"You have told me more than you think for. Your father's name was Karadeucq."
"How do you know that?"
"The name of your father's father was Jocelyn. If he still lives in Britanny with his elder son Kervan and his daughter Roselyk, he must be inhabiting a house near the sacred stones of Karnak—"
"Who told you—"
"One of your ancestors was named Joel; he was the brenn of the tribe of Karnak. Hena, the saint sung about in the druid chant, was the daughter of Joel, whose family traces its origin back to the Gallic brenn, whom the Romans called Brennus, and who, nearly eight hundred years ago, made them pay ransom for Rome."
"Who are you that you know the history of my family so accurately?"
"That chant of the slaves in revolt against the Romans—'Flow, flow, thou blood of the captive! Drop, drop, thou dew of gore!'—was sung by one of your ancestors named Sylvest, who was cast to the wild beasts in the circus of Orange. And I imagine that your father taught you another thrilling chant, one sung two hundred and odd years ago, on the occasion of one of the great battles fought on the Rhine against the Franks, and won by Victorin, the son of Victoria, the Mother of the Camps—"
"You are right—often did my father sing that chant to me. It began this wise:
" 'This morning we said: How many are there of these barbarous hordes? How many are there of these Franks?' "
"And it closed this wise," replied the monk: