The Cave that Swims on the Water

by Paul Anderson

  The Cave That Swims On The Water

  By Paul Anderson

  Copyright © 1920 by Paul Anderson

  This edition published in 2013 by eStar Books, LLC.

  www.estarbooks.com

  ISBN 9781612106779

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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  The Cave That Swims On The Water

  By Paul Anderson

  CHAPTER I

  FOR SACRIFICE

  “Into your hands, then shall she be delivered. Be you at the great rock by the river, two thousand paces downstream, to-morrow at sunset, and you shall see her come; by her yellow hair may you know her for the one you seek, though in truth no sign is needed, for alone will she come.”

  The speaker was Ta-nu-ko, chief priest of the Ta-an, and the one to whom he spoke was Gur, chieftain of the Little Hairy Men. Fifteen years before, led by T’san-va-men, Lord of the Winged Death, the Ta-an had come to the Land of the Dying Sun and had there made their homes, stretching for miles along a fair valley. During fifteen years had they warred with the Little Hairy Men, and now for the first had one of the Ta-an spoken in peace to one of the olden-time dwellers in that land.

  A strange contrast the two made as they faced each other, concealed in a deep thicket that nestled high above the river, clinging to the face of the hill, for the chief priest was tall and straight, long of limb and smooth of face, with a noble head, albeit his countenance was somewhat marked with lines of selfishness and deceit, whereas Gur was short and squatty, with stooping shoulders and long arms, so that his hands, hanging half-closed, reached nearly to his knees. His face, with broad, low forehead, flattened nose and outward-pointing nostrils, with retreating chin and prominent cheekbones, marked him as one of a race lower than the Ta-an—a race not too far removed from the great apes, the resemblance being heightened by the thin growth of hair that covered his features.

  And even in the garments and weapons of the two men was an equal difference, for Ta-nu-ko, clad in finely worked clothing of leopard’s hide, bore well-chipped ax and dagger of flint beside which those of the Little Hairy Men were rude and ill-formed, and carried also a bow and quiver of arrows, Gur’s chief weapon being a long and heavy club of oak, air-dried and seasoned in the sun. Also, Gur’s sole garment was roughly shaped from the hide of a wild horse, worked and dressed with little skill.

  Seeing the two in converse, none could have doubted that they were of different race; his only wonder would have been that the priest of the Taan should be speaking in friendship with an enemy.

  “At sunset, then, shall A-ta, the Girl of the Mountain Caves, daughter to Ban-tu-v’rai of the Ta-an, come to the Great Rock. Do with her as you will, save only that she must not live.” Both spoke in the same tongue—that of the Little Hairy Men.

  “May I not keep her as my slave, to do my bidding?”

  “As I speak, so shall you do, else A-ta comes not!” flamed the priest, leaning forward with a hard stare, from which Gur shrank back, muttering: “It shall be done!”

  “It is well!” said Ta-nu-ko. “Slay her as you will; young and strong is she, and should make good sport ere her spirit passes into the Long Dark.”

  “It shall be done,” repeated Gur, licking his lips with an evil grin. “I will bind her and flay thongs for my garments from her white skin; soft and tender are the thongs made from the hide of a maiden!”

  And he grinned again in anticipation, while Ta-nu-ko looked at him with a shudder of repulsion, disgusted at the thought of such deliberate cruelty.

  “But tell me, tall man,” went on Gur, “why wish you death for the maiden? Why may I not keep her as a slave, binding her with thongs, watching her, or perchance hewing off her foot, that she may not flee?”

  “Because,” returned the priest, “none can say that she might not escape you, finding her way back to the Ta-an. Menzono-men, Slayer of Wolves, is vowed to the priesthood of the tribe by his parents, and he loves and is loved by A-ta. Should they marry, should he take her to his cave, then is he lost to the priest clan, for by the law of the Ta-an a priest may have no woman.”

  “And can you not claim him, in fulfillment of the vow?”

