Part 22

She broke off suddenly, saying, “Come, I have shook off the ill disposition the sight of Laxus bred in me and of his tawdry crown. Let’s think on action. And first, I will tell thee a thing. This we spoke of hath been in my mind these two or three moons, ever since Corinius’s campaigning in Pixyland. So when word came of my lord’s destroying of the Demon host, and his driving of Juss and Brandoch Daha like runaway thralls on the Moruna, I sent him a letter by the hand of Viglus that bare him from our Lord the King the king’s name in Impland. Therein I expressed how that the crown of Demonland should be a braver crown for us than this of Impland, howsoe’er it sparkle, praying him urge upon the King his sending of an armament to Demonland, and my lord the leader thereof; or, if he could not as then come home to ask it, then I entreated him make me his ambassador to lay this counsel before the King and crave the enterprise for Corund.”

“Is not his answer in those letters I brought thee?” said Gro.

“Ay,” said she, “and a very scurvy beggarly lickspittle answer for a great lord to send to such a matter as I propounded. Alack, it puffs away all my wifely duty but to speak on’t, and makes me rail like a gangrel-woman.”

“I’ll walk apart, madam,” said Gro, “if thou wouldst have privateness to deliver thy mind.”

Prezmyra laughed. “’Tis not all so bad,” she said, “and yet it makes me angry. The enterprise he commends, up to the hilt, and I have his leave to broach it to the King, as his mouth-piece, and press it with him out of all ho. But 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 to-night, 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 to-morrow’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 night-long and I had not caught thee.”

The lady laughed. “Last night my father kept me by him; and to-night, 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 for ever,” 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 noon-day. Corinius bent down his face and kissed her fiercely, saying, “By all the sweets that ever darkness tasted, thou art mine to-night.”

“To-morrow,” she said, as if stifled.

But Corinius said, “My dearest happiness, to-night.”

“My dear lord,” said the Lady Sriva softly, “sith thou hast made such a conquest of my love, be not a harsh and froward conqueror. I swear to thee by all the dreadful powers that clip the earth about, there’s matter in it I should to my father this night, nay more, now on the instant. ’Twas this only made me avoid thee but now: this, and no light conceit to vex thee.”

“He can attend our pleasure,” said Corinius. “’Tis an old man, and oft sitteth late at his book.”

“How? and thou leftest him carousing?” said she. “There’s that I must impart to him ere the wine quite o’erflow his wits. Even this delay, how sweet soe’er to us, is dangerous.”

But Corinius said, “I will not let thee go.”

“Well,” said she, “be a beast, then. But know I’ll cry on a rescue shall make all Carcë run to find us, and my brothers, ay, and Laxus, if he be a man, shall deal thee bitter payment for thy violence toward me. But if thou wilt be thy noble self, and respect my love with friendship, let me go. And if thou come secretly to my chamber door, an hour past midnight; I think thou’lt find no bolt to it.”

“Ha, thou swearest it?” he said.

She answered, “Else may steep destruction swallow me quick.”

“An hour past midnight. And until then ’tis a year in my desires,” said he.

“There spoke my noble lover,” said Sriva, giving him her mouth once more. And swiftly she fared through the shadowy archway and across the court to where in the north gallery her father Corsus had his chamber.

The Lord Corinius went back to his seat, and there reclined for a space in slothful ease, humming to an old tune:

My Mistris is a shittle-cock, Compos’d of Cork and feather; Each Battledore sets on her dock, And bumps her on the leather. But cast her off which way you Will, She will requoile to another still— Fa, la, la, la, la, la.

He stretched his arms and yawned. “Well, Laxus, my chub-faced meacock, this medicine hath eased powerfully my discontent. ’Tis but fair, sith I must miss my crown, that I should have thy mistress. And to say true, seeing how base, little, and ordinary a kingdom is this of Pixyland, and what a delectable sweet wagtail this Sriva, whom besides I have these two years past ne’er looked on but my mouth watered: why, I may hold me part paid for the nonce; until I weary of her.

Love is all my life, For it keeps me doing: Yet my love and wooing Is not for a Wife—

“An hour past midnight, ha? What wine’s best for lovers? I’ll go drink a stoup, and so to dice with some of these lads to pass away the time till then.”

XVI: THE LADY SRIVA’S EMBASSAGE

HOW THE DUKE CORSUS THOUGHT IT PROPER TO COMMIT AN ERRAND OF STATE UNTO HIS DAUGHTER: AND HOW SHE PROSPERED THEREIN.

Sriva fared swiftly to her father’s closet, and finding her lady mother sewing in her chair, nodding toward sleep, two candles at her left and right, she said, “My lady mother, there’s a queen’s crown waits the plucking. ’Twill drop into the foreign woman’s lap if thou and my father bestir you not. Where is he? Still i’ the banquet house? Thou or I must fetch him on the instant.”

“Fie!” cried Zenambria. “How thou’st startled me! Fall somewhat into a slower speech, my girl. With such wild sudden talk I know not what thou meanest nor what’s the matter.”

