«Chastity, sir, is no subject for jest!» she snapped.
Before the conversation could be carried further, Shea jumped at another tremendous blast of trumpets. A file of pages pranced in with silver plates. Shea noted, there was only one plate for him and Britomart together. Looking down the table, he saw that each pair, knight and lady, had been similarly served. This was apparently one of the implications of being a knight’s «lady». Shea would have liked to inquire whether there were any others; but in. view of Britomart’s rebuff at his mild joke at Amoret, he didn’t quite dare.
* * *
The trumpets blew again, this time to usher in a file of serving men bearing trays of food. That set before Shea and Britomart was a huge pastry, elaborately made in the form of a potbellied medieval ship, upon which the page Bevis fell with a carving knife. As he worked at it, Chalmers leaned around Amoret’s back, and touching Shea’s sleeve, remarked: «Everything’s going according to plan.»
«How do you mean?»
«The logical equations. I looked at them in my room. They puzzled me a bit, at first, but I checked them against that key I made up, and everything fitted into place.»
«Then you can really work magic?»
«I’m pretty sure. I tried a little enchantment on a cat that was strolling around. Worked a spell on some feathers and gave it wings.» He chuckled. «I daresay there will be some astonishment among the birds in the forest tonight. It flew out the window.»
Shea felt a nudge at his other side, and turned to face Britomart. «Will my lord, as is his right, help himself first?» she said. She indicated the plate. Her expression plainly said she hoped any man who helped himself before her would choke on what he got. Shea surveyed her for a second.
«Not at all,» he answered. «You go first. After all, you’re a better knight than I am. You pitched Hardimour down with a spear. If you hadn’t softened him up, I couldn’t have done a thing.»
Her smile told him he had gauged her psychology correctly. «Grace,» said she. She plunged her hand into the pile of meat that had come our of the pastry ship, put a good-sized lump into her mouth. Shea followed her example. He nearly jumped out of his chair, and snatched for the wine cup in front of him.
The meat tasted like nothing on earth. It was heavily salted, and sweet, and almost all other flavours were drowned in a terrific taste of cloves. Two big tears of agony came into Shea’s eyes as he took a long pull at the wine cup.
The wine reeked of cinnamon. The rears ran down his cheek.
«Ah, good Squire Harold,» came Amoret’s voice, «I don’t wonder that you weep at the tale of the agonies through which I have passed. Was ever faithful lady so foully put upon?»
«For my part,» said the knight farther down the table, «I think this Busyrane is a vile, caitiff rogue, and willingly would I take the adventure of putting an end to him.»
Britomart gave a hard little laugh. «You won’t find that so easy, Sir Erivan. Firstly, you shall know that Busyrane dwells in the woods where the Losels breed, those most hideous creatures that are half-human in form, yet eat of human flesh. They are ill to overcome. Secondly, this Busyrane conceals his castle by arts magical, so it is hard to find. And thirdly, having found it and Busyrane himself, he is a very stout and powerful fighter, whom few can match. In all Faerie, I know of only two that might overthrow him.»
«And who are they?» asked Erivan.
«This one is Sir Cambell, who is a knight of great prowess. Moreover, he has to wife Cambina, who is much skilled in the white magic that might pass both through the Losels and Busyrane’s enchantments. The other is my own dear lord and affianced husband, Sir Artegall, justiciar to our queen.»
«There you see!» cried Amoret. «That’s the kind of person who was after me. Oh, what sufferings! Oh, how I ever —»
«
«How true, good palmer.» A tear trickled down Amoret’s lovely pale cheek as she rolled a huge ball of food between her fingers and thrust it into her mouth. As she chewed she managed to exclaim: «Oh, what would I do without the good friends who aid me!» There was certainly nothing weak about the frail-looking lady’s appetite.
* * *
Trumpets sounded the end of the course, and as one set of serving men took away the plates, another emerged with more dishes. Pages came running to each couple with metal bowls of water and towels. Sir Erivan, beyond Chalmers, lifted his wine cup and then set it down again.
«Ho, varlet!» he cried. «My wine cup is empty. Is it the custom of Caultrock to let the guests perish of thirst?»
The servitor signalled another, and a small wizened man in a fur-lined jacket hurried up and bowed to Sir Erivan.
«My very gracious lord,» he said, «I crave your pardon. But a most strange malady has befallen the wine, and it’s turned sour. All the wine in Castle Caultrock. The good Fray Montelus has pronounced an exorcism over it, but to no purpose. There must be a powerful enchantment on it.»
«What?» shouted Sir Erivan. «By the seven thousand demons of Gehenna, do you expect us to drink
«You see how it is reverend sir. Daily we knights of Faerie are compassed closer about by these evil spells till we know not what to do. I misdoubt me they will make trouble at the tournament.»
«What tournament?» asked Shea.
«The tournament of Satyrane, the woodland knight, at his forest castle, three days hence. It will be a most proud and joyous occasion. There’s to be jousting, ending with a melee, for the prize among knights and also a tourney of beauty for the ladies after. I’ve heard that the prize of beauty is to be that famous girdle of the Lady Florimel, which none but the most chaste may bind on.»
«Oh, how you frighten me!» said Amoret. «I was kidnapped from a tournament, you know. Now I shall hardly dare attend this one, if there will be enchanters present. Just think, one might win the prize of valour and I be awarded to him of right!»
«
Shea asked: «Does the winner of the men’s prize get the winner of the prize of beauty?»
Sir Erivan looked at him in some astonishment. «You are pleased to jest — No. I see you are really a foreigner and don’t know. Well, then, such is the custom of Faerie. But I misdoubt me these enchanters and their spells.» He shook his head gloomily.
Shea said: «Say, my friend Chalmers and I might be able to help you out a little.»
«In what manner?»
Chalmers was making frantic efforts to signal him to silence, but Shea ignored them. «We know a little magic of our own. Pure white magic, like that Lady Cambina you spoke of. For instance — Doc, think you could do something about the wine situation?»
«Why. ahem. that is. I suppose I might, Harold. But don’t you think —»
Shea did not wait for the objection. «If you’ll be patient,» he said, «my friend the palmer will work some of his magic. What’ll you need, Doc?»
Chalmers’ brow furrowed. «A gallon of so of water, yes. Perhaps a few drops of good wine. Some grapes and bay leaves —»
Somebody interrupted: «As well ask for the moon in a basket as grapes at Caultrock. Last week came a swarm of birds and stripped the vines bare. Enchanter’s work, by hap; they do not love us here.»
«Dear me! Would there be a cask?»
«Aye, marry, a mort o’ ’em. Rudiger, an empty cask!»
The cask was rolled down the centre of the tables. The guests buzzed as they saw the preparations. Other articles were asked and refused till there was produced a stock of cubes of crystallized honey, crude and unstandardized in shape «— but they’ll do as sugar cubes, lacking anything better,» Chalmers told Shea.
A piece of charcoal served Chalmers for a pencil. On each of the lumps of crystallized honey he marked a letter, O, C, or H. A little fire was got going on the stone floor in the centre of the tables. Chalmers dissolved some of the honey in some of the water, put the water in the cask and some of straw in the water. The remaining lumps of honey he stirred about the table top with his fingers, as though playing some private game of anagrams,
