Jan of the Jungle Read online

"When it pleases me," replied Jan defiantly.

  The fellow grinned.

  "It will do you no good to be surly with me," he said. "I am only here to help you. The games will start soon, and if you have the intelligence to listen and heed, so much the better for you."

  "The games!" exclaimed Jan.

  Then he remembered what Koh had said. If they were captured they would probably be sentenced to the games-to battle in the arena with men and monsters, usually against great odds. "Is Prince Koh here?" he asked.

  "The prince is in the section with the other prisoners from Temukan," was the reply. "But heed me now, for I may not spend much time with you." He unrolled a scroll and glanced at it.

  "You have been sentenced to stand trial by combat, first with a man, second with a bird, and third with a beast. If you kill the man, that will of course save your life. But if you subdue him without killing him, he will become your slave. If you kill or overcome the bird, you will have the right to ask and be granted a boon by the Emperor. And if you overcome or kill the beast, you will be granted your life and freedom.

  "In case you won all three fights, which has never been done, you would go and stand before the golden pavilion in the south, where the Emperor and Empress will be enthroned. You would raise your hand in salute, thus"-raising his right hand with the palm forward-"whereupon the Emperor would give you your freedom."

  Examining the scroll once more, the man passed on to the next cage-the one occupied by the bearded white savage.

  "What about you, wild one? Can you talk?" he asked.

  The bearded man looked at him blankly. Then he began a series of guttural grunts and barks very much like the language of the chimpanzees.

  "Ha! So you speak like the hairy ones. Well, no man can understand such noises, so I cannot instruct you."

  "I can tell you what he says," volunteered Jan. "He asks what you want. Shall I interpret for you?"

  "No use," said the yellow-clad one. "He would not have the intelligence to understand."

  As the sun approached noon, the attitude of the multitude of spectators in the amphitheater grew tense. Already Samsu, High Priest of Set, had taken his place on the north. He was surrounded by his black-clothed nobles with their ladies, black-armored guards, and black-robed priests.

  The seat of honor on the west was occupied by Teta, High Priest of Asar. His impressive title and name were Neter Ka Aser, Teta, Sa Re, or Holy Soul of Isiris, Son of the Sun. Like Samsu, he was a cousin of the Emperor. Surrounding Teta were his white-cloaked nobles and their families, white-armored guards, and white-robed priests.

  In the seat of honor on the east side sat Pilatre, High Priestess of Aset. Her title-Neter Urt en Aset, Pilatre, Sat Remeant Divine Great Lady of Isis, Pilatre, Daughter of the Sun. She was Teta's daughter. Pilatre was attired in light blue, and her fierce Amazon guards wore armor lacquered a cerulean shade, while her ladies and her comely vestal virgins wore diaphanous garments of the same azure tint.

  The general assembly was a motley jumble of color. Each class dressed according to its trade, profession or occupation, so far as cut and quality of garments went, but with no restrictions as to color, except that no person not definitely allied with one of the four great religious orders might be completely clad in the color of that order. Color combinations of every kind were permissible, and were used to such an extent that a kaleidoscopic effect was produced wherever the people congregated.

  Vendors of sweetmeats, nuts, fruits and chocolatl, a beverage made from a mixture of chocolate and honey, moved through the crowds, noisily crying their wares. Hawkers of cheap jewelry, gewgaws, trinkets and charms scrambled from tier to tier, shouting the merits of their merchandise. Others sold scrolls of thin papyrus on which a program of the day's events was inscribed in curious hieroglyphic characters.

  But the bedlam of sound was suddenly hushed as there came a blare of trumpets from the south. Then, from beneath the stand supporting the golden pavilion, a gold-armored herald dashed out into the arena, mounted on a fierce three-horned steed.

  "The Emperor and Empress come!" he cried. "Salute your rulers!"

  In an instant, every man, woman and child, from high priest and great noble down to the lowliest slave, bowed the knee. Slowly, majestically, the royal couple came through the arched doorway beside the great golden throne. With quiet dignity they took their seats.

  A great cry went up from the crowd:

  "To Mena and Nefertre! Life! Strength! Health!"

