by E R Eddison
For a minute none spoke, man watching man. Then Gilmanes, making a cast about the table with his long pale eyes and running his tongue along his thin and bloodless lips, said, ‘I question but one thing, my lords. His highness said "occasion arising". But is not occasion instant upon us? seeing the greatness of our adversary and his infinite dominion in Rerek, that already hath gone far to work us all from princes into pages. Thinks, too, that he knoweth, I ween, some hollow hearts in Rerek; and is himself one that keepeth his displeasure in close, then, like God's severe judgement, dallieth not where to strike he doth purpose.'
The air in that room seemed suddenly to have grown closer. Again man eyed man. Then, 'God send him here,' said Arquez with a thick gluttonish laugh, 'and give me the unbowelling of him.'
The Vicar looked at Arquez then sidelong at Gilmanes, through half-closed lids. 'Argument: ergo, dally not we, but strike first?'
'Ay,' said Clavius, 'and strike him into the centre.'
'Who speaks against it?' said the Vicar. 'In so extreme jeopardous a work as you now propound to me, needs must each stand by all or else all go down in solido’
'Better that,' said Gilmanes, than be still kept under like beasts and slaves.'
'Who speaks against it?'
But in a confusion of high and clamorous words they cried out saying, 'Strike, for Parry and Rerek!' 'Death to Mezentius!' Throw the crooked tyrant to the Devil!' 'Chop him into steaks!’
'You, Stathmar?' said the Vicar, seeing him sit silent amid this rant
' Tis but that I will not,' answered he, 'be one of those who rashly before a great man enter into talk unrequired. To my thinking, it is better the sword be sheathed than unsheathed. Howsomever,—'
The Vicar strokes his heard thrice. Huge as a lion he seemed, high seated in that great chair; and red as a fox; and untrusty to handle as a quick eel by the tail; and a king in potentia, wanting but the regal crown and sceptre; and wicked out and out. In the nick of time, ere he should speak again, the door flew open in Gabriel's face, and before them in his majesty stood the King.
All leapt to their feet, and, save the Vicar's and Gilmanes's, every man's hand to his sword-hilt. It was as if the instant moment itself leapt and hung tip-toed on an instability of movelessness, while men's minds, violently unseated, waited on direction. Only the Lord Horius Parry, as in lightning-swift apprehension of the posture of affairs, and of the choices, deeply ravelled of good and bad, of known and unknown, not to be eluded nor long put off, fateful of life and death, which it imported, seemed to face it with a mind intact and unremoved. Like the snapping of a string wound to extreme tension, Gabriel heard the silence break with the King's 'Good evening, cousin': heard in the deep cadence of the King's voice, careless and secure, an almost imperceptible over-tone of irony that thrilled less upon the ear than upon the marrow that runs within the neck-bones: saw the Vicar's obeisance: saw, for one breath, their mingling of eyes together, his and the King's, as if each would craftily undergrope the other's policies.
All saluted the King now, with an unhearty greeting but yet with due humble show of allegiance, drinking to him peace, health, joy, and victory upon his enemies.
The Vicar made place for him at the table's head, seating himself at the King's right, betwixt the King and Count Olpman. 'Bare a fortnight since I tasted your noble entertainment, cousin, in Laimak,' said the King, raising to his lips the goblet from which the Vicar had but just drunk his health, and pledging them all in turn. 'And now, benighted in these woods, what luckier find than this hospitable room? or what luckier choice of loving friends and subjects to be met withal?' His eye seemed merry, as of a man set among them of his household, nothing earthly mistrusting.
' 'Lack,' said the Vicar, 'this should seem to your serene highness a strange dog-hole, I'd a thought. And, truth to say, we be assembled here 'pon a strange business.'
Wise men started, and light men laughed in themselves, at these words. But the King said, unconcerned, ‘I had supposed yours was, as ours, a hunting party.'
'It might be named so. Your serenity has had good sport, I hope?'
'Tracked the big bear to his hole,' replied the King: 'but as yet not killed.'
