by Jack Vance
Madouc tried to dodge and dart through the doorway, but King Casmir seized her and bent her over his leg. When she tried to hiss, he clapped his hand to her mouth, then thrust a kerchief between her teeth. Taking the whisk from Ermelgart, he struck six majestic strokes, so that the withes whistled through the air.
King Casmir released his grip. Madouc slowly righted her self, tears of humiliation and rage coursing down her cheeks. King Casmir asked in a heavily sardonic voice: "And what do you think of that, Miss Sly-Boots?"
Madouc stood holding both hands to her smarting haunches. "I think that I will ask my mother for some new tricks."
Casmir opened his mouth, then suddenly became still. After a tense moment he said: "Your mother is dead."
Madouc in her fury thought only to detach herself in utter totality from both Casmir and Sollace. "My mother was not Suldrun, and you know this full well."
"What are you saying?" roared Casmir, standing back. "Is this more impudence?"
Madouc sniffed and decided to say no more.
Casmir blustered on: "If I say your mother is dead, she is dead! Do you want another beating?"
"My mother is the fairy Twisk," said Madouc. "Beat me as you like; it changes nothing. As for my father, he remains a mystery, and I still lack a pedigree."
"Hm hah," said Casmir, thinking over this and that. "Quite so. A pedigree is something everyone should have."
"I am happy that you agree, since one of these days I intend to search out my own."
"Unnecessary!" declared Casmir bluffly. "You are Princess Madouc and your pedigree or its lack need never be called into question."
"A fine long pedigree is better than its lack."
"Just so." Casmir looked around the chamber, to find all eyes fixed upon him. He signalled to Madouc. "Come."
King Casmir led the way to his private sitting room. He pointed to a sofa. "Be seated."
Madouc perched herself gingerly upon the cushions, to the best possible easement of her pain, watching King Casmir warily all the while. King Casmir paced up the length of the room, then back. Madouc's parentage was irrelevant; so long as no one knew the facts. Princess Madouc could be used to cement a valuable alliance. Madouc the changeling waif lacked all value in this regard. Casmir stopped short in his tracks. "You suspect, then, that Suldrun was not your mother?"
"My mother is Twisk. She is alive and she is a fairy."
"I will be frank," said Casmir. "Indeed we knew you for a changeling, but you were so bonny a baby that we could not put you aside. We took you to our hearts as ‘Princess Madouc'. That is how it is today. You enjoy all the privileges of true royalty, and of course the obligations, as well." Casmir's voice changed a degree or two in timbre, and he watched Madouc covertly. "Unless, of course, Suldrun's true-born son came forward to claim his birthright. What do you know of him?"
Madouc wriggled to lessen the throbbing of her scantily padded buttocks. "I asked about my pedigree, but to no avail."
"You did not learn the fate of your counterpart-the changeling who would be Suldrun's son, and just your own age?"
With great effort Madouc quelled a gleeful laugh. A year in the fairy shee meant time far longer in the outside world perhaps seven years, or eight, or nine; no exact correspondence could be made. Casmir had no inkling of the case. "He is nothing to me," said Madouc. "Perhaps he still haunts the shee. Or he may well be dead; the Forest of Tantrevalles is a perilous place."
King Casmir asked sharply: "Why are you smiling?"
"It is a wince of pain," said Madouc. "Do you not remember? You struck me six vicious blows. I remember well."
With narrowed eyes King Casmir asked: "And what do you mean by that?"
Madouc looked up, blue eyes innocent. "I use no special meaning other than the words themselves. Is that not the way you talk?"
King Casmir frowned. "Now then! Let us not maunder and gloom over past grievances! Many happy times lie ahead. To be a princess of Lyonesse is an excellent thing!"
"I hope that you will explain this to Lady Vosse, so that she will obey my orders or, better, return to Wildmay Fourtowers."
King Casmir cleared his throat. "As to that, who knows? Queen Sollace perhaps has a preference. Aha, then, harrumph! Naturally we cannot flaunt our secrets far and wide, for the vulgar interest. Away would fly your chances for a grand marriage! Therefore, we will bury these facts deep in obscurity. I will speak to Ermelgart, the priest and Lady Vosse; they will not gossip. And as always, you are the charming Princess Madouc, full and whole, whom we all love so well."
