THE OPPIDUM.

Two centuries later, the land of Ohet had assumed a new aspect, and its name was changed. It was then called the Valley of Avon.

Beautiful fields, affording pasture to flocks and herds, carpeted the slopes of the bordering hill; while in the vale below ripened harvests of barley and rye. The uplands were still covered with forest, and on all sides wooden houses peeped out from the meadows, with their inclosures of palisades painted in lively colours.

The marshes of the rivulet were drained, and at the summit of the promontory was to be seen cutting the sky the talus of an Oppidum which commanded the valley and the two streams. Its origin was as follows:—

Not long after the invasion of the fair-haired people, the inhabitants of the valley who had fled into the woods had re-appeared, accompanied by a great multitude of men of the same race, and at dawn had fallen with great violence and loud cries upon the strangers.

The latter, not expecting an attack, defended themselves as best they could; but the younger and more active among them assembled on the promontory, where they waited until night. Then they descended noiselessly, crossed the stream, and fell in their turn upon the men of the ancient race, who thought to repossess themselves of the valley. The greater number were asleep; many had dispersed in search of food and plunder. The young fair-haired men massacred a vast number of them, making no distinction between the old inhabitants who had remained in their homes and those who presented themselves as enemies; the women and children alone were spared.

After a council of the elders, and after having consulted the women, it was decided that in order to prevent fresh surprises, and to protect the inhabitants of the valley, they should form a vast camp on the promontory, where in case of alarm the people of the valley of Avon could take refuge with their families, their flocks and herds, provisions and arms, defy every attack, and resume the offensive at the opportune moment.

The summit of the promontory was therefore cleared; every able-bodied man was required to give one day's work in four till the camp was finished; and those of the old inhabitants who had escaped the massacre, as well as the children and women, had to labour without ceasing at the circumvallations. The women prepared food for the workmen, and the children carried earth in baskets or brought branches of trees which were mingled with the earth.

Following exactly the verge of the plateau, the chiefs of the eight tribes settled in the valley marked out the boundary of the camp, its entrances, its defences, the retreat of the elders, the place for the cattle, that of the huts for the families, and lastly the site proper for the erection of the NÉmÈde—the sacred inclosure—the sanctuary of Belen and the dwellings of the Druids.

First, with the aid of strong levers of wood hardened by fire, the stones which obtruded above the level of the plateau were forced out and arranged on the perimeter described; then upon this layer, behind which was heaped coarse gravel mixed with earth, were placed trunks of trees, crosswise, four feet apart. The width of the base was twenty feet. The interval between the trunks was filled with stones, earth, and branches. Then another layer of stones mingled with earth, then three rows of trunks of trees, laid this time lengthwise, bound together with strong bands of green withy, always with gravel between. On this a third layer of stones, more trunks of trees across, overlapping the others, and a topping of gravel, of turf and soil, forming the rampart walk.

Stakes were placed upright, five feet apart, and firmly driven three feet down into the rampart on the outer edge, serving to fix, by means of osier bands, wattled hurdles five feet six inches high, so as to form a continuous parapet pierced with loop-holes.

The rampart rose to a height of five feet. The inclosure completed, the Druids marked out the area allotted to the eight tribes. To each of them was given a circular space of two hundred feet in diameter; the huts were disposed in two rings around the perimeter; in the middle was the paddock for the animals and the hut of the chief.

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Fig. 2.—The Oppidum.

The general view of the camp is given in Fig. 2, with the rampart, the two entrances, the sunk approaches, defended on the other side by a mound raised with the earth excavated to form these approaches, and the eight circles allotted to the tribes; at A, the NÉmÈde and the dwelling of the Druids and Druidesses, surrounded by the sacred inclosure. Wells were sunk in each of the circles of the tribes, and in the inclosure of the NÉmÈde.

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Fig. 3.

Fig. 3 gives the section of the rampart with its terrace-walk, A, for the defenders, and, at intervals, the inclines, B, affording an easy means for ascending to the terrace-walk. The entrances were masked by a mound forming an advanced work, and leaving two ways out along the ramparts. Fig. 4 shows how these entrances were disposed. The two extremities of the rampart were strengthened by a wider embankment, H, affording space for a numerous assemblage of defenders. Here is shown the screen thrown up outside the cutting, and at K the sunken road with its mound, L.

