"He might," said Tarzan; "men have killed lions before."
"With their bare hands?" asked Nemone.
"You mean the man will not be armed?" demanded Tarzan incredulously.
"Why, of course not," exclaimed Nemone. "He is not being put in there
to kill or wound a fine young lion but to be killed."
"And he has no chance then! That is not sport; it is murder!"
"Perhaps you would like to go down and defend him," sneered Erot. "The
Queen would give the fellow his liberty if he had a champion who would
kill the lion, for that is the custom."
"It is a custom that is without a precedent since I have been Queen,"
said Nemone. "It is true that it is a law of the arena, but I have yet
to see a champion volunteer to take the risk."
The lion paced across the courtyard and stood directly beneath the
balcony, glaring up at them. He was a splendid beast, young but
full-grown.
"He is going to be a mean customer," remarked Gemnon.
"He already is," rejoined the Queen. "I was going to make a racing
lion of him, but after he killed a couple of trainers I decided that
he would make a better hunting lion for grand hunts. There is the
Athnean." She pointed down into the courtyard. "He is a fine-looking
young fellow."
Tarzan glanced at the stalwart figure in ivory standing upon the
opposite side of the small arena bravely awaiting its fate; then the
lion turned its head slowly in the direction of the prey it had not yet
seen. At the same instant Tarzan seized the hilt of Erot's dagger-like
sword, tore the weapon from its sheath, and, stepping to the top of the
parapet, leaped for the lion below.
So quickly and so silently had he moved that none was aware of his
intent until it had been accomplished. Gemnon voiced an ejaculation of
astonishment; Erot, of relief; while Nemone cried out in genuine terror
and alarm. Leaning over the parapet, the Queen saw the lion struggling
to tear the body that had crushed it to the stone flagging or escape
from beneath it. The horrid growls of the beast reverberated in the
narrow confines of the pit, and mingled with them were the growls of
the beast-man on its back. One bronzed arm was about the maned neck of
the carnivore, two powerful legs were locked around its middle, and
the sharp point of Erot's sword was awaiting the opportune instant to
plunge into the savage heart. The Athnean was running toward the two
embattled beasts.
"By Thoos!" exclaimed Nemone. "If the lion kills him, I will have it
torn limb from limb. It must not kill him! Go down there, Erot, and
help him; go, Gemnon!"
Gemnon did not wait, but springing to the parapet, he lowered himself
by the stakes and dropped into the courtyard. Erot hung back. "Let him
take care of himself," he grumbled.
Nemone turned to the guard standing behind her. She was white with
apprehension because of Tarzan and with rage and disgust at Erot.
"Throw him into the pit!" she commanded, pointing at the cringing
favorite; but Erot did not wait to be thrown, and a moment later he had
followed Gemnon to the stone flagging of the courtyard.
Neither Erot nor Gemnon nor the man from Athne were needed to save
Tarzan from the lion, for already he had sunk the sword into the tawny
side. Twice again the point drove into the wild heart before the
roaring beast collapsed upon the white stones, and its great voice was
stilled forever.
Then Tarzan rose to his feet. For a moment the men about him, the Queen
leaning across the parapet above, the city of gold, all were forgotten.
Here was no English lord but a beast of the jungle that had made its
kill. With one foot upon the carcass of the lion, the ape-man raised
his face toward the heavens, and from the heart of the palace of Nemone
rose the hideous victory cry of the bull ape that has killed.
Gemnon and Erot shuddered, and Nemone drew back in terror; but the
Athnean was unmoved; he had heard that savage challenge before. He
was Valthor. And now Tarzan turned; all the savagery faded from his
countenance as he stretched forth a hand and laid it on Valthor's
shoulder. "We meet again, my friend," he said.
"And once again you save my life!" exclaimed the Athnean noble.
The two men had spoken in low tones that had not carried to the ears of
Nemone or the others in the balcony; Erot, fearful that the lion might
not be dead, had run to the far end of the court, where he was cowering
behind a column; that Gemnon might have heard did not concern Tarzan,
who trusted the young Cathnean. But those others must not know that he
had known Valthor before, or immediately the old story that Tarzan had
come from Athne to assassinate Nemone would be revived and then only a
miracle could save either of them.
His hand still upon Valthor's shoulder, Tarzan spoke again rapidly in
a whisper. "They must not know that we are acquainted," he said. "They
are looking for an excuse to kill me, some of them; but as far as you
are concerned they do not have to look for any."
Nemone was now calling orders rapidly to those about her. "Go down and
let Tarzan out of the arena, Tarzan and Gemnon; send them to me. Erot
may go to his quarters until I give further orders; I do not wish to
see him again. Take the Athnean back to his cell; later I will decide
how he shall be destroyed."
She spoke in the imperious tones of one long accustomed to absolute
authority and implicit obedience, and her voice carried plainly to the
ears of the men in the arena. It brought the chill of sudden fear to
the heart of Erot, who saw his influence waning and recalled tales he
had heard of the fate of other royal favorites who had outlived their
charm. Into his cunning brain flew a score of schemes to reinstate
himself, and each was based upon the elimination of the giant that
had supplanted him in the affections of the Queen. He would fly to
Tomos, to M'duze; neither of these could afford to see the stranger
take Erot's place in the boudoir councils of Nemone and become a power
behind the throne.
