Randall Parrish - Prisoners of Chance

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"With whom your previous acquaintance seems to have rendered you most
familiar."

It was a wild, chance shot, for firing which I had no reason excepting
that twice she had openly sneered at that people, and once had spoken
of ships in a way strange to an inland savage. It was worth trying,
however, and I marked her slight start of surprise at my insinuating
tone, and the dark shadow sweeping across her face.

"Think you so, senor? It is passing strange, then, that I should be
ignorant of the tongue."

"Yes, were it true," I made quick reply, encouraged by her manner,
determined now to press this guessing home, and abide results. "But
you had small difficulty comprehending the language a moment back.
Permit me to remind you that it chanced to be French I spoke when first
kneeling at your bedside."

She savagely bit her red lips in rage at my words; yet more, I thought,
at her own forgetfulness.

"Pish! perhaps so;" and she stamped her foot angrily on the stone slabs
of the floor. "What does that prove to my discredit for you to harp
upon?"

Why my accidental words should thus worry her I could not even guess.
Yet, clearly enough, there lay hidden some secret here--a hideous
secret I had harshly probed. Believing this, I felt that I could
enhance my power over her by pressing it relentlessly home with
whatsoever directness of speech I dared to venture. With me, at such a
crisis, decision meant action, and I advanced a step nearer, looking
her directly in the eyes. A single moment she met me with a haughty
stare; then defiance faded away into pleading, and her glance wavered.
Whatever the cause, she was clearly afraid.

"Who--who are you?" she faltered. "Surely we have never met before?"

"As you know already, I am Geoffrey Benteen. I only regret that your
memory is so faulty."

"What is it you know of me?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing, Madame," and I threw into the utterance of these
words all the irony possible. "It is not altogether strange Madame
should forget acquaintances of other days, even her native tongue,
living so long in the wilderness."

It was a reckless shot, but somehow it struck the mark.

"I am a Toltec!" she cried wildly. "You speak to the Daughter of the
Sun."

"No doubt; 'tis a neat superstition with which to overawe savages, yet
there was one once across the water greatly resembling you,--a bit
younger, perhaps,--yet who was content then with a title not nearly so
high-sounding, until--oh, well, what need to tell the rest? Of course,
it was not you?"

I would never have believed so sudden a change could come over the
countenance of a human being, had I not witnessed it with these eyes.
She had sunk back against the couch, her hands pressing her breast as
if to still the wild throbbing of the heart, her great eyes staring at
me in silent horror. Twice her lips moved as if attempting speech, yet
no articulated sound issued from between them.

"Are you a fiend from hell?" she sobbed at last. "Why have you pursued
me here?"

"You do me far too great an honor." I made her a low bow, thoroughly
confident I held the whip hand, provided only I did not overplay my
part. "It is the merest accident of fate which has thus thrown me
again across your path. Nor have I the slightest desire to cause you
trouble, only that through your power may come our safety."

"You--you have not followed me, then?"

"No."

I saw she was diligently studying my face in the dim light, vainly
endeavoring to recall where, under what circumstances, we had met
before.

"Who are you?"

"Bah! what difference can a name make? Surely you are careless enough
about your own to be lenient with another choosing to forget."

"You also are a fugitive?" I caught the sudden ring of hope in her
voice, saw a new light flash into her eyes.

"I have fled the Spaniards," I answered carelessly enough. "What odds
is that, so long as what I did has been for France? Still, as I say, I
have no desire to play you harm provided you deal justly with us all."

"Harm? You? How could you harm me?" she questioned, evidently more at
ease from the change in my tone of speech. "You presume, senor; surely
you forget you address the Queen of the Nahuacs; that even in our
remnant there remain more than a hundred warriors to do my bidding! I
can laugh at threats, senor."

I stared at her coldly.

"As you please, Madame _la reine_ Naladi, Daughter of the Sun, formerly
woman of--ah! so you do not care for me to speak that accursed word?
Well, I thought you might not, so I spare you the shame. 'T is nothing
to me your past, yet I would have you remember there is a people we
both know to whom your miserable horde of savages would be but a
mouthful. This tribe has already tested the sharpness of the French
sword."

Her troubled eyes fell before mine, the last faint gleam of defiance
dying from her face. She glanced about the apartment, evidently
meditating retreat from my presence, or the swift summoning of her
guards. Whichever it might have been, she as evidently thought better
of it, turning toward me once more, no longer a frightened, angry
Amazon, but instead a smiling, pleasant-faced woman.

