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Page:The Recluse by W Paul Cook.djvu/72

 that statue which he did not fancy in the least.

From the city that night a swift runner entered the hills and from a spot where those in the palace could not see the light a signal fire blinked its message to the North.

And in the North another distant gleam in the hills answered and yet farther into the mysterious plains and deserts of the Gobi, the message sped upon its way.

The next night and a night thereafter the fires glowed bright and dim, over the sand dunes, so dim far away that they could not be seen at all by those near the first signal.

And the fourth night, the runner returned to Shi-kung-su, heavy laden with a chinking bag, his work accomplished.

Before he reached the city gate, a thin jingling of metal accoutrements with now and then a whispered curse as horses stumbled in the dark, made a murmur which seeped down from the hills and poured along the plains toward the summer palace. When the gate had closed behind him, the metallic whisper was very near the palace.

A sleepy guard patrolled the palace grounds; a guard who became awake instantly when an ill-trained horse commenced a whinny not far away. If it had been a full, complete sound the guard might have thought it one of the stabled horses, but it was cut suddenly short and he knew too well what that might mean.

He sprang to the parapet. Yes, it was true! Before the gate, were twenty or more men, bearing a heavy log and coming at a trot.

He seized a mallet and began hammering on the gong by the guard’s quarters.

“Up, bowmen!” he howled, in the intervals of pounding, “Up, spearmen! The Tartars are upon us!”

And then, the log struck the gate, wood whining in complaint and a few bricks fell. Again and again the stunning impact followed and too late, the guard rushed out, not in force but singly; not properly armed, but with what weapons came first to hand; not in armor but clothed only in their night garments; and one by one they dashed into the foe storming through the broken gate, one by one falling before the Tartar’s bows and iron tipped maces.

Arslan and another man, being at the opposite side of the palace on duty as guards at the moment of attack, were the only ones in armor.

A moment of horror, of surprise, of indecision held them, then the other man cried, “Quick! Let us leap down from the Wall, get horses and bring help from the towers. We can trap them all!”

“Do it if you can,” agreed Arslan, “I am for the palace!” and he started at a run for the nearest door.

On this side was the garden and as he ran beneath the low branches of a tree, he collided with something limp and swinging as though a full sack hung there. Beside the dangling object stood a well known shape, dim in the darkness, tying a knot about her throat with trembling fingers.

As she stepped off the stool, he cut through the sash above her head and she fell to the ground. Quickly he cut the other cord and the nurse also dropped and lay as one dead, behind a rose bush.

He unfastened the noose from the girl’s throat.

“There is no merit to be gained in that death, oh Maiden!” he said, grimly.

“It is an honorable death,” exclaimed Su-rah, “Shall a daughter of Chan know the polluting touch of a Tartar?”

“Perhaps there will be no need of it,” said the archer. “Fo Tung has gone for help and if we can hide for a little, we will be rescued.”

“Too late!’ she moaned, “too late! You should have let me die!” and she pointed to the garden wall.

Two short steel tipped horns had risen there while Arslan spoke and now the full face appeared below the hide helmet.

Broad and flat it was, and most indescribably dirty. For a second the Tartar stared down at the couple in the garden and then opened his mouth to shout.

As he did so, an arrow flew and the man’s leer changed to a look of stupid wonder, just before he disappeared, pierced through the throat.

Arslan was not an archer of the guard for nothing.

title: Page:The Recluse by W Paul Cook.djvu/72


text: Author:Lawrence D. Orton

license: Creative Commons - Attribution Share-Alike - https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/

title: Author:Lawrence D. Orton


text:
Page:The Recluse by W Paul Cook.djvu/73

In the palace, men had sold their lives dearly and there would be sorrow in many a Tartar tent for that night’s work.

Before the palace was taken, Ulatai, second in command, fell to rise not again, followed by Bassalor Danek, Bayan and Cogatai, all nobles of the Horde.

But there was many another to take their place and Chan the venerable, Chan the old and very wise, went down at last, knife in hand and his three sons trampled unknowingly upon him in the press.

And singly they followed him to the Halls of Contentment and the House of Chan, whose deeds of fame had been a golden example to men for a thousand years, was now no more.

Freed from any obstacle, Houlagou and his men hurried through the corridors and rooms of the palace, but did not find that for which they sought until they entered the garden.

