HOW I FOUND MY SOUL
The torment by fire, torture by water, rack and thumbscrews, pulley and
wheel, the weights, the press, the glove and the boot,--these the devices
men hath schemed out for the plaguing of his neighbour, the hellish engines
he hath troubled to invent and build for the crushing, twisting, tearing
and maiming of his fellow-man, yet of all these devilish machines nought
is there so constant, so pitiless and hard of endurance as the agony of
suspense; there is a spectre mopping and mowing at our shoulder by day and
haunting the misery of our nights; here is a disease slowly but surely
sapping hope and courage and life itself.
Howbeit it was thus I found it in the time that followed, for little by
little I became the prey of a terror that grew, until the opening of the
door would bring me to my feet in sweating panic, or the mere rattle of my
fellow-prisoner's chains fill me with shivering despair. And because of
these sick fears I felt great scorn of myself, and knowing I was in this
place of horror by my own will and contrivance, to despair and scorn was
added a bitter self-hatred. And now, remembering how Adam had vowed to
rescue Sir Richard, I prayed for his coming, at one moment full of hope,
the next in an agony of despair lest he should come too late. Thus I fell
to my black mood, speaking no word or answering my companion but by curses;
and thus would I sit for hours, sullen and morose, gnawing my knuckles and
staring on vacancy. Or again, beholding my enemy so serene, so placid and
unmoved (and his case no better than my own) I would fall to sudden bitter
revilings of him, until, meeting the gentle patience of his look, I would
fall silent for very shame.
At last, upon a night, tossing upon my wretched bed in dire torment of
soul, I chanced to espy my enemy and him sleeping; whereat I fell to fierce
anger.
"Ha, Brandon!" I cried. "Will ye sleep, man, will ye sleep and I in
torment. Wake--wake and tell me, must we die soon? Wake, I say!" At this
he raised himself to blink at me in the beam of the lanthorn. "Must we die
soon, think ye?" I demanded fiercely.
"In God's time, Martin!" said he.
"Think ye they will--torture me first?" Now here, seeing his troubled look
and how he groped for an answer, I cursed and bade him tell me, aye or no.
"Alas, I do fear it!" said he.
"We are beyond hope?" I demanded.
"Nay, there is always God," said he. "But we are beyond all human aid. This
do I know by reason of this airy dungeon and the luxury of food and light.
Fra Alexo doeth nought unreasonably; thus we have our lanthorn that we,
haply waking from dreams of home and happiness, may behold our prison walls
and know an added grief. Instead of the water-dungeon or the black terror
of cell deep-hidden from the blessed day, he hath set us in this goodly
place that we, beholding the sun, may yearn amain for the blessed freedom
of God's green world--"
"Ha!" quoth I. "And for those he dooms to the torment he sendeth rich food
and generous wine--aye, aye, I see it now--a man strong and full-blooded
may endure more agony and longer. So they will torture me--as they did
you--but when, ah, God--when?" And here I sank face down upon my bed and
lay there shuddering. And presently I was aware of my companion kneeling
beside me, his hand upon my shoulder, his gentle voice in my ear:
"Comfort ye, Martin, comfort ye, God shall give ye strength--"
"Nay, I am a coward!" I cried bitterly, "A shameful craven!"
"Yet you do not fear! You have endured! The fire hath no terrors for you!"
"Because I am old in suffering, and am done with fear, because, beyond
smoke and flame, I shall find God at last."
"Think ye there is a God?"
"I know it, Martin!"
"Yet am I coward!" I groaned. "Though 'tis not death I fear, nor the
torture so much, 'tis rather to be thus counting the hours--"
"I know," said he, sighing. "I know. 'Tis the waiting for what is to be,
ah, the weary, weary waiting--'tis this doth shake the strongest; the hour
of suffering may be now, or to-morrow, or a month hence."
"God send it be to-night!" said I fervently. "And to-night, and while I am
yet the man I am, know this; I, that lived but for vengeance, dying, do
renounce it once and for ever. I, that came hither seeking an enemy, find,
in place of hated foe, a man ennobled by his sufferings and greater than
myself. So, as long as life remains to us, let there be peace and good will
betwixt us, Sir Richard. And as you once sued forgiveness of me, now do I
sue your friendship--"
"Martin!" said he in choking voice, and then again, "Oh, Martin Conisby,
thus hath God answered my prayer and thus doth the feud betwixt Conisby and
Brandon end--"
"Yes!" said I. "Yes--so do I know at last that I have followed a vain thing
and lost all the sweetness life had to offer."
