Domnei, James Branch Cabell [red scrolls of magic .TXT] 📗

a favour you have earned.”

Then these two went as mendicants⁠—for no one marks a beggar upon the highway⁠—into Narenta, and they sold this ring, in order that Demetrios might be conveyed oversea, and that the life of Melicent might be preserved. They found another vessel which was about to venture into heathendom. Their gold was given to the captain; and, in exchange, the bargain ran, his ship would touch at Assignano, a little after the ensuing dawn, and take Demetrios aboard.

Thus the two lovers of Melicent foreplanned the future, and did not admit into their accounting vagarious Dame Chance.

XIX How Flamberge Was Lost

These hunted men spent the following night upon the Needle, since there it was not possible for an adversary to surprise them. Perion’s was the earlier watch, until midnight, and during this time Demetrios slept. Then the proconsul took his equitable turn. When Perion awakened the hour was after dawn.

What Perion noted first, and within thirty feet of him, was a tall galley with blue and yellow sails. He perceived that the promontory was thronged with heathen sailors, who were unlading the ship of various bales and chests. Demetrios, now in the costume of his native country, stood among them giving orders. And it seemed, too, to Perion, in the moment of waking, that Dame Mélusine, whom Perion had loved so long ago, also stood among them; yet, now that Perion rose and faced Demetrios, she was not visible anywhere, and Perion wondered dimly over his wild dream that she had been there at all. But more importunate matters were in hand.

The proconsul grinned malevolently.

“This is a ship that once was mine,” he said. “Do you not find it droll that Euthyclos here should have loved me sufficiently to hazard his life in order to come in search of me? Personally, I consider it preposterous. For the rest, you slept so soundly, Messire de la Forêt, that I was unwilling to waken you. Then, too, such was the advice of a person who has some influence with the waterfolk, people say, and who was perhaps the means of bringing this ship hither so opportunely. I do not know. She is gone now, you see, intent as always on her own ends. Well, well! her ways are not our ways, and it is wiser not to meddle with them.”

But Perion, unarmed and thus surrounded, understood only that he was lost.

“Messire Demetrios,” said Perion, “I never thought to ask a favour of you. I ask it now. For the ring’s sake, give me at least a knife, Messire Demetrios. Let me die fighting.”

“Why, but who spoke of fighting? For the ring’s sake, I have caused the ship to be rifled of what valuables they had aboard. It is not much, but it is all I have. And you are to accept my apologies for the somewhat miscellaneous nature of the cargo, Messire de la Forêt⁠—consisting, as it does, of armours and gems, camphor and ambergris, carpets of raw silk, teakwood and precious metals, rugs of Yemen leather, enamels, and I hardly know what else besides. For Euthyclos, as you will readily understand, was compelled to masquerade as a merchant-trader.”

Perion shook his head, and declared: “You offer enough to make me a wealthy man. But I would prefer a sword.”

At that Demetrios grimaced, saying, “I had hoped to get off more cheaply.” He unbuckled the crosshandled sword which he now wore and handed it to Perion. “This is Flamberge,” Demetrios continued⁠—“that magic blade which Galas made, in the old time’s heyday, for Charlemagne. It was with this sword that I slew my father, and this sword is as dear to me as your ring was to you. The man who wields it is reputed to be unconquerable. I do not know about that, but in any event I yield Flamberge to you as a free gift. I might have known it was the only gift you would accept.” His swart face lighted. “Come presently and fight with me for Melicent. Perhaps it will amuse me to ride out to battle and know I shall not live to see the sunset. Already it seems laughable that you will probably kill me with this very sword which I am touching now.”

The champions faced each other, Demetrios in a half-wistful mirth, and Perion in half-grudging pity. Long and long they looked.

Demetrios shrugged. Demetrios said:

“For such as I am, to love is dangerous. For such as I am, nor fire nor meteor hurls a mightier bolt than Aphrodite’s shaft, or marks its passage by more direful ruin. But you do not know Euripides?⁠—a fidgety-footed liar, Messire the Comte, who occasionally blunders into the clumsiest truths. Yes, he is perfectly right; all things this goddess laughingly demolishes while she essays haphazard flights about the world as unforeseeably as travels a bee. And, like the bee, she wilfully dispenses honey, and at other times a wound.”

Said Perion, who was no scholar:

“I glory in our difference. For such as I am, love is sufficient proof that man was fashioned in God’s image.”

“Ey, there is no accounting for a taste in aphorisms,” Demetrios replied. He said, “Now I embark.” Yet he delayed, and spoke with unaccustomed awkwardness. “Come, you who have been generous till this! will you compel me to desert you here⁠—quite penniless?”

Said Perion:

“I may accept a sword from you. I do accept it gladly. But I may not accept anything else.”

“That would have been my answer. I am a lucky man,” Demetrios said, “to have provoked an enemy so worthy of my opposition. We two have fought an honest and notable duel, wherein our weapons were not made of steel. I pray you harry me as quickly as you may; and then we will fight with swords till I am rid of you or you of me.”

“Assuredly, I shall not fail you,” answered Perion.

These two embraced and kissed each other. Afterward