It was one of those lovely nights that transform old Barsoom into a world of enchantment. Thuria and Cluros were racing through the heavens, casting their soft light upon the garden of Tor Hatan, empurpling the vivid, scarlet sward and lending strange hues to the gorgeous blooms of pimalia and sorapus, while the winding walks, gravelled with semi-precious stones, shot back a thousand scintillant rays that, clothed in ever-changing colours, danced at the feet of the marble statuary that lent an added artistic charm to the ensemble.
In one of the spacious halls that overlooked the garden of the palace, a youth and a maiden sat upon a massive bench of rich sorapus wood, such a bench as might have graced the halls of the great Jeddak himself, so intricate its rich design, so perfect the carving of the master craftsman who produced it.
Upon the leathern harness of the youth were the insignia of his rank and service—a Padwar in the 91st Umak. The youth was I, Hadron of Hastor, and with me was Sanoma Tora, daughter of Tor Hatan. I had come filled with the determination boldly to plead my cause, but suddenly I had become aware of my unworthiness. What had I to offer this beautiful daughter of the rich Tor Hatan? I was only a Padwar, and a poor one at that. Of course, there was the royal blood of Gathol in my veins, and that, I knew, would have weight with Tor Hatan, but I am not given to boasting, and I could not have reminded Sanoma Tora of the advantages to be derived because of it even had I known positively that it would influence her. I had, therefore, nothing to offer but my great love, which is perhaps, after all, the greatest gift that man or woman can bring to another, and I had thought of late that Sanoma Tora might love me. Upon several occasions she had sent for me, and although in each instance she had suggested going to the palace of Tara of Helium, I had been vain enough to hope that this was not her sole reason for wishing to be with me.
“You are uninteresting to-night, Hadron of Hastor,” she said after a particularly long silence, during which I had been endeavouring to formulate my proposal in some convincing and graceful phrases.
“Perhaps,” I replied, “it is because I am trying to find the words in which to clothe the most interesting thought I have ever entertained.”
“And what is that?” she asked politely, though with no great show of interest.
“I love you, Sanoma Tora,” I blurted awkwardly.
She laughed. It was like the tinkling of silver upon crystal—beautiful but cold. “That has been apparent for a long while,” she said; “but why speak of it?”
“And why not?” I asked.
“Because even if I returned your love, I am not for you, Hadron of Hastor,” she replied coldly.
“You cannot love me then, Sanoma Tora?” I asked.
“I did not say that,” she replied.
“You could love me?”
“I could love you if I permitted myself the weakness,” she said; “but what is love?”
“Love is everything,” I told her.
Sanoma Tora laughed. “If you think that I would link myself for life to a threadbare Padwar even if I loved him, you are mistaken,” she said haughtily. “I am the daughter of Tor Hatan, whose wealth and power are but little less than those of the royal families of Helium. I have suitors whose wealth is so great that they could buy you a thousand times over. Within the year an emissary of the Jeddak Tul Axtar of Jahar waited upon my father; he had seen me and said that he would return, and merely for love you would ask me, who may some day be Jeddara of Jahar, to become the wife of a poor Padwar.”
I arose. “Perhaps you are right,” I said. “You are so beautiful that it does not seem possible that you could be wrong, but deep in my heart I cannot but feel that happiness is the greatest treasure that one may possess, and love the greatest power. Without these, Sanoma Tora, even a Jeddara is poor indeed.”
“I shall take my chance,” she said.
“I hope that the Jeddak of Jahar is not as greasy as his emissary,” I remarked, rather peevishly, I am afraid.
“He may be an animated grease-pot for all I care if he will make me his Jeddara,” said Sanoma Tora.
“Then there is no hope for me?” I asked.
“Not while you have so little to offer, Padwar,” she replied.
It was then that a slave announced Sil Vagis, and I took my leave. I had never before plumbed such depths of despondency as that which engulfed me as I made my unhappy way back to my quarters, but even though hope seemed dead I had not relinquished my determination to win her. If wealth and power were her price, then I would achieve wealth and power. Just how I was going to accomplish it was not entirely clear, but I was young, and to youth all things are possible.
