Kitabı oku: «The Flute of the Gods», sayfa 14

So he went, and José followed, and Yahn watched them–to her great, yet silent rage.

Ka-yemo only reached the village as the last scout was started for the trail of the Po-et-se cañon. Ka-yemo was the official for the war orders, yet the orders had been given without speech with him! Over his head had it been done, and his protest to the governor, and to the old men in council brought him little of pride or of comfort.

“On the trail to see your wife you might have died,” said one of the old men,–“or on the way coming home. How could we know? If you die and we have to fight–we have to fight without you. Before you were born we fought without you.”

“I was not to see a wife!” protested Ka-yemo. “I can stay away like other men. Some one has talked crooked! I was on the mesa talking with the guardians who make the arrow heads. To the far away ones I talked. The women send word to them that they are afraid. A ghost is at Pu-yé. All the women but the Twilight Woman are much frightened. They want men.”

“Good!” said the governor. “The scouts are already on the trail. If men are needed, each man is ready and each spear is waiting. To the Po-Ahtun-ho has been shown a vision of the enemy–it was not a time to wait for council.”

Ka-yemo’s handsome face was still sulky. The vision of Tahn-té might have waited. He had come down with a fine new story of a ghost seen in the ruins of Pu-yé, and it was ignored because Tahn-té the Po-Athun-ho had found a vision!

Tahn-té entered not at all into the discussion of the confiscated rights of Ka-yemo. Even of the ghost frightening the women he asked no question. Many things of war were talked of if the Navahu should come to steal women or corn, and the dusk of the twilight crept after the vanished sun when Tahn-té turned at last to the war chief.

“Ka-yemo, with the men of iron you have spoken much and often,” he said quietly. “Do you know who told them first that in Povi-whah was held the secret of the yellow metal for which they search?”

The tongue of Ka-yemo became stiff as all sat silent waiting for his answer.

“The padre asked me,”–he said at last,–“the padre always makes people speak–I told the padre that which I had heard.”

There was a slight stir among the men, but Tahn-té quieted them with a glance.

“The priest of the iron men has also been told one other thing,” he continued–“and it is well for you all, brothers, that you hear this thing. Oh-we-tahnh, the outcast of Ni-am-be, was a strong medicine man. He used magic in a dark way for evil. His power was taken from him. He was told by the council to forget the secret of the sun symbol. Brothers, he has not forgotten! He has come to the camp of the men of iron. He eats their food:–last night he slept by their walls.”

“Our brothers of Ni-am-be will not be glad with us if we let this be,” stated one man. “The evil magic must be outcast always.”

“Send some one and find the man,” said Tahn-té. “When the sun of to-morrow comes, all who listen here may be on the war trail. It is not good to leave a coyote loose to do harm when no one watches.”

In a little while the outcast was brought into the circle. He cringed with fear, and his eyes were restless as those of a trapped wolf. The governor questioned him as to his presence there, reminding him that the council of Ni-am-be had granted him life only if he take that life out of sight of his kind. Why then did he come to Povi-whah and stay in the camp of the strangers?

His only reply was that he would go now, and he would go quickly.

“No–not quickly,” said Tahn-té. “You will not go quickly any where ever again. I am looking at you! I say so!”

The man stared at Tahn-té like a bird that was under a charm. All the others saw the steady gaze of Tahn-té, and saw also that the outcast began to tremble.

“Hold out your hand,” said Tahn-té, and when it was done, Tahn-té took from his medicine pouch some pieces of yellow gold. They were heavy, he passed them around until all might see, then he put the gold in the hand of the outcast.

“Your clan was a proud clan and good, and you made them ashamed,” said Tahn-té. “You had strong medicine and you used it for evil until your name must not be spoken by your brothers. To these men of iron you would trade that which is not yours: Without speech of council you would do this–and to do it would be traitor! Because your heart wishes to give the sun symbol to these strangers, I send you to them with what your hand can hold. To the priest of the white god give it! Tell him I, the Po-Ahtun-ho, send it, and no more than that will he ever see here in Povi-whah. Tell him that the weight of it makes your hand shake and your body shake. Tell him that the sickness is now in your blood, and when the day comes again your tongue cannot make words to tell him things. Tell him if his men put you in the saddle, or carry you to the hidden place of the Sun Father, that the light of your eyes will go out on the trail! I am looking at you!–and you, who once had a name, and were a worker of magic, know that I look on you with Power, and that it will be as I say.”

