The Complete Lyonesse Trilogy Read online

  The Hall of Honours had been added by King Carles, last of the Methewen Dynasty. Chlowod the Red, first of the Tyrrhenians,5 extended Haidion’s precincts to the east of Zoltra’s Wall. He paved the Urquial, Zoltra’s old parade ground, and to the back built the massive Peinhador, in which were housed infirmary, barracks and penitentiary. The dungeons under the old armoury fell into disuse, with the ancient cages, racks, griddles, wheels, strappado lofts, presses, punches and twisting machines left to molder in the damp.

  The kings proceeded to rule, one by one, and each augmented Haidion’s halls, passages, prospects, galleries, towers and turrets, as if each, brooding on mortality, sought to make himself part of ageless Haidion.

  For those who lived there, Haidion was a small universe indifferent to the events of elsewhere, though the membrane of separation was not impermeable. There were rumors from abroad, notices of the changing seasons, arrivals and excursions, an occasional novelty or alarm; but these were muffled murmurs, dim images, which barely stirred the organs of the palace. A comet flaring across the sky? Marvellous!—but forgotten when Shilk the pot-boy kicks the undercook’s cat. The Ska have ravaged North Ulfland? The Ska are like wild animals; but this morning, after eating cream on her porridge, the Duchess of Skroy found a dead mouse in the cream jug, and here was emotion raw and stark, what with her outcries and shoes thrown at the maids!

  The laws which ruled the small universe were exact. Status was graduated with the finest of discrimination, from high degree to lowest of the low. Each knew his quality and understood the delicate distinction between next highest (to be minimized) and next lowest (to be enforced and emphasized). Some encroached beyond their station, generating tension; the sharp stench of rancor hung in the air. Each scrutinized the conduct of those above, while concealing his own affairs from those below. The royal personages were watched with care; their habits were discussed and analyzed a dozen times a day. Queen Sollace showed great cordiality to religious zealots and priests, and found much of interest in their creeds. She was thought to be sexually cold and never took lovers. King Casmir made connubial visits to her bed regularly, once each month, and they coupled with stately ponderosity, like the mating of elephants.

  Princess Suldrun occupied a peculiar place in the social structure of the palace. The indifference of King Casmir and Queen Sollace was duly noted; petty discourtesies therefore might be visited upon Suldrun with impunity.

  The years passed and, without any notice being taken, Suldrun became a quiet child with long soft blonde hair. Because no one saw fit to arrange otherwise, Ehirme made the leap in status from wet-nurse to the private maid of the princess.

  Ehirme, untrained in etiquette and not greatly gifted in other ways, had assimilated lore from her Celtic grandfather, which across the seasons and over the years she communicated to Suldrun: tales and fables, the perils of far places, dints against the mischief of fairies, the language of flowers, precautions while walking out at midnight and the avoidance of ghosts, the knowledge of good trees and bad trees.

  Suldrun learned of lands which lay beyond the castle. “Two roads lead from Lyonesse Town,” said Ehirme. “You may go north through the mountains along the Sfer Arct, or you go east through Zoltra’s Gate and across the Urquial. Presently you come to my little cottage and our three fields where we grow cabbages, turnips and hay for the beasts; then the road forks. To the right you follow the shore of the Lir all the way to Slute Skeme. To the left you fare north and join the Old Street which runs beside the Forest of Tantrevalles where the fairies live. Two roads pass through the forest, north to south and east to west.”

  “Tell what happens where they meet!” Suldrun already knew but she enjoyed the zest of Ehirme’s descriptions.

  Ehirme warned her: “I’ve never fared so far, you understand! But what grandfather says is this: in the old times the crossroads would move about, because the place was enchanted and never knew peace. This might be well enough for the traveler, because, after all, he would put one foot ahead of him and then the other and the road would at last be won, and the traveler none the wiser that he had seen twice as much forest as he had bargained for. The most troubled were the folk who sold their goods each year at the Goblin Fair, and where was that but at the crossroads! The folk for the fair were most put out, because the fair should be at the crossroads on Midsummer Night, but when they arrived at the crossroads it had shifted two miles and a half, and nowhere a fair to be seen.

