King of The World's Edge Page 4

  “Remark, worthy voyager,” said Myrdhinn, “how^ the side fins point out the points of west and east, and be guided by them. And guard this little fish that it be not lost, for I prize it far more than its actual value would indicate, it having been given to me by a yellow-skinned wanderer who by its aid had guided himself across the broad plains of Scythia, to the island of Samothrace where we met.

  “Also, fear not the days to come, since Brandon has written that beyond this Sea of Calms lies a f air island inhabited by a wise people, and among them we may expect to find shelter.”

  We rowed, the sun and stars returned, our food gave out entirely; we drank our bellies full and rowed again, stayed by that thin cheer, until one day the winds came and bore us on, and all of us fell on our knees and thanked our various gods (Christian and pagan together); for there were now but very few still strong enough to move an oar.

  I repeat, bring large stores of food, lest your men be in the state we now found ourselves, debating whether or no one of us poor hungry folk should die that the rest might eat. Myrdhinn saved us from that sin. In this broad watery desert he found us food!

  I might mention here that in all our long journey we saw none of the sea monsters of which fables have so much to tell, though we did see strange sights that filled us with dread.

  One night our lookout came below, squealing and white with fear, crying out that the sea was blazing and we were lost. Hurrying to look, we were startled to find that all around us the water was glowing and shimmering with light. But it was not fire, my Emperor, and it was harmless, though I cannot explain the mystery.

  One must expect odd things if one travels. Not everything strange is dangerous, and who but cowards would hold back from great adventure because of odd, unexplainable events?

  We took it for a portent, but it was not—unless indeed it foretold good, for no evil happened us. Fear not this trivial oddity, native to these seas, but boldly disregard it when found, and press onward. We passed from it unscathed.

  We saw dolphins and mightier fish also, but none so huge as the unbelievable fish Jasconye, which Brandon describes as being the hugest fish in all the world, and writes that upon its back he and all his men celebrated the Feast of the Resurrection, not knowing but that they stood upon an island, until they lit fire to cook some victual, and their island sank and left them all swimming!

  This I take to be a tale for children. Disregard it. We saw none so huge, though we were companied for some distance by a convoy of very large creatures who sported around us, watching us while they sent high spurts of water and froth into the air from their nostrils as they breathed. They harmed us not, being curious only, though by their very size and weight they might prove dangerous if maddened. Be warned in this matter! After this we met another land of fish, very evilly disposed toward man, and we learned about it as fol-lows:

  KiniaFch, one of our bravest, though without any Roman blood, being purely Cymric, had been wounded severely in our affray with the rebels. While we had food he lived and languished, becoming no better and in fact failing slightly each day, until in the end, when our rations grew scanty and coarse, he died.

  We buried him in the only way we could. His Cymric comrades keened over him, gashing themselves with then- knives. Myrdhinn prepared him for burial, marking his winding-sheet not only with a Christian cross, but also with a sickle which he painted upon the cloth in gold, while beside it he pinned a scrap of mistletoe, these things being symbols of the old Druidic faith never yet completely destroyed in the dark fastnesses of Cambrian hills.

  So prepared for any future, we slid the body over the side, and witnessed a horrid sight. Scarce had it touched the water when a fierce fish seized upon it in a welter of foam, and fought for the fragments with other of its kin which instantly appeared.

  We slew several with javelin casts, but finding these victims were speedily set upon, we ceased, for others smelling the blood in the water came and followed us. They kept in our wake for days, until, as I have written, we were dying for want of food. Then Myrdhinn came to our help.

  We had tried to kill one of these fish before, for food, but when wounded each was rent apart by its companions. Now Myrdhinn bade us try again, saying that this time we would not fail.

  He formed a length of rope into a circle, coated it with greenish paste from a small pot, gave three of us heavy mittens and warned us not to touch the rope with our bodies. Then, telling us what to do, he dangled his foot overside and pretended to slip.

  As one of the man-eaters came to the surface we flung the rope around him. When it struck the water, the surface bubbled and fumed, hissing as though touched by hot iron. The fish Sung itself about in a frenzy, but could no more escape than from a stone wall built about it. Then it stiffened out and lay belly upward, rocking in the enclosed space, while its kindred nosed about outside.

  Before they could break in, though the rope was now sinking, we had hooks in the carcass and dragged it in, and it was not long before we were dining upon tasty steaks. So we escaped from the Sea of Calms, and feeding thriftily upon our fish-meat (for Myrdhinn warned us this feat was not magic and could not be repeated) we sailed on.

  The skin of this great man-eating fish was hard to cut, and Guthlac spoke for it, shaping the thickest part, while moist, into a breastplate. This he studded with the bosses from an old worn-out piece of armor we found for him, and took also the buckles and straps.

  With more of the hide, he covered a wooden buckler, and with small pieces made scabbards for sword and seaxe, binding also his ax-haft with narrow strips; so when this hide dried and shrank tight in the sun, Guthlac was possessor of as fine equipment as any on board.

  And indeed, many of us were envious of him, for this thick, knobby hide proved to be nigh as tough as metal, though we could not then foresee the dire result of this day’s work of his, which was to bring sorrow to me in later years.

