Madouc

CHAPTER SIX

At the end of summer, with the smell of autumn in the air, the royal family departed Sarris for Castle Haidion. There was no unanimity of feeling regarding the event. King Casmir left the informal style of life at Sarris with reluctance. Queen Sollace, on the other hand, could hardly wait to put the rustic deficiencies of Sarris behind her. Cassander cared little one way or the other; boon companions, flirtatious maidens, merry entertainments were as accessible at Haidion as at Sarris; perhaps more so. Princess Madouc, like King Casmir, departed Sarris with reluctance. She hinted to Lady Desdea, not once but several times, that conditions at Sarris suited her well, and that she would prefer not to return to Haidion at all. Lady Desdea paid no heed and Madouc's desires came to naught. Willy-filly, sullen and bored, Madouc was instructed into the royal carriage for the long ride back to Lyonesse Town. In a brave if hollow voice, Madouc stated her intention to ride Tyfer instead. She pointed out that everyone's convenience would thereby be served. Those riding in the carriage would enjoy more space, while Tyfer would benefit from the exercise. Lady Desdea heard the proposal with eyebrows high in cold amazement. "That is impossible, of course! It would be considered conduct most boisterous; the act of a hoyden! The folk of the countryside would stare in wonder-those who did not laugh outright-to see you trotting so proudly through the dust!"

"I had no plans to ride in the dust! I would just as lief ride in the van, ahead of the dust."

"And what a sight you would be, leading the cavalcade on your intrepid steed Tyfer! I am surprised that you do not choose to wear mail and carry a banner on high, like a prodrome of old!"

"I had nothing like this in mind; I only-"

Lady Desdea held up her hand. "Say no more! For once you must conduct yourself with dignity, and ride properly with Her Majesty. Your maidens will be allowed to sit beside you in the carriage, for your amusement."

"That is why I want to ride Tyfer."

"Impossible."

So went the arrangements. Despite Madouc's dissatisfaction, the carriage departed Sarris with Madouc sitting across from Queen Sollace, with Devonet and Chlodys on the seat to her left.

In due course the party arrived at Castle Haidion, and the ordinary routines of life were resumed. Madouc was housed as before in her old chambers, though suddenly they had become cramped and constricted, or so it seemed. "Odd!" thought Madouc. "In a single summer I have aged an entire era, and of course I have become far wiser. I wonder..." She put her hands to her chest, to feel two small pads of softness she had not previously noticed. She felt them again. They were definite.

"Hm," said Madouc. "I hope I do not grow to look like Chlodys."

The autumn passed, and then the winter. For Madouc the most noteworthy event was the retirement of Lady Desdea, on the plea of backache, nervous cramp and general malaise. Spiteful tongues whispered that Madouc's perverse antics and general intractability had at last conquered Lady Desdea and had made her ill. Indeed, during the late winter, Lady Desdea turned lemon-yellow, began to swell in the middle, and presently died of the dropsy.

Her successor was a noblewoman younger and more flexible: Lady Lavelle, third daughter to the Duke of Wysceog. Lady Lavelle, having taken note of past attempts to educate the obstreperous princess, changed tactics and dealt casually with Madouc. She took for granted-at least ostensibly-that Madouc, keen to her own advantage, would wish to learn the tricks, ploys and stratagems that would allow her to negotiate court protocol with the least inconvenience. Of course, as a prerequisite, Madouc must learn the conventions which she would be learning to avoid. So, despite herself and half-aware of Lady Lavelle's tactics, Madouc assimilated a smattering of court procedure and certain pretty little skills of genteel coquetry.

A series of storms brought howling winds and driving rains to Lyonesse Town, and Madouc was pent inside Haidion. After a month the storm abated, and the town was washed in a sudden flood of pale sunlight. After such long confinement Madouc felt impelled to go out and wander in the open air. With no better destination at hand, she decided to revisit the hidden garden where Suldrun had pined away her life.

Assuring herself that she went unseen Madouc hastened up the cloistered walk. Through the tunnel in Zoltra Bright-Star's Wall, then the rotting old portal, Madouc stepped into the garden. At the top of the vale she stopped to look and listen. She saw no living creature and heard no sound save the far muffled rush of the surf. Odd! thought Madouc. In the wan winter sunlight the garden seemed less melancholy than as she remembered it.

Madouc wandered down the trail to the beach. The surf, driven by the storms, reared high to crash heavily down upon the shingle. Madouc turned away to look up the vale. Suidrun's conduct seemed more incomprehensible than ever. According to Cassander she could not bring herself to face the dangers and hardships of life on the road. But what then? For a clever person, determined to survive, the dangers could be minimized and perhaps avoided. But Suldrun, timid and apathetic, had preferred to languish in the hidden garden and so at last she had died.

"As for me," Madouc told herself, "I would have been over the fence in a trice! After that, I would pretend to be a boy and also a leper. I would feign sores on my face, to disgust anyone who came near me, and those who were not disgusted, I would stab with a knife! Had I been Suldrun, I would be alive today!"

Madouc soberly started up the path. There were lessons to be learned from those tragic events of the past. First, Suldrun had hoped for King Casmir's mercy, which had not been forthcoming. The significance was clear. A princess of Lyonesse must marry as Casmir desired or else incur his merciless displeasure. Madouc grimaced. The correspondence between Suldrun's case and her own was much too close for comfort. Still, displeasure or not, King Casmir must be persuaded not to involve her in his schemes of empire.

Madouc left the garden, and returned down the way to the castle. Out over the Lir a bank of black clouds was approaching fast, and even as Madouc approached the castle, a damp gust of wind struck at her, whipping the skirt around her legs. The day grew dark and the new storm arrived with thunder, lightning and rain. Madouc wondered if winter would ever end.

A week passed and another, and at last the sun drove shafts of light down through the clouds. The next day dawned sparkling clear. King Casmir, himself oppressed by the bad weather, decided to take the air with Queen Sollace, and in the process show themselves to the folk of Lyonesse Town. He ordered out the ‘ceremonial carriage, which presently pulled up in front of the castle. The royal family took their places: King Casmir and Queen Sollace facing forward; Prince Cassander and Princess Madouc stiffly opposite.

The procession set off: a herald holding high the royal arms, consisting of a black Tree of Life on a white field, with a dozen scarlet pomegranates hanging from the branches. Next rode three men-at-arms in chain corselets and iron helmets, holding halberds high, followed by the open carriage with its royal cargo. Another three men-at-arms, riding abreast, brought up the rear.

The procession moved down the Sfer Arct-slowly, so that the townspeople might rush out to stare and point and raise an occasional cheer. At the foot of the Sfer Arct, the procession turned to the right and continued around the Chale to the site of the new cathedral. Here the carriage halted and the royal party alighted, so that they might inspect the progress of construction. Almost at once they were approached by Father Umphred. The meeting was not accidental. Father Umphred and Queen Sollace had calculated at length how best to engage King Cas mir'sinterest in the cathedral. Father Umphred, in pursuance of their plans, now bustled importantly forward and proposed a tour of the half-finished construction.

King Casmir gave him a curt response. "I can see well enough from here."

"As Your Majesty desires! Still, the full scope of Sollace Sanctissima might be more pleasurably apparent upon closer view."

King Casmir glanced across the site. "Your sect is not numerous. The structure is far too large for its purpose."

"We earnestly believe to the contrary," said Father Umphred cheerfully. "In any event, is not magnificence and grandeur more suitable for the Sollace Sanctissima than some makeshift little chapel of sticks and mud?"

"I am impressed by neither one nor the other," said King Casmir. "I have heard that in Rome and Ravenna the churches are crammed so full with gold ornaments and jeweled gewgaws that they lack space for aught else. Be assured that never a penny from the Royal Exchequer of Lyonesse will be spent on such bedizenry."

Father Umphred forced a laugh. "Your Majesty, I submit that the cathedral will enrich the city, rather than the reverse. By this same token, a splendid cathedral will do the same, only faster." Father Umphred gave a delicate cough. "You must remember that at Rome and Ravenna the gold came not from those who built the cathedrals but those who came to worship."

"Ha!" King Casmir was interested despite his prejudices. "And how is this miracle accomplished?"

"There is no mystery. The worshippers hope to attract the favorable attention of Divinity by making a financial contribution." Father Umphred turned out his hands. "Who knows? The belief may be well-founded! No one has proved otherwise."

"Hmf."

"One thing is certain! Every pilgrim arriving at Lyonesse Town will depart enriched in spirit, though poorer in worldly goods."

King Casmir appraised the unfinished cathedral as if with a new vision. "How do you hope to attract wealthy and munificent pilgrims?"

"Some will come to worship and to participate in the rites. Others will sit in the hush of the great nave for hours, as if steeping themselves in a holy suffusion. Others will come to marvel at our relics, to feel the awe of their presence. These relics are of signal importance, and attract pilgrims from far and wide with great efficacy."

‘Relics'? What relics are these? To my knowledge we have none."

"It is an interesting subject," said Father Umphred. "Relics are of many sorts, and might be classified into several categories. The first and most precious are those directly associated with the Lord Jesus Christ. In the second rank and very excellent we find objects associated with one or another of the Holy Apostles. In the third rank, often most precious and most rare, are relics from antiquity: for instance, the stone with which David slew Goliath, or one of Shadrach's sandals, with scorch-marks on the sole. In the fourth rank, and still very fine, are objects associated with one or another of the saints. There are also what I shall call incidental relics, interesting because of association rather than holy essence. For instance, a claw of the bear which devoured Saint Candolphus, or a bangle from the arm of the prostitute Jesus defended before the temple, or a desiccated ear from one of the Gadarene swine. Unfortunately, many of the best and most wonderful relics have vanished, or were never collected. On the other hand, articles of guaranteed quality sometimes appear and are even offered for sale. One must take care, of course, when making such purchases."

King Casmir pulled at his beard. "How can you know that any of the relics are genuine?"

Father Umphred pursed his lips. "If a false item were placed in sanctified surroundings, a divine lightning-bolt would strike down to destroy the factitious article and also the perpetrator of the hoax, or so I have been told. Further, the debased heretic would languish forever in the deepest pits of Hell! This is well known and is our safeguard and our surety!"

"Hmmf. Does this divine lightning-bolt descend often?"

"I have no knowledge as to the number of such cases."

"So how do you propose to acquire your relics?"

"By various means. Some will come as gifts; we will dispatch agents to seek out others. The most cherished relic of all is the Holy Grail, which the Saviour used at his Last Supper, and which also was used by Joseph of Arimathea to catch the blood from the divine wounds. Later he brought it to Glastonbury Abbey in Britain; thence it was taken to a sacred island on Lough I Corrib in Ireland. Thence it was brought to the Elder Isles to preserve it safe from the pagans, but its present whereabouts is unknown."

"That is an interesting tale," said King Casmir. "You would be well-advised to seek this ‘Grail' for your display."

