IX
THE KEYS OF POWER
The sun was high in the sky when Constans awoke. For a moment or two theunfamiliar environment puzzled him; then the keen edge of remembrancesheared through the mists of sleep and he sprang to his feet, alert andready for whatever might befall. He walked over to the window facing thenorth and looked out.
For miles and miles the ruined city stretched away, a wilderness ofbrick and mortar. Here and there were areas of blackness and vacancy,where fire had worked its will, but these latter were confined for themost part to the region along the water-front and to the poorerresidential portions. The business section, with its substantial shopsand warehouses, and the central district, made up of the clubs,churches, theatres, and the handsomer private houses, remained intact,in outward appearance at least. Viewed under the rays of a gloriousmidsummer sun, the city seemed fair and proud as of yore, a stupendousmonument to the industry and genius of the race.
And yet, withal, the spectacle was a singularly mournful and depressingone, for nowhere were there any signs of life. Not a plume of vaporwaved against the azure sky, not even a dog ranged the grass-grownstreets. The silence reigned infinite and profound, and Constans startedin alarm as it was suddenly broken by the scream of an eagle out of theblue. Here was the picture of a desolation incomparably more completethan that of the untrodden desert upon which the life-giving spirit hasnever breathed. For in this place there had existed a very citadel ofbeing, and behold! a night had passed and it was not.
Suddenly Constans bethought himself of that indefinite twinkle of fire,and he trained his broken binoculars on the spot where he had marked itdown the night before. The glass disclosed the existence of acomparatively open space, doubtless one of the public squares of theancient city. It was bordered by a number of handsome edifices, and oneunusually large, cream-colored building, whose distinctive architecturalfeature was a tower of remarkably graceful proportions, attractedConstans's attention; it should serve him for a landmark, and he tookits bearings carefully.
Breakfast of brown bread and cold smoked beef was a simple andexpeditious meal, and, with his appetite appeased, Constans descended tothe street. He had his general direction in mind, and so was able toproceed at once upon his journey of exploration, keeping as closely aspossible due north. He found the sidewalks and roadway encumbered byrubbish, and here and there almost entirely blocked by fallen masonry;but in spite of these obstructions he managed to maintain a fair averagepace. Indeed, it was the strangeness of his surroundings rather than thematerial obstacles that caused his steps to loiter. The glimpses that hegot through the windows of the deserted shops amazed him; a hundredtimes he would fain have halted to investigate some fresh marvel. But hewithstood the temptation, telling himself that these things were buttrifles, and that the real objects of his quest lay farther on.
An hour's walk brought Constans to within three blocks of the buildingwith the tower. He had purposely diverged from the direct line inapproaching it, being shrewdly of the opinion that the stronghold of theDoomsmen was not far distant. He was convinced of the truth of thisconjecture when he reached the next cross-street, which debouched intothe public square already mentioned. He could see that the end of thestreet was filled by a barricade of paving-blocks and flag-stones tornup from the roadway; it looked as though the whole square were one vastand formidable fortress.
It was still early in the morning, and up to this time Constans had notseen sign of man. Now, as he continued his cautious examination of thebarrier, he noticed two or three spirals of smoke rising behind theparapet and going straight up into the windless air. The hornets werestirring then, and it behooved him to keep well away from their nest.
After some consideration Constans decided that he would continue ontowards the north, skirting this centre of danger at a safe distanceuntil he should be some distance above it. He would then work cautiouslyback towards the citadel, finally seeking some elevated point, such asthe roof of a tall building, from which to complete his observations.
After proceeding about a mile in an up-town direction, Constans turnedand walked westward for a couple of blocks. It was a broad and handsomeavenue on which he now found himself, and from the character of thebuildings which lined it Constans concluded that here was where thewealth and fashion of the ancient world had had its chosen habitation.Once again he would gladly have lingered for a closer examination of themany things that interested him, but the spur of his purpose as oftenpricked him on. Yet finally he did stop, thrilling with the sense of agreat discovery.
