Part 50 (1/2)
”Leonie,” he called gently, ”Leonie, come to me, come here to _me_!”
Her eyelids suddenly closed upon the staring gold-flecked eyes; her mouth quivered in a little smile as she let fall the flowers about her bloodstained feet and ran swiftly across to Jan; kneeling she touched his face gently with her finger-tips, and stretched her hands across his shoulders towards the thongs which bound him to the ring in the wall.
Her hair fell upon him as she leaned towards him, and a memory of the day he had found her in Rockham Cove flashed across his mind; her mouth, her beautiful scarlet virgin mouth had almost touched his when the priest's power, closing down, jerked her back into the horrible travesty of her sweet, gentle self.
She sat back upon her heels and laughed, and said one word in Hindustani which is best translated as dog, although it means infinitely more and worse; and having uttered it she smote him across the mouth with the flat of her hand and rose to her feet.
She stood for a moment laughing silently, looking down upon him, and turning, ran swiftly across the flags to the block of fallen stones.
There she paused and glanced at the white man bound to the wall with the light of battle in his eyes, before she disappeared, beckoning to the priest who followed as she ran down the pa.s.sage of the G.o.ds, making obeisance before them as she pa.s.sed.
CHAPTER XLIX
”The soil out of which such men as he are made is good to be born on, good to live on, good to die for, and to be buried in.”--_Lowell_.
Leonie lay motionless on the stained stone before the altar; her hair, pulled back clear from her neck, swept behind her head like a cascade of rust-coloured water to the floor; her hands were clasped between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and her great unfathomable eyes stared up into those of the stone woman who looked down at her and seemed to laugh with joy at her long coveted prize.
In every corner black shapes danced; advancing, retreating, springing towards the roof and vanis.h.i.+ng utterly. The place seemed infested with goblins, or devils, things of untold evilness and vice, although, in reality, they were but the shadows thrown by the little lights which were like tongues licking the lips of darkness in sensuous antic.i.p.ation of the coming feast of blood.
The old priest stood looking up at his G.o.d with perplexity in his sunken eyes.
Arrayed in snow-white garment, with long hair hanging down, he held the knife of sacrifice in one hand, and in the other the sacred _roomal_.
The terrible picture shone softly in the light of the full moon which struck straight down upon the altar through a hole in the ruined roof.
”Tell thy servant thy pleasure, O Black One!” prayed the priest, swaying slightly to and fro. ”Make him understand it the _roomal_ shall be knotted about the neck of this white sacrifice, or if the knife shall draw a necklace of red about the white neck and upon the white breast. Give me an answer, O Mother, that I may right the wrong of many moons ago. A sign, a sign, O Mother!”
As he spoke; and for no apparent reason, Leonie's hands unclasped, her arms opened and fell towards her sides, leaving the beautiful breast bare with the jewel in shape and colour of a cat's eye winking craftily with the cunning and knowledge of the sins of all ages, just above the heart.
The priest shouted in wors.h.i.+p, and his words, caught, echoed and re-echoed from the dome, drowned the sound of footsteps running at high speed across the flower-strewn floor.
Madhu Krishnaghar, naked save for the turban which bound his handsome head and the loin cloth which girt the slender middle, sped like the wind to the rescue of his beloved.
In the black shades of the jungle, understanding at last that for him there could be no life outside the life of the white woman he loved, and no happiness outside her happiness, he had raced Time down the jungle path, through the outer gates and temple door, pausing not for the fraction of a second; realising, as he ran, that upon his speed alone depended the life of his beloved. And even as the priest flung back his arm with a scream of ecstasy, the knife was wrenched out of his hand from behind.
O Madhu, you splendid heathen, who defied the anger of your strange G.o.ds for the love in your n.o.ble heart.
”Ha!” said the old man as he swung round in fury; then he smiled and opened wide his arms. ”Thou! O my son! _thou_! Thou wouldst offer the great sacrifice thyself to our most gentle mother. And art thou not in the right? Thine has been the task and the toil, therefore is it meet that thou shouldst have the reward.”
He laid his hands upon the shoulders of the youth, who straightway gripped the veined old wrists and raised the withered arms high up above their heads, while their eyes met in a sudden-born, subconscious enmity, and the knife lay glittering along the wrinkled brown skin.
Only for an instant, and Madhu let go his hold, and turning, stood looking down upon the jewel above the woman's heart. As he looked, the thing, catching the reflections of the lights, shone strangely bright upon the snow-white skin, and the l.u.s.t of blood swept him from head to foot.
He longed to drive the dagger through the breast above the s.h.i.+ning jewel; he craved to see the whiteness of the skin stained with red, to throw himself upon the still form and shut the dead mouth with kisses.
He was mad with pa.s.sion, intoxicated with the heavy perfumed air, drunk with the atmosphere of his surroundings, and his slim body shook as he ran the needle-point of the dagger into his own breast.
He closed his eyes in the ecstasy of that pain which is twin to the ecstasy of desire fulfilled, and in their closing woke suddenly to the purity of his strange love. He turned with a snarl and hit up the old man's hand as it almost touched the nape of his neck, and stretching wide his arms made a s.h.i.+eld of his body between Leonie and the intent he read in the priest's eyes, just as a brick fell and split to pieces at their feet.