The Lost Continent
betrayed how recently she had acquired her slight knowledge of the
tongue.
“I go on my knees to no one,” she said. “I have no sovereign. I myself
am sovereign in my own country.”
Menelek, at her words, leaned back in his throne and laughed
uproariously. Following his example, which seemed always the correct
procedure, the assembled guests vied with one another in an effort to
laugh more noisily than the emperor.
The girl but tilted her chin a bit higher in the air—even her back
proclaimed her utter contempt for her captors. Finally Menelek restored
quiet by the simple expedient of a frown, whereupon each loyal guest
exchanged his mirthful mien for an emulative scowl.
“And who,” asked Menelek, “are you, and by what name is your country
called?”
“I am Victory, Queen of Grabritin,” replied the girl so quickly and so
unexpectedly that I gasped in astonishment.
CHAPTER IX.
Victory! She was here, a slave to these black conquerors. Once more I
started toward her, but better judgment held me back—I could do nothing
to help her other than by stealth. Could I even accomplish aught by
this means? I did not know. It seemed beyond the pale of possibility,
and yet I should try.
“And you will not bend the knee to me?” continued Menelek, after she
had spoken. Victory shook her head in a most decided negation.
“You shall be my first choice, then,” said the emperor. “I like your
spirit, for the breaking of it will add to my pleasure in you, and
never fear but that it shall be broken—this very night. Take her to my
apartments,” and he motioned to an officer at his side.
I was surprised to see Victory follow the man off in apparent quiet
submission. I tried to follow, that I might be near her against some
opportunity to speak with her or assist in her escape. But, after I had
followed them from the throne room, through several other apartments,
and down a long corridor, I found my further progress barred by a
soldier who stood guard before a doorway through which the officer
conducted Victory.
Almost immediately the officer reappeared and started back in the
direction of the throne room. I had been hiding in a doorway after the
guard had turned me back, having taken refuge there while his back was
turned, and, as the officer approached me, I withdrew into the room
beyond, which was in darkness. There I remained for a long time,
watching the sentry before the door of the room in which Victory was a
prisoner, and awaiting some favorable circumstance which would give me
entry to her.
I have not attempted to fully describe my sensations at the moment I
recognized Victory, because, I can assure you, they were entirely
indescribable. I should never have imagined that the sight of any human
being could affect me as had this unexpected discovery of Victory in
the same room in which I was, while I had thought of her for weeks
either as dead, or at best hundreds of miles to the west, and as
irretrievably lost to me as though she were, in truth, dead.
I was filled with a strange, mad impulse to be near her. It was not
enough merely to assist her, or protect her—I desired to touch her—to
take her in my arms. I was astounded at myself. Another thing puzzled
me—it was my incomprehensible feeling of elation since I had again seen
her. With a fate worse than death staring her in the face, and with the
knowledge that I should probably die defending her within the hour, I
was still happier than I had been for weeks—and all because I had seen
again for a few brief minutes the figure of a little heathen maiden. I
couldn’t account for it, and it angered me; I had never before felt any
such sensations in the presence of a woman, and I had made love to some
very beautiful ones in my time.
It seemed ages that I stood in the shadow of that doorway, in the
ill-lit corridor of the palace of Menelek XIV. A sickly gas jet cast a
sad pallor upon the black face of the sentry. The fellow seemed rooted
to the spot. Evidently he would never leave, or turn his back again.
I had been in hiding but a short time when I heard the sound of distant
cannon. The truce had ended, and the battle had been resumed. Very
shortly thereafter the earth shook to the explosion of a shell within
the city, and from time to time thereafter other shells burst at no
great distance from the palace. The yellow men were bombarding New
Gondar again.
Presently officers and slaves commenced to traverse the corridor on
matters pertaining to their duties, and then came the emperor, scowling
and wrathful. He was followed by a few personal attendants, whom he
dismissed at the doorway to his apartments—the same doorway through
which Victory had been taken. I chafed to follow him, but the corridor
was filled with people. At last they betook themselves to their own
apartments, which lay upon either side of the corridor.
An officer and a slave entered the very room in which I hid, forcing me
to flatten myself to one side in the darkness until they had passed.
Then the slave made a light, and I knew that I must find another hiding
place.
Stepping boldly into the corridor, I saw that it was now empty save for
the single sentry before the emperorl’s door. He glanced up as I
emerged from the room, the occupants of which had not seen me. I walked
straight toward the soldier, my mind made up in an instant. I tried to
simulate an expression of cringing servility, and I must have
succeeded, for I entirely threw the man off his guard, so that he
permitted me to approach within reach of his rifle before stopping me.
Then it was too late—for him.
Without a word or a warning, I snatched the piece from his grasp, and,
at the same time struck him a terrific blow between the eyes with my
clenched fist. He staggered back in surprise, too dumbfounded even to
cry out, and then I clubbed his rifle and felled him with a single
mighty blow.
A moment later, I had burst into the room beyond. It was empty!
