LYDON’S REVOLT
Sooner than they had expected, much to the delight of Mexitli, the
well-known outline of the Keraunian hills appeared on the northern
horizon. The Asteroid halted a mile above the city of Atalanta.
“Have we your permission, lady, to alight first upon the palace
terrace?” asked Abercromby in a tone of solemn irony.
Mexitli coloured, but said: “You are pleased to be caustic, but I
suppose you have the right. When we have taken our observations, do so,
and you shall go unpunished.”
From the upper part of the Asteroid they stepped upon the balcony and
noticed the great commotion in progress below. Up the Avenue of Ascent
a troop of armed men were advancing to reinforce their comrades, who
were encamped on the ridges of the palace height. The sunlight glinted
upon a forest of spears and lances.
“They have only their primitive weapons,” said Melanitis. “They have
been deprived of the use of the tubes.”
“Let me strike the first blow, and from the sky,” said Mexitli.
She pointed her green metal in a diagonal line in the direction of the
enemy. Minola did the same. Flash after flash was sent downwards, but
no apparent effect followed.
“The range is too distant,” said Melanitis. “We must descend lower.”
Slowly the Asteroid dropped by the action of the fans. Then at the
distance of a quarter of a mile the firing was recommenced. Several
were seen to stagger and fall; others, unable through the dazzling
sunlight to locate their aerial foes, took to their heels.
“That is Lydon,” shouted Abercromby. “He is rallying them and urging
them to return.”
Minola instantly levelled the green tube, but before it could be
discharged a blinding flash broke from the building at the angle of
the terrace parapet. A pyramid of fire shot into the sky; the Asteroid
itself was rocked by the air currents, and they were nearly thrown off
their feet. A deafening roar followed, and a thick column of yellow
vapour hid everything for a few minutes.
Mexitli clung to Radcliffe with a convulsive grasp; then she wrung her
hands in agony. Minola gave way to a burst of tears and crying.
“Tell us what has happened,” said Abercromby.
“We will be with you to the last,” exclaimed Radcliffe.
“I know it,” she replied, “but it may well mean that you will perish
along with us. That building which has been wrecked is the arsenal;
it contains all the materials for the manufacture of our weapons of
defence. Many weeks must pass before we could possibly provide new
material. It is now a conflict of force against a handful--ourselves
and our friends, who will be quite defenceless, and who may be either
starved out or stormed out.”
“Send an airship to Melandria--the people are all faithful there,” said
Abercromby.
“Well thought of,” replied Melanitis.
“It can be done,” said Mexitli, “but they can bring us but scanty
supplies.”
“How many times could you fire the weapons you are carrying with you?”
“About twenty times, each of us.”
“What has been done with our own weapons and ammunition? All this could
be used. It would be better than the weapons of the rebels,” said
Radcliffe.
“You shall each of you be put in trust with it.”
“Head for the palace, Carmichael,” Abercromby called out.
In a few minutes they were on the terrace, where the palace guards were
drawn up to repel any assault. But none such had been attempted. The
enemy had been satisfied with their master-stroke, and fully believed
that the day was won.
Presently Carysfort and Jackson came forth with pale but resolute faces.
“The King is in his cabinet; he is on his knees praying, sir,” said
Tom. “I told him to do it by signs, and then I took off my jacket
and my waistcoat to let him feel easy that I was ready for the other
business.”
“This palace shall be your abode, Mayana, if we only triumph,” said
Mexitli, embracing her. “Do not despair. Our brave friends are going to
help us.”
“Suppose we go straight for the rascals just when they think we are
hiding,” said Tom. “Rush ’em all at once; that’s my ticket. Old Lydon
is below. I peeped over and saw his ugly old head. He is jabbering
away, either to the sun or else to his men, only a few hundred yards
off. Just say the word, Professor, and I’ll give him one in the nose,
and that will end all the trouble.”
Melanitis, half laughing, turned to Radcliffe.
“Go to the room above the Hall of Perfect Justice. Minola will direct
you. There are your weapons; they are all safely deposited.”
“Hold steady, Tom,” cried Carmichael. “Do you think you can run at all
those savages unarmed and alone? Wait, and don’t be a fool; we can’t
let you throw yourself away like that.”
Tom swore, but obeyed.
