CHAPTER VI.
THE JEDDAK OF LOTHAR
The girl looked her incredulity.
“They lay in piles,” she murmured. “There were thousands of them but a
minute ago.”
“And now,” continued Carthoris, “there remain but the banths and the
carcasses of the green men.”
“They must have sent forth and carried the dead bowmen away while we
were talking,” said the girl.
“It is impossible!” replied Carthoris. “Thousands of dead lay there
upon the field but a moment since. It would have required many hours to
have removed them. The thing is uncanny.”
“I had hoped,” said Thuvia, “that we might find an asylum with these
fair-skinned people. Notwithstanding their valour upon the field of
battle, they did not strike me as a ferocious or warlike people. I had
been about to suggest that we seek entrance to the city, but now I
scarce know if I care to venture among people whose dead vanish into
thin air.”
“Let us chance it,” replied Carthoris. “We can be no worse off within
their walls than without. Here we may fall prey to the banths or the no
less fierce Torquasians. There, at least, we shall find beings moulded
after our own images.
“All that causes me to hesitate,” he added, “is the danger of taking
you past so many banths. A single sword would scarce prevail were even
a couple of them to charge simultaneously.”
“Do not fear on that score,” replied the girl, smiling. “The banths
will not harm us.”
As she spoke she descended from the platform, and with Carthoris at her
side stepped fearlessly out upon the bloody field in the direction of
the walled city of mystery.
They had advanced but a short distance when a banth, looking up from
its gory feast, descried them. With an angry roar the beast walked
quickly in their direction, and at the sound of its voice a score of
others followed its example.
Carthoris drew his long-sword. The girl stole a quick glance at his
face. She saw the smile upon his lips, and it was as wine to sick
nerves; for even upon warlike Barsoom where all men are brave, woman
reacts quickly to quiet indifference to danger—to dare-deviltry that is
without bombast.
“You may return your sword,” she said. “I told you that the banths
would not harm us. Look!” and as she spoke she stepped quickly toward
the nearest animal.
Carthoris would have leaped after her to protect her, but with a
gesture she motioned him back. He heard her calling to the banths in a
low, singsong voice that was half purr.
Instantly the great heads went up and all the wicked eyes were riveted
upon the figure of the girl. Then, stealthily, they commenced moving
toward her. She had stopped now and was standing waiting them.
One, closer to her than the others, hesitated. She spoke to him
imperiously, as a master might speak to a refractory hound.
The great carnivore let its head droop, and with tail between its legs
came slinking to the girl’s feet, and after it came the others until
she was entirely surrounded by the savage man-eaters.
Turning she led them to where Carthoris stood. They growled a little as
they neared the man, but a few sharp words of command put them in their
places.
“How do you do it?” exclaimed Carthoris.
“Your father once asked me that same question in the galleries of the
Golden Cliffs within the Otz Mountains, beneath the temples of the
therns. I could not answer him, nor can I answer you. I do not know
whence comes my power over them, but ever since the day that Sator
Throg threw me among them in the banth pit of the Holy Therns, and the
great creatures fawned upon instead of devouring me, I ever have had
the same strange power over them. They come at my call and do my
bidding, even as the faithful Woola does the bidding of your mighty
sire.”
With a word the girl dispersed the fierce pack. Roaring, they returned
to their interrupted feast, while Carthoris and Thuvia passed among
them toward the walled city.
As they advanced the man looked with wonder upon the dead bodies of
those of the green men that had not been devoured or mauled by the
banths.
He called the girl’s attention to them. No arrows protruded from the
great carcasses. Nowhere upon any of them was the sign of mortal wound,
nor even slightest scratch or abrasion.
Before the bowmen’s dead had disappeared the corpses of the Torquasians
had bristled with the deadly arrows of their foes. Where had the
slender messengers of death departed? What unseen hand had plucked them
from the bodies of the slain?
Despite himself Carthoris could scarce repress a shudder of
apprehension as he glanced toward the silent city before them. No
longer was sign of life visible upon wall or roof top. All was
quiet—brooding, ominous quiet.
Yet he was sure that eyes watched them from somewhere behind that blank
wall.
He glanced at Thuvia. She was advancing with wide eyes fixed upon the
city gate. He looked in the direction of her gaze, but saw nothing.
His gaze upon her seemed to arouse her as from a lethargy. She glanced
up at him, a quick, brave smile touching her lips, and then, as though
the act was involuntary, she came close to his side and placed one of
her hands in his.
