The Worm Ouroboros by E. R. Eddison (nonfiction book recommendations TXT) 📕

Krothering gates, wintersweet and the little purple daphne bush that blooms before the leaf breathed fragrance abroad. Yet was it not this sweetness in the air that troubled the Lord Gro, nor that western glory burning that dazzled his eyes; but to look upon that lady standing in the gate, white-skinned and dark, like the divine Huntress, tall and proud and lovely.

Mevrian, seeing him speechless, said at last, “My lord, I heard thou hadst some errand to declare unto me. And seeing a great camp of war gathered under Erngate End, and having heard of robbers and evildoers rife about the land these many moons, I look not for soft speech. Take heart, therefore, and declare plainly what ill thou meanest.”

Gro answered and said, “Tell me first if thou that speakest art in truth the Lady Mevrian, that I may know whether to human kind I speak or to some Goddess come down from the shining floor of heaven.”

She answered, “Of thy compliments I have nought to do. I am she thou namest.”

“Madam,” said Lord Gro, “I would not have brought your highness this message nor delivered it, but that I know full well that did I refuse 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-at-arms 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 Switchwater

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