Chapter 12: 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.