by Jack Vance
Madouc stared at him in displeasure. "How so?"
"Because you have insisted upon carrying the funds."
"What of the silver form and the three copper pennies?"
Sir Pom-Pom's face became bleak. "I placed three coins in my pouch, which I tied to the pommel of my saddle. Filemon jumped on Fustis and rode off like a whirlwind, and with him horse, pouch and money."
Madouc, restraining comment, paid the cobbler. "The past is past. Let us be on our way."
The two adventurers departed Biddle Bray by Bidbottle Lane, which led north toward Modoiry, a village on Old Street. After a mile or two Sir Pom-Pom recovered something of his bravado. He began to whistle and presently he said: "You spoke correctly! The past is past; today is today! The road is open; the sun shines bright, and somewhere the Holy Grail awaits my coming!"
"So it may be," said Madouc.
"Footing it is not so bad," Pom-Pom went on. "I see many advantages. Fodder and drench no longer concern us nor the nuisances of tether, bridle, blanket and saddle. We can also put aside all fear of horse thieves."
"Whatever the case, horseback or afoot, it is no great distance to Thripsey Shee," said Madouc.
"Even so, that need not be our first destination," said Sir Pom-Pom. "I am anxious to search for the Holy Grail: first in the crypts on Weamish Isle, where I suspect we will find a secret compartment."
Madouc responded with decision: "First we fare to Thripsey Shee, and there we will take advice from my mother."
Sir Pom-Pom scowled and kicked at a pebble.
"It serves no purpose to pout and sulk," said Madouc. "We shall keep a vigilant watch to right and left as we go."
Sir Pom-Pom turned a sullen side-glance upon Madouc. "Your cap is pulled low and rests on your ears and nose. I wonder how you can see the road in front of your feet, much less the land scape to right and left."
"You watch the landscape and I will guide us to Thripsey Shee," said Madouc. "And now what I see ahead is a blackberry thicket heavy with fruit. It would be a shame to pass by without a taste."
Sir Pom-Pom pointed. "Someone already works at the harvest. He may even be on guard against vagabonds such as our selves."
Madouc scrutinized the person to whom Sir Pom-Pom had referred. "I would take him for a kindly old gentleman out for a stroll, who has paused to pick a few berries into his hat. Still, I will ask as to the berries."
Madouc approached the thicket, where a man of mature years, in costume characteristic of the lesser gentry, paused at his work. Weather and sun had browned his skin and bleached his hair; his features were undistinguished, though even and regular; the gaze of his gray eyes was mild, so that Madouc felt no hesitation in addressing him. "Sir, are these berries under your control, or are they available to others?"
"I must answer both ‘yes' and ‘no'. For berries already picked and in my hat I feel an attachment. Those berries yet on the bush I place under no restriction whatever."
"In that case I will pick a few berries on my account, as will Sir Pom-Pom."
‘Sir Pom-Pom', is it? Since I mingle with the aristocracy, he I must look to my manners."
"I am not truly a knight," said Sir Pom-Pom modestly. "It is only a manner of speaking."
"Here among the bushes it matters little," said the old man. "Knight and commoner alike cry ‘Ay caray!' at the prick of a thorn, and the favor is the same on both tongues. As for me, my name is Travante; my rank or its lack are equally irrelevant." Travante looked down at Madouc, who picked from a branch nearby. "Below that cap I seem to notice red curls, and also some extremely blue eyes."
"My hair is more copper-gold then red."
"So I see, upon closer attention. And what is your name?"
"I am Madouc."
The three picked blackberries, then sat together by the side of the road and ate their harvest. Travante asked: "Since you came from the south, you are faring to the north. Where are you bound?"
"First to Modoiry on Old Street," said Madouc. "Truth to tell, we are vagabonds of a sort, Sir Pom-Pom and I, and each of us has a quest to fulfill."
"I too am a vagabond," said Travante. "I too pursue a quest - one which is futile and forlorn, or so I have been told by those who remain at home. If I may, I will accompany you, at least for a space."
"Do so and welcome," said Madouc. "What is the quest that takes you so far and wide?"
Travante looked off down the road, smiling. "It is an extraordinary quest. I am searching for my lost youth."