Now here, seeing me lie thus deject and forlorn, he stooped and set his
ragged arm about me.
"Grieve not, Martin," said he in strange, glad voice, "grieve not, for in
losing so much you have surely found a greater thing. Here, in this dread
place, you have found your soul."
And presently, sheltered in the frail arm of the man had been my bitter
enemy, I took comfort and fell to sweet and dreamless slumber.
Another day had dragged its weary length: Sir Richard lay asleep, I think,
and I, gloomy and sullen, lay watching the light fade beyond the grating in
the wall when; catching my breath, I started and peered up, misdoubting my
eyes, for suddenly, 'twixt the bars of this grating, furtive and silent
crept a hand that opening, let fall something white and shapeless that
struck the stone floor with a sharp, metallic sound, and vanished
stealthily as it had come. For a while I stared up at this rusty grating,
half-fearing I was going mad at last, yet when I thought to look below,
there on the floor lay the shapeless something where it had fallen. With
every nerve a-thrill I rose and creeping thither, took it up and saw it was
Adam's chart, the which had been taken from me, with all else I possessed;
this wrapped about a key and a small, sharp knife; on the back of which,
traced in a scrawling hand, I read these words, viz:
"A key to your fetters. A knife to your release.
Once free of your dungeon take every passage
Bearing to the left; so shall you reach the postern.
There one shall wait, wearing a white scarf.
Follow him and God speed you.
You will be visited at sunset."
To be lifted thus from blackest despair to hope's very pinnacle wrought on
me so that I was like one entranced, staring down at knife and paper and
key where they had fallen from my nerveless hold; then, catching up the
knife, I stood ecstatic to thumb over point and edge and felt myself a man
once more, calm and resolute, to defy every inquisitor in Spanish America,
and this merely by reason of the touch of this good steel, since here was
a means whereby (as a last resource) I might set myself safe beyond their
devilish torments once and for all. And now my soul went out in passionate
gratitude to Don Federigo since this (as I judged) must be of his
contrivance.
But the shadows deepening warned me that the sun had set wherefore I
slipped off my shoes as softly as possible not to disturb Sir Richard's
slumbers, and made me ready to kill or be killed.
And presently I heard the creak of bolts and, creeping in my stockinged
feet, posted myself behind the door as it opened to admit the silent,
shrouded form of a familiar bearing a lanthorn. Now, seeing he came alone,
I set the knife in my girdle and, crouched in the shadow of the door,
watched my time; for a moment he stood, seeming to watch Sir Richard who,
roused by the light, stirred and, waking, blinked fearfully at this silent
shape.
"Ah, what now?" he questioned. "Is it me ye seek?" For answer the familiar
set down the lanthorn and beckoned with his finger. Then, as Sir Richard
struggled painfully to his feet, I sprang and grappled this hateful,
muffled form ere he could cry out, had him fast by the throat, and dragging
him backwards across my knee, I choked him thus, his hoarse whistling gasps
muffled in his enveloping hood. And then Sir Richard was beside me.
"Will ye slay him, Martin?" cried he.
"Aye!" I nodded and tightened my grip.
"Nay, rather spare him because he is an enemy; thus shall your soul go
lighter henceforth, Martin."
So in the end I loosed my hold, whereupon the familiar sank to the floor
and lay, twitching feebly. Hereupon I rent off hood and robe and found him
a poor, mean creature that wept and moaned, wherefore I incontinent gagged
him with stuff from his own habit and thereafter locked him securely into
my fetters. And now, trembling with haste, I donned his habit and, catching
up the lanthorn, turned on Sir Richard:
"Come!" said I.
"Nay!" said he, wringing his fettered hands. "Nay--alas, I should but
hamper you--"
"Come!" said I, my every nerve a-tingle to be gone. "Come--I will aid
you--hurry, man--hurry!"
"Nay, 'twere vain, Martin, I can scarce walk--'twere selfish in me to let
you run such needless risks. Go, Martin, go--God bless you and bring you
safe out of this evil place."
Without more ado I tucked my shoes into my bosom, caught up the lanthorn
and hasted away.
