Lyonesse II - The Green Pear and Madouc

by Jack Vance

I

  WHILE AILLAS with his unsatisfactory slave Tatzel traversed the wilds of North Ulfland, events elsewhere about the Elder Isles were not therefore held in abeyance.

  At Lyonesse Town, Queen Sollace and her spiritual adviser Father Umphred inspected drawings for the prospective cathedral which they hoped might rear a magnificent facade above the end of the Chale and bring an ecstasy of religious awe upon all who saw it.

  Queen Sollace, should the cathedral be built, had been assured of sanctification and eternal bliss by Father Umphred, whose own rewards would be somewhat more modest: the Archbishopric of the Lyonesse Diocese.

  In view of King Casmir’s obdurate resistance, Queen Sollace had become less confident in her hopes. Father Umphred, time and time again, reassured her: “Dear lady, dear lady! Never allow the shades of despair to mar the regal beauty of your cheeks! Discouragement? Expel the word: down, down, down! Into the odious quagmire of guilt, heresy and vice where wallow the benighted folk of this world!”

  Sollace sighed. “Your words are good to hear, but virtue alone, even when joined with a thousand prayers and tears of holy passion, will not melt the soul of Casmir.”

  “Not so, dear lady! I have words to whisper in the ear of King Casmir which might mean two or even four cathedrals! But they must be whispered at the proper moment!”

  Father Umphred’s encouragement was nothing new; he had hinted in this manner on other occasions, and Queen Sollace had learned to control her curiosity with a sniff and a toss of the head.

  As for King Casmir, he wanted no dilution of his authority. His subjects espoused a great variety of beliefs: Zoroastrianism, a whiff or two of Christianity, Pantheism, Draidical doctrine, a few fragments of classic Roman theology, somewhat more of the Gothic system, all on a substratum of ancient animism and Pelasgian Mysteries. Such a melange of religions suited King Casmir well; he wanted nothing to do with an orthodoxy deriving from Rome, and Sollace’s talk of a cathedral had become a vexation.

  At Falu Ffall in Avallon, King Audry sat with his feet in a basin of warm soapy water, in preparation for the royal pedicure, meanwhile listening to despatches from sources near and far, as read by Malrador, the underchamberlain entrusted with this thankless task.

  King Audry was especially distressed by the news from Sir Lavrilan dal Ponzo, who, at King Audry’s orders and using tactics suggested by two of Audry’s intimates, Sir Arthemus and Sir Gligory, had conducted a grand sortie into Wysrod, where he had been repulsed by the Celts.

  Sir Lavrilan earnestly requested reinforcements, and cited the need for light cavalry and archers; the pikemen and young knights recommended by Arthemus and Gligory had fared poorly against the boisterous Celts.

  King Audry sat back into the cushions of his chair, and threw his hands high in disgust. “What went wrong this time? I am baffled by these ineptitudes! No, Malrador, I will hear no more! Already you have soured my day with your croaking; sometimes I suspect that you enjoy making me miserable!”

  “Your Majesty!” cried Malrador. “How can you think that of me? I do my duty, no more! And, respectfully, I urge that you hear this last despatch; it came in only an hour ago from the marches. It seems that notable events are afoot in the Ulflands, regarding which your Majesty must be apprised.”

  King Audry surveyed Malrador through half-closed eyelids, his head thrown back into the cushions. “Often I toy with the notion of requiring you not only to read the despatches, but also to answer them, thus sparing me the vexation.”

  At this humourous sally, Sir Arthemus and Sir Gligory, sitting nearby, gave appreciative chuckles.

  Malrador bowed. “Sire, I would never dare to so presume. This then is the news from Sir Samfire of the marches.” Malrador went on to read the despatch, which told of Troice and Ulfish successes against the Ska. Sir Samfire went on to make recommendations, using language which aroused King Audry to forget the situation and stamp his feet. Two maidens and the barber came running to remove the basin and prop Audry’s feet on a cushioned stool, so that the pedicure might proceed. The barber said politely: “Sire, I suggest that you hold your feet motionless while I am cutting your toenails.”

  Audry muttered: “Yes, yes. … I am astonished by Samfire’s language! Does he think to dictate my strategies?”

