CHAPTER II
AT THE ROCK OF COUNCIL
The following morning as the chieftain, with Nan-ai, his wife, arose, and the two stepped to the mouth of the cave, they stopped, smiling, for their son, a lad of fourteen, squatted in the sunlight polishing and testing his boyish weapons. “Oh, great chieftain, my father,” greeted the youth instantly, “take me, I pray, with you into battle! Beasts have I fought and slain, but never armed foes. Strong am I, and skilled in the use of weapons, even as you yourself have said; let me then go with you, I beg, that I may learn to meet the shock of battle, as beseems a chieftain’s son of the Ta-an!”
T’san-va-men looked with pride at the youth, then turned to his wife, saying: “Your son is he also, shall his prayer be heard?”
Nan-ai clung to her husband’s arm, mingled pride and fear showing on her face as she answered, doubtfully: “Our only son is he, and I fear for him! Yet—yet—Tsu ven must learn! Only—I beg— watch over him in battle, my husband!”
The chieftain’s eyes glowed proudly, but he controlled himself, saying only: “L’vu and Sar-no-m’rai shall keep near him Better teachers could he not have; craft and skill, skill and strength—he will return to you, bearing the weapons of his foes!” Then turning to his son he nodded, saying? “Your wish is granted; you shall go.”
The youth’s face glowed, and his eyes shone, but he said, quietly and soberly: “I thank you, my father; and you also, my mother.” Then rising, he took his weapons and left the cave, turning into the forest, while the chieftain turned to his wife, speaking gently, laughing a little: “Nay, put fear from your heart, Nan-ai; even such a one was I in my youth—yet I still live!” “L’vu comes,” said Nan-ai, and T’san-vamen turned to greet his messenger, who drew near, hurrying along the river-bank. Reaching the cave, L’vu knelt before the chieftain, drew in the dust with his finger, and said: “Great chieftain, the men of the eastern caves are at the Place of Council.”
“It is well,” replied T’san-va-men. “And Sarno- m’rai approaches from the north!” Even as he spoke Sar-no-m’rai came, reporting as had L’vu, and swift on his heels Kanto from the west and Sen-va from the south. “To the Rock of Council,” said T’san-vamen, and stepped within the cave, to gather his weapons when, striding along the path by the river, hurrying, appeared a young man of some twenty years of age, tall and handsome, slim of build, but wiry and muscular.
Approaching the cave, he knelt before the chieftain, drawing in the dust the interlocking circles of ceremony. By his unmutilated hands, which bore all the fingers intact, the youth might have been an artist, but he carried only the lance and dagger of boyhood, and by the absence of ax and bow it might be recognized that he had not yet been inducted into any of the clans, either priestly, artist, or warrior.
“Speak, Menzono-men!” said the chieftain, and the young man began, doubtfully and hesitatingly: “Oh, T’san-va-men, great chieftain of the Taan,” he said, “it is known to you that from childhood my parents have destined me to the priestly clan?” He looked up questioningly, and the chieftain nodded, whereat the youth continued:
“I crave a boon—I—I—” and he stopped, seeking words.
“Speak! I can but refuse,” said T’san-va-men. “I—I—O great chieftain, let me be one of the warriors rather than the priests!” said the Slayer of Wolves. “I—I love A-ta; to give her up—I could not endure to see her another’s! And—and—to slay a bound and helpless victim on the altar—I cannot do it! My heart sickens, my hand weakens at the thought! To slay in battle, in defense of my life and of the tribe, yes, but at the altar I cannot! Let me be of the warrior clan and go with you to seek A-ta!”
T’san-va-men turned on his companions a look which they understood, for though it was not seemly that the chieftain should oppose the priests, yet to his boyhood companions, men who had stood by him in outlawry and had been with him received again into the tribe, it was well known that the great chieftain had no love for the priest clan.
His enmity was perhaps natural; Ja-ko, then chief priest, had endeavored to have him slain, but though Ja-ko had long since gone into the Long Dark, yet still it pleased the chieftain could he draw the best of the young men to the warrior clan.
But he turned a stern face to the kneeling youth.
