The Plowshare and the Sword: A Tale of Old Quebec
CHAPTER XXXI.
IN THE FALL OF THE SNOW.
Because the Father of Waters was frozen over and its track buried insnow, despatches from Quebec could only be conveyed by the hand ofoverland couriers. Winter had set in early that year, and with morethan usual severity; and this was probably the reason why no messengerhad lately arrived from the heights to inform the governor of Acadie asto what had taken place in and around the modest capital of New France.
The priest was not concerned by this silence. He had indeed lost muchof his interest in the doings of the New World, since D'Archand hadinformed him of his popularity at home. He felt that he had made hisadvancement sure. During the weeks which followed autumn, when themaples were resigning their gorgeous vestments of red and gold, he hadoccupied himself in setting the affairs of his charge in order, lookingto shortly receive a command to proceed to Rome, there to receive thereward of his stewardship. Onawa had passed out of his memory, andwith her the brave young boy whom he had smitten in the forest byCouchicing. He sent no expedition out to search the land. He had donesufficient for glory. He was not the man to waste his energies uponworks of supererogation. No slip could lose him that spiritualprincipality towards which he had pressed by word and act since the dayof his ordination. As he strode through the snow the settlement seemedto shrink from him, and the trees to bow, as though foreseeing thepower which was about to pass into his hands.
La Salle reached his chapel, recited vespers in the arrogant voicewhich made him feared, and returned to his quarters. A spirit ofrestlessness was over him, and when he could resist no longer he rose,and, taking his sword, lunged repeatedly at a knot in the wall,striking it full until his body began to sweat.
"No falling off," he muttered, as he examined the pricks in the wood."No sign of weakness yet." He lowered the sword, and mechanicallywiped the point in the tail of his skirt, then passed his firm handcaressingly down the blade, murmuring, with a self-conscious smile: "Ihave finished my fighting. Henceforth my wrist must stiffen and my armrust, while the power which has controlled the sword shall pass intothe use of tongue and pen."
A knock fell upon the door, and in response to his reply a personalattendant entered, and with a low reverence announced:
"A messenger to speak with you, Excellency."
At the governor's word a man was ushered in, clad in furs, his beardheavy with icicles, a pair of long snow-shoes slung upon his back. Hemade a profound genuflection and stood with bent head awaitingpermission to speak.
"Come you from the upper fortress?" asked La Salle.
"Yes, Excellency, with despatches for France and a letter for yourHoliness."
La Salle put out his hand for the communication, broke the thread,unfolded the sheet, and, holding it in the lamplight, bent over to read.
"Ha!" he exclaimed, his eyes lifting. "Laroche. What means thissignature?"
"The noble commandant Roussilac has been stricken with sickness,"hesitated the messenger.
"What ails him?" asked the priest.
The man faltered, but finally gained courage to reply: "It is said,Excellency, that the noble commandant acts strangely, as a manpossessed by some unholy influence."
La Salle brought the letter again to his eyes, and hurriedly scannedthe ill-written lines.
"It is explained here," he said indifferently. "La tete lui a tourne.Was never an able man," he muttered to himself. "Was ambitious, andthought himself strong enough to stand alone. 'Tis but justice." Helooked across coldly, and sharply ordered the messenger to withdraw.
The emissary retired, bowing as he backed out, while La Salle ran hiseyes over the remainder of the letter, muttering his comments aloud.
"Gaudriole hanged for murdering a soldier. So, so! Was but a brute.The little Frenchwoman dead of a fit, and her daughter escaped. Aweeding-out, in faith. The traitorous Dutch gone beyond capture. TheEnglish spy also escaped. The men sent after him returned afoot, andswore that they had been set upon by demons among a range of whitemountains. Would have hanged the fools. The Iroquois tribes gone intowinter hunting-grounds. The country altogether clear. The Algonquinsstill friendly. This colony is now settled to France beyond question."
La Salle dropped the letter, and fell into musings. Once he put hishand to his brow, as though he could already feel a mitre pressingthere; he fingered his ring, and moved his foot, to frown when his eyessighted a rough boot instead of the scarlet shoe of his dreams. Thenhe was awakened by a noisy rattling and a shock.
The crucifix which had hung upon the log wall--more as a sign ofprofession, as the gauntlet outside the glove-maker's shop, than as asymbol he revered--lay broken upon the floor.
The priest rose, muttering a frightened imprecation, and as henervously gathered up the shattered symbol his ears became opened to ahurrying of feet over the fresh snow. All the soldiers and settlersappeared to be rushing past afoot, shaking the ground and the walls ofhis house. It was doubtless this disturbance which had detached thecrucifix from its nail. La Salle pulled a beaver cap over his foreheadand made for the outer door, and there encountered a messenger who cameto inform him that a ship's gun had been heard at sea.
