Reality caught her heart in a crushing vise. The pain was almost too great for her to bear. She lifted misty, green eyes skyward and prayed softly, “I beg you to hear and answer this prayer. Have mercy on me this day. Please let him kil me and free prayer. Have mercy on me this day. Please let him kil me and free me from this life of torment. Please don’t alow me to pass another day here in this savage land as his captive. Take my life and spirit out of his reach forever. Please, God, let me flee him in death. Free me from his hold and curse forever. I beg you to hear and grant me this prayer. Have I not suffered enough for my sins?”
She lowered her head dejectedly to the post. Her eyes fel on Gray Eagle as he was binding her ankles to the post. Her gaze captured his and for once, he was the one who could not look away.
“This day, Wanmdi Hota, you wil regret above al others…”
A cold shiver ran over his body as she spoke the very words he had used when he discovered her escape. An omen—he feared to ask of what. “… if you do this evil thing. God forbid that I should live, but if I do, I wil hate you forever and never forgive you. Never! I wil die cursing the day I met you and your evil. You chose to show no mercy or understanding. You chose to have a heart of stone. You are blinded by hate and vengeance. You chose to shut me out of your life and to reject me in every way. Now, you must choose to end it al with my death. I could have loved you with al my heart. I could have accepted you as a man, and perhaps made you forget I am white and an enemy.”
Tears clouded her vision and emotions threatened to constrict her throat, but she continued with the words which had to be said. For once, she had to face her feelings. She could no longer deny them. Soon, it would be too late. Everything seemed to fal into place—al, that is, except Gray Eagle’s role in her life and fate. How could she explain or understand his type of cruelty and hate?
“Your heart and mind is too ful of evil to see what you give up. If only there was some reason for al of this, I could accept my up. If only there was some reason for al of this, I could accept my fate and die in peace. I can find none. Is there ever a reason for hate and murder? That first day I saw you, Horace warned me I would live to regret my actions. He was right, but not for the reasons he thought. That first day I saw you, I lo…”
She ceased speaking to herself as she became aware of many voices and laughter behind her. She turned her head to see what was going on. Many of the Indians from his tribe were standing only a few yards back. She mistakenly thought they were talking, laughing and waiting for her punishment and death. They were there at the request and order of their leader to witness her punishment only.
Despair crossed her ashen face and her eyes riveted quickly back to him in disbelief and betrayal. She fought hard to control a fresh flood of tears which threatened to spil. She vowed, I wil not cry! I wil not cower before him or his people. She prayed once more, “God grant me the power to stay silent… no matter what he does to me. Do not let me cry out or plead for mercy. Take my voice away if I cry. Help me end this with honor. Please, do not let me cry…”
With a great and difficult effort, she swalowed several times to force the lump from her throat and chest. She clamped her teeth tightly together to prevent any pleas from escaping and to stil her trembling lips and chin. She told herself over and over, do not cry…
do not plead… ever…
White Arrow stepped before her line of vision. Their eyes met and locked and they spoke without words. She braved a last, sad smile to the only friend she had found in the Indian camp. For a brief moment, her grassy eyes had their old sparkle of life and innocence. Just as quickly as it had appeared, it vanished, to be innocence. Just as quickly as it had appeared, it vanished, to be replaced by her heart’s pain.
His somber, ebony eyes scanned her features as if he memorized them for a last time. Perhaps he did. … He unwilingly handed the whip to Gray Eagle and looked at her once more. In his tongue, he whispered, “May the Great Spirit and your God protect you today, Pi-Zi Ista.” He smiled into her eyes and gently stroked her ivory cheek with his hand, then walked away slowly. Gray Eagle flinched at her parting words to White Arrow,
“Would that I had met and loved you first, my koda .. .” She watched him depart, knowing he could not and would not watch this deed.
White Arrow was mumbling to himself as he walked away. His mind was in a maelstrom. Wanmdi Hota is a fool! He does not see it is not only the girl he wil punish this day, but himself too for loving and wanting her. Would that she were mine…
Alisha closed her eyes, refusing to look at the people again. She did not want to see their stares and looks.
