The Worm Ouroboros by Eric Rücker Eddison (e book reader online .TXT) 📖
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it another should bear it thee full speedily, and with less compliment
and less sorrow than I.”
She nodded gravely, as who should say, Proceed. So, with what
countenance he might, he rehearsed his message, saying when it was
ended, “Thus, madam, saith Corinius the king: and thus he charged me
deliver it unto your highness.”
Mevrian heard him attentively with head erect. When he had done she
was silent a little, still studying him. Then she spake: “Methinks I
know thee now. Thou art Lord Gro of Goblinland that bearest me this
message.”
Gro answered, “Madam, he thou namest went years ago from this earth. I
am Lord Gro of Witchland.”
“So it seemeth, from thy talk,” said she; and was silent again.
The steady contemplation from that lady’s eyes was like a knife
scraping his tender skin, so that he was ill at ease well nigh past
bearing.
After a little she said, “I remember thee, my lord. Let me stir thy
memory. Eleven years ago, my brother went to war in Goblinland against
the Witches, and overcame them on Lormeron field. There slew he the
great King of Witchland in single combat, Gorice X., that until that
day was held for the mightiest man-atarms in all the world. My brother
was as then but eighteen winters old, and that was the first blazing
up of his great fame and glory. So King Gaslark made great feasting
and great rejoicing in Zajë Zaculo because of the ridding of his land
of the oppressors. I was at those revels. I saw thee there, my lord;
and being but a little maid of eleven summers, sat on thy knee in
Gaslark’s halls. Thou didst show me books, with pictures in strange
colours of gold and green and scarlet, of birds and beasts and distant
countries and wonders of the world. And I, being a little harmless
maid, thought thee good and kind of heart, and loved thee.”
She ceased, and Gro, like a man hath taken some drowsy drug, stood
looking on her confounded.
“Tell me,” said she, “of this Corinius. Is he such a fighter as men
say?”
“He is,” said Gro, “one of the most famousest captains that ever was.
That might not his worst enemies gainsay.”
Mevrian said, “A likely consort, think’st thou, for a lady of
Demonland? Remember, I have said nay to crowned kings. I would know
thy mind, for doubtless he is thy very familiar friend, since he made
thee his go-between.”
Gro saw that she mocked, and he was troubled at heart. “Madam,” said
he, and his voice shook somewhat, “take not in too great scorn this
vile part in me. Verily this I brought thee is the most shamefullest
message, and flatly against my will did I deliver it unto thee. Yet
with such constraint upon me, how could I choose but strike my
forehead into dauntless marble and word by word deliver my charge?”
“Thy tongue,” said Mevrian, “hath struck hot irons in my face. Go back
to thy master. If he look for an answer, tell him he may read it in
letters of gold above the gates.”
“Thy noble brother, madam,” said Gro, “is not here to make good that
answer.” And he came near to her, saying in a low voice so that only
they two should hear it, “Be not deceived. This Corinius is a naughty,
wicked, and luxurious youth, that will use thee without any respect if
once he break in by force into Krothering Castle. It were wiselier
carried to make some open show to receive him; so by fair words and
putting of him off thou mayst yet escape.”
But Mevrian said, “Thou hast mine answer. I have no ears to his
request. Say too that my cousin the Lord Spitfire hath healed his
wounds, and hath an army afoot shall whip these Witches from my gates
ere many days be passed by.”
So saying she returned in great scorn within the castle.
But the Lord Gro returned again to the camp and to Corinius, who asked
him how he had sped.
He answered, she did utterly refuse it.
“So,” said Corinius; “doth the puss thump me off? Then pause my hot
desires an instant, only the more thunderingly to clap it on. For I
will have her. And this coyness and pert rejection hath the more
fixedly confirmed me.”
XXII AURWATH AND SWITCH WATERHow the Lady Mevrian beheld from Krothering
Walls the Witchland Army and the Captains
thereof: and of the tidings brought her there of the
war in the west country, of Aurwath Field and
the great slaughter on Switchwater Way.
THE fourth day after these doings aforewrit, the Lady Mevrian walked
on the battlements of Krothering keep. A blustering wind blew from the
northwest. The sky was cloudless: clear blue overhead, all else
pearl-gray, and the air a little misty. Her old steward, stalwart and
soldierlike, greaved and helmed and clad in a plated jerkin of bull’s
hide, walked with her.
“The hour should be about striking,” said she. “‘Tis to-day or
tomorrow my Lord Zigg named to me when they were here a-guesting. If but
Goblinland keep tryst it were the prettiest feat, to take them so
pat.”
“As your ladyship might clap a gnat ‘twixt the palms of your two
hands,” said the old man; and he gazed again southward over the sea.
Mevrian set her gaze in the same quarter. “Nothing but mist and
spray,” she said after a few minutes’ searching. “I’m glad I sent Lord
Spitfire those two hundred horse. He must have every man can be
scraped up, for such a day. How thinkest thou, Ravnor: if King Gaslark
come not, hath Lord Spitfire force enow to cope them alone?”
Ravnor chuckled in his beard. “I think and my lord your brother were
here he should tell your highness ‘ay’ to that. Since first I bowled a
hoop, they taught me a Demon was undermatched against five Witches.”