He stooped and drew in the ashes of the place of fire, the figure of a man with hand stretched out, then, with a breath, he sent the ashes in a little cloud and each line was obliterated.

“To destroy you would not be good,”–he continued. “It is better that the boys and the young men see the fate given to a traitor. My brothers,–is this well?”

“It is well!” said the men, but the voice of the war chief was not loud, and his hands shook until he clasped them together and held them steady.

Tahn-té looked around the circle as though undecided, and then rested on Ka-yemo.

“You speak the words of the Castilian man, and like to speak them,” he said quietly, “so it will be well for you to make the words for this man who carries to their priest the gift of the sun symbol. Forget no thought of it–for all the words have meaning.”

And this speech to Ka-yemo was in Castilian, and was plainly said, and Ruy Sandoval knew then why the courtesy of the council had been extended to him.

And the outcast, holding the nuggets in his trembling outstretched hand shook so that he could not go alone up the ladder to the world above.

Ka-yemo, with a still, strange face of fear, put out his hand to help the outcast, who looked as if Great King Death had called his name.

No more words were spoken, and the men in silence followed after. They had seen a thing of strong medicine, and the Great Mystery had sent power quickly. That palsy by which the man had been touched had come with the swiftness of the wind when it whirls the leaves of the cottonwood. They all knew that the tongue would be dumb, and the eyes would be blind in the given time if need be.

And Don Ruy like the others, was touched with awe of the man who had wrought the thing. As he went up the ladder he looked back at the Ruler who sat still–gazing into the ashes of the place of sacred fire.

CHAPTER XVI
THE TRUE VISION

The sentinels on the terrace who watched the night in Povi-whah knew these were nights when they did not watch alone. The Po-Ahtun-ho was abroad in the night for prayer, and when they made reports in the morning, they knew that he had not waited for such reports ere being wise as to each shining path of a bright spirit sent earthward by the Great Mystery,–or each shadow passing over the Mother of the Starry Skirt, or the nearness of the visiting Ancient Star to the constellations on its trail to the twilight land of many days.

They knew he was watching the world overhead. With the Piñ-pe-yé, that mystic compass of the Milky Way, was he balancing the fate of things as written in the light of the Sky Mother whose starry skirt was a garment to which departed souls cling. So many are the souls of earth people that their trail makes luminous the white way of the sky, and all the world, and all the people, can of course be seen from that height of the sky, and when a dart of heat lightning sped earthward to the west, the sentinels cast prayer meals and knew that Those Above were sending messages to Tahn-té who prayed as no other prayed.

And on the heights were his prayers, for ever it was to the mesa and beyond that his trail led since the mighty wrath of the wind by which the corn was broken to earth. The darkness was often running from the dawn ere he came downward from the hills into the valley.

A scout, speeding eastward from the mountains in the dawn saw him coming down from the ancient place of the Reader of the Stars in Pu-yé–the sacred place where no other reader of the Sky Things goes in the night. The Lost Others are known to abide there, and mourn the barren field of the older day.

At times strange magic circles the ancient dwellings of the cliff. Before a storm, light flickers like fiery butterflies above the fallen walls on the summit.

For this reason was it deemed holy, and for this reason were the women of Shufinne much afraid when the ghost of a woman was seen plainly there between the edge of the cliff, and the silver disk of the moon.

The scout carried this word, and Tahn-té who had been seen coming from prayers there, listened, but gave little heed;–the women had seen shadows, and the older men said they were only weary that the men were so far across the mesas. Fire out of the sky, or out of the earth, had often danced on those heights, but no woman had been there in a ghost form ever in the memory of men.

Much more were they intent to know of any trace of warriors on the hills, but only smoke had been seen far beyond the place of the boiling water of the hill springs, and the smoke could easily be of Ua-lano hunters. Other scouts were yet to come. They had made longer runs. This man had been told to return at dawn of the day.

So the word went abroad, and in the Castilian camp, Don Diego gave fervent thanks. He was none too well pleased that to secure records for the “Relaciones” it might be necessary to carry a spear against the heathen. It had been plainly understood in far off Mexico that the people to be visited were not a hostile people. They were to be found waiting for salvation, and with good gold to pay for it!