I had tossed in wakefulness upon my sleeping silks and furs for some time when an officer of the guard burst suddenly into my quarters.
“Hadron!” he shouted, “are you here?”
“Yes,” I replied.
“Praised be the ashes of my ancestors!” he exclaimed. “I feared that you were not.”
“Why should I not be?” I demanded. “What is this all about?”
“Tor Hatan, the fat old treasure-bag, is gone mad,” he exclaimed.
“Tor Hatan gone mad? What do you mean? What has that got to do with me?”
“He swears that you have abducted his daughter.”
In an instant I was upon my feet. “Abducted Sanoma Tora!” I cried. “Has something happened to her? Tell me, quickly.”
“Yes, she is gone all right,” said my informant, “and there is something mighty mysterious about it.”
But I did not wait to hear more. Seizing my harness, I adjusted it as I ran up the spiral runway towards the hangars on the roof of the barracks. I had no authority nor permit to take out a flier, but what did that mean to me if Sanoma Tora was in danger?
The hangar guards sought to detain and question me. I do not recall what I told them; I know that I must have lied to them, for they let me run out a swift one-man flier, and an instant later I was racing through the night towards the palace of Tor Hatan.
As it stands but little more than two haads from the barracks, I was there in but a few moments, and as I landed in the garden, which was now brilliantly lighted, I saw a number of people congregated there, among whom were Tor Hatan and Sil Vagis.
As I leaped from the deck of the flier, the former came angrily towards me. “So it is you!” he cried. “What have you to say for yourself? Where is my daughter?”
“That is what I have come to ask, Tor Hatan,” I replied.
“You are at the bottom of this,” he cried. “You abducted her. She told Sil Vagis that this very night you had demanded her hand in marriage and that she had refused you.”
“I did ask for her hand,” I said, “and she refused me. That part is true; but if she has been abducted, in the name of your first ancestors, do not waste time trying to connect me with the diabolical plot. I had nothing to do with it. How did it happen? Who was with her?”
“Sil Vagis was with her. They were walking in the garden,” replied Tor Hatan.
“You saw her abducted,” I asked, turning to Sil Vagis, “and you are here unwounded and alive?”
He started to stammer. “There were many of them,” he said. “They overpowered me.”
“You saw them?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Was I among them?” I demanded.
“It was dark. I could not recognize any of them; perhaps they were disguised.”
“They overpowered you?” I asked him.
“Yes,” he said.
“You lie!” I exclaimed. “Had they laid hands upon you they would have killed you. You ran away and hid, never drawing a weapon to defend the girl.”
“That is a lie,” cried Sil Vagis. “I fought with them, but they overpowered me.”
I turned to Tor Hatan. “We are wasting time,” I said. “Is there no one who can give us a clue as to the identity of these men and the direction they took in their flight? How and whence came they? How and whence did they depart?”
“He is trying to throw you off the track, Tor Hatan,” said Sil Vagis. “Who else could it have been but a disgruntled suitor? What would you say if I should tell you that the metal of the men who stole Sanoma Tora was the metal of the warriors of Hastor?”
“I would say that you are a liar,” I replied. “If it was so dark that you could not recognize faces, how could you decipher the insignia upon their harness?”
At this juncture another officer of the 91st Umak joined us. “We have found one who may, perhaps, shed some light upon the subject,” he said, “if he lives long enough to speak.”
Men had been searching the grounds of Tor Hatan and that portion of the city adjacent to his palace, and now several approached bearing a man, whom they laid upon the sward at our feet. His broken and mangled body was entirely naked, and as he lay there gasping feebly for breath, he was a pitiful spectacle.
A slave dispatched into the palace returned with stimulants, and when some of these had been forced between his lips, the man revived slightly.
“Who are you?” asked Tor Hatan.
“I am a warrior of the city guard,” replied the man feebly.
