A PRELIMINARY SKIRMISH.
The words that had been spoken on both sides in this conversation the
two young men had followed fairly well; though they had listened in
silence and made no attempt to join in the discussion. On their way
back towards the wood, Elwood was at first very thoughtful; then he
turned to Monella and said excitedly,
"How do we know she is safe, out there alone? And what will her father,
the king, say to us, if harm come to her? It seems to me we are acting
in strange fashion to leave her thus."
"Patience, my son," returned Monella quietly; "we must avoid the
shedding of blood, if it be possible. We have come here, as I have
already said, with peaceful motives. If violent acts be forced upon
us in self-defence, let us keep at least our conscience clear; let
us be in a position to show that they _were_ forced upon us. Let it
not be said of us that we have come into a strange land to introduce
dissension, and discord, and internal warfare; and all for no other
reason than the gratification of an adventurous spirit."
"But," said Elwood, "_we_ have not introduced dissension and trouble.
It is clear enough that a terrible murder would have been perpetrated
had we not been here to prevent it. Surely, no one can accuse _us_
of commencing bloodshed; and, as to the rest, why, what are the lives
of two or three scoundrels like these, the infamous myrmidons--if we
may believe what we heard--of a bloodthirsty 'high priest'; what are
the lives of two or three such wretches, compared with the safety of
this gentle, trustful girl, whom we are leaving now almost at their
mercy? In my view this is one of those cases in which offence is the
best defence. They are showing their intentions pretty clearly; let
us anticipate them by shooting one or two. That will frighten the
remainder, and stop further hostile action; and, moreover, prevent
their coming near this young lady, or princess, as I suppose she really
is."
"I am bound to say I rather agree with Leonard," said Templemore. "I
see, clearly enough, we are in for a fight, and shall have to kill two
or three. Why not as well do it first as last? If, as she says, they
are used to do as they please in the land, and if what we have just
seen is a specimen of their style, pity is thrown away upon them. And,
besides, is it good generalship, Monella? To attack first would be sure
to scare them; but, if they make a rush, in absolute ignorance of the
power of our rifles, may they not, some of them, charge home? And then
we should have a hand-to-hand fight where they would be four or five to
one."
Monella passed his hand over his face, and answered almost sadly,
"There is a time to be forward in attack, and a time to be forbearing.
If the time come for the former, no man will ever see me flinch from
it. But you know what has been said, that the shedding of blood is like
unto the letting out of water, and that he who begins it is accursed.
If these people begin it, we will not shrink; but at least we shall
have clear consciences. Now listen to my plan. We must not enter the
wood, or they will think we have fled. If they cross the line I have
laid down, let each take the man opposite to him in the line, and bring
him down. Then, if they still rush on, fire once more, and step back
into the shelter of the wood. If they follow, you know what to do; your
revolvers will suffice."
Meantime, Ulama, as she had called herself, had been addressing the
soldiers. Their officer had advanced to speak to her, and angry talk
had been exchanged, which those standing at the edge of the wood, with
rifles at the 'ready', could not hear. But when, finally, she shook her
head meaningly, and began to retire towards them, Jack Templemore set
his teeth and said,
"I told you so! I knew it meant a fight! We might just as well have
begun it, as let them think we are afraid."
"There is yet a chance," replied Monella. "They may hesitate to pass
the line I have laid down. In any case, all we can now do is to wait
and see." And, as Ulama came towards them, he signed to her to step
aside, out of the line of fire.
The officer had returned to his men, and, after a short consultation
with one who seemed to be next in command, the two ranks advanced, with
the slow, measured tread of a well-disciplined troop, up the slope. On
reaching the dead body they were halted while the two officers examined
it. They had not understood how their leader had been killed; nor did
they understand it now. They had heard the report of the pistol and had
seen their chief fall, but the report had not been a loud one; and as
Elwood had run forward at the time, for all they could see (Ulama being
between them) he might have hurled a spear at Zelus. Yet the sound of
the explosion had puzzled them, and stayed them from rushing instantly
to the assistance of their leader. Altogether, they were perplexed.
The dress of their opponents showed them to be strangers. They appeared
to be unarmed, yet had they killed their dreaded master in the face
of his guard. This argued conscious power; and it behoved them not to
be too precipitate. After this fashion, probably, reasoned the two
officers.
If so, the examination of the dead body could but add to their
uncertainty; for they found there a wound they were quite unable to
account for. It was not a spear thrust; it was not a wound from a sword
or dagger. The scrutiny, in effect, yielded them no enlightenment; but
the sight of the dead body of their leader and of the blood exasperated
both officers and men, and murmurs were heard, and cries for vengeance.
