The Worm Ouroboros: The Prelude to Zimiamvia. James Francis Stephens

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The Worm Ouroboros: The Prelude to Zimiamvia - James Francis Stephens

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so his superstitious scruples may be unhurt when he proceeds to thy destruction. For on this are they determined. Nothing is more certain.’

      The Red Foliot sank his chin upon his breast, and stood silent for a space. The hues of death and silence spread themselves where late the fires of sunset glowed, and large stars opened like flowers on the illimitable fields of the night sky: Arcturus, Spica, Gemini, and the Little Dog, and Capella and her Kids.

      The Red Foliot said, ‘Witchland lieth at my door. And Demonland: how stand I with Demonland?’

      And Gro said, ‘Also tomorrow’s sun goeth up out of Witchland.’

      For a while they spoke not. Then Lord Gro took forth a scroll from his bosom, and said, ‘The harvest of this world is to the resolute, and he that is infirm of purpose is ground betwixt the upper and the nether millstone. Thou canst not turn back: so would they scorn and spurn thee, and we Witches likewise. And now by these means only may lasting peace be brought about, namely, by the setting of Gorice of Witchland on the throne of Demonland, and the utter humbling of that brood beneath the heel of the Witches.’

      The Red Foliot said, ‘Is not Gorice slain, and drank we not but now his arvale, slain by a Demon? And is he not the second in order of that line who hath so died by a Demon?’

      ‘A twelfth Gorice,’ said Gro, ‘at this moment of time sitteth King in Carcë. O Red Foliot, know thou that I am a reader of the planets of the night and of those hidden powers that work out the web of destiny. Whereby I know that this twelfth King of the house of Gorice in Carcë shall be a most crafty warlock, full of guiles and wiles, who by the might of his egromancy and the sword of Witchland shall exceed all earthly powers that be. And ineluctable as the levin-bolt of heaven goeth out his wrath against his enemies.’ So saying, Gro stooped and took a glow-worm from the grass, saying kindly to it, ‘Sweeting, thy lamp for a moment,’ and breathed upon it, and held it to the parchment, saying, ‘Sign now thy royal name to these articles, which require thee not at all to go to war, but only (in case war shall arise) to be of our party, and against these Demons that do privily pursue thy life.’

      But the Red Foliot said, ‘Wherein am I certified that thou speakest not a lie?’

      Then took Gro a writing from his purse and showed thereon a seal like the seal of Lord Juss; and there was written: ‘Unto Voll al love and truste: and fayll nat whenas thow saylest upon Wychlande to caste of III or iv shippes for the Folyott Isles to putt downe those and brenne the Redd Folyott in hys hous. For if wee get nat the lyfe of these wormes chirted owt of them the shame will stikk on us for ever.’ And Gro said, ‘My servant stole this from them while they spoke with thee in thine hall tonight.’

      Which the Red Foliot believed, and took from his belt his ink-horn and his pen, and signed his royal name to the articles of the treaty proposed to him.

      Therewith Lord Gro put up the parchment in his bosom and said, ‘Swift surgery. Needs must that we take them in their beds tonight; so shall tomorrow’s dawn bring glory and triumph to Witchland, now fixed in an eclipse, and to the whole world peace and soft contentment.’

      But the Red Foliot answered him, ‘My Lord Gro, I have signed these articles, and thereby stand I bound in enmity to Demonland. But I will not bewray my guests that have eaten my salt, be they never so deeply pledged mine enemies. Be it known to thee, I have set guards on your booths this night and on the booths of them of Demonland, that no unpeaceful deeds may be done betwixt you. This which I have done, by this will I stand, and ye shall both depart tomorrow in peace, even as ye came. Because I am your friend and sworn to your party, I and my Foliots will be on your side when war is between Witchland and Demonland. But I will not suffer night-slayings nor murthers in my Isles.’

      Now with these words of the Red Foliot, Lord Gro was as one that walketh along a flowery path to his rest, and in the last steps a gulf yawneth suddenly athwart the path, and he standeth a-gape and disappointed at the hither side. Yet in his subtlety he made no sign, but straight replied, ‘Righteously hast thou decreed and wisely, O Red Foliot, for it was truly said:

      Let worthy minds ne’er stagger in distrust

      To suffer death or shame for what is just,

      and that which we sow in darkness must unfold in the open light of day, lest it be found withered in the very hour of maturity. Nor would I have urged thee otherwise, but that I do throughly fear these Demons, and all my mind was to take their plotting in reverse. Do then one thing only for us. If we set sail homeward and they on our heels, they will fall upon us at a disadvantage, for they have the swifter ship; or if they get to sea before us, they will lie in wait for us on the high seas. Suffer us then to sail tonight, and do thou on some pretext delay them here for three days only, that we may get us home or ever they leave the Foliot Isles.’

      ‘I will not gainsay thee in this,’ answered the Red Foliot, ‘for here is nought but what is fair and just and lieth with mine honour. I will come to your booths at midnight and bring you down to your ship.’

      When Gro came to the Witches’ booths he found them guarded even as the Red Foliot had said, and the booths of them of Demonland in like manner. So went he into the royal booth where the King lay in state on a bier of spear-shafts, robed in his kingly robes over his armour that was painted black and inlaid with gold, and the crown of Witchland on his head. Two candles burned at the head of King Gorice and two at his feet; and the night wind blowing through the crannies of the booth made them flare and flicker, so that shadows danced unceasingly on the wall and roof and floor. On the benches round the walls sat the lords of Witchland sullen of countenance, for the wine was dead in them. Balefully they eyed Lord Gro at his coming in, and Corinius sate upright in his seat and said, ‘Here is the Goblin, father and fosterer of our misfortunes. Come, let us slay him.’

      Gro stood among them with head erect and held Corinius with his eye, saying, ‘We of Witchland are not run lunatic, my Lord Corinius, that we should do this gladness to the Demons, to bite each at the other’s throat like wolves. Methinks if Witchland be the land of my adoption only, yet have I not done least among you to ward off sheer destruction from her in this pass we stand in. If ye have aught against me, let me hear it and answer it.’

      Corinius laughed a bitter laugh. ‘Harken to the fool! Are we babies and milksops, thinkest thou, and is it not clear as day thou stoodest in the way of our falling on the Demons when we might have done so, urging what silly counsels I know not in favour of doing it by night? And now is night come, and we close prisoned in our booths, and no chance to come at them unless we would bring an hornets’ nest of Foliots about our ears and give warning of our intent to the Demons and every living soul in this island. And all this has come about since thy slinking off and plotting with the Red Foliot. But now hath thy guile overreached itself, and now we will kill thee, and so an end of thee and thy plotting.’

      With that Corinius sprang up and drew his sword, and the other Witches with him. But Lord Gro moved not an eyelid, only he said, ‘Hear mine answer first. All night lieth before us, and ’tis but a moment’s task to murther me.’

      Therewith stood forth the Lord Corund with his huge bulk betwixt Gro and Corinius, saying in a great voice, ‘Whoso shall point weapon ’gainst him shall first have to do with me, though it were one of my sons. We will hear him. If he clear not himself, then will we hew him in pieces.’

      They sat down, muttering. And Gro spake and said, ‘First behold this parchment, which is the articles of a solemn covenant and alliance, and behold where the Red Foliot hath set his sign manual thereto. True, his is a country of no might in arms, and we might tread him down and ne’er feel the leavings stick to our boot, and little avail can their weak help be unto us in the day of battle. But there is in these Isles a meetly good

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