Lyonesse II - The Green Pear and Madouc

by Jack Vance

  A voice spoke, thin and clean “Low human fellow, mortal fellow, intrusive fellow: why do you do what you have done?”

  Visbhume looked here and there, feigning bewilderment. He spoke as if apostrophizing the sky: “How oddly the winds rustle the leaves! Almost I thought to hear a voice! Ah, voice of the wind, speak and tell me of your wild roaming! Speak, wind!”

  “Fool! The wind speaks no words!”

  “I heard a voice! Voice, did you speak? If so, be brave! Show yourself, as I cannot compromise myself at random.”

  “Look then, mortal, and see what you see.”

  The mists swirled away from the hummock, revealing the full splendour of the fairy castle. A host of fairies surrounded Visbhume, some sitting, others hiding in the grass. At a distance of twenty feet stood King Throbius and Queen Bossum, in full regalia. Throbius wore a crown worked from sceleone, that fragile metal forged from water-reflected gleams of moonlight. Slender cusps surrounding the crown terminated in pale blue sapphires. The robes of Throbius were blue velvet woven from the bloom of willow catkins; they trailed ten feet behind him and were carried by six roundfaced skew-eyed implings, smirking sidelong with noses wrinkled. Some lagged, others tugged at the robe to bring up the laggards; sometimes they played a sly game of tug-of-war with the train, always with one eye on Throbius, the better to avoid his chastisement should their game be detected.

  Queen Bossum’s robes were a saffron yellow, rich as new butter, and her crown was set with topaz prisms. Her train was carried by girl-imps, whose conduct was primly correct, while they watched the antics of Throbius’ implings sidelong with haughty disapproval.

  Directly in front of King Throbius and Queen Bossum stood Brean the Royal Herald, who spoke again, in a voice now shrill and clear. “Mortal fellow, do you know that you trespass upon Madling Meadow? Behold their Majesties King Throbius and Queen Bossum! Explain to the royal ears and to those of the assembled notables the purpose of your investiture here on this meadow, which we include in our domain!”

  Visbhume performed a bow of six flourishes. “Inform their Majesties of my pride and delight that they have deigned to notice my little concatenation, which in fact is a nexus unto Hai-Hao.”

  The herald spoke the message; King Throbius responded and the herald turned back to Visbhume. “The Magnificences wish to learn your name and your worldly status, that they may justly assess your conduct, and mete out the penalty for your offense, if offense it be.”

  ‘Offense’? Surely here is no guilt whatever!” cried Visbhume in poignant contralto tones. Is this not Stangle15 Meadow, where I may test my wonderful nexus?”

  “Foolish mortal! You have compounded your solecism! Such words are not to be uttered in the presence of the Sempitemals; it is considered in poor taste. Secondly, this is not Stangle Meadow, but rather the halcyon Madling Meadow, and before you is Thripsey Shee.”

  “Ah! It seems that I have blundered, and for this my apologies. I know of Thripsey Shee and its remarkable folk; did they not even provide the royal house of Lyonesse with the Princess Madouc?”

  Brean the herald looked uncertainly toward King Throbius who signaled to Visbhume. “Mortal, come forward. Why have you established your nexus on our meadow?”

  “Sire, I seem to have wandered astray; the nexus was not intended for Madling Meadow, despite its many fascinations. But I wonder of the boy whom you nurtured so wisely five years ago; where is he now? I would speak with him.”

  “What boy is this?” Then, after Queen Bossum whispered in his ear: “He is gone; he is away through the forest. We know nothing of him.”

  “That is a pity; I have long felt curiosity on his account.”

  To the side stood a fairy with a boy’s body and a girl’s face, who scratched himself incessantly: head, belly, leg, buttock, nose, elbow, neck. Looking up from his scratching he took time to call out: “It was that little braggart we called Tippet! Ah, but I punished him properly, with a fine mordet!16”

  King Throbius spoke to the side. “Where is good Skepe of the long arm?”

  “I am here, Sire.”

  “Cut a fine switch and dust Falael’s breeches with three and one-half smart celebrations.”

  Falael instantly set up a howling outcry. “Let fairness prevail! I spoke only truth!”

