The Boy's Book of Heroes

by Helena Peake

Bertrand was the eldest of ten children. Unhappily his excessive ugliness made him an object of dislike to his mother, and she was not nearly so kind to him as she was to her other children. Besides this, he was self-willed and savage, and his temper would break out into fits of violence which terrified his little brothers and sisters, and exposed him to the contempt of the whole household. This rough and repelling exterior, however, only hid for a time a generous nature and a feeling heart, and many were the tears poor Bertrand shed in solitude, for he was too proud to let them be seen, when he rebelled against the harsh treatment he received on account of his ill-behaviour.

One day the lady of La Motte was seated at table in the dining-hall of the castle with her younger sons, Guillaume and Olivier, whilst Bertrand was eating his dinner in a corner apart. It was very sad to know that the eldest son of the family behaved so rudely that his parents would not allow him to take his place at the table. But this day it happened that some chance word of ridicule reached him in his corner, and he arose in fury, and, rushing towards the table, commanded his brothers to make room for him at the upper end, where his place as the eldest child should have been by right. His brothers, surprised at the tone of his voice, obeyed, and his mother suffered him to sit in the highest place; but he had not been there long before his awkward and uncouth manners obliged her to order him to return to his corner. Bertrand arose, and in his rage clenched his hand, and hit the oaken table so hard a blow that it overturned, and emptied the contents of the dishes into the laps of the persons seated around it. This passionate act of course called down a fresh torrent of reproaches on his head. In the midst of all the disorder a lady, who was a frequent visitor at the castle, entered the hall. She asked Bertrand's mother why she was so angry. The lady of La Motte answered her by pointing to her little son, who was now sobbing bitterly in his corner. The lady went up to him, and although he was sullen at first, she soon persuaded him to tell her his sorrows. She invited him to return to the table, and Bertrand, to the astonishment of all who were present, took the dish of peacock which the steward was just bringing into the hall, and a goblet of wine, and served her with them himself, awkwardly it must be confessed, but in a spirit of gratitude for the few kind words she had spoken.

The lady who had thus befriended him was the daughter of a Jewish physician, but with her father had been converted to Christianity. She was reputed to be very clever, and was skilled in an art which was much practised in those days, namely, that of foretelling future events by observing the lines in people's hands, very much in the same manner as gipsies pretend to tell fortunes, even in our own time. After dinner she called Bertrand to her, and attentively examined his face and his hand, and presently told his mother that she ought to be proud of having such a son, instead of despising him, because she was convinced that when he grew up to be a man he would do great things for the glory of his country. From this day his mother looked more kindly upon him; she had him dressed for the first time in a manner suitable to his rank, and commanded the servants to treat him with the respect due to the eldest son of their master.

Bertrand's fiery temper, however, and his love of fighting, were a continual source of trouble and anxiety to his parents. Before he was nine years of age he would often leave the castle without their knowledge, and collect all the children he met with on his way, and then fight them one by one, or try his strength against a number of them together. When he returned home, bleeding, and with torn and soiled garments, his mother would justly reprove him for behaving so little like a gentleman.

At last his fighting propensities increased to such a pitch that the country people complained of him to his father, and the Sire de la Motte was obliged to order a forfeit to be paid by the parents of all children who were found in his company. Nevertheless Bertrand still contrived to get out of the castle secretly, and to lead the little villagers to their mimic battles. His father, as a last resource, shut him up in the dungeon of the castle, and in this dreary place he remained four months. But one evening a maid-servant, whose office it was to bring him his food twice a day, left the door open behind her, and Bertrand managed to slip out, not forgetting in his haste to turn the key upon her, in case she should betray him to his parents. Then he ran as fast as ever he could to a field, unfastened a mare from one of his father's ploughs, mounted it, laughing heartily the while at the ploughman, who was rushing after him, and galloped as far as Rennes, without saddle or bridle, to the house of his aunt, a sister of the Sire de la Motte, who was married to a knight of great honour.

His aunt had often heard of his misconduct at home, and was not at all pleased to see him arrive in such plight. She began scolding him in harsh words, when luckily for him his uncle intervened in his favour, reminding his wife that Bertrand was only a child, and had done nothing yet to forfeit his honour. "He is brave and spirited," said the good knight; "let us keep him in our house, and see if we cannot transform him into a great captain for the glory of Bretagne."

Bertrand remained with his uncle at Rennes until he was sixteen, and learned from him all the accomplishments necessary for a knight. Moreover, he learned to be gentle and courteous to those around him, and in these happier circumstances the good points of his character shone forth, and his violent temper was curbed, whilst his spirit remained free. It is related of him that he was so generous, that when he met with any poor persons, and had no money with him, he would give them some of the very clothes he wore, and if he had only a penny would share it with those who were in need. He found his greatest delight in listening to his uncle's stories of battles and sieges, and when some noble exploit was related, would clap his hands for joy, whilst his eyes shone like fire.

A very great fault, however, still remained to him, and that was his love of fighting. One Sunday it was announced in the city of Rennes that a prize would be given to the youth who should acquit himself best in single combat. Bertrand burned with impatience to enter the lists, and his aunt, fearing the temptation might prove too strong for him, carried him off with her to church, thinking he would certainly be safe there under her vigilant eye. As soon as Bertrand saw that her attention was fully absorbed in listening to the sermon, he took the opportunity of slipping out of church, and ran at full speed to the market-place. Here he was recognised by some of his opponents of former years, but he made them promise not to betray him to his aunt, and was just going to enter the lists, when a young Breton, who had thrown twelve of his competitors to the ground, advanced proudly to claim the prize, which was a hat with feather and silver band.

Bertrand defied him to the combat, and after a long struggle succeeded in overthrowing him; but during the time he had happened to fall on his opponent, and in so doing had cut his knee severely with a stone. This accident caused him so much pain that he could hardly stand, and he begged his comrades to take him to a surgeon's, where his wound could be dressed. The prize was brought to him there, but he dared not accept it, for fear his aunt, of whom he always seems to have had a wholesome dread, should hear of what he had done. She had indeed missed him, and had sought for him everywhere, and she did not spare her reproaches when she discovered the state he was in. Nevertheless she showed him greater kindness than he deserved, and nursed him until he had recovered from his wound.

The knight at last persuaded his father to recall him to the castle of La Motte Bron. Now Bertrand tasted the real joy of home for the first time, for his father was so delighted at the improvement in his character that he no longer withheld his love from him, and every member of the household had a kind word for him; while in former times, when he was so very naughty and unruly, there had only been complaints and reproofs.