The offer of the padre to give aid in battle to their Indian brethren, had been but a courteous pleasantry when uttered. It was a different matter when scouts were sent abroad by the pagan Ruler to seek trouble and bring it home to all of them!

Trouble enough was he brewing by that gift to the padre of the sacred sun symbol. The pariah who brought it was under the curse medicine of Tahn-té. Before their eyes he sat dumb, and the Castilians crossed themselves with dread as they looked on him. He was the visible warning of a doom awaiting any other who dared speak!

Not alone could he lift water to his own lips. The trembling of his hand was now the trembling of his entire body. By order of Tahn-té he was to be taken to one of the little cliff dwellings at the foot of the mesa. Each seven suns, an old man and a group of boys were to have the task of carrying to him food and water, and each visit the boys were to be told by the Ancient why the medicine had been put upon the outcast. Thus all youth would know that the Great Mystery sent power against traitors.

In vain Padre Vicente tried to scoff at the reality of it, or the continuance of it. The men pointed to the palsied man, and prayers were remembered by many who were not pious. Indian witchcraft was not to their liking!

“Paracelsus with his necromancy has done nothing worse!” declared Don Diego. “This barbarian priest lacks bowels in his devilish art! Had he not sent the gift of gold, the aggravation would have been less pointed. That insult from the heretic is not to be endured.”

“Yet the saints do give us strength for the endurance, Señor,” replied the secretary, “and Don Ruy paces apart, and keeps key on his thoughts since that council. Think you he fears magic of the Po-Ahtun-ho?”

“A good thing were it true!” decided Don Diego–“overmuch is he inclined to countenance their pagan practices, and find likeness in their mummeries to the mysteries of the Greek–and even the Egyptian of ancient days! The sorcerer has snared him with that ungodly learning of books. But while we see it, and know it, Chico my son, it is as well that the thought enters not into the ‘Relaciones.’ Don Ruy in the desert is a good comrade, but his Excellency in Madrid could nip any book in the bud–even the most stupendous.”

“He is so great in power?”

“He is–but it is enough to know that he is the darling of princes, and has not yet been ignored by their sisters! That which he wants in Madrid comes easily to his hand,–and this wild adventuring is unprofitable madness.”

“Not unprofitable shall it remain,” decided Padre Vicente, who had walked near enough to hear their converse, and whose interest was ever alert to further knowledge of their patron.–“Let the heathen sorcerer send what insolent message he will, it does not change the fact the gold has been put into our hands. It is clear proof that the story of the Indian mine was a story of truth.”

“Strange it is that the abhorred Teo the Greek should have been the one to carry word of it out to the world”–mused Don Diego. “Write down in the ‘Relaciones,’ Chico, that the ways of the saints are often wondrous peculiar in the selection of evil instruments for pious works.”

“Yes, Señor, and shall I write down also that the piety has not, up to this date, made so much progress as devout minds could have hoped?”

“You may do so,” conceded Don Diego–“but fail not to give the true reason. Had these poor stubborn barbarians not sent their women away, the padre would have won many souls for the faith ere this. Women are the instruments through which religion reaches men. Not until the women have been frightened back to their homes can we hope for a comforting harvest of souls.”

“There is one soul waiting to be gathered with the harvest,” said the lad, pointing to the outcast. “If Christian prayers could lift from his shaking hands the pagan doom, it would not do more to make converts here than wordy argument.”

“The governor and the head men approve of his sentence because the man made camp here without the word of council,” stated Padre Vicente. “It is not well to meddle with their Pueblo laws.”

Yahn, who listened, saw the smile on Chico’s face, and wondered why the lad should be humorous because the priest did not venture to measure saintly prayers with heathen medicine!

Glad enough she was that it was so, and eager she was that some one should tell to Ka-yemo that his new friends had a weaker god than the god of the Te-hua people,–even the medicine of Tahn-té–the medicine of one man–made them respectful!

But her own lips were sealed between anger and jealousy. Like a sullen figure of fate she had brooded during the days of strange changes. Sullen also she listened to speech of sorcery, and speech of war if war came.

To go to battle was the one way by which Ka-yemo could dominate and make the men of iron see there was another than Tahn-té in Povi-whah. This thing she thought of by day, and dreamed of in the night.

She heard his name on the lips of the old women and of Säh-pah, again they talked of the day when the father had been left behind by the warriors to pull weeds in the corn!