But as I went I must needs remember the pitiful eagerness of Sir Richard's
look and the despairing gesture of those helpless, fettered hands.
Hereupon I cursed fiercely to myself and, turning about, came running back
and, finding him upon his knees, hove him to his feet and, or ever he
guessed my purpose, swung him across my shoulder and so away again, finding
him no great burden (God knows) for all his fetters that clanked now and
then despite his efforts. Presently espying a passage to my left, thither
hurried I and so in a little to another; indeed it seemed the place was a
very maze and with many evil-looking doors that shut in God only knew what
of misery and horror. So I hasted on, while my breath laboured and the
sweat ran from me; and with every clank of Sir Richard's fetters my heart
leapt with dread lest any hear, though indeed these gloomy passageways
seemed quite deserted. And ever as we went, nought was to see save these
evil doors and gloomy walls, yet I struggled on until my strength began to
fail and I reeled for very weariness, until at last I stopped and set Sir
Richard on his feet since I could carry him no further, and leaned panting
against the wall, my strength all gone and my heart full of despair, since
it seemed I had missed my way.
Suddenly, as I leaned thus, I heard the tinkle of a lute and a voice
singing, and though these sounds were dull and muffled, I judged them at no
great distance; therefore I began to creep forward, the knife ready in one
hand, the lanthorn in the other, and thus presently turning a sharp angle,
I beheld a flight of steps surmounted by a door. Creeping up to this door,
I hearkened and found the singing much nearer; trying the door, I found it
yield readily and opening it an inch or so beheld a small chamber lighted
by a hanging lamp and upon a table a pair of silver-mounted pistols;
coming to the table I took them up and found them primed and loaded. I now
beckoned Sir Richard who crept up the stairs with infinite caution lest his
fetter-chains should rattle.
The chamber wherein we stood seemed the apartment of some officer, for
across a small bed lay a cloak and plumed hat together with a silver-hilted
rapier, which last I motioned Sir Richard to take. Beyond the bed was
another door, and coming thither I heard a sound of voices and laughter,
so that I judged here was a guard-room. As I stood listening, I saw Sir
Richard standing calm and serene, the gleaming sword grasped in practised
hand and such a look of resolution on his lined face as heartened me
mightily. And now again came the tinkle of the lute and, giving a sign to
Sir Richard, I softly raised the latch and, plucking open the door, stepped
into the room behind, the pistols levelled in my hands.
Before me were five men--four at cards and a fifth fingering a lute, who
turned to gape, one and all, at my sudden appearance.
"Hold!" said I in Spanish, through the muffing folds of my hood. "Let a man
move and I shoot!" At this they sat still enough, save the man with the
lute, a small, fat fellow who grovelled on his knees; to him I beckoned.
"Bind me these fellows!" I commanded.
"No ropes here!" he stammered.
"With their belts, fool; their arms behind them--so!" Which done, I
commanded him to free Sir Richard of his gyves; whereupon the little fellow
obeyed me very expeditiously with one of the many keys that hung against
the wall. Then I gave my pistols to Sir Richard and seizing on the little,
fat man, bound him also. Hereupon I gagged them all five as well as I might
and having further secured their legs with their scarves and neckerchiefs,
I dragged them one by one into the inner chamber (the doors of which I
locked) and left them there mightily secure. Then, catching up a good,
stout sword and a cloak to cover Sir Richard's rags, I opened another door
and, having traversed a sort of anteroom, presently stepped out into the
free air.
It was a dark night; indeed I never saw Nombre de Dios any other than in
the dark, yet the stars made a glory of the heavens and I walked awhile,
my eyes upraised in a very ecstasy, clean forgetting my companion until he
spoke.
"Whither now, Martin?"
"I am directed to a postern, and one bearing a white scarf."
"The postern?" quoth Sir Richard. "I know it well, as doth many another
unhappy soul; 'tis the gate whereby suspects are conveyed secretly to the
question!"
We kept to the smaller streets and lanes, the which, being ill-lighted,
we passed without observation; thus at last, following the loom of a high
wall, very grim and forbidding, we came in sight of a small gateway beneath
a gloomy arch, where stood two shadowy figures as if on the lookout,
whereupon I stopped to reconnoitre them, loosening my sword in the
scabbard. But now one of these figures approached and, halting to peer at
us, spoke in strange, muffled tones.
