Gustave Aimard
The Trappers of Arkansas: or, The Loyal Heart
CHAPTER XIX.
THE COUNCIL OF THE GREAT CHIEFS
Notwithstanding the stormy conversation he had had with Eusebio, Eagle Head had continued to treat the prisoners with the greatest kindness, and that extreme delicacy of proceeding which is innate in the red race, and which we should be far from expecting on the part of men whom, without any plausible reason that I am acquainted with, we brand with the name of savages.
There is one fact worthy of being noticed, and upon which we cannot too strongly dwell, and that is the manner in which Indians generally treat their prisoners. Far from inflicting useless tortures upon them, or tormenting them without cause, as has been too often repeated, they take the greatest care of them, and appear, in some sort, to compassionate their misfortune.
In the circumstance of which we speak, the sanguinary determination of Eagle Head with regard to the mother of Loyal Heart was but an exception, the reason for which was naturally found in the hatred the Indian chief had sworn to the hunter.
The separation of the two prisoners was most painful and agonizing; the old servant set off, despair in his soul, in search of the hunter, whilst the poor mother, with a broken heart, followed the Comanche warriors.
On the second day, Eagle Head arrived at the rendez-vous appointed by the great chiefs of the nation; all the tribe was assembled.
Nothing can be more picturesque and singular than the aspect presented by an Indian camp.
When the Indians are on an expedition – whether of war or hunting – on encamping, they confine themselves to erecting, on the spot where they stop, tents of buffalo hides stretched upon poles planted cross-wise. These tents, the bottom parts of which are filled up with mounds of earth, have all a hole at the top, to leave a free issue for the smoke, which, without that precaution, would render them uninhabitable.
The camp presented the most animated picture possible; the squaws passed here and there, loaded with wood and meat, or guided the sledges drawn by dogs, which conveyed their wealth; the warriors, gravely squatted around fires lighted in the open air, on account of the mildness of the temperature, were smoking and chatting together.
And yet it was easy to guess that something extraordinary was about to happen; for notwithstanding the early hour – the sun scarcely appearing above the horizon – the principal chiefs were assembled in the council lodge, where, judging from the grave and reflective expression of their countenances, they were about to discuss some serious question.
This day was the last of those granted by Eagle Head to Eusebio.
The Indian warrior, faithful to his hatred, and in haste to satisfy his vengeance, had convoked the great chiefs in order to obtain their authority for the execution of his abominable project.
We repeat it here, in order that our readers may be perfectly convinced – Indians are not cruel for the pleasure of being so. Necessity is their first law; and never do they order the punishment of a prisoner, particularly a woman, unless the interest of the nation requires it.
As soon as the chiefs were assembled round the fire of council, the pipe bearer entered the circle, holding in his hand the calumet ready lighted; he bowed towards the four cardinal points, murmuring a short prayer, and then presented the calumet to the oldest chief, but retaining the bowl of the pipe in his hand.
When all the chiefs had smoked, one after the other, the pipe bearer emptied the ashes of the pipe into the fire, saying —
"Chiefs of the great Comanche nation, may Natosh (God) give you wisdom, so that whatever be your determination, it may be conformable to justice."
Then, after bowing respectfully, he retired.
A moment of silence followed, in which everyone seemed meditating seriously upon the words that had just been pronounced.
At length the most aged of the chiefs arose.
He was a venerable old man, whose body was furrowed with the scars of innumerable wounds, and who enjoyed among his people a great reputation for wisdom. He was named Eshis (the Sun).
"My son Eagle Head has," he said, "an important communication to make to the council of the chiefs; let him speak, our ears are open. Eagle Head is a warrior as wise as he is valiant; his words will be listened to by us with respect."
"Thanks!" the warrior replied; "my father is wisdom itself. Natosh conceals nothing from him."
The chiefs bowed, and Eagle Head continued.
"The palefaces, our eternal persecutors, pursue and harass us without intermission, forcing us to abandon to them, one by one, our best hunting grounds, and to seek refuge in the depths of the forest like timid deer; many of them even dare to come into the prairies which serve us as places of refuge, to trap beavers and hunt elks and buffaloes which are our property. These faithless men, the outcasts of their people, rob us and assassinate us when they can do it with impunity. Is it just that we should suffer their rapine without complaining? Shall we allow ourselves to be slaughtered like timid ashahas without seeking to avenge ourselves? Does not the law of the prairies say, 'an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth?' Let my father reply; let my brothers say if that is just?"
