Lodivarman, the King, was resting after the battle that had brought
victory to his arms. Never had he been in a happier mood; never had
the gods been so kind to him. Free from the clutches of the loathsome
disease that had gripped him for so many years and now victorious over
his ancient enemy, Lodivarman had good reason for rejoicing. Yet there
was a shadow upon his happiness, for he had lost many brave soldiers
and officers during the engagement, and not the least of these was the
new prince, Gordon King, whom he looked upon not only as his saviour,
but as his protector from disease in the future. At his orders many
men had searched the battlefield for the body of his erstwhile enemy,
whom he now considered his most cherished captain; but no trace of it
had been found, nor of his elephant nor his mahout; and it was the
consensus of opinion that the beast, frenzied by wounds and terrified
by the din of conflict, had bolted into the forest and that both men
had been killed as the elephant plunged beneath the branches of great
trees. A hundred warriors still were searching through the jungle, but
no word had come from them. There could be but slight hope that the new
prince lived.
While Lodivarman lay upon his royal couch, grieving perhaps more for
himself than for Gordon King, a palace functionary was announced.
"Admit him," said Lodivarman.
The courtier entered the apartment and dropped to one knee. "What word
bring you?" demanded the King.
"The prince, Gordon King, seeks audience with Lodivarman," announced
the official.
"What?" demanded Lodivarman, raising himself to a sitting position upon
the edge of his couch. "He lives? He has returned?"
"He is alive and unhurt, Your Majesty," replied the man.
"Fetch him at once," commanded Lodivarman, and a moment later Gordon
King was ushered into his presence.
"The gods have been kind indeed," said Lodivarman. "We thought that you
had fallen in battle."
"No," replied King. "I pursued the enemy too far into the jungle, but
in doing so I discovered something that means more to me than my life,
Lodivarman, and I have come to you to enlist your aid."
"You have but to ask and it shall be granted," replied the King.
"The prince, Bharata Rahon, of Pnom Dhek, assassinated Beng Kher and is
now hastening back to Pnom Dhek to force the Princess, Fou-tan, to wed
him; and I have hastened to you to ask for men and elephants wherewith
I may pursue Bharata Rahon and save Fou-tan from his treachery."
Perhaps this was a bitter pill for Lodivarman to swallow, for no man,
not even a king, may easily forget humiliation--perhaps a king least of
all--and he did not like to be reminded that Fou-tan had spurned him
and that this man had taken her from him. But more powerful than his
chagrin was his sincere gratitude to Gordon King, and so it is only
fair to record that he did not hesitate an instant when he had heard
the American's request.
"You shall have everything that you require--warriors, elephants,
everything. You have heard?" he demanded, turning to an official
standing near him.
The man nodded. "It is the King's command, then," continued Lodivarman,
"that the prince be furnished at once with all he requires."
"A hundred elephants and five hundred men will answer my purpose," said
King, "the swiftest elephants and the bravest warriors."
"You shall have them," said Lodivarman.
"I thank Your Majesty," said King. "And now permit me to depart, for if
I am to be successful there is no time to lose."
"Go," said Lodivarman, "and may the gods accompany you."
Within the hour a hundred elephants and five hundred warriors swung
through the north gate of Lodidhapura along the broad avenue beyond and
into the jungle.
Far to the north, hastening through the forest to Pnom Dhek, moved Beng
Kher's defeated army; and in the van was the Prince, Bharata Rahon,
gloating in anticipation over the fruits of his villainy. Already was
he demanding and receiving the rights and prerogatives of royalty, for
he had spread the word that Beng Kher had been killed in battle and
that he was hastening to Pnom Dhek to wed the Princess Fou-tan.
Early in the forenoon of the second day following the battle, Fou-tan,
from her palace window, saw the column of returning elephants and
warriors emerge from the forest. That the trumpets and the drums were
mute told her that defeat had fallen upon the forces of the King, her
father, and there were tears in her eyes as she turned away from the
window and threw herself upon her couch.
Perhaps an hour later one of her little ladies-in-waiting came to her.
"The Prince, Bharata Rahon, awaits you in the audience chamber, my
Princess," she said.
"Has not my father, the King, sent for me?" demanded Fou-tan.
"The Prince brings word from your father," replied the girl, and there
was that in her tone more than in her words that sent a qualm of
apprehension through the heart of the little Princess.
