whereof I have well satisfied myself. And it importeth the mere
perdition of my fleet. There hath been battle off Melikaphkhaz in the
Impland seas. Juss hath sunken our ships, every ship save that which
brought the tidings, sunk, with Laxus and all his men that were with
him.” He paused: then, “These be heavy news,” he said, “and I’ll have
you bear ’em in the old Witchland fashion: the heavier hit the heavier
strike again.”
In the strange deformed silence came a little gasping cry, and the Lady
Sriva fell a-swooning.
The King said, “Let the kings of Impland and of Demonland attend me.
The rest, it is commanded that all do get them to bed o’ the instant.”
The Lord Corund said in his lady’s ear as he went by, taking her with
his hand about the shoulder, “What, lass? if the broth’s spilt, the
meat remaineth. To bed with thee, and never doubt we’ll pay them yet.”
And he with Corinius followed the King.
• • • • •
It was past middle night when the council brake up, and Corund sought
his chamber in the eastern gallery above the inner court. He found his
lady sitting yet at the window, watching the false dawn over Pixyland.
Dismissing his lamp-bearers that lighted him to bed, he bolted and
barred the great iron-studded door. The breadth of his shoulders when
he turned filled the shadowy doorway; his head well nigh touched the
lintel. It was hard to read his countenance in the uncertain gloom
where he stood beyond the bright region made by the candle-light, but
Prezmyra’s eyes could mark how care sat on his brow, and there was in
the carriage of his ponderous frame kingliness and the strength of some
strong determination.
She stood up, looking up at him as on a mate to whom she could be true
and be true to her own self. “Well?” she said.
“The tables are set,” said he, without moving. “The King hath named me
his captain general in Carcë.”
“Is it come to that?” said Prezmyra.
“They have hewn a limb from us,” answered he. “They have wit to know
the next stroke should be at the heart.”
“Is it truly so?” said she. “Eight thousand men? twice thine army’s
strength that won Impland for us? all drowned?”
“’Twas the devilish seamanship of these accursed Demons,” said Corund.
“It appeareth Laxus held the Straits where they must go if ever they
should win home again, meaning to fight ’em in the narrows and so crush
’em with the weight of’s ships as easy as kill flies, having by a great
odds the bigger strength both in ships and men. They o’ their part kept
the sea without, trying their best to ’tice him forth so they might do
their sailor tricks i’ the open. A week or more he withstood it, till
o’ the ninth day (the devil curse him for a fool, wherefore could a
not have had patience?) o’ the ninth morning, weary of inaction and
having wind and tide something in his favour”; the Lord Corund groaned
and snapped his fingers contemptuously. “O I’ll tell thee the tale
to-morrow, madam. I’m surfeited with it to-night. The sum is, Laxus
drownded and all that were with him, and Juss with his whole great
armament northward bound for Witchland.”
“And the wide seas his. And we expect him, any day?”
“The wind hangeth easterly. Any day,” said Corund.
Prezmyra said, “That was well done to rest the command in thee. But
what of our qualified young gentleman who had that office aforetime.
Will he play o’ these terms?”
Corund answered, “Hungry dogs will eat dirty puddings. I think he’ll
play, albeit he showed his teeth i’ the first while.”
“Let him keep his teeth for the Demons,” said she.
“This very ship was ta’en,” said Corund, “and sent home by them in a
bravado to tell us what betid: a stupid insolent part, shall cost ’em
dear, for it hath forewarned us. The skipper had this letter for thee:
gave it me monstrous secretly.”
Prezmyra took away the wax and opened the letter, and knew the writer
of it. She held it out to Corund: “Read it to me, my lord. I am tired
with watching; I read ill by this flickering candle-light.”
But he said, “I am too poor a scholar, madam. I prithee read it.”
