Once upon a Spring morn ou-2

by Dennis L McKiernan

  “Ah, oui, the bones,” said Celeste. “We have seen your handiwork, my lord.”

  The Abulhol glanced at the city and nodded. “Desecrating tomb raiders all.”

  “A well-deserved fate, my lord.”

  The Sphinx nodded, then said, “Speak of this quest, and perhaps I will let you live, mayhap even aid you.

  But first I would have your names.”

  “My Lord Sphinx, I am Celeste, Princesse de la Foret de Printemps, and my companion is my betrothed, Sieur Roel, Chevalier du Manoir d’Emile.” Celeste deeply curtseyed and Roel made a sweeping bow.

  Clearly flattered by their courtesy, the Abulhol canted his head forward in acknowledgment and said, “Ah, royalty and chivalry. Well, then, since you have passed through the shrine to Meketaten without taking ought, and since you are a princess and a knight, no tomb raiders are you. Hence, I will let you live.” The Sphinx ONCE UPON A SPRING MORN / 277

  then sheathed his great claws and said, “But before I give aid, I would have you speak of this quest.” Celeste said, “ ’Tis a tale better told by Sieur Roel.” And she stepped back while Roel stepped forward.

  “It begins many seasons past, Lord Sphinx, when I was but a lad. My sister, Avelaine, was troubled by her upcoming arranged marriage to someone she didn’t love, and she and I had ridden out to the ruins of a temple, where. .”

  “. . And so you see, we are not after treasure, but a gray arrow instead.”

  “And you say the Fates sent you to find such?”

  “Oui. Without it we will fail.”

  “Hmm. .,” rumbled the Sphinx. “What you seek is the arrow that slew Achilles, for not even the gods could turn that one aside.”

  “Know you where this arrow lies?” asked Roel. “I would go through Hell itself to save my sister and brothers.”

  The Abulhol rumbled a laugh and said, “Just so, my boy, just so, for to reach it, you will have to go through the realm of Lord Hades.”

  “Erebus? We must go through Erebus?”

  “You know of Erebus?” asked the Sphinx, somewhat surprised.

  “I have read a few of the Greek legends of old,” replied Roel.

  “As have I,” said Celeste, “yet I knew not that Erebus is of Faery.”

  “It is not,” said the Abulhol. He gestured about and added, “Just as these sands are not of Faery.” Celeste’s eyes widened in amaze. “Not of Faery? If we are not in Faery, just where are we?” The Sphinx smiled and said, “Ever since you crossed out from Faery and into these sands, you have been in a remote area of a realm called Aegypt.” 278 / DENNIS L. MCKIERNAN

  Roel shrugged and said, “Regardless as to whether we are in Faery or no, where lies this gray arrow?”

  “It is held in the hands of an idol in a temple on the central square of the City of the Dead.”

  “And where might we find this City of the Dead?”

  “Beyond the black doorway in the Hall of Heroes in the Elysian Fields.”

  Celeste frowned as if trying to capture an elusive thought. Of a sudden her eyes widened in revelation.

  “That’s what they mean. Roel, our map: Spx: Sphinx. El Fd: Elysian Fields. Ct Dd: City of the Dead.” But then her face fell and she said, “Oh, my love, I thought all we needed to do was follow our chart duskwise, but if we are to go to the underworld of Erebus, I know not what to do.”

  The Sphinx smiled and, with a grating of stone, slowly shook its head. “Quite right, Princess; you will not reach the City of the Dead by riding duskwise.” Roel said, “My Lord Sphinx, you are the guardian of this shrine, one in which I witnessed in a dream a ship that came to bear a loved one away to the afterlife in the underworld. Can you help us find that ship? If not, then our mission will fail, for we need the gray arrow, and time grows perilously short.”

  Solemnly the Abulhol nodded. “Indeed, for there is not but this day and four more ere the night of the dark of the moon. Yet it is a terrible thing you ask, for the living have seldom ridden the ferry to the underworld. Still, where you must go is not to Duat-the domain of Osiris-but to that of Hades instead, to his netherworld; hence you will not ride that ferry, but another one altogether.”

