“It is his right,” echoed the voices of a score of warriors in various parts of the chamber.
“That O-Tar is a coward and a liar I can prove,” continued I-Gos. “He said that he faced bravely the horrors of the chamber of O-Mai and saw nothing of the slave Turan. I was there, hiding behind the hangings, and I saw all that transpired. Turan had been hiding in the chamber and was even then lying upon the couch of O-Mai when O-Tar, trembling with fear, entered the room. Turan, disturbed, arose to a sitting position at the same time voicing a piercing shriek. O-Tar screamed and swooned.”
“It is a lie!” cried O-Tar.
“It is not a lie and I can prove it,” retorted I-Gos. “Didst notice the night that he returned from the chambers of O-Mai and was boasting of his exploit, that when he would summon slaves to bring wine he reached for his dagger to strike the gong with its pommel as is always his custom? Didst note that, any of you? And that he had no dagger? O-Tar, where is the dagger that you carried into the chamber of O-Mai? You do not know; but I know. While you lay in the swoon of terror I took it from your harness and hid it among the sleeping silks upon the couch of O-Mai. There it is even now, and if any doubt it let them go thither and there they will find it and know the cowardice of their jeddak.”
“But what of this impostor?” demanded one. “Shall he stand with impunity upon the throne of Manator whilst we squabble about our ruler?”
“It is through his bravery that you have learned the cowardice of O-Tar,” replied I-Gos, “and through him you will be given a greater jeddak.”
“We will choose our own jeddak. Seize and slay the slave!” There were cries of approval from all parts of the room. Gahan was listening intently, as though for some hoped-for sound. He saw the warriors approaching the dais, where he now stood with drawn sword and with one arm about Tara of Helium. He wondered if his plans had miscarried after all. If they had it would mean death for him, and he knew that Tara would take her life if he fell. Had he, then, served her so futilely after all his efforts?
Several warriors were urging the necessity for sending at once to the chamber of O-Mai to search for the dagger that would prove, if found, the cowardice of O-Tar. At last three consented to go. “You need not fear,” I-Gos assured them. “There is naught there to harm you. I have been there often of late and Turan the slave has slept there for these many nights. The screams and moans that frightened you and O-Tar were voiced by Turan to drive you away from his hiding place.” Shamefacedly the three left the apartment to search for O-Tar’s dagger.
And now the others turned their attention once more to Gahan. They approached the throne with bared swords, but they came slowly for they had seen this slave upon The Fields of Jetan and they knew the prowess of his arm. They had reached the foot of the steps when from far above there sounded a deep boom, and another, and another, and Turan smiled and breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps, after all, it had not come too late. The warriors stopped and listened as did the others in the chamber. Now there broke upon their ears a loud rattle of musketry and it all came from above as though men were fighting upon the roofs of the palace.
“What is it?” they demanded, one of the other.
“A great storm has broken over Manator,” said one.
“Mind not the storm until you have slain the creature who dares stand upon the throne of your jeddak,” demanded O-Tar. “Seize him!”
Even as he ceased speaking the arras behind the throne parted and a warrior stepped forth upon the dais. An exclamation of surprise and dismay broke from the lips of the warriors of O-Tar. “U-Thor!” they cried. “What treason is this?”
“It is no treason,” said U-Thor in his deep voice. “I bring you a new jeddak for all of Manator. No lying poltroon, but a courageous man whom you all love.”
He stepped aside then and another emerged from the corridor hidden by the arras. It was A-Kor, and at sight of him there rose exclamations of surprise, of pleasure, and of anger, as the various factions recognized the coup d’état that had been arranged so cunningly. Behind A-Kor came other warriors until the dais was crowded with them—all men of Manator from the city of Manatos.
O-Tar was exhorting his warriors to attack, when a bloody and disheveled padwar burst into the chamber through a side entrance. “The city has fallen!” he cried aloud. “The hordes of Manatos pour through The Gate of Enemies. The slaves from Gathol have arisen and destroyed the palace guards. Great ships are landing warriors upon the palace roof and in The Fields of Jetan. The men of Helium and Gathol are marching through Manator. They cry aloud for the Princess of Helium and swear to leave Manator a blazing funeral pyre consuming the bodies of all our people. The skies are black with ships.