"Vengeance is allowable," said the Sun; "it is the undoubted right of the weak and the oppressed; and yet it ought to be proportioned to the injury received."
"Good! My father has spoken like a wise man; what think you of it, my brothers?"
"The Sun cannot lie; all that he says is right," the chiefs replied.
"Has my brother cause to complain of anyone?" the old man asked.
"Yes," Eagle Head replied; "I have been insulted by a white hunter; he has several times attacked my camp; he has killed some of my young men in ambush; I myself have been wounded, as you may see – the scar is not yet closed. This man, in short, is the most cruel enemy the Comanches have, for he pursues them like wild beasts, that he may enjoy their tortures, and hear their cries of agony."
At these words, pronounced with an imposing expression, a shudder of anger ran through the assembly. The astute chief, perceiving that his cause was gained in the minds of his auditors, continued, without showing the internal joy he experienced —
"I might have been able, if it had only concerned myself," he said, "to pardon these injuries, however serious they may be; but we have now to deal with a public enemy, with a man who has sworn the destruction of our nation. Hence, however painful be the necessity which constrains me, I ought not to hesitate to strike him in that which is dearest to him. His mother is in my hands. I have hesitated to sacrifice her; I have not allowed myself to be carried away by my hatred. I have wished to be just; and though it would have been so easy for me to kill this woman, I have preferred waiting till you, revered chiefs of our nation, should yourselves give me the order to do so. I have done still more: so repugnant was it to me to shed blood uselessly, and punish the innocent for the guilty, that I have granted this woman a respite of four days, in order to give her son the power of saving her, by presenting himself to suffer in her place. A paleface made prisoner by me is gone in search of him; but that man is a rabbit's heart – he has only the courage to assassinate unarmed enemies. He is not come! he will not come! This morning, at sunrise, expires the delay granted by me. Where is this man? He has not appeared! What say my brothers? Is my conduct just? Ought I to be blamed? Or shall this woman be tied to the stake, so that the palefaced robbers, terrified by her death, may acknowledge that the Comanches are formidable warriors, who never leave an insult unpunished? Have I spoken well, men of power?"
After having pronounced this long speech, Eagle Head resumed his seat, and crossing his arms on his breast, he awaited, with his head cast down, the decision of the chiefs.
A tolerably long silence followed this speech. At length the Sun arose.
"My brother has spoken well," he said. "His words are those of a man who does not allow himself to be governed by his passions; all he has said is just; the whites, our ferocious enemies, are eager for our destruction; however painful for us may be the punishment of this woman, it is necessary."
"It is necessary!" the chiefs repeated, bowing their heads.
"Go!" the Sun resumed, "make the preparations; give to this execution the appearance of an expiation, and not that of a vengeance; everybody must be convinced that the Comanches do not torture women for pleasure, but that they know how to punish the guilty. I have spoken."
The chiefs arose, and after respectfully bowing to the old man, they retired.
Eagle Head had succeeded; he was about to avenge himself, without assuming the responsibility of an action of which he comprehended all the hideousness, but in which he had had the heart to implicate all the chiefs of his nation under an appearance of justice, for which, inwardly, he cared but very little.
The preparations for the punishment were hurried on as fast as possible.
The women cut thin splinters of ash to be introduced under the nails, others prepared elder pith to make sulphur matches, whilst the youngest went into the forest to seek for armfuls of green wood destined to burn the condemned woman slowly, while stifling her with the smoke it would produce.
In the meantime, the men had completely stripped the bark off a tree which they had chosen to serve as the stake of torture; they had then rubbed it well with elk fat mixed with red ochre; round its base they had placed the wood of the pyre, and this done, the sorcerer had come to conjure the tree by means of mysterious words, in order to render it fit for the purpose to which they destined it.
These preparations terminated, the condemned was brought to the foot of the stake, and seated, without being tied, upon the pile of wood intended to burn her; and the scalp dance commenced.
The unfortunate woman was, in appearance, impassible. She had made the sacrifice of her life; nothing that passed around her could any longer affect her.
Her eyes, burning with fever and swollen with tears, wandered without purpose, over the vast crowd that enveloped her with the roarings of wild beasts. Her mind watched, nevertheless, as keenly and as lucidly as in her happiest days. The poor mother had a fear which wrung her heart and made her endure a torture, compared with which those which the Indians were preparing to inflict upon her were as nothing; she trembled lest her son, warned of the horrid fate that awaited her, should hasten to save her, and give himself up to his ferocious enemies.
