Tales From Cornwall: A History Of The Hubelaires

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.

Of course I could not express my thoughts. A Christian Knight, who always should try to be a gentleman, does not eat the food of a stranger, thus accepting his hospitality, and that repay him by telling him how much he looks like a toad. At least, I avoided acting that way, though there was no harm in my thinking and I most certainly thought hard.

The Abbe asked me why I was wayfaring in Cornwall, where I had spent my youth, and what experience I had in warfare. To all these questions I gave answers that had a great deal of truth in than, though I was. unwilling to confide in him that I was a Hubelaire, had come to claim our ancestral home, and regarded him as an interloper who would at once be thrown out of the caste if aid when I became Overlord of Cornwall. He seemed well pleased with all I had to say, and more and more he teetered on feet which seemed longer than the feet of most men; faster and faster he puffed out his cheeks, breaking into my remarks, with a strange puffing of wind which, to my excited fancy, sounded like the croak, croak, croak of bullfrogs at the breeding season. Then, when I came to an end he told me of himself.

"Fair sir, who say you are Cecil, son of James, grandson of David and even a descendant of Raymond, whoever he might be, but give no facts about your family or their name, you have come to Cornwall in good time and your arrival at this castle is indeed opportune. As you may have surmised, I am not a native of this wild land, nor are my friends whom you will see tonight. Some of us are from France, others from Bohemia, and a few from the far lands beyond Tartary in the deserts of Gobi; but we are all brothers, bound together by ties of blood, desire, and a great ambition which will soon be disclosed to you. Yet, while we all excel in necromancy and have knowledge of much that is weird and deadly, none is skilled in arms and the use of weapons of offense and defense. This is not due to any lack of courage — oh, believe me, Fair Sir, when I say that it is not due to any lack of courage or daring, but rather to certain physical defects which prevent us from taking part in the brave art of war, the delight of most men. So we gain our aids by other means. But tonight we must have a man who will fight for us, if there be need of fighting. I hope that such will not be the case, still, there may be need of fighting-yes, there is no doubt there will be use for a sharp sword, though it might be better were you to use your dagger."

”Oh, as for that,” I replied with forced bravery, ”I can use whichever is the most needed. Personally, I prefer the two-handed sword which I carry on my back, but perhaps if there is not much room and the light is not of the best, the dagger would be the weapon of choice. Now, in previous slaying of giants I always felt that the sword was better, because there always comes a time when it is necessary to carve off their heads, and, of course, that is slow work with a dagger. Yet, in a little melee I had with a one-eyed dragon in a cave on the Canary Isle, I obtained much pleasure in blinding him with one stroke of the dagger, and the next moment the point found his heart. You would have enjoyed that little fight, Abbe and I am sure that had you seen it, you would have full confidence in my ability to handle any emergency that may arise tonight."

The Abbe smiled. "I like you. On my word, I like you. I am so impressed with you that I am almost tempted to ask you to become one of the Brethren. That may come later. But to the point of my tale: We are gathered here tonight to witness the overcoming of one of our greatest and most troublesome enemies. For centuries he has outwitted us and caused us grid. More than one of the Brethren has come to his death through the evil machinations of this fiend. But at last we have foiled him, aid tonight we will kill him. Naturally, when he dies, his power will come to us; and with that additional power there is no telling to what heights of fame the Brethren will rise. We will kill him. For centuries he has boasted of his immortality, his greatness, his imperviousness to harm; yet tonight we will kill him.

"I misspoke myself. We will not kill him. I will do it! That is what pleases me so. All of us are powerful, but I am just a little stronger than the other Brothers. So I am going to kill this enemy, and when I do, I will rule all men on Earth, and perhaps those on other stars. I long to go into space, to conquer stars other than this one on which we live."

"I will kill him tonight. I have this man in a glass bottle which, by craft, I induced him to enter. Once there, he took a new shape-and was it not a pleasant thing that he took the shape he did? It gave me the power and the glory-world without end-no, no, no! I did not intend to say that- not yet, not at this time! I am not powerful enough to defy Cod." His voice sank to a whine. "Not yet, but perhaps in a few hours; after I have added to my power the strength of the dead fend.

"This evil one in the bottle cannot be killed by poison, steel, fire, water, or the prevention of breathing. There is no weapon powerful enough to destroy him; but tonight he dies. For he is inside the glass bottle and I am on the outside, and he had voluntarily assumed the shape that makes it possible for me to kill him, through the glass. Can you understand? The glass is transparent. He has to look at me. I shall look at him, and in that glance lies his death. Soon he will shrivel, grow smaller, little by little he will lose form till he lies, a few drops of slime, a twisted mass of softened bones, at the bottom of the bottle. This bottle has a glass stopper, made with the greatest cunning. In the hollow center are ashes from the bones of holy men, tears that fell from the eyes of Mary, and a drop of sweat from the brow of a tortured saint. These sacred relics of the past will hold the fiend's soul a prisoner. After he has turned to slime I will remove the stopper and suck his spirit into me. No longer having a body to dwell in, his spirit will be glad to inhabit me and thus I will have the strength, power and glory of the Great One who Once ruled Hell. Is this not clever?”

