CHAPTER XI

THE CHOICE OF TARA

The dazzling sunlight of Barsoom clothed Manator in an aureole of

splendor as the girl and her captors rode into the city through The

Gate of Enemies. Here the wall was some fifty feet thick, and the sides

of the passageway within the gate were covered with parallel shelves of

masonry from bottom to top. Within these shelves, or long, horizontal

niches, stood row upon row of small figures, appearing like tiny,

grotesque statuettes of men, their long, black hair falling below their

feet and sometimes trailing to the shelf beneath. The figures were

scarce a foot in height and but for their diminutive proportions might

have been the mummified bodies of once living men. The girl noticed

that as they passed, the warriors saluted the figures with their spears

after the manner of Barsoomian fighting men in extending a military

courtesy, and then they rode on into the avenue beyond, which ran, wide

and stately, through the city toward the east.

On either side were great buildings wondrously wrought. Paintings of

great beauty and antiquity covered many of the walls, their colors

softened and blended by the suns of ages. Upon the pavement the life of

the newly-awakened city was already afoot. Women in brilliant

trappings, befeathered warriors, their bodies daubed with paint;

artisans, armed but less gaily caparisoned, took their various ways

upon the duties of the day. A giant zitidar, magnificent in rich

harness, rumbled its broad-wheeled cart along the stone pavement toward

The Gate of Enemies. Life and color and beauty wrought together a

picture that filled the eyes of Tara of Helium with wonder and with

admiration, for here was a scene out of the dead past of dying Mars.

Such had been the cities of the founders of her race before Throxeus,

mightiest of oceans, had disappeared from the face of a world. And from

balconies on either side men and women looked down in silence upon the

scene below.

The people in the street looked at the two prisoners, especially at the

hideous Ghek, and called out in question or comment to their guard; but

the watchers upon the balconies spoke not, nor did one so much as turn

a head to note their passing. There were many balconies on each

building and not a one that did not hold its silent party of richly

trapped men and women, with here and there a child or two, but even the

children maintained the uniform silence and immobility of their elders.

As they approached the center of the city the girl saw that even the

roofs bore companies of these idle watchers, harnessed and bejeweled as

for some gala-day of laughter and music, but no laughter broke from

those silent lips, nor any music from the strings of the instruments

that many of them held in jeweled fingers.

And now the avenue widened into an immense square, at the far end of

which rose a stately edifice gleaming white in virgin marble among the

gaily painted buildings surrounding it and its scarlet sward and

gaily-flowering, green-foliaged shrubbery. Toward this U-Dor led his

prisoners and their guard to the great arched entrance before which a

line of fifty mounted warriors barred the way. When the commander of

the guard recognized U-Dor the guardsmen fell back to either side

leaving a broad avenue through which the party passed. Directly inside

the entrance were inclined runways leading upward on either side. U-Dor

turned to the left and led them upward to the second floor and down a

long corridor. Here they passed other mounted men and in chambers upon

either side they saw more. Occasionally there was another runway

leading either up or down. A warrior, his steed at full gallop, dashed

into sight from one of these and raced swiftly past them upon some

errand.

Nowhere as yet had Tara of Helium seen a man afoot in this great

building; but when at a turn, U-Dor led them to the third floor she

caught glimpses of chambers in which many riderless thoats were penned

and others adjoining where dismounted warriors lolled at ease or played

games of skill or chance and many there were who played at jetan, and

then the party passed into a long, wide hall of state, as magnificent

an apartment as even a princess of mighty Helium ever had seen. The

length of the room ran an arched ceiling ablaze with countless radium

bulbs. The mighty spans extended from wall to wall leaving the vast

floor unbroken by a single column. The arches were of white marble,

apparently quarried in single, huge blocks from which each arch was cut

complete. Between the arches, the ceiling was set solid about the

radium bulbs with precious stones whose scintillant fire and color and

beauty filled the whole apartment. The stones were carried down the

walls in an irregular fringe for a few feet, where they appeared to

hang like a beautiful and gorgeous drapery against the white marble of

the wall. The marble ended some six or seven feet from the floor, the

walls from that point down being wainscoted in solid gold. The floor

itself was of marble richly inlaid with gold. In that single room was a

vast treasure equal to the wealth of many a large city.

But what riveted the girl's attention even more than the fabulous

treasure of decorations were the files of gorgeously harnessed warriors

who sat their thoats in grim silence and immobility on either side of

the central aisle, rank after rank of them to the farther walls, and as

the party passed between them she could not note so much as the flicker

of an eyelid, or the twitching of a thoat's ear.

"The Hall of Chiefs," whispered one of her guard, evidently noting her

interest. There was a note of pride in the fellow's voice and something

of hushed awe. Then they passed through a great doorway into the

chamber beyond, a large, square room in which a dozen mounted warriors

lolled in their saddles.

