THE PALACE OF MU TEL
As the calot entered the niche I experienced, I believe, all of the
reactions of the cornered rat, and I certainly know that I set myself to
fight in that proverbial manner. The beast was almost upon me and I was
metaphorically kicking myself for not having remained in the open where
there were many tall trees when the support at my back suddenly gave
way, a hand reached out of the darkness behind me and seized my harness
and I was drawn swiftly into inky blackness. A door slammed and the
silhouette of the calot against the moonlit entrance to the niche was
blotted out.
A gruff voice spoke in my ear. “Come with me!” it said. A hand found
mine and thus I was led along through the darkness of what I soon
discovered was a narrow corridor from the constantly recurring
collisions I had first with one side of it and then with the other.
Ascending gradually, the corridor turned abruptly at right angles and I
saw beyond my guide a dim luminosity that gradually increased until
another turn brought us to the threshold of a brilliantly lighted
chamber—a magnificent apartment, the gorgeous furnishings and
decorations of which beggar the meagre descriptive powers of my native
tongue. Gold, ivory, precious stones, marvelous woods, resplendent
fabrics, gorgeous furs and startling architecture combined to impress
upon my earthly vision such a picture as I had never even dreamed of
dreaming; and in the center of this room, surrounded by a little group
of Martians, were my three companions.
My guide conducted me towards the party, the members of which had turned
towards us as we entered the chamber, and stopped before a tall
Barsoomian, resplendent in jewel encrusted harness.
“Prince,” he said, “I was scarce a tal too soon. In fact, as I opened
the door to step out into the garden in search of him, as you directed,
there he was upon the opposite side with one of the calots of the garden
almost upon him.”
“Good!” exclaimed he who had been addressed as prince, and then he
turned to Gor Hajus. “This is he, my friend, of whom you told me?”
“This is Vad Varo, who claims to be from the planet Jasoom,” replied Gor
Hajus; “and this, Vad Varo, is Mu Tel, Prince of the House of Kan.”
I bowed and the prince advanced and placed his right hand upon my left
shoulder in true Barsoomian acknowledgment of an introduction; when I
had done similarly, the ceremony was over. There was no silly
pleased-to-meet-you, how-do-you-do? or it’s-a-pleasure-I-assure-you.
At Mu Tel’s request I narrated briefly what had befallen me between the
time I had become separated from my companions and the moment that one
of his officers had snatched me from impending disaster. Mu Tel gave
instructions that all traces of the dead patrol be removed before dawn
lest their discovery bring upon him the further suspicion of his uncle,
Vobis Kan, Jeddak of Toonol, whom it seemed had long been jealous of his
nephew’s growing popularity and fearful that he harbored aspirations for
the throne.
It was later in the evening, during one of those elaborate meals for
which the princes of Barsoom are justly famous, when mellowed slightly
by the rare vintages with which he delighted his guests, that Mu Tel
discoursed with less restraint upon his imperial uncle.
“The nobles have long been tired of Vobis Kan,” he said, “and the people
are tiring of him—he is a conscienceless tyrant—but he is our
hereditary ruler, and so they hesitate to change. We are a practical
people, little influenced by sentiment; yet there is enough to keep the
masses loyal to their Jeddak even after he has ceased to deserve their
loyalty, while the fear of the wrath of the masses keeps the nobles
loyal. There is also the natural suspicion that I, the next in line for
succession, would make them no less tyrannical a Jeddak than has Vobis
Kan, while, having youth, I might be much more active in cruel and
nefarious practices.
“For myself, I would not hesitate to destroy my uncle and seize his
throne were I sure of the support of the army, for with the warriors of
Vobis Kan at my back I might defy the balance of Toonol. It is because
of this that I long since offered my friendship to Gor Hajus; not that
he might slay my uncle, but that when I had slain him in fair fight Gor
Hajus might win to me the loyalty of the Jeddak’s warriors, for great is
the popularity of Gor Hajus among the soldiers, who ever look up to such
a great fighter with reverence and devotion. I have offered Gor Hajus a
high place in the affairs of Toonol should he cast his lot with me; but
he tells me that he has first to fulfil his obligations to you, Vad
Varo, and for the furtherance of your adventure he has asked me to give
you what assistance I may. This I offer gladly, from purely practical
motives, since your early success will hasten mine. Therefore I propose
to place at your disposal a staunch flier that will carry you and your
companions to Phundahl.”
This offer I naturally accepted, after which we fell to discussing plans
for our departure which we finally decided to attempt early the
following night, at a time when neither of the moons would be in the
heavens. After a brief discussion of equipment we were, at my request,
permitted to retire since I had not slept for more than thirty-six hours
and my companions for twenty-four.