"Indeed it is," I replied, with a lilt to my voice and a nausea in the pit of me. "But why do you have me in this drama? You say my sword and dagger are useless against this Evil One."

"You will guard me, fair youth. You, who are so brave, full of desire. and longing to be someone before you die, have beat sent here by fate at a most opportune moment, to protect me if I need such help. Can you not see the position I will be in? There I am, with my mouth clasped over the mouth of the bottle, all ready to breathe in the spirit that will make me the greatest of all men, living or dead. Suppose, just before I breathe, one of the Brethren — and I particularly suspect the man from Gobi — slips a dagger through my heart and takes my place as the breather-in of this great power. How horrible this would be! What a sad ending to my dreams of empire! I have planned and plotted it all and now have brought it to pass. Why should I, at the lastward, be denied the right to become Emperor of the Powerful Ones, simply because a Chinese dagger is plunged through my heart? I know you will protect me

"Oh, promise me that you will be at my back and see to it that none of the Brethren acts wrongfully! Will you promise that? In return l will see that you are paid. What do you wish most? Gold? Power? The love of a beautiful women? Let me look into your eyes. Oh, lovely! You are a true brother of mine, for I see that you desire a warm room, filled with a library of many books, old manuscripts and curious vellums. I will give you all of these and thus prove to you that I reward those who help me in my hour of peril. What say you if I reward you by placing in this library a copy of Elephantis? Some think Nero destroyed them all, but I know where one copy is. Will you guard me if I give you all this?”

"I certainly will," I replied almost enthusiastically, as I pictured myself sitting before a warm fire enjoying Elephantis in a purely philosophical manner. Of course I wanted much more than a library, but I thought it unwise to mention my ambitions at this time. I was not too well acquainted with the Abbe and, after all, it is best not to be too precipitous in confidences.

The Abbe seemed pleased. He insisted on kissing me on both cheeks, after the French fashion.

I wish to say at this time, that though I had performed many brash acts of derring-do in my short life, such as subduing single-handed the Yellow Ant of Fargons (eight feet tall and very deadly in its poison) and facing undaunted the Mystic Mere Woman of the Western Seas, still the bravest moment of my life was when I withstood the toad kiss of the Abbe and did not scream; for I wanted to — oh, how I longed to howl out my fear to the listening owls and scorpions! But of course such conduct would have been unseemly in the future Overlord of Cornwall. So I smiled, and vowed him my vows and told him to be sure not to forget the copy of Elephantis and would he kindly refresh me with more wine before the evening's performance began?

It was later — an eternity of waiting for me, but perhaps only an hour or so in actual minutes — that we fore gathered in a lower room of the castle. A light shone in the room, though where it came from was only one more thing to worry me. Near one wall was a stool, and in front of it a low table, and on that table something tall and round, covered by a square of velvet tapestry. The Abbe sat on the stool while I stood behind him fingering the handle of my favorite dagger, the ivory handle carved in the semblance of a woman. The glistening blade below her naked body had kissed more than one brave man and foul monster to death.

Then from crevices in the wall — yes, perhaps from cracks in the floor, or so it seemed to my fevered fancy — the Brethren came into being and gathered in a semicircle around the table. Their faces were toad-like, similar to the face of the Abbe. There they stood, and I said to my knees, "Remember the honor of the Hubelaires!" and I whispered to my jaws, ”Be silent and remember the bravery of thy grandsire David!” but in spite of these admonitions my knees and jaws castanetted, to my sore dismay.

From the Abbe came a croak, and a low chorus of answering croaks came from the men who stood around me. I looked into their faces and in the shifting, shimmering light saw for a certainty the same toad-like features that had so amazed me what I first saw than in the lace of the Abbe. Before I could properly conceal my astonishment the Abbe took a chalice from a niche in the wall, and, after doing that which seemed rather indecorous, took it in both hands and gave each of the Brethren a drink from it. What the drink was, I, at that time, could only imagine, but later, after deep study of Satanism, I frequently shuddered at my narrow escape that night. Fortunately I was not asked to join in the draining of the cup.

Seating himself on the stool, the Abbe bade me take the cover from of the thing that was both tall and round. I did so, an,d there was a large glass bottle with a giant toad squatting at the bottom. There was no difficulty in seeing every part of this toad, especially his face and eyes. as the glass was of a wonderful clearness. He faced the Abbe- and the eyes of these two, one a daemon-toad and the other a man-toad, glowed ghoulishly at each other. Between them, separated by thousands of years of different thinking, conflicting ambitions, antagonistic personalities, waged a conflict of souls, such as rarely has beer fought on Earth or any other place, so far as I know; though, of course, I am not all-wise concerning the other planets — or this one either, for that matter.

They glared at each other, each striving for supremacy, each trying to destroy the other. I could not see the eyes of the Abbe, but I could dearly see the eyes of the imprisoned toad were shining with supreme confidence. Did the Abbe see in them what I saw?