Like a chained tigress she walked the terraces and heard their laughter, but no word did she say. If once their laughing words had been said to her, she felt she would kill Säh-pah!

And Ka-yemo gazed at her with burning eyes afar off–yet looked the other way if by chance they passed each other in the court of the village. It was true he started over the mesa to Shufinne where the new wife waited with the other young women and the girl children, but midway on the trail the thought of Yahn and Juan Gonzalvo had come to him–and he had turned in his tracks, and the new wife of the many robes, and wealth of shell beads, was not seen by him.

Phen-tza the governor said hard words to him that his actions made laughter,–and that he went about as in an angry dream, and that the warriors asked who was to lead if the day vision of Tahn-té proved a true vision!

“I did not see the vision of Tahn-té,” retorted Ka-yemo–“the people to whom he made it clear of sight, say it was across the river to the sunrise–why then does Tahn-té ask for scouts running to the sunset hills? That is new medicine.”

“The council asked that thing while you were yet on the mesa,” said the governor patiently. “The people who saw the vision of Tahn-té saw only the spirit form of Navahu warriors,” and the governor puffed smoke from his pipe to the four ways to propitiate the gods for the mention of those who belonged in the spirit land. “But before the vision was carried away by magic of the wind, Tahn-té saw more than the others, he saw a dream mountain behind them–and cliffs and a mountain pass that is known to his eyes. Through that pass they were coming, and the pass is beyond the sacred mountain to the land of the hunting ground of the sunset. By that trail he knows they come–or they will come!”

“You think the vision of Tahn-té is clear, and his medicine good!” said Ka-yemo–“But the men of iron are wise also. They call him–sorcerer.”

“It is not yet the time to say it aloud,” warned the governor. “This is a time of strange things, and our eyes saw that which came to the outcast who carried the sun symbol to the men of iron. The medicine of the white men is strong, and they could be good brothers in battle,–but not yet has their man of sacred medicine shown magic like that,” and he pointed to the outcast waiting and shaking in the sunshine against the wall of the village.

Ka-yemo knew by these words that even his own clan watched him closely–Tahn-té had made the jealous hearts afraid.

Yahn saw him go alone to the river’s edge, and sit long alone; his handsome head was bent in thought and to no one could the thought be told. From the terrace Yahn watched. It was a time when the war chief should call men and see that bows were strong, and lances ready. It was not a time to walk apart and be unseen of the warriors. One man, who fastened a scalp to his lance for good medicine, talked with Säh-pah, and the woman laughed and asked who would pull weeds in the corn if all men went seeking the Navahu!

When Yahn Tysn-deh heard that, she went down from the terrace into her own dwelling, and made prayers to her own gods of her Apache people. With a blade of obsidian she made scars until the blood dripped from her braceletted arms. To the divinely created Woman Without Parents, she chanted a song of prayer, and to the Twin Gods who slew enemies, she let her blood drop by drop fall on the sacred meal of the medicine bowl:–all this that one man be given power–and all this that a Te-hua clan be not ashamed in the sight of gods!

Through the words of her prayer she heard the hurry of feet, and the shrill of voices, and past her dwelling tramped men of iron clanging the metal of their arms, and the voice of Chico was heard calling her name at the door, telling her the scouts had found the Navahu camp:–to come quickly to Don Diego. Tahn-té had read aright the magic of the vision of the sand and the sun!

And Yahn Tsyn-deh slipped shell ornaments over the wounds on her arms, and went out to make words for the Christians.

CHAPTER XVII
THINGS REVEALED ON THE HEIGHTS

All the Castilians but Padre Vicente and Don Diego went with the warriors to the western heights. For reasons of his own, the padre preferred the pueblo when freed of the influence of Tahn-té, and Don Diego preferred to bear him company,–a secretary could well look after the records of warfare, if it came to warfare, though for his own part he believed not any of the heathen prophecy of the coming of warriors, and wondered much that his eminence, the padre, showed patience with their pagan mummeries. He assured the padre that it would be a wrong against Holy Church to grant the sacraments to the pagan Cacique until that doom of the outcast had been revoked;–To take the power of high God for the managing of pueblo matters was not a thing to grant absolution for! And Padre Vicente, to quiet his anxiety on that score, agreed that when the pagan Cacique came for absolution, he should be reminded of his iniquity.

