The Black Dog, and Other Stories

by A. E. Coppard

On the mid of night Tanil ushered Flaune to the great door, and it opened in peace. She said “Farewell” to him tenderly, and vanished away into the darkness, and so to the green mountain. As he stooped, watching her until his eyes could see no more, the door suddenly closed and locked against him, leaving him outside the wall. Lights came, and an outcry and a voice roaring: “Tanil is fled with the King’s mistress. Turn out the guard.” Tanil knew it to be the voice of a jealous captain, and, filled with consternation, he too turned and fled away into the night; not towards the mountains, but to the sea, hoping to catch a ship that would deliver him.

Throughout the night he was going, striving or sleeping, and it was stark noon before he came to the shore and passed over the strait in a ship conveying merchants to a fair where no one knew him and all were friendly. He hobnobbed with the merchants for several days, feeding and sleeping in the booths until the morning of the sixth day, and on that day a crier came into the fair ringing and bawling, bawling and ringing, and what he cried was this:

That King Cumac, Lord of the Forty Kingdoms, Prince of the Moon, and Chieftain under God, laid a ban upon all who should aid or relieve his treacherous servant Tanil, who had conspired against the King and fled. Furthermore it was to be known that Yali, the sister of Tanil, was taken as hostage for him, that if he failed to redeem her and deliver up his own body Yali herself was doomed to perish at sunset of the seventh day after his flight.

Tanil scarcely waited to hear the conclusion, for he had but one day more and he could suffer not his sister Yali to die. He turned from the fair and ran to the sea. As he ran he slipped upon a rock and was stunned, but a good wife restored him and soon he reached the harbour. Here none of the sailors would convey him over the strait, for they were bound to the merchantmen who intended not to sail that day. Having so little time to reckon Tanil offered them bribes (but in vain), and threats (but they would not), and he was in torment and anguish until he came to an old man who said he would take him within the hour if the wind held and the tide turned. But if the wind failed, although the tide should ebb never so kindly, yet he would not go: and even should the tide ebb strongly, yet if the wind wavered from its quarter he would not go: and if by mysterious caprice (for all was in the hands of God and a great wonder) the tide itself should not turn, then the wind might blow a dainty squall but he would not be able to undertake him. Upon this they agreed, and Tanil and the old sailor sat down in the little ship to play at checkers. Alas, fortune was against Tanil, he could not conquer the sailor, so he made to pay down his loss.

“Friend,” said the sailor, “a game is but a game, put up your purse.”

Tanil would not put back the money and the sailor said: “Let us then play on, friend; double or quits.” They played on, and again Tanil lost, and, as before, tendered his money. “Nay,” said the sailor, “a game is but a pastime, put back your money.” But Tanil laid it in a heap upon one of the thwarts. The old sailor sighed and said: “Come, you are now at the turn of fortune; is not an egg made of water and a stone of fire: let us play once more; double or quits.” And so continually, until it was long past noon ere they began to sail in a course for Cumac’s shore, two leagues over the strait. Now they had accomplished about three parts of this voyage when the wind slackened away like a wisp of smoke; slowly they drifted onwards until at eve the boat lay becalmed, and as yet some way out from the land. “Friend,” said the old sailor, laying out the checkers again, “let us tempt the winds of fortune.” But, full of grief at having squandered the precious hours, Tanil leaped into the sea and swam towards the shore. Soon the tide checked and was changed, and a current washed him far down the strait until the fading of day; then he was cast upon a crooking cape of sand in such darkness of night and such weariness of mind and body that he could not rise. He lay there for a while consumed with languor and hunger until the peace refreshed him; the winds of night were lulled and the waves; but though there were stars in the sky they could not guide him.

“Alas,” he groaned, “darkness and the oddness of the coast deceive me. Whether I venture to the right hand or the left, how shall I make my way? How little is man’s power; the fox and the hare may wander deceitfully but undeterred, yet here in this darkness I go groping like a worm laid upon a rock. Yali, my sister, how shall I preserve you?”

He went wandering across a hill away from the sea until he stumbled upon a hurdle and fell; and where he fell he lay still, sleeping.

Not until the dawn did Tanil wake; then he lay shivering in bonds, with a company of sheep watchers that stood by and mocked at him. Their shadows were long, a hundred-fold, for day was but newly dawned.

Their master was not yet risen from his bed, but the watchers carried Tanil to the door of his house and called to him.