Jack Vance, page 40
Queen Sollace again turned her gaze upon Madouc. “Now then, perhaps you will explain your truancy! It has been the source of our great concern. Tell us: where have you been hiding?”
“With all respect, Your Highness, I must state that you have been misinformed. I have not been hiding, nor have I performed any mischiefs. Indeed, I set forth on a quest which was sanctioned by His Majesty, the King, and I was expelled from your presence and from Haidion by your own words.”
Queen Sollace blinked. “I remember none of this! You are formulating spiteful tales! The king was as nonplussed as I!”
“Surely he will remember the circumstances! At his behest I went to learn the identity of my father and the condition of my pedigree. I have acted only within the scope allowed me by Your Majesties!”
Sollace’s face became mulish. “It is possible that one or the other made an absent-minded remark which you chose to twist to fit your own wishes. I deplore such tactics!”
“I am sorry to hear this, Your Majesty, especially since these tactics have worked to your great benefit!”
Once again Queen Sollace stared in wonder. “Do I hear you aright?”
“Indeed you do, Your Highness! Prepare yourself for an announcement which will stupefy you with joy!”
“Ha!” said Sollace sourly. “I cannot say that I am hopeful on this account.”
Prince Cassander, standing to the side and smiling in lofty amusement, said: “We are listening with keen attention! Announce away!”
Madouc brought Sir Pom-Pom forward. “Your Highness, allow me to introduce Pymfyd, whom I have dubbed ‘Sir Pom-Pom’, by reason of his bravery in my service. Sir Pom-Pom served as my loyal escort, and also went questing on your behalf. At Thripsey Shee we heard mention of the Holy Grail, and immediately became attentive.”
Queen Sollace jerked herself erect. “What? Can it be so? Say on and quickly! You speak the dearest words my ear could hear! Was the information at all circumstantial? Tell me in exact terms what you learned!”
“We heard a rumour that the Grail was guarded by the ogre Throop of the Three Heads, and that a hundred brave knights had died in the attempt to liberate it.”
“And where is it now! Speak! Tell me at once! I am beside myself with excitement!”
“Just so, Your Highness! Throop immured the Grail in a closet of his Castle Doldil, deep within the Forest of Tantrevalles.”
“That is absolutely important news! We must assemble an army of goodly knights and march on an expedition of deliverance! Cassander, go this instant to inform His Highness the King! All else is trivial.”
“Hear me out, Your Highness!” cried Madouc. “I am not yet done! With advice from my mother Sir Pom-Pom and I presented ourselves at Castle Doldil; and there, with bravery unsurpassed, Sir Pom-Pom inflicted death upon Throop and won the Holy Grail, which he has carried back to Lyonesse Town wrapped in purple silk, and which he will now place before you. Sir Pom-Pom, you may present the Holy Grail.”
“I cannot believe this!” cried Queen Sollace. “I am in a state of entrancement, or ecstasy of the ninth order!”
Sir Pom-Pom stepped forward and gravely removed the wrapping of purple silk from the chalice; on bended knee he placed the sacred object on the table before Queen Sollace. “Your Majesty, I hereby offer you this Holy Grail! I hope that you will cherish it with joy, and also that you will grant me the boon of my desires as stated in the king’s proclamation.”
Queen Sollace, her eyes fixed on the Grail, was numb to all else. “Glory of glories! I marvel that this unction has been yielded to me! I am confounded by rapture! It is beyond belief; it is beyond all ordinary scope!”
Madouc said primly: “Your Highness, I must call to your attention that you have Sir Pom-Pom to thank for the presentation of this Grail!”
“Indeed this is so! He has done a magnificent service for the Church, and on behalf of the Church I render him my full and royal thanks! He shall be well rewarded! Cassander, at this moment give the lad a gold piece as an earnest of my favor!”
Cassander brought a gold coin from his pouch and pressed it into Sir Pom-Pom’s hand. “Do not thank me; thank the queen for her generosity!”
Queen Sollace called out to the footman who stood immobile by the door. “Bring Father Umphred here at once, that he may share our joy! Hurry, run on your fastest feet! Tell Father Umphred only that glorious news awaits him!”
