Suldrun's Garden

Chapter 19

IN PREPARATION FOR THEIR journey the children brought the ogre's cart around to the front door of the hall, greased the axles well with tallow and loaded their treasures aboard. Across the shafts they tied poles, so that nine of them could pull and another three push from behind. Only Nerulf was unable to assist, but no one thought that he would help in any case, since the cart carried no property of his own. The children bade farewell to Arbogast Hall and set off along the brown brick road. The day was fresh; the wind herded a hundred clouds from the Atlantic high across the forest. The children pulled and pushed with a will and the cart trundled along the brick road at a good rate, while Nerulf ran at best speed behind in the dust. At noon the party stopped to dine on bread, meat and heavy brown beer, then continued north and east.

During the late afternoon the road entered a clearing, grown over with rank grass and a half-dozen crippled apple trees. To one side stood a small ruined abbey, built by Christian missionaries of the first fervent wave. Though the roof had fallen in, the structure offered at least the semblance of shelter. The children built a fire and made a meal of withered apples, bread and cheese, with cress and water from a nearby stream. They made beds of grass and rested gratefully after the labors of the day. All were happy and confident; luck seemed to have turned their way.

The night passed without incident. In the morning the group prepared to set off along the road. Nerulf approached Dhrun, head bowed and hands clasped across his chest. "Sir Dhrun, let me say that the punishment you have visited upon me was well-deserved. I never realized my arrogance until I was forced to do so. But now my faults have been revealed to me in sharpest detail. I believe that I have learned my lesson and that I am a new person, decent and honorable. Therefore, 1 ask that you restore me to my natural condition, so that I may push the cart. I want none of the treasure; I deserve none, but I want to help the others arrive to safety with their valuables. If you see fit not to grant my reqruest; I shall understand and harbor no ill feelings. After all, the fault was mine alone. Still, I am heartily tired of running full speed all day in the dust, tripping over pebbles, fearful of drowning in puddles. What will you tell me, Sir Dhrun?"

Dhrun listened without sympathy. "Wait until we reach civilized safety; then I'll restore you to size."

"Ah, Sir Dhrun, do you not trust me?" cried Nerulf. "In that case, let us part company here and now, since I cannot survive another day of running and bounding behind the cart. Proceed along the road to the great Murmeil and follow its banks to Gehadion Towers.

The best of luck to all of you! I will follow at my own pace."

Nerulf wiped his eyes with a dirty knuckle. "Sometime you may be sauntering through a carnival in your fine clothes and chance to notice a manikin beating a drum or performing ludicrous antics; if so, please spare the poor fellow a penny as it might be your old companion Nerulf—if of course I survive the beasts of Tantrevalles."

Dhrun considered a long moment. "You have truly repented of your past conduct?"

"I despise myself!" cried Nerulf. "I look back upon the old Nerulf with disdain!"

"In that case there is no point in prolonging your punishment."

Dhrun poured a drop from the green bottle into a cup of water.

"Drink this, resume your proper condition, become a true comrade to the rest of us, and perhaps you will profit in the end."

"Thank you, Sir Dhrun!" Nerulf drank the potion, and expanded to become his old burly self. Quick as a wink he leapt upon Dhrun, threw him to the ground, tore away his sword Dassenach and buckled it around his own thick waist. Then he took the green bottle and the purple bottle and flung them against a stone, so that they shattered and all their contents were lost. "There will be no more of that foolishness," declared Nerulf. "I am the largest and strongest, and once again I am in power." He kicked Dhrun. "To your feet!"

"You told me that you had repented your old ways!" cried Dhrun indignantly.

"True! I was not severe enough. I allowed too much ease. Things will now be different. Out to the cart, everyone!"

The frightened children gathered at the cart and waited while Nerulf cut an alder switch and tied three cords to the end, to make a crude but serviceable whip.

"Line up!" barked Nerulf. "Quick then! Pode, Daffin, do you taunt me? Would you care to taste the whip? Silence! All attend my words with great care; they will not be repeated.

"First, I am your master, and you live by my command.

"Second, the treasure is mine. Every gem, every coin, every last tittle and scrap.

"Third, our destination is Cluggach in Godelia. The Celts ask far fewer questions than the Dauts, and interfere not at all in anyone's business.

"Fourth"—here Nerulf paused and smiled unpleasantly— "when I was helpless you took up sticks and beat me. I recall each and every blow, and if those who struck me now find their skins tingling, the premonition is sound. Bare bottoms will turn to the sky!

Switches will whistle and welts will appear!

"That is all I wish to say, but I will gladly answer questions."

No one spoke, though a morose thought passed through Dhrun's mind: seven years had barely started, but already bad luck had struck with vindictive force.

"Then take your places at the cart!"

"Today we move fast; our style is brisk! Not like yesterday when you eased and ambled." Nerulf climbed aboard the cart and made himself comfortable. "Be away! Smartly! Heads back, heels in the air!" He cracked the whip. "Pode! Less pumping of the elbows.

Daffin! Open your eyes; you'll have us all in the ditch! Dhrun, more gracefully, show us a fine smart stride! And off we go through the beautiful morning, and it's a happy time for all!...

Here now! Why the slackening? You girls especially, you're running like hens!"

"We're tired," gasped Glyneth.

"So soon? Well, perhaps I overestimated your strength, as it seems so easy from here. And you in particular; I don't want you too limp, as tonight I shall put you to another kind of exertion. Ha ha! Pleasure for him who holds the whip! Forward once more, at half-speed."

Dhrun took occasion to whisper to Glyneth: "Don't worry; he won't harm you. Mine is a magic sword and comes to my command. At the proper time I will call it to my hand and hold him helpless."

Glyneth nodded despondently.

During the middle afternoon the road rose into a line of low hills and the children failed against the weight of cart, treasure and Nerulf. First using his whip, then dismounting, and finally helping to push, Nerulf assisted in bringing the cart to the high ridge. A short but steep stretch of road intervened between the cart and the shores of Lake Lingolen. Nerulf cut down a forty-foot pine tree with Dhrun's sword and tied it as a drag to the rear of the cart and the slope was negotiated safely.

They found themselves on a marshy margin between lake and the dark hills, upon which the sun was declining.

Up from the marsh thrust a number of islands; one of them served as refuge for a gang of bandits. Their lookouts had already taken note of the cart; now they sprang from ambush. The children, for an instant paralyzed, fled in all directions. As soon as the bandits discovered the nature of their booty they gave up all thought of pursuit.

Dhrun and Glyneth fled together, along the road to the east. They ran until their chests hurt and cramps bound their legs; then they threw themselves into the tall grass beside the road to rest.

An instant later another fugitive flung himself down beside them: Nerulf.

Dhrun sighed. "Seven years bad luck: will it always be this bad?"

"Stop that insolence!" hissed Nerulf. "I am still in command, in case you are uncertain. Now stand up!"

"What for? I'm tired."

"No matter. My great treasure has been lost; still, it's just possible that a few gems are hidden about your person. On your feet! You too, Glyneth!"

