by Jack Vance
"And always you return safe and sound!"
Kerce turned her a quizzical glance, one eyebrow arched high, the other in a crooked twist. "I wonder what you mean by that."
Madouc laughed. "You are the second today to ask me such a question."
"And what was your response?"
"I told him that my words meant what I said they meant."
"You have odd quirks in your mind for one so young." Kerce turned in his seat and gave her his full attention. "And what brings you here? Is it caprice, or the work of Destiny?"
Madouc said soberly: "I have a question which I hope you will answer."
"Ask away; I will lay out all my lore for your inspection."
"There has been much talk of relics here at Haidion. I have become curious about what they call the Holy Grail. Is there indeed such a thing? If so, what does it look like, and where might it be found?"
"Of the Holy Grail I can tell you only a few bare facts," said d Kerce. "While I know of a hundred religions, I give credencee to none. The Grail is reputedly the chalice used by Jesus Christos when last he dined with his disciples. The chalice came into the hands of Joseph of Arimathea, who, so it is said, caught blood in the chalice from the wounds of the crucified Christ.
Subsequently, Joseph wandered across the world and at last visited Ireland, where he left the Grail on Isle Inchagoill in Lough Corrib north of Gaiway. A band of heathen Celts threatened the island chapel, and a monk named Father Sisembert brought the to chalice to the Elder Isles, and from this point onward the stories go at variance. According to one account the chalice is buried in crypts on Weamish Isle. Another reports that as Father Sisembert passed through the Forest of Tantrevalles, he met a dreadful ogre, who put him to evil uses, claiming that Father ad Sisembert had neglected courtesy. One of the ogre's three heads drank Sisimbert's blood; another ate his liver. The third head suffered from toothache and, lacking appetite, made dice of Sisimbert's knuckles. But perhaps that is only a story to be told around the fire on stormy nights."
"And who would know the truth?"
Kerce made a pensive gesture. "Who can say? Perhaps in the end it is all no more than legend. Many knights of chivalry have sought the Grail across the length and breadth of Christendom, and many have wandered the Elder Isles on the quest. Some departed forlorn; others died in combat or suffered bewitchment; others disappeared and have been seen no more. In truth, it seems mortal peril to seek the Grail!"
"Why should that be? unless somewhere it is guarded with great jealousy?"
"As to that, I cannot say. And never forget that in the end, the quest may only be the pursuit of an ideal dream!"
"Do you believe so?"
"I have no beliefs in this regard, nor in many another. Why are you concerned?"
"Queen Sollace wants to grace her new cathedral with the Holy Grail. She has gone so far as to offer me in marriage to whomever brings her this object! My own wishes, needless to say, were not consulted."
Kerce gave a dry chuckle. "I begin to understand your interest!"
"If I myself found the Grail, then I would be safe from such an annoyance."
"So it would seem-still, the Grail may no longer exist."
"If such is the case, a false Grail might be offered the queen. She would not know the difference."
"But I would," said Kerce. "The ploy would not succeed; I can assure you of this!"
Madouc looked at him sidewise. "How can you be so sure?"
Kerce compressed his lips, as if he had said more than he might have wished. "It is a secret. I will share it with you, if you hold it tightly to yourself."
"I promise."
Kerce rose to his feet and went to a cupboard. He removed a portfolio, extracted a drawing which he brought to the table. Madouc saw depicted a footed pale blue chalice eight inches tall, with handles at either side, slightly irregular. A dark blue band encircled the top rim; the base showed a ring of the same dark blue color.
"This is a drawing of the Grail. It was sent from Ireland to the monastery on Weamish Isle long ago, and rescued from the Goths by one of the monks. It is a true depiction, exact even to this nick in the base, and the differing length of the handles."
Kerce returned drawing and portfolio to the cupboard. "Now you know what there is to be known of the Grail. I prefer to keep the drawing secret, for several reasons."
"I will keep silent," said Madouc. "Unless the queen tries to marry me to someone who brings her a false Grail; then, if all else fails-""
Kerce waved his hand. "Say no more. I will make a true and accurate copy of the drawing, which may be used for attestation, if any such is needed."
