A detachment of common warriors commanded by an under-officer had
escorted Tarzan to the stadium, but he returned to the city in the
company of nobles. Several of them had clustered about him immediately
following the gesture of Nemone that had suggested to them that this
stranger might be the recipient of further royal favors.
Congratulating him upon his victory, praising his prowess, asking
innumerable questions, they followed him from the arena, and at the top
of the ramp another noble accosted him. It was Gemnon.
"The Queen has commanded me to accompany you to the city and look
after you," he explained. "This evening I am to bring you to her in
the palace; but in the meantime you will want to bathe and rest, and I
imagine that you might welcome some decent food after the prison fare
you have been eating recently."
"I shall be glad of a bath and good food," replied Tarzan, "but why
should I rest? I have been doing nothing else for several days."
"But you have just come through a terrific battle for your life!"
exclaimed Gemnon. "You must be tired."
Tarzan shrugged his broad shoulders. "Perhaps you had better look after
Phobeg instead," he replied. "It is he who needs rest; I am not tired."
Gemnon laughed. "Phobeg should consider himself lucky to be alive. If
any one looks after him it will be himself."
They were walking toward the city now. The other nobles had joined
their own parties or had dropped behind, and Gemnon and Tarzan
were alone, if two may be said to be alone who are surrounded by
a chattering mob through which bodies of armed men and lion-drawn
chariots are making their slow way. Those near Tarzan were discussing
him animatedly, but because of the nobles they kept their distance
from him. They commented upon his giant strength and the deceptive
appearance of his muscular development, the flowing symmetry of which
scarce proclaimed the titanic power of the steel thews of the lord of
the jungle.
"You are popular now," commented Gemnon.
"A few minutes ago they were screaming at Phobeg to kill me," Tarzan
reminded him.
"I am really surprised that they are so friendly," remarked Gemnon.
"You cheated them of a death--the one thing they are all hoping and
praying to see when they go to the stadium. It is for this they pay
their lepta for admission. Also, most of them lost more money betting
on Phobeg; but those who won on you should love you, for they won much;
the odds were as high as one hundred to one against you.
"It is the nobles, though, who have the greatest grievance against
you," continued Gemnon, grinning. "Several of them lost their entire
fortunes. Those closest to Nemone always have to cover her bets; and,
believing that she would bet on Phobeg, they placed large bets on
him among the audience to cover their losses to Nemone; then Nemone
insisted upon betting on you, and they had to bet more money on
Phobeg--ten million drachmas to cover Nemone's hundred thousand.
I estimate that that one small group lost close to twenty million
drachmas."
"And Nemone won ten million?" asked Tarzan.
"Yes," replied Gemnon; "which may account for the fact that you are
alive now."
"Why should I not be alive?"
"You flouted the Queen; before thousands of her people you refused to
obey her direct command. No, not even the ten million drachmas can
account for it; there is some other reason why Nemone spared you.
Perhaps she is contemplating for you a death that will give her greater
satisfaction. Knowing Nemone as I do, I cannot believe that she will
let you live; she would not be Nemone if she forgave so serious an
affront to her majesty."
"Phobeg was going to kill me," Tarzan reminded him.
"But Nemone is not Phobeg. Nemone is Queen, and--"
"And what?" asked the ape-man.
Gemnon shrugged. "I was thinking aloud, which is a bad habit for one
who enjoys life. Doubtless you may live long enough to know her better
than you do now and then you can do your own thinking--but do not do it
aloud."
"Did you lose much on Phobeg?" inquired Tarzan.
"I won; I bet on you. I met one of Erot's slaves who was going to place
some of his master's money on Phobeg; I took it all. You know I had
seen a little more of you than the other nobles and I believed that you
had a chance, but I was backing your intelligence and agility against
Phobeg's strength, stupidity, and awkwardness; even I did not dream
that you were stronger than he."
"And the odds were good?"
Gemnon smiled. "Too good to be overlooked; it was more than a
reasonable gamble. But I cannot understand Nemone; she is a great
bettor but no gambler. She always puts her money on the favorite, and
may Thoos help him if he does not win."
"A woman's intuition," suggested the ape-man.
