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Chapter 15 · Tarzan and the Lost Empire

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  Chapter fifteen of Tarzan and the Lost Empire by Edgar Rice Burroughs. This LibriVox
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  recording is in the public domain. Tarzan and the Lost Empire, Chapter fifteen.
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  Bloody days followed restless nights in comfortless cells, where lice and rats joined
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  forces to banish rest When the games began, there had been twelve inmates in
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  the cell occupied by Tarzan, but now three empty rings dangled against the stone
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  wall, and each day they wondered whose turn was next. The others did
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  not reproach Tarzan because of his failure to free them, since they had never
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  taken his optimism seriously. They could not conceive of contestants escaping from the arena
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  during the games. It simply was not done, and that was all there
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  was to it. It never had been done, and it never would be.
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  We know you meant well, said Praclarus, But we know better than
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  you. The conditions have not been right as yet, said Tarzan. But
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  if what I have been told of the games is true, the time will
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  come. What time could be propitious? Asked Hasta, while more than half
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  of Caesar's legionaries pack the colosseum. There should be a time, Tarzan reminded
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  him. When all the victorious contestants are in the arena together, then we
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  shall rush Caesar's loage and drag him into the arena, with Sublatas as a
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  hostage. We may demand a hearing and get it. I venture to say
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  that they will give us our liberty in return for Caesar. But how can
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  we enter Caesar's loage, demanded Metellus. In an instant we may form steps
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  with living men stooping while others step upon their backs as soldiers scale a wall.
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  Perhaps some of us will be killed, but enough we'll succeed to see
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  Caesar and drag him to the sands. I wish you luck, said Proclaras,
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  And by Jupiter, I believe that you will succeed. I only wish
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  that I might be with you. You will not accompany us, demanded Tarzan.
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  How can I I shall be locked in this cell? Is it not
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  evident that they do not intend to enter me in the contests. They are
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  reserving me for some other fate. The jailer has told me that my name
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  appears in no event. But we must find a way to take you with
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  us, said Tarzan. There is no way, said Proclaras, shaking his
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  head sadly. Wait, said Tarzan. You commanded the Colosseum guards, did
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  you not, yes, replied Proclaras. And you had the keys to the
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  cells, asked the ape man, Yes, replied Proclaras, And to the
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  manacles as well. Where are they, asked Tarzan. But no, that
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  will not do. They must have taken them from you when they arrested you.
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  No they did not, said Proclarus. As a matter of fact,
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  I did not have them with me when I dressed for the banquet that night.
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  I left them in my room. But perhaps they sent for them.
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  Yes, they sent for them, but they did not find them. The
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  jailer asked me about them the day after I was arrested, but I told
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  him that the soldiers took them from me. I told him that because I
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  had hidden them in a secret place where I keep my valuables, I knew
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  that if I told them where they were, they would take not only the
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  keys, but my valuables as well. Good, exclaimed the ape man with
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  the keys. Our problem is solved. But how are you going to get
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  them? Demanded Proclarus, with a rueful smile. I do not know,
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  said Tarzan. All I know is that we must have the keys. We
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  know too that we should have our liberty, said Hasta. But no,
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  it does not make us free. Their conversation was interrupted by the approach of
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  soldiers along the corridor. Presently a detachment of the palace guard halted outside their
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  cell. The jailer unlocked the door, and a man entered, with two
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  torch bearers behind him. It was Fastest. He looked around the cell.
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  Where is Priclarus, he demanded, and then, ah, there you are.
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  Priclarus did not reply. Stand up, slave, ordered Fastus arrogantly.
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  Stand up, all of you. How dare you sit at the presence of
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  a Caesar? He exclaimed. Swine is a better title for such as you,
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  taunted Priclarus. Drag them up, beat them with your pikes, cried
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  Fastest to the soldiers outside the doorway. The commander of the Colisseum guard,
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  who stood just behind Fastus, blocked the doorway. Stand back, he said
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  to the legionaries. No one gives orders here except Caesar and myself, and
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  you are not Caesar yet Fastus, I shall be one day, snapped the
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  prince, and it will be a sad day for you, it will be
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  a sad day for all. Castra Sanguinarius replied the officer. You said that
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  you wish to speak to Perclarus. Say what you have to say, and
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  be gone. Not even Caesar's son may interfere with my charges. Fastus trembled
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  with anger, but he knew that he was powerless. The commander of the
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  guard spoke with the authority of the emperor, whom he represented. He turned
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  upon Proclarus. I came to invite my good friend Maximus Proclaars to my wedding,
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  he announced with a sneer. He waited, but Proclaarus made no reply.