As U-Dor and his party entered the room, the warriors came quickly

erect in their saddles and formed a line before another door upon the

opposite side of the wall. The padwar commanding them saluted U-Dor

who, with his party, had halted facing the guard.

"Send one to O-Tar announcing that U-Dor brings two prisoners worthy of

the observation of the great jeddak," said U-Dor; "one because of her

extreme beauty, the other because of his extreme ugliness."

"O-Tar sits in council with the lesser chiefs," replied the lieutenant;

"but the words of U-Dor the dwar shall be carried to him," and he

turned and gave instructions to one who sat his thoat behind him.

"What manner of creature is the male?" he asked of U-Dor. "It cannot be

that both are of one race."

"They were together in the hills south of the city," explained U-Dor,

"and they say that they are lost and starving."

"The woman is beautiful," said the padwar. "She will not long go

begging in the city of Manator," and then they spoke of other

matters--of the doings of the palace, of the expedition of U-Dor, until

the messenger returned to say that O-Tar bade them bring the prisoners

to him.

They passed then through a massive doorway, which, when opened,

revealed the great council chamber of O-Tar, Jeddak of Manator, beyond.

A central aisle led from the doorway the full length of the great hall,

terminating at the steps of a marble dais upon which a man sat in a

great throne-chair. Upon either side of the aisle were ranged rows of

highly carved desks and chairs of skeel, a hard wood of great beauty.

Only a few of the desks were occupied--those in the front row, just

below the rostrum.

At the entrance U-Dor dismounted with four of his followers who formed

a guard about the two prisoners who were then conducted toward the foot

of the throne, following a few paces behind U-Dor. As they halted at

the foot of the marble steps, the proud gaze of Tara of Helium rested

upon the enthroned figure of the man above her. He sat erect without

stiffness--a commanding presence trapped in the barbaric splendor that

the Barsoomian chieftain loves. He was a large man, the perfection of

whose handsome face was marred only by the hauteur of his cold eyes and

the suggestion of cruelty imparted by too thin lips. It needed no

second glance to assure the least observing that here indeed was a

ruler of men--a fighting jeddak whose people might worship but not

love, and for whose slightest favor warriors would vie with one another

to go forth and die. This was O-Tar, Jeddak of Manator, and as Tara of

Helium saw him for the first time she could not but acknowledge a

certain admiration for this savage chieftain who so virilely

personified the ancient virtues of the God of War.

U-Dor and the jeddak interchanged the simple greetings of Barsoom, and

then the former recounted the details of the discovery and capture of

the prisoners. O-Tar scrutinized them both intently during U-Dor's

narration of events, his expression revealing naught of what passed in

the brain behind those inscrutable eyes. When the officer had finished

the jeddak fastened his gaze upon Ghek.

"And you," he asked, "what manner of thing are you? From what country?

Why are you in Manator?"

"I am a kaldane," replied Ghek; "the highest type of created creature

upon the face of Barsoom; I am mind, you are matter. I come from

Bantoom. I am here because we were lost and starving."

"And you!" O-Tar turned suddenly on Tara. "You, too, are a kaldane?"

"I am a princess of Helium," replied the girl. "I was a prisoner in

Bantoom. This kaldane and a warrior of my own race rescued me. The

warrior left us to search for food and water. He has doubtless fallen

into the hands of your people. I ask you to free him and give us food

and drink and let us go upon our way. I am a granddaughter of a jeddak,

the daughter of a jeddak of jeddaks, The Warlord of Barsoom. I ask only

the treatment that my people would accord you or yours."

"Helium," repeated O-Tar. "I know naught of Helium, nor does the Jeddak

of Helium rule Manator. I, O-Tar, am Jeddak of Manator. I alone rule. I

protect my own. You have never seen a woman or a warrior of Manator

captive in Helium! Why should I protect the people of another jeddak?

It is his duty to protect them. If he cannot, he is weak, and his

people must fall into the hands of the strong. I, O-Tar, am strong. I

will keep you. That--" he pointed at Ghek--"can it fight?"

"It is brave," replied Tara of Helium, "but it has not the skill at

arms which my people possess."

"There is none then to fight for you?" asked O-Tar. "We are a just

people," he continued without waiting for a reply, "and had you one to

fight for you he might win to freedom for himself and you as well."

"But U-Dor assured me that no stranger ever had departed from Manator,"

she answered.

O-Tar shrugged. "That does not disprove the justice of the laws of

Manator," replied O-Tar, "but rather that the warriors of Manator are

invincible. Had there come one who could defeat our warriors that one

had won to liberty."

