WHEN Jan recovered consciousness once more he was lying in the bottom of the boat, which the black-robed man was poling up the narrow stream. He tried to move, and found that not only his wrists, but his ankles also, were bound. Piled in the boat around him were many baskets of lotus plants which his captor had gathered.
At first they passed only the moss-draped, liana-laced border of the jungle, but they presently arrived at a place where a high wall of black marble fronted the stream. The prow of the boat grounded at the base of a flight of steps which led up from the water’s edge to a massive gate that barred a great arched gateway. At each side of this stood a guard in black armor, holding a long pike and wearing a sword and dagger.
The man in the boat shouted, and the gate swung back. A dozen black-robed figures came through it and down the steps. Some of them dragged the prow of the boat higher, while others took out the baskets of lotus plants. Many exclaimed in apparent surprise as they saw Jan lying bound in the bottom of the boat, but none offered to touch him.
When the cargo of plants had been removed, Jan’s captor looped a rope around his neck. Then he drew a knife from his girdle and cut the rope that bound his ankles, signing for him to rise.
Jan stood up, and his head swam dizzily, for it was still rocking from the blow he had received. But his captor, with a hoarse command which he could not comprehend, stepped out of the boat and tugged at the rope circling his neck—an unspoken order which the captive understood very well—and which he had to obey.
After following his conductor up the steps, Jan was led through an immense garden of well-kept flowers, shrubs and trees. It was decorated with statuary depicting some figures of rare beauty and others of surpassing ugliness. And dotted here and there were pools and fountains. In some of these pools were sacred lotuses, budding and in full bloom; in others, Jan saw the black-robes setting out the plants which had just been taken from the nearby stream.
Having crossed the garden, they entered a doorway where two more black-armored pikemen stood guard in an immense building of black marble. Then they followed for some distance a long corridor, the floor of which was of black and silver tiles, and the walls of which were decorated with brightly colored murals. Many doorways opened into this corridor, but Jan’s captor did not pause until he reached a great arched opening at its very end.
Here he was halted by two guards, each of whom, in addition to his sword and dagger, carried an immense broad-ax. After exchanging a few words with Jan’s captor, they permitted him to pass into a large central room, the domed ceiling of which resembled the sky on a starlit, moonless night. Conspicuous among the sparkling constellations was—though Jan, of course did not know what it was—a magnified representation of the planet Saturn, showing globe and rings as they would look through a telescope.
Jan stared in wonder and amazement at this vivid and exaggerated representation of the nighttime sky. Then his attention was attracted by a group of black-robed figures standing on the other side of the room at the right and left of a great, black throne.
His captor jerked him roughly forward, nearly choking him, and advancing obsequiously, knelt before the black throne.
Seated on the throne was a man whose emaciated features were of chalky paleness—a white skin stretched over a nearly fleshless skull. On his head was a shimmering silver helmet, the crest of which was fashioned to represent the arched head and neck of an alligator. It sparkled with many jewels, dominated by an immense emerald that flashed above the center of his forehead.
His lank body was encased, also, in silver armor, and over his shoulders was thrown a long, black cape, broidered and bordered with silver and jewels. Depending from about his neck by a slender chain was a ball of silver, circled with many concentric disks of the same metal—an emblem of the planet, Saturn.
As he stared down at Jan, his ghastly features were immobile, inscrutable. Only his sunken eyes, which glowed with the greenish light that characterizes the orbs of night-prowling beasts showed any signs of animation. And their gaze was baleful—menacing.
After looking at Jan for a moment, he addressed a few words to his captor. The latter replied at some length. When he had finished, the man on the throne made a sign with his right hand. As he did so, the youth noticed that in his palm was tattooed a blue flower like that in the paten of Ramona, a copy of which was in Jan’s own palm.
In response to the gesture, a fat, black-robed, shaved-headed fellow with heavy pink jowls came and bowed before the throne, extending a metal box with the lid thrown back. From this box the man on the throne selected a jeweled bracelet, which he tossed to Jan’s still kneeling captor. Then he clapped his hands, whereupon two armored guards clanked into the room from a door at the side of the dais.
At a word of command from the man on the throne, each of them seized Jan by an arm, and together they marched him away. After they had gone down a narrow and tortuous corridor for a long way, they came out into a sunlit courtyard paved with black granite. Crossing this, they arrived before a massive gate, guarded by four armored pikemen and four ax-men.
One of the pikemen drew back a heavy bar, and the gate swung open. After removing the rope from around Jan’s neck and cutting his bonds with a dagger, his two conductors pushed him through. Bewildered, he looked about him as the gate closed behind him.
He stood in a long, rectangular pen surrounded by twenty-foot walls built of large granite blocks, smooth-faced and so carefully fitted together that it was barely possible to see where they joined.
In the pen were several hundred men—not white like his captors, yet lighter in color than the Indians he had encountered in the jungle. Their skin seemed to vary from light tan to yellow. Some of them closely resembled Indians except for their lighter skins, but the eyes of most of them slanted more, and their cheek bones were more pronounced. All wore leather breech clouts and sandals of twisted grass, and some had gaudily colored blankets thrown over their shoulders.
They were squatting on the ground or standing around in little groups, conversing. But as soon as Jan entered he became the target for their glances, and evidently the chief subject of their conversation. Many crowded around him, chattering excitedly, and staring as if he were some strange beast on exhibition. The ring drew closer.
Jan snarled menacingly. He disliked Indians, for with a single exception they had always proved hostile to him; always sought his life. These men reminded him of Indians. But they gave way before him as he strode forward, stiffly erect and alert for attack, toward the gate at the opposite end of the inclosure. Perhaps they were awed by the fire that flashed from his steel-gray eyes. Or they may have been impressed by the powerful muscles that rippled beneath his smooth skin.
Having crossed the inclosure without being touched, Jan sat down in the shadow of the gate. Although many slanting eyes still stared at him, no one had followed. He considered plans for escape. He could not scale the twenty-foot walls unaided. Furthermore, at intervals of thirty feet around the rim were small sentry towers, each of which held two archers. Great stealth would be required, even on the darkest night, to avoid these alert watchers and escape with a whole skin.