But Sriva answered, “Matter of state. Thou goest not? Good, then I fetch him. Thou shalt hear all anon, mother;” and so turned towards the door. Nor might all her mother’s crying out upon the scandal of their so returning to the banquet long past the hour of the women’s withdrawal turn her from this. So that the Lady Zenambria, seeing her so wilful, thought it less evil to go herself; and so went, and in awhile returned with Corsus.

Corsus sat in his great chair over against his lady wife, while his daughter told her tale.

“Twice and thrice,” said she, “they passed me by, as near as I stand to thee, O my father, she leaning most familiarly on the arm of her curled philosopher. ’Twas plain they had never a thought that any was by to overhear them. She said so and so;” and therewith Sriva told all that was spoke by the Lady Prezmyra as to an expedition to Demonland, and as to her purposed speaking with the King, and as to her design that Corund should be his general for that sailing, and letters sealed on the morrow for his straight recall from Orpish.

The Duke listened unmoved, breathing heavily, leaning heavily forward, his elbow on his knees, one great fat hand twisting and pushing back the sparse gray growth of his moustachios. His eyes shifted with sullen glance about the chamber, and his blabber cheeks, scarlet from the feast, flushed to a deeper hue.

Zenambria said, “Alas, and did not I tell thee long ago, my lord, that Corund did ill to wed with a young wife? And thence cometh now that shame that was but to be looked for. It is pity indeed of so goodly a man, now past his prime age, she should so play at fast and loose with his honour, and he at the far end of the world. Indeed and indeed, I hope he will revenge it on her at his coming home. For sure I am, Corund is too high-minded to buy advancement at so shameful a price.”

“Thy talk, wife,” said Corsus, “showeth long hair and a short wit. In brief, thou art a fool.”

He was silent for a space, then raised his gaze to Sriva, where she rested, her back to the massive table, half standing, half sitting, a dainty jewel-besparkled hand planted on the table’s edge at her either side, her arms like delicate white pillars supporting that fair frame. Somewhat his dull eye brightened, resting on her. “Come hither,” he said, “on my knee: so.”

When she was seated, “’Tis a brave gown,” said he, “thou wearest to-night, my pretty pug. Red, for a sanguine humour.” His great arm gave her a back, and his hand, huge as a platter, lay like a buckler beneath her breast. “Thou smell’st passing sweet.”

“’Tis malabathrum in the leaf,” answered she.

“I’m glad it likes thee, my lord,” said Zenambria. “My woman still protesteth that such, being boiled with wine, yieldeth a perfume that passeth all other.”

Corsus still looked on Sriva. After a while he asked, “What madest thou on the terrace i’ the dark, ha?”

She looked down, saying, “It was Laxus prayed me meet him there.”

“Hum!” said Corsus, “’Tis strange then he should await thee this hour gone by in the paved alley of the privy court.”

“He did mistake me,” said Sriva. “And well is he served, for such neglect.”

“So. And thou turnest politician to-night, my little puss-cat?” said Corsus. “And thou smellest an expedition to Demonland? ’Tis like enow. But methinks the King will send Corinius.”

“Corinius?” said Sriva. “It is not thought so. ’Tis Corund must have it, if thou push not the matter to a decision with the King to-night, O my father, ere my lady fox be private with him to-morrow.”

“Bah!” said Corsus. “Thou art but a girl, and knowest nought. She hath not the full blood nor the resolution to carry it thus. No, ’tis not Corund stands i’ the light, it is Corinius. It is therefore the King withheld from him Pixyland, which was his due, and tossed the bauble to Laxus.”

“Why, ’tis a monstrous thing,” said Zenambria, “if Corinius shall have Demonland, which surely much surpasseth this crown of Pixyland. Shall this novice have all the meat, and thou, because thou art old, have nought but the bones and the parings?”

“Hold thy tongue, mistress,” said Corsus, looking upon her as one looketh on a sour mixture. “Why hadst not the wit to angle for him for thy daughter?”

“Truly, husband, I’m sorry for it,” said Zenambria.

The Lady Sriva laughed, placing her arm about her father’s bullock-neck and playing with his whiskers. “Content thee,” she said, “my lady mother. I have my choice, and that is very certain, of these and of all other in Carcë. And now I bethink me on the Lord Corinius, why, there’s a proper man indeed: weareth a shaven lip too, which, as experienced opinion shall tell thee, far exceedeth your nasty moustachios.”

“Well,” said Corsus, kissing her, “howe’er it shape, I’ll to the King to-night to move my matter with him. Meanwhile, madam,” he said to Zenambria, “I’ll have thee take thy chamber straight. Bolt well the door, and for more safety I will lock it myself o’ the outer side. There’s much mirth toward to-night, and I’d not have these staggering drunken swads offend thee, as full well might befall, whiles I am on mine errand of state.”

Zenambria bade him good-night, and would have taken her daughter with her, but Corsus said nay to this, saying, “I’ll see her safe bestowed.”

