الفصل الفصل 9 · 第9章

ISSUS, GODDESS OF LIFE ETERNAL

The confession of love which the girl’s fright had wrung from her

touched me deeply; but it humiliated me as well, since I felt that in

some thoughtless word or act I had given her reason to believe that I

reciprocated her affection.

Never have I been much of a ladies’ man, being more concerned with

fighting and kindred arts which have ever seemed to me more befitting a

man than mooning over a scented glove four sizes too small for him, or

kissing a dead flower that has begun to smell like a cabbage. So I was

quite at a loss as to what to do or say. A thousand times rather face

the wild hordes of the dead sea bottoms than meet the eyes of this

beautiful young girl and tell her the thing that I must tell her.

But there was nothing else to be done, and so I did it. Very clumsily

too, I fear.

Gently I unclasped her hands from about my neck, and still holding them

in mine I told her the story of my love for Dejah Thoris. That of all

the women of two worlds that I had known and admired during my long

life she alone had I loved.

The tale did not seem to please her. Like a tigress she sprang,

panting, to her feet. Her beautiful face was distorted in an expression

of horrible malevolence. Her eyes fairly blazed into mine.

“Dog,” she hissed. “Dog of a blasphemer! Think you that Phaidor,

daughter of Matai Shang, supplicates? She commands. What to her is your

puny outer world passion for the vile creature you chose in your other

life?

“Phaidor has glorified you with her love, and you have spurned her. Ten

thousand unthinkably atrocious deaths could not atone for the affront

that you have put upon me. The thing that you call Dejah Thoris shall

die the most horrible of them all. You have sealed the warrant for her

doom.

“And you! You shall be the meanest slave in the service of the goddess

you have attempted to humiliate. Tortures and ignominies shall be

heaped upon you until you grovel at my feet asking the boon of death.

“In my gracious generosity I shall at length grant your prayer, and

from the high balcony of the Golden Cliffs I shall watch the great

white apes tear you asunder.”

She had it all fixed up. The whole lovely programme from start to

finish. It amazed me to think that one so divinely beautiful could at

the same time be so fiendishly vindictive. It occurred to me, however,

that she had overlooked one little factor in her revenge, and so,

without any intent to add to her discomfiture, but rather to permit her

to rearrange her plans along more practical lines, I pointed to the

nearest port-hole.

Evidently she had entirely forgotten her surroundings and her present

circumstances, for a single glance at the dark, swirling waters without

sent her crumpled upon a low bench, where with her face buried in her

arms she sobbed more like a very unhappy little girl than a proud and

all-powerful goddess.

Down, down we continued to sink until the heavy glass of the port-holes

became noticeably warm from the heat of the water without. Evidently we

were very far beneath the surface crust of Mars.

Presently our downward motion ceased, and I could hear the propellers

swirling through the water at our stern and forcing us ahead at high

speed. It was very dark down there, but the light from our port-holes,

and the reflection from what must have been a powerful searchlight on

the submarine’s nose showed that we were forging through a narrow

passage, rock-lined, and tube-like.

After a few minutes the propellers ceased their whirring. We came to a

full stop, and then commenced to rise swiftly toward the surface. Soon

the light from without increased and we came to a stop.

Xodar entered the cabin with his men.

“Come,” he said, and we followed him through the hatchway which had

been opened by one of the seamen.

We found ourselves in a small subterranean vault, in the centre of

which was the pool in which lay our submarine, floating as we had first

seen her with only her black back showing.

Around the edge of the pool was a level platform, and then the walls of

the cave rose perpendicularly for a few feet to arch toward the centre

of the low roof. The walls about the ledge were pierced with a number

of entrances to dimly lighted passageways.

Toward one of these our captors led us, and after a short walk halted

before a steel cage which lay at the bottom of a shaft rising above us

as far as one could see.

The cage proved to be one of the common types of elevator cars that I

had seen in other parts of Barsoom. They are operated by means of

enormous magnets which are suspended at the top of the shaft. By an

electrical device the volume of magnetism generated is regulated and

the speed of the car varied.

In long stretches they move at a sickening speed, especially on the

upward trip, since the small force of gravity inherent to Mars results

in very little opposition to the powerful force above.

Scarcely had the door of the car closed behind us than we were slowing

up to stop at the landing above, so rapid was our ascent of the long

shaft.

When we emerged from the little building which houses the upper

terminus of the elevator, we found ourselves in the midst of a

veritable fairyland of beauty. The combined languages of Earth men hold

no words to convey to the mind the gorgeous beauties of the scene.

One may speak of scarlet sward and ivory-stemmed trees decked with

brilliant purple blooms; of winding walks paved with crushed rubies,

with emerald, with turquoise, even with diamonds themselves; of a

magnificent temple of burnished gold, hand-wrought with marvellous

designs; but where are the words to describe the glorious colours that

are unknown to earthly eyes? where the mind or the imagination that can

grasp the gorgeous scintillations of unheard-of rays as they emanate

from the thousand nameless jewels of Barsoom?

