The Sword of Welleran and Other Stories — John Shaqi
The Sword of Welleran and Other StoriesDunsany, Lord
Science
The Sword of Welleran and Other Stories
Dunsany, Lord
Fantasy fiction, English
‘When Nehemoth awakes he summons slaves who bring a palanquin with
bells, which the King enters, having lightly robed. Then the slaves run
and bear him to the onyx Chamber of the Bath, with the sound of small
bells ringing as they run. And when Nehemoth emerges thence, bathed and
anointed, the slaves run on with their ringing palanquin and bear him
to the Orient Chamber of Banquets, where the King takes the first meal
of the day. Thence, through the great white corridor whose windows all
face sunwards, Nehemoth, in his palanquin, passes on to the Audience
Chamber of Embassies from the North, which is all decked with Northern
wares.
‘All about it are ornaments of amber from the North and carven chalices
of the dark brown Northern crystal, and on its floors lie furs from
Baltic shores.
‘In adjoining chambers are stored the wonted food of the hardy Northern
men, and the strong wine of the North, pale but terrible. Therein the
King receives barbarian princes from the frigid lands. Thence the
slaves bear him swiftly to the Audience Chamber of Embassies from the
East, where the walls are of turquoise, studded with the rubies of
Ceylon, where the gods are the gods of the East, where all the hangings
have been devised in the gorgeous heart of Ind, and where all the
carvings have been wrought with the cunning of the isles. Here, if a
caravan hath chanced to have come in from Ind or from Cathay, it is
the King’s wont to converse awhile with Moguls or Mandarins, for from
the East come the arts and knowledge of the world, and the converse
of their people is polite. Thus Nehemoth passes on through the other
Audience Chambers and receives, perhaps, some Sheikhs of the Arab
folk who have crossed the great desert from the West, or receives an
embassy sent to do him homage from the shy jungle people to the South.
And all the while the slaves with the ringing palanquin run westwards,
following the sun, and ever the sun shines straight into the chamber
where Nehemoth sits, and all the while the music from one or other of
his bands of musicians comes tinkling to his ears. But when the middle
of the day draws near, the slaves run to the cool groves that lie along
the verandahs on the northern side of the palace, forsaking the sun,
and as the heat overcomes the genius of the musicians, one by one their
hands fall from their instruments, till at last all melody ceases. At
this moment Nehemoth falls asleep, and the slaves put the palanquin
down and lie down beside it. At this hour the city becomes quite
still, and the palace of Nehemoth and the tombs of the Pharaohs of old
face to the sunlight, all alike in silence. Even the jewellers in the
market-place, selling gems to princes, cease from their bargaining and
cease to sing; for in Babbulkund the vendor of rubies sings the song of
the ruby, and the vendor of sapphires sings the song of the sapphire,
and each stone hath its song, so that a man, by his song, proclaims and
makes known his wares.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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