PRISONERS IN THE TEMPLE
A fear of impending danger will not always prove sufficiently strong to
prevent yielding to the demands of fatigue. I realized the desperation
of our position, feeling no doubt regarding our ultimate fate. I read
it plainly in our surroundings, as well as within those vengeful,
scowling faces, yet so dulled was every physical sense from excessive
weariness that I had passed through much already described like a man
in a dream. The brief repose of the previous night, broken by nervous,
superstitious terrors, the anxious effort to escape from the haunted
canyon, the hurried labor on our rude defences, the two fierce combats
with the savages, my numerous wounds, none dangerous yet weakening me
by loss of blood, together with the rapid marching and the difficult
climb up the cliff, combined to exhaust my vitality so completely that,
the moment we halted within the sacred precincts of this temple, I
flung myself full length upon the floor. I remember the sun had
already disappeared behind the western heights. I retain some slight
memory of a tender hand resting softly on my forehead, of a familiar
voice questioning me, yet if I made response, it must have been in the
unconsciousness of sleep, as these faint remembrances were my last.
I had no means of telling how long I lay thus, close against the north
wall of the building in that very posture in which I had first fallen.
It must have been after hours of unconsciousness I was at last
partially aroused by the reviving touch of cool water with which my
face was being bathed. As I slowly unclosed my heavy eyes the huge
smouldering log in the centre of the room burst into sudden flame,
lighting the interior, casting weird, dancing shadows along the black
walls, its red radiance falling upon the face bending above me, and
permitting me to look into the dark, troubled eyes of Eloise de Noyan.
"There is no necessity for moving," she explained softly. "Nothing of
moment has occurred since you fell asleep, except that the savages
brought us food."
"Have you been watching over me all this time without rest?"
"Nay; at least no more over you than the others," she answered with a
smile, "yet you appeared in greatest stress. The others have been some
time awake and have partaken of food while you remained in stupor. Do
not look at me like that! I am not tired; I was borne all the way upon
a litter, never once placing foot upon the ground."
"Have you knowledge as to the hour?"
"Only that it must be well into the night."
I lifted my body into a more erect posture, finding myself stiff and
sore from head to foot, and glanced curiously around our prison-house.
In the centre was the blazing log, the sole bit of color my eyes could
perceive. Kneeling upon either side were the motionless figures of
four priests, robed from head to foot in black, their faces, darkened
by some pigment, appearing ghastly and repulsive under the flickering
flame. Their lips muttered in monotonous chant a weird incantation
which sent to my heart a chill of superstitious dread. High above the
altar, blackened by the constantly ascending cloud of smoke, swayed
uneasily a peculiar graven image of wood, hideous in disfigurement of
form and diabolical of visage, appearing to float upon outspread wings,
and gloating down upon us through eyes glittering ominously in the fire
sheen. At either extremity of the apartment, where I supposed were the
entrance and exit previously noted, stood those savages remaining on
guard, grim, naked fellows, whose restless eyes, gleaming in the glow,
followed our slightest movements, and whose weapons were constantly
uplifted as though they longed for some excuse to strike. It composed
a grewsome scene, savage, cruel, devilish, exhibiting within its gloomy
outlines small promise for the morrow.
The old Puritan was leaning heavily against a small stake driven into
the earth, resting his aching head upon one hand as he peered at me
from beneath thatched brows.
"You have a white face, Master Benteen," he ventured, wondrously soft
spoken for him, "yet if the heart remain strong and at peace with God,
the body will mend itself."
"The heart has never yet failed me," I returned, striving to speak
cheerfully, feeling that he would like to hear hearty English words
again. "I am glad to behold you safely recovered, friend; that was a
hard crack they landed on your skull."
"'T is not the will of the Almighty that I ignominiously perish at the
hands of the heathen," he responded in his old manner, and as his voice
roared out, not unlike a clap of thunder in that silence, I observed
how the savages about us started. "Again, and yet again hath He
miraculously delivered his servant from the mouth of the lion. Surely
He must yet have labor for me in His vineyard; perchance the bearing
unto these children of Amalek the message of peace."
"Do you propose preaching unto them?"
"Ay, why not? Inspired thereunto by the Spirit, I have already sought
serious converse with yonder priest of Baal, kneeling at this side of
that accursed shrine of idolatry. Yet so wedded is he to idols of wood
and stone, he merely chattered back at me in unintelligible speech, and
when I laid hand upon him to compel him to listen, the brown savage
beyond grievously thrust me with a spear. But I retain faith that the
Lord, in His own time, will open up a way unto their rebellious and
sinful hearts."
"Such way may be opened, yet I fear these savages will only take
unkindly your efforts at ministry, even if they permit opportunity for
the carrying on of such work."
"I should be overjoyed to minister unto them with the sharp edge of a
steel blade," interposed De Noyan decidedly, and I noticed him for the
first time, lying beyond his wife. "What do you expect, Master
Benteen, these villains will do to us?"