  “About this time the magicians vied in awful conflict. Murgen proved the strongest and defeated Twitten, whose father was a halfling, his mother a bald priestess at Kai Kang, under the Atlas Mountains. What to do with the defeated magician, who seethed with evil and hate? Murgen rolled him up and forged him into a stout iron post, ten foot long and thick as my leg. Then Murgen took this enchanted post to the crossroads and waited till it shifted to the proper place, then he drove the iron post down deep in the center, fixing the crossroads so it no longer could move, and all the folk at the Goblin Fair were glad, and spoke well of Murgen.”

  “Tell about Goblin Fair!”

  “Well then, it’s the place and time when the halflings and men can meet and none will harm the other, so long as he stays polite. The folk set up booths and sell all manner of fine things: cobweb cloth and wine of violets in silver bottles, books of fairy-skein, written with words that you can’t get out of your head once they’re in. You’ll see all kinds of halflings: fairies and goblins, trolls and merrihews, and even an odd falloy, though they show themselves seldom, out of shyness, despite being the most beautiful of all. You’ll hear songs and music and much chinking of fairy-gold, which they squeeze from buttercups. Oh they’re a rare folk, the fairies!”

  “Tell how you saw them!”

  “Oh indeed! It was five years ago when I was with my sister who married the cobbler in Frogmarsh Village. One time, just at gloaming, I sat by the stile to rest my bones and watch while evening came over the meadow. I heard tink-a-tink-tinkle, and I looked and listened. Again: tink-a-tink-tinkle, and there, not twenty paces distant came a little fellow with a lantern that gave green light. From the beak of his cap hung a silver bell that went tink-a-tink-tinkle as he jumped along. I sat quiet as a post, till he was gone with his bell and green lantern, and that’s all there is to it.”

  “Tell about the ogre!”

  “No, that’s quite enough for today.”

  “Do tell, please.”

  “Well, in truth I know not all that much. There are different sorts among the halflings, different as fox from bear, so that fairy and ogre and goblin and skite are different. All are enemies each to each, except at the Goblin Fair. The ogres live deep in the forest, and it’s true, they’ll take children and roast them on spits. So never you run too far into the forest for berries, lest you be lost.”

  “I’ll be careful. Now tell me—”

  “It’s time for your porridge. And today, who knows? there might be a nice rosy apple in my bag yonder . . .”

  Suldrun took lunch in her small sitting-room, or, if the weather were fine, in the orangery: delicately nibbling and sipping while Ehirme held the spoon to her mouth. In due course, she fed herself, with careful movements and sober concentration, as if the most important thing in the world were eating daintily, without mess.

  Ehirme found the habit both absurd and endearing, and sometimes she would come up behind Suldrun, and say ‘Boo!’ in her ear, just as Suldrun opened her mouth for a spoonful of soup. Suldrun pretended to be outraged and reproached Ehirme: “That is a naughty trick!” Then she once more commenced to eat, watching Ehirme carefully from the corner of her eye.

  Away from Suldrun’s chambers Ehirme moved as unobtrusively as possible, but gradually the fact emerged that Ehirme the peasant girl had stolen a march on her betters. The matter was referred to Dame Boudetta, Mistress of the Household, a severe and uncompromising lady, born into the petty gentility. Her duties were manifold: she supervised the female servants, monitored their virtue, arbitrated questions of propriety. She knew the special conventions of the palace. She was a compendium of genealogical information and even greater masses of scandal.

  Bianca, an upper-chamber maid, first brought complaint of Ehirme. “She’s an outsider and doesn’t even live at the palace. She comes in smelling of pigs and now she’s taken to all manner of airs just because she sweeps out little Suldrun’s bed-chamber.”

  “Yes, yes,” said Dame Boudetta, speaking through her long high-bridged nose. “I know all about it.”

  “Another thing!” Bianca now spoke with sly emphasis. “Princess Suldrun, as we all know, has little to say, and may be just a trifle backward—”

  “Bianca! That is quite enough!”

  “—but when she does speak, her accent is atrocious! What when King Casmir decides to converse with the princess and hears the voice of a stable-boy?”

  “Your point is well taken,” said Dame Boudetta loftily. “Still, I have already given the matter thought.”

