Read Online A Midsummer Tempest by Poul Anderson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Poul Anderson
Tags: Science-Fiction
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Matilda, Hieronymus, Methodius, Claude, Gall—”
“Be silent, Puck,” Oberon commanded. “Show more solemnity.” To Rupert: “Forgive him, Prince. Unaging Faerie folk too oft blow rootless on the winds of time, and ripen not to wisdom like you mortals.”
“You flatter men too much, your Majesty,” Rupert said.
Titania’s hands fluttered white. “Enough!” she begged. “The cruel dawn comes on apace, when we’ll be powerless and thou pursued. Make haste!”
Oberon nodded; the plumes swayed and shimmered on his crown. “Indeed. But first I’d best explain to thee, Prince Rupert, why we lend our aid in this thy mortal quarrel. It is ours. We elves are spirits of the living world, the haunters of its virgin loneliness, the guardians, helpers, healers of all things in nature, whence we draw our nourishment.”
“You’re sometimes tricksy, sometimes terrible,” the man said.
“Why, so are earth and sea and sky and fire. Were there no wolves and foxes in the woods, the deer and conies soon would gnaw them bare.” Oberon paused before adding bleakly: “Unless man use his poisons, guns, and snares. That can bring order of a graveyard sort, until unpastured rankness chokes and burns. Best he show reverence for Mother Earth. The Old Ways help to keep him true in it, wherefore they win the blessing of the elves.”
“As long as this leads not to heathendom—”
“It need not. We’ve seen peoples and their faiths past counting come and come and go and go. From reindeer hunters in an age of stone to warriors in brazen chariots, we were familiars of the seed of Adam. When iron came, it was more difficult, for that’s a greedy fang against the wilds, and bears a cold and sullen force within which sears our kind if we do merely touch. But after restless years came balancing. The yeomen wanted luck upon their fields, and love and sons and grandsons in their homes, and warding off of demon, ghost, or witch—and in exchange for this gave us our due.”
Titania observed softly: “If fewer forests, we know richer fields; and in a maiden’s love or baby’s laugh, the wonder wells as from a secret spring.”
“The Christian faith, whatever else it changed, made small discord within that harmony,” Oberon went on. “As long as no one worshipped us as gods—a star-cold honor we have never sought—the priests did not denyour right to be, and let the people dwell at peace with us and with the land. Meanwhile, their bells rang sweet.”
“They did but change the names—” Puck muttered, “the names—the names.”
Both Rupert and Oberon frowned at him, and the king continued hastily: “When Henry Eighth cast off the rule of Rome, to us ’twas naught but mortal politics. The Church of England did not persecute us, nor care to end the Old Ways in the folk. But then—”
“The Puritans arose,” said Rupert, for Oberon faltered at the uttering.
“They did.” The king lifted a fist. No matter his height and handsomeness, it looked strangely frail, almost translucent to moonbeams and encroaching shadows. “That wintry creed where only hell knows warmth; where rites which interceded once for man with Mystery, and comforted, are quelled; where he is set against the living world, for he is now forbidden to revere it in custom, feast, or staying of his hand; where open merriment’s condemned as vice and harmless foolery as foolishness; where love of man and woman is obscene—there’s Faerie’s and Old England’s foe and woe!”
Jennifer gulped, clenched fists, stiffened herself, and piped timidly, “Oh, nay, sir, that’s not altogether true—” None seemed to hear her. Rupert stood stone-massive and moveless; Oberon and Titania kept their eldritch eyes on him; the elven lights danced blue, gold, purple, green, ruby, giving glimpses of tiny frightened faces.
Will Fairweather squeezed her elbow. Puck sidled to the fringe of the glade and around it, until he hunkered near her feet.
Meanwhile
“Be silent, Puck,” Oberon commanded. “Show more solemnity.” To Rupert: “Forgive him, Prince. Unaging Faerie folk too oft blow rootless on the winds of time, and ripen not to wisdom like you mortals.”
“You flatter men too much, your Majesty,” Rupert said.
Titania’s hands fluttered white. “Enough!” she begged. “The cruel dawn comes on apace, when we’ll be powerless and thou pursued. Make haste!”
Oberon nodded; the plumes swayed and shimmered on his crown. “Indeed. But first I’d best explain to thee, Prince Rupert, why we lend our aid in this thy mortal quarrel. It is ours. We elves are spirits of the living world, the haunters of its virgin loneliness, the guardians, helpers, healers of all things in nature, whence we draw our nourishment.”
“You’re sometimes tricksy, sometimes terrible,” the man said.
“Why, so are earth and sea and sky and fire. Were there no wolves and foxes in the woods, the deer and conies soon would gnaw them bare.” Oberon paused before adding bleakly: “Unless man use his poisons, guns, and snares. That can bring order of a graveyard sort, until unpastured rankness chokes and burns. Best he show reverence for Mother Earth. The Old Ways help to keep him true in it, wherefore they win the blessing of the elves.”
“As long as this leads not to heathendom—”
“It need not. We’ve seen peoples and their faiths past counting come and come and go and go. From reindeer hunters in an age of stone to warriors in brazen chariots, we were familiars of the seed of Adam. When iron came, it was more difficult, for that’s a greedy fang against the wilds, and bears a cold and sullen force within which sears our kind if we do merely touch. But after restless years came balancing. The yeomen wanted luck upon their fields, and love and sons and grandsons in their homes, and warding off of demon, ghost, or witch—and in exchange for this gave us our due.”
Titania observed softly: “If fewer forests, we know richer fields; and in a maiden’s love or baby’s laugh, the wonder wells as from a secret spring.”
“The Christian faith, whatever else it changed, made small discord within that harmony,” Oberon went on. “As long as no one worshipped us as gods—a star-cold honor we have never sought—the priests did not denyour right to be, and let the people dwell at peace with us and with the land. Meanwhile, their bells rang sweet.”
“They did but change the names—” Puck muttered, “the names—the names.”
Both Rupert and Oberon frowned at him, and the king continued hastily: “When Henry Eighth cast off the rule of Rome, to us ’twas naught but mortal politics. The Church of England did not persecute us, nor care to end the Old Ways in the folk. But then—”
“The Puritans arose,” said Rupert, for Oberon faltered at the uttering.
“They did.” The king lifted a fist. No matter his height and handsomeness, it looked strangely frail, almost translucent to moonbeams and encroaching shadows. “That wintry creed where only hell knows warmth; where rites which interceded once for man with Mystery, and comforted, are quelled; where he is set against the living world, for he is now forbidden to revere it in custom, feast, or staying of his hand; where open merriment’s condemned as vice and harmless foolery as foolishness; where love of man and woman is obscene—there’s Faerie’s and Old England’s foe and woe!”
Jennifer gulped, clenched fists, stiffened herself, and piped timidly, “Oh, nay, sir, that’s not altogether true—” None seemed to hear her. Rupert stood stone-massive and moveless; Oberon and Titania kept their eldritch eyes on him; the elven lights danced blue, gold, purple, green, ruby, giving glimpses of tiny frightened faces.
Will Fairweather squeezed her elbow. Puck sidled to the fringe of the glade and around it, until he hunkered near her feet.
Meanwhile
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