Even my eyes, for long years accustomed to the barbaric splendours of a

Martian Jeddak’s court, were amazed at the glory of the scene.

Phaidor’s eyes were wide in amazement.

“The Temple of Issus,” she whispered, half to herself.

Xodar watched us with his grim smile, partly of amusement and partly

malicious gloating.

The gardens swarmed with brilliantly trapped black men and women. Among

them moved red and white females serving their every want. The places

of the outer world and the temples of the therns had been robbed of

their princesses and goddesses that the blacks might have their slaves.

Through this scene we moved toward the temple. At the main entrance we

were halted by a cordon of armed guards. Xodar spoke a few words to an

officer who came forward to question us. Together they entered the

temple, where they remained for some time.

When they returned it was to announce that Issus desired to look upon

the daughter of Matai Shang, and the strange creature from another

world who had been a Prince of Helium.

Slowly we moved through endless corridors of unthinkable beauty;

through magnificent apartments, and noble halls. At length we were

halted in a spacious chamber in the centre of the temple. One of the

officers who had accompanied us advanced to a large door in the further

end of the chamber. Here he must have made some sort of signal for

immediately the door opened and another richly trapped courtier

emerged.

We were then led up to the door, where we were directed to get down on

our hands and knees with our backs toward the room we were to enter.

The doors were swung open and after being cautioned not to turn our

heads under penalty of instant death we were commanded to back into the

presence of Issus.

Never have I been in so humiliating a position in my life, and only my

love for Dejah Thoris and the hope which still clung to me that I might

again see her kept me from rising to face the goddess of the First Born

and go down to my death like a gentleman, facing my foes and with their

blood mingling with mine.

After we had crawled in this disgusting fashion for a matter of a

couple of hundred feet we were halted by our escort.

“Let them rise,” said a voice behind us; a thin, wavering voice, yet

one that had evidently been accustomed to command for many years.

“Rise,” said our escort, “but do not face toward Issus.”

“The woman pleases me,” said the thin, wavering voice again after a few

moments of silence. “She shall serve me the allotted time. The man you

may return to the Isle of Shador which lies against the northern shore

of the Sea of Omean. Let the woman turn and look upon Issus, knowing

that those of the lower orders who gaze upon the holy vision of her

radiant face survive the blinding glory but a single year.”

I watched Phaidor from the corner of my eye. She paled to a ghastly

hue. Slowly, very slowly she turned, as though drawn by some invisible

yet irresistible force. She was standing quite close to me, so close

that her bare arm touched mine as she finally faced Issus, Goddess of

Life Eternal.

I could not see the girl’s face as her eyes rested for the first time

on the Supreme Deity of Mars, but felt the shudder that ran through her

in the trembling flesh of the arm that touched mine.

“It must be dazzling loveliness indeed,” thought I, “to cause such

emotion in the breast of so radiant a beauty as Phaidor, daughter of

Matai Shang.”

“Let the woman remain. Remove the man. Go.” Thus spoke Issus, and the

heavy hand of the officer fell upon my shoulder. In accordance with his

instructions I dropped to my hands and knees once more and crawled from

the Presence. It had been my first audience with deity, but I am free

to confess that I was not greatly impressed—other than with the

ridiculous figure I cut scrambling about on my marrow bones.

Once without the chamber the doors closed behind us and I was bid to

rise. Xodar joined me and together we slowly retraced our steps toward

the gardens.

“You spared my life when you easily might have taken it,” he said after

we had proceeded some little way in silence, “and I would aid you if I

might. I can help to make your life here more bearable, but your fate

is inevitable. You may never hope to return to the outer world.”

“What will be my fate?” I asked.

“That will depend largely upon Issus. So long as she does not send for

you and reveal her face to you, you may live on for years in as mild a

form of bondage as I can arrange for you.”

“Why should she send for me?” I asked.

“The men of the lower orders she often uses for various purposes of

amusement. Such a fighter as you, for example, would render fine sport

in the monthly rites of the temple. There are men pitted against men,

and against beasts for the edification of Issus and the replenishment

of her larder.”

“She eats human flesh?” I asked. Not in horror, however, for since my

recently acquired knowledge of the Holy Therns I was prepared for

anything in this still less accessible heaven, where all was evidently

dictated by a single omnipotence; where ages of narrow fanaticism and

self-worship had eradicated all the broader humanitarian instincts that

the race might once have possessed.

They were a people drunk with power and success, looking upon the other

inhabitants of Mars as we look upon the beasts of the field and the

forest. Why then should they not eat of the flesh of the lower orders

whose lives and characters they no more understood than do we the

inmost thoughts and sensibilities of the cattle we slaughter for our

earthly tables.

“She eats only the flesh of the best bred of the Holy Therns and the

red Barsoomians. The flesh of the others goes to our boards. The

animals are eaten by the slaves. She also eats other dainties.”

