At the Queen's Mercy

Now I had gone from Astolba in the full belief that she had dreamed this thing, yet such is the strangeness of life, an hour had not passed by, when I gave fullest credence both to her story and her danger. For in that hour the mask of womanly gentleness had dropped from the Queen, and with it, the blindness from my eyes. I saw, as long ago I should have seen, had the charm of her great beauty been less, that the Palace of the Walled City was no fit resting-place, and that there was a brave man’s work to be done, and by me.

Astolba’s story had made me a little late, and Lah loved not to wait the coming of either subject or lover. A dozen slave girls were seated on a rug in the room’s centre; as I took my tardy place beside the Queen, they, at the royal word, began a love chant that was strangely sweet and plaintive. Perhaps I praised their voices over much; perhaps the jealous humor that had seized their mistress had not yet been spent. However this may be, I know the musicians were, at a word, dismissed, while, at Lah’s command, one of the slaves attending on the Queen’s person took the vacant place.

Soft strains of wild, sad music came from a room beyond, and at the royal signal the girl began to dance. Hers was a slender, jewelled figure, and it floated hither and thither, like some gaudy tropical blossom blown by the wind. Her whole body responded to the half-savage harmonies; her arms wreathed themselves to the measures of the melody; her bracelets and anklets tinkled as she swayed.

Then as the strains grew wilder, discordant and yet strangely sweet, I know not how it happened, but the veil that covered the girl’s face was thrown back. I saw that she was beautiful, despite her red-bronze skin; saw for an instant only, it is true, but in that instant the Queen beside me was changed from a woman to a wild beast that springs upon its prey.

At the first words I saw the poor girl sink before the feet of Lah, in a mute agony of supplication and of fear,—while from behind the throne two burly blacks came forth to do the Queen’s bidding. I do not know how I had wit to use the words I did. Perhaps Astolba’s story furnished me the key. But I will say that never was human life in more deadly peril. I thank Heaven that I have not its ending, in some measure, to lay at my door. Trembling from head to foot the maid passed from the royal presence, to disgrace and imprisonment indeed, but not to death.

The sound of her weeping had not died away before Lah had become her same, sweet, gentle self of the last five days. But I had seen that which could not be forgotten. Astolba’s anguish was branded upon my mind. Her white face came between the Queen and me, yet I had learned dark wisdom in that same Palace, and I think I showed not the change that had come upon me.

Nevertheless, I turned over and over in my mind every device that could lead to freedom. But I had now to guard against an enemy more potent and subtle than Agno or any of his priest-ridden mob. I walked slowly, with bent head, towards the women’s apartments, and there was little profit in my musing.

Then the thought came to me to match Astolba’s wit against the Queen’s; and even, as half-smiling I pondered the conceit, a hand fell lightly on my arm, and there before me stood the maid herself.

Now the mild sweetness, even the fears of my gentle fellow-captive held for me a new charm in the light of the tigress’s fury of her whose side I had but lately left. It won me the more that she should lean on me. And remorse burned within me that I had laughed at her terrors and left her, hardly more than an hour since, in heaviness of spirit, well nigh in tears.

So I took in my two great hands her little one, and it nestled unresisting but trembling like a bird ensnared by the fowler. Then I looked into the depths of her innocent eyes, and they drew me nearer with a strange power. So near that my lips had in another moment touched hers, and the words that began “Forgive me”—ended with “I love you.”

It was pretty to see the pink roses bloom again in that sweet face, raised in perfect trust to mine, and to myself I swore that, come what might, I would do a man’s part to keep them there.

“Where is Lestrade?” I asked, and Astolba looking up, I added, “because we prisoners must hold a counsel. I have seen that which makes this Palace no fit shelter for my future wife.”

At this she blushed, but after a few moments’ dalliance the seriousness of my business urged me to action, and at my repeated question Astolba drew me to a further room, where sat my comrade.

I greeted him with frankness as is my way, and because we had been more like brothers than mere friends, I told him bluntly at once of the good-fortune that had befallen me.

It grieved me then, the more that I had so little expected it, that Lestrade should act as he did. For at my first words the smile left his face, and with one long, and I could have sworn reproachful, look at Astolba, he rushed by me and was gone.

The maid, too, was strangely pale again. Well, I was hurt and puzzled also. Astolba I could see had felt deeply the manner in which Gaston had treated my announcement. But it was no time for idle questioning. The hour to act had struck, and I passed over, in silence, my friend’s new mood, and bade Astolba think on that which should best lead to our escape.

And with a woman’s instinct she put her finger at once upon the plan most like to aid us.

I had spoken of the dangers round about, and of the new and great danger that was ours in acting thus in secret without the knowledge of the Queen.

“In all this city we have not a friend,” I said, when she with a new impatience and insufficient deference cut short the thread of my discourse.

