MADOUC

by Jack Vance

  "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 Casrnir looked at Madouc. "Well, then? What now?"

  "Nothing," said Madouc. "Have I your leave to go?"

  "Go"

  V

  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 Palaernon 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 Urnphred. 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, hmm," 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."

  VI

  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!" 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 ar
e wearing."

  "That is the least of my concerns."

  Hulda sighed. "Ah well, then! How does Your Highness wish to be dressed?"

  Madouc indicated a bolt of cornflower blue and another of nubbled white linen. "Use this and this. And here: what is this?"

  She pulled from the case a somewhat scant bolt of dark red velvet, soft of texture, of color so deep as to verge upon black.

  "That is a hue known as ‘Black Rose'," said Hulda in a dispirited voice. "It is quite unsuitable for a person of your age, and also, it is little more than a scrap."

  Madouc paid no heed. "This is a most beautiful stuff. Also, there seems to be just enough to wrap around my skin."

  Hulda said hurriedly: "There is not enough cloth for a proper girl's gown, with such pleats, flounces, swags and fullness as style and modesty dictate."

  "Then I will have a gown without these decorations, because I am ravished by the color."

  Hulda attempted expostulation, but Madouc would not listen. She pointed out that time was limited and that the gown of Black Rose velvet must be cut and sewed before all else, and so it was, despite Hulda's misgivings. "Truly, the material is scanty! The gown will fit you more explicitly than your age would seem to necessitate."

  "That is as may be," said Madouc. "I believe the costume will have great charm, and for some strange reason the color is in accord with my hair."

  "I must admit that the gown will probably become you," said Hulda grudgingly. "If in a manner somewhat premature."

  CHAPTER TEN

  The sun rose into a dreary sky, with clouds driving in from the Lir portending storms and rain for the journey to Avallon. Ignoring the dismal prospect, King Casmir and Prince Cassander had ridden from Haidion before dawn, that they might visit Fort Mael along the way. At the castle Ronart Cinquelon, near Tat-willow, where Old Street met Icnield Way, they would rejoin the main party and continue the journey north.

  In due course, Queen Sollace, languid and yawning, rose from her bed. She made her breakfast upon porridge and cream, a dozen dates stuffed with soft cheese, and a heartening dish of sweetbreads seethed in milk and cinnamon. During her meal Sir Mungo, the High Seneschal, came to inform her that the royal carriages, escort, equipage, and all else awaited her convenience in the King's Parade.

  Queen Sollace responded with a sad grimace. "Do not remind me, good Sir Mungo! I anticipate only discomfort, bad, smells and monotony; why could not the colloquy be called here at Haidion, if only for my sake?"

  "As to that, Your Majesty, I cannot say."

  "Ah! What is, is! This I have learned with brutal emphasis over the years! So it is now and I must endure the nuisance with all good grace!"

  Sir Mungo bowed. "I will await Your Majesty in the Octagon."

  Sollace was dressed; her hair was coiled and coiffed; her face and hands were refreshed with balm of almonds, and finally she was ready for the journey.

  The carriages waited below the terrace, along the King's Parade. Queen Sollace came from the castle and crossed the terrace, pausing occasionally to address last-minute instructions to Sir Mungo, who responded to each of her requirements with the same urbane equanimity.

  Queen Sollace descended to the Parade and was assisted into the royal carriage. She settled herself into the cushions and a robe of baby-fox fur was tucked across her lap. Madouc then entered the carriage, followed by Lady Tryffyn and Lady Sipple, and last by a certain Damsel Kylas, who had lately been appointed to attend Madouc.

  All was in readiness. Queen Sollace nodded to Sir Mungo, who stood back and signalled the heralds. They blew three ‘Royal Retreat' fanfares, and the cortege moved off across the King's Parade. The procession turned up the Sfer Arct, and the company settled itself for the journey. Madouc sat beside Queen Sollace. Facing her was Damsel Kylas, a maiden sixteen years old, of high principles and dedicated rectitude, though Madouc found her tiresome, lacking both charm and wit. Prompted either by vanity or by exaggerated sensitivity, Kylas suspected that all men, young and old, who passed nearby had come to ogle her and perhaps make improper advances. The conviction caused her to bridle and toss her head, whether the man looked in her direction or not. The habit puzzled Madouc, since her thin shoulders and large hips, saturnine face with its long nose, black protuberant eyes and bundles of wiry black curls hanging to each side, like panniers on a donkey, created no image of memorable beauty. It was Kylas' habit to stare with fixed and unblinking attention at an object of interest. Madouc, sitting opposite, was unable to evade the scrutiny. She thought to fight fire with fire, and for five minutes focused her gaze on the tip of Kylas' nose, without effect. Madouc became bored, and turned away in defeat.

  The procession entered the Arqueers; at the same time the weather which earlier had presaged so poorly, changed; clouds and mist dissolved; the sun shone bright upon the landscape. Queen Sollace said, somewhat complacently: "This morning I prayed that the weather be kind to us, and make our journey safe and pleasant, and so it is."