"We have surely jested long enough, senor," she exclaimed with apparent
lightness of demeanor. "It can never be best for us to be other than
good friends. I doubt not you are a bold man, loyal to those trusting
you, and I honor you for it. Take me, also, into that charmed circle,
yet never forget I am a woman capable of doing great harm if I choose,
for I have those at my command here who would die gladly at my bidding.
The threat of French vengeance moves me little, senor; France is
strong, cruel, relentless; but France is not here."

"Quite true," I replied, feeling best now to permit her to enjoy her
own way. "But France never forgets, never pardons, and France
possesses arms which reach across the seas, even into this wilderness.
All she needs is a guide, and I could become that. Yet if you grant my
request I pledge that no words of mine shall result in your injury."

"Your half threat does not greatly trouble me, senor. I am no frail
reed fearing a puff of air. I merely seek that duty which seems most
fair to all concerned. Pray tell me then what it is you would ask at
my hands. Nay, wait; before we go into this business be seated here,
so we may more easily converse together."

It was a low stool beside the couch she indicated, and I could do no
less than silently accept her courtesy, the soft, mysterious charm of
the woman blunting my prejudice.

"Now, senor," an engaging smile rendering more beautiful the face
turned toward me. "I pray you trust me fully, and state frankly your
demands upon Naladi."

If slightest sarcasm lurked in these softly spoken words I acknowledge
total oblivion to it. Her fair face was the picture of earnestness,
her eyes gazed frankly into mine.

"Our release, Madame."

She lifted her white hands in a sudden gesture of expostulation.

"Why ask that? It is utterly beyond my power, senor--at least, at
once," in a tone of despair, convincing me she spoke truly. "We have
our laws, which must be obeyed. It was the tribe who in battle took
you prisoners, not I; it would cost me my position did I endeavor to
give you immediate release."

"Could it be accomplished later?"

"Possibly it might."

"Will you promise me it shall?"

She hesitated, her eyes downcast, her bosom rising and falling to
tumultuous breathing.

"Yes," at last slowly, as if she had weighed the problem with care. "I
will pledge you my utmost help to that end."

"There is one thing more, Queen Naladi," I contended earnestly. "It is
that Madame de Noyan be permitted meanwhile to abide with her husband."

The fair face darkened ominously. Instead of immediately answering she
stepped across the room; returning, she held in her hands a small box
in which I perceived papers.

"One moment, senor; move your stool here; yes, a trifle to the left
where we may have clearer light shed upon these documents."

I drew it unsuspectingly to the spot indicated by her gesture, bending
forward, wondering what it might be of importance she held in her hands.

"This, senor," she began calmly, slightly unrolling a written sheet,
"is, as you will easily comprehend, the very document causing my
unfortunate exile in this wilderness. You will take notice--"

As she spoke, I felt myself falling. She sprang hastily back, barely
in time to escape my frenzied clutch upon her draperies; for one
instant I clung to the stone slab of the floor desperately. Then she
laughed, her heel crunched on my gripping fingers, and, with one
muffled cry of despair, I went plunging down into the blackness.

CHAPTER XXIX

IN AND OUT THE SHADOW

It is strange I remember so little from that instant when my tortured
hands released their frantic grasp on the stone slab of the floor. I
recall the sharp pain, as that fair-faced fiend stamped upon my
clutching fingers; I heard the echo of sneering laughter with which she
mocked my last upward look of agony, but, with the plunge downward into
that black, unknown abyss, all clear recollection ceased--I even retain
no memory of the severe shock which must have occurred as my fall
ended. Whether excess of fear paralyzed the brain, or what may have
been the cause for such a phenomenon, I know not. I merely state the
fact.

I awoke--how much later God alone knows--lying upon the rough stone
bottom of an awful well, huddled in its blackness. When I finally made
attempt at straightening my cramped limbs it seemed as if each separate
muscle had been beaten and bruised, and it required no little
manipulation before I even recovered sufficient strength to stand
upright and endeavor to ascertain the nature of my grewsome
prison-house. My stiffness caused me to believe that I must have lain
motionless for several hours in the same cramped position into which I
fell, before even regaining consciousness. Another evidence of this
was the blood which, having flowed copiously from a severe cut upon the
back of my head, had so thoroughly hardened as to stanch the ugly
wound, thus, perhaps, preserving my life.