Slaves conducted us to our sleeping apartments, which were luxuriously
furnished, and arranged magnificent sleeping silks and furs for our
comfort. After they had left us Gor Hajus touched a button and the room
rose swiftly upon its metal shaft to a height of forty or fifty feet;
the wire netting automatically dropped about us, and we were safe for
the night.
The following morning, after our apartment had been lowered to its
daylight level and before I was permitted to leave it, a slave was sent
to me by Mu Tel with instructions to stain my entire body the beautiful
copper-red of my Barsoomian friends; furnishing me with a disguise which
I well knew to be highly essential to the success of my venture, since
my white skin would have drawn unpleasant notice upon me in any city of
Barsoom. Another slave brought harness and weapons for Gor Hajus, Dar
Tarus and myself, and a collar and chain for Hovan Du, the ape-man. Our
harness, while of heavy material, and splendid workmanship, was quite
plain, being free of all insignia either of rank or service—such
harness as is customarily worn by the Barsoomian panthan, or soldier of
fortune, at such times as he is not definitely in the service of any
nation or individual. These panthans are virtually men without a
country, being roving mercenaries ready to sell their swords to the
highest bidder. Although they have no organization they are ruled by a
severe code of ethics and while in the employ of a master are, almost
without exception, loyal to him. They are generally supposed to be men
who have flown from the wrath of their own Jeddaks or the justice of
their own courts, but there is among them a sprinkling of adventurous
souls who have adopted their calling because of the thrills and
excitement it offers. While they are well paid, they are also great
gamblers and notorious spenders, with the result that they are almost
always without funds and often reduced to strange expedients for the
gaining of their livelihood between engagements; a fact which gave great
plausibility to our possession of a trained ape, which upon Mars would
appear no more remarkable than would to us the possession of a monkey or
parrot by an old salt just returned, from a long cruise, to one of our
Earthly ports.
This day that I stayed in the palace of Mu Tel I spent much in the
company of the prince, who found pleasure in questioning me concerning
the customs, the politics, the civilization and the geography of Earth,
with much of which, I was surprised to note, he seemed quite familiar; a
fact which he explained was due to the marvelous development of
Barsoomian astronomical instruments, wireless photography and wireless
telephony; the last of which has been brought to such a state of
perfection that many Barsoomian savants have succeeded in learning
several Earthly languages, notably Urdu, English and Russian, and, a
few, Chinese also. These have doubtless been the first languages to
attract their attention because of the fact that they are spoken by
great numbers of people over large areas of the world.
Mu Tel took me to a small auditorium in his palace that reminded me
somewhat of private projection rooms on Earth. It had, I should say, a
capacity of some two hundred persons and was built like a large camera
obscura; the audience sitting within the instrument, their backs towards
the lens and in front of them, filling one entire end of the room, a
large ground glass upon which is thrown the image to be observed.
Mu Tel seated himself at a table upon which was a chart of the heavens.
Just above the chart was a movable arm carrying a pointer. This pointer
Mu Tel moved until it rested upon the planet Earth, then he switched off
the light in the room and immediately there appeared upon the ground
glass plate a view such as one might obtain from an airplane riding at
an elevation of a thousand feet. There was something strangely familiar
about the scene before me. It was of a desolate, wasted country. I saw
shattered stumps whose orderly arrangement proclaimed that here once an
orchard had blossomed and borne fruit. There were great, unsightly holes
in the earth and over and across all a tangle of barbed wire. I asked Mu
Tel how we might change the picture to another locality. He lighted a
small radio bulb between us and I saw a globe there, a globe of Earth,
and a small pointer fixed over it.
“The side of this globe now presented to you represents the face of the
Earth turned towards us,” explained Mu Tel. “You will note that the
globe is slowly revolving. Place this pointer where you will upon the
globe and that portion of Jasoom will be revealed for you.”
I moved the pointer very slowly and the picture changed. A ruined
village came into view. I saw some people moving among its ruins. They
were not soldiers. A little further on I came upon trenches and
dug-outs—there were no soldiers here, either. I moved the pointer
rapidly north and south along a vast line of trenches. Here and there in
villages there were soldiers, but they were all French soldiers and
never were they in the trenches. There were no German soldiers and no
fighting. The war was over, then! I moved the pointer to the Rhine and
across. There were soldiers in Germany—French soldiers, English
soldiers, American soldiers. We had won the war! I was glad, but it
seemed very far away and quite unreal—as though no such world existed
and no such peoples had ever fought—it was as though I were recalling
through its illustrations a novel that I had read a long time since.
