THUVIA, MAID OF MARS(火星姑娘)

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THUVIA, MAID OF MARS

THUVIA, MAID OF

MARS

THUVIA, MAID OF MARS

CHAPTER I

CARTHORIS AND THUVIA

Upon a massive bench of polished ersite beneath the gorgeous

blooms of a giant pimalia a woman sat. Her shapely, sandalled foot tapped

impatiently upon the jewel-strewn walk that wound beneath the stately

sorapus trees across the scarlet sward of the royal gardens of Thuvan Dihn,

Jeddak of Ptarth, as a dark-haired, red- skinned warrior bent low toward

her, whispering heated words close to her ear.

"Ah, Thuvia of Ptarth," he cried, "you are cold even before the fiery

blasts of my consuming love! No harder than your heart, nor colder is the

hard, cold ersite of this thrice happy bench which supports your divine and

fadeless form! Tell me, O Thuvia of Ptarth, that I may still hope--that

though you do not love me now, yet some day, some day, my princess, I-

The girl sprang to her feet with an exclamation of surprise and

displeasure. Her queenly head was poised haughtily upon her smooth red

shoulders. Her dark eyes looked angrily into those of the man.

"You forget yourself, and the customs of Barsoom, Astok," she said.

"I have given you no right thus to address the daughter of Thuvan Dihn,

nor have you won such a right."

The man reached suddenly forth and grasped her by the arm.

"You shall be my princess!" he cried. "By the breast of Issus, thou

shalt, nor shall any other come between Astok, Prince of Dusar, and his

heart's desire. Tell me that there is another, and I shall cut out his foul

heart and fling it to the wild calots of the dead sea-bottoms!"

At touch of the man's hand upon her flesh the girl went pallid beneath

her coppery skin, for the persons of the royal women of the courts of Mars

are held but little less than sacred. The act of Astok, Prince of Dusar, was

profanation. There was no terror in the eyes of Thuvia of Ptarth--only

horror for the thing the man had done and for its possible consequences.

"Release me." Her voice was level--frigid.

THUVIA, MAID OF MARS

The man muttered incoherently and drew her roughly toward him.

"Release me!" she repeated sharply, "or I call the guard, and the Prince

of Dusar knows what that will mean."

Quickly he threw his right arm about her shoulders and strove to draw

her face to his lips. With a little cry she struck him full in the mouth with

the massive bracelets that circled her free arm.

"Calot!" she exclaimed, and then: "The guard! The guard! Hasten

in protection of the Princess of Ptarth!"

In answer to her call a dozen guardsmen came racing across the scarlet

sward, their gleaming long-swords naked in the sun, the metal of their

accoutrements clanking against that of their leathern harness, and in their

throats hoarse shouts of rage at the sight which met their eyes.

But before they had passed half across the royal garden to where Astok

of Dusar still held the struggling girl in his grasp, another figure sprang

from a cluster of dense foliage that half hid a golden fountain close at hand.

A tall, straight youth he was, with black hair and keen grey eyes; broad of

shoulder and narrow of hip; a clean-limbed fighting man. His skin was

but faintly tinged with the copper colour that marks the red men of Mars

from the other races of the dying planet--he was like them, and yet there

was a subtle difference greater even than that which lay in his lighter skin

and his grey eyes.

There was a difference, too, in his movements. He came on in great

leaps that carried him so swiftly over the ground that the speed of the

guardsmen was as nothing by comparison.

Astok still clutched Thuvia's wrist as the young warrior confronted

him. The new-comer wasted no time and he spoke but a single word.

"Calot!" he snapped, and then his clenched fist landed beneath the

other's chin, lifting him high into the air and depositing him in a crumpled

heap within the centre of the pimalia bush beside the ersite bench.

Her champion turned toward the girl. "Kaor, Thuvia of Ptarth!" he

cried. "It seems that fate timed my visit well."

"Kaor, Carthoris of Helium!" the princess returned the young man's

greeting, "and what less could one expect of the son of such a sire?"

THUVIA, MAID OF MARS

He bowed his acknowledgment of the compliment to his father, John

Carter, Warlord of Mars. And then the guardsmen, panting from their

charge, came up just as the Prince of Dusar, bleeding at the mouth, and

with drawn sword, crawled from the entanglement of the pimalia.

