In that brief instant there was pictured upon the screen of his memory a tree-girt athletic field. He saw young men in shirts and shorts throwing javelins. He saw himself among them. It was his turn now. His arm went back. He recalled how he had put every ounce of muscle, weight, and science into that throw. He recalled the friendly congratulations that followed it, for every one knew without waiting for the official verdict that he had broken a world’s record.
Again his arm flew back. today there was more at stake than a world’s record, but the man did not lose his nerve. Timed to the fraction of an instant, backed by the last ounce of his weight and his skill and his great strength, the spear met the tiger in mid-leap; full in the chest it struck him. King leaped to one side and ran for a tree, his single, frail hope lying in the possibility that the great beast might be even momentarily disabled.
He did not waste the energy or the time even to glance behind him. If the tiger were able to overtake him, it must be totally a matter of indifference to King whether the great brute seized him from behind or in front — he had led his ace and he did not have another.
No fangs or talons rent his flesh as King scrambled to the safety of the nearest tree. It was not without a sense of considerable surprise that he found himself safely ensconced in his leafy sanctuary, for from the instant that the tiger had turned upon him in its venomous charge he had counted himself already as good as dead.
Now that he had an opportunity to look about him, he saw the tiger struggling in its death throes upon the very spot where it had anticipated wreaking its vengeance upon the rash man-thing that had dared to question its right to the possession of its intended prey; and a little to the right of the dying beast the American saw the girl crouching in the branches of a tree. Together they watched the death throes of the great cat; and when at last the man was convinced that the beast was dead, he leaped lightly to the ground and approached the tree among the branches of which the girl had sought safety.
That she was still filled with terror was apparent in the strained and frightened expression upon her face. “Go away!” she cried. “The soldiers of Lodivarman, the King, are here; and if you harm me they will kill you.”
King smiled. “You are inconsistent,” he said, “in invoking the protection of the soldiers from whom you are trying to escape; but you need not fear me. I shall not harm you.”
“Who are you?” she demanded.
“I am a hunter who dwells in the jungle,” replied King. “I am the protector of high priests and weeping queens, or so, at least, I seem to be.”
“High priests? Weeping queens? What do you mean?”
“I have saved Vay Thon, the high priest, from My Lord the Tiger,” replied King; “and now I have saved you.”
“But I am no queen and I am not weeping,” replied the girl.
“Do not disillusion me,” insisted King. “I contend that you are a queen, whether you weep or smile. I should not be surprised to learn that you are the queen of the Nagas. Nothing would surprise me in this jungle of anachronism, hallucination, and impossibility.”
“Help me down from the tree,” said the girl. “Perhaps you are mad, but you seem quite harmless.”
“Be assured, your majesty, that I shall not harm you,” replied King, “for presently I am sure there will emerge from nowhere ten thousand elephants and a hundred thousand warriors in shining brass to succor and defend you. Nothing seems impossible after what I have witnessed; but come, let me touch you; let me assure myself that I am not again the victim of a pernicious fever.”
“May Siva, who protected me from My Lord the Tiger a moment ago, protect me also from this madman!”
“Pardon me,” said King. “I did not catch what you said.”
“I am afraid,” said the girl.
“You need not be afraid of me,” King assured her; “and if you want your soldiers I believe that I can find them for you; but if I am not mistaken, I believe that you are more afraid of them than you are of me.”
“What do you know of that?” demanded she.
“I overheard their conversation while they halted near me,” replied the American, “and I learned that they are hunting for you to take you back to someone from whom you escaped. Come, I will help you down. You may trust me.”
He raised his hands toward her, and after a moment’s hesitation she slipped into his arms and he lowered her to the ground.
“I must trust you,” she said. “There is no other way, for I could not remain for ever in the tree; and then, too, even though you seem mad there is something about you that makes me feel that I am safe with you.”
