THE NEW EMPEROR.
Grandon and his companions, peering over the rail of the airship, saw
that they had indeed arrived at the capital. Immediately below them was
the procession consisting of a string of vehicles and carts now led by
the one carrying Vernia, and accompanied by the two small armies of
Uxpo and Granterra, the latter with its strange, fierce sabit cavalry,
the like of which had never been seen before in Reabon.
From their point of vantage they could see that the city walls were
lined with spectators, as were both sides of the main thoroughfare
leading to the palace. The gates were slowly lifted, their powerful
motors humming sonorously, as the vehicle of the princess approached.
When it passed beneath the gates a mighty cheer went up from the
assemblage and the colors of Vernia flashed out suddenly, waved by a
hundred thousand hands. Then, as if in obedience to a single word of
command, every man, woman and child in that vast multitude bowed low,
with right hand extended palm downward.
The crowd that lined the broad avenue, soldiers and civilians alike,
remained on bended knees until the vehicle of the princess passed them,
then rose and waved her colors once more.
As the triumphal procession approached the palace gates the throngs
rose, and the inmates, from the highest to the most lowly, did homage.
A golden palanquin carried by four kings greeted the vehicle as it
arrived at the palace steps. Two slaves parted its scarlet curtains and
Vernia stepped within, motioning Rotha to follow. The curtains fell
back in place and the multitude rose and cheered vociferously as the
palanquin with its imperial burden was carried through the palace doors.
The air fleet, which had been hovering above the palace grounds, slowly
descended. As Grandon and his companions reached the foot of the
aluminum stairs, one at a time, they were met by a palace guard who
inquired their names and titles and assigned a slave to each man to
conduct him to his quarters.
Grandon had been amazed by the size and beauty of the imperial palace
as viewed from without, but even that marvelous sight did not prepare
him for the glory and magnificence he beheld within. As he followed his
guide, a beardless youth clad in the purple of nobility and evidently
serving as a sort of page while learning the customs of the court,
Grandon gazed in wonder and admiration at the rich decorations and
furnishings. Even the corridors through which they passed were paved
with blocks of agate and jasper, polished like glass and faultlessly
fitted together, while the sides and ceiling were of alabaster inlaid
with designs in pure gold and set with mural panels done in oil and
rimmed with platinum, each one a priceless work of art.
At length they came before a door of highly polished wood of a reddish
hue, studded with bolts of gold. On each side of this door stood a
soldier attired in the brilliant raiment of the imperial guard and
armed with tork, scarbo and broad-bladed spear.
Both bowed low with right hand extended palm downward, as Grandon came
before them. Then one rose and flung the door wide and the other drew
back a heavy scarlet curtain behind it.
* * * * *
Grandon entered, followed by the page. The curtain fell behind them
and the door was softly closed. The room they were in had evidently
belonged to a huntsman and warrior of no mean accomplishments. Its
paneled walls were hung with weapons and trophies of the chase and
battlefield, and skins of marmelots and ramphs, magnificent specimens,
were flung on the floor. A ramph, carved from the red wood and
supporting a round top of polished crystal formed a huge table in the
center of the room.
Two chairs, one on each side of the table, were cut from the same red
wood to represent kneeling giants holding the curved scarlet cushions
that formed the seats and backs.
The room was lighted by two large windows that reached from floor to
ceiling, and opened on a private balcony overlooking the palace garden.
Immediately adjoining this room, and separated only by an arched
doorway with scarlet hangings, was another, even more luxuriously
furnished and elaborately decorated. It was lighted, as was the first,
by two enormous windows reaching from floor to ceiling. Between them
was a massive sleeping shelf over which hung a scarlet canopy with a
golden fringe at its edge. Two chairs, a table smaller than the first,
and three huge chests or wardrobes completed its furnishings.
Grandon's guide led them directly through this room to a magnificent
bath which formed the third and last unit of the suite.
