Thudos and Gemnon pressed the ape-man's shoulder. No word was spoken,
but that wordless farewell was more eloquent than words. They saw him
go out, saw the door close behind him; but neither spoke, and so they
sat for a long hour in silence.
In the guardroom, to which he had been conducted from his cell, Tarzan
was heavily chained; a golden collar was placed about his neck, and a
chain reaching from each side of it was held in the hands of a warrior.
"Why all the precautions?" demanded the ape-man.
"It is merely a custom," explained the officer; "it is always thus that
the Queen's quarry is led to the Field of the Lions."
Once again Tarzan of the Apes walked near the chariot of the Queen of
Cathne; but this time he walked behind it, a chained prisoner between
two stalwart warriors and surrounded by a score of others. Once again
he crossed the Bridge of Gold out onto the Field of the Lions in the
valley of Onthar.
The procession did not go far, scarcely more than a mile from the city.
A great concourse of people accompanied it, for Nemone had invited the
entire city to witness the degradation and death of the man who had
spurned her love. She was about to be avenged, but she was not happy.
With scowling brows she sat brooding in her chariot as it stopped at
last at the point she had selected for the start of the hunt. Not once
had she turned to look at the chained man behind her. Perhaps she had
been certain that she would have been rewarded by no indication of
terror in his mien, or perhaps she did not dare to look at the man she
had loved for fear that her determination might weaken.
But now that the time had come she cast her indecision aside, if any
had been annoying her, and ordered the guard to fetch the prisoner to
her. She was looking straight ahead as the ape-man halted by the wheel
of her chariot.
"Send all away except the two warriors who hold him," commanded Nemone.
"You may send them, too, if you wish," said Tarzan; "I give you my word
not to harm you or try to escape while they are away."
Nemone, still looking straight ahead, was silent for a moment; then,
"You may all go; I would speak with the prisoner alone."
When the guard had departed a number of paces, the Queen turned her
eyes toward Tarzan and found his smiling into her own. "You are going
to be very happy, Nemone," he said in an easy, friendly voice.
"What do you mean?" she asked. "How am I going to be happy?"
"You are going to see me die; that is if the lion catches me," he
laughed, "and you like to see people die."
"You think that will give me pleasure? Well, I thought so myself; but
now I am wondering if it will. I never get quite the pleasure from
death that I anticipate I shall; nothing in life is ever what I hope
for."
"Possibly you don't hope for the right things," he suggested. "Did you
ever try hoping for something that would bring pleasure and happiness
to some one beside yourself?"
"Why should I?" she asked. "I hope for my own happiness; let others do
the same. I strive for my own happiness--"
"And never have any," interrupted the ape-man good-naturedly.
"Probably I should have less if I strove only for the happiness of
others," she insisted.
"There are people like that," he assented; "perhaps you are one of
them; so you might as well go on striving for happiness in your own
way. Of course you won't get it, but you will at least have the
pleasures of anticipation, and that is something."
"I think I know myself and my own affairs well enough to determine for
myself how to conduct my life," she said with a note of asperity in her
voice.
Tarzan shrugged. "It was not in my thoughts to interfere," he said. "If
you are determined to kill me and are quite sure that you will derive
pleasure from it, why, I should be the last in the world to suggest
that you abandon the idea."
"You do not amuse me," said Nemone haughtily; "I do not care for irony
that is aimed at myself." She turned fiercely on him. "Men have died
for less!" she cried, and the lord of the jungle laughed in her face.
"How many times?" he asked.
"A moment ago," said Nemone, "I was beginning to regret the thing
that is about to happen. Had you been different, had you sought to
conciliate me, I might have relented and returned you to favor; but
you do everything to antagonize me. You affront me, you insult me, you
laugh at me." Her voice was rising, a barometric indication, Tarzan had
learned, of her mental state.
"And yet, Nemone, I am drawn to you," admitted the ape-man. "I cannot
understand it. You are attracted to me in spite of wounded pride
and lacerated dignity; and I to you though I hold in contempt your
principles, your ideals, and your methods. It is strange, isn't it?"
