The Story of the Middle Ages Crown, Conversion, and Blade The Early Medieval World

The Girl of the French Vinyards – Clovis - The Salic Law – Alboin and Rosamond – Wamba of Spain – Gregory the Great/The Rise of Islam – Tarik – Tarik's Address to His Soldiers – The Lamentation of Don Rodrigo – The Cave of Covadonga – The Do-Nothing Kings – Tours: The Decisive Battle Between Crescent and Cross

E.S. Brooks: “The Girl of the French Vinyards” From Historic Girls (1887)

It was little more than fourteen hundred years ago, in the year of our Lord 485, that a little girl crouched trembling and terrified, at the feet of a pitying priest in the palace of the kings of Burgundy. ...For her cruel uncle, Gundebald, waging war against his brother Chilperic, the rightful king of Burgundy, had with a band of savage followers burst into his brother's palace and, after the fierce and relentless fashion of those cruel days, had murdered King Chilperic, the father of little Clotilda, the queen, her mother, and the young princes, her brothers; and was now searching for her and her sister Sedelenda, to kill them also. Poor Sedelenda had hidden away in some other far-off corner; but even as Clotilda hung for protection to the robe of the... stranger-priest Ugo of Rheims (whom the king, her father, had lodged in the palace, on his homeward journey from Jerusalem), the clash of steel drew nearer and nearer. Through the corridor came the rush of feet, the arras in the doorway was rudely flung aside, and the poor child's fierce pursuers, with her cruel uncle at their head, rushed into the room. "Hollo! Here hides the game!" he cried in savage exultation. "Thrust her away, Sir Priest, or thou diest in her stead. Not one of the tyrant's brood shall live. I say it!" "And who art thou to judge of life or death?" demanded the priest sternly, as he still shielded the trembling child. "I am Gundebald, King of Burgundy by the grace of mine own good sword and the right of succession," was the reply. "Trifle not with me, Sir Priest, but thrust away the child. She is my lawful prize to do with as I will. Ho, Sigebert, drag her forth!" Quick as a flash the brave priest stepped before the cowering child, and, with one hand still resting protectingly on the girl's fair hair, he raised the other in stern and fearless protest, and boldly faced the murderous throng. "Back, men of blood!" he cried. "Back! Nor dare to lay hand on this young maid who hath here sought sanctuary!" Fierce and savage men always respect bravery in others. There was something so courageous and heroic in the act of that single priest in thus facing a ferocious and determined band, in defence of a little girl,—for girls were but slightingly regarded in those far-off days,— that it caught the savage fancy of the cruel king. And this, joined with his respect for the Church's right of sanctuary, and with the lessening of his thirst for blood, now that he had satisfied his first desire for revenge. led him to desist. "So be it then," he said, lowering his threatening sword. "I yield her to thee, Sir Priest. Look to her welfare and thine own. Surely a girl can do no harm." But King Gundebald and his house lived to learn how far wrong was that unguarded statement. For the very lowering of the murderous sword that thus brought life to the little Princess Clotilda meant the downfall of the kingdom of Burgundy and the rise of the great and victorious nation of France. The memories of even a little maid of ten are not easily blotted out. Her sister, Sedelenda, had found refuge and safety in the convent of Ainay, near at hand, and there, too, Clotilda would have gone, but her uncle, the new king, said: "No, the maidens must be forever separated." He expressed a willingness, however, to have the Princess Clotilda brought up in his palace, which had been her father's, and requested the priest Ugo of Rheims to remain awhile, and look after the girl's education. In those days a king's request was a command, and the good Ugo, though stern and brave in the face of real danger, was shrewd enough to know that it was best for him to yield to the king's wishes. So he continued in the palace of the king, looking after the welfare of his little charge, until suddenly the girl took matters into her own hands, and decided his future and her own. The kingdom of Burgundy, in the days of the Princess Clotilda, was a large tract of country now embraced by Southern France and Western Switzerland. It had been given over by the Romans to the Goths, who had invaded it in the year 413. It was a land of forest and vineyards, of fair valleys and sheltered hill-sides, and of busy cities that the fostering hand of Rome had beautified; while through its broad domain the Rhone, pure and sparkling, swept with a rapid current from Swiss lake and glacier, southward to the broad and beautiful Mediterranean. Lyons was its capital, and on the hill of Fourviere, overlooking the city below it, rose the marble palace of the Burgundian kings, near to the spot where, to-day, the ruined forum of the old Roman days is still shown to tourists. It had been a palace for centuries. Roman governors of "Imperial Gaul" had made it their head-quarters and their home; three Roman emperors had cooed and cried as babies within its walls; and it had witnessed also many a feast and foray, and the changing fortunes of Roman, Gallic, and Burgundian conquerors and over-lords. But it was no longer "home" to the little Princess Clotilda. She thought of her father and mother, and of her brothers, the little princes with whom she had played in this very palace, as it now seemed to her, so many years ago. And the more she feared her cruel uncle, the more did she desire to go... far away from his presence. So, after thinking the whole matter over.... she told her good friend Ugo, the priest, of her father's youngest brother Godegesil, who ruled the dependent principality of Geneva, far up the valley of the Rhone. "Yes, child, I know the place," said Ugo. "A fair city indeed, on the blue and beautiful Lake Lemanus, walled in by mountains, and rich in corn and vineyards." "Then let us fly thither," said the girl. "My uncle Godegesil I know will succor us, and I shall be freed from my fears of King Gundebald."

Though it seemed at first to the good priest only a child's desire, he learned to think better of it when he saw how unhappy the poor girl was in the hated palace, and how slight were her chances for improvement. And so, one fair spring morning in the year 486, the two slipped quietly out of the palace; and by slow and cautious stages, with help from friendly priests and nuns, and frequent rides in the heavy ox-wagons that were the only means of transport other than horseback, they finally reached the old city of Geneva. And on the journey, the good Ugo had made the road seem less weary, and the lumbering ox-wagons less jolty and painful, by telling his bright young charge of all the wonders and relics he had seen in his journeyings in the East; but especially did the girl love to hear him tell of the boy king of the Franks, Hlodo-wig, or Clovis, who lived in the priest's own boyhood home of Tournay, in far-off Belgium, and who, though so brave and daring, was still a pagan, when all the world was fast becoming Christian. And as Clotilda listened, she wished that she could turn this brave young chief away from his heathen deities, Thor and Odin, to the worship of the Christians' God; and, revolving strange fancies in her mind, she determined what she would do when she "grew up,"—as many a girl since her day has determined. But even as they reached the fair city of Geneva—then half Roman, half Gallic, in its buildings and its life —the wonderful news met them how this boy-king Clovis, sending a challenge to combat to the prefect Syagrius, the last of the Roman governors, had defeated him in a battle at Soissons, and broken forever the power of Rome in Gaul. War, which is never any thing but terrible, was doubly so in those savage days, and the plunder of the captured cities and homesteads was the chief return for which the barbarian soldiers followed their leaders. But when the Princess Clotilda heard how, even in the midst of his burning and plundering, the young Frankish chief spared some of the fairest Christian churches, he became still more her hero; and again the desire to convert him from paganism and to revenge her father's murder took shape in her mind.... But now that the good priest Ugo of Rheims saw that his own home land was in trouble, he felt that there lay his duty. And Godegesil, the under-king of Geneva, feeling uneasy alike from the nearness of this boy conqueror and the possible displeasure of his brother and over- lord, King Gundebald, declined longer to shelter his niece in his palace at Geneva. "And why may I not go with you?" the girl asked of Ugo; but the old priest knew that a conquered and plundered land was no place to which to convey a young maid for safety, and the princess, therefore, found refuge among the sisters of the church of St. Peter in Geneva. And here she passed her girlhood, as the record says, "in works of piety and charity." So four more years went by. In the north, the boy chieftain, reaching manhood, had been raised aloft on the shields of his fair-haired and long-limbed followers, and with many a "hael!" and shout had been proclaimed "King of the Franks." In the south, the young Princess Clotilda, now nearly sixteen, had washed the feet of pilgrims, ministered to the poor, and, after the manner of her day, had proved herself a zealous church-worker in that low-roofed convent near the old church of St. Peter, high on that same hill in Geneva where to-day, hemmed in by narrow streets and tall houses, the cathedral of St. Peter, twice rebuilded since Clotilda's time, overlooks the quaint city, the beautiful lake of Geneva, and the rushing Rhone, and sees across the valley of the Arve the gray and barren rocks of the Petit Seleve and the distant snows of Mont Blanc. One bright summer day, as the young princess passed into the hospitium, or guest-room for poor pilgrims, attached to the convent, she saw there a stranger, dressed in rags. He had the wallet and staff of a mendicant, or begging pilgrim, and, coming toward her, he asked for "charity in the name of the blessed St. Peter, whose church thou servest." The young girl brought the pilgrim food, and then, according to the custom of the day, kneeling on the earthen floor, she began to bathe his feet. But as she did so, the pilgrim, bending forward, said in a low voice: "Lady, I have great matters to announce to thee, if thou deign to permit me to reveal them." Pilgrims in those days were frequently made the bearers of special messages between distant friends; but this poor young orphan princess could think of no one from whom a message to her might come, Nevertheless, she simply said: "Say on." In the same low tone the beggar continued, "Clovis, King of the Franks, sends thee greeting." The girl looked up now, thoroughly surprised. This beggar must be a madman, she thought. But the eyes of the pilgrim looked at her reassuringly, and he said: "In token whereof, he sendeth thee this ring by me, his confidant and comitatus, Aurelian of Soissons." The Princess Clotilda took, as if in a dream, the ring of transparent jacinth set in solid gold, and asked quietly: "What would the king of the Franks with me?" "The king, my master, hath heard from the holy Bishop Remi and the good priest Ugo of thy beauty and discreetness," replied Aurelian; "and likewise of the sad condition of one who is the daughter of a royal line. He bade me use all my wit to come nigh to thee, and to say that, if it be the will of the gods, he would fain raise thee to his rank by marriage." Those were days of swift and sudden surprises, when kings made up their minds in royal haste, and princesses were not expected to be surprised at whatever they might hear. And so we must not feel surprised to learn that all the dreams of her younger days came into the girl's mind, and that, as the record states, "she accepted the ring with great joy." "Return promptly to thy lord," she said to the messenger, "and bid him, if he would fain unite me to him in marriage, to send messengers without delay to demand me of my uncle, King Gundebald, and let those same messengers take me away in haste, so soon as they shall have obtained permission." For this wise young princess knew that her uncle's word was not to be long depended upon, and she feared, too, that certain advisers at her uncle's court might counsel him to do her harm before the messengers of King Clovis could have conducted her beyond the borders of Burgundy. Aurelian, still in his pilgrim's disguise, for he feared discovery in a hostile country, hastened back to King Clovis, who, the record says, was "pleased with his success and with Clotilda's notion, and at once sent a deputation to Gundebald to demand his niece in marriage." As Clotilda foresaw, her uncle stood in too much dread of this fierce young conqueror of the north to say him nay. And soon in the palace at Lyons, so full of terrible memories to this orphan girl, the courteous Aurelian, now no longer in beggar's rags, but gorgeous in white silk and a flowing sagum, or mantle of vermilion, publicly engaged himself, as the representative of King Clovis, to the Princess Clotilda; and, according to the curious custom of the time, cemented the engagement by giving to the young girl a sou and a denier.[ "Now deliver the princess into our hand, O king," said the messenger, "that we may take her to King Clovis, who waiteth for us even now at Chalons to conclude these nuptials." So, almost before he knew what he was doing, King Gundebald had bidden his niece farewell; and the princess, with her escort of Frankish spears, was rumbling away in a clumsy basterne, or covered ox-wagon, toward the frontier of Burgundy. But the slow-moving ox-wagon by no means suited the impatience of this shrewd young princess. She knew her uncle, the king of Burgundy, too well. When once he was roused to action, he was fierce and furious. "Good Aurelian," she said at length to the king's ambassador, who rode by her side: "if that thou wouldst take me into the presence of thy lord, the king of the Franks, let me descend from this carriage, mount me on horseback, and let us speed hence as fast as we may, for never in this carriage shall I reach the presence of my lord, the king." And none too soon was her advice acted, upon for, the counsellors of King Gundebald, noticing Clotilda's anxiety to be gone, concluded that, after all, they had made a mistake in betrothing her to King Clovis. "Thou shouldst have remembered, my lord," they said, "that thou didst slay Clotilda's father, her mother, and the young princes, her brothers. If Clotilda become powerful, be sure she will avenge the wrong thou hast wrought her." And forthwith the king sent off an armed band, with orders to bring back both the princess and the treasure he had sent with her as her marriage portion. But already the princess and her escort were safely across the Seine, where, in the Campania, or plain-country,—later known as the province of Champagne—she met the king of the Franks. ...The first recorded desire of this beautiful, brave, and devout young maiden, when she found herself safely among the fierce followers of King Clovis, was a request for vengeance.... From the midst of his skin-clad and green-robed guards and nobles, young Clovis—in a [robe] of "crimson and gold, and milk-white silk," and with his yellow hair coiled in a great top- knot on his uncovered head—advanced to meet his bride. "My lord king," said Clotilda, "the bands of the king of Burgundy follow hard upon us to bear me off. Command, I pray thee, that these, my escort, scatter themselves right and left for twoscore miles, and plunder and burn the lands of the king of Burgundy." Probably in no other way could this wise young girl of seventeen have so thoroughly pleased the fierce and warlike young king. He gladly ordered her wishes to be carried out, and the plunderers forthwith departed to carry out the royal command. So her troubles were ended, and this prince and princess,—Hlodo-wig, or Clovis (meaning the "warrior youth"), and Hlodo-hilde, or Clotilda (meaning the "brilliant and noble maid")... were married at Soissons, in the year 493.... The record of their later years has no place in this sketch of the girlhood of Clotilda; but it is one of the most interesting and dramatic of the old time historic stories. The dream of that sad little princess in the old convent at Geneva, "to make her boy-hero a Christian, and to be revenged on the murderer of her parents," was in time fulfilled.

