THE RESCUE
Drawing up his great muscular form to its full height Maa-Wang
stopped: behind him the whole clan followed his example. The
Man-who-goes-in-Front carefully looked over the façade of the temple.
It was dark. Wanda's window, only, still lighted-up, pierced the gloom
with a thin rectangle of red.
The night was beginning to thin. The roaring of wild beasts sounded
from the valley. The depths of the gorge were still a sea of darkness,
but the foundation wall of the temple, in front of which stood the
tribe, gradually became distinct, and the nearest door showed darker in
the midst of the dark mass.
Maa-Wang turned towards his clan, raised his club aloft and started
off again, a low growl rumbling from his lips. At his back moved the
hunters, all on fire for the battle towards which their chief was
guiding them. They spoke no word: their great hands clutched the
handles of their axes: the flatness of their faces was accentuated:
their clenched jaws and their chins vibrating with impatience stood out
starkly: in their eyes, narrow and flickering, shone strange lights.
They passed through Wanda's cell. The door giving on the gallery
was shattered with a blow from the club and they streamed into the
corridor behind the columns, pushing the wreckage out of their way.
The narrow subway then forced them to form into a procession of two
abreast. Maa-Wang went at the head, silent, his fingers on the wall of
the passage, feeling his way. His fellows followed through the blank
darkness. Several minutes they marched thus, here and there stopping to
listen; but they found nothing but silence, a living silence heavy with
invisible vibrations. Again they started onwards.... An axe now and
again knocked against the wall, and the meeting of the two stones made
a short, clear, clink, greeted by a surly growl. The passage curved and
turned on itself. Then, at the top of the second staircase, guarded by
a narrow rail, the opening suddenly appeared before them, showing a
pointed archway against the lighted depths of the great hall.
Maa-Wang, bending forward with his great body, shouted the call of the
clan:
"_O ... ô ... iê ... iêp._..."
And he rushed forward, club aloft, while behind him the troop streamed
into the sanctuary.
In front of them, with its back to them, rose an enormous statue which
they passed round. Close on their left, the altar revealed its three
steps and the transparent hangings behind which flamed the divinity.
Above the twelve arms which stood out from the body the metal face
reproduced with extraordinary exactness the face of Maa-Wang: the
great swelling forehead, deep eye-sockets, prominent jaw bones and
chin sticking out strongly, hair of a burning red. It was the Man of
the early days, the ancestor of the human race deified. A deep red fur
covered the upper part of the body: in truth it was the Red God,--the
graven image of the "Living Gods"!
At its feet Lursac and the missionary were stretched, gagged, their
legs and arms bound and their clothes torn to ribbons.
Discovering them, the hunters broke out into confused clamor, and while
Maa-Wang ran to the two men, the others stood around them watching them
with stupefied glances. Beyond them the hall unrolled its immensity,
surrounded with enormous square pillars based on fantastic animals who
stretched up towards the dim vaulted room their preposterous muzzles.
In front of each one of these monsters taken from the old Brahmin
legends flamed a brazier, flinging patches of blood-colored light on
the gray scaly stomachs of these granite beasts; and on the white
tiling of the floor the reflections of the quivering light mingled with
the flickering shadows in a grotesque dance.
Pierre, whom the Man had now freed from his bonds, stood up, staggering
and swaying. He could not understand.... He was still stupefied from
the hours of suspense which he had passed at the foot of the statue. It
seemed to be the continuation of the evil dream which throughout the
night had harried him without ceasing: the nightmare of the prehistoric
tribe and then of the priestesses.
But now from all the shadowy recesses and from all the corners
unreached by the lights of the braziers there seemed to arise
sorceresses and Moï warriors. There must have been a hundred of them,
and their cries and calls echoed and re-echoed through the sanctuary.
At their appearance the clan irresolute, turned back and fluctuated
aimlessly. In doubt, Maa-Wang looked at the two Europeans one after the
other.
"Her brothers?" he murmured. "That is what she said...."
The missionary heard him; he nodded, beginning to understand, and
thinking of Wanda.
"Her devotion has been useless," he thought. "We shall never get by
them."
At the same moment pointing out to the Man the army of priestesses and
guards, he said, simply:
"There are too many of them."
The Man said nothing. He gave a hoarse sigh and once again his cry rang
out:
"_O ... ô ... iê ... êp...._"
Shaken out of their surprise, the hunters at once recovered their
natural instincts of violence. The joy of coming battle swelled their
breasts and broke out in guttural exclamations. Maa-Wang, with Lursac
and the missionary on his left hand, took his place at their head.
His lips drawn back in a grin of fury, his eyes flaming, he dashed
upon the hostile forces. Behind him the clan flung itself forward like
a whirlwind, and suddenly the temple filled with screams and yells.
Raising their axes like great wood-choppers the men of Gondwana brought
them down in every direction around them. Skulls split with the crash
of their blows: crushed breasts gave way with a softer sound. The flint
weapons, splashed with blood up to the handles, became bright red.
Over the tumult rang groans and the death-rattle of those who fell.
