THE GREAT TUR
The day dragged wearily for Gor Hajus and me. We watched the various
priests who came in pairs at intervals to relieve those who had preceded
them, and we listened to their prattle, mostly idle gossip of court
scandals. At times they spoke of us and we learned that Hovan Du had
escaped with Sag Or, nor had they been located as yet, nor had Dar
Tarus. The whole court was mystified by our seemingly miraculous
disappearance. Three thousand people, the inmates and attaches of the
palace, were constantly upon the look-out for us. Every part of the
palace and the palace grounds had been searched and searched again. The
pits had been explored more thoroughly than they had been explored
within the memory of the oldest retainer, and it seemed that queer
things had been unearthed there—things of which not even Xaxa dreamed;
and the priests whispered that at least one great and powerful house
would fall because of what a dwar of the Jeddara’s Guard had discovered
in a remote precinct of the pits.
As the sun dropped below the horizon and darkness came, the interior of
the temple was illuminated by a soft white light, brilliantly but
without the glare of Earthly artificial illumination. More priests came
and many young girls, priestesses. They performed before the idols,
chanting meaningless gibberish. Gradually the chamber filled with
worshippers, nobles of the Jeddara’s court with their women and their
retainers, forming in two lines along either side of the temple before
the lesser idols, leaving a wide aisle from the great entrance to the
foot of the Great Tur and towards this aisle they all faced, waiting.
For what were they waiting? Their eyes were turned expectantly towards
the closed doors of the great entrance and Gor Hajus and I felt our eyes
held there too, fascinated by the suggestion that they were about to
open and reveal some stupendous spectacle.
And presently the doors did swing slowly open and all we saw was what
appeared to be a great roll of carpet lying upon its side across the
opening. Twenty slaves, naked but for their scant leather harness, stood
behind the huge roll; and as the doors swung fully open they rolled the
carpet inward to the very feet of the altar before the Great Tur,
covering the wide aisle from the entranceway almost to the idol with a
thick, soft rug of gold and white and blue. It was the most beautiful
thing in the temple where all else was blatant, loud and garish or
hideous, or grotesque. And then the doors closed and again we waited;
but not for long. Bugles sounded from without, the sound increasing as
they neared the entrance. Once more the doors swung in. Across the
entrance stood a double rank of gorgeously trapped nobles. Slowly they
entered the temple and behind them came a splendid chariot drawn by two
banths, the fierce Barsoomian lion, held in leash by slaves on either
side. Upon the chariot was a litter and in the litter, reclining at
ease, lay Xaxa. As she entered the temple the people commenced to chant
her praises in a monotonous sing-song. Chained to the chariot and
following on foot was a red warrior and behind him a procession composed
of fifty young men and an equal number of young girls.
Gor Hajus touched my arm. “The prisoner,” he whispered, “do you
recognize him?”
“Dar Tarus!” I exclaimed.
It was Dar Tarus—they had discovered his hiding place and arrested him,
but what of Hovan Du? Had they taken him, also? If they had it must have
been only after slaying him, for they never would have sought to capture
the fierce beast, nor would he have brooked capture. I looked for Sag
Or, but he was nowhere to be seen within the temple and this fact gave
me hope that Hovan Du might be still at liberty.
The chariot was halted before the altar and Xaxa alighted; the lock that
held Dar Tarus’ chain to the vehicle was opened and the banths were led
away by their attendants to one side of the temple behind the lesser
idols. Then Dar Tarus was dragged roughly to the altar and thrown upon
it and Xaxa, mounting the steps at its base, came close to his side and
with hands outstretched above him looked up at the Great Tur towering
above her. How beautiful she was! How richly trapped! Ah, Valla Dia!
that your sweet form should be debased to the cruel purposes of the
wicked mind that now animates you!
Xaxa’s eyes now rested upon the face of the Great Tur. “O, Tur, Father
of Barsoom,” she cried, “behold the offering we place before you,
All-seeing, All-knowing, All-powerful One, and frown no more upon us in
silence. For a hundred years you have not deigned to speak aloud to your
faithful slaves; never since Hora San, the high priest, was taken away
by you on that long-gone night of mystery have you unsealed your lips to
your people. Speak, Great Tur! Give us some sign, ere we plunge this
dagger into the heart of our offering, that our works are pleasing in
thine eyes. Tell us whither went the two who came here to-day to
assassinate your high priestess; reveal to us the fate of Sag Or. Speak,
Great Tur, ere I strike,” and she raised her slim blade above the heart
of Dar Tarus and looked straight upward into the eyes of Tur.