Madouc departed the library; then, taking pains to go unobserved, she went around to the stables. Sir Pom-Pom was nowhere in evidence. Madouc looked in on Tyfer and rubbed his nose, then returned to the castle.
At noon Madouc dined in the Small Refectory with her six maids-in-waiting. Today they were unusually voluble, for there was much to discuss. King Casmir's proclamation, however, came to dominate the conversation. Elissia remarked, perhaps with sincerity, that Madouc must now be considered a famous person, whose name would resound down centuries to come. "Think of it!" sighed Elissia. "Here is the sheer stuff of romance! Legends will tell how handsome knights from far and near dared fire, ice, dragon and troll; how they fought crazed Celt and fierce Goth, all for love of the beautiful red-haired princess!"
Madouc offered a small correction. "My hair is not precisely red. It is a most unusual colour, as of copper alloyed with gold."
Chlodys said: "Nevertheless, for purposes of the legend, you will be considered red-haired and beautiful, with no regard whatever for the truth."
Devonet made a thoughtful comment. "As of now, we cannot be absolutely sure that this legend will come to pass."
"How so?" asked Ydraint.
"Much depends upon circumstances. Assume that some valiant and handsome knight brings the Holy Grail to Queen Sollace. King Casmir asks as to what boon the brave knight desires. At this point events hang in the balance. If he decides that he is disinclined for marriage, he might ask the king for a fine horse or a pair of good hunting dogs-which of course provides small scope for a legend."
Chlodys said sagaciously: "It is a risky situation."
Felice spoke: "Another matter! It is the best relic which wins the boon! So that after great efforts and far quests, the best relic brought to the queen might be, let us say, a hair from the tail of the lion who ate Saint Milicia in the Roman arena. Poor stuff, of course, but Madouc must still marry the lummox who submits such an article."
Madouc tossed her head. "I am not so pliable as you might like to think."
Devonet spoke with grave concern. "I will counsel you! Be meek, modest and patient! Yield gracefully to the king's commands! It is not only your duty; it is also the way of prudence. That is my reasoned advice."
Madouc listened with no great attention. "Naturally, you must do as you think proper."
"One word more! The king has declared that if you cark or pout, or attempt to avoid his fiat, he will simply give you off into servitude!"
Chlodys turned to Madouc, who sat stolidly eating raisin pudding. "And what do you say to that?"
"Nothing."
"But what will you do?"
"You shall see."
VII
On the second day of the festival King Milo and Queen Caudabil were aroused early from their beds and allowed only a quick breakfast of curds and groats so that they might be on hand to call out the start to the tug-of-war between the members of the Fishmonger's Guild and the Stonemason's Guild.
Madouc was also up early, before Lady Vosse could communicate the wishes of Queen Sollace. Madouc went directly out to the stables. This fine bright morning she found Sir Pom-Pom forking manure from the stalls into a barrow. "Sir Pom-Pom!" called Madouc. "Step outside, if you please, where the air is less thick."
"You must wait your turn," said Sir Pom-Pom. "The barrow is
full and I must wheel it out to the dungheap. Then I will be able to give you a moment or two."
Madouc compressed her lips but waited in silence until Sir Pom-Pom, with measured deliberation, put aside the barrow and came out into the stable-yard. "Whatever your whims, you may no longer count upon me for their fulfillment," said Pom-Pom.
Madouc spoke severely: "Your conduct seems surly and gruff! I would not like to think you a boor. Why do you speak so brusquely?"
Sir Pom-Pom gave a bark of curt laughter. "Hah! It is simple enough. Have you not heard the king's proclamation?"
"I have indeed."
"I have heard it as well. Tomorrow I relinquish my post as royal stable-attendant and lackey to the princess. On the following day I will seize time by the forelock and go in search of the Holy Grail, or any other relic I can lay my hands upon. It may well be the opportunity of my lifetime."