Astok would have leaped to mortal combat with the son of Dejah

Thoris, but the guardsmen pressed about him, preventing, though it was

clearly evident that naught would have better pleased Carthoris of Helium.

"But say the word, Thuvia of Ptarth," he begged, "and naught will give

me greater pleasure than meting to this fellow the punishment he has

earned."

"It cannot be, Carthoris," she replied. "Even though he has forfeited

all claim upon my consideration, yet is he the guest of the jeddak, my

father, and to him alone may he account for the unpardonable act he has

committed."

"As you say, Thuvia," replied the Heliumite. "But afterward he shall

account to Carthoris, Prince of Helium, for this affront to the daughter of

my father's friend." As he spoke, though, there burned in his eyes a fire

that proclaimed a nearer, dearer cause for his championship of this

glorious daughter of Barsoom.

The maid's cheek darkened beneath the satin of her transparent skin,

and the eyes of Astok, Prince of Dusar, darkened, too, as he read that

which passed unspoken between the two in the royal gardens of the

jeddak.

"And thou to me," he snapped at Carthoris, answering the young man's

challenge.

The guard still surrounded Astok. It was a difficult position for the

young officer who commanded it. His prisoner was the son of a mighty

jeddak; he was the guest of Thuvan Dihn--until but now an honoured guest

upon whom every royal dignity had been showered. To arrest him forcibly

could mean naught else than war, and yet he had done that which in the

eyes of the Ptarth warrior merited death.

The young man hesitated. He looked toward his princess. She, too,

guessed all that hung upon the action of the coming moment. For many

THUVIA, MAID OF MARS

years Dusar and Ptarth had been at peace with each other. Their great

merchant ships plied back and forth between the larger cities of the two

nations. Even now, far above the gold-shot scarlet dome of the jeddak's

palace, she could see the huge bulk of a giant freighter taking its majestic

way through the thin Barsoomian air toward the west and Dusar.

By a word she might plunge these two mighty nations into a bloody

conflict that would drain them of their bravest blood and their incalculable

riches, leaving them all helpless against the inroads of their envious and

less powerful neighbors, and at last a prey to the savage green hordes of

the dead sea-bottoms.

No sense of fear influenced her decision, for fear is seldom known to

the children of Mars. It was rather a sense of the responsibility that she,

the daughter of their jeddak, felt for the welfare of her father's people.

"I called you, Padwar," she said to the lieutenant of the guard, "to

protect the person of your princess, and to keep the peace that must not be

violated within the royal gardens of the jeddak. That is all. You will

escort me to the palace, and the Prince of Helium will accompany me."

Without another glance in the direction of Astok she turned, and taking

Carthoris' proffered hand, moved slowly toward the massive marble pile

that housed the ruler of Ptarth and his glittering court. On either side

marched a file of guardsmen. Thus Thuvia of Ptarth found a way out of a

dilemma, escaping the necessity of placing her father's royal guest under

forcible restraint, and at the same time separating the two princes, who

otherwise would have been at each other's throat the moment she and the

guard had departed.

Beside the pimalia stood Astok, his dark eyes narrowed to mere slits of

hate beneath his lowering brows as he watched the retreating forms of the

woman who had aroused the fiercest passions of his nature and the man

whom he now believed to be the one who stood between his love and its

consummation.

As they disappeared within the structure Astok shrugged his shoulders,

and with a murmured oath crossed the gardens toward another wing of the

building where he and his retinue were housed.

THUVIA, MAID OF MARS

That night he took formal leave of Thuvan Dihn, and though no

mention was made of the happening within the garden, it was plain to see

through the cold mask of the jeddak's courtesy that only the customs of

royal hospitality restrained him from voicing the contempt he felt for the

Prince of Dusar.

Carthoris was not present at the leave-taking, nor was Thuvia. The

ceremony was as stiff and formal as court etiquette could make it, and

when the last of the Dusarians clambered over the rail of the battleship

that had brought them upon this fateful visit to the court of Ptarth, and the

mighty engine of destruction had risen slowly from the ways of the

landing-stage, a note of relief was apparent in the voice of Thuvan Dihn as

he turned to one of his officers with a word of comment upon a subject

foreign to that which had been uppermost in the minds of all for hours.

