E.R. Eddison - The Worm Ouroboros

by

E. R. Eddison

CONTENTS:

I -The Castle of Lord Juss

II -The Wrastling for Demonland

III -The Red Foliot

IV -Conjuring in the Iron Tower

V -King Gorices Sending

VI -The Claws of Witchland

VII -Guests of the King in Carc

VIII -The First Expedition to Impland

IX -Salapanta Hills

X -The Marchlands of the Moruna

XI -The Burg of Eshgrar Ogo

XII -Koshtra Pivrarcha

XIII -Koshtra Belorn

XIV -The Lake of Ravary

XV -Queen Prezmyra

XVI -The Lady Srivas Embassage

XVII -The King Flies His Haggard

XVIIIXVIIIThe Murther of Gallandus by Corsus

XIX -Thremnirs Heugh

XX -King Corinius

XXI -The Parley Before Krothering

XXII -Aurwath and Switchwater

XXIII -The Weird Begun of Ishnain Nemartra

XXIV -A King in Krothering

XXV -Lord Gro and the Lady Mevrian

XXVI -The Battle of Krothering Side

XXVII -The Second Expedition to Impland

XXVIII -Zora Rach Nam Psarrion

XXIX -The Fleet at Muelva

XXX -Tidings of Melikaphkhaz

XXXI -The Demons Before Carc

XXXII -The Latter End of All the Lords of Witchland

XXXIII -Queen Sophonisba in Galing

ARGUMENT: WITH DATES

To W.G.E. and to my friends K.H. and G.C.L.M.

I dedicate this book

It is neither allegory nor fable but a Story to be read for its own sake.

The proper names I have tried to spell simply. The e in Carc is long, like that in Phryne, the o

in Krothering short and the accent on that syllable: Corund is accented on the first syllable,

Prezmyra on the second, Brandoch Daha on the first and fourth, Gorice on the last syllable,

rhyming with thrice: Corinius rhymes with Flaminius, Galing with sailing, La Fireez with desire

ease: ch is always guttural, as in loch.

E.R.E.

9th January 1922

THERE was a man named Lessingham dwelt in an old low house in Wasdale, set in a gray old garden

where yew-trees flourished that had seen Vikings in Copeland in their seedling time. Lily and rose and

larkspur bloomed in the borders, and begonias with blossoms big as saucers, red and white and pink and

lemon-colour, in the beds before the porch. Climbing roses, honeysuckle, clematis, and the scarlet

flame-flower scrambled up the walls. Thick woods were on every side without the garden, with a gap

north-eastward opening on the desolate lake and the great fells beyond it: Gable rearing his cragbound

head against the sky from behind the straight clean outline of the Screes.

Cool long shadows stole across the tennis lawn. The air was golden. Doves murmured in the trees; two

chaffinches played on the near post of the net; a little water-wagtail scurried along the path. A French

window stood open to the garden, showing darkly a dining-room panelled with old oak, its Jacobean

table bright with flowers and silver and cut glass and Wedgwood dishes heaped with fruit: greengages,

peaches, and green muscat grapes. Lessingham lay back in a hammock-chair watching through the blue

smoke of an after-dinner cigar the warm light on the Gloire de Dijon roses that clustered about the

bedroom window overhead. He had her hand in his. This was their House.

bedroom window overhead. He had her hand in his. This was their House.

She took the heavy volume with its faded green cover, and read: He went out on the night of the Lords

day, when nine weeks were still to winter; he heard a great crash, so that he thought both heaven and

earth shook. Then he looked into the west airt, and he thought he saw thereabouts a ring of fiery hue, and

within the ring a man on a gray horse. He passed quickly by him, and rode hard. He had a flaming

firebrand in his hand, and he rode so close to him that he could see him plainly. He was black as pitch,

and he sung this song with a mighty voice

Here I ride swift steed.

His flank flecked with rime.

Rain from his mane drips.

Horse mighty for harm;

Flames flare at each end.

Gall glows in the midst.

So fares it with Flosis redes

As this flaming brand flies;

And so fares it with Flosis redes

As this flaming brand flies.

Then he thought he hurled the firebrand east towards the fells before him, and such a blaze of fire leapt

up to meet it that he could not see the fells for the blaze. It seemed as though that man rode east among

the flames and vanished there.

After that he went to his bed, and was senseless for a long time, but at last he came to himself. He bore

in mind all that had happened, and told his father, but he bade him tell it to Hjallti Skeggis son. So he

went and told Hjallti, but he said he had seen the Wolfs Ride, and that comes ever before great

tidings.

They were silent awhile; then Lessingham said suddenly, Do you mind if we sleep in the east wing

tonight?

What, in the Lotus Room?

Yes.

Im too much of a lazy-bones tonight, dear, she answered.

Do you mind if I go alone, then? I shall be back to breakfast. I like my lady with me; still, we can go

again when next moon wanes. My pet is not frightened, is she?

No! she said, laughing. But her eyes were a little big. Her fingers played with his watch-chain. Id

rather, she said presently, you went later on and took me. All this is so odd still: the House, and that;

and I love it so. And after all, it is a long way and several years too, sometimes, in the Lotus Room, even

though it is all over next morning. Id rather we went together. If anything happened then, well, wed both

be done in, and it wouldnt matter so much, would it?

Both be what? said Lessingham. Im afraid your language is not all that might be wished.

Well, you taught me! said she; and they laughed.

They sat there till the shadows crept over the lawn and up the trees, and the high rocks of the mountain

shoulder beyond burned red in the evening rays. He said, If you like to stroll a bit of way up the fell-side,

Mercury is visible tonight. We might get a glimpse of him just after sunset.

Mercury is visible tonight. We might get a glimpse of him just after sunset.

He said, It is as if Mercury had a finger on me tonight, Mary. Its no good my trying to sleep tonight

except in the Lotus Room.

Her arm tightened in his. Mercury? she said. It is another world. It is too far.

But he laughed and said, Nothing is too far.

They turned back as the shadows deepened. As they stood in the dark of the arched gate leading from

the open fell into the garden, the soft clear notes of a spinet sounded from the house. She put up a finger.

Hark, she said. Your daughter playing Les Barricades.

They stood listening. She loves playing, he whispered. Im glad we taught her to play. Presently he

whispered again, Les Barricades Mysterieuses. What inspired Couperin with that enchanted name?

And only you and I know what it really means. Les Barricades Mysterieuses.

That night Lessingham lay alone in the Lotus Room. Its casements opened eastward on the sleeping

woods and the sleeping bare slopes of Illgill Head. He slept soft and deep; for that was the House of

Postmeridian, and the House of Peace.

In the deep and dead time of the night, when the waning moon peered over the mountain shoulder, he

woke suddenly. The silver beams shone through the open window on a form perched at the foot of the

bed: a little bird, black, round-headed, short-beaked, with long sharp wings, and eyes like two stars