midday
With the silken ease of the seal she swam , now at the surface , now below , her smooth muscles rolling softly beneath her clear skin -- a wordless song of health and happiness and grace . Presently she emerged and gave herself into the hands of the slave girl , who rubbed the body of her mistress with a sweet smelling semi-liquid substance contained in a golden urn , until the glowing skin was covered with a foamy lather , then a quick plunge into the pool , a drying with soft towels , and the bath was over . Typical of the life of the princess was the simple elegance of her bath -- no retinue of useless slaves , no pomp , no idle waste of precious moments . In another half hour her hair was dried and built into the strange , but becoming , coiffure of her station ; her leathern trappings , encrusted with gold and jewels , had been adjusted to her figure and she was ready to mingle with the guests that had been bidden to the midday function at the palace of The Warlord . As she left her apartments to make her way to the gardens where the guests were congregating , two warriors , the insignia of the House of the Prince of Helium upon their harness , followed a few paces behind her , grim reminders that the assassin 's blade may never be ignored upon Barsoom , where , in a measure , it counterbalances the great natural span of human life , which is estimated at not less than a thousand years . As they neared the entrance to the garden another woman , similarly guarded , approached them from another quarter of the great palace . As she neared them Tara of Helium turned toward her with a smile and a happy greeting , while her guards knelt with bowed heads in willing and voluntary adoration of the beloved of Helium .