2.

 

 

 

THE MONTHS OF THE YEAR WENT THEIR WAY AND WINTER BECAME SPRING. The period was enlivened by a variety of events. Prince Cassander became involved in an untidy scandal and was sent off to Fort Mael, close under the Blaloc border, to cool his heels and to reflect upon his misdeeds.

From South Ulfland came news of Torqual. He had led out his band on a foray against the isolated and apparently undefended Framm Keep, only to encounter an ambush laid by troops of the Ulfish army. In the skirmish Torqual lost the greater part of his band and was lucky to have escaped with his life.

Another event, of moment to Madouc herself, was the betrothal of her agreeable and apparently casual preceptress Lady Lavelle. Preparations for the wedding to Sir Garstang of Twanbow Hall necessitated her departure from Haidion and return to Pridart Place.

Madouc’s new preceptress was Lady Vosse, spinster daughter to Casmir’s second cousin Lord Vix of Wildmay Fourtower, near Slute Skeme. Unkind rumor suggested that Lady Vosse had been fathered by a vagabond Goth during one of Lord Vix’s absences from Wildmay Fourtower; whatever the truth of the case, Lady Vosse in no way resembled her three younger sisters, who were slender, dark of hair, gentle of disposition and sufficiently well-favored to attract husbands for themselves. Lady Vosse, in contrast, was tall, iron-gray of hair, heavy of bone, with a square granitic face, grey eyes staring from under iron-gray eyebrows and a disposition deficient in those easy casual qualities which had commended Lady Lavelle to Madouc.

Three days after the departure of Lady Lavelle, Queen Sollace summoned Madouc to her chambers. “Step forward, Madouc! This is Lady Vosse, who is to assume the duties which I fear were somewhat scamped by Lady Lavelle. Your instruction will henceforth be supervised by Lady Vosse.”

Madouc glanced sidelong at Lady Vosse. “Please, Your Majesty, I feel that such supervision is no longer needed.”

“I would be happy if it were so. In any case Lady Vosse will ensure that you are proficient in the proper categories. Like myself, she will be satisfied only with excellence, and you must dedicate all your energies to this end!”

Lady Vosse said: “Lady Lavelle, so I am told, was lax in her standards, and failed to drive home the exactitude of each lesson. The victim of such laxity, sadly enough, is Princess Madouc, who fell into the habit of frittering away her time.”

Queen Sollace said: “I am pleased to hear these words of dedication! Madouc has never taken kindly to precision, or discipline. I am sure, Lady Vosse, that you will remedy this lack.”

“I will do my best.” Lady Vosse turned to Madouc. “Princess, I demand no miracles! You need only do your best!”

“Just so,” said Queen Sollace. “Madouc, do you understand this new principle?”

Madouc said bravely: “Let me ask this. Am I the royal princess?”

“Well, yes, of course.”

“In that case, Lady Vosse must obey my royal commands and teach me what I wish to learn.”

“Ha hah!” said Queen Sollace. “Your arguments are valid to a certain point, but you are still too inexperienced to know what is best for you. Lady Vosse is most wise in this regard, and will direct your education.”

“But Your Highness, if you please! This might be the wrong education! Must I learn to be like Lady Vosse!”

Lady Vosse spoke in a measured voice: “You will learn what I choose to teach! You will learn it well! And you will be the better for it!”

Queen Sollace waved her hand. “That is all, Madouc. You may go. There is no more to be said on the subject.”

Almost at once Madouc’s conduct gave Lady Vosse cause for complaint. “I intend to waste neither time nor soft words with you. Let us have an understanding: either obey my instructions exactly and without quibble, or I shall go on the instant to Queen Sollace and ask her permission to beat you properly.”

“That would be incorrect conduct,” Madouc pointed out.

“It would happen in private and no one would know, save you and me. Further, no one would care—save you and me. I advise you: beware! The privilege may well be allowed to me, and I would welcome it, since your contumacity is as offensive as your smirking insolence!”

Madouc spoke primly: “These remarks are outrageous, and I forbid you to enter my presence again until you apologize! Also, I demand that you bathe more often, since you smell of goat, or something similar. You are dismissed for the day.”

Lady Vosse stared at Madouc with a slack jaw. She turned on her heel and departed the room. An hour later Madouc was summoned to the chambers of Queen Sollace, where she went slack-footed and heavy with foreboding. She found Queen Sollace sitting in an upholstered chair while Ermelgart brushed her hair. To one side stood Father Umphred, reading from a book of psalms. To the other side, silent and still on a bench, sat Lady Vosse.

Queen Sollace spoke in a peevish voice: “Madouc, I am displeased with you. Lady Vosse has described your insolence and your insubordination. Both would seem to be studied and deliberate! What have you to say for yourself?”

“Lady Vosse is not a nice person.”

Queen Sollace gave an incredulous laugh. “Even were your opinion correct, what is the consequence, so long as she does her duty?”