And in the light of the guttering candles, vexed with an east wind
that blew before the dawn, she read this letter, that was conceived in
manner following:
“Unto the right high mighti and doubtid Prynsace the Quen of
Implande, one that was your Servaunt but now beinge both a Traitor
and a manifald parjured Traitor, which Heaven above doth abhorre,
the erth below detest, the sun moone and starres be eschamed of,
and all Creatures doo curse and ajudge unworthy of breth and life,
do wish onelie to die your Penytent. In hevye sorrowe doo send
you these advisoes which I requyre your Mageste in umblest manner
to pondur wel, seeinge ells your manyfest Overthrowe and Rwyn att
hand. And albeit in Carcee you reste in securitie, it is serten you
are there as saife as he that hingeth by the Leves of a Tree in
the end of Autumpne when as the Leves begin to fall. For in this
late Battaile in Mellicafhaz Sea hath the whole powre of Wychlande
on the sea been beat downe and ruwyned, and the highe Admirall of
our whole Navie loste and ded and the names of the great men of
accownte that were slayen at the battaile I may not numbre nor of
the common sorte much lesse by reaisoun that the more part were
dround in the sea which came not to Syght. But of Daemounlande not
ij schips companies were lossit, but with great puissaunce they
doo buske them for Carsee. Havinge with them this Gowldri Bleusco,
strangely reskewed from his preassoun-house beyond the toombe, and
a great Armey of the moste strangg and fell folke that ever I saw
or herd speke of. Such is the Die of Warre. Most Nowble Prynsace
I will speke unto you not by a Ryddle or Darck Fygure but playnly
that you let not slipp this Occasioun. For I have drempt an evill
Dreeme and one pourtending ruwyn unto Wychlande, beinge in my slepe
on the verie eve of this same bataille terrified and smytten with
an appeering schape of Laxus armde cryinge in an hyghe voise and
lowd, An Ende an Ende an ende of All. Therefore most aernestly I
do beseek your Magestie and your nowble Lorde that was my Frend
before that by my venemous tresun I loste both you and him and
alle, take order for your proper saffetie, and the thinge requyers
Haste of your Magestes. And this must you doo, to fare strayght way
into your owne cuntrie of Picselande and there raise Force. Be you
before these rebalds and obstynates of Demounlande in their Prowd
Attempts, to strike at Wychlande and so purchas their Frenshyp who
it is verie sertan will in powre invintiable stand before Carsee
or ever Wychlande shall have time to putt you downe. This Counsell
I give you knowinge full well that the Power and Domynyon of the
Demouns standeth now preheminent and not to be withstode. So tarry
not by a Sinckinge Schippe, but do as I saye lest all bee loste.
“One thinge more I telle you, that shall haply enforce my counsell
unto you, the hevyeste Newes of alle.”
“’Tis heavy news that such a false troker as he is should yet supervive
so many honest men,” said Corund.
The Lady Prezmyra held out the letter to her lord. “Mine eyes dazzle,”
she said. “Read thou the rest.” Corund put his great arm about her as
he sat down to the table before the mirror and pored over the writing,
spelling it out with one finger. He had little book-learning, and it
was some time ere he had the meaning clear. He did not read it out; his
lady’s face told him she had read all ere he began.
This was the last news Gro’s letter told her: the Prince her brother
dead in the sea-fight, fighting for Demonland; dead and drowned in the
sea off Melikaphkhaz.
Prezmyra went to the window. Dawn was beginning, bleak and gray. After
a minute she turned her head. Like a she-lion she looked, proud and
dangerous-eyed. She was very pale. Her accents, level and quiet, called
to the blood like the roll of a distant drum, as she said, “Succours of
Demonland: late or never.”
Corund beheld her uneasily.
“Their oaths to me and to him!” said she, “sworn to us that night in
Carcë. False friends! O, I could eat their hearts with garlic.”
He put his great hands on her two shoulders. She threw them off. “In
one thing,” she cried, “Gro counselleth us well: to tarry no more on
this sinking ship. We must raise forces. But not as he would have it,
to uphold these Demons, these oath-breakers. We must away this night.”
Her lord had cast aside his great wolfskin mantle. “Come, madam,” said
he, “to bed’s our nearest journey.”
Prezmyra answered, “I’ll not to bed. It shall be seen now, O Corund, if
that thou be a king indeed.”
He sat down on the bed’s edge and fell to doing off his boots. “Well,”
he said, “every one as he likes, as the good-man said when he kissed
his cow. Day’s near dawning; I must be up betimes, and a sleepless
night’s a poor breeder of invention.”
But she stood over him, saying, “It shall be seen if thou be a true
king. And be not deceived: if thou fail me here I’ll have no more of
thee. This night we must away. Thou shalt raise Pixyland, which is now
mine by right: raise power in thine own vast kingdom of Impland. Fling
Witchland to the winds. What care I if she sink or swim? This only is
the matter: to punish these vile perjured Demons, enemies of ours and
enemies of all the world.”
“We need ride o’ no journey for that,” said Corund, still putting off
his boots. “Thou shalt shortly see Juss and his brethren before Carcë
with three score hundred fighting men at’s back. Then cometh the metal
to the anvil. Come, come, thou must not weep.”
“I do not weep,” said she. “Nor I shall not weep. But I’ll not be ta’en
in Carcë like a mouse in a trap.”
“I’m glad thou’lt not weep, madam. It is as great pity to see a woman
weep as a goose to go barefoot. Come, be not foolish. We must not part
forces now. We must bide this storm in Carcë.”
