CHAPTER IV
"DEAD MEN ARE BEHIND US"
Along the black avenue, back to the prison house of Mordo, the captives were marched. For Oleric, through the friendship Brunar bore him, won from that captain the half of a day for his friends, that they might pass it together before the separation decreed by Bel-Ar.
Understanding little of what had taken place, and no word of what had been said in the audience-chamber of the king—for Oleric the Red was their only interpreter—the prisoners still had the heart to look with curiosity upon the doings in that part of Adlaz town which lay along the way that they traversed.
As Zenas Wright trudged, his bright old eyes were busy, and he shook his white head often at the marvels which he saw. A group of the young bloods of Maeronica clattered by on horses. As they passed, the old geologist stared and stopped in his tracks, so that an impatient soldier of the guard hustled him with the butt of a spear.
"Gold, gold, everywhere," muttered Zenas as he started on. "They even shoe their horses with it."
In the hall where they had slept the friends gathered for council. Oleric had come in with them, and all eyes were turned to him. Before he would speak the captain insisted that meat and wine should be brought, and he set his helmet on the floor and ate with them.
Fate willed that it should be the last time that the seven friends should sit at the same table.
When the meal was ended, Oleric told simply and briefly of the judgment of Bel-Ar, holding back nothing.
For a moment, silence was his answer. Then Zenas Wright brought his jaws together with a snap.
"What! Me a scullion in that barbarian's greasy kitchen!" he barked. "Why not nursemaid to the royal brats?" Then Zenas groaned as his anger was swallowed in the realization of what was to befall the friends he whom had come to love so well.
With his topaz eyes ablaze, Polaris Janess sprang up from the table and stood over the captain.
"You, Oleric, who call yourself my friend, why did you not interpret this to us while we were in the hall yonder?" he asked quietly. "Then had this kingdom been kingless." He glanced down at his sinewy hands. Suddenly he bent over and snatched the captain's sword from its sheath. So he, who had seen so much of fighting, made ready to fight again, and for the last time. For what else was left him but to give his life for his lady and go to his appointed place?
"Of those who come to take us, some at least shall go a long journey with us," he said as he toyed with the heavy blade.
Everson and Brooks, picked men who had sailed the seas for Uncle Sam, nodded their heads, saying nothing. There have been traditions in that service of which they were officers. When their time came they would uphold them.
White and straight, the Lady Memene stood up from the table and fixed her glorious eyes upon the Sardanian king. She plucked from the bosom of her gown a small, keen dagger, a blade of ilium, which a certain Kard the Smith had forged for her in far-away Sardanes. She reached the weapon across the table and into the hands of Minos.
"If I understand the words of this man aright, death waiteth," she said in the ancient Greek of her native land. "Memene prefers it at thy hands, O king of mine. Slay thou me and—and the unborn king, Minos." Her lips trembled pitifully, and her voice broke. Then she became hard again, and with a fire in her eyes. "Join thou then with our good brother here, and slay, and slay, and slay—for this is an evil land. And begin with this man whom we saved from the sea, and who is evil, also. See! He smileth, while we are about to die."
Oleric, who had made no move when his sword was taken from him, sat quietly, studying the faces about him and smiling his enigmatical smile.
"What does the lady say?" he asked of Polaris.
Janess told him.
When Rose Emer heard, she threw her arms about the Sardanian princess and hid her face in Memene's bosom. Presently she looked up, a mist of tears in her gray eyes, but her voice was clear and steady as she said:
"If we are to die, let us die together. Polaris, let me go with Memene."
Oleric's smile vanished. He held up his hand.
"Let there be no more talk of dying—at least not for many long years," he said, and there were both feeling and strength in his tones.
The others looked at him, wondering what his words portended.
"Now the time has come for me to avow myself," continued the red captain. "I will speak all that has been in my mind, and you shall judge if I be worthy of your trust—for trust to me you must, if we are to see a straight way out of this tangle."
He turned to Polaris.
"My brother," he said, "do you recall that yesterday, when you had slain the bull of Shamar, I said to you that Bel-Ar would be as little likely to forgive you that deed as to forgive one who confessed himself a follower of the Goddess Glorian of Ruthar?"
Polaris nodded. "I remember," he answered, "but understand not."
"That is my crime," said Oleric. "I am of Ruthar, a follower of the Goddess Glorian, and a faithful one. I will make clear to you what you do not understand. Listen. I will make the tale brief.
"In the long ago, the very long ago—so long that most of the world you know was wilderness and its peoples barbarians—a mighty people flourished on an island in the ocean that you name Atlantic. They called themselves the Children of Ad, or Adlaz, after the eldest of the ten kings that once ruled in that land. Tradition has it that their island was the first cradle of civilization; for they, because of their isolation, alone of all the peoples of the earth, dwelt in peace and plenty, and were not wasted by wars.