And then, as a bolt from the blue, I was struck by the great
inspiration. My hand sought the lever controlling the eyes of Tur and I
turned them until they completed a full circuit of the room and rested
again upon Xaxa. The effect was magical. Never before had I seen a whole
room full of people so absolutely stunned and awe-struck as were these.
As the eyes returned to Xaxa she seemed turned to stone and her copper
skin to have taken on an ashen purple hue. Her dagger remained stiffly
poised above the heart of Dar Tarus. Not for a hundred years had they
seen the eyes of the Great Tur move. Then I placed the speaking-tube to
my lips and the voice of Tur rumbled through the chamber. As from one
great throat a gasp arose from the crowded temple floor and the people
fell upon their knees and buried their faces in their hands.
“Judgment is mine!” I cried. “Strike not lest ye be struck! To Tur is
the sacrifice!”
I was silent then, attempting to plan how best to utilize the advantage
I had gained. Fearfully, one by one, the bowed heads were raised and
frightened eyes sought the face of Tur. I gave them another thrill by
letting the god’s eyes wander slowly over the upturned faces, and while
I was doing this I had another inspiration, which I imparted to Gor
Hajus in a low whisper. I could hear him chuckle as he started down the
ladder to carry my new plan into effect. Again I had recourse to the
speaking-tube.
“The sacrifice is Tur’s,” I rumbled. “Tur will strike with his own hand.
Extinguish the lights and let no one move under pain of instant death
until Tur gives the word. Prostrate yourselves and bury your eyes in
your palms, for whosoever sees shall be blinded when the spirit of Tur
walks among his people.”
Down they went again and one of the priests hurriedly extinguished the
lights, leaving the temple in total darkness; and while Gor Hajus was
engaged with his part of the performance I tried to cover any accidental
noise he might make by keeping up a running fire of celestial
revelation.
“Xaxa, the high priestess, asks what has become of the two whom she
believed came to assassinate her. I, Tur took them to myself. Vengeance
is Tur’s! And Sag Or I took, also. In the guise of a great ape I came
and took Sag Or and none knew me; though even a fool might have guessed,
for who is there ever heard a great ape speak with tongue of man unless
he was animated by the spirit of Tur?”
I guess that convinced them, it being just the sort of logic suited to
their religion, or it would have convinced them if they had not already
been convinced. I wondered what might be passing in the mind of the
doubting priest who had remarked that the gods had ears of stone.
Presently I heard a noise upon the ladder beneath me and a moment later
someone climbed upon the circular landing.
“All’s well,” whispered the voice of Gor Hajus. “Dar Tarus is with me.”
“Light the temple!” I commanded through the speaking-tube. “Rise and
look upon your altar.”
The lights flashed on and the people rose, trembling, to their feet.
Every eye was bent upon the altar and what they saw there seemed to
crush them with terror. Some of the women screamed and fainted. It all
impressed me with the belief that none of them had taken this god of
theirs with any great amount of seriousness, and now when they were
confronted with absolute proof of his miraculous powers they were swept
completely off their feet. Where, a few moments before, they had seen a
live sacrifice awaiting the knife of the high priestess they saw now
only a dust-covered human skull. I grant you that without an explanation
it might have seemed a miracle to almost anyone so quickly had Gor Hajus
run from the base of the idol with the skull of the dead high priest and
returned again leading Dar Tarus with him. I had been a bit concerned as
to what the attitude of Dar Tarus might be, who was no more conversant
with the hoax than were the Phundahlians, but Gor Hajus had whispered
“For Valla Dia” in his ear and he had understood and come quickly.
“The Great Tur,” I now announced, “is angry with his people. For a long
time they have denied him in their hearts even while they made open
worship of him. The Great Tur is angry with Xaxa. Only through Xaxa may
the people of Phundahl be saved from destruction, for the Great Tur is
angry. Go then from the temple and the palace leaving no human being
here other than Xaxa, the high priestess of Tur. Leave her here in
solitude beside the altar. Tur would speak with her alone.”
I could see Xaxa fairly shrivel in fright.
