ON THE 'DEVIL-TREE'S LADLE!'
When Coryon sat down, a kind of buzzing or hum or talk in low tones
broke out on all sides. Exclamations and expressions of astonishment
were heard, for never had such audacity been known in a prisoner
standing thus on the very brink of death and almost within reach of the
clutch of the fatal tree.
Leonard was now bound again, and Dakla sent two or three of his
subordinate officers to stand beside him. But, even while they bound
him, the guards, as he could hardly fail to see, treated him with a
measure of involuntary respect; and well they might, for there was not
one amongst them that durst look the evil Coryon in the face.
Then was brought out the contrivance called the 'devil-tree's ladle';
it was simply a long plank widened out at one end, and mounted, in the
centre, on wheels. An irrepressible shudder passed through Leonard when
he saw this grim apparatus. But there was little outward sign of his
emotion, and his eyes were soon again fixed on Coryon, who rose and
thus addressed those present,
"Friends, ye all see here a confirmation of that which I have already
explained unto you this morning. Yonder stands one of the strangers
whom the king hath admitted to his friendship; the man he was about
to honour by alliance with his royal house. Ye can see for yourselves
the untutored passions by which this youth, who was, forsooth, to have
been your future king, is swayed, and his lack of seemly behaviour in
the presence of one like myself, who hath for so many years held a
high position in the land, and hath conferred so many benefits upon
it. Not the least of these, my friends, is that which I have just
achieved--only just in time. I have, with the joint help of those
powerful gods whom we all here serve, been able to defeat and overcome
even the magic with which these men were armed. Ye all know, or have
heard, how they came provided, by some enemies of our race outside the
country, with magic wands that brought down lightning and thunder and
death upon those opposed to them; and to their seeming power the king
weakly yielded, and allowed these strangers to assume high stations
in the land. Zelus, my well-beloved son, early fell a victim to their
lawless intrusion into our domains, as did many of my people whom I
sent to capture them. But in the end I have prevailed against them; I
have taken from them their magic wands, and now they are, as ye all can
see, but ordinary men. But a punishment hath fallen upon the king, for
he is sick to death, and that is why he is not here to-day. He hath
not long to live, and soon the country will be without a king. Now it
seemeth to me certain that the people are averse from accepting this
young stranger as the successor to their dying ruler, and that they
desire one of their own race. This hath caused me much anxious thought,
but I have at last, I think, discovered a solution of the difficulty.
_I_ will espouse the Princess Ulama, and become the king's son-in-law;
thus will your minds be set at rest; for ye will know that whenever the
king dieth he will be succeeded by a ruler who is not only of your own
race, but hath served his country long enough to satisfy all objectors
as to his experience, or his ability, or his solicitude for the welfare
of his native land."
While uttering these words, Coryon looked with a hardly-veiled smile of
malice at Leonard, who, listening to the infamous proposal wrapped up
in such unblushing hypocrisy, started as though he would have rushed
again upon the speaker; but he was held too firmly by those who now
surrounded him. He could scarce keep from groaning aloud at what he had
just heard.
Coryon marked with evident satisfaction this effect of his
announcement, and proceeded, in an unctuous voice, and with an
affectation of great resignation,
"In doing this, good friends, I have, I assure you, no thought, no
feeling save the welfare of my country. I had not thought ever to take
to me another wife; though I had looked with favour upon the desire of
my son Zelus to ally himself with our king's daughter. But, since this
young stranger hath rendered that impossible by slaying treacherously
mine only son, I will accept the necessities of the situation, and
sacrifice my own feelings for the general good. Perhaps, after all,
it is as well; for in me ye will have, as ye all know well, one who
thinks always only of his people's weal. For long ages I have guarded
the land from outward foes by making friends of the powers of darkness.
This, and this alone hath protected us from invasion by the hordes of
wild men that we know exist beyond our borders. The powers, whose High
Priest I am, have guarded us through many centuries, and have planted
around the limits of our island a forest impenetrable and filled with
terrible creatures for our protection. True, they let these strangers
through, but only as a warning of that which might befall if we forgot,
even for a moment, our religion, or rebelled against the sacrifices
it requires and that our gods look for from us and will insist upon.
True, we have to sacrifice some of those we love to our sacred tree,
but what is that compared with the benefits and advantages that the
rest receive? We have peace, prosperity, contentment, freedom from
invasion, from wars, from enemies and dangers of all kinds; and,
compared with these, the price that hath to be paid is, after all, but
small. Henceforth, too, there will be a stronger guarantee for peace
throughout the land, in that your king and the head of your religion
will be one. And you, my faithful followers, who have served me well,"
continued the arch-hypocrite, casting his eyes around, "will no more
be called upon to reside in the rocky fastness that has been so long
our home; for I shall take up my abode in the palace of the king and
there shall ye all follow me." At this a loud cheer went up from all.
