Tarzan had thought, when he went without objection into the prison cell
at Cathne, that the next morning he would be questioned and released,
or at least be taken from the cell; and once out of the cell again,
Tarzan had no intention of returning to it, the lord of the jungle
being very certain of his own prowess.
But they had not let him out the next morning nor the next nor the
next. Perhaps he might have made a break for liberty when food was
brought; but each time he thought that the next day would bring his
release, and waited.
Imprisonment of any nature galled him, but this experience was rendered
infinitely more irksome by the presence of Phobeg. The man annoyed
Tarzan; he was ignorant, a braggart, and inclined to be quarrelsome.
In the interests of peace the ape-man had tolerated more from his
cell-mate than he would have under ordinary circumstances; and Phobeg,
being what he was, had assumed that the other's toleration was prompted
by fear. Believing this, he became more arrogant and overbearing,
ignorant of the fact that he was playing with death.
Phobeg had been imprisoned longer than had Tarzan, and the confinement
was making him moody. Sometimes he sat for hours staring at the
floor, or, at others, he would mumble to himself, carrying on long
conversations which were always acrimonious and that usually resulted
in working him up into a rage; then he might seek to vent his
spleen upon Tarzan. The fact that Tarzan remained silent under such
provocation increased Phobeg's ire; but it also prevented an actual
break between them, for it is still a fact, however trite the saying,
that it takes two to make a quarrel; and Tarzan would not quarrel; at
least, not yet.
"Nemone won't get much entertainment out of you," growled Phobeg this
morning after one of his tirades had elicited no response from the
ape-man.
"Well, even so," replied Tarzan, "you should more than make up to her
any amusement value that I may lack."
"That I will," exclaimed Phobeg. "If it is fighting she wants, she
shall see such fighting as she has never seen before when she matches
Phobeg with either man or beast; but you! Bah! She will have to pit you
against some half-grown child if she wishes to see any fight at all.
You have no courage; your veins are filled with water. If she is wise
she will dump you into Xarator. By god's tail! I should like to see you
there. I'll bet my best habergeon they could hear you scream in Athne."
The ape-man was standing gazing at the little rectangle of sky that he
could see through the small, barred opening in the door. He remained
silent after Phobeg had ceased speaking, totally ignoring him as though
he had not spoken, as though he did not exist. Phobeg became furious.
He rose from the bench upon which he had been sitting.
"Coward!" he cried. "Why don't you answer me? By the yellow fangs of
Thoos! I've a mind to beat some manners into you, so that you will
know enough to answer when your betters speak." He took a step in the
direction of the ape-man.
Slowly Tarzan turned toward the angry man, his level gaze fixed upon
the other's eyes, and waited. He said nothing, but his attitude was an
open book that even the stupid Phobeg could read. And Phobeg hesitated.
Just what might have happened no man may know, for at that instant four
warriors came and swung the door of the cell open. "Come with us," said
one of them, "both of you."
Phobeg sullenly, Tarzan with the savage dignity of Numa, accompanied
the four warriors across the open courtyard and through a doorway that
led into a long corridor at the end of which they were ushered into a
large room. Here, behind a table, sat seven warriors trapped in ivory
and gold. Among them Tarzan recognized the two who had questioned him
the night of his capture, old Tomos and the younger Gemnon.
"These are nobles," whispered Phobeg to Tarzan. "That one at the center
of the table is old Tomos, the Queen's councillor. He would like to
marry the Queen, but I guess he is too old to suit her. The one on his
right is Erot. He used to be a common warrior like me; but Nemone took
a fancy to him, and now he is the Queen's favorite. She won't marry him
though, for he is not of noble blood. The young fellow on Tomos' left
is Gemnon. He is from an old and noble family. Warriors who have served
him say he is a very decent sort."