“Is the Jeddara Xaxa, High Priestess of the Great God Tur, afraid to
meet her master?” I demanded. The woman’s jaw trembled so that she could
not reply. “Obey! or Xaxa and all her people shall be struck dead!” I
fairly screamed at them.
Like cattle they turned and fled towards the entrance and Xaxa, her
knees shaking so that she could scarce stand erect, staggered after
them. A noble saw her and pushed her roughly back, but she shrieked and
ran after him when he had left her. Then others dragged her to the foot
of the altar and threw her roughly down and one menaced her with his
sword, but at that I called aloud that no harm must befall the Jeddara
if they did not wish the wrath of Tur to fall upon them all. They left
her lying there and so weak from fright was she that she could not rise,
and a moment later the temple was empty, but not until I had shouted
after them to clear the whole palace within a quarter zode, for my plan
required a free and unobstructed as well as unobserved field of action.
The last of them was scarce out of sight ere we three descended from the
head of Tur and stepped out upon the temple floor behind the idol.
Quickly I ran towards the altar, upon the other side of which Xaxa had
dropped to the floor in a swoon. She still lay there and I gathered her
into my arms and ran quickly back to the door in the wall behind the
idol—the doorway through which Gor Hajus and I had entered the temple
earlier in the day.
Preceded by Gor Hajus and followed by Dar Tarus, I ascended the runway
towards the roof where the conversation of the priests had informed us
were located the royal hangars. Had Hovan Du and Sag Or been with us my
cup of happiness would have been full, for within half a day, what had
seemed utter failure and defeat had been turned almost to assured
success. At the landing where lay Xaxa’s apartments we halted and looked
within, for the long night voyage I contemplated would be cold and the
body of Valla Dia must be kept warm with suitable robes even though it
was inhabited by the spirit of Xaxa. Seeing no one we entered and soon
found what we required. As I was adjusting a heavy robe of orluk about
the Jeddara she regained consciousness. Instantly she recognized me and
then Gor Hajus and finally Dar Tarus. Mechanically she felt for her
dagger, but it was not there and when she saw my smile she paled with
anger. At first she must have jumped to the conclusion that she had been
the victim of a hoax, but presently a doubt seemed to enter her
mind—she must have been recalling some of the things that had
transpired within the temple of the Great Tur, and these, neither she
nor any other mortal might explain.
“Who are you?” she demanded.
“I am Tur,” I replied, brazenly.
“What is your purpose with me?”
“I am going to take you away from Phundahl,” I replied.
“But I do not wish to go. You are not Tur. You are Vad Varo. I shall
call for help and my guards will come and slay you.”
“There is no one in the palace,” I reminded her. “Did I, Tur, not send
them away?”
“I shall not go with you,” she announced firmly. “Rather would I die.”
“You shall go with me, Xaxa,” I replied, and though she fought and
struggled we carried her from her apartment and up the spiral runway to
the roof where, I prayed, I should find the hangars and the royal
fliers; and as we stepped out into the fresh night air of Mars we did
see the hangars before us, but we saw something else—a group of
Phundahlian warriors of the Jeddara’s Guard whom they had evidently
failed to notify of the commands of Tur. At sight of them Xaxa cried
aloud in relief.
“To me! To the Jeddara!” she cried. “Strike down these assassins and
save me!”
There were three of them and there were three of us, but they were armed
and between us we had but Xaxa’s slender dagger. Gor Hajus carried that.
Victory seemed turned to defeat as they rushed towards us; but it was
Gor Hajus who gave them pause. He seized Xaxa and raised the blade, its
point above her heart. “Halt!” he cried, “or I strike.”
The warriors hesitated; Xaxa was silent, stricken with fear. Thus we
stood in stalemate when, just beyond the three Phundahlian warriors, I
saw a movement at the roof’s edge. What was it? In the dim light I saw
something that seemed a human head, and yet unhuman, rise slowly above
the edge of the roof, and then, silently, a great form followed, and
then I recognized it—Hovan Du, the great white ape.
“Tell them,” I cried to Xaxa in a loud voice that Hovan Du might hear,
“that I am Tur, for see, I come again in the semblance of a white ape!”
and I pointed to Hovan Du. “I would not destroy these poor warriors. Let
them lay down their weapons and go in peace.”
The men turned, and seeing the great ape standing there behind them,
materialized, it might have been, out of thin air, were shaken.
“Who is he, Jeddara?” demanded one of the men.