But, after all, was it so foreign?

"Inform Prince Sovan," he directed, "that it is our wish that the fleet

which departed for Kaol this morning be recalled to cruise to the west of

Ptarth."

As the warship, bearing Astok back to the court of his father, turned

toward the west, Thuvia of Ptarth, sitting upon the same bench where the

Prince of Dusar had affronted her, watched the twinkling lights of the craft

growing smaller in the distance. Beside her, in the brilliant light of the

nearer moon, sat Carthoris. His eyes were not upon the dim bulk of the

battleship, but on the profile of the girl's upturned face.

"Thuvia," he whispered.

The girl turned her eyes toward his. His hand stole out to find hers,

but she drew her own gently away.

"Thuvia of Ptarth, I love you!" cried the young warrior. "Tell me that

it does not offend."

She shook her head sadly. "The love of Carthoris of Helium," she

said simply, "could be naught but an honour to any woman; but you must

not speak, my friend, of bestowing upon me that which I may not

reciprocate."

The young man got slowly to his feet. His eyes were wide in

THUVIA, MAID OF MARS

astonishment. It never had occurred to the Prince of Helium that Thuvia

of Ptarth might love another.

"But at Kadabra!" he exclaimed. "And later here at your father's

court, what did you do, Thuvia of Ptarth, that might have warned me that

you could not return my love?"

"And what did I do, Carthoris of Helium," she returned, "that might

lead you to believe that I DID return it?"

He paused in thought, and then shook his head. "Nothing, Thuvia, that

is true; yet I could have sworn you loved me. Indeed, you well knew

how near to worship has been my love for you."

"And how might I know it, Carthoris?" she asked innocently. "Did

you ever tell me as much? Ever before have words of love for me fallen

from your lips?"

"But you MUST have known it!" he exclaimed. "I am like my father-

-witless in matters of the heart, and of a poor way with women; yet the

jewels that strew these royal garden paths--the trees, the flowers, the

sward-- all must have read the love that has filled my heart since first my

eyes were made new by imaging your perfect face and form; so how could

you alone have been blind to it?"

"Do the maids of Helium pay court to their men?" asked Thuvia.

"You are playing with me!" exclaimed Carthoris. "Say that you are

but playing, and that after all you love me, Thuvia!"

"I cannot tell you that, Carthoris, for I am promised to another."

Her tone was level, but was there not within it the hint of an infinite

depth of sadness? Who may say?

"Promised to another?" Carthoris scarcely breathed the words. His

face went almost white, and then his head came up as befitted him in

whose veins flowed the blood of the overlord of a world.

"Carthoris of Helium wishes you every happiness with the man of

your choice," he said. "With--" and then he hesitated, waiting for her to

fill in the name.

"Kulan Tith, Jeddak of Kaol," she replied. "My father's friend and

Ptarth's most puissant ally."

THUVIA, MAID OF MARS

The young man looked at her intently for a moment before he spoke

again.

"You love him, Thuvia of Ptarth?" he asked.

"I am promised to him," she replied simply.

He did not press her. "He is of Barsoom's noblest blood and

mightiest fighters," mused Carthoris. "My father's friend and mine--

would that it might have been another!" he muttered almost savagely.

What the girl thought was hidden by the mask of her expression, which

was tinged only by a little shadow of sadness that might have been for

Carthoris, herself, or for them both.

Carthoris of Helium did not ask, though he noted it, for his loyalty to

Kulan Tith was the loyalty of the blood of John Carter of Virginia for a

friend, greater than which could be no loyalty.

He raised a jewel-encrusted bit of the girl's magnificent trappings to

his lips.

"To the honour and happiness of Kulan Tith and the priceless jewel

that has been bestowed upon him," he said, and though his voice was

husky there was the true ring of sincerity in it. "I told you that I loved

you, Thuvia, before I knew that you were promised to another. I may not

tell you it again, but I am glad that you know it, for there is no dishonour

in it either to you or to Kulan Tith or to myself. My love is such that it

may embrace as well Kulan Tith--if you love him." There was almost a

question in the statement.

