The Land of Bondage
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It seemed, indeed, as though this man had, in his shrewdness, penetrated the innermost thoughts of the Bear, for ere we had been an hour on the march he, halting his horse so as to send the advance party of his warriors on ahead, drew alongside of us and, after a silence of some minutes, said:
"White people who have dwelt for so long on the lands that once were ours, know you why your village, which has been spared by us for now so many moons, has been once more attacked and put to the slaughter by the braves of my tribe?"
No one answered him for some short space of time, but at last I, to whom he seemed particularly to address himself, said:
"We have no knowledge of why this should be, seeing that 'tis now almost two generations since those who were once our forefathers' friends attacked us. We had hoped that never would they do so again, since we have kept to our own lands and never sought to do evil to you or those of your race."
"Never sought to do evil, maiden! Nay, pause. Have 'you not now for more than fifty moons been dreaming of a raid to be made on us, of more red men to be slaughtered, more lands to be seized?"
"Never," I replied. "Never. I know all that has been thought of and every scheme that has been projected in our midst, yet there was never aught of this. Nay, so little did we dream of such an attack as you have made on us that, though we went always armed, 'twas more because of the custom which had grown upon us than for any other reason, and, if Indians came about we thought 'twas to take our cattle and our herds more than to massacre us."
"Yet it was told to us that your men were projecting a great war against us; that even from your other land beyond the deep waters warriors were being sent forth who should come and slay us all. That strange implements of war were being devised for our certain destruction, and that all of us were to be slaughtered and our lands and wives taken from us."
"Then," I replied, "you were told a base lie."
"Ay," exclaimed Buck from behind, "and I'll bet a guinea I know who told it."
The chief's eyes fell on him and rested on his face; then he spoke again, bidding him, since he said he knew who 'twas, to name the person.
"Name him," said Buck, "name him. Ay, that can I in the first guess. Why, 'twas that cursed, cringing hound, Roderick St. Amande, who fled from my pretty mistress's house when her father smote off his ear for daring to insult her. That's who it was, my noble chief."
"Smote off his ear!" exclaimed Anuza, while in his face there came the nearest approach to astonishment that I saw there during the time I was brought into contact with him. "Smote off the ear of the Child of the Sun. Yet he told us-he-is this the word of truth?"
"If that cursed impostor is the Child of the Sun-the Child of the Devil, ho, ho! – then 'tis most certainly the truth. Here's my lady who can tell you 'tis true. She saw it done. And, noble chief, is that the one, that poor, miserable hound, who told you of the attack that was to be made on you and yours?"
The chief replied not but rode on by our side, his eyes bent on his horse's mane and he seemingly wrapped in thought. But he spake no more to us that day, and we knew that he was meditating on how he and all his tribe had been imposed on by the wretch Roderick. So we journeyed on until at last we stood at the foot of the mountains, and with, before us, the town of the Shawnees. 'Twas a strange sight to our eyes!
All around a vast space sheltered or, at least, surrounded by countless trees, amongst which were the long-leaved pine, the great cypress and the greater cedar, with some sweet orange trees as well as myrtles and magnolias, we saw the Indian stockades, their great protections from man or beast. For over those pointed poles, topped in many cases with iron barbs, neither foeman nor fierce animal could spring or make their way through. Then, within these, there came the tents or houses of the ordinary fighting men, the latter being little huts, yet large enough, perhaps, for four or five to repose within. A circle of chiefs' tents succeeded next to these, the sheafs of poles gathered together at the top being decorated sometimes with banners, sometimes with gaudy silken drapery, sometimes, alas! with human heads from which the hair had been torn. That hair had another destination. It was to decorate the interior of the tents-to be gloated over by the savage chiefs within and by their squaws, or wives. In the middle of all was-regardlessly of the health of the encampment-a tomb of the chiefs, a horrid erection of wood in which the shrivelled remains were laid side by side to the number of a dozen, their heads towards the passers-by, their mummified bodies naked, and before them a wood fire burning-perhaps to dispel any vapours. Thus they lay in the exact interior of the camp, each one remaining there through the four seasons and then being buried in the earth. And to guard over and preserve them, as the savages thought, was a hideous painted figure of wood, rudely carved, which they call Kyvash, or the God of the Dead.
