Avram Davidson - The Scarlet Fig - Or, Slowly Through a Land of Stone, Book Three of the Vergil Magus Series

Breathed the sturdy-small-and-compact Knight, “Yes … yes ….”

Soberly, almost (it might be fancied) slightly sadly, slowly said the Magus Vergil, “Now, could it be that of such vast continents not a single syllable would have reached our ears from the Strabo and the Herodote? from even Magno Homero, the chief of geographers as of occymists — From that waste of ocean has come to us not a single ship — not a sole wayfarer or stranger, cast upon our coasts by strength of storm or missenchance — no alien tree wandering slowly upon vasty seas, uproot by tempest on some distant shore—”

That member of the Knightly Order, so small and yet so full of power that might he be called a full fist of a man, a pygme-measure of a man, listened as becomes a man of sense and sound of mind; he listened to the logic which he recognized he could not refute, nor neither did he … as becomes a man of vertue … regret that he could not. Only he cast his eyes a-back down the wynde towards the Great Piazza where stood that grand globe, and askit he one sole question: “The birds, then … whence? Wherefore … birds?”

A whiff of burning wooden coals and cooking meat came wafting and wifting up the wynde, the realities of life intruding, as ever they would, upon the conjectures and the wherefores. Asked, in the manner of the rhetors, Vergil, “Whence that far-, far-northern goose-bird whose eggs no man hath seen? From out the depth and bosom of the sea, out from a barnacle, whence. Whence the coral and the pearl? Out of the shells of the sea, whence . Out from the sea itself came those marvel-birds. In an instant, called up by gales of wind. Why? As a warning against unreasonable lust, so say philosophers. Say others —” here he smiled; the dwarve knew that thus the mage included himself, by that modest oblique term; “— Say tothers: nay, not so. That the immense swarm was a lusus natura ? Yes, of course: intended what to teach? For teach it did, as clearly as any clamoring bronze from high Dodona’s oaken shaws where vatic cauldrons moan mysterious tide. Himself the August Caesar was persuaded that, just as immense swarms of birds swept in from the west to the affliction of the empery, just so immense swarms of men were soon to be hasting in from the east, to the affliction of the empery. And that wise our troops and those of our confœderates and our allies posted to the border marches, so that …”

Small Ser Minnimus nodded slowly. He knew which that followed. So that when the great Hordes of Gogmagog, of whom no man Roman had ever heard, swept in from the fathomless east, pushing the Huns ahead of them and driving before their advance the Sarmatians and the Scythians like leaves before the winds: the Imperial forces were more than ready, and drove down upon them from three sides (some say: from four) and caught them in snares and in fowlers’ nets, and captured so many that the slave markets were nigh glutted: and of those they captured not, many indeed they clubbed to death …

And as Vergil was slowly ceasing to speak, a man came slowly down the wynde, dressed in the manner of a country-dweller, a small-to-medium landowner who came perhaps twice a month to the city, perhaps once a month to Brindusy and once a month to Naples; such a man of rather past the middle of his age came along the street, slowly and bemused and looking down. That a small throng of people were gathered in the street rather surprised but did not very much startle or bother him. He a bit lifted his head and, as it was Vergil whom he from happenstance faced, to Vergil he said, “Pray pardon, my dan, I am going up into this house here …”

Not showing his great surprise, Vergil stood, and stood aside, and said, “Surely, my Ser. But I fear this house is closed —”

Said the country laird, just a bittle smiling, and very, very civilly, “It will open for me, my dan. I thank —” A look of bewilderment commenced to crawl over his face, was succeeded by dismay. He looked at the wooden hatchment, at the signs. Caught his breath. Swallowed (they could hear) his spittle. Said: “I fear I’ve made a silly mistake. This is the wrong house. I seek the home of the brothers Lars and Ares Gibbeus, how can I have thought this was their house? where I am always welcome,” his eyes ran every which way about the ruinous building, sought the eyes of the others. “I was their guest here but a few weeks ago, two brothers? do you know their names? Gibbeus? Lars and Ares? one is marked by the smallpox and tother is not … is … not … this is not their house ….” All around the fellow looked. Slowly his body began to tremble. Then slightly to twitch. “A house plaistered in red plaster, well kept up, my sers. And,” here his face slightly brightened, “the steps are excellent steps, no mere flagstones, but a-made with Ganadian granite —” Vergil did but a very small gesture. Of a sudden it was quite plain that the country gentleman now observed the granite steps, now observed the faded and crumbled red plaster. So clear was his alarm that not one spoke to break the silence.

The silence was broken by a grizzled Æthiop with the customary jewel in his ear. He led a good roan stone-horse along; few would care to ride, mounted, in such a confined and curving way. “Good day, good Roman people,” he said, looking at the huddle of folk with politely controlled interest. And slowed his step. Ser Minnimus perhaps compared the roan to his own pony.

It was Clemens who spoke up. With a gesture — “What do you know about this house, my ras?” asked he.

By just the slightest change of countenance and motion of head the Æthiop indicated that the use of the word (in his own land) of respect had not been missed. “This house. Ah. Well. My cousin-german lives but small way from here, and I pass by month by month to see him. A few fresh thing from country I bring him — lettuce, dormice, comb-of-honey. Sausage. Snail.” He made a slightly deprecatory movement of his mouth. “ You cannot get good snail in city market. This house?” He gave it a brief look. “It has been empty as long as I remember, and that is many year. Many year. I have heard that it did belong to a pair of brethren who departed to fight upon the marches of the eastern border in the invasion long ago. That great invasion. Ah, their names. I do not remember of their names.” A bit, next, his face brightened. “But I recall of this I heard: That one was marked with the smallpox. And one was not.” He gazed calmly upon them all. The country patron sat very abruptly upon the second step, gave a gesture as might be seen within a drama acted on a stage, of one abandoning himself to wrack and wreck upon the deck of a driven ship.

Buried his face in one hand.

Vergil, not really knowing anything precisely appropriate to ask, asked, “Where is Ser Minnimus Rufus?”

A man with a bald head and a crowded face, of the sort who are supposed to answer small questions in every small community, said, “Ser Minnimus has gone back down the wynde to the Great Piazza, whereunto one assumes he has gone to look again upon the great globe. Whereunto he was a much attracted, Ser Minnimus.” And fell silent and wiped his hands upon his tunical (of a dark bottle-green, with but a very few black patches).

The Æ thiop, who had seemed about to walk off, he and his horse, now paused and declared, with a most obliging air, “Ah, that great globe. Oh that great globe of stone with the map of all the world graved upon of it. One is assured, good Roman people, that it is well-known to afford room and space for a man in armor mounted upon a mount.” And he gazed upon them with a benign look, as one well-satisfied of having told folks something of much interest of which they had never heard before.