She arose quickly. "Send word to Bharata Rahon, the Prince, that the
Princess comes," she said. Quickly her slaves attended to her toilet,
removing the traces that the tears had left and replacing the loosened
strands of her hair.
In the corridor outside of her apartment awaited the functionaries that
would accompany her to the audience chamber and Indra Sen in command
of a detachment of the warriors of her guard, for the little Princess
Fou-tan moved only with pomp and ceremony.
Through her own private entrance she came into the audience chamber,
where she saw congregated the high officers of Pnom Dhek, the priests
of the temple, and the captains in their burnished cuirasses and
helmets; and as she came they knelt until she had reached the foot of
the empty throne, where Bharata Rahon stood to receive her.
"Where is the King, my father?" she asked in a frightened voice.
"Beloved Princess," replied Bharata Rahon, "I bring you sad news."
"The King is dead!" cried Fou-tan.
Bharata Rahon inclined his head in assent. "He fell in battle bravely,"
he said, "but before he died he entrusted to me his last command to
you."
"Speak," said the girl.
"It is believed that Lodivarman will follow up his victory and attack
Pnom Dhek, and in addition to this we are threatened by enemies within
our own walls--conditions which require a king upon the throne; and so
it was your father's dying command that you wed at once, that Pnom Dhek
may be ruled and guided by a man through the dangers which confront
her."
"And the man that I am to marry is you, of course," said Fou-tan coldly.
"Who other could it be, my Princess?" asked Bharata Rahon.
"This is a matter which I do not care to discuss in public audience,"
said Fou-tan. "After a suitable period of mourning for my father, the
King, we may perhaps speak of the matter again."
Bharata Rahon quelled the anger that arose in his heart and spoke in
soft tones. "I can well appreciate the feelings of Your Majesty at this
time," he said, "but the matter is urgent. Please dismiss everyone and
listen to me in patience for a moment."
"Send them away then," said Fou-tan wearily, and when the audience
chamber had been cleared, she nodded to Bharata Rahon. "Speak," she
said, "but please be brief."
"Fou-tan," said the Prince, "I would that you would wed me willingly,
but the time now has passed for all childishness. We must be wed
to-night. It is imperative. I can be King without you, for I have the
men and the power. But there are others who would rally around you, and
Pnom Dhek would be so weakened by civil war that it would fall an easy
prey to Lodivarman. To-night in this hall the high priest shall wed us,
if it is necessary to drag you here by force."
"It will be by force then," said Fou-tan, and, rising, she called to
her guard that stood waiting just beyond the doorway.
"By force then," snapped Bharata Rahon, "and you will see now how
easily it may be done." As he spoke he pointed to the guardsmen
entering the audience chamber to escort Fou-tan to her quarters.
"These are not my men," she cried. "Where is Indra Sen? Where are the
warriors of my guard?"
"They have been dismissed, Fou-tan," replied Bharata Rahon. "The future
King of Pnom Dhek will guard his Queen with his own men."
The Princess Fou-tan made no reply as, surrounded by the soldiers of
Bharata Rahon, she left the audience chamber and returned to her own
apartment, where a new surprise and indignity awaited her. Her slaves
and even her ladies-in-waiting had been replaced by women from the
palace of Bharata Rahon.
Her case seemed hopeless. Even the high priest, to whom in her
extremity she might have turned for succour, would be deaf to her
appeal, for he was bound by ties of blood to the house of Bharata Rahon
and would be the willing and eager tool of his kinsman.
"There is only one," she murmured to herself, "and he is far away.
Perhaps, even, he is dead. Would that I, too, were dead." And then she
recalled what Bharata Rahon had said of the great danger that menaced
Pnom Dhek, and her breast was torn by conflicting fears, which were
lighted by no faintest ray of hope or happiness.
All during the long hours that followed, Fou-tan sought for some plan
of escape from her predicament; but at every turn she was thwarted, for
when she sought to send a message to Indra Sen, summoning him to her,
and to other officials of the palace and the state whom she knew to be
friendly to her, she found that she was virtually a prisoner and that
no message could be delivered by her except through Bharata Rahon, nor
could she leave her apartment without his permission.
