"And you speak the language of these people?" asked Tarzan, indicating
the young woman and Fastus and ignoring the black's query.
"Of course," said the black. "I have been a prisoner among them for
many years, but there are many Bagegos among my fellow prisoners and
we have not forgotten the language of our mothers."
"Good," said Tarzan. "Through you this young woman may speak to me."
"She wants to know who you are, and where you came from, and what you
were doing in her garden, and how you got here, and how you happened to
protect her from Fastus, and--"
Tarzan held up his hand. "One at a time," he cried. "Tell her I am
Tarzan of the Apes, a stranger from a far country, and I came here in
friendship seeking one of my own people who is lost."
Now came an interruption in the form of loud pounding and hallooing
beyond the outer doorway of the building.
"See what that may be, Axuch," directed the girl, and as the one so
addressed, and evidently a slave, humbly turned to do her bidding, she
once more addressed Tarzan through the interpreter.
"You have won the gratitude of Dilecta," she said, "and you shall be
rewarded by her father."
At this moment Axuch returned followed by a young officer. As the eyes
of the newcomer fell upon Tarzan they went wide and he started back,
his hand going to the hilt of his sword, and simultaneously Tarzan
recognized him as Maximus Praeclarus, the young patrician officer who
had conducted him from the Colosseum to the palace.
"Lay off your sword, Maximus Praeclarus," said the young girl, "for
this man is no enemy."
"And you are sure of that, Dilecta?" demanded Praeclarus. "What do you
know of him?"
"I know that he came in time to save me from this swine who would have
harmed me," said the girl haughtily, casting a withering glance at
Fastus.
"I do not understand," said Praeclarus. "This is a barbarian prisoner
of war who calls himself Tarzan and whom I took this morning from the
Colosseum to the palace at the command of the Emperor, that Sublatus
might look upon the strange creature, whom some thought to be a spy
from Castrum Mare."
"If he is a prisoner, what is he doing here, then?" demanded the girl.
"And why are you here?"
"This fellow attacked the Emperor himself and then escaped from the
palace. The entire city is being searched and I, being in charge of
a detachment of soldiers assigned to this district, came immediately
hither, fearing the very thing that has happened and that this wild man
might find you and do you harm."
"It was the patrician, Fastus, son of Imperial Caesar, who would have
harmed me," said the girl. "It was the wild man who saved me from him."
Maximus Praeclarus looked quickly at Fastus the son of Sublatus, and
then at Tarzan. The young officer appeared to be resting upon the horns
of a dilemma.
"There is your man," said Fastus, with a sneer. "Back to the dungeons
with him."
"Maximus Praeclarus does not take orders from Fastus," said the young
man, "and he knows his duty without consulting him."
"You will arrest this man who has protected me, Praeclarus?" demanded
Dilecta.
"What else may I do?" asked Praeclarus. "It is my duty."
"Then do it," sneered Fastus.
Praeclarus went white. "It is with difficulty that I can keep my hands
off you, Fastus," he said. "If you were the son of Jupiter himself, it
would not take much more to get yourself choked. If you know what is
well for you, you will go before I lose control of my temper."
"Mpingu," said Dilecta, "show Fastus to the avenue."
Fastus flushed. "My father, the Emperor, shall hear of this," he
snarled; "and do not forget, Dilecta, your father stands none too well
in the estimation of Sublatus Imperator."
"Get gone," cried Dilecta, "before I order my black slave to throw you
into the avenue."
With a sneer and a swagger Fastus quit the garden, and when he had gone
Dilecta turned to Maximus Praeclarus.
"What shall we do?" she cried. "I must protect this noble stranger who
saved me from Fastus, and at the same time you must do your duty and
return him to Sublatus."
"I have a plan," said Maximus Praeclarus, "but I cannot carry it out
unless I can talk with the stranger."
"Mpingu can understand and interpret for him," the girl.
"Can you trust Mpingu implicitly?" asked Praeclarus.
"Absolutely," said Dilecta.
"Then send away the others," said Praeclarus, indicating Axuch and
Sarus; and when Mpingu returned from escorting Fastus to the street he
found Maximus Praeclarus, Dilecta, and Tarzan alone in the garden.
Praeclarus motioned Mpingu to advance. "Tell the stranger that I have
been sent to arrest him," he said to Mpingu, "but tell him also that
because of the service he has rendered Dilecta I wish to protect him,
if he will follow my instructions."
"What are they?" asked Tarzan when the question had been put to him.
"What do you wish me to do?"
"I wish you to come with me," said Praeclarus; "to come with me as
though you are my prisoner. I shall take you in the direction of
the Colosseum and when I am opposite my own home I shall give you a
signal so that you will understand that the house is mine. Immediately
afterward I will make it possible for you to escape into the trees as
you did when you quit the palace with Sublatus. Go, then, immediately
to my house and remain there until I return. Dilecta will send Mpingu
there now to warn my servants that you are coming. At my command they
will protect you with their lives. Do you understand?"
"I understand," replied the ape-man, when the plan had been explained
to him by Mpingu.
"Later," said Praeclarus, "we may be able to find a way to get you out
of Castra Sanguinarius and across the mountains."
_Chapter Ten_
The cares of state rested lightly upon the shoulders of Validus
Augustus, Emperor of the East, for though his title was imposing his
domain was small and his subjects few. The island city of Castrum Mare
boasted a population of only a trifle more than twenty-two thousand
people, of which some three thousand were whites and nineteen thousand
of mixed blood, while outside the city, in the villages of the lake
dwellers and along the eastern shore of Mare Orientis, dwelt the
balance of his subjects, comprising some twenty-six thousand blacks.
Today, reports and audiences disposed of, the Emperor had withdrawn to
the palace garden to spend an hour in conversation with a few of his
intimates, while his musicians, concealed within a vine-covered bower,
entertained him. While he was thus occupied a chamberlain approached
and announced that the patrician Fulvus Fupus begged an audience of the
Emperor.
"Fulvus knows that the audience hour is past," snapped the Emperor.
"Bid him come on the morrow."
"He insists, most glorious Caesar," said the chamberlain, "that his
business is of the utmost importance and that it is only because he
felt that the safety of the Emperor is at stake that he came at this
hour."
"Bring him here then," commanded Validus, and, as the chamberlain
turned away, "Am I never to have a moment's relaxation without some
fool like Fulvus Fupus breaking in upon me with some silly story?" he
grumbled to one of his companions.
When Fulvus approached the Emperor a moment later, he was received with
a cold and haughty stare.
"I have come, most glorious Caesar," said Fulvus, "to fulfill the duty
of a citizen of Rome, whose first concern should be the safety of his
Emperor."
"What are you talking about?" snapped Validus. "Quick, out with it!"
"There is a stranger in Castrum Mare who claims to be a barbarian from
Germania, but I believe him to be a spy from Castrum Sanguinarius
where, it is said, Cassius Hasta is an honored guest of Sublatus, in
that city."
"What do you know about Cassius Hasta and what has he to do with it?"
demanded Validus.
"It is said--it is rumored," stammered Fulvus Fupus, "that--"
"I have heard too many rumors already about Cassius Hasta," exclaimed
Validus. "Can I not dispatch my nephew upon a mission without every
fool in Castrum Mare lying awake nights to conjure motives, which may
later be ascribed to me."
"It is only what I heard," said Fulvus, flushed and uncomfortable. "I
do not know anything about it. I did not say that I knew."
"Well, what did you hear?" demanded Validus. "Come, out with it."
"The talk is common in the Baths that you sent Cassius Hasta away
because he was plotting treason and that he went at once to Sublatus,
who received him in a friendly fashion and that together they are
planning an attack upon Castrum Mare."
Validus scowled. "Baseless rumor," he said; "but what about this
prisoner? What has he to do with it and why have I not been advised of
his presence?"
"That I do not know," said Fulvus Fupus. "That is why I felt it doubly
my duty to inform you, since the man who is harboring the stranger is a
most powerful patrician and one who might well be ambitious."
"Who is he?" asked the Emperor.
"Septimus Favonius," replied Fupus.
"Septimus Favonius!" exclaimed Validus. "Impossible."
"Not so impossible," said Fupus, boldly, "if glorious Caesar will but
recall the friendship that ever existed between Cassius Hasta and
Mallius Lepus, the nephew of Septimus Favonius. The home of Septimus
Favonius was the other home of Cassius Hasta. To whom, then, sooner
might he turn for aid than to this powerful friend whose ambitions are
well known outside the palace, even though they may not as yet have
come to the ears of Validus Augustus?"
Nervously the Emperor arose and paced to and fro, the eyes of the
others watching him narrowly; those of Fulvus Fupus narrowed with
malign anticipation.
Presently Validus halted and turned toward one of his courtiers. "May
Hercules strike me dead," he cried, "if there be not some truth in what
Fulvus Fupus suggests!" and to Fupus, "What is this stranger like?"
"He is a man of white skin, yet of slightly different complexion and
appearance than the usual patrician. He feigns to speak our language
with a certain practiced stiltedness that is intended to suggest lack
of familiarity. This, I think, is merely a part of the ruse to deceive."
"How did he come into Castrum Mare and none of my officers report the
matter to me?" asked Validus.
"That you may learn from Mallius Lepus," said Fulvus Fupus, "for
Mallius Lepus was in command of the Porta Decumana when some of the
barbarians of the lake villages brought him there, presumably a
prisoner, yet Caesar knows how easy it would have been to bribe these
creatures to play such a part."
"You explain it so well, Fulvus Fupus," said the Emperor, "that one
might even suspect you to have been the instigator of the plot, or at
least to have given much thought to similar schemes."
"Caesar's ever brilliant wit never deserts him," said Fupus, forcing a
smile, though his face paled.
"We shall see," snapped Validus, and turning to one of his officers,
"Order the arrest of Septimus Favonius, and Mallius Lepus and this
stranger at once."
As he ceased speaking a chamberlain entered the garden and approached
the Emperor. "Septimus Favonius requests an audience," he announced.
"Mallius Lepus, his nephew, and a stranger are with him."
"Fetch them," said Validus, and to the officer who was about to depart
to arrest them, "Wait here. We shall see what Septimus Favonius has to
say."
A moment later the three entered and approached the Emperor. Favonius
and Lepus saluted Validus and then the former presented von Harben as a
barbarian chief from Germania.
"We have already heard of this barbarian chief," said Validus, with a
sneer. Favonius and Lepus glanced at Fupus. "Why was I not immediately
notified of the capture of this prisoner?" This time the Emperor
directed his remarks to Mallius Lepus.
"There has been little delay, Caesar," replied the young officer. "It
was necessary that he be bathed and properly clothed before he was
brought here."
"It was not necessary that he be brought here," said Validus. "There
are dungeons in Castrum Mare for prisoners from Castra Sanguinarius."
"He is not from Castra Sanguinarius," said Septimus Favonius.
"Where are you from and what are you doing in my country?" demanded
Validus, turning upon von Harben.
"I am from a country that your historians knew as Germania," replied
Erich.
"And I suppose you learned to speak our language in Germania," sneered
Validus.
"Yes," replied von Harben, "I did."
"And you have never been to Castra Sanguinarius?"
"Never."
"I presume you have been to Rome," laughed Validus.
"Yes, many times," replied von Harben.
"And who is Emperor there now?"
"There is no Roman Emperor," said von Harben.
"No Roman Emperor!" exclaimed Validus. "If you are not a spy from
Castra Sanguinarius, you are a lunatic. Perhaps you are both, for no
one but a lunatic would expect me to believe such a story. No Roman
Emperor, indeed!"
