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Varou
The
Squall
Far
from the care of the sheltering shore,
From
a currach a man cast his lines.
The
fish were quick rising, the man was intent,
So
that tardy he noticed the signs that a squall did approach,
With
a belly of black, and the ice of the North in its teeth.
It
stabbed down with claws that bedazzled his sight,
And
snarled as he cowered beneath.
The
squall then it hurled forth a punishing rain,
That
bruised him & drenched him & chilled him.
He
cried with dismay as it bore him away,
For
he knew it would sport ere it killed him.
The
squall screamed its taunts in his half-deafened ears,
As
it pummelled him far out to sea;
"Thence
you are bound for the foulest of fates,
For
the Doom Of The Deep waits for thee."
"Your
currach shall founder by rain & by wave,
To
be claimed by the clamouring swell,
Where
the grindylows wait with their cold, snagging claws,
To
drag you swift-down into Hel."
"Think
you that death shall await as release?
O
tiny man you are mistaken!
For
then you shall taste of the Grindylow Kiss,
As
into the depths you are taken."
"Lungs
seared to bursting & blind in the dark,
The
Grindylow Kiss shall preserve you.
In
exquisite terror, an instant from death,
A
black foetid breath shall conserve you."
"So
snatch your last shallow & shivering gasps;
At
the Kelp-Fields ere long we arrive,
Where
Old Mother Grindylow marshals her shoal;
O
such torments that hag shall contrive!"
The
fisherman lay in the hurtling craft,
Curled
up in a shuddering ball.
He
prayed to his gods with a last thread of hope,
And
endured the spite of the squall.
Then
he cocked up his head in confused disbelief,
For
a howl he had clearly just heard.
'Twas
the howl of a wolf,
But
surely at sea to hear such a sound was absurd!
Again
came the howl. The man clutched at his head,
Feeling
sure he was rendered insane,
Then
shrank back with eyes wide,
As
the prow of a longship did pierce through the curtain of rain.
A
huge craft she was, and pitched unto black.
Her
oars they did bristle like spines.
Her
prow was becarved as a sleek winged stag,
With
antlers of brightly gilt tines.
The
end of a rope was thrown down to the man;
To
grasp it he loud was exhorted.
"Come
aboard fellow mariner! I bid you make haste!
Ere
long we shall have the squall thwarted."
"Heave
away!" a voice boomed as they hauled him aboard.
"Let
us put to a race with this squall.
Heed
not its screeching & bend to your oars;
Full-soon
we shall feast at my hall."
The
trembling who-man was laid down to rest,
'Neath
an awning stretched out in the stern.
He
fought with the weakness that plucked at his limbs;
With
the fever he felt start to burn.
He
dragged him to sitting & gazed at the crew,
Each
pulling full-hard at his oar.
In
the sear of the lightning he saw they were huge,
Their
heads like to bears, and to boar.
A
heavy-tusked crewman did come to the who-man,
With
bread & thick stew & with ale.
He
coaxed him to sup as the squall fell to aft,
And
the captain howled out for the sail.
"What
is the name of this longship good tar?"
He
asked as he spooned up the stew.
"She
is the Peryton" came the reply,
"And
that is our captain, Varou."
The
tusker did point to the Peryton's prow,
Where
a long-muzzled giant did stand.
"Wolven
Varou, the Cur Of The Waves,
And
we are his beastly-faced band."
'Neath
a cloud-tattered moon, before spume-spattered gusts,
The
Peryton clove to her port.
Her
brass-thwarted keel did sunder the swell,
As
she ran with her sail snapped taut.
Ere
long loomed their landfall; the Isle of Guernr,
Of
which Wolven Varou was the lord.
They
slipped to the jetty & sent out the ropes;
So
thus was the Peryton moored.
The
who-man, the crew & Varou did alight,
Then
made they high-spirited track.
Howling
& mirthful went Wolven Varou,
And
all of his beast-headed pack.
The
hall of Varou was a sight to behold,
All
carven with knotwork & rune.
Set
over the door was a great glowing stone,
That
was like to a full-bellied moon.
The
great hearth was kindled, the braziers lit.
The
benches & boards were laid long.
The
door was full-shut 'pon the chill of the night,
And
merriment spread through the throng.
Varou
howled for ale; a tun was rolled forth,
Which
he broached with a punch of his fist.
When
his warriors' flagons were foaming & charged,
He
sought for the man in their midst.
"Ah,
there is our guest." spake Wolven Varou,
As
he lounged with a goblet in hand.
"We
must raise him a toast!" quoth he with a grin,
And
the man was exhorted to stand.
"Come
my Bears & my Boar! Raise your cups to this who-man.
He
comes to us salted yet fresh.
Then
despatch him full-swift, and prepare him for roasting,
The
sooner to feast 'pon his flesh."
"But
why?" cried the who-man. "My rescue you made!
As
an equal you saw fit to treat me.
What
has changed from the kindness you showed 'pon the sea,
That
now you would so choose to eat me?"
"Out
'pon the main we are mariners all.
'Pon
shore we are most, you are least.
'Pon
sea you were comrade, a brother afloat.
'Pon
shore you are Meat For The Beast."
