Madouc

"Why not?" asked Madouc reasonably. "Truth is truth."

Devonet blinked, trying to grasp not only the sense but also the overtones of Madouc's remarks. She asked cautiously: "So you never learned the name of your father?"

"I learned his name, well enough. He announced himself to my mother as Sir Pellinore, but unless they undertook marriage vows at almost the same instant they met-and my mother does not remember such a ceremony-I am still a bastard."

"What a pity, after all your longing for a pedigree and respectable lineage!"

Madouc sighed. "I have stopped caring about such things, since they are not to be mine. Sir Pellinore may still exist, but I suspect that I shall never know him."

"You need not grieve!" declared Devonet, "since now I will be your dear friend!"

"Excuse me," said Madouc. "I am reminded of an errand I have neglected."

Madouc went around to the stables to search out Sir Pom-Pom, only to learn that he had been killed in the battle at Breeknock Barrens. Madouc slowly returned to the castle, musing as she went. "The world now lacks a ‘Sir Pom-Pom', with all his funny ways! I wonder where he is now? Or is he anywhere at all? Can someone be nowhere?" She pondered the matter an hour or more, but could find no decisive answer to the question.

Late in the afternoon Madouc discovered to her delight that Shimrod had arrived at Haidion. He had been with Aillas and Dhrun at Watershade, and brought news that Glyneth had borne a baby girl, the Princess Serle. He reported that Aillas and Dhrun would return by ship in a day or two; Glyneth would remain at Watershade for yet another month.

"I have no patience for travelling either by horse or by ship," said Shimrod. "When I discovered that you had come to Haidion I decided on the instant to join you and the next instant I was here."

"I am happy that you are here," said Madouc. "Although, if the truth be known, I have almost enjoyed the time alone."

"How have you been occupying yourself?"

"The days go by quickly. I visit the library, where I confer with Kerce the librarian and read books. Once I went up the cloisters, through Zoltra Bright-Star's Gate and out on the Urquial. I went close to the Peinhador, so that when I looked at the ground I could imagine King Casmir sitting deep below me in the dark. The thought made me feel strange. I went back across the Urquial and pushed through the old gate so that I could look into Suldrun's garden, but I did not go down the path; the garden is far too quiet. Today I went out to the stables, and I found that poor Sir Pom-Pom had been killed in Dahaut and now is dead. I can hardly believe it, since he was so full of foolishness. His life barely got started before it was done."

"Once I spoke along similar lines to Murgen," said Shimrod. "His response was not exactly to the point, and it puzzles me to this day-to some extent, at least."

"What did he say?"

"First he leaned back in his chair and looked into the fire. Then he said: ‘Life is a peculiar commodity, with dimensions of its own. Still, if you were to live a million years, engaged in continual pleasures of mind, spirit and body; so that every day you discovered a new delight, or solved an antique puzzle, or overcame a challenge; even a single hour wasted in torpor, somnolence or passivity would be as reprehensible as if the fault were committed by an ordinary person, with scanty years to his life.'

"Hm," said Madouc. "He gave you no exact information, or so it seems to me."

"This was my own feeling," said Shimrod. "However, I did not assert as much to Murgen."

Madouc said thoughtfully: "It might be that he was confused by your question and gave the first answer that entered his mind."

"Possibly so. You are a clever girl, Madouc! I will now consider the matter an insoluble mystery and dismiss it from my mind."

Madouc sighed. "I wish I could do the same."

"What mysteries trouble you so seriously?"

"First is the mystery of where I will live. I do not care to stay at Haidion. Miraldra is too cold and misty and too far. Watershade is peaceful and beautiful, but nothing ever happens and I would soon become lonely."

"At Trilda I too am often lonely," said Shimrod. "I invite you, therefore, to visit me at Trilda, where you shall stay as long as you like-certainly until Aillas builds his palace Alcyone. Dhrun would come often to join us and you surely would not be lonely."

Madouc could not restrain a cry of excitement. "Would you teach me magic?"

"As much as you cared to learn. It is not easy, and in fact surpasses the ability of most folk who try."

"I would work hard! I might even become useful to you!"

"Who knows? It is possible!"

Madouc threw her arms around Shimrod. "At least I feel as if I have a home!"

"Then it is settled."

On the next day Aillas and Dhrun returned to Lyonesse Town, and immediately all departed Haidion. Shimrod and Madouc would turn off Old Street at Tawn Twillett and ride north to Trilda; Aillas and Dhrun would proceed along Old Street to Tatwillow and Castle Ronart Cinquelon.

Along the way the group came to Sarris, where Aillas chose to sojourn for two or three days of banqueting, good-fellowship and irresponsibility. Dhrun and Madouc wandered out on the lawn which sloped down to the River Glame. In the shade of a great oak with wide-sprawling branches they paused. Dhrun asked: "Do you remember how you hid behind this very tree to escape the attention of poor Prince Bittern?"

"I remember very well. You must have thought me a very strange creature to go to such lengths."

Dhrun shook his head. "I thought you amusing and altogether remarkable-as I do now."

"More now than then, or less?"

Dhrun took her hands. "Now you are begging for compliments."

Madouc looked up at him. "But you still haven't told me-and I value your compliments."

Dhrun laughed. "More, of course! When you look up at me with your blue eyes I become weak."

Madouc held up her face. "All this being the case, you may kiss me."

Dhrun kissed her. "I thank you for your permission, although I was about to kiss you anyway."

"Dhrun! You frighten me with your savage lust!"

"Do I indeed?" Dhrun kissed her again, and again. Madouc stood back, breathing hard.

"Now then," said Dhrun. "What of that?"

"I cannot understand why I feel so odd."

"I think I know," said Dhrun. "But there is no time to explain now, since the footman is coming to call us." He turned to leave, but waited as Madouc knelt beside the oak. Dhrun asked: "What are you doing?"

"There is someone missing. She should be here."

"Who might that be?"

"My mother, Twisk! It is my duty as a daughter to invite her to an occasion so merry!"

"Do you think she will come?"

"I will call her." Madouc selected a blade of grass and made a grass flute. She played a piping note and sang:

‘Lirra lissa larra lass Madouc has made a flute of grass.

Softly blowing, wild and free She calls to Twisk at Thripsey Shee,

Lirra lissa larra leer A daughter calls her mother dear!

Tread the wind and vault the mere;

Span the sky and meet me here.

So sing I, Madouc.'

In a swirl of vapor Twisk appeared. Her delicate features were placid, her blue hair coiffed into a crest along the top of her scalp and engaged in a silver mesh.

Madouc cried out in delight: "Mother, you are more beautiful than ever! I marvel at you!"

Twisk smiled with cool amusement. "I am pleased to merit your approval. Dhrun, I must say that you present yourself most agreeably. Your early training has served you well."

"So it may be," said Dhrun politely. "I shall never forget it, certainly."

Twisk turned back to Madouc. "Our compliments have been exchanged; what was your purpose in calling me?"

"I wanted you, my dear mother, on hand to share our merriment at a banquet, which even now is about to begin. It is a small but select occasion, and we will take pleasure in your company."