Gregory of Tours: “Clovis” From The History of the Franks (Late 6th Century AD)

He had a first-born son by queen Clotilda, and as his wife wished to consecrate him in baptism, she tried unceasingly to persuade her husband, saying: "The gods you worship are nothing, and they will be unable to help themselves or any one else. For they are graven out of stone or wood or some metal.... But he ought rather to be worshipped who created by his word heaven and earth, the sea and all that in them is out of a state of nothingness, who made the sun shine, and adorned the heavens with stars, who filled the waters with creeping things, the earth with living things and the air with creatures that fly, at whose nod the earth is decked with growing crops, the trees with fruit, the vines with grapes, by whose hand mankind was created, by whose generosity all that creation serves and helps man whom he created as his own." But though the queen said this the spirit of the king was by no means moved to belief, and he said: "It was at the command of our gods that all things were created and came forth, and it is plain that your God has no power and, what is more, he is proven not to belong to the family of the gods." Meantime the faithful queen made her son ready for baptism; she gave command to adorn the church with hangings and curtains, in order that he who could not moved by persuasion might be urged to belief by this mystery. The boy, whom they named Ingomer, died after being baptized, still wearing the white garments in which he became regenerate. At this the king was violently angry, and reproached the queen harshly, saying: " If the boy had been dedicated in the name of my gods he would certainly have lived; but as it is, since he was baptized in the name of your God, he could not live at all." To this the queen said: "I give thanks to the omnipotent God, creator of all, who has judged me not wholly unworthy, that he should deign to take to his kingdom one born from my womb. My soul is not stricken with grief for his sake, because I know that, summoned from this world as he was in his baptismal garments, he will be fed by the vision of God." After this she bore another son, whom she named Chlodomer at baptism; and when he fell sick, the king said: "It is impossible that anything else should happen to him than happened to his brother, namely, that being baptized in the name of your Christ, should die at once." But through the prayers of his mother, and the Lord's command, he became well. The queen did not cease to urge him to recognize the true God and cease worshipping idols. But he could not be influenced in any way to this belief, until at last a war arose with the Alamanni, in which he was driven by necessity to confess what before he had of his free will denied. It came about that as the two armies were fighting fiercely, there was much slaughter, and Clovis's army began to be in danger of destruction. He saw it and raised his eyes to heaven, and with remorse in his heart he burst into tears and cried: "Jesus Christ, whom Clotilda asserts to be the son of the 1iving God, who art said to give aid to those in distress, and to bestow victory on those who hope in thee, I beseech the glory of thy aid, with the vow that if thou wilt grant me victory over these enemies, and I shall know that power which she says that people dedicated in thy name have had from thee, I will believe in thee and be baptized in thy name. For I have invoked my own gods but, as I find, they have withdrawn from aiding me; and therefore I believe that they possess no power, since they do not help those who obey them. I now call upon thee, I desire to believe thee only let me be rescued from my adversaries." And when he said thus, the Alamanni turned their backs, and began to disperse in flight. And when they saw that their king was killed, they submitted to the dominion of Clovis, saying: "Let not the people perish further, we pray; we are yours now." And he stopped the fighting, and after encouraging his men, retired in peace and told the queen how he had had merit to win the victory by calling on the name of Christ. This happened in the fifteenth year of his reign.... [Clovis was baptized upon his return.] At that time the brothers Gundobad [Gundobald, the uncle of Clotilda] and Godegisel were kings of the country about the Rhone and the Saône together with the province of Marseilles. And they, as well as their people belonged to the Arian sect. And since they were fighting with each other, Godegisel, hearing of the victories of King Clovis, sent an embassy to him secretly, saying: "If you will give me aid in attacking my brother, so that I may be able to kill him in battle or drive him from the country, I will pay you every year whatever tribute you yourself wish to impose." Clovis accepted this offer gladly, and promised aid whenever need should ask. And at a time agreed upon he marched his army against Gundobad. On hearing of this, Gundobad, who did not know of his brother's treachery, sent to him, saying: "Come to my assistance, since the Franks are in motion against us and are coming to our country to take it. Therefore let us be united against a nation hostile to us lest because of division we suffer in turn what other peoples have suffered." And the other said: "I will come with my army, and will give you aid." And these three, namely, Clovis against Gundobad and Godegisel, were marching their armies to the same point, and they came with all their warlike equipment to the strong hold named Dijon. And they fought on the river Ouche, and Godegisel joined Clovis, and both armies crushed the people of Gundobad. And he perceived the treachery of his brother, whom he had not suspected, and turned his back and began to flee, hastening along the banks of the Rhone, and he came to the city of Avignon. And Godegisel having won the victory, promised to Clovis a part of his kingdom, and departed quietly and entered Vienne in triumph as if he now held the whole kingdom. King Clovis increased his army further, and set off after Gundobad to drag him from his city and slay him. He heard it, and was terrified, and feared that sudden death would come to him. However he had with him Aridius, a man famed for energy and wisdom, and he sent for him and said: "Difficulties wall me in on every side, and I do not know what to do, because these barbarians have come upon us to slay us and destroy the whole country." To this Aridius answered: "You must soften the fierceness of this man in order not to perish. Now if it is pleasing in your eyes, I will pretend to flee from you and to pass over to his side, and when I come to him, I shall prevent his harming either you or this country. Only be willing to do what he demands of you by my advice, until the Lord in his goodness deigns to make your cause successful." And Gundobad said: "I will do whatever you direct." When he said this, Aridius bade him goodby and departed, and going to King Clovis he said: "Behold I am your humble servant, most pious king, I come to your protection, leaving the wretched Gundobad. And if your goodness condescends to receive me, both you and your children shall have in me a true and faithful servant." Clovis received him very readily, and kept him by him, for he was entertaining in storytelling, ready in counsel, just in judgment, and faithful in what was put in his charge. Then when Clovis with all his army sat around the walls of the city, Aridius said: "O King, if the glory of your loftiness should kindly consent to hear the few words of my lowliness, though you do not need counsel, yet I would utter them with entire faithfulness, and they will be advantageous to you and to the cities through which you purpose to go. Why," said he, "do you keep your army here, when your enemy sits in a very strong place? If you ravage the fields, lay waste the meadows, cut down the vineyards, lay low the oliveyards, and destroy all the produce of the country, you do not, however, succeed in doing him any harm. Send an embassy rather and impose tribute to be paid you every year, so that the country may be safe and you may rule forever over a tributary. And if he refuses, then do whatever pleases you." The king took this advice, and commanded his army to return home. Then he sent an embassy to Gundobad, and ordered him to pay him every year a tribute. And he paid it at once and promised that he would pay it for the future. Later he regained his power, and now contemptuously: refused to pay the promised tribute to king Clovis, and set his army in motion against his brother Godegisel, and shut him up in the city of Vienne and besieged him. And when food began to be lacking for the common people, Godegisel was afraid that the famine would extend to himself, and gave orders that the common people be expelled from the city. When this was done, there was driven out, among the rest, the artisan who had charge of the aqueduct. And he was indignant that he had been cast out from the city with the rest, and went to Gundobad in a rage to inform him how to burst into the city and take vengeance on his brother. Under his guidance an army was led through the aqueduct, and many with iron crowbars went in front, for there was a vent in the aqueduct closed with a great stone, and when this had been pushed away with crowbars, by direction of the artisan, they entered the city, and surprised from the rear the defenders who were shooting arrows from the wall. The trumpet was sounded in the midst of the city, and the besiegers seized the gates, and opened them and entered at the same time, and when the people between these two battle lines were being slain by each army, Godegisel sought refuge in the church of the heretics, and was slain there along with the Arian bishop. Finally the Franks who were with Godegisel gathered in a tower. But Gundobad ordered that no harm should be done to a single one of them, but seized them and sent them in exile to king Alaric at Toulouse, and he slew the Burgundian senators who had conspired with Godegisel. He restored to his own dominion all the region which is now called Burgundy. He established milder laws for the Burgundians lest they should oppress the Romans.... Now Clovis the king said to his people: "I take it very hard that these Arians hold part of the Gauls. Let us go with God's help and conquer them and bring the land under our control. Since these words pleased all, he set his army in motion and made for Poitiers where Alaric was at that time. But since part of the host was passing through Touraine, he issued an edict out of respect to the blessed Martin that no one should take anything from that country except grass for fodder, and water. But one from the army found a poor man's