"As your Highness commands! I suggest that the princess come with me now, that the work may be expedited!"

"Sensible and to the point! Madouc, you have my leave to go."

VI

The dressmakers brought out their fabrics, and consulted among themselves as to the nature and scope of their undertaking. Madouc, still smarting from Queen Sollace's deprecatory instructions, listened with head cocked sidewise. At last she intervened. "You are talking for naught! I want none of your sallow yellows or pasty ecrus or horse-vomit greens, and you must reconsider your styles!" the senior seamstress, spoke with concern. "How so, Your Highness? We are bound to sew what is genteel and suitable!"

"You are bound to sew what I will consent to wear; otherwise your work will be wasted."

"Of course, Your Highness! We want you to be happy and at ease in your garments!"

"Then you must sew as I direct. I will not wear these blooming pantaloons or these bloodless bodices that you are discussing."

"Ah, Your Highness, these are what young maidens of your age are wearing."

"That is the least of my concerns."

Hulda sighed. "Ah well, then! How does Your Highness wish to be dressed?"

Madouc indicated a bolt of cornflower blue and another of nubbled white linen. "Use this and this. And here: what is this?"

She pulled from the case a somewhat scant bolt of dark red velvet, soft of texture, of color so deep as to verge upon black.

"That is a hue known as ‘Black Rose'," said Hulda in a dispirited voice. "It is quite unsuitable for a person of your age, and also, it is little more than a scrap."

Madouc paid no heed. "This is a most beautiful stuff. Also, there seems to be just enough to wrap around my skin."

Hulda said hurriedly: "There is not enough cloth for a proper girl's gown, with such pleats, flounces, swags and fullness as style and modesty dictate."

"Then I will have a gown without these decorations, because I am ravished by the color."

Hulda attempted expostulation, but Madouc would not listen. She pointed out that time was limited and that the gown of Black Rose velvet must be cut and sewed before all else, and so it was, despite Hulda's misgivings. "Truly, the material is scanty! The gown will fit you more explicitly than your age would seem to necessitate."

"That is as may be," said Madouc. "I believe the costume will have great charm, and for some strange reason the color is in accord with my hair."

"I must admit that the gown will probably become you," said Hulda grudgingly. "If in a manner somewhat premature."

CHAPTER TEN

The sun rose into a dreary sky, with clouds driving in from the Lir portending storms and rain for the journey to Avallon. Ignoring the dismal prospect, King Casmir and Prince Cassander had ridden from Haidion before dawn, that they might visit Fort Mael along the way. At the castle Ronart Cinquelon, near Tat-willow, where Old Street met Icnield Way, they would rejoin the main party and continue the journey north.

In due course, Queen Sollace, languid and yawning, rose from her bed. She made her breakfast upon porridge and cream, a dozen dates stuffed with soft cheese, and a heartening dish of sweetbreads seethed in milk and cinnamon. During her meal Sir Mungo, the High Seneschal, came to inform her that the royal carriages, escort, equipage, and all else awaited her convenience in the King's Parade.

Queen Sollace responded with a sad grimace. "Do not remind me, good Sir Mungo! I anticipate only discomfort, bad, smells and monotony; why could not the colloquy be called here at Haidion, if only for my sake?"

"As to that, Your Majesty, I cannot say."

"Ah! What is, is! This I have learned with brutal emphasis over the years! So it is now and I must endure the nuisance with all good grace!"

Sir Mungo bowed. "I will await Your Majesty in the Octagon."

Sollace was dressed; her hair was coiled and coiffed; her face and hands were refreshed with balm of almonds, and finally she was ready for the journey.

The carriages waited below the terrace, along the King's Parade. Queen Sollace came from the castle and crossed the terrace, pausing occasionally to address last-minute instructions to Sir Mungo, who responded to each of her requirements with the same urbane equanimity.

Queen Sollace descended to the Parade and was assisted into the royal carriage. She settled herself into the cushions and a robe of baby-fox fur was tucked across her lap. Madouc then entered the carriage, followed by Lady Tryffyn and Lady Sipple, and last by a certain Damsel Kylas, who had lately been appointed to attend Madouc.

All was in readiness. Queen Sollace nodded to Sir Mungo, who stood back and signalled the heralds. They blew three ‘Royal Retreat' fanfares, and the cortege moved off across the King's Parade. The procession turned up the Sfer Arct, and the company settled itself for the journey. Madouc sat beside Queen Sollace. Facing her was Damsel Kylas, a maiden sixteen years old, of high principles and dedicated rectitude, though Madouc found her tiresome, lacking both charm and wit. Prompted either by vanity or by exaggerated sensitivity, Kylas suspected that all men, young and old, who passed nearby had come to ogle her and perhaps make improper advances. The conviction caused her to bridle and toss her head, whether the man looked in her direction or not. The habit puzzled Madouc, since her thin shoulders and large hips, saturnine face with its long nose, black protuberant eyes and bundles of wiry black curls hanging to each side, like panniers on a donkey, created no image of memorable beauty. It was Kylas' habit to stare with fixed and unblinking attention at an object of interest. Madouc, sitting opposite, was unable to evade the scrutiny. She thought to fight fire with fire, and for five minutes focused her gaze on the tip of Kylas' nose, without effect. Madouc became bored, and turned away in defeat.

The procession entered the Arqueers; at the same time the weather which earlier had presaged so poorly, changed; clouds and mist dissolved; the sun shone bright upon the landscape. Queen Sollace said, somewhat complacently: "This morning I prayed that the weather be kind to us, and make our journey safe and pleasant, and so it is."

Lady Tryffyn, Lady Sipple and Kylas uttered appropriate sounds of wonder and gratification. Queen Sollace arranged a basket of honeyed figs conveniently to hand and spoke to Madouc. "Now, my dear, you may recount all concerning the recovery of the Blessed Grail!"

Madouc looked around the carriage. Kylas stared with owlish intensity; the two court ladies, ostensibly sympathetic, could not mask their hunger for sensation, ultimately to become the precious stuff of gossip.

Madouc turned to Queen Sollace: "Such information, Your Highness, is suited for your royal ears alone! There are secrets which should not be heard by the common folk."

"Bah!" grunted Sollace. "Lady Tryffyn and Lady Sipple are trusted intimates; they can hardly be described as ‘common folk'! Kylas is a baptized Christian; she has interest in naught but the Blessed Grail itself."

"So it may be," said Madouc. "Still, I am constrained."

"Nonsense! Proceed with your narrative!"

"I dare not, Your Highness! If you wish fully to understand my prudence, come with me, you and I together, deep into the Forest of Tantrevalles."

"Alone? Without an escort? That is insanity." Sollace pulled on the bell cord; the carriage halted and a livened groom jumped down to look through the window. "What are Your Majesty's needs?"

"These ladies will ride for a space in one of the other carriages. Narcissa, Dansy, Kylas: be good enough to oblige me in this regard. As Madouc indicates, there may be matter here unsuited for general dissemination."