The Worm Ouroboros by Eric Rücker Eddison (english readers txt) 📕

fought the Demons in the glare and watery mist, greatly against great

odds, until all were smitten to earth save those two lords alone, Juss

and Brandoch Daha.

Now stood King Gorice on the outer battlements of Carcë, all armed in

his black armour inlaid with gold; and he beheld those twain how they

fought back to back, and how the Witches beset them on every side yet

nowise might prevail against them. And the King said unto Gro that was

by him on the wall, “Mine eyes dazzle in the mist and torchlight. What

be these that maintain so bloody an advantage upon my kemperie-men?”

Gro answered him, “Surely, O King, these be none other than Lord Juss

and Lord Brandoch Daha of Krothering.”

The King said, “So by degrees cometh my sending home to me. For by my

art I have intelligence, albeit not certainly, that Goldry was taken

by my sending; so have I my desire on him I hold most in hate. And

these, saved by their enchantments from like ruin, have been driven

mad to rush into the open mouth of my vengeance.” And when he had

gazed awhile, the King sneered and said unto Gro, “A sweet sight, to

behold an hundred of my ablest men flinch and duck before these twain.

Till now methought there was a sword in Witchland, and methought

Corinius and Corund not simple braggarts without power or heart, as

here appeareth, since like boys well birched they do cringe from the

shining swords of Juss and the vile upstart from Krothering.”

But Corinius, who stood no longer in the battle but by the King, full

of spleen and his wrist all bloody, cried out, “You do us wrong, O

King. Juster it were to praise my great deed in ambushing this mighty

company of our enemies and putting them all to the slaughter. And if I

prevailed not against this Brandoch Daha your majesty needs not to

marvel, since a greater than I, Gorice X. of memory ever glorious, was

lightly conquered by him. Wherin methinks I am the luckier, to have

but a gored wrist and not my death. As for these twain, they be

stickfrees, on whom no point or edge may bite. And nought were more to

be looked for, since we deal with such a sorcerer as this Juss.”

“Rather,” said the King, “are ye all grown milksops. But I have no

further stomach for this interlude, but straight will end it.”

Therewith the King called to him the old Duke Corsus, bidding him take

nets and catch the Demons therein. And Corsus, faring forth with nets,

by sheer weight of numbers and with the death of near a score of the

Witches at length gat this performed, and Lord Juss and Lord Brandoch

Daha well tangled in the nets, and lapped about as silkworms in their

cocoons, and so drawn into Carcë. Soundly were they bumped along the

ground, and glad enow were the Witches to have gotten those great

fighters scotched at last. For utterly spent were Corund and his men,

and fain to drop for very weariness.

So when they were gotten into Carcë, the King let search with torches

and bring in them of Witchland that lay hurt before the walls; and any

Demons or Goblins that were happed upon in like case he let slay with

the sword. And the Lord Juss and the Lord Brandoch Daha, still lapped

tightly in their nets, he let fling into a corner of the inner court

of the palace like two bales of damaged goods, and set a guard upon

them until morning.

As the lords of Witchland were upon going to bed they beheld westward

by the sea a red glow, and tongues of fire burning in the night.

Corinius said unto Lord Gro, “Lo where thy Goblins burn their ships,

lest we pursue them as they flee shamefully homeward in the ship they

keep from the burning. One ship sufficeth, for most of them be dead.”

And Corinius betook him sleepily to bed, pausing on the way to kick at

the Lord Brandoch Daha, that lay safely swathed in his net powerless

as then to do him harm.

GUESTS OF THE KING IN CARCE

Of the two banquet halls that were in Carce, the

old and the new, and of the entertainment given

by King Gorice XII. in the one hail to Lord Juss

and Lord Brandoch Daha and in the other to the

Prince La Fireez; and of their leave-taking when

the banquet was done.

THE morrow of that battle dawned fair on Carcë. Folk lay long abed

after their toil, and until the sun was high nought stirred before the

walls. But towards noon came forth a band sent by King Gorice to bring

in the spoil; and they took up the bodies of the slain and laid them

in howe on the right bank of the river Druima half a mile below Carcë,

Witches, Demons, and Goblins in one grave together, and raised up a

great howe over them.

Now was the sun’s heat strong, but the shadow of the great keep rested

still on the terrace without the western wall of the palace. Cool and

redolent of ease and soft repose was that terrace, paved with

flagstones of red jasper, with spleenwort, assafoetida, livid

toadstools, dragons’ teeth, and bitter moon-seed growing in the

joints. On the outer edge of the terrace were bushes of arbor vitae

planted in a row, squat and round like sleeping dormice, with clumps

of choke-pard aconite in the interspaces. Many hundred feet in length

was the terrace from north to south, and at either end a flight of

black marble steps led down to the level of the inner ward and its

embattled wall.

