“The watcher, of course,” replied the king, smiling, as he caught what he thought was the joke. “We remove them then, stuff them with garlic, pine-apple, and bananas, and slightly roast them within tamarisk leaves. I shall send you a dish of them tonight. They are most delicate in flavour and rarely succulent.”
Ned bowed. He felt like kicking this callous and cowardly fiend, but policy forced him to dissemble.
“It will be also strictly necessary for you to take with you some royal gifts, so as to give colour to your leaving. I have control of the queen’s treasure-house, and I shall attend to this, and send you some of our artwork in gold, with a few good stones. I shall also give you, as a parting gift from myself, some dainties of my own preparing to partake of on your journey.”
Sotu smiled gently as he said these words, and took his departure.
“Have nothing to do with the king’s quails and dainties. He is an adept at poisoning, and he only smiles like that when he meditates torture and death,” said Pylea, earnestly, as soon as the royal wretch had gone.
“He is a genial gentleman,” replied Ned, lightly. “I wonder he hasn’t long since poisoned his wife.”
“He dare not, for his own sake. When she dies his daughter will reign, and her first act will be to strangle her father.”
“Blessed King Sotu!—happy land!” said our heroes.
By sundown they were all prepared to leave. In the dusk several mutes brought the promised gifts from the treasury. Some time afterwards the dainties arrived in golden vessels.
Our heroes emptied the eatables out on a shrub-covered part of the garden, but the dishes they packed up with the other articles of virtu. There were a water bag full of large diamonds, and over three hundredweight of cups, vases, and images of gods made from the purest gold. The hearts of our adventurers beat lightly as they distributed this precious weight amongst their packages.