Check to the Queen
From my loophole I had seen it all. From that same post of vantage, I
now beheld the arch-traitor Agno come forth at the head of his fawning
priests to do homage to his Queen. Through all the false ardor of his
congratulations, Lah had not spoken. Indeed, from the very beginning of
the conflict till now no word had passed her lips. Only in the midst of
Agno’s discourse, at a sign from their royal mistress, four slaves had
raised the body of the fallen hero, and borne him within the Palace. As
they passed, the Queen’s hand had rested lightly upon her Champion’s
forehead, in a mute caress. That was all, but I knew that Lah was not
ungrateful.
The High Priest’s long-winded flatteries were not done, when at another
sign from the Queen, the royal salute broke forth from the guard and was
echoed by the people. The mighty clamor drowned the honeyed words, and I
saw Agno’s face writhe with passion, as Lah, with an imperious gesture,
bade him stand aside. But for once her woman’s hate had outrun her
wisdom. The public affront was too great to be silently borne. Another
moment, and Agno, surrounded by his priests, had reached his raised seat
of honor, and from thence had begun a wild address to the still waiting
throng.
In the face of the late decision of Edba and of Hed, the High Priest
dared not impeach the Queen. His words, however, were aimed at her
new-born power, and they were full of painful interest to me who
listened, for they dealt with me and with my comrade, and with Astolba,
my promised bride.
“All glory, honor, and strength to Lah!” he shouted. “Friend of the
gods; heaven-born mistress of the people of the Walled City. Behold Zobo
the Mighty has wrestled, and to him belongs the victory. I, the High
Priest of the Temple, proclaim a festival; a feast of gladness and of
thanksgiving.
“On the third day hence shall it be, and on the altar of the gods will
we slay the strangers and do to death her, the Snake’s chosen bride. So
shall the Queen be rid of her enemies, peace and prosperity given to us,
and the anger of the great ones turned away.”
At these words the bloodthirsty crowd went once again wild with joy. I
saw the Queen turn as though about to speak, but the deafening clamor
would have drowned her voice. I think at least she saw Agno’s evil,
smiling face, and dared not run the risk of insult. So in proud silence
she drew back. The Palace gates closed behind her, and I, with a new
anxiety gnawing at my heart, turned also to seek my fellow-victims.
This was the sad end of a brilliant beginning. As I passed the Queen’s
private audience room, the sound of a strange low chant drew me closer.
The tapestried curtain was pulled a little aside, and within I saw the
red witch bending over a brazier, and showing dim through the blue smoke
that coiled upward, serpent-like, from the living embers. She it was who
chanted this weird monotonous refrain, and as I looked again, I beheld
Lah, pale and rigid, listening, with a look of mingled dread and
longing, to the evil song.
Then I passed onward, and as I did so, the four slaves bearing the body
of Zobo met me in the passage. I signed for them to stop, and they did
so in submissive silence. The Champion lay on his back. There were red
stains on the embroidered cloth that covered him, and the giant frame
bore marks of the past struggle, that would never be effaced. But I saw
with joy that he still breathed deeply and regularly enough, though his
wide-open eyes knew me not. They were bringing him to the Queen and to
Hubla. The magic touch of the one or the muttered spell of the other
would call back again the light of reason to those glazed, unseeing
eyes. So much I knew, for I had sojourned already long enough in the
Walled City to learn somewhat of its dark wisdom. I drew aside therefore
and let the slaves go forward with their burden.
There was deep silence within now, instead of that weird blood-curdling
chant, but its dull measures still beat upon my brain like the heavy
throb of a piston or the blow of a hammer. The desire filled me to lie
at rest and let Astolba’s white fingers smooth with light touch my weary
head. So thinking, I sought the spot where last we three had
met,—Lestrade, the maid, and I. But the place was empty. First calmly,
then with a secret dread and fevered anxiety, I sought them,—my
fellow-captives, going from room to room. But in vain. The deserted
chambers mocked me. A woman’s sandal lay upon the floor; it was small
and dainty like its owner, the fair girl whom I had lost, but it bore no
message. I picked it up and hid it safe within the folds of my tunic,
near my heart.
Then I turned, and there in ominous silence stood the Queen. Her eyes
met mine, nor did they drop or falter before the imperious question that
sprung to my lips. And when her answer came, there was new depth and new
sweetness in her voice, so that the very memory of it, even in these
days, is a charm to bind me fast.
“What is the loss of these two to me and to thee? O stranger to my gods
and to my people! through the lips of Hubla, fate hath spoken. Out of
all the world we two stand apart. For life, for death; for good, for
ill; for joy, for sorrow, thou and I, together and alone.”