CHAPTER X

A Princess of Mars

by Edgar R. Burroughs

CHAPTER X, A PRINCESS OF MARS by Edgar R. Burroughs
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CHAMPION AND CHIEF


Early the next morning I was astir. Considerable freedom was
allowed me, as Sola had informed me that so long as I did
not attempt to leave the city I was free to go and come as
I pleased. She had warned me, however, against venturing forth
unarmed, as this city, like all other deserted metropolises of
an ancient Martian civilization, was peopled by the great
white apes of my second day's adventure.

In advising me that I must not leave the boundaries of
the city Sola had explained that Woola would prevent this
anyway should I attempt it, and she warned me most urgently
not to arouse his fierce nature by ignoring his warnings
should I venture too close to the forbidden territory. His
nature was such, she said, that he would bring me back into
the city dead or alive should I persist in opposing him;
"preferably dead," she added.

On this morning I had chosen a new street to explore when
suddenly I found myself at the limits of the city. Before
me were low hills pierced by narrow and inviting ravines.
I longed to explore the country before me, and, like the
pioneer stock from which I sprang, to view what the
landscape beyond the encircling hills might disclose
from the summits which shut out my view.

It also occurred to me that this would prove an excellent
opportunity to test the qualities of Woola. I was convinced
that the brute loved me; I had seen more evidences of affection
in him than in any other Martian animal, man or beast,
and I was sure that gratitude for the acts that had twice
saved his life would more than outweigh his loyalty to the
duty imposed upon him by cruel and loveless masters.

As I approached the boundary line Woola ran anxiously
before me, and thrust his body against my legs. His expression
was pleading rather than ferocious, nor did he bare his
great tusks or utter his fearful guttural warnings. Denied
the friendship and companionship of my kind, I had developed
considerable affection for Woola and Sola, for the normal
earthly man must have some outlet for his natural affections,
and so I decided upon an appeal to a like instinct in this
great brute, sure that I would not be disappointed.

I had never petted nor fondled him, but now I sat upon
the ground and putting my arms around his heavy neck I
stroked and coaxed him, talking in my newly acquired
Martian tongue as I would have to my hound at home, as I
would have talked to any other friend among the lower
animals. His response to my manifestation of affection was
remarkable to a degree; he stretched his great mouth to its
full width, baring the entire expanse of his upper rows of
tusks and wrinkling his snout until his great eyes were
almost hidden by the folds of flesh. If you have ever seen a
collie smile you may have some idea of Woola's facial distortion.

He threw himself upon his back and fairly wallowed at
my feet; jumped up and sprang upon me, rolling me upon
the ground by his great weight; then wriggling and squirming
around me like a playful puppy presenting its back for
the petting it craves. I could not resist the ludicrousness
of the spectacle, and holding my sides I rocked back and forth
in the first laughter which had passed my lips in many days;
the first, in fact, since the morning Powell had left camp
when his horse, long unused, had precipitately and unexpectedly
bucked him off headforemost into a pot of frijoles.

My laughter frightened Woola, his antics ceased and he
crawled pitifully toward me, poking his ugly head far into
my lap; and then I remembered what laughter signified on
Mars--torture, suffering, death. Quieting myself, I rubbed
the poor old fellow's head and back, talked to him for a few
minutes, and then in an authoritative tone commanded him
to follow me, and arising started for the hills.

There was no further question of authority between us;
Woola was my devoted slave from that moment hence, and
I his only and undisputed master. My walk to the hills
occupied but a few minutes, and I found nothing of particular
interest to reward me. Numerous brilliantly colored and
strangely formed wild flowers dotted the ravines and from
the summit of the first hill I saw still other hills stretching off
toward the north, and rising, one range above another, until
lost in mountains of quite respectable dimensions; though I
afterward found that only a few peaks on all Mars exceed
four thousand feet in height; the suggestion of magnitude
was merely relative.