"There is no Roman Emperor," said von Harben, "because there is no
Roman Empire. Mallius Lepus tells me that your country has had no
intercourse with the outside world for more than eighteen hundred
years. Much can happen in that time--much has happened. Rome fell, over
a thousand years ago. No nation speaks its language today, which is
understood by priests and scholars only. The barbarians of Germania,
of Gallia, and of Britannia have built empires and civilizations of
tremendous power, and Rome is only a city in Italia."
Mallius Lepus was beaming delightedly. "I told you," he whispered to
Favonius, "that you would love him. By Jupiter, I wish he would tell
Validus the story of the litters that travel fifty thousand paces an
hour!"
There was that in the tone and manner of von Harben that compelled
confidence and belief, so that even the suspicious Validus gave
credence to the seemingly wild tales of the stranger and presently
found himself asking questions of the barbarian.
Finally the Emperor turned to Fulvus Fupus. "Upon what proof did you
accuse this man of being a spy from Castra Sanguinarius?" he demanded.
"Where else may he be from?" asked Fulvus Fupus. "We know he is not
from Castrum Mare, so he must be from Castrum Sanguinarius."
"You have no evidence then to substantiate your accusations?"
Fupus hesitated.
"Get out," ordered Validus, angrily. "I shall attend to you later."
Overcome by mortification, Fupus left the garden, but the malevolent
glances that he shot at Favonius, Lepus, and Erich boded them no good.
Validus looked long and searchingly at von Harben for several minutes
after Fupus quit the garden as though attempting to read the soul of
the stranger standing before him.
"So there is no Emperor at Rome," he mused, half aloud. "When
Sanguinarius led his cohort out of Aegyptus, Nerva was Emperor. That
was upon the sixth day before the calends of February in the 848th year
of the city in the second year of Nerva's reign. Since that day no word
of Rome has reached the descendants of Sanguinarius and his cohort."
Von Harben figured rapidly, searching his memory for the historical
dates and data of ancient history that were as fresh in his mind as
those of his own day. "The sixth day before the calends of February,"
he repeated; "that would be the twenty-seventh day of January in the
848th year of the city--why, January twenty-seventh, A.D. 98 is the
date of Nerva's death," he said.
"Ah, if Sanguinarius had but known," said Validus, "but Aegyptus is a
long way from Rome and Sanguinarius was far to the south up the Nilus
before word could have reached his post by ancient Thebae that his
enemy was dead. And who became Emperor after Nerva? Do you know that?"
"Trajan," replied von Harben.
"Why do you, a barbarian, know so much concerning the history of Rome?"
asked the Emperor.
"I am a student of such things," replied von Harben. "It has been my
ambition to become an authority on the subject."
"Could you write down these happenings since the death of Nerva?"
"I could put down all that I could recall, or all that I have read,"
said von Harben, "but it would take a long time."
"You shall do it," said Validus, "and you shall have the time."
"But I had not planned remaining in your country," dissented von Harben.
"You shall remain," said Validus. "You shall also write a history of
the reign of Validus Augustus, Emperor of the East."
"But--" interjected von Harben.
"Enough!" snapped Validus. "I am Caesar. It is a command."
Von Harben shrugged and smiled. Rome and the Caesars, he realized, had
never seemed other than musty parchment and weather-worn inscriptions
cut in crumbling stone, until now.
Here, indeed was a real Caesar. What matter it that his empire was
naught but a few square miles of marsh, an island and swampy shore-land
in the bottom of an unknown canyon, or that his subjects numbered less
than fifty thousand souls--the first Augustus himself was no more a
Caesar than was his namesake, Validus.
"Come," said Validus, "I shall take you to the library myself, for that
will be the scene of your labors."
In the library, which was a vault-like room at the end of a long
corridor, Validus displayed with pride several hundred parchment rolls
neatly arranged upon shelves.
"Here," said Validus, selecting one of the rolls, "is the story of
Sanguinarius and the history of our country up to the founding of
Castrum Mare. Take it with you and read it at your leisure, for while
you shall remain with Septimus Favonius, whom with Mallius Lepus I
shall hold responsible for you, every day you shall come to the palace
and I shall dictate to you the history of my reign. Go, now, with
Septimus Favonius and at this hour tomorrow attend again upon Caesar."
When they were outside the palace of Validus Augustus, von Harben
turned to Mallius Lepus. "It is a question whether I am prisoner or
guest," he said, with a rueful smile.
"Perhaps you are both," said Mallius Lepus, "but that you are even
partially a guest is fortunate for you. Validus Augustus is vain,
arrogant, and cruel. He is also suspicious, for he knows that he is not
popular, and Fulvus Fupus had evidently almost succeeded in bringing
your doom upon you and ruin to Favonius and myself before we arrived.
What strange whim altered the mind of Caesar I do not know, but it is
fortunate for you that it was altered; fortunate, too, for Septimus
Favonius and Mallius Lepus."
"But it will take years to write the history of Rome," said von Harben.
"And if you refuse to write it you will be dead many more years than it
would take to accomplish the task," retorted Mallius Lepus, with a grin.
"Castrum Mare is not an unpleasant place in which to live," said
Septimus Favonius.
"Perhaps you are right," said von Harben, as the face of the daughter
of Favonius presented itself to his mind.
Returned to the home of his host, the instinct of the archaeologist and
the scholar urged von Harben to an early perusal of the ancient papyrus
roll that Caesar had loaned him, so that no sooner was he in the
apartments that had been set aside for him than he stretched himself
upon a long sofa and untied the cords that confined the roll.
As it unrolled before his eyes he saw a manuscript in ancient Latin,
marred by changes and erasures, yellowed by age. It was quite unlike
anything that had previously fallen into his hands during his scholarly
investigations into the history and literature of ancient Rome. For
whereas such other original ancient manuscripts as he had had the good
fortune to examine had been the work of clerks or scholars, a moment's
glance at this marked it as the laborious effort of a soldier unskilled
in literary pursuits.
The manuscript bristled with the rough idiom of far-flung camps of
veteran legionaries, with the slang of Rome and Egypt of nearly
two thousand years before, and there were references to people and
places that appeared in no histories or geographies known to modern
man--little places and little people that were without fame in their
own time and whose very memory had long since been erased from the
consciousness of man, but yet in this crude manuscript they lived
again for Erich von Harben--the quaestor who had saved the life of
Sanguinarius in an Egyptian town that never was on any map, and there
was Marcus Crispus Sanguinarius himself who had been of sufficient
importance to win the enmity of Nerva in the year 90 A.D.
while the latter was consul--Marcus Crispus Sanguinarius, the founder
of an empire, whose name appears nowhere in the annals of ancient Rome.
With mounting interest von Harben read the complaints of Sanguinarius
and his anger because the enmity of Nerva had caused him to be
relegated to the hot sands of this distant post below the ancient city
of Thebae in far Aegyptus.
Writing in the third person, Sanguinarius had said:
"Sanguinarius, a praefect of the Third Cohort of the Tenth Legion,
stationed below Thebae in Aegyptus in the 846th year of the city,
immediately after Nerva assumed the purple, was accused of having
plotted against the Emperor.
"About the fifth day before the calends of February in the 848th year
of the city a messenger came to Sanguinarius from Nerva commanding the
praefect to return to Rome and place himself under arrest, but this
Sanguinarius had no mind to do, and as no other in his camp knew the
nature of the message he had received from Nerva, Sanguinarius struck
the messenger down with his dagger and caused the word to be spread
among his men that the man had been an assassin sent from Rome and that
Sanguinarius had slain him in self-defense.
"He also told his lieutenants and centurions that Nerva was sending a
large force to destroy the cohort and he prevailed upon them to follow
up the Nilus in search of a new country where they might establish
themselves far from the malignant power of a jealous Caesar, and upon
the following day the long march commenced.
"It so happened that shortly before this a fleet of one hundred and
twenty vessels landed at Myos-hormos, a port of Aegyptus on the Sinus
Arabius. This merchant fleet annually brought rich merchandise from
the island of Tapro-bana--silk, the value of which was equal to its
weight in gold, pearls, diamonds, and a variety of aromatics and other
merchandise, which was transferred to the backs of camels and brought
inland from Myos-hormos to the Nilus and down that river to Alexandria,
whence it was shipped to Rome.
"With this caravan were hundreds of slaves from India and far Cathay
and even light-skinned people captured in the distant northwest by
Mongol raiders. The majority of these were young girls destined for
the auction block at Rome. And it so chanced that Sanguinarius met
this caravan, heavy with riches and women, and captured it. During the
ensuing five years the cohort settled several times in what they hoped
would prove a permanent camp, but it was not until the 853rd year of
Rome that, by accident, they discovered the hidden canyon where now
stands Castra Sanguinarius."
"You find it interesting?" inquired a voice from the doorway, and
looking up von Harben saw Mallius Lepus standing on the threshold.
"Very," said Erich.
Lepus shrugged his shoulders. "We suspect that it would have been more
interesting had the old assassin written the truth," said Lepus. "As a
matter of fact, very little is known concerning his reign, which lasted
for twenty years. He was assassinated in the year 20 Anno Sanguinarii,
which corresponds to the 873rd year of Rome. The old buck named the
city after himself, decreed a calendar of his own, and had his head
stamped on gold coins, many of which are still in existence. Even today
we use his calendar quite as much as that of our Roman ancestors, but
in Castrum Mare we have tried to forget the example of Sanguinarius as
much as possible."
"What is this other city that I have heard mentioned so often and that
is called Castra Sanguinarius?" asked von Harben.
"It is the original city founded by Sanguinarius," replied Lepus.
"For a hundred years after the founding of the city conditions grew
more and more intolerable until no man's life or property was safe,
unless he was willing to reduce himself almost to the status of a
slave and continually fawn upon the Emperor. It was then that Honus
Hasta revolted and led a few hundred families to this island at the
eastern end of the valley, founding the city and the empire of Castrum
Mare. Here, for over seventeen hundred years, the descendants of these
families have lived in comparative peace and security, but in an almost
constant state of war with Castra Sanguinarius.
"From mutual necessity the two cities carry on a commerce that is
often interrupted by raids and wars. The suspicion and hatred that
the inhabitants of each city feel for the inhabitants of the other
is fostered always by our Emperors, each of whom fears that friendly
communication between the two cities would result in the overthrow of
one of them."
"And now Castrum Mare is happy and contented under Caesar?" asked Erich.
"That is a question that it might not be safe to answer honestly," said
Lepus, with a shrug.
"If I am going to the palace every day to write the history of Rome for
Validus Augustus and receive from him the story of his reign," said von
Harben, "it might be well if I knew something of the man, otherwise
there is a chance for me to get into serious trouble, which might
conceivably react upon you and Septimus Favonius, whom Caesar has made
responsible for me. If you care to forewarn me, I promise you that I
shall repeat nothing that you may tell me."
Lepus, leaning lightly against the wall by the doorway, played idly
with the hilt of his dagger as he took thought before replying.
Presently he looked up, straight into von Harben's eyes.
"I shall trust you," he said; "first, because there is that in you
which inspires confidence, and, second, because it cannot profit you to
harm either Septimus Favonius or myself. Castrum Mare is not happy with
its Caesar. He is arrogant and cruel--not like the Caesars to which
Castrum Mare has been accustomed.
"The last Emperor was a kindly man, but at the time of his death his
brother, Validus Augustus, was chosen to succeed him because Caesar's
son was, at that time, but a year old.