As Phobeg gossiped, the two prisoners and their guard had been standing
just inside the doorway waiting to be summoned to advance, and Tarzan
had had an opportunity to note the architecture and furnishings of the
room. The ceiling was low and was supported by a series of engaged
columns at regular intervals about the four walls. Between the columns
along one side of the room behind the table at which the nobles were
seated were unglazed windows, and there were three doorways: that
through which Tarzan and Phobeg had been brought, which was directly
opposite the windows, and one at either end of the room. The doors
themselves were beautifully carved and highly polished, some of the
panels containing mosaics of gold and ivory and bits of colored
substances.
The floor was of stone, composed of many pieces of different shapes and
sizes; but all so nicely fitted that joints were barely discernible.
On the floor were a few small rugs either of the skins of lions or of
a stiff and heavy wool weave. These latter contained simple designs in
several colors and resembled the work of primitive people such as the
Navajos of southwestern America.
Upon the walls were paintings depicting battle scenes in which lions
and elephants took part with warriors, and always the warriors with
the elephants appeared to be suffering defeat, while the warriors with
the lions were collecting many heads from fallen foemen. Above these
mural paintings was a row of mounted heads encircling the room. These
were similar to those Tarzan had seen in the guardroom the night of
his coming to Cathne and differed from them only in that they were
better specimens and better mounted. Perhaps, too, the heads of men
predominated here, scowling down upon their enemies.
But now Tarzan's examination of the room was interrupted by the voice
of Tomos. "Bring the prisoners forward," he directed the under-officer
who was one of the four warriors escorting them.
When the two men had been halted upon the opposite side of the table
from the nobles, Tomos pointed at Tarzan's companion. "Which is this
one?" he demanded.
"He is called Phobeg," replied the under-officer.
"What is the charge against him?"
"He profaned Thoos."
"Who brought the charge?"
"The high priest."
"It was an accident," Phobeg hastened to explain. "I meant no
disrespect."
"Silence!" snapped Tomos. Then he pointed at Tarzan. "And this one?" he
demanded. "Who is he?"
"This is the one who calls himself Tarzan," explained Gemnon. "You will
recall that you and I examined him the night he was captured."
"Yes, yes," said Tomos; "I recall. He carried some sort of strange
weapon."
"Is he the man of whom you told me," asked Erot, "the one who came from
Athne to assassinate the Queen?"
"This is the one," replied Tomos; "he came at night during the last
storm and succeeded in making his way into the palace grounds after
dark before he was discovered and arrested."
"He does not greatly resemble an Athnean," commented Erot.
"I am not," said Tarzan.
"Silence!" commanded Tomos.
"Why should I be silent?" demanded Tarzan. "There is none other to
speak for me than myself; therefore I shall speak for myself. I am no
enemy of your people, nor are my people at war with yours. I demand my
liberty!"
"He demands his liberty," mimicked Erot and laughed aloud as though it
was a good joke; "the slave demands his liberty!"
Tomos half rose from his seat, his face purple with rage. He banged the
table with his fist. He pointed a finger at Tarzan. "Speak when you are
spoken to, slave, and not otherwise; and when Tomos, the councillor,
tells you to be silent, be silent."
"I have spoken," said Tarzan; "when I choose to speak again, I shall
speak."
"We have a way of silencing impudent slaves, forever," sneered Erot.
"It is evident that he is a man from a far country," interjected
Gemnon. "It is not strange that he neither understands our customs nor
recognizes the great among us. Perhaps we should listen to him. If he
is not an Athnean and no enemy, why should we imprison him or punish
him?"
"He came over the palace walls at night," retorted Tomos. "He could
have come for but one purpose, to kill our Queen; therefore he must
die. The manner of his death shall be at the pleasure of Nemone, our
sweet and gracious Queen."
"He told us that the river washed him down to Cathne," persisted
Gemnon. "It was a very dark night and he did not know where he was
when he finally succeeded in crawling ashore; it was only chance that
brought him to the palace."
"A pretty story but not plausible," countered Erot.
