Gordon King did not wait for the attack. He had a theory of his own based upon his experience with wild beasts. He knew them to be nervous and oftentimes timid when confronted by emergencies that offered aspects that were new and unfamiliar.
A gasp of astonishment, not unmingled with admiration, arose from the people lining the edges of the pit, for the thing that they witnessed was as surprising to them as King hoped it would be to the tiger — instead of the beast charging the man, they saw the man charging the beast. Straight toward the crouching carnivore King ran, his spear balanced and ready in his hand.
For an instant the tiger hesitated. He had expected nothing like this; and then he did what King had hoped that he might do, what he had known there was a fair chance that he would do. Fearful of the new and unexpected, the beast turned and broke, and as he did so he exposed his left side fully and at close range to the quick eye of his antagonist.
Swift as lightning moved King’s spear-arm. The heavy javelin, cast with unerring precision and backed to the last ounce by the strength and the weight of the American, tore into the striped side just behind the left shoulder of the great beast. At the instant that the weapon left his hand King turned and raced to the far extremity of the arena. The running tiger, carried by his own momentum, rolled over and over upon the stone flagging; his horrid screams and coughing roars shook the amphitheater. King was positive that the beast’s heart was pierced, but he knew that these great cats were so tenacious of life that in the brief instant of their dying they often destroyed their adversaries also. It was for this reason that he had put as much distance as he could between himself and the infuriated animal, and it was well that he had done so, for the instant that the tiger had regained his feet he discovered King and charged straight for him.
Unarmed and helpless, the man stood waiting. Breathless, the spectators had arisen from their stone benches and were bending eagerly forward in tense anticipation of the cruel and bloody end.
Half the length of the arena the tiger crossed in great bounds. A sudden conviction swept the man that after all he had missed the heart. He was poised for what he already knew must be a futile leap to one side in an effort to dodge the first charge of the onrushing beast, when suddenly the tiger collapsed, seemingly in mid-air; and his great carcass came rolling across the flagging to stop at King’s feet.
For an instant there was utter silence, and then a great shout rose from the spectators. “He has won his life, Lodivarman! He has won his freedom!” arose here and there from the braver among them, and the others cheered in approval.
Lodivarman, crouching in his throne with an ugly sneer upon his lips, called a functionary to him for a few, brief whispered instructions, and then the Leper King arose and passed through the kneeling people as he departed from the amphitheater.
A moment later the door that had opened to admit King to the pit creaked again upon its hinges to admit Vama and an escort of warriors.
King greeted his former comrade with a smile. “Have you come to finish the work that the tiger failed to do,” he asked, “or have you come to escort me to freedom?”
“Neither,” replied Vama. “We have come to return you to your cell, for such are the commands of the King. But if he does not set you free eventually,” added Vama in low tones, “it will be to the lasting disgrace of Lodivarman, for never was a man more deserving of his life and liberty than you. You are the first man, Gordon King, who has ever faced the tiger in this pit and come out alive.”
“Which does not at all satisfy Lodivarman’s craving for revenge,” suggested the American.
“I am afraid you are right,” said Vama, as they moved along the corridor toward the dungeon, “but you must know that today you have made many new friends in Lodidhapura, for there are those among us who can appreciate courage, strength and skill.”
“My mistake,” said King, “was not in my selection of friends, but in my selection of an enemy; for the latter, I have found one from whom all the friends in the world may not save me.”
Once again in his gloomy, cheerless cell King was fettered to the cold, familiar stone; but he was cheered by the kind words of Vama and the friendly expressions of other members of the guard that had escorted him hither; and when presently a slave came with food he, too, had words of praise and friendliness; and the food that he brought was well prepared and plentiful.
The day passed and the long night followed, and toward the middle of the next forenoon a visitor came to King’s cell; and as he paused in the doorway, the prisoner recognized the yellow robe and the white beard of Vay Thon, the high priest of Siva, and his face lighted with pleasure, as the old man peered into the dim interior of his prison.
“Welcome, Vay Thon!” he exclaimed, “and accept my apologies for the mean hospitality that I may offer so distinguished and so welcome a guest.”
“Give that no thought, my son,” replied the old man. “It is enough that so courageous a warrior should receive a poor old priest with such pleasure as is evidenced by your tone. I am glad to be with you, but I wish that it might be under happier circumstances and that I might be the bearer of more welcome news.”
“You have brought news to me, then?” asked King.
“Yes,” replied Vay Thon. “Because of what I owe you and for the friendship that I feel for you I have come to warn you, though any warning of your impending doom can avail you nothing.”
“Lodivarman will not give me my liberty or my life, then?” asked King.
“No,” replied Vay Thon. “The affront that you put upon him he considers beyond forgiveness. You are to be destroyed, but in such a way that the responsibility shall not rest upon the shoulders of Lodivarman.”
“And how is this to be accomplished?” asked the American.
“You are to be summoned to the audience chamber of Lodivarman to receive your freedom and then you are to be set upon and assassinated by members of his guard. The story is to be spread that you sought to take the life of Lodivarman, so that his soldiers were compelled to slay you.”
