CHAPTER III
_The Price of Monarchy_
Had Sime been able to follow and watch the girl he had kissed undersuch unusual circumstances on the night of his arrival on Mars, hewould have been both puzzled and enlightened. After her final warningabout Scar Balta she dashed into the luxurious gloom of the passage.At an intersection a maid was awaiting her. She curtseyed as she threwa cape over the girl's shoulder, and together they hurried out intothe night.
A magnificently uniformed hotel servant called a private car, drew thevitrine curtains, and saluted as the car lifted sharply into thechilly night air. The car sped across the canal to the jeweled cityacross the water, to a residence district whose magnificence even thepale night light revealed.
The two women entered a mansion of glittering metal and came to aprivate apartment.
"Everybody's gone to bed," said the girl, addressing her maid."That's one thing we can be thankful for."
"Yes, Your Highness. Did you discover anything of importance in theman's room?"
"No. Draw me a bath, Mellie. He--he caught me--and kissed me!"
The maid, with flasks of perfume and aromatic oils in her hand,paused, discreetly impudent.
"You seem not displeased, Your Highness."
"But of that he had no inkling." And Princess Sira laughed. "I lefthim standing, utterly at a loss. He took me for a common assassin, andyet he wanted to kiss me. That pleased me. But if he had valuableinformation he kept it. And I promised him death for his kiss."
* * * * *
As Princess Sira, claimant to the throne of a planet, slipped into thetepid waters of her bath, Mellie stood by, her smooth little Martian'sface disturbed. For she loved her mistress, and could not comprehendthe things she did under ambition's sway.
"Your Highness, couldn't you let your royal friends do these dangerousthings for you?"
"For what? For fear? And how could a Martian princess who knows fearlay claim to a throne? No, Mellie, one gets used to it. The enemies ofthe house of Sira are ever alert. Didn't they murder my father and mymother, and my only brother? My peril in this palace is as great as inthe room of a terrestrial detective. Only their fear of the people--"
She was interrupted by the tinkling of a bell. The maid left thealcove, and returned a moment later with the news that Joro, Prince ofHanlon, awaited the princess's pleasure in the ante-room.
"At this hour!" exclaimed the princess. "Did he say what brought himhere?"
"Something about a new plot."
"Plots! They fall thicker than rain on Venus. Bid him wait."
Fifteen minutes later, swathed in a trailing orange silk robe thatmade her look like a Venus orchid, she greeted the prince.
"Greetings, Joro. We seem to have the unusual this night."
The prince, a thin, elderly man of medium stature, smiled admiringly.His sharp features and bright little button eyes gave some hint of theenergy which suffused him. Here was a man both ruthless and loyal tohis royal house. He addressed her by her given name.
"The hour seems to make no difference with you; Phobos has set, but aslong as you are awake there is loveliness enough. I have come, dearone, to tell you that success is ours at last!"
* * * * *
Sira smiled. "I will restrain my joy, my good Joro, until I hear theprice."
"Always the same!" Joro chuckled. "A price, 'tis true, but not tooheavy, since you are, in a manner, fond of him."
"I've had vague promises from Wilcox," Sira said, with a wry smile. "Iwould rather trade places with Mellie than be espoused by thatmadman."
"Not Wilcox, but Scar Balta. He is badly smitten, for which I can notblame him. He has great political power, and the backing of themilitary. He could have dictated better terms, but for love of you hasyielded, point after point. He wants nothing now but your hand inmarriage, and is prepared to cede to the royal cause all theadvantages he has gained--"
"Not to mention," Sira interjected, "the royal prestige he will gainwith the common people."
Joro laughed, a little impatiently.
"True, true! But after all, what does the support of the people amountto? They are powerless. If you are ever to establish your royal houseyou must have other help."
"And I suppose," Sira continued sweetly, "that you have also arrangeda deal with the central banks and the secret war interests?"
Joro coughed uncomfortably.
