THE KING JUDGES
Like the shape of a mighty wheel with four spokes was the plan of
the city of Adlaz--or more like a circle drawn around the angles of
a cross, the curved line of the outer boundary passing through the
far-flung arms. Built in a long-ago time of perils and wars, Adlaz
was a walled city, and its wall was both stout and high, and set with
many castellated towers. It was also a very ancient wall, to which its
moss-grown, weather-worn gray stones bore witness.
In all of the sweeping circumference of the outer wall, which enclosed
some ten square miles of street and square, there were four breaks
only, and those were protected by ponderous gates of bronze and guarded
well by soldiers of the king. Those breaks were where the rim of the
wheel met its four spokes. The wall was the rim. The spokes were four
wide roadways, which ran east, west, north and south from the city's
center. The hub of the wheel was a park or esplanade, fronted on all
sides by magnificent buildings in which the colored rocks hewn from the
Maeronican quarries were blended splendidly. In the very center towered
the massive structure of the Temple of the Sun, built all of white
marble, the tips of its hundred spires capped with solid gold.
Other and many streets were laid out in all directions within the
angles of the four great avenues; but none was so wide as they by many
feet. Within the wall dwelt nearly half a million souls, Maeronicans,
if one named them from their country, but loving to call themselves the
Children of Ad, after their city, which in turn drew its name from a
certain mighty king, the time of whose rule was so lost in the mists of
dim antiquity that he was little more than a tradition in the mouths of
the people.
Across from the Temple of the Sun, and in the northeast angle of the
arms of the cross, stood the palace of the kings of Maeronica, another
immense pile of masonry, built also of a solid color, not dazzling
white as was the marble of the house of the god, but the deep, rich
red of granite porphyry. Back of the palace lay the barracks of the
king's guard of half a thousand picked men, his stables, and the
quarters of countless servants. In the southwest angle was the Place of
Games--a hippodrome and circus, with an amphitheater of black basalt
of an age and splendor that would not have shamed the proudest days of
seven-hilled Rome itself, although its foundation stones were laid long
before Remus leaped over his brother's wall.
Around the hub and extending to the wall were the homes of the Children
of Ad--nobles, captains, rich idlers, merchants, money-lenders, and the
common people. In latter years, since Adlaz, strong and triumphant,
defied her enemies, it had been the pleasure of many of her wealthier
sons to build their mansions beyond the sheltering wall of the city,
and along the four splendid roadways stretched many a fair and wide
estate. Such were those the prisoners from the fademes saw as their car
was driven up the long, black road from the harbor in the mountain.
It was late afternoon, and the sun was casting his last slant rays over
the distant mountain-rim, when the car was halted at the bronze gates
of the western entrance to Adlaz. The red captain trotted his horse
forward to parley with the captain of the gate-guard and explain why he
led Brunar's horsemen, and who were these whom he brought with him to
the city. That parleying was added to by one of the riders in steel.
Whatever he told the gate-captain, it did not add to that worthy's
esteem for the captives, for he favored them with an exceedingly evil
look as they rode through his gates.
"Ugh-h," remarked Ensign Brooks, "I can't say that I care for that
party. He has a lean and hungry look. Speaking of hunger, I wonder how
soon we will get where we are going to, and whether it will be supper
time when we get there. I could eat cat right now, I'm so near to
starvation."
Oleric heard him and replied with a smile. "You shall eat soon, and of
good fare. So much at the least I can promise."
To which the ensign replied with a stare. For the young naval man did
not like the red captain and his ways, whom he blamed partly for the
loss of the _Minnetonka_ and all of the rest of the troubles, of which
this land seemed to hold a plenty.
Soon after the car entered the gates, the sunlight faded into dusk, and
then white-capped messengers passed through the streets, plucking the
cloth hoods from globes which were fixed on posts of stone at intervals
along all of the ways. From each globe, as its hood was removed, sprang
a broad circle of white light. On the tall buildings and their many
spires and on the towers of the city wall similar lights flared up.
* * * * *
Except for the quaint architecture of the place, and the strange
garb of the folk who thronged its streets, the Americans might have
imagined themselves entering some stately capital of the modern world,
and not Adlaz of Maeronica, the oldest of all peopled cities of the
earth--older, indeed, than many among the buried ruins in which
archeologists love to delve.
