1
Reviewing hastily the history
Of our relations---Hennamarn's and mine---
I will reveal the entire mystery
Before I think to pen another line.
2
Years earlier, I’d come with Shandra Queen
To Vornda on a holiday, for fun.
Still wed to Udi, I had not foreseen,
That Ajinblambia would be the one
3
To force me from her bed and take her hand,
To make herself her husband and her King,
Extending her own kingdom to each land,
To every ocean, to each living thing.
4
In Vornda, Hennamarn my fortune told,
“This year a King will mount the throne of Ung.”
I thought she’d meant that Udi’s realm would fold
And that usurpers’ banners would be hung.
5
I’d scoffed, dismissing as a wicked fraud
The oracle the sibyl had pronounced.
But it proved true. I verily was awed
That she’d the future faithfully announced.
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Now I’d apologized and was her pupil.
In mantic arts I would matriculate.
I must own to it, for I have my scruple.
The total truth I thus articulate.
7
Yes, now, though abbess, once again must I
Unto a dame superior bend a knee.
Indeed as an apprentice must I try
To do as Hennamarn required of me.
8
An urn of jade and gold filled full of leaves
Stood in the inner sanctum of her fane,
And often there, in flowing gown and sleeves,
She added embers from a pot with chain.
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So fragrant smoke would waft the room around
Nor could a soul avoid it to inhale,
But must breathe deeply fumes that did abound
And thus intoxicated quake and quail
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As Hennamarn her mystic mantras sang.
’Twas frightening a sight as I’d yet seen,
For that her face did seem to suffer pang,
Her disembodied spectre to careen
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And flap and rock and wobble in mid-air.
“My goodness, is she human?” I did muse,
For surely her to quiz I did not dare.
“Is she a Vrikshaya? Is this some ruse
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Whereto I’ve fallen victim by mistake,
Or even by design? But who’d contrive
To jeopardize my person or to make
A laughingstock of me or corpse alive?”
13
What was the nature of the leaf she smoked?
Was this a mere narcotic, evil weed?
Was this some opium, nepenthe-soaked,
Some balmy balsam or hypnotic seed?
14
It takes no saint to entertain a vision
Of highest Heaven when she’s doped and drugged.
Far be it from me to look with misprision
Or blandly just my shoulders to have shrugged,
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When, seeing Hennamarn herself entránce
And hearing how she ranted and she raved,
When witnessing her wild enchanted dance,
Quick liberty more than aught else I craved.
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She scared me. Yes, she did. I was affrighted.
Was I to be her prisoner and slave?
For surely Shandra’d never have invited
If she’d known in what straits myself she gave.
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The paradox was that I little wist
Whereby to extricate me from the grip
Of Hennamarn, and nevermore to tryst
With her in Vornda, nevermore by ship
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Down Liscarn’s
From Vavlu, Ufzu’s capital and seat,
Ne’ermore to step with habit meekly trailing
Into her shrine in Vornda in bare feet.
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My cell, scarce ten feet long and two feet wide,
Was only five feet high, but had three rooms.
The bath was two by two and, at its side,
The cloakroom, two by two, as if for brooms,
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Let me do off my habit and my shoe
With difficulty only, and my bed
Did occupy a space of six by two.
Erect I could not stand but must my head
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There was no window, nor was there much light.
Inside the cell, I panic felt enow
But tried to hold clear reason in my sight.
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Had I desired to flee, it seemed belike
That I should not escape in anywise.
The cell had no devices, nought to strike
An object or a person with, or prise
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A plank or door or weather-strip withal.
There was no prick or auger, wrench or drill
That I could use to get me to the hall
And then to climb beyond the nearest hill.
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So it meesemed I’d have to wait and serve
The dark-haired lady oracle at length.
Had I the wit, the courage and the nerve?
Did I possess sufficiency of strength?
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My stay in Vornda had begun as science,
As training that would elevate my mind.
I hadn’t come to manifest defiance
Or argument with Hennamarn to find.
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But as I saw these happenings, alarm,
An apprehension that I couldn’t name,
Did prompt me to deliver me from harm
By any measure whereupon I came.
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My only venue it appeared to me
Would be to seize her when she lay enthralled
Within her sanctum, as I bent a knee
To offer my obeisance when she called.
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She was a lady slender, slight and short,
Scarce more than but a snippet or a lass.
I should quite easily, as if in sport,
Be able her in combat to outclass,
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If to resort to violence I chose.
I saw no other recourse, no way out.
So I’d lay hands on her as she did doze
Anesthesized with incense all about.
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My plan was to put on her mystic gown,
Impersonating her as best I could,
As I strode spiritedly out of town,
Betaking me unto the nearest wood.
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From thence I’d find a way for to return
To Shandra where she lived in
By such a strategy, by such a turn,
I would retrieve my old abbatial power.