"As a matter of fact--you see, my dear princess, there are certaincommercial interests--transportation, mining, and so forth. They havedefied the power of the bankers. They are likely to upset our wholeorder of society. They need a set-back. And the military men arechafing at their inaction. The war will be ended before too much harmis done, by agreement of the interplanetary bankers. You see--"
"No!" Sira interrupted him coldly. "No! No! No! Oh, I'm sick of thewhole thing! I'm sick of the men I know! I hate Scar Balta, and youtoo. I would rather be the wife of a common interplanetary patrolmanthan queen of Mars! I withdraw, now!"
* * * * *
Joro, struck by her vehemence, paled. The muscles of his jaw lumped.From a pocket he took a portable disk-radio, an inch in diameter, andspoke a few words. From outside there was a sudden uproar, shouts andcurses. The draperies moved, as with an outrush of air caused by thecareless handling of an airlock, and the temperature dropped suddenly.
Sira was irresolute only a split second. With a cat-like leap sheseized a short sword from the wall, made a lunge at the prince. ButJoro, the veteran of many a battle of wits and arms, parried thestroke with the thick barrel of his neuro-pistol, caught the girl'swrist and disarmed her. The screams of the maid went unheeded.
From the other parts of the palace came sounds of struggle, theclashing of sword on sword.
"Sira! Sira!" Joro panted, struggling to hold the girl. "You mustgive up your impractical ideas! Take the world as it is. Do as I tellyou and you'll not be sorry."
"I relinquish my claims!" the girl cried fiercely. "To-morrow I willpublicly announce that decision. All my life has been spent feedingthat hopeless ambition. Now I will be free!"
"I am loyal to the monarchy," Joro grunted, pinioning her arms atlast. "I will guard your interest against yourself."
He began to shout:
"Hendricks, Mervin, Carpender, Nassus! Here, to the princess'schamber."
Several men, after further delay and fighting, responded. They worecivilian blouses and trousers, but there was that something in theiralert carriage that proclaimed them trained fighting men. One of themsat down with a grunt on the threshold, holding his hand to a bleedingwound under his armpit. He appeared to be mortally wounded.
* * * * *
Most of the others carried minor wounds, showing that the palaceguards had put up a good battle in the sword-play. Both sides hadrefrained from using the neuro-pistols for fear that the beams, whichreadily penetrated walls at short range, might injure the princess.
"Let go!" Sira wrenched herself free. "Where is Tolto? Has Toltoturned traitor? How did you get past Tolto?"
"Do not use that ugly word against me. I implore you!" Joro protested."What we are doing is out of loyalty to the monarchy--not treason. Themonarchy is of greater importance than individuals. Consider your dutyto the rule of your fathers! As for Tolto--"
He issued a curt command, and there was the sound of movement.Presently four men staggered in, one to each leg, each arm, of themost impressive giant Mars had ever produced--Tolto, to whom there wasno god but the one divinity: and Princess Sira was she. Slow ofperception, mighty of limb, he had come into her service from someoutlying agricultural region of the red planet. His tremendous muscleswere hers to command or destroy, as she wished. He would not haveconsented to this invasion of her home, she knew!
And he had not. Joro had been too wise to try. A dose of _marchlor_ ina glass of wine had done what fifty men could not have accomplished byma
in strength. Tolto was in a drugged sleep.
Joro said: "He isn't hurt. We will simply send him back to his valley,and you, my dear princess, will do your duty to your subjects!"
And there, though he probably did not know it, Prince Joro harked backto the youth of the human race--the compensatory, atavistic principlethat gods, rulers, kings, must hold themselves in readiness assacrifices for the good of their subjects. Joro might have been atribal high priest invoking their dread rule in the dawn of time. TheMartians were, for all their scientific advancement, still thedescendants of those prehistoric human savages. Sira knew,instinctively, that the people who loved her would neverthelessapprove of Joro's judgment.