APHUR ACCEPTS
Croft left the court and made his way outside into the calm beauty of
the night. Flooded by the moonlight, he stood watching the flicker of
the fire-urns on the waters of the tiny harbor, where lay the gilded
pleasure craft.
And after a time he turned back attracted by the fact that the inner
lights had died. Only for a moment, however, did he remain inside. In
the court, flooded now only by the moons, a wild and loathesome orgy
was taking place between the dancing girls and the guests, in and about
the pool. Cries, shrill laughter, sounds of splashing and fleeting
glimpses of flitting shapes told him the full story as to the end of
Kyphallos's feast. It sickened him, and once more he fled the spot to
spend the night outside.
Naia! The thought came to him. Suddenly he wanted to see her, be near
her, away from this scene of brutal carnival where license reigned
supreme. He wanted to be in the hills of Aphur, where she had her home.
And swiftly he was. There was Lakkon's palace, white under the triple
moons--and here was the window of the room where she had knelt and
prayed.
Invisible, yet seeing, he crept inside, like a wraith of the night.
Only the moon gave him light. But it showed him the woman of his soul.
She lay on the metal couch, asleep. Her fair hair shadowed her face as
he bent above her. A slender arm was thrown out to one side. Coverings
as light as silk betrayed the grace of her form. Her lips were half
parted, and as Jason bent down, she sighed.
Croft straightened and stood like a guardian spirit above her. His
soul was once more on fire at the thought of what was planned. This
was the girl who was to be offered to the lecherous young spawn of
royalty, even now disporting himself with the tawny siren from another
nation--that Kalamita, whose name, Croft knew, might best be translated
into English as Magnet. Kalamita--the magnet--a human magnet--a female
magnet to draw men to her by her shameless charms and bind them fast
past any chance of escape.
How much he wondered did Jadgor of Aphur really know of what was going
on. How fully was he informed of what was coming now to seem, to Croft,
as one side of the workings of Zollaria's plot? Surely he must know how
much to be willing to sacrifice this fair young sleeper, his sister's
child. Little by little Croft was coming to understand the workings of
Jadgor's mind--to believe him a patriot really rather than a seeker of
selfish power, such as he had fancied he might be for all his brave
words at first.
What then? Croft could not answer. Bound as he was--despite his ability
to hear and see and know, he could do nothing in himself. All night
long he raved in impotent rage, unknowing that by degrees he was
solving the problem presented to him.
At morn he went back to Anthra. He witnessed the departure of Kyphallos
in a gilded galley, with red sails and red silken cordage rowed by
twenty blue men, ten to each bank of oars.
Kalamita's barge, in which rode the Zollarian woman, her brother and
Bazd the Mazzerian chief, accompanied the Cathurian for some two hours
before it turned north and made off for Niera, as Croft gathered from
what conversation passed.
Kyphallos's craft continued south. Croft let him go. He himself went
back to Scira and the national school for his lessons of the day. The
Cathurian prince was safe for five days while he sailed and rowed to
Himyra. Meanwhile Croft was determined to learn all he could. It was
after that he first met Jasor and studied him during the few days
remaining until the first meeting between Kyphallos and Naia which he
had determined to attend. And in so studying the youth, he discovered
Jasor's full recognition of his own shortcomings, and that his
knowledge of his own backward mental powers was preying upon his mind
to produce a melancholic turn in the young man's thoughts.
At night Jasor sat in his quarters brooding, or took long solitary
walks. Even in the four days he lost flesh. Croft realized that his
introspections were sapping the young Nodhurian's strength--that he
was physically as well as mentally sick. He had drawn into himself and
no longer took part in the games in which, not only the dares of his
classmates, but his very stature, told Croft he had once excelled.
Then came the seventh day, and Croft had willed himself back to Himyra
once more, with an eye out for the galley from Anthra along the yellow
Na.
He found it a little below the city wall, and followed it as it worked
its way up the current with flashing dripping blades which rose and
glistened and fell in the brilliant light. Under a scarlet awning,
Kyphallos, curled and perfumed, lay on a burnished divan and watched
the city slip past until the galley swung into one of the quays in
front of the palace, where a chariot accompanied by a part of the
royal guard waited as the galley moored. Meanwhile vast crowds lined
the terraces along that portion of the Na and trumpets blared a
greeting to the northern guest.
