Zobo the Mighty Wrestles
I would have made a fight for it even then. Had Lestrade and I been
alone, I would in truth have done so, but I knew that the sentinel was
in easy call of his fellows, and Astolba’s presence held my hands.
The insolence of Hubla’s fiendish laughter choked me with rage, but I
met her taunts in silence; and if Lestrade had but followed my lead in
the matter, the red witch would have lacked food for merriment.
As for Astolba—the poor maid was crushed. So near to freedom, and now
back to the manifold horrors of the gorgeous gilded cage we called our
prison. She followed blindly, as one in a dream, and her white face was
the best spur to my resolve to save her. This attempt should not be the
last. Edba and Hed and all the powers of darkness; the Queen, the
priests, the ravening mob,—all against one man’s promise; yet even in
the face of this disgraceful entry to the Palace I bound myself again by
a new oath, Astolba should be saved.
I like not to think even now of that disgraceful journey to the royal
house. I saw the frenzied people shrink from the hag who drove us
reluctant onward; even the priests turned aside in fear at her approach.
Thus in the early dawn we came, unmolested and unquestioned, to the
secret entrance by which we had left. The guard received us. I saw Hubla
whisper a word into the ear of Zobo, and he ungraciously bade us enter.
The smiling, malicious face of the red witch was for an instant pressed
close to mine. I drew back with a smothered exclamation of disgust. Her
jeering laugh rang again through the stone corridor, and she had gone.
May she receive a just reward! Through her we were once more prisoners.
After an hour’s rest I sought the Queen, for it was no plan of mine to
make, without need, a new enemy. One glance at her face assured me that,
for reasons of her own, Hubla had kept our secret. As for Zobo, I had no
fear. It was for his interest, as much as mine, that he should be silent
as to that night’s doings.
Lah was pacing up and down the open court where she was wont to receive
me. The tinkling fountain, the tapestries, the jewelled banquet cups,
the heavy perfumed flowers, the Queen’s very beauty, filled me with a
new unrest, but I hid the feeling. Lah was hardly mistress of herself in
that hour, else it was very like she would have read me. As it was, I
saw that something of importance had happened, and that for the time, at
least, I was quite safe.
“Agno’s messenger has but now gone,” she said. “Some day I will have the
neck of that arch-traitor, the High Priest, beneath my heel. But now he
knows his power, yet knowing it fears mine.
“This then is his message. The justice of our quarrel shall the gods
decide. To-day, if so it be my will, Zobo shall wrestle with the Head
Man of Edba’s Temple. I know the fellow; he is a giant in size and
strength, but slow of wit.
“Agno believes that my faithful Captain is worn with lack of sleep and
much watching. It is also in the compact that the People’s Champion be
oiled from head to foot; he alone, not Zobo. Then shall these two
wrestle, and from the gods, judgment. Zobo holds the guard still loyal.
If he be slain, then I look for such mercy as the priests may show. But
if he be the victor—”
The Queen’s eyes glowed with a strange fire. “Then am I once more in my
rightful place, the mistress of my people,—” she spoke softly,—“and
revenge is strangely sweet.”
I stood in silence before her, and Lah took up again the thread of her
discourse.
“Behold, every day we grow weaker, and the food less. I had not thought
to be a captive in mine own Palace, nor had I thought to give my heart
into another’s keeping, as weaker women do. Yet have both issues come to
pass.”
She turned once more to me. “My Dering, I had looked to ask thy wisdom
in this matter; but no. On me alone shall rest the burden.”
She clapped her hands, and a slave came forward and stood with folded
arms and bowed head, awaiting the royal word.
“Go, bid my ministers proclaim from the Palace walls my answer, for
which the High Priest waits. Before the people, at the third hour, shall
Zobo the Mighty wrestle, and to the friend of Edba and of Hed, victory.”
And thus the die was cast. I cannot tell with what feverish eagerness I
awaited the result of this new move in the game, whose stakes were life
and death. Lestrade was wild with alternate thrills of joy and fear when
I told him of the matter. That was his nature. As for me, I saw well
what the Queen’s defeat would mean to us, her captives, but I confess
that the thought of her victory raised little hope in my breast.
