THE VOTE OF DEATH
I have already written that I was never easily affected by supernatural
fears, yet something about that grim entrance chilled the very blood.
There was no cessation of the monotonous, dismal chanting of the
priests, as these newcomers,--whose sinister purpose no one could
doubt,--moving with the silence of spectres, their bodies draped in
shapeless robes of skin, appearing ghostlike beneath the uncertain
flickering of flame, moved forward like a great writhing snake, passed
along the southern wall beneath the face of the flying dragon overhead,
until they found seats on the hard floor between altar and platform;
two or three, evidently superior chiefs, by their richer trappings,
ascended the raised logs and solemnly squatted thereon, so as to face
us. How many composed this uncanny company I cannot say, having failed
to count as they filed past, yet they completely filled the great room
with scowling, upturned faces, and were probably all the available
warriors of the tribe.
This was accomplished in stealthy silence, as wild animals creep upon
their prey, nor did any among them take seats until the old
war-chief--he who had led the assault in the gulch--made signal to that
end. Responding to a second gesture, we were driven roughly forward by
our guard, until permitted to sink down once more, directly in their
front, within full focus of their cruel eyes.
It was a fearful spot to be in. That dark interior, dimly lighted by
fitful bursts of flame, seemed more the abode of the damned than a
place of human habitation, nor was there anything to remind us of mercy
in that savage company gloating over our desperate plight. No one of
us doubted what fate dwelt in the decision of that grewsome gathering,
and in those faces we saw nothing except eagerness for revenge. It was
their speechless silence, their stolid imperturbability, which rested
heaviest upon me. It told plainly that we were helpless victims of
their cruel pleasure. Deliberately, as if desirous of prolonging the
agony of our uncertainty, for more than an hour--to us it seemed an
age--they sat thus, unmoved as so many statues, except for their
restless eyes, while the four ministering priests, robed in black from
throat to sandals, slaughtered animals beneath the frowning shadow of
the huge winged dragon, pouring warm blood over the stones of the
altar, or smearing it upon their faces. Then, appearing fiendishly
hideous, ghastlier than words can fitly picture, these revolting
figures began with wild chanting to make offerings to their gods,
dancing and capering before the flame to an accompaniment of dismal
music, burning some incense which polluted the air.
It was a hellish scene, arousing every sleeping devil within those
savage hearts; it preyed upon our strained nerves, and the Puritan lost
all control, roaring out objurgations on the foul, idolatrous crowd
until he was silenced by the sharp tap of a guard's club on his bushy
pate. Nor was it easy for De Noyan to remain quiet, while Madame hid
her shocked white face in her hands, venturing not to glance up while
the sound of these rites continued. Whatever this religious
ceremony--for such I supposed it to be--may have symbolized, it was
finally concluded by the entire party uniting in a fierce chant. As
grim silence settled once more throughout the black interior, the old
war-chief, appearing taller than ever in the weird light, and rendered
peculiarly repulsive by the bandages wrapping his wounds, rose to his
feet, commencing an impassioned address.
No word spoken was intelligible to us, yet I knew so well the nature
and customs of savages as to experience little difficulty in deciding
the purpose of this harangue. Without doubt the fellow demanded an
immediate sacrifice in payment for the loss inflicted on their tribe.
With this conception as guide I noted his continually pointing toward
us, one after another, as if singling us out as special subjects for
denunciation, perhaps for torture, as with each he seemed to associate
a peculiar term, repeating it again and again with changing cadence, as
if thus to force its dread significance more firmly home into the minds
of his listeners. The word I distinguished most frequently had the
sound "_ca-tah_," which became associated in my thought as some special
form of torture to which he desired us sentenced. Nor did I fail to
remark in this connection, my every faculty alert and strained to grasp
the slightest revealment, that, whenever the orator's baleful glance
rested upon the shrinking woman, his lips uttered another word, his
silent audience nodding as though in assent to each demand.