“Vay Thon,” said King, “perhaps the warning that you bring me may not save me from the fate that Lodivarman has ordained; but it has demonstrated your friendship; and my last hours, therefore, will be happier because you came. And now go, for if the knowledge that you have imparted prompts me to take advantage of some opportunity for revenge or escape, there must be no clue to suggest that you are in any way responsible.”
“I appreciate your thoughtfulness, my friend,” replied the old priest, “and as I can be of no service to you I shall leave you, but know that constantly I shall supplicate the gods to protect you.” He came and placed his hands upon King’s shoulders. “Good-bye, my son, my heart is heavy,” and as the tears welled in his old eyes he turned and left the cell.
Vay Thon had been gone but a short time when King heard the sound of footsteps approaching, and with these were mingled the clank of armour and the rattling of accoutrements. Presently, when the men halted before the doorway of his cell, he saw that they were all strangers to him. The officer who commanded them entered the cell, greeting King pleasantly.
“I bring you good news,” he said, as he stooped and unlocked the padlock and cast King’s fetters from him.
“Any news would be good news here,” replied the American.
“But this is the best of all news,” said the officer. “Lodivarman has commanded that you be conducted to him that he may grant you your freedom in person.”
“Splendid,” said King, though he could scarcely repress a smile as he recalled the message that Vay Thon had brought him.
Back to the now familiar audience chamber of the King they conducted the prisoner, and once again he stood before the throne of Lodivarman. There were few in attendance upon the monarch, a fact which suggested that he had not cared to share the secret of his perfidy with more than was absolutely necessary. But few though they were, the inevitable slave was there, kneeling at Lodivarman’s side with his p
latter of mushrooms; and it was the sight of these lowly fungi that instantly riveted the attention of the doomed man, for suddenly they had become more important than brass-bound soldiers, than palace functionaries, than the King himself, for they had suggested to the American a possible means of salvation.
He knew that he must think and act quickly, for he had no means of knowing how soon the signal for his assassination would be given.
Surrounded by his guards, he crossed the audience chamber and halted before the throne of Lodivarman. He should have prostrated himself then, but he did not; instead he looked straight into the dead eyes of the tyrant.
“Lodivarman,” he said, “listen to me for a moment before you give the signal that will put into execution the plan that you have conceived, for at this instant your own life and happiness hang in the balance.”
“What do you mean?” demanded Lodivarman.
“You questioned the power of my God, Lodivarman,” continued King, “but you saw me vanquish My Lord the Tiger in the face of the wrath of Siva, and now you know that I am aware of just what you planned for me here. How could I have vanquished the beast, or how could I have known your plans except through the intervention and the favor of my God?”
Lodivarman seemed ill at ease. His eyes shifted suspiciously from one man to another. “I have been betrayed,” he said angrily.
“On the contrary,” replied King, “you have been given such an opportunity as never could have come to you without me. Will you hear me before I am slain?”
“I do not know what you are talking about. I sent for you to free you; but speak on, I am listening.”
“You are a leper,” said King, and at the hideous word Lodivarman sprang to his feet, trembling with rage, his face livid, his dead eyes glaring.
“Death to him!” he cried. “No man may speak that accursed word to me and live.”
At Lodivarman’s words warriors sprang menacingly toward King. “Wait!” cried the American. “You have told me that you would listen. Wait until I have spoken, for what I have to say means more to you than life itself.”
“Speak, then, but be quick,” snapped Lodivarman.
“In the great country from which I come,” continued King, “there are many brilliant physicians who have studied all of the diseases to which mankind is heir. I, too, am a physician, and under many of those men have I studied and particularly have I studied the disease of leprosy. Lodivarman, you believe this disease to be incurable; but I, the man whom you would destroy, can cure you.”
King’s voice, well modulated but clear and distinct, had carried his words to every man in the audience chamber, and the silence which followed this dramatic declaration was so profound that one might have said that no man even breathed. All felt the tenseness of the moment.
Lodivarman, who had sunk back into his throne after his wild outburst of anger, seemed almost to have collapsed. He was trembling visibly, his lower jaw dropped upon his chest. King knew that the man was impressed, that all within the audience chamber were impressed, and his knowledge of human nature told him that he had won, for he knew that Lodivarman, king though he was, was only human and that he would grasp at even the most impalpable suggestion of hope that might be offered him in the extremity of his fear and loathing for the disease that claimed him.
Presently the tyrant found his voice. “You can cure me?” he asked, almost piteously.
“My life shall be the forfeit,” replied King, “on condition that you swear before your gods in the presence of Vay Thon, the high priest, that in return for your health you will grant me life and liberty—”
“Life, liberty, and every honor that lies within my power shall be conferred upon you,” cried Lodivarman, his voice trembling with emotion. “If you rid me of this horrid sickness, aught that you ask shall be granted. Come, let us not delay. Cure me at once.”
“The sickness has held you for many years, Lodivarman,” replied King, “and it cannot be cured in a day. I must prepare medicine, and you must carry out the instructions that I shall give you, for I can cure you only if you obey me implicitly.”