"Indeed!" said Madouc. "How did you lose it?" Travante held out his hands in a gesture of puzzlement. "I cannot be sure. I had it one moment and the next time I thought to notice it was gone."
Madouc glanced at Sir Pom-Pom, who was staring dumbfounded at Travante. She said: "I suppose you are sure of your facts."
"Oh indeed! I remember it distinctly! Then it was as if I walked around the table and poof! I found myself an old man."
"There must have been the usual and ordinary intervals in between?"
"Dreams, my dear. Figments, wisps, sometimes a nightmare. But what of you?"
"It is simple. I do not know my father. My mother is a fairy from Thripsey Shee. I am seeking my father and with him my pedigree."
"And Sir Pom-Pom: what does he seek?"
"Sir Pom-Pom seeks the Holy Grail, in accordance with King Casmir's proclamation."
"Ah! He is of religious persuasion?"
"Not so," said Sir Pom-Pom. "If I bring the Holy Grail to Queen Sollace, she will grant me a boon. I might well choose to marry the Princess Madouc, though she is as high-handed and vain as the artful little frippet who sits beside you now."
Travante glanced down at Madouc. "Could she possibly be one and the same individual?"
Sir Pom-Pom put on his most portentous frown. "There are certain facts we do not want generally known. Still, I can say this: you have guessed a good guess."
Madouc told Travante: "Another fact is not generally known, especially to Sir Pom-Pom. He must learn that his dreams of marriage and the boon have nothing to do with me."
Sir Pom-Pom said obstinately: "I can only rely upon the assurances of Queen Sollace in this regard."
"So long as I control the Tinkle-toe Imp-spring, I will have the last word in this matter," said Madouc. She rose to her feet. "It is time we were on our way."
Travante said: "Sir Pom-Pom. I strongly suspect that you will never marry Madouc. I advise you to work toward a more accessible goal."
"I will give the matter thought," growled Sir Pom-Pom. The three set off to the north along Bidbottle Lane. "We make a notable company," declared Travante. "I am as I am! Sir Pom-Pom is strong and brave, while Madouc is clever and resourceful; also, with her copper-gold curls, her wry little face and her eyes of heartbreak blue she is both quaint and vastly appealing."
"She can also be a vixen, when it suits her mood," said Sir Pom-Pom.
III
Bidbottle Lane wound north across the countryside: up hill and down dale, into the shade of the Wanswold Oaks, out across Scrimsour Downs. Overhead floated lazy white clouds; their shadows drifted across the landscape. The sun moved up the sky; as it reached the zenith, the three wayfarers arrived at Modoiry, where Bidbottle Lane met Old Street. Madouc and Sir Pom-Pom would proceed another three miles east to Little Saffield, then fare north beside the River Timble and on to the Forest of Tantrevalles. Travante intended to continue past Little Saffield to the Long Downs, that he might conduct his search among the dolmens of the Stollshot Circus.
As the three approached Little Saffield Madouc found herself increasingly disturbed by the prospect of parting with Travante, whose company she found both reassuring and amusing; further, his presence seemed to discourage Sir Pom-Pom's occasional tendencies toward pomposity. Madouc finally suggested that Travante accompany them, at least as far as Thripsey Shee.
Travante reflected upon the proposal. Then, somewhat dubiously, he said: "I know nothing of halflings; indeed, all my life I have been wary of them. T
oo many tales are told of their caprice and exaggerated conduct."
"In this case there is nothing to fear," said Madouc confidently. "My mother is both gracious and beautiful! She will surely be delighted to see me, and my friends as well, though I admit this is less certain. Still, she might well advise you in regard to your quest."
Sir Pom-Pom asked plaintively: "What of me? I also am engaged upon a quest."
"Patience, Sir Pom-Pom! Your wants are known!"
Travante came to a decision. "Well then, why not? I will welcome any advice, since I have had precious little luck searching on my own."
"Then you will come with us!"
"For just a bit, until you find me a bore."
"I doubt if that will ever occur," said Madouc. "I enjoy your company, and I am sure that Sir Pom-Pom does so as well."
"Really?" Travante looked half-incredulously from one to the other. "I consider myself drab and uninteresting."
