Chapter 4

I

 

 

 

THE STAR REGULUS EASED AWAY FROM THE JETTY and with yards braced hard on the port tack, gathered way and departed Miraldra. King Casmir climbed to the poop deck and went to stand by the taff-rail. He raised his arm high toward the notables on the dock; his expression, placid and benign, indicated only satisfaction with his visit.

The carrack, leaving the harbor, rose and fell to long swells from the west. Casmir descended the companionway and retired to the main saloon. He settled into the great chair and, gazing out the stern casements, mulled over the events of the past few days.

Apparently, and for all to see, the visit had gone exactly to the precepts of courtly etiquette. Still, despite the exchange of public compliments, antipathy hung dark and heavy between the two kings.

The scope of this mutual dislike puzzled King Casmir: where was its source? Casmir’s memory for faces was exact; almost certainly he had known King Aillas in other less amiable circumstances. Long years before, Granice, then King of Troicinet, had visited Haidion at Lyonesse Town. His company had included Aillas, then an obscure little princeling not even reckoned in the line of royal succession. Casmir had barely noticed him. Could this child have created so mordant an impression? Most unlikely; Casmir, a practical man, wasted no emotion on trivial causes.

The mystery weighed on Casmir’s mind, especially since he felt that somewhere a significant portent awaited his knowing. Aillas’ face slipped in and out of mental focus, always pinched into an expression of cold hatred. The background remained indistinct. A dream? A magic spell? Or simple discord between the rulers of competing states?

The problem chafed at Casmir’s nerves until finally he thrust it aside. Still he gained no peace of mind. Everywhere obstacles worked to thwart his ambition . . . Ultimately, so Casmir told himself, these barriers must break apart if only before the sheer brutal force of his will, but meanwhile they carked at his patience and troubled the ease of his existence.

As King Casmir sat drumming his fingers along the arms of the chair and reflecting upon the circumstances of his life, a quandary five years old surfaced into his mind. This was the augury spoken by Persilian the Magic Mirror, on his own initiative: an occasion unique in itself. Persilian, without prompting of any sort, had called out a rasping, chanting fragment of doggerel. Casmir remembered only the gist of the words, something like: “Casmir, Casmir! Your daughter is Suldrun the Fair, and she is fey! Her first-born son before his death shall sit properly at Cairbra an Meadhan, nor shall you sit there nor on Evandig before him!”^*

Casmir had uttered a poignant question: “But shall I sit at these places afterwards?”

Persilian spoke no more. The mirror, with almost palpable malice, reflected only Casmir’s face, distorted and congested with annoyance.

Casmir had pondered the augury at length, especially when Suldrun died after yielding a single child to the royal household: the unpredictable and less than tractable Princess Madouc.

The Star Regulus arrived at Lyonesse Town. King Casmir and the royal family, disembarking, stepped into a white double-sprung carriage drawn by four unicorns with gilded horns. Father Umphred thought to jump nimbly into the carriage, but was deterred by King Casmir’s wordless glare. Smiling a bland smile, Umphred hopped back to the ground.

The carriage rolled up the Sfer Arct to the portals of Haidion, where the palace staff waited in ranks of formal welcome. King Casmir gave them perfunctory nods and, entering the palace, repaired to his chambers and immediately immersed himself in the business of his kingdom.

Two days later Casmir was approached by Doutain, his chief falconer. Doutain tendered a small capsule. “My lord, a pigeon in lading has returned to the west cote.”

King Casmir, instantly interested, said: “Reward the little creature well, with corn and millet!”

Doutain replied: “It has already been done, your Majesty, and done well!”

“Good work, Doutain,” murmured King Casmir, his attention already fixed upon the message. He unfolded the wisp of paper and read:

 

Your Highness:

To my sorrow I have been posted to South Ulfland, to service of a most dreary and objectionable sort. I can no longer maintain communication, certainly not in the immediate future.

 

The message was signed with a code symbol.

“Hmf,” said Casmir, and tossed the message into the fire.

Later in the day Doutain appeared once again. “A pigeon has come down to the east cote, my lord.”

“Thank you, Doutain.”

The message, signed with a different symbol, read:

 

Your Highness:

For reasons beyond understanding I have been despatched to South Ulfland, where my duties are unlikely to accord either with my disposition or my inclination. This must, therefore, for the nonce, be my last communication.

 

“Bah!” said King Casmir, and cast the message into the flames. He threw himself down into his chair, and tugged at his beard. The two messages: coincidence? Unlikely though not impossible. Might Valdez have betrayed the two? But Valdez had been denied knowledge of their names.

Still, it was interesting that Valdez had retired at this particular juncture. If he could be induced to return to Lyonesse, the truth might well be ascertained.

Casmir grunted. Valdez was far too sly a fox to risk such a visit; though the sheer fact of his visit would almost certainly prove his faith.