Delphi Collected Works of Edgar Rice Burroughs (Illustrated) (Series Four Book 26)

by Edgar Rice Burroughs

  The neat little cottage where Martin and his wife lived was too small and too far from the center of the capital to suit Hilda; so, for these and other reasons, she lived in an expensive apartment a few blocks from the palace. One day, when Ferdinand dropped in for cocktails, Hilda chanced to be alone. She had come in just ahead of him and still had on her hat and wraps. Ferdinand asked her where she had been.

  “I have been visiting Mother,” she said. “I saw a letter from Hans. He does not like it on the frontier. He said he wished he could be transferred to another regiment — one stationed here in the capital. He would like to be near Mother and Father; and they would like to have him, for they are very much alone now. You will do that for me, dear, won’t you?”

  “Hans does not like me very well,” said Ferdinand. “Do you think it would be safe to have him here? I had him sent to the frontier because I thought it would be safer for both of us.”

  “Oh, Hans is a man now,” said Hilda. “He will look at things differently, and when I tell him that we are going to be married as soon as you are king everything will be all right.”

  Ferdinand looked very uncomfortable. He lit a cigarette and threw it away; then he drank a cocktail at a single gulp and lighted another cigarette.

  “I don’t know that everything is going to be all right,” he said. “I have some bad news.”

  “Bad news? What is it?” demanded Hilda.

  “The King wants me to marry.” “Whom?”

  “The Princess Marla.”

  “I don’t believe he wants you to marry her,” sobbed Hilda. “You love her. You are tired of me.”

  “Love that horse-faced scarecrow! Don’t be silly. I don’t love anyone but you. I never have and never shall,” and that was the truth. It was one of the few decent things about Ferdinand.

  “Then if you loved me, you’d marry me — you wouldn’t marry her.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Hilda! Can’t you understand that I have nothing to do with it? The King has commanded that I marry her. As soon as I’m king, I’ll divorce her and marry you. Nobody can stop me!’

  “I won’t have you; I won’t ever see you again, if you marry her,” sobbed Hilda. “You could do something about it if you cared.”

  Do something about it! Ferdinand sat staring at the carpet, his eyes wide as though he were frightened, his fingers twitching. Do something about it!

  * * * * *

  “It is quite difficult getting here or anywhere else unobserved,” said Carlyn. “Sarnya’s people are everywhere.

  “You probably imagine that,” suggested Andresy, “because you have a guilty conscience.”

  “Perhaps,” agreed Carlyn. “However, I feel that we should not attempt it again until—”

  “Yes, you are right. However, I did want to see you. There are several things we should discuss. How are you progressing?”

  “Exceptionally well; but first tell me about your trip to Switzerland. Did you accomplish anything?”

  “Very little,” replied Andresy. “Lomsk is not trustworthy. He is also a coward; and he is actuated by his desire to satisfy his greed and his vanity, both of which are inordinate. He would do anything for money. He would betray us or Ferdinand as quickly as he would Otto, if the price were right. But to be General Count Lomsk, Chief of Staff, he would sell his soul; and not for any constructive purpose, either — just to wear the epaulets and strut before the ladies. He might have done something for us in Switzerland by consolidating the expatriates there and in France, but all he did was to spend the money we have been sending him on a blonde from Germany. However, we shall have to put up with him. He will be a power behind the throne when Ferdinand is king. And now, tell me how things .have been going with you. Are you any closer to the palace?”

  “I am practically in it,” replied Carlyn. “Within a day or two I am to be transferred to The Guards. I don’t know how Ferdinand accomplished it, unless it is that Sarnya is attempting to keep peace in the family by granting unimportant favors to Ferdinand — what Sarnya thinks are unimportant. Once in The Guards, some day I shall be Officer of the Guard inside the palace. It will be an ordinary, routine detail. That, my good friend, Andresy, will be the day!”

  “Let us drink to it,” said Andresy, raising his glass.