"I am promised to him," she replied.

Carthoris backed slowly away. He laid one hand upon his heart, the

other upon the pommel of his long-sword.

"These are yours--always," he said. A moment later he had entered

the palace, and was gone from the girl's sight.

Had he returned at once he would have found her prone upon the ersite

bench, her face buried in her arms. Was she weeping? There was none to

see.

Carthoris of Helium had come all unannounced to the court of his

father's friend that day. He had come alone in a small flier, sure of the

THUVIA, MAID OF MARS

same welcome that always awaited him at Ptarth. As there had been no

formality in his coming there was no need of formality in his going.

To Thuvan Dihn he explained that he had been but testing an invention

of his own with which his flier was equipped--a clever improvement of the

ordinary Martian air compass, which, when set for a certain destination,

will remain constantly fixed thereon, making it only necessary to keep a

vessel's prow always in the direction of the compass needle to reach any

given point upon Barsoom by the shortest route.

Carthoris' improvement upon this consisted of an auxiliary device

which steered the craft mechanically in the direction of the compass, and

upon arrival directly over the point for which the compass was set,

brought the craft to a standstill and lowered it, also automatically, to the

ground.

"You readily discern the advantages of this invention," he was saying

to Thuvan Dihn, who had accompanied him to the landing-stage upon the

palace roof to inspect the compass and bid his young friend farewell.

A dozen officers of the court with several body servants were grouped

behind the jeddak and his guest, eager listeners to the conversation--so

eager on the part of one of the servants that he was twice rebuked by a

noble for his forwardness in pushing himself ahead of his betters to view

the intricate mechanism of the wonderful "controlling destination

compass," as the thing was called.

"For example," continued Carthoris, "I have an all- night trip before

me, as to-night. I set the pointer here upon the right-hand dial which

represents the eastern hemisphere of Barsoom, so that the point rests upon

the exact latitude and longitude of Helium. Then I start the engine, roll

up in my sleeping silks and furs, and with lights burning, race through the

air toward Helium, confident that at the appointed hour I shall drop gently

toward the landing-stage upon my own palace, whether I am still asleep or

no."

"Provided," suggested Thuvan Dihn, "you do not chance to collide

with some other night wanderer in the meanwhile."

Carthoris smiled. "No danger of that," he replied. "See here," and he

THUVIA, MAID OF MARS

indicated a device at the right of the destination compass. "This is my

`obstruction evader,' as I call it. This visible device is the switch which

throws the mechanism on or off. The instrument itself is below deck,

geared both to the steering apparatus and the control levers.

"It is quite simple, being nothing more than a radium generator

diffusing radio-activity in all directions to a distance of a hundred yards or

so from the flier. Should this enveloping force be interrupted in any

direction a delicate instrument immediately apprehends the irregularity, at

the same time imparting an impulse to a magnetic device which in turn

actuates the steering mechanism, diverting the bow of the flier away from

the obstacle until the craft's radio-activity sphere is no longer in contact

with the obstruction, then she falls once more into her normal course.

Should the disturbance approach from the rear, as in case of a faster-

moving craft overhauling me, the mechanism actuates the speed control as

well as the steering gear, and the flier shoots ahead and either up or down,

as the oncoming vessel is upon a lower or higher plane than herself.

"In aggravated cases, that is when the obstructions are many, or of

such a nature as to deflect the bow more than forty-five degrees in any

direction, or when the craft has reached its destination and dropped to

within a hundred yards of the ground, the mechanism brings her to a full

stop, at the same time sounding a loud alarm which will instantly awaken

the pilot. You see I have anticipated almost every contingency."

Thuvan Dihn smiled his appreciation of the marvellous device. The

forward servant pushed almost to the flier's side. His eyes were narrowed

to slits.

"All but one," he said.

The nobles looked at him in astonishment, and one of them grasped

the fellow none too gently by the shoulder to push him back to his proper

place. Carthoris raised his hand.

"Wait," he urged. "Let us hear what the man has to say--no creation

of mortal mind is perfect. Perchance he has detected a weakness that it

will be well to know at once. Come, my good fellow, and what may be

the one contingency I have overlooked?"

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