My morning's walk had been large with importance to
me for it had resulted in a perfect understanding with Woola,
upon whom Tars Tarkas relied for my safe keeping. I now
knew that while theoretically a prisoner I was virtually free,
and I hastened to regain the city limits before the defection
of Woola could be discovered by his erstwhile masters. The
adventure decided me never again to leave the limits of my
prescribed stamping grounds until I was ready to venture forth
for good and all, as it would certainly result in a curtailment
of my liberties, as well as the probable death of Woola, were we
to be discovered.

On regaining the plaza I had my third glimpse of the
captive girl. She was standing with her guards before the
entrance to the audience chamber, and as I approached she
gave me one haughty glance and turned her back full upon
me. The act was so womanly, so earthly womanly, that
though it stung my pride it also warmed my heart with a
feeling of companionship; it was good to know that someone
else on Mars beside myself had human instincts of a civilized
order, even though the manifestation of them was so painful
and mortifying.

Had a green Martian woman desired to show dislike or contempt
she would, in all likelihood, have done it with a sword
thrust or a movement of her trigger finger; but as their
sentiments are mostly atrophied it would have required a
serious injury to have aroused such passions in them. Sola,
let me add, was an exception; I never saw her perform a cruel
or uncouth act, or fail in uniform kindliness and good
nature. She was indeed, as her fellow Martian had said of her,
an atavism; a dear and precious reversion to a former type
of loved and loving ancestor.

Seeing that the prisoner seemed the center of attraction I
halted to view the proceedings. I had not long to wait
for presently Lorquas Ptomel and his retinue of chieftains
approached the building and, signing the guards to follow with
the prisoner entered the audience chamber. Realizing that I
was a somewhat favored character, and also convinced that
the warriors did not know of my proficiency in their language,
as I had pleaded with Sola to keep this a secret on the
grounds that I did not wish to be forced to talk with the
men until I had perfectly mastered the Martian tongue, I
chanced an attempt to enter the audience chamber and listen
to the proceedings.

The council squatted upon the steps of the rostrum, while
below them stood the prisoner and her two guards. I saw
that one of the women was Sarkoja, and thus understood
how she had been present at the hearing of the preceding
day, the results of which she had reported to the occupants
of our dormitory last night. Her attitude toward the captive
was most harsh and brutal. When she held her, she sunk her
rudimentary nails into the poor girl's flesh, or twisted her
arm in a most painful manner. When it was necessary to
move from one spot to another she either jerked her roughly,
or pushed her headlong before her. She seemed to be venting
upon this poor defenseless creature all the hatred, cruelty,
ferocity, and spite of her nine hundred years, backed by
unguessable ages of fierce and brutal ancestors.

The other woman was less cruel because she was entirely
indifferent; if the prisoner had been left to her alone, and
fortunately she was at night, she would have received no
harsh treatment, nor, by the same token would she have
received any attention at all.

As Lorquas Ptomel raised his eyes to address the prisoner
they fell on me and he turned to Tars Tarkas with a word,
and gesture of impatience. Tars Tarkas made some reply
which I could not catch, but which caused Lorquas Ptomel to
smile; after which they paid no further attention to me.

"What is your name?" asked Lorquas Ptomel, addressing
the prisoner.

"Dejah Thoris, daughter of Mors Kajak of Helium."

"And the nature of your expedition?" he continued.

"It was a purely scientific research party sent out by my
father's father, the Jeddak of Helium, to rechart the air
currents, and to take atmospheric density tests," replied
the fair prisoner, in a low, well-modulated voice.

"We were unprepared for battle," she continued, "as we
were on a peaceful mission, as our banners and the colors of
our craft denoted. The work we were doing was as much in
your interests as in ours, for you know full well that were it
not for our labors and the fruits of our scientific operations
there would not be enough air or water on Mars to support
a single human life. For ages we have maintained the air and
water supply at practically the same point without an
appreciable loss, and we have done this in the face of
the brutal and ignorant interference of your green men.

"Why, oh, why will you not learn to live in amity with
your fellows, must you ever go on down the ages to your
final extinction but little above the plane of the dumb brutes
that serve you! A people without written language, without
art, without homes, without love; the victim of eons of the
horrible community idea. Owning everything in common,
even to your women and children, has resulted in your
owning nothing in common. You hate each other as you hate
all else except yourselves. Come back to the ways of our
common ancestors, come back to the light of kindliness
and fellowship. The way is open to you, you will find the
hands of the red men stretched out to aid you. Together we
may do still more to regenerate our dying planet. The grand-
daughter of the greatest and mightiest of the red jeddaks has
asked you. Will you come?"