"If the ancient maps were truly drawn, that island of Adlaz lay opposite and southward from the straits of a fair sea, and the straits were known as the Pillars of Heracles. With time and the growth of the nation of Ad came greed upon her children, greed and the love of conquest. Great navies carried their armies east and west. Along both shores of that blue sea, which you know as Mediterranean, they gained a foothold, and made the nations bend to their yoke. Westward they sailed to another continent across the ocean, conquering the red men of the wildernesses there, and founding provinces and building cities.
"Then in the flower of her pride and conquests, Adlaz was cut down. Both sides of the Mediterranean she held as far as the gates of Egypt and the islands of the Hellenes. But the nation of the Hellenes was the rock on which the fortunes of Adlaz split. A wise and crafty king led the Hellenes in battle to withstand the flood of invasion from the island empire. He beat their army and nearly destroyed it. He trapped the mighty navy that had sailed from Adlaz against the Hellenes. While Egypt sat quaking, waiting to bend the neck to the heel of the invader, the Hellenes, under their wise leader, turned the tide.
"Balked and broken, those who had gone forth to conquer returned to their island. But the great sea-god whom they worshiped must have been sorely angered at their failure. For in one day he arose and swallowed their island. The land heaved and split; the mountains were rent, and vomited up both fires and waters, and the entire island disappeared into the depths of the sea. East and west on the two continents, the barbarians rose against the colonies of Adlaz, and they too perished. O'Connell, the slave, who was learned, told me that so utterly was the race of Adlaz wiped from the earth that naught remains, excepting the half-buried ruins of some of their cities, which stand in the jungles of the western continent, concerning the very origin of which the minds of men are vague. And of the island of Adlaz itself, he told that it was only a dim tradition, a myth, the truth of which is doubted even by the learned.
"But all of Adlaz did not perish. A part, a small part, of the mighty fleet which had sailed against the Hellenes was not lost, but was driven southward in the tidal-waves of the inundation which swallowed the island.
"Afloat, but with every hand in the world turned against them, their colonies crumbling before the wrath of the barbarians, those chiefs of Adlaz turned for guidance to the son of one of their princes who was on one of the ships. Of his wisdom that prince told them that since they were hated of all the world, and that even the hand of the sea-god was set against them—why, they would sail to the end of the world to find them an abiding place, until in the fulness of time they should once more rule the earth. So they passed like a flame down the coasts of the western continent until they reached this place; and here they stopped and stayed, maintaining the old traditions of their race, keeping themselves apart—a hateful people, waiting for the day of which their leader told them, when they shall once more conquer the world.
"But even in those days they found this land, which is warmed strangely by the ocean currents, was inhabited. A free and fearless race of barbarians dwelt here, and them the warriors of Adlaz were never able to subdue. Great beasts dwelt here, also—beasts so mighty that the earth shook when they walked—and the Children of Ad found themselves beset by troubles in their new land. But they throve. Though they could not conquer the barbarians, they drove them from the north of the island. And though they could not slay the mighty beasts, they affrighted them with fire, burning whole forests, and forced them also to the south. At one point the land is narrow, scarcely sixty of your English miles across. There the Children of Ad builded them a wall so tall and thick that even the beasts might not push it down.
"On the other side of that wall—the Kimbrian Wall—lies Ruthar, a land of forests and hills and rivers, but a fair land. And there dwell the Rutharians and the beasts; and down through all the years to this day there has been war across the wall.
"Now to the meat of this tale of mine, which grows long. In Ruthar there is a prophecy, also, to match that of those who call themselves Maeronicans. It is that there shall come up from the sea a mighty man with yellow hair like unto gold, who shall break down the Kimbrian Wall and let the beasts pass through, and who shall lead the chiefs of Ruthar in a warfare that shall break the power of Adlaz, and cast down the hateful kings and the cruel religion of Shamar. For that man the Rutharian chieftains always wait, and with them waits the Goddess Glorian, who is more than any king or chief."
Oleric paused, and looked long and earnestly into the face of Polaris.
"That is my tale, my brother," he said. "And if you are not the man of the ancient prophecy of Ruthar, at least I believe that you will serve."
Breathlessly Zenas Wright had followed the course of the red captain's words. The scientist could contain himself no longer.
"Atlantis!" he cried. From face to face about the table he looked, with a shadow of awe in his eager eyes. "Just so surely as we are sitting here—if this man tells the truth, and I think that he does—we are among the descendants of the people of the lost continent of Atlantis. Word for word, his story fits in with that which the old Egyptian priest at Sais told to Solon, the Greek, and which Plato recorded. I have read it all in the compilation by Ignatius Donnelly, in which he gathered all the evidence which he could find in the world to prove that Atlantis was not a myth."
