"Foolish mortal! You have compounded your solecism! Such words are not to be uttered in the presence of the Sempitemals; it is considered in poor taste. Secondly, this is not Stangle Meadow, but rather the halcyon Madling Meadow, and before you is Thripsey Shee."
"Ah! It seems that I have blundered, and for this my apologies. I know of Thripsey Shee and its remarkable folk; did they not even provide the royal house of Lyonesse with the Princess Madouc?"
Brean the herald looked uncertainly toward King Throbius who signaled to Visbhume. "Mortal, come forward. Why have you established your nexus on our meadow?"
"Sire, I seem to have wandered astray; the nexus was not intended for Madling Meadow, despite its many fascinations. But I wonder of the boy whom you nurtured so wisely five years ago; where is he now? I would speak with him."
"What boy is this?" Then, after Queen Bossum whispered in his ear: "He is gone; he is away through the forest. We know nothing of him."
"That is a pity; I have long felt curiosity on his account."
To the side stood a fairy with a boy's body and a girl's face, who scratched himself incessantly: head, belly, leg, buttock, nose, elbow, neck. Looking up from his scratching he took time to call out: "It was that little braggart we called Tippet! Ah, but I punished him properly, with a fine mordet*!"
*mordet: a fairy invocation, usually of bad luck; a curse King Throbius spoke to the side.
"Where is good Skepe of the long arm?"
"I am here, Sire."
"Cut a fine switch and dust Falael's breeches with three and one-half smart celebrations."
Falael instantly set up a howling outcry. "Let fairness prevail! I spoke only truth!"
"Hereafter, when you speak truth, use less gusto and vainglory. Your mordet caused our humiliation! You must learn tact!"
"Ah, your Majesty, I have already been taught tact by your august example! Perhaps I already know too much, so that I cloak my awe at your Majesty's transcendent might with a possibly all too transparent film of bravado! I beg that you re-instruct Skepe from his work!"
From everywhere around the meadow came a thoughtful and approving murmur, and even King Throbius was affected. "Well spoken, Falael! Skepe, diminish by one full stroke your effort!"
Falael called out: "That is good news, your Majesty, but still it is only a start! May I continue my remarks?"
"I have heard enough."
"In that case, Sire, I will say no more, especially if you will agree to mitigate my itch."
"Impossible. The itch shall proceed, in order to cure that waspish malice which has wearied so many of us."
Visbhume called out: "Your Majesty, if you will allow me a word aside with Falael, I believe that I can persuade him to remorse."
King Throbius stroked his fine green-gold beard. "That would seem a kindly act, and surely could do no harm."
"Thank you, your Majesty." Visbhume signaled to Falael. "Step over here, if you will."
Falael dealt with an itch under his left arm-pit, then followed Visbhume to a place somewhat aside. "Mind you, I will hear no preachments and if you touch me with a Christian cross, I will transform all your teeth into barnacles."
Skepe spoke hopefully to King Throbius: "If I find them standing properly side by side, may I come up quietly behind and catch them two at a blow?"
King Throbius reflected, then signified in the negative. "Your switch is far too short."
Visbhume, overhearing the conversation, took pains to stand with Skepe in his range of vision. He spoke in low tones to Falaeclass="underline" "I will intercede for you with King Throbius if you satisfy my curiosity in regard to the boy Tippet, although naturally I cannot promise that he will heed my advice."
Falael laughed scornfully. "You will do well to intercede for yourself. I believe that you are to be transformed into a night-crake."
"Not so! I am assured of this! Tell me of the boy Tippet."
"There is little to tell. He was obnoxious and vain; I was instrumental in expelling him from the shee."
"Where then did he go?"
"Off into the forest, but then there was more. Rhodion, Monarch of All Fairies, with great injustice dissolved my mordet and gave the girl Glyneth the power of speech with animals, while I was rendered only this offensive itch."
"Glyneth, you say. And then?"
"I paid no heed, for my own troubles were on me. If you must know more, go to the girl Glyneth."
"And who was the boy's father, and who the mother?"
"Wood-cutters, peasants, simple human folk. Bother me no more, as I know no more!" Falael made as if to turn away, but was delayed by a severe itching of the groin.
Visbhume cried out: "But where is the boy now? How is he known?"
"I care not a whit, and I hope not to see him again, for I should surely do him a mischief and suffer new vexations in consequence. Now then, intercede for me, as you promised. If you fail, I will visit a mordet upon you!"
"I can only do my best." Visbhume turned back to face King Throbius, "Your Majesty, I find that Falael is basically congenial. He has been misled by his companions, who have brought him into disgrace. As a disinterested party, before I remove the nexus and causeway from your domain, I wish to urge that your Majesty on this occasion temper justice with mercy."
"It is a large demand which you make of me," said King Throbius.
"True, but since Falael feels true remorse, further demonstration of your displeasure must be futile."
"A favor for a favor," said King Throbius. "I agree to forgive Falael and in return you must leave your fascinating nexus here on Madling Meadow."
Visbhume bowed. "Your Majesty has spoken; I am in accord."
The company of fairies gave a great yelping chortle of delight for the victory astute King Throbius had won over the peculiar mortal; there was capering, somersaults, clicking of the heels in mid-air and small joyous jigs.
Visbhume bowed low. "Your Majesty, though I have surrendered my valuable nexus, it has been in a good cause and now I crave your leave to depart."
"First things first," said King Throbius. "A single matter hangs in the air. Skepe, administer three and one-half strokes minus one stroke to Falael, as specified."
"Your Majesty!" cried Visbhume in shock. "It was precisely this beating which you agreed to spare poor Falael!"
"Not so! I agreed to forgive Falael, which I have done, fully and freely. The beating will be for other pranks which have gone undetected and which Falael no doubt richly deserves."
"Would this guilt not be cancelled by your forgiveness?"
"Perhaps so, but a weight still hangs in the air. Two and one-half strokes have been ordained; they must be effected. Since you have forfended these strokes from Falael, the logic of circumstances diverts them to your own crawling hide. Dango, Pume, Thwither: down with Visbhume's breeches; let him hold his backside at the ready. Now then, Skepe: do your duty!"
"Ai hi yi!" cried Visbhume.
"One!"
"Ai-ee ha!"
"Two!"
"Oo-oh! Oo-ha! .... Zappir tzug muig lenka! Groagha teka!* But the half was stronger than the two full strokes together!"
*Untranslatable: curses in the pie-Celtic dialect of the Wysrod peasantry, who were renowned for their mouth-filling epithets. Scholars will note that in this particular dialect the elision of vowels is very far advanced.
"Yes, that is sometimes implicit in the nature of things," King Throbius agreed. "But no matter; you have had your way and Falael has been reprieved, though I am not sure of his remorse. See how he sits yonder on a post, grinning for sheer joy!"
Visbhume, after regaining his dress, bowed once again. "Your Majesty, I leave you to the enjoyment of your nexus."
"You have my leave to go. I must investigate this fascinating nexus."