Suldrun's Garden

Chapter 3

SULDRUN AWOKE TO A COLD GRAY ROOM and a dismal wet light from outside her windows: the rains had returned and the chambermaid had neglected to build up the fires. Suldrun waited a few minutes, then resignedly slid from her bed and with shanks shivering to the chill, dressed herself and combed out her hair.

The maid at last appeared, and hurriedly built the fires, fearful lest Suldrun might denounce her to Dame Boudetta, but the lapse had already slipped from Suldrun's mind.

She went to stand by the window. Rain blurred the panorama; the harbor was a rain-puddle; the tiled roofs of the town were ten thousand shapes in many tones of gray. Where had the color gone?

Color! What peculiar stuff! It glowed in the sunlight, but in the dimness of rain it faded: most peculiar. Suldrun's breakfast arrived and as she ate she pondered the paradoxes of color. Red and blue, green and purple, yellow and orange, brown and black: each with its character and special quality, yet impalpable...

Suldrun went down to the library for her lessons. Her tutor was now Master Jaimes, archivist, scholar, and librarian to the '

court of King Casmir. Suldrun had at first found him a daunting figure of severity and precision, for he was tall and thin, and a great thin beak of a nose gave him the look of a predatory bird.

Master Jaimes was a few years past the first wild urgencies of youth, but not yet old nor even middle-aged. His coarse black hair was cut level with his mid-forehead clear around the scalp, to hang in a shelf over his ears; his skin was parchment pale; his arms and legs were long and as gaunt as his torso; nevertheless he carried himself with dignity and even an odd ungainly grace. He was sixth son to Sir Crinsey of Hredec, an estate comprising thirty acres of stony hillside, and had gained nothing from his father but gentle birth. He resolved to teach Princess Suldrun with dispassionate formality, but Suldrun quickly learned how to charm and befuddle him. He fell hopelessly in love with her, though he pretended that the emotion was no more than easy tolerance. Suldrun who was perceptive when she put her mind to it, saw through his attempts at airy detachment and took charge of the learning process, as when Master Jaimes frowned at her writing and said: "These A's and G's look quite alike. We must do them all over, in a careful hand."

"But the quill is broken!"

"Then sharpen it! Carefully now, do not cut yourself. It is a knack you must learn."

"Oo-ow—oo!"

"Did you cut yourself?"

"No. I was just practicing in case I did."

"You need not practice. Cries of pain come quite easily and naturally."

"How far have you traveled?"

"What has that to do with cutting a quill?"

"I wonder if the students in far places, like Africa, cut their quills differently."

"As to that I can't say."

"How far have you traveled?"

"Oh—not too far. I studied at the university in Avallon, and also at Metheglin. Once I visited Aquitania."

"What is the farthest place of the whole world?"

"Hmn. That is hard to say. Cathay? The far side of Africa?"

"That can't be the proper answer!"

"Oh? In that case, please instruct me."

"There is no such place; something farther always lies beyond."

"Yes. Perhaps so. Let me cut the quill. There, just so. Now as to the A's and G's..."

On the rainy morning when Suldrun went into the library for lessons, she found Master Jaimes already on hand, with a dozen quills cut and ready. "Today," said Master Jaimes, "you must write your name, in whole and full, and with such exquisite skill that I will exclaim in surprise."

"I will do my best," said Suldrun. "These are beautiful quills."

"Excellent indeed."

"The plumes are all white."

"I believe that is true."

"This ink is black. I think black plumes would be better for black ink."

"I don't think the difference is noticeable."

"We could try white ink with these white plumes."

"I have no white ink, nor yet black parchment. So now—"

"Master Jaimes, this morning I wondered about colors. Where do they come from? What are they?"

Master Jaimes blinked and tilted his head to the side. "Colors?

They exist. Everywhere we see color."

"But they come and go. What are they?"

"Well, truthfully, I don't know. How clever of you to ask the question. Red things are red and green things are green, and that would seem to be that."

Suldrun smilingly shook her head. "Sometimes, Master Jaimes, I think I know as much as you."

"Do not reproach me. Do you see those books yonder? Plato and Cnessus and Rohan and Herodotus—I have read them all, and I have learned only how much I do not know."

"What of the magicians? Do they know everything?"

Master Jaimes slouched his awkward length back in his chair and gave up all hopes for a formal and correct atmosphere. He looked out the library window, and presently said: "When I still lived at Hredec—I was little more than a lad—I became friendly with a magician." Glancing at Suldrun he saw that he had captured her attention. "His name was Shimrod. One day I visited his house Trilda, and forgot all about time. Night came and I was far from home. Shimrod caught a mouse and changed it into a fine horse.

'Ride home at speed,' he told me. 'Do not dismount or touch the ground before your destination, for as soon as your foot touches ground, the horse is once more a mouse!'

"And so it was. I rode in style, to the envy of those who saw me, and I took care to dismount behind the stable, so that none would know that I had been riding a mouse.

"Alas! We are wasting time." He straightened up in his chair. "Now then, take up your pen, dip ink, and inscribe me a good R, as you will need to write your name."

"But you have not answered my question!"

"'Do magicians know everything?' The answer is no. Now: the characters, in a fine square hand."

"Oh Master Jaimes, today I am bored with writing. Teach me magic instead."

"Ha! If I knew magic, would I be frousting here at two florins a week? No, no, my princess, I have better schemes in mind! I would take two fine mice and change them to a pair of beautiful horses and I would become a handsome young prince not much older than you, and we would go riding away over hill and dale; to a wonderful castle in the clouds, and there we would dine; on strawberries and cream and listen to the music of harps and fairy bells. Alas, I know no magic. I am the wretched Master Jaimes, and you are sweet mischievous Suldrun who won't learn I her letters."

"No," said Suldrun in sudden decision. "I'll work very hard so that I can read and write, and do you know why? So that I may learn magic, and you need only learn to catch mice."

Master Jaimes uttered a queer choked laugh. He reached across the table and took her two hands. "Suldrun, you already know I magic."

For a moment they smiled at each other, then in sudden embarrassment, Suldrun bowed her head over her work.

The rains continued. Master Jaimes, walking abroad in the cold and wet, caught a fever and could not teach. No one troubled to notify Suldrun and she went down to the library to find it empty. For a time she practiced writing, and looked through a leatherbound book brought down from Northumbria, illuminated with exquisite depictions of saints in landscapes wrought in vivid inks.

At last Suldrun put the book aside and went out into the hall.

The time was now mid-morning, and servants were busy in the Long Gallery. Undermaids polished the flagstones with beeswax and lambskin; a footman stalking on ten-foot stilts replenished the sconces with oil of nenuphar. From outside the palace, muffled by the intervening walls, came the blare of clarions, announcing the arrival of notables. Looking along the gallery, Suldrun saw them enter the reception hall: three grandees, stamping and shaking the rain from their garments. Footmen hastened forward to relieve them of their cloaks, helmets and swords. From the side a herald raised his voice to its most resonant pitch. "From the Realm of Dahaut, three noble personages! I declare their identities: Lenard, Duke of Mech! Milliflor, Duke of Cadwv and Josselm! Imphal, Marquis of the Celtic March!"

King Casmir stepped forward. "Sirs, I give you welcome to Haidion!"

The three grandees performed a ritual genuflection, bobbing their right knees toward the floor, rising to hold hands out from the sides with head and shoulders still bent. The circumstances indicated an occasion of formal but less than ceremonial import.

King Casmir returned them a gracious wave of the hand. "Sirs, for now I suggest that you make haste to your chambers, where warm fires and dry clothing will bring you comfort. In due course we will exchange our counsels."

Sir Milliflor responded: "Thank you, King Casmir. In truth we are wet; the cursed rain has allowed us no respite!"

The visitors were ushered away. King Casmir turned down the gallery. He noticed Suldrun and stopped short. "Eh then, what's this? Why are you not at lessons?"

Suldrun thought to gloss over Master Jaimes' absence from his duties. "I have only just finished my work for the day. I can write all the characters well, and I can use them to make up words. This morning I read a great book about the Christians."

"Ha, so read you did? Characters and all?"

"Not all the characters, Father. They were uncial and the language was Latin. I have trouble with both. But I scanned the pictures carefully, and Master Jaimes tells me that I am doing well."

"That is good to hear. Still, you must learn proper comportment and not go strolling up and down the gallery unattended."

Suldrun spoke in apprehension: "Father, sometimes I prefer to be alone."

Casmir, faintly frowning, stood with feet apart and hands behind his back. He disliked opposition to his judgments, especially from a girl so small and inexperienced. In a measured voice intended to define the facts with exactitude and finality he said: "Your preference must on occasion yield to the forces of reality."

"Yes, Father."

"You must hold in mind your importance. You are the Princess Suldrun of Lyonesse! Soon the quality of the world will be coming to woo you in marriage, and you must not seem a hoyden. We want to pick and choose, for the best advantage to yourself and the kingdom!"

Suldrun said uncertainly, "Father, marriage is nothing I care to think about."

Casmir narrowed his eyes. Again: the hint of wilfulness! In reply he used a voice of bluff jocularity. "I should hope not! You are only just a child! Still, you are never too young to be conscious of position. Do you understand the word 'diplomacy'?"

"No, Father."

"It means dealing with other countries. Diplomacy is a delicate game, like a dance. Troicinet, Dahaut, Lyonesse, the Ska and the Celts, all in pirouettes, all ready to join in threes or fours to deal the outsiders their death-blow. I must ensure that Lyonesse is not excluded from the quadrille. Do you understand my meaning?"

Suldrun considered. "I think so. I'm happy that I must not do any such dancing."

Casmir stood back, wondering whether she might have perceived his meaning all too well. He said shortly: "That's all for now; be off with you to your proper quarters! I will speak to Lady Desdea; she will find you a suitable set of companions." Suldrun started to explain that she needed no new companions, but glancing up into King Casmir's face, she held her tongue and turned away.

In order to obey King Casmir's command in its exact and literal sense, Suldrun ascended to her chambers in the East Tower. Dame Maugelin sat snoring in a chair, with her head thrown back.

Suldrun looked out the window, to discover the steady fall of rain. She thought a moment, then slipped past Dame Maugelin into her dressing-room and changed into a frock woven from dark green linen. With a final demure over-the-shoulder glance toward Dame Maugelin she left the chambers. King Casmir's order had been obeyed; if he chanced to see her she could demonstrate as much by her change of garments.

Daintily, step by step, she descended the stairs to the Octagon.

Here she halted to look and listen. The Long Gallery was empty; no sound. She wandered an enchanted palace where everyone drowsed.

Suldrun ran to the Great Hall. The gray light which managed to seep through the high windows was lost in the shadows. On silent feet, she went to a tall narrow portal in the long wall, looked over her shoulder, mouth twitching up at the corners. Then she tugged open the massive door and slipped into the Hall of Honors.

The light, as in the Great Hall, was gray and dim, and the solemnity of the chamber was enhanced. As always, fifty-four tall chairs ranged the walls to left and right and all seemed to stare in brooding disdain at the table which, with four attendant and lesser chairs, had been placed at the center of the room.

Suldrun surveyed the interloping furniture with equal disapproval.

It intruded into the space between the tall chairs, and impeded their easy intercourse. Why would anyone do so clumsy a deed? No doubt the arrival of the three grandees had dictated the arrangement. The thought stopped Suldrun in her tracks. She decided to depart the Hall of Honors at once... But not quickly enough. From outside the door: voices. Suldrun, startled, froze into a statue. Then she ran back and forth in confusion, and finally darted behind the throne.

At her back lay the dark red gonfalon. Suldrun slipped through the slit in the fabric into the storage room. By standing close to the hanging and twitching open the slit, Suldrun watched a pair of footmen enter the hall. Today they wore splendid ceremonial livery: scarlet puff-pantaloons, black and red striped hose, black shoes with curled tips, ocher tabards embroidered with the Tree of Life. They paced around the room setting alight the wall sconces.

Two other footmen carried in a pair of heavy black iron candelabra, which they set on the table. The candles, each two inches thick and molded from bayberry wax, were also set alight; Suldrun had never seen the Hall of Honors so resplendent.

She began to feel annoyed with herself. She was the Princess Suldrun and need not hide from footmen; still, she remained in concealment. News traveled quickly among the corridors of Haidion; if the footmen saw her, soon Dame Maugelin would know, then Dame Boudetta, and who knows how high the story might rise?

The footmen completed their preparations and retired from the room, leaving the doors open.

Suldrun stepped out into the chamber. Beside the throne she paused to listen, face slantwise, fragile and pale, alive with excitement. Suddenly bold, she ran out across the chamber. She heard new sounds: the jingle of metal, the tramp of heavy footsteps; in a panic she turned and ran back behind the throne.