"Why not plausible?" demanded Gemnon. "I think it quite plausible. We
know that no man could have swum the river in the flood that was raging
that night, and that this man could not have reached the spot at which
he climbed the wall except by swimming the river or crossing the bridge
of gold. We know that he did not cross the bridge, because the bridge
was well guarded and no one crossed that night. Knowing therefore that
he did not cross the bridge and could not have swum the river, we know
that the only way he could have reached that particular spot upon the
river's bank was by being swept downstream from above. I believe his
story, and I believe that we should treat him as an honorable warrior
from some distant kingdom until we have better reasons than we now have
for believing otherwise."
"I should not care to be the one to defend a man who came here to kill
the Queen," sneered Erot meaningly.
"Enough of this!" said Tomos curtly. "The man shall be judged fairly
and destroyed as Nemone thinks best."
As he ceased speaking, a door at one end of the room opened and a noble
resplendent in ivory and gold stepped into the chamber. Halting just
within the threshold, he faced the nobles at the table.
"The Queen!" he announced in a loud voice and then stepped aside.
All eyes turned in the direction of the doorway and at the same time
the nobles rose to their feet and then kneeled upon the floor, facing
the doorway through which the Queen would enter. The warriors on guard,
including those with Tarzan and Phobeg, did likewise, Phobeg following
their example. Everyone in the room kneeled except the noble who had
announced the Queen, or rather every Cathnean. Tarzan of the Apes did
not kneel.
"Down, jackal!" growled one of the guards in a whisper, and then
amidst deathly silence a woman stepped into view and paused, framed
in the carved casing of the doorway. Regal, she stood there glancing
indolently about the apartment; then her eyes met those of the ape-man
and, for a moment, held there on his. A slight frown of puzzlement
contracted her straight brows as she continued on into the room,
approaching the table and the kneeling men.
Behind her followed a half dozen richly arrayed nobles, resplendent
in burnished gold and gleaming ivory, but as they crossed the chamber
Tarzan saw only the gorgeous figure of the Queen. She was clothed more
simply than her escort; but that form, which her apparel revealed
rather than hid, required no embellishments other than those with which
nature had endowed it. She was far more beautiful than the crude Phobeg
had painted her.
A narrow diadem set with red stones encircled her brow, confining her
glossy black hair; upon either side of her head, covering her ears, a
large golden disc depended from the diadem; while from its rear rose
a slender filament of gold that curved forward, supporting a large
red stone above the center of her head. About her throat was a simple
golden band that held a brooch and pendant of ivory in the soft hollow
of her neck. Upon her upper arms were similar golden bands supporting
triangular, curved ornaments of ivory. A broad band of gold mesh
supported her breasts, the band being embellished with horizontal bands
of red stones, while from its upper edge depended five narrow triangles
of ivory, a large one in the center and two smaller ones on either side.
A girdle about her hips was of gold mesh. It supported another ivory
triangle the slender apex of which curved slightly inward between her
legs and also her scant skirt of black monkey hair that fell barely to
her knees, conforming perfectly to the contours of her body.
About her wrists were numerous bracelets of ivory and gold and around
her ankles were vertical strips of ivory held together by leather
thongs, identical in form to those worn by Valthor and by the Cathnean
men. Her feet were shod with dainty sandals; and as she moved upon
them silently across the stone floor, her movements seemed to Tarzan a
combination of the seductive languor of the sensualist and the sinuous
grace and savage alertness of the tigress.
That she was marvellously beautiful by the standards of any land or
any time grew more apparent to the lord of the jungle as she came
nearer to him, yet her presence exhaled a subtle essence that left him
wondering if her beauty were the reflection of a nature all good or
all evil, for her mien and bearing suggested that there could be no
compromise--Nemone, the Queen, was all one or all the other.
She kept her eyes upon him as she crossed the room slowly, and Tarzan
did not drop his own from hers. There was neither boldness nor
rudeness in his gaze, perhaps there was not even interest--it was the
non-committal, cautious appraisal of the wild beast that watches a
creature which it neither fears nor desires.
