Rhonda Terry fought to escape the clutches of the great beast thing
that held her, but she was helpless in the grasp of those giant
muscles. The creature lifted her easily and tucked her under one arm.
"Be quiet," it said, "or I'll wring your neck."
"You had better not," cautioned his companion. "God will be angry if
you do not bring this one to him alive and unharmed. He has been hoping
for such a she as this for a long time."
"What does _he_ want of her? He is so old now that he can scarcely chew
his food."
"He will probably give her to Henry the Eighth."
"He already has seven wives. I think that I shall hide her and keep her
for myself."
"You will take her to God," said the other. "If you don't, I will."
"We'll see about that!" cried the creature that held the girl.
He dropped her and sprang, growling, upon his fellow. As they closed,
great fangs snapping, Rhonda leaped to her feet and sought to escape.
The whole thing seemed a hideous and grotesque nightmare, yet it was so
real that she could not know whether or not she were dreaming.
As she bolted, the two ceased their quarrelling and pursued her. They
easily overtook her, and once again she was a captive.
"You see what will happen," said the beast that had wished to take her
to God, "if we waste time quarrelling over her. I will not let you have
her unless God gives her to you."
The other grumbled and tucked the girl under his arm again. "Very
well," he said, "but Henry the Eighth won't get her. I'm sick of that
fellow. He thinks he is greater than God."
With the agility of monkeys the two climbed up the tall trees and
precarious ledges they had descended while Rhonda Terry closed her eyes
to shut out the terror of the dizzy heights and sought to convince
herself that she was dreaming.
But the reality was too poignant. Even the crass absurdity of the
situation failed to convince her. She knew that she was not dreaming
and that she was really in the power of two huge gorillas who spoke
English with a marked insular accent. It was preposterous, but she knew
that it was true.
To what fate were they bearing her? From their conversation she had an
inkling of what lay in store for her. But who was Henry the Eighth? And
who was God?
Up and up the beast bore her until at last they stood upon the summit
of the escarpment. Below them, to the south, the river plunged over the
edge of the escarpment to form Omwamwi Falls; to the north stretched a
valley hemmed in by mountains--the valley of diamonds, perhaps.
The surprise, amounting almost to revulsion, that she had experienced
when she first heard the two beasts speak a human language had had a
strange effect upon her in that while she understood that they were
speaking English it had not occurred to her that she could communicate
with them in the same language--the adventure seemed so improbable that
perhaps she still doubted her own senses.
The first shock of capture had been neutralized by the harrowing ascent
of the escarpment and the relief at gaining the top in safety. Now
she had an instant in which to think clearly, and with it came the
realization that she had the means of communicating with her captors.
"Who are you?" she demanded, "and why have you made me prisoner?"
"She speaks English!" exclaimed one of them.
"Of course I speak English. But tell me what you want of me. You have
no right to take me with you. I have not harmed you. I was only
waiting for my own people. Let me go!"
"This will please God," said one of her captors. "He has always said
that if he could get hold of an English woman he could do much for the
race."
"Who is this thing you call God?" she demanded.
"He is not a thing--he is a man," replied the one who had carried her
up the escarpment. "He is very old--he is the oldest creature in the
world and the wisest. He created us. But some day he will die, and then
we shall have no god."
"Henry the Eighth would like to be God," said the other.
"He never will while Wolsey lives--Wolsey would make a far better god
than he."
"Henry the Eighth will see that he doesn't live."
Rhonda Terry closed her eyes and pinched herself. She must be dreaming!
Henry the Eighth! Thomas Wolsey! How preposterous seemed these familiar
allusions to sixteenth century characters from the mouths of hairy
gorillas.
The two brutes had not paused at the summit of the escarpment, but had
immediately commenced the descent into the valley. Neither of them,
not even the one that had carried her up the steep ascent, showed the
slightest sign of fatigue even by accelerated breathing.
The girl was walking now, though one of the brutes held her by an arm
and jerked her roughly forward when her steps lagged.
"I cannot walk so fast," she said finally. "I have not eaten for a long
time, and I am weak."