And while they settled this weighty matter, the young Ruler who had prophesied, moved contrary to custom, with the leaders across the high mesa, and was followed by the Castilian horsemen, in their shining coats of mail, and on a mule led by Gonzalvo rode Yahn, unafraid, and with proud looks.

And ever her eyes rested on Ka-yemo who held his place of chief, and chanted a war song, and was so handsome a barbarian that Don Ruy made mention of it, and told the secretary that he was worth an entire page of the “Relaciones,” even though not a thing of war came in their trail.

The great white cliff of a thousand homes of the past, filled the Castilian mind with wonder. Generations had lived and died since the ghost city of the other days had throbbed with life, still the stucco of the walls was yet ivory white, and creamy yellow, and it looked from the pine woods like a far reaching castle of dreams.

It was nearing the sunset, and a windless heat brooded over the heights where usually the pines made whisperings, clouds of flame color hung above the dark summits of the mountain, and the reflected light turned the ghostly dwellings to a place of blood-tinged mystery. More than one of the adventurers crossed themselves. Don Ruy said it looked, in the lurid glow, like a place of enchantment.

“But there are beautiful enchantments,” said Chico–“and this may be one of them! Think you we might find walls pictured by Merlin the magian if we but climb the steep? Magic that is beautiful should not be hedged around by a mere ocean or two!”

“This is the place of the ghost woman,” stated Yahn,–“and Shufinne, where the women are afraid, is beyond.”

Within sight was Shufinne, and there the Castilians had expected to camp. But among the older Indians there had been talk–and who can gauge the heathen mind?

“Two camps will we make,” they decided. “Here is most water for the animals and here our white brothers can wait; at Shufinne will the Te-hua guard be awake all the night, and give warning if the enemy comes,–other guards will watch the trail of the cañon. Thus we cover much ground,–no one can pass to the villages of the river;–and quickly can all camps help the one where the enemy comes.”

“Not so bad is the generalship in spreading their net,” said Don Ruy.

“Nor in excluding the stranger from the hiding place of their pretty maids,” added Chico with amusement. “Ysobel–ride you close to me. This is the place where they herd their women, and guard them,–and you are not so ill favored in many ways as some I have seen.”

Ysobel whimpered that it was not to follow war she had left Mexico and her own people, and like Don Diego she could see no good reason to search for trouble in the hills.

“Then why not stay behind safe walls with the padre?” asked Don Ruy, and Ysobel went dumb and looked at Chico–and the lad shrugged and smiled.

“Has she not married a man?” he queried, “and does not the boy Cupid make women do things most wondrous strange in every land? José would fare as well without her watchful eye, but no power could make her think it,–so come she would on a lop-eared mule despite all my fine logic!”

“You–yourself–would come!” retorted Ysobel, “so what–”

But Chico prodded the mule so that it went frisky and sent its heels in the air, and but for Don Ruy the beast might have left the woman on the ground.

“What imp possesses you to do mischief to the dame?” he demanded–“and why laugh that she follows her husband? When you have more years you may perhaps learn what devotion may mean!”

“Never do I intend to strive for more knowledge of it than I possess at this moment!” declared Chico–“see to what straits it has led that poor girl, who, but for this matter of a man, would have been good and safe working in a convent garden. Small profit this marriage business is!”

“A selfish Jack-a-napes might you be called,” remarked Don Ruy, “and much I wonder that the woman bears patiently your quips. Give us ten more years, and we’ll see you mated and well paid for them!”

“Ten years!”–and the lad whistled,–“let me wait ten of my years and I can wait the rest of them!”

“Name of the devil!” laughed Don Ruy–“if you grow impatient for a mate, we’ll charge yon citadel and capture one for you!”

“Oh, my patience can keep step with your own will, Excellency,” retorted the lad. “I’ve no fancy for halting the expedition, or of making a winning through another man’s arms.”

“Your conceit of yourself is quite up to your inches,” observed his patron. “When you’ve had a few floutings you’ll be glad to send signals for help.”

“One flouting would be enough to my fancy–I’d straightway borrow myself a monk’s robe.”

“We all think that with the first love affair–or even the second–” volunteered Don Ruy–“but after that, philosophy grows apace, and we are willing to eat, drink–and remain mortal.”

