Ingos the Earthstepper, bringer of blessings, passed a joyful harvest-time with much merrymaking amidst the Hyûvandri of Peréikatî. Their barns were full of corn and there was fruit and honey and wine. The tidings about the people of Uxul in the distant east did not reach him, and he did not set out from the west until it was too late.
On a dark night of rain and wind the Kúmi Netári came again to Uxul. The people welcomed them in, though they trembled at their hawk-headed helms and their stout staves and the skulldeer on which they rode. And Ketumar said to Angash, the chief of the Hawk-headed ones:
‘It is good that you come to protect us. The yellow Witch-women, who go without menfolk, came to us but a short while ago, threatening us with their wiles. They told us that they would send the man Ingos here, of whom our fathers fabled, but whom we have never seen.’
The Netári noted this news carefully. Some of them returned to Kapgar Kûm to report it. That night they took charge of the walls of Uxul. They lit watchfires by the gates and kept their eyes on the village to see that everyone remained inside it.
In the morning they gathered all the villagers around the sacred stone in the centre of Uxul, and laid their staves upon their shoulders, one after another, calling aloud:
Kagdar-kî kathú-mikhan-dâ ikhtafis-kûr bridzatungubith! ‘Receive the yoke of Negobith till the Night release you!’
The Hyûvandri of Uxul cried out in pain. They stared in perplexity at the purple marks spreading on their shoulders. Seeing what was coming, two young children, a girl and a boy, ran away from the crowd. They darted between the legs of two Hawk-headed ones who tried to catch them, and jumped into a disused well.
‘Good riddance, they have no mothers or fathers, and no one wanted them,’ said Ketumar.
He did not know, any more than the other village people, that it was not a deep well. It was blocked up, and had for long been the secret place to which these two orphan children went to play and to console one another in their hardships. It led into a natural chamber to one side, a few feet below the ground, in which there was, indeed, a quantity of water. That water refreshed them all through that day while they hid from the terrible Netári. The name of the lad was Arbros and of the maiden, Vidnî; they had spent their short lives with fosterparents, who had cared little for them and treated them as servants.
Then there came the eight Netáka runewives, who had not been seen in Uxul the night before. At a sign from Angash, they began the abominable Rites of Negobith. The sound of the words was intolerable. Vidnî and Arbros put their fingers in their ears to try to shut them out, but even though they had not received the Yoke of Negobith, some of those words remained branded in their brains for ever afterwards. Over and over the name of Mikhan-dâ, the Night, was invoked, and indeed it became very dark over Uxul, long before the evening came.
At midnight the sound of the chanting of the runewives ended. There was a confused noise of people moving and speaking low, of doors opening and shutting, of wheels grinding on the ground, and over it the harsh voices of the Netâri. Gradually the sound died away and night came again, still and cold.
Arbros and Vidnî crept from their hiding place. The clouds had cleared and the Moon lit the village dimly. There was no sign of the Netári, nor of the village people. Every house was dark. The beasts were gone. They went to the house of the man Arbros called uncle, in which Arbros had lived as a servant. It was empty. A few pieces of furniture were left, but little else. They managed to find some bread to eat, for they were very hungry by now. Then they went to the sacred stone in the middle of the village, and sat down. Arbros asked:
‘What are we to do?’
Vidnî said:
‘Let us call on the name the Witch-women told us of. They seemed to me to be kind, whatever Ketumar says of them.’
So they said together:
Émarul Sápha-ê, ko-roziâ ni vau-ta ver ilguri vostrivánë! ‘O thou, Emarul Sapha, listen to the voice of us children crying out’
Then they curled up and slept.
No comments:
Post a Comment