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  You do not seem duly impressed, Proclarus, continued the prince. You
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  do not ask who is to be the happy bride? Do you not wish
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  to know who will be the next Empress? And Hestra Sanguinarius, even though
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  you may not live to see her upon the throne beside Caesar. The heart
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  of Maximus Proclarus stood still. For now he knew why Fastus had come to
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  the dungeon cell, but he gave no sign of what was passing within his
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  breast, but remained seated in silence upon the hard floor, his back against
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  the cold wall. You do not ask me whom I am to wed nor
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  when continued Fastus, but I shall tell you you shall be interested. Delector,
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  the daughter of Dion Splendidus, will have none of a trader and a
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  felon. She aspires to share the purple with a caesar. In the evening
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  following the last day of the Games, Delecta and Fastus are to be married
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  in the throne room of the palace. Gloating, Fastest waited to know the
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  result of his announcement. But if he had looked to surprise Maximus Proclaius into
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  an exhibition of chagrin, he failed, for the young patrician ignored him so
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  completely that Fastus might not have been in the cell at all, for all
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  the attention that the other paid to him. Maximus Proclarus turned and spoke casually
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  to Metellus, and the quiet affront aroused the mounting anger of Fastus to such
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  an extent that he lost what little control he had of himself. Stepping quickly
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  forward, he stooped and slapped Proclarus in the face, and then spat upon
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  him. But in doing so he had come too close to Tarzan, and
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  the ape man reached out and seized him by the ankle, dragging him to
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  the floor. Fastest screamed to command to his soldiers. He sought to draw
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  his dagger or his sword, but Tarzan took them from him and hurled the
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  prince into the arms of the legionaries. Whould rush past the commander of the
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  Colosseum guard and entered the cell. Get out now, Fastus, said the
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  latter. You have caused enough trouble here already I shall get you for this,
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  hissed the prince. All of you swept the inmates of the cell with
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  an angry, menacing glance. Long after they had gone, Cassius Hasta continued
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  to chuckle. Caesar, he exclaimed swine. As the prisoners discussed the discomfiture
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  of Fastus and sought to prophesy what might come of it, they saw wavering
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  light reflected from Afar in the corridor before their cell. We are to have
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  more guests, said Metellus. Perhaps Fastus is returning to spit on Tarzan,
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  suggested Cassius Hasta, and they all laughed. The light was advancing along the
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  corridor, but it was not accompanied by the tramp of soldier's feet. Whoever
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  comes comes silently and alone, said Maximus Proclarus. Then it is not Fastus,
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  said Hasta. But it might be an assassin set by him, suggested
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  Proclarus. We shall be ready for him, said Tarzan. A moment later,
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  there appeared beyond the grating of the cell door the commander of the Colisseum
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  guards, who had accompanied Fastus, and who had stood between the prince and
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  the prisoner, Appius Plosus, exclaimed Maximus Proclarus. He has no assassin,
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  my friends, I am not the assassin of your body, Proclarus, said
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  Aplosus. But I am indeed the assassin of your happiness. What do you
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  mean, my friend, demanded Proclarus, in his anger. Fastus told me
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  more than he told you. He told you what, asked Proclarus. He
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  told me that Delecta had consented to become his wife only in the hope of
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  saving her father and mother, and you, Proclarus and your mother, Festivitus.
