The Worm Ouroboros by Eric Rücker Eddison (e book reader online .TXT) 📖
- Author: Eric Rücker Eddison
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not north again to Galing after the battle when they are worsted by
us.’
“Now Gallandus nay-said this strongly, willing him to stand and abide
their onset; for being mountaineers they must certainly choose at
length, if we kept quiet, to attack us up the slope, and that were
mightily to our advantage. But Corsus, that still grew from day to day
more hard to deal with, would not hear him, and at last sticked not to
accuse him before them all (which was most false) that he did practise
to gain the command for himself, and had caused Corsus to be set upon
to have him and his sons murthered as they went from his lodging the
night before.
“And Corsus gave order for the march across their front as I have told
it you, O King; which indeed was the counsel of a madman. For
Spitfire, when he saw our column crossing the dale-head on his right,
gave order for the charge, took us i’ the flank, cut us in two, and in
two hours had our army smashed like an egg that is dropped from a
watch-tower on pavement of hard granite. Never saw I so evil a
destruction wrought on a great army. Hardly and in evil case we won
back to Owlswick with but seventeen hundred men, and of them some
hundreds wounded sore. And if two hundred fell o’ the other side, ‘tis
a wonder and past expectation, so great was Spitfire’s victory upon us
at the Rapes of Brima. And now was our woe worsened by fugitives
coming from the north, telling how Zigg had fallen upon the small
force that was left to hold the Stile and clean o’erwhelmed them. So
were we now shut up in Owlswick and close besieged by Spitfire and his
army, who but for the devilish folly of Corsus, had ne’er made head
against us.
“An ill night was that, O my Lord the King, in Owlswick by the sea.
Corsus was drunk, and both his sons, guzzling down goblet upon goblet
of the wine from Spitfire’s cellars in Owlswick. Till at last he was
fallen spewing on the floor betwixt the tables, and Gallandus standing
amongst us all, galled to the quick after this shame and ruin of our
fortunes, cried out and said, ‘Soldiers of Witchland, I am aweary of
this Corsus: a rioter, a lecher, a surfeiter, a brawler, a spiller of
armies, our own not our enemies’, who must bring us all to hell and we
take not order to prevent him.’ And he said, ‘I will go home again to
Witchland, and have no more share nor part in this shame.’ But all
they cried, ‘To the devil with Corsus! Be thou our general.’”
Gro was silent a minute. “O King,” he said at last, “if so it be that
the malice of the Gods and mine unfortune have brought me to that case
that I am part guilty of that which came about, blame me not overmuch.
Little I thought any word of mine should help Corsus and the going
forward of his bad enterprise. When all they called still upon
Gallandus, saying, ‘Ha, ha, Gallandus! weed out the weeds, lest the
best corn fester! Be thou our general,’ he took me aside to speak with
him; because he said he would take further judgement of me before he
would consent in so great a matter. And I, seeing deadly danger in
these disorders, and thinking that there only lay our safety if he
should have command who was both a soldier and whose mind was bent to
high attempts and noble enterprises, did egg him forward to accept it.
So that he, albeit unwilling, said yea to them at last. Which all
applauded; and Corsus said nought against it, being too sleepy-sodden
as we thought with drunkenness to speak or move.
“So for that night we went to bed. But in the morn, O King, was a
great clamour betimes in the main court in Owlswick. And I, running
forth in my shirt in the misty gray of dawn, beheld Corsus standing
forth in a gallery before Gallandus’s lodgings that were in an upper
chamber. He was naked to the waist, his hairy breast and arms to the
armpits clotted and adrip with blood, and in his hands two bloody
daggers. He cried in a great voice, ‘Treason in the camp, but I have
scotched it. He that will have Gallandus to his general, come up and I
shall mix his blood with his and make them familiar.”
By then had the King drawn on his silken hose, and a clean silken
shirt, and was about lacing his black doublet trimmed with diamonds.
“Thou tellest me,” said he, “two faults committed by Corsus. That
first he lost me a battle and nigh half his men, and next did murther
Gallandus in a spleen against him when he would have amended this.”
“Killing Gallandus in his sleep,” said Gro, “and sending him from the
shade into the house of darkness.”
“Well,” said the King, “there be two days in every month when whatever
is begun will never reach completion. And I think it was on such a day
he did execute his purpose upon Gallandus.”
