“Warrior,” she said, addressing Ja-don, “if you would live enter not that portion of the room.”
Lu-don cast an angry glance upon her. “Silence, slave!” he cried.
“And where lies the danger?” Ja-don asked of Jane, ignoring Lu-don.
The woman pointed to the thongs. “Look,” she said, and before the high priest could prevent she had seized that which controlled the partition which shot downward separating Lu-don from the warrior and herself.
Ja-don looked inquiringly at her. “He would have tricked me neatly but for you,” he said; “kept me imprisoned there while he secreted you elsewhere in the mazes of his temple.”
“He would have done more than that,” replied Jane, as she pulled upon the other thong. “This releases the fastenings of a trapdoor in the floor beyond the partition. When you stepped on that you would have been precipitated into a pit beneath the temple. Lu-don has threatened me with this fate often. I do not know that he speaks the truth, but he says that a demon of the temple is imprisoned there — a huge GRYF.”
“There is a GRYF within the temple,” said Ja-don. “What with it and the sacrifices, the priests keep us busy supplying them with prisoners, though the victims are sometimes those for whom Lu-don has conceived hatred among our own people. He has had his eyes upon me for a long time. This would have been his chance but for you. Tell me, woman, why you warned me. Are we not all equally your jailers and your enemies?”
“None could be more horrible than Lu-don,” she replied; “and you have the appearance of a brave and honorable warrior. I could not hope, for hope has died and yet there is the possibility that among so many fighting men, even though they be of another race than mine, there is one who would accord honorable treatment to a stranger within his gates — even though she be a woman.”
Ja-don looked at her for a long minute. “Ko-tan would make you his queen,” he said. “That he told me himself and surely that were honorable treatment from one who might make you a slave.”
“Why, then, would he make me queen?” she asked.
Ja-don came closer as though in fear his words might be overheard. “He believes, although he did not tell me so in fact, that you are of the race of gods. And why not? Jad-ben-Otho is tailless, therefore it is not strange that Ko-tan should suspect that only the gods are thus. His queen is dead leaving only a single daughter. He craves a son and what more desirable than that he should found a line of rulers for Pal-ul-don descended from the gods?”
“But I am already wed,” cried Jane. “I cannot wed another. I do not want him or his throne.”
“Ko-tan is king,” replied Ja-don simply as though that explained and simplified everything.
“You will not save me then?” she asked.
“If you were in Ja-lur,” he replied, “I might protect you, even against the king.”
“What and where is Ja-lur?” she asked, grasping at any straw.
“It is the city where I rule,” he answered. “I am chief there and of all the valley beyond.”
“Where is it?” she insisted, and “is it far?”
“No,” he replied, smiling, “it is not far, but do not think of that — you could never reach it. There are too many to pursue and capture you. If you wish to know, however, it lies up the river that empties into Jad-ben-lul whose waters kiss the walls of A-lur — up the western fork it lies with water upon three sides. Impregnable city of Pal-ul-don — alone of all the cities it has never been entered by a foeman since it was built there while Jad-ben-Otho was a boy.”
“And there I would be safe?” she asked.
“Perhaps,” he replied.
Ah, dead Hope; upon what slender provocation would you seek to glow again! She sighed and shook her head, realizing the inutility of Hope — yet the tempting bait dangled before her mind’s eye — Ja-lur!
“You are wise,” commented Ja-don interpreting her sigh. “Come now, we will go to the quarters of the princess beside the Forbidden Garden. There you will remain with O-lo-a, the king’s daughter. It will be better than this prison you have occupied.”
“And Ko-tan?” she asked, a shudder passing through her slender frame.
“There are ceremonies,” explained Ja-don, “that may occupy several days before you become queen, and one of them may be difficult of arrangement.” He laughed, then.
“What?” she asked.
“Only the high priest may perform the marriage ceremony for a king,” he explained.
“Delay!” she murmured; “blessed delay!” Tenacious indeed of life is Hope even though it be reduced to cold and lifeless char — a veritable phoenix.
CHAPTER 15
“The King Is Dead!”