  Ta-nu-ko shrugged his shoulders, replying: “Were she other than A-ta, yes But T’san-vamen, Great Chieftain of the Ta-an, loves the maiden, to whom he is even as a father. In childhood did he save her from death in a swift stream, and indeed it is in my mind that she is even dearer to him than his own daughter, also that she loves him more than she loves her father. It is his joy to give her pleasure, should she desire Menzono-men she need but speak two words to the chieftain—and who may withstand the Lord of the Winged Death?”

  “Straight are your words.” answered Gur. “ Your will shall be done; sweet will it be to torture a maiden of the Ta-an, watching her writhings and hardening to her screams!”

  Ta-nu-ko shuddered again, but controlled himself, nodded, and turned away, saying: “At sunset, then.” And plunging into the bushes, he disappeared down the slope. Gur stood looking after him, marking his progress by the waving of the brush, and as the priest drew farther and farther toward the river Gur’s evil smile spread wider and wider. At length he chuckled, and muttered to himself.

  “Sweet indeed would it be to torture a maiden of the Ta-an, but sweeter still to keep her as a slave! Then should she labor for me, carrying water, preparing my food, dressing, with her greater skill, the hides of beasts which I slay— perchance even teaching me to bring to life the Red God, that he might warm me in cold and dry me in wet! Also, thus could I beat her each day! And who shall tell this traitor priest that Gur has not obeyed him? And could he harm me did he know? In truth, I will keep the maiden alive!” And grunting and chuckling, shaking his head in glee at the prospect, Gur took his way down the hill in turn, swinging south, then west along the river-bank to a point opposite the great rock, where, after gorging himself on a lump of raw meat, afterward drinking deep from the river, he stretched out in the shadow of an overarching tree to sleep away the long hours between noon and sunset.

  The Ta-an had made their homes along a winding stream, dwelling in the caves and grottoes of steep cliffs that overhung the water, these homes, stretching for some six or eight hundred paces along the twists and turns of the river-bed, and to one of the largest and finest of the caves the chief priest made his way, climbing to the entrance, some ten or fifteen feet above the ground, by means of a rude ladder—the stout trunk of a tree, with footholds chopped deep into the wood on each side.

  Reaching his home he seated himself on the rocky floor at the cavern’s mouth, squatting where he could overlook the broad river and the path which led along the bank. Here he sat for an hour or more, meditating upon the fate of A-ta, for the priest was not by nature cruel.

  But he could see naught else that he might have done; jealous of the power of the priesthood, believing firmly that in the priest clan was bound up the welfare of the tribe, it behooved him to secure for that clan the finest and best of the youn
g men.

  And such a one was Menzono-men; tall and strong and handsome, well formed, young, filled with high ideals, he would be a ministrant most acceptable to O-Ma-Ken, Great Father of the Taan. And the priests of the tribe might not marry! In very truth, A-ta was a stumbling-block in the way of the priesthood!

  But was there not some other way? Even yet it was not too late; it were easy to let Gur go balked of his victim! And for the hundredth time Ta-nu-ko turned over in his mind plan after plan. To slay the maiden himself, in secret; to betray her into some pitfall; anything to bring her a more merciful death. But no; the trackers of the Ta-an were skilled and crafty; Sar-no-m’rai, The Eyes That Walk in Darkness, friend and boyhood companion of the great chieftain—keener was he than a hunting wolf; no man might hope to elude his wondrous vision, to move without leaving traces that he could see and read.

  No, this was the only way; for the hundredth time Ta-nu-ko reached this decision, now final, and, rising, he made his way down the ladder and turned his steps eastward along the shore of the river.

  Five hundred paces had he gone when he was aware of a movement, a rustling of the bushes ahead, and he stopped in his tracks, unslinging his powerful bow from his shoulders and fitting an arrow to the string—none might tell when some beast of prey would attack! But he lowered the bow and replaced the arrow as a girl of nineteen rounded a turn of the path and came toward him, smiling, and he smiled in response, feeling a twinge of pain in his bosom as he did so, for it was A-ta.

  And once again the priest sensed a regret that so fair a one must die, for indeed A-ta was fair, fit bride for such as Menzono-men. Tall she was, so that her eyes looked level into Ta-nu-ko’s; long of limb, and slim yet round, the muscles playing under the smooth, sleek skin; brown of hair and of eye, as beseemed a maiden of the People of the Mountain Caves, and so beautiful of feature that in the tribal songs her name was coupled with that of the half-fabled A-ai, the Dawn, bride of Snorr, the great chieftain of olden time.