"This son of the former Emperor, a nephew of Validus Augustus, is
called Cassius Hasta. And because of his popularity he has aroused
the jealousy and hatred of Augustus, who recently sent him away upon
a dangerous mission to the west end of the valley. There are many who
consider it virtual banishment, but Validus Augustus insists that this
is not the fact. No one knows what Cassius Hasta's orders were. He went
secretly by night and was accompanied by only a few slaves.
"It is believed that he has been ordered to enter Castra Sanguinarius
as a spy, and if such is the case his mission amounts practically to
a sentence of death. If this were known for a fact, the people would
rise against Validus Augustus, for Cassius Hasta was the most popular
man in Castrum Mare.
"But enough. I shall not bore you with the sorrows of Castrum Mare.
Take your reading down into the garden where, in the shade of the
trees, it is cooler than here and I shall join you presently."
As von Harben lay stretched upon the sward beneath the shade of a tree
in the cool garden of Septimus Favonius, his mind was not upon the
history of Sanguinarius, nor upon the political woes of Castrum Mare so
much as they were upon plans for escape.
As a scholar, an explorer, and an archaeologist he would delight in
remaining here for such a time as might be necessary for him to make an
exploration of the valley and study the government and customs of its
inhabitants, but to remain cooped up in the vault-like library of the
Emperor of the East writing the history of ancient Rome in Latin with a
reed pen on papyrus rolls in no way appealed to him.
The rustle of fresh linen and the soft fall of sandaled feet upon the
graveled garden walk interrupted his trend of thought and as he looked
up into the face of Favonia, daughter of Septimus Favonius, the history
of ancient Rome together with half-formulated plans for escape were
dissipated from his mind by the girl's sweet smile, as is a morning
mist by the rising sun.
_Chapter Eleven_
As Maximus Praeclarus led Tarzan of the Apes from the home of Dion
Splendidus in the city of Castra Sanguinarius, the soldiers, gathered
by the doorway, voiced their satisfaction in oaths and exclamations.
They liked the young patrician who commanded them and they were proud
that he should have captured the wild barbarian single-handed.
A command from Praeclarus brought silence and at a word from him they
formed around the prisoner, and the march toward the Colosseum was
begun. They had proceeded but a short distance when Praeclarus halted
the detachment and went himself to the doorway of a house fronting
on the avenue through which they were crossing. He halted before the
door, stood in thought for a moment, and then turned back toward his
detachment as though he had changed his mind about entering, and Tarzan
knew that the young officer was indicating to him the home in which he
lived and in which the ape-man might find sanctuary later.
Several hundred yards farther along the street, after they had resumed
the march, Praeclarus halted his detachment beneath the shade of great
trees opposite a drinking fountain, which was built into the outside of
a garden wall close beside an unusually large tree, which overspreading
the avenue upon one side and the wall on the other, intermingled its
branches with those of other trees growing inside the garden beyond.
Praeclarus crossed the avenue and drank at the fountain and returning
inquired by means of signs if Tarzan would drink. The ape-man nodded in
assent and Praeclarus gave orders that he be permitted to cross to the
fountain.
Slowly Tarzan walked to the other side of the avenue. He stooped and
drank from the fountain. Beside him was the bole of a great tree;
above him was the leafy foliage that would conceal him from the sight
and protect him from the missiles of the soldiers. Turning from the
fountain, a quick step took him behind the tree. One of the soldiers
shouted a warning to Praeclarus, and the whole detachment, immediately
suspicious, leaped quickly across the avenue, led by the young
patrician who commanded them, but when they reached the fountain and
the tree their prisoner had vanished.
Shouting their disappointment, they gazed upward into the foliage, but
there was no sign there of the barbarian. Several of the more active
soldiers scrambled into the branches and then Maximus Praeclarus,
pointing in the direction opposite to that in which his home lay,
shouted: "This way, there he goes!" and started on a run down the
avenue, while behind him strung his detachment, their pikes ready in
their hands.
Moving silently through the branches of the great trees that overhung
the greater part of the city of Castra Sanguinarius, Tarzan paralleled
the avenue leading back to the home of Maximus Praeclarus, halting at
last in a tree that over-looked the inner courtyard or walled garden,
which appeared to be a distinguishing feature of the architecture of
the city.
Below him he saw a matronly woman of the patrician class, listening
to a tall black who was addressing her excitedly. Clustered about the
woman and eagerly listening to the words of the speaker were a number
of black slaves, both men and women.
Tarzan recognized the speaker as Mpingu, and, though he could not
understand his words, realized that the black was preparing them for
his arrival in accordance with the instructions given him in the garden
of Dion Splendidus by Maximus Praeclarus, and that he was making a good
story of it was evidenced by his excited gesticulation and the wide
eyes and open mouths of the listening blacks.
The woman, listening attentively and with quiet dignity of mien,
appeared to be slightly amused, but whether at the story itself or at
the unrestrained excitement of Mpingu, Tarzan did not know.
She was a regal-looking woman of about fifty, with graying hair and
with the poise and manner of that perfect self-assurance which is
hallmark of assured position; that she was a patrician to her finger
tips was evident, and yet there was that in her eyes and the little
wrinkles at their corners that bespoke a broad humanity and a kindly
disposition.
Mpingu had evidently reached the point where his vocabulary could
furnish no adequate superlatives wherewith to describe the barbarian
who had rescued his mistress from Fastus, and he was acting out in
exaggerated pantomime the scene in the garden of his mistress, when
Tarzan dropped lightly to the sward beside him. The effect upon the
blacks of this unexpected appearance verged upon the ludicrous, but the
white woman was unmoved to any outward sign of surprise.
"Is this the barbarian?" she asked of Mpingu.
"It is he," replied the black.
"Tell him that I am Festivitas, the mother of Maximus Praeclarus," the
woman directed Mpingu, "and that I welcome him here in the name of my
son."
Through Mpingu, Tarzan acknowledged the greetings of Festivitas and
thanked her for her hospitality, after which she instructed one of her
slaves to conduct the stranger to the apartments that were placed at
his disposal.
It was late afternoon before Maximus Praeclarus returned to his home,
going immediately to Tarzan's apartments. With him was the same black
who had acted as interpreter in the morning.
"I am to remain here with you," said the black to Tarzan, "as your
interpreter and servant."
"I venture to say," said Praeclarus through the interpreter, "that this
is the only spot in Castra Sanguinarius that they have not searched for
you and there are three centuries combing the forests outside the city,
though by this time Sublatus is convinced that you have escaped. We
shall keep you here in hiding for a few days when, I think, I can find
the means to get you out of the city after dark."
The ape-man smiled. "I can leave whenever I choose," he said, "either
by day or by night, but I do not choose to leave until I have satisfied
myself that the man for whom I am searching is not here. But, first,
let me thank you for your kindness to me, the reason for which I cannot
understand."
"That is easily explained," said Praeclarus. "The young woman whom
you saved from attack this morning is Dilecta, the daughter of Dion
Splendidus. She and I are to be married. That, I think, will explain my
gratitude."
"I understand," said Tarzan, "and I am glad that I was fortunate enough
to come upon them at the time that I did."
"Should you be captured again, it will not prove so fortunate for you,"
said Praeclarus, "for the man from whom you saved Dilecta is Fastus,
the son of Sublatus, and now the Emperor will have two indignities to
avenge; but if you remain here you will be safe, for our slaves are
loyal and there is little likelihood that you will be discovered."
"If I remain here," said Tarzan, "and it should be discovered that you
had befriended me, would not the anger of the Emperor fall upon you?"
Maximus Praeclarus shrugged. "I am daily expecting that," he said; "not
because of you, but because the son of the Emperor wishes to marry
Dilecta. Sublatus needs no further excuse to destroy me. I should be no
worse off were he to learn that I have befriended you than I now am."
"Then, perhaps, I may be of service to you if I remain," said Tarzan.
"I do not see how you can do anything but remain," said Praeclarus.
"Every man, woman, and child in Castra Sanguinarius will be on the
lookout for you, for Sublatus has offered a huge reward for your
capture, and besides the inhabitants of the city there are thousands
of black barbarians outside the walls who will lay aside every other
interest to run you down."
"Twice today you have seen how easily I can escape from the soldiers of
Sublatus," said Tarzan, smiling. "Just as easily can I leave the city
and elude the barbarians in the outer villages."
"Then why do you remain?" demanded Praeclarus.
"I came here searching for the son of a friend," replied Tarzan. "Many
weeks ago the young man started out with an expedition to explore
the Wiramwazi Mountains in which your country is located. His people
deserted him upon the outer slopes, and I am convinced that he is
somewhere within the range and very possibly in this canyon. If he is
here and alive, he will unquestionably come sooner or later to your
city where, from the experience that I have gained, I am sure that he
will receive anything but friendly treatment from your Emperor. This
is the reason that I wish to remain somewhere in the vicinity, and now
that you have told me that you are in danger, I may as well remain in
your home where it is possible I may have an opportunity to reciprocate
your kindness to me."
"If the son of your friend is in this end of the valley, he will be
captured and brought to Castra Sanguinarius," said Maximus Praeclarus,
"and when that occurs I shall know of it, since I am detailed to duty
at the Colosseum--a mark of the disfavor of Sublatus, since this is the
most distasteful duty to which an officer can be assigned."
"Is it possible that this man for whom I am searching might be in some
other part of the valley?" asked Tarzan.
"No," replied Praeclarus. "There is only one entrance to the valley,
that through which you were brought, and while there is another city
at the eastern end, he could not reach it without passing through the
forests surrounding Castra Sanguinarius, in which event he would have
been captured by the barbarians and turned over to Sublatus."
"Then I shall remain here," said Tarzan, "for a time."
"You shall be a welcome guest," replied Praeclarus.
For three weeks Tarzan remained in the home of Maximus Praeclarus.
Festivitas conceived a great liking for the bronzed barbarian, and soon
tiring of carrying on conversation with him through an interpreter,
she set about teaching him her own language, with the result that it
was not long before Tarzan could carry on a conversation in Latin;
nor did he lack opportunity to practice his new accomplishment, since
Festivitas never tired of hearing stories of the outer world and of the
manners and customs of modern civilization.
And while Tarzan of the Apes waited in Castra Sanguinarius for word
that von Harben had been seen in the valley, the man he sought was
living the life of a young patrician attached to the court of the
Emperor of the East, and though much of his time was pleasantly
employed in the palace library, yet he chafed at the knowledge that
he was virtually a prisoner and was often formulating plans for
escape--plans that were sometimes forgotten when he sat beneath the
spell of the daughter of Septimus Favonius.
And often in the library he discovered only unadulterated pleasure
in his work, and thoughts of escape were driven from his mind by
discoveries of such gems as original Latin translations of Homer and of
hitherto unknown manuscripts of Vergil, Cicero, and Caesar--manuscripts
that dated from the days of the young republic and on down the
centuries to include one of the early satires of Juvenal.
Thus the days passed, while far off in another world a frightened
little monkey scampered through the upper terraces of a distant forest.
_Chapter Twelve_
A penchant for boasting is not the prerogative of any time, or race,
or individual, but is more or less common to all. So it is not strange
that Mpingu, filled with the importance of the secret that he alone
shared with his mistress and the household of Maximus Praeclarus,
should have occasionally dropped a word here and there that might
impress his listeners with his importance.