With her ear attentive to the least noise, she seemed to hear every instant the precipitate steps of her son flying to her assistance. Her heart bounded with fear. She prayed God from the very depths of her soul to permit her to die instead of her beloved child.
The scalp dance whirled ferociously around her.
A crowd of warriors, tall, handsome, magnificently dressed, but with their faces blackened, danced, two by two, round the stake, led by seven musicians armed with drums and chicikoués, who were striped with black and red, and wore upon their heads feathers of the screech owl, falling down behind.
The warriors had in their hands guns and clubs, ornamented with black feathers and red cloth, of which they brought the butts to the ground as they danced.
These men formed a vast semicircle around the stake; in face of them, and completing the circle, the women danced.
Eagle Head, who led the warriors, carried a long staff, at the end of which was suspended a human scalp, surmounted by a stuffed pie with its wings out-spread; a little lower on the same stick were a second scalp, the skin of a lynx, and some feathers.
When they had danced thus for an instant, the musicians placed themselves by the side of the condemned, and made a deafening noise, singing, whilst beating the drums with all their force, and shaking the chicikoués.
This dance continued a considerable time, accompanied by atrocious howlings, enough to madden with terror the unfortunate woman to whom they presaged the frightful tortures that awaited her.
At length Eagle Head touched the condemned lightly with his stick. At this signal the tumult ceased as if by enchantment, the ranks were broken, and everyone seized his weapons.
The punishment was about to begin!
CHAPTER XX.
THE TORTURE
As soon as the scalp dance was over, the principal warriors of the tribe ranged themselves before the stake, their arms in hand, whilst the women, particularly the most aged, fell upon the condemned, abusing her, pushing her, pulling her hair, and striking her, without her opposing the least resistance, or seeking to escape the ill-treatment with which they loaded her.
The unfortunate woman only hoped for one thing, and that was to see her punishment begin.
She had watched with feverish impatience the whirlings of the scalp dance, so greatly did she fear to see her beloved son appear and place himself between her and her executioners.
Like the ancient martyrs, she in her heart accused the Indians of losing precious time in useless ceremonies; if she had had the strength, she would have reprimanded them, and rallied them upon their slowness and the hesitation they seemed to display in the sacrifice.
The truth was, that in spite of themselves, and although this execution appeared just, the Comanches had a repugnance to torture a helpless woman, already aged, and who had never injured them, either directly or indirectly.
Eagle Head himself, notwithstanding his hatred, felt something like a secret remorse for the crime he was committing. Far from hastening on the last preparations, he only assisted with an indecision and a disgust that he could not succeed in surmounting.
For intrepid men, accustomed to brave the greatest perils, it is always a degrading action to torture a weak creature, or a woman who has no other defence than her tears. If it had been a man, the agreement would have been general throughout the tribe to tie him to the stake.
Indian prisoners laugh at punishment, they insult their executioners, and, in their death songs, they reproach their conquerors with their cowardice, their inexperience in making their victims suffer; they enumerate their own brave deeds, they count the enemies they scalped before they themselves yielded; in short, by their sarcasms and their contemptuous attitudes, they excite the anger of their executioners, reanimate their hatred, and, to a certain point, justify their ferocity.
But a woman, weak and resigned, presenting herself like a lamb to the shambles, already half dead, what interest could such an execution offer?
There was no glory to be gained, but, on the contrary, a general reprobation to draw upon themselves.
The Comanches comprehended all this, thence their repugnance and hesitation. Nevertheless, the business must be gone through.
Eagle Head approached the prisoner, and delivering her from the harpies who annoyed her, said in a solemn voice —
"Woman, I have kept my promise; your son is not come, you are about to die."
"Thanks," she said, in a tremulous voice, leaning against a tree to avoid falling.
"Are you not afraid of death?" he asked.
"No," she replied, fixing upon him a look of angelic mildness; "it will be most welcome; my life has been nothing but one long agony; death will be to me a blessing."
"But your son?"
"My son will be saved if I die; you have sworn it upon the bones of your fathers."
"I have sworn it."
"Deliver me up to death, then."
"Are the women of your nation, then, like Indian squaws, who view torture without trembling?" the chief asked, with astonishment.
