King Throbius looked in puzzlement to Twisk. "What might be the ‘Holy Grail'?"
"I have heard mention of the object, Your Highness. Long ago Sir Pellinore spoke of such an article. I believe it to be a cup, or something of the sort."
"It is a chalice sacred to the Christians," said Sir Pom-Pom. "I am anxious to find it, that I may earn a royal boon."
King Throbius pulled at his beard. "I know nothing of such an object; you must seek elsewhere for information."
Travante also made bold to put a request: "Perhaps Your Highness will instruct me as to where I might search for my lost youth."
King Throbius again pulled at his beard. "Was it mislaid or truly lost? Do you remember any of the pertinent circumstances?"
"Unfortunately not, Your Highness. I had it; I lost it; it was gone."
King Throbius gave his head a dubious shake. "After such long neglect, it might be almost anywhere. As you travel the roads, you must keep on the alert. I can tell you this: if you find it, be nimble indeed!" King Throbius reached high into the air and brought down a silver hoop two feet in diameter. "If you find what you seek, capture it with this hoop. It was once the property of the nymph Atalanta, and is in itself a great curiosity."
"I thank Your Highness." Travante placed the hoop carefully over his shoulder.
King Throbius and Queen Bossum gave stately bows of farewell and strolled away across the meadow. Even as they went a new commotion broke out near the long table, again involving Womin. The activity consisted of screams, outcries and angry gesticulations. It appeared that someone, both cunning and deft, had purloined Womin's single remaining stocking and had affixed it to the crest of the chatelaine Batinka's elaborate coiffure, where it created a ridiculous and humiliating spectacle. Batinka, upon discovering the prank, had chided Womin and had tweaked his nose. The usually mild-mannered Womin, after taking Falael's quiet advice, had retaliated by pushing Batinka's face into a pudding. At this point King Throbius intervened. Batinka cited Womin's misdeeds which Womin denied, save for his use of the pudding. Once again he asserted that Falael could bear witness as to his blamelessness. King Throbius, as before, turned to Falael for the facts, but Falael, as before, claimed to have been preoccupied with his daisy chain, to the exclusion of all else.
King Throbius considered the case for a moment or two, then turned to Falaeclass="underline" "Where is the daisy chain upon which you have been so diligently employed?"
Falael was taken aback by the unexpected request. He looked here and there and at last cried out: "Aha! Here it is!"
"Indeed. You are certain?"
"Of course!"
"And you worked throughout the period of both episodes involving Womin, without so much as raising your eyes-so you have attested."
"Then it must be so, since I am a stickler for accurate detail."
"I count nine flowers to this chain. They are marigolds, not daisies. What do you say to that?"
Falael shifted his gaze here and there. "I was paying no great heed, Your Highness."
"Falael, the evidence suggests that you have been paltering with the truth, giving false testimony, performing mischievous pranks and attempting to deceive your king."
"It is surely a mistake, Your Highness!" said Falael, his expression brimming with limpid innocence.
King Throbius was not deceived. In a grave voice, and despite Falael's reedy expostulations, he imposed a penalty of another seven years' itch. Falael dolefully went to sit on his post, and once more began to scratch his affected parts.
King Throbius called out: "Let the festival proceed, though now we must consider it a celebration of hope rather than accomplishment!"
Meanwhile Twisk had bidden Madouc and her company farewell. "It has been a pleasure to have seen you again! Perhaps some day at another time-"
"But good mother Twisk!" cried Madouc. "Have you for gotten? I shall soon return to Thripsey Shee!"
"True," sighed Twisk, "presuming that you avoid the dangers of the forest."
1"Are these then so terrible?"
"Sometimes the forest is sweet and clear," said Twisk. "Sometimes evil lurks behind every stump. Do not explore the morass which borders on Wamble Way; the long-necked heceptors will rise from the slime. In the gully nearby lives the troll Mangeon; avoid him as well. Do not fare west along Munkins Road; you would come to Castle Doldil, the seat of three-headed Throop the ogre. He has caged many a brave knight and devoured many more, perhaps including gallant Sir Pellinore."
"And where shall we sleep by night?"
"Accept no hospitality! It will cost you dear! Take this kerchief." Twisk gave Madouc a square of pink and white silk. "At sundown place it upon the turf and call out ‘Aroisus!' It will become a pavilion for both safety and comfort. In the morning, call out: ‘Deplectus!' and the pavilion will again become a kerchief. And now-"
"Wait! Where is the way to Idilra Post?"
"You must cross the meadow and pass under the tall ash tree. As you go, pay no heed to the festival! Taste no wine; eat no fairy-cake; tap not so much as your toe to fairy music! Beside the ash tree Wamble Way leads to the north; after twelve miles, you will come to the crossing with Munkins Road, and here stands Idilra Post, where I suffered my many trials."
Madouc spoke soothingly: "It was, on the whole, a lucky occasion, since, as a consequence, I am here to gladden your heart!"
Twisk could not restrain a smile. "At times you can be quite appealing, with your sad blue eyes and strange little face! Good bye then, and take care!"
Madouc, Sir Pom-Pom and Travante crossed Madling Meadow to the ash tree and set out to the north along Wamble Way. When the sun sank low, Madouc placed the kerchief upon the turf of a little glade beside the way and called out: "Aroisus!" At once the kerchief became a pavilion furnished with three soft beds and a table loaded with good food and flasks of wine and bitter ale.
During the night peculiar sounds could be heard from the forest, and on several occasions there was the pad of heavy foot steps along Wamble Way. On each occasion, the creature halted as it paused to inspect the pavilion, and then, after consideration, continued along the way and about its business.
Morning sunlight slanted through the forest to lay bright red spatters on the pink and white silk of the pavilion. Madouc, Sir Pom-Pom and Travante arose from their beds. Outside the pavilion dew glistened on the turf; the forest was silent save for an occasional bird-call.
The three breakfasted at the bountiful table, then prepared to depart. Madouc called out "Deplectus!" and the pavilion collapsed to a pink and white kerchief, which Madouc tucked into her wallet.
The three set off up Warnble Way, with both Sir Pom-Pom and Travante keeping a careful lookout for the objects of their quest, as King Throbius had advised.
The lane skirted a tract of quaking black mud, intersected by rills of dark water. Tussocks of reed, burdock and saw grass beds broke the surface, as well as an occasional clump of stunted bitter willow or rotting alder. Bubbles rose up through the slime, and from one of the larger tussocks came a croaking voice, of unintelligible import. The three wayfarers only hastened their steps, and without untoward incident left the morass behind.
Wamble Way veered to avoid a steep-sided hillock with a crag of black basalt at the summit. A path paved with black cobbles led into a shadowy gulch. Beside the path a sign, indited with characters of black and red, presented two quatrains of doggerel for the edification of passersby:
NOTICE!
Let travellers heed! This message confides That Mangeon the Marvellous herein resides!
When Mangeon is wrathful his enemies quail;
But friends drink his health in beakers of ale.