The Worm Ouroboros - E. R. Eddison (best books to read non fiction txt) 📗

in if he may. Who also hath order, being on his way, to rouse Maltraëny to action, from whom no word as yet; and I do fear treachery in ’em, Maltraëny and Ojedia both, they have been so long of coming. King Barsht of Toribia sendeth flat refusal.”

“It is known to you besides, O King,” said Corinius, “that the king of Nevria came in last night, many days past the day appointed, and but half his just complement.”

The King drew back his lips. “I will not dash his spirits by blaming him at this present. Later, I’ll have that king’s head for this.”

“This is the sum,” said Corund. “Nay, then, I had forgot the Red Foliot with’s folk, three hundred perchance, came in this morning.”

Corinius thrust out his tongue and laughed: “One hen-lobster such as he shall scarce afford a course for this banquet.”

“He keepeth faith,” said Corund, “where bigger men turn dastards. ’Tis seen now that these forced leagues be as sure as they were sealed with butter. Your majesty will doubtless give him audience.”

The King was silent awhile, studying his papers. “What strength today in Carcë?” he asked.

Corund answered him, “As near as may be two score hundred foot and fifty score horse: five thousand in all. And, that I weigh most, O King, big broad strong set lads of Witchland nigh every jack of ’em.”

The King said, “ ’Twas not well done, O Corund, to bid thy son delay for Ojedia and Maltraëny. He might else have been in Carcë now with a thousand Pixylanders to swell our strength.”

“I did that I did,” answered Corund, “seeking only your good, O King. A few days’ delay might buy us a thousand spears.”

“Delay,” said the King, “hath favoured mine enemy. This we should have done: at his first landing give him no time but wink, set on him with all our forces, and throw him into the sea.”

“If luck go with us that may yet be,” said Corund.

The King’s nostrils widened. He crouched forward, glaring at Corund and Corinius, his jaw thrust out so that the stiff black beard on it brushed the papers on the table before him. “The Demons,” said he, “landed i’ the night at Ralpa. They come on with great journeys northward. Will be here ere three days be spent.”

Both they grew red as blood. Corund spake: “Who told you these tidings, O King?”

“Care not thou for that,” said the King. “Enough for thee, I know it. Hath it ta’en you napping?”

“No,” answered he. “These ten days past we have been ready, with what strength we might make, to receive ’em, come they from what quarter they will. So it is, though, that while we lack the Pixyland succours Juss hath by some odds the advantage over us, if, as our intelligence saith, six thousand fighting men do follow him, and these forced besides with some that should be ours.”

“Thou wouldst,” said the King, “await these out of Pixyland, with what else Heming may gather, afore we offer them battle?”

Said Corund, “That would I. We must look beyond the next turn of the road, O my Lord the King.”

“That would not I,” said Corinius.

“That is stoutly said, Corinius,” said the King. “Yet remember, thou hadst the greater force on Krothering Side, yet wast overborne.”

“ ’Tis that standeth in my mind, Lord,” said Corund. “For well I know, had I been there I’d a fared no better.”

The Lord Corinius, whose brow had darkened with the naming of his defeat, looked cheerfully now and said, “I pray you but consider, O my Lord the King, that here at home is no room for such a sleight or gin as that whereby in their own country they took me. When Juss and Brandoch Daha and their stinking gaberlunzies do cry huff at us on Witchland soil, ’tis time to give ’em a choke-pear. Which with your leave, Lord, I will promise now to do, other else to lose my life.”

“Give me thy hand,” said Corund. “Of all men else would I a chosen thee for such a day as this, and (were’t today to meet the whole power of Demonland in arms) to stand perdue with thee for this bloody service. But let us hear the King’s commands: which way soe’er he choose, we shall do it right gladly.”

Gorice the King sat silent. One lean hand rested on the iron serpent-head of his chair’s arm, the other, with finger outstretched against the jutting cheekbone, supported his chin. Only in the deep shadow of his eye-sockets a lambent light moved. At length he started, as if the spirit, flown to some unsounded gulfs of time or space, had in that instant returned to its mortal dwelling. He gathered the papers in a heap and tossed them to Corund.

“Too much lieth on it,” said he. “He that hath many peas may put more in the pot. But now the day approacheth when I and Juss must cast up our account together, and one or all shall be brought to death and bane.” He stood up from his chair and looked down on those two, his chosen captains, great men of war raised up by him to be kings over two quarters of the world. They watched him like little birds under the eye of a snake. “The country hereabout,” said the King, “is not good for horsemanship, and the Demons be great horsemen. Carcë is strong, and never can it be forced by assault. Also under mine eye should my men of Witchland acquit themselves to do the greatest deeds. Therefore will we abide them here in Carcë, until young Heming come and his levies out of Pixyland. Then shall ye fall upon them and never make an end till the land be utterly purged of them, and all the lords of Demonland be slain.”

Corinius said, “To hear is to obey, O King. Howsoever, not to dissemble with you, I’d liever at ’em at once, ’stead of let them sit awhile and