But she cried, “There is a curse on Carcë. Gro is lost to us and his
good counsel. Dear my lord, I see something wicked that like a thick
dark shadow shadoweth all the sky above us. What place is there not
subject to the power and regiment of Gorice the King? but he is too
proud: we be all too insolent overweeners of our own works. Carcë
hath grown too great, and the Gods be offended at us. The insolent
vileness of Corinius, the old dotard Corsus that must still be at his
boosing-can, these and our own private quarrels in Carcë must be our
bane. Repugn not therefore against the will of the Gods, but take the
helm in thine own hand ere it be too late.”
“Tush, madam,” said he, “these be but fray-bugs. Daylight shall make
thee laugh at ’em.”
But Prezmyra, queening it no longer, caught her arms about his neck.
“The odd man to perform all perfectly is thou. Wilt thou see us rushing
on this whirlpool and not swim for it ere it be too late?” And she said
in a choked voice, “My heart is near broke already. Do not break it
utterly. Only thou art left now.”
The chill dawn, the silent room, the guttering candles, and that
high-hearted lady of his, daunted for an instant from her noble and
equal courage, cowering like a bird in his embrace: these things were
like an icy breath that passed by and quailed him for a moment. He took
her by her two hands and held her off from him. She held her head high
again, albeit her cheek was blanched; he felt the brave comrade-grip of
her hands in his.
“Dear lass,” he said, “I cast me not to be odd with none of these spawn
of Demonland. Here is my hand, and the hand of my sons, heavy while
breath remaineth us against Demonland for thee and for the King. But
sith our lord the King hath made me a king, come wind, come weet, we
must weather it in Carcë. True is that saw, ‘For fame one maketh a
king, not for long living.’”
Prezmyra thought in her heart that these were fey words. But having now
put behind her hope and fear, she was resolved to kick against the wind
no more, but stand firm and see what Destiny would do.
XXXI: THE DEMONS BEFORE CARCË
HOW GORICE THE KING, ALBEIT SO STRONG A SORCERER, ELECTED THAT BY
THE SWORD, AND CHIEFLY BY THE LORD CORUND HIS CAPTAIN GENERAL,
SHOULD BE DETERMINED AS FOR THIS TIME THE EVENT OF THESE HIGH
MATTERS; AND HOW THOSE TWAIN, THE KING AND THE LORD JUSS, SPAKE
FACE TO FACE AT LAST; AND OF THE BLOODY BATTLE BEFORE CARCË,
AND WHAT FRUIT WAS GARNERED THERE AND WHAT MADE RIPE AGAINST
HARVEST.
Gorice the King sate in his chamber the thirteenth morning after these
tidings brought to Carcë. On the table under his hand were papers of
account and schedules of his armies and their equipment. Corund sate at
the King’s right hand, and over against him Corinius.
Corund’s great hairy hands were clasped before him on the table. He
spoke without book, resting his gaze on the steady clouds that sailed
across the square of sky seen through the high window that faced him.
“Of Witchland and the home provinces, O King, nought but good. All the
companies of soldiers which were appointed to repair to this part by
the tenth of the month are now come hither, save some bands of spearmen
from the south, and some from Estreganzia. These last I expect to-day;
Viglus writeth they come with him with the heavy troops from Baltary
I sent him to assemble. So is the muster full as for these parts:
Thramnë, Zorn, Permio, the land of Ar, Trace, Buteny, and Estremerine.
Of the subject allies, there’s less good there. The kings of Mynia
and Gilta: Olis of Tecapan: County Escobrine of Tzeusha: the king of
Ellien: all be here with their contingents. But there’s mightier names
we miss. Duke Maxtlin of Azumel hath flung off’s allegiance and cut
off your envoy’s ears, O King; ’tis thought for some supposed light
part of the sons of Corsus done to his sister. That docketh us thirty
score stout fighters. The lord of Eushtlan sendeth no answer, and now
are we advertised by Mynia and Gilta of his open malice and treason,
who did stubbornly let them the way hither through his country while
they hastened to do your majesty’s commands. Then there’s the Ojedian
levies, should be nigh a thousand spears, ten days overdue. Heming,
that raiseth Pixyland in Prezmyra’s name, will bring them in if he may.
Who also hath order, being on his way, to rouse Maltraëny to action,
from whom no word as yet; and I do fear treachery in ’em, Maltraëny and
Ojedia both, they have been so long of coming. King Barsht of Toribia
sendeth flat refusal.”
“It is known to you besides, O King,” said Corinius, “that the king of
Nevria came in last night, many days past the day appointed, and but
half his just complement.”