hay and said: "Did not the king order grass only to be taken, nothing else ? And this," said he, " is grass. We shall not be transgressing his command if we take it." And when he had done violence to the poor man and taken his hay by force, the deed came to the king. And quicker than speech the offender was slain by the sword, and the king said: "And where shall our hope of victory be if we offend the blessed Martin ? . It would be better for the army to take nothing else from this country.".... And he made it known to all the army that neither there nor on the way should they spoil any one or take any one's property. There was in these days a man of praiseworthy holiness, the abbot Maxentius, who had become a recluse in his own monastery in Poitou because of his fear of God. We have not put the name of the monastery in this account because the place is called to the present day Cellula sancti Maxentii. And when his monks saw a division of the host approaching the monastery, they prayed to the abbot to come forth from his cell to consult with them. And as he stayed, they were panic-stricken and opened the door and dragged him from his cell. And he hastened boldly to meet the enemy to ask for peace. And one of them drew out his sword to launch a stroke at his head, and when he had raised his hand to his ear it became rigid and the sword fell. And he threw himself at the feet of the blessed man, asking pardon. And the rest of them seeing this returned in great fear to the army, afraid that they should all perish together. The man's arm the holy confessor rubbed with consecrated oil, and made over it the sign of the cross and restored it to soundness. And owing to his protection the monastery remained uninjured.... Meantime king Clovis met with Alaric, king of the Goths, in the plain of Vouillé at the tenth milestone from Poitiers, and while the one army was for fighting at a distance the other tried to come to close combat. And when the Goths had fled as was their custom, king Clovis won the victory by God's aid. He had to help him the son of Sigibert the lame, named Chloderic. This Sigibert was lame from a wound in the leg, received in a battle with the Alemanni near the town of Zulpich. Now when the king had put the Goths to flight and slain king Alaric, two of the enemy suddenly appeared and struck at him with their lances, one on each side. But he was saved from death by the help of his coat of mail as well as by his fast horse. ....When Clovis had spent the winter in Bordeaux and taken all the treasures of Alaric at Toulouse, he went to Angoulême. And the Lord gave him such grace that the walls fell down of their own accord when he gazed at them. Then he drove the Goths out and brought the city under his own dominion. Thereupon after completing his victory he returned to Tours, bringing many gifts to the holy church of the blessed Martin. .... Clovis received an appointment to the consulship from the emperor Anastasius, and in the church of the blessed Martin he clad himself in the purple tunic and chlamys, and placed a diadem on his head. Then he mounted his horse, and in the most generous manner he gave gold and silver as he passed along the way which is between the gate of the entrance [of the church of St. Martin] and the church of the city, scattering it among the people who were there with his own hand, and from that day he was called consul or Augustus. Leaving Tours he went to Paris and there he established the seat of his kingdom. There also Theodoric came to him. Ragnachar was then king at Cambrai, a man so unrestrained in his wantonness that he scarcely had mercy for his own near relatives. He had a counselor Farro, who defiled himself with a like vileness. And it was said that when food, or a gift, or anything whatever was brought to the king, he was wont to say that: it was enough for him and his Farro. And at this thing the Franks were in a great rage. And so it happened that Clovis gave golden armlets and belts, but all only made to resemble gold- for it was bronze gilded so as to deceive-these he gave to Ragnachar's leudes to be invited to attack him. Moreover, when Clovis had set his army in motion against him, and Ragnachar was continually sending spies to get information, on the return of his messengers, he used to ask how strong the force was. And they would answer: is a great sufficiency for you and your Farro." Clovis came and made war on him, and he saw that his army was beaten and prepared to slip away in flight, but was seized by his army, and with his hands tied behind his back, he was taken with Ricchar his brother before Clovis. And Clovis said to him: "Why have you humiliated our family in permitting yourself to be bound? It would have been better for you to die." And raising his ax he dashed it against his head, and he turned to his brother and said: "If you had aided your brother, he would not have been bound" And in the same way he smote him with his ax and killed him. After their death their betrayers perceived that the gold which they had received from the king was false. When they told the king of this, it is said that he answered: " Rightly," said he, " does he receive this kind of gold, who of his own will brings his own master to death;" it ought to suffice them that they were alive and were not put to death, to mourn amid torments the wicked betrayal of their masters. When they heard this, they prayed for mercy, saying it was enough for them if they were allowed to live The kings named above were kinsmen of Clovis, and their brother Rignomer by name, was slain by Clovis' order at the city of Mans. When they were dead Clovis received all their kingdom and treasures And having killed many other kings and his nearest relatives, of whom he was jealous lest they take the kingdom from him, he extended his rule over all the Gauls. However he gathered his people together at one time, it is said, and spoke of the kinsmen whom he had himself destroyed. "Woe to me, who have remained as a stranger among foreigners, and have none of my kinsmen to give me aid if adversity comes." But he said this not because of grief at their death but by way of a ruse, if perchance he should be able to find some one still to kill.

Clovis and the Franks: “Excerpts from the Salic Law” (c. AD 500)

...Title XVII. Concerning Wounds. 1. If any one have wished to kill another person, and the blow have missed, he on whom it was proved shall be sentenced to 2500 denars, which make 63 shillings. 2. If any person have wished to strike another with a poisoned arrow, and the arrow have glanced aside, and it shall be proved on him: he shall be sentenced to 2500 denairs, which make 63 shillings. 3. If any person strike another on the head so that the brain appears, and the three bones which lie above the brain shall project, he shall be sentenced to 1200 denars, which make 30 shillings. 4. But if it shall have been between the ribs or in the stomach, so that the wound appears and reaches to the entrails, he shall be sentenced to 1200 denars — which make 30 shillings — besides five shillings for the physician's pay. 5. If any one shall have struck a man so that blood falls to the floor, and it be proved on him, he shall be sentenced to 600 denars, which make 15 shillings. 6. But if a freeman strike a freeman with his fist so that blood does not flow, be shall be sentenced for each blow — up to 3 blows — to 120 denars, which make 3 shillings.... Title XXX. Concerning Insults.... 4. If any person shall have called another "fox," he shall be sentenced to 3 shillings. 5. If any man shall have called another "hare," he shall be sentenced to 3 shillings. 6. If any man shall have brought it up against another that he have thrown away his shield, and shall not have been able to prove it, he shall be sentenced to 120 denars, which make 3 shillings. 7. If any man shall have called another "spy" or "perjurer," and shall not have been able to prove it, he shall be sentenced to 600 denars, which make 15 shillings.... Title XXXIV. Concerning the Stealing of Fences. 1. If any man shall have cut 3 staves by which a fence is bound or held together, or have stolen or cut the heads of 3 stakes, he shall be sentenced to 600 denars, which make 15 shillings.... Title XLI. Concerning the Murder of Free Men. 1. If any one shall have killed a free Frank, or a barbarian living under the Salic law, and it have been proved on him, he shall be sentenced to 8000 denars. 2. But if he shall have thrown him into a well or into the water, or shall have covered him with branches or anything else, to conceal him, he shall be sentenced to 24000 denars, which make 600 shillings. 3. But if any one has slain a man who is in the service of the king, he shall be sentenced to 24000 denars, which make 600 shillings. 4. But if he have put him in tlie water or in a well, and covered him with anything to conceal him, he shall be sentenced to 72000 denars, which make 1800 shillings. 5. If any one have slain a Roman who eats in the king's palace, and it have been proved on him, he shall be sentenced to 12000 denars, which make 300 shillings. 6. But if the Roman shall not have been a landed proprietor and table companion of the king, he who killed him shall be sentenced to 4000 denars, which make 100 shillings. 7. But if he shall have killed a Roman who was obliged to pay tribute, he sliall be sentenced to 63 shillings. 9. If any one have thrown a free man into a well, and he have escaped alive, he (the criminal) shall be sentenced to 4000 denars, which make 100 shillings.... Title XLVI. Concerning Transfers of Property. 1. The observance shall be that the Thunginus or Centenarius shall call together a "Thing," and shall have his shield in the "Thing," and shall demand three men as witnesses for each of the three transactions. He (the owner of the land to be transferred) shall seek a man who has no connection with himself, and shall throw a stalk into his lap. And to him into whose lap he has thrown the stalk he shall tell, concerning his property, how much of it — or whether the whole or a half — he wishes to give. He in whose lap he threw the stalk shall remain in his (the owner's) house, and shall collect three or more guests, and shall have the property — as much as is given him — in his power. And, afterwards, he to whom that property is entrusted shall discuss all these things with the witnesses collected afterwards, either before the king or in the regular "Thing," he shall give the property up to him for whom it was intended. He shall take the stalk in the "Thing," and, before 12 months are over, shall throw it into the lap of him whom the owner has named heir; and he shall restore not more nor less, but exactly as much as was entrusted to him....

