Fantasy fiction; Imaginary wars and battles -- Fiction
The Prince La Fireez answered and said, “Keep frowns and threats for
thine offending thralls, O King, since me they affright not, and I
laugh them to scorn. Nor am I careful to answer thine injurious words;
since well thou knowest my old friendship unto thine house, O King,
and unto Witchland, and by what bands of marriage I am bound in love
to the Lord Corund, to whom I gave my lady sister. If it suit not my
stomach to proclaim like a servile minister thy suzerainty, yet needest
thou not to carp at this, since thy tribute is paid thee, ay, and in
over-measure. But unto Demonland am I bound, as all the world knoweth,
and sooner shalt thou prevail upon the lamps of heaven to come down
and fight for thee against the Demons than upon me. And unto Corinius
that so boasteth I say that Demonland hath ever been too hard for you
Witches. Goldry Bluszco and Brandoch Daha have shown you this. This is
my counsel unto thee, O King, to make peace with Demonland: my reasons,
first that thou hast no just cause of quarrel with them, next (and this
should sway thee more) that if thou persist in fighting against them it
will be the ruin of thee and of all Witchland.”
The King bit his fingers with signs of wonderful anger, and for a
minute’s time no sound was in that hall. Only Corund spake privately to
the King saying, “Lord, O for all sakes swallow your royal rage. You
may whip him when my son Hacmon returneth, but till then he outnumbers
us, and your own party so overwhelmed with wine that, trust me, I
would not adventure the price of a turnip on our chances if it come to
fighting.”
Troubled at heart was Corund, for well he knew how dear beyond account
his lady wife held the keeping of the peace betwixt La Fireez and the
Witches.
In this moment Corsus, somewhat roused in an evil hour out of lethargy
by the loud talk and movement, began to sing:
When all the prisons hereabout
Have justled all their prisoners out,
Because indeed they have no cause
To keepe ’em in by common laws.
Whereat Corinius, in whom wine and quarrelling and the King’s rebukes
had lighted a fire of reckless and outrageous malice before which all
counsels of prudence or policy were dissipated like wax in a furnace,
shouted loudly, “Wilt see our prisoners, Prince, i’ the old banquet
hall, to prove thyself an ass?”
“What prisoners?” cried the Prince, springing to his feet. “Hell’s
furies! I am weary of these dark equivocations and will know the
truth.”
“Why wilt thou rage so beastly?” said the King. “The man is drunk. No
more wild words.”
“Thou canst not daff me so. I will know the truth,” said La Fireez.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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