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  To call him swine is to insult the swine, said Proclarus. Take
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  word to her, Aplosus, that I would rather die than to see her
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  wed to Fastus. She knows that my friend, said the officer. But
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  she thinks also of her father and her mother and yours. Praclarus's chin dropped
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  upon his chest. I had forgotten that, he moaned. Oh, there
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  must be some way to stop it. He is the son of Caesar,
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  Aplosis, reminded him. And the time is short. I know it,
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  I know it, cried Proclarus. But it is too hideous. It cannot
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  be. This officer is your friend, Praclarus, asked Tarzan, indicating Appias
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  Aplosis. Yes, said Proclarus. You would trust him, fully, demanded
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  the ape man. With my life and my honor, said Priclarus. Tell
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  him where your keys are, and let him fetch them, said the ape
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  man. Praclarus brightened instantly. I had not thought of that, he cried.
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  But no, his life would be in jeopardy. It already is,
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  said Aplosis. Fastest. Will never forget or forgive what I said to night
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  you, Proclarus, know that I am already doomed. What keys do you
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  want? Where are they? I will fetch them, perhaps not when you
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  know what they are, said Proclarus. I can guess, replied Appius Aplosis.
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  You have been in my apartments, often Aplosis. The other nodded affirmatively.
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  You recall the shelves near the window where my books lie. Yes,
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  the back of the third shelf slides to one side, and behind it,
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  in the wall you will find the keys. Good, Proclarus, you shall
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  have them, said the officer. The others watched the diminishing light as appia
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  as Aplosis departed along the corridor beneath the colosseum. The last day of the
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  games had come. The bloodthirsty populace had gathered once more, as eager and
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  enthusiastic, as though they are about to expect a new and unfamiliar thrill.
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  Their appetites swept as clean of the memories of the past week as were the
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  fresh sands of the arena, of the brown stains of yesterday. For the
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  last time, the inmates of the cell were taken to enclosures nearer to the
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  entrance to the arena. They had fared better, perhaps than others, for
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  of the twelve rings only four were empty. Maximus Proclarus alone was left behind.
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  Goodbye, he said, Those of you who survived the day shall be
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  free. We shall not see one another again. Good Luck to you,
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  and may the gods give strength and skill to your arms. That is all
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  that I can ask of them, For not even the gods could give you
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  more courage than you already possess. Aplosis has failed us, said Hasta.
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  Tarzan looked troubled. If only you were coming out with us, Proclarus,
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  we should not then need the keys. From within the encline closure, where
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  they were confined, Tarzan and his companions could hear the sounds of combat and
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  the groans and hoots and applause of the audience, but they could not see
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  the floor of the arena. It was a very large room with heavily barred
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  windows and a door. Sometimes two men, sometimes four, sometimes six would
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  go out together, but only one or two or three returned. The effect
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  upon the nerves of those who remained uncalled was maddening. For some, the
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  suspense became almost unendurable. Two attempted suicide, and others tried to pick quarrels
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  with their fellow prisoners. But there were many guards within the room, and
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  the prisoners were unarmed, their weapons being issued to them only after they had
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  quit the enclosure and were about to enter the arena. The afternoon was drawing
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  to a close. Buttellus had fought with the gladiator, both in full armor.
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  Hasta and Tarzan had heard the excited cries of the populace. They had
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  heard cheer after cheer, which indicated that each man was putting up a skillful
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  and courageous fight. There was an instant of silence, and then the loud
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  cries of hobbit, hobbit, It is over, whispered Cassius has to Tarzan
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  made no reply. He had grown to like these men, for he had
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  found them brave and simple and loyal. And he too was inwardly moved by
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  the suspense that must be endured until one or the other returned to the enclosure.
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  But he gave no outward sign of his perturbation. And while Cassius has
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  to pace nervously to and fro, Tarzan of the Apes stood silently with folded
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  arms, watching the door. After a while, it opened and Cecilius Metellus
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  crossed the threshold. Cassius has to uttered a cry of relief and sprang forward
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  to embrace his friend again. The door swung open, and a minor official
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  entered. Come, he cried, all of you, it is the last
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  event outside the enclosure. Each man was given a sword, dagger, pike,
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  shield and a hempen net, and one by one, as they were
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  thus equipped, they were sent into the arena. All the survivors of the
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  week of combat were there, one hundred of them. They were divided into
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  two equal parties, and red ribbons were fastened to the shoulders of one party,
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  and white ribbons to the shoulders of the other. Tarzan was among the
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  Reds, as were Hasta, Mattellus, Lukidi, m Pingu and Oganyu.