The Vicar met his eye without quinching. 'As for our hunting,' he said, 'your serene highness will laugh at us. You have heard, may be, stories of this same farmstead: that there was of old a man dwelt alone in this place, a bonder, rich in goods and in cattle, alone save for's thralls. And these thralls, uncontented, it seems, with his hard and evil usage of 'em, one night, 'pon agreement had together, took and murdered him.' Glancing round the table while he talked, he saw them sit like dumb beasts, as if afeared to meet some eye upon them were they to look up, his or another's. Only the King, idly fingering his wine-goblet, gave him look for look: idly, as one who rolls on his tongue the wine of some secret jest, the delightfuller to him because hid from all men else. The Vicar proceeded: 'Since when, to this day, none durst live in the place for dread of the dead sprite which, as if said, rideth the roof a-nights, breaketh the necks of man and beast, and so forth. And is neglected so, some three generations and all fallen to ruin. Now the Prince here and my Lord Olpman, they laid me a wager, a thousand ducats, that these tales were sooth and that something bad resorteth indeed to the house; but I tell 'em is but old wives' foolishness and fiddle-faddle. Which to determine, we mean to sit out the night here, drinking and discoursing, with these four lords besides to witness whether aught beyond ordinary shall befall us.'
The King smiled. ‘I’d a sworn there were things in this house worth the finding out Coming but now, supposing it empty, and finding, 'pon opening of the door, this jolly company within, put me in mind of the old tale of the shepherdman's coming by night beside Holyfell in Iceland. He saw that the fell was opened on the north side, and in the fell he saw mighty fires and heard huge clamour there and the clank of drinldng-horns; and he heard that there was welcomed Thorstein Codbiter and his crew. He and his crew. You remember?'
That had, that same night, as was known later, been drowned in the fishing?'
‘Yes: dead men,' said the King: 'feasting that night in Holyfell. There's the difference: that here, at present, are all yet alive.'
Furtively, as though some strange unwonted horror began to invade them, men's eyes sought the Vicar's, Gabriel Flores, watching there apart, bethought him how most things have two handles. How if one of these comates of mischief had blabbed out all to the King beforehand? How if his master, sitting so thoughtful, had the like inkling? Gabriel waited for his eye. But the Vicar, smiling to himself, played softly with the great seal-ring on his left thumb and gave eye to no man. 'Your highness sees some danger, then?'
‘A certain danger,' replied the King lightly, yet not a man there sat at ease under the look he now swept round the table, 'in meddling with such business as brought you here to-night'
The Vicar still smiling, nodded his head: still intent upon his ring. Men watched him as if they knew, how smooth soever his looks were, there was a devil in his bosom.
'In some serene highness' school well brought up,' said Gilmanes, after a pause, and his teeth flashed, 'we are inured to dangers.'
'And yet,' said the King, 'there is measure in all things. Courage of the wise: courage of the fool.'
"The second we know,' said the Vicar. 'What is the first?'
'Is it not a native part of wisdom? A wise King, for instance, that will trust his person unguarded amongst his loyal loving subjects.'
Men began to shift in their seats a little, as unballassed ships are rocked and tossed. Clavius, being high with wine, shouted out, 'Yes: and a hundred swords ready behind the door to secure him.'
That,' replied the King, ‘were an unwise mistrust of them that were loyal. And yet for a jest: instance the extreme of improbability: say you were of that rank sort, here met to devise my ruin. Then I, having some wisdom, and knowing as a King should know, might come indeed, as I am come, but with a force of men without prepared
to seize upon you; 'stead of (as 'tis) secure in my friends, and not so much as a man-at-arms to guard me.'
Olpman whispered privately to the Vicar, 'This be set forth to blear our eyes. He hath men at call. Our only safety, strike and strike suddenly.'
'Quiet, fool, and wait my word,' said the Vicar. He paused a moment, smiling, playing with his ring: then made sign to Gabriel to fill round the wine again. A look of intelligence passed between him and Gabriel, slight and fleeting as, at slack-water, is the beginning of the turning, this way and no longer that, of the great tide unresistable of the sea. Gabriel, when he had filled round, went out by the door. The Vicar found means to say to Olpman under cover of the general talk, 'I had prepared this beforehand. We will a little play for time. When you shall hear me say to Gabriel, "Why not the wine of Armash?" that is a sign to him to admit those that shall dispatch the King's business for him right suddenly. Pass round the word. This too: that no man, on his life, stir afore my bidding.'
