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

world at peace: that is farthest from their intent. They would not

listen to thy comfortable words nor sit at meat with us, so set be

they to imagine mischief against us. What said Juss? ‘Witchland was

ever as a flea’: ay, as a flea which he itcheth to crush betwixt his

finger-nails. O, if thou be in love with peace, a short way lieth open

to thy heart’s desire.”

Nought spake the Red Foliot, gazing still into the dim reflections of

the sunset which lingered below a darkening sky where stars were born.

Gro said softly, as a cat purring, “Where softening unctions failed,

sharp surgery bringeth speediest ease. Wilt thou not leave it to me?”

But the Red Foliot looked angrily upon him, saying, “What have I to do

with your enmities? You are sworn to keep the peace, and I will not

abide your violence nor your breaking of oaths in my quiet kingdom.”

Gro said, “Oaths be of the heart, and he that breaketh them in open

fact is oft, as now, no breaker in truth, for already were they

scorned and trampled on by his opposites.”

But the Red Foliot said again, “What have I to do with your enmities

that set you by the ears like fighting dogs? I am yet to learn that he

that hath a righteous heart, and clean hands, and hateth none, must

needs be drawn into the brawls and manslayings of such as you and the

Demons.”

Lord Gro looked narrowly upon him, saying, “Thinkest thou that the

strait path of him that affecteth neither side lieth still open for

thee? If that were thine aim, thou shouldst have bethought thee ere

thou gayest thyjudgement on the second bout. For clear as day it was

to us and to thine own people, and most of all to the Demons, that the

King played foul in that bout, and when thou calledst him victorious

thou didst loudly by that word trumpet thyself his friend, and

unfriends to Demonland. Markedst thou not, when they left the hall,

with what a snake’s eye Lord Juss beheld thee? Not with us only but

with thee he refused to eat and drink, that so his superstitious

scruples may be unhurt when he proceeds to thy destruction. For on

this are they determined. Nothing is more certain.”

The Red Foliot sank his chin upon his breast, and stood silent for a

space. The hues of death and silence spread themselves where late the

fires of sunset glowed, and large stars opened like flowers on the

illimitable fields of the night sky: Arcturus, Spica, Gemini, and the

Little Dog, and Capella and her Kids.

The Red Foliot said, “Witchland lieth at my door. And Demonland: how

stand I with Demonland?”

And Gro said, “Also tomorrow’s sun goeth up out of Witchland.”

For a while they spoke not. Then Lord Gro took forth a scroll from his

bosom, and said, “The harvest of this world is to the resolute, and he

that is infirm of purpose is ground betwixt the upper and the nether

millstone. Thou canst not turn back: so would they scorn and spurn

thee, and we Witches likewise. And now by these means only may lasting

peace be brought about, namely, by the setting of Gorice of Witchland

on the throne of Demonland, and the utter humbling of that brood

beneath the heel of the Witches.”

The Red Foliot said, “Is not Gorice slain, and drank we not but now

his arvale, slain by a Demon? and is he not the second in order of

that line who hath so died by a Demon?”

“A twelfth Gorice,” said Gro, “at this moment of time sitteth King in

Carcë. O Red Foliot, know thou that I am a reader of the planets of

the night and of those hidden powers that work out the web of destiny.

Whereby I know that this twelfth King of the house of Gorice in Carcë

shall be a most crafty warlock, full of guiles and wiles, who by the

might of his egromancy and the sword of Witchland shall exceed all

earthly powers that be. And ineluctable as the levin-bolt of heaven

goeth out his wrath against his enemies.” So saying, Gro stooped and

took a glowworm from the grass, saying kindly to it, “Sweeting, thy

lamp for a moment,” and breathed upon it, and held it to the

parchment, saying, “Sign now thy royal name to these articles, which

require thee not at all to go to war, but only (in case war shall

arise) to be of our party, and against these Demons that do privily

pursue thy life.”

But the Red Foliot said, “Wherein am I certified that thou speakest

not a lie?”

Then took Gro a writing from his purse and showed thereon a seal like

the seal of Lord Juss; and there was written: “Unto Voll al love and

truste: and fayll nat whenas thow saylest upon Wychlande to caste of

iii or iv shippes for the Folyott Isles to putt downe those and brenne

the Redd Folyott in hys hous. For if wee get nat the lyfe of these

wormes chirted owt of them the shame will stikk on us for ever.” And

Gro said, “My servant stole this from them while they spoke with thee

in thine hall tonight.”

Which the Red Foliot believed, and took from his belt his inkhorn and

his pen, and signed his royal name to the articles of the treaty

proposed to him.

