Chapter 5 The Land of Hidden Men by Edgar Rice Burroughs
The Capture
“Let us sit down upon this fallen tree,” said Fou-tan, “and I shall tell you why I do not wish to return to Lodidhapura.”
As they seated themselves, King became acutely conscious of the marked physical attraction that this girl of a forgotten age exercised over him. Every movement of her lithe body, every gesture of her graceful arms and hands, each changing expression of her beautiful face and eyes were provocative. She radiated magnetism. He sensed it in the reaction of his skin, his eyes, his nostrils. It was as though ages of careful selection had produced her for the purpose of arousing in man the desire of possession, and yet there enveloped her a divine halo of chastity that aroused within his breast the protective instinct that governs the attitude of a normal man toward a woman that Fate has thrown into his keeping. Never in his life had King been similarly attracted to any woman.
“Why do you look at me so?” she inquired suddenly.
“Forgive me,” said King simply. “Go on with your story.”
“I am from Pnom Dhek,” said Fou-tan, “where Beng Kher is king. Pnom Dhek is a greater city than Lodidhapura; Beng Kher is a mightier king than Lodivarman.
“Bharata Rahon desired me. He wished to take me to wife. I pleaded with my father the—I pleaded with my father not to give me in marriage to Bharata Rahon; but he told me that I did not know my own mind, that I only thought that I did not like Bharata Rahon, that he would make me a good husband, and that after we were married I should be happy.
“I knew that I must do something to convince my father that my mind and soul sincerely revolted at the thought of mating with Bharata Rahon, and so I conceived the idea of running away and going out into the jungle that I might prove that I preferred death to the man my father had chosen for me.
“I did not want to die. I wanted them to come and find me very quickly, and when night came I was terrified. I climbed into a tree where I crouched in terror. I heard My Lord the Tiger pass beneath in the darkness of the night, and my fear was so great that I thought that I should faint and fall into his clutches; yet when day came again I was still convinced that I would rather lie in the arms of My Lord the Tiger than in those of Bharata Rahon, who is a loathsome man whose very name I detest.
“Yet I moved back in the direction of Pnom Dhek, or rather I thought that I did, though now I am certain that I went in the opposite direction. I hoped that searchers sent out by my father would find me, for I did not wish to return of my own volition to Pnom Dhek.
“The day dragged on and I met no searchers, and once again I became terrified, for I knew that I was lost in the jungle. Then I heard the heavy tread of an elephant and the clank of arms and men’s voices, and I was filled with relief and gratitude, for I thought at last that the searchers were about to find me.
“But when the warriors came within view, I saw that they wore the armour of Lodivarman. I was terrified and tried to escape them, but they had seen me and they pursued me. Easily they overtook me, and great was their joy when they looked upon me.
“‘Lodivarman will reward us handsomely,’ they cried, ‘when he sees that which we have brought to him from Pnom Dhek.’
“So they placed me in the howdah upon the elephant’s back and took me through the jungle to Lodidhapura, where I was immediately taken into the presence of Lodivarman.
“Oh, Gordon King, that was a terrible moment. I was terrified when I found myself so close to the leper king of Lodidhapura. He is covered with great sores, where leprosy is devouring him. That day he was ugly and indifferent. He scarcely looked at me, but ordered that I should be taken to the quarters of the apsarases, and so I became a dancing girl at the court of the leper king.
“Not in a thousand years, Gordon King, could I explain to you what I suffered each time that we came before Lodivarman to dance. Each sore upon his repulsive body seemed to reach out to seize and contaminate me. It was with the utmost difficulty that, half fainting, I went through the ritual of the dance.
“I tried to hide my face from him, for I knew that I was beautiful and I knew the fate of beautiful women in the court of Lodivarman.
“But at last, one day, I realised that he had noticed me. I saw his dead eyes following me about. We were dancing in the great hall where he holds his court. Lodivarman was seated upon his throne. The lead-covered walls of the great apartment were gorgeous with paintings and with hangings. Beneath our feet were the polished flagstones of the floor, but they seemed softer to me than the heart of Lodivarman.
“At last the dance was done, and we were permitted to retire to our apartments. Presently there came to me a captain of the King’s household, resplendent in his gorgeous trappings.
“‘The King has looked upon you,’ said he, ‘and would honour you as befits your beauty.’
“‘It is sufficient honour,’ I replied, ‘to dance in the palace of Lodivarman.’
“‘You are about to receive a more signal manifestation of the King’s honour,’ he replied.
“‘I am satisfied as I am,’ I said.