She heard the rich, deep voice of Gray Eagle speaking to his people. He was teling them the charges against her and what the punishment for her deeds would be. He announced five strokes of the apa. He came to her and with a swift jerk tore her garment down the back to her waist. He took his place behind and slightly to the side of her. He shook the coiled whip loose in his grasp. She stiffened in dread and fearful anticipation.
Gray Eagle flexed his fingers on the whip handle and tightened his grip as he stared at the snowy, smooth back before him. He hesitated a moment as she turned her head in his direction. She glared into his flinty eyes, letting him feel her anguish. That look would haunt him for a long time to come. Many nights, he would would haunt him for a long time to come. Many nights, he would awaken seeing that last painful expression of betrayal, pain and shattered love.
She turned her face back to the post and rested her forehead on it. She clasped her fingers tightly together and closed her eyes. She clamped her lips shut. She tried to mentaly prepare herself for what was shortly to come. She tensed al the muscles in her body and inhaled deeply several times. She prayed once more for the courage and strength to remain silent and die in dignity and honor. She determined she would not beg or scream, no matter what he did or how much it hurt.
The whip uncoiled and struck like a viper, biting into her soft, tender flesh and jarring her entire body. The searing pain swept through her body so forcefuly she nearly fainted. It was far worse than she had ever imagined. No one could prepare himself for something like this. How many such lashes could one endure before death or insanity?
Another lash was delivered with such stunning force she lunged into the wooden post. She instantly saw bright stars before her eyes and her ears hummed. Her jaw was aching from her tight restraint on it. She stiffened her sagging body and gripped her fingers more tightly together, unaware the whip would bite deeper and harsher into taut flesh. Her respiration was coming in short, labored rasps.
Another snap of the whip and more excruciating agony. How could she possibly endure this much longer and keep silent? How could she not beg and plead for mercy? Would he continue this abuse until she yielded and screamed for the mercy he might not even grant? Perhaps he intended to beat her until she was dead or horribly disfigured. She prayed not. She preferred death!
horribly disfigured. She prayed not. She preferred death!
Do not yield this time, Lese! she begged herself. Either he must stop because he wishes to or he must kil you. He wil be solely responsible for his choice. Keep silent!
Her back throbbed and flamed like a sheet of fire. She was living a nightmare to which there was no awakening. Waves of nausea flooded her and she fought for control. Blood pounded in her ears. Stil, the brutal flaying continued…
The muscles in her back twitched with pain. It was as if someone was cutting them out with a hot knife one by one. Another lash whistled through the air and landed with a jolt. She teetered between reality and unconsciousness. She had not even felt the minor pain in her lip where she had unknowingly bitten it. Blood trickled down her chin. She felt the warm, sticky blood. She tasted metalic blood. She saw fiery, red blood. Her vision began to blur red, then black, then red and black over and over. She clamped her teeth fiercely onto her hand to suppress a scream. Silence! Silence! her mind commanded again and again to her mouth. Do no
t yield to him again!
She sagged against the post, losing count of the lashes. Blood flowed down into her eyes and coursed down her ashen face. On the last lash, she had uncontrolably arched backwards with the impact of the whip, then forward, slamming her forehead into the post. A humming, ringing sound from far, far away filed her ears. She would never know it was partly the sound of people’s voices joined in praise of her bravery and endurance, for to endure such pain and suffering in silence and bravery was greatly honored. The agony was now unbearable, but no sound would come forth to help release the tension in her painracked body. It was as though she had wiled herself mute.
though she had wiled herself mute.
She thought perhaps she had gone mad. She knew pain did that sometimes when it was so great and brutal. Just let me die, she prayed softly.
One last crack of the whip and she knew her body had been ripped apart by its force. Pain and fire shot through her, Her mind reeled in fuzziness. No more, merciful God, no more…
Her body was floating in a pot of boiling oil. There was bloody darkness and gloom al around her. Charon had come to ferry her soul across the river to Hades. What if Cerberus wouldn’t let her pass? But of course he would, she was dead, wasn’t she?