Title LVII. Concerning the "Chrenecruda." 1. If any one have killed a man, and, having given up all his property, has not enough to comply with the full terms of the law, he shall present 12 sworn witnesses to the effect that, neither above the earth nor under it, has he any more property than he has already given. And he shall afterwards go into his house, and shall collect in his hand dust from the four corners of it, and shall afterwards stand upon the threshold, looking inwards into the house. And then, with his left hand, he shall throw over his shoulder some of that dust on the nearest relative that he has. But if his father and (his father's) brothers have already paid, he shall then throw that dust on their (the brothers') children — that is, over three (relatives) who are nearest on the father's and three on the mother's side. And after that, in his shirt, without girdle and without shoes, a staff in his hand, he shall spring over the hedge. And then those three shall pay half of what is lacking of the compounding money or the legal fine; that is, those others who are descended in the paternal line shall do this. 2. But if there be one of those relatives who has not enough to pay his whole indebtedness, he, the poorer one, shall in turn throw the "chrenecruda" on him of them who has the most, so that he shall pay the whole fine. 3. But if he also have not enough to pay the whole, then he who has charge of the murderer shall bring him before the "Thing," and afterwards to 4 Things, in order that they (his friends) may take him under their protection. And if no one have taken him under his protection — that is, so as to redeem him for what he can not pay — then he shall have to atone with his life. Title LIX. Concerning private Property. 1. If any man die and leave no sons, if the father and mother survive, they shall inherit. 3. If the father and mother do not survive, and he leave brothers or sisters, they shall inherit. 3. But if there are none, the sisters of the father shall inherit. 4. But if there are no sisters of the father, the sisters of the mother shall claim that inheritance. 5. If there are none of these, the nearest relatives on the father's side shall succeed to that inheritance. 6. But of Salic land no portion of the inheritance shall come to a woman: but the whole inheritance of the land shall come to the male sex....

Charles Morris: “Alboin and Rosamond” From Historical Tales: German (AD 1893)

OF THE Teutonic invaders of Italy none are invested with more interest than the Lombards,—the Long Beards, to give them their original title. Legend yields us the story of their origin, a story of interest enough to repeat. A famine had been caused in Denmark by a great flood, and the people, to avoid danger of starvation, had resolved to put all the old men and women to death, in order to save the food for the young and strong. This radical proposition was set aside through the advice of a wise woman, named Gambara, who suggested that lots should be drawn for the migration of a third of the population. Her counsel was taken and the migration began, under the leadership of her two sons. These migrants wore beards of prodigious length, whence their subsequent name. They first entered the land of the Vandals, who refused them permission to settle. This was a question to be decided at sword's point, and war was declared. Both sides appealed to the gods for aid, Gambara praying to Freya, while the Vandals invoked Odin, who answered that he would grant the victory to the party he should first behold at the dawn of the coming day. The day came. The sun rose. In front of the Danish host were stationed their women, who had loosened their long hair, and let it hang down over [20] their faces. "Who are these with long beards?" demanded Odin, on seeing these Danish amazons. This settled the question of victory, and also gave the invaders a new name, that of Longobardi,—due, in this legend, to the long hair of the women instead of the long beards of the men. There are other legends, but none worth repeating. The story of their king Alboin, [however, is worth the telling.].... In his visit to the court of Turisend, Alboin had seen and fallen in love with Rosamond, the beautiful daughter of Cunimund. He now demanded her hand in marriage, and as it was scornfully refused him, he revenged himself by winning her honor through force and stratagem. War broke out in consequence, and the Gepidæ were conquered, Rosamond falling to Alboin as part of the trophies of victory. We are told that in this war Alboin sought the aid of Bacan, chagan of the Avars, promising him half the spoil and all the land of the Gepidæ in case of victory. He added to this a promise of the realm of the Longobardi, in case he should succeed in winning for them a new home in Italy, which country he proposed to invade. About fifteen years before, some of his subjects had made a warlike expedition to Italy. Their report of its beauty and fertility had kindled a spirit of emulation in the new generation, and inspired the young and warlike king with ambitious hopes. His eloquence added to their desire. He not only described to them in glowing words the land of promise which he hoped to win, but spoke to their senses as well, by producing at the royal banquets the fairest fruits that grew in that garden [22] land of Europe. His efforts were successful. No sooner was his standard erected, and word sent abroad that Italy was his goal, than the Longobardi found their strength augmented by hosts of adventurous youths from the surrounding peoples. Germans, Bulgarians, Scythians, and others joined in ranks, and twenty thousand Saxon warriors, with their wives and children, added to the great host which had flocked to the banners of the already renowned warrior. It was in the year 568 that Alboin, followed by the great multitude of adventurers he had gathered, and by the whole nation of the Longobardi, ascended the Julian Alps, and looked down from their summits on the smiling plains of northern Italy to which his success was thenceforward to give the name of Lombardy, the land of the Longobardi. Four years were spent in war with the Romans, city after city, district after district, falling into the hands of the invaders. The resistance was but feeble, and at length the whole country watered by the Po, with the strong city of Pavia, fell into the hands of Alboin, who divided the conquered lands among his followers, and reduced their former holders to servitude. Alboin made Pavia his capital, and erected strong fortifications to keep out the Burgundians, Franks, and other nations which were troubling his new-gained dominions. This done, he settled down to the enjoyment of the conquest which he had so ably made and so skilfully defended. History tells us that the Longobardi cultivated [23] their new lands so skilfully that all traces of devastation soon vanished, and the realm grew rich in its productions. Their freemen distinguished themselves from the other German conquerors by laboring to turn the waste and desert tracts into arable soil, while their king, though unceasingly watchful against his enemies, lived among his people with patriarchal simplicity, procuring his supplies from the produce of his farms, and making regular rounds of inspection from one to another..... But now we have to do with Alboin in another aspect,—his domestic relations, his dealings with his wife Rosamond, and the tragic end of all the actors in the drama of real life which we have set out to tell. The Longobardi were barbarians, and Alboin was no better than his people; a strong evidence of which is the fact that he had the skull of Cunimund, his defeated enemy and the father of his wife, set in gold, and used it as a drinking cup at his banquets. Doubtless this brutality stirred revengeful sentiments in the mind of Rosamond. An added instance of barbarian insult converted her outraged feelings into a passion for revenge. Alboin had erected a palace near Verona, one of the cities of his new dominion, and here he celebrated his victories with a grand feast to his companions in arms. Wine flowed freely at the banquet, the king emulating, or exceeding, his guests in the art of imbibing. Heated [24] with his potations, in which he had drained many cups of Rhætian or Falernian wine, he called for the choicest ornament of his sideboard, the gold-mounted skull of Cunimund, and drank its full measure of wine amid the loud plaudits of his drunken guests.

"Fill it again with wine," he cried; "fill it to the brim; carry this goblet to the queen, and tell her that it is my desire and command that she shall rejoice with her father." Rosamond's heart throbbed with grief and rage on hearing this inhuman request. She took the skull in trembling hands, and murmuring in low accents, "Let the will of my lord be obeyed," she touched it to her lips. But in doing so she breathed a silent prayer, and resolved that the unpardonable insult should be washed out in Alboin's blood. If she had ever loved her lord, she felt now for him only the bitterness of hate. She had a friend in the court on whom she could depend, Helmichis, the armor-bearer of the king. She called on him for aid in her revenge, and found him willing but fearful, for he knew too well the great strength and daring spirit of the chief whom he had so often attended in battle. He proposed, therefore, that they should gain the aid of a Lombard of unequalled strength, Peredeus by name. This champion, however, was not easily to be won. The project was broached to him, but the most that could be gained from him was a promise of silence. Failing in this, more shameful methods were em- [25] ployed. Such was Rosamond's passion for revenge that the most extreme measures seemed to her justifiable. Peredeus loved one of the attendants of the queen. Rosamond replaced this frail woman, sacrificed her honor to her vengeance, and then threatened to denounce Peredeus to the king unless he would kill the man who had so bitterly wronged her. Peredeus now consented. He must kill the king or the king would kill him, for he felt that Rosamond was quite capable of carrying out her threat. Having thus obtained the promise of the instruments of her vengeance, the queen waited for a favorable moment to carry out her dark design. The opportunity soon came. The king, heavy with wine, had retired from the table to his afternoon slumbers. Rosamond, affecting solicitude for his health and repose, dismissed his attendants, closed the palace gates, and then, seeking her spouse, lulled him to rest by her tender caresses. Finding that he slumbered, she unbolted the chamber door, and urged her confederates to the instant performance of the deed of blood. They entered the room with stealthy tread, but the quick senses of the warrior took the alarm, he opened his eyes, saw two armed men advancing upon him, and sprang from his couch. His sword hung beside him, and he attempted to draw it, but the cunning hand of Rosamond had fastened it securely in the scabbard. The only weapon remaining was a small foot-stool. This he used with vigor, but it could not long [26] protect him from the spears of his assailants, and he quickly fell dead beneath their blows. His body was buried beneath the stairway of the palace, and thus tragically ended the career of the founder of the kingdom of Lombardy.

But the story of Rosamond's life is not yet at an end. The death of Alboin was followed by another tragic event, which brought her guilty career to a violent termination. The wily queen had not failed to prepare for the disturbances which might follow the death of the king. The murder of Alboin was immediately followed by her marriage with Helmichis, whose ambition looked to no less a prize than the throne of Lombardy. The queen was surrounded by a band of faithful Gepidæ, with whose aid she seized the palace and made herself mistress of Verona, the Lombard chiefs flying in alarm. But the assassination of the king who had so often led them to victory filled the Longobardi with indignation, the chiefs mustered their bands and led them against the stronghold of the guilty couple, and they in their turn, were forced to fly for their lives. Helmichis and Rosamond, with her daughter, her faithful Gepidæ, and the spoils of the palace, took ship down the Adige and the Po, and were transported in a Greek vessel to the port of Ravenna, where they hoped to find shelter and safety. Longinus, the Greek governor of Ravenna, gave willing refuge to the fugitives, the more so as the great beauty of Rosamond filled him with admiration. She had not been long there, indeed, before [27] he offered her his hand in marriage. Rosamond, moved by ambition or a return of his love, accepted his offer. There was, it is true, an obstacle in the way. She was already provided with a husband. But the barbarian queen had learned the art of getting rid of inconvenient husbands. Having, perhaps, grown to detest the tool of her revenge, now that the purpose of her marriage with him had failed, she set herself to the task of disposing of Helmichis, this time using the cup instead of the sword. As Helmichis left the bath he received a wine-cup from the hands of his treacherous wife, and lifted it to his lips. But no sooner had he tasted the liquor, and felt the shock that it gave his system, than he knew that he was poisoned. Death, a speedy death, was in his veins, but he had life enough left for revenge. Seizing his dagger, he pressed it to the breast of Rosamond, and by threats of instant death compelled her to drain the remainder of the cup. In a few minutes both the guilty partners in the death of Alboin had breathed their last. When Longinus was, at a later moment, summoned into the room, it was to find his late guests both dead upon the floor. The poison had faithfully done its work. Thus ended a historic tragedy than which the stage possesses few of more striking dramatic interest and opportunities for histrionic effect.

