"There must have been the usual and ordinary intervals in between?"
"Dreams, my dear. Figments, wisps, sometimes a nightmare. But what of you?"
"It is simple. I do not know my father. My mother is a fairy from Thripsey Shee. I am seeking my father and with him my pedigree."
"And Sir Pom-Pom: what does he seek?"
"Sir Pom-Pom seeks the Holy Grail, in accordance with King Casmir"s proclamation."
"Ah! He is of religious persuasion?"
"Not so," said Sir Pom-Pom. "If I bring the Holy Grail to Queen Sollace, she will grant me a boon. I might well choose to marry the Princess Madouc, though she is as high-handed and vain as the artful little frippet who sits beside you now."
Travante glanced down at Madouc. "Could she possibly be one and the same individual?"
Sir Pom-Pom put on his most portentous frown. "There are certain facts we do not want generally known. Still, I can say this: you have guessed a good guess."
Madouc told Travante: "Another fact is not generally known, especially to Sir Pom-Pom. He must learn that his dreams of marriage and the boon have nothing to do with me."
Sir Pom-Pom said obstinately: "I can only rely upon the a.s.surances of Queen Sollace in this regard."
"So long as I control the Tinkle-toe Imp-spring, I will have the last word in this matter," said Madouc. She rose to her feet. "It is time we were on our way."
Travante said: "Sir Pom-Pom. I strongly suspect that you will never marry Madouc. I advise you to work toward a more accessible goal."
"I will give the matter thought," growled Sir Pom-Pom. The three set off to the north along Bidbottle Lane. "We make a notable company," declared Travante. "I am as I am! Sir Pom-Pom is strong and brave, while Madouc is clever and resourceful; also, with her copper-gold curls, her wry little face and her eyes of heartbreak blue she is both quaint and vastly appealing."
"She can also be a vixen, when it suits her mood," said Sir Pom-Pom.
III.
Bidbottle Lane wound north across the countryside: up hill and down dale, into the shade of the Wanswold Oaks, out across Scrimsour Downs. Overhead floated lazy white clouds; their shadows drifted across the landscape. The sun moved up the sky; as it reached the zenith, the three wayfarers arrived at Modoiry, where Bidbottle Lane met Old Street. Madouc and Sir Pom-Pom would proceed another three miles east to Little Saffield, then fare north beside the River Timble and on to the Forest of Tantrevalles. Travante intended to continue past Little Saffield to the Long Downs, that he might conduct his search among the dolmens of the Stollshot Circus.
As the three approached Little Saffield Madouc found herself increasingly disturbed by the prospect of parting with Travante, whose company she found both rea.s.suring and amusing; further, his presence seemed to discourage Sir Pom-Pom"s occasional tendencies toward pomposity. Madouc finally suggested that Travante accompany them, at least as far as Thripsey Shee.
Travante reflected upon the proposal. Then, somewhat dubiously, he said: "I know nothing of halflings; indeed, all my life I have been wary of them. Too many tales are told of their caprice and exaggerated conduct."
"In this case there is nothing to fear," said Madouc confidently. "My mother is both gracious and beautiful! She will surely be delighted to see me, and my friends as well, though I admit this is less certain. Still, she might well advise you in regard to your quest."
Sir Pom-Pom asked plaintively: "What of me? I also am engaged upon a quest."
"Patience, Sir Pom-Pom! Your wants are known!"
Travante came to a decision. "Well then, why not? I will welcome any advice, since I have had precious little luck searching on my own."
"Then you will come with us!"
"For just a bit, until you find me a bore."
"I doubt if that will ever occur," said Madouc. "I enjoy your company, and I am sure that Sir Pom-Pom does so as well."
"Really?" Travante looked half-incredulously from one to the other. "I consider myself drab and uninteresting."
"I would never use those words," said Madouc. "I think of you as a dreamer, perhaps a trifle-let us say-impractical, but your ideas are never dull."
"I am pleased to hear you say so. As I mentioned, I have no great opinion of myself."
"Whyever not?"