Dhrun and Glyneth rose slowly. In Dhrun's pouch Nerulf discovered the old purse and turned it out into his hand. He grunted in disgust. "A crown, a florin, a penny: just barely better than nothing." He cast the old purse to the ground. With quiet dignity Dhrun picked it up and restored it to his pouch.

Nerulf searched Glyneth's person, his hands lingering along the contours of her fresh young body, but he found no objects of value. "Well, let's go on for a bit; perhaps we'll find shelter for the night."

The three walked along the road, watching over their shoulders for signs of pursuit, but none appeared. The woodland became extremely heavy and dark; the three, despite fatigue, moved along the road at good speed, and presently emerged once again on open lands beside the marsh.

The setting sun shone from beyond the hills along the underside of clouds sailing across the lake; they cast an unreal dark golden light over the marsh.

Nerulf noticed a small promontory, almost an island, protruding fifty yards into the marsh, with a weeping-willow tree at its highest point. Nerulf turned upon Dhrun a look of lowering menace.

"Glyneth and I will spend the night here," he announced. "You go elsewhere, starting now, and never come back. And consider yourself lucky, since I have you to thank for my beatings. Go!"

With that he went to the edge of the marsh and using Dhrun's sword began to cut rushes for a bed.

Dhrun went off a few yards, and stopped to think. He could recover Dassenach at any time, but to no great effect. Nerulf could run away until he found a weapon: large stones, a long cudgel, or he could merely step behind a tree and challenge Dhrun to come at him. In all cases Nerulf, with his size and strength could overpower Dhrun and kill him if so he chose.

Nerulf, looking up, saw Dhrun and cried out: "Did I not order you to go?" He made a run at Dhrun, who quickly retreated into the dense woods. Here he found a dead branch and broke it to make a stout cudgel four feet long. Then he returned to the marsh.

Nerulf had waded out to where the reeds grew thick and soft. Dhrun signaled to Glyneth. She ran to join him and Dhrun gave her quick instructions.

Nerulf looked up and saw the two standing together. He called out to Dhrun: "What are you doing here? I told you to leave and never return! You disobeyed me and I now sentence you to death."

Glyneth saw something rise from the marsh behind Nerulf. She shrieked and pointed her finger.

Nerulf uttered a scornful laugh. "Do you think you can fool me with that old trick? I am somewhat more—" He felt a soft touch on his arm and looking down saw a long-fingered gray hand with knobby knuckles and a clammy skin. Nerulf stood rigid; then, as if forced against his will, he looked around, to discover himself face to face with a heceptor. He uttered a strangled yell and staggering backward flourished the sword Dassenach, with which he had been cutting reeds.

Dhrun and Glyneth fled away from the lakeshore to the road, where they halted and looked back.

Out on the marsh Nerulf backed slowly away from the advancing heceptor who menaced him with arms on high, hands and fingers angled downwards. Nerulf tried to make play with the sword and pierced the heceptor's shoulder, to elicit a hiss of sad reproach.

The time had come. Dhrun called: "Dassenach! To me!"

The sword jerked from Nerulf's fingers and flew across the marsh to Dhrun's hand. Somberly he tucked it into its scabbard. The heceptor lurched forward, enfolded Nerulf and bore him screaming down into the muck.

With darkness upon them and the stars appearing in profusion, Dhrun and Glyneth climbed to the top of a grassy knoll a few yards from the road. They gathered armfuls of grass, made a pleasant bed and stretched out their weary bodies. For half an hour they watched the stars, big and softly white. Presently they became drowsy and, huddled together, slept soundly until morning.

After two comparatively uneventful days of travel, Dhrun and Glyneth arrived at a broad river, which Glyneth felt must surely be the Murmeil itself. A massive stone bridge spanned the river and here the ancient brick road came to an end.

Before setting foot on the bridge Dhrun called out three times for the toll-taker, but none showed himself and they crossed the bridge unchallenged.

Now there were three roads from which to choose. One led east along the river bank; another proceeded upstream beside the river; a third wandered away to the north, as if it had no particular destination in mind.

Dhrun and Glyneth set off to the east, and for two days followed the river through landscapes and riverscapes of wonderful beauty.

Glyneth rejoiced at the fine weather. "Think, Dhrun! If you were truly cursed with bad luck, the rain would drench our skins and there would be snow to freeze our bones!"

"I wish I could believe so."

"There's no doubt at all. And look yonder at the beautiful berries! Just in time for our lunch! Isn't that good luck?"

Dhrun was willing to be convinced. "It would seem so."

"Of course! We'll talk no more of curses." Glyneth ran to the thicket which bordered a small stream near where it tumbled down a declivity into the Murmeil.

"Wait!" cried Dhrun, "or we'll know bad luck for sure!"

He called out: "Does anyone forbid us these berries?"

There was no response and they ate their fill of ripe blackberries.

For a space they lay resting in the shade. "Now that we're almost out of the forest, it's time to make plans," said Glyneth. "Have you thought of what we should do?"

"Yes indeed. We will travel here and there and try to discover my father and mother. If I am truly a prince, then we will live in a castle and I shall insist that you be made a princess as well. You shall have fine clothes, a carriage and also another cat like Pettis."

Glyneth, laughing, kissed Dhrun's cheek. "I'd like to live in a castle. We're sure to find your father and mother, since there are not all that many princes and princesses!"

Glyneth became drowsy. Her eyelids drooped and she dozed. Dhrun, becoming restless, went to explore a path which bordered the stream. He walked a hundred feet and looked back. Glyneth still lay asleep. He walked another hundred feet, and another. The forest seemed very still; the trees rose majestically high, taller than any Dhrun had seen before, to create a luminous green canopy far overhead.

The path crossed a rocky little hummock. Dhrun, climbing up to the top, found himself overlooking a tarn shaded beneath the great trees. Five nude dryads waded in the shallows of the tarn: slender creatures with rose-pink mouths and long brown hair, small breasts, slim thighs and unutterably lovely faces. Like fairies they showed no pubic hair; like fairies they seemed made of stuff less gross than blood and meat and bone.

For a minute Dhrun stared entranced; then he took sudden fright and slowly backed away.

He was seen. Tinkling little outcries of dismay reached his ears.

Carelessly strewn along the bank, almost at Dhrun's feet, were the fillets which bound their brown hair; a mortal seizing such a fillet held the dryad in power, to serve his caprice forever, but Dhrun knew nothing of this.

One of the dryads splashed water toward Dhrun. He saw the drops rise into the air and sparkle in the sunlight, whereupon they became small golden bees, which darted into Dhrun's eyes and buzzed in circles, blotting out his sight.

Dhrun screamed in shock and fell to his knees. "Fairies, you have blinded me! I only chanced on you by mistake! Do you hear me?"

Silence. Only the sound of leaves stirring in the afternoon airs.

"Fairies!" cried Dhrun, tears running down his cheeks. "Would you blind me for so small an offense?"

Silence, definite and final.

Dhrun groped back along the trail, guided by the sound of the little stream. Halfway along the trail he met Glyneth, who, awakening and seeing no Dhrun, had come to find him. Instantly she recognized his distress and ran forward. "Dhrun! What is the trouble?"