She might have melted into tears in her grief and anger, but the
Princess of Pnom Dhek was made of sterner stuff. Through the long
hours she sat in silence while slaves prepared her for the nuptial
ceremony; and when at last the hour arrived, it was no little weeping
queen that was escorted through the corridors of the palace toward the
great audience chamber where the ceremony was to be performed, but a
resentful, angry little queen with steel in her heart and another bit
of shining, sharpened steel hidden in the folds of her wedding-gown;
and on her lips was a whispered plea to Siva, the Destroyer, to give
her strength to plunge the slim blade into the heart of Bharata Rahon
or into her own before morning dawned again.
Through the dark forest from the south moved a hundred elephants, their
howdahs filled with grim, half-savage warriors. At their head rode
Gordon King chafing at the slow pace which the darkness and the dangers
of the jungle imposed upon them.
Riding the howdah with King was an officer who knew well the country
around Pnom Dhek and he it was who directed the mahout through the
night. Presently he caused the elephant to be halted.
"We are nearing Pnom Dhek now," he said, "and are very close to the
point upon the trail which you described to me."
"Bring the torch then and come with me," said King, and together the
two men descended to the ground where the officer lighted the flare and
handed it to King.
Moving slowly along the trail, the American carefully examined the
trees at his left, and within a hundred yards of the point at which
they had left the column he halted.
"Here it is," he said. "Go and fetch the warriors, dismounted. Direct
the mahouts to hold the elephants here until we return or until they
receive further orders from me. Make haste. I shall await you here."
In the great assembly hall of the palace of Beng Kher were gathered
the nobles of Pnom Dhek. The captains and the priests were there in
glittering armour and gorgeous vestments, their women resplendent in
silks and scintillating gems. Upon a raised dais the Prince Bharata
Rahon and the Princess Fou-tan were seated upon thrones. The high
priest of Siva stood between them, while massed in a half-circle behind
them stood the nobles of the house of Bharata Rahon and the glittering
warriors, who were their retainers. Among these was none of Fou-tan's
allies. Neither Indra Sen nor any other officer or man of her personal
guard was in the audience chamber, nor had she seen or heard aught of
these since she had been conducted to the audience chamber in the
morning. She wondered what fate had befallen them, and her heart was
filled with fear for their safety, realising as well she might the
extremes to which Bharata Rahon might go in his ruthless greed for
power.
Before the dais the apsarases were dancing to drum and xylophone,
cymbal and flute. The little dancers, nude above the waist, stepped
and postured through the long ritual of the sacred dance; but Fou-tan,
though her eyes stared down upon them, did not see them. All that she
saw was the figure of a warrior in battered brass--a warrior with
bronzed skin and clear eyes, who had held her in his arms and spoken
words of love into her ear. Where was he? He had told Indra Sen that he
would never leave the jungle, that always he would be near; and Indra
Sen had repeated his words to Fou-tan--words that she had cherished in
her heart above all the jewels of memory. How close he seemed to-night!
Never since he had departed had Fou-tan so felt his presence hovering
near, nor ever had she so needed him. With a quick, short sigh that was
half a gasp she shook herself into a realisation of the futility of her
dreams. Now she saw the apsarases. Their dance was drawing to a close.
When it was over the high priest and his acolytes would initiate the
ceremony that would make Fou-tan the wife of Bharata Rahon and give
Pnom Dhek a new king.
As the girl shuddered at the thought and her fingers closed upon the
hilt of the dagger beneath her gorgeous robe, a man stumbled through
the darkness of the night toward the outer walls of Pnom Dhek; and
behind him, silent as spectres from another world, came five hundred
brass-bound men-at-arms.
No light guided them now, for they were approaching the guarded walls
of the city; but so indelibly fixed in the memory of Gordon King was
this way which he had traversed but once before that he needed no
light. Into the mouth of a shallow ravine he led his warriors; and
toward its head, where the wall of Pnom Dhek crossed it, he found a
little doorway, well hidden by shrubbery and vines. So well hidden
was this secret passage, planned by some long-dead king, that no bar
secured the door that closed its entrance--a precaution made necessary,
doubtless to satisfy the requirements of a king who might find it
necessary to enter as well as to leave his city in haste and secrecy.
But whatever the reason it was a godsend this night to Gordon King
as he led his spearmen and his archers beneath the city of Pnom Dhek
toward the palace of Beng Kher.
