by Jack Vance
"I have no taste for Duke Carfilhiot."
"Tush. In marriage all things alter. You may come to dote on him; then you will laugh to think of your foolish whims. Now then—off with your clothes! Heigh ho! Think how it will be when Duke Carfilhiot gives the command! Sosia! Where is that flibbet of a maid? Sosia! Brush the princess's hair, a hundred strokes to either side. Tonight it must glisten like a river of gold!"
At the supper Suldrun tried to achieve an impersonal manner. She tasted a morsel of stewed pigeon; she drank half a glass of pale wine. When remarks were addressed to her she responded politely, but clearly her thoughts were elsewhere. Once, looking up, she met Carfilhiot's gaze, and for a moment stared into his lambent eyes like a fascinated bird.
She shifted her gaze and broodingly studied her plate. Carfilhiot was undeniably gallant, brave and handsome: Why then her antipathy? She knew her instincts to be accurate. Carfilhiot was involuted; his mind teemed with strange rancors and peculiar inclinations. Words entered her mind as if from another source: For Carfilhiot beauty was not to be cherished and loved, but something to be plundered and hurt.
The ladies left for the queen's drawing-room; Suldrun quickly ran off to her own chambers.
Early in the morning a brief rain swept in from the sea, to wash the greenery and settle the dust. By midmorning the sun shone through broken clouds, and sent hurrying shadows across the city. Lady Desdea arrayed Suldrun in a white gown with a white surcoat, embroidered in pink, yellow and green; and a small white cap inside a golden diadem studded with garnets.
On the terrace, four precious rugs had been laid end to end, from Haidion's ponderous main entrance to a table draped with heavy white linen. Antique silver vases four feet tall overflowed with white roses; the table supported the sacred chalice of the Lyonesse kings: a silver vessel a foot tall, carved with characters no longer intelligible to Lyonesse.
As the sun rose toward noon, dignitaries began to appear, wearing ceremonial robes and ancient emblems.
At noon Queen Sollace arrived. She was escorted by King Casmir to her throne. Behind came Duke Carfilhiot, escorted bv Duke Tandre of Sondbehar.
A moment passed. King Casmir looked toward the door, where the Princess Suldrun should now be appearing, on the arm of her aunt, the Lady Desdea. Instead, he glimpsed only a flutter of agitated motion. Presently he noted the beckoning arm of Lady Desdea.
King Casmir rose from the throne and strode back to the palace where Lady Desdea stood gesturing in confusion and bewilderment.
King Casmir looked around the foyer, then turned back to Lady Desdea. "Where is Princess Suldrun? Why do you cause this undignified delay?"
Lady Desdea blurted an explanation: "She was ready! She stood there beautiful as an angel. I led the way downstairs; she followed. I went along the gallery, and 1 had a strange feeling! I stopped and turned to look, and she stood there, pale as a lily. She called out something, but I could not quite hear; I think she said: ‘I cannot! No, I cannot!' And then she was gone, out the side door and away up under the arcade! I called after her, to no avail. She would not look back!"
King Casmir turned and walked out on the terrace. He halted, looked around the half-circle of questioning faces. He spoke in a harsh monotone. "I beg the indulgence of those now assembled. The Princess Suldrun has suffered indisposition. The ceremony will not proceed. A collation has been laid out; please partake as you wish."
King Casmir turned and reentered the palace, Lady Desdea stood to the side, hair in disorder, arms hanging like ropes.
King Casmir inspected her for five seconds, then stalked from the palace. Up the arcade, under Zoltra Bright Star's Wall, through the timber gate and down into the old garden, he strode. Here Suldrun sat, on a fallen column, elbows on knees and chin in her hands.
King Casmir halted twenty feet behind her. Slowly Suldrun looked around, eyes wide, mouth drooping.
King Casmir said: "You have come to this place in defiance of my command."
Suldrun nodded. "1 did so: yes."
"You have marred the dignity of Duke Carfilhiot in a manner which can know no mitigation."
Suldrun's mouth moved, but no words came. King Casmir spoke on.
