CHIEF PRIEST OF THE SUN
The rock shelf we followed became gradually somewhat wider, so I moved
forward with greater freedom. The path continued to ascend, winding
unevenly along the precipitous face of the cliff, until we must have
climbed nearly to the summit of the mighty bluff. But the overhanging
crest rendered it impossible for us to do more than guess the
situation. We were but ants clinging to a wall and unable to see more
than a few yards ahead. Finally we attained a point where the cliff
bulged outward in a wide curve, not unlike the rounded bow of a ship,
and were compelled to move with renewed caution along the narrowed
shelf, which was seemingly unsupported. Creeping fearfully forward on
hands and knees around the sharp corner I found myself before the
yawning entrance to a cavern. I realized that here was the ending of
our toilsome climb, for I could see nothing beyond, excepting a
precipitous wall of stone. If the path had continuation, it must pass
through the cave.
"Yonder yawns a gloomy-looking hole, Master Benteen," muttered the
Puritan, lying at full length beside me, and staring ahead. "Yet my
eyes see no sign of life to alarm us."
"The front is unguarded surely," I admitted gravely, "but do not feel
confident that there are no occupants within. If I mistake not, we
have stumbled upon the very spot whence the priests signal down to the
valley the rising and setting of the sun."
"I never witnessed such ceremony, yet to my mind it would be far
pleasanter going forward than lying here on the hard rock."
Realizing the truth of his comment, yet muttering over my shoulder a
word of caution, I began crawling forward into the interior. No sign
of human presence appeared, and I ventured to stand upright. The
cavern possessed a wide opening, with a broad platform of rock
extending well out beyond the face of the cliff. Along the edge I
could observe the rather dim outlines of an immense altar, built of
detached stones, rising to a considerable height, and partially
blocking the entrance. From below it might serve to conceal the mouth
of the cave. This obstruction shut off much of the moon's light,
rendering the interior intensely dark. We were compelled to grope our
way forward with hands pressed against the walls. I had not advanced
more than thirty feet, my every nerve tingling, when I saw the ruddy
reflection of a fire, hitherto completely concealed by a sharp turn in
the tunnel. Rounding this abrupt point we found ourselves in a large
room capable of containing upwards of three hundred persons. This
chamber was partly natural in formation, but, as I discovered later,
had been considerably enlarged by artificial means. So high was it
that, in the dim light, I could scarcely distinguish its vaulted roof,
while its length was hidden in the darkness. In the very centre of
this apartment arose a great pile of irregular rock, flattened and
hollowed along the top, where was burning a vast log, the smoke
ascending straight upward, evidently finding outlet above. The light,
red and yellow, flared and flickered upon the surrounding bare gray
walls, nothing else arresting the eye except a second wide rock
platform close to where we crouched. This was partially concealed by a
great mat of coarsely woven scarlet cloth, which brought to me a
conjecture that here, perhaps, the Queen was throned.
Wherever there was fire burning there must, of necessity, be attendants
to feed the flame, but I could detect no sign of life, no sign of any
kind, other than the crackling of the blazing log, and the heavy
breathing of my companion. The silence oppressed me.
"Go to the right," I advised at last, nervous from inaction, "I will
try the left, until we meet again. Keep close against the wall, and
move with care."
"'Tis not wholly unlike a visit to hell," he muttered gloomily, "but I
am weary of lying shivering here."
I watched the fellow creep forward on his knees, his brilliant
head-covering revealed in the glare like a flame. Then I took up my
own part of this work of exploration. I had compassed half my distance
amid profound stillness, perceiving nothing strange, and constantly
feeling more intensely the solemn loneliness of the place, which by
now, to my awakened imagination, appeared peopled with bloodless
victims of heathen superstition. I felt no doubt this was a torture
chamber; that many a hapless slave, or shrieking captive, had yielded
up life in agony upon the summit of the gloomy pile, and the haunting
spectres seemed to grin at me with distorted faces from every crevice
along the walls. I was weakly yielding to such weird dreams, when a
wild, shrill scream rang forth from the darkness in front. The cry
contained such note of affright that, for an instant, I connected it
with the fantasies which thronged my brain. I stood still, rooted to
the spot, the blood curdling in my veins, my eyes straining in vain
effort to pierce the darkness. Then there arose a roar not unlike that
of an angry lion; the sound of a fierce struggle; the dull thud of a
blow, and Cairnes's deep voice boomed forth.