  “I have another matter to report that may be important and may not,” continued Carlyn. “It has possibilities, however; and I shall continue to follow it up.”

  “Yes? and what is it?”

  “Recently a young lieutenant was transferred from the frontier to my regiment here. He is the brother of Hilda de Groot. When I found that out, I cultivated him, you may be sure. He is a very fine young man. I made it a point to take him under my wing, and now we are the best of friends. As I suspected, he hates Ferdinand.”

  “Good!” exclaimed Andresy. “It is well to be prepared for any eventuality, especially in this instance, as I am quite sure that Ferdinand is going to make a very bad king who will want his own way — a mistake that the more experienced kings have recently learned to avoid.”

  “Now,” said Carlyn, “as I may not be able to see you again before The Day; I should like to explain exactly what I wish done when I send you the word. I have worked it all out very carefully. Please do not ask any questions — just trust me. I shall be gambling my life, you know.”

  “I would like to place a bet that you do not lose it,” said Andresy, with a smile.

  “I do not intend losing it,” Carlyn assured him. “Now listen carefully...”

  * * * * *

  Lieutenant Hans de Groot dropped into the little cottage on the outskirts of the capital one afternoon for a short visit with his mother and father, but neither one of them was there. The maid-of-all work told him that the latter was away on a job and that his mother was out shopping but would be back soon.

  While Hans was waiting in the little parlor, a limousine stopped at the curb, a liveried footman sprang out and opened the door, and Hilda de Groot stepped from the tonneau. She did not know that Hans was in the cottage; and Hans, who was reading a magazine, had not heard the quiet motor as it pulled up and stopped. He heard the front door open and close; and when he looked up, Hilda was standing in the doorway of the parlor. It was the first time that they had seen one another since that fateful night four years before when Hans had waited in the garden to kill Ferdinand. Hilda was now a beautiful young woman, from whose pulchritude the art of Molyneaux had certainly detracted nothing.

  Hans came slowly to his feet. His face was stem and uncompromising. The girl’s great beauty struck him almost as a blow in the face. To him, it was the hallmark of her shame, of the disgrace she had brought upon the family.

  Hilda flushed. “Oh, Hans!” she breathed. “It is so good to see you. Please do not be cross. Why can you not understand?”

  “Understand! What is there to understand that all the world does not know?”

  “If you knew anything of love, you would understand — and forgive.”

  “Love!” He spit the word out.

  “It is love,” she said, simply. “We love each other so much.”

  “And because he loves you so much, he has gone away to ask another woman to marry him!”

  “That is not his fault,” the girl defended. “The King commanded it, but Ferdinand will never marry her. He has promised me that he will not; and when he is king, he will marry me.”

  “And you believe that?” “Absolutely.”

  “Then I am sorry for you because you are such a fool. He will never marry you. He has no intention of marrying you; and even if he had, they would never permit it. Do you think the nobles, the army, or the people would accept a Dutch gardener’s daughter as queen?”

  “Stranger things than that have happened,” she replied; “even swineherds have become kings. When Ferdinand is king, he will be king; then he will do as he pleases. He is not afraid of them.”

  “I shall wait and see what he does when he is king,” said Han
s.

  CHAPTER 12

  Even as Nakhla entered the tent of her father she realized the folly of attempting to convince her people of the truth of her day’s experiences. They would never believe her. So she decided that reference to the lad and the lion had better be left unmade.

  Her father and his people were wild with joy at her safe return, and to account for her absence she told of her capture by the marauders and her eventual escape.

  El Djebel, her horse, had not yet returned. A party of young tribesmen were scouring the desert for her, but they had gone to the east instead of to the west. They returned late the following morning, and an hour later El Djebel wandered unconcernedly into the camp in search of food and water.

  For several days Nakhla found no opportunity to leave camp unattended though she longed to go out into the hills in search of her strange new friends. Her mind was occupied with nothing else than thoughts of the tall and noble youth whose eyes had drunk deep from the depths of her own. She made Ben Saada sick with the torture of her indifference, until, finally, goaded to desperation, he went to her father, demanding the hand of Nakhla in marriage.