"We can only hope and dream! If the Grail came into our possession, we would instantly become the proudest church of Christendom."

Queen Sollace could not control a small cry of excitement. She turned her great moist eyes upon King Casmir. "My lord, is it not clear? We must have the best and most excellent relics; nothing else will suffice!"

King Casmir gave a stony shrug. "Do as you like, so long as you make no draft upon the royal exchequer. That is my unswerving resolve."

"But is it not clear? Any small sums paid out now will be returned a hundred times over! And all will go for the greater glory of our wonderful cathedral!"

"Precisely so!" Father Umphred used his richest tones. "As always, dear lady, you have uttered the wise and incisive comment!"

"Let us go back to the carriage," said King Casmir. "I have seen all I care to see and heard rather more."

II

The months of the year went their way and winter became spring. The period was enlivened by a variety of events. Prince Cassander became involved in an untidy scandal and was sent off to Fort Mael, close under the Blaloc border, to cool his heels and to reflect upon his misdeeds.

From South Ulfand came news of Torqual. He had led out his band on a foray against the isolated and apparently undefended Framm Keep, only to encounter an ambush laid by troops of the Ulfish army. In the skirmish Torqual lost the greater part of his band and was lucky to have escaped with his life.

Another event, of moment to Madouc herself, was the betrothal of her agreeable and apparently casual preceptress Lady Lavelle. Preparations for the wedding to Sir Garstang of Twanbow Hall necessitated her departure from Haidion and return to Pridart Place.

Madouc's new preceptress was Lady Vosse, spinster daughter to Casmir's second cousin Lord Vix of Wildmay Fourtower, near Slute Skeme. Unkind rumor suggested that Lady Vosse had been fathered by a vagabond Goth during one of Lord Vix's absences from Wildmay Fourtower; whatever the truth of the case, Lady Vosse in no way resembled her three younger sisters, who were slender, dark of hair, gentle of disposition and sufficiently well- favored to attract husbands for themselves. Lady Vosse, in contrast, was tall, iron-gray of hair, heavy of bone, with a square granitic face, gray eyes staring from under iron-gray eyebrows and a disposition deficient in those easy casual qualities which had commended Lady Lavelle to Madouc.

Three days after the departure of Lady Lavelle, Queen Sollace summoned Madouc to her chambers. "Step forward, Madouc! This is Lady Vosse, who is to assume the duties which I fear were somewhat scamped by Lady Lavelle. Your instruction will henceforth be supervised by Lady Vosse."

Madouc glanced sidelong at Lady Vosse. "Please, Your Majesty, I feel that such supervision is no longer needed."

"I would be happy if it were so. In any case Lady Vosse will ensure that you are proficient in the proper categories. Like myself, she will be satisfied only with excellence, and you must dedicate all your energies to this end!"

Lady Vosse said: "Lady Lavelle, so I am told, was lax in her standards, and failed to drive home the exactitude of each lesson. The victim of such laxity, sadly enough, is Princess Madouc, who fell into the habit of frittering away her time."

Queen Sollace said: "I am pleased to hear these words of dedication! Madouc has never taken kindly to precision, or discipline. I am sure, Lady Vosse, that you will remedy this lack."

"I will do my best." Lady Vosse turned to Madouc. "Princess, I demand no miracles! You need only do your best!"

"Just so," said Queen Sollace. "Madouc, do you understand this new principle?"

Madouc said bravely: "Let me ask this. Am I the royal princess?"

"Well, yes, of course."

"In that case, Lady Vosse must obey my royal commands and teach me what I wish to learn."

"Ha hah!" said Queen Sollace. "Your arguments are valid to a certain point, but you are still too inexperienced to know what is best for you. Lady Vosse is most wise in this regard, and will direct your education."

"But Your Highness, if you please! This might be the wrong education! Must I learn to be like Lady Vosse!"

Lady Vosse spoke in a measured voice: "You will learn what I choose to teach! You will learn it well! And you will be the better for it!"

Queen Sollace waved her hand. "That is all, Madouc. You may go. There is no more to be said on the subject."

Almost at once Madouc's conduct gave Lady Vosse cause for complaint. "I intend to waste neither time nor soft words with you. Let us have an understanding: either obey my instructions exactly and without quibble, or I shall go on the instant to Queen Sollace and ask her permission to beat you properly."

"That would be incorrect conduct," Madouc pointed out.

"It would happen in private and no one would know, save you and me. Further, no one would care-save you and me. I advise you: beware! The privilege may well be allowed to me, and I would welcome it, since your contumacity is as offensive as your smirking insolence!"

Madouc spoke primly: "These remarks are outrageous, and I forbid you to enter my presence again until you apologize! Also, I demand that you bathe more often, since you smell of goat, or something similar. You are dismissed for the day."

Lady Vosse stared at Madouc with a lax jaw. She turned on her heel and departed the room. An hour later Madouc was summoned to the chambers of Queen Sollace, where she went slack-footed and heavy with foreboding. She found Queen Sollace sitting in an upholstered chair while Ermelgart brushed her hair. To one side stood Father Umphred, reading from a book of psalms. To the other side, silent and still on a bench, sat Lady Vosse.

Queen Sollace spoke in a peevish voice: "Madouc, I am displeased with you. Lady Vosse has described your insolence and your insubordination. Both would seem to be studied and deliberate! What have you to say for yourself?"

"Lady Vosse is not a nice person."

Queen Sollace gave an incredulous laugh. "Even were your opinion correct, what is the consequence, so long as she does her duty?"

Madouc essayed a cheerful rejoinder. "It is she who is guilty of insolence to me, a royal princess! She must apologize at this moment, or I will order her treated to a good whisking. Father Umphred may wield the whisk, for all of me, so long as he strikes strong, often and true to the mark."

"Tchah!" cried Lady Vosse in shock. "What nonsense the child does prattle! Is she mad?"

Father Umphred could not restrain a fruity chuckle. Lady Vosse turned him an icy gray glance, and Father Umphred abruptly fell silent.

Queen Sollace spoke sternly: "Madouc, your wild talk has amazed us all! Remember! Lady Vosse acts in my stead; when you disobey her, you disobey me! Apparently you will not allow your hair to be properly coiffed nor will you abandon those rude garments which you are wearing at this instant. Faugh! They are suitable for a peasant boy, but not a dainty royal princess!"

"Agreed!" said Lady Vosse. "She is no longer a young child, but a budding maiden, and now must observe the proprieties."

Madouc blew out her cheeks. "I do not like my hair pulled up so high that my eyes bulge. As for my clothes, I wear what is sensible! Why wear a fine gown to the stables only to drag the hem in manure?"

Queen Sollace spoke sharply: "In that case, you must avoid the stables! Do you see me roistering about among the horses, or Lady Vosse sitting familiarly by the dungheap? Of course not! We observe the gentilities of rank and place! As for your hair, Lady Vosse correctly wants to coif it in a fashionable style, and teach you courtly demeanour, so that the young gallants will not think you a freak when they meet you at a ball or a charade."

"They will not think me a freak, because I will not be present, either at ball or charade."

Queen Sollace stared fixedly at Madouc. "You will be on hand if you are so instructed. Soon there will be serious talk of betrothal, and you must appear to advantage. Always remember: you are Princess Madouc of Lyonesse and so you must seem."

"Precisely so!" said Madouc. "I am Princess Madouc, of high rank and authority! I have ordered a whisking for Lady Vosse. Let us see to it at this very moment!"

"Yes," said Queen Sollace grimly. "I shall see to it. Ermelgart, from the besom pluck me five long withes; let them be both stout and supple."

Ermelgart hastened to obey.

"Yes, these will do nicely," said Queen Sollace. "Now then, let us proceed to the whisking! Madouc! Come hither!"

"What for?"

Queen Sollace swished the whisk back and forth. "I am not keen for this sort of thing; it sets me in a sweat. Still, a task worth doing is worth doing well. Come hither, and remove your lower garments."

Madouc spoke in quavering tones: "I would feel foolish doing as you suggest. It is far more sensible to stand as far as possible from you and your whisk."

"Do you defy me?" bellowed Queen Sollace. She heaved herself to her feet. "I shall put this whisk to good use!" Throwing back her robe with a sweep of her heavy white arm, Sollace marched forward. Father Umphred, book of psalms dangling from his fingers, stood beaming; Lady Vosse sat straight and stern. Madouc looked right and left in despair. Once again in justice seemed ascendant, with everyone eager to crush her pride!

Madouc licked her lips, worked her fingers and uttered a soft hiss. Queen Sollace stood limp-kneed and quivering, mouth agape, arms shaking, fingers twitching so that the whisk dropped away, while her teeth chattered like pebbles shaken in a box. Father Umphred, still wearing his benign smile, uttered a gurgling squeak; then, chattering like an angry squirrel, he hunched low, stamping and kicking as if performing a Celtic jig. Ermelgart and Lady Vosse, both off to the side, were jarred and shaken, but evinced only a desultory chattering and grinding of the teeth.

Madouc placidly turned and started from the room, only to encounter the bulk of King Casmir. He halted in the doorway. "What is amiss? Why is everyone so wild and so strange?"

Father Umphred spoke plaintively: "Sire, Princess Madouc has learned witch-tricks; she knows a sleight to set us into a fit of confusion, so that our teeth rattle and our brains reel like spinning hoops."

Queen Sollace spoke in a plangent croak: "Father Umphred states the truth! Madouc hisses, or sings a whistling song-I was too unnerved to notice-and instantly our bones turned to jelly, and all our teeth rang and clattered and resounded again and again!"

King Casmir looked down at Madouc. "What is the truth of this?"

Madouc said pensively: "I believe that Queen Sollace took bad advice and started to beat me, then was deterred by her own true kindness. It was Lady Vosse for whom I ordered the whisking; I hope that you will see to it now."

"A farrago of nonsense!" blurted Lady Vosse. "This mad little imp hissed and we were all forced to chatter and jump!"

"Well then, Madouc?" demanded King Casmir.

"It is nothing of consequence." Madouc tried to edge around Casmir's bulk, so that she might gain the door. "Sire, excuse me, if you please."

"I do not so please! Certainly not until matters are clarified for my understanding! What is this ‘hissing' that you do?"

"It is a small knack, Your Highness-no more."

‘A small knack'?" cried Queen Sollace. "My teeth still wamble and pulse! If you recall, Lady Desdea complained of similar events at Sarris!"

Casmir frowned down at Madouc. "Where did you learn this trick?"

Madouc said bravely: "Sire, best for everyone's comfort if we regard the matter as my personal secret."

Casmir looked down in astonishment. "Impudence again? Condescension from a foxen fluff of a girl! Ermelgart, bring me the whisk."