"I read no sign of mercy in any face yet seen," I answered cautiously.
"It would be against all savage nature to forgive the loss of those
warriors sent home this day."
"You look for death?"
"I expect nothing less, and by torture; still they may permit us the
slight chance of the gantlet, although I know not the war customs of
the tribe."
He subsided into silence, as though my words merely echoed his own
gloomy thought, and for a few moments no sound arose except the dismal
droning of the priests about the altar. Then Cairnes silently pushed
over toward me what remained of their evening meal, and I forgot gloomy
forebodings in a new realization of hunger. It was while thus busily
engaged Madame spoke to me, whispering her words softly, so that they
could not reach the ears of the others.
"If the end prove according to our fears, could you outline my probable
fate?"
No lack of courage prompted the question, I could perceive that in her
eyes as they looked into my own, and some way their expression yielded
me boldness to answer truthfully.
"I am afraid, Madame, you may be spared," I said gravely.
Her hands closed down tightly about each other.
"That is what renders my heart so heavy in this peril, Geoffrey
Benteen. I could die easily, without tremor, beside you; nor would I
shrink back from torture, did it of necessity come to me, for I possess
a faith in Christ which would sustain me in such an ordeal. But
this--O God!--it is too much! The thought that I may be reserved for a
worse fate than death, may be compelled to live for months, perhaps
years, as the humiliated companion of these murderous savages--I, a
lady of France! It is more than I can bear."
I saw tears shining in her eyes, and my hand, seeking her own, closed
over it with sympathetic pressure.
"God grant there be some escape," I said earnestly; it was all that
came to my lips.
"But I feel there is none. I have not lived upon the border of this
vast wilderness all my life without learning something regarding the
customs of savages. If they spare a woman from stake or knife it is
that they may doom her to a fate more horrible, making of her their
degraded slave. I know this, and have read the truth anew in those
faces glaring upon me to-day. There remains but one faint hope--that
woman who seems to exercise control over them may incline the savages
to mercy."
"I cannot encourage you to place much trust in such tenderness," I
confessed sadly. "'T is not likely, despite her white face, and
certain graces bespeaking knowledge of civilization, she will prove any
less a savage than those she governs. She would not be here, able to
control so wild a brood of wolves, if she were not of their breed in
heart; nor do women chiefs have much choice against the vote of the
tribe. I do not trust her, Madame; I studied her face--a fair one, I
grant--as she stood in the sun upon the rock summit. It was hard set,
and savage with the scent of blood and battle. No mercy led her to
protect us then; like a great cat she prefers playing with her mice
before killing. Has she been here while I slept?"
"No one has visited us excepting the old chief who led the assault; he
did nothing but strike the Puritan, who sought speech with him."
She paused a moment, her head bent low; then she lifted her face to
mine again, and I read within it the quick determination of her soul.
"Geoffrey Benteen, listen. What would you do to save her who was
Eloise Lafrénière from such a fate of horror as now overhangs her?"
"Anything within the power of a man," I answered instantly, a painful
throbbing at the heart. "I would even drive the saving steel into your
heart to keep you unsoiled from the clutch of such foul hands. Ay!
hard as the task must prove, yet I could do it, believing I performed
the will of God as I struck the blow. But even for that I am helpless,
as I possess no weapon."
I felt her hands touch mine, something cold being pressed against my
flesh.
"I thank thee, Father, there is one whom I may trust even unto death,"
she sobbed prayerfully. "Take this knife, Geoffrey Benteen. The
Indians did not think to search a woman for such weapons of war. If
the moment comes when all hope is gone, when naught else is left, I
pray you, as a helpless woman utterly dependent upon your aid, let that
sharp point save me endless shame and agony. Have I your promise?"
"But--but why not ask this of your husband?" I questioned, shrinking,
in spite of my belief in its righteousness, from the committal of so
dreadful a deed.
"Surely he would better make answer for the necessity of so desperate a
sacrifice."
Her dark eyes never wavered from my face, nor did her hands relax their
confident grasp of mine.
"Not because I believe he would refuse, but he is of a temper
changeable as the winds of Spring. I must rest in peace, not in
perpetual doubting. You I trust implicitly; your word, once gravely
given, will be kept to the death; nay, surely this is no time in which
to practise deceit with each other, or act parts like mummers upon the
stage. I know you love me even as of old. I know this, Geoffrey
Benteen, and will abide in my extremity with no other promise than your
own."
"Eloise," I answered, strangely calmed and strengthened by her faith,
"it shall be as you wish. I thank you for the words, and am better for
them. When the last faint hope flees, and dishonor or death alone is
left, I will strike that blow which sets free your soul."
I felt her kisses and tears commingled on my roughened hands, but
before further words might be uttered, the heavy mat concealing the
western entrance was suddenly lifted, and in from the dark night there
stalked in solemn silence and dignity a long line of stalwart savages.