Jack Vance, page 39
In the light of the four bronze lamps Madouc examined the booklet taken from the cottage. “It appears to be an almanac of sorts, or a collection of notes and advices. It was indited by a maiden who lived in the cottage. Here is her recipe for a fine complexion: ‘It is said that cream of almonds mixed with oil of poppy is very good, if applied faithfully, and also a lotion of sweet alyssum drowned in the milk of a white vixen (Alas! Where would a white vixen be found?), then ground with a few pinches of powdered chalk. As for me, I command none of these ingredients and might not use them were they at hand, since who would trouble to notice?’ Hmm.” Madouc turned a page.
“Here is her instruction for training crows to speak. ‘First, find a young crow of alert disposition, jolly and able. You must treat it kindly, though you will clip its wings that it may not fly. For one month, add to its usual food a decoction of good valerian, into which you have seethed six hairs from the beard of a wise philosopher. At the end of the month you must say: “Crow, my dear crow: hear me now! When I raise my finger you must speak! Let your words be clever and to the point! So you shall make for the joy of us both, since we may relieve each other of our loneliness. Crow, speak!”
“‘I followed the instruction with every possible care, but my crows all remained mute, and my loneliness has never been abated.’”
“Most odd,” mused Sir Pom-Pom. “I suspect that the ‘philosopher’ from whose beard she plucked the six hairs was not truly wise, or possibly he deceived her with a display of false credentials.”
“Possibly true,” said Madouc.
“In such a lonely place, an innocent maiden might easily be deceived,” said Travante. “Even by a philosopher.”
Madouc returned to the booklet. “Here is another recipe. It is called ‘Infallible Means for Instilling Full Constancy and Amatory Love in One Whom You Love’.”
“That should be interesting,” said Sir Pom-Pom. “Read the recipe, if you will, and with exact accuracy.”
Madouc read: “‘When the dying moon wanders distrait and, moving low in the sky, rides the clouds like a ghostly boat, then is the time to prepare, for a vapor often condenses and seeps down the shining rind, to hang as a droplet from the lower horn. It slowly, slowly, swells and sags and falls, and if a person, running below, can catch the droplet in a silver basin, he will have gained an elixir of many merits. For me there is scope for much dreaming here, since, if a drop of this syrop is mixed into a goblet of pale wine and, if two drink together from the goblet, a sweet love is infallibly induced between the two. So I have made my resolve. One night when the moon rides low I will run from this place with my basin and never pause until I stand below the horn of the moon, and there I will wait to catch the wonderful droplet.’”
Travante asked: “Are there further notations?”
“That is all to the recipe.”
“I wonder if the maiden did so run through the night, and whether, in the end, she caught her precious droplet!”
Madouc turned the parchment pages. “There is nothing more; the rain has blurred what remains.”
Sir Pom-Pom rubbed his chin. He glanced toward the sacred chalice, where it reposed on a cushion; then he rose to his feet and, going to the front of the pavilion, looked out across the glade. After a moment he returned to the table.
Travante asked: “How goes the night, Sir Pom-Pom?”
“The moon is near the full and the sky is clear.”
“Aha! Then there will be no seepage of moon syrop tonight!”
Madouc asked Sir Pom-Pom: “Were you planning to run through the forest carrying a basin at the ready?”
Sir Pom-Pom responded with dignity: “Why not? A drop or two of the moon elixir might someday come in useful.” He turned a quick glance toward Madouc. “I am still uncertain as to the boon I will ask.”
“I thought that you had decided to become a baron and wed Devonet.”
“Espousing a royal princess might be more prestigious, if you take my meaning.”
Madouc laughed. “I take your meaning, Sir Pom-Pom, and henceforth I will be wary of your pale wine, though you offer it by the gallon on your bended knee.”
“Bah!” muttered Sir Pom-Pom. “You are absolutely unreasonable.”
“No doubt,” sighed Madouc. “You must make do with Devonet.”
