shook his head.
“I have these,” he waved a hand toward Ruth and her brother. “Me you may slay — and mayhap many of mine. But before you can move my archers will feather their hearts.”
She considered him, no longer mocking.
“Two of mine you slew long since, Cherkis,” she said, slowly. “Therefore it is I am here.”
“I know,” he nodded heavily. “Yet now that is neither here nor there, Norhala. It was long since, and I have learned much during the years. I would have killed you too, Norhala, could I have found you. But now I would not do as then — quite differently would I do, Norhala; for I have learned much. I am sorry that those that you loved died as they did. I am in truth sorry!”
There was a curious lurking sardonicism in the words, an undertone of mockery. Was what he really meant that in those years he had learned to inflict greater agonies, more exquisite tortures? If so, Norhala apparently did not sense that interpretation. Indeed, she seemed to be interested, her wrath abating.
“No,” the hoarse voice rumbled dispassionately. “None of that is important — now. YOU would have this man and girl. I hold them. They die if you stir a hand’s breadth toward me. If they die, I prevail against you — for I have cheated you of what you desire. I win, Norhala, even though you slay me. That is all that is now important.”
There was doubt upon Norhala’s face and I caught a quick gleam of contemptuous triumph glint through the depths of the evil eyes.
“Empty will be your victory over me, Norhala,” he said; then waited.
“What is your bargain?” she spoke hesitatingly; with a sinking of my heart I heard the doubt tremble in her throat.
“If you will go without further knocking upon my gates”— there was a satiric grimness in the phrase —“go when you have been given them, and pledge yourself never to return — you shall have them. If you will not, then they die.”
“But what security, what hostages, do you ask?” Her eyes were troubled. “I cannot swear by your gods, Cherkis, for they are not my gods — in truth I, Norhala, have no gods. Why should I not say yes and take the two, then fall upon you and destroy — as you would do in my place, old wolf?”
“Norhala,” he answered, “I ask nothing but your word. Do I not know those who bore you and the line from which they sprung? Was not always the word they gave kept till death — unbroken, inviolable? No need for vows to gods between you and me. Your word is holier than they — O glorious daughter of kings, princess royal!”
The great voice was harshly caressing; not obsequious, but as though he gave her as an equal her rightful honor. Her face softened; she considered him from eyes far less hostile.
A wholesome respect for this gross tyrant’s mentality came to me; it did not temper, it heightened, the hatred I felt for him. But now I recognized the subtlety of his attack; realized that unerringly he had taken the only means by which he could have gained a hearing; have temporized. Could he win her with his guile?
“Is it not true?” There was a leonine purring in the question.
“It IS true!” she answered proudly. “Though why YOU should dwell upon this, Cherkis, whose word is steadfast as the running stream and whose promises are as lasting as its bubbles — why YOU should dwell on this I do not know.”
“I have changed greatly, Princess, in the years since my great wickedness; I have learned much. He who speaks to you now is not he you were taught — and taught justly then — to hate.”
“You may speak truth! Certainly you are not as I have pictured you.” It was as though she were more than half convinced. “In this at least you do speak truth — that IF I promise I will go and molest you no more.”
“Why go at all, Princess?” Quietly he asked the amazing question — then drew himself to his full height, threw wide his arms.
“Princess?” the great voice rumbled forth. “Nay — Queen! Why leave us again — Norhala the Queen? Are we not of your people? Am I not of your kin? Join your power with ours. What that war engine you ride may be, how built, I know not. But this I do know — that with our strengths joined we two can go forth from where I have dwelt so long, go forth into the forgotten world, eat its cities and rule.
“You shall teach our people to make these engines, Norhala, and we will make many of them. Queen Norhala — you shall wed my son Kulun, he who stands beside me. And while I live you shall rule with me, rule equally. And when I die you and Kulun shall rule.
“Thus shall our two royal lines be made one, the old feud wiped out, the long score be settled. Queen — wherever it is you dwell it comes to me that you have few men. Queen — you need men, many men and strong to follow you, men to gather the harvests of your power, men to bring to you the fruit of your smallest wish — young men and vigorous to amuse you.
“Let the past be forgotten — I too have wrongs to forget, O Queen. Come to us, Great One, with your power and your beauty. Teach us. Lead us. Return, and throned above your people rule the world!”
He ceased. Over the battlements, over the city, dropped a vast expectant silence — as though the city knew its fate was hanging upon the balance.
“No! No!” It was Ruth crying. “Do not trust him, Norhala! It’s a trap! He shamed me — he tortured —”
Cherkis half turned; before he swung about I saw a hell shadow darken his face. Ventnor’s hand thrust out, covered Ruth’s mouth, choking her crying.
“Your son”— Norhala spoke swiftly; and back flashed the cruel face of Cherkis, devouring her with his eyes. “Your son — and Queenship here — and Empire of the World.” Her voice was rapt, thrilled. “All this you offer? Me — Norhala?”
“This and more!” The huge bulk of his body quivered with eagerness. “If it be your wish, O Queen, I, Cherkis, will step down from the throne for you and sit beneath your right hand, eager to do your bidding.”
A moment she studied him.
“Norhala,” I whispered, “do not do this thing. He thinks to gain your secrets.”
“Let my bridegroom stand forth that I may look upon him,” called Norhala.
Visibly Cherkis relaxed, as though a strain had been withdrawn. Between him and his crimson-clad son flashed a glance; it was as though a triumphant devil sped from them into each other’s eyes.
I saw Ruth shrink into Ventnor’s arms. Up from the wall rose a jubilant shouting, was caught by the inner battlements, passed on to the crowded terraces.
“Take Kulun,” it was Drake, pistol drawn and whispering across to me. “I’ll handle Cherkis. And shoot straight.”
Chapter XXVI.
The Vengeance of Norhala
Norhala’s hand that had gone from my wrist
