Prisoners of Chance

by Randall Parrish

  CHAPTER XXXV

  NIGHT AND THE SAVAGES

  The hours of waiting dragged terribly. We conversed little, all alikenervous, irritable under the strain of our desperate situation. TheJesuit was much in prayer; but Cairnes fell asleep and twisted aboutuneasily, his head pillowed on his arm. I could only pace the rockfloor, harassed by bitter, useless thoughts. What a memory picture itis!--the great bare cavern, with black interior only partially revealedby the gleam of the altar flame; the old savage huddled in his bonds,his baleful eyes glowing in the firelight as he watched every movement;the slender _pere_ close beside him upon his knees, his frayed blackgown rendering more conspicuous the rapt, upraised face, his whitefingers clasping the crucifix; beyond, Cairnes outstretched on the hardstone, his bulky figure motionless but for nervous twitching, his redhair glaring like a spot of paint. I rejoiced that the fellow slept,for he rasped me with his ceaseless, senseless attacks on the RomanChurch. Yet the gentle-voiced priest had tamed his open hatredsomewhat; so before he lay down the sectary sat long in moody silencestaring at the other with glinting eyes, as though fit speech failedhim.

  As the sun sank to the horizon I went forth again upon the platform,waving a blazing signal torch to the expectant groups below. The skyoverhead was blue, but to the north and east, as far as I could see foroverhanging cliff, great masses of black cloud were showing ominously,their ragged edges emitting lightning flashes, although too distant forme to distinguish the thunder. Below, in the valley, the approachingstorm would not yet be visible; but from my aerie I prayed for a darknight, the swift approach of a battle of the elements.

  Arousing Cairnes, who was already awake but lying glowering at theunconscious priest, I despatched him to the jutting platform, withinstructions to keep close watch on all movements in the village. ThenI busied myself with final preparations for our desperate sortie. Theearliest shades of evening would have to be utilized, for then onlycould we hope for a clear path. Before those wild fanatics swarmedupward to their monthly sacrifice, we must traverse that narrow cliffpath and penetrate the tunnel beyond as far as the underground altar.Nowhere between the cave entrance and that spot could I recall anyplace of concealment. Inspired by this necessity, so soon as darknessbegan to blot the mouth of the cave, I bore the priest that way in myarms, although he begged earnestly to be left behind, saying he was auseless burden. The slowly advancing clouds had not yet mounted highenough to obscure the moon, but hung densely massed across half thesky, low thunder echoing among the rocks, and jagged streaks oflightning tearing the gloom asunder. The burly Puritan lay, a blacksilhouette against the silvered rocks, leaning far over, staring downinto the void. As I touched him, he turned his face toward me,pointing below with one hand.

  "We are securely blocked, Master Benteen," he asserted gruffly. "A fitreward for associating with papists."

  "Blocked?" failing to comprehend. "How? Are the savages alreadyastir?"

  "Look for yourself. See yonder; lights are on the pathway as high asthe tree-bridge."

  I dropped upon my knees, clinging to a bowlder, and peered over. Hespoke truth, and my heart rose choking into my throat. Resemblinginnumerable fireflies tiny flames were gleaming along the entire frontof the cliff--torches borne by human hands. Breathless the three of usclung there staring down, each realizing the utter futility of ourefforts at escape, yet none reckless enough to give the thoughtutterance. The Puritan first found speech.

  "The spawn of hell!" he growled savagely, shaking his great fist,remembering the indignities of the altar-house. "Good Lord, deliver usfrom this iniquity; lead us through the waters dry-shod, even as Thoudidst Thy people of old from the land of Egypt."

  "Come," I said, "we must seek whatever hiding-place is within, andtrust God for it."

  The priest looked at me pleadingly, his eyes like stars.

  "I would at such an hour you were of my faith, Monsieur."

  "I might do worse," I admitted, watching intently the lights on thecliff-path, "but it was not the teaching of my childhood. There is onebelow whose prayers are as yours."

  "Madame de Noyan?"

  I bowed my head in gesture of reverence.

  "Yes, Monsieur, and whatever she loves is not far from my heart. Butcome, we have scant time for preparation; no, do not endeavor to walk;your weight is nothing to my arms."