As he felt her soft, lithe body momentarily in his arms, King knew that this was no tenuous spirit of a dream. For an instant her small hand touched his shoulder, her warm breath fanned his cheek, and her firm, young breasts were pressed against his naked body. Then she stepped back and surveyed him.
“What manner of man are you?” she demanded. “You are neither Khmer nor slave. Your color is not the color of any man that I have ever seen, nor are your features those of the people of my race. Perhaps you are a reincarnation of one of those ancients of whom our legends tell us; or perhaps you are a Naga who has taken the form of man for some dire purpose of your own.”
“Perhaps I am a Yeack,” suggested King.
“No,” she said quite seriously, “I am sure you are not a Yeack, for it is reported that they are most hideous, while you, though not like any man I have ever seen, are handsome.”
“I am neither Yeack nor Naga,” replied King.
“Then perhaps you are from Lodidhapura — one of the creatures of Lodivarman.”
“No,” replied the man. “I have never been to Lodidhapura. I have never seen the King, Lodivarman, and, as a matter of fact, I have always doubted their existence.”
The girl’s dark eyes regarded him steadily. “I cannot believe that,” she said, “for it is inconceivable that there should be anyone in the world who has not heard of Lodidhapura and Lodivarman.”
“I come from a far country,” explained King, “where there are millions of people who never heard of the Khmers.”
“Impossible!” she cried.
“But nevertheless quite true,” he insisted.
“From what country do you come?” she asked.
“From America.”
“I never heard of such a country.”
“Then you should be able to understand that I may never have heard of Lodidhapura,” said the man.
For a moment the girl was silent, evidently pondering the logic of his statement. “Perhaps you are right,” she said finally. “It may be that there are other cities within the jungle of which we have never heard. But tell me — you risked your life to save mine — why did you do that?”
“What else might I have done?” he asked.
“You might have run away and saved yourself.”
King smiled, but he made no reply. He was wondering if there existed any man who could have run away and left one so beautiful and so helpless to the mercies of My Lord the Tiger.
“You are very brave,” she continued presently. “What is your name?”
“Gordon King.”
“Gordon King,” she repeated in a soft, caressing voice. “That is a nice name, but it is not like any name that I have heard before.”
“And what is your name?” asked King.
“I am called Fou-tan,” she said, and she eyed him intently, as though she would note if the name made any impression upon him.
King thought Fou-tan a pretty name, but it seemed banal to say so. He was appraising her small, delicate features, her beautiful eyes and her soft brown skin. They recalled to him the weeping queen upon the misty elephant that he had seen in his delirium, and once again there arose within him doubts as to his sanity. “Tell me,” he said suddenly. “Did you ever ride through the jungle on a great elephant escorted by soldiers in brass?”
“Yes,” she said.
“And
you say that you are from Lodidhapura?” he continued.
“I have just come from there,” she replied.
“Did you ever hear of a priest called Vay Thon?”
“He is the high priest of Siva in the city of Lodidhapura,” she replied.
King shook his head in perplexity. “It is hard to know,” he murmured, “where dreams end and reality begins.”
“I do not understand you,” she said, her brows knit in perplexity.
“Perhaps I do not understand myself,” he admitted.
“You are a strange man,” said Fou-tan. “I do not know whether to fear you or trust you. You are not like any other man I have ever known. What do you intend to do with me?”
“Perhaps I had better take you back to the dwelling of Che and Kangrey,” he said, “and then tomorrow Che can guide you back to Lodidhapura.”
“But I do not wish to return to Lodidhapura,” said the girl.
“Why not?” demanded King.
“Listen, Gordon King, and I shall tell you,” said Fou-tan.
5. THE CAPTURE
“Let us sit down upon this fallen tree,” said Fou- tan, “and I shall tell you why I do not wish to return to Lodidhapura.”
