And by virtue of this benediction the phantom once more became a man.
“Morvan,” said the hermit, “you must do penance, heavy penance, with me. You must carry about with you for seven years a robe of lead, padlocked to your neck, and each day at the hour of twelve you must go to fetch water from the well at the summit of the mountain yonder.”
“I will do as you desire,” said Morvan; “I will follow your saintly wish.”
When the seven years of the penance had passed the robe had flayed Morvan’s skin severely, and his beard, which had become grey, and the hair of his head, fell almost to his waist. Those who saw him did not recognize him; but a lady dressed in white, who passed 224 through the greenwood, stopped and gazed earnestly at him and her eyes filled with tears.
“Morvan, my dear son, it is indeed you,” she said. “Come here, my beloved child, that I may free you of your burden,” and she cut the chain which bound the shirt of lead to the shoulders of the penitent with a pair of golden scissors, saying:
“I am your patron, Saint Anne of Armor.”
Now for seven years had the squire of Morvan sought his master, and one day he was riding through the greenwood of Helléan.
“Alas!” he said, “what profits it that I have slain his murderer when I have lost my dear lord?”
Then he heard at the other end of the wood the plaintive whinnying of a horse. His own steed sniffed the air and replied, and then he saw between the parted branches a great black charger, which he recognized as that of Lez-Breiz. Once more the beast whinnied mournfully. It almost seemed as if he wept. He was standing upon his master’s grave!
But, like Arthur and Barbarossa, Morvan Lez-Breiz will yet return. Yes, one day he will return to fight the Franks and drive them from the Breton land!