CONTENTS: THE INTRODUCTION
I The Castle of Lord Juss
II The Wrastling for Demonland
III The Red Foliot
IV Conjuring in the Iron Tower
V King Gorice's Sending
VI The Claws of Witchland
VII Guests of the King in Carcë
VIII The First Expedition to Impland
IX Salapanta Hills
X The Marchlands of the Moruna
XI The Burg of Eshgrar Ogo
XII Koshtra Pivrarcha
XIII Koshtra Belorn
XIV The Lake of Ravary
XV Queen Prezmyra
XVI The Lady Sriva's Embassage
XVII The King Flies His Haggard
XVIII The Murther of Gallandus by Corsus
XIX Thremnir's Heugh
XX King Corinius
XXI The Parley Before Krothering
XXII Aurwath and Switchwater
XXIII The Weird Begun of Ishnain Nemartra
XXIV A King in Krothering
XXV Lord Gro and the Lady Mevrian
XXVI The Battle of Krothering Side
XXVII The Second Expedition to Impland
XXVIII Zora Rach Nam Psarrion
XXIX The Fleet at Muelva
XXX Tidings of Melikaphkhaz
XXXI The Demons Before Carcë
XXXII The Latter End of All the Lords of Witchland
XXXIII Queen Sophonisba in Galing
ARGUMENT: WITH DATES BIBLIOGRAPHICAL
NOTES ON THE VERSES

A selection from THE INDUCTION

THERE was a man named Lessingham dwelt in an old low house in Wasdale, set in a gray old garden where yew-trees flourished that had seen Vikings in Copeland in their seedling time. Lily and rose and larkspur bloomed in the borders, and begonias with blossoms big as saucers, red and white and pink and lemon-colour, in the beds before the porch. Climbing roses, honeysuckle, clematis, and the scarlet flame-flower scrambled up the walls. Thick woods were on every side without the garden, with a gap north-eastward opening on the desolate lake and the great fells beyond it: Gable rearing his crag-bound head against the sky from behind the straight clean outline of the Screes.

Cool long shadows stole across the tennis lawn. The air was golden. Doves murmured in the trees; two chaffinches played on the near post of the net; a little water-wagtail scurried along the path. A French window stood open to the garden, showing darkly a dining-room panelled with old oak, its Jacobean table bright with flowers and silver and cut glass and Wedgwood dishes heaped with fruit: greengages, peaches, and green muscat grapes. Lessingham lay back in a hammock-chair watching through the blue smoke of an after-dinner cigar the warm light on the Gloire de Dijon roses that clustered about the bedroom window overhead. He had her hand in his. This was their House.

"Should we finish that chapter of Njal?" she said.