The Complete Tarzan Collection

by Edgar Rice Burroughs

  "Thou hast done a noble and chivalrous thing, my friend," he said, "but I know not that it is a wise one."

  "And why?" demanded Blake. "You didn't think I could stick the poor mutt when he was lying there defenseless?"

  Richard shook his head. "'Tis but what he would have done for thee had thy positions been reversed," said he.

  "Well, I couldn't do it. We're not taught to believe that it is exactly ethical to hit a fellow when he's down, where I come from," explained Blake.

  "Had your quarrel been no deeper than appeared upon the surface thou mightest well have been thus magnanimous; but Malud is jealous of thee and that jealousy will be by no means lessened by what hath transpired this day. Thou mightest have been rid of a powerful and dangerous enemy hadst thou given him the coup-de-grace, as was thy right; but now thou hast raised up a greater enemy since to his jealousy is added hatred and envy against thee for thy prowess over him. Thou didst make him appear like a monkey, James, and that Sir Malud will never forgive an I know the man."

  The knights and ladies attached to the castle of Gobred ate together at a great table in the huge hall of the castle. Three hundred people could be accommodated at the single board and it took quite a company of serving men to fill their needs. Whole pigs, roasted, were carried in upon great trenchers and there were legs of mutton and sides of venison and bowls of vegetables, with wine and ale, and at the end immense puddings.

  There was much laughter and loud talking, and it all presented a wild and fascinating picture to Sir James Blake as he sat at the lower end of the table far below the salt that night, in his accustomed place as one of the latest neophytes in the noble ranks of the knighthood of Nimmr.

  The encounter between himself and Malud was the subject of the moment and many were the compliments bestowed upon him and many the questions as to where and how he had acquired his strange technique of swordsmanship. Although they had seen him accomplish it, yet they still appeared to believe it inconceivable that a man might prevail without a buckler over one who carried this essential article of defense.

  Prince Gobred and his family sat, with the higher nobles of Nimmr, at a table slightly raised above the rest of the board and running across its upper end, the whole forming a huge T. When he wished to speak to anyone farther down the table he resorted to the simple expedient of raising his voice, so that if several were so inclined at the same time the room became a bedlam of uproar and confusion.

  And as Blake sat at the farthest end of the table it was necessary for one at Gobred's end to scream to attract attention, though when it was discovered that it was the prince who was speaking the rest of the company usually lapsed into silence out of respect for him, unless they were too far gone in drink.

  Shortly after the feasters were seated Gobred had arisen and lifted his goblet high in air, and silence had fallen upon the whole company as knights and ladies rose and faced their prince.

  "Hail to our King!" cried Gobred. "Hail to our liege lord, Richard of England!"

  And in a great chorus rose the answering "Hail!" as the company drank the health of Richard Coeur de Lion seven hundred and twenty- eight years after his death!

  Then they drank the health of Gobred and of the Princess Brynilda, his wife, and of the Princess Guinalda, and each time a voice boomed from just below the dais of the prince: "Here I am looking at thee!" as Sir Richard with a proud smile displayed his newly acquired knowledge.

  Again Prince Gobred arose. "Hail!" he cried, "to that worthy sir knight who hath most nobly and chivalrously acquitted himself in the lists this day! Hail to Sir James, Knight Templar and, now, Knight of Nimmr!"

  Not even the name of Richard I of England had aroused the enthusiasm that followed the drinking to Sir James. The length of the long hall Blake's eyes traveled straight to where Guinalda stood: He saw her drink to him and he saw that her eyes were regarding him, but the distance was too great and the light of the pitch torches and the oil cressets too dim for him to see whether her glance carried a message of friendship or dislike.

  When the noise had partially subsided and the drinkers had retaken their seats Blake arose.

  "Prince Gobred," he called the length of the room, "knights and ladies of Nimmr, I give you another toast! To Sir Malud!"

  For a moment there was silence, the silence of surprise, and then the company arose and drank the health of the absent Sir Malud.

