Madouc

CHAPTER NINE

King Throbius grew weary and decided to sit. With a gesture he brought a throne from the castle and caused it to be placed directly at his back. The implets who carried his train scurried frantically lest the throne pin the royal cloak to the turf, with consequences painful to themselves.

King Throbius settled himself upon the throne: a construction of ebony riveted with rosettes of black iron and pearl, surmounted by a fan of ostrich plumes. For a moment King Throbius sat upright, while the implets, working at speed, though with quarrelling and bickering, arranged his train to its best display. He then leaned back to take his comfort.

Queen Bossum sauntered past on her way to the castle, where she would change to a costume suitable for the activities she had planned for the afternoon. She paused beside the throne and proffered a suggestion which King Throbius found persuasive. Queen Bossum continued to the castle and King Throbius summoned three of his officials: Triollet, the Lord High Steward; Mipps, Chief Victualler to the Royal Board; and Chaskervil, Keeper of the Bins.

The three responded with alacrity and listened in respectful silence while King Throbius issued his instructions. "Today is auspicious," said King Throbius in his roundest tones. "We have discomfited the troll Mangeon, and minimized his predilection for certain wicked tricks. Mangeon will think twice be fore attempting new affronts!"

"It is a proud day!" declared Mipps.

"It is a day of triumph!" cried Triollet fervently.

"I concur with both my colleagues, in every respect!" stated Chaskervil.

"Just so," said King Throbius. "We shall signal the occasion with a small but superb banquet of twenty courses, to be served upon the castle terrace, thirty guests and five hundred flicker-lamps. Address yourselves to the perfection of this event!"

"It shall be done!" cried Triollet.

The three officials hurried off to implement the royal command. King Throbius relaxed into his throne. He surveyed the meadow, that he might observe his subjects and appraise their conduct. He took note of Madouc, where she stood by Osfer's table, sadly watching Sir Pellinore's face dissolve into mist.

"Hm," said King Throbius to himself. He stepped down from his throne and with a stately tread approached the table. "Madouc, I notice that your face shows little joy, even though your most ardent hope has been realized! You have learned the identity of your father, and your curiosity is gratified; am I not correct?"

Madouc gave her head a wistful shake. "I must now discover whether he is alive or dead and, if alive, where he abides. My quest has become more difficult than ever!"

"Nevertheless, you should be clapping your pretty hands for joy! We have demonstrated that the troll Mangeon is not included among your forbears. This, by itself, should induce an almost delirious euphoria."

Madouc managed the quiver of a smile. "In this regard, Your Highness, I am happy beyond words!"

"Good!" King Throbius pulled at his beard and glanced around the meadow, to discover the whereabouts of Queen Bossum. At the moment she was nowhere in sight. King Throbius spoke in a somewhat lighter voice than before: "Tonight we shall celebrate Mangeon's defeat! There will be a banquet both elegant and exclusive; only persons of special éclat will be present, all in full regalia. We will dine on the terrace under five hundred ghost-lanterns; the viands will be exquisite, equally so the wines! The feast will proceed until midnight, to be followed by a pavane under the moon, to melodies of the utmost sweetness."

"It sounds very fine," said Madouc.

"That is our intent. Now then: since you are visiting the shee in a special capacity, and have achieved a certain reputation, you will be allowed to attend the banquet." King Throbius stood back, smiling and toying with his beard. "You have heard the invitation; will you elect to be present?"

Madouc looked uneasily off across the meadow, uncertain how best to reply. She felt the king's gaze on her face; darting a side glance she discovered an expression which surprised her. It was like that she had once glimpsed in the red-brown eyes of a fox. Madouc blinked; when she looked back, King Throbius was as bland and stately as ever.

Once again King Throbius asked: "How say you? Will you attend the banquet? The queen's own seamstress shall provide your gown-perhaps a delicious trifle woven of dandelion fluff, or a flutter of spider-silk stained with pomegranate."

Madouc shook her head. "I thank Your Highness, but I am not ready for such a splendid affair. Your guests would be strange to me, with customs beyond my knowledge, and I might unwittingly give offense or make myself foolish."

"Fairies are as tolerant as they are sympathetic," said King Throbius.

"They are also known for their surprises. I fear all fairy revelry; in the morning-who knows? I might find myself a withered crone forty years old! Many thanks, Your Highness! But I must decline the invitation."

King Throbius, smiling his easy smile, made a sign of equanimity. "You must act to your best desires. The day verges into afternoon. Yonder stands Twisk; go and say your goodbyes; then you may take your leave of Thripsey Shee."

"One question, Sire, as to the magical adjuncts you have allowed me."

"They are transient. The pebble already has lost its force. The glamour lingers more lovingly, but tomorrow you may pull all you like at your ear, to no avail. Go now and consult your fractious mother."

Madouc approached Twisk, who pretended an interest in the sheen of her silver fingernails. "Mother! I will soon be leaving Thripsey Shee."

"A wise decision. I bid you farewell."

"First, dear Mother, you must tell me more of Sir Pellinore."

"As you like," said Twisk without enthusiasm. "The sun is warm; let us sit in the shade of the beech tree."

The two settled themselves cross-legged in the grass. Fairies one by one came to sit around them, that they might hear all that transpired and share in any new sensation. Sir Pom-Pom also came slouching across the meadow, to stand leaning against the beech tree, where presently he was joined by Travante.

Twisk sat pensively chewing on a blade of grass. "There is little to tell, beyond what you already know. Still, this is what happened."

Twisk told the tale in a musing voice, as if she were remembering the events of a bittersweet dream. She admitted that she had been taunting Mangeon, mocking his hideous face and denouncing his crimes, which included a sly tactic of creeping up behind some careless fairy maiden, trapping her in a net and carrying her off to his dismal manse, where she must serve his evil purposes until she became bedraggled and he tired of her.

One day while Twisk wandered in the forest Mangeon crept up behind her and flung his net, but Twisk skipped clear and fled, pursued at a humping jumping run by Mangeon.

Twisk eluded him without difficulty, hiding behind a tree while Mangeon blundered past. Twisk laughed to herself and started back to Madling Meadow. Along the way she passed through a pretty glade, where she came upon Sir Pellinore sitting by a still pool, watching dragonflies darting back and forth across the water, meanwhile plucking idle chords from his lute. Sir Pellinore carried only a shortsword and no shield, but on a branch he had hung a black cloak embroidered with what Twisk took to be his arms: three red roses on a blue field.

Twisk was favorably impressed by Sir Pellinore's appearance and stepped demurely forward. Sir Pellinore jumped to his feet and welcomed her with a nice blend of courtesy and candid admiration, which pleased her to such an extent that she joined him by the pool, where they sat side by side on a fallen log. Twisk asked his name and why he ventured so deeply into the Forest of Tantrevalles.

After an instant of hesitation he said: "You may know me as Sir Pellinore, a wandering knight of Aquitaine, in search of romantic adventure."

"You are far from your native land," said Twisk.

"For a vagabond, ‘here' is as good as ‘there'," said Sir Pellinore. "Furthermore-who knows?-I may well find my fortune in this secret old forest. I have already discovered the most beautiful creature ever to torment my imagination!"

Twisk smiled and looked at him through half-lowered lashes. "Your remarks are reassuring, but they come so easily that I wonder at their conviction. Can they really be sincere?"

"Were I made of stone I would still be convinced! Though my voice might be somewhat less melodious."

Twisk laughed quietly and allowed her shoulder to brush that of Sir Pellinore. "In regard to fortune, the ogre Gois has robbed, pillaged and preempted thirty tons of gold, which in his vanity he used to create a monumental statue of himself. The ogre Carabara owns a crow which speaks ten languages, foretells the weather and gambles with dice, winning large sums from every one it encounters. The ogre Throop is master of a dozen treasures, including a tapestry which each day shows a different scene, a fire which burns without fuel and a bed of air upon which he rests in comfort. According to rumour, he took a chalice sacred to the Christians from a fugitive monk, and many brave knights, from all over Christendom, have attempted to wrest this article from Throop."

"And how have they fared?"

"Not well. Some challenge Throop to combat; usually they are killed by a pair of goblin knights. Others who bring gifts are allowed into Castle Doldil, but to what effect? All end up either in Throop's great black soup kettle or in a cage, where they must amuse Throop and all three of his heads as they dine. Seek your fortune elsewhere; that is my advice."

"I suspect that I have found the most marvellous fortune the world provides here in this very glade," said Sir Pellinore.

"That is a graceful sentiment."

Sir Pellinore clasped Twisk's slender hand. "I would willingly enhance the occasion, were I not in awe of your fairy beauty, and also of your fairy magic."

"Your fears are absurd," said Twisk.

So for a time the two dallied in the glade, at last becoming languid. Twisk tickled Sir Pellinore's ear with a blade of grass. "And when you leave this glade, where will you go?"

"Perhaps north, perhaps south. Perhaps I will visit Throop in his den and avenge his murders, and also divest him of his wealth."

Twisk cried out in sadness You are both brave and gallant but you would only share the fate of all the others!"

"Is there no way to baffle this evil creature?"

"You may gain time by a ruse, but in the end he will trick you."

"What is the ruse?"

"Appear before the Castle Doldil with a gift. He then must offer you hospitality and return a host-gift of the same value. He will offer food and drink but you must take only what he gives and no more by so much as a crumb or then, with a great roar he will accuse you of theft and that will be your doom. Heed my advice, Sir Pellinore! Look elsewhere for both vengeance and fortune!"

"You are persuasive!" Sir Pellinore bent to kiss the beautiful face so close to his own, but Twisk, looking over his shoulder, saw the distorted visage of Mangeon the troll glaring through the foliage. She gave a startled cry, and told Sir Pellinore what she had seen, but when he jumped to his feet, sword in hand, Mangeon had disappeared.

Twisk and Sir Pellinore at last parted. Twisk returned to Thripsey Shee; as for Sir Pellinore, she could only hope that he had not taken himself to Castle Doldil, in accordance with his stated inclination. "That," said Twisk, "is all I know of Sir Pellinore."

