When the myrmidons returned, they bore a great fortune in gold, which I had them place in a large pile before me. We also captured many vats of sweet-oil, which is used in the manufacture of certain metals.
Most of the town was still standing, and, since I did not wish to go through the streets taking down the bindings on every house and hall, I ordered my troops to spread some of the sweet-oil upon the buildings, then to light great fires, so the town might be utterly destroyed.
Many people had escaped the assault and fled into the forest, but when I saw this, I called, “Ho! None of that!” I sent groups of myrmidons to encircle the refugees. The myrmidons quickly rounded them all up, then dragged them back inside the town walls, where they tossed them into the inferno. Some of these folk were nobles, and they pleaded for mercy, claiming they were closely related to the region’s ruler. That was nothing to me, though, and they met the same fate as the rest.
The town burned for three days and nights, like a great bonfire. It was a jolly sight, I will confess, and it gave me a very slight, short-lived relief from my Sad Mood.
When the flames had subsided, I had the myrmidons divide up the treasure and place it in their packs. We took the remaining vats of sweet-oil too, for I saw it made a fine weapon. I marched my myrmidons southwest, along a great road which connected Sudbury with Enek Tireal. I could hear the singing of birds as we marched, and in my Sad Mood this was abhorrent to me. I therefore commanded the myrmidons to throw rocks into the trees to hit such birds as they might see. Also, I told them to sing songs of war as they marched, so the town ahead of us might hear our sound and be terrified.
There were travellers on the road. Most turned hurriedly and fled when they saw my advancing army, but some came fearlessly towards us, whereupon my myrmidons seized them and brought them to me, saying, “What shall we do with these innocent travellers?” Alas, I was still gripped by my Sad Mood, and I said “Hang them at once,” and although the poor wretches begged and protested they had done nothing wrong, my heart was hard to their pleas, and I watched without pity as they were put to death.
Upon reaching Enek Tireal, I found the town had received word of my approaching army and had closed its gates and set myrmidons upon the walls. These preparations on the part of the citizens of Enek Tireal, while they might seem reasonable precautions to take in the face of such a mighty force, were the very worst thing they could have done for my Sad Mood, for they made me feel I was hated and reviled. Therefore, still under that mood’s terrible influence, I commanded my myrmidons to do to that town what they had already done to Sudbury, which is to say, remove the valuables and use sweet-oil to destroy it utterly, leaving no trace. Once this was done, we marched away from the remains of the town, travelling at a leisurely and dejected pace through the forest for many weeks.
One day, while I was relaxing under a crab apple tree, still very much afflicted by my Sad Mood, my myrmidons brought a young man before me who, they said, had been found hiding a short distance away. I interrogated him thoroughly, and, before he died, he admitted he was acting as a spy for various officials of Manitario. These officials, he admitted, wanted to know the size of my army, so they might send a much larger force against me.
Unfortunately for my enemies, my Sad Mood had not diminished my cunning in any way. In fact, if anything, my mood focused my intelligence upon the task at hand.
Without an hour’s delay, then, I ordered my myrmidons to march south. We marched for six days, passing, and destroying, many towns and villages on the way, as well as killing cattle, pigs, sheep, goats, geese, and any other livestock we found in those places. I shudder now to think of the ferocity of my Sad Mood.
Then, having left a terrible path of destruction in my wake, I ordered my myrmidons to turn westward once more, but to go with speed and subtlety. I knew my enemies would find the southward path and would think I had continued south through the forests there, whereas in fact I was proceeding west.
We continued west for a week, travelling with great stealth and discretion, although, according to the dictates of my Sad Mood, I was obliged to destroy five more villages, and hang several groups of merchant-travellers.
I thought I had fooled my enemies very well with my cunning stratagem, but, in my naive sadness, I little realized the extent of the treachery which was in the hearts of my unseen opponents. They laid a trap for me which was very wicked, for they knew, although I was afflicted with a great sadness, I was still virtuous, trusting and innocent, and I would not anticipate the depraved nature of their monstrous plot.
I will tell you of their trap now. It is a very gripping tale, and you will very likely sweat with fear as you read it.
As we marched west, I came, with my army, to the town of Grim. You may laugh at this name, for I too laughed when I heard it, yet it would have been better I had heeded the divine warning being sent to me by this word.
I approached the town without fear, my army at my back. My scouts had told me the town was small, with no more than two thousand persons. There were forests around, and mountains behind. The buildings were small and neat, with bright colours and many ornamental gardens. It was a pretty place, although, naturally, in my Sad Mood, I could think only of how it would look once it had been committed to the flames.
Since the town gates were open, I said to myself, “First I will have myself a good luncheon, then I will destroy the place.”
As we passed through the town gates, though, we received such a welcome as I had not ever received before, with cheering and music, and with men and women throwing themselves down before me to kiss my feet. They showed no fear of me, as folk from other towns and cities had done, but instead showed only joy.
They set foods before me—even as I marched through the streets—and threw flowers, and placed garlands upon my myrmidons and my bodyguards.