“Menzono-men,” said the chieftain, “this is a great thing you ask. It does not become a chieftain of the Ta-an to oppose the priests, taking from them one vowed to them from childhood! Nor has your training been that of a warrior; how, then, shall you handle weapons and endure the hardships of war?”
“Oh, great chieftain,” spoke the Slayer of Wolves eagerly, “long have I trained myself in the use of weapons, and to endure the long march and the cold camp! Ever in my mind has been the thought that perchance I might be a warrior. And for the rest—if a priest I must be—my lance will set me free!”
“Speak not thus!” said the chieftain sternly. “It is to serve the Great Father that you are vowed to the priest clan! He will not receive with favor one who shuns his service! Your body to the beast and your soul to the Place of Evil should you thus avoid your duty! Only by favor of the priest clan, only with their consent, can you be a warrior. But go we now to the Rock of Council; do you follow, and this matter shall be laid before the tribe.” So saying, the chieftain and his men bent their steps to the north, fording the river and taking the shortest way across a neck of land, formed by a loop in the stream, Menzono-men following submissively, head bent. This short-cut saved perhaps some three thousand paces in distance, but made necessary the fording of the river a second time, and this at a dangerous place, where the water, narrowing below a little island, and made swift by the shallow bottom which alone made possible the ford, foamed and boiled waist deep over a rough, rocky, and uneven bed. More than one man, daring this passage, had been swept from his uncertain footing and whirled and tumbled down-stream until, battered and bruised by the sharp and jagged stones which thrust up from the rapids below, his lifeless body was spewed ashore from some eddy far down the river.
But the chieftain and his men, confident of their strength and skill—and not unwilling to test Menzono-men—strode along the narrow path toward the river.
Reaching the river-bank, the chieftain plunged unhesitating into the water, and after him L’vu.
Then followed Sen-va, and after him came Sar-no-m’rai, and last Kan-to, Menzono-men— who had never dared the ford—watching, awestruck, at the careless manner in which these men flung themselves to what seemed certain death.
At length the young man’s turn was come, T’san-va-men, who had reached the farther bank, swinging about to see the manner of the young man’s coming. But at that instant the chieftain’s eye was caught by Kan-to, who slipped on the wet rock, staggered, caught at his balance, poised wavering, flung up his arms, fell, and was carried away by the rushing water, his form now appearing, now lost to view as he was swept down the flood.
Among the Ta-an it was, if not a disgrace, at least unusual, for man or woman to be unable to swim. By force of long tradition, the mothers took their children, while yet infants, to a shallow pool in some near-by stream, there letting them sport and play in the smooth water, so that often indeed a child could swim before he was able to walk. But it had so chanced that Kan-to when young, had had his right leg broken by a falling rock, and although he had, by long and arduous training, overcome this handicap, and was known as a warrior of especial strength and skill, he had not learned to swim as well as most of his tribe. But even as the chieftain turned to run, a white form rose from the farther bank, curved downward, plunged, and Menzono-men, like a swooping bird, cleft the water in one magnificent dive, disappearing with scarce a splash, and rising to the surface at once, his arms and legs flashing in the long, sweeping overhand stroke that carries a swimmer with utmost speed.
T’san-va-men, running, eyed the water anxiously; five hundred paces below the rocks broke the surface in those rapids where no man might live. Could Menzono-men
bring Kan-to to shore ere the flood carried them there?
Faster and faster the swimmer closed on the drowning man, flashing through the boiling, surging water even as the salmon darts. No spray flew from those gleaming arms; in smooth, even strokes they broke the water, and gently if swiftly they clove it again—only the arms showed above the surface; body and head buried, save only that at times the head was raised for breath or for a quick glance ahead.
Thus Menzono-men bore down on the older man—half-way to the rapids he overtook him— dove—came up behind—passed his right arm through the crook of Kan-to’s elbows, drawing Kan-to’s arms behind him—turned on his left side, bringing Kan-to’s face above the water— and, swimming with legs and left arm alone, made his way slowly toward the shore, where the others waited his coming.