  Twenty camels offered Ben Saada for the daughter of Sheik Ali-Es-Hadji; but the old sheik told him that he must win Nakhla’s consent first, for Ali-Es- Hadji was already rich, as riches go within the desert, and Nakhla was his only daughter. So Ben Saada went to Nakhla, laying his heart at her feet; but still was the girl obdurate; so that the man, from pleading, fell to threatening, whereat her head went high and she turned her back upon him.

  Beneath Ben Saada’s dark skin beat a darker heart. The man thought that he loved the maid, but within the breast of such as Ben Saada could burn no unselfish flame. Really, at the bottom of his passion was only base desire and ambition, for Sheik-Ali-Es-Hadji was without a son; and Ben Saada saw himself as the son-in-law of the old sheik, a sheik himself upon the death of Ali-Es- Hadji.

  There was a way to bring the girl to him, and that way Ben Saada swore that he would take the moment that opportunity presented. In the meantime he could wait, and scowling beneath the hood of his burnoose he strode away to his goatskin tent.

  For a week the lad, far out in the hills, roamed and hunted by himself; for the lion had answered the call of the lioness, and now only occasionally did he return to the rocky lair upon the hillside. The youth, proud in. his new apparel, strutted about like a peacock; but when it came to hunting he discovered that his finery was much in his way. The dirty white burnoose attracted the attention of his quarry long before he came within striking distance; and it was soon clear to him that he must abandon, temporarily, either his clothing or his food.

  Naturally he chose the former alternative. Rolling his garments into a dank and sweaty wad he hid them in the darkest comer of his den. Then he went out to fall upon an unwary antelope as it watered at the brook. The knife he carried, for it’s practical usefulness had been readily apparent to him from the first. He wore it in the Arab’s belt about his naked waist, and found it simplified the matter of feeding upon the flesh of his kill. Heretofore he had tom away great mouthfuls with his strong, white teeth; but now, with the knife, he found it much easier to cut strips from the carcass.

  Carrying the dead antelope to the ledge before his lair he feasted to repletion. Then he donned his clothes once more, and lay down to sleep after the manner of wild beasts that have filled their bellies; but he found that sleep would not come. His mind was a riot of thoughts and memories, for he was a man. Had he been a lion, it would have been different.

  He saw the beautiful face of the girl he had left outside the tents of her people a few nights before. He had daily hoped that she would come again to his valley. His timidity had kept him from approaching her camp by day, though nearly every night had found him wandering close to the tents of the tribe of Ali-Es-Hadji; but never had he seen the girl, though once, early in the evening, he had thought that he heard her voice.

  At last he arose from his rocky bed. He would go out into the edge of the desert and look for her — possibly she would come this day. He moved quickly along the bottom of the canyon, upward toward the pass. At the hilltop he paused to look out across the sands toward the cluster of date palms and the tents of the people of Nakhla. They were but a single tiny splotch of green, far, far away upon the desert; yet at sight of them his heart beat faster and a great joy welled within his breast.

  Now he saw something moving between him and the oasis — a little speck of darker sand upon the yellow. Motionless as a statue stood the youth — the training of the carnivore apparent in the narrowed lids and the blazing eyes and in the half crouch of his giant body. Like a shadow he melted behind a nearby bush, so gradual his movement that it could scarce have attracted the eye of one nearby.

  From his hiding place he watched that which moved upon the desert. It was approaching. Presently he saw that it was one upon a horse, and when it had reached the first ascent from the desert to the hills the youth leaped from his hiding place and ran swiftly to meet it.

  It was Nakhla. At sight of the man running toward her she drew rein, for she did not know yet that it was he; but when she heard the rumbling roar of a lion tumble from his lips she spurred on her trembling mount, pressing upward to meet him.