I was pleased at the reception. No, I must be truthful, I was more than pleased—I was deeply moved, and at once I felt the ice melt from my heart, as my Sad Mood began to weaken. I said to myself, “Perhaps I will not burn this town immediately. Rather, I will wait a day or two and enjoy the fruits of the place.”
So, I remained there, and whenever I wandered the streets the people cheered, and all about me were joyful faces. When I asked several townspeople the reason for their rejoicing, they said it was because, with my holy presence, I brought good fortune to their little town, at which words I made a holy gesture, applying a blessing of luck upon the crowd, and upon seeing this they cheered still more.
I struggled terribly with my Sad Mood during those days, for a part of me did not wish to see this charming town destroyed. I told myself I was planning a special destruction for this town, and I ordered my myrmidons to gather great piles of wood from the forest, which they placed against the walls.
While this work was going on, an old woman came up to me and asked me if I planned to burn the town and kill its occupants.
I said, “Yes, it is very likely I will.”
I expected her to plead and beg for mercy then, but she did not. Instead she said, “Then we are truly blessed.”
Naturally, I asked her to explain herself.
“It is inevitable every one of us must eventually die,” she said. “Only the manner of the death is uncertain. It seems to me that being put to death by a revered holy man is a very godly death, and one to be grateful for.”
I was astonished at her great faith in me, and, the grip which my Sad Mood had upon me loosened still further.
Now, for a time I remained cautious, and although I was soothed by these people, still I went about the town with my bodyguards around me. After a time, though, I began to feel foolish, and not a little cowardly, to go so well protected, so I bade my myrmidons set up camp some distance from the town, and I reduced the size of my escort, keeping only five Behemoths around me, a number which later fell to two, and then to none at all, for there
seemed to be no need of it. Neither did any harm come to me from this action, for the people of Grim were all very peaceable and tame, and even without my Behemoths I felt no fear of them. In this, however, I was deceived, for, as you may well suppose, there was false dealing being done in that town.
I was one day sitting upon the steps around a statue which is in the marketplace of Grim, eating a delicacy called summer-and-winter. This is a type of fruit-ice made from fresh strawberries and snow. The snow is collected in the winter, then stored in caves until the summer months when the strawberries are out.
In any case, as I sat, my eye fell upon a very lovely young girl, no more than sixteen years of age, I should say. She was gazing at me, and I saw tears upon her cheeks. I said to her, “What troubles you?” to which she replied, “Archbishop, I wish in my heart to beg a favour of you, yet I know you have not the time to help a common person such as I am.”
“Nonsense,” said I. “Though you may be small and insignificant, yet I am not so proud that I will not hear your plea.”
Upon hearing these gentle words of mine, she threw herself prostrate before me, saying, “Archbishop, my little baby son has died not two hours ago. They say the words of a holy man have powers to heal the sick and to raise the dead. Please, will you say these words to my dead son and raise him up to life.”
I was touched to hear this request, and I said to the girl, “Your faith in me is very great, and, if God wishes it, will be rewarded. Lead me to your son.”
Thereupon, she led me a short way, talking of her dear son and the untimely death he had met, until we came to a small house. She said her son’s body was in the cellar, so I opened the trapdoor and climbed the ladder. But when I reached the bottom, a man seized me from behind, while another threw a liquid in my face.
I struggled very bravely, but the stench from the liquid was so powerful I found myself rendered insensible, and I think I remained in this state for some minutes. When I regained my faculties once more, I found myself lying upon the floor. Iron bracelets had been placed about my wrists, and these were fastened, by means of a chain eight feet or so in length, to a plate set in the floor.
The two men who had attacked me were standing before me, and I recognized them now as two officials of the town, named Midana and Reckdohl. I will describe them now, so you might imagine the scene with greater accuracy.
Midana was the older of the two, and he had thick white hair, which he wore rolled up in bush-bunches. This, indeed, was what had made me suspicious of him from the first time I laid eyes on him, for it is an arrogant thing for an older man to wear his hair in such a flamboyant way.
The other man, Reckdohl, was a few years younger than me. He had a weak chin, which is a sure sign of a treacherous disposition, particularly when its owner tries to hide the fact by growing a beard upon it as Reckdohl had done. Also, he had a high voice, which sounded like that of a woman.
I noticed both these men were wearing white silk sashes which I had never seen them wearing before. The significance of this was not lost on me, for I had seen men and women wearing similar sashes when I was in the bishopa’s court. It indicated they were trusted agents of some great lord.
I knew then I had fallen into the hands of a powerful enemy and my situation was very dire. I looked down at my boot, to see if my throwing-razor was still there, but it was not. They had stolen it from me while I was unconscious.
As soon as he saw I was awake, Midana came over to me and helped me to my feet. Then he said, “Did you, Yreth, lay waste to the town of Sudbury, the holy shrine of Enek Tireal, and the towns of Chan, Indril, Diadril and Sleck?”
I thought to myself, “How do I answer him? Do I shout insults at the fellow as he deserves, or perhaps kick at him?” Then I thought, “No, Yreth, cast your dice with care. In such situations as this, it is best to be humble and polite, and to answer all questions with precision and honesty.”