Once safely within the corridor, they lighted their torches; and in
the flickering, smoky flame the column moved noiselessly toward its
destination. They had gone a considerable distance passing the openings
to other corridors and to dark chambers that flanked their line of
march, when Gordon King was confronted by the disheartening realisation
that he had lost his way. He knew that when Indra Sen and Hamar had led
him from the palace they had not passed through any corridor resembling
that in which he now found himself. For the moment his heart sank, and
his high hopes waned.
To be lost in this labyrinthine maze beneath the palace and the city
was not only discouraging but might well prove fatal to his plan and,
perhaps, to the safety and the lives of his command. He felt that he
must keep the truth from his followers as long as possible, lest the
effect upon their morale might prove disastrous; and so he moved boldly
on, trusting that chance would guide him to a stairway leading to the
level of the ground above.
His mind was harassed by unhappy apprehensions concerning Fou-tan. He
was obsessed by the conviction that she was in dire and imminent peril,
and the thought left him frantic because of his helplessness.
Such was his state of mind when, as he was passing along a corridor
flanked on either side by dark and gloomy doorways, he saw that the
passageway he was following ended at a transverse corridor. Which way
should he turn? He knew that he could not hesitate, and at that moment
he heard a voice calling his name from the interior of a dark cell
beyond one of the gloomy doorways.
King halted as did the men near him, startled and apprehensive, their
weapons ready. King stepped toward the doorway from which the voice had
come.
"Who speaks?" he demanded.
"It is I--Indra Sen," replied the voice, and with a sigh of relief that
was almost a gasp King stepped quickly to the low doorway.
The light of his torch illuminated a narrow cell, upon the floor of
which squatted Indra Sen, chained to the wall.
"May the gods be thanked that you have come, Gordon King," cried the
young Khmer officer; "and may they grant that you are not too late to
prevent a tragedy."
"What do you mean?" demanded King.
"Fou-tan is to be forced to wed Bharata Rahon to-night," replied Indra
Sen. "Perhaps the ceremony already has been performed. All those whose
duty it is to defend Fou-tan have been chained in the dungeon here."
"Where is the ceremony to be performed?" demanded King.
"In the great audience chamber," replied Indra Sen.
"Can you lead me there by the shortest route?"
"Take off my fetters and those of my men and I will not only lead you,
but we will strike with you in the service of our Princess."
"Good!" exclaimed Gordon King. "Where are your men?"
"Along both sides of this corridor."
To release them all was the work of but a few moments, for willing
hands and strong struck off the fetters; and then, directed by Indra
Sen, the party moved quickly on to its work. The warriors of Fou-tan's
guard had no weapons other than their bare hands and the hatred that
was in their hearts, but once within the audience chamber they knew
that they would find weapons upon the bodies of their antagonists.
The high priest of Siva stepped forward and, turning, faced Bharata
Rahon and Fou-tan. "Arise," he said, "and kneel."
Bharata Rahon stepped from his throne half-turning to await Fou-tan,
but the girl sat rigid on her carved chair.
"Come," whispered Bharata Rahon.
"I cannot," said Fou-tan, addressing the high priest.
"You must, my Princess," urged the priest.
"I loathe him. I cannot mate with him."
Bharata Rahon stepped quickly toward her. His lips were smiling for
the benefit of those who watched from below the dais; but in his heart
was rage, and cruel was the grip that he laid upon the gentle wrist of
Fou-tan.
"Come," he hissed, "or by the gods you shall be slain, and I shall rule
alone."
"Then slay me," said Fou-tan. But he dragged her to her feet; and those
below saw his smiling face and thought that he was merely assisting the
little Princess, who had been momentarily overcome by the excitement of
the occasion.
And then a great hanging parted at the rear of the dais behind the
throne, and a warrior stepped out behind the semi-circle of those that
half-surrounded Bharata Rahon and his unwilling bride. Perhaps some in
the audience saw the tall warrior; perhaps at the instant they were
moved to surprise, but before they could give an alarm, or before they
could realise that an alarm was necessary, he had shouldered his way
roughly through the cordon of warriors standing between him and the
three principals at the front of the dais, and behind him the doorway
through which he had come spewed a torrent of hostile warriors.
Cries of alarm arose simultaneously from the audience and from the
warriors of Bharata Rahon who stood upon the dais, and above all in
sudden fury burst the war-cry of Lodidhapura.
Simultaneously Bharata Rahon and Fou-tan wheeled about and instantly
recognised Gordon King, but with what opposite emotions!
