The Courage of Captain Plum

by James Oliver Curwood

  CHAPTER VIII

  THE SIX CASTLE CHAMBERS

  In an instant Nathaniel was upon his knees beside the prostrate form ofthe old councilor.

  Obadiah's eyes were open, but unseeing; his face was blanched to thewhiteness of paper; an almost imperceptible movement of his chest showedthat he still breathed. Nathaniel lifted one of the limp hands and itsclammy chill struck horror to his heart. Tenderly he lifted the old manand carried him to the cot at the end of the room. He loosened hisclothes, tore off the low collar about his throat, and felt with hishand to measure the faint beating of life in the councilor's breast. Fora few moments it seemed to grow fainter and fainter, and a choking lumprose in his throat as he watched the pallor of death fixing itself onthe councilor's shriveled face. What strange chord of sympathy was itthat bound him to this old man? Was it the same mysterious influencethat had attracted Marion to him? He dropped upon his knees and calledthe girl's name softly but it awakened no response in the sightlesseyes, no tremor in the parted, unquivering lips. Very slowly as theminutes passed there came a reaction. The pulsations of the weakenedheart became a little stronger, he could catch faintly the sound ofbreath coming from between the old man's lips.

  With a gasp of relief Nathaniel rose to his feet. Through the door hesaw the red glare growing in the northern sky and heard the great bellat St. James ring a wilder and more excited alarm. For a few moments hestood in silent, listening inaction, his nerves tingling with a strangesensation of impending peril. Obadiah's madness, the mysterioustrembling of the earth beneath his feet, the volcano of fire, theclanging of the bell and the councilor's insane rejoicing had all comeso suddenly that he was dazed. What great calamity, what fearfulvengeance, was about to come upon the Mormon kingdom? Was it possiblethat the fishermen and settlers of the mainland had risen, as Obadiahhad said, and were already at hand to destroy Strang and his people? Thethought spurred him to the door. The blood rushed like fire through hisveins. What would it mean to Marion--to Neil?

  In his excitement he started down the path that led to the lilac hiddenhome beyond the forest. Then he thought again of Obadiah and his lastchoking utterance of Marion's name. He had tried to speak of her, evenwith that death-like rattling of the breath in his throat; and thememory of the old councilor's frantic struggle for words broughtNathaniel quickly back to the cabin. He bent over Obadiah's shriveledform and spoke the girl's name again and again in his ears. There cameno response, no quiver of life to show that the old man was consciousof his presence. As he worked over him, bathing his face and chest incool water, the feeling became strong in him that he was fighting deathin this gloomy room for Marion's sake. It was like the whispering of aninvisible spirit in his ears--something more than presentiment,something that made his own heart grow faint when death seemed winningin the struggle. His watchfulness was acute, intense, desperate. When,after a time, he straightened himself again, rewarded by Obadiah's moreregular breathing, the sweat stood in beads upon his face. He knew thathe had triumphed. Obadiah would live, and Marion--

  He placed his mouth close to the councilor's ear.

  "Tell me about Marion," he said again. "Marion--Marion--Marion--"

  He waited, stilling his own breath to catch the sound of a whisper. Nonecame. As he bent over him he saw through the open door that the redglare of fire had faded to a burnt out glow in the sky. In the deepsilence the sullen beating of the bell seemed nearer, and he could hearthe excited barking of dogs in St. James. Slowly the hope that Obadiahmight speak to him died away and he returned to the door. It stilllacked an hour of midnight, when Marion, had promised to come to him. Hewas wildly impatient and to his impatience was added the fear that hadfilled him as he hovered over Obadiah, a nameless, intangiblefear--something which he could not have analyzed and which clutched athis heart and urged him to follow the path that led to Marion's. For atime he resisted the impulse. What if she should come by another pathwhile he was gone? He waited nervously in the edge of the forest,watching, and listening for footsteps. Each minute seemed like an hourmarked into seconds by the solemn steady tolling of the bell, and aftera little he found himself unconsciously measuring time by counting thestrokes. Then he went out into the path. He followed it, step by step,until he could no longer see the light in the cabin; his pulse beat alittle faster; he stared ahead into the deep gloom between the walls offorest--and quickened his pace. If Marion was coming to him he wouldmeet her. If she was not coming--

