Elder Isles - Madouc Part 7

Madouc sighed, shrugged and ignored the mischief. One morning, while taking breakfast with her maid-in-attendance, Madouc discovered a dead mouse in her bowl of porridge. She wrinkled her nose and drew back in distaste. Glancing around the table, she noted the covert attention of the six maidens; clearly they were aware of what she would find. Chlodys clapped a hand over her mouth to restrain a giggle; Devonet's gaze was limpid and bland.

Madouc pushed the bowl aside, pursed her lips, but made no comment.

Two days later Madouc-by a series of mysterious acts and feigned stealth-so aroused the curiosity of Devonet, Chlodys and Ydraint that they followed her surrept.i.tiously in order to spy out the reason for her strange conduct. Clearly, it could only be scandalous, and the potentialities were delicious indeed. So tempted, they followed Madouc to the top of the Tall Tower, and watched as Madouc climbed a ladder up to a range of abandoned dovecotes. When at last she descended the ladder and hurried off down the stairs, Devonet, Chlodys and Ydraint emerged from their hiding places, climbed the ladder, pushed through a trap door and cautiously explored the dovecotes. To their disappointment, there was nothing to be found but dust, dirt, a few feathers and a bad smell, but no evidence of depravity. Glumly they returned to the trapdoor, only to discover that the ladder had been removed, with the stone floor a daunting twelve feet below.

At noon the absence of Devonet, Chlodys and Ydraint was noticed, to the general perplexity. Artwen, Elissia and Felice were questioned, but could supply no information. Lady Desdea put a sharp question to Madouc, who likewise professed puzzlement. "They are very lazy; perhaps they still lie asleep in their beds."

"Not likely!" said Lady Desdea crisply. "I find the situation most peculiar!"

"So do I," said Madouc. "I suspect that they are up to no good."

The day pa.s.sed, and the night. Early the next morning, when all was still, a kitchen maid, crossing the service-yard, heard a thin wailing sound coming from a source she could not at once identify. She stopped to listen, and finally fixed upon the dove cotes at the top of the Tall Tower. She reported her findings to Dame Boudetta, the housekeeper, and the mystery was at last resolved. The three girls, dirty, frightened, cold and aggrieved, were rescued from their high prison. In hysterical voices they denounced Madouc and blamed her for all their discomfort. ("She wanted us to go hungry and starve!" "It was cold, and the wind blew, and we heard the ghost!" "We were frightened! She did it all on purpose!")

Lady Desdea and Lady Marmone listened with stony faces, but were at a loss to adjudicate the situation. The issues were confused; further, if the case were brought to the attention of the queen, Madouc might well bring accusations of her own, in regard to dead mice in the porridge, for instance.

In the end, Chlodys, Ydraint and Devonet were brusquely advised that climbing around abandoned dovecotes was behavior unsuitable for highborn young ladies.

Up to this time, the affair of the rotten quinces, along with King Casmir's embarra.s.sment and Madouc's subsequent travail, had been sternly suppressed. Now, through some clandestine source, the news reached the ears of the six maids-in-waiting, to their delight. Over needlework, Devonet spoke softly: "What a sight, what a sight, when Madouc was beaten!"

"Kicking and squalling, bare bottom high!" said Chlodys quietly, as if awed by the thought.

"Was it truly so?" marvelled Artwen.

Devonet nodded primly. "Indeed! Did you not hear the dismal howling?"

"Everyone heard it," said Ydraint. "Still, no one knew where it came from."

"Everyone knows now," said Chlodys. "It was Madouc, roaring like a sick cow!"

Elissia spoke with sly mirth: "Princess Madouc, you are so quiet! Are you discontented with our conversation?"

"Not altogether. I am amused by your jokes. Sometime you shall repeat them for me."

"How so?" asked Devonet, puzzled and alert.

"Can you not imagine? Someday I will marry a great king and sit on a golden throne. At that time I may well command the six of you to my court, that you may produce some of this 'dismal howling' which seems to be so amusing."

The maidens fell uneasily silent. Devonet was the first to recover her composure. She gave a tinkle of laughter. "It is not certain, nor even likely, that you shall marry a king-since you have no pedigree! Chlodys, has Princess Madouc a pedigree?"

