CHAPTER XIV
A DUEL TO THE DEATH
My first impulse was to tell her of my love, and then I thought of thehelplessness of her position wherein I alone could lighten the burdensof her captivity, and protect her in my poor way against the thousandsof hereditary enemies she must face upon our arrival at Thark. I couldnot chance causing her additional pain or sorrow by declaring a lovewhich, in all probability she did not return. Should I be soindiscreet, her position would be even more unbearable than now, andthe thought that she might feel that I was taking advantage of herhelplessness, to influence her decision was the final argument whichsealed my lips.
"Why are you so quiet, Dejah Thoris?" I asked. "Possibly you wouldrather return to Sola and your quarters."
"No," she murmured, "I am happy here. I do not know why it is that Ishould always be happy and contented when you, John Carter, a stranger,are with me; yet at such times it seems that I am safe and that, withyou, I shall soon return to my father's court and feel his strong armsabout me and my mother's tears and kisses on my cheek."
"Do people kiss, then, upon Barsoom?" I asked, when she had explainedthe word she used, in answer to my inquiry as to its meaning.
"Parents, brothers, and sisters, yes; and," she added in a low,thoughtful tone, "lovers."
"And you, Dejah Thoris, have parents and brothers and sisters?"
"Yes."
"And a--lover?"
She was silent, nor could I venture to repeat the question.
"The man of Barsoom," she finally ventured, "does not ask personalquestions of women, except his mother, and the woman he has fought forand won."
"But I have fought--" I started, and then I wished my tongue had beencut from my mouth; for she turned even as I caught myself and ceased,and drawing my silks from her shoulder she held them out to me, andwithout a word, and with head held high, she moved with the carriage ofthe queen she was toward the plaza and the doorway of her quarters.
I did not attempt to follow her, other than to see that she reached thebuilding in safety, but, directing Woola to accompany her, I turneddisconsolately and entered my own house. I sat for hours cross-legged,and cross-tempered, upon my silks meditating upon the queer freakschance plays upon us poor devils of mortals.
So this was love! I had escaped it for all the years I had roamed thefive continents and their encircling seas; in spite of beautiful womenand urging opportunity; in spite of a half-desire for love and aconstant search for my ideal, it had remained for me to fall furiouslyand hopelessly in love with a creature from another world, of a speciessimilar possibly, yet not identical with mine. A woman who was hatchedfrom an egg, and whose span of life might cover a thousand years; whosepeople had strange customs and ideas; a woman whose hopes, whosepleasures, whose standards of virtue and of right and wrong might varyas greatly from mine as did those of the green Martians.
Yes, I was a fool, but I was in love, and though I was suffering thegreatest misery I had ever known I would not have had it otherwise forall the riches of Barsoom. Such is love, and such are lovers whereverlove is known.
To me, Dejah Thoris was all that was perfect; all that was virtuous andbeautiful and noble and good. I believed that from the bottom of myheart, from the depth of my soul on that night in Korad as I satcross-legged upon my silks while the nearer moon of Barsoom racedthrough the western sky toward the horizon, and lighted up the gold andmarble, and jeweled mosaics of my world-old chamber, and I believe ittoday as I sit at my desk in the little study overlooking the Hudson.Twenty years have intervened; for ten of them I lived and fought forDejah Thoris and her people, and for ten I have lived upon her memory.
The morning of our departure for Thark dawned clear and hot, as do allMartian mornings except for the six weeks when the snow melts at thepoles.
I sought out Dejah Thoris in the throng of departing chariots, but sheturned her shoulder to me, and I could see the red blood mount to hercheek. With the foolish inconsistency of love I held my peace when Imight have pled ignorance of the nature of my offense, or at least thegravity of it, and so have effected, at worst, a half conciliation.
I sought out Dejah Thoris in the throng of departingchariots.]
My duty dictated that I must see that she was comfortable, and so Iglanced into her chariot and rearranged her silks and furs. In doingso I noted with horror that she was heavily chained by one ankle to theside of the vehicle.
"What does this mean?" I cried, turning to Sola.
"Sarkoja thought it best," she answered, her face betokening herdisapproval of the procedure.
Examining the manacles I saw that they fastened with a massive springlock.
"Where is the key, Sola? Let me have it."
"Sarkoja wears it, John Carter," she answered.
I turned without further word and sought out Tars Tarkas, to whom Ivehemently objected to the unnecessary humiliations and cruelties, asthey seemed to my lover's eyes, that were being heaped upon DejahThoris.
"John Carter," he answered, "if ever you and Dejah Thoris escape theTharks it will be upon this journey. We know that you will not gowithout her. You have shown yourself a mighty fighter, and we do notwish to manacle you, so we hold you both in the easiest way that willyet ensure security. I have spoken."
I saw the strength of his reasoning at a flash, and knew that it wasfutile to appeal from his decision, but I asked that the key be takenfrom Sarkoja and that she be directed to leave the prisoner alone infuture.
"This much, Tars Tarkas, you may do for me in return for the friendshipthat, I must confess, I feel for you."
