by E R Eddison
‘Saw ye not this light aforetime?’ he cried, ‘and ’twas the shadow before the sun of our omnipotence. Fate’s hammer is lifted up to strike. Drink with me to our Lord the King that laboureth with destiny.’
All drank deep, and Corinius said, ‘Pass we on the cups that each may drain his neighbour’s. ’Tis an old lucky custom Corund taught me out of Impland. Swift, for the fate of Witchland is poised in the balance.’ Therewith he passed his cup to Zenambria, who quaffed it to the dregs. And all they, passing on their cups, drank deep again; all save Corsus alone. But Corsus’s eyes were big with terror as he looked on the cup passed on to him by Corund’s son.
‘Drink, O Corsus,’ said Corinius; and seeing him still waver, ‘What ails the old doting disard?’ he cried. ‘He stareth on good wine with an eye as ghastly as a mad dog’s beholding water.’
In that instant the unearthly glare went out as a lamp in a gust of wind, and only the flamboys and the funeral candles flickered on the feasters with uncertain radiance. Corinius said again, ‘Drink.’
But Corsus set down the cup untasted, and stayed irresolute. Corinius opened his mouth to speak, and his jaw fell, as of a man that conceiveth suddenly some dread suspicion. But ere he might speak word, a blinding flash went from earth to heaven, and the firm floor of the banquet hall rocked and shook as with an earthquake. All save Corinius fell back into their seats, clutching the table, amazed and dumb. Crash after crash, after the listening ear was well nigh split by the roar, the horror broken out of the bowels of night thundered and ravened in Carcë. Laughter, as of damned souls banqueting in Hell, rode on the tortured air. Wildfire tore the darkness asunder, half blinding them that sat about that table, and Corinius gripped the board with either hand as a last deafening crash shook the walls, and a flame rushed up the night, lighting the whole sky with a livid glare. And in that trisulk flash Corinius beheld through the south-west window the Iron Tower blasted and cleft asunder, and the next instant fallen in an avalanche of red-hot ruin.
‘The keep hath fallen!’ he cried. And, deadly wearied on a sudden, he sank heavily into his seat. The cataclysm was passed by like a wind in the night; but now was heard a sound as of the enemy rushing to the assault. Corinius strove to rise, but his legs were over feeble. His eye lit on Corsus’s untasted cup, that which was passed on to him by Viglus Corund’s son, and he cried, ‘What devil’s work is this? I have a strange numbness in my bones. By heavens, thou shalt drink that cup or die.’
Viglus, his eyes protruding, his hand clutching at his breast, struggled to rise but could not.
Heming half staggered up, fumbling for his sword, then pitched forward on the table with a horrid rattle of the throat.
But Corsus leaped up trembling, his dull eyes aflame with triumphant malice. ‘The King hath thrown and lost,’ he cried, ‘as well I foresaw it. And now have the children of night taken him to themselves. And thou, damned Corinius, and you sons of Corund, are but dead swine before me. Ye have all drunk venom, and ye are dead. Now will I deliver up Carcë to the Demons. And it, and your bodies, with mine electuary rotting in your vitals, shall buy me peace from Demonland.’
‘O horrible! Then I too am poisoned,’ cried the Lady Zenambria, and she fell a-swooning.
‘’Tis pity,’ said Corsus. ‘Blame the passing of the cups for that. I might not speak ere the poison had chained me the limbs of these cursed devils, and made ’em harmless.’
Corinius’s jaw set like a bulldog’s. Painfully gritting his teeth he rose from his seat, his sword naked in his hand. Corsus, that was now passing near him on his way to the door, saw too late that he had reckoned without his host. Corinius, albeit the baneful drug bound his legs as with a cere-cloth, was yet too swift for Corsus, who, fleeing before him to the door, had but time to clutch the heavy curtains ere the sword of Corinius took him in the back. He fell, and lay a-writhing lumpishly, like a toad spitted on a skewer. And the floor of steatite was made slippery with his blood.
‘’Tis well. Through the guts,’ said Corinius. No might he had to draw forth the sword, but staggered as one drunken, and fell to earth, propped against the jambs of the lofty doorway.
Some while he lay there, harkening to the sounds of battle without; for the Iron Tower was fallen athwart the outer wall, making a breach through all lines of defence. And through that breach the Demons stormed the hold of Carcë, that never unfriendly foot had entered by force in all the centuries since it was builded by Gorice I. An ill watch it was for Corinius to lie harkening to that unequal fight, unable to stir a hand, and all they that should have headed the defence dead or dying before his eyes. Yet was his breath lightened and his pain some part eased when his eye rested on the gross body of Corsus twisting in the agony of death upon his sword.
