Fantasy fiction; Imaginary wars and battles -- Fiction
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.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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