As they conversed Ja-don had led her down the stone stairway that leads from the upper floors of the Temple of the Gryf to the chambers and the corridors that honeycomb the rocky hills from which the temple and the palace are hewn and now they passed from one to the other through a doorway upon one side of which two priests stood guard and upon the other two warriors. The former would have halted Ja-don when they saw who it was that accompanied him for well known throughout the temple was the quarrel between king and high priest for possession of this beautiful stranger.
“Only by order of Lu-don may she pass,” said one, placing himself directly in front of Jane Clayton, barring her progress. Through the hollow eyes of the hideous mask the woman could see those of the priest beneath gleaming with the fires of fanaticism. Ja-don placed an arm about her shoulders and laid his hand upon his knife.
“She passes by order of Ko-tan, the king,” he said, “and by virtue of the fact that Ja-don, the chief, is her guide. Stand aside!”
The two warriors upon the palace side pressed forward. “We are here, gund of Ja-lur,” said one, addressing Ja-don, “to receive and obey your commands.”
The second priest now interposed. “Let them pass,” he admonished his companion. “We have received no direct commands from Lu-don to the contrary and it is a law of the temple and the palace that chiefs and priests may come and go without interference.”
“But I know Lu-don’s wishes,” insisted the other.
“He told you then that Ja-don must not pass with the stranger?”
“No — but—”
“Then let them pass, for they are three to two and will pass anyway — we have done our best.”
Grumbling, the priest stepped aside. “Lu-don will exact an accounting,” he cried angrily.
Ja-don turned upon him. “And get it when and where he will,” he snapped.
They came at last to the quarters of the Princess O-lo-a where, in the main entrance-way, loitered a small guard of palace warriors and several stalwart black eunuchs belonging to the princess, or her women. To one of the latter Ja-don relinquished his charge.
“Take her to the princess,” he commanded, “and see that she does not escape.”
Through a number of corridors and apartments lighted by stone cressets the eunuch led Lady Greystoke halting at last before a doorway concealed by hangings of JATO skin, where the guide beat with his staff upon the wall beside the door.
“O-lo-a, Princess of Pal-ul-don,” he called, “here is the stranger woman, the prisoner from the temple.”
“Bid her enter,” Jane heard a sweet voice from within command.
The eunuch drew aside the hangings and Lady Greystoke stepped within. Before her was a low-ceiled room of moderate size. In each of the four corners a kneeling figure of stone seemed to be bearing its portion of the weight of the ceiling upon its shoulders. These figures were evidently intended to represent Waz-don slaves and were not without bold artistic beauty. The ceiling itself was slightly arched to a central dome which was pierced to admit light by day, and air. Upon one side of the room were many windows, the other three walls being blank except for a doorway in each. The princess lay upon a pile of furs which were arranged over a low stone dais in one corner of the apartment and was alone except for a single Waz-don sl
ave girl who sat upon the edge of the dais near her feet.
As Jane entered O-lo-a beckoned her to approach and when she stood beside the couch the girl half rose upon an elbow and surveyed her critically.
“How beautiful you are,” she said simply.
Jane smiled, sadly; for she had found that beauty may be a curse.
“That is indeed a compliment,” she replied quickly, “from one so radiant as the Princess O-lo-a.”
“Ah!” exclaimed the princess delightedly; “you speak my language! I was told that you were of another race and from some far land of which we of Pal-ul-don have never heard.”
“Lu-don saw to it that the priests instructed me,” explained Jane; “but I am from a far country, Princess; one to which I long to return — and I am very unhappy.”
“But Ko-tan, my father, would make you his queen,” cried the girl; “that should make you very happy.”
“But it does not,” replied the prisoner; “I love another to whom I am already wed. Ah, Princess, if you had known what it was to love and to be forced into marriage with another you would sympathize with me.”
The Princess O-lo-a was silent for a long moment. “I know,” she said at last, “and I am very sorry for you; but if the king’s daughter cannot save herself from such a fate who may save a slave woman? for such in fact you are.”
The drinking in the great banquet hall of the palace of Ko-tan, king of Pal-ul-don had commenced earlier this night than was usual, for the king was celebrating the morrow’s betrothal of his only daughter to Bu-lot, son of Mo-sar, the chief, whose great-grandfather had been king of Pal-ul-don and who thought that he should be king, and Mo-sar was drunk and so was Bu-lot, his son. For that matter nearly all of the warriors, including the king himself, were drunk. In the heart of Ko-tan was no love either for Mo-sar, or Bu-lot, nor did either of these love the king. Ko-tan was giving his daughter to Bu-lot in the hope that the alliance would prevent Mo-sar from insisting upon his claims to the throne, for, next to Ja-don, Mo-sar was the most powerful of the chiefs and while Ko-tan looked with fear upon Ja-don, too, he had no fear that the old Lion-man would attempt to seize the throne, though which way he would throw his influence and his warriors in the event that Mo-sar declare war upon Ko-tan, the king could not guess.
Primitive people who are also warlike are seldom inclined toward either tact or diplomacy even when sober; but drunk they know not the words, if aroused. It was really Bu-lot who started it.
“This,” he said, “I drink to O-lo-a,” and he emptied his tankard at a single gulp. “And this,” seizing a full one from a neighbor, “to her son and mine who will bring back the throne of Pal-ul-don to its rightful owners!”
“The king is not yet dead!” cried Ko-tan, rising to his feet; “nor is Bu-lot yet married to his daughter — and there is yet time to save Pal-ul-don from the spawn of the rabbit breed.”
The king’s angry tone and his insulting reference to Bu-lot’s well-known cowardice brought a sudden, sobering silence upon the roistering company. Every eye turned upon Bu-lot and Mo-sar, who sat together directly opposite the king. The first was very drunk though suddenly he seemed quite sober. He was so drunk that for an instant he forgot to be a coward, since his reasoning powers were so effectually paralyzed by the fumes of liquor that he could not intelligently weigh the consequences of his acts. It is reasonably conceivable that a drunk and angry rabbit might commit a rash deed. Upon no other hypothesis is the thing that Bu-lot now did explicable. He rose suddenly from the seat to which he had sunk after delivering his toast and seizing the knife from the sheath of the warrior upon his right hurled it with terrific force at Ko-tan. Skilled in the art of throwing both their knives and their clubs are the warriors of Pal-ul-don and at this short distance and coming as it did without warning there was no defense and but one possible result — Ko-tan, the king, lunged forward across the table, the blade buried in his heart.
A brief silence followed the assassin’s cowardly act. White with terror, now, Bu-lot fell slowly back toward the doorway at his rear, when suddenly angry warriors leaped with drawn knives to prevent his escape and to avenge their king. But Mo-sar now took his stand beside his son.
“Ko-tan is dead!” he cried. “Mo-sar is king! Let the loyal warriors of Pal-ul-don protect their ruler!”
Mo-sar commanded a goodly following and these quickly surrounded him and Bu-lot, but there were many knives against them and now Ja-don pressed forward through those who confronted the pretender.
“Take them both!” he shouted. “The warriors of Pal-ul-don will choose their own king after the assassin of Ko-tan has paid the penalty of his treachery.”
Directed now by a leader whom they both respected and admired those who had been loyal to Ko-tan rushed forward upon the faction that had surrounded Mo-sar. Fierce and terrible was the fighting, devoid, apparently, of all else than the ferocious lust to kill and while it was at its height Mo-sar and Bu-lot slipped unnoticed from the banquet hall.
To that part of the palace assigned to them during their visit to A-lur they hastened. Here were their servants and the lesser warriors of their party who had not been bidden to the feast of Ko-tan. These were directed quickly to gather together their belongings for immediate departure. When all was ready, and it did not take long, since the warriors of Pal-ul-don require but little impedimenta on the march, they moved toward the palace gate.
Suddenly Mo-sar approached his son. “The princess,” he whispered. “We must not leave the city without her — she is half the battle for the throne.”
Bu-lot, now entirely sober, demurred. He had had enough of fighting and of risk. “Let us get out of A-lur quickly,” he urged, “or we shall have the whole city upon us. She would not come without a struggle and that would delay us too long.”
