by E R Eddison
'It was a pity,' the Admiral said, 'that your lordship abode not here to see to it, 'stead of go north to Rialmar.'
The wind roared in the chimney, and sent with a down-blow a great smother of smoke into the room. Lessingham smiled, lifting his goblet against the lamplight. 'You think so?' he said, and drank slowly, as tasting some private memory. But the wine was red. And no bubbles quickened its inward parts.
He stood up and went to the western window behind his seat and, with hands for blinkers to shut out the reflections and the lamplight, peered through the glass into the darkness. The wind came in gusts that lasted two or three minutes at a time, striking the house till the solid masonry quivered: clatter of casements, squealing under the eaves and behind the wainscots, lifting of the arras, lampflames ducking and upflaring; without, trees bent and grass laid flat: a shaking, a leaping, a stamping over the hillside: then sudden silence and calm.
Lessingham, in this din, had not heard the door open behind him; and now, turning from the window, he saw stand in the threshold a man of his guard that said, upon the salute, 'Lord, there attendeth your commands one that nameth himself the Lord Romyrus out of Fingiswold, new ridden from the north, and prays you admit him. And bade me say, 'tis evil tidings, as he were liever not be bearer of unto your lordship.'
Lessingham bade admit him: 'Nay, go not, my lord Admiral. This is our late cashiered Constable: whatso he will say, can say it as well to both of us. I trust him but little, nor his news neither.'
'I like not tidings that come upon a storm,' said Jeronimy.
Lessingham stroked his beard and smiled. 'Omens were ever right, my lord. Let but the event answer the bodement, we say, Behold it was foretold us! If not, say, Such omens work by contraries.' The windows rattled, and the door in a loud gust of wind blew open. Lessingham, standing with folded arms and unruffled brow and in a posture of idle elegance with his shoulders against the pillar of the fire-place, waited at ease, stirring not at all when Romyrus entered, save for a gracious word and movement of the head to bid him welcome.
Romyrus came in: behind him the door shut to: they regarded one another in silence a minute, Jeronimy, Lessingham, and he.
Romyrus was all spattered with mud from spurs to chest. He was like a man that has gone many nights without closing eyelid. There was ten days' growth of beard on his cheek: his face had a yellowed withered look, like a corpse's dug out of some recent grave; and he had the fear in his eyes like a hunted fox's. Lessingham took him by the hand, made him sit, poured out a great bumper of wine, and made him drink it down. 'Whence come you?'
He answered, 'From Rialmar.'
'How then? Did her highness send you?'
He shook his head. His eyes, ringed round like an owl's, seemed now like a dead fish's eyes, goggling and charged with blood, as they looked into Lessingham's. 'What then?'
Without, the wind went whining down Fitherywater like a wounded beast.
'Speak, man,' said Lessingham.
Romyrus said, 'Derxis holds Rialmar.' With a kind of moan he pitched forward on the table, his face buried in his hands.
The silence congealed like blood. Out of it Lessingham said, 'What of the Queen?'
He answered, yet grinding his face against the table, 'She is dead.'
Jeronimy, that had missed these words, saw Lessingham stagger where he stood against the fire-place and turn ghastly. 'Your excellence's wound,' he said, starting up. But Lessingham, seeming to gather himself like a serpent coiled, as the wind again hit the house, caught out a dagger and leapt at Romyrus, shouting terribly, 'A lie! and here's your death for it!' The Admiral, swift as had been praised in a man of half his years, sprang to Lessingham's armed hand, so turning the stroke, which yet ripped from the man's shoulder down to the huckle-bone. Lessingham threw him off and, dropping the dagger, sank upon the settle. Romyrus slid from chair to floor with a blubbering noise. The Admiral went to him, raised him, looked to the wound. Lessingham caught the bell-rope, gave it a tang: soldiers ran in: bade them see to Romyrus, bear him out, call a chirurgeon: so sank upon the couch again and there sat bolt upright, staring as a man should stare into horror of darkness.