Zenas sat back with half-closed eyes. A long, low whistle passed his lips.
"What do you call the luminous metal with which your helmet and armor are decorated?" he asked of Oleric.
"It is called orichalcum," replied the captain.
Wright nodded. "It is the same," he said. "Plato wrote that such was the name of a similar metal, of which the Atlanteans had the secret. They delved it from the ground. It was far more precious to them than gold. In their temples stood columns of it, on which their laws were carved."
"O'Connell told me that there were still traditions in the world of the continent that was; but he never told me this," Oleric said. "You are right. In the Temple of Shamar, here in Adlaz, such a column stands, and on it the laws are writ. On it, too, is the prophecy of Maeronica, against which I now match the prophecy of Ruthar, whose son I am."
He looked at Polaris. "Say, brother, how is it with you? Are you minded to come with me to Ruthar and try a tilt at the Kimbrian Wall—a tilt for a kingdom?"
Polaris had heard the tale of Oleric with grave and earnest attention, studying the face of the captain as he talked. Now the son of the snows laughed dryly.
"Mad talk, Oleric the Red," he said. "I am not the hero of your prophecy; and if I were, how are we to come from Adlaz to this Ruthar of which you tell us so glibly; and when we are come there, if that be possible, how are we to break down the wall which has stood against your armies for years—"
"So it must seem to you," interrupted Oleric, with clouding brow. "Mad talk, indeed; and perhaps it is. But here in Adlaz is death—death and slavery. I know a way to Ruthar. For the matter of the wall, I have one question to put. Well answered, all will be well.
"Here in Maeronica there are some few things in which the folk have progressed as far ahead of the rest of the world as the world has outstripped them in most others. Of these are the fademes and their power of destruction—the mighty force of which even I know can only be used beneath the sea. On land, that force is powerless except to use as a light. In battle the Maeronicans fight as did their forefathers, bearing the arms that you have seen. I know that out in the world men have mastered the secret of engines which slay from afar, casting globes of metal which fly apart with a loud noise, rending all that is near. Such I saw on the ship yonder.
"We have, as you reckon time, nearly six months before the Feast of Years, when doom will be meted out to those who are marked for death. I know that is not time enough, nor do I think we have the means to construct such engines. But, say—has no one among you the knowledge to make the stuff which you feed into them? If there is such a one, why, I know in Ruthar a laboratory where he might work, with many willing hands to do his bidding. I have tried it myself, but have discovered nothing. Surely one of you, who are instructed, shall do better. So might we destroy even the great wall."
He paused, and gazed hard at Zenas Wright and then at Lieutenant Everson.
"An explosive!" Zenas Wright almost shouted the words. "You have a brain in that red head, my boy. With the proper chemicals it might be done." He clapped Everson on the shoulder. "With you to help me, it might be done. What do you think, lieutenant?"
"I would do most anything to get a chance at this nest of devils," said Everson, and his eyes glittered. "I have not trusted this man. I do not know that I trust him now. But if he is playing fair, there seems no other way. Whatever you decide to do, I am with you, and will do my best. If we can find the chemicals, we can make an explosive powerful enough to move a few tons of stone, if that will do any good."
"Break you the wall, and I will promise you the rest of the trick," the captain cried, "or Ruthar will die to the last man on the road to Adlaz!"
He considered for a moment.
"One man I can surely take with me to Ruthar," he said. "Two will double, aye more than double the risk; and three would more than triple it. Still, it may be accomplished. I must have a little time; but I will do my best.
"Now, my brother, what say you? If I can bring it about so that you and the old man here, Father Zenas, and this other, who, though he trust me not, I will yet play fair by—if I can manage it that these go with me to Ruthar—will you come, also?"
"What of these others?" Polaris asked, and looked at Rose Emer.
"Here they must stay," Oleric answered.
"'Twill be hard enough to take the three of you—and slaying will be done before it is accomplished. It is impossible to take more. By the way which we shall go, no woman might pass undetected. But I tell you they shall come to no harm in your absence. The very law of the land protects them. They be marked for the ceremonies of Shamar. Until the appointed time, not even the king himself dare harm them. Bethink you, brother; this is the only way."
"Yonder on the ship you made a promise, Oleric," replied Polaris. "I think you will try to keep it. I trust you. But there are other things to consider." He addressed himself to Rose Emer.
"Lady, you have heard this madness, which yet, as says the captain, does seem to be the only road save that to death. In such things ofttimes the heart of a woman is wiser than the brains of men. Let your heart answer. Shall I go to Ruthar, and with this man and his people fight my way back to Adlaz, if it may be done?"
