CHAPTER XX.
THE SORCERER.
On the same day, a tolderia, situated at some miles from Orano, on thebanks of the Carampangue, was a scene of the greatest commotion. Thewomen and warriors assembled in front of a toldo, on the threshold ofwhich was exposed a corpse, lying as it were in state, upon a bed ofbranches, were uttering cries and groans, which were mingled with thedeafening sound of drums and flutes in most dismal discord, and thecontinuous howling of dogs, whom all this din rendered furious. In themiddle of the crowd, by the side of the body, stood a man advancedin years, tall in stature, and clothed in the costume of a woman,who appeared to direct the ceremony, making extraordinary gesturesand contortions, accompanied by scarcely human yells. This man, of aferocious aspect, was the machi, or sorcerer of the tribe; the motionshe affected, the cries he uttered, were intended to protect the bodyagainst the attacks of the evil genius, supposed to be eager to getpossession of it. At a sign from him the music and groans ceased; theevil genius, conquered by the power of the machi, had given up thecontest, after a sharp struggle, and abandoned the body which it wasbeyond his power to obtain. The sorcerer then turned towards a man oflofty stature and commanding countenance, who stood near him leaningupon a long lance.
"Ulmen of the powerful tribe of the Great Hare," he said, in asepulchral tone, "thy father, the valiant Ulmen, who has been ravishedfrom us by Pillian, is no longer in dread of the influence of theevil genius, whom I have forced to depart; he now hunts in the happyprairies of the Eskennane with the just warriors: all the rites areaccomplished--the hour for surrendering his body to the earth hasarrived!"
"Stop!" the chief replied, warmly; "my father is dead, but who haskilled him? A warrior does not succumb thus, in a few hours, unless somesecret influence has weighed upon him, and dried up the springs of lifein his heart. Answer me, O machi, inspired by Pillian! Tell me the nameof the assassin! My heart is sad, and can only be comforted by avengingmy father."
At these words, pronounced in a firm voice, a shudder crept through theranks of the people assembled in a group round the body. The machi,after having looked searchingly round, cast down his eyes, crossed hisarms upon his breast, and appeared to reflect.
The Araucanos only think one sort of death possible--that on the fieldof battle; they do not suppose any one can lose his life by eitheraccident or disease; in these two cases they always attribute death tothe action of an occult power, and are persuaded that some enemy ofthe defunct has cast the charm upon him that has killed him. In thispersuasion, at the period of the funeral ceremonies, the relations andfriends of the dead person call upon the machi to denounce the assassinto them. The machi is obliged to point him out; it would be in vainfor him to endeavour to make them comprehend that the death of theirrelation is natural, for their fury would be immediately turned againsthim, and he would become their victim.
In this hard alternative, the machi takes good care not to hesitate; themurderer is the more easily pointed out through his non-existence, andfrom the sorcerer being in no danger of being suspected of deception.Generally, in order to make his own interests agree with those of therelations who claim a victim, he gives up one of his own personalenemies to their vengeance; when--but that is rare--the machi has noenemies, he fixes upon someone at hazard. The pretended murderer, inspite of his protestations of innocence, is immolated without mercy.
It may be easily understood how perilous such a custom is, and whatan influence it gives the sorcerer in the tribe; an influence we areobliged to admit which he abuses under all circumstances, without theleast scruple.
Fresh personages, among whom were Valentine and his friend, had arrivedat the village, and, attracted by curiosity, mingled with the crowdcollected round the body. The two Frenchmen could not comprehendanything of this scene till their guide had briefly explained it tothem; then they followed the different phases of it with great interest.
"Speak!" said the Ulmen, after a short pause. "Does not my father knowthe name of the man of whom we must demand an account of this murder?"
"I know him," the sorcerer replied, in a solemn tone.
"Why, then, does the inspired machi preserve silence, when the dead bodycries for vengeance?"
"Because," the machi said, looking this time the newly-arrived chieffull in the face, "there are powerful men who laugh at human justice."
