The Worm Ouroboros by Eric Rücker Eddison (e book reader online .TXT) 📖
- Author: Eric Rücker Eddison
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Prezmyra laughed. “F’Tis not all so bad,” she said, “and yet it makes
me angry. The enterprise he commends, up to the hilt, and I have his
leave to broach it to the King, as his mouthpiece, and press it with
him out of all ho. But for the leading on’t, he will not have it, he.
Corsus must have it, or Corinius. Stay, let me read it out,” and
standing near one of the lights she took a parchment from her bosom.
“Pooh! ‘tis too fond; I will not shame my lord to read it, even to
thee.”
“Well,” said Gro, “were I the King, Corund should be my general to put
down Demonland. Corsus he may send, for he hath done great work in his
day, but in mine own judgement I like him not for such an errand.
Corinius he hath not yet forgiven for his fault at the banquet a year
ago.”
“Corinius!” said Prezmyra. “So his butchery of mine own dear land
goeth not only without reward, but hath not so much as bought him back
to favour, thou thinkest?”
“I think not,” said Lord Gro. “Besides, he is mad wroth to have
plucked that prickly fruit but for another’s eating. He bare himself
so presumptuous-ill in the hall tonight, gleeking and galling at
Laxus, slapping of his sword, and with so many more shameless braves
and wanton fashions, and worst of all his most openly seeking to toy
with Sriva, i’ this first month of her betrothal unto Laxus, it will
be a wonder if blood be not spilt betwixt them ere the night be done.
Methinks he is not i’ the mood to take the field again without some
sure reward; and methinks the King, guessing his mind, would not offer
him a new enterprise and so give him the glory of refusing it.”
They stood near the arched gateway that opened on the terrace from the
inner court. Music still sounded from the great banquet hall of Gorice
XI. Under the archway and in the shadows of the huge buttresses of the
walls it was as though the elements of gloom, expelled from the bright
circles round the flamboys, huddled with sister glooms to make a
double darkness.
“Well, my lord,” said Prezmyra, “doth thy wisdom bless my resolve?”
“Whate’er it be, yes, because it is thime, O Queen.”
“Whate’er it be!” she cried. “Dost hang in doubt on’t? What else, but
seek audience with the King as my first care in the morning. Have I
not my lord’s bidding so far?”
“And if thy zeal outrun his bidding in one particular?” said Gro.
“Why, just!” said she. “And if I bring thee not word ere tomorrow’s
noon that order is given for Demonland, and my Lord Corund named his
general for that sailing, ay, and letters sealed for his straight
recall from Orpish–”
“Hist!” said Gro. “Steps i’ the court.”
They turned towards the archway, Prezmyra singing under her breath:
Nor he that still his Mistresse payes.
For she is thrall’d therefore;
Nor he that payes not, for he sayes
Within, shee’s worth no more.
Is there then no kinde of men
Whom I may freely prove?
I will vent that humour then
In mine own selfe love.
Corinius met them in the gateway, coming from the banquet house. He
halted full in their path to peer closely through the darkness at
Prezmyra, so that she felt the heat of his breath, heavy with wine. It
was too dark to know faces but he knew her by her stature and bearing.
“Cry thee mercy, madam,” he said. “Methought an instant ‘twas—but no
matter. Your best of rest.”
So saying he made way for her with a deep obeisance, jostling roughly
against Gro with the same motion. Gro, little minded for a quarrel,
gave him the wall, and followed Prezmyra into the inner court.
The Lord Corinius sat him down on the nearest of the benches, leaned
his stalwart back luxuriously upon the cushions and there rested,
thripping his fingers and singing to himself:
What an Ass is he
Waits a woman’s leisure
For a minute’s pleasure.
And perhaps may be
Gull’d at last, and lose her;
What an ass is he?
What need I to care
For a woman’s favour?
If another have her.
Why should I despair?
When for gold and labour
I can have my share.
If I chance to see
One that’s brown, I love her.
Till I see another
Browner is than she;
For I am a lover
Of my liberty.
A rustle behind him on his left made him turn his head. A figure stole
out of the deep shadow of the buttress nearest the archway. He leapt
up and was first in the gate, blocking it with open arms. “Ah,” he
cried, “so titmice roost i’ the shade, ha? What ransom shall I have of
thee for making me keep empty tryst last night? Ay, and wast creeping
hence to make me a fool once more the night-long and I had not caught
thee.”
The lady laughed. “Last might my father kept me by him; and tonight,
my lord, wouldst thou not have been fitly served for thy shameless
ditty? Is that a sweet serenade for ladies’ ears? Sing it again, to
thy liberty, and show thyself an ass.”
“Thou art very bold to provoke me, madam, with not even a star to be
thy witness if I quite thee for’t. These flamboys are old roisterers,
grown gray in scenes of riot. They shall not blab.”
“Nay, if thou speakest in wine I’m gone, my lord;” and as he took a
step towards her, “and I return not, here or otherwise, but fling thee
off for ever,” she said. “I will not be entreated like a serving-maid.
I have borne too long with thy forced soldier fashions.”