Madouc gave a slow nod. "I understand your ambition. But is it not sad that you must give up your good and secure employment to go out chasing a will-o'-the-wisp? To me it seems an act of reckless folly."
"So it may be," said Sir Pom-Pom doggedly. "Still, such chances for fame and fortune come rarely. One must grasp them as they pass."
"Quite so. Still, I might help you have the best of both worlds were you to moderate your churlish behavior."
Sir Pom-Pom looked around in cautious interest. "How so and to what degree?"
"You must swear to hold secret what I am about to tell you."
"Hm. Will this secret involve me in trouble?"
"I think not."
"Very well. I will hold my tongue. I have done so before and I suppose I can do so again."
"Listen then! The king has ordered me to go forth in search of my pedigree, and without delay. Admittedly he was in a state of exasperation when he spoke, but his orders were explicit, and included the service of a suitable escort. Therefore, I command that you serve me in this capacity. If you obey, you will retain your employment and still be able to seek the Holy Grail."
Sir Pom-Pom squinted off into the sunlight. "The proposition, on the surface, seems reasonable. Still, what if our quests lead in different directions?"
Madouc brushed aside the objection. "Why borrow trouble? Obviously we cannot anticipate every quirk of Fate before we have even made our preparations."
Sir Pom-Pom put on a stubborn frown. "I still feel that we should agree on a plan."
"Tush," said Madouc. "More than likely, the question will never arise. If so, we shall deal with it then and there."
"All this to the side," growled Sir Pom-Pom, "I would feel easier if I had definite orders from the mouth of the king himself."
Madouc gave her head a decisive shake. "I have been granted leave to go, with no restrictions; that is enough. I do not want to re-open the discussion and risk some foolish qualification."
Sir Pom-Pom turned a dubious glance over his shoulder. "It is true that I have long-standing orders to attend you wherever you ride, and they have never been revoked. If I choose to retain my employment, the king has charged me to follow where you go, and serve you as best I may. When do you wish to depart?"
"Tomorrow morning."
"Impossible! It is already late in the day; I will not be able to make the preparations!"
"Very well. We will leave on the morning of the day after tomorrow, half an hour before dawn. Have Tyfer saddled and ready, and also a horse for yourself."
"Now then," said Sir Pom-Pom, "we must think clearly in this regard. Even though you claim that His Majesty has given you leave to go off on this venture, is it possible that he might have spoken in haste, or that he might change his mind?"
"Anything is possible," said Madouc haughtily. "I cannot trouble myself with every swing of the weathercock."
"What if he suddenly discovers that his beloved Madouc is missing and sends off his knights and his heralds to bring her back? They would have an easy time of it if you were mounted on the dappled pony Tyfer, with the costly saddle and fringed reins. No, Princess! We must ride as might the children of peasants; our horses must attract no attention; otherwise we may well be home and in disgrace long before we arrive even so far as Frogmarsh."
Madouc tried to argue that Tyfer, with his dappled coat, was of a sort to blend among the shadows of a landscape and was hence inconspicuous, but Sir Pom-Pom would hear nothing of it. "I will select the proper mounts; you need think no more on the subject."
"If that is how it must be, so shall it be," said Madouc. "Still, you must pack the saddlebags well, with bread, cheese, dried fish, raisins, olives and wine. You will obtain these victuals from the royal pantry, which you will enter by crawling through the back window, as you well know through long experience. Bring weapons, or at least a knife to cut cheese and an axe to hew wood. Do you have any questions?"
"What of money? We cannot go skiting the countryside over without good silver coins."
"I will carry three gold pieces in my wallet. This should amply suffice for our needs."
"So it should, were we able to spend them."
"The gold is good round gold, soft and yellow, even though it derived from Shimrod."
"Of that I have no doubt, but how will you spend such gold? To buy a wisp of hay for the horses? Or a plate of beans for our own nourishment? Who would give us back our proper exchange? They might well take us for thieves and clap us into the nearest dungeon."
Madouc looked off across the stable-yard. "I had not considered along these lines. What must be done?"
