12

Dido and Captain Hughes talked their heads off all the way across the mountains.

"What a naffy idea, Cap'n. A flying machine! How in the world did you ever come to hit on it? Was that how you got out of prison? But how'd you ever make it?"

"Ahem!" he said. "As you know, I have always been interested in aerial appliances and such things; I had considered for a long time whether a device might not be constructed, by means of which, if a person were able to commence his flight from some lofty eminence—say a tower, or a mountainside—"

"But how'd you ever manage to make it in prison?"

"Very fortunately, all the facilities were to hand—materials, drawing implements, besides a skilled and willing helper. But, Miss Twite—I must delay no longer in telling you how creditable—exceedingly creditable, indeed—are the accounts of your behavior during this expedition that I have received from—"

"You had a helper in prison? Who was that, then?"

"In point of fact I had two companions during the period of my confinement. One of them, that dismal fellow Brandywinde, I found to be wholly ineffectual—a wretched milksop! But the other, the man David Llewellyn, known as Silver Taffy to his companions, though a shocking rogue in many ways, proved a most proficient assistant."

"Silver Taffy was in the jail too? Did he escape as well?"

"Why, yes. I do not know where he has got to now, however; I believe his intentions were to enter the city of Bath in disguise. He also undertook to look after poor Brandywinde—though I did wonder whether his intentions in that respect were wholly straightforward and trustworthy," said the captain, sounding a little doubtful for the first time. "We had to strap Brandywinde into his aerial floater with great care, since he had lost the power of his hands. So what use he could be to Silver Taffy I fail to see.... But is it not a capital device?" Inventor's pride swept away his doubts. "Made of silk, you see, stretched over cane struts. I shall take out a patent when I return to England; what do you think of the 'Owen Hughes Patent Aerial Floater' as a title?"

"That sounds first-rate, Cap; you'll make a fortune.... So you jumped outa the windows of the Pendragon Tower and floated away—then what happened?"

"Why, hearing from Mr. Multiple that you and King Mabon's daughter had been recaptured by Queen Ginevra—who, I am shocked to discover, is a wholly discreditable personage—I shall indite a memorandum to His Majesty's government in the strongest terms as soon as I am back aboard the Thrush—"

"You heard from Mr. Multiple?" Dido's voice almost cracked with wonder and joy. "But I thought he was dead?"

"No. I understand that he was on the point of being assassinated—some villains were about to toss him into an underground chasm—when he, very fortunately, recollected that he had a considerable quantity of diamonds about his person; by bribing his assailants with these they were persuaded to release him, and so he was enabled to make good his escape."

"Croopus! Am I pleased about that!" said Dido.

Her position was becoming very uncomfortable indeed. As they floated along the valley between the huge dark shoulders of Mount Catelonde on one side and Calabe on the other, the captain had contrived to pass a leather strap around her, under her armpits, and had buckled this to bevels on the understruts of his aerial floater, so that she was tolerably safe, but the strap cut cruelly into her shoulders. Still, the good news about Mr. Multiple made her able to disregard such discomfort with ease. She asked, "Where'd you come across Mr. Mully, then?"

"I met him in the mountains. He, it seems, had retraced his way from the cave where he was nearly murdered, purchased a peasant's llama with his last small diamond, and was journeying to Lyonesse City to inform King Mabon of the princess's recapture."

"Good old Multiple! Those diamonds came in real handy. I guess he got there too late to stop King Mabon sending back the lake; still, at least they knew about the princess. They'll be out after her by now."

"I daresay they will have encountered her by this time," said Captain Hughes. "When I met her—"

"You met her too? How in the name of Nodens did you do that?"

"If you would not keep interrupting me, Miss Twite, I might be enabled to recount a consecutive narrative," said Captain Hughes.

"Sorry, Cap! You go right on. Where'd you meet Elen? Was she all rug? Was she still riding old Lepper?"

