Lyonesse II - The Green Pear and Madouc (56 page)

“I have a whole bouquet of flowers on order,” Melancthe told him. “These blooms are now my fascination; I dote upon them!”

Shimrod laughed. “Is it not strange that they work so strong an influence upon you? Do you not fear falling under an enchantment?”

Melancthe gave him a startled sideglance. “What enchantment could it be, save the force of sheer beauty? They are my dearest loves! Their colours sing to me; their perfumes bring me dreams!”

“Pleasant dreams, I hope? Some of the odors are remarkably rank.”

Melancthe showed him one of her rare smiles. “The dreams are various. Some are most surprising. Some, I suspect, might exceed the limits of your imagination.”

“No doubt whatever! I am denied such ecstasies by my mean and paltry soul.” Shimrod looked around the meadow. “Where is this merchant of dreams?”

Melancthe pointed. “Just there! I see Yossip, but where are my lovely flowers? No doubt he has put them aside for me.”

Melancthe ran to the booth. “Yossip, good morning to you, and where is my bouquet?”

Yossip shook his head mournfully. “Lady, in this case the truth is more simple, more elemental and more convincing than any lie. I will tell you the full and exact truth. This morning when I went to cut flowers, I came upon a grievous sight! Each plant had fallen and died, as if ravaged by the blight! There are no more plants! There are no more flowers!”

Melancthe stood rigid. “How is it possible?” she whispered. “Must it always be thus? That when I have found something sweet and dear it is taken from me? Yossip, how can you be so cruel? All night long I have pined for these flowers!”

Yossip gave a shrug. “Truly, lady, the fault is not mine, and therefore the coins you paid over to me should not be returned.”

Shimrod said: “Yossip, allow me to cite the first principle of business ethics. If you give nothing of value, then you may not expect payment, regardless of all else. I speak only as a disinterested spectator.”

Yossip cried out: “I cannot give up so much good gold! My plants have been destroyed; I deserve pity, not new strokes of misfortune! Let the lady select elsewhere from among my treasures! I hold nothing back! Here is an absolute prize: a black pebble dredged from the bottom of the River Styx! And observe this touching scene of a child caressing his mother, done in a mosaic of birds’ eyes in gum. I stock a good selection of amulets all of great power, and this magic bronze comb invigorates the hair, repels infestations and cures scabies. These are all valuable articles!”

“I want none of them,” said Melancthe crossly. “Still- let me look at that green gem you have on display.”

Yossip hissed between his teeth, and reluctantly brought down the shallow box in which reposed the green pearl. “I am not so sure that I wish to part with this exquisite object.”

“Come then! You yourself declared that nothing was held back! These gentlemen will testify to your word!” She indicated Shimrod and two or three others who had paused to watch the altercation.

“Again, as a disinterested spectator, I must corroborate Melancthe’s statement,” said Shimrod. He spoke in an abstracted voice, in search of a memory which for the moment evaded him. Somewhere he had encountered news of a green pearl, but the context evaded him. The green pearl, so he recalled, had been some sort of evil token.

“I as well!” declared a florid young peasant with yellow hair caught under the dark green cap of a woodcutter. “I know nothing of the case but I will avouch the hearing of my two good ears.”

“So then!” said Melancthe in triumph. “Bring the box closer so that I may see the pearl.”

Yossip angrily brought down the box and held it so that Melancthe was afforded barely a glimpse at the pearl. In a surly voice Yossip told her: “This gem is worth ten times the gold you paid me; I cannot let it go on the cheap!”

Melancthe leaned and craned her neck that she might see more readily into the box. “It is extraordinary!” she breathed, her flowers now forgotten. She reached to take up the gem, but Yossip jerked back the box.

“Come now!” demanded Melancthe. “Is this proper conduct for a huckster? To proffer, to allow a glimpse, then to snatch away the merchandise as if the customer were a robber? Where is your master, Zuck? He will not be pleased with such conduct!”

Yossip winced and grimaced in confusion. “Never mind about Zuck; he has given me full discretion.”

“Then show me the pearl, or I will call for the steward and these two gentlemen shall be my witnesses!”

“Bah!” grumbled Yossip. “Such intimidation is only a step removed from robbery itself. Can you blame me for not trusting you with the gem?”

“Either the gem or my gold coins!”

“The gem is worth far more! First let us agree to that!”