  5 Brandon’s Isle

  Close to a week later, a violent wind in company with thunder and lightning and hissing sheets of rain overtook us, and until dark and after we raced along in its grip. But it passed us before dawn, and as we lay rocking in the following swell, many miles from where the storm had found us, we in some curiosity peered ahead in the half-light of early morning, aided by far lightning flashes.

  Every man of us knew a strange feeling, a sensation of an event about to occur, something pleasant or horrid, we could not tell which—but something which sent before it a warning of its coming.

  Then the wind shifted, blowing toward us, and plainly was wafted the sweet hot smell of lush, rotting vegetation, so we knew then and one whispered to another, “Land! Land!” and the other, “What land, mate?” and the other, “What land, mate?” for Brandon told of many isles, some with friendly folk and some where dwelt enchanters to be feared, and some where worshipful priests dwelt, solitarily praising God, and clothed only in a weave of their long gray hair.

  But, even as we whispered among us, a river of fire poured down the sky with a sound as though Heaven’s floor were split wide open, and the lookout in the maintop raised his hands in the glare, crying “Brandon’s Isle!” in a wild exulting shout, and again all was dark and we groped as though struck blind.

  In that instant we knew that the Scot adventurer’s tale was true, at least in part, for the little isles with the enchanters, either friendly or inimical, were all tiny and low in the sea, but this which reared itself before us was mighty land indeed, high and rugged, nor could we tell then in that brief flash if it be island or no.

  And I may well say here that I think the stories of enchanters were creations of fancy, inserted into a description of travel too dry otherwise to appeal to Brandon’s legend-loving folk.

  So disregard anything you may be told in Hibernia or Britain of sorcery in these western seas. Vanishing isles there may be, but we saw them not; the folk are simple and friendly and the fruit of the isles i
s good and nourishing, like blood of life itself to hungry mariners, salted to a very pickle, as we were that night.

  At this time, not knowing what lay before us, we took soundings, dropped anchor and waited for dawn, all very quietly after that first burst of joy, that we might see what was to be seen before our presence near this strange land was suspected by its dwellers.

  As we lay there, slowly rocking on the long swells, listening to the low murmur of the surf upon that darkness-hidden strand, the sky slowly reddening above us, the smell of wood burning came over the water on the seaward-trending breeze; and this, increasing, told us more plainly than any words could that the land was peopled.

  We stacked javelins and arrows in their places, saw to our bowstrings, cranked back the arrow engines, brought down the short wicked arms of the two tor-menta and loaded each with a jagged rock from the ballast—all this in quiet so far as possible and we thought unheard, until the light suddenly strengthened and we saw that strand and upon it the figure of a man peering out to sea, brought there perchance by the strange sounds of creaking cordage or of ratchet and pawl clinking as we cranked one or another of the engines.

  That he saw us we could not doubt, for at this moment the red rim of the sun burst up out of the sea and flooded us and him with light. A breathless mo-ment we stared at him and he at us over the intervening rollers, until I hailed him, throwing my sword arm high with empty hand and outflung palm to show we came as friends.

  Then, startled, he fled inland among the thick growth of trees and bushes, shouting as he went, and presently returned with a company of men bearing spears and clubs, each set with barbs very jagged and cruel to see. Before them marched an old white-haired man clad in a white robe beautifully ornamented around the hem and throat with painted figures, these at our distance impossible to distinguish clearly. He carried a green flowering branch and nothing else, so that the meaning was plain—we might have either peace or war!

  Now these folk stopped a little distance out of the greenery, while the old mfm came on alone to the very edge of the water, and here he paused and called out to us in a clear pleasant voice that seemed the very essence of peaceful living and happy carefree ways.

  Myrdhinn climbed up on the bulwark and tried several languages, gesturing at the sun, the sea, the sky and land, while for his part the other old man answered in possibly more than one dialect, but no common ground could be found for conversation, till at last each gave up his efforts and stood smiling at the other in humorous bewilderment across the intervening waters. Then Myrdhinn said:

  “Put the boat overside. I am going ashore.”

  And this we did against our wills, fearing treachery, but Myrdhinn’s mind was made up and his, will was firm. So ashore he went, and we could see their arms waving as they gesticulated and strove to make themselves understood.

  At length the old man pointed inland in silent invitation, and Myrdhinn nodded, and all in an instant, it seemed, the twain had turned and were gone from our sight, with many of the armed men following, though some were left. These were all big, strong fellows well able, it seemed to us, to cast a spear out to where we lay; so unobtrusively we trained the arrow engine, loaded with a full sheaf of arrows, upon them and swung also the port catapult in their direction. We were now almost certain that, despite the rolling of the vessel, we could drop the boulder among them. Then we grasped our bows behind the bulwarks—and waited.

  The sun rose high and higher, until at almost midday Myrdhinn and the other old man came back with their following of curious spearmen.

  “Lay down your arms, my friends!” he shouted. “Come ashore to me on Brandon’s Isle, for this is truly the land we seek. Leave a guard of fifty and come, you others.”