Madouc tried to dodge and dart through the doorway, but King Casmir seized her and bent her over his leg. When she tried to hiss, he clapped his hand to her mouth, then thrust a kerchief between her teeth. Taking the whisk from Ermelgart, he struck six majestic strokes, so that the withes whistled through the air.

King Casmir released his grip. Madouc slowly righted her self, tears of humiliation and rage coursing down her cheeks. King Casmir asked in a heavily sardonic voice: "And what do you think of that, Miss Sly-Boots?"

Madouc stood holding both hands to her smarting haunches. "I think that I will ask my mother for some new tricks."

Casmir opened his mouth, then suddenly became still. After a tense moment he said: "Your mother is dead."

Madouc in her fury thought only to detach herself in utter totality from both Casmir and Sollace. "My mother was not Suldrun, and you know this full well."

"What are you saying?" roared Casmir, standing back. "Is this more impudence?"

Madouc sniffed and decided to say no more.

Casmir blustered on: "If I say your mother is dead, she is dead! Do you want another beating?"

"My mother is the fairy Twisk," said Madouc. "Beat me as you like; it changes nothing. As for my father, he remains a mystery, and I still lack a pedigree."

"Hm hah," said Casmir, thinking over this and that. "Quite so. A pedigree is something everyone should have."

"I am happy that you agree, since one of these days I intend to search out my own."

"Unnecessary!" declared Casmir bluffly. "You are Princess Madouc and your pedigree or its lack need never be called into question."

"A fine long pedigree is better than its lack."

"Just so." Casmir looked around the chamber, to find all eyes fixed upon him. He signalled to Madouc. "Come."

King Casmir led the way to his private sitting room. He pointed to a sofa. "Be seated."

Madouc perched herself gingerly upon the cushions, to the best possible easement of her pain, watching King Casmir warily all the while. King Casmir paced up the length of the room, then back. Madouc's parentage was irrelevant; so long as no one knew the facts. Princess Madouc could be used to cement a valuable alliance. Madouc the changeling waif lacked all value in this regard. Casmir stopped short in his tracks. "You suspect, then, that Suldrun was not your mother?"

"My mother is Twisk. She is alive and she is a fairy."

"I will be frank," said Casmir. "Indeed we knew you for a changeling, but you were so bonny a baby that we could not put you aside. We took you to our hearts as ‘Princess Madouc'. That is how it is today. You enjoy all the privileges of true royalty, and of course the obligations, as well." Casmir's voice changed a degree or two in timbre, and he watched Madouc covertly. "Unless, of course, Suldrun's true-born son came forward to claim his birthright. What do you know of him?"

Madouc wriggled to lessen the throbbing of her scantily padded buttocks. "I asked about my pedigree, but to no avail."

"You did not learn the fate of your counterpart-the changeling who would be Suldrun's son, and just your own age?"

With great effort Madouc quelled a gleeful laugh. A year in the fairy shee meant time far longer in the outside world perhaps seven years, or eight, or nine; no exact correspondence could be made. Casmir had no inkling of the case. "He is nothing to me," said Madouc. "Perhaps he still haunts the shee. Or he may well be dead; the Forest of Tantrevalles is a perilous place."

King Casmir asked sharply: "Why are you smiling?"

"It is a wince of pain," said Madouc. "Do you not remember? You struck me six vicious blows. I remember well."

With narrowed eyes King Casmir asked: "And what do you mean by that?"

Madouc looked up, blue eyes innocent. "I use no special meaning other than the words themselves. Is that not the way you talk?"

King Casmir frowned. "Now then! Let us not maunder and gloom over past grievances! Many happy times lie ahead. To be a princess of Lyonesse is an excellent thing!"

"I hope that you will explain this to Lady Vosse, so that she will obey my orders or, better, return to Wildmay Fourtowers."

King Casmir cleared his throat. "As to that, who knows? Queen Sollace perhaps has a preference. Aha, then, harrumph! Naturally we cannot flaunt our secrets far and wide, for the vulgar interest. Away would fly your chances for a grand marriage! Therefore, we will bury these facts deep in obscurity. I will speak to Ermelgart, the priest and Lady Vosse; they will not gossip. And as always, you are the charming Princess Madouc, full and whole, whom we all love so well."

"I feel sick," said Madouc. "I think I will go now." She rose to her feet and went to the door. Here she paused to look back over her shoulder, to find King Casmir watching her with a brooding expression, legs apart, arms behind his heavy torso.

Madouc said softly: "Please do not forget; I want no more of Lady Vosse; she has proved herself a disgrace and a failure."

King Casmir only grunted: a sound signifying almost any thing. Madouc turned and left the room.

III

Spring became summer, but this year there would be no removal to Sarris. The decision had been dictated by affairs of state, King Casmir having become involved in a dangerous game which must be controlled with precision and finesse.

The game had been initiated by a sudden turmoil in the Kingdom of Blaloc. Casmir hoped to manipulate events to his advantage, so blandly that neither King Audry nor King Aillas could reasonably make protest.

The troubles in Blaloc stemmed from a debility suffered by King Milo. After long dedication to the joys of tankard, tun and beaker, he had at last succumbed to swollen joints, gout and bloat of the liver, and now lay in the dark, apparently moribund, speaking only in grunts. For nourishment the doctors allowed him only raw egg beaten into buttermilk and an occasional oyster, but the regimen seemed to have little beneficial effect.

Of King Milo's three sons, only the youngest, Prince Brezante, had survived, and was now heir-apparent to the throne. Brezante lacked force of character and for a variety of reasons was unpopular with many of the grandees. Others, loyal to King Milo and the House of Valeu, gave Brezante lukewarm support. As King Milo continued to decline, the factions became ever more definite in their postures and there was ominous talk of civil strife.

King Milo's authority dwindled by the day, in step with his health, and dukes of the outer provinces ruled their fiefs like independent monarchs. From these troubled circumstances King Casmir hoped to work profit for himself. He contrived a series of small but irking provocations between his own border barons and those dissident dukes whose lands were convenient for the exercise. Every day some small new foray was made into Blaloc from the remote corners of Lyonesse. Sooner or later, so Casmir hoped, one or another of the hot-headed Blaloc dukes, jealous of his prerogatives, would be prompted into a retaliation-whereupon Casmir, on the pretext of maintaining order, keeping the peace and supporting the rule of King Milo, could dispatch an overwhelming force from the nearby Fort Mael and gain control over Blaloc. Then, responding to the prayers of those factions opposed to Prince Brezante, King Casmir would graciously accede to assuming the crown of Blaloc, thereby joining Blaloc to Lyonesse. And neither King Audry of Dahaut nor King Aillas of Troicinet could accuse him of extraordinary conduct.

Days passed, and weeks, with King Casmir playing a most delicate and cautious game. The dissident dukes of Blaloc, while infuriated by the raids from Lyonesse, sensed the dangers of reprisal, and bided their time. At Twissamy, Prince Brezante, recently wed to a young princess from the Kingdom of Bor in South Wales, detached himself from his matrimonial duties long enough to notice that all was not well across the land. Noblemen loyal to King Milo inveighed upon him, until at last he sent off dispatches to King Audry and King Aillas, alerting them to the peculiar rash of forays, raids and provocations current along the Lyonesse border.

King Audry's response was couched in general terms. He suggested that King Milo and Prince Brezante might have misinterpreted a few untoward but probably insignificant incidents. He counseled Prince Brezante to discretion. "Above all, we must be suspicious of sudden guesses or presumptions- ‘jumps into the dark' is my own style of expressing the case. These sudden acts are often bootless and perfervid. Every falling acorn should not send us forth to complain that the sky is falling. This principle of strong and even statesmanship is my personal preference, and I endorse it to you, in the hope that you may find it equally useful. In any case, be assured of our benevolent good wishes."

King Aillas responded differently. He sailed from Domreis with a flotilla of nine warships on what he announced to be ‘naval maneuvers'. As if on sudden impulse he paid an unscheduled visit to Lyonesse Town aboard the Sangranada, a galleass of three masts.

With the Sangranada standing offshore, Aillas sent a boat into the harbour with a dispatch for King Casmir, requesting permission to enter the harbour. His visit, he stated, since it was fortuitous, would be informal and devoid of ceremony; still he hoped to exchange views with King Casmir on matters of mutual interest.

Permission to enter the harbour was at once forthcoming; the Sangranada eased through the harbour entrance and was warped alongside the dock. The remainder of the flotilla lay offshore, anchoring in the open roadstead. With a small entourage Aillas and Dhrun disembarked from the Sangranada. King Casmir awaited them in his state carriage; the group rode up the Sfer Arct to Castle Haidion.

Along the way Casmir expressed concern for the ships anchored out along the roadstead. "So long as the wind is light and offshore or from the west, there is no danger. But should the wind shift, your ships must instantly put to sea."

"Our stay will be short for that reason," said Aillas. "Still, the weather should hold for a day or two."

"It is a pity you must leave so soon," said Casmir politely. "Perhaps there will be time to arrange a tournament of jousting. You and Prince Dhrun might even care to participate."

"Not I," said Aillas. "The sport consists of taking hard knocks and bruises, then falling from one's horse. I have no taste for it."

"And Dhrun?"

"I am far more apt with the diabolo."

"As you like," said King Casmir. "Our entertainment, then, will be quite informal."

"That suits me very well," said Aillas. As always, when he spoke with King Casmir, he marvelled at his own capacity for dissimulation, since in all the world there was no one he hated more than Casmir. "Still, since the winds have kindly blown us to your shores, we might spend a profitable hour or two discussing the way of the world."

King Casmir assented. "So it shall be."

Aillas and Dhrun were conducted to chambers in the East Tower, where they bathed, changed their garments, then went to dine with the royal family. For the occasion Casmir chose to use the Green Hall, so-called for the panels of green-stained willow and the great rug, gray-green with a scattering of red flowers.

Aillas and Dhrun, arriving in the Green Hall, found the royal family already on hand. No other guests were present; the dinner evidently was to be completely informal. King Casmir stood by the fireplace, cracking walnuts, eating the meats and hurling the shells into the fire. Sollace sat placidly nearby, statuesque as always, her coils of blonde hair confined in a net of pearls. Madouc stood to the side, staring into the fire, her expression remote and her thoughts apparently far away. She had allowed herself to be dressed in a dark blue frock with a white frill at the neck; a white ribbon bound her hair, so that the copper-gold curls lay in ordered locks, framing her face to advantage. Dame Etarre, who supervised Madouc's wardrobe (Madouc would not allow Lady Vosse into her chambers), had reported to Queen Sollace: "For once she has allowed herself to seem something other than a wild thing."

Lady Vosse, who stood nearby, grunted. "Her moods are unfathomable."

"I refuse to speculate," said Queen Sollace with a sniff. "Thank you, Dame Etarre; you may go." Dame Etarre bowed and left the chamber. Queen Sollace went on to say: "What with her highly dubious background-this, of course, we are not allowed to discuss-her volatility should come as no surprise."