The wind, in its alternating fits of raging and dying, came again: first a soughing of it far off in the southwest and whistlings far away; then the return, as if some troll or evil wight should run with intermittent bursts and pauses, nearer and nearer, until with a howl of wind and huge flappings as of wings and the lashing of rain, it once more smote the house, vaulting, leading the wild round about and about as of violent waterquakes, riding the roof-tree till it was as if the roof must founder: then, in a gasp, quiet again.
Late that night Amaury, spent with long riding from the north and his horse near foundered, rode in to Rivershaws.
All night Lessingham lay upon his bed, open-eyed.
And the darkness within said: I have consumed and eat up that which was within. Forehead, indeed; but no mind inhabits behind it. Eyes, but there dwells no more anything within that might receive their message. Outward ears, servants of deafness. This throat, since I swallowed all below, is become but the shudder only, above this pit that is me within you.
And the darkness at his left hand said: Hands: fit for all noble uses. Ay, grip the bedside: is that sweet? Hands entertained for your soul's liege ambassadors, so often, into such courts: but now never again for ever.
And the darkness at his right hand laughed like a skull and said: Noble uses, as to-night! aim blade against him that ran to you, a wounded snipe to a stoat, to bring you true tidings, but you lay bloody hands upon.
And the darkness that was within said again: I strive. I will burst this shell that was you. I, that am not, will swell up like a blue poisoned corpse and burst and deflower all being.
And the darkness that was above and beneath said: I am heavy: I am fallen: I draw you: the weight and the woe for ever in your vitals of a misbegotten and never to be delivered birth.
And the darkness that was at his feet said: For then Amaury came (Lessingham looked in the darkness towards the other bed where Amaury lay unsleeping): Amaury, mat would have died a hundred deaths in Rial-mar to have saved her; but when she had drunk the cup—
The darkness within, and the darkness above, and the darkness beneath, sank, until the drag-hooks became an agony beyond mortal agonies.
The waning moon, in the grey latter hours, said: I wax and I wane: the sickle, the plenilune, the folding darkness. I change, and I change not. You have said it: Beyond time and circumstance. You have said: Upon no conditions.
And as the waning moon to the full, so was now the radiance as of a lunar rainbow that suffused that bedchamber upon memories, a year old that night, of Ambremefine: Vandermast's, 'An old fool that is yet wise enough to serve your ladyship:' Vandermast's, 'There is no other wisdom;' and again, 'No other power.' And that lady's, 'Does that need wisdom?' as she looked at the moon.
xx
Thunder Over Rerek
the baying to ragnarok lesstngham forces peace beroald's fore-judgement the vicar will still play machiavel yet is seemingly persuaded coming of the parry to argyanna homage done by him to barganax the duke and his vicar strange brotherhood barganax to fiorinda.
Lessingham upon that night's morrow took his way westwards with his army slowly towards Mornagay, sending word before so that all the bruit should run in all Rerek, and so through Meszria to Zayana, of this back-winter, and of need come upon all that stood now in civil strife to lay that by, and think on an enemy indeed. He had it now fully from Amaury: how Derxis, by the employment of spies, by traitors whom he had greased well in their hands, or by some other advisoes, had obtained entry for himself and some few of his men into Rialmar; where, with the chancing together of several matters which fell out well to his hand and he used them better, he had contrived his purpose so close as procure the murder, at one chop, of Bodenay and a dozen more. Which done, the Queen's power, made headless, might no longer but sever and dissolve, leaving this De
rxis to be his own carver: a beast un-merciless.
Lessingham, now for two days, scarce took bite nor sup. Whether he slept none knew: only that not an hour in the night but somewhere was he to be seen about the camp, armed and in his riding-coat. Save to give orders, not a word had he for any man, neither durst any speak with him. It was, through these days, as if there rode there a man abiding indeed in his bodiness, but lapped in lead: in all else deceased, but his great heart carried him. And now began to be heard in a susurration about men's ears, the thing that in all those months past in Rialmar had not been spoke nor imagined except by Derxis, with so wise a discretion had Lessingham and the Queen refrained themselves: but now it was said, What grief was this that should so benumb a man, for but loss of his Queen? and it was answered, Past question, she loved him paramour and no other. Which coming to Amaury's ears, he was highly displeased: said to him that let fall the word, 'I should slit thy tongue for chattering so wide,' and by all discreet means wrought to scotch this prittle-prattle. But the rumour, once sown, ran like quitch-grass in a garden, much underground; and yet to no bad effect, knitting their hearts the closer in his service as to a man not great only, but great and unhappy. For of such kind were most that followed Lessingham, that their loves grew up as the watercresses, slowly, but with a deep root: not so ready to praise the sun at his uprising as worship him at his downgate.