The King drew back his lips. “I will not dash his spirits by blaming
him at this present. Later, I’ll have that king’s head for this.”
“This is the sum,” said Corund. “Nay, then, I had forgot the Red Foliot
with’s folk, three hundred perchance, came in this morning.”
Corinius thrust out his tongue and laughed: “One hen-lobster such as he
shall scarce afford a course for this banquet.”
“He keepeth faith,” said Corund, “where bigger men turn dastards. ’Tis
seen now that these forced leagues be as sure as they were sealed with
butter. Your majesty will doubtless give him audience.”
The King was silent awhile, studying his papers. “What strength to-day
in Carcë?” he asked.
Corund answered him, “As near as may be two score hundred foot and
fifty score horse: five thousand in all. And, that I weigh most, O
King, big broad strong set lads of Witchland nigh every jack of ’em.”
The King said, “’Twas not well done, O Corund, to bid thy son delay
for Ojedia and Maltraëny. He might else have been in Carcë now with a
thousand Pixylanders to swell our strength.”
“I did that I did,” answered Corund, “seeking only your good, O King.
A few days’ delay might buy us a thousand spears.”
“Delay,” said the King, “hath favoured mine enemy. This we should have
done: at his first landing give him no time but wink, set on him with
all our forces, and throw him into the sea.”
“If luck go with us that may yet be,” said Corund.
The King’s nostrils widened. He crouched forward, glaring at Corund
and Corinius, his jaw thrust out so that the stiff black beard on
it brushed the papers on the table before him. “The Demons,” said
he, “landed i’ the night at Ralpa. They come on with great journeys
northward. Will be here ere three days be spent.”
Both they grew red as blood. Corund spake: “Who told you these tidings,
O King?”
“Care not thou for that,” said the King. “Enough for thee, I know it.
Hath it ta’en you napping?”
“No,” answered he. “These ten days past we have been ready, with what
strength we might make, to receive ’em, come they from what quarter
they will. So it is, though, that while we lack the Pixyland succours
Juss hath by some odds the advantage over us, if, as our intelligence
saith, six thousand fighting men do follow him, and these forced
besides with some that should be ours.”
“Thou wouldst,” said the King, “await these out of Pixyland, with what
else Heming may gather, afore we offer them battle?”
Said Corund, “That would I. We must look beyond the next turn of the
road, O my Lord the King.”
“That would not I,” said Corinius.
“That is stoutly said, Corinius,” said the King. “Yet remember, thou
hadst the greater force on Krothering Side, yet wast overborne.”
“’Tis that standeth in my mind, Lord,” said Corund. “For well I know,
had I been there I’d a fared no better.”
The Lord Corinius, whose brow had darkened with the naming of his
defeat, looked cheerfully now and said, “I pray you but consider, O
my Lord the King, that here at home is no room for such a sleight or
gin as that whereby in their own country they took me. When Juss and
Brandoch Daha and their stinking gaberlunzies do cry huff at us on
Witchland soil, ’tis time to give ’em a choke-pear. Which with your
leave, Lord, I will promise now to do, other else to lose my life.”
“Give me thy hand,” said Corund. “Of all men else would I a chosen thee
for such a day as this, and (were’t to-day to meet the whole power of
Demonland in arms) to stand perdue with thee for this bloody service.
But let us hear the King’s commands: which way soe’er he choose, we
shall do it right gladly.”
Gorice the King sat silent. One lean hand rested on the iron
serpent-head of his chair’s arm, the other, with finger outstretched
against the jutting cheekbone, supported his chin. Only in the deep
shadow of his eye-sockets a lambent light moved. At length he started,
as if the spirit, flown to some unsounded gulfs of time or space, had
in that instant returned to its mortal dwelling. He gathered the papers
in a heap and tossed them to Corund.
“Too much lieth on it,” said he. “He that hath many peas may put more
in the pot. But now the day approacheth when I and Juss must cast up
our account together, and one or all shall be brought to death and
bane.” He stood up from his chair and looked down on those two, his
chosen captains, great men of war raised up by him to be kings over two
quarters of the world. They watched him like little birds under the eye
of a snake. “The country hereabout,” said the King, “is not good for
horsemanship, and the Demons be great horsemen. Carcë is strong, and
never can it be forced by assault. Also under mine eye should my men of
Witchland acquit themselves to do the greatest deeds. Therefore will we
abide them here in Carcë, until young Heming come and his levies out
of Pixyland. Then shall ye fall upon them and never make an end till
the land be utterly purged of them, and all the lords of Demonland be
slain.”