“You have one both willing and powerful. Zobo, the Captain of the Queen’s guard, shall aid us.”

“Zobo!” cried I, in amazement at her folly. “Zobo! the best friend of Lah!”

“And so yours,” she answered. “Can it be you have not seen? He loves the Queen. He fears you as he fears not death. And he is a true man. He will find a way to lead us from the Palace, yet neither will he deliver us to the mob without. Have speech with him at once. For your friend Gaston Lestrade, have no fear. Make your plan, and tell me but the time and place and manner of your going. He and I will follow.”

It was thus Astolba spoke, and there was so much wit in what she said, and so much new-born energy and strength in the manner of the saying, that I was convinced of the justice of her words.

Thus she left me, going out by the door through which Lestrade had fled, while I turned my steps to the guard-room of the Palace. Here a piece of good-luck awaited me, for I found Zobo, and alone.

He looked not over pleased at my coming, but with grave courtesy bade me sit.

Then I, with what craft I might, began the task before me, and Zobo stood after the first few words motionless,—a giant statue of bronze. Only his eyes were alive, and they glowed with a strange and savage fire.

When my plan began to unfold, I saw him start, and the great corded muscles of his bare arms knotted as his hands gripped tight the rod of metal that he held. When his fingers relaxed their hold, I saw that he had bent the inch-wide bar, as a child bends a pliant twig. But I was then in the midst of my discourse, and could not be turned aside by trifles.

When I had done, there was silence, the kind of silence that a man feels, like to that which comes upon the face of nature before the tempest breaks. I saw that but a very little thing was needed to turn the unfailing loyalty of the man into its accustomed channel. Then we should be dragged before the Queen to meet the reward of our treachery, for such would be our attempted escape in the eyes of her who reigned over the Walled City. Of that I had no single doubt.

Perhaps a man grows used to danger. Perhaps my nerves were dulled by what had gone before. At least, I can say this with truth, I thought in that moment more on the pattern of the rug at my feet than on the chance of life or death that trembled in the balance. The crucial moment passed. Love triumphed. Zobo was ours.

An hour later I had left the place. We were to make the attempt that night,—Lestrade and myself disguised as priests, and Astolba dressed as a singing-boy attached to Edba’s Temple. According to a blessed, if heathenish, custom, we could go veiled. We should leave the Palace by one of the many-tangled secret ways beneath it. The entrance to this, as to all, was of course guarded, but Zobo held the Queen’s warrant, and with that we might hope to pass.

Once in the City, a friendly guide should meet us. We should be to him inmates of the royal household fallen under Lah’s displeasure, to be saved by Zobo’s contrivance. We were to make our way through our foes as best we might, protected by our priestly garb, and wait in hiding in a deserted hut to which our guide would conduct us. There we should be left. And then it was that Zobo showed the greatest proof of friendship. He held with the Queen alone the knowledge of a hidden door within the City’s wall. One by one, we three swore by all that was sacred never to reveal the secret.

Through this door we were to pass, and once without, the wilderness stretched before us. Save for famine, drouth, wild beasts, and roaming savages, we should be safe.

It was a wild and perilous enterprise, but we caught at it with eagerness. The very air of the Palace had grown heavy in my nostrils. I longed for freedom, as a shipwrecked mariner dying of thirst longs for water. Despite the thousand risks we ran, my heart beat high with hope. In secret I helped to pack the little store of food and drink that we were to take with us, and with due care I made our choice of weapons.

Then the hour came. The common danger knit us all closer together. Lestrade and I once more, as in the old days, clasped hands and wished each other luck. Astolba moved before us clad all in white. Zobo the Mighty led the way, his flickering torch casting grotesque shadows on the walls and floor of the underground passage. Sometimes this corridor narrowed suddenly, so that we had to crawl beast-like upon all fours for as much as fifty paces; then it arched high above our heads. I think we were all three captives strangely lighthearted. There was no presentiment of evil. We reached the outer entrance in safety, and in safety passed.

Smoothly, as runs a play, we escaped the multiform dangers that beset our every step. The guide was not too curious; the people of the Walled City gave way with respect before our priestly garments.

We found the hut without misadventure; and his duty done, our guide departed. A little later we had passed from its friendly shelter. A double line of overhanging trees screened us from the curious, but indeed, at that hour, there was none to question us. We were in an old garden, and it reached well-nigh to the City wall. When the sentinel should have passed, we in turn would step from beneath the shadow of the trees, and then the opened door and freedom!

My blood pulsed fast in my veins at the thought. I heard the guard go slowly onward. I whispered to Lestrade, “The White Dove has brought us liberty.”

Then I stepped out from the tree’s shelter, and at the same moment something dropped from the branches above my head. Two arms gripped me about the throat and a hoarse chuckle sounded in my ears.

“I am thy friend Hubla,” said the voice. “Back, you three! back to your kennel, or I call the guard!”