The Green Pearl Read online

  Aillas made no comment. Encouraged by what he thought to be Aillas' deep concern, Umphred continued. "My fondest hope is to lead the King of Troicinet and his noble folk into salvation, and a grand cathedral would cause the angels themselves to sing! And then, naturally, since you seem to prefer it, the facts of your old identity shall remain as secure as the secrets of the confessional."

  Aillas darted him a single bright glance, then continued to brood into the flames.

  The door opened. Yane, still in the guise of Sir Hassifa the Moor, came quietly into the parlour. Aillas straightened up and swung around. "Ah, Sir Hassifa! May I ask, are you a Christian?"

  "By no means."

  "Good: a simplification. Take note of this fellow here: what do you see?"

  "A priest, fat, white and sleek as a beaver, and no doubt unctuous of tongue. He arrived today from Lyonesse."

  "Just so. I want you to examine him with care, so that you will never mistake him for any other."

  "Sir, he could pull the hood tight around his face, name himself Beelzebub and hide in the deepest catacomb of Rome and still I would know him."

  "You will find this amazing! He claims old acquaintance with me."

  Sir Hassifa turned to examine Umphred with wonder. "What could be his motives?"

  "He wants me to build him a fine church at Domreis. If I refuse, he threatens to betray my identity to King Casmir."

  Sir Hassifa inspected Umphred anew. "Is he addled? King Casmir already knows your identity. You are Aillas of Troicinet."

  Umphred began to dislike the tone of the conversation. He licked his lips. "Yes, yes, of course. I merely ventured a pleasantry, as might pass between old friends!"

  Aillas spoke to Sir Hassifa: "He persists in his claim! I am becoming annoyed. If he were not here as a guest, I might well clap him into a dungeon. I may do so in any case."

  "Do not soil your hospitality on his account!" Sir Hassifa advised. "Wait until he returns to Lyonesse. I can have his throat cut at any hour of day or night, with a sharp or dull knife."

  Aillas said: "It might be best to drag him before Casmir at this very moment and hear what he has to say. Then, if he utters some malicious tale—"

  "Wait!" cried Umphred desperately. "I now understand my error! I was mistaken, in whole and in part! I have never seen you before in my life!"

  Sir Hassifa said: "I fear that he might yet blurt out some tumble of dirty nonsense, to the detriment of your dignity." He produced a gleaming dagger. "Let me cut out his tongue, at least. We will cauterize the wound with a hot poker."

  "No, no!" cried Umphred, now sweating. "I will say nothing to anyone! My lips are sealed! I know a thousand secrets; all are immured forever!"

  Aillas said to Yane: "Since he is a guest, I can take the matter no farther. But if ever a rumor or hint of his folly be heard—"

  "No need to threaten!" declared Umphred. "I have made a sad mistake, which will never be repeated!"

  "That is good news," said Aillas. "Especially for you. Remember that the person for whom you mistook me has reason to take a savage revenge upon you."

  "The episode is forgotten," said Umphred. "Pray excuse me now; I am fatigued and I still have my devotions to perform."

  "Go."

  VII

  FROM MiRALDRA'S MAIN GALLERY a portal opened into the great hall. To either side of the opening stood a heroic marble statue, the pair brought from the Mediterranean five centuries before. The statues represented warriors of ancient Hellas, naked save for helmets, with short swords and shields held in attitudes of attack.

  King Casmir and Queen Sollace, after taking breakfast in their chambers, strolled along the gallery, pausing now and again to examine those objects of craft and virtue which across the years had been collected by the kings of Troicinet.

  Beside one of the marble statues stood a footman in the livery of Miraldra, armed with a ceremonial halberd. As King Casmir and Queen Sollace paused to examine the heroic figures, the footman made a signal to King Casmir, who, turning his head, recognized that person whom he knew as "Valdez".

  King Casmir looked up and down the gallery, then stepped apart from Queen Sollace and approached the footman. "So this is your vantage-point!" he muttered. "I have often wondered!"

  "You would not see me here today, had I not wished to speak with you. I will no longer be coming to Lyonesse Town; my movements are attracting notice among the fishermen."

  "Oh?" King Casmir's voice was flat. "What will you do now?"