Ysobel giggled most unseemly, and Chico stared disapproval at her.

“Why laugh since you know not anything of such philosophy, Dame Ysobel?” he asked. “It is not given many to gather experience, and philosophies such as come easily to the call of his Excellency.”

The woman hung her head at the reproof, and his Excellency lifted brows and smiled.

“You have betimes a fine lordling’s air with you,” he observed. “Why chide a woman for a smile when women are none too plentiful?”

But they had reached the place of the camp, and the secretary swung from the saddle in silence. Don Ruy watching him, decided that the Castilian grandfather must have been of rank, and the Indian grandmother at least a princess. Even in a servant who was a friend would the lad brook nothing of the familiar.

Tahn-té stood apart from the Spanish troop while camp was being made, and a well dug deeper in a ravine where once the water had rippled clear above the sand. The choice of camp had not been his. The old men and the warriors had held up hands, and the men of iron were not to see the women at Shufinne,–so it had been voted.

The lurid glow of the sky was overcast and haste was needed ere the night and perhaps the storm, came. Since it was voted that Pu-yé be the shelter, Tahn-té exacted that only the north dwellings be used–the more sacred places were not to be peered into by strange eyes!

A Te-hua guard was stationed at the ancient dwelling of the Po-Ahtun. Near there alien feet must not pass. Where the ruins of ancient walls reached from edge to edge of the mesa’s summit, there Te-hua guards would watch through the night, and signal fires on Shufinne mesa would carry the word quickly if help was needed.

A Navahu captive from Kah-po came with men of Kah-po, and was left at Pu-yé. Juan Gonzalvo stationed his own guards, having no fancy for sleep with only painted savages between his troop and danger. Ka-yemo for no stated reason lingered near, and watched the Castilians, and watched Yahn Tsyn-deh;–so sullen and strong had grown his jealousy that here in the hills–apart from the padre, he dared think what could be made happen to the little cluster of white men if the Kah-po men would join Povi-whah for battle,–and if–

Under the eyes of Padre Vicente no such thought would have dared come to him,–but he had brief wild desires to win by some stroke, a power such as Tahn-té held without question. Let the Castilian whisper “sorcerer” ever so loudly, yet the old men of Te-hua would give no heed without proofs–and who could make proofs against Tahn-té?

The words of the governor had cut deep–and Yahn who was of the Tain-tsain clan, would rage if the clan gained not credit by the war chief,–and Gonzalvo the man of iron,–would then take her to himself–and–He walked apart in rage. From the ancient dwelling of the Po-Ahtun he could hear the chanting of a war song. Tahn-té was invoking the spirits of battle–Tahn-té it was who had seen the vision of warriors and started scouts to the hills;–on every side was he reminded that Tahn-té the priest–was looked upon as Tahn-té the warrior heart!

The Castilians would go back to their own land with that word to their people, and to their king;–and he, Ka-yemo,–would have no mention unless it should be of the weeds pulled in the corn!

His heart was so sick and so angry that he could almost hear the laughter if he returned without honors:–but one man should not laugh!–He did not know how it would happen that he could have the Capitan Gonzalvo killed–but that man should not laugh with Yahn Tsyn-deh!

In his sick rage he had brooded and walked far. Along the summit of the mesa among the ruins had he walked to the east. The weird dead city of the Ancient Days was made more weird by the strange brooding heat of the dusk. No cool air of the twilight followed the setting sun this night. Sounds carried far. No fires were lit in the camp below–yet movements of the animals told him where the Castilians tethered their wonderful comrades of the trail.

At any other time he would not have walked alone on the heights where mystery touched each broken wall, and wrapped the mesa as in a strange medicine blanket. But in his impotent rage he felt spirit forces of destruction working against him, and the dread of them dulled his senses as to the place where he wandered.

And then his heart jumped with a new fear as the form of a woman arose from a crevice in the stone wall–did the ghost of the ruin wait for him there?

The figure halted uncertainly and then ran toward him with outreaching hand.

It was Yahn Tsyn-deh, and she was half laughing and half sobbing, and the barrier of anger was brushed aside as if it had never been.

“Ka-yemo!–Ka-yemo!” she whispered–“You dare be highest now;–and Tahn-té will be under your feet, Ka-yemo!”

She clasped her arms about him as she stumbled, breathless, at his feet, and his hands clutched her in fierceness.