These creatures were sometimes of great length, seating as high as ten or twelve Morgors on their backs. There were other beasts of burden on the avenue. They were of strange, unearthly forms; but I shall not bore you by describing them here.
Above this traffic moved small fliers in both directions. Thus the avenue accommodated a multitude of people, strange, dour people who seldom spoke and, as far as I had seen, never laughed. They might have, as indeed they looked, risen from sad graves to rattle their bones in mock life in a cemetery city of the dead.
U Dan and I walked in the gutter, a guard on the sidewalk close beside each of us. We were not good enough to walk where the Morgors walked! Haglion led us to a large plaza surrounded by buildings of considerable size but of no beauty. A few of them boasted towers—some squat, some tall, all ugly. They looked as though they had been built to endure throughout the ages.
We were conducted to one of these buildings, before the entrance to which a single sentry stood. Haglion spoke to him, and he summoned an officer from the interior of the building, after which we all entered. Our names and a description of each of us were entered in a large book. Haglion was given a receipt for us, after which he and our original escort left.
Our new custodian issued instructions to several warriors who were in the room, and they hustled U Dan and me down a spiral stairway to a dim basement, where we were thrown into a gloomy cell. Our escort locked the door on us and departed.
chapter IV
…AND THE SAVATORS
ALTHOUGH I HAD often wondered about Jupiter, I had never hoped nor cared to visit it because of the inhospitable conditions which earthly scientists assure us pertain to this great planet. However, here I was, and conditions were not at all as the scientists had described. Unquestionably, the mass of Jupiter is far greater than that of Earth or Mars, yet I felt the gravitational pull far less than I had upon Earth. It was even less than that which I had experienced upon Mars. This was due, I realized, to the rapid revolution of the planet upon its axis. Centrifugal force, tending to throw me off into space, more than outweighed the increased force of gravitation. I had never before felt so light upon my feet. I was intrigued by contemplation of the height and distances to which I might jump.
The cell in which I found myself, while large, precluded any experiments along that line. It was a large room of hard, brown lava rock. A few white lights set in recesses in the ceiling gave meager illumination. From the center of one wall a little stream of water tinkled into a small cavity in the floor, the overflow being carried off by a gutter through a small hole in the end wall of the cell. There were some grass mats on the floor. These constituted the sole furnishings of the bleak prison.
“The Morgors are thoughtful hosts,” I remarked to U Dan. “They furnish water for drinking and bathing. They have installed sewage facilities. They have given us whereon to lie or sit. Our cell is lighted. It is strong. We are secure against the attacks of our enemies. However, as far as the Morgors are concerned, I—”
“S-s-sh!” cautioned U Dan. “We are not alone.” He nodded toward the far end of the cell. I looked, and for the first time perceived what appeared to be the figure of a man stretched upon a mat.
Simultaneously, it arose and came toward us. It was, indeed a man. “You need have no fear of me,” he said. “Say what you please of the Morgors. You could not possibly conceive any terms of opprobrium in which to describe them more virulent than those which I have long used and considered inadequate.”
Except that the man’s skin was a light blue, I could not see that he differed materially in physical appearance from U Dan and myself. His body, which was almost naked, was quite hairless except for a heavy growth on his head and for eyebrows and eyelashes. He spoke the same language as the Morgors. U Dan and I had been conversing in the universal language of Barsoom. I was surprised that the man had been able to understand us. U Dan and I were both silent for a moment.
“Perhaps,” suggested our cell mate, “you do not understand the language of Eurobus—eh?”
“We do,” I said, “but we were surprised that you understood our language.”
The fellow laughed. “I did not,” he said. “You mentioned the Morgors, so I knew that you were speaking of them; and then, when your companion discovered me, he warned you to silence; so I guessed that you were saying something uncomplimentary about our captors. Tell me—who are you? You are no Morgors, nor do you look like us Savators.”
“We are from Barsoom,” I said.
“The Morgors call it Garobus,” explained U Dan.
I have heard of it,” said the Savator. “It is a world that lies far above the clouds. The Morgors are going to invade it. I suppose they have captured you either to obtain information from you or to hold you as hostages.”
“For both purposes, I imagine,” said U Dan. “Why are you imprisoned?”
“I accidentally bumped into a Morgor who was crossing an avenue at an intersection. He struck me and I knocked him down. For that, I shall be destroyed at the graduation exercises of the next class.”
“What do you mean by that?” I asked.
“The education of the Morgor youth consists almost wholly of subjects and exercises connected with the art of war. Because it is spectacular, because it arouses the blood lust of the participants and the spectators, personal combat winds up the exercises upon graduation day. Those of the graduating class who survive are inducted into the warrior caste—the highest caste among the Morgors. Art, literature, and science, except as they may pertain to war, are held in contempt by the Morgors. They have been kept alive upon Eurobus only through the efforts of us Savators; but, unfortunately, to the neglect of offensive military preparation and training. Being a peace loving people, we armed only for defense.” He smiled ruefully and shrugged. “But wars are not won by defensive methods.”
