"Never a naked princess," said Sir Pom-Pom with a grin.
"That is sheer nonsense," said Madouc in disgust. "We are much alike, all of us. There is truly nothing noteworthy to see."
"Still, I prefer it to looking at the back end of Juno."
"Stare as you like," said Madouc. "I cannot be bothered with your foolishness."
"It is not total foolishness, as you put it," said Sir Pom-Pom. "I have a sound and practical reason for making a close inspection."
"What is that?"
"Should I return with the Holy Grail, my boon might ent.i.tle me to wed the royal princess. Therefore I thought it sensible to discover just what advantages such a choice might entail. For a fact, I see nothing which arouses any great enthusiasm."
Madouc struggled for words. At last she said: "Since you seem to be idle, I suggest that you strike up a fire and boil us a soup for our noon meal."
Sir Pom-Pom drew his face back through the foliage. Madouc stepped from the water, dressed and returned to the road. As the two sat in the shade of a great elm tree, eating their soup, they observed the approach of three persons on foot: a short plump man, a woman of similar proportions and an urchin, undersized, pasty-gray of skin, seemingly all legs and head. As they drew close, Madouc recognized the three clowns who had performed at the Abatty Dell fair.
The three approached and halted. "A very good day to you both," said the man, who had a round face, coa.r.s.e black hair, a little bulb of a nose and bright protuberant black eyes.
"I echo this sentiment," declared the woman, who like the man showed a round flexible face, black hair, round black eyes and a pink stub of a nose.
"Good day to you as well," said Madouc.
The man glanced into the pot where simmered the soup. "May we sit here in the shade and take a brief respite from our trudging?"
"The shade is free," said Sir Pom-Pom. "Rest where you like."
"Your words falls kindly on the ear!" said the woman gratefully. "The way is long and I go with difficulty, and sometimes pain, by reason of my ailment."
The three settled cross-legged in the shade. "Allow me to make introductions," said the man. "I am Filemon, Master of Mirth. Here sits Dame Corcas, no less skilled in merry antics. And here, small but doughty, is our little Mikelaus. He is not altogether cheerful, and perhaps somewhat ill, since he has had no breakfast today. Am I right, poor Mikelaus, sad little tyke that you are?"
"Arum. Boskatch. Gaspa conf.a.ga."
Sir Pom-Pom blinked. "What did he say?"
Filemon chuckled. "Mikelaus has an odd way of speaking, which is not clear to everyone."
Dame Corcas explained, with delicate precision: "He inquired, quite clearly: "What is cooking in the pot?"
"It is our meal," said Sir Pom-Pom. "I have boiled up a soup of ham, onions and beans."
Mikelaus spoke again: "Vogenard. Fistilla."
Filemon said reprovingly: "Impossible, Mikelaus! It is not our food, no matter how much you crave sustenance."
Dame Corcas said: "Perhaps these kind folk might spare him just a taste, to keep the spirit of life awake in his poor little soul."
Madouc said: "I suppose that is possible. Sir Pom-Pom, serve a portion of soup to the creature."
Sir Pom-Pom glumly did as bidden. Dame Corcas reached to take the bowl. "I must make sure that it is not too hot; other wise Mikelaus will burn himself." She spooned up a portion of the soup, along with a goodly chunk of ham and tested it. "It is still far too hot for Mikelaus!"
Filemon scoffed at her caution. "Probably not! Mikelaus has the gut of a salamander! Let me verify the temperature." He took the bowl and raised it to his lips. "That is excellent soup, but you are right; it is far too hot for Mikelaus."
"There is little left in the bowl," said Sir Pom-Pom.
Mikelaus said: "Gamkarch noop. Bosumelists."
"You must not be greedy!" admonished Dame Corcas. "This young gentleman will surely make up more soup if there is not enough."
Madouc, seeing the way the wind blew, heaved a sigh. "Very well, Sir Pom-Pom. Serve around the soup. I cannot eat with these hungry creatures watching my every mouthful."
Sir Pom-Pom growled: "I made only enough for our needs."
"No problem whatever!" declared Filemon with enthusiasm. "When good comrades meet along the road, they share each with each, and all rejoice in mutual amplitude! I notice yonder a fine b.u.t.t of ham, onions, bread, cheese, and unless my eyes deceive me, a bottle of wine! We shall have a true banquet, here along the road, to which each shall give of his best! Corcas, you must make yourself useful! a.s.sist this young gentleman with the fine boots!"
Dame Corcas sprang to her feet, and so swiftly that Sir Pom Pom could hardly follow the movement of her hands, she had thrown great chunks of ham into the pot, along with half a dozen onions, and three handfuls of oaten flour. While Sir Pom-Pom and Madouc watched in bemus.e.m.e.nt, Filemon had brought out the bottle of wine, and had tasted its contents.
Mikelaus said: "Arum. Cangel."
"Why not?" said Filemon. "You are poor, miserable, and misshapen, and only two feet tall; still, why should you not enjoy a sip of wine from time to time, along with the rest of your merry comrades?" He pa.s.sed the bottle to Mikelaus, who tilted it high into the air.
"Enough!" cried Dame Corcas. "While I stand here stirring the pot, and smoke finding the sure way to my eyes, you two consume all the wine! Put the bottle aside! Entertain these two fine folk with your jolly antics."
"Just one more swallow," begged Filemon. "It will lubricate my lips for the fife."
He drank more wine, then brought a fife from his pocket. "Now then, Mikelaus! You must earn your soup! Show us your best hornpipe!"
Filemon played a lively tune, of skirling runs and quick returns, with trills high and warbles low, while Mikelaus danced a wild jig of kicking legs and knees brought high, ending all with a forward and backward somersault.
"Good work, Mikelaus!" cried Dame Corcas. "Perhaps our friends will favor you with a coin or two, as is the habit of the gentry!"
Sir Pom-Pom growled: "Be content that you devour our food and swill our wine."
Filemon put on a face of moist reproach, his eyes large and round. "We are comrades of the road-vagabonds of the same far horizons! Is it not share with one, share with all? Those are the rules of the gallant wayfarers!"
"If this is true, I prefer otherwise," muttered Sir Pom-Pom. Dame Corcas emitted a sudden groan. "Ah! How the pangs do bite! It is my ailment; I have overexerted myself, as is my wont! Always I do too much for others! Filemon, my potion: where is it?"
"In your pouch, my dear, as always!"
"Ah indeed! I must limit my exertions, or I may well become ill!
Sir Pom-Pom said: "We saw you at the fair. You were bounding about with great agility. Filemon threw Mikelaus high in the air, and you ran like the wind to catch him in the net."
Mikelaus said: "Gurgo arraska, selvo sorarsio!" Dame Corcas said: "Yes, it was a shameful failure, for which we can blame the dog."
"Bismal darstid: mango ki-yi-yi."
"Whatever the case," said Dame Corcas, "the trick takes much out of me! I suffer for days afterward, but our public demands the spectacle; they know us of yore and we cannot disappoint them!"