Two braziers were over-turned, flinging their flaming coals right and
left, and the smell of burning and a cloud of smoke mingled with the
hot and bitter tang of blood. The war-cry of the clan, the long and
sonorous _o ... ô ... iê ... êp_ ..., dominated the strident screams of
the sorceresses. A staggering body, falling, brought down with it other
bodies and the tiled floor became clouded with blood.
Driven back on itself and ripped to pieces, the troop of sorceresses
slowly gave way. A bo-jaou, her smashed face spurting blood, jumped
at Lursac, trying to grasp him with clutching hands. Maa-Wang with a
single blow of his fist knocked her headlong backwards, and plunged
forward, his arms plastered with red patches, his face splashed with
blood, a short low growl coming ceaselessly from his throat, the true
frenzy of fight possessing him utterly. About a dozen hunters who were
all wounded were cornered in an angle of the building and fighting a
losing fight against an encompassing mass of Moï warriors; but he gave
no thought to them. His aim was the door of the sanctuary. In front of
him and around him the cluster of battling human beings swarmed and
circled, gave way, fell and rolled in agony; wounded men, trampled
upon, screamed. A Moï warrior, with an axe sunk deep in his naked back
ran before him, stumbled, and collapsed.
The missionary, his rosary in his hand, walked steadily forward, and
the Man, for a second, threw an astonished glance at this strange being
who walked at his side in the middle of this butchery, calmly, with a
sad face, unarmed and silent. When they had reached the door, he looked
at him a second time, still without understanding, and saw him at that
very moment fling up his arms, stumble and fall, his side laid open by
a sword blow. As Lursac with a cry ran to the priest, he stopped him,
leant over quickly, lifted up the body in his left arm and ran through
the doorway. Behind him, Pierre and some twenty hunters rushed down the
passageway, shouting. Between the walls, lighted up by the tripods, a
confused mass of Moï warriors and sorceresses was running away. The
hunters in their turn ran. The noise of the battle grew less and died
away behind them and once more they found themselves in a silence only
broken by the panting of their own breath....
Outside, in the great court they came to a stop.
In a corner under a tree the six elephants of the expedition, recently
captured by the Moïs, were standing tied to the columns; the mahouts
with their arms and legs bound shivered with fright as they saw these
strange beings approaching them.
Against the lightening sky, still sown with stars, stood out the
piled-up roofs of the buildings. The moon, pale and narrow, was pierced
by the spike of one of the turrets. The air was soft and warm. A gentle
breeze which could hardly be felt brought with it the vast murmur of
the surrounding forest.
Grouped about their chief the hunters stood waiting.
Maa-Wang had laid the body of the missionary on the ground; he looked
around, and seeing the elephants he walked towards them. Dazed, and
with a great gash on his forehead, Pierre had sat himself down on the
root of a banyan tree. From time to time he mechanically wiped away the
blood which flowed down into his eyes and along his nose. Exhaustion
had left his muscles relaxed and his nerves in a pitiable state; and he
remained there motionless, shaken by the throbs of his exhausted heart.
Dizziness, against which he vainly tried to fight, was overcoming him.
Every minute he was coming nearer to complete collapse. He wanted to
get up and walk about, but his drained energy could not bring itself to
the point, and he stayed there, corpse-like and inert.
Near by, under the tree, Maa-Wang unbound a mahout and helped him to
hoist himself on to the neck of one of the animals. Together they came
up to the remnants of the clan and the chief ejaculated a few words,
short and forcible.
Two men picked up Pierre and carried him to the kneeling elephant.
Maa-Wang himself had taken charge of the missionary; he had picked him
up in his arms and carried the long thin body against his breast as
one carries a child. Pierre realized vaguely that he was being bound
on to the back of the beast. Then he felt a sudden pitching movement,
and realized that the animal was getting up. But although he tried
desperately, he was not strong enough to open his eyes; and he gave up,
and, his will in abeyance, lay supine.
Maa-Wang then raised his hand. The elephant, followed by the hunters,
moved forward and passing through the long vaulted entrance came to
a stop again in front of the temple. The tribe, grouped about their
chief, seemed to be waiting. He stretched out his arm and with a
circular gesture pointed to the great territory which lay unrolled
before him,--the vast scene, which appeared to have no limits and which
the strengthening light of the day made clearer, showing a confusion of
the great jumbled mass of mountain crests, plateaus and hills.
"I promised to lead you to the great hunting ground, to the country
without walls, and it is before you.... Go!... As for me ... I stay
here.... Someone else whom you will pick for yourselves will become the
Man-who-goes-in-Front."
He was silent.
Around him the hunters stood wordless; they gazed at the new world
which was being opened to them and their faces reflected the
contradictory feelings which swept through their minds: amazed wonder,
the intoxication of endless spaces across which they were about to
travel, and the fear of the Unknown. One of them suddenly made up his
mind and set off; and the others in small groups ran after him in their
turn.
Maa-Wang watched them go; and when they had faded into almost invisible
shadows he turned to the mahout:
"You are free.... Go. Take these two back where they came from."