"I feel sick," said Madouc. "I think I will go now." She rose to her feet and went to the door. Here she paused to look back over her shoulder, to find King Casmir watching her with a brooding expression, legs apart, arms behind his heavy torso.
Madouc said softly: "Please do not forget; I want no more of Lady Vosse; she has proved herself a disgrace and a failure."
King Casmir only grunted: a sound signifying almost any thing. Madouc turned and left the room.
III
Spring became summer, but this year there would be no removal to Sarris. The decision had been dictated by affairs of state, King Casmir having become involved in a dangerous game which must be controlled with precision and finesse.
The game had been initiated by a sudden turmoil in the Kingdom of Blaloc. Casmir hoped to manipulate events to his advantage, so blandly that neither King Audry nor King Aillas could reasonably make protest.
The troubles in Blaloc stemmed from a debility suffered by King Milo. After long dedication to the joys of tankard, tun and beaker, he had at last succumbed to swollen joints, gout and bloat of the liver, and now lay in the dark, apparently moribund, speaking only in grunts. For nourishment the doctors allowed him only raw egg beaten into buttermilk and an occasional oyster, but the regimen seemed to have little beneficial effect.
Of King Milo's three sons, only the youngest, Prince Brezante, had survived, and was now heir-apparent to the throne. Brezante lacked force of character and for a variety of reasons was unpopular with many of the grandees. Others, loyal to King Milo and the House of Valeu, gave Brezante lukewarm support. As King Milo continued to decline, the factions became ever more definite in their postures and there was ominous talk of civil strife.
King Milo's authority dwindled by the day, in step with his health, and dukes of the outer provinces ruled their fiefs like independent monarchs. From these troubled circumstances King Casmir hoped to work profit for himself. He contrived a series of small but irking provocations between his own border barons and those dissident dukes whose lands were convenient for the exercise. Every day some small new foray was made into Blaloc from the remote corners of Lyonesse. Sooner or later, so Casmir hoped, one or another of the hot-headed Blaloc dukes, jealous of his prerogatives, would be prompted into a retaliation-whereupon Casmir, on the pretext of maintaining order, keeping the peace and supporting the rule of King Milo, could dispatch an overwhelming force from the nearby Fort Mael and gain control over Blaloc. Then, responding to the prayers of those factions opposed to Prince Brezante, King Casmir would graciously accede to assuming the crown of Blaloc, thereby joining Blaloc to Lyonesse. And neither King Audry of Dahaut nor King Aillas of Troicinet could accuse him of extraordinary conduct.
Days passed, and weeks, with King Casmir playing a most delicate and cautious game. The dissident dukes of Blaloc, while infuriated by the raids from Lyonesse, sensed the dangers of reprisal, and bided their time. At Twissamy, Prince Brezante, recently wed to a young princess from the Kingdom of Bor in South Wales, detached himself from his matrimonial duties long enough to notice that all was not well across the land. Noblemen loyal to King Milo inveighed upon him, until at last he sent off dispatches to King Audry and King Aillas, alerting them to the peculiar rash of forays, raids and provocations current along the Lyonesse border.
King Audry's response was couched in general terms. He suggested that King Milo and Prince Brezante might have misinterp
reted a few untoward but probably insignificant incidents. He counseled Prince Brezante to discretion. "Above all, we must be suspicious of sudden guesses or presumptions- ‘jumps into the dark' is my own style of expressing the case. These sudden acts are often bootless and perfervid. Every falling acorn should not send us forth to complain that the sky is falling. This principle of strong and even statesmanship is my personal preference, and I endorse it to you, in the hope that you may find it equally useful. In any case, be assured of our benevolent good wishes."
King Aillas responded differently. He sailed from Domreis with a flotilla of nine warships on what he announced to be ‘naval maneuvers'. As if on sudden impulse he paid an unscheduled visit to Lyonesse Town aboard the Sangranada, a galleass of three masts.
With the Sangranada standing offshore, Aillas sent a boat into the harbour with a dispatch for King Casmir, requesting permission to enter the harbour. His visit, he stated, since it was fortuitous, would be informal and devoid of ceremony; still he hoped to exchange views with King Casmir on matters of mutual interest.