  Having paid this tribute to their exalted rulers, the people resumed their seats.

  Surrounded by his gold-armored warriors, his nobles and their ladies, and the yellow-robed priests of Re, Mena watched a small sundial on a pedestal before him. It was the custom to begin the games just as the sun reached the meridian, in order that Re, the Sun God, might look auspiciously down upon them from his great central throne in the heavens.

  When the shadow on the dial pointed directly north, Mena raised his scepter. There was a clash of cymbals, a roll of drums, and a blare of trumpets. The games were officially opened.

  A mounted herald dashed into the arena and announced:

  "His Imperial Majesty, Mena, Son of Re, has commanded that the first event offered for your entertainment today shall be the triple trial for life of the fierce young wild man known as Jan of the Jungle.

  "As his life is thrice forfeit, so thrice must he defend it. First was it forfeit to Set, when he blinded the Sebek and escaped from the temple. For this offense he shall do battle with a man. Second, his life is forfeit to the State, as he slew one of her soldiers. For this offense, if he survive the first, he shall do battle with a bird.

  "Third, his life is forfeit to the great god Re, because he entered by force the habitation of his High Priest, the Imperial Palace. For this offense, if he survive the other two ordeals, he shall fight a beast. It is the decree of the Emperor that if he survive all three, then will he have earned life and freedom."

  Standing with face pressed against the bars of his cell, Jan listened to the announcement of the herald. He saw the riders disappear through the gate beneath the imperial throne. Then the door in the front of his cell was raised. The end of a long pole prodded him in the back, and a gruff voice called, "Out with you!"

  With a snarl, Jan turned to seize the pole, but it was snatched away. The attendant who held it-behind the bars then dropped the pole and took up a long trident.

  Jan saw that sooner or later he must enter the arena. As well do it peacefully as to remain bore and receive wounds that might cripple him. He walked out, and the door clanged into place behind him.

  For a moment he stood there undecided where to go or what to do. He had heard it ordained that he must fight a man, yet he was alone in the arena. Perplexed, he started to walk across the white sand. He had reached a point opposite the golden throne of Mena when he heard a clang behind him. Turning, he saw a long-bearded, naked man coming toward him. It was the wild-looking white man who had been confined in the cell next to his.

  The man walked forward into the arena, apparently as much at sea as Jan about what he was supposed to do. The youth waited until he came up.

  "What do they want us to do?" barked the other in a queer man-ape language.

  "To fight, I believe," replied Jan in the same guttural tongue.

  At this moment, a gold-armored rider dashed through the gate beneath the throne. Riding up between the two, he threw a heavy knotted club at the feet of each. Then he withdrew.

  "Ah, this is better!" exclaimed the bearded man, catching up his club. "We will not have to fight with teeth and nails."

  Jan picked up his own club. Then he warily watched his opponent, who was coming toward him, the club held high over his head, as if he would crush Jan to earth with one blow.

  The youth stood his ground. He did not even raise his own weapon. But when the heavy club descended with terrific force, Jan was not there. With cat-like quickness he had leaped lightly to one side. As
the bludgeon of his opponent thudded to the sand where he had stood a moment before Jan swung his own weapon.

  Had it landed squarely it would have crushed the skull like an eggshell. The blow, however, was only a glancing one. But it struck with enough force to tear the scalp of the bearded man and knock him unconscious. He collapsed in a heap.

  It had been ridiculously easy. Jan stood there, leaning on his club, and gazing at his fallen foe. Two armored riders dashed out. One reined his steed to a halt, dismounted, and threw the limp and unconscious body over his mount's back in front of the saddle. The other rider handed Jan a long spear. Then both withdrew.

  Over at his left, Jan heard the clang of a gate. He looked, and gasped in surprise and awe at sight of the weird and terrifying monstrosity that was trotting toward him on two legs.

  It was a bird fully eight feet tall, with a crest on its immense head like that of a kingfisher. Its great, eagle-like beak was large enough and strong enough to pluck off the head of a man at a single snap, and swallow it like a cherry. Its legs, longer and stronger than those of a full-grown horse, terminated in immense, sharp clutching talons.

