CHAPTER IX.
CONDEMNED TO THE TORTURE.
EAGER to witness the agony of the son of the powerful Naya of Mo, thecrowd of evil-faced men in silken robes who surrounded their brutal chiefwatched with lively anticipation the preparations that were in a fewmoments in active progress. The black slaves of the weirdly-dressedexecutioner first carried in a large blazing brazier, and rolling awaythe thick crimson carpet placed it upon the floor of polished marble infront of Samory's divan.
A slave boy had, in response to a sign from the great chief, lit his longpipe with its bejewelled mouthpiece, and as he half reclined on the couchhe smoked on calmly, regarding the execution of his orders withundisguised satisfaction.
The slaves, each wearing black loin-cloths with bunches of sable ostrichfeathers on their heads that waved like funeral-plumes as they walked,brought in grim-looking instruments of iron like blacksmiths' tools,strange spiked chains, fetters with sharp spikes on the inside, and manycuriously-contrived irons, each devised to cause some horrible torture,each red with rust, the rust of blood.
As my eyes fell upon them I involuntarily shuddered. Omar, my loyalfriend, was about to be murdered by these inhuman brutes, and I knew thatI was powerless to defend him from their fiendish wrath. Already he wasstanding in the grip of two black-plumed slaves, while no attempt hadbeen made to secure me. I stood near him, breathlessly anxious,wondering what the end would be.
Presently, when all was ready, a silence fell. Then, the deep voice ofSamory was heard, asking the final question:
"Speak, son of a dog," he cried, addressing my unhappy friend. "Wilt thoutell us where the secret Treasure-house of the Sanoms is situated?"
"No," Omar answered, flashing at his enemy a look of defiance. "I willnot betray my mother's secret to my father's murderer."
"Then use thy powers of persuasion," he said, lifting his hand towardsthe executioner. "Unseal his lips, and that quickly."
"Chief of our race, whose praises rise earliest and most frequent in thepresence of Allah, I am ready to obey thee," answered the hideousfunctionary. So saying, he took up a long iron instrument, fashioned likea pair of pincers and thrust it into the burning coals.
"Vain, O persecutor," cried Omar in a loud voice. "Vain are thy torturesagainst the will power of the son of the Great White Queen, whose veinsare filled with royal blood. Tremble at thy doom, a myriad of my race aredetermined against thee, and thy throne noddeth over thine head. Thefiend of darkness is let loose, and the powers of evil shall prevail."
"Hold thy peace," shouted the Moslem chieftain, enraged. "Thine own bloodshall make satisfaction for those of my race slain by thy warriors whenlast we marched upon thy kingdom."
"The curses of Takhar, of Tuirakh, and of Zomara, dreaded by all men, beupon thee," my companion cried, lifting his voice until it sounded loudand clear through the vaulted hall, and pointing to the slave-raidingking whose power no European influence could break. "May the vengeanceof my injured blood fasten upon thy life."
Those around Samory looked aghast as Omar uttered these ominouspredictions in the spirit of prophecy, for they perceived he spoke as hewas moved, and the whole council seemed dismayed. Silence and amazementfor a few moments prevailed. Omar alone appeared unconcerned at his fate.
Quickly, however, the executioner bent over his fire, and as the wretchedvictim of the potentate's hatred was dragged to a kind of square ironframe that lay upon the floor, thrown down, and fastened thereto by hiswrists and ankles, the fiendish-looking hireling took the long pincers,now red hot, and tore from Omar's shoulder a great piece of flesh.
A piercing scream of agony rent the air, mingled with the triumphantjeers of the excited councillors, but my friend's teeth were tightlyclenched and his face blanched to the lips. Again and again cries ofagony escaped him as the red-hot iron touched him, although he exertedevery nerve to maintain a dogged silence. From his back, shoulders, andchest the brutal negro ruthlessly tore pieces, holding them up to theassembled court in triumph, while the air was filled with the nauseatingodour of burning flesh.
The sight was so sickening that I turned faint, and with difficultyprevented myself from falling.
"Wilt thou now impart to us the knowledge that we seek?" asked Samory inringing tones that sounded above the whispered exultations of hiscourtiers.
"Never," gasped Omar in a weak voice, his eyes starting from his head."Life cannot be unchequered by the frowns of fate, but death must bringdumbness to my lips. Caution, when besmeared in blood, is no longervirtue, or wisdom, but wretched and degenerate cowardice; no, never lethim that was born to execute judgment secure his honours by cruelty andoppression. Hath not thy Koran told thee that fear and submission is asubject's tribute, yet mercy is the attribute of Allah, and the mostpleasing endowment of the vicegerents of earth."
