Lyonesse II - The Green Pear and Madouc (95 page)

"Your arguments are wise," said Madouc. "They fall short only because the money is mine."

Sir Pom-Pom angrily passed over a goodly handful of coins, both silver and copper. "Take the money, then!"

Something in Sir Pom-Pom's manner aroused Madouc's suspicions. She held out her hand. "Give me the remainder."

Sir Pom-Pom grudgingly handed over further coins. "Now then!" said Madouc. "Is that all?"

Sir Pom-Pom sourly showed her a silver form and a few coppers. "I retain only my reserve. This money at least will be safe."

"And that is all?"

"That is all, and be damned to it."

"You will not need that fancy dagger. In the first place, it is far too dear."

"Not when purchased with your money."

Madouc ignored the remark. "Come! Let us be away!"

"I am hungry," grumbled Sir Pom-Pom. "We could make our lunch on one of those pork pies. Also I want to watch the clowns. Look at them now! They throw Mikelaus high in the air and let him drop. No! At the last instant the man catches him in the net! It is most comical!"

"Come, Sir Pom-Pom. You shall have your pork pie and then we will be on our way. Juno's only gait is a slow amble; we must ride long to ride far."

Sir Pom-Pom jerked peevishly at the bill of his new cap. "The day is growing late! We should bide here overnight at one of the inns. Then we can enjoy the fair at our leisure."

"The inns are surely full; we will go on."

"That is folly! The next town is ten miles distant; we will never arrive before nightfall, and once again the inns may be full."

"In that case, we shall sleep in the open, like true vagabonds."

Sir Pom-Pom had nothing more to say; the two departed Abatty Dell and proceeded on their way. As the sun dropped low in the west, they turned aside from the lane and rode a quarter-mile across a meadow to a little spinney beside a stream. Here Sir Pom-Pom struck up a fire and tethered out the horses, while Madouc toasted bacon, which they ate for their supper along with bread and cheese.

Madouc had removed her hat. Sir Pom-Pom studied her in the firelight. "Somehow you look different! Now I see! You have cut your hair short."

"How else would it fit under the cap?"

"You look more halfling now than ever."

Madouc sat hugging her knees and looking into the fire. Somewhat wistfully she said: "It is only appearance. With each passing day my human blood sings a louder song. That is always the way when one like myself leaves the shee and lives among men."

"And if you had remained at the shee: what then?"

Madouc hugged her knees even more closely. "I do not know what would have become of me. The fairies might have played tricks on me and shunned me because of my mixed blood."

"Still, mortals die, and fairies dance and play forever."

"Not so," said Madouc. "Fairies also die. Sometimes they sing sad songs by moonlight and pine away for sheer sorrow! Sometimes they drown themselves for love. Sometimes they are killed by raging bumblebees or kidnapped and murdered by trolls who grind fairy-bones into a condiment to season their sauces and ragouts."

Sir Pom-Pom yawned and stretched his legs toward the fire. "It is not the life for me, after all."

"Nor for me," said Madouc. "Already I am far too human!" In the morning the sun rose bright into a cloudless sky, and the day became warm. Halfway through the morning they came to a river, and Madouc could not resist the temptation to bathe. She left Sir Pom-Pom with the horses and scrambled down through the alders to the water's edge. Here she removed her clothes and plunged into the water, to dive and splash and enjoy the refreshing coolness. Chancing to look up the bank, she discovered Sir Pom-Pom peering down at her, his face framed by the foliage.

In a cross voice Madouc called out: "What are you gaping at, Sir Pom-Pom? Have you never seen a naked girl before?"

"Never a naked princess," said Sir Pom-Pom with a grin.

"That is sheer nonsense," said Madouc in disgust. "We are much alike, all of us. There is truly nothing noteworthy to see."

"Still, I prefer it to looking at the back end of Juno."

"Stare as you like," said Madouc. "I cannot be bothered with your foolishness."

"It is not total foolishness, as you put it," said Sir Pom-Pom. "I have a sound and practical reason for making a close inspection."

"What is that?"

"Should I return with the Holy Grail, my boon might entitle me to wed the royal princess. Therefore I thought it sensible to discover just what advantages such a choice might entail. For a fact, I see nothing which arouses any great enthusiasm."

Madouc struggled for words. At last she said: "Since you seem to be idle, I suggest that you strike up a fire and boil us a soup for our noon meal."