"But where should I look to find him now?"

Twisk gave one of her airy shrugs. "Who knows? Perhaps he set off to vanquish Throop; perhaps not. Only Throop will know the truth."

"Would Throop remember after so long?"

"The shields of all his victim knights bedizen the walls of his hall; for recollection, Throop need only look along the ranked escutcheons. But he would tell you nothing unless you told him something of equal consequence in return."

Madouc frowned. "Might not he simply seize me and drop me into his soup kettle?"

"Indeed! If you made free with his property." Twisk rose to her feet. "My best advice is this: avoid Castle Doldil. Throop's three heads are equally merciless."

"Still, I am anxious to learn the fate of Sir Pellinore."

"Alas!" sighed Twisk. "I can advise you no better! If through obstinate folly you risk the venture, remember what I told Sir Pellinore. First you must win past a pair of goblin knights mounted on gryphons."

"How shall I do this?"

Twisk spoke in irritation. "Have I not taught you the Tinkle-toe? Apply it at triple-force. After you have thwarted the goblins and their nightmare steeds, you may request admission to Castle Doldil. Throop will admit you with pleasure. Greet each of the three heads in turn, as they are jealous of their status. On the left is Pism, in the center is Pasm, to the right is Posm. You must mention that you come as a guest and that you bring a host-gift. Thereafter, take only what is freely given and not an iota more. If you obey this rule, Throop is powerless to do you harm, by reason of a spell long ago imposed upon him. If he offers you a grape, do not take the stem. If he allows you a dish of cold porridge, and you discover a weevil in the meal, put it carefully aside or inquire as to its best disposition. Take no gift for which you cannot make a proper return. If you give your host-gift first, he must respond with a gift of equal value. Above all, attempt no theft from Throop, for his eyes see everywhere."

Sir Pom-Pom spoke: "Does Throop for a fact hold the Holy Grail in custody?"

"Possibly. Many have lost their lives in the quest! So it maybe."

Travante put a question. "What host-gifts should we bring to Throop, to hold his rage in check?"

Twisk spoke in surprise. "You too intend to risk your life?"

"Why not? Is it unthinkable that Throop keeps my lost youth locked away in his great chest, along with his other valuables?"

"It is not unthinkable, but not probable either," said Twisk.

"No matter; I will search where I can: the most likely places first."

Twisk asked, half-mocking: "And what, of equal value, will you offer Throop in return?"

Travante considered. "What I seek is beyond value. I must ponder carefully."

Sir Pom-Pom asked: "What can I offer Throop that he might part with the Holy Grail?"

The fairies who had come to listen had lost interest and one by one had wandered away, until only three implets remained. After whispering together, they had become convulsed with mirth. Twisk turned to chide them. "Why, suddenly, are you so merry?"

One of the implets ran forward and, half-giggling, half-whispering, spoke into her ear, and Twisk herself began to smile. She looked across the meadow; King Throbius and Queen Bossum still discussed the forthcoming banquet with their high officials. Twisk gave the implet instructions; all three scuttled around to the back of the castle. Twisk, meanwhile, instructed both Travante and Madouc in regard to the host-gifts which they must offer Throop.

The implets returned, again by a devious route, now carrying a bundle wrapped in a tatter of purple silk. They came stealthily, keeping to the shadows of the forest, where they called to Twisk in soft voices. "Come! Come! Come!"

Twisk spoke to the adventurers: "Let us move into a secluded place. King Throbius is extremely generous, most especially when he knows nothing of his given gifts."

Secure from observation, Twisk unwrapped the parcel, revealing a golden vessel studded with carnelians and opals. Three spouts projected from the top, pointing in three directions.

"This is a vessel of great utility," said Twisk. "The first spout pours mead, the second crisp ale and the third wine of good quality. The vessel has an unexpected adjunct, to prevent unauthorized use. When this onyx bead is pressed, the yield of all three spouts alters for the worse. The mead becomes a vile and vicious swill; the ale would seem to be brewed from mouse droppings; the wine has become a vinous acid, mingled with tincture of blister-beetles. To restore goodness to the drink, one must touch this garnet bead, and all is well. If the garnet bead is pressed during normal use, the three tipples take on a double excellence. The mead, so it is said, becomes a nectar of flowers saturated with sunlight. The ale takes on grandeur, while the wine is like the fabled elixir of life."

Madouc inspected the vessel with awe. "And if one were to press the garnet bead twice?"

"No one dares to contemplate these levels of perfection. They are reserved for the Sublime Entities."

"And what if the onyx bead were pressed twice?"

"Dark ichor of mephalim, cacodyl and cadaverine-these are the fluids yielded by the spouts."

"And thrice?" suggested Sir Pom-Pom.

Twisk made an impatient motion. "Such details need not concern us. Throop will covet the vessel, and it will become your host-gift. I can do no more save urge you to travel south, rather than north to Castle Doldil. And now: the afternoon is on the wane!" Twisk kissed Madouc, and said: "You may keep the pink and white kerchief; it will provide you shelter. If you live, perhaps we shall meet again."

II

Madouc and Travante wrapped the golden vessel in the purple silk cloth and slung it over Sir Pom-Pom's sturdy shoulders.

With no more ado, they circled Madling Meadow and set off up Wamble Way.

On this pleasant afternoon there were comings and goings along the road. The three had travelled only a mile when from far ahead sounded the shrilling of fairy trumpets, growing ever louder and more brilliant. Down the road came dashing a cavalcade of six fairy riders, wearing costumes of black silk and helmets of complex design. They rode black chargers of a strange sort: deep-chested, running low to the ground on taloned legs, their heads like black sheep-skulls with flaring green eyes. Pell mell the six fairy knights rode past, hunching low, black capes flapping, pale faces sardonic. The pounding of flailing feet receded; the shrilling of horns faded in the distance; the three wayfarers resumed their journey to the north.

Travante stopped short, then ran to peer into the forest. After a moment he turned away, shaking his head. "Sometimes I think it follows me, close at hand, whether from loneliness or a necessity which I cannot understand. Often I think I glimpse it, but when I go to look, it is gone."

Madouc peered into the forest. "I could keep a better watch if I knew what to look for."

"It is now a bit soiled, and somewhat tatterdemalion," said Travante. "Still, all taken with all, I would find it useful and a fine thing to own."

"We will keep a sharp lookout," said Madouc, and added pensively: "I hope that I do not lose my youth in the same way."

Travante shook his head. "Never! You are far more responsible than I was at your age."

Madouc gave a sad laugh. "That is not my reputation! I also worry about Sir Pom-Pom; he is heavier of mood than a boy his age should be. Perhaps it comes of working too long in the stables."

"So it may be!" said Travante. "The future will surely be full of surprises. Who knows what we might find should Throop throw open his great coffer?"

"Hardly likely! Even though Sir Pom-Pom brings a fine host-gift."

"My gift is less ostentatious in its value, though Twisk insisted that it is quite suitable."

"Mine is little better," said Madouc. She pointed to Sir Pom-Pom, twenty yards ahead. "Notice how alert Sir Pom-Pom has become! What could have aroused his interest?"

The object in question came into view: a sylph of superlative beauty riding sidewise on a white unicorn, one knee folded, one slim leg negligently dangling. She wore only the golden strands of her long hair, and guided the unicorn by little tugs on its mane. The two made a striking picture, and Sir Pom-Pom, for one, was favorably impressed.

The sylph halted her white steed, and inspected the three travellers with wide-eyed curiosity. "I bid you good afternoon," she said. "Where are you bound?"

"We are vagabonds, and each of us follows a dream," said Travante. "At the moment our quests take us toward Castle Doldil."

The sylph smiled a soft smile. "What you find may not be what you seek."

"We will carefully exchange courtesies with Sir Throop," said Travante. "Each of us brings a valuable host-gift, and we expect a jovial welcome."

The sylph gave her head a dubious shake. "I have heard wails, groans, screams and plaintive moans from Castle Doldil, but never yet a jovial call."

"Sir Throop's nature is perhaps over-serious," said Travante.

"Sir Throop's nature is grim and his hospitality is precarious. Still, you undoubtedly know your own affairs best. Now I must ride on. The banquet starts when the fireflies come out, and I would not be late for the merriment." She twitched at the unicorn's mane.

"One moment!" cried Sir Pom-Pom. "Must you go so soon?"

The syiph tugged at the mane; the unicorn bowed its head and pawed at the ground. "What is your need?"

Madouc spoke. "It is no great matter. Sir Pom-Pom admires the play of light in your long golden hair."

Sir Pom-Pom compressed his lips. "I might trade Holy Grail and all to ride with you to Thripsey Shee."

Madouc spoke curtly: "Control your admiration, Sir Pom-Pom! This lady has better things to think about than your cold hands groping at her chest all the way to Madling Meadow."

The sylph broke into a happy laugh. "I must hurry! Goodbye, goodbye! For I know I shall never see you again!" She twitched at the white mane, and the unicorn paced off down Wamble Way.

"Come, Sir Pom-Pom!" said Madouc. "You need not stare quite so earnestly down the road."

Travante said gravely: "Sir Pom-Pom is admiring the unicorn's fine white tail."

"Hmf," said Madouc.

Sir Pom-Pom explained his interest. "I only wondered how she keeps warm when the breeze blows cold and damp!"

"For a fact," said Travante, "I wondered much the same."

"I looked closely," said Sir Pom-Pom. "I saw no trace of goose pimples."

"The topic lacks interest," said Madouc. "Shall we proceed?"

The three continued up Wamble Way. When the sun dropped behind the trees, Madouc selected an open area a few yards away from the road, placed down the pink and white kerchief and at the call of ‘Aroisus' raised the pink-and-white-striped pavilion.

The three entered to discover, as before, three soft beds, a table laden with fine food, four bronze pedestals supporting four lamps. They dined at leisure, but somberly, with the thoughts of each fixed upon Castle Doldil and the ogre Throop's uncertain hospitality; and when they took to their beds, none slept easily.

