The Green Pearl

Chapter 3

WATERSHADE HAD BEEN BUILT during a long-past time of troubles, to guard the traffic on Janglin Water and to over-awe the warrior knights of the Ceald, and never had it so much as come under assault.

The castle stood at the very edge of the lake, with part of the barrel-shaped keep rising from the water itself. Low conical roofs capped both the keep and the four squat towers adjoining. Trees overshadowed both towers and keep, and softened the castle's mass, while the quaint conical roofs seemed almost comically inadequate to the task of sheltering the heavy structures below.

Aillas' father Ospero had built a terrace around the base of the keep, where it shouldered into the lake. On many a summer evening, while sunset faded into dusk, Aillas and Ospero, perhaps with guests, took supper on the terrace, and often, if the company was good, sat long over nuts and wine and watched the stars come out.

On the shore grew several large fig trees, which during the heat of summer exhaled a pervasive sweetness attracting countless droning insects; the boy Aillas was not infrequently stung as he clambered among the smooth gray boughs after fruit.

The keep encompassed a great round hall containing a dining table in the shape of a C thirty feet in diameter at which fifty persons could sit in comfort, or sixty with somewhat less elbow-room. Ospero's library occupied the floor above, along with a gallery, several parlours and retiring rooms. The towers housed airy bed-chambers and pleasant sitting-rooms for the lord of the castle, his family and guests.

When the court moved to Domreis the moat was neglected and at last became a quagmire choked with reeds, blackberry thicket and scrub willow. Fetid odors rose from the slime and at last Aillas ordained restoration. Work-gangs were employed three months; then finally the gates were opened and fresh water rushed once again into the channel, though the moat now served only domestic purposes. During storms boats were brought in from the lake and moored in the moat. Ducks and geese paddled among the reeds, and the calm waters were fished for carp, eels and pike.

For Aillas, Watershade was the scene of his most pleasant memories, and across the years changes were few. Weare and Flora now used the titles ‘Seneschal' and ‘Chatelaine of the House'. Cern, once a stable-boy and Aillas' playmate, had become ‘Under-Master of the Royal Stable'. Tauncy, the one-time bailiff, had gone lame. As ‘Master Vintner to the Royal Estates', he controlled the work of Aillas' winery.

After long delay, and only at the behest of Weare, Aillas agreed to move into his father's old chambers, while Dhrun took over those rooms once used by Aillas.

"So it must be," Weare told Aillas. "There is no stopping the fall of the autumn leaves, nor the coming of new leaves in the spring. As I have often remarked to Dame Flora, you are perhaps over-inclined to sentimentality. Now, all has changed! How can you hope to rule a kingdom if you are too timid to venture from your childhood nursery?"

"Weare, dear fellow, you have put a hard question! If truth be known, I am not anxious to rule a kingdom, much less three. When I am here at Watershade, it all seems a joke!"

"Nevertheless, things are as they are, and I have heard good reports of you. Now it is only proper that you occupy the High Chambers."

Aillas gave an uncomfortable grimace. "No doubt but what you are right, and you shall have your way. Still I feel my father's presence everywhere! If you must have the truth, sometimes I think to see his ghost standing on the balcony, or looking into the embers when the fire burns low."

Weare made a scornful sound. "What of that? I see good Sir Ospero often. On moonlight nights, should I step into the library, he will be sitting in his chair. He turns to look at me, and his face is placid. I suspect that he loved Watershade so dearly that even in death he can not bear to depart."

"Very well," said Aillas. "I hope that Sir Ospero. will forgive my intrusion. I will change none of his arrangements."

Again Weare found cause for protest. "Now then, lad! That is not as he would want it, since he loved you as well! The chambers are now yours and you must arrange them to your own taste, not to those of a ghost."

"So it shall be! Well then, what would you suggest?"

"First, a good scraping, scouring and re-waxing of the woodwork. Then a careful over-wash of the plaster. The green, so I have noticed, tends to go dingy with time; why not try a nice pale blue with yellow for the moldings?"

"Perfect! Exactly what is needed! Weare, you have a rare talent for such matters!"

"Also, while we are on the subject, perhaps we should renovate the Lady Glyneth's chambers. I will of course consult with her, but I suggest that we plaster over the stone and use washes of pink and white and yellow, for good cheer and happy awakenings!"

"Just so! Look to it, Weare, if you will!"

In the case of Glyneth, Aillas had fixed upon her a pretty little estate in a valley not far from Domreis, but she showed no great interest in the property and much preferred Watershade. Now fifteen years old, Glyneth, for the grace and charm of her own life, and the enlivenment of her friends, used a mingling of limpid simplicity and sunny optimism, together with a joyous awareness of the world's absurdities. During the previous year she had grown taller by an inch, and though she liked to wear a boy's trousers and blouse, only a person blind to beauty could mistake her for a boy.

Dame Flora, however, considered not only her garments but her conduct unconventional. "My dear, what will folk think? When does a princess sail out on the lake in a cockboat? When does one find her climbing trees and perching among the owls? Or wandering the Wild Woods alone like a hoyden?"

"I wish I might meet such a princess," said Glyneth. "She would make me a fine companion; our tastes would be exactly alike!"

"I doubt if two like her exist!" declared Dame Flora. "It is time that this present princess learns the uses of propriety, so that she will not disgrace herself at court."

"Dame Flora, have pity! Would you cast me out, perhaps into the cold and rain, merely because I cannot sew a fine seam?"

"Never, my darling! But we must observe, we must learn, and we must practice the dictates of etiquette! You have reached the age and come into certain attributes of the body which make trousers altogether unsuitable, and we must plan for you a wardrobe of pretty frocks."

"Still, we must be practical! How can I jump a fence in a pretty frock? Ask yourself that!"

"It is not necessary that you jump fences! I jump no fences. Lady Vaudris of Hanch Hall jumps no fences. Before long suitors of high degree will be trooping out here by the score to ask your hand in marriage. When they arrive and wish to pay their respects, and when they ask, I must say: ‘You will find her somewhere about the estate, either here or there.' So off they go to look, and what will they think when they find you dangling in a tree, or catching frogs in the moat?"

"They will think that they do not want to marry me, which is exactly to my taste."

At this, Dame Flora aimed a spank at Glyneth's bottom, but Glyneth dodged nimbly aside. "That is the art of agility."

"Shameless little hussy, you will come to a bad end!" Flora spoke without heat, and indeed she was grinning to herself. A moment later, for a special treat, she gave Glyneth a dish of lemon cakes.

Glyneth wore her curling golden hair loose, or tied with a black ribbon. While apparently artless, she sometimes indulged in games of mild flirtation, which she played as a kitten pretends the predacity of the jungle. Often she used Aillas as the subject of her experiments, until Aillas, gritting his teeth and turning his eyes to the sky, by main force of will drew back lest he take the game into an area where relationships might forever be altered.

