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

Brandoch Daha hurled his horsemen upon Corsus and the subject allies,

while all along the battle-line the Demons rallied to fling back the

enemy. For a breathless while, the issue hung in suspense: then the

men of Gilta and Nevria broke and fled, Brandoch Daha and his cavalry

swept through the gap, wheeled right and left and took Corsus and

Corinius in flank and rear.

There fell in this onset Axtacus lord of Permio, the kings of Ellien

and Gilta, Gorius the son of Corsus, the Count of Tzeusha, and many

other noblemen and men of mark. Of the Demons many were hurt and many

slain, but none of great note save Kamerar of Stropardon, whose head

Corinius swapt off clean with a blow of his battle-axe, and Trentmar

whom Corsus smote full in the stomach with a javelin so that he fell

down from his horse and was dead at once. Now was all the left and

centre of the Witches’ battle thrown into great confusion, and the

allies most of all fallen into disorder and fain to yield themselves

and pray for mercy. The King, seeing the extent of this disaster, sent

a galloper to Corund, who straightway sent to Corsus and Corinius

commanding them get them at their speediest with all their folk back

into Carcë while time yet served. Himself in the meantime, showing

now, like the sun, his greatest countenance in his lowest estate, set

on with his weary army to stem the advance of Juss, who now momently

gathered fresh force against him, and to keep open for the rest of the

King’s forces their way by the bridge-gate into Carcë. Corinius, when

he understood it, galloped thither with a band of men to aid Corund,

and this did likewise Heming and Dekalajus and other captains of the

Witches. But Corsus himself, counting the day lost and considering

that he was an old man and had fought now long enough, gat him privily

back into Carcë as quickly as he was able. And truly he was bleeding

from many wounds.

By this great stand of Corund and his men was time won for a great

part of the residue of the army to escape into Carcë. And ever the

Witches were put aback and lost much ground, yet ever the Lord Corund

by his great valiance and noble heart recomforted his folk, so that

they gave back very slowly, most bloodily disputing the ground foot by

foot to the bridge-gate, that they also might win in again, so many as

might. Juss said, “This is the greatest deed of arms that ever I in

the days of my life did see, and I have so great an admiration and

wonder in my heart for Corund that almost I would give him peace. But

I have sworn now to have no peace with Witchland.”

Lord Gro was in that battle with the Demons. He ran Didarus through

the neck with his sword, so that he fell down and was dead.

Corund, when he saw it, heaved up his axe, but changed his intention

in the manage, saying, “O landskip of iniquity, shalt thou kill beside

me the men of mine household? But my friendship sitteth not on a

weather vane. Live, and be a traitor.”

But Gro, being mightily moved with these words, and staring at great

Corund wide-eyed like a man roused from a dream, answered, “Have I

done amiss? ‘Tis easy remedied.” Therewith he turned about and slew a

man of Demonland. Which Spitfire seeing, he cried out upon Gro in a

great rage for a most filthy traitor, and bloodily rushing in thrust

him through the buckler into the brain.

In such wise and by such a sudden vengeance did the Lord Gro most

miserably end his life-days. Who, being a philosopher and a man of

peace, careless of particular things of earth, had followed and

observed all his days steadfastly one heavenly star; yet now in the

bloody battle before Carcë died in the common opinion of men a

manifold perjured traitor, that had at length gotten the guerdon of

his guile.

Now came the Lord Juss with a great rout of men armed on his great

horse with his sword dripping with blood, and the battle sprang up

into yet more noise and fury, and great manslaying befell, and many

able men of Witchland fell in that stour and the Demons had almost put

them from the bridge-gate. But the Lord Corund, rallying his folk,

swung back yet again the battletide, albeit he was by a great odds

outnumbered. And he sought none but Juss himself in that deadly

mellay; who when he saw him coming he refused him not but made against

him most fiercely, and with great clanging blows they swapped together

awhile, until Corund hewed Juss’s shield asunder and struck him from

his horse. Juss, leaping up again, thrust up at Corund with his sword

and with the violence of the blow brake through the rings of his byrny

about his middle and drave the sword into his breast. And Corund

felled him to earth with a great down-stroke on the helm, so that he

lay senseless.

Still the battle raged before the bridge-gate, and great wounds were

given and taken of either side. But now the sons of Corund saw that

their father had lost much of his blood and waxed feeble, and the

residue of his folk seeing it too, and seeing themselves so few

against so many, began to be abashed. So those sons of Corund, riding

up to him on either side with a band of men, made him turn back with

them and go with them in by the gate to Carcë, the which he did like a

man amazed and knowing not what he doeth. And indeed it was a great

marvel how so great a lord, wounded to the death, might sit on

horseback.