“Perhaps a trifle more.”

Reluctantly Yossip allowed Melancthe the box. She stared down entranced. “The colour envelops me with its fervor! How much more do you ask?”

Yossip had still not recovered his equanimity. “Truth to tell, I have not yet determined its value. This jewel might readily grace the King of Araby’s crown!”

Melancthe turned to Shimrod, with arch mischief in her face. “Shimrod, what is your opinion of the jewel?”

“It is handsome, if somewhat baleful,” said Shimrod. “Somewhere I have heard rumors of a similar jewel, perhaps in a fabulous legend; I cannot remember the occasion. I recall nothing good to be said for the pearl. It was worn by a Bloodthirsty pirate.”

“Shimrod! Dear cautious, good, mild-mannered Shimrod! Does the legend so perturb you, when you have hardly glanced at the pearl itself?” She extended him the box. “At least give me your estimate of its value.”

“I am hardly an expert!”

“In such matters everyone is an expert, since he knows what he would pay for it.”

“I would give nothing.”

“For once behave like an ordinary man! Take it up and feel its heft! Study the surface for flaws; gauge the subtlety of its seagreen fire.”

Shimrod took the box and looked down sidelong. “It shows no obvious flaws. The colour has an envious malignant overtone.”

Melancthe was still dissatisfied. “Why are you so diffident? Look at it from all sides! I want only your best and truest judgment.”

Shimrod reluctantly reached to take the pearl, but his elbow was seized by the florid young peasant with yellow hair. “Shimrod, a word with you aside about this pearl.”

Shimrod placed the box back on the counter; the two went a little apart and the young peasant spoke in an edged voice: “Did I not warn you against Melancthe’s behests? Do not touch the pearl! It is a node of pure depravity, nothing more.”

“Of course! Now I remember! Tristano told us a tale of such a pearl! But Melancthe can know nothing of this!”

“Perhaps a voice talks into her inner ear… . Tamurello is coming into the meadow; I do not want to be recognized. Tax him strongly for news of Visbhume! Under no circumstances touch the pearl!” The peasant mingled with the crowd.

Subdued and crestfallen, Shimrod went back to Melancthe. He muttered into her ear: “The fellow has some knowledge of pearls and tells me that this object is not a true pearl, since true pearls are never green. I now remember the rumor. Do not touch this false pearl as you value your soul; it is worse than worthless; it is a whorl of depravity.”

Melancthe cried out in a low voice: “I have never been so affected before! It seems to sing to me, in a haunting music!”

“Still, if you have never believed me before, believe me now! Despite all your treacheries, I would not have you come to harm.”

From his post behind the booth Yossip stated grandly: “I have calculated the worth of this glorious jewel: one hundred gold crowns exactly!”

Shimrod spoke harshly: “The Lady Melancthe does not want the thing at any price. Return her coins at once.”

Melancthe stood limp and silent with mouth drooping; when Yossip, glaring sidelong at Shimrod, paid out the five gold coins, she dropped them into her wallet without giving them a glance.

Tamurello, in the same guise as of the night before, halted and gave Shimrod a polite salute. “I am surprised to find you so far from Trilda! Have you lost all interest in my affairs?”

“Other matters occasionally intrude upon my attention,” said Shimrod. “At the moment I want a few words with Visbhume. You saw him last night; where is he now?”

Tamurello smilingly shook his head. “He went his way, I went mine; I know nothing of his present locality.”

“Why not alter the habits of a lifetime and speak with candor?” asked Shimrod. “Truth, after all, need not be only the tactic of last resort.”

“Ah, Shimrod! I am concerned by your negative opinion! In regard to Visbhume, I have nothing to hide. I spoke to him last night, then we parted company. I can offer no insights as to his plans.”

“What did he tell you?”

“Hm hah! I fear that we verge close upon the question of confidentiality! Still, I will tell what I know. He reported that he had only just arrived from Tanjecterly, which is one of Twitten’s ‘Dekadiade’, as perhaps you know.”

“Something to this effect has reached me. Did he mention the Princess Glyneth? What were his reports of her?”

“In this regard he was somewhat evasive, and I infer that she came to an unhappy end. Tanjecterly is a cruel domain.”

“He was not specific in this regard?”

“Not altogether. In fact, his intent was to tell me as little as possible.”