Benches of green jasper massily built and laden with velvet cushions

of many colours stood against the palace wall facing to the west, and

on the bench nearest the Iron Tower a lady sat at ease, eating cream

wafers and a quince tart served by her waitingwomen in dishes of pale

gold for her morning meal. Tall was that lady and slender, and beauty

dwelt in her as the sunshine dwells in the red floor and gray-green

trunks of a beech wood in early spring. Her tawny hair was gathered in

deep folds upon her head and made fast by great silver pins, their

heads set with anachite diamonds. Her gown was of cloth of silver with

a knotted cordwork of black silk embroidery everywhere decked with

little moonstones, and over it she wore a mantle of figured satin the

colour of the woodpigeon’s wing, tinselled and overcast with silver

threads. White-skinned she was, and graceful as an antelope. Her eyes

were green, with yellow fiery gleams. Daintily she ate the tart and

wafers, sipping at whiles from a cup of amber, artificially carved,

white wine cool from the cellars below Carcë, and a maiden sitting at

her feet played on a seven-stringed lute, singing very sweetly this

song:

Aske me no more where Jove bestowes.

When June is past, the fading rose;

For in your beautie’s orient deepe.

These flowers, as in their causes, sleepe.

Aske me no more whither do stray

The golden atomes of the day;

For in pure love heaven did prepare

Those powders to enrich your haire.

Aske me no more whither doth haste

The nightingale when May is past;

For in your sweet dividing throat

She winters and keepes warme her note.

Aske me no more where those starres alight.

That downewards fall in dead of night;

For in your eyes they sit, and there

Fixed become as in their sphere.

Aske me no more if east or west

The Phoenix builds her spicy nest;

For unto you at last shee flies.

And in your fragrant bosome dyes.

“No more,” said the lady; “thy voice is cracked this morning. Is none

abroad yet thou canst find to tell me of last night’s doings? Or are

all gone my lord’s gate, that I left sleeping still as though all the

poppies of all earth’s gardens breathed drowsiness about his head?”

“One cometh, madam,” said the damosel.

The lady said, “The Lord Gro. He may resolve me. Though were he in the

stour last night, that were a wonder indeed.”

Therewith came Gro along the terrace from the north, clad in a mantle

of dun-coloured velvet with a collar of raised work of gold upon

silver purl; and his long black curly beard was perfumed with orange-flower water and angelica. When they had greeted one another and the

lady had bidden her women stand apart, she said, “My lord, I thirst

for tidings. Recount to me all that befell since sundown. For I slept

soundly till the streaks of morning showed through my chamber windows,

and then I awoke from a flying dream of sennets sounding to the onset,

and torches in the night, and war’s alarums. And there were torches

indeed in my chamber lighting my lord to bed, that answered me no word

but straightway fell asleep as in utter weariness. Some slight

scratches he hath, but else unhurt. I would not wake him, for balm is

in slumber; also is he ill to do with if one wake him so. But the

tattle and wild surmise of the servants bloweth as ever to all points

of wonder: as that a great armament of Demonland is disembarked at

Tenemos, and all routed last night by my lord and by Corinius, and

Goldry Bluszco slain in single combat with the King. Or that Juss hath

set a charm on Laxus and all our fleet, making them sail like

parricides against this land, Juss and the other Demons leading them;

and all slain save Laxus and Goldry Bluszco, but these brought bound

into Carcë, stark mad and frothing at the lips, and Corinius dead of

his wounds after slaying of Brandoch Daha. Or, foolishly,” and her

green eyes lightened dangerously, “that it was my brother risen in

revolt to wrest Pixyland from the overlordship of Gorice, and joined

with Gaslark to that end, and their army overthrown and both ta’en

prisoner.”

Gro laughed and said, “Surely, O my Lady Prezmyra, truth masketh in

many a strange disguise when she rideth rumour’s broomstick through

kings’ palaces. But somewhat of herself bath she shown thee, if thou

conclude that an event was brought to birth betwixt dark and sunrise

to stagger the world, and that the power of Witchland bloomed forth

this night into unbeholden glory.”

“Thou speakest big, my lord,” said the lady. “Were the Demons in it?”

“Ay, madam,” he said.

“And triumphed on? and slain?”

“All slain save Juss and Brandoch Daha, and they taken,” said Gro.

“Was this my lord’s doing?” she asked.

“Greatly, as I think,” said Gro; “though Corinius claimeth for

himself, as commonly, the main honour of it.”

Prezmyra said, “He claimeth overmuch.” And she said, “There were none

in it save Demons?”

Gro, knowing her thought, smiled and made answer, “Madam, there were

Witches.”

“My Lord Gro,” she cried, “thou dost ill to mock me. Thou art my

friend. Thou knowest the Prince my brother proud and sudden to anger.

Thou knowest it chafeth him to have Witchland over him. Thou knowest

the time is many days overpast when he should bring his yearly tribute

to the King.”

Gro’s great ox-eyes were soft as he looked upon the Lady Prezmyra,

saying, “Most assuredly am I thy friend, madam. Belike, if truth were

told, thou and thy lord are all the true friends I have in waterish

Witchland: you two, and the King: but who sleepeth safe in the favour

of