Domnei by James Branch Cabell (reading in the dark .TXT) 📕

The infirm King arose and came to meet the champion who had performed what many generals of Christendom had vainly striven to achieve. He embraced the conqueror of Demetrios as one does an equal.

Said Theodoret:

“Hail, my fair friend! you who have lopped the right arm of heathenry! Today, I know, the saints hold festival in heaven. I cannot recompense you, since God alone is omnipotent. Yet ask now what you will, short of my crown, and it is yours.” The old man kissed the chief of all his treasures, a bit of the True Cross, which hung upon his breast supported by a chain of gold.

“The King has spoken,” Perion returned. “I ask the life of Demetrios.”

Theodoret recoiled, like a small flame which is fluttered by its kindler’s breath. He cackled thinly, saying:

“A jest or so is privileged in this high hour. Yet we ought not to make a jest of matters which concern the Church. Am I not right, Ayrart? Oh, no, this merciless Demetrios is assuredly that very Antichrist whose coming was foretold. I must relinquish him to Mother Church, in order that he may be equitably tried, and be baptised⁠—since even he may have a soul⁠—and afterward be burned in the marketplace.”

“The King has spoken,” Perion replied. “I too have spoken.”

There was a pause of horror upon the part of King Theodoret. He was at first in a mere whirl. Theodoret said:

“You ask, in earnest, for the life of this Demetrios, this arch-foe of our Redeemer, this spawn of Satan, who has sacked more of my towns than I have fingers on this wasted hand! Now, now that God has singularly favoured me⁠—!” Theodoret snarled and gibbered like a frenzied ape, and had no longer the ability to articulate.

“Beau sire, I fought the man because he infamously held Dame Melicent, whom I serve in this world without any reservation, and trust to serve in Paradise. His person, and this alone, will ransom Melicent.”

“You plan to loose this fiend!” the old King cried. “To stir up all this butchery again!”

“Sire, pray recall how long I have loved Melicent. Reflect that if you slay Demetrios, Dame Melicent will be left destitute in heathenry. Remember that she will be murdered through the hatred of this man’s other wives whom her inestimable beauty has supplanted.” Thus Perion entreated.

All this while the cardinal and the proconsul had been appraising each other. It was as though they two had been the only persons in the dimly-lit apartment. They had not met before. “Here is my match,” thought each of these two; “here, if the world affords it, is my peer in cunning and bravery.”

And each lusted for a contest, and with something of mutual comprehension.

In consequence they stinted pity for Theodoret, who unfeignedly believed that whether he kept or broke his recent oath damnation was inevitable. “You have been ill-advised⁠—” he stammered. “I do not dare release Demetrios⁠—My soul would answer that enormity⁠—But it was sworn upon the Cross⁠—Oh, ruin either way! Come now, my gallant captain,” the King barked. “I have gold, lands, and jewels⁠—”

“Beau sire, I have loved this my dearest lady since the time when both of us were little more than children, and each day of the year my love for her has been doubled. What would it avail me to live in however lofty estate when I cannot daily see the treasure of my life?”

Now the Cardinal de Montors interrupted, and his voice was to the ear as silk is to the fingers.

“Beau sire,” said Ayrart de Montors, “I speak in all appropriate respect. But you have sworn an oath which no man living may presume to violate.”

“Oh, true, Ayrart!” the fluttered King assented. “This blusterer holds me as in a vise.” He turned to Perion again, fierce, tense and fragile, like an angered cat. “Choose now! I will make you the wealthiest person in my realm⁠—My son, I warn you that since Adam’s time women have been the devil’s peculiar bait. See now, I am not angry. Heh, I remember, too, how beautiful she was. I was once tempted much as you are tempted. So I pardon you. I will give you my daughter Ermengarde in marriage, I will make you my heir, I will give you half my kingdom⁠—” His voice rose, quavering; and it died now, for he foreread the damnation of Theodoret’s soul while he fawned before this impassive Perion.

“Since Love has taken up his abode within my heart,” said Perion, “there has not ever been a vacancy therein for any other thought. How may I help it if Love recompenses my hospitality by afflicting me with a desire which can neither subdue the world nor be subdued by it?”

Theodoret continued like the rustle of dead leaves:

“⁠—Else I must keep my oath. In that event you may depart with this unbeliever. I will accord you twenty-four hours wherein to accomplish this. But, oh, if I lay hands upon either of you within the twenty-fifth hour I will not kill my prisoner at once. For first I must devise unheard-of torments⁠—”

The King’s face was not agreeable to look upon.

Yet Perion encountered it with an untroubled gaze until Battista spoke, saying:

“I promise worse. The Book will be cast down, the bells be tolled, and all the candles snuffed⁠—ah, very soon!” Battista licked his lips, gingerly, just as a cat does.

Then Perion was moved, since excommunication is more terrible than death to any of the Church’s loyal children, and he was now more frightened than the King. And so Perion thought of Melicent a while before he spoke.

Said Perion:

“I choose. I choose hell fire in place of riches and honour, and I demand the freedom of Demetrios.”

“Go!” the King said. “Go hence, blasphemer. Hah, you will weep for this in hell. I pray that I may hear you then, and laugh as I do now⁠—”

He went away, and was followed by Battista, who whispered of a makeshift. The