them brave and simple and loyal and he, too, was inwardly moved by the
suspense that must be endured until one or the other returned to the
enclosure; but he gave no outward sign of his perturbation, and while
Cassius Hasta paced nervously to and fro Tarzan of the Apes stood
silently, with folded arms, watching the door. After awhile it opened
and Caecilius Metellus crossed the threshold.
Cassius Hasta uttered a cry of relief and sprang forward to embrace his
friend.
Again the door swung open and a minor official entered. "Come," he
cried, "all of you. It is the last event."
Outside the enclosure each man was given a sword, dagger, pike, shield,
and a hempen net, and one by one, as they were thus equipped, they
were sent into the arena. All the survivors of the week of combat were
there--one hundred of them.
They were divided into two equal parties, and red ribbons were
fastened to the shoulders of one party and white ribbons to the
shoulders of the other.
Tarzan was among the reds, as were Hasta, Metellus, Lukedi, Mpingu, and
Ogonyo.
"What are we supposed to do?" asked Tarzan of Hasta.
"The reds will fight against the whites until all the reds are killed
or all the whites."
"They should see blood enough to suit them now," said Tarzan.
"They can never get enough of it," replied Metellus.
The two parties marched to the opposite end of the arena and received
their instructions from the praefect in charge of the games, and then
they were formed, the reds upon one side of the arena, the whites upon
the other. Trumpets sounded and the armed men advanced toward one
another.
Tarzan smiled to himself as he considered the weapons with which he was
supposed to defend himself. The pike he was sure of, for the Waziri
are great spearmen and Tarzan excelled even among them, and with the
dagger he felt at home, so long had the hunting-knife of his father
been his only weapon of protection--but the Spanish sword, he felt,
would probably prove more of a liability than an asset, while the net
in his hands could be nothing more than a sorry joke. He would like to
have thrown his shield aside, for he did not like shields, considering
them, as a rule, useless encumbrances, but he had used them before when
the Waziri had fought other native tribes, and knowing that they were
constructed as a defense against the very weapons that his opponents
were using he retained his and advanced with the others toward the
white line. He had determined that their only hope lay in accounting
for as many of their adversaries in the first clash of arms as was
possible, and this word he had passed down the line with the further
admonition that the instant that a man had disposed of an antagonist he
turn immediately to help the red nearest him, or the one most sorely
beset.
As the two lines drew closer, each man selected the opponent opposite
him and Tarzan found that he faced a black warrior from the outer
villages. They came closer. Some of the men, more eager or nervous
than the others were in advance; some, more fearful, lagged behind.
Tarzan's opponent came upon him. Already pikes were flying through the
air. Tarzan and the black hurled their missiles at the same instant,
and back of the ape-man's throw was all the skill and all the muscle
and all the weight that he could command. Tarzan struck upward with his
shield and his opponent's pike struck it a glancing blow, but with such
force that the spear haft was shattered, while Tarzan's weapon passed
through the shield of his opponent and pierced the fellow's heart.
There were two others down--one killed and one wounded--and the
Colosseum was a babble of voices and a bedlam of noise. Tarzan sprang
quickly to aid one of his fellows, but another white, who had killed
his red opponent, ran to interfere. Tarzan's net annoyed him, so he
threw it at a white who was pressing one of the reds and took on
his fresh opponent, who had drawn his sword. His adversary was a
professional gladiator, a man trained in the use of all his weapons,
and Tarzan soon realized that only through great strength and agility
might he expect to hold his own with this opponent.
The fellow did not rush. He came in slowly and carefully, feeling out
Tarzan. He was cautious because he was an old hand at the business and
was imbued with but a single hope--to live. He cared as little for the
hoots and jibes of the people as he did for their applause, and he
hated Caesar. He soon discovered that Tarzan was adopting defensive
tactics only, but whether this was for the purpose of feeling out his
opponent or whether it was part of a plan that would lead up to a
sudden and swift surprise, the gladiator could not guess, nor did he
care particularly, for he knew that he was master of his weapon and
many a corpse had been burned that in life had thought to surprise him.
Judging Tarzan's skill with the sword by his skill with the shield,
the gladiator thought that he was pitted against a highly skilled
adversary, and he waited patiently for Tarzan to open up his offense
and reveal his style. But Tarzan had no style that could be compared
with that of the gladiator. What he was awaiting was a lucky
chance--the only thing that he felt could assure him victory over
this wary and highly skilled swordsman--but the gladiator gave him no
openings and he was hoping that one of his companions would be free
to come to his assistance, when, suddenly and without warning, a net
dropped over his shoulders from behind.
_Chapter Sixteen_
Cassius Hasta split the helmet of a burly thief who opposed him, and
as he turned to look for a new opponent he saw a white cast a net
over Tarzan's head and shoulders from the rear, while the ape-man was
engaged with a professional gladiator. Cassius was nearer the gladiator
than Tarzan's other opponent and with a cry he hurled himself upon him.
Tarzan saw what Cassius Hasta had done and wheeled to face the white
who had attacked him from the rear.
The gladiator found Cassius Hasta a very different opponent from
Tarzan. Perhaps he was not as skilful with his shield. Perhaps he was
not as powerful, but never in all his experience had the gladiator met
such a swordsman.
The crowd had been watching Tarzan from the beginning of the event
because his great height and his nakedness and his leopard-skin marked
him from all others. They noted that the first cast of his pike had
split the shield of his opponent and dropped him dead and they watched
his encounter with the gladiator, which did not please them at all. It
was far too slow and they hooted and voiced catcalls. When the white
cast the net over him they howled with delight, for they did not know
from one day to the next, or from one minute to the next, what their
own minds would be the next day or the next minute. They were cruel and
stupid, but they were no different from the crowds of any place or any
time.
As Tarzan, entangled in the net, turned to face the new menace, the
white leaped toward him to finish him with a dagger and Tarzan caught
the net with the fingers of both his hands and tore it asunder as
though it had been made of paper, but the fellow was upon him in the
same instant. The dagger hand struck as Tarzan seized the dagger wrist.
Blood ran from beneath the leopard-skin from a wound over Tarzan's
heart, so close had he been to death, but his hand stopped the other
just in time and now steel fingers closed upon that wrist until the man
cried out with pain as he felt his bones crushed together. The ape-man
drew his antagonist toward him and seized him by the throat and shook
him as a terrier shakes a rat, while the air trembled to the delighted
screams of the mob.
An instant later Tarzan cast the lifeless form aside, picked up his
sword and shield that he had been forced to abandon, and sought for
new foes. Thus the battle waged around the arena, each side seeking to
gain the advantage in numbers so that they might set upon the remnant
of their opponents and destroy them. Cassius Hasta had disposed of the
gladiator that he had drawn away from Tarzan and was now engaged with
another swordsman when a second fell upon him. Two to one are heavy
odds, but Cassius Hasta tried to hold the second off until another red
could come to his assistance.
This, however, did not conform with the ideas of the whites who were
engaging him, and they fell upon him with redoubled fury to prevent the
very thing that he hoped for. He saw an opening and quick as lightning
his sword leaped into it, severing the jugular vein of one of his
antagonists, but his guard was down for the instant and a glancing
blow struck his helmet and, though it did not pierce it, it sent him
stumbling to the sand, half-stunned.
"_Habet! Habet!_" cried the people, for Cassius Hasta had fallen close
to one side of the arena where a great number of people could see him.
Standing over him, his antagonist raised his forefinger to the audience
and every thumb went down.
With a smile the white raised his sword to drive it through Hasta's
throat, but as he paused an instant, facing the crowd, in a little
play to the galleries for effect, Tarzan leaped across the soft sand,
casting aside his sword and shield, reverting to the primitive, to the
beast, to save his friend.
It was like the charge of a lion. The crowd saw and was frozen into
silence. They saw him spring in his stride several yards before he
reached the opposing gladiator and, like a jungle beast, fall upon the
shoulders and back of his prey.
Down the two went across the body of Hasta, but instantly the ape-man
was upon his feet and in his hands was his antagonist. He shook him as
he had shaken the other--shook him into unconsciousness, choking him as
he shook, shook him to death, and cast his body from him.
The crowd went wild. They stood upon their benches and shrieked and
waved scarfs and helmets and threw many flowers and sweetmeats into the
arena. Tarzan stopped and lifted Cassius Hasta to his feet as he saw
that he was not killed and consciousness was returning.
Scanning the arena quickly, he saw that fifteen reds survived and but
ten whites. This was a battle for survival. There were no rules and no
ethics. It was your life or mine and Tarzan gathered the surplus five
and set upon the strongest white, who now, surrounded by six swordsmen,
went down to death in an instant.
At Tarzan's command the six divided and each three charged another
white with the result that by following these tactics the event was
brought to a sudden and bloody close with fifteen reds surviving and
the last white slain.
The crowd was crying Tarzan's name above all others, but Sublatus was
enraged. The affront that had been put upon him by this wild barbarian
had not been avenged as he had hoped, but instead Tarzan had achieved
a personal popularity far greater than his own. That it was ephemeral
and subject to the changes of the fickle public mind did not lessen the
indignation and chagrin of the Emperor. His mind could entertain but
one thought toward Tarzan. The creature must be destroyed. He turned to
the praefect in charge of the games and whispered a command.
The crowd was loudly demanding that the laurel wreaths be accorded the
victors and that they be given their freedom, but instead they were
herded back to their enclosure, all but Tarzan.
Perhaps, suggested some members of the audience, Sublatus is going to
honor him particularly, and this rumor ran quickly through the crowd,
as rumors will, until it became a conviction.
Slaves came and dragged away the corpses of the slain and picked up the
discarded weapons and scattered new sand and raked it, while Tarzan
stood where he had been told to stand, beneath the loge of Caesar.
He stood with folded arms, grimly waiting for what he knew not, and
then a low groan rose from the crowded stands--a groan that grew in
volume to loud cries of anger above which Tarzan caught words that
sounded like "Tyrant!" "Coward!" "Traitor!" and "Down with Sublatus!"
He looked around and saw them pointing to the opposite end of the arena
and facing in that direction, he saw the thing that had aroused their
wrath, for instead of a laurel wreath and freedom there stood eying him
a great, black-maned lion, gaunt with hunger.
Toward the anger of the populace Sublatus exhibited, outwardly, an
arrogant and indifferent mien. Contemptuously he permitted his gaze to
circle the stands, but he whispered orders that sent three centuries of
legionaries among the audience in time to overawe a few agitators who
would have led them against the imperial loge.
But now the lion was advancing, and the cruel and selfish audience
forgot its momentary anger against injustice in the expected thrill
of another bloody encounter. Some, who, a moment before, had been
loudly acclaiming Tarzan now cheered the lion, though if the lion were
vanquished they would again cheer Tarzan. That, however, they did not
anticipate, but believed that they had taken sides with the assured
winner, since Tarzan was armed only with a dagger, not having recovered
his other weapons after he had thrown them aside.
Naked, but for loin-cloth and leopard-skin, Tarzan presented a
magnificent picture of physical perfection, and the people of Castra
Sanguinarius gave him their admiration.
They had seen other men that week face other lions bravely and
hopelessly and they saw the same courageous bearing in the giant
barbarian, but the hopelessness they took for granted the ape-man did
not feel. With head flattened, half-crouching, the lion moved slowly
toward its prey, the tip of its tail twitching in nervous anticipation,
its gaunt sides greedy to be filled. Tarzan waited.
Had he been the lion himself, he scarcely could have better known what
was passing in that savage brain. He knew to the instant when the final
charge would start. He knew the speed of that swift and deadly rush. He
knew when and how the lion would rear upon its hind legs to seize him
with great talons and mighty, yellow fangs.