Without awaiting an answer from the Lao-ese he lifted the heavy club
and brought it down on the back of the elephant who promptly started
forward. For an instant longer he stared, following with his eyes the
elephant who had already begun to swing up the slope of the Pou-Kas
carrying, hanging at its sides, the two human bodies.
Then, turning round, he ran back to the temple.
* * * * *
He made his way back to the hall of the God, where the battle had taken
place a few minutes earlier. The signs of it were still visible. Bodies
of dead warriors were strewn pell-mell about the sanctuary; the white
tiling was here and there stained with large dark patches which grew
black as they coagulated; the dying coals of the over-turned braziers
sent up a bitter-smelling smoke, the smell of which mingled with the
unmistakable smell of stale blood. In a corner the hunters who had
been overwhelmed by a superior number of Moï warriors lay in a group
of corpses, and the red furs which they had worn were huddled together
with the broken bodies of the Moï guards, with whom, tangled together
even in death, they had fought to the bitter end. Axes, lances and
swords lay about on the ground. Groans and the moaning of a woman lying
on her back with a lance through her chest rose in the cloudy air. At
the foot of a winged dragon a Moï warrior with his side laid open by a
great wound was still twisting about in his last agony.
All this he saw as he went, just as he saw vaguely behind the three
silver embroidered veils the enormous dark red statue in its eternal
attitude of blessing and peace. But he had left it all behind him,
for he had found again the subterranean passage, the gallery and the
cell. And at last he emerged from the temple at the foot of the giant
foundation-wall.
The blaze of the sunshine, after the shadows and darkness of the rooms
and corridors which he had just crossed, dazzled him. He blinked his
eyes, and stopped to make sure of his direction. Then he ran towards
the grotto in which he had enclosed his prey, the living trophy of
his victory. On his breast, on his left thigh, and on his shoulder,
savage wounds ran blood, but he felt them not. He thought only of
the golden-haired woman. His desire for her, and the pride of having
conquered as she had told him to, swept from his mind all other
feeling and all consideration of everything else. He came near the
cave in which she was waiting for him. A last bound brought him to the
entrance--and he saw it yawning open, all the rocks which he had piled
up against it flung to one side.
After a short pause of stupefaction, he jumped into the cave. It was
empty. He remained a second without understanding, looking at the
ground stamped with footmarks, the mouth of the cavern, and the huge
stones flung about the entrance. Then, bending down, he picked up a
strip of white silk tunic, and this rag, which he recognized as the
same material which Jieng wore as her sacred uniform and which he found
now in the very place where he had shut up his vanished prey, filled
him with insane rage....
A cry like that of a wild beast sprang from his throat. All his animal
fury came back in full force: he rushed towards the temple. A single
thought, a single instinct drove him: to find his woman, to take her
and carry her away.... Once more he came out into the sanctuary. His
face contorted in frenzy, he looked about him, seeking and running from
one shadowed corner to another, looking behind the pillars, upsetting
the braziers, savagely mutilating with his axe the granite idols that
he found in his way. His lust for murder became a paroxysm! He growled
without ceasing; and before his haggard eyes the light of the brazier
fires seemed to grow larger and to mix one with the other. The hall of
the temple looked red to him ... red ... for he was now nothing but a
brute beast in delirium.... He ran straight ahead, turning neither to
the right nor to the left; and suddenly he found himself opposite the
three silver veils facing the statue of the God. He flung himself madly
upon them. The curtains, torn apart, fell upon him. He fought with
them, rending them to shreds and stamping on them. Then he attacked
the image of the God. The arms, the face, and the metal body of the
Divinity splintered by his club were defaced, broken and wrecked. It
rocked on its base; a final blow flung it crashing to the ground.
Hanging over it he tore from the image the barbaric collar that it
wore about its neck, then he set himself again to pounding it into
fragments....
Through the silence the sound of his blows rang and rang until the
idol was nothing but a broken heap of formless wreckage. Leaving it
then, he resumed his furious course and burst howling into a corridor.
He crossed other halls and other passages, swinging his club about
him at random. From his open wounds the blood trickled and ran in
streams spattering the tiles and the walls. Fragments of stone and the
splinters from the flint of his club had struck him in the face; the
cuts they had made had bloodied his forehead and his cheeks. He was red
from his hair to his heels. Everything that was human in him was in
abeyance. He was now only a male animal, a brute, mad with the frenzy
of battle and disappointed desire.
He continued his aimless rush through the temple, crossing room after
room; but now on his way phantoms slid from his path and hid themselves
behind pillars, reappearing behind him, following his course and
accompanying him, invisible, but every moment more numerous. At last
he arrived in a narrow room without any other exit than a lofty door,
above which, on a cornice formed by a heavy marble slab the granite
image of a giant dragon stood on guard. He ran straight for the door
but just as he was crossing the threshold with a sudden crash the
dragon fell, pinning him to the ground....
He fell without a cry.
And while the priestesses swarmed out from all the dark corners and ran
towards him, two sorceresses, crouched on the edge of the cornice from
which they had pushed the fallen dragon, leant over and watched the
trickles of blood which began to flow and spread from under the massive
stone monster....