4.

 

 

 

THE CELEBRATION HAD RUN ITS COURSE, and Sarris was once more tranquil. In the estimation of King Casmir, the event had gone moderately well. He had entertained his guests with suitable amplitude which, while falling short of the lavish extravagance favored by King Audry, still would go far to dispel his reputation for parsimony.

Jocundity and good fellowship had ruled the occasion. Save for Cassander’s fall into the river, there had been neither bitter words nor quarrels between old enemies, nor incidents which might have provoked new resentments. Meanwhile, because of Casmir’s insistence upon informality, the questions of precedence which often gave rise to embarrassing disputes were avoided.

A few disappointments marred the general satisfaction. Queen Sollace had urged that Father Umphred be allowed to utter a benediction before the banquet. King Casmir, who detested the priest, would hear none of it, and the queen indulged herself in a fit of pink-nosed sulks. Further, Princess Madouc had not perceptibly helped her prospects: perhaps to the contrary. It had long been planned that Madouc should show herself to be a mild and winsome young maiden who must inevitably develop into a lovely damsel renowned for her charm, decorum and sympathy. Madouc, while reasonably polite or, at worst, apathetic with the older guests, produced a different version of herself for the young grandees who came to study her attributes, and showed herself to be irresponsible, perverse, elusive, sarcastic, wrong-headed, supercilious, sulky and so tart in her comments as to verge upon the insulting. Morleduc’s disposition, already questionable, had not been improved by Madouc’s innocent question as to whether sores covered his entire body. When the vain and arrogant Sir Blaise7 of Benwick in Armorica disposed himself before her, looked her up and down with cool detachment and remarked, “I must say, Princess Madouc, you do not at all resemble the naughty little harridan that your reputation suggests,” Madouc replied in her silkiest voice: “That is good to hear. Nor do you seem a perfumed popinjay, as I have heard you described, since your scent is not one of perfume.” Sir Blaise bowed curtly and departed. And so it went with all the others, excepting only Prince Dhrun, which brought King Casmir no pleasure. A connection in this quarter would advance his policies not at all—unless, of course, Madouc could be persuaded to transmit to him the state secrets of Troicinet. King Casmir gave the idea only cursory consideration.

At the first opportunity Lady Desdea expressed her dissatisfaction to Madouc. “Everyone is most upset with you.”

“What is it this time?” asked Madouc, her blue eyes innocent.

“Come now, young lady!” snapped Lady Desdea. “You ignored our plans and flouted our desires; my careful instruction was no more than the droning of an insect. So then!” Lady Desdea drew herself up to her full height. “I have taken counsel with the queen. She has decided that your conduct calls out for correction, and wishes me to use my best judgment in the matter.”

“You need not exert yourself,” said Madouc. “The celebration is over; the princes have gone home and my reputation is secure.”

“But it is the wrong reputation. In consequence, you shall be set to double lessons for the rest of the summer. Further, you will not be allowed to ride your horse, nor even go near the stables. Is that clear?”

“Oh yes,” said Madouc. “It is very clear.”

“You may resume your needlework at this moment,” said Lady Desdea. “I believe that you will find Devonet and Chlodys in the parlor.”

Rainy weather came to Sarris and lingered for three days. Madouc wistfully occupied herself with the schedule arranged for her by Lady Desdea, which included not only interminable hours of needlework, but also dancing lessons of a particularly tiresome nature. Late in the afternoon of the third day heavy clouds drifted across the sky, bringing a night of rain. In the morning the clouds were gone and the sun rose into a fresh and smiling world, fragrant with the odors of wet foliage.

Lady Desdea went to the small refectory where Madouc was accustomed to take her breakfast, but found only Devonet and Chlodys, neither of whom had seen Madouc. Odd, thought Lady Desdea. Could Princess Madouc have kept to her bed, by reason of illness? Perhaps the princess had gone early to the conservatory for her dancing lesson?

Lady Desdea went to investigate, only to find Master Jocelyn standing idly by the window, while the four musicians, playing lute, pipes, drums and flute, rehearsed tunes from their repertory.