He saw the muscles tense. He saw the twitching tail quiet for an
instant. His folded arms dropped to his side. The dagger remained in
its sheath at his hip. He waited, crouching almost imperceptibly, his
weight upon the balls of his feet, and then the lion charged.
Knowing how accurately the beast had timed its final rush, measuring
the distance to the fraction of a stride, even as a hunter approaches a
jump, the ape-man knew that the surest way in which to gain the first
advantage was to disconcert the charging beast by doing that which he
would least expect.
Numa the lion knows that his quarry usually does one of two things--he
either stands paralyzed with terror or he turns and flees. So seldom
does he charge to meet Numa that the lion never takes this possibility
into consideration and it was, therefore, this very thing that Tarzan
did.
As the lion charged, the ape-man leaped to meet him, and the crowd sat
breathless and silent. Even Sublatus leaned forward with parted lips,
forgetful, for a moment, that he was Caesar.
Numa tried to check himself and rear to meet this presumptuous
man-thing, but he slipped a little in the sand and the great paw that
struck at Tarzan was ill-timed and missed, for the ape-man had dodged
to one side and beneath it, and in the fraction of a second that it
took Numa to recover himself he found that their positions had been
reversed and that the prey that he would have leaped upon had turned
swiftly and leaped upon him.
Full upon the back of the lion sprang Tarzan of the Apes. A giant
forearm encircled the maned throat; steel-thewed legs crossed beneath
the gaunt, slim belly and locked themselves there. Numa reared and
pawed and turned to bite the savage beast upon his back, but the
vise-like arm about his throat pressed tighter, holding him so that his
fangs could not reach their goal. He leaped into the air and when he
alighted on the sand shook himself to dislodge the growling man-beast
clinging to him.
Holding his position with his legs and one arm, Tarzan, with his free
hand, sought the hilt of his dagger. Numa, feeling the life being
choked from him, became frantic. He reared upon his hind legs and threw
himself upon the ground, rolling upon his antagonist, and now the crowd
found its voice again and shouted hoarse delight. Never in the history
of the arena had such a contest as this been witnessed. The barbarian
was offering such a defense as they had not thought possible and they
cheered him, though they knew that eventually the lion would win. Then
Tarzan found his dagger and drove the thin blade into Numa's side, just
back of his left elbow. Again and again the knife struck home, but each
blow seemed only to increase the savage efforts of the lunging beast to
shake the man from his back and tear him to pieces.
Blood was mixed with the foam on Numa's jowls as he stood panting upon
trembling legs after a last futile effort to dislodge the ape-man. He
swayed dizzily. The knife struck deep again. A great stream of blood
gushed from the mouth and nostrils of the dying beast. He lurched
forward and fell lifeless upon the crimsoned sand.
Tarzan of the Apes leaped to his feet. The savage personal combat, the
blood, the contact with the mighty body of the carnivore had stripped
from him the last vestige of the thin veneer of civilization. It
was no English Lord who stood there with one foot upon his kill and
through narrowed lids glared about him at the roaring populace. It
was no man, but a wild beast, that raised its head and voiced the
savage victory cry of the bull ape, a cry that stilled the multitude
and froze its blood. But, in an instant, the spell that had seized him
passed. His expression changed. The shadow of a smile crossed his face
as he stooped and, wiping the blood from his dagger upon Numa's mane,
returned the weapon to its sheath.
Caesar's jealousy had turned to terror as he realized the meaning of
the tremendous ovation the giant barbarian was receiving from the
people of Castra Sanguinarius. He well knew, though he tried to conceal
the fact, that he held no place in popular favor and that Fastus, his
son, was equally hated and despised.
The barbarian was a friend of Maximus Praeclarus, whom he had wronged,
and Maximus Praeclarus, whose popularity with the troops was second to
none, was loved by Dilecta, the daughter of Dion Splendidus, who might
easily aspire to the purple with the support of such a popular idol as
Tarzan must become if he were given his freedom in accordance with the
customs and rules governing the contests. While Tarzan waited in the
arena and the people cheered themselves hoarse, more legionaries filed
into the stands until the wall bristled with glittering pikes.
Caesar whispered in consultation with the praefect of the games.
Trumpets blared and the praefect arose and raised his open palm for
silence. Gradually the din subsided and the people waited, listening,
expecting the honors that were customarily bestowed upon the
outstanding hero of the games. The praefect cleared his throat.
"This barbarian has furnished such extraordinary entertainment that
Caesar, as a special favor to his loyal subjects, has decided to
add one more event to the games in which the barbarian may again
demonstrate his supremacy. This event will"--but what further the
praefect said was drowned in a murmur of surprise, disapproval, and
anger, for the people had sensed by this time the vicious and unfair
trick that Sublatus was about to play upon their favorite.
They cared nothing for fair play, for though the individual may prate
of it at home it has no place in mob psychology, but the mob knew what
it wanted. It wanted to idolize a popular hero. It did not care to see
him fight again that day and it wanted to thwart Sublatus, whom it
hated. Menacing were the cries and threats directed toward Caesar, and
only the glittering pikes kept the mob at bay.
In the arena the slaves were working rapidly; fallen Numa had been
dragged away, the sands swept, and as the last slave disappeared,
leaving Tarzan again alone within the enclosure, those menacing gates
at the far end swung open once more.
_Chapter Seventeen_
As Tarzan looked toward the far end of the arena he saw six bull apes
being herded through the gateway. They had heard the victory cry roll
thunderously from the arena a few minutes before and they came now from
their cages filled with excitement and ferocity. Already had they long
been surly and irritable from confinement and from the teasing and
baiting to which they had been subjected by the cruel Sanguinarians.
Before them they saw a man-thing--a hated Tarmangani. He represented
the creatures that had captured them and teased them and hurt them.
"I am Gayat," growled one of the bull apes. "I kill."
"I am Zutho," bellowed another. "I kill."
"Kill the Tarmangani," barked Go-yad, as the six lumbered
forward--sometimes erect upon their hind feet, sometimes swinging with
gnarled knuckles to the ground.
The crowd hooted and groaned. "Down with Caesar!" "Death to Sublatus!"
rose distinctly above the tumult. To a man they were upon their feet,
but the glittering pikes held them in awe as one or two, with more
courage than brains, sought to reach the loge of Caesar, but ended
upon the pikes of the legionaries instead. Their bodies, lying in the
aisles, served as warning to the others.
Sublatus turned and whispered to a guest in the imperial loge. "This
should be a lesson to all who would dare affront Caesar," he said.
"Quite right," replied the other. "Glorious Caesar is, indeed, all
powerful," but the fellow's lips were blue from terror as he saw how
great and menacing was the crowd and how slim and few looked the
glittering pikes that stood between it and the imperial loge.
As the apes approached, Zutho was in the lead. "I am Zutho," he cried.
"I kill."
"Look well, Zutho, before you kill your friend," replied the ape-man.
"I am Tarzan of the Apes."
Zutho stopped, bewildered. The others crowded about him.
"The Tarmangani spoke in the language of the great apes," said Zutho.
"I know him," said Go-yad. "He was king of the tribe when I was a young
ape."
"It is, indeed, Whiteskin," said Gayat.
"Yes," said Tarzan, "I am Whiteskin. We are all prisoners here
together. These Tarmangani are my enemies and yours. They wish us to
fight, but we shall not."
"No," said Zutho, "we shall not fight against Tarzan."
"Good," said the ape-man, as they gathered close around him, sniffing
that their noses might validate the testimony of their eyes.
"What has happened?" growled Sublatus. "Why do they not attack him?"
"He has cast a spell upon them," replied Caesar's guest.
The people looked on wonderingly. They heard the beasts and the man
growling at one another. How could they guess that they were speaking
together in their common language? They saw Tarzan turn and walk toward
Caesar's loge, his bronzed skin brushing against the black coats of the
savage beasts lumbering at his side. The ape-man and the apes halted
below imperial Caesar. Tarzan's eyes ran quickly around the arena. The
wall was lined with legionaries so not even Tarzan might pass these
unscathed. He looked up at Sublatus.
"Your plan has failed, Caesar. These that you thought would tear me
to pieces are my own people. They will not harm me. If there are any
others that you would turn against me let them come now, but be quick,
for my patience is growing short and if I should say the word these
apes will follow me into the imperial loge and tear you to shreds."
And that is exactly what Tarzan would have done had he not known that
while he doubtless could have killed Sublatus his end would come
quickly beneath the pikes of the legionaries. He was not sufficiently
well versed in the ways of mobs to know that in their present mood the
people would have swarmed to protect him and that the legionaries, with
few exceptions, would have joined forces with them against the hated
tyrant.
What Tarzan wanted particularly was to effect the escape of Cassius
Hasta and Caecilius Metellus simultaneously with his own, so that he
might have the advantage of their assistance in his search for Erich
von Harben in the Empire of the East; therefore, when the praefect
ordered him back to his dungeon he went, taking the apes with him to
their cages.
As the arena gates closed behind him he heard again, above the roaring
of the populace, the insistent demand: "Down with Sublatus!"
As the jailer opened the cell door, Tarzan saw that its only occupant
was Maximus Praeclarus.
"Welcome, Tarzan!" cried the Roman. "I had not thought to see you
again. How is it that you are neither dead nor free?"
"It is the justice of Caesar," replied Tarzan, with a smile, "but at
least our friends are free, for I see they are not here."
"Do not deceive yourself, barbarian," said the jailer. "Your friends
are chained safely in another cell."
"But they won their freedom," exclaimed Tarzan.
"And so did you," returned the jailer, with a grin; "but are you free?"
"It is an outrage," cried Praeclarus. "It cannot be done."
The jailer shrugged. "But it is already done," he said.
"And why?" demanded Praeclarus.
"Think you that a poor soldier has the confidence of Caesar?" asked the
jailer; "but I have heard the reason rumored. Sedition is in the air.
Caesar fears you and all your friends because the people favor you and
you favor Dion Splendidus."
"I see," said Praeclarus, "and so we are to remain here indefinitely."
"I should scarcely say indefinitely," grinned the jailer, as he closed
the door and locked it, leaving them alone.
"I did not like the look in his eye nor the tone of his voice," said
Praeclarus, after the fellow was out of hearing. "The gods are unkind,
but how can I expect else from them when even my best friend fails me?"
"You mean Appius Applosus?" asked Tarzan.
"None other," replied Praeclarus. "If he had fetched the keys, we might
yet escape."
"Perhaps we shall in any event," said Tarzan. "I should never give up
hope until I were dead--and I have never been dead."
"You do not know either the power or perfidy of Caesar," replied the
Roman.
"Nor does Caesar know Tarzan of the Apes."
Darkness had but just enveloped the city, blotting out even the dim
light of their dungeon cell, when the two men perceived wavering
light beams lessening the darkness of the corridor without. The light
increased and they knew that someone was approaching, lighting his way
with a flaring torch.
Visitors to the dungeon beneath the Colosseum were few in the daytime.
Guards and jailers passed occasionally and twice each day slaves came
with food, but at night the silent approach of a single torch might
more surely augur ill than well. Praeclarus and Tarzan dropped the
desultory conversation with which they had been whiling away the time
and waited in silence for whoever might be coming.
Perhaps the night-time visitor was not for them, but the egotism of
misfortune naturally suggested that he was and that his intentions
might be more sinister than friendly. But they had not long to wait
and their suspicions precluded any possibility of surprise when a man
halted before the barred gateway to their cell. As the visitor fitted
the key to the lock Praeclarus recognized him through the bars.
"Appius Applosus!" he cried. "You have come!"
"Ps-st!" cautioned Applosus, and quickly opening the gate he stepped
within and closed it silently behind him. With a quick glance he
surveyed the cell and then extinguished his torch against the stone
wall. "It is fortunate that you are alone," he said, speaking in
whispers, as he dropped to the floor close to the two men.
