The time-raider

by Edmond Hamilton

I came to love my four new-found friends, in those days. Four men, out of four different centuries, and different in temperament as they were, yet strong bonds of friendship sprang up between them and myself, and Lantin also.

From the beginning, I had felt attracted to Denham, for he was more of my own time and way of thinking than the rest. Fastidious, elegant even, in manner, and of an indolent disposition naturally, yet he was terribly quick in battle, his slim rapier flashing out resistlessly even while he yawned in his opponent's face. He was a good bit of a fop, and it was a source of constant mirth to us to watch him cleaning and patching his ragged suit, and anxiously assuring himself of the fit of the torn coat. But at all our jests, he would smile quietly, and go on with his work.

A great deal different was D'Alord, though he attracted me as much. Swearing, laughing, shouting, he was never quiet, never still, and even in the cramped pit lived with a magnificent gusto that was enviable. He was very quick to take offense, and the rest of us had trouble always in keeping him from embroiling us in some senseless quarrel, but he was as quick to forget the cause of offense, and was incapable of holding a grudge. More than the rest of us, he loved fighting for its own sake, and was so much in his element in the pit that he sometimes declared that if it were not for the lack of wine and women, he would be content to stay in the pit forever.

Some few years older than the rest of us was the Roman, who had followed the insignia of his legion over all the distant frontiers of the Empire, from Parthia to Britain. He was never excited, and never unprepared, a calm, fearless veteran, who made me understand something of the greatness of his people, who reared up the greatest empire in history, and stamped their language and their customs on half the world.

Strangest of the four, perhaps, was the Aztec. Quiet, even gentle, when not provoked; yet I have never seen such tigerish fury as he exhibited in battle. He had a great name as a fighter, even in that city of warriors, and was feared by the most fearless. He could handle his saw-toothed sword with wonderful skill and quickness, and I shuddered at the gashing wounds he inflicted with it. As staunch and faithful a friend as I have ever had or seen, yet to those he hated he was a terrible enemy.

Always, while we five roamed through the city, we searched for Cannell, but found him not. I began to think that, after all, Cannell was not in the pit, for though it was possible we had missed him in the swirling hordes, it was equally possible that he had been killed in some combat here or above, and that he now walked dead-alive through the city of the Kanlars as one of the ghastly, white-robed slaves.

But Lantin would not believe that. He searched from dawn to darkness of each day, and was not discouraged when he failed to find his friend. He did not accompany us five in our rambles through the city, preferring to search alone, and though we were fearful for his safety, he was never molested. His obvious elderliness, and the gentleness and inoffensiveness of his nature, served to protect him from the constant bullying and fighting that went on in the pit.

The days dragged past, and working in odd hours when we were not noticed, we managed to make a metal grappling-hook and a long rope. The hook was much like a triple fishing-hook, large enough to catch on the wall of the stair, and was hammered out from pieces wrenched from metal chairs. The rope, a long and very strong one, was braided from long strips of torn cloth, and was knotted to make easier an ascent along its length. Both rope and hook lay concealed beneath the bunk of D'Alord, in a cunningly contrived little hiding place there.

So we came at last to the eighth day, the night of which would be moonless on the earth above, with consequent darkness below. As the day wore on, we grew increasingly nervous, with the exception of Fabrius, who appeared as imperturbable as ever. Finally the light from the roof waned and died, and a thick darkness settled down on the city, a darkness relieved only by one or two of the glowing red bulbs that were set around the gate of the stair, and along the nine streets.

An hour passed, and another, and another. Then Denham rose from his bunk and sauntered leisurely out of the room, followed in a few minutes by D'Alord and the Aztec. By now the bunks were filled with snoring sleepers, but as the two went across the room to the door, none of these stirred, so Lantin, Fabrius and I followed, the Roman carrying the hook and rope concealed under his cloak.