The Worm Ouroboros, Eric Rücker Eddison [epub ebook reader txt] 📗
- Author: Eric Rücker Eddison
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a common horse-boy. Which indeed thou art.”
Corinius struck spurs into his horse so that it bounded aloft; then
cried out and said to Prezmyra, “Incomparable lady, I shall show thee
my new horse, what rounds, what bounds, what stop he makes i’ the full
course of the gallop galliard.” And therewith, trotting up to her,
made his horse fetch a close turn in a flying manner upon one foot,
and so away, rising to a racking pace, an amble, and thence after some
double turns returning at the gallop and coming to a full stop by
Prezmyra.
“‘Tis very pretty, my lord,” said she. “Yet I would not be thy horse.”
“So, madam?” he cried. “Thy reason?”
“Why,” said she, “were I the most temperate, strongest, and of the
gentlest nature i’ the world, of the heat of the ginger, most swift to
all high curvets and caprioles, I’d fear my crest should fall i’ the
end, tired with thy spur-galling.”
Whereat the Lady Sriva fell alaughing.
Now came Gorice the King among them with his austringers and falconers
and his huntsmen with setters and spaniels and great fierce boar-hounds
drawn in a string. He rode upon a black mare with eyes fire-red,
so tall a tall man’s head scarce topped her withers. He wore a
leather gauntlet on his right hand, on the wrist whereof an eagle sat,
hooded and motionless, gripping with her claws. He said, “It is met.
Corsus goeth not with us: I fly him at higher game. His sons attend
him, losing not an hour in preparation for this journey. The rest,
take pleasure in the chase.”
So they praised the King, and rode forth with him eastaway. The Lady
Sriva whispered Corinius in the ear, “Enchantery, my lord, ruleth in
Carcë, and this it must be bringeth it about that none may see nor
touch me ‘twixt midnight hour and cock-crow save he that must be King
in Demonland.”
But Corinius made as not to hear her, turning toward the Lady
Prezmyra, that turned thence toward Gro. Sriva laughed. Merry of heart
she seemed that day, eager as the small merlin sitting on her fist,
and willing at every turn to have speech with King Gorice. But the
King heeded her not at all, and gave her not a look nor a word.
So rode they awhile, jesting and discoursing, toward the Pixyland
border, rousing herons by the way whereat none made better sport than
Prezmyra’s falcons, flown from her fist at many hundred paces as the
quarry rose, and mounting with it to the clouds in corkscrew flights,
ring upon ring, up and up till the fowl was but a speck in the upper
sky, and her falcons two lesser specks beside it.
But when they were come to the higher ground and the scrub and
underwood, then the King whistled his eagle off his fist. She flew
from him as if she would never have turned head again, yet presently
upon his shout came in; then soaring aloft waited on above his head,
till the hounds started a wolf out of the brake. Thereon she swooped
sudden as a thunderbolt; and the King lighted down and helped her with
his hunting-knife; and so again, thrice and four times till four
wolves were slain. And that was the greatest sport.
The King made much of his eagle, giving her the last wolf’s lights and
liver to gorge herself withal. And he gave her over to his falconer,
and said, “Ride we now into the flats of Armany, for I will fly my
haggard: my haggard eagle caught this March in the hills of Largos.
Many a good night’s rest hath she cost me, to wake her and man her and
teach her to know my call and be obedient. I will fly her now at the
big black boar of Largos that afflicteth the farmers hereabout these
two years past and bringeth them death and loss. So shall we see good
sport, if she be not too coy and wild.”
So the King’s falconer brought the haggard and the King took her on
his fist. A black eagle she was, red-beaked and glorious to look on.
Her jesses were of red leather with little silver varvels whereon the
crab of Witchland was engraved in small. Her hood was of red leather
tasselled with silver. First she bated from the fist of the King,
screaming and flapping her wings, but soon was quiet. And the King
rode forth, sending his great brindled hounds before him to put up the
boar; and all his company followed after.
In no long time they roused the boar, that turned red-eyed and moody-mad
on the King’s hounds, and charged among them ripping up the
foremost so that her bowels gushed out. The King unhooded his eagle
and flew her off his fist. But she, wild and ungentle, fastened not
upon the boar but on a hound that held him by the ear. She fixed her
cruel claws in the hound’s neck and picked his eyes out ere a man
might speak two curses on her.
Gro, that was by the King, muttered, “O, I like not that. ‘Tis
ominous.”
By then was the King ridden up, and thrust the boar through with his
spear, piercing him above and a little behind the shoulder so that the
blade went through the heart of him and he sank down dying in his
blood. Then the King smote his eagle in his wrath with the butt of his
spearshaft, but smote her lightly and with a glancing blow, and away
she flew and was lost to sight. And the King was angry, for all that
the boar was slain, for the loss of his hound and his haggard, and for
her ill behaviour. So he bade his huntsmen skin the boar and bring
home his skin to be a trophy, and so turned homeward.
