CHAPTER x.x.xIV

THE TALE OF THE PRIEST

With all possible tenderness we bore the slender form of the helpless priest along the dark, crooked pa.s.sage, until we found a comfortable resting-place for him against the altar.

"I thank you much, Messieurs," he said simply, the depth of his grat.i.tude apparent in uplifted dark eyes, glistening in the light of the fire. "Members of our Order are more accustomed to blows than kindness, so I have no words with which to express thanks for your care."

"Think nothing of it," I returned hastily, and then, observing how the Puritan drew back from beside him, added, "Master Cairnes, you might busy yourself hunting more food--it will be exactly in your line--while I attempt to bathe the limbs of the priest, and see what little may be done toward alleviating his pain."

The mere thought of eating was sufficient to put the Puritan in good humor, and he was soon diligently scouring nooks and corners with scent for provender as keen as that of a pointer dog. I noticed with curiosity how the motionless Jesuit followed the movements of his hulking figure as he pa.s.sed back and forth amid the shadows, his dark eyes filled with wonder and aversion.

"'Tis truly a strange thing, Monsieur," the latter remarked soberly, "to meet with one pretending love for Christ, yet who hateth Mother Church, and dares make open mock of Her most holy offices. Thou didst name thy comrade Puritan?"

"Ay, of the same breed as the Huguenots of your country, rebels against the Pope."

He made the sign of the Cross.

"The curse of Holy Church is upon them all; they are condemned to h.e.l.l," he exclaimed with fervor. "A vile pestilence to be stamped out; yet it would afford me joy beyond words could I save this man's soul from eternal torture, and lead him back into the true faith. Mother of G.o.d! what was it moved yonder?"

I glanced quickly about toward where he pointed, seeing the shadowed figure of our forgotten prisoner.

"'Tis only one of the savages we have captured and bound. He guarded this altar, ministering to the superst.i.tion of the tribe; an old man, perchance the very chief priest who held you in the flame."

I antic.i.p.ated seeing the light of revenge leap into his eyes, but, instead, a rush of pity softened them, and before I could extend my hand to interfere, he crept across the intervening s.p.a.ce, and bent over the fellow.

"A most cruel turn on the rope, Monsieur," he exclaimed, busying himself at the knot. "Surely the man will rest easier, and no less safely, with back propped against the rock. Nay, have no fear; I will keep him tied fast if that be your wish, yet I seek to relieve his pain so I may profitably converse with him upon the needs of his soul."

"With him! Saint George! he had small enough mercy on you."

"That is of the past, and abideth not in memory," and the white hands held up the crucifix into the light. "He who died on this Cross prayed, 'Father forgive, they know not what they do,' and who is Andre Lafossier, to be harsher than his Master?"

Not until after he had prayed long and earnestly, holding the silver cross ever before the wicked eyes of the unrepentant savage, did he permit me to bathe his disfigured limbs, dressing them as best I could with what rude materials I found at hand. Even while I worked he seemingly thought nothing of himself, but, oblivious to pain, his face was ever turned to the prisoner, his lips moving in pet.i.tion for his soul. I caught but scattered sentences.

"Oh, Christ, this one--unworthy, yet I beseech Thee--Be merciful, O Virgin--out of the wilderness ariseth the voice of Thy servant--purge the soul of all past iniquity--yield me this one brand plucked from the burning--Thine be the glory forever--let my life be given for this soul--this one precious reward for my ministry."

A little later the three of us partook, although largely in silence, of the sustaining food which Cairnes furnished in abundance. Throughout the meal I felt it necessary to be ever watchful to prevent the two zealots, who were now my comrades, from clashing. Again and again the priest sought to lead the sectary to his way of thinking, but the gray face only hardened ominously, his bull voice denouncing bitterly all Romish deeds.

