Lyonesse II - The Green Pear and Madouc (85 page)

King Casmir started to speak, using a dangerous voice, but Madouc was quick to anticipate him. "In ordinary matters I would hope to obey you, but remember: my marriage is far more important to me than it is to you."

King Casmir bent slowly forward. Over the years dozens of frightened wretches had seen such an expression on his face before being dragged away to torment in the dungeons under the Peinhador. Casmir spoke from deep in his throat: "So you think to thwart my volition?"

Madouc spoke more carefully than ever. "There are circumstances, Your Highness, which make the plan impossible!"

"What circumstances are these?"

"First, I despise Prince Brezante. If he is so anxious to marry, let him betroth himself to Lady Vosse or Chlodys. Second, if you will recall, I am born of halfling mother and an unknown father. My pedigree is lacking; for this reason, my maidens call me 'bastard', which I cannot deny. If King Milo knew of this, he would consider the betrothal a mockery, and an insult to his house."

King Casmir blinked and stood silent. Madouc rose to her feet and stood demurely leaning on the table. "Therefore, Your Highness, the betrothal is not possible. You must make other plans, which do not include me."

"Bah!" muttered Casmir. "All these circumstances are small fish in a big pan. Neither Milo nor Brezante need know of them! After all, who would tell them?"

"The task would fall to me," said Madouc. "It would be my duty."

"That is sheer blather!"

Madouc hurried on, her tongue almost tripping over itself. "Not so, Your Highness! I merely use the faith and candour I have learned from your noble example! Decent respect for the honour of both royal houses would compel me to admit my condition, no matter what the consequences!"

King Casmir spoke out harshly: "It means nothing; I assure you of this! To talk of honour is frivol and foolishness! If it is a pedigree you need, the heralds will contrive something suitable and I will fix it upon you by ordinance!"

Madouc smilingly shook her head. "Bad cheese stinks, no matter how thin it is sliced. Such a pedigree would be a laughable deceit. Folk would call you a black-hearted monster, as false as a stoat, ready for any lie or duplicity. Everyone would sneer and joke; I would be doubly ridiculed, and doubly demeaned, for allowing such a brazen falsity! They would further call you a-"

Casmir made a brusque gesture. "Stop! That is enough!"

Madouc said meekly: "I was only explaining why my true and very own pedigree is essential to me."

King Casmir's patience was wearing thin. "This is folly, and I quite beside the point! I do not propose to be thwarted by such paltriness! Now then-"

Madouc cried out plaintively: "The facts cannot be denied, Your Highness! I lack all pedigree."

"Then construct yourself a pedigree, or find one that you deem proper, and it shall be fixed upon you by fiat! Only be quick! Ask Spargoy the Chief Herald for help."

"I would prefer the help of someone else."

"Whoever you like! Fact or fancy, it is all one; I am indifferent to your whims. Only be quick!"

"Just so, Your Majesty. I will do as you command."

Casmir's attention was caught by a bland overtone in Madouc's response: why had she become so docile? "In the meantime, I will initiate discussions in regard to the betrothal. This must proceed!"

Madouc gave a poignant little cry of protest. "Your Highness, have I not just explained that this cannot be?"

Casmir's torso seemed to swell. Madouc moved a slow step around the table, to put its maximum diameter between her and King Casmir. She cried out: "Nothing has changed, Your Highness! I will search everywhere for my pedigree, but even should I discover the King of Byzantium for my sire, Prince Brezante remains as obnoxious as ever. If he speaks a single word to me, I shall declare myself an orphan bastard whom King Casmir wishes to foist off on him. If he is not deterred I will show him the 'Tinkle-toe Imp-spring', so that he leaps six feet into the air."

King Casmir's cheeks had become pink and his eyes bulged blue from his face. He took three strides around the table, in order that he might seize Madouc and beat her well. Madouc warily darted off an equal distance around the table. Casmir

lumbered in pursuit, but Madouc ran nimbly to keep the table always between them. Casmir at last halted, breathing hard both from passion and exertion. Madouc said breathlessly: "You must excuse me for evading you, Your Highness, but I do not care to be beaten again."

"I will call the footmen," said Casmir. "They will take you to a dark room, and I will beat you at my leisure and perhaps do else to you. No one defies me and escapes unscathed." He took a slow step around the table, staring fixedly at Madouc as if trying to fascinate her into immobility.