  In his old fearless way he promptly made up his mind. He would go boldlyto the cabin and tell her that Neil was waiting. He felt sure that thealarm sounding from St. James had drawn away the guards and that therewould be nothing to interfere with his plan. If she had already left thecabin he would return quickly to Obadiah's. In his eagerness he began torun. Once a sound stopped him--the distant beating of galloping hoofs.He heard the shout of a man, a reply farther away, the quick, excitedyelping of a dog. His blood danced as he thought of the gathering of theMormon fighters, the men and boys racing down the black trails from theinland forests, the excitement in St. James. As he ran on again hethought of Arbor Croche mustering the panting, vengeful defenders; ofStrang, his great voice booming encouragement and promise, above thebrazen thunder of the bell; he saw in fancy the frightened huddlinggroups of women and children and beyond and above all the coming of the"vengeance of God"--a hundred beats, a thousand men--and there went outfrom his soul if not from his lips a great cry of joy. At the edge ofthe forest he stopped for a moment. Over beyond the clearing a lightburned dimly through the lilacs. The sweet odor of the flowers came tohim gently, persuasively, and nerved him into the open. He passed acrossthe open space swiftly and plunged into a tangle of bushes close to thelighted window.

  He heard a man's voice within, and then a woman's. Was it Marion?Cautiously Nathaniel crept close to the log wall of the cabin. Hereached out, and hesitated. Should he look--as he had done at the king'swindow? The man's voice came to him again, harsh and angry, and thistime it was not a woman's words that he heard but a woman's sobbing cry.He parted the bushes and a glare of light fell on his face. The lamp wason a table and beside the table there sat a woman, her white head turnedfrom him, her face buried in her hands. She was an old woman and he knewthat it was Marion's mother. He could not see the man.

  Where was Marion? He wormed himself back out of the bushes and walkedquickly around the house. There was no other light, no other sign oflife except in that one room. With sudden resolution he stepped to thedoor and knocked loudly.

  For a full half minute there was silence, and he knocked again. He heardthe approach of a shuffling step, the thump, thump, thump of a cane, andthe door swung back. It was the man who opened it, a tall giant of anold man, doubled as if with rheumatism, and close behind him was thefrightened face of the woman. An involuntary shudder passed throughNathaniel as he looked at them. They were old--so old that the man'sshrivelled hands were like those of a skeleton; his giant frame seemedabout to totter into ruin, his eyes were sunken until his face gave thehorror of a death mask. Was it possible that these people were thefather and mother of Marion--and of Neil? As he stepped to the thresholdthey timidly drew back from him. In a single glance Nathaniel swept theroom and what he saw thrilled him, for everywhere were signs of Marion;in the pictures on the walls, the snowy curtains, the cushions in thewindow-seat--and the huge vase of lilacs on the mantle.

  "I am a messenger of the king," he said, advancing and closing the doorbehind him. "I want to speak with Marion."

  "Strang--the king!" cried the old man, clutching the knob of his canewith both hands. "She has gone!"

  "Gone!" exclaimed Nathaniel. For an instant his heart bounded withdelight. Marion was on her way to the tryst! He sprang back to thedoor. "When? When did she go?"

  The woman had come forward, her hands trembling, her lips quivering.Something in the terror of her face sent the hot blood from Nathaniel'scheeks.

  "They sent for her an hour ago," she said. "The king sent Obadiah Pricefor he
r! O, my God!" she shrieked suddenly, clutching at her breast,"Tell me--what are they doing with Marion--"

  "Shut up!" snarled the old man. "That is Strang's business. She has goneto Strang." With an effort he straightened himself until his toweringform rose half a head above Nathaniel. "She has gone to the king," herepeated. "Tell Strang that she will wive him to-night, as she haspromised!"

  In spite of his effort to control himself a terrible cry burst fromNathaniel's lips. He flung open the door and stood for an instant withhis white face turned back.

  "She went to the castle--an hour ago?" he cried.