"The future of this company hangs on your word, lady," put in Oleric. "And I make another promise. By day and by night I will not leave the side of my brother. If he shall find that in any word I have lied, if he shall meet with any treachery through me, then let him wring this red head from off my shoulders."
"If we stay here, we must die to-day, or be separated and die later," Rose Emer said with a shudder. "And our friends, if they do not die, face a life of slavery." She looked into the face of Polaris, and though her lips trembled and the tears started to her gray eyes, she said bravely:
"Go to Ruthar, and come back if you can. If you do not come, I will know that you have done all that a man can do."
"I will go with you, Oleric," Polaris said simply. "Now, what is your plan?"
"This," answered the captain. "When the guards come, as they will presently, you, my brother, will go with them to the dungeons that lie below this house. Though they are cut in the rock they are lighted well and are not terrible. You will not fare badly there. The ladies will be quartered above here, and I will exert my influence to see that they are treated well. These others will not fare so well; but they are men, and can stand it. Let them do as they are bid without protest. Within ten days from this day I will plan to have you out of your prison, and will contrive, also, to bring with me Father Zenas and the captain of the ship. By stealth or by force, we shall seize a marizel, pass through the hidden canal from Adlaz to the harbor, thence to the sea and down the coast to Ruthar.
"I shall have some aid; for within the walls of Adlaz there is one other man of Ruthar who is faithful to me. You may wonder how it is that I, who am of Ruthar and hate Adlaz, yet am a captain in the service of Bel-Ar. Years ago I passed the Kimbrian Wall, coming as a spy and giving it out that I was the son of Maeronican parents taken captive in a foray; that I had been born in Ruthar, but had escaped into my own country. Here I have stayed at the bidding of the Goddess Glorian, ready against the time for which all Ruthar waits. Bel-Ar likes men of brains. I have some, and I have risen to be one of his captains. Also, I have learned much. That is all my story."
"Who is the Goddess Glorian?" Rose Emer asked. "Is she the queen of Ruthar?"
Oleric's eyes widened at the question; but he answered readily enough:
"Yes, lady; she is the queen."
"You say that there are great beasts in Ruthar," said Zenas Wright. "What are they—elephants?"
"No; they are not what you call elephants," replied the captain. "O'Connell thought they were until he saw them. Then he gave them another name, which I have forgot. He told me of elephants; but they must be puny beasts compared to those which dwell in the forests of Ruthar. We call them amalocs. This man is a giant." He pointed to Minos, who stood six feet eight on his naked feet. "But were he twice as tall, he could not look across the back of an amaloc. But they are shaped like the elephants of which O'Connell told, and, like them, they are tusked. Their bodies are covered with red wool—almost as red as is my own thatch."
"Elephas primigenius! Mammoths, no less," said Zenas. And he added under his breath, "I will believe that when I see them, my friend."
Low as were his words, Oleric heard them.
"You shall see them, Father Zenas," he said, and laughed.
Presently came the guards, and the friends were separated. Some of them were never to be reunited.
Deep in the rock below the old palace of Bel-Tisam, where Mordo ruled, the guards led Polaris Janess, and left him there. Oleric had spoken truly concerning the place, and the captive might have fared much worse in a modern prison in a civilized land. For the place was roomy and well ventilated, and, above all, it was clean. A chamber or cell, it was, some forty feet square by thirty feet in height. Its outer wall was the living rock. On the other three sides was masonry. A circular door of bronze, small and of great strength, was its only entrance.
Through that door from the corridor without stepped Polaris, and behind him, close as a shadow, padded the huge dog, Rombar, rumbling in his throat so that the guards shrank from him. The door clanged shut, and the bars and wards clashed into place. The guards had neither bound nor chained Polaris. They had not even searched his clothing. The thickness of the dungeon walls was their guarantee that he would do no mischief; and besides, they went well armed.
Air entered the chamber through mortises in the wall near the ceiling and above the ground level, where began the foundation of the palace. It was lighted by a single globe, with its enclosed curious battery—mitzl, the Maeronicans called it; but the Americans had decided that the source of the light was some new application of electricity.
By the light from the globe Polaris saw that he was not alone in the cell. A small man, whose features were concealed by a mat of unkempt gray hair and a shaggy beard, sat on a low cot in the angle of the wall nearest to the door. He was clothed in rags.
This man did not look up when another was thrust in to break his solitude, but bent low over something which he had on the cot, swaying back and forth as he sat, and crooning softly to himself.
Polaris cast his fellow prisoner a glance, and then fell to pacing up and down the length of the cell. His mood was gloomy. Above him somewhere through those gray walls dwelt his dear lady; but, ah, how far away! For he was powerless now to comfort her or to aid. Oleric would keep faith. Of that he was sure; but his heart misgave him mightily lest the plans of the captain should go awry.
