Jack Vance - MADOUC

Madouc learned of the projected visit from several sources, but it remained for Devonet to explain the occasion in detail. "You will find Prince Brezante very attentive," said Devonet airily. "He may wish to take you somewhere alone, perhaps to his rooms, for a game of ‘sly' or ‘fiddle-de-doodle'; in this case you must be on your guard. Brezante is partial to young maidens. He may even suggest a marriage contract! In any case you should not succumb to his blandishments, since some men become bored with easy conquests."

Madouc said stiffly: "You need not fear on that account. I am interested neither in Prince Brezante nor his blandishments."

Devonet paid no heed. "Think of it! Is it not exciting? Some day you might be Queen Madouc of Blaloc!"

"I think not."

Devonet spoke reasonably: "I agree that Brezante is not the most comely of men; indeed, he is fleshy and squat, with a round belly and a big nose. Still, what of that? He is a royal prince, and you are to be envied, or so I suppose."

"You are talking sheer foolishness. I have not the slightest interest in Prince Brezante, nor he in me."

"Do not be too sure of that! You are much like his previous spouse. She was a young princess from Wales-a little wisp of a thing, naive and innocent."

Chlodys joined the conversation with eager zest. "They say that she cried constantly from both homesickness and distress! I believe that eventually she went out of her mind, poor thing. Prince Brezante was troubled not at all and bedded with her nightly, until at last she died in childbirth."

"It is a sad story," said Madouc.

"Exactly! The little princess is dead and Prince Brezante is heartsick. You must do your best to console him."

"He will surely want to kiss you," said Chlodys with a giggle. "If so, you must kiss him nicely in return; that is the way one wins a husband. Am I not right, Devonet?"

"That is one of the ways, certainly."

Madouc spoke with disdain: "Sometimes I marvel at the ideas which seep through your minds!"

"Ah well," sighed Devonet. "It is less disgraceful to think than to do."

"Although not so much fun," added Chlodys.

"Either of you, or both, are welcome to Prince Brezante," said Madouc. "He will surely find you more interesting than I."

Later in the day King Casmir met Madouc in the gallery. He was about to pass her by, eyes averted, in his usual style; instead, he stopped in his tracks. "Madouc, I want a word with you."

"Yes, Your Highness."

"Come with me." King Casmir led the way into a nearby council chamber, with Madouc lagging reluctantly six paces behind.

Casmir, smiling the smallest of grim smiles, waited by the door until Madouc entered, then closed the door and went to stand by the table. "Sit."

Madouc seated herself primly in a chair across the table from Casmir.

"I must now instruct you," said Casmir ponderously. "Listen with care and heed me well. Certain events of importance are in the offing. King Milo of Blaloc will presently be our guest, in company with Queen Caudabil and Prince Brezante. I intend to propose a contract of betrothal between you and Prince Brezante. The marriage will be joined at an appropriate time, possibly in three years. It will be an important marriage, in that it will consolidate a strong alliance with Blaloc, to counter Porn perol's tendency toward Dahaut. These are affairs of state which you will not understand, but you must believe that they are of the highest priority."

Madouc tried to think of something to say that would delicately convey her feelings and yet not enrage King Casmir. Several times she started to speak, then thought better of her remarks, and closed her mouth. At last she said, rather lamely:

"Prince Brezante may not favor such a match."

"I suspect otherwise. King Milo has already expressed interest in the arrangement. Almost certainly an announcement will be made during the royal visit. It is a good match for you, and you may consider yourself lucky. Now then, attend! Lady Vosse will instruct you in the proprieties which must be observed. I expect total decorum from you on this occasion. You may not indulge in any of your famous vapors or tantrums, at risk of my extreme displeasure. Is this quite clear?"

Madouc answered in a tremulous voice: "Yes, Your High ness, I understand your words." She drew a deep breath. "But they fly wide of the mark. It is best that you should know this now."

King Casmir started to speak, using a dangerous voice, but Madouc was quick to anticipate him. "In ordinary matters I would hope to obey you, but remember: my marriage is far more important to me than it is to you."

King Casmir bent slowly forward. Over the years dozens of frightened wretches had seen such an expression on his face before being dragged away to torment in the dungeons under the Peinhador. Casmir spoke from deep in his throat: "So you think to thwart my volition?"

Madouc spoke more carefully than ever. "There are circumstances, Your Highness, which make the plan impossible!"

"What circumstances are these?"

"First, I despise Prince Brezante. If he is so anxious to marry, let him betroth himself to Lady Vosse or Chlodys. Second, if you will recall, I am born of halfling mother and an unknown father. My pedigree is lacking; for this reason, my maidens call me ‘bastard', which I cannot deny. If King Milo knew of this, he would consider the betrothal a mockery, and an insult to his house."

King Casmir blinked and stood silent. Madouc rose to her feet and stood demurely leaning on the table. "Therefore, Your Highness, the betrothal is not possible. You must make other plans, which do not include me."

"Bah!" muttered Casmir. "All these circumstances are small fish in a big pan. Neither Milo nor Brezante need know of them! After all, who would tell them?"

"The task would fall to me," said Madouc. "It would be my duty."

"That is sheer blather!"

Madouc hurried on, her tongue almost tripping over itself. "Not so, Your Highness! I merely use the faith and candour I have learned from your noble example! Decent respect for the honour of both royal houses would compel me to admit my condition, no matter what the consequences!"

King Casmir spoke out harshly: "It means nothing; I assure you of this! To talk of honour is frivol and foolishness! If it is a pedigree you need, the heralds will contrive something suitable and I will fix it upon you by ordinance!"

Madouc smilingly shook her head. "Bad cheese stinks, no matter how thin it is sliced. Such a pedigree would be a laughable deceit. Folk would call you a black-hearted monster, as false as a stoat, ready for any lie or duplicity. Everyone would sneer and joke; I would be doubly ridiculed, and doubly demeaned, for allowing such a brazen falsity! They would further call you a-"

Casmir made a brusque gesture. "Stop! That is enough!"

Madouc said meekly: "I was only explaining why my true and very own pedigree is essential to me."

King Casmir's patience was wearing thin. "This is folly, and I quite beside the point! I do not propose to be thwarted by such paltriness! Now then-"

Madouc cried out plaintively: "The facts cannot be denied, Your Highness! I lack all pedigree."

"Then construct yourself a pedigree, or find one that you deem proper, and it shall be fixed upon you by fiat! Only be quick! Ask Spargoy the Chief Herald for help."

"I would prefer the help of someone else."

"Whoever you like! Fact or fancy, it is all one; I am indifferent to your whims. Only be quick!"

"Just so, Your Majesty. I will do as you command."

Casmir's attention was caught by a bland overtone in Madouc's response: why had she become so docile? "In the meantime, I will initiate discussions in regard to the betrothal. This must proceed!"

Madouc gave a poignant little cry of protest. "Your Highness, have I not just explained that this cannot be?"