The Stolen Lake (24 page)

"How did you manage to remove it without the guardian's knowledge?" inquired Mr. Windward.

"My spies picked a couple of nights when he was down in Bath reporting to the queen, which he does twice a month."

What a deal of trouble would have been saved, Dido thought, if the spies had only found the princess. I'd have been home by this time, and Cap'n Hughes wouldn't be in jail.

While the mutton was roasting for the feast, they all lolled on warm earthenware couches shaped like the letter
P
laid on its side. The villa was centrally heated by underground ducts from Pampoyle and Catelonde. They reclined against wool-stuffed cushions and drank mead, while Bran played his harp and sang. Elen and Mr. Holystone sat side by side, apparently listening to the music, not talking to one another. Dido felt a painful tightness in her chest, either at the music or at the sight of them, so she moved over and listened instead to King Mabon discussing with the English officers the state of affairs in New Cumbria.

"Bad as it can be, and no better in Hy Brasil," Mabon was saying. "Gwydion's foster brother Ccaedmon—lucky the relationship is no closer, proper tyrant
he
is—turned the whole country into a big-game preserve—evicted half his subjects from their homes. Cuts off the peasants' hands if they catch so much as a guinea pig."

"A guinea pig, sir?"

"Indeed yes! Cui, they call them hereabouts—because of the sound, you know"—King Mabon imitated a guinea pig's squeak so realistically that the governor's cat shot into the room and began searching suspiciously under the couches. "Or," the king went on, "some say it is short for
cui cui modo.
Guinea pigs used to be the staple diet in Hy Brasil until Ccaedmon declared that they belonged to the crown." He glanced over at his daughter and Holystone. His brow clouded slightly. He called, "Gwydion, my boy!"

Holystone rose a little reluctantly and came across the room.

"Sir?"

Dido caught a queer, polite echo of Captain Hughes's steward.

"Now, now, boyo, it is I who should be calling you sir," Mabon said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Only it comes hard with a lad I taught to cast his first trout fly. Queer it must be for you, indeed, and difficult to take it all in."

"Oh,
why,
" burst out Holystone, looking harassed and miserable, "why must this happen to
me?
Why should I, of all people, be brought back in this way? To what end?"

"As to why
you,
bless me if I know!" said King Mabon frankly. "But it had to be someone, now, didn't it? And when you ask to what end—haven't I just been saying? Gracious to goodness, why this whole region—with the exception of Lyonesse, which, I pride myself, is as peaceful and prosperous a little country as you could hope to visit—the whole of Roman America apart from that is in a disgraceful condition of tyranny, anarchy, and misrule. Time it was the High King came back; someone who will be accepted by the people and set matters to rights.

"Are they still head-hunting in Cumbria?" he asked Windward.

"Indeed yes, sir; I gather it is a thriving practice."

"And the things that go on in Biru you'd never believe—brigandage, cannibalism—I believe they even sacrifice their grandmothers to Sul. Grandmothers! And in the streets of Manoa you daren't go out at night because robbers make off with the silver manhole covers; you could fall straight into the sewers and get washed away. No, no, my dear Gwydion—Artaius—time it is you came back, not a moment too soon indeed. And then there's your good lady over in Cumbria—time some of
her
habits were taken in hand."

Holystone looked even more unhappy.

"Have you ever met her, sir?"

"Not I, my boy! Won't cross her frontiers; won't receive foreign rulers. But these gentlemen have met her, I believe."

Multiple shook his head. The lieutenant said, "The young lady has talked to her more than I have."

"Have you indeed, my dear? And lived to tell the tale? Uncommon, that is," King Mabon said. "Tell us what she is like, then, eh?"

How to describe someone who is both wicked and sentimental, self-centered, silly, and terrifyingly powerful? Dido's usual readiness of tongue deserted her. And besides, it was, after all, poor Mr. Holystone's wife they were talking about; and he looked glum enough already.

After some thought, Dido muttered, "She sure wants Mr. Holy back. She don't think of much else. She wanted me to try and gull King Mabon into believing I was his daughter. So she'd get the lake back."

She looked up into Mr. Holystone's sad gray eyes.

"You have seen Guinevere?" he said slowly. "Is she—is she much changed?"

