Elder Isles - Madouc Part 10

Ca.s.sander spoke in fulsome tones. "I see before me, not a wild-eyed scalawag escaping a dogfight, but a royal princess of delicacy and grace! Indeed, you are almost pretty."

Madouc gave a wry laugh. "It is not my fault. They dressed me w.i.l.l.y-filly, so that I might be fit for the cotillion."

"And that is so inglorious?"

"Not altogether, since I will not be there."

"Aha! You run grave risks! Lady Desdea will be rigid with vexation!"

"She must learn to be more reasonable. If she likes dancing, well and good; it is all the same to me. She may jig, jerk, kick high in the air and jump in a circle, so long as I may do other wise. That is reasonable conduct!"

"But it is not the way things go! Everyone must learn to act properly; no one is exempt, not even I."

"Why, then, are you not at the cotillion, sweating and hopping with the others?"

"I have had my share of it-never fear! It is now your turn."

"I will have none of it, and this is what Lady Desdea must get through her head."

Ca.s.sander chuckled. "Such mutiny might easily earn you another beating."

Madouc gave her head a scornful toss. "No matter! I shall utter not a sound, and they will quickly tire of their sport."

Ca.s.sander uttered a bark of laughter. "Wrong, in every respect! I discussed this same topic only last week with Tanchet the under-torturer. He states that voluble types who instantly screech and blubber and make horrid noises-these are the ones who fare the best, since the torturer is quickly satisfied that his job has been well and truly done. Take my advice! A few shrill screams and a convulsion or two might save your skin a whole medley of tingles!"

"This bears thinking about," said Madouc.

"Or-from a different perspective-you might try to be mild and meek, and avoid the beatings altogether."

Madouc gave her head a dubious shake. "My mother, the Princess Suldrun, was mild and meek, but failed to escape an awful penalty-which the poor creature never deserved. That is my opinion."

Ca.s.sander spoke in measured tones: "Suldrun disobeyed the king's command, and had only herself to blame."

"Nevertheless, it seems very harsh treatment to visit upon one's own dear daughter."

Ca.s.sander was not comfortable with the topic. "Royal justice is not for us to question."

Madouc gave Ca.s.sander a cool appraisal. He frowned down at her. "Why do you stare at me so?"

"Someday you will be king."

"That well may be-later, so I hope, rather than sooner. I am in no haste to rule."

"Would you treat your daughter in such a fas.h.i.+on?"

Ca.s.sander pursed his lips. "I would do what I thought to be correct and kingly."

"And if I were still unmarried, would you try to wed me to some fat bad-smelling prince, so as to make me miserable the rest of my life?"

Ca.s.sander gave an exclamation of annoyance. "Why ask such pointless questions? You will be of age long before I wear the crown. Your marriage will be arranged by someone other than me."

"Small chance of that," said Madouc under her breath.

"I did not hear your remark."

"No matter. Do you often visit the old garden where my mother died?"

"I have not done so for years."

"Take me there now."

"Now? When you should be at the cotillion?"

"No time could be more convenient."

Ca.s.sander looked toward the palace, and seeing no one, gave a flippant wave of the hand. "I should stand aloof from your vagaries! Still, at the moment I have nothing better to do. Come then, while Lady Desdea is yet dormant. I do not take kindly to complaints and reproaches."

Madouc said wisely: "I have learned the best response. I feign a blank stupid perplexity, so that they weary themselves with explanations, and forget all else."

"Ah Madouc, you are a crafty one! Come then, before we are apprehended."

The two set off up the cloistered way toward Zoltra Bright- Star's Wall: up past the orangery, through the wall itself by a dank pa.s.sage and out upon the parade ground at the front of the Peinhador: a place known as 'The Urquial'. To the right, the wall veered sharply to the south; in the angle, a thicket of larch and juniper concealed a decaying postern of black timber.

Ca.s.sander, already beset by second thoughts, pushed through the thicket, cursing the brambles and the drift of pollen from the larches. He thrust at the postern and grunted at the recalcitrance of the sagging timbers. Putting his shoulder to the wood, he heaved hard; with a dismal groaning of corroded iron hinges the postern swung open. Ca.s.sander gave a grim nod of triumph for his victory over the obstacle. He beckoned to Madouc. "Behold! The secret garden!"

The two stood at the head of a narrow vale, sloping down to a little crescent of beach. At one time the garden had been land scaped after the cla.s.sic Arcadian style, but now grew rank and wild with trees and shrubs of many sorts: oak, olive, laurel, bay and myrtle; hydrangea, heliotrope, asphodel, vervane, purple thyme. Halfway down to the beach a clutter of marble blocks and a few standing columns indicated the site of an ancient Roman villa. The single whole structure to be seen was near at hand: a small chapel, now dank with lichen and the odor of wet stone.

Ca.s.sander pointed to the stone chapel. "That is where Suldrun took shelter from the weather. She spent many lonely nights in that small place."

He gave his head a wry shake. "And also a few nights not so lonely, which cost her dear in grief and sorrow."

Madouc blinked at the tears which had come to her eyes and turned away. Ca.s.sander said gruffly: "The events are many years gone; one should not mourn forever."

Madouc looked down the long descent of the garden. "It was my mother, whom I never knew, and it was my father, who was put in a hole to die! How can I forget so easily?"

Ca.s.sander shrugged. "I don't know. I can only a.s.sure you that your emotion is wasted. Do you wish to see more of the garden?"

"Let us follow the path and find where it leads."

"It goes here and there, and finally down to the beach. Suldrun whiled away her days paving the path with pebbles from the beach. Rains have undone the path; there is little to show for her work-or her life, for that matter."

"Except me."

"Except you! A notable accomplishment, to be sure!"

Madouc ignored the jocularity, which she found to be in rather poor taste.

Ca.s.sander said thoughtfully, "For a fact, you are not at all like her. Evidently, you resemble your father, whoever or what ever he might have been."