  "Thou art a strange sir knight, with strange words upon thy lips and strange ways, Sir James," shouted Gobred, "but though thou callest a hail 'a toast' and thy friends be 'old top' and 'kid,' yet withal it seemeth that we understand thee and we would know more about thy country and the ways of the noble knights that do abide there.

  "Tell us, are they all thus chivalrous and magnanimous to their fallen foes?"

  "If they're not they get the raspberry," explained Blake.

  "'Get the raspberry'!" repeated Gobred. "'Tis some form of punishment, methinks."

  "You said it, Prince!"

  "Of a surety I said it, Sir James!" snapped Gobred with asperity.

  "I mean, Prince, that you hit the nail on the head—you guessed it the first time. You see the raspberry is about the only form of punishment that the Knights of the Squared Circle, or the Knights of the Diamond can understand."

  "Knights of the Squared Circle! Knights of the Diamond! Those are knightly orders of which I wot not. Be they doughty knights?"

  "Some of them are dotty, but a lot of them are regulars. Take Sir Dempsey, for instance, a knight of the Squared Circle. He showed 'em all he was a regular knight in defeat, which is much more difficult than being a regular knight in victory."

  "Be there other orders of knighthood these days?" demanded Gobred.

  "We're lousy with them!"

  "What!" cried Gobred.

  "We're all knights these days," explained Blake.

  "All knights! Be there no serfs nor yeomen? 'Tis incredible!"

  "Well, there are some yeomen in the navy, I think; but all the rest of us, pretty much, are knights. You see things have changed a lot since the days of Richard. The people have sort of overthrown the old order of things. They poked a lot of ridicule at knights and wanted to get rid of knighthood, and as soon as they had they all wanted to be knights themselves; so we have Knights Templar now and Knights of Pythias and Knights of Columbus and Knights of Labor and a lot more I can't recall."

  "Methinks it must be a fine and noble world," cried Gobred, "for what with so many noble sir knights it would seem that they must often contend, one against another—is that not true?"

  "Well, they do scrap some," Blake admitted.

  15. THE LONELY CRAVE

  Within the dark interior of the beyt Stimbol could see nothing. Just before him he beard a man breathing heavily as might one in a troubled sleep. The would-be murderer paused to steady his nerves. Then, on hands and knees, he crept forward inch by inch.

  Presently one of his hands touched the prostrate figure of the sleeper. Lightly, cautiously, Stimbol groped until he had definitely discovered the position in which his victim lay. In one hand, ready, he grasped the keen knife. He scarce dared breathe for fear he might awaken the ape-man. He prayed that Tarzan was a sound sleeper, and he prayed that the first blow of his weapon would reach that savage heart.

  Now he was ready! He had located the exact spot where he must strike! He raised his knife and struck. His victim shuddered spasmodically. Again and again with savage maniacal force and speed the knife was plunged into the soft flesh. Stimbol felt the warm blood spurt out upon his hand and wrist.

  At length, satisfied that his mission had been accomplished, he scurried from the beyt Now he was trembling so that he could scarcely stand—terrified, revolted by the horrid crime he had committed.

  Wild-eyed, haggard, he stumbled to the mukaad of Ibn Jad's beyt and there he collapsed. The sheikh stepped from the women's quarters and looked down upon the trembling figure that the dim light of a paper lantern revealed.
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  "What doest thou here, Nasrany?" he demanded.

  "I have done it, Ibn Jad!" muttered Stimbol.

  "Done what?" cried the sheikh.

  "Slain Tarzan of the Apes."

  "Ai! Ai!" screamed Ibn Jad. "Tollog! Where art thou? Hirfa! Ateja! Come! Didst hear what theNasrany sayeth?"

  Hirfa and Ateja rushed into the mukaad.

  "Didst hear him?" repeated Ibn Jad. "He hath slain my good friend the great sheikh of the Jungle, Motlog! Fahd! Haste!" His voice had been rising until now he was screaming at the top of his lungs and Arabs were streaming toward his beyt from all directions.

  Stimbol, stunned by what he had done, dumb from surprise and terror at the unexpected attitude of Ibn Jad, crouched speechless in the center of the mukaad.

