Journey to the Isles of Atlantis and Other Fanciful Excursions

by Brian Stableford

  “Ah!” he said. “You’ve come at a good time, Meinherr Lorenz. I didn’t know how to inform you, but I have great need of you. My Gnomo is in full revolt. I’ll have to dismiss him soon, but I can’t get rid of him until I’ve found a man capable of rendering me the same services as him. That isn’t my greatest concern, however. Listen, it’s absolutely necessary that you come to find me tomorrow in a litter, and that you take me, firstly, into open country outside the town, and then into a deserted wood. It’s necessary that we’re alone, absolutely alone, except for a groom who can lead the horses—a stupid man, if possible. It’s also necessary that you buy a complete suit of armor of steel mail, the best and the lightest that you can find. It’s necessary to keep the secret for me, and come to fetch me at my door tomorrow morning at eight o’clock. Is that agreed?”

  “Damn, how you go on, Hyrcanus,” said Lorenz, laughing. “A litter, mules and a stupid servant aren’t difficult to procure, but I’ll need some money. A suit of mail would please me, but that costs a great deal, and as for an excursion to the woods with you tomorrow, that would doubtless be very agreeable, but I’ve been invited to an archery tournament followed by a banquet, and I confess that I’d regret that competition.”

  “No, you’ll never regret it, be certain of it. As for the gold, here it is. Do you want more? You can have it.” And, extending his hand toward Lorenz, he gave him a purse full of gold florins.

  “You have an excellent method of overcoming objections,” said Lorenz. “Tomorrow morning at eight, I’ll be at the rendezvous. Have you any further instructions?”

  “No, no, go, quickly. Let me finish my work. Oh, what a torture to be constrained to focus my attention, to lose the most precious of my hours, on mechanical toil, when all my thought is elsewhere, when I’m so close to reaching the goal!”

  He resumed filing an iron bar, furiously, and Lorenz ran to the armorer in order to make the purchase of the finest coat of steel mail that he could find.

  The next day, at ten o’clock, the litter carrying Hyrcanus and a rather voluminous package arrived, escorted by Lorenz on horseback, near a wood situated a league from Nuremberg. It belonged to Baron von Ittenbach; it was surrounded by ditches full of water and closed by a grille, and Lorenz, who loved hunting, always carried the key on his person. Lorenz stopped near the grille, ordered the muleteer to wait for him. First he took the large package, carried it into the wood, and placed it carefully at the foot of an oak tree. Then he came back to fetch Master Hyrcanus. He loaded him on to his shoulders as he would have done a child, and carried him to the mysterious object. Then, retracing his steps, he made sure that the grille was locked and returned to Hyrcanus.

  In the meantime, the little old man had not remained inactive. With an adroit hand, but trembling with emotion, he had opened the envelope that was sealed by lather traps, and unwrapped, before Lorenz’s astonished eyes, a gigantic pair of wings attached to a sort of breastplate with complicated articulations. Lorenz recognized the plumes of his eagles, mounted with so much artistry that the artificial wings folded up like those of a living bird.

  “Come closer,” said Hyrcanus. “There! Put on this breastplate, but first, take off your clothes and put on the coat of mail. It’s necessary.”

  Astonished, Lorenz obeyed. He equipped himself in a trice, and appeared to Hyrcanus like a Saint Michael, save for the sword. He was so handsome thus, with his great folded wings, that Hyrcanus exclaimed: “Truly, Lorenz, you seem more like a archangel than a human being. But listen: this the moment that will decide whether I’m an insensate or a man of genius. Come closer, bend down, and on your life, do what I tell you, nothing more and nothing less. I’m going to set up the mechanism, imprint the movement to your wings. As soon as you feel them quiver, raise your arms and bring our hands together, as if to swim, and launch yourself! If I’ve succeeded, you’ll soar, and you’ll be able to direct yourself like a swimmer in water. But don’t go up high. Remain close to the ground, and when you want to stop or moderate the movement of your wings, press this spring.”

  Smiling, Lorenz said to himself: The poor man is mad; if I launched myself from a high place…but to leave the ground with this heavy apparatus, this armor? What folly!

  However, he leaned over toward Hyrcanus, and the latter, having touched a few controls, said: “What do you feel?”