The quizzical frown still furrowed Nemone's smooth brow as she reached
the end of the table where the nobles kneeled. It was not an angry
frown, and there might have been in it much of interest and something
of amusement, for unusual things interested and amused Nemone, so rare
were they in the monotony of her life; and it was certainly unusual to
see one who did not accord her the homage due a queen.
As she halted she turned her eyes upon the kneeling nobles. "Arise!"
she commanded, and in that single word the vibrant qualities of her
rich, deep voice sent a strange thrill through the ape-man. "Who
is this that does not kneel to Nemone?" she demanded, her gaze now
returned to the bronzed figure standing impassively before her.
As Tarzan had been standing behind the nobles as they had turned to
face Nemone when they kneeled, only two of his guards had been aware
of his dereliction; but now as they arose and faced about, their
countenances were filled with horror and rage when they discovered that
the strange captive had so affronted their Queen.
Tomos went purple again. He spluttered with rage. "He is an ignorant
and impudent savage, my Queen," he said; "but as he is about to die his
actions are of no consequence."
"Why is he about to die?" demanded Nemone, "and how is he to die?"
"He is to die because he came here in the dead of night to assassinate
your majesty," explained Tomos; "the manner of his death rests of
course in the hands of our gracious Queen."
Nemone's dark eyes, veiled behind long lashes, appraised the ape-man,
lingering upon his bronzed skin and the rolling contours of his
muscles; then rising to the handsome face until her eyes met his. "Why
did you not kneel?" she asked.
"Why should I kneel to you who they have said will have me killed?"
demanded Tarzan. "Why should I kneel to you who are not my Queen? Why
should I, Tarzan of the Apes, who kneels to no one, kneel to you?"
"Silence!" cried Tomos. "Your impertinence knows no bounds. Do you not
realize, ignorant slave, low savage, that you are addressing Nemone,
the Queen!"
Tarzan made no reply; he did not even look at Tomos; his eyes were
fixed upon Nemone. She fascinated him; but whether as a thing of beauty
or a thing of evil, he did not know. He only knew that few women, other
than La, the High Priestess of the Flaming God, had ever so wholly
aroused his interest and his curiosity.
Tomos turned to the under-officer in command of the escort that was
guarding Tarzan and Phobeg. "Take them away!" he snapped. "Take them
back to their cell until we are ready to destroy them."
"Wait," said Nemone. "I would know more of this man," and then she
turned to Tarzan. "So you came to kill me!" Her voice was smooth,
almost caressing. At the moment the woman reminded Tarzan of a cat that
is playing with its victim. "Perhaps they chose a good man for the
purpose; you look as though you might be equal to any feat of arms."
"Killing a woman is no feat of arms," replied Tarzan. "I do not kill
women. I did not come here to kill you."
"Then why did you come to Onthar?" inquired the Queen in her silky
voice.
"That I have already explained twice to that old man with the red
face," replied Tarzan, nodding in the general direction of Tomos. "Ask
him; I am tired of explaining to people who have already decided to
kill me."
Tomos trembled with rage and half drew his slender, dagger-like sword.
"Let me destroy him, my Queen," he cried. "Let me wipe out the affront
he has put upon my beloved ruler."
Nemone had flushed angrily at Tarzan's words, but she did not lose
control of herself. "Sheathe your sword, Tomos," she commanded icily;
"Nemone is competent to decide when she is affronted and what steps to
take. The fellow is indeed impertinent; but it seems to me that if he
affronted anyone, it was Tomos he affronted and not Nemone. However,
his temerity shall not go unpunished. Who is this other?"
"He is a temple guard named Phobeg," explained Erot. "He profaned
Thoos."
"It would amuse us," said Nemone, "to see these two men fight upon the
Field of the Lions. Let them fight without other weapons than those
which Thoos has given them. To the victor, freedom," she hesitated
momentarily, "freedom within limits. Take them away!"