Madouc essayed a cheerful rejoinder. “It is she who is guilty of insolence to me, a royal princess! She must apologize at this moment, or I will order her treated to a good whisking. Father Umphred may wield the whisk, for all of me, so long as he strikes strong, often and true to the mark.”

“Tchah!” cried Lady Vosse in shock. “What nonsense the child does prattle! Is she mad?”

Father Umphred could not restrain a fruity chuckle. Lady Vosse turned him an icy gray glance, and Father Umphred abruptly fell silent.

Queen Sollace spoke sternly: “Madouc, your wild talk has amazed us all! Remember! Lady Vosse acts in my stead; when you disobey her, you disobey me! Apparently you will not allow your hair to be properly coiffed nor will you abandon those rude garments which you are wearing at this instant. Faugh! They are suitable for a peasant boy, but not a dainty royal princess!”

“Agreed!” said Lady Vosse. “She is no longer a young child, but a budding maiden, and now must observe the proprieties.”

Madouc blew out her cheeks. “I do not like my hair pulled up so high that my eyes bulge. As for my clothes, I wear what is sensible! Why wear a fine gown to the stables only to drag the hem in manure?”

Queen Sollace spoke sharply: “In that case, you must avoid the stables! Do you see me roistering about among the horses, or Lady Vosse sitting familiarly by the dungheap? Of course not! We observe the gentilities of rank and place! As for your hair, Lady Vosse correctly wants to coif it in a fashionable style, and teach you courtly demeanour, so that the young gallants will not think you a freak when they meet you at a ball or a charade.”

“They will not think me a freak, because I will not be present, either at ball or charade.”

Queen Sollace stared fixedly at Madouc. “You will be on hand if you are so instructed. Soon there will be serious talk of betrothal, and you must appear to advantage. Always remember: you are Princess Madouc of Lyonesse and so you must seem.”

“Precisely so!” said Madouc. “I am Princess Madouc, of high rank and authority! I have ordered a whisking for Lady Vosse. Let us see to it at this very moment!”

“Yes,” said Queen Sollace grimly. “I shall see to it. Ermelgart, from the besom pluck me five long withes; let them be both stout and supple.”

Ermelgart hastened to obey.

“Yes, these will do nicely,” said Queen Sollace. “Now then, let us proceed to the whisking! Madouc! Come hither!”

“What for?”

Queen Sollace swished the whisk back and forth. “I am not keen for this sort of thing; it sets me in a sweat. Still, a task worth doing is worth doing well. Come hither, and remove your lower garments.”

Madouc spoke in quavering tones: “I would feel foolish doing as you suggest. It is far more sensible to stand as far as possible from you and your whisk.”

“Do you defy me?” bellowed Queen Sollace. She heaved herself to her feet. “I shall put this whisk to good use!” Throwing back her robe with a sweep of her heavy white arm, Sollace marched forward. Father Umphred, book of psalms dangling from his fingers, stood beaming; Lady Vosse sat straight and stern. Madouc looked right and left in despair. Once again injustice seemed ascendant, with everyone eager to crush her pride!

Madouc licked her lips, worked her fingers and uttered a soft hiss. Queen Sollace stood limp-kneed and quivering, mouth agape, arms shaking, fingers twitching so that the whisk dropped away, while her teeth chattered like pebbles shaken in a box. Father Umphred, still wearing his benign smile, uttered a gurgling squeak, then, chattering like an angry squirrel, he hunched low, stamping and kicking as if performing a Celtic jig. Ermelgart and Lady Vosse, both off to the side, were jarred and shaken, but evinced only a desultory chattering and grinding of the teeth.

Madouc placidly turned and started from the room, only to encounter the bulk of King Casmir. He halted in the doorway. “What is amiss? Why is everyone so wild and so strange?”

Father Umphred spoke plaintively: “Sire, Princess Madouc has learned witch-tricks; she knows a sleight to set us into a fit of confusion, so that our teeth rattle and our brains reel like spinning hoops.”

Queen Sollace spoke in a plangent croak: “Father Umphred states the truth! Madouc hisses, or sings a whistling song—I was too unnerved to notice—and instantly our bones turned to jelly, and all our teeth rang and clattered and resounded again and again!”

King Casmir looked down at Madouc. “What is the truth of this?”

Madouc said pensively: “I believe that Queen Sollace took bad advice and started to beat me, then was deterred by her own true kindness. It was Lady Vosse for whom I ordered the whisking; I hope that you will see to it now.”

“A farrago of nonsense!” blurted Lady Vosse. “This mad little imp hissed and we were all forced to chatter and jump!”

“Well then, Madouc?” demanded King Casmir.

“It is nothing of consequence.” Madouc tried to edge around Casmir’s bulk, so that she might gain to the door. “Sire, excuse me, if you please.”

“I do not so please! Certainly not until matters are clarified for my understanding! What is this ‘hissing’ that you do?”

“It is a small knack, Your Highness: no more.”

“ ‘A small knack’ then,” cried Queen Sollace. “My teeth still wamble and pulse! If you recall, Lady Desdea complained of similar events at Sarris!”