"How'd
I
know?" Dido said crossly. "I dunno what she was like afore, do I? All I know is, she's been waiting a plaguy long time and it's—upset her. She'd be the better for not having that mess o' havey-cavey old witches round her, too—Lady Ettarde, and Morgan, and the other one. Well, one of 'em's dead," she added thoughtfully, remembering the scene at Elen's rescue.

"Which one?" inquired Bran, who had joined the group. His voice was sharp with interest. Dido glanced at him in surprise.

"I'd have thought you'd know, mister! It's the one as called herself Mrs. Vavasour."

An odd look came into Bran's face—sorrow compounded with relief. He lifted his shoulders as if a weight had fallen from them. And his cockatoo flew across the room and perched on his wrist.

Dido wondered what Bran's connection had been with the witch-dressmaker. But Princess Elen had now followed Holystone, and sat down by her father, who tucked his arm round her affectionately. She said, "Mrs. Vavasour is dead? I am glad of that."

She shivered, and went on: "She told me she had set a snake to watch me, outside the cave entrance, and that it would grow and double its size every day, and could see me through the crack and would bite me if I tried to get out. I—I didn't really believe her, but I used to think I could hear it hissing."

"Ugh! How could you bear it, ma'am?" said Multiple with a shudder. "I can't abide snakes."

"I daresay most of their witcheries are no more than mumbo-jumbo, done to frighten credulous folk," said Mabon.

"But that owl did turn into Mrs. Vavasour," said Dido. "It ain't all mumbo-jumbo." And there was my reflection in the mirror, she thought.

Elen said, "Bran used to tell us when we were children that witchcraft was the wickedness in several people's minds combining to form something worse still. Like making poison by mixing things that are harmless taken singly." She looked into Holystone's face wistfully. "Artaius? Gwydion? Can you really remember nothing of when we were children?"

He shook his head. "Only a vagueness—like a dream, half-caught."

"You don't recall how you used to stay with us? Or that Bran here was your tutor?"

"The best pupil I ever had," Bran said. "
He
never had to stay in to learn his principal parts, as you and your brothers did, Princess."

"
Why
can't I remember?" muttered Holystone, pressing his brow, as if to make a hole and let air into his brain.

"Some external force is blocking your mind for its own ends," Bran told him. "It is of no consequence. You know that you are the High King. Other memory will return in time."

The governor's cat had followed Elen and now jumped into her lap.

"They still follow you, eh?" said her father. "Did they do so in that English Bath? And what did Miss Castlereagh say to that?"

"Oh, she was a very kind lady, Dadda. She sent her dutiful respects to you, when I left, and gave me a pomander ball and a copy of Dr. Johnson's
Dictionary of the English Language.
The pomander ball I lost when the pirates captured our ship, but the dictionary has proved very useful."

"Nothing like a good vocabulary, I always say." King Mabon beamed at his daughter. "But look, supper's ready—all your favorites, my dear. Roast mutton, bara brith, and syllabub!"

Since he had had no expectation of meeting his daughter when he first began his tour of the kingdom, King Mabon had brought no ladies-in-waiting with him. Dido kindly offered to perform this office for the princess until they reached Lyonesse City.

"As to that," said Elen, "personal maids weren't allowed at Miss Castlereagh's, so I managed for myself all the time I was at school. But I'd be glad if you would share my room, Dido. I still feel nervous when I think of that cave; if I listen, I think I can hear those old witches flapping and hissing outside." She shivered uneasily.

"I've never been to school. Did you like it?" asked Dido, hoping to distract her.

"All but the embroidery. I must have stitched at least eighteen miles of it in the nine years I was there! I made a vow that when I got back to Lyonesse I'd never touch a needle again."

They were brushing each other's hair with bunches of ichu grass. There was no looking glass in the room, but Dido suddenly recollected that she still had Queen Ginevra's little diamond-studded hand mirror, and pulled it from her jacket pocket.

"Why!" she said, pleased, "my reflection's come back."

"What
can
you mean?"

"Queen Ginevra took it." Dido explained how her image had gone from the bowl and glasses.

"I daresay her power grows less the farther you are from Bath," Elen suggested.

Dido wondered rather dismally what would happen to Mr. Holystone when he returned to that city.