"And you fetch my warrior," cried Tara haughtily, "you shall see such

swordplay as doubtless the crumbling walls of your decaying city never

have witnessed, and if there be no trick in your offer we are already

as good as free."

O-Tar smiled more broadly than before and U-Dor smiled, too, and the

chiefs and warriors who looked on nudged one another and whispered,

laughing. And Tara of Helium knew then that there was trickery in their

justice; but though her situation seemed hopeless she did not cease to

hope, for was she not the daughter of John Carter, Warlord of Barsoom,

whose famous challenge to Fate, "I still live!" remained the one

irreducible defense against despair? At thought of her noble sire the

patrician chin of Tara of Helium rose a shade higher. Ah! if he but

knew where she was there were little to fear then. The hosts of Helium

would batter at the gates of Manator, the great green warriors of John

Carter's savage allies would swarm up from the dead sea bottoms lusting

for pillage and for loot, the stately ships of her beloved navy would

soar above the unprotected towers and minarets of the doomed city which

only capitulation and heavy tribute could then save.

But John Carter did not know! There was only one other to whom she

might hope to look--Turan the panthan; but where was he? She had seen

his sword in play and she knew that it had been wielded by a master

hand, and who should know swordplay better than Tara of Helium, who had

learned it well under the constant tutorage of John Carter himself.

Tricks she knew that discounted even far greater physical prowess than

her own, and a method of attack that might have been at once the envy

and despair of the cleverest of warriors. And so it was that her

thoughts turned to Turan the panthan, though not alone because of the

protection he might afford her. She had realized, since he had left her

in search of food, that there had grown between them a certain

comradeship that she now missed. There had been that about him which

seemed to have bridged the gulf between their stations in life. With

him she had failed to consider that he was a panthan or that she was a

princess--they had been comrades. Suddenly she realized that she missed

him for himself more than for his sword. She turned toward O-Tar.

"Where is Turan, my warrior?" she demanded.

"You shall not lack for warriors," replied the jeddak. "One of your

beauty will find plenty ready to fight for her. Possibly it shall not

be necessary to look farther than the jeddak of Manator. You please me,

woman. What say you to such an honor?"

Through narrowed lids the Princess of Helium scrutinized the Jeddak of

Manator, from feathered headdress to sandaled foot and back to

feathered headdress.

"'Honor'!" she mimicked in tones of scorn. "I please thee, do I? Then

know, swine, that thou pleaseth me not--that the daughter of John

Carter is not for such as thou!"

A sudden, tense silence fell upon the assembled chiefs. Slowly the

blood receded from the sinister face of O-Tar, Jeddak of Manator,

leaving him a sickly purple in his wrath. His eyes narrowed to two thin

slits, his lips were compressed to a bloodless line of malevolence. For

a long moment there was no sound in the throne room of the palace at

Manator. Then the jeddak turned toward U-Dor.

"Take her away," he said in a level voice that belied his appearance of

rage. "Take her away, and at the next games let the prisoners and the

common warriors play at Jetan for her."

"And this?" asked U-Dor, pointing at Ghek.

"To the pits until the next games," replied O-Tar.

"So this is your vaunted justice!" cried Tara of Helium; "that two

strangers who have not wronged you shall be sentenced without trial?

And one of them is a woman. The swine of Manator are as just as they

are brave."

"Away with her!" shouted O-Tar, and at a sign from U-Dor the guards

formed about the two prisoners and conducted them from the chamber.

Outside the palace, Ghek and Tara of Helium were separated. The girl

was led through long avenues toward the center of the city and finally

into a low building, topped by lofty towers of massive construction.

Here she was turned over to a warrior who wore the insignia of a dwar,

or captain.

"It is O-Tar's wish," explained U-Dor to this one, "that she be kept

until the next games, when the prisoners and the common warriors shall

play for her. Had she not the tongue of a thoat she had been a worthy

stake for our noblest steel," and U-Dor sighed. "Perhaps even yet I may

win a pardon for her. It were too bad to see such beauty fall to the

lot of some common fellow. I would have honored her myself."

"If I am to be imprisoned, imprison me," said the girl. "I do not

recall that I was sentenced to listen to the insults of every low-born

boor who chanced to admire me."

"You see, A-Kor," cried U-Dor, "the tongue that she has. Even so and

worse spoke she to O-Tar the jeddak."

"I see," replied A-Kor, whom Tara saw was with difficulty restraining a

smile. "Come, then, with me, woman," he said, "and we shall find a safe

place within The Towers of Jetan--but stay! what ails thee?"

The girl had staggered and would have fallen had not the man caught her

in his arms. She seemed to gather herself then and bravely sought to

stand erect without support. A-Kor glanced at U-Dor. "Knew you the

woman was ill?" he asked.

"Possibly it is lack of food," replied the other. "She mentioned, I

believe, that she and her companions had not eaten for several days."