  Arthemus and Gligory clicked their tongues and made sounds of perturbation. Malrador incautiously said: “Your Majesty, I believe that Samfire merely attempts to put the significance of the events into clear perspective, for your maximum information.”

  “Ta-ta-ta, Malrador! Now you take his part against me! These are distant events, beyond the marches, and all the while we are mocked by these infuriating Celts! They lack all awe of great Dahaut! Bah! They must be punished. I will drown them in their own blood, since that seems to be their choice. Arthemus? Gligory? Why are we so bedevilled? Answer me that! By boors and lumpkins smelling of cow! What is the explanation?”

  Arthemus and Gligory made indignant gestures and pulled at their mustaches. King Audry turned bitterly back to Malrador. “Well then, you have had your way; now are you done? Always you bring me worries when I am least in the mood to deal with them!”

  “Sire, it is my task to read the dispatches. If I concealed unfavorable news from you, then indeed you would have cause to reprimand me.”

  King Audry heaved a sigh. “That is true enough. Malrador, you are a faithful fellow! Go, and write these words on parchment: ‘Sir Lavrilan dal Ponzo: we extend our best regards! It is time that you wiped the butter from your chin and, perhaps by example, inculcated your troops with a mood of full pugnacity! Only last month you assured me that we would break the heads of a thousand Celtic fools; what fol-de-rol will you tell me next?’ Then affix my seal, subscribe my signature and send off this despatch by fast courier.”

  “Very good, sire. It shall be done, and your reprimand shall be effected.”

  “It is more than a mere reprimand, Malrador! It is an order! I want to see Celtic heads grinning from the ends of our pikes; I want the might of Dahaut to send these buffoons flying and hopping like frightened rabbits!”

  Malrador said gravely: “Sir Arthemus and Sir Gligory command crack brigades; why restrain their fire? They are both spoiling for a good fight!”

  Arthemus and Gligory slapped their hands as if in enthusiasm. “Well said, Malrador! Go now and stir up Sir Lavrilan while we discuss affairs with his Highness!”

  As soon as Malrador had departed, Arthemus and Gligory soothingly explained away the latest debacle in Wysrod, and turned the conversation to more pleasant subjects, and the three immersed themselves in plans for the entertainment of King Adolphe of Aquitaine, and so went affairs in Dahaut.

  In other parts of the Elder Isles, Torqual, by sheer force of will resurrected himself from the edge of death. In her villa on the beach near Ys, Melancthe thought unfathomable thoughts. At Swer Smod and Trilda respectively, Murgen and Shimrod kept to their manses, and occupied themselves with their researches. Tamurello, however, was absent from Faroli, and according to the magician Raught Raven, had taken himself to the peak of a high mountain in Ethiopia, for a period of meditation.

  And the Green Pearl? A pair of young goblins, coming upon Manting’s naked white skeleton, played games with the bones: kicking the skull back and forth, wearing the pelvis as a helmet, and throwing the vertebrae at a party of dryads, who quickly climbed into the trees and taunted the goblins in sweet high voices.

  Forest mold covered the pearl ever deeper. So passed the summer and autumn and winter. With the coming of spring, seeds began to germinate in that area close upon the buried pearl. Young plants sent up shoots, which grew with unusual vigor, sending out a profusion of lush leaves followed by wonderful flowers, each different from the rest and like no other flower ever seen before.

  II

  XOUNGES HAD BEEN A FORTIFIED PLACE since before the beginning of history. The town occupied a flat-topped knob of stone bounded on three sides by cliffs rising a sheer two hundred feet
from the water. On the fourth side a narrow saddle of granite something over a hundred yards long connected the town with the mainland.

  The Ulfland of four centuries ago had been a powerful kingdom, comprising both North and South Ulfland (though not Ys or the Vale of Evander), Godelia and what were now the Marches of Dahaut, out past Poelitetz. At this time King Fidwig, in the full exercise of his megalomaniac might, decreed the total security of Xounges. Ten thousand men toiled twenty years, to achieve a system of fortifications based on walls of granite forty feet wide at the base and a hundred and twenty feet high, closing the causeway at its narrowest width, again where the causeway entered the town, then hooking out into the Skyre to protect the harbor from attack by sea.