“The whole camp,” said Lord Gro, “is up in a mutiny against him, being
marvellously offended at the murther of so worthy a man in arms. Yet
durst they not openly go against him; for his veterans guard his
person, and he hath let slice the guts out of some dozen or more that
were foremost in murmuring at him, so that the rest are afeared to
make open rebellion. I tell you, O King, your army of Demonland is in
great danger and peril. Spitfire sitteth down before Owlswick in
mickle strength, and there is no expectation that we shall hold out
long without supply of men. There is danger too lest Corsus do some
desperate act. I see not how, with so mutinous an army as his, he can
dare to attempt anything at all. Yet hath he his ears filled with the
continual sound of reputation, and the contempt which will be spread
to the disgrace of him if he repair not soon his fault on the Rapes of
Brima. It is thought that the Demons have no ships, and Laxus
cornmandeth the sea. Yet hard it is to make any going between betwixt
the fleet and Owlswick, and there be many goodly harbours and places
for building of ships in Demonland. If they can stop our relieving of
Corsus, and prevent Laxus with a fleet at spring, may be we shall be
driven to a great calamity.”
“How camest thou off?” said the King.
“O King,” answered Lord Gro, “after this murther in Owlswick I did
daily fear a fig or a knife, so for mine own health and Witchland’s
devised all the ways I could to come away. And gat at last to the
fleet by stealth and there took rede with Laxus, who is most hot upon
Corsus for this ill deed of his, whereby all our hopes may end in
smoke, and prayed me come to you for him as for myself and for all
true hearts of Witchland that do seek your greatness, O King, and not
decay, that you might send them succour ere all be shent. For surely
in Corsus some wild distraction hath overturned his old condition and
spilt the goodness you once did know in him. His luck hath gone from
him, and he is now one that would fall on his back and break his nose.
I pray you strike, ere Fate strike first and strike us into the
hazard.”
“Tush!” said the King. “Do not lift me before I fall. ‘Tis supper
time. Attend me to the banquet.”
By now was Gorice the King in full festival attire, with his doublet
of black tiffany slashed with black velvet and broidered o’er with
diamonds, black velvet hose cross-gartered with silver-spangled bands
of silk, and a great black bearskin mantle and collar of ponderous
gold. The Iron crown was on his head. He took down from his chamber
wall, as they went by, a sword hafted of blue steel with a pommel of
bloodstone carved like a dead man’s skull. This he bare naked in his
hand, and they came into the banquet hall.
They that were there rose to their feet in silence, gazing expectant
on the King where he stood between the pillars of the door with that
sharp sword held on high, and the jewelled crab of Witchland ablaze
above his brow. But most they marked his eyes. Surely the light in the
eyes of the King under his beetle brows was like a light from the
underskies shed upward from the pit of hell.
He said no word, but with a gesture beckoned Corinius. Corinius stood
up and came to the King, slowly, as a nightwalker, obedient to that
dread gaze. His cloak of skyblue silk was flung back from his
shoulders. His chest, broad as a bull’s, swelled beneath the shining
silver scales of his byrny, that was short-sleeved, leaving his strong
arms bare to view with golden rings about the wrists. Proudly he stood
before the King, his head firm planted above his mighty throat and
neck; his proud luxurious mouth, made for winecups and for ladies’
lips, firm set above the square shaven chin and jaw; the thick fair
curls of his hair bound with black bryony; the insolence that dwelt in
his dark blue eyes tamed for the while in face of that green bale-light
that rose and fell in the steadfast gaze of the King.
When they had so stood silent while men might count twenty breaths,
the King spake saying: “Corinius, receive the name of the kingdom of
Demonland which thy Lord and King give thee, and make homage to me
thereof.”
The breath of amazement went about the hall. Corinius kneeled. The
King gave him that sword which he held in his hand, bare for the
slaughter, saying, “With this sword, O Corinius, shalt thou wear out
this blemish and blot that until now rested upon thee in mine eye.
Corsus hath proved haggard. He hath made miss in Demonland. His
sottish folly hath shut him up in Owlswick and lost me half his force.
His jealousy, too maliciously and bloodily bent against my friends
‘stead of mine enemies, hath lost me a good captain. The wonderful
disorder and distresses of his army must, if thou amend it not, swing
all our fortune at one chop from bliss to bale. If this be rightly
handled by thee, one great stroke shall change every deal. Go thou,
and prove thy demerits.”
The Lord Corinius stood up, holding the sword point-downward in his
hand. His face flamed red as an autumn sky when leaden clouds break
apart on a sudden westward and the sun looks out between. “My Lord the
King,” said he, “give me where I may sit down: I will make where I may
lie down. Ere another moon shall wax again to the full I will set
forth from Tenemos. If I do not shortly remedy for you our fortunes
which this bloody fool hath laboured to ruinate, spit in my face, O
King, withhold from me the light of your countenance, and put spells
upon me shall destroy and blast me for ever.”
XIXTHREMNIR’S HEUGH
Of the Lord Spitfire’s besieging of the witches in
his own castle of Owlswick; and how he did
battle against Corinius under Thremnir’s Heugh,
and the men of Witchland won the day.
LORD Spitfire sat in his pavilion before Owlswick in mickle
discontent. A brazier
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