An officer approached Tor Hatan excitedly. “My men have just found six more bodies close to the point at which we discovered this man,” he said. “They are all naked and similarly broken and mangled.”
“Perhaps we shall get to the bottom of this yet,” said Tor Hatan, and, turning again to the poor, broken thing upon the scarlet sward, he directed him to proceed.
“We were on night patrol over the city when we saw a craft running without lights. As we approached it and turned our searchlights upon it, I caught a single, brief glimpse of it. It bore no colours or insignia to denote its origin, and its design was unlike that of any ship I have ever seen. It had a long, low, enclosed cabin, upon either side of which were mounted two peculiar-looking guns. This was all I had time to note, except that I saw a man directing one of the guns in our direction. The padwar in command of our ship immediately gave orders to fire upon the stranger, and at the same time he hailed him.
At that instant our ship dissolved in mid-air; even my harness fell from me. I remember falling, that is all,” and with these words he gasped once and died.
Tor Hatan called his people around him. “There must have been someone about the palace or the grounds who saw something of this occurrence,” he said. “I command that no matter who may be involved, whoever has any knowledge whatsoever of this affair shall speak.”
A slave stepped forward, and as he approached, Tor Hatan eyed him with haughty arrogance.
“Well,” demanded the Odwar, “what have you to say? Speak!”
“You have commanded it, Tor Hatan,” said the slave, “otherwise I should not speak, for when I have told what I saw I shall have incurred the enmity of a powerful noble,” and he glanced quickly towards Sil Vagis.
“And if you speak the truth, man, you will have won the friendship of a padwar whose sword is not so mean but that it may protect you even from a powerful noble,” I said quickly, and I, too, glanced at Sil Vagis, for it was in my mind that what the fellow had to tell might be none too flattering to the soft fop who masqueraded beneath the title of a warrior.
“Speak!” commanded Tor Hatan impatiently. “And see to it that thou dost not lie.”
“For fourteen years I have served faithfully in your palace, Tor Hatan,” replied the man, “ever since I was brought to Helium a prisoner of war after the fall and sack of Kobol, where I served in the bodyguard of the Jed of Kobol, and in all that time you have had no reason to question my truthfulness. Sanoma Tora trusted me, and had I had a sword this night she might still be with us.”
“Come! Come!” cried Tor Hatan. “Get to the point. What saw you?”
“The fellow saw nothing,” snapped Sil Vagis. “Why waste time upon him? He seeks but to glory in a little brief notoriety.”
“Let him speak,” I exclaimed.
“I had just ascended the first ramp to the second level of the palace,” explained the slave, “on my way to the sleeping quarters of Tor Hatan to arrange his sleeping silks and furs for the night as is my custom, and, pausing for a moment to look out into the garden, I saw Sanoma Tora and Sil Vagis walking in the moonlight. Conscious that I should not thus observe them, I was about to continue on my way about my duties when I saw a flier dropping silently out of the night towards the garden. Its motors were noiseless, it showed no light. It seemed a spectral ship, and of such strange design that even if for no other reason it would have arrested my attention, but there were other reasons. Unlighted ships move through the night for no good purpose, and so I paused to watch it.
“It landed silently and quickly behind Sanoma Tora and Sil Vagis; nor did they seem aware of its presence until their attention was attracted by the slight clanking of the accoutrements of one of the several warriors who sprang from its low cabin as it grounded. Then Sil Vagis wheeled about. For just an instant he stood as though petrified and then as the strange warriors leaped towards him, he turned and fled into the concealing shrubbery of the garden.”
“It is a lie,” cried Sil Vagis.
“Silence, coward!” I commanded.
“Continue, slave!” directed Tor Hatan.
