'Can you let us down slightly? I think we're stuck.'
Something lightly touched his head and he shuddered, recalling, for some reason, the giant spider in the forest. Then he realised it was a belt buckle.
'About five feet,' reported the Professor, pulling it out.
Wilfred considered his options. He might perhaps be able to climb over Daphne and up the rope, leaving space to pull her after him, but could she be induced to hang on without him? He was sweating so much he could scarcely grip the rope himself as the desperation of their situation came home to him. Pressed tightly against him, Daphne was quietly sobbing, though to her credit she had kept her head.
Suddenly the twittering beneath them became much louder. He heard angry shouting and Veleema screamed his name, a cry so terrible in its pain and despair that it would never leave him. The ray pistol now flashed again and again, a relentless storm of blue, flickering light that starkly illuminated the impossibly constricted space above them, too small ever to allow them to pass through.
'Uncle, rest it!' cried Wilfred. 'For pity's sake rest the gun!'
There was a metallic clatter that he knew could only be from the red-hot weapon as Freddy hurled it away, followed by a deafening explosion that sent a great shock wave upwards, almost driving the air from his lungs. Then, with a mighty roar, chunks of masonry large and small began to rain down around them, and freed from the restriction of the narrow chimney they found themselves suddenly shooting upwards. Frantic hands seized and dragged them from the hole and then the vault itself, as its floor began to break up and tumble into the abyss, followed by its supporting columns, its ceiling and whatever lay above.
Afterwards Wilfred was to have little recollection of the struggle to the surface or how many of their rescuers were lost. Half-blinded by dust, he was dimly aware of Daphne in Veldo's arms, of the Professor clinging to him, and then they were under the sky. The rain had stopped and the great central court of the palace was packed shoulder to shoulder with many hundreds of chanting thaalid. Nearby they were using a log as a battering ram, trying to break down the towering wood and bronze doors of the throne room, and he guessed the Queen and her entourage had taken refuge there.
Set down gently by the Captain of Ships, Daphne surveyed for a moment the scene before her. Then baring her midriff she stood quiet and erect until first one nearby thaal and then another noticed her. A great cry went up, and soon every one of them was prostrated before her, a sea of grey, velvety bodies, ecstatically worshipping their goddess.
Picking her way among them, Daphne arrived at the doors just as they yielded at last to the crash of the battering ram. She turned and gestured to her flock that they should remain where they were before entering alone. In a kind of trance, Wilfred followed.
On her throne, as if she had never left it, sat the Queen, accompanied by the Yellow Migraani, her tuun, and a few elderly courtiers. Nigluundo was there, in bronze breastplate and greaves, and with him a handful of Purple-clad ishtaarid, one or two armed with the larger sort of ray-gun.
If the Queen-Goddess was surprised to see her miraculously escaped nemesis she gave no sign of it. Smiling, she took a sweetmeat from the inevitable dish by her side and began to nibble on it. 'You really are terribly skinny you know,' she said conversationally. 'We would offer you one of these – they're particularly nice – but it seems rather a waste.' She turned to the nearest soldier. 'Kill her.'
The man raised his weapon, hesitated, then shook his head.
'You shall pay for that,' snarled Nigluundo, and snatched the gun from his hands. But in an instant the Yellow Migraani was behind him, a blade briefly glinted and the Queen's Ishtan fell to the ground, his throat cut from ear to ear.
Only now did the false Goddess attempt to flee. But waddling unsteadily a few paces she slipped on the blood of her stricken general and tumbled off the edge of the dais to lie helpless as a stranded beetle. Stepping around her, Daphne took her place on the throne, and no longer able to contain their excitement, the waiting thaalid surged joyously forward.
'Where is Agnes?' she asked.
'Here, Miss Daphne.'
