A Victim of Yuri

But the malevolence of the jailer was not directed against me, for as he turned away, after locking me in my cell, he softly radiated the joyous information; “Any one who is an enemy of Prince Yuri has nothing to fear from Poblath.”

Then he was gone. Evidently, in spite of Yuri’s popularity, there were some Cupians who saw through him. And Poblath, the mango, must be one of these. Shortly afterwards he returned with food, and spoke softly as he placed it before me.

“‘Walls have antennae,’” he quoted, “so I will not radiate loudly to you. Be discreet. Do nothing to anger Yuri. Bide your time. And if I can be of any particular service, let me know. ‘Common enmity maketh close friends.’”

Evidently Poblath was greatly given to Porovian proverbs. About one parth (i.e., Porovian hour) later the mango brought Prince Yuri to my cell. Yuri had come to gloat over me and to give in my presence his directions for my discomfiture.

“Poblath,” he declared, “this man Cabot is a dangerous criminal. The charges against him are so serious that I must lay them in person before King Kew. Cabot is a deaf-mute, born without antennae; but he has concocted, with diabolical cleverness, some artificial electrical antennae. No one is to be permitted to talk with him; and, to make sure of this, I now command you to take from him his apparatus.”

My jaw dropped with horror at the thought; but the jailer quickly came to my rescue.

“Oh, sire,” he said, “the ancient law! I will see that no communication is had with him, but the ancient law prohibits depriving any person of his antennae.”

Yuri replied: “This is not a person; it is an animal. And furthermore, his apparatus is not antennae, strictly speaking.”

Poblath was equal to the occasion. “The ancient law applies equally to animals, as you well know, my prince. And, as for his antennae, they are antennae to me, unless King Kew rules otherwise.”

“Leave his antennae, then,” snapped Yuri, “and remove his belt.”

But Poblath was obdurate, and stood upon his rights. “If his belt serves his antennae, I demand a kingly ruling. I have spoken.”

Yuri scowled.

“A ruling you shall have,” he gritted, as he turned away. “Meanwhile, keep the prisoner by himself.”

“Your will is law,” Poblath answered, with mock meekness.

So at last I had a friend in Cupia. When the mango returned to bring me my supper I determined to take him into my confidence.

“Poblath,” I said, as a feeler, “who rescued the Princess Lilla from the Formians?”

“It was Prince Yuri,” he replied. “It is the one decent act of his life, though his beautiful cousin does not seem to be particularly grateful to him for it.”

“Then she is not yet betrothed to him?” I asked.

“Not yet, nor ever!” was the emphatic answer.

“Poblath,” I declared, “Yuri did not rescue the princess. I did it. Can you get word to her that I am here?”

“By the blue-horned woofus!” he ejaculated. “Can I? Just watch me!”

“If you straighten this out,” I said, “I shall be most eternally grateful.”

At which the mango quoted sententiously. “‘He who expects gratitude hath not conferred a favor.’” Then he hurried away.

Late that evening he returned to my cell with a most exquisite specimen of Cupian femininity, whom he introduced as Bthuh, maid in waiting to Princess Lilla.

If Lilla was all that was desirable in a blonde, Bthuh was all that was desirable in a brunette; full lips, clear olive skin, dark languorous eyes, a seductive form. A chestnut baby-doll, with smoldering southern passion underneath. She was a red rose, overripe. Although my allegiance never wavered for an instant from the lovely Lilla, yet I must confess that the presence of this exotic beauty strangely stirred me. And she smiled at me, as though she thought me not half bad, either.

Then she spoke: “I am betrothed to Poblath, although secretly because my rank of sarkari (duchess) should prevent an alliance with a commoner. That brink, Yuri, (this was a particularly choice epithet to apply to Yuri, for “brink” is the name of the little hopping lizard that infests the concrete roads)—that brink has been trying to make love to me, though in a most unflattering way, in spite of my rank. His standing is such that I dare not oppose him openly; but Poblath and I are friends of yours, since you are an enemy of our enemy. You may tell us your story without fear.”

