You are lost if but a word of this adventure circulates at
court. It is from you alone that it can have proceeded. If, on the
contrary, you help me to keep the secret, you may rely upon increasing
favors from me."

"August Emperor, I shall carry that secret with me into my grave."

"I rely upon it. Fetch me my horse and my daughter's. You are to
accompany us to the hunting pavilion, and thence to Aix-la-Chapelle. I
will place you in command of the escort that I give these two hostages
to return to their own country. I shall furnish you with an order to the
commander of my army in Brittany. You will start to-morrow, early, with
the escort to the pavilion of the forest, and you will thence depart for
Armorica."

Octave bowed, and the Emperor proceeded, addressing Amael:

"The moon has risen. It sheds sufficient light upon the route. Jump upon
your horse, with your grandson. Follow this avenue of trees until you
reach a clearing. Wait there. You will shortly be sent for. I shall
despatch my messengers to take you to the pavilion, where you are to
stay until your departure early to-morrow morning. And now, Adieu!"

Amael returned to his grandson, whom he found in a deep study, seated on
the stump of a tree that bordered the route. The lad was silently
weeping with his face hidden in his hands, and heard not the steps of
his grandfather approaching him.

"Come, my boy," said Amael to him in a mild and grave voice. "Let us to
horse, and depart."

"Depart!" exclaimed Vortigern, with a tremor, rising impetuously to his
feet and wiping with his hand the tears that moistened his face.

"Yes, my boy! To-morrow we start for Brittany, where you will see again
your mother and sister. The nobility of your conduct has borne its
fruit. We are free. Charles recalls his troops from Brittany."

* * * * *

Shortly after our return home from Aix-la-Chapelle, my grandfather,
Amael, wrote the above narrative, which I have faithfully joined to the
preceding ones of our family. Myself, Vortigern, buried my grandfather
not long after at the ripe age of one hundred and five years, shortly
after my own marriage with the loving Josseline. Charles the Great died
at Aix-la-Chapelle in the year 814.

PART II.

THE CONQUEST OF BRITTANY

CHAPTER I.

IN THE BLACK MOUNTAINS.

In the year 818, seven years after Amael and his grandson Vortigern left
the court of Charles, the Emperor of the Fran