Dhrun took a deep breath, and tried to speak in a courageous voice, which despite his efforts quavered and cracked. "I went along the trail; I saw five dryads bathing in a pool; they splashed bees into my eyes and now I can't see!" In spite of his talisman, Dhrun could barely restrain his grief.

"Oh Dhrun!" Glyneth came close. "Open your eyes wide; let me look."

Dhrun stared toward her face. "What do you see?"

Glyneth said haltingly: "Very strange! 1 see circles of golden light, one around the other, with brown in between."

"It's the bees! They've filled my eyes with buzzing and dark honey!"

"Dhrun, dearest Dhrun!" Glyneth hugged him and kissed him, and used every endearment she knew. "How could they be so wicked!"

"I know why," he said bleakly. "Seven years bad luck. I wonder what will happen next. You had better go away and leave me—"

"Dhrun! How can you say such a thing?"

"—so that if I fall in a hole, you need not fail in too."

"Never would I leave you!"

"That is foolishness. This is a terrible world, so I am discovering. It is all you can do to care for yourself, let alone me."

"But you are the one I love most in all the world! Somehow we'll survive! When the seven years is over there'll be nothing left but good luck forever!"

"But I'll be blind!" cried Dhrun, again with a quaver in his voice.

"Well, that's not sure either. Magic blinded you; magic will cure you. What do you think of that?"

"I hope that you're right." Dhrun clutched his talisman. "How grateful I am for my bravery, even though I can't be proud of it.

I suspect that I am a fearful coward at heart."

"Amulet or none, you are the brave Dhrun, and one way or another, we shall get on in the world."

Dhrun reflected a moment, then brought out his magic purse. "Best that you carry this; with my luck a crow will swoop down and carry it away."

Glyneth looked into the purse and cried out in amazement. "Nerulf emptied it; now I see gold and silver and copper!"

"It is a magic purse, and we never need fear poverty, so long as the purse is safe."

Glyneth tucked the purse into her bodice. "I'll be as careful as careful can be." She looked up the trail. "Perhaps I should go to the pool and tell the dryads what a terrible mistake they made..."

"You'd never find them. They are as heartless as fairies, or worse. They might even do mischief on you. Let's leave this place."

Late in the afternoon they came upon the ruins of a Christian chapel, constructed by a missionary now long forgotten. To the side grew a plum tree and a quince tree, both heavy with fruit.

The plums were ripe; the quince, though of a fine color, tasted acrid and bitter. Glyneth picked a gallon of plums, upon which they made a somewhat meager supper. Glyneth piled up grass for a soft bed among the toppled stones, while Dhrun sat staring out across the river.

"I think the forest is thinning," Glyneth told Dhrun. "It won't be long before we're safe among civilized folk. Then we'll have bread and meat to eat, milk to drink, and beds to sleep in."

Sunset flared over the Forest of Tantrevalles, then faded to dusk.

Dhrun and Glyneth went to their bed; they became drowsy and slept.

Somewhat before midnight the half-moon rose, cast a reflection on the river, and shone in Glyneth's face, awakening her. She lay warm and drowsy, listening to the crickets and frogs... A far drumming sound caught her ear. It grew louder, and with it the jingle of chain and the squeak of saddle-leather. Glyneth raised up on her elbow, to see a dozen horsemen come pounding along the river road. They crouched low in their saddles with cloaks flapping behind; moonlight illuminated their antique gear and black leather helmets with flaring ear-pieces. One of the riders, head almost into his horse's mane, turned to look toward Glyneth.

Moonlight shone into his pallid face; then the ghostly cavalcade was away. The drumming died into the distance and was gone.

Glyneth sank back into the grass and at last slept.

At dawn Glyneth roused herself quietly and tried to strike a hot spark from a piece of flint she had found, and so to blow up a fire, but met no success.

Dhrun awoke. He gave a startled cry, which he quickly stifled.

Then after a moment he said: "It's not a dream after all."

Glyneth looked in Dhrun's eyes. "I still see the golden circles."

She kissed Dhrun. "But don't brood, we'll find some way to cure you. Remember what I said yesterday? Magic gives, magic takes."

"I'm sure that you are right." Dhrun's voice was hollow. "In any case, there's no help for it." He rose to his feet and almost immediately tripped on a root and fell. Throwing out his arms, he caught the chain where hung his amulet and sent both chain and amulet flying.

Glyneth came on the run. "Are you hurt? Oh, your poor knee, it's all bleeding from the sharp stone!"

"Never mind the knee," croaked Dhrun. "I've lost my talisman; I broke the chain and now it's gone!"

"It won't run away," said Glyneth in a practical voice. "First I'll bandage your knee and then I'll find your talisman."

She tore a strip from her petticoat and washed the scratch with water from a little spring. "We'll just let that dry, then I'll wrap it nicely in a bandage and you'll be as frisky as ever."

"Glyneth, find my talisman, please! It's something which must not be put off. Suppose a mouse drags it away?"

"It would become the bravest of mice! The cats and owls would turn tail and flee." She patted Dhrun's cheek. "But I'll find it now...

It must have gone in this direction." She dropped to her hands and knees, and looked here and there. Almost at once she saw the amulet. As luck would have it, the cabochon had fallen hard; against a stone and had shattered into a dozen pieces.

"Do you see it?" asked Dhrun anxiously.

"I think it's in this clump of grass." Glyneth found a small smooth pebble and pressed it into the setting. With the edge of a larger stone, she pushed down the flange, so as to secure the pebble in place. "Here it is in the grass! Let me fix the chain."

She bent the twisted link back into alignment and hung the amulet around Dhrun's neck, to his great relief. "There you are, as good as new."

The two breakfasted on plums and continued along beside the river.

The forest straggled out to become a parkland of copses separated by meadows of long grasses waving in the wind. They came upon a deserted hut, shelter for those herdsmen who dared forage their flocks so close to the wolves, griswolds and bears of the forest.

Another mile, and another, and they came to a pleasant two-story stone cottage, with flower boxes under the upper windows. A stone fence surrounded a garden of forget-me-not wallflower, pansies and angel's pincushion. A pair of chimneys at either gable supported chimney pots high above the fresh clean thatch. Further along the road could be seen a village of gray stone cottages huddled in a swale. A crone in black gown and white apron weeded the garden.

She paused to watch Dhrun and Glyneth approach, then gave her head a shake and returned to work.

As Glyneth and Dhrun neared the gate a plump and pretty woman of mature years stepped out upon the little porch. "Well then, children, what are you doing so far from home?"

Glyneth answered: "I'm afraid, mistress, that we're vagabonds. We have neither home nor family."

In surprise the woman looked back up the way the two had come.

"But this road leads nowhere!"

"We've just come through the Forest of Tantrevalles."

"Then you bear charmed lives! What are your names? You may call me Dame Melissa."

"I am Glyneth and this is Dhrun. The fairies sent bees into his eyes and now he can't see."

"Ah! A pity! They are often cruel! Come here, Dhrun, let me see your eyes."

Dhrun stepped forward and Dame Melissa studied the concentric rings of gold and amber. "I know one or two trifles of magic, but not so much as a true witch, and I can do nothing for you."