Mpingu meant no harm. He was loyal to the house of Dion Splendidus and
he would not willingly have brought harm to his master or his master's
friend, but so it is often with people who talk too much, and Mpingu
certainly had done that. The result was that upon a certain day, as
he was bartering in the market-place for provisions for the kitchen
of Dion Splendidus, he felt a heavy hand laid upon his shoulder and,
turning, he was astonished to find himself looking into the face of a
centurion of the palace guard, behind whom stood a file of legionaries.
"You are Mpingu, the slave of Dion Splendidus?" demanded the centurion.
"I am," replied the black.
"Come with us," commanded the centurion.
Mpingu drew back, afraid, as all men feared the soldiers of Caesar.
"What do you want of me?" he demanded. "I have done nothing."
"Come, barbarian," ordered the soldier. "I was not sent to confer with
you, but to get you!" And he jerked Mpingu roughly toward him and
pushed him back among the soldiers.
A crowd had gathered, as crowds gather always when a man is arrested,
but the centurion ignored the crowd as though it did not exist, and
the people fell aside as the soldiers marched away with Mpingu. No one
questioned or interfered, for who would dare question an officer of
Caesar? Who would interfere in behalf of a black slave?
Mpingu thought that he would be taken to the dungeons beneath the
Colosseum, which was the common jail in which all prisoners were
confined; but presently he realized that his captors were not leading
him in that direction, and when finally it dawned upon him that the
palace was their goal he was filled with terror.
Never before had Mpingu stepped foot within the precincts of the
palace grounds, and when the imperial gate closed behind him he was
in a mental state bordering upon collapse. He had heard stories of
the cruelty of Sublatus, of the terrible vengeance wreaked upon his
enemies, and he had visions that paralyzed his mind so that he was in
a state of semi-consciousness when he was finally led into an inner
chamber where a high dignitary of the court confronted him.
"This," said the centurion, who had brought him, "is Mpingu, the slave
of Dion Splendidus, whom I was commanded to fetch to you."
"Good!" said the official. "You and your detachment may remain while I
question him." Then he turned upon Mpingu. "Do you know the penalties
one incurs for aiding the enemies of Caesar?" he demanded.
Mpingu's lower jaw moved convulsively as though he would reply, but he
was unable to control his voice.
"They die," growled the officer, menacingly. "They die terrible deaths
that they will remember through all eternity."
"I have done nothing," cried Mpingu, suddenly regaining control of his
vocal cords.
"Do not lie to me, barbarian," snapped the official. "You aided in the
escape of the prisoner who called himself Tarzan and even now you are
hiding him from your Emperor."
"I did not help him escape. I am not hiding him," wailed Mpingu.
"You lie. You know where he is. You boasted of it to other slaves. Tell
me where he is."
"I do not know," said Mpingu.
"If your tongue were cut out, you could not tell us where he is," said
the Roman. "If red-hot irons were thrust into your eyes, you could not
see to lead us to his hiding-place; but if we find him without your
help, and we surely shall find him, we shall need neither your tongue
nor your eyes. Do you understand?"
"I do not know where he is," repeated Mpingu.
The Roman turned away and struck a single blow upon a gong, after which
he stood in silence until a slave entered the room in response to the
summons. "Fetch tongs," the Roman instructed the slave, "and a charcoal
brazier with burning-irons. Be quick!"
After the slave had left, silence fell again upon the apartment. The
official was giving Mpingu an opportunity to think, and Mpingu so
occupied the time in thinking that it seemed to him that the slave had
scarcely left the apartment before he returned again with tongs and a
lighted burner, from the glowing heart of which protruded the handle of
a burning-iron.
"Have your soldiers throw him to the floor and hold him," said the
official to the centurion.
It was evident to Mpingu that the end had come; the officer was not
even going to give him another opportunity to speak.
"Wait!" he shrieked.
"Well," said the official, "you are regaining your memory?"
"I am only a slave," wailed Mpingu. "I must do what my masters command."
"And what did they command?" inquired the Roman.
"I was only an interpreter," said Mpingu. "The white barbarian spoke
the language of the Bagegos, who are my people. Through me they talked
to him and he talked to them."
"And what was said?" demanded the inquisitor.
Mpingu hesitated, dropping his eyes to the floor.
"Come, quickly!" snapped the other.
"I have forgotten," said Mpingu.
The official nodded to the centurion. The soldiers seized Mpingu and
threw him roughly to the floor, four of them holding him there, one
seated upon each limb.
"The tongs!" directed the official, and the slave handed the instrument
to the centurion.
"Wait!" screamed Mpingu. "I will tell you."
"Let him up," said the official; and to Mpingu: "This is your last
chance. If you go down again, your tongue comes out and your eyes, too."
"I will talk," said Mpingu. "I did but interpret, that is all. I had
nothing to do with helping him to escape or hiding him."
"If you tell us the truth, you will not be punished," said the Roman.
"Where is the white barbarian?"
"He is hiding in the home of Maximus Praeclarus," said Mpingu.
"What has your master to do with this?" commanded the Roman.
"Dion Splendidus has nothing to do with it," replied Mpingu. "Maximus
Praeclarus planned it."
"That is all," said the official to the centurion. "Take him away and
keep him under guard until you receive further orders. Be sure that he
talks to no one."
A few minutes later the official who had interrogated Mpingu entered
the apartment of Sublatus, while the Emperor was in conversation with
his son Fastus.
"I have located the white barbarian, Sublatus," announced the official.
"Good!" said the Emperor. "Where is he?"
"In the home of Maximus Praeclarus."
"I might have suspected as much," said Fastus.
"Who else is implicated?" asked Sublatus.
"He was caught in the courtyard of Dion Splendidus," said Fastus, "and
the Emperor has heard, as we all have, that Dion Splendidus has long
had eyes upon the imperial purple of the Caesars."
"The slave says that only Maximus Praeclarus is responsible for the
escape of the barbarian," said the official.
"He was one of Dion Splendidus's slaves, was he not?" demanded Fastus.
"Yes."
"Then it is not strange that he would protect his master," said Fastus.
"Arrest them all," commanded Sublatus.
"You mean Dion Splendidus, Maximus Praeclarus, and the barbarian
Tarzan?" asked the official.
"I mean those three and the entire household of Dion Splendidus and
Maximus Praeclarus," replied Sublatus.
"Wait, Caesar," suggested Fastus; "twice already has the barbarian
escaped from the legionaries. If he receives the slightest inkling of
this, he will escape again. I have a plan. Listen!"
An hour later a messenger arrived at the home of Dion Splendidus
carrying an invitation to the senator and his wife to be the guests of
a high court functionary that evening at a banquet. Another messenger
went to the home of Maximus Praeclarus with a letter urging the young
officer to attend an entertainment being given that same evening by a
rich young patrician.
As both invitations had emanated from families high in favor with the
Emperor, they were, in effect, almost equivalent to commands, even
to as influential a senator as Dion Splendidus, and so there was no
question either in the minds of the hosts or in the minds of the guests
but that they would be accepted.
Night had fallen upon Castra Sanguinarius. Dion Splendidus and his
wife were alighting from their litter before the home of their host
and Maximus Praeclarus was already drinking with his fellow guests in
the banquet hall of one of Castra Sanguinarius's wealthiest citizens.
Fastus was there, too, and Maximus Praeclarus was surprised and not a
little puzzled at the friendly attitude of the prince.
"I always suspect something when Fastus smiles at me," he said to an
intimate.
In the home of Dion Splendidus, Dilecta sat among her female slaves,
while one of them told her stories of the wild African village from
which she had come.
Tarzan and Festivitas sat in the home of Maximus Praeclarus, the Roman
matron listening attentively to the stories of savage Africa and
civilized Europe that she was constantly urging her strange guest to
tell her. Faintly they heard a knock at the outer gate and, presently,
a slave came to the apartment where they sat to tell them that Mpingu,
the slave of Dion Splendidus, had come with a message for Tarzan.
"Bring him hither," said Festivitas, and, shortly, Mpingu was ushered
into the room.
If Tarzan or Festivitas had known Mpingu better, they would have
realized that he was under great nervous strain; but they did not know
him well, and so they saw nothing out of the way in his manner or
bearing.
"I have been sent to fetch you to the home of Dion Splendidus," said
Mpingu to Tarzan.
"That is strange," said Festivitas.
"Your noble son stopped at the home of Dion Splendidus on his way to
the banquet this evening and as he left I was summoned and told to come
hither and fetch the stranger to my master's house," explained Mpingu.
"That is all I know about the matter."
"Maximus Praeclarus gave you those instructions himself?" asked
Festivitas.
"Yes," replied Mpingu.
"I do not know what his reason can be," said Festivitas to Tarzan, "but
there must be some very good reason, or he would not run the risk of
your being caught."
"It is very dark out," said Mpingu. "No one will see him."
"There is no danger," said Tarzan to Festivitas. "Maximus Praeclarus
would not have sent for me unless it were necessary. Come, Mpingu!" And
he arose, bidding Festivitas good-by.
Tarzan and Mpingu had proceeded but a short distance down the avenue
when the black motioned the ape-man to the side of the street, where a
small gate was let into a solid wall.
"We are here," said Mpingu.
"This is not the home of Dion Splendidus," said Tarzan, immediately
suspicious.
Mpingu was surprised that this stranger should so well remember the
location of a house that he had visited but once, and that more than
three weeks since, but he did not know the training that had been the
ape-man's through the long years of moving through the trackless jungle
that had trained his every sense and faculty to the finest point of
orientation.
"It is not the main gate," replied Mpingu, quickly, "but Maximus
Praeclarus did not think it safe that you be seen entering the main
gate of the home of Dion Splendidus in the event that, by any chance,
you were observed. This way leads into a lane that might connect with
any one of several homes, and once in it there is little or no chance
of apprehension."
"I see," said Tarzan. "Lead the way."
Mpingu opened the gate and motioned Tarzan in ahead of him, and as the
ape-man passed through into the blackness beyond there fell upon him
what seemed to be a score of men and he was borne down in the same
instant that he realized that he had been betrayed. So rapidly did his
assailants work that it was a matter of seconds only before the ape-man
found shackles upon his wrists, the one thing that he feared and hated
most.
_Chapter Thirteen_
While Erich von Harben wooed Favonia beneath a summer moon in the
garden of Septimus Favonius in the island city of Castrum Mare, a
detachment of the brown legionaries of Sublatus Imperator dragged
Tarzan of the Apes and Mpingu, the black slave of Dion Splendidus, to
the dungeons beneath the Colosseum of Castra Sanguinarius--and far to
the south a little monkey shivered from cold and terror in the topmost
branches of a jungle giant, while Sheeta the panther crept softly
through the black shadows far below.
In the banquet hall of his host, Maximus Praeclarus reclined upon a
sofa far down the board from Fastus, the guest of honor. The prince,
his tongue loosed by frequent drafts of native wine, seemed in
unusually good spirits, radiating self-satisfaction. Several times
he had brought the subject of conversation around to the strange
white barbarian, who had insulted his sire and twice escaped from the
soldiers of Sublatus.
"He would never have escaped from me that day," he boasted, throwing
a sneer in the direction of Maximus Praeclarus, "nor from any other
officer who is loyal to Caesar."
"You had him, Fastus, in the garden of Dion Splendidus," retorted
Praeclarus. "Why did you not hold him?"
Fastus flushed. "I shall hold him this time," he blurted.
"This time?" queried Praeclarus. "He has been captured again?" There
was nothing in either the voice or expression of the young patrician of
more than polite interest, though the words of Fastus had come with all
the unexpected suddenness of lightning out of a clear sky.