"Yes," she replied with great agitation; "all mothers despise it when the safety of their children is at stake."
"Listen," said the Indian, moved with involuntary pity; "I also have a mother whom I love; if you desire it, I will retard your punishment till sunset."
"What should you do that for?" she replied with terrible simplicity. "No, warrior; if my grief really touches you, there is one favour, one favour alone which you can grant me."
"Name it," he said earnestly.
"Put me to death immediately."
"But if your son arrives?"
"Of what importance is that to you? You require a victim, do you not? Very well, that victim is before you, you may torture her at your pleasure. Why do you hesitate? Put me to death, I say."
"Your desire shall be satisfied," the Comanche replied in a melancholy tone. "Woman, prepare yourself."
She bowed her head upon her breast, and waited. Upon a signal from Eagle Head, two warriors seized the prisoner, and tied her to the stake round the waist.
Then the exercise of the knife began; this is what it consists of: —
Every warrior seizes his scalping knife by the point with the thumb and the first finger of his right hand, and launches it at the victim, so as to inflict only slight wounds.
Indians, in their punishments, endeavour to make the tortures continue as long as possible, and only give their enemy the coup de grâce when they have torn life from him by degrees, and, so to say, piecemeal.
The warriors launched their knives with such marvellous skill, that all of them just grazed the unfortunate woman, inflicting nothing more than scratches.
The blood, however, flowed, she closed her eyes, and, absorbed in herself, prayed fervently for the mortal stroke.
The warriors, to whom her body served as a target, grew warmer by degrees; curiosity, the desire of showing their skill, had taken in their minds the place of the pity they had at first felt. They applauded with loud shouts and laughter the prowess of the most adroit.
In a word, as it always happens, as well among civilized people as among savages, blood intoxicated them; their self-love was brought into play; everyone sought to surpass the man who had preceded him; all other considerations were forgotten.
When all had thrown their knives, a small number of the most skilful marksmen of the tribe took their guns.
This time it was necessary to have a sure eye, for an ill-directed ball might terminate the punishment, and deprive the spectators of the attractive spectacle which promised them so much pleasure.
At every discharge the poor creature shrank within herself, though giving no signs of life beyond a nervous shudder which agitated her whole body.
"Let us have an end of this," said Eagle Head, who felt, in spite of himself, his heart of bronze soften before so much courage and abnegation. "Comanche warriors are not jaguars; this woman has suffered enough; let her die at once."
A few murmurs were heard among the squaws and the children, who were the most eager for the punishment of the prisoner.
But the warriors were of the opinion of their chief; this execution, shorn of the insults that victims generally address to their conquerors, possessed no attraction for them, and, besides, they were ashamed of such inveteracy against a woman.
Hence they spared the unfortunate woman the splinters of wood inserted under the nails, the sulphur matches fastened between the fingers, the mask of honey applied to the face that the bees might come and sting them, together with other tortures too long and hideous to enumerate, and they prepared the funeral pile upon which she was to be burnt.
But before proceeding to the last act of this atrocious tragedy, they untied the poor woman; for a few minutes they allowed her to take breath and recover from the terrible emotions she had undergone.
She sank on the ground almost insensible.
Eagle Head approached her.
"My mother is brave," he said; "many warriors would not have borne the trials with so much courage."
A faint smile passed over her violet lips.
"I have a son," she replied with a look of ineffable sweetness; "it is for him I suffer."
"A warrior is happy in having such a mother."
"Why do you defer my death? It is cruel to act thus; warriors ought not to torment women."
"My mother is right, her tortures are ended."
"Am I going to die at last?" she asked with a sigh of relief.
"Yes, they are preparing the pile."
In spite of herself, the poor woman felt a shudder of horror thrill her whole frame at this fearful intimation.
"Burn me!" she cried with terror; "why burn me?"
"It is the usual custom."
She let her head sink into her hands; but soon recovering, she drew herself up, and raised an inspired glance towards Heaven, —
"My God!" she murmured with resignation, "Thy will be done!"
"Does my mother feel herself sufficiently recovered to be fastened to the stake?" the chief asked in something like a tone of compassion.
"Yes!" she said rising resolutely.
Eagle Head could not repress a gesture of admiration. Indians consider courage as the first of virtues.
"Come, then," he said.
The prisoner followed him with a firm step – all her strength was restored, she was at length going to die!