In such wise passed well nigh an hour. The bodily strength of Corinius and his iron heart bare up against the power of the venom long after those others had breathed out their souls in death. But now was the battle done and the victory with them of Demonland, and the lords Juss and Goldry Bluszco and Brandoch Daha with certain of their fighting men came into the banquet hall. Smeared they were with blood and the dust of battle, for not without great blows and the death of many a stout lad had the hold been won. Goldry said as they paused at the threshold, ‘This is the very banquet house of death. How came these by their end?’
Corinius’s brow darkened at the sight of the lords of Demonland, and mightily he strove to raise himself, but sank back groaning. ‘I have gotten an everlasting chill o’ the bones,’ he said. ‘Yon hellish traitor murthered us all by poison; else should some of you have gotten your deaths by me or ever ye won up into Carcë.’
‘Bring him some water,’ said Juss. And he with Brandoch Daha gently lifted Corinius and bare him to his chair where he should be more at ease.
Goldry said, ‘Here is a lady liveth.’ For Sriva, that sitting on her father’s left hand had so escaped a poisoned draught at the passing of the cups, rose from the table where she had cowered in fearful silence, and cast herself in a flood of tears and terrified supplications about Goldry’s knees. Goldry bade guard her to the camp and there bestow her in safe asylum until the morning.
Now was Corinius near his end, but he gathered strength to speak, saying, ‘I do joy that not by your sword were we put down, but by the unequal trumpery of Fortune, whose tool was this Corsus and the King’s devilish pride, that desired to harness Heaven and Hell to his chariot. Fortune’s a right strumpet, to fondle me in the neck and now yerk me one thus i’ the midriff.’
‘Not Fortune, my Lord Corinius, but the Gods,’ said Goldry, ‘whose feet be shod with wool.’
By then was water brought in, and Brandoch Daha would have given him to drink. But Corinius would have none of it, but jerked his head aside and o’erset the cup, and looking fiercely on Lord Brandoch Daha, ‘Vile fellow,’ he said, ‘so thou too art come to insult on Witchland’s grave? Thou’dst strike me now into the centre, and thou wert not more a dancing madam than a soldier.’
‘How?’ said Brandoch Daha. ‘Say a dog bite me in the ham: must I bite him again i’ the same part?’
Corinius’s eyelids closed, and he said weakly, ‘How look thy womanish gew-gaws in Krothering since I towsed ’em?’ And therewith the creeping poison reached his strong heart-strings, and he died.
Now was silence for a space in that banquet hail, and in the silence a step was heard, and the lords of Demonland turned toward the lofty doorway, that yawned as an arched cavern-mouth of darkness; for Corsus had torn down the arras curtains in his death-throes, and they lay heaped athwart the threshold with his dead body across them, Corinius’s sword-hilts jammed against his ribs and the blade standing a foot’s length forth from his breast. And while they gazed, there walked into the shifting light of the flamboys over that threshold the Lady Prezmyra, crowned and arrayed in her rich robes and ornaments of state. Her countenance was bleak as the winter moon flying high amid light clouds on a windy midnight settling towards rain,
and those lords, under the spell of her sad cold beauty, stood without speech.
In a while Juss, speaking as one who needeth to command his voice, and making grave obeisance to her, said, ‘O Queen, we give you peace. Command our service in all things whatsoever. And first in this, which shall be our earliest task ere we sail homeward, to stablish you in your rightful realm of Pixyland. But this hour is overcharged with fate and desperate deeds to suffer counsel. Counsel is for the morning. The night calleth to rest. I pray you give us leave.’
Prezmyra looked upon Juss, and there was eye-bite in her eyes, that glinted with green metallic lustre like those of a she-lion brought to battle.
‘Thou dost offer me Pixyland, my Lord Juss,’ said she, ‘that am Queen of Impland. And this night, thou thinkest, can bring me rest. These that were dear to me have rest indeed: my lord and lover Corund; the Prince my brother; Gro, that was my friend. Deadly enow they found you, whether as friends or foes.’
Juss said, ‘O Queen Prezmyra, the nest falleth with the tree. These things hath Fate brought to pass, and we be but Fate’s whipping-tops bandied what way she will. Against thee we war not, and I swear to thee that all our care is to make thee amends.’