  There had been a picture of this bird of prey standing over its kill in one of Ramona's books. It was called a brontornis, or thunder bird and like many of the other strange creatures he had met within this valley, was supposed to be extinct.

  As the immense bird drew near, it cocked its head to one side for a moment as if deciding whether or not Jan would be worth while as a food morsel, considering the risk. It must have made an abrupt decision that he was, for it suddenly spread its short, stubby wings and charged.

  Jan extended his spear point, and braced his feet to meet the charge, aiming for the center of the huge, feathery breast.

  It was almost upon him, the spear not an inch from its breast, when it suddenly swooped, arched its neck, and snapped downward, seizing the shaft of the weapon in its powerful beak.

  Taken completely by surprise, Jan was swept off his feet as the feathered giant gave a quick jerk backward in an effort to pluck the spear from his grasp. He hung on, and the bird, after swinging him far around to the right, suddenly flung its head the other way.

  A cry went up from the breathlessly watching crowd as the shaft snapped off and Jan, holding the broken butt, was thrown to the ground.

  Dropping the spearhead, the bird leaped for the fallen Jan. Before he could move, it had pinned him beneath one immense foot, its clutching talons embedded in his left, shoulder and arm. Then it threw back its head and uttered a loud ringing cry that momentarily drowned the clamor of the excited onlookers-like a cock crowing over a vanquished rival, but with a voice more nearly resembling that of a lion.

  Lying beneath the terrific weight of the feathered giant, with blood gushing from his shoulder and arm where the cruel talons were embedded, Jan struggled desperately to arise, and futilely beat the bird with his slender spear shaft.

  Having voiced its cry of victory, the brontornis leisurely bent over to devour its struggling prey. Jan saw the immense head coming down, straight for his face, the powerful hooked beak opened wide-and did the only thing left for him to do. He thrust the splintered end of his spear shaft between the gaping mandible and down the throat.

  With a peculiar sound which in a smaller bird might have been a squawk, but coming from this throat was more like a strangled roar, the monster jerked his head up and shook it, trying to dislodge the shaft. But Jan had thrust with all his might, and the splintered end was tightly lodged.

  After several futile shakes the bird tried, first with one foot, then the other, to claw the stick from its throat, its prey momentarily forgotten. But when the second foot lifted, Jan was free, and quick to take advantage of his freedom.

  Leaping to his feet, he ran to where his heavy club lay. Picking it up, he returned, and swung it with all his strength against the shin of the leg on which the monster was standing. Under the force of that blow the bone shattered like matchwood, and the feathered giant toppled over.

  It was up in an instant, however, on its good leg. Jan swung his club again, and the bird slumped to the ground, flapping its useless stubs of wings and squawking thunderously-the spear shaft still protruding from its throat.

  Then Jan directed blow after blow at the huge, crested head. Twice that head lolled in the sand as if the monster was quite dead, and twice it was reared again, bruised arid bloody, so tenacious of life was this creature. But the third time it sank, never to rise again.

  While the onlookers roared their approval, Jan threw down his club and walked over before the golden throne. It was the first time he had had a good look at the Emperor and Empress; and he was surprised. Somehow he had expected Mena to be old and hideous like the High Priest, Samsu. He was astonished, therefore, to see a handsome, smooth-shaved, athletic-looking man, not yet forty. His wife, Nefertre, was not only quite young-looking, but beautiful. She reminded Jan of Ramona, as if she might indeed have been an elder sister or her mother.

  The Emperor stood up.

  "You have earned a reward, Jan of the jungle;" he said, not unkindly. "Name it."

  "I ask that the prisoner, Prince Koh of Temukan, be freed and sent back unharmed to his father with a suitable escort," said Jan.

  The Emperor looked astonished.

  "Prince Koh has been condemned to the games," he said. "He is to appear in the next event. I cannot-"

  He did not finish his sentence, for the Empress had suddenly reached over, laid her hand on his arm, and said something to him in a low voice. Jan could not hear what she said, but he surmised that she was interceding for him, as she gave him a little friendly smile. At first Mena shook his head firmly, but gradually, as his beautiful wife talked to him he seemed to relent.