"Seek ye the white scarf?" questioned the voice in Spanish.
"We do!" said I. At this the man opened the long cloak he wore and
flourished to view a white scarf.
"Aye, but there were two of you," said I. "What is come of your fellow?"
"He but goeth before, Señor." And true enough, when I looked, the other dim
form had vanished, the which I liked so little that, drawing my sword, I
clapped it to the fellow's breast.
"Look now," quoth I, "play us false and you die!"
"The Señor may rest assured!" says he, never flinching.
"Why, then, lead on!" I commanded.
Now as we followed this unknown, I had an uncanny feeling that we were
being dogged by something or some one that flitted in the darkness,
now behind us, now before us, now upon our flank, wherefore I walked
soft-treading and with my ears on the stretch. And presently our guide
brought us amid the denser gloom of trees whose leaves rustled faintly
above us and grass whispered under foot; and thus (straining my ears, as
I say) I thought to catch the sound of stealthy movement that was neither
leaf nor grass, insomuch that, shifting the sword to my left hand, I drew
forth and cocked one of the pistols. At last we came out from among the
trees and before us was the gleam of water and I saw we were upon the bank
of a stream. Here our guide paused as if unsure; but suddenly was the gleam
of a lanthorn and I heard Don Federigo's welcome voice:
"Is that Hualipa?"
Our guide moved forward and, pausing in the glare of the lanthorn, let fall
his cloak and I, beholding that pallid, impressive face, the dull eyes,
small mouth, and high thin nose, knew him for Fra Alexo, Chief Inquisitor
of Nombre de Dios. Then, lifting one hand to point slim finger at Don
Federigo, he spoke in his soft, sweet voice:
"Don Federigo, long hath Holy Church suspected thee--and Holy Church hath
many eyes--and hands. So is thy messenger dead and so I favoured the escape
of these declared heretics that through them thou mightest be taken in thy
shameful treachery. Even now come armed servants of the Church to take
again these doomed heretics and with them--thee also. Now kill me an you
will, but thine apostasy is uncovered; the Holy Inquisition hath thee safe
at last. Thy good name, thy pride of birth and place shall not shelter thee
from the avenging fire--oh, most treacherous one--"
Suddenly he choked, clapped his two hands to his throat, staring horribly;
and betwixt his fingers I saw a small, tufted thing deep-buried in his
throat. Then all at once there burst from his writhen lips an awful,
gasping scream, dreadful to hear, and then he was down, writhing and
gasping awhile, with Don Federigo and Sir Richard bending above him.
But I, well knowing what this was and remembering the unseen thing that had
tracked us, turned to the shadow of a bush hard by and thus beheld a shaggy
head that peered amid the leaves, a hairy face with wild, fierce eyes and
teeth that gleamed.
So the man John stared down at his handiwork, flourished his deadly
blowpipe and was gone.
"He is dead!" said Don Federigo. "'Tis an Indian poison I have met with ere
this--very sudden and deadly. Fra Alexo stands at the tribunal of his God!"
and baring his head, Don Federigo glanced down at the dark, contorted shape
and thence to the gloomy trees beyond, and beckoning, brought me to a boat
moored under the bank hard by.
"Señor Martino," said he, "'tis time you were gone, for if Don Alexo hath
turned out the guard--"
"Nay, sir," quoth I, "they must be some while a-coming," and I told him
briefly how we had secured the watch.
"And Fra Alexo is dead!" said he.
Here I would fain have told him something of my gratitude for the dire
risks and perils he had run on my behalf, but he caught my hands and
silenced me.
"My friend Martino," said he in his careful English, "you adventured your
life for me many times; if therefore I save yours, it is but just. And your
vengeance--is it achieved?"
"Indeed, sir," quoth Sir Richard, "achieved to the very uttermost, for he
hath carried that enemy out from the shadow of death, hath perilled his
own chances of life that I might know the joys of freedom--I that was his
bitter enemy."
"So may all enmity pass one day, I pray God," sighed Don Federigo. "And
now, as for thee, Martino my friend, vengeance such as thine is thing so
rare as maketh me to honour thy friendship and loath to lose thee, since we
shall meet no more in this life. Thus I do grieve a little, for I am an old
man, something solitary and weary, and my son, alas, is dead. This sword
was my father's and should have been his; take you it, I pray, and wear it
in memory of me." And speaking, he loosed off his sword and thrust it upon
me.