As they seated themselves, King became acutely conscious of the marked physical attraction that this girl of a forgotten age exercised over him. Every movement of her lithe body, every gesture of her graceful arms and hands, each changing expression of her beautiful face and eyes were provocative. She radiated magnetism. He sensed it in the reaction of his skin, his eyes, his nostrils. It was as though ages of careful selection had produced her for the purpose of arousing in man the desire of possession, and yet there enveloped her a divine halo of chastity that aroused within his breast the protective instinct that governs the attitude of a normal man toward a woman that Fate has thrown into his keeping. Never in his life had King been similarly attracted to any woman.
“Why do you look at me so?” she inquired suddenly.
“Forgive me,” said King simply. “Go on with your story.”
“I am from Pnom Dhek,” said Fou-tan, “where Beng Kher is king. Pnom Dhek is a greater city than Lodidhapura; Beng Kher is a mightier king than Lodivarman.
“Bharata Rahon desired me. He wished to take me to wife. I pleaded with my father the — I pleaded with my father not to give me in marriage to Bharata Rahon; but he told me that I did not know my own mind, that I only thought that I did not like Bharata Rahon, that he would make me a good husband, and that after we were married I should be happy.
“I knew that I must do something to convince my father that my mind and soul sincerely revolted at the thought of mating with Bharata Rahon, and so I conceived the idea of running away and going out into the jungle that I might prove that I preferred death to the man my father had chosen for me.
“I did not want to die. I wanted them to come and find me very quickly, and when night came I was terrified. I climbed into a tree where I crouched in terror. I heard My Lord the Tiger pass beneath in the darkness of the night, and my fear was so great that I thought that I should faint and fall into his clutches; yet when day came again I was still convinced that I would rather lie in the arms of My Lord the Tiger than in those of Bharata Rahon, who is a loathsome man whose very name I detest.
“Yet I moved back in the direction of Pnom Dhek, or rather I thought that I did, though now I am certain that I went in the opposite direction. I hoped that searchers sent out by my father would find me, for I did not wish to return of my own volition to Pnom Dhek.
“The day dragged on and I met no searchers, and once again I became terrified, for I knew that I was lost in the jungle. Then I heard the heavy tread of an elephant and the clank of arms and men’s voices, and I was filled with relief and gratitude, for I thought at last that the searchers were about to find me.
“But when the warriors came within view, I saw that they wore the armour of Lodivarman. I was terrified and tried to escape them, but they had seen me and they pursued me. Easily they overtook me, and great was their joy when they looked upon me.
“‘Lodivarman will reward us handsomely,’ they cried, ‘when he sees that which we have brought to him from Pnom Dhek.’
“So they placed me in the howdah upon the elephant’s back and took me through the jungle to Lodidhapura, where I was immediately taken into the presence of Lodivarman.
“Oh, Gordon King, that was a terrible moment. I was terrified when I found myself so close to the leper king of Lodidhapura. He is covered with great sores, where leprosy is devouring him. That day he was ugly and indifferent. He scarcely looked at me, but ordered that I should be taken to the quarters of the apsarases, and so I became a dancing girl at the court of the leper king.
“Not in a thousand years, Gordon King, could I explain to you what I suffered each time that we came before Lodivarman to dance. Each sore upon his repulsive body seemed to reach out to seize and contaminate me. It was with the utmost difficulty that, half fainting, I went through the ritual of the dance.
“I tried to hide my face from him, for I knew that I was beautiful and I knew the fate of beautiful women in the court of Lodivarman.
“But at last, one day, I realized that he had noticed me. I saw his dead eyes following me about. We were dancing in the great hall where he holds his court. Lodivarman was seated upon his throne. The lead-covered walls of the great apartment were gorgeous with paintings and with hangings. Beneath our feet were the polished flagstones of the floor, but they seemed softer to me than the heart of Lodivarman.
“At last the dance was done, and we were permitted to retire to our apartments. Presently there came to me a captain of the King’s household, resplendent in his gorgeous trappings.