"The situation is extraordinary," said Lady Vosse heavily. "Still, the king's orders are clear and it is not for me to doubt their wisdom."

"There is no mystery involved," said Queen Sollace. "We hope to marry her to advantage. Meanwhile, we must bear with her quirks."

Sitting in the Green Hall, Queen Sollace gave Madouc a covert appraisal. She would never be a real beauty, thought Sollace, though admittedly she exerted a certain jaunty appeal. There was simply not enough of her in the places where it mattered, nor was there any promise that such endowments would ever be hers. A pity, thought Sollace comfortably. Ripeness and amplitude were the first and most essential ingredients of true comeliness. Men liked to grasp something substantial when in a mood to do so: this was Queen Sollace's experience.

Upon the arrival of Aillas and Dhrun, the party took their places at the table: King Casmir at one end, King Aillas opposite, Queen Sollace to one side, Dhrun and Madouc to the other. The dinner, as Casmir had promised, was a relatively simple repast: salmon poached in wine, a peasant stew of woodcock, onions and barley; boiled sheep's head with parsley and currants; ducks roasted with a stuffing of olives and turnips; a haunch of venison served with red sauce; a dessert of cheeses, pickled tongue, pears and apples.

Madouc sat pensively, taking only a fragment of fowl, a swallow of wine, and a few grapes from the centerpiece. To Dhrun's attempts at conversation, Madouc responded without spontaneity, so that Dhrun became puzzled-unless, he speculated, this might be her ordinary conduct in the presence of the king and queen.

The meal came to its conclusion. For a period the party sat sipping that sweet soft wine known as Fialorosa, served in the squat traditional goblets of purple glass, twisted and warped into engaging shapes so that no two were alike. At last, King Casmir signalled his intention to retire, the party rose from their chairs, bade each other goodnight and went off to their respective chambers.

In the morning, Aillas and Dhrun breakfasted at leisure in a small sunny morning parlour adjoining their chambers. Presently Sir Mungo the High Seneschal appeared with the message that King Casmir would be pleased to confer with King Aillas at his convenience-immediately, if he felt so inclined. Aillas acquiesced to the proposal and Sir Mungo conducted him to the king's sitting room, where Casmir rose to meet him.

"Will you sit?" asked Casmir. He indicated a chair. Aillas bowed and seated himself; Casmir settled into a similar chair nearby. At Casmir's sign, Sir Mungo retired.

"This is not only a pleasant occasion," said Aillas. "It also allows us an opportunity to exchange views. We are not often in communication."

Casmir assented. "Yes, the world remains in its place. Our deficiency has caused no grand cataclysm."

"Still, the world changes and one year is never like the next. With communication between us, and coordination of our policies, we would, at the very least, avoid the risk of surprising one another."

King Casmir gave an affable wave of the hand. "It is a persuasive idea, if over-elaborate. Life in Lyonesse moves at a hum drum pace."

"Just so. It is amazing how some small or humdrum episode, trivial in itself, can cause an important event."

King Casmir asked cautiously: "Are you referring to any specific event?"

"Nothing in particular. Last month I learned that King Sigismondo the Goth intended to land a war party on the north shore of Wysrod, where he would take up lands and defy King Audry. He was deterred only because his advisers assured him that he would instantly be engaged by the full might of Troicinet, as well as the Daut armies, and would face certain disaster. Sigismondo drew back, and is now considering an expedition against the Kingdom of Kharesm."

Casmir thoughtfully stroked his beard. "I heard nothing of this."

"Odd," said Aillas. "Your agents are notoriously efficient."

"You are not alone in fearing surprises," said Casmir with a sour smile.

"Extraordinary that you should say so! Last night my mind was active and I lay awake formulating plans by the dozen. One of these I wish to submit to you. In effect, and to use your words, it would remove the component of fear from surprises."

Casmir asked skeptically: "What sort of proposal might this be?"

"I suggest quick consultation in the event of emergency, such as a Gothic incursion, or any other breach of the peace, with an eye to coordinated response."

"Ha hm," said Casmir. "Your scheme might well be cumbersome."

Aillas gave a polite laugh. "I hope that I have not exaggerated the scope of my ideas. They are not much different from the goals which I established last year. The Elder Isles are at peace; we must ensure, you and I, that this peace persists. Last year my envoys offered defensive alliances to every realm of the Elder Isles. Both King Kestrel of Pomperol and King Milo of Blaloc accepted our guarantees; we will therefore defend them against attack. King Milo, so I am told, is ill and also must contend with his disloyal dukes. For this reason the flotilla now at anchor in the roadstead will immediately make sail for Blaloc, in order to indicate our confidence in King Milo, and give pause to his enemies. I will show no mercy to anyone who tries to subvert his rule or its orderly transition. Blaloc must remain independent."

Casmir for a space had no comment to make. Then he said: "Such solitary excursions might be misunderstood."

"I am concerned on just this account. Hence I would be happy to gain your endorsement for the program, in which case there would be no mistakes, and King Milo's enemies would be defeated out of hand."

King Casmir smiled a quizzical smile. "They might argue that their cause is just."

"More likely they hope to curry favor with some speculative new regime, which could only result in trouble. There is no need for any but a legitimate succession to the throne."

"Unfortunately, Prince Brezante is something of a weak reed and is not everywhere popular. Hence the disturbances inside Blaloc."

"Prince Brezante is adequate to the needs of Blaloc, which are not demanding. Naturally we would prefer King Milo's full recovery."

"His prospects are poor. Now he takes only a single quail egg poached in buttermilk for his meal. But are we not straying from the subject? What is your proposal?"

"I will point out the obvious, that our two realms are the most powerful of the Elder Isles. I propose that we issue a joint protocol guaranteeing territorial integrity everywhere through out the Elder Isles. The effects of such a doctrine would be profound."

King Casmir's face had become a stony mask. "Your goals do you credit, but certain of your assumptions may be unrealistic."

"I make only one assumption of any importance," said Aillas. "I assume that you are as dedicated to peace as I am. There is no other possibility save the reverse: that you are not dedicated to peace, which is of course absurd."

King Casmir showed a small sardonic smile. "All very well, but would not your doctrine be considered somewhat vague, or even naive?"

"I think not," said Aillas. "The central idea is clear enough. A potential aggressor would be deterred for fear of certain defeat, along with punishment and an end to his dynasty.

"I will certainly give your proposal careful consideration," said King Casmir woodenly.

"I expect no more," said Aillas.

IV

While Aillas expounded his implausible schemes to King Casmir, Dhrun and Madouc went out upon the front terrace and stood leaning against the balustrade. Below them was the quadrangle known as the ‘King's Parade' and, beyond, all of Lyonesse Town. Today, despite Lady Vosse's disapproval, Madouc wore her ordinary garments: a knee-length frock of oatmeal- colored nubble-cloth, belted at the waist. A band of plaited blue cord bound her curls, with a tassel dangling beside her left ear; she wore sandals on her bare feet.

Dhrun found the tassel intriguing and was moved to comment: "You wear that tassel with remarkable flair."

Madouc pretended indifference and made a flippant gesture. "It is nothing much: a caprice, no more."

"It is a distinctly jaunty caprice, with more than a hint of fairy panache. Your mother Twisk might well wear that tassel with pride."

Madouc gave her head a doubtful shake. "When I saw her she wore neither tassels nor ties, and her hair floated like a blue fog." Madouc considered a moment. "Of course, I am not well acquainted with fairy fashions. There is not much fairy stuff left in me."

Dhrun inspected her from head to toe. "I would not be too sure on that account."

Madouc shrugged. "Remember: I never lived among the fairies; I have eaten no fairy bread, nor drunk fairy wine. The fairy stuff-"

"It is called ‘soum'. It is true that the ‘soum' drains away, leaving only human dross behind."

Madouc looked reflectively out over the town. "All taken with all, I do not like to think of myself as ‘human dross'."

"Of course not! Never would I consider you such!"

"I am pleased to hear your good opinion," said Madouc modestly.

"You knew it before," said Dhrun. "Also, if I may say so, I am relieved to see you in good spirits. Last night you were almost morose. I wondered if you were bored with the company."

"Was my mood so apparent?"

"You seemed, at the very least, subdued."

"Still, I was not bored."

"Why were you unhappy?"

Once again Madouc looked out over the vista. "Must I explain the truth?"

"I will take my chances," said Dhrun. "I can only hope that your remarks are not too corrosive. Tell me the truth."

"I am the one who takes chances," said Madouc. "But I am reckless and I know no better. The truth is this: I was so pleased to see you that I became sick and miserable."

"Remarkable!" said Dhrun. "And when I leave, sorrow will cause you to sing and dance for sheer merriment."

Madouc said dolefully: "You are laughing at me."

"No. Not really."

"Then why are you smiling?"

"I think there is more fairy stuff in you than you suspect."

Madouc gave a thoughtful nod, as if Dhrun had addressed certain of her own suspicions. "You lived long at Thripsey Shee; you yourself should be charged with fairy stuff."

"Sometimes I fear as much. A human child too long at the shee becomes addled and moonstruck. Thereafter he is good for nothing but to play wild music on the pipes. When he starts up a jig, the folk can never leave off dancing; they must hop and skip till their shoes wear out."

Madouc gave Dhrun a wondering examination. "You do not seem moonstruck to me-though I am no proper judge. By chance, do you play the pipes?"

Dhrun nodded. "For a time I piped tunes for a troupe of dancing cats. That was long ago. It would not be considered dignified now."

"When you played, did people dance without restraint? If so, I would like you to play, as if by casual impulse, for the king and queen and Lady Vosse. Sir Mungo also might be helped by a few capers, and also Zerling the executioner."

"I did not bring my pipes," said Dhrun. "The fairy waft is draining away, and my temperament has become somewhat dull. Perhaps I am not moonstruck after all."

"Do you often think of the shee?"

"Occasionally. But the memories are blurred, as if I were recalling a dream."

"Do you remember my mother Twisk?"

"Not well; in fact, not at all. I remember King Throbius and Queen Bossum, and also an imp named Falael who was jealous of me. I remember festivals in the moonlight and sitting in the grass making flower chains."

"Would you like to visit the shee again?"

Dhrun gave his head an emphatic shake. "They would think I had come for favors and play me a dozen wicked tricks."

"The shee is not far away?"

"It is north of Little Saffield on Old Street. A lane leads to Tawn Timble and Glymwode and on into the forest, and so to Thripsey Shee on Madling Meadow."

"It should not be too hard to find."

Dhrun spoke in surprise: "Surely you are not planning to visit the shee yourself?"

Madouc gave an evasive response. "I have no immediate plans."

"I would advise against any plans whatever, indefinite or otherwise. The roads are dangerous. The forest is strange. Fairies are not to be trusted."

Madouc seemed unconcerned. "My mother would protect me from harm."