"Ye black-faced villain! 'T is the strength of the righteous you have
felt this day. Blessed be the name of the Lord, who hath given me the
victory! Lie there in your sins, and no longer affront your Maker."
I sprang eagerly forward, but at my first step came into contact with a
fleeing figure, which rounded the end of the altar in such blind terror
as nearly to hurl me from my feet. I grasped at the floating robe, but
missed, and the next instant was rushing blindly after the fellow down
the dark passage toward where the moonlight silvered the outer rocks.
Fright gave him wings, but desperate determination lightened my feet,
and I was nearly upon him when the fleeing man rounded the great rock.
One instant he paused, glancing behind. What he saw, or imagined he
saw, I have no means of knowing; perchance some shrieking victim of his
foul rites risen from the dead. With one wild, echoing cry, which rang
in my ears like the scream of a lost soul, he gave a mad leap out into
the air, and went plunging down to the jagged rocks at the base. Sick
and pulseless I drew back. Trembling in every limb, even in the
silence which followed I could detect no sound of his body as it struck
the earth. I crept to the edge, lying prone upon my face, and looked
over. The moonlight ended a hundred feet beneath me; beyond its line
there was nothing but a black void. There could be no question as to
what had occurred--the man was dead. I made my way back into the cave
seeking to discover what had befallen the Puritan. I found him at the
farther extremity of the great altar, calmly enjoying a quantity of
cold meat he had discovered. He was squatting upon the floor, in close
proximity to the motionless, extended figure of a savage arrayed in the
black garments of the priesthood. They formed a picture so startlingly
grotesque I could but stare in amazement.
"Jerked venison," he explained, glowering up at me, as I came into the
firelight. "'T is of a peculiar flavor not altogether to my taste, yet
not a food to be despised in the wilderness. Did you lay hands upon
the heathen who fled?"
"No, he escaped me, but only to leap over the outer rock. He lies dead
below. Have you slain this man?"
He turned the huddled up body over contemptuously with his foot, and I
perceived the wrinkled countenance of an aged man, the eyes bright, the
thick hair on his head long and nearly white. The face, thin and
emaciated, was so sinister I involuntarily drew back.
"A snake is not so easily killed," he answered in indifference. "I
struck but once, and not very hard as I rank blows, yet the fellow has
not stirred since. 'T is well for him to remain quiet until I finish
this repast, for I am of a merciful disposition when my carnal
requirements are properly ministered unto. Faith, had my eyes not
fallen on the food I might have got both the fellows."
Paying slight heed to his gossip I bent over the priest, rubbing his
limbs until the blood began to circulate. Before the testy sectary had
ended his munching, the old savage was sitting up, his back propped
against a rock, the firelight playing over his wrinkled face, as he
gazed at us, yet dazed and frightened. This was one whom I had never
before seen; there was something of distinction about him, both as
regards face and costume, which instantly convinced me he held high
rank in the tribe--no doubt the chief priest. His sharp, black,
malicious eyes wandered unsteadily from the Puritan to myself, as if he
sought to regain his scattered senses. Finally he ventured a single
word of inquiry:
"_Français_?"
"No," I answered shortly, speaking deliberately in French, hopeful he
might know something of the tongue. "We are not of that people, yet I
speak the language."
"I glad you not _Français_," he said brokenly, yet intelligibly, his
tone gruff, his accent guttural; "but I talk you some in that tongue."
"How come you to speak French?"
His lean face hardened. As he bent forward, his fingers clinched
convulsively. At first I thought he would not answer.