For its pavements were curbed and guttered, and between them and the
building fronts and lawns were walks of stone, bordered by well-ordered
rows of trees and many shrubs and beds of flowers. The people who
walked the streets, too, were quiet and orderly folk. They stared hard
at those who rode in the car, but there was no unseemly outcry. Only
an occasional shout of surprise and welcome went up as some group of
strollers recognized the merry face and flaming poll of Oleric the Red.
At all of these marvels the two Sardanians gazed wonderingly and talked
together of them in their tongue.
"Ah, surely here is one of the greatest cities of the world of men,
my prince," said the Lady Memene. "Note the mighty towers yonder and
how they flash and gleam. And the folk! In one short ride we have seen
enough of them to people two lands like our own lost Sardanes."
"Aye, Memene, these be wonders, indeed," Minos answered. "And here
is a kingdom and a city well worth the ruling over. Yet these, even
these, must be as nothing to the things beyond in the greater world,
whereof Polaris hath told us. I wonder if we shall ever reach them.
For myself, though, I find this land and its folk more to my manner of
understanding than the world-dwellers way to the north. Here, methinks,
one might, did opportunity offer, carve out a kingdom for the king that
is to come."
Memene flushed and hung her head, and the two of them lapsed into
thoughtful silence.
Truly, Minos of Sardanes lacked not in ambition.
"Too late, now, to hope to meet Bel-Ar the king before the morrow,"
Oleric said. "And perhaps that is as well. By another coming of Shamar
his wrath may have cooled somewhat, though 'twill still burn hot
enough, I'll wager."
The charioteers drove their car to the front of a long, low building,
the façade of which verged almost upon the pavement of the black avenue
which was known as Chedar's Flight, because of an ancient battle which
had been fought along its course. There, the riders of Brunar left the
car and clattered away up the street to their own place. A group of
street idlers surrounded the car and began to discuss its passengers,
taking note especially of the giant form of Minos and the beauty of the
two ladies.
"This was a palace, once, but it serves as a prison, now," Oleric said
to Polaris, as gates of bronze were thrust back and the charioteers
drove through and into a roomy court, partly paved and partly lawn and
trees. "Sorry I am, comrade, that this must be, but 'tis not of my
working."
"I blame you not, friend," said Polaris. "But other days bring other
fortunes. I do not think that I shall stay long in your prison. And it
comes to me also that your king best had let this party depart his land
in peace, else the next turn of the wheel may bring to him that which
he least desires. And I think that you may have a hand in that turn,
Oleric."
"Are you a prophet, my brother?" exclaimed Oleric, searching the face
of Polaris for a hidden meaning. "For if you be not one, then you have
a rare spirit."
"No prophet I," Polaris answered. He sprang down over the wheel and
stretched his weary limbs. "Only at times, when all seems black, my
heart does whisper courage, and then all things turn well. It did so
just now, when I saw the lights spring up along that splendid street
out there." He held up his arms and assisted Rose Emer to alight from
the car.
Oleric gazed at him curiously. "So you think that the wheel will turn,
and that I will have a hand in it, my brother, do you?" he whispered to
himself. "Perchance I shall."
He swung down from his horse and cast the reins to an attendant.
"What! Mordo! Where do you tarry? Here be guests for you," he shouted.
They stood in the dusk under the spreading boughs of an ancient oak and
waited while a tall, loosely built man, black-bearded, and clad in the
armor of gold that was the badge of power in Maeronica, came down from
a pillared porch on the other side of the court and shambled across.
They noticed that his step was somewhat uncertain, and once or twice he
stumbled as he approached.
"Mordo, captain, and keeper of the king's prison house," Oleric
muttered to Polaris. "He's a good fellow, but does love his wine cup
exceeding well."
As the prison keeper came across the stones and the grass, he shouted,
and an underling ran to him, swinging a lighted globe encaged in a
metal net. Mordo took the lamp and cast its rays on the party. His face
was flushed, and his eyes rolled until they saw Oleric. Then his mouth
gaped in a delighted grin.