“Tell us more about the graduating exercises,” said U Dan. “The idea is intriguing. With whom does the graduating class contend?”
“With criminals and slaves,” replied the Savator. “Mostly men of my race,” he added; “although sometimes there are Morgor criminals of the worst types sentenced to die thus. It is supposed to be the most shameful death that a Morgor can die—fighting shoulder to shoulder with members of a lower order against their own kind.”
“Members of a lower order!” I exclaimed. “Do the Morgors consider you that?”
“Just a step above the dumb beasts, but accountable for our acts because we are supposed to be able to differentiate between right and wrong—wrong being any word or act or facial expression adversely critical of anything Morgorian or that can be twisted into a subversive act or gesture.”
“And suppose you survive the graduating contest,” I asked. “Are you then set at liberty?”
“In theory, yes,” he replied; “but in practice, never.”
“You mean they fail to honor terms of their own making?” demanded U Dan.
The Savator laughed. “They are entirely without honor,” he said, “yet I do not know that they would not liberate one who survived the combat; because, insofar as I know, no one ever has. You see, the members of the class outnumber their antagonists two to one.”
This statement gave me a still lower estimate of the character of the Morgors than I had already inferred from my own observation of them. It is not unusual that a warlike people excel in chivalry and a sense of honor; but where all other characteristics are made subservient to brutality, finer humanistic instincts atrophy and disappear.
We sat in silence for some time. It was broken by the Savator. “I do not know your names,” he said. “Mine is Zan Dar.”
As I told him ours, a detail of Morgor warriors came to our cell and ordered U Dan and me to accompany them. “Good-by!” said Zan Dar. “We probably shall never meet again.”
“Shut up, thing!” admonished one of the warriors.
Zan Dar winked at me and laughed. The Morgor was furious. “Silence, creature!” he gro
wled. I thought for a moment that he was going to fall upon Zan Dar with his sword, but he who was in charge of the detail ordered him out of the cell. The incident was but another proof of the egomaniac arrogance of the Morgors. However, it helped to crystallize within me an admiration and liking for the Savator that had been growing since first he spoke to us.
U Dan and I were led across the plaza to a very large building the entrance to which was heavily guarded. The hideous, grinning, skull-like heads of the warriors and their skeletal limbs and bodies, together with the dark and cavernous entrance to the building suggested a grisly fantasia of hell’s entrance guarded by the rotting dead. It was not a pleasant thought.
We were held here for quite some time, during which some of the warriors discussed us as one might discuss a couple of stray alley cats. “They are like the Savators and yet unlike them,” said one.
“They are quite as hideous,” said another.
“One of them is much darker than the other.”
Now, for the first time, I was struck by the color of these Morgors. Instead of being ivory color, they were a pink or rosy shade. I looked at U Dan. He was a very dark red. A glance at my arms and hands showed that they, too, were dark red; but not as dark a red as U Dan. At first I was puzzled; then I realized that the reflection of the red glare of the volcanoes from the inner surface of the cloud envelope turned our reddish skins a darker red and made the yellow, parchment-like skins of the Morgors appear pink. As I looked around, I realized that this same reddish hue appeared upon everything within sight. It reminded me of a verse in the popular song I heard some time ago on one of my visits to Earth. It went, I think: “I am looking at the world through rose colored glasses, and everything is rosy now.” Well, everything wasn’t rosy with me, no matter how rosy this world looked.
Presently an officer came to the entrance and ordered our escort to bring us in. The interior of the building was as unlovely as its exterior. Although this was, as I later learned, the principal palace of the Morgor ruler, there was absolutely no sign of ornamentation. No art relieved the austerity of gloomy, lava-brown corridors and bare, rectangular chambers. No hangings softened the sharp edges of openings; no rugs hid even a part of the bare, brown floors. The pictureless walls frowned down upon us. I have seldom been in a more depressing environment. Even the pits beneath the deserted cities of Barsoom often had interesting vaulted ceilings, arched doorways, elaborate old iron grill work, attesting the artistic temperaments of their designers. The Morgors, like death, were without art.
We were led to a large, bare chamber in which a number of Morgors were clustered about a desk at which another of the creatures was seated. All Morgors look very much alike to me, yet they do have individual facial and physical characteristics; so I was able to recognize Haglion among those standing about the desk. It was Haglion who had commanded the ship that had brought me from Mars.
U Dan and I were halted at some distance from the group, and as we stood there two other red Martians were brought into the room—a man and a girl. The girl was very beautiful.
“Vaja!” exclaimed U Dan, but I did not need this evidence to know who she was. I was equally certain that the man was Multis Par, Prince of Zor. He appeared nervous and downcast, but even so the natural arrogance of the man was indelibly stamped upon his features.
At U Dan’s exclamation, one of those guarding us whispered, “Silence, thing!” Vaja’s eyes went wide in incredulity as she recognized my companion; and she took an impulsive step toward him, but a warrior seized her arm and restrained her. The faint shadow of a malicious smile touched the thin lips of Multis Par.