In the great court he was gotten down from his horse. The Lady

Prezmyra, when she perceived that his harness was all red with blood,

and saw his wound, fell not down in a swoon as another might, but took

his arm about her shoulder and so supported, with her step-sons to

help her, that great frame which could no more support itself yet had

till that hour borne up against the whole world’s strength in arms.

Leeches came that she had called for, and a litter, and they brought

him to the banquet hall. But after no long while those learned men

confessed his hurt was deadly, and all their cunning nought.

Whereupon, much disdaining to die in bed, not in the field fighting

with his enemies, the Lord Corund caused himself, completely armed and

weaponed, with the stains and dust of the battle yet upon him, to be

set in his chair, there to await death.

Heming, when this was done, came to tell it to the King, where from

the tower above the water-gate he beheld the end of this battle. The

Demons held the bridgehouse. The fight was done. The King sat in his

chair looking down to the battlefield. His dark mantle was about his

shoulders. He leaned forward resting his chin in his hand. They of his

bodyguard, nine or ten, stood huddled together some yards away as if

afraid to approach him. As Heming came near, the King turned his head

slowly to look at him. The low sun, swinging blood-red over Tenemos,

shone full on the King’s face. And as Heming looked in the face of the

King fear gat hold upon him, so that he durst not speak a word to the

King, but made obeisance and departed again, trembling like one who

has seen a sight beyond the veil.

THE LATTER END OF ALL THE LORDS OF WITCHLAND

Of the council of war; and how the Lord Corsus,

being rejected of the King, turned his thoughts to

other things; and of the last conjuring that was

in Carcë and the last wine-bibbing; and how yet

once again the Lady Prezmyra spake with the

lords of Demonland in Carce.

GORICE the King held in his private chamber a council of war on the

morrow of the battle before Carcë. The morning was overcast with

sullen cloud, and though all the windows were thrown wide the sluggish

air hung heavy in the room, as if it too were pervaded by the cold

dark humour that clogged the vitals of those lords of Witchland like a

drowsy drug, or as if the stars would breathe themselves for a greater

mischief. Pale and drawn were those lords’ faces; and, for all they

strove to put on a brave countenance before the King, clean gone was

the vigour and warlike mien that clothed them but yesterday. Only

Corinius kept some spring of his old valiancy and portly bearing,

seated with arms akimbo over against the King, his heavy under-jaw set

forward and his nostrils wide. He had slept ill or watched late, for

his eyes were bloodshotten, and the breath of his nostrils was heavy

with wine.

“We tarry for Corsus,” said the King. “Had he not word of my bidding?”

Dekalajus said, “Lord, I will summon him again. These misfortunes I

fear me hang heavy on his mind, and, by your majesty’s leave, he is

scarce his own man since yesterday.”

“Do it straight,” said the King. “Give me thy papers, Corinius. Thou

art my general since Corund gat his death. I will see what yesterday

hath cost us and what power yet remaineth to crush me these snakes by

force of arms.”

“These be the numbers, O King,” said Corinius. “But three thousand and

five hundred fighting men, and well nigh half of these over much

crippled with wounds to do aught save behind closed walls. It were but

to give the Demons easy victory to adventure against them, that stand

before Carcë four thousand sound men in arms.”

The King blew scornfully through his nostrils. “Who told thee their

strength?” said he.

“It were dangerous to write them down a man fewer,” answered Corinius.

And Hacmon said, “My Lord the King, I would adventure my head they

have more. And your majesty will not forget they be all flown with

eagerness and pride after yesterday’s field, whereas our men–”

“Were ye sons of Corund,” said the King, breaking in quietly on his

speech and looking dangerously upon him, “but twigs of your father’s

tree, that he being cut down ye have no manhood left nor vital sap,

but straight wither in idiotish dotage? I will not have these womanish

counsels spoke in Carcë; no, nor thought in Carcë.”

Corinius said, “We had sure intelligence, O King, whenas they landed

that their main army was six thousand fighting men; and last night

myself spake with full a score of our officers, and had a true tale of

some few of the Demons captured by us before they were slain with the

sword. When I say to you Juss standeth before Carcë four thousand

strong, I swell not the truth. His losses yesterday were but a

flea-biting ‘gainst ours.”

The King nodded a curt assent.

Corinius proceeded, “If we might contrive indeed to raise help from

without Carcë, were it but five hundred spears to distract his mind

some part from usward, nought but your majesty’s strict command should

stay me but I should assault him. It were perilous even so, but never

have you known me leave a fruit unplucked at for fear of thorns. But

until that time, nought but your straight command might win me to

essay a sally. Since well I wot it were my death, and