Part 20 (1/2)

Madouc took up the manure fork and raised it on high. Pymfyd dodged and threw his arm over his head. ”What are you up to?”

”Patience, Pymfyd! This tool symbolizes a sword of fine steel!” Madouc touched the fork to Pymfyd's head. ”For notable valor on the field of combat, I dub you Sir Pom-Pom, and by this t.i.tle shall you be known henceforth. Arise, Sir Pom-Pom! In my eyes, at least, you have proved your mettle!”

Pymfyd rose to his feet, grinning and scowling at the same time. ”The stablemen will not care a fig one way or the other.”

”No matter! In my opinion you are now 'Sir Pom-Pom'.”

The newly knighted Sir Pom-Pom shrugged. ”It is at least a start.”

CHAPTER FOUR.

Lady Desdea, upon receiving word from the stable of Madouc's return to Sarris, posted herself in the entry hail, where she could be sure to intercept the miscreant princess.

Five minutes pa.s.sed. Lady Desdea waited with eyes glittering and arms crossed, fingers tap-tapping against her elbow. Madouc, listless and weary, pushed open the door and entered the hall. She crossed to the side pa.s.sage, looking neither right nor left as if absorbed in her private thoughts, ignoring Lady Desdea as if she were not there.

Smiling a small grim smile, Lady Desdea called out: ”Princess Madouc! If you please, I would like a word with you!”

Madouc stopped short, shoulders sagging. Reluctantly she turned. ”Yes, Lady Desdea? What do you wish?”

Lady Desdea spoke with restraint. ”First, I wish to comment upon your conduct, which has caused us all a distraction. Next, I wish to inform you of certain plans which have been made.”

”If you are tired,” said Madouc in a voice of forlorn hope, ”you need not trouble with the comment. As for the plans, we can discuss them another time.”

Lady Desdea's small smile seemed frozen on her face. ”As you wish, though the comment is most pertinent and the plans concern you both directly and indirectly.”

Madouc started to turn away. ”One moment,” said Lady Desdea. ”I will mention only this: Their Majesties will celebrate Prince Ca.s.sander's birthday with a grand fete. Many important persons will be on hand. There will be a formal reception, at which you will sit with the rest of the royal family.”

”Ah well, I suppose it is no great matter,” said Madouc, and again started to turn away, and again Lady Desdea's voice gave her pause. ”In the interim you must school yourself in the customary social graces, that you may appear at your best advantage.”

Madouc spoke over her shoulder: ”There is little for me to learn, since all I need do is sit quietly and nod my head from time to time.''

”Ha, there is more to it than that,” said Lady Desdea. ”You will learn the details tomorrow.”

Madouc pretended not to hear and went off down the pa.s.sage to her chambers. She went directly to her bed and looked down at the pillow. What would she find beneath? Slowly, and fearful that she would find nothing, she lifted the pillow, and saw a small silver comb.

Madouc gave a quiet little cry of joy. Twisk was not a totally adequate mother, but at least she was alive and not dead, like the Princess Suldrun; and Madouc was not alone in the world, after all.

On the wall beside her dressing table was a mirror of Byzantine gla.s.s, rejected by Queen Sollace for reason of flaws and distortions, but which had been considered good enough for the use of Princess Madouc, who, in any case, seldom used the mirror.

Madouc went to stand before the mirror. She looked at her reflection, and blue eyes looked back at her, under a careless tumble of copper-gold curls. ”My hair is not such a frightful vision as they like to make out,” Madouc told herself bravely. ”It is perhaps not constrained in an even bundle, but I would not have it so. Let us see what happens.”

Madouc pulled the comb through her hair. It slid easily through the strands, with none of the usual jerks and snags; the comb was a pleasure to use. Madouc stopped to appraise her reflection. The change, while not startling, was definite. The curls seemed to fall into locks, and arranged themselves of their own accord around her face. ”No doubt it is an improvement,” Madouc told herself. ”Especially if it helps me escape ridicule and criticism. Today has been most eventful!”

In the morning Madouc took her breakfast of porridge and boiled bacon in a sunny little alcove to the side of the kitchen, where she knew she would not be likely to encounter either Devonet or Chlodys. Madouc decided to consume a peach, then loitered over a bunch of grapes. She was not surprised when Lady Desdea looked through the door. ”So this is where you are hiding.”

”I am not hiding,” said Madouc coldly. ”I am taking my breakfast.”

”I see. Are you finished?”

”Not quite. I am still eating grapes.”