King Casmir said sharply: "What of it?"
"I might be able to discover the name of this child, and his present domicile."
"How would you do this?"
"I cannot be sure at this exact moment. But there is more to the case than the information alone."
"Aha. You want something."
"I will not deny it. My great ambition is the Archbishopric of the Lyonesse Diocese. If I were to convert the King of Lyonesse to Christianity, there would be strong argument for my elevation to this post at the next Synod of Cardinals at Rome."
Casmir scowled. "In short, if I become a Christian, you will tell me the name of Suldrun"s child."
Father Umphred nodded and smiled. "In its ultimate essence, this is the case.""
Casmir spoke in a voice ominously flat. "You are a sly devil. Have you ever been stretched on the rack?"
"No, Your Highness."
"You are bold to the edge of insouciance! Were it not that Queen Sollace would never again give me peace, you would tell your tale without conditions, amidst gasps and squeals."
Father Umphred showed a sickly smile. "I intend no boldness and certainly no disrespect; indeed I hoped that Your Highness might take pleasure in my offer."
"Again: you are lucky that Queen Sollace is your sponsor! What is involved in conversion?"
"Simple baptism, and you must recite a few words of the litany."
"Ha hmm. It is no great thing." King Casmir considered, then spoke in a harsh voice: "Nothing will be changed, by so much as an iota! Do not presume upon your success! You will control none of the church monies; all funds must be paid into and out of the royal exchequer, with not a farthing for the popes of Rome!"
Father Umphred bleated a protest. "Your Highness, this makes for unwieldy administration!"
"It also makes for honest archbishops. Further, I will tolerate no swarms of itinerant monks, coming like flies on the waft of carrion, to feast and make merry on public funds. Such vagabonds will be whipped and seized into servitude, that they may do useful work."
"Your Highness!" cried Father Umphred aghast. "Some of these wandering priests are holy men of the first rank! They carry the Gospel to wild places of the world!"
"Let them wander on without pausing-to Tormous or Skorne or High Tartary, so long as I never see the bulge of their paunches nor the shine of their pates!"
Father Umphred heaved a sigh. "I am forced to agree; we will do what we can."
"Rejoice, priest!" said Casmir grimly. "Today your luck is good! You have gained your bargain and eased your fat limbs away from the rack. Tell me now your information!"
"It must be verified," said Father Umphred smoothly. "I shall have it ready tomorrow, after the ceremony."
King Casmir turned and strode off to his chambers.
The following day at noon Casmir repaired to the Queen"s small chapel. He stood silent while Father Umphred sprinkled him with holy water and recited phrases in unctuous Latin. Next, to Father Umphred"s prompting, he mumbled a Paternoster and a few phrases of litany. Thereupon, Father Umphred seized up a cross and advanced upon Casmir, the cross held high. "Down upon your knees, Brother Casmir! In humility and the full transports of your joy kiss the cross and dedicate your life to worshipful deeds and the glory of the Church!"
King Casmir spoke evenly: "Priest, guard your tongue! I brook no fools in my presence." He looked around the chapel and made a peremptory gesture to those who had attended the ceremony. "Leave us!"
The chapel was empty except for Casmir, the priest, and Queen Sollace, whom Casmir now addressed. "My dear queen, it might be well if, for the nonce, you also took yourself apart."
Queen Sollace vented a large sniff. Rigid with resentful dignity, she marched from the chapel.
King Casmir turned to the priest. "Now then! Tell me what you know! If it is either false or foolish, you will languish long in the dark."
"Your Highness, here is the truth! Long ago a young prince was washed up on the beach, half-drowned, at the foot of Suldrun"s garden. His name was Aillas, who is now King of Troicinet and elsewhere. Suldrun bore him a son-he who was taken to the Forest of Tantrevalles for safety. There the son, whose name was Dhrun, was changed by the fairies for Madouc. Aillas was consigned to the oubliette but escaped by some means beyond my knowledge. Now he hates you pa.s.sionately. His son, Prince Dhrun, holds you in no more affection."
Casmir listened slack-jawed. The information was far more surprising than he had expected. He muttered: "How is this possible? The son should be of an age with Madouc!"
"The child Dhrun bided a year in the fairy shee, as reckoned in human time. But this year equalled seven years or more of halfling time! So is resolved the paradox."
Casmir made a series of soft grunting sounds. "Do you have proof of what you say?"
"I have no proof."