Madouc sidled aside, and spoke tremulously: "I beg you not to do such things, Your Highness! You will notice that I have not used my fairy magic upon you, which would be disrespectful. I command not only the 'Sissle-way' and the 'Tinkle-toe' but also-" Madouc groped for inspiration, which was not slow in coming "-an irksome spell called 'Insect's Arrayance', to be used only on persons who threaten me!"

"Oh?" asked King Casmir in a gentle voice. "Tell me of this spell!" And he took a slow step around the table.

Madouc hurriedly skipped aside. "When I am compelled to afflict some vile cur of a villain, insects swarm upon him from all directions! By day and by night they come, high and low, down from the sky, up from the soil!"

"That is an unnerving prospect."

"True, Your Highness! Please do not creep around the table, as you frighten me and I might blurt out the 'Arrayance' by mistake!"

"Indeed? Tell me more of this marvellous spell."

"First come the fleas! They jump through the vile cur's golden beard, also his hair; they swarm in his rich garments till he tears his skin for scratching!"

"Irksome! Stand quietly, and tell me more!" King Casmir made a sudden movement; Madouc jumped around the table and spoke in desperate haste: "When he sleeps large spiders crawl across his face! Weevils burrow into his skin and drop from his nose! He finds beetles in his soup and roaches in his porridge! Blowflies crawl into his mouth and lay eggs in his ears; when he walks out he is beleaguered by gnats and moths and darting grasshoppers; wasps and bumblebees sting him at random!"

King Casmir stood scowling. "And you control this awful spell?"

"Oh yes indeed! There is worse to come! Should the villain fall to the ground, he is instantly overcome by a seethe of ants. Naturally, I would use this spell only to protect myself!"

"Of course!" King Casmir smiled a small hard smile. "But do you truly command a spell of such power? I suspect not."

"In all candour, I have forgotten one or two of the syllables," said Madouc bravely. "However they come readily enough from my mother's tongue. I can call her at need, and she will transform my enemies into toads, moles or salamanders, as I dictate, and this you must believe, since it is truth!"

King Casmir stared at Madouc a long moment. He made an abrupt gesture signifying a dozen emotions. "Go. Remove yourself from my sight."

Madouc performed a dainty little curtsey. "I am grateful for Your Majesty's kind clemency." She slipped gingerly past Casmir; then, with a sly glance back over her shoulder, ran quickly from the room.

King Casmir walked with a slow and ponderous tread along the gallery, up the stairs and, after a moment's pause, along the corridor to the queen's sitting room. The footman standing at attention thrust the door wide; King Casmir marched into the room. Discovering Queen Sollace in earnest colloquy with Father Umphred, King Casmir stopped short and stood glowering. Queen and priest turned to look at him, their voices instantly hushed. Father Umphred performed a smiling bow. Casmir, ignoring the salute, marched across the room to the window, where he stood in morose contemplation of the vista.

After a respectful pause, Queen Sollace and Father Umphred resumed their conversation: at first in muted tones so as not to intrude upon King Casmir's cogitations; then, as he seemed neither to heed nor to hear, in their ordinary voices. As usual, they discussed the new cathedral. The two were agreed that all appurtenances and furnishings should be of the richest and most superb quality; only the best could be considered suitable.

"The focus of all-one might say, the inspirational node-is the altar," declared Father Umphred. "It is where all eyes look and the source from which rings out the Holy Word! We must ensure that it equals or transcends any other of Christendom!"

"I am of like mind," said Queen Sollace. "How fortunate we are! It is an opportunity vouchsafed to very few!"

"Exactly so, dear lady!" Father Umphred turned a side glance toward the bulky figure at the window, but King Casmir seemed absorbed in his own thoughts. "I have prepared certain drawings; unfortunately I neglected to bring them with me."

Queen Sollace gave a cry of disappointment. "Describe them, if you will! I would be interested to hear!"

Father Umphred bowed. "I envision an altar of rare wood supported by fluted columns of pink Cappadocian marble. To either side candelabra of seven sconces shall stand, stately and tall, like transfigured luciferous angels! Such will be their effect! Eventually they shall be wrought of pure gold; for the nonce we will use articles of gold leaf on plaster."

"We will do what needs to be done!"