"Oh!" cried Elen, as if catching this thought, "I can't
bear
it that he's married to that hateful woman. When he has gone back to Cumbria—I shall probably never see him again."

Dido saw that there were tears in the princess's eyes.

Poor thing, she thought. I used to reckon it'd be all jam and high jinks being a princess, but I guess that ain't so; they don't have it much better than ordinary folk.

"Come, cheer up," she said gruffly. "You can't ever tell how things'll turn out. Maybe they'll look better in the morning. Us had best get to bed."

In the middle of the night, however, they were woken by a tap on the door. Dido, opening it cautiously, saw Mr. Multiple, who had been posted outside to keep guard. He looked very strange—pale, ghastly, and staring eyed.

"Why, what's up, Mr. Mully?"

"
Quick
—don't make any noise, but follow me, both of you!" he whispered. "There is horrible danger!" His freckles were black dots against the pallor of his cheeks, his red hair was dark and lank with sweat.

"What the blazes can it be? Where's Mr. Holy—and King Mabon—and Bran?"

"
Hush!
Come outside and I will tell you! The princess too!"

Dido was disturbed and dubious, but Mr. Multiple whispered, "
Please
come!" with such urgency that Elen said, "Very well, we will follow you," and the two girls wrapped themselves in togas and tiptoed after him. He led them swiftly but silently to a side entrance that opened into a narrow lane beside the governor's house. Dido, following him, noticed that he seemed oddly bulky. How'd he ever get so fat so fast? she wondered; he must have fairly tucked into that roast mutton and syllabub.

Outside, in the alley, "Now then, what is—?" Dido began, but before she could utter another syllable her hands were grabbed and tied behind her and she was lifted up and bumped down uncomfortably onto the crupper of somebody's saddle. "Make no sound!" a voice hissed in her ear. "Do you feel this blade?" Dido nodded. A sharp point was jabbed between her ribs. "It will gut you like a herring if you let out a single squeak." Elen had been similarly pinioned and mounted. Looking in horror and outrage for Mr. Multiple—how
could
he have been capable of such treachery?—Dido gasped with astonishment. An enormous snake which had been coiled round him under his jacket now dropped to the ground and slithered away into the shadows. Half fainting with terror, the wretched midshipman was also tied up and dragged onto a pony; then the troop of their captors—there seemed to be nine or ten—set off silently and speedily through the dark streets of Wandesborough.

The ponies' hoofs were muffled in sacking and made no sound. Dido thought they must surely be stopped when they came to the town gate, but no: evidently the sentries had been poisoned or drugged, for they lolled in their guard boxes like limp marionettes and never stirred as the riders passed by. Once outside the wall, the ponies' pace was increased to a gallop.

There was a little light from the old moon, which hung like a sliver of coconut in one corner of the sky, and Dido could see that they were taking a course at right angles to that followed by King Mabon when he and his legionaries returned to the town. Best keep a watch for landmarks, Dido thought; not much else to be done just now.

There were few landmarks to be seen in this huge, grassy basin, but they rode with the four stars of the Southern Cross behind them and to the right, which must mean that they were heading northeast; and away to the left a red glow, and occasional sparkles in the sky, suggested that Mount Catelonde was fretting and fidgeting as Mr. Holystone had done in his haunted sleep.

Blister me, thought Dido angrily, I'll never trust
anybody
ever again. I reckon this must be more of Queen Ginevra's doing; wonder how she knew that Mr. Mully was so scared of snakes? Poor thing, he must feel terrible bad.

She half wished she could get near him to comfort him, but felt impatient with his cowardice, too. He mighta managed to give us some hint, so we could have raised the alarm. But then, in fairness, she thought, I've never had a snake wrapped round my midriff. I mightn't feel so devil-may-care if I had.

After an hour's hard riding the party reached a region of steeper hillsides and small deep valleys. By now dawn was beginning to pale the sky and a faint glow showed where the sun would rise, over on the right. Dido was confirmed in her guess that they were traveling toward New Cumbria. By a different route, evidently, not through the Pass of Nimue; and indeed, approaching a high crag, where cascading lava from Mount Pampoyle had hardened into a kind of rock ladder, they dismounted and climbed up to an entrance in the cliff face above them. The three captives were prodded forward at dagger point, and some of their guards stood below as they climbed, pointing crossbows at them.