The Givreuse Enigma

by J. -H. Rosny aîné

  The men and animals rapidly scaled the slopes that led to the fissure, and then they went into the depths of the rock.

  The Amdavas’ primitive little lanterns and the brighter lanterns carried by the Grafina, Karel and Rak projected a sufficiently vivid light on the side walls and the ground for them to be able to advance without uncertainty.

  First, the little troop descended a steep slope that sometimes became abrupt, but always over a sufficiently short extent for a lithe and agile man to be able to continue on his way. Sometimes the tunnel broadened out, and sometimes it narrowed to the point of only letting two or three men through at a time.

  Rak and Kalava, preceded by the dog Vos and the little Bornean dog, took the lead. The other dogs sometimes followed and sometimes went on ahead. None of the subtle creatures signaled the slightest presence, with the result that they covered hundreds of meters without anything, save for natural obstacles, causing the expedition to pause.

  Twice, intersecting tunnels necessitated a precautionary exploration; they were found to be dead ends. Everywhere, they found traces of the passage of men, but these traces were revealed by evidence of stone-working that undoubtedly dated back to remote eras. There was no evidence of erosion by water.

  “It seems to me that the ancestors of the Carabao-Men enlarged, and even opened, more than one passage,” Frédéric remarked. “The place was routinely frequented once, but it seems to be more-or-less abandoned now.”

  “It seems so,” replied the Grafina.

  As they were speaking thus, they came into a deep cavern that immediately struck them as having once housed men.

  Weapons were scattered on the ground. Frédéric, who had made several digs in the company of a friend who was a prehistorian, examined them. They were axes, covered in calcareous deposits, which probably dated from 1000 or 2000 years ago, and wooden clubs, mostly decomposing. In a sort of niche they discovered two skeletons swathed in furs, the greater part of which had been destroyed by the humidity.

  The Amdavas discovered other weapons and other skeletons in niches hollowed out by human hands.

  “This is a sepulchral crypt!” said Frédéric.

  “Let’s not linger!” said the Grafina. She instructed the Amdavas to take shelter behind their shields and gave the order to resume the march.

  The corridor that followed the cavern with the skeletons had obviously been carved out.

  “The cavern and this part of the tunnels must have been in regular use once,” said Frédéric. “It’s strange that it reveals no vestige to our dogs.”

  Louise turned her beautiful face toward Frédéric and her large eyes of black fire met the brighter gaze of her companion. A frisson passed over the nape of the young man’s neck. He had arrived at that time of life in which a woman’s graces took on a gripping intensity. Dazzled by the sight of a femininity so various and so flexible, combined with a heroic nature, he was charmed by Louise’s every movement. “Yes,” she replied. “The Carabao-Men have often passed this way—but not recently. Their traces are visible to us, but non-existent for the dogs.”

  Meanwhile, the tunnel extended interminably, although no other intersections were discovered. The slope, increasingly gentle, was on the point of disappearing. For some time, they walked on ground that was almost flat; then a new slope appeared. This time, it was necessary to go upwards.

  “We’ve been walking for nearly an hour,” Karel murmured. “We must have covered several kilometers.”

  “And we’re close to their lair,” said Louise, “for I think that we’ve been walking in the same direction for almost the whole time.”

  The declivity became steeper, and a glimmer began to increase, which soon became bright light. Then a sort of cyclopean stairway appeared, terminating in a platform. In the middle of that platform a block of basalt rose up, similar to the one on which Frédéric had previously seen the captives slaughtered. When he had told his companions this, Karel and the Grafina rapidly examined the surface of the block. Several jade axes were visible there, and a large number of skulls, arranged in a circle.

  “It’s obviously a place of sacrifice,” said Frédéric, “and a kind of sepulcher. We must be close to their habitation.”

  Less than 50 meters away, they discerned rocks disposed in such a way as to enclose a sort of amphitheater.

  The dogs were becoming agitated, and an immense howl suddenly went up, which must have been uttered by a multitude of invisible human creatures, both men and women.

  At the same moment, Rak discovered the opening of a chasm reminiscent of the oubliettes of the Middle Ages. Spiral projections permitted an agile man to descend and climb up along the side wall.

  After a brief silence, the howling began again, just as loudly but more rhythmically, with a strange sepulchral quality.

  “We need to know what’s in there,” said Karel, leaning over the chasm.

  “I’ll go!” said Frédéric. “I’m used to rock-climbing. I’ve done plenty.”

  Louise and Karel attempted to dissuade him, but the young man was obstinate.

  “We’ll draw lots,” said Louise.

  The draw sided with Frédéric. Before he set off, Louise and Karel attached fine but very resistant cords to him which they always carried on hazardous expeditions.

  Armed with Louise’s lantern, Frédéric went down slowly. The descent proved to be easier than one would have thought a priori; the projections were conveniently disposed, the majority being reshaped to be more accessible. It only took five minutes for Frédéric to reach the bottom of the chasm. It was a hexagonal cavern, which seemed to have been inhabited.

