Madouc, restraining comment, paid the cobbler. "The past is past. Let us be on our way."

The two adventurers departed Biddle Bray by Bidbottle Lane, which led north toward Modoiry, a village on Old Street. After a mile or two Sir Pom-Pom recovered something of his bravado. He began to whistle and presently he said: "You spoke correctly! The past is past; today is today! The road is open; the sun shines bright, and somewhere the Holy Grail awaits my coming!"

"So it may be," said Madouc.

"Footing it is not so bad," Pom-Pom went on. "I see many advantages. Fodder and drench no longer concern us nor the nuisances of tether, bridle, blanket and saddle. We can also put aside all fear of horse thieves."

"Whatever the case, horseback or afoot, it is no great distance to Thripsey Shee," said Madouc.

"Even so, that need not be our first destination," said Sir Pom-Pom. "I am anxious to search for the Holy Grail: first in the crypts on Weamish Isle, where I suspect we will find a secret compartment."

Madouc responded with decision: "First we fare to Thripsey Shee, and there we will take advice from my mother."

Sir Pom-Pom scowled and kicked at a pebble.

"It serves no purpose to pout and sulk," said Madouc. "We shall keep a vigilant watch to right and left as we go."

Sir Pom-Pom turned a sullen side-glance upon Madouc. "Your cap is pulled low and rests on your ears and nose. I wonder how you can see the road in front of your feet, much less the land scape to right and left."

"You watch the landscape and I will guide us to Thripsey Shee," said Madouc. "And now what I see ahead is a blackberry thicket heavy with fruit. It would be a shame to pass by without a taste."

Sir Pom-Pom pointed. "Someone already works at the harvest. He may even be on guard against vagabonds such as our selves."

Madouc scrutinized the person to whom Sir Pom-Pom had referred. "I would take him for a kindly old gentleman out for a stroll, who has paused to pick a few berries into his hat. Still, I will ask as to the berries."

Madouc approached the thicket, where a man of mature years, in costume characteristic of the lesser gentry, paused at his work. Weather and sun had browned his skin and bleached his hair; his features were undistinguished, though even and regular; the gaze of his gray eyes was mild, so that Madouc felt no hesitation in addressing him. "Sir, are these berries under your control, or are they available to others?"

"I must answer both ‘yes' and ‘no'. For berries already picked and in my hat I feel an attachment. Those berries yet on the bush I place under no restriction whatever."

"In that case I will pick a few berries on my account, as will Sir Pom-Pom."

‘Sir Pom-Pom', is it? Since I mingle with the aristocracy, he I must look to my manners."

"I am not truly a knight," said Sir Pom-Pom modestly. "It is only a manner of speaking."

"Here among the bushes it matters little," said the old man. "Knight and commoner alike cry ‘Ay caray!' at the prick of a thorn, and the favor is the same on both tongues. As for me, my name is Travante; my rank or its lack are equally irrelevant." Travante looked down at Madouc, who picked from a branch nearby. "Below that cap I seem to notice red curls, and also some extremely blue eyes."

"My hair is more copper-gold then red."

"So I see, upon closer attention. And what is your name?"

"I am Madouc."

The three picked blackberries, then sat together by the side of the road and ate their harvest. Travante asked: "Since you came from the south, you are faring to the north. Where are you bound?"

"First to Modoiry on Old Street," said Madouc. "Truth to tell, we are vagabonds of a sort, Sir Pom-Pom and I, and each of us has a quest to fulfill."

"I too am a vagabond," said Travante. "I too pursue a quest - one which is futile and forlorn, or so I have been told by those who remain at home. If I may, I will accompany you, at least for a space."

"Do so and welcome," said Madouc. "What is the quest that takes you so far and wide?"

Travante looked off down the road, smiling. "It is an extraordinary quest. I am searching for my lost youth."

"Indeed!" said Madouc. "How did you lose it?" Travante held out his hands in a gesture of puzzlement. "I cannot be sure. I had it one moment and the next time I thought to notice it was gone."

Madouc glanced at Sir Pom-Pom, who was staring dumbfounded at Travante. She said: "I suppose you are sure of your facts."

"Oh indeed! I remember it distinctly! Then it was as if I walked around the table and poof! I found myself an old man."

"There must have been the usual and ordinary intervals in between?"

"Dreams, my dear. Figments, wisps, sometimes a nightmare. But what of you?"

"It is simple. I do not know my father. My mother is a fairy from Thripsey Shee. I am seeking my father and with him my pedigree."

"And Sir Pom-Pom: what does he seek?"

"Sir Pom-Pom seeks the Holy Grail, in accordance with King Casmir's proclamation."

"Ah! He is of religious persuasion?"

"Not so," said Sir Pom-Pom. "If I bring the Holy Grail to Queen Sollace, she will grant me a boon. I might well choose to marry the Princess Madouc, though she is as high-handed and vain as the artful little frippet who sits beside you now."

Travante glanced down at Madouc. "Could she possibly be one and the same individual?"

Sir Pom-Pom put on his most portentous frown. "There are certain facts we do not want generally known. Still, I can say this: you have guessed a good guess."

Madouc told Travante: "Another fact is not generally known, especially to Sir Pom-Pom. He must learn that his dreams of marriage and the boon have nothing to do with me."

Sir Pom-Pom said obstinately: "I can only rely upon the assurances of Queen Sollace in this regard."

"So long as I control the Tinkle-toe Imp-spring, I will have the last word in this matter," said Madouc. She rose to her feet. "It is time we were on our way."

Travante said: "Sir Pom-Pom. I strongly suspect that you will never marry Madouc. I advise you to work toward a more accessible goal."

"I will give the matter thought," growled Sir Pom-Pom. The three set off to the north along Bidbottle Lane. "We make a notable company," declared Travante. "I am as I am! Sir Pom-Pom is strong and brave, while Madouc is clever and resourceful; also, with her copper-gold curls, her wry little face and her eyes of heartbreak blue she is both quaint and vastly appealing."

"She can also be a vixen, when it suits her mood," said Sir Pom-Pom.

III

Bidbottle Lane wound north across the countryside: up hill and down dale, into the shade of the Wanswold Oaks, out across Scrimsour Downs. Overhead floated lazy white clouds; their shadows drifted across the landscape. The sun moved up the sky; as it reached the zenith, the three wayfarers arrived at Modoiry, where Bidbottle Lane met Old Street. Madouc and Sir Pom-Pom would proceed another three miles east to Little Saffield, then fare north beside the River Timble and on to the Forest of Tantrevalles. Travante intended to continue past Little Saffield to the Long Downs, that he might conduct his search among the dolmens of the Stollshot Circus.

As the three approached Little Saffield Madouc found herself increasingly disturbed by the prospect of parting with Travante, whose company she found both reassuring and amusing; further, his presence seemed to discourage Sir Pom-Pom's occasional tendencies toward pomposity. Madouc finally suggested that Travante accompany them, at least as far as Thripsey Shee.

Travante reflected upon the proposal. Then, somewhat dubiously, he said: "I know nothing of halflings; indeed, all my life I have been wary of them. Too many tales are told of their caprice and exaggerated conduct."