Dariel: A Romance of SurreyBlackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
General
Dariel: A Romance of Surrey
Blackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
Surrey (England) -- Fiction
"'Imar, son of Dadian. Twice hast thou wronged me, thy brother in the
Lord. Thou hast robbed me of my portion of thy father's goods, and thou
hast set fire to my wealthiest village, destroying men, women, and
children. Though thou art now a great man of battle, and strong among
the strongest, so that thy name is as that of Minghi Tau, yet shall that
mighty head be fetched down, and those strong hands shall feed the dogs
of Kektris. The only hope left thee of escaping this destruction is if
thou sendest to the glacier of Gumaran, before the snows fill up the
valley again, gold and cattle, and household goods, according to the
number herein set down, which is far less than thou owest me, and will
not make peace between us for the village thou hast destroyed. But this
if thou doest, I will pray for thy repentance, and thy sister whom thou
hast robbed will permit thee to look upon her face again. Rakhan, Prince
of the noble Ossets.'
"There was also another signature, broken and crooked, as if the hand
had been seized in another, and compelled to shape the name of _Marva_.
Then I hoped that my sister had not turned against me in her heart,
though constrained by her fierce and wicked husband; and I ordered the
messenger to wait, and fed him with dainties that he knew not how to
handle, while I preserved my temper even against the insult of that
address. For now I was entitled to be addressed as _Sûr_, of which we
think more than the common word _Prince_; for it is a designation of
warlike rank, imported from the furthest Orient, and ascribed to none
but a Chief who has led his tribe into battle with a foreign foe.
Scorning to show anger, I wrote thus--
"'Accursed murderer of my father, and serpent robber of my sister. Thou
hast piled up a mountain of lies, so vast, and of such deadly blackness,
that the snow of thy guile cannot cover them. A man of lower rank than
mine may descend into the filth where thou grovellest, and strive to vie
with thee in vermin. But I will leave thee to the Lord, who heedeth the
smallest thing that He hath deigned to make. Yet that my sister be not a
widow, one thing I will say to thee. Let not the right bank of the Terek
be tainted by thine evil-smelling body. Lest, for the sake of those whom
the Heaven valueth, it be plunged into the bottomless bog. For verily
there are foul reeks of Satan, sent by his malice to corrupt the air.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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