Historical Tales, Vol. 6 | Page 5

story that the voice of fame whispered into the
ear of Clovis, the first of the long line of Frankish kings. Beautiful she
was, but unfortunate. Grief had marked her for its own. Her father had
been murdered. Her two brothers had shared his fate. Her mother had
been thrown into the Rhone, with a stone around her neck, and
drowned. Her sister Chrona had taken religious vows. She remained
alone, the last of her family, not knowing at what moment she might
share their fate, dwelling almost in exile at Geneva, where her days
were spent in works of charity and piety.
It was to her uncle, Gondebaud, king of the Burgundians, that she owed
these misfortunes. Ambition was their cause. The fierce barbarian, in
whom desire for a throne outweighed all brotherly feeling, had

murdered his brother and seized the throne, leaving of the line of
Chilperic only these two helpless girls, one a nun, the other seemingly a
devotee.
To the ears of Clovis, the king of the Franks, came, as we have said, the
story of the beauty and misfortunes of this Burgundian maiden, a scion
like himself of the royal line of Germany, but an heir to sorrow and
exposed to peril. Clovis was young, unmarried, and ardent of heart. He
craved the love of this famed maiden, if she should be as beautiful as
report said, but wisely wished to satisfy himself in this regard before
making a formal demand for her hand. He could not himself see her.
Royal etiquette forbade that. Nor did he care to rouse Gondebaud's
suspicions by sending an envoy. He therefore adopted more secret
measures, and sent a Roman, named Aurelian, bidding him to seek
Geneva in the guise of a beggar, and to use all his wit to gain sight of
and speech with the fair Clotilde.
Clothed in rags, and bearing his wallet on his back, like a wandering
mendicant, Aurelian set out on his mission, travelling on foot to
Geneva. Clovis had entrusted him with his ring, as proof of his mission,
in case he should deem the maiden worthy to be the bride of his king.
Geneva was duly reached, and the seeming pilgrim, learning where the
princess dwelt, and her habits of Christian charity towards strangers,
sought her dwelling and begged for alms and shelter. Clotilde received
him with all kindness, bade him welcome, and, in pursuance of the
custom of the times, washed his feet.
Aurelian, who had quickly made up his mind as to the beauty, grace,
and wit of the royal maiden, and her fitness to become a king's bride,
bent towards her as she was thus humbly employed, and in a low voice
said,--
"Lady, I have great matters to announce to thee, if thou wilt deign to
grant me secret speech."
Clotilde looked up quickly, and saw deep meaning in his face.
"Surely," she thought, "this is no common beggar."

"Say on," she remarked, in the same cautious tone.
"Clovis, king of the Franks, has sent me to thee," said Aurelian. "If it be
the will of God, he would fain raise thee to his high rank by marriage,
and that thou mayst be satisfied that I am a true messenger, he sendeth
thee this, his ring."
Clotilde joyfully took the ring, her heart beating high with hope and
desire for revenge. Dismissing her attendants, she warmly thanked the
messenger for his caution, and declared that nothing could give her
greater joy than to be bride to Clovis, the great and valorous king who
was bringing all the land of Gaul under his rule.
"Take in payment for thy pains these hundred sous in gold and this ring
of mine," she said. "Return promptly to thy lord. If he would have my
hand in marriage, let him send messengers without delay to demand me
of my uncle Gondebaud; and bid him direct his messengers, as soon as
they obtain permission, to take me away in haste. If they delay, I fear
all will fail. Aridius, my uncle's counsellor, is on his way back from
Constantinople. If he should arrive, and gain my uncle's ear, before I
am gone, all will come to naught. Haste, then, and advise Clovis that
there be no delay."
Aurelian was willing enough to comply with her request, but he met
with obstacles on the way. Starting back in the same disguise in which
he had come, he made all haste towards Orleans, where he dwelt, and
where he hoped to learn the location of the camp of the warlike Clovis.
On nearing this city, he took for travelling companion a poor mendicant,
whom fortune threw in his way, and with whom he journeyed for miles
in the intimacy of the highway. Growing weary as night