“Sanoma Tora was not aware of the presence of the strange warriors until she was seized roughly from behind. It all happened so quickly that I scarce had time to realize the purpose of the sinister visitation before they laid hands upon her. When I comprehended that my mistress was the object of this night attack, I rushed hurriedly down the ramp, but ere I reached the garden they had dragged her aboard the flier. Even then, however, had I had a sword I might at least have died in the service of Sanoma Tora, for I reached the ship of mystery as the last warrior was clambering aboard. I seized him by the harness and attempted to drag him to the ground, at the same time shouting loudly to attract the palace guard, but ere I did so one of his fellows on the deck above me drew his long sword and struck viciously at my head. The blade caught me but a glancing blow, which, however, sufficed to stun me for a moment, so that I relaxed my hold upon the strange warrior and fell to the sward. When I regained consciousness the ship had gone and the tardy palace guard was pouring from the guard-room. I have spoken—and spoken truthfully.”
Tor Hatan’s cold gaze sought out the lowered eyes of Sil Vagis. “What have you to say to this?” he demanded.
“The fellow is in the employ of Hadron of Hastor,” shouted Sil Vagis. “He speaks nothing but lies. I attacked them when they came, but there were many and they overpowered me. This fellow was not present.”
“Let me see thy head,” I said to the slave, and when he had come and knelt before me I saw a great red welt the length of one side of his head above the ear, just such a welt as a glancing blow from the flat side of a long sword might have made. “Here,” I said to Tor Hatan, pointing to the great welt, “is the proof of a slave’s loyalty and courage. Let us see the wounds received by a noble of Helium who by his own testimony engaged in single-handed combat against great odds. Surely in such an encounter he must have received at least a single scratch.”
“Unless he is as marvellous a swordsman as the great John Carter himself,” said the dwar of the palace guard with a thinly veiled sneer.
“It is all a plot,” cried Sil Vagis. “Do you take the word of a slave, Tor Hatan, against that of a noble of Helium?”
“I rely on the testimony of my eyes and my senses,” replied the Odwar, and he turned his back upon Sil Vagis and again addressed the slave. “Didst thou recognize any of those who abducted Sanoma Tora,” he demanded, “or note their harness or their metal?”
“I got no good look at the face of any of them, but I did see the harness and the metal of him whom I tried to drag from the flier.”
“Was it the metal of Hastor?” asked Tor Hatan.
“By my first ancestor it was not,” replied the slave emphatically; “nor was it the metal of any other city
of the Empire of Helium. The design and the insignia were unknown to me, and yet there was a certain familiarity about them that tantalizes me. I feel that I have seen them before, but when and where I cannot recall. In the service of my Jed I fought invaders from many lands and it may be that upon some of these I saw similar metal many years ago.”
“Are you satisfied, Tor Hatan,” I demanded, “that the aspersions cast upon me by Sil Vagis are without foundation?”
“Yes, Hadron of Hastor,” replied the Odwar.
“Then with your leave I shall depart,” I said.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“To find Sanoma Tora,” I replied.
“And if you find her,” he said, “and return her safely to me, she is yours.”
I made no other acknowledgment of his generous offer than to bow deeply, for I had it in my mind that Sanoma Tora might have something to say about that, and whether she had or not, I wished no mate who came not to me willingly.
Leaping to the deck of the flier that brought me, I rose into the night and sped in the direction of the marble palace of the Warlord of Barsoom, for even though the hour was late, I was determined to see him without an instant’s unnecessary loss of time.
chapter II
BROUGHT DOWN
AS I APPROACHED the Warlord’s palace I saw signs of activity unusual for that hour of the night. Fliers were arriving and departing, and when I alighted upon that portion of the roof reserved for military ships, I saw the fliers of a number of high officers of the Warlord’s staff.
Being a frequent visitor at the palace and being well known by all the officers of the Warlord’s bodyguard, I had no difficulty in gaining admission to the palace, and presently I was waiting in the hall, just off the small compartment in which the Warlord is accustomed to give small, private audiences, while a slave announced me to his master.
I do not know how long I waited. It could not have been a long while, yet it seemed to me a veritable eternity, because my mind was harassed by the conviction that the woman I loved was in dire danger. I was possessed by a conviction, ridiculous perhaps, but none the less real, that I alone could save her and that every instant I was delayed reduced her chances for succour before it was too late.
The Collected John Carter of Mars (Volume 2) Page 57