“ ‘The King has looked upon you,’ said he, ‘and would honor you as befits your beauty.’
“‘It is sufficient honor,’ I replied, ‘to dance in the palace of Lodivarman.’
“‘You are about to receive a more signal manifestation of the King’s honor,’ he replied.
“‘I am satisfied as I am,’ I said.
“‘It is not for you to choose, Fou-tan,’ replied the messenger. ‘The King has chosen you as his newest concubine. Rejoice, therefore, in the knowledge that some day you may become queen.’
“I could have fainted at the very horror of the suggestion.
What could I do? I must gain time. I thought of suicide, but I am young, and I do not wish to die. ‘When must I come?’ I asked.
“‘You will be given time to prepare yourself,’ replied the messenger. ‘For three days the women will bathe and anoint your body, and upon the fourth day you will be conducted to the King.’
“Four days! In four days I must find some way in which to escape the horrid fate to which my beauty had condemned me. ‘Go!’ I said. ‘Leave me in peace for the four days that remain to me of even a semblance of happiness in life.’
“The messenger, grinning, withdrew, and I threw myself upon my pallet and burst into tears. That night the apsarases were to dance in the moonlight in the courtyard before the temple of Siva; and though they would have insisted that my preparation for the honor that was to be bestowed upon me should commence at once, I begged that I might once more, and for the last time, join with my companions in honoring Siva, the Destroyer.
“It was a dark night. The flares that illumined the courtyard cast a wavering light in which exaggerated shadows of the apsarases danced grotesquely. In the dance I wore a mask, and my position was at the extreme left of the last line of apsarases. I was close to the line of spectators that encircled the courtyard, and in some of the movements of the dance I came quite close enough to touch them. This was what I had hoped for.
“All the tune that I was dancing I was perfecting in my mind the details of a plan that had occurred to me earlier in the day. The intricate series of postures and steps, with which I had been familiar since childhood, required of me but little mental concentration. I went through them m
echanically, my thoughts wholly centered upon the mad scheme that I had conceived. I knew that at one point in the dance the attention of all the spectators would be focused upon a single apsaras, whose position was in the center of the first line, and when this moment arrived I stepped quickly into the line of spectators.
“Those in my immediate vicinity noticed me, but to these I explained that I was ill and was making my way back to the temple. A little awed by my close presence, they let me pass unmolested, for in the estimation of the people the persons of the apsarases are almost holy.
“Behind the last line of the audience rose a low wall that surrounds the temple courtyard. Surmounting it at intervals rise the beautifully carved stone figures of the seven-headed cobra — emblem of the Royal Nagas. Deep were the shadows between them; and while all eyes were fixed upon the leading apsaras, I clambered quickly to the top of the low wall, where for a moment I hid in the shadow of a great Naga. Below me, black, mysterious, terrifying, lay the dark waters of the moat, beneath the surface of which lived the crocodiles placed there by the King to guard the Holy of Holies. Upon the opposite side the level of the water was but a few inches below the surface of the broad avenue that leads to the stables where the King’s elephants are kept. The avenues were deserted, for all who dwelt within the walls of the royal enclosure were watching the dance of the apsarases.
“To Brahma, to Vishnu, and to Siva I breathed a prayer, and then I slid as quietly as possible down into the terrifying waters of the moat. Quickly I struck out for the opposite side, every instant expecting to feel the hideous jaws of a crocodile close upon me; but my prayers had been heard, and I reached the avenue in safety.
“I was forced to climb two more walls before I could escape from the royal enclosure and from the city. My wet and bedraggled costume was torn, and my hands and face were scratched and bleeding before I succeeded.
“At last I was in the jungle, confronted by danger more deadly, yet far less horrible, than that from which I had escaped. How I survived that night and this day I do not know. And now the end would have come but for you, Gordon King.”
Delphi Collected Works of Edgar Rice Burroughs (Illustrated) (Series Four Book 26) Page 467
