"There is no help for it! I must ride to find her, so that she will not be in an agony of despair. Luckily, the way is not long." He turned to Sir Pom-Pom. "Sir, I must beg the use of your horse Fustis! I take the blame for the entire inconvenience! But Mikelaus will make himself handy during my short absence. Mikelaus, hear me now and hear me well! I do not want to learn of your shirking! Show this gentleman to the hayrick, then gather sticks for a fire. Further, I entrust you with a jar of my special wax. I want you to polish this gentleman"s boots, and polish them until they shine like gla.s.s. It is the very least you can do for our friends until I return with Dame Corcas!" He sprang into the saddle which Sir Pom-Pom had only just vacated and galloped off down the road.
"Hoy!" called Sir Pom-Pom after him. "At least leave behind the saddlebags, that we may make our supper in your absence!"
But Filemon failed either to hear or to heed and was soon lost to sight.
Sir Pom-Pom looked into the hut, then backed away. "I believe that I will sleep out in the open, where the must is less intense."
"I will do likewise, since the night promises to be fine," said Madouc.
Sir Pom-Pom and Mikelaus brought straw from an old rick and laid it down to make soft sweet-smelling beds. Then Sir Pom-Pom struck up a fire, but without saddlebags they could only look glumly into the flames and wait with what patience they could muster for the return of Filemon and Dame Corcas with their horses.
The sun sank low and disappeared behind the far hills. Sir Pom-Pom went to look along the road but discovered neither sight nor sound of either Dame Corcas or Filemon.
He returned to the fire and pulled off his boots. Mikelaus at once took them aside and began to polish them, using Filemon"s special wax. Sir Pom-Pom spoke in surly tones: "I do not care to sit up until midnight. I will now lie down to sleep, which is the best remedy for an empty stomach."
"I believe I will do the same," said Madouc. "Mikelaus may well stay up to wait; he has the polishing of your boots to occupy his time."
For a period Madouc lay awake watching the stars drift past overhead, but at last her eyelids became heavy and she fell asleep. And so the night pa.s.sed.
In the morning Madouc and Sir Pom-Pom arose from their beds of straw and looked about. There was no sign of either Filemon, Dame Corcas, or the horses. When they looked for Mikelaus, he also was not in evidence, nor were Sir Pom-Pom"s boots.
Madouc said: "I am commencing to wonder about the honesty of Filemon and Dame Corcas."
"Do not leave that impling Mikelaus out of your calculations," said Sir Pom-Pom through gritted teeth. "It is clear that he has decamped with my new boots."
Madouc drew a deep breath. "I suppose it is futile to lament our loss. At Biddle Bray we will buy you stout buskins and a pair of good stockings. Until then you must go barefoot."
II.
Madouc and Sir Pom-Pom trudged glumly into Biddle Bray; even the red feather in Sir Pom-Pom"s cap had taken on a disconsolate slant. At the Dog"s Head Inn they ate pease porridge for breakfast, after which, at a cobbler"s shop, Sir Pom-Pom was fitted with a pair of buskins. When the cobbler called for his money, Sir Pom-Pom pointed to Madouc. "You must discuss the matter with her."
Madouc stared at him in displeasure. "How so?"
"Because you have insisted upon carrying the funds."
"What of the silver form and the three copper pennies?"
Sir Pom-Pom"s face became bleak. "I placed three coins in my pouch, which I tied to the pommel of my saddle. Filemon jumped on Fustis and rode off like a whirlwind, and with him horse, pouch and money."
Madouc, restraining comment, paid the cobbler. "The past is past. Let us be on our way."
The two adventurers departed Biddle Bray by Bidbottle Lane, which led north toward Modoiry, a village on Old Street. After a mile or two Sir Pom-Pom recovered something of his bravado. He began to whistle and presently he said: "You spoke correctly! The past is past; today is today! The road is open; the sun shines bright, and somewhere the Holy Grail awaits my coming!"
"So it may be," said Madouc.
"Footing it is not so bad," Pom-Pom went on. "I see many advantages. Fodder and drench no longer concern us nor the nuisances of tether, bridle, blanket and saddle. We can also put aside all fear of horse thieves."
"Whatever the case, horseback or afoot, it is no great distance to Thripsey Shee," said Madouc.
"Even so, that need not be our first destination," said Sir Pom-Pom. "I am anxious to search for the Holy Grail: first in the crypts on Weamish Isle, where I suspect we will find a secret compartment."
Madouc responded with decision: "First we fare to Thripsey Shee, and there we will take advice from my mother."
Sir Pom-Pom scowled and kicked at a pebble.
"It serves no purpose to pout and sulk," said Madouc. "We shall keep a vigilant watch to right and left as we go."
Sir Pom-Pom turned a sullen side-glance upon Madouc. "Your cap is pulled low and rests on your ears and nose. I wonder how you can see the road in front of your feet, much less the land scape to right and left."
"You watch the landscape and I will guide us to Thripsey Shee," said Madouc. "And now what I see ahead is a blackberry thicket heavy with fruit. It would be a shame to pa.s.s by without a taste."
Sir Pom-Pom pointed. "Someone already works at the harvest. He may even be on guard against vagabonds such as our selves."
Madouc scrutinized the person to whom Sir Pom-Pom had referred. "I would take him for a kindly old gentleman out for a stroll, who has paused to pick a few berries into his hat. Still, I will ask as to the berries."
Madouc approached the thicket, where a man of mature years, in costume characteristic of the lesser gentry, paused at his work. Weather and sun had browned his skin and bleached his hair; his features were undistinguished, though even and regular; the gaze of his gray eyes was mild, so that Madouc felt no hesitation in addressing him. "Sir, are these berries under your control, or are they available to others?"
"I must answer both "yes" and "no". For berries already picked and in my hat I feel an attachment. Those berries yet on the bush I place under no restriction whatever."
"In that case I will pick a few berries on my account, as will Sir Pom-Pom."
"Sir Pom-Pom", is it? Since I mingle with the aristocracy, he I must look to my manners."
"I am not truly a knight," said Sir Pom-Pom modestly. "It is only a manner of speaking."
"Here among the bushes it matters little," said the old man. "Knight and commoner alike cry "Ay caray!" at the p.r.i.c.k of a thorn, and the favor is the same on both tongues. As for me, my name is Travante; my rank or its lack are equally irrelevant." Travante looked down at Madouc, who picked from a branch nearby. "Below that cap I seem to notice red curls, and also some extremely blue eyes."
"My hair is more copper-gold then red."
"So I see, upon closer attention. And what is your name?"
"I am Madouc."
The three picked blackberries, then sat together by the side of the road and ate their harvest. Travante asked: "Since you came from the south, you are faring to the north. Where are you bound?"
"First to Modoiry on Old Street," said Madouc. "Truth to tell, we are vagabonds of a sort, Sir Pom-Pom and I, and each of us has a quest to fulfill."
"I too am a vagabond," said Travante. "I too pursue a quest - one which is futile and forlorn, or so I have been told by those who remain at home. If I may, I will accompany you, at least for a s.p.a.ce."
"Do so and welcome," said Madouc. "What is the quest that takes you so far and wide?"
Travante looked off down the road, smiling. "It is an extraordinary quest. I am searching for my lost youth."
"Indeed!" said Madouc. "How did you lose it?" Travante held out his hands in a gesture of puzzlement. "I cannot be sure. I had it one moment and the next time I thought to notice it was gone."
Madouc glanced at Sir Pom-Pom, who was staring dumbfounded at Travante. She said: "I suppose you are sure of your facts."
"Oh indeed! I remember it distinctly! Then it was as if I walked around the table and poof! I found myself an old man."