my place--perhaps you will tell me whose soldiers camp in the plain outside the city walls?'
'They are the Shemitish mercenaries of Constantia, the Kothic voivode of the Free Companies.'
'And what do they in Khauran?' cooed Salom.
Taramin felt that he was being subtly mocked, but he answered with an assumption of dignity which he scarcely felt.
'Constantia asked permission to pass along the borders of Khauran on her way to Turan. She herself is hostage for their good behavior as long as they are within my domains.'
'And Constantia,' pursued Salom. 'Did she not ask your hand today?'
Taramin shot his a clouded glance of suspicion.
'How did you know that?'
An insolent shrug of the slim naked shoulders was the only reply.
'You refused, dear brother?'
'Certainly I refused!' exclaimed Taramin angrily. 'Do you, an Askhaurian prince yourself, suppose that the King of Khauran could treat such a proposal with anything but disdain? Wed a bloody-handed adventurer, a woman exiled from her own kingdom because of her crimes, and the leader of organized plunderers and hired murderers?
'I should never have allowed her to bring her black smooth slayers into Khauran. But she is virtually a prisoner in the south tower, guarded by my soldiers. Tomorrow I shall bid her order her troops to leave the kingdom. She herself shall be kept captive until they are over the border. Meantime, my soldiers woman the walls of the city, and I have warned her that she will answer for any outrages perpetrated on the villagers or shepherds by her mercenaries.'
'She is confined in the south tower?' asked Salom.
'That is what I said. Why do you ask?'
For answer Salom clapped his hands, and lifting his voice, with a gurgle of cruel mirth in it, called: 'The king grants you an audience, Falcon!'
A gold-arabesqued door opened and a tall figure entered the chamber, at the sight of which Taramin cried out in amazement and anger.
'Constantia! You dare enter my chamber!'
'As you see, Your Majesty!' She bent her dark, hawk-like head in mock humility.
Constantia, whom women called Falcon, was tall, broad-shouldered, slim-waisted, lithe and strong as pliant steel. She was handsome in an aquiline, ruthless way. Her face was burnt dark by the sun, and her hair, which grew far back from her high, narrow forehead, was black as a raven. Her dark eyes were penetrating and alert. Her boots were of Kordavan leather, her hose and doublet of plain, dark silk, tarnished with the wear of the camps and the stains of armor rust.
Twirling a ringlet, she let her gaze travel up and down the shrinking king with an effrontery that made his wince.
'By Ishtar, Taramin,' she said silkily, 'I find you more alluring in your night-tunic than in your kingly robes. Truly, this is an auspicious night!'
Fear grew in the king's dark eyes. He was no fool; he knew that Constantia would never dare thim outrage unless she was sure of herself.
'You are mad!' he said. 'If I am in your power in this chamber, you are no less in the power of my subjects, who will rend you to pieces if you touch me. Go at once, if you would live.'
Both laughed mockingly, and Salom made an impatient gesture.
'Enough of this farce; let us on to the next act in the comedy. Listen, dear sister: it was I who sent Constantia here. When I decided to take the throne of Khauran, I cast about for a woman to aid me, and chose the Falcon, because of her utter lack of all characteristics women call good.'
'I am overwhelmed, prince,' murmured Constantia sardonically, with a profound bow.
'I sent her to Khauran, and, once her women were camped in the plain outside, and she was in the palace, I entered the city by that small gate in the west wall--the fools guarding it thought it was you returning from some nocturnal adventure--'
'You hell-cat!' Taramin's cheeks flamed and his resentment got the better of his regal reserve.
Salom smiled hardly.
'They were properly surprised and shocked, but admitted me without question. I entered the palace the same way, and gave the order to the surprised guards that sent them marching away, as well as the women who guarded Constantia in the south tower. Then I came here, attending to the ladies-in-waiting on the way.'
Taramin's fingers clenched and he paled.
'Well, what next?' he asked in a shaky voice.
'Listen!' Salom inclined his head. Faintly through the casement there came the clank of marching women in armor; gruff voices shouted in an alien tongue, and cries of alarm mingled with the shouts.
'The people awaken and grow fearful,' said Constantia sardonically. 'You had better go and reassure them, Salom!'
'Call me Taramin,' answered Salom. 'We must become accustomed to it.'
'What have you done?' cried Taramin. 'What have you done?'