"Come, be at peace, you two," I commanded at last, thoroughly tired and angry. "Hold your tongues over those questions, at least while I am with you. Odds! I care nothing as to your Catholic or Protestant, your popes or preachers. Be done, and bear yourselves like men. I will no longer have you vexing the air with controversy while our very lives are hanging by a thread. There are other things to talk about just now. So, Cairnes, if you cannot bide quietly in our company, then stay here alone while I take the Jesuit out into the sunlight, where we can hold sensible counsel together."

Leaving the fellow growling to himself over the remnants of the meal, I bore the priest along the short pa.s.sage, until we discovered a secure, comfortable resting-place outside, where our eyes could sweep the full extent of the wide valley. It was a quietly beautiful scene at this hour, the glow of the sun over all. We could distinguish gangs of slaves toiling in the fields, and a group of warriors, their spears glistening, cl.u.s.tered together before the gloomy altar-house. Yet my eyes barely rested upon either scene, for there, close beside the open door of the Queen's dwelling, my glance, sharpened by love, perceived the movements of a woman's apparel, and from the faint color of it, distinguishable, even at that distance in the sun glare, I knew I looked once more upon Eloise. It would be difficult to express in prosaic English with what intense relief I realized, through the evidence of my own eyes, her continued safety. It seemed years already since our last parting, when she had chosen to remain prisoner in those savage hands. Father of all! how I loved her then; how I yearned to have word with her, to read again the silent message of her pure eyes.

The priest was gazing silently far away up the valley. Busied with my own thoughts, forgetting him utterly, I kept my eyes eagerly, hungrily upon that single, far-off figure, until, finally, I saw her arise and disappear within the open door. I growled forth a bitter curse, observing the cause for retreat--a man and a woman slowly climbing the mound together. There was no doubt in my mind as to the ident.i.ty of the Queen and De Noyan. Faith! but it would have pleased me then to put hand upon the false c.o.xcomb and choke him back to decency and duty.

The look of it was in my face, no doubt, as I stared down upon them in helplessness, for the Jesuit rested his fingers gently upon my arm, as though he would restrain my pa.s.sion.

"There seemeth something below which angers you, my friend," he said softly. "'Tis a battle-light flaming in your eyes."

"'Tis the shame of it all which crazes me," I responded, trembling with pa.s.sion, yet yielding to the influence of his presence. "You have not yet heard the story, so cannot rightly judge our position here."

As briefly as possible I reviewed the adventures of our little party since leaving New Orleans, and it was good to observe with what growing interest he followed the simple story, interrupting with but few questions until I reached the end. Then his soft hand closed warmly over mine, his eyes upon my face.

"It is a brave tale," he said kindly, "one not unworthy the days of knighthood. Yet, good friend, it is scarcely well for you to think thus tenderly regarding the wife of another. 'T is against the laws of Holy Church, and can only lead to harm and suffering. But, Mother of G.o.d! who am I to pa.s.s judgment?--I, who am also guilty of this sin."

He had uplifted his crucifix, sitting with bowed head before it, with so sad a face I could not forbear questioning.

"Have you, then, such another tale in your life?"

He did not look at me, yet hesitated not in reply.

"Ay, 'tis true, yet not so pure a one. I like not to dwell upon it even in thought; but you have trusted me, and we are here together as men of a common race in face of death. Perchance our hearts may better comprehend each other through such confidences. Do you care to hear my tale?"

"I listen gladly, for in truth I know of nothing better to do," I returned uneasily. "Pish! but I feel as if we were locked in a cell awaiting the headsman."

"Yet G.o.d can open the doors even as He did for Peter," he said solemnly, fastening his eyes on the blue sky. For a moment neither spoke; then the gentle voice took up the story, as if telling it over to himself.

