Elric Swords and Roses - Michael Moorcock [27]
Elric shuddered, glad to see Prince Gaynor gone. “Yet I fear him as I fear nothing else.”
“As you fear yourself, maybe, sir?” And then Wheldrake looked with regret upon the face of his new friend. “I beg you, sir, I did not wish to seem forward.”
“You are too intelligent for me, Master Wheldrake. Your poet’s eye is perhaps sharper than I would like.”
“Random instinct, sir, I assure you. I understand nothing and say everything. That’s my doom, sir! Not as grand as some, no doubt, but it gets me in and out of trouble in roughly equal proportions.”
And with that Master Wheldrake assures himself of a dead fire, breaks down his spit and buries it with regret, keeps hold of his snare, which he tucks in his pocket with a volume which has lost its binding to reveal some vulgar marbling, throws his frock-coat over his shoulder and plunges through the wheat in Elric’s wake. “Did I recite my verse epic, sir, concerning the love and death of Sir Tancred and Lady Mary? In the form of the Northumberland ballad, which was the first poetry I ever heard. The family estates were remote, but I was not lonely there.”
His voice chirruping and trilling the cadences of a primitive dirge, the red-combed scrivener skipped and scampered to keep up with the tall albino.
Four hours later, they reached the broad, slow-flowing river and could see, rising on picturesque cliffs above the water, the town Elric sought. Meanwhile Wheldrake declaimed the ballad’s last resounding couplets and seemed as relieved as Elric that his composition was concluded.
The town appeared to have been carved by fanciful master masons from the glinting limestone of the cliffs and was reached by a fairly narrow track, evidently of artificial construction in places, which wound above the rocks and white water some distance below, rising gradually before it blended with the town’s chief street to wind again between tall, many-storeyed dwellings and warehouses, fanciful public buildings and statuary, topiary and elaborate flower-gardens to become lost among a maze of other thoroughfares and alleys which lay below an ancient castle, itself covered in vines and flowering creepers, dominating both the town and the thirteen-arched bridge which spanned the river at its narrowest point and crossed to a smaller settlement beyond where, evidently, the wealthy citizens had built their pale villas.
The town had an air of contented prosperity and Elric became optimistic as he saw it lacked any real walls and clearly had not needed to defend itself against aggressors for many years. Now a few local people, in bright, much-embroidered clothing, very different in style from Elric’s or, indeed, Wheldrake’s, greeted them cheerfully and openly, like men and women who know considerable security and are used to strangers.
“If they welcomed Gaynor, Prince Elric,” said Wheldrake, “then I would guess we would not seem especially alien to them! This place has a Frenchified air to it, reminding me of certain settlements along the Loire, though it lacks the characteristic cathedral. Is there any clue, do you perceive, to their form of religion?”
“Perhaps they have none,” said Elric. “I have heard of such races.” But clearly Wheldrake disbelieved him.
“Even the French have religion!”
The road took them past the first houses, perched on rocks and terraces above them and all displaying the richest flower-gardens Elric remembered. A scent came off them, mingling with the faint smells of paint and cooking, and both travelers found themselves relaxing, smiling at those who hailed them, until Elric stopped for a moment and enquired of a young woman in a white and red smock the name of the town.
“Why, this is Agnesh-Val, sir. And across the river is Agnesh-Nal. How came you here, gentlemen? Was your boat wrecked at the Forli rapid? You should go to the Distressed Travelers House in Fivegroat Lane, just below Salt Pie Alley. They’ll feed you there, at least. Do you carry the medal of the Insurer’s Guild?”
“I regret not, madam.”
“Sadly, then, you will be entitled only to our hospitality.