  There was no spot within where, even for a short period, we might hopeto avoid discovery, except the rock gallery. Here, crouching behindthe parapet, we could see without being seen, unless some savagechanced to stray that way. At my order the sullen, psalm-quotingpreacher dragged the helpless old chief priest after him, and so wewent groping forward through the darkness of the short passage, untilwe attained the stone steps. Stumbling blindly upward, our heartsthrobbing in realization of the peril that was closing us in, we flungour bodies flat behind the concealing rocks, peering fearfully forthinto the great deserted chamber. Even amid that lonely silence it wasa sight to chill the heart; and to us, comprehending something of whatit would soon reveal of savage orgy. It was like gazing down into themouth of the Pit. The single touch of color in the drear picture camefrom the crimson drapery hanging over the edge of the raised platform.Seeing all this at one glance my anxious eyes sought the deeper gloomshrouding the tunnel leading toward the entrance. As I stared that waya sudden flash of fierce lightning illumined it. So brilliant it burstforth from the opaque night, I hid my blinded eyes, every nerve of mybody quivering.

  "Great God!" burst forth Cairnes, his voice so close as to startle me."'T is like the end of the world!"

  "Be still," I commanded hastily, pressing him flat, "there they come."

  A dozen flaming torches rounded the rock projection the lightsglistening over the half-naked bodies of the bearers. Saint Andrew! itwas a weird sight, one to strike terror to the soul! With grittedteeth, my heart pounding, I looked out upon it. The leader was apriest, black from head to heel, his face showing devilish in the torchflare, his coarse hair matted high in horrid resemblance to some wildbeast. Behind surged a mob of warriors, women, and children, half-nudebodies striped with red and yellow, a malignant demoniacal crew,yelling and pushing under the flaming lights, rushing tumultuouslyforward to fling themselves prostrate before the altar. It seemed theywould never cease pouring forth from the narrow tunnel, a struggling,gesticulating stream. Behind them lightning played in jagged streaksacross the little patch of sky, and the black smoke of the torchescurled upward to the roof. Their appearance was not human, but that ofdemons incarnate; some ran upon all fours like wolves, gnashing theirteeth and howling; many yelped in fiendish chorus; others brandishedweapons aloft in the yellow flame, or lay, writhing like glisteningsnakes on the rock floor. It was a pandemonium, a babel, anunspeakable hell. To count was impossible, but the great room wasfilled with bodies, and rang with guttural, inarticulate cries. Thebusily flitting priests stirred up the wood until the blaze leapednearly to the roof, mumbling as they worked, the incessant moaning ofthe tribesmen deepening into a weird chant. The frenzied singers leaptinto the air, flinging their limbs about in wild contortion, theirmovements increasing in violence, their grotesquely painted facesbecoming hellish from awakening passion. They became brutes, fiends,whose only thought was cruelty. I saw them strike each other withstone knives, slashing the flesh till blood ran. Heartsick andtrembling, I glanced aside at my companions. The _pere_ lay claspingthe stone, his eyes wide with horror, his countenance death-like;Cairnes was upon his knees, his great hands gripped, staring straightdown like some animal crouching for a spring.

  It was when I turned back, loathing the sight yet unable to resistfacing it, that I beheld for the first time those I sought--Eloise, DeNoyan, and the Queen Naladi. An instant I blinded my eyes withuplifted arm, half believing that the horror had turned my brain, thatall this was vision. Yet, as I ventured to look again, they were therebefore me in the flesh--Naladi all in red, a wondrous figure amid thatspectral glow, tall, straight, with
proud, imperious face, crowned bythe brilliant hair, radiant and sparkling in the flame. Beside herloitered De Noyan, like one who enjoyed a spectacle arranged for hispleasure, his face darkening somewhat as though the sight were notaltogether to his liking, yet debonair and careless, his waxedmoustaches standing forth conspicuous, his fingers in his waist-belt.About the two were ranged a fringe of warriors, their flint-headedspears rising an impenetrable wall, while farther behind, separated andalone, the light of the fire barely revealing her presence, stoodEloise, a savage guard on either side of her. I caught the outline ofher face, imprinted with horror, the lips moving as if in supplication;then I perceived something else--_her hands were bound_! Smothering anoath, I crept back to the pile of weapons in the corner, gripped awar-club, and, returning as silently, thrust a second into theunconscious hands of Cairnes. Our eyes met, the sectary noddinggrimly, his jaws set like a steel trap. If need should arise we woulddie fighting like cornered rats.