"'T was much time since I learn; when I was young man," he answered
slowly, recalling the unfamiliar words. "Then no snow in hair, no lame
in leg, and my people dwell beside the great river toward the
sun-rising. We were a great nation, with slaves to work our land,
warriors to fight our battles, and priests to make sacrifice. Then we
had much of treasure from our fathers." He bowed his head, mumbling
indistinctly; then continued, as if talking to himself, after the
fashion of the aged: "Long time before that there came to our village
men in canoes, floating down the great river out of the north. They
were of white face, and wore shining things on their bodies and heads,
and bore in their hands that which spouted fire and death. This was
before I was born, yet I was told it often of my fathers. My people
believed them children of the Sun, because of their white faces and
light hair; they were made welcome, taken into the house of the altar,
fed, warmed, and loved. I know not who they were, or whence they came,
yet they spoke this tongue, did point at themselves and say
'_Français_,' and told of a mighty King away off, and worshipped before
a cross-piece of wood. My people knew not what to make of them; yet
they were not afraid, and treated the strangers with kindness, and
there was no war between them. He who seemed their leader had one hard
hand of metal, and they named him 'Tonty.' Know you such a man of your
color?"
"No," I answered, already deeply interested in his simple story. "That
was all before my time, nor do I even remember hearing the name till
now, yet there were Frenchmen upon the great river full a hundred years
ago, I have been told. 'Twas most likely they who came to your people.
Did they do harm to your fathers?"
"They passed away in peace," he continued, using the language with
greater ease as he proceeded, "for we were then strong, and of courage
in battle; the fire bright on our altars. Nor did we look again upon
any white face for so long a time that this visit became no more than a
tradition among the people. More and more did the fathers believe this
Tonty was a visitant from the Sun--many there were who worshipped him
as a god. When he left he said he would come again, and with every
sunrise the eyes of my people were turned in watching up the river.
Then, when I was but a child, there came to our village canoes from
below, from the way of the salt water. They did land, unmolested of
our people, who supposed Tonty had come back; fair-faced men with
yellow hair and beards and dressed in shining metal from head to heel.
I was at the shore with the others when they came, and heard them speak
in this tongue, and call themselves _Français_. Others of that race
followed, and we welcomed and fed them all, even as our fathers had
done to Tonty. Some were warriors with swords, and fire-sticks, but
with these were also some strange, black-robed men, who sought to tell
us of another God, greater than the Sun our fathers worshipped. They
had pictures, and crosses of wood, and prayed to these as we to the
Sun. But we believed not in their God, and tried to drive them away
from our village when they put out our fires, for they made much
trouble among our people, so that the priests came to hate them--the
black-robes. Some among them went, but one would not go, and so we
made offering of him in sacrifice to the Sun. Then we thought we were
rid of the black-robes, and could again live as we had been taught of
our fathers."
He stopped speaking, his head bent low on his breast, his eyes on the
altar name. I waited without a word.
"But they were of strong heart," he went on at last, never looking at
me, "and returned again, until finally war arose between my people and
these white-faced _Français_. Many came up the great river from the
salt water in big boats, and drove us forth from our village, the home
of our fathers, and gave it up to fire, after killing many warriors.
We could not fight against their fire-sticks, yet we saved much that we
valued, and wandered far toward the sunset, bearing along with us the
bodies of our chiefs, and the sacred fire from our altar. The
_Français_ lost us in the wilderness. We came to a little river which
flowed down to greet us from out the sunset. Here we stopped once
more, built our village, erecting about it a great wall of earth such
as our fathers did in those days when we were strong and mighty. We
dwelt there in peace for three seasons of sun and cold, having little
trouble with those tribes that roamed about us, until one day there
came into our new village another _Français_, a black-robe. How he got
there I know not, but we laid hands upon him,--remembering the
past,--bound him before our altar-house, and made of him a sacrifice
unto our god, the Sun. Yet it was not well. Even that very night,
while we worshipped before the fire which had consumed him, there came
upon us many _Français_ out from the dark woods, with fire-sticks and
sharp knives, so that only few of our people escaped, and got away to
the north. I was one, bearing ever with me the sacred fire, which I
was sworn to guard. We travelled across many rivers, suffering much
from want, until those who lived wandered to this place, and here set
up once more our fathers' ancient altars. 'T was thus I learned the
words of the tongue, this accursed _Français_, and learned also to hate
those with white faces and black hearts who speak it."
His voice ceased, and his chin sank wearily upon his breast. My ear
caught the heavy breathing of Cairnes, and I turned to mark him lying
at full length upon the stone floor sound asleep. Admiring his
indifference to surroundings, I was yet so deeply engrossed in this
tale of the old priest as to be myself insensible of fatigue.
