Brokenclaw

19

CHALLENGE BY TORTURE

‘You see, when men and women from many different Indian nations sought permission to come and live here, adhering to the old ways, there were many things we had to decide as a community.’ Brokenclaw still maintained that perfectly composed manner, his voice never once indicating emotion.

They sat on skins in his teepee, with a young Indian woman serving them with a kind of stew made from rabbit, wild onions and other root vegetables. They ate with spoons, from bowls, both fashioned from wood.

‘It was necessary for us to have a mutual understanding regarding things like our religious beliefs, and the ways in which we chose our leaders. We had to agree on ritual and etiquette,’ Brokenclaw continued. ‘One of the terrible things the white man has done to those I regard as my people, is to introduce a different way of life – a way alien to our forefathers and a way which has brought great degradation on the proud Indian nations. You see it on the reservations, you see it in disease and the horrors of alcohol. This was one of the reasons I was a prime mover in bringing strong people from various tribes together.’

‘I understand that.’ Bond tried to remain calm in the presence of this man who sat patient, soft-spoken and reasonable. It was difficult, for he knew that here was evil personified, a monster who claimed two sets of ancestors, two traditions and could slip between them like someone inflicted with a multiple personality. He was a man who had held together the San Francisco underworld and ruled through brutality and fear. Listening to him talk, it was difficult to accept the truth about this appalling aberration locked within a human body.

‘Among the most important of our rituals, we agreed, was the appeasement of the spirits, particularly the spirits of earth, fire and the water which once covered the entire earth. You can understand this, Captain Bond?’

He nodded. Inside, his stomach churned as he waited for Brokenclaw Lee to come out with the real object of this little lecture.

‘Just as Christian peoples have their ceremonies which speak of death and rebirth – the rituals of Spring, the Easter rituals – so we had to look back to the old ways and resurrect our rites of appeasement, so that the spirits would not forsake us, so that we would live to see the crops ripen and be blessed with good hunting.

‘One such ritual which emanates from the Mandan Indians, the Plains People, is that of o-kee-pa. This is a long ceremonial period, in which there are spirit dances and sacrifice. Part of the ancient o-kee-pa rites concern the choice of future leaders.’ He paused as though waiting for Bond to show comprehension.

Brokenclaw maintained that the o-kee-pa, when first discovered by the white man, had offended. ‘They considered parts of it so brutal and degrading that when an explorer from your own country, Captain Bond, took back evidence of the ceremonies, the Victorian British maintained that the poor wretched explorer’s mind was filled with bizarre and morbid fantasies. That was rich coming from the Victorians who exploited their workers, and who brutalised the poor, don’t you think?’

Bond merely nodded.

‘We decided that part of the o-kee-pa was ideal for choosing future leaders from among our people here. The torture ritual had long been used to weed out the strong from the weak. So, some twelve years ago, we performed the ceremony again. Out of eight men, only two of us passed the test, and I have scars to prove it to you. See!’

He rose, stripping off his buckskin jerkin to display his back. Below the shoulder blades there were long, thick ugly scars. ‘There are two more.’ He rolled up the loose trousers to show that there were jagged, rough scars on both of his calves as though a bullet had passed through the flesh and exploded, leaving torn and ragged wounds.

‘You tell me that you will fight me on my own terms, then these are my terms. I shall explain.’

Bond listened with mounting horror, knowing that this man had already been through this vile and obscene test and won.

‘Those who would seek to be leaders were first taken to the Sacred Lodge and there smooth, strong pegs were driven through their flesh, one on each side of the back, below the shoulder blades and another two deeply through each calf. To these skewers, rawhide ropes were attached. At the end of the ropes leading from the calves, buffalo skulls were tied as weights, then they were suspended from the ropes tied to the skewers in their backs.

‘There are intricate, special chants which are sung during this phase,’ Brokenclaw continued. ‘The pain is intense, but you must remain conscious. If a man loses consciousness, then he is cut down and must drag himself to the Medicine Man, who will chop off one or two of his fingers.’ He played his own hands, one palm forward, the other twisted so only the back showed. ‘As you see, I have all my fingers intact. There are six men in this village who are without fingers.’ The smile was of intense pleasure melded with evil.

Those who sought leadership, he said, were required to hang through the length of the chant. ‘In modern time that is about twenty minutes. Then we are lowered to the Lodge floor and the pegs are removed from our backs, but not from our legs, for the next phase is a race. The course is prescribed, around the village, and the buffalo skulls remain in place. This means that participants are hampered by the weight and sometimes have to be assisted around the course. Inevitably, the buffalo skulls drag the pegs from the calves which causes more pain but allows you to run faster. That, James Bond, is the torture rite of o-kee-pa. It is also my offer of a single test, one on one, though there must be a final decision in the unlikely event of us both completing the ceremony. So far, do you accept my terms?’

He had expected some form of hand-to-hand combat with a choice of primitive weapons, or at least a match against Brokenclaw with no weapons. The last thing Bond had expected was this savage test of torture. But he had no option. He had placed himself in this situation, so he had to abide by it, even if it meant mutilation.

‘What is the final test?’ he asked.