"For frivolous whim you have come here rather than in dutiful obedience to the place required by my command. Therefore, remain in this place, both night and day, until the great hurt you have done me is assuaged, or until you are dead. If you depart either boldly or by stealth, you shall be slave to whomever first lays claim to you, be he knight or peasant, loon or vagabond; no matter! You shall be his thing."
King Casmir turned, climbed the path, passed through the gate which closed hard behind him.
Suldrun turned slowly, face blank and almost serene. She looked out to sea, where rays of sunlight shot through gaps in the clouds and down at the water.
King Casmir found a silent group awaiting him on the terrace. He looked this way and that. "Where is Duke Carfilhiot?"
Duke Tandre of Sondbehar came forward. "Sire, upon your departure he waited one minute. Then he called for his horse, and with his company he rode from Haidion."
"What said he?" cried King Casmir. "Gave he no notice of any kind?"
Duke Tandre responded, "Sire, he spoke no word."
King Casmir cast one terrible glance around the terrace, then turned and walked on long strides back into the palace Haidion.
King Casmir brooded for a week, then uttered an angry expletive and set himself to the composition of a letter. The final version read:
For The Notice Of
The Noble Duke Faude Carfilhiot
At Tintzin Fyral His Castle.
Noble Sir:
With difficulty I write these words, in reference to an incident which has given me great embarrassment. I can not properly apologize, since I am as much victim of the circumstances as yourself—perhaps even more. You suffered an affront which understandably caused you exasperation. Still, there is no doubt but what a dignity such as yours is proof against the vapours of a captious and silly maiden. On the other hand, I have lost the privilege of uniting our houses through a marital link. Despite all, I can convey my sorrow that this event occurred at Haidion and so, in this measure, marred my hospitality. I trust that in the generous breadth of your tolerance you will continue to look upon me as your friend and ally in mutual endeavors of the future.
With my best regards, I am
Casmir,
Lyonesse, the King.
An envoy carried the letter to Tintzin Fyral. In due course he returned with a response.
For The Attention Of His August Majesty Casmir, Of Lyonesse, The King.
Revered Sir:
Be assured that the emotions I derived from the incident to which you refer, while they arose within me—understandably I hope—like a storm, subsided almost as quickly, and left me embarrassed for the narrow verges of my forbearance. I agree that our personal association should in no way be compromised by the unpredictabilities of a young maiden's fancy. As always, you may rely upon my sincere respect and my great hope that your proper and legitimate ambitions may be realized. Whenever the wish comes upon you to see something of Vale Evander, be assured that I shall welcome the opportunity to extend to you the hospitality of Tintzin Fyral.
I remain in all amiability, Your friend, Carfilhiot.
King Casmir studied the letter with care. Carfilhiot apparently cherished no pangs of resentment; still, his declarations of good will, while hearty, might have gone somewhat further and been more specific.
Chapter 8
KING GRAXICE OF TROICINET was a man thin, grizzled and angular, abrupt of manner and notably terse until events went awry, whereupon he singed the air with expletives and curses. He had greatly desired a son and heir, but Queen Baudille gave him four daughters in succession, each born to the sound of Granice's furious complaints. The first daughter was Lorissa, the second Aethel, the third Ferniste, the fourth Byrin; then Baudille went barren and Granice's brother, Prince Arbam
et, became heir-presumptive to the throne. Granice's second brother, Prince Ospero, a man of complicated personality and somewhat frail constitution, not only lacked ambition to the throne but so disliked the flavor of court life with its formality and artificial circumstances, that he stayed almost reclusively at his manor Water-shade, at the center of the Ceald, Troicinet's inner plain. Ospero's spouse, Ainor, had died bearing his single son, Aillas, who in due course grew to be a strong broad-shouldered lad of middle stature, taut and sinewy rather than massive, with ear-length blond-brown hair and gray eyes.
Watershade occupied a pleasant place beside Janglin Water, a small lake with hills to the north and south and the Ceald stretching away to the west. Originally, Watershade had served to guard the Ceald, but three hundred years had passed since the last armed excursion through its gates, and the defenses had fallen into a state of picturesque disrepair. The armory was silent except for the forging of shovels and horseshoes; the drawbridge had not been raised within memory. The squat round towers of Watershade stood half in the water, half on the shore with trees overhanging the conical tiled roofs.