Without a word the creature gathered her under one arm and continued on
down into the valley. Her position was uncomfortable, she was weak and
frightened. Several times she lost consciousness.
How long that journey lasted she did not know. When she was conscious
her mind was occupied by futile speculation as to the fate that
lay ahead of her. She tried to visualize the _God_ of these brutal
creatures. What mercy, what pity might she expect at the hands of
such a thing?--if, indeed, their god existed other than in their
imaginations.
After what seemed a very long time the girl heard voices in the
distance, growing louder as they proceeded; and soon after he who
carried her set her upon her feet.
As she looked about her she saw that she stood at the bottom of a cliff
before a city that was built partially at the foot of the cliff and
partially carved from its face.
The approach to the city was bordered by great fields of bamboo,
celery, fruits, and berries in which many gorillas were working with
crude, handmade implements.
As they caught sight of the captive these workers left their fields and
clustered about asking many questions and examining the girl with every
indication of intelligent interest, but her captors hurried her along
into the city.
Here again they were surrounded by curious crowds; but nowhere was any
violence offered the captive, the attitude of the gorillas appearing
far more friendly than that which she might have expected from human
natives of this untracked wilderness.
That portion of the city that was built upon the level ground at the
foot of the cliff consisted of circular huts of bamboo with thatched
conical roofs, of rectangular buildings of sun dried bricks, and others
of stone.
Near the foot of the cliff was a three-story building with towers and
ramparts, roughly suggestive of medieval England; and farther up the
cliff, upon a broad ledge, was another even larger structure of similar
architecture.
Rhonda's captors led her directly to the former building, before the
door of which squatted two enormous gorillas armed with crude weapons
that resembled battle axes; and here they were stopped while the two
guards examined Rhonda and questioned her captors.
Again and again the girl tried to convince herself that she was
dreaming. All her past experience, all her acquired knowledge
stipulated the utter absurdity of the fantastic experiences of the
past few hours. There could be no such things as gorillas that spoke
English, tilled fields, and lived in stone castles. And yet here were
all these impossibilities before her eyes as concrete evidence of their
existence.
She listened as one in a dream while her captors demanded entrance that
they might take their prisoner before the king; she heard the guard
demur, saying that the king could not be disturbed as he was engaged
with the Privy Council.
"Then we'll take her to God," threatened one of her captors, "and when
the king finds out what you have done you'll be working in the quarry
instead of sitting here in the shade."
Finally a young gorilla was summoned and sent into the palace with a
message. When he returned it was with the word that the king wished to
have the prisoner brought before him at once.
Rhonda was conducted into a large room the floor of which was covered
with dried grass. On a dais at one end of the room an enormous gorilla
paced to and fro while a half dozen other gorillas squatted in the
grass at the foot of the dais--enormous, shaggy beasts, all.
There were no chairs nor tables nor benches in the room, but from the
center of the dais rose the bare trunk and leafless branches of a tree.
As the girl was brought into the room the gorilla on the dais stopped
his restless pacing and scrutinized her. "Where did you find her,
Buckingham?" he demanded.
"At the foot of the falls, Sire," replied the beast that had captured
her.
"What was she doing there?"
"She said that she was looking for her friends, who were to meet her at
the falls."
"She _said_! You mean that she speaks English?" demanded the king.
"Yes, I speak English," said Rhonda; "and if I am not dreaming, and you
are king, I demand that you send me back to the falls, so that I may
find my people."
"Dreaming? What put that into your head? You are not asleep, are you?"
"I do not know," replied Rhonda. "Sometimes I am sure that I must be."
"Well, you are not," snapped the king. "And who put it into your
head that there might be any doubt that I am king? That sounds like
Buckingham."
"Your majesty wrongs me," said Buckingham stiffly. "It was I who
insisted on bringing her to the king."
"It is well you did; the wench pleases us. We will keep her."
"But, your majesty," exclaimed the other of Rhonda's two captors, "it
is our duty to take her to God. We brought her here first that your
majesty might see her; but we must take her on to God, who has been
hoping for such a woman for years."
