ppen that one of these days they may demand to
see the royal mannikin make the tour of the Field of May according to
the old custom.... I do not care, provided I reign. Accordingly, I keep
in reserve for them the child that is here. With the aid of a false
beard on his chin and a crown on his head, the little monkey will play
his role in the chariot neither better nor worse than so many other
kings of twelve or fifteen years who preceded him. In case of need, next
year he will be Childeric III, if I think it advisable."

"Kings of twelve!... How low can royalty fall!... How low the
degradation of the people!"

"The stewardship of the palace, a post that became hereditary, came very
near dropping to the same level.... Did I not have a brother of eleven
who was the steward of the palace to a king of ten?"

"You joke, Charles!"

"No, indeed, I do not, because those days were far from pleasant for
me.... My step-mother, Plectrude, had me cast into prison after the
death of my father Pepin of Heristal.... According to the dame, I was
only a bastard, good either for the gibbet or the priest's frock, while
my father left to my brother Theobald the post of steward of the palace;
hereditary in our family.... And so it happened that my brother, then
only eleven, became the steward of the palace of the then king, who was
only ten, and who became the grandfather of this little Childeric, who
is a prisoner in this convent. That king and steward could exercise no
rivalry over each other except at tops or huckle-bones. Thus the good
dame Plectrude expected to rule in the place of the two urchins, while
they would be at play. Such audacity and folly aroused the Frankish
seigneurs. At the end of a few years Plectrude was driven away with her
son, while I, Charles, for whom she had only bad names, came out of
prison, and now became steward of the palace of Dagobert III. Since then
I have made so much noise in the world, hammering here and yonder upon
the heads of Saxons, Frisians and Saracens, that the name of Martel has
stuck to me. Dagobert III left a son, Thierry IV, who died eighteen
months ago, and he was the father of little Childeric, the prisoner of
this place. While having to cross the region, I wished to pay a visit to
the royal brat and learn how he stood his captivity. I said I had a
token of confidence to give.... I confide to you the keeping of that
child, the last scion of the stock of Clovis, of the Merovingian
conque