It was a large and architecturally impressive building that hadattracted Constans's attention, and a flash of intuition enabled him topronounce upon its true character at first sight. He was now at the veryheart of the city's social and intellectual life; here, if anywhere, hemight expect to find one of the magnificent libraries upon which theancient municipality had prided itself. He must decide the question,and, after some further searching, he discovered a side door thatyielded to his touch.
He was right, then; this was truly a library, and could he ever haveimagined that there were so many books in the world! A cloud of dustrose under his feet as he went up to the cases and tried to read thetarnished titles of the volumes on the shelves. Again Chance led himaright, and his eye brightened as he discovered an unpretentious volumethat proclaimed itself: _The Official Visitors' Guide to the City of NewYork for the Year 1905_. He pulled out the book and opened it. Of courseit contained what he wanted, a large folding map, and spreading thelatter out upon a table Constans set himself to studying it earnestly;this was his enemy's territory, and he must acquaint himself asthoroughly as possible with its points of weakness and its points ofstrength.
The task of identification proved easier than he had thought possible.Here was where he had landed the night before. Step by step he couldtrace his walk up-town, and the identity of the building in which he nowstood was made certain by the ruins of the great white cathedral a fewblocks farther north. And there, a dozen or more blocks to the south,there was the citadel, the living heart of the outlaw world, there wasthe stronghold in which one Quinton Edge sat secure and at his ease. Acold misgiving suddenly struck at Constans's heart. How could he hope tomake way alone against a host? How could he think to reach an enemyprotected by these impregnable walls? For such a task he would need towield the thunderbolts of the gods, and he had only his useless pistoland his long bow. He sighed and let his head droop for a moment, thenfelt ashamed of his weakness and straightened up again. The way wasthere; he would find it.
Mechanically, his eyes roved along the serried shelves of books, and anew light came into them. In these dusty tomes themselves were hiddenthe keys of power; he had but to seize them and the secrets of themighty past would be revealed to him, to him alone. Armed with thesepotencies he might dare and accomplish anything--everything.
Trembling with excitement, he went and stood before the cases, scanningthe various titles. Again his lucky star guided him; on the row levelwith his eyes stood an encyclopaedia of the applied arts and sciences. Hecarried the two bulky volumes to a convenient table and sat thereabsorbed.
Constans looked up in the sudden consciousness that he was observed, andmet the half-defiant, half-terrified, and wholly curious gaze of a girl.Hardly more than a child she seemed, not over fourteen at the outside,and with a figure that was all flatness and unlovely angles. Certainlyan exceedingly ugly duckling, yet there was promise of future swanshipin the clean curves of her neck and in the firm poise of the small head.Moreover, her coloring was good, a clear brown through which a scarletflush, born of the excitement of the moment, glowed intermittently, likethe flashing of distant signal-flags. And in her eyes there was acurious red glint where the light fell slantingly upon the pupil.Constans found his feet awkwardly and stood gazing at her. She in turnscanned him with attention, and obviously grew at ease in noting hisincreasing disconcertment.
"What are you doing here?" she demanded, abruptly. "You are not of t
hechildren of the Doomsmen."
"No," he answered, and compressed his lips obstinately.
"You are very foolish," she retorted, with a slow shake of her head. "IfMaster Quinton Edge catches you he will nick your ear, and then you willhave to row in the galleys."
Constans winced. Could she possibly have discovered his secret? But no;the hair fell in a thick wave upon his ears--it had been but a chanceshot.
"I am not afraid," he said, coldly. The tawny eyes, with their heart offire, rested upon him approvingly.
"I am Esmay," she answered. "What is your name?"
"What does it matter?--well, then, Constans." He spoke impatiently,being anxious to get back to his book. He glanced at it longingly, andshe, who, as it afterwards appeared, had a part to play, took the cue.
"Such stupid-looking books!" She bent carelessly over the volume on thetable. "Nothing but wheels and dotted lines and wheels again. It is aridiculous book."
"It is not," said Constans, hotly.
The damsel smiled. "Oh, if you like that sort of thing, I know of a bookover there." She pointed airily to an alcove at the opposite end of thehall. "It has many more pictures and many more wheels in colors, too,red and yellow and blue."
Constans was all on fire in an instant. "Will you show it to me?" heasked.