“You seem much interested in that war torn country,” remarked Mu Tel.
“Yes,” I explained, “I fought in that war. Perhaps I was killed. I do
not know.”
“And you won?” he asked.
“Yes, my people won,” I replied. “We fought for a great principle and
for the peace and happiness of a world. I hope that we did not fight in
vain.”
“If you mean that you hope that your principle will triumph because you
fought and won, or that peace will come, your hopes are futile. War
never brought peace—it but brings more and greater wars. War is
Nature’s natural state—it is folly to combat it. Peace should be
considered only as a time for preparation for the principal business of
man’s existence. Were it not for constant warring of one form of life
upon another, and even upon itself, the planets would be so overrun with
life that it would smother itself out. We found upon Barsoom that long
periods of peace brought plagues and terrible diseases that killed more
than the wars killed and in a much more hideous and painful way. There
is neither pleasure nor thrill nor reward of any sort to be gained by
dying in bed of a loathsome disease. We must all die—let us therefore
go out and die in a great and exciting game, and make room for the
millions who are to follow us. We have tried it out upon Barsoom and we
would not be without war.”
Mu Tel told me much that day about the peculiar philosophy of
Toonolians. They believe that no good deed was ever performed except for
a selfish motive; they have no god and no religion; they believe, as do
all educated Barsoomians, that man came originally from the Tree of
Life, but unlike most of their fellows they do not believe that an
omnipotent being created the Tree of Life. They hold that the only sin
is failure—success, however achieved, is meritorious; and yet,
paradoxical as it may seem, they never break their given word. Mu Tel
explained that they overcame the baneful results of this degrading
weakness—this sentimental bosh—by seldom, if ever, binding themselves
to loyalty to another, and then only for a definitely prescribed period.
As I came to know them better, and especially Gor Hajus, I began to
realize that much of their flaunted contempt of the finer sensibilities
was specious. It is true that generations of inhibition had to some
extent atrophied those characteristics of heart and soul which the
noblest among us so highly esteem; that friendship’s ties were lax and
that blood kinship awakened no high sense of responsibility or love even
between parents and children; yet Gor Hajus was essentially a man of
sentiment, though he would doubtless have run through the heart any who
had dared accuse him of it, thus perfectly proving the truth of the
other’s accusation. His pride in his reputation for integrity and
loyalty proved him a man of heart as truly as did his jealousy of his
reputation for heartlessness prove him a man of sentiment; and in all
this he was but typical of the people of Toonol. They denied deity, and
in the same breath worshiped the fetish of science that they had
permitted to obsess them quite as harmfully as do religious fanatics
accept the unreasoning rule of their imaginary gods; and so, with all
their vaunted knowledge, they were unintelligent because unbalanced.
As the day drew to a close I became the more anxious to be away. Far to
the west across desolate leagues of marsh lay Phundahl, and in Phundahl
the beauteous body of the girl I loved and that I was sworn to restore
to its rightful owner. The evening meal was over and Mu Tel himself had
conducted us to a secret hangar in one of the towers of his palace. Here
artisans had prepared a flier for us, having removed during the day all
signs of its real ownership, even to slightly altering its lines; so
that in the event of capture Mu Tel’s name might in no way be connected
with the expedition. Provisions were stored, including plenty of raw
meat for Hovan Du, and, as the farther moon sank below the horizon and
darkness fell, a panel of the tower wall, directly in front of the
flier’s nose, slid aside. Mu Tel wished us luck and the ship slipped
silently out into the night. The flier, like many of her type, was
without cockpit or cabin; a low, metal hand-rail surmounted her gunwale;
heavy rings were set substantially in her deck and to these her crew was
supposed to cling or attach themselves by means of their harness hooks
provided for this and similar purposes; a low wind shield, with a rakish
slant, afforded some protection from the wind; the motor and controls
were all exposed, as all the space below decks was taken up by the
buoyancy tanks. In this type everything is sacrificed to speed; there is
no comfort aboard. When moving at high speed each member of the crew
lies extended at full length upon the deck, each in his allotted place
to give the necessary trim, and hangs on for dear life. These Toonolian
crafts, however, are not overly fast, so I was told, being far
outstripped in speed by the fliers of such nations as Helium and Ptarth
who have for ages devoted themselves to the perfection of their navies;
but this one was quite fast enough for our purposes, to the consummation
of which it would be pitted against fliers of no higher rating, and it
was certainly fast enough for me. In comparison with the slow moving
Vosar, it seemed to shoot through the air like an arrow.
