Chapter XXVI: A Diabolical Torture Chamber

The plans of Prince Destho for the reconquest of Uxpo were materializing rapidly, as he breakfasted leisurely in the throne room of his castle several days later. He had sent no less than fifty hired assassins to slay Grandon, and, if this failed, had a huge army of thirty thousand men assembled in and around his stronghold, ready to march on the rebellious kingdom.

Daintily selecting small tidbits from a huge tray containing an immense assortment of choice viands which four slaves held for him beside the scarlet-cushioned throne, he conversed condescendingly with a group of his officers who stood on either side of him in an attitude of respectful attention.

A courier, dusty and bedraggled was hurried before the throne.

"How now, Torbo?" asked Destho, glancing down at the courier. "What tidings from Uxpo?"

"Grandon of Terra has been slain and his body lies in state at the royal palace!"

"Great news, if true. Who slew him?"

"I do not know, but it is rumored that the men who succeeded in the attempt were, themselves, slain."

"Did you see the body?"

"I did, your majesty, and the features were so horribly mutilated as to be unrecognizable. I also regret to inform your majesty that your chief assassin, Malcabar was slain yesterday morning."

Destho turned to his councillors. "We will not disband our army yet," he said. "I must have a further confirmation of this."

A few minutes later, two of the castle guards entered, ushering between them a tall, bearded man in the uniform of a soldier of Reabon. All three made the customary salute before the throne, then they rose, and the two guards stepped back, leaving the tall soldier in the center of the floor.

"Whom have we here?" asked Destho, addressing one of the guards.

"His papers proclaim him one Xantol of Uxpo, resident helper of the spy, Malcabar, and a bearer of tidings for your highness."

Destho looked long and appraisingly at the soldier. It seemed that those black eyes were searching the usurper's very soul.

"Your tidings, Xantol," snapped Destho.

"I have been sent to inform your highness of a rumor being circulated in Uxpo, to the effect that Grandon of Terra has been slain."

"A rumor, say you? You bring us stale news, fellow. We have already been apprised that the villainous impostor is dead and that his mutilated body lies in state in the palace."

Destho turned to the guard.

"Who signed this man's papers?" he asked.

"They are signed by Malcabar."

Destho elevated his eyebrows ever so slightly.

"By Malcabar? Let me see them."

He examined the papers carefully.

"The writing and signature seem genuine," he said: "Send for that courier again!"

As Torbo reëntered, bowing low, Destho snarled:

"So! You found it expedient to lie to me, Torbo!"

"I--lie to your highness?" exclaimed Torbo in surprise. "Surely it pleases your highness to jest with his humble servant."

"You told me that Malcabar was slain yesterday morning. I have here a letter, written and signed by him last evening. Can the dead write letters?"

"If you have a letter from Malcabar, then indeed can the dead write letters, for I swear by the bones of Thorth that I saw him lead the attack on the usurper yesterday morning and a huge armored guard clove him from crown to chin."

* * * * *

Destho looked searchingly from Torbo to the soldier, and from the soldier back to Torbo.

"One of you lies, that is certain," he said, "and you may rest assured, both of you, that the guilty man will be discovered and dealt with for his perfidy."

"May I ask who brought the letter?" asked Torbo.

"I brought the letter," replied the soldier.

"And who are you?"

"Xantol of Uxpo, resident helper of Malcabar."

Torbo flushed angrily.

"This man lies," he said. "Malcabar had no Uxponian helpers. All were men of Reabon, and all died with him yesterday morning."

"You were acquainted with Malcabar's assistants?" asked Destho.

"Every one of them."

"And you have never seen this man before?"

"I have seen him somewhere," replied Torbo, knitting his brows. "His face is familiar yet unfamiliar." He approached the soldier and scanned his features carefully. Then he burst into a loud laugh.

"Shoot me for a hahoe if this man wears not a false beard," he said, and to prove his statement he suddenly reached forward and plucked a handful of hair from the man's face.

