Idle Days on the Yann by Lord Dunsany

First published: 1910

Type of plot: Fantasy

Time of work: The early twentieth century

Locale: The River Yann, in Dunsany's imaginary Lands of Dream

Principal Characters:

• The unnamed narrator, a traveler
• The captain, whose ship is the Bird of the River

The Story

The narrator arrives at the Yann, where, as prophesied, he finds the Bird of the River. Singing sailors swing the ship out into the central stream, while the narrator is interviewed by the captain about his homeland and destination. The ship sails from Fair Belzoond, whose gods are "least and humblest," not very threatening, and easily appeased. The narrator discloses that he hails from Ireland, in Europe, but is mocked, for captain and crew deny the existence of any such places. When he reveals the lands where his fancy dwells, they compliment him, for these places are at least imaginable, if unknown. He bargains for passage to the Gates of Yann.

As the sun sets and the darkness of the adjoining jungle deepens, the sailors hoist lanterns and then kneel to propitiate their gods, five or six at a time, so that no god will be addressed by more than one man at any moment. Meanwhile, the helmsman, holding the ship in midstream, sings the helmsman's prayer, common to all helmsmen of whatever faith. Not to be alone, the narrator also prays, but to a god long ago deserted by humankind. Night descends as the prayers die out, yet the sailors feel comforted in the face of the Great Night to come.

During the night, under the guidance of the ever-singing helmsman, they pass a number of cities and tributaries with exotic names. Finally, shortly after daybreak, they harbor at Mandaroon. While the sailors gather fruit, the narrator visits the city, silent, moss-covered, and apparently deserted. A sentinel at the gate informs him that questions are forbidden, because when the people awake the gods will die. When the narrator inquires further about these gods, he is driven off.

The ship sets forth again under the full sun, accompanied now by choirs of insects, including the butterflies, whose hymns are beyond human ears, rising to pay homage in flight and song to the vivifying sun. The sun works otherwise with people and beasts: It puts them to sleep. The narrator himself is lulled into dreams of a triumphant but mysterious return.

He awakes to find the captain buckling on his scimitar; they have arrived at Astahahn, where an open court surrounded by colonnades fronts the river and where the people follow ancient rites of dignity and solemnity; antiquity is the rule. The people ignore the passing ship, intent on their ancient rituals, but one bystander states that the occupation of the city is to preserve Time, in order to preserve the gods. These gods, moreover, are "all those . . . whom Time has not yet slain."

Beyond Astahahn the river widens, and a second evening descends. The sailors pray, as before, and the helmsman's prayer guides the ship onward into the dark. In the morning they have arrived at Perdondaris, a fine and celebrated place, welcome after the jungle. The captain is haggling with a fat merchant. The contest proceeds as if by script, with extravagant rhetorical gestures, the captain at one point threatening suicide because the price offered would disgrace him. Finally he entreats his lesser gods of Belzoond—whom he had previously threatened to loose on the city—and the merchant yields. The watching sailors applaud. The captain breaks out a cask of wine, and their thoughts are soon back home.

In the evening, the narrator visits the city, a formidable place with a massive, tower-surmounted wall bearing plaques advertising the fate of an army that once besieged it. However, the people are dancing in honor of "the god they know not," because a thunderstorm has terrified them with images of the fires of death. The narrator admires the wealth and prosperity of the city until he comes to the outer wall, where he finds a gate of ivory, carved out of one solid piece. He flees to the ship, fearing the wrath of the animal from which the tusk was taken but revealing his secret to no one.

Finally he tells the captain, who agrees that the gate is recent and that such a gigantic beast could not have been killed by a human. The captain decides to escape immediately. Later the narrator learns that some force has indeed wrecked the once mighty city in a single day.

Again they pass a night on the river. As before, the helmsman prays the helmsman's prayer, to whatever god is listening, beseeching safe return to all sailors. His voice rises above the silent river in the songs of Durl and Duz, and fair Belzoond. The narrator awakes to lifting mists and a broadened river tumbling as it mingles with the brawling Irillion from the crags of Glorm. Freshened, the river shrugs off the torpor of the jungle and sweeps through cliffs. It broadens again to wind through marshes, then reaches further mountains with a number of villages, passed by night to the helmsman's songs.

They pass more cities before arriving at Nen, the last great city, where they anchor. The Wanderers, a weird, dark tribe, are also in the town for their once-in-every-seven-years visit. These savages have taken over the city, dancing like dervishes, playing strange music, and performing feats of desert magic, to the consternation of the people of Nen.

The narrator must leave before he can hear the Wanderers' night-hymn, echoed by wolves on the heights surrounding the city. They sail on in silence under the setting sun, until they reach the Gate of Yann, formed by two barrier-cliffs at the mouth of the river, before the sea. Anchoring at the foot of the cliffs, they take a lingering farewell, for they sense that they will not meet again. The captain commends the soul of the narrator to his humble gods of Belzoond.