"In there," said the girl, and pointed to a recess between two tallcases.
Ten feet above his head ran a metal gallery that gave access to theupper tiers of shelves, but Constans did not look up, being intent uponthe treasure. Where was it? He could not see.
The noose of a rope had tightened upon his arms before he was aware thatit encircled them. He made one furious, ineffectual effort to freehimself, and then stood motionless, waiting for the next move of theunseen enemy. Forthwith, a second noose dropped smoothly around hisneck; it was at once drawn taut, and Constans was obliged to stretchhimself to his full height to avoid being strangled. He heard Esmay clapher hands, and steps descending from the gallery; then his captor stoodbefore him. He was a boy of Constans's own age, but of shorter,sturdier build. A pleasant, ingenuous face it was, flushed now with thejoy of triumph.
"Got him," he announced, importantly, to the traitress Esmay, who hadretreated towards the door. "Don't be such a coward; he can't get away,"he continued, examining his victim's bonds with critical attention.
"Look, Esmay; if he moves he hangs himself. A fix, isn't it?" and theboy laughed contentedly. It had been rare sport, this trapping of a man,worth half a dozen wolves or even a bear.
"Hollo! Esmay," he called again, and the girl came up slowly. "You didit splendidly," said the boy. "Here's the bracelet I promised you," andhe held out a circlet of gold-filigree work studded with carbuncles."They match your eyes," he added, in awkward compliment, and thenblushed for the incredible weakness of mind that had prompted his words.Was she going to laugh at him?
But the girl took, the bracelet without even a look at the donor. Shesnapped it on her wrist and walked defiantly, straight up to theprisoner, as though she would compel him to admire her treasure, tocongratulate her upon it.
Constans held himself serenely imperturbable, not even turning his head.Her face burned. She threw the bauble on the floor; it lay there crushedand shapeless. Then she turned upon her accomplice in the successfultreachery.
"I hate you! I hate you!" She walked away, imperially offended, andstood looking out of a window that faced the street.
"Whew!" whistled the boy, in dismay, that was half comic and half real.He addressed himself to Constans, naively confident of masculinesympathy. "Well, if that isn't--" but the words failed him.
Constans, angry and humiliated as he was, could not help smiling.
"You know it wasn't exactly fair," he said.
The boy considered, then answered, honestly:
"It wasn't, then, but what are we going to do about it? You are aHouseman, and you have come to spy out the secrets of Doom theForbidden. Any of the men who saw you would kill you like a snake."
"Perhaps so, but they would not wait until my back was turned or get agirl to help them."
Constans suddenly realized that he stood free of his bonds. The boy hadsevered them with his clasp-knife, that being the quickest means ofreleasing his captive.
"We will fight for it, then," he said, simply.
Constans nodded.
It was not at all an even match, for Constans was at least thirty poundslighter than his adversary, and his slightly longer reach of arm wasmore than counter-balanced by the latter's ability to take any amount ofpunishment.
Half a dozen ineffectual passes and they clinched. Constans was forcedbackward; he tripped and fell. The blows, short but savage, rained downupon his face. He tried to strike back, but his throat was gripped hard;he was suffocating. Consciousness was about to desert him, and he feltvaguely angry at this betrayal of his senses; then the light returned,and he sat up, his head swimming. A man stood between him and his lateopponent. It was Quinton Edge, and the recognition was a mutual one.
"Oh, you!" drawled Quinton Edge, with that well-remembered,fine-gentleman inflection. "I am almost sorry that I interfered, butthis young lady would have it so, and a woman's will is always law. Eh,Ulick?"
But the boy Ulick scowled. "It was no business of yours," he said,angrily.
"That depends. Besides, it stands to reason that no man likes to see hisown property mishandled. You don't realize, my good fellow, that youhave a fist as rough as a shark-skin."
"Your property!" echoed the boy, in disdain. "Prove it."
"Easily," smiled Quinton Edge, and drew aside the lock of hair thatconcealed the V-shaped nick in Constans's left ear.