The eyes of the crowd turned to the man whom the sorcerer appearedindirectly to point out.
"The guilty man," the Ulmen cried, in a loud voice, "whatever be hisrank in the tribe, shall not escape my just vengeance; speak withoutfear, priest of fate! I swear that the man whose name passes your lipsshall die!"
The machi drew himself up majestically; he raised his arm slowly, and,amidst the general anxious curiosity, he, with his finger, pointed tothe chief who had offered such cordial hospitality to the strangers,saying, in a loud, ringing voice--
"Accomplish your oath, then, Ulmen--that is the assassin of your father,Trangoil-Lanec cast the charm upon him which has killed him!"
And the machi veiled his face with the corner of his poncho, as ifoverwhelmed with grief at making the revelation.
The sorcerer's terrible words were succeeded by the silence ofastonishment. Trangoil-Lanec was the last man in the tribe who wouldhave been suspected. He was beloved and venerated by all for hiscourage, frankness, and generosity. The first sensation of surpriseover, a general movement took place in the crowd; all drew back fromthe supposed murderer, leaving him face to face with the chief of whosedeath he was accused. Trangoil-Lanec remained impassive, a smile ofdisdain passed over his lips, he dismounted from his horse, and waited.
The Ulmen walked slowly towards him, and when within a few paces, asked,in a sorrowful voice--
"Why didst thou kill my father, Trangoil-Lanec? He loved thee, and I,was not I thy Penni?"
"I have not killed thy father, Curumilla," the chief replied, with atone of frankness that would have convinced a man less prejudiced thanthe one he addressed.
"The machi has said so."
"The machi lies."
"No, the machi cannot lie--he is inspired by Pillian; thou, thy wife,and thy children must die; the law decrees that it shall be so."
Without deigning to reply, the chief threw down his arms, and wentand placed himself beside the stake of blood, planted in front of themedicine toldo, which contains the sacred idol. A circle was formed, ofwhich the stake formed the centre; the wife and children of the chiefwere brought up, and were prepared immediately for the sacrifice; forthe funeral ceremony of the chief could not be completed before theexecution of his murderer. The machi was triumphant. One man alone inthe tribe had ventured to hold up his hand against his robberies androgueries, and that man was about to die and leave him absolute master.Upon a sign from Curumilla, two Indians seized the chief, and, in spiteof the tears and sobs of his wives and children, they prepared to fastenhim to the stake.
The two Frenchmen had anxiously watched the spectacle of this infamousdrama; Louis was disgusted with the rascality of the machi and thecredulity of the Indians.
"Oh!" he said, to his friend, "we cannot allow this murder to beaccomplished."
"Hum!" muttered Valentine, stroking the ends of his light moustache, andcasting a glance around him, "hum! there is a great number of them."
"What matters it how many?" Louis replied, impetuously; "I will notbe the witness of such iniquity, if I die for it. I will attempt tosave the life of that unfortunate man, who so frankly offered us hisfriendship."
"The fact is," Valentine said, pensively, "this Trangoil-Lanec, as theycall him, is a very worthy fellow, for whom I feel a warm sympathy; butwhat can we do?"
"Pardieu!" Louis said, seizing his pistols, "throw ourselves between himand his enemies; we can each of us kill five or six."
"Yes, and the others will kill us, without our having succeeded insaving the man for whom we devote ourselves. A bad means that! Let ustry to find some other."
"We must be quick, then
; the torture is about to commence."
Valentine struck his forehead, and cried, with a jeering laugh--
"Bah! I have it! Trick must serve our turn--leave it to me; my old tradeof a mountebank will do! Help me, if I want it; but, for heaven's sake,swear to remain calm!"
"I swear I will, if you save him."
"Be satisfied--against rogue I'll play rogue and a half; these savagesshall see I can be more cunning than they."
Valentine urged his horse into the middle of the circle, and shouted--
"Stop a minute!"
At the unexpected appearance of this man, whom nobody had yet observed,all turned round and looked at him with astonishment. Louis, with hishands on his pistols, watched his movements with anxiety, ready to flyto his succour, if he needed it.
