Madouc laughed. "You are the second today to ask me such a question."

"And what was your response?"

"I told him that my words meant what I said they meant."

"You have odd quirks in your mind for one so young." Kerce turned in his seat and gave her his full attention. "And what brings you here? Is it caprice, or the work of Destiny?"

Madouc said soberly: "I have a question which I hope you will answer."

"Ask away; I will lay out all my lore for your inspection."

"There has been much talk of relics here at Haidion. I have become curious about what they call the Holy Grail. Is there indeed such a thing? If so, what does it look like, and where might it be found?"

"Of the Holy Grail I can tell you only a few bare facts," said d Kerce. "While I know of a hundred religions, I give credencee to none. The Grail is reputedly the chalice used by Jesus Christos when last he dined with his disciples. The chalice came into the hands of Joseph of Arimathea, who, so it is said, caught blood in the chalice from the wounds of the crucified Christ.

Subsequently, Joseph wandered across the world and at last visited Ireland, where he left the Grail on Isle Inchagoill in Lough Corrib north of Gaiway. A band of heathen Celts threatened the island chapel, and a monk named Father Sisembert brought the to chalice to the Elder Isles, and from this point onward the stories go at variance. According to one account the chalice is buried in crypts on Weamish Isle. Another reports that as Father Sisembert passed through the Forest of Tantrevalles, he met a dreadful ogre, who put him to evil uses, claiming that Father ad Sisembert had neglected courtesy. One of the ogre's three heads drank Sisimbert's blood; another ate his liver. The third head suffered from toothache and, lacking appetite, made dice of Sisimbert's knuckles. But perhaps that is only a story to be told around the fire on stormy nights."

"And who would know the truth?"

Kerce made a pensive gesture. "Who can say? Perhaps in the end it is all no more than legend. Many knights of chivalry have sought the Grail across the length and breadth of Christendom, and many have wandered the Elder Isles on the quest. Some departed forlorn; others died in combat or suffered bewitchment; others disappeared and have been seen no more. In truth, it seems mortal peril to seek the Grail!"

"Why should that be? unless somewhere it is guarded with great jealousy?"

"As to that, I cannot say. And never forget that in the end, the quest may only be the pursuit of an ideal dream!"

"Do you believe so?"

"I have no beliefs in this regard, nor in many another. Why are you concerned?"

"Queen Sollace wants to grace her new cathedral with the Holy Grail. She has gone so far as to offer me in marriage to whomever brings her this object! My own wishes, needless to say, were not consulted."

Kerce gave a dry chuckle. "I begin to understand your interest!"

"If I myself found the Grail, then I would be safe from such an annoyance."

"So it would seem-still, the Grail may no longer exist."

"If such is the case, a false Grail might be offered the queen. She would not know the difference."

"But I would," said Kerce. "The ploy would not succeed; I can assure you of this!"

Madouc looked at him sidewise. "How can you be so sure?"

Kerce compressed his lips, as if he had said more than he might have wished. "It is a secret. I will share it with you, if you hold it tightly to yourself."

"I promise."

Kerce rose to his feet and went to a cupboard. He removed a portfolio, extracted a drawing which he brought to the table. Madouc saw depicted a footed pale blue chalice eight inches tall, with handles at either side, slightly irregular. A dark blue band encircled the top rim; the base showed a ring of the same dark blue color.

"This is a drawing of the Grail. It was sent from Ireland to the monastery on Weamish Isle long ago, and rescued from the Goths by one of the monks. It is a true depiction, exact even to this nick in the base, and the differing length of the handles."

Kerce returned drawing and portfolio to the cupboard. "Now you know what there is to be known of the Grail. I prefer to keep the drawing secret, for several reasons."

"I will keep silent," said Madouc. "Unless the queen tries to marry me to someone who brings her a false Grail; then, if all else fails-""

Kerce waved his hand. "Say no more. I will make a true and accurate copy of the drawing, which may be used for attestation, if any such is needed."

Madouc departed the library; then, taking pains to go unobserved, she went around to the stables. Sir Pom-Pom was nowhere in evidence. Madouc looked in on Tyfer and rubbed his nose, then returned to the castle.

At noon Madouc dined in the Small Refectory with her six maids-in-waiting. Today they were unusually voluble, for there was much to discuss. King Casmir's proclamation, however, came to dominate the conversation. Elissia remarked, perhaps with sincerity, that Madouc must now be considered a famous person, whose name would resound down centuries to come. "Think of it!" sighed Elissia. "Here is the sheer stuff of romance! Legends will tell how handsome knights from far and near dared fire, ice, dragon and troll; how they fought crazed Celt and fierce Goth, all for love of the beautiful red-haired princess!"

Madouc offered a small correction. "My hair is not precisely red. It is a most unusual colour, as of copper alloyed with gold."

Chlodys said: "Nevertheless, for purposes of the legend, you will be considered red-haired and beautiful, with no regard whatever for the truth."

Devonet made a thoughtful comment. "As of now, we cannot be absolutely sure that this legend will come to pass."

"How so?" asked Ydraint.

"Much depends upon circumstances. Assume that some valiant and handsome knight brings the Holy Grail to Queen Sollace. King Casmir asks as to what boon the brave knight desires. At this point events hang in the balance. If he decides that he is disinclined for marriage, he might ask the king for a fine horse or a pair of good hunting dogs-which of course provides small scope for a legend."

Chlodys said sagaciously: "It is a risky situation."

Felice spoke: "Another matter! It is the best relic which wins the boon! So that after great efforts and far quests, the best relic brought to the queen might be, let us say, a hair from the tail of the lion who ate Saint Milicia in the Roman arena. Poor stuff, of course, but Madouc must still marry the lummox who submits such an article."

Madouc tossed her head. "I am not so pliable as you might like to think."

Devonet spoke with grave concern. "I will counsel you! Be meek, modest and patient! Yield gracefully to the king's commands! It is not only your duty; it is also the way of prudence. That is my reasoned advice."

Madouc listened with no great attention. "Naturally, you must do as you think proper."

"One word more! The king has declared that if you cark or pout, or attempt to avoid his fiat, he will simply give you off into servitude!"

Chlodys turned to Madouc, who sat stolidly eating raisin pudding. "And what do you say to that?"

"Nothing."

"But what will you do?"

"You shall see."

VII

On the second day of the festival King Milo and Queen Caudabil were aroused early from their beds and allowed only a quick breakfast of curds and groats so that they might be on hand to call out the start to the tug-of-war between the members of the Fishmonger's Guild and the Stonemason's Guild.

Madouc was also up early, before Lady Vosse could communicate the wishes of Queen Sollace. Madouc went directly out to the stables. This fine bright morning she found Sir Pom-Pom forking manure from the stalls into a barrow. "Sir Pom-Pom!" called Madouc. "Step outside, if you please, where the air is less thick."