"Hoy! Hoy!" he exclaimed. "By the wall and the beasts and the shadows
of the fathers of Ad, if it is not my old bottle-crony come sailing
home again! I thought my ears had lied when I heard that voice in the
dark." He set the lamp down and pitched forward, steadying himself with
his hands on Oleric's shoulders. "And the same old dekkar, eh?" (A
dekkar was a broad goldpiece of the coin of Maeronica.) "They said that
you were gone across the black river, but I believed them not. 'Not
Oleric,' I told them. 'Not so long as there is left unemptied a single
one of those long-stemmed bottles in old Mordo's cellar.' And I was
right, eh, old firetop? Ah! Many a glass shall clink to-night, and many
a rack be made lighter when Brunar and the others come."
Mordo threw his head back and laughed, a roaring gale of mirth.
"Why, I was so lonely to-night that already I have cracked two flagons,
just for the good wine's company."
"So it seems," put in Oleric, sniffing. "Are you sure there were only
two of those flagons?"
"Mayhap it was three; I care not; there's still space for more, as you
well know," Mordo replied, still shaking with laughter. He took up his
lantern again.
"But whom do you bring with you to Mordo's house?" he asked, peering
once more at the strangers. "Women, too! And pretty ones!"
"Have an end to your banter, Mordo," Oleric interposed. "These be six
guests for whom Bel-Ar will ask accounting. Hold them well. And harken,
old friend; treat them kindly and to the best you have, for they did
befriend me when I was in evil straits and sore in need of friends.
That tale you shall hear later. Now hasten and bestow them. They are
weary. And bethink you, man, your wine grows stale with waiting to be
drunk, and my throat aches for the smack of it."
* * * * *
Through his porch and into the depths of the building beyond, Mordo led
the party. Along many halls and passages he led, and through gates and
doors of bronze and steel, whereof an attendant bore the keys.
An ill place, this, to come out of, thought Polaris, noting the
strength and number of the gates. Nor did the son of the snows relish
at all the grim clanking of chains which issued from certain of the
chambers which they passed along their route.
At length the jailer paused, in a hall so wide that its boundary walls
could be seen only dimly by the light of the few globes which hung from
its pillars of black stone, and so lofty that the pillars' tops were
lost in the upper dusk. The hall was circular, and all around its walls
were the doors to lesser chambers.
"Here may your stranger friends from the sea await the pleasure of
Bel-Ar in peace," hiccoughed Mordo. "And 'tis better by far for them
than some of the places that I have below, as you know, Oleric. Kings
have sat in judgment here, and the beds in yonder chambers--queens have
slept on them. May your guests sleep well, old fox; I can offer them
no better, no better lodging place than the audience-hall of the great
King Bel-Tisam. I'll send them meat and wine. Now haste we to those
bottles. Shamar send that Brunar be not long delayed."
"Here I must leave you for a space, my friends," Oleric said. "I
would have you believe that I am not ungrateful for many good deeds
remembered, and I hope yet to find the means to repay them. To-morrow I
will go with you before Bel-Ar the king."
He bowed and went out with Mordo.
Presently came men with an abundance of fresh-cooked meats and
trenchers and tall bottles of Maeronican wine.
Little heart for conversation was there among the seven friends. Each
was busy with bitter thoughts. They ate, sitting on cushions about a
low table which the attendants spread for them at the foot of one of
the pillars. The two women, weary from the events of the day, soon went
to their rest. Old Zenas Wright was not long in following their example.
"I'm growing old, boys," he said as he left the table. "And this has
been a hard day--a terribly hard day. We appear to have strayed far
into the yesterdays. To-morrow we will talk, and it will be strange
if we cannot between us figure our way out. I don't want to leave my
old bones in this place. I intend that they shall be buried in Woodlawn
Cemetery in Buffalo, near where I was born; ah me, where I was born. I
vow and vum, I've seen some mighty queer sights since I walked up Main
Street last."
The geologist turned and trudged sturdily away to the chamber which he
had selected for his own.
Soon only Polaris and Lieutenant Everson were left in the great hall,
Janess lying stretched on the floor, his head pillowed on his hand, and
the lieutenant standing gloomily with folded arms, his back resting
against one of the pillars. For many minutes those two talked of the
things which had befallen; but neither one had a plan to offer.
"We must trust to the wit of this Oleric, of which I think he has
plenty," said Polaris at length. "I believe that he wished us no ill,
and I believe, too, that he forms some scheme for our advantage, though
what it is I cannot guess."
