"Before or after his death?"
"Before, but only moments before."
"Tell me about it."
"With pleasure," Albertus said. "This fellow's name was Phillipe, and he lived in a village not far from here. Handsome indeed he was, far handsomer than a young fellow had any right to be. Everything came easy for him, and the more he got, the more he wanted, and the less satisfied he became. One day he beheld Miranda, daughter of a wealthy man hereabouts. She was just fifteen at this time, and beautiful as dawn upon the mountain. Delicate and pure she was, and she had planned to live her life in utmost purity, aspiring only to do good.
"Having seen her, Phillipe became inflamed of her, and though it is said he was a coward, he aspired still to winning her. One day Phillipe climbed the wall around her father's house and went into the churning room and spoke to her. Miranda had been raised in isolation, and had never seen a man like this. Everyone in her father's household was old except for her three brothers, and they were away fighting in one war or another.
"Phillipe seduced her with sweet words and impassioned tales of his own trials. Miranda was softhearted, and she was greatly moved to learn that he was sickly and apt to live but a little while longer. A lie, so he thought, but a prophecy as it turned out! He feigned a fainting spell, and she let him put his arm around her to support himself. They touched. And so one thing led to another.
"It is a tale often told, alas. In brief, he seduced her, and she ran away with him, for he swore that he would take care of her. But when they came to the first large city, Civalle in Provence, Phillipe abandoned her and went his own way.
"Alone, Miranda had a desperate time of it until she became the model for the painter Chodlos. She lived with him for some months as his mistress and they seemed happy enough. Chodlos was a big bear of a man, but not strong despite his size. He was always jolly, though too much given to drink. He painted his famous Magdalene with Miranda as his model. He could have been truly great. But before the year was out, he was dead, his head broken in a tavern brawl.
"Miranda was heartbroken, because she had loved the painter. Chodlos' creditors took away all the furniture and his paintings, and turned Miranda out of the apartment. She had no money and no place to go. Finally, as the only alternative to starvation, she went to work in a brothel. But bad luck was not through with her yet. One night a madman came to the brothel. No one knows what transpired between him and Miranda; but before anyone could stop him, he had put out her eyes, and then cut her throat.
"Hearing of this, her brothers, Ansel, Chor, and Hald, came to the city for revenge. The madman was already dead, torn to pieces by a mob. The brothers found Phillipe drinking in a tavern with a new light o' love. They bent him back over a table, told him he would die as Miranda had died. Then they tore his eyes out and cut his throat. That is the history of the head that you here behold."
"It's actually a very nice head," Azzie said, lifting the head and looking into its ruined eye sockets. "Now what I need is a matching female head. This Miranda. A madman killed her, eh? Master Albertus, do you know what happened to her body? And most especially, her head?"
"Alas, I know not," said Albertus.
"You have helped me greatly," Azzie said. "Name your price for this head."
Chapter 1
"Master, look at this."
It was the fourth head Frike had brought in that week. This one was a dark-tressed lady who still looked pretty good, especially if you could repair her nose, which the worms had gotten at.
"No, Frike, it won't do." Azzie sighed and turned away.
"But why, lord? She's perfect!"
"There's only one who could be considered perfect."
"Who is that, lord?"
"Frike, the perfect accompaniment to our Prince Charming will be Miranda, the girl Phillipe seduced."
"But we do not know where she is!"
"Not yet." Azzie got up, prowled around restlessly for a moment. "But we will find her."
"The head has probably gone moldy by now."
"You can never tell. If by some good fortune her face is not obliterated, she will be my Princess Scarlet in the little charade I am preparing."
"But, lord, we have no clues as to its whereabouts."
"We'll start in Civalle, where she died. She's probably buried there."
"Master, it's a waste of time. You have little time left anyhow before the contest, and there is much to do."
"Pack our horses, Frike. I am an artist in these matters. I must have Miranda's head for my Princess."
"She had a gaudy history, master, but why this particular wench?"
"Don't you see, Frike? It makes my plan more elegant. We will bring these lovers together again after death. Their conscious memories will be gone, of course. But something will remain. Something that will help bring a fine conclusion to my tale of Prince Charming and Princess Scarlet. We must find her body and hope that the face is still all right. Go, ready the horses."
Frike packed the horses and they set out to Civalle in southern Provence. It was late June and travel was easy and pleasant. Frike had hoped that Azzie would transport them by supernatural means. Azzie said the distance was too close to go to all the bother of setting up a travel spell and activating it.
They arrived in Civalle, a pleasant southern city near Nice. From Albertus' description it was easy to find the brothel where Miranda had been killed. Azzie made inquiries of the madam and learned that her brothers had taken her remains away, no one knew where. Azzie rewarded her well for the information and asked if a garment of Miranda's remained. The madam found an old shift and sold it to him for two gold soldi. Whether it was indeed the genuine article, he could not be certain-yet.
When they left the brothel, Frike said, "What now, master?"
"You'll see in due course," Azzie replied.
He and Frike departed the town and passed into the forest. After a long while they camped, making a dinner of cold meat pie and boiled leeks. Afterward, at Azzie's instructions, Frike built a fire. When its flames finally leaped high, Azzie removed a small vial from the chest in which he carried his magical paraphernalia. He removed from it a single drop of dark liquid and let it fall into the fire.
The flames flared even higher. Frike cringed back.
"Pay attention," Azzie ordered, "for this is educational. Perhaps you have heard of the fabulous hunting dogs of the old gods? We have something better nowadays."
As the flames subsided three large birds flew into the camp and landed near Azzie. They were ravens, with small, sinister eyes.
"I hope all is well with you," Azzie said to them.
"We are well, Lord Demon," one of them replied.
"Meet my servant, Frike. Frike, meet the Morrigan. They are supernatural Irish birds, and their names are Babd, Macha, and Nemain."
"Pleased to meet you," Frike said, remaining well back, for they looked upon him with fierce appraisal.
"What can we do for your lordship?" Macha asked.
Azzie brought out Miranda's gown. "Find this woman," he said. "The one who last wore this. She is dead, by the way."
Babd sniffed at the cloth. "You didn't have to tell us that," he said.
"I forgot the extent of your powers. Go, peerless ones. Find this woman for me!"
When the ravens had flown away, Azzie said to Frike, "Let's make ourselves comfortable. This may take a while, but they will find her."
"I never doubted it," Frike replied.