Corinius said, “To hear is to obey, O King. Howsoever, not to dissemble
with you, I’d liever at ’em at once, ’stead of let them sit awhile and
refresh their army. Occasion is a wanton wench, O King, that is quick
to beckon another man if one look coldly on her. Moreover, Lord, could
you not by your art, in small time, with certain compositions?——”
But the King brake in upon him saying, “Thou knowest not what thou
speakest. There is thy sword; there thy men; these my commands. See
thou perform them punctually when time shall come.”
“Lord,” said Corinius, “you shall not find me wanting.” Therewith he
did obeisance and went forth from before the King.
The King said unto Corund, “Thou hast manned him well, this
tassel-gentle. There was some danger he should so mislike subjection
unto thee in these acts martial as it should breed some quarrel should
little speed our enterprise.”
“Think not you that, O King,” answered Corund. “’Tis grown like an
almanac for the past year, past date. A will feed out of my hand now.”
“Because thou hast carried it with him,” said the King, “in so
honourable and open plainness. Hold on the road thou hast begun, and be
mindful still that into thine hand is given the sword of Witchland, and
therein have I put my trust for this great hour.”
Corund looked upon the King with gray and quick eyes shining like unto
the eagle’s. He slapped his heavy sword with the flat of his hand:
“’Tis a tough fox, O my Lord the King; will not fail his master.”
Therewith, glad at the King’s gracious words, he did obeisance unto the
King and went forth from the chamber.
• • • • •
The same night there appeared in the sky impending over Carcë a blazing
star with two bushes. Corund beheld it in an open space betwixt the
clouds as he went to his chamber. He said nought of it to his lady
wife, lest it should trouble her; but she too had from her window seen
that star, yet spake not of it to her lord for a like reason.
And King Gorice, sitting in his chamber with his baleful books, beheld
that star and its fiery streamers, which the King rather noted than
liked. For albeit he might not know of a certain what way that sign
intended, yet was it apparent to one so deeply learned in nigromancy
and secrets astronomical that this thing was fatal, being of those
prodigies and ominous prognosticks which fore-run the tragical ends of
noble persons and the ruins of states.
• • • • •
The third day following, watchmen beheld from Carcë walls in the
pale morning the armies of the Demons that filled the whole plain
to southward. But of the succours out of Pixyland was as yet no sign
at all. Gorice the King, according as he had determined, held all
his power quiet within the fortress. But for passing of the time,
and because it pleased his mind to speak yet face to face with the
Lord Juss before this last mortal trial in arms should be begun
betwixt them, the King sent Cadarus as his herald with flags of truce
and olive-branches into the Demons’ lines. By which mission it was
concluded that the Demons should withdraw their armies three bowshots
from the walls, and they of Witchland should abide all within the hold;
only the King with fourteen of his folk unarmed and Juss with a like
number unarmed should come forth into the midst of the bateable ground
and there speak together. And this meeting must be at the third hour
after noon.
So either party came to this parley at the hour appointed. Juss went
bare-headed but, save for that, all armed in his shining byrny with
gorget and shoulder-plates damasked and embossed with wires of gold,
and golden leg-harness, and rings of red gold upon his wrists. His
kirtle was of wine-dark silken tissue, and he wore that dusky cloak the
sylphs had made for him, the collar whereof was stiff with broidery
and strange beasts worked thereon in silver thread. According to the
compact he bare no weapon; only in his hand a short ivory staff inlaid
with precious stones, and the head of it a ball of that stone which
men call Belus’ eye, that is white and hath within it a black apple,
the midst whereof a man shall see to glitter like gold. Very masterful
and proud he stood before the King, carrying his head like a stag that
sniffs the morning. His brethren and Brandoch Daha remained a pace
or two behind him, with King Gaslark and the lords Zigg and Gro, and
Melchar and Tharmrod and Styrkmir, Quazz with his two sons, and Astar,
and Bremery of Shaws: goodly men and lordly to look on, unweaponed all;
and wondrous was the sparkle of their jewels that were on them.
Over against them, attending on the King, were these: Corund king of
Impland, and Corinius called king of Demonland, Hacmon and Viglus
Corund’s sons, Duke Corsus and his sons Dekalajus and Gorius, Eulien
king of Mynia, Olis lord of Tecapan, Duke Avel of Estreganzia, the Red
Foliot, Erp the king of Ellien, and the counts of Thramnë and Tzeusha;
unweaponed, but armoured to the throat, big men and strong the most of
them and of lordly bearing, yet none to match with Corinius and Corund.
The King, in his mantle of cobra-skins, his staff-royal in his hand,
topped by half a head all those tall men about him, friend and foe
alike. Lean and black he towered amongst them, like a thunder-blasted
pine-tree seen against the sunset.