"I would never use those words," said Madouc. "I think of you as a dreamer, perhaps a trifle-let us say-impractical, but your ideas are never dull."
"I am pleased to hear you say so. As I mentioned, I have no great opinion of myself."
"Whyever not?"
"For the most ordinary of reasons: I excel in nothing. I am neither a philosopher, nor a geometer, nor yet a poet. Never have I destroyed a horde of savage enemies, nor built a noble monument, nor ventured to the far places of the world. I lack all grandeur."
"You are not alone," said Madouc. "Few can claim such achievements."
"That means naught to me! I am I; I answer to myself, with no heed for others. I am persuaded that a life-span should not be futile and empty! For this reason I seek my lost youth, and with such special zeal."
"And if you were to find it, what would you do?"
"I would alter everything! I would become a person of enterprise; I would consider wasted the day that did not include the contriving of some wonderful plan, or the building of a fine object, or the righting of a wrong! So would pass each day, in marvellous deeds. Then each night I would gather my friends for an occasion which would be remembered forever! That is how life should be lived, to the best effort of one's power! Now that I know the truth, the time is too late-unless I find what I seek."
Madouc turned to Sir Pom-Pom. "Have you been paying heed? These are lessons which you should take to heart, if only so that someday you may avoid Travante's regrets."
"It is a sound philosophy," said Sir Pom-Pom. "I have occasionally thought along similar lines. However, while toiling at the royal stables I could not put such theories into effect. If I find the Holy Grail and earn a boon, I will take pains to live a more glorious life."
The three had now arrived at Little Saffield. The time was halfway through the afternoon: too late to proceed farther. The three repaired to the Black Ox Inn, to find all rooms occupied. They were given a choice of straw pallets in the garret among the rats, or the loft above the bar, where they might sleep in the hay, which option they selected.
In the morning the three set off to the north up Timble Lane. They passed first through the village Tawn Timble, then the hamlet Glymwode, with the Forest of Tantrevalles a brooding dark line close ahead.
In a field they found a peasant digging turnips, who gave directions to Thripsey Shee on Madling Meadow. "It is not so far as the dog runs, but the lane winds and crooks, all the while taking you more deeply into the forest, meanwhile becoming no more than a track. You will come at last to a woodcutter's hut; thereafter the track becomes a trace, but you must proceed farther still, until the forest breaks, and before you will be Madling Meadow."
"That seems simple enough," said Travante.
"So it is, but beware of the fairies of the shee! Above all, do not loiter after dusk or the imps will do you a mischief. They put donkey's ears and a donkey's utensil on poor Fottem, all because he made water on the meadow."
"We will surely be more mannerly," said Madouc.
The three went forward; the forest loomed dark and quiet ahead. The lane, now a track, veered to the east, then turned to plunge into the forest. Branches arched overhead; foliage blocked out the sky; the open country was gone and lost to view.
The track led deep into the forest. The air became cool and carried a hundred herbal scents. In the forest all colors were altered. Greens were various: greens of moss and fern, of wort, mallow, dock and tree-leaves in the sunlight. The browns were heavy and rich: black-brown and umber of the oak tree bole, russet and tan of forest floor. In the coverts, where the trees grew close and the foliage hung heavy, the shadows were deep, and tinged with maroon, indigo, black-green.
The three passed the woodcutter's hut; the track dwindled to a trail, winding between boles, across dim dells, over outcrops of black rock, finally a break in the trees and beyond: Madling Meadow. Madouc halted and told her companions: "You two must wait here for a time, while I go to find my mother. This will cause the least disturbance."
Sir Pom-Pom spoke in dissatisfaction. "That may not be the best idea! I want to put my questions as soon as possible-to strike while the iron is hot, so to speak!"
"That is not the way to deal with fairies," said Madouc. "If you try to guide them, or work them to your will, they only laugh and dodge and curvet off slantwise, and may refuse to speak at all."
"At least I can ask politely if they know anything whatever of the Grail. If not, we are only wasting our time and should hasten on to Weamish Isle."
"Be patient, Sir Pom-Pom! Remember, we are dealing with fairies! You must control your anxieties until I discover how the land lies."
