MADOUC

Madouc answered in a tremulous voice: "Yes, Your High ness, I understand your words." She drew a deep breath. "But they fly wide of the mark. It is best that you should know this now."

King Casmir started to speak, using a dangerous voice, but Madouc was quick to anticipate him. "In ordinary matters I would hope to obey you, but remember: my marriage is far more important to me than it is to you."

King Casmir bent slowly forward. Over the years dozens of frightened wretches had seen such an expression on his face before being dragged away to torment in the dungeons under the Peinhador. Casmir spoke from deep in his throat: "So you think to thwart my volition?"

Madouc spoke more carefully than ever. "There are circumstances, Your Highness, which make the plan impossible!"

"What circumstances are these?"

"First, I despise Prince Brezante. If he is so anxious to marry, let him betroth himself to Lady Vosse or Chlodys. Second, if you will recall, I am born of halfling mother and an unknown father. My pedigree is lacking; for this reason, my maidens call me ‘bastard', which I cannot deny. If King Milo knew of this, he would consider the betrothal a mockery, and an insult to his house."

King Casmir blinked and stood silent. Madouc rose to her feet and stood demurely leaning on the table. "Therefore, Your Highness, the betrothal is not possible. You must make other plans, which do not include me."

"Bah!" muttered Casmir. "All these circumstances are small fish in a big pan. Neither Milo nor Brezante need know of them! After all, who would tell them?"

"The task would fall to me," said Madouc. "It would be my duty."

"That is sheer blather!"

Madouc hurried on, her tongue almost tripping over itself. "Not so, Your Highness! I merely use the faith and candour I have learned from your noble example! Decent respect for the honour of both royal houses would compel me to admit my condition, no matter what the consequences!"

King Casmir spoke out harshly: "It means nothing; I assure you of this! To talk of honour is frivol and foolishness! If it is a pedigree you need, the heralds will contrive something suitable and I will fix it upon you by ordinance!"

Madouc smilingly shook her head. "Bad cheese stinks, no matter how thin it is sliced. Such a pedigree would be a laughable deceit. Folk would call you a black-hearted monster, as false as a stoat, ready for any lie or duplicity. Everyone would sneer and joke; I would be doubly ridiculed, and doubly demeaned, for allowing such a brazen falsity! They would further call you a-"

Casmir made a brusque gesture. "Stop! That is enough!"

Madouc said meekly: "I was only explaining why my true and very own pedigree is essential to me."

King Casmir's patience was wearing thin. "This is folly, and I quite beside the point! I do not propose to be thwarted by such paltriness! Now then-"

Madouc cried out plaintively: "The facts cannot be denied, Your Highness! I lack all pedigree."

"Then construct yourself a pedigree, or find one that you deem proper, and it shall be fixed upon you by fiat! Only be quick! Ask Spargoy the Chief Herald for help."

"I would prefer the help of someone else."

"Whoever you like! Fact or fancy, it is all one; I am indifferent to your whims. Only be quick!"

"Just so, Your Majesty. I will do as you command."

Casmir's attention was caught by a bland overtone in Madouc's response: why had she become so docile? "In the meantime, I will initiate discussions in regard to the betrothal. This must proceed!"

Madouc gave a poignant little cry of protest. "Your Highness, have I not just explained that this cannot be?"

Casmir's torso seemed to swell. Madouc moved a slow step around the table, to put its maximum diameter between her and King Casmir. She cried out: "Nothing has changed, Your Highness! I will search everywhere for my pedigree, but even should I discover the King of Byzantium for my sire, Prince Brezante remains as obnoxious as ever. If he speaks a single word to me, I shall declare myself an orphan bastard whom King Casmir wishes to foist off on him. If he is not deterred I will show him the ‘Tinkle-toe Imp-spring', so that he leaps six feet into the air."

King Casmir's cheeks had become pink and his eyes bulged blue from his face. He took three strides around the table, in order that he might seize Madouc and beat her well. Madouc warily darted off an equal distance around the table. Casmir lumbered in pursuit, but Madouc ran nimbly to keep the table always between them. Casmir at last halted, breathing hard both from passion and exertion. Madouc said breathlessly: "You must excuse me for evading you, Your Highness, but I do not care to be beaten again."

"I will call the footmen," said Casmir. "They will take you to a dark room, and I will beat you at my leisure and perhaps do else to you. No one defies me and escapes unscathed." He took a slow step around the table, staring fixedly at Madouc as if trying to fascinate her into immobility.

Madouc sidled aside, and spoke tremulously: "I beg you not to do such things, Your Highness! You will notice that I have not used my fairy magic upon you, which would be disrespectful. I command not only the ‘Sissle-way' and the ‘Tinkle-toe' but also-" Madouc groped for inspiration, which was not slow in coming "-an irksome spell called ‘Insect's Arrayance', to be used only on persons who threaten me!"

"Oh?" asked King Casmir in a gentle voice. "Tell me of this spell!" And he took a slow step around the table.

Madouc hurriedly skipped aside. "When I am compelled to afflict some vile cur of a villain, insects swarm upon him from all directions! By day and by night they come, high and low, down from the sky, up from the soil!"

"That is an unnerving prospect."

"True, Your Highness! Please do not creep around the table, as you frighten me and I might blurt out the ‘Arrayance' by mistake!"

"Indeed? Tell me more of this marvellous spell."

"First come the fleas! They jump through the vile cur's golden beard, also his hair; they swarm in his rich garments till he tears his skin for scratching!"

"Irksome! Stand quietly, and tell me more!" King Casmir made a sudden movement; Madouc jumped around the table and spoke in desperate haste: "When he sleeps large spiders crawl across his face! Weevils burrow into his skin and drop from his nose! He finds beetles in his soup and roaches in his porridge! Blowflies crawl into his mouth and lay eggs in his ears; when he walks out he is beleaguered by gnats and moths and darting grasshoppers; wasps and bumblebees sting him at random!"

King Casmir stood scowling. "And you control this awful spell?"

"Oh yes indeed! There is worse to come! Should the villain fall to the ground, he is instantly overcome by a seethe of ants. Naturally, I would use this spell only to protect myself!"

"Of course!" King Casmir smiled a small hard smile. "But do you truly command a spell of such power? I suspect not."

"In all candour, I have forgotten one or two of the syllables," said Madouc bravely. "However they come readily enough from my mother's tongue. I can call her at need, and she will transform my enemies into toads, moles or salamanders, as I dictate, and this you must believe, since it is truth!"

King Casmir stared at Madouc a long moment. He made an abrupt gesture signifying a dozen emotions. "Go. Remove yourself from my sight."

Madouc performed a dainty little curtsey. "I am grateful for Your Majesty's kind clemency." She slipped gingerly past Casmir; then, with a sly glance back over her shoulder, ran quickly from the room.