The Cathurian came ashore and entered the burnished car. The detachment
of the guards fell in on either side. The procession mounted the
inclines from terrace to terrace past the gathered throngs, until
in the end it passed through the monster entrance of the palace and
brought up in the principal court.
There various nobles of the state, Lakkon among them, waited to conduct
the visiting noble to Aphur's king. Under their escort Kyphallos moved
through the corridors and across courts to where, in an audience-room
of huge proportions, Jadgor sat in state.
Here his guard of honor drew aside and left the prince standing alone
as Jadgor rose.
* * * * *
"Welcome Cathur, to such poor hospitality as is mine," said Aphur's
king.
"Hail Aphur," Kyphallos replied, bowing in the least degree. "Cathur
sends greeting through me, his son."
Jadgor descended a step of the dais on which he sat. He put out a hand.
"Accept a seat beside me, son of Cathur, whose presence gladdens the
eye," he went on.
Kyphallos advanced, clasped palms with the Aphurian king, mounted the
steps and seated himself on the gilded divan where Jadgor had sat alone.
The king of Aphur turned to two guards stationed on either side.
"Announce that Cathur is Aphur's guest."
"Cathur is the guest of Aphur!" proclaimed the soldier heralds.
This completed the ceremonial of the royal arrival and the nobles
withdrew with the exception of Lakkon, who, at a sign from Jadgor,
remained and approached the dais.
Jadgor waved away his guards. "I would speak with you on matters of
weight, O Cathur," he said when the three were alone.
"I give ear, King of Aphur," Kyphallos replied.
Like the man of purpose he was Jadgor did not waste time in airy
persiflage. "Cathur guards the western gate with Aphur, Kyphallos," he
began. "To my mind it occurs the guards are bound by a common interest.
It occurs to me to strengthen the tie."
"To what end?" A slight frown grew between the younger man's eyes. He
seemed like one taken suddenly by surprise and his words came only
after a perceptible pause.
"To the end of strengthening our nation," Jadgor shot out his reply.
"In one year Tamhys's reign is done, unless he be reelected, as you
know. With Cathur's help and that of Nodhur, which is well assured, and
support from Milidhur already promised, Aphur can win the day."
"Ah!" Suddenly Kyphallos smiled. And as swiftly his eyelids drew
together. "But what," he asked, "if Cathur should look toward Zitra as
well?"
Like a stab of light a thought pierced Croft's listening brain. Was
that it--was that the bait Zollaria held forth? Kyphallos on the throne
of Tamarizia--not for ten years, but for life--Zollaria and Tamarizia
practically one if not actually united--Cathur in Zollaria's hands and
Kyphallos a noble of a vast empire--a dual monarchy such as Palos had
never seen. The conception from the standpoint of royalty at least was
no less than magnificent.
Jadgor, too, gave his companion a piercing glance. "Could Cathur win
without Aphur?" he asked.
Kyphallos shrugged. "My words were but a question," he evaded the
answer direct. "What does Aphur propose?"
"An alliance of their houses," Jadgor said and paused.
And once more Kyphallos frowned without reply. Plainly he was giving
this matter consideration.
Jadgor resumed. "It is in our minds to offer you the fairest flower in
Aphur's garden of women to this end."
"Hai! A woman! Thou meanest marriage?" Kyphallos cried.
"Aye."
Kyphallos smiled. "And this wonderful woman--who is she?"
"The daughter of Prince Lakkon here," Jadgor declared. "Naia, the child
of my sister, more beautiful than any girl in Aphur and pure as the
Virgin Ga."
"Naia!" Kyphallos's eyes lighted. "I have heard of her, O Aphur. It
would seem you plan to make this alliance strong."
"The guard of the western gate should be strong," Jadgor said.
Kyphallos nodded. "Yet have I never seen her," he remarked in a tone
of musing, "though the fame of her beauty has reached Cathur ere this.
I have heard she has hair like spun gold and eyes as purple as the
twilight in the mountains. Is this true?"
"Cathur shall judge the truth for himself," Jadgor made response.