"I think not; Nemone is too practical and calculating to act on
intuition alone; she had some other reason. What it is, none knows
but Nemone. The same mysterious motivation saved your life today or,
perhaps I should say, prolonged it."
"I am going to see her this evening," said Tarzan, "and doubtless I
shall affront her again; it seems that I have done so both times that I
have seen her."
"Do not forget that she practically sentenced you to death for the
first offense," Gemnon reminded him. "At that time she must have been
certain that Phobeg would kill you. If I were you I should not annoy
her."
When they reached the city, Gemnon took Tarzan to his own quarters in
the palace. These consisted of a bedroom and bath in addition to a
living room that was shared with another officer. Here Tarzan found the
usual decorations of weapons, shields, and mounted heads in addition
to pictures painted on leather. He saw no books, nor any other printed
matter; neither was there any sign of writing materials in the rooms.
He wanted to question Gemnon on this subject, but he found that he had
never learned any word for writing or for a written language.
The bath interested the ape-man. The tub was a coffin-like affair made
of clay and baked; the plumbing fixtures were apparently all of solid
gold. While questioning Gemnon he learned that the water was brought
from the mountains east of the city through clay pipes of considerable
size and distributed by means of pressure tanks distributed throughout
all of urban Cathne.
Gemnon summoned a slave to prepare the bath, and when Tarzan had
finished, a meal was awaiting him in the living room. While he was
eating, and Gemnon lounged near in conversation, another young noble
entered the apartment. He had a narrow face and rather unpleasant eyes,
nor was he overly cordial when Gemnon introduced him to Tarzan.
"Xerstle and I are quartered together," Gemnon explained.
"I have orders to move out," snapped Xerstle.
"Why is that?" asked Gemnon.
"To make room for your friend here," replied Xerstle sourly, and then
he went into his own room mumbling something about slaves and savages.
"He does not seem pleased," remarked Tarzan.
"But I am," replied Gemnon in a low voice. "Xerstle and I have not
gotten along well together. We have nothing in common. He is one of
Erot's friends and was elevated from nothing after Erot became Nemone's
favorite. He is the son of a foreman at the mines. If they had elevated
his father he would have been an acquisition to the nobility, for he is
a splendid man; but Xerstle is a rat--like his friend, Erot."
"I have heard something of your nobility," said Tarzan; "I understand
that there are two classes of nobles, and that one class rather looks
upon the other with contempt even though a man of the lower class may
hold a higher title than many of those in the other class."
"We do not look upon them with contempt if they are worthy men,"
replied Gemnon. "The old nobility, the Lion Men of Cathne, is
hereditary; the other is but temporary--for the lifetime of the man
who has received it as a special mark of favor from the throne. In one
respect at least it reflects greater glory on its possessor than does
hereditary nobility, as it is often the deserved reward of merit. I am
a noble by accident of birth; had I not been born a noble I might never
have become one. I am a lion man because my father was; I may own lions
because, beyond the memory of man, an ancient ancestor of mine led the
king's lions to battle."
"What did Erot do to win his patent of nobility?" inquired the ape-man.
Gemnon grimaced. "Whatever services he has rendered have been personal;
he has never served the state with distinction. If he owns any
distinction, it is that of being the prince of flatterers, the king of
sycophants."
"Your Queen seems too intelligent a woman to be duped by flattery."
"No one is, always."
"There are no sycophants among the beasts," said Tarzan.
"What do you mean by that?" demanded Gemnon. "Erot is almost a beast."
"You malign the beasts. Did you ever see a lion that fawned upon
another creature to curry favor?"
"But beasts are different," argued Gemnon.
"Yes; they have left all the petty meannesses to man."
"You do not think very highly of men."
"None does who thinks, who compares them with the beasts."
"We are what we are born," rejoined Gemnon; "some are beasts, some are
men, and some are men who behave like beasts."
"But none, thank God, are beasts that behave like men," retorted
Tarzan, smiling.
Xerstle, entering from his room, interrupted their conversation. "I
have gathered my things together," he said; "I shall send a slave for
them presently." His manner was short and brusque. Gemnon merely nodded
in assent, and Xerstle departed.
"He does not seem pleased," commented the ape-man.
