Elder Isles - Madouc Part 36

"Agreed!" said Lady Vosse. "She is no longer a young child, but a budding maiden, and now must observe the proprieties."

Madouc blew out her cheeks. "I do not like my hair pulled up so high that my eyes bulge. As for my clothes, I wear what is sensible! Why wear a fine gown to the stables only to drag the hem in manure?"

Queen Sollace spoke sharply: "In that case, you must avoid the stables! Do you see me roistering about among the horses, or Lady Vosse sitting familiarly by the dungheap? Of course not! We observe the gentilities of rank and place! As for your hair, Lady Vosse correctly wants to coif it in a fashionable style, and teach you courtly demeanour, so that the young gallants will not think you a freak when they meet you at a ball or a charade."

"They will not think me a freak, because I will not be present, either at ball or charade."

Queen Sollace stared fixedly at Madouc. "You will be on hand if you are so instructed. Soon there will be serious talk of betrothal, and you must appear to advantage. Always remember: you are Princess Madouc of Lyonesse and so you must seem."

"Precisely so!" said Madouc. "I am Princess Madouc, of high rank and authority! I have ordered a whisking for Lady Vosse. Let us see to it at this very moment!"

"Yes," said Queen Sollace grimly. "I shall see to it. Ermelgart, from the besom pluck me five long withes; let them be both stout and supple."

Ermelgart hastened to obey.

"Yes, these will do nicely," said Queen Sollace. "Now then, let us proceed to the whisking! Madouc! Come hither!"

"What for?"

Queen Sollace swished the whisk back and forth. "I am not keen for this sort of thing; it sets me in a sweat. Still, a task worth doing is worth doing well. Come hither, and remove your lower garments."

Madouc spoke in quavering tones: "I would feel foolish doing as you suggest. It is far more sensible to stand as far as possible from you and your whisk."

"Do you defy me?" bellowed Queen Sollace. She heaved herself to her feet. "I shall put this whisk to good use!" Throwing back her robe with a sweep of her heavy white arm, Sollace marched forward. Father Umphred, book of psalms dangling from his fingers, stood beaming; Lady Vosse sat straight and stern. Madouc looked right and left in despair. Once again in justice seemed ascendant, with everyone eager to crush her pride!

Madouc licked her lips, worked her fingers and uttered a soft hiss. Queen Sollace stood limp-kneed and quivering, mouth agape, arms shaking, fingers twitching so that the whisk dropped away, while her teeth chattered like pebbles shaken in a box. Father Umphred, still wearing his benign smile, uttered a gurgling squeak; then, chattering like an angry squirrel, he hunched low, stamping and kicking as if performing a Celtic jig. Ermelgart and Lady Vosse, both off to the side, were jarred and shaken, but evinced only a desultory chattering and grinding of the teeth.

Madouc placidly turned and started from the room, only to encounter the bulk of King Casmir. He halted in the doorway. "What is amiss? Why is everyone so wild and so strange?"

Father Umphred spoke plaintively: "Sire, Princess Madouc has learned witch-tricks; she knows a sleight to set us into a fit of confusion, so that our teeth rattle and our brains reel like spinning hoops."

Queen Sollace spoke in a plangent croak: "Father Umphred states the truth! Madouc hisses, or sings a whistling song-I was too unnerved to notice-and instantly our bones turned to jelly, and all our teeth rang and clattered and resounded again and again!"

King Casmir looked down at Madouc. "What is the truth of this?"

Madouc said pensively: "I believe that Queen Sollace took bad advice and started to beat me, then was deterred by her own true kindness. It was Lady Vosse for whom I ordered the whisking; I hope that you will see to it now."

"A farrago of nonsense!" blurted Lady Vosse. "This mad little imp hissed and we were all forced to chatter and jump!"

"Well then, Madouc?" demanded King Casmir.

"It is nothing of consequence." Madouc tried to edge around Casmir's bulk, so that she might gain the door. "Sire, excuse me, if you please."

