The Hyacinth, the Witch and the Cormorant

The Hyacinth entered the river mouth, returning at last from a long voyage in the South Seas. She sailed past the castle and on up the narrowing river with the tide, her rainbow colours glowing brightly in the sun, which was setting on the starboard side.

dawn treader

‘Look thee well!” cried Prince Halwell to the gracious couple that reclined behind him upon cushions on the fo’c’sle deck. Ahead, beyond a bend in the river, a magnificent red tower stood proudly on a hill above the marshland. Krake alighted on Prince Halwell’s shoulder and wagging his slender head vigorously at the pair, said, “That’s the town of Totness.” (You see, he was a Talking Cormorant.)

The Duke of Salisbury came forward and stood at Halwell’s side; a noble hunter returning home with his bride from the Southern Isles. His face was grave as he gazed north toward the tower, which drew gradually nearer as the oars of the Paying Clients pulled the Hyacinth up the winding navigable part of the river. He turned and spoke to his Duchess, Rebekah the Wise. “My Lady, this worthy town is held by a witch who has caused it to rain every Saturday when the people hold their market. Worse: fauns, dryads, nymphs and satyrs, and even gnomes, have been forced into slavery. And Talking Animals are made to wait at table for the witch and her crew.” Krake hissed in a way that left the others in no doubt how he felt about this last piece of information.

Rebekah joined them at the bow rail with a strange light in her brown eyes. “My Lord, let us together with our brother free the good Totnesians, human and otherwise, from this blight. Yet let us be not hasty in condemning all witches: the wide world holds good witches and bad, and indeed some that are both good and bad.”

Krake said, “You humans make things complicated. Bad witches: yes, undoubtedly. Good witches: well, possibly.  Show me a good witch, and I will believe you. But a witch who is both good and bad? There is no such thing.” And because Cormorants do not enjoy philosophical discourse, he slid off Prince Halwell’s shoulder and into the river before anyone could answer, to fish for the royal supper.

It grew dusk, and the royals went below to take oars, so that three of the Paying Clients might stroll on deck and rest their weary arms and core muscles. For they were of a generation who knew all about teamwork, and indeed, leadership.

As the Hyacinth nosed her way alongside Totness Dock, lamps twinkled from cottages newly built on the Plains, drained marshes where Halwell and the Duke had first met fighting alongside one another in battle with the Telmarines, many years ago.

Several Water Voles (larger than the non-talking kind) leapt from the deck and made the ropes fast, and the royal party disembarked. The Prince offered his hand to Rebekah, but she had already leapt from the side of the Hyacinth and alighted softly on her feet, upon a bale of wool waiting for export on the now-friendly Telmarine ships. “Now,” she said, “where does this witch lurk, she who enslaves the free and causes it to rain on market day?”

“We will find her in a cave at the foot of the hill,” answered Halwell. “She is usually surrounded by many courtiers, but they are unlikely to offer us much of a battle as they are advanced in years, and slumberous from much feasting. However the lady is powerful in her own right, and it is she whom we should either fear or slay, for she is said to enchant the hearts of men and women so that they cannot see the evil she represents. We must be mindful that she is in service of the Dark Powers, however she may seem to the contrary.”

And so the three ventured forth in the twilight, picking their way between sedge tussocks and tall reeds. Now and then a snipe or woodcock that had been roosting in the marshes flapped up in a panic from under their feet, and the Duke was quick to snare them for the pot (they were not Talking Birds, you understand). Krake flew with the party, sometimes diving into a dark inland creek for a tasty morsel.

Presently they all saw a lighted cave-mouth between some crack-willows. As they drew nearer they heard music from within: the melodious sound of a harp, and the voice of a lady, singing sweetly. Suddenly several elderly gentlemen, their large bodies dressed in fine merchants’ clothes, stepped from behind the trees and surrounded the small group, making aggressive harrumphing sounds.

Prince Halwell drew his sword, and Krake got ready with his sharp beak and strong wings. But Salisbury motioned to them to lower their weapons. “I would not give thee battle,” said he to the courtiers, “for thy great age stays my hand. But by the Lion’s Mane, we will see the Witch.”

At those words Rebekah raised her lithe arms and undulated her body, making a long, low sound, stranger than any they had heard as they crossed the marsh. One by one the gentlemen fell asleep where they stood, enchanted by wild magick, and on their round faces they wore blissful smiles.

As the royal party entered the cave, they saw a tall fair woman in a flowing dress, seated upon a cushion. She looked up swiftly from her harp. For a moment they saw an expression of mingled fear, hatred, and anger, but this was instantly replaced with a charming smile. “Why, I have visitors!” trilled the lady. “Come and warm yourselves beside my fire.”

witch

The Duchess, Duke and Prince entered cautiously, and spread themselves out around the cave. Krake, they knew, guarded the entrance.