  “A vibration over the breast,” said Lorenz. “Something palpitating, like a heart of steel added to mine. Oh, my God! I can feel myself rising up, the wings extending, my feet leaving the ground!”

  “Swim!” cried Hyrcanus, as pale as a specter.

  “I’m flying!” said Lorenz. “Victory!”

  And he started swimming through the air, twenty feet above the ground, turning, gliding, descending again at will, intoxicated by joy and surprise, and while he floated around the clearing, he saw another marvel: Hyrcanus walking, even running, following all his movements, his eyes on fire, his arms raised. Joy had cured and rejuvenated him; he was no longer the same man.

  “Come down!” he shouted “I’ve only set up the mechanism for ten minutes. Your wings are about to close!”

  Lorenz came back down, and as he set foot on the grass, his wings folded up gently, and the heart of steel ceased beating.

  The inventor and his young friend embraced then, and Lorenz cried: “Truly, you ought to render great thanks to the good God, Master Hyrcanus. You’re walking!”

  “I didn’t think of that—yes, in truth. I’m walking! Oh, Lorenz, it seems to me that it’s the fire of Heaven that is circulating in my veins. I feel strong and agile, as I was at twenty years. I want to try my wings.

  “Here they are, Master. Do you want the armor too?”

  “No, the experiment is done. The armor will be necessary to make an aerial voyage, in order to brave arrows and bullets, but we aren’t risking anything here.”

  He equipped himself, and soon, rising to the air, hovered above Lorenz’s head—not with the same grace as him, assuredly, but just as easily.

  At the moment when he descended to the grass again, Lorenz lowered his eyes toward the ground; he thought he saw in a bush a hideous head with large bright eyes under eyebrows full of greenish mud. Seizing his sword, he ran toward the apparition, but the creature he had glimpsed was already fleeing, and he heard it breaking branches in its passage and hurling itself into the water. When Lorenz arrived at the edge of the ditch, the water was still agitated, but he could not see anyone.

  Not knowing whether it was a matter of a man or an animal, he returned to Hyrcanus, who was occupied in wrapping up his precious apparatus.

  “Let’s return to Nuremberg,” said the inventor. “I’m in haste to get there in order to make a few improvements.”

  “Let me fly again a little,” said Lorenz. “I’d like to rise up higher than the trees to see whether I can perceive Drakenberg.”

  “What business have you with Drakenberg? It’s necessary not to risk being seen. The greatest secrecy is necessary to me. I want to leave for Vienna. I want you to try my wings before the Emperor. He alone can recompense me for my discovery.”

  “But what tells you that I want to play the acrobat before the Emperor?” said Lorenz. “I come from to good a family for that.”

  Hyrcanus shivered. “What!” he cried. “You’re refusing me? Oh, Meinherr, that would be very cruel. Remember that I’ve counted on you. Where will I find united, as in your person, courage, agility and intelligence? What I fine spectacle it would be for the Imperial court to see you such as you were just now, floating in the air like a celestial messenger! Oh, Meinherr Lorenz, don’t refuse me. Come with me to Vienna. I’ll give you anything you wish; I’m rich, very rich, and ready to make any sacrifice in order to enjoy my glory, to become, thanks to my invention, the most famous man in the world.”

  “But you’re no longer infirm,” said Lorenz. “What prevents you from making use of your wings yourself?”

  “Alas,” said Hyrcanus, “I’m ol
d, I’m ugly, and in any case, I sense that joy alone has rendered me strength; it’s abandoning me already. I’m suffering, my limbs are stiffening. Oh, Lorenz, don’t abandon me. I’ll make you rich and famous. Think about it! You’ve dreamed of going to war. Think what services a winged soldier might render in sieges and battles!”

  Lorenz felt his resolve shaken. That marvelous adventure and the promises of rapid fortune tempted him.

  “Perhaps I’ll decide,” he said. “But let me try your wings again.”

  He tried them again, convinced himself of the excellence of Hyrcanus’s invention, and only put one condition on his consent, which was that, the following night, he would make an aerial voyage to Drakenberg Castle. Delighted, Hyrcanus initiated him in all the details of the mechanism, making sure that he could control the apparatus perfectly; and, having returned to Nuremberg, the inventor and his aide awaited nightfall impatiently.

