The Iron Arrow Head or The Buckler Maiden: A Tale of the Northman Invasion

preparing the fortifications for the defence. Under the physical lash of their foreman, above all intimidated by the fear of the fiery furnace of hell, the serfs a

s, were held ready to be poured over the heads of the enemy; besides a large number of bags

mber of the abbey's serfs and villeins congregated, summoned by the abbot to its defence. Many more, however, took to flight, d

hind the walls of the abbey. The court-yards and galleries of the cloister became by the hour more encumbered with a frightened crowd, whose baggage was piled up high

church-vases, reliquaries, chalices, monstrances, statues, crosses, candelabra, chalice-covers, and other holy utensils wrought in silver or solid gold, and enriched with costly ornaments,-all proceeding from the toil a

le, or to wagons filled with the fodder needed for feeding the large number of horses and other animals that had been crowded within the walls. Two of these conveyances, loaded with hay, and each drawn by a double yok

n in fear of want of provender for them. Have you any tidings of those pagan Nort

the man spoke, a strange smile flitted over his careworn countenance; he cast a sly side-smile upon the load of hay that was heaped up high on the wagons and adde

dily killed to feed the large number of noble Frank

wly drawing nearer, did not venture, despite all insistence on the serfs part, to open the gate of the abbey, and refused admittance even to Savinien's welcome load. In the midst of the altercation between the monk and the serf, there appeared from behind a clump of trees, that rose at a distance from the abbey, a short procession of nuns distinguishable by their black and white robes, as well as by the long veils that covered their faces and that were intended to withdraw

rcy upon us! Our hol

s load, piously dropped down on his knees the moment he saw the mortuary procession, led by the weepful nun, approach. Stepping more

eeing before ravaging wolves. Already our venerable mother in God has succumbe

nk through the wicket "Are those Northman demons so n

few of us managed to throw on our clothes and to flee in all haste with our holy abbess through a gate that opened on the field. But alack! alack! so severe was the shock upon our venerable mother, already enfeebled by disease, that after about a quarter of an hour's march she fainted in our arms,-and imm

to notify the abbot of the misfortune. The body of the deceased mother-superior entered the abbey, together with the nuns who accompanied it, and followed by Savinien's two wagons of hay. The

he latter, led by one of the monks, marched to the parvis of the basilica, followed by the crowd who sang in

eliver us from the Northmans! Lord

behind the officiating prelate. They looked down-cast and pale, and trembled. They repeated the funeral psalms with precipitation and absent-mindedly. The evidence before them of the pirates' being nigh, made the

n grooves, above which rose numerous mausoleums erected to the memory of kings and queens of the stock of Clovis and of Charles Martel. The frightened faces of the monks of St. Denis, the lamentations that they uttered while at work removing the sacred ornaments from the altars, the funeral chants tha

religious character of the ceremony or by the solemnity of the sacred place, these soldiers fastened their licentious glances upon the daughters of the Lord, whose faces they sought to discover across the transparency of their lowered veils. On his knees beside one of these, who, likewise on her knees and her forehead bowed down, seemed steeped in prayer, Sigefred, a captain of the soldiers, made bold to touch the elbow of the

owled Sigefred in an undertone

he skin of iron. For an instant the other soldiers remained dumb with stupefaction, seeking to explain how t

ttempt. "A miracle! The Lord protects the chastity of hi

s. "These nuns are soldiers dressed like women! Treason! To arms!

igne the Buckler Maiden stood there in her battle armor, with her bold face framed in a hair-net of iron mail that replaced her usual casque. "Skoldmo?!" she shouted again, repeating her war-cry. "Up, my virgins!

g themselves of their veils and their monastic robes, and like Shigne

al crypts or embraced the altars-their last refuge. The vault of the church resounded with cries of terror, with hysterical moans, and with invocations to the Supre

he convent of St. Placida. The previous night the Northman warrior maids forced open the doors of the monastery. She saw her opportunity to re

auty, struck the younger of the men with amazement. Their arms were involuntarily stayed in the act of striking the beautiful maids. These, on the contrary, fired by the example of Shigne, who was making havoc among the soldiers with her battle-axe, fought with matchless heroism. The older soldiers, being

ers. The heroine whirled her weapon with such agility and dexterity that every time her battle-axe struck the swords of her two adversaries the sparks were made to fly by the shock of the iron against the steel. During this struggle the sword of one of the soldiers was broken. At the moment when Shigne was about to let

-To me, my

ho still continued the fray under the fretted vaults of the basilica. In vain the heroine called to her companions. Fultrade, who had knelt down beside her in order t

utiful; let us drag her into the crypt

Buckler Maiden, despite the superhuman resistance that she offered, into a cavity that