"I mean," explained Fastus, in some confusion, "that if he is again
captured I, personally, shall see that he does not escape," but his
words did not allay the apprehensions of Praeclarus.
All through the long dinner Praeclarus was cognizant of a sensation
of foreboding. There was a menace in the air that was apparent in the
veiled hostility of his host and several others who were cronies of
Fastus.
As early as was seemly he made his excuses and departed. Armed slaves
accompanied his litter through the dark avenues of Castra Sanguinarius,
where robbery and murder slunk among the shadows hand in hand with the
criminal element that had been permitted to propagate itself without
restraint; and when at last he came to the doorway at his home and had
alighted from his litter he paused and a frown of perplexity clouded
his face as he saw that the door stood partially ajar, though there
was no slave there to receive him.
The house seemed unusually quiet and lifeless. The night light, which
ordinarily a slave kept burning in the forecourt when a member of the
household was away, was absent. For an instant Praeclarus hesitated
upon the threshold and then, throwing his cloak back from his shoulders
to free his arms, he pushed the door open and stepped within.
* * * * *
In the banquet hall of a high court functionary the guests yawned
behind their hands from boredom, but none dared leave while Caesar
remained, for the Emperor was a guest there that evening. It was late
when an officer brought a message to Sublatus--a message that the
Emperor read with a satisfaction he made no effort to conceal.
"I have received an important message," said Sublatus to his host,
"upon a matter that interests the noble Senator Dion Splendidus and his
wife. It is my wish that you withdraw with the other guests, leaving us
three here alone."
When they had gone he turned to Dion Splendidus. "It has long been
rumored, Splendidus," he remarked, "that you aspire to the purple."
"A false rumor, Sublatus, as you should well know," replied the senator.
"I have reason to believe otherwise," said Sublatus, shortly. "There
cannot be two Caesars, Splendidus, and you well know the penalty for
treason."
"If the Emperor has determined, for personal reasons or for any
reason whatever, to destroy me, argument will avail me nothing," said
Splendidus, haughtily.
"But I have other plans," said Sublatus, "--plans that might be
overturned should I cause your death."
"Yes?" inquired Splendidus, politely.
"Yes," assented Sublatus. "My son wishes to marry your daughter,
Dilecta, and it is also my wish, for thus would the two most powerful
families of Castra Sanguinarius be united and the future of the empire
assured."
"But our daughter, Dilecta, is betrothed to another," said Splendidus.
"To Maximus Praeclarus?" inquired Sublatus.
"Yes," replied the senator.
"Then let me tell you that she shall never wed Maximus Praeclarus,"
said the Emperor.
"Why?" inquired Splendidus.
"Because Maximus Praeclarus is about to die."
"I do not understand," said Splendidus.
"Perhaps when I tell you that the white barbarian, Tarzan, has been
captured, you will understand why Praeclarus is about to die," said
Sublatus, with a sneer.
Dion Splendidus shook his head negatively. "I regret," he said, "that I
do not follow Caesar."
"I think you do, Splendidus," said the Emperor, "but that is neither
here nor there, since it is Caesar's will that there be no breath of
suspicion upon the sire of the next Empress of Castra Sanguinarius.
So permit me to explain what I am sure that you already know. After
the white barbarian escaped from my soldiers he was found by Maximus
Praeclarus in your garden. My son, Fastus, witnessed the capture. One
of your own slaves acted as interpreter between the barbarian and
Maximus, who arranged the barbarian should escape and take refuge in
the home of Maximus. Tonight he was found there and captured, and
Maximus Praeclarus has been placed under arrest. They are both in the
dungeons beneath the Colosseum. It is improbable that these things
should have transpired entirely without your knowledge, but I shall let
it pass if you give your word that Dilecta shall marry Fastus."
"During the entire history of Castra Sanguinarius," said Dion
Splendidus, "it has been our boast that our daughters have been free to
choose their own husbands--not even a Caesar might command a free woman
to marry against her will."
"That is true," replied Sublatus, "and for that very reason I do not
command--I am only advising."
"I cannot answer for my daughter," said Splendidus. "Let the son of
Caesar do his own wooing as becomes the men of Castra Sanguinarius."
Sublatus arose. "I am only advising," but his tone belied his words.
"The noble senator and his wife may retire to their home and give
thought to what Caesar has said. In the course of a few days Fastus
will come for his answer."
* * * * *
By the light of the torch that illuminated the interior of the dungeon
into which he was thrust by his captors, Tarzan saw a white man and
several blacks chained to the walls. Among the blacks was Lukedi,
but when he recognized Tarzan he evinced only the faintest sign of
interest, so greatly had his confinement weighed upon his mind and
altered him.
The ape-man was chained next to the only other white in the dungeon,
and he could not help but notice the keen interest that this prisoner
took in him from the moment that he entered until the soldiers
withdrew, taking the torch with them, leaving the dungeon in darkness.
As had been his custom while he was in the home of Maximus Praeclarus,
Tarzan had worn only his loin-cloth and leopard-skin, with a toga
and sandals out of courtesy for Festivitas when he appeared in her
presence. This evening, when he started out with Mpingu, he had worn
the toga as a disguise, but in the scuffle that preceded his capture
it had been torn from him, with the result that his appearance was
sufficient to arouse the curiosity of his fellow prisoners, and as soon
as the guards were out of hearing the man spoke to him.
"Can it be," he asked, "that you are the white barbarian whose fame has
penetrated even to the gloom and silence of the dungeon?"
"I am Tarzan of the Apes," replied the ape-man.
"And you carried Sublatus out of his palace above your head and mocked
at his soldiers!" exclaimed the other. "By the ashes of my imperial
father, Sublatus will see that you die the death."
Tarzan made no reply.
"They say you run through the trees like a monkey," said the other.
"How then did you permit yourself to be recaptured?"
"It was done by treachery," replied Tarzan, "and the quickness with
which they locked the shackles upon me. Without these," and he shook
the manacles upon his wrists, "they could not hold me. But who are you
and what did you do to get yourself in the dungeons of Caesar?"
"I am in the dungeon of no Caesar," replied the other. "This creature
who sits upon the throne of Castra Sanguinarius is no Caesar."
"Who then is Caesar?" inquired Tarzan.
"Only the Emperors of the East are entitled to be called Caesar,"
replied the other.
"I take it that you are not of Castra Sanguinarius then," suggested the
ape-man.
"No," replied the other, "I am from Castrum Mare."
"And why are you a prisoner?" asked Tarzan.
"Because I am from Castrum Mare," replied the other.
"Is that a crime in Castra Sanguinarius?" asked the ape-man.
"We are always enemies," replied the other. "We trade occasionally
under a flag of truce, for we have things that they want and they have
things that we must have, but there is much raiding and often there are
wars, and then whichever side is victorious takes the things by force
that otherwise they would be compelled to pay for."
"In this small valley what is there that one of you may have that the
other one has not already?" asked the ape-man.
"We of Castrum Mare have the iron mines," replied the other, "and we
have the papyrus swamps and the lake, which give us many things that
the people of Castra Sanguinarius can obtain only from us. We sell them
iron and paper, ink, snails, fish, and jewels, and many manufactured
articles. In their end of the valley they mine gold, and as they
control the only entrance to the country from the outside world, we are
forced to obtain our slaves through them as well as new breeding-stock
for our herds.
"As the Sanguinarians are naturally thieves and raiders and are too
lazy to work and too ignorant to teach their slaves how to produce
things, they depend entirely upon their gold mine and their raiding and
trading with the outer world, while we, who have developed many skilled
artisans, have been in a position for many generations that permitted
us to obtain much more gold and many more slaves than we need in
return for our manufactured articles. Today we are much richer than the
Sanguinarians. We live better. We are more cultured. We are happier and
the Sanguinarians are jealous and their hatred of us has increased."
"Knowing these things," asked Tarzan, "how is it that you came to the
country of your enemies and permitted yourself to be captured?"
"I was delivered over treacherously into the hands of Sublatus by my
uncle, Validus Augustus, Emperor of the East," replied the other.
"My name is Cassius Hasta, and my father was Emperor before Validus.
Validus is afraid that I may wish to seize the purple, and for this
reason he plotted to get rid of me without assuming any responsibility
for the act; so he conceived the idea of sending me upon a military
mission, after bribing one of the servants who accompanied me to
deliver me into the hands of Sublatus."
"What will Sublatus do with you?" asked Tarzan.
"The same thing that he will do with you," replied Cassius Hasta. "We
shall be exhibited in the triumph of Sublatus, which he holds annually,
and then in the arena we shall amuse them until we are slain."
"And when does this take place?" asked Tarzan.
"It will not be long now," replied Cassius Hasta. "Already they have
collected so many black prisoners to exhibit in the triumph and to take
part in the combats in the arena that they are forced to confine blacks
and whites in the same dungeons, a thing they do not ordinarily do."
"Are these blacks held here for this purpose?" asked the ape-man.
"Yes," replied the other.
Tarzan turned in the direction of Lukedi, whom he could not see in the
darkness. "Lukedi!" he called.
"What is it?" asked the black, listlessly.
"You are well?" asked Tarzan.
"I am going to die," replied Lukedi. "They will feed me to lions or
burn me upon a cross or make me fight with other warriors, so that
it will be all the same for Lukedi. It was a sad day when Nyuto, the
chief, captured Tarzan."
"Are all these blacks from your village?" asked Tarzan.
"No," replied Lukedi. "Most of them are from the villages outside the
walls of Castra Sanguinarius."
"Yesterday they called us their own people," spoke up a black, who
understood the language of the Bagego, "and tomorrow they make us kill
one another to entertain Caesar."
"You must be very few in numbers or very poor in spirit," said Tarzan,
"that you submit to such treatment."
"We number nearly twice as many as the people in the city," said the
black, "and we are brave warriors."
"Then you are fools," said Tarzan.
"We shall not be fools forever. Already there are many who would rise
against Sublatus and the whites of Castra Sanguinarius."
"The blacks of the city as well as the blacks of the outer villages
hate Caesar," said Mpingu, who had been brought to the dungeon with
Tarzan.
The statements of the blacks furnished food for thought to Tarzan. He
knew that in the city there must be hundreds and perhaps thousands of
black slaves and many thousands of blacks in the outer villages. If a
leader should arise among them, the tyranny of Caesar might be brought
to an abrupt end. He spoke of the matter to Cassius Hasta, but the
patrician assured him that no such leader would ever arise.
"We have dominated them for so many centuries," he explained, "that
fear of us is an inherited instinct. Our blacks will never rise against
their masters."
"But if they did?" asked Tarzan.
"Unless they had a white leader they could not succeed," replied Hasta.
"And why not a white leader then?" asked Tarzan.
"That is unthinkable," replied Hasta.
Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of a detachment of
soldiers, and as they halted before the entrance to the dungeon and
threw open the gate Tarzan saw, in the light of their torches, that
they were bringing another prisoner. As they dragged the man in, he
recognized Maximus Praeclarus. He saw that Praeclarus recognized him,
but as the Roman did not address him, Tarzan kept silent, too. The
soldiers chained Praeclarus to the wall, and after they had left and
the dungeon was in darkness again, the young officer spoke.
"I see now why I am here," said Praeclarus, "but even when they set
upon me and arrested me in the vestibule of my home, I had guessed as
much, after piecing together the insinuations of Fastus at the banquet
this evening."
"I have been fearful that by befriending me you would bring disaster
upon yourself," said Tarzan.