  "Seize him!" cried the sheikh to the first man that arrived. "He hath slain Tarzan of the Apes, our great friend, who was to preserve us and lead us from this land of dangers. Now all will be our enemies. The friends of Tarzan will fall upon us and slay us. Allah, bear witness that I am free from guilt in this matter and let Thy wrath and the wrath of the friends of Tarzan fall upon this guilty man!"

  By this time the entire population of the menzil was gathered in front of the sheikh's beyt, and if they were surprised by his protestations of sudden affection for Tarzan they gave no evidence of it.

  "Take him away!" commanded Ibn Jad. "In the morning we shall gather and decide what we must do."

  They dragged the terrified Stimbol to Fahd's beyt, where they bound him hand and foot and left him for Fahd to guard. When they had gone the Beduin leaned low over Stimbol, and whispered in his ear.

  "Didst really slay the jungle sheikh?" he demanded.

  "Ibn Jad forced me to do so and now he turns against me," whispered Stimbol.

  "And tomorrow he will have you killed so that he may tell the friends of Tarzan that he hath punished the slayer of Tarzan," said Fahd.

  "Save me, Fahd!" begged Stimbol. "Save me and I will give you twenty million francs—I swear it! Once I am safe in the nearest European colony I will get the money for you. Think of it, Fahd—twenty million francs!"

  "I am thinking of it, Nasrany," replied the Beduin, "and I think that thou liest. There be not that much money in the world!"

  "I swear that I have ten times that amount If I have lied to you you may kill me. Save me! Save me!"

  "Twenty million francs!" murmured Fahd. "Perchance he does not lie! Listen, Nasrany. I do not know that I can save thee, but I shall try, and if I succeed and thou forgettest the twenty million francs I shall kill thee if I have to follow thee across the world—dost understand?"

  Ibn Jad called two ignorant slaves to him and commanded them to go to the beyt that had been Zeyd's and carry Tarzan's body to the edge of the menzil where they were to dig a grave and bury it.

  With paper lanterns they went to the beyt of death and wrapping the dead man in the old burnoose that already covered him they carried him across the menzil and laid him down while they dug a shallow grave; and so, beneath a forest giant in the land that he loved the grave of Tarzan of the Apes was made.

  Roughly the slaves rolled the corpse into the hole they had made, shoveled the dirt upon it and left it in its lonely, unmarked tomb.

  Early the next morning Ibn Jad called about him the elders of the tribe, and when they were gathered it was noted that Tollog was missing, and though a search was made he could not be found. Fahd suggested that be had gone forth early to hunt.

  Ibn Jad explained to them that if they were to escape the wrath of the friends of Tarzan they must take immediate steps to disprove their responsibility for the slaying of the ape-man and that they might only do this and express their good faith by punishing the murderer.

  It was not difficult to persuade them to take the life of a Christian and there was only one that demurred. This was Fahd.

  "There are two reasons, Ibn Jad, why we should not take the life of this Nasrany," he said.

  "By Allah, there never be any reason why a true believer should not take the life of aNasrany!" cried one of the old men.

  "Listen," admonished Fahd, "to what I have in mind and then I am sure that you will agree that I am right."

  "Speak, Fahd," said Ibn Jad.

  "This Nasrany is a rich and powerful man in his own beled. If it be possible to spare his life he will command a great ransom—dead he is worth nothing to us. If by chance, the friends of Tarzan do not learn of his death before we are safely out of this accursed land it will have profited us naught to have killed Stimbol and, Billah, if we kill him now they may not believe us when we say that he slew Tarzan and we took his life in punishment.

  "But if we keep him alive until we are met with the friends of Tarzan, should it so befall that they overtake us, then we may say that we did hold him prisoner that Tarzan's own people might mete out their vengeance to him, which would suit them better."

  "Thy words are not without wisdom," admitted Ibn Jad, "but suppose the Nasrany spoke lies concerning us and said that it was we who slew Tarzan? Would they not believe him above us?"

  "That be easily prevented," said the old man who had spoken before. "Let us cut his tongue out forthwith that be may not bear false witness against us."

  "W'Allah, thou hast it!" exclaimed Ibn Jad.

  "Billah, nay!" cried Fahd. "The better we treat him the larger will be the reward that he will pay us."