"May Xarator have him!" ejaculated Gemnon; "though he would serve a
better purpose as food for my lions," he added as an after-thought; "if
they would eat him."
"You own lions?" inquired Tarzan.
"Certainly," replied Gemnon. "I am a lion man and must own lions. It
is a caste obligation. Each lion man must own lions of war to fight in
the service of the Queen. I have five. In times of peace I use them for
hunting and racing. Only royalty and the lion men may own lions."
The sun was setting behind the mountains that rimmed the western edge
of the Field of the Lions as a slave entered the apartment with a
lighted cresset which he hung at the end of a chain depending from the
ceiling.
"It is time for the evening meal," announced Gemnon, rising.
"I have eaten," replied Tarzan.
"Come anyway; it may interest you to meet the other nobles of the
palace."
Tarzan arose. "Very well," he said and followed Gemnon from the
apartment.
Forty nobles were assembled in a large dining room on the main floor
of the palace as Gemnon and Tarzan entered. Tomos was there and Erot
and Xerstle; several of the others Tarzan also recognized as having
been seen by him before either in the council room or at the stadium.
A sudden silence fell upon the assemblage as he entered, as though the
men had been interrupted while discussing either him or Gemnon.
"This is Tarzan," announced Gemnon by way of introduction as he led the
ape-man to the table.
Tomos, who sat at the head of the table, did not appear pleased. Erot
was scowling; it was he who spoke first. "This table is for nobles," he
said, "not for slaves."
"By his own prowess and the grace of her majesty, the Queen, this man
is here as my guest," said Gemnon quietly. "If one of my equals takes
exception to his presence, I will be glad to discuss the matter with
swords," and then he turned to Tarzan. "Because this man sits at table
with nobles of my own rank I apologize for the inference he intended
you to draw from his words. I hope you are not offended."
"Does the jackal offend the lion?" asked the ape-man.
The meal was not a complete success socially. Erot and Xerstle
whispered together. Tomos did not speak but applied himself assiduously
to the business of eating. Several of Gemnon's friends engaged Tarzan
in conversation; and he found one or two of them agreeable, but
others were inclined to be patronizing. Possibly they would have been
surprised and their attitude toward him different had they known that
their guest was a peer of England, but then again this might have made
little impression upon them inasmuch as none of them had ever heard of
England. However, Tarzan did not enlighten them. He did not care what
they thought, and so the meal progressed with many silences.
When Tomos arose and the others were free to go, Gemnon conducted
Tarzan to the apartments of the Queen after returning to his own
apartments to don a more elaborate habergeon, helmet, and equipments.
"Do not forget to kneel when we enter the presence of Nemone,"
cautioned Gemnon, "and do not speak until she addresses you."
A noble received them in a small anteroom where he left them while
he went to announce their presence to the Queen, and as they waited
Gemnon's eyes watched the tall stranger standing quietly near him.
"Have you no nerves?" he asked presently.
"What do you mean?" demanded the ape-man.
"I have seen the bravest warriors tremble who had been summoned before
Nemone," explained his companion.
"I have never trembled," replied Tarzan. "How is it done?"
"Perhaps Nemone will teach you to tremble."
"Perhaps, but why should I tremble to go where a jackal does not
tremble to go?"
"I do not understand what you mean by that," said Gemnon, puzzled.
"Erot is in there."
Gemnon grinned. "But how do you know that?" he asked.
"I know," said Tarzan; he did not think it necessary to explain that
when the noble had opened the door his sensitive nostrils had caught
the scent spoor of the Queen's favorite.
"I hope not," said Gemnon, an expression of concern upon his
countenance. "If he is there this may be a trap from which you will
never come out alive."
"One might fear the Queen," replied Tarzan, "but not the jackal."
"It is the Queen of whom I was thinking."
The noble returned to the anteroom. He nodded to Tarzan. "Her majesty
will receive you now," he said. "You may go, Gemnon; your attendance
will not be required." Then he turned to the ape-man once more. "When
I open the door and announce you, enter the room and kneel. Remain
kneeling until the Queen tells you to arise, and do not speak until
after her majesty addresses you. Do you hear?"
"I hear," replied Tarzan. "Open the door!"