"Below the altar is stationed the pyx, on a table of fine wood carved with a frieze depicting the twelve archangels. The pyx shall be a vessel of silver, inlaid with carbuncles, lapis and jade; it shall rest on a cloth embroidered with sacred signs, in simulation of that holy cloth known as the 'Tasthapes'. Behind the altar, the wall will be divided into twelve panels, each enamelled in designs of pure color to represent a scene of portent, for the joy of the beholder and the glory of the Faith."

Queen Sollace spoke fervently: "I can see it now, as if in a vision! The concept moves me deeply!"

Father Umphred, after another quick glance toward the window, said: "My dear lady, you are obviously sensitive to spiritual influences, and far beyond the ordinary! But let us consider how best to order our holy relics. The question is this: should we provide a particular reliquarium-let us say, to the side of the vestibule? Or perhaps a more general display in one of the transepts, or both, in the event we acquire several of these sacred objects?"

Queen Sollace said wistfully, "As of now, with nothing to display, we can make no serious plans."

Father Umphred made a gesture of reproach. "Have faith, dear lady! It has sustained you in the past! These objects exist, and we will procure them."

"But can you be certain of this?"

"With faith and perseverance, we will find them, wherever they may be! Some remain to be discovered; others have been cherished and lost, and need finding again. I cite you the Cross of Saint Elric, who was cooked and eaten by the ogre Magre, one limb at a time. To fortify himself during the ordeal, he fashioned a crucifix from his two discarded tibia. This crucifix was at one time a treasure of Saint Bac’s Monastery at Dun Cruighre; where is it now? Who knows?"

"Then how would we find it?"

"Through careful and dedicated search. I cite also the Talisman of Saint Uldine, who worked to convert Phogastus, troll of Black Meira Tarn. Her efforts were extended; indeed, she bore Phogastus four implings
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, each with a round bloodstone in the place of a third eye. The four stones were detached and set into a talisman, now immured somewhere among the crypts at Whanish Isle. This is also an object of mighty force; still it could be won by a person staunch and intrepid. In Galicia, on the Pico Alto, is a monastery founded by the heretic Bishop Sangiblas. The monks preserve in their crypts one of the nails which pinned the feet of Our Saviour. I could cite other such relics. Those which are not lost are revered and guarded with care. They might be difficult to obtain."

Queen Sollace spoke decisively: "No good thing comes with out hardship. That is the lesson of life!"

"How true!" intoned Father Umphred. "Your Highness has succinctly clarified a whole heron's nest of untidy ambiguities!"

Queen Sollace asked: "Was there not some talk of the Grail? I refer to that sacred utensil used by the Saviour at his Last Supper, and which Joseph of Arimathea caught blood from the divine wounds. What are the tidings of this sanctified vessel?"

Father Umphred pursed his lips. "The reports are not exact. We know that it was brought to Glastonbury Abbey by Joseph of Arimathea, then carried to Ireland and housed in a chapel on the islet Inchagoill in Lough Corrib; thence it was brought to the Elder Isles by a monk named Sisembert through fear of the pagans, and now it is deemed to be in secret custody: in a mysterious place to be dared only by the most gallant or the most foolhardy!"

King Casmir had been listening to the conversation with half an ear. Now he turned, to stand with his back to the window, his face showing cynical amusement. Queen Sollace turned him an inquiring look, but King Casmir seemed to have nothing to say. She turned back to Father Umphred.

"If only we could assemble a brotherhood of noble paladins, devoted to the service of their queen! I would send them forth on a quest of glory, with all honour for him who succeeded in the enterprise!"

"It is an excellent scheme, Your Highness! It fires the imagination!"

"And then, should we secure the Grail, I would feel that my life's effort had been well spent!"

"It is undoubtedly the finest relic of all."

"Surely we must obtain it for our own! The glory of our cathedral would resound across all Christendom."

"Quite true, my dear lady! The vessel is a very good relic, very fine indeed. Pilgrims would come from afar to marvel, to pray, to bless the saintly queen who ordained the great church!"

King Casmir could tolerate no more. He took a step forward. "I have heard enough foolish prattle!" He jerked his thumb toward the priest. "Go! I wish to speak with the queen!"

"Just so, Your Highness!" Father Umphred gathered up his gown and took his portly figure briskly from the parlour. He turned aside at once, into a dressing room adjacent to the parlour. After a quick look over his shoulder, he stepped into a closet and removed a small plug in the wall, which allowed him to hear all that went on.