  "Yes, to the castle--with Obadiah Price--" The last words followed himas he sped out into the night. As swiftly as a wolf he raced across theclearing to the trail that led down to St. James. Something seemed tohave burst in his brain; something that was not blood, but fire, seemedto burn in his veins--a mad desire to reach Strang, to grip him by thethroat, to mete out to him the vengeance of a fiend instead of that of aman. He was too late to save Marion! His brain reeled with the thought.Too late--too late--too late. He panted the words. They came with everygasp for breath. Too late! Too late! His heart pumped like an engine ashe strained to keep up his speed. He passed a man and a boy hurryingwith their rifles to St. James and made no answer to their shout; agalloping horse forged ahead of him and he tried to keep up with it; andthen, at the top of the long hill that sloped down to the stronghold ofthe Mormon kingdom something seemed to sweep his legs from under him,and he fell panting on the ground. For a few moments he lay therelooking down upon the city. The great bell at the temple was now silent.He saw huge fires burning for a mile along the coast, hundreds of lightswere twinkling in the harbor, there came up to him softly, subdued bydistance, the sound of commotion and excitement far below.

  His eyes rested on the beacon above the prophet's home, burning like aball of fire over the black canopy of tree-tops. Marion was there! Herose to his feet again and went on, reason and judgment returning tohim--telling him that he was about to play against odds; that his workwas to be one of strength and generalship and not of madness. As hepicked his way more slowly and cautiously down the slope a new hopeflashed upon him. Was it possible that the discovery of the approach ofthe mainlanders had served to save Marion? In the excitement thatfollowed the calling of the Mormons to arms and the preparations for thedefense would Strang, the master of the kingdom, the bulwark of hispeople, waste priceless time in carrying out the purpose for which hehad sent for Marion? Hardly did hope burn anew in his breast when therecame another thought to quench it. Why had the king sent for Marion onthis particular night and at this late hour? Why, unless at the approachof his enemies he had feared that he might lose his beautiful victim,and in his overmastering passion had called her to him even as hispeople assembled in defense of his kingdom.

  There was desperate coolness in Nathaniel's approach now. Whatever hadhappened he would do what Neil had threatened to do--kill Strang. Andwhatever had happened he would take Marion away with him if it was onlyher dead body that he carried in his arms. To do these things he neededstrength. He advanced more slowly and drew deeper and deeper drafts ofair into his exhausted lungs. At the edge of the grove surrounding thecastle he paused to listen. For the first time it occurred to Nathanielthat the prophet might have assembled some of his fighters to thedefense of his harem, which he knew would be one of the first places tofeel the vengeance of the outraged men of the mainland. But he heard novoices ahead of him. There were no fires to betray the approach of theenemy. Not even the barking of a dog gave warning of his stealthyadvance. Soon he could make out a light in the king's house. A few stepsmore and he saw that the door was open, as it had been on his firstvisit to the castle. He dodged swiftly from bush to bush, darted underthe window through which he had seen Marion, leaped lightly up the broadsteps and sprang into the great room, his pistol cocked in his hand.

  The room was empty. He listened, but not a sound came to his ears exceptthe rustling of a curtain in the breeze. The huge lamp over the tablewas burning dimly. The five doors leading from the room were tightlyclosed. Nathaniel held his breath, tried to still the tumultuouspounding of his heart as he waited for a sound of life--a step beyondthose doors, a woman's voice, a child's cry. But none came. Thestillness of desertion hovered about him. He went to one of the fivedoors. It was not locked. He opened it silently, with the caution of athief, and there loomed before him a chaos of gloom.

  "Hello!" he called gently. "Hello--Hello--"

  There was no answer. He struck a match and advanced step by step,holding the yellow bit of flame above his head. It disclosed the narrowwalls of a hall and an open door leading into another room. The matchsputtered and went out and he lighted another. On a little table justoutside the door was a half burned candle and he replaced his match withthis. Then he went in.

