Аврам Дэвидсон - Peregrine - primus

Appledore slowly bowed his head without unsettling his mantle-cap again, and said, “Stranger, after a master storyteller, he who has but dull domestic anecdotes to impart had best be silent on the score. But by the sight of that oar on which you lean, O gallant Ulyxes (for such I take to be your name), I would gather that you have nevertheless full tired grown of the dolphintorn, the dong-tormented sea, and that you intend to travel so far inland that eventually you will chance upon a child who will say, ‘O mammy, and what is that oddy thing the stranger-man do tote upon his shoulder?’ and, she happening to give such an answer as it might be, ‘Babby dear, and peradventure ’tis a pesttle for to husk grain,’ what time you will settle there and never have to be reminded of ships again.

And the stranger allowed his mouth to open and his bearded jaw to drop and he narrowed his bloodshot eyes and answered, “You are right. Say, what are you, some kind of a wizard or something? Well, folks, time and tide and all that, and my blessing to you and all of you is, May a faithful, frigid wife ne’er be your portion, and may baleful signs ne’er be inscribed agin you on tablets of beech-wood. Farewell.”

These last words flared up in Peregrine’s mind like a gobbet of fat upon a hot ember, and for a full moment he was struck still with astonishment. Then, immediately, he turned upon his saddle and sought the stranger; then he with no little difficulty turned his mule and trotted back along the path. And then he began to call, again and again, “Ulyxes! O gallant Ulyxes! Stay! Return! And I will give you directions and letters of introduction to a fair and quiet land where no child knoweth what an oar may be—”

But all in vain, for the gallant wayfarer and seafarer had vanished like a pinch of salt in a cauldron of water. “And[said

Appledore] And ’tis strange, that, in more ways than only one, for as to his oar, O Aeons! how far he must have walked from the nearest, let us say, ‘The nearest’?, the nearest seaport or shore—and yet, I would swear that his oar was still damp and a smelled briny. Strange, strange, exceedingly strange: Yet stranger yet may yet befall us.”

As to what next befell them, what next befell them was a file of soldiery emerging from the bosky as the way curved, and with a crisp cry of, ‘‘Halt! In th’ Imperial Name!” several of them seized the bridles of the beasts, and the rest barred both advance and retreat. And a centurion stepped forth and demanded, “Proclaim. Proclaim! Proclaim!” Peregrine and Claud automatically inclined their heads and swept their hands towards Appledore. Who, sweeping off his hat and dismounting, began to proclaim.

He proclaimed Caesar Augustus, Most High and Most Serene, Imperial Majesty, Rightful and Only Lawful Wearer of the Purple, and Chaste Champion of the Sole True Faith, Conqueror of the Barbarians and Chastiser of False Doctrines, Sebastocrat and Autocrat and Emperor of the East, the West, and the Center —

Most of the soldiery nodded and nodded and looked impressed but the centurion was evidently in the mood for something a shade more precise, at least, for he demanded, “His Name! Proclaim his name!”

Appledore, nodding the nod and looking the look of one who was getting there, and would get there yet, if not interrupted, chanted, “Proclaimed be his Name in the Choir of the Angels! Proclaimed be his Name in the Choir of the Cherubim! Proclaimed be his Name in the Choir of the Seraphim, as was heard by the Holy Prophet, ‘Holy —’ ”

An especially pious sergeant-major at this point shouted, in a stentorian voice, “By the numbers! Genuflect! One!”

All the soldiers fell upon their right knees.

“ *— Holy— ”

“Two!”

All the soldiers fell upon their left knee as well.

“ — Holy”

“Three!”

All the soldiers crossed themselves.

“ ‘Lord of Hosts, Heaven and Earth—

Someone, evidently the commissary-major, walked up and down, checking out the mules and gear, and making swift notes on a pair of wax tablets with a stylus. And the voice of Appledore went on, “—Immortal, Omnipotent, Omniscient, Omnipresent—” the soldiers still crossing themselves. And on.

And on.

And on.

Eventually he had to pause to swallow, and to get his breath. The sergeant-major at once, and by the numbers, got his troop to its feet again. And the commissary-major handed over a handful of talleys to Peregrine, and said, “If your Honor will call upon the nearest Office of the Imperial Treasury, he can exchange these for parchment script which will entitle him to call upon the nearest office of the Imperial Bursary, where the script will be redeemed in lawfully coined coin of the Realm for the full value at current prices for all beasts and gear, said valuation may be appealed at the nearest office of the Imperial Legate by application and compurgation in triplicate and payment of the requisite fees if not satisfactory to Your Honor, Your Reverence’s beast is exempted by Imperial Rescript and as to Your Reverence’s gear I do not find any of it listed in the Nomenclature, so pass, friends, in the Emperor’s Name—”

Here he paused, as though trying to remember something, and Appledore promptly plugged the gap with, “Christus Invictus!”

“Christus Invictus!’’ said the commissary-major.

“Christus Invictus!’’ said the centurion. Appledore bowed and so, after only a second, did Peregrine and Claud.

“Pass!’’ said Appledore, to Peregrine, and started off at a fairly rapid clip, twisting the tail of the Child of Abraxas to prevent him from dallying.

“Pass!” said Peregrine to Claud, and started off at a pace no less rapid.

There was no one for Claud to say, “Pass!” to, and the sergeant-major was (he thought) eyeing him in a manner he liked less than not; so to the sergeant-major he said, “Christus Invictus!” and set off after Peregrine.

Behind him he heard the sergeant-major bellow, “By the numbers! One!”

“Christus!” They responded.

“Two!”

“Invictus!” and brought the butt-ends of their spears upon the ground with a crash.

“And rather there, than on my butt-end,” muttered Claud. The sound of the spears being brought to port-arms, followed by the troop reciting the Credo in unison as they counted off and dressed rank, or something, died away behind them.

“Well, we’re alive, anyway,” said Claud.

Appledore, a trifle nettled, said, “What do you mean, ‘anyway’? You’re a damn sight better off then merely being alive. If it hadn't been for my presence of mind and a memory like a slippery well, at least one of those spears might be up your butt-end and not merely on it, to say nothing of—as presently—being nowhere near it.”

“Yes, Uncle Appledore,” said Claud, contritely.

At this moment a curious thing happened to the way. It not only branched, but one fork of it twisted and turned, and crossed the other by a natural bridge, formed when a stream—now dry— had worn away the softer undersurface of a great rock. Peregrine said, “Hoy!” Appledore looked back.

“What‘Hoy!’?” he asked.

Peregrine gestured. “Forget what they told us back there?”

“Who, ‘Back there’? Which, ‘Back there’? The soldiers back there? The sailor back there?”

Peregrine said, “ ‘Right over left, left over right

Appledore stopped and scanned the topography. “By the God,” he conceded, “the boy is right. It does go ‘right over left.’ Well. And what about it? What lies thataway?”

“Austin lies thataway. That is, at least, Austin went thataway.”

“And what about that?”

Peregrine turned and began to climb.'“Nothing about that, to you, then. He isn’t your brother. My thanks to you, Doctor Appledore, Sagus Invictus, and I wish you good fortune on your own journey, wherever you go.”