TRÉMEUR OR THE HEADLESS MAN
The stone table.
Source
There was once, near Plouguer, there, on the edge of the Aulne river, below Carhaix, a village inhabited by pagans who worshiped gods, demigods, goddesses, devils and a lot of nasty things. I have heard from scholars that their leaders were called Druids. They were magicians or sorcerers who, to know the future, cut mistletoe from oak trees with golden sickles. But, to predict the future, these terrible sorcerers were not content with picking mistletoe, they caused human victims to die on the stone tables, which we still see on our moors, especially Christians, who were their greatest enemies.
At that time, the cross of Our Lord was not yet three hundred years old. You see that my story is older than Methuselah: no matter, old things are worth new, as old Bornik, sacristan and gravedigger of the monastery, said.
The druid, chief of the village of Plouguer, was called Comorre. He had a son, a generous warrior, named Trémeur, who only viewed the ceremonies of these accursed pagans with pity.
One evening, after a battle, prisoners were brought to the village. They were locked in stone caves, at the bottom of which they were chained. That evening, the storm was brewing. However, as he had seen an old man with a long white beard locked up, Trémeur came, at night, to prowl around the cavern and heard a voice saying:
"Lord, take your servant, but let his blood at least serve the conversion of the pagans!"
These words astonished Trémeur, and, knocking down the stone door, he resolutely entered the dungeon. Then he saw the old man on his knees: his hands laden with chains were raised towards the dark vault, and the light of lightning passing between the rocks illuminated at intervals his bald and white forehead.
I cannot tell you what they said to each other. What is certain is that Trémeur broke with his ax the irons that held the captive's hands and that they left the cave together.
The night and the storm could have hidden their escape. Unfortunately, as they were about to leave the village, a druid saw them and, standing in the middle of the path, came to block their way. Trémeur tremblingly recognized Comorre, his terrible father, who, in an angry voice, asked him where he was going.
Trémeur, who knew neither fear nor lies, replied without hesitation:
"Let us pass, Father; my resolution is made: I want to save this innocent old man and become a Christian."
"You, Christian!" cried Comorre in a formidable voice, brandishing his axe. "No! No! By the beard of the great Hu, Christian you will not be!"
And, saying this, he dealt such a violent blow to his son that he cut off his head. — Here is the headless man. — But, as Trémeur was of prodigious strength, he held his head against his chest without flinching. At the same moment, there was a loud clap of thunder; a zigzag of fire passed between our three men, and, if thunder often does harm, this time it struck a good blow because Comorre had received the broadside and no longer moved foot or paw. — That’s going well! — Our two friends did not stay looking at him for long, and took off, the prisoner towing Trémeur, who followed as well as possible, carrying his head on his stomach... It must have been quite funny, all the same, to see him walking a headless man!
Source: Trémeur ou l'homme sans tête from the French book Contes et légendes de Basse-Bretagne published in 1891.
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Hello, my name is Vincent Celier.
I am writing translations of folk tales that I found in public domain French books, so that people who do not understand French may enjoy them too.
In this new tale, we have a man who wants to become a Christian and is decapitated. Then, he takes his own head in his hands.
There are several legends of Christian saints that are cephalophore, which means "head-carrier". The most famous in France is [Denis of Paris].
Our family house in France that my father bought in 1963 is called l'Abbaye du Grand Saint-Denis. So, my father found a small statue of a cephalophore man and it is still there in the dining room.
Yesterday, we celebrated Christmas with the family.
In this picture, from left to right, we have: Chris, Betty's boyfriend, Betty, my second daughter, Faith, Roseline's daughter, Nathaneil, Betty's daughter, (in the back) Cyrus, Roseline's son, myself, and Roseline, my eldest daughter.
-- Vincent Celier