"I was not always of the black robe; only six years since I wore the blue and gold of a soldier of France in the dragoon regiment of Auvergne. I came of good family, and was even known and trusted of the King. But let that pa.s.s. We were stationed at Saint-Rienes, in the south country, as fair a spot, Monsieur, as this world holds, yet strangely inhabited by those discontented under the faith of Holy Church. But we rode rough shod over all such in those days, for it was the will of the King to crush out heresy. 'Tis a pleasure to see the shrinking of a heretic before the wrath of G.o.d. Yet this tale has little to do with this service, however I love to dwell upon it. As I said, we were quartered in garrison at Saint-Rienes, and it was there I first met Marie Fousard, the girl wife of a Captain in His Majesty's Guard. She was a creature of beauty, Monsieur, with clear cheeks, lips of the rose, and great trustful eyes. I was but a boy then, she not much older in years, but with that knowledge of the world and of men which enabled her to make poor, blinded fool--her helpless slave for evil. Merciful Mary! how I did worship her! To me she was as an angel; divinity lurked in her smile and found utterance upon her lips.

I could have died at her word, happy to know it was her pleasure. Yet, as I know now, all the love-making between us was no more than play to her; she merely sought to amuse herself with my pa.s.sion through a dull season. No, not quite all, for back of her smiles lurked a purpose so dark, so diabolical, 'twas not strange I failed to fathom it. 'Tis hard to a.s.sociate crime with such young womanhood, to feel that evil thoughts lurk behind eyes soft with love and lips breathing tenderness.

Yet behind the outer angel of Marie Fousard there was a devil incarnate. I was blind, crazed, helpless to resist an evil I failed to perceive. I loved her; in that pa.s.sion all else was lost. She had confessed love for me; in that was all the heaven I desired. Little by little she fanned within my heart a hatred for the man whose wife she was, my comrade in arms. I cannot relate the details, the stories of wrong, the lies, the upbraidings which turned my blood to flame, picturing him ever to me as a monster. Ah, it means much, Monsieur, when such things are told with tears, when every sob rings in the ears as though crying for vengeance. I listened, believing it all, until deep in my heart hate was born. Once she showed me her shoulder, the white flesh discolored as if by a blow, swearing that he did it. The sight maddened me to action. I left her to seek him at the inn, cursing in my teeth, and caring not what happened, so I killed him.

What boots now the insult offered which forced him to the field? I can see his face yet, full of wonder at my words, doubting my very sanity; yet I saw only her and that bruised shoulder. I would kill him, and I did, running my sword through his body, and gazing down remorselessly into his glazing eyes. What cared I for aught but her? It was a duel, fairly fought, and I was safe from censure. G.o.d! in that hour it never came to me that it was foul murder; that I had stricken down an innocent man at the word of a harlot."

He stopped, his white face buried in his hands, his slender form trembling. I remained motionless. With an effort he resumed.

"I went back to her at our trysting-place, intoxicated by my deed, confident she would come to my arms in grat.i.tude. Instead she laughed, tore from her face the mask of innocence, called me fool, boasted that she had merely used me for her own vile purposes. I shrank away, horrified by my deed, despising her, my love stricken dead. In that moment my life was changed; I cared for nothing except to get away from my fellows, to expiate my sin in the sight of G.o.d. I felt no interest in what became of her; I neither smiled nor wept, when, three days later, she married the prefect of that village. All was over; the fire within me had become ashes."

"But the woman? this Marie Fousard?"

"She went her way, the broad road leading to destruction. We met never again, yet I heard, for there were those eager to tell such things. A year, and the prefect was dead of poison, but, before the gendarmes learned the truth, the widow fled by night taking much property. One D'Anse was her paramour, a sub-lieutenant of hussars. 'T is all I know; they took ship together at Ma.r.s.eilles. Mother of Mercy! wherever she lives it will be under the spell of the Evil One. To my heart G.o.d hath brought peace, but for such as she there can be no peace; she hath been d.a.m.ned already."