“I will think on the matter.”
In the morning the three continued along Munkins Road, under great trees which filtered the morning sunlight. They travelled an hour, when suddenly Travante gave a startled cry. Madouc turned to find him staring into the forest.
“I saw it!” cried Travante. “I am sure of it! Look yonder; see for yourself!” He pointed, and Madouc looked to barely see a flash of movement under the trees. Travante cried out: “Hold! Do not go away! It is I, Travante!” He raced off into the forest, shouting: “Do not flee from me now! I see you plain! Will you not slow your pace; why are you so fleet of foot?”
Madouc and Sir Pom-Pom followed for a space, then stopped to listen, hoping that Travante would return, but the cries grew fainter and ever fainter and at last could be heard no more.
The two returned slowly to the road, pausing often to look and listen, but the forest had become still. In the road, they waited an hour, walking slowly back and forth, but at last they reluctantly set off into the west.
At noon they arrived at the Great North-South Road. The two turned south, Sir Pom-Pom as usual in the lead.
Finally Sir Pom-Pom halted in exasperation and looked over his shoulder. “I have had enough forest! The open country lies ahead; why do you tarry and loiter?”
“It happens without my knowing,” said Madouc. “The reason I suppose is this: each step brings me closer to Haidion and I have decided that I am a better vagabond than princess.”
Sir Pom-Pom gave a scornful grunt. “As for me, I am bored with this constant trudging through the dust! The roads never end; they simply join into another road, so that a wanderer never comes to his journey’s end.”
“That is the nature of the vagabond.”
“Bah! It is not for me! The scenery shifts with every ten steps; before one can start to enjoy the view it is gone!”
Madouc sighed. “I understand your impatience! It is reasonable! You want to present the Holy Grail to the Church and win grand honours for yourself.”
“The honours need not be so grand,” said Sir Pom-Pom. “I would like the rank of baron or knight, a small estate with a manor house, stables, barn, sty, stock, poultry and hives, a patch of quiet woodland and a stream of good fishing.”
“So it may be,” said Madouc. “As for me, if I did not want Spargoy the Chief Herald to identify Sir Pellinore, I might not go back to Haidion at all.”
“That is folly,” said Sir Pom-Pom.
“So it may be,” said Madouc once again.
“In any event, since we have decided to return, let us not delay.”
4
At Old Street Madouc and Sir Pom-Pom turned west until they arrived at the village Frogmarsh and the road south, sometimes known as ‘the Lower Way’, which led to Lyonesse Town.
During the afternoon clouds began to loom in the west; toward evening trails of rain brushed the landscape. In a convenient meadow, behind a copse of olive trees, Madouc raised the pavilion, and the two rested warm and secure while the rain drummed on the fabric. For much of the night lightning flashed and thunder rumbled, but in the morning the clouds had broken and the sun rose bright to shine upon a world fresh and wet.
Madouc reduced the pavilion; the two continued down the road: into a region of pinnacles and gorges, between the twin crags Maegher and Yax—known as the Arqueers—then out under the open sky and down a long rolling slope, with the Lir visible in the distance.
From behind came the rumble of galloping hooves. The two moved to the side of the road, and the riders passed by: three rakehelly young noblemen, with three equerries riding at their backs. Madouc looked up at the same moment Prince Cassander glanced aside and into her face. For a fleeting instant their eyes met, and in that time Cassander’s face sagged into a mask of disbelief. With a flapping arm he waved his comrades to a halt, then wheeled his horse and trotted back, to learn whether or not his eyes had deceived him.
Cassander reined up his horse near Madouc and his expression changed to half-scornful half-pitying amusement. He looked Madouc up and down, darted a glinting blue glance at Sir Pom-Pom, then gave a chuckle of incredulous laughter. “Either I am hallucinating or this unkempt little ragamuffin lurking beside the ditch is the Princess Madouc! Sometimes known as Madouc of the Hundred Follies and the Fifty Crimes!”