  Frédéric had no doubt that it must have an exit. He examined the walls and the ground at length, feeling them and trying to introduce the blade of his knife into various interstices. For a long time, he found nothing that licensed belief in any sort of doorway or displaceable block of stone, but chance favored him. While supporting himself against the side wall, he felt a slight quiver. He pressed the same spot and its surroundings, doggedly, without any further result. He was already getting discouraged when the quivering increased and the wall appeared to see-saw. He redoubled his efforts, using both hands. A block pivoted and, through an opening large enough to allow a man of considerable girth to pass through, the exterior light entered the cavern.

  At the same moment, a clamor louder than all the preceding ones went up from the facing rocks. The roaring voices of men and the strident plaints of women were discernible—but, as always, these individuals remained invisible.

  For an instant, Frédéric appeared in broad daylight, not out of bravado but in order to discover more. Assegais sprang from a thicket, but they did not cover a quarter of the distance required to reach the young man.

  A mere threat! he said to himself.

  He stayed there for five minutes. Silence fell again. No further projectiles were hurled. “Now I know!” he murmured, attempting to close the exit again.

  After a few attempts, the block, apparently immovable to begin with, pivoted on its axis again. Frédéric found himself in semi-darkness again.

  “I have to go back up!” he exclaimed.

  The climb, as is often the case, seemed less perilous than the descent, although it took slightly longer.

  He imparted his discovery to Louise de Gavres and concluded: “I’m almost sure now that they won’t even try to attack us here. There must be some fetishistic reason. The place where we are has become inviolable…perhaps only for a time…but in the meantime, we’re protected.”

  “If that’s the case,” Louise murmured, “and I’m inclined to think so, it might perhaps facilitate our task. Let’s try to find some means of making sure. In any case, for the time being, let’s hold this position.”

  XIII. In the Depths of the Rocks

  Corisande was the captive and slave of Hourv. At first, she thought of death, but it seemed impossible to her to die without having seen Frédéric again. In her ignominy, even mor
e than before, there was an immense affection in her, entirely consecrated to the companion of her life. If it were necessary to die, she wanted to do it by his side.

  Deep down, without formulating it in any interior speech, she sensed that she would be able to live again in his shadow; she hoped for some inconceivable future that would purify her.

  Was Frédéric still alive? She had understood what he had said, in the darkness, at the moment of his flight, but had he escaped his pursuers?

  She had been assigned a large niche hollowed out in the basalt. She lived there alone, save for the times when Hourv came to her.

  It was a solitary place, where narrow cracks hollowed out in the rock by the weather intersected. The men, women and children of the Marsh rarely passed by—but there was always a sentry posted a short distance away, sometimes two.

  Hourv demonstrated a sort of gentleness. Sometimes, he talked, with abundant signs. The crude sounds, similar to grunts, had become familiar to the young woman during the journey on the raft and the march over the marshy ground. She could make out a few words. She tried to find out whether Frédéric had been recaptured, and thought she understood that he had not, as yet.

  Then, in spite of everything, she had hope. Youth, the creator of illusions, thrilled within her; thinking about the Grafina, she did not doubt that the strange young woman would dare anything to rescue the prisoners.

  The time—the interminable time—of the captivity and the horror went by, as it had gone by for the wretches buried in the depths of oubliettes, as it had gone by for La Balue, crouched in his cage.32 It went by terribly.

  Corisande was now permitted to go outside between morning and evening. She wandered around the circle of rocks, usually without passing the limit where the men, women and children with the faces of buffaloes appeared. Her guards did not seem to see her; she did not see them much herself, for they were almost always under cover.

  She wondered where the ravines hollowed out in the rock might lead. It was by that route that she dreamed of flight. She knew full well that it was chimerical—how could she deceive the vigilance of the guards with lupine senses?

  She had, however, noticed the small number of warriors present in the agglomeration. Every day, the number of men sent outside seemed to increase, and Corisande, whose thoughts always returned to Frédéric’s escape and the Grafina, wondered whether the departure of the warriors might not be coincidental with the arrival of a rescue party.

  Eventually, there was never more than a single guard. Hourv, moreover, manifested no suspicion. Corisande’s escape must seem impossible to him—the captive seemed so frail by comparison with the monstrous females of the tribe.

  One morning, a great agitation was manifest in the males and females alike. The last warriors disappeared outside. The women were engaged in an interminable discussion, and Corisande’s guard was agitated, continually disappearing only to reappear moments later.

  Two-thirds of the way through the day, a frantic clamor reverberated from the basalt blocks. The sentry, seized by a feverish agitation, set off at a run and disappeared. Corisande listened attentively. A second clamor soon followed, louder still.

  The young woman put her hand on her heart, which was hammering. An obscure force impelled her, which she made no attempt to resist, and she launched herself resolutely into one of the cracks that she looked at so avidly every day. A great energy rose up within her; captivity had not weakened her at all.

  The ground was abundantly studded with granite points. At first, Corisande passed between two high black walls, which only allowed her to glimpse a narrow band of sky; then she found a round enclosure, through which a thin stream of water flowed. She thought she was a prisoner, but a crack scarcely two feet wide presented itself behind a projection. She slipped into it.