Slowly I returned to a clear realization of my position, for my eyes
opened upon such intense darkness I could scarcely comprehend in my
weakened, dazed condition that it was not all a dream from which I was
yet to awaken. Little by little the mind began asserting itself,
vaguely feeling here and there, putting scrap with scrap, until
returning memory poured in upon me like a flood, and I grasped the
terrible truth that I was buried alive. The knowledge was a deathlike
blow, with which I struggled desperately, seeking to regain control
over my shattered nerves. I recall yet the frenzied laugh bursting
from my lips--seemingly the lips of a stranger--ringing wild and
hollow, not unlike the laughter of the insane; I remember tearing wide
open the front of my doublet, feeling I must surely choke from the
suffocating pressure upon my chest; I retain memory of glaring
violently into the darkness; how I fondled the sharp edge of the
hunting knife, crying and shouting impotent curses, which I trust God
has long ago forgiven, at that incarnate devil who had hurled me down
to such living death. Terror dominated my brain, pulsed like molten
fire through my blood, until, as the desperation of my situation became
more clearly defined, I tottered upon the very verge of insanity,
feeling I should soon become a helpless, gibbering imbecile.

Yet, as I succeeded in staggering weakly to my feet, the movement and
exertion served to quiet my apprehensions, while hope came faintly
back, bringing with it, as though newly born, a determination never to
yield without one manly struggle. I possessed a knife; perchance there
might be discovered some opportunity for using it. With outspread
hands, and groping feet, I attempted to advance, but found I had fallen
so close to the centre of the well that I had to make several steps
before my extended fingers touched the cold wall. This I followed
slowly, passing exploring hands with utmost care over each inch, from
the floor to as high as I could reach on tiptoe, until confident I had
made the complete circuit. It was all the same, vast slabs of flat
stone, welded together by some rude yet effective masonry, the mortar
between impervious to the sharp probing of the knife. Again and again
I made that circuit, testing each crack, sounding every separate stone
in the hope of discovering some slight fault in construction by which I
might profit. Everywhere I was confronted by the same dull, dead wall
of cold, hard rock, against which I exerted strength and skill
uselessly. Finally I dropped upon my knees, creeping inch by inch
across the floor, but with no better result. It likewise was composed
of great slabs of stone, one having an irregular crack running through
it from corner to corner, but all alike solid and immovable.

Then the last faint flicker of hope deserted me. Yet the exercise of
that fruitless search had restored some measure of manhood; my brain no
longer throbbed with dull agony, nor did my veins burn as with liquid
fire. I felt convinced this black vault was destined to become my
grave; here in after years, perhaps, some straying hunter might uncover
my mouldering bones, wondering idly at my unknown story, for here I was
surely doomed to face all that was mysterious and terrible in death.
Well, that end must come to me some time, as to all men; I had seen
many die, and, although fate faced me in far more horrid guise than any
of these others, yet after all it was merely death, and I had no more
cause to fear it here in the dark than yonder in the sunshine.
Besides, I retained the keen knife-blade; if worse came to worse that
was available for release. I passed it caressingly through my fingers,
wondering would God forgive its use if the moment came when I must
choose between insanity and death.

Merciful Heaven! how time dragged! What awful conceptions were formed
in my fevered brain! What leering, sardonic faces pictured themselves
against the black wall; what demon voices spoke and laughed in the void
above! At times I stood in a cave thronged with jeering devils, some
with the savage countenance of the heathen, some yet more satanic; yet
ever in the midst of their maddest orgies, the cruel mockery of the
infamous Naladi appeared more hellish than that of the rest. She
leered down upon me from every side until I seemed to stare into a
thousand faces, each wearing her hateful, sardonic smile.

I paced the floor with feverish impatience, counting my steps from wall
to wall, hoping by this means to retain control of my brain.
Experiencing the sharp pangs of hunger, I slashed a bit of leather from
my belt, and chewed it savagely as a dog might chew a dry bone. In my
despair, I danced, snapping my fingers, and hurling bitter taunts at
the unseen upper world. Exhausted by such useless frenzy, I would sink
prone to the floor, every nerve unstrung, lying there panting in
helplessness until returning strength again sent me back and forth in
that awful tramp from wall to wall. I perceived that the strain of
that horrible haunted silence was driving me mad. There was no escape,
no hope, no peace. Again and again did I break from incoherent ravings
to sink upon my knees, beseeching God for mercy. Yet I arose without
rest, without peace. At last I sank weakly down against the wall and
lay trembling in every limb, staring blindly with wide-open, unseeing
eyes.

