How the Duke Corsus Thought it Proper to Commit an Errand of State Unto His Daughter: And How she Prospered Therein.

SRIVA fared swiftly to her father’s closet, and finding her lady mother sewing in her chair, nodding toward sleep, two candles at her left and right, she said, “My lady mother, there’s a queen’s crown waits the plucking. ’Twill drop into the foreign woman’s lap if thou and my father bestir you not. Where is he? Still i’ the banquet house? Thou or I must fetch him on the instant.”

“Fie!” cried Zenambria. “How thou’st startled me! Fall somewhat into a slower speech, my girl. With such wild sudden talk I know not what thou meanest nor what’s the matter.”

But Sriva answered, “Matter of state. Thou goest not? Good, then I fetch him. Thou shalt hear all anon, mother;” and so turned towards the door. Nor might all her mother’s crying out upon the scandal of their so returning to the banquet long past the hour of the women’s withdrawal turn her from this. So that the Lady Zenambria, seeing her so wilful, thought it less evil to go herself; and so went, and in awhile returned with Corsus.

Corsus sat in his great chair over against his lady wife, while his daughter told her tale.

“Twice and thrice,” said she, “they passed me by, as near as I stand to thee, O my father, she leaning most familiarly on the arm of her curled philosopher. ’Twas plain they had never a thought that any was by to overhear them. She said so and so;” and therewith Sriva told all that was spoke by the Lady Prezmyra as to an expedition to Demonland, and as to her purposed speaking with the King, and as to her design that Corund should be his general for that sailing, and letters sealed on the morrow for his straight recall from Orpish.

The Duke listened unmoved, breathing heavily, leaning heavily forward, his elbow on his knees, one great fat hand twisting and pushing back the sparse gray growth of his moustachios. His eyes shifted with sullen glance about the chamber, and his blabber cheeks, scarlet from the feast, flushed to a deeper hue.

Zenambria said, “Alas, and did not I tell thee long ago, my lord, that Corund did ill to wed with a young wife? And thence cometh now that shame that was but to be looked for. It is pity indeed of so goodly a man, now past his prime age, she should so play at fast and loose with his honour, and be at the far end of the world. Indeed and indeed, I hope he will revenge it on her at his coming home. For sure I am, Corund is too high-minded to buy advancement at so shameful a price.”

“Thy talk, wife,” said Corsus, “showeth long hair and a short wit. In brief, thou art a fool.”

He was silent for a space, then raised his gaze to Sriva, where she rested, her back to the massive table, half standing, half sitting, a dainty jewel-besparkled hand planted on the table’s edge at her either side, her arms like delicate white pillars supporting that fair frame. Somewhat his dull eye brightened, resting on her. “Come hither,” he said, “on my knee: so.”

When she was seated, “’Tis a brave gown,” said he, “thou wearest to-night, my pretty pug. Red, for a sanguine humour.” His great arm gave her a back, and his hand, huge as a platter, lay like a buckler beneath her breast. “Thou smell’st passing sweet.”

’Tis malabathrum in the leaf,” answered she.

“I’m glad it likes thee, my lord,” said Zenambria. “My woman still protesteth that such, being boiled with wine, yieldeth a perfume that passeth all other.”

Corsus still looked on Sriva. After a while he asked, “What madest thou on the terrace i’ the dark, ha?”

She looked down, saying, “It was Laxus prayed me meet him there.”

“Hum!” said Corsus. “’Tis strange then he should await thee this hour gone by in the paved alley of the privy court.”

“He did mistake me,” said Sriva. “And well is he served, for such neglect.”

“So. And thou turnest politician to-night, my little puss-cat?” said Corsus. “And thou smellest an expedition to Demonland? ’Tis like enow. But methinks the King will send Corinius.”

“Corinius?” said Sriva. “It is not thought so. ’Tis Corund must have it, if thou push not the matter to a decision with the King to-night, O my father, ere my lady fox be private with him to-morrow.”

“Bah!” said Corsus. “Thou art but a girl, and knowest nought. She hath not the full blood nor the resolution to carry it thus. No, ’tis not Corund stands i’ the light, it is Corinius. It is therefore the King withheld from him Pixyland, which was his due, and tossed the bauble to Laxus.”

“Why, ’tis a monstrous thing,” said Zenambria, “if Corinius shall have Demonland, which surely much surpasseth this crown of Pixyland. Shall this novice have all the meat, and thou, because thou art old, have nought but the bones and the parings?”

“Hold thy tongue, mistress,” said Corsus, looking upon her as one looketh on a sour mixture. “Why hadst not the wit to angle for him for thy daughter?”

“Truly, husband, I’m sorry for it,” said Zenambria.

The Lady Sriva laughed, placing her arm about her father’s bullock-neck and playing with his whiskers. “Content thee,” she said, “my lady mother. I have my choice, and that is very certain, of these and of all other in Carc?. And now I bethink me on the Lord Corinius, why, there’s a proper man indeed: weareth a shaven lip too, which, as experienced opinion shall tell thee, far exceedeth your nasty moustachios.”

“Well,” said Corsus, kissing her, “howe’er it shape, I’ll to the King to-night to move my matter with him. Meanwhile, madam,” he said to Zenambria, “I’ll have thee take thy chamber straight. Bolt well the door, and for more safety I will lock it myself o’ the outer side. There’s much mirth toward to-night, and I’d not have these staggering drunken swads offend thee, as full well might befall, whiles I am on mine errand of state.”

Zenambria bade him good-night, and would have taken her daughter with her, but Corsus said nay to this, saying, “I’ll see her safe bestowed.”