They probably began, too, to remember what Ulama had suggested--that
if they went back with the dead body of their chief and without the
slayer, their own lives would be forfeited. And all this time the
strangers stood calmly regarding them, watchful of their movements, but
offering neither to retreat nor to attack them.
After some further consultation, the one who seemed to be in command
turned towards where the three strangers stood; flinging down his
sword, he stepped forward and threw out both his hands, to signify that
he desired a parley.
Thereupon Monella also advanced a few paces; then paused for the other
to address him.
"Who are you? Whence come you? Why do you enter our land in this
fashion by killing one of the greatest in the country?" asked the
captain of the guard.
"The answers to your first questions are for your king's ear alone,"
returned Monella. "As to the last, we came in peace, but interfered to
save a maiden from being murdered."
The other's face expressed an evil sneer, and he made answer:
"It is not usual, with us, for men to throw away their lives for
women. For what you have done yours may be required. Still," he added
diplomatically, "I am not judge nor executioner--unless you resist me.
If, therefore, you will surrender like men of peace--as you say you
are--and will come with me to tell your tale to my master, I promise
you good treatment while in my custody."
Monella shook his head.
"You have had my answer," he said. "We seek your king. We will yield
ourselves to no one else. And," he continued, with louder voice, "since
you, my friend, dare to deride us for taking a woman's part, know that
in the land we come from we are not accustomed to stand still and look
on while women are being murdered. What manner of _men_ are _ye_ who
dare openly proclaim so vile a doctrine? Soldiers of a High Priest?
Guardians of a 'religion' that teaches things like this? The span
that shall be left to such a being as ye serve is growing short. His
power is waning, his days are even now numbered." He raised his arm,
and extended it towards him he was addressing; then, with gathering
force, and even passion, till he seemed like an inspired prophet of
old thundering his denunciations against evil-doers--"We came here in
goodwill and peace; we may remain to be a withering scourge to you and
him you call your master. See to it, and take warning! There must--and
there _shall_--be an end of such deeds as we have this day seen
attempted by--as ye have no shame in avowing--the favoured son of your
High Priest. Hence from my sight, ere scorn and anger overcome me! I
have but to move my finger, and you fall dead before me!"
For the first time in their knowledge of him Templemore and Elwood saw
their leader, usually so calm and equable, moved by a passion that was
almost uncontrollable. They glanced at one another in surprise; and
well indeed they might. For whereas, at first, they had felt almost
impatient of his equanimity, and had feared he lacked the sternness to
deal with those they were opposed to, yet now they thought only how to
restrain his sudden and unlooked-for passion, lest it should embroil
them further than was actually necessary.
But the fire of Monella's rage expired as suddenly as it had kindled.
"You have heard," he went on, coldly and disdainfully, to the captain
of the hostile group. "I have warned you. I spare your life to give you
time to do better."
But this contemptuous treatment, so far from having the effect
intended, seemed to rouse the other's fury.
"Think not to impose on me by empty threats and vain-glorious
boasting," he retorted. "I summon you to yield and come with me. If
not, and we have to kill you in striving to enforce obedience, the
consequences be upon your own heads."
"And I say that I have warned _you_," returned Monella quietly. He
stooped and picked up a stone, then threw it to within three or four
feet of the cord that lay between them.
"If," he said, "you but cross that cord so far as that stone, you die."
Instantly the other took up the challenge. He stepped back for his
sword, then walked boldly forward, Monella meanwhile falling back in
line with his companions; but the instant the other crossed the cord,
Monella's rifle rang out, and the fatuous soldier fell prone upon the
sward.
Then a tall fellow burst from the ranks and, brandishing his spear,
rushed towards the fatal cord; he was followed by an adventurous
comrade; but, e'en as they stepped across the line, they both bit the
dust. Then all the others turned and fled; all save the second officer,
who stood his ground, neither advancing nor retreating. He remained
leaning on his sword, and looked, by turns, first at his flying men,
then at the dead bodies that lay around him, finally at Monella and his
companions.
Monella advanced and thus addressed him,
"How is it you stand thus in hesitation, friend? Are you in two minds,
whether to fight or to fly?"
The second officer was a fine-looking young fellow with features that
were not unpleasing. With a steady glance he looked Monella in the face
and answered,
"I am no coward to run away, and no fool to rush to meet a thunderbolt.
Whoever you are, it is plain that we are powerless against you. But
indeed," he went on, with something almost like a sigh, "when I heard
your words I felt no stomach to fight against you, if so be that they
are true."