I had come to the very end--to that moment when my limbs refused longer
to support my swaying body, when my tortured brain was picturing scenes
of hellish ingenuity. Ah! look! see! yonder comes now another to
torment my soul. O God! Mark that grim, gray face floating against
the wall! Away, you foul fiend! I am not yet your prey! But see! see
how the ghastly horror grows! It is as large as a man; and mark those
long, gaunt arms reaching up until they meet overhead. Suddenly it
seemed to shed a strange, unnatural radiance over the cave. I imagined
I saw things about me. What, Mother of Mercies, can it be? Daylight!
Oh, good God! do my eyes actually look upon the day once more--the
sweet, sweet, blessed day? Surely it is but a dream; yet no! it must
truly be light streaming down from above.

I staggered to my feet, trembling so that I was compelled to clutch the
wall for support. Swinging and swaying down toward me through the dim
light, now in the radiance, anon in the shadow, twisting and turning
like a great snake, a grass rope steadily dropped ring by ring until
its loosened end coiled on the stone floor. I saw it, never believing
the testimony of my own eyes, until my trembling hand had actually
closed upon it. Then, with the touch in my fingers, the hot tears
gushed from my blinded eyes, the tension on my brain gave way, and I
was Geoffrey Benteen once more. A cautious whisper pierced the silence.

"If you remain alive, have you strength to mount the rope quickly?"

So parched and swollen were my lips I could not answer, yet managed to
take stronger grasp upon the cord, and, finding it firmly held above,
made earnest effort to climb. 'Twas a desperate undertaking for one
who had passed through the strain which had befallen me; but now, the
trembling having somewhat passed, I found myself not entirely devoid of
strength, while an intense desire to escape from that hell made me
willing to venture. I was dimly conscious of a face gazing intently
down through the small aperture, yet, with the swaying of that loosened
rope, the slipperiness of its grassy strands between my fingers, I
found little opportunity for glancing upward while slowly winning
toilsome way toward the light. It was as hard a struggle for life as I
ever made, my heart almost ceasing to hope, when I finally felt a hand
close firmly upon the collar of my jacket. With that help, I struggled
on, until, panting and exhausted, I sank upon the skin-carpeted floor
of the apartment from whence I had been hurled into that living tomb.

Half turning as I fell, I gazed into the face of my rescuer,
endeavoring to smile as my glad eyes met those of Eloise de Noyan.

"Oh, hush!" she sobbed. "Do not speak of what you have suffered, for I
read it all in your eyes. Oh, my poor, poor boy! I thank the merciful
Christ you are still alive. Yet I know not how long that demon in form
of woman may be absent; besides, her savage guards are everywhere. The
slightest sound might bring one to the door, and it will be better that
she believe you her victim, buried forever in that foul grave."

I could but gaze at her, my breath coming in sobs of pain.

"How chanced it, Madame, you knew I was thus entombed?" and my hand,
yet bleeding from contact with the rope, ventured to touch her own.
She looked into my eyes bravely, a red flush in either cheek.

"I overheard those bold words you spoke to her last night across the
partition."

"Last night? Rather a week since."

She smiled, her hand-clasp tightening.

"Ah, no, Geoffrey. It has seemed that long even to me waiting
opportunity for service, yet 'tis scarcely eight hours since you were
hurled into yonder hole. See; the sun in the sky tells the story
truly. But every moment we delay only serves to increase our peril of
discovery. Assist me, if you have strength, to relay this stone slab.
It tested my muscles sorely to drag it aside. No doubt there is a
cunning spring somewhere, by use of which it moves easily, yet I sought
after it in vain."