Madouc said stiffly: “You may put aside that tone of voice, since I am neither fool nor criminal, nor yet do I lurk.”
Cassander jumped down from his horse. The years had changed him, thought Madouc, and not for the better. His amiability had disappeared under a crust of vanity; his self-conscious airs made him seem pompous; with his highly colored face, tight brassy curls, petulant mouth and hard blue eyes, he seemed a callow replica of his father. In measured tones he answered Madouc: “Your condition lacks dignity; you bring ridicule upon us all.”
Madouc gave a stony shrug. “If you do not like what you see, look elsewhere.”
Cassander threw back his head and laughed. “Your appearance is not so bad, after all; in fact, travel seems to become you! But your deeds do a disservice to the royal house.”
“Ha!” said Madouc in scorn. “Your own deeds are not above criticism. In fact, they are a scandal, as everyone knows.”
Cassander laughed again, if uneasily. His comrades joined the amusement. “I am speaking of different deeds,” said Cassander. “Shall I enumerate? Item: you created a furore of hysterical inquiries. Item: you instigated a thousand recriminations which were discharged willy-nilly in all directions. Item: you have nourished a volume of angers, carks, resentments and sore emotions beyond all estimate. Item: you have focused upon yourself a full spate of bitter reproaches, not to mention threats, judgments and curses. Item:—”
“Enough,” said Madouc. “It seems that I am not popular at Haidion; you need not proceed. It is all beside the point, and you yourself speak from ignorance.”
“Just so. The fox in the poultry-run cannot be blamed for the cackling of the pullets.”
“Your jokes are too airy for my understanding.”
“No matter,” said Cassander. He jerked his thumb toward Sir Pom-Pom. “Is this not one of the stableboys?”
“What of that? King Casmir allowed me horses and an escort. Our horses were stolen, so now we go afoot.”
“For a royal princess a stableboy is not suitable escort.”
“I have no complaints. Sir Pom-Pom, or Pymfyd, as you know him, has conducted himself well and our quests have been for the most part successful.”
Prince Cassander shook his head in wonder. “And what were these marvellous quests, that His Majesty should approve them so readily?”
“Sir Pom-Pom went in search of holy relics, in accordance with the king’s proclamation. I went to establish my pedigree, by the king’s own order.”
“Odd, most odd!” said Cassander. “Perhaps the king was distracted and paid no heed; there is much on his mind. We will travel to Avallon in a day or so for a great colloquy, and His Majesty perhaps did not understand what was afoot. As to your pedigree, what have you learned, if anything?”
Madouc glanced haughtily at Cassander’s grinning comrades. “It is not a matter to be aired before underlings.”
The mirth of Cassander’s friends froze on their faces.
“As you like,” said Cassander. He looked back to the three equerries. “You, Parlitz, dismount and ride behind Ondel; the princess shall use your horse. You, my lad—” he pointed to Sir Pom-Pom “—you may ride behind Wullam on the bay. Come now, promptly does it! We must be home by noon!”
Along the way Cassander rode by Madouc’s side and tried to make conversation. “How did you learn your pedigree?”
“I consulted my mother.”
“How did you find her?”
“We went to Madling Meadow, which is deep in the Forest of Tantrevalles.”
“Aha! Is that not dangerous?”
“Extremely, if one is careless.”
“Hmf! And did you encounter such dangers?”
“We did, for a fact.”
“And how did you evade them?”
“My mother has taught me a few trifles of fairy magic.”
“Tell me about this magic!”
“She does not like me to discuss such things. Still, some time I will tell you of our adventures. I am not in the mood to do so now.”
Cassander spoke austerely: “You are a strange little creature! I wonder what will become of you!”
“Often I wonder the same.”
“Ha bah!” declared Cassander in his most positive manner. “One thing is certain, if nothing else! Destiny frowns on unruly little itlings who expect everyone to dance whenever they play their tunes!”