"For the most ordinary of reasons: I excel in nothing. I am neither a philosopher, nor a geometer, nor yet a poet. Never have I destroyed a horde of savage enemies, nor built a n.o.ble monument, nor ventured to the far places of the world. I lack all grandeur."
"You are not alone," said Madouc. "Few can claim such achievements."
"That means naught to me! I am I; I answer to myself, with no heed for others. I am persuaded that a life-span should not be futile and empty! For this reason I seek my lost youth, and with such special zeal."
"And if you were to find it, what would you do?"
"I would alter everything! I would become a person of enterprise; I would consider wasted the day that did not include the contriving of some wonderful plan, or the building of a fine object, or the righting of a wrong! So would pa.s.s each day, in marvellous deeds. Then each night I would gather my friends for an occasion which would be remembered forever! That is how life should be lived, to the best effort of one"s power! Now that I know the truth, the time is too late-unless I find what I seek."
Madouc turned to Sir Pom-Pom. "Have you been paying heed? These are lessons which you should take to heart, if only so that someday you may avoid Travante"s regrets."
"It is a sound philosophy," said Sir Pom-Pom. "I have occasionally thought along similar lines. However, while toiling at the royal stables I could not put such theories into effect. If I find the Holy Grail and earn a boon, I will take pains to live a more glorious life."
The three had now arrived at Little Saffield. The time was halfway through the afternoon: too late to proceed farther. The three repaired to the Black Ox Inn, to find all rooms occupied. They were given a choice of straw pallets in the garret among the rats, or the loft above the bar, where they might sleep in the hay, which option they selected.
In the morning the three set off to the north up Timble Lane. They pa.s.sed first through the village Tawn Timble, then the hamlet Glymwode, with the Forest of Tantrevalles a brooding dark line close ahead.
In a field they found a peasant digging turnips, who gave directions to Thripsey Shee on Madling Meadow. "It is not so far as the dog runs, but the lane winds and crooks, all the while taking you more deeply into the forest, meanwhile becoming no more than a track. You will come at last to a woodcutter"s hut; thereafter the track becomes a trace, but you must proceed farther still, until the forest breaks, and before you will be Madling Meadow."
"That seems simple enough," said Travante.
"So it is, but beware of the fairies of the shee! Above all, do not loiter after dusk or the imps will do you a mischief. They put donkey"s ears and a donkey"s utensil on poor Fottem, all because he made water on the meadow."
"We will surely be more mannerly," said Madouc.
The three went forward; the forest loomed dark and quiet ahead. The lane, now a track, veered to the east, then turned to plunge into the forest. Branches arched overhead; foliage blocked out the sky; the open country was gone and lost to view.
The track led deep into the forest. The air became cool and carried a hundred herbal scents. In the forest all colors were altered. Greens were various: greens of moss and fern, of wort, mallow, dock and tree-leaves in the sunlight. The browns were heavy and rich: black-brown and umber of the oak tree bole, russet and tan of forest floor. In the coverts, where the trees grew close and the foliage hung heavy, the shadows were deep, and tinged with maroon, indigo, black-green.
The three pa.s.sed the woodcutter"s hut; the track dwindled to a trail, winding between boles, across dim dells, over outcrops of black rock, finally a break in the trees and beyond: Madling Meadow. Madouc halted and told her companions: "You two must wait here for a time, while I go to find my mother. This will cause the least disturbance."
Sir Pom-Pom spoke in dissatisfaction. "That may not be the best idea! I want to put my questions as soon as possible-to strike while the iron is hot, so to speak!"
"That is not the way to deal with fairies," said Madouc. "If you try to guide them, or work them to your will, they only laugh and dodge and curvet off slantwise, and may refuse to speak at all."
"At least I can ask politely if they know anything whatever of the Grail. If not, we are only wasting our time and should hasten on to Weamish Isle."
"Be patient, Sir Pom-Pom! Remember, we are dealing with fairies! You must control your anxieties until I discover how the land lies."
Sir Pom-Pom said stiffly: "I am not a b.u.mpkin, after all; I too know how to deal with fairies."