He guessed that something within her that was beyond her conscious
control was appealing to him for protection. He threw an arm about her,
and thus they crossed the field. She did not draw away from him. It is
doubtful that she realized that his arm was there, so engrossed was she
in the mystery of the strange city before them.
They stopped before the gate. It was a mighty thing. From its
construction Carthoris could but dimly speculate upon its unthinkable
antiquity.
It was circular, closing a circular aperture, and the Heliumite knew
from his study of ancient Barsoomian architecture that it rolled to one
side, like a huge wheel, into an aperture in the wall.
Even such world-old cities as ancient Aaanthor were as yet undreamed of
when the races lived that built such gates as these.
As he stood speculating upon the identity of this forgotten city, a
voice spoke to them from above. Both looked up. There, leaning over the
edge of the high wall, was a man.
His hair was auburn, his skin fair—fairer even than that of John
Carter, the Virginian. His forehead was high, his eyes large and
intelligent.
The language that he used was intelligible to the two below, yet there
was a marked difference between it and their Barsoomian tongue.
“Who are you?” he asked. “And what do you here before the gate of
Lothar?”
“We are friends,” replied Carthoris. “This be the princess, Thuvia of
Ptarth, who was captured by the Torquasian horde. I am Carthoris of
Helium, Prince of the house of Tardos Mors, Jeddak of Helium, and son
of John Carter, Warlord of Mars, and of his wife, Dejah Thoris.”
“‘Ptarth’?” repeated the man. “‘Helium’?” He shook his head. “I never
have heard of these places, nor did I know that there dwelt upon
Barsoom a race of thy strange colour. Where may these cities lie, of
which you speak? From our loftiest tower we have never seen another
city than Lothar.”
Carthoris pointed toward the north-east.
“In that direction lie Helium and Ptarth,” he said. “Helium is over
eight thousand haads from Lothar, while Ptarth lies nine thousand five
hundred haads north-east of Helium.”[1]
Still the man shook his head.
“I know of nothing beyond the Lotharian hills,” he said. “Naught may
live there beside the hideous green hordes of Torquas. They have
conquered all Barsoom except this single valley and the city of Lothar.
Here we have defied them for countless ages, though periodically they
renew their attempts to destroy us. From whence you come I cannot guess
unless you be descended from the slaves the Torquasians captured in
early times when they reduced the outer world to their vassalage; but
we had heard that they destroyed all other races but their own.”
Carthoris tried to explain that the Torquasians ruled but a relatively
tiny part of the surface of Barsoom, and even this only because their
domain held nothing to attract the red race; but the Lotharian could
not seem to conceive of anything beyond the valley of Lothar other than
a trackless waste peopled by the ferocious green hordes of Torquas.
After considerable parleying he consented to admit them to the city,
and a moment later the wheel-like gate rolled back within its niche,
and Thuvia and Carthoris entered the city of Lothar.
All about them were evidences of fabulous wealth. The facades of the
buildings fronting upon the avenue within the wall were richly carven,
and about the windows and doors were ofttimes set foot-wide borders of
precious stones, intricate mosaics, or tablets of beaten gold bearing
bas-reliefs depicting what may have been bits of the history of this
forgotten people.
He with whom they had conversed across the wall was in the avenue to
receive them. About him were a hundred or more men of the same race.
All were clothed in flowing robes and all were beardless.
Their attitude was more of fearful suspicion than antagonism. They
followed the new-comers with their eyes; but spoke no word to them.
Carthoris could not but notice the fact that though the city had been
but a short time before surrounded by a horde of bloodthirsty demons
yet none of the citizens appeared to be armed, nor was there sign of
soldiery about.
He wondered if all the fighting men had sallied forth in one supreme
effort to rout the foe, leaving the city all unguarded. He asked their
host.
The man smiled.
“No creature other than a score or so of our sacred banths has left
Lothar to-day,” he replied.
“But the soldiers—the bowmen!” exclaimed Carthoris. “We saw thousands
emerge from this very gate, overwhelming the hordes of Torquas and
putting them to rout with their deadly arrows and their fierce banths.”
Still the man smiled his knowing smile.
“Look!” he cried, and pointed down a broad avenue before him.
Carthoris and Thuvia followed the direction indicated, and there,
marching bravely in the sunlight, they saw advancing toward them a
great army of bowmen.