"We will not joke," continued Valentine, "we have not time for that.You are a set of fools, and your machi is laughing at you. What! wouldyou kill a man without a moment's reflection, because a rogue bids youdo so? Caramba! I have taken it into my head to prevent your committingsuch a folly--I will do it, too!"
And placing his hand upon his hip, he looked round with an intrepidglance. The Indians, according to their strange custom, listened tothis speech without evincing surprise, even by a gesture. Curumillaapproached him.
"My pale brother must retire," he said, calmly; "he is unacquainted withthe laws of the Puelches; this man is condemned, he must die; the machihas pointed him out as a murderer."
"I repeat to you, you are fools!" said Valentine shrugging hisshoulders; "your machi is no more a conjurer than I am; I again tellyou, he is cheating you, and I will prove it, if you will let me."
"What says my father?" said Curumilla to the machi, who stood cold andmotionless by the side of the body.
The machi smiled disdainfully.
"When did the white man ever speak truth?" he replied, with a sneer."Let this one prove what he asserts, if he is able."
"Good!" the Ulmen said; "the Murucho may speak."
"Pardieu!" cried Valentine. "Notwithstanding the bold-faced assurance ofthis individual, I shall find it no difficult matter to prove that he isan impostor."
"We are attentive," said Curumilla.
The Indians drew round with intense curiosity. Louis could not at allmake out what his friend proposed to do. He could only suppose that someextravagant idea had crossed his brain, and was as impatient as the restto see how he would come through his dangerous undertaking with honour.
"One moment!" said the machi, with perfect assurance. "What will mybrothers do if I prove my accusation true?"
"The stranger must die," said Curumilla, coolly.
"I accept the terms," Valentine replied, resolutely. Placed thus in thenecessity of explaining himself, the Frenchman drew himself up to hisfull height, and, knitting his brows, exclaimed pompously--
"I, too, am a great medicine man!"
The Indians bowed reverentially. The science of Europeans is perfectlyestablished among them; they respect without disputing it.
"It was not Trangoil-Lanec," continued the Frenchman, with the greatestaudacity, "who killed the chief; it was the machi himself."
A start of astonishment pervaded the assembly.
"I!" cried the machi, in a voice of amazement.
"You, yourself, and you know it well," replied Valentine, giving him alook that made him tremble.
"Stranger," said Trangoil-Lanec, with the majesty of a martyr, "it isno use to interpose in my favour; my brothers believe me guilty, andinnocent though I am, I must die."
"Your devotion to your laws is noble, but in this case it is absurd,"Valentine replied.
"This man is guilty," the machi persisted.
"Let us put an end to this, then," replied Trangoil-Lanec; "kill me!"
"What say my brothers?" Curumilla asked of the crowd, who pressedanxiously around him.
"That the Murucho medicine-man be allowed to prove the truth of hiswords," replied the warriors with one voice.
They loved Trangoil-Lanec, and in their hearts desired that he shouldnot die. On the other hand, they entertained for the machi a hatredwhich the profound terror he inspired them with scarcely sufficed tomake them conceal.
"Very well," said Valentine, "this is what I propose."
All were silent as the grave. The Frenchman drew his sword, and wavedthe bright blade before the eyes of the spectators.
"You see this weapon," said he, in a pompous tone; "I will put it intomy mouth, and swallow it up to the hilt. If Trangoil-Lanec is guilty, Ishall die; if he is innocent, as I affirm, Pillian will help me, and Ishall draw forth the sword from my body without suffering a wound."
"My brother speaks like a courageous warrior," said Curumilla; "we areready to behold."
"I will not suffer it!" Trangoil-Lanec shouted. "Does my brother want tokill himself?"
"Pillian is judge!" Valentine replied, with a smile of strangeexpression, and with an air of conviction admirably well played.
The two Frenchmen exchanged a glance. The Indians are perfect childrenin their love of spectacle, and the extraordinary proposal of theParisian seemed to them to admit of no reply.
