It reeked, my gods, it reeked and flowed along the canal beds, rose and fell in the shelter of the locks. Fish died and the goose was repelled by her eggs. It dried on the flanks of cows and sheep, and was carried off by flies. In the vineyards, it twined around rootstock and vine. The grapes, though fat and dewy, yielded fetid wines. No food was free of its taste and people forced themselves to eat only when they could no longer stand. The land was sodden as was the sea. Ships from abroad were warned away with banners, smoke and trumpets, but quite a few mistook these for signs of welcome and came ashore. Ramparts were built, nets were laid and many moats were dug. Soon the walls gave off hot blasts, the ropes upheld its filigree and the green sea became a steaming soup. The people, wild with impotence, stood great stones on end and built a temple. Many eagerly gave themselves to sacrifice, and their abundant blood stank. Let the praying was to no avail and clouds covered the fields. Mists slipped into the rivers and seeped through every door, both open and shit. Drink with it and weary, they finally succumbed. So slowly, through the cities and towns, in cottages and tents, the people sighed and wrapped it around them like a cloak, In time all resistance faded and only the very old could remember when life had been otherwise. From year to year there would be stories of a young woman rumored to be untouched. The wags claimed her hair smelled like flowers, the bread she baked had a sharp yeasty flavor and each fruits of her garden was a different hue. Some ragtag soldiers claimed she gave them water which tasted horrid and sickened them. These stories worried the priests and lords. They sent bands of mercenaries to search the countryside. Things went on as before and soon the rumors were forgotten, as is everything in time. The gods rewarded the land with tranquility and complacency. Then one day, to the portals of the capital city, came a young woman and a child, both of them wrapped in a foreign scent.