As for the maid, to the blackness of Astolba’s despair there was just
then no light. The poor girl was haunted by the thought of the flower of
death, and the horror of it did what I much doubted the evil blossom
itself could do. She was wasting away, and kisses, even mine, could not
call back again, as once, the pretty color to her white cheeks. I did my
best to comfort her, however, and when the third hour—the time appointed
for the wrestling—came, Lestrade arrived and took my place beside her.
So, knowing Astolba to be in good hands, I again sought the Queen, and
found from her that the meeting was to be in the open square before the
Palace walls.
Already this was black with the mass of waiting people. From within I
could see all that went on below, but it irked me that Lah had forbidden
me to join her.
A raised platform, richly ornamented and hung with multicolored silks,
had been hastily set up directly before the great centre gate. This gate
had been opened, and there the Queen was to sit enthroned and surrounded
by the guard.
As I watched all this, Zobo passed me, coming from the royal apartments.
His face wore a look of such pure and noble resolve and such exalted
happiness, that I lowered my eyes before the light in his, with a
feeling near to envy, savage and worshipper of idols though he was.
A few moments later and a roar from the mob without bade me look quickly
forth. The Queen in all the magnificence of her public presence had
taken her place, and the people, from mingled awe, or the force of
habit, had given the royal salute.
Even at the distance at which I sat, I thought I could see, through my
loophole, the frown on Agno’s lowering face; but again a tumult of
cheers and cries drew my wandering gaze.
The Head Man of Edba’s Temple had stepped into the cleared circle. My
spirits raised by my ancient enemy’s discomfiture, sank like lead, at
the sight of this giant figure. He stood motionless, stolidly waiting
for the tumult of welcoming cheers to cease, till at last, at a signal
from Agno, silence fell.
Thus it was in the midst of an ominous calm that Zobo, the Queen’s
Champion, took his place. They stood together for a moment, by an evil
design of the High Priest, I doubt not; for it was all too plain that
the Head Man’s enormous bulk dwarfed even the burly form of the Captain
of the Royal Guard. But in that moment I remembered the look that I had
surprised on the face of the friend of Lah, and remembering, hoped on.
Then as I gazed thus, the High Priest’s staff clanged once upon the
stone beneath his feet, and the two men fell back. They stood eying each
other warily, like two great dogs set on to fight. This was to be no
common wrestling, for no common stake, and at the latter end it was the
victor alone who should leave the field.
I looked at the Queen. She was gently smiling, but I saw her hand
tighten on the arm of her throne. At the same moment a savage, exultant
roar broke from the waiting throng. The two men had clenched. I saw the
glistening limbs of the Head Man wound, snake-like, about the body of
his enemy, and, snake-like, slip from the iron grip of the Queen’s
Champion. Now one had the vantage, now the other.
It was so still that I could hear the hoarse breathing of the wrestlers.
Then I laughed aloud, for Zobo’s mighty arms were about the trunk of his
foe, and I thought the giant’s ribs would crack beneath the strain. But
the next instant the Head Man was free again, and with a dexterous twist
was interlocked once more with his enemy. I knew the trick of that fall
and my heart sank. Zobo staggered, and was down.
A mighty shout rose from the priestly ranks, and I saw the Queen lean
forward and fix her eyes on the agonized face of her gallant Captain.
The giant was grinding the life out of his fallen foe. I turned away,
sick with the horror of it, but a terrible fascination drew me back.
Zobo was looking straight into the eyes of the woman he loved, and as he
did so, that strange, glad, pure light in his, shone forth, undimmed,
once more.
With a superhuman effort he raised himself on his arm. The next, he was
on his feet once more, his hands at the Head Man’s throat. I saw the
giant beat the air for an instant with a wild and futile motion. Then
the voice of the High Priest rose shrill in the awful quiet, bidding the
wrestlers cease. But too late. For even as his words rang out, the
massive form of Zobo’s foe relaxed, hung limp for a moment, then struck
the ground with a dull, lifeless thud.
Zobo, turning, walked straight to the throne of Lah. As he reached it, I
saw his lips move in a vain effort at speech. Then his giant body swayed
and fell heavily. The Queen’s Champion lay, face downward, at her feet,
his hand holding fast the hem of her garment.
From the ranks of the people burst forth the thunder of applause. For,
behold the gods had sat in judgment. The Queen was guiltless, and the
day was won.