  Almost as an afterthought, King Fidwig ordained a palace, and Jehaundel was built to a scale as prodigious as the walls of Xounges.

  Much reduced from its old magnificence, Xounges remained as secure against attack as ever. The aristocracy had maintained tall stone townhouses; and formed the nucleus of the small army which defended the city from the Ska.

  Jehaundel, now the palace of King Gax, showed a massive facade to the market square, but, like the palaces of the lesser nobility, made no pretense of ancient glory. The wings were closed off, as were the upper floors save for the suite used by King Gax: a dreary set-of chambers carpeted with woven rushes and furnished with massive pieces scarred by the hard usage of centuries. Fuel was an item of expense; the bedroom where King Gax lay dying was warmed only minimally by a mean little smolder of turves.

  In his prime Gax had been a man of noteworthy stature and strong physique. For thirty years, while the Ska advanced their black battalions, first into the Foreshore, then across North Ulfland, his rule had gone badly. He had fought hard and suffered wounds, but the Ska were relentless. They destroyed his forces and crushed three proud Daut armies fighting under a treaty of mutual assistance. At last the Ska drove Gax to bay, behind the walls of Xounges. Stalemate came into being. The Ska were powerless to strike at him; and he could exert even less pressure against the Ska.

  From time to time Ska emissaries brought Gax lukewarm offers of amnesty, if he would open the gates of Xounges and abdicate in favor of the Ska designate. Gax rejected all such overtures, in the wistful hope that King Audry might once again honour the ancient pact and send a great army to drive the Ska into the sea.

  In this policy he was generally supported by his subjects, who saw no advantage for themselves under Ska rule. Sir Kreim, next of the royal succession, also endorsed Gax’s intransigence, if for reasons quite at variance with Gax’s own. Sir Kreim was a burly heavy-faced man of middle maturity, with black hair, lowering black brows and a short curling black beard in stark contrast to the pallor of his complexion. His appetites were large; his tastes were coarse; his ambitions were unbridled. When he himself assumed the throne, he hoped to use the office for his best personal advantage, either through alliance with the Ska, or abdication at a price which would afford him a luxurious estate in Dahaut.

  Time passed and King Gax was unconscionably slow about his dying. If rumor were to be believed, Sir Kreim contained his impatience only by dint of great effort and perhaps had even considered methods to hasten the natural processes.

  The chamberlain Rohan, upon learning that Sir Kreim had shown great favor to a pair of the guards outside King Gax’s bedchamber, ordered new dead-bolts affixed to the doors and reassigned the guards to permanent night duty on the outer parapets, where rain and storm were merely signals for augmented vigilance. Rohan also devised a system which guaranteed that King Gax’s food was the most wholesome in all Xounges; each of the kitchen cooks was required to eat of Gax’s food before it was served.

  Sir Kreim, taking note of the precautions, congratulated Rohan for his fidelity and grimly set himself to wait for King Gax to die at his own pace.

  Meanwhile, the stalemate persisted. King Audry not only failed to succor his ally King Gax; the Ska insolently drove into Dahaut and occupied the fort Poelitetz. In outrage King Audry issued a series of ever more emphatic protests, then warnings, then threats. The Ska paid no heed, and King Audry finally turned his attention elsewhere. In due course he would assemble an invincible army, with a hundred carriages of war, a thousand knights in full regalia, and ten thousand valiant men-at-arms. In a magnificent glitter of sharp steel and silver crests, with banderoles streaming overhead, the great army would fall upon the Ska and send them reeling and skreeking into the sea; and Audry sent King Gax a document asserting his firm decision in this regard.

  King Gax seldom stirred from his bed. He could sense the ebbing of his vitality, and sometimes thought to feel the passing of hours and minutes as if they were grains of sand in an hour-glass. His face, once ruddy, was drawn and gray, but his eyes still burned with the smoky yellow gleam of intelligence. He lay motionless, propped up on a pillow, arms arranged on the coverlet, and spent long hours watching the flicker of fire on the hearth.

  Occasionally, under Rohan’s watchful eye, he conferred with his staff and received visitors, including a deputation of high-ranking Ska: the Dukes Luhalcx and Ankhalcx, and an entourage of lesser lords. While they spoke bluntly and to the point, they conducted themselves with all propriety, and King Gax could find no fault with their general behavior.