Corimius caught his arms about her, lifting her against his broad
chest so that her toes scarce kept footing on the ground. “O Sriva,”
he said thickly, bending his face to hers, “dost think to light so
great a fire, and after walk through it and not be scorched thereat?”
Her arms were close pinioned at her sides in that strong embrace. She
seemed to swoon, as a lily swooning in the flaming noon-day. Corinius
bent down his face and kissed her fiercely, saying, “By all the sweets
that ever darkness tasted, thou art mime tonight.”
“Tomorrow,” she said, as if stifled.
But Corinius said, “My dearest happiness, tonight.”
“My dear lord,” said the Lady Sriva softly, “sith thou hast made such
a conquest of my love, be not a harsh and forward conqueror. I swear
to thee by all the dreadful powers that clip the earth about, there’s
matter in it I should to my father this night, nay more, now on the
instant. ‘Twas this only made me avoid thee but now: this, and no
light conceit to vex thee.”
“He can attend our pleasure,” said Corinius. “‘Tis an old man, and oft
sitteth late at his book.”
“How? and thou leftest him carousing?” said she. “There’s that I must
impart to him ere the wine quite o’erflow his wits. Even this delay,
how sweet soe’er to us, is dangerous.”
But Corinius said, “I will not let thee go.”
“Well,” said she, “be a beast, then. But know I’ll cry on a rescue
shall make all Carcë run to find us, and my brothers, ay, and Laxus,
if he be a man, shall deal thee bitter payment for thy violence toward
me. But if thou wilt be thy noble self, and respect my love with
friendship, let me go. And if thou come secretly to my chamber door,
an hour past midnight; I think thou’lt find no bolt to it.”
“Ha, thou swearest it?” he said.
She answered, “Else may steep destruction swallow me quick.”
“Am hour past midnight. And until then ‘tis a year in my desires,”
said he.
“There spoke my noble lover,” said Sriva, giving him her mouth once
more. And swiftly she fared through the shadowy archway and across the
court to where in the north gallery her father Corsus had his chamber.
The Lord Corinius went back to his seat, and there reclined for a
space in slothful ease, humming to an old tune:
My Mistris is a shittle-cock.
Compos’d of Cork and feather;
Each Battledore sets on her dock.
And bumps her on the leather.
But cast her off which way you Will.
She will requoile to another still—
Fa, la, la, la, la, la.
He stretched his arms and yawned. “Well, Laxus, my chubfaced meacock,
this medicine hath eased powerfully my discontent. ‘Tis but fair, sith
I must miss my crown, that I should have thy mistress. And to say
true, seeing how base, little, and ordinary a kingdom is this of
Pixyland, and what a delectable sweet wagtail this Sriva, whom besides
I have these two years past ne’er looked on but my mouth watered: why,
I may hold me part paid for the nonce; until I weary of her.
Love is all my life.
For it keeps me doing:
Yet my love and wooing
Is not for a Wife—
“Am hour past midnight, ha? What wine’s best for lovers? I’ll go drink
a stoup, and so to dice with some of these lads to pass away the time
till then.”
XVITHE LADY SRIVA’S EMBASSAGE
How the Duke Corsus thought it proper to
commit an errand of state unto his daughter: and
how she prospered therein.
SRIVA fared swiftly to her father’s closet, and finding her lady
mother sewing in her chair, nodding towards sleep, two candles at her
left and right, she said, “My lady mother, there’s a queen’s crown
waits the plucking. ‘Twill drop into the foreign woman’s lap if thou
and my father bestir you not. Where is he? Still i’ the banquet house?
Thou or I must fetch him on the instant.”
“Fie!” cried Zenambria. “How thou’st startled me! Fall somewhat into a
slower speech, my girl. With such wild sudden talk I know not what
thou meanest nor what’s the matter.”
But Sriva answered, “Matter of state. Thou goest not? Good, then I
fetch him. Thou shalt hear all anon, mother;” and so turned towards
the door. Nor might all her mother’s crying out upon the scandal of
their so returning to the banquet long past the hour of the women’s
withdrawal turn her from this. So that the Lady Zenambria, seeing her
so wilful, thought it less evil to go herself; and so went, and in
awhile returned with Corsus.
Corsus sat in his great chair over against his lady wife, while his
daughter told her tale.
“Twice and thrice,” said she, “they passed me by, as near as I stand
to thee, O my father, she leaning most familiarly on the arm of her
curled philosopher. ‘Twas plain they had never a thought that any was
by to overhear them. She said so and so;” and therewith Sriva told all
that was spoke by the Lady Prezmyra as to an expedition to Demomland,
and as to her purposed speaking with the King, and as to her design
that Corund should be his general for that sailing, and letters sealed
on the morrow for his straight recall from Orpish.
The Duke listened unmoved, breathing heavily, leaning heavily forward,
his elbow on his knees, one great fat hand twisting and pushing back
the sparse gray growth of his moustachios. His eyes shifted with
sullen glance about the chamber, and his blabber cheeks, scarlet from
the feast, flushed to a deeper hue.
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