Still the river swept them down, and doubt was in the minds of T’san-va-men and his followers—could he make it? Nearer and nearer drew the rapids—but now Menzono-men was close at hand—into the water plunged T’san-vamen, grasping the hand of Sar-no-m’rai, he holding to Sen-va, the burly L’vu, as anchor, gripping tight an overhanging limb of a tree. Out into the stream stretched the living chain, and as Menzono-men bore down on them the outthrust hand of the chieftain caught the wrist of the young man, and the two were hauled ashore, where they lay gasping, exhausted by the struggle. Kan-to recovered first—he had but rested while Menzono-men, swam with him—and staggering to his feet he spoke:
“Ours must he be; not for such a one the bound and helpless victim on the altar!” “In very truth!” answered the chieftain, and L’vu and Sen’va echoed his words: “In very truth!” while Sar-no-m’rai, ever silent unless speech were needed, nodded his head in agreement.
Presently Menzono-men, too, rose, and the six—though now more slowly—resumed their march to the Rock of Council, some four hundred paces from the ford, where were gathered the warriors and priests from the neighboring caves both up and down the river, and from the caves and shelters along both sides of the Smaller Water.
The Rock of Council, flat-topped like a table, and some ten paces in diameter, rose two-thirds the height of a man above the level of the plain, and grouped in a semicircle about it—for the river flowed under one side—were four or five hundred armed men, strong, active, and eager of face, each dressed in a single scanty garment of hide, each bearing ax and dagger and lance, bow and quiver of arrows.
On the rock sat, or rather squatted, five men, Ta-nu-ko, and four lesser priests, for among the Ta-an the priest clan had equal voice with the warrior clan in all deliberations concerning the welfare of the tribe.
Toward this rock the great chieftain strode, followed by his four trusted lieutenants, and Menzono-men, and the crowd opened before them, closing in again behind, each warrior raising his lance erect, full length, above his head, while a mighty shout rose to the sky:
“Comes T’san-va-men! Hail, Lord of the Winged Death, great chieftain of the Ta-an!” Reaching the Rock of Council, T’san-va-men took two quick steps and, burdened as he was with weapons, leaped full and free to its surface, landing erect. Followed L’vu, Sar-no-m’rai, and Sen-va; last Kan-to, though for him, weakened from the river, the effort was great.
Menzono-men halted at the foot of the rock, kneeling as became one who had a gift to crave, but T’san-va-men, turning, beckoned him, using the clenched fist moved back and forth across the body, breast-high, and the Slayer of Wolves, rising, leaped also upon the rock, while a murmur of astonishment ran through the crowd—an unfledged youth, not yet admitted to either warrior or priest clan, standing on the Rock of Council! But swinging about on the edge of the rock, his men beside him and the priests behind, rising to their feet, the chieftain spoke:
“Warriors of the Ta-an, too bold grow the Little Hairy Men! To all of you is known A-ta— but yesternight was she, going to the Great Rock for the sacred moss, attacked and carried to death or captivity by one of their tribe. Shall this be? Shall one of the noblest of the Ta-an be slave to a savage people, a people who command not the Red God, but, losing him, go cold till they can beg a spark?∗ Or shall she be victim to a people who ∗ Even at the present day there are savage tribes torture captives, slaying them through long days, and even, it is told, devouring the bodies of those slain in battle or upon their vile altars? Shall not the warriors of the Ta-an move to the rescue, punishing this base people, driving them far from our homes, and—it may be—sending them into the Long Dark? How say you, men of the Ta-an? Speak!”
Then from the crowding warriors rose a great shout: “Lead us, O chieftain! Lead us against the Little Hairy Men, that we may destroy them! Lead us! Lead us!”
The chieftain turned to the priests. “And you, Ta-nu-ko—how say you? For your word also must we have ere we go to battle!” Now, Ta-nu-ko would gladly have opposed, hoping for the death of A-ta, and fearing the capture of Gur, willingly would he have negatived the proposal to war—yet dared not! No reason could he give that would not betray him, and he bowed, saying: “Lead, T’san-va-men! The Great father will send victory!”
Then rose a greater shout than before, and weapons were tossed on high, but the chieftain raised his hand.
“Yet one thing, men of the Ta-an! Here Stands before you Menzono-men, Slayer of Wolves, a youth vowed to the priesthood, who yet craves admittance to the warrior clan, that he may go with us to seek A-ta, beloved by him. Also, he craves not the service of the altar, slaying the bound victim, but rather the shock of battle. How say you, warriors and priests; shall his prayer be heard?”
