served of great plenty of wine and good and delicate meats, and sent
them musicians and a minstrel to gladden them with songs and stories
of old time, that they might lack nought of entertainment. But for his
other guests he let bear in the massy cups of silver, and the great
eared wine jars holding two firkins apiece, and he let pour forth to
the Witches and the Foliots, and they drank the cup of memory unto King
Gorice XI., slain that day by the hand of Goldry Bluszco. Thereafter
when their cups were brimmed anew with foaming wine the Red Foliot
spake among them and said, “O ye lords of Witchland, will you that I
speak a dirge in honour of Gorice the King that the dark reaper hath
this day gathered?” So when they said yea to this, he called to him his
player on the theorbo and his player on the hautboy, and commanded them
saying, “Play me a solemn music.” And they played softly in the Aeolian
mode a music that was like the wailing of wind through bare branches on
a moonless night, and the Red Foliot leaned forth from his high seat
and recited this lamentation:
I that in heill was and gladness
Am trublit now with great sickness
And feblit with infirmitie:—
_Timor Mortis conturbat me_.
Our plesance here is all vain glory,
This fals world is but transitory,
The flesh is bruckle, the Feynd is slee:—
_Timor Mortis conturbat me_.
The state of man does change and vary,
Now sound, now sick, now blyth, now sary,
Now dansand mirry, now like to die:—
_Timor Mortis conturbat me_.
No state in Erd here standis sicker;
As with the wynd wavis the wicker,
So wannis this world’s vanitie:—
_Timor Mortis conturbat me_.
Unto the Death gois all Estatis,
Princis, Prelattis, and Potestatis,
Baith rich and poor of all degree:—
_Timor Mortis conturbat me_.
He takis the knichtis in to field
Enarmit under helm and scheild;
Victor he is at all mellie:—
_Timor Mortis conturbat me_.
That strong unmerciful tyrand
Takis, on the motheris breast sowkand,
The babe full of benignitie:—
_Timor Mortis conturbat me_.
He takis the campion in the stour,
The captain closit in the tour,
The lady in bour full of bewtie:—
_Timor Mortis conturbat me_.
He spairis no lord for his piscence,
Na clerk for his intelligence;
His awful straik may no man flee:—
_Timor Mortis conturbat me_.
Art-magicianis and astrologis,
Rethoris, logicianis, theologis,
Them helpis no conclusionis slee:—
_Timor Mortis conturbat me_.
In medecine the most practicianis,
Leechis, surrigianis, and physicianis,
Themself from Death may nocht supplee:—
_Timor Mortis conturbat me_.
When the Red Foliot had spoken thus far his dirge, he was interrupted
by an unseemly brawling betwixt Corinius and one of the sons of Corund.
For Corinius, who gave not a fig for music or dirges, but liked well of
carding and dicing, had brought forth his dice box to play with the son
of Corund. They played awhile to Corinius’s great content, for at every
throw he won and the other’s purse waxed light. But at this eleventh
stanza the son of Corund cried out that the dice of Corinius were
loaded. And he smote Corinius on his shaven jowl with the dice box,
calling him cheat and mangy rascal, whereupon Corinius drew forth a
bodkin to smite him in the neck withal; but some went betwixt them, and
with much ado and much struggling and cursing they were parted, and it
being shown that the dice were not loaded, the son of Corund was fain
to make amends to Corinius, and so were they set at one again.
Now was the wine poured forth yet again to the lords of Witchland, and
the Red Foliot drank deep unto the glory of that land and the rulers
thereof. And he issued command saying, “Let my Kagu come and dance
before us, and thereafter my other dancers. For there is no pleasure
whereon the Foliots do more dearly dote than this pleasure of the
dance, and sweet to us it is to behold delightful dancing, be it the
stately splendour of the Pavane which progresseth as large clouds at
sun-down that pass by in splendour; or the graceful Allemande; or
the Fandango, which goeth by degrees from languorous beauty to the
swiftness and passion of Bacchanals dancing on the high lawns under a
summer moon that hangeth in the pine trees; or the joyous maze of the
Galliard; or the Gigue, dear to the Foliots. Therefore delay not, but
let my Kagu come, that she may dance before us.”