Meantime a sharp conflict was going on in the Avenue. Missiles were
hurled from the house-tops, chiefly by the women and children, upon
the enemy below, and many were killed or disabled. Parmenton and his
fellows set fire to one of the houses, and it was soon a heap of
smoking ruins. The inmates sallied out, and, aided by their friends and
kinsmen, pressed severely upon the rear of the attacking force. The
arms taken from the Asteroid were quickly in the hands of the royal
party, who needed very little teaching how to use them with deadly
effect. The sharp cracking reports echoed around, and, with every one,
some enemy was laid low. Then King Malchon came forth.
“My daughters, I will seek to imitate the nobleness of Keraunion. I
will lead the sallying party myself.”
“Do not think of it,” said Melanitis, seeking to draw him back. “It is
the King’s duty to direct others to fight.” But Malchon would not be
dissuaded. He set his foot on the rocky steps. “My guards, follow me;
let us deliver our city from these misguided traitors. God is with us;
it is for Him we are fighting, not for our own glory only. Forward!”
Mexitli called to Mayana and her sister to stand behind the parapet and
cover their friends by an incessant discharge. At first this was easy
enough, and many a foe was laid in the dust; but, as the two parties
joined in actual conflict, they scarcely dared to keep it up for fear
of hitting the King and his guards.
Abercromby, Carysfort, and Radcliffe were soon in the fight, but Tom
was the most reckless of the whole party. He had often heard Abercromby
tell the story of Admiral Napier saying to the sailors on the eve
of starting for the Baltic: “Lads, sharpen your cutlasses and make
ready.” So he kept on shouting this and other watchwords, interlarding
them with less classical language. He ran full-tilt at the line of
spears, wrenched one out of the hand of its holder, and ran him
through the body with it. Cleito was by his side in a moment, and the
guards forced their way by sheer physical strength, and beat back the
advancing line.
Radcliffe was in the most imminent danger. Lydon saw him and marked
him out for vengeance. He made unlimited promises to any who would
bring him dead or alive. He was seized by Mauro Katakalon, and though
he struck out with all his might, he felt his strength giving way. He
was in full view of Mexitli, who was holding one of the Professor’s
pistols. In an agony of supplication Melanitis besought her to fire.
Mexitli’s hand trembled as she did so; the bullet struck the gilded
armour of Mauro and penetrated his shoulder. More furious than ever,
the burly giant seized the waist of Radcliffe and dragged him along
the ground. Some one slipped a revolver into the hand of Melanitis.
She leaned over the parapet, there was a sharp report, Mauro Katakalon
relaxed his hold; he was killed instantly. A cheer went up, it put new
life into the hearts of the defenders.
Radcliffe, no sooner free, ran to the help of Tom, who was sore
pressed, for he was in the grasp of three or four assailants. One of
these was Lydon himself; he saw the day was lost, for by this time the
population from the upper part of the city had issued forth against
him. Malchon had scattered the foes in front, and all that remained was
to overpower the retinue in immediate attendance upon the high priest.
Abercromby and Carysfort had performed prodigies, and were beside the
King warding off blows on all hands.
Lydon, by a last effort, had led a furious charge upon the division
of the guards in which Cleito and Radcliffe were posted. They were
in full view of their friends on the terrace, who encouraged them by
voice and gesture. The ammunition, however, was giving out, Mayana and
Minya having been too prodigal in their use of it, though they stoutly
declared that every shot had told.
Lydon dashed his way to where the King was posted and hurled a lance at
his head. The weapon was struck aside by Tom in full flight, but his
own spear was splintered in doing so. In a moment he and his foes were
struggling together upon the ground. Radcliffe, not able to intervene,
shouted to Arniphon, Cleito’s colleague, who came running up with a
dozen guards. But the King’s personal danger was so imminent that
he could spare no time for anything else, and closed in a desperate
conflict with Lydon. The priest’s attendants were dispersed like chaff,
and Lydon, after fighting like a mad dog, as Abercromby said, for
another five minutes, was at last overpowered and manacled. The fate of
their leader, along with that of Parmenton and Medon, who were captured
likewise, practically ended the conflict.
The King was deadly pale and exhausted. Abercromby and Radcliffe held
him up by each arm and assisted him to mount the steps, which were
stained with blood and cumbered by the bodies of the fallen.
“Nearly one-half of the guards are dead,” said Malchon in a tone of
deep grief.
“Your throne has been saved,” said Abercromby.
“But was I worthy of it?” said Malchon in a saddened voice.