Even then, the fugitives might have been overlooked in the dim starlight had it not been for the aged nurse, whose throat pained mightily as she recovered consciousness. Her groan turned every head toward the sheltering tree.

An ululation rose then that called all of the attackers to the spot. But as those in the garden advanced, stinging arrows sang across the pool from out of a flowering bush and took their toll of men.

They spread out and fell flat behind any shelter that offered, coaxing the arrows, knowing that the unknown fighter’s supply must be small.

Wriggling along through the bushes and vines, they neared the archer, coming slowly while his arrows lasted, for he could keep them back in spite of the overwhelming numbers for a time. But his stock was few and none returned that he might use again, for Houlougou was certain that the girl he had sworn to take was behind yonder warrior.

Now, no arrows came from the bush and the men came closer. The flowers nodded and shook as Arslan plunged through and hurled himself at the leader.

“Not while I live, oh Tartar!” he shouted and then a mace struck him dumb and senseless and his knife sank only into dirt and grass roots.

“Kill him not,” ordered Houlagou, “he is a bold warrior and we will take him with us.”

Then with a swoop of an arm he captured the second to emerge from the bush, as Su-rah strove to reach the body of Arslan, weeping to behold his bloody head.

“Ho, brothers,” he cried, “here is the maid, our prize. A shining vessel of desire! A very pearl in truth! Is she not worth the fight?”

He swung her around so they could see her frightened face and a chorus of grunting appreciation went up from the onlookers.

Su-rah’s limbs grew weak and she could scarcely stand with the disgrace of his defiling touch.

She felt his dirty hand upon her throat and was conscious of the disagreeable, pungent odor of the unwashed, as she was drawn closer to him. That she, one of the high-born, one of the illustrious line of Chan, should submit to such indignities! The prospect was unthinkable, but there seemed no alternative.

As she resisted weakly, amid the hoarse hooting of the Tartars in the garden and the jeers of those who sat, watching, upon the wall, she lifted her face toward the Dog on the pedestal.

If only her childhood dreams could come true now, when she needed help so much! If only the Fu-dog would come to life and rage among the barbarians!

Merciful Buddha! Was it possible? Could it be?

Her eyes dilated with horror.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the eyeballs of the huge porcelain statue were turning toward her and slowly a rosy flush suffused those cold eye sockets—and there was no sun to cause that ruddy glow!

Then suddenly, wickedly, they glared forth upon her, twin orbs of flame and fury, and the Fu-dog seemed awake, waiting the word to spring.

The mists that herald unconsciousness dropped before her eyes and veiled the garden. Straight from her heart rose a little faltering prayer to the Goddess of Mercy whose chief office is to succor women.

title: Page:The Recluse by W Paul Cook.djvu/73


text:
Page:The Recluse by W Paul Cook.djvu/74

 “Kwan-Yin aid me!” she breathed and pushed the Tartar away with all her strength.

He had not expected the sudden thrust from this easy prey and stepping back, his heels came abruptly against the low stone border about the poppy bed.

Wildly his arms flailed the air while he sought to regain his balance and he brought up hard against the pedestal of the dog.

Events came swiftly then, thru the ever thickening haze upon the garden. Abruptly the ancient and crumbling pedestal was not and the figure of the dog for a split second hung in air, accompanied by an awful grinding roar as though all the hounds of hell were baying down their quarry!

The mist grew thicker, but she knew that the Fu-dog had not failed her; that he had launched into the spring for which he had crouched thru the centuries. And as the derisive yelping on the wall changed to yells of amazement and fear, she tried to smile and collapsed upon the corpse of Arslan.

They would be together now; he had fought a good fight and failed; a heroic failure, fighting to the last, but now another would fight for them; the Fu-dog was awake!

Somewhere, worlds away, the Fu-dog was fighting,—was fighting—fighting—” [sic] and darkness closed down upon her.

All the garden was filled with men, pitying and gentle, some with tears upon their cheeks, while, weeping unrestrainedly the aged nurse knelt by her.

“Alas,” wailed the old woman, “she has mounted the golden dragon and has been carried beyond the stars, through the Gates of Contentment.

“Our lives shall be a long woe and a great sorrow.”

Su-rah stirred and opened her eyes. The keening hurt her head. Why must they torture her?—and then she saw all around her the gaudiness and glitter of the soldiers’ showy painted armor.

Saw too, that the Tartars all were gone and saw that he who bent over her, his face set with pain and stained from an ugly scalp wound—was Arslan!