Sometimes, lying abed of nights, he wondered what went on in Glyneth's mind, and how serious she was in her play. Always at these times other images came to disturb him.

These were no longer dreary recollections of the secret garden at Haidion. Suldrun had long become a misty shape lost and gone across the gulfs of time. Another more vital figure marched through Aillas' mind. Her name was Tatzel; she was Ska, and she lived at Castle Sank in North Ulfland. Tatzel's style was unique. She was slim as a wand, with dark hair hanging loose past her ears; her complexion, like that of all the Ska, was pale olive; her eyes glowed with intelligence. Aillas had seen her most usually striding along the main gallery of the castle, looking neither right nor left. She took no notice of Aillas; as a slave, he was of less concern to her than a chair.

Aillas could not easily define his feelings toward Tatzel. There was resentment and challenge, generated by his abraded self-esteem, but other more subtle yearnings had brought him queer little pangs whenever she walked past unseeing; he wanted to step forward to where she must stop to notice him, to look into his eyes and take heed of his own prideful being. Never could he have dared to touch her; she would have instantly cried out for the guards and Aillas would have been dragged away in disgrace, perhaps even to the gelding-board and a future too awful to contemplate, with both his manhood and all hope of Tatzel's good opinion forever lost and gone.

When finally Aillas had escaped Castle Sank in company with Cargus and Yane, he had turned at one point, and, looking back, had muttered: "Tatzel, take heed! Someday we shall meet again, and on different terms, so it may be!" And such was the phantom haunting Aillas' mind.

II

AFTER PASSING THE NIGHT AT HAG HARBOUR, and at noon crossing over Green Man's Gap, Aillas and Tristano late in the afternoon rode clattering across the drawbridge and into the stable-yard at Watershade. Dhrun and Glyneth ran out to greet them, followed by Weare, Flora and others of the household, while Shimrod* waited in the shadow of the arched passage leading out upon the terrace.

*Shimrod, while wandering the Daul countryside as ‘Doctor Fidelius. Charlatan and Mender of Sore Knees', had befriended a pair of vagabond children named Dhrun and Glyneth, and thereafter the three had traveled together.

Across the years Shimrod had changed little. A long nose, crooked mouth and gaunt cheeks gave his face a droll cast; he retained his spare physique, pale gray eyes under half-closed lids, and as ever wore his light brown hair cut short in the peasant style. See LYONESSE 1: Suldrun's Garden.

The travelers retired to their chambers to refresh themselves, then came down to the terrace, where Weare served the best supper his larders could afford, and the company sat long while the afterglow faded and dusk became night.

Tristano told of the green pearl and its sinister infection. "I am baffled by the power of the object! It seemed a true pearl, except for its colour, which was the green of sea-water! Shimrod, what do you make of it?"

"I am ashamed to admit that, for me, in the realm of magic there is far more unknown than known. The green pearl is beyond my conjecture."

"It might have been the brain-stone of a demon," mused Glyneth. "Or perhaps a goblin's egg."

"Or a basilisk's eye," suggested Dhrun.

Glyneth said thoughtfully: "There is a valuable lesson here, say, for a youth in his formative years, like Dhrun. Never steal or rob objects of value, especially if they are green!"

"Good advice!" declared Tristano. "In cases of this sort, honesty is the best policy."

"You have frightened and daunted me," said Dhrun. "I will stop stealing at once."

"Unless, of course, it is something nice for me," said Glyneth. Tonight, perhaps to please Dame Flora, she wore a white frock and a silver fillet enameled with white daisies to contain her hair; she made a charming picture, to which Tristano was by no means oblivious.

Tristano said modestly: "My conduct at least was exemplary. I took the pearl only as a public service and I gave it up willingly to one less fortunate in his birth than myself."

Dhrun said: "Here, evidently, you refer to the dog, since we have no knowledge of the robber's lineage."

Glyneth spoke severely: "Your treatment of the dog was truly rather heartless! You should have brought the pearl to Shimrod."

"So that he might feed it to me in a sausage?" demanded Shimrod. "I prefer it otherwise."

"Poor Shimrod!" murmured Aillas. "Foaming at the mouth, running down the road at full speed, halting only to bite passers-by!"

Glyneth said with dignity: "Shimrod could properly dispose of the thing, whatever its nature. The dog lacks this competence."

"I now understand my mistake," said Tristano. "When this dog came to snap at my horse's heels, I admit that I lacked kindly feeling for the beast. I therefore acted on an impulse which almost instantly I regretted, and more when I saw the disreputable quality of the beast."

"I do not quite understand," said Glyneth. "You almost instantly regretted your cruelty?"

"Well, not altogether. Remember that I indemnified the dog with a sausage for his risk."

"Why, then?"

Tristano gave a fastidious flutter of the fingers. "Since you press me, I will explain, and as delicately as possible. On the previous midnight the pearl was returned to me in an uncanny fashion. As I considered the dead dog, I thought at first to depart at full speed and to leave the dog behind. Then I began to ponder on the night ahead: specifically, on the hour of midnight while I lay asleep. At this time the pearl would have progressed well on its way along the dog's digestive tract—"

Glyneth clapped her hands over her ears. "That is enough. Already you have told me more than I want to hear."

"The subject would seem to lack any further interest," said Aillas.

"Just so," said Tristano. "I only wanted to excite Glyneth's compassion for the travail to which I was subjected."

"You have done so," said Glyneth.

There was a moment of quiet, and Glyneth looked up the table to Aillas. "Tonight you are quiet! What troubles you? Affairs of state?"

Aillas looked off across the dark water. "Miraldra seems a thousand miles away. I wish that I need never go back."

"Perhaps you take too much responsibility upon yourself."

"With my counselors and ministers all older men, watching to catch me out in mistakes, I have no choice except to go carefully. There is a chaos in South Ulfland which I must organize, and perhaps come to grips with the Ska, unless they mend their ways. And all the while, even as we sit here, Casmir hatches new plots."

"Then why not work plots upon Casmir, until he desists?"

"If only it were so easy! Clever plots are Casmir's specialty; I can never beat him at intrigue. His spies are everywhere; they would know my clever plots before I know them myself!"

Dhrun made a sound of outrage. "Can we not identify the spies and drown them all in the Lir?"

"Nothing is ever simple. Naturally, I want to identify them, but thereafter I prefer to make their life easy and befuddle them with false information. If I drowned them all, Casmir would merely send over a group of strangers. So I make do with the lot I have and try not to cause them anxiety."

"This ‘befuddling' seems a clever plot in itself," said Glyneth. "Is it effective?"