“‘It is not for you to choose, Fou-tan,’ replied the messenger. ‘The King has chosen you as his newest concubine. Rejoice, therefore, in the knowledge that some day you may become queen.’
“I could have fainted at the very horror of the suggestion. What could I do? I must gain time. I thought of suicide, but I am young, and I do not wish to die. ‘When must I come?’ I asked.
“‘You will be given time to prepare yourself,’ replied the messenger. ‘For three days the women will bathe and anoint your body, and upon the fourth day you will be conducted to the King.’
“Four days! In four days I must find some way in which to escape the horrid fate to which my beauty had condemned me. ‘Go!’ I said. ‘Leave me in peace for the four days that remain to me of even a semblance of happiness in life.’
“The messenger, grinning, withdrew, and I threw myself upon my pallet and burst into tears. That night the apsarases were to dance in the moonlight in the courtyard before the temple of Siva; and though they would have insisted that my preparation for the honour that was to be bestowed upon me should commence at once, I begged that I might once more, and for the last time, join with my companions in honouring Siva, the Destroyer.
“It was a dark night. The flares that illumined the courtyard cast a wavering light in which exaggerated shadows of the apsarases danced grotesquely. In the dance I wore a mask, and my position was at the extreme left of the last line of apsarases. I was close to the line of spectators that encircled the courtyard, and in some of the movements of the dance I came quite close enough to touch them. This was what I had hoped for.
“All the time that I was dancing I was perfecting in my mind the details of a plan that had occurred to me earlier in the day. The intricate series of postures and steps, with which I had been familiar since childhood, required of me but little mental concentration. I went through them mechanically, my thoughts wholly centred upon the mad scheme that I had conceived. I knew that at one point in the dance the attention of all the spectators would be focused upon a single apsaras, whose position was in the centre of the first line, and when this moment arrived I stepped quickly into the line of spectators.
“Those in my immediate vicinity noticed me, but to these I explained that I was ill and was making my way back to the temple. A little awed by my close presence, they let me pass unmolested, for in the estimation of the people the persons of the apsarases are almost holy.
“Behind the last line of the audience rose a low wall that surrounds the temple courtyard. Surmounting it at intervals rise the beautifully carved stone figures of the seven-headed cobra—emblem of the Royal Nagas. Deep were the shadows between them; and while all eyes were fixed upon the leading apsaras, I clambered quickly to the top of the low wall, where for a moment I hid in the shadow of a great Naga. Below me, black, mysterious, terrifying, lay the dark waters of the moat, beneath the surface of which lived the crocodiles placed there by the King to guard the Holy of Holies. Upon the opposite side the level of the water was but a few inches below the surface of the broad avenue that leads to the stables where the King’s elephants are kept. The avenues were deserted, for all who dwelt within the walls of the royal enclosure were watching the dance of the apsarases.
“To Brahma, to Vishnu, and to Siva I breathed a prayer, and then I slid as quietly as possible down into the terrifying waters of the moat. Quickly I struck out for the opposite side, every instant expecting to feel the hideous jaws of a crocodile close upon me; but my prayers had been heard, and I reached the avenue in safety.
“I was forced to climb two more walls before I could escape from the royal enclosure and from the city. My wet and bedraggled costume was torn, and my hands and face were scratched and bleeding before I succeeded.
“At last I was in the jungle, confronted by danger more deadly, yet far less horrible, than that from which I had escaped. How I survived that night and this day I do not know. And now the end would have come but for you, Gordon King.”
As King gazed at the sensitive face and delicately moulded figure of the girl beside him, he marvelled at the courage and strength of will, seemingly so out of proportion to the frail temple that housed them, that had sustained her in the conception and execution of an adventure that might have taxed the courage and stamina of a warrior. “You are a brave girl, Fou-tan,” he said.
“The daughter of my father could not be less,” she replied simply.
“You are a daughter of whom any father might be proud,” said King, “but if we are to save you for him we had better be thinking about getting to the dwelling of Che and Kangrey before night falls.”
“Who are these people?” asked Fou-tan. “Perhaps they will return me to Lodidhapura for the reward that Lodivarman will pay.”
“You need have no fear on that score,” replied King. “They are honest people, runaway slaves from Lodidhapura. They have been kind to me, and they will be kind to you.”
“And if they are not, you will protect me,” said Fou-tan with a tone of finality that evidenced the confidence which she already felt in the dependability and integrity of her newfound friend.
As they set out in the direction of Che’s dwelling, it became apparent to King immediately that Fou-tan was tired almost to the point of exhaustion. Will-power and nerve had sustained her so far; but now, with the discovery of someone to whom she might transfer the responsibility of her safety, the reaction had come; and he often found it necessary to assist and support her over the rough places of the trail. She was small and light, and where the going was exceptionally bad he lifted her in his arms and carried her as he might have a child.