"And now to more immediate duties. I have condemned this murderer of my
son to death; he shall end his life befittingly as a sacrifice to the
gods whose power he hath defied in coming here--defied only to his own
doom. So shall perish all who brave me; and so shall perish this man's
friends, his murderous abettors who, too, are in my power. And now,
sirrah, if thou hast aught to say, thou hast just a minute. If thou
hast aught to ask me, now is thy final opportunity."
When he ceased speaking, Coryon sat down, first casting at Leonard a
hideous glance of triumph. Leonard saw the sneer and knew that his
enemy's desire was to excite him to a farther display of useless anger;
but the knowledge only served to calm him, and, when he spoke, it was
in a voice that had in it neither bitterness nor passion, but only a
great sadness. He did not wish to gratify Coryon by exhibiting anger;
and thus he spoke,
"It is true I have something I would say, but it is not to thee, O
Coryon, but to those who are not Coryon's degraded servants, but free
agents, who have been misled into supporting him here to-day. To you,
good people, I address myself." And Leonard cast his eyes around upon
those who were not wearers of Coryon's uniform. "I have much to say and
much to ask. Know that the power of this boastful tyrant who declares
with mock humility his wicked purpose to force the youthful daughter
of his king into an alliance that revolts her--know, good people,
that his power is almost at an end, and that he will never enter into
that palace, in which he has promised to find place for his credulous
followers. He may kill me if he will, but my death will naught avail;
a few hours hence he will be either a prisoner in the hands of those
who came with me, or hiding in his underground haunts like a hunted
animal that dares not show its face above the ground. But the end will
be the same. He will quickly be hurled out, and a terrible punishment
will be meted out to him and to all those who abet him--every one,
that is, who shall support him. Therefore I say this to you, when
my friends come--as come they will--do not help Coryon's myrmidons
against them. They will come armed with a fearful power that you can
scarce conceive; you shall see the very rocks fall away before them in
crashing thunders as they hunt these rats out of their holes. If you
fight on Coryon's side, they will mow you down like grass before the
scythe. On the other hand, if you side not with these doomed ones, but,
instead, ask for mercy, you shall find it; for we came not to this land
to teach cruelty and murder, but to deliver it from the tyranny that
has so long oppressed it. That is my advice to you; what I would ask is
that you tell your fellow-citizens that I am sore distressed in that
I have done far less than I might to win their affections and their
confidence. That I have made a terrible mistake, that it has led me to
this situation, I now see. But my error I shall expiate with my life;
when I am dead, and you see the benefits my friends will shower on the
land, then tell all that I was of the same mind, and was full of naught
but kindly feelings. But--my great--love for one so fair--as your
young--princess--took up my thoughts, perhaps, more than should have
been the case." Leonard's voice almost failed him here; but by a strong
effort he recovered himself and went on. "That is all that I would ask;
let them remember me and think kindly of me. You will see in those days
who has spoken truly--whether I, or Coryon. You will know how false has
been every word he has said to you to-day. Even what he says about my
friends is false; they are _not_ in his power, nor has he deprived them
of their magic power, as you will all quickly see. To say that by his
atrocious so-called religious rites he has guarded and advanced this
country is a lie----"
"Silence!" exclaimed Coryon, who had all this time been moving
restlessly in his seat.
"I come from a land--the greatest on the earth--that has an empire
upon which the sun ne'er sets; we have no such wicked murders called
sacrifices; yet we are safe against our enemies, and----"
"Silence, I tell thee! What think'st thou we care about thy country or
thyself?" Coryon burst out.
"I say," Leonard went on, disregarding him, "that every word this man
utters is a lie. He cannot say one single sentence without uttering a
lie----"
"If thou sayest more, I will have thee scourged as well as killed,"
Coryon cried, in growing rage. "It speaketh well to these good people
for my patience that I have let thee have thy say thus far. Never, for
many a year, has mortal dared to flout me to my face as thou hast
done."
"O Coryon!" Leonard exclaimed, turning and facing him, "truly did I say
that thou could'st not speak one single sentence without uttering some
lie, and now thou art convicted. For I know of one, at least, that has
flouted and dared thee to thy face; one whose spirit thou couldst not
quell; and she but a woman--her name Fernina!"
At this a perfect howl of rage escaped from Coryon's lips. He sprang up
and clutched at the air, and gasped; and, for a moment, Leonard half
thought he would have a fit. But he recovered himself, and shouted, in
a screaming voice,
"Seize him! Gag him! Lay him on the feeding-ladle of our sacred tree!
We will see how he fancies its embrace!" Then, turning round and
addressing some one near him, he cried out,
"Bring forward the princess, that she may witness this my act of
justice towards the murderer she would have taken to her bosom. Let my
future wife look on. Ha! ha! ha! My future wife! How dost thou like the
title, murderer of my son, and would-be king?"
His rage was something fearful to behold; many even of his own
myrmidons trembled, and they made speed to do his bidding.