"I will know better after I identify the spies."

Glyneth asked: "Certainly our own spies keep watch on Casmir?"

"Not as carefully as he watches us. Still, we are not utterly overmatched."

"In some ways, it seems an interesting business," said Glyneth. "I wonder if I would do well as a spy."

"Beyond a doubt," said Aillas. "Beautiful girls make excellent spies! Still, they must be dedicated to their work, and take the good with the bad, since the choicest items are usually told to them in the dark."

Glyneth made a scornful sound. "And these are the spies you befuddle all night long, and make their lives easy, rather than hanging them on the gibbet!"

"Ha! No such luck! Casmir is not so considerate! He subverts one of my close counselors instead. Needless to say, impart this knowledge to no one!"

Dhrun said: "It must be a strange feeling to look from face to face and wonder which conceals the spy."

"It is just that, indeed."

Tristano asked: "How many are the suspects?"

"They are my six august and irreproachable ministers: Maloof, Langlark, Sion-Tansifer, Pirmence, Foirry and Witherwood. Each is a lord of the realm! In all logic each should be as faithful to me as the moon to the sun. Nevertheless, one of the lot is a traitor. I say this with embarrassment, since it grinds at my self-esteem."

"And how will you find him out?"

"I wish I knew." For a period, while the stars moved across the sky, the party discussed schemes for exposing the traitor. At last, when candles guttered low, they rose yawning to their feet and took themselves off to bed.

III

THE VISITORS MADE READY to return to Domreis. Glyneth and Dhrun, as they watched the preparations, became ever more restless; Watershade would seem quiet and lonely when the company had gone. Also, both had become intrigued by the mystery of the highly-placed spy. At the last minute, the two decided to join the group returning to Domreis, and hastily made their own preparations.

Across the Ceald rode the party, now five: up to Green Man's Gap where, as was the custom, all turned for a final glimpse of Watershade, then down Rundle River Valley to Hag Harbour and a night at the Sea Coral Inn. Then: an early departure, with harness jingling loud in the pre-dawn chill and up over Cape Haze with the first red rays of day shining wan on their backs, and, early in the afternoon, arrival at Domreis.

Aillas was not deceived as to the purposes of Dhrun and Glyneth. He took them aside and cautioned them to the most extreme discretion. "This is far from a game of quick wits and good-fellowship! There are lives at stake and Casmir cares nothing of how he spends them!"

"He must be a strange, harsh man!" said Dhrun.

"He is indeed, and one of his spies watches us at close range, as we might watch chickens going about their affairs in the barnyard."

Glyneth asked in perplexity: "This spy of course is a traitor, but what could be his purpose? Where is his gain?"

Aillas shrugged. "Perhaps he spies from caprice, from the thrill of playing a dangerous game. Certainly he will be the most suspicious of men, alert to every glance and whisper, so be subtle!"

"I think that you can trust us," said Dhrun with dignity. "We are not absolute fools; we do not intend to glance and nudge each other, or peek quickly, then whisper together."

"I know this very well," said Aillas. "In fact, I am curious to learn your opinions!" And Aillas thought to himself: Who knows? One or the other might perceive discords or inconsistencies overlooked by others.

For such reasons Aillas arranged a banquet to which he invited his ministers and a few others. The event took place on a cheerless afternoon, with the wind veering down from a hard blue sky. With garments flapping and hands to hats, the dignitaries rode out along the causeway to Miraldra. In the foyer they were met by Sir Este the Seneschal, who conducted them to the smallest of the banquet halls. Here, Aillas with Dhrun and Glyneth awaited the company.

On this informal occasion the six ministers were seated in order of their arrival, three to each side of the table, without reference to precedence. Beyond were placed Sir Tristano and two noblemen of foreign parts. The first of these was a gentleman tall and spare, with a wry long-jawed face, who called himself Sir Catraul of Catalonia. He wore strange and lavish garments and powdered his face in the style of the Aquitanian court. Dhrun and Glyneth could barely restrain their merriment to see Shimrod bedizened in such gorgeous fashion.

Across from Shimrod sat Yane, who had darkened his skin, concealed his chin behind a black beard and his hair under a turban. He called himself Sir Hassifa from Tingitana, and spoke almost no words whatever.

When his guests were seated, Aillas rose to his feet. "Today I give welcome to my cousin, two grandees from far lands, and six gentlemen who are not only my advisers but also my friends, trusted and true! I wish to introduce you to my son, Prince Dhrun, and to my ward, Princess Glyneth! First, from Dascinet, Lord Maloof of Maul House."

Maloof, who was robust, of no great stature, with black curling hair and a short thick beard framing a round pale face, rose to his feet. He bowed with a flourish of the hand toward Glyneth and sat once again.

Aillas spoke: "Lord Pirmence of Castle Lutez!"

Pirmence rose and bowed: a gentleman somewhat older than Maloof, slim and handsome, with silver-gray hair, disdainfully arched eyebrows, a short silver-gray beard, and features of fastidious distinction.

"Lord Sion-Tansifer of Porthouse Faming!"

Sion-Tansifer, oldest of the ministers, and easily the most brusque and truculent, stood stiffly erect. His field of knowledge was military strategy, in its most conservative and orthodox phases, and Aillas found his views interesting more often than useful. Sion-Tansifer was valuable for a different reason: his opinions, often couched in the form of dogmatic truism, annoyed the others and diverted their criticism from Aillas himself. Sion-Tansifer subscribed to the chivalric ideal and on this informal occasion bowed first to Princess Glyneth, then to Prince Dhrun, allowing gallantry to over-rule the dictates of precedence.

"Lord Witherwood of Witherwood House!"

Lord Witherwood, a gentleman of middle years, was pallid and thin, with haggard cheeks, eyes of intense black and a mouth clenched as if to control great inner energies. He was passionate in his convictions and impatient with orthodoxy, a trait which endeared him not at all to either Sion-Tansifer or Maloof, the first of whom Witherwood considered a narrow-minded martinet and the second a niggling and fussy mother hen. He acknowledged the introduction with a pair of cursory nods and subsided in his seat.

"Lord Langlark of Black Chine Castle!"

Langlark, as if gently to admonish Witherwood for his brusque behavior, rose ponderously and bowed right and left in grand style. A portly gentleman of undistinguished appearance, Langlark nevertheless contributed humour, moderation and practicality to the deliberations of the council. Aillas tended to find him the most supportive of all his ministers.

"Lord Foirry of Suanetta."

Foirry performed a pair of polite, if perfunctory, bows. He was slight and somewhat hunched at the shoulders, and, though not so old as Maloof, he had gone bald save for a fringe of black curls. Quick movements of the head, darting brown eyes, with a lean hooking nose and a cynically curling mouth, gave him a look of minatory vigilance. Foirry's moods were mercurial, and sometimes his points of view as well, since he liked to consider an issue from every side, and tended to argue with its proponents in order to test the strength of their concepts.