The third afternoon they came to Mornagay. Lessingham would not lie here, but press on by Killary and so by the Tivots and Scorradale Heath to be in Bardar-dale before nightfall. Amaury rode with him, and, after the carriage beasts were well through the ford, they two drew ahead. On the great open mile-wide ridge of the heath Lessingham reined in Maddalena and, turning in the saddle, looked back northwards. The sun was set in a clear sky: the heath was become a darkness made up of all shades of blackish greens: the sky a pal-lour of all greys akin to blue: tarns and standing waters gleamed lighter than the sky itself, as if lit from under.
From the east, little white wisps of mist came like feelers drifting from right to left over the dark heathland.
Lessingham spoke: "You were with me that night thirteen months ago, in Mornagay.'
'Yes’
'Never name it again. Never name to me again aught that came of it' ‘No, my lord.'
'What think you, Amaury? is it true that all things have their life, their limits, their diseases, and their death?'
'All things?'
'Yes, all.'
‘Not all, my lord.'
'What then? what hath not?'
'You have bid me never name it'
'I say, all things, Amaury. Dispute it not, else God knows I might murder you. I am in these days become a wild beast, first made fierce with tying, and then let loose. And not I alone: so is all become.'
*I hope, not murder me, that loved you 'bove the world.'
'Yes, you and all. Then gallop apace to my ruin.' 'O, this is madness.'
*No,' said Lessingham, and his voice was like the muttering of distant thunder: 'it is like the Twilight of the Gods: the baying of the hell-dog before Gnipa's cave: the crowing of the cocks in the three worlds: will you call that nightingales?—
Yes, Amaury: "The fast must be loos'd, and the Wolf run free."'
Amaury sat silent, his jaw set. Those feelers had by now drawn a coverlet of mist over all the heath, hiding the ground. On the hummock where Lessingham and Amaury waited, their horses' feet were in the mist but their own heads in clear air, and the stars clear and bright above them.
Lessingham laughed. 'Say over to me again, those words he used. For God knows I have dreamed and waked and dreamed till I know not well which is dream and which true.'
'I dare not say it.'
'Say it,' said Lessingham terribly.
Amaury obeyed: 'He said, "If not to be my Queen, then you shall at least be no longer the strumpet of a soldier of fortune." '
A full minute Lessingham neither spoke nor moved. His face, seen sideways, proud and unreadable against the May night, showed like stone or iron. There came the ring of bridles up from the Scorradale side, of the vanward nearing the brow. Lessingham shook rein, turned and rode away down before them into Bardardale. Amaury, following beside Maddalena's off hind quarter, heard him say in his teeth, ‘I have shut my mind against these things.' Then suddenly drawing rein and staring into Amaury's eyes through the darkness: 'Remember that,' he said. 'But remember, too, not winged horses shall prevail him to outskip my vengeance. And so, Amaury, to work.'
There went messengers now, while Lessingham and the Admiral lay in Bardardale, betwixt them and the Chancellor before Laimak. By this, in a few days it was brought to a meeting betwixt them, and a charter of peace sealed with Lessingham upon provisoes and a truce to endure until the fourteenth day of June, and in the mean season counsel to be had for that matter with the Duke, late come up to Argyanna after sojourning at home awhile in Zayana. Upon the tenth of June came these lords, Lessingham, Beroald, and Jeronimy, with Amaury, to Argyanna. Here with the Duke was Count Zapheles, and the Lords Melates and Barrian and a dozen besides, men of mark. Medor, wielding by procuration the ducal power, abode yet in Zayana.