Permission to enter the harbour was at once forthcoming; the Sangranada eased through the harbour entrance and was warped alongside the dock. The remainder of the flotilla lay offshore, anchoring in the open roadstead. With a small entourage Aillas and Dhrun disembarked from the Sangranada. King Casmir awaited them in his state carriage; the group rode up the Sfer Arct to Castle Haidion.
Along the way Casmir expressed concern for the ships anchored out along the roadstead. "So long as the wind is light and offshore or from the west, there is no danger. But should the wind shift, your ships must instantly put to sea."
"Our stay will be short for that reason," said Aillas. "Still, the weather should hold for a day or two."
"It is a pity you must leave so soon," said Casmir politely. "Perhaps there will be time to arrange a tournament of jousting. You and Prince Dhrun might even care to participate."
"Not I," said Aillas. "The sport consists of taking hard knocks and bruises, then falling from one's horse. I have no taste for it."
"And Dhrun?"
"I am far more apt with the diabolo."
"As you like," said King Casmir. "Our entertainment, then, will be quite informal."
"That suits me very well," said Aillas. As always, when he spoke with King Casmir, he marvelled at his own capacity for dissimulation, since in all the world there was no one he hated more than Casmir. "Still, since the winds have kindly blown us to your shores, we might spend a profitable hour or two discussing the way of the world."
King Casmir assented. "So it shall be."
Aillas and Dhrun were conducted to chambers in the East Tower, where they bathed, changed their garments, then went to dine with the royal family. For the occasion Casmir chose to use the Green Hall, so-called for the panels of green-stained willow and the great rug, gray-green with a scattering of red flowers.
Aillas and Dhrun, arriving in the Green Hall, found the royal family already on hand. No other guests were present; the dinner evidently was to be completely informal. King Casmir stood by the fireplace, cracking walnuts, eating the meats and hurling the shells into the fire. Sollace sat placidly nearby, statuesque as always, her coils of blonde hair confined in a net of pearls. Madouc stood to the side, staring into the fire, her expression remote and her thoughts apparently far away. She had allowed herself to be dressed in a dark blue frock with a white frill at the neck; a white ribbon bound her hair, so that the copper-gold curls lay in ordered locks, framing her face to advantage. Dame Etarre, who supervised Madouc's wardrobe (Madouc would not allow Lady Vosse into her chambers), had reported to Queen Sollace: "For once she has allowed herself to seem something other than a wild thing."
Lady Vosse, who stood nearby, grunted. "Her moods are unfathomable."
"I refuse to speculate," said Queen Sollace with a sniff. "Thank you, Dame Etarre; you may go." Dame Etarre bowed and left the chamber. Queen Sollace went on to say: "What with her highly dubious background-this, of course, we are not allowed to discuss-her volatility should come as no surprise."
"The situation is extraordinary," said Lady Vosse heavily. "Still, the king's orders are clear and it is not for me to doubt their wisdom."
"There is no mystery involved," said Queen Sollace. "We hope to marry her to advantage. Meanwhile, we must bear with her quirks."
Sitting in the Green Hall, Queen Sollace gave Madouc a covert appraisal. She would never be a real beauty, thought Sollace, though admittedly she exerted a certain jaunty appeal. There was simply not enough of her in the places where it mattered, nor was there any promise that such endowments would ever be hers. A pity, thought Sollace comfortably. Ripeness and amplitude were the first and most essential ingredients of true comeliness. Men liked to grasp something substantial when in a mood to do so: this was Queen Sollace's experience.
Upon the arrival of Aillas and Dhrun, the party took their places at the table: King Casmir at one end, King Aillas opposite, Queen Sollace to one side, Dhrun and Madouc to the other. The dinner, as Casmir had promised, was a relatively simple repast: salmon poached in wine, a peasant stew of woodcock, onions and barley; boiled sheep's head with parsley and currants; ducks roasted with a stuffing of olives and turnips; a haunch of venison served with red sauce; a dessert of cheeses, pickled tongue, pears and apples.