When they were alone, and the Lady Zenambria locked away in her chamber, Corsus took forth from an oaken cupboard a great silver flagon and two chased goblets. These he brimmed with a sparkling yellow wine from the flagon and made Sriva drink with him not once only but twice, emptying each time her goblet. Then he drew up his chair and sinking heavily into it folded his arms upon the table and buried his head upon them.

Sriva paced back and forth, impatient at her father’s strange posture and silence. Surely the wine lighted riot in her veins; surely in that silent room came back to her Corinius’s kisses hot upon her mouth, the strength of his arms like bands of bronze holding her embraced. Midnight tolled. Her bones seemed to melt within her as she bethought of her promise, due in an hour.

“Father,” said she at last, “midnight hath stricken. Wilt thou not go ere it be too late?”

The Duke raised his face and looked at her. He answered “No.” “No,” he said again, “where’s the profit? I wax old, my daughter, and must wither. The world is to the young. To Corinius; to Laxus; to thee. But most of all to Corund, who if a be old yet hath his mess of sons, and mightiest of all his wife, to be his ladder to climb thrones withal.”

“But thou saidst but now —” said Sriva.

“Ay, when thy mammy was by. She cometh to her second childhood before her time, so as to a child I speak to her. Corund did ill to wed with a young wife, ha? Phrut! Is not this the very bulwark and rampire of his fortune? Didst ever see a fellow so spurted up in a moment? My secretary when I managed the old wars against the Ghouls, and now climbed clean over me, that am yet nine year his elder. Called king, forsooth, and like to be ta’en soon (under the King) for Dominus fac totum, throughout all the land if a play this woman as a should. Will not the King, for such payment as she intends, give Demonland upon Impland and all the world beside? Hell’s dignity, that would I, and ’twere offered me.”

He stood up, reaching unsteadily for the wine jug. Furtively he watched his daughter, shifting his gaze ever as her eye met his.

“Corund,” said he, pouring out some wine, “would split his sides for laughter to hear thy mother’s prim-mouthed brabble: he that hath enjoined upon his wife, there’s ne’er a doubt on’t, this very errand, and if he visit it on her at his coming home ’twill but be with hotter love and gratitude for that she wins him in our despite. Trust me, ’tis not every lady of quality shall find favour with a King.”

The casement stood open, and while they stood without speech sounds of a lute trembled upward from the court below, and a man’s voice; soft and deep, singing this song:

Hornes to the bull,

Hooves to the steede,

To little hayres

Light feete for speed,

And unto lions she giveth tethe

A-gaping dangerouslye.

Fishes to swim,

And birds to flye,

And men to judge

And reeson why,

She teacheth. Yet for womankind

None of these thinges hath she.

For women beautie

She hath made

Their onely shielde

Their onely blade.

O’er sword and fire they triumph stille,

Soe they but beautious be.

The Lady Sriva knew it was Laxus singing to her chamber window. Her blood beat wildly, the spirit of enterprise winging her imagination not toward him, nor yet Corinius, but into paths strangely and perilously inviting, undreamed of until now. The Duke her father came towards her, thrusting the chairs from his way, and saying, “Corund and his mess of sons! Corund and his young Queen! If he conjure with the white rose, why not thou and I with the red? It hath as fair a look, the devil damn me else, and savoureth as excellent sweet perfume.”

She stared at him big-eyed, with blushing cheeks. He took her hands in his.

“Shall this outland woman,” he said, “and her sallow-checked gallant still ruffle it over us? Long beards, whether they be white or black, are too huge a blemish in our eye, methinks. The thing seemeth not supportable, that this precise madam with her foreign fashions — Dost fear to stand i’ the field against her?”

Sriva put her forehead on his shoulder and said, scarce to be heard, “And it come to that, I’ll show thee.”

“It must be now,” said Corsus. “Prezmyra, thou hast told me, seeketh audience betimes i’ the morning. Women are best at night-time, too.”

“If Laxus should hear thee!” she said.

He answered, “Tush, he need never blame thee, even if he knew on’t, and we can manage that. Thy silly mother prated but now of honour. ’Tis but a school-name; and if ’twere other, tell me whence springeth the fount of honour if not from the King of Kings? If he receive thee, then art thou honoured, and all they that have to do with thee. I am yet to learn dishonour lieth on that man or woman whom the King doth honour.”

She laughed, turning from him toward the window, her hands still held in his. “Foh, thou hast given me a strong potion! and I think that swayeth me more than thy many arguments, O my father, which to say truth I cannot well remember because I did not much believe.”

Duke Corsus took her by the shoulders. His face overlooked her by a little, for she was not tall of build. “By the Gods,” he said, “’tis a stronger sweet scent of the red rose to make a great man drunk withal than of the white, though that be a bigger flower.” And he said, “Why not, for a game, for a madcap jest? A mantle and hood, a mask if thou wilt, and my ring to prove thee mine ambassador. I’ll attend thee through the court-yard to the foot o’ the stairs.”

She said nothing, smiling at him as she turned for him to put the great velvet mantle about her shoulders.

“Ha,” said he, “’tis well seen a daughter is worth ten sons.”

In the meanwhile Gorice the King sate in his private chamber writing at a parchment spread before him on the table of polished marmolite. A silver lamp burned at his left elbow. The window stood open to the night. The King had laid aside his crown, that sparkled darkly in the shadow below the lamp. He put down his pen and read again what he bad writ, in manner following:

Fram Me, Gorice the Twelft, Greate Kyng of Wychlande and of Ympelande and of Daemonlande and of al kyngdomes the sonne dothe spread hys bemes over, unto Corsus My servaunte: Thys is to signifye to the that thoue shalt with all convenient spede repaire with a suffycyaunt strengthe of menne and schyppes to Daemonlande, bycause that untowarde and traytorly cattell that doe there inhabyt are to fele by the the sharpnes of My correctioun. I w............