"Sir Tristano is of course well known to you. Beyond sit Sir Catraul of Catalonia and Sir Hassifa of Tingitana."

The banquet proceeded: at first sedate and guarded, with Lord Sion-Tansifer stonily silent. Lord Pirmence attempted conversation first with Sir Catraul, then Sir Hassifa, but receiving only blank looks and shrugs of incomprehension, turned his attention elsewhere.

Meanwhile Glyneth and Dhrun studied the six ministers in minute detail. They discovered that each was in some degree a specialist, with his own area of expertise. Maloof controlled the exchequer, advised in regard to the imposition of taxes, fees, rents and imposts. Witherwood worked to codify the judicial systems of the land, reconciling regional differences and making the laws universally responsive, to persons of high and low degree alike. Sion-Tansifer, a relict from the reign of King Granice, advised as to military organization and strategy. Foirry was an expert in the field of naval architecture. Pirmence, who had traveled widely, from Ireland to Byzantium, was in effect the Minister of Foreign Affairs, while Langlark had been commissioned by Aillas to establish at Domreis a university of letters, mathematics, geography and the several sciences.

Aillas, also studying the six ministers, felt a peculiar chilly emotion compounded of mystery and awe, and even something of terror. One of the six who sat so placidly at his table, eating his food and drinking his wine, was a traitor: a creature working to his defeat and doom. Which of the six? What might be his reasons?

Aillas looked sideways to Dhrun, and felt a swelling of pride for his handsome young son. He looked to Glyneth, and felt a surge of different emotion. She sensed his attention and, turning to meet his eyes, smiled and gave her head a shake to indicate her bafflement; the mystery was beyond her understanding.

The banquet proceeded. The first course, a mince of olives, shrimp and onions baked in oyster shells with cheese and parsley was followed by a soup of tunny, cockles and winkles simmered in white wine with leeks and dill. Then, in order, came a service of broiled quail stuffed with morels, served on slices of good white bread, with side dishes of green peas; artichokes cooked in wine and butter, with a salad of garden greens; then tripes and sausages with pickled cabbage; then a noble saddle of venison glazed with cherry sauce and served with barley first simmered in broth, then fried with garlic and sage; then honey-cakes, nuts and oranges; and all the while the goblets flowed full with noble Voluspa and San Sue from Watershade, along with the tart green muscat wine of Dascinet. Despite long association the ministers were not easy with each other and, as the banquet progressed, each tended to assert his views with ever more vehemence, so that each came to seem a caricature of himself, and evidence of discord began to appear.

The most severe of the group was Sion-Tansifer, veteran of a dozen campaigns; his grizzled hair twisted and grew askew where scars marred his scalp. His statements were couched in biting, crisp accents, as if each yielded an unassailable truth; those who disagreed earned sideglances of contempt.

Maloof, sitting opposite, tended to qualify all his opinions, so that, compared to Sion-Tansifer, he seemed somewhat vague and indecisive.

In contrast to both was Pirmence, a person suave and handsome, of grand address, easy wit and an unshakable vanity. Pirmence had traveled far and Castle Lutez was said to be a treasure-house of beautiful objects.

Langlark, plump, florid, and modest, used a tactic of half-rueful, half-perplexed self-deprecation which by some devious means made the arguments of others seem foolish and over-heated. Often he pointed out simplicities which everyone else had overlooked, and Pirmence took great care not to run afoul of Langlark, who was perhaps the single minister more subtle than himself.

Witherwood, neat and precise, attacked views which he considered illogical with vicious fervor regardless of person; Aillas had often felt the sting of his criticism, and Maloof despised him utterly. Foirry spoke little and listened to others with an air of sardonic amusement, but when aroused he could be almost as acerbic as Witherwood.

During the venison course, the conversation veered toward the South Ulfland involvement*, and few optimistic opinions were heard.

*Upon the death of South Ulfland's King Oriante, the crown devolved by a tortuous line of descent to King Aillas of Troicinet. King Casmir was taken by surprise: while he paced fuming back and forth in the Green Parlour at Haidion. Troice ships brought an expeditionary force to the jetties of Old Ys. This force reduced the terrible castle Tintzin Fyral, garrisoned the fort Kaul Bocach and so guarded South Ulfland from the ambitions of King Casmir.

Maloof spoke in measured detachment: "It is an uncomfortable land, all rocks and moors, with here and there a bog, or a ruined hut. It may at some time yield a bare sustenance to its folk, but only if they till their soil with the same zeal they use toward killing each other. The Ulfs are a brutal people!"

"A moment!" cried Glyneth, speaking for the first time. "I was born at Throckshaw, in North Ulfland, and my parents were by no means brutal. They were kind and good and brave, and they were killed by the Ska!"

Maloof blinked in embarrassment. "My apologies! I overspoke, of course! I should have said that the South Ulfish barons are a warlike folk, and that prosperity will come only with a cessation of their feuds and raids."

Sion-Tansifer gave a disparaging grunt. "This on the day gold coins fall from the sky in the place of hail. The Ulfs cherish vendettas as a dog his fleas."

Pirmence said: "Ten years ago I had occasion to visit Ys. I then traveled the overland road to Oaldes. I saw very few folk: herdsmen and crofters, and fishermen along the shore. The land is windy, open and generally empty, and here is its single advantage: it will provide holdings for all our younger sons, if King Aillas so dispenses."

"The country is empty for good reason," stated Foirry. "If the mountain barons released all those immured in their dungeons or stretched out on their racks, the land might even be over-populated."

The literal-minded Maloof raised his eyebrows in consternation. "Why have we ventured into this unhappy land? We waste toil, blood and gold on warlike sorties! The Ulfs are nothing to us!"

"I am their king," said Aillas in a mild and reasonable voice. "They are my subjects. I owe them justice and security."

"Bah!" snapped Witherwood. "The argument fails. Suppose suddenly you were acclaimed King of Cathay; must we then send a flotilla of ships and regiments of Troice soldiers to guard their security and see to their justice?"

Aillas laughed. "Cathay is far away, South Ulfland is near at hand."

"Nevertheless," said Maloof stubbornly, "I feel that the proper use of your revenues is here, among your own people!"

Sion-Tansifer issued a surly pronouncement: "I confess that I am not happy with this expedition. The rogue barons guard their glens like wolves and eagles! If we killed them all, as many more would hop from the gorse to take their places, and all would be as before."