Therewith hastened the Kagu into the shadowy hall, moving softly and
rolling a little in her gait, with her head thrust forward; and a
little flurried was she in her bearing as she darted this way and that
her large and beautiful eyes, mild and timid, that were like liquid
gold heated to redness. Somewhat like a heron she was, but stouter,
and shorter of leg, and her beak shorter and thicker than the heron’s;
and so long and delicate was her pale gray plumage that hard it was
to say whether it were hair or feathers. So the wind instruments and
the lutes and dulcimers played a Coranto, and the Kagu tripped up the
hall betwixt the long tables, jumping a little and bowing a little in
her step and keeping excellent time to the music; and when she came
near to the dais where the Red Foliot sat ravished with delight at her
dancing, the Kagu lengthened her step and glided smoothly and slowly
forward toward the Red Foliot; and so gliding she drew herself up in
stately wise and opened her mouth and drew back her head till her beak
lay tight against her breast, flouncing out her feathers so that they
showed like a widecut skirt with a crinoline, and the crest that was
on her head rose up erect half again her own height from the ground,
and she sailed majestically toward the Red Foliot. On this wise did the
Kagu at every turn that she took in the Coranto, forth and back along
the length of the Foliots’ hall. And they all laughed sweetly at her,
being overjoyed at her dancing. When the dance was done, the Red Foliot
called the Kagu to him and made her sit on the bench beside him, and
stroked her soft gray feathers and made much of her. All bashfully she
sat beside the Red Foliot, casting her ruby eyes in wonder upon the
Witches and their company.
Next the Red Foliot called for his Cat-bears, that stood before him
foxy-red above but with black bellies, round furry faces, and innocent
amber eyes, and soft great paws, and tails barred alternately with
ruddy rings and creamy; and he said, “O Cat-bears, dance before us,
since dearly we delight in your dancing.”
They asked, “Lord, will you that we perform the Gigue?”
And he answered them, “The Gigue, and ye love me.”
So the stringed instruments began a swift movement, and the tambourines
and triangles entered on the beat, and swiftly twinkled the feet of
the Cat-bears in the joyous dance. The music rippled and ran and the
dancers danced till the hall was awhirl with the rhythm of their
dancing, and the Witches roared applause. On a sudden the music ceased,
and the dancers were still, and standing side by side, paw in furry
paw, they bowed shyly to the company, and the Red Foliot called them
to him and kissed them on the mouth and sent them to their seats, that
they might rest and view the dances that were to follow.
Next the Red Foliot called for his white Peacocks, coloured like
moonlight, that they might lead the Pavane before the lords of
Witchland. In glorious wise did they spread their tails for the stately
dance, and a fair and lovely sight it was to see their grace and the
grandeur of their carriage as they moved to the music chaste and noble.
With them were joined the Golden Pheasants, who spread wide their
collars of gold, and the Silver Pheasants, and the Peacock Pheasants,
and the Estridges, and the Bustards, footing it in pomp, pointing the
toes, and bowing and retiring in due time to the solemn strains of the
Pavane. Every instrument took part in the stately Pavane: the lutes and
the dulcimers, and the theorbos, and the sackbuts, and the hautboys;
the flutes sweetly warbling as birds in the upper air, and the silver
trumpets, and the horns that breathed deep melodies trembling with
mystery and tenderness that shakes the heart; and the drum that beateth
to battle, and the wild throb of the harp, and the cymbals clashing as
the clash of armies. And a nightingale sitting by the Red Foliot sang
the Pavane in passionate tones that dissolved the soul in their sweet,
mournful beauty.
The Lord Gro covered his face with his mantle and wept to hear and
behold the divine Pavane; for as ghosts rearisen it raised up for him
old happy half-forgotten days in Goblinland, before he had conspired
against King Gaslark and been driven forth from his dear native land,
an exile in waterish Witchland.
Thereafter let the Red Foliot give order for the Galliard. Joyously
swept forth the melody from the stringed instruments, and two dormice,
fat as butter, spun into the hall. Wilder whirled the music, and the
dormice capered ever higher till they bounded from the floor up to
the beams of the vaulted roof, and down again, and up again to the
roof-beams in the joyful dance. And the Foliots joined in the Galliard,
spinning and capering in mad delight of the dance. And into the hall
twirled six capripeds, footing it lightly as the music swept ever
faster, and a one-footer that leaped hither and thither about and
about, as the flea hoppeth, till the Witches grew hoarse with singing
and shouting and hounding of him on. Yet ever capered the dormice
higher and wilder than any else, and so swiftly flashed their little
feet to the galloping music that no eye might follow their motion.