  “Remember, I am well suited to the office of personal maid and my accent is excellent, and I am thoroughly conversant with details of deportment and dress.”

  “I will keep this in mind.”

  In the end Dame Boudetta appointed a gentlewoman of middle quality to the post: in fact, her cousin Dame Maugelin, to whom she owed a favor. Ehirme was forthwith discharged and sent trudging home with hanging head.

  Suldrun, at this time, was four years old, and ordinarily docile, gentle and easy of disposition, if somewhat remote and pensive. Upon learning of the change she stood transfixed in shock. Ehirme was the single living object in the world whom she loved.

  Suldrun made no outcry. She climbed to her chamber, and for ten minutes stood looking down over the town. Then she
wrapped her doll into a kerchief, pulled on her hooded cloak of soft gray lamb’s-wool and quietly departed the palace.

  She ran up the arcade which flanked the east wing of Haidion, and slipped under Zoltra’s Wall by a dank passage twenty feet long. She ran across the Urquial, ignoring the grim Peinhador and the gallows on the roof, from which dangled a pair of corpses.

  With the Urquial behind, Suldrun trotted along the road until she was tired, then walked. Suldrun knew the way well enough: along the road to the first lane, left along the lane to the first cottage.

  She shyly pushed open the door, to find Ehirme sitting glumly at a table, paring turnips for the supper soup.

  Ehirme stared in astonishment. “And what are you doing here?”

  “I don’t like Dame Maugelin. I’ve come to live with you.”

  “Ah, little princess, but that won’t do! Come, we must get you back before there’s an outcry. Who saw you leave?”

  “No one.”

  “Come then; quickly now. If any should ask, we’re just out for the air.”

  “I don’t want to stay there alone!”

  “Suldrun, my dearest, you must! You’re a royal princess, and you may never forget it! That means you do as you’re told. Come along now!”

  “But I won’t do as I’m told, if it means that you’ll be gone.”

  “Well, we’ll see. Let’s hurry; maybe we can slip in with none the wiser.”

  But Suldrun already had been missed. While her presence at Haidion meant nothing particular to anyone, her absence was a matter of great import. Dame Maugelin had searched the entire East Tower, from the garret under the roof-slates, which Suldrun was known to visit (Skulking and hiding, the secret little imp! thought Dame Maugelin), down through the observatory where King Casmir came to assess the harbor; beyond, down through the chambers on the next floor, which included Suldrun’s rooms. Finally, hot, tired and apprehensive, she descended to the main floor, to halt in mingled relief and fury to see Suldrun and Ehirme push open the heavy door and come quietly into the foyer at the end of the main gallery. In an angry swirl of robes Dame Maugelin descended the last three stairs and advanced upon the two. “Where have you been? We are all in a state of supreme anxiety! Come; we must find Dame Boudetta; the matter is in her hands!”

  Dame Maugelin marched off down the gallery and along a side corridor to Dame Boudetta’s office, with Suldrun and Ehirme following apprehensively behind.

  Dame Boudetta heard Dame Maugelin’s excited report and looked back and forth between Suldrun and Ehirme. The matter seemed of no great moment; in fact, trivial and tiresome. Still, it represented a certain amount of insubordination and so must be dealt with, briskly and decisively. The question of fault was irrelevant; Dame Boudetta ranked Suldrun’s intelligence, sluggish though it might be, about on a par with the moony peasant stupidity of Ehirme. Suldrun, of course, could not be punished; even Sollace would rise in wrath, to learn that royal flesh had been scourged.

  Dame Boudetta dealt practically with the affair. She turned a cold gaze upon Ehirme. “Now then, woman, what have you done?”

  Ehirme, whose mind indeed was not agile, looked blankly at Dame Boudetta. “I have done nothing, my Lady.” Then, hoping to ease matters for Suldrun, she blundered on: “It was just one of our little walks we were having. Wasn’t it, Princess dear?”

  Suldrun, looking from hawk-like Dame Boudetta to portly Dame Maugelin, discovered only expressions of cold dislike. She said: “I went for a walk; that is true.”

  Dame Boudetta turned upon Ehirme. “How dare you take such liberties upon yourself! Were you not dismissed from your post?”