Madouc sat pensively, taking only a fragment of fowl, a swallow of wine, and a few grapes from the centerpiece. To Dhrun's attempts at conversation, Madouc responded without spontaneity, so that Dhrun became puzzled-unless, he speculated, this might be her ordinary conduct in the presence of the king and queen.
The meal came to its conclusion. For a period the party sat sipping that sweet soft wine known as Fialorosa, served in the squat traditional goblets of purple glass, twisted and warped into engaging shapes so that no two were alike. At last, King Casmir signalled his intention to retire, the party rose from their chairs, bade each other goodnight and went off to their respective chambers.
In the morning, Aillas and Dhrun breakfasted at leisure in a small sunny morning parlour adjoining their chambers. Presently Sir Mungo the High Seneschal appeared with the message that King Casmir would be pleased to confer with King Aillas at his convenience-immediately, if he felt so inclined. Aillas acquiesced to the proposal and Sir Mungo conducted him to the king's sitting room, where Casmir rose to meet him.
"Will you sit?" asked Casmir. He indicated a chair. Aillas bowed and seated himself; Casmir settled into a similar chair nearby. At Casmir's sign, Sir Mungo retired.
"This is not only a pleasant occasion," said Aillas. "It also allows us an opportunity to exchange views. We are not often in communication."
Casmir assented. "Yes, the world remains in its place. Our deficiency has caused no grand cataclysm."
"Still, the world changes and one year is never like the next. With communication between us, and coordination of our policies, we would, at the very least, avoid the risk of surprising one another."
King Casmir gave an affable wave of the hand. "It is a persuasive idea, if over-elaborate. Life in Lyonesse moves at a hum drum pace."
"Just so. It is amazing how some small or humdrum episode, trivial in itself, can cause an important event."
King Casmir asked cautiously: "Are you referring to any specific event?"
"Nothing in particular. Last month I learned that King Sigismondo the Goth intended to land a war party on the north shore of Wysrod, where he would take up lands and defy King Audry. He was deterred only because his advisers assured him that he would instantly be engaged by the full might of Troicinet, as well as the Daut armies, and would face certain disaster. Sigismondo drew back, and is now considering an expedition against the Kingdom of Kharesm."
Casmir thoughtfully stroked his beard. "I heard nothing of this."
"Odd," said Aillas. "Your agents are notoriously efficient."
"You are not alone in fearing surprises," said Casmir with a sour smile.
&
nbsp; "Extraordinary that you should say so! Last night my mind was active and I lay awake formulating plans by the dozen. One of these I wish to submit to you. In effect, and to use your words, it would remove the component of fear from surprises."
Casmir asked skeptically: "What sort of proposal might this be?"
"I suggest quick consultation in the event of emergency, such as a Gothic incursion, or any other breach of the peace, with an eye to coordinated response."
"Ha hm," said Casmir. "Your scheme might well be cumbersome."
Aillas gave a polite laugh. "I hope that I have not exaggerated the scope of my ideas. They are not much different from the goals which I established last year. The Elder Isles are at peace; we must ensure, you and I, that this peace persists. Last year my envoys offered defensive alliances to every realm of the Elder Isles. Both King Kestrel of Pomperol and King Milo of Blaloc accepted our guarantees; we will therefore defend them against attack. King Milo, so I am told, is ill and also must contend with his disloyal dukes. For this reason the flotilla now at anchor in the roadstead will immediately make sail for Blaloc, in order to indicate our confidence in King Milo, and give pause to his enemies. I will show no mercy to anyone who tries to subvert his rule or its orderly transition. Blaloc must remain independent."
Casmir for a space had no comment to make. Then he said: "Such solitary excursions might be misunderstood."
"I am concerned on just this account. Hence I would be happy to gain your endorsement for the program, in which case there would be no mistakes, and King Milo's enemies would be defeated out of hand."
King Casmir smiled a quizzical smile. "They might argue that their cause is just."
"More likely they hope to curry favor with some speculative new regime, which could only result in trouble. There is no need for any but a legitimate succession to the throne."
"Unfortunately, Prince Brezante is something of a weak reed and is not everywhere popular. Hence the disturbances inside Blaloc."
"Prince Brezante is adequate to the needs of Blaloc, which are not demanding. Naturally we would prefer King Milo's full recovery."