"Perhaps you would sell us a bite of bread and cheese," Glyneth suggested. "We've eaten only plums today and yesterday."

"Of course, and you need not think of payment. Didas? Where are you? We have a pair of hungry children here! Bring milk and butter and cheese from the dairy. Come in, dears. Go back to the kitchen and I think we can find something nice."

When Dhrun and Glyneth had seated themselves at the scrubbed wooden table, Dame Melissa served them first bread and a rich soup of mutton and barley, then a tasty dish of chicken cooked with saffron and walnuts, and finally cheese and juicy green grapes.

Dame Melissa sat to the side sipping a tea brewed from the leaves of lemon verbena and smiled to watch them eat. "I see that you are both healthy young persons," she said. "Are you brother and sister?"

"It amounts to that," said Glyneth. "But in truth we're not related. We've both suffered troubles and we think ourselves lucky to be together, since neither of us has anyone else."

Dame Melissa said soothingly: "You're now in Far Dahaut, out of the dreadful forest, and I'm sure things will go better for you."

"I hope so. We can't thank you enough for the wonderful dinner, but we mustn't intrude upon you. If you'll excuse us, we'll be on our way."

"Whyever so soon? It's afternoon. I'm sure you're tired. There's a nice room for Glyneth just above, and a good bed in the garret for Dhrun. You shall have a supper of bread and milk and a sweet-cake or two, then you may eat apples before the fire and tell me your adventures. Then tomorrow, when you're well rested, you'll be on your way."

Glyneth hesitated and looked at Dhrun.

"Do stay," pleaded Dame Melissa. "Sometimes it's lonely here with no one but crotchety old Didas."

"I don't mind," said Dhrun. "Perhaps you can tell us where to find a powerful magician, to draw the bees from my eyes."

"I'll give the matter thought, and I'll ask Didas as well; she knows a bit of everything."

Glyneth sighed. "I'm afraid you'll spoil us. Vagabonds are not supposed to trouble over good food and soft beds."

"Just one night, then a good breakfast, and you can be on your way."

"Then we thank you again for your kindness."

"Not at all. It gives me pleasure to see such pretty children enjoying my house. I ask only that you do not molest Dame Didas.

She is very old, and a trifle crabbed—even, I am sorry to say, a bit eery. But if you leave her be, she will not trouble you."

"Naturally, we will treat her with all politeness."

"Thank you, my dear. Now, why do you not go outside and enjoy the flower garden until supper time?"

"Thank you, Dame Melissa."

The two went out into the garden, where Glyneth led Dhrun from flower to flower, that he might find pleasure in the fragrance.

After an hour of going from plant to plant, sniffing and smelling, Dhrun became bored and stretched out on a patch of lawn, to doze in the sunshine, while Glyneth went to puzzle out the mystery of a sun dial.

Someone gestured from the side of the cottage; looking around, Glyneth saw Dame Didas, who instantly signaled her first to caution and silence, then beckoned her to come.

Glyneth slowly approached Dame Didas, in a fever of impatience, signaled her to haste. Glyneth moved forward more quickly.

Dame Didas asked, "What did Dame Melissa tell you about me?"

Glyneth hesitated, then spoke out bravely. "She said not to bother you; that you were very old and often irritable, or even a little, well, unpredictable."

Dame Didas gave a dry chuckle. "As for that, you'll have a chance to judge for yourself. In the meanwhile—now heed me, girl, heed me!—drink no milk with your supper. I will call to Dame Melissa; while she is distracted pour the milk into the sink, then pretend to have finished. After supper say that you are very tired and would like to go to bed. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Dame Didas."

"Disregard me to your peril! Tonight, when the house is quiet, and Dame Melissa has gone to her workroom, I'll explain. Will you heed me?"

"Yes, Dame Didas. If I may say so, you seem neither crabbed nor eery."

"That's a good girl. Until tonight then. Now I must hurry back to the weeds; they grow as fast as I'm able to pull them."

The afternoon passed. At sunset Dame Melissa called them in to supper. On the kitchen table she placed a fresh crusty loaf, butter and a dish of pickled mushrooms. She had already poured mugs of milk for both Glyneth and Dhrun; there was also a milk jug if they wanted more.

"Sit down, children," said Dame Melissa. "Are your hands clean?

Good. Eat as much as you wish; and drink your milk. It is fresh and good."

"Thank you, Dame Melissa."

From the drawing room came the voice of Dame Didas. "Melissa, come at once! I want a word with you!"

"Later, Didas, later!" But Melissa rose to her feet and walked to the doorway; instantly Glyneth poured out the milk from both mugs.

She whispered to Dhrun: "Pretend to drink from the empty mug."

When Dame Melissa returned, both Glyneth and Dhrun were apparently in the act of draining the milk in their mugs.

Dame Melissa said nothing, but turned away and paid no more heed to them.

Glyneth and Dhrun ate a slice of crusty bread with butter; then Glyneth simulated a yawn. "We're both tired, Dame Melissa. If you'll excuse us, we'd like to go to bed."

"Of course! Glyneth, you may help Dhrun to his bed and you know your own room."

Glyneth, carrying a candle, took Dhrun up to the garret. Dhrun asked dubiously: "Aren't you afraid to be alone?"

"A little, but not too much."

"I'm no longer a fighter," said Dhrun wistfully. "Still, if I hear you cry out I'll be there."

Glyneth descended to her room and lay on the bed fully clothed. A

few minutes later Didas appeared. "She's in her workroom now; we have a few moments to talk. To start, let me say that Dame Melissa, as she calls herself, is a dire witch. When I was fifteen years old, she gave me drugged milk to drink, then transferred herself into my body—that which she wears today. I, a fifteen-yearold girl, was housed in the body Melissa had been using: a woman about forty years old. That was twenty-five years ago. Tonight she will change my forty-year-old body for yours. You will be Dame Melissa and she will be Glyneth, only she will wield power and you will end your days as a serving woman like me. Dhrun will be put to work carrying water from the river to her orchard. She is in her workroom now preparing the magic."

"How can we stop her?" asked Glyneth in a shaking voice.

"I want to do more than stop her!" spat Didas. "I want to destroy her!"

"So do I—but how?"

"Come with me; quick now!"

Didas and Glyneth ran out to the pig-sty. A young pig lay on a sheet. "I've washed it and drugged it," said Didas. "Help me carry it upstairs."

Once in Glyneth's room they dressed the pig in a nightgown and a mob-cap, and lay it in the bed, face to the wall.

"Quick now!" whispered Didas. "She'll be on her way. Into the closet!"

They had barely shut themselves in when they heard footsteps on the stairs. Dame Melissa, wearing a pink gown and carrying a red candle in each hand, entered the room.

Above the bed a pair of censers hung from hooks; Melissa touched fire to them and, smouldering, they gave off an acrid smoke.

Melissa lay down on the bed beside the pig. She placed a black bar across her neck and the neck of the pig, then spoke an incantation: I into thee!

Thou into me!

Straitly and swiftly, let the change be!

Bezadiah!