So I replied, “I did not lay waste to those places. The task was done by a group of myrmidons.”
Midana said, “Were these myrmidons under your command?”
I replied, “In one sense, yes.”
Then Reckdohl asked, “In what sense do you mean?”
“In the ordinary sense,” I said, and I gave a very sweet and genuine smile to each of them, to show them I was a man of great charity.
Reckdohl asked me then, in his woman’s voice, “By whose order did you carry out these destructions?”
“Not by the order of a person,” I said, “but by the order of a thing.”
“What thing?”
“A Sad Mood,” I said. Then I told them all about my Sad Mood and how terribly it had afflicted me. I had hoped they would show sympathy for me then; however, they did not, for they were callous, insensitive fellows. In fact, they did not even believe my story of the Sad Mood.
Midana said, “We know you are an agent of some great prince. Tell us in whose name you carried out these terrible atrocities, or we will extract the information by means of torture.”
I thought about this for a time, then I said, “My actions were motivated by my Sad Mood, as I have said. But since you ask me which great prince commanded me to carry out these actions, I will say it is the same prince who placed the Sad Mood within my soul.”
They grew excited then, and said, “Which prince is this? What is his name?”
“Why, the Prince of Heaven,” I replied. “The one true God.”
They did not care overmuch for this answer, and they struck me about the face, then started to chastise me, in a very tiresome manner, for the wicked deeds I had done, and the many close friends and relatives they had lost in the towns and cities I had destroyed, and what a terrible thing it was, and so on.
Now, they spoke as if they were shocked and alarmed I could have caused so many deaths, so they might make themselves seem very virtuous and noble. However, I quickly perceived the true direction of their desires.
I said, “If you seek gold in compensation for your losses, you will be disappointed. What wealth I have, I have earned, and you may be sure my myrmidons will guard it well.”
One of the men said, “I would not sully myself by touching your gold, for it is tainted by death.”
I laughed at his hypocritical lies, and said, “I am pleased to hear that, my friend, for you may be sure you will never touch it. And do not think you will take it by stealth, either, for I am not such a fool as to hoard it all in one place. Rather, I have divided the gold into numerous portions, which each myrmidon may carry easily in his pack.”
I think I was too wordy for their liking, because they then slapped my face three more times, and struck me upon the back with a cane. But I did not give in to the pain. Instead, I just repeated the words, “I shall not give you my gold! I shall not give you my gold!” over and over, which infuriated them, because they saw they would never overcome my great determination, and they pummelled me with their fists, while I, all too aware that a violent response might bring about my execution, was forced to endure this cruel punishment.
Then a plan entered my head. I said, “If you let me send word to my myrmidons, I think, perhaps, I might see my way to making you a gift of a small portion of my treasures. You may use the wealth as you see fit.”
Midana pulled at my hair and said, “I have told you I care nothing for your gold. Now, tell us who commands you.”
I said, “I will tell you, if you first let me send a message to my myrmidons.”
Then Midana said, in a rude tone, “You must think me a very green leaf if you think I will allow you to send a message to your myrmidons. You will just have your forces rescue you and kill us all.”
“That is not so,” I said. And I thought to myself, “No, I would not have them kill us all, just the two of you.”
You will notice how, even in my adversity, I remained honest. That is a very ethical thin
g, for they say honesty is the highest of all the virtues.
These days, you often hear bandit priests telling of how they have escaped some calamity or other through the telling of a convincing, well performed lie. For myself, though, I would not lie, even though it might save my life. It is much better to die as an honest man than to live as a liar, and somebody should take those bandit priests who boast they have told such clever lies, then slit their throats, so everyone may see how far their lies get them in the end.
In any case, I then said to Midana, “Do not fear my motives. My wishes are very simple. In my message, I will give the myrmidons my good regards.” And truly I would have done this, although I would also have told them where I was and ordered them to rescue me, but I chose not to tell this part to my captors.
I went on to say, “Because my feelings for my myrmidons are of a strong and very affectionate nature, I would have to insist you do not embarrass me by reading the message I send, but you may be sure nothing but good will come of it.” Which is to say, good for me, in so much as it would bring about my rescue and their well deserved deaths!
Still, despite all my clever words, they would not let me send a message, and they questioned me for several hours more, pretending they wanted to know who had sent me, but secretly trying to discover how they might get my gold for themselves. When they finally realized they were wasting their time, they departed, leaving me chained up in the cellar.
While they were upstairs, they talked between themselves. I have good ears, though, and I heard everything they said, even though they spoke in hushed tones.
Reckdohl said, “Let us kill him. He deserves to die.”
Midana replied, “No no. That would be terrible bad luck. He is, after all, an archbishop, and only the prince himself may put him to death. And even the prince may only kill this man with his silver sword of office. To do otherwise would offend the archbishop’s God, who is said to be very fearsome.”
Then I heard Reckdohl say, “Well then, let us torture him, so his life becomes a living death.”
The Ultimate Stonemage: A Modest Autobiography Page 14