"Oh!" said Ulick, shortly. He had been quick to see and interpret theappeal in his prisoner's eyes. "It makes not a particle of difference,"asserted Ulick, stubbornly. "He is my captive, taken in fair fight, andhe belongs to me for all of his nicked ear. I sha'n't give him up, andthat's my last word to you, Master Quinton Edge."
Half a dozen men entered the hall hurriedly; the girl Esmay must havesummoned them when she had disappeared a few minutes before. Sturdyvarlets they were, clad in green jerkins and armed with ashen lancespointed with steel. As Constans came afterwards to know, they were ofthe personal body-guard of the old Dom Gillian, to whom the boy Ulickwas both grandson and presumptive heir. Now Quinton Edge was not yetready to measure swords with Dom Gillian. So he veiled his irritationand answered, equably:
"THE BLOWS RAINED DOWN UPON HIS FACE"]
"You know the law about harboring a House-dweller, and since you chooseto violate it"--here he shrugged his shoulders detestably--"let DomGillian see to it. Yet, for the sake of peace, I will ask you once moreto surrender this serf, who bears my mark and is legally proved myproperty. In the end it may save a mountain of trouble. What say you?"
"No!" thundered Ulick, roundly, for he was angered at the impliedthreat, and would have held his ground now out of pure stubbornness.Whereupon Quinton Edge smiled and sauntered out, adjusting the rufflesat his wrist and carrying himself as gallantly as though he had been thevictor, not the vanquished, in this little contest of wills.
Constans went up to Ulick and held out his hand. "Thank you," he said,awkwardly, and Ulick flushed in his turn.
The guardsmen were crowding about the two boys, looking curiously atConstans. But Ulick ordered them out imperiously, and they obeyed, beingmen of slow wit and not used to argue with their superiors. Ulick turnedto Constans. "Well, that was fair enough, to make up for--for the otherthing?"
Constans nodded a hearty assent; he hesitated, and then spoke, steadily:"But you must understand that I would rather fight again than wear theiron collar of a slave, or call any one master, even you. You will killme, for you are the better man with the naked fist. But I should preferit that way."
"Will you leave this with me?" asked Ulick, nodding his head wisely,and Constans wondered and submitted.
They went out into the breathless noon of an August day. Two or three
men were loitering about, and Ulick frowned as he saw them.
"I shall have to take you to my grandsire," he whispered. "These areQuinton Edge's men, and they are doubtless under orders to watch us.This way," and Constans followed obediently.
Ulick stopped at a beautiful Gothic edifice, built about a smallcourt-yard, in which a score of the green-jerkined guardsmen werelounging. In a corner stood a wooden cistern for the collection ofrain-water from the roof-spouts. Ulick drew a pannikin of water andoffered it to Constans that he might bathe his face, which was badlypuffed and marked. How reviving, the touch of the cool, clean liquid!Constans arose, mightily refreshed; then, in response to his guide'slook, he followed him into the main hallway of the house and up thebroad stairs.
The building, judging from its size and appointments, must have been thedwelling of one of the richest members of the ancient plutocracy, andthe traces of a splendid luxury were to be seen on all sides. Thecolored marbles underfoot, the gilding overhead, the gorgeous, albeittorn and weather-stained tapestries that covered the walls--these thingswere eloquent of a pristine magnificence that could hardly have beenequalled, even in this city of palaces. Constans kept looking about himwith all his eyes, but Ulick strode along indifferently. Every son ofthe Doomsmen might possess a dwelling measurably as fine as this if hechose to look for it, but from a practical point of view the solequalification for a man's house was that it should be standing in plumband tolerably weather-proof. Gold-leaf and silken hangings would notkeep out the rain, and it was folly to spend time in making repairs.When a house became uninhabitable it was a simple matter to move intoanother.
The apartment into which they now entered was long and lofty. The thickcurtains remained drawn before the windows, excluding so much of thelight that Constans had great difficulty in finding his way about. Then,his eyes adjusting themselves to the obscurity, he saw before him adivan piled high with pillows. Propped up against them was the figure ofan old man.