"I do not so please! Certainly not until matters are clarified for my understanding! What is this 'hissing' that you do?"

"It is a small knack, Your Highness-no more."

'A small knack'?" cried Queen Sollace. "My teeth still wamble and pulse! If you recall, Lady Desdea complained of similar events at Sarris!"

Casmir frowned down at Madouc. "Where did you learn this trick?"

Madouc said bravely: "Sire, best for everyone's comfort if we regard the matter as my personal secret."

Casmir looked down in astonishment. "Impudence again? Condescension from a foxen fluff of a girl! Ermelgart, bring me the whisk."

Madouc tried to dodge and dart through the doorway, but King Casmir seized her and bent her over his leg. When she tried to hiss, he clapped his hand to her mouth, then thrust a kerchief between her teeth. Taking the whisk from Ermelgart, he struck six majestic strokes, so that the withes whistled through the air.

King Casmir released his grip. Madouc slowly righted her self, tears of humiliation and rage coursing down her cheeks. King Casmir asked in a heavily sardonic voice: "And what do you think of that, Miss Sly-Boots?"

Madouc stood holding both hands to her smarting haunches. "I think that I will ask my mother for some new tricks."

Casmir opened his mouth, then suddenly became still. After a tense moment he said: "Your mother is dead."

Madouc in her fury thought only to detach herself in utter totality from both Casmir and Sollace. "My mother was not Suldrun, and you know this full well."

"What are you saying?" roared Casmir, standing back. "Is this more impudence?"

Madouc sniffed and decided to say no more.

Casmir bl.u.s.tered on: "If I say your mother is dead, she is dead! Do you want another beating?"

"My mother is the fairy Twisk," said Madouc. "Beat me as you like; it changes nothing. As for my father, he remains a mystery, and I still lack a pedigree."

"Hm hah," said Casmir, thinking over this and that. "Quite so. A pedigree is something everyone should have."

"I am happy that you agree, since one of these days I intend to search out my own."

"Unnecessary!" declared Casmir bluffly. "You are Princess Madouc and your pedigree or its lack need never be called into question."

"A fine long pedigree is better than its lack."

"Just so." Casmir looked around the chamber, to find all eyes fixed upon him. He signalled to Madouc. "Come."

King Casmir led the way to his private sitting room. He pointed to a sofa. "Be seated."

Madouc perched herself gingerly upon the cushions, to the best possible eas.e.m.e.nt of her pain, watching King Casmir warily all the while. King Casmir paced up the length of the room, then back. Madouc's parentage was irrelevant; so long as no one knew the facts. Princess Madouc could be used to cement a valuable alliance. Madouc the changeling waif lacked all value in this regard. Casmir stopped short in his tracks. "You suspect, then, that Suldrun was not your mother?"

"My mother is Twisk. She is alive and she is a fairy."

"I will be frank," said Casmir. "Indeed we knew you for a changeling, but you were so bonny a baby that we could not put you aside. We took you to our hearts as 'Princess Madouc'. That is how it is today. You enjoy all the privileges of true royalty, and of course the obligations, as well." Casmir's voice changed a degree or two in timbre, and he watched Madouc covertly. "Unless, of course, Suldrun's true-born son came forward to claim his birthright. What do you know of him?"

Madouc wriggled to lessen the throbbing of her scantily padded b.u.t.tocks. "I asked about my pedigree, but to no avail."

"You did not learn the fate of your counterpart-the changeling who would be Suldrun's son, and just your own age?"

With great effort Madouc quelled a gleeful laugh. A year in the fairy shee meant time far longer in the outside world perhaps seven years, or eight, or nine; no exact correspondence could be made. Casmir had no inkling of the case. "He is nothing to me," said Madouc. "Perhaps he still haunts the shee. Or he may well be dead; the Forest of Tantrevalles is a perilous place."

King Casmir asked sharply: "Why are you smiling?"