In the morning the adventurers arose, took breakfast, struck the pavilion and set off to the north, presently arriving at Idilra Crossroads. To the right Munkins Road led eastward, at last to a junction with Icnield Way. To the left Munkins Road plunged ever deeper into the Forest of Tantrevalles.

The three travellers paused a few moments by Idilra Post; then, since there was no help for it, they turned to the left and with fatalistic steps set off along Munkins Road.

Halfway through the morning the three arrived at a clearing of goodly dimension, with a river running to one side. Beside the river stood the lowering mass of Castle Doldil. They stopped to survey the gray stone keep and the sward in front where so many brave knights had come to grief. Madouc looked from Sir Pom-Pom to Travante. "Remember! Take nothing except that which is given! Throop will use all manner of wiles and we must be on the alert ten times over! Are we ready?"

"I am ready," said Travante.

"I have come this far," said Sir Pom-Pom in a hollow voice. "I would not turn back now."

The three left the shelter of the forest and approached on the castle. At once the portcullis rattled and two squat knights in black armour, with visors closed on their helmets and lances at the ready, galloped from the castle yard. They rode four-legged gryphons with black-green scales; squat heads, half dragon, half wasp; and iron spikes in the place of winglets.

One of the knights cried out in a roaring voice: "What insolent folly brings trespassers to these private lands? We give you challenge; no excuse will be heard! Which of you will dare to do us combat?"

"None of us," said Madouc. "We are innocent wanderers and we wish to pay our respects to the famous Sir Throop of the Three Heads."

"That is all very well, but what do you bring with you, either for Sir Throop's profit or his amusement?"

"In the main, the vivacity of our conversation and the pleasure of our company."

"That is not very much."

"We also carry gifts for Sir Throop. Admittedly they are enriched more by our kind intentions than by their intrinsic worth."

"The gifts, from your description, would seem to be mean and niggardly."

"Even so, we want nothing in return."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing."

The goblin knights conferred in low mutters for a moment; then the foremost said: "We have decided that you are no more than starveling rogues. We are often obliged to protect good Sir Throop from such as you. Prepare yourselves for combat! Who will joust the first course with us?"

"Not I," said Madouc. "I carry no lance."

"Not I," said Sir Pom-Pom. "I ride no horse."

"Not I," said Travante. "I lack armour, helmet and shield."

"Then we will exchange strong strokes of the sword, until one party or the other has been chopped into bits."

"Have you not noticed," asked Travante, "we carry no swords?"

"As you prefer! We shall strike at each other with cudgels until blood and brains spatter this green meadow."

Madouc, losing patience, directed the Tinkle-toe Imp-spring to ward the first knight's fearsome mount. It gave a vibrant scream, leapt high; then, plunging and bucking, bounded this way and that, and at last fell into the river, where the knight, weighted down by his armour, sank quickly and was seen no more. The second knight raised a ferocious battle yell and lunged forward, lance levelled. Madouc directed the spell against the second gryphon, which jumped and tossed with even greater agility, so that the goblin knight was pitched high in the air, to fall on his head and lie still.

"Now then," said Madouc. "Let us try our luck with Sir Throop's hospitality."

The three passed under the open portcullis, into an ill-smelling courtyard, with a row of parapets fifty feet above. On a tall door of iron-bound timber hung a massive knocker in the shape of a hellhound's head. Exerting all his strength Sir Pom-Pom lifted the knocker and let it fall.

A moment passed. Over the parapets leaned a great torso and three peering heads. The middle head called out in a rasping voice: "Who performs this ruthless noise which has disturbed my rest? Did not my minions give warning that at this time I take my comfort?"

Madouc responded as courteously as her quavering voice al lowed. "They saw us, Sir Throop, and ran away in terror."

"That is extraordinary conduct! What sort of persons are you?"

"Innocent travellers, no more," said Travante. "Since we were passing, we thought it proper to pay our respects. Should you see fit to offer us hospitality, we bring host-gifts, as is the custom in these parts."

Pism, the head to the left, uttered a curse: "Busta batasta! I keep but a single servant-my seneschal Naupt. He is old and frail; you must cause him no exasperation, nor put burdens upon his tired old shoulders! Nor may you pilfer my valuable goods, at risk of my extreme displeasure!"

"Have no fear on that score!" declared Travante. "We are as honest as the day is long!"

"That is good to hear! See that your performance goes hand in hand with your boast."

The heads drew back from the parapet. A moment later a great booming voice was raised in harsh command: "Naupt, where are you! Ah, you torpid old viper, where do you hide? Show yourself on the instant or prepare for a purple beating!"

"I am here!" cried a voice. "Ready as always to serve!"

"Bah batasta! Open the portal, admit the guests who wait without! Then go dig turnips for the great black kettle."

"Shall I also cut leeks, Your Honour?"

"Cut leeks by the score; they will make a tasty relish for the soup! First, admit the guests."

A moment later the tall portal swung ajar, with a creaking and groaning of the hinges. In the opening stood Naupt the seneschal: a creature mingled of troll, human man, and perhaps wefkin. In stature he exceeded Sir Pom-Pom by an inch, though his corpulent torso surpassed that of Sir Pom-Pom by double. Gray fustian breeches clung tight to his thin legs and knobby knees; a tight gray jacket dealt with his thin arms and sharp elbows in the same fashion. A few damp black locks hung over his forehead; round black eyes bulged to either side of a long twisted nose. His mouth was a gray rosebud over a tiny pointed chin, with heavy soft jowls sagging to either side.

"Enter," said Naupt. "What names shall I announce to Sir Throop?"

"I am the Princess Madouc. This is Sir Pom-Pom of Castle Haidion, or at least its back-buildings; and this is Travante the Sage."

"Very good, Your Honours! Come this way, if you will! Walk with delicate feet, that you do not unduly abrade the stone paving."

Naupt, running on tiptoe at a half-trot, led the three down a dark high-ceilinged corridor smelling sour-sweet of decay. Moisture oozed from cracks in the stone; tufts of gray fungus grew where the detritus of ages had settled into cracks.

The corridor turned, the floor humped and settled; the corridor twisted again and opened into an enormous hall so high that the ceiling was lost in shadows. A balcony across the back wall supported a row of cages, now untenanted; along the walls hung a hundred shields, emblazoned with as many different emblems. Above each shield, a human skull wearing a knight's steel helmet looked from empty eye sockets across the hall.

Throop's furniture was crude, sparse and none too clean. A table of massive oak timbers stood in front of the fireplace, where burned a fire of eight logs. The table was flanked by a dozen chairs with another, three times ordinary size, at the head.

Naupt led the three into the center of the hail, then, hopping about on his thin legs, signalled the group to a halt. "I will announce your arrival to Sir Throop. You are the Princess Madouc, you are Sir Pom-Pom and you are Travante the Sage; am I correct?"

"You are almost correct," said Madouc. "That is Travante the Sage, and I am the Princess Madouc!"

"Ah! All is now explained! I will call Sir Throop; then I must make ready for Throop's evening meal. You may wait here. See that you take nothing that does not belong to you."

"Naturally not!" said Travante. "I am beginning to resent these imputations!"

"No matter, no matter. When the time comes you can never say that you were not warned." Naupt scurried away on his thin little legs.

"The hail is cold," grumbled Sir Pom-Pom. "Let us go stand by the fire."

"By no means!" cried Madouc. "Do you wish to become soup for Throop's supper? The logs which nourish the fire are not our property; we must avoid putting the warmth to our personal use."

"It is a most delicate situation," growled Sir Pom-Pom. "I wonder that we dare breathe the air."

"That we may do, since the air is all-encompassing and not the property of Throop."

"That is good news." Sir Pom-Pom turned his head. "I hear steps approaching. Throop is on his way."

Throop entered the hall. He lumbered five long paces forward and inspected his guests with the full attention of his three heads. Throop was large and bulky, standing ten feet in height, with the chest of a bull, great round arms and gnarled legs, each as thick as the trunk of a tree. The heads were round, heavy at the cheekbone, with round white-gray eyes, snub noses, and purple heavy-lipped mouths. Each head wore a cocked hat of a different color: Pism's hat was green; Pasm's liver-colored; Posm's, a jaunty mustard-ocher.

The three heads completed their survey. Pasm, at the center, spoke: "What is your purpose here, occupying space and taking shelter inside my Castle Doldil?"

"We came to pay our respects, in the fashion dictated by courtesy," said Madouc. "Your invitation to enter gave us no choice but to occupy space and take shelter."

"Bah batasta! That is a glib response. Why do you stand there like sticks?"

"We are anxious not to impose upon your good nature. Hence we await exact instructions."

Throop marched to the head of the table and seated himself in the great chair. "You may join me at the table."

"Are we to sit on the chairs, Sir Throop, without regard for the wear we might cause?"

"Bah! You must be careful! The chairs are valuable antiques!"

"In that case, concern for you and your property would argue that we should stand."

"You may sit."

"In the warmth of the fire or otherwise?"

"As you choose."

Madouc detected a crafty ambiguity in the statement. She asked: "Without indebtedness or penalty?"

All of Throop's heads scowled together. "In your case I will make an exception and levy no charge for either fireheat or fire light."

"Thank you, Sir Throop." The three carefully seated them selves, and watched Throop in respectful silence.

Posm asked: "Are you hungry?"

"Not particularly," said Madouc. "Since we are casual guests, we are anxious not to consume food you might have reserved for yourself, or Naupt."

"You are gentility personified! Still, we shall see." Pism twisted his burly neck and called past Pasm's ear: "Naupt! Bring fruit! Let it be generous in scope!"

Naupt approached the table bearing a pewter tray piled high with mellow pears, peaches, cherries, grapes and plums. He offered the tray first to Throop. "I will eat a pear," said Pism. "For me, a dozen of those luscious cherries," said Pasm. "Today I will devour a plum or two," said Posm.

