Jack Vance, page 18
Shimrod listened with a weight pressing at the pit of his stomach. Lillas spoke on in a rush: “There were two horses in the road. Torqual lifted my mistress into the saddle of one and mounted the other. They rode away to the north. And now I do not know what to do!”
Shimrod found his voice. “Do as usual; you have not been instructed otherwise.”
“That is good advice!” said Lillas. “Perhaps she will be home in short order.”
“Perhaps.”
Shimrod returned south along the beach road to the Sunset Inn. In the morning he took himself once again to the white villa, but found only Lillas on the premises. “You have had no word from your mistress?”
“No, sir. She is far away; I feel it in my bones.”
“So do I.” Shimrod reached to the ground for a pebble. He rubbed it between his fingers and handed it to Lillas. “As soon as your mistress returns, take this pebble out of doors, throw it into the air and say: ‘Go to Shimrod!’ Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What will you do?”
“I will throw the pebble into the air and say: ‘Go to Shimrod!’”
“That is correct! And here is a silver florin to assist your memory.”
“Thank you, sir.”
5
Shimrod conveyed himself up over the mountains to the stony flat in front of Swer Smod. Entering the forecourt, he discovered the two gryphs sitting down to their morning meal, which included two great joints of beef, four roast fowl, a pair of suckling pigs, two trenchers of pickled salmon, a round of white cheese, and several loaves of new bread. At the sight of Shimrod they jumped up from the table in a rage and ran forward as if to rend him limb from limb.
Shimrod held up his hand. “Moderation, if you please! Has not Murgen instructed you to milder manners?”
“He approved our vigilance,” said Vuwas. “He advised a trifle more restraint toward persons of patently good character.”
“You do not fit that description,” said Vus. “Hence we must do our duty.”
“Stop! I am Shimrod, and I am here on legitimate business!”
“That remains to be seen!” said the mottled green Vus. With one claw he scratched a line across the stone pavement. “First we must be convinced of your bona fides, which we will look into as soon as we dine.”
“We have been hoodwinked before,” said Vuwas. “Never again! Step one inch past that line and we will devour you for an appetizer.”
Shimrod performed a small spell. “I would prefer to pass by your investigation at once, but no doubt you are anxious to join your guests.”
“‘Guests’?” demanded Vuwas. “What guests are these?”
Shimrod pointed; the gryphs turned to discover a troop of eight baboons wearing red trousers and round red hats making free with their repast. Some stood at one side of the table, others opposite, while three stood on the table itself.
Vus and Vuwas roared in full outrage, and ran to chase off the baboons, but they were not so easily discouraged, and hopped with agility here and there, walking in the pickled salmon, and throwing food at the gryphs. Shimrod took advantage of the disturbance to cross the forecourt, and so arrived at the tall iron door. He was admitted and made his way to the great hall.
As before, a fire blazed in the fireplace. The glass globe hanging from the ceiling glowed sullen green. Murgen was not in evidence.
Shimrod seated himself beside the fire and waited. After a moment, he turned his head and glanced up at the suspended globe. Two black eyes glittered at him through the green murk. Shimrod turned his gaze back to the fire.
Murgen entered the room and joined Shimrod at the table. “You seem a bit dispirited,” said Murgen. “How went events at Ys?”
“Well enough, in certain respects.” Shimrod told of what had transpired at the Sunset Inn and at Melancthe’s villa. “I learned little that we did not already suspect, except the fact of Torqual’s involvement.”
“It is important and signifies a conspiracy! Remember, he first came to Melancthe to learn her commands.”
“But on the second occasion he ignored her commands and forced her to his will.”
“It is perhaps cynical to note that he did not need to force very hard.”
Shimrod stared into the fire. “What do you know of Torqual?”
“Not a great deal. He was born a Ska nobleman who became a renegade, and is now an outlaw living by plunder, blood and terror. His ambitions may well extend farther.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Is that not implied by his conduct? King Casmir wants him to incite revolt among the Ulfish barons; Torqual takes Casmir’s money and goes his own way, with no real advantage to Casmir. If Aillas loses control of the mountains, Torqual will hope to become the ruler, and who knows what then? North and South Ulfland? Godelia? East Dahaut?”