Langlark looked across the table with brows knitted, in his customary expression of perplexity. "Do you suggest that we abandon this wide land? Is such a surrender to our advantage? Pirmence definitely exaggerates the case; the land is not without resources, and was once considered a rich kingdom. The mines yield tin, copper, gold and silver, and there are wide deposits of bog iron. In other times, cattle and sheep grazed the moors and the fields were planted to oats, corn and barley."

Sion-Tansifer gave a grim chuckle. "The Ulfs can keep their ‘wide land' and enjoy their splendid wealth, with my compliments and indeed my gratitude, if they will strike back the Ska and spill their own blood in the process. Why should we pull their chestnuts from the fire? For wealth? There is none at hand. For glory? Where the glory in chasing bog-trotters over the moors?"

"Hm ha!" Pirmence patted his silver-gray beard with a napkin. "You are mordant in your views!" He looked up the table toward Aillas. "Sir, what do you say to these carkers and pessimists?"

Aillas leaned back in his chair. "I have spoken at length on this topic; are your memories all so short? I will repeat myself. We have occupied South Ulfland in search of neither wealth nor glory nor fallow land, but for one reason only: survival."

Sion-Tansifer gave a skeptical shake of the head. "Either I am stupid, or the concept is at flaw."

"This is a judgment which perhaps only King Aillas will care to make," suggested Pirmence delicately.

Aillas laughed. "Obviously Lord Sion-Tansifer's alternatives are not exclusive." He looked around the table. "Who else would wish to withdraw from South Ulfland? Maloof?"

"The venture is a serious drain upon the exchequer. I feel competent to say no more."

"Pirmence?"

Pirmence pursed his lips. "We are there! Difficult if not impossible to disengage now with honour."

"Langlark?"

"Your arguments are compelling."

"Witherwood?"

"I feel that we have cast our dice on a very long roll. I hope that good luck goes with us."

"Foirry?"

"Our ships own the sea. So long as this is the case, Troicinet need not fear."

"Sir Tristano, what is your opinion?"

Tristano hesitated a moment, then: "Let me ask this: what might be the consequences if indeed we relinquished Kaul Bocach and Tintzin Fyral and departed South Ulfland?"

Aillas said: "The hour in which we abandoned South Ulfland, King Casmir, after pinching himself to make sure that he was awake and then dancing a brief jig of sheer joy, would march his troops north on the double-quick. Later, at leisure, with all his armies at the ready, he would attack Dahaut from two directions, and in a month King Audry must flee to Aquitania or die. Casmir would then bring Cairbra an Meadhan the Table and Evandig the Throne to Lyonesse Town, and name himself King of the Elder Isles. In the Mermeil estuary he could and would build a flotilla adequate to land his troops on Dascinet, and we would be lost. By moving into South Ulfland we have thwarted Casmir's plan, and have forced him to a more difficult program."

"You have quite convinced me," said Sir Tristano. "Lord Sion-Tansifer, what of you?"

"In all due respect, the premises are at fault. At this moment Casmir can march north up the Trompada and never set foot into South Ulfland."

"Not so," said Aillas. "He would find himself immediately at war with us, and his logistics would be impossible. So long as we held South Ulfland and the Teach tac Teach, Casmir would never dare the Trompada. Using only local troops, we could interdict him with ease."

Maloof spoke almost querulously: "Why all this talk of menace and hostility? Have we not ratified treaties of peace with Lyonesse? Why presume the worst case? If we show Casmir that we truly want peace, then he will reciprocate in kind, and there need be no more bluster, or clanking and clashing of weapons, which can only exacerbate the case."

"Cast your mind back a few years," said Aillas. "Granice was king of Troicinet. Ivar Excelsus of Dascinet thought to punish us by a war and called on Casmir for help. Casmir was only too anxious to bring his armies across the Lir, and if our ships had not smashed his armada, none of us would be dining here today at Miraldra. Has Casmir changed his spots? Obviously not."

Maloof was not convinced. "Still, South Ulfland is not Dascinet."

Witherwood asked him drily: "You believe, then, that if we are polite to Casmir, he will cause us no trouble?"

"We have nothing to lose," said Maloof with dignity. "Anything is preferable to war."

"Not anything," said Langlark.

Aillas said: "None of us wants war, not even Casmir, who would prefer to build his triumph upon our weakness and folly. While I am king this will not be; still, I will work to keep the peace. You may be interested to learn that King Casmir and Queen Sollace are coming to Domreis for a state visit."

"I consider that good news!" declared Maloof. "When will this be?"

"In about a month."

Foirry gave a hoot of sardonic laughter. "What a farce is diplomacy!"

Aillas smiled. "As king I must be the very model of propriety, no matter how my guts roil inside me... .I have said more than I chose to say."

The banquet came to an end. Aillas and Yane, with Glyneth and Dhrun, went to sit before a fire in one of the small parlours.

Aillas asked, "So then: what is the general consensus?"

Yane looked long into the flames. "It is hard to judge. Langlark and Foirry are unlikely because of the glass-merchant episode. Sion-Tansifer is no doubt brave, if perhaps a trifle single-minded. A traitor? Unlikely. Maloof? Witherwood? Pirmence? My intuition settles upon Maloof. He is anxious for peace and so is ready to make concessions. Many such folk are known to history; Maloof might even consider himself a great hero of secret diplomacy, appeasing Casmir and so fostering some farfetched concept of goodwill.

"Then there is Pirmence. He seems flexible and might be induced to spy for gold or from sheer boredom. He is one of that deceptively dangerous sort who, in the name of tolerance, will condone any sort of strange behavior—especially in himself.

"Witherwood? If he is a spy, his motives are hard to guess."

IV

AT NOON OF THE DAY after the banquet, Lord Maloof reported to King Aillas upon the condition of the royal exchequer. Maloofs demeanor was somber and he brought bad news: "By reason of the incursion into South Ulfland, together with the costs of naval construction at the Tumbling River yards, our financial reserves have been reduced to a critical level."

"Hmm," said Aillas. "This does not make for good hearing."

"I have long given warnings in this direction." Maloof spoke with gloomy satisfaction. "Now the crows have come home to roost."

"So it may be. ... What of our Dascinet revenues: have they arrived?"

"Not yet, sir, nor the Scola moneys. Neither are due until next week."

"For a week, then, we must live on the cheap. Before long, or so I hope, South Ulfland will be paying its own way. I have sent mining engineers to examine the old mines, which, so I am told, were never worked out, but simply abandoned because of bandits and robbers. Also, there may be alluvial gold in the rivers. They have never been worked and may eventually yield a large return: enough to pay all our expenses. What do you say to that?"

"So far, this flood of wealth is all hypothetical, and no doubt will require a substantial investment before we can so much as prove its existence."