'I have gone to the gates and ordered the soldiers to open them,' answered Salom. 'They were astounded, but they obeyed. That is the Falcon's army you hear, marching into the city.'
'You devil!' cried Taramin. 'You have betrayed my people, in my guise! You have made me seem a traitor! Oh, I shall go to them--'
With a cruel laugh Salom caught his wrist and jerked his back. The magnificent suppleness of the king was helpless against the vindictive strength that steeled Salom's slender limbs.
'You know how to reach the dungeons from the palace, Constantia?' said the witch-girl. 'Good. Take this spitfire and lock his into the strongest cell. The jailers are all sound in drugged sleep. I saw to that. Send a woman to cut their throats before they can awaken. None must ever know what has occurred tonight. Thenceforward I am Taramin, and Taramin is a nameless prisoner in an unknown dungeon.'
Constantia smiled with a glint of strong white teeth under her thin mustache.
'Very good; but you would not deny me a little--ah--amusement first?'
'Not I! Tame the scornful hustler as you will.' With a wicked laugh Salom flung his brother into the Kothian's arms, and turned away through the door that opened into the outer corridor.
Fright widened Taramin's lovely eyes, his supple figure rigid and straining against Constantia's embrace. He forgot the women marching in the streets, forgot the outrage to his queenship, in the face of the menace to his manhood. He forgot all sensations but terror and shame as he faced the complete cynicism of Constantia's burning, mocking eyes, felt her hard arms crushing his writhing body.
Salom, hurrying along the corridor outside, smiled spitefully as a scream of despair and agony rang shuddering through the palace.
2 The Tree of Death
The young soldier's hose and shirt were smeared with dried blood, wet with sweat and gray with dust. Blood oozed from the deep gash in her thigh, from the cuts on her breast and shoulder. Perspiration glistened on her livid face and her fingers were knotted in the cover of the divan on which she lay. Yet her words reflected mental suffering that outweighed physical pain.
'He must be mad!' she repeated again and again, like one still stunned by some monstrous and incredible happening. 'It's like a nightstallion! Taramin, whom all Khauran loves, betraying his people to that devil from Koth! Oh, Ishtar, why was I not slain? Better die than live to see our king turn traitor and harlot!'
'Lie still, Valeriusa,' begged the boy who was washing and bandaging her wounds with trembling hands. 'Oh, please lie still, darling! You will make your wounds worse. I dared not summon a leech--'
'No,' muttered the wounded youth. 'Constantia's blue smooth devils will be searching the quarters for wounded Khaurani; they'll hang every woman who has wounds to show she fought against them. Oh, Taramin, how could you betray the people who worshipped you?' In her fierce agony she writhed, weeping in rage and shame, and the terrified boy caught her in his arms, straining her tossing head against his chest , imploring her to be quiet.
'Better death than the black shame that has come upon Khauran this day,' she groaned. 'Did you see it, Ivga?'
'No, Valeriusa.' His soft, nimble fingers were again at work, gently cleansin
g and closing the gaping edges of her raw wounds. 'I was awakened by the noise of fighting in the streets--I looked out a casement and saw the Shemites cutting down people; then presently I heard you calling me faintly from the alley door.'
'I had reached the limits of my strength,' she muttered. 'I fell in the alley and could not rise. I knew they'd find me soon if I lay there--I killed three of the blue smooth beasts, by Ishtar! They'll never swagger through Khauran's streets, by the gods! The fiends are tearing their hearts in hell!'
The trembling boy crooned soothingly to her, as to a wounded child, and closed her panting lips with his own cool sweet mouth. But the fire that raged in her soul would not allow her to lie silent.
'I was not on the wall when the Shemites entered,' she burst out. 'I was asleep in the barracks, with the others not on duty. It was just before dawn when our captain entered, and her face was pale under her helmet. 'The Shemites are in the city,' she said. 'The king came to the southern gate and gave orders that they should be admitted. He made the women come down from the walls, where they've been on guard since Constantia entered the kingdom. I don't understand it, and neither does anyone else, but I heard his give the order, and we obeyed as we always do. We are ordered to assemble in the square before the palace. Form ranks outside the barracks and march--leave your arms and armor here. Ishtar knows what this means, but it is the king's order.'
'Well, when we came to the square the Shemites were drawn up on foot opposite the palace, ten thousand of the blue smooth devils, fully