He must have! For he tried to escape. Three times he endeavored to arise and flee, and each time he was pulled back down on to stool and his face and eyes were drawn closer to the eyes peering at him so derisively through the clear glass wall. Then, with a low moan, the poor man slumped silently forward and even before my eyes he melted, first into a jelly and then into evil, odiferous slime running over the floor, but partly absorbed and held together by the clothing of what had once been the Abbe Rousseau.

As he died, the toad inside the bottle grew larger and assumed human shape. He turned around slowly in the bottle, and, in his turning, looked at each of the Brethren and after that look they stood still, unable to move, and over the face of each dropped the hideous mask of uttermost despair. Now the man in the bottle looked at me. Well, id him look all he wanted to! I was holding fast to my cross and I knew the power of the cork to hold him inside his crystal prison. If his glare became too powerful I could shut my eyes; at least I thought I could.

But those eyes did not try to harm me They seemed kindly and gentle. Then the man raised his arms in the air three times and his lips made three definite and magical movements. Interested and amazed I recalled that appeal for help, having learned it in Araby when I was raised from the grave by the lion's grip, the Lion of the House of Judah. What could the man mean by giving me this sign? Was it a coincidence? An accident? Or was he indeed a frater of mine?

Of course I knew what he wanted, so I pulled out the cork.

He passed through the neck of the bottle and jumped to the floor, a small man dressed in black velvet, with glistening hair aid a most pleasing smile, which in some way warmed my heart and removed much of my apprehension.

He paid no attention to me but passed slowly in front of the toad-faced Brethren and as he passed they moaned in anguish and, falling on their faces before him, tried to kiss his feet. It was this act of adoration that caused me to look at his feet; and, utterly astonished, I saw they were hoofed and hairy, like those of a goat.

Finally he passed all the Brethren and, turning, made a sign, at which their aiding was in all respects like that of the Abbe. They too turned to slime, naught being left on the floor save their clothing and the toad-juice oozing from it. Thai he came to where I was standing, braced against the wall to keep from falling, and he said merrily: "Well, Cecil, my good fellow and rare sib, how goes the evenings?"

"Pleasant enough," I replied, "with first one divertissement and then another. In fact, it has been profitable for me in many ways."

"Lad," he said kindly, gripping me by the shoulder, and in that grip was the warmth of human comradeship, "you showed rare discernment in releasing me from that bottle. Of course I could have broken it, but there was something about your face that pleasured me and I wanted to test you. I found that you also had been in the East, in Araby, and when I asked for help you gave it. These toad-men have worried me for years. I have tried to destroy than, for they hurt my cause, but never till tonight, and then only by outwitting them, could I gather them together in one room. There is only one left, and I do not think he will trouble me. I warrant that the Abbe was surprised. He had experimented and killed many a real toad, but, of course, I was not a toad, just had the appearance of one for the time being. Well, that is over with and I can go back to better and happier occupations. But you really did let me out, and, perhaps, the magic of the cork was stronger than l thought. So I will grant you three requests, my dear sib — ask or anything you desire.”

My heart was in my mouth but, nevertheless, I spoke up bravely.

"Give me the power to conquer all giants, robbers, knaves, salamanders, ogres, serpents, dragons and all evil things, male and female, on, beneath and above Earth wherever and wherever I come into conflict with them."

"That is a lot of power, but I will grant it."

"Then, in this castle I want a library, a very fine one. A very long time ago a woman wrote a book called Elephantis. I would like that book in the library.”

The man laughed. "l heard the Abbe tell yon about that book. Do you know that I was well acquainted with the girl who wrote it? In fact l put some of the facts contained in that book into her head. Well, I will give you the library and the book. Have you no desire for temporal power?"

"Yes. This castle we are in, though part ruins, was once the home of my family, the Hubelaires. I would like to have it restored to its former grandeur and to live in it as the Overlord of Cornwall."

"That is a simple matter lo arrange, a mere bagatelle." Then he opened his closed hand and in the palm lay a golden key strung on a black silk cord. This he suspended around my neck, saying, "This is the sign patent of your authority. Always remember the words on it:

Guard it well if you wish to remain Overlord. Now I really must be on my way. I wish you a long life and a merry one." Immediately he vanished, amid the hooting of owls.

All around me stirred new life in stone and plaster. I walked slowly through the long halls, now clean of the dust of centuries. Finally I came to the banquet hall, where men-at-arms awaited my command and little pages ran to ask me my desires.

Walking slowly, as in a dream, I mounted the winding stairway and climbed to the topmost tower. There I met a sturdy warrior, standing watch over the safety of the castle. It was a beautiful night, starlighted and with a full moon. Far down the winding road came the blare of trumpets and the pleasant music of horses hooves on the hard clay and the ringing clash of sword against armor at each step of a charger. Now and then, mingled with the noise of many men, came the peal of women's laughter.

"What means this cavalcade advancing toward the castle?" I gruffly asked the warrior.

"These be the great men of Cornwall, with their ladies and knights and all their men-at-arms, who ward their way through the night to bid you welcome to Cornwall and humbly acknowledge you as their Overlord," he replied, smiling.

"That is as it should be," I made answer. "Go and command that all be prepared against their coming. And, when they arrive, bid the nobles to come to me. They will find me in the library."