"I don't like him," Everson said bluntly. "He is one of this nation of
devils whose submarine sank my ship. Oh, for a few files of marines and
a couple of twelve-inch guns!"
When Everson had gone, Polaris still lay at the foot of the pillar,
thinking and planning, for he was a man in whom hope never died. He
dozed at length, but suddenly he was wide awake. And, though he did not
at once open his eyes, his wilderness-trained faculties, keen as those
of any animal, were alert and watchful.
Something had come into the hall.
Nothing in living shape ever had struck fear into the heart of Polaris,
and he had a healthy disbelief in the supernatural. He was not afraid
now. But he felt that the presence that had entered the hall was both
baleful and menacing. He felt the fixed regard of hidden eyes, and it
sent an uneasy thrill through the roots of his hair at the back of his
head. Whatever it was that had wakened him, it was not in the direction
of the chambers where the others of his party lay, but far across the
hall.
Cautiously he opened his eyes.
* * * * *
At first he could make out nothing. Then something stirred soundlessly
from behind a far pillar near the wall. Polaris stared hard, and his
eyes were almost more than mortal keen. For a fleeting instant he saw
it clearly--the shape of a tall old man with snowy beard and hair, and
with piercing eyes, full of evil. The man was dressed in flowing robes
of white, on the breast of which glittered some object of burnished
metal.
For an instant only the vision persisted on Polaris's retina. Then it
was gone, and with no sound that even his sharp ears could catch.
Polaris snapped himself to his feet and bounded across the hall on
the balls of his feet, almost as noiselessly as the shadow which had
departed. And it had departed. Along the wall and behind the pillars
Polaris glanced quickly. There was nothing there. Back of the pillar
where he had seen the white shape was the closed door of a chamber. He
tried the door and found it fast. He listened.
From the darkness beyond the closed door, he thought he heard the ghost
of a thin chuckle. Immediately his attention was drawn to another
quarter. Close behind him arose a deep growl, which had nothing ghostly
in its quality, but was most material. Polaris spun upon his heels.
Some ten feet from him, and beside one of the pillars, from the foot
of which it evidently had arisen, stood a huge dog. It was the first
animal of its kind which the son of the snows had seen in Maeronica,
and the largest he ever had set eyes on in his life; larger by far even
than gray old Marcus, his friend and comrade that he'd left behind in
Boston town.
This brute was neither Great Dane nor mastiff, though in points it
resembled both of those breeds. Its jaws were square, and its head and
neck were massive. The tips of its powerful shoulders were a long yard
up from the stone floor where it stood.
It was smooth of coat and of a glossy, blue-black color, except on its
breast, where was a triangular patch of tawny yellow. Its ears had
been clipped and stood erect and pointed. As it regarded the man, its
big eyes glittered in the dim light. Its lips were writhed back from
formidable teeth.
Another low growl rumbled from its deep chest.
Instinctively, dogs trusted Polaris. He had had much experience with
their kind, and never had he seen one that in the end he could not make
his friend. Unhesitatingly he extended his hand and crossed the floor
to where the big beast stood. He guessed that it must have come in
with the old man whom he had glimpsed, and had been left behind when
the silent visitor had made his hurried departure. As he drew nearer,
Polaris saw that the animal wore a broad leather collar, bossed with
gold.
Unhurriedly, the son of the snows approached the brute until there was
not the space of a yard between them. There he paused. The dog neither
shrank nor cowered, but waited with muscles tensed and teeth exposed.
Polaris was very watchful.
"Good fellow," he said.
At the sound of the man's voice, the dog shifted his position slightly.
His head swayed. From Polaris's face he glanced to the outstretched
hand. The bristling hackles at his neck subsided. He took a stiff
step forward, then another. The tip of his cold muzzle touched the
man's fingers. He sniffed. A long, red tongue crept forth and licked
Polaris's hand. Another step, and the brute rubbed his great head
against the man's thigh.
"Ah; I thought you would," said Polaris. "Come on." He turned and
crossed the hall to his sleeping chamber. The dog padded beside him on
silent feet. The last thing the son of the snows heard, after he had
called Brooks to take the watch, and closed his eyes to slumber, was
the sigh of the huge beast as it stretched itself before his open door.