We wasted no time in strategy or stealth, but opened her wide as soon as
we were in the clear, and directed her straight towards the west and
Phundahl. Scarcely had we passed over the gardens of Mu Tel when we met
with our first adventure. We shot by a solitary figure floating in the
air and almost simultaneously there shrilled forth the warning whistle
of an air patrol. A shot whistled above us harmlessly and we were gone;
but within a few seconds I saw the rays of a searchlight shining down
from above and moving searchingly to and fro through the air.
“A patrol boat!” shouted Gor Hajus in my ear. Hovan Du growled savagely
and shook the chain upon his collar. We raced on, trusting to the big
gods and the little gods and all our ancestors that the relentless eye
of light would not find us out; but it did. Within a few seconds it fell
full upon our deck from above and in front of us and there it clung as
the patrol boat dropped rapidly towards us while it maintained a high
rate of speed upon a course otherwise identical with ours. Then, to our
consternation, the ship opened fire on us with explosive bullets. These
projectiles contain a high explosive that is detonated by light rays
when the opaque covering of the projectile is broken by impact with the
target. It is therefore not at all necessary to make a direct hit for a
shot to be effective. If the projectile strikes the ground or the deck
of a vessel or any solid substance near its target, it does considerably
more damage when fired at a group of men than if it strikes but one of
them, since it will then explode if its outer shell is broken and kill
or wound several; while if it enters the body of an individual the light
rays cannot reach it and it accomplishes no more than a non-explosive
bullet. Moonlight is not powerful enough to detonate this explosive and
so projectiles fired at night, unless touched by the powerful rays of
searchlights, detonate at sunrise the following morning, making a
battlefield a most unsafe place at that time even though the contending
forces are no longer there. Similarly they make the removal of the
unexploded projectiles from the bodies of the wounded a most ticklish
operation which may well result in the instant death of both the patient
and the surgeon.
Dar Tarus, at the controls, turned the nose of our flier upward directly
towards the patrol boat and at the same time shouted to us to
concentrate our fire upon her propellers. For myself, I could see little
but the blinding eye of the searchlight, and at that I fired with the
strange weapon to which I had received my first introduction but a few
hours since when it was presented to me by Mu Tel. To me that all
searching eye represented the greatest menace that confronted us, and
could we blind it the patrol boat would have no great advantage over us.
So I kept my rifle straight upon it, my finger on the button that
controlled the fire, and prayed for a hit.
Gor Hajus knelt at my side, his weapon spitting bullets at the patrol
boat. Dar Tarus’ hands were busy with the controls and Hovan Du squatted
in the bow and growled.
Suddenly Dar Tarus voiced an exclamation of alarm. “The controls are
hit!” he shouted. “We can’t alter our course—the ship is useless.”
Almost the same instant the searchlight was extinguished—one of my
bullets evidently having found it. We were quite close to the enemy now
and heard their shout of anger. Our own craft, out of control, was
running swiftly towards the other. It seemed that if there was not a
collision we would pass directly beneath the keel of the air patrol. I
asked Dar Tarus if our ship was beyond repair.
“We could repair it if we had time,” he replied, “but it would take
hours and while we were thus delayed the whole air patrol force of
Toonol would be upon us.”
“Then we must have another ship,” I said. Dar Tarus laughed. “You are
right, Vad Varo,” he replied, “but where shall we find it?”
I pointed to the patrol boat. “We shall not have to look far.”
Dar Tarus shrugged his shoulders. “Why not!” he exclaimed. “It would be
a glorious fight and a worthy death.”
Gor Hajus slapped me on the shoulder. “To the death, my captain!” he
cried.
Hovan Du shook his chain and roared.
The two ships were rapidly approaching one another. We had stopped
firing now for fear that we might disable the craft we hoped to use for
our escape; and for some reason the crew of the patrol ship had ceased
firing at us—I never learned why. We were moving in a line that would
bring us directly beneath the other ship. I determined to board her at
all costs. I could see her keel boarding tackle slung beneath her, ready
to be lowered to the deck of a quarry when once her grappling hooks had
seized the prey. Doubtless they were already manning the latter, and as
soon as we were beneath her the steel tentacles would reach down and
seize us as her crew swarmed down the board tackle to our deck.
