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Trilda, and forgot all about time. Night came and I was far from home. Shimrod
caught a mouse and changed it into a fine horse.
'Ride home at speed,' he told me. 'Do not dismount or touch the ground before
your destination, for as soon as your foot touches ground, the horse is once
more a mouse!'
"And so it was. I rode in style, to the envy of those who saw me, and I took
care to dismount behind the stable, so that none would know that I had been
riding a mouse.
"Alas! We are wasting time." He straightened up in his chair. "Now then, take
up your pen, dip ink, and inscribe me a good R, as you will need to write your
name."
"But you have not answered my question!"
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"'Do magicians know everything?' The answer is no. Now: the characters, in a
fine square hand."
"Oh Master Jaimes, today I am bored with writing. Teach me magic instead."
"Ha! If I knew magic, would I be frousting here at two florins a week? No, no,
my princess, I have better schemes in mind! I would take two fine mice and
change them to a pair of beautiful horses and I would become a handsome young
prince not much older than you, and we would go riding away over hill and
dale; to a wonderful castle in the clouds, and there we would dine; on
strawberries and cream and listen to the music of harps and fairy bells. Alas,
I know no magic. I am the wretched Master Jaimes, and you are sweet
mischievous Suldrun who won't learn I her letters."
"No," said Suldrun in sudden decision. "I'll work very hard so that I can read
and write, and do you know why? So that I may learn magic, and you need only
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learn to catch mice."
Master Jaimes uttered a queer choked laugh. He reached across the table and
took her two hands. "Suldrun, you already know I magic."
For a moment they smiled at each other, then in sudden embarrassment, Suldrun
bowed her head over her work.
The rains continued. Master Jaimes, walking abroad in the cold and wet, caught
a fever and could not teach. No one troubled to notify
Suldrun and she went down to the library to find it empty. For a time she
practiced writing, and looked through a leatherbound book brought down from
Northumbria, illuminated with exquisite depictions of saints in landscapes
wrought in vivid inks.
At last Suldrun put the book aside and went out into the hall.
The time was now mid-morning, and servants were busy in the Long
Gallery. Undermaids polished the flagstones with beeswax and lamb-
skin; a footman stalking on ten-foot stilts replenished the sconces with oil
of nenuphar. From outside the palace, muffled by the intervening walls, came
the blare of clarions, announcing the arrival of notables. Looking along the
gallery, Suldrun saw them
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three grandees, stamping and shaking the rain from their garments. Footmen
hastened forward to relieve them of their cloaks, helmets and swords. From the
side a herald raised his voice to its most resonant pitch. "From the Realm of
Dahaut, three noble personages! I declare their identities: Lenard, Duke of
Mech! Milliflor, Duke of Cadwv and Josselm! Imphal, Marquis of the Celtic
March!"
King Casmir stepped forward. "Sirs, I give you welcome to
Haidion!"
The three grandees performed a ritual genuflection, bobbing their right knees
toward the floor, rising to hold hands out from the sides with head and
shoulders still bent. The circumstances indicated an occasion of formal but
less than ceremonial import.
King Casmir returned them a gracious wave of the hand. "Sirs, for now I
suggest that you make haste to your chambers, where warm fires and dry
clothing will bring you comfort. In due course we will exchange our counsels."
Sir Milliflor responded: "Thank you, King Casmir. In truth we are wet; the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]