‘O, thine oaths!’ said Prezmyra. ‘What amends canst thou make? Youth I have and some poor beauty. Wilt thou conjure those three dead men alive again that ye have slain? For all thy vaunted art, I think this were too hard a task.’
All they were silent, eyeing her as she walked delicately past the table. She looked with a distant and, to outward seeming, uncomprehending eye on the dead feasters and their empty cups. Empty all, save that one passed on by Viglus, whereof Corsus would not drink; and it stood half drained. Of curious workmanship it was, of pale green glass, its stand formed of three serpents intertwined, the one of gold, another of silver, the third of iron. Fingering it carelessly she raised her glittering eyes once more on the Demons, and said, ‘It was ever the wont of you of Demonland to eat the egg and give away the shell in alms.’ And pointing at the lords of Witchland dead at the feast, she asked, ‘Were these also your victims in this day’s hunting, my lords?’
‘Thou dost us wrong, madam,’ cried Goldry. ‘Never hath Demonland used suchlike arts against her enemies.’
Lord Brandoch Daha looked swiftly at him, and stepped idly forward, saying, ‘I know not what art hath wrought yon goblet, but ’tis strangely like to one I saw in Impland. Yet fairer is this, and of more just proportions.’ But Prezmyra forestalled his out-stretched hand, and quietly drew the cup towards her out of reach. As sword crosses sword, the glance of her green eyes crossed his, and she said, ‘Think not that you have a worse enemy left on earth than me. I it was that sent Corsus and Corinius to trample Demonland in the mire. Had I but some spark of masculine virtue, some soul at least of you should yet be loosed squealing to the shades to attend my dear ones ere I set sail. But I have none. Kill me then, and let me go.’
Juss, whose sword was bare in his hand, smote it home in the scabbard and stepped towards her. But the table was betwixt them, and she drew back to the dais where Corund lay in state. There, like some triumphant goddess, she stood above them, the cup of venom in her hand. ‘Come not beyond the table, my lords,’ she said, ‘or I drain this cup to your damnation.’
Brandoch Daha said, ‘The dice are thrown, O Juss. And the Queen hath won the hazard.’
‘Madam,’ said Juss, ‘I swear to you there shall no force nor restraint be put upon you, but honour only and worship shown you, and friendship if you will. That surely mightest thou take of us for thy brother’s sake.’ Thereat she looked terribly upon him, and he said, ‘Only on this wild night lay not hands upon yourself. For their sake, that even now haply behold us out of the undiscovered barren lands, beyond the dismal lake, do not this.’
Still facing them, the cup still aloft in her right hand, Prezmyra laid her left hand lightly on the brazen plates of Corund’s byrny that cased the mighty muscles of his breast. Her hand touched his beard, and drew back suddenly; but in an instant she laid it gently again on his breast. Somewhat her orient loveliness seemed to soften for a passing minute in the altering light, and she said, ‘I was given to Corund young. This night I will sleep with him, or reign with him, among the mighty nations of the dead.’
Juss moved as one about to speak, but she stayed him with a look, and the lines of her body hardened again and the lioness looked forth anew in her peerless eyes. ‘Hath your greatness,’ she said, ‘so much outgrown your wit, that you think I will abide to be your pensioner, that have been a Princess in Pixyland, a Queen of far-fronted Impland, and wife to the greatest soldier in this hold of Carcë, which till this day hath been the only scourge and terror of the world? O my lords of Demonland, good comfortable fools, speak to me no more, for your speech is folly. Go, doff your hats to the silly hind that runneth on the mountain; pray her gently dwell with you amid your stalled cattle, when you have slain her mate. Shall the blackening frost, when it hath blasted and starved all the sweet garden flowers, say to the rose, Abide with us; and shall she harken to such a wolfish suit?’
So speaking she drank the cup; and turning from those lords of Demonland as a queen turneth her from the unregarded multitude, kneeled gently down by Corund’s bier, her white arms clasped about his head, her face pillowed on his breast.
When Juss spake, his voice was choked with tears. He commanded Bremery that they should take up the bodies of Corsus and Zenambria and those sons of Corund and of Corsus that lay poisoned and dead in that hall and on the morrow give them reverent burial. ‘And for the Lord Corinius I will that ye make a bed of state, that he may lie in this hall tonight, and tomorrow will we lay him in howe before Carcë, as is fitting for so renowned a captain. But great Corund and his lady shall none depart one from the other, but in one grave shall they rest, side by side, for their love sake. Ere we be gone I will rear them such a monument as beseemeth great kings and princes when they die. For royal and lordly was Corund, and a mighty man at arms, and a fighter clean of hand, albeit our bitter enemy. Wondrous it is with what cords of love he bound to him this unparagoned Queen of his. Who hath known her like among women for trueness and highness of heart? And sure none was ever more unfortunate.’