They come in great processions from the east and from the south.”
And then once more the doors from The Hall of Chiefs swung wide and the men of Manator turned to see another figure standing upon the threshold—a mighty figure of a man with white skin, and black hair, and gray eyes that glittered now like points of steel and behind him The Hall of Chiefs was filled with fighting men wearing the harness of far countries. Tara of Helium saw him and her heart leaped in exultation, for it was John Carter, Warlord of Barsoom, come at the head of a victorious host to the rescue of his daughter, and at his side was Djor Kantos to whom she had been betrothed.
The Warlord eyed the assemblage for a moment before he spoke. “Lay down your arms, men of Manator,” he said. “I see my daughter and that she lives, and if no harm has befallen her no blood need be shed. Your city is filled with the fighting men of U-Thor, and those from Gathol and from Helium. The palace is in the hands of the slaves from Gathol, beside a thousand of my own warriors who fill the halls and chambers surrounding this room. The fate of your jeddak lies in your own hands. I have no wish to interfere. I come only for my daughter and to free the slaves from Gathol. I have spoken!” and without waiting for a reply and as though the room had been filled with his own people rather than a hostile band he strode up the broad main aisle toward Tara of Helium.
The chiefs of Manator were stunned. They looked to O-Tar; but he could only gaze helplessly about him as the enemy entered from The Hall of Chiefs and circled the throne room until they had surrounded the entire company. And then a dwar of the army of Helium entered.
“We have captured three chiefs,” he reported to The Warlord, “who beg that they be permitted to enter the throne room and report to their fellows some matter which they say will decide the fate of Manator.”
“Fetch them,” ordered The Warlord.
They came, heavily guarded, to the foot of the steps leading to the throne and there they stopped and the leader turned toward the others of Manator and raising high his right hand displayed a jeweled dagger. “We found it,” he said, “even where I-Gos said that we would find it,” and he looked menacingly upon O-Tar.
“A-Kor, Jeddak of Manator!” cried a voice, and the cry was taken up by a hundred hoarse-throated warriors.
“There can be but one jeddak in Manator,” said the chief who held the dagger; his eyes still fixed upon the hapless O-Tar he crossed to where the latter stood and holding the dagger upon an outstretched palm proffered it to the discredited ruler. “There can be but one jeddak in Manator,” he repeated meaningly.
O-Tar took the proffered blade and drawing himself to his full height plunged it to the guard into his breast, in that single act redeeming himself in the esteem of his people and winning an eternal place in The Hall of Chiefs.
As he fell all was silence in the great room, to be broken presently by the voice of U-Thor. “O-Tar is dead!” he cried. “Let A-Kor rule until the chiefs of all Manator may be summoned to choose a new jeddak. What is your answer?”
“Let A-Kor rule! A-Kor, Jeddak of Manator!” The cries filled the room and there was no dissenting voice.
A-Kor raised his sword for silence. “It is the will of A-Kor,” he said, “and that of the Great Jed of Manatos, and the commander of the fleet from Gathol, a
nd of the illustrious John Carter, Warlord of Barsoom, that peace lie upon the city of Manator and so I decree that the men of Manator go forth and welcome the fighting men of these our allies as guests and friends and show them the wonders of our ancient city and the hospitality of Manator. I have spoken.” And U-Thor and John Carter dismissed their warriors and bade them accept the hospitality of Manator. As the room emptied Djor Kantos reached the side of Tara of Helium. The girl’s happiness at rescue had been blighted by sight of this man whom her virtuous heart told her she had wronged. She dreaded the ordeal that lay before her and the dishonor that she must admit before she could hope to be freed from the understanding that had for long existed between them. And now Djor Kantos approached and kneeling raised her fingers to his lips.
“Beautiful daughter of Helium,” he said, “how may I tell you the thing that I must tell you—of the dishonor that I have all unwittingly done you? I can but throw myself upon your generosity for forgiveness; but if you demand it I can receive the dagger as honorably as did O-Tar.”