The woman nodded. "It is strange," she mused. "I never loved one as I
loved you, and yet I am going to kill you notwithstanding the fact that
I still love you."
"And you will go on killing people and being unhappy until it is your
turn to be killed," he said sadly.
She shuddered. "Killed!" she repeated. "Yes, they are all killed, the
kings and queens of Cathne; but it is not my turn yet. While Belthar
lives Nemone lives." She was silent for a moment. "You may live too,
Tarzan; there is something that I would rather see you do than see you
die." She paused as though expecting him to ask her what it was, but he
manifested no interest, and she continued, "Last night I knelt at your
feet and begged for your love. Kneel here, before my people, kneel at
my feet and beg for mercy, and you may live."
"Bring on your lion," said Tarzan; "his mercy might be kinder than
Nemone's."
"You refuse?" she demanded angrily.
"You would kill me eventually," he replied; "there is a chance that the
lion may not be able to."
"Not a chance!" she said. "Have you seen the lion?"
"No."
She turned and called a noble, "Have the hunting lion brought to scent
the quarry!"
Behind them there was a scattering of troops and nobles as they made
an avenue for the hunting lion and his keepers, and along the avenue
Tarzan saw a great lion straining at the golden leashes to which eight
men clung. Growling and roaring, the beast sprang from side to side in
an effort to seize a keeper or lay hold upon one of the warriors or
nobles that lined the way; so that it was all that four stalwart men on
either side of him could do to prevent his accomplishing his design.
A flaming-eyed devil, he came toward the chariot of Nemone, but he was
still afar when Tarzan saw the tuft of white hair in the center of his
mane between his ears. It was Belthar!
Nemone was eyeing the man at her side as a cat might eye a mouse, but
though the lion was close now she saw no change in the expression on
Tarzan's face. "Do you not recognize him?" she demanded.
"Of course I do," he replied.
"And you are not afraid?"
"Of what?" he asked, looking at her wonderingly.
She stamped her foot in anger, thinking that he was trying to rob her
of the satisfaction of witnessing his terror; for how could she know
that Tarzan of the Apes could not understand the meaning of _fear_?
"Prepare for the grand hunt!" she commanded, turning to a noble
standing with the guard that had waited just out of earshot of her
conversation with the quarry.
The warriors who had held Tarzan in leash ran forward and picked up the
golden chains that were attached to the golden collar about his neck,
the guard took posts about the chariot of the Queen, and Tarzan was led
a few yards in advance of it. Then the keepers brought Belthar closer
to him, holding him just out of reach but only with difficulty, for
when the irascible beast recognized the ape-man he flew into a frenzy
of rage that taxed the eight men to hold him at all.
Warriors were deploying on either side of a wide lane leading toward
the north from the chariot of Nemone. In solid ranks they formed on
either side of this avenue, facing toward its center, their spear
points dropped to form a wall of steel against the lion should he
desert the chase and break to right or left. Behind them, craning necks
to see above the shoulders of the fighting men, the populace pushed and
shoved for advantageous points from which to view the spectacle.
A noble approached Tarzan. He was Phordos, the father of Gemnon,
hereditary captain of the hunt for the rulers of Cathne. He came quite
close to Tarzan and spoke to him in a low whisper, "I am sorry that I
must have a part in this," he said, "but my office requires it," and
then aloud, "In the name of the Queen, silence! These are the rules
of the grand hunt of Nemone, Queen of Cathne: The quarry shall move
north down the center of the lane of warriors; when he has proceeded
a hundred paces the keepers shall unleash the hunting lion, Belthar;
let no man distract the lion from the chase or aid the quarry, under
penalty of death. When the lion has killed and while he is feeding let
the keepers guarded by warriors, retake him."
Then he turned to Tarzan. "You will run straight north until Belthar
overtakes you," he said.
"What if I elude him and escape?" demanded the ape-man. "Shall I have
my freedom then?"
Phordos shook his head sadly. "You will not escape him," he said.