With a soft coo of delight, she lifted her arms to him and he caught her close.

A moment he held her thus and she was thinking swiftly, planning for the future.

Her father and three brothers were dead; she knew and felt deep sorrow for them. Much honor and many prayers there should be to their memory. But not all was lost. Now she was able to choose a lover for herself. Now she was the only one remaining of the House of Chan!

Now the door was open to happiness!

“I love you,” she whispered softly and with the words passed through the door.

It was most unmaidenly, but Arslan would understand.

They bore her tenderly to a litter, past the bed of poppies and she shuddered at the thing that lay there and turned her head away.

Now the poppies were stained a deeper red, on stem as well as petal and broken shards of green porcelain were thick among the flowers. In the corner of the bed lay the Tartar, with his arm wide flung, but the upper part of his body and head was hidden beneath the fore-quarters of the Fu-dog.

The fangs were driven deep thru the Tartar’s skull and all the cavity of its wide open jaws was an oozing pulp of blood and brains.

She felt his fixed regard upon her when they placed her in the litter and while they were carrying her from the garden. She felt as though she must look back and doing so, just before they reached the gate, she cried out.

They turned, startled, to look where her pointing finger gestured.

At the angle in which she was staring a smear of Tartar blood upon the dog’s head appeared as though his eye had slowly closed, but the others had not seen, nor could they see, the seeming wink.

title: Page:The Recluse by W Paul Cook.djvu/74


text: The Recluse (Cook)/The Green Porcelain Dog


text:
Page:The Nibelungenlied - tr. Shumway - 1909.pdf/95

Rh of Netherland did love his sister, albeit he had never seen her, whose comeliness men praised above all maids. Then spake the knight Ortwin to the king: “Would ye have full honor at your feast, so should ye let be seen the charming maids, who live in such high honors here in Burgundy. What were the joy of man, what else could give him pleasure, but pretty maids and noble dames? Pray let your sister go forth before the guests.” To the joy of many a hero was this counsel given.

“This will I gladly do,” spake then the king, and all who heard it were merry at the thought. Then bade he say to the Lady Uta and her comely daughter, that with their maidens they should come to court. From the presses they took fair raiment and whatso of rich attire was laid away. Of rings and ribbons, too, enow they had. Thus each stately maiden decked herself with zeal. Full many a youthful knight upon that day was of the mind that he was so fair to look upon for ladies, that he would not exchange this chance for the lands of any mighty king. Gladly they gazed on those whom till now they had not known. Then bade the mighty king full a hundred of his men, who were his kin and hers, escort his sister and serve her thus. These were the court retainers of the Burgundian land and carried swords in hand. Soon one saw the noble Uta coming with her child. Full hundred or more fair ladies had she taken for her train, who wore rich robes. Likewise there followed her daughter many a stately maid. When from out a bower men saw them come, there rose a mighty press of knights who had the hope, if that might be, to gaze with joy upon the


text: File:Eden Paul and Cedar Paul - Communism (1921).pdf


text:
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38 noble maid. Now came she forth, the lovely fair, as doth the red of dawn from out the lowering clouds. He then was reft of many woes who bore her in his heart so long a time, when he saw the lovely maid stand forth so glorious. How shone full many a precious stone upon her robes! In lovely wise her rose-red hue appeared. Whatever one might wish, he could not but confess that never in the world had he beheld a fairer maid. As the radiant moon, whose sheen is thrown so brightly on the clouds, doth stand before the stars, so stood she now before full many a stately dame. Therefore higher rose the spirits of the comely knights. Richly appareled chamberlains marched on in front, while the high-mettled warriors forsooth must press where they might see the lovely maid. At this Lord Siegfried felt both joy and dole. To himself he thought: “How could that chance, that I should love thee? That is a foolish dream. But if I now must lose thee, then were I better dead.” At thought of this his color came and went. There stood the son of Siegmund in such dainty grace, as he were limned on parchment by skillful master’s art. Indeed ’twas said of him that never had so fair a knight been seen. The escort of the ladies now bade everywhere give way and many a man obeyed. These high-born hearts rejoiced full many a wight, as thus so many a noble dame appeared in courtly bearing.

Then spake Lord Gernot of Burgundy: “Dear brother Gunther, him who offered service in such kindly wise, ye should in like manner requite before these knights; nor shall I ever rue this counsel. Bid Siegfried now approach my sister, that the maid may greet