Part 24 (1/2)

Lady Elsiflor gave a disapproving sniff. ”I would not allow any Moor to count the areas of my skin, no matter how long his beard, nor yet might he measure my stature in hands, as if I were a mare.”

The d.u.c.h.ess Pargot spoke querulously: ”Is there not a certain lack of dignity to the exposition?”

Lady Elsiflor agreed. ”As for the Princess, I doubt if she will ever conform to the Moorish ideal. But for her pretty face, she might pa.s.s for a boy.”

”All in good time!” declared Lord Uls. ”She is still young in years.”

d.u.c.h.ess Pargot turned a sidelong glance toward King Casmir, whom she disliked. ”Still they are already shopping her about; I find it quite premature.”

”It is no more than display,” declared Lord Uls bluffly. ”They bait the hook and cast the line in order to learn which fish will strike.”

The heralds blew the six-note fanfare: 'Recedens Regis'. King Casmir and Queen Sollace stood from their thrones and retired from the hail, that they might change into garments appropriate for the banquet. Madouc tried to slip away, but Devonet called out: ”Princess Madouc, what of you? Shall we sit together at the banquet?”

Lady Desdea looked around. ”Other plans have been made. Come, Your Highness! You must freshen yourself and don your beautiful garden frock.”

”I am well enough now,” growled Madouc. ”There is no need to change.”

”Your opinions for once are irrelevant, in that they run counter to the queen's requirements.”

”Why does she insist upon foolishness and waste? I will wear out these clothes changing them back and forth.”

”The queen has the best of reasons for all her decisions. Come along with you.”

Madouc sullenly allowed herself to be divested of her blue gown and dressed in a costume which, so she grudgingly decided, she liked equally well: a white blouse tied at the elbows with brown ribbons; a bodice of black velvet with a double row of small copper medallions down the front; a full pleated skirt of a bronze-russet similar to but less intense than the color of her curls.

Lady Desdea took her to the queen's drawing room, where they waited until Queen Sollace had completed her own change of costume. Then, with Devonet and Chiodys following modestly behind, the group repaired to the south lawn. Here, in the shade of three enormous old oaks and only a few yards from the placid Glame, a lavish collation had been laid out upon a long trestle. Here and there around the lawn were arranged small tables set with napery, baskets of fruit, ewers of wine, as well as plates, goblets, bowls and utensils. Three dozen stewards clad in livery of lavender and green stood at their posts, stiff as sentinels, awaiting the signal from Sir Mungo to commence service. Meanwhile, the company of guests stood in knots and groups awaiting the arrival of the royal party.

On the green lawn and against the sunny blue of the sky the colors of their costumes made a gorgeous display. There were blues both light and dark, of lapis and of turquoise; purple, magenta and green; tawny orange, tan, buff and fusk; mustard ocher, the yellow of daffodil, rose pink, scarlet and pomegranate red. There were s.h.i.+rts and pleated bargoons of fine white silk, or Egyptian lawn; the hats were brave with many brims, sweeps, tiers, and plumes. Lady Desdea wore a relatively sedate gown of heather gray embroidered with red and black flowerets. As the royal party arrived on the lawn she took occasion to confer with Queen Sollace, who issued instructions to which Lady Desdea gave a bow of compliant understanding. She turned to speak with Madouc, only to discover that Madouc was nowhere to be seen.

Lady Desdea exclaimed in vexation and called to Devonet. ”Where is the Princess Madouc? A moment ago she stood by my side; she has darted away, like a weasel through the hedge!”

Devonet replied in a voice of whimsical and confidential scorn: ”No doubt she trotted off to the privy.”

”Ah! Always at the most awkward time!”

Devonet went on: ”She said she had severely wanted to go for the last two hours.”

Lady Desdea frowned. Devonet's manner was altogether too flippant, too knowing and too familiar. She said crisply: ”All else aside, Princess Madouc is a cherished member of the royal family. We must be careful to avoid disrespect in our references!”

”I was only telling you the facts,” said Devonet lamely.

”Just so. Still, I hope that you will take my remarks to heart.” Lady Desdea swept away and went to post herself where she could intercept Madouc immediately upon her return from within the palace.

Minutes pa.s.sed. Lady Desdea became impatient: where was the perverse little brat? What could she be up to?

King Casmir and Queen Sollace settled themselves at the royal table; the High Seneschal nodded to the steward-in-chief who clapped his hands together. Those guests still standing about the lawn seated themselves wherever convenient, in the company of relatives or friends, or with other persons whom they found congenial. Stewards in pairs stalked here and there with platters and trenchers, one to carry, another to serve. Contrary to the intentions of Queen Sollace, Prince Bittern escorted the young d.u.c.h.ess Clavessa Montfoy of Sansiverre- this a small kingdom immediately north of Aquitaine. The d.u.c.h.ess wore a striking gown of scarlet embroidered with black, purple and green peac.o.c.ks, which suited her to remarkable advantage. She was tall, vivacious of movement, with luxuriant black hair, flas.h.i.+ng black eyes, and an enthusiastic manner which stimulated Prince Bittern's most eager volubility.

Queen Sollace watched with cold disfavor. She had planned that Bittern should sit with Princess Madouc, that he might make her better acquaintance. Evidently this was not to be, and Sollace gave Lady Desdea a look of moist reproach, prompting Lady Desdea to peer even more earnestly toward the structure of Sarris. Why did the princess tarry so long?

In point of fact, Madouc had tarried not an instant. As soon as Lady Desdea had turned her back, she slipped around the outskirts of the company to where Dhrun and s.h.i.+mrod stood, beside the most remote of the oak trees. Madouc's arrival took them by surprise. ”You come up on us with neither ceremony nor premonition,” said Dhrun. ”Luckily we were exchanging no secrets.”