In the spring blackbirds flocked above the marsh and crows wheeled in the sky, calling "Caw! Caw! Caw!" across far distances. In the summer bees droned through the mulberry trees, and the air smelled of reeds and water-washed willow. At night cuckoos cried in the forest and in the morning brown trout and salmon struck at the bait almost as soon as it touched the water. Ospero, Aillas and their frequent guests took supper outdoors on the terrace and watched many a glorious sunset fade over Janglin Water. In fall the leaves turned color and the storehouses became chock-full with the yields of harvest. In winter fires burned in all the fireplaces and the white sunlight reflected in diamond sparkles from Janglin Water, while the salmon and trout lay close to the bottom and refused to strike at bait.
Ospero's temperament was poetic rather than practical. He took no great interest either in events at the royal palace Miraldra nor the war against Lyonesse. His bent was that of the scholar and antiquarian. For the education of Aillas he brought savants of high repute to Watershade; Aillas was instructed in mathematics, astronomy, music, geography, history and literature. Prince Ospero knew little of martial techniques, and delegated this phase of Aillas' education to Tauncy, his bailiff, a veteran of many campaigns. Aillas learned the use of bow, sword and that recondite art of the Galician bandits: knife-throwing. "This use of the knife," stated Tauncy, "is neither courteous nor knightly. It is, rather, the desperado's resource, a ploy of the man who must kill to survive the evening. The thrown knife suffices to a range of ten yards; beyond, the arrow excels. But in cramped conditions, a battery of knives is a most comfortable companion.
"Again, I prefer the small-sword to the heavy equipment favored by the mounted knight. With my small-sword I will maim a full-armored man in half a minute, or kill him if I choose. It is the supremacy of skill over brute mass. Here! Lift this two-hander, strike at me."
Aillas dubiously hefted the sword. "I fear that I might cut you in two parts."
"Stronger men than you have tried and who stands here to tell about it? So swing with a will!"
Aillas struck out; the blade was deflected. He tried once more; Tauncy wrenched and the sword flew from Aillas' hands. "Once more," said Tauncy. "See how it goes? Flick, slide, off, away! You may drive down the weapon with all your weight; I interpose, I twist! the sword leaves your grasp; I stab where your armor gaps; in goes the sword and out comes your life."
"That is a useful skill," said Aillas. "Especially against our chicken-thieves."
"Ha! you will not keep to Watershade all your days—not with the land at war. Leave the chicken-thieves to me. Now, to proceed. You are sauntering along the back streets of Avallon; you step into a tavern for a cup of wine. A great lummox claims that you have molested his wife; he takes up his cutlass and comes at you. So now! With your knife! Draw and throw! All in a single movement! You advance, pull your knife from the villain's neck, wipe it on his sleeve. If in fact you have molested the dead churl's wife, bid her begone! The episode has quite dampened your spirit. But you are attacked from another side by another husband. Quick!" So the lesson proceeded.
At the end, Tauncy said: "I consider the knife a most elegant weapon. Even apart from its efficacy, there is beauty in its flight, as it cleaves hard to its target; there is a spasm of pleasure as it strikes home deep and true."
In the springtime of his eighteenth year Aillas rode somberly forth from Watershade, never looking over his shoulder. The road took him beside the marshes which bordered the lake, across the Ceald and up through the hills to Green Man's Gap. Here Aillas turned to look back across the Ceald. Far in the distance, beside the glimmer of Janglin Water, a dark blot of trees concealed the squat towers of Watershade. Aillas sat a moment in contemplation of the dear familiar places he was leaving behind, and tears came to his eyes. Abruptly he reined his horse about, rode through the tree-shrouded gap and down Rundle River Valley.
Late in the afternoon he glimpsed the Lir ahead, and shortly before sunset arrived at Hag Harbor under Cape Haze. He went directly to the Sea Coral Inn where he was well-known to the landlord, and so was provided a good meal and a comfortable chamber for the night.
In the morning he rode westward along the coast road, and by early afternoon arrived at the city Domreis. He paused on the heights overlooking the city. The day was windy; the air seemed more than transparent, like a lens transmitting minute detail with clarity. Hob Hook, with a beard of foaming surf along its outer face, surrounded the harbor. At the base of Hob Hook stood Castle Miraldra, the seat of King Granice, with a long parapet extending to a lighthouse at the end of the hook. Originally a watch-tower, Miraldra, across the ages had been conjoined to an amazing complex of additions: halls, galleries, a dozen towers of apparently random mass and height.