"Friendship?" he replied. "There is no such thing, John Carter; buthave your will. I shall direct that Sarkoja cease to annoy the girl,and I myself will take the custody of the key."
"Unless you wish me to assume the responsibility," I said, smiling.
He looked at me long and earnestly before he spoke.
"Were you to give me your word that neither you nor Dejah Thoris wouldattempt to escape until after we have safely reached the court of TalHajus you might have the key and throw the chains into the river Iss."
"It was better that you held the key, Tars Tarkas," I replied
He smiled, and said no more, but that night as we were making camp Isaw him unfasten Dejah Thoris' fetters himself.
With all his cruel ferocity and coldness there was an undercurrent ofsomething in Tars Tarkas which he seemed ever battling to subdue.Could it be a vestige of some human instinct come back from an ancientforbear to haunt him with the horror of his people's ways!
As I was approaching Dejah Thoris' chariot I passed Sarkoja, and theblack, venomous look she accorded me was the sweetest balm I had feltfor many hours. Lord, how she hated me! It bristled from her sopalpably that one might almost have cut it with a sword.
A few moments later I saw her deep in conversation with a warrior namedZad; a big, hulking, powerful brute, but one who had never made a killamong his own chieftains, and so was still an _o mad_, or man withone name; he could win a second name only with the metal of somechieftain. It was this custom which entitled me to the names of eitherof the chieftains I had killed; in fact, some of the warriors addressedme as Dotar Sojat, a combination of the surnames of the two warriorchieftains whose metal I had taken, or, in other words, whom I hadslain in fair fight.
As Sarkoja talked with Zad he cast occasional glances in my direction,while she seemed to be urging him very strongly to some action. I paidlittle attention to it at the time, but the next day I had good reasonto recall the circumstances, and at the same time gain a slight insightinto the depths of Sarkoja's hatred and the lengths to which she wascapable of going to wreak her horrid vengeance on me.
Dejah Thoris would have none of me again on this evening, and though Ispoke her name she neither replied, nor conceded by so much as theflutter of an eyelid that she realized my existence. In my extremity Idid what most other lovers would have done; I sought word from herthrough an intimate. In this
instance it was Sola whom I interceptedin another part of camp.
"What is the matter with Dejah Thoris?" I blurted out at her. "Whywill she not speak to me?"
Sola seemed puzzled herself, as though such strange actions on the partof two humans were quite beyond her, as indeed they were, poor child.
"She says you have angered her, and that is all she will say, exceptthat she is the daughter of a jed and the granddaughter of a jeddak andshe has been humiliated by a creature who could not polish the teeth ofher grandmother's sorak."
I pondered over this report for some time, finally asking, "What mighta sorak be, Sola?"
"A little animal about as big as my hand, which the red Martian womenkeep to play with," explained Sola.
Not fit to polish the teeth of her grandmother's cat! I must rankpretty low in the consideration of Dejah Thoris, I thought; but I couldnot help laughing at the strange figure of speech, so homely and inthis respect so earthly. It made me homesick, for it sounded very muchlike "not fit to polish her shoes." And then commenced a train ofthought quite new to me. I began to wonder what my people at home weredoing. I had not seen them for years. There was a family of Cartersin Virginia who claimed close relationship with me; I was supposed tobe a great uncle, or something of the kind equally foolish. I couldpass anywhere for twenty-five to thirty years of age, and to be a greatuncle always seemed the height of incongruity, for my thoughts andfeelings were those of a boy. There were two little kiddies in theCarter family whom I had loved and who had thought there was no one onEarth like Uncle Jack; I could see them just as plainly, as I stoodthere under the moonlit skies of Barsoom, and I longed for them as Ihad never longed for any mortals before. By nature a wanderer, I hadnever known the true meaning of the word home, but the great hall ofthe Carters had always stood for all that the word did mean to me, andnow my heart turned toward it from the cold and unfriendly peoples Ihad been thrown amongst. For did not even Dejah Thoris despise me! Iwas a low creature, so low in fact that I was not even fit to polishthe teeth of her grandmother's cat; and then my saving sense of humorcame to my rescue, and laughing I turned into my silks and furs andslept upon the moon-haunted ground the sleep of a tired and healthyfighting man.
We broke camp the next day at an early hour and marched with only asingle halt until just before dark. Two incidents broke thetediousness of the march. About noon we espied far to our right whatwas evidently an incubator, and Lorquas Ptomel directed Tars Tarkas toinvestigate it. The latter took a dozen warriors, including myself,and we raced across the velvety carpeting of moss to the littleenclosure.
It was indeed an incubator, but the eggs were very small in comparisonwith those I had seen hatching in ours at the time of my arrival onMars.
Tars Tarkas dismounted and examined the enclosure minutely, finallyannouncing that it belonged to the green men of Warhoon and that thecement was scarcely dry where it had been walled up.
"They cannot be a day's march ahead of us," he exclaimed, the light ofbattle leaping to his fierce face.
