The Complete Lyonesse Part 45

"Neither! I trust you! In the name of our love, help me!"

Tamurello's voice became practical. "For best terms, surrender now. The worse you hurt them, the harder will be your fate."

His face receded into the gray membrane, which now snapped away from the frame and disappeared, leaving only the beech-wood backing-panel. Carfilhiot cursed and dashed the frame to the floor.

He descended to the floor below and walked back and forth with hands clasped behind his back. He turned and called to his servant. "The two children: bring them here at once!"

On top of Tac Tor the captain of the engineers suddenly leapt in front of the catapults. "Hold your fire!"

Aillas came forward. "What goes on?"

"Look!" The captain pointed. "They have put someone up on what is left of the roof."

Shimrod said: "There are two: Glyneth and Dhrun!"

Aillas, looking across the gulf, for the first time saw his son. Shimrod, beside him, said: "He is a handsome boy, and strong and brave as well. You will be proud of him."

"But how to make rescue? They are at Carfilhiot's mercy. He has canceled our catapults; Tintzin Fyral is once more invulnerable."

Glyneth and Dhrun, dirty, bewildered, unhappy and frightened, were seized from the room where they had been confined and ordered up the spiral staircase. As they climbed they became aware of a recurrent impact which sent vibrations down the stone walls of the tower. Glyneth stopped to rest, and the servant made urgent gestures. "Quick! Sir Faude is in haste!"

"What is happening?" Glyneth asked.

"The castle is under attack; that is all I know. Come now; there is no time to waste!"

The two were thrust into a parlor; Carfilhiot paused in his pacing to survey them. His easy elegance was absent; he seemed disheveled and distraught. "Come this way! At last you will be of use to me."

Glyneth and Dhrun recoiled before him; he urged them up the staircase, into the upper levels of the tower. Above a boulder plunged down through the broken roof to batter at the far wall. "Quick now! Up with you!" Carfilhiot shoved them up the sagging and broken staircase, out into afternoon sunlight, where they stood cowering in expectation of another projectile.

Dhrun cried out: "Look to the mountain yonder!"

"That's Shimrod up there!" cried Glyneth. "He's come to rescue us!" She waved her arms. "Here we are! Come get us!" The roof groaned as a beam gave way and the staircase sagged. "Hurry!" cried Glyneth. "The roof is falling under us!"

"This way," said Dhrun. He led Glyneth close to the broken battlements, and the two gazed in fascinated hope across the chasm.

Shimrod came to the edge of the cliff. He held a bow in one hand and an arrow in the other. He gave them to an archer.

Glyneth and Dhrun watched him in wonder. "He's trying to signal us," said Glyneth. "I wonder what he wants us to do?"

"The archer is going to shoot the arrow; he's telling us to be careful."

"But why shoot an arrow?"

The line from Murgen's spool, so fine as almost to float in the air, could not be broken by the strength of human arms. Shimrod carefully laid the thread along the ground, back and forth in ten-foot bights, so that it might extend freely. He held up bow and arrow so that the two wistful figures, so near and yet so far, might divine his purpose, then tied an end of the thread to the arrow.

Shimrod turned to Cargus. "Can you flight this arrow over the tower?"

Cargus fitted arrow to bow. "If I fail, pull back the cord and let a better man make the attempt!"

He drew back the arrow to arch the bow, raised it so that the arrow might fly its farthest course, and released. High through the sky, down and over the roof of Tintzin Fyral, flew the arrow, the thread floating behind. Glyneth and Dhrun ran to catch the thread. At Shimrod's signal they tied it to a sound merlon at the far side of the roof. At once the thread thickened, to become a cable of braided fibers two inches in diameter. On Tac Tor a squad of men, putting their shoulders to the rope, pulled up the slack and drew it taut.