"You are trembling," said Praeclarus. "What has happened?"
"It is not what has happened, but what is about to happen that alarms
me," replied Applosus. "You have probably wondered why I had not
brought the keys. You have doubtless thought me faithless, but the fact
is that up to this instant, it has been impossible, although I have
stood ready before to risk my life in the attempt, even as I am now
doing."
"But why should it be so difficult for the commander of the Colosseum
guard to visit the dungeon?"
"I am no longer the commander of the guards," replied Applosus.
"Something must have aroused Caesar's suspicions, for I was removed in
the hour that I last left you. Whether someone overheard and reported
our plan or whether it was merely my known friendship for you that
aroused his misgivings, I may only surmise, but the fact remains that
I have been kept on duty constantly at the Porta Praetoria since I was
transferred there from the Colosseum. I have not even been permitted
to return to my home, the reason given being that Caesar expects an
uprising of the barbarians of the outer villages, which, as we all
know, is utterly ridiculous.
"I risked everything to leave my post only an hour ago and that because
of a word of gossip that was passed to me by a young officer, who came
to relieve another at the gate."
"What said he?" demanded Praeclarus.
"He said that an officer of the palace guard had told him that he had
been ordered to come to your cell tonight and assassinate both you and
this white barbarian. I hastened to Festivitas and together we found
the keys that I promised to bring you, but even as I slunk through
the shadows of the city's streets, endeavoring to reach the Colosseum
unobserved or unrecognized, I feared that I might be too late, for
Caesar's orders are that you are to be dispatched at once. Here are the
keys, Praeclarus. If I may do more, command me."
"No, my friend," replied Praeclarus, "you have already risked more than
enough. Go at once. Return to your post lest Caesar learn and destroy
you."
"Farewell then and good luck," said Applosus. "If you would leave the
city, remember that Appius Applosus commands the Porta Praetoria."
"I shall not forget, my friend," replied Praeclarus, "but I shall not
impose further risks upon your friendship."
Appius Applosus turned to leave the cell, but he stopped suddenly at
the gate. "It is too late," he whispered. "Look!"
The faint gleams of distant torch-light were cutting the gloom of the
corridor.
"They come!" whispered Praeclarus. "Make haste!" but instead Appius
Applosus stepped quickly to one side of the doorway, out of sight of
the corridor beyond, and drew his Spanish sword.
Rapidly the torch swung down the corridor. The scraping of sandals on
stone could be distinctly heard, and the ape-man knew that whoever came
was alone. A man wrapped in a long dark cloak halted before the barred
door and, holding his torch above his head, peered within.
"Maximus Praeclarus!" he whispered. "Are you within?"
"Yes," replied Praeclarus.
"Good!" exclaimed the other. "I was not sure that this was the right
cell."
"What is your errand?" demanded Praeclarus.
"I come from Caesar," said the other. "He sends a note."
"A sharp one?" inquired Praeclarus.
"Sharp and pointed," laughed the officer.
"We are expecting you."
"You knew?" demanded the other.
"We guessed, for we know Caesar."
"Then make your peace with your gods," said the officer, drawing his
sword and pushing the door open, "for you are about to die."
There was a cold smile upon his lips as he stepped across the
threshold, for Caesar knew his men and had chosen well the proper type
for this deed--a creature without conscience whose envy and jealousy
Praeclarus had aroused, and the smile was still upon his lips as the
sword of Appius Applosus crashed through his helmet to his brain. As
the man lunged forward dead, the torch fell from his left hand and was
extinguished upon the floor.
"Now go," whispered Praeclarus to Applosus, "and may the gratitude of
those you have saved prove a guard against disaster."
"It could not have turned out better," whispered Applosus. "You have
the keys; you have his weapons, and now you have ample time to make
your escape before the truth is learned. Good-by, again. Good-by, and
may the gods protect you."
As Applosus moved cautiously along the dark corridor, Maximus
Praeclarus fitted keys to their manacles and both men stood erect,
freed at last from their hated chains. No need to formulate plans--they
had talked and talked of nothing else for weeks, changing them only to
meet altered conditions. Now their first concern was to find Hasta and
Metellus and the others upon whose loyalty they could depend and to
gather around them as many of the other prisoners as might be willing
to follow them in the daring adventure they contemplated.
Through the darkness of the corridor they crept from cell to cell
and in the few that still held prisoners they found none unwilling
to pledge his loyalty to any cause or to any leader that might offer
freedom. Lukedi, Mpingu, and Ogonyo were among those they liberated.
They had almost given up hope of finding the others when they came
upon Metellus and Hasta in a cell close to the entrance to the arena.
With them were a number of professional gladiators, who should have
been liberated with the other victors at the end of the games, but who
were being kept because of some whim of Caesar that they could not
understand and that only inflamed them to anger against the Emperor.
To a man they pledged themselves to follow wherever Tarzan might lead.
"Few of us will come through alive," said the ape-man, when they had
all gathered in the large room that was reserved for the contestants
before they were ushered into the arena, "but those who do will have
been avenged upon Caesar for the wrongs that he has done them."
"The others will be welcomed by the gods as heroes worthy of every
favor," added Praeclarus.
"We do not care whether your cause be right or wrong, or whether we
live or die," said a gladiator, "so long as there is good fighting."
"There will be good fighting. I can promise you that," said Tarzan,
"and plenty of it."
"Then lead on," said the gladiator.
"But first I must liberate the rest of my friends," said the ape-man.
"We have emptied every cell," said Praeclarus. "There are no more."
"Oh, yes, my friend," said Tarzan. "There are still others--the great
apes."
_Chapter Eighteen_
In the dungeons of Validus Augustus in Castrum Mare, Erich von Harben
and Mallius Lepus awaited the triumph of Validus Augustus and the
opening of the games upon the morrow.
"We have nothing to expect but death," said Lepus, gloomily. "Our
friends are in disfavor, or in prison, or in exile. The jealousy of
Validus Augustus against his nephew, Cassius Hasta, has been invoked
against us by Fulvus Fupus to serve his own aims."
"And the fault is mine," said von Harben.
"Do not reproach yourself," replied his friend. "That Favonia gave
you her love cannot be held against you. It is only the jealous and
scheming mind of Fupus that is to blame."
"My love has brought sorrow to Favonia and disaster to her friends,"
said von Harben, "and here am I, chained to a stone wall, unable to
strike a blow in her defense or theirs."
"Ah, if Cassius Hasta were but here!" exclaimed Lepus. "There is a
man. With Fupus adopted by Caesar, the whole city would arise against
Validus Augustus if Cassius Hasta were but here to lead us."
And as they conversed sadly and hopelessly in the dungeons of Castrum
Mare, noble guests gathered in the throne-room of Sublatus in the city
of Castra Sanguinarius, at the opposite end of the valley. There were
senators in rich robes and high officers of the court and of the army,
resplendent in jewels and embroidered linen, who, with their wives and
daughters, formed a gorgeous and glittering company in the pillared
chamber, for Fastus, the son of Caesar, was to wed the daughter of Dion
Splendidus that evening.
In the avenue, beyond the palace gates, a great crowd had assembled--a
multitude of people pushing and surging to and fro, but pressing ever
upon the gates up to the very pikes of the legionaries. It was a noisy
crowd--noisy with a deep-throated roar of anger.
"Down with the tyrant!" "Death to Sublatus!" "Death to Fastus!" was the
burden of their hymn of hate.
The menacing notes filled the palace, reaching to the throne-room, but
the haughty patricians pretended not to hear the voice of the cattle.
Why should they fear? Had not Sublatus distributed donations to all the
troops that very day? Would not the pikes of the legionaries protect
the source of their gratuity? It would serve the ungrateful populace
right if Sublatus set the legions upon them, for had he not given them
such a pageant and such a week of games as Castra Sanguinarius never
had known before?
For the rabble without, their contempt knew no bounds now that they
were within the palace of the Emperor, but they did not speak among
themselves of the fact that most of them had entered by a back gate
after the crowd had upset the litter of a noble senator and spilled its
passengers into the dust of the avenue.
With pleasure they anticipated the banquet that would follow the
marriage ceremony, and while they laughed and chattered over the gossip
of the week, the bride sat stark and cold in an upper chamber of the
palace surrounded by her female slaves and comforted by her mother.
"It shall not be," she said. "I shall never be the wife of Fastus," and
in the folds of her flowing robe she clutched the hilt of a slim dagger.
In the corridor beneath the Colosseum, Tarzan marshaled his forces.
He summoned Lukedi and a chief of one of the outer villages, who had
been a fellow prisoner with him and with whom he had fought shoulder to
shoulder in the games.
"Go to the Porta Praetoria," he said, "and ask Appius Applosus to pass
you through the city wall as a favor to Maximus Praeclarus. Go then
among the villages and gather warriors. Tell them that if they would be
avenged upon Caesar and free to live their own lives in their own way,
they must rise now and join the citizens who are ready to revolt and
destroy the tyrant. Hasten, there is no time to be lost. Gather them
quickly and lead them into the city by the Porta Praetoria, straight to
the palace of Caesar."
Warning their followers to silence, Tarzan and Maximus Praeclarus led
them in the direction of the barracks of the Colosseum guard, where
were quartered the men of Praeclarus's own cohort.
It was a motley throng of near-naked black warriors from the outer
villages, black slaves from the city, and brown half-castes, among whom
were murderers, thieves and professional gladiators. Praeclarus and
Hasta and Metellus and Tarzan led them, and swarming close to Tarzan
were Gayat, Zutho, and Go-yad and their three fellow apes.
Ogonyo was certain now that Tarzan was a demon, for who else might
command the hairy men of the woods? Doubtless in each of these fierce
bodies presided the ghost of some great Bagego chief. If little Nkima
had been the ghost of his grandfather, then these must be the ghosts
of very great men, indeed. Ogonyo did not press too closely to these
savage allies, nor as a matter of fact did any of the others--not even
the most ferocious of the gladiators.
At the barracks Maximus Praeclarus knew to whom to speak and what to
say, for mutiny had long been rife in the ranks of the legionaries.
Only their affection for some of their officers, among whom was
Praeclarus, had kept them thus long in leash, and now they welcomed the
opportunity to follow the young patrician to the very gates of Caesar's
palace.
Following a plan that had been decided upon, Praeclarus dispatched a
detachment under an officer to the Porta Praetoria with orders to take
it by force, if they could not persuade Appius Applosus to join them,
and throw it open to the warriors from the outer villages when they
should arrive.
Along the broad Via Principalis, overhung by giant trees that formed a
tunnel of darkness in the night, Tarzan of the Apes led his followers
toward the palace in the wake of a few torch-bearers, who lighted the
way.
As they approached their goal, someone upon the outskirts of the
crowd, pressing the palace guard, was attracted by the light of their
torches and quickly the word was passed that Caesar had sent for
reënforcements--that more troops were coming. The temper of the crowd,
already inflamed, was not improved as this news spread quickly through
its ranks, A few, following a self-appointed leader, moved forward
menacingly to meet the newcomers.
"Who comes?" shouted one.
"It is I, Tarzan of the Apes," replied the ape-man.
The shout that went up in response to this declaration proved that the
fickle populace had not, as yet, turned against him.
Within the palace the cries of the people brought a scowl to the face
of Caesar and a sneer to many a patrician lip, but their reaction might
have been far different had they known the cause of the elation of the
mob.
"Why are you here?" cried voices. "What are you going to do?"
"We have come to rescue Dilecta from the arms of Fastus and to drag the
tyrant from the throne of Castra Sanguinarius."
Roars of approval greeted the announcement. "Death to the tyrant!"
"Down with the palace guards!" "Kill them!" "Kill them!" rose from a
thousand lips.
