"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 prick 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 space."
"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."
"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 assurances 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 reassuring 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."
"Really?" Travante looked half-incredulously from one to the other. "I consider myself drab and uninteresting."
"I would never use those words," said Madouc. "I think of you as a dreamer, perhaps a trifle-let us say-impractical, but your ideas are never dull."
"I am pleased to hear you say so. As I mentioned, I have no great opinion of myself."
"Whyever not?"
"For the most ordinary of reasons: I excel in nothing. I am neither a philosopher, nor a geometer, nor yet a poet. Never have I destroyed a horde of savage enemies, nor built a noble monument, nor ventured to the far places of the world. I lack all grandeur."
"You are not alone," said Madouc. "Few can claim such achievements."
"That means naught to me! I am I; I answer to myself, with no heed for others. I am persuaded that a life-span should not be futile and empty! For this reason I seek my lost youth, and with such special zeal."
"And if you were to find it, what would you do?"
"I would alter everything! I would become a person of enterprise; I would consider wasted the day that did not include the contriving of some wonderful plan, or the building of a fine object, or the righting of a wrong! So would pass each day, in marvellous deeds. Then each night I would gather my friends for an occasion which would be remembered forever! That is how life should be lived, to the best effort of one's power! Now that I know the truth, the time is too late-unless I find what I seek."
Madouc turned to Sir Pom-Pom. "Have you been paying heed? These are lessons which you should take to heart, if only so that someday you may avoid Travante's regrets."