“Luckily, it is an unlikely prospect.”
Murgen stared into the fire. “Torqual is a man without mercy. It would be a pleasure to hang him in a bottle alongside Tamurello. Alas! I cannot violate my own law—unless he gives me cause. This cause may well be forthcoming.”
“How so?”
“The propulsion to this affair, so I tell myself, can only be Desmei. Where has she taken herself? She is either using some unexpected semblance or hiding where she cannot be discovered. Her hopes flourish and fester! She has revenged herself sweetly upon Tamurello, but not upon the race of men; she is not yet sated.”
“Perhaps she lives passive inside Melancthe, waiting and watching.”
Murgen shook his head. “She would be constricted and far too vulnerable, since I would know at once. On the other hand, Melancthe, or a construct just like her, may be the vessel Desmei ultimately plans to fill.”
“Tragic that a thing so beautiful must be put to such humiliating uses!” said Shimrod. He sat back in his chair. “Still, it is nothing to me.”
“Just so,” said Murgen. “Now, for a space, I must put this matter aside. Other affairs press at my attention. The star Achernar is rife with odd activity, especially in the far outer tracts. Meanwhile Joald stirs in the depths. I must discover if a linkage exists.”
“In that case, what of me?”
Murgen rubbed his chin. “I will set out a monitor. If Torqual uses magic we will interfere. If he is only a bandit, no matter how cruel, King Aillas and his armies must take him in charge.”
“I would favor more direct action.”
“No doubt; still our goal is minimal involvement! The Edict is a fragile force; if we are discovered in violation, its inhibition may dissolve into smoke.”
“One last word! Your devils are as horrid as ever! They might well frighten a timid person. You must definitely teach them a more polite etiquette.”
“I will see to it.”
1 Ska: the indigenous race of Scandinavia, with traditions and records older by far than those of the Near or Far East. Three thousand years previously, a wave of Aryans, or Ur-Goths, had migrated north from the Black Sea steppes into Scandinavia, ultimately expelling the Ska, who descended first upon Ireland, where they were known to myth as the ‘Sons of Partholon’. Eventually, after defeat by the Danaans, they migrated south into Skaghane.
CHAPTER
SIX
1
At the end of summer, with the smell of autumn in the air, the royal family departed Sarris for Castle Haidion. There was no unanimity of feeling regarding the event. King Casmir left the informal style of life at Sarris with reluctance. Queen Sollace, on the other hand, could hardly wait to put the rustic deficiencies of Sarris behind her. Cassander cared little one way or the other; boon companions, flirtatious maidens, merry entertainments were as accessible at Haidion as at Sarris; perhaps more so. Princess Madouc, like King Casmir, departed Sarris with reluctance. She hinted to Lady Desdea, not once but several times, that conditions at Sarris suited her well, and that she would prefer not to return to Haidion at all. Lady Desdea paid no heed and Madouc’s desires came to naught. Willy-nilly, sullen and bored, Madouc was instructed into the royal carriage for the long ride back to Lyonesse Town. In a brave if hollow voice, Madouc stated her intention to ride Tyfer instead. She pointed out that everyone’s convenience would thereby be served. Those riding in the carriage would enjoy more space, while Tyfer would benefit from the exercise. Lady Desdea heard the proposal with eyebrows high in cold amazement. “That is impossible, of course! It would be considered conduct most boisterous; the act of a hoyden! The folk of the countryside would stare in wonder—those who did not laugh outright—to see you trotting so proudly through the dust!”
“I had no plans to ride in the dust! I would just as lief ride in the van, ahead of the dust.”
“And what a sight you would be, leading the cavalcade on your intrepid steed Tyfer! I am surprised that you do not choose to wear mail and carry a banner on high, like a prodrome of old!”
“I had nothing like this in mind; I only—”
Lady Desdea held up her hand. “Say no more! For once you must conduct yourself with dignity, and ride properly with Her Majesty. Your maidens will be allowed to sit beside you in the carriage, for your amusement.”
“That is why I want to ride Tyfer.”