* * * * *
Worn of body and of nerves, Polaris slumbered deeply. Shamar rose high
in the east and lighted the golden spires of his mighty temple in Adlaz
town; still the man slept on, and as he slept, he dreamed. Far into the
white, mysterious southland his fancies led, to a waste of ice and snow
and bitter winds. He drove a team of splendid dogs--his gray brothers
they seemed to be in the dream, those tried friends who had given their
lives for their master, and of whom Marcus, if he still lived, was the
last.
On the sledge which the dogs drew, rode Rose Emer, wrapped in furs,
as in truth she once had ridden. There, too--and even in the dream he
seemed strangely out of place--was the Maeronican captain. Yes, Oleric
the Red trudged through the snows beside the sledge, clad in his golden
armor, his teeth chattering in the chill blasts of the wilderness, and
bearing in his hand a naked sword.
Danger, unseen, unknown, but frightful, encompassed the wanderers in
the snow path. The dogs snarled and tore at their harness. Oleric ran
forward, waving his sword, which seemed to drip blood on the white
snows, and shouting.
"Up, brother, and call off this beast of yours!" the red captain cried.
"For soon must we go before Bel-Ar."
With those words ringing in his ears, Polaris awoke. He sprang from his
couch to the middle of the chamber. No dream's part was the shouting of
Oleric. He stood in the hall before the chamber door, his lips still
parted and a smile on his ruddy face.
And the snarling of a dog--that, too, was real.
Planted squarely in the doorway, hackles bristling, ears erect and
fangs bared, was the immense animal with which Polaris had made friends
in the night watches. All through the dark hours and the dawning, the
beast had guarded the door, suffering none to approach it. He now
barred the way to Oleric, and the chamber echoed to his angry challenge.
"By the ten kings!" exclaimed the captain with a laugh. "You do raise
up friends wherever you go, my brother. Here is one that dearly would
love to make a breakfast off my lean shanks, armored as they are, and
all because I would tell you that Shamar has brought to us another day."
At the call of Polaris, the dog backed out of the doorway, but still
with a wary and suspicious eye to the movements of the red captain.
Mordo, the prison captain, was not in attendance, but certain of his
servants were spreading the table near the center of the hall. The
Americans and the Sardanians were gathered in a group about one of the
pillars.
Everson looked wan, like one whose pillow had been ridden by evil
visions. The others of the party seemed in better spirits and were
talking among themselves. Zenas Wright gave evidence that his
scientific zeal had only lain dormant. For now he noted all about him
with a keen and kinding interest, paying his attention especially to
the architecture of the lordly hall which had housed them, and its
sculptures, of which there were many. Young Brooks' interest was fully
as keen, if more material, as that of the geologist. The eyes of the
ensign were all for the table preparations.
Seeing the party thus, and the broad bands of sunlight which streamed
into the hall through windows of crystal high in the masonry, Polaris
grew shamefaced.
"Now it seems that I alone, who of all should be wakeful, have slept
dully like a wintered bear," he muttered.
"'Tis well. You have gained strength which perhaps shall not come
amiss," Oleric answered.
Near the center of the hall a fountain played, its spray falling
through a bar of sunshine which changed the silver drops to gold as
they fell. Calling his morning greetings to his friend, Polaris went
thither and laved his face and hands and smoothed his mass of tawny
hair. The dog followed close at heel and lapped greedily from the
fountain's basin.
"Strange that this brute should be here," said Oleric. "Do you know
what manner of beast this is that so befriends you, Polaris?"
Polaris shook his head; nor did he at that time see fit to acquaint
Oleric with the circumstances of the dog's appearance.
"This is one of the dogs the priests keep at the temple of Shamar," the
captain informed. "There are few of the breed in the land, and all are
at the temples of the god in the cities. Almost as sacred are these
brutes as are the bulls, whereof you already know, and are likely to
learn more. The holy men do say of them that they are dwelt in by the
souls of heroes passed away, whom Shamar chooses to guard his temple
gates, even as the bulls are inhabited by the souls of dead kings.
"I do not believe such tales," he added quickly. "But now you will
see why Bel-Ar will be more than passing wroth at the death of the
bull, believing as he does that it is a dwelling place for one of his
ancestors, and that you may, indeed, have slain his father or his
grandfather."
Oleric, who had breakfasted, sat by while the others ate. The dog,
from the collar of which the captain read the name Rombar, signifying
thunder, stood behind the seat of Polaris and ate with dignity whatever
his self-appointed master passed to him. But he would take food from no
other hand, not even from Rose Emer, who liked all dogs.
