Science fiction -- Periodicals; Science fiction, American -- Periodicals
He strode past them. In the adjacent apartment we found the king lying
upon the floor. A wound in his throat welled crimson. He had evidently
been lying here alone, and had just now been found by a girl who had
entered. He was not quite dead. Derek bent over him. He opened his eyes.
He gasped faintly: "Rohbar--killed me. Rohbar and that--accursed crimson
Sensua...."
His voice trailed away. The light went out of his staring eyes. Derek
laid him gently back on the floor.
And as though already the news of his death had miraculously spread, the
bell in the castle tower began tolling. Not clanging now. Tolling, with
slow, solemn accent. The crowd evidently recognized it. We could hear
the shouts: "Death! Death has come!"
Derek's eyes ware blazing as he stood up. "The end, Charlie! I would not
have planned this, and yet...."
He did not finish. He whirled, rushed back to the other room and to the
balcony. The scene was again in confusion the crowd milling, voices
shouting:
"The king is dead!"
At the edge of the garden a woman's shrill, hysterical laughter rose
over the din.
Derek called, "Yes, the king is dead!" He paused. Then he added, "If you
want me--if I have your loyalty--I will claim my throne."
A tumult interrupted him. "Alexandre! King Alexandre!"
He spread his arms, but he could not silence them.
"The king is dead. Long live King Alexandre!"
A wave of it swept over the garden, engulfing the castle. At the main
entrance Leonto's soldiers stood sullen, listening to it.
Derek stood triumphant. His hands were outstretched, palms down. But up
on the circular bridge at the top of the tower there was a sudden
commotion. The soldiers up there had vanished, moved back within the
tower to make room for other figures. I stared amazed, transfixed. A
huge man in leather garments was there, with a sword stuck in his wide
belt. A man with a bullet head, a heavy face, gazing down....
Rohbar!
And held in front of him the slender figure of a girl. Hope! He clutched
her, his thick arm encircling her breast. With sinking heart I realized
what had happened. Hope had moved away from me. Every one in the room
had been intent upon Derek. Rohbar had come quietly in, after murdering
the king, had seized Hope, stifled her outcry, and had taken her up into
the tower.
And I had promised Derek that I would shield this girl from harm! The
horror of it--the self-condemnation of it--swept me, froze me to
numbness. I could not think; I could only stand and stare. Rohbar held
Hope like a shield before him. The low railing hardly reached her knees.
A sheer drop to the garden beneath. He held her tightly, and in his free
hand I saw his dirk come up menacingly against her white throat. His
voice called:
"Silent, down there! Alexandre, you traitor! Silence!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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