Tarzan heard the Queen's commands with surprise and resentment, and,
wheeling, he looked up at her. "This man is free by your own word," he
reminded her. "If he be returned to a cell, I shall go with him, for I
have told him that he would be free."
"Do with him as you please," cried Nemone; "he is yours. Only come
up to me, Tarzan. I thought that you would be killed, and I am still
frightened."
Erot and Gemnon heard these words with vastly different emotions; each
recognized that they signalized a change in the affairs of the court of
Cathne. Gemnon anticipated the effects of a better influence injected
into the councils of Nemone, and was pleased. Erot saw the flimsy
structure of his temporary grandeur and reflected authority crumbling
to ruin. Both were astonished by this sudden revealment of a new
Nemone, whom none had ever before seen bow to the authority of another
than M'duze.
Accompanied by Gemnon and Valthor, Tarzan returned to the balcony where
Nemone, her composure regained, awaited them. For a moment, moved by
excitement and apprehension for Tarzan's safety, she had revealed a
feminine side of her character that few of her intimates might even
have suspected she possessed; but now she was the Queen again. She
surveyed Valthor haughtily and yet with interest.
"What is your name, Athnean?" she demanded.
"Valthor," he replied and added, "of the house of Xanthus."
"We know the house," remarked Nemone; "its head is a king's councillor;
a most noble house and close to the royal line in both blood and
authority."
"My father is the head of the house of Xanthus," said Valthor.
"Your head would have made a noble trophy for our walls," sighed
Nemone, "but we have given our promise that you shall be freed."
"My head would have been honored by a place among your majesty's
trophies," replied Valthor, the faintest trace of a smile upon his
lips; "but it shall have to be content to wait a more propitious event."
"We shall look forward with keen anticipation to that moment," rejoined
Nemone graciously; "but in the meantime we will arrange an escort to
return you to Athne, and hope for better fortune the next time that you
fall into our hands. Be ready then early tomorrow to return to your own
country."
"I thank your majesty," replied Valthor; "I shall be ready, and when I
go I shall carry with me, to cherish through life, the memory of the
gracious and beautiful Queen of Cathne."
"Our noble Gemnon shall be your host until tomorrow," announced Nemone.
"Take him with you now to your quarters, Gemnon, and let it be known
that he is Nemone's guest, whom none may harm."
Tarzan would have accompanied Gemnon and Valthor, but Nemone detained
him. "You will return to my apartments with me," she directed; "I wish
to talk with you."
As they walked through the palace, the Queen did not precede her
companion as the etiquette of the court demanded but moved close at
his side, looking up into his face as she talked. "I was frightened,
Tarzan," she confided. "It is not often that Nemone is frightened by
the peril of another, but when I saw you leap into the arena with the
lion my heart stood still. Why did you do it, Tarzan?"
"I was disgusted with what I saw," replied the ape-man shortly.
"Disgusted! What do you mean?"
"The cowardliness of the authority that would permit an unarmed and
utterly defenseless man to be forced into an arena with a lion,"
explained Tarzan candidly.
Nemone flushed. "You know that that authority is I," she said coldly.
"Of course I know it," replied the ape-man, "but that only renders it
the more odious."
"What do you mean?" she snapped. "Are you trying to drive me beyond my
patience? If you knew me better you would know that that is not safe,
not even for you, before whom I have already humbled myself."
"I am not seeking to try your patience," replied the ape-man quietly,
"for I am neither interested nor concerned in your powers of
self-control. I am merely shocked that one so beautiful may at the same
time be so heartless. Were you a little more human, Nemone, you would
be irresistible."
The flush faded from the Queen's face, the anger from her eyes; she
moved on in silence, her mood suddenly introspective; and when they
reached the anteroom leading to her private chambers, she halted at the
threshold of the latter and laid a hand gently upon the arm of the man
at her side.
"You are very brave," she said. "Only a very brave man would have
leaped into the arena with the lion to save a stranger; but only the
bravest of the brave could have dared to speak to Nemone as you have
spoken, for the death that the lion deals may be merciful compared
with that which Nemone deals when she has been affronted. Yet perhaps
you knew that I would forgive you. Oh, Tarzan, what magic have you
exercised to win such power over me!" She took him by the hand then and
led him toward the doorway of her chambers. "In here, alone together,
you shall teach Nemone how to be human!" As the door swung open there
was a new light in the eyes of the Queen of Cathne, a softer light than
had ever before shone in those beautiful depths; and then it faded,
to be replaced by a cold, hard glitter of bitterness and hate. Facing
them, in the center of the apartment, stood M'duze.
She stood there, bent and horrible, wagging her head and tapping the
stone floor with her staff. She spoke no word, but fixed them with her
baleful glare. As one held in the grip of a power she is unable to
resist, Nemone moved slowly toward the ancient hag, leaving Tarzan just
beyond the threshold. Slowly and silently the door closed between them.
Beyond it the ape-man heard, faintly, the tapping of the staff upon the
colored stones of the mosaic.