"Do not reproach yourself," said Praeclarus. "Fastus of Sublatus would
have found another excuse. I have been doomed from the moment that the
attention of Fastus fixed itself upon Dilecta. To attain his end it was
necessary that I be destroyed. That is all, my friend, but yet I wonder
who it could have been that betrayed me."
"It was I," said a voice out of the darkness. "Who is that that
speaks?" demanded Praeclarus.
"It is Mpingu," said Tarzan. "He was arrested with me when we were on
the way to the home of Dion Splendidus to meet you."
"To meet me!" exclaimed Praeclarus.
"I lied," said Mpingu, "but they made me."
"Who made you?" demanded Praeclarus.
"The officers of Caesar and Caesar's son," replied Mpingu. "They
dragged me to the palace of the Emperor and held me down upon my back
and brought tongs to tear out my tongue and hot irons to burn out my
eyes. Oh, master, what else could I do? I am only a poor slave and I
was afraid and Caesar is very terrible."
"I understand," said Praeclarus. "I do not blame you, Mpingu."
"They promised to give me my liberty," said the black, "but instead
they have chained me in this dungeon. Doubtless I shall die in the
arena, but that I do not fear. It was the tongs and the red-hot irons
that made me a coward. Nothing else could have forced me to betray the
friend of my master."
There was little comfort upon the cold, hard stones of the dungeon
floor, but Tarzan, inured to hardship from birth, slept soundly until
the coming of the jailer with food awakened him several hours after
sunrise. Water and coarse bread were doled out to the inmates of the
dungeon by slaves in charge of a surly half-caste in the uniform of a
legionary.
As he ate, Tarzan surveyed his fellow prisoners. There was Cassius
Hasta of Castrum Mare, son of a Caesar, and Maximus Praeclarus, a
patrician of Castra Sanguinarius and captain of legionaries. These,
with himself were the only whites. There was Lukedi, the Bagego who had
befriended him in the village of Nyuto, and Mpingu, the black slave of
Dion Splendidus, who had betrayed him, and now, in the light from the
little barred window, he recognized also another Bagego--Ogonyo, who
still cast fearful eyes upon Tarzan as one might upon any person who
was on familiar terms with the ghost of one's grandfather.
In addition to these three blacks, there were were five strapping
warriors from the outer villages of Castra Sanguinarius, picked men
chosen because of their superb physiques for the gladiatorial contests
that would form so important a part of the games that would shortly
take place in the arena for the glorification of Caesar and the
edification of the masses. The small room was so crowded that there was
barely space upon the floor for the eleven to stretch their bodies, yet
there was one vacant ring in the stone wall, indicating that the full
capacity of the dungeon had not been reached.
Two days and nights dragged slowly by. The inmates of the cell amused
themselves as best they could, though the blacks were too downcast to
take a lively interest in anything other than their own sad forbodings.
Tarzan talked much with these and especially with the five warriors
from the outer villages. From long experience with them he knew the
minds and the hearts of black men, and it was not difficult for him to
win their confidence and, presently, he was able to instill within them
something of his own courageous self-reliance, which could never accept
or admit absolute defeat.
He talked with Praeclarus about Castra Sanguinarius and with Cassius
Hasta about Castrum Mare. He learned all that they could tell him about
the forthcoming triumph and games; about the military methods of their
people, their laws and their customs until he, who all his life had
been accounted taciturn, might easily have been indicted for loquacity
by his fellow prisoners, yet, though they might not realize it, he
asked them nothing without a well-defined purpose.
Upon the third day of his incarceration another prisoner was brought to
the crowded cell in which Tarzan was chained. He was a young white man
in the tunic and cuirass of an officer. He was received in silence by
the other prisoners, as seemed to be the custom among them, but after
he had been fastened to the remaining ring and the soldiers who had
brought him had departed, Cassius Hasta greeted him with suppressed
excitement.
"Caecilius Metellus!" he exclaimed.
The other turned in the direction of Hasta's voice, his eyes not yet
accustomed to the gloom of the dungeon.
"Hasta!" he exclaimed. "I would know that voice were I to hear it
rising from the blackest depths of Tartarus."
"What ill fortune brought you here?" demanded Hasta.
"It is no ill fortune that unites me with my best friend," replied
Metellus.
"But tell me how it happened," insisted Cassius Hasta.
"Many things have happened since you left Castrum Mare," replied
Metellus. "Fulvus Fupus has wormed his way into the favor of the
Emperor to such an extent that all of your former friends are under
suspicion and in actual danger. Mallius Lepus is in prison. Septimus
Favonius is out of favor with the Emperor and would be in prison
himself were it not that Fupus is in love with Favonia, his daughter.
But the most outrageous news that I have to communicate to you is that
Validus Augustus has adopted Fulvus Fupus and has named him as his
successor to the imperial purple."
"Fupus a Caesar!" cried Hasta, in derision. "And sweet Favonia? It
cannot be that she favors Fulvus Fupus?"
"No," replied Metellus, "and that fact lies at the bottom of all the
trouble. She loves another, and Fupus, in his desire to possess her,
has utilized the Emperor's jealousy of you to destroy every obstacle
that stands in his way."
"And whom does Favonia love?" asked Cassius Hasta. "It cannot be
Mallius Lepus, her cousin?"
"No," replied Metellus, "it is a stranger. One whom you have never
known."
"How can that be?" demanded Cassius Hasta. "Do I not know every
patrician in Castrum Mare?"
"He is not of Castrum Mare."
"Not a Sanguinarian?" demanded Cassius Hasta.
"No, he is a barbarian chieftain from Germania."
"What nonsense is this?" demanded Hasta.
"I speak the truth," replied Metellus. "He came shortly after you
departed from Castrum Mare, and being a scholar well versed in the
history of ancient and modern Rome he won the favor of Validus
Augustus, but he brought ruin upon himself and upon Mallius Lepus and
upon Septimus Favonius by winning the love of Favonia and with it the
jealous hatred of Fulvus Fupus."
"What is his name?" asked Cassius Hasta.
"He calls himself Erich von Harben," replied Metellus.
"Erich von Harben," repeated Tarzan. "I know him. Where is he now? Is
he safe?"
Caecilius Metellus turned his eyes in the direction of the ape-man.
"How do you know Erich von Harben, Sanguinarian?" he demanded. "Perhaps
then the story that Fulvus Fupus told Validus Augustus is true--that
this Erich von Harben is in reality a spy from Castra Sanguinarius."
"No," said Maximus Praeclarus. "Do not excite yourself. This Erich von
Harben has never been in Castra Sanguinarius, and my friend here is not
himself a Sanguinarian. He is a white barbarian from the outer world,
and if his story be true, and I have no reason to doubt it, he came
here in search of this Erich von Harben."
"You may believe this story, Metellus," said Cassius Hasta. "These both
are honorable men and since we have been in prison together we have
become good friends. What they tell you is the truth."
"Tell me something of von Harben," insisted Tarzan. "Where is he now
and is he in danger from the machinations of this Fulvus Fupus?"
"He is in prison with Mallius Lepus in Castrum Mare," replied Metellus,
"and if he survives the games, which he will not, Fupus will find some
other means to destroy him."
"When are the games held?" asked Tarzan.
"They start upon the ides of August," replied Cassius Hasta.
"And it is now about the nones of August," said Tarzan.
"Tomorrow," corrected Praeclarus.
"We shall know it then," said Cassius Hasta, "for that is the date set
for the triumph of Sublatus."
"I am told that the games last about a week," said Tarzan. "How far is
it to Castrum Mare?"
"Perhaps an eight hours' march for fresh troops," said Caecilius
Metellus; "but why do you ask? Are you planning on making a trip to
Castrum Mare?"
Tarzan noted the other's smile and the ironic tone of his voice. "I am
going to Castrum Mare," he said.
"Perhaps you will take us with you," laughed Metellus.
"Are you a friend of von Harben?" asked Tarzan.
"I am a friend of his friends and an enemy of his enemies, but I do not
know him well enough to say that he is my friend."
"But you have no love for Validus Augustus, the Emperor?" asked Tarzan.
"No," replied the other.
"And I take it that Cassius Hasta has no reason to love his uncle,
either?" continued Tarzan.
"You are right," said Hasta.
"Perhaps I shall take you both, then," said Tarzan.
The two men laughed.
"We shall be ready to go with you when you are ready to take us," said
Cassius Hasta.
"You may count me in on the party, too," said Maximus Praeclarus, "if
Cassius Hasta will remain my friend in Castrum Mare."
"That I promise, Maximus Praeclarus," said Cassius Hasta.
"When do we leave?" demanded Metellus, shaking his chain.
"I can leave the moment that these shackles are struck from me," said
the ape-man, "and that they must do when they turn me into the arena to
fight."
"There will be many legionaries to see that you do not escape, you may
rest assured of that," Cassius Hasta reminded him.
"Maximus Praeclarus will tell you that I have twice escaped from the
legionaries of Sublatus," said Tarzan.
"That he has," declared Praeclarus. "Surrounded by the Emperor's guard,
he escaped from the very throne-room of Sublatus and he carried Caesar
above his head through the length of the palace and out into the avenue
beyond."
"But if I am to take you with me, it will be more difficult," said the
ape-man, "and I would take you because it would please me to frustrate
the plans of Sublatus and also because two of you, at least, could be
helpful to me in finding Erich von Harben in the city of Castrum Mare."
"You interest me," said Cassius Hasta. "You almost make me believe that
you can accomplish this mad scheme."
_Chapter Fourteen_
A great sun, rising into a cloudless sky, ushered in the nones of
August. It looked down upon the fresh-raked sands of the deserted
arena; upon the crowds that lined the Via Principalis that bisected
Castra Sanguinarius.
Brown artisans and tradesmen in their smart tunics jostled one another
for places of vantage along the shady avenue. Among them moved black
barbarians from the outer villages, sporting their finest feathers and
most valued ornaments and skins, and mingling with the others were the
slaves of the city, all eagerly waiting for the pageant that would
inaugurate the triumph of Sublatus.
Upon the low rooftops of their homes the patricians reclined upon rugs
at every point where the avenue might be seen between or beneath the
branches of trees. All Castra Sanguinarius was there, technically to
honor Caesar, but actually merely to be entertained.
The air buzzed with talk and laughter; hawkers of sweetmeats and
trinkets elbowed through the crowd crying their wares; legionaries
posted at intervals the full distance from the palace to the Colosseum
kept the center of the avenue clear.
Since the evening of the preceding day the throng had been gathering.
During the cold night they had huddled with close-drawn cloaks. There
had been talk and laughter and brawls and near-riots, and many would-be
spectators had been haled off to the dungeons where their exuberance
might be permitted to cool against cold stone.
As the morning dragged on the crowd became restless. At first, as some
patrician who was to have a part in the pageant passed in his ornate
litter he would be viewed in respectful and interested silence, or
if he were well known and favorably thought of by the multitude he
might be greeted with cheers; but with the passing of time and the
increasing heat of the day each occasional litter that passed elicited
deep-throated groans or raucous catcalls as the patience and the temper
of the mob became thinner.
But presently from afar, in the direction of the palace, sounded the
martial notes of trumpets. The people forgot their fatigue and their
discomfort as the shrill notes galvanized them into joyous expectancy.
Slowly along the avenue came the pageant, led by a score of trumpeters,
behind whom marched a maniple of the imperial guard. Waving crests
surmounted their burnished helmets, the metal of two hundred cuirasses,
pikes, and shields shot back the sunlight that filtered through the
trees beneath which they marched. They made a proud showing as they
strode haughtily between the lines of admiring eyes, led by their
patrician officers in gold and embossed leather and embroidered linen.