‘The course we will construct,’ Brokenclaw spoke very softly now, ‘will bring us to two separate finishing points. We would each have to run the same distance, but we will end up some fifty yards apart. At the finishing mark there will be one bow and one arrow. If we both complete the course, then we must finish the matter. One shaft against one shaft. The first to reach his mark may shoot, and I should warn you that I am quite extraordinarily accurate with the bow.’

Bond took a deep breath. ‘I will offer myself to this torture ritual on three conditions . . .’

‘Ha, you require conditions . . .’

‘They are perfectly reasonable . . .’

‘Tell me.’

‘First, I must have your word, spoken before the assembled braves and Medicine Man of this village that, should I win this test, I will be allowed to leave in peace with the girl.’

‘Agreed, of course.’

‘I must examine the bows and the arrows and have the word of your Medicine Man that neither will be tampered with before we end the test.’

‘You have my word . . .’

‘Your word is not enough, Brokenclaw. I require the word of your Medicine Man.’

Brokenclaw gave a curt nod. ‘Your third condition?’

‘This covers two parts. First that I am allowed to see the girl and know that she is safe and well . . .’

‘Of course she’s safe and well . . .’

‘Good. I must see. I must also have a solemn oath that no harm will come to her during the test.

‘She will be free to go, naturally. But I fear, Captain Bond, that, while you might just have the courage and stamina to reach the end of the course, you can never beat me with the bow.’

‘We shall see.’

‘Then you accept the challenge?’

Bond did not hesitate. ‘I accept the challenge, for you deserve to die, Brokenclaw Lee, and I fear that, though the authorities will eventually catch up with you, they will only imprison you. Prison is too easy. Your way is good. It is a test of manhood, leadership and courage. You merit death.’

Chi-Chi was terrified. She did not have to tell Bond for it showed in her eyes and her whole demeanour. She looked more fragile than ever, he thought, as he told her that all would be fine.

‘I just want to get out of here, James. I want things to be as they were when you went out for the wine.’

‘The wine’ll keep. It’s a good year.’

‘Yes, but . . .’

‘I’m negotiating.’ He was not going to tell her how or make her even more frightened. As he left the women’s teepee, where she was being held, his one thought was that he had to survive; he had to win. Chi-Chi had become too precious for him even to think of losing.

With Brokenclaw, he met Bear’s Head, the village Medicine Man and some of the senior braves. Using sign language, and watching his adversary closely, he felt confident that Brokenclaw was sticking to his side of the bargain. But there was still the nagging thought in the back of his mind that should he be close to losing the contest, Brokenclaw might have arranged some kind of backup. The one person Bond did not trust among the other senior braves was a short whippet of an Indian called Even Both Ways. To Bond, he looked to be the kind of Indian who had seen a lot of the world outside the reservations and this particular village. He also appeared particularly attached to Brokenclaw.

They were led around the running course. From the Sacred Lodge, Brokenclaw had to run to the left and Bond to the right. They would cover the entire length of the village, running behind the teepees until they were on the far side of Brokenclaw’s own tent where their final goals were marked by white stones set roughly fifty yards apart. Here, one of the Medicine Man’s assistants set down the two bows and their accompanying arrows.

Both bows were strong and almost identical, fashioned from good ash backed by animal sinew. The taut strings were also, in Bond’s judgment, made from the sinew of animals, and the arrows were firm, straight and iron-tipped, their flights made from large bird feathers.

As much as he would have liked to try his own bowmanship, Bond knew that this would only be taken as a sign of weakness and uncertainty. Half the battle, he had decided, was to show no fear and display only great confidence in the outcome. To this end he now asked if he might be left alone for half-an-hour. He consented to sit in full sight of everyone, but, he indicated to the Medicine Man, he wished to talk to his gods.

By this time he had taken to passing messages to Brokenclaw through the dignified, sinister man clad in garish skins and hung about with charms, face covered in a white mixture and his hair plastered to his scalp with some sticky red-coloured daub. Once he had accepted the challenge, Bond felt it was more impressive to ignore his opponent than appear friendly.

His request was granted, and he moved a little way up the bowl of earth surrounding the village, finally finding a small ledge on which he squatted in the lotus position and closed his eyes. This was the only way he could face what was to come, to will himself into a mental and physical state which would guarantee his winning.

First he settled his mind on his enemy. Brokenclaw had gone through this ordeal before, but that was some twelve years ago. In the time that had passed, the man had almost certainly lost some of his stamina. Yes, he appeared fit but Bond judged him as being a little overweight, certainly heavier than he had been a dozen years ago. It was possible that the strain would now be too much for Brokenclaw Lee.

His own position was different. He was strong and fit. He knew it and drew consolation from it. The pain would, undoubtedly, be a shock to his system, but he now had to distance his mind from pain. It was a trick already learned. Pain could be borne. Pain did not kill, it merely blunted the other senses. Bond focused on keeping his other senses withdrawn from the physical pain, and this was the most important facet of being psychologically prepared for what was to come.

Finally, with his mind distanced from his physical being, Bond rose and walked down to the braves waiting around the Sacred Lodge, ready for the last challenge, the o-kee-pa.