“Ah!” exclaimed Thuvia. “They have returned through another gate, or
perchance these be the troops that remained to defend the city?”
Again the fellow smiled his uncanny smile.
“There are no soldiers in Lothar,” he said. “Look!”
Both Carthoris and Thuvia had turned toward him while he spoke, and now
as they turned back again toward the advancing regiments their eyes
went wide in astonishment, for the broad avenue before them was as
deserted as the tomb.
“And those who marched out upon the hordes to-day?” whispered
Carthoris. “They, too, were unreal?”
The man nodded.
“But their arrows slew the green warriors,” insisted Thuvia.
“Let us go before Tario,” replied the Lotharian. “He will tell you that
which he deems it best you know. I might tell you too much.”
“Who is Tario?” asked Carthoris.
“Jeddak of Lothar,” replied the guide, leading them up the broad avenue
down which they had but a moment since seen the phantom army marching.
For half an hour they walked along lovely avenues between the most
gorgeous buildings that the two had ever seen. Few people were in
evidence. Carthoris could not but note the deserted appearance of the
mighty city.
At last they came to the royal palace. Carthoris saw it from a
distance, and guessing the nature of the magnificent pile wondered that
even here there should be so little sign of activity and life.
Not even a single guard was visible before the great entrance gate, nor
in the gardens beyond, into which he could see, was there sign of the
myriad life that pulses within the precincts of the royal estates of
the red jeddaks.
“Here,” said their guide, “is the palace of Tario.”
As he spoke Carthoris again let his gaze rest upon the wondrous palace.
With a startled exclamation he rubbed his eyes and looked again. No! He
could not be mistaken. Before the massive gate stood a score of
sentries. Within, the avenue leading to the main building was lined on
either side by ranks of bowmen. The gardens were dotted with officers
and soldiers moving quickly to and fro, as though bent upon the duties
of the minute.
What manner of people were these who could conjure an army out of thin
air? He glanced toward Thuvia. She, too, evidently had witnessed the
transformation.
With a little shudder she pressed more closely toward him.
“What do you make of it?” she whispered. “It is most uncanny.”
“I cannot account for it,” replied Carthoris, “unless we have gone
mad.”
Carthoris turned quickly toward the Lotharian. The fellow was smiling
broadly.
“I thought that you just said that there were no soldiers in Lothar,”
said the Heliumite, with a gesture toward the guardsmen. “What are
these?”
“Ask Tario,” replied the other. “We shall soon be before him.”
Nor was it long before they entered a lofty chamber at one end of which
a man reclined upon a rich couch that stood upon a high dais.
As the trio approached, the man turned dreamy eyes sleepily upon them.
Twenty feet from the dais their conductor halted, and, whispering to
Thuvia and Carthoris to follow his example, threw himself headlong to
the floor. Then rising to hands and knees, he commenced crawling toward
the foot of the throne, swinging his head to and fro and wiggling his
body as you have seen a hound do when approaching its master.
Thuvia glanced quickly toward Carthoris. He was standing erect, with
high-held head and arms folded across his broad chest. A haughty smile
curved his lips.
The man upon the dais was eyeing him intently, and Carthoris of Helium
was looking straight in the other’s face.
“Who be these, Jav?” asked the man of him who crawled upon his belly
along the floor.
“O Tario, most glorious Jeddak,” replied Jav, “these be strangers who
came with the hordes of Torquas to our gates, saying that they were
prisoners of the green men. They tell strange tales of cities far
beyond Lothar.”
“Arise, Jav,” commanded Tario, “and ask these two why they show not to
Tario the respect that is his due.”
Jav arose and faced the strangers. At sight of their erect positions
his face went livid. He leaped toward them.
“Creatures!” he screamed. “Down! Down upon your bellies before the last
of the jeddaks of Barsoom!”
[1] On Barsoom the _ad_ is the basis of linear measurement. It is the
equivalent of an Earthly foot, measuring about 11.694 Earth inches. As
has been my custom in the past, I have generally translated Barsoomian
symbols of time, distance, etc., into their Earthly equivalent, as
being more easily understood by Earth readers. For those of a more
studious turn of mind it may be interesting to know the Martian table
of linear measurement, and so I give it here:
10 sofads = 1 ad
200 ads = 1 haad
100 haads = 1 karad
360 karads = 1 circumference of Mars at equator.
A haad, or Barsoomian mile, contains about 2,339 Earth feet. A karad is
one degree. A sofad about 1.17 Earth inches.