All Atalanta was hushed that night. Few households were there that had
not to mourn their dead. There were no boisterous rejoicings over the
victory, as would have been the case on the earth, though there was an
inward satisfaction none the less deep. In the palace all was gratitude
and harmony. Every one had reason to congratulate every one else on
having done something for Atalanta.
Upon the travellers every mark of affection which gratitude could
lavish was bestowed. The original sentence was cancelled; they were all
enrolled in the highest ranks of the nobility.
“This will enable us each to marry,” said Frank to the Professor.
“There is scarce a female in Atalanta who will not be proud of you.”
“Many thanks, Abercromby, and assist me all you can to realise the
splendour of my privilege. I am just going to calculate when the earth
will reach its nearest point to Venus.”
“There are three matters pending before you start, Professor: one is to
find poor Tom, the other to assist at the trial and execution of Lydon,
the third to make Radcliffe happy.”
“We will take them in order, if we are allowed,” answered Carmichael.
That night a supper party was held in the palace. The King sat at the
head of the table, one of his daughters on either side. Mexitli was
radiant with delight, Melanitis dignified and outwardly calm. The
feeling was almost too intense for words. The flattery and ceremony,
so characteristic of Atalanta, was well-nigh absent. Tongues were at
last unloosed, when Malchon rose and said--
“Through the mercy of heaven we are delivered from the most
heart-breaking danger that has ever menaced us or our people. Soon we
shall be called upon to pass sentence upon such of the ringleaders
as are in our power. But to-night let all thoughts of vengeance be
laid aside. I would suggest that each of our friends from the sister
planet be invited to solicit from us some token of our gratitude. You,
Carmichael, who are the leader of the expedition, tell us what is your
chief desire.”
“Permission to return to our own planet and to communicate to our
people whatever knowledge we have acquired here which will be good and
useful for them.”
“I echo the same wish,” said the engineer.
A murmur of disappointment made itself audible.
“Think not that we are ungrateful,” Carysfort went on, “but know that
our sole object in coming was to enlarge the knowledge of our brothers
in Karamandra. But I would, if permission be granted us to return,
leave everything which we have brought with us in the Asteroid, except
what is absolutely necessary for our journey, behind for the use of the
King and his people.”
“I grant you the permission to return, if when the moment which our
astronomers deem the right one shall come, you still adhere to your
resolutions.”
“I request permission to preach the religion of Jesus Christ by speech
and writing in Atalanta,” said Radcliffe.
“You have been fully tested, my son,” said Malchon. “I and the
princesses have long since resolved to assist you.”
“As for me,” replied Abercromby in a rather breezy tone, “I have got to
love this world. I hated it at one time, but I like it now, so I should
be glad if you would let me stay. There is one other thing. I spoke
rudely to the Princess Mexitli in this very hall, and I beg her pardon
here and now. I was savage and forgot myself, and I really thought she
meant to kill the whole lot of us.”
“I am afraid I did, so I will hold you quite excused,” answered
Mexitli; “and I am glad indeed to hear that you mean to stay with us.”
Had a thunderbolt descended at their feet, the Professor and engineer
could not have been more astounded. They had not the remotest idea that
Abercromby was not returning with them.
“He must be stark mad,” said Carysfort to the Professor--“spend
his life in Venus indeed! Depend upon it there is some girl in the
background.”
“No there is not--I stay for Radcliffe and his wife,” replied
Abercromby quickly.
“He’s done it! I knew it would be so!” gasped Carmichael. “Radcliffe is
going to marry the lady with the letter M. after all.” These remarks
were whispered in English.
“There is one thing I much regret,” resumed Malchon, “and that is the
loss of the faithful servant of our friends. The rebels either slew him
or carried him away. He was a good man and a brave, and search must be
ordered everywhere to ascertain his fate.”
The rest of the time passed pleasantly enough with interludes of music
and song. When the guests rose it was four hours after the banquet had
begun. The poor Professor very nearly dropped asleep at the supper
table. Time was little reckoned in Atalanta. The terrestrials could
hardly tear themselves away from the hand-clasps which greeted them on
every side. Even then both Radcliffe and Abercromby had to stay yet
another hour to talk over what steps should be taken to obliterate the
traces of the revolt and to make the best use of the victory. At last
Mayana said to Cleophon--
“Unless you let these poor dears go and secure a period of sleep we
shall be responsible for killing both of them. I won’t even sing them a
song. Turn them out of the room. Do you agree to this, princess?”
“Yes,” replied Mexitli; “I am somewhat inclined to sleep myself. We
have all done a good day’s work, I think.”