  Their yells reverberating to the vaulted roof, the smoking torchesgyrating wildly above them, the throng of crazed fanatics were now upontheir feet, crowding toward the platform, every tongue clamoring inincessant demand. All was confusion, a medley of noise and motion,tossing arms, and painted faces. Finally, I caught a glimpse ofNaladi's red robe scarcely ten feet away, and behind her thecountenance of De Noyan, still contemptuously smiling at that shriekingrabble. God! my face burned, my grasp tightened on the club. Yet Ilay motionless, knowing well the time of sacrifice was not yet.

  The woman stood at the edge of the rock platform, gazing intently down,a silent, motionless statue, her red robe sweeping to her feet, andbelow her the crimson drapery; the flaring torches in the hands of herbarbaric followers cast their light full upon her. I stared at thestrange creature, comprehending something of the power of passion suchas she could exercise over De Noyan, causing him to forget all honor inher presence. Saint Andrew! she was a witch, a hell-cat, whose smilewas death. Ay! and she was smiling then, a smile of cruel, unrelentingtriumph, gazing down upon the howling slaves who should do herpleasure. She knew them well, every superstition, every wild impulse,and she played contemptuously on their savagery. Not fear, butcommand, was stamped upon her features; she ruled by legerdemain, bylie and trick, and she stood, the supreme she-devil, the master spiritin that raging hell. It seemed to me my heart would burst as I waited,seeing nothing then of Eloise amid the crush, and compelled to gaze onthat dominant scarlet figure.

  The woman gazing intently down, her red robe sweeping toher feet; below the flaring torches in the hands of her barbaricfollowers cast their light full upon her.]

  The cries of the multitude ceased, and a black-draped priest shoutedunintelligible words. Naladi listened, extending one hand. Then herthin lips spoke a single sentence in the sharp tone of command.Instantly burst forth a fierce roar of disapproval; war-clubs poundedthe floor, spears rattled as they were brandished overhead, while abovethe din I caught, again and again, the shriek, "_Francais_!_Francais_!" The Queen shook her head, her fair face darkening, andglanced aside into the questioning eyes of De Noyan. Below them thetumult increased, the mass surging forward and staring upward, everyvoice yelping that one term of hate, "_Francais_!" There was nodoubting the dread menace--they were demanding French victims for thetorture of sacrifice; they clamored for white blood with which tosprinkle the altar. I could dimly perceive now a dozen crouchingslaves against the farther wall, the whites of their eyes showing interror, and--oh, God!--there, to the right of them, alone, except forher burly guards, kneeling on the rock floor, with face hidden in herhands, was Eloise. I half rose to my feet, my whole body pulsatingwith agony. What was to be the ending? What was that mad woman'spurpose? Could she control the fierce blood-lust of those savagefanatics? If she cared to do so, would she dare test her power in sodesperate a game? If one must be sacrificed which would she spare, DeNoyan or his hapless wife? Looking at her, cold, cynical, lustful, hereyes still turned on his face, I felt no doubt. Let the foul fiendchoose! by all the gods, Cairnes should brain her where she stood, and,Heaven helping me to do the deed, the one I loved should never die bytorture!

  She took her own time for decision, indifferently ignoring the howls ofrage, her thin lips curling in contemptuous smile, her glance yet uponthe startled Chevalier. Laying her hand upon his sleeve, she said inFrench:

  "You hear the wolves howl, Monsieur? They are mad for French blood."

  He shrugged his shoulders, staring into her expressionless face, thendown upon the surging mob below.

  "Saint Giles! give them sufficient of something else," he replied,striving to pretend indifference, yet with a falter in his voice. "Youpledged us safety if we would accompany you here."

  "I pledged _you_ safety, Monsieur," she corrected haughtily. "I gaveno word of promise as to others. Yet circumstances have changed. Isupposed then we had enough of victims to appease even such blood-lustas yelps yonder."

  "You mean the preacher and Benteen?"

  "Ay; they would suffice, with plenty of slaves for good measure. Butnow, only two remain from which to choose. _Sacre_! there are timeswhen those dogs break away even from my control, and mock me. I knownot now whether one alone will glut their desire, yet I am of a mind totry the experiment before the wolves drag me to hell also. Heard youever such yelping of wild beasts?"

  "You would sacrifice me?" his face whitening from horror. "You wouldgive me to the knife and fire? _Mon Dieu_! is this the end of all yourvows?"

  She smiled, a cold, cruel smile, her eyes burning.

  "I did not say you," tauntingly. "There is another here."

  He drew away from her grasp, lips ashen, eyes unbelieving.

  "Eloise! _Mon Dieu_! not Eloise?"