"The trial! the trial!" they shouted.
"Very well," said Valentine; "let my brothers behold, then."
He first placed himself in the proper position adopted by jugglers whenthey exhibit this feat in public places; then introducing the blade ofthe sword into his mouth, in a few seconds the whole of it disappeared.During the performance of this trick, which in their eyes was amiracle, the Puelches watched the bold Frenchman in breathless terror.They could not comprehend how a man could perform such an operationwithout deliberately killing himself. Valentine turned on all sides,so that everyone might be convinced of the reality of the fact; thenhe deliberately withdrew the blade from his mouth, as bright as whenit came from the sheath. A cry of enthusiasm burst from the crowd: themiracle was evident.
"One minute more," he said; "I have still something to demand of you."
Silence was in an instant re-established.
"I have proved to you, in an incontrovertible manner, that the chief isnot guilty--have I not?"
"Yes! yes!" they shouted simultaneously; "the paleface is a greatmedicine man! he is beloved by Pillian!"
"Very well. Now, then," he added, with a sardonic smile directed towardsthe machi, "your machi should prove in his turn that I have calumniatedhim, and that it was not he who killed the Apo-Ulmen of your tribe. Thedead chief was a great warrior; it ought to be avenged."
"Yes," the warriors cried, "he ought to be avenged."
"My brother speaks well," observed Curumilla; "let the machi be put tothe proof."
The unfortunate machi perceived at once that he was lost. He becamelivid, and a cold perspiration bathed his temples, whilst a convulsivetremor shook his limbs.
"This man is an impostor," he muttered, in a voice scarcely audible; "heabuses your good faith."
"Perhaps I am," said Valentine; "but, in the meantime, imitate me."
"Here," said Curumilla, holding out the sword to the machi, "if you areinnocent, Pillian will protect you, as he has protected my brother."
"Caramba! that is certain; Pillian always protects the innocent, and youare about to be a proof of it," said the Parisian, in whom the revivedspirit of the _gamin_ was now triumphant.
The machi cast around a look of despair; all eyes were expressive ofimpatience and curiosity; the unhappy wretch perceived but too plainlythat he could look for help to nobody, and he formed his resolutioninstantly--he determined to die as he had lived, deceiving the crowd tothe last minute.
"I fear nothing," he said, in a firm voice; "this steel will be harmlessto me. You desire that I should go through the trial--I will obey. But,beware! Pillian is angry with your conduct towards me; the humiliationyou impose upon me will be avenged by the terrible scourges which hewill inflict upon you."
At these words of their prophet the Puelches were moved. They hesitated.For many lon
g years they had been accustomed to place entire faith inhis predictions, and they experienced a kind of fear in thus daring toaccuse him of imposture. Valentine saw at a glance what was passing intheir hearts.
"Capitally well played," he said, replying by a knowing wink to thetriumphant smile of the machi; "now it is my turn. Let my brothers takeheart!" he added, in a loud, firm voice. "No misfortune threatens them;this man speaks thus because he is afraid to die; he knows he is guilty,and that Pillian will not protect him."
The machi darted a glance at him gleaming with hatred, seized thesword, and, imitating as well as he knew how what he had seen, withdesperate quickness plunged the blade down his throat. A stream of blackblood sprang from his mouth, his eyes glared hideously, his arms shookconvulsively, he staggered two steps forward, and fell flat upon hisface. The people crowded round him--he was dead.
"Let this lying dog be thrown to the vultures," said Curumilla, kickingthe lifeless body with contempt.
"We are brothers for life and death," cried Trangoil-Lanec, embracingValentine.
"Well," the young man said with a smile, to his friend, "I think Ihave not got very badly through that affair--eh? You see, it is well,sometimes, to have practised many trades; even that of a mountebank mayserve at need."
"Do not calumniate your heart and courage," Louis replied, warmlypressing his hand; "you have; saved the life of a man."
"Aye; but I have killed another."
"Oh, he was a guilty wretch!"