Toiling together we finally succeeded in returning the flat cover to
its proper position in the flooring, and spread over it a thick skin.
Seeing everything was left exactly as when she entered, Madame, who had
become a new woman to my eyes, capable and alert, silently led me
through a narrow curtained recess to the second apartment. This had
evidently been designed as the Queen's reception room, being fairly
gorgeous in coloring, the low walls covered with shields of beaten
copper, while burnished bits of the same metal, mingled with duller
tones of gold and iron, were scattered everywhere in strange profusion.
Varied tinted stones and sea-shells had been built into a raised
platform, on which stood a couch hidden beneath rich robes of skin, and
draped about with multicolored cloth of rude design and texture.
Altogether it was an interior of rich barbaric splendor, savage in its
unusual beauty, yet possessing here and there an odd touch of
civilization almost startling by contrast. You must understand that I
enjoyed little opportunity to gaze about and note such details, for
Madame was impatient of delay, hurrying me forward until we entered
together a partially concealed passage behind where the couch stood.
Here my fair guide paused, thrusting into my hands a quantity of food
hastily appropriated from a long shelf, concealed by a curtain of
scarlet cloth.

"Eat heartily," she commanded quickly, "for you seem very weak.
Meanwhile I will stand here, keeping watch lest we be taken by
surprise. Should I give a signal, lift yonder red curtain at its
farther end, and hide there in silence until I come again."

I partook of the coarse food eagerly enough, yet my eyes were ever upon
her, my lips even finding time for speech.

"Have you some plan, Madame?" I questioned anxiously. "You said but
now this house was held under heavy guard."

"I spoke truly. I may not step forth into the air but some savage is
at my side driving me back again. Oftentimes they peer within when the
Queen is absent, to assure themselves that I am safely caged."

"And this Naladi--does she treat you well?"

The swift color mounted into her clear cheeks.

"Not ill, so far, at least, as relates to the physical," she responded
gravely. "No hand has been angrily laid upon me since I was dragged
forth from the altar-house. Yet there are other forms of torture; and
she constantly mocks me with my helplessness, and, I believe, even
hates me for no better reason than that I stand between her and the
Chevalier."

"You have seen him?"

"No; but have heard his voice while he held private converse with her,
the shameless wanton; have listened to words ill suited to the ears of
a wife. She is a witch, and the slumbering devil in her has made snare
for his weakness."

"I greatly fear there may be truth in this," I returned, scarcely
knowing how best to speak at such a time, marking the agitation of her
breathing. "Naladi is a fair woman, softly spoken and seductive when
it is her purpose to please. There are not many men who could resist
her wiles. Yet possibly, Madame, were you to have converse with the
Chevalier your plea might break the spell."

She turned toward me with proud, impetuous gesture, and I was surprised
at the sudden indignant light glowing within her dark eyes.

"No, Geoffrey Benteen, that will never be. I am this man's wife. He
has vowed himself to me before the sacred altar of Holy Church. Think
you that I, a lady born of France, would abase myself to beseech his
loyalty? Not though life or death hung upon the issue! If he can cast
me aside for the caresses of this savage harlot, he may forever go his
way; never will my hand halt him, or my voice claim his allegiance. I
am his wife before God; to the end I will be true unto my solemn
pledges to Holy Church; yet I hope never to look again upon the false
face of Charles de Noyan."

"Are you not over-hasty in such decision?" I ventured, conscious of a
gladness in my own heart at her impulsive speech. "Possibly this is a
mere passing whim, an idle fancy; he may yet emerge from the craze
purified by trial."

She looked hard at me, as if seeking to penetrate the flimsy mask I
wore, and I beheld a pride in her uplifted face such as had never been
visible there before.

"Such might be the way with some women," she returned firmly. "I am of
a race to whom honor is everything. My father gave his life for no
less, and I hold him right in his choice. I may forgive much of
wrong--ay! have forgiven--yet the stain of dishonor now rests upon the
proud name I bear, and that can never be forgiven. Whether in New
Orleans, or the heart of this wilderness, I am still Eloise Lafreniere,
the daughter of a gentleman of France. I would die by the torture of
these savages before I would surrender the honor due my race."

There was that in her proud speech silencing my tongue from further
expostulation, even had I believed De Noyan deserved a defender. He
had deliberately chosen his path, now let him follow it; any man who
would thus lightly tread on the heart of such a woman was clearly
outside the radius of human sympathy, deserving to be. Certainly I
felt no call to stand between him and his fate.

"I may not comprehend the claims of family pride, Madame," I responded
finally, for want of something better. "Of that I know little. Yet I
cannot contend that your decision is wrong. However, let us talk of
other things, permitting this disagreement to adjust itself. You have
not stated how I am to escape from this present predicament. It surely
looks a problem not easily solved."

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