Aillas rode down the hill, past the Palaeos, a temple sacred to Gaea, where a pair of twelve-year-old maidens in white kirtles tended a sacred flame. Aillas rode through the town, the hooves of his horse suddenly loud on the cobbled way. Past the docks, where a dozen ships were moored, past narrow-fronted shops and taverns, then out on the causeway to Castle Miraldra.
The outer walls loomed high above Aillas. They seemed almost unnecessarily massive and the entrance portal, flanked by a pair of barbicans, seemed disproportionately small. Two guards, wearing the dress maroon and gray of Miraldra with polished silver helmets and bright silver cuirasses, stood with halberds tilted at parade-rest. From the barbican Aillas was recognized; heralds blew a fanfare. The guards jerked the halberds into the erect "salute" position as Aillas passed through the portal.
In the courtyard Aillas dismounted and gave his horse over to a groom. Sir Este, the portly seneschal, coming to meet him, performed a gesture of surprise. "Prince Aillas! Have you come alone, without retinue?"
"By preference, Sir Este, 1 came alone."
Sir Este, who was notorious for his aphorisms, produced yet another comment upon the human condition: "Extraordinary that those who command the perquisites of place are those most ready to ignore them! It is as if the blessings of Providence are specious and notable only in their absence. Ah well, I refuse to speculate."
"You are well, I trust, and enjoying your own perquisites?"
"To the fullest! I have, you must know, this deep-seated fear that were I to neglect one of my little privileges, Providence might become peevish and whisk them away. Come now, 1 must see to your comfort. The king is away to Ardlemouth for the day; he inspects a new vessel which is said to be swift as a bird." He signaled to a footman. "Take Prince Aillas to his chamber, see to his bath and provide him garments suitable for the court." Late in the afternoon King Granice returned to Miraldra. Aillas met him in the grand hall; the two embraced. "And how goes the health of my good brother Ospero?"
"He ventures seldom from Watershade. The outer air seems to bite at his throat. He tires easily and goes to hard gasping, so that I fear for his life!"
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"All his years he has been frail! In any case, you seem sound enough!"
"Sir, you also seem to enjoy the best of health."
"True, lad, and I will share with you my little secret. Every day at this very hour I take a cup or two of good red wine. It enriches the blood, brightens the gaze, sweetens the breath and stiffens the frontal member. Magicians search high and low for the elixir of life, and they already hold it in their hands, if only they knew our little secret. Eh, lad?" And Granice clapped Aillas on the back. "Let us invigorate ourselves."
"With pleasure, sir."
Granice led the way into a parlor hung with banners, escutcheons and trophies of war. A fire blazed on the hearth; Granice warmed himself while a servant poured wine into silver cups.
Granice waved Aillas to a chair, and settled himself into a chair beside the fire. "I summoned you here for a reason. As a prince of the blood it is time that you acquainted yourself with affairs of state. The surest fact of this precarious existence is that one may never stand static. In this life everyone walks on ten-foot stilts; he must move and hop and cause an agitation; otherwise he topples. Fight or die! Swim or drown! Run or be trampled!" Granice drank down a cup of wine at a gulp.
"The placidity here at Miraldra then, is no more than an illusion?" Aillas suggested.
Granice gave vent to a grim chuckle. " ‘Placidity?' I know none of it. We are at war with Lyonesse and wicked King Casmir. It is the case of a small stopper holding back the contents of a tun. I will not recite the number of ships patrolling the Lyonesse coast; that number is a war secret, which Casmir's spies would be glad to learn, just as I would be glad to learn the number of Casmir's spies. They are everywhere, like flies in a barn. Just yesterday I hanged a pair, and their cadavers dangle high on Semaphore Hill. Naturally, I employ spies of my own. When Casmir launches a new ship I am notified, and my agents set it afire while it lies at dock, and Casmir gnashes his teeth to the gum. So goes the war: at a stalemate until the sluggish King Audry sees fit to intervene."