  During the Ska’s first audience with King Gax, necessarily in his bedroom, Sir Kreim and two others were also in attendance. Duke Luhalcx stated the deputation’s business: “Your Highness, we regret to find you unwell, but all men die, and it appears that your time is close upon you.”

  King Gax managed a weary smile. “While life remains, I live.”

  Duke Luhalcx bowed curtly in acknowledgment. “I intended the comment only as a step-board for the burden of my message, which I now state. The Ska nation rules North Ulfland, and intends to restore the ancient glory. We will expand our power: first to the south, then to the east. The city Xounges is a nuisance to us: a stone in our path. We must guard its approaches lest the Dauts attempt a reinforcement, which would place an enemy force full on our flank and threaten our control of Poelitetz. We want both the city Xounges and the titular rule of North Ulfland, that we may rescind the treaty with Dahaut. With our flank secure, we are free to subjugate South Ulfland, where the new king is becoming obstreperous.”

  “I am not interested in expediting your conquests. To the contrary.”

  “Still, you die, and events will pass you by. There is no royal prince in the statutory line of succession-”

  Here Sir Kreim indignantly thrust himself forward. “Absurd and incorrect! I am in the direct line of succession, and I shall be the next king of North Ulfland!”

  Duke Luhalcx smiled. “We understand your ambitions very well, since you have communicated them to us on several occasions already. We intend to buy neither Xounges nor the title from you.” He turned back to King Gax, who had watched the interchange with a wintry smile. “Your Highness, we request that you immediately anoint our designate as the king of North Ulfland.”

  Sir Kreim cried out: “Your Majesty, the insolence of this proposal is exceeded only by its coldblooded arrogance! We obviously reject it with indignation!”

  Duke Luhalcx paid him no heed. “We will thereupon grant you and all present inhabitants of this place amnesty for acts committed to our detriment and we will confiscate neither wealth nor property. Will you agree to this proposal?”

  “Certainly not!” declared Sir Kreim.

  Gax spoke in irritation: “Sir Kreim, please allow me to formulate my own responses.” He turned back to Duke Luhalcx. “We have survived the displeasure of the Ska for many years. Why should we not continue to do so?”

  “You can assure this policy only while you live. Upon your death, Sir Kreim, should he become king, will attempt to extort treasure from us. Our easiest recourse is to pay, then recover this treasure by a levy upon all the folk of Xounges. I assure you that not one groat of Sir Kreim’s fee will come from our own coffers.”

>   “There would be no negotiations!” snapped Sir Kreim. “On this I am firm! But if there were, you would be forced to stipulate financial as well as physical amnesty for our entire population!”

  King Gax spoke sharply: “Sir Kreim, I have heard enough of your interpolations! You may leave the room at once!”

  Sir Kreim bowed and departed.

  King Gax asked: “Suppose the next king for a fact continued my policies: what then?”

  “I do not care to reveal all the details of our plans. Suffice it to say, we would feel that we must take Xounges by force.”

  “If this is so simple, why have you not done so before?”

  Duke Luhalcx considered a moment, then said: “I will tell you this: we do not regard Xounges as impregnable. If we decide upon siege, then you will know a total blockade and full deprivation. Rain will be your only drink, and grass your only meat. If we were to take Xounges by force, and if a single precious Ska life were lost, every man, woman and child in Xounges would know the shackles of slavery.”

  King Gax made a flickering gesture of frail white fingers. “Go. I will consider my opportunities.”

  Duke Luhalcx bowed and the deputation departed.

  A week later the Ska returned. Sir Kreim was again present, on condition that he maintain full silence, unless his opinions were solicited.

  Duke Luhalcx presented his compliments to King Gax, and asked: “Your Highness, in connection with our proposal, have you reached a decision?’

  Gax gave a hacking cough. “You are right in that my life is leaving me. I must choose my successor and soon, or I shall die with the deed undone.”

  “Whereupon Sir Kreim becomes king?”

  “True. Unless I anoint him, or someone else, such as good Rohan here, before I die.”

  “The Ska preference, even over the excellent Rohan, is the Duke Ankhalcx. His nomination would ensure for Xounges the advantages of which I spoke.”

  “I will keep your recommendation in mind.”