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Essential Novelists - Eric Rücker Eddison. August NemoЧитать онлайн книгу.

Essential Novelists - Eric Rücker Eddison - August Nemo


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this offer on a parchment. “The most fearfullest oaths thou knowest,” said Corund; and Gro wrote them, whispering, “He mocketh us only.” But Corund said, “No matter: ’tis a chance worth our chancing,” and slowly and with labour signed his name to the writing, and gave it to Lord Brandoch Daha.

      Brandoch Daha read it attentively, and tucked it in his bosom beneath his byrny. “This,” he said, “shall be a keepsake for me of thee, my Lord Corund. Reminding me,” and here his eyes grew terrible, “so long as there surviveth a soul of you in Witchland, that I am still to teach the world throughly what that man must abide that durst affront me with such an offer.”

      Corund answered him, “Thou art a dapper fellow. It is a wonder that thou wilt strut in the tented field with all this womanish gear. Thy shield: how many of these sparkling baubles thinkest thou I’d leave in it were we once come to knocks?”

      “I’ll tell thee,” answered Lord Brandoch Daha. “For every jewel that hath been beat out of my shield in battle, never yet went I to war that I brought not home an hundredfold to set it fair again, from the spoils I obtained from mine enemies. Now this will I bid thee, O Corund, for thy scornful words: I will bid thee to single combat, here and in this hour. Which if thou deny, then art thou an open and apparent dastard.”

      Corund chuckled in his beard, but his brow darkened somewhat. “I pray what age dost thou take me of?” said he. “I bare a sword when thou was yet in swaddling clothes. Behold mine armies, and what advantage I hold upon you. Oh, my sword is enchanted, my lord: it will not out of the scabbard.”

      Brandoch Daha smiled disdainfully, and said to Spitfire, “Mark well, I pray thee, this great lord of Witchland. How many true fingers hath a Witch on his left hand?”

      “As many as on his right,” said Spitfire.

      “Good. And how many on both?”

      “Two less than a deuce,” said Spitfire; “for they be false fazarts to the fingers’ ends.”

      “Very well answered,” said Lord Brandoch Daha.

      “You’re pleasant,” Corund said. “But your fusty jibes move me not a whit. It were a simple part indeed to take thine offer when all wise counsels bid me use my power and crush you.”

      “Thou’dst kill me soon with thy mouth,” said Brandoch Daha. “In sum, thou art a brave man when it comes to roaring and swearing: a big bubber of wine, as men say to drink drunk is an ordinary matter with thee every day in the week; but I fear thou durst not fight.”

      “Doth not thy nose swell at that?” said Spitfire.

      But Corund shrugged his shoulders. “A footra for your baits!” he answered. “I am scarce bounden to do such a kindness to you of Demonland as Jay down mine advantage and fight alone, against a sworder. Your old foxes are seldom taken in springes.”

      “I thought so,” said Lord Brandoch Daha. “Surely the frog will have hair sooner than any of you Witchlanders shall dare to stand me.”

      So ended the second parley before Eshgrar Ogo. The same day Corund essayed again to storm the hold, and grievous was the battle and hard put to it were they of Demonland to hold the walls. Yet in the end were Corund’s men thrown back with great slaughter. And night fell, and they returned to their tents.

      “Mine invention,” said Gro, when on the next day they took counsel together, “hath yet some contrivance in her purse which shall do us good, if it fall but out to our mind. But I doubt much it will dislike thee.”

      “Well, say it out, and I’ll give thee my censure on’t,” said Corund.

      Gro spake: “It hath been shown we may not have down this tree by hewing above ground. Let’s dig about the roots. And first give them a seven-night’s space for reckoning up their chances, that they may see morning and evening from the burg thine armies set down to in. vest them. Then, when their hopes are something sobered by that sight, and want of action hath trained their minds to sad reflection, call them to parley, going straight beneath the wall; and this time shalt thou address thyself only to the common sort, offering them all generous and free conditions thou canst think on. There’s little they can ask that we’d not blithely grant them if they’ll but yield us up their captains.”

      “It mislikes me,” answered Corund. “Yet it may serve, But thou shalt be my spokesman herein. For never yet went I cap in hand to ask favour of the common muck o’ the world, nor I will not do it now.”

      “O but thou must,” said Gro. “Of thee they will receive in good faith what in me they would account but practice.”

      “That’s true enough,” said Corund., “But I cannot stomach it. Withal, I am too rough spoken.”

      Gro smiled. “He that hath need of a dog,” he said, “calleth him ‘Sir Dog.’ Come, come, I’ll school thee to it. Is it not a smaller thing than months of tedious hardship in this frozen desert? Bethink thee too what honour it were to thee to ride home to Carcë with Juss and Spitfire and Brandoch Daha bounden in a string.”

      Not without much persuasion was Corund won to this. Yet at the last he consented. For seven days and seven nights his armies sat before the burg without sign; and on the eighth day he bade the Demons to a parley, and when that was granted went with his sons and twenty men-at-arms up the great rib of rock between the lakes, and stood below the east wall of the burg. Bitter chill was the air that day. Powdery snow light-fallen blew in little wisps along the ground, and the rocks were slippery with an invisible coat of ice. Lord Gro, being troubled with an ague, excused himself from that faring and kept his tent.

      Corund stood beneath the walls with his folk about him. “I have matter of import,” he cried, “and It is need, ful it be heard both by the highest and the lowest amongst you. Ere I begin, summon them all to this part of the walls: a look-out is enow to shield you of the other parts from any sudden onslaught, which besides I swear to you is clean without my purpose.” So when they were thick on the wall above him, he began to say, “Soldiers of Demonland, against you had I never quarrel. Behold how in this Impland I have made freedom flourish as a flower. I have strook off the heads of Philpritz Faz, and Illarosh, and Lurmesh, and Gandassa, and Fax Fay Faz, that were the lords and governors here aforetime, abounding in all the bloody and crying sins, oppression, gluttony, idleness, cruelty, and extortion. And of my clemency I delivered all their possessions unto their subjects to hold and order after their own will alone, who before did put on patience and endured with much heart-burning the tyranny of these Fazes, until by me they found a remedy for their more freedom. In like manner, not against you do I war, O men of Demonland; but against the tyrants that enforced you for their private gain to suffer hardship and death in this remote country: namely, against Juss and Spitfire that came hither in quest of their cursed brother whom the might of the great King hath happily removed. And against Brandoch Daha am I come, of insolence untamed, who liveth a chambering idle life eating and drinking and exercising tyranny, while the pleasant lands of Krothering and Failze and Stropardon, and the dwellers in the isles, Sorbey, Morvey, Strufey, Dalney, and Kenarvey, and they of Westmark and all the western parts of Demonland groan and wax lean to feed his luxury. To your hurt only have these three led you, as cattle to the slaughter. Deliver them to me, that I may chastise them, and I, that am great viceroy of Impland, will make you free and grant you lordships: a lordship for every man of you in this my realm of Impland.”

      While Corund spake, the Lord Brandoch Daha went among the soldiers bidding them hold their peace and not murmur against Corund. But those that were most hot for action he sent about an errand preparing what he had in mind. So that when the Lord Corund ceased from his declaiming, all was ready to hand, and with one voice the soldiers of Lord Juss that stood upon the wall cried out and said, “This is thy word, O Corund, and this our answer,” and therewith flung down upon him from pots and buckets and every kind of vessel a deluge of slops and offal and all filth that came to hand. A bucketful took Corund in the mouth, befouling all his great beard, so that he gave back spitting. And he and his, standing close beneath the wall, and little expecting so sudden and ill an answer, fared shamefully,


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