As the legionaries passed, a great shout of applause arose. A roar of
human voices that started at the palace rolled slowly along the Via
Principalis toward the Colosseum as Caesar himself, resplendent in
purple and gold, rode alone in a chariot drawn by lions led on golden
leashes by huge blacks.
Caesar may have expected for himself the plaudits of the populace, but
there was a question as to whether these were elicited as much by the
presence of the Emperor as by the sight of the captives chained to
Caesar's chariot, for Caesar was an old story to the people of Castra
Sanguinarius, while the prisoners were a novelty and, furthermore,
something that promised rare sport in the arena.
Never before in the memory of the citizens of Castra Sanguinarius had
an Emperor exhibited such noteworthy captives in his triumph. There was
Nyuto, the black chief of the Bagegos. There was Caecilius Metellus, a
centurion of the legions of the Emperor of the East; and Cassius Hasta,
the nephew of that Emperor; but perhaps he who aroused their greatest
enthusiasm because of the mad stories that had been narrated of his
feats of strength and agility was the great white barbarian, with a
shock of black hair and his well-worn leopard-skin.
The collar of gold and the golden chain that held him in leash to the
chariot of Caesar, curiously enough, imparted to his appearance no
suggestion of fear or humiliation. He walked proudly with head erect--a
lion tethered to lions--and there was that in the easy sinuosity of
his stride that accentuated his likeness to the jungle beasts that
drew the chariot of Caesar along the broad Via Principalis of Castra
Sanguinarius.
As the pageant moved its length slowly to the Colosseum the crowd found
other things to hold their interest. There were the Bagego captives
chained neck to neck and stalwart gladiators resplendent in new armor.
White men and brown men were numbered among these and many black
warriors from the outer villages.
To the number of two hundred they marched--captives, condemned
criminals, and professional gladiators--but before them and behind them
and on either side marched veteran legionaries whose presence spoke in
no uncertain terms of the respect in which Caesar held the potential
power of these bitter, savage fighting men.
There were floats depicting historic events in the history of Castra
Sanguinarius and ancient Rome. There were litters bearing the high
officers of the court and the senators of the city, while bringing up
the rear were the captured flocks and herds of the Bagegos.
That Sublatus failed to exhibit Maximus Praeclarus in his Triumph
evidenced the popularity of this noble young Roman, but Dilecta,
watching the procession from the roof of her father's house, was filled
with anxiety when she noted the absence of her lover, for she knew that
sometimes men who entered the dungeons of Caesar were never heard of
more--but there was none who could tell her whether Maximus Praeclarus
lived or not, and so with her mother she made her way to the Colosseum
to witness the opening of the games. Her heart was heavy lest she
should see Maximus Praeclarus entered there, and his blood upon the
white sand, yet, also, she feared that she might not see him and thus
be faced by the almost definite assurance that he had been secretly
done to death by the agents of Fastus.
A great multitude had gathered in the Colosseum to witness the entry
of Caesar and the pageant of his triumph, and the majority of these
remained in their seats for the opening of the games, which commenced
early in the afternoon. It was not until then that the sections
reserved for the patricians began to fill.
The loge reserved for Dion Splendidus, the senator, was close to that
of Caesar. It afforded an excellent view of the arena and with cushions
and rugs was so furnished as to afford the maximum comfort to those who
occupied it.
Never had a Caesar essayed so pretentious a fête; entertainment of
the rarest description was vouchsafed each lucky spectator, yet never
before in her life had Dilecta loathed and dreaded any occurrence as
she now loathed and dreaded the games that were about to open.
Always heretofore her interest in the contestants had been impersonal.
Professional gladiators were not of the class to come within the ken or
acquaintance of the daughter of a patrician. The black warriors and
slaves were to her of no greater importance than the beasts against
which they sometimes contended, while the condemned criminals, many
of whom expiated their sins within the arena, aroused within her
heart only the remotest suggestion of sympathy. She was a sweet and
lovely girl, whose sensibilities would doubtless have been shocked by
the brutality of the prize-ring or a varsity football game, but she
could look upon the bloody cruelties of a Roman arena without a qualm,
because by custom and heredity they had become a part of the national
life of her people.
But today she trembled. She saw the games as a personal menace to her
own happiness and the life of one she loved, yet by no outward sign did
she divulge her perturbation. Calm, serene, and entirely beautiful,
Dilecta, the daughter of Dion Splendidus, awaited the signal for the
opening of the games that was marked by the arrival of Caesar.
Sublatus came, and after he had taken his seat there emerged from
one of the barred gates at the far end of the arena the head of a
procession, again led by trumpeters, who were followed by those who
were to take part in the games during the week. It consisted for the
most part of the same captives who had been exhibited in the pageant,
to which were added a number of wild beasts, some of which were led
or dragged along by black slaves, while others, more powerful and
ferocious, were drawn in wheeled cages. These consisted principally of
lions and leopards, but there were also a couple of bull buffaloes and
several cages in which were confined huge man-like apes.
The participants were formed in a solid phalanx facing Sublatus, where
they were addressed by the Emperor, freedom and reward being promised
the victors; and then, sullen and lowering, they were herded back to
their dungeons and cages.
Dilecta's eyes scanned the faces of the contestants as they stood in
solid rank before the loge of Caesar, but nowhere among them could
she discover Maximus Praeclarus. Breathless and tense, with fearful
apprehension, she leaned forward in her seat across the top of the
arena wall as a man entered the loge from behind and sat upon the bench
beside her.
"He is not there," said the man.
The girl turned quickly toward the speaker. "Fastus!" she exclaimed.
"How do you know that he is not there?"
"It is by my order," replied the prince.
"He is dead," cried Dilecta. "You have had him killed."
"No," denied Fastus, "he is safe in his cell."
"What is to become of him?" asked the girl.
"His fate lies in your hands," replied Fastus. "Give him up and promise
to become the wife of Fastus and I will see that he is not forced to
appear in the arena."
"He would not have it so," said the girl.
Fastus shrugged. "As you will," he said, "but remember that his life is
in your hands."
"With sword, or dagger, or pike he has no equal," said the girl,
proudly. "If he were entered in the contest, he would be victorious."
"Caesar has been known to pit unarmed men against lions," Fastus
reminded her, tauntingly. "Of what avail then is prowess with any
weapon?"
"That would be murder," said Dilecta.
"A harsh term to apply to an act of Caesar," returned Fastus,
menacingly.
"I speak my mind," said the girl; "Caesar or no Caesar. It would be a
cowardly and contemptible act, but I doubt not that either Caesar or
his son is capable of even worse." Her voice trembled with scathing
contempt.
With a crooked smile upon his lips, Fastus arose. "It is not a matter
to be determined without thought," he said, "and your answer concerns
not Maximus Praeclarus alone, nor you, nor me."
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"There are Dion Splendidus and your mother, and Festivitas, the mother
of Praeclarus!" And with this warning he turned and left the loge.
The games progressed amid the din of trumpets, the crash of arms,
the growling of beasts, and the murmuring of the great audience that
sometimes rose to wild acclaim or deep-throated, menacing disapproval.
Beneath fluttering banners and waving scarfs the cruel, terrible
thousand-eyed thing that is a crowd looked down upon the blood and
suffering of its fellow men, munching sweetmeats while a victim died
and cracking coarse jokes as slaves dragged the body from the arena and
raked clean sand over crimsoned spots.
Sublatus had worked long and carefully with the praefect in charge of
the games that the resultant program might afford the greatest possible
entertainment for Caesar and the populace, thus winning for the Emperor
a certain popularity that his own personality did not command.
Always the most popular events were those in which men of the patrician
class participated, and so he counted much upon Cassius Hasta and
Caecilius Metellus, but of even greater value for his purpose was the
giant white barbarian, who already had captured the imagination of the
people because of his exploits.
Wishing to utilize Tarzan in as many events as possible, Sublatus knew
that it would be necessary to reserve the more dangerous ones for the
latter part of the week, and so upon the first afternoon of the games
Tarzan found himself thrust into the arena, unarmed, in company with a
burly murderer, whom the master of the games had clothed in loin-cloth
and leopard-skin similar to Tarzan.
A guard escorted them across the arena and halted them in the sand
below the Emperor, where the master of the games announced that these
two would fight with bare hands in any way that they saw fit and that
he who remained alive or alone in the arena at the end of the combat
would be considered victorious.
"The gate to the dungeons will be left open," he said, "and if either
contestant gets enough he may quit the arena, but whoever does so
forfeits the contest to the other."
The crowds booed. It was not to see such tame exhibitions as this that
they had come to the Colosseum. They wanted blood. They wanted thrills,
but they waited, for perhaps this contest might afford comedy--that
they enjoyed, too. If one greatly outclassed the other, it would be
amusing to see the weaker seek escape. They cheered Tarzan and they
cheered the low-browed murderer. They shouted insults at the noble
patrician who was master of the games, for they knew the safety and
irresponsibility of numbers.
As the word was given the contestants to engage one another, Tarzan
turned to face the low-browed, hulking brute against whom he had been
pitted and he saw that some one had been at pains to select a worthy
antagonist for him. The man was somewhat shorter than Tarzan, but
great, hard muscles bulged beneath his brown hide, bulking so thick
across his back and shoulders as almost to suggest deformity. His long
arms hung almost to his knees, and his thick, gnarled legs suggested a
man of bronze upon a pedestal of granite. The fellow circled Tarzan,
looking for an opening. He scowled ferociously as though to frighten
his adversary.
"There is the gate, barbarian," he cried in a low voice, pointing to
the far end of the arena. "Escape while you are yet alive."
The crowd roared in approbation. It enjoyed glorious sallies such as
these. "I shall tear you limb from limb," shouted the murderer, and
again the crowd applauded.
"I am here," said Tarzan, calmly.
"Flee!" screamed the murderer, and lowering his head he charged like an
angry bull.
The ape-man sprang into the air and came down upon his antagonist, and
what happened happened so quickly that no one there, other than Tarzan,
knew how it had been accomplished; only he knew that he clamped a
reverse headlock upon the murderer.
What the crowd saw was the hulking figure hurtling to a hard fall. They
saw him lying half-stunned upon the sand, while the giant barbarian
stood with folded arms looking down upon him.
The fickle crowd rose from its benches, shrieking with delight.
"_Habet! Habet!_" they cried, and thousands of closed fists were
outstretched with the thumbs pointing downward, but Tarzan only stood
there waiting, as the murderer, shaking his head to clear his brain,
crawled slowly to his feet.
The fellow looked about him half-bewildered and then his eyes found
Tarzan and with a growl of rage he charged again. Again the terrible
hold was clamped upon him, and again he was hurled heavily to the floor
of the arena.
The crowd screamed with delight. Every thumb in the Colosseum was
pointed downward. They wanted Tarzan to kill his adversary. The ape-man
looked up into Caesar's loge, where sat the master of the games with
Sublatus.
"Is not this enough?" he demanded, pointing at the prostrate figure of
the stunned gladiator.
The praefect waved a hand in an all-including gesture which took in the
audience. "They demand his death," he said. "While he remains alive in
the arena, you are not the victor."
"Does Caesar require that I kill this defenseless man?" demanded
Tarzan, looking straight into the face of Sublatus.
"You have heard the noble praefect," replied the Emperor, haughtily.
