The square was boisterous with the sights and sounds of a festival. A thousand torches burnt on high; a thousand green and blue banners with a yellow bird appliqued on high. At the center two great birds constructed of bound straw bundles and ropes faced each other. On a platform men and women costumed as fanciful birds pranced, bobbed and kicked to the music of pipes and drums.
A man costumed as a white rooster, with red comb, yellow bill, white feathered wings and tail strutted past. Carfilhiot clutched his arm. "Sir, one moment! Enlighten me, where is this place?"
The man-chicken crowed in derision. "Have you no eyes? No ears?
This is the Avian Arts Grand Gala!"
"Yes, but where?"
"Where else? This is the Kaspodel, at the center of the city!"
"But what city? What realm?"
"Are you lost of your senses? This is Gargano!"
"In Pomperol?"
"Precisely so. Where are your tail feathers? King Deuel has ordained tail-feathers for the gala! Notice my display!" The manchicken ran in a circle, strutting and bobbing, so as to flourish his handsome tail-plumes; then he continued on his way.
Carfilhiot leaned against the building, gritting his teeth in fury. He carried neither coins, nor jewels, nor gold; he knew no friends among the folk of Gargano; indeed Mad King Deuel considered Carfilhiot a dangerous bird-killer and an enemy.
To the side of the square Carfilhiot noted the boards of an inn: the Pear Tree. He presented himself to the innkeeper only to learn that the inn was occupied to capacity. Carfilhiot's most aristocratic manner earned him no more than a bench in the commonroom near a group of celebrants who caroused, wrangled and sang such songs as Fesker Would a-Wooing Go, Tirra-Lirra-Lay, Milady Ostrich and Noble Sir Sparrow. An hour before dawn they tumbled forward across the table to lie snoring among gnawed pig's feet and puddles of spilled wine. Carfilhiot was allowed to sleep until two hours into the morning, when charwomen came with mops and buckets, and turned everyone outside.
Celebration of the festival already had reached a crescendo.
Everywhere fluttered banners and streamers of blue, green and yellow. Pipers played jigs while folk costumed as birds capered and pranced. Everyone used a characteristic bird-call, so tha the air resounded to twitterings, chirps, whistles and croaks.
Children dressed as barn-swallows, gold-finches, or tom-tits; older folk favored the more sedate semblances, such as that of crow, raven or perhaps a jay. The corpulent often presented themselves as owls, but in general everyone costumed himself as fancy directed.
The color, noise and festivity failed to elevate Carfilhiot's mood; in fact—so he told himself—never had he witnessed so much pointless nonsense. He had rested poorly and eaten nothing, which served to exacerbate his mood.
A bun-seller dressed as a quail passed by; Carfilhiot bought a mince-tart, using a silver button from his coat for payment. He ate standing before the inn, with aloof and disdainful glances for the revelry.
A band of youths chanced to notice Carfilhiot's sneers and stopped short. "Here now! This is the Grand Gala! You must show a happy smile, so as not to be at discord!"
Another cried out: "What? No gay plumage? No tail-feathers? They are required of every celebrant!"
"Come now!" declared another. "We must set things right!" Going behind Carfilhiot he tried to tuck a long white goose quill into Carfilhiot's waist-band. Carfilhiot would have none of it, and thrust the youth away.
The others in the band became more determined than ever and a scuffle ensued, in which shouts, curses and blows were exchanged.
From the street came a stern call. "Here, here! Why this disgraceful uproar?" Mad King Deuel himself, passing by in a befeathered carriage, had halted to issue a reprimand.
One of the youths cried out: "The fault lies with this dismal vagabond! He won't wear his tail-feathers. We tried to help him and cited your Majesty's ordinance; he said to shove all our feathers up your Majesty's arse!"
King Deuel shifted his attention to Carfilhiot. "He did so, did he? That is not polite. We know a trick worth two of that. Guards!
Attendants!"
Carfilhiot was seized and bent over a bench. The seat of his trousers was cut away, and into his buttocks were thrust a hundred quills of all sizes, lengths and colors, including a pair of expensive ostrich plumes. The ends of the quills were cut into barbs to prevent their detachment, and they were arranged to support each other so that the plumage, upon completion, thrust up from Carh'lhiot's fundament at a jaunty angle.
"Excellent!" declared King Deuel, clapping his hands in satisfaction. "That is a splendid display, in which you can take pride. Go, now. Enjoy the festival to your heart's content! Now you are properly bedizened!"
The carriage rolled away; the youths appraised Carfilhiot with critical eyes, but agreed that his plumage captured the mood of the festival, and they too went their way.
Carfilhiot walked stiff-legged to a crossroads at the edge of town. A sign-post pointed north to Avallon.
Carfilhiot waited, meanwhile plucking the feathers one by one from his buttocks.
A cart came from town, driven by an old peasant woman. Carfilhiot held up his hand to halt the cart. "Where do you drive yourself, grandmother?"
"To the village Filster, in the Deepdene, if that means aught to you."
Carfilhiot showed the ring on his finger. "Look well at this ruby!"
The old woman peered. "I see it well. It glows like red fire! I often marvel that such stones grow in the deep dark of the earth!"
"Another marveclass="underline" this ruby, so small, will buy twenty horses and carts like that one which you ride."
The old woman blinked. "Well, I must believe your word. Would you halt me in my home-going to tell me lies?"
"Now listen carefully, as I am about to state a proposition of several parts."
"Speak on; say what you will! I can think three thoughts at once."
"I am bound for Avallon. My legs are sore; I can neither walk nor sit astride a horse. I wish to ride in your cart, that I may come to Avallon in comfort. Therefore, if you will drive me to Avallon, ring and ruby are yours."
The woman held up her forefinger. "Better! We drive to Filster, thence my son Raffin puts straw in the cart and then drives you to Avallon. So all behind-hand whispers and rumors at my expense are halted before they start."
"This will be satisfactory."
Carfilhiot alighted from the cart at the sign of the Fishing Cat and gave over the ruby ring to Raffin who immediately departed.
Carfilhiot entered the inn. Behind a counter stood a monstrous man half a foot taller than Carfilhiot, with a great red face and a belly which rested on the counter. He looked down at Carfilhiot with eyes like stone pebbles. "What do you wish?"
"I want to find Rughalt of the sore knees. He said that you would know where to find him."
The fat man, taking exception to Carfilhiot's manner, looked away.
He worked his fingers up and down the counter. At last he uttered a few terse words. "He will arrive presently."
"How soon is 'presently'?"
"Half an hour."
"I will wait. Bring me one of those roasting chickens, a loaf of new bread and a flask of good wine."
"Show me your coin."
"When Rughalt comes."
"When Rughalt comes, I will serve the fowl."
Carfilhiot swung away with a muttered curse; the fat man looked after him without change of expression.
Carfilhiot seated himself on a bench before the inn. Rughalt at last showed himself, moving his legs slowly and carefully, one at a time, hissing under his breath the while with a frowning eye, Carfilhiot watched Rughalt's approach. Rughalt wore the fusty gray garments of a pedagogue.
Carfilhiot rose to his feet; Rughalt stopped short in surprise.
"Sir Faude!" he exclaimed. "What do you do here, in such a condition?"
"Through treachery and witchcraft; how else? Take me to a decent inn; this place is fit only for Celts and lepers."