I did not understand then that there lay any special significance in

his reference to other dainties. I thought the limit of ghoulishness

already had been reached in the recitation of Issus’ menu. I still had

much to learn as to the depths of cruelty and bestiality to which

omnipotence may drag its possessor.

We had about reached the last of the many chambers and corridors which

led to the gardens when an officer overtook us.

“Issus would look again upon this man,” he said. “The girl has told her

that he is of wondrous beauty and of such prowess that alone he slew

seven of the First Born, and with his bare hands took Xodar captive,

binding him with his own harness.”

Xodar looked uncomfortable. Evidently he did not relish the thought

that Issus had learned of his inglorious defeat.

Without a word he turned and we followed the officer once again to the

closed doors before the audience chamber of Issus, Goddess of Life

Eternal.

Here the ceremony of entrance was repeated. Again Issus bid me rise.

For several minutes all was silent as the tomb. The eyes of deity were

appraising me.

Presently the thin wavering voice broke the stillness, repeating in a

singsong drone the words which for countless ages had sealed the doom

of numberless victims.

“Let the man turn and look upon Issus, knowing that those of the lower

orders who gaze upon the holy vision of her radiant face survive the

blinding glory but a single year.”

I turned as I had been bid, expecting such a treat as only the

revealment of divine glory to mortal eyes might produce. What I saw was

a solid phalanx of armed men between myself and a dais supporting a

great bench of carved sorapus wood. On this bench, or throne, squatted

a female black. She was evidently very old. Not a hair remained upon

her wrinkled skull. With the exception of two yellow fangs she was

entirely toothless. On either side of her thin, hawk-like nose her eyes

burned from the depths of horribly sunken sockets. The skin of her face

was seamed and creased with a million deepcut furrows. Her body was as

wrinkled as her face, and as repulsive.

Emaciated arms and legs attached to a torso which seemed to be mostly

distorted abdomen completed the “holy vision of her radiant beauty.”

Surrounding her were a number of female slaves, among them Phaidor,

white and trembling.

“This is the man who slew seven of the First Born and, bare-handed,

bound Dator Xodar with his own harness?” asked Issus.

“Most glorious vision of divine loveliness, it is,” replied the officer

who stood at my side.

“Produce Dator Xodar,” she commanded.

Xodar was brought from the adjoining room.

Issus glared at him, a baleful light in her hideous eyes.

“And such as you are a Dator of the First Born?” she squealed. “For the

disgrace you have brought upon the Immortal Race you shall be degraded

to a rank below the lowest. No longer be you a Dator, but for evermore

a slave of slaves, to fetch and carry for the lower orders that serve

in the gardens of Issus. Remove his harness. Cowards and slaves wear no

trappings.”

Xodar stood stiffly erect. Not a muscle twitched, nor a tremor shook

his giant frame as a soldier of the guard roughly stripped his gorgeous

trappings from him.

“Begone,” screamed the infuriated little old woman. “Begone, but

instead of the light of the gardens of Issus let you serve as a slave

of this slave who conquered you in the prison on the Isle of Shador in

the Sea of Omean. Take him away out of the sight of my divine eyes.”

Slowly and with high held head the proud Xodar turned and stalked from

the chamber. Issus rose and turned to leave the room by another exit.

Turning to me, she said: “You shall be returned to Shador for the

present. Later Issus will see the manner of your fighting. Go.” Then

she disappeared, followed by her retinue. Only Phaidor lagged behind,

and as I started to follow my guard toward the gardens, the girl came

running after me.

“Oh, do not leave me in this terrible place,” she begged. “Forgive the

things I said to you, my Prince. I did not mean them. Only take me away

with you. Let me share your imprisonment on Shador.” Her words were an

almost incoherent volley of thoughts, so rapidly she spoke. “You did

not understand the honour that I did you. Among the therns there is no

marriage or giving in marriage, as among the lower orders of the outer

world. We might have lived together for ever in love and happiness. We

have both looked upon Issus and in a year we die. Let us live that year

at least together in what measure of joy remains for the doomed.”

“If it was difficult for me to understand you, Phaidor,” I replied,

“can you not understand that possibly it is equally difficult for you

to understand the motives, the customs and the social laws that guide

me? I do not wish to hurt you, nor to seem to undervalue the honour

which you have done me, but the thing you desire may not be. Regardless

of the foolish belief of the peoples of the outer world, or of Holy

Thern, or ebon First Born, I am not dead. While I live my heart beats

for but one woman—the incomparable Dejah Thoris, Princess of Helium.

When death overtakes me my heart shall have ceased to beat; but what

comes after that I know not. And in that I am as wise as Matai Shang,

Master of Life and Death upon Barsoom; or Issus, Goddess of Life

Eternal.”

Phaidor stood looking at me intently for a moment. No anger showed in

her eyes this time, only a pathetic expression of hopeless sorrow.

“I do not understand,” she said, and turning walked slowly in the

direction of the door through which Issus and her retinue had passed. A

moment later she had passed from my sight.