There was a sudden startled squealing as the pig discovered itself in the undrugged body of Melissa. Didas sprang from the closet, dragged the pig to the floor, and pushing the erstwhile Melissa to the wall lay beside her. She arranged the black bar from across her neck to that of Melissa. She inhaled the smoke from the censers and uttered the incantation: I into thee!

Thou into me!

Straitly and swiftly, let the change be!

Bezadiah!

At once the pig's frightened squealing came from the body of the crone Didas. Melissa arose from the bed and spoke to Glyneth: "Be calm, child. All is done. I am once more in my own body. I have been cheated of my youth and all my young years, and who can make restitution? But help me now. First we'll take the old Didas down to the sty, where at least it will feel secure. It is a sick old body and soon will die."

"Poor pig," muttered Glyneth.

They led the creature once known as Didas down to the sty and tied her to a post. Then, returning to the bedroom, they carried out the body of the pig which was beginning to stir. Melissa tied it securely to a tree beside the cottage then drenched it with a pan of cold water.

At once the pig regained consciousness. It tried to speak, but its tongue and oral cavity made the sounds incomprehensible. It began to wail, in terror and grief.

"So there you are, witch," said the new Dame Melissa. "I don't know how I look to you through a pig's eyes, or how much you can hear through a pig's ear, but your witching days are at an end."

Next morning Glyneth awoke Dhrun with a report of the previous night's events. Dhrun felt somewhat aggrieved because of his exclusion from the affair, but held his tongue.

The legitimate Dame Melissa prepared a breakfast of fried perch fresh from the river. While Dhrun and Glyneth ate, the butcher's apprentice came to the door. "Dame Melissa, you have stock to sell?"

"True, quite true! A fine yearling sow, for which I have no need.

You'll find her tied to a tree at the back. Ignore the strange sounds it makes. I'll settle accounts with your master on my next visit into town."

"Exactly so, Dame Melissa. I noticed the animal as I arrived and it seems in prime condition. With your permission, I'll be away and about my duties." The butcher's boy departed and presently could be seen through the window, leading the squealing pig down the road.

Almost immediately after, Glyneth said politely: "I think that we also had better be on our way, as we have far to go today."

"You must do as you think best," said Dame Melissa. "There is much work to be done, otherwise I would urge you to visit with me somewhat longer. One moment." She left the room and presently returned with a gold piece for Dhru'n and another for Glyneth.

"Please do not thank me; I am overcome with joy to know once more my own body, which has been so misused."

For fear of disturbing the magic force resident in the old purse, they tucked the gold coins into the waistband of Dhrun's trousers, then, bidding Dame Melissa farewell they set off along the road.

"Now that we're safely out of the forest, we can start to make plans," said Glyneth. "First, we'll find a wise man, who'll direct us to one even wiser, who'll take us to the First Sage of the Kingdom, and he will chase the bees from your eyes. And then..."

"And then what?"

"We shall learn what we can of princes and princesses, and which might have a son named Dhrun."

"If I can survive seven years bad luck, that will be enough."

"Well then, one thing at a time. March now! Forward, step, step, step! Ahead is the village and if we can believe the signpost, its name is Wookin."

On a bench before the village inn an old man sat whittling long yellow-white curls from a length of green alder.

Glyneth approached him somewhat diffidently. "Sir, who is considered the wisest man in Wookin?"

The old man ruminated for the space required to shave two exquisitely curled shavings of alder-wood. "I will vouchsafe an honest response. Mind you now, Wookin appears placid and easy, but the Forest of Tantrevalles looms nearby. A dire witch lives a mile up the road and casts her shadow across Wookin. The next village along the way is Lumarth, at a distance of six miles. Each of these miles is dedicated to the memory of the robber who only a week ago made that mile his own, under the leadership of Janton Throatcut. Last week the six gathered to celebrate Janton's name day, and they were captured by Numinante the Thief-taker. At Threemile Crossroad you will still discover our famous and most curious landmark, old Six-at-a-Gulp. Directly north, barely outside the village, stands a set of dolmens, arranged to form the In-and-Out Maze, whose origin is unknown. In Wookin reside a vampire, a poison-eater, and a woman who converses with snakes. Wookin must be the most diverse village of Dahaut. I have survived here eighty years. Do I then need to do more than declare myself the wisest man of Wookin?"

"Sir, you would seem to be the man we seek. This boy is Prince Dhrun. Fairies sent golden bees to buzz circles in his eyes, and he is blind. Tell us who might cure him, or failing that, whom we might ask?"

"I can recommend no one near at hand. This is fairy magic and must be lifted by a fairy spell. Seek out Rhodion, king of all fairies, who wears a green hat with a red feather. Take his hat and he must do your bidding."

"How can we find King Rhodion? Truly, it is most important."

"Even the wisest man of Wookin cannot rive that riddle. He often visits the great fairs where he buys ribands and teazles and other such kickshaws. I saw him once at Tinkwood Fair, a merry old gentleman riding a goat."

Glyneth asked: "Does he always ride a goat?"

"Seldom."

"Then how does one know him? At fairs one finds merry gentlemen by the hundreds."

The old man shaved a curl from his alder switch. "There, admittedly, is the weak link in the plan," he said. "Perhaps you might better be served by a sorcerer. There is Tamurello at Faroli and Quatz by Lullwater. Tamurello will demand a toilsome service, which might require a visit to the ends of the earth: once more a flaw in the scheme. As for Quatz, he is dead. If you could by some means offer to resuscitate him, I daresay he would commit himself to almost anything."

"Perhaps so," said Glyneth in a subdued voice. "But how—"

"Tut tut! You have noticed the flaw. Still, it well may yield to clever planning. So say I, the wisest man of Wookin."

From the inn came a stern-faced matron. "Come, grandfather! It is time for your nap. Then you may sit up tonight for an hour or two, because the moon rises late."

"Good, good! We are old enemies, the moon and I," he explained to Glyneth. "The wicked moon sends rays of ice to freeze my marrow, and I take pains to avoid them. On yonder hill I plan a great moontrap, and when the moon comes walking and spying and peeping for to find my window, I'll pull the latch and then there'll be no more of my milk curdled on moony nights!"

"And high time too, eh, grandfather? Well, bid your friends goodby and come along to your nice neat's foot soup."

In silence Dhrun and Glyneth trudged away from Wookin. At last Dhrun spoke: "Much of what he said made remarkably good sense."

"So it seemed to me," said Glyneth.

Just beyond Wookin, the Murmeil River swung to the south, and the road went through a land partly wooded, partly tilled to barley, oats and cattle fodder. At intervals placid farmsteads drowsed in the shade of oaks and elms, all built of the local gray trap and thatched with straw.

Dhrun and Glyneth walked a mile, then another, meeting in all three wayfarers: a boy leading a team of horses; a drover with a herd of goats and a wandering tinker. Upon the fresh country air crept a taint, which grew stronger: first in breaths and whiffs, then in sudden and violent power, so heavy and rich that Glyneth and Dhrun stopped short in the road.

Glyneth took Dhrun's hand. "Come, we'll move quickly and so be past the sooner."