The Uxponian whipped out his scarbo, but strong arms pinioned his own from behind, and, in a moment, he was deprived of his blade and stood helpless in the grip of the two burly guards.

"Pluck a few more feathers from this bird and see if you can identify him," said Destho.

"That is unnecessary," replied Torbo, "for I have recognized him already. He is Grandon of Terra!"

Had a thunderbolt crashed through the arched ceiling at that moment it could hardly have created more surprise. Destho was dumfounded.

"Grandon of Terra?" he exclaimed. "But you told me that he was dead."

"I did not tell you that I saw him die," replied Torbo, "and this man here is unquestionably Grandon of Terra."

A gleam of triumph shone in the eyes of Destho at these words.

"You are more of a fool than I took you to be, Grandon of Terra," he said. "Perhaps even more of a fool than you took me for."

"It is possible," replied Grandon, "that I surpass you in folly. You have, however, two other qualities on which I must yield you all honors."

"And those are--"

"Treachery and cowardice!"

Destho's brows contracted and his face flamed with rage.

"Away with him," he roared. "Let him meditate on his folly in the darkness of the dungeon until we have use for him."

The burly guards hustled Grandon out of a side door and along a narrow passage to a winding stairway which seemed to lead into the very bowels of the earth, so long were they in descending. After manacling his wrists and ankles they pushed him into a dark, foul-smelling hole and slammed and fastened a heavy metal door which fitted so snugly that not the tiniest ray of light was admitted.

As he lay on the damp, slimy floor, Grandon pondered the words of Destho. The phrase "until we have use for him" was puzzling. Of what possible use could he be to his captor, other than to afford him pleasure by his death throes?

* * * * *

Grandon was not to be kept in suspense as to what the usurper Destho planned to do with his captive. After a short interval, two guards entered Grandon's dungeon, removed the manacles from his ankles, and led him up the spiral stairway.

They did not go all the way to the top, but turned off through a narrow doorway which Grandon judged to be about halfway to the ground level.

A short walk along a dimly-lighted passage brought them to an underground chamber which looked to Grandon like a workshop or laboratory of some sort, for it contained several unusual appearing contrivances.

In one corner was a raised circular platform covered with a resilient material greatly resembling rubber. He noticed that there was a hole in the center of the platform, and that a pipe, evidently connected with the hole, led from under it to a small motor which stood near by. A huge glass bell was suspended by a pulley above the platform and a steel chair stood beside it. The only other articles of furniture in the room were a wooden chair and table on which were writing materials.

The two guards chained Grandon to the steel chair and, lifting him between them, placed him on the raised platform directly above the hole.

A moment later Destho entered. He looked at Grandon with a grim smile. Then he turned to the nearest guard.

"I see you have things in readiness. Now bring her imperial majesty and see that her face be veiled so that none may recognize her on the way."

Scarce had the guard left to do the bidding of his master ere Bopo, captain of Destho's private guards, entered.

"Where is the document, dolt?" demanded Destho. "Have you failed to prepare it?"

"Here," replied Bopo, hastily drawing a scroll from beneath his garments. "I kept it hid, as your majesty commanded secrecy in the matter."

"Good. Let me have it."

Destho read the document hastily. Then he read it again more slowly.

"Are you sure this is the correct legal form?" he asked.

"I am positive, your majesty."

Destho placed the scroll on the table, then crossed the room and bowed politely as the guard returned, leading a woman whose face was heavily veiled.

Suddenly she flung back her veil and rushed forward with a little smothered cry, paying no attention whatever to Destho. Grandon's heart leaped to his throat at sight of her pale face and golden tresses.

"Vernia!" he exclaimed, and would have risen, but the chains held him.

"My Grandon--my hero!" she cried as her lips found his and clung there, and her arms went about his neck. He tried to lift his manacled hands to smooth her hair as she buried her face on his shoulder, sobbing incoherently.