'You will translate.' And silence fell as she spoke the traditional words. 'We are Chopminta Haalijsu, eternal Voorni and Queen-Goddess of Venus. Those who worship and obey us shall be loved as our children; those who do not, shall die.' She waited until Agnes had said the same thing in Popti, then casually gestured towards her fallen rival. 'Take her to the tree.'
At this, the Yellow Tuun and some of the courtiers were heard to gasp, and one was moved to utter a protest. But a half-dozen thaalid eagerly scooped up the deposed monarch as if she weighed nothing and bore her shrieking from the room.
At the edge of the rubble-filled hole where once had been the great central tower of the palace, Wilfred found Veldo and Soldo Pu. Others stood and knelt in silent vigil, many in tears. With a small shock he was reminded that while he had lost the two people most dear to him, they and perhaps a million citizens of Eriju had lost their beloved Migraani.
Veldo greeted him respectfully.
'Your uncle was a great man,' he said. 'He died like a soldier.'
Wilfred thanked him and turned to go. His grief was too new to share with others.
Among the hideous bundles in the grove of jalaapa trees, the correct one was not hard to find. The branch on which it sat bent downwards almost to the water, and the dark enfolding leaves struggled to contain the great bulk within, so that patches of bubbling and bloodied flesh could still be seen. Occasionally, with a small whimper, it stirred.
A dozen or so thaalid stood around, laughing and chatting as they leaned upon their spear-paddles, and Wilfred was surprised to discover that one of them was Heft. He'd always considered him one of the more civilised of his warriors, but here he was, clearly enjoying the spectacle. Suddenly it was rather hard to imagine him wielding a cricket bat.
'Popanu haftop,' commanded Wilfred
'Pipati?'
The mystified thaal handed over his spear, and Wilfred carefully weighed it in his hand, searching for its point of balance. Then with all his might he drove it into what he hoped was the false queen's black heart.
Chapter 27
Daphne stood on the landing ramp, flanked, as always, by two fierce-looking ishtaarid. In her arms lay a sleeping infant.
'I'm going to divorce you,' she said.
'I see. Anyone else in mind?'
'Tuuntu Haramu. He's not likely to bother me much and it'll stop his tiresome mother from making mischief. Where have you been? You might have told me before you wandered off.'
'Kidnapping Hawghi,' said Wilfred. 'Shall I take her now? I might as well.'
But Daphne stepped smartly away from his outstretched arms. 'You're still loading,' she said.
'We'll only be an hour or two. Nista can look after her if you want to leave.'
'I'll wait.'
'Very well, I'll see you later. I've things to do.'
Hurrying back to his work, Wilfred permitted himself a wry chuckle. The cunning little beggar! He'd played the fool to perfection, all the while pursuing, with courage, skill and tenacity, the ultimate prize. Many might have settled for Bunty, but he had wanted Daphne, true bearer of the Holy Mark, and had risked everything to save her, keeping his head while all around were losing theirs. He had, of course, used the Earthlings shamelessly, but they nevertheless owed him their lives. He had more than earned the tantuun's throne.
And, by George, he was welcome to it!
Looking very small in the shadow of the Purple flagship stood the long-lost twin of Bunty's little craft. They could not know when they found it that they had stumbled upon Loris Loriji's private retreat, but he had willingly given it up, and for many months they had worked to disentangle it from its jungle resting place, never with any certainty that it would fly again. But here it was restored, if not to perfection then at least serviceable and airtight, humming gently to itself as it waited to take them home.
'Have you got her?' asked Soldo Pu.
'Not yet. I think she wants me to sweat a little.'
'You must not be concerned,' said Hawghi. 'She knows she must give her up.' He was half under an instrument panel with only his legs showing. 'Do you see the wire yet Veldo?'
'Yes, I have it.'
Simms was nailing up a large crate. 'Look at this lot. Nothing but bones and bits of old pots. At this rate there'll be no room for the rest of us.'
'Oh I'm sure we'll manage. It's only for four or five days after all.