The two trotted along the road, holding their breaths against the stench. A hundred yards further they came to a crossroad, with a gallows to the side. A signboard, pointing east-west, north-south read: BLANDWALLOW: 3 TUMBY: 2 WOOKIN: 3 LUMARTH: 3

From the gallows, gaunt across the sky, dangled six dead men.

Glyneth and Dhrun hurried past, to stop short once more. On a low stump sat a tall thin man with a long thin face. He wore somber garments but went hatless; his hair, dead black and straight, clung to his narrow scalp.

Glyneth thought both the circumstances and the man somewhat sinister and would have passed along the road with no more than a polite greeting, but the man lifted a long arm to stay them.

"Please, my dears, what is the news from Wookin? My vigil is now three days old and these gentlemen died with uncommonly stiff necks."

"We heard no news, sir, save that regarding the death of six bandits, which you must know."

"Why are you waiting?" asked Dhrun, with disarming simplicity.

"Ha hwee!" The thin man contrived a thin high-pitched chuckle. "A

theory propounded by the savants asserts that every niche in the social structure, no matter how constricted, finds someone to fill it. I admit to a specialized occupation, which in fact has not so much as acquired a name. Not to put too keen an edge on it, I wait under gallows until the corpse drops, whereupon I assume possession of the clothes and valuables. I find little competition in the field; the work is dull, and I will never become wealthy, but at least it is honest, and I have time to daydream."

"Interesting," said Glyneth. "Good-day, sir."

"One moment." He appraised the still shapes above him. "I thought to have number two today for sure." He took up an implement which leaned against the gallows: a long pole with a forked end. He pressed the rope immediately above the knot and gave a vigorous shake. The cadaver hung as before. "My name, should you choose to know it, is Nahabod, and sometimes I am known as Nab the Narrow."

"Thank you, sir. And now if you don't mind, we'll be going."

"Wait! I have an observation to make which you may find interesting. Yonder, number two in order, hangs old Tonker the carpenter, who drove two nails into his mother's head: stiffnecked to the end. Notice"—he pointed with his pole, and his voice became somewhat didactic—"the purple bruise. This is usual and ordinary for the first four days. Then a crimson flush sets in, followed by this chalky pallor, and which indicates that the object is about to descend. By these signals I judged Tonker ripe.

Well, enough for today. Tonker will fall tomorrow and after him Pilbane the Dancer, who robbed along the highway for thirteen years, and would have been robbing today had not Numinante the Thief-taker discovered him asleep and Pilbane danced one last jig.

Next is Kam the farmer. A leper walked in front of his six fine milch-cows, at this very crossroads, and all six went dry. Since it is unlawful to shed a leper's blood, Kam drenched him with oil and set him ablaze. It is said the leper bounded from here to Lumarth using only fourteen strides. Numinante read the law overrigorously and now Kam dangles in mid-air. Number six on the end, is Bosco, a chef of good repute. For many years he suffered the foibles of old Lord Tremoy. One day, in a spirit of mischief, he urinated into his lordship's soup. Alas! the deed was witnessed by three pot-boys and the pastry chef. Alas! there hangs Bosco!"

Glyneth, interested in spite of herself, asked: "And the next?"

Nab the Narrow rapped the dangling feet with his pole. "This is Pirriclaw, a robber with an extraordinary set of perceptions. He could stare at a likely prospect—like this"—here Nab shot his head forward and fixed his eyes upon Dhrun—"and like this!" He turned the same penetrating glance upon Glyneth. "In that instant he was able to divine the place where his prospect carried his or her valuables, and a useful sleight it was!" Nab gave his head a shake of regretful nostalgia for the passing of so marvelous a talent.

Dhrun's hand crept to his neck, to ensure the safety of his amulet; almost without thinking Glyneth touched her bodice where she had hidden the magic purse.

Nab the Narrow, still contemplating the cadaver, seemed not to notice. "Poor Pirriclaw! Numinante took him in his prime, and now I wait for his garments—with anticipation, I may add. Pirriclaw dressed in only the best and demanded triple-stitching. He is of my general proportion, and perhaps I will wear the garments myself!"

"And what of the last corpse?"

"Him? He amounts to little. Cloth buskins, clothes thrice mended and lacking all style. This gallows is known as Six-at-a-Gulp.

Both law and custom forbid the hanging of five or four or three or two or one from the ancient beam. A fleering ne'er-do-well named Yoder Gray Ears stole eggs from under Widow Hod's black hen, and Numinante decided to make an example of him, and also make a sixth for old Six-at-a-Gulp; and for the first time in his life Yoder Gray Ears served a useful purpose. He went to his death, if not a happy man, at least a person whose life has yielded a final fulfillment, and not all of us can make this claim."

Glyneth nodded dubiously. Nab's remarks were becoming a trifle too rhapsodic and she wondered if he might be amusing himself at their expense. She took Dhrun's arm. "Come along; it's still three miles to Lumarth."

"A safe three miles now that Numinante has swept so clean," said Nab the Narrow.

"One last question. Can you direct us to a fair where wise men and magicians gather?"

"Yes indeed. Thirty miles past-Lumarth is the town Hazelwood, where they mark the Druid festivals with a fair. Be there in two weeks for Lugrasad of the Druids!"

Glyneth and Dhrun proceeded along the road. A half-mile they walked, then out from behind a blackberry thicket sprang a tall thin robber. He wore a long black cloak, a black cloth over all his face, save his eyes, and a flat-crowned black hat, with an extremely broad brim. In his left hand he brandished a dagger on high.

"Stand and deliver!" he cried harshly. "Else I slit your throats from ear to ear!"

He advanced on Glyneth, plunged his hand into her bodice and seized the purse from its snug place between her breasts. Next he turned to Dhrun and flourished the dagger. "Your valuables, and with a will!"

"My valuables are no concern of yours."

"But they are! 1 declare that I own the world and all its fruits.

Whoever without leave uses my goods incurs my most furious wrath; is this not justice?"

Dhrun, bewildered, had no response; meanwhile the robber deftly lifted the amulet from his neck. "Pshaw! What is this? Well, we'll sort it out later. Go your ways now, in humility and be more careful in the future!"

Glyneth, grimly silent, and Dhrun, sobbing with rage, continued along the road. Behind them came a fleeing laugh. "Ha hwee!" Then the robber disappeared into the underbrush.

An hour later Glyneth and Dhrun arrived at the village Lumarth.

They went at once to the inn marked by the sign of the Blue Goose, where Glyneth asked where she might find Numinante the Thieftaker.

"By the whims of Fortunatus, you'll find Numinante himself in the common-room, drinking ale from a pot the size of his head."

"Thank you, sir." Glyneth entered the common-room.with caution. At other inns she had been subjected to indignities: drunken kisses, over-familiar pats on the haunch, leers and tickles. At the counter sat a man of medium size, with a look of prim sobriety, belied by the stoup from which he drank his ale.

Glyneth approached him confidently; here was no man to take liberties.

"Sir Numinante?"

"Well, lass?"

"I have a criminal act to report."

"Say on; this is my business."

"At the crossroads we met a Nahabod, or Nab the Narrow, who waited for the cadavers to drop that he might take their clothes. We talked a bit, then went our way. Not half a mile along, out from the woods jumped a robber who took all we owned."