"Prince Lakkon craves the presence of Kyphallos at a feast tomorrow
night. The maiden shall be there."
"Good." Once more Kyphallos smiled. Women were his main interest in
life. "I have never given serious thought to marriage, yet it can do no
harm to see this fairest of Aphur's maids. Say to Prince Lakkon that
Cathur shall do himself the pleasure to accept his invitation to a
feast. As for the rest--" He shrugged. "A man, O Jadgor, should never
marry in haste. I must think upon your words."
There was something in the Cathurian's mind. Croft tried to read the
secret thought, and failed. Jadgor, too, seemed to sense some reason
beyond the one assigned for the man's hesitation, although an immediate
answer was hardly to have been expected to such a proposition as that
by which the prince was faced.
And Jadgor did not seek to press the matter further. Instead, he
turned to Lakkon with a request to escort the royal guest to the rooms
prepared against his coming, and rose from his seat.
* * * * *
Croft sought Prince Lakkon's palace without more delay.
He found it receiving the finishing touches of preparation for the
Cathurian's entertainment, and Naia, with her own maid beside her,
supervising the hangings of fresh draperies in the huge central court.
His soul quickened at sight of her and then sank as he saw the
expression of her face. It was an expression of deliberate endurance,
and he recalled how nights before she had sighed in her sleep.
Yet he hovered near her and after hours Lakkon himself arrived and came
to her side. Father and daughter sat upon one of the carved and gilded
seats with which the court had been set forth.
Naia looked into Lakkon's eyes. "What said the Cathurian to Jadgor's
proposal?" she inquired.
"He accepted our invitation for the night after this," Lakkon replied.
"He seems a cautious man. He would see you before he decides."
"He would see me!" Naia of Aphur flashed. "He would view me--learn if I
please his royal fancy--Zitu! must I submit to this?"
"Nay." Lakkon shook his head. "Cathur's prince was but gaining time to
consider all sides of the case. Jadgor's offer took him by surprise."
"Perhaps," said Naia in almost eager fashion, "he does not wish a wife."
Lakkon shook his head again. "Scythys, his father, is old. Kyphallos
must marry when he gains the throne at latest. Is everything prepared?"
"Aye--even to--the sacrifice." Naia's tone was bitter. She rose and
moved away without more words, mounting the stairs toward her rooms.
Croft's heart was bitter, too, as he left the place and returned by his
will to Scira and the apartment of Jasor of Nodhur.
Just why he went there he hardly knew--save that the sympathy he felt
for the soul-sick youth seemed to keep the boy in his mind. Yet once in
his presence he found the youth sitting before an untouched plate of
food. And after a time he hurled this to the floor and buried his head
in his hands, to break into muttered speech.
Croft listened and after a time he found the cause. Jasor's father had
sent him word to come home. The two leaves of a writing tablet--bits of
thin metal covered with hardened wax, in which characters were cut with
a metal stylus, lay unbound and spread out on the table where the food
had sat. Jasor's father had evidently become convinced that his son was
a dullard and was wasting his time in seeking to learn more than he
already knew.
Croft remained with him during the night. For a time he whimpered and
cursed. Later he destroyed the tablets as he had destroyed his food.
After that he flung himself on his couch and for hours he dozed and
waked and tossed and muttered. Croft fancied him in a fever from the
broken nature of the words he spoke. And in the morning the boy did
not rise. The woman of whom he rented his lodgings came to clean and
found him muttering and mouthing. He sprang up and drove her from the
room. She ran crying downstairs and out to the street and along it for
some distance to a house where quite evidently one of the nursing caste
lived.
Presently a woman in the uniform of her calling, a short blue-skirted
costume, embroidered with a red, heart-shaped symbol came forth and
followed her back to her house. Five minutes after her arrival she had
sent the old woman for a doctor and was herself bathing Jasor's flushed
neck and face.
The doctor came, examined the patient, left some liquid substance to
be given in interval doses and went away. Croft remained till evening.
Jasor was more quiet by then, and he left. But, physician as he was,
he felt that the young Nodhurian's days were numbered, that unless he
had the will to recover he would sink slowly and die in the end. And he
knew Jasor had not the will to get well.
