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

for the leading on’t, he will not have it, he. Corsus must have it, or Corinius. Stay, let me read it out,” and standing near one of the lights she took a parchment from her bosom. “Pooh! ’tis too fond; I will not shame my lord to read it, even to thee.”

“Well,” said Gro, “were I the King, Corund should be my general to put down Demonland. Corsus he may send, for he hath done great work in his day, but in mine own judgement I like him not for such an errand. Corinius he hath not yet forgiven for his fault at the banquet a year ago.”

“Corinius!” said Prezmyra. “So his butchery of mine own dear land goeth not only without reward, but hath not so much as bought him back to favour, thou thinkest?”

“I think not,” said Lord Gro. “Besides, he is mad wroth to have plucked that prickly fruit but for another’s eating. He bare himself so presumptuous-ill in the hall tonight, gleeking and galling at Laxus, slapping of his sword, and with so many more shameless braves and wanton fashions, and worst of all his most openly seeking to toy with Sriva, i’ this first month of her betrothal unto Laxus, it will be a wonder if blood be not spilt betwixt them ere the night be done. Methinks he is not i’ the mood to take the field again without some sure reward; and methinks the King, guessing his mind, would not offer him a new enterprise and so give him the glory of refusing it.”

They stood near the arched gateway that opened on the terrace from the inner court. Music still sounded from the great banquet hall of Gorice XI. Under the archway and in the shadows of the huge buttresses of the walls it was as though the elements of gloom, expelled from the bright circles round the flamboys, huddled with sister glooms to make a double darkness.

“Well, my lord,” said Prezmyra, “doth thy wisdom bless my resolve?”

“Whate’er it be, yes, because it is thine, O Queen.”

“Whate’er it be!” she cried. “Dost hang in doubt on’t? What else, but seek audience with the King as my first care in the morning. Have I not my lord’s bidding so far?”

“And if thy zeal outrun his bidding in one particular?” said Gro.

“Why, just!” said she. “And if I bring thee not word ere tomorrow’s noon that order is given for Demonland, and my Lord Corund named his general for that sailing, ay, and letters sealed for his straight recall from Orpish⁠—”

“Hist!” said Gro. “Steps i’ the court.”

They turned towards the archway, Prezmyra singing under her breath:

“Nor he that still his Mistresse payes,
For she is thrall’d therefore;
Nor he that payes not, for he sayes
Within, shee’s worth no more.
Is there then no kinde of men
Whom I may freely prove?
I will vent that humour then
In mine own selfe love.”

Corinius met them in the gateway, coming from the banquet house. He halted full in their path to peer closely through the darkness at Prezmyra, so that she felt the heat of his breath, heavy with wine. It was too dark to know faces but he knew her by her stature and bearing.

“Cry thee mercy, madam,” he said. “Methought an instant ’twas⁠—but no matter. Your best of rest.”

So saying he made way for her with a deep obeisance, jostling roughly against Gro with the same motion. Gro, little minded for a quarrel, gave him the wall, and followed Prezmyra into the inner court.

The Lord Corinius sat him down on the nearest of the benches, leaned his stalwart back luxuriously upon the cushions and there rested, thripping his fingers and singing to himself:

“What an Ass is he
Waits a woman’s leisure
For a minute’s pleasure,
And perhaps may be
Gull’d at last, and lose her;
What an ass is he?

What need I to care
For a woman’s favour?
If another have her,
Why should I despair?
When for gold and labour
I can have my share.

If I chance to see
One that’s brown, I love her,
Till I see another
Browner is than she;
For I am a lover
Of my liberty.”

A rustle behind him on his left made him turn his head. A figure stole out of the deep shadow of the buttress nearest the archway. He leapt up and was first in the gate, blocking it with open arms. “Ah,” he cried, “so titmice roost i’ the shade, ha? What ransom shall I have of thee for making me keep empty tryst last night? Ay, and wast creeping hence to make me a fool once more the nightlong and I had not caught thee.”

The lady laughed. “Last night my father kept me by him; and tonight, my lord, wouldst thou not have been fitly served for thy shameless ditty? Is that a sweet serenade for ladies’ ears? Sing it again, to thy liberty, and show thyself an ass.”

“Thou art very bold to provoke me, madam, with not even a star to be thy witness if I quite thee for’t. These flamboys are old roisterers, grown gray in scenes of riot. They shall not blab.”

“Nay, if thou speakest in wine I’m gone, my lord;” and as he took a step towards her, “and I return not, here or otherwise, but fling thee off forever,” she said. “I will not be entreated like a serving-maid. I have borne too long with thy forced soldier fashions.”

Corinius caught his arms about her, lifting her against his broad chest so that her toes scarce kept footing on the ground. “O Sriva,” he said thickly, bending his face to hers, “dost think to light so great a fire, and after walk through it and not be scorched thereat?”

Her arms were close pinioned at her sides in that strong embrace. She seemed to swoon, as a lily swooning in the flaming noonday. Corinius bent down his face and kissed her fiercely, saying, “By all the sweets that ever darkness tasted, thou art mine tonight.”

“Tomorrow,” she said, as if stifled.

But