Sir Pom-Pom drew his face back through the foliage. Madouc stepped from the water, dressed and returned to the road. As the two sat in the shade of a great elm tree, eating their soup, they observed the approach of three persons on foot: a short plump man, a woman of similar proportions and an urchin, undersized, pasty-gray of skin, seemingly all legs and head. As they drew close, Madouc recognized the three clowns who had performed at the Abatty Dell fair.

The three approached and halted. "A very good day to you both," said the man, who had a round face, coarse black hair, a little bulb of a nose and bright protuberant black eyes.

"I echo this sentiment," declared the woman, who like the man showed a round flexible face, black hair, round black eyes and a pink stub of a nose.

"Good day to you as well," said Madouc.

The man glanced into the pot where simmered the soup. "May we sit here in the shade and take a brief respite from our trudging?"

"The shade is free," said Sir Pom-Pom. "Rest where you like."

"Your words falls kindly on the ear!" said the woman gratefully. "The way is long and I go with difficulty, and sometimes pain, by reason of my ailment."

The three settled cross-legged in the shade. "Allow me to make introductions," said the man. "I am Filemon, Master of Mirth. Here sits Dame Corcas, no less skilled in merry antics. And here, small but doughty, is our little Mikelaus. He is not altogether cheerful, and perhaps somewhat ill, since he has had no breakfast today. Am I right, poor Mikelaus, sad little tyke that you are?"

"Arum. Boskatch. Gaspa confaga."

Sir Pom-Pom blinked. "What did he say?"

Filemon chuckled. "Mikelaus has an odd way of speaking, which is not clear to everyone."

Dame Corcas explained, with delicate precision: "He inquired, quite clearly: 'What is cooking in the pot?'

"It is our meal," said Sir Pom-Pom. "I have boiled up a soup of ham, onions and beans."

Mikelaus spoke again: "Vogenard. Fistilla."

Filemon said reprovingly: "Impossible, Mikelaus! It is not our food, no matter how much you crave sustenance."

Dame Corcas said: "Perhaps these kind folk might spare him just a taste, to keep the spirit of life awake in his poor little soul."

Madouc said: "I suppose that is possible. Sir Pom-Pom, serve a portion of soup to the creature."

Sir Pom-Pom glumly did as bidden. Dame Corcas reached to take the bowl. "I must make sure that it is not too hot; other wise Mikelaus will burn himself." She spooned up a portion of the soup, along with a goodly chunk of ham and tested it. "It is still far too hot for Mikelaus!"

Filemon scoffed at her caution. "Probably not! Mikelaus has the gut of a salamander! Let me verify the temperature." He took the bowl and raised it to his lips. "That is excellent soup, but you are right; it is far too hot for Mikelaus."

"There is little left in the bowl," said Sir Pom-Pom.

Mikelaus said: "Gamkarch noop. Bosumelists."

"You must not be greedy!" admonished Dame Corcas. "This young gentleman will surely make up more soup if there is not enough."

Madouc, seeing the way the wind blew, heaved a sigh. "Very well, Sir Pom-Pom. Serve around the soup. I cannot eat with these hungry creatures watching my every mouthful."

Sir Pom-Pom growled: "I made only enough for our needs."

"No problem whatever!" declared Filemon with enthusiasm. "When good comrades meet along the road, they share each with each, and all rejoice in mutual amplitude! I notice yonder a fine butt of ham, onions, bread, cheese, and unless my eyes deceive me, a bottle of wine! We shall have a true banquet, here along the road, to which each shall give of his best! Corcas, you must make yourself useful! Assist this young gentleman with the fine boots!"

Dame Corcas sprang to her feet, and so swiftly that Sir Pom Pom could hardly follow the movement of her hands, she had thrown great chunks of ham into the pot, along with half a dozen onions, and three handfuls of oaten flour. While Sir Pom-Pom and Madouc watched in bemusement, Filemon had brought out the bottle of wine, and had tasted its contents.

Mikelaus said: "Arum. Cangel."

"Why not?" said Filemon. "You are poor, miserable, and misshapen, and only two feet tall; still, why should you not enjoy a sip of wine from time to time, along with the rest of your merry comrades?" He passed the bottle to Mikelaus, who tilted it high into the air.

"Enough!" cried Dame Corcas. "While I stand here stirring the pot, and smoke finding the sure way to my eyes, you two consume all the wine! Put the bottle aside! Entertain these two fine folk with your jolly antics."

"Just one more swallow," begged Filemon. "It will lubricate my lips for the fife."