"I am well pleased to hear you say so, friend," Monella said, laying
his hand upon the other's shoulder. "You have seen what it is in our
power to do. I call upon you to be a witness in the presence of your
king--of all your people--that we did not resort to force until all
other means had failed."
"That will I gladly do," returned the officer, bending his head in
courteous salutation. "Few would have been so persistent in their
merciful intention. For myself, I know my fate if I rejoin my master;
therefore, if you will accept my service, I would fain join myself to
you. One can but fight and die; better to do so in the service of such
a chief as you, than of him I have lately served," and he seemed to
shudder while he spoke.
Just then the maiden joined them, and he saluted her respectfully. She
looked at him with sorrowful eyes.
"And is it Ergalon," she said, "that could stand by to-day and see
another man raise his hand to slay the daughter of his king, and not
move a step to hinder him? Has Ergalon indeed sunk so low as this?"
The words were said in pained surprise rather than in anger; and in the
gentle eyes she turned upon him there was no sign of aught but mild
reproach. But this seemed to cut him to the heart, when ringing words
of accusation would, perhaps, have failed to move him. He fell upon one
knee and bent his head.
"Alas! Princess," he cried, "I well deserve your scorn; yet knowest
thou not how that against my will I have been forced into this service.
Well I know that to ask pardon would be useless--the king will never
pardon, should this reach his ears; still less will Coryon. Yet I care
not if thou wilt but grant me _thy_ forgiveness. If these strangers are
thy friends, grant me to serve thee by serving them; and should this
service be even to death, it will content me that thou shouldst say of
me that Ergalon had done his duty, and redeemed himself in thine eyes."
"Be it so, Ergalon," Ulama answered, her voice and manner charged with
a sweet graciousness that quite captivated the three bystanders. Then,
turning to Monella, she continued, "My father, I owe you much for what
you have done to-day. I shall try in the future to repay you to some
measure. Meantime you will need friends--accept from Ergalon this
proffered service. I feel sure, after what has happened, you may trust
him--even to the death. I know not who you are, whether immortals, or
beings of like nature to myself, thus timely sent by the Great Spirit
to my aid. But this I know, that I may trust you; that you have come
to be my friends, and my friends from henceforth you shall be."
It would be difficult to convey an idea of the wonderful mixture of
simple gentleness and queenly dignity with which these words were
spoken. Further, it would be hard to say which of her hearers was most
impressed. She had the art of winning hearts without intending or
desiring it; and few could long resist the fascination of her presence.
Small wonder then if Leonard Elwood had already fallen incontinently,
helplessly, irretrievably in love.
"And now," she finished, "I invite you to my home, where my father will
bid you welcome."
"And these?" Monella asked, pointing to the dead bodies.
"Ergalon will know what to do," she answered; and moved away in the
direction she had indicated.
But by this time a small crowd was on its way to meet them. Those
forming it were, as it appeared, chiefly her maidens and attendants and
a file of soldiers--her guards. They looked curiously at the strangers,
but, at a sign from her, fell in respectfully behind the little party.
"Doubtless you marvel," she observed to Elwood and Monella, between
whom she walked, "how it comes about that with all these people to
attend and guard me, I was alone this morning. But for that chance the
dead Zelus had never found his opportunity of saying that he did to me.
He must have been watching for it; perchance had heard that I sometimes
like to steal away alone for a little ramble. One gets so tired of
always having people around one," she added, with an almost childish
wilfulness. "But this will cure me. For the future I shall be more
careful."
Templemore, meantime, strolling along behind the others, found himself
somehow placed between Ergalon and a dainty little damsel whose name,
he afterwards found, was Zonella. She was Ulama's close friend, and was
most busy plying Ergalon with questions about what had taken place. At
the noise of the firing they had rushed out in alarm; then, missing the
princess, had set out to seek her. In reply to her inquiries, Ergalon
gloomily referred her to Templemore, and on this slender introduction
the two soon found themselves in friendly converse, rather to the
increase of their companion's moodiness.
It was well for Templemore that day that his affections were
unalterably fixed upon a chosen fair one; else, inevitably, had he lost
his heart either to the fair Ulama or to the dark-eyed, captivating
Zonella. As it was, he was compelled to own that he had never seen
two more fascinating maidens--save--save, of course, Maud Kingsford.
In that reservation--and in that alone--lay the salvation of his
heart. But this Ergalon knew not; and since he had long ardently--but
vainly--sought the favour of Zonella, he was none too pleased to see
her so quickly place herself on friendly terms with a total stranger.
But Templemore's acquaintance with the language was so limited, that
his part in the conversation consisted more in listening than in
talking; and his thoughts were more concerned in observing all that
went on around him than in studying Zonella herself.