Now went they forth into the outer ward of Carcë. The night bore still some signs of that commotion of the skies that had so lately burst forth and passed away, and some torn palls of thundercloud yet hung athwart the face of heaven. Betwixt them in the swept places of the sky a few stars shivered, and the moon, more than half waxen towards her full, was sinking over Tenemos. Some faint breath of autumn was abroad, and the Demons shuddered a little, fresh from the heavy air of the great banquet hall. The ruins of the Iron Tower smoking to the sky, and the torn and tumbled masses of masonry about it, showed monstrous in the gloom as fragments of old chaos; and from them and from the riven earth beneath steamed up pungent fumes as of brimstone burning. Ever busily, back and forth through those sulphurous vapours, obscene birds of the night flitted a weary round, and bats on leathern wing, fitfully and dimly seen in the uncertain mirk, save when their passage brought them dark against the moon. And from the solitudes of the mournful fen afar voices of lamentation floated on the night: wild wailing cries and sobbing noises and long moans rising and falling and quivering down to silence.
Juss laid his hand on Goldry’s arm, saying, ‘There is nought earthly in these laments, nor be those that thou seest circling in the reek very bats or owls. These be his masterless familiars wailing for their Lord. Many such served him, simple earthy divels and divels of the air and of the water, held by him in thrall by sorcerous and artificial practices, coming and going and doing his will.’
‘These availed him not,’ said Goldry, ‘nor the sword of Witchland against our might and main, that brake it asunder in his hand and slew his mighty men of valour.’
‘Yet true it is,’ said Lord Juss, ‘that none greater hath lived on earth than King Gorice XII. When after these long wars we hel
d him as a stag at bay, he feared not to assay a second time, and this time unaided and alone, what no man else hath so much as once performed and lived. And well he knew that that which was summoned by him out of the deep must spill and blast him utterly if he should slip one whit, as slip he did in former days, but his disciple succoured him. Behold now with what loud striking of thunder, unconquered by any earthly power, he hath his parting: with this Carcë black and smoking in ruin for his monument, these lords of Witchland and hundreds besides of our soldiers and of the Witches for his funeral bake-meats, and spirits weeping in the night for his chief mourners.’
So came they again to the camp. And in due time the moon set and the clouds departed and the quiet stars pursued their eternal way until night’s decline; as if this night had been but as other nights: this night which had beheld the power and glory that was Witchland by such a hammer-stroke of destiny smitten in pieces.
XXXIII
QUEEN SOPHONISBA IN GALING
Of the entertainment given by Lord Juss in Demonland to Queen Sophonisba, fosterling of the Gods, and of that circumstance which, beyond all the wonders fair and lovely to behold shown her in that country, made her most to marvel: wherein is a rare example how in a fortunate world, out of all expectation, in the spring of the year, cometh a new birth.
NOW the returning months brought the season of the year when Queen Sophonisba should come according to her promise to guest with Lord Juss in Galing. And so it was that in the hush of a windless April dawn the Zimiamvian caravel that bare the Queen to Demonland rowed up the firth to Lookinghaven.
All the east was a bower for the golden dawn. Kartadza, sharp-outlined as if cut in bronze, still hid the sun; and in the great shadow of the mountain the haven and the low hills and the groves of holm-oak and strawberry tree slumbered in a deep obscurity of blues and purples, against which the avenues of pink almond blossom and the white marble quays were bodied forth in pale wakening beauty, imaged as in a looking-glass in that tranquillity of the sea. Westward across the firth all the land was aglow with the opening day. Snow lingered still on the higher summits. Cloudless, bathing in the golden light, they stood against the blue: Dina, the Forks of Nantreganon, Pike o’ Shards, and all the peaks of the Thornback range and Neverdale. Morning laughed on their high ridges and kissed the woods that clung about their lower limbs: billowy woods, where rich hues of brown and purple told of every twig on all their myriad branches thick and afire with buds. White mists lay like coverlets on the water-meadows where Tivarandardale opens to the sea. On the shores of Bothrey and Scaramsey, and on the mainland near the great bluff of Thremnir’s Heugh and a little south of Owlswick, clear spaces among the birchwoods showed golden yellow: daffodils abloom in the spring.