When they were alone, and the Lady Zenambria locked away in her chamber, Corsus took forth from an oaken cupboard a great silver flagon and two chased goblets. These he brimmed with a sparkling yellow wine from the flagon and made Sriva drink with him not once only but twice, emptying each time her goblet. Then he drew up his chair and sinking heavily into it folded his arms upon the table and buried his head upon them.

Sriva paced back and forth, impatient at her father’s strange posture and silence. Surely the wine lighted riot in her veins; surely in that silent room came back to her Corinius’s kisses hot upon her mouth, the strength of his arms like bands of bronze holding her embraced. Midnight tolled. Her bones seemed to melt within her as she bethought her of her promise, due in an hour.

“Father,” said she at last, “midnight hath stricken. Wilt thou not go ere it be too late?”

The Duke raised his face and looked at her. He answered “No.” “No,” he said again, “where’s the profit? I wax old, my daughter, and must wither. The world is to the young. To Corinius; to Laxus; to thee. But most of all to Corund, who if a be old yet hath his mess of sons, and mightiest of all his wife, to be his ladder to climb thrones withal.”

“But thou saidst but now——” said Sriva.

“Ay, when thy mammy was by. She cometh to her second childhood before her time, so as to a child I speak to her. Corund did ill to wed with a young wife, ha? Phrut! Is not this the very bulwark and rampire of his fortune? Didst ever see a fellow so spurted up in a moment? My secretary when I managed the old wars against the Ghouls, and now climbed clean over me, that am yet nine year his elder. Called king, forsooth, and like to be ta’en soon (under the King) for Dominus fac totum throughout all the land if a play this woman as a should. Will not the King, for such payment as she intends, give Demonland upon Impland and all the world beside? Hell’s dignity, that would I, and ’twere offered me.”

He stood up, reaching unsteadily for the wine jug. Furtively he watched his daughter, shifting his gaze ever as her eye met his.

“Corund,” said he, pouring out some wine, “would split his sides for laughter to hear thy mother’s prim-mouthed brabble: he that hath enjoined upon his wife, there’s ne’er a doubt on’t, this very errand, and if he visit it on her at his coming home ’twill but be with hotter love and gratitude for that she wins him in our despite. Trust me, ’tis not every lady of quality shall find favour with a King.”

The casement stood open, and while they stood without speech sounds of a lute trembled upward from the court below, and a man’s voice, soft and deep, singing this song:

Hornes to the bull, Hooves to the steede, To little hayres Light feete for speed, And unto lions she giveth tethe A-gaping dangerouslye.

Fishes to swim, And birds to flye, And men to judge And reeson why, She teacheth. Yet for womankind None of these thinges hath she.

For women beautie She hath made Their onely shielde Their onely blade. O’er sword and fire they triumph stille, Soe they but beautious be.

The Lady Sriva knew it was Laxus singing to her chamber window. Her blood beat wildly, the spirit of enterprise winging her imagination not toward him, nor yet Corinius, but into paths strangely and perilously inviting, undreamed of until now. The Duke her father came towards her, thrusting the chairs from his way, and saying, “Corund and his mess of sons! Corund and his young Queen! If he conjure with the white rose, why not thou and I with the red? It hath as fair a look, the devil damn me else, and savoureth as excellent sweet perfume.”

She stared at him big-eyed, with blushing cheeks. He took her hands in his.

“Shall this outland woman,” he said, “and her sallow-cheeked gallant still ruffle it over us? Long beards, whether they be white or black, are too huge a blemish in our eye, methinks. The thing seemeth not supportable, that this precise madam with her foreign fashions—Dost fear to stand i’ the field against her?”

Sriva put her forehead on his shoulder and said, scarce to be heard, “And it come to that, I’ll show thee.”

“It must be now,” said Corsus. “Prezmyra, thou hast told me, seeketh audience betimes i’ the morning. Women are best at night-time, too.”

“If Laxus should hear thee!” she said.

He answered, “Tush, he need never blame thee, even if he knew on’t, and we can manage that. Thy silly mother prated but now of honour. ’Tis but a school-name; and if ’twere other, tell me whence springeth the fount of honour if not from the King of Kings? If he receive thee, then art thou honoured, and all they that have to do with thee. I am yet to learn dishonour lieth on that man or woman whom the King doth honour.”

She laughed, turning from him toward the window, her hands still held in his. “Foh, thou hast given me a strong potion! and I think that swayeth me more than thy many arguments, O my father, which to say truth I cannot well remember because I did not much believe.”

Duke Corsus took her by the shoulders. His face overlooked her by a little, for she was not tall of build. “By the Gods,” he said, “’tis a stronger sweet scent of the red rose to make a great man drunk withal than of the white, though that be a bigger flower.” And he said, “Why not, for a game, for a madcap jest? A mantle and hood, a mask if thou wilt, and my ring to prove thee mine ambassador. I’ll attend thee through the court-yard to the foot o’ the stairs.”

She said nothing, smiling at him as she turned for him to put the great velvet mantle about her shoulders.

“Ha,” said he, “’tis well seen a daughter is worth ten sons.”

• • • • •