STANDING in the center of the arena, Jan felt quite small and insignificant in the presence of the mighty carnivore that was stalking majestically toward him. He realized that the chances were all against him, jungle champion though he was, for winning a battle with a saber-toothed tiger. He was in greater danger than he had ever been before.
He fitted an arrow to the bowstring and waited. A shaft launched from a distance would only infuriate the brute and hasten its charge. But should the cat continue its slow, majestic pace, he might be able to send an arrow through an eye into the brain from a distance of fifty feet or so.
No sound came from the myriad onlookers in the seats above. They were watching silently, breathlessly, to see how the contestant would play this extremely dangerous game. It promised almost certain death.
Seated on the lowest tier before the throne were two archers, whose duty it was to see that animals which did not show a fighting spirit in the arena were goaded to greater ferocity. For this purpose they had longbows, and arrows with barbed heads, backed by cross pieces that prevented their piercing beyond a depth of two inches. A few of these barbed arrows clinging to its sides and flank usually put any beast in a fighting humor.
One of the archers, observing that the advancing tiger did not appear any more ferocious than a house cat confronted by a dish of milk, fitted a barbed arrow to the string, and nudged his companion.
“The youth is waiting for a close, careful shot,” he said, “hoping it will be deadly. Watch me spoil his plans.” He drew the arrow back to his ear, took deliberate aim, and let fly.
At the twang of the bowstring the feline looked up curiously. Then, as the cruel barb suddenly stung its shoulder, it gave vent to a roar of rage and charged, not at Jan in the center of the arena, but straight for the archer who had launched the arrow.
It was fully fifteen feet from the floor of the arena to the lowest tier, but the tiger made it in a single graceful leap. Before the astonished and horrified archer could draw his sword, the great cat was upon him. A single crunch of the powerful jaws crushed his head to bloody pulp.
All this took place in a few seconds, but during that brief time Jan had not been idle. As the great beast launched itself into the air, he sent an arrow into its side. By the time it had slain the archer he had sent a second arrow after the first.
Then he saw the monster knocking armored soldiers right and left with sledge-hammer blows from its powerful front paws as it made straight for the golden throne. There were cries of horror from the spectators—shrieks of terror from the ladies who sat with the nobles on each side of the throne.
The Emperor stood up and drew his sword. The Empress turned deathly pale, but stood her ground. There was but a thin line of soldiers between the monster and the throne.
Jan cared nothing for the archers and the soldiers. He cared nothing for the fate of the Emperor. All these were his enemies. But the Empress had smiled at him, with a smile that reminded him of Ramona. And she had interceded with her husband for him. She was his friend; and she was in deadly peril.
Dropping his bow, Jan sprinted for the gateway beneath the throne. Reaching it, he leaped upward, grasped the ornamental rim of the arch above it, and drew himself up. Just above the arch hung the imperial banner of Satmu, draped over the wall. Jan seized a golden tassel, pulled himself up, and grasping the edge of the banner, clambered upward.
Flinging an arm over the rim of the wall, he swung his body across. Then he whipped out his shortsword and charged over the fallen warriors in the wake of the flailing, roaring tiger.
Between the throne and the charging fury there remained but one man. He was Telapu, son of Samsu, Captain of the Imperial Guard and Crown Warrior. Despite his armor and his longsword, Telapu could not bring himself to face the monster that had knocked his men about like ninepins. With a shriek of terror, he turned and ran, leaving the Emperor and Empress to face the beast unguarded.
It was at this moment that Jan came up behind the tiger. With a mighty leap he alighted on the shaggy back, and grasping the loose skin of the neck, thrust his shortsword in to the hilt just beneath the shoulder blade.
Sounding a frightful roar, the great cat turned to seize its foe. But it toppled backward. Jan and the tiger rolled together to the lowest tier, where they brought up against the edge of the wall with terrific force.
As they lay there motionless, apparently locked in a death embrace, it was the Emperor who first dashed down the steps to Jan’s aid. Lifting a heavy paw which lay across Jan’s chest, he dragged his limp body away from that of his terrible foe.
Then he shouted for the royal physician and attendants. The Empress, who had hurried after him, bent over the youth and laid her hand over his heart.
“May Re be praised!” she exclaimed. “He lives! You must see that he is fittingly rewarded for this brave deed, my lord.”
“Such reward as is in our power to confer shall be his,” replied the Emperor. Then he uttered a sudden exclamation of surprise as he noticed the emblem tattooed in the palm of Jan’s right hand. “Look! The sacred lotus! This is no common savage, but a prince of the blood imperial! It accounts for his extraordinary bravery.”
“You forget, my lord,” said Nefertre, “that Telapu is also of the blood imperial. Does this, then, account for his cowardice?”
“It’s a different strain,” replied Mena; “a throw-back, which by Heru and Anpu I’ll weed from my ranks! . . . But here’s the doctor.”
Jan wakened in a soft bed beneath yellow silken coverlets in which were embroidered the imperial coat of arms of Satmu. His head, shoulder and arm were neatly bandaged, and his tattered garments of jaguar skin had been replaced with a silken sleeping wrap.