So I told them in detail my entire adventures on this planet, from my finding myself beside the silver lake on the day of the explosion in my Boston laboratory, down to date, omitting of course the more intimate passages between myself and the Princess Lilla. When I finished, I could see that I was assured of their cooperation; not only because of our common hatred of Prince Yuri, but also because of the merits of my own case.

“The next step,” Poblath announced, “is for Bthuh to tell her mistress that you are here. Once the princess knows this, we can be sure that she will confide in Bthuh, and thus we can learn definitely where matters stand.”

Then the two lovers withdrew, leaving me to spend a far happier night than I had had any reason to expect.

The next day passed uneventfully. Evidently Yuri was having some difficulty in getting his desired ruling from the king relative to my antennae.

Nightfall again brought with it the dark and beautiful Bthuh, to her tryst with the mango, Poblath. And Bthuh brought news of the princess, who sent word to be of good cheer, for her father, the king, was to inspect the Kuana jail on the morrow.

Just what good this would do me I could not see; but I took Lilla’s word for it that this was good tidings.

Preparatory to the visit, I obtained materials from Poblath and shaved.

On the next day, the third day of my imprisonment, Kew XII, King of Cupia, attended by his suite, inspected the Kuana jail, and in due course was conducted to my cell. The king was a broad shouldered, narrow hipped, athletic figure, looking like a well preserved earth-man of about fifty years of age. His complexion was bronzed, his nose slightly aquiline, and his hair iron gray, short and furry. His eyes were black and piercing, and his mouth and jaw firm. Justice, but not mercy, sat upon his kingly brow.

He and I studied each other calmly for a few moments. And then I lost my calm, for in the royal suite stood my princess! I was about to cry out to her when her expression stayed me; so instead I merely acknowledged her presence with a bow, and said: “My life is, as ever, at the service of the Princess Lilla.”

Whereat the king turned to his daughter and asked: “Who is this man who seems to know you, and who claims the honor of being a servitor of the royal house?”

But before she could answer, one of the suite stepped forward and declared: “I know the prisoner, sire, and he is none other than Myles Cabot, a great scientist from the planet Minos, recently feasted and honored at the University of Formia. Surely his imprisonment must be a mistake.”

My new defender was the Cupian professor who had stood at the head table at the banquet in my honor my first night in Mooni.

“Then,” declared the king, “this must be the Cabot of whom Prince Yuri spoke, urging us to consent that he be deprived of his artificial antennae. A great scientist he must be to have designed such an apparatus; but Yuri assures us that he is likewise a great criminal and a dangerous enemy of the Kew dynasty, of which facts Yuri has promised us full particulars shortly. Speak, man, and tell us your version of your crimes.”

I hesitated, but the princess answered my unspoken thought: “My good fellow, you need not fear to tell everything to my father, the king.”

So I told. I told the whole story of my life on Poros, omitting nothing except my love for the Princess Lilla. It was nearly a whole parth in the telling, and all those present hung on every word.

When I was done, the king, amazed, turned to his daughter and inquired: “Can this be true? Is the crown prince such a scoundrel that he would abduct the princess royal, and then falsely claim the credit for her rescue?”

To which Lilla replied: “I know nothing of Prince Yuri’s complicity in my abduction, though it seems to fit in with his other acts. But I do know that he has claimed undeserved credit, which is an unforgivable breach of the Cupian ethics of fair play.”

The king called to one of his courtiers: “Go, forthwith, and order the prince to repair immediately to our quarters. We shall sift this matter to the bottom. And”—turning on me—“if your story proves false, it will go hard with you; but if your story proves to be true, it will go hard with Prince Yuri.”

And he swept from my presence, followed by his suite. And last of all by the Princess Lilla, who turned and smiled sweetly on me, just as she was leaving.

No further word came from the palace all that day, but late that afternoon Prince Yuri visited the jail with a number of his courtiers. He was furiously angry. Poblath was with him, endeavoring to calm him down and to divert him from seeing me, but Yuri was insistent.

As the door of my cell was flung open, the prince started to abuse me.

“How dare you malign a member of the ruling house?” he thundered. “How dare you lie, and involve the Princess Lilla in your lies? I have a mind to kill you on the spot, and thus rid the planet of your foul presence.”