Naupt offered the tray to Madouc, who gave a smiling refusal. "Thank you, but good manners force us to decline, since we have nothing to give in return."

Posm, grinning widely, said: "Each of you may taste one grape, free of obligation."

Madouc shook her head. "We might inadvertently break off the stem, or swallow a seed, and thus exceed the value of your gift, to our embarrassment."

Pism scowled. "Your manners are very good, but somewhat tiresome, since they delay our own meal."

Posm said: "All this to the side, was there not some talk of host-gifts?"

"True!" said Madouc. "As you can see, we are modest folk, and our host-gifts, while of no large value, come feelingly from the heart."

Travante said: "Such gifts, after all, are the best! They deserve a deeper regard than presentations of jewels or vials of rare perfume."

"Batasta," said Pism. "Each has its place in the scheme of things. What, then, do you bring for our pleasure?"

"All in good time," said Madouc. "At the moment I thirst, and I wish to drink."

"That can quickly be arranged!" declared Pism in great good humour. "Posm, am I correct in this remark?"

"The sooner the better," said Posm. "The day draws on and we have not yet started the kettle."

Pasm called: "Naupt, remove the fruit; bring goblets on the run, that we may drink!"

Naupt scuttled off with the fruit and returned with a tray of goblets, which he placed around the table. Madouc spoke politely to Throop: "These goblets are of good quality! Do you offer us their use freely and without obligation on our part?"

"We are not impractical theorists!" declared Pasm bluffly. "In order to drink, one needs a proper receptacle, similar in shape to a goblet. Otherwise, the liquid, when poured, falls to the floor!"

"In short, you may use these goblets without charge," stated Pism.

"Naupt, bring the elderberry wine!" called Posm. "We wish to slake our thirsts!"

Madouc said: "As we drink, you may also consider the guest-gifts which it is incumbent upon you to offer in return. By the rules of gentility, such guest-gifts should be of value equal to that of the host-gift."

Pasm roared: "What foolish talk is this?"

Pism spoke with more restraint, and went so far as to wink at his brothers. "There is no harm in such a discussion. Never forget our usual habit!"

"True!" said Posm with a chuckle. "Naupt, have you prepared sufficient onions for the soup?"

"Yes, Your Honour."

"Put them aside for the moment; there will be a short delay and the onions should not overcook."

"Just so, Your Honour."

"You may pour the elderberry wine which our guests have demanded for the slaking of their thirsts."

"By no means!" said Madouc. "We would never think to impose upon your generosity! Sir Pom-Pom, set out your golden vessel. I will drink mead."

Sir Pom-Pom arranged the vessel and from the first spout poured mead for Madouc.

Travante said: "I believe that I will drink good red wine to day."

Sir Pom-Pom poured full Travante's goblet from the appropriate spout. "As for myself, I will drink some fine cracking ale!"

From the last spout Sir Pom-Pom poured foaming ale into his own goblet. Throop's three heads watched the operation in wonder, then all muttered into each other's ears. Pasm said aloud: "That is an excellent vessel!"

"So it is!" said Sir Pom-Pom. "And while we are on the subject, what do you know of the Holy Grail?"

All three heads instantly bent forward to stare at Sir Pom-Pom. "What is this?" demanded Pism. "Did you put a question?"

"No!" cried Madouc. "Of course not! Never! Not by so much as a breath! Nor an iota! You mis-heard Sir Pom-Pom! He said that better than all else he enjoyed his ale!"

"Hmf. Too bad!" said Pasm.

"Information is valuable," said Posm. "We hold it dear!"

Pism said: "Since you have been allowed free and liberal use of the goblets, perhaps you would allow us to taste the product of that remarkable vessel!"

"Certainly!" said Madouc. "It is only good manners! How do your tastes incline?"

"I will drink mead," said Pism.

"I will drink wine," said Pasm.

"I will taste that smashing ale," said Posm.

Naupt brought goblets which Sir Pom-Pom filled from the vessel. Naupt then served to each of the heads its specified tipple.

"Excellent!" declared Pism.

"Tasty and of high quality!" said Pasm.

"Batasta!" cried Posm. "I have not tasted such ale for many a year!"

Madouc said: "Perhaps we should now offer our host-gifts. Then you may offer your guest-gifts in return and we will resume our journey."

"Bah batasta!" growled Pasm. "This talk of guest-gifts scratches harshly on my ear."

Pism once again winked a great white eye. "Have you forgotten our little joke?"

Posm said: "No matter! We must not cause our guests to wonder. Princess Madouc, so tender and sweet! What of your host-gift?"

"My offering is valuable; it is recent news of your beloved brother, the ogre Higlauf! Last month he defeated a troop of sixteen strong knights under the Cliffs of Kholensk. The king of Muscovy intends to reward him with a carriage drawn by six white bears, with a flanking escort of twelve Persian peacocks. Higlauf wears a new cloak of red-fox fur and tall fur hats on all his heads. He is well, save for a fistula on his middle neck; his leg is also a trifle sore from the bite of a mad dog. He sends his fraternal regards and invites your visit to his castle at High Tromsk on the Udovna River. And this news, which I hope will bring you joy, is my host-gift."

All three heads blinked and sniffed in disparagement. "Ah, bah," said Posm. "The gift is of little value; I do not care a fig whether Higlauf's leg hurts or not, nor do I envy him his bears."

"I have done my best," said Madouc. "What of my guest-gift?"

"It shall be an item of equal worth, and not an owl's whisker more."

"As you like. You might give me news of my friend Sir Pelinore of Aquitaine, who passed this way some years ago."

"Sir Pellinore of Aquitaine?" The three heads ruminated, and consulted among themselves. "Pism, do you recall Sir Pellinore?"

"I am confusing him with Sir Priddelot, from Lombardy, who was so very tough. Posm, what of you?"

"I do not place the name. What were his arms?"

"Three red roses on a blue field."

"I recall neither the name nor the arms. Many if not most, or even all, of the visitors to Castle Doldil lack all morality, and think either to steal or commit acts of treachery. These criminals are one and all punished and boiled into a nourishing soup, which is, in most cases, the most notable achievement of their otherwise futile lives. Their arms hang along the walls. Look, freely and without obligation: do you see the three red roses of your friend Sir Pellinore?"

"No," said Madouc. "Nothing of the sort is evident."

Posm called: "Naupt, where are you?"

"Here, Your Honour!"

"Look into the great register! Discover if we have entertained a certain ‘Sir Pellinore of Aquitaine.'

Naupt hopped from the hall, returning a few moments later. "No such name is listed, either in the index, or in the memoranda of recipes. Sir Pellinore is not known to us."

"Then that is the answer I must give, and it fully discharges the requirement. Now then, Travante the Sage: what have you brought as host-gift?"

"It is an article of enormous value if used correctly; indeed, I have given my whole life to its acquisition! Sir Throop, for my host-gift, I present you with my hard-won senility, my old age and the veneration which is its due. It is truly a valuable gift."

Throop's three heads grimaced, and the great arms pulled at the three beards, one after the other. Posm said: "How can you freely bestow a gift so valuable?"

"I do so out of regard for you, my host, in the hope that it brings you the same profit it has brought me. As for my guest- gift, you can restore to me the callow and insipid condition of youth, since I lost my own somewhere along the way. If by chance my lost youth is stored in one of your attics, I will once again take it in charge, and it will serve well enough."

Pism called out: "Naupt, hither!"

"Yes, Your Honour?"

"You heard Travante's requirements; do we keep anything of that description stored among the castle lumber?"

"I am certain not, sir."

Throop turned his three heads back upon Travante. "In that case, you must keep your gift of senility, since I can make no responsive guest-gift, and that shall be an end to the transaction. Now then, Sir Pom-Pom: what have you to offer?"

"In truth, I have nothing whatever, save only my golden vessel."

Posm said quickly: "You need not apologize; that should be adequate."

"I agree," said Pasm. "It is a gift of great utility, unlike the more abstract gifts of the Princess Madouc and Travante the Sage."

"There is a single difficulty," said Sir Pom-Pom. "I would no longer have a utensil from which to drink. If you were able to provide me a suitable replacement-just some ordinary or even antique chalice, of two handles, and I would prefer a blue color-then I might well use my own vessel as a host-gift."

Pism called: "Naupt? Where do you keep yourself? Are you asleep by the stove? You must do better in the future or it shall be the worse for you!"

"As always, I do my best, Your Honour!"

"Attend me! Sir Pom-Pom needs a utensil from which to drink. Provide him with an article to his taste."

"Very good, Your Honour! Sir Pom-Pom, what are your needs?"

"Oh, just some rough old chalice, of two handles, pale blue in color."

"I will inspect the closet, and perhaps I can discover a vessel to your taste."

Naupt ran off and presently returned with a number of cups, mugs and a chalice or two. None suited Sir Pom-Pom. Some were too wide, others too narrow; some too heavy, others an unsuitable color. Naupt ran back and forth until the table was covered with drinking utensils.

Throop became testy. Posm acted as spokesman. "Surely, Sir Pom-Pom, among this assortment is a vessel to meet your needs."

"Not really. This one is too big. This one is too squat. This one is bedizened with unsuitable decorations."

"Batasta, but you are fastidious in your drinking! We have no others to show you."

"I might even accept something in the Irish style," suggested Sir Pom-Pom.

"Ah," cried Naupt. "Remember that strange old chalice we took long ago from the Irish monk? Perhaps that might be in Sir Pom-Pom's style!"

"Just conceivably," said Sir Pom-Pom. "Fetch it here and let me see it."

"I wonder where I stored the old piece," mused Naupt. "I believe it is in the cupboard beside the entrance to the dungeons."

Naupt ran off, to return with a dusty old double-handled cup, of fair size, pale blue in color.

Madouc noticed that the rim was marred by a small chipped place, and that it otherwise resembled the drawing she had seen in the library at Haidion. She said: "If I were you, Sir Pom-Pom, I would accept this old cup and not dither any longer, even though it is old and chipped, and of no value whatever."