  “Nevertheless, Lord Sphinx, can you aid us?” Slowly the Abulhol nodded, stone grating on stone. “I can start you on your way, yet I am bound much as are the Three Sisters: you must answer a riddle of mine ere I can give aid. And if you fail, I must slay you.” Celeste groaned, but Roel said, “Speak your conundrum, then.” ONCE UPON A SPRING MORN / 279

  But Celeste held up a hand and said, “My Lord Sphinx, in all honor, I find it only fair to warn you, I know the answer to your most famous riddle.”

  “The one Oedipus solved?”

  “Oui.”

  “Ah, that is not mine but the riddle of one of my sisters, she of the eagle’s wings and lion’s body and a beautiful woman’s face. Nay, I will not ask her riddle, but another one instead.”

  Celeste sighed and signed for the Abulhol to proceed.

  And from the surrounding air there sounded the song of the plucked strings of a lyre, and the Sphinx intoned:

  “I go on no legs in the morning, And my no legs are my last.

  I go on two legs in the noontide, I have just had a repast.

  Four legs I dine in the dark nighttide, Now you must name me at last.”

  Once again the great deadly claws of the Abulhol came sliding forth.

  Celeste glanced at Roel, and his face was filled with distress. He turned up his hands, and she despaired: Roel has no answer, and neither do I. Think, Celeste, think! No legs? What has no legs? And how can no legs become two legs and then four legs? This Sphinx, this Abulhol, this creature of the desert, has posed an unsolvab-

  She looked up and smiled and said, “My Lord Sphinx, a being of the desert you are, and so creatures of the desert are perhaps the answer.”

  The Abulhol looked down at her and said, “And what would they be?”

  Celeste took a deep breath and braced herself and said, “ ’Tis a dying asp in the morning whose corpse is eaten by an ibis at noon which in turn is eaten by a jackal at night; hence no legs in the morning is taken in by two legs at noon, and two legs with no legs inside is taken in by four legs in the dark nighttide.” The Sphinx nodded and said, “Very good, Princess,” and it sheathed its claws.

  Tears of relief sprang into Celeste’s eyes.

  Roel said, “Lady Doom was right: you are quite good at riddles. But how did you. .?”

  “Oh, love, the answer is in the second line of the riddle.”

  Roel frowned. “‘And my no legs are my last’? But how can that-? Ah, I see: when something is on its last legs, it is dying. And a no-legs thing on its so-called ‘last legs’ is a dying snake, an asp in this case, and it becomes carrion.”

  “Oui, and what eats carrion? An ibis. You said so yourself back at the stele. And I guessed the four legs was a jackal, for one of those was on the stele as well.” Roel embraced Celeste and kissed her. “Oh, my love, if we succeed in saving my sister and brothers, it will be because of you-your wit, your courage, your prowess with a bow. I could not ask for a better companion.” Celeste took Roel’s face in her hands, and she kissed him deeply, only to be interrupted by a grinding “Harrumph!” She turned and looked up at the Sphinx, and it was smiling.

  “If you two are finished with this unseemly display of affection. .”

  “We are, Lord Sphinx,” said Celeste.

  “Then I shall start you on your journey to the land of the dead. Yet heed, your path will be quite difficult, for, as Lady Doom said, creatures and heroes and the dead will test you along the way. Well, I am a creature, and I did put you to trial, but there are more ordeals to come.

  And recall, as Lady Lot said of the tests you will face along the way, you must win them all, just as you won the one with me.”

  “Yes, Lord Abulhol, well do we understand,” said Roel.

  “Then I will lead you to the gateway to the land of the dead, but hee
d me, take nothing you see in the tomb of Meketaten; else I will hunt you down and slay you outright.”

  “You have my pledge as a knight,” said Roel.

  “And mine as the Princess of the Springwood,” said Celeste.

  The great Sphinx nodded his acceptance, and said,

  “Then follow me,” and he stood, and sand cascaded from his flanks and came roaring down in a great pour.

  The horses snorted and reared, and it was all Celeste and Roel could do to maintain control.

  Now looming above them, the massive creature strode forward, its ponderous steps thudding, seeming to judder the very world with each thundering footfall.