  VII. Nocturnal Voyage

  Night finally came, calm and serene, but moonless, and the stars, scintillating in a cloudless sky, were illuminating the bell-towers of Nuremberg softly when Hyrcanus, leaning on a staff, and Lorenz, carrying his wings, went to the bottom of the clockmaker’s garden. The garden was situated near the ramparts. The curfew had sounded a long time ago, and everything was dormant. Hyrcanus opened a little door; it opened very near to a stairway leading up to the rampart. Lorenz equipped himself, shook the old man’s hand, and climbed the stairway. Soon, Hyrcanus heard the sound of wings and saw a black form launch itself into the air. He listened carefully, The sentinel placed on a nearby tower had not heard anything. The hour sounded, and the distant voice of the watchman placed in the belfry cried: “All’s well! Pray for the dead!”

  Troubled, Hyrcanus wrapped himself in a fur-lined mantle and waited, unable to resolve to go back inside. He counted the hours with anxiety. Midnight, two o’clock and three o’clock resonated in the bell-towers. The stars were beginning to pale and anguish was already gripping Hyrcanus’s heart when a flutter of wings caused him to raise his head, and Lorenz, pale and exhausted, alighted next to him. Hyrcanus made him drink a cordial and bombarded him with questions.

  Lorenz recovered promptly, took off his intact wings, and, sustaining the inventor’s steps, took him back to the house. They lit a fire and took some nourishment, but Lorenz remained somber and silent. He told Hyrcanus that he was obliged to return to Ittenbach and would not see him again for two days. Hyrcanus begged him not to stay any longer with his brother, and promised him that he would employ those two days in making the preparations for the journey to Vienna.

  They separated at sunrise, and Lorenz did not take long to go through the gates of Nuremberg.

  Soon, while riding through the fields where the reapers were already working, Lorenz, exhausted by fatigue, reviewed his nocturnal adventures mentally, and wondered whether he had not been dreaming.

  To begin with, he had flown toward the mountains in a calm and rapid flight, and, by the gentle light of the stars, he had perceived the towers of Drakenberg, where the seigneurial banner floated. In spite of the advanced hour—it was after midnight—lights were burning in several casements. Only one, however, interested Lorenz; that was the little lamp illuminating Hilda’s room at the summit of the western tower. In order not to be perceived by the watchman stationed on the tower, Lorenz flew lower and, skimming the walls, rose up silently and came to alight on Hilda’s balcony. Her window was open. Not daring to enter, he called out softly and rapped on the window-panes. Profound silence. He advanced his head; the chamber was empty. A few scattered garments, an open casket from which a string of pearls emerged, and a bouquet of roses had been placed on the bed, which had not been disturbed. The chamber was in disorder, bit full of perfumes and a festival air.

  A few distant chords of music reached Lorenz’s ears. He went out again and, resuming his flight, passed over the western wall and came to hover over the courtyard of the castle. It was very large, and in the center, backed up against the tower, was the chapel. The entire castle appeared to be deserted, although illuminated, but the chapel was full of people and so well illuminated that the stained glass windows were resplendent. It was there that people were singing. The door was closed.

  Lorenz hovered above the different buildings. He saw drunken servants sharing the debris of a feast and drinking to the health of the masters of the castle. He circled around the chapel, and, finally perceiving a window from which a fairly large section of the stained glass was missing, he was able to see what was happening inside.

  The castle’s chaplain was blessing a marriage. Prince von Drakenberg, clad in crimson brocade, drawn up to his full height, wearing with dignity his Golden Fleece necklace, his fifty years, his gray beard and his noble forehead white under the helmet, was leading a veiled woman of gracious height to the altar, whose long train of white and silver damask as being carried by two beautiful young women. Neither of them was Hilda, and Lorenz searched for her in vain in the audience with his eyes. But when the ceremony, which was nearing its end, was terminated, the bride returned to her prie-Dieu, and poor Lorenz recognized Hilda, beautiful, smiling and triumphant.

  If he had not been clinging to the grilles that protected the window he would have fallen, forgetting his wings. He went pale and cold; then the blood returned violently to his face, his ears buzzed, anger chased away dolor and, rising into the air, he departed in swift flight....