John S. C. Abbot: “Wamba of Spain” From The Romance of Spanish History (AD 1869)

Tulga [Gothic king of Spain]... ascended the throne, in 640. He proved so inefficient, allowing the laws to be broken with impunity, that, after disgracing the throne for two years, the nobles shut him up in a monastery, and placed the sceptre in the hands of Chindaswind, a stern old man, who, with a mailed hand, boxed all insubordination into pliant obedience. His authority became so indisputable, and the terror of his arm so great, that he was enabled to associate his son, Receswind, with him in the royal dignity, and to transmit to him the crown. The Gothic nobles, proud of their independence, and of their right of electing their sovereigns, were alarmed by this advance towards the hereditary transmission of the throne, and rose in revolt. An army was speedily gathered on the north side of the Pyrenees. They crossed the mountains, but soon meeting the king's troops, they were dispersed, and almost annihilated. Thus the opposition to the royal authority was crushed. Receswind proved a worthy prince, and seems to have been a man of piety. The temptation was very great for the sovereign to avail himself of his position in acquiring vast wealth to transmit to his children. The clergy issued a decree, which the king sanctioned, that thenceforth all the wealth acquired by the king after his accession to the throne should be transmitted, not to his children, but to the crown. Receswind died at an advanced age, in the year 672, and was succeeded by Wamba. The new sovereign was chosen by the electors. The name of Wamba [which means “Big Paunch”] is one of the most illustrious in the annals of the ancient kings of Spain. He was truly a noble in character as in blood. He had already filled many of the most important posts in the State, and, weary of active life, had sought retirement. When informed of his election, he earnestly begged to be excused from accepting the proffered dignity, alleging his advanced age and consequent incapacity for the labors which the responsible post required. The importunity, however, was such that he was virtually compelled to accept the crown. Wamba had hardly taken his seat upon the throne in Toledo ere the Goths, on the other side of the Pyrenees, rose in rebellion, and chose Flavius Paulus, a Greek duke, for their king. They crowned him at Narbonne. Paulus sent the following whimsical letter, as a declaration of war, and a challenge to his Southern rival:

"In the name of the Lord, Flavius Paulus, King of the East, to Wamba, King of the South. Tell me, warrior, lord of woods and friend of rocks, Nast thou ever run through the sharp rocks of uninhabitable mountains? Hast thou ever, like the strongest lion, broken down with thy breast the thickets and trees of the forest? Hast thou ever outstripped the deer in speed, or outleaped the stag, or subdued the devouring bears? Hast thou ever triumphed over the venom of vipers and serpents? If thou hast done all this, hasten unto us, that we may be abundantly regaled with the notes of the nightingale. Wherefore, thou wonderful man, whose courage rises with the occasion, come down to the defiles of the Pyrenees. There thou wilt find the great redresser of wrongs, whom thou canst engage without dishonor." Wamba calmly but resolutely assembled his forces, and marched to encounter Paulus, the vainglorious boaster. He divided his army into three bodies, one of which was conveyed by sea, and the other two proceeded by different land-routes towards the Pyrenees. Crushing all opposition before him, he advanced to the very walls of Narbonne. Paulus, humiliated by defeat, left a portion of his troops to defend the city and fled to Nismes, there to make his last stand. Duke Wittimer was intrusted with the defense of Narbonne. The royal troops, with Gothic ferocity, speedily scaled the walls of the city, cut down all opposition, and the streets ran red with blood. Wittimer, having been seized in a church, to which he had fled as a sanctuary, was publicly scourged as a rebel. Narbonne being thus reduced, the monarch advanced, with determined strides, to Nismes. Here Paulus was strongly intrenched with the bravest of his troops. The assault was terrible, but for a whole day no impression could be made upon the defenses. As night came, both besiegers and besieged, still grasping their arms, threw themselves upon the ground for repose. With the earliest dawn of the morning the strife was renewed. Paulus, who, notwithstanding his braggart spirit, was by no means a coward, viewed from a tower the dense columns of the enemy preparing for the assault. With the following harangue he endeavored to animate his desponding troops: "Old Wamba has triumphed only where he met little resistance. He finds that be has now to deal with solid walls, and with hearts still more impregnable than those walls, and he begins to discover big natural cowardice. He has brought his whole force against us. Let us now rush upon them, and destroy the handful of men we see before us, and we can march unopposed from Nismes to Toledo." But the soldiers could not be induced to make a sally. They preferred to fight behind their ramparts, replying to Paulus, "These Goths are no cowards." For five hours the battle raged, the besieged defending themselves with all the fury of despair. But at length the gates were set on fire, the walls scaled, and, after a short but terrific struggle in the streets, the troops of Wamba remained in undisturbed possession of the city. There was but little mercy shown the insurgents. The avenger pursued them everywhere, and the streets were clogged with the gory bodies of the dead. Paulus, in disguise, hid in the immense vaults beneath the amphitheatre. There he crouched, through the long night, enduring pangs more bitter than death. In the morning, Wamba, who had pitched his tent at some distance from the walls, entered the gates, and gave orders that no more blood should be shed. The inhabitants who survived crowded around him in abject submission, imploring pardon. Paulus was discovered, dragged from his retreat, and led into the presence of his conqueror. His courage had now vanished entirely, and, in utter humiliation, he prostrated himself at the feet of Wamba, pleading for life. "Thy life and those of thy companions," said Wamba, " I have promised to spare, though ye deserve not the indulgence." He then condemned Paulus and his surviving generals to have their heads shaven, and to be consigned to perpetual confinement in one of the monasteries of Toledo. After devoting some time to the reparation of the ruins of Nismes, and having pacified the whole of Gothic Gaul, deposing some governors and appointing others, Wamba returned to Toledo. His entrance into his capital was in imitation of the old Roman triumphs. A large number of captives preceded him, their chins and heads shaven, their feet bare, and clothed in the coarsest garments, made of camel's hair. Paulus occupied a conspicuous position, having a leathern crown placed derisively upon his brow, and being surrounded with mock homage. After enduring for hours the jeers of the populace, and all the mental anguish which insult and contempt could inflict, he was sent to pass the remainder of his days in the cells of a cloister. Tranquillity being thus secured, Wamba devoted all his energies to the promotion of the welfare of his subjects. The prosperity of Spain was greatly advanced during his vigorous and sagacious sway. Education was encouraged, purity of religion countenanced, and all the arts of industry fostered. The foresight of the monarch was so remarkable that, in anticipation of the invasion of the Saracens, he had a large fleet constructed for the defense of the Spanish coasts. The wisdom of this caution was soon manifest. The fleet was just equipped for battle when, in the year 677, a powerful army of the Saracens, crowding one hundred and seventy barques, crossed the Straits of Gibraltar from Africa, and attempted to effect a landing in Spain. These fierce barbarians, called Arabs in their Oriental haunts, but taking the name of Saracens and Moors in Europe, had already overrun nearly the whole of Northern Africa, holding many nations in subjection by the terror of their arms. But the fleet of Wamba advanced to meet them, and the wolfish assailants were driven back to Africa with great slaughter. The end of Wamba was curious indeed. [Some in those parts believed that a good means of preparing to meet God in the last hours of one's life was enter monastic life on one's death bed.] Wamba, in the midst of all the vigor of his administration, wielding, with almost unparalleled energy and sagacity the sceptre of empire, had a severe fainting-fit, in which he appeared to all to be dying. In great alarm his friends gathered around him, expecting every moment to see him breathe his last. His head was hastily shorn, the monastic garb placed upon him, and he was invested with all the sacredness of the priesthood. He however revived, and in twenty-four hours was as well as ever.... Wamba, piously inclined, doubtless regarded the event as providential, as indicative of the divine will. We hear no murmurs from his lips. Submissively he entered the cloister, and passed the remainder of his days in solitude, fastings, penance, and prayer.

Anne W. Carroll: “Gregory the Great / The Rise of Islam” From Christ the King: Lord of History (AD 1976)

One of the greatest Popes of the Dark Ages had never even wanted the office. His name was Gregory (he reigned from 590-604), and he had been born into a wealthy Roman family. He had held an iportant position in the Roman government, but he retired to a monastery, where he hoped to spend the rest of his life in prayer and contemplation But Pope Pelagius called him out of the monastery to serve the Church. When Pelagius died, Gregory was chosen to be the new Pope, though he wrote to a firend, “With a sick heart I undertook the burden of this honor.”...

The winter had been brutal to Rome. The Tiber flooded, destroying the grain stores on which the city depended. Weakened by hunger, the people fell victim to a plague whih raged through the city.... Immediately Gregory was faced with the problem of the sick and suffering city. He turned to the mercy of Christ. He organized pilgrimages through the city, calling all those well enough to walk to join him in prayer.... The plague suddenly ceased. Though the plague ended, the problems facing Gregory still seemed overwhelming. Because of the barbarian raids, half the population of Rome had fled or died. Buildings tumbled. Grass grew in the streets. Crime went unpunished. The people turned in desperation to the Church.... Gregory did not let them down. The people were hungry. The Church owned much land because no one else could care for it. Gregory ordered that the surplus crops grown on the land be brought to Rome to feed the hungry people. We still have copies of some of the letters he wrote and so we know that Gregory had to think of everything. He had to tell the overseers what to do with the cows wwho were too old to have calves. He had to tell them what to do with extra tools. He had to make sure that the peasants who lived on the land were treated fairly. If any of them had a complaint, Gregory took care of it himself. The Barbarian Lombards attacked the city. Greogy had to organize a force of armed man and had to show thm where to set up their defenses. Then, knowing that his small army could hold off the Lombards only temporarily, he had to neogtiate with the barbarian leaders.... Gregory was also responsible for the conversion of the barbarians in England [and sent Augustine of Canterbury to evangelize them]... Gregory gave himself a... humble title, which summed up his whole life: Servant of the Servants of God....