“While in your presence did he discard all his clothing, for reasons totally beyond my conjecture?”

“What a startling idea!” declared Tamurello, in mild reproach. “The images which you place before my mind’s eye are deplorable!”

“Most odd! Last night I came upon his garments in a heap at the side of the road.”

Tamurello gave his head a bland shake, “Often, in cases of this sort, the simple explanation is ignored or overlooked. Perhaps he merely exchanged his soiled and travel-worn garments for others more presentable.”

“Would he discard his valuable copy of Twitten’s Almanac along with the soiled clothes?”

Tamurello, caught offguard, arched his sardonic eyebrows high and stroked his neat black beard. “One can only suspect him of absentmindedness, or vagary. But of course I cannot presume knowledge of Visbhume’s quirks. Now, please excuse me.”

Tamurello turned to Melancthe. “And what have you found of interest?”

“Here is where I found my flowers, but now the plants are dead, and I will never know their charm again.”

“A pity.” Glancing into the booth, Tamurello caught sight of the green pearl. He became instantly rigid, then advanced step by slow step, to bend his head down over the box.

“It is a green glory, a nonpareil!” declared Yossip in excitement. “The price? A trifling hundred gold coins!”

Tamurello paid no heed. He reached out his hand; his fingers fluttered down upon the pearl. From the shadows at the end of the counter a green and black snake lunged forth. It seized the pearl in its mouth and gulped it down in a trice, then slid back across the counter, down to the ground and away into the forest.

Tamurello gave a choked cry and ran around the booth, in time to see the snake slide into a hole between the roots of a gnarled old oak.

Tamurello clenched his hands, cried out a spell of six syllables and transformed himself into a long gray weasel which darted into the hole after the snake.

From below ground came faint squeaks and hisses: then silence.

A minute passed. Up from the hole came the weasel carrying the green pearl in its mouth. For an instant it glared red-eyed across the meadow, then jerked into motion and started to bound away.

A florid young peasant with flaxen hair moved even more quickly. He clapped a glass jar over the weasel and fixed tight the lid, compressing the weasel down upon its haunches, where it sat, the green pearl firmly in its mouth, the long nose pushed down on its belly, and its hind legs thrust up past its ears.

The peasant put the jar on the counter of Yossip’s booth, and as the group watched, the weasel dissolved into a green transparency, like a skeleton in aspic, with the pearl glowing green at its center.

THE GRAY CRUMBLE OF THE ASPHRODISKE SKYUNE became lost in the haze astern, as the wole ran to the west: away from the black moon, back across the Plain of Lilies. Overhead the yellow sun and the green sun circled each other with a languid incessant inevitability, which Glyneth thought might ultimately disturb a person of erratic disposition, and which, if the truth be known, she herself found unpleasant, now that she had time to brood.

With Visbhume’s departure, the tension along taut nerves had suddenly loosened, and the stimulation of Visbhume’s mercurial, if odd, personality was gone, leaving a flat tired aftermath.

At the first halt Glyneth insisted that Kul rest and renew his strength. Kul, however, quickly became moody, and refused to lie quiet in the manner which Glyneth considered proper. “I feel trapped in this little house!” he growled. “When I lie still, staring up at the thatch, I feel like a corpse with his eyes open. I hear voices shouting as if from far distances; as I lie idle the voices come wild and angry, and grow louder!”

“Still, you must recuperate,” Glyneth declared. “Therefore, rest is needful; nothing else will serve, since I dare not use Visbhume’s tonics on you at random.”

“I want none of Visbhume’s stuffs,” muttered Kul. “I feel better when we travel west; that is the command given into my mind, and I feel easy only when I obey.”

“Very well then,” said Glyneth. “We shall travel, but you must sit quietly and let me nurse you. I do not know what I would do if you sickened and died.”

“Yes, that would be most tragic,” Kul agreed. He sat up from the couch. “Let us be on our way. I feel better already!” Once again the wole ran westward. Kul’s spirits improved and he began to show traces of his old vitality.

The Plain of Lilies fell behind, and the Dark Woods, and presently the town Pude appeared in the distance. Kul took up Zaxa’s two-handed sword Zil and went to stand in front of the pergola, legs apart and the point of the sword between his feet. On the high bench Glyneth arranged the blow-tube and the fire-mites, and made sure that the Tormentor bulbs were ready to hand.