"Do not be too sure! If she were cross and the day had gone badly, she might give you a badger's face or a long blue nose, for no reason whatever."

Madouc said positively: "My mother would never harm her own dear daughter!"

"Why would you want to go in the first place? They would not receive you nicely."

"I care nothing for that. I want only to learn news of my father, and what might be his name and his estate, and where he now lives: perhaps at some fine castle overlooking the sea!"

"What does your mother say to this?"

"She pretends to remember nothing. I believe that she has not told me everything she knows."

Dhrun was dubious. "Why should she hide the information? Unless your father was a scapegrace and a vagabond, of whom she is ashamed."

"Hm," said Madouc. "I had not thought of that. But it is hardly likely-or so I hope."

From the castle came King Casmir and Aillas, both showing faces of conventional impassivity.

Aillas spoke to Dhrun: "The wind seems to be shifting toward the south, and we had best gain sea room before conditions worsen."

"It is a pity we must go so soon," said Dhrun.

"True! Still, that is the way of it. I have invited King Casmir, along with Queen Sollace and the princess, to spend a week with us at Watershade later this summer."

"That would be a pleasant occasion!" said Dhrun. "Watershade would be at its best! I hope that Your Majesty will decide to visit us. It is not too irksome a trip!"

"It would be my great pleasure, if the press of affairs permits," said King Casmir. "I see that the carriage awaits; I will make my farewells here and now."

"That is quite in order," said Aillas. "Goodbye, Madouc." He kissed her cheek.

"Goodbye! I am sorry that you are going so soon!"

Dhrun bent to kiss Madouc's cheek, and said, "Goodbye. We will see you again before long, perhaps at Watershade!"

"I hope so."

Dhrun turned away and followed Aillas down the stone steps to the road, where the carriage awaited them.

V

King Casmir stood by the window of his private parlour, legs apart, hands clasped behind his back. The Troice flotilla had departed and was gone beyond the eastern headlands; the Lir stretched blank and wide before him. Casmir muttered soft words under his breath and turned away from the window. Hands still clasped behind his back, he paced back and forth across the room, slow step after slow step, head bent forward so that his beard brushed his chest.

Queen Sollace entered the parlour. She halted and stood watching King Casmir's ponderous travels. Casmir darted her an ice-blue glance sidewise from under his eyebrows, and continued to pace in silence. With nostrils haughtily pinched, Queen Sollace marched across the room to the couch and seated herself. King Casmir at last halted. He spoke, as much to himself as to Sollace. "It cannot be brushed aside. Once again my progress is checked and my great effort thwarted-by the same agency and for the same reasons. The facts are blunt. I must accept them."

"Indeed?" asked Sollace. "What are these ugly facts which cause you such distress?"

"They concern my plans for Blaloc," grumbled Casmir. "I cannot intervene without bringing Aillas and his Troice warships down around my ears. Thereupon that fat jackal Audry would be sure to turn on me, and I cannot withstand so many blows from so many directions."

"Perhaps you should adopt a different plan," said Queen Sollace brightly. "Or you might make do with no plan at all."

"Ha!" barked Casmir. "So it might seem! King Aillas talks softly and with great politeness; he has the uncomfortable skill of calling one a false-hearted blackguard, a liar, a cheat and a villain, but making it seem a compliment."

Queen Sollace shook her head in bewilderment. "I am surprised! I thought King Aillas and Prince Dhrun had come to pay a courtesy call."

"That was not his only reason-I assure you of that!"

Queen Sollace sighed. "King Aillas has achieved his own great successes; why cannot he be more tolerant of your hopes and dreams? There must be an element of jealousy at work."

Casmir nodded curtly. "There is no love lost between us, that is fact. Still, he only acts as he must. He knows my ultimate goal as well as I know it myself!"

"But it is a glorious goal!" bleated Queen Sollace. "To unite the Elder Isles once again, as of old: that is a noble dream! It would surely give impetus to our holy faith! Think! One day Father Umphred might be Archbishop over all the Elder Isles!"

King Casmir spoke in disgust: "Once again you have been listening to that clabber-faced priest. He has cozened you into your cathedral; let that suffice."

Queen Sollace raised her moist gaze to the ceiling. She spoke in long-suffering tones: "No matter what else, please realize that my prayers are dedicated to your success. You must surely win in the end!"

"I wish it were so easy." King Casmir flung himself heavily into a chair. "All is not lost. I am checked in Blaloc, but there are always two ways around the barn!"

"Your meaning escapes me."

"I will give new instructions to my agents. There will be no more disorder. When King Milo dies, Brezante will be king. We will give him Madouc in marriage, and by this means join our houses."

Queen Sollace made an objection. "Brezante is already wed! He married Glodwyn of Bor!"

"She was frail, young and sickly, and she died in childbirth. Brezante is notably uxorious, and he will be quite ready for new nuptials."

Queen Sollace said mournfully: "Poor little Glodwyn! She was barely more than a child; it is said she never gave over her homesickness."

Casmir shrugged. "Still and all, it might well work to our advantage. King Milo is as good as dead. Brezante is a bit dull, a factor favorable to our cause. We must make occasion for his visit."

Sollace said doubtfully: "Brezante is not altogether gallant, nor is he handsome, or even dashing. His penchant for young maidens is notorious."

"Bah! Old or young, what of that? The business is all cut from the same cloth! Kings are above small-minded scandal."

Queen Sollace sniffed. "And queens as well, no doubt!" Casmir, staring thoughtfully across the room, ignored the remark.

"One matter further," said Sollace. "I refer to Madouc. She is difficult in matters of this sort."

"She will obey because she must," said Casmir. "It is I who am king, not Madouc."

"Aha! But it is Madouc who is Madouc!"

"We cannot make bread without flour. Scrawny red-headed little whelp she may be: still she must yield to my command."

"She is not ugly," said Queen Sollace. "Her time has come, and she is developing-slowly, of course, and with little to show for the effort. She will never boast a fashionable figure, such as mine."

"It will be enough to affect Brezante." He slapped his hands decisively on the arms of the chair. "I am prepared to act with expedition."

"Your policy is no doubt wise," said Queen Sollace. "Still-"

"Still what?"

"Nothing of consequence."

King Casmir acted without delay. Three couriers rode off from Haidion into the evening: the first to Fort Mael, ordering a return to routine conditions; the second to a high-placed agent in Twissamy; the third to King Milo, wishing him health, deploring the ruffians who flouted royal authority, and inviting King Milo and Prince Brezante to Haidion for a gala visit. Or Prince Brezante alone, if King Milo's health made such a visit impractical.

A few days later the couriers returned. From Fort Mael and the agent in Twissamy came simple acknowledgments that Casmir's orders had been received and would be acted upon. From King Milo came a dispatch of greater interest. King Milo thanked King Casmir for his kindly wishes and fraternal support. Next he announced his return to jovial good health and described how the change had come about. In a passage of some length he described the circumstances. It seemed that one day, just prior to his dinner, a sudden desperate spasm came upon him. Instead of his usual regimen: one quail egg and half a gill of buttermilk, he commanded a joint of roast beef with horse radish and suet pudding, a suckling pig fresh from the spit surrounded by roast cinnamon apples, a pot of pigeon stew and three gallons of good red wine. For his supper he took a more moderate repast of four roast fowl, a pork and onion pie, a salmon and a number of sausages, along with sufficient wine to assist in digestion. After a night's sound sleep, he breakfasted on fried flounder, three dozen oysters, a raisin cake, a cassoulet of broad beans and ham for a savory, and a tankard or two of a particularly fine white wine. It was this return to a sound and wholesome diet, declared King Milo, which had renewed his strength; he now felt as good as new, if not better. Therefore, wrote King Milo, he and the recently bereaved Prince Brezante would be delighted to accept King Casmir's invitation. Neither he nor Brezante would be reluctant to discuss the topic at which King Casmir had hinted. He endorsed King Casmir's suggestion that an era of friendlier relations between their two realms was about to be initiated.

Madouc learned of the projected visit from several sources, but it remained for Devonet to explain the occasion in detail. "You will find Prince Brezante very attentive," said Devonet airily. "He may wish to take you somewhere alone, perhaps to his rooms, for a game of ‘sly' or ‘fiddle-de-doodle'; in this case you must be on your guard. Brezante is partial to young maidens. He may even suggest a marriage contract! In any case you should not succumb to his blandishments, since some men become bored with easy conquests."

Madouc said stiffly: "You need not fear on that account. I am interested neither in Prince Brezante nor his blandishments."

Devonet paid no heed. "Think of it! Is it not exciting? Some day you might be Queen Madouc of Blaloc!"

"I think not."

Devonet spoke reasonably: "I agree that Brezante is not the most comely of men; indeed, he is fleshy and squat, with a round belly and a big nose. Still, what of that? He is a royal prince, and you are to be envied, or so I suppose."

"You are talking sheer foolishness. I have not the slightest interest in Prince Brezante, nor he in me."

"Do not be too sure of that! You are much like his previous spouse. She was a young princess from Wales-a little wisp of a thing, naive and innocent."

Chlodys joined the conversation with eager zest. "They say that she cried constantly from both homesickness and distress! I believe that eventually she went out of her mind, poor thing. Prince Brezante was troubled not at all and bedded with her nightly, until at last she died in childbirth."

"It is a sad story," said Madouc.

"Exactly! The little princess is dead and Prince Brezante is heartsick. You must do your best to console him."

"He will surely want to kiss you," said Chlodys with a giggle. "If so, you must kiss him nicely in return; that is the way one wins a husband. Am I not right, Devonet?"

"That is one of the ways, certainly."

Madouc spoke with disdain: "Sometimes I marvel at the ideas which seep through your minds!"

"Ah well," sighed Devonet. "It is less disgraceful to think than to do."

"Although not so much fun," added Chlodys.

"Either of you, or both, are welcome to Prince Brezante," said Madouc. "He will surely find you more interesting than I."

Later in the day King Casmir met Madouc in the gallery. He was about to pass her by, eyes averted, in his usual style; instead, he stopped in his tracks. "Madouc, I want a word with you."

"Yes, Your Highness."

"Come with me." King Casmir led the way into a nearby council chamber, with Madouc lagging reluctantly six paces behind.

Casmir, smiling the smallest of grim smiles, waited by the door until Madouc entered, then closed the door and went to stand by the table. "Sit."

Madouc seated herself primly in a chair across the table from Casmir.

"I must now instruct you," said Casmir ponderously. "Listen with care and heed me well. Certain events of importance are in the offing. King Milo of Blaloc will presently be our guest, in company with Queen Caudabil and Prince Brezante. I intend to propose a contract of betrothal between you and Prince Brezante. The marriage will be joined at an appropriate time, possibly in three years. It will be an important marriage, in that it will consolidate a strong alliance with Blaloc, to counter Porn perol's tendency toward Dahaut. These are affairs of state which you will not understand, but you must believe that they are of the highest priority."

