Lyonesse II - The Green Pear and Madouc (103 page)

Twisk was favorably impressed by Sir Pellinore's appearance and stepped demurely forward. Sir Pellinore jumped to his feet and welcomed her with a nice blend of courtesy and candid admiration, which pleased her to such an extent that she joined him by the pool, where they sat side by side on a fallen log. Twisk asked his name and why he ventured so deeply into the Forest of Tantrevalles.

After an instant of hesitation he said: "You may know me as Sir Pellinore, a wandering knight of Aquitaine, in search of romantic adventure."

"You are far from your native land," said Twisk.

"For a vagabond, 'here' is as good as 'there'," said Sir Pellinore. "Furthermore-who knows?-I may well find my fortune in this secret old forest. I have already discovered the most beautiful creature ever to torment my imagination!"

Twisk smiled and looked at him through half-lowered lashes. "Your remarks are reassuring, but they come so easily that I wonder at their conviction. Can they really be sincere?"

"Were I made of stone I would still be convinced! Though my voice might be somewhat less melodious."

Twisk laughed quietly and allowed her shoulder to brush that of Sir Pellinore. "In regard to fortune, the ogre Gois has robbed, pillaged and preempted thirty tons of gold, which in his vanity he used to create a monumental statue of himself. The ogre Carabara owns a crow which speaks ten languages, foretells the weather and gambles with dice, winning large sums from every one it encounters. The ogre Throop is master of a dozen treasures, including a tapestry which each day shows a different scene, a fire which burns without fuel and a bed of air upon which he rests in comfort. According to rumour, he took a chalice sacred to the Christians from a fugitive monk, and many brave knights, from all over Christendom, have attempted to wrest this article from Throop."

"And how have they fared?"

"Not well. Some challenge Throop to combat; usually they are killed by a pair of goblin knights. Others who bring gifts are allowed into Castle Doldil, but to what effect? All end up either in Throop's great black soup kettle or in a cage, where they must amuse Throop and all three of his heads as they dine. Seek your fortune elsewhere; that is my advice."

"I suspect that I have found the most marvellous fortune the world provides here in this very glade," said Sir Pellinore.

"That is a graceful sentiment."

Sir Pellinore clasped Twisk's slender hand. "I would willingly enhance the occasion, were I not in awe of your fairy beauty, and also of your fairy magic."

"Your fears are absurd," said Twisk.

So for a time the two dallied in the glade, at last becoming languid. Twisk tickled Sir Pellinore's ear with a blade of grass. "And when you leave this glade, where will you go?"

"Perhaps north, perhaps south. Perhaps I will visit Throop in his den and avenge his murders, and also divest him of his wealth."

Twisk cried out in sadness You are both brave and gallant but you would only share the fate of all the others!"

"Is there no way to baffle this evil creature?"

"You may gain time by a ruse, but in the end he will trick you."

"What is the ruse?"

"Appear before the Castle Doldil with a gift. He then must offer you hospitality and return a host-gift of the same value. He will offer food and drink but you must take only what he gives and no more by so much as a crumb or then, with a great roar he will accuse you of theft and that will be your doom. Heed my advice, Sir Pellinore! Look elsewhere for both vengeance and fortune!"

"You are persuasive!" Sir Pellinore bent to kiss the beautiful face so close to his own, but Twisk, looking over his shoulder, saw the distorted visage of Mangeon the troll glaring through the foliage. She gave a startled cry, and told Sir Pellinore what she had seen, but when he jumped to his feet, sword in hand, Mangeon had disappeared.

Twisk and Sir Pellinore at last parted. Twisk returned to Thripsey Shee; as for Sir Pellinore, she could only hope that he had not taken himself to Castle Doldil, in accordance with his stated inclination. "That," said Twisk, "is all I know of Sir Pellinore."

"But where should I look to find him now?"

Twisk gave one of her airy shrugs. "Who knows? Perhaps he set off to vanquish Throop; perhaps not. Only Throop will know the truth."

"Would Throop remember after so long?"

"The shields of all his victim knights bedizen the walls of his hall; for recollection, Throop need only look along the ranked escutcheons. But he would tell you nothing unless you told him something of equal consequence in return."

Madouc frowned. "Might not he simply seize me and drop me into his soup kettle?"

