Corsus, as he rode by beneath them, planted on the point of his sword his great helm of bronze plumed with green-dyed estridge-plumes and raised it high above his head in homage to the King. The sparse gray locks of his hair lifted in the breeze, and pride flamed on the heavy face of him like a November sunset. He rode a dark bay, heavily built like a bear, that stepped ponderously as weighed down by his rider’s bulk and the great weight of gear and battle-harness. His veterans marching at his heel lifted their helms on spear and sword and bill, singing their old marching song in time to the clank of their mailed feet marching down the Way of Kings: When Corsus dwelt at Tenemos, Beside the sea in Tenemos, _Tirra lirra lay_, The Gowles came downe to Tenemos, They brent his house in Tenemos, _Downe derie downe day_. But Corsus carved the Gowls The coarsest meat They ere did ete, He made him garters with their bowels. When hee came home to Tenemos, Came home agayn to Tenemos, _With a roundelaye_. The King held aloft his staff-royal, returning Corsus his salute, and all Carcë shouted from the walls. In such wise rode the Lord Corsus down to the ships with his great army that should bring bale and woe to Demonland. XVIII: THE MURTHER OF GALLANDUS BY CORSUS OF THE UPRISING OF THE WARS OF KING GORICE XII. IN DEMONLAND; WHEREIN IS SEEN HOW IN AN OLD MAN OF WAR STIFFNECKEDNESS AND TYRANNY MAY OVERLIVE GOOD GENERALSHIP, AND HOW A GREAT KING’S DISPLEASURE DURETH ONLY SO LONG AS IT AGREETH WITH HIS POLICY. Nought befell to tell of after the sailing of the fleet from Tenemos till August was nigh spent. Then came a ship of Witchland from the west and sailed up the river to Carcë and moored by the water-gate. Her skipper went straight aland and up into the royal palace in Carcë and the new banquet hall, whereas was King Gorice XII. eating and drinking with his folk. And the skipper gave letters into the hand of the King. By then was night fallen, and all the bright lights kindled in the hall. The feast was three parts done, and thralls poured forth unto the King and unto them that sat at meat with him dark wines that crown the banquet. And they set before the feasters sweetmeats wondrous fair: bulls and pigs and gryphons and other, made all of sugar paste, some wines and spigots in their bellies to draw at, and suckets of all sorts cut out of their bellies to taste of, every one with his silver fork. Mirth and pleasure was that night in the great hall in Carcë; but now were all fallen silent, looking on the King’s countenance while he read his letters. But none might read the countenance of the King, that was inscrutable as the high blind walls of Carcë brooding on the fen. So in that waiting silence, sitting in his great high seat, he read his letters, which were sent by Corsus, and writ in manner following: