Lyonesse

Sir Lenard uttered a grim laugh. "At the first difference of opinion the armies might well overcome the diplomats."

King Casmir also laughed. "That condition need not arise. Let King Audry rule supreme until his death. Then I will rule until my death. Prince Dorcas shall succeed me. In the event that he breeds no sons. Prince Cassander will be next in line."

"That is an interesting concept," said Sir Milliflor drily. "King Audry is old, and you are relatively young; need I remind you? Prince Dorcas might wait thirty years for his crown."

"Possibly so," said King Casmir without interest.

"King Audry has instructed us," said Sir Milliflor. "His anxieties are similar to yours, but he is wary of your notorious ambitions. He suggests that you would like Dahaut to engage the Ska, thereby allowing you to attack Troicinet."

King Casmir sat silent a moment, then stirred and spoke. "Will Audry agree to a joint effort against the Ska?"

"He will indeed, if the armies are under his command."

"Has he no alternate proposals?"

"He notes that the Princess Suldrun will soon arrive at marriageable age. He suggests the possibility of betrothal between Princess Suldrun and Prince Whemus of Dahaut."

King Casmir leaned back in his chair. "Whemus is his third son?"

"That is true, your Majesty."*

*The honorifics of the time are modified by a hundred special cases. It is impossible to translate them into contemporary terms with both crispness and accuracy; they will therefore be rendered in more familiar, if simplistic, terms.

King Casmir smiled and touched his short blond beard. "Let us, rather, unite his first daughter, the Princess Cloire, with my nephew Sir Nonus Roman."

"We will dutifully convey your suggestion to the court at Avallon."

King Casmir drank from the chalice; the emissaries courteously drank as well. King Casmir looked from face to face. "Are you then merely messengers? Or in truth can you negotiate?"

Sir Milliflor said: "We may negotiate within the limits set by our instructions. Would you care to rephrase your proposal in the simplest way, without euphemism?"

King Casmir picked up the chalice in his two hands, held it to chin level, and turned his pale blue eyes over the top. "I propose that the assembled might of Lyonesse and Dahaut, under my command, attack the Ska and drive them back out across the Atlantic, and that next we subdue the Celts. I propose that we join our kingdoms not only through cooperation but also through marriage. Either Audry or I will die first. The survivor shall thereupon rule the joint kingdoms, to be known as the Kingdom of The Elder Isles, in the old fashion. My daughter Princess Suldrun shall marry the Prince Dorcas. My son Prince Cassander shall marry—suitably. So much I propose."

"The proposal has much in common with our position," said Sir Lenard. "King Audry prefers that military operations conducted on the soil of Dahaut be commanded by himself. Secondly—"

The negotiations proceeded another hour, but only emphasized the mutual inflexibility. Since nothing more had been expected the conversations ended on a polite basis. The envoys departed the Hall of Honors, that they might rest before the evening's banquet, while King Casmir remained brooding alone at the table. In the back room Suldrun watched in fascination, then in panic as King Casmir picked up one of the candelabra, turned and with heavy steps walked toward the back chamber.

Suldrun stood paralyzed. Her presence was known! She turned, darted to the side, ducked into the corner beside a storage case, and pulled a fragment of old rag over her shining hair.

The hangings parted; candlelight flickered through the chamber. Suldrun crouched, awaiting the voice of King Casmir. But he stood in silence, nostrils dilated, perhaps sensing the fragrance of the lavender sachet in which Suldrun's clothes were laid. He looked over his shoulder, then went to the back wall. From a crevice he took a thin iron rod, which he pushed into a small hole at the level of his knee, then into another somewhat higher. A door opened, emitting a light quivering and almost palpable, like a flickering alternation of purple and green. Out from the room flowed the thrilling tingle of magic. A pair of high-pitched voices produced a babbling outcry.

"Silence," said King Casmir. He entered the room and closed the door.

Suldrun jumped from the corner and departed the room. She ran across the Hall of Honors, slipped out into the Great Hall and thence to the Long Gallery. Once more, she went sedately to her rooms, where Dame Maugelin scolded her for soiled clothes and a dirty face.

Suldrun bathed, dressed in a warm robe. She went to the window with her lute and pretended to practice, making such energetic discords that Dame Maugelin threw up her hands and went elsewhere.

Suldrun was left alone. She put the lute aside and sat looking across the landscape. The time was late afternoon; the weather had broken; sunlight glistened on the wet roofs of Lyonesse Town.

Slowly, incident by incident, Suldrun reviewed the events of the day.

The three envoys from Dahaut interested her little, except that they wanted to take her away to Avallon and marry her to a strange man. Never! She would run away; she would become a peasant, or a minstrel girl, or gather mushrooms in the woods! The secret room behind the Hall of Honors in itself seemed neither extraordinary nor remarkable. In fact, it only corroborated certain of her half-formed suspicions regarding King Casmir, who wielded such absolute and awful power!

Dame Maugelin returned to the room, panting in haste and excitement. "Your father commands you to the banquet. He wishes you to be everything a beautiful princess of Lyonesse should be. Do you hear? You may wear your blue velvet gown and your moonstones. At all times remember court etiquette! Don't spill your food; drink very little wine. Speak only when you are addressed, then respond with courtesy and without chewing your words. Neither titter, nor scratch yourself, nor wriggle in your chair as if your bottom itched. Do not belch, gurgle or gulp. If someone breaks wind, do not stare or point or attempt to place the blame. Naturally you will control yoursell as well; nothing is more conspicuous than a farting princess. Come! I must brush your hair."

In the morning Suldrun went to take her lessons in the library, but again Master Jaimes was not on hand, nor on the day after, nor the day after. Suldrun became a trifle miffed. Surely Master Jaimes might have communicated with her despite his indisposition. For an entire week she ostentatiously absented herself from the library, but still no word from Master Jaimes!

In sudden alarm Suldrun sought out Dame Boudetta, who sent a footman to Master Jaimes' bleak little cell in the West Tower. The footman discovered Master Jaimes outstretched and dead on his pallet. His fever had become pneumonia, and he had died with no one the wiser.