Sir Mungo the High Seneschal entered the parlour. “Your Highness, I notified His Majesty in regard to the Princess Madouc. He wishes me to bring her and her companion to the Hall of Judgments.”
Queen Sollace made an absent-minded gesture. “You have my permission to leave. Madouc, you too have worked for the Good, and in my great happiness I discharge you of blame for your transgressions! But in the future you must learn tractability!”
Sir Pom-Pom spoke diffidently: “Your Highness, what of the boon promised by the king? When should I make my wants known, and when will the boon be granted?”
Queen Sollace frowned somewhat impatiently. “In due course any feasible arrangements will be considered. In the meantime, you already have what is best of all: which is to say, the knowledge of how well you have served our Church and our faith!”
Sir Pom-Pom stammered something incoherent, then bowed and backed away. Sir Mungo said: “Princess Madouc, you may come with me at this time, along with your companion.”
Sir Mungo led the two by a side corridor into the ancient Old Hall, through a portal in a dank stone wall out upon a landing, from which a stone ramp descended past monumental stone columns to give into the solemn spaces of the Hall of Judgments.
On a low dais sat King Casmir, wearing the traditional vestments of judgment: a black robe with black gloves, a square of black velvet on his head with gold tassels dependent and a gold fillet above. He sat on a massive throne with a small table before him; to either side of the dais stood a pair of men-at-arms clad in shirts and breeches of black leather, relieved only by epaulettes and brassards of black iron. Helmets of iron and leather clasped their faces, lending them a sinister aspect. Those unfortunate individuals awaiting judgment sat on a bench to one side of the hall, in attitudes of gloom. Those who had already been tortured stared blankly into space, eyes as empty as knotholes.
Sir Mungo brought Madouc and Sir Pom-Pom before the king. “Your Highness, I bring you the Princess Madouc and her companion, as you have requested.”
King Casmir leaned back in his throne and, frowning, considered the two.
Madouc curtseyed primly. “I trust Your Majesty enjoys good health.”
King Casmir’s face altered by not so much as a quiver. At last he spoke. “It seems that Prince Cassander surprised you beside the road. Where have you been and what has been your mischief, to the disgrace of the royal house?”
Madouc spoke haughtily: “Your Majesty has been shamefully misinformed! Far from being surprised by Prince Cassander, we were returning at best speed to Lyonesse Town. Prince Cassander and his friends overtook us along the way. We neither lurked, skulked, hid, fled, nor in any way compromised our dignity. As for mischief and disgrace, Your Majesty again has been victimized by misinformation, since I did no more than obey your instructions.”
King Casmir leaned forward, the pink rising in his already florid face. “I instructed you to skite off into the wilderness, taking neither proper escort nor proper protection?”
“Just so, Your Majesty! You ordered me to discover my pedigree as best I could, and not to trouble you with the details.”
King Casmir slowly swung his head so as to stare at Sir Pom-Pom. “You are the stableboy who supplied the horses?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Your folly in this respect verges upon criminal negligence. Do you think yourself a proper and adequate escort for a royal princess under such circumstances?”
“Yes, Your Majesty, since that has been my occupation. I have long served the princess faithfully and there has never been aught but approval for the quality of my service.”
King Casmir leaned back once again. In a slow cold voice he inquired: “You perceive no more hazard in a long journey by night and day, through strange parts and dangerous wilderness, than an afternoon’s outing in the meadows at Sarris?”
“Sire, there is a difference indeed. But you must know that, on the basis of your proclamation, I had already decided to go questing for holy relics.”
“That is not germane to the wrongfulness of your conduct.”
Madouc spoke out angrily: “Your Majesty, I commanded him to this conduct; he is guilty only of obedience to my orders.”
“Ha hah! And if you had ordered him to set fire to Castle Haidion, so that it burned in roaring flames, and he did so: would that make him no more than a dutiful servant?”
“No, Your Majesty, but—”
“To fulfill his duty best he should have notified someone in authority of your demands, and requested official permission. I have heard enough. Bailiff, take this person behind the Peinhador for a flogging of seven strokes, for his better instruction in prudent conduct.”
