The Devil-Tree of El Dorado: A Novel

by Frank Aubrey

  CHAPTER XXVI.

  CORYON.

  At sunrise on the morning of the day that was to have witnessedLeonard's public betrothal he was sitting staring gloomily, through thegrating of his cell, at the never-resting branches without, when thesounds of drums, on which a long tattoo was being beaten, broke on hisear. The sounds came from both near and far, some half-muffled in thegalleries and caverns of the cliff, others echoing from one side to theother of the rocky enclosure till they died away in the far distance.

  Since the previous morning nothing further had occurred; the woman wasstill in the cell on one side of him; no new victim had been brought tooccupy the other.

  The roll of the drums caused Leonard to start up and look about him.He was haggard and worn from want of sleep, but his step was firm, andhis face was stamped with a look of quiet resolution that showed he hadtaken to heart his fellow-prisoner's advice. When he rose up she spoke.

  "It is as I thought," she said; "they are to have one of theirgatherings to-day, when the tree will be given its meal in sight of allwho are summoned to be present. That is why one of us was not given toit last night, no doubt." And she gave a short, hard laugh, that wasfar from pleasant to hear.

  "No doubt it is your turn," she went on in a softer tone. "You mustsummon all your fortitude. Be brave! If one must die, one needs notshow such craven fear as that half-mad wretch exhibited the othernight."

  "You speak well, my good friend, and what you have said to me hasbraced me up. Would that, before we part, I could say or do somethingto serve or comfort you."

  "That cannot be; only remember what I told you--if you want a tauntto hurl at the tyrant's head, a taunt that will stab him through hisself-admiration, you know now what to say. Soon they will be here foryou. Ah!" here she broke off, as though a new thought had come to her."On these days they are all assembled outside--all the men. Only thewomen and children are left within their dens. Oh, if I could but getfree for half an hour! I know some of their secrets, and could play atrick upon them that would go far to square accounts between us. But,of course," she added mournfully, "it is foolishness to think of it."

  Overhead could now be heard the scuffling of many footsteps, and, anon,more drum-beating, with much blowing of horns and trumpets. Next, therewere shouting and cheering, followed by what appeared to be a speechfrom some one; but the words were not intelligible to the two anxiouslisteners.

  At one time the noise had brought a faint hope into Leonard's mind thatit might portend the approach of friends; but the words Fernina hadjust spoken quickly dissipated any such idea.

  Presently, steps were heard in the gallery outside, a key was insertedin the lock, and two of Coryon's black-coated soldiers entered. Theywere both armed with drawn swords; and one of them, addressing Leonardin gruff accents, said,

  "You are to come with us." Then, turning to his comrade, he asked,"Have you the cord?"

  "No," was the reply, "I thought you had it."

  "And I thought you were bringing it. Go, get it."

  The man went out.

  Then he who had remained, raising a warning hand to Leonard, addressedhim in low, guarded tones.

  "The lord Monella," he said, "is hastening to thine aid with many armedfollowers; but he has been detained in the underground pass. Whether hewill arrive in time, I know not; if not and thou be harmed, thou wiltbe avenged."

  "Who art thou, then?" asked Leonard.

  "A friend of the lord Monella's."

  "And my other friend--what of him?"

  "He was a prisoner, but escaped, and has gone--I know not whither."

  "Heaven be praised for that! Ah, I can guess where he has gone!" Justthen a sudden thought came into Leonard's head.

  "See, friend," he said earnestly, "canst thou not turn the key in thelock of the next cell and give the poor creature there one littlechance for liberty?"

  "I do not know, but I will see. If the key fits, I might."

  "Quick, then, ere thy fellow returns."

  The man hastily took out the key and tried it in the lock of thewoman's cell; it fitted, and he unlocked the door; then withdrawing thekey, he replaced it in the door of Leonard's cell.

  "Roll that log to the door to keep it close till you think it safe toventure out," Leonard advised the woman. She had but just done so whenthey heard the steps of the other soldier in the gallery.

  "What is thy name, friend?" Leonard asked him in a whisper.

  "Melta," the man answered; and then, when the other made his appearancewith some cord, he began to rate him for having been so long.

  Leonard was bound in a loose fashion, just sufficient to prevent hisfree use of either arms or legs, and led away. On his way out he said akindly word to Fernina.

  "The Great Spirit help you," was the reply. "I have no fear for younow; you will die with courage, if it be so fated. A heart that canfeel and think for a stranger in the midst of such distress as is yoursto-day is the heart of a brave man. But we may yet meet again."

  Leonard shook his head sadly.

  "I have no false hopes," he answered. "I do not expect that help cannow come in time. I may be avenged; that is the most I can hope for."

  "Yes!" said the woman in a meaning tone; "you will be avenged; and soshall I."

  The man who had been sent for the cord laughed jeeringly at the womanwhen she said this, but took no further notice of her; and the threeproceeded along the gallery till they came to some steps at the end.Ascending these they entered a broader gallery or corridor above;then, turning back, they passed out through the gateway and alongthe covered-way, finally emerging on the main terrace of the greatamphitheatre.