  "And if not Eloise, what then, Monsieur?" The low voice hardened,becoming oddly metallic. "The wolves cry for blood--French blood. Isit your wish to die together? _Pardi_! if it be between you two, am Ito have no choice which one I deliver? Why should you shrink back likea baby at first sight of blood? I thought you a soldier, a man. Didyou not tell me you loved her no longer? did you not swear it with yourlips to mine?"

  He made no response, staring at her with eyes full of unbelief, thehideous uproar clanging about them in ceaseless volume. Naladi's faceflushed with rising anger.

  "Yet you do! _Mon Dieu_, you do!" she panted, the tiger withinbreaking loose. "Your words were a lie! Here, look at me," extendingher arms, the white flesh of her bosom clearly revealed in the partingof her drapery. "Am I such as she? will I shrink like a coward,mumbling prayer and fingering rosary? Am I afraid to work my will? AmI not worth being loved? Am I the kind you think to play with? God'smercy! I am minded to throw you both to the beasts. No, no, not that;you dare not front me! I make my own choice of who shall die and wholive." She laughed mockingly. "Bah! I know your sort, Monsieur--'tisas the wind blows; you love to-day, and forget to-morrow. Yet I keepyou for a plaything--I have no use for her. I care no longer how thewolves tear her dainty limbs. Before this I have tasted vengeance andfound it sweet."

  He shrank before her fury, all conceit and audacity fled, and wordsfailed him. Not even yet could he believe it true, but she permittedno recovery.

  "You think I lie. You think I threaten, but dare not act. You thinkme a soft-hearted fool because I listened to your words of love. Bythe gods! you shall learn better. I have heard love words before; noneever spoke them to my ears without paying the price of deceit. _MonDieu_! and shall you escape? I can hate as well as love; strike aswell as caress. So you played with me, Monsieur? used me to pass adull hour in the wilderness? _Sacre_! 't is now my chance to sportwith you. You forget who I am--I, Naladi, Daughter of the Sun, Queenof the Natchez. Look down! there are hands waiting to rend at my word.I will give them the girl-face for their blood-lust. Seek to stop meif you dare!"

  Never can I forget the expression on De Noyan's face as he listened.Incredulity changed to loathing, then to despair. As though
the womanhad snatched a mask from off her features he gazed now upon the demonsoul revealed in all its hideousness. Instantly all that wasphysically beautiful became loathsome from the foulness within. Heendeavored to speak, to protest, but all his recklessness had desertedhim and he trembled like a leaf. Already the gesticulating priests,thinking themselves cheated of their victims, were half way up the rudesteps of stone; behind them surged the mob, screaming "_Francais_,"their torches waving madly. Naladi laughed.

  "So your nerve fails, Monsieur," she sneered coldly. "'Tis well itdoes, for you need expect no mercy from me. I also hate the French."

  She turned from him, her arms outspread, the crimson drapery extendedlike wings. The glare of a hundred torches reflected on her face, andher lips spoke one word of stern command. Every voice ceased itshowling, every form became motionless, the silence so sudden it waspainful. The woman stood above them, dominant; every eye was fastenedupon her; the priests were prostrate on the stair. I saw De Noyanleaning forward, his teeth clinched, his face death-like. From wall towall Naladi's gaze wandered; once she looked into his eyes, then downagain upon the mob of savages. Like the sharp hiss of a snake a singlesentence leaped from her thin lips. The effect was magical. Iscarcely realized the transformation, so rapidly was it accomplished.Confusion filled the chamber, yet out of the tumult I caught sight ofMadame being driven toward the altar, her white face full of pleading,her hands, now freed, clasping her rosary. De Noyan must have beheldher at the same instant. With shout of rage he leaped recklesslyforward, hurled aside the scarlet figure, and, uttering an oath, sprangon the parapet.

  "By God! you foul fiend of hell!" he screamed madly. "I 'll fight forit; fight like a gentleman of France!"

  I leaped to my feet, Cairnes beside me. Desperate as the chance was,we would be with him on that floor, with him smiting to the death. Yeteven as he poised for the leap downward the woman's scarlet armsstruck, and he went over like a stone, crashing into a huddled heap onthe rock floor. Naladi laughed, leaning far out to look down, like agloating devil.

  "Fight, you poor fool!" she exclaimed in French. "_Sacre_! who struckhardest?"

  Sick, trembling like a frightened child, I dragged the dazed Puritandown again, crouching behind the stones.