"What, Cranmer! Are you turning against me too?"
"Cranmer is right," said one of the great bulls squatting on the floor.
"This woman should be taken to God. Do not forget, Sire, that you
already have seven wives."
"That is just like you, Wolsey," snapped the king peevishly. "You are
always taking the part of God."
"We must all remember," said Wolsey, "that we owe everything to God. It
was he who created us. He made us what we are. It is he who can destroy
us."
The king was pacing up and down the straw covered dais rapidly. His
eyes were blazing, his lips drawn back in a snarl. Suddenly he stopped
by the tree and shook it angrily as though he would tear it from the
masonry in which it was set. Then he climbed quickly up into a fork
and glared down at them. For a moment he perched there, but only for a
moment. With the agility of a small monkey he leaped to the floor of
the dais. With his great fists he beat upon his hairy breast, and from
his cavernous lungs rose a terrific roar that shook the building.
"I am king!" he screamed. "My word is law. Take the wench to the
women's quarters!"
The beast the king had addressed as Wolsey now leaped to his feet and
commenced to beat his breast and scream. "This is sacrilege," he cried.
"He who defies God shall die. That is the law. Repent, and send the
girl to God!"
"Never!" shrieked the king. "She is mine."
Both brutes were now beating their breasts and roaring so loudly that
their words could scarcely be distinguished; and the other bulls were
moving restlessly, their hair bristling, their fangs bared.
Then Wolsey played his ace. "Send the girl to God," he bellowed, "or
suffer excommunication!"
But the king had now worked himself to such a frenzy that he was beyond
reason. "The guard! The guard!" he screamed. "Suffolk, call the guard,
and take Cardinal Wolsey to the tower! Buckingham, take the girl to the
women's quarters or off goes your head."
The two bulls were still beating their breasts and screaming at one
another as Rhonda Terry was dragged from the apartment by the shaggy
Buckingham.
Up a circular stone stairway the brute dragged her and along a corridor
to a room at the rear of the second floor. It was a large room in the
corner of the building, and about its grass strewn floor squatted or
lay a number of adult gorillas, while young ones of all ages played
about or suckled at their mothers' breasts.
Many of the beasts were slowly eating celery stalks, tender bamboo
tips, or fruit; but all activity ceased as Buckingham dragged the
American girl into their midst.
"What have you there, Buckingham?" growled an old she.
"A girl we captured at the falls," replied Buckingham. "The king
commanded that she be brought here, your majesty." Then he turned to
his captive. "This is Queen Catherine," he said, "Catherine of Aragon."
"What does he want of her?" demanded Catherine peevishly.
Buckingham shrugged his broad shoulders and glanced about the room at
the six adult females. "Your majesties should well be able to guess."
"Is he thinking of taking that puny, hairless thing for a wife?"
demanded another, sitting at a little distance from Catherine of Aragon.
"Of course that's what he's thinking of, Anne Boleyn," snapped
Catherine; "or he wouldn't have sent her here."
"Hasn't he got enough wives already?" demanded another.
"That is for the king to decide," said Buckingham as he quitted the
room.
Now the great shes commenced to gather closer to the girl. They sniffed
at her and felt of her clothing. The younger ones crowded in, pulling
at her skirt. One, larger than the rest, grabbed her by the ankles and
pulled her feet from under her; and, as she fell, it danced about the
room, grimacing and screaming.
As she tried to rise it rushed toward her; and she struck it in the
face, thinking it meant to injure her. Whereupon it ran screaming to
Catherine of Aragon, and one of the other shes seized Rhonda by the
shoulder and pushed her so violently that she was hurled against the
wall.
"How dare you lay hands on the Prince of Wales!" cried the beast that
had pushed her.
The Prince of Wales, Catherine of Aragon, Anne Boleyn! If not asleep,
Rhonda Terry was by this time positive that she had gone mad. What
possible explanation could there be for such a mad burlesque in which
gorillas acted the parts and spoke with the tongues of men?--what other
than the fantasy of sleep or insanity? None.
She sat huddled against the wall where she had fallen and buried her
face in her arms.