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Fig. 4.

Fig. 5 represents the NÉmÈde, with its inclosure and the dwellings of the Druids.

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Fig. 5.

The camp finished—except the habitations of the tribes, whose site was only marked by circles of stones—a certain number of young men were put to live there, who replaced each other every day. Arriving there at sunset, they remained in the camp until the beginning of the next night. Those of the former inhabitants of the valley who still lived were forbidden to enter the camp on pain of death.

The tribes prospered, enriching themselves with the produce of the earth and with their cattle. Some, having discovered copper ore in the neighbourhood, manufactured arms and utensils. There were also potters who wrought skilfully in clay. At certain periods of the year, merchants brought to the valley stuffs, salt, spices, and even wine in leathern bottles. They took in exchange articles of bronze, skins, cheese, and corn.

The tribes, not having had any fresh attacks to resist during a lengthened period, left off guarding the camp, which was rarely visited except on occasion of certain solemnities and of assemblies convoked by the Druids. The latter lived by themselves, surrounded by their college, within the vast inclosure which they cultivated, and where their sheep and cattle grazed. The ramparts, whose timber work had decayed, had sunk, and presented only a slight elevation. They were overgrown with vegetation in several places. But in the peaceful state in which the tribes were living, no one thought of repairing these defences.

The inhabitants of the valley had been frequently embroiled with the neighbouring tribes, and had often come to blows with them; but peace was soon restored, for none of these groups of tribes cherished the intention of subjugating its neighbours and seizing their territory.

Nevertheless repose was irksome to them, and their youths would often quit the valley in quest of adventures, and to see the world.

About 389 B.C., a great number of men, attracted by the seductive eloquence of a Brenn—a chief elected by certain tribes to command distant expeditions—had quitted their hearths in the hope of amassing wealthy spoils in the southern lands beyond the mountains. Two years having passed away, a small number made their appearance again in the valley; they brought with them gold and costly fabrics, and marvellous were the tales they told of the countries they had traversed, and in which they had been incessantly fighting.

They had seen cities environed by strong stone walls, and filled with magnificent public buildings and sumptuous mansions—richly fertile regions, where the vine and luscious fruits of every kind were cultivated.

Among other results of adventure, it was observed that those who returned from these distant expeditions had lost the habit of peaceful industry; and although more than half their comrades had perished by the way, their dreams were still of battles, and plunder, and adventures. They were idle, insolent, and irascible, and even aspired to a kind of lordship over the peaceable families that lived by industry. The latter had at first joyfully welcomed the unhoped-for return of these warriors; and had listened with admiration to the stories of their prowess and adventures recited around the family hearth; but their imperious bearing, their idleness and boasting, were beginning to become intolerable. Every day saw new quarrels arise, which generally ended in blood. The wives of these heroes were still more insolent than the warriors themselves, and presumed to treat their dependents as slaves, such as were those of the ladies in the countries so gloriously traversed by their husbands.

Things being in this state, the tribes of the valley had been summoned to a meeting in the old camp, according to custom, to deliberate on their common interests, and to endeavour to put an end to feuds. The men always repaired to these assemblies armed; the women used to come bringing food and drink; for these meetings were usually terminated by festivities lasting the whole night.

On the morning of the day appointed, the sound of trumpets re-echoed through the valley, and from every quarter the inhabitants might be seen flocking towards the hill. A wooden bridge had long since been built over the river near the mouth of the rivulet. When the chiefs of the tribes, accompanied by the mass of the people, presented themselves at the bridge, they found it occupied by the warriors, whose ranks had been increased by a large number of young men of the valley, and even other warriors, strangers to the tribes.

"It is at the camp and not here that the people meet," said one of the chiefs; "let us pass over." "You shall not pass," replied one of the warriors, "without listening to the conditions we propose." "We have neither conditions to submit to nor conditions to impose," rejoined the first; "the men of this country are free, and the land is theirs, in the valley and on the mountain; let us pass on!" "It will be by force then," replied the warrior, half unsheathing his sword.