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  What are we supposed to do, asked Tarzan of Hasta. The Reds will
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  fight against the whites until all the Reds are killed, or all the whites.
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  They should see blood enough to suit them now, said Tarzan. They
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  can never get enough of it, replied Metellus. The two parties marched to
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  the opposite end of the arena and received their instructions from the prefect in charge
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  of the games, and then they were formed, the Reds upon one side
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  of the arena, the Whites upon the other. Trumpets sounded and the armed
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  men advanced toward one another. Tarzan smiled to himself as he considered the weapons
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  with which he was supposed to defend himself. The pike he was sure of,
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  for the Waziri are great spearmen, and Tarzan excelled even among them,
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  And with the dagger he felt at home. So long had the hunting knife
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  of his father been his only weapon of protection. But the Spanish sword,
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  he felt would probably prove more of a liability than an asset, while the
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  net in his hands could be nothing more than a sorry joke. He would
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  like to have thrown his shield aside, for he did not like shields,
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  considering them as a rule useless encumbrances. But he used them before when the
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  Waziri had fought other native tribes, and knowing that they were constructed as a
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  defense against the very weapons that his opponents were using, he retained his and
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  advanced with the others toward the white line. He had determined that their only
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  hope lay in account for as many of their adversaries in the first clash of
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  arms as was possible, and this word he had passed down the line,
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  with the further admonition that the instant that a man had disposed of an antagonist,
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  he turned immediately to help the red nearest him, or the one most
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  sorely beset. As the two lines drew closer, each man selected the opponent
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  opposite him, and Tarzan found that he faced a black warrior from the outer
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  villages. They came closer, Some of the men more eager, moor nervous
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  than the others were in advance, some more fearful lag behind. Tarzan's opponent
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  came upon him. Already pikes were flying through the air. Tarzan and the
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  Black hurled their missiles at the same instant, and back of the ape man's
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  throat was all the skill, and all the muscle and all the weight that
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  he could command. Tarzan struck upward with his shield and his opponent's pikes struck
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  at a glancing blow, but with such force that the spear haft washed,
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  while Tarzan's weapon passed through the shield of his opponent and pierced the fellow's heart.
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  There were two others down, one killed and one wounded, and the
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  colosseum was a babel of voices and a bedlam of noise. Tarzan sprang quickly
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  to aid one of his fellows, but another white, who had killed his
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  red opponent, ran to interfere. Tarzan's net annoyed him, so he threw
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  it at a white who was pressing one of the reds, and took on
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  his fresh opponent, who had drawn his sword. His adversary was a professional
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  gladiator, a man trained in the use of all his weapons, and Tarzan
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  soon realized that only through great strength and agility might he expect to hold his
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  own with his opponent. The fellow did not rush. He came in slowly
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  and carefully feeling out Tarzan. He was cautious because he was an old hand
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  at the business and was imbued with but a single hope to live. He
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  cared as little for the hoots and jibes of the people as he did for
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  their applause, and he hated Caesar. He soon discovered that Tarzan was adopting
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  defensive tactics only. But whether this was for the purpose of feeling out his
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  opponent or whether it was part of a plan that would lead up to a
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  sudden and swift surprise, the gladiator could not guess, nor did he care
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  particularly, for he knew that he was a master of his weapon, and
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  many a corpse had been burned that in life had thought to surprise him.
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  Judging Tarzan's skill with the sword by his skill with the shield. The gladiator
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  thought he was pitted against a HEIGHTI skilled adversary, and he waited patiently for
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  Tarzan to open up his offense and reveal his style. But Tarzan had no
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  style that could be compared with that of the Gladiator. What he was awaiting
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  was a lucky chance, the only thing that he felt could assure him victory
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  over this weary and highly skilled swordsman. But the Gladiator gave him no openings,
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  and he was hoping that one of his companions would be free to come
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  to his assistance, when suddenly, and without warning, a net dropped over
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  his shoulders from behind. End of chapter fifteen