His own will carried him to Himyra in a flash, and to Lakkon's palace
at once. Night had fallen when he reached it and the central court was
a blaze of light from a myriad of oil-lamps. In the main expanse of the
crystal flooring the tables were set forth, decked with flowers and
loaded with viands. Serving men and maidens of the blue Mazzerian race
were still at work in the final preparations. Of Naia or Lakkon there
was no sign.
The latter came down the stairs at one end after some time, however,
and signing to Bazka, the Mazzerian _major-domo_, took up a place near
the massive doors. There he remained until a clatter of hoofs marked
the first arriving guests.
* * * * *
They came in a stream thereafter, nobles of Aphur and their daughters
and wives; captains of the civic guard, and finally, with a blare of
trumpets from riders mounted on gnuppas, Jadgor himself and Kyphallos
in a golden coach drawn by eight gnuppas harnessed four abreast.
And still Naia had not appeared. But as the King of Aphur and the
Prince of Cathur moved down the crystal pave from the doors toward the
tables in the center of the court, she came slowly down the stairs.
Croft stared in delight. She was a thing of purple and gold. The gown
she had described that first day wrapped her supple form like a second
skin, from right shoulder to hip, and fell from there to the knees. It
was a shimmering thing embroidered in purple stones.
Halfway down the stairs she stood and inclined her head, while Jadgor
and Kyphallos paused. Then as the men advanced she began again to
descend, until near the head of the tables she sank on her left knee
and bowed before the king.
Jadgor's own hand helped her to rise. Jadgor made Kyphallos known.
Prince and princess touched hands. Lakkon led toward the feast.
At the head sat Jadgor and Kyphallos side by side. Lakkon reclined
beside the king. Naia's place was on the Prince of Cathur's left. Blue
servants in Lakkon's livery placed the other guests and began their
service at once.
For an hour the feast went on. Hidden musicians filled the air with
the sound of their harps. That snow-chilled wine, of which Lakkon
had spoken, poured from golden pitchers into goblets of silver as
serving-maids passed up and down the board to keep all well supplied.
Croft noted Kyphallos more closely than the rest. He had seen the
swift lighting of his eyes when Naia appeared on the stairs; the swift
instinctive parting of his too full lips, the twitch of his nostrils,
accompanying that first glance of the maid suggested for his wife.
Now, as he lay on the divan, he found him watching her with what seemed
a steady interest, plying her with gallant conversation, finding excuse
to frequently touch her hands, staring into her long-lashed purple
eyes. With his resentment for the Cathurian growing by swift leaps and
bounds, he realized that Kyphallos was impressed, sensed that before
this chaste beauty of his own people, he had forgotten Zollaria's
magnet for the time.
Also he thought it had been better had the wine been less nicely
chilled, for Kyphallos drank deep and his eyes began to sparkle as time
passed with new toasts proposed and drunk about the board. It came to
Croft that Cathur's prince was losing his head at a time when he had
better have kept it, as his voice became more and more loud.
Intoxication may be very well on Anthra, where it was the accepted
thing. In Himyra and the palace of Lakkon, before his proposed bride,
it might prove another thing. He was strengthened in his belief by the
questioning glance Naia cast at the northern noble from time to time--a
glance of something like surprised dismay.
The harps struck up a different measure toward the last. Golden
curtains parted under the balcony, near the stairs. A band of dancing
girls trooped in. They were things of beauty, laughing faced, their
soft hair flowing, clad in what seemed no more than garlands of
flowers twined about their slender bodies and halfway down their
limbs. Beginning to dance they advanced and as they danced they sang.
The scene became one of rhythmic beauty, delightful to the senses.
Each girl bore a parti-colored veil of gauze and waved it as she
moved. Massed inside the rectangle of the tables on the crystal floor,
they seemed to be a very dancing, nodding bed of flowers, amid which
twinkled their flying feet and gesturing arms, beating time to the
pulse of the harps.
Then it was done. The dancers were drawing back with graceful
genuflections, as applause broke forth from the guests. Lakkon tossed
a handful of silver pieces among them. Jadgor cast a double handful of
jewels into the scarf of a maid who advanced at his sign.
"Divide them among you," he said.
The girl sank to the floor, and rose.