32
Of course, I thought, if my design miscarries,
There’ll be revenge and punishment, I know.
For she’s the kind who torments and who harries
Her every rival, enemy or foe.
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Therefore, let me be certain, I resolved,
That, making bold the sibyl to assault,
Each little puzzle I have fitly solved
Ere I attack beneath the temple’s vault.
34
At last, one morning, Hennamarn lay still
In some deep ecstasy, unconscious, quiet,
More dead than living, quite devoid of will.
“Now is the time for me to start the riot.”
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I sprang from where I sat, just like an ounce
Who’s sighted prey and seeks it for to capture.
Upon the famed clairvoyant did I pounce
At just the climax of her mystic rapture,
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At just the moment when she was immersed
In the profoundest coma and narcosis.
Upon her fantasies and slumbers did I burst,
Intruding rudely on her mad hypnosis.
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For warriors, if you read your history,
Are wont to charge an enemy at night.
For when they’re sleeping, it’s no mystery,
They’re hardly ready to come out and fight.
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Regrettably, analogies oft fail,
For Hennamarn was not a sleeping host.
No sooner than I ventured to assail,
She stood bolt upright, like a living ghost.
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Ere I laid hands on her, her hands on me,
Nor feeble nor effete, she laid with strength.
Eftsoons she threw me on her long settee
And held me prone, immobile at full length.
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A cummerbund or sash about her waist,
Of pleated purple satin, she jerked off.
Five seconds later ‘round my wrists she placed
And tied the cummerbund, nor could I doff
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My makeshift manacle, regardless how
I tugged and wriggled, shrugged and wiggled. “Zounds!”
Said I unto myself, despairing now,
“My sorrow is profound. My woe abounds.”
42
A minute passed. Then servitors did come
And bore me off unto another cell,
Larger and lighter than the one wherefrom
I’d hoped to fly but whence I only fell.
43
A day passed. Servitors came to my door
Then to a courtyard where a lofty arch,
Parabola of stainless steel, curved o’er,
They caused me quite ungallantly to march.
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The sibyl Hennamarn presided all,
Assigning to each servitor a chore.
Down from the arch’s apex they let fall
A chain that almost reached the ground, nor more.
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Next thing I knew they’d haled me just below
And handcuffed me in leather lined with plush.
They hooked me to the chain. Up did I go,
But only very slow. They did not rush.
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When that the slack all taken up had been.
A pair of plush-lined fetters they did ring
About my ankles, just below my shin.
Thereto an iron ball, a massive thing,
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Did they connect with yet another chain.
Then on their windlass they the crank turned ‘round
Until that in mid-air, with stress and strain,
I hovered with the ball now off the ground.
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Now I was but a chain-link dressed in black.
A hundred pounds the ball meseemed to weigh.
The servitors did pull me forth and back,
As pendulum did I begin to sway.
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On either end the court, they’d hung a gong,
Ten feet it measured, huge cast iron thing,
And as I dangled, swinging swift along,
The ball did strike the gong and make it ring.
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Ding, dong, ding, dong, ding, dong all morning long!
While Hennamarn triumphantly did smile.
She seemed to like the music of the gong.
Her fingers were batons conductor-style.
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She nodded with the rhythm and the rhyme,
And grinned, it would appear with too much malice.
Her foot she patted as if keeping time.
“Oh, would that I could go to
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This was so painful and embarrassing!
Who would have dreamt the sibyl thus would act—
A pious abbess to keep hárassing?
I marvelled that compassion she so lacked.
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Now in my heart of hearts I did diminish
The guilt I’d felt for having scoffed at her,
Yes, to my sense of shame I put a finish.
To superego I would ne’er recur.
54
But notwithstanding, at her mercy, I,
For having been so rash as to attempt
Escape from out her clutches, might soon die
If Hennamarn held me in such contempt.
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Day in, day out, she dragged me to the court.
Her servitors would chain me with the ball.
Apparently for Hennamarn ’twas sport
To do this right within the temple wall.
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No longer might I go into the fane,
Into the sanctum where the censer stood.
My only audience was when, in chain,
I spoke if Hennamarn to listen would.
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She was completely disinclined to hear
When any syllable I spoke aloud.
For pleading and entreaties she’d no ear.
By threats and warnings she would not be cowed.
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Was she draconian? Was she sadistic?
Was she tyrannical or was she stern?
Was this the disposition of a mystic,
Or did aught else within her bosom burn?
59
She kept me sev’ral weeks in my new cell,
And daily I was taken to the arch.
This was a baneful punishment to tell.
To bear such trials I didn't have the starch.
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I reasoned there would shortly be an end,
For Hennamarn knew surely I’d be missed.
Then Úfzuans arriving to defend
Down Vloshca would come sailing in the mist.
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They’d liberate me. They would set me free.
How they would deal with Hennamarn I rued,
A party to such evil for to be
I surely lacked the spirit and the mood.
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