Sir Pom-Pom took the chalice in trembling hands. "I suppose it will serve me well enough."

"Good," said Pasm. "This affair of gifts and giving is now at an end, and we must take up other matters."

Posm called to Naupt: "Have you prepared a bill of damages?"

"Not yet, Your Honour!"

"You must include charges for the time we have wasted with the Princess Madouc and Travante the Sage. Sir Pom-Pom brought an article of value; both Madouc and Travante tried to befuddle us with talk and nonsense! They must pay the penalty for their deceit!"

Posm said: "Put the onions into the pot and prepare the kitchen for our work."

Madouc licked her lips nervously, and spoke in a faltering voice: "You cannot be planning what I suspect you are planning!"

"Hah batasta!" declared Pism. "Your suspicions may not fall short of the truth!"

"But we are your guests!"

"And no less savory for all of that, especially with our special seasoning, of ramp and horseradish."

Pasm said: "Before we proceed with our work, perhaps we should enjoy a draught or two from our golden vessel of plenty."

"A good idea," said Posm.

Sir Pom-Pom rose to his feet. "I will demonstrate the best method of pouring. Naupt, bring tankards of large size! Pism, Pasm and Posm wish to drink deep of the stuff they love the best!"

"Just so," said Pasm. "Naupt, bring out the great pewter tankards, that we may enjoy our draughts!"

"Yes, Your Honour."

Sir Pom-Pom busied himself at the golden vessel. "What then will each drink?"

Pism said: "I will take mead, in plenitude!"

Pasm said: "As before, I will drink red wine, in copious flow!"

Posm said: "I crave more of that walloping ale, and let it not all be foam in the tankard!"

Sir Pom-Pom poured from the three spouts, and Naupt carried the tankards to Throop of the Three Heads. "I bid you, raise your tankards high and drink deep! An amplitude remains in the vessel."

"Ha hah batasta!" cried Pasm. "One and all: drink deep!" Throop's two hands raised the three tankards, and poured the contents down the throats of Pism, Pasm and Posm all together.

Three seconds passed. Pism's great round face turned bright red and his eyes bulged three inches from his head, while his teeth clattered to the floor. Pasm's countenance seemed to vibrate and turn upside-down. Posm's face became as black as coal and red flames darted from his eyes. Throop rose to his feet, to stand swaying. Within his great belly sounded first a rumble, then a muffled explosion and Throop fell over backward, in a tumble of unrelated parts. Travante stepped forward and taking up Throop's massive sword, hacked the three heads free of the body. "Naupt, where are you?"

"Here, sir!"

"Take up these three heads and throw them into the fire, at this instant, that they may be destroyed."

"As you say, sir!" Naupt carried the heads to the fireplace and thrust them into the heart of the flames. "Watch to make sure that they are utterly consumed!" said Travante. "Now then: are prisoners pent in the dungeons?"

"No, Your Lordship! Throop ate them all, every one!"

"In that case there is nothing to delay our going."

"To the contrary," said Madouc in a faint voice. "Sir Pom-Pom, you evidently pushed the onyx bead, not once but twice?"

"Not twice," said Sir Pom-Pom. "I pushed it a full five times, and once more for good measure. I notice that the vessel has collapsed into corroded fragments."

"It has served its purpose well," said Madouc. "Naupt, we spare you your horrid little life, but you must alter your ways!"

"With pleasure and gratitude, Your Ladyship!"

"Henceforth you must devote your time to good works and a kindly hospitality toward wayfarers!"

"Just so! How glorious to be free of my thralldom!"

"Nothing more detains us," said Madouc. "Sir Pom-Pom has found the object of his quest; I have learned that Sir Pellinore exists elsewhere; Travante is assured that his lost youth is not immured among the oddments and forgotten curios of Castle Doldil."

"It is something, but not much," sighed Travante. "I must continue my search elsewhere."

"Come!" said Madouc. "On this instant let us depart! I am sickened by the air!"

III

The three travellers departed Castle Doldil at their best speed, giving a wide berth to the corpse of the goblin knight with the broken neck. They marched westward in silence along Munkins Road, which, according to Naupt would presently join the Great North-South Road. And many glances were turned backward, as if in expectation of something terrible coming in pursuit. But the way remained placid and the only sounds to be heard were of birds in the forest.

The three walked on, mile after mile, each preoccupied with his own concerns. At last Madouc spoke to Travante. "I have derived some benefit, so I suppose, from this awful occasion. I can, at the very least, give a name to my father, and it would seem that he is alive. Therefore, I have not quested in vain. At Haidion I will make inquiries, and surely some grandee of Aquitaine will give me news of Pellinore."

"My quest has also been advanced," said Travante, without great conviction. "I can dismiss Castle Doldil from all future concerns. This is a small but positive gain."

"It is surely better than nothing," said Madouc. She called out to Sir Pom-Pom, who walked ahead. "What of you, Sir Pom-Pom? You have found the Holy Grail and so you are successful in your quest!"

"I am dazed by events. I can hardly believe in my achievement!"

"It is real! You carry the Grail, and now may rely on the king's bounty."

"I must give the matter serious thought."

"Do not choose to wed the royal princess," said Madouc. "Some maidens sigh and fret; she uses both Sissle-way and Tinkle-toe with no remorse whatever."

"I have already made a decision on that score," said Sir Pom-Pom shortly. "I want no spouse so willful and reckless as the royal princess."

Travante said, smiling: "Perhaps Madouc might become meek and submissive once she was married."

"I, for one, would not take such a risk," said Sir Pom-Pom. "Perhaps I shall marry Devonet, who is very pretty and remarkably dainty, though a trifle sharp of tongue. She berated me bitterly one day in regard to a loose surcingle. Still, failings such as hers can be cured by a beating or two." Sir Pom-Pom nodded slowly and reflectively. "I must give the matter thought."

For a time the road followed the river: beside pools shadowed under weeping willows, along reaches where reeds trembled to the current. At a ledge of gray rock, the river swung south; the road rose at an incline, dropped in a swoop, then veered away under enormous elms, with foliage glowing all shades of green in the afternoon sunlight.

The sun declined and dusk approached. As shadows fell over the forest, the road entered a quiet glade, empty save for the ruins of an old stone cottage. Travante looked through the doorway to find a compost of dust and mouldering leaves, an ancient table and a cabinet, to which, by some miracle the door still clung. Travarite pulled open the door to find, almost invisible on a high shelf, a booklet of stiff parchment, the leaves bound between sheets of gray slate. He gave the booklet to Madouc. "My eyes are no longer apt for reading. Words blur and squirm, and reveal none of their secrets. It was not so in the old days, before my youth slipped away."

"You have suffered a serious loss," said Madouc. "As for remedy, you can surely do no more than what you are doing."

"That is my own feeling," said Travante. "I shall not be discouraged."

Madouc looked around the glade. "This seems a pleasant place to pass the night, especially since dusk will soon be dimming the road."

"Agreed!" said Travante. "I am ready to rest."

"And I am ready to eat," said Sir Pom-Pom. "Today we were offered no food except Throop's grape, which we declined. Now I am hungry."

"Thanks to my kind mother, we shall both rest and dine," said Madouc. She laid out the pink and white kerchief and cried:

"Aroisus!" and raised the pavilion. Entering, the travellers found the table laid as usual with a bounty of excellent comestibles: a roast of beef with suet pudding; fowl fresh from the spit and fish still sizzling from the pan; a ragout of hare and another of pigeons; a great dish of mussels cooked with butter, garlic and herbs; a salad of cress; butter and bread, salt fish, pickled cucumbers, cheeses of three sorts, milk, wine, honey; fried tarts, wild strawberries in clotted cream; and much else. The three refreshed themselves in basins of scented water, then dined to repletion.

In the light of the four bronze lamps Madouc examined the booklet taken from the cottage. "It appears to be an almanac of sorts, or a collection of notes and advices. It was indited by a maiden who lived in the cottage. Here is her recipe for a fine complexion: ‘It is said that cream of almonds mixed with oil of poppy is very good, if applied faithfully, and also a lotion of sweet alyssum drowned in the milk of a white vixen (Alas! Where would a white vixen be found?), then ground with a few pinches of powdered chalk. As for me, I command none of these ingredients and might not use them were they at hand, since who would trouble to notice?' Hmm." Madouc turned a page.

"Here is her instruction for training crows to speak. ‘First, find a young crow of alert disposition, jolly and able. You must treat it kindly, though you will clip its wings that it may not fly. For one month, add to its usual food a decoction of good valenan, into which you have seethed six hairs from the beard of a wise philosopher. At the end of the month you must say: "Crow, my dear crow: hear me now! When I raise my finger you must speak! Let your words be clever and to the point! So you shall make for the joy of us both, since we may relieve each other of our loneliness. Crow, speak!" ‘I followed the instruction with every possible care, but my crows all remained mute, and my loneliness has never been abated.'

"Most odd," mused Sir Pom-Pom. "I suspect that the ‘philosopher' from whose beard she plucked the six hairs was not truly wise, or possibly he deceived her with a display of false credentials."

"Possibly true," said Madouc.

"In such a lonely place, an innocent maiden might easily be deceived," said Travante. "Even by a philosopher."

Madouc returned to the booklet. "Here is another recipe. It is called ‘Infallible Means for Instilling Full Constancy and Amatory Love in One Whom You Love.'

"That should be interesting," said Sir Pom-Pom. "Read the recipe, if you will, and with exact accuracy."

Madouc read: " ‘When the dying moon wanders distrait and, moving low in the sky, rides the clouds like a ghostly boat, then is the time to prepare, for a vapor often condenses and seeps down the shining rind, to hang as a droplet from the lower horn. It slowly, slowly, swells and sags and falls, and if a person, running below, can catch the droplet in a silver basin, he will have gained an elixir of many merits. For me there is scope for much dreaming here, since, if a drop of this syrup is mixed into a goblet of pale wine and, if two drink together from the goblet, a sweet love is infallibly induced between the two. So I have made my resolve. One night when the moon rides low I will run from this place with my basin and never pause until I stand below the horn of the moon, and there I will wait to catch the wonderful droplet.'