  Lady Tryffyn, Lady Sipple and Kylas uttered appropriate sounds of wonder and gratification. Queen Sollace arranged a basket of honeyed figs conveniently to hand and spoke to Madouc. "Now, my dear, you may recount all concerning the recovery of the Blessed Grail!"

  Madouc looked around the carriage. Kylas stared with owlish intensity; the two court ladies, ostensibly sympathetic, could not mask their hunger for sensation, ultimately to become the precious stuff of gossip.

  Madouc turned to Queen Sollace: "Such information, Your Highness, is suited for your royal ears alone! There are secrets which should not be heard by the common folk."

  "Bah!" grunted Sollace. "Lady Tryffyn and Lady Sipple are trusted intimates; they can hardly be described as ‘common folk'! Kylas is a baptized Christian; she has interest in naught but the Blessed Grail itself."

  "So it may be," said Madouc. "Still, I am constrained."

  "Nonsense! Proceed with your narrative!"

  "I dare not, Your Highness! If you wish fully to understand my prudence, come with me, you and I together, deep into the Forest of Tantrevalles."

  "Alone? Without an escort? That is insanity." Sollace pulled on the bell cord; the carriage halted and a livened groom jumped down to look through the window. "What are Your Majesty's needs?"

  "These ladies will ride for a space in one of the other carriages. Narcissa, Dansy, Kylas: be good enough to oblige me in this regard. As Madouc indicates, there may be matter here unsuited for general dissemination."

  With poor grace the two ladies and Damsel Kylas moved to another carriage. Madouc quickly took the place vacated by Lady Sipple, across from Queen Sollace, and the procession once more set off up the Sfer Arct.

  "Now then," said Sollace, munching a fig and paying no heed to Madouc's move. "You may proceed. In all candour, I prefer to hear your tale in privacy. Ignore no detail!"

  Madouc saw no reason to conceal any aspect of her adventures. She told the tale to the best of her recollection, and succeeded in arousing the wonderment of Queen Sollace. At the end she eyed Madouc with something like awe. "Amazing! When half of your blood derives from Faerie, do you not feel a longing to rejoin the shee?"

  Madouc shook her head. "Never. If I had remained at the shee, to eat fairy bread and drink fairy wine, then I would grow into something close to a fairy, except that mortality would come upon me more quickly. At this time, almost all fairies have taints of human blood in their veins; so they are known as halflings. In time, so it is said, the race will mingle into the ruck and the fairies will be gone. Among the human men and women, no one will realize that their quirks and oddities come from the fairy trace. As for me, I am largely mortal, and I cannot change. So I will live and die, as will my children, and soon the flow of Faerie will be forgotten."

  "Just so, and to the greater glory of the Faith!" stated Sollace. "Father Umphred tells us that the folk of Forest Trantrevalles are devils and satanic imps, of lesser or greater venality. Along with heretics, pagans, atheists, impenitents a
nd idolaters, all such folk are destined for the lowest pits of Hell!"

  "I suspect that he is wrong," said Madouc.

  "Impossible! He is learned in all phases of theology!"

  "Other doctrines exist, and other learned men."

  "They are all heretical, and all false!" declared Queen Sollace. "Logic compels this conviction! Listen now! Where would be the benefits for True Believers if everyone were to share alike in the glories of the hereafter? That is carrying generosity too far!"

  Madouc was forced to admit the logic of the remark. "Still, I have not studied the subject, and my opinions count for little."

  When at last Queen Sollace had discussed the affair to her satisfaction, she halted the cortege once again, and allowed Kylas and the Ladies Tryffyn and Sipple, all somewhat disgruntled, back into the carriage. Madouc slid over to the side of the seat. Lady Tryffyn and Kylas took their old places and Lady Sipple perforce occupied Madouc's original seat, opposite Kylas, to Madouc's great satisfaction.

  Queen Sollace said: "Princess Madouc was correct in her assumptions. She spoke of certain matters which clearly are best not made public."

  "It must be as Your Majesty asserts," said Lady Tryffyn with a pursed mouth. "It should be noted, however, that I, at least, am notorious for my discretion."

  Lady Sipple said with dignity: "At Deep Daun Keep, where I maintain my household, we are haunted by three ghosts. They come by the dark of the moon to tell their woes. They have entrusted me with highly intimate details, without restraint."

  "So goes the world!" said Queen Sollace heavily. "None of us is wise beyond all others. Even Madouc admits to this."

  Kylas spoke in her quiet, somewhat throaty voice: "I am pleased to discover that the trait of modesty is included among Princess Madouc's many virtues."

  "Wrong, and wrong again," said Madouc in a bored monotone. "I have few virtues, and modesty is not one of them."

  "Ha hah!" said Queen Sollace. "So it must be, since among all others Madouc knows herself best!"