  Soon, however, he returned to Hilda’s balcony, placed in her casket a ribbon, a glove and flowers that she had given him, tore up a beautiful lace, shredded the roses and would doubtless have committed other follies had he not heard a noise in the staircase. Then, taking flight again, he resumed the route to Nuremberg through the silent air.

  Yes, it was like a dream, and yet it was true. Whether a man’s breast is covered by warrior armor or a monk’s habit, black or crimson, whether it is ornamented by regal diamonds or the stolen wings of eagles, the heart, alas, remains no less vulnerable, and all the wealth and inventions in the world can do nothing to appease its pain.

  Lorenz was therefore riding sadly, without even looking at the mountains, which he was approaching, or the eagles soaring in the sky, when he heard trumpets resonating.

  Blum pricked up his ears; Lorenz hoisted himself up on his saddle and looked in all directions. At a bend in the road he perceived a company of horsemen who were coming toward him, with banners deployed, plumes and cloaks in the wind. His brother was at the head of the troop, armed from head to toe. On seeing him he cried: “Come on, then, Lorenz, what were you doing in Nuremberg? A message from the Duke of Bavaria arrived last night. He’s summoned us. War has been declared. One of us has to stay in Ittenbach to guard the schloss, and the other must depart at the head of my vassals. The Duke left the choice to me. Ittenbach is an important fortress that might be besieged.”

  “Stay here, I beg you, brother,” said Lorenz. “Let me replace you in the army. It’s my dearest desire, as you know. My friends, would you not be content to have me as your captain?”

  “Long live Ritter Lorenz von Ittenbach!” cried the dozen men-at-arms. “Long live our captain!”

  And Baron Georg, thinking of the happiness that his wife would experience on seeing him return, dismounted, exchanged his armor for his younger brother’s clothes, gave him his purse, his rapier, his pistols and his fine charger, made him a thousand recommendations, embraced him, and, bestriding Blum, took the road to Ittenbach.

  As he watched him draw away, one of the men-at-arms, passing his hand over his eyes and beard, said: “Will the rest of us ever return to our homes? More than one of us, alas, might not see the valley of Ittenbach again.”

  “Sound, trumpets!” cried Lorenz. “Saddle up, my friends! The rendezvous is in Nuremberg at sunset. Roll on the battle! Roll on the victory! Hurrah for the noble Duke! Hurrah for Bavaria!”

  And they set forth at a rapid trot.

  VIII. The Tempest

  The affluence of tro
ops into Nuremberg was so great that the city was unable to lodge them all; it was necessary to establish a camp in the meadows on the right bank of the Peignitz. Not daring to emerge from the town, the burgers and their wives went to gaze from the height of the ramparts at the banners and the movements of the various army cops. Hyrcanus had himself carried there by Gnomo. He had lost the use of his legs again. Anxious, desolate not to have seen Lorenz return, he bombarded Gnomo with questions and sent him to obtain information several times a day.

  Gnomo, surlier and ruder than ever, ended up saying to him: “Even if you put me to the torture, I can only repeat to you what I’ve said a hundred times: Ritter von Ittenbach is in the camp; he’s occupied from morning to dusk exercising his soldiers, and hasn’t come into town once. I’ve had him told that you’re asking for him, and he replied that he would come to see you after the war.”

  “After the war!” said Hyrcanus. “The fool! And what if he’s killed?”

  “If he’s killed,” said Gnomo, “there will be one coxcomb fewer, and your secret will be kept!”

  “What secret?” said Hyrcanus, going pale. He was sitting on the escarp of the rampart. Gnomo, crouched beside him, had his back to the country and was gazing at the roof of his master’s house.”

  “What secret?” Hyrcanus repeated.

  “The secret of your wings, of course.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Yes, put on a show, lie, it’s all the same to me. I was in the wood. I heard everything. Last Tuesday night I saw Lorenz take off from your garden and I saw him come back. I know everything. I have a key to your workshop. Blush, Hyrcanus, at having scorned the aid of a servant like me, in order to give your confidence to the first comer, a child, He’s abandoning you; that’s good. It’s just the two of us now. I want half your glory, half your profits. I want to go to Vienna and use your wings in front of the Emperor.”