Late in the afternoon the wagon passed King Deuel's summer palace.
For the day's entertainment King Deuel had ordained a pageant entitled: "Birds of Fantasy." With great artistry his courtiers had bedecked themselves in black and white feathers, to simulate imaginary sea-birds. Their ladies had been allowed more latitude and they promenaded along the greensward in total avian extravagance, using the plumes of ostrich, egret, lyrebirds, peacocks and vesprils. Some wore confections of pale green, others cerise or mauve or golden-ochre: a prospect of the most gorgeous complexity, and one enjoyed to its fullest by Mad King Deuel, who sat on a tall throne, costumed as a cardinal, the only red bird of the pageant. He was enthusiastic in his praises and called out compliments, pointing with tip of his red wing.
Carfilhiot, recalling his previous encounter with King Deuel, pulled the wagon up short. He considered a moment, then descended and called Glyneth down to the road.
He instructed her in terms which admitted of neither argument nor flexibility. She lowered the side panel to make a platform, brought out her basket, and with Dhrun playing the pipes, set her cats to dancing.
The ladies and gentlemen in their remarkable finery came to watch; they laughed and clapped their hands, and some of them went to call King Deuel's attention to the novel exercises.
King Deuel presently stepped down from his throne and sauntered across the sward to watch the display. He smiled and nodded, but he was not altogether uncritical. "I see here an ingenious effort, to be sure, and the antics are amusing enough. Ha! Excellent saltation there! That black cat is agile! Still it must be remembered that the feline is a lesser order, when all is said.
Dare I ask why we have no dancing birds?"
Carfilhiot spoke up. "Your Majesty, I sequester the dancing birds within the wagon! We deem them too exquisite for the common view!"
Mad King Deuel spoke haughtily: "Do you then characterize my august vision as vulgar and common, or anything other than sublime?"
"Indeed not, your Majesty! You are welcome, and you alone, to inspect the extraordinary spectacle inside the wagon."
King Deuel, mollified, marched to the back of the wagon. "A
moment, your Majesty!" Carfilhiot closed the side panel, cats and all, and went to the rear. "Glyneth, inside! Dhrun, inside!
Prepare the birds for his Majesty. Now, sir, up these steps, and in with you!"
He closed and barred the door, and climbing to the front seat, drove away at a mad gallop. The befeathered ladies looked after in puzzlement; some of the men ran a few steps along the road but were impeded by their black and white plumage, and so, with wings trailing, they returned to the sward before the summer palace, where they tried to fit some pattern of logic upon the occurrence.
Within the wagon King Deuel shouted out orders: "Halt this vehicle at once! I see no birds whatever! This is a most insipid prank!"
Carfilhiot called down through the window: "In due course, your Majesty, I will halt the wagon. Then we shall discuss the plumes and quills that you decreed for my backside!"
King Deuel became silent and for the rest of the day made only fretful clucking sounds.
The day drew toward a close. In the south appeared a line of low gray hills; an outlying arm of Forest Tantrevalles lay dark across the north. Peasant huts became rare and the land tended toward the wild and melancholy.
At sunset Carfilhiot drove the wagon across a meadow to a copse of elms and beeches.
As before Carfilhiot unharnessed the horses and put them to graze on a long tether, while Glyneth cooked the supper. King Deuel refused to leave the wagon, and Dhrun, still feigning blindness, sat on a fallen log.
Glyneth brought soup to King Deuel and served him bread and cheese as well; then she went to sit by Dhrun. They spoke in low voices.
Dhrun said: "He pretends not to watch you, but everywhere you go his eyes follow."
"Dhrun, don't become reckless. He can kill us, but that is the worst he can do."
Dhrun said through clenched teeth: "I won't allow him to touch you. I will die first."
Glyneth whispered: "I've thought of something, so don't worry.
Remember, you are still blind!"
Carfilhiot rose to his feet. "Dhrun, into the wagon with you."
Dhrun said sullenly: "I intend to stay with Glyneth."
Carfilhiot seized him, carried him kicking and fighting to the wagon and thrust him inside and barred the door. He turned toward Glyneth. "Tonight there are no trees to climb."
Glyneth backed away. Carfilhiot came after her. Glyneth sauntered to the horses. "Friends," she said, "here is the creature who drives you so hard, and whips your naked backsides."
"Yes, so I see."
"I see with both heads at once."
Carfilhiot cocked his head to the side, and approached slowly.
"Glyneth! Look at me!"
"I see you well enough," said Glyneth. "Go away, or the horses will trample you."
Carfilhiot halted and looked at the horses, their white eyes and stiff manes. Opening their mouths they showed long forked fangs.
One of them suddenly rose on his hind legs and struck down at Carfilhiot with the talons of its front feet.
Carfilhiot retreated to where he could climb upon the wagon if necessary, and stood glowering. The horses lowered their manes, sheathed their talons, and once more began to graze.
Glyneth strolled back to the wagon. Carfilhiot jerked forward.
Glyneth stopped still. The horses raised their heads and looked toward Carfilhiot. Their manes began to rise. Carfilhiot made an angry gesture and climbed to the seat of the wagon.
Glyneth opened the back door. She and Dhrun made a bed under the wagon and rested undisturbed.
On a morning dreary with spatters of rain, the wagon passed from Pomperol into west Dahaut and entered the Forest of Tantrevalles.
Carfilhiot, hunched on the front seat, drove at reckless speed, wielding his whip with abandon, and the black horses ran foaming through the forest. At noon Carfilhiot turned off the road to follow a dim lane which climbed the slopes of a rocky hill, to arrive at Faroli, the octagonal multi-leveled manse of Tamurello the Sorcerer.
By three sets of invisible hands Carfilhiot had been bathed and groomed, lathered head to toe with sweet sap of dimity. He had been scraped with a white boxwood paddle and rinsed in warm water scented with lavender, so that his fatigue had become no more than a delightful languor. He dressed in a shirt of black and crimson and a robe of dark gold. An invisible hand tendered him a goblet of pomegranate wine, which he drank, then stretched his beautiful easy limbs like a lazy animal. For a few moments he stood in reflection, wondering how best to have his way with Tamurello.
Much depended upon Tamurello's mood, whether it were active or passive. Carfilhiot must control these moods as a musician controls his music. Finally he left the chamber and joined Tamurello in the center saloon, where on all sides tall panes of glass overlooked the forest.
Tamurello seldom showed himself in his natural similitude, preferring always a guise from among the dozens at his command.
Carfilhiot had seen him in a variety of phases, more or less beguiling, but all memorable. Tonight he was an elderkin of the falloys, in a sea-green robe and a crown of silver cusps. He used white hair and silver-pale skin, with green eyes. Carfilhiot had seen this semblance before and had no great love for its extremely subtle perceptions and the delicate precision of its demands. As always, when confronted with the falloy elderkin, Carfilhiot adopted a manner of taciturn strength.
The elderkin inquired as to his comfort. "You are refreshed, I hope?"
"I have known several days of hardship, but I am once more comfortable."
The elderkin turned a smiling glance out the window. "This misfortune of yours—how curious and unexpected!"
Carfilhiot replied in a neutral voice: "For the whole of my inconvenience I blame Melancthe."