• • • • •
But little enow was Lord Gro gladdened by the merry dance. Sad
melancholy sat with him for his companion, darkening his thoughts and
making joy hateful to him as sunshine to owls of the night. So that he
was well pleased to mark the Red Foliot go softly from his seat on the
dais and forth from the hall by a door behind the arras, and seeing
this, himself departed softly amid the full tide of the Galliard, forth
of that hall of swift movement and gleeful laughter, forth into the
quiet evening, where above the smooth downs the wind was lulled to
sleep in the vast silent spaces of the sky, and the west was a bower
of orange light fading to purple and unfathomable blue in the upper
heaven, and nought was heard save the murmur of the sleepless sea, and
nought seen save a flight of wildfowl flying against the sunset. In
this quietness Gro walked westward above the combe until he came to
the land’s edge and stood on the lip of a chalk cliff falling to the
sea, and was ware of the Red Foliot, alone on that high western cliff,
gazing in a study at the dying colours in the west.
When they had stood for a while without speech, gazing over the sea,
Gro spake and said, “Consider how as day now dieth in yonder chambers
of the west, so hath the glory departed from Witchland.”
But the Red Foliot answered him not, being in a study.
Then Gro said, “Though Demonland lieth where thou sawest the sun
descend, yet eastward out of Witchland must thou look for the morning
splendour. Not more surely shalt thou behold the sun go up thence
to-morrow than thou shalt see shine forth in short season the glory and
honour and power of Witchland, and beneath her destructive sword her
enemies shall be as grass before the sickle.”
The Red Foliot said, “I am in love with peace and the soft influence of
the evening air. Leave me; or if thou wilt stay, break not the charm.”
“O Red Foliot,” said Gro, “art thou in love with peace indeed? So
should the rising again of Witchland tune sweet music to thy thought,
since we of Witchland love peace, nor are we stirrers up of strife, but
the Demons only. The war against the Ghouls, whereby the four corners
of the earth were shaken, was hatched by Demonland——”
“Thou speakest,” said the Red Foliot, “clean against thine intention,
a great praise of them. For who ever saw the like of these man-eating
Ghouls for corruption of manners, inhuman degeneration, and deluge
of iniquities? Who every fifth year from time immemorial have had
their grand climacterical year, and but last year brake forth in
never-imagined ferocity. But if they sail now, ’tis on the dark lake
they sail, grieving no earthly seas nor rivers. Praise Demonland,
therefore, who did put them down for ever.”
“I make no question of that,” answered Lord Gro. “But foul water, as
soon as fair, will quench hot fire. Sore against our will did we of
Witchland join with the Demons in that war, foreseeing (as hath been
bloodily approved) that the issue must be but the puffing up of the
Demons, who desire no other thing than to be lords and tyrants of all
the world.”
“Thou,” said the Red Foliot, “wast in thy young days King Gaslark’s
man: a Goblin born and bred: his very foster-brother, nourished at the
same breast. Why must I observe thee, a plain traitor against so good
a king? Whose perfidy the common people then did openly reprove (as I
did well perceive even so lately as last autumn, when I was in the city
of Zajë Zaculo at the time of their festivities for the betrothal of
the king’s cousin german the Princess Armelline unto the Lord Goldry
Bluszco), they carrying filthy pictures of thee in the street, singing
of thee thus:
It was pittie
One so wittie
Malcontent:
Leaving reason
Should to treason
So be bent.
But his gifts
Were but shifts
Void of grace:
And his braverie
Was but knaverie
Vile and base.”
Said Gro, wincing a little, “The art of it agreeth well with the
sentiment, and with the condition of those who invented it. I will not
think so noble a prince as thou art will set thy sails to the wind of
the rabble’s most partial hates and envies. For the vile addition of
traitor, I do reject and spit upon it. But true it is that, regarding
not the god of fools and women, nice opinion, I do steer by mine own
lode-star still. Howbeit, I came not to discourse to thee on so small a
matter as myself. This I would say unto thee with most sad and serious
entertain: Be not lulled to think the Demons will leave the 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 gavest thy judgement 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 to-morrow’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 glow-worm 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
iij 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 to-night.”
Which the Red Foliot believed, and took from his belt his ink-horn
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 to-night; so shall
to-morrow’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 to-morrow 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 to-night, 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 spear-shafts, 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 then this treaty a light benefit where
now we stand? Next, know that when I counselled you take the Demons
in their beds ’stead of fall upon them in the Foliots’ hall, I did so
being advertised that the Red Foliot had commanded his soldiers to turn
against us or against the Demons, whichever first should draw sword
upon the other. And when I went forth from the hall it was, as Corinius
hath so deeply divined, to plot with the Red Foliot; but the aim of my
plotting I have shown you, on these articles of alliance. And indeed,
had I as Corinius vilely accuseth me practised with the Red Foliot
against Witchland, I had hardly been so simple as return into the mouth
of destruction when I might have bided safely in his palace.”