Looking over her shoulder she glimpsed King Casmir in full panoply of might and majesty. He marched into the Hall of Honors, head high, chin and short blond beard jutting. The flames from the sconces reflected from his crown: a simple gold band under a circlet of silver laurel leaves. He wore a long black cape trailing almost to his heels, black and brown doublet, black trousers, black ankle-boots. He carried no weapon and wore no ornament. His face as usual was cold and impassive. To Suldrun he seemed the embodiment of awful pomp; she dropped to her hands and knees and crawled under the gonfalon into the back room. Finally she dared to stand erect and peer through the slit. King Casmir had failed to notice a twitching of the gonfalon. He stood by the table with his back to Suldrun, hands on the chair in front of him.

Heralds entered the room, two by two, to the number of eight, each bearing a standard displaying the Lyonesse Tree of Life. They took positions along the back wall. Into the room marched the three grandees who had arrived earlier in the day.

King Casmir stood waiting until the three had separated to stand by their chairs, then seated himself, followed by his three guests.

Stewards placed beside each man a silver chalice which the chief steward filled with dark red wine from an alabaster pitcher. He then bowed and departed the room, and after him, the footmen and then the heralds. The four sat alone at the table.

King Casmir held aloft his chalice. "I propose joy to our hearts, fulfillment to our needs and success to those goals which we hold in mutuality."

The four men drank wine. King Casmir said: "Now then, to our affairs. We sit in informality and privacy; let us speak in candor, without restraint. Such a discussion will yield benefit to us all."

"We will take you at your word," spoke Sir Milliflor. He smiled a thin smile. "Still, I doubt if our hearts' desires run quite so closely in conjunction as you envision."

"Let me define a position which all of us must endorse," said King Casmir. "I cite the memory of the olden times, when a single rule maintained a halcyon peace. Since then we have known incursions, pillage, war and suspicion. The two Ulflands are poisonous wastes, where only the Ska, robbers and wild beasts dare walk abroad. The Celts are suppressed only by dint of constant vigilance, as Sir Imphal will attest."

"I do so attest," said Sir Imphal.

"Then I will put the matter into simple terms," said King Casmir.

"Dahaut and Lyonesse must work in concert. With this combined force under a single command, we can drive the Ska out of the Ulflands, and subdue the Celts. Next Dascinet, then Troicinet; and the Elder Isles are once more whole. First: the merging of our two lands."

Sir Milliflor spoke. "Your statements are beyond debate. We are halted by a set of questions: Who becomes preeminent? Who leads the armies? Who rules the realm?"

"These are blunt questions," said King Casmir. "Let the answers wait until we are agreed in principle, then we will examine such possibilities."

Sir Milliflor said: "We are agreed on the principles. Let us now explore the real issues. King Audry sits on the ancient throne Evandig; will you concede his preeminence?"

"I cannot do so. Still, we can rule in tandem as equals. Neither King Audry nor Prince Dorcas are stern soldiers. I will command the armies; King Audry shall conduct the diplomacy."

Sir Lenard uttered a grim laugh. "At the first difference of opinion the armies might well overcome the diplomats."

King Casmir also laughed. "That condition need not arise. Let King Audry rule supreme until his death. Then I will rule until my death. Prince Dorcas shall succeed me. In the event that he breeds no sons. Prince Cassander will be next in line."

"That is an interesting concept," said Sir Milliflor drily. "King Audry is old, and you are relatively young; need I remind you?

Prince Dorcas might wait thirty years for his crown."

"Possibly so," said King Casmir without interest.

"King Audry has instructed us," said Sir Milliflor. "His anxieties are similar to yours, but he is wary of your notorious ambitions.

He suggests that you would like Dahaut to engage the Ska, thereby allowing you to attack Troicinet."

King Casmir sat silent a moment, then stirred and spoke. "Will Audry agree to a joint effort against the Ska?"

"He will indeed, if the armies are under his command."

"Has he no alternate proposals?"

"He notes that the Princess Suldrun will soon arrive at marriageable age. He suggests the possibility of betrothal between Princess Suldrun and Prince Whemus of Dahaut."

King Casmir leaned back in his chair. "Whemus is his third son?"

"That is true, your Majesty."*

*The honorifics of the time are modified by a hundred special cases. It is impossible to translate them into contemporary terms with both crispness and accuracy; they will therefore be rendered in more familiar, if simplistic, terms.

King Casmir smiled and touched his short blond beard. "Let us, rather, unite his first daughter, the Princess Cloire, with my nephew Sir Nonus Roman."

"We will dutifully convey your suggestion to the court at Avallon."

King Casmir drank from the chalice; the emissaries courteously drank as well. King Casmir looked from face to face. "Are you then merely messengers? Or in truth can you negotiate?"