  As she stood in the patches of sunlight that filtered through the trees, clad in a scanty garment of leopard’s hide that left bare her arms and right shoulder and breast, and reached but to the middle of her thighs, Ta-nu-ko wondered not that Ro-su, Carver of Statues, had cut from the tusk of a mammoth a figure which he named A-ta; not fairer was its surface than the velvet roundness of the living form!

  A-ta drew near, smiling, for she was friend to every man and to every woman of the Ta-an, and the Chief Priest turned sick, closed his eyes, and swayed where he stood as a vision rose before him of that lovely form, bound and writhing in agony as the savage chieftain of the Little Hairy Men stripped thongs of skin from the tortured flesh.

  Instantly A-ta was at his side, her arm about his waist, supporting him, as she said, anxiously: “Ta-nu-ko! You are sick? Has illness overtaken you?”

  He recovered himself with an effort, thinking silently.

  “It is for the Ta-an!” Aloud he answered: “It is but a passing weakness; not since dawn of yesterday have I tasted food.” Then, once more erect and firm: “A-ta, we are well met; I sought a messenger, and you will serve. It is for the Ta-an!”

  “Speak!” answered the girl. “In what way can I serve the Ta-an?”

  “Tomorrow is the Great Sacrifice of the Hunt; it is for that I fast. Go you to the great rock that overhangs the water, two thousand paces to the south from here, where the Smaller Water joins this, our stream. The place is known to you?”

  The girl nodded silently, and the priest went on.

  “Take with you this sacred basket of woven reeds, bathe your hands and arms even to the shoulders seven times in the water, bathing also the basket. As the sun sinks to rest in the Great Water, pluck from the rock three handfuls of the moss that grows there, returning swiftly to the Place of Sacrifice, where I will take the moss, needed for the sacrifice tomorrow. Let no sound pass your lips from now till it is in my hands, and see that the moss is touched by naught save only your fingers and the basket in which you bring it. And fail not to pray in silence to the Great Father that you may be worthy to render this service. Go in peace!”

  The girl bowed, then hesitated as she turned away, raising her left hand and her eyebrows in inquiry.

  “Speak!” said Ta-nu-ko.

  “Think not that I seek to avoid serving,” spoke A-ta, “but did not the son of Sen-va bring the sacred moss but yesterday?”

  “It has been defiled. One of the children of the tribe, meaning no harm, laid a hand upon it as it was carried from the young man’s hands to the altar. Go in peace, omitting not to pray to the Great Father.”

  The girl bowed, and kneeling before the chief priest, said: “Your blessing on my errand, Ta-nuko!” Once more Ta-nu-ko shuddered, but laid his hands on the girl’s head, moving his lips silently—words would not come! Satisfied, A-ta rose and continued along the path, the priest watching her till she was hidden in the bushes, when he covered his face with his hands and bent his head.

  “Great Father,” he prayed, “accept the sacrifice of my honor! In thy service has a priest of the Ta-an spoken with two tongues and sent to her death the noblest maiden of the tribe. May the sacrifice find favor in thy sight!”

  Rousing himself, he passed on to the cave of T’san-va-men, great chieftain of the Ta-an, where the two sat long, planning the Great Hunt, when the tribe would move, men and women and children, ten days’ journey to the north and west, to make a camp where they would hunt, storing meat, dried in the smoke of the fires, to keep them through the Long Cold.

  The plans made, Ta-nu-ko returned along the river to his own cave, where he wrapped himself in skins of wolf and leopard and lay down to sleep.

  He slept ill, being troubled much by dreams, and on awaking, he caught sight of a man hurrying along the path by the water’s edge. Nearer and nearer drew the figure, and soon Ta-nu-ko recognized it for the burly form of L’vu, friend and right-hand man to the great chieftain. Coming near, L’vu looked upward, and, seeing the chief priest above, halted and raised his left hand. Ta-nu-ko nodded and beckoned, clenching his right fist and moving it back and forth across his body, knuckles upward, and L’vu climbed the ladder, bowing deeply before the priest.