"Bid them fire the beacon," said La Salle.
"It has been done, Excellency. There is not a breath over the water.But the snow pours down."
The priest's official bodyguard awaited him; and when he appeared everyman saluted and fell into place, and so accompanied him to the cliff,where a huge fire was making the sky scarlet. This fire was a centretowards which all the settlers were hastening like flies towards alantern. The coming of a ship from the Old World, with supplies, freshfaces, and news of friends, was a red-letter day in the monotonouscalendar of their lives. The white figures hurried through the nightlike an inferno of chattering ghosts.
"She shall not be in till morning light," quoth a wiseacre. "There arerocks, see you, in the gulf, and her master shall run no risk afterescaping the perils of the ocean."
"Will wager to-day's haul of fish that she lies up here before threehours are gone," cried another.
"And I my fishing-net that we shall not see her before day," retortedthe confident first speaker.
"That net is mine. Didst not hear the gun?"
"Sounds carry far through the winter air."
"The snow muffles. She is scarce a mile out."
"Ah, that is indeed a fire! The light of it shall reach far out atsea."
The excitable folk laughed loudly whenever a fresh load of wood wasflung upon the flames, and carried away by their feelings danced anambulatory ballet in the red mist, a dance, like the Prosperity of theArms of France to be given before Richelieu a few months later, notaltogether without political significance. These settlers danced tothe tune of their song; and their songs were Success to the Ships ofFrance and Destruction to the English. While these revels lasted noone observed a soldier hurrying up behind, with a woman at his side.The woman was Onawa, breathing quickly as though she had been runningat the top of her speed.
"Yonder stands his Holiness," said the man, stopping to point out LaSalle surrounded by his little band of attendants.
Onawa abandoned her guide and rushed out, maddened and witless with herfoolish passion, until she reached the side of the man she loved andwas warmed by his dark eyes, which yet flashed angrily upon her, as heturned to shake off the parasite, ejaculating:
"Whom have we here?"
"It is I," she cried wildly in French, having at length acquired somelittle knowledge of that language. "Let me speak." More she wouldhave said, but her store of the language failed in the time of need.
"Uncover her face," ordered La Salle. "Take her into the firelightthat we may see with whom we have to deal."
"Let me speak to you here," prayed the girl, drawing back into thesnow-lit gloom; but she was seized and dragged upward close to thedancing ring, and rough hands drew the covering from her face.
"Tete de mort!" exclaimed La Salle, and start
ed back when he recognisedthe face that had once been handsome set towards him in the wildfirelight, fearfully branded, the nostrils slit, the ears cropped, aletter seared upon each cheek. "Cover that horror, and drive her outlest she bewitch us."
"Hear me," the unhappy girl moaned, holding out her hands in an agonyof supplication. "Yonder your enemy cover the shore. Many men and aship held in the ice." She panted forth the syllables in the bestFrench she could muster, throwing out her hands along the eastern shore.
La Salle's expression altered as he turned to his subordinates with theold fighting passion in his eye and heart.
"My men," he said, "this woman is but an Indian, but she istrustworthy, I know. An English vessel has been cast ashore, and thesailors seek to make shelter. What say you? Shall we warm our bloodand relieve this tedious time of waiting by venturing out toexterminate the vermin?"
"Should we not first send out a spy?" suggested an old officer.
"It is well thought on. Choose you a man, and bid him take this womanfor a guide. Let him stab her if she prove false. Do you gathertogether our fighters," went on the priest, turning to another, "andbid them make ready to sally out immediately."
"Shall you venture yourself, Excellency?"
"Shall I not!" cried La Salle, his hot blood afire for one more fightand one more triumph. "I fear we shall find but poor sport, but suchas it is I shall take my share. Break up yonder circle of madmen, andorder them to make ready. Hasten, so that we may have our hunt, and beready to receive the ship when she sails out of the fog."
"I go not," cried Onawa, furiously resisting the soldiers who wouldhave forced her away. She broke from them, ran to La Salle, and fellupon her knees, panting: "I go with you, that I may fight with you, anddie for you."
"The woman has yet to learn a soldier's discipline," said La Sallecoldly. "Secure a rope round her, and if she prove obstinate let herfeel the end of it."
Onawa flung herself forward to grasp his feet, but two soldiers steppedout and dragged her away.
"Now, my brave comrades! To arms!" shouted the fighting priest.