“My Lady,” began Prince Halwell, “we have come to request that you release the Talking Animals, and the people of the streams and the woods, from their bondage.”  (Somehow, now that he looked upon her face, he no longer had any thought of slaying.)

She threw back her head and gave a merry laugh, and they all saw a bright blue jewel gleaming against her white throat in the firelight. “But the creatures are not slaves! They serve us willingly, because they wish to do so.” She threw some kind of powder into the centre of the fire, and began strumming again. “ Why, it brings them joy to wait upon our person. Do you not believe us? Would you have them return to their former miserable lives, trying to grub a living from the land?”

“This sounds reasonable,” conceded Salisbury. “You may indeed speak truth.” “Aye,” agreed Halwell, “I too am of a mind to believe it.” Rebekah stared at the Witch through the flames, as though she were trying very hard to remain awake.

“You must sit, and eat,” urged the Witch, waving fingers with very long nails towards a steaming pot beside her. The three sat; Rebekah last. A monkey dressed in a scarlet waistcoat emerged from a shadowy corner of the cave, and began ladling rich stew into locally made hand-crafted ceramic bowls. The three thought they had never smelt anything so delicious, and accepted spoons from the monkey’s proffered paw.

With that, Krake flew in like a black arrow. “Enough! There’s no good in this witch. Can’t you see, she wants to turn you all into slaves as well?” They gazed blankly at him, and the Witch resumed her beguiling song.

Krake landed upon a cross-pole above the fire, spread his enormous shaggy wings and deposited a copious load of guano onto the flames, which steamed, and went out. A dreadful-smelling smoke filled the cave. The Duke and Duchess, freed of their enchantment, leapt forward and grabbed the Witch by her forearms. Prince Halwell seized her harp. Suddenly she no longer appeared beautiful, but quite ordinary, smaller than before, and rather afraid.

“We have discovered the source of your enchantment, Witch,” said the King sternly. “Now that Krake has put out your fire and stopped your song, the Totnesians are free once more, and market days henceforth shall be both sunny and dry, and free from all but gentle breezes.”

The Witch looked nervously about her, no doubt wondering why her courtiers didn’t come. “I have turned them into statues of sugar,” said Rebekah. “I will release them from their enchantment only if you agree to go far from these lands, and never return.”

“My Lady, you are tender indeed,” said Prince Halwell. “Yet I do not trust her. How if she enslaves some other place, because we were merciful and let her go?”

“I say lock her up and throw away the key,” said the Krake.

But the Duchess said, “No, it is biblical nonsense to suggest that her suffering would somehow atone for the suffering she has inflicted. It is enough that the enchantment is over.”

The Duke looked at the Witch. “What say you?”

The Witch, upon being addressed, regained some of her former height, though not all. “This prince perceives aright,” she said in a very different, plain voice. “If you set me free, the Dark Powers will indeed compel me to enslave some other fair town such as Strood, and in my heart I would rather not do so.” She turned to Rebekah. “Good Queen, I see you have the power of enchantment, and I see also that you are just. I beg you: transform me into a seal, that I may live out my days in and around the mouth of this iconic river. I offer my pledge that if danger should approach from the sea I will swim upstream and warn friend Krake, that a defence of the town may be mustered in good time.”

The three humans looked at one another and nodded. Krake merely shrugged his black shoulders, which they took as agreement.

“It shall be done,” said the Prince. “For your remaining days you will pay for the disservice you have done Totness, by protecting the townsfolk from invasion.”

She bowed her head. “I am truly sorry for misusing these fairest of folks; therefore it will be both honour and penance to serve them thus.”

And so Rebekah spread out her slender arms and began to make a sound, this time more complicated, seeming to hold many rich tones at once. Gradually the Witch turned a mottled black, and her shape transformed until she had become a rotund, whiskered seal. She hauled herself out of the cave, past the courtiers’ statues, and into a nearby creek. A few bubbles rose to the surface, and after that she was never seen in Totness again (though more than once in the years that followed, Krake came to warn the townspeople of strange ships that were approaching, though they  turned out to be friendly).

“Well, that’s that,” said Prince Halwell, as he and the Duke clapped one another on the back. “And so, good Krake,” said Salisbury, “do you still aver that witches cannot be both good and bad?”

Krake shook out his sleek black feathers all over, as if to dispel the smell of smoke. “Have it your own way,” he said. “But I’ll be sure never to cross my Lady,” he said, his round eyes darting towards Rebekah, who was now releasing the courtiers. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some fish to catch.”

And he flapped away into the starry night.

corm3

 

Advertisements