The crowd pushed forward. The officer of the guard, seeing the
reënforcements, among which were many legionaries, ordered his men to
fall back within the palace grounds and close and bar the gate, nor
did they succeed in accomplishing this an instant too soon, for as the
bolts were shot the crowd hurled itself upon the stout barriers of iron
and oak.
A pale-faced messenger hastened to the throne-room and to Caesar's side.
"The people have risen," he whispered, hoarsely, "and many soldiers and
gladiators and slaves have joined them. They are throwing themselves
against the gates, which cannot hold for long."
Caesar arose and paced nervously to and fro, and presently he paused
and summoned officers.
"Dispatch messengers to every gate and every barracks," he ordered.
"Summon the troops to the last man that may be spared from the gates.
Order them to fall upon the rabble and kill. Let them kill until no
citizen remains alive in the streets of Castra Sanguinarius. Take no
prisoners."
As word finds its way through a crowd, as though by some strange
telepathic means, so the knowledge soon became common that Sublatus had
ordered every legionary in the city to the palace with instructions to
destroy the revolutionaries to the last man.
The people, encouraged by the presence of the legionaries led by
Praeclarus, had renewed their assaults upon the gates, and though many
were piked through its bars, their bodies were dragged away by their
friends and others took their places, so that the gates sagged and bent
beneath their numbers; yet they held and Tarzan saw that they might
hold for long--or at least long enough to permit the arrival of the
reënforcements that, if they remained loyal to Caesar, might overcome
this undisciplined mob with ease.
Gathering around him some of those he knew best, Tarzan explained a new
plan that was greeted with exclamations of approval, and summoning the
apes he moved down the dark avenue, followed by Maximus Praeclarus,
Cassius Hasta, Caecilius Metellus, Mpingu, and a half dozen of Castra
Sanguinarius's most famous gladiators.
The wedding of Fastus and Dilecta was to take place upon the steps
of Caesar's throne. The high priest of the temple stood facing the
audience, and just below him, and at one side, Fastus waited, while
slowly up the center of the long chamber came the bride, followed by
the vestal virgins, who tended the temple's sacred fires.
Dilecta was pale, but she did not falter as she moved slowly forward
to her doom. There were many who whispered that she looked the Empress
already, so noble was her mien, so stately her carriage. They could
not see the slim dagger clutched in her right hand beneath the flowing
bridal robes. Up the aisle she moved, but she did not halt before the
priest as Fastus had done--and as she should have done--but passed him
and mounting the first few steps toward the throne she halted, facing
Sublatus.
"The people of Castra Sanguinarius have been taught through all the
ages that they may look to Caesar for protection," she said. "Caesar
not only makes the law--he is the law. He is either the personification
of justice or he is a tyrant. Which, Sublatus, are you?"
Caesar flushed. "What mad whim is this, child?" he demanded. "Who has
set you to speak such words to Caesar?"
"I have not been prompted," replied the girl, wearily. "It is my last
hope and though I knew beforehand that it was futile, I felt that I
must not cast it aside as useless before putting it to the test."
"Come! Come!" snapped Caesar. "Enough of this foolishness. Take your
place before the priest and repeat your marriage vows."
"You cannot refuse me," cried the girl, stubbornly. "I appeal to
Caesar, which is my right as a citizen of Rome, the mother city that we
have never seen, but whose right to citizenship has been handed down to
us from our ancient sires. Unless the spark of freedom is to be denied
us, you cannot refuse me that right, Sublatus."
The Emperor paled and then flushed with anger. "Come to me tomorrow,"
he said. "You shall have whatever you wish."
"If you do not hear me now, there will be no tomorrow," she said. "I
demand my rights now."
"Well," demanded Caesar, coldly, "what favor do you seek?"
"I seek no favor," replied Dilecta. "I seek the right to know if the
thing for which I am paying this awful price has been done, as it was
promised."
"What do you mean?" demanded Sublatus. "What proof do you wish?"
"I wish to see Maximus Praeclarus here alive and free," replied the
girl, "before I pledge my troth to Fastus. That, as you well know, was
the price of my promise to wed him."
Caesar arose angrily. "That cannot be," he said.
"Oh, yes, it can be," cried a voice from the balcony at the side of the
chamber, "for Maximus Praeclarus stands just behind me."
_Chapter Nineteen_
Every eye turned in the direction of the balcony from which came the
voice of the speaker. A gasp of astonishment arose from the crowded
room.
"The barbarian!" "Maximus Praeclarus!" cried a score of voices.
"The guard! The guard!" screamed Caesar, as Tarzan leaped from the
balcony to one of the tall pillars that supported the roof and slid
quickly to the floor, while behind him came six hairy apes.
A dozen swords flashed from their scabbards as Tarzan and the six
leaped toward the throne. Women screamed and fainted, Caesar shrank
back upon his golden seat, momentarily paralyzed by terror.
A noble with bared blade leaped in front of Tarzan to bar his way, but
Goy-ad sprang full upon him. Yellow fangs bit once into his neck and,
as the great ape arose and standing on the body of his kill roared
forth his victory cry, the other nobles shrank back. Fastus, with a
scream, turned and fled, and Tarzan leaped to Dilecta's side. As the
apes ascended the steps to the dais, Caesar, jabbering with terror,
scuttled from his seat and hid, half-fainting, behind the great throne
that was the symbol of his majesty and his power.
But it was not long before the nobles and officers and soldiers in the
apartment regained the presence of mind that the sudden advent of this
horrid horde had scattered to the four winds, and now, seeing only the
wild barbarian and six unarmed beasts threatening them, they pushed
forward. Just then a small door beneath the balcony from which Tarzan
had descended to the floor of the throne-room was pushed open, giving
entrance to Maximus Praeclarus, Cassius Hasta, Caecilius Metellus,
Mpingu, and the others who had accompanied Tarzan over the palace wall
beneath the shadows of the great trees into which the ape-man and the
apes had assisted their less agile fellows.
As Caesar's defenders sprang forward they were met by some of the best
swords in Castra Sanguinarius, as in the forefront of the fighting were
the very gladiators whose exploits they had cheered during the week.
Tarzan passed Dilecta to Mpingu, for he and Praeclarus must lend a hand
in the fighting.
Slowly, Dilecta's defenders fell back before the greater number of
nobles, soldiers, and guardsmen who were summoned from other parts of
the palace. Back toward the little door they fell, while shoulder to
shoulder with the gladiators and with Maximus Praeclarus and Hasta and
Metellus, Tarzan fought and the great apes spread consternation among
all because of their disposition to attack friend as well as foe.
And out upon the Via Principalis the crowd surged and the great
gates gave to a shrieking mob that poured into the palace grounds,
overwhelming the guards, trampling them--trampling their own dead and
their own living.
But the veteran legionaries who composed the palace guard made a
new stand at the entrance to the palace. Once more they checked the
undisciplined rabble, which had by now grown to such proportions
that the revolting troops, who had joined them, were lost in their
midst. The guard had dragged an onager to the palace steps and were
discharging stones into the midst of the crowd, which continued to rush
forward to fall upon the pikes of the palace defenders.
In the distance trumpets sounded from the direction of the Porta
Decumana, and from the Porta Principalis Dextra came the sound of
advancing troops. At first those upon the outskirts of the mob, who had
heard these sounds, did not interpret them correctly. They cheered and
shouted. These cowards that hang always upon the fringe of every crowd,
letting others take the risks and do the fighting for them, thought
that more troops had revolted and that the reënforcements were for
them. But their joy was short-lived, for the first century that swung
into the Via Principalis from the Porta Decumana fell upon them with
pike and sword until those who were not slain escaped, screaming, in
all directions.
Century after century came at the double. They cleared the Via
Principalis and fell upon the mob within the palace court until the
revolt dissolved into screaming individuals fleeing through the
darkness of the palace grounds, seeking any shelter that they might
find, while terrible legionaries pursued them with flaming torches and
bloody swords.
Back into the little room from which they had come fell Tarzan and his
followers. The doorway was small and it was not difficult for a few men
to hold it, but when they would have retreated through the window they
had entered and gone back into the palace grounds to seek escape across
the walls in the shadows of the old trees, they saw the ground swarming
with legionaries and realized that the back of the revolt had been
broken.
The anteroom in which they had taken refuge would barely accommodate
them all, but it offered probably the best refuge they could have
found in all the palace of Sublatus, for there were but two openings
in it--the single small doorway leading into the throne-room and an
even smaller window letting into the palace gardens. The walls were all
stone and proof against any weapons at the disposal of the legionaries;
yet if the uprising had failed and the legionaries had not joined the
people, as they had expected, of what value this temporary sanctuary?
The instant that hunger and thirst assailed them this same room would
become their prison cell and torture chamber--and perhaps for many of
them a vestibule to the grave.
"Ah, Dilecta," cried Praeclarus, in the first moment that he could
seize to go to her side, "I have found you only to lose you again. My
rashness, perhaps has brought you death."
"Your coming saved me from death," replied the girl, drawing the dagger
from her gown and exhibiting it to Praeclarus. "I chose this as husband
rather than Fastus," she said, "so if I die now I have lived longer
than I should have, had you not come; and at least I die happy, for we
shall die together."
"This is no time to be speaking of dying," said Tarzan. "Did you think
a few hours ago that you would ever be together again? Well, here you
are. Perhaps in a few more hours everything will be changed and you
will be laughing at the fears you are now entertaining."
Some of the gladiators, who were standing near and had overheard
Tarzan's words, shook their heads.
"Any of us who gets out of this room alive," said one, "will be burned
at the stake, or fed to lions, or pulled apart by wild buffalo. We are
through, but it has been a good fight, and I for one thank this great
barbarian for this glorious end."
Tarzan shrugged and turned away. "I am not dead yet," he said, "and
not until I am dead is it time to think of it--and then it will be too
late."
Maximus Praeclarus laughed. "Perhaps you are right," he said. "What do
you suggest? If we stay here, we shall be slain, so you must have some
plan for getting us out."
"If we can discern no hope of advantage through our own efforts,"
replied Tarzan, "we must look elsewhere and await such favors of
fortune as may come from without, either through the intervention of
our friends beyond the palace grounds or from the carelessness of the
enemy himself. I admit that just at present our case appears desperate,
but even so I am not without hope; at least we may be cheered by the
realization that whatever turn events may take it must be for the
better, since nothing could be worse."
"I do not agree with you," said Metellus, pointing through the window.
"See, they are setting up a small ballista in the garden. Presently our
condition will be much worse than it is now."
"The walls appear substantial," returned the ape-man. "Do you think
they can batter them down, Praeclarus?"
"I doubt it," replied the Roman, "but every missile that comes through
the window must take its toll, as we are so crowded here that all of us
cannot get out of range."
The legionaries that had been summoned to the throne-room had been
held at the small doorway by a handful of gladiators and the defenders
had been able to close and bar the stout oaken door. For a time there
had been silence in the throne-room and no attempt was made to gain
entrance to the room upon that side; while upon the garden side two
or three attempts to rush the window had been thwarted, and now the
legionaries held off while the small ballista was being dragged into
place and trained upon the palace wall.
Dilecta having been placed in an angle of the room where she would
be safest, Tarzan and his lieutenants watched the operations of the
legionaries in the garden.
"They do not seem to be aiming directly at the window," remarked
Cassius Hasta.
"No," said Praeclarus. "I rather think they intend making a breach
in the wall through which a sufficient number of them can enter to
overpower us."
"If we could rush the ballista and take it," mused Tarzan, "we could
make it rather hot for them. Let us hold ourselves in readiness for
that, if their missiles make it too hot for us in here. We shall have
some advantage if we anticipate their assault by a sortie of our own."
A dull thud upon the door at the opposite end of the room brought the
startled attention of the defenders to that quarter. The oak door
sagged and the stone walls trembled to the impact.
Cassius Hasta smiled wryly. "They have brought a ram," he said.