Thereafter, sleeping or waking, the huge beast remained at Polaris's
side, and none could coax him thence. And many Maeronicans deemed that
strange. But as no man, not even Shamar's priests, dared to interfere
with the sacred brutes, except when they played their parts in the
ceremonials of the god, the attendance of Rombar upon the stranger was
permitted.
Under a guard of mailed foot-soldiers, led by Brunar, who was a captain
in the palace regiment, the prisoners were marched from the ancient
palace of Bel-Tisam to the newer palace of Bel-Ar. At their right, as
they passed up the street called Chedar's Flight, was the wall, pierced
by many gateways, of the Place of Games, with its basalt amphitheater
and its arena.
As they passed they heard the hoofs of galloping steeds, the rumble of
chariot wheels, and the cries of the charioteers, where the young lords
of Adlaz exercised their horses. From slits in the wall low down near
the pavement, issued the howling and snarling of wild beasts; for a
menagerie was a part of the equipment of the Place of Games.
* * * * *
Beyond the hippodrome, their way led around half the circle of the
broad drive on which the four main avenues gave, and which surrounded
the wonderful gardens of the Temple of the Sun. The Americans, three
of whose number were widely traveled, marveled anew at the splendor of
that mighty pile of white marble, its lofty columns, towers and domes,
dazzling in the sunlight, their golden caps ablaze. Luxor and Karnac in
the days when Pharaoh Rameses ruled in Egypt could not have shown the
equal of this structure.
With armed men clanking on each side, the captives entered through a
massive peristyle of vari-colored pillars which was the portal to the
house of the king. Along a corridor in which four elephants might have
found way and clearance to walk abreast, the guards conducted them. At
each end of the corridor there stood ajar tall gates of bronze, their
bars interlaced with heavy patterns of gleaming gold, encrusted with
the luminous metal, known in Maeronica as orichalcum, and set with many
precious gems.
Through the second gateway the prisoners were marched, and were in the
audience chamber of Bel-Ar, the great king. It was similar in shape to
the place where they had been quartered for the night; but there all
similitude ceased. Bel-Tisam of old had sat in a plain and massive hall
and been content. The house of Bel-Ar held treasures in metals and gems
on its sculptured walls and pillars, aye, and on its floors, too, which
could have paid the national debt of a wide and wasteful state.
Dull gold smoldered underfoot in the mosaic of the pavement. Gold
and orichalcum glittered and shimmered on pillar and wall. Chairs
and tables of stone and bronze and polished woods were heavy with
the precious metal. Set in the bases of the seventy and six pillars
which upheld the roof were patterns gorgeous in agate, lapis-lazuli,
turquoise, quartz, and rock-crystal. Other and similar panels
adorned the walls. Farther up, where the work in gold and orichalcum
began--placed so high, perhaps, to be out of reach of avaricious
fingers--were more precious stones. There topaz, moonstone, amethyst,
opal, sapphire, diamond, and priceless ruby and emerald flaunted their
hundred fires.
"Lordy!" muttered Zenas Wright under his breath to Ensign Brooks as
they crossed the hall. "Give me a pick and a ladder and a half hour
alone in which to use them, and you may have and welcome the rubies of
Sardanes which went down with the _Minnetonka_."
Near a fountain, the jets of which fell and flowed over a grotto of
opalescent glass lighted from within, sat the master of all this
splendor, Bel-Ar, king of Maeronica and lord of the underseas. On no
raised dais or lofty throne sat this monarch who was absolute in his
own land. A high-backed chair of carved black wood sufficed him, raised
from the flooring on a single slab of red porphyry, scarcely twelve
inches high. On another chair at his right sat his queen. The two
were in the center of a wide crescent of seats and benches, whereon
sat the nobles and ladies of Maeronica who made up the court. Without
the semicircle stood attendants and slaves. Farther back, ranged in
a double line, was one full company, one hundred men, of the palace
guard, all in bronze mail, and each carrying his bared sword.