While Olpman was cautiously in this sense instructing Arquez, the Vicar said covertly to the King, 1 entreat your highness, let's manage your faces so as none shall doubt we speak on aught but trivial matters. And if I speak improbably, yet believe it,—'
‘No more,' said the King, with a like secrecy and a like outward carelessness. 'I’ll tell it you myself. You have stumbled to-night upon a wasps'-nest. But I am come on purpose to take it. All present, you alone excepted, play underboard against my royal estate and person. I have proof: I have letters. Your charge it shall be that not a man of them escape.'
'A squadron of horse, my own, distant from the farm some half mile,' said the Vicar. 'And these, I well guess, have twice as many against us. What profit in men-at-arms, though, when the head is off?'
The King laughed. 'I am glad you are not a fool, cousin.'
The Vicar, playing as before with the great ring on his thumb, said, 'Go, I think there's not one here, I alone excepted, believes your serene highness is in truth come alone here and unattended.'
'But you, cousin, are not a fool,' said the King.
1 know now. I have put my life in your highness's hand.
'How so?'
'Sitting thus at your right hand. Your hand next my heart. And your dagger, I see, ready to your hand.'
'We are neither of us slow of understanding,' said the King. 'And I think either would be sorry to lose the other.'
They had means to speak some word or two more thus privately. Then came Gabriel Flores in again with a flesh flagon of wine. 'I shall in a moment,' said the Vicar, 'give your serene highness proof of my love and fidelity plain and perfect.' Gabriel filled first to the King, then to the Vicar, who whispered him some instruction in his ear. 'And you shall see too I can play at shuttlecock with two hands,' said the Vicar, under his breath to the King. 'Which oft cometh well.'
As Gabriel passed now behind Count Olpman's chair, his eyes met his master's, and he paused. Gilmanes, Clavius, and Stathmar were in talk, heads together, at the far end of the table. Olpman, biting his lip, had secretly, under cover of the table-top, bared his sword. The Vicar rapped out suddenly to Gabriel, 'Why not the wine of Armash?' and, the word scarce out of his mouth, hurled his heavy goblet in Gilmanes's face, throwing at the same time with his other hand his dagger, which pinned Clavius's right hand (put up to save him) to his cheek. Gabriel, bringing down the wine-flagon with all his might upon the bald pate of Olpman from behind, dashed out his brains. The King was sprung to his feet, sword drawn: the Vicar beside him. Amid this broilery and fury, leaping shadows on wall and ceiling, knives thrown, chairs and benches overset, the King crossed blades with Stathmar: both notable swordsmen. Arquez threw a pie-dish at the King: grazed his cheekbone: then a chair, but it fell short, sweeping (save one) every candle from the table. At fifth or sixth pass now in that uncertain light, Stathmar fell, run through the heart. Arquez, seeing this: seeing Olpman lie sprawled over the board, his head in a pool of blood: seeing Gilmanes stretched senseless, and Clavius wounded and in a mammering whether to fly or fight: threw another chair, that tripped up the Vicar rushing bloodily upon him: then yet another at the King. It missed. Arquez jumped for the window. The King caught the chair in mid-air, hurled it again, took him on the backside, well nigh broke his tail-bone. Down from the window he dropped, and Gabriel, with skillfully aimed kicks and with strampling on his face and belly, soon stopped his noise.
Clavius, casting himself prostrate now under the King's feet, cried out that, might but his life be spared, he would declare all: 'I was neither author nor actor: only persuaded and drawn in by Olpman and Gilmanes and by—’ His speech dried up in his throat as, gazing wildly round, he saw how the Vicar beheld him with a look as fell, as venomous, and as cruel as is in the face of the death-adder.
'Tie them all up,' said the King: these three that be left alive.' Gabriel tied them hand and foot with rope from the pack-saddles: set them on a bench against the wall: gathered some candles from the floor to make a better light. Gilmanes and Arquez were by now come to themselves again. Little content they seemed with their lot; seeing moreover how the King drew a sheaf of papers from his bosom. But never a word they uttered.
