The Worm Ouroboros, Eric Rücker Eddison [epub ebook reader txt] 📗

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

sundown 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

roofbeams 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

tomorrow 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, forseeing (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