Sir Milliflor said: "We may negotiate within the limits set by our instructions. Would you care to rephrase your proposal in the simplest way, without euphemism?"

King Casmir picked up the chalice in his two hands, held it to chin level, and turned his pale blue eyes over the top. "I propose that the assembled might of Lyonesse and Dahaut, under my command, attack the Ska and drive them back out across the Atlantic, and that next we subdue the Celts. I propose that we join our kingdoms not only through cooperation but also through marriage. Either Audry or I will die first. The survivor shall thereupon rule the joint kingdoms, to be known as the Kingdom of The Elder Isles, in the old fashion. My daughter Princess Suldrun shall marry the Prince Dorcas. My son Prince Cassander shall marry—suitably. So much I propose."

"The proposal has much in common with our position," said Sir Lenard. "King Audry prefers that military operations conducted on the soil of Dahaut be commanded by himself. Secondly—"

The negotiations proceeded another hour, but only emphasized the mutual inflexibility. Since nothing more had been expected the conversations ended on a polite basis. The envoys departed the Hall of Honors, that they might rest before the evening's banquet, while King Casmir remained brooding alone at the table. In the back room Suldrun watched in fascination, then in panic as King Casmir picked up one of the candelabra, turned and with heavy steps walked toward the back chamber.

Suldrun stood paralyzed. Her presence was known! She turned, darted to the side, ducked into the corner beside a storage case, and pulled a fragment of old rag over her shining hair.

The hangings parted; candlelight flickered through the chamber.

Suldrun crouched, awaiting the voice of King Casmir. But he stood in silence, nostrils dilated, perhaps sensing the fragrance of the lavender sachet in which Suldrun's clothes were laid. He looked over his shoulder, then went to the back wall. From a crevice he took a thin iron rod, which he pushed into a small hole at the level of his knee, then into another somewhat higher. A door opened, emitting a light quivering and almost palpable, like a flickering alternation of purple and green. Out from the room flowed the thrilling tingle of magic. A pair of high-pitched voices produced a babbling outcry.

"Silence," said King Casmir. He entered the room and closed the door.

Suldrun jumped from the corner and departed the room. She ran across the Hall of Honors, slipped out into the Great Hall and thence to the Long Gallery. Once more, she went sedately to her rooms, where Dame Maugelin scolded her for soiled clothes and a dirty face.

Suldrun bathed, dressed in a warm robe. She went to the window with her lute and pretended to practice, making such energetic discords that Dame Maugelin threw up her hands and went elsewhere.

Suldrun was left alone. She put the lute aside and sat looking across the landscape. The time was late afternoon; the weather had broken; sunlight glistened on the wet roofs of Lyonesse Town.

Slowly, incident by incident, Suldrun reviewed the events of the day.

The three envoys from Dahaut interested her little, except that they wanted to take her away to Avallon and marry her to a strange man. Never! She would run away; she would become a peasant, or a minstrel girl, or gather mushrooms in the woods! The secret room behind the Hall of Honors in itself seemed neither extraordinary nor remarkable. In fact, it only corroborated certain of her halfformed suspicions regarding King Casmir, who wielded such absolute and awful power!

Dame Maugelin returned to the room, panting in haste and excitement. "Your father commands you to the banquet. He wishes you to be everything a beautiful princess of Lyonesse should be.

Do you hear? You may wear your blue velvet gown and your moonstones. At all times remember court etiquette! Don't spill your food; drink very little wine. Speak only when you are addressed, then respond with courtesy and without chewing your words. Neither titter, nor scratch yourself, nor wriggle in your chair as if your bottom itched. Do not belch, gurgle or gulp. If someone breaks wind, do not stare or point or attempt to place the blame. Naturally you will control yoursell as well; nothing is more conspicuous than a farting princess. Come! I must brush your hair."

In the morning Suldrun went to take her lessons in the library, but again Master Jaimes was not on hand, nor on the day after, nor the day after. Suldrun became a trifle miffed. Surely Master Jaimes might have communicated with her despite his indisposition.

For an entire week she ostentatiously absented herself from the library, but still no word from Master Jaimes!

In sudden alarm Suldrun sought out Dame Boudetta, who sent a footman to Master Jaimes' bleak little cell in the West Tower. The footman discovered Master Jaimes outstretched and dead on his pallet. His fever had become pneumonia, and he had died with no one the wiser.