The Prophet's Message

No one in the civilized world at the time paid much attention to the warring and disunited tribed of the deserts of Arabia. But in the town of Mecca lived a man named Mohammed. He was a merchant in the caravan trade, was married to a wealthy widdow, and spent much of his time thinking about religious questions. The people of the area were pagans – they worshipped a black stone (called the Black Stone of the Kaaba) and had many gods. But Mohammed had heard snatches of the teachings of Judaism and Christianity. He had unfortunately never heard the total Christian messafe because the any heresies in the Middle East had left non-Christians confused as to what Christianity really was. Nevertheless Mohammed was impressed with the idea of one supreme God, so much so that he rejected all idea of the Trinity and Incarnation, proclaiming that there was one God (“Allah” in his language) who was only one person.

Mohammed believed that he had been instructed by Allah to write his ideas in a book, which he called the Koran. He preached six essential doctrines: one God; angels; three prophets – Abraham, Jesus, and Mohammed, of whom Mohammed was the greatest; belief in the Koran; the rising on the Last Day; and rejection of free will. His religion had six essential duties: recitation of the profession of faith; accepting the formula “there is no God but Allah and Mohammed is His Prophet,” prayers five times daily, the fast in the month of Ramadhan; the pilgrimage to Mecca (to be made once in a person's life); and the holy war against infidels (non-Moslems). His religion was simple and adapted itself to the moral standards of the Arabs; it praised war, teaching that anyone who died fighting infidels would immediately go to paradise; it permitted revenge, an important part of the life of the desert tribes; and it promised a paradise filled with material pleasures. The people of Mecca were not impressed by Mohammed at first; fter four years he had made only fifty converts. So he fled to the city of Medina, whose citizens had shown more interest in his teachings. His flight is called the Hegira, and the year it took place – 622 – is the year 1 in the Moslem calendar.... Gradually Mohammed's influence spread, largely through fear of the growing strength of his army. Eventually even the people of Mecca came to accept him, after he declared the Black Stone of the Kaaba should still be honoured. From the beginning Mohammed was looked upon as a political leader as well as a religious prophet and gradually a feeling of Arab unity came to replace the old dividions and hatreds among the tribes. Thus Mohammed was partly responsible for the formation of a new nation.

The Whirlwind from the Desert

When Mohammed died in 632, many of the Moslems began t lose interest in their religion, since they had only adopted it to avoid attack by Mohammed's raiders. The new religion might have died then, if it had not been for a policy by Mohammed's successor, Abu Bakr, who took the title of Caliph (which means Successor). Abu Bakr declared that anyone who apostacized from Islam would suffer the death penalty. He went from village to village, ruthlessly enforcing his decree. Before long the apostates were all back and new apostasies ceased. This policy was enforced for centuries.... Abu Bakr's successor was the Caliph Omar, who reigned from 634 – 644. Under him began the great Arab conquests. Omar himself was a holy man according to the standards of Islam; he lived a simple life, even after he became a wealthy and powerful ruler. He would sit barefoot in the dusty plaza of his capital city, while riches from conquered countries were laid before him. But though much in Omar can be admired, the guiding principle in his life brought destruction and suffering over most of the civilized world. Said Omar, “It behooves us to devour the Christians and our sons to devour their descendants, so long as any of them remain on the earth.” This bloodthirsty order was unflinchingly obeyed by the Moslem armies, as they rose like a whirlwind out of the desert. [First they engaged the Byzantines in battlle, defeating them at the Battle of Yarmuk River in Syria. Then they moved on to besiege Jerusalem. After four months the Jews and Christians of the Holy City surrendered out of desparation. They moved on to take Persia, and Egypt.] Soon four Moslem armies were on the march to India, where they took the northern half of the country... and set up the Mogul Empire, which endured until the eighteenth century, to China, where they came up to the very gates of the ancient empire and established enduring Moslem rule in what is now Afghanistan and parts of Russia; to Byzantium, where they besieged the city; to the west, roaring across North Africa, and into Spain. Except for one country (Spain), all the lands conquered by Moslems remain Moslem still.

From Anne W. Carroll, Christ the King, Lord of History, Third Edition, Rockford, Illinois: Tan Books, 1976, pp. 129-131, 134-136.

[The invaders varied in their treatment of the conquered peoples. In some cases, fire and sword were the order of the day for anyone who could not convert to Islam. In other cases, however, Jews and Christians were offered a contract of Dhimmitude -they agreed to become protected persons (dhimmis.) It was forbidden for any Moslem to kill a dhimmi, and they were allowed to retain their faiths. However dhimmis were considered second-class citizens. They were restricted from all but the lowest- paying occupations, so that they lived in poverty. They were obliged to pay a protection tax called the jizya. They could have no place in political affairs, were not allowed to ride, wear shoes or sandals, walk on the same side of the road as Moslems, or in some cases walk in Moslem parts of the city. They had to wear identifying clothing (often by eans of a particular colour or a star.) Those who accepted the Islamic faith, however, were usually allowed to integrate fully into society.

H. E Marshall: “Tarik” From The Story of Europe (AD 1920)

So with fanatic zeal and lust of blood and of gold burning in them, the dark-faced horde swept onward. All Persia fell before them, from the Caspian Sea to the Indus. Syria the Holy Land, Armenia, were torn from the Empire. Egypt, too, bowed to the yoke. Yet Constantinople stood firm, and again and yet again the ravening host was rolled back from its walls discomfited. But through the Golden Gate of Constantinople was not the only way of reaching Europe. The Mediterranean lay open to the Moslem ships, and soon the trade routes of the world were in their hands. Throughout the length and breadth of the inland sea they sailed at will. They overran the north of Africa, and the kingdom of the Vandals, which Justinian had reconquered for the Eastern Empire, became another jewel in the caliph's crown. Through Africa the conquering Arab marched until he reached the shores of the Atlantic. There, like some new Alexander, he stood, sighing for more worlds to conquer. Westward lay the barren Outer Sea, the great double continent which lay across its wide waters still unknown and unguessed at. Southward lay the trackless desert. Northward then to Europe the conqueror's eyes were turned. Across the narrrow Straits lay Spain. Since the days when Ataulphus the son of the Wolf had led his followers there (see Chapter I) the power of the Visigoths had spread until [29] at length they held sway over the whole of what is now Spain, and over a great part of southern Gaul as well. For nearly three centuries foreign foes had scarcely touched their borders. Yet the Goths did not prosper. For they were a turbulent people, and the kingdom was nearly always in a state of unrest. Many of their kings died by murder, many were deposed, revolutions were frequent and bloody. Now, instead of uniting against the Moslem danger, they still quarrelled among themselves. A noble named Roderick had usurped the throne. But there were many who hated him, among them the sons of the late king, and a certain Julian, to whom he had done a deadly wrong. The Jews, too, of whom there were many in the land, were ready to revolt, for they were cruelly persecuted. The Arab love of plunder was well known, and it seemed to all these malcontents that it would be well to have their help to depose the hated king, Roderick. The Arabs would come, thought the Visigoths, defeat and depose their king, and, having plundered him to their heart's content, would depart again to their own land. So Count Julian went to the Arab leader and offered to help him if he would but come and free the country from the yoke of the usurper. The Moslems were willing enough, and a young and skilful officer named Tarick was sent to depose King Roderick. He landed at the rocky south-western corner of Europe which, after him, was called Jebal-Tarick, or the rock of Tarick. It is still called by that name, Gibraltar, although the last syllable has fallen away. Upon landing, Tarick fortified his camp, and thus more than twelve hundred years ago began the military history of one of the most famous fortresses of the world. King Roderick hastened to meet Tarick, and not far from the town of Xeres a great fight took place But when the armies [30] drew near to each other, we are told, "the Gothic princes began to spin the web of treason." They, with their followers, deserted and joined the Saracen ranks, and soon the rest of the Gothic army broke and fled in disorder. King Roderick had entered the battle as if he were going to a play, so disdainful was he of the heathen invader. Clad in flowing silken robes, with a jewelled diadem about his brow, he reclined in an ivory car, drawn by milk-white mules. But when he saw the day lost and his soldiers fleeing in rout, he sprang from the car, and leaping upon his fleetest horse, joined the rout. He fled from battle, however, only to meet death in another fashion. For in trying to cross a river, which flowed near the battlefield, he was drowned. The Saracen victory was complete. But instead of being content with their triumph and plunder, as Count Julian and his fellow-conspirators had imagined, the victorious troops marched further and further into Spain. Everywhere towns opened their gates to them. Hardly anywhere did they meet with the slightest resistance, and in a few months the Visigothic kingdom was wiped from the map of Europe. It vanished even as the Ostrogothic kingdom had vanished, and the whole of Spain, save a little strip in the north-west, became a province of the great Mohammedan Empire. But the conquerors were not content with Spain only. They swept on over the Pyrenees, and before long all the south of Gaul was in their hands. Nothing, it seemed, could stay their conquering march. In less than a century and a half the Arabs had built up almost the greatest empire the world has ever seen. Now it appeared as if all Europe might bow the knee to Allah, and pay tribute to the caliph.