Then he turned toward the Queen and knelt. "All is in readiness, your
majesty. Shall the hunt commence?"
Nemone looked quickly about her. She saw that the guards were so
disposed that she might be protected in the event that the lion turned
back; she saw that slaves from her stables carried great nets with
which Belthar was to be retaken after the hunt. She knew and they knew
that not all of them would return alive to Cathne, but that would but
add to the interest and excitement of the day. She nodded her head to
Phordos. "Let the lion scent the quarry once more; then the hunt may
start," she directed.
The keepers let Belthar move a little closer to the ape-man, but not
before they had enlisted the aid of a dozen additional men to prevent
his dragging the original eight until he was within reach of the quarry.
Nemone leaned forward eagerly, her eyes upon the savage beast that was
the pride of her stable; the light of insanity gleamed in them now. "It
is enough!" she cried. "Belthar knows him now, nor will he ever leave
his trail until he has tracked him down and killed him, until he has
reaped his reward and filled his belly with the flesh of his kill, for
there is no better hunting lion in all Cathne than Belthar."
Along the gantlet of warriors that the quarry and the lion were to run
spears had been stuck into the ground at intervals, and floating from
the hafts of these were different colored pennons. The populace, the
nobles, and the Queen had laid wagers upon the color of the pennon
nearest which they thought the kill would occur, and they were still
betting when Phordos slipped the collar from Tarzan's neck.
In a hollow near the river that runs past Cathne a lion lay asleep
in dense brush, a mighty beast with a yellow coat and a great black
mane. Strange sounds coming to him from the plain disturbed him, and
he rumbled complainingly in his throat; but as yet he seemed only
half awake. His eyes were closed, but his half wakefulness was only
seeming. Numa was awake, but he wanted to sleep and was angry with
the men-things that were disturbing him. They were not too close as
yet; but he knew that if they came closer he would have to get up and
investigate, and that he did not want to do; he felt very lazy.
Out on the field Tarzan was striding along the spear-bound lane. He
counted his steps, knowing that at the hundredth Belthar would be
loosed upon him. The ape-man had a plan. Across the river to the east
was the forest in which he had hunted with Xerstle and Pindes and
Gemnon; could he reach it, he would be safe. No lion or no man could
hope ever to overtake the lord of the jungle once he swung to the
branches of those trees.
But could he reach the wood before Belthar overtook him? Tarzan was
swift, but there are few creatures as swift as Numa at the height of
his charge. With a start of a hundred paces, the ape-man felt that he
might outdistance an ordinary lion; but Belthar was no ordinary lion.
He was the result of generations of breeding that had resulted in the
power of sustaining great speed for a much longer time than would have
been possible for a wild lion, and of all the hunting lions of Cathne
Belthar was the best.
At the hundredth pace Tarzan leaped forward at top speed. Behind him he
heard the frenzied roar of the hunting lion as his leashes were slipped
and, mingling with it, the roar of the crowd.
Smoothly and low ran Belthar, the hunting lion, swiftly closing up the
distance that separated him from the quarry. He looked neither to right
nor to left; his fierce, blazing eyes remained fixed upon the fleeing
man ahead.
Behind him rolled the chariot of the Queen, the drivers goading their
lions to greater speed that Nemone might be in at the kill, yet Belthar
outdistanced them as though they were rooted to the ground. The Queen,
in her excitement, was standing erect, screaming encouragement to
Belthar. Her eyes blazed scarcely less fiercely than those of the
savage carnivore she cheered on; her bosoms rose and fell to her
excited breathing; her heart raced with the racing death ahead. The
Queen of Cathne was consumed by the passion of love turned to hate.
The nobles, the warriors, and the crowd were streaming after the
chariot of the Queen. Belthar was gaining on the quarry when Tarzan
turned suddenly to the east toward the river after he had passed
the end of the gantlet that had held him to a straight path at the
beginning of his flight.
A scream of rage burst from the lips of Nemone as she saw and realized
the purpose of the quarry. A sullen roar rose from the pursuing crowd.
