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

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.”

How 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