I know not how long we sat there motionless, our eyes on the sunlit valley, our thoughts on past years. The father ran the beads swiftly through his white fingers, his lips moving noiselessly; but I found no such help, no such consolation in my struggle. His story was forever ended; mine was not, the very scene beneath bringing home to me anew the desperate burden. Oh, Eloise! Eloise! what of fate awaited us in the coming night shadows? What sacrifice of mine could bring to you life and liberty? It is one thing to rush headlong into danger; a vastly different one to sit awaiting disaster which it is impossible to avert. The desire to act, to attempt something, became an imperative pa.s.sion, and I sprang to my feet.

"Come, _pere_," I broke forth impatiently, "let us get back inside.

Before we are aware it will be night, and we must learn first if there is any chance for escape. We can dream no longer over the past. Saint George! the present holds sufficient work for us to do."

I bore him back in my arms and left him lying beside the savage priest, testing again on him the efficacy of prayer, while Cairnes and I fared forth to explore. We sought long and painfully, trying the walls for some concealed opening, groping in the corners, and squirming through narrow crevices. The effort was useless, except to convince us that the cavern had but the single entrance. All we discovered was an a.s.sortment of odd weapons, war-clubs and stone-tipped spears, collected in one corner of the gallery. Everywhere else were bare walls.

Feeling like rats in a trap we dragged tired limbs back to the altar-room, our sole remaining hope a possible escape down the rocks under the early shadows of the night. This might be accomplished if sufficient time were granted us, and if the good Lord guided. It was a hope, a cheer to the spirits of the others, yet in, my own heart I counted little upon it.

CHAPTER x.x.xV

NIGHT AND THE SAVAGES

The hours of waiting dragged terribly. We conversed little, all alike nervous, irritable under the strain of our desperate situation. The Jesuit was much in prayer; but Cairnes fell asleep and twisted about uneasily, his head pillowed on his arm. I could only pace the rock floor, hara.s.sed by bitter, useless thoughts. What a memory picture it is!--the great bare cavern, with black interior only partially revealed by the gleam of the altar flame; the old savage huddled in his bonds, his baleful eyes glowing in the firelight as he watched every movement; the slender _pere_ close beside him upon his knees, his frayed black gown rendering more conspicuous the rapt, upraised face, his white fingers clasping the crucifix; beyond, Cairnes outstretched on the hard stone, his bulky figure motionless but for nervous twitching, his red hair glaring like a spot of paint. I rejoiced that the fellow slept, for he rasped me with his ceaseless, senseless attacks on the Roman Church. Yet the gentle-voiced priest had tamed his open hatred somewhat; so before he lay down the sectary sat long in moody silence staring at the other with glinting eyes, as though fit speech failed him.

As the sun sank to the horizon I went forth again upon the platform, waving a blazing signal torch to the expectant groups below. The sky overhead was blue, but to the north and east, as far as I could see for overhanging cliff, great ma.s.ses of black cloud were showing ominously, their ragged edges emitting lightning flashes, although too distant for me to distinguish the thunder. Below, in the valley, the approaching storm would not yet be visible; but from my aerie I prayed for a dark night, the swift approach of a battle of the elements.

Arousing Cairnes, who was already awake but lying glowering at the unconscious priest, I despatched him to the jutting platform, with instructions to keep close watch on all movements in the village. Then I busied myself with final preparations for our desperate sortie. The earliest shades of evening would have to be utilized, for then only could we hope for a clear path. Before those wild fanatics swarmed upward to their monthly sacrifice, we must traverse that narrow cliff path and penetrate the tunnel beyond as far as the underground altar.

Nowhere between the cave entrance and that spot could I recall any place of concealment. Inspired by this necessity, so soon as darkness began to blot the mouth of the cave, I bore the priest that way in my arms, although he begged earnestly to be left behind, saying he was a useless burden. The slowly advancing clouds had not yet mounted high enough to obscure the moon, but hung densely ma.s.sed across half the sky, low thunder echoing among the rocks, and jagged streaks of lightning tearing the gloom asunder. The burly Puritan lay, a black silhouette against the silvered rocks, leaning far over, staring down into the void. As I touched him, he turned his face toward me, pointing below with one hand.