Aillas grinned. "Maloof, you have a most dampening habit of practicality! If worse comes to worst we shall rely for funds on that method known far and wide as ‘Old Infallible': taxes! Squeeze them till their shoes squeak! Kings alone should be allowed the use of money! It is far too good for the common people."

Maloof said sadly: "Sir, I suspect that you jest."

"Not altogether. I intend to impose port taxes at Ys; so far they have gone unscathed. Also, we must start to collect those revenues from the Evander Valley which were formerly paid to Carfilhiot. So there is profit in sight! And sooner or later we will shake the barons loose from the hoarded gold they have gained by robbing from each other."

Maloof frowned at what he considered flaws in the idea, but again decided that Aillas was indulging his humour. "A formidable program!" said Maloof.

Aillas laughed. "But in practice very simple. I shall dictate laws which I know they will break; then I will fine them large sums, which they must pay or be turned out upon the moors. I only wish I could do the same for King Casmir and his illicit warship, but I fear he would not pay his fines."

Maloof raised his eyebrows in wonder. "You are not entitled to levy fines upon King Casmir!"

"Sadly true. Therefore I must use stronger measures."

Again Maloof frowned in puzzlement. "How so?"

"Exactly two weeks from tonight a party of raiders will descend upon the shipyard at Sardilla and burn Casmir's illicit hulk to the ground. In times to come Casmir will take his commitments more seriously."

Maloof shook his head. "Risky business!"

"Less risky than allowing Casmir a fleet of warships."

Maloof had no more to say and took his leave. Later in the day Aillas spoke with Lord Pirmence to whom he imparted the same information.

Still later, toward the end of the afternoon, Aillas let slip to Lord Witherwood and Lord Sion-Tansifer together that the raid at Sardilla would occur in precisely ten days.

Meanwhile, Sir Tristano assured Foirry and Langlark that the raid would take place in twenty days, even though these two were not considered prime suspects.

Early the next day Sir Tristano set off at speed to Sardilla in Caduz, that he might discover which of the three reports prompted countermeasures.

In due course Sir Tristano returned, bone-weary from hard riding and a rough passage across the Lir. Aillas and Yane heard his report with great interest. On the tenth night, no unusual precautions were put into force. On the night of the two-week interval, a hundred heavily armed warriors had lain in ambush, and through a long dismal night awaited an aasault which never came. For full verification, Tristano had delayed until the twentieth night had passed, without event, and then had returned homeward.

"Three facts are now clear," said Aillas. "First, the ship has definitely been commissioned by Casmir. Second, a traitor sits on my Council of Ministers. Third, he is either Maloof or Pirmence."

"Either one fits the role," said Yane. "What now?"

"For the moment, stealth. Let us identify our man without causing him alarm."

V

REPORTS HAD REACHED AILLAS as to rich deposits of bog-iron in South Ulfland, not far from Oaldes, and he had requested that Maloof discover the costs involved in the construction of a foundry.

The figures, as submitted by Maloof, seemed remarkably high. Aillas considered them a moment without comment, then put the document aside. "The project clearly demands a closer scrutiny. At the moment my mind wanders; I could not sleep last night for dreaming."

Maloof showed polite concern. "Indeed, sir! Dreams are prodromes of future truth! They provide bodes which we ignore to our risk!"

"The dreams of last night were remarkably vivid," said Aillas. "They concerned the forthcoming visit of King Casmir. As his ship entered the harbor, I saw Casmir on the deck bare-headed, as clearly as I now see you. He turned away, and a voice spoke into my ear: ‘Watch with care! If his hat shows two plumes, blue and green in color, he proves himself friend and faithful ally! If he wears a single yellow plume, he is a treacherous enemy who must be destroyed at any cost!' Three times the voice spoke these words! But when I turned to watch as Casmir donned his hat, I was called aside and never could see."

"A remarkable dream!" said Maloof.

Later, Aillas recounted his remarkable dream to Pirmence: "—the voice spoke in the tones of an oracle. ‘Heed the hat which Casmir puts to his head! If it shows a silver medal in the shape of a bird, he is friend and ally! If he displays a golden lion, he signals his treachery!' So spoke the voice, and I am in a quandary. I cannot rule a kingdom on the basis of dreams, yet I might be ignoring true portents to our general danger! What is your opinion?"

Pirmence stroked his silver-gray beard. "I am a practical man; as such I accept anything of value, whatever its source. What sort was the hat?"

"A simple turret of crushed black velvet, lacking brim or standing crown."

"Let me suggest this: observe how closely Casmir's hat matches the hat of your dreams; then be guided by the nature of the emblem."

VI

FROM THE TERRACE of Miraldra's north tower, Aillas and others watched the approach of the carrack Star Regulus from Lyonesse: a heavy vessel, blunt of bow and high of poop, and a brave sight with both foresail and mainsail bellied and straining and with red and yellow banderoles streaming from the mast-heads.

The carrack entered the harbor and the crew smartly brailed up the sails. Work-boats brought out lines and the Star Regulus was warped to the dock beside Miraldra, and there moored to bollards.

King Aillas now waited on the jetty, along with twenty grandees of the realm and their ladies. A gangplank was raised to the carrack's well-deck, where the stir of splendid personages could be glimpsed. A crew of liveried footmen rolled a strip of rose plush carpet across the dock from gangplank to the three high-backed chairs of state, where King Aillas waited with Prince Dhrun at his right and Princess Glyneth to his left*.

*An arrangement decidedly at odds with the dictates of rigorous etiquette, inasmuch as the title ‘Princess' which King Aillas had fixed upon Glyneth was honourific only. Aillas, partly from frivolity and partly from motives less easily defined, had in this case over-ruled his Chief Herald, and Glyneth, somewhat self-consciously wearing the diadem of a royal princess, and quite aware of the gossip being promulgated, sat beside Aillas, and presently began to enjoy herself.

On the deck of the Star Regulus a stately gentleman stepped forward: King Casmir. At the head of the gangway he paused and was joined by a lady of noble proportions with blonde hair coiled at her ears and netted under white pearls: Queen Sollace. Looking neither right nor left the two descended the gangway to the dock.

Aillas came forward. His gaze went to Casmir's hat: a turret of black velvet, lacking both crown and brim. A silver medal in the shape of a bird adorned the front of the hat; a pair of plumes, blue and green, rose to the side.

Behind Queen Sollace came Prince Cassander and the Princess Madouc. Cassander, a sturdy youth of fifteen, wore a smart green cap over his brass-yellow curls. He was clearly the son of his father and had already adopted certain kingly mannerisms. His round blue eyes, as he surveyed the company, were a trifle minatory, as if to warn all against the slightest disrespect.