The King's countenance seemed as a pouring down of black darkness from the sky, where all else becomes un—discernable, even to the stars whose operations make the fortunes and the destinies of men. 'Some things,' he said, 'be provable, some unprovable. I know not how many principal members there be and how many unprincipal. I say (and that not without sufficient evidence of your own letters) that you came hither confederated to work an utter mischief against my estate, that am your King and Lord. What reason had you for such ingratitudes and undeserved unkindness?—You, Gilmanes? that four years ago I spared your life at the suit of your grey beard, and ever since have too patiently borne with your harsh government and cruelties used against my liege-men? But your ungracious and unheard wickedness shall come down upon your own pate.—You, Arquez? in hope that, if the realm were but turmoiled and shaken, your oppressing of your neighbours might have easy scope? It will come to fifty thousand ducats that you have robbed of my good subjects; but now is your audit near.—You, Qavius? because time and again my hand has opened bounty to you, but, for all that, you have remained our well proved evil wilier, and, as we see, a fool besides and a dastard.
'I bid you, therefore,' he said to the Vicar, 'let me see the three heads off, of Clavius, Arquez, and Gilmanes, before either any man else go from this room or come into it. Olpman's too: should have been. Second bite, after I'd pardoned him his share in Valero's rebellion: it was too much. But the rat your secretary saved us that trouble. Stathmar I'd have spared. A good man, but unfit, after this, to be in the land, considering too he held the government and sway of so high a place. Him I'd have banished. But Fate, you see, hath banished him further than I could.'
For a minute there was dead silence. Then the Vicar motioned to Gabriel. 'Work for you to try your hand on. You have the King's warrant. Creep into them.' Gabriel took up his sword and stepped forward, trying the edge with his thumb. The Vicar said again, 'Creep into them, basset.'
But Clayius began to scream out against the Vicar: ‘What of yonder cruel devil, that bred all our miseries? setter on of all this, the arch-rebel himself?—’
'Hold!' said the Vicar like a thunder-crack, and Gabriel lowered his blade, swung hastily for the blow.
'—Spoke to us, King,' shouted Clavius, 'ere you came in: a seditious discourse farsed full of unfitting words, bordering on such strange designs that had made me haste forth, but that in the nick of time your serene highness fortunately coming in—'
The Vicar's face was scarlet: his regard inscrutable as stone. But in the King's eyes there but flickered an ironic smile. He snapped his fingers: 'Why are their heads not dealt with?' and Gabriel speedily dealt with them, having off the head first of Clavius, then of Arquez (at two strokes, for the fatness of his neck); last, of Gilmanes.
'Your secretary, I see,' said the Ki
ng, taking the Lord Horius Parry by the arm now and causing him to go with him out into the open air, 'hath some pretty fetches: beyond what commonly we look to a learned clerk to do. Well, a fair riddance,' he said, as they stood now alone under the starry sky, their eyes not yet used to the darkness. 'Such men, alive or dead, lack substantial being: are a kind of nothing. Except Stathmar (whom I slew for indeed he gave me no choice) I'll be sorry for none of them: discard 'em as not worth the holding.
‘But now, as for you, cousin: procurer and speciallest contriver—nay, deny it not—of all this horrible treason.. What have these done to be destroyed if you go free?'
There was a strange stillness came upon the great muscles of the Parry's arm, locked in the strong arm of the King. Out of the masking darkness he answered and said, 'Your serene highness hath not a tittle of evidence there against me.'
‘No. I said, you are not a fool.'
'And besides, it is something, I'd a thought, that I saved your highness's life.'
'And why?' said the King. 'Why did you that?'
They were pacing now, with slow deliberate steps, away from the house. It was as if, for a minute, under the undark summer darkness, blood talked to blood in the unquiet silence of their linked arms. Then the Vicar gave a strange awkardish little laugh. 'This is scarce the moment,' he said, 'to ask your serene highness to swallow gudgeons. I could give you a dozen specious untrue reasons you'd disbelieve. Truth is, with the suddenness and unknownness of your coming, I know not why I did it. If I had but a little backed my hand—'
The King took him by either shoulder, and stood a minute staring down into his face. There was light enough, of starshine and that luminosity which lingers at this time of year in a kind of twilight all night long, to betray a most strange uncustomed look of the Vicar's eyes: almost such a look as himself was used to meet in the eyes of Gabriel Flores. The King began to laugh: the Vicar too. 'Truth is,' said the King, 'thinking of the matter unappassionately, there's something so glues me and you together as neither life nor death shall unglue us. Which you, my most wolvy and most foxy sergeant major general of all the Devil's engineers, are not able to forget when my eye is upon you (according to the old saying, ex visu amor). But when you are too much left to yourself, you are sometimes prone to forget it.'