Travante asked: "Are there further notations?"

"That is all to the recipe."

"I wonder if the maiden did so run through the night, and whether, in the end, she caught her precious droplet!"

Madouc turned the parchment pages. "There is nothing more; the rain has blurred what remains."

Sir Pom-Pom rubbed his chin. He glanced toward the sacred chalice, where it reposed on a cushion; then he rose to his feet and, going to the front of the pavilion, looked out across the glade. After a moment he returned to the table.

Travante asked: "How goes the night, Sir Pom-Pom?"

"The moon is near the full and the sky is clear."

"Aha! Then there will be no seepage of moon syrup tonight!" Madouc asked Sir Pom-Pom: "Were you planning to run through the forest carrying a basin at the ready?"

Sir Pom-Pom responded with dignity: "Why not? A drop or two of the moon elixir might someday come in useful." He turned a quick glance toward Madouc. "I am still uncertain as to the boon I will ask."

"I thought that you had decided to become a baron and wed Devonet."

"Espousing a royal princess might be more prestigious, if you take my meaning."

Madouc laughed. "I take your meaning, Sir Pom-Pom, and henceforth I will be wary of your pale wine, though you offer it by the gallon on your bended knee."

"Bah!" muttered Sir Pom-Pom. "You are absolutely unreasonable."

"No doubt," sighed Madouc. "You must make do with Devonet."

"I will think on the matter."

In the morning the three continued along Munkins Road, under great trees which filtered the morning sunlight. They travelled an hour, when suddenly Travante gave a startled cry. Madouc turned to find him staring into the forest.

"I saw it!" cried Travante. "I am sure of it! Look yonder; see for yourself!" He pointed, and Madouc looked to barely see a flash of movement under the trees. Travante cried out: "Hold! Do not go away! It is I, Travante!" He raced off into the forest, shouting: "Do not flee from me now! I see you plain! Will you not slow your pace; why are you so fleet of foot?"

Madouc and Sir Pom-Pom followed for a space, then stopped to listen, hoping that Travante would return, but the cries grew fainter and ever fainter and at last could be heard no more.

The two returned slowly to the road, pausing often to look and listen, but the forest had become still. In the road, they waited an hour, walking slowly back and forth, but at last they reluctantly set off into the west.

At noon they arrived at the Great North-South Road. The two turned south, Sir Pom-Pom as usual in the lead.

Finally Sir Pom-Pom halted in exasperation and looked over his shoulder. "I have had enough forest! The open country lies ahead; why do you tarry and loiter?"

"It happens without my knowing," said Madouc. "The reason I suppose is this: each step brings me closer to Haidion and I have decided that I am a better vagabond than princess."

Sir Pom-Pom gave a scornful grunt. "As for me, I am bored with this constant trudging through the dust! The roads never end; they simply join into another road, so that a wanderer never comes to his journey's end."

"That is the nature of the vagabond."

"Bah! It is not for me! The scenery shifts with every ten steps; before one can start to enjoy the view it is gone!"

Madouc sighed. "I understand your impatience! it is reasonable! You want to present the Holy Grail to the church and win grand honours for yourself."

"The honours need not be so grand," said Sir Pom-Pom. "I would like the rank of baron or knight, a small estate with a manor house, stables, barn, sty, stock, poultry and hives, a patch of quiet woodland and a stream of good fishing."

"So it may be," said Madouc. "As for me, if I did not want Spargoy the Chief Herald to identify Sir Pellinore, I might not go back to Haidion at all."

"That is folly," said Sir Pom-Pom.

"So it may be," said Madouc once again.

"In any event, since we have decided to return, let us not delay."

IV

At Old Street Madouc and Sir Pom-Pom turned west until they arrived at the village Frogmarsh and the road south, sometimes known as ‘the Lower Way', which led to Lyonesse Town.

During the afternoon clouds began to loom in the west; toward evening trails of rain brushed the landscape. In a convenient meadow, behind a copse of olive trees, Madouc raised the pavilion, and the two rested warm and secure while the rain drummed on the fabric. For much of the night lightning flashed and thunder rumbled, but in the morning the clouds had broken and the sun rose bright to shine upon a world fresh and wet.

Madouc reduced the pavilion; the two continued down the road: into a region of pinnacles and gorges, between the twin crags Maegher and Yax-known as the Arqueers-then out under the open sky and down a long rolling slope, with the Lir visible in the distance.

From behind came the rumble of galloping hooves. The two moved to the side of the road, and the riders passed by: three rakehelly young noblemen, with three equerries riding at their backs. Madouc looked up at the same moment Prince Cassander glanced aside and into her face. For a fleeting instant their eyes met, and in that time Cassander's face sagged into a mask of ack Vance disbelief. With a flapping arm he waved his comrades to a halt, then wheeled his horse and trotted back, to learn whether or not his eyes had deceived him.

Cassander reined up his horse near Madouc and his expression changed to half-scornful half-pitying amusement. He looked Madouc up and down, darted a glinting blue glance at Sir Pom-Pom, then gave a chuckle of incredulous laughter. "Either I am hallucinating or this unkempt little ragamuffin lurking beside the ditch is the Princess Madouc! Sometimes known as Madouc of the Hundred Follies and the Fifty Crimes!"

Madouc said stiffly: "You may put aside that tone of voice, since I am neither fool nor criminal, nor yet do I lurk."

Cassander jumped down from his horse. The years had changed him, thought Madouc, and not for the better. His amiability had disappeared under a crust of vanity; his self-conscious airs made him seem pompous; with his highly colored face, tight brassy curls, petulant mouth and hard blue eyes, he seemed a callow replica of his father. In measured tones he answered Madouc: "Your condition lacks dignity; you bring ridicule upon us all."

Madouc gave a stony shrug. "If you do not like what you see, look elsewhere."

Cassander threw back his head and laughed. "Your appearance is not so bad, after all; in fact, travel seems to become you! But your deeds do a disservice to the royal house."

"Ha!" said Madouc in scorn. "Your own deeds are not above criticism. In fact, they are a scandal, as everyone knows."

Cassander laughed again, if uneasily. His comrades joined the amusement. "I am speaking of different deeds," said Cassander. "Shall I enumerate? Item: you created a furore of hysterical inquiries. Item: you instigated a thousand recriminations which were discharged willy-nilly in all directions. Item: you have nourished a volume of angers, carks, resentments and sore emotions beyond all estimate. Item: you have focused upon yourself a full spate of bitter reproaches, not to mention threats, judgments and curses. Item:-"

"Enough," said Madouc. "It seems that I am not popular at Haidion; you need not proceed. It is all beside the point, and you yourself speak from ignorance."

"Just so. The fox in the poultry-run cannot be blamed for the cackling of the pullets."

"Your jokes are too airy for my understanding."

"No matter," said Cassander. He jerked his thumb toward Sir Pom-Pom. "Is this not one of the stableboys?"

"What of that? King Casmir allowed me horses and an escort. Our horses were stolen, so now we go afoot."

"For a royal princess a stableboy is not suitable escort."

"I have no complaints. Sir Pom-Pom, or Pymfyd, as you know him, has conducted himself well and our quests have been for the most part successful."

Prince Cassander shook his head in wonder. "And what were these marvellous quests, that His Majesty should approve them so readily?"

"Sir Pom-Pom went in search of holy relics, in accordance with the king's proclamation. I went to establish my pedigree, by the king's own order."

"Odd, most odd!" said Cassander. "Perhaps the king was distracted and paid no heed; there is much on his mind. We will travel to Avallon in a day or so for a great colloquy, and His Majesty perhaps did not understand what was afoot. As to your pedigree, what have you learned, if anything?"

Madouc glanced haughtily at Cassander's grinning comrades. "It is not a matter to be aired before underlings."

The mirth of Cassander's friends froze on their faces.

"As you like," said Cassander. He looked back to the three equerries. "You, Parlitz, dismount and ride behind Ondel; the princess shall use your horse. You, my lad-" he pointed to Sir Pom-Pom "-you may ride behind Wullam on the bay. Come now, promptly does it! We must be home by noon!"

Along the way Cassander rode by Madouc's side and tried to make conversation. "How did you learn your pedigree?"

"I consulted my mother."

"How did you find her?"

"We went to Madling Meadow, which is deep in the Forest of Tantrevalles."

"Aha! Is that not dangerous?"

"Extremely, if one is careless."

"Hmf! And did you encounter such dangers?"

"We did, for a fact."

"And how did you evade them?"

"My mother has taught me a few trifles of fairy magic."

"Tell me about this magic!"

"She does not like me to discuss such things. Still, some time I will tell you of our adventures. I am not in the mood to do so now."

Cassander spoke austerely: "You are a strange little creature! I wonder what will become of you!"

"Often I wonder the same."

"Ha bah!" declared Cassander in his most positive manner. "One thing is certain, if nothing else! Destiny frowns on unruly little itlings who expect everyone to dance whenever they play their tunes!"

"It is not quite so simple," said Madouc, without any great interest.

Cassander fell silent, and so the party rode on toward Lyonesse Town. After a mile or two, Cassander spoke again. "Do not expect a gala reception-if only because we depart for Avallon on the day after tomorrow."

"I have been wondering about this journey. What is the occasion?"

"It is a grand colloquy called by King Audry at King Casmir's suggestion, and all the kings of the Elder Isles will be on hand."

Madouc said: "I return at a lucky time! If I had delayed two days longer, I would have been too late for the journey."

After a thoughtful pause she said: "And the history of the Elder Isles might have veered in sudden new directions."

"Eh? What is that you say?"

"It concerns a concept which you mentioned only moments ago."

"I recall no such concept."

"You mentioned ‘Destiny'."

"Oh, ah! So I did! I am still perplexed. What is the connection?"

"No matter. I spoke at random."