  Twice or three times more she thought the way was blocked, but she succeeded in passing through at an angle, and went along an exceedingly dark corridor. Finally, she found herself in an open plain dotted with marshes.

  Although the place was suitable for traps, she did not stop. She was running for her life. Resolved to keep going until she was exhausted, because no direction seemed preferable to any other, she advanced at hazard, making use—to the extent she could—of vegetation and scattered stones to hide herself.

  She had just crossed an isthmus between two pools when, on turning round, she saw three Carabao-Men pursuing her. Corisande was more agile than the common run of women; nevertheless, any young woman of her race would inevitably be recaptured. The pursuers, like all Carabao-Men, had more stamina than speed, but one of the three was going as fast as the fugitive; in time, he was bound to catch up with her.

  Little by little, Corisande felt her strength decreasing; in spite of superhuman efforts, she was forced to slow down. Every time she looked back, she saw the man getting nearer, although his companions, by contrast, had lost ground.

  It’s over! she said to herself.

  With a surge of desperation, she succeeded in accelerating her pace, and even gaining a little ground. That supreme effort lasted for a few minutes; then inexorable nature got the better of the young woman. Her legs became weak, her breath seemed to be splitting her sides and the beating of her heart became intolerable.

  Minute by minute, the man drew closer. Soon, he was only a few meters behind. She could hear his feet hammering the ground. Then he was very close; he had only one or two strides to take to catch up with her.

  She stopped, her strength giving out. She wished for death…

  With a cry of triumph, the man reached out to grab her.

  She closed her eyes, exhausted.

  A shot rang out, followed by a wild scream, and Corisande, opening her eyes again, saw the Carabao-Man lying on the ground, writhing in the throes of death.

  Voices rose up in the east. On the summit of a quadrangular rock, Corisande saw Frédéric and the Grafina, waving to her.

  In the distance, the other two pursuers…

  To begin with the configuration of the location had hidden Corisande completely from the sight of Frédéric and the Grafina. As, in any case, they were observing the lairs of the Marsh People rather than looking in any other direction, they had not even noticed the young woman when she finally became visible, emerging from behind a mass of vegetation. It was Rak who had called attention to her, at the very moment when she was about to be seized.

  In three seconds, the Grafina shouldered her rifle and fired. The man fell just as his hand touched his prey.

  Frédéric, bewildered, simultaneously proclaimed his gratitude and called out to Corisande. Evidently, she could not head for the rock without the two men who were pursuing her cutting her off.

  Those men had stopped on seeing their companion fall. Then, understanding what had just happened, they became invisible. Between them and the rock there were all kinds of cover—blocks of stone, vegetation, folds in the terrain—permitting them to bar the way to the fugitive.

  “I’ve got to go to her rescue!” Frédéric declared.

  Louise de Gavres did not try to stop him. She understood that he had to do it. In fact, having rapidly studied the area, she resolved to go with him. “Rak,” she said to the tracker, “you must alert our friends.”

  Frédéric was already climbing down the wall. While Rak disappeared into the tunnel, the Grafina started to follow the young man.

  “What about me?” Karel exclaimed.

  “There must be a leader here,” said the young woman, imperiously, “to defend the location and await reinforcements.”

  Louise did not take long to catch up with Rouveyres.

  Five minutes later, they were both running toward Corisande, avoiding passing close to bushes, clumps of trees or rocks favorable to ambushes.

  Corisande saw them coming, but she could also see the two men who had been pursuing her creeping along a hollowed-out trail, in the dry bed of a stream that filled up in the rainy season. In order to meet up with her brother and t
he Grafina, the young woman had to cross the deepest part of the stream-bed, between steep banks—which would lose her sufficient time for the brutes to catch up with her. She preferred to increase the distance that separated her from them, after having made signs to her rescuers and shouted: “Two men are chasing me, invisible to you.”

  Although they were too far away to hear her, they understood that the gestures signaled the presence of enemies. Much speedier than Corisande, it did not take them long to get close enough to engage her in conversation.

  “They’re there—there!” Corisande shouted, breathless and exhausted, shivering with anxiety for herself and for them.

  “Don’t move!” shouted the Grafina, without slowing down. “You’re in the open—you can’t be attacked unexpectedly.”

  Corisande stopped. The two men were only a short distance away.

  XIV. The Subterranean Skirmish

  Dirk was worried. For an hour, at intervals, they had been able to see groups of Carabao-Men, at a great distance and in all directions. They only ever appeared momentarily, too far away for him to be able to risk shooting at them. Up to 500 meters, the planter’s aim was almost infallible, even at a moving target—in which he surpassed the finest Swiss champions, the kings of fixed-target shooting. Beyond that range, no known marksman is the absolute master of his shot.

  After making observations for some time, Dirk suspected that the Men of the Marsh were mounting a sort of siege upon the expedition. To get a better view, he climbed a dominant rock. From there, it did not take long to convince himself that the enemy was working under cover, sometimes digging in the ground, sometimes transporting blocks of stone.

  “That’s it all right!” the giant muttered. “They’re trying to seal us in and, naturally, setting traps and laying ambushes.”

  Hendrik, who had accompanied his father, said: “Do you think they’ll attack us, Father?”