Master Jocelyn, in response to Lady Desdea’s question, merely shrugged. “And if she were here: what then? She cares nothing for what I teach her; she skips and jumps; she hops on one leg like a bird. I ask: ‘Is that how you will dance at the Grand Ball?’ And she replies: ‘I am not a devotee of this foolish strutting and smirking. I doubt if I will be present.’ ”

Lady Desdea muttered under her breath and turned away. She went outside to look up and down the terrace, just in time to discover Madouc perched proudly on the seat of a pony-cart with Tyfer trotting briskly off across the meadow.

Lady Desdea gave a cry of outrage, and sent a footman to ride after the pony-cart and bring the truant princess back to Sarris.

A few minutes later the pony cart returned: Madouc now crestfallen and Tyfer moving at a slow walk.

“Be so good as to dismount,” said Lady Desdea.

Madouc, her face screwed up into a resentful scowl, jumped to the ground.

“Well then, Your Highness? You were expressly forbidden to use your horse or to go near the stables.”

“That wasn’t what you said!” cried Madouc. “You told me that I was not to ride Tyfer, and I am not doing so! I summoned the stableboy Pymfyd and required that he bring up the cart, so I never so much as approached the stables.”

Lady Desdea stared with twitching lips. “Very well! I will rephrase the order. You are forbidden to use your horse, or any other horse, or any other beast, be it cow, goat, sheep, dog, or bullock, or any other means of propulsion, on any sort of vehicle or mode of transportation, including carts, carriages, wagons, boats, sleds, palanquins, and litters. That should define the exact scope of the queen’s command. Secondly, even as you tried to evade the queen’s command, you also became remiss with your lessons. What is your response to this?”

Madouc made a brave gesture. “Today the rain is gone and the world is bright, and I preferred to be out in the air, rather than toiling over Herodotus or Junifer Algo, or practicing calligraphy or pricking my fingers at needlework.”

Lady Desdea turned away. “I will not argue with you the relative merits of learning versus torpid idleness. What must be done, we will do.”

Three days later Lady Desdea, in a troubled spirit, reported to Queen Sollace. “I do my best with Princess Madouc, but I seem to achieve nothing.”

“You must not be discouraged!” said the queen.

A maid brought a silver dish on which were arranged twelve ripe figs. She placed the dish on a tabouret close by the queen’s elbow. “Shall I peel, Your Highness?”

“Please do.”

Lady Desdea’s voice rose in pitch. “Were it not disrespectful, I might declare Her Highness a red-headed little brat who needs nothing more than a good whisking.”

“No doubt she is a trial. But continue as before, and brook no nonsense.” Queen Sollace tasted one of the figs, and rolled up her eyes in pleasure. “Here is perfection!”

“Another matter,” said Lady Desdea. “Something very strange is going on, which I must bring to your attention.”

Queen Sollace sighed and leaned back in the divan. “Cannot I be spared these intricate complexities? Sometimes, my dear Ottile, and despite your good intentions, you become most tiresome.”

Lady Desdea could have wept for sheer frustration. “It is all the more tiresome for me! Indeed, I am baffled! The circumstances transcend anything I have known before!”

Queen Sollace accepted another plump fig from the maid. “How so?”

“I will recite to you the facts exactly as they occurred. Three days ago I had reason to reprimand Her Highness for scamping her work. She seemed unconcerned—pensive rather than remorseful. As I turned away, an extraordinary sensation struck through every fiber of my being! My skin tingled, as if I had been whipped by nettles! Blue lights flashed and flared before my eyes! My teeth set up an uncontrollable rattling that I thought must never cease! I assure you that it was an alarming sensation!”

Queen Sollace, munching at the fig, considered Lady Desdea’s complaint. “Odd. You have never taken such a fit before?”

“Never! But there is more! At the same time I thought to hear a faint sound issuing from Her Highness! A hiss, almost inaudible.”

“It might have been an expression of shock or surprise,” mused Queen Sollace.

“So it might seem. I will cite another incident, which occurred yesterday morning, as Princess Madouc took breakfast with Devonet and Chlodys. There was an exchange of banter and the usual giggling. Then as I watched dumbfounded, Devonet lifted the milk jug, that she might pour milk into her bowl. Instead her hand jerked and she poured the milk across her neck and chest, and all the while her teeth were chattering like castanets. Finally she dropped the jug and rushed from the room. I followed, that I might learn the reason for her strange convulsion. Devonet declared that the Princess Madouc had prompted her to the act by uttering a soft hiss. There was no real provocation, according to Devonet. ‘I only said that while bastards might wet into silver chamber-pots, they still lacked the most precious of all: a fine pedigree!’ I asked: ‘And then what?’ ‘And then I reached for the milk jug; I lifted it and poured milk all over myself, while Madouc sat grinning and making a hissing sound.’ And that is what happened to Devonet.”