A long-continued cry of indignation followed this defiance, and arms began to glitter in the sun among the crowd like flashes of lightning. The chiefs, however, imposed silence, and held the crowd in check. Then advancing in concert to the entrance of the bridge, one of them spoke thus:—"What do you want? Do you not belong to our tribes? Have you not flocks, and wives, and children born in the valley? What conditions do you aim to impose upon us—us who are your equals? Speak! What can you ask for more than you already possess? What wrongs have been done you? Why bring with you men who are strangers to the country, whom we do not know, and who have no claim to an interest among us?" "Answer him, answer him, Sigild," said all the warriors with one voice. Sigild advanced. He was a handsome young man, a native of the valley, tall and slight, with a mild look, and a beard just appearing; his breast covered with a small bronze cuirass which glittered in the sun: his white arms were bare, and adorned with bracelets of gold. He disdained a helmet, and his blond hair, fastened at the top of his head with a long golden pin, fell down over his back; chases[1] wrought in bright colours covered his legs; his waist was girt with a kind of scarf, which was gracefully thrown back over the shoulder and left arm. A narrow buckler and a sword hung at his side. He smiled, made a sign with his hand as if requesting silence, and said:—"Friends and brethren, we are all free—all of the same blood; we ought to remain united to conquer those who desire to plunder or to enslave us. Consider, however, that you have among you the Élite of the warriors who have conquered powerful nations, and have spread the renown of the Gallic name beyond the mountains. Many have died in battle; but do not those who have returned to you after so many trials, bringing, with them a rich booty and having acquired skill in arms, deserve some consideration from you? Inured to war and always ready to shed their blood, are they not more fitted to defend your hearths than men who have done nothing but tend cattle and till the soil? They do not, however, ask you to keep them in idleness, or to consider them as chiefs or masters; their only wish is to defend you. They know to what extent you are encompassed by rapacious and envious men, who, jealous of the prosperity of your valley, are cherishing the most sinister designs against you. They know this because they have seen many peoples of whose existence you do not dream, though they are close to your borders. Lulled by a prolonged security, you are not in a condition to resist a serious attack. Now these warriors—your relations, your brothers, your friends, of the same blood as yourselves—have been considering with painful anxiety this state of repose in which you are living. They have, therefore, formed the intention—they, as men of war, to occupy the camp, to fortify it effectually, to make it a reliable place of refuge in case of invasion, and to defend themselves in it to the death. Is there any wrong in this? As to these warriors, whom you regard as strangers, they are brethren in arms who have fought side by side with us beyond the mountains, but who no longer finding their abodes on returning to their valleys devastated by marauders, ask an asylum with us. Besides, if they do not belong to your tribes, are they not Gauls like ourselves?

"We have wished to say this to you here, and not in the place of rendezvous itself, in the fear lest our intentions should be misunderstood amid so great a concourse. If our proposals, conceived with a view to the common interest, appear to you just, and if you still persist in holding the assembly on the height above, we will go before you to the camp, and will remain there when you return to your habitations.

"As for us, devoting ourselves to those new functions which we are competent to discharge, we will make of this camp a stronghold impregnable to any enemy that might dare to attack us." A long murmur followed this discourse and the chiefs of the tribes looked wistfully at each other.

The most venerable of them, advancing in his turn replied thus: "Sigild, your words are fair; but the act to which you and your companions are committing yourselves at this moment is insulting, and aims a blow at the liberty of the inhabitants of the valley. You parade before us imaginary dangers, with a view to remaining on that height under the pretext of defending our families, but really in order to separate yourselves from us and act according to your good pleasure. Tell us who will support you and take care of your cattle while you are remaining on the height under arms, waiting for an enemy who perhaps will never make his appearance? Sole masters of the bridge and the two streams, you will be able, if you choose, to debar the inhabitants of the valley from hunting in the woods that extend behind the camp, and from fishing in the waters of the upper stream which furnish the best supply. We shall thus be at your discretion. If the assembly thinks it desirable to strengthen the fortifications of the camp, every inhabitant of the valley will take his share in the work—yourselves with the rest. If it shall be necessary to defend the inclosure, all who are in a condition to bear arms must engage in the defence; for all are equally interested in protecting their families, in repelling an enemy, and not exposing themselves to insult. Come, then, with us to the camp; we will deliberate on all that concerns the interests of the tribes, and you will only have to submit, like ourselves, to the result of our deliberation. As to the new-comers, if they ask for an asylum, you know that it will not be refused them; but they must fulfil the conditions imposed upon foreigners wishing to live among us. Moreover, we shall have to consult the Ovates."