And now a heavy projectile shook the outer wall and a piece of plaster
crumbled to the floor upon the inside--the ballista had come into
action. Once again the heavy battering-ram shivered the groaning
timbers of the door and the inmates of the room could hear the
legionaries chanting the hymn of the ram to the cadence of which they
swung it back and heaved it forward.
The troops in the garden went about their duty with quiet, military
efficiency. Each time a stone from the ballista struck the wall there
was a shout, but there was nothing spontaneous in the demonstration,
which seemed as perfunctory as the mechanical operation of the ancient
war-engine that delivered its missiles with almost clocklike regularity.
The greatest damage that the ballista appeared to be doing was to the
plaster on the inside of the wall, but the battering-ram was slowly but
surely shattering the door at the opposite side of the room.
"Look," said Metellus, "they are altering the line of the ballista.
They have discovered that they can effect nothing against the wall."
"They are aiming at the window," said Praeclarus.
"Those of you who are in line with the window lie down upon the floor,"
commanded Tarzan. "Quickly! the hammer is falling upon the trigger."
The next missile struck one side of the window, carrying away a piece
of the stone, and this time the result was followed by an enthusiastic
shout from the legionaries in the garden.
"That's what they should have done in the beginning," commented Hasta.
"If they get the walls started at the edge of the window, they can
make a breach more quickly there than elsewhere."
"That is evidently what they are planning on doing," said Metellus, as
a second missile struck in the same place and a large fragment of the
wall crumbled.
"Look to the door," shouted Tarzan, as the weakened timbers sagged to
the impact of the ram.
A dozen swordsmen stood ready and waiting to receive the legionaries,
whose rush they expected the instant that the door fell. At one side of
the room the six apes crouched, growling, and kept in leash only by the
repeated assurances of Tarzan that the man-things in the room with them
were the friends of the ape-man.
As the door crashed, there was a momentary silence, as each side waited
to see what the other would do, and in the lull that ensued there came
through the air a roaring sound ominous and threatening, and then the
shouts of the legionaries in the throne-room and the legionaries in the
garden drowned all other sounds.
The gap around the window had been enlarged. The missiles of the
ballista had crumbled the wall from the ceiling to the floor, and as
though in accordance with a prearranged plan the legionaries assaulted
simultaneously, one group rushing the doorway from the throne-room, the
other the breach in the opposite wall.
Tarzan turned toward the apes and pointing in the direction of the
breached wall, shouted: "Stop them, Zutho! Kill, Go-yad! Kill!"
The men near him looked at him in surprise and perhaps they shuddered
a little as they heard the growling voice of a beast issue from the
throat of the giant barbarian, but instantly they realized he was
speaking to his hairy fellows, as they saw the apes spring forward with
bared fangs and, growling hideously, throw themselves upon the first
legionaries to reach the window. Two apes went down, pierced by Roman
pikes, but before the beastly rage of the others Caesar's soldiers gave
back.
"After them," cried Tarzan to Praeclarus. "Follow them into the garden.
Capture the ballista and turn it upon the legionaries. We will hold
the throne-room door until you have seized the ballista, then we shall
fall back upon you."
After the battling apes rushed the three patricians, Maximus
Praeclarus, Cassius Hasta, and Caecilius Metellus, leading gladiators,
thieves, murderers, and slaves into the garden, profiting by the
temporary advantage the apes had gained for them.
Side by side with the remaining gladiators Tarzan fought to hold the
legionaries back from the little doorway until the balance of his party
had won safely to the garden and seized the ballista. Glancing back he
saw Mpingu leading Dilecta from the room in the rear of the escaped
prisoners. Then he turned again to the defense of the doorway, which
his little party held stubbornly until Tarzan saw the ballista in the
hands of his own men, and, giving step by step across the room, he and
they backed through the breach in the wall.
At a shout of command from Praeclarus, they leaped to one side. The
hammer fell upon the trigger of the ballista, which Praeclarus had
lined upon the window, and a heavy rock drove full into the faces of
the legionaries.
For a moment the fates had been kind to Tarzan and his fellows, but
it soon became apparent that they were little if any better off here
than in the room they had just quitted, for in the garden they were
ringed by legionaries. Pikes were flying through the air, and though
the ballista and their own good swords were keeping the enemy at a
respectful distance, there was none among them who believed that they
could for long withstand the superior numbers and the better equipment
of their adversaries.
There came a pause in the fighting, which must necessarily be the case
in hand-to-hand encounters, and as though by tacit agreement each side
rested. The three whites watched the enemy closely. "They are preparing
for a concerted attack with pikes," said Praeclarus.
"That will write finis to our earthly endeavors," remarked Cassius
Hasta.
"May the gods receive us with rejoicing," said Caecilius Metellus.
"I think the gods prefer them to us," said Tarzan.
"Why?" demanded Cassius Hasta.
"Because they have taken so many more of them to heaven this night,"
replied the ape-man, pointing at the corpses lying about the garden,
and Cassius Hasta smiled, appreciatively.
"They will charge in another moment," said Maximus Praeclarus, and
turning to Dilecta he took her in his arms and kissed her. "Good-by,
dear heart," he said. "How fleeting is happiness! How futile the hopes
of mortal man!"
"Not good-by, Praeclarus," replied the girl, "for where you go I shall
go," and she showed him the slim dagger in her hand.
"No," cried the man. "Promise me that you will not do that."
"And why not? Is not death sweeter than Fastus?"
"Perhaps you are right," he said, sadly.
"They come," cried Cassius Hasta.
"Ready!" shouted Tarzan. "Give them all we have. Death is better than
the dungeons of the Colosseum."
_Chapter Twenty_
From the far end of the garden, above the din of breaking battle, rose
a savage cry--a new note that attracted the startled attention of the
contestants upon both sides. Tarzan's head snapped to attention. His
nostrils sniffed the air. Recognition, hope, surprise, incredulity
surged through his consciousness as he stood there with flashing eyes
looking out over the heads of his adversaries.
In increasing volume the savage roar rolled into the garden of Caesar.
The legionaries turned to face the vanguard of an army led by a horde
of ebon warriors, glistening giants from whose proud heads floated
white feather war-bonnets and from whose throats issued the savage
war-cry that had filled the heart of Tarzan--the Waziri had come.
At their head Tarzan saw Muviro and with him was Lukedi, but what the
ape-man did not see, and what none of those in the garden of Caesar
saw until later, was the horde of warriors from the outer villages of
Castra Sanguinarius that, following the Waziri into the city, were
already over-running the palace seeking the vengeance that had so long
been denied them.
As the last of the legionaries in the garden threw down their arms and
begged Tarzan's protection, Muviro ran to the ape-man and, kneeling
at his feet, kissed his hand, and at the same instant a little monkey
dropped from an overhanging tree onto Tarzan's shoulder.
"The gods of our ancestors have been good to the Waziri," said Muviro,
"otherwise we should have been too late."
"I was puzzled as to how you found me," said Tarzan, "until I saw
Nkima."
"Yes, it was Nkima," said Muviro. "He came back to the country of the
Waziri, to the land of Tarzan, and led us here. Many times we would
have turned back thinking that he was mad, but he urged us on and we
followed him, and now the big Bwana can come back with us to the home
of his own people."
"No," said Tarzan, shaking his head, "I cannot come yet. The son of my
good friend is still in this valley, but you are just in time to help
me rescue him, nor is there any time to lose."
Legionaries, throwing down their arms, were running from the palace,
from which came the shrieks and groans of the dying and the savage
hoots and cries of the avenging horde. Praeclarus stepped to Tarzan's
side.
"The barbarians of the outer villages are attacking the city, murdering
all who fall into their hands," he cried. "We must gather what men we
can and make a stand against them. Will these blacks, who have just
come, fight with us against them?"
"They will fight as I direct," replied Tarzan, "but I think it will not
be necessary to make war upon the barbarians. Lukedi, where are the
white officers who command the barbarians?"
"Once they neared the palace," replied Lukedi, "the warriors became
so excited that they broke away from their white leaders and followed
their own chieftain."
"Go and fetch their greatest chief," directed Tarzan.
During the half hour that followed, Tarzan and his lieutenants were
busy reorganizing their forces into which were incorporated the
legionaries who had surrendered to them, in caring for the wounded,
and planning for the future. From the palace came the hoarse cries of
the hooting blacks, and Tarzan had about abandoned hope that Lukedi
would be able to persuade a chief to come to him when Lukedi returned,
accompanied by two warriors from the outer villages, whose bearing and
ornaments proclaimed them chieftains.
"You are the man called Tarzan?" demanded one of the chiefs.
The ape-man nodded. "I am," he said.
"We have been looking for you. This Bagego said that you have promised
that no more shall our people be taken into slavery and no longer shall
our warriors be condemned to the arena. How can you, who are yourself a
barbarian, guarantee this to us?"
"If I cannot guarantee it, you have the power to enforce it yourself,"
replied the ape-man, "and I with my Waziri will aid you, but now you
must gather your warriors. Let no one be killed from now on who does
not oppose you. Gather your warriors and take them into the avenue
before the palace and then come with your sub-chiefs to the throne-room
of Caesar. There we shall demand and receive justice, not for the
moment but for all time. Go!"
Eventually the looting horde of blacks was quieted by their chiefs and
withdrawn to the Via Principalis. Waziri warriors manned the shattered
gate of Caesar's palace and lined the corridor to the throne-room and
the aisle to the foot of the throne. They formed a half circle about
the throne itself, and upon the throne of Caesar sat Tarzan of the Apes
with Praeclarus and Dilecta and Cassius Hasta and Caecilius Metellus
and Muviro about him, while little Nkima sat upon his shoulder and
complained bitterly, for Nkima, as usual, was frightened and cold and
hungry.
"Send legionaries to fetch Sublatus and Fastus," Tarzan directed
Praeclarus, "for this business must be attended to quickly, as within
the hour I march on Castrum Mare."
Flushed with excitement, the legionaries that had been sent to fetch
Sublatus and Fastus rushed into the throne-room. "Sublatus is dead!"
they cried. "Fastus is dead! The barbarians have slain them. The
chambers and corridors above are filled with the bodies of senators,
nobles, and officers of the legion."
"Are none left alive?" demanded Praeclarus, paling.
"Yes," replied one of the legionaries, "there were many barricaded
in another apartment who withstood the onslaught of the blacks. We
explained to them that they are now safe and they are coming to the
throne-room," and up the aisle marched the remnants of the wedding
guests, the sweat and blood upon the men evidencing the dire straits
from which they had been delivered, the women still nervous and
hysterical. Leading them came Dion Splendidus, and at the sight of him
Dilecta gave a cry of relief and pleasure and ran down the steps of the
throne and along the aisle to meet him.
Tarzan's face lighted with relief when he saw the old senator, for
his weeks in the home of Festivitas and his long incarceration with
Maximus Praeclarus in the dungeons of the Colosseum had familiarized
him with the politics of Castra Sanguinarius, and now the presence of
Dion Splendidus was all that he needed to complete the plans that the
tyranny and cruelty of Sublatus had forced upon him.
He rose from the throne and raised his hand for silence. The hum of
voices ceased. "Caesar is dead, but upon someone of you must fall the
mantle of Caesar."
"Long live Tarzan! Long live the new Caesar!" cried one of the
gladiators, and instantly every Sanguinarian in the room took up the
cry.
The ape-man smiled and shook his head. "No," he said, "not I, but there
is one here to whom I offer the imperial diadem upon the condition
that he fulfill the promises I have made to the barbarians of the outer
villages.
"Dion Splendidus, will you accept the imperial purple with the
understanding that the men of the outer villages shall be forever free;
that no longer shall their girls or their boys be pressed into slavery,
or their warriors forced to do battle in the arena?" Dion Splendidus
bowed his head in assent--and thus did Tarzan refuse the diadem and
create a Caesar.