The chief led her to the stake of blood, to which she was bound a second time; before her they piled up the faggots of green wood, and at a signal from Eagle Head, they were set on fire.
The fire did not for some time take, on account of the moisture of the wood, which discharged clouds of smoke; but, after a few moments, the flame sparkled, extended by degrees, and then acquired great intensity.
The unfortunate woman could not suppress a cry of terror.
At that moment a horseman dashed at full speed into the midst of the camp; at a bound he was on the ground, and before anyone could have opposed him, he tore away the burning wood from the pile, and cut the bonds of the victim.
"Oh! why have you come?" the poor mother murmured, sinking into his arms.
"My mother! ho, pardon me!" Loyal Heart cried, "my God! how you must have suffered."
"Begone, begone, Rafaël!" she repeated, smothering him with kisses; "leave me to die in your place; ought not a mother to give her life for her child?"
"Oh do not speak so, my mother! you will drive me mad," said the young man, clasping her in his arms with despair.
By this time the emotion caused by the sudden appearance of Loyal Heart had subsided, the Indian warriors had recovered that stoicism which they affect under all circumstances.
Eagle Head advanced towards the hunter.
"My brother is welcome," he said, "I had given over expecting him."
"I am here; it was impossible to arrive sooner; my mother is free, I suppose?"
"She is free."
"She may go where she pleases?"
"Where she pleases."
"No," said the prisoner, placing herself resolutely in front of the Indian chief, "it is too late, it is I who am to suffer; my son has no right to take my place."
"Dear mother, what are you saying?"
"That which is just," she replied with animation; "the time at which you were to have come is past, you have no right to be here to prevent my death. Begone, begone, Rafaël, I implore you! – Leave me to die to save you," she added, bursting into tears and throwing herself into his arms.
"My mother," the young man replied, returning her caresses, "your love for me misleads you; I cannot allow such a crime to be accomplished, I alone ought to be here."
"My God! my God!" the poor mother exclaimed, sobbing, "he will not understand anything! I should be so happy to die for him."
Overcome by emotions too powerful for nature, the poor mother sunk fainting into the arms of her son.
Loyal Heart impressed a long and tender kiss upon her brow, and placing her in the hands of Nô Eusebio, who had arrived some minutes before: said in a voice choked with grief.
"Begone, poor mother, may she be happy, if happiness can exist for her without her child."
The old servant sighed, pressed the hand of Loyal Heart warmly, and placing the lifeless form of his mistress before him in the saddle, he turned his horse's head and left the camp slowly, no one attempting to oppose his departure.
Loyal Heart looked after his mother as long as he could see her; then, when she disappeared, and the steps of the horse that bore her could no longer be heard, he breathed a deep, broken sigh, and passing his hand over his brow, murmured, —
"All is ended! My God, watch over her!"
Then, turning towards the Indian chief who surveyed him in silence, mingled with respect and admiration – he said in a firm clear voice, and with a contemptuous look, —
"Comanche warriors! you are all cowards! brave men do not torture women!"
Eagle Head smiled.
"We shall see," he said ironically, "if the pale trapper is as brave as he pretends to be."
"At least I shall know how to die like a man," he replied haughtily.
"The mother of the hunter is free."
"Yes. Well! what do you want with me?"
"A prisoner has no arms."
"That's true," he said, with a smile of contempt, "I will give you mine."
"Not yet, if you please, good friend!" said a clear, sarcastic voice; and Belhumeur rode up, bearing across the front of his saddle a child of four or five years of age, and a rather pretty young Indian Squaw securely fastened to the tail of his horse.
"My son! my wife!" cried Eagle Head, in great terror.
"Yes," said the Canadian jeeringly, "your wife and child, whom I have made prisoners. Ah ah! that is pretty well played, is it not?"
At a signal from his friend, Loyal Heart bounded on the woman, whose teeth chattered with fear, and who cast terrified looks on all sides.
"Now," Belhumeur continued with a sinister smile, "let us talk a bit; I think I have equalized the chances a little – what say you?"
And he placed the muzzle of a pistol to the brow of the little creature, which uttered loud cries on feeling the cold iron.
"Oh!" cried Eagle Head, in a tone of despair, "my son! restore me my son!"
"And your wife – do you forget her?" Belhumeur replied, with an ironical smile, and shrugging his shoulders.
"What are your conditions?" Eagle Head asked.