Casmir frowned down at Madouc. “Where did you learn this trick?”

Madouc said bravely: “Sire, best for everyone’s comfort if we regard the matter as my personal secret.”

Casmir looked down in astonishment. “Impudence again? Condescension from a foxen fluff of a girl! Ermelgart, bring me the whisk.”

Madouc tried to dodge and dart through the doorway, but King Casmir seized her and bent her over his leg. When she tried to hiss, he clapped his hand to her mouth, then thrust a kerchief between her teeth. Taking the whisk from Ermelgart, he struck six majestic strokes, so that the withes whistled through the air.

King Casmir released his grip. Madouc slowly righted herself, tears of humiliation and rage coursing down her cheeks. King Casmir asked in a heavily sardonic voice: “And what do you think of that, Miss Sly-Boots?”

Madouc stood holding both hands to her smarting haunches. “I think that I will ask my mother for some new tricks.”

Casmir opened his mouth, then suddenly became still. After a tense moment he said: “Your mother is dead.”

Madouc in her fury thought only to detach herself in utter totality from both Casmir and Sollace. “My mother was not Suldrun, and you know this full well.”

“What are you saying?” roared Casmir, standing back. “Is this more impudence?”

Madouc sniffed and decided to say no more.

Casmir blustered on: “If I say your mother is dead, she is dead! Do you want another beating?”

“My mother is the fairy Twisk,” said Madouc. “Beat me as you like; it changes nothing. As for my father, he remains a mystery, and I still lack a pedigree.”

“Hm hah,” said Casmir, thinking over this and that. “Quite so. A pedigree is something everyone should have.”

“I am happy that you agree, since one of these days I intend to search out my own.”

“Unnecessary!” declared Casmir bluffly. “You are Princess Madouc and your pedigree or its lack need never be called into question.”

“A fine long pedigree is better than its lack.”

“Just so.” Casmir looked around the chamber, to find all eyes fixed upon him. He signaled to Madouc. “Come.”

King Casmir led the way to his private sitting room. He pointed to a sofa. “Be seated.”

Madouc perched herself gingerly upon the cushions, to the best possible easement of her pain, watching King Casmir warily all the while.

King Casmir paced up the length of the room, then back. Madouc’s parentage was irrelevant; so long as no one knew the facts. Princess Madouc could be used to cement a valuable alliance. Madouc the changeling waif lacked all value in this regard. Casmir stopped short in his tracks. “You suspect, then, that Suldrun was not your mother?”

“My mother is Twisk. She is alive and she is a fairy.”

“I will be frank,” said Casmir. “Indeed we knew you for a changeling, but you were so bonny a baby that we could not put you aside. We took you to our hearts as ‘Princess Madouc’. That is how it is today. You enjoy all the privileges of true royalty, and of course the obligations, as well.” Casmir’s voice changed a degree or two in timbre, and he watched Madouc covertly. “Unless, of course, Suldrun’s true-born son came forward to claim his birthright. What do you know of him?”

Madouc wriggled to lessen the throbbing of her scantily padded buttocks. “I asked about my pedigree, but to no avail.”

“You did not learn the fate of your counterpart—the changeling who would be Suldrun’s son, and just your own age?”

With great effort Madouc quelled a gleeful laugh. A year in the fairy shee meant time far longer in the outside world—perhaps seven years, or eight, or nine; no exact correspondence could be made. Casmir had no inkling of the case. “He is nothing to me,” said Madouc. “Perhaps he still haunts the shee. He may well be dead; the Forest of Tantrevalles is a perilous place.”

King Casmir asked sharply: “Why are you smiling?”

“It is a wince of pain,” said Madouc. “Do you not remember? You struck me six vicious blows. I remember well.”

With narrowed eyes King Casmir asked: “And what do you mean by that?”

Madouc looked up, blue eyes innocent. “I use no special meaning other than the words themselves. Is that not the way you talk?”

King Casmir frowned. “Now then! Let us not maunder and gloom over past grievances! Many happy times lie ahead. To be a princess of Lyonesse is an excellent thing!”

“I hope that you will explain this to Lady Vosse, so that she will obey my orders or, better, return to Wildmay Fourtower.”

King Casmir cleared his throat. “As to that, who knows? Queen Sollace perhaps has a preference. Aha, then, harrumph. Naturally we cannot flaunt our secrets far and wide, for the vulgar interest. Away would fly your chances for a grand marriage! Therefore, we will bury these facts deep in obscurity. I will speak to Ermelgart, the priest and Lady Vosse; they will not gossip. And as always, you are the charming Princess Madouc, full and whole, whom we all love so well.”

“I feel sick,” said Madouc. “I think I will go now.” She rose to her feet and went to the door. Here she paused to look back over her shoulder, to find King Casmir watching her with a brooding expression, legs apart, arms behind his heavy torso.

Madouc said softly: “Please do not forget; I want no more of Lady Vosse; she has proved herself a disgrace and a failure.”

King Casmir only grunted: a sound signifying almost anything. Madouc turned and left the room.