Prince Gobred and his family sat, with the higher nobles of Nimmr, at a table slightly raised above the rest of the board and running across its upper end, the whole forming a huge T. When he wished to speak to anyone farther down the table he resorted to the simple expedient of raising his voice, so that if several were so inclined at the same time the room became a bedlam of uproar and confusion.
And as Blake sat at the farthest end of the table it was necessary for one at Gobred's end to scream to attract attention, though when it was discovered that it was the prince who was speaking the rest of the company usually lapsed into silence out of respect for him, unless they were too far gone in drink.
Shortly after the feasters were seated Gobred had arisen and lifted his goblet high in air, and silence had fallen upon the whole company as knights and ladies rose and faced their prince.
"Hail to our King!" cried Gobred. "Hail to our liege lord, Richard of England!"
And in a great chorus rose the answering "Hail!" as the company drank the health of Richard Coeur de Lion seven hundred and twenty- eight years after his death!
Then they drank the health of Gobred and of the Princess Brynilda, his wife, and of the Princess Guinalda, and each time a voice boomed from just below the dais of the prince: "Here I am looking at thee!" as Sir Richard with a proud smile displayed his newly acquired knowledge.
Again Prince Gobred arose. "Hail!" he cried, "to that worthy sir knight who hath most nobly and chivalrously acquitted himself in the lists this day! Hail to Sir James, Knight Templar and, now, Knight of Nimmr!"
Not even the name of Richard I of England had aroused the enthusiasm that followed the drinking to Sir James. The length of the long hall Blake's eyes traveled straight to where Guinalda stood: He saw her drink to him and he saw that her eyes were regarding him, but the distance was too great and the light of the pitch torches and the oil cressets too dim for him to see whether her glance carried a message of friendship or dislike.
When the noise had partially subsided and the drinkers had retaken their seats Blake arose.
"Prince Gobred," he called the length of the room, "knights and ladies of Nimmr, I give you another toast! To Sir Malud!"
For a moment there was silence, the silence of surprise, and then the company arose and drank the health of the absent Sir Malud.
"Thou art a strange sir knight, with strange words upon thy lips and strange ways, Sir James," shouted Gobred, "but though thou callest a hail 'a toast' and thy friends be 'old top' and 'kid,' yet withal it seemeth that we understand thee and we would know more about thy country and the ways of the noble knights that do abide there.
"Tell us, are they all thus chivalrous and magnanimous to their fallen foes?"
"If they're not they get the raspberry," explained Blake.
"'Get the raspberry'!" repeated Gobred. "'Tis some form of punishment, methinks."
"You said it, Prince!"
"Of a surety I said it, Sir James!" snapped Gobred with asperity.
"I mean, Prince, that you hit the nail on the head—you guessed it the first time. You see the raspberry is about the only form of punishment that the Knights of the Squared Circle, or the Knights of the Diamond can understand."
"Knights of the Squared Circle! Knights of the Diamond! Those are knightly orders of which I wot not. Be they doughty knights?"
"Some of them are dotty, but a lot of them are regulars. Take Sir Dempsey, for instance, a knight of the Squared Circle. He showed 'em all he was a regular knight in defeat, which is much more difficult than being a regular knight in victory."
"Be there other orders of knighthood these days?" demanded Gobred.
"We're lousy with them!"
"What!" cried Gobred.
"We're all knights these days," explained Blake.
"All knights! Be there no serfs nor yeomen? 'Tis incredible!"
"Well, there are some yeomen in the navy, I think; but all the rest of us, pretty much, are knights. You see things have changed a lot since the days of Richard. The people have sort of overthrown the old order of things. They poked a lot of ridicule at knights and wanted to get rid of knighthood, and as soon as they had they all wanted to be knights themselves; so we have Knights Templar now and Knights of Pythias and Knights of Columbus and Knights of Labor and a lot more I can't recall."
"Methinks it must be a fine and noble world," cried Gobred, "for what with so many noble sir knights it would seem that they must often contend, one against another—is that not true?"
"Well, they do scrap some," Blake admitted.
15. THE LONELY CRAVE
Within the dark interior of the beyt Stimbol could see nothing. Just before him he beard a man breathing heavily as might one in a troubled sleep. The would-be murderer paused to steady his nerves. Then, on hands and knees, he crept forward inch by inch.
Presently one of his hands touched the prostrate figure of the sleeper. Lightly, cautiously, Stimbol groped until he had definitely discovered the position in which his victim lay. In one hand, ready, he grasped the keen knife. He scarce dared breathe for fear he might awaken the ape-man. He prayed that Tarzan was a sound sleeper, and he prayed that the first blow of his weapon would reach that savage heart.
Now he was ready! He had located the exact spot where he must strike! He raised his knife and struck. His victim shuddered spasmodically. Again and again with savage maniacal force and speed the knife was plunged into the soft flesh. Stimbol felt the warm blood spurt out upon his hand and wrist.
At length, satisfied that his mission had been accomplished, he scurried from the beyt Now he was trembling so that he could scarcely stand—terrified, revolted by the horrid crime he had committed.
Wild-eyed, haggard, he stumbled to the mukaad of Ibn Jad's beyt and there he collapsed. The sheikh stepped from the women's quarters and looked down upon the trembling figure that the dim light of a paper lantern revealed.
"What doest thou here, Nasrany?" he demanded.
"I have done it, Ibn Jad!" muttered Stimbol.
"Done what?" cried the sheikh.
"Slain Tarzan of the Apes."
"Ai! Ai!" screamed Ibn Jad. "Tollog! Where art thou? Hirfa! Ateja! Come! Didst hear what theNasrany sayeth?"
Hirfa and Ateja rushed into the mukaad.
"Didst hear him?" repeated Ibn Jad. "He hath slain my good friend the great sheikh of the Jungle, Motlog! Fahd! Haste!" His voice had been rising until now he was screaming at the top of his lungs and Arabs were streaming toward his beyt from all directions.
Stimbol, stunned by what he had done, dumb from surprise and terror at the unexpected attitude of Ibn Jad, crouched speechless in the center of the mukaad.
"Seize him!" cried the sheikh to the first man that arrived. "He hath slain Tarzan of the Apes, our great friend, who was to preserve us and lead us from this land of dangers. Now all will be our enemies. The friends of Tarzan will fall upon us and slay us. Allah, bear witness that I am free from guilt in this matter and let Thy wrath and the wrath of the friends of Tarzan fall upon this guilty man!"
By this time the entire population of the menzil was gathered in front of the sheikh's beyt, and if they were surprised by his protestations of sudden affection for Tarzan they gave no evidence of it.
"Take him away!" commanded Ibn Jad. "In the morning we shall gather and decide what we must do."