The man seated at the desk issued an order, and all four of us were brought forward and lined up in front of him. The fellow differed in appearance not at all from other Morgors. He wore no ornaments. His harness and weapons were quite plain but evidently serviceable. They were marked with a hieroglyph that differed from similar markings on the harness and weapons of the other Morgors, as those of each of the others differed from all the rest. I did not know then what they signified; but later learned that each hieroglyph indicated the name, rank, and title of him who wore it. The hieroglyph of the man at the desk was that of Bandolian, Emperor of the Morgors.
Spread upon the desk before Bandolian was a large map, which I instantly recognized as that of Barsoom. The man and his staff had evidently been studying it. As U Dan and I were halted before his desk with Vaja and Multis Par, Bandolian looked up at the Prince of Zor.
“Which is he,” he asked, “who is called Warlord of Barsoom?” Multis Par indicated me, and Bandolian turned his hollow eyes upon me. It was as though Death had looked upon me and singled me out as his own. “I understand that your name is John Carter,” he said. I nodded in affirmation. “While you are of a lower order,” he continued, “yet it must be that you are endowed with intelligence of a sort. It is to this intelligence that I address my commands. I intend to invade and conquer Barsoom (he called it Garobus), and I command you to give me all the assistance in your power by acquainting me and my staff with such military information as you may possess relative to the principal powers of Garobus, especially that one known as the Empire of Helium. In return for this your life will be spared.”
I looked at him for a moment, and then I laughed in his face. The faintest suggestion of a flush overspread the pallor of his face. “You dare laugh at me, thing!” he growled.
“It is my answer to your proposition,” I said.
Bandolian was furious. “Take it away and destroy it!” he ordered.
“Wait, Great Bandolian!” urged Multis Par. “His knowledge is almost indispensable to you, and I have a plan whereby you may make use of it.”
“What is it?” demanded Bandolian.
“He has a mate whom he worships. Seize her and he will pay any price to protect her from harm.”
“Not the price the Morgor has asked,” I said to Multis Par, “and if she is brought here it will be the seal upon your death warrant.”
“Enough of this,” snapped Bandolian. “Take them all away.”
“Shall I destroy the one called John Carter?” asked the officer who commanded the detail that had brought us to the audience-chamber.
“Not immediately,” replied Bandolian.
“He struck a Morgor,” said Haglion; “one of my officers.”
“He shall die for that, too,” said Bandolian.
“That will be twice,” I said.
“Take it away!” snapped Bandolian.
As we were led away, Vaja and U Dan gazed longingly at one another.
chapter V
I WOULD BE A TRAITOR
ZAN DAR, THE SAVATOR, was surprised to see us returned to the cell in so short a time. “In fact,” he said, “I did not expect ever to see you again. How did it happen?”
I explained briefly what had occurred in the audience-chamber, adding, “I have been returned to the cell to await death.”
“And you, U Dan?” he asked.
“I don’t know why they bothered to take me up there,” replied U Dan. “Bandolian paid no attention to me whatever.”
“He had a reason, you may rest assured. He is probably trying to break down your morale by letting you see the girl you love, in the belief that you will influence John Carter to accede to his demands. John Carter lives only because Bandolian hopes to eventually break down his resistance.”
Time dragged heavily in that cell beneath the Morgor city. For that matter, there would have been none had we been above ground, for there are no nights upon Jupiter. It is always day. The sun, four hundred eighty-three million miles away, would shed but little light upon the planet even were it exposed to the full light of the star that is the center of our solar system; but that little light is obscured by the dense cloud envelope which surrounds this distant world. What little filters through is negated by the gigantic volcanic torches which bathe the entire planet in perpetual daylight. Although Jupiter rotates upon its axis in le
ss than ten hours, its day is for eternity.
U Dan and I learned much concerning conditions on the planet from Zan Dar. He told us of the vast warm seas which seethed in constant tidal agitation resulting from the constantly changing positions of the four larger moons which revolve about Jupiter in forty-two hours, eighty-five hours, one hundred seventy-two hours, and four hundred hours respectively while the planet spins upon its axis, making a complete revolution in nine hours and fifty-five minutes. He told us of vast continents and enormous islands; and I could well imagine that such existed, as a rough estimate indicated that the area of the planet exceeded twenty-three billion square miles.
As the axis of Jupiter is nearly perpendicular to the plane of its motion, having an inclination of only about 3°, there could be no great variety of seasons; so over this enormous area there existed an equable climate, warm and humid, perpetually lighted and heated by the innumerable volcanoes which pit the surface of the planet. And here was I, an adventurer who had explored two worlds, cooped up in a subterranean cell upon the most amazing and wonderful planet of our entire solar system. It was maddening.
Zan Dar told us that the continent upon which we were was the largest. It was the ancestral home of the Morgors, from which they had, over a great period of time, sallied forth to conquer the remainder of the world. The conquered countries, each of which was ruled by what might be called a Morgor Governor-General, paid tribute to the Morgors in manufactured goods, foodstuffs, and slaves. There were still a few areas, small and considered of little value by the Morgors, which retained their liberty and their own governments. From such an area came Zan Dar—a remote island called Zanor.
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