"From the lips of a fool there sometimes falleth wisdom," Samory saidimpatiently. "Thou hast deemed it wise to thwart the will of one whosewish is law, therefore ere the bud of thy youth unfolds in the fulness ofmanhood, thou shalt be cut off as the husbandman destroyeth the deadlyserpent in the field."
"Is there no way to build up the seat of justice and mercy but inmurder?" cried Omar. At a signal from the slave-raider, however, thescarred-face brute again withdrew the pincers from the fiery brazier, andapplied them once more to the wretched prince's back.
He winced and turned with such strength that his limbs, fettered as theywere in bonds of blood-smeared iron, cracked, while the muscles and veinsstood out knotted like cords. The spotless marble of the floor wasstained by a dark red pool, becoming larger every moment as thelife-blood dripped slowly from beneath.
The scene was revolting. I placed my hands over my eyes to shut out frommy gaze the horrible contortions of the victim's face.
Yet those assembled were gleeful and excited. Omar was the son of theirunconquerable enemy, and they delighted in witnessing his humiliation andagony. Times without number the negro with the strangely-marked visageseared the flesh of my helpless companion; then in response to his ordershis black-plumed slaves drew tighter the bonds that confined his anklesand wrists until the sound of the crushing of bones and sinews reachedour ears.
Again a loud shriek echoed along the high-roofed hall. Omar was no longerable to bear the excruciating pain in silence.
"Courage," I cried in English, heedless of the consequences. "Courage.Let this fiend see that he cannot rule us as he does his cringingslaves."
"Think! think of yourself, Scars!" he gasped with extreme difficulty. "Ifthey kill me, forgive me for bringing you from England. I--I did not knowthat this trap had been prepared for me."
"I forgive you everything," I answered, glancing for a moment at hiswhite, blood-smeared countenance. "Bear up. You must--you shall not die."
But even as I spoke, the executioner, who had been bending over the fire,withdrew with his tongs a band of iron with long sharp spikes on theinside now red with heat, and as the slaves released the pressure uponhis wrists and ankles the sinister-faced negro placed the terrible bandaround the victim's waist and by means of a screw quickly drew it sotight that the red-hot spikes ran into the flesh, causing it to smoke andemit a hissing noise that was horrible.
Again poor Omar squirmed in pain and gave vent to a shrill, agonised cry.But it was not repeated.
Everyone stood eager and open-mouthed, and even the villainous Samoryrose from his divan to more closely watch the effect of the fearfultorture now being applied.
The victim's upturned face was white as the marble pavement. From thecorners of the mouth a thin red stream oozed, and the closed eyes andimperceptible breathing showed plainly that no torture, however inhuman,could cause him further agony. He had lapsed into unconsciousness.
"Hold!" cried Samory at last, seeing the executioner about to prepare yetanother torture. "Take the pagan author of malice from my sight, let hiswounds be dressed, and apply thy persuasion unto him again to-morrow atsundown. He shall speak, I vow before the great Allah and M
ahomet, theProphet of the Just. He shall tell us where the treasure lieth hidden."
"O, light of the earth," cried one of the councillors, a white-beardedsage who wore a robe of crimson silk beautifully embroidered. "Though thehand of time hath not yet spread the fruits of manhood upon this youth'scheeks, yet neither the splendour of thy court nor the words from thylips could steal from the young prince the knowledge of himself. He hathcursed thee with the three curses of the pagans Takhar, Tuirakh, andZomara, the Crocodile-god, held in awe by all."
"Well, thinkest thou that I fear the empty threats of a youth whosehostility towards me arises from the fact that I captured his father onthe Great Salt Road, and smiting off his head, sent it as a present tothe Naya?" asked Samory in indignation.
But as the black-plumed slaves removed the inanimate form of Omar, theaged councillor stepped forward boldly, saying:
"I perceive, O source of light, that the dark clouds of evil aregathering to disturb the hours of futurity; the spirits of the wicked arepreparing the storm and the tempest against thee; but--the volumes ofFate are torn from my sight, and the end of thy troubles is unknown."
The councillors exchanged glances and stood aghast, but Samory, lividwith rage, sprang from his divan and commenced to upbraid the aged seerfor his words of warning. I was not, however, allowed to listen to thefurther discussion of the old man's prophecy, being hurried by two of thetorturer's slaves back to my underground cell, where I remained alone formany hours awaiting Omar, who, I presumed, was being brought back toconsciousness in another part of the great impregnable fortress, themazes of which were bewildering.
The Great White Queen: A Tale of Treasure and Treason Page 9