Part 58 (1/2)
Filemon chuckled. ”There is a variation to the trick, wherein we pretend to be three incompetent lunatics and purposely let Mikelaus fall, though pretending to catch him, but failing through one or another of our comic antics.”
”Dasa miago lou-lou. Yi. Tinka.”
”Just so!” said Filemon. ”And the soup is now prepared to Dame Corcas' exacting standards. I serve you with our compliments! Eat hearty, one and all! Even you, Mikelaus; for once in your penurious little life, you shall sup your fill!”
”Arum.”
After the meal, Madouc and Sir Pom-Pom prepared to continue on their way. Filemon called in a cheery voice: ”If we may, we will go in your company, and thus enliven the journey!”
”Of course we shall!” said Dame Corcas definitely. ”It would be sad indeed if we were to part company now, after such a jolly time together.”
”Then it is so decided, by popular vote!” declared Filemon.
”We shall go as a little group of boon companions,” declared Dame Corcas. ”Even though you two ride fine horses while we must walk-or in the case of poor raggle-taggle little Mikelaus, scurry and lope. Be brave, good Mikelaus! Someday the world will turn right for you, and give you a fine reward for all your generous deeds.”
”Yi arum bosko.”
The group set off down the lane: Sir Pom-Pom riding first on gray Fustis, with Madouc next on Juno, at a gait sufficiently easy that Filemon and Dame Corcas, trudging behind, had no difficulty in keeping pace, and even Mikelaus, by dint of first running at full speed, then halting to catch his breath, remained only a few yards behind.
The lane wound up hill and down dale: between hedges of hawthorn or low fences of mossy fieldstone; past vineyards and orchards, fields of barley and water-meadows sprinkled with flowers; into the shade of small forests, then once more out into the open sunlight.
All at once, after two hours of travel, Dame Corcas gave a choking cry and, clutching her chest, fell to her knees, where she remained, sobbing under her breath. Filemon instantly went to tend her. ”My dear Corcas, what is it this time? Another of your attacks?”
Dame Corcas at last managed to speak. ”I fear as much. Luckily, it does not seem truly severe, and I do not need my potion. Still, for a period I am obliged to rest. You and dear Mikelaus must go on to Biddle Bray without me, and make arrangements for the gala. When I am better I will creep on alone at my own pace, and eventually, if the Fates are kind, I will arrive in time to do my stint at the performance.”
”Unthinkable!” declared Filemon staunchly. ”Surely there is a better solution to the problem! Let us take the advice of our friends.” He addressed Sir Pom-Pom. ”What is your opinion?”
”I would not wish to offer advice.”
Filemon struck his fist into the palm of his hand. ”I have it!” He turned to Madouc. ”Perhaps you, in your kindness, might allow Dame Corcas to ride in your place onward to Biddle Bray, which lies along the road at no great distance.”
”It would be most companionable and loyal,” cried Dame Corcas fervently. ”I fear that otherwise I might just lie here in the road all night, until my strength returns.”
Madouc glumly dismounted. ”I suppose it will do me no great harm to walk for a bit.”
”I thank you, from the bottom of my heart!” cried Dame Corcas. With surprising agility she stepped to Juno's side and swung herself into the saddle. ”Ah! I feel better already! Filemon, shall we sing a brave little song, to bolster our spirits?”
”Of course, my dear! What shall it be?”
” 'The Song of the Three Merry Vagabonds', of course.”
”Very good.” Filemon clapped his hands to establish the cadence; then, in his gustful baritone mingled with Dame Corcas'
piping soprano, the song was rendered:
Our wants are many, our farthings few; And oft we sleep in the rain and dew!
Our evening meal is a turnip stew; In spite of all we're a jolly crew!
Refrain (as sung by Mikelaus): Sigmo chaska yi yi yi Varmous varmous oglethorpe.
Our argosies ride distant tides; Out there somewhere our fortune hides.