  “His tail!” cried Celeste, and she sprang into her saddle as Roel leapt into his, and they turned the horses and galloped out from under the belly of the monstrous Sphinx just as his massive stone tail dragged through the place where they had been. And the Abulhol laughed, his gaiety sounding as would an avalanche of tumbling boulders.

  Toward the city he walked, and each step shivered the ground, and the sloping sand against the ramparts shuddered and ran down. Celeste and Roel trailed at a safe distance, and as the Sphinx came to the wall, he lifted his tail and delicately stepped within the bounds of the shrine.

  And now like a great cat he padded, gently easing his feet down. Toward an enormous cube of stone in the city center he softly stepped, carefully passing by steles and pylons and buildings and columnar rows and ruins, and when he reached the huge block he stopped and looked ’round at Celeste and Roel following.

  “I think you will need to dismount and lead your horses,” said the Sphinx, “for the entrance is quite low.

  And light a lantern; you will need it to find the way.” And so the princess and her knight dismounted, and 282 / DENNIS L. MCKIERNAN

  Celeste took his reins while Roel fetched a lantern from the packs and set it aglow.

  When all was ready, “Keep in mind your pledge concerning Meketaten’s tomb,” rumbled the Abulhol.

  “We will, my lord,” said Celeste.

  “And remember, you must pass all tests; else you will not find the arrow of gray.”

  “We understand, Lord Sphinx,” said Roel, “and we stand prepared.”

  The Abulhol sounded a chuckle like sliding rocks and said, “I doubt that.” And then the creature turned to the great slab and whispered an ancient word, and a dark opening appeared; then the Sphinx stepped aside. “Fare well, and I pray the light of Re shines down upon you both.”

  Celeste curtseyed and Roel bowed, and Celeste said,

  “And may Mithras find favor in you, Lord Abulhol.” The Sphinx roared in laughter and said, “Do you not know, Princess, that Mithras and Re are one and the same? Now go; you are keeping me from my sleep.”

  “As you wish, my lord,” said Celeste, and then she turned and followed Roel into the shadows beyond.

  35

  Thoth

  Into the mausoleum they went, and when the last horse clattered onto the marble floor, from behind there came a thunderclap that reverberated throughout the looming shadows. Celeste turned ’round, and by the light of the lantern Roel carried, she could no longer see the opening they had entered; only solid stone met her gaze. .

  . . There was no way back out.

  Tall columns loomed up into darkness above, and from left and right aureate glints came winging to the eye from gilded chests and rich fabrics and golden goblets and other such treasures. Sparks of sapphire and scarlet and emerald and sunshine glittered forth from gems and jewels and jades. Silver chalices there were, filled with crystals of quartz and amethyst and chrysoberyl.

  “Oh, my, what wealth,” breathed Celeste.

  “But look beyond, my love,” said Roel.

  And deeper in the shadows there stood linen-wrapped forms, shields on their arms, spears in their hands.

  “Guardians?” asked Celeste.

  “Oui.”

  “Did they murder men simply to have an honor guard for Meketaten?”

  “It would seem so,” said Roel.

  “Oh, how utterly cruel.”

  “Mayhap not cruel, cherie. Instead I deem it a useless waste. Still, I think they might have gone willingly, for I ween they believed it assured them a place of honor in the afterlife.”

  Celeste growled, but said nought.

  Roel held his lantern on high, and it shone upon a sarcophagus, and on the lid a carved black jackal with golden eyes and golden ears and a golden collar reclined on its stomach, its head held up, as if alert, as if it, too, was a guardian.

  “It is my sarcophage, ” said Celeste, “or so it was in my dream.”

  “I remember,” said Roel.

  “Oh, Roel, look.”

  Standing in ranks beyond the sarcophagus were the mummified remains of perhaps a hundred people.

  “The servants,” gritted Roel. “How sad their lives were taken for this.”

  Celeste looked away. “Perhaps they, too, are assured of a place in the afterlife.”

  “Afterlife or no, Celeste, still it was needless sacrifice.” They paced onward, their boots ringing on marble, the horses’ hooves clattering with echoes resounding all

  ’round. “What I am wondering,” said Roel, “is how do we get to the underworld?”

  “Surely the Sphinx did not betray us and sentence us to a lingering death.”

  Roel did not reply, and on they trod.