“It is not quite so simple,” said Madouc, without any great interest.
Cassander fell silent, and so the party rode on toward Lyonesse Town. After a mile or two, Cassander spoke again. “Do not expect a gala reception—if only because we depart for Avallon on the day after tomorrow.”
“I have been wondering about this journey. What is the occasion?”
“It is a grand colloquy called by King Audry at King Casmir’s suggestion, and all the kings of the Elder Isles will be on hand.”
Madouc said: “I return at a lucky time! If I had delayed two days longer, I would have been too late for the journey.” After a thoughtful pause she said: “And the history of the Elder Isles might have veered in sudden new directions.”
“Eh? What is that you say?”
“It concerns a concept which you mentioned only moments ago.”
“I recall no such concept.”
“You mentioned ‘Destiny’.”
“Oh, ah! So I did! I am still perplexed. What is the connection?”
“No matter. I spoke at random.”
Cassander said, with pointed politeness: “I am obliged to mention once more that you are not in good odour at Haidion, and no one will be anxious to gratify your desires.”
“To what effect?”
“It may be that you will not be asked to join the royal party.”
“We shall see.”
The group rode down the Sfer Arct, rounded the tree-covered bluff known as Skansea Vantage, and all of Lyonesse Town was spread wide before their eyes, with Castle Haidion bulking large in the foreground. Ten minutes later the troop turned into the King’s Parade and halted in front of the castle. Cassander jumped to the ground and with a courtly flourish assisted Madouc to alight. “Now we shall see,” said Cassander. “Do not expect a warm reception and you will not be disappointed. The most charitable term I have heard applied to you is: ‘recklessly insubordinate.’”
“Those ideas are not correct, as I have already explained to you!”
Cassander gave a sardonic laugh. “You must prepare to explain again, and with considerably more humility, or so I would suggest.”
Madouc made no comment. In a not unkindly voice Cassander said: “Come! I will take you into the presence of the king and queen, and perhaps in some degree soften their shock.”
Madouc signalled to Sir Pom-Pom. “You must come too. We shall go in together.”
Cassander looked from one to the other. “That is surely unnecessary!” He gestured toward Sir Pom-Pom. “Be off with you, boy; we need you no more. Get back to your duties as quickly and furtively as possible and make what peace you can with the stablemaster.”
“Not so!” said Madouc. “Sir Pom-Pom must remain in our company, for a most important reason, as you will presently discover.”
Cassander shrugged. “Just as you like; let us go do what must be done.”
The three entered the castle. In the great gallery they came upon Sir Mungo the High Seneschal. Cassander asked: “Where are the king and queen to be found?”
“You will find them in the Green Parlour, Your Highness. They have just finished their repast, and now sit over cheese and wine.”
“Thank you, good Sir Mungo.” Cassander led the way to the Green Parlour, only to discover that King Casmir’s place was empty. Queen Sollace sat with three of her favorites, all nibbling grapes from a wide wicker basket. Cassander stepped forward, and bowed politely: first to the queen, then to the other ladies, and the conversation stopped short. Cassander asked: “Where, may I ask, is His Highness the King?”
Queen Sollace, still unaware of Madouc’s presence, said: “He has gone early to his Seat of Judgment, that he may perform his necessary acts of justice before we leave for Avallon.”
Cassander brought Madouc forward, and announced with rather forced facetiousness: “I have here a pleasant surprise! Look who we found along the way!”
Queen Sollace stared at Madouc with mouth agape. The ladies-in-waiting made small hissing noises and titters of wonder and surprise. Queen Sollace closed her mouth with a snap. “So the little recreant has decided to show herself again!”
Cassander said in a courtly voice: “Your Highness, I suggest that for the purpose of your consultation with the princess, privacy is appropriate.”
“Quite so,” said Sollace. “Ladies, be good enough to leave us now.”
The ladies, with covert glances of curiosity toward Madouc and veiled annoyance for Cassander, departed the chamber.