Thrusting back Sigild, who was preparing to give an answer, the first warrior, who had spoken so insolently, advanced to the edge of the bridge in front of the chiefs of the tribes, and putting aside their arms, he said, "No one shall pass; all this parleying is useless; go back to your houses; we will hold the camp."

At these words a thousand voices arose, and in spite of the endeavours of the chiefs to restrain them, the crowd of the men of the valley rushed forward like a torrent. Swords were drawn on both sides, and the clash of arms was mingled with the cries of the two parties. The imprecations of the women dispersed along the shore, and who were urging the men towards the bridge, were heard above the clamour of the multitude. The party that was endeavouring to obstruct the passages recoiled for the moment, with a view to concentrate themselves on the narrowest point; and, as the warriors had crowded together on the bridge to hear what was being said on both sides, and many had even mounted on the wooden parapets, this movement from front to rear threw confusion into the closely-packed mass, and several fell into the river.

At sight of this a shout, followed by an immense burst of laughter, issued from the groups assembled on the shore; and the defenders of the bridge, and those who were advancing to meet them, having no conception of the cause of this laughter, stopped and looked behind them on either side.

But the warriors who had fallen from the bridge into the water, embarrassed by their clothes and shackled by their armour, although able to swim, were being swept down by the current, with a rapidity increased by the swollen state of the river. They were all but engulfed in the rapid torrent. Two boats were fastened to the bank on the valley side; in a moment some of the spectators pushed off in them, and rowing with might and main, and with the help of poles, had soon rescued the half-drowned warriors and brought them to the shore.

Three had lost consciousness; every assistance was afforded them, and the women especially lavished upon them the most assiduous attention.

The result of this episode was the intermingling of the parties; the defenders of the bridge had advanced on the shore as far as the middle of the passage, and were surrounding the handsome Sigild, who, with a smile upon his lips, was answering all the questions addressed to him by reassuring words. He might be seen slightly shrugging his shoulders and shaking his head in graceful fashion. An armed struggle was no longer possible, and the war-cry had been exchanged for laughter. A more compact group, however, consisting of members of the two parties, were keeping up a lively discussion along one of the parapets of the bridge, when one of the inhabitants of the valley, to whom the attention of those surrounding him seemed to be directed, mounted the hand-rail with agility, and, fastening his buckler to his shoulder, plunged into the river.

He soon re-appeared, and swimming with vigour and address, gained a footing on the bank at the base of the promontory.

The hurraing on the opposite shore recommenced; in an instant the two boats were filled by men of the valley, and others crossed swimming, partly aided by the boats, which soon reached the other side. Some vessels towed across conveyed considerable numbers—so many, indeed, that the holders of the bridge saw themselves placed between two hostile bodies, should they persist in their resolution. The laughter was kept up on both sides, and was communicated even to the warriors posted on the passage. The knot of defenders became less and less dense, and if they did not retreat en masse—which would have called forth a fresh burst of hilarity—they were gradually retiring. Soon the platform of the bridge was deserted by all but the surly instigator of the strife, whose insolent words had almost occasioned a sanguinary struggle. He indeed was not laughing; when he saw himself abandoned he threw his sword into the river, and making himself a passage through the crowd, he bent his steps towards the valley. The handsome Sigild, surrounded by the greater part of the warriors, was on his way upwards towards the camp, and the whole multitude was following him.

[1] Chases—a kind of trousers divided down the legs and fastened with bandelets.