“It is Tur,” replied Xaxa in a weak voice; “but save me from him! Save
me from him!”
“Throw down your weapons and your harness and fly!” I commanded, “or Tur
will strike you dead. Heard you not the people rushing from the palace
at Tur’s command? How think you we brought Xaxa hither with a lesser
power than Tur’s when all her palace was filled with her fighting men?
Go, while yet you may in safety.”
One of them unbuckled his harness and threw it with his weapons upon the
roof, and as he started at a run for the spiral his companions followed
his example. Then Hovan Du approached us.
“Well done, Vad Varo,” he growled, “though I know not what it is all
about.”
“That you shall know later,” I told him, “but now we must find a swift
flier and be upon our way. Where is Sag Or? Does he still live?”
“I have him securely bound and safely hidden in one of the high towers
of the palace,” replied the ape. “It will be easy to get him when we
have launched a flier.”
Xaxa was eyeing us ragefully. “You are not Tur!” she cried. “The ape has
exposed you.”
“But too late to profit you in any way, Jeddara,” I assured her. “Nor
could you convince one of your people who stood in the temple this night
that I am not Tur. Nor do you, yourself, know that I am not. The ways of
Tur, the all-powerful, all-knowing, are beyond the conception of mortal
man. To you then, Jeddara, I am Tur, and you will find me all-powerful
enough for my purposes.”
I think she was still perplexed as we found and dragged forth a flier,
aboard which we placed her, and turned the craft’s nose towards a lofty
tower where Hovan Du told us lay Sag Or.
“I shall be glad to see myself again,” said Dar Tarus, with a laugh.
“And you shall be yourself again, Dar Tarus,” I told him, “as soon as
ever we can come again to the pits of Ras Thavas.”
“Would that I might be reunited with my sweet Kara Vasa,” he sighed.
“Then, Vad Varo, the last full measure of my gratitude would be yours.”
“Where may we find her?”
“Alas, I do not know. It was while I was searching for her that I was
apprehended by the agents of Xaxa. I had been to her father’s palace
only to learn that he had been assassinated and his property
confiscated. The whereabouts of Kara Vasa they either did not know or
would not divulge; but they held me there upon one pretext or another
until a detachment of the Jeddara’s Guard could come and arrest me.”
“We shall have to make inquiries of Sag Or,” I said.
We were now coming to a stop alongside a window of the tower Hovan Du
had indicated, and he and Dar Tarus leaped to the sill and disappeared
within. We were all armed now, having taken the weapons discarded by the
three warriors at the hangars, and with a good flier beneath our feet
and all our little company reunited, with Xaxa and Sag Or, whom they
were now conducting aboard, we were indeed in high spirits.
As we got under way again, setting our nose towards the east, I asked
Sag Or if he knew what had become of Kara Vasa, but he assured me, in
surly tones, that he did not.
“Think again, Sag Or,” I admonished him, “and think hard, for perhaps
upon your answer your life depends.”
“What chance have I for life?” he sneered, casting an ugly look towards
Dar Tarus.
“You have every chance,” I replied. “Your life lies in the hollow of my
hand; and you serve me well it shall be yours, though in your own body
and not in that belonging to Dar Tarus.”
“You do not intend destroying me?”
“Neither you nor Xaxa,” I answered. “Xaxa shall live on in her own body
and you in yours.”
“I do not wish to live in my own body,” snapped the Jeddara.
Dar Tarus stood looking at Sag Or—looking at his own body like some
disembodied soul—as weird a situation as I have ever encountered.
“Tell me, Sag Or,” he said, “what has become of Kara Vasa. When my body
has been restored to me and yours to you I shall hold no enmity against
you if you have not harmed Kara Vasa and will tell me where she be.”
“I cannot tell you, for I do not know. She was not harmed, but the day
after you were assassinated she disappeared from Phundahl. We were
positive that she was spirited away by her father, but from him we could
learn nothing. Then he was assassinated,” the man glanced at Xaxa, “and
since, we have learned nothing. A slave told us that Kara Vasa, with
some of her father’s warriors, had embarked upon a flier and set out for
Helium, where she purposed placing herself under the protection of the
great War Lord of Barsoom; but of the truth of that we know nothing.
This is the truth. I, Sag Or, have spoken!”
It was futile then to search Phundahl for Kara Vasa and so we held our
course towards the east and the Tower of Thavas.