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." It was Count Thespides who spoke--a tall man, whose black locks werecurled and scented.With one white hand he smoothed his pointed mustache, and with the other he held avelvet chaperon with a scarlet feather fastened by a golden clasp.His pointed shoes were satin, hiscote-hardie of gold-broidered velvet.His manner was slightly affected, but the thews under his silks weresteely."It were well to offer Ophir more gold for your royal brother's release.""I strongly disagree," broke in Taurus the chancellor, an elderly man in an ermine-fringed robe, whosefeatures were lined with the cares of his long service."We have already offered what will beggar thekingdom to pay.To offer more would further excite Ophir's cupidity.My princess, I say as I have saidbefore: Ophir will not move until we have met this invading horde.If we lose, he will give king Khossus toKoth; if we win, he will doubtless restore his majesty to us on payment of the ransom."Page 11"And in the meantime," broke in Amalric, "the soldiers desert daily, and the mercenaries are restless toknow why we dally." He was a Nemedian, a large man with a lion-like yellow mane."We must moveswiftly, if at all-""Tomorrow we march southward," she answered."And there is the man who shall lead you!"Jerking aside the velvet curtains she dramatically indicated theCimmerian.It was perhaps not an entirely happy moment for the disclosure.Conan was sprawled in hischair, his feet propped on the ebony table, busily engaged in gnawing a beef-bone which he grippedfirmly in both hands.He glanced casually at the astounded nobles, grinned faintly at Amalric, and went onmunching with undisguised relish."Mitra protect us!" exploded Amalric."That's Conan the northron, the most turbulent of all my rogues!I'd have hanged him long ago, were he not the best swordsman that ever donned hauberk-""Your highness is pleased to jest!" cried Thespides, his aristocratic features darkening."This man is asavage--a fellow of no culture or breeding! It is an insult to ask gentlemen to serve under him! I-""Count Thespides," said Yasmela, "you have my glove under your baldric.Please give it to me, and thengo.""Go?" he cried, starting."Go where?""To Koth or to Hades!" she answered."If you will not serve me as I wish, you shall not serve me at all.""You wrong me, princess," he answered, bowing low, deeply hurt."I would not forsake you.For yoursake I will even put my sword at the disposal of this savage.""And you, my lord Amalric?"Amalric swore beneath his breath, then grinned.True soldier of fortune, no shift of fortune, howeveroutrageous, surprized him much."I'll serve under him.A short life and a merry one, say I--and with Conan the Throat-slitter in command,life is likely to be both merry and short.Mitra! If the dog ever commanded more than a company ofcut-throats before, I'll eat him, harness and all!""And you, my Agha?" she turned to Shupras.He shrugged his shoulders resignedly.He was typical of the race evolved along Koth's southernborders--tall and gaunt, with features leaner and more hawk-like than his purer-blooded desert kin."Ishtar gives, princess." The fatalism of his ancestors spoke for him."Wait here," she commanded, and while Thespides fumed and gnawed his velvet cap, Taurus mutteredwearily under his breath, and Amalric strode back and forth, tugging at his yellow beard and grinning likea hungry lion, Yasmela disappeared again through the curtains and clapped her hands for her slaves.At her command they brought harness to replace Conan's chain-mail--gorget, sollerets, cuirass,Page 12pauldrons, jambes, cuisses and sallet.When Yasmela again drew the curtains, a Conan in burnished steelstood before his audience.Clad in the platearmor, vizor lifted and dark face shadowed by the blackplumes that nodded above his helmet, there was a grim impressiveness about him that even Thespidesgrudgingly noted.A jest died suddenly on Amalric's lips."By Mitra," said he slowly, "I never expected to see you cased in coat-armor, but you do not put it toshame [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]