Sir Pom-Pom spoke diffidently: "Your Highness, what of the boon promised by the king? When should I make my wants known, and when will the boon be granted?"
Queen Sollace frowned somewhat impatiently. "In due course any feasible arrangements will be considered. In the meantime, you already have what is best of alclass="underline" which is to say, the knowledge of how well you have served our Church and our Faith!"
Sir Pom-Pom stammered something incoherent, then bowed and backed away. Sir Mungo said: "Princess Madouc, you may come with me at this time, along with your companion."
Sir Mungo led the two by a side corridor into the ancient Old Hall, through a portal in a dank stone wall out upon a landing, from which a stone ramp descended past monumental stone columns to give into the solemn spaces of the Hall of Judgments.
On a low dais sat King Casmir, wearing the traditional vestments of judgment: a black robe with black gloves, a square of black velvet on his head with gold tassels dependent and a gold fillet above. He sat on a massive throne with a small table before him; to either side of the dais stood a pair of men-at-arms clad in shirts and breeches of black leather relieved only by epaulettes and brassards of black iron. Helmets of iron and leather clasped their faces, lending them a sinister aspect. Those unfortunate individuals awaiting judgment sat on a bench to one side of the hall, in attitudes of gloom. Those who had already been tortured stared blankly into space, eyes as empty as knotholes.
Sir Mungo brought Madouc and Sir Pom-Pom before the king. "Your Highness, I bring you the Princess Madouc and her companion, as you have requested."
King Casmir leaned back in his throne and, frowning, considered the two.
Madouc curtseyed primly. "I trust Your Majesty enjoys good health."
King Casmir's face altered by not so much as a quiver. At last he spoke. "It seems that Prince Cassander surprised you beside the road. Where have you been and what has been your mischief, to the disgrace of the royal house?"
Madouc spoke haughtily: "Your Majesty has been shamefully misinformed! Far from being surprised by Prince Cassander, we were returning at best speed to Lyonesse Town. Prince Cassander and his friends overtook us along the way. We neither lurked, skulked, hid, lied, nor in any way compromised our dignity. As for mischief and disgrace, Your Majesty again has been victimized by misinformation, since I did no more than obey your instructions."
King Casmir leaned forward, the pink rising in his already florid face. "I instructed you to skite off into the wilderness, taking neither proper escort nor proper protection?"
"Just so, Your Majesty! You ordered me to discover my pedigree as best I could, and not to trouble you with the details."
King Casmir slowly swung his head so as to stare at Sir Pom Pom. "You are the stableboy who supplied the horses?"
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Your folly in this respect verges upon criminal negligence. Do you think yourself a proper and adequate escort for a royal princess under such circumstances?"
"Yes, Your Majesty, since that has been my occupation. I have long served the princess faithfully and there has never been aught but approval for the quality of my service."
King Casmir leaned back once again. In a slow cold voice he inquired: "You perceive no more hazard in a long journey by night and day, through strange parts and dangerous wilderness, than an afternoon's outing in the meadows at Sarris?"
"Sire, there is a difference indeed. But you must know that, on the basis of your proclamation, I had already decided to go questing for holy relics."
"That is not germane to the wrongfulness of your conduct."
Madouc spoke out angrily: "Your Majesty, I commanded him to this conduct; he is guilty only of obedience to my orders."
"Ha hah! And if you had ordered him to set fire to Castle Haidion, so that it burned in roaring flames, and he did so, would that make him no more than a dutiful servant?"
"No, Your Majesty, but-"
"To fulfill his duty best he should have notified someone in authority of your demands, and requested official permission. I have heard enough. Bailiff, take this person behind the Peinhador for a flogging of seven strokes, for his better instruction in prudent conduct."
Madouc cried out: "Your Majesty, one moment! You are pronouncing sentence too roundly and too rapidly. Both Pymfyd and I went out on our separate quests, and both of us were successful. I learned the name of my father, while Pymfyd did you and the queen a notable service; he killed the ogre Throop and brought away the Holy Grail which he only just now presented to Her Majesty. She is ecstatic with joy! By your proclamation, Sir Pom-Pom has earned a boon!"
King Casmir smiled a small smile. "Bailiff, reduce the flogging to six strokes and allow this tow-headed gossoon the resumption of his post at the stable. That shall be his boon."
"Come, sirrah!" said the bailiff. "This way, come!" He led Sir Pom-Pom from the hall.
Madouc looked at King Casmir aghast. "But you gave me full permission to do what I did! You told me to take an escort, and always I had taken him before!"
King Casmir made a sharp gesture with his clenched right hand. "Enough! You must understand meanings rather than words. You thought to trick me and the fault is yours."
Madouc, looking into Casmir's eyes, saw new meanings and took new understandings, which caused her to flinch. She held her face composed, though now she hated Casmir with all her being.
King Casmir spoke: "You learned the identity of your father, then. What is his name?"
"He is a certain Sir Pellinore of Aquitaine, Your Majesty."
King Casmir considered. "Sir Pellinore? The name has a familiar ring. Somewhere I have encountered it; perhaps long ago."
He turned to the High Seneschal. "Bring me here Spargoy the Herald."
Spargoy the Chief Herald presented himself. "Sire, your wishes?"
"Who is Sir Pellinore of Aquitaine? Where is his seat and what are his connections?"
‘Sir Pellinore', Sire? Someone has spoken in jest." "What do you mean by that?"
"Sir Pellinore is a creature of fancy! He exists only in the romantic fables of Aquitaine, where he does marvellous deeds and woos lovely maidens and travels far and wide on wonderful quests! But that is all there is to Sir Pellinore."
King Casrnir looked at Madouc. "Well, then? What now?"
"Nothing," said Madouc. "Have I your leave to go?"
"Go"
V
Madouc went on laggard feet to her old chambers. She stood in the doorway looking to right and left, at objects and articles which at one time had brought her comfort. The rooms, which she had thought so large and airy, seemed barely adequate. She summoned a maid and ordered hot water for her bath. Using mild yellow soap imported from Andalusia, she scrubbed herself and her copper-gold curls, and rinsed in water scented with lavender. Looking through her wardrobe, she discovered that her old garments now fit her somewhat too snugly. Strange, thought Madouc; how quickly the time went by! She studied her legs; they were still taut and slender, but-was it her imagination?- they looked somehow different than she remembered them; and her breasts were at least perceptible, if anyone troubled to look.
Madouc gave a fatalistic sigh. The changes were coming faster than she might have liked. She finally found a costume which still fit her nicely; a loose skirt of pale blue homespun and a white blouse embroidered with blue flowers. She brushed out her curls and tied them back with a blue ribbon. Then she went to sit in her chair and look from the window.
There was much to reflect upon: so much that her mind whirled from place to place, with ideas darting in and out, never staying long enough to take full shape. She thought of Sir Pellinore, Twisk, King Casmir in his black robes, and poor Sir Pom-Pom with his stricken face. Here she averted her mind for fear that she would become sick. Zerling, were he to apply the strokes, would surely do so without undue energy, to allow Sir Pom-Pom the flesh and skin of his back.