  Round the sides of the enclosure a large number of people weregathered. Among these were black-coated soldiers to the number of,perhaps, two hundred; the others, of whom there were from four to fivehundred, also carried arms of some sort, spears or swords. When Leonardcast his eyes around and noted them, the heart within him sank, for hesaw how difficult would be a rescue, even with the armed followers thatthe man Melta had said accompanied Monella.

  In the centre of the great terrace, upon a high chair carved andemblazoned, and with a great banner waving above his head, sat thedreaded Coryon. Round him were grouped, first his nine priests inblack robes, and Dakla and others of his chief officers; then, ranksof soldiers and, among them, some of the king's ministers and chieffunctionaries, all bound as Leonard was. But the king himself was notthere; nor was Ulama; and Leonard, when he had assured himself of this,turned his gaze on Coryon.

  It was well that he had been warned that he would need all his courageto enable him to look upon this man unflinchingly. Even thus preparedhe found it barely possible to keep down the emotion the sight excitedin his breast.

  He saw before him a man of great height and powerful frame, clad ina black robe with a star on the breast worked in virgin gold and setwith jewels. His grey hair and beard were unkempt and long, his skinof a dark swarthy hue, his forehead, albeit broad, was receding, andfurrowed, and wrinkled into a sinister scowl, and his lips were partedor drawn up in a set snarl that disclosed teeth more like a wildbeast's fangs than a human being's teeth. When Leonard first caughtsight of him, he was standing with one arm extended as though he hadjust finished some harangue; but, when Leonard was brought up, Coryonsat down. Then he slowly turned his glance upon the prisoner.

  "HE WAS STANDING WITH ONE ARM EXTENDED." [_Page 286._]

  And beneath that glance a feeling of cold horror stole into Leonard'sbreast; he felt as though an icy hand were about to seize his veryheart and wring it in a grip of iron. It was the nameless dread thata man may feel in the presence of something that his instincts tellhim is a deadly enemy, yet of which he cannot discover the form, orsize, or nature; whether earthly or supernatural. Here, certainly, theoutward shape was that of a man, but in the eyes there was somethingsuggesting that their owner was not a man at all, but a livingincarnation of depravity--a demon with eyes, for the moment quiescentas with the cold g
litter and deadly malignancy of the serpent, butinstinct with suppressed power, and ready to flame up with terrible,relentless, overwhelming energy. Mingled with the snake-like glitterof malevolence there were lurid flashes that darted forth perpetually,causing the beholder to recoil as though from actual darts. At sightof him one thought of some nameless monster coiled up and meditatinga spring upon its prey; a monster that was the implacable foe of thewhole human race, that embodied, in human form, all the power, theattributes, the cruelty, of an arch-demon from another world.

  From such a being the soul shrinks with a horror that is less earthlyfear than the natural loathing of evil things that is implanted withinthe breasts of all endowed with pure and holy instincts; and this wasLeonard's feeling while he stood, half sick and faint, enduring andreturning Coryon's fixed look.

  But just when it came upon him that he must either shift his glanceor drop helpless to the ground, the thought of all the child-like,innocent Ulama must have suffered through the shameless treachery ofthis fiend in human shape came into his mind; and, with the thought,forth from his heart rushed out the blood, bursting through the icygrip that had all but closed upon it, and coursing through his veins ina leaping torrent, like one of those great waves of fiery indignationthat sometimes, for a while, gives to one man the strength of ten. Witha sudden impulse that forgot everything but his righteous anger, heput forth such an effort that he broke the cords that bound him; then,rushing impetuously upon Coryon, before any one could interfere, heactually had him by the throat in a clutch that, spite of the other'sown gigantic strength, would have ended his vile life if, for a fewseconds longer, his assailant had been left alone. But a dozen handslaid hold of him and pulled him back, bruised and panting, to thecustody of the men he had escaped from. But, though baffled and injuredin the struggle, there was in his eyes a light almost of triumph whenhe turned round and faced his enemy once more.

  "Aha!" he shouted. "Coward! Hateful murderer of women and children andunarmed men! Thou darest not come down and meet me man to man! Thoughthou art near twice my size, I had choked the foul life out of thee,had we been left alone!"

  At first, Coryon made no answer, except to glare at his late assailantwith his evil eyes; but they fell away under the other's dauntlesslook, and he put his hands to his throat as if in pain.

  "This will cost thee dear," at last he said, in a harsh, croakingvoice; but Leonard replied with a cold smile,

  "Thou canst but kill me; and I would not beg mercy from such as thou.Why dost turn thine eyes away, coward Coryon? Dost feel at last that sofoul a thing may not endure the glance of an honest man?"

  Coryon sprang up and stood for a moment with his hands extendedtowards his prisoner, his fingers closing and opening convulsively asthough he half intended to accept the challenge in the other's wordsand looks. Then he managed to control his passion and sat down again,first addressing a few words in a low tone to a priest who stood besidehim.