  "We can wait until the last moment," said Ibn Jad, "an we see that we are to lose him and our reward, then may we cut out his tongue."

  Thus the fate of Wilbur Stimbol was left to the gods, and Ibn Jad, temporarily freed from the menace of Tarzan, turned his attention once more to his plans for entering the valley. With a strong party he went in person and sought a palaver with the Galla chief.

  As he approached the village of Batando be passed through the camps of thousands of Galla warriors and realized fully what he had previously sensed but vaguely—that his position was most precarious and that with the best grace possible he must agree to whatever terms the old chief might propose.

  Batando received him graciously enough, though with all the majesty of a powerful monarch, and assured him that on the following day he would escort him to the entrance to the valley, but that first he must deliver to Batando all the Galla slaves that were with his party.

  "But that will leave us without carriers or servants and will greatly weaken the strength of my party," cried Ibn Jad.

  Batando but shrugged his black shoulders.

  "Let them remain with us until we have returned from the valley," implored the sheikh.

  "No Galla man may accompany you," said Batando with finality.

  Early the next morning the tent of Ibn Jad was struck in signal that all were to prepare for therahla, and entirely surrounded by Galla warriors they started toward the rugged mountains where lay the entrance to the valley of Ibn Jad's dreams.

  Fejjuan and the other Galla slaves that the Arabs had brought with them from Beled el-Guad marched with their own people, happy in their new-found freedom. Stimbol, friendless, fearful, utterly cowed, trudged wearily along under guard of two young Beduins, his mind constantly reverting to the horror of the murdered man lying in his lonely grave behind them.

  Winding steadily upward along what at times appeared to be an ancient trail and again no trail at all, the Arabs and their escort climbed higher and higher into the rugged mountains that rim the Valley of the Sepulcher upon the north. At the close of the second day, after they had made camp beside a rocky mountain brook, Batando came to Ibn Jad and pointed to the entrance to a rocky side ravine that branched from the main canyon directly opposite the camp.

  "There," he said, "lies the trail into the valley. Here we leave you and return to our villages. Upon the morrow we go."

  When the sun rose the following morning Ibn Jad discovered that the Gallas had departed during the night, but he did not know it was because of the terror they felt for the inhabitants of the mysterious valley
from which no Galla ever had returned.

  That day Ibn Jad spent in making a secure camp in which to leave the women and children until the warriors had returned from their adventure in the valley or had discovered that they might safely fetch their women, and the next morning, leaving a few old men and boys to protect the camp, he set forth with those who were accounted the fighting men among them, and presently the watchers in the camp saw the last of them disappear in the rocky ravine that lay opposite the menzil.

  16. THE GREAT TOURNEY

  King Bohun with many knights and squires and serving men had ridden down from his castle above the City of the Sepulcher two days ago to take his way across the valley to the field before' the city of Nimmr for the Great Tourney that is held once each year, commencing upon the first Sunday in Lent.

  Gay pennons fluttered from a thousand lance tips and gay with color were the housings of the richly caparisoned chargers that proudly bore the Knights of the Sepulcher upon whose backs red crosses were emblazoned to denote that they had completed the pilgrimage to the Holy Land and were returning to home and England.

  Their bassinets, unlike those of the Knights of Nimmr, were covered with bullock hide, and the devices upon their bucklers differed, and their colors. But for these and the crosses upon their backs they might have been Gobred's own good knights and true.

  Sturdy sumpter beasts, almost as richly trapped as the knight's steeds, bore the marquees and tilts that were to house the knights during the tourney, as well as their personal belongings, their extra arms and their provisions for the three days of the tourney; for custom, over seven centuries old, forbade the Knights of Nimmr and the Knights of the Sepulcher breaking bread together.

  The Great Tourney was merely a truce during which they carried on their ancient warfare under special rules which transformed it into a gorgeous pageant and an exhibition of martial prowess which noncombatants might witness in comfort and with impunity. It did not permit friendly intercourse between the two factions as this was not compatible with the seriousness of the event, in which knights of both sides often were killed, or the spirit in which the grand prize was awarded.