“What do you mean?” asked Tara of Helium. “What are you talking about—why speak thus in riddles to one whose heart is already breaking?”
Her heart already breaking! The outlook was anything but promising, and the young padwar wished that he had died before ever he had had to speak the words he now must speak.
“Tara of Helium,” he continued, “we all thought you dead. For a long year have you been gone from Helium. I mourned you truly and then, less than a moon since, I wed with Olvia Marthis.” He stopped and looked at her with eyes that might have said: “Now, strike me dead!”
“Oh, foolish man!” cried Tara. “Nothing you could have done could have pleased me more. Djor Kantos, I could kiss you!”
“I do not think that Olvia Marthis would mind,” he said, his face now wreathed with smiles. As they spoke a body of men had entered the throne room and approached the dais. They were tall men trapped in plain harness, absolutely without ornamentation. Just as their leader reached the dais Tara had turned to Gahan, motioning him to join them.
“Djor Kantos,” she said, “I bring you Turan the panthan, whose loyalty and bravery have won my love.”
John Carter and the leader of the new come warriors, who were standing near, looked quickly at the little group. The former smiled an inscrutable smile, the latter addressed the Princess of Helium. “‘Turan the panthan!’” he cried. “Know you not, fair daughter of Helium, that this man you call panthan is Gahan, Jed of Gathol?”
For just a moment Tara of Helium looked her surprise; and then she shrugged her beautiful shoulders as she turned her head to cast her eyes over one of them at Gahan of Gathol.
“Jed or panthan,” she said; “what difference does it make what one’s slave has been?” and she laughed roguishly into the smiling face of her lover.
His story finished, John Carter rose from the chair opposite me, stretching his giant frame like some great forest-bred lion.
“You must go?” I cried, for I hated to see him leave and it seemed that he had been with me but a moment.
“The sky is already red beyond those beautiful hills of yours,” he replied, “and it will soon be day.”
“Just one question before you go,” I begged.
“Well?” he assented, good-naturedly.
“How was Gahan able to enter the throne room garbed in O-Tar’s trappings?” I asked.
“It was simple—for Gahan of Gathol,” replied The Warlord.
“With the assistance of I-Gos he crept into The Hall of Chiefs before the ceremony, while the throne room and Hall of Chiefs were vacated to receive the bride. He came from the pits through the corridor that opened behind the arras at the rear of the throne, and passing into The Hall of Chiefs took his place upon the back of a riderless thoat, whose warrior was in I-Gos’ repair room. When O-Tar entered and came near him Gahan fell upon him and struck him with the butt of a heavy spear. He thought that he had killed him and was surprised when O-Tar appeared to denounce him.”
“And Ghek? What became of Ghek?” I insisted.
“After leading Val Dor and Floran to Tara’s disabled flier which they repaired, he accompanied them to Gathol from where a message was sent to me in Helium. He then led a large party including A-Kor and U-Thor from the roof, where our ships landed them, down a spiral runway into the palace and guided them to the throne room. We took him back to Helium with us, where he still lives, with his single rykor which we found all but starved to death in the pits of Manator. But come! No more questions now.”
I accompanied him to the east arcade where the red dawn was glowing beyond the arches.
“Good-bye!” he said.
“I can scarce believe that it is really you,” I exclaimed. “Tomorrow I will be sure that I have dreamed all this.”
He laughed and drawing his sword scratched a rude cross upon the concrete of one of the arches.
“If you are in doubt tomorrow,” he said, “come and see if you dreamed this.”
A moment later he was gone.
JETAN, OR MARTIAN CHESS
FOR THOSE who care for such things, and would like to try the game, I give the rules of jetan as they were given me by John Carter. By writing the names and moves of the various pieces on bits of paper and pasting them on ordinary checkermen the game may be played quite as well as with the ornate pieces used upon Mars.