Cassander said, with pointed politeness: "I am obliged to mention once more that you are not in good odour at Haidion, and no one will be anxious to gratify your desires."

"To what effect?"

"It may be that you will not be asked to join the royal party."

"We shall see."

The group rode down the Sfer Arct, rounded the tree-covered bluff known as Skansea Vantage, and all of Lyonesse Town was spread wide before their eyes, with Castle Haidion bulking large in the foreground. Ten minutes later the troop turned into the King's Parade and halted in front of the castle. Cassander jumped to the ground and with a courtly flourish assisted Madouc to alight. "Now we shall see," said Cassander. "Do not expect a warm reception and you will not be disappointed. The most charitable term I have heard applied to you is ‘recklessly insubordinate.'"

"Those ideas are not correct, as I have already explained to you!"

Cassander gave a sardonic laugh. "You must prepare to explain again, and with considerably more humility, or so I would suggest."

Madouc made no comment. In a not unkindly voice Cassander said: "Come! I will take you into the presence of the king and queen, and perhaps in some degree soften their shock."

Madouc signalled to Sir Pom-Pom. "You must come too. We shall go in together."

Cassander looked from one to the other. "That is surely unnecessary!" He gestured toward Sir Pom-Pom. "Be off with you, boy; we need you no more. Get back to your duties as quickly and furtively as possible and make what peace you can with the stableemaster."

"Not so!" said Madouc. "Sir Pom-Pom must remain in our company, for a most important reason, as you will presently discover."

Cassander shrugged. "Just as you like; let us go do what must be done."

The three entered the castle. In the great gallery they came upon Sir Mungo the High Seneschal. Cassander asked: "Where are the king and queen to be found?"

"You will find them in the Green Parlour, Your Highness. They have just finished their repast, and now sit over cheese and wine."

"Thank you, good Sir Mungo." Cassander led the way to the Green Parlour, only to discover that King Casmir's place was empty. Queen Sollace sat with three of her favorites, all nibbling grapes from a wide wicker basket. Cassander stepped forward, and bowed politely: first to the queen, then to the other ladies, and the conversation stopped short. Cassander asked: "Where, may I ask, is His Highness the King?"

Queen Sollace, still unaware of Madouc's presence, said: "He has gone early to his Seat of Judgment, that he may perform his necessary acts of justice before we leave for Avallon."

Cassander brought Madouc forward, and announced with rather forced facetiousness: "I have here a pleasant surprise! Look who we found along the way!"

Queen Sollace stared at Madouc with mouth agape. The ladies-in-waiting made small hissing noises and titters of wonder and surprise. Queen Sollace closed her mouth with a snap. "So the little miscrecreant has decided to show herself again!"

Cassander said in a courtly voice: "Your Highness, I suggest that for the purpose of your consultation with the princess, privacy is appropriate."

"Quite so," said Sollace. "Ladies, be good enough to leave us now."

The ladies, with covert glances of curiosity toward Madouc and veiled annoyance for Cassander, departed the chamber. Queen Sollace again turned her gaze upon Madouc. "Now then, perhaps you will explain your truancy! It has been the source of our great concern. Tell us: where have you been hiding?"

"With all respect, Your Highness, I must state that you have been misinformed. I have not been hiding, nor have I performed any mischiefs. Indeed, I set forth on a quest which was sanctioned by His Majesty, the King, and I was expelled from your presence and from Haidion by your own words."

Queen Sollace blinked. "I remember none of this! You are formulating spiteful tales! The king was as nonplussed as I!"

"Surely he will remember the circumstances! At his behest I went to learn the identity of my father and the condition of my pedigree. I have acted only within the scope allowed me by Your Majesties!"

Sollace's face became mulish. "It is possible that one or the other made an absent-minded remark which you chose to twist to fit your own wishes. I deplore such tactics!"

"I am sorry to hear this, Your Majesty, especially since these tactics have worked to your great benefit!"

Once again Queen Sollace stared in wonder. "Do I hear you aright?"

"Indeed you do, Your Highness! Prepare yourself for an announcement which will stupefy you with joy!"

"Ha!" said Sollace sourly. "I cannot say that I am hopeful on this account."

Prince Cassander, standing to the side and smiling in lofty amusement, said: "We are listening with keen attention! Announce away!"

Madouc brought Sir Pom-Pom forward. "Your Highness, allow me to introduce Pymfyd, whom I have dubbed ‘Sir Pom-Pom', by reason of his bravery in my service. Sir Pom-Pom served as my loyal escort, and also went questing on your behalf. At Thripsey Shee we heard mention of the Holy Grail, and immediately became attentive."

Queen Sollace jerked herself erect. "What? Can it be so? Say on and quickly! You speak the dearest words my ear could hear! Was the information at all circumstantial? Tell me in exact terms what you learned!"

"We heard a rumour that the Grail was guarded by the ogre Throop of the Three Heads, and that a hundred brave knights had died in the attempt to liberate it."

"And where is it now! Speak! Tell me at once! I am beside myself with excitement!"

"Just so, Your Highness! Throop immured the Grail in a closet of his Castle Doldil, deep within the Forest of Tantrevalles."

"That is absolutely important news! We must assemble an army of gpodly knights and march on an expedition of deliverance! Cassander, go this instant to inform His Highness the King! All else is trivial."

"Hear me out, Your Highness!" cried Madouc. "I am not yet done! With advice from my mother Sir Pom-Pom and I presented ourselves at Castle Doldil; and there, with bravery unsurpassed, Sir Pom-Pom inflicted death upon Throop and won the Holy Grail, which he has carried back to Lyonesse Town wrapped in purple silk, and which he will now place before you. Sir Pom-Pom, you may present the Holy Grail."

"I cannot believe this!" cried Queen Sollace. "I am in a state of entrancement, or ecstasy of the ninth order!"

Sir Pom-Pom stepped forward and gravely removed the wrapping of purple silk from the chalice; on bended knee he placed the sacred object on the table before Queen Sollace. "Your Majesty, I hereby offer you this Holy Grail! I hope that you will cherish it with joy, and also that you will grant me the boon of my desires as stated in the king's proclamation."

Queen Sollace, her eyes fixed on the Grail, was numb to all else. "Glory of glories! I marvel that this unction has been yielded to me! I am confounded by rapture! It is beyond belief; it is beyond all ordinary scope!"

Madouc said primly: "Your Highness, I must call to your attention that you have Sir Pom-Pom to thank for the presentation of this Grail!"

"Indeed this is so! He has done a magnificent service for the Church, and on behalf of the Church I render him my full and royal thanks! He shall be well rewarded! Cassander, at this mo ment give the lad a gold piece as an earnest of my favor!"

Cassander brought a gold coin from his pouch and pressed it into Sir Pom-Pom's hand. "Do not thank me; thank the queen for her generosity!"

Queen Sollace called out to the footman who stood immobile by the door. "Bring Father Umphred here at once, that he may share our joy! Hurry, run on your fastest feet! Tell Father Umphred only that glorious news awaits him!"

Sir Mungo the High Seneschal entered the parlour. "Your Highness, I notified His Majesty in regard to the Princess Madouc. He wishes me to bring her and her companion to the Hall of Judgments."

Queen Sollace made an absent-minded gesture. "You have my permission to leave. Madouc, you too have worked for the Good, and in my great happiness I discharge you of blame for your transgressions! But in the future you must learn tractability!"

Sir Pom-Pom spoke diffidently: "Your Highness, what of the boon promised by the king? When should I make my wants known, and when will the boon be granted?"

Queen Sollace frowned somewhat impatiently. "In due course any feasible arrangements will be considered. In the meantime, you already have what is best of all: which is to say, the knowledge of how well you have served our Church and our Faith!"

Sir Pom-Pom stammered something incoherent, then bowed and backed away. Sir Mungo said: "Princess Madouc, you may come with me at this time, along with your companion."

Sir Mungo led the two by a side corridor into the ancient Old Hall, through a portal in a dank stone wall out upon a landing, from which a stone ramp descended past monumental stone columns to give into the solemn spaces of the Hall of Judgments.

On a low dais sat King Casmir, wearing the traditional vestments of judgment: a black robe with black gloves, a square of black velvet on his head with gold tassels dependent and a gold fillet above. He sat on a massive throne with a small table before him; to either side of the dais stood a pair of men-at-arms clad in shirts and breeches of black leather relieved only by epaulettes and brassards of black iron. Helmets of iron and leather clasped their faces, lending them a sinister aspect. Those unfortunate individuals awaiting judgment sat on a bench to one side of the hall, in attitudes of gloom. Those who had already been tortured stared blankly into space, eyes as empty as knotholes.

Sir Mungo brought Madouc and Sir Pom-Pom before the king. "Your Highness, I bring you the Princess Madouc and her companion, as you have requested."

King Casmir leaned back in his throne and, frowning, considered the two.

Madouc curtseyed primly. "I trust Your Majesty enjoys good health."

King Casmir's face altered by not so much as a quiver. At last he spoke. "It seems that Prince Cassander surprised you beside the road. Where have you been and what has been your mischief, to the disgrace of the royal house?"

Madouc spoke haughtily: "Your Majesty has been shamefully misinformed! Far from being surprised by Prince Cassander, we were returning at best speed to Lyonesse Town. Prince Cassander and his friends overtook us along the way. We neither lurked, skulked, hid, lied, nor in any way compromised our dignity. As for mischief and disgrace, Your Majesty again has been victimized by misinformation, since I did no more than obey your instructions."

King Casmir leaned forward, the pink rising in his already florid face. "I instructed you to skite off into the wilderness, taking neither proper escort nor proper protection?"

"Just so, Your Majesty! You ordered me to discover my pedigree as best I could, and not to trouble you with the details."

King Casmir slowly swung his head so as to stare at Sir Pom Pom. "You are the stableboy who supplied the horses?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Your folly in this respect verges upon criminal negligence. Do you think yourself a proper and adequate escort for a royal princess under such circumstances?"