Leonard was seized and bound to the wheeled plank, and, after trying
in vain to turn his head to take one last look at Ulama, he closed his
eyes and resigned himself to prayer. At the same time Ulama, looking
but the mere ghost of her former self, was led to the side of Coryon's
chair between two women, and forced to look upon the dreadful scene. At
the sight of Leonard bound to the fatal plank, and the grim tree with
its restless branches ever twisting in avid hunger for their prey, a
look of stony horror came over her face; she gave one gasping, sobbing
cry, and fell back unconscious.
[Illustration: ON THE DEVIL-TREE'S LADLE.
[_Page 297._]
For some moments Coryon paused; he was inclined to wait till Ulama
should be restored to consciousness, for he wanted to prolong the
torture of the lovers somewhat before finally consigning Leonard to his
fate; but his fury mastered him, and he gave the signal to the two men
holding one end of the plank to push it out along the stone pier.
They had just begun to move it when a shot was heard, and one of them
fell to the ground; and Leonard, turning his head, saw Templemore, high
on the rocks above, kneeling with his rifle at his shoulder.
Coryon saw it too, and, with a shout, and many threats, urged the other
man to push out the plank; but, instead, he started back in terror, and
only just in time to escape a second bullet that came singing past his
ears and wounded a soldier standing near.
Coryon, mad with rage and disappointed malice, snatched a spear from
a soldier beside him, and ordered others in front of him to seize
the plank and push it out, prodding at them with the spear to force
obedience; but one, who stepped forward at his bidding, fell before
he could reach the plank. Meantime, Templemore, followed by Ergalon
and the brave Zonella, had come leaping down from ledge to ledge,
threatening all who barred his way, and shooting down one or two who
tried to stop him. He now stood, a revolver in each hand, at the end of
the plank, and there he kept a circle around him, while Ergalon cut the
cords by which Leonard was bound, released the cloth that had been tied
round his mouth to gag him, and helped him to his feet. Immediately he
rushed to Templemore.
"Give me a rifle, Jack! Let me shoot down that son of Satan and rid the
earth of him for ever."
Ergalon was carrying three rifles, the one Templemore had been using
and two spare ones; one of these he handed now to Leonard.
But, in the interval, Coryon's chief officer, Dakla, had taken in the
situation; and having already had experience of the weapons with which
he saw Templemore was armed, had advised Coryon to retreat into the
covered-way.
"It is useless to stay here, my lord," he said. "Thou wilt surely be
killed! Haste to the shelter while there is yet time! There I think
thou wilt be safe. If not, thou canst retreat within the gates."
"Dost think the danger is so great, good Dakla?" Coryon asked,
incredulously.
"I am sure of it, my lord. Haste thee--and take some soldiers with thee
and keep them between thee and thine enemies, or thou wilt never reach
the shelter alive. I will leave some men here and take others up on to
the rocks above, whence we can hurl down great stones upon them. Haply,
if no more come, we may yet prevail against these."
Coryon and his priests and immediate followers hastened away,
accordingly, leaving the still unconscious Ulama, in charge of the two
women, behind his chair. He was only just in time, for a soldier he
forced to walk beside him fell by a shot from Leonard's rifle a moment
before they gained the shelter of the covered-way.
Leonard saw the women beside Coryon's chair, and, though he knew
not that Ulama was lying there unconscious, he guessed she was near
the spot; therefore he feared to fire more shots in that direction;
while he knew it would be useless to fire at the iron-work of the
covered-way. For a space, therefore, there was a pause; but soon
Dakla's men appeared on the rocks above them and began to roll down
stones and boulders.
The position of the little band was now becoming critical. To retreat,
leaving Ulama in the hands of Coryon, was not to be conceived. Yet they
could not advance, for a compact body of men stood ready to receive
them; and at these they durst not fire lest they might hit Ulama or
one of her attendants. Yet every minute they stayed where they were
increased their danger. Great masses of rock, started by persons above
who showed only an arm or hand above the ridge, came crashing down and
shooting past them. And, when a head was raised above it here and there
to take a hurried aim, it was seen only for a second, and gave little
opportunity for a shot.
They had had two or three narrow escapes, and had avoided injury
only by leaping out of the path of the rocks that came crashing and
bounding down. Jack urged Zonella to go back, but she stoutly refused;
and he was at his wits' end what course to take, when loud shouting
was heard in the direction of the entrance of the enclosure. Soon, a
rush of armed men in red tunics came along the roadway at the rear of
the black-coated soldiers standing around Coryon's chair. Instantly
Coryon's men gave way, and rushed across the terrace towards the
covered-way; while the red-coated men poured in and spread themselves
out on either side.
And now could be seen men carrying flags and banners, and amongst them
two of mighty stature; one of them, the taller, dressed in the coat
of mail and the helmet with silver wings that had been preserved so
long in the museum and that was said to have belonged to the legendary
Mellenda. He wore, too, the great sword that belonged to the suit, and
it seemed, upon his towering form, to be of no more than usual and
proportionate size.
As this majestic figure came more closely into view, accompanied
by Colenna and some others of the king's officers, Leonard and
Templemore's astonishment were great at recognising no other than their
friend Monella!