In contrast, the Princess Madouc, a long-legged urchin with russet curls, clearly cared nothing either for dignity or the company's approval; after a single brief glance she dismissed them all from her consciousness, and came hopping and jumping down the gangplank like an active young kitten. She wore a long gown of orange-russet velvet tied at the waist with a black sash; her hair, approximately the colour of her gown, hung in loose ringlets. Madouc's mind was clearly as active as her conduct; her snub-nosed little face registered each trifling shift of mood with total transparency. Aillas, who well knew her antecedents, watched her with amusement. Evidently the rumors of Madouc's precocity and exuberant wilfulness had not been exaggerated.

King Casmir, as he offered his arm to Queen Sollace at the foot of the gangplank, gave Madouc a cold glance of admonition, then turned to greet King Aillas.

A half dozen other notables of Lyonesse, in careful order of precedence, descended the gangplank with their ladies, to be announced with appropriate gusto by Miraldra's Chief Herald.

Last to leave the ship were a pair of the queen's personal attendants and, finally, the Christian priest Father Umphred, a portly figure in a plum-colored cassock.

After the formal welcomes, Casmir and Sollace were escorted to their chambers, where they might rest and refresh themselves after the inconveniences of their voyage.

Later in the evening King Aillas sat as host at a casual supper, the full state banquet would be served on the following day. Both Aillas and Casmir dealt austerely with plate and goblet, and both rose sober from the table. They repaired to a private parlour, and, sitting before the fire, sipped a heavy golden Olorosa and discussed those matters which interested them. Neither, however, saw fit to mention the ship being built to Casmir's order in Caduz.

Casmir somewhat quizzically spoke of the fortifications at Kaul Bocach, the gorge which contained the road between Lyonesse and South Ulfland. "Even without fortifications, twenty determined men can guard the way against an army. But I am told that now fortress frowns over fortress, that every approach is protected by traps, walls and barbicans, so that impregnability is reinforced a dozen times over. Similarly with Tintzin Fyral, where now the mountain Tac Tor is crowned with a fort as harsh as Tintzin Fyral itself. I cannot understand these feverish preparations, since we have ratified between us treaties which make such works redundant."

"Your information is correct," said Aillas. "The fortifications have been augmented, and certainly they guard against invasion from Lyonesse. But is not the rationale clear? You are not immortal; imagine, if you will, that a monarch cruel, treacherous and warlike came to rule Lyonesse! Let us suppose that this monarch, for reasons beyond conjecture, decided to attack Ulfland—well then! We are prepared for him and if he is sane he will be dissuaded."

Casmir showed a wintry smile. "I grant a theoretical basis for this line of thought, but is it not, in practice, somewhat far-fetched?"

"I certainly hope so," said Aillas. "May I pour you more of this wine? It is produced on my own estate."

"Thank you; it is very fine indeed. The wines of Troicinet are not as well known at Haidion as they should be."

"That, of course, is a lack easy to overcome, and I shall see to it."

Casmir thoughtfully lifted the goblet, swirled the wine and watched the golden ripples. "It is hard to recall the harsh old times when bad blood existed between our peoples."

"All things change," said Aillas.

"Exactly! Our treaty, signed in the heat of ruffled feelings, stipulated that Lyonesse should build no warships, on an outmoded presumption. Now that amity has returned—"

"Just so!" declared Aillas. "The present equilibrium has served us well! It is a balance which encourages peace across all the Elder Isles. This balance and this peace are vital to us and form the basis of our foreign policy."

"Oh?" King Casmir frowned. "And how can you implement so broad a policy?"

"The principle is simple enough. We can allow neither Lyonesse nor Dahaut to gain ascendancy over the other, because then our own security would disappear. Should King Audry attack Lyonesse and by some miracle gain advantage, then we must join the war on the side of Lyonesse until the stasis returns; and vice versa."

Casmir managed an easy laugh and, draining his goblet, set down the empty vessel with a thump. "I wish that my own goals could be so easily defined. Alas! They depend on such ineffable considerations as justice, the redressment of old wrongs, and the thrust of history."

Aillas poured wine into Casmir's goblet. "I do not envy you your maze of uncertainties. Still, you need be at no doubt in regard to Troicinet. Should either Lyonesse or Dahaut grow strong enough to menace the other, then we must throw our strength behind the weaker. In effect, you are protected by a strong navy without incurring any of the expense."

King Casmir rose to his feet. He spoke somewhat curtly. "I am tired after the voyage, and I will now bid you good evening."

Aillas, rising, said: "I hope that your rest will be comfortable."

The two went to the drawing room where Queen Sollace sat with ladies of both courts. King Casmir went only to the doorway and bowed stiffly to the occupants of the room. Queen Sollace rose to her feet, bade the company goodnight and the two were escorted to their chambers by footmen bearing flamboys.

Aillas returned along the great gallery toward his parlour. From the shadows stepped a stout person in a plum-red cassock. "King Aillas! A moment of your time, if you please!"

Aillas stopped and surveyed the rubicund face of Father Umphred, as he now called himself. Aillas pretended no cordiality. "What do you want?"

Umphred chuckled. "I thought, first of all, to renew our old acquaintance."

Aillas, from sheer distaste, moved back a step. Nothing daunted, Umphred spoke on. "As you may know, I have successfully brought the Holy Message to Lyonesse Town. King Casmir almost certainly will sponsor the construction of a noble cathedral, to glorify the name of God within the precincts of his happy city. If so much transpires, I may well wear the mitre."

"This is nothing to me," said Aillas. "In fact, I am surprised that you dare show your face in my presence."

With a jovial smile and a flourish of the hand, Father Umphred erased every vestige of ill-feeling which might have existed between the two. "I bring to Troicinet the joyous message of the Gospels! Pagan pomp still holds sway in Troicinet, Dascinet and South Ulfland. Nightly I pray that I may bring King Aillas and all his people into the glory of the true faith!"

"I have neither time nor inclination for such matters," said Aillas. "My people believe or disbelieve as they see fit, and that is the way of it." He started to turn away, but Father Umphred put a soft white hand on his arm. "Wait!"

Aillas turned. "Well then, what now?"

Father Umphred smiled a rich and tender smile. "I pray for your personal salvation, and also that, like King Casmir, you will encourage the construction of a cathedral at Domreis the better to disseminate the Truth of God! And, if you like, to rival in splendor the cathedral at Lyonesse Town, and I might hope for the arch-bishopric itself!"

"I will sponsor no Christian church, in Domreis or elsewhere."

Umphred thoughtfully pursed his lips. "Such are your present views but perhaps you may be induced to change them."

"I think not."

Again Aillas turned away, and again Father Umphred detained him. "A great pleasure to see you again, though my mind reverts with sadness to the unhappy events of our first acquaintance. To. this day King Casmir is not aware of your old identity! I am assured that you do not wish him to know; otherwise you would have informed him yourself. Am I right in this?" And Father Umphred, standing back, surveyed Aillas with kindly interest.