Madouc tried to think of something to say that would delicately convey her feelings and yet not enrage King Casmir. Several times she started to speak, then thought better of her remarks, and closed her mouth. At last she said, rather lamely:

"Prince Brezante may not favor such a match."

"I suspect otherwise. King Milo has already expressed interest in the arrangement. Almost certainly an announcement will be made during the royal visit. It is a good match for you, and you may consider yourself lucky. Now then, attend! Lady Vosse will instruct you in the proprieties which must be observed. I expect total decorum from you on this occasion. You may not indulge in any of your famous vapors or tantrums, at risk of my extreme displeasure. Is this quite clear?"

Madouc answered in a tremulous voice: "Yes, Your High ness, I understand your words." She drew a deep breath. "But they fly wide of the mark. It is best that you should know this now."

King Casmir started to speak, using a dangerous voice, but Madouc was quick to anticipate him. "In ordinary matters I would hope to obey you, but remember: my marriage is far more important to me than it is to you."

King Casmir bent slowly forward. Over the years dozens of frightened wretches had seen such an expression on his face before being dragged away to torment in the dungeons under the Peinhador. Casmir spoke from deep in his throat: "So you think to thwart my volition?"

Madouc spoke more carefully than ever. "There are circumstances, Your Highness, which make the plan impossible!"

"What circumstances are these?"

"First, I despise Prince Brezante. If he is so anxious to marry, let him betroth himself to Lady Vosse or Chlodys. Second, if you will recall, I am born of halfling mother and an unknown father. My pedigree is lacking; for this reason, my maidens call me ‘bastard', which I cannot deny. If King Milo knew of this, he would consider the betrothal a mockery, and an insult to his house."

King Casmir blinked and stood silent. Madouc rose to her feet and stood demurely leaning on the table. "Therefore, Your Highness, the betrothal is not possible. You must make other plans, which do not include me."

"Bah!" muttered Casmir. "All these circumstances are small fish in a big pan. Neither Milo nor Brezante need know of them! After all, who would tell them?"

"The task would fall to me," said Madouc. "It would be my duty."

"That is sheer blather!"

Madouc hurried on, her tongue almost tripping over itself. "Not so, Your Highness! I merely use the faith and candour I have learned from your noble example! Decent respect for the honour of both royal houses would compel me to admit my condition, no matter what the consequences!"

King Casmir spoke out harshly: "It means nothing; I assure you of this! To talk of honour is frivol and foolishness! If it is a pedigree you need, the heralds will contrive something suitable and I will fix it upon you by ordinance!"

Madouc smilingly shook her head. "Bad cheese stinks, no matter how thin it is sliced. Such a pedigree would be a laughable deceit. Folk would call you a black-hearted monster, as false as a stoat, ready for any lie or duplicity. Everyone would sneer and joke; I would be doubly ridiculed, and doubly demeaned, for allowing such a brazen falsity! They would further call you a-"

Casmir made a brusque gesture. "Stop! That is enough!"

Madouc said meekly: "I was only explaining why my true and very own pedigree is essential to me."

King Casmir's patience was wearing thin. "This is folly, and I quite beside the point! I do not propose to be thwarted by such paltriness! Now then-"

Madouc cried out plaintively: "The facts cannot be denied, Your Highness! I lack all pedigree."

"Then construct yourself a pedigree, or find one that you deem proper, and it shall be fixed upon you by fiat! Only be quick! Ask Spargoy the Chief Herald for help."

"I would prefer the help of someone else."

"Whoever you like! Fact or fancy, it is all one; I am indifferent to your whims. Only be quick!"

"Just so, Your Majesty. I will do as you command."

Casmir's attention was caught by a bland overtone in Madouc's response: why had she become so docile? "In the meantime, I will initiate discussions in regard to the betrothal. This must proceed!"

Madouc gave a poignant little cry of protest. "Your Highness, have I not just explained that this cannot be?"

Casmir's torso seemed to swell. Madouc moved a slow step around the table, to put its maximum diameter between her and King Casmir. She cried out: "Nothing has changed, Your Highness! I will search everywhere for my pedigree, but even should I discover the King of Byzantium for my sire, Prince Brezante remains as obnoxious as ever. If he speaks a single word to me, I shall declare myself an orphan bastard whom King Casmir wishes to foist off on him. If he is not deterred I will show him the ‘Tinkle-toe Imp-spring', so that he leaps six feet into the air."

King Casmir's cheeks had become pink and his eyes bulged blue from his face. He took three strides around the table, in order that he might seize Madouc and beat her well. Madouc warily darted off an equal distance around the table. Casmir lumbered in pursuit, but Madouc ran nimbly to keep the table always between them. Casmir at last halted, breathing hard both from passion and exertion. Madouc said breathlessly: "You must excuse me for evading you, Your Highness, but I do not care to be beaten again."

"I will call the footmen," said Casmir. "They will take you to a dark room, and I will beat you at my leisure and perhaps do else to you. No one defies me and escapes unscathed." He took a slow step around the table, staring fixedly at Madouc as if trying to fascinate her into immobility.

Madouc sidled aside, and spoke tremulously: "I beg you not to do such things, Your Highness! You will notice that I have not used my fairy magic upon you, which would be disrespectful. I command not only the ‘Sissle-way' and the ‘Tinkle-toe' but also-" Madouc groped for inspiration, which was not slow in coming "-an irksome spell called ‘Insect's Arrayance', to be used only on persons who threaten me!"

"Oh?" asked King Casmir in a gentle voice. "Tell me of this spell!" And he took a slow step around the table.

Madouc hurriedly skipped aside. "When I am compelled to afflict some vile cur of a villain, insects swarm upon him from all directions! By day and by night they come, high and low, down from the sky, up from the soil!"

"That is an unnerving prospect."

"True, Your Highness! Please do not creep around the table, as you frighten me and I might blurt out the ‘Arrayance' by mistake!"

"Indeed? Tell me more of this marvellous spell."

"First come the fleas! They jump through the vile cur's golden beard, also his hair; they swarm in his rich garments till he tears his skin for scratching!"

"Irksome! Stand quietly, and tell me more!" King Casmir made a sudden movement; Madouc jumped around the table and spoke in desperate haste: "When he sleeps large spiders crawl across his face! Weevils burrow into his skin and drop from his nose! He finds beetles in his soup and roaches in his porridge! Blowflies crawl into his mouth and lay eggs in his ears; when he walks out he is beleaguered by gnats and moths and darting grasshoppers; wasps and bumblebees sting him at random!"

King Casmir stood scowling. "And you control this awful spell?"

"Oh yes indeed! There is worse to come! Should the villain fall to the ground, he is instantly overcome by a seethe of ants. Naturally, I would use this spell only to protect myself!"

"Of course!" King Casmir smiled a small hard smile. "But do you truly command a spell of such power? I suspect not."

"In all candour, I have forgotten one or two of the syllables," said Madouc bravely. "However they come readily enough from my mother's tongue. I can call her at need, and she will transform my enemies into toads, moles or salamanders, as I dictate, and this you must believe, since it is truth!"

King Casmir stared at Madouc a long moment. He made an abrupt gesture signifying a dozen emotions. "Go. Remove yourself from my sight."

Madouc performed a dainty little curtsey. "I am grateful for Your Majesty's kind clemency." She slipped gingerly past Casmir; then, with a sly glance back over her shoulder, ran quickly from the room.

VI

King Casmir walked with a slow and ponderous tread along the gallery, up the stairs and, after a moment's pause, along the corridor to the queen's sitting room. The footman standing at attention thrust the door wide; King Casmir marched into the room. Discovering Queen Sollace in earnest colloquy with Father Umphred, King Casmir stopped short and stood glowering. Queen and priest turned to look at him, their voices instantly hushed. Father Umphred performed a smiling bow. Casmir, ignoring the salute, marched across the room to the window, where he stood in morose contemplation of the vista.

After a respectful pause, Queen Sollace and Father Umphred resumed their conversation: at first in muted tones so as not to intrude upon King Casmir's cogitations; then, as he seemed neither to heed nor to hear, in their ordinary voices. As usual, they discussed the new cathedral. The two were agreed that all appurtenances and furnishings should be of the richest and most superb quality; only the best could be considered suitable.

"The focus of all-one might say, the inspirational node-is the altar," declared Father Umphred. "It is where all eyes look and the source from which rings out the Holy Word! We must ensure that it equals or transcends any other of Christendom!"

"I am of like mind," said Queen Sollace. "How fortunate we are! It is an opportunity vouchsafed to very few!"

"Exactly so, dear lady!" Father Umphred turned a side glance toward the bulky figure at the window, but King Casmir seemed absorbed in his own thoughts. "I have prepared certain drawings; unfortunately I neglected to bring them with me."

Queen Sollace gave a cry of disappointment. "Describe them, if you will! I would be interested to hear!"

Father Umphred bowed. "I envision an altar of rare wood supported by fluted columns of pink Cappadocian marble. To either side candelabra of seven sconces shall stand, stately and tall, like transfigured luciferous angels! Such will be their effect! Eventually they shall be wrought of pure gold; for the nonce we will use articles of gold leaf on plaster."

"We will do what needs to be done!"

"Below the altar is stationed the pyx, on a table of fine wood carved with a frieze depicting the twelve archangels. The pyx shall be a vessel of silver, inlaid with carbuncles, lapis and jade; it shall rest on a cloth embroidered with sacred signs, in simulation of that holy cloth known as the ‘Tasthapes'. Behind the altar, the wall will be divided into twelve panels, each enamelled in designs of pure color to represent a scene of portent, for the joy of the beholder and the glory of the Faith."

Queen Sollace spoke fervently: "I can see it now, as if in a vision! The concept moves me deeply!"

Father Umphred, after another quick glance toward the window, said: "My dear lady, you are obviously sensitive to spiritual influences, and far beyond the ordinary! But let us consider how best to order our holy relics. The question is this: should we provide a particular reliquarium-let us say, to the side of the vestibule? Or perhaps a more general display in one of the transepts, or both, in the event we acquire several of these sacred objects?"

Queen Sollace said wistfully, "As of now, with nothing to display, we can make no serious plans."

Father Umphred made a gesture of reproach. "Have faith, dear lady! It has sustained you in the past! These objects exist, and we will procure them."

"But can you be certain of this?"

"With faith and perseverance, we will find them, wherever they may be! Some remain to be discovered; others have been cherished and lost, and need finding again. I cite you the Cross of Saint Elric, who was cooked and eaten by the ogre Magre, one limb at a time. To fortify himself during the ordeal, he fashioned a crucifix from his two discarded tibia. This crucifix was at one time a treasure of Saint Bac's Monastery at Dun Cruighre; where is it now? Who knows?"

"Then how would we find it?"

