Part 60 (1/2)

”There must have been the usual and ordinary intervals in between?”

”Dreams, my dear. Figments, wisps, sometimes a nightmare. But what of you?”

”It is simple. I do not know my father. My mother is a fairy from Thripsey Shee. I am seeking my father and with him my pedigree.”

”And Sir Pom-Pom: what does he seek?”

”Sir Pom-Pom seeks the Holy Grail, in accordance with King Casmir's proclamation.”

”Ah! He is of religious persuasion?”

”Not so,” said Sir Pom-Pom. ”If I bring the Holy Grail to Queen Sollace, she will grant me a boon. I might well choose to marry the Princess Madouc, though she is as high-handed and vain as the artful little frippet who sits beside you now.”

Travante glanced down at Madouc. ”Could she possibly be one and the same individual?”

Sir Pom-Pom put on his most portentous frown. ”There are certain facts we do not want generally known. Still, I can say this: you have guessed a good guess.”

Madouc told Travante: ”Another fact is not generally known, especially to Sir Pom-Pom. He must learn that his dreams of marriage and the boon have nothing to do with me.”

Sir Pom-Pom said obstinately: ”I can only rely upon the a.s.surances of Queen Sollace in this regard.”

”So long as I control the Tinkle-toe Imp-spring, I will have the last word in this matter,” said Madouc. She rose to her feet. ”It is time we were on our way.”

Travante said: ”Sir Pom-Pom. I strongly suspect that you will never marry Madouc. I advise you to work toward a more accessible goal.”

”I will give the matter thought,” growled Sir Pom-Pom. The three set off to the north along Bidbottle Lane. ”We make a notable company,” declared Travante. ”I am as I am! Sir Pom-Pom is strong and brave, while Madouc is clever and resourceful; also, with her copper-gold curls, her wry little face and her eyes of heartbreak blue she is both quaint and vastly appealing.”

”She can also be a vixen, when it suits her mood,” said Sir Pom-Pom.

III.

Bidbottle Lane wound north across the countryside: up hill and down dale, into the shade of the Wanswold Oaks, out across Scrimsour Downs. Overhead floated lazy white clouds; their shadows drifted across the landscape. The sun moved up the sky; as it reached the zenith, the three wayfarers arrived at Modoiry, where Bidbottle Lane met Old Street. Madouc and Sir Pom-Pom would proceed another three miles east to Little Saffield, then fare north beside the River Timble and on to the Forest of Tantrevalles. Travante intended to continue past Little Saffield to the Long Downs, that he might conduct his search among the dolmens of the Stollshot Circus.

As the three approached Little Saffield Madouc found herself increasingly disturbed by the prospect of parting with Travante, whose company she found both rea.s.suring and amusing; further, his presence seemed to discourage Sir Pom-Pom's occasional tendencies toward pomposity. Madouc finally suggested that Travante accompany them, at least as far as Thripsey Shee.

Travante reflected upon the proposal. Then, somewhat dubiously, he said: ”I know nothing of halflings; indeed, all my life I have been wary of them. Too many tales are told of their caprice and exaggerated conduct.”

”In this case there is nothing to fear,” said Madouc confidently. ”My mother is both gracious and beautiful! She will surely be delighted to see me, and my friends as well, though I admit this is less certain. Still, she might well advise you in regard to your quest.”

Sir Pom-Pom asked plaintively: ”What of me? I also am engaged upon a quest.”

”Patience, Sir Pom-Pom! Your wants are known!”

Travante came to a decision. ”Well then, why not? I will welcome any advice, since I have had precious little luck searching on my own.”

”Then you will come with us!”

”For just a bit, until you find me a bore.”

”I doubt if that will ever occur,” said Madouc. ”I enjoy your company, and I am sure that Sir Pom-Pom does so as well.”