Like a dull moth among a concourse of gaudy and fluttering butterflies
was this powerful Maeronican king. He was attired simply in cloth
of dark blue. A cloak of the same material had fallen back from his
shoulders. On his knee rested a flat black cap of the same pattern
that his meanest sailors wore. Only a light circlet of twisted gold,
fashioned in the semblance of a slender serpent, set on his heavy
black hair above his temples, and a short, broad sword which swung at
his belt, distinguished the garb of Bel-Ar from that of the ordinary
citizen of Adlaz.
Seeing these things, one looked into the king's face for royalty,
and found it there. He sat with an elbow on the arm of his chair,
his chin cupped in his right hand, so that it hid his mouth. His
forehead was broad and low, his nose short and tilted slightly at
its tip. His cheeks were rounded and well-shaped. His ears, almost
hidden in the black hair, which was cut evenly around his neck, were
small and delicately turned as a woman's. But every other feature was
cast into insignificance and forgotten, when one looked at the king's
eyes. Set far apart, they were extraordinarily large, and black, so
that iris and pupil seemed as one. They were the eyes of a mystic, a
far-seeing dreamer, but filled with subdued fires; eyes of a strong and
self-willed man, one not to be tampered with or led. In contrast to
them, the skin of the face was fair, almost pallid. The king's figure
was above medium height, broad and powerfully framed. His years were
not more than thirty-seven.
As the prisoners were brought near to him, Bel-Ar had fallen into a fit
of abstraction. He gazed fixedly across the hall, seeing it not, nor
its people and its walls. At his feet a little slave boy sat asleep,
his head leaned against the leg of his king's chair, his small golden
harp fallen across his lap.
If Bel-Ar was the dull moth, his consort, Queen Raissa, who sat beside
him, was the most gorgeous of all the butterflies. She was younger than
the king, by a full ten years. Her face was small and flower-like, with
pouting lips and proud blue eyes that shone like stars. Hair yellow as
the golden, shell-shaped comb which was set in it, was piled high on
her head, and was yet in such abundance that two heavy braids fell down
across her shoulders. She was robed in a graceful gown of pale blue,
the bodice of which blazed with gems. Her fingers toyed with a costly
fan, whereof the stem was ivory and the sticks the colored plumes of
rare birds. She gazed curiously at the strangers whom the soldiers
brought in, and when her eyes alighted upon Oleric they became eager.
* * * * *
At the edge of the open space just beyond the semicircle of the
courtiers, the guards halted. For a few moments the silence in the hall
was broken only by the low-toned gossip of gay lords and ladies, who
paid scant attention to guards or prisoners. Then the queen touched
Bel-Ar's knee with her fan and spoke a few words in his ear. He started
from his reverie.
"Come hither, Brunar," he said in a deep, low voice. As he raised his
head, it was to be seen that his chin was square and heavy, but that
his mouth was lacking in the strength of his other features.
Brunar made his report, and was replaced by Oleric the Red, who bowed
low before the king, his ready smile playing about his lips.
"You would make report of a fademe lost, Captain Oleric," said the
king. "Doubtless a small matter to you, but meaning much to me, who ill
can spare my fademes." He frowned.
"Not so, O king," replied the captain, composing his features and
speaking earnestly. "As you know, not all of our engineers have learned
to govern wisely the mighty force that gives the fademes life."
Bel-Ar nodded. "That is true," he said. "Now what of this engineer of
yours?"
"Why, he was a careless fellow, and whoof! one day under his hands went
engine and fademe. They lie in fragments on the sea-bottom near the
great south cape on the way to the ocean named Pacific, and the crew
lies with them."
"How is it, then, that you stand here to make report?"
"My star watched over me, O king. I floated to the surface, alone of
all the fademe's crew. On the wreckage of the cabin I floated. I had
by me my hamess (mask). I donned it. Later my senses departed me. I
was taken up by a ship from the northern world, and was treated with
kindness by these whom you see here. Driven by storm, that ship came to
the coast of Maeronica, and--"
"Enough; I had the rest of the tale from Brunar," interposed Bel-Ar.
"But of your mission to the far Pacific? What of that?" questioned
Raissa, leaning forward eagerly.
Again Oleric smiled, and smiling, drew from his belt a small leather
bag. He advanced, and kneeling, handed the bag to the queen.
"Oh! Lovely!" she gasped as she poured a part of its contents into her
palm--pearls, five score or more of them, as fine as ever came from the
ocean bed, she held. One great and lustrous globe of faint rose-pink
she seized upon with a cry of delight. She held it out toward the
king. "See! Is it not beautiful?" she exclaimed. She turned to the red
captain.