Casmir did not press the point. There were facts in his possession which had long puzzled him: why, for instance, had Ehirme, Suidrun"s one-time servitor, been spirited away to Troicinet with all her family and there endowed with a rich estate? Even more baffling was a fact which had caused a thousand marvelling conjectures: how could Aillas be so near in age to his son Dhrun? Now, all was explained.
The facts were just and true. Casmir said in a heavy voice: "Speak nothing of this, into any ears whatever! It must be known only to me!"
"Your Highness has spoken and I will obey!"
"Go."
Father Umphred hurried importantly from the chapel. Casmir stood gazing unseeingly toward the cross on the wall, which meant no more to him now than yesterday. He spoke to himself: "Aillas hates me well!" Then, in a voice even more soft: "And it is Dhrun who will sit at Cairbra an Meadhan-before his death. So be it! He shall so sit and he will rule from the throne Evandig, if it is only to send a page off for a kerchief. But so, before his death, shall he sit and so shall he rule."
VII.
Evening came to Haidion Castle. King Casmir, sitting alone in the Great Hall of the Old Tower, took an austere supper of cold beef and ale. Upon finishing his meal, he swung about, to sit gazing into the fire. He sent his memory back across the years. Images fleeted and flickered: Suldrun as a golden-haired child; Suldrun as he had last seen her: woebegone but still defiant. Presently he glimpsed the haggard youth he had dropped with such bleak fury into the oubliette. Time blurred the drawn white face, but now it wore the semblance of a young Aillas. So it had been! How Aillas must hate him! What yearnings for sweet revenge must control the mind of Aillas!
Casmir gave a soft dismal grunt. Recent events must now be considered from a new perspective. Aillas, by a.s.suming sovereignty over North and South Ulfiand, had thwarted Casmir in his goals, and had only just done so again in connection with Blaloc. What artful dissimulation Aillas and Dhrun had used during their visit! How blandly they had urged pacts of peace, all the while despising him and conspiring for his doom!
Casmir pulled himself up in his chair. It was now time for counterblows, harsh and definite, though still controlled, as always, by prudence; Casmir was not one to indulge in rash acts which might react against his own best interests. At the same time, he must discover a method by which the prophecy of Persilian could be voided and its meaning vitiated.
Casmir sat ruminating, weighing his options and reckoning the value of each. Clearly, if Aillas were dead, Casmir"s interests must be advanced. In such a case, Dhrun would become king. At this juncture, so Casmir reasoned, a colloquy at Avallon could easily be arranged, on one pretext or another. Dhrun would be seated at Cairbra an Meadhan and somehow persuaded to issue an order from the throne Evandig. The rest would be routine: a movement in the shadows, a glint of steel, a sad cry, a body on the floor-and Casmir would pursue his goals free of fear and almost unopposed.
The plan was straightforward and logical, and needed only implementation.
First: the death of Aillas must be effectuated, but within the constraints of prudence. a.s.sa.s.sination of a king is a risky affair, and a bungled attempt usually leaves a clear trail to the instigator, which would not be advantageous.
A name entered Casmir"s mind as if by its own force. Torqual.
Casmir pondered at some length. Torqual"s qualifications were superb, but he was not easily controlled. In fact, he was not to be controlled at all. Torqual often seemed as much enemy as ally, and barely troubled to maintain a cynical pretense of cooperation.
With regret, Casmir put aside the name "Torqual". Almost immediately another name entered his mind, and this time Casmir leaned back in his seat, nodding thoughtfully to himself and feeling no misgivings whatever. The name was "Sir Cory of Falonges"*_and it referred to a man more or less of Torqual"s stripe. Sir Cory"s willing cooperation, however, could be taken for granted, since he now crouched deep in a dungeon under the Peinhador awaiting the stroke of Zerling"s axe. By acceding to King Casmir"s wishes, Sir Cory, so it seemed, had everything to gain and nothing to lose.
*NOTE: The honorific "Sir" is here used to designate persons born to n.o.ble estate, without reference to their place in the exactly gradated hierarchy. The contemporary language uses a multiplicity of t.i.tles and honorifics to specify each subtle distinction; these would be impractical to render in the present chronicle. Hence "Sir Cory" is designated by the same honorific as his father, the landed baron "Sir Claunay", and his brother, "Sir Camwyd", even though their absolute ranks are greatly at variance.
Casmir signalled to the footman who stood by the door. "Fetch me Sir Erls."