Lessingham was greatly feasted and nobly received, nor, when they fell to their business, seeking of agreement, were they slow to find sured ground: at first, common cause against Derxis, to destroy him and revenge his abomination in Rialmar: secondly, King Mezentius's lawful issue being by two murders in this short while miserably dead, there remained no colourable pretender to the throne but the Duke, whose claim thus stood wa-terfast. But when it was to speak of the Lord Horius Parry, and upon what terms the Duke and his would take him into their peace again, straight they lost (as for agreeing) more in a minute than they got in a day: Lessingham of the one side, all they of the other against him. The Duke required surrender without all conditions: 'Which, come what will, he cannot choose but be forced unto, in a month or less. By God, I discommend your wit, my Lord Lessingham, if you think I know not a fox by his bush now, or think, now I hold him earthed in Laimak, I'll let this one wend free at your asking, to play me such another touch as last winter he did.'
'He will never surrender without conditions,' said Lessingham. 'Why should he? Would you or I?'
'Well,' said the Duke, 'no more blind reckonings. This is the one sure card: soon as ever I have him, to cut off his head.'
Lessingham answered, 'We be all agreed that it is time we began to destroy our enemies, and first let us begin at Derxis that hath done villanies not to be spoken and threateneth our mere being. For this, we must give over even rightful quarrels amongst ourselves, else can we never achieve it. And the Vicar is a great captain not easily to be spared in the manage of so great a war as this. Besides, our folk of Rerek are stubborn and hard and can not easily digest the government of a stranger.'
'They have by many a hundred rebelled against him now,' said Barganax.
'That,' replied Lessingham, 'was when I was not by.' 'They will obey you sooner than him. Let him go.'
Lessingham stroked his beard. 'No. If your grace take that way, I sit out.'
Two days they argued it. The second, the Chancellor took Lessingham apart: said, 'My Lord Lessingham, you have gotten the right ear of his grace; butin this you will not move him. This ill weed of yours, maugre your warming and watering, hath now been parched up. Only bethink you: upon what consideration, but of this man alone, should the Duke have seized power in Rerek and, by implication, in Fingiswold? 'Gainst his sister he'd ne'er a stood usurper, but 'gainst this man only that under her name cloaked his large ambitions. Your lordship hath heard how myself did in aid of that enterprise allege a law which barreth women from kingdom to the end the realm fall not into the hands of a strange prince or nation. 'Tis of questionable authority: I lent it mine, not for any quarrel with the Queen's highness (on whom be peace), but because I would not trust this man. You and he sort very ill together. If conscience will not suffer you to oppose his interest, then get you gone
for a season: leave him to us. We shall speedily deal with him.'
'The things,' replied Lessingham, 'which be main counts against his highness my cousin were done when I was beyond the Wold upon the Queen's business. For all that was then misdone I have, upon his behalf, offered atonement.'
‘I see your lordship will not hear reason,' said Beroald. 'Well, you are like to pay dear upon your bond.'
'That the Gods must rule,' answered he. 'But remember, I am upon safe conduct here in Argyanna, and with right upon safe conduct to return to that army I have afoot, and with that, be it little in numbers, I have ere this done somewhat. And remember the lord Admiral is upon parole to go back with me if this peace be not concluded. And if his grace will have no peace (and a hard peace for the other is this I offer you, and good for his grace), but will, as is now said, slay the Vicar, then I will promise you this: it shall be so countervenged that it shall be spoken of a hundred years hereafter.'
Beroald said, 'We will not talk on thunder.'
'Lessingham,' said the Duke, coming upon them in this: 'the man is not by a noble heart such as yours in any way to be avouched or defended. Must our friendship fly in pieces for sake of such a villain?'
'If our friendship, my lord Duke, (which the Gods forfend) must fly in pieces, 'tis because, to end his he-roical great defence that hath so long time held you off and your armies, you will in cold blood use this same cruelty I have so oft checked in himself, of the beheading-block. But if my friendship be aught, then prove it: for I have told your grace I will, so you give him but to me, be answerable upon my honour and upon my life that he shall all repay and no more disease you.'
'But to what wild purpose—?' Barganax paused silent for a minute, looking in Lessingham's eyes. There sat in them a bantering mocking look that he knew, but as belonging to other eyes: not to these speckled grey eyes of Lessingham, but to green eyes, beaconing as from every unrest and from every incertitude and peril, which things, taking on those eyes' allurance, burned high and desirable beyond all lusts and fires.