Madouc cried out: “Your Majesty, one moment! You are pronouncing sentence too roundly and too rapidly. Both Pymfyd and I went out on our separate quests, and both of us were successful. I learned the name of my father, while Pymfyd did you and the queen a notable service; he killed the ogre Throop and won away the Holy Grail which he only just now presented to Her Majesty. She is ecstatic with joy! By your proclamation, Sir Pom-Pom has earned a boon!”
King Casmir smiled a small smile. “Bailiff, reduce the flogging to six strokes and allow this tow-headed gossoon the resumption of his post at the stable. That shall be his boon.”
“Come, sirrah!” said the bailiff. “This way, come!” He led Sir Pom-Pom from the hall.
Madouc looked at King Casmir aghast. “But you gave me full permission to do what I did! You told me to take an escort, and always I had taken him before!”
King Casmir made a sharp gesture with his clenched right hand. “Enough! You must understand meanings rather than words. You thought to trick me and the fault is yours.”
Madouc, looking into Casmir’s eyes, saw new meanings and took new understandings, which caused her to flinch. She held her face composed, though now she hated Casmir with all her being.
King Casmir spoke: “You learned the identity of your father, then. What is his name?”
“He is a certain Sir Pellinore of Aquitaine, Your Majesty.”
King Casmir considered. “Sir Pellinore? The name has a familiar ring. Somewhere I have encountered it; perhaps long ago.” He turned to the High Seneschal. “Bring me here Spargoy the Herald.”
Spargoy the Chief Herald presented himself. “Sire, your wishes?”
“Who is Sir Pellinore of Aquitaine? Where is his seat and what are his connections?”
“‘Sir Pellinore’, Sire? Someone has spoken in jest.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Sir Pellinore is a creature of fancy! He exists only in the romantic fables of Aquitaine, where he does marvellous deeds and woos lovely maidens and travels far and wide on wonderful quests! But that is all there is to Sir Pellinore.”
King Casmir looked at Madouc. “Well, then? What now?”
“Nothing,” said Madouc. “Have I your leave to go?”
“Go.”
5
Madouc went on laggard feet to her old chambers. She stood in the doorway looking to right and left, at objects and articles which at one time had brought her comfort. The rooms, which she had thought so large and airy, seemed barely adequate. She summoned a maid and ordered hot water for her bath. Using mild yellow soap imported from Andalusia, she scrubbed herself and her copper-gold curls, and rinsed in water scented with lavender. Looking through her wardrobe, she discovered that her old garments now fit her somewhat too snugly. Strange, thought Madouc; how quickly the time went by! She studied her legs; they were still taut and slender, but—was it her imagination?—they looked somehow different than she remembered them; and her breasts were at least perceptible, if anyone troubled to look.
Madouc gave a fatalistic sigh. The changes were coming faster than she might have liked. She finally found a costume which still fit her nicely; a loose skirt of pale blue homespun and a white blouse embroidered with blue flowers. She brushed out her curls and tied them back with a blue ribbon. Then she went to sit in her chair and look from the window.
There was much to reflect upon: so much that her mind whirled from place to place, with ideas darting in and out, never staying long enough to take full shape. She thought of Sir Pellinore, Twisk, King Casmir in his black robes, and poor Sir Pom-Pom with his stricken face. Here she averted her mind for fear that she would become sick. Zerling, were he to apply the strokes, would surely do so without undue energy, to allow Sir Pom-Pom the flesh and skin of his back.
Thoughts swirled around the edges of her attention like moths around a flame. One set of such thoughts was more persistent than the others and nagged at her notice, insisting on its importance. These thoughts were connected with the forthcoming visit of the royal family to Avallon. Madouc had not been invited to join the group, and half-suspected that neither Queen Sollace nor King Casmir would trouble to do so—even though Prince Cassander would be on hand, together with princes and princesses from other courts of the Elder Isles—including Prince Dhrun of Troicinet. And she would not be there! The idea brought her a queer little pang, of a sort she had never known before.