In the parlor three floors below, Carfilhiot sat glumly, but relieved that he had so ingeniously halted the barrage. What next? All was in flux; conditions must change. He would exercise his keenest ingenuity, his best talents for agile improvisation, that from this dreary situation he might salvage the most and best for himself. But, despite all, a dismal conviction began to ease across his mind, like a dark shadow. He had very little scope for maneuver. His best hope, Tamurello, had failed him. Even if he could keep Dhrun and Glyneth on the roof indefinitely, he still could not endure a siege forever. He made a petulant sound of distress. It had become a time for compromise, for amiability and a clever bargain. What terms would his enemies offer him? If he surrendered his captives and Shimrod's goods, might he be left in control of the Vale? Probably not. Of the castle itself? Again, probably not.. .Silence from above. What might be happening on Tac Tor? In his mind's eye Carfilhiot imagined his enemies standing at the edge of the cliff, calling ineffectual curses across the wind. He went to the window and looked up. He stared at the line across the sky and uttered a startled cry. Already from the edge of Tac Tor he detected men preparing to slide down the rope. He ran to the stairs and bellowed down to his captain. "Robnet! A squad to the roof, in haste!"

He ran up to the wreck of his private quarters. The stairs to the roof sagged under his weight, groaning and swaying. With a tread as light as possible, he climbed up. He heard Glyneth's exclamation, and tried to hurry, and felt the stairs give way beneath his feet. He lunged, and, catching a splintered roof-beam, pulled himself up. Glyneth, white-faced, stood above him. She swung a length of broken timber and struck at his head with all her strength. Dazed, he fell back and hung with one arm over the roor-beam; then, making a wild grasp with the other arm, he caught Glyneth's ankle and pulled her toward him.

Dhrun ran forward. He held his hand into the air. "Da.s.senach! My sword Da.s.senach! Come to me!"

From far across the Forest of Tantrevalles, from the thicket into which Carfilhiot had flung it, came Da.s.senach the sword, to Dhrun's hand. He raised it high and thrust it down at Carfilhiot's wrist and pinned it to the roof-beam. Glyneth kicked herself free and scrambled to safety. Carfilhiot gave a poignant cry, slipped to hang by his pinned wrist.

Down the rope, riding a loop, came a squat broad-shouldered man, with a dark dour countenance. He dropped upon the roof, went to look at Carfilhiot. Another man slid down from Tac Tor. They lifted Carfilhiot to the roof and bound his arms and legs with rope, and then turned to Glyneth and Dhrun. The smaller of the two men said, "I am Yane; that is Cargus. We are your father's friends." This was said to Dhrun.

"My father?"

"There he stands, next to Shimrod."

Down the line slid man after man. Carfilhiot's soldiers tried to fire arrows from below but the embrasures were set unsuitably in the walls and the arrows went astray.

Tintzin Fyral was empty. The defenders were dead: by sword, fire, asphyxiation in sealed tunnels and the executioner's axe. Robnet, captain of the guard, had climbed atop the wall which enclosed the parade grounds. He stood spraddle-legged, wind blowing his gray locks. He roared challenge in his vast hoa.r.s.e voice. "Come! Who will meet me, sword in hand? Where are your brave champions, your heroes, your n.o.ble knights? Come! Clash steel with me!"

For a few moments the Troice warriors stood watching him. Sir Cargus called up. "Come down, old man! The axe awaits you."

"Come up and take me! Come test your steel against mine!"

Cargus made a motion to the archers; Robnet died with six arrows protruding from neck, chest and eye.

The aviary presented special problems. Certain of the captives fluttered, dodged and climbed to high perches to avoid those who came to release them. Mad King Deuel attempted a gallant flight across the cage, but his wings failed him; he fell to the floor and broke his neck.

The dungeons yielded stuff forever to haunt the thoughts of those who explored them. The torturers were dragged screaming out on the parade ground. The Ulfs cried out for the impaling poles, but King Aillas of Troicinet and South Ulfland had proscribed torment, and their heads were taken by the axe.

Carfilhiot occupied a cage on the parade ground at the base of the castle. A great gibbet was erected, with the arm sixty feet from the ground. At noon on a raw overcast day, with wind blowing strangely from the east, Carfilhiot was carried to the gibbet; and again pa.s.sionate voices were heard. "He escapes too easily!"

Aillas paid no heed. "Hang him high." The executioner bound Carfilhiot's hands behind him, fitted the noose over his head, and Carfilhiot was taken aloft to dangle kicking and jerking: a grotesque black shadow on the gray sky. The impaling poles were broken and the fragments set afire. Carfilhiot's body was cast on the flames, where it twitched and crawled as if dying a second time. From the flames rose a sickly green vapor which blew away on the wind, down Vale Evander and over the sea. The vapor failed to dissipate. It clotted and coalesced, to become an object like a large green pearl, which fell into the ocean where it was swallowed by a turbot.