  All the way from her father’s douar she had told herself over and ever again that she but rode today for the pleasure of riding, that she neither expected, nor hoped to meet anyone upon the way, and least of all a white stranger who was more beast than human and who, in addition, was doubtless a Nasrâny — hated of her people — dog of an unbeliever.

  Nakhla had worked herself into quite a heat of self righteous indignation that anyone should dare to ascribe to her such an unthinkable motive when she chanced to glance again toward the summit of the hills she was approaching and there saw a man running toward her. At first her heart had stood quite still, until the savage roar of welcome rolling down upon her ears had set it to beating wildly; and then forgetting all but the man before her she spurred El Djebel upward toward him.

  At his side she drew rein, timid and afraid now that she was come into his presence. He took her hand and stroked it, for he knew no form of greeting such as men use. For years he had stroked the tawny coat of the lion as the only outward manifestation of affection for his one friend; so it was not strange that he should stroke the cool and shapely hand of Nakhla, his new friend, who awakened within his savage and untutored breast a chaos of pleasurable emotions.

  The girl slipped from El Djebel to stand at his side, and looking up into his face she spoke to him; but he only shook his head sadly, for he could not understand.

  And then there came to her a sudden determination — she would teach this stranger who sent the blood coursing madly through her veins the language of her people, for she longed to hear him voice the sentiments that his eyes and his stroking hand proclaimed.

  She was at a loss as to just how she might commence her task, until it occurred to her that she should like to hear her own name upon his lips. Yes, that should be the first word that he should speak; and so, pointing to herself, she repeated, “Nakhla” several times over.

  He understood at once, and, smiling, repeated the word after her. Laughing, the girl clapped her brown hands. He had said it! He had spoken her name, nor had it ever sounded quite the same to her before as it did from the firm lips of this Nasrâny.

  Then she pointed to El Djebel, saying in Arabic, “Horse,” and the man repeated, “Horse.” Thus she continued her first lesson, pointing out all the familiar objects about them until he could name each accurately in the language of his tutor. He learned quickly, for his mind was unspoiled, and he had nothing to unlearn.

  As they talked, the youth, holding one of her hands, led her back down into his own rocky little canyon, where, beside a spreading palm, they sat together by the brook’s brim looking into each other’s eyes while the man recited his lesson.

  Nakhla was very proud of her success as a teacher.
It would not be long, at this rate, before the man could talk to her — and tell her what was in his heart. The same thought filled the mind of the youth, so that when the girl paused for a moment he pointed out new objects questioningly, nor did he once confuse the names of any, or make a single error after she had taught him the correct pronunciation.

  He prefaced everything with “Nakhla” to attract her attention; and then he would point to the thing the name of which he wished to learn. His mind was fertile and resourceful. He found many ways to learn, since he had commenced, that the girl would never have thought of.

  Pointing to his feet he learned how to call them in Arabic, and then rising he walked still pointing to his feet, and she, understanding, taught him the verb, to walk. Then he ran, learning the verb.

  He stood, and sat, and lay down. He climbed a tree. He drank from the brook. He did the many, little everyday things that were most familiar to him; and as he learned the nouns and verbs, unconsciously he learned, too, the articles, prepositions and conjunctions, from the constant repetition of them upon Nakhla’s lips as she spoke to him while he was learning.

  At last the girl realized that it was growing late, and that she must return to her father’s douar. She made the youth understand, and together they took their way across the hills to the desert. Here she mounted EI Djebel, but the man would not let her ride alone across the wilderness. With a hand upon her stirrup leather he ran beside her, keeping pace with the galloping horse with as little apparent effort as the horse himself, for the lad and the lion had often run great distances in pursuit of their prey, frequently across rough and rugged country, so that this was but child’s play for his mighty muscles.

  When they had come as close to the camp as Nakhla dared venture with her strange companion she reined in El Djebel, and leaning down close to the youth whispered her goodbye. He repeated the words after her, though he did not as yet comprehend their import.