They had not thought that the hunted man had a chance, but now they
understood that he might yet reach the river and the forest. This, of
course, did not mean to them that he would then escape, for they well
knew that Belthar would pursue him across the river; what they feared
was that they might be robbed of the thrills of witnessing the kill.
But presently their anger turned to relief as they saw that Belthar was
gaining on the man so rapidly that there was no chance that the latter
might reach the river before he was overhauled and dragged down.
Tarzan, too, glancing back over a bronzed shoulder, realized that the
end was near. The river was still two hundred yards away and the lion,
steadily gaining on him, but fifty.
Then the ape-man turned and waited. He stood at ease, his arms hanging
at his side; but he was alert and ready. He knew precisely what Belthar
would do, and he knew what he would do. No amount of training would
have changed the lion's instinctive method of attack; he would rush at
Tarzan, rear upon his hind feet when close, seize him with his taloned
paws and drive his great fangs through his head or neck or shoulder;
then he would drag him down and devour him.
But Tarzan had met the charge of lions before. It would not be quite
so easy for Belthar as Belthar and the screaming audience believed,
yet the ape-man guessed that, without a knife, he could do no more
than delay the inevitable. He would die fighting, however; and now, as
Belthar charged growling upon him, he crouched slightly and answered
the roaring challenge of the carnivore with a roar as savage as the
lion's.
Suddenly he detected a new note in the voice of the crowd; a note of
surprise and consternation. Belthar was almost upon him as a tawny body
streaked past the ape-man, brushing his leg as it came from behind him;
and as Belthar rose upon his hind feet fell upon him, a fury of talons
and gleaming fangs, a great lion with a golden coat and a black mane--a
mighty engine of rage and destruction.
Roaring and growling, the two great beasts rolled upon the ground as
they tore at one another with teeth and claws while the astounded
ape-man looked on and the chariot of the Queen approached, and the
breathless crowd pressed forward.
The strange lion was larger than Belthar and more powerful, a giant of
a lion in the full prime of his strength and ferocity; and he fought
as one inspired by all the demons of Hell. Presently Belthar gave him
an opening; and his great jaws closed upon the throat of the hunting
lion of Nemone, jaws that drove mighty fangs through the thick mane of
his adversary, through hide and flesh deep into the jugular of Belthar;
then he braced his feet and shook Belthar as a cat might shake a mouse,
breaking his neck.
Dropping the carcass to the ground, the victor faced the astonished
Cathneans with snarling face; then he slowly backed to where the
ape-man stood and stopped beside him, and Tarzan laid his hand upon the
black mane of Jad-bal-ja, the Golden Lion.
For a long moment there was unbroken silence as the two faced the
enemies of the lord of the jungle, and the awed Cathneans only stood
and stared; then a woman's voice rose in a weird scream. It was Nemone.
Slowly she stepped from her golden car and amidst utter silence walked
toward the carcass of the dead Belthar while her people watched her,
motionless and wondering.
She stopped with her sandalled feet touching the bloody mane of the
hunting lion and gazed down upon the dead carnivore. She might have
been in silent prayer for the minute that she stood there; then she
raised her head suddenly and looked about her. There was a wild gleam
in her eyes and she was very white, white as the ivory ornament in the
hollow of her throat.
"Belthar is dead!" she screamed, and whipping her dagger from its
sheath drove its glittering point deep into her own heart. Without a
sound she sank to her knees and toppled forward across the body of the
dead Belthar.
* * * * *
As the moon rose, Tarzan placed a final rock upon a mound of earth
beside the river that runs to Cathne through the valley of Onthar.
The warriors and the nobles and the people had followed Phordos to the
city to empty the dungeons of Nemone and proclaim Alextar King, leaving
their dead Queen lying at the edge of the Field of the Lions with the
dead Belthar.
The human service they had neglected the beast-man had performed, and
now beneath the soft radiance of an African moon he stood with bowed
head beside the grave of a woman who had found happiness at last.