Gemnon, just leaving the anteroom by another doorway, heard and smiled;
but the noble did not smile. He frowned. The bronzed giant had spoken
to him in a tone of command, but the noble did not know what to do
about it; so he opened the door. But he got some revenge, or at least
he thought that he did.
"The slave, Tarzan!" he announced in a loud voice.
The lord of the jungle stepped into the adjoining chamber, crossed to
the center of it, and stood erect, silently regarding Nemone. He did
not kneel. Erot was there standing at the foot of a couch upon which
the Queen reclined upon fat pillows. The Queen regarded Tarzan from her
deep eyes without any change of expression, but Erot scowled angrily.
"Kneel, you fool!" he commanded.
"Silence!" admonished Nemone. "It is I who give commands."
Erot flushed and fingered the golden hilt of his sword. Tarzan neither
spoke nor moved nor took his eyes from the eyes of Nemone. Though he
had thought her beautiful before, he realized now that she was even
more gorgeous than he had believed it possible for any woman to be.
"I shall not need you again tonight, Erot," said Nemone; "you may go
now."
Now Erot paled and then turned fiery red. He started to speak but
thought better of it; then he backed to the doorway, executed a bow
that brought him to one knee, arose, and departed.
As Tarzan had crossed the threshold his observing eyes had noted every
detail of the room's interior almost in a single, sweeping glance. The
chamber was not large, but it was magnificent in its conception and its
appointments. Columns of solid gold supported the ceiling, the walls
were tiled with ivory, the floor a mosaic of colored stones upon which
were scattered rugs of colored stuff and the skins of animals, among
which was one that attracted the ape-man's instant attention--the skin
of a man tanned with the head on.
On the walls were paintings, for the most part very crude, and the
usual array of heads of animals and men, and at one end of the room a
great lion was chained between two of the golden Doric columns. He was
a very large lion with a tuft of white hair in his mane directly in the
center of the back of his neck. From the instant that Tarzan entered
the room the lion eyed him malevolently, and Erot had scarcely passed
out and closed the door behind him when the beast sprang to his feet
with a terrific roar and leaped at the ape-man. The chains stopped
him and he dropped down, growling.
"Belthar does not like you," said Nemone who had remained unmoved when
the beast sprang. She noticed, too, that Tarzan had not started nor
given any other indication that he had heard the lion or seen him; and
she was pleased.
"He but reflects the attitude of all Cathne," replied Tarzan.
"That is not true," contradicted Nemone.
"No?"
"_I_ like you." Nemone's voice was low and caressing. "You defied
me before my people at the stadium today, but I did not have you
destroyed. Do you suppose that I should have permitted you to live if I
had not liked you? You do not kneel to me. No one else in the world has
ever refused to do that and lived. I have never seen a man like you. I
do not understand you. I am beginning to think that I do not understand
myself. The leopard does not become a sheep in a few hours, yet it
seems to me that I have changed as much as that since I first saw you;
but that is not solely because I like you; I think that it is more
because there is something mysterious about you that I cannot fathom.
You have piqued my curiosity."
"And when that is satisfied you will kill me, perhaps?" asked Tarzan, a
half smile curving his lip.
"Perhaps," admitted Nemone with a low laugh. "Come here and sit down
beside me; I want to talk with you; I want to know more about you."
"I shall see that you do not learn too much," Tarzan assured her as
he crossed to the couch and seated himself facing her, while Belthar
growled and strained at his chains.
"In your own country you are no slave," said Nemone; "but I do not need
to ask that; your every act has proved it. Perhaps you are a king?"
Tarzan shook his head. "I am Tarzan," he said, as though that explained
everything, setting him above kings.
"Are you a lion man? You _must_ be," insisted the Queen.
"It would not make me better nor worse; so what difference does it
make? You might make Erot a king, but he would still be Erot."
A sudden frown darkened Nemone's countenance. "What do you mean by
that?" she demanded. There was a suggestion of anger in her tone.
"I mean that a title of nobility does not make a man noble, that you
may call a jackal a lion; but he will still be a jackal."
"Do you not know that I am supposed to be very fond of Erot," she
demanded, "or that you may drive my patience too far?"