  “Ta-nu-ko, Chief Priest,” he said, “T’san-vamen, Lord of the Winged Death, Great Chieftain of the Ta-an, sends me to pray you come to him swiftly.”

  Ta-nu-ko leaped to his feet. “Trouble is come upon the Ta-an?” he asked.

  “Nay,” answered L’vu, “upon the great chieftain. A-ta, whom he loves as a daughter, returned not to her home, and he fears misfortune may have come upon her. Savage beasts are abroad.”

  “I come!” And quickly the two climbed down the ladder, making their way in haste to the cave of T’san-va-men. Arrived there, the priest bowed before the chieftain, who motioned him to sit, L’vu, Sar-no-m’rai, and others standing respectfully.

  “Ta-nu-ko,” spoke the chieftain, “A-ta returned not to the cave of her father yesternight. She was seen to speak with you by the river, and by none has she been seen since. Can you perchance tell us aught of what has overtaken her?”

  “Nay, naught is known to me, save only that by me was she sent to bring the sacred moss for the Great Sacrifice of the Hunt, going to the Great Rock to gather it.”

  “Did not the son of Sen-va bring moss?”

  “By chance was it defiled.”

  T’san-va-men turned to Sar-no-m’rai. “Sar-no-m’rai,” he said, “most skilful of all the trackers of the Ta-an are you. Go swiftly to the Great Rock and bring news of what you read there.”

  The famous hunter bowed in silence, examined his weapons—ax and dagger of flint, bow and arrows—and, turning, left the cave, proceeding on a jog-trot down the river. In silence he went, and in silence he returned. Straight to the chieftain’s cave he came, bowing before T’san-va-men and starting to draw in the dust the three circles of ceremony without which none dared address the great chieftain of the Ta-an. But T’san-va-men waved his hand impatiently,
saying: “That another time! Speak quickly!”

  “Oh, great chieftain,” said Sar-no-m’rai, “to the Great Rock went A-ta. There knelt she by the stream, bathing hands and arms; her knees had pressed deeply into the grass by the river’s edge. Rising, she went to the Great Rock and took from it some moss. While doing so, she was seized from behind by one of the Little Hairy Men, who crept close and sprang upon her, the tracks were clear. Bitterly she fought, but was overpowered and carried away. Also, I found where the Little Hairy Man had lain and slept. Also, I bring the basket of woven reeds given A-ta by Ta-nu-ko, thus proving his words.”

  And he laid down the basket at the chieftain’s feet, drawing back and bowing as he took once more his place in the circle. The chieftain’s face grew red with anger and his brows drew together as he leaped to his feet, clenching his fists. But his eye fell on Ta-nu-ko, who sat with his face buried in his hands, muttering: “And I sent her to death! It is I who am to blame!”

  The great chieftain eyed the priest askance for a moment, for he had no strong love for the priesthood, but Ta-nu-ko’s grief and self-reproach were evident, and his face softened. Stepping near, he laid his hand on the shoulder of the chief priest, saying gently:

  “Nay, Ta-nu-ko, blame not yourself One or another must bring the moss, and who so fit as Ata, purest of the pure? And it is not known that she is dead; it may be that the Little Hairy Men but hold her captive. Blame not yourself, Ta-nu-ko! If she lives, rescue will find her—and if not, the Little Hairy Men shall journey into the Long Dark!” He turned to L’vu.

  “L’vu,” he said, “take Kan-to, Sar-no-m’rai, and Sen-va, also others, as you may see fit. Go swiftly up the river and down, also up the Smaller Water; summon the warriors of the Ta-an, bidding them come armed and with food, prepared for war, for by the Great Father above I swear to rescue A-ta whole and unharmed from the hands of the Little Hairy Men, or to carry swift death and destruction to all their tribe, from the Snow- Crowned Mountains on the east to the Great Water on the west; from the Great Blue Water on the south to the farthest north that the foot of man has trod. Go swiftly; summon the tribesmen to war! Go!”