“How do I know that you will not poison me?” demanded Lodivarman.
King thought for a moment. Here was an obstacle that he had not foreseen, and then suddenly a solution suggested itself. “I can satisfy you as to that, Lodivarman,” he replied, “for when I prepare medicine for you I shall take some of it myself in your presence.”
Lodivarman nodded. “That will safeguard me,” he said, “and now what else?”
“Put me where Vay Thon, the high priest, can watch me always. You trust him, and he will see that no harm befalls you through me. He will help me to obtain the medicine that I require, and tomorrow I shall be ready to commence the treatment. But in the meantime your system must be prepared to permit the medicine to take effect, and in this I can do nothing without your co- operation.”
“Speak!” said Lodivarman. “Whatever you suggest I shall do.”
“Have every mushroom in Lodidhapura destroyed,” said King. “Have your slave burn those that have been prepared, and determine never to taste another.”
Lodivarman scowled angrily. “What have mushrooms to do with the cure?” he demanded. “They afford me the only pleasure that I have in life. This is naught but a trick to annoy and discomfort me.”
“As you will,” said King with a shrug. “I can cure you, but only if you obey my instructions. My medicines will have no effect if you continue to eat mushrooms. But it is up to you, Lodivarman. Do as you choose.”
For a time the ruler sat tapping nervously upon the arm of his throne, and then suddenly and almost savagely he turned upon the kneeling slave at his side. “Throw out the accursed things,” he cried. “Throw them out! Destroy them! Burn them! And never let me set my eyes upon you again.”
Trembling, the slave departed, carrying the platter of mushrooms with him, and then Lodivarman directed his attention upon one of the officers of his household. “Destroy the royal mushroom bed,” he cried, “and see to it that you do it thoroughly,” and then to another, “Summon Vay Thon.” As the officers left the room Lodivarman turned to King again. “How long will it be before I am cured?” he asked.
“I cannot tell that until I see how you react to my medicine,” replied the American; “but I believe that you will see almost immediate improvement. It may be very slow, and on the other hand, it may come very rapidly.”
While they waited for Vay Thon, Lodivarman plied King with question after question; and now that he was convinced that men had been cured of leprosy and that he himself might be cured, a great change seemed to come over him. It was as though a new man had been born; his whole aspect appeared to change, as the hideous burden of fear and hopelessness that he had carried for so many years was dissipated by the authoritative manner and confident pronouncement of the American. And when Vay Thon entered the audience chamber, he saw a smile upon Lodivarman’s face for the first time in so many years that he had almost forgotten that the man could smile.
Quickly Lodivarman explained the situation to Vay Thon and gave him his instructions relative to the American, for he wished the latter to hasten the preparation of his medicine.
“tomorrow,” he cried, as the two men were backing from the apartment, “to- morrow my cure shall commence.” And Gordon King did not tell him that his cure already had started, that it had started the instant that he had given orders for the destruction of the royal mushroom bed, for he did not wish Lodivarman to know what he knew — that the man was not a leper and never had been, that what in his ignorance he had thought was leprosy was nothing more than an aggravated form of dermatitis, resulting from food-poisoning. At least King prayed that his diagnosis was correct.
15. WAR
From the quarters of Vay Thon slaves were despatched into the jungle for many strange herbs and roots, and from these King compounded three prescriptions, but the basis of each was a mild laxative. The purpose of the other ingredients
was chiefly to add impressiveness and mystery to the compounds, for however much King might deplore this charlatanism he was keenly aware that he must not permit the cure to appear too simple. He was dealing with a primitive mind, and he was waging a battle of wits for his life — conditions which seemed to warrant the adoption of means that are not altogether frowned upon by the most ethical of modern practitioners.
Three times a day he went in person to a small audience chamber off the bedroom of Lodivarman, and there, in the presence of Vay Thon and officers of the royal household, he tasted the medicine himself before administering it to Lodivarman. Upon the third day it became apparent that the sores upon the body of the King were drying up. Exsiccation was so manifest that Lodivarman was jubilant. He laughed and joked with those about him and renewed his assurances to the American that no reward within the power of his giving would be denied him when Lodivarman was again a whole man. Each day thereafter the improvement was marked and rapid, until, at the end of three weeks, no trace remained of the hideous sores that had so horribly disfigured the monarch for so many years.
Gradually King had been diminishing the dosages that he had been administering and had tapered off the treatment from three to two a day and finally to one. Upon the twenty-first day King ordered Lodivarman to his bedroom; and there, in the presence of Vay Thon and three of the highest officers of the kingdom, he examined the King’s entire body and found the skin clear, healthy, and without blemish.
“Well?” demanded Lodivarman, when the examination had been completed.
“Your Majesty is cured,” said King.
The King arose from his bed and threw a robe about him. “Life and liberty are yours, Gordon King,” he said. “A palace, slaves, riches are at your disposal. You have proven yourself a great warrior and a great physician. If you will remain here you shall be an officer in the royal guard and the private physician of Lodivarman, the King.”
Delphi Collected Works of Edgar Rice Burroughs (Illustrated) (Series Four Book 26) Page 479