  “Look, cherie, ahead, a dark wall of some sort.” Up three steps and on a broad dais stood two marble statues: one carved to look like a man with the head of a falcon, the other a man with a jackal’s head. An ebon darkness shimmered between.

  “Mayhap it is a crossing,” said Celeste.

  “You mean like a twilight wall?”

  “Oui.”

  Roel sighed and said, “Then I think we need go di shy;

  rectly through, for it seems there is no other way out.”

  “You propose we use no rope?”

  “Oui.”

  Celeste grinned. “Then let us have at it.” Up the steps they trod, the horses clattering after, but the moment their feet touched the dais, a man with the head of an ibis emerged from the black wall, and he held his hand out as if to halt them.

  Roel paused, his grip on the hilt of Coeur d’Acier.

  But then he released his hold and bowed and said, “My lord.”

  Celeste curtseyed.

  “I am Thoth, Lord of Wisdom, and I am here to test your worthiness to enter the realm of Lord Osiris.

  Hence-” Of a sudden he started in surprise. “By the thrice-named gods, you are of the living! You cannot enter Duat.”

  “We do not wish to enter Duat, My Lord Thoth,” said Roel, “but the domain of Lord Hades instead.”

  “Hades?”

  “Oui.”

  “Who sent you this way to reach that netherworld?”

  “Lord Abulhol, My Lord Thoth.”

  “Ever the meddler,” growled Thoth. The guardian god of the way to Duat sighed and said, “Even so, he must have had a good reason. What is it you hope to find there?”

  “We seek the Hall of Heroes in the Elysian Fields, for within that hall is a black portal leading to the City of the Dead, and within that city is a gray arrow, and that is what we seek.”

  “And what do you hope to do with that arrow?”

  “My lord, we do not know. Yet without it our quest will fail, or so said Lady Doom.”

  “Urd?”

  “Oui.”

  “Then you must use this gate. Nevertheless, I cannot let you pass unless I find you worthy. And to do so and since you are yet living, I will examine but two of the seven parts of your souls: your Akhu-that part of your spirit containing your intellect and will and intentions. I will also examine your Ab-your heart-which holds the source of good and evil within a person, for moral awareness resides therein as well as the center of thought.”

  Roel cocked an eyebrow, and Thoth said, “I see you are skeptical.”


  “Lord Thoth, I believe my moral awareness and center of thought does not reside in my breast.”

  “Indeed it does not,” said Thoth. “But the closest I can come to translating the word ‘Ab’ into your tongue is to name it your heart.”

  At Roel’s side Celeste was nodding in agreement, and Thoth looked at her, and though his mouth was that of an inflexible ibis beak, somehow he conveyed a smile through his eyes.

  “Then judge away, my lord,” said Roel.

  Thoth held out his hands wide with palms upraised and said, “I call upon the goddess Ma’at to aid me.” A golden glow suffused throughout Thoth’s form, and then with his keen ibis eyes he stared at Celeste. Long moments he studied her, and then he turned to Roel.

  “Oh, my son, there are many dark deeds in your past, yet they are exemplary endeavors of honorable warriorkind, and your Akhu and Ab remain unstained.” Thoth turned and faced the dark gateway and called out, “By my wisdom and the judgment of Ma’at, I declare these beings worthy to pass through the gate to Erebus, for that is the realm of Lord Hades.” In that moment the golden glow vanished from Thoth’s form. He turned to Celeste and Roel and said,

  “These things I do advise: each of you place a small coin in your mouth, for you will need it. Do not drink the waters of the rivers in Erebus, for one bestows the rancor of hate, another the oblivion of forgetfulness, still another the torment of sadness, and yet another the misery of lamentation, and one is a river of fire. Too, do not visit the Palace of Hades, for he will summarily eject you.”

  “Thank you, My Lord Thoth,” said Roel.

  Thoth waved a negligent hand and said, “Now go, for that netherworld awaits you,” and then he vanished.

  Celeste rummaged through a pouch at her belt, and she withdrew two small copper coins. She handed one to Roel and placed the other in her mouth. Roel followed suit, and then he nodded to her, and she nodded back, and together and leading their horses, they stepped through the wall of black.

  36

  Erebus