The ablutions over, the page provided him with a suit of scarlet
apparel from one of the huge wardrobes, and a slave brought a tray
containing a pot of fresh-brewed kova and an endless variety of choice
viands.
Grandon invited the page to participate in the feast, but he declined
with thanks, saying it was not seemly that he should eat at the same
table with royalty.
"You have been employed in the palace for sometime, have you not?"
inquired Grandon.
"For nearly two years, your majesty."
"Ah. Then perhaps you can tell me who formerly occupied this suite. It
must have been some one of consequence politically, as well as a mighty
hunter and warrior."
The page looked at him in amazement.
"Can it be possible that you do not know whose rooms these were?" he
exclaimed. "This is the private suite of Emperor Margo, the mightiest
of all emperors of Reabon and sire of our beloved Princess Vernia."
Grandon was dumfounded. That he, a mere king of Uxpo, should be
entertained in the imperial suite was amazing--incredible.
"Where is the new emperor named by the proclamation of the princess?"
he asked. "Where is Prince Destho, and why has the suite not been
turned over to him?"
"The Imperial Proclamation will not be read until high noon to-day.
Prince Destho is in the palace in his own suite. I do not understand
why this one should be turned over to him--it is for her majesty to
say who shall occupy it, at least until after the reading of the
proclamation."
There was a rap at the door and the page hastened to answer it. In a
moment he admitted Bonal, Vernia's pompous prime minister. That portly
individual bowed low with right hand extended palm downward, then stood
stiffly erect and delivered his message.
"It is the command of her Imperial Majesty, Vernia, Princess of Reabon,
that Grandon of Terra, King of Uxpo, attend her at once in the audience
chamber."
Grandon followed the officer through a maze of corridors and
passageways, then through an arched doorway between two guards who
saluted stiffly as he passed, and found himself in the audience chamber.
The door through which he had entered was at the right of the throne--a
door which royalty alone was privileged to use. He was escorted to a
position among the scarlet-clad members of Reabonian royalty, from
which he had an excellent view of the entire hall.
He could see Bordeen, Vorn Vangal and Dr. Morgan standing with the
purple-clad nobles. As the doctor wore a purple uniform it was apparent
that he had been created a noble of Reabon.
Below them in lines of the blue-clad commoners he could make out Oro
and Rotha, and the uniforms of many Fighting Traveks as well as the
glistening armor of the Granterrites. Across from him, clad in the
scarlet of royalty, he saw Harry Thorne, Joto, and, somewhat apart from
them, the triumphantly grinning Prince Destho.
* * * * *
The buzz of conversation ceased abruptly as the scarlet curtains that
surrounded the throne slowly parted and slid majestically back to the
wall in shimmering folds, announcing the coming of the Princess.
Then the massive doors at the end of the hall swung open and the
imperial procession entered, headed by the four kings who bore the
palanquin, and followed by Orthad, Supreme Commander of Reabon, who
carried on a scarlet cushion the huge jeweled scarbo that was the
scepter of Reabonian authority.
After him came a hundred members of the Imperial Guard with gorgeous
uniforms and shining weapons, who ranged themselves in two straight
lines reaching from the foot of the throne to the end of the hall.
Then, for the first time, Grandon saw how a ruler of Reabon mounted
to the throne. As Vernia stepped from the palanquin her eyes swept
the assemblage and paused for a moment as they found his. That they
conveyed some unspoken message was apparent--a message of farewell, he
thought, and his heart grew icy within him.
As the four kings prostrated themselves and she mounted the human
steps and took her seat with graceful dignity, there flashed over him
a feeling of utter despair. So this was the end--this his farewell and
his reward.
Orthad presented the imperial scarbo which she took from the cushion
and rested across the arms of the throne. Again her gaze swept the
assemblage and her eyes rested for a moment on Grandon. If she would
only give him some encouragement, some sign, before the reading of
that accursed proclamation, he and his allies could sweep the rabble
from the palace and grounds in a twinkling. With the aid of the Olban
air fleet they could easily reach Uxpo and in a few months set up such
defenses as would make it practically impregnable.