THE BOARD: Square board consisting of one hundred alternate black and orange squares. THE PIECES: In order, as they stand upon the board in the first row, from left to right of each player. Warrior: 2 feathers; 2 spaces straight in any direction or combination. Padwar: 2 feathers; 2 spaces diagonal in any direction or combination. Dwar: 3 feathers; 3 spaces straight in any direction or combination. Flier: 3 bladed propeller; 3 spaces diagonal in any direction or combination; and may jump intervening pieces. Chief: Diadem with ten jewels; 3 spaces in any direction; straight or diagonal or combination. Princess: Diadem with one jewel; same as Chief, except may jump intervening pieces. Flier: See above. Dwar: See above. Padwar: See above. Warrior: See above.
And in the second row from left to right:
Thoats: Mounted warrior 2 feathers; 2 spaces, one straight and one diagonal in any direction.
Panthans: (8 of them): 1 feather; 1 space, forward, side, or diagonal, but not backward.
Thoats: See above.
The game is played with twenty black pieces by one player and twenty orange by his opponent, and is presumed to have originally represented a battle between the Black race of the south and the Yellow race of the north. On Mars the board is usually arranged so that the Black pieces are played from the south and the Orange from the north.
The game is won when any piece is placed on same square with opponent’s Princess, or a Chief takes a Chief.
The game is drawn when either Chief is taken by a piece other than the opposing Chief, or when both sides are reduced to three pieces, or less, of equal value and the game is not won in the ensuing ten moves, five apiece.
The Princess may not move onto a threatened square, nor may she take an opposing piece. She is entitled to one ten-space move at any time during the game. This move is called the escape.
Two pieces may not occupy the same square except in the final move of a game where the Princess is taken.
When a player, moving properly and in order, places one of his pieces upon a square occupied by an opponent piece, the opponent piece is considered to have been killed and is removed from the game.
The moves explained. Straight moves mean due north, south, east, or west; diagonal moves mean north-east, south-east, south-west, or north-west. A Dwar might move straight north three spaces, or north one space and east two spaces, or any similar combination of straight moves, so long as he did not cross the same square twice in a single move. This example explains combination moves.
The first move may be decided in any way that is agreeable to both players; after the first game the winner of the preceding
game moves first if he chooses, or may instruct his opponent to make the first move.
Gambling: The Martians gamble at jetan in several ways. Of course the outcome of the game indicates to whom the main stake belongs; but they also put a price upon the head of each piece, according to its value, and for each piece that a player loses he pays its value to his opponent.
prologue
A LETTER
HELIUM, June 8th, 1925
MY DEAR MR. BURROUGHS:
It was in the Fall of nineteen seventeen at an officers’ training camp that I first became acquainted with John Carter, Warlord of Barsoom, through the pages of your novel “A Princess of Mars.” The story made a profound impression upon me and while my better judgment assured me that it was but a highly imaginative piece of fiction, a suggestion of the verity of it pervaded my inner consciousness to such an extent that I found myself dreaming of Mars and John Carter, of Dejah Thoris, of Tars Tarkas and of Woola as if they had been entities of my own experience rather than the figments of your imagination.
It is true that in those days of strenuous preparation there was little time for dreaming, yet there were brief moments before sleep claimed me at night and these were my dreams. Such dreams! Always of Mars, and during my waking hours at night my eyes always sought out the Red Planet when he was above the horizon and clung there seeking a solution of the seemingly unfathomable riddle he has presented to the Earthman for ages.
Perhaps the thing became an obsession. I know it clung to me all during my training camp days, and at night, on the deck of the transport, I would lie on my back gazing up into the red eye of the god of battle—my god—and wishing that, like John Carter, I might be drawn across the great void to the haven of my desire.
And then came the hideous days and nights in the trenches—the rats, the vermin, the mud—with an occasional glorious break in the monotony when we were ordered over the top. I loved it then and I loved the bursting shells, the mad, wild chaos of the thundering guns, but the rats and the vermin and the mud—God! how I hated them. It sounds like boasting, I know, and I am sorry; but I wanted to write you just the truth about myself. I think you will understand. And it may account for much that happened afterwards.
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