Aillas reflected a moment, then said in a neutral voice: "Come with me, if you will."

A few steps along the gallery, Aillas paused beside a uniformed footman. "Ask Sir Hassifa the Moor to join me in the small parlour." Aillas beckoned to Umphred. "Come."

His smile now somewhat less fulsome, Umphred followed. Aillas ushered him into the small parlour, shut the door, then went to stand by the fire, to look silently down into the flames.

Father Umphred attempted a pleasantry. "Yes indeed! Your present condition far exceeds your old! Poor little Suldrun: a sad end indeed! The world is a vale of woe, and we are sent here that we may be tested and purified for the halcyon times to come!"

Aillas made no comment. Encouraged by what he thought to be Aillas' deep concern, Umphred continued. "My fondest hope is to lead the King of Troicinet and his noble folk into salvation, and a grand cathedral would cause the angels themselves to sing! And then, naturally, since you seem to prefer it, the facts of your old identity shall remain as secure as the secrets of the confessional."

Aillas darted him a single bright glance, then continued to brood into the flames.

The door opened. Yane, still in the guise of Sir Hassifa the Moor, came quietly into the parlour. Aillas straightened up and swung around. "Ah, Sir Hassifa! May I ask, are you a Christian?"

"By no means."

"Good: a simplification. Take note of this fellow here: what do you see?"

"A priest, fat, white and sleek as a beaver, and no doubt unctuous of tongue. He arrived today from Lyonesse."

"Just so. I want you to examine him with care, so that you will never mistake him for any other."

"Sir, he could pull the hood tight around his face, name himself Beelzebub and hide in the deepest catacomb of Rome and still I would know him."

"You will find this amazing! He claims old acquaintance with me."

Sir Hassifa turned to examine Umphred with wonder. "What could be his motives?"

"He wants me to build him a fine church at Domreis. If I refuse, he threatens to betray my identity to King Casmir."

Sir Hassifa inspected Umphred anew. "Is he addled? King Casmir already knows your identity. You are Aillas of Troicinet."

Umphred began to dislike the tone of the conversation. He licked his lips. "Yes, yes, of course. I merely ventured a pleasantry, as might pass between old friends!"

Aillas spoke to Sir Hassifa: "He persists in his claim! I am becoming annoyed. If he were not here as a guest, I might well clap him into a dungeon. I may do so in any case."

"Do not soil your hospitality on his account!" Sir Hassifa advised. "Wait until he returns to Lyonesse. I can have his throat cut at any hour of day or night, with a sharp or dull knife."

Aillas said: "It might be best to drag him before Casmir at this very moment and hear what he has to say. Then, if he utters some malicious tale—"

"Wait!" cried Umphred desperately. "I now understand my error! I was mistaken, in whole and in part! I have never seen you before in my life!"

Sir Hassifa said: "I fear that he might yet blurt out some tumble of dirty nonsense, to the detriment of your dignity." He produced a gleaming dagger. "Let me cut out his tongue, at least. We will cauterize the wound with a hot poker."

"No, no!" cried Umphred, now sweating. "I will say nothing to anyone! My lips are sealed! I know a thousand secrets; all are immured forever!"

Aillas said to Yane: "Since he is a guest, I can take the matter no farther. But if ever a rumor or hint of his folly be heard—"

"No need to threaten!" declared Umphred. "I have made a sad mistake, which will never be repeated!"

"That is good news," said Aillas. "Especially for you. Remember that the person for whom you mistook me has reason to take a savage revenge upon you."

"The episode is forgotten," said Umphred. "Pray excuse me now; I am fatigued and I still have my devotions to perform."

"Go."

VII

FROM MiRALDRA'S MAIN GALLERY a portal opened into the great hall. To either side of the opening stood a heroic marble statue, the pair brought from the Mediterranean five centuries before. The statues represented warriors of ancient Hellas, naked save for helmets, with short swords and shields held in attitudes of attack.

King Casmir and Queen Sollace, after taking breakfast in their chambers, strolled along the gallery, pausing now and again to examine those objects of craft and virtue which across the years had been collected by the kings of Troicinet.

Beside one of the marble statues stood a footman in the livery of Miraldra, armed with a ceremonial halberd. As King Casmir and Queen Sollace paused to examine the heroic figures, the footman made a signal to King Casmir, who, turning his head, recognized that person whom he knew as "Valdez".

King Casmir looked up and down the gallery, then stepped apart from Queen Sollace and approached the footman. "So this is your vantage-point!" he muttered. "I have often wondered!"

"You would not see me here today, had I not wished to speak with you. I will no longer be coming to Lyonesse Town; my movements are attracting notice among the fishermen."

"Oh?" King Casmir's voice was flat. "What will you do now?"

"I intend a quiet life in the country."

King Casmir, pretending interest in the statue, reflected a moment. "You must come to Lyonesse Town one last time, that I may reward you properly for your service. Perhaps we might arrange a new system, from which you would derive profit but know no risk."

"I think not," said Valdez drily. "Still, if someone speaks my name at Haidion, give him attention; he will bring news... . Someone approaches."

King Casmir turned away, and with Queen Sollace strolled down the gallery.

After a moment Sollace asked: "Why do you frown so?"

King Casmir forced a laugh. "Perhaps I envy King Aillas his fine statues! We must see to something similar at Haidion."

"I would rather have a set of authentic relics for my church," mused Queen Sollace.

King Casmir, lost in thought, spoke absent-mindedly: "Yes, yes, my dear; so it shall be, just as you wish."

Events, in fact, were not going to King Casmir's satisfaction. When spies left his employ, he liked to terminate the relationship in a definite manner, so that they might never sell their services elsewhere, and perhaps apply what they had learned to his detriment... . Slowly he became aware of Queen Sollace's voice: "—so Father Umphred assures me, is to buy before the need is recognized. He knows of three authentic splinters from the Holy Cross that we could acquire at this moment for a hundred crowns apiece. The Holy Grail itself is known to be somewhere about the Elder Isles, and Father Umphred has had the opportunity to buy maps providing exact—"

Casmir demanded: "Woman, what are you talking about?"

"The relics for the cathedral, of course!"

"How can you talk of relics when the cathedral itself is no more than a hallucination?"

Queen Sollace spoke with dignity. "Father Umphred declares that in time the Holy Lord will surely bring you to grace."

"Ha. If the Holy Lord wants a cathedral so badly, let him build it himself."

"I shall so pray!"

Half an hour later King Casmir and Queen Sollace again passed by the statues, but now Valdez was nowhere to be seen.