At the Queen's Mercy

by Mabel Fuller Blodgett

The foremost dropped before me, shot through the heart, and the second.

They paused for an instant in their onward rush, but I thought not so much with fear or surprise, as in obedience to a command. Then they pressed forward. My rifle emptied itself into the compact living mass. Lestrade was close behind. I seized the barrel in my hand, and the first oncomer fell like an ox beneath the blow.

So, thrusting, beating down the line of shining weapons, I clove my way through, and for me there was no weariness, nor fear, nor prick of bodily hurt. Only that fierce gladness, that inasmuch as it is the man’s portion, transcends the lot of woman. There was one strange thing I noted even in the midst of the tumult. The warriors seemed bound by some observance to disable rather than to wound us. They struck heavily, it is true, but with the flat of their swords, and this I could see was from no love of the stranger.

Hate flashed from their eyes and rang in their voices; so as I laid stoutly about me, I did so with the more good-will in that I felt myself reserved with Lestrade for some more devoted sacrifice than was possible at the moment.

On a sudden the howling horde melted away, and a new enemy appeared. Down the open space, with great leaps, and with a cry, half bestial, half human in its malice, it came. A gray, furry body, fantastically striped in red and blue, two shining, bead-like eyes. This I saw; the next instant two sinewy claw-like hands were at my throat, and we were rolling over and over in the dust, the creature biting and striving to smother me in its embrace. It was strong, and it knew the tricks of wrestling. For a time neither one of us could boast of vantage.

The fight had ceased, and I dimly saw Lestrade trussed into a helpless bundle and lying upon the ground. The people of the Walled City stood in silence, resting upon their arms, like warriors of bronze.

Then the inward fury that consumed me stiffened my muscles to steel. My knee rested on the creature’s hairy chest. I seized its jaw in my hand, and forced its head slowly, slowly back.

Its eyes rolled in helpless fury; its great teeth were ground together in a rage that defied me to the worst; the tongue protruded. There was a quick snap like the breaking of sugar-cane. The giant head rolled limply to one side; the long arms relaxed their pressure. A wail of sorrow and of anger rose from the waiting throng; I stood one instant, conqueror and free! In another, I was brought heavily to my knees, and the meshes of a net encompassed me. The horde of warriors fell into line. A litter of crossed spears was quickly made, and Lestrade and I were hoisted up and so with ignominy carried onward as is a bale of goods to the warehouse. Through the cleft in the wall of the Pass of Blood, which closed with ominous silence behind us; on through a passage-way, deep, narrow, hewn out of the solid rock; so once more were we borne close guarded, into the sunlight, and within the City of the worshippers of the serpent god, the City of our golden dreams and the dead priest’s promise.

The street that opened was straight and wide, and bordered by houses of good size, generally of one story only, but built in every case of stone. Lestrade and I had never seen the like in all Africa, and the smooth, hard roadbed over which we were carried was another proof of the skill of this strange people.

Now that the stress of battle was over, I could look about me. From the open doorways of the houses peered a curious throng, men, children, and women also, but these last were close veiled, much to my good Gaston’s disappointment, as I could see.