The Worm Ouroboros by E. R. Eddison (nonfiction book recommendations TXT) 📕

and rotting vegetation. And those great cedars, emblems of their lord’s estate and pride, lay prostrate now with their roots exposed, a tangle of sere foliage and branches broken, withered and lifeless. Over this deathbed of ruined loveliness the towers of onyx showed ghastly against the sky.

“Is there not a virtue in seven?” said Cargo. “Last week was the sixth time we thought we had gotten the eel by the tail in yon flyblown hills of Mealand and came empty home. When think’st, Laxus, shall’s run ’em to earth indeed?”

“When egg-pies shall grow on apple-trees,” answered Laxus. “Nay, the general setteth greater store by his proclamations concerning the young woman (who likely never heareth of them, and assuredly will not be by them ’ticed home again), and by these toys of revenge, than by sound soldiership. Hark! there goeth this day’s work.”

They turned at a shout from the gates, to behold the northern of those two golden hippogriffs totter and crash down the steeps into the moat, sending up a great smoke from the stones and rubble which poured in its wake.

Lord Laxus’s brow was dark. He laid hand on Heming’s arm, saying, “The times need all sage counsel we can reach unto, O ye sons of Corund, if our Lord the King shall have indeed from this expedition into Demonland the victory at last of all his evil-willers. Remember, that was a great miss to our strength when the Goblin went.”

“Out upon the viper!” said Cargo. “Corinius was right in this, not to warrant him the honesty of such slippery cattle. He had not served above a month or two, but that he ran to the enemy.”

“Corinius,” said Laxus, “is yet but green in his estate. Doth he suppose the rest of his reign shall be but play and the enjoying of a kingdom? Those left-handed strokes of fortune may yet o’erthrow him, the while that he streameth out his youth in wine and venery and manageth his private spite against this lady. Slipper youth must be under-propped with elder counsel, lest all go miss.”

“A most reverend old counsellor art thou!” said Cargo; “of six-and-thirty years of age.”

Said Heming, “We be three. Take command thyself. I and my brother will back thee.”

“I will that thou swallow back those words,” said Laxus, “as though they had never been spoke. Remember Corsus and Gallandus. Besides, albeit he seemeth now rather to be a man straught than one that hath his wits, yet is Corinius in his sober self a valiant and puissant soldier, a politic and provident captain as is not found besides in Demonland, no, nor in Witchland neither, and it were not your noble father; and this one in his youthly age.”

“That is true,” said Heming. “Thou hast justly reproved me.”

Now while they were a-talking, came one from the castle and made obeisance unto Laxus saying, “You are inquired for, O king, so please you to walk into the north chamber.”

Said Laxus, “Is it he that was newly ridden from the east country?”

“So it is, so please you,” with a low leg he made answer.

“Hath he not had audience with King Corinius?”

“He hath sought audience,” said the man, “but was denied. The matter presseth, and he urged me therefore seek unto your lordship.”

As they walked toward the castle Heming said in Laxus’s ear, “Knowest thou not this brave new piece of court ceremony? O’ these days, when he hath ’stroyed an hostage to spite the Lady Mevrian, as today was ’stroyed the horse-headed eagle, he giveth not audience till sundown. For, the deed of vengeance done, a retireth himself to his own chamber and a wench with him, the daintiest and gamesomest he may procure; and so, for two hours or three drowned in the main sea of his own pleasures, he abateth some little deal for a season the pang of love.”

Now when Laxus was come forth from talking with the messenger from the east, he fared without delay to Corinius’s chamber. There, thrusting aside the guards, he flung wide the shining doors, and found the Lord Corinius merrily disposed. He was reclined on a couch deep-cushioned with dark green three-pile velvet. An ivory table inlaid with silver and ebony stood at his elbow bearing a crystal flagon already two parts emptied of the foaming wine, and a fair gold goblet beside it. He wore a long loose sleeveless gown of white silk edged with a gold fringe; this, fallen open at the neck, left naked his chest and one strong arm that in that moment when Laxus entered reached out to grasp the wine cup. Upon his knee he held a damosel of some seventeen years, fair and fresh as a rose, with whom he was plainly on the point to pass from friendly converse to amorous privacy. He looked angrily upon Laxus, who without ceremony spoke and said, “The whole east is in a tumult. The burg is forced which we built astride the Stile. Spitfire hath passed into Breakingdale to victual Galing, and hath overthrown our army that sat in siege thereof.”

Corinius drank a draught and spat. “Phrut!” said he. “Much bruit, little fruit. I would know by what warrant thou troublest me with this tittle-tattle, and I pleasantly disposing myself to mirth and recreation. Could it not wait till supper time?”

Ere Laxus might say more, was a great clatter heard without on the stairs, and in came those sons of Corund.

“Am I a king?” said Corinius, gathering his robe about him, “and shall I be forced? Avoid the chamber.” Then marking them stand silent with disordered looks, “What’s the matter?” he said. “Are ye ta’en with the swindle or the turn-sickness? Or are ye out of your wits?”

Heming answered and said, “Not mad, my lord. Here’s Didarus that held the Stile-burg for us, ridden from the east as fast as his horse might wallop, and gotten here hard o’ the heels of the former messenger with fresh and more certain advertisement, fresher by four