The Stolen Lake Part 13

'Perhaps you are right.' But still the queen looked at Dido; as if she found it hard to let her go. It was a covetous, greedy stare; it made Dido quite fidgety.

'If I could jist have that permit, Your Royals.h.i.+p,' she said politely, 'I'd be on my way.'

'Permit, what permit?' demanded Ettarde sharply. 'You would not send the child by the Pa.s.s -'

But now there came another interruption: shouts of 'Make way, make way there, for the Queen's Soothsayer!'

To Dido's amazement, who should come walking forward but Bran.

He had changed from the shabby clothes in which Dido had last seen him to a stiff taffeta gaberdine gown, striped in red and black, richly lined with fur. His long white hair flowed smoothly back over the collar; on his high, thoughtful brow he wore a square black cap. The white bird sat motionless on his shoulder. Both of them looked extremely dignified.

But, as he approached the queen, Bran surprisingly burst into song, and carolled, in a manner that seemed highly inappropriate and carefree: 'Eating a nuncheon

All by myself

Isn't much fun;

But when it's with you

Any old stew,

Any ragout

Would do!

When it's with you, it's a whizz

Who cares a fig what it is?

Going upstairs

All on my own

Isn't much fun

But when it's with you

Any venue

Would do!

Just name a rendezvous . . .

When it's with you, it's a treat

Who gives a hoot where we meet?'

The queen, Dido observed, looked quite startled, even alarmed, at these words; in fact her expression, as Bran approached, seemed a mixture of pleasure and apprehension, as if he were a much-respected teacher who was almost certain to find fault with her, but who was able to tell her secrets that she could find out nowhere else.

Lady Ettarde, on the other hand, seemed wholly put out at Bran's arrival; her brow grew dark and she muttered something furious under her breath. As for the two a.s.sistants, they let out faint whimpers of distress and slipped away into the shadows.

The queen greeted Bran in a rallying tone as he bowed slightly.

'Well, my soothsayer? Why have you been absent from our presence for so long? Where did you go, and what have you been doing?'

'Oh,' he answered rather vaguely, 'I have been wandering here and there about Your Grace's dominions, to and fro, up and down. Today I was in the silver-mines; I brought this for you,' and from a pouch slung at his girdle he produced a great chunk of rough sapphire, as large as a brick. Even Lady Ettarde let out a squeak of admiration.

'You could make yourself an hour-gla.s.s from it, or some such thing,' Bran said carelessly.

The lump was so heavy that the queen could only just hold it in her weak puffy hands. After turning it about to catch the blue gleams of light, she let it roll to the ground. 'Why should I want an hour-gla.s.s?' she demanded pettishly. 'The hours go slowly enough as it is. Tell me a story, Bran, to while away the time.'

'I should have thought your time pa.s.sed pleasantly enough,' observed Bran. 'You have company.'

His eyes rested on Dido, but she was surprised to see that he gave no hint of recognition. On the point of greeting him, she changed her mind.

'Company, oh yes,' said the queen coolly. 'But your stories are better than all. Because one day you will tell me that the king has returned, and it will be true.'

'Meanwhile I will tell you a story that I heard in the silver-mines.'

The queen settled herself comfortably to listen. Lady Ettarde, like a monkey, hopped up on to the couch, and began carefully brus.h.i.+ng Ginevra's hair with a silver brush.

'There was once a poet who worked in the silver-mines,' said Bran. 'He kept a c.o.c.katoo, which he daily left in his house while he was working in the pit.' Bran stroked the white bird that sat so still on his shoulder. 'But one night the poet dreamed that the bird had picked up his heart (which he took out every night before he went to sleep, and hung on a stand by his bed); the bird had taken his heart in its claws, and flown up the chimney, carrying his heart with it. Next morning when the poet woke up, sure enough, the bird was up the chimney, and he had to go to work in the mine leaving it there. He told his dream to the companion who worked in the same gallery with him. But that afternoon the gallery roof caved in, and the poet was killed. His mate escaped. But now, the miners say, n.o.body will live in the poet's empty cottage, because his dream is still up the chimney.'

'His dream, or the bird with his heart?' asked the queen.

'His dream, his bird, his heart; they are all the same.'

'What does the story mean, soothsayer?'

