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

dilated eyes of one who has just come from a dark place. Callistion said:

“And so Demetrios is dead. I thought I would be glad when I said that. Hah, it is strange I am not glad.”

She rose, as though with hard effort, as a decrepit person might have done. You saw that she was dressed in a long gown of black, pleated to the knees, having no clasp or girdle, and bare of any ornamentation except a gold star on each breast.

Callistion said:

“Now, through my son, I reign in Nacumera. There is no person who dares disobey me. Therefore, come close to me that I may see the beauty which besotted this Demetrios, whom, I think now, I must have loved.”

“Oh, gaze your fill,” said Melicent, “and know that had you possessed a tithe of my beauty you might have held the heart of Demetrios.” For it was in Melicent’s mind to provoke the woman into killing her before worse befell.

But Callistion only studied the proud face for a long while, and knew there was no lovelier person between two seas. For time here had pillaged very sparingly; and if Dame Melicent had not any longer the first beauty of her girlhood, Callistion had nowhere seen a woman more handsome than this hated Frankish thief.

Callistion said:

“No, I was not ever so beautiful as you. Yet this Demetrios loved me when I, too, was lovely. You never saw the man in battle. I saw him, single-handed, fight with Abradas and three other knaves who stole me from my mother’s home⁠—oh, very long ago! He killed all four of them. He was like a horrible unconquerable god when he turned from that finished fight to me. He kissed me then⁠—blood-smeared, just as he was.⁠ ⁠… I like to think of how he laughed and of how strong he was.”

The woman turned and crouched by the dead boy, and seemed painstakingly to appraise her own reflection on the water’s surface.

“It is gone now, the comeliness Demetrios was pleased to like. I would have waded Acheron⁠—singing⁠—rather than let his little finger ache. He knew as much. Only it seemed a trifle, because your eyes were bright and your fair skin was unwrinkled. In consequence the man is dead. Oh, Melicent, I wonder why I am so sad!”

Callistion’s meditative eyes were dry, but those of Melicent were not. And Melicent came to the Dacian woman, and put one arm about her in that dim, sweet-scented place, saying, “I never meant to wrong you.”

Callistion did not seem to heed. Then Callistion said:

“See now! Do you not see the difference between us!” These two were kneeling side by side, and each looked into the water.

Callistion said:

“I do not wonder that Demetrios loved you. He loved at odd times many women. He loved the mother of this carrion here. But afterward he would come back to me, and lie asprawl at my feet with his big crafty head between my knees; and I would stroke his hair, and we would talk of the old days when we were young. He never spoke of you. I cannot pardon that.”

“I know,” said Melicent. Their cheeks touched now.

“There is only one master who could teach you that drear knowledge⁠—”

“There is but one, Callistion.”

“The man would be tall, I think. He would, I know, have thick, brown, curling hair⁠—”

“He has black hair, Callistion. It glistens like a raven’s wing.”

“His face would be all pink and white, like yours⁠—”

“No, tanned like yours, Callistion. Oh, he is like an eagle, very resolute. His glance bedwarfs you. I used to be afraid to look at him, even when I saw how foolishly he loved me⁠—”

“I know,” Callistion said. “All women know. Ah, we know many things⁠—”

She reached with her free arm across the body of Diophantus and presently dropped a stone into the pool. She said:

“See how the water ripples. There is now not any reflection of my poor face or of your beauty. All is as wavering as a man’s heart.⁠ ⁠… And now your beauty is regathering like coloured mists. Yet I have other stones.”

“Oh, and the will to use them!” said Dame Melicent.

“For this bright thieving beauty is not any longer yours. It is mine now, to do with as I may elect⁠—as yesterday it was the plaything of Demetrios.⁠ ⁠… Why, no! I think I shall not kill you. I have at hand three very cunning Cheylas⁠—the men who carve and reshape children into such droll monsters. They cannot change your eyes, they tell me. That is a pity, but I can have one plucked out. Then I shall watch my Cheylas as they widen your mouth from ear to ear, take out the cartilage from your nose, wither your hair till it will always be like rotted hay, and turn your skin⁠—which is like velvet now⁠—the colour of baked mud. They will as deftly strip you of that beauty which has robbed me as I pluck up this blade of grass.⁠ ⁠… Oh, they will make you the most hideous of living things, they assure me. Otherwise, as they agree, I shall kill them. This done, you may go freely to your lover. I fear, though, lest you may not love him as I loved Demetrios.”

And Melicent said nothing.

“For all we women know, my sister, our appointed curse. To love the man, and to know the man loves just the lips and eyes Youth lends to us⁠—oho, for such a little while! Yes, it is cruel. And therefore we are cruel⁠—always in thought and, when occasion offers, in the deed.”

And Melicent said nothing. For of that mutual love she shared with Perion, so high and splendid that it made of grief a music, and wrung a new sustainment out of every cross, as men get cordials of bitter herbs, she knew there was no comprehension here.

XXVI How Men Ordered Matters

Orestes came into the garden with Ahasuerus and nine other attendants. The master of Nacumera did not speak a syllable while