I gazed about, mad with disappointment. Two doors opened from this to
other rooms. I ran to the nearer and listened. Yes, voices were coming
from beyond and one was a womanl’s, level and cold and filled with
scorn. There was no terror in it. It was Victoryl’s.
I turned the knob and pushed the door inward just in time to see
Menelek seize the girl and drag her toward the far end of the
apartment. At the same instant there was a deafening roar just outside
the palace—a shell had struck much nearer than any of its predecessors.
The noise of it drowned my rapid rush across the room.
But in her struggles, Victory turned Menelek about so that he saw me.
She was striking him in the face with her clenched fist, and now he was
choking her.
At sight of me, he gave voice to a roar of anger.
“What means this, slave?” he cried. “Out of here! Out of here! Quick,
before I kill you!”
But for answer I rushed upon him, striking him with the butt of the
rifle. He staggered back, dropping Victory to the floor, and then he
cried aloud for the guard, and came at me. Again and again I struck
him; but his thick skull might have been armor plate, for all the
damage I did it.
He tried to close with me, seizing the rifle, but I was stronger than
he, and, wrenching the weapon from his grasp, tossed it aside and made
for his throat with my bare hands. I had not dared fire the weapon for
fear that its report would bring the larger guard stationed at the
farther end of the corridor.
We struggled about the room, striking one another, knocking over
furniture, and rolling upon the floor. Menelek was a powerful man, and
he was fighting for his life. Continually he kept calling for the
guard, until I succeeded in getting a grip upon his throat; but it was
too late. His cries had been heard, and suddenly the door burst open,
and a score of armed guardsmen rushed into the apartment.
Victory seized the rifle from the floor and leaped between me and them.
I had the black emperor upon his back, and both my hands were at his
throat, choking the life from him.
The rest happened in the fraction of a second. There was a rending
crash above us, then a deafening explosion within the chamber. Smoke
and powder fumes filled the room. Half stunned, I rose from the
lifeless body of my antagonist just in time to see Victory stagger to
her feet and turn toward me. Slowly the smoke cleared to reveal the
shattered remnants of the guard. A shell had fallen through the palace
roof and exploded just in the rear of the detachment of guardsmen who
were coming to the rescue of their emperor. Why neither Victory nor I
were struck is a miracle. The room was a wreck. A great, jagged hole
was torn in the ceiling, and the wall toward the corridor had been
blown entirely out.
As I rose, Victory had risen, too, and started toward me. But when she
saw that I was uninjured she stopped, and stood there in the center of
the demolished apartment looking at me. Her expression was
inscrutable—I could not guess whether she was glad to see me, or not.
“Victory!” I cried. “Thank God that you are safe!” And I approached
her, a greater gladness in my heart than I had felt since the moment
that I knew the Coldwater must be swept beyond thirty.
There was no answering gladness in her eyes. Instead, she stamped her
little foot in anger.
“Why did it have to be you who saved me!” she exclaimed. “I hate you!”
“Hate me?” I asked. “Why should you hate me, Victory? I do not hate
you. I—I—” What was I about to say? I was very close to her as a great
light broke over me. Why had I never realized it before? The truth
accounted for a great many hitherto inexplicable moods that had claimed
me from time to time since first I had seen Victory.
“Why should I hate you?” she repeated. “Because Snider told me—he told
me that you had promised me to him, but he did not get me. I killed
him, as I should like to kill you!”
“Snider lied!” I cried. And then I seized her and held her in my arms,
and made her listen to me, though she struggled and fought like a young
lioness. “I love you, Victory. You must know that I love you—that I
have always loved you, and that I never could have made so base a
promise.”
She ceased her struggles, just a trifle, but still tried to push me
from her. “You called me a barbarian!” she said.
Ah, so that was it! That still rankled. I crushed her to me.
“You could not love a barbarian,” she went on, but she had ceased to
struggle.
“But I do love a barbarian, Victory!” I cried, “the dearest barbarian
in the world.”
She raised her eyes to mine, and then her smooth, brown arms encircled
my neck and drew my lips down to hers.
“I love you—I have loved you always!” she said, and then she buried her
face upon my shoulder and sobbed. “I have been so unhappy,” she said,
“but I could not die while I thought that you might live.”
As we stood there, momentarily forgetful of all else than our new found
happiness, the ferocity of the bombardment increased until scarce
thirty seconds elapsed between the shells that rained about the palace.
To remain long would be to invite certain death. We could not escape
the way that we had entered the apartment, for not only was the
corridor now choked with debris, but beyond the corridor there were
doubtless many members of the emperorl’s household who would stop us.
Upon the opposite side of the room was another door, and toward this I
led the way. It opened into a third apartment with windows overlooking
an inner court. From one of these windows I surveyed the courtyard.
Apparently it was empty, and the rooms upon the opposite side were
unlighted.
Assisting Victory to the open, I followed, and together we crossed the
court, discovering upon the opposite side a number of wide, wooden