And now we were to learn what had been the amount of destruction done to the homes where we had all dwelt so peacefully and happily together; we of our party were to learn that which we had so much longed to know, namely, what had happened to those of our friends and neighbours who dwelt in and around Pomfret. For in that encampment we met other prisoners like ourselves who had been brought away by the detachments of the band who had stormed their houses. We saw, alas! the best of our men captives in the hands of the savages. Seated on a log outside a tent, his hands tied cruelly behind his back, I saw Bertram Pringle, a fair-haired young man who was the leader of all the diversions of our neighbourhood, and the best dancer as well as sportsman for miles around. There, too, was Roger Clibourne, one of our largest estate owners and wealthiest of planters; there was one of the Byrds of Westover (he being sadly wounded) as well as several rough backwoodsmen, who must have fought hard ere they surrendered; and many other owners and white servants were also prisoners. But, I thanked God, there were no other women but ourselves, and my cousin was not, as the wretch Roderick had said, amongst them.
"Why, Joice," said Roger, calling to me as I passed by with the others, "why, my dear" – we had grown up boy and girl together-"this is, indeed, a sorry sight. Oh! Mr. Kinchella, could you not put a bullet in their brains or a knife to their throats ere you let Joice and your sweetheart be captured and brought here."
"Hush! Hush!" I said to him, pausing on my way, as we all did, our guards making no resistance. "Hush! Indeed, I think we are in no such great danger. Anuza, the chief, who stormed my house, has found out that their great medicine man, who was undoubtedly the instigator of the attack upon us all, is none other than that horrid villain, Roderick St. Amande."
"Roderick St. Amande!" the others, including the backwoodsmen, exclaimed, "Roderick St. Amande. Nay, 'tis impossible."
"Indeed, indeed 'tis true. We of our party have all seen him and spoken with him; nay, heard him gloat over all the horrors of the attack and threaten us with what awaits us here. But, but-the chief heard him too, and also heard Mary denounce him, and, I think, he meditates worse against him than any of us because he hath deceived them so."
"Is your chief powerful enough to do thus?" Bertram Pringle asked. "Ours, our captor, is, we have heard, the head of the whole tribe and the greatest friend of their medicine man. Suppose he believes not what your conqueror tells him?"
"Then," said Buck, "we will give him some proofs that shall make him believe. I can do any trick Mr. Roderick St. Amande can, either with cards, palming, or what not, and if they place faith in him for any of his hanky-panky, hocus-pocus passes, why, they'll fall down and worship me! I wasn't the conjurer at many a booth for nothing before I took to more elevating pursuits."
And now the lads asked us how we had parted from that other one of whom I thought hourly and only-though they knew it not! – and when I told them how I had left him wounded and bleeding their sorrow was great. But they said that, if the Indians did not proceed to any violence towards us, a rescue must be attempted before long, since every other hamlet and town would know by now what had befallen us of Pomfret, and doubtless an expedition would soon set out to seek for us.
So we passed on to where our guards led us, namely, to a great tent made of hay and straw, and then we composed ourselves for the night and, after Mr. Kinchella had said a prayer for our safety in which we most fervently joined, got what sleep we might. But once during that night I woke and then screamed aloud, for as I turned my eyes to the opening of the tent I saw, gazing in, the horrid face of Roderick St. Amande, and his own eyes gloating over us. But at my scream, and almost ere the others were aroused, the face was withdrawn, and nothing more was seen at the opening but the figure of the Indian sentry outside as he paced to and fro in the moonlight, and nought heard but the soft fall of his moccasined feet on the earth, or sometimes the cry of an Indian child or dog.
