now extinct like other volcanic apertures in Auvergne. Is not one of these deep semi-circular grottoes, in which a man can stand upright, a veritable bake-house?
"I hear tumultuous cries the clash of arms." "Ronan, the Vagres must have come to our deliverance, the burg is on fire!" "The fire spreads look look it is as clear as day in front of the prison." "A man is running this way why, it is Karadeucq, our father!" "Loysik! Ronan! Oh! my sons." "You here, father?" "Ronan, Loysik, all of you within, join me to break down the iron railing."
"There are seven of them! They are on horseback! They are leading a gang of chained men! Up, my Vagres! Death to the leudes! Freedom to the slaves!" "Death to the leudes! Freedom to the slaves!" shouted the Vagres and ran to their arms. "The Franks have come to capture me and take me back to the burg of the count!" cried little Odille. "Oh, Ronan, protect me!"
Long live all Gaul!" "The Vagres!" cried the thunder-struck Franks, dumbfounded at the death of the two leudes. "The Vagres! These demons seem to rise from underground and from the depth of hell!" "This way!" cried Ronan in a thundering voice. "This way, my Vagres! Kill the Franks!" The cry was addressed to the Vagres, whom Ronan saw pouring in.
Despite the remonstrances of the hermit-laborer, he dashed in among the startled slaves, and fulminated his anathemas. "Oh! We shall touch nothing of all that is offered us, holy bishop!" answered the mothers with a shudder. "We shall not touch any of the goods of the Church." "My Vagres!" cried Ronan, "Hang the bishop on the nearest tree! We shall not lack for a cook."
May our druids, both the Christian and the non-Christian, continue to inspire us with a love for freedom and with the virile virtues of our ancestors. "'The devil take the Franks! Long live the Vagrery and Old Gaul! Such is the cry of all Vagres. The Franks call us 'Wand'ring Men, 'Wolves, 'Wolves' Heads. Let us be wolves!
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