It became plainly apparent in a moment that Vernia had no intention
of asking assistance, for she summoned Bonal, her prime minister, and
ordered him to read the proclamation.
As Bonal faced the crowd and unrolled the document with an exaggerated
flourish, Grandon looked across at Prince Destho, and noting the look
of triumph in his dark eyes and the sneering grin on his sensuous lips,
with difficulty restrained himself from leaping across that narrow
space and throttling the man whose cunning had thwarted his hope of
happiness forever.
The prime minister stepped to the edge of the dais and read:
"A Proclamation by Her Imperial Majesty, Vernia, Princess of Reabon.
"On the twenty-fourth day of the eighth Endir in the four thousand
and tenth year of Thorth, I, Vernia of Reabon, hereby proclaim
and declare to all my subjects throughout the length and breadth
of the empire that I have taken for my husband, and raised to the
office of emperor, to rule over me and my people, the brave and
illustrious Grandon of Terra.
"It is my command that copies of this proclamation be made and
distributed to all parts of the empire without delay, and that the
fifth day of the ninth Endir be set aside as a day for feasting and
suitable celebration my honor of this momentous event.
"Vernia, Princess of Reabon."
Grandon could scarcely believe the testimony of his ears when he
heard his name pronounced. For him, the rest of the proclamation was
a meaningless blur of words. A glance at Prince Destho showed that he
was no less amazed, for his face paled, then took on a livid hue and an
expression truly demoniac in character. His thick lips drew back in a
snarl like that of a cornered hahoe, then twitched convulsively.
A ringing cheer broke from the throats of the vast multitude:
"Long life to Grandon of Terra, Emperor of Reabon!"
Not knowing what was expected of him, Grandon stood still until a young
prince plucked at his elbow and whispered:
"Step before the throne."
He followed this sound advice and waited, stiffly erect, while Vernia
descended and gave the imperial scarbo into his keeping.
"Mount to the throne," she bade him in a whisper, "and place the scarbo
across the arms as you saw me--" Suddenly she paused with a scream of
terror. "Look behind you--quickly!"
* * * * *
He whirled in time to see Destho, his face contorted with rage and his
scarbo descending in a shimmering arc. There was no time to parry the
blow, but Grandon leaped aside with catlike quickness, then caught
the blade with the imperial scarbo, twirled it with a rapidity that
the eyes of the astonished witnesses could not follow, and sent it
clattering to the floor.
His weapon gone, the wily Destho turned and sprinted desperately for a
side door. Soldiers ran to intercept him, but before he reached them a
man attired in a bloody, tattered uniform leaped out from the ranks of
the commoners and caught him by the beard.
"Thus should all traitors die!"
As the words rang clear above the tumult, a knife flashed aloft for
a moment in the hand of the soldier, then plunged into the breast of
Destho.
Grandon arrived on the scene in time to see the plotter lying on the
floor with bloody froth issuing from his mouth and trickling down on
his wiry beard. His assailant had fallen across his prostrate body, and
Grandon, in surprise, recognized Zueppa. The wound inflicted on Zueppa
by the man he had just slain had been reopened by his exertion. In a
moment both were dead.
Four soldiers removed the bodies and order was restored with surprising
celerity. Again Grandon moved to the foot of the throne where Vernia
awaited him, wide-eyed and trembling. He took her hands in his for a
moment, then she resolutely bade him proceed.
Upon his return the four kings had prostrated themselves on the
steps leading to the throne in accordance with the customs of their
ancestors. Grandon hesitated to mount those four human steps. He turned
to Vernia.
"I am emperor now, am I not?"
"Assuredly, my lord."
"And my word is law?"
"So long as it does not conflict with the written constitution of
Reabon."