"Indeed! If you made free with his property." Twisk rose to her feet. "My best advice is this: avoid Castle Doldil. Throop's three heads are equally merciless."

"Still, I am anxious to learn the fate of Sir Pellinore."

"Alas!" sighed Twisk. "I can advise you no better! If through obstinate folly you risk the venture, remember what I told Sir Pellinore. First you must win past a pair of goblin knights mounted on gryphons."

"How shall I do this?"

Twisk spoke in irritation. "Have I not taught you the Tinkle-toe? Apply it at triple-force. After you have thwarted the goblins and their nightmare steeds, you may request admission to Castle Doldil. Throop will admit you with pleasure. Greet each of the three heads in turn, as they are jealous of their status. On the left is Pism, in the center is Pasm, to the right is Posm. You must mention that you come as a guest and that you bring a host-gift. Thereafter, take only what is freely given and not an iota more. If you obey this rule, Throop is powerless to do you harm, by reason of a spell long ago imposed upon him. If he offers you a grape, do not take the stem. If he allows you a dish of cold porridge, and you discover a weevil in the meal, put it carefully aside or inquire as to its best disposition. Take no gift for which you cannot make a proper return. If you give your host-gift first, he must respond with a gift of equal value. Above all, attempt no theft from Throop, for his eyes see everywhere."

Sir Pom-Pom spoke: "Does Throop for a fact hold the Holy Grail in custody?"

"Possibly. Many have lost their lives in the quest! So it maybe."

Travante put a question. "What host-gifts should we bring to Throop, to hold his rage in check?"

Twisk spoke in surprise. "You too intend to risk your life?"

"Why not? Is it unthinkable that Throop keeps my lost youth locked away in his great chest, along with his other valuables?"

"It is not unthinkable, but not probable either," said Twisk.

"No matter; I will search where I can: the most likely places first."

Twisk asked, half-mocking: "And what, of equal value, will you offer Throop in return?"

Travante considered. "What I seek is beyond value. I must ponder carefully."

Sir Pom-Pom asked: "What can I offer Throop that he might part with the Holy Grail?"

The fairies who had come to listen had lost interest and one by one had wandered away, until only three implets remained. After whispering together, they had become convulsed with mirth. Twisk turned to chide them. "Why, suddenly, are you so merry?"

One of the implets ran forward and, half-giggling, half-whispering, spoke into her ear, and Twisk herself began to smile. She looked across the meadow; King Throbius and Queen Bossum still discussed the forthcoming banquet with their high officials. Twisk gave the implet instructions; all three scuttled around to the back of the castle. Twisk, meanwhile, instructed both Travante and Madouc in regard to the host-gifts which they must offer Throop.

The implets returned, again by a devious route, now carrying a bundle wrapped in a tatter of purple silk. They came stealthily, keeping to the shadows of the forest, where they called to Twisk in soft voices. "Come! Come! Come!"

Twisk spoke to the adventurers: "Let us move into a secluded place. King Throbius is extremely generous, most especially when he knows nothing of his given gifts."

Secure from observation, Twisk unwrapped the parcel, revealing a golden vessel studded with carnelians and opals. Three spouts projected from the top, pointing in three directions.

"This is a vessel of great utility," said Twisk. "The first spout pours mead, the second crisp ale and the third wine of good quality. The vessel has an unexpected adjunct, to prevent unauthorized use. When this onyx bead is pressed, the yield of all three spouts alters for the worse. The mead becomes a vile and vicious swill; the ale would seem to be brewed from mouse droppings; the wine has become a vinous acid, mingled with tincture of blister-beetles. To restore goodness to the drink, one must touch this garnet bead, and all is well. If the garnet bead is pressed during normal use, the three tipples take on a double excellence. The mead, so it is said, becomes a nectar of flowers saturated with sunlight. The ale takes on grandeur, while the wine is like the fabled elixir of life."

Madouc inspected the vessel with awe. "And if one were to press the garnet bead twice?"

"No one dares to contemplate these levels of perfection. They are reserved for the Sublime Entities."

"And what if the onyx bead were pressed twice?"

"Dark ichor of mephalim, cacodyl and cadaverine-these are the fluids yielded by the spouts."

"And thrice?" suggested Sir Pom-Pom.

