Read Online Votan and Other Novels (FANTASY MASTERWORKS) by John James - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: John James
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wolves. I licked the dew from the leaves. There were no clouds. I struggled with the chain, and brought blood. I could not reach the key. When the sun was high, I risked a pull at the water bottle. It was thenthat I saw the men. They stood at the edge of the wood, and they danced in my eyes so that I could not count them. I tried to shout, but I had no voice. They were not there any more.
Then it was dark again, and light again. I do not know how often the dark and the light came. Or how often the wolves danced. After a while there was no water in the bottles. Only the dew and sometimes the rain. And the pain. I hung forward on the chain in pain. My head was an expanding flame, my mouth a sea of dust. And there was hunger, the worst hunger of all, for I had food that I dare not touch, the salt sausage.
There were creatures in the tree that crawled on the leaves, the slimy and hairy and creeping things that no man may eat. Yet I think that I tried to eat, and I think I retched. There were squirrels and birds, yet not one that came within reach of my spear. Somewhere in the tree were bees. And there was something in the tree I never saw, though I heard him slither in the branches and once I felt his long body trail across my thighs. Yet he was a comfort, for how should any snake, python or not, harm a man vowed to Apollo?
The wolves danced, and the rain drove through my cloak, and the sun glared down on the empty land. And I saw.
How far can you see from six feet up in an oak tree, on the edge of a forest in the plain? I tell you, I saw from sea to sea and from beginning to end. And the ghosts of the dead may haunt you, and the dread of them bring you to madness; but the ghosts of them who are doomed yet to be born – I tell you what I know, I tell you nothing that I have not seen, and the dread of that is too much for any mortal man. Look at my hair and know how dread it was.
In the east there is nothing. Nothing at all. There are more men than ever you could dream of. But every man looks exactly like his neighbour, and every generation is exactly like every other generation. Nor is there ever any change or ever anything new.
But to the west, the whole land is a pot of porridge and the walls of the Empire are the sides of the pot. Every bubble in the porridge is a nation and nations are born as the bubbles burst. In the end the pot will boil over. For it is not the pot only that boils but the very air.
I told you that in those days it was warmer than it is now, and you thought that it was the delusion of an old man trying to keep his bones from freezing.
But I know that Apollo himself comes and goes as he pleases, and that sometimes he withdraws the Chariot of the Sun from the earth, and sometimes comes nearer, and between the warmest and the coldest times may be hundreds of years.
From six feet up in the oak tree, while the snake moved about me and above me and behind me, I saw the cold and the heat come and go, age on age, from the tree to the ocean, and beyond the ocean. For there are lands beyond the ocean. As I hung in my chains, Apollo let me see in my pain that he is even now withdrawing from the earth. As the earth got colder, the porridge boiled over and swamped into the Empire. And as porridge which boils over is burnt and charred and changed into ash, so the barbarians who will boil over into the Empire will be changed and transmuted and charred into new nations, neither Roman nor Barbarian. And every one of these nations that is changed will be led by the sons of Votan, who lead only because they are Votan-born. And the Votan-born will spread over the whole earth, and whatever people they conquer they will turn into something like themselves.
The colder it gets, and the farther Apollo goes from the earth, the more the nations of the Votan-born will turn to the sea, and go out to face the storms of the ocean, and the terrors that lie beyond the ocean. But when Apollo approaches nearer the earth, then they
Then it was dark again, and light again. I do not know how often the dark and the light came. Or how often the wolves danced. After a while there was no water in the bottles. Only the dew and sometimes the rain. And the pain. I hung forward on the chain in pain. My head was an expanding flame, my mouth a sea of dust. And there was hunger, the worst hunger of all, for I had food that I dare not touch, the salt sausage.
There were creatures in the tree that crawled on the leaves, the slimy and hairy and creeping things that no man may eat. Yet I think that I tried to eat, and I think I retched. There were squirrels and birds, yet not one that came within reach of my spear. Somewhere in the tree were bees. And there was something in the tree I never saw, though I heard him slither in the branches and once I felt his long body trail across my thighs. Yet he was a comfort, for how should any snake, python or not, harm a man vowed to Apollo?
The wolves danced, and the rain drove through my cloak, and the sun glared down on the empty land. And I saw.
How far can you see from six feet up in an oak tree, on the edge of a forest in the plain? I tell you, I saw from sea to sea and from beginning to end. And the ghosts of the dead may haunt you, and the dread of them bring you to madness; but the ghosts of them who are doomed yet to be born – I tell you what I know, I tell you nothing that I have not seen, and the dread of that is too much for any mortal man. Look at my hair and know how dread it was.
In the east there is nothing. Nothing at all. There are more men than ever you could dream of. But every man looks exactly like his neighbour, and every generation is exactly like every other generation. Nor is there ever any change or ever anything new.
But to the west, the whole land is a pot of porridge and the walls of the Empire are the sides of the pot. Every bubble in the porridge is a nation and nations are born as the bubbles burst. In the end the pot will boil over. For it is not the pot only that boils but the very air.
I told you that in those days it was warmer than it is now, and you thought that it was the delusion of an old man trying to keep his bones from freezing.
But I know that Apollo himself comes and goes as he pleases, and that sometimes he withdraws the Chariot of the Sun from the earth, and sometimes comes nearer, and between the warmest and the coldest times may be hundreds of years.
From six feet up in the oak tree, while the snake moved about me and above me and behind me, I saw the cold and the heat come and go, age on age, from the tree to the ocean, and beyond the ocean. For there are lands beyond the ocean. As I hung in my chains, Apollo let me see in my pain that he is even now withdrawing from the earth. As the earth got colder, the porridge boiled over and swamped into the Empire. And as porridge which boils over is burnt and charred and changed into ash, so the barbarians who will boil over into the Empire will be changed and transmuted and charred into new nations, neither Roman nor Barbarian. And every one of these nations that is changed will be led by the sons of Votan, who lead only because they are Votan-born. And the Votan-born will spread over the whole earth, and whatever people they conquer they will turn into something like themselves.
The colder it gets, and the farther Apollo goes from the earth, the more the nations of the Votan-born will turn to the sea, and go out to face the storms of the ocean, and the terrors that lie beyond the ocean. But when Apollo approaches nearer the earth, then they
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