Sir Pom-Pom said stiffly: "I am not a bumpkin, after all; I too know how to deal with fairies."
Madouc became vexed. "Remain here, or go back to Lyonesse Town and ask questions of your own mother!"
Sir Pom-Pom muttered: "I do not dare; she would laugh herself ill for my part in this expedition, then send me out for a bucket of moonbeams." He went to settle himself on a fallen log, where he was joined by Travante. "Be quick, if you please; and if chance allows, ask after the Holy Grail."
"You might also allude to my quest," said Travante, "if a gap opens in the conversation."
"I will do what I can."
Madouc went warily to the edge of the forest, pausing only to remove her cap and fluff out her curls. She halted in the shade of a wide-spreading beech tree, and looked out over the meadow: a roughly circular area three hundred yards in diameter. At the center rose a hummock to which a dwarfed and contorted oak clung with sprawling roots. Madouc scanned the meadow, but saw only flowers nodding in the breeze. Nothing could be heard but a soft murmur which might have been the sound of bees and singing insects; still Madouc knew that she was not alone, especially after a mischievous hand pinched first one cheek of her round little rump, then the other. A voice giggled; another whispered: "Green apples, green apples!"
The first voice whispered: "When will she learn?"
Madouc indignantly called out: "Trouble me not, by fairy law!"
The voices became scornful. "Hoity-toity to boot, apart from all else!" sneered the first.
"She is a hard one to know!" said the other.
Madouc ignored the remarks. She looked up at the sky, and decided that the time was near upon noon. In a soft voice she called: "Twisk! Twisk! Twisk!"
A moment passed. Out on the meadow, as if her eyes had come into focus, Madouc saw a hundred filmy shapes moving about their unfathomable affairs. Above the central hummock a wisp of fog swirled high into the air.
Madouc waited and watched, nerves tingling. Where was Twisk? One of the shapes strolled at a languid pace across the meadow, taking on substance as it came, finally to show the charming lineaments of the fairy Twisk. She wore a knee-length gown of near-impalpable gauze which enhanced the effect of her supple and fascinating contours. Today she had selected pale lavender as a suitable color for her hair; as before it floated in a soft cloud behind her head and around her face. Madouc scanned the face
anxiously, hoping for indications of maternal benevolence. Twisk's expression was impassive.
"Mother!" cried Madouc. "I am happy to see you again!"
Twisk halted and looked Madouc up and down. "Your hair is a jackdaw's nest," said Twisk. "Where is the comb I gave you?"
Madouc said hurriedly: "Some clowns from the fair stole my horse Juno, along with saddle, saddlebag and comb."
"Clowns and entertainers are an untrustworthy lot; this should be your lesson. In any case you must make yourself tidy, especially if you plan to join the merriment at our grand festival! As you can see, the frolics are already underway."
"I know nothing of the festival, Mother dear. I had not planned merriment."
"Oh? It is to be a grand gala! Notice all the pretty arrangements!"
Madouc looked across the meadow and now everything had changed. The swirl of fog above the hummock had become a tall castle of twenty towers with long banderoles streaming from each spire. In front of the castle stanchions of twisted silver and iron were linked by festoons of flowers; they surrounded a long table heaped with delicacies and liquors in tall bottles.
The festival apparently had not yet started, although fairies were already promenading and dancing about the meadow in great high spirits-all save one, who sat perched on a post scratching himself with great industry.
"I seem to have arrived at a happy time," said Madouc. "What is the occasion?"
"We celebrate a notable event," said Twisk. "It is the emancipation of Falael from seven long years of itch; King Throbius so punished him for malice and mischief. The curse will soon have run its course; in the meantime Falael sits yonder on the post, scratching as earnestly as ever. And now, I will bid you farewell once again, and wish you a fortunate future."
"Wait!" cried Madouc. "Are you not pleased to see me, your own dear daughter?"
"Not altogether, if truth be told. Your birth was travail, most unsavory, and your presence reminds me of the entire revolting circumstance."
Madouc pursed her lips. "I will put it out of my mind if you will do the same."
Twisk laughed: a gay tinkle. "Well spoken! My mood is slightly alleviated! Why are you here?"
