"
"Your father must have been a mighty warrior!" I said. "I have
known most of the warriors of Barsoom in my time; doubtless I knew
him. Who was he?"
"My father was--"
"Come, calots!" cried the rough voice of a guard. "To the slaughter
with you," and roughly we were hustled to the steep incline that
led to the chambers far below which let out upon the arena.
The amphitheatre, like all I had ever seen upon Barsoom, was built
in a large excavation. Only the highest seats, which formed the
low wall surrounding the pit, were above the level of the ground.
The arena itself was far below the surface.
Just beneath the lowest tier of seats was a series of barred cages
on a level with the surface of the arena. Into these we were
herded. But, unfortunately, my youthful friend was not of those
who occupied a cage with me.
Directly opposite my cage was the throne of Issus. Here the horrid
creature squatted, surrounded by a hundred slave maidens sparkling
in jewelled trappings. Brilliant cloths of many hues and strange
patterns formed the soft cushion covering of the dais upon which
they reclined about her.
On four sides of the throne and several feet below it stood three
solid ranks of heavily armed soldiery, elbow to elbow. In front
of these were the high dignitaries of this mock heaven--gleaming
blacks bedecked with precious stones, upon their foreheads the
insignia of their rank set in circles of gold.
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