That the next day was to be one of great importance was easy to see from the moment it dawned. Towards a belt of pines which grew upon the rise of the hills there were already proceeding groups of Indians, some bearing in their hands the skins of animals and blankets dyed divers colours; banners, too, were being affixed to the trees as though in preparation for some great feast. We noted, also, that many of the Indian women and maidens-with, alas! amongst them some girls and women who were not Indian born, but white women-were finely dressed as though for a gala. As we ate of the food which our guards brought us-though three, at least, of our little band had no appetite for it-the door was darkened by the form of Anuza, and, a moment later, his great body stood within the tent, while we observed that he, too, was now arrayed in all the handsome trappings that bespoke the rank of a great chief. His short-sleeved tunic of dressed deer-skin was ornamented with the polished claws of his totem, the Grizzly Bear; on the shield he bore were the same emblems; even his long black hair, twisted up now like a coronet beneath his plumed bonnet of feathers, was decorated with one claw set in gold. In his wampum belt, fringed and tasselled with bright shells, he carried a long knife and a pair of pistols richly inlaid with silver and ivory-won, doubtless, in some earlier foray with our race-at his back hung down a bleached bearskin cloak to which, by a sash or loop, were suspended his tomahawk and bow. As I gazed on him I understood, if I had never understood before, what our forefathers meant when sometimes they spoke of the Indian as a splendid, or a noble, savage.
Behind him, borne upon a litter by two other Indians, came one the like of whom I had never seen, an old Indian of surely a hundred years of age; his eyes gone and, in their place, nought but the white balls to be observed. His head, with still some few sparse hairs left on it, bent on his breast, his hands were shrivelled like unto those of the mummies of which I have read, and his body, even on so hot a day as this, was enveloped in a great bearskin adorned with the gay plumage of many bright-coloured birds.
As Anuza strode into the tent, or Wigwam, leaving the old man outside in the sun, he made a grave salutation to us all; but it seemed directed to me more especially, and then he said:
"Peace be with you all. And, white maiden," he went on, addressing me, while to my surprise he bent his knee before me, "though death awaits you and yours to-day, yet it shall not claim you while the Bear is by. Nor, had I known that which he, my father, has told me, should the hand of Anuza have been raised against you or your house, or aught within it." While, as he spoke, I gazed wonderingly at him, not knowing what his words might mean.
CHAPTER XXIII
DENOUNCED
Yet the explanation or meaning, when it came, was simple indeed. Many years before, nay, more than fifty, when my grandfather, Mark Bampfyld, owned and ruled at Pomfret Manor, his wife strolling in the woods had met and succoured a wounded Indian who had been shot at by some other colonist and had dragged himself to where she found him. Now, at that time the Indian was hated in all Virginia more, perhaps, than he had ever been before or since, for the memory of how he and his had been our firm allies was still fresh in all men's memories, so that their new enmity to us was even more bitterly felt than at any other period. To succour an Indian, therefore, at this period, was to do a thing almost incredible, a thing not to be believed of one colonist by another, and, by the Indian himself, to be regarded as something that could never by any chance occur. Yet this thing my grandmother, Rebecca, had done; she had tended and nursed that savage, who was none other than the father of Anuza now without our tent-himself, also Anuza the Bear-she had sent him forth a well man to return to his own people, and, ere going, he had vowed to her, placing his fingers on the scars of his wounds to give his vows emphasis, that none of his blood or race should ever again injure those of hers.
Yet now was I-who had never heard aught of this before-a captive in his son's hands.
"But, oh! white maiden," said Anuza the younger, while the old, sightless man nodded his head gravely, "had I known aught of this, I would have smitten off my hands or slain myself ere harm should have come to you or yours; yea, even before a tree on your lands should have been hurt or so much as a dog injured. And neither you nor these others are captives to me longer, though I doubt if, even now, Senamee, who is chief over us all, will let you go in peace. For he is as the puma who has the lamb within its jaws when an enemy is in his hands, and he hearkens to the medicine man, who your sister says is but a cheat, and who hates you all."
"But," said Mr. Kinchella and Mary together, "that cheat can be exposed; surely if he is proved no medicine man but only a poor trickster, the chief will not hearken to him."
"Senamee loves much the blood of his enemies," Anuza repeated; "I know not if that exposure will save you. It is more to be feared that he will sacrifice both him and you."
"And can he, this chief, Senamee, do this even when you, a chief, and your father a chief also, desire to save us?"
"He can do it in one way only," the Bear replied. "He can only do it if I refuse my sanction, since I of all the tribe stand next to him, by slaying me in fight."
"And can he slay you?" exclaimed Mary, as her eyes fell on his splendid proportions. "Is there any of your tribe who can overthrow you?"