'It is a true story; so you may choose your own meaning for it, Ma'am. Now, are you going to give that child her permit to climb Mount Damyake and go to Lyonesse?' Bran asked without any change of tone. Dido was very much startled.

'Oh do you really think I should? Very well very well; in a minute or two; there's no hurry,' said the queen petulantly, jerking her head, so that Lady Ettarde gave a smothered exclamation and nearly dropped the hairbrush. 'Bran dear Bran,' the queen went on, 'can't you give me any news? Any hope? No matter how faint? How far-distant?'

'All I can tell you, lady, is that it will be this year. When I know more more shall be told you. If there weren't such a lot of cobwebs and shrunken heads in this palace,' Bran said his tone was not critical, merely matter-of-fact 'I might be able to see further.'

The queen appeared to ignore this remark. After a moment or two she said, 'Well. . . another story, then!'

Bran sighed a little, as if he found the request tiresome, hut he thought for a minute and then said rapidly, 'A man called Ianto was walking across the town to his place of work when, looking down, he saw a gold-and-diamond necklace lying on the cobbles. "That cannot be real gold," he thought. "It must be worthless, or someone else would have picked it up already," and so he left it lying and went on. But, when he was halfway across the town, waiting to cross a busy street, he looked down and saw the same necklace, or one just like it, lying in the roadway. "The Civil Guard are laying police traps for me," he thought. "If I pick it up, one of them is sure to jump out of a doorway and accuse me of intending to steal it." So he left the necklace lying where it was, and crossed the street. But when he came to his place of work, there, in front of the entrance, he saw what appeared to be the selfsame necklace, lying in the dust. "Well," thought Ianto, "now I know it must be meant for me. It is my destiny to have this necklace." So he picked it up. And it turned into a snake and bit him.'

'Well, really!' exclaimed the queen indignantly. 'What kind of a story is that? What are we to make of such a tale? Did the man die?'

'He was a doctor,' Bran said, 'and his place of work was a hospital, so he was able to treat himself with snake-antidote. He was ill, but he did not die. And from his adventure he learned that, if life has a necklace for you, or a snake, you may as well take it the first time, for it is sure to come back sooner or later.'

So saying, Bran presented the queen with a gold-and-diamond necklace, which he drew from his pouch. She accepted it, half-laughing, half-nervous.

'Will it turn into a snake and bite me?'

'No, Ma'am; it is only dust; yellow dust and sparkling dust. A snake would be worth much more.'

'Why?' demanded the queen, as Lady Ettarde clasped the chain round her throat.

'A snake is alive. Each live creature is unique. Take its life, and something is gone for ever. But stones have no life, no ident.i.ty. You cannot kill a stone.'

An odd silence followed Bran's words. After quite a long pause the queen said irritably, 'But if he picked up the necklace the first time, his life might not have been saved. What was it that you wanted me to do? Oh, I recall a permit for the girl. Where are my tablets? Asclabor!'

A chamberlain came forward, bowed and offered her writing-materials. She scribbled on a sc.r.a.p of parchment, the attendant dropped hot wax on it, then the queen pressed her signet-ring on the wax.

'There you are, child! I am sure I do not know what all this fuss is about. Run along be off make yourself scarce. Gracious knows why you have been bothering me for so long.'

Dido took the signed and sealed parchment. She would have liked to make some retort, but prudence withheld her. She curtseyed and turned to go, noticing that Lady Ettarde's a.s.sistants, halfway along the hall, were moving un.o.btrusively towards the entrance.

'I will escort the child to her companions,' said Bran.

'No! Stay and tell me more tales!' said the queen.

'In a moment, Highness; I will tell you the story of the sailor who dropped his anchor down a well. In one moment I will return.'

With two rapid limping steps Bran overtook Dido, and walked beside her down the length of the hall and round the curving gallery. Dido noticed that all the officials they met bowed to Bran very respectfully. None of them approached him.

'I liked that story about the bird, Mister,' said Dido. 'Did it happen to you?'

'Why should you think so?'

He began levering himself down the stairs by the marble handrail.

'Because I dunno! I just thought it might! Hey, there's Lieutenant Windward and Mr Mully. I thought they mighta got tired o' waiting and gone home.' Dido flourished the ribboned permit joyfully at her companions, and called, 'I got it, all right and tight!'