This was a serious matter, diverting from a clan one vowed thereto, and the warriors stood thoughtful, a murmur rippling through the ranks. Aghast stood Ta-nu-ko; should this be granted, his crime had gone for naught! Useless his betrayal of A-ta, useless his lies, useless his sacrifice of honor! He leaped forward, throwing out his hands. “Warriors and priests of the Ta-an!” he cried, “this may not be! From birth is Menzono-men vowed to the priesthood, not for us now to turn
Authors Note: who are familiar with the use of fire, but cannot generate it, depending on keeping alive a spark, or, if this be lost, on fortuitous origins, such as lightning— aside that vow! The wrath of the Great Father would lie heavy on us did we thus! This may not be! Further, untrained is the youth to war; no skill has he in the use of weapons, no warrior, he, but a priest, to serve at the altar!”
Again the chieftain spoke: “Not an hour since did this youth save the life of Kan-to, who stands beside me now, plunging of his own free will into the Ford of Death to bring to shore Kan-to, swept down the flood! Is it for such a one to serve at the altar or to fight shoulder to shoulder with other warriors in battle?”
Once more a murmur spread through the ranks, this time of astonishment, and all looked with respect on the youth who had dared, swimming, the Ford of Death. Then forward stepped Sar-no-m’rai, raising his hand, and the crowd was still, listening with attention, for Sarno- na’rai was known as one who, usually silent, spoke, when he spoke at all, with the tongue of wisdom.
“Men of the Ta-an!” he said, “this youth has courage. Also, strength has he, his deed proving well my words. Yet the chief priest says he knows not the use of weapons as a warrior should, nor can he endure hardships as beseems a warrior. Let us then put this to the proof.
“Let-Menzono-men lie, fasting, for seven days and seven nights on the Rock of Council, unsheltered from the sun and from the storm. Let him then bring to the Rock of Council—still fasting—the skin of Menzono the wolf, the born of the Beast that Wears a Horn on His Nose, and the Poisoned Slayer—this last living, and borne in the naked hand. So shall he prove his skill with weapons, his craft, his courage, and his endurance. Is the word good?”
“The word is good! The word is good!” shouted the warriors, and Sar-no-m’rai turned to the chief priest, asking directly:
“Is the word good?”
Ta-nu-ko, confident that the youth could not meet the test, and sure also that A-ta, for all her strength
and spirit, would be dead long ere the test was ended and the warriors should move—in his heart pleased with the proposal, yet feigning reluctance, answered:
“The word is good!”
“Do you accept the test?” asked the chieftain of Menzono-men, and the youth bowed, replying: “Gladly, great chieftain!”
“It is said!” spoke T’san-va-men, turning to the group. “Go you now to your homes, prepare for war, taking food, making ready your weapons, each man carrying five tens of arrows, for perchance is this a long war. On the twelfth day be here once more, to greet Menzono-men, and thereafter we march. Go, prepare! It is said!” He waved his hand and leaped from the rock, and the crowd melted swiftly away, the warriors going to hunt beasts for food, that the flesh might be smoked over the fires, going to make new stores of arrows, to look over their weapons, and to make ready in all things.
There remained the chieftain and his followers, the priests under Ta-nu-ko, and Menzono-men. To the last the chieftain turned, saying: “You have heard! Water will be brought you daily. The Great Father aid you!”
And the ten strode off into the forest, T’sanva- men taking one path, Ta-nu-ko another, and the young man was left alone to his vigil on the Rock of Council.
CHAPTER III
THE CAVE THAT SWIMS ON THE WATER
And now for a time we turn to A-ta, the Girl of the Mountain Caves. Trusting the words of Ta-nu-ko, fearing naught, and rejoicing to be entrusted with so holy a mission, she followed her instructions with care, going duly to the Great Rock, bathing herself and the basket, and repairing to the rock to gather the sacred moss for the sacrifice.
While kneeling before the rock, A-ta caught a slight sound, the rustling of a dry stick, perhaps, and turned swiftly, fearing some beast of prey, but even as she turned, as she had a glimpse of a squat, hairy form, there descended on her head a club, a million lights flashed and whirled before her eyes, and she sank back, dazed.
The Cave that Swims on the Water Page 2