The Indian is but human after all, and on Anuza's usually calm and impassive face there came, it seemed to me, a look of gratification at the praise of his great form from a handsome woman.
"I know not," he replied, "whether he can slay me, but this I know, that he must do so ere harm comes to those who are of the tribe of her who succoured him," pointing to his father. "That must he do, for already I am accursed of the god of my tribe in that I have lifted my hand against one who draws her life through another who pitied and cared for my father. To remove that curse, I must hold you and yours free from further harm."
The old Anuza, sitting there in the sun, nodded his head and whispered some words to himself in Indian, which we thought to mean agreement with his son, wherefore I said:
"But why, Anuza, why, if this is so, did you take part in and encourage this attack upon our village, upon our houses and our lives; why, if thus you felt towards us?"
"My father knew not our war trail," replied the chief, "he knew not which way we took our course; he knew not where that false priest, the medicine man, led us. And, oh! white woman," he said casting himself at my feet, "oh! you, who rule over your tribe and these your kin and servants, give your pardon to me who sinned unknowing what I did, and believe-believe, I say, that while I can shelter you harm shall not come near to you. I, the Bear, who has never lied, promise that."
I bade him rise, telling him that we would believe in him and trust to him for safety, when in our ears there arose the most horrid din, the clanging of spears on shields, the firing of matchlocks-with which the Indians were well armed, and which they had been taught to use in the days when they dwelt at peace with us-the howling of the swarms of dogs that were in the encampment, and many other noises.
"Hark," exclaimed Anuza, "'tis Senamee who goes to take his seat and to commence the tortures" – we started-"but fear not. To you harm shall not come. But you must go before him now. It is best so. Come, and fear not."
Thus we went forth escorted by the Bear and those of his guards with him, and so we reached the plantation of pines that grew upon the mountain slope. Senamee, the chief of all the tribe, was already seated on a great stone rudely carved into the shape of a chair, while, by his side, we noticed similar ones made of wood, over all of which were thrown skins and blankets. He it was, we learnt afterwards, who had directed the principal attack upon the village, and who had stormed the homes of the Pringles, Clibornes, and Byrds. These were standing before him, bound, but looking defiant and gallant as they cast their eyes round on all the Indian warriors as well as the women and children, and, even from their servants and some of the rough backwoodsmen who were also captured, no sign of fear was forthcoming. Indeed, fierce and dreaded as the Indian was by the colonist and his dependants, there was always in the minds of the latter a tinge of contempt mixed with that dread. That contempt was born, perhaps, of the feeling that, in the end, our race invariably overbore theirs; that gradually their lands had become ours, even if by just and fair bargain. Also that, subtle, crafty, and cruel as the savage might be and dreadful when attacking from his ambush, in all open encounter he was no match for the men in whose veins ran the good, brave blood of their old English ancestors.
"You come late, Anuza," exclaimed Senamee as, striding through the assembled crowd, the Bear made his way to a seat opposite the chief and motioned to us to follow him, while to Mary and to me he signed that we should seat ourselves on the fur-covered bench beside him. "You come late." Then, observing the other's action to us and our taking the indicated seat, he said, "What means this, and why are the pale face women honoured in the presence of their conquerors? They are prisoners here, not guests to sit by our sides."
"At this moment, oh! Senamee, seek to know nothing," replied Anuza, "nor ask why the pale face women are seated by my side. Later on all shall be told you." We saw a look of astonishment appear on the face of all the other captives at this answer, though it but confirmed in part that which we had told them overnight, and we saw also a dark scowl come on the painted face of Senamee, while he muttered to himself, "'Twill not please the Child of the Sun who is on his way here," but he said no more.