The work at the incubator was short indeed. The warriors tore open theentrance and a couple of them, crawling in, soon demolished all theeggs with their short-swords. Then remounting we dashed back to jointhe cavalcade. During the ride I took occasion to ask Tars Tarkas ifthese Warhoons whose eggs we had destroyed were a smaller people thanhis Tharks.
"I noticed that their eggs were so much smaller than those I sawhatching in your incubator," I added.
He explained that the eggs had just been placed there; but, like allgreen Martian eggs, they would grow during the five-year period ofincubation until they obtained the size of those I had seen hatching onthe day of my arrival on Barsoom. This was indeed an interesting pieceof information, for it had always seemed remarkable to me that thegreen Martian women, large as they were, could bring forth suchenormous eggs as I had seen the four-foot infants emerging from. As amatter of fact, the new-laid egg is but little larger than an ordinarygoose egg, and as it does not commence to grow until subjected to thelight of the sun the chieftains have little difficulty in transportingseveral hundreds of them at one time from the storage vaults to theincubators.
Shortly after the incident of the Warhoon eggs we halted to rest theanimals, and it was during this halt that the second of the day'sinteresting episodes occurred. I was engaged in changing my ridingcloths from one of my thoats to the other, for I divided the day's workbetween them, when Zad approached me, and without a word struck myanimal a terrific blow with his long-sword.
I did not need a manual of green Martian etiquette to know what replyto make, for, in fact, I was so wild with anger that I could scarcelyrefrain from drawing my pistol and shooting him down for the brute hewas; but he stood waiting with drawn long-sword, and my only choice wasto draw my own and meet him in fair fight with his choice of weapons ora lesser one.
This latter alternative is always permissible, therefore I could haveused my short-sword, my dagger, my hatchet, or my fists had I wished,and been entirely within my rights, but I could not use firearms or aspear while he held only his long-sword.
I chose the same weapon he had drawn because I knew he prided himselfupon his ability with it, and I wished, if I worsted him at all, to doit with his own weapon. The fight that followed was a long one anddelayed the resumption of the march for an hour. The entire communitysurrounded us, leaving a clear space about one hundred feet in diameterfor our battle.
Zad first attempted to rush me down as a bull might a wolf, but I wasmuch too quick for him, and each time I side-stepped his rushes hewould go lunging past me, only to receive a nick from my sword upon hisarm or back. He was soon streaming blood from a half dozen minorwounds, but I could not obtain an opening to deliver an effectivethrust. Then he changed his tactics, and fighting warily and withextreme dexterity, he tried to do by science what he was unable to doby brute strength. I must admit that he was a magnificent swordsman,and had it not been for my greater endurance and the remarkable agilitythe lesser gravitation of Mars lent me I might not have been able toput up the creditable fight I did against him.
We circled for some time without doing much damage on either side; thelong, straight, needle-like swords flashing in the sunlight, andringing out upon the stillness as they crashed together with eacheffective parry. Finally Zad, realizing that he was tiring more thanI, evidently decided to close in and end the battle in a final blaze ofglory for himself; just as he rushed me a blinding flash of lightstruck full in my eyes, so that I could not see his approach and couldonly leap blindly to one side in an effort to escape the mighty bladethat it seemed I could already feel in my vitals. I was only partiallysuccessful, as a sharp pain in my left shoulder attested, but in thesweep of my glance as I sought to again locate my adversary, a sightmet my astonished gaze which paid me well for the wound the temporaryblindness had caused me. There, upon Dejah Thoris' chariot stood threefigures, for the purpose evidently of witnessing the encounter abovethe heads of the intervening Tharks. There were Dejah Thoris, Sola,and Sarkoja, and as my fleeting glance swept over them a little tableauwas presented which will stand graven in my memory to the day of mydeath.
As I looked, Dejah Thoris turned upon Sarkoja with the fury of a youngtigress and struck something from her upraised hand; something whichflashed in the sunlight as it spun to the ground. Then I knew what hadblinded me at that crucial moment of the fight, and how Sarkoja hadfound a way to kill me without herself delivering the final thrust.Another thing I saw, too, which almost lost my life for me then andthere, for it took my mind for the fraction of an instant entirely frommy antagonist; for, as Dejah Thoris struck the tiny mirror from herhand, Sarkoja, her face livid with hatred and baffled rage, whipped outher dagger and aimed a terrific blow at Dejah Thoris; and then Sola,our dear and faithful Sola, sprang between them; the last I saw was thegreat knife descending upon her shielding breast.
My enemy had recovered from his thrust and was making it extremelyinteresting for me, so
I reluctantly gave my attention to the work inhand, but my mind was not upon the battle.
We rushed each other furiously time after time, 'til suddenly, feelingthe sharp point of his sword at my breast in a thrust I could neitherparry nor escape, I threw myself upon him with outstretched sword andwith all the weight of my body, determined that I would not die aloneif I could prevent it. I felt the steel tear into my chest, all wentblack before me, my head whirled in dizziness, and I felt my kneesgiving beneath me.
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