Adventure Magazine Cover — page 36: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

_~ he said. a a, — we > ee era, gd LS ee Oe a een as Pe MP ks Ma . * J . = é : *. Adventure nod to Tros that he should keep his distance. So Tros stood, leaning on his drawn sword, his head bowed, until they came forth at last bearing the body between them. It was no longer covered with Czsar’s scarlet cloak, but robed in druid’s garments under a pur- ple sheet and laid on a gilded stretcher. The old High-Druid swayed ahead of the procession, chanting. They ascended the poop-ladder, hardly pausing, skilfully pass- ing the stretcher from hand to hand so that the body they honored was always feet first, always horizontal, paused on the poop to chant a changed refrain, then descended the ladder to the barge, with the rear end Of the stretcher hung in slings, and no com- motion or mismovement to disturb the dead man’s dignity. The chanting rose to higher melody, as if they welcomed a warrior home, when they laid the body on the platform in the barge’s midst. Then the old High-Druid took his stand beneath the canopy; the rowers cast » off from the anchor-poles; the barge moved Out into the stream, and to a new chant, wilder and more wonderful, the oarsmen Swung in unison, until they vanished in a crimson glow of sunset between autumn- tinted oaks, up river. Then, Tros broke silence. “Thus, not otherwise, a soul goes forth,” “None knoweth whither. They bear it forth; and there are they who shall receive it.” He spoke Greek; only Conops could have understood the words, and Conops’ senses were all occupied in watching Skell and Helma, trying to guess what mischief they ' were brewing. Quietly he plucked Tros’ sleeve, whispering: “Master; better give me leave to kill that sly-eyed fox! Coax him forward of the cook-house. Slip the knife in back of his ear! As for the woman——” He did not offer to kill the woman; he was thrifty; he knew her value. “——— whip her! Whip her now, before She thinks you easy and does you a damage! Take my advice, master, or she will cook a mischief for you quicker than she burned the stew!” The sun went down; and in a haze of purple twilight Tros drew Helma to the starboard rail, backing her against it. “What did Skell say this time?” he de- manded. Conops was listening, hand on knife-hilt, watching Skell, who leaned over the far rail whistling to himself. The hireling sea- men having pumped the bireme dry had gone to the bow, where they were half- invisible, like fantoms herded in the gloom. The tide was rising fast; the broken oars — between the ships already creaked to the longship’s motion, but the bireme was still hard and fast. Helma laughed mirthlessly,; but she seemed to have recovered something of her former spirit. “You are arrogant, and I obey you, Tros, but I don’t know for how long! Skell says you are among enemies in Britain. He says they will not let you keep your prisoners or the longship. He bade me notice how the druids said no word to you. Tros laughed. He knew the druids took- no part in personal disputes, not interfering much in politics. The same law governed all their ceremony; nothing was allowed to interrupt it. “Go on,” he said. proposal?” “Skell said, if I go with you I shall be sold in open market by Caswallon’s order.” Tros knew that Skell knew better. Even should Caswallon claim the prisoners de- spite his recent gift of them to Tros, he could not dispose of them like cattle without incurring the wrath of the druids and the scorn of a whole countryside. But it was a likely enough lie for Skell to tell to a pris- oner, who might not know the British cus- toms, though she could speak the tongue. “So what did Skell suggest?” : “He said the Britons will come and loot these ships. They will kill the men and seize us women. Skell said, if I obey him, he will protect me and take me to Gaul.” Tros whistled softly, nodding to himself. There was no hurry; the longship floated; he could move her whenever he chose. Mean- while, Skell had broken the guest-law and he had excuse to kill him or to kick him over- board. Conops read his gesture, took a step toward Skell, drawing his knife eight gleam- ing inches from the sheath. “What was Skell’s womys) TROS seized him by the shoul- ques der. It was a dangerous game <e% to deal roughly with a guest in AN Briton. Skell had eaten from Tros’ “dish by invitation, all the crew had seen it. A prisoner’s word that Skell had comicbooks.com