He drank more wine, then brought a fife from his pocket. "Now then, Mikelaus! You must earn your soup! Show us your best hornpipe!"

Filemon played a lively tune, of skirling runs and quick returns, with trills high and warbles low, while Mikelaus danced a wild jig of kicking legs and knees brought high, ending all with a forward and backward somersault.

"Good work, Mikelaus!" cried Dame Corcas. "Perhaps our friends will favor you with a coin or two, as is the habit of the gentry!"

Sir Pom-Pom growled: "Be content that you devour our food and swill our wine."

Filemon put on a face of moist reproach, his eyes large and round. "We are comrades of the road-vagabonds of the same far horizons! Is it not share with one, share with all? Those are the rules of the gallant wayfarers!"

"If this is true, I prefer otherwise," muttered Sir Pom-Pom. Dame Corcas emitted a sudden groan. "Ah! How the pangs do bite! It is my ailment; I have overexerted myself, as is my wont! Always I do too much for others! Filemon, my potion: where is it?"

"In your pouch, my dear, as always!"

"Ah indeed! I must limit my exertions, or I may well become ill!

Sir Pom-Pom said: "We saw you at the fair. You were bounding about with great agility. Filemon threw Mikelaus high in the air, and you ran like the wind to catch him in the net."

Mikelaus said: "Gurgo arraska, selvo sorarsio!" Dame Corcas said: "Yes, it was a shameful failure, for which we can blame the dog."

"Bismal darstid: mango ki-yi-yi."

"Whatever the case," said Dame Corcas, "the trick takes much out of me! I suffer for days afterward, but our public demands the spectacle; they know us of yore and we cannot disappoint them!"

Filemon chuckled. "There is a variation to the trick, wherein we pretend to be three incompetent lunatics and purposely let

Mikelaus fall, though pretending to catch him, but failing through one or another of our comic antics."

"Dasa miago lou-lou. Yi. Tinka."

"Just so!" said Filemon. "And the soup is now prepared to Dame Corcas' exacting standards. I serve you with our compliments! Eat hearty, one and all! Even you, Mikelaus; for once in your penurious little life, you shall sup your fill!"

"Arum."

After the meal, Madouc and Sir Pom-Pom prepared to continue on their way. Filemon called in a cheery voice: "If we may, we will go in your company, and thus enliven the journey!"

"Of course we shall!" said Dame Corcas definitely. "It would be sad indeed if we were to part company now, after such a jolly time together."

"Then it is so decided, by popular vote!" declared Filemon.

"We shall go as a little group of boon companions," declared Dame Corcas. "Even though you two ride fine horses while we must walk-or in the case of poor raggle-taggle little Mikelaus, scurry and lope. Be brave, good Mikelaus! Someday the world will turn right for you, and give you a fine reward for all your generous deeds."

"Yi arum bosko."

The group set off down the lane: Sir Pom-Pom riding first on gray Fustis, with Madouc next on Juno, at a gait sufficiently easy that Filemon and Dame Corcas, trudging behind, had no difficulty in keeping pace, and even Mikelaus, by dint of first running at full speed, then halting to catch his breath, remained only a few yards behind.

The lane wound up hill and down dale: between hedges of hawthorn or low fences of mossy fieldstone; past vineyards and orchards, fields of barley and water-meadows sprinkled with flowers; into the shade of small forests, then once more out into the open sunlight.

All at once, after two hours of travel, Dame Corcas gave a choking cry and, clutching her chest, fell to her knees, where she remained, sobbing under her breath. Filemon instantly went to tend her. "My dear Corcas, what is it this time? Another of your attacks?"

Dame Corcas at last managed to speak. "I fear as much. Luckily, it does not seem truly severe, and I do not need my

potion. Still, for a period I am obliged to rest. You and dear Mikelaus must go on to Biddle Bray without me, and make arrangements for the gala. When I am better I will creep on alone at my own pace, and eventually, if the Fates are kind, I will arrive in time to do my stint at the performance."

"Unthinkable!" declared Filemon staunchly. "Surely there is a better solution to the problem! Let us take the advice of our friends." He addressed Sir Pom-Pom. "What is your opinion?"

"I would not wish to offer advice."

Filemon struck his fist into the palm of his hand. "I have it!" He turned to Madouc. "Perhaps you, in your kindness, might allow Dame Corcas to ride in your place onward to Biddle Bray, which lies along the road at no great distance."