“Impossible.”
So went the arrangements. Despite Madouc’s dissatisfaction, the carriage departed Sarris with Madouc sitting across from Queen Sollace, with Devonet and Chlodys on the seat to her left.
In due course the party arrived at Castle Haidion, and the ordinary routines of life were resumed. Madouc was housed as before in her old chambers, though suddenly they had become cramped and constricted, or so it seemed. “Odd!” thought Madouc. “In a single summer I have aged an entire era, and of course I have become far wiser. I wonder…” She put her hands to her chest, to feel two small pads of softness she had not previously noticed. She felt them again. They were definite. “Hm,” said Madouc. “I hope I do not grow to look like Chlodys.”
The autumn passed, and then the winter. For Madouc the most noteworthy event was the retirement of Lady Desdea, on the plea of backache, nervous cramp and general malaise. Spiteful tongues whispered that Madouc’s perverse antics and general intractability had at last conquered Lady Desdea and had made her ill. Indeed, during the late winter, Lady Desdea turned lemon-yellow, began to swell in the middle, and presently died of the dropsy.
Her successor was a noblewoman younger and more flexible: Lady Lavelle, third daughter to the Duke of Wysceog.
Lady Lavelle, having taken note of past attempts to educate the obstreperous princess, changed tactics and dealt casually with Madouc. She took for granted—at least ostensibly—that Madouc, keen to her own advantage, would wish to learn the tricks, ploys and stratagems that would allow her to negotiate court protocol with the least inconvenience. Of course, as a prerequisite, Madouc must learn the conventions which she would be learning to avoid. So, despite herself and half-aware of Lady Lavelle’s tactics, Madouc assimilated a smattering of court procedure and certain pretty little skills of genteel coquetry.
A series of storms brought howling winds and driving rains to Lyonesse Town, and Madouc was pent inside Haidion. After a month the storm abated, and the town was washed in a sudden flood of pale sunlight. After such long confinement Madouc felt impelled to go out and wander in the open air. With no better destination at hand, she decided to revisit the hidden garden where Suldrun had pined away her life.
Assuring herself that she went unseen Madouc hastened up the cloistered walk. Through the tunnel in Zoltra Bright-Star’s Wall, then the rotting old portal, Madouc stepped into the garden.
At the top of the vale she stopped to look and listen. She saw no living creature and heard no sound save the far muffled rush of the surf. Odd! thought Madouc. In the wan winter sunlight the garden seemed less melancholy than as she remembered it.
Madouc wandered down the trail to the beach. The surf, driven by the storms, reared high to crash heavily down upon the shingle. Madouc turned away to look up the vale. Suldrun’s conduct seemed more incomprehensible than ever. According to Cassander she could not bring herself to face the dangers and hardships of life on the road. But what then? For a clever person, determined to survive, the dangers could be minimized and perhaps avoided. But Suldrun, timid and apathetic, had preferred to languish in the hidden garden and so at last she had died.
“As for me,” Madouc told herself, “I would have been over the fence in a trice! After that, I would pretend to be a boy and also a leper. I would feign sores on my face, to disgust anyone who came near me, and those who were not disgusted, I would stab with a knife! Had I been Suldrun, I would be alive today!”
Madouc soberly started up the path. There were lessons to be learned from those tragic events of the past. First, Suldrun had hoped for King Casmir’s mercy, which had not been forthcoming. The significance was clear. A princess of Lyonesse must marry as Casmir desired or else incur his merciless displeasure. Madouc grimaced. The correspondence between Suldrun’s case and her own was much too close for comfort. Still, displeasure or not, King Casmir must be persuaded not to involve her in his schemes of empire.
Madouc left the garden, and returned down the way to the castle. Out over the Lir a bank of black clouds was approaching fast, and even as Madouc approached the castle, a damp gust of wind struck at her, whipping the skirt around her legs. The day grew dark and the new storm arrived with thunder, lightning and rain. Madouc wondered if winter would ever end.
A week passed and another, and at last the sun drove shafts of light down through the clouds. The next day dawned sparkling clear.