When he sat up and saw the magnificence of the bedchamber, he thought at first that he had arrived in that beautiful place called heaven, which Ramona had described. But his head swam dizzily, and he subsided to the pillow once more. He recalled rolling down the tiers of the amphitheater in the dying clutch of the tiger, and the conviction, as his head struck the wall, that his time had come to sleep the long sleep.
But there was a saffron-skinned Temukanese slave standing at the foot of his bed. Had this slave also gone to heaven?
“Where are we?” he asked.
“In the Imperial Palace, highness,” replied the slave respectfully.
“Where is Prince Koh of Temukan?” asked Jan.
“He awaits the permission of the royal physician to visit your highness, before beginning his journey.”
“Tell the royal physician I want to see the prince now,” said Jan.
The slave bowed low and withdrew. In a few moments he returned with a tall, dignified man, whose upper lip and jowls were shaven, but whose chin was adorned with a short gray beard, rectangular in shape and plaited with fine gold threads.
“I am Usephais, the doctor, highness,” he said. “So you would entertain visitors? It must be that you are recovering rapidly. Let us see.”
He unwound Jan’s bandages, one by one, and examined his wounds. Then he listened to his heart, and felt his brow for fever.
“Head ache?” he asked.
“Not much,” replied Jan, “but it swims when I sit up.”
“I know. That will pass. Here drink this.”
He dissolved a powder in a glass of wine and held it to the patient’s lips.
Jan drank, and immediately felt a grateful glow suffusing him.
“We’ll have you up and around in a day or two,” said Usephais, “but for the present you must stay in bed. You may see your friend, however.”
He withdrew, and within a short time, Prince Koh was kneeling at the bedside.
“I don’t know how to thank you,” he said, gripping Jan’s hand. “Since your brilliant defense of their majesties, yesterday, I’ve been treated as a visiting prince rather than a captured slave. And I’m to leave for my native kingdom of Temukan today with an escort.”
Some time later Jan was visited by the Emperor and Empress. Because of his ignorance of human customs or the formality of courts, he had no idea of the honor bestowed upon him by such a visit, but he flushed under their enthusiastic praise of his valor, and something within him that had always longed for the care and love of a real human mother responded to the maternal ministrations of the beautiful Nefertre, who could talk to him so soothingly, and whose cool, soft hand upon his brow seemed to bestow a healing benediction.
By order of the royal physician, he was kept in his apartments for three days. On the fourth he was summoned to the imperial audience chamber.
The page who brought the summons was followed by a half dozen slaves, who bore quilted silken garments, gold-plated armor and weapons. While the Emperor’s messenger waited, the slaves quickly dressed Jan in the silken garments, fastened his armor on him, and belted his sword and dagger about his waist. Then he followed the page to the throne room.
Mena was seated on a jewel-studded golden throne, on a dais at one end of the room. Above the back of the throne, a brilliantly polished golden globe, representing the sun, was supported by three images: a blue one of Aset, cut from lapis lazuli; a white one of Asar, carved from alabaster; and a black one of Set, sculptured from polished jet.
Standing at each side of the throne were the leading nobles officials and dignitaries of the realm, including the High Priest of Asar and that of Set, and the High Priestess of Aset.
As Jan and the page entered the room, a major-domo announced:
“His Royal Highness Prince Jan.”
Then the page conducted him to the foot of the throne, while every voice was hushed, and every eye was turned upon him.
The Emperor stood up to receive him, an unusual honor, and made public acknowledgment of the crown’s indebtedness to him for his act of heroism at the games.
Then the monarch resumed his seat and glanced over to the left where Samsu High Priest of Set, stood with a little group of his black-clad followers.
“I believe you have a petition, Samsu,” he said.
“I have, your majesty,” replied the High Priest. “The savage who stands before your throne blinded the holy Sebek. I ask that he be given into my hands, that he may be punished for this sacrilege.”
“He has already stood trial by combat on that score,” replied Mena. “The incident is closed.”
“In the name of the great god Set I demand justice!” said Samsu his skull- like face working.
“Well, then, justice you shall have,” said Mena. “Telapu!”
Standing at the right of the throne, Samsu’s craven son turned deathly pale, and his knees quaked violently when he suddenly heard his name spoken by the Emperor. Nothing had been said to him about his display of cowardice at the games and he was beginning to believe that on account of the influence of his father, the matter had been overlooked.
“Yes, your majesty,” he replied, his voice quavering.
“Your services as Captain of the Imperial Guard are no longer required. The title of Crown Warrior is yours no longer. I return you to your father and to the ranks of the black ones. Go!”
The eyes of Samsu flashed an angry green. Here was a decided setback to his ambition. For Mena had no heir, and he had hoped to place his son in line for succession to the throne of Satmu. But he dared not utter a word of protest. As Telapu, pale and tearful, stumbled over to “where he stood, he kept his head bowed.
“Prince Jan,” said Mena rising once more. “In the presence of these witnesses, I name you Crown Warrior and Captain of the Imperial Guard.”
He raised his hand dismissing the court.
Samsu, his face plainly showing his hate and envy, departed with his disgraced son and his black-clad followers, while the other courtiers crowded around Jan to congratulate him.