"Yes, Your Majesty, since that has been my occupation. I have long served the princess faithfully and there has never been aught but approval for the quality of my service."

King Casmir leaned back once again. In a slow cold voice he inquired: "You perceive no more hazard in a long journey by night and day, through strange parts and dangerous wilderness, than an afternoon's outing in the meadows at Sarris?"

"Sire, there is a difference indeed. But you must know that, on the basis of your proclamation, I had already decided to go questing for holy relics."

"That is not germane to the wrongfulness of your conduct."

Madouc spoke out angrily: "Your Majesty, I commanded him to this conduct; he is guilty only of obedience to my orders."

"Ha hah! And if you had ordered him to set fire to Castle Haidion, so that it burned in roaring flames, and he did so, would that make him no more than a dutiful servant?"

"No, Your Majesty, but-"

"To fulfill his duty best he should have notified someone in authority of your demands, and requested official permission. I have heard enough. Bailiff, take this person behind the Peinhador for a flogging of seven strokes, for his better instruction in prudent conduct."

Madouc cried out: "Your Majesty, one moment! You are pronouncing sentence too roundly and too rapidly. Both Pymfyd and I went out on our separate quests, and both of us were successful. I learned the name of my father, while Pymfyd did you and the queen a notable service; he killed the ogre Throop and brought away the Holy Grail which he only just now presented to Her Majesty. She is ecstatic with joy! By your proclamation, Sir Pom-Pom has earned a boon!"

King Casmir smiled a small smile. "Bailiff, reduce the flogging to six strokes and allow this tow-headed gossoon the resumption of his post at the stable. That shall be his boon."

"Come, sirrah!" said the bailiff. "This way, come!" He led Sir Pom-Pom from the hall.

Madouc looked at King Casmir aghast. "But you gave me full permission to do what I did! You told me to take an escort, and always I had taken him before!"

King Casmir made a sharp gesture with his clenched right hand. "Enough! You must understand meanings rather than words. You thought to trick me and the fault is yours."

Madouc, looking into Casmir's eyes, saw new meanings and took new understandings, which caused her to flinch. She held her face composed, though now she hated Casmir with all her being.

King Casmir spoke: "You learned the identity of your father, then. What is his name?"

"He is a certain Sir Pellinore of Aquitaine, Your Majesty."

King Casmir considered. "Sir Pellinore? The name has a familiar ring. Somewhere I have encountered it; perhaps long ago."

He turned to the High Seneschal. "Bring me here Spargoy the Herald."

Spargoy the Chief Herald presented himself. "Sire, your wishes?"

"Who is Sir Pellinore of Aquitaine? Where is his seat and what are his connections?"

‘Sir Pellinore', Sire? Someone has spoken in jest." "What do you mean by that?"

"Sir Pellinore is a creature of fancy! He exists only in the romantic fables of Aquitaine, where he does marvellous deeds and woos lovely maidens and travels far and wide on wonderful quests! But that is all there is to Sir Pellinore."

King Casrnir looked at Madouc. "Well, then? What now?"

"Nothing," said Madouc. "Have I your leave to go?"

"Go"

V

Madouc went on laggard feet to her old chambers. She stood in the doorway looking to right and left, at objects and articles which at one time had brought her comfort. The rooms, which she had thought so large and airy, seemed barely adequate. She summoned a maid and ordered hot water for her bath. Using mild yellow soap imported from Andalusia, she scrubbed herself and her copper-gold curls, and rinsed in water scented with lavender. Looking through her wardrobe, she discovered that her old garments now fit her somewhat too snugly. Strange, thought Madouc; how quickly the time went by! She studied her legs; they were still taut and slender, but-was it her imagination?- they looked somehow different than she remembered them; and her breasts were at least perceptible, if anyone troubled to look.

Madouc gave a fatalistic sigh. The changes were coming faster than she might have liked. She finally found a costume which still fit her nicely; a loose skirt of pale blue homespun and a white blouse embroidered with blue flowers. She brushed out her curls and tied them back with a blue ribbon. Then she went to sit in her chair and look from the window.

There was much to reflect upon: so much that her mind whirled from place to place, with ideas darting in and out, never staying long enough to take full shape. She thought of Sir Pellinore, Twisk, King Casmir in his black robes, and poor Sir Pom-Pom with his stricken face. Here she averted her mind for fear that she would become sick. Zerling, were he to apply the strokes, would surely do so without undue energy, to allow Sir Pom-Pom the flesh and skin of his back.

Thoughts swirled around the edges of her attention like moths around a flame. One set of such thoughts was more persistent than the others and nagged at her notice, insisting on its importance. These thoughts were connected with the forthcoming visit of the royal family to Avallon. Madouc had not been invited to join the group, and half-suspected that neither Queen Sollace nor King Casmir would trouble to do so-even though Prince Cassander would be on hand, together with princes and princesses from other courts of the Elder Isles-including Prince Dhrun of Troicinet. And she would not be there! The idea brought her a queer little pang, of a sort she had never known before.

For a space Madouc sat looking from her window with the image of Dhrun before her mind. And she found herself yearning for his company. It was a sensation melancholy and hurtful, yet somehow pleasant, and so Madouc sat dreaming.

Another idea entered her mind: a notion at first casual and then gradually becoming harsh and grim and frightening as it took on dimension. At Falu Ffail were the Round Table Cairbra an Meadhan and Evandig, the ancient throne of the Palaernon kings. The first-born son of Suldrun-so went the rhyme of Persilian the Magic Mirror-would sit at Cairbra an Meadhan and rule from Evandig before his death. This prophecy, according to Twisk, had become King Casmir's torment and his preoccupation, so that his days were taken up with devious plots and his nights with schemes of murder.

At Falu Ffail King Casmir, the Round Table, the throne Evandig and Prince Dhrun would be in proximity. The situation could not have escaped the attention of King Casmir; indeed, according to Cassander, he had proposed the colloquy to King Audry.

Madouc jumped to her feet. She must be included in the party journeying to Avallon. If not, then she would once again take leave of Haidion, and this time she would never return.

Madouc found the queen in her private parlour, in company with Father Urnphred. Madouc entered so unobtrusively that Queen Sollace seemed not to notice her coming. At the center of a table, on a golden platter, rested the sacred blue chalice. Queen Sollace sat rapt in contemplation of the fabulous vessel. At her side Father Umphred stood, plump arms clasped behind his back, also engrossed in a study of the Grail. Elsewhere around the chamber a number of the queen's intimates sat murmuring together, pitching their voices at a low level so as not to disturb the queen in her reverie.

Father Umphred noticed Madouc's arrival. Bending, he spoke into the queen's ear. Sollace raised her head and looked half blankly around the chamber. She saw Madouc and beckoned. "Come hither, Princess! There is much we would know."

Madouc advanced and performed a grave curtsey. "I am at the disposal of Your Highness, of course, and I have much to tell. It will be, I am sure, to your great fascination."

"Speak! We wish to hear all!"

"Your Highness, allow me a suggestion! The telling will dissolve boredom during the journey to Avallon. If I tell you bits and incidents piecemeal, you will not appreciate the scope of our adventure nor the desperate manner in which we won the Grail."

"Ha, hmm," said Queen Sollace. "I had not expected that you would be attending us on the journey. But, now that I reflect, it seems quite appropriate. There will be a number of notables present at King Audry's court, and perhaps you will attract favorable attention."

"In that case, Your Highness, I must immediately enlarge my wardrobe, since none of my old gowns are now suitable."

"We will instantly take this matter in hand. Two nights and a day intervene before our departure; this should be time enough." Queen Sollace signalled to one of her maids. "Have the seamstresses set to work at once. I stipulate not only haste and creditable workmanship, but also color and style appropriate to Madouc's years and innocence. There need be no bedizenry of precious gems or yellow gold; such adjuncts would go unnoticed on this barely female slip of a kitkin."

"As your Highness commands! I suggest that the princess come with me now, that the work may be expedited!"

"Sensible and to the point! Madouc, you have my leave to go."

VI

The dressmakers brought out their fabrics, and consulted among themselves as to the nature and scope of their undertaking. Madouc, still smarting from Queen Sollace's deprecatory instructions, listened with head cocked sidewise. At last she intervened. "You are talking for naught! I want none of your sallow yellows or pasty ecrus or horse-vomit greens, and you must reconsider your styles!" the senior seamstress, spoke with concern. "How so, Your Highness? We are bound to sew what is genteel and suitable!"

"You are bound to sew what I will consent to wear; otherwise your work will be wasted."

"Of course, Your Highness! We want you to be happy and at ease in your garments!"

"Then you must sew as I direct. I will not wear these blooming pantaloons or these bloodless bodices that you are discussing."

"Ah, Your Highness, these are what young maidens of your age are wearing."

"That is the least of my concerns."

Hulda sighed. "Ah well, then! How does Your Highness wish to be dressed?"

Madouc indicated a bolt of cornflower blue and another of nubbled white linen. "Use this and this. And here: what is this?"

She pulled from the case a somewhat scant bolt of dark red velvet, soft of texture, of color so deep as to verge upon black.

"That is a hue known as ‘Black Rose'," said Hulda in a dispirited voice. "It is quite unsuitable for a person of your age, and also, it is little more than a scrap."

Madouc paid no heed. "This is a most beautiful stuff. Also, there seems to be just enough to wrap around my skin."

Hulda said hurriedly: "There is not enough cloth for a proper girl's gown, with such pleats, flounces, swags and fullness as style and modesty dictate."

"Then I will have a gown without these decorations, because I am ravished by the color."

Hulda attempted expostulation, but Madouc would not listen. She pointed out that time was limited and that the gown of Black Rose velvet must be cut and sewed before all else, and so it was, despite Hulda's misgivings. "Truly, the material is scanty! The gown will fit you more explicitly than your age would seem to necessitate."

"That is as may be," said Madouc. "I believe the costume will have great charm, and for some strange reason the color is in accord with my hair."

"I must admit that the gown will probably become you," said Hulda grudgingly. "If in a manner somewhat premature."