'Ah, here you are,' said the Professor, bustling in. 'I know you gentlemen are busy but we'd like you to indulge us with a few moments of your time. We've found something very exciting. You won't regret it, I promise you.'
'Will it take long?' asked Wilfred. 'Only I'd rather not keep Daphne waiting.'
The Professor looked startled. 'Is she here already? I had no idea.'
'But you just walked past her ship!'
'Ah, so I did. How foolish of me. Perhaps she'd like to come too? It really is a most remarkable find.'
'I shouldn't think so,' grinned Wilfred. 'Come on Albert, you look as though you could do with a break.'
The archaeological excavations now extended many yards from the tower into a swampy natural hollow. In it stood Loris, guarding, as if on sentry duty, a tarpaulin-covered hole.
'Goodness, you have been busy,' said Wilfred. 'What have you found?'
'All in good time,' promised the Professor. 'I will only say that here, wonderfully preserved, is the key to the riddle that is Venus. But first, permit me to set the scene a little.
'What we have learned, or think we have learned, is that there is no need to invoke the ancient cataclysm of legend, for there never was a great Venusian civilisation to destroy. Nor, to my mind, do we see one now. There are no centres of learning that I can discover – although there may be other gifted individuals like Loris – and while they have art and literature in a small way, there is no home-grown science or technology of any kind, apart from the simple ingenuity of the thaalid. They are the most intellectually incurious race one can well imagine, seeming to live only for the earthier pleasures of life. It is like our Dark Ages, but without even the monasteries to keep the flame of learning alive. Indeed, they scarcely seem to understand what they lack.'
Wilfred smiled at this tactless but largely accurate indictment of the people he'd so nearly made his own. 'But how, then, did they acquire space flight?' he asked.
'We believe at second hand. We think it likely that the tower, the ships and the weaponry were made by a highly advanced but now vanished race, quite unrelated to the present population. Loris's wonderful discovery strongly suggests that they were not even human, and since there is no evidence that they were ever indigenous to Venus they almost certainly came from elsewhere. It now appears that the alto relievo sculptures in the dome do not depict some fanciful equivalent of the ancient Greek Moirai, as we at first supposed, but real, living beings.
'But if not Venus, where did they come from, My Lord?' asked Simms.
'Ah, that we do not know.'
'If they were so advanced, mightn't it be they who destroyed the Venusian civilisation?' suggested Wilfred.
'We cannot rule out that possibility,' admitted the Professor. 'But where are the ruins? If our Earth were to be invaded and conquered tomorrow, can you imagine all the works of Man disappearing in just a couple of millennia? And consider the Venusians themselves. They are scarcely more suited to life on this planet than we Earthlings, and without the thaalid to serve and protect them they might even now perish. Moreover, you, Wilfred, have perfectly demonstrated that we are one and the same species; at least as it is normally defined.'
'Because we can interbreed?'
'Exactly. It therefore seems reasonable to suppose that the human Venusians originated on Earth. And since they can hardly have brought themselves here, they must have come with the builders of the tower, probably as slaves.'
'Do you mean to say they came to Earth and took away hundreds or even thousands of people against their will?' said Wilfred. 'Wouldn't someone have noticed?'
'Perhaps they did, although the numbers may not have been so great. I suspect the abductions, if that is what they were, occurred in very ancient times and have long since been forgotten. Their language bears no obvious relation to any that I am familiar with, and it can hardly have altered very much in just two thousand years, even under the clear influence of Popti and its variants. That in its turn would imply that between leaving Earth and arriving here they must have spent a good many years somewhere else entirely, perhaps subject to other linguistic influences. It is all quite fascinating.'
'But we can't even build spaceships and ray guns now, let alone thousands of years ago,' protested Simms. 'Humans are supposed to be at the peak of creation aren't they? How can that be?'
The professor laughed. 'Why Albert, it would surely reflect rather poorly on the Almighty's abilities if we were the best he could manage.'
'The thaalid are as bright we are,' Wilfred pointed out. 'Some of them anyway. We aren't unique in that regard.'
