Zobo, turning, walked straight to the throne of Lah. As he reached it, I saw his lips move in a vain effort at speech. Then his giant body swayed and fell heavily. The Queen’s Champion lay, face downward, at her feet, his hand holding fast the hem of her garment.
From the ranks of the people burst forth the thunder of applause. For, behold the gods had sat in judgment. The Queen was guiltless, and the day was won.
Chapter XVII
Check to the Queen
From my loophole I had seen it all. From that same post of vantage, I now beheld the arch-traitor Agno come forth at the head of his fawning priests to do homage to his Queen. Through all the false ardor of his congratulations, Lah had not spoken. Indeed, from the very beginning of the conflict till now no word had passed her lips. Only in the midst of Agno’s discourse, at a sign from their royal mistress, four slaves had raised the body of the fallen hero, and borne him within the Palace. As they passed, the Queen’s hand had rested lightly upon her Champion’s forehead, in a mute caress. That was all, but I knew that Lah was not ungrateful.
The High Priest’s long-winded flatteries were not done, when at another sign from the Queen, the royal salute broke forth from the guard and was echoed by the people. The mighty clamor drowned the honeyed words, and I saw Agno’s face writhe with passion, as Lah, with an imperious gesture, bade him stand aside. But for once her woman’s hate had outrun her wisdom. The public affront was too great to be silently borne. Another moment, and Agno, surrounded by his priests, had reached his raised seat of honor, and from thence had begun a wild address to the still waiting throng.
In the face of the late decision of Edba and of Hed, the High Priest dared not impeach the Queen. His words, however, were aimed at her new-born power, and they were full of painful interest to me who listened, for they dealt with me and with my comrade, and with Astolba, my promised bride.
“All glory, honor, and strength to Lah!” he shouted. “Friend of the gods; heaven-born mistress of the people of the Walled City. Behold Zobo the Mighty has wrestled, and to him belongs the victory. I, the High Priest of the Temple, proclaim a festival; a feast of gladness and of thanksgiving.
“On the third day hence shall it be, and on the altar of the gods will we slay the strangers and do to death her, the Snake’s chosen bride. So shall the Queen be rid of her enemies, peace and prosperity given to us, and the anger of the great ones turned away.”
At these words the bloodthirsty crowd went once again wild with joy. I saw the Queen turn as though about to speak, but the deafening clamor would have drowned her voice. I think at least she saw Agno’s evil, smiling face, and dared not run the risk of insult. So in proud silence she drew back. The Palace gates closed behind her, and I, with a new anxiety gnawing at my heart, turned also to seek my fellow-victims.
This was the sad end of a brilliant beginning. As I passed the Queen’s private audience room, the sound of a strange low chant drew me closer. The tapestried curtain was pulled a little aside, and within I saw the red witch bending over a brazier, and showing dim through the blue smoke that coiled upward, serpent-like, from the living embers. She it was who chanted this weird monotonous refrain, and as I looked again, I beheld Lah, pale and rigid, listening, with a look of mingled dread and longing, to the evil song.