One followed another, no doubt in accordance with rank. Those chiefs
upon the platform spoke first, each in turn seeming to pronounce
against us in favor of that same unknown fate, making use of those two
words, gesticulating toward us as they gave judgment. Nowhere amid all
that vengeful black circle did I discern a single face not set in
savage hatred, while slowly at first, but gathering force as it
proceeded, there passed from lip to lip the sullen murmur of that dread
word "_ca-tah_." As it was pronounced each voter pointed at us, three
times making repetition of the word, until the last warrior had spoken,
and we knew that our doom had been formally pronounced by a tribunal
knowing no mercy, from whose decision there was no appeal.
No hapless prisoner confined, as I have read they were in olden times,
within a dungeon whose walls slowly closed to crush him into pulp,
could have seen the coming of death, resistless and horrible, with
clearer vision than was ours as that group of savages pronounced our
doom. It was by exercising the greatest effort of will that I
conquered the dread sense of utter hopelessness which seemed to numb my
every faculty; for, although I was to be tortured to the end, and
perish at last in utmost physical agony, yet before that moment came
there still remained a duty to be performed for one I loved. For that
I must retain mind and strength to act like a man.
Slowly, cautiously, moving inch by inch across the small space
intervening, so as not to attract the attention of our guard, I crept
forward, pausing at last close beside Madame. Even as I reached her
the final warrior cast his useless vote with the others, the excited
concourse voicing appreciation in noisy acclaim. I bent low, trembling
from weakness, until my lips were close to her ear.
"Eloise," I whispered softly, forgetting at the awful moment that she
possessed another name, "it has been voted that three of us perish by
torture, but you are not in the list; you are named for a different
fate. Is it still your wish that I fulfil the pledge?"
As she glanced up, the old war-chief pointed directly toward her. I
could perceive the baleful gleam of his eyes, and noted with what quick
aversion she shrank back until her shoulder pressed my own.
"Yes, Geoffrey Benteen," she made immediate, resolute answer. "It will
be mercy. I beg you strike."
"You forgive the blow?"
"Forgive!" An instant her clear eyes, unfrightened, looked directly
into mine, a message in their depths I had never seen there before.
"More, I love the heart and hand which speed it."
My hands were bound tightly together, but my arms remained free, the
hilt of the knife resting firmly between the palms. Although I drew my
body somewhat back in readiness for the stroke, I delayed the terrible
deed until the last possible moment, the perspiration standing in great
beads upon my face. Oh, how I loved her then! how my half-blinded eyes
feasted upon her sweet, sad face, the flames casting a ruddy glow upon
it, and playing fitfully amid the masses of her dark, tangled hair!
There swept across my mind every memory of our past, and she was again
with me in her girlhood, before sorrow had stamped her with its seal,
and she had turned me away tenderly as ever a woman could. And now she
was doomed to death by my hand; with one blow I was to blot out the
life I loved a thousand times better than my own. Merciful God! what a
trick had fate played me! Nor durst I speak to her again, for her
fingers toyed with the rosary at her throat, the beads glowing dully in
the flame, and I knew she was in prayer, expecting with each instant
the coming of that stroke which should send her trusting soul to God.
I, who have seen much of conflict and peril, much of suffering and
atrocity, look back on no moment in all my life so fraught with agony
as this, when, grasping that deadly knife in both hands, I watched
every threatening movement of the savage arbiters of her fate, praying
unto God for strength with which to perform my duty.
At last the chiefs stood erect. In response to their gestures of
command, the massed warriors below sprang to their feet, flocking
eagerly toward us, giving utterance to one deep vengeful cry. Already
their clutches were upon the struggling Puritan, when I swung high the
gleaming knife in both my hands. For one terrible second I met her
unflinching gaze, a glance which will abide with me until my dying
day--then the keen steel fell, barely deflected from the heart,
slashing open the bosom of her dress, yet--thanks be to a kind
God!--finding harmless sheath, not within her quivering flesh but in
the hard-packed earth. It was scarcely less than a miracle that I was
thus able to turn the blow, but, even as I aimed it, putting to the
hilt my full strength that I might send it surely home, there came into
my vision a sudden flash of bright color against the dark, skin-draped
wall, and I knew the Queen had come.