"You are indeed of an old race," I said, hoping to make him talk
further, "if the traditions of your people extend to those first
Frenchmen who came floating south along the great river."
The old eyes, now scanning my face, gleamed with awakened pride.
"'T is no more than a page out of our history I have related," he
exclaimed hastily, evidently aroused by my interest. "We are the
oldest and greatest people of the earth. Ay, more; we are children of
the Sun, and, ages ago, when our fathers were true to their faith and
their God, there were none who could contend against us. We had our
great altars on every hilltop, and our villages were in every valley.
Our kings ruled from far above the great fresh water down to where the
salt sea kisses the white sand; our slaves toiled in the fields to
produce us food, and in the rocks to give us store of metal for the
chase and war. It was then the Sun shone warm upon his children, and
there were none among men who dared to face our warriors in battle. We
were masters of all the land we trod; we feared no people, for we were
blessed of the Sun."
"How came the end?"
"It was a curse upon us--curse because we made mock of the Sun. The
sacred fire died out on our altars, while recreant priests slept, and
so there came upon the nation a breath of pestilence from the sky which
swept away the people as if by fire. It has been told to me that our
dead lay everywhere; that whole villages were destroyed in a single
night; that those who survived wandered in the woods foodless, until
only a pitiful remnant of those who were once so powerful lived in that
tainted air, poisoned by decaying bodies. Then the surviving slaves
banded themselves together, fell upon their wandering masters, driving
and killing, until the few who were left drew together on the banks of
the great river. Here, by lighting the sacred fire again, they made
peace and were saved. It was there I was born."
I fail utterly to picture the true solemnity of the scene, as the aged
priest, white-haired and evil-eyed, slowly mumbled it forth in his
broken, halting French, leaning with his back against the rough stones
of the great altar, on the summit of which flamed the sacred fire he
had passed his life in guarding. 'T was like a voice speaking from a
forgotten past, which looked forth from sunken eyes, and became visible
in snow-white hair. A grave yawned to give me a glimpse of all which
that grave contained--the hopes, the struggles, the death of a once
powerful tribe. Yet it all stands forth perfectly clear to my memory
as I write--the vast black chamber lying in shadow and flame; the dark
figure of the bulky Puritan outstretched upon the stones at our feet;
the ghastly, corpse-like face of the savage old priest, whose eyes
gleamed so fiercely, as he dreamed once again of the vanished glories
of his race.
"But the woman who now rules over you?" I questioned, waiting vainly
for him to resume. "Is she not white?"
He did not answer; apparently he did not hear.
"I ask regarding Queen Naladi--is she also of your people?"
"We are alike children of the Sun," he responded, his tone more sullen.
"She is of the Sun and was sent to rule; sent by the Sun to lead us
once again unto our own."
"She told you this?"
"We know it by signs, by the prophecy of our fathers; we were long
looking for her coming; she was promised us by the Sun. In the hour of
deepest need, a woman fair of face with hair of reddish gold, a goddess
in earthly form, was to be sent to guide us. She came out of the
mystery, and we wait her will."
"Then she is not of your race?"
"I have answered--she came to our people from the Sun."
I have not often felt too secure while in any position of danger, but
this feeble old savage rested so helplessly back against the base of
the altar, I lost all thought of him as an enemy against whom I needed
to guard. Sunk in contemplation of his story, I sat carelessly, my
head somewhat lowered as I mentally viewed the picture drawn. Cairnes
moved uneasily in his sleep, muttering something indistinctly, and I
turned partially so that I might look at him. Instantly, with the leap
of a tiger, the priest hurled himself upon me. I flung up one arm,
barely in time to intercept a jagged stone aimed full at my head. As
we clinched and went down, the incarnate fiend buried his yellow teeth
in my hand, and, in spite of his weight of years, I found myself hard
pressed in a death struggle. A very demon seemed to possess him; his
grip was satanic in its hate. In truth it was Cairnes who seized him
by the throat, dragging him off me. He struggled insanely against the
two of us, until we bound him so securely that nothing except his eyes
could move.