For a space Madouc sat looking from her window with the image of Dhrun before her mind. And she found herself yearning for his company. It was a sensation melancholy and hurtful, yet somehow pleasant, and so Madouc sat dreaming.
Another idea entered her mind: a notion at first casual and then gradually becoming harsh and grim and frightening as it took on dimension. At Falu Ffail were the Round Table Cairbra an Meadhan and Evandig, the ancient throne of the Palaemon kings. The first-born son of Suldrun—so went the rhyme of Persilian the Magic Mirror—would sit at Cairbra an Meadhan and rule from Evandig before his death. This prophecy, according to Twisk, had become King Casmir’s torment and his preoccupation, so that his days were taken up with devious plots and his nights with schemes of murder.
At Falu Ffail King Casmir, the Round Table, the throne Evandig and Prince Dhrun would be in proximity. The situation could not have escaped the attention of King Casmir; indeed, according to Cassander, he had proposed the colloquy to King Audry.
Madouc jumped to her feet. She must be included in the party journeying to Avallon. If not, then she would once again take leave of Haidion, and this time she would never return.
Madouc found the queen in her private parlour, in company with Father Umphred. Madouc entered so unobtrusively that Queen Sollace seemed not to notice her coming. At the center of a table, on a golden platter, rested the sacred blue chalice. Queen Sollace sat rapt in contemplation of the fabulous vessel. At her side Father Umphred stood, plump arms clasped behind his back, also engrossed in a study of the Grail. Elsewhere around the chamber a number of the queen’s intimates sat murmuring together, pitching their voices at a low level so as not to disturb the queen in her reverie.
Father Umphred noticed Madouc’s arrival. Bending, he spoke into the queen’s ear. Sollace raised her head and looked half blankly around the chamber. She saw Madouc and beckoned. “Come hither, Princess! There is much we would know.”
Madouc advanced and performed a grave curtsey. “I am at the disposal of Your Highness, of course, and I have much to tell. It will be, I am sure, to your great fascination.”
“Speak! We wish to hear all!”
“Your Highness, allow me a suggestion! The telling will dissolve boredom during the journey to Avallon. If I tell you bits and incidents piecemeal, you will not appreciate the scope of our adventure nor the desperate manner in which we won the Grail.”
“Ha, hm,” said Queen Sollace. “I had not expected that you would be attending us on the journey. But, now that I reflect, it seems quite appropriate. There will be a number of notables present at King Audry’s court, and perhaps you will attract favorable attention.”
“In that case, Your Highness, I must immediately enlarge my wardrobe, since none of my old gowns are now suitable.”
“We will instantly take this matter in hand. Two nights and a day intervene before our departure; this should be time enough.” Queen Sollace signalled to one of her maids. “Have the seamstresses set to work at once. I stipulate not only haste and creditable workmanship, but also color and style appropriate to Madouc’s years and innocence. There need be no bedizenry of precious gems or yellow gold; such adjuncts would go unnoticed on this barely female slip of a kitkin.”
“As your Highness commands! I suggest that the princess come with me now, that the work may be expedited!”
“Sensible and to the point! Madouc, you have my leave to go.”
6
The dressmakers brought out their fabrics, and consulted among themselves as to the nature and scope of their undertaking. Madouc, still smarting from Queen Sollace’s deprecatory instructions, listened with head cocked sidewise. At last she intervened. “You are talking for naught! I want none of your sallow yellows or pasty ecrus or horse-vomit greens, and you must reconsider your styles!”
Hulda, the senior seamstress, spoke with concern. “How so, Your Highness? We are bound to sew what is genteel and suitable!”
“You are bound to sew what I will consent to wear; otherwise your work will be wasted.”
“Of course, Your Highness! We want you to be happy and at ease in your garments!”
“Then you must sew as I direct. I will not wear these blooming pantaloons or these bloodless bodices that you are discussing.”
“Ah, Your Highness, these are what young maidens of your age are wearing.”
“That is the least of my concerns.”
Hulda sighed. “Ah well, then! How does Your Highness wish to be dressed?”