Al Maggari: “Tarik's Address to His Soldiers” From The Breath of Perfumes (AD 711)

When Tarik had been informed of the approach of the enemy, he rose in the midst of his companions and, after having glorified God in the highest, he spoke to his soldiers thus: "Oh my warriors, whither would you flee? Behind you is the sea, before you, the enemy. You have left now only the hope of your courage and your constancy. Remember that in this country you are more unfortunate than the orphan seated at the table of the avaricious master. Your enemy is before you, protected by an innumerable army; he has men in abundance, but vou, as your only aid, have your own swords, and, as your only chance for life, such chance as you can snatch from the hands of your enemy. If the absolute want to which you are reduced is prolonged ever so little, if you delay to seize immediate success, your good fortune will vanish, and your enemies, whom your very presence has filled with fear, will take courage. Put far from you the disgrace from which you flee in dreams, and attack this monarch who has left his strongly fortified city to meet you. Here is a splendid opportunity to defeat him, if you will consent to expose yourselves freelv to death. Do not believe that I desire to incite you to face dangers which I shall refuse to share with you. In the attack I myself will be in the fore, where the chance of life is always least. "Remember that if you suffer a few moments in patience, you will afterward enjoy supreme delight. Do not imagine that your fate can be separated from mine, and rest assured that if you fall, I shall perish with you, or avenge you. You have heard that in this country there are a large number of ravishingly beautiful Greek maidens, their graceful forms are draped in sumptuous gowns on which gleam pearls, coral, and purest gold, and they live in the palaces of royal kings. The Commander of True Believers, Alwalid, son of Abdalmelik, has chosen you for this attack from among all his Arab warriors; and he promises that you shall become his comrades and shall hold the rank of kings in this country. Such is his confidence in your intrepidity. The one fruit which he desires to obtain from your bravery is that the word of God shall be exalted in this country, and that the true religion shall be established here. The spoils will belong to yourselves. "Remember that I place myself in the front of this glorious charge which I exhort you to make. At the moment when the two armies meet hand to hand, you will see me, never doubt it, seeking out this Roderick, tyrant of his people, challenging him to combat, if God is willing. If I perish after this, I will have had at least the satisfaction of delivering you, and you will easily find among you an experienced hero, to whom you can confidently give the task of directing you. But should I fall before I reach to Roderick, redouble your ardor, force yourselves to the attack and achieve the conquest of this country, in depriving him of life. With him dead, his soldiers will no longer defy you."

From: Charles F. Horne, ed., The Sacred Books and Early Literature of the East, (New York: Parke, Austin, & Lipscomb, 1917), Vol. VI: Medieval Arabia, pp. 241-242.Scanned by Jerome S. Arkenberg, Cal. State Fullerton. The text has been modernized by Prof. Arkenberg. Internet Medieval History Sourcebook, Fordham University, https://sourcebooks.fordham.edu/halsall/source/711Tarik1.asp

John Gibson Lockhart: “The Lamentation of Don Rodrigo” (Early 19th Century AD)

The hosts of Don Rodrigo were scattered in dismay, When lost was the eighth battle, nor heart nor hope had they; He, when he saw the field was lost, and all his hope was flown, He turned him from his flying host and took his way alone.

His horse was bleeding, blind, and lame, he could no farther go, Dismounted, without path or aim, the king stepped to and fro. It was a sight of pity to look on Roderick, For sore athirst and hungry he staggered faint and sick.

All stained and strewed with dust and blood, like to some smouldering brand Pluck'd from the flame, Rodrigo shew'd. His sword was in his hand; But it was hacked into a saw of dark and purple tint; His jewell'd mail had many a flaw, his helmet many a dint.

He climbed unto a hill-top, the highest he could see, Thence all about of that wild route his last long look took he. He saw his royal banners where they lay drenched and torn, He heard the cry of victory, the Arabs' shout of scorn. He look'd for the brave captains that had led the hosts of Spain, But all were fled except the dead, and who could count the slain? Where'er his eye could wander, all bloody was the plain; And while thus he said the tears he shed ran down his checks like rain:

"Last night I was the King of Spain, to-day no king am I; Last night fair castles held my train, to-night where shall I lie; Last night a hundred pages did serve me on the knee, To-night not one I call my own, not one pertains to me.

"O luckless, luckless was the hour, and cursed was the day When I was born to have the power of this great seigniory; Unhappy me that I should live to see the sun go down this night, O Death, why now so slow art thou, why fearest thou to smite?

[Not all of Spain was conquered – some like Pelayo were able keep a small strip in Spanish hands.]

Charles Morris: “The Cave of Covadonga” From Historical Tales: Spanish (AD 1898)

[60] TARIK landed in Spain in April, 711. So rapid were the Arabs in conquest that in two years from that date nearly the whole peninsula was in their hands. Not quite all, or history might have another story to relate. In a remote province of the once proud kingdom—a rugged northwest corner—a few of its fugitive sons remained in freedom, left alone by the Arabs partly through scorn, partly on account of the rude and difficult character of their place of refuge. The conquerors despised them, yet this slender group was to form the basis of the Spain we know to-day, and to expand and spread until the conquerors would be driven from Spanish soil. The Goths had fled in all directions from their conquerors, taking with them such of their valuables as they could carry, some crossing the Pyrenees to France, some hiding in the mountain valleys, some seeking a place of refuge in the Asturias, a rough hill country cut up in all directions by steep, scarped rocks, narrow defiles, deep ravines, and tangled thickets. Here the formidable Moslem cavalry could not pursue them; here no army could deploy; here ten men might defy a hundred. The place was far from inviting to the conquerors, but in it was sown the seed of modern Spain. A motley crew it was that gathered in this rugged [61] region, a medley of fugitives of all ranks and stations,—soldiers, farmers, and artisans; nobles and vassals; bishops and monks; men, women, and children,—brought together by a terror that banished all distinctions of rank and avocation. For a number of years this small band of fugitive Christians, gathered between the mountains and the sea in northwestern Spain, remained quiet, desiring only to be overlooked or disregarded by the conquerors. But in the year 717 a leader came to them, and Spain once more lifted her head in defiance of her invaders. Pelayo, the leader named, is a hero shrouded in mist. Fable surrounds him; a circle of romantic stories have budded from his name. He is to us like his modern namesake, the one battle-ship of Spain, which, during the recent war, wandered up and down the Mediterranean with no object in view that any foreigner could discover. Of the original Pelayo, some who profess to know say that he was of the highest rank,—young, handsome, and heroic, one who had fought under Roderic at the Guadalete, had been held by the Arabs as a hostage at Cordova, and had escaped to his native hills, there to infuse new life and hope into the hearts of the fugitive group. Ibun Hayyan, an Arabian chronicler, gives the following fanciful account of Pelayo and his feeble band. "The commencement of the rebellion happened thus: there remained no city, town, or village in Galicia but what was in the hands of the Moslems with the exception of a steep mountain, on which [62] this Pelayo took refuge with a handful of men. There his followers went on dying through hunger until he saw their numbers reduced to about thirty men and ten women, having no other food for support than the honey which they gathered in the crevices of the rock, which they themselves inhabited like so many bees. However, Pelayo and his men fortified themselves by degrees in the passes of the mountain until the Moslems were made acquainted with their preparations; but, perceiving how few they were, they heeded not the advice given to them, but allowed them to gather strength, saying, 'What are thirty barbarians perched upon a rock? They must inevitably die.' " Die they did not, that feeble relic of Spain on the mountain-side, though long their only care was for shelter and safety. Here Pelayo cheered them, doing his utmost to implant new courage in their fearful hearts. At length the day came when Spain could again assume a defiant attitude, and in the mountain valley of Caggas de Onis Pelayo raised the old Gothic standard and ordered the beating of the drums. Beyond the sound of the long roll went his messengers seeking warriors in valley and glen, and soon his little band had grown to a thousand stalwart men, filled with his spirit and breathing defiance to the Moslem conquerors. That was an eventful day for Spain, in which her crushed people again lifted their heads. It was a varied throng that gathered around Pelayo's banner. Sons of the Goths and the Romans were mingled with descendants of the more ancient [63] Celts and Iberians. Representatives of all the races that had overrun Spain were there gathered, speaking a dozen dialects, yet instinct with a single spirit. From them the modern Spaniard was to come, no longer Gothic or Roman, but a descendant of all the tribes and races that had peopled Spain. Some of them carried the swords and shields they had wielded in the battle of the Guadalete, others brought the rude weapons of the mountaineers. But among them were strong bands and stout hearts, summoned by the drums of Pelayo to the reconquest of Spain. Word soon came to Al Horr, the new emir of Spain, that a handful of Christians were in arms in the mountains of the northwest, and he took instant steps to crush this presumptuous gathering, sending his trusty general Al Kamah with a force that seemed abundant to destroy Pelayo and his rebel band.

