It was while he was thus pleasurably engaged that Ko-tan returned. As Tarzan, attracted by the movement of the hangings through which the king entered, turned and faced him he was almost shocked by the remarkable alteration of the king’s appearance. His face was livid; his hands trembled as with palsy, and his eyes were wide as with fright. His appearance was one apparently of a combination of consuming anger and withering fear. Tarzan looked at him questioningly.
“You have had bad news, Ko-tan?” he asked.
The king mumbled an unintelligible reply. Behind there thronged into the apartment so great a number of warriors that they choked the entranceway. The king looked apprehensively to right and left. He cast terrified glances at the ape-man and then raising his face and turning his eyes upward he cried: “Jad-ben-Otho be my witness that I do not this thing of my own accord.” There was a moment’s silence which was again broken by Ko-tan. “Seize him,” he cried to the warriors about him, “for Lu-don, the high priest, swears that he is an impostor.”
To have offered armed resistance to this great concourse of warriors in the very heart of the palace of their king would have been worse than fatal. Already Tarzan had come far by his wits and now that within a few hours he had had his hopes and his suspicions partially verified by the vague admissions of O-lo-a he was impressed with the necessity of inviting no mortal risk that he could avoid.
“Stop!” he cried, raising his palm against them. “What is the meaning of this?”
“Lu-don claims he has proof that you are not the son of Jad-ben-Otho,” replied Ko-tan. “He demands that you be brought to the throneroom to face your accusers. If you are what you claim to be none knows better than you that you need have no fear in acquiescing to his demands, but remember always that in such matters the high priest commands the king and that I am only the bearer of these commands, not their author.”
Tarzan saw that Ko-tan was not entirely convinced of his duplicity as was evidenced by his palpable design to play safe.
“Let not your warriors seize me,” he said to Ko-tan, “lest Jad-ben-Otho, mistaking their intention, strike them dead.” The effect of his words was immediate upon the men in the front rank of those who faced him, each seeming suddenly to acquire a new modesty that compelled him to self-effacement behind those directly in his rear—a modesty that became rapidly contagious.
The ape-man smiled. “Fear not,” he said, “I will go willingly to the audience chamber to face the blasphemers who accuse me.”
Arrived at the great throneroom a new complication arose. Ko-tan would not acknowledge the right of Lu-don to occupy the apex of the pyramid and Lu-don would not consent to occupying an inferior position while Tarzan, to remain consistent with his high claims, insisted that no one should stand above him, but only to the ape-man was the humor of the situation apparent.
To relieve the situation Ja-don suggested that all three of them occupy the throne, but this suggestion was repudiated by Ko-tan who argued that no mortal other than a king of Pal-ul-don had ever sat upon the high eminence, and that furthermore there was not room for three there.
“But who,” said Tarzan, “is my accuser and who is my judge?”
“Lu-don is your accuser,” explained Ko-tan.
“And Lu-don is your judge,” cried the high priest.
“I am to be judged by him who accuses me then,” said Tarzan. “It were better to dispense then with any formalities and ask Lu-don to sentence me.” His tone was ironical and his sneering face, looking straight into that of the high priest, but caused the latter’s hatred to rise to still greater proportions.
It was evident that Ko-tan and his warriors saw the justice of Tarzan’s implied objection to this unfair method of dispensing justice. “Only Ko-tan can judge in the throneroom of his palace,” said Ja-don, “let him hear Lu-don’s charges and the testimony of his witnesses, and then let Ko-tan’s judgment be final.”
Ko-tan, however, was not particularly enthusiastic over the prospect of sitting in trial upon one who might after all very possibly be the son of his god, and so he temporized, seeking for an avenue of escape. “It is purely a religious matter,” he said, “and it is traditional that the kings of Pal-ul-don interfere not in questions of the church.”
“Then let the trial be held in the temple,” cried one of the chiefs, for the warriors were as anxious as their king to be relieved of all responsibility in the matter. This suggestion was more than satisfactory to the high priest who inwardly condemned himself for not having thought of it before.
“It is true,” he said, “this man’s sin is against the temple. Let him be dragged thither then for trial.”
“The son of Jad-ben-Otho will be dragged nowhere,” cried Tarzan. “But when this trial is over it is possible that the corpse of Lu-don, the high priest, will be dragged from the temple of the god he would desecrate. Think well, then, Lu-don before you commit this folly.”
His words, intended to frighten the high priest from his position failed utterly in consummating their purpose. Lu-don showed no terror at the suggestion the ape-man’s words implied.
“Here is one,” thought Tarzan, “who, knowing more of his religion than any of his fellows, realizes fully the falsity of my claims as he does the falsity of the faith he preaches.”
He realized, however, that his only hope lay in seeming indifference to the charges. Ko-tan and the warriors were still under the spell of their belief in him and upon this fact must he depend