Shimrod packed into cases his stolen apparatus, and other items as well. He loaded the cases into a wagon and with Glyneth beside him drove the wagon down the vale to old Ys. Aillas and Dhrun rode on horses to the side. The cases were loaded aboard the ship which would convey them back to Troicinet.

An hour before sailing, Shimrod, motivated by caprice, mounted a horse and rode north along the beach: a way he had come long ago in dreams. He approached the low palace beside the sea, and found Melancthe standing on the terrace, almost as if she had been awaiting him.

Twenty feet from Melancthe Shimrod halted his horse. He sat in the saddle, looking at her. She said nothing, nor did he. Presently he turned his horse about and rode slowly back down the beach to Ys.

Chapter 32.

EARLY IN THE SPRING OF the year, envoys from King Casmir arrived at Miraldra and requested audience with King Aillas.

A herald announced their names: "May it please your Highness to receive Sir Nonus Roman, nephew to King Casmir, and Duke Aldrudin of Twarsbane; and Duke Rubarth of Jong; and Earl Fanishe of Stranlip Castle!"

Aillas stepped down from the throne and came forward. "Sirs, I bid you welcome to Miraldra."

"Your Highness is most gracious," said Sir Nonus Roman. "I carry with me a scroll indited with the words of His Majesty, King Casmir of Lyonesse. If you permit, I will read them to you."

"Please do so."

The squire tendered Sir Nonus Roman a tube carved from the ivory of an elephant's tusk. Sir Nonus Roman withdrew a scroll. The squire stepped smartly forward and Sir Nonus Roman handed him the scroll. Sir Nonus Roman addressed Aillas: "Your Highness: the words of Casmir, King of Lyonesse."

The squire, in a sonorous voice, read: For His Majesty, King Aillas, In His Palace Miraldra, Domreis, These Words: I trust that the occasion finds you in good health.

I have come to deplore those conditions which have adversely affected the traditional friendship existing between our realms. The present suspicion and discord brings advantage to neither side. I therefore propose an immediate cessation to hostility, said truce to persist for at least one year, during which time neither side shall engage in armed effort or military initiatives of any sort without prior consultation with the other side, except in the event of exterior attack.

After one year the truce shall continue in effect unless one side notifies the other to the contrary. During this time I hope that our differences may be resolved and that our future relations shall be in terms of fraternal love and concord.

Again, with compliments and best regards, I am Casmir at Haidion, in Lyonesse Town Returning to Lyonesse Town, Sir Nonus Roman delivered the response of King Aillas.

To Casmir, King Of Lyonesse, These Words From Aillas, King Of Troicinet, Dascinet And South Ulfland: I accede to your proposal of a truce, subject to the following conditions: We in Troicinet have no desire to defeat, conquer or occupy the Kingdom of Lyonesse. We are deterred not only by the superior force of your armies, but also by our basic disinclinations.

We cannot feel secure if Lyonesse uses the respite afforded by a truce to construct a naval force of a strength sufficient to challenge our own.

Therefore, I agree to the truce if you desist from all naval construction, which we must consider as preparation for an invasion of Troicinet. You are secure in the strength of your armies, and we in the force of our fleet. Neither is now a threat to the other; let us make this mutual security the basis for the truce.

Aillas With the truce in effect, the Kings of Troicinet and Lyonesse exchanged ceremonial visits, Casmir coming first to Miraldra.

Upon meeting Aillas face to face, he smiled, then frowned and looked in puzzlement. "Somewhere I have seen you before. I never forget a face."

Aillas returned only a noncommittal shrug. "I will not dispute your Majesty's powers of recollection. Remember, I visited Haidion as a child."

"Yes, perhaps so."

During the remainder of the visit Aillas often found Casmir's gaze upon him, curious and speculative.