“There is plenty of time,” insisted Mo-sar. “They are still fighting in the pal-e-don-so. It will be long before they miss us and, with Ko-tan dead, long before any will think to look to the safety of the princess. Our time is now — it was made for us by Jad-ben-Otho. Come!”
Reluctantly Bu-lot followed his father, who first instructed the warriors to await them just inside the gateway of the palace. Rapidly the two approached the quarters of the princess. Within the entrance-way only a handful of warriors were on guard. The eunuchs had retired.
“There is fighting in the pal-e-don-so,” Mo-sar announced in feigned excitement as they entered the presence of the guards. “The king desires you to come at once and has sent us to guard the apartments of the princess. Make haste!” he commanded as the men hesitated.
The warriors knew him and that on the morrow the princess was to be betrothed to Bu-lot, his son. If there was trouble what more natural than that Mo-sar and Bu-lot should be intrusted with the safety of the princess. And then, too, was not Mo-sar a powerful chief to whose orders disobedience might prove a dangerous thing? They were but common fighting men disciplined in the rough school of tribal warfare, but they had learned to obey a superior and so they departed for the banquet hall — the place-where-men-eat.
Barely waiting until they had disappeared Mo-sar crossed to the hangings at the opposite end of the entrance-hall and followed by Bu-lot made his way toward the sleeping apartment of O-lo-a and a moment later, without warning, the two men burst in upon the three occupants of the room. At sight of them O-lo-a sprang to her feet.
“What is the meaning of this?” she demanded angrily.
Mo-sar advanced and halted before her. Into his cunning mind had entered a plan to trick her. If it succeeded it would prove easier than taking her by force, and then his eyes fell upon Jane Clayton and he almost gasped in astonishment and admiration, but he caught himself and returned to the business of the moment.
“O-lo-a,” he cried, “when you know the urgency of our mission you will forgive us. We have sad news for you. There has been an uprising in the palace and Ko-tan, the king, has been slain. The rebels are drunk with liquor and now on their way here. We m
ust get you out of A-lur at once — there is not a moment to lose. Come, and quickly!”
“My father dead?” cried O-lo-a, and suddenly her eyes went wide. “Then my place is here with my people,” she cried. “If Ko-tan is dead I am queen until the warriors choose a new ruler — that is the law of Pal-ul-don. And if I am queen none can make me wed whom I do not wish to wed — and Jad-ben-Otho knows I never wished to wed thy cowardly son. Go!” She pointed a slim forefinger imperiously toward the doorway.
Mo-sar saw that neither trickery nor persuasion would avail now and every precious minute counted. He looked again at the beautiful woman who stood beside O-lo-a. He had never before seen her but he well knew from palace gossip that she could be no other than the godlike stranger whom Ko-tan had planned to make his queen.
“Bu-lot,” he cried to his son, “take you your own woman and I will take — mine!” and with that he sprang suddenly forward and seizing Jane about the waist lifted her in his arms, so that before O-lo-a or Pan-at-lee might even guess his purpose he had disappeared through the hangings near the foot of the dais and was gone with the stranger woman struggling and fighting in his grasp.
And then Bu-lot sought to seize O-lo-a, but O-lo-a had her Pan-at-lee — fierce little tiger-girl of the savage Kor-ul-JA — Pan-at-lee whose name belied her — and Bu-lot found that with the two of them his hands were full. When he would have lifted O-lo-a and borne her away Pan-at-lee seized him around the legs and strove to drag him down. Viciously he kicked her, but she would not desist, and finally, realizing that he might not only lose his princess but be so delayed as to invite capture if he did not rid himself of this clawing, scratching she-JATO, he hurled O-lo-a to the floor and seizing Pan-at-lee by the hair drew his knife and —
The curtains behind him suddenly parted. In two swift bounds a lithe figure crossed the room and before ever the knife of Bu-lot reached its goal his wrist was seized from behind and a terrific blow crashing to the base of his brain dropped him, lifeless, to the floor. Bu-lot, coward, traitor, and assassin, died without knowing who struck him down.
Delphi Collected Works of Edgar Rice Burroughs (Illustrated) (Series Four Book 26) Page 190