Warning of the approach of the Moslem foe was quickly brought to the Spanish leader, who at once left his place of assembly for the cave of Covadonga, a natural fortress in Eastern Asturia, some five miles from Caggas de Onis, which he had selected as a place strikingly adapted to a defensive stand. Here rise three mountain-peaks to a height of nearly four thousand feet, enclosing a small circular valley, across which rushes the swift Diva, a stream issuing from Mount Orandi. At the base of Mount Auseva, the western peak, rises a detached rock, one hundred and seventy feet high, projecting from the mountain in the form of an arch. At a short distance above its foot is visible the celebrated cave or grotto of [64] Covadonga, an opening forty feet wide, twelve feet high, and extending twenty-five feet into the rock. The river sweeps out through a narrow and rocky defile, at whose narrowest part the banks rise in precipitous walls. Down this ravine the stream rushes in rapids and cascades, at one point forming a picturesque waterfall seventy-five feet in height. Only through this straitened path can the cave be reached, and this narrow ravine and the valley within Pelayo proposed to hold with his slender and ill-armed force. Proudly onward came the Moslem captain, full of confidence in his powerful force and despising his handful of opponents. Pelayo drew him on into the narrow river passage by a clever stratagem. He had posted a small force at the mouth of the pass, bidding them to take to flight after a discharge of arrows. His plan worked well, the seeming retreat giving assurance to the Moslems, who rushed forward in pursuit along the narrow ledge that borders the Diva, and soon emerged into the broader path that opens into the valley of Covadonga. They had incautiously entered a cul-de-sac, in which their numbers were of no avail, and where a handful of men could hold an army at bay. A small body of the best armed of the Spaniards occupied the cave, the others being placed in ambush among the chestnut-trees that covered the heights above the Diva. All kept silent until the Moslem advance had emerged into the valley. Then the battle began, one of the most famous conflicts in the whole history of Spain, famous not for the numbers en- [65] gaged, but for the issue involved. The future of Spain dwelt in the hands of that group of patriots. The fight in the valley was sharp, but one- sided. The Moslem arrows rebounded harmlessly from the rocky sides of the cave, whose entrance could be reached only by a ladder, while the Christians, hurling their missiles from their point of vantage into the crowded mass below, punished them so severely that the advance was forced back upon those that crowded the defile in the rear. Al Kamah, finding his army recoiling in dismay and confusion, and discovering too late his error, ordered a retreat; but no sooner had a reverse movement been instituted than the ambushed Christians on the heights began their deadly work, hurling huge stones and fallen trees into the defile, killing the Moslems by hundreds, and choking up the pass until flight became impossible. The panic was complete. From every side the Christians rushed upon the foe. Pelayo, bearing a cross of oak and crying that the Lord was fighting for his people, leaped downward from the cave, followed by his men, who fell with irresistible fury on the foe, forcing them backward under the brow of Mount Auseva, where Al Kamah strove to make a stand. The elements now came to the aid of the Christians, a furious storm arising whose thunders reverberated among the rocks, while lightnings flashed luridly in the eyes of the terrified troops. The rain poured in blinding torrents, and soon the Diva, swollen with the sudden fall, rose into a flood, and swept away many of those who were crowded on its slippery [66] banks. The heavens seemed leagued with the Christians against the Moslem host, whose destruction was so thorough that, if we can credit the chronicles, not a man of the proud army escaped. This is doubtless an exaggeration, but the victory of Pelayo was complete and the first great step in the reconquest of Spain was taken. The year was 717, six years after the landing of the Arabs and the defeat of the Goths. Thus ended perhaps the most decisive battle in the history of Spain. With it new Spain began. The cave of Covadonga is still a place of pilgrimage for the Spanish patriot, a stairway of marble replacing the ladder used by Pelayo and his men. We may tell what followed in a few words. Their terrible defeat cleared the territory of the Austurias of Moslem soldiers. From every side fugitive Christians left their mountain retreats to seek the standard of Pelayo. Soon the patriotic and daring leader had an army under his command, by whom he was chosen king of Christian Spain. The Moslems made no further attack. They were discouraged by their defeat and were engaged in a project for the invasion of Gaul that required their utmost force. Pelayo slowly and cautiously extended his dominions, descending from the mountains into the plains and valleys, and organizing his new kingdom in civil as well as in military affairs. All the men under his control were taught to bear arms, fortifications were built, the ground was planted, and industry revived. Territory which the Moslems had abandoned was occupied, and from a group of sol- [67] diers in a mountain cavern a new nation began to emerge. Pelayo died at Caggas de Onis in the year 737, twenty years after his great victory. After his death the work he had begun was carried forward, until by the year 800 the Spanish dominion had extended over much of Old Castile,—so called from its numerous castles. In a hundred years more it had extended to the borders of New Castile. The work of reconquest was slowly but surely under way.

[The Spanish Visigoths were not the only ones who had to contend with Moslem invaders – the Merovingians had to face them as well.]

Eva March Tappan: “The Do-Nothing Kings” From European Hero Stories (AD 1909)

WHEN King Clovis died, his four sons divided the kingdom among them much as if it had been a farm. Then they quarreled, and a quarrel in those days led to savage fighting. Each ruler intended to get as much as he could, and if any one stood in the way the first thought was, "Kill him." For instance, one of Clovis's sons died, leaving three boys. Queen Clotilda tried to protect the rights of her grandchildren, but two of her sons sent her a sword and a pair of scissors. That meant, "Should you rather have the boys slain or have them lose their long hair?" To lose their long hair would shut them out of the royal family, and Clotilda replied that she would rather see them dead than disgraced. Two of the boys were at once murdered by their uncle. For more than a century, the Frankish kingdom was full of quarrels and fighting. During the following century, a king was always on the throne, but he never ruled; and these sovereigns have been nicknamed the "do-nothing kings." The real rulers were officers called mayors of the palace. The "mayor" was at [39] first only a sort of royal attendant, but several of the kings were children when they came to the throne; therefore the mayors acted as their guardians. For a long while some of the kings were stupid, and some cared only for amusement, and hardly any of them were strong and manly enough to govern. The mayors of the palace were rulers in peace, and as the "do-nothing kings" were of course unable to lead armies, the mayors became also commanders in war. This arrangement suited the Frankish nobles. They were always afraid that their kings would get too much power over them; but as a mayor was chosen from among themselves, it did not seem to trouble them in the least if he became quite as powerful as any king. One of these mayors was named Pepin. He treated the king with the utmost respect, permitted him to live on one of the royal estates, and sent servants to wait on him. When some national festival was to be held, the king was brought to court dressed in most elegant robes and with his long hair floating over his shoulders. He rode in a heavy wagon drawn by oxen and driven by a cowherd. This was according to the ancient custom, and the people would have been displeased to have it altered. He was escorted into the palace and seated upon the throne, and the nobles came to do him honor. He recited a little speech, made up for him beforehand, urging the army to be valiant and to be always ready for service. If ambassadors were to be received, he met them graciously, and said what Mayor Pepin told him to say. Then with all deference he was led to the cart and driven back to the estate upon which he lived. He was free to go on hunting or raising doves or combing his long hair until a figurehead was needed again. When Pepin died, his son Charles [Martel] became mayor.

Eric Wood: “Tours: The Decisive Battle Between Crescent and Cross” From The Book of the Battles (AD 1913)

IT was the eighth century, and the Saracens were over-running Western Europe; the Crescent was everywhere conquering before the Cross. Caliph Abderrahman Ibn Abdillah Alghafeki, governor of Spain, mighty soldier from Africa, conqueror in Europe, led an expedition into Gaul to carry his triumphs farther. The Arabs passed through like a cyclone; and then they met Charles Martel at Tours. Charles, surnamed Martel from the hammer-like blows which his strong arm and his armies inflicted, was Duke of the Franks. And when the Saracen peril became too pressing, and the Christian leaders found themselves helpless to combat it, Charles was called to the command of the Franks. These latter wished to tackle the Saracens at once; Charles advised prudence, telling his followers that in their passage through the country the Saracens had laid the land waste, had dismantled the monasteries of their riches and then given them to the flames; so that at every step they gained in wealth. They had, too, brought with them their families and goods to the intent to settle in the land they were about to conquer. All these were encumbrances, as Charles knew, and he made his preparations as quickly as he could, gathering his irregular army round him, and when all was ready, marching with such haste that he came upon the [19] Saracens between Tours and Poitiers before they expected him. And then, in 732, was fought the Battle of Tours—the trial of strength between the Cross and the Crescent. When Charles appeared, Abderrahman was engaged in storming Tours, intent on carrying out his pillaging and burning policy. Creasy, translating an Arab chronicler, says: "And Abderrahman and other prudent cavaliers saw the disorder of the Moslem troops, who were loaded with spoil; but they did not venture to displease the soldiers by ordering them to abandon everything except their arms and war-horses. Abderrahman trusted in the valour of his soldiers, and in the good fortune which had ever attended him. But such defect of discipline is always fatal to armies. So Abderrahman and his host attacked Tours to gain still more spoil, and they fought against it so fiercely that they stormed the city almost before the eyes of the army that came to save it; and the fury and the cruelty of the Moslems towards the inhabitants were like the fury and cruelty of raging tigers. It was manifest that God's chastisement was sure to follow such excess." Then came the chastisement. The Moslems were a mighty host. Infantry from the conquered land of Spain, and wild, dashing cavalry from the deserts of Africa, veterans in the art of war, fresh from victories which had swelled their heads and filled their coffers, they looked forward to the battle with confidence. Memories of glorious battlefields filled their minds, burning towns marked their path behind them, visions of yet greater conquests rose before them; they were out to carry the Crescent throughout Europe. As for the army of Charles Martel, it was composed of hardy men from the left bank of the Rhine, warriors [20] from among the Franks, who had fought many a sanguine battle with the tribes who opposed the overlordship of the Hammer. Behind them lay the land which the Saracens had come to conquer; before them lay the Moslem army, and farther on, the devastated country through which the infidels had come; and each man knew that if, in the trial of strength, the Arabs won, the future held little good for the soldiers of the Cross. Flushed with past victories, the Moslem hosts went into the fight with a rush, giving Charles no time to make the first attack. The dark-faced, white-robed horsemen from the desert sands swept down upon the serried ranks of Frankish warriors like a tornado. Gleaming scimitars flashed in the sun, swept round and round, and laid many a Frank low; yet still the mass held to its place, and back the Arabs were forced. For six days did the battle thus rage, the solid wall of northmen receiving the charging cavalry at the point of the sword, "standing firm as a wall, and impenetrable as a zone of ice," but nevertheless suffering much themselves from the trampling horses and the masses of African infantry who poured down upon them and sent in their clouds of arrows. For six days neither side gained much advantage; but on the seventh day things changed. That day the Moslems penetrated the Christian ranks, the cavalry hewing their way into the very centre of the army, wielding their scimitars with deadly effect, the footmen whirling their swords round or short-thrusting them, so that Franks fell on all sides. But weight told at last; those warriors from the north were men of iron whose battle- axes crashed through skull and body; and chief among them all was Charles the Hammer. All day the battle raged, but the Moslems [21] could not get right through the soldiers of the Cross; they even began to doubt the issue of the battle, began to fear for the hard-won treasure in the camp. "A false cry arose from their ranks that some of the enemy were plundering the camp; whereupon several squadrons of the Moslem horsemen rode off to protect their tents. But it seemed as if they fled; and all the host was troubled. And while Abderrahman strove to check their tumult, and to lead them back to battle, the warriors of the Franks came round him, and he was pierced through with many spears so that he died. Then all the host lied before the enemy, and many died in the flight." So says the Arab chronicler. It was an ignominious retreat. Their leader slain, their treasure, so it would seem, in peril, their foe pressing hard upon them, the Arabs forgot their valour, forgot their past triumphs, forgot the purpose of their coming; and the retreat turned to a rout. Dismay seized upon their hearts; panic spread through the fleeing ranks; and, losing their heads completely, some of the Arab tribes turned their weapons upon each other. Then the sun went down upon the scene of carnage, and the Franks drew off to wait until the morrow. Morning came. Away in the Moslem camp not a sound was heard. What was happening? Were the Arabs lying low to lure the Franks out? Charles Martel at once sent out spies to reconnoitre. Carefully they made their way to the camp—and lo! it was deserted! Under shelter of the night of the rout, the Saracens, defeated and demoralised, had fled from the field where-on they had left so many of their noblest warriors. The Cross had triumphed over the Crescent; the Hammer had swept down upon the Moslem hosts and stayed their progress through Northern Europe.