“You are strong, Gordon King,” she said once as he carried her thus. Her soft arms were around his neck, her lips were very close to his.
“I must need be strong,” he said. But if she sensed his meaning she gave no evidence of it. Her eyes closed wearily and her little head dropped to his shoulder. He carried her thus for a long way, though the trail beneath his feet was smooth and hard.
Vama and his warriors had halted in a little glade where there was water. While two of them hunted in the forest for meat for their supper, the others lay stretched out upon the ground in that silence which is induced by hunger and fatigue. Presently Vama sat up alert. His ears had caught the sound of the approach of something through the jungle.
“Kau and Tchek are returning from the hunt,” whispered one of the warriors who lay near him and who, also, had heard the noise.
“They did not go in that direction,” replied Vama in a low tone. Then signalling his warriors to silence, he ordered them to conceal themselves from view.
The sound, already close when they had first heard it, approached steadily; and they did not have long to wait ere a warrior, naked but for a sampot, stepped into view, and in his arms was the runaway apsaras whom they sought. Elated, Vama leaped from his place of concealment, calling to his men to follow him.
At sight of them King turned to escape, but he knew that he could make no speed while burdened with the girl. She, however, had seen the soldiers and slipped quickly from his arms. “We are lost!” she cried.
“Run!” cried King as he snatched a handful of arrows from his quiver and fitted one to his bow. “Stand back!” he cried to the warriors. But they only moved steadily forward. His bow-string twanged, and one of Lodivarman’s brass-bound warriors sank to earth, an arrow through his throat. The others hesitated. They did not dare to cast their spears or loose their bolts for fear of injuring the girl.
Slowly King, with Fou-tan behind him, backed away into the jungle from which he had appeared. At the last instant he sped another arrow, which rattled harmlessly from the cuirass of Vama. Then, knowing that he could not fire upon them from the foliage, the soldiers rushed forward, while King continued to fall back slowly with Fou-tan, another arrow fitted to his bow.
Kau and Tchek had made a great circle in their hunting. With their arrows they had brought down three monkeys, and now they were returning to camp. They had almost arrived when they heard voices and the twang of a bow-string, and then they saw, directly ahead of them, a man and a girl crashing through the foliage of the jungle toward them. Instantly, by her dishevelled costume, they recognised the apsaras and guessed from the attitude of the two that they were backing away from Vama and his fellows.
Kau was a powerful, a courageous, and a resourceful man. Instantly he grasped the situation and instantly he acted. Leaping forward, he threw both his sinewy arms around Gordon King, pinning the other’s arms to his body; while Tchek, following the example of his companion, seized Fou-tan. Almost immediately Vama and the others were upon the scene. An instant later Gordon King was disarmed, and his wrists were bound behind him; then the soldiers of Lodivarman dragged the captives back to their camping place.
Vama was tremendously elated. Now he would not have to make up any lies to appease the wrath of his king but could return to Lodidhapura in triumph, bearing not only the apsaras for whom he had been dispatched, but another prisoner as well.
King thought that they might make quick work of him in revenge for the soldier he had killed, but they did not appear to hold that against him at all. They questioned him at some length while they cooked their supper of monkey meat over a number of tiny fires; but as what he told them of another country far beyond their jungle was quite beyond their grasp, they naturally believed that he lied and insisted that he came from Pnom Dhek and that he was a runaway slave.
They were all quite content with the happy outcome of their assignment; and so, looking forward to their return to Lodidhapura on the morrow, they were inclined to be generous in their treatment of their prisoners, giving them meat to eat and water to drink. Their attitude toward Fou-tan was one of respectful awe. They knew that she was destined to become one of the King’s favourites, and it might prove ill for them, indeed, should they offer her any hurt or affront. Since their treatment of Gordon King, however, was not dictated by any such consideration, it was fortunate, indeed, for him that they were in a good humour.
Regardless, however, of the respectful attention shown her, Fou-tan was immersed in melancholy. A few moments before, she had foreseen escape and counted return to her native city almost an accomplished fact; now, once again, she was in the clutches of the soldiers of Lodivarman, while simultaneously she had brought disaster and, doubtless, death to the man who had befriended her.
“Oh, Gordon King,” she said, “my heart is unstrung; my soul is filled with terror and consumed by horror, for not only must I return to the hideous fate from which I had escaped, but you must go to Lodidhapura to slavery or to death.”
“We are not in Lodidhapura yet,” whispered King. “Perhaps we shall escape.”