Yes; above him were Rose and Lady Memene, who through the long weeks of their prisonment, each night when they went to rest, would kneel and pray for his welfare and that of Minos and the others, and that all plans might prevail.
Presently the son of the snows sat himself on a second cot on the far side of the chamber, and fell to fondling Rombar and toying with the dog's pointed ears.
"Good Rombar," he said. "Good fellow and comrade."
At his words, the man in the corner sprang up from his cot as though fire had touched him. He shrieked hoarsely and tottered across the floor, moving and clawing at the air with his hands. Unheeding the snarling menace of Rombar, he came on until he stood in front of the cot where Polaris sat holding the dog back by the collar.
The man bent over, resting his hands on his knees, and peered into Polaris's face with darkling, rheumy eyes.
"Hinglish!" he croaked, gasping for his breath. "Hinglish! Did Hi 'ear a Hinglish word, or was I a-dreamin'? Sye?"
He trembled in a terrible eagerness.
"You did, indeed," Polaris said gently. "Now tell me how you came here, who speak it also, and who are you?"
"Gor'bly me; Hi never 'oped to 'ear another Hinglish word in this life—me wot's rottin' 'ere into my grave!" the man said. "Gor'! Gor'!" He subsided into a tattered heap on the floor of the cell, covered his eyes with his shaking, grimy hands, and sobbed hysterically.
Restraining the dog, which would have sprung upon the weeping man, Polaris leaned forward and patted the poor fellow on the shoulder.
"Who are you, and how do you come to be in a Maeronican dungeon?" he asked.
"Jack Melton's me nyme, sir," the man said brokenly. "Hi'm from old Lunnon, Gor' bless 'er! Hi was cook on the ship Aldine, sir, from 'Ong-Kong to Durban, round the Cape. We got off our course, and the bloody devils sunk us—skewered us like a mutton shank, sir, with a streak of light. An' w'y in 'ell they did it, sir, is more than Hi can tell.
"Hi floated free on a cask—a biscuit cask, sir. Or mayhap it was a 'encoop; Hi've forgot, Hi was that flustered. Hup bobs a bloomin' big gold ball from the sea—it's Gord's truth. They took me aboard, an' they brought me ashore. They sets me to work in their mines; but Hi'd not do a stroke for them, sir. Hi near killed one of the bosses. Then they brought me here, sir. Oh, Gor'! Oh, Gor'-a-me!"
He broke out weeping afresh and rocked himself back and forth.
"How long have you been here?" questioned Polaris.
"That Hi can't tell, sir," Melton replied. "Hi used to keep count of the weeks an' months; but Hi lost it. Mayhap 'alf a year; mayhap a year."
Melton fell silent for a time. Then he chuckled to himself and tottered to his feet.
"Hi'll get even with 'em, sir," he said. "Never fear; Hi'll get even. Come an' see, sir."
He took Polaris by the hand and led him across the floor to the other cot. "Look!" he said, and fumbled back the ragged covers.
Beady black eyes glistened among the rags. A sharp and whiskered gray snout was thrust forth, twitching and sniffing; then another and another. A mother rat and two half-grown young ones were hidden in Melton's bed. Out they crept to their master's coaxing, only to scurry back, squeaking, when Rombar thrust his head from behind Polaris, whining with eagerness to be at them.
"Keep the tyke back, sir," said Melton. "'E frights 'em. This 'ere's 'Enrietta, an' 'ere's Bobby an' Bill. 'Enrietta's an old fool, an' Bobby's no better; but Bill, 'e's a wonner, sir. See!"
From his breast he took a splinter of wood, to which was attached a bit of frayed red rag, on which he had rudely drawn in black the lines of the Union Jack. He placed one of the young rats on his palm, and laid the sliver with its frayed shred of bunting in front of the little animal. Softly he began to whistle the bars of "God Save the King."
"Come, Bill; 'urry," he said, and resumed his low whistling. The rat took up the flag in its teeth and sat on its haunches in its master's hand. As long as the whistling continued the little beast shook its head vigorously, waving the tiny emblem. When Melton ceased the anthem, Bill let fall the flag and swarmed, squeaking, down the man's arm, to nestle away among the rags at his breast.
"Gor'bly me, Bill, you're a wonner!" Melton said with pride. He placed his strange pet back with the others and pulled the coverlet over them.