"Through careful and dedicated search. I cite also the Talisman of Saint Uldine, who worked to convert Phogastus, troll of Black Meira Tarn. Her efforts were extended; indeed, she bore Phogastus four implings,* each with a round bloodstone in the place of a third eye. The four stones were detached and set into a talisman, now immured somewhere among the crypts at Whanish Isle. This is also an object of mighty force; still it could be won by a person staunch and intrepid. In Galicia, on the Pico Alto, is a monastery founded by the heretic Bishop Sangiblas. The monks preserve in their crypts one of the nails which pinned the feet of Our Saviour. I could cite other such relics. Those which are not lost are revered and guarded with care. They might be difficult to obtain."

Queen Sollace spoke decisively: "No good thing comes with out hardship. That is the lesson of life!"

"How true!" intoned Father Umphred. "Your Highness has succinctly clarified a whole heron's nest of untidy ambiguities!"

Queen Sollace asked: "Was there not some talk of the Grail? I refer to that sacred utensil used by the Saviour at his Last Supper, and which Joseph of Arimathea caught blood from the divine wounds. What are the tidings of this sanctified vessel?"

Father Umphred pursed his lips. "The reports are not exact. We know that it was brought to Glastonbury Abbey by Joseph of Arimathea, then carried to Ireland and housed in a chapel on the islet Inchagoill in Lough Corrib; thence it was brought to the Elder Isles by a monk named Sisembert through fear of the pagans, and now it is deemed to be in secret custody: in a mysterious place to be dared only by the most gallant or the most foolhardy!"

King Casmir had been listening to the conversation with half an ear. Now he turned, to stand with his back to the window, his face showing cynical amusement. Queen Sollace turned him an inquiring look, but King Casmir seemed to have nothing to say. She turned back to Father Umphred.

"If only we could assemble a brotherhood of noble paladins, devoted to the service of their queen! I would send them forth on a quest of glory, with all honour for him who succeeded in the enterprise!"

"It is an excellent scheme, Your Highness! It fires the imagination!"

"And then, should we secure the Grail, I would feel that my life's effort had been well spent!"

"It is undoubtedly the finest relic of all."

"Surely we must obtain it for our own! The glory of our cathedral would resound across all Christendom."

"Quite true, my dear lady! The vessel is a very good relic, very fine indeed. Pilgrims would come from afar to marvel, to pray, to bless the saintly queen who ordained the great church!"

King Casmir could tolerate no more. He took a step forward. "I have heard enough foolish prattle!" He jerked his thumb toward the priest. "Go! I wish to speak with the queen!"

"Just so, Your Highness!" Father Umphred gathered up his gown and took his portly figure briskly from the parlour. He turned aside at once, into a dressing room adjacent to the parlour. After a quick look over his shoulder, he stepped into a closet and removed a small plug in the wall, which allowed him to hear all that went on.

Casmir's voice came from near at hand. "-the facts, and they cannot be disputed. Madouc is a changeling; her mother a fairy; her father is some nameless rogue of the forest. She flatly refuses a connection with Brezante, and I see no practical way to enforce my wishes."

Sollace spoke with emotion: "That is insolence in the extreme! You have already invited King Milo and his queen to Haidion, and Prince Brezante as well!"

"Unfortunately true. It will do no harm to entertain them; still, it is a vexation."

"I am indignant! The little hussy should not be allowed her victory!"

King Casmir grimaced and shrugged. "Were she of ordinary blood, she would be grieving at this very moment. But her mother is a fairy, and I dare not test her spells. That is simple practicality."

Queen Sollace spoke hopefully: "If she were baptized and instructed in holy matters-"

King Casmir cut her short. "We tried that before. The scheme is inept."

"I suppose that you are right; still-but no matter."

Casmir pounded his fist into the palm of his hand. "I am cursed with problems! They swarm at me in a plague, each more dismal than the others, save only for the most carking of all, which gnaws at me night and day!"

"Which problem is that?"

"Can you not imagine? It is the mystery of Suldrun's child."

Queen Sollace gave Casmir an uncomprehending stare. "Is it such a desperate problem? I have long put the matter from my head."

"Do you not remember the case? Suldrun's first-born son was taken and and we were given a bratling."

"Of course I remember; what of that?"

"The mystery remains! Who is the other child? He is the subject of Persilian's prophecy; still I know neither his name nor where he bides. He will sit rightfully at Cairbra an Meadhan and rule from Evandig. That is Persilian's gist."

"The force by now may have waned."

"The force of such predictions never wane, until they are fulfilled-or circumvented! If I knew the child's name, I could work some sort of ploy and safeguard the realm."

"There are no clues to the case?"

"None. He was born a boy, and now he will be the same age as Madouc. That is all I know; I would pay dearly to learn the rest!"

"The time is long past," said Sollace. "There is no one now to remember. Why not solicit a more favorable prophecy?"

Casmir gave a sad sick chortle. "It is not so easy to befuddle the Norns." He went to sit on the couch. "Now, despite all, I must entertain King Milo. He will be expecting a betrothal. How shall I explain that Madouc scorns his mooncalf of a son?"

Queen Sollace gave a throaty exclamation. "I have the answer! Madouc can still serve to advantage-perhaps even better than before!"

"How so?"

"You heard us discuss our need for holy relics. Let us proclaim that whoever goes forth on a quest and returns with an authenticated relic, then he can expect a rich reward! Should he bring back the Holy Grail itself, he can demand a great boon from the king, even to the hand of the Princess Madouc herself!"

Casmir started to ridicule the idea, then closed his mouth. There was, so he reflected, nothing inherently wrong with the proposal. If pilgrims brought gold; if relics brought pilgrims; if Madouc-even indirectly-brought relics, then the concept was sound. Casmir rose to his feet. "I have no objections to the plan."

Queen Sollace said dubiously: "We may only be postponing the problem!"

"How so?"

"Assume that some gallant knight brought hither the Holy Grail and asked the boon of the Princess Madouc's hand in marriage, and the boon was granted, but Madouc proved intractable, as well she might. What then?"

"I will give away the little shrew. She may choose either matrimony or servitude; it is all one to me; the problem at this point leaves our hands."

Sollace clapped her hands together. "So are solved all our problems!"

"Not all of them." Casmir rose to his feet and departed the chamber.

The next day, on the landing of the great staircase, King Casmir was accosted by Father Umphred. "Your Highness, I beg the favor of a few words with you, on a matter of importance."

Casmir looked the priest up and down. "What is it now?"

Father Umphred glanced to right and left to make sure that they would not be overheard. "Sire, during my tenure at Haidion as spiritual counsellor to Her Majesty, and what with my other duties, I have become privy to many events of greater or lesser importance. Such is the nature of my position."

Casmir gave a sour grunt. "As to this I have no doubt. You know more about my affairs than I do myself."

Father Umphred laughed politely. "Recently I have been given to understand that you are interested in Suldrun's first-born child."

King Casmir said sharply: "What of it?"

"I might be able to discover the name of this child, and his present domicile."

"How would you do this?"

"I cannot be sure at this exact moment. But there is more to the case than the information alone."

"Aha. You want something."

"I will not deny it. My great ambition is the Archbishopric of the Lyonesse Diocese. If I were to convert the King of Lyonesse to Christianity, there would be strong argument for my elevation to this post at the next Synod of Cardinals at Rome."

Casmir scowled. "In short, if I become a Christian, you will tell me the name of Suldrun's child."

Father Umphred nodded and smiled. "In its ultimate essence, this is the case."

Casmir spoke in a voice ominously flat. "You are a sly devil. Have you ever been stretched on the rack?"

"No, Your Highness."

"You are bold to the edge of insouciance! Were it not that Queen Sollace would never again give me peace, you would tell your tale without conditions, amidst gasps and squeals."

Father Umphred showed a sickly smile. "I intend no boldness and certainly no disrespect; indeed I hoped that Your Highness might take pleasure in my offer."

"Again: you are lucky that Queen Sollace is your sponsor! What is involved in conversion?"

"Simple baptism, and you must recite a few words of the litany."

"Ha hmm. It is no great thing." King Casmir considered, then spoke in a harsh voice: "Nothing will be changed, by so much as an iota! Do not presume upon your success! You will control none of the church monies; all funds must be paid into and out of the royal exchequer, with not a farthing for the popes of Rome!"

Father Umphred bleated a protest. "Your Highness, this makes for unwieldy administration!"

"It also makes for honest archbishops. Further, I will tolerate no swarms of itinerant monks, coming like flies on the waft of carrion, to feast and make merry on public funds. Such vagabonds will be whipped and seized into servitude, that they may do useful work."

"Your Highness!" cried Father Umphred aghast. "Some of these wandering priests are holy men of the first rank! They carry the Gospel to wild places of the world!"

"Let them wander on without pausing-to Tormous or Skorne or High Tartary, so long as I never see the bulge of their paunches nor the shine of their pates!"

Father Umphred heaved a sigh. "I am forced to agree; we will do what we can."

"Rejoice, priest!" said Casmir grimly. "Today your luck is good! You have gained your bargain and eased your fat limbs away from the rack. Tell me now your information!"

"It must be verified," said Father Umphred smoothly. "I shall have it ready tomorrow, after the ceremony."

King Casmir turned and strode off to his chambers.

The following day at noon Casmir repaired to the Queen's small chapel. He stood silent while Father Umphred sprinkled him with holy water and recited phrases in unctuous Latin. Next, to Father Umphred's prompting, he mumbled a Paternoster and a few phrases of litany. Thereupon, Father Umphred seized up a cross and advanced upon Casmir, the cross held high. "Down upon your knees, Brother Casmir! In humility and the full transports of your joy kiss the cross and dedicate your life to worshipful deeds and the glory of the Church!"

King Casmir spoke evenly: "Priest, guard your tongue! I brook no fools in my presence." He looked around the chapel and made a peremptory gesture to those who had attended the ceremony. "Leave us!"

The chapel was empty except for Casmir, the priest, and Queen Sollace, whom Casmir now addressed. "My dear queen, it might be well if, for the nonce, you also took yourself apart."

Queen Sollace vented a large sniff. Rigid with resentful dignity, she marched from the chapel.

King Casmir turned to the priest. "Now then! Tell me what you know! If it is either false or foolish, you will languish long in the dark."

"Your Highness, here is the truth! Long ago a young prince was washed up on the beach, half-drowned, at the foot of Suldrun's garden. His name was Aillas, who is now King of Troicinet and elsewhere. Suldrun bore him a son-he who was taken to the Forest of Tantrevalles for safety. There the son, whose name was Dhrun, was changed by the fairies for Madouc. Aillas was consigned to the oubliette but escaped by some means beyond my knowledge. Now he hates you passionately. His son, Prince Dhrun, holds you in no more affection."

Casmir listened slack-jawed. The information was far more surprising than he had expected. He muttered: "How is this possible? The son should be of an age with Madouc!"