The girl shook her head. “There is no hope,” she said. “I shall go to the arms of Lodivarman, and you—”
“And I?” he asked.
“Slaves fight with other slaves and with wild beasts for the entertainment of Lodivarman and his court,” she replied.
“We must escape then,” said King. “Perhaps we shall die in the attempt, but in any event death awaits me and worse than death awaits you.”
“What you command I shall do, Gordon King,” replied Fou-tan.
But it did not appear that there was to be much opportunity for escape that night. After King had eaten they bound his wrists behind his back again and also bound his ankles together securely, while two warriors remained constantly with the girl; the others, their simple meal completed, stripped the armour and weapons from their fallen comrade and laid him upon a thick bed of dry wood that they had gathered. Upon him, then, they piled a great quantity of limbs and branches, of twigs and dry grasses; and when night fell they lighted their weird funeral pyre, which was to answer its other dual purpose as a beast fire to protect them from the prowling carnivores. To King it was a gruesome sight, but neither Fou-tan nor the other Khmers seemed to be affected by it. The men gathered much wood and placed it near at hand that the fire might be kept burning during the night.
The flames leaped high, lighting the boles of the trees about them and the foliage arching above. The shadows rose and fell and twisted and writhed. Beyond the limits of the firelight was utter darkness, silence, mystery. King felt himself in an inverted cauldron of flame in which a human body was being consumed.
The warriors lay about, laughing and talking. Their reminiscences were brutal and cruel. Their jokes and stories were broad and obscene. But there was an undercurrent of rough kindness and loyalty to one another that they appeared to be endeavouring to conceal as though they were ashamed of such soft emotion. They were soldiers. Transplanted to the camps of modern Europe, given a modern uniform and a modern language, their campfire conversation would have been the same. Soldiers do not change. One played upon a little musical instrument that resembled a Jew’s harp. Two were gambling with what appeared to be very similar to modern dice, and all that they said was so interlarded with strange and terrible oaths that the American could scarcely follow the thread of their thought. Soldiers do not change.
Vama came presently and squatted down near King and Fou-tan. “Do all the men in this far country of which you tell me go naked?” he demanded.
“No,” replied the American. “When I had become lost in the jungle I was stricken with fever, and while I was sick the monkeys came and stole my clothing and my weapons.”
“You live alone in the jungle?” asked Vama.
King thought quickly; he thought of Che and Kangrey and their fear of the soldiers in brass. “Yes,” he said.
“Are you not afraid of My Lord the Tiger?” inquired Vama.
“I am watchful and I avoid him,” replied the American.
“You do well to do so,” said Vama, “for even with spear and arrows no lone man is a match for the great beast.”
“But Gordon King is,” said Fou-tan proudly.
Vama smiled. “The apsaras has been in the jungle but a night and a day,” he reminded her. “How can she know so much about this man unless, as I suspect, he is, indeed, from Pnom Dhek?”
“He is not from Pnom Dhek,” retorted Fou-tan. “And I know that he is a match for My Lord the Tiger because this day I saw him slay the beast with a single spear-cast.”
Vama looked questioningly at King.
“It was only a matter of good fortune,” said King.
“But you did it nevertheless,” insisted Fou-tan.
“You killed a tiger with a single cast of your spear?” demanded Vama.
“As the beast charged him,” said Fou-tan.
“That is, indeed, a marvellous feat,” said Vama, with a soldier’s ungrudging admiration for the bravery or prowess of another. “Lodivarman shall hear of this. A hunter of such spirit shall not go unrecognised in Lodidhapura. I can also bear witness that you are no mean bowman,” added Vama, nodding toward the blazing funeral pyre. Then he arose and walked to the spot where King’s weapons had been deposited. Picking up the spear he examined it closely. “By Siva!” he ejaculated. “The blood is scarcely dry upon it. Such a cast! You drove it a full two feet into the carcass of My Lord the Tiger.”
“Straight through the heart,” said Fou-tan.
The other soldiers had been listening to the conversation. It was noticeable immediately that their attitude toward King changed instantly, and thereafter they treated him with friendliness tinged by respect. However, they did not abate their watchfulness over him, but rather were increasingly careful to see that he was given no opportunity to escape, nor to have his hands free for any length of time.
Early the next morning, after a meagre breakfast, Vama set out with his detachment and his prisoners in the direction of Lodidhapura, leaving the funeral fire still blazing as it eagerly licked at a new supply of fuel.
The route they selected to Lodidhapura passed by chance, close to the spot where King had slain the tiger; and here, in the partially devoured carcass of the great beast, the soldiers of Lodivarman found concrete substantiation of Fou-tan’s story.