Mars (Planet) -- Fiction; Martians -- Fiction; Science fiction
"What!" I roared, "Heru taken from the palace by a handful of men and
none of you infernal rascals--none of you white-livered abortions
lifted a hand to save her--curse on you a thousand times. Out of my
way, you churls!" And snatching up coat and hat and sword I rushed
furiously down the long, marble stairs just as the short Martian night
was giving place to lavender-coloured light of morning. I found my way
somehow down the deserted corridors where the air was heavy with
aromatic vapours; I flew by curtained niches and chambers where amongst
mounds of half-withered flowers the Martian lovers were slowly waking.
Down into the banquethall I sped, and there in the twilight was the
litter of the feast still about--gold cups and silver, broken bread and
meat, the convolvulus flowers all turning their pallid faces to the
rosy daylight, making pools of brightness between the shadows. Amongst
the litter little sapphire-coloured finches were feeding, twittering
merrily to themselves as they hopped about, and here and there down the
long tables lay asprawl a belated reveller, his empty oblivion-phial
before him, his curly head upon his arms, dreaming perhaps of last
night's feast and a neglected bride dozing dispassionate in some
distant chamber. But Heru was not there and little I cared for
twittering finches or sighing damsels. With hasty feet I rushed down
the hall out into the cool, sweet air of the planet morning.
There I met one whom I knew, and he told me he had been among the crowd
and had heard the woodmen had gone no farther than the river gate, that
Heru was with them beyond a doubt. I would not listen to more. "Good!"
I shouted. "Get me a horse and just a handful of your sleek kindred
and we will pull the prize from the bear's paw even yet! Surely," I
said, turning to a knot of Martian youths who stood listening a few
steps away, "surely some of you will come with me at this pinch? The
big bullies are very few; the sea runs behind them; the maid in their
clutch is worth fighting for; it needs but one good onset, five
minutes' gallantry, and she is ours again. Think how fine it will look
to bring her back before yon sleepy fellows have found their weapons.
You, there, with the blue tunic! you look a proper fellow, and
something of a heart should beat under such gay wrappings, will you
come with me?"
But blue-mantle, biting his thumbs, murmured he had not breakfasted yet
and edged away behind his companions. Wherever I looked eyes dropped
and timid hands fidgeted as their owners backed off from my dangerous
enthusiasm. There was obviously no help to be had from them, and
meantime the precious moments were flying, so with a disdainful glance
I turned on my heels and set off alone as hard as I could go for the
harbour.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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