"You have done well, indeed, good Oleric," she said quickly. "My king
shall forgive you for the lost fademe, the losing of which was surely
no fault of yours. And these--these be worth many fademes to me." She
selected two of the pearls of fair size and goodly sheen and gave them
to Oleric.
"You did venture your life to get them. Perchance some maid of Adlaz
town shall look on you more kindly for the gift," she said.
Bel-Ar frowned; then he smiled, too.
"Well, Raissa has said it. I must agree, I suppose. I forgive you the
fademe," he said, somewhat dryly, while the lords and ladies laughed.
"Only sail no more ships at present, captain. Get you to the harbor,
and there for a space relieve Atlo as captain of the port. I have need
of him at the Kimbrian Wall, where the robbers of Ruthar have grown
overbold.
"Now, another matter." The king's brow clouded. "Which of these
foreigners slew the bull of Shamar? This one surely." He pointed to
Minos. "Never saw I such a man."
"No, O king, not he," Oleric said. "He is from a far land in the
southern snow wastes, which was destroyed by the earth-fires. There he
was the king. The other one, the golden-haired man, it was, who slew
the bull--to save a child--"
"Have done. The reason for the deed avails him not," Bel-Ar broke in.
"Have him come hither, that I may judge."
* * * * *
Oleric fetched Polaris Janess into the space before the throne. The son
of the snows advanced with a firm step and halted directly in front of
Bel-Ar, where he gazed at the king with steady eyes. Close at his heels
came the great dog Rombar.
"Why does the man not bow?" inquired Bel-Ar harshly. "Where learned he
his manners? And how does it come that he is attended by a sacred dog
of Shamar, that seems ready to do battle for him?"
In truth, Rombar, who feared not kings, was ready for battle. He stood
at the side of Polaris, his hackles raised and a rumbling challenge in
his throat.
Bel-Ar regarded the pair of them sternly, though many in his court
found much to admire in the powerful form and steadfast demeanor of the
son of the wilderness.
Oleric spoke hastily in English. "Bow, brother; bow to the king; though
I fear that 'twill not mend matters," he grumbled.
Polaris inclined his head shortly and continued to meet the gaze of the
angered king. "His bow is grudging enough," said Bel-Ar to the captain;
"but no matter."
Just then a tall old man in white and flowing robes came forward to
the left of Bel-Ar's seat. He was lean of face, like an ancient hawk,
and like a hawk's was his thin, curved beak. His eyes glittered with
malice. On his breast, done in gold in the garment he wore, was the
likeness of the rising sun, the insignia of the priests of Shamar.
Well Polaris knew that shape and face. It was the master chuckler that
had disturbed him the night before.
"This man is marked by Shamar," the priest said in a high, cracked
voice, and regarding Polaris hatefully. "As for the dog, 'tis sent by
the god to watch that the man escape not his doom."
"Oleric, hold your peace," said Bel-Ar, as the stout captain was about
to speak. "And flout not the holy Rhaen, lest it be the worse for
you. I will judge." The king paused and ran his eyes over the other
prisoners.
"He that slew the sacred bull, he shall be given over to the servants
of Shamar, to be done with as the god shall will at the feast of years.
He that was a king, he shall now serve a greater king. Let him be sent
to the harbor, where strong backs are always welcome. The other two
young men shall go into my mines. The old one shall be a scullion in my
kitchens, as harder work doubtless would kill him.
"Take the two women and the slayer of the bull to the prison and keep
them fast until Shamar claims them for the feast. The women must die.
The law commands that no foreign woman, however fair, shall live in
Maeronica. So may the ancient blood never be tainted. I have judged.
Let it be so, and so writ down, unless the holy Rhaen, chief servant to
Shamar, has other claims." Bel-Ar looked inquiringly at the priest.
Now it chanced that Lieutenant Everson, face to face with the man by
whose decree his ship had perished, had fixed on the king a glance of
undying hatred. None had noted it except the priest, Rhaen, who saw all
things. He now asked that the naval man be turned over to the god along
with Polaris. Bel-Ar nodded his assent.
At a sign from the king, Oleric led Polaris back to his companions.
The judgment was ended. The guards closed in around the prisoners and
marched them away.