And such a man! In his prime he must have been a very colossus ofstrength and stature, and even now, in his senility, the muscles thathad made terrible those great limbs could be plainly traced. For thiswas Dominus Gillian, whose name had been first a byword and then aterror, and even now was a power to conjure with; Dom Gillian, renegadeand hero, gallows-bird and world-builder, but ever and in all things aman, as all other men will bear witness.
He knew his favorite grandchild, and smiled as Ulick respectfully raisedand kissed his hand, that hand in whose hollow had lain the world, nowshrunken and nerveless, scarce able to crush an impertinent fly. Ulickspoke slowly and distinctly, explaining his action and seeking boldly tojustify it.
This dog of the House People had dared, under veil of darkness, to creepinto the Gray Wolf's den. He, Ulick, had captured him alone and unaided;surely such an exploit deserved recognition, and Ulick desired to keepthe prisoner as his own property. Could he do so, no matter what claimmight be urged against his right?
The old man listened, and looked at Constans indifferently. Then hespoke in the inflectionless monotone of extreme old age:
"A House-dweller and a snake, my son--crush them when you can, for thewoods are full of shadows, and a man cannot always see where to planthis foot. I have lived very long, and I know."
"But, my father, if you will only let me----"
"I am tired," interrupted the even, expressionless tones. "Go away andleave me to sleep. To-morrow we will cut out this Houseman's eyes andtongue, so that he may see nothing and tell nothing. Then you may havehim for your plaything--it will be better so."
The eyelids fell, and the old man slept placidly, his face serene asthat of a babe. The two boys stole quietly away.
Down a narrow passage and a flight of stairs into a dark, cool room,underground, as Constans conjectured. Ulick left him there, counsellingquiet and repose for the next few hours.
It was night when Ulick finally appeared and conducted his departingguest to the open air. The moon had not yet risen, and the danger ofdetection was practically past.
"You are sure that you can find your boat," whispered Ulick, as theystood facing each other, curiously loath to part.
"Yes," answered Constans, "for I shall follow the river straight down.It will take a little longer, but that matters not. Good-bye; I sha'n'tforget."
A slender figure slipped out from the shadow of a doorway and confrontedthem. It was Esmay, and she spoke with serene gravity.
"Since you and Ulick are friends you ought to make it up with me also.But not unless you really want to," she added, hastily.
Constans smiled with youthful cynicism.
"Of course," he answered, magnificently condescending. "You are a woman,and knew no better."
She snatched her hand away. "Yes, I am a woman, Master Constans, andsome day you will know what that means." She moved away, majestically asdoes a goddess, conscious of her power but magnanimously refraining fromusing it. Constans and Ulick laughed after the manner of men-kind whofind it easy to disbelieve in what they do not understand. Then, with along hand-grip, they parted.
The canoe was still in its hiding-place underneath the ruined pier, andConstans's first care was to stow away in the stern-locker the twovolumes of the scientific cyclopaedia that he had been reading at thetime of his capture. Ulick of his own volition had stolen the books fromthe library hall, and had put them into Constans's hands at the momentof parting. They made a heavy load for him to carry, but what a preciousburden it was and how gladly he assumed it! For these were the keys ofpower.
As Constans paddled out into the stream he heard the steady thumping ofoars in rowlock. He shoved back into the shadow of the pier just as agreat galley filled with men came foaming down the river. Constans couldsee that it was a war-vessel of the largest size, for there were fullsixty oars on a side arranged in two banks. The figure-head was therepresentation of a black swan, and on the poop-deck stood the slight,graceful figure of a man wearing a plumed hat. Constans saw him removethe cigar from his lips as he turned to give an order. Instantly theport-oars held and backed, and the galley, swinging round on her heel,headed up-stream again, passing within fifty yards of Constans'shiding-place. The boy's bow was in his hand, but he had not attempted tofit an arrow to the string. "It will come--the time," he said, under hisbreath.
Constans stared gravely after the _Black Swan_ as she drove along. Butfor the best of good-fortune he might now be tugging at a heavy ashenoar, with the lash of the deck-master striping his back. Ulick,Esmay--yes, he had much to remember.
Two hours later he had scaled the wall of Croye, without beingdiscovered by the sleepy sentinels, and was safe on his pallet ofcorn-husks in Messer Hugolin's attic.