"Listen. Hi'll tell you wot no man knows," he whispered to Janess. "They're hoff a plyge-ship. 'Enrietta an' Bobby an' Bill is. They carried it to us from a bloomin' junk at 'Ong-Kong. The cap'n was dyin' of it in 'is cabin when the ship went down, sir. And Hi'm a-nursin' of 'em along, sir. Hi saved 'Enrietta, and she became a mother, sir. When there's enough of them, Hi shall loose them, sir. That's 'ow Hi'll get even. Gor'bly me! Hi'll kill hevery beggar in this land with the plyge. 'Enrietta an' Bobby an' Bill will do it, sir."
Melton sat down on his cot again, and crooned to himself over his pets. He seemed to forget the presence of Janess. Neither then or afterward did he ask Polaris any questions as to how he came to share his prison. Polaris drew away from him and went back to his own side of the cell. He saw that the man was mad.
Twice each day one of Mordo's guards brought the captives their meals—bread and meat and water in generous measure, enough for the men and the dog. Melton from his rations fed his whiskered family.
With his pocket-knife and a bit of wood from the frame of his cot, the son of the snows made shift to keep track of the passing of the days, cutting a nick in the wood for each. "God send that they be not many before the coming of Oleric," he prayed fervently.
One night he was startled from his sleep by an uproar in the chamber. Melton's cursing and shrieking was intermingled with the angry snarls of Rombar. Polaris sprang up and threw off the cloth with which he was wont to darken the mitzl globe when he slept.
Melton was crouched in the middle of the cell. His face was livid and contorted. Tears of rage were on his cheeks, and his breath was coming in gasps. His lips were writhed away from his ragged teeth. In front of him, tensed and ready to spring, was Rombar. On the floor, where it had dropped from the dog's jaws, lay a little bundle of gray fur, still twitching feebly.
Before the impending grapple, Polaris bounded between them and jerked the dog back by the collar.
"What is it?" he cried. "What ails you, Melton?"
Then Janess saw the maimed little fragment of life on the floor, and his face saddened.
"'Fore Gord, 'e's murdered my 'Enrietta!" howled Melton. "The tyke's murdered 'er, Hi sye! And Hi'll kill 'im, Hi will—and you, too, if you tries to stop me! And you, too, Hi says!"
He staggered toward Janess and lunged out with his right hand. Something glistened in the light as he struck. Polaris avoided the blow, and caught and wrenched the outstretched arm. A slender bar of iron fell tinkling to the floor. Janess picked it up. Where it had come from he did not know; but Melton, by patient rubbing against the stones of the wall, had ground it to a needle point.
"Let me at 'im!" the crazed man shrieked. "Hi'll tear 'im with me bare 'ands!"
Polaris pushed him back.
"I am sorry, very sorry, for what he has done," he said. "But he is my good friend, and I shall not let him come to harm. He did but follow the instincts of his nature."
Melton stared at him for a moment, and then, weeping and cursing, retired to his cot. Far into the night Polaris heard him moaning and mumbling to himself, and pitied him.
Janess hid the weapon under his own pillow. Then with strips of his bedding he wove a stout cord, and thereafter when he slept he tied Rombar fast to a leg of the bed.
Days passed away—ten days, eleven, twelve, and still another. And yet there was no sign of Oleric. Polaris's stout heart sank.
In the dark hours of the fourteenth day he awoke. He heard the grating of bronze hinges. At the side of his bed, Rombar growled softly. Polaris snatched the hood from the light.
The door of bronze was open. The mitzl rays shone on the tall form of a man in golden armor.
Oleric had come!
"I am late at my tryst," whispered the red captain, "but I could not manage it sooner. Now we must haste, or 'twill be too late forever." He grinned. "I see your beard has grown somewhat," he said. "Perchance those bristles shall serve well. You are an ill man to disguise. Who is here?" he asked as he caught sight for the first time of Melton, who had not awakened.
"A poor crazed English sailor," Polaris answered. He crossed the chamber, with Rombar at his heels; for he had stopped to undo the rope.
"What? The brute, too?" groaned Oleric.
"I fear we must," Polaris said. "If I leave him, he will rouse the prison with his howling, and I will not slay him. He has been too good a friend. Can we not manage to take him?"
"Aye; bring him," grumbled the captain. "First fetch yonder light."
Janess took down the globe. As he swung it toward Oleric, he saw that the hands of the captain were splashed red with blood. Oleric noted his glance.
"Dead men are behind us," he said. "Thrice to-night have I used my sword—once at the mines, where I got Everson, and twice above. Two of the men of Mordo will turn no more prison keys. Come!"
He stepped cautiously out through the door.
Polaris glanced across to where the mad Cockney lay breathing heavily.
"Some day, if it be given me, I will open this door again and set you free, John Melton," he whispered.
He stooped and went out through the doorway, and Rombar followed.
Outside the door of the dungeon-chamber Polaris stumbled over the form of a tall man in armor, who lay with his face to the floor.