King Casmir, himself oppressed by the bad weather, decided to take the air with Queen Sollace, and in the process show themselves to the folk of Lyonesse Town. He ordered out the ceremonial carriage, which presently pulled up in front of the castle. The royal family took their places: King Casmir and Queen Sollace facing forward; Prince Cassander and Princess Madouc stiffly opposite.
The procession set off: a herald holding high the royal arms, consisting of a black Tree of Life on a white field, with a dozen scarlet pomegranates hanging from the branches. Next rode three men-at-arms in chain corselets and iron helmets, holding halberds high, followed by the open carriage with its royal cargo. Another three men-at-arms, riding abreast, brought up the rear.
The procession moved down the Sfer Arct—slowly, so that the townspeople might rush out to stare and point and raise an occasional cheer.
At the foot of the Sfer Arct, the procession turned to the right and continued around the Chale to the site of the new cathedral. Here the carriage halted and the royal party alighted, so that they might inspect the progress of construction. Almost at once they were approached by Father Umphred.
The meeting was not accidental. Father Umphred and Queen Sollace had calculated at length how best to engage King Casmir’s interest in the cathedral. Father Umphred, in pursuance of their plans, now bustled importantly forward and proposed a tour of the half-finished construction.
King Casmir gave him a curt response. “I can see well enough from here.”
“As Your Majesty desires! Still, the full scope of Sollace Sanctissima might be more pleasurably apparent upon closer view.”
King Casmir glanced across the site. “Your sect is not numerous. The structure is far too large for its purpose.”
“We earnestly believe to the contrary,” said Father Umphred cheerfully. “In any event, is not magnificence and grandeur more suitable for the Sollace Sanctissima than some makeshift little chapel of sticks and mud?”
“I am impressed by neither one nor the other,” said King Casmir. “I have heard that in Rome and Ravenna the Churches are crammed so full with gold ornaments and jeweled gewgaws that they lack space for aught else. Be assured that never a penny from the Royal Exchequer of Lyonesse will be spent on such bedizenry.”
Father Umphred forced a laugh. “Your Majesty, I submit that the cathedral will enrich the city, rather than the reverse. By this same token, a splendid cathedral will do the same, only faster.” Father Umphred gave a delicate cough. “You must remember that at Rome and Ravenna the gold came not from those who built the cathedrals but those who came to worship.”
“Ha!” King Casmir was interested despite his prejudices. “And how is this miracle accomplished?”
“There is no mystery. The worshippers hope to attract the favorable attention of Divinity by making a financial contribution.” Father Umphred turned out his hands. “Who knows? The belief may be well-founded! No one has proved otherwise.”
“Hmf.”
“One thing is certain! Every pilgrim arriving at Lyonesse Town will depart enriched in spirit, though poorer in worldly goods.”
King Casmir appraised the unfinished cathedral as if with a new vision. “How do you hope to attract wealthy and munificent pilgrims?”
“Some will come to worship and to participate in the rites. Others will sit in the hush of the great nave for hours, as if steeping themselves in a holy suffusion. Others will come to marvel at our relics, to feel the awe of their presence. These relics are of signal importance, and attract pilgrims from far and wide with great efficacy.”
“‘Relics’? What relics are these? To my knowledge we have none.”
“It is an interesting subject,” said Father Umphred. “Relics are of many sorts, and might be classified into several categories. The first and most precious are those directly associated with the Lord Jesus Christ. In the second rank and very excellent we find objects associated with one or another of the Holy Apostles. In the third rank, often most precious and most rare, are relics from antiquity: for instance, the stone with which David slew Goliath, or one of Shadrach’s sandals, with scorch-marks on the sole. In the fourth rank, and still very fine, are objects associated with one or another of the saints. There are also what I shall call incidental relics, interesting because of association rather than holy essence. For instance, a claw of the bear which devoured Saint Candolphus, or a bangle from the arm of the prostitute Jesus defended before the temple, or a desiccated ear from one of the Gadarene swine. Unfortunately, many of the best and most wonderful relics have vanished, or were never collected. On the other hand, articles of guaranteed quality sometimes appear and are even offered for sale. One must take care, of course, when making such purchases.”