Numinante said: "My dear, you were robbed by the great Janton Throatcut himself. Only last week I hanged high his six henchmen.

He was in the act of taking their shoes for his collection; he does not care a fig for clothes."

"But he told us of Tonker the carpenter, Bosco the chef, the two robbers Pirriclaw and I forget the other—"

"Possibly so. They ranged the countryside with Janton like a pack of wild dogs. But Janton is leaving these parts and will take his business elsewhere. Someday I will hang him as well, but— we must take these pleasures as they come."

"Can't you send out to search for him?" asked Dhrun. "He took my amulet and our purse of money."

"1 could send out," said Numinante, "but to what prpfit? He has bolt-holes everywhere. All I can do at the moment is feed you at the king's expense. Enric! Feed these children on your best. One of those fat pullets from the spit, a good slice of beef and another of suet pudding, with cider to wash it down." "At once, Sir Numinante."

Glyneth said, "One thing more, sir. As you see, Dhrun here has been blinded by the forest fairies. We have been advised to seek a magician who will set matters straight. Can you suggest someone who might help us?"

Numinante swallowed a good pint of ale. After reflection he said:

"I know of such persons, but by reputation only. In this case I cannot help you, since I have no magic, and only magicians know other magicians."

"Janton suggested that we visit the fair at Hazelwood, and press our inquiries there."

"That would seem sound advice—unless he proposes to meet you along the way and rob you yet again. I see that Enric has laid you a good meal; eat with appetite."

With sagging shoulders Dhrun and Glyneth followed Enric to the table he had set and though he had provided his best, the food lacked savor. A dozen times Glyneth opened her mouth to tell Dhrun that he had lost only an ordinary pebble, that his fairy stone had been broken to bits; as many times she closed her mouth, ashamed to admit her deception.

Enric showed them the road to Hazelwood, "It's up hill and down dale for fifteen miles, then through Wheary Woods, then across the Lanklands, up and over the Far Hills, then follow the Sham River into Hazelwood. You'll be a good four days in the going. I take it you carry no great sum of money?"

"We have two gold crowns, sir."

"Let me change one into florins and pennies and you'll have an easier time of it."

With eight silver florins and twenty copper pennies chinking in a small cloth sack, and with a single gold crown secure in the waistband of Dhrun's trousers, the two set out along the road to Hazelwood.

Four days later, hungry and footsore, Dhrun and Glyneth arrived at Hazelwood. The journey had been uneventful save for an episode late one afternoon near the village Maude. A scant half-mile short of town they heard moans emanating from the ditch at the side of the road. Running to look, they discovered a crippled old man who had wandered from the road and had fallen into a growth of burdock.

With vast effort Dhrun and Glyneth brought him to the road and assisted him into the village, where he collapsed on a bench.,

"Thank you, my dears," he said. "If dying must be done, better here than in a ditch."

"But why should you die?" asked Glyneth. "I have seen living folk in far worse case than you."

"Perhaps so, but they were surrounded by loved ones or were able to work. I have not a copper to my name and no one will hire me, and so I will die."

Glyneth took Dhrun aside. "We can't abandon him here."

Dhrun spoke in a hollow voice. "We certainly can't take him with us."

"I know. Even less could I walk away and leave him sitting here in despair."

"What do you want to do?"

"I know we can't help everyone we meet, but we can help this particular person."

"The gold crown?"

"Yes."

Wordlessly Dhrun worked the coin from his waistband and gave it to Glyneth. She took it to the old man. "This is all we can spare, but it will help you for a while."

"My blessings on you both!"

Dhrun and Glyneth continued to the inn, only to discover that all the chambers were occupied. "The loft over the stable is full of fresh hay, and you may sleep there for a penny, and if you'll help me in the kitchen for an hour or so, I'll serve you your supper."

In the kitchen Dhrun shelled peas and Glyneth scoured pots until the innkeeper rushed forward. "No more, no more! I can see my face in them now! Come, you've earned your supper."

He took them to a table in the corner of the kitchen and served them first a soup of leeks and lentils, then slices of pork roasted with apples, bread and gravy and a fresh peach apiece for dessert.

They left the kitchen by way of the common-room, where a great festivity seemed in progress. Three musicians, with drums, a flageolet and a double lute, played merry quicksteps. Looking through ranked onlookers Glyneth discovered the old cripple to whom they had given the gold coin now drunk and dancing a boisterous hornpipe with both legs flying through the air. Then he seized the serving wench and the two danced an extravagant prancing cakewalk up and down the length of the common-room, the old man with one arm around the serving wench and the other holding high a great pot of ale. Glyneth spoke to one of the bystanders: "Who is that old man? When I saw him last he appeared to be crippled."

"He is Ludolf the knave and no more crippled than you or I. He'll saunter out of town, make himself comfortable beside the road.

When a traveler passes he starts to moan in a pitiful fashion, and as like as not the traveler helps him into town. Then Ludolf blithers and sniffs and the traveler usually gives him a coin or two. Today he must have encountered a bashaw from the Indies."

Sadly Glyneth led Dhrun to the stable, and up a ladder into the loft. Here she told Dhrun of what she had seen in the common-room.

Dhrun became furious. He gritted his teeth and drew back the corners of his mouth. "I despise liars and cheaters!"

Glyneth laughed mournfully. "Dhrun, we mustn't trouble ourselves.

I won't say we've learned a lesson, because we might do the same thing again tomorrow."

"With many more precautions."

"True. But at least we need not feel ashamed of ourselves."

From Maude to Hazelwood the road took them through a varied landscape of forest and field, mountain and valley, but they encountered neither harms nor alarms, and arrived in Hazelwood at noon on the fifth day out of Lumarth. The festival had not yet commenced, but already booths, pavilions, platforms and other furniture of the fair were in the process of construction.

Glyneth, holding tight to Dhrun's hand, appraised the activity,

"It looks as if there will be more merchants than ordinary' folk.

Perhaps they'll all sell to each other. It's truly gay, with all the hammering and new bunting."

"What is that delightful smell?" asked Dhrun. "It reminds me of how hungry I am."

"About twenty yards to windward a man in a white hat is frying sausages. I agree that the smell is tantalizing—but we have only seven florins and a few odd pennies to our name, which I hope will keep us until somehow we can earn morel money."

"Is the sausage-seller doing a brisk business?"

"Not really."

"Then let's try to win him some trade."

"All very well, but how?"

"With these." Dhrun brought out his pipes.

"Very good idea." Glyneth led Dhrun close to the sausage-seller's booth. "Now play," she whispered. "Brave tunes, happy tunes, hungry tunes!"

Dhrun began to play, at first slowly and carefully, then his fingers seemed to move of themselves and fairly flew over the stops, and from the instrument came a set of lovely skirling melodies. Folk stopped to listen; they gathered around the sausageseller's stand, and many bought sausages, so that the vendor became very busy.

After a period Glyneth approached the sausage-seller. "Please, sir, may we too have sausages, since we are very hungry. After we eat, we'll play again."