"More death?" Janess asked of Oleric, who busied himself with the bolts of the bronze door.
"Not so," said the captain with a chuckle, as he shot the last bar home in its socket. "Only the death that good wines bring. He has the best part of seven bottles in his skin."
He looked up at Polaris apologetically.
"Bel-Ar would flay him for this night's work, did he find him," he said. "You say the dog has been a good friend to you. Well, this man Mordo, with all his glum ways, is a good fellow. I will not leave my old drinking companion to the mercy of Bel-Ar."
Without answer, Polaris handed the light to Oleric, and stooped and swung the limp figure of Mordo to his shoulder.
Oleric glanced at the keys in his hand and then at the door.
"I'll not turn the locks," he said. "I would not have the poor slave within starve while they made new keys."
He led the way along the corridor, past a broad stone stairway, to the south wall of the old palace, where it fronted on the black avenue called Chedar's Flight. There in the wall were other doors of bronze. Oleric paused before one of them.
"Will I ever enter Mordo's wine-cellars again, I wonder?" he said. He found the key and opened the heavy door. Within, the light disclosed rack after rack, seemingly without end, of dust-covered flagons. They threaded their way among them until Oleric found what he sought. In the stone floor of the chamber in a far corner was a round trap-door of bronze. The captain had to tug one of the wine-racks to one side to disclose it.
"Lay Mordo down, comrade, and help," he said, when his utmost strength had failed to stir the door.
Polaris, still balancing his burden on his shoulder, bent down and caught the ancient ring of the door in one hand. Before Oleric could lay hold to help him he straightened, the mighty muscles of his back cracking with the effort. The door was open.
The trap yawned on a dark stairway leading down through the rock. Far below sounded the plashing of waters. "Mind where you set your feet," warned Oleric as he started down.
"Where are Everson and the old man?" asked Polaris.
"They wait us below in the hidden canal—they and one other," replied the captain. "They entered by another way, while I was busied in the house of Mordo."
Oleric closed the trap and left the keys on the stair-top. Down fully threescore steps they went, and stood on a wharf of stone at the edge of a narrow canal that had been cut in the rock. Overhead, the roof was arched and vaulted. At the lip of the wharf was moored a small marizel, the golden plates of which caught the rays of the lamplike fire.
"All the way from the Temple of the Sun to the harbor of Adlaz this canal leads, cut through the rock underneath Chedar's Flight," said Oleric. He stepped on the rear deck of the little craft and struck softly on its door, which was opened at once. A short man of middle age came onto the deck. He was clothed in the garb of a sailor. As the light fell on him, Polaris saw that his hair was almost as red as that of Oleric.
"Now here is another good man of Ruthar," said the captain. And to the man he said, "Urk, this is the man whereof I have told you." From head to foot, Urk gave the son of the snows a long and searching glance. Then he folded his arms on his breast and bowed low.
With Mordo on his shoulder, Polaris stepped onto the deck and through the door, followed by Rombar.
Oleric closed the double doors of the craft, and Urk, who was skilled about the engines, at once got her under way. Submerged and showing no light, they crept cautiously down the canal toward the sea.
In the cabin of the marizel were Everson and Wright—though Polaris had to look twice and then again to recognize the geologist. Zenas wore the mean black of a servant in the king's kitchens. His white hair had been bobbed and his beard shaved from him. But his little black eyes were as bright and restless as ever, and his voice was hearty as he wrung the hand of Polaris and said:
"Lordy, son, but it's good to see you."
Everson, who had discarded the dirty garments of a delver in the earth for the full golden armor of a Maeronican captain, caught Polaris's hand as Zenas relinquished it.
"Our work has begun," he said, "and begun well. I shall distrust this man no more." He pointed to Oleric. "He has kept his promise in blood. He released me to-night, and he killed a man to do it."
As they neared the harbor, Oleric explained that they would be forced to leave the marizel in the canal and cross the open court of the harbor to the wharves.
"Else we must undergo inspection by the guards at the mouth of the canal," he said. "There is a gate there, and no marizel may pass without inspection. My lucky star it was that made Bel-Ar name me captain of the port in Atlo's stead. But even I could not pass you through the guards. Their eyes are keen, and one of us at least is a marked man in Adlaz." He glanced at Polaris. "There be too many of them to slay," he added. "I would have fitted you out with a suit of mail, brother; but there is none in Maeronica of a size to cover those shoulders of yours—unless it be that of Bel-Ar, which I could not well borrow."
"When we leave this craft, what then, Oleric?" Polaris asked.
"I have another waiting at the end of the southern quay," replied Oleric. "Urk knows the harbor as he knows the palm of his hand. Once through the outer channel, then down the coast to Ruthar."