"Brave are the warriors of O-Tar," sneered A-Kor; "lavish their

hospitality. U-Dor, whose riches are uncounted, and the brave O-Tar,

whose squealing thoats are stabled within marble halls and fed from

troughs of gold, can spare no crust to feed a starving girl."

The black haired U-Dor scowled. "Thy tongue will yet pierce thy heart,

son of a slave!" he cried. "Once too often mayst thou try the patience

of the just O-Tar. Hereafter guard thy speech as well as thy towers."

"Think not to taunt me with my mother's state," said A-Kor. "'Tis the

blood of the slave woman that fills my veins with pride, and my only

shame is that I am also the son of thy jeddak."

"And O-Tar heard this?" queried U-Dor.

"O-Tar has already heard it from my own lips," replied A-Kor; "this,

and more."

He turned upon his heel, a supporting arm still around the waist of

Tara of Helium and thus he half led, half carried her into The Towers

of Jetan, while U-Dor wheeled his thoat and galloped back in the

direction of the palace.

Within the main entrance to The Tower of Jetan lolled a half-dozen

warriors. To one of these spoke A-Kor, keeper of the towers. "Fetch

Lan-O, the slave girl, and bid her bring food and drink to the upper

level of the Thurian tower," then he lifted the half-fainting girl in

his arms and bore her along the spiral, inclined runway that led upward

within the tower.

Somewhere in the long ascent Tara lost consciousness. When it returned

she found herself in a large, circular chamber, the stone walls of

which were pierced by windows at regular intervals about the entire

circumference of the room. She was lying upon a pile of sleeping silks

and furs while there knelt above her a young woman who was forcing

drops of some cooling beverage between her parched lips. Tara of Helium

half rose upon an elbow and looked about. In the first moments of

returning consciousness there were swept from the screen of

recollection the happenings of many weeks. She thought that she awoke

in the palace of The Warlord at Helium. Her brows knit as she

scrutinized the strange face bending over her.

"Who are you?" she asked, and, "Where is Uthia?"

"I am Lan-O the slave girl," replied the other. "I know none by the

name of Uthia."

Tara of Helium sat erect and looked about her. This rough stone was not

the marble of her father's halls. "Where am I?" she asked.

"In The Thurian Tower," replied the girl, and then seeing that the

other still did not understand she guessed the truth. "You are a

prisoner in The Towers of Jetan in the city of Manator," she explained.

"You were brought to this chamber, weak and fainting, by A-Kor, Dwar of

The Towers of Jetan, who sent me to you with food and drink, for kind

is the heart of A-Kor."

"I remember, now," said Tara, slowly. "I remember; but where is Turan,

my warrior? Did they speak of him?"

"I heard naught of another," replied Lan-O; "you alone were brought to

the towers. In that you are fortunate, for there be no nobler man in

Manator than A-Kor. It is his mother's blood that makes him so. She was

a slave girl from Gathol."

"Gathol!" exclaimed Tara of Helium. "Lies Gathol close by Manator?"

"Not close, yet still the nearest country," replied Lan-O. "About

twenty-two degrees* east, it lies."

* Approximately 814 Earth Miles.

"Gathol!" murmured Tara, "Far Gathol!"

"But you are not from Gathol," said the slave girl; "your harness is

not of Gathol."

"I am from Helium," said Tara.

"It is far from Helium to Gathol," said the slave girl, "but in our

studies we learned much of the greatness of Helium, we of Gathol, so it

seems not so far away."

"You, too, are from Gathol?" asked Tara.

"Many of us are from Gathol who are slaves in Manator," replied the

girl. "It is to Gathol, nearest country, that the Manatorians look for

slaves most often. They go in great numbers at intervals of three or

seven years and haunt the roads that lead to Gathol, and thus they

capture whole caravans leaving none to bear warning to Gathol of their

fate. Nor do any ever escape from Manator to carry word of us back to

Gahan our jed."

Tara of Helium ate slowly and in silence. The girl's words aroused

memories of the last hours she had spent in her father's palace and the

great midday function at which she had met Gahan of Gathol. Even now

she flushed as she recalled his daring words.

Upon her reveries the door opened and a burly warrior appeared in the

opening--a hulking fellow, with thick lips and an evil, leering face.

The slave girl sprang to her feet, facing him.

"What does this mean, E-Med?" she cried, "was it not the will of A-Kor

that this woman be not disturbed?"

"The will of A-Kor, indeed!" and the man sneered. "The will of A-Kor is

without power in The Towers of Jetan, or elsewhere, for A-Kor lies now

in the pits of O-Tar, and E-Med is dwar of the Towers."

Tara of Helium saw the face of the slave girl pale and the terror in

her eyes.