  “Hereafter, when you speak truth, use less gusto and vainglory. Your mordet caused our humiliation! You must learn tact!”

  “Ah, your Majesty, I have already been taught tact by your august example! Perhaps I already know too much, so that I cloak my awe at your Majesty’s transcendent might with a possibly all too transparent film of bravado! I beg that you re-instruct Skepe from his work!”

  From everywhere around the meadow came a thoughtful and approving murmur, and even King Throbius was affected. “Well spoken, Falael! Skepe, diminish by one full stroke your effort!”

  Falael called out: “That is good news, your Majesty, but still it is only a start! May I continue my remarks?”

  “I have heard enough.”

  “In that case, Sire, I will say no more, especially if you will agree to mitigate my itch.”

  “Impossible. The itch shall proceed, in order to cure that waspish malice which has wearied so many of us.”

  Visbhume called out: “Your Majesty, if you will allow me a word aside with Falael, I believe that I can persuade him to remorse.”

  King Throbius stroked his fine green-gold beard. “That would seem a kindly act, and surely could do no harm.”

  “Thank you, your Majesty.” Visbhume signaled to Falael. “Step over here, if you will.”

  Falael dealt with an itch under his left arm-pit, then followed Visbhume to a place somewhat aside. “Mind you, I will hear no preachments and if you touch me with a Christian cross, I will transform all your teeth into barnacles.”

  Skepe spoke hopefully to King Throbius: “If I find them standing properly side by side, may I come up quietly behind and catch them two at a blow?”

  King Throbius reflected, then signified in the negative. “Your switch is far too short.”

  Visbhume, overhearing the conversation, took pains to stand with Skepe in his range of vision. He spoke in low tones to Falael: “I will intercede for you with King Throbius if you satisfy my curiosity in regard to the boy Tippet, although naturally I cannot promise that he will heed my advice.”

  Falael laughed scornfully. “You will do well to intercede for yourself. I believe that you are to be transformed into a night-crake.”

  “Not so! I am assured of this! Tell me of the boy Tippet.”

  “There is little to tell. He was obnoxious and vain; I was instrumental in expelling him from the shee.”

  “Where then did he go?”

  “Off into the forest, but then there was more. Rhodion, Monarch of All Fairies, with great injustice dissolved my mordet and gave the girl Glyneth the power of speech with animals, while I was rendered only this offensive itch.”

  “Glyneth, you say. And then?”

  “I paid no heed, for my own troubles were on me. If you must know more, go to the girl Glyneth.”

  “And who was the boy’s father, and who the mother?”

  “Woodcutters, peasants, simple human folk. Bother me no more, as I know no more!” Falael made as if to turn away, but was delayed by a severe itching of the groin.

  Visbhume cried out: “But where is the boy now? How is he known?”

  “I care not a whit, and I hope not to see him again, for I should surely do him a mischief and suffer new vexations in consequence. Now then, intercede for me, as you promised. If you fail, I will visit a mordet upon you!”

  “I can only do my best.” Visbhume turned back to face King Throbius, “Your Majesty, I find that Falael is basically congenial. He has been misled by his companions, who have brought him into disgrace. As a disinterested party, before I remove the nexus and causeway from your domain, I wish to urge that your Majesty on this occasion temper justice with mercy.”

>   “It is a large demand which you make of me,” said King Throbius.

  “True, but since Falael feels true remorse, further demonstration of your displeasure must be futile.”

  “A favor for a favor,” said King Throbius. “I agree to forgive Falael and in return you must leave your fascinating nexus here on Madling Meadow.”

  Visbhume bowed. “Your Majesty has spoken; I am in accord.”

  The company of fairies gave a great yelping chortle of delight for the victory astute King Throbius had won over the peculiar mortal; there was capering, somersaults, clicking of the heels in mid-air and small joyous jigs.

  Visbhume bowed low. “Your Majesty, though I have surrendered my valuable nexus, it has been in a good cause and now I crave your leave to depart.”

  “First things first,” said King Throbius. “A single matter hangs in the air. Skepe, administer three and one-half strokes minus one stroke to Falael, as specified.”