Therewith Lord Gro put up the parchment in his bosom and said, “Swift

surgery. Needs must that we take them in their beds tonight; so shall

tomorrow’s dawn bring glory and triumph to Witchland, now fixed in an

eclipse, and to the whole world peace and soft contentment.”

But the Red Foliot answered him, “My Lord Gro, I have signed these

articles, and thereby stand I bound in enmity to Demonland. But I will

not bewray my guests that have eaten my salt, be they never so deeply

pledged mine enemies. Be it known to thee, I have set guards on your

booths this night and on the booths of them of Demonland, that no

unpeaceful deeds may be done betwixt you. This which I have done, by

this will I stand, and ye shall both depart tomorrow in peace, even

as ye came. Because I am your friend and sworn to your party, I and my

Foliots will be on your side when war is between Witchland and

Demonland. But I will not suffer night-slayings nor murthers in my

Isles.”

Now with these words of the Red Foliot, Lord Gro was as one that

walketh along a flowery path to his rest, and in the last steps a gulf

yawneth suddenly athwart the path, and he standeth a-gape and

disappointed at the hither side. Yet in his subtlety he made no sign,

but straight replied, “Righteously hast thou decreed and wisely, O Red

Foliot, for it was truly said:

Let worthy minds ne’er stagger in distrust

To suffer death or shame for what is just.

and that which we sow in darkness must unfold in the open light of

day, lest it be found withered in the very hour of maturity. Nor would

I have urged thee otherwise, but that I do throughly fear these

Demons, and all my mind was to take their plotting in reverse. Do then

one thing only for us. If we set sail homeward and they on our heels,

they will fall upon us at a disadvantage, for they have the swifter

ship; or if they get to sea before us, they will lie in wait for us on

the high seas. Suffer us then to sail tonight, and do thou on some

pretext delay them here for three days only, that we may get us home

or ever they leave the Foliot Isles.”

“I will not gainsay thee in this,” answered the Red Foliot, “for here

is nought but what is fair and just and lieth with mine honour. I will

come to your booths at midnight and bring you down to your ship.”

When Gro came to the Witches’ booths he found them guarded even as the

Red Foliot had said, and the booths of them of Demonland in like

manner. So went he into the royal booth where the King lay in state on

a bier of spearshafts, robed in his kingly robes over his armour that

was painted black and inlaid with gold, and the crown of Witchland on

his head. Two candles burned at the head of King Gorice and two at his

feet; and the night wind blowing through the crannies of the booth

made them flare and flicker, so that shadows danced unceasingly on the

wall and roof and floor. On the benches round the walls sat the lords

of Witchland sullen of countenance, for the wine was dead in them.

Balefully they eyed Lord Gro at his coming in, and Corinius sate

upright in his seat and said, “Here is the Goblin, father and fosterer

of our misfortunes. Come, let us slay him.”

Gro stood among them with head erect and held Corinius with his eye,

saying, “We of Witchland are not run lunatic, my Lord Corinius, that

we should do this gladness to the Demons, to bite each at the other’s

throat like wolves. Methinks if Witchland be the land of my adoption

only, yet have I not done least among you to ward off sheer

destruction from her in this pass we stand in. If ye have aught

against me, let me hear it and answer it.”

Corinius laughed a bitter laugh. “Harken to the fool! Are we babies

and milksops, thinkest thou, and is it not clear as day thou stoodest

in the way of our falling on the Demons when we might have done so,

urging what silly counsels I know not in favour of doing it by night?

And now is night come, and we close prisoned in our booths, and no

chance to come at them unless we would bring an hornets’ nest of

Foliots about our ears and give warning of our intent to the Demons

and every living soul in this island. And all this has come about

since thy slinking off and plotting with the Red Foliot. But now hath

thy guile overreached itself, and now we will kill thee, and so an end

of thee and thy plotting.”

With that Corinius sprang up and drew his sword, and the other Witches

with him. But Lord Gro moved not an eyelid, only he said, “Hear mine

answer first. All night lieth before us, and ‘tis but a moment’s task

to murther me.”

Therewith stood forth the Lord Corund with his huge bulk betwixt Gro

and Corinius, saying in a great voice, “Whoso shall point weapon

‘gainst him shall first have to do with me, though it were one of my

sons. We will hear him. If he clear not himself, then will we hew him

in pieces.”

They sat down, muttering. And Gro spake and said, “First behold this

parchment, which is the articles of a solemn covenant and alliance,

and behold where the Red Foliot hath set his sign manual thereto.

True, his is a country of no might in arms, and we might tread him

down and ne’er feel the leavings stick to our boot, and little avail

can their weak help be unto us in the day of battle. But there is in

these Isles a meetly good road and riding-place for ships, which if

our enemies should occupy, their fleet were most aptly placed to do us

all the ill imaginable. Is