They left the marizel moored in the canal and went up through a passage in the rock to where a door led into the great arched tunnel above, where Chedar's Flight ended at the harbor of Adlaz town. Now there was only the crossing of the wharf and all would be well.
But hark! As Oleric laid his hand on the door of the passage, came the thunder of hoofs through the tunnel, and a steel rider on a white horse flashed past and clattered across the court to the warehouses. He rode furiously, and as he neared the quays he cried out.
Oleric tore the door open.
"Our work behind there is overtaking us!" he cried. "We must run for it!"
Polaris shifted Mordo's weight from his shoulder to his arms and bounded across the pavement at the heels of the captain. Behind came Wright, Everson, and Oleric's Rutharian henchman. Rombar leaped at the side of Polaris.
Lights flashed ahead of them as they ran. When they neared the south quay, they saw that the way to it was barred by a thin line of men in steel, among whom glittered the golden armor of the captain of the canal guard.
Casting a glance over his shoulder as he ran, to note the disposal of his own party, Oleric drew his sword and charged the line. The guard captain leaped out to meet him, shield up and sword aloft. Him Oleric cut down with a single stroke, laughing as he struck. In another instant Everson's blade was out and busy. His cutlass exercises at old Annapolis stood him well. The line of steel gave. The other three fugitives, running together, dashed through and gained the quay. But behind them came many men.
Polaris laid Mordo on the wharf and looked about him for a weapon. The door of the nearest warehouse was made fast with a bar of bronze or steel, nearly eight feet in length. Janess tore it from its rests. At the end of the quay he saw the marizel of Oleric riding in its moorings, and saw that Urk had clambered aboard it and was making all ready to cast off.
Whirling his ponderous weapon, which was a weight to tax the strength of an ordinary man to lift from the ground, Polaris rushed into the thick of the press, where the red captain and the naval lieutenant fought side by side.
"Get you to the boat!" he shouted. "When all is ready, whistle that I may know."
Clang! The metal bar fell, and three men in steel went down under its sweep. With the agility of a panther, the son of the snows leaped and struck again. At his side black Rombar raged like a demon. Before those terrible blows no man, however well begirt in steel, could stand and live.
The Maeronican fighting men drew back, aghast. The way to the wharf was clear.
Laughing aloud, Oleric drew out of the fight and ran along the wharf to the marizel. Everson paused at the side of Polaris.
"Best go on," Janess told him. "I shall need no aid. Or, if you stay, stand to one side a bit. I have need for much room."
Once more the Maeronican men-at-arms closed in. Polaris, with his bar, charged them, shouting; for his blood was up. They should take him back to no dungeon when his freedom beckoned so near. Two more armored men fell, their mail cracking like egg-shell under the clanging flail that opposed them. Another went down under the murderous jaws of Rombar who fought at his master's thigh.
Loud and clear then sounded the whistle of Oleric. Hurling the bar in the faces of the bewildered men of the guard, the son of the snows ran to the end of the wharf and sprang to the deck of the marizel. Everson entered the door just ahead of him. Oleric and Urk already had stowed Mordo within the vessel and cut loose the mooring ropes.
As he paused for an instant on the rear deck to call the great dog to him, Polaris saw a giant figure come from one of the stone warehouses and run out to the end of the next quay. In the dusk, and at that distance, he yet was able to recognize Minos.
"It is I, Polaris!" Janess shouted. "We leave for Ruthar, if we may win through. Farewell for a space, until we come again."
Back came the deep voice of the king in answer:
"Fare thee well, my brother!" he cried in the ancient Greek of Sardanes. "May the high God guide thy footsteps."
Many a time in after years did the son of the snows recall to mind that scene: the great, circular basin of the harbor of Adlaz, dim under the light from the stars; the glittering fademes that were riding at anchor; the twinkling of mitzl globes along the wharves, where men ran to and fro; the court and its huge, black archway; the armored men of the guard coming on across the wharf; and the tall form of the Sardanian king standing at the end of the quay and waving farewell.
Reenforcements had come to the Maeronican guards, and they rushed the quay. But Urk had his engine going. The marizel shot out into the harbor. In a moment more the little craft had dived beneath the surface. Like an arrow, it clove through the under water. Crafty steersman was Urk. Through the harbor he drove the marizel in safety, and through the tunnel to the sea, meeting no incoming danger. Once out of the channel, he turned the nose of the craft southward, down the coast toward Ruthar.
Miles away, amid the dim Rutharian forests, fierce-eyed men gripped their sword-hilts firmer, and prayed to their stars and their goddess for the safe making of that journey and the glory of the war that was to come. For word had come to Ruthar—over the Kimbrian Wall it had come—that Oleric the Red had turned his face toward home again, bringing with him the man for whom a nation waited.