  At a glance he knew that he had entered a woman's room, redolent withthe perfume of flowers. On one side was a bed and close beside it acradle with a child's toys scattered about it. The tumbled coverletsshowed that both had been recently used. About the room were thrownarticles of wearing apparel; a trunk had been dragged from a closet andwas half packed; everywhere was the disorder of hurried flight. For afew moments the depth of his despair held Nathaniel motionless. Thecastle was deserted--Marion was gone! He ran back into the great room,no longer trying to still the sound of his footsteps, and opened asecond door. The same silence greeted him, the same disorder, the sameevidence that the wives and children of the Mormon king had fled. Hewent into a third room--and then a fourth.

  For an instant he paused at the threshold of this fourth chamber. Alight was burning in the room at the end of the hall. The door wasclosed with the exception of an inch or two.

  "Marion!" he called softly, and listened intently.

  He went on when there was no reply, and pushed open the door.

  A candle was burning on a stand in front of a mirror. The room was asempty as the others. But there was no disorder here. The bed was unused,the garments in the open closet had not been disarranged. On the floorbeside the bed was a pair of shoes and as Nathaniel saw them his heartseemed to leap to his throat and stifled the cry that was on his lips.He took one of them in his hand, his whole being throbbing withexcitement. It was Marion's shoe--encrusted with mud and torn as he hadseen it in the forest. With her name falling from his lips in a pleadingcry he now searched the room and on the stand in front of the mirror hefound a lilac colored ribbon, soiled and crumpled. It was Marion'sribbon--the one he had seen last in her hair, and he crushed it to hislips as he ran back into the great room, calling out her name again andagain in the torture of helplessness that now possessed him.

  Mechanically, rather than with reason, he went to the fifth and lastdoor. His candle had become extinguished in his haste and after he hadopened the door he stopped at the threshold of the black hall to lightit again. There was a moment's pause as he searched his pockets for amatch, a silence in which he listened as he searched, and suddenly as hewas about to strike the sulphur tipped splint there came to his ears asound that held him chained to the spot. It was the sobbing of a woman;or was it a child? In a moment he knew that it was a woman; and then thesobbing ceased.

  There was nothing but darkness ahead of him; no ray of light shone underthe door; the chamber itself was in utter gloom. As quietly as possiblehe relighted his candle. A glance assured him that this hall wasdifferent from the others; it was deeper, and there were two doors atthe end of it instead of one. Through which of these doors had come thesound of sobbing he had heard?

  He approached and listened. Each moment added to his excitement, hisfears, his hopes, but at last he opened the door on the left. The roomwas empty; there was the same disorder as before; the same signs ofhurried flight. It was the room on the right! His heart almost stoppedits beating as he placed his hand on the latch, lifted it, and pushedthe door in. Kneeling beside the bed he saw a woman. She had turnedtoward the light and in the dim illumination of the room Nat
hanielrecognized the beautiful face he had seen at the king's castle thepreceding day--the face of the woman who had sent him to find theprophet, who had placed her gentle hand on Marion's head as he hadlooked through the window. There was no fear in her eyes as she sawNathaniel. Something more terrible than that shone in their gloriousdepths as she rose to her feet and stood before him, her face lined withgrief, her mouth twitching in agony. She stood with clenched hands, herbosom rising and falling in the passion of the storm within her; and shesobbed even as Nathaniel paused there, unmanned in this sudden presenceof a distress greater than his own; sobbed in a choking, tearless way,waiting for him to speak.

  "Forgive me," he spoke gently. "I have come--for--Marion." He felt thathe had no reason to lie to this woman. His face betrayed his own anguishas he came nearer to her. "I want Marion," he repeated. "My God, won'tyou tell me--?"

  She struggled to calm herself as he spoke the girl's name.

  "Marion is not here," she said. She crushed his hands against her bosomand a softer look came into her eyes; her voice was low and sweet, as ithad been the morning he asked for Strang. As she saw the despairdeepening in the man's face a great pity swept over her and shestretched out her arms to him with an aching cry, "Marion isgone--gone--gone," she moaned, "and you must go, too! O, I know you loveher--she told me that you loved her, as I love Strang, my king! We haveboth lost--lost--and you must go--as--I--shall--go!" She turned awayfrom him with a cry so heart-breaking in its pain that Nathaniel felthimself trembling to the soul. In another instant she had faced himagain, fighting back a strange calm into her face.