She looked at him a little wistfully. “Ah,” she said, “were he at
home. And were Juss at home.” Then on a sudden she faced round
northward, pointing to the camp. “Were they at home,” she cried, “thou
shouldst not see outlanders insulting in arms on Krothering Side,
sending me shameful offers, caging me like a bird in this castle. Have
such things been in Demonland, until now?”
Now came a boy running along the battlements from the far side of the
tower, crying that ships were hove in sight sailing from the south and
east, “And they make for the firth.”
“Of what land?” said Mevrian, while they hastened back to look.
“What but Goblinland?” said Ravnor.
“O say not so too hastily!” cried she. They came round the turret
wall, and the sea and Stropardon Firth opened wide and void before
them. “I see nought,” she said; “or is yon flight of seamews the fleet
thou sawest?”
“He meaneth Thunderfirth,” said Ravnor, who had gone on ahead,
pointing to the west. “They shape their course toward Aurwath. ‘Tis
King Gaslark for sure. Mark but the blue and gold of his sails.”
Mevrian watched them, her gloved hand drumming nervously on the marble
battlement. Very stately she seemed, muffled in a flowing cloak of
white watered silk collared and lined with ermine. “Eighteen ships!”
she said. “I dreamed not Goblinland might make so great a force.”
“Your ladyship may see,” said Ravnor, walking back along the wall,
“whether the Witchlanders have slept while these ships sailed to
port.”
She followed and looked. Great stir there was in the Witchland army,
marshalling before the camp; there was coming and going and leaping on
horseback, and faintly on the wind their trumpets’ blare was borne to
Mevrian’s ears as she beheld them from her high watch-tower. The host
moved forth down the meadows, all orderly, aglitter with bronze and
steel. Southward they came, passing at length through the home-meads
of Krothering, so near that each man was plainly seen from the
battlements, as they rode beneath.
Mevrian leaned forward in an embrasure, one hand on either battlement
at her left and right. “I would know their names,” said she. “Thou,
that hast oft fared to the wars, mayst teach me. Gro I know, with a
long beard; and heart-heaviness it is to see a lord of Goblinland in
such a fellowship. What’s he beside him, yon bearded gallant, with a
winged helm and a diadem about it, like a king’s, and beareth a glaive
crimson-hafted? He looketh a proud one.”
The old man answered, “Laxus of Witchland: the same that was admiral
of their fleet against the Ghouls.”
“‘Tis a brave man to look on, and worthy a better cause. What’s he
rideth now below us, heading their horse: ruddy and swarthy and light
of build, hath a brow like the thundercloud, and weareth armour from
neck to toe?”
Ravnor answered, “Highness, I know him not certainly, the sons of
Corund so favour one another. But methinks ‘tis the young prince
Heming.”
Mevrian laughed. “Prince quotha?”
“So moveth the world, your highness. Since Gorice set Corund in
kingdom in Impland–”
Said Mevrian, “Name him prithee Heming Faz: I warrant they trap them
now with barbarous additions. Heming Faz, good lack! lording it now in
Demonland.
“The prime huff-cap of all,” said she after a little, “holdeth aback
it seemeth. O here he comes. Sweet heaven, what furious horsemanship!
Troth, and he can sit a horse, Ravnor, and hath the great figure of an
athlete. Look where he gallopeth bare-headed down the line. I ween
he’ll need more than golden curls to keep his head whole ere he have
done with Gaslark, ay, and our own folk gathering from the north. I
see he beareth his helm at the saddlebow. To ape us so!” she cried as
he drew nearer. “All silks and silver. Thou’dst have sworn none but a
Demon went to battle so costly apparelled. O, for a scissors to cut
his comb withal!”
So speaking she leaned forward all she might, to watch him. And he,
galloping by below, looked up; and marking her so watching, reined
mightily his great chestnut horse, throwing him with the check well
nigh on his haunches. And while the horse plunged and reared, Corinius
hailed her in a great voice, crying, “Mistress, good-morrow!” crying,
“Wish me victory, and swift to thine arms!”
So near below was he a-riding, she might scan the very lineaments of
his face and read it as he looked up and shouted to her that greeting.
He saluted with his sword, and spurred onward to overtake Gro and
Laxus in the van.
As if sickened on a sudden, or as if she had been ready to tread on a
deadly stinging adder, the Lady Mevrian leaned against the marble of
the battlements. Ravnor stepped towards her: “Is your ladyship ill?
Why, what’s the matter?”
“A silly qualm,” said Mevrian faintly. “If thou’dst medicine it, show
me the sheen of Spitfire’s spears to the northward. The blank land
dazzles me.”
So wore the afternoon. Twice and thrice Mevrian went upon the walls,
but could see nought save the sea and the firths and the mountain-bosomed plain fair and peaceful in the spring-time: no sign of men or
of war’s alarums, save only the masts of Gaslark’s ships seen over the
land’s brow three miles or more to the southwest. Yet she knew surely
that near those ships beside Aurwath harbour must be desperate
fighting toward, Gaslark the king engaged at heavy odds against Laxus
and Corinius
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