On the morrow of the maiming of the Great Tree, the people of Ingos awoke and wept aloud. Those were the first tears shed in the land of Aphelos, the land of joy, since the arrival of the fugitives.
When the Sun rose among clouds in the East, Ingos, Lord of Aphelos, and the Lady Díamun, sat at the foot of the Great Tree, while the Counsellor of Ingos, Obrámus the Wise, stood at his right hand. On his left were the kin of Díamun, Dóna her sister and Tairis the husband of Dóna, and Beinun her brother and Tháli the wife of Beinun. There too was Dîamána the Fair, daughter of Ingos, and all the people of Dúmiel-in-Aphelos, saving only the Deceiver and his victim.
Then at last Ingos said:
‘Long it is since I had in mind the accursed name of Negobith. Before the great flood that brought me here, before the agelong sleep he cast upon me, he was my foe. His name is grievous. Lady, is it true, what that deceiver said? Is that indeed his parentage?’
‘Even so, Lord,’ replied the Lady Díamun, and her brow was clouded. ‘Nagbith, prince of Fíbor, the descendant and heir of Negobith the accursed, defiled Rauwenna, the sister of our mother Queen Dâyàmuna. She was beguiled and deceived, and this Hergal was their son, who has imitated his father by defiling the mother of trees.’ And the Lady wept.
‘Nagbith the vile is he who ordained the ruin of our realm of Dúmiel,’ said the Lord Beinun.
‘And many suspected that our cousin had some part in rendering up our city of Tídris, for he could not be found in the hour of our need, but the flood came before any enquiry might be made,’ said the Lady Dóna.
‘It is great harm and shame to me that ever he set foot in this enchanted land,’ said Ingos.
‘It was an evil fate that set me wandering in distant fields on the day when he came, lord,’ said Obrámus the Old, ‘and yet we welcomed all comers; would we have sent this one man back on the face of the ocean?’
‘But now our son is taken by the deceiver and is lost,’ said Ingos, ‘and our daughter Dîamána is sister to a traitor. So be it.’
Then he asked, ‘And what of Nagbith himself?’
‘Lord, my Master tells that the Flood undid his plans of conquest for a season at least, and he lies bound in some unknown place. As yet he rules not,’ said Obrámus.
‘Yet I fear he shall rule,’ said the Lady Díamun. ‘For now he shall be immortal, and this son of his, and they cannot be abased.’
‘That is but half the truth,’ replied Obrámus. ‘For though it may be that it lies not in our power alone to undo this work, there are powers in the world that can do it. For we stand not alone in the earth, though our fault turn us out of Aphelos.’
‘But, father,’ said Ingos, ‘what of his desire to learn all the secrets of the earth? It was said in days of old: úliter Negobith oinon im er-góta orboiniket óróter, “Negobith lusted for knowledge and sought to learn all things.” Shall this be fulfilled in his descendant? And what of the silver branch that Hergal cut? And the golden fruit?’
‘Though he searched and searched till the earth were dead he should not learn her secrets,’ said Obrámus. ‘For even to you, Lord, and to us, who are true, are only a few things revealed. To him, who is false, a mist shall descend before his enquiring mind. And in the silver bough, and the fruit — why, there Aphelos has her sting and victory. To live for ever a falsehood shall be a torture to Nagbith, that every one of us should pity. And the bough shall be a rod to accuse its master; from it he shall learn only the vile secrets of his own heart!’
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