  “Your Majesty!” cried Visbhume in shock. “It was precisely this beating which you agreed to spare poor Falael!”

  “Not so! I agreed to forgive Falael, which I have done, fully and freely. The beating will be for other pranks which have gone undetected and which Falael no doubt richly deserves.”

  “Would this guilt not be cancelled by your forgiveness?”

  “Perhaps so, but a weight still hangs in the air. Two and one-half strokes have been ordained; they must be effected. Since you have forfended these strokes from Falael, the logic of circumstances diverts them to your own crawling hide. Dango, Pume, Thwither: down with Visbhume’s breeches; let him hold his backside at the ready. Now then, Skepe: do your duty!”

  “Ai hi yi!” cried Visbhume.

  “One!”

  “Ai-ee ha!”

  “Two!”

  “Oo-oh! Oo-ha! …. Zappir tzug muig lenka! Groagha teka!17 But the half was stronger than the two full strokes together!”

  “Yes, that is sometimes implicit in the nature of things,” King Throbius agreed. “But no matter; you have had your way and Falael has been reprieved, though I am not sure of his remorse. See how he sits yonder on a post, grinning for sheer joy!”

  Visbhume, after regaining his dress, bowed once again. “Your Majesty, I leave you to the enjoyment of your nexus.”

  “You have my leave to go. I must investigate this fascinating nexus.”

  Visbhume set off across the meadow, looking back over his shoulder. King Throbius slowly advanced to stand in front of the nexus, then took a slow step forward, and another… .

  Visbhume turned and looked no more until he reached the forest shade.

  Madling Meadow was as he had first seen it. The hummock supported only a gnarled old oak. Between the birches hung a tangle of blue and red yarn, which jerked and bounced and gathered itself into a sort of cocoon… . Visbhume untied his horse with trembling fingers, mounted and departed at speed.

  V

  ARRIVING IN LYONESSE TOWN, Visbhume went directly to Haidion, and on this occasion it was Sir Mungo, the High Seneschal himself, who took him to the terrace before the royal bedchamber, where King Casmir sat cracking and eating walnuts.

  At King Casmir’s signal, Sir Mungo haughtily arranged a chair for the use of Visbhume, who pulled it up even closer to the table. King Casmir paused in his cracking of walnuts to turn Visbhume a mild blue gaze of mingled distaste and curiosity. “You have just arrived?”

  “I have barely dismounted from my horse, your Majesty! I come in haste to report my findings.”

  King Casmir spoke over his shoulder to the footman: “Serve us tankards of ale; these nuts give me a thirst, and Visbhume will surely wish to wash the dust from his throat.” The footman departed. “Sir Mungo, I will not need you… . Now then, Visbhume, what is your news?”

  Visbhume hitched his chair even closer. “By dint of the most crafty effort I managed to draw information from a class of creature whose most joyous habit is to outwit mortal men! But I dazzled them all and they told me this: the boy whom they called Tippet had been turned out from the shee at some indefinite time in the past, whereupon he seems to have become the companion of a girl named Glyneth, and here is the core of my information.”

  The footman brought tankards foaming with beer along with a plate of biscuits. Without waiting for King Casmir’s invitation, Visbhume seized one of the tankards and drank a deep draught.

  “Most interesting,” said King Casmir.

  Visbhume leaned forward to rest an elbow on the table. “Now then: who is Glyneth? Can it be the Princess Glyneth of Troicinet, who occupies so anomalous a place in the court at Miraldra? Remember that Ehirme, Graithe and Wynes, all in some way associated with the boy Tippet, have removed to Troicinet, where now they prosper. Here is more of the same!”

  “Your deductions would seem sound.” King Casmir drank from his tankard, then brushed walnut shells to the floor, to find room to rest his own elbow. “The boy would now be five years old18. It must be that he too resides in Troicinet. But where? With Ehirme?”

  “There is no such child at Ehirme’s house: I can vouch for this.”

  “What of Graithe and Wynes?”