"That is a good bargain from my standpoint." The sausage-seller fed them a meal of bread and fried sausages, then Dhrun played once more: jigs and jump-ups, merry wind-arounds, reels and hornpipes, to set the heels to twitching and the nose to trembling along the aroma of frying sausages, until, inside the hour, the sausage-seller had sold all his wares, whereupon Glyneth and Dhrun sidled inconspicuously away from the stand.

In the shadow of a nearby van stood a tall young man with strong wide shoulders, long legs, a long nose and clear gray eyes. Lank sand-colored hair hung to his ears, but he wore neither beard nor mustache. As Glyneth and Dhrun passed by he stepped forward and accosted them.

"I have enjoyed your music," he told Dhrun. "Where did you learn such sleight?"

"It's a gift, sir, from the fairies of Thripsey Shee. They gave me the pipes, a purse of money, an amulet of bravery and seven years'

bad luck. We've lost purse and amulet, but I still keep the pipes and the bad luck, which hangs on me like a bad smell."

"Thripsey Shee is far away, in Lyonesse. How did you arrive here?"

"We traveled through the great forest," said Glyneth. "Dhrun discovered some forest fairies; they were bathing and quite naked.

They sent magic bees into his eyes and now he can't see, until we drive the bees away."

"And how do you propose to do that?"

"We have been advised to seek out Rhodion, king of the fairies, and seize his hat, which will force him to do our bidding."

"That is sound advice as far as it goes. But first you must find King Rhodion, which is not at all simple."

"He is said to frequent fairs: a merry gentleman in a green hat," said Glyneth. "That is something to start on."

"Yes indeed... Look! There goes one now! And here comes another!"

Glyneth said dubiously: "I don't think either of them is King Rhodion, certainly not the drunken man, even though he is the merrier of the two. In any case, we have other advice: to ask the aid of an arch-magician."

"Again the advice is easier spoken than acted upon. The magicians take pains to isolate themselves from what otherwise would be an endless stream of supplicants." Looking from one somber face to the other, he said: "Still, there may be a way to avoid these difficulties. Let me introduce myself. I am Doctor Fidelius. I travel Dahaut in this van which is drawn by two miraculous horses.

The placard on the side explains my business."

Glyneth read: DOCTOR FIDELIUS

Grand gnostic, seer, magician.

HEALER OF SORE KNEES

... Mysteries analyzed and resolved: incantations uttered in known and unknown languages. ... Dealer in analgesics, salves, roborants and despumatics.

... Tinctures to relieve nausea, itch, ache, gripe, scurf, buboes, canker.

SORE KNEES A SPECIALTY

Glyneth, looking back to Doctor Fidelius, asked tentatively: "Are you truly a magician?"

"Indeed I am," said Doctor Fidelius. "Watch this coin! I hold it in my hand, then presto and hey-nonny-no! Where does the coin go?"

"Into your other hand."

"No. It is here on your shoulder. And look! Here is another on your other shoulder! What do you say to that!"

"Marvelous! Can you cure Dhrun's eyes?"

Doctor Fidelius shook his head. "But I know a magician who can and who, so I believe, will."

"Wonderful! Will you take us to him?"

Doctor Fidelius again shook his head. "Not now. I have urgent business in Dahaut which must be done. Then I will visit Murgen the magician."

Dhrun asked: "Could we find this magician without your help?"

"Never. The road is long and dangerous and he guards his privacy well."

Glyneth asked diffidently: "Is your business in Dahaut likely to take a very long time?"

"That is hard to say. Sooner or later a certain man will visit my van, and then..."

"'And then'?"

"I expect that we will visit Murgen the magician. Meanwhile you shall join my company. Dhrun shall play the pipes to attract customers, Glyneth will sell salves, powders and lucky charms, and I will watch the crowds."

"That is very generous of you," said Glyneth, "but neither Dhrun nor I have skill in medicine."

"No matter! I am a mountebank! My medicines are useless, but I sell them cheap and usually they work as well as if prescribed by Hyrcomus Galienus himself. Dismiss your qualms, if you have any.

The profits are not large but always we will eat good food and drink good wine, and when the rain falls we shall be snug inside the van."

Dhrun said glumly, "I carry a fairy's curse of seven years' bad luck. It may well infect you and your undertakings."

Glyneth explained: "Dhrun lived most of his life in a fairy castle until they cast him out with the curse on his head."

Dhrun said: "It was the imp Falael, who brought it down on me, just as I departed the shee. I would reflect it back on him if only I could."

"The curse must be lifted," declared Doctor Fidelius. "Perhaps we should watch for King Rhodion after all. If you are playing the fairy pipes he'll be sure to step up close to listen!"

"Then what?" asked Glyneth.

"You must seize his hat. He will roar and bluster, but in the end he will do your bidding."

Glyneth frowningly considered the program. "It seems rather rude to steal the hat of an utter stranger," she said. "If I made a mistake, the gentleman will no doubt roar and bluster, and then chase me and catch me and give me a fine beating."

Doctor Fidelius agreed. "Of course that is possible. As I pointed out, many merry gentlemen wear green hats. Still, King Rhodion can be known by three signs. First, his ears show no lobes and are pointed at the top. Second, his feet are long and narrow, with long fairy toes. Third, his fingers are webbed like frog's feet and show green fingernails. Also, so it is said, when you stand close beside him, he gives off a waft, not of sweat and garlic, but of saffron and willow-catkins. So, Glyneth, you must be ever on the alert. I will also be watching, and between us we may well capture Rhodion's hat."

Glyneth hugged Dhrun and kissed his cheek. "Do you hear that? You must play your best and sooner or later King Rhodion will wander by. Then it's off and away with seven years bad luck."

"Only good luck will bring him past. So I have seven years to wait. By then I'll be old and crippled."

"Dhrun, you are ridiculous! Good music always defeats bad luck, and never forget it!"

"I endorse that view!" said Doctor Fidelius. "Come with me now, both of you. We have a few changes to make."

Doctor Fidelius took the two children to a merchant dealing in fine shoes and garments. At the sight of Dhrun and Glyneth he threw his hands into the air. "Into the back room with you."

Servants set out tubs of warm water and sweet-scented Byzantine soap. Dhrun and Glyneth disrobed and washed away the grime and grit of travel. The servants brought them towels and chemises of linen, then they were dressed in handsome new garments: blue trousers, a white shirt and a nutmeg-buff tunic for Dhrun; a frock of pale green lawn for Glyneth and a dark green ribbon for her hair. Other garments were packed into a case and sent back to the van.

Doctor Fidelius surveyed the two with approval. "Where are the two ragamuffins? We have here a gallant prince and a beautiful princess!"

Glyneth laughed. "My father was only a squire of town Throckshaw in Ulfland, but Dhrun's father is a prince and his mother a princess."

Doctor Fidelius' interest was aroused. "Who told you this?" he asked Dhrun.

"The fairies."

Doctor Fidelius spoke slowly: "If this is true, as well it may be, you are a very important person. Your mother may have been Suldrun, Princess of Lyonesse. I am sorry to say that she is dead."

"And my father?"

"I know nothing of him. He is rather a mysterious figure."