  “Yes, my Lady, but it wasn’t like that at all—”

  “Tush, no more. I will hear no excuses.” Boudetta signaled to a footman. “Take this woman to the yard and assemble the staff.”

  Sobbing in bewilderment Ehirme was led to the service yard beside the kitchen, and a gaoler was summoned down from the Peinhador. The palace staff was marshaled to watch, while Ehirme was bent over a trestle by a pair of footmen in Haidion livery. The gaoler came forward: a burly black-bearded man with a pallid, almost lavender, skin. He stood idly by, staring at the maids and twitching his scourge of willow-withes.

  Dame Boudetta stood on a balcony, with Dame Maugelin and Suldrun. In a clear nasal voice she cried out: “Attention, staff! I cite this woman, Ehirme, for malfeasance! Through folly and carelessness she sequestered the person of beloved Princess Suldrun, to cause us grief and consternation. Woman, can you now claim contrition?”

  Suldrun cried out: “She didn’t do anything! She brought me home!”

  Beset by that peculiar passion which attends those at an execution, Dame Maugelin dared so far as to pinch Suldrun’s arm and drew her roughly back. “Silence!” she hissed.

  Ehirme bawled: “I’m shamed if I did wrong! I only walked the Princess home, in haste.”

  Dame Boudetta suddenly, in all clarity, perceived the truth of the matter. Her mouth sagged. She stepped forward. Events had gone too far; her dignity was at stake. No doubt Ehirme had escaped punishment for other offenses. There was always her presumptuous behaviour to be paid off.

  Dame Boudetta raised her hand. “For all, a lesson to be learned! Work dutifully! Never presume! Respect your superiors! Watch and take heed! Warden! Eight strokes, stringent but just.”

  The gaoler stood back, pulled a black executioner’s mask over his face, then advanced upon Ehirme. He threw her brown furze skirt up over her shoulders, exposing a pair of ample white buttocks. He raised the switches high. Thwish-wack! A gasping cry from Ehirme. From the onlookers, a mingling of indrawn breaths and titters.

  Dame Boudetta looked on impassively. Dame Maugelin showed a pursing mindless smile. Suldrun stood silently, biting her lower lip. With self-critical deliberation the gaoler wielded the scourge. While not a kindly man, he had no taste for pain and today he was in good humor. He contrived a mighty effort, swinging his shoulders, lurching, grunting, but laid small actual weight into his strokes and took away no skin. Ehirme nevertheless bellowed with each stroke, and all were awed by the severity of her thrashing.

  “ . . .seven . . .eight. Enough,” declared Dame Boudetta. “Trinthe, Molotta; attend the woman; dress her body with good oil, and send her home. The rest of you: return to your work!”

  Dame Boudetta turned, marched from the balcony into a parlour for high-caste servants, such as herself, the seneschal, the bursar, the sergeant of the palace guards and the master steward, where they could take refreshment and confer. Dame Maugelin and Suldrun followed.

  Dame Boudetta faced Suldrun, to find her already halfway to the door. “Child! Princess Suldrun! Where are you going?”

  Dame Maugelin ran heavy-legged to stand in Suldrun’s way.

  Suldrun halted, and looked from woman to woman, her eyes glinting with tears.

  “Please give me your attention, Princess,” said Dame Boudetta. “We are starting something new, which perhaps has been delayed too long: your education. You must learn to be a lady of esteem and dignity. Dame Maugelin will instruct you.”

  “I don’t want her.”

  “Nevertheless, you shall have her, by particular order of gracious Queen Sollace.”

  Suldrun looked up full into Dame Boudetta’s face. “Someday I will be Queen. Then you will be whipped.”

  Dame Boudetta opened her mouth, then shut it again. She took a quick step toward Suldrun, who stood half-passive, half-defiant. Dame Boudetta halted. Dame Maugelin, grinning mirthlessly, watched from the side, eyes looking in several directions.

  Dame Boudetta spoke in a croaking voice, painfully gentle. “Now then, Princess Suldrun, I act only from devotion to yourself. It is not meet for either queen or princess to use peevish vindictiveness.”

  From Dame Maugelin came an unctuous corroboration: “So it is indeed. Remember the same for Dame Maugelin!”