Lorquas Ptomel and the warriors sat looking silently and
intently at the young woman for several moments after she
had ceased speaking. What was passing in their minds no
man may know, but that they were moved I truly believe,
and if one man high among them had been strong enough
to rise above custom, that moment would have marked a
new and mighty era for Mars.

I saw Tars Tarkas rise to speak, and on his face was such
an expression as I had never seen upon the countenance of a
green Martian warrior. It bespoke an inward and mighty
battle with self, with heredity, with age-old custom, and
as he opened his mouth to speak, a look almost of benignity,
of kindliness, momentarily lighted up his fierce and terrible
countenance.

What words of moment were to have fallen from his lips
were never spoken, as just then a young warrior, evidently
sensing the trend of thought among the older men, leaped
down from the steps of the rostrum, and striking the frail
captive a powerful blow across the face, which felled her to
the floor, placed his foot upon her prostrate form and turning
toward the assembled council broke into peals of horrid,
mirthless laughter.

For an instant I thought Tars Tarkas would strike him
dead, nor did the aspect of Lorquas Ptomel augur any too
favorably for the brute, but the mood passed, their old selves
reasserted their ascendency, and they smiled. It was portentous
however that they did not laugh aloud, for the brute's act
constituted a side-splitting witticism according to the
ethics which rule green Martian humor.

That I have taken moments to write down a part of what
occurred as that blow fell does not signify that I remained
inactive for any such length of time. I think I must have
sensed something of what was coming, for I realize now that
I was crouched as for a spring as I saw the blow aimed at
her beautiful, upturned, pleading face, and ere the hand
descended I was halfway across the hall.

Scarcely had his hideous laugh rang out but once, when
I was upon him. The brute was twelve feet in height and
armed to the teeth, but I believe that I could have accounted
for the whole roomful in the terrific intensity of my rage.
Springing upward, I struck him full in the face as he turned
at my warning cry and then as he drew his short-sword I
drew mine and sprang up again upon his breast, hooking one
leg over the butt of his pistol and grasping one of his huge
tusks with my left hand while I delivered blow after blow
upon his enormous chest.

He could not use his short-sword to advantage because I
was too close to him, nor could he draw his pistol, which
he attempted to do in direct opposition to Martian custom
which says that you may not fight a fellow warrior in
private combat with any other than the weapon with which you
are attacked. In fact he could do nothing but make a wild
and futile attempt to dislodge me. With all his immense bulk
he was little if any stronger than I, and it was but the matter
of a moment or two before he sank, bleeding and lifeless,
to the floor.

Dejah Thoris had raised herself upon one elbow and was
watching the battle with wide, staring eyes. When I had
regained my feet I raised her in my arms and bore her to
one of the benches at the side of the room.

Again no Martian interfered with me, and tearing a piece
of silk from my cape I endeavored to staunch the flow of
blood from her nostrils. I was soon successful as her
injuries amounted to little more than an ordinary nosebleed,
and when she could speak she placed her hand upon my
arm and looking up into my eyes, said:

"Why did you do it? You who refused me even friendly recognition
in the first hour of my peril! And now you risk your life and
kill one of your companions for my sake. I cannot understand.
What strange manner of man are you, that you consort with the
green men, though your form is that of my race, while your color
is little darker than that of the white ape? Tell me, are you
human, or are you more than human?"

"It is a strange tale," I replied, "too long to attempt to tell
you now, and one which I so much doubt the credibility of myself
that I fear to hope that others will believe it. Suffice it,
for the present, that I am your friend, and, so far as our
captors will permit, your protector and your servant."

"Then you too are a prisoner? But why, then, those arms
and the regalia of a Tharkian chieftain? What is your name?
Where your country?"

"Yes, Dejah Thoris, I too am a prisoner; my name is John
Carter, and I claim Virginia, one of the United States of
America, Earth, as my home; but why I am permitted to
wear arms I do not know, nor was I aware that my regalia
was that of a chieftain."