Queen Sollace sucked at her fingers, then wiped them on a damask napkin. “It sounds to me like simple carelessness,” said Queen Sollace. “Devonet must learn to grasp the jug more firmly.”

Lady Desdea gave a scornful sniff. “And what of Princess Madouc’s cryptic grin?”

“Perhaps she was amused. Is that not possible?”

“Yes,” said Lady Desdea grimly. “It is possible. But, once again, listen to this! As a penalty, I assigned Her Highness double lessons: in orthography, grammar, needlework and dancing; also special texts in genealogy, astronomy, the geometries of Aristarchus, Candasces and Euclid. I also assigned readings from the works of Matreo, Orgon Photis, Junifer Algo, Panis the Ionian, Dalziel of Avallon, Ovid and one or two others.”

Queen Sollace shook her head in bemusement. “I found Junifer always a bore, nor could I make head nor tail of Euclid.”

“I am sure Your Majesty was more than clever at your lessons; it reveals itself in your conversation.”

Sollace looked off across the room, and did not respond until she had thoroughly masticated another fig. “Well then: what of the reading?”

“I deputed Chlodys to attend Madouc as she read, to make sure that she was supplied the proper texts. This morning Chlodys reached to take a fine volume of Dalziel from the shelf and felt a spasm come over her which caused her to throw the book high into the air and set her teeth to chattering. She came running to me in complaint. I took Princess Madouc for her dancing lesson. The musicians set up a nice tune; Master Jocelyn declared that he would now demonstrate the step he wished the princess to learn. Instead he jumped six feet into the air, with his feet twirling and toes pointed as if he were a dervish. When at last he descended to the floor, Madouc said that it was a step she did not care to try. She asked me if I cared to demonstrate the step, but there was something in her smile which prompted me to refuse. Now, I am at my wit’s end.”

Queen Sollace accepted a fig from the maid. “That will be all; I am almost sated with these wonderful morsels; they are as sweet as honey!” She turned to Lady Desdea. “Proceed as before; I can advise you no better.”

“But you have heard the problems!”

“It might be coincidence, or fancy, or even a bit of hysteria. We cannot let such silly panics affect our policy.”

Lady Desdea cried another protest, but Queen Sollace held up her hand. “No, not another word! I have heard all I care to hear.”

The drowsy days of summer passed: fresh dawns, with dew on the lawns and bird calls floating through the air from far distances; then the bright mornings and golden afternoons, followed by orange, yellow and red sunsets; then the blue-grey dusk and at last the starry nights, with Vega at the zenith, Antares to the south, Altair in the east and Spica declining in the west. Lady Desdea had discovered a convenient way to deal with Madouc since her unproductive and frustrating report to Queen Sollace. She spoke in a grim monotone, assigning the lessons and stating the schedule, then with a scornful sniff and a stiff back she departed and gave no further heed either to Madouc or her achievements. Madouc accepted the system and pursued only the reading which interested her. Lady Desdea, in her turn, discovered that life had become less of a trial. Queen Sollace was content to hear no more of Madouc’s transgressions, and in her conversations with Lady Desdea avoided all reference to Madouc.

After a week of relative placidity, Madouc delicately mentioned Tyfer and his need for exercise. Lady Desdea said crossly: “The proscription derives not from me but from Her Majesty. I can grant no permission. If you ride your horse, you risk the queen’s displeasure. But it is all one to me.”

“Thank you,” said Madouc. “I feared that you might be difficult.”

“Ha hah! Why should I beat my head against a rock?” Lady Desdea started to turn away, then halted. “Tell me: where did you learn that opprobrious little trick?”

“The ‘Sissle-way’? It was taught to me by Shimrod the Magician, that I might defend myself against tyrants.”

“Hmf.” Lady Desdea departed. Madouc at once took herself to the stables, where she ordered Sir Pom-pom to saddle up Tyfer, and prepare for an excursion across the countryside.