Delusions whispered in her ears. Reality had fled and in its place were phantoms. Each came with words and visions of hideous torments. Then for one brief moment, she sensed total awareness of her surroundings. I am dying, she realized. At last, it’s over. She lasped into unconsciousness, void and black. Gray Eagle had inwardly flinched at each blow he delivered. He cursed himself for not taking his friend’s advice. He had tried to deliver the lashes lightly, but found the apa had a mind of its own and would not be cheated of its task. He gritted his teeth in remorse as he witnessed the soft ivory flesh torn and bleeding. He had watched the long, jagged gashes appear. Raw welts streaked across her slender back. He had announced five strokes and knew he could show no weakness by giving less.
He could feel the strike of the blow each time. Blood was flowing unchecked down her back and dripping into the dusty dirt. He could not understand how she had remained silent so long. He should have recaled how gruesome and painful a lashing was. His reasons for doing this to her seemed unimportant and unnecessary now, but it was too late for apologies.
now, but it was too late for apologies.
He mentaly punished himself for going through with this. I should have come up with a lesser punishment for her, he agonized. On the fourth lash, he has stiffened in anguish as she arched backwards in convulsive torment. He had almost dropped the whip and run to her side, but had caught himself. What would they think at his show of mercy for this white slave? He secretly wished their opinions and thoughts did not matter to him. Had it been possible, he would have exchanged places and taken the beating himself for her. He was torn between his love for her and his love and loyalty to his people. How could he explain his feelings to them when he did not even understand them himself? Why did the Great Spirit give his heart and love to an enemy when it was impossible for him to return her love or to have her openly?
On the last lash, she had finaly sagged and gone completely limp. He had prayed to the Great Spirit for her to lose consciousness immediately to avoid the agony and shame she would be forced to endure. Never once had she cried out in pain or pleaded for mercy. How she must hate me to have such courage, he thought bitterly.
He heard praise al around him. He had even heard cals for mercy and words of sympathy for her. Was this what it had taken to win her a measure of acceptance and honor by his people? He scoffed, the debt is paid now. She had won great respect and face in their eyes, but would never know until the day he chose to reveal the entire truth to her—if he ever had the chance. There were two people nearby who did not share in Alisha’s new-found acceptance and favor: Kathy and Chela. They elated in her suffering and shame and wished her death.
Chela boldly stepped forward and spoke tersely, “She is not Chela boldly stepped forward and spoke tersely, “She is not dead yet, Wanmdi Hota. A few more lashes of the apa wil finish your work. Even she deserves some mercy, doesn’t she?” she queried sarcasticaly.
Gray Eagle was in no frame of mind or mood for her envy or sarcasm. He roughly shoved her aside and passed by. He turned and warned in an ominous tone, “If you continue to taunt me and my judgments, Chela, or continue this disrespect of me and my honor, I wil beat you next and see if you can hold as silent as she!”
He sneered at her look of disbelief and rage, then went to Alisha. He glared angrily at the raw, bloody pulp of torn flesh. He cut her feet free, then went to her hands. Blood ran down her arms from injuries inflicted by the thongs. She had bitten into her hands to keep from screaming. Her wrists were burned and bleeding from straining against the rawhide thongs which bound her hands to the post.
He cut her hands free and leaned her head back against his shoulder. As he lifted her limp body gently, her head roled backwards onto his arm. He winced as he saw the bloody, swolen lip and the laceration on her forehead. Both injuries ran blood freely down her face and into her damp hair. There were trails where tears had flowed unhalted and now mingled with her blood. He hurriedly walked to his teepee to tend her injuries.
He found White Arrow waiting for him with herbs and medicines. Quietly, he asked, “Does she stil live, koda?’
Gray Eagle nodded, not trusting his voice to speak. He took the water and cloth from White Arrow. While he held her in an upright position, Gray Eagle washed the tears, dirt and blood from her face and arms. Then, he laid her down on the buffalo mat. He placed the cloth under her forehead to staunch the flow of blood, placed the cloth under her forehead to staunch the flow of blood, which continued to flow unchecked.
