Gloriana

recite:

“So for almost seven days they were engag’d,

Weapon for weapon, gauge for flaunted gauge,

Each hero of equal skill and might

Fought all from morning until night

Until upon the seventh day there came,

To cause these lords their noble sport to still,

A noise so shrill: A carriage built of flame!”

Across the shivering bridge rolled the sphere, the dolphin-dwarves dragging it to the far side of the island and then jumping into the lake to swim for their lives to the shore, while the knights, in pretence of great awe, fell upon their knees, raised their hands, dropped their weapons and stared at the carriage, which was now silent. Master Florestan Wallis clambered to his feet, forced open a reluctant helm, waved his arms and cried to the crowd:

What magical terror can this be

Come to fright my fellow knights and me!”

(his own lines-he disdained to be supplied by Wheldrake) while Sir Amadis Cornfield, as the Knight of the Silver Charm, sang out:

“This is Leviathan of which our legends speak,

And ’pon our Firm Isle shall great destruction wreak!”

(and Wheldrake sneered from the other side of the bridge and shrugged in an effort to show the uncaring crowd that he was not the author of this poor stuff). But one must indulge a Minister of the Crown, he thought, even though that Minister be feeble-minded, sexless, full of much learning and no knowledge, bombastic, possessed of an ear which could not tell a nightingale’s song from a lapdog’s fart…

Wheldrake watched through weary eyes as the two sides of the carriage fell apart to reveal an enormous green serpent, all of papier mache, with glittering scales, rolling eyes, lolling tongue and clashing teeth, one of Master Tolcharde’s best creations. That the crowd found this by far the grandest entertainment so far was obvious from its noise. A score or so of maidens, in flimsy linen, came past Wheldrake now. The garlanded nymphs were dancers supplied by Master Josias Priest, who simpered nearby, urging the girls on. They were all young, their figures as yet not quite fully defined, boyish, attractively hermaphrodite, led by one of the most beautiful creatures Wheldrake had ever seen. (Mithras! What an exquisite, youthful tyrant she would make!) Now behind them came a faun, with huge, wicked, lustful eyes, capering and blowing upon a reed pipe, while from another pavilion, hidden from the crowd, music began to play, to represent the faun’s ethereal voice.

The green serpent moved free of the sphere, towards the knights, who lined themselves before it, raising their weapons, preparing for the fray.

Then, a further transformation, as the serpent seemed to shrivel and collapse, to become a lovely barge bearing a beautiful giantess seated upon a coral throne. Six and a half feet tall, magnificent, auburn-haired, radiating virtue, a pointed silver crown upon her veiled head, flaming with jewels enough to blind those who beheld her, she raised a pearly wand and smiled upon the dazzled heroes, while her maidens danced about them, covering them with flowers, and the fauns leapt and twisted, seeming to fill the air with his silvery music as the maidens sweetly sang:

“With golden flutes and harps we hail our Queen,

The wonderful Urganda, the Wise Unseen,

Now doth she beg ye gentle knights your war to cease

And, laying down your arms, to swear enduring peace.

For there’s no greater sorceress in all our wide Globe’s span,

Than this grand Monarch, whom all Heroes woo,

Whose voice and heart are ever true, this Queen of Fairy Land!”

And Wheldrake glared at Florestan Wallis, who, with more flourishes and crow-caws, called out:

My peers! This is the noblest Sovereign

To whom we all swear fealty and love.

By fighting thus we shame her name!

Farewell war-eagle-Welcome dove!”

Then music and maidens continued with the song:

“As Man’s ignorance a hideous form can oft create,

And sick imaginings small lies inflate,

Thus too can truth and beauty wear a fierce disguise

So that her enemies shall all be hard appris’d

That though the kindlier virtues are encouraged,

As in that distant noble land of Albion,

Urganda’s wrath can burn full strong, and fill the hearts of evil men with dread!”

Master Florestan Wallis’s eyes were upon the faun, who seemed to fascinate him, so that there was a pause before he recalled his next contortion:

“But madam, how shall we choose our Champion,

To rule above the others and make all One,

To order spirit as Time doth order Space,

If not by test of martial arms and grace?”

Wheldrake leaned heavily on the bridge and glanced towards the pavilion from which, very soon, Lord Bramandil Rhoone must ride, in his role.

The Queen spoke (Wallis’s lines, for diplomacy’s sake):

“Noble-blooded paladins, there’s one I’ll give to you

Who is my chosen Champion, his peers are few,

Yet from no landed castle does this hero come,

Though noble is his soul and of vices he has none.

For years his only weapon was a shepherd’s hook,

The sky his roof, the fluttering fire his book.

His name ye will not find in Herald’s Rolls,

But carved upon a beam of some poor peasant’s fold,

The lowly pasture was this brave knight’s domain

And yet I’ll warrant that ye all do know his name

This goodly Peasant Knight, so free of sin-

My great lords-bow the knee to Palmerin!”

They were bending already, but Wheldrake, looking towards Lord Rhoone’s pavilion, was astonished to see a small, unmounted figure leaving it. The figure was clad in faded black, with a wide-brimmed black hat, a couple of