Elder Isles - Madouc Part 82

"Why not! Kylas will surely not come to seek me among the 'Dead G.o.ds'."

The under-chamberlain took Madouc into the Court of Dead G.o.ds. "See yonder! There stands Cron the Unknowable, across from his terrible spouse Hec, the G.o.ddess of Fate. For a game they created the difference between 'yes' and 'no'; then, once again becoming bored, they ordained the distinction between 'something' and 'nothing'. When these diversions palled, they opened their hands and through their fingers let trickle matter, time, s.p.a.ce and light, and at last they had created enough to hold their interest."

"All very well," said Madouc. "But where did they learn this intricate lore?"

"Aha!" said the under-chamberlain wisely. "That is where the mystery begins! When theologians are asked as to the source of Cron and Hec, they pull at their beards and change the subject. It is certainly beyond my understanding. We know for a fact that only Cron and Hec are father and mother to all the rest. There you see Atlante, there Gaea; there is Fantares, there Aeris. These are the divinities of water, earth, fire and air. Apollo the Glorious is G.o.d of the Sun; Drethre the Beautiful is G.o.ddess of the Moon. There you see Fluns, Lord of Battles; facing him is Palas, G.o.ddess of the Harvest. Finally: Adace and Aronice stand in opposition, as well they might! For six months of each year Adace is the G.o.d of Pain, Cruelty and Evil, while Aronice is the G.o.ddess of Love and Kindness. At the time of the equinoxes they change roles and for the next six months, Adace is the G.o.d of Bravery, Virtue and Clemency, while Aronice is the G.o.ddess of Spite, Hatred and Treachery. For this reason they are known as 'The Fickle Pair'."

"Ordinary folk change by the hour, or even by the minute," said Madouc. "By comparison, Adace and Aronice would seem to be steadfast. Still, I would not care to be a member of their household."

"That is an astute observation," said the under-chamberlain. He inspected her once again. "Am I mistaken, or might you be the distinguished Princess Madouc of Lyonesse?"

"So I am known, at least for the moment."

The under-chamberlain bowed. "You may know me as Tibalt, with the rank of esquire. I am happy to a.s.sist Your Highness! Please advise me if I may continue to be of service!"

Madouc asked: "From sheer curiosity, where is the table Cairbra an Meadhan?"

Tibalt, with a brave flourish, pointed his finger. "The portal yonder leads into the Hall of Heroes."

Madouc said: "You may conduct me to this hail, if you will."

"With pleasure."

A pair of men-at-arms, halberds at vertical rest, stood immobile by the portal; their eyes moved by not so much as a flicker at the approach of Madouc and Tibalt; the two pa.s.sed unchallenged into the Hall of Heroes.

Tibalt said: "This is the oldest part of Falu Ffail. No one knows who laid these great stones! You will have noticed that the chamber is circular and commands a diameter of thirty-three yards. And there is the Round Table: Cairbra an Meadhan!"

"So I see."

The total diameter is fourteen yards and eleven ells. The outer ring is five feet across, and is constructed of rock elm laid on oak timbers, leaving a central opening about eleven yards in diameter."

Tibalt conducted Madouc around the table. "Notice the bronze plaques: they name paladins of long past ages, and indicate their places at the table."

Madouc bent to study one of the plaques. "The characters are of archaic style, but legible. This one reads: 'Here sits Sir Gahun of Hack, fierce as the north wind and relentless in battle.'

Tibalt was impressed. "You are adept in the skill of reading! But then, that is the prerogative of a princess!"

"True enough," said Madouc. "Still, many common folk can do as well, if they apply themselves. I recommend the sleight to you; it is not so hard after the many peculiar shapes become familiar."

"Your Highness has inspired me!" declared Tibalt. "I will begin to master this skill at once. Now then!" Tibalt pointed across the chamber. "There you see Evandig, the Throne of the Elder Kings. We stand in the presence of the mighty! It is said that once each year their ghosts gather in this hall to renew old friends.h.i.+ps. And now what? Will you see more of this hall? It is a trifle gloomy, and used only at state occasions."

"Will it be used during the present colloquy?"

"Definitely so!"

"Where will King Casmir sit, and where King Aillas and Prince Dhrun?"

"As to this, I am ignorant; it is in the province of the seneschal and the heralds. Will you see any more?"

"No, thank you."

Tibalt led Madouc back through the portai and into the Court of Dead G.o.ds. From the reception chamber came the sound of many voices.

Tibalt spoke in agitation: "Excuse me, please; I am absent from my post! Someone has arrived and I would suspect it to be Prince Dhrun with his escort!"