And he would have gone on if I had not had a sudden inspiration.

“Yuri,” said I, “you woofus, brink, mathlab! I’ll—get—your number!”

The effect was electrical. The prince’s face went white with rage. Then he calmed, and a smile overspread his face.

“Pardon me, sir, but I’ll get yours,” he replied with a low bow.

Poblath interjected: “You poor fool, Cabot! Prince Yuri is the best duelist in all Cupia.”

“‘A brink may hop once too often beneath the kerkool,’” I quoted. “But come, I see that we do not rush at each other as they do in Formia. What are supposed to be the formalities here?”

“You will learn soon enough,” Yuri growled, scowling ominously.

But Poblath more kindly explained: “Each of you chooses an attendant, and then the attendants tie you together, and you kill with knives.”

This reminded me of Mark Twain’s “Gatling guns at fifteen paces.” I chose Poblath, and Yuri chose one of his own suite. A peculiar harness was then produced, consisting of a double belt. One half of this was buckled around Yuri’s waist; but when they came to buckle me into the other half, my radio apparatus, which was concealed beneath my toga, furnished an obstacle, and so there was nothing for me to do but take it off. This, of course, would render me entirely deaf during the fight, which fact might prove somewhat disadvantageous.

But before they took away my hearing they explained fully to me just how the duel would be conducted. And I cautioned Poblath to keep a firm hold of my apparatus and not let it get into the hands of any of Yuri’s henchmen even for an instant.

“Otherwise,” I said, “the ancient law might easily become violated.”

Then I shed my antennae, and stood once more, an earth-man, ready to battle for my existence against the inhabitants of Poros.

We were belted together, face to face, waist touching waist. Each of us held a short sharp dagger in his left hand—Cupians being a left-handed race—while the right hand of each of us seized the left wrist of his opponent. The idea was for me to try and stab Yuri to death before he could stab me, and vice versa.

Yuri had the advantage on the offensive, for he held his dagger in his strong hand, whereas I held mine in my weak. But conversely, I had the advantage on the defensive, for it was my strongest hand which warded him off.

No spoken signal could be given, because of my receiving set being off. So Poblath held up his hand and both of us watched it. Then when he let it fall we started to wrestle.

Yuri might be the most perfect physical specimen in all Cupia, but I was from a planet where the greater attraction of gravity necessitated a greater strength on the average. However, I soon perceived that these Porovian duels are not to be won by strength alone. There were tricks and feints by which one’s opponent could be tired out. And I was a mere novice, while Yuri was regarded as the most expert duelist on all Poros.

We tumbled and rolled about the floor, with first his knife and then mine near its mark. At last we both struggled to our feet again and swayed back and forth for a moment.

And then, gradually, Yuri’s dagger began to descend. Strain as I would, I could not stay its slow and steady progress toward my heart. A gleam of exultation filled the eye of my opponent. The point of his knife pricked my breast, and began to enter. In a few seconds it would be over and I should fall a victim to an alien race.

A strange train of ideas ran through my affrighted mind: “Alien race. Japanese. Jiujitsu. The very thing! The ulnar nerve!”

Suddenly shifting my grip on his wrist, I forced my thumb into the sensitive spot; and instantly his knife, about to pierce my heart, dropped instead from his nerveless fingers and clattered harmlessly to the floor.

And now what was the etiquette of the situation?

I turned my glance from Yuri’s eyes to those of Poblath and saw the latter frantically motioning me to kill. To kill! Nothing would give me greater pleasure.

But as I returned to the task, I noted the Princess Lilla standing in the crowd, with a look of terror on her face. Her appealing eyes showed that she was speaking to me, probably urging me to spare the prince.

So she cared for the scoundrel after all!

In disgust, I threw my own knife into a corner, and signaled to Poblath to remove the belts. He did so, reproachfully, and then handed me my receiving set.

Something prompted me to put it on in haste, and it is well that I did so, for as I snapped the ear phones in place, I heard Yuri shout: “Quick, two of you cover Cabot and the mango.”

Instantly each of us was forced to the wall with a sharp broadsword at our breast; while Yuri seized the princess, and surrounded by the rest of his suite, made a hasty exit from the cell room.