We were interrupted at this juncture by the approach of one
of the warriors, bearing arms, accouterments and ornaments,
and in a flash one of her questions was answered and a
puzzle cleared up for me. I saw that the body of my dead
antagonist had been stripped, and I read in the menacing
yet respectful attitude of the warrior who had brought me
these trophies of the kill the same demeanor as that evinced
by the other who had brought me my original equipment, and now
for the first time I realized that my blow, on the occasion of
my first battle in the audience chamber had resulted in the
death of my adversary.

The reason for the whole attitude displayed toward me was
now apparent; I had won my spurs, so to speak, and in the
crude justice, which always marks Martian dealings, and which,
among other things, has caused me to call her the planet of
paradoxes, I was accorded the honors due a conqueror;
the trappings and the position of the man I killed.
In truth, I was a Martian chieftain, and this I learned later
was the cause of my great freedom and my toleration in the
audience chamber.

As I had turned to receive the dead warrior's chattels I
had noticed that Tars Tarkas and several others had pushed
forward toward us, and the eyes of the former rested upon
me in a most quizzical manner. Finally he addressed me:

"You speak the tongue of Barsoom quite readily for one
who was deaf and dumb to us a few short days ago. Where
did you learn it, John Carter?"

"You, yourself, are responsible, Tars Tarkas," I replied, "in
that you furnished me with an instructress of remarkable
ability; I have to thank Sola for my learning."

"She has done well," he answered, "but your education in
other respects needs considerable polish. Do you know what
your unprecedented temerity would have cost you had you
failed to kill either of the two chieftains whose metal you
now wear?"

"I presume that that one whom I had failed to kill, would
have killed me," I answered, smiling.

"No, you are wrong. Only in the last extremity of self-defense
would a Martian warrior kill a prisoner; we like to save them
for other purposes," and his face bespoke possibilities that
were not pleasant to dwell upon.

"But one thing can save you now," he continued. "Should
you, in recognition of your remarkable valor, ferocity,
and prowess, be considered by Tal Hajus as worthy of his
service you may be taken into the community and become a
full-fledged Tharkian. Until we reach the headquarters of Tal
Hajus it is the will of Lorquas Ptomel that you be accorded
the respect your acts have earned you. You will be treated by
us as a Tharkian chieftain, but you must not forget that every
chief who ranks you is responsible for your safe delivery to
our mighty and most ferocious ruler. I am done."

"I hear you, Tars Tarkas," I answered. "As you know I
am not of Barsoom; your ways are not my ways, and I can
only act in the future as I have in the past, in accordance
with the dictates of my conscience and guided by the standards
of mine own people. If you will leave me alone I will go
in peace, but if not, let the individual Barsoomians with
whom I must deal either respect my rights as a stranger
among you, or take whatever consequences may befall. Of
one thing let us be sure, whatever may be your ultimate
intentions toward this unfortunate young woman, whoever
would offer her injury or insult in the future must figure on
making a full accounting to me. I understand that you belittle
all sentiments of generosity and kindliness, but I do not,
and I can convince your most doughty warrior that these
characteristics are not incompatible with an ability to fight."

Ordinarily I am not given to long speeches, nor ever before
had I descended to bombast, but I had guessed at the keynote
which would strike an answering chord in the breasts of the
green Martians, nor was I wrong, for my harangue evidently
deeply impressed them, and their attitude toward me
thereafter was still further respectful.

Tars Tarkas himself seemed pleased with my reply, but his
only comment was more or less enigmatical-- "And I think I
know Tal Hajus, Jeddak of Thark."

I now turned my attention to Dejah Thoris, and assisting
her to her feet I turned with her toward the exit, ignoring
her hovering guardian harpies as well as the inquiring
glances of the chieftains. Was I not now a chieftain also!
Well, then, I would assume the responsibilities of one.
They did not molest us, and so Dejah Thoris, Princess of
Helium, and John Carter, gentleman of Virginia, followed
by the faithful Woola, passed through utter silence from the
audience chamber of Lorquas Ptomel, Jed among the Tharks
of Barsoom.