  "I intend a quiet life in the country."

  King Casmir, pretending interest in the statue, reflected a moment. "You must come to Lyonesse Town one last time, that I may reward you properly for your service. Perhaps we might arrange a new system, from which you would derive profit but know no risk."

  "I think not," said Valdez drily. "Still, if someone speaks my name at Haidion, give him attention; he will bring news... . Someone approaches."

  King Casmir turned away, and with Queen Sollace strolled down the gallery.

  After a moment Sollace asked: "Why do you frown so?"

  King Casmir forced a laugh. "Perhaps I envy King Aillas his fine statues! We must see to something similar at Haidion."

  "I would rather have a set of authentic relics for my church," mused Queen Sollace.

  King Casmir, lost in thought, spoke absent-mindedly: "Yes, yes, my dear; so it shall be, just as you wish."

  Events, in fact, were not going to King Casmir's satisfaction. When spies left his employ, he liked to terminate the relationship in a definite manner, so that they might never sell their services elsewhere, and perhaps apply what they had learned to his detriment... . Slowly he became aware of Queen Sollace's voice: "—so Father Umphred assures me, is to buy before the need is recognized. He knows of three authentic splinters from the Holy Cross that we could acquire at this moment for a hundred crowns apiece. The Holy Grail itself is known to be somewhere about the Elder Isles, and Father Umphred has had the opportunity to buy maps providing exact—"

  Casmir demanded: "Woman, what are you talking about?"

  "The relics for the cathedral, of course!"

  "How can you talk of relics when the cathedral itself is no more than a hallucination?"

  Queen Sollace spoke with dignity. "Father Umphred declares that in time the Holy Lord will surely bring you to grace."

  "Ha. If the Holy Lord wants a cathedral so badly, let him build it himself."

  "I shall so pray!"

  Half an hour later King Casmir and Queen Sollace again passed by the statues, but now Valdez was nowhere to be seen.

  Chapter 4

  THE STAR REGULUS EASED AWAY from the jetty and with yards braced hard on the port tack, gathered way and departed Miraldra. King Casmir climbed to the poop deck and went to stand by the taff-rail. He raised his arm high toward the notables on the dock; his expression, placid and benign, indicated only satisfaction with his visit.

  The carrack, leaving the harbour, rose and fell to long swells from the west. Casmir descended the companionway and retired to the main saloon. He settled into the great chair and, gazing out the stern casements, mulled over the events of the past few days.

  Apparently, and for all to see, the visit had gone exactly to the precepts of courtly etiquette. Still, despite the exchange of public compliments, antipathy hung dark and heavy between the two kings.

  The scope of this mutual dislike puzzled King Casmir: where was its source? Casmir's memory for faces was exact; almost certainly he had known King Aillas in other less amiable circumstances. Long years before, Granice, then King of Troicinet, had visited Haidion at Lyonesse Town. His company had included Aillas, then an obscure little princeling not even reckoned in the line of royal succession. Casmir had barely noticed him. Could this child have created so mordant an impression? Most unlikely; Casmir, a practical man, wasted no emotion on trivial causes.

  The mystery weighed on Casmir's mind, especially since he felt that somewhere a significant p
ortent awaited his knowing. Aillas' face slipped in and out of mental focus, always pinched into an expression of cold hatred. The background remained indistinct. A dream? A magic spell? Or simple discord between the rulers of competing states?

  The problem chafed at Casmir's nerves until finally he thrust it aside. Still he gained no peace of mind. Everywhere obstacles worked to thwart his ambition... . Ultimately, so Casmir told himself, these barriers must break apart if only before the sheer brutal force of his will, but meanwhile they carked at his patience and troubled the ease of his existence.

  As King Casmir sat drumming his fingers along the arms of the chair and reflecting upon the circumstances of his life, a quandary five years old surfaced into his mind. This was the augury spoken by Persilian the Magic Mirror, on his own initiative: an occasion unique in itself. Persilian, without prompting of any sort, had called out a rasping, chanting fragment of doggerel. Casmir remembered only the gist of the words, something like: "Casmir, Casmir! Your daughter is Suldrun the Fair, and she is fey! Her first-born son before his death shall sit properly at Cairbra an Meadhan, nor shall you sit there nor on Evandig before him!"*

  *See Glossary III

  Casmir had uttered a poignant question: "But shall I sit at these places afterwards?"