  "Very well, Jan of the jungle," he said. "Your request is granted." He turned to the master of ceremonies. "Go on with the next event."

  Through one of the numerous gates beneath the tiers of seats lumbered a great hairy beast with long, curling tusks. A uniformed trainer rode on its neck, and an attendant followed, carrying a sharp, three-pronged hook at the end of a heavy chain, trailing from a collar around the great beast's neck.

  At first Jan thought he was going to have to fight this monster, a mighty bull mastodon, but he breathed easier when it passed him unnoticed, and stopped near the carcass of the bird. The man holding the hook jabbed a prong into the feathery body, the trainer shouted a command, and the great prehistoric beast of burden moved away, dragging the remains of the thunder bird with ease.

  Scarcely had the carcass of the feathered giant disappeared when a gold-armored rider galloped out of the gate beneath the throne. He handed Jan a longbow, a quiver of arrows, and a short sword with scabbard and belt. Jan buckled the sword belt around his waist and slung the quiver by its strap beneath his left arm so the feathered ends of the arrows could be reached quickly, and wondered what manner of monster he was doomed to fight this time.

  He had not long to wait, for a gate clanged over at his right, and there stalked into the arena the most powerful and ferocious of beats-a giant saber-toothed tiger.

  CHAPTER XXV. RAKING CLAWS

  STANDING in the center of the arena, Jan felt quite small and insignificant in the presence of the mighty carnivore that was stalking majestically toward him. He realized that the chances were all against him, jungle champion though he was, for winning a battle with a saber-toothed tiger. He was in greater danger than he had ever been before.

  He fitted an arrow to the bowstring and waited. A shaft launched from a distance would only infuriate the brute and hasten its charge. But should the cat continue its slow, majestic pace, he might be able to send an arrow through an eye into the brain from a distance of fifty feet or so.

  No sound came from the myriad onlookers in the seats above. They were watching silently, breathlessly, to see how the contestant would play this extremely dangerous game. It promised almost certain death.

  Seated on the lowest tier be
fore the throne were two archers, whose duty it was to see that animals which did not show a fighting spirit in the arena were goaded to greater ferocity. For this purpose they had longbows, and arrows with barbed heads, backed by cross pieces that prevented their piercing beyond a depth of two inches. A few of these barbed arrows clinging to its sides and flank usually put any beast in a fighting humor.

  One of the archers, observing that the advancing tiger did not appear any more ferocious than a house cat confronted by a dish of milk, fitted a barbed arrow to the string, and nudged his companion.

  "The youth is waiting for a close, careful shot," he said, "hoping it will be deadly. Watch me spoil his plans." He drew the arrow back to his ear, took deliberate aim, and let fly.

  At the twang of the bowstring the feline looked up curiously. Then, as the cruel barb suddenly stung its shoulder, it gave vent to a roar of rage and charged, not at Jan in the center of the arena, but straight for the archer who had launched the arrow.

  It was fully fifteen feet from the floor of the arena to the lowest tier, but the tiger made it in a single graceful leap. Before the astonished and horrified archer could draw his sword, the great cat was upon him. A single crunch of the powerful jaws crushed his head to bloody pulp.

  All this took place in a few seconds, but during that brief time Jan had not been idle. As the great beast launched itself into the air, he sent an arrow into its side. By the time it had slain the archer he had sent a second arrow after the first.

  Then he saw the monster knocking armored soldiers right and left with sledge-hammer blows from its powerful front paws as it made straight for the golden throne. There were cries of horror from the spectators-shrieks of terror from the ladies who sat with the nobles on each side of the throne.

  The Emperor stood up and drew his sword. The Empress turned deathly pale, but stood her ground. There was but a thin line of soldiers between the monster and the throne.

  Jan cared nothing for the archers and the soldiers. He cared nothing for the fate of the Emperor. All these were his enemies. But the Empress had smiled at him, with a smile that reminded him of Ramona. And she had interceded with her husband for him. She was his friend; and she was in deadly peril.