  While he was speaking, the old islander harangued his followers to somewhat similar effect, for each stepped forward and threw down his weapon to form a pile on the sand, after which they moved back some twenty feet and showed us their empty hands.

  All this time, since daybreak, there had been a rolling mutter of small drums, neither loud nor very far inland. This threatening sound now stopped and the hush that followed pressed down upon our accustomed ears, as might a palpable noise.

  In this deathly quiet, I gave low commands and our other boat was lowered and sent ashore, where some leaped out and joined Myrdhinn and others brought back the two boats, plying between ship and shore until all of us were there with the exception of the guards, the tormenta men and the arrow-engineers.

  “For,” I warned, “these strangers may meditate treachery; wherefore keep sharp watch and be ready to cover our retreat if need be.”

  So, once lined in formation upon the sands, at my signal we stepped forward three paces together and cast down our bows, our shortswords, even our eating-daggers, and stood facing the islanders’ array across the two piles of weapons—two unarmed companies, each with its holy man in front

  Then Myrdhinn and the old priest stepped forward and kissed each other, and as they did so, the drumming burst out with a great fury. We stared at one another, almost tenfpted to reach for our weapons, wondering if this meant attack—and the bushes behind those facing us swayed and parted and through them came a large crowd of women, grass and flower clad, and many naked children—all smiling very prettily, chattering among themselves with merry laughter, while they proffered us gifts of flowers and fruits.

  Very acceptable was this fruit to our salt-soaked palates, and marvelously good, though strange in taste and form. And thus the islanders took us to their hearts and we made a home with them for a month, a happy interlude in our stern lives.

  So we rested, some making progress in the language, with a fair tutor to conjugate the amatory verbs; some hunting among the interior hills or fishing in the bay; while we all took turns in working a few hours each day on the Prydwen, which we had careened in a shallow cove, to scrape away the sea growths and recalk.

  We stepped a new artemon and replaced some warped planking and two charred ribs amidships, making the ship ready for sea, though we had no thought of sailing so soon as we were actually to do.

  One evening a hunting-party came back with a strange tale of an ancient man whom they had met upon the island’s farther coast and whom they had known for white (these folk being rather golden in color), for he had spoken to them in the language of the Scoti.

  One of the Cambrians was familiar with this tongue, having been prisoner and slave beyond the Hibernian sea; so he answered and learned that we were truly upon Brandon’s Isle, for the oldster had been in company with Brandon upon the first voyage of that venturesome monk, and, liking the country well, he had taken a native wife and remained when the others returned to their own land.

  Nor, thinking the matter over as we sailed in quest of him around the coast, could I blame him in my heart, for these island ladies, though thoroughly barbarian, are very lovely and dignified both in form and manner, and anyone might well do worse than remain in this Elysium, should occasion offer. But that was not for us. All unknowing, we sailed on toward our destiny—and war, excitement and change were waiting for us in the person of that one old man.

  Arriving, we found him so aged that he was dying slowly from his load of years. However, his eye was bright and his tongue nimble through the joy of our coming, when in his age he had given up all hope and almost all thought of seeing a face from his native lands.

  In the cool darkness of his grass house, Myrdhinn sat and talked with nun alone; for the excitement of seeing so many of us fair drove him frantic with joy and at first he could not speak for the choking in his throat, but sat looking at us with slow tears trickling into his waist-long beard. But to Myrdhinn he could talk and make himself understood, though the Scoti words came slow and he fumbled among his thoughts to say the thing he would.

  And a tale he had to tell us!

  It seems (and now this is the part that directly concerns us, and you, my Emperor) that
Brandon did not know there were still more lands westward of those he found, and Fergus the Scot had not learned of this for a long time. Then a party of young men looking for adventure had invited him with them on a plundering trip to a nearby island, and they in their log boats were blown far to the northwest, and out of their path, by one of the quickly coming storms of wind, common to these seas, called by the natives Hurakan, from the name of the god who they believe inspires the disturbance.

  Finally they found land and explored it, sailing both north and south, but not penetrating far inland; for this it seemed to them was more than an island, and what people or monsters might dwell there they could not know. Before they left this part of the land they found that a warlike folk held the coast, for they were surprised one night as they slept beneath their boats and many killed; so that, although they had left in a score of craft, the survivors came home again in three, without loot or captive women, though they had a prisoner of those who had attacked them. I saw the skin, stuffed, of this being, and whether it is human or no, I hesitate to say. The skin is scaly and slippery with slime, the creature (in the living state) spending much time in the sea. The eyes are round rather than ovid, and lashless, the nostrils flat and inconspicuous as though meant to hold themselves in against the water. Below a broad lipless mouth filled with pointed fangs, on either side of the scaly neck, are marks very similar to the gills of fishes, but they neither open nor close, so that if they were once water-dwellers entirely, · it must have been very long ago.

  The legs are bandy, and in back, at the end of a ridged backbone, is a bony projection, varying with the age of the creature, from six to ten inches in length, so that when the individual sits, it must needs scoop a hole in the earth to accommodate this immovable tail or rest itself upon a log or stone.