The hours, the days, that followed, I remember now as one remembers a
particularly vivid dream, for even at the time, I seemed to see all
in the city around me through the haze of assured impossibility that
surrounds a dream. And, although I can well understand how the city in
the pit was a very hell on earth to those long confined in it, yet to
me during the next few days it was a city of wonder.
There was little to do but wander through it. Each day we waited
tensely for night, but always when night came there came with it a
flood of soft light that poured down revealingly from the roof, the
moonlight of the earth above brought down to us by the glass globes
above and in the roof. Had it been cloudy above, it would have been
dark enough here in the pit to chance an attempt, but to do so in the
brilliant light was out of the question. And we dared take no more
chances than necessary, since if discovered, we should doubtless never
live to make another attempt.
So in the eight days that followed, while Denham and his friends
fretted impatiently at the delay, I spent the time roaming through
the city, usually with one or all of the four friends as guide. When
possible, we preferred to keep together, since thus we made up a strong
little company whose five swords deterred many truculent souls from
attacking us.
Even so, we were twice involved in combats, from both of which we
managed to emerge victorious, though not unscathed. It was a bloody
enough society, there in the city of the pit, a wilder life almost than
that of roaming wolves, yet it had a fierce, free charm that stirred
me, at times. A product of civilization, myself, I was thrown now
into a life where strength and skill with weapons were the measure
of a man, and where all disputes were settled with swords. Cooped as
we were in the crowded pit, yet we were untrammeled by any form of
law or etiquette, and I soon learned to swagger as boldly and scowl
as ferociously as any fire-eater in the pit. And, too, in constant
practise with my friends, I learned sword-play well.
I came to love my four new-found friends, in those days. Four men, out
of four different centuries, and different in temperament as they were,
yet strong bonds of friendship sprang up between them and myself, and
Lantin also.
From the beginning, I had felt attracted to Denham, for he was more
of my own time and way of thinking than the rest. Fastidious, elegant
even, in manner, and of an indolent disposition naturally, yet he was
terribly quick in battle, his slim rapier flashing out resistlessly
even while he yawned in his opponent's face. He was a good bit of a
fop, and it was a source of constant mirth to us to watch him cleaning
and patching his ragged suit, and anxiously assuring himself of the fit
of the torn coat. But at all our jests, he would smile quietly, and go
on with his work.
A great deal different was D'Alord, though he attracted me as much.
Swearing, laughing, shouting, he was never quiet, never still, and even
in the cramped pit lived with a magnificent gusto that was enviable.
He was very quick to take offense, and the rest of us had trouble
always in keeping him from embroiling us in some senseless quarrel, but
he was as quick to forget the cause of offense, and was incapable of
holding a grudge. More than the rest of us, he loved fighting for its
own sake, and was so much in his element in the pit that he sometimes
declared that if it were not for the lack of wine and women, he would
be content to stay in the pit forever.
Some few years older than the rest of us was the Roman, who had
followed the insignia of his legion over all the distant frontiers of
the Empire, from Parthia to Britain. He was never excited, and never
unprepared, a calm, fearless veteran, who made me understand something
of the greatness of his people, who reared up the greatest empire in
history, and stamped their language and their customs on half the world.
Strangest of the four, perhaps, was the Aztec. Quiet, even gentle, when
not provoked; yet I have never seen such tigerish fury as he exhibited
in battle. He had a great name as a fighter, even in that city of
warriors, and was feared by the most fearless. He could handle his
saw-toothed sword with wonderful skill and quickness, and I shuddered
at the gashing wounds he inflicted with it. As staunch and faithful
a friend as I have ever had or seen, yet to those he hated he was a
terrible enemy.
Always, while we five roamed through the city, we searched for Cannell,
but found him not. I began to think that, after all, Cannell was not in
the pit, for though it was possible we had missed him in the swirling
hordes, it was equally possible that he had been killed in some combat
here or above, and that he now walked dead-alive through the city of
the Kanlars as one of the ghastly, white-robed slaves.
But Lantin would not believe that. He searched from dawn to darkness
of each day, and was not discouraged when he failed to find his
friend. He did not accompany us five in our rambles through the city,
preferring to search alone, and though we were fearful for his safety,
he was never molested. His obvious elderliness, and the gentleness and
inoffensiveness of his nature, served to protect him from the constant
bullying and fighting that went on in the pit.
The days dragged past, and working in odd hours when we were not
noticed, we managed to make a metal grappling-hook and a long rope.
The hook was much like a triple fishing-hook, large enough to catch on
the wall of the stair, and was hammered out from pieces wrenched from
metal chairs. The rope, a long and very strong one, was braided from
long strips of torn cloth, and was knotted to make easier an ascent
along its length. Both rope and hook lay concealed beneath the bunk of
D'Alord, in a cunningly contrived little hiding place there.
So we came at last to the eighth day, the night of which would be
moonless on the earth above, with consequent darkness below. As the day
wore on, we grew increasingly nervous, with the exception of Fabrius,
who appeared as imperturbable as ever. Finally the light from the
roof waned and died, and a thick darkness settled down on the city, a
darkness relieved only by one or two of the glowing red bulbs that
were set around the gate of the stair, and along the nine streets.
An hour passed, and another, and another. Then Denham rose from his
bunk and sauntered leisurely out of the room, followed in a few minutes
by D'Alord and the Aztec. By now the bunks were filled with snoring
sleepers, but as the two went across the room to the door, none of
these stirred, so Lantin, Fabrius and I followed, the Roman carrying
the hook and rope concealed under his cloak.
We stepped from the dark room into a street almost equally dark, the
ruddy bulbs set sparsely along its length accentuating rather than
dispersing the blackness. A few drunken stragglers were wandering along
the street, but most of the city's thousands were slumbering in the
many buildings, for few were abroad in the pit at night.
Denham, D'Alord and Ixtil were awaiting us outside, and without
speaking, our entire little party moved rapidly down the dark street,
toward the plaza and the great stair.
_CHAPTER 14_