"Noble sir," said I, "dear and good friend, it doth not need this to mind
me of all your high courage and steadfast friendship--and I have nought to
offer in return--"
"I shall ever remember your strange method of vengeance!" said he. And when
we had embraced each other, I got me into the boat and aided Sir Richard in
beside me.
"Look now," warned Don Federigo as I loosed the mooring rope, "pull across
the river and be wary, for in a little the whole town will be roused upon
you. Get clear of the river as speedily as you may. And so, farewell, my
friend, and God go with you!"
For answer I waved my hand, then, betaking me to the oars, I pulled
out--into the stream farther and farther, until the stately form of Don
Federigo was merged and lost in the gloom.
Sure enough, scarcely had we come into the shadows of the opposite bank
than the silence gave place to a distant clamour, lost all at once in a
ringing of bells, a rolling of drums and a prodigious blowing of horns and
trumpets; the which set me a-sweating in despite the cool night wind, as,
chin on shoulder, I paddled slowly along, unsure of my going and very
fearful lest I run aground. In the midst of which anxieties I heard Sir
Richard's voice, calm and gentle and very comforting:
"With a will, Martin--pull! I know the river hereabouts; pull, Martin, and
trust to me!" Hereupon I bent to the oars and with no fear of being heard
above the din ashore, since every moment bells and drums and trumpets waxed
louder. Thus presently we came opposite the town, a place of shadows where
lights hovered; and seeing with what nicety Sir Richard steered, keeping
ever within the denser shadow of the tree-clad bank, I rowed amain until we
were past the raving town, and its twinkling lights were blotted out by a
sudden bend of the river.
Suddenly I saw Sir Richard stand up, peering, heard his voice quick and
commanding:
"Ship your oars!" Then came a chorus of hoarse shouts, a shock, and we were
rocking, gunwale and gunwale, with a boat where dim figures moved, crying
shrill curses. I remember letting drive at one fellow with an oar and
thereafter laying about me until the stout timber shivered in my grasp. I
remember the dull gleam of Sir Richard's darting blade and then the two
boats had drifted apart. Tossing aside my shattered oar, I found me another
and rowed until, gasping, I must needs pause awhile and so heard Sir
Richard speaking:
"Easy, Martin, easy! There lieth the blessed ocean at last; but--see!"
Resting on my oars and glancing whither he pointed, I saw a light suspended
high in air and knew this for the riding-lanthorn of a ship whose shadowy
bulk grew upon me as I gazed, hull and towering masts outlined against the
glimmer of stars and the vague light of a young moon. Hereupon I bowed my
head, despairing, for this ship lay anchored in midstream, so that no boat
might hope to pass unchallenged; thus I began to debate within me whether
or no to row ashore and abandon our boat, when Sir Richard questioned me:
"Can you sing ever a Spanish boat song, Martin?"
"No," said I, miserably. "No--"
"Why, then, I must, though mine is a very indifferent voice and rusty from
lack o' use; meantime do you get up the mast; the wind serves." Which said,
Sir Richard forthwith began to sing a Spanish song very harsh and loud,
whiles I sweated amain in panic fear; none the less I contrived to step
mast and hoist sail and, crouched on the midship thwart, watched the great
galleon as we bore down upon her.
And presently came a voice hailing us in Spanish with demand as to who and
what we were, whereat Sir Richard broke off his song to shout that we were
fishermen, the which simple answer seemed to reassure our questioner, for
we heard no more and soon the great ship was merely a vague shadow that,
fading on our vision, merged into the night and was gone.
And thus in a while, having crossed the troubled waters of the bar, I felt
the salt wind sweet and fresh on my brow like a caress, felt the free lift
and roll of the seas; and now, beholding this illimitable expanse of sky
and ocean, needs must I remember the strait prison and dire horrors whence
God had so lately delivered me, and my soul swelled within me too full of
gratitude for any words.
"Oh, give thanks unto the Lord, for He is good, for His mercy endureth for
ever!"
Turning, I espied Sir Richard upon his knees, one hand grasping the tiller
sailorly, the other upraised to the glimmering firmament; hereupon I knelt
also, joining him in this prayer of thanksgiving. And thus we began our
journey.