"The child Dhrun bided a year in the fairy shee, as reckoned in human time. But this year equalled seven years or more of halfling time! So is resolved the paradox."

Casmir made a series of soft grunting sounds. "Do you have proof of what you say?"

"I have no proof."

Casmir did not press the point. There were facts in his possession which had long puzzled him: why, for instance, had Ehirme, Suidrun's one-time servitor, been spirited away to Troicinet with all her family and there endowed with a rich estate? Even more baffling was a fact which had caused a thousand marvelling conjectures: how could Aillas be so near in age to his son Dhrun? Now, all was explained.

The facts were just and true. Casmir said in a heavy voice: "Speak nothing of this, into any ears whatever! It must be known only to me!"

"Your Highness has spoken and I will obey!"

"Go."

Father Umphred hurried importantly from the chapel. Casmir stood gazing unseeingly toward the cross on the wall, which meant no more to him now than yesterday. He spoke to himself: "Aillas hates me well!" Then, in a voice even more soft: "And it is Dhrun who will sit at Cairbra an Meadhan-before his death. So be it! He shall so sit and he will rule from the throne Evandig, if it is only to send a page off for a kerchief. But so, before his death, shall he sit and so shall he rule."

VII

Evening came to Haidion Castle. King Casmir, sitting alone in the Great Hall of the Old Tower, took an austere supper of cold beef and ale. Upon finishing his meal, he swung about, to sit gazing into the fire. He sent his memory back across the years. Images fleeted and flickered: Suldrun as a golden-haired child; Suldrun as he had last seen her: woebegone but still defiant. Presently he glimpsed the haggard youth he had dropped with such bleak fury into the oubliette. Time blurred the drawn white face, but now it wore the semblance of a young Aillas. So it had been! How Aillas must hate him! What yearnings for sweet revenge must control the mind of Aillas!

Casmir gave a soft dismal grunt. Recent events must now be considered from a new perspective. Aillas, by assuming sovereignty over North and South Ulfiand, had thwarted Casmir in his goals, and had only just done so again in connection with Blaloc. What artful dissimulation Aillas and Dhrun had used during their visit! How blandly they had urged pacts of peace, all the while despising him and conspiring for his doom!

Casmir pulled himself up in his chair. It was now time for counterblows, harsh and definite, though still controlled, as always, by prudence; Casmir was not one to indulge in rash acts which might react against his own best interests. At the same time, he must discover a method by which the prophecy of Persilian could be voided and its meaning vitiated.

Casmir sat ruminating, weighing his options and reckoning the value of each. Clearly, if Aillas were dead, Casmir's interests must be advanced. In such a case, Dhrun would become king. At this juncture, so Casmir reasoned, a colloquy at Avallon could easily be arranged, on one pretext or another. Dhrun would be seated at Cairbra an Meadhan and somehow persuaded to issue an order from the throne Evandig. The rest would be routine: a movement in the shadows, a glint of steel, a sad cry, a body on the floor-and Casmir would pursue his goals free of fear and almost unopposed.

The plan was straightforward and logical, and needed only implementation.

First: the death of Aillas must be effectuated, but within the constraints of prudence. Assassination of a king is a risky affair, and a bungled attempt usually leaves a clear trail to the instigator, which would not be advantageous.

A name entered Casmir's mind as if by its own force. Torqual.

Casmir pondered at some length. Torqual's qualifications were superb, but he was not easily controlled. In fact, he was not to be controlled at all. Torqual often seemed as much enemy as ally, and barely troubled to maintain a cynical pretense of cooperation.

With regret, Casmir put aside the name ‘Torqual'. Almost immediately another name entered his mind, and this time Casmir leaned back in his seat, nodding thoughtfully to himself and feeling no misgivings whatever. The name was ‘Sir Cory of Falonges'*_and it referred to a man more or less of Torqual's stripe. Sir Cory's willing cooperation, however, could be taken for granted, since he now crouched deep in a dungeon under the Peinhador awaiting the stroke of Zerling's axe. By acceding to King Casmir's wishes, Sir Cory, so it seemed, had everything to gain and nothing to lose.

Casmir signalled to the footman who stood by the door. "Fetch me Sir Erls."

Sir Erls, Chancellor of State and one of Casmir's most trusted advisers, shortly entered the hall: a small sharp-eyed sharp featured person of middle age, with fine silver hair and pale ivory skin. Casmir had no great liking for the fastidious Sir Erls. However, Sir Erls served him with punctilious efficiency, and Casmir ignored all else.

Casmir indicated a chair; Sir Erls, after a stiff bow, seated himself. Casmir asked: "What do you know of Sir Cory, who rests in the Peinhador?"

Sir Erls spoke with instant facility, as if he had expected the question. "Cory is second son to Sir Claunay of Falonges, now dead. The first son, Sir Camwyd, took the estate, which is to the north of Western Province in the Troagh, close under the Ulf border. Cory could not adapt to the plight of the second son, and tried to murder Sir Camwyd. During the night a dog howled; Sir Camwyd was wakeful and the deed was aborted. Cory became a fugitive, then an outlaw. He ranged the Troagh and conducted ambushes along Old Street. He was captured by Duke Ambryl, who would have hanged him out of hand had not Cory declared himself one of Your Majesty's secret agents. Ambryl stayed his hand and sent Cory here for your own disposition. He is said to be a person of good address, if a black- hearted scoundrel, ripe for Zerling's axe. That is the sum of my knowledge."

"Perhaps Sir Cory used a premonition after all," said Casmir. "Have him brought here at once."

"As Your Majesty commands." Sir Ens' voice was carefully toneless. He left the hall. In due course a pair of jailers brought Cory of Falonges into the hall, with chains at his wrists and a rope around his neck.

Casmir inspected Cory with cool interest. Cory was of middle stature, strong and agile, with a stocky torso, long sinewy arms and legs. His complexion was sallow, his hair dark, his features heavy and hard. He wore the garments in which he had been captured; originally of good quality, they were now torn and bedraggled and stank abominably of the dungeon. Nevertheless he returned King Casmir's inspection with incurious composure: alive and alert but resigned to his fate.

The jailers tied one end of the rope to a table leg, so that Cory might not spring unexpectedly upon King Casmir, then, at Casmir's nod, they retired from the hall.

Casmir spoke in an even voice: "You informed Duke Ambryl that you worked in my secret service."

Cony gave a nod of the head. "So I did, Your Highness."

"Was not that a bold remark to make?"

"Under the circumstances, I prefer to think it an inspiration of the moment. It illuminates my resourceful intelligence and indicates my desire to put myself and my skills at your service."

Casmir smiled his cold smile. "You had not previously made these ambitions clear."

"True, Sire! I have postponed the act too long, and now you discover me in shackles, to my shame."

"Shame for your crimes, or shame for your failure?"

"I can only say, Sire, that I am not accustomed to failure."

"Ha! That, at least, is a quality which I admire. Now then, as to employment in my service: it may be a game you shall play in earnest."

"Willingly, Sire, since the work would seem to reprieve me from dungeon and axe."

"That is the case," said Casmir. "You are evidently both clever and unscrupulous; these are qualities which I often find valuable. If you succeed in the work I am about to propose, you shall not only have earned your amnesty but also a substantial reward."

Sir Cory bowed. "Your Majesty, without hesitation I commit myself to your mission."

Casmir nodded. "Let us be clear at the outset. If you betray me, I will hunt you down with all my resources and bring you back to the Peinhador."

Again Sir Cory bowed. "Sire, as a realist I would expect nothing else. Tell me only what I must do."

"The deed is simple enough. You must kill King Aillas of Troicinet, Dascinet and the Ulflands. He is now at sea with his navy, but you will presently find him at Doun Darnic, in South Ulfiand. I must not be implicated in the work."

Cory compressed his lips and his eyes glittered in the torch light. "It is a delicate task, but not beyond my skill."

"That is all for tonight. Tomorrow we will speak again. Guards!"

The jailers entered the room. "Take Sir Cory back to the Peinhador; allow him to bathe, provide him fresh garments, feed him as he chooses and house him securely on the first level."

"As you wish, Sire. Come along, dog's-body."

Cory spoke haughtily: "Henceforth, address me as ‘Sir Cory', or beware my displeasure!"

The jailer gave a sharp tug on the rope. "Whatever your name, be quick about it; we are not as clement as His Majesty."

Later in the afternoon of the next day King Casmir once again interviewed Sir Cory, this time in the Room of Sighs, above the armoury. Sir Cory was now dressed decently and came unshackled. King Casmir sat at his usual place, with the beechwood flagon and the beechwood wine cup ready at hand. He motioned Sir Cory to a bench.

"I have made certain arrangements," said Casmir. "On the table is a purse, containing twenty forms of silver. Fit yourself out as a merchant of medicinal ointments, with a horse, a pack animal and suitable stock-in-trade. Fare north along the Sfer Arct to Dazleby, proceed to Nolsby Sevan, then north along the Ulf Passway. You will negotiate the Gates of Cerberus and Kaul Bocach the fortress; continue six miles beyond to a wayside inn showing the sign of the Dancing Pig. There you will find four men awaiting you-blackguards as deep-dyed as yourself, if not worse. They were destined to join Torqual's band, but first they will assist you in your endeavour. You shall use them as you think best."

Casmir looked at a list, then spoke with distaste. "This is an unusual group! Each would seem to exceed all the others combined for sheer villainy. First, I cite you Izmael the Hun, from the woods of Tartary. Next is Kegan the Celt, who is as thin as a ferret and no less avid for blood. Next: Este the Sweet, with curling golden hair and a limpid smile. He is Roman and claims kinship with the house of Ovid the poet. He carries a frail bow, like a toy, and shoots arrows which seem little more than slivers, but he can put out a man's eye at a far distance. Last is Galgus the Black, who carries four knives at his belt. Such are your paladins."

"They would seem, rather, creatures out of a nightmare," said Cory. "Will they do my bidding?"

Casmir smiled. "So I hope. They fear Torqual, certainly. He may be the only man alive who daunts them. For this reason you must act in Torqual's name. There is a secondary benefit; when you are successful, as I hope, Torqual will be blamed for the deed and not I."

"How will Torqual regard this project?"

"He will make no objection. I reiterate: my name must never be used. Is all clear to you?"

"Except as to a single point: am I required to work under Torqual's orders?"

"Only if it eases your task."

Cory pulled thoughtfully at his long chin. He asked: "May I speak with full candour?"

"So far we have done little else. Speak!"

"I have heard rumours that your secret agents seldom survive to enjoy the fruits of their toil. How am I guaranteed that I will live to enjoy my success?"

"I can answer only in these terms," said Casmir. "If you have served me capably once, I may well desire that you serve me again, which you will not be able to do if you are dead. Secondly, if you distrust the arrangements, you have the option of returning to the Peinhador."

Cory smiled and rose to his feet. "Your arguments are cogent."