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

before the King, his head firm planted above his mighty throat and neck; his proud luxurious mouth, made for wine-cups and for ladies’ lips, firm set above the square shaven chin and jaw; the thick fair curls of his hair bound with black bryony; the insolence that dwelt in his dark blue eyes tamed for the while in face of that green bale-light that rose and fell in the steadfast gaze of the King.

When they had so stood silent while men might count twenty breaths, the King spake saying: “Corinius, receive the name of the kingdom of Demonland which thy Lord and King give thee, and make homage to me thereof.”

The breath of amazement went about the hall. Corinius kneeled. The King gave him that sword which he held in his hand, bare for the slaughter, saying, “With this sword, O Corinius, shalt thou wear out this blemish and blot that until now rested upon thee in mine eye. Corsus hath proved haggard. He hath made miss in Demonland. His sottish folly hath shut him up in Owlswick and lost me half his force. His jealousy, too maliciously and bloodily bent against my friends ’stead of mine enemies, hath lost me a good captain. The wonderful disorder and distresses of his army must, if thou amend it not, swing all our fortune at one chop from bliss to bale. If this be rightly handled by thee, one great stroke shall change every deal. Go thou, and prove thy demerits.”

The Lord Corinius stood up, holding the sword point-downward in his hand. His face flamed red as an autumn sky when leaden clouds break apart on a sudden westward and the sun looks out between. “My Lord the King,” said he, “give me where I may sit down: I will make where I may lie down. Ere another moon shall wax again to the full I will set forth from Tenemos. If I do not shortly remedy for you our fortunes which this bloody fool hath laboured to ruinate, spit in my face, O King, withhold from me the light of your countenance, and put spells upon me shall destroy and blast me forever.”

XIX Thremnir’s Heugh

Of the Lord Spitfire’s besieging of the witches in his own castle of Owlswick; and how he did battle against Corinius under Thremnir’s Heugh, and the men of Witchland won the day.

Lord Spitfire sat in his pavilion before Owlswick in mickle discontent. A brazier of hot coals made a pleasant warmth within, and lights filled the rich tent with splendour. From without came the noise of rain steadily falling in the dark autumn night, splashing in the puddles, pattering on the silken roof. Zigg sat by Spitfire on the bed, his hawk-like countenance shadowed with an unwonted look of care. His sword stood between his knees point downward on the floor. He tipped it gently with either hand now to the left now to the right, watching with pensive gaze the warm light shift and gleam in the ball of balas ruby that made the pommel of the sword.

“Fell it out so accursedly?” said Spitfire. “All ten, thou saidst, on Rammerick Strands?”

Zigg nodded assent.

“Where was he that he saved them not?” said Spitfire. “O, it was vilely miscarried!”

Zigg answered, “ ’Twas a swift and secret landing in the dark a mile east of the harbour. Thou must not blame him unheard.”

“What more remain to us?” said Spitfire. “Content: I’ll hear him. What ships remain to us, is more to the purpose. Three by Northsands Eres, below Elmerstead: five on Throwater: two by Lychness: two more at Aurwath: six by my direction on Stropardon Firth: seven here on the beach.”

“Besides four at the firth head in Westmark,” said Zigg. “And order is ta’en for more in the Isles.”

“Twenty and nine,” said Spitfire, “and those in the Isles beside. And not one afloat, nor can be ere spring. If Laxus smell them out and take them as lightly as these he burned under Volle’s nose on Rammerick Strands, we do but plough the desert building them.”

He rose to pace the tent. “Thou must raise me new forces for to break into Owlswick. ’Fore heaven!” he said, “this vexes me to the guts, to sit at mine own gate full two months like a beggar, whiles Corsus and those two cubs his sons drink themselves drunk within, and play at cock-shies with my treasures.”

“O’ the wrong side of the wall,” said Zigg, “the master-builder may judge the excellence of his own building.”

Spitfire stood by the brazier, spreading his strong hands above the glow. After a time he spake more soberly. “It is not these few ships burnt in the north should trouble me; and indeed Laxus hath not five hundred men to man his whole fleet withal. But he holdeth the sea, and ever since his putting out into the deep with thirty sail from Lookinghaven I do expect fresh succours out of Witchland. ’Tis that maketh me champ still on the bit till this hold be won again; for then were we free at least to meet their landing. But ’twere most unfit at this time of the year to carry on a siege in low and watery grounds, the enemy’s army being on foot and unengaged. Wherefore, this is my mind, O my friend, that thou go with haste over the Stile and fetch me supply of men. Leave force to ward our ships a-building, wheresoever they be; and a good force in Krothering and thereabout, for I will not be found a false steward of his lady sister’s safety. And in thine own house make sure. But these things being provided, shear up the war-arrow and bring me out of the west fifteen or eighteen hundred men-at-arms. For I do think that by me and thee and such a head of men of Demonland as we shall then command Owlswick gates may be brast open and Corsus plucked out of Owlswick