  Persilian spoke no more. The mirror, with almost palpable malice, reflected only Casmir's face, distorted and congested with annoyance.

  Casmir had pondered the augury at length, especially when Suldrun died after yielding a single child to the royal household: the unpredictable and less than tractable Princess Madouc.

  The Star Regulus arrived at Lyonesse Town. King Casmir and the royal family, disembarking, stepped into a white double-sprung carriage drawn by four unicorns with gilded horns. Father Umphred thought to jump nimbly into the carriage, but was deterred by King Casmir's wordless glare. Smiling a bland smile, Umphred hopped back to the ground.

  The carriage rolled up the Sfer Arct to the portals of Haidion, where the palace staff waited in ranks of formal welcome. King Casmir gave them perfunctory nods and, entering the palace, repaired to his chambers and immediately immersed himself in the business of his kingdom.

  Two days later Casmir was approached by Doutain, his chief falconer. Doutain tendered a small capsule. "My lord, a pigeon in lading has returned to the west cote."

  King Casmir, instantly interested, said: "Reward the little creature well, with corn and millet!"

  Doutain replied: "It has already been done, your Majesty, and done well!"

  "Good work, Doutain," murmured King Casmir, his attention already fixed upon the message. He unfolded the wisp of paper and read:

  Your Highness:

  To my sorrow I have been posted to South Ufjland, to service of a most dreary and objectionable, sort. I can no lonqer maintain communication, certainly not in the immediate, future..

  The message was signed with a code symbol. "Hmf," said Casmir, and tossed the message into the fire. Later in the day Doutain appeared once again. "A pigeon has come down to the east cote, my lord."

  "Thank you, Doutain." The message, signed with a different symbol, read:

  Your Highness:

  For reasons beyond understanding I have been despatched to South Ulfland, where my duties are unlikely to accord either with my disposition or my inclination. This must, therefore, far the nonce, be my last communication.

  "Bah!" said King Casmir, and cast the message into the flames. He threw himself down into his chair, and tugged at his beard. The two messages: coincidence? Unlikely, though not impossible. Might Valdez have betrayed the two? But Valdez had been denied knowledge of their names.

  Still, it was interesting that Valdez had retired at this particular juncture. If he could be induced to return to Lyonesse, the truth might well be ascertained.

  Casmir grunted. Valdez was far too sly a fox to risk such a visit; though the sheer fact of his visit would almost certainly prove his faith.

  II

  QUEEN SOLLACE HAD LONG BEEN CONVERTED to Christianity and Father Umphred saw to it that her fervor remained fresh. Of late she had become beguiled by the concept of sanctity; twenty times a day she murmured to herself: "Holy Saint Sollace of Lyonesse!" And: "How fine it sounds! The Cathedral of the Blessed Saint Sollace!"

  Father Umphred, whose ambitions had never precluded the bishop's mitre, nor would he have scorned an arch-bishopric over all the Lyonesse Diocese, encouraged Sollace in her hopes for beatitude. "Dear queen, indeed! Of the seven holy acts, a noble house of prayer where none before existed affords our Lord God the most exalted refinement of bliss, and his joy consecrates those responsible! Ah, what glory gleams across the future! What singing in the choirs of heaven as they contemplate the cathedral soon to grace Lyonesse Town!"

  "I will so dedicate myself in every phase of my being!" declared Sollace. "Might we truly name this cathedral with my name?"

  "That decision must be affirmed by higher authority, but my influence carries weight! When the bells ring loud across the land and paternosters enrich the air, and King Casmir himself kneels before the altar to receive my benediction, who would deny the style ‘Sanctissima' to your name?"

  "'Sollace Sanctissima!' Yes! That is good! On this very day I will again bring our business to the attention of the king!"

  "What a victory when Casmir accepts the Gospel and comes to Jesus! The whole kingdom must then follow his lead!"

  Sollace pursed her lips. "We shall see, but let us try one victory at a time. If I am truly sanctified, the world will rejoice at the news, and his Majesty will be impressed!"