  "I love Marion," she breathed softly. "I would help you--I would helpher--if I could." For a moment her pale beautiful face was filled with alight that might have shone from the face of an angel, "Don't youunderstand?" she continued, scarcely above a whisper. "I have beenStrang's one great love--his life--until Marion came into his heart. Ihave lost--you have lost--but mine is the more bitter because Marionloves you, and Strang--"

  With a cry Nathaniel sprang to her side. The candle fell from his hand,sputtered on the floor, and left them in darkness.

  "Marion loves me! You say that Marion loves me?"

  The woman's voice came to him in a whisper filled with the sweetness ofsympathy.

  "She said so to-night--in this room. She told me that she loved you asshe never thought that she could love a man in this world. O, my God, isthat not a balm for your heart, if it is broken? And Strang--myStrang--has forgotten his love for me!"

  Nathaniel reached out his arms. They found the woman and for a time heheld her hands in his, while a great silence fell upon them. He couldhear the sobbing of her breath and as her fingers tightened about hisown his heart seemed bursting with its hatred of this man who calledhimself a prophet of God; a hatred that burned furiously even as hisbeing throbbed with the wild joy of the words he had just heard.

  "Where is Marion?" he pleaded.

  "I don't know," replied the woman. "They took her away alone. Theothers have gone to the temple."

  "Do you think she is at the temple?" he inquired insistently.

  "No. One of the others came back a little while ago. She said thatMarion was not there."

  "Where is Strang?"

  This time he felt the woman tremble.

  "Strang--"

  She drew her hands away from him. There was a strange quiver in hervoice.

  "Yes--where is Strang?"

  There came no reply.

  "Tell me--where is he?"

  "I don't know."

  "Is he at the temple?"

  "I don't know."

  He could hear her stifled breath; he could almost feel her trembling, anarm's reach out there in the darkness. What a woman was this whoseheart the Mormon king had broken for a new love!

  "Listen," he said gently. "I am going to find Marion. I am going to takeher away. To-morrow you shall have Strang again--if he is alive!"

  There was no answer and he moved slowly back to the door. He closed itafter him as he entered the hall. Once in the big room he paused for amoment under the hanging lamp to examine his pistol and then wentoutside. The grove in which the castle stood was absolutely deserted. Sofar as he could see not even a guard watched over the property of theking. Nathaniel had become too accustomed to the surprises of BeaverIsland to wonder at this. He could see by the lights flaring along theharbor that the castle was in an isolated position and easy of attack.From what Strang's wife had told him and the evidences of panic in thechambers of the harem he believed that the Mormon king had abandoned thecastle to its fate and that the approaching conflict would center aboutthe temple.

  Was Marion at the temple? If so he realized that she was beyond hisreach. But the woman had said that she was not there. Where could shehave gone? Why had not Strang taken her with his wives? In a flashNathaniel thought of Arbor Croche and Obadiah--the two men who alwaysknew what the king was doing. If he could find the sheriff alone--if hecould only nurse Obadiah back into sane life again! He thrust his pistolinto its holster. There was but one thing for him to do and that was toreturn to the old councilor. It would be madness for him to go down toSt. James. He had lost--Strang had won. But his love for Marion wasundying. If he found her Strang's wife it would make no difference tohim. It would all be evened up when he killed the king. For Marion lovedhim--loved him--

  He turned his face toward Obadiah's, his heart singing the glad wordswhich the woman had spoken to him back there in the sixth chamber.

  And as he was about to take the first step in that long race back to themad councilor's he heard behind him the approach of quick feet. Hecrouched behind a clump of bushes and waited. A shadowy form washurrying through the grove. It passed close to him, mounted the castlesteps, and in the doorway turned and looked back for an instant in thedirection of St. James.

  Nathaniel's lips quivered; the pounding of his heart half choked him; ashriek of mad, terrible joy was ready to leap from his lips.

  There in the dim glow of the great lamp stood Strang, the Mormon king.