After a while the King called to him the Lord Gro to ride forward a
little with him and out of earshot of the rest. The King said to him,
“Thou hast a discontented look. Is it that I send not Corund into
Demonland to crown the work he began at Eshgrar Ogo? Thou babblest
besides of omens.”
Gro answered, “My Lord the King, pardon my fears. For omens, indeed
‘tis oft as the saw sayeth, ‘As the fool thinketh, so the bell
blinketh.’ I spake in haste. Who shall weep Fate from her determined
purpose? But since you did name Corund’s name–”
“I named him,” said the King, “because I am still ringing in the ears
with women’s talk. Whereto also I doubt not thou art privy.”
“Only so much,” answered he, “that this is my thought: he were our
best, O King.”
“Haply so,” said the King. “But wouldst have me therefore hold my
stroke in the air while occasion knocketh at the gate? I’ll tell thee,
I am potent in art magical, but scarce may I stay time’s wing the
while I fetch Corund out of Impland and pack him westaway.”
Gro held his peace. “Well,” said the King, “I will hear more from
thee.”
“Lord,” he answered, “I like not Corsus.”
The King gave him a frump to his face. Gro held his peace again
awhile, but seeing the King would have more, he said, “Since it likes
your majesty to demand my counsel, I will speak. You know, Lord, of
all your men in Carcë Corinius is least my friend, and if I back him
you will be little apt to think me moved by interest. In my clear
judgement, if Corund be barred from this journey (as reason is, I
freely embrace it, he must bide in Impland, both to harvest there his
victories and to deny the road to Juss and Brandoch Daha if haply they
return from the Moruna, and besides, time, as you most justly say, O
King, calleth for speedy action): if he be barred, you have no better
than Corinius. A complete soldier, a tried captain, young, fierce, and
resolute, and one that sitteth not down again when once he standeth up
till that his will be accomplished. Send him to Demonland.”
“No,” said the King. “I will not send Corinius. Hast thou not seen
hawks that be in their prime and full pride for beauty and goodness.
but must be tamed ere they be flown at the quarry? Such an one is he,
and I will tame him with harshness and duress till I be certain of
him. Also I have sworn and told him, last year when in his drunkenness
he betrayed my counsel and o’erset all our plans, broke me from
Pixyland and set my prisoners free, that Corund and Corsus and Laxus
should be preferred and advanced before him until by quiet service he
shall purchase my good will again.”
“Give then the glory to Corsus, but to Corinius the rude work on’t for
a tiring. Send him as Corsus’s secretary, and your work shall be
better performed, O King.”
But the King said, “No. Thou art a fool to think he would receive it,
that being in disgrace could not humble himself but look bigger than
before. And certainly I will not ask him, and so give him the glory to
refuse it.”
“My Lord the King,” said Gro, “when I said unto you, I like not
Corsus, you did scoff. Yet ‘tis no simple niceness made me say it, but
because I do fear he shall prove a false cloth: he will shrink in the
wetting and can abide no trial.”
“By the blight of Sathanas,” said the King, “what crazy talk is this?
Hast forgot the Ghouls twelve years ago? True, thou wast not here. And
yet, what skills it? When the fame hath gone back and forth through
all the world of their great spill when Witchland stood i’ the
greatest strait that ever she stood, and more than any other Corsus
was to praise for our delivering. And since then, five years later,
when he held Harquem against Goldry Bluszco, and made him at last to
give over the siege and go home most ingloriously, and else had all
the Sibrion coast been the Demons’ appanage not ours.”
Gro bowed his head, having nought to say. The King was silent awhile,
then bared his teeth. “When I would burn mine enemy’s house,” he said,
“I choose me a good brand, full of pitch and rosin, apt to sputter
well i’ the fire and fry them. Such an one is Corsus, since he fared
to Goblinland ten years ago, on that ill faring which, had I been
King, I never had agreed to; when Brandoch Daha took him prisoner on
Lormeron field and despitefully used him, stripped him stark naked,
shaved him all of one side smooth as a tennis ball and painted him
yellow and sent him home with mickle shame to Witchland. Hell devour
me, but I think his heart is in this enterprise. I think thou’lt see
brave doings in Demonland when he comes thither.”
Still Gro was silent, and the King said after awhile, “I have given
thee reasons enow, I think, why I send Corsus into Demonland. There is
yet this other, that by itself weigheth not one doit, yet with the
others beareth down the balance if more thou lookest for. Unto mine
other servants great tasks have I given, and great rewards: to Corund
Impland and a king’s crown therefor, to Laxus the like in Pixyland, to
thee by anticipation Goblinland, for so I do intend. But this old
hunting-dog of mine sitteth yet in’s kennel with ne’er a bone to busy
his teeth withal.
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