Gustro sat down by his lady's bed, took her wasted hand in his warm one, and placed a kiss on her white lips with his red ones. "No matter what happens and no matter what the end of the adventure, I will always love you, Heart-of-mine," he whispered. And Lady Angelica smiled on him and went to sleep.
Through the Dark Forest, Cecil, Overlord of Walling, galloped with the little wise man in his arms. He flung himself from his war-horse and ran quickly into the cave.
"Have you finished the elixir?" he cried.
The ancient looked up, as though in doubt as to what the question was. He was breathing heavily and little drops of sweat rolled down his leathered face
"Oh yes, I remember now. The elixir that would save the lady and take from her the thirty bodies of the men we placed in her by virtue of our synthetic magical wine. I remember now! I have been working on it. In a few more minutes it will be finished."
Dropping forward on the oak table he died. In falling, his withered hand struck a golden flask and overturned it on the floor. Liquid amber ran over the dust of ages. A cockroach came and drank of it and suddenly died.
"I am afraid," moaned the little Homunculus. "I wish I were back in my bottle."
But Cecil, Overlord of Walling, did not know how to comfort him.
5. The Battle Of The Toads
Although the fifth in the complete series, this was the first of the Cornwall tales to be published; and the following three chapters are in the same sequence as they were originally published in WEIRD TALES. We have seen touches of whimsy in the earlier chapters, as welt as somewhat stronger touches of grue, but it is in the Cecil chapters that whimsy is supreme.
As a youth I spent some time in an Irish monastery learning to read, write and speak fluently in Latin; all of which seemed most important. From there I journeyed to the far East and lived in Arabia. I met many learned ancients who kindly taught me all they knew of alchemy, necromancy, and legerdemain. Finally, with no definite reason other than desire, I returned to the little town of Walling, in Armorica, where I had beat born.
There I spent some time with my Uncle Cecil, Overlord of the Hubelaires. He was still heartbroken over the death of his only child, the lady Angelica.
"Her death is more than a personal loss," he explained. "Had she lived and married Prince Gustro and borne children the Hubelaire line would have remained unbroken. Your lather was my only brother and you are his only son. You have adventured in far lands and have, perhaps, gained much wisdom. It would be well fur you to live with me and, when I die, become Overlord of the Hubelaires. We are a little people, and pride comprises most of our wealth; but our folk need a wise man to lead and care for than. It seems to me that it is your duty to prepare yourself against the time when you will be the Overlord."
"That is a kindly thought, Uncle, but I have other plans. I have talked to many of the old men of our family, and they say that once we ruled in Cornwall, where we had a mighty castle. My wish is to travel to that far land and in some way become Overlord of Cornwall, though at this lime I have no idea how that can be accomplished. Because I have the determination of youth, there is nothing you can do that can change this plan."
"I regret your ambition, but it may be that you are directed in this by the gods, so I will not say you nay. Instead I shall give you a purse of gold and a parchment brought from the Isle of Lundy by our ancestor Raymond, son of Raymond the Golden. On this parchment is drawn a chart showing where family treasures were hid in the castle what our family tied from Cornwall. What these are I do not know, for their secret has been lost during the passing years. But if you find the castle you may recover than, and there is no one who has a better right to than than you. So speed on your way, and always remember that you are a Hubelaire."
Thus, in course of time, I sailed from Armorica in a little fishing boat. Whether by the seamanship of the captain or the prevailing winds, I finally landed on the coast of Cornwall. My charger, spavined, aged, thin, and blind of one eye, had not benefited by the voyage and within an hour after landing died. It being impossible for even a man of my great strength to make much headway on foot clad in armor, I sorrowfully hid most of it under some leaves, carefully marking the spot so I might recover the valuable items when opportunity permitted. Thai I walked on with a dagger in my belt, and with my long sword and my shield pounding my back at every step.
In a few hours, tired and hungry, I came to a large castle centered in a green meadow. I was certain that it was the ancient home of my family and that no one, certainly none in Cornwall, had a better right to it than I had. But, to my great surprise, I found it occupied, for a peculiar-looking man in monk's clothing stood on the drawbridge, evidently wailing for me. My first thought was that he looked like a toad, and at once I was irritated by his presumption in living in the Hubelaire castle. I determined that when I ruled as Overlord of Cornwall I would at once evict him; but, at that time, I was not inclined to tell him how I felt, for I was more in need of shelter, food, and a warm place by the fire than of an argument.
Making use of my best Latin, I explained to the monk who I was and where I had come from and assured him that I was a man of culture, meant him no harm, and was "I sore need of any hospitality and refreshment he could afford me. He replied that he was the Abbe Rousseau and that the castle belonged to him, though some centuries earlier it had been possessed by an old family, who had finally deserted it. He had found it.unoccupied and, with some of his friends, had taken habitation in it. He thought it would be no harm to entertain me, though as a rule strangers were never welcome. Finally he invited me to enter the castle.
It was twilight; his face was partially covered by a cowl; the pine split which he carried gave more smoke than flame. Thus, for more reasons than one, l did not glimpse his face after we had come to the banquet hall, where a fire blazed in the fireplace on one side. Leaving me there, he wended his way into the shadows and soon returned carrying a well-gnawed joint of meat, some hard bread, and a bottle of sour wine. On this feast I regaled myself with an eagerness born of hunger, rather than with the enjoyment of an epicurian.
After eating all there was I thanked my host. Now, as he stood before the fire warming his withered shins and facile hands I first saw him clearly. Those hands, dead white, with large blue veins coursing over them — those hands with long, hungry fingers and uncut nails — caused me to shiver; for the fingers moved in aimless fashion, as though alive and independent of the man they were attached to; which was a thought I had never had of the fingers of any man I had ever seen.
But stranger yet, and far more soul-rocking, was the man's face. Of course it was the face of man. It was easy to tell that it was a man who had admitted me, fed me, and now stood before the fire, ready to talk. I told myself bitterly that I was a fool to think otherwise of one who had so hospitably entertained me, yet there was something about that face, so intermittently illumined by the dancing flames, that thoroughly chilled me and made me hurriedly clutch the gold crucifix that hung around my neck-for there was something about the face of the man that reminded me of a toad.
The thin, bloodless lips were tightly compressed and stretched wide across a face that was remarkable for the receding forehead and shrunken cheeks. The skin was like parchment, thin parchment of a slightly green tinting — and now and then, as the Abbe stood in silent meditation, he breathed into his closed mouth and puffed those thin checks like a fish bladder; then he looked more than ever like a toad.