  "Precisely so! One step must follow on another!"

  During the evening, while Casmir stood with his back to the fire, Sollace entered the chamber. Father Umphred came behind but modestly slipped aside to stand in the shadows.

  Queen Sollace, aglow with hope, swept across the chamber and after exchanging civilities with the king, broached her concept of the noble cathedral, with towers on high and bells tolling the message of salvation far across the countryside. In her fervor she neglected to notice the narrowing of Casmir's round blue eyes and the constriction of his mouth. She described grandeur on a scale to amaze all Christendom: an edifice so majestic and rich that Lyonesse Town must surely become a destination of pilgrimage.

  King Casmir, hearing nothing to please him, at last spoke out: "What kind of wild talk is this? Has that fat priest been spewing nonsense again? I always know when you have seen him; he brings to your face something of his own look, which is that of a dying sheep!"

  Queen Sollace cried out indignantly: "My lord, you mistake the transports of holy rapture for the facial expression you so unkindly describe!"

  "No matter! He connives and lurks with crafty skill; I find him loitering wherever I look; indeed, I am much of a mind to send him packing."

  "Sir, reflect on this! The Cathedral of Saint Sollace would bear my name!"

  "Woman, have mercy! Can you imagine the cost of such an edifice? Enough to bankrupt the kingdom, while the priest trots here and there, smirking as he thinks how he has befuddled the King and Queen of Lyonesse!"

  "Not so, my lord! Father Umphred is known and respected in Rome itself! His single goal is the advancement of Christendom!"

  Casmir turned to kick the fire into a more active blaze. "I have heard of these cathedrals: treasure-houses of gold and jewels wrung from the folk of the land, who then cannot pay their taxes to the king."

  Queen Sollace said wistfully: "Our land is wealthy! It could support such a fine cathedral."

  Casmir chuckled. "Tell the priest to bring me gold from Rome, some of which I will spend on a fine church."

  Sollace said with dignity: "Good night, my lord. I am retiring to my chambers."

  King Casmir bowed and turned back to the fire, and so failed to notice the departure of Father Umphred from the room.

  III

  KING CASMIR'S FIRST URGENCY was to repair the damage done to his intelligence network. One afternoon h
e went to a chamber in the old wing of Haidion, in the squat Tower of Owls above the armoury. This room, furnished sparsely, had much experience of harsh judgments and quick justice.

  King Casmir, seating himself at the bare wooden table, poured wine from a white beechwood flagon into a white beechwood cup, and waited in stony calm.

  Minutes passed. King Casmir showed no impatience.

  In the corridor sounded a shuffle of feet and muttering voices. Oldebor, a functionary of no definite title*, looked through the door. "Your Majesty, will you see the prisoner?"

  *Oldebor liked to style himself: ‘Chief Under-chamberlain in Charge of Special Duties'.

  "Bring him in."

  Oldebor stepped forward into the room and gestured over his shoulder. Two jailers, in black leather aprons and conical leather hats, jerked on a chain and brought their prisoner stumbling into the room: a tall spare man in his early maturity, wearing a soiled shirt and ragged pantaloons. Despite his disheveled condition, the captive showed a notably good address; his posture, indeed, seemed incongruously easy, under the circumstances, and even a trifle contemptuous. In person, he was broad of shoulder, narrow at the hip, with long strong legs and the hands of an aristocrat. His hair, matted and dirty, was a thick black thatch; his eyes were clear hazel under a low forehead. Wide cheekbones converged to a narrow jaw; a high-bridged nose hooked over a bony chin. His skin, dark sallow-olive, seemed to show a curious plum-colored undertone, as if from the close flow of rich dark blood.

  One of the jailers, annoyed by the captive's composure, jerked again at the chain. "Show proper respect! You stand in the presence of the king!"

  The captive nodded toward King Casmir. "Good day to you, sir."

  King Casmir responded in an even voice: "Good day to you, Torqual. How have you found your confinement?"

  "Tolerable only, sir, and not for the fastidious."

  Another person came quietly into the room: a gentleman somewhat past his first youth, stocky, brisk as a robin, with good features, neat brown hair and clever brown eyes. He bowed. "Good day, my lord."