That the person so termed, the wretched impostor, Roderick St. Amande, was now on his way we soon learnt. Slowly through the assembled crowd of warriors, women and others, there came now a dozen or more young Indian girls habited in fawn-skin tunics reaching to their knees, with, rudely embroidered on them, golden and silver suns. These were the priestesses who assisted at whatever rites and ceremonies their master chose to perform, and were always in attendance on him, as we learnt hereafter. Then, next to them-who, as they passed, sang or crooned a most dismal dirge, though doubtless 'twas meant as a hymn of praise-there came his guards, picked braves whose duty it was to be always near him. Behind them, came he himself, walking slowly but with his head erect and casting on all the white captives a look at once triumphant and scornful. Yet, as he passed by Anuza to enter the circle, he started with surprise, a surprise bred doubtless of seeing us seated by that chief's side and also from noticing that, amongst all the Indians who were now prostrating themselves reverently before him, the Bear alone did not do so but sat calm and unmoved.
For a moment only he stopped to gaze on us all seated and standing there, yet 'twas long enough for him to see the contempt on the faces of Mary and myself and Mr. Kinchella, the look of cold indifference on that of the Bear, and the mocking grins on the faces of Buck and his companions. Then, going on to the seat reserved for him by the side of Senamee, he sat himself in it and whispered a few words to that chief. But the warrior only shook his head and seemed unable to find any answer to the questions the other was undoubtedly asking him. Next, he spake to one of his guards, who a moment afterwards ordered that all in that place kept silence while the great medicine man, the true Child of the Sun, addressed them, and on that silence being observed he spake as follows:
"Dogs and slaves of the Shawnee race and Doegs," such being his gracious form of addressing them, "dogs and slaves whom the Great Spirit has so favoured as to send me, the only true Child of the Sun, to be your medicine man, chief orator, prophet, and civil ruler, hear me. Owing to my counsel, inspired by my father, the Sun, you have within the last few days achieved a great victory over the white slaves who dwell to the east of these mountains. You have destroyed their town and brought hither as prisoners those whom you have not slain. This, since you are but red dogs and slaves, whom I account but little better than the pale faces, you could never have done but for my assistance, both in putting spells on your enemies and in seeking the assistance of my father, the Sun."
Here Buck burst into so strident a roar of laughter that Senamee sprang to his feet and grasped his tomahawk, while he made as though about to rush at the scoffer and slay him. But the impostor stopped him, saying, "Heed him not; he is mad. And he is but the slave of the white woman." Then, continuing, "This victory, I say, you could never have obtained but for me, and therefore I call on you all, Shawnees and Doegs, to fall down and prostrate yourselves at my feet and worship me in this our day of triumph."
All, with the exception of the Bear, rose to do so, but as they were about to cast themselves to the earth the wretch suddenly stayed them by a motion of his hand, and exclaimed, "But, hold. Ere you do so let the white women who I have set apart as my own prize come hither to me. They are mine, I have chosen them; let them come hither and kneel at my feet as my handmaidens. Come, I say."
As we, Mary and I, made no motion to do his bidding but only turned our eyes in appeal towards Anuza, Roderick St. Amande said some words to two of his guards, who at once crossed the open circle to where we sat, evidently with the view of seizing us and carrying us to him.
But as they approached near to us, Anuza, still sitting calmly, said:
"Hold! Come no nearer. These pale faces are my captives, and shall remain by me."
The two warriors turned in astonishment towards the impostor, as though asking for further commands, but ere he could give any-and we now saw on his face a look that seemed born half of rage and half of terror-the Bear rose from his seat and striding forth to them, while he grasped his tomahawk, said:
"Back to your places at once, or I will slay you here before me. Back, I say, and obey my orders, not his."
His appearance was so terrible that these two men, although themselves splendid savages of great size and build, shrank away from him and retreated towards their master. As for that master, his face was strange to see. He screamed at Anuza, calling him "Indian dog," "accursed one," and many other names, and stamped his foot and waved his arms in the air, as though invoking something dreadful on his head. Yet was it plain to see that, through all his assumed power of superiority, he was indeed alarmed at Anuza's conduct and knew not what to make of it.
But now Senamee interfered, saying, while he directed fierce glances at the other:
"Anuza, son of the Bear, what means this conduct? Has madness entered into your brain that thus you revolt against him whom the Sun God has sent to succour us and to give us power over all our enemies, or has your heart turned black with ingratitude towards the great medicine man who has so long ruled over our destinies, who has made our crops to thrive and our cattle to increase tenfold? And have you forgotten that to him we owe blessings for the victory over the pale faces in the first great attack we have made on them for now many moons?"