'Yes, but not brighter. Anyway, the thaalid are all right.'
'Well, it should comfort to you to know that they weren't clever enough to avoid extinction,' said the Professor. 'As to their fate – the fate of the Fates, as you might say – that is a matter of conjecture. They may have fallen victim to disease in the Wellsian manner, or to the climate, or even to the thaalid. But the very particular kind of destruction we find here suggests to us that soon after they arrived, their unfortunate human slaves may have seized their chance to rise up and kill their masters, wreaking vengeance on their images. Whatever happened, it seems likely that most of the humans perished as well. We know from our own experience how difficult it is to live off the land here, and it would not be unreasonable to believe that the present population really is descended from the legendary first Voorni and her party, the others having simply starved to death. Although I should add that Loris takes the view that his own people survived quite separately here at Torris Verga, and there is some evidence for that.'
Wilfred nodded thoughtfully. It was a fascinating theory and certainly seemed to fit the facts, including the existence of the giant ruined ships. Perhaps they had never been intended to take off again, but were built only to bring great numbers of people from another world.
'But wait a minute,' he said, 'what about the Hakiid? They look different enough to be another race entirely, and have developed a technology of sorts.'
'Yes, they are something of an enigma admittedly, although they still appear human. It would be interesting to examine one of them more closely. However, let us introduce you to our deceased friend. We have unearthed a number of bones and partial skeletons, but this fellow is rather special.'
'You've found a Fate?'
'We believe we have. It is very wet here in this hollow and it is probably the peaty nature of the soil that has preserved the body, just as some bogs do on earth. I expect he will soon deteriorate now that we have uncovered him, but that cannot be helped. He is not very pretty, I'm afraid.'
The grave was quite a deep one, and lying half-awash at the bottom was a contorted mass that might easily have been a jumble of roots or some scraps of old leather. But as Wilfred stared at the unappetizing object, it gradually resolved into something altogether more familiar, and suddenly he shuddered, plunged again into that dark place from which he would never be quite free.
'Do you see the resemblance?' Asked the Professor. 'That oddly flat face, with its circular mouth and near-vestigial eyes, and, you will observe, no projecting nose, just like the bronzes on the ships, and even the faces of the tzinid.'
'Is it not amazing?' added Loris excitedly. 'Here, perfectly preserved, is a being that has not lived in this world for hundreds or even thousands of ye
ars!'
'It's a good deal more recently than that,' said Wilfred.
The entire population of Torris Verga had turned out to see them off, waving and hurling into the air their ceremonial tijtfuaarid as the little ship rose and circled the crater in a last farewell. There had been tears shed on both sides, for they were leaving behind many good friends. As they passed the great tower, there suddenly broke from it a red, white and blue flag, fluttering in the light afternoon breeze.
'Why it's the Union Jack!' cried Wilfred. 'How on earth did you manage that?'
'We thought you would be surprised,' chuckled the Professor. 'It was Loris's idea.'
Such was the vessel's speed that only moments later they were hovering over another great crowd, this time of Dameefuan thaalijd, hundreds of whom had gathered at Vanapop to bid them a last farewell. Agnes was not there. Tenderly nursed in her dying days by her beloved Hawghi, she had at last succumbed to her dreadful injuries, her mortal remains committed, as tradition required, to the jalaapa.
Now the much-travelled thaal was once again their navigator, his long ears alert and twitching, as they soared upwards into the dense, enveloping cloud. With him at the con sat Soldo Pu, and behind them, cramped among the boxes and bales for which no other space could be found, were the Professor, Wilfred, Veldo, Albert Simms and his young wife Nista, the latter dandling an increasingly fractious Princess Veleema.
Twice they circled the planet while Hawghi came aft to adjust the armagijt, the miraculous instrument that would guide them home.
'What tales I shall have for Maudy,' said the Professor. 'But how I dread to tell her about poor Freddy.'
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