Lyonesse

Dhrun had overheard the conversation with great joy; it seemed that Glyneth had evaded Carfilhiot. Feigning blindness, he groped for the door and descended to the ground, though he found it hard to control his exultation. How beautiful the world looked! How green the trees, how noble the horses! He had never before seen Dr. Fidelius' wagon: gaudy, tall and eccentric of proportion. And here was Glyneth, as dear and pretty as ever, though now she was pale and strained, and her blonde curls were tangled around dry twigs and oak leaves.

Dhrun stood by the wagon, peering into nothingness. Carfilhiot threw the pallet into the wagon. Dhrun watched him furtively. So this was the enemy! Dhrun had imagined him older, with ropy features and a mottled nose, but Carfilhiot was clear-eyed and splendidly handsome.

"Into the wagon," said Carfilhiot. "Quick, the both of you."

"Fiirst my cats must have a run!" cried Glyneth. "And something to eat! I'll give them some cheese."

"If there is cheese, bring it here," said Carfilhiot. "The cats can eat grass, and tonight all of us may eat cat."

Glyneth made no response, and gave Carfilhiot the cheese without comment. The cats took their exercise, and would have prolonged the occasion. Glyneth was compelled to speak sternly before they would return to their baskets. And once again the wagon drove south.

Inside the wagon Dhrun exclaim to Glyneth: "I can see! Last night the bees flew from my eyes! They are as good as ever! My eyes, not the bees."

"Sh!" said Glyneth. "That is wonderful news! But we must not let Carfilhiot know! He is as crafty as he is terrible."

"I will never be sad again," said Dhrun. "No matter what happens. I will think back to the time when the world was dark."

"I would feel happier if we were riding with someone else," said Glyneth wistfully. "I spent all last night in a tree."

"If he dares touch you, I will cut him in pieces," declared Dhrun. "Don't forget! I can see now."

"Perhaps it won't come to that. Tonight he may be thinking of other things... I wonder if Shimrod is trying to find us?"

"He can't be too far behind."

The wagon rolled south, and an hour after noon arrived at the market-town Honriot, where Carfilhiot bought bread, cheese, apples and a jug of wine.

In the center of Honriot, Icnield Way crossed the East-West Road; Carfilhiot drove to the west urging the horses to ever greater speed, as if he too anticipated the coming of Shimrod. Snorting, shaking their manes, heads low to the ground or sometimes raised on high, the great black horses plunged west, their soft tiger feet thrusting back the ground. Behind trundled the wagon, wheels bounding, the body swaying on its long laminated easy-ways. Occasionally Carfilhiot used his whip, cracking it upon the glistening black haunches, and the horses tossed their heads in rage.

"Take care, take care!" they cried back. "We obey the instruction of your reins, because that is the way it must be; but do not presume, or we might turn and rear over you and flail down our great black feet, and drag you to the dirt and stamp you into the ground! Hear, and have a care!"

Carfilhiot could not understand their speech and used the whip as suited his pleasure; and the horses tossed their heads in ever-mounting fury.

Late in the afternoon the wagon passed King Deuel's summer palace. For the day's entertainment King Deuel had ordained a pageant entitled: "Birds of Fantasy." With great artistry his courtiers had bedecked themselves in black and white feathers, to simulate imaginary sea-birds. Their ladies had been allowed more latitude and they promenaded along the greensward in total avian extravagance, using the plumes of ostrich, egret, lyrebirds, peacocks and vesprils. Some wore confections of pale green, others cerise or mauve or golden-ochre: a prospect of the most gorgeous complexity, and one enjoyed to its fullest by Mad King Deuel, who sat on a tall throne, costumed as a cardinal, the only red bird of the pageant. He was enthusiastic in his praises and called out compliments, pointing with tip of his red wing.

Carfilhiot, recalling his previous encounter with King Deuel, pulled the wagon up short. He considered a moment, then descended and called Glyneth down to the road.

He instructed her in terms which admitted of neither argument nor flexibility. She lowered the side panel to make a platform, brought out her basket, and with Dhrun playing the pipes, set her cats to dancing.

The ladies and gentlemen in their remarkable finery came to watch; they laughed and clapped their hands, and some of them went to call King Deuel's attention to the novel exercises.

King Deuel presently stepped down from his throne and sauntered across the sward to watch the display. He smiled and nodded, but he was not altogether uncritical. "I see here an ingenious effort, to be sure, and the antics are amusing enough. Ha! Excellent saltation there! That black cat is agile! Still it must be remembered that the feline is a lesser order, when all is said. Dare I ask why we have no dancing birds?"

Carfilhiot spoke up. "Your Majesty, I sequester the dancing birds within the wagon! We deem them too exquisite for the common view!"

Mad King Deuel spoke haughtily: "Do you then characterize my august vision as vulgar and common, or anything other than sublime?"

"Indeed not, your Majesty! You are welcome, and you alone, to inspect the extraordinary spectacle inside the wagon."

King Deuel, mollified, marched to the back of the wagon. "A moment, your Majesty!" Carfilhiot closed the side panel, cats and all, and went to the rear. "Glyneth, inside! Dhrun, inside! Prepare the birds for his Majesty. Now, sir, up these steps, and in with you!"

He closed and barred the door, and climbing to the front seat, drove away at a mad gallop. The befeathered ladies looked after in puzzlement; some of the men ran a few steps along the road but were impeded by their black and white plumage, and so, with wings trailing, they returned to the sward before the summer palace, where they tried to fit some pattern of logic upon the occurrence.

Within the wagon King Deuel shouted out orders: "Halt this vehicle at once! I see no birds whatever! This is a most insipid prank!"

Carfilhiot called down through the window: "In due course, your Majesty, I will halt the wagon. Then we shall discuss the plumes and quills that you decreed for my backside!"

King Deuel became silent and for the rest of the day made only fretful clucking sounds.

The day drew toward a close. In the south appeared a line of low gray hills; an outlying arm of Forest Tantrevalles lay dark across the north. Peasant huts became rare and the land tended toward the wild and melancholy.

At sunset Carfilhiot drove the wagon across a meadow to a copse of elms and beeches.

As before Carfilhiot unharnessed the horses and put them to graze on a long tether, while Glyneth cooked the supper. King Deuel refused to leave the wagon, and Dhrun, still feigning blindness, sat on a fallen log.

Glyneth brought soup to King Deuel and served him bread and cheese as well; then she went to sit by Dhrun. They spoke in low voices.

Dhrun said: "He pretends not to watch you, but everywhere you go his eyes follow."

"Dhrun, don't become reckless. He can kill us, but that is the worst he can do."

Dhrun said through clenched teeth: "I won't allow him to touch you. I will die first."

Glyneth whispered: "I've thought of something, so don't worry. Remember, you are still blind!"

Carfilhiot rose to his feet. "Dhrun, into the wagon with you."

Dhrun said sullenly: "I intend to stay with Glyneth."

Carfilhiot seized him, carried him kicking and fighting to the wagon and thrust him inside and barred the door. He turned toward Glyneth. "Tonight there are no trees to climb."