* * * * *
"Hold!" cried Cathur's prince. His face was flushed and his eyes
shone with an unholy light. Croft saw his nostrils fairly quiver as
he watched the lissom dancer. He lifted himself and struck the table.
"Up!" he commanded thickly. "Up beauteous maid."
With a glance at Jadgor, who made no sign whatever, the dancing girl
obeyed. She stood on the table before Kyphallos.
"Unveil!" he said.
Again the woman glanced at Aphur's king. But Jadgor did not draw back
from the situation invoked by his bibulous guest. Too much hung on the
moment as Jadgor saw it to quibble over the uncloaking of a dancer.
"Unveil!" he added his command.
The girl lifted her hands. Her garlands fell away. She stood a lithely
rounded form, her feet lost in the mass of blossoms she had worn.
Kyphallos laughed. His eyes were blazing. He caught up a goblet of
wine and rose. "Hail Adita, goddess of womanly beauty," he exclaimed.
"Now, are you perfect as you stand revealed, stripped of the silly
trappings which concealed the greater charms beneath. Flowers are
things of beauty in their place, but--woman unadorned is the fairest
flower of life. Arise, my friends, and drink with me to woman as she
is, this new Adita I have found!"
They rose at Jadgor's sign, though Croft caught more than one glance of
question passing among the guests.
So much he saw and turned back to Naia who had risen, too, her face a
mask of outraged dignity and scorn.
Kyphallos lifted his goblet and set it to his lips.
Naia lifted hers and cast it from her so that its contents spilled and
flowed across the table at the dancer's feet.
"Thou beast!" her voice came in tones of sharp displeasure. "Thou
sensuous offspring of Cathur! 'Tis thus I drink your toast!"
Silence came down--a breathless pause about the tables.
Kyphallos lowered his cup and turned toward the Princess of Aphur
slowly.
And suddenly the Cathurian smiled. He replaced his goblet on the
table and sank to one knee before the haughty daughter of his host.
"By Zitu!" his voice rang out; "but you are truly royal. You are
magnificent, daughter of Aphur. Did I pick me a lesser toy, 'twas but
that I knew you for what you are--one fit to be a queen. Naia of
Aphur, wilt pledge yourself queen of Cathur's throne?"
The words were out. Croft felt his senses sink. Yet even so he saw
the whole psychology of the event. To Cathur, the maiden offered, had
seemed but an easy prize--to take at his pleasure, if at all. To Cathur
drunk the dancer had appealed. To Cathur still drunk Naia of Aphur,
offended, angered, hurling her scorn in his teeth, appeared suddenly
not a thing to be taken lightly, but a beautiful consort to be won if
taken at all.
On Jadgor's face was a satisfaction unvoiced. He rose and lifted his
hands. "My lords and ladies," he announced, "I call you to witness that
Cathur asks the hand of Aphur's princess. Let Naia choose."
Kyphallos drew himself up and folded his arms. To Croft it seemed
the man was sobered by Jadgor's words. Yet as cries of assent and
acclamation rang out through the court, he remained silent before the
tense figure of the girl.
And slowly the golden head beneath the curling plume of purple bowed.
One bared arm rose and extended its fingers toward the northern prince.
"Aphur accepts." Her words came scarcely above a whisper and were
drowned in a greeting roar of voices upraised by the waiting guests.
Cathur caught the extended hand and turned to the forward straining
faces, the watching eyes.
"A happy consummation to our feast," rang the words of Aphur's king.
"Men and women of Aphur this shall be arranged. I, Jadgor, myself shall
sponsor the formal betrothal on a day one twelfth of a cycle hence."
The thing was done. A month from tonight would see it ratified. A
sick impotency filled Croft's soul as once more cries of approbation
greeted the promise of the king. And into the midst of his despair
there flashed one ray of blinding thought. Before it he staggered, drew
back, shaken in the primal elements of his being. Yet he did not put it
aside. He held it. He marveled at it. And suddenly taking it with him,
he left the scented atmosphere of Lakkon's palace court and rose up
toward the heavens, studded with stars.
To earth! His will gathered, centered, focused by the wonder of the
thing he had conceived cast all its driving power into the demand.
Palos and all it held sank swiftly away beneath him. He opened the eyes
of the form he left on his library couch.