"Is this matter of mounting to the throne on the backs of one's vassal
kings written into the constitution?"
"No. It is traditional custom that has been observed for generations
and signifies the complete submission of the heads of the various
kingdoms."
"Then it shall be abolished. I expect loyalty from my subjects, but not
abject servility."
Then, to the surprise of the four kings, he bade them rise and stand,
each man on the step he occupied, two to the right and two to the left.
Thus attended, Grandon mounted to the throne while the spectators
looked on in amazement.
* * * * *
When he had taken his seat with quiet dignity and rested the scarbo
across the arms of the throne, Vernia mounted and bowed before him with
right hand extended palm downward--an example which was followed by the
entire assemblage. It was indeed a day of surprise for the good people
of Reabon, for no sooner had she knelt before him than he, in violation
of an age-old custom which decreed that the empress should sit at the
feet of her lord, swung the scarbo to one side and lifted her up beside
him on the throne.
"You shouldn't have done this," she gasped. "It is not the custom. My
place is--"
"Custom be hanged!" he responded, and there, in full view of that vast
multitude, he kissed his bride full upon the lips.
The crowd responded with a resounding cheer.
"A long and happy reign to our brave emperor and his beautiful empress!"
Then the shimmering scarlet curtains crept around the throne, and
Grandon forgot all else when two soft arms stole around his neck and
the fluffy head of the most glorious woman of two planets nestled on
his shoulder.
"I don't understand about the proclamation yet," he said, at length.
"How and when did you manage to change it?"
"It was changed before I affixed my signature," she said, "else I
should sooner have died than sign it. While Destho's attention was
momentarily drawn to you I crossed out his name and substituted yours.
I then allowed the scroll to roll half downward, as if by accident, and
when he turned he saw that I was signing and, happily, never bothered
to unroll it again!"
At a loss for suitable words to express his admiration and adoration,
Grandon sought refuge in banality.
"You wonderful little woman," he said.
And the "wonderful little woman," being, after all, more of a woman
than a princess--which was as it should be--flushed happily at his
words of praise, and with eyes half veiled as though to hide the
wondrous promise they revealed, tremulously surrendered her lips to
her chosen lord.
* * * * *
At midnight, two weeks later, Grandon and Vernia stood on the roof of
their palace watching the movement of a metal cylinder that was slowly
screwing itself into place in a huge sphere of asbestos and steel.
Bordeen had left that day for Uxpo with the Fighting Traveks. Oro,
Rotha, and Tholto had accompanied Joto and his Granterrites back to
their people in the Valley of the Sabits, and Harry Thorne and Vorn
Vangal had flown for Olba, as the former Martian was anxious to be with
a certain beautiful princess who awaited him.
They had bidden Dr. Morgan good-by after helping him into his ponderous
diving suit, had watched him clamber aboard, draw up the ladder and
close the cylindrical door, and now waited to see his remarkable
interplanetary vehicle begin its long journey back to Earth.
At length the cylinder clicked into place, and Grandon signaled two
attendants, who flashed a powerful searchlight on the sphere.
Slowly it rose, rocking gently at first like a toy balloon on a
flexible wand. Then, with a suddenness that was appalling, it shot
swiftly skyward. The searchlight swung upward, groped about for a
moment, making a flashing spot of light on the fleecy clouds, and then
found its objective. In that incredibly short time the sphere had
traveled so far as to have the diminutive appearance of an orange. A
moment later it was but a tiny pin-point of white. Then it disappeared.
Grandon ordered the light shut off and turned to go, when Vernia laid
her hand on his arm.
"Look," she said. "Your world and your moon."
He looked, and for a brief moment was vouchsafed the glorious
spectacle of the Earth and her satellite, through a break in the
clouds--the most brilliant and beautiful sight in the night-time
heavens of Zarovia.
Then he turned to the infinitely more lovely vision beside him, and
together they descended the stairs.
THE END.