_Chapter Twenty-one_
The yearly triumph of Validus Augustus, Emperor of the East, had been a
poor thing by comparison with that of Sublatus of Castra Sanguinarius,
though dignity and interest was lent the occasion by the presence of
the much advertised barbarian chieftain, who strode in chains behind
Caesar's chariot.
The vain show of imperial power pleased Validus Augustus, deceived
perhaps the more ignorant of his subjects, and would have given Erich
von Harben cause for laughter had he not realized the seriousness of
his position.
No captive chained to the chariot of the greatest Caesar that ever
lived had faced a more hopeless situation than he. What though he knew
that a regiment of marines or a squadron of Uhlans might have reduced
this entire empire to vassalage? What though he knew that the mayor of
many a modern city could have commanded a fighting force far greater
and much more effective than this little Caesar? The knowledge was only
tantalizing, for the fact remained that Validus Augustus was supreme
here and there was neither regiment of marines nor squadron of Uhlans
to question his behavior toward the subject of a great republic that
could have swallowed his entire empire without being conscious of any
discomfort. The triumph was over. Von Harben had been returned to the
cell that he occupied with Mallius Lepus.
"You are back early," said Lepus. "How did the triumph of Validus
impress you?"
"It was not much of a show, if I may judge by the amount of enthusiasm
displayed by the people."
"The triumphs of Validus are always poor things," said Lepus. "He would
rather put ten talents in his belly or on his back than spend one
denarius to amuse the people."
"And the games," asked von Harben, "will they be as poor?"
"They do not amount to much," said Lepus, "We have few criminals
here and as we have to purchase all our slaves, they are too valuable
to waste in this way. Many of the contests are between wild beasts, an
occasional thief or murderer may be pitted against a gladiator, but
for the most part Validus depends upon professional gladiators and
political prisoners--enemies or supposed enemies of Caesar. More often
they are like you and I--victims of the lying and jealous intrigues of
favorites. There are about twenty such in the dungeons now, and they
will furnish the most interesting entertainment of the games."
"And if we are victorious, we are freed?" asked von Harben.
"We shall not be victorious," said Mallius Lepus. "Fulvus Fupus has
seen to that, you may rest assured."
"It is terrible," muttered von Harben.
"You are afraid to die?" asked Mallius Lepus.
"It is not that," said von Harben. "I am thinking of Favonia."
"And well you may," said Mallius Lepus. "My sweet cousin would be
happier dead than married to Fulvus Fupus."
"I feel so helpless," said von Harben. "Not a friend, not even my
faithful body servant, Gabula."
"Oh, that reminds me," exclaimed Lepus. "They were here looking for him
this morning."
"Looking for him? Is he not confined in the dungeon?"
"He was, but he was detailed with other prisoners to prepare the arena
last night, and during the darkness of early morning he is supposed to
have escaped--but be that as it may, they were looking for him."
"Good!" exclaimed von Harben. "I shall feel better just knowing that he
is at large, though there is nothing that he can do for me. Where could
he have gone?"
"Castrum Mare is ill guarded along its waterfront, but the lake itself
and the crocodiles form a barrier as efficacious as many legionaries.
Gabula may have scaled the wall, but the chances are that he is hiding
within the city, protected by other slaves or, possibly, by Septimus
Favonius himself."
"I wish I might feel that the poor, faithful fellow had been able to
escape the country and return to his own people," said von Harben.
Mallius Lepus shook his head. "That is impossible," he said. "Though
you came down over the cliff, he could not return that way, and even if
he could find the pass to the outer world, he would fall into the hands
of the soldiers of Castra Sanguinarius or the black barbarians of their
outer villages. No, there is no chance that Gabula will escape."
The time passed quickly, all too quickly, between the hour that Erich
von Harben was returned to his cell, following his exhibition in the
triumph of Validus Augustus, and the coming of the Colosseum guards to
drive them into the arena.
The Colosseum was packed. The loges of the patricians were filled.
The haughty Caesar of the East sat upon an ornate throne, shaded by a
canopy of purple linen. Septimus Favonius sat with bowed head in his
loge and with him was his wife and Favonia. The girl sat with staring
eyes fixed upon the gateway from which the contestants were emerging.
She saw her cousin, Mallius Lepus, emerge and with him Erich von
Harben, and she shuddered and closed her eyes for a moment.
When she opened them again the column was forming and the contestants
were marched across the white sands to receive the commands of Caesar.
With Mallius Lepus and von Harben marched the twenty political
prisoners, all of whom were of the patrician class. Then came the
professional gladiators--coarse, brutal men, whose business it was to
kill or be killed. Leading these, with a bold swagger, was one who had
been champion gladiator of Castrum Mare for five years. If the people
had an idol, it was he. They roared their approval of him. "Claudius
Taurus! Claudius Taurus!" rose above a babel of voices. A few mean
thieves, some frightened slaves, and a half dozen lions completed the
victims that were to make a Roman holiday.
Erich von Harben had often been fascinated by the stories of the games
of ancient Rome. Often had he pictured the Colosseum packed with its
thousands and the contestants upon the white sand of the arena, but
now he realized that they had been but pictures--but the photographs
of his imagination. The people in those dreams had been but picture
people--automatons, who move only when we look at them. When there had
been action on the sand the audience had been a silent etching, and
when the audience had roared and turned its thumbs down the actors had
been mute and motionless.
How different, this! He saw the constant motion in the packed stands,
the mosaic of a thousand daubs of color that became kaleidoscopic with
every move of the multitude. He heard the hum of voices and sensed the
offensive odor of many human bodies. He saw the hawkers and vendors
passing along the aisles shouting their wares. He saw the legionaries
stationed everywhere. He saw the rich in their canopied loges and the
poor in the hot sun of the cheap seats.
Sweat was trickling down the back of the neck of the patrician marching
just in front of him. He glanced at Claudius Taurus. He saw that his
tunic was faded and that his hairy legs were dirty. He had always
thought of gladiators as clean-limbed and resplendent. Claudius Taurus
shocked him.
As they formed in solid rank before the loge of Caesar, von Harben
smelled the black men pressing close behind him. The air was hot and
oppressive. The whole thing was disgusting. There was no grandeur to
it, no dignity. He wondered if it had been like this in Rome.
And then he looked up into the loge of Caesar. He saw the man in
gorgeous robes, sitting upon his carved throne. He saw naked blacks
swaying long-handled fans of feathers above the head of Caesar. He saw
large men in gorgeous tunics and cuirasses of shining gold. He saw the
wealth and pomp and circumstance of power, and something told him that
after all ancient Rome had probably been much as this was--that its
populace had smelled and that its gladiators had had hairy legs with
dirt on them and that its patricians had sweated behind the ears.
Perhaps Validus Augustus was as great a Caesar as any of them, for did
he not rule half of his known world? Few of them had done more than
this.
His eyes wandered along the row of loges. The praefect of the games was
speaking and von Harben heard his voice, but the words did not reach
his brain, for his eyes had suddenly met those of a girl.
He saw the anguish and hopeless horror in her face and he tried to
smile as he looked at her, a smile of encouragement and hope, but she
only saw the beginning of the smile, for the tears came and the image
of the man she loved was only a dull blur like the pain in her heart.
A movement in the stands behind the loges attracted von Harben's
eyes and he puckered his brows, straining his faculties to assure
himself that he must be mistaken, but he was not. What he had seen was
Gabula--he was moving toward the imperial loge, where he disappeared
behind the hangings that formed the background of Caesar's throne.
Then the praefect ordered them from the arena and as von Harben moved
across the sand he tried to find some explanation of Gabula's presence
there--what errand had brought him to so dangerous a place?
The contestants had traversed but half the width of the arena returning
to their cells when a sudden scream, ringing out behind them, caused
them all to turn. Von Harben saw that the disturbance came from the
imperial loge, but the scene that met his startled gaze seemed too
preposterous to have greater substance than a dream. Perhaps it was
all a dream. Perhaps there was no Castrum Mare. Perhaps there was no
Validus Augustus. Perhaps there was no--ah, but that could not be
true, there was a Favonia and this preposterous thing then that he
was looking at was true too. He saw a black man holding Caesar by the
throat and driving a dagger into his heart with the other, and the
black man was Gabula.
It all happened so quickly and was over so quickly that scarcely had
Caesar's shriek rung through the Colosseum than he lay dead at the
foot of his carved throne, and Gabula, the assassin, in a single leap
had cleared the arena wall and was running across the sand toward von
Harben.
"I have avenged you, Bwana!" cried the black man. "No matter what they
do to you, you are avenged."
A great groan arose from the audience and then a cheer as someone
shouted: "Caesar is dead!"
A hope flashed to the breast of von Harben. He turned and grabbed
Mallius Lepus by the arm. "Caesar is dead," he whispered. "Now is our
chance."
"What do you mean?" demanded Mallius Lepus.
"In the confusion we can escape. We can hide in the city and at night
we can take Favonia with us and go away."
"Where?" asked Mallius Lepus.
"God, I do not know," exclaimed von Harben, "but anywhere would be
better than here, for Fulvus Fupus is Caesar and if we do not save
Favonia tonight, it will be too late."
"You are right," said Mallius Lepus.
"Pass the word to the others," said von Harben. "The more there are
who try to escape the better chance there will be for some of us to
succeed."
The legionaries and their officers as well as the vast multitude could
attend only upon what was happening in the loge of Caesar. So few of
them had seen what really occurred there that as yet there had been no
pursuit of Gabula.
Mallius Lepus turned to the other prisoners. "The gods have been good
to us," he cried. "Caesar is dead and in the confusion we can escape.
Come!"
As Mallius Lepus started on a run toward the gateway that led to the
cells beneath the Colosseum, the shouting prisoners fell in behind him.
Only those of the professional gladiators who were freemen held aloof,
but they made no effort to stop them.
"Good luck!" shouted Claudius Taurus, as von Harben passed him. "Now
if someone would kill Fulvus Fupus we might have a Caesar who is a
Caesar."
The sudden rush of the escaping prisoners so confused and upset the few
guards beneath the Colosseum that they were easily overpowered and a
moment later the prisoners found themselves in the streets of Castrum
Mare.
"Where now?" cried one.
"We must scatter," and Mallius Lepus. "Each man for himself."
"We shall stick together, Mallius Lepus," said von Harben.
"To the end," replied the Roman.
"And here is Gabula," said von Harben, as the black joined them. "He
shall come with us."
"We cannot desert the brave Gabula," said Mallius Lepus, "but the first
thing for us to do is to find a hiding-place."
"There is a low wall across the avenue," said von Harben, "and there
are trees beyond it."
"Come, then," said Mallius Lepus. "It is as good for now as any other
place."
The three men hurried across the avenue and scaled the low wall,
finding themselves in a garden so overgrown with weeds and underbrush
that they at once assumed that it was deserted. Creeping through the
weeds and forcing their way through the underbrush, they came to the
rear of a house. A broken door, hanging by one hinge, windows from
which the wooden blinds had fallen, an accumulation of rubbish upon the
threshold marked the dilapidated structure as a deserted house.
"Perhaps this is just the place for us to hide until night," said von
Harben.
"Its proximity to the Colosseum is its greatest advantage," said
Mallius Lepus, "for they will be sure to believe that we have rushed as
far from our dungeon as we could. Let us go in and investigate. We must
be sure that the place is uninhabited."