With a curse Bharata Rahon drew his sword. A dozen spearmen leaped
toward the rash intruder only to be hurled back by the warriors of
Lodidhapura and the unarmed soldiers of Fou-tan's guard, led by Indra
Sen.
"Dog of a slave!" cried Bharata Rahon, as the two men stood face to
face, and at the same time he swung a heavy blow at King's helmet--a
blow that King parried and returned so swiftly that the Khmer prince
had no defence ready.
It was a fearful blow that Gordon King struck, for love of a princess
and to avenge a king. Down through the golden helmet of the false
prince his blade clove into the brain of Bharata Rahon; and as the body
lunged forward upon the dais, King swung around to face whatever other
antagonist might menace him. But he found himself entirely surrounded
by his own warriors, and a quick glance about the audience chamber
showed him that his orders had been followed to the letter. So quickly
had they moved that at every entrance now stood a company of his
brass-bound soldiers.
There had been little resistance, for so sudden had been the attack and
so overwhelming the surprise of the men of Pnom Dhek that those in the
audience chamber had been completely surrounded by a superior force
before many of them had realised what was happening.
Indra Sen and his warriors had succeeded in wresting weapons from the
men of Bharata Rahon, and with them King now dominated the situation,
at least in the audience chamber; though in the city without were
thousands of warriors who might easily overcome them. But this King had
foreseen and had no intention of permitting.
Turning toward the surprised men and women in the audience chamber,
he raised his hand. "Silence!" he cried. "Let no man raise a weapon
against us, and none shall be harmed. I came here not to attack Pnom
Dhek but to avenge her King. Beng Kher did not fall in battle; he was
stabbed by Bharata Rahon. He is not dead. Beng Kher is still King of
Pnom Dhek."
A cheer arose from Indra Sen and his warriors, in which joined many in
the audience chamber, for with Bharata Rahon dead they no longer feared
him and quickly returned their allegiance to their King.
Fou-tan came close to the tall warrior standing there beside the body
of Bharata Rahon and facing the officers and the dignitaries of the
court of Beng Kher. She touched him gently. "My Gordon King!" she
whispered. "I knew that you were near. I knew that you would come. But
tell me again that my father is not dead and that he is safe."
"He is wounded, Fou-tan; but I have left him with honest people who
will nurse him, the same who nursed me when I was lost and ill in the
jungle. He sent me here to save you from Bharata Rahon, though I would
have come without the sending. Here is the priest, Fou-tan, and you are
in your wedding-gown. Is it in your heart to deny me again?"
"What would my father say?" she murmured, hesitatingly, and then
suddenly she raised her head proudly. "He is not here, and I am Queen!"
she exclaimed. "I care not what any man may say. If you will have me,
Gordon King, I am yours!"
King turned toward the audience. "The scene is set for a wedding," he
said in clear tones. "The priest is here; the bride is ready. Let the
ceremony proceed."
"But the groom is dead!" cried one of Bharata Rahon's lieutenants.
"I am the groom," said King.
"Never!" cried another voice. "You are naught but a Lodidhapurian
slave."
"He is neither slave nor Lodidhapurian," said Fou-tan. "He is the man
of my choice, and to-night I am Queen."
"Never! Never!" shouted many voices.
"Listen!" exclaimed the American. "It is not within your power to
dictate, for to-night the Princess Fou-tan is Queen; and I am your
conqueror."
"You are already surrounded by the soldiers of Beng Kher," said the
partisan of Bharata Rahon who had before spoken. "Several escaped the
audience chamber when your men entered, and already they have taken
word to the warriors in the barracks. Presently they will come and you
and your warriors will be destroyed."
"Perhaps," assented King; "but with us, then, shall die every man in
this room, for I hold you as hostages to ensure our safety. If you are
wise you will send a messenger at once to order your warriors to return
to their barracks." And then to his own warriors he cried: "If a single
warrior of Pnom Dhek enters this apartment without my authority, you
will fall upon those here and slay them to a man, sparing only the
women. And if my word is not sufficient I bring you the authority of
your own King," and with that he displayed the King's ring, where all
might see it.
Beaten at every turn, the followers of Bharata Rahon were forced to
accept the inevitable, while those who had hated him were secretly
delighted now that they were assured that both the Princess and the
King had vouched for this strange warrior. Then in the great audience
chamber of the Khmer King, Beng Kher, Fou-tan the Princess, dancing
girl of the Leper King, was joined to the man she loved.