"But why did you come here alone--to certain death?" she cried.

Grandon whispered his answer in her ear. "Zueppa, though fearfully wounded, managed to reach me with tidings of your whereabouts. It would have been futile to bring my small army, so I came alone, disguised as the helper of an assassin who attempted my life."

"Enough of this whispering!" cried Destho, smiling maliciously, as he tore her from her lover and led her to the chair beside the table.

* * * * *

"A pleasant surprise I prepared for you, fair cousin, was it not?" Destho said. "You have had your little emotional outburst. Now let us get down to business. I have a document here which needs only your signature to make it legal. Read it aloud, Bopo, that all may hear and bear witness."

Bopo took the scroll and advanced pompously to the center of the floor. He unrolled it with a flourish, cleared his throat, and read aloud:

"'A proclamation by her imperial majesty, Vernia, Princess of Reabon:

"'On the twenty-fourth day of the eighth Endir in the four thousand and tenth year of Thorth, I, Vernia of Reabon, hereby proclaim and declare to all my subjects throughout the length and breadth of the empire that I have taken for my husband, and raised to the office of emperor, to rule over me and my people, the brave and illustrious Prince Destho.

"'It is my command that copies of this proclamation be made and distributed to all parts of the empire without delay, and that the fifth day of the ninth Endir be set aside as a day for feasting and suitable celebration in honor of this momentous event.'"

He finished and handed the scroll to Destho, who spread it on the table before Vernia.

She looked up with flashing eyes.

"Surely you do not expect me to sign such a ridiculous document?" she said.

"You refuse?"

For answer she seized it and flung it from her.

"More temperament," said Destho, coolly, picking up the scroll. "You compel me to use persuasion."

He made a sign to the guard, who grinned broadly and, losing the chain by which the glass bell was suspended, lowered it until it rested firmly on the elastic edges of the platform where Grandon sat, calm and immobile in the iron chair.

"It is plainly evident," said Destho, "that you have some regard for yonder doomed man."

Vernia started at his words.

"Though he is a rebel and a traitor and richly deserves death, you could have saved his life, merely by signing your name. As it is, you shall have the pleasure of witnessing his death struggles. Start the motor."

The burly guard crossed to the motor with a grin more broad than before, and pressed a button.

* * * * *

Vernia, peering intently through the glass, saw Grandon flinch slightly when the thing started. Then he compressed his lips and settled back as if resolved to meet his fate calmly. Presently she noticed that he was breathing convulsively with nostrils distended.

"Stop! You are killing him!" she screamed. "Stop that terrible thing. I will sign. I will do anything."

Destho made a sign to the guard, who pressed another button and opened a valve, but not before Grandon's head had sunk limply forward. There was a loud hissing sound and he raised his head, gasping weakly.

"I thought you might be brought to reason, stubborn and headstrong though you are," said Destho with a smile of triumph.

He placed the scroll before her and she paused for a moment, for Grandon was looking at her through the glass and shaking his head emphatically.

"I cannot do it," she said weakly.

"Very well," replied Destho. He turned to the guard. "Start the motor. There will be no stopping it this time."

"No, no!" cried Vernia. "Do not start it. I will sign."

Again Destho motioned for the guard to desist. Vernia held the scroll, half rolled, before her. She looked at Grandon for a moment as if in silent farewell. Then she tore her eyes from his with a visible effort and resolutely affixed her name to the document.

Destho seized it eagerly and examined the signature. Then he rolled it up, stuffed it in his bosom, and with a diabolical laugh, walked to the motor, closed the valve and pressed the button.

Vernia, sensing his purpose, screamed frantically and ran to shut the thing off, but he intercepted her and forced her back in the chair.

"I am legal emperor of Reabon now," he said. "There is no more need for force, for my word is law. I now decree that this traitor shall die, and you, in company with your beloved husband, will have the pleasure of watching his death struggles."