The rear room, which had been the kitchen, had a crumbling brick
oven in one corner, a bench and a dilapidated table. Crossing the
kitchen, they entered an apartment beyond and saw that these two tombs
constituted all that there was to the house. The front room was large
and as the blinds at the windows facing the avenue had not fallen,
it was dark within it. In one corner they saw a ladder reaching to
a trap-door in the ceiling, which evidently led to the roof of the
building, and two or three feet below the ceiling and running entirely
across the end of the room where the ladder arose was a false ceiling,
which formed a tiny loft just below the roof-beams, a place utilized
by former tenants as a storage-room. A more careful examination of the
room revealed nothing more than a pile of filthy rags against one wall,
the remains perhaps of some homeless beggar's bed.
"It could not have been better," said Mallius Lepus, "if this had been
built for us. Why, we have three exits if we are hard pressed--one into
the back garden, one into the avenue in front, and the third to the
roof."
"We can remain in safety, then," said von Harben, "until after dark,
when it should be easy to make our way unseen through the dark streets
to the home of Septimus Favonius."
_Chapter Twenty-two_
East along the Via Mare from Castra Sanguinarius marched five thousand
men. The white plumes of the Waziri nodded at the back of Tarzan.
Stalwart legionaries followed Maximus Praeclarus, while the black
warriors of the outer villages brought up the rear.
Sweating slaves dragged catapults, ballistae, testudones, huge
battering-rams, and other ancient engines of war. There were scaling
ladders and wall hooks and devices for throwing fire balls into the
defenses of an enemy. The heavy engines had delayed the march and
Tarzan had chafed at the delay, but he had to listen to Maximus
Praeclarus and Cassius Hasta and Caecilius Metellus, all of whom had
assured him that the fort, which defended the only road to Castrum
Mare, could not be taken by assault without the aid of these mechanical
engines of war.
Along the hot and dusty Via Mare the Waziri swung, chanting the
war-songs of their people. The hardened legionaries, their heavy
helmets dangling against their breasts from cords that passed about
their necks, their packs on forked sticks across their shoulders,
their great oblong shields hanging in their leather covers at their
backs, cursed and grumbled as became veterans, while the warriors from
the outer villages laughed and sang and chattered as might a party of
picnickers.
As they approached the fort with its moat and embankment and palisade
and towers, slaves were bearing the body of Validus Augustus to his
palace within the city, and Fulvus Fupus, surrounded by fawning
sycophants, was proclaiming himself Caesar, though he trembled inwardly
in contemplation of what fate might lie before him--for though he was
a fool he knew that he was not popular and that many a noble patrician
with a strong following had a better right to the imperial purple than
he.
Throughout the city of Castrum Mare legionaries searched for the
escaped prisoners and especially for the black slave who had struck
down Validus Augustus, though they were handicapped by the fact that no
one had recognized Gabula, for there were few in the city and certainly
none in the entourage of Caesar who was familiar with the face of the
black from distant Urambi.
A few of the thieves and five or six gladiators, who were condemned
felons and not freemen, had clung together in the break for freedom and
presently they found themselves in hiding in a low part of the city, in
a den where wine could be procured and where there were other forms of
entertainment for people of their class.
"What sort of a Caesar will this Fulvus Fupus make?" asked one.
"He will be worse than Validus Augustus," said another. "I have seen
him in the Baths where I once worked. He is vain and dull and ignorant;
even the patricians hate him."
"They say he is going to marry the daughter of Septimus Favonius."
"I saw her in the Colosseum today," said another. "I know her well by
sight, for she used to come to the shop of my father and make purchases
before I was sent to the dungeons."
"Have you ever been to the house of Septimus Favonius?" asked another.
"Yes, I have," said the youth. "Twice I took goods there for her
inspection, going through the forecourt and into the inner garden. I
know the place well."
"If one like her should happen to fall into the hands of a few poor
convicts they might win their freedom and a great ransom," suggested a
low-browed fellow with evil, cunning eyes.
"And be drawn asunder by wild oxen for their pains."
"We must die anyway if we are caught."
"It is a good plan."
They drank again for several minutes in silence, evidencing that the
plan was milling in their minds.
"The new Caesar should pay an enormous ransom for his bride."
The youth rose eagerly to his feet. "I will lead you to the home of
Septimus Favonius and guarantee that they will open the gate for me and
let me in, as I know what to say. All I need is a bundle and I will
tell the slave that it contains goods that my father wishes Favonia to
inspect."
"You are not such a fool as you look."
"No, and I shall have a large share of the ransom for my part in it,"
said the youth.
"If there is any ransom, we shall share and share alike."
* * * * *
Night was falling as Tarzan's army halted before the defenses of
Castrum Mare. Cassius Hasta, to whom the reduction of the fort had
been entrusted, disposed his forces and supervised the placing of his
various engines of war.
Within the city Erich von Harben and Mallius Lepus discussed the
details of their plans. It was the judgment of Lepus to wait until
after midnight before making any move to leave their hiding-place.
"The streets will be deserted then," said Mallius Lepus, "except for an
occasional patrol upon the principal avenue, and these may be easily
eluded, since the torches that they carry proclaim their approach long
before there is any danger of their apprehending us. I have the key
to the gate of my uncle's garden, which insures that we may enter the
grounds silently and unobserved."
"Perhaps you are right," said von Harben, "but I dread the long wait
and the thought of further inaction seems unbearable."
"Have patience, my friend," said Mallius Lepus. "Fulvus Fupus will be
too busy with his new Caesarship to give heed to aught else for some
time, and Favonia will be safe from him, certainly for the next few
hours at least."
And as they discussed the matter, a youth knocked upon the door of the
home of Septimus Favonius. Beneath the shadow of the trees along the
wall darker shadows crouched. A slave bearing a lamp came to the door
in answer to the knocking and, speaking through a small grille, asked
who was without and what the nature of his business.
"I am the son of Tabernarius," said the youth. "I have brought fabrics
from the shop of my father that the daughter of Septimus Favonius may
inspect them."
The slave hesitated.
"You must remember me," said the youth. "I have been here often," and
the slave held the light a little bit higher and peered through the
grille.
"Yes," he said, "your face is familiar. I will go and ask my mistress
if she wishes to see you. Wait here."
"These fabrics are valuable," said the youth, holding up a bundle,
which he carried under his arm. "Let me stand just within the vestibule
lest thieves set upon me and rob me."
"Very well," said the slave, and opening the gate he permitted the
youth to enter. "Remain here until I return."
As the slave disappeared into the interior of the house, the son of
Tabernarius turned quickly and withdrew the bolt that secured the
door. Opening it quickly, he leaned out to voice a low signal.
Instantly the denser shadows beneath the shadowy trees moved and were
resolved into the figures of men. Scurrying like vermin, they hurried
through the doorway and into the home of Septimus Favonius, and into
the anteroom off the vestibule the son of Tabernarius hustled them.
Then he closed both doors and waited.
Presently the slave returned. "The daughter of Septimus Favonius
recalls having ordered no goods from Tabernarius," he said, "nor does
she feel in any mood to inspect fabrics this night. Return them to your
father and tell him that when the daughter of Septimus Favonius wishes
to purchase she will come herself to his shop."
Now this was not what the son of Tabernarius desired and he racked his
crafty brain for another plan, though to the slave he appeared but a
stupid youth, staring at the floor in too much embarrassment even to
take his departure.
"Come," said the slave, approaching the door and laying hold of the
bolt, "you must be going."
"Wait," whispered the youth. "I have a message for Favonia. I did not
wish anyone to know it and for that reason I spoke of bringing fabrics
as an excuse."
"Where is the message and from whom?" demanded the slave, suspiciously.
"It is for her ears only. Tell her this and she will know from whom it
is."
The slave hesitated.
"Fetch her here," said the youth. "It will be better that no other
member of the household sees me."
The slave shook his head. "I will tell her," he said, for he knew that
Mallius Lepus and Erich von Harben had escaped from the Colosseum and
he guessed that the message might be from one of these. As he hastened
back to his mistress the son of Tabernarius smiled, for though he knew
not enough of Favonia to know from whom she might reasonably expect a
secret message, yet he knew there were few young women who might not,
at least hopefully, expect a clandestine communication. He had not
long to wait before the slave returned and with him came Favonia. Her
excitement was evident as she hastened eagerly forward toward the youth.
"Tell me," she cried, "you have brought word from him."
The son of Tabernarius raised a forefinger to his lip to caution her to
silence. "No one must know that I am here," he whispered, "and no ears
but yours may hear my message. Send your slave away."
"You may go," said Favonia to the slave. "I will let the young man
out when he goes," and the slave, glad to be dismissed, content to be
relieved of responsibility, moved silently away into the shadows of a
corridor and thence into that uncharted limbo into which pass slaves
and other lesser people when one has done with them.
"Tell me," cried the girl, "what word do you bring? Where is he?"
"He is here," whispered the youth, pointing to the anteroom.
"Here?" exclaimed Favonia, incredulously.
"Yes, here," said the youth. "Come," and he led her to the door and as
she approached it he seized her suddenly and, clapping a hand over her
mouth, dragged her into the dark anteroom beyond.
Rough hands seized her quickly and she was gagged and bound. She heard
them converse in low whispers.
"We will separate here," said one. "Two of us will take her to the
place we have selected. One of you will have to leave the note for
Fulvus Fupus so the palace guards will find it. The rest of you scatter
and go by different routes to the deserted house across from the
Colosseum. Do you know the place?"
"I know it well. Many is the night that I have slept there."
"Very well," said the first speaker, who seemed to be the leader, "now
be off. We have no time to waste."
"Wait," said the son of Tabernarius, "the division of the ransom has
not yet been decided. Without me you could have done nothing. I should
have at least half."
"Shut up or you will be lucky if you get anything," growled the leader.
"A knife between his ribs would do him good," muttered another.
"You will not give me what I asked?" demanded the youth.
"Shut up," said the leader. "Come along now, men," and carrying
Favonia, whom they wrapped in a soiled and ragged cloak, they left the
home of Septimus Favonius unobserved; and as two men carried a heavy
bundle through the dark shadows beneath the shadowy trees the son of
Tabernarius started away in the opposite direction....
A youth in soiled and ragged tunic and rough sandals approached the
gates of Caesar's palace. A legionary challenged him, holding him at a
distance with the point of his pike.
"What do you loitering by the palace of Caesar by night?" demanded the
legionary.
"I have a message for Caesar," replied the youth.
The legionary guffawed. "Will you come in or shall I send Caesar out to
you?" he demanded, ironically.
"You may take the message to him yourself, soldier," replied the other,
"and if you know what is good for you, you will not delay."
The seriousness of the youth's voice finally compelled the attention of
the legionary. "Well," he demanded, "out with it. What message have you
for Caesar?"
"Hasten to him and tell him that the daughter of Septimus Favonius has
been abducted and that if he hastens he will find her in the deserted
house that stands upon the corner opposite the chariot entrance to the
Colosseum."
"Who are you?" demanded the legionary.
"Never mind," said the youth. "Tomorrow I shall come for my reward,"
and he turned and sped away before the legionary could detain him.
* * * * *
"At this rate midnight will never come," said von Harben.
Mallius Lepus laid a hand upon the shoulder of his friend. "You are
impatient, but remember that it will be safer for Favonia, as well as
for us, if we wait until after midnight, for the streets now must be
full of searchers. All afternoon we have heard soldiers passing. It is
a miracle that they have not searched this place."
"Ps-st!" cautioned von Harben. "What was that?"
"It sounded like the creaking of the gate in front of the house," said
Mallius Lepus.
"They are coming," said von Harben.
The three men seized the swords with which they had armed themselves,
after they had rushed the Colosseum guard, and following a plan they
had already decided upon in the event that searchers approached their
hiding-place, they scaled the ladder and crept out upon the roof.
Leaving the trap-door pushed slightly to one side, they listened to the
sounds that were now coming from below, ready to take instant action
should there be any indication that the searchers might mount the
ladder to the roof.
Von Harben heard voices coming from below. "Well, we made it," said
one, "and no one saw us. Here come the others now," and von Harben
heard the gate creak again on its rusty hinges; then the door of the
house opened and he heard several people enter.