  “I observed them for several days. They live alone.” Partly to escape Visbhume’s conspiratorial nearness, King Casmir rose to his feet and went to stand by the balustrade, which allowed him a sweeping view over the roofs of Lyonesse Town and their tiles of earthen colours, the harbour and the sweep of the Lir. He looked back toward Visbhume, “There is at least an open avenue of inquiry.”

  Visbhume, coining to stand beside King Casmir, looked dubiously off across the Lir. “You refer to the Princess Glyneth?”

  “Who else? You must return to Troicinet and discover what she knows. She is a maiden of charm and grace, with an amiable disposition and seemingly a confiding nature.”

  “Have no fear on that score! She will answer my questions in full detail! If she attempts reticence, so much the better! I am never averse to persuading young girls and forcing them to obedience. Here is where work becomes pleasure!”

  King Casmir eyed Visbhume coldly sidelong. From time to time he gratified his taste for boys of a certain manner and conformation; otherwise he eschewed the licentious excesses which enlivened King Audry’s court at Avallon. “I trust that in your transports you will not forget the purpose of the inquiry.”

  “Have no fear! Difficulties vanish when I bring my little techniques to bear. Where would Glyneth now be found?”

  “At Miraldra, so I suppose, or else at Watershade.”

  VI

  VISBHUME TOOK LODGING ONCE AGAIN at the Four Mallows. He dined early, then went out upon the square, to sit on the same bench as before. But on this evening no burly Moor approached him, nor Tamurello in any of his other guises.

  Visbhume watched the sun setting into the Lir. A breeze from the west had blown up trains of steep waves, each with a crest of white foam, and Visbhume turned away with a shudder. Were Tamurello truly a good and faithful comrade, he would have provided Visbhume means of quick transit from place to place, so that Visbhume might travel without suffering the heaving, sliding, toppling, wallowing motion of a ship, nor yet the staid gait of a sway-backed white mare.

  Visbhume reflected upon the cache of magical apparatus which he had stored in Dahaut. Some of the simpler items functioned in a manner which he understood. Others, like Twitten’s Almanac, might well respond to his closer investigation. The use of other objects and adjuncts remained beyond his present capabilities. Still, who could say? Among these items might be an effectuant to provide Visbhume the swift and easy transit for which he yearned so deeply,

  Visbhume came to a firm decision. In the morning, instead of taking ship for Troicinet, as King Casmir might well have preferred, he rode up the Sfer Arct to the north, then off at a slant to Old Street, then east to Icnield Way, north through Pomperol into Dahaut. Arriving at the village Glimwillow, he went to a secret place and retrieved the large brass-bound chest containing the goo
ds which he had taken away from Maule.

  Visbhume lodged himself in a private chamber at the Sign of the Mandrake, and for three days worked among the contents of the chest. When at last he returned south along Icnield Way, he carried a yellow leather wallet containing a variety of those articles he deemed most accessible to his use, and a few others of fascinating potentiality, like Twitten’s Almanac. He found no obvious device or methed by which he might be conveyed at speed directly to Troicinet, or elsewhere, and so rode the stately white mare as before. At Slute Skeme he sold the white mare and with many misgivings took passage aboard a lumbering cargo vessel bound for Domreis.

  Three days of cautious inquiry at last yielded information that, in the absence of Prince Dhrun-now making a ceremonial visit to Dascinet-the Princess Glyneth had taken herself off to Watershade.

  In the morning Visbhume set off along the coast road. A storm of roaring winds and driving rain persuaded him to break his journey at the town Hag’s Head, under Cape Haze, where he took lodging at the Three Lampreys. To pass the time he composed himself to a study of Twitten’s Almanac, and became so enthralled by the vistas of opportunity suddenly displayed before his imagination that he extended his visit another day, and yet another, and another, even though the weather had once again become fine.

  Meanwhile, the Three Lampreys was comfortable and convenient; Visbhume ate well, drank well, and sat long hours in the sunshine, pondering Twitten’s wonderful calculations and the no less remarkable conversion of theory into fact. Visbhume called for ink, quill and parchment, and attempted calculations of his own, to the wondering curiosity of others at the inn, who at last decided him to be an astrologer calculating the moods, surges and retrogressions of the several planets: a conjecture which pleased Visbhume and which he took no pains to disabuse.