White Arrow passed him the medicines from the pezuta teepee. Together they tended her injuries in silence and apprehension. Gray Eagle took his knife and cut the remainder of her dress off. He covered the lower half of her body with a blanket. White Arrow knew he had never seen such beauty and loveliness, which was now so marred by the angry red weals.
Gray Eagle carefuly bathed her back, but stil Alisha made no moves or sounds. Fearfuly, he checked to see if she stil breathed. Agony raced through his mind and tore at his heart. Yes, she was stil living, but her respiration was very shalow and light. He recoiled in anguish as he touched the jagged welts. He had seen and given a great deal of punishments, but this was very different.
“I should not have done this thing, Wanhinkpe Ska,” he admitted. “You were right, my koda. It was too harsh and deadly for Cinstinna. I could have easily kiled or maimed her. I should have stayed her punishment until my anger cooled. It is too late, for the deed is done. The icapsinte was too much for one so helpless and weak. I heard her pray for silence and she did keep silent. She is far braver than I had ever imagined, or her hatred for me is so great that it gave her the strength for silence. I heard her pray for death, but I shal not let her go.” For the first time in his life, Gray Eagle felt guilt and remorse for a deed he had committed, even if it had seemed necessary and justified at the time.
“Maybe her God wil grant her prayer, Wanmdi Hota. She is very weak and has suffered much at our hands. Too much…
somehow, I feel this action wil take her from you forever.”
Gray Eagle flashed him a look of defiance and determination.
“I wil never let her go, not even to the bird of death! He must fly
“I wil never let her go, not even to the bird of death! He must fly away with empty wings this time!”
He took the salve made from the mountain herbs and rubbed it on her flayed back. He reflected back on the time she had done this same thing for him. Unlike himself, she did not resist his aid or attack the one giving it. He forced a smal amount of juice from the peyote between her lips and down her throat to lessen the pain. The juice was laced with horsemint to prevent shock from the loss of blood and the great pain. He placed some yelow dirt paste on the wound on he
r forehead and bandaged it tightly with a clean cloth. He then cleaned and treated the smaler injuries on her hands and wrists.
He gazed down into the pale face when he had finished al he could do for her and moaned in anguish. He sat beside her al night, occasionaly dabbing more salve to her forehead and back as it was pushed away by the flow of blood. Frequently, he forced water down her throat and mopped her fevered brow. She never responded to his gentle ministrations. Only her light, steady breathing told him she stil lived. Throughout the long night, he prayed and chanted the healing chant many times.
His deep timbered voice caled out: Wakantanka, Wanmdi Hota cals,
I seek your help with my prayer.
Return the life of the ska wincinyanna to me.
Give her spirit the strength to fight and return. Cal back her spirit leader and the bird of death. Cal not her feet to walk the Mahpiya Ocanku.
Protect her from harm and death.
Wakantanka, Wanmdi Hota cals,
Wakantanka, Wanmdi Hota cals,
I am a warrior and an Oglala.
I have known and faced death and danger many times. Cinstinna is weak and afraid.
Hear me and answer.
Once more make her spirit and body strong and wel. Do not let her die upon the scaffold in the night. Let her lie at my side instead in love and peace. Wakantanka, Wanmdi Hota cals, Give Cinstinna back to me for now and al days…
Gray Eagle knew he could not bear for Alisha to die and be out of his life and reach forever. It had taken him many winters to find the woman he could love and desire with al his being. Now he had nearly lost her with his own rejection. Why was he throwing away the very thing he wanted more than he had ever wanted anything?
Solemnly he vowed, I wil never be forced into hurting you again, Cinstinna. I wil give you no reasons to hate or resist me. I wil give you the time and patience to forgive and understand this thing I have done to you this day and other days. Perhaps in time, you wil learn to forget and trust me as it should have been from the beginning.
Savage Ecstasy Page 31