"This is a good night's work," said one.
"Is she alive? I cannot hear her breathe."
"Take the gag from her mouth."
"And let her scream for help?"
"We can keep her quiet. She is worth nothing to us dead."
"All right, take it out."
"Listen you, we will take the gag out of your mouth, but if you scream
it will be the worse for you."
"I shall not scream," said a woman's voice in familiar tones that set
von Harben's heart to palpitating, though he knew that it was nothing
more than his imagination that suggested the seeming familiarity.
"We shall not hurt you," said the man's voice, "if you keep quiet and
Caesar sends the ransom."
"And if he does not send it?" asked the girl.
"Then, perhaps, your father, Septimus Favonius, will pay the price we
ask."
"Heavens!" muttered von Harben. "Did you hear that, Lepus?"
"I heard," replied the Roman.
"Then come," whispered von Harben. "Come, Gabula, Favonia is below."
Casting discretion to the wind, von Harben tore the trap from the
opening in the roof and dropped into the darkness below, followed by
Mallius Lepus and Gabula.
"Favonia!" he cried. "It is I. Where are you?"
"Here," cried the girl.
Rushing blindly in the direction of her voice, von Harben encountered
one of the abductors. The fellow grappled with him, while, terrified
by fear that the legionaries were upon them, the others bolted from
the building. As they went they left the door open and the light of a
full moon dissipated the darkness of the interior, revealing von Harben
struggling with a burly fellow who had seized the other's throat and
was now trying to draw his dagger from its sheath.
Instantly Mallius Lepus and Gabula were upon him, and a quick thrust of
the former's sword put a definite period to the earthly rascality of
the criminal. Free from his antagonist, von Harben leaped to his feet
and ran to Favonia, where she lay upon a pile of dirty rags against the
wall. Quickly he cut her bonds and soon they had her story.
"If you are no worse for the fright," said Mallius Lepus, "we may thank
these scoundrels for simplifying our task, for here we are ready to try
for our escape a full three hours earlier than we had hoped."
"Let us lose no time, then," said von Harben, "I shall not breathe
freely until I am across the wall."
"I believe we have little to fear now," said Mallius Lepus. "The wall
is poorly guarded. There are many places where we can scale it, and
I know a dozen places where we can find boats that are used by the
fishermen of the city. What lies beyond is upon the knees of the gods."
Gabula, who had been standing in the doorway, closed the door quickly
and crossed to von Harben. "Lights are coming down the avenue, Bwana,"
he said. "I think many men are coming. Perhaps they are soldiers."
The four listened intently until they made out distinctly the measured
tread of marching men.
"Some more searchers," said Mallius Lepus. "When they have passed on
their way, it will be safe to depart."
The light from the torches of the legionaries approached until it shone
through the cracks in the wooden blinds, but it did not pass on as they
had expected. Mallius Lepus put an eye to an opening in one of the
blinds.
"They have halted in front of the house," he said. "A part of them are
turning the corner, but the rest are remaining."
They stood in silence for what seemed a long time, though it was only a
few minutes, and then they heard sounds coming from the garden behind
the house and the light of torches was visible through the open kitchen
door.
"We are surrounded," said Lepus. "They are coming in the front way.
They are going to search the house."
"What shall we do?" cried Favonia.
"The roof is our only hope," whispered von Harben, but even as he spoke
the sound of sandaled feet was heard upon the roof and the light of
torches shone through the open trap.
"We are lost," said Mallius Lepus. "We cannot defeat an entire century
of legionaries."
"We can fight them, though," said von Harben.
"And risk Favonia's life uselessly?" said Lepus.
"You are right," said von Harben, sadly, and then, "Wait, I have a
plan. Come, Favonia, quickly. Lie down here upon the floor and I will
cover you with these rags. There is no reason why we should all be
taken. Mallius Lepus, Gabula, and I may not escape, but they will
never guess that you are here, and when they are gone you can easily
make your way to the guardhouse in the Colosseum, where the officer in
charge will see that you are given protection and an escort to your
home."
"Let them take me," said the girl. "If you are to be captured, let me
be captured also."
"It will do no good," said von Harben. "They will only separate us,
and if you are found here with us it may bring suspicion upon Septimus
Favonius."
Without further argument she threw herself upon the floor, resigned
in the face of von Harben's argument, and he covered her over with the
rags that had been a beggar's bed.
_Chapter Twenty-three_
By the time that Cassius Hasta had disposed his forces and placed his
engines of war before the defenses of Castrum Mare, he discovered
that it was too dark to open his assault that day, but he could carry
out another plan that he had and so he advanced toward the gate,
accompanied by Tarzan, Metellus, and Praeclarus and preceded by
torch-bearers and a legionary bearing a flag of truce.
Within the fort great excitement had reigned from the moment that the
advancing troops had been sighted. Word had been sent to Fulvus Fupus
and reënforcements had been hurried to the fort. It was assumed by
all that Sublatus had inaugurated a new raid upon a larger scale than
usual, but they were ready to meet it, nor did they anticipate defeat.
As the officer commanding the defenders saw the party approaching with
a flag of truce, he demanded from a tower gate the nature of their
mission.
"I have two demands to make upon Validus Augustus," said Cassius Hasta.
"One is that he free Mallius Lepus and Erich von Harben and the other
is that he permit me to return to Castrum Mare and enjoy the privileges
of my station."
"Who are you?" demanded the officer.
"I am Cassius Hasta. You should know me well."
"The gods are good!" cried the officer.
"Long live Cassius Hasta! Down with Fulvus Fupus!" cried a hoarse
chorus of rough voices.
Someone threw open the gates, and the officer, an old friend of Cassius
Hasta, rushed out and embraced him.
"What is the meaning of all this?" demanded Cassius Hasta. "What has
happened?"
"Validus Augustus is dead. He was assassinated at the games today and
Fulvus Fupus has assumed the title of Caesar. You are indeed come in
time. All Castrum Mare will welcome you."
Along the Via Mare from the castle to the lakeshore and across the
pontoon bridge to the island marched the army of the new Emperor of the
East, while the news spread through the city and crowds gathered and
shrieked their welcome to Cassius Hasta.
* * * * *
In a deserted house across the avenue from the Colosseum four fugitives
awaited the coming of the legionaries of Fulvus Fupus. It was evident
that the soldiers intended to take no chances. They entirely surrounded
the building and they seemed to be in no hurry to enter.
Von Harben had had ample time to cover Favonia with the rags, so
that she was entirely concealed before the legionaries entered
simultaneously from the garden, the avenue, and the roof, torch-bearers
lighting their way.
"It is useless to resist," said Mallius Lepus to the officer who
accompanied the men in from the avenue. "We will return to the dungeons
peaceably."
"Not so fast," said the officer. "Where is the girl?"
"What girl?" demanded Mallius Lepus.
"The daughter of Septimus Favonius, of course."
"How should we know?" demanded von Harben.
"You abducted her and brought her here," replied the officer. "Search
the room," he commanded, and a moment later a legionary uncovered
Favonia and raised her to her feet.
The officer laughed as he ordered the three men disarmed.
"Wait," said von Harben. "What are you going to do with the daughter
of Septimus Favonius? Will you see that she has a safe escort to her
father's house?"
"I am taking my orders from Caesar," replied the officer.
"What has Caesar to do with this?" demanded von Harben.
"He has ordered us to bring Favonia to the palace and to slay her
abductors upon the spot."
"Then Caesar shall pay for us all with legionaries," cried von Harben,
and with his sword he fell upon the officer in the doorway, while
Gabula and Mallius Lepus, spurred by a similar determination to sell
their lives as dearly as possible, rushed those who were descending the
ladder and entering the kitchen door. Taken by surprise and momentarily
disconcerted by the sudden and unexpected assault, the legionaries fell
back. The officer, who managed to elude von Harben's thrust, escaped
from the building and summoned a number of the legionaries who were
armed with pikes.
"There are three men in that room," he said, "and a woman. Kill the
men, but be sure that the woman is not harmed."
In the avenue the officer saw people running; heard them shouting. He
saw them stop as they were questioned by some of his legionaries, whom
he had left in the avenue. He had not given the final order for his
pikemen to enter the building because his curiosity had momentarily
distracted his attention. As he turned now, however, to order them in,
his attention was again distracted by a tumult of voices that rose in
great cheers and rolled up the avenue from the direction of the bridge
that connects the city with the Via Mare and the fort. As he turned to
look, he saw the flare of many torches and now he heard the blare of
trumpets and the thud of marching feet.
What had happened? He had known, as had everyone in Castrum Mare, that
the forces of Sublatus were camped before the fort, but he knew that
there had been no battle and so this could not be the army of Sublatus
entering Castrum Mare, but it was equally strange if the defenders of
Castrum Mare should be marching away from the fort while it was menaced
by an enemy army. He could not understand these things, nor could he
understand why the people were cheering.
As he stood there watching the approach of the marching column, the
shouts of the people took on form and he heard the name of Cassius
Hasta distinctly.
"What has happened?" he demanded, shouting to the men in the street.
"Cassius Hasta has returned at the head of a big army, and Fulvus Fupus
has already fled and is in hiding."
The shouted question and the equally loud reply were heard by all
within the room.
"We are saved," cried Mallius Lepus, "for Cassius Hasta will harm no
friend of Septimus Favonius. Aside now, you fools, if you know when you
are well off," and he advanced toward the doorway.
"Back, men," cried the officer. "Back to the avenue. Let no hand be
raised against Mallius Lepus or these other friends of Cassius Hasta,
Emperor of the East."
"I guess this fellow knows which side his bread is buttered on,"
commented von Harben, with a grin.
Together Favonia, von Harben, Lepus, and Gabula stepped from the
deserted building into the avenue. Approaching them they saw the head
of a column of marching men; flaming torches lighted the scene until it
was almost as bright as day.
"There is Cassius Hasta," exclaimed Mallius Lepus. "It is indeed he,
but who are those with him?"
"They must be Sanguinarians," said Favonia. "But look, one of them is
garbed like a barbarian, and see the strange, black warriors with their
white plumes that are marching behind them."
"I have never seen the like in all my life," exclaimed Mallius Lepus.
"Neither have I," said von Harben, "but I am sure that I recognize
them, for their fame is great and they answer the description that I
have heard a thousand times."
"Who are they?" asked Favonia.
"The white giant is Tarzan of the Apes, and the black warriors are his
Waziri fighting men."
At sight of the legionaries standing before the house, Cassius Hasta
halted the column.
"Where is the centurion in command of these troops?" he demanded.
"It is I, glorious Caesar," replied the officer, who had come to arrest
the abductors of Favonia.
"Does it happen that you are one of the detachments sent out by Fulvus
Fupus to search for Mallius Lepus and the barbarian, von Harben?"
"We are here, Caesar," cried Mallius Lepus, while Favonia, von Harben,
and Gabula followed behind him.
"May the gods be praised!" exclaimed Cassius Hasta, as he embraced his
old friend. "But where is the barbarian chieftain from Germania, whose
fame has reached even to Castra Sanguinarius?"
"This is he," said Mallius Lepus, "This is Erich von Harben."
Tarzan stepped nearer. "You are Erich von Harben?" he asked in English.
"And you are Tarzan of the Apes, I know," returned von Harben, in the
same language.
"You look every inch a Roman," said Tarzan with a smile.
"I feel every inch a barbarian, however," grinned von Harben.
"Roman or barbarian, your father will be glad when I bring you back to
him."
"You came here in search of me, Tarzan of the Apes?" demanded von
Harben.
"And I seem to have arrived just in time," said the ape-man.
"How can I ever thank you?" exclaimed von Harben.
"Do not thank me, my friend," said the ape-man. "Thank little Nkima!"