Sailing across the Lir on their reciprocal visit to Lyonesse, Aillas and Dhrun went to stand on the bow of the ship. Ahead Lyonesse was a dark irregular outline across the horizon. "I have never spoken to you of your mother," said Aillas. "Perhaps it is time that you knew the tale of how things went." He looked to the west, to the east and then once more to the north. He pointed. "Yonder, perhaps ten or twenty miles, I cannot be sure, I was pushed into the water of the gulf by my murderous cousin. The currents carried me ash.o.r.e, as I hung on the very verge of death. I came back to life and thought that indeed I had died and that my soul had drifted into paradise. I was in a garden where a beautiful maiden, through the cruelty of her father, lived alone. The father was King Casmir; the maiden was the Princess Suldrun. We fell deeply in love and planned to escape the garden. We were betrayed; I was dropped by Casmir's orders into a deep hole, and he must yet believe that I died there. Your mother gave birth to you, and you were taken away that you might be secure from Casmir. In grief and utter woe, your mother gave herself to death, and for this anguish visited upon someone as blameless as moonlight I will forever in my bones hate Casmir. And that is the way of it."

Dhrun looked away across the water. "What was my mother like?"

"It is hard to describe her. She was unworldly and not unhappy in her solitude. I thought her the most beautiful creature I had ever seen..."

As Aillas moved through the halls of Haidion he was haunted by images of the past, of himself and Suldrun, so vivid that he seemed to hear the whisper of their voices and the rustle of their garments; and as the images pa.s.sed the two lovers seemed to glance sidewise at Aillas, smiling enigmatically with eyes glowing, as if the two had been playing in all innocence no more than a dangerous game.

On the afternoon of the third day, Aillas and Dhrun departed Haidion through the orangery. They went up the arcade, through the sagging timber portal, down through the rocks and into the old garden.

Slowly they descended the path through silence which like the silence of dreams was immanent to the place. At the ruins they stopped while Dhrun looked around him in awe and wonder. Heliotrope scented the air; Dhrun would never smell the perfume again without a quick clutch of emotion.

As the sun settled among golden clouds the two went down to the sh.o.r.e and watched the surf play over the shingle. Twilight would soon be coming; they turned up the hill. At the lime tree Aillas slowed his steps and stopped. Away from Dhrun's hearing he whispered: "Suldrun! Are you here? Suldrun?"

He listened and imagined a whisper, perhaps only a stirring of wind in the leaves. Aillas spoke aloud: "Suldrun?"

Dhrun came to him and hugged his arm; already Dhrun deeply loved his father. "Are you talking to my mother?"

"I spoke. But she does not answer."

Dhrun looked about him, down to the cold sea. "Let's go. I don't like this place."

"Nor do I."

Aillas and Dhrun departed the garden: two creatures, living and quick; and if something by the old lime tree had whispered, now it whispered no more and the garden throughout the night was silent!

The Troice ships had sailed. Casmir, on the terrace in front of Haidion, watched the sails grow small.

Brother Umphred came up to him. "Sire, a word with you."

Casmir regarded him without favor. Sollace, ever more fervent in her faith, had suggested the construction of a Christian cathedral, for the worship of three ent.i.ties she called the "Holy Trinity." Casmir suspected the influence of Brother Umphred, whom he detested.

He asked: "What do you want?"

"Last night I chanced to notice King Aillas as he came in for the banquet."

"Well then?"

"Did you find his face familiar?" An arch and meaningful smile trembled along Brother Umphred's lips.

Casmir glared at him. "As a matter of fact, I did. What of it?"

"Do you recall the young man who insisted that I marry him to the Princess Suldrun?"

Casmir's mouth sagged. He stared thunderstruck, first at Brother Umphred, then out across the sea. "I dropped him into the hole. He is dead."

"He escaped. He remembers."

Casmir snorted. "It is impossible. Prince Dhrun is all of ten years old."

"And how old do you make King Aillas?"

"He is, at a guess, twenty-two or twenty-three, no more."

"And he fathered a child at the age of twelve or thirteen?"

Casmir paced the floor, hands behind his back. "It is possible. There is mystery here." He paused and looked out to sea, where the Troice sails had now disappeared from view.

He signaled to Sir Mungo, his seneschal. "Do you recall the woman who was put to question in connection with the Princess Suldrun?"

"Sire, I do so remember."

"Fetch her here."

In due course Sir Mungo reported to Casmir. "Sire, I have tried to implement your will, but in vain. Ehirme, her spouse, her family, each and all: they have vacated their premises and it is said that they have removed to Troicinet, where they are now landed gentry."