"Good," said Tarzan. "The rules of the contest shall be fulfilled." He
stooped and seized the unconscious form of his antagonist and raised it
above his head. "Thus I carried your Emperor from his throne-room to
the avenue!" he shouted to the audience.
Screams of delight measured the appreciation of the populace, while
Caesar went white and red in anger and mortification. He half rose from
his seat, but what he contemplated was never fulfilled, for at that
instant Tarzan swung the body of the murderer downward and back like a
huge pendulum and then upward with a mighty surge, hurling it over the
arena wall, full into the loge of Sublatus, where it struck Caesar,
knocking him to the floor.
"I am alive and alone in the arena," shouted Tarzan, turning to the
people, "and by the terms of the contest I am victor," and not even
Caesar dared question the decision that was voiced by the shrieking,
screaming, applauding multitude.
_Chapter Fifteen_
Bloody days followed restless nights in comfortless cells, where lice
and rats joined forces to banish rest. When the games began there had
been twelve inmates in the cell occupied by Tarzan, but now three empty
rings dangled against the stone wall, and each day they wondered whose
turn was next.
The others did not reproach Tarzan because of his failure to free them,
since they had never taken his optimism seriously. They could not
conceive of contestants escaping from the arena during the games. It
simply was not done and that was all that there was to it. It never had
been done, and it never would be.
"We know you meant well," said Praeclarus, "but we knew better than
you."
"The conditions have not been right, as yet," said Tarzan, "but if what
I have been told of the games is true, the time will come."
"What time could be propitious," asked Hasta, "while more than half of
Caesar's legionaries packed the Colosseum?"
"There should be a time," Tarzan reminded him, "when all the victorious
contestants are in the arena together. Then we shall rush Caesar's loge
and drag him into the arena. With Sublatus as a hostage we may demand a
hearing and get it. I venture to say that they will give us our liberty
in return for Caesar."
"But how can we enter Caesar's loge?" demanded Metellus.
"In an instant we may form steps with living men stooping, while others
step upon their backs as soldiers scale a wall. Perhaps some of us will
be killed, but enough will succeed to seize Caesar and drag him to the
sands."
"I wish you luck," said Praeclarus, "and, by Jupiter, I believe that
you will succeed. I only wish that I might be with you."
"You will not accompany us?" demanded Tarzan.
"How can I? I shall be locked in this cell. Is it not evident that
they do not intend to enter me in the contests? They are reserving for
me some other fate. The jailer has told me that my name appears in no
event."
"But we must find a way to take you with us," said Tarzan.
"There is no way," said Praeclarus, shaking his head, sadly.
"Wait," said Tarzan. "You commanded the Colosseum guards, did you not?"
"Yes," replied Praeclarus.
"And you had the keys to the cells?" asked the ape-man.
"Yes," replied Praeclarus, "and to the manacles as well."
"Where are they?" asked Tarzan. "But no, that will not do. They must
have taken them from you when they arrested you."
"No, they did not," said Praeclarus. "As a matter of fact, I did not
have them with me when I dressed for the banquet that night. I left
them in my room."
"But perhaps they sent for them?"
"Yes, they sent for them, but they did not find them. The jailer asked
me about them the day after I was arrested, but I told him that the
soldiers took them from me. I told him that because I had hidden them
in a secret place where I keep many valuables. I knew that if I had
told them where they were they would take not only the keys, but my
valuables as well."
"Good!" exclaimed the ape-man. "With the keys our problem is solved."
"But how are you going to get them?" demanded Praeclarus, with a rueful
smile.
"I do not know," said Tarzan. "All I know is that we must have the
keys."
"We know, too, that we should have our liberty," said Hasta, "but
knowing it does not make us free."
Their conversation was interrupted by the approach of soldiers along
the corridor. Presently a detachment of the palace guard halted outside
their cell. The jailer unlocked the door and a man entered with two
torch-bearers behind him. It was Fastus.
He looked around the cell. "Where is Praeclarus?" he demanded, and
then, "Ah, there you are!"
Praeclarus did not reply.
"Stand up, slave!" ordered Fastus, arrogantly. "Stand up, all of you.
How dare you sit in the presence of a Caesar!" he exclaimed.
"Swine is a better title for such as you," taunted Praeclarus.
"Drag them up! Beat them with your pikes!" cried Fastus to the soldiers
outside the doorway.
The commander of the Colosseum guard, who stood just behind Fastus,
blocked the doorway. "Stand back," he said to the legionaries. "No one
gives orders here except Caesar and myself, and you are not Caesar yet,
Fastus."
"I shall be one day," snapped the prince, "and it will be a sad day for
you."
"It will be a sad day for all Castra Sanguinarius," replied the
officer. "You said that you wished to speak to Praeclarus? Say what you
have to say and be gone. Not even Caesar's son may interfere with my
charges."
Fastus trembled with anger, but he knew that he was powerless. The
commander of the guard spoke with the authority of the Emperor, whom he
represented. He turned upon Praeclarus.
"I came to invite my good friend, Maximus Praeclarus, to my wedding,"
he announced, with a sneer. He waited, but Praeclarus made no reply.
"You do not seem duly impressed, Praeclarus," continued the prince.
"You do not ask who is to be the happy bride. Do you not wish to know
who will be the next Empress in Castra Sanguinarius, even though you
may not live to see her upon the throne beside Caesar?"
The heart of Maximus Praeclarus stood still, for now he knew why Fastus
had come to the dungeon cell, but he gave no sign of what was passing
within his breast, but remained seated in silence upon the hard floor,
his back against the cold wall.
"You do not ask me whom I am to wed, nor when," continued Fastus, "but
I shall tell you. You should be interested. Dilecta, the daughter
of Dion Splendidus, will have none of a traitor and a felon. She
aspires to share the purple with a Caesar. In the evening following
the last day of the games Dilecta and Fastus are to be married in the
throne-room of the palace."
Gloating, Fastus waited to know the result of his announcement, but
if he had looked to surprise Maximus Praeclarus into an exhibition of
chagrin he failed, for the young patrician ignored him so completely
that Fastus might not have been in the cell at all for all the
attention that the other paid to him.
Maximus Praeclarus turned and spoke casually to Metellus and the quiet
affront aroused the mounting anger of Fastus to such an extent that he
lost what little control he had of himself. Stepping quickly forward,
he stooped and slapped Praeclarus in the face and then spat upon him,
but in doing so he had come too close to Tarzan and the ape-man reached
out and seized him by the ankle, dragging him to the floor.
Fastus screamed a command to his soldiers. He sought to draw his dagger
or his sword, but Tarzan took them from him and hurled the prince into
the arms of the legionaries, who had rushed past the commander of the
Colosseum guard and entered the cell.
"Get out now, Fastus," said the latter. "You have caused enough trouble
here already."
"I shall get you for this," hissed the prince, "all of you," and he
swept the inmates of the cell with an angry, menacing glance.
Long after they had gone, Cassius Hasta continued to chuckle. "Caesar!"
he exclaimed. "Swine!"
As the prisoners discussed the discomfiture of Fastus and sought to
prophesy what might come of it, they saw a wavering light reflected
from afar in the corridor before their cell.
"We are to have more guests," said Metellus.
"Perhaps Fastus is returning to spit on Tarzan," suggested Cassius
Hasta, and they all laughed.
The light was advancing along the corridor, but it was not accompanied
by the tramp of soldiers' feet.
"Whoever comes comes silently and alone," said Maximus Praeclarus.
"Then it is not Fastus," said Hasta.
"But it might be an assassin sent by him," suggested Praeclarus.
"We shall be ready for him," said Tarzan.
A moment later there appeared beyond the grating of the cell door the
commander of the Colosseum guards, who had accompanied Fastus and who
had stood between the prince and the prisoner.
"Appius Applosus!" exclaimed Maximus Praeclarus. "He is no assassin, my
friends."
"I am not the assassin of your body, Praeclarus," said Applosus, "but I
am indeed the assassin of your happiness."
"What do you mean, my friend?" demanded Praeclarus.
"In his anger Fastus told me more than he told you."
"He told you what?" asked Praeclarus.
"He told me that Dilecta had consented to become his wife only in the
hope of saving her father and mother and you, Praeclarus, and your
mother, Festivitas."
"To call him swine is to insult the swine," said Praeclarus. "Take
word to her, Applosus, that I would rather die than to see her wed to
Fastus."
"She knows that, my friend," said the officer, "but she thinks also of
her father and her mother and yours."
Praeclarus's chin dropped upon his chest. "I had forgotten that," he
moaned. "Oh, there must be some way to stop it."
"He is the son of Caesar," Applosus reminded him, "and the time is
short."
"I know it! I know it!" cried Praeclarus, "but it is too hideous. It
cannot be."
"This officer is your friend, Praeclarus?" asked Tarzan, indicating
Appius Applosus.
"Yes," said Praeclarus.
"You would trust him fully?" demanded the ape-man.
"With my life and my honor," said Praeclarus.
"Tell him where your keys are and let him fetch them," said the
ape-man.
Praeclarus brightened instantly. "I had not thought of that," he cried,
"but no, his life would be in jeopardy."
"It already is," said Applosus. "Fastus will never forget or forgive
what I said tonight. You, Praeclarus, know that I am already doomed.
What keys do you want? Where are they? I will fetch them."
"Perhaps not when you know what they are," said Praeclarus.
"I can guess," replied Appius Applosus.
"You have been in my apartments often, Applosus?"
The other nodded affirmatively.
"You recall the shelves near the window where my books lie?"
"Yes."
"The back of the third shelf slides to one side and behind it, in the
wall, you will find the keys."
"Good, Praeclarus. You shall have them," said the officer.
The others watched the diminishing light as Appius Applosus departed
along the corridor beneath the Colosseum.
* * * * *
The last day of the games had come. The bloodthirsty populace had
gathered once more as eager and enthusiastic as though they were about
to experience a new and unfamiliar thrill, their appetites swept as
clean of the memories of the past week as were the fresh sands of the
arena of the brown stains of yesterday.
For the last time the inmates of the cell were taken to enclosures
nearer to the entrance to the arena. They had fared better, perhaps,
than others, for of the twelve rings only four were empty.
Maximus Praeclarus alone was left behind. "Good-by," he said. "Those
of you who survive the day shall be free. We shall not see one another
again. Good luck to you and may the gods give strength and skill to
your arms--that is all that I can ask of them, for not even the gods
could give you more courage than you already possess."
"Applosus has failed us," said Hasta.
Tarzan looked troubled. "If only you were coming out with us,
Praeclarus, we should not then need the keys."
From within the enclosure, where they were confined, Tarzan and his
companions could hear the sounds of combat and the groans and hoots and
applause of the audience, but they could not see the floor of the arena.
It was a very large room with heavily barred windows and a door.
Sometimes two men, sometimes four, sometimes six would go out together,
but only one, or two, or three returned. The effect upon the nerves of
those who remained uncalled was maddening. For some the suspense became
almost unendurable. Two attempted suicide and others tried to pick
quarrels with their fellow prisoners, but there were many guards within
the room and the prisoners were unarmed, their weapons being issued to
them only after they had quit the enclosure and were about to enter the
arena.
The afternoon was drawing to a close. Metellus had fought with a
gladiator, both in full armor. Hasta and Tarzan had heard the excited
cries of the populace. They had heard cheer after cheer, which
indicated that each man was putting up a skilful and courageous fight.
There was an instant of silence and then the loud cries of "_Habet!
Habet!_"
"It is over," whispered Cassius Hasta.