"No pedigree whatever, poor thing."

Madouc asked innocently: "What is a pedigree?"

Devonet laughed again. "It is something you do not have! Perhaps we should not tell you this, but truth is truth! You have no father! Elissia, what is a girl who lacks a father?"

"She is a b.a.s.t.a.r.d."

"Exactly true! Sad to say, the Princess Madouc is a b.a.s.t.a.r.d, and no one will ever want to marry her!"

Chlodys gave an exaggerated shudder. "I am glad that I am not a b.a.s.t.a.r.d."

"But you are wrong," said Madouc in a voice of sweet reason. "I do have a father. He is dead, or so it is said, along with my mother."

Devonet spoke with disdain: "Perhaps he is dead, perhaps not. They threw him into a hole, and there he is today. He was a vagabond, and no one even troubled to ask his name."

"In any event," said Chlodys, "you lack a pedigree, and so you shall never marry. It is hard news, but it is best that you learn the facts now, so that you may become inured to them."

"Just so," said Ydraint. "We tell you this because it is our duty to do so."

Madouc controlled the quaver in her voice. "It is your duty to tell only the truth."

"Ah, but we have done so!" declared Devonet.

"I do not believe it!" said Madouc. "My father was a n.o.ble knight, since I am his daughter! How could it be otherwise?"

Devonet looked Madouc up and down, then said: "Very easily."

III.

Madouc had no sure understanding as to what might be a 'pedigree'. She had heard the word used once or twice before, but its exact significance had never been made clear. A few days past she had gone to the stables to groom her pony Tyfer; nearby a pair of gentlemen were discussing a horse and its 'fine pedigree'. The horse, a black stallion, had been notably well-hung; but this would not seem to be the determining factor, and certainly not so far as Madouc was concerned. Devonet and the other maidens could not reasonably expect her to flaunt an article of this sort.

It was all very puzzling. Perhaps the gentlemen had been alluding to the quality of the horse's tail. As before, and for much the same reason, Madouc rejected the theory. She decided to speculate no further but to make inquiries at the first opportu nity.

Madouc was on tolerably good terms with Prince Ca.s.sander, only son to King Casmir and Queen Sollace, and heir-apparent to the crown of Lyonesse. Ca.s.sander over the years had become something of a gay blade. His physique was robust. Under tight blond curls his face was round, with small stiff features and round blue eyes. From his father Ca.s.sander had inherited, or had learned, a whole set of curt gestures and habits of command; from Sollace had come his fine pale pink skin, small hands and feet, and a temperament easier and more flexible than that of King Casmir.

Madouc discovered Ca.s.sander sitting alone in the orangery, writing with concentration upon a parchment with a quill pen. Madouc stood watching a moment. Did Ca.s.sander spend his energies upon poetry? Song? An amorous ode? Ca.s.sander, looking up, caught sight of Madouc. He put his pen aside and dropped the parchment into a box.

Madouc slowly approached. Ca.s.sander seemed in a jovial mood, and gave Madouc a heavily facetious greeting: "Hail and thrice hail, to the avenging Fury of the castle, clothed in darts and spasms of purple lightning! Who will be next to know the sting of your awful wrath? Or-I should say-the impact of your over-ripe quinces?"

Madouc smiled wanly and settled herself upon the bench be side Ca.s.sander. "His Majesty has issued exact orders; I may no longer do what needs to be done." Madouc sighed. "I have decided to obey."

"That is a wise decision."

Madouc went on, in a wistful voice. "One would think that, as a royal princess, I might be ent.i.tled to throw quince in what ever direction and as often as I chose."

"So one might think, but the act is not considered decorous, and above all, decorum is the duty of a royal princess!"

"What of my mother, the Princess Suldrun-was she decorous?"

Ca.s.sander, raising his eyebrows, slanted a quizzical glance down upon Madouc. "What an odd question! How should I answer? In all honesty, I would be forced to say something like: 'not altogether'."

"Because she lived alone in a garden? Or because I was born to her when she was not married?"

"Neither form of conduct is considered truly decorous."

Madouc pursed her lips. "I want to know more about her, but no one will speak. Why is there so much mystery?"

Ca.s.sander laughed ruefully. "There is a mystery because no one knows what went on."