I called Hovan Du and he crept back to my side where I whispered my
instructions in his ear. When I was done he nodded his head with a low
growl. I cast off the harness hook that held me to the deck, and the ape
and I moved to our bow after I had issued brief, whispered instructions
to Gor Hajus and Dar Tarus. We were now almost directly beneath the
enemy craft; I could see the grappling hooks being prepared for
lowering. Our bow ran beneath the stern of the other ship and the moment
was at hand for which I had been waiting. Now those upon the deck of the
patrol boat could not see Hovan Du or me. The boarding tackle of the
other ship swung fifteen feet above our heads; I whispered a word of
command to the ape and simultaneously we crouched and sprang for the
tackle. It may sound like a mad chance—failure meant almost certain
death—but I felt that if two of us could reach the deck of the patrol
boat while her crew was busy with the grappling gear it would be well
worth the risk.
Gor Hajus had assured me that there would not be more than six men
aboard the patrol ship; that one would be at the controls and the others
manning the grappling hooks. It would be a most propitious time to gain
a footing on the enemy’s deck.
Hovan Du and I made our leaps and Fortune smiled upon us, though the
huge ape but barely reached the tackle with one outstretched hand, while
my Earthly muscles carried me easily to my goal. Together we made our
way rapidly towards the bow of the patrol craft and without hesitation,
and as previously arranged, he clambered quickly up the starboard side
and I the port. If I were the more agile jumper Hovan Du far outclassed
me in climbing, with the result that he reached the rail and was
clambering over while my eyes were still below the level of the deck,
which was, perhaps, a fortunate thing for me since, by chance, I had
elected to gain the deck directly at a point where, unknown to me, one
of the crew of the ship was engaged with the grappling hooks. Had his
eyes not been attracted elsewhere by the shout of one of his fellows who
was first to see Hovan Du’s savage face rise above the gunwale, he could
have dispatched me with a single blow before ever I could have set foot
upon the deck.
The ape had also come up directly in front of a Toonolian warrior and
this fellow had let out a yell of surprise and sought to draw his sword,
but the ape, for all his great bulk, was too quick for him; and as my
eyes topped the rail I saw the mighty anthropoid seize the unfortunate
man by the harness, drag him to the side and hurl him to destruction far
below. Instantly we were both over the rail and squarely on deck while
the remaining members of the craft’s crew, abandoning their stations,
ran forward to overpower us. I think that the sight of the great, savage
beast must have had a demoralizing effect upon them, for they hesitated,
each seeming to be willing to accord his fellow the honour of first
engaging us; but they did come on, though slowly. This hesitation I was
delighted to see, for it accorded perfectly with the plan that I had
worked out, which depended largely upon the success which might attend
the efforts of Gor Hajus and Dar Tarus to reach the deck of the patrol
when our craft had risen sufficiently close beneath the other to permit
them to reach the boarding tackle, which we were utilizing with reverse
English, as one might say.
Gor Hajus had cautioned me to dispatch the man at the controls as
quickly as possible, since his very first act would be to injure them
the instant that there appeared any possibility that we might be
successful in our attempt to take his ship, and so I ran quickly towards
him and before he could draw I cut him down. There were now four against
us and we waited for them to advance that we might gain time for our
fellows to reach the deck.
The four moved slowly forward and were almost within striking distance
when I saw Gor Hajus’ head appear above the stern rail, quickly followed
by that of Dar Tarus.
“Look!” I cried to the enemy, “and surrender,” and I pointed astern.
One of them turned to look and what he saw brought an exclamation of
surprise to his lips. “It is Gor Hajus,” he cried, and then, to me:
“What is your purpose with us if we surrender?”
“We have no quarrel with you,” I replied. “We but wish to leave Toonol
and go our way in peace—we shall not harm you.”
He turned to his fellows while, at a sign from me, my three companions
stopped their advance and waited. For a few minutes the four warriors
conversed in low tones, then he who had first spoken addressed me.
“There are few Toonolians,” he said, “who would not be glad to serve Gor
Hajus, whom we had thought long dead, but to surrender our ship to you
would mean certain death for us when we reported our defeat at our
headquarters. On the other hand were we to continue our defence most of
us here upon the deck of this flier would be killed. If you can assure
us that your plans are not aimed at the safety of Toonol I can make a
suggestion that will afford an avenue of escape and safety for us all.”
“We only wish to leave Toonol,” I replied. “No harm can come to Toonol
because of what I seek to accomplish.”
“Good! and where do you wish to go?”
“That I may not tell you.”
“You may trust us, if you accept my proposal,” he assured me, “which is
that we convey you to your destination, after which we can return to
Toonol and report that we engaged you and that after a long running
fight, in which two of our number were killed, you eluded us in the
darkness and escaped.”
“Can we trust these men?” I asked, addressing Gor Hajus, who assured me
that we could, and thus the compact was entered into which saw us
speeding rapidly towards Phundahl aboard one of Vobis Kan’s own fliers.