Sir Pom-Pom made a wise signal. "Luckily, I know how to deal with the problem. Fetch here your three gold pieces, as soon as possible."
"Oh?" Madouc raised her eyebrows in puzzlement. "What then?"
"It so happens that I need a pair of boots, stout and proper, flared at the knee after the new mode, each with a suitable buckle. I will purchase the boots, which are needful for the journey, and I will pay with a gold piece. The cobbler must provide the exchange in silver and copper, which then we may use for our expenses."
Madouc glanced at the buskins currently worn by Sir Pom Pom. "You seem adequately shod."
"Still, we ride abroad, and must maintain our dignity!"
"What is the cost of these elegant new boots?"
"A silver form!" blurted Sir Pom-Pom in scorn. "Is it really so much when one demands both style and quality?"
Madouc heaved a sigh. "I suppose not. What of the other two gold pieces?"
"Have no fear! I will contrive a plan which will serve our purposes! But you must bring me the gold at once, that I may start negotiations!"
"As you wish, but work to good effect! We must leave Haidion before something happens to change our plans!"
Sir Pom-Pom, still dubious in regard to the venture, looked around the stable-yard. "Where will be our first destination?"
"We go first to Thripsey Shee, where I will take counsel with my mother."
Sir Pom-Pom gave a grudging nod. "She might even have news of the Holy Grail."
"That is possible."
"So be it!" declared Sir Pom-Pom with sudden energy. "I am not one to ignore the call of Destiny!"
"Brave words, Sir Pom-Pom! I am of like mind."
Sir Pom-Pom turned Madouc a sly and waggish grin. "If I win the boon, I will then be entitled to wed the royal princess!"
Madouc pursed her lips against a smile. "I do not know about that. But surely you would be received at court, where you could choose a spouse from among my maids-in-waiting."
"First I must possess myself of the Grail," said Sir Pom- Pom. "Then I will make my own choice. But as of this moment, fetch the gold, and I will see to my business."
Madouc ran at speed to her chambers. She brought out the three gold coins from a secret place under her bed and took them to the stables. Sir Pom-Pom hefted their weight, examined them on both sides, bit upon them and at last was satisfied.
"Now I must run down into town for my boots. When you make ready, dress as a peasant. You can n
ot safely go abroad as the proud Princess Madouc."
"Very well! I will meet you at the appointed time. Take care not to get caught in the pantry!"
As Madouc returned to her chambers she was accosted by Lady Vosse, who spoke in sharp tones: "Where have you been? Are you devoid of all sense of duty?"
Madouc looked up in wonder, mouth innocently adroop. "What have I done this time?"
"Surely you remember! I instructed you myself! You must remain in attendance upon our guests! That is proper etiquette. It is also the wish of the queen."
"It is the queen who invited these folk here, not I," grumbled Madouc. "Go rouse the queen from her own bed."
Lady Vosse stood back, momentarily at a loss for words. Then, rallying, she subjected Madouc to an examination, nose drawn up in distaste. "Your gown is soiled and you reek of horse! I might have known that you were at the stables! Quick then! To your chamber and into something fresh-perhaps your new blue frock. Come now, on the run! There is no time to waste!"
Ten minutes later Madouc and Lady Vosse arrived on the platform, where King Milo and Queen Caudabil were observing the stone-throw competition, though with little attention.
As noon approached, stewards began to set out a collation of cold beef and cheese on a trestle at the back of the platform, so that King Milo and Queen Caudabil could enjoy the sports with no interruption for a full-scale repast. Taking note of these preparations, Milo and Caudabil conferred in low voices, then Milo suddenly clutched his side and set up a hollow groaning.
Queen Caudabil called out to Sir Mungo the Seneschal: "Alas! King Milo has suffered a seizure! It is his old complaint! We will be unable to enjoy any more games and competitions! He must retire at once to our quarters for rest and proper treatment!"
Once in their chambers, Queen Caudabil ordered in a repast of eight courses and a sufficiency of good wine, which she declared was the best possible tonic for King Milo.