Twisk made an impatient motion. "Such details need not concern us. Throop will covet the vessel, and it will become your host-gift. I can do no more save urge you to travel south, rather than north to Castle Doldil. And now: the afternoon is on the wane!" Twisk kissed Madouc, and said: "You may keep the pink and white kerchief; it will provide you shelter. If you live, perhaps we shall meet again."

Madouc and Travante wrapped the golden vessel in the purple silk cloth and slung it over Sir Pom-Pom's sturdy shoulders.

With no more ado, they circled Madling Meadow and set off up Wamble Way.

On this pleasant afternoon there were comings and goings along the road. The three had travelled only a mile when from far ahead sounded the shrilling of fairy trumpets, growing ever louder and more brilliant. Down the road came dashing a cavalcade of six fairy riders, wearing costumes of black silk and helmets of complex design. They rode black chargers of a strange sort: deep-chested, running low to the ground on taloned legs, their heads like black sheep-skulls with flaring green eyes. Pell mell the six fairy knights rode past, hunching low, black capes flapping, pale faces sardonic. The pounding of flailing feet receded; the shrilling of horns faded in the distance; the three wayfarers resumed their journey to the north.

Travante stopped short, then ran to peer into the forest. After a moment he turned away, shaking his head. "Sometimes I think it follows me, close at hand, whether from loneliness or a necessity which I cannot understand. Often I think I glimpse it, but when I go to look, it is gone."

Madouc peered into the forest. "I could keep a better watch if I knew what to look for."

"It is now a bit soiled, and somewhat tatterdemalion," said Travante. "Still, all taken with all, I would find it useful and a fine thing to own."

"We will keep a sharp lookout," said Madouc, and added pensively: "I hope that I do not lose my youth in the same way."

Travante shook his head. "Never! You are far more responsible than I was at your age."

Madouc gave a sad laugh. "That is not my reputation! I also worry about Sir Pom-Pom; he is heavier of mood than a boy his age should be. Perhaps it comes of working too long in the stables."

"So it may be!" said Travante. "The future will surely be full of surprises. Who knows what we might find should Throop throw open his great coffer?"

"Hardly likely! Even though Sir Pom-Pom brings a fine host-gift."

"My gift is less ostentatious in its value, though Twisk insisted that it is quite suitable."

"Mine is little better," said Madouc. She pointed to Sir Pom-Pom, twenty yards ahead. "Notice how alert Sir Pom-Pom has become! What could have aroused his interest?"

The object in question came into view: a sylph of superlative beauty riding sidewise on a white unicorn, one knee folded, one slim leg negligently dangling. She wore only the golden strands of her long hair, and guided the unicorn by little tugs on its mane. The two made a striking picture, and Sir Pom-Pom, for one, was favorably impressed.

The sylph halted her white steed, and inspected the three travellers with wide-eyed curiosity. "I bid you good afternoon," she said. "Where are you bound?"

"We are vagabonds, and each of us follows a dream," said Travante. "At the moment our quests take us toward Castle Doldil."

The sylph smiled a soft smile. "What you find may not be what you seek."

"We will carefully exchange courtesies with Sir Throop," said Travante. "Each of us brings a valuable host-gift, and we expect a jovial welcome."

The sylph gave her head a dubious shake. "I have heard wails, groans, screams and plaintive moans from Castle Doldil, but never yet a jovial call."

"Sir Throop's nature is perhaps over-serious," said Travante.

"Sir Throop's nature is grim and his hospitality is precarious. Still, you undoubtedly know your own affairs best. Now I must ride on. The banquet starts when the fireflies come out, and I would not be late for the merriment." She twitched at the unicorn's mane.

"One moment!" cried Sir Pom-Pom. "Must you go so soon?"

The syiph tugged at the mane; the unicorn bowed its head and pawed at the ground. "What is your need?"

Madouc spoke. "It is no great matter. Sir Pom-Pom admires the play of light in your long golden hair."

Sir Pom-Pom compressed his lips. "I might trade Holy Grail and all to ride with you to Thripsey Shee."

Madouc spoke curtly: "Control your admiration, Sir Pom-Pom! This lady has better things to think about than your cold hands groping at her chest all the way to Madling Meadow."

The sylph broke into a happy laugh. "I must hurry! Goodbye, goodbye! For I know I shall never see you again!" She twitched at the white mane, and the unicorn paced off down Wamble Way.