Tibalt ran off with Madouc following close behind. She entered the reception hall to discover Prince Dhrun and three Troice dignitaries in the company of King Audry, along with the Princes Dorcas, Whemus and Jaswyn, and the two princesses, Cloire and Mahaeve. Madouc sidled through the press of courtiers, hoping to approach Dhrun, but without success; he and his company were led away by King Audry.

Madouc slowly returned to her own rooms. She found Kylas sitting stonily in the parlour.

Kylas spoke in clipped tones: "When I returned from your errand, you were gone. Where did you go?"

"That is beside the point," said Madouc. "You must not trouble yourself with details of this nature."

"It is my duty to attend you," said Kylas stubbornly.

"When I require your a.s.sistance, I will notify you. As for now, you may retire to your own quarters."

Kylas rose to her feet. "I will be back presently. A maid has been a.s.signed to your service and will help you dress for the evening banquet; the queen has suggested that I help you select a suitable gown from your wardrobe."

"That is nonsense," said Madouc. "I need no advice. Do not return until I summon you."

Kylas stalked from the room.

Madouc dressed early, and after only a moment's indecision chose the gown of Black Rose velvet. She left early and alone for the Great Hall, where she hoped to find Dhrun before the start of the banquet. Dhrun was not on hand. Prince Jaswyn, Audry's third son, a dark-haired youth fifteen years old, came forward and escorted her to a place at the table beside his own, with Prince Raven of Pomperol to her other side.

Dhrun at last appeared, and was conducted to a seat across the table and six places to the side. He had changed from his travel garments to an indigo blue doublet and white s.h.i.+rt-a simple costume which nicely set off his clear complexion and neat cap of dark blond hair. He noticed Madouc and waved his hand, but thereafter was held close in conversation by the Princess Cloire; and in the intervals when she relaxed her attention, by Queen Linnet of Pomperol.

The banquet proceeded, course by course; Madouc presently stopped eating or even tasting from the dishes tendered by the stewards. The four goblets before her contained two sorts of red wine, a soft white wine and a tart green wine; they were filled and refilled every time Madouc sipped, and she soon desisted, lest her head start to spin. Prince Jaswyn was an entertaining dinner companion, as was Prince Raven, youngest son to King Kestrel and brother to the egregious Bittern, who had not come to Avallon by reason of a rheum and an asthma. On several occasions Madouc discovered Queen Sollace's frosty gaze fixed upon her, but pretended not to notice.

King Audry at last rose to his feet, signalling the end of the banquet. Soft music of lutes and rebecs at once began to issue from the adjacent ballroom. Madouc made hurried excuses to Prince Jaswyn and Prince Raven, slipped from her chair and ran to circle the table, so that she might approach Dhrun. She was first impeded by Prince Whemus, who wished to compliment her and to initiate a conversation. As quickly and politely as possible, Madouc detached herself, but now, when she looked, Dhrun was nowhere to be seen. Ah, there he was, on the other side of the table! Madouc retraced her steps, only to meet Kylas, who brought an urgent message, which she transmitted with poorly suppressed satisfaction. "Queen Sollace finds your gown unsatisfactory."

"She is mistaken! You may tell her that I am quite satisfied with it."

"It is the queen who is not satisfied. She thinks the gown unsuitable for a person of your years and lack of experience. She wishes that you and I repair to your chambers, where I am to help you select a gown more modest and youthful. Come; we must go at once."

Madouc spoke tersely: "I regret that the queen is displeased, but I am sure that you have misunderstood her instructions. She would hardly expect me to change clothes now. Excuse me, and do not approach me again." Madouc tried to sidle past, but Kylas stood in her way. "You have heard the queen's instruc tions! There has been no mistake!"

Madouc restrained her vexation with an effort. "Explain to the queen that it would be most inconvenient for me to change clothes now, especially as this gown is quite suitable."

"Not altogether."

"In any event, stand aside; there is someone with whom I wish to speak!"

"Who might it be?"

"Really, Kylas! Your question serves no purpose!" Madouc dodged past, only to discover that Dhrun again was lost in the slow circulation of grandees and courtiers.

Madouc went to the side of the chamber. She looked right and left, searching from individual to individual. Overhead a thousand candle flames in five candelabra enriched a thousand colors in the flux of fabric below: rose-madder and saffron; steel-blue and moss-green; lemon-white, maroon, umber and rose-pink; also the twinkle of silver and the glow of gold, and everywhere the glitter of jewels. Faces swam in the candlelight like wan jellyfish in a luminous tide: faces of all kinds, each a symbol for the soul it concealed! But none, either to right or to left, was the face of Dhrun!