"I was informed by Mr. Multiple," said the captain, "who had learned it by listening to the conversation of his captors, that your ultimate destination, and that of the princess, was the city of Sul, where you were to be thrown into the lake—a most disgraceful procedure; I shall write another memorandum about that to H. M. government. Since the matter appeared one of extreme urgency, I directed my course toward that location, having a very tolerable recollection of its whereabouts, due to my careful study of the map of New Cumbria."

"Yes? And then what?"

"I was steering a course northwestwards—one can direct these aerial floaters with admirable facility and precision hereabouts, owing to the abundance of volcanoes emitting convective thermal currents into the atmosphere—I daresay it may not be quite so easy in Britain," said Captain Hughes, a certain melancholy entering his voice as he recollected the scarcity of volcanoes on that island.

"You were steering northwestwards, Cap, yes? And then?"

"Why, then I observed a young lady scuddling across the countryside at a remarkably fast pace upon a snow leopard. This, as you may know, is a beast of considerable rarity and zoological interest, which, hitherto, has been believed to be resident only in the eastern hemisphere, especially in central Asia, where it is found in some profusion. Even young Mr. Darwin failed to discover its presence in these regions, so I shall take considerable pleasure in writing a report to the Royal Society—"

"You saw Elen riding on Happy Patchy? Did you talk to her?"

"Indeed yes. She, not unnaturally, was somewhat amazed at being hailed by a voice from the empyrean. And so was her mount; indeed, she had some ado in pacifying him—apparently he took me for an auroc, for which creatures, it seems, he has an intense aversion," said Captain Hughes, sounding a little ruffled as he recalled the episode. Dido chuckled; she wished she had been there to see it.

"You talked to Elen?"

"The princess of Lyonesse," replied Captain Hughes repressively, "was so good as to inform me of the practical sense and unselfishness—I may go so far as to say heroism, Miss Twite—which has distinguished your conduct; of how you planned this means of escape for her and urged her to avail herself of it. I shall certainly indite a note to H. M.—"

"Oh, bother the note! Do you suppose Elen got to Lyonesse all right and tight?"

"I should judge so," replied the captain, "since the foothills which remained for her to cross presented no particular hazards and were wholly unpopulated so far as I could judge from my aerial viewpoint. I was considerably exercised in my mind over conflicting duties at that point, I must confess; some would say that I should have escorted the princess to her father. But since she appeared perfectly capable of continuing unescorted, whereas your plight, so far as I could judge, was more perilous—"

"It was a right near squeak," agreed Dido. "I sure thought I was a goner. I'm real grateful to you, Cap'n Hughes; I'd never have thought I'd be so pleased to see you! And I'll never borrow your spyglass again without asking!"

"I beg your pardon?"

"So what's the plan now?" pursued Dido.

"Mr. Multiple also informed me—though I could hardly believe my own ears—that Holystone—that my own steward—has been acknowledged by several persons of repute, including King Mabon of Lyonesse, as the returned, or reborn, prince of these regions, Mercurius Artaius Ambrosius, and husband of Queen Ginevra of New Cumbria."

"Yes, that's so," agreed Dido sadly, wondering, however, if Captain Hughes would call the old guardian a person of repute.

"If this is so, it is certainly my duty to H. M. government to report on such a state of affairs, and discover what occurs when the personages concerned encounter one another."

"You mean, when Holystone meets the queen?"

"If a change of government is indicated," said the captain, "H. M. should know about it. After all, New Cumbria is our oldest ally."

"I daresay Mr. Holystone will go to Bath quite soon." Dido's tone was glum. She added, "But we better not get there before him, or dear knows what the queen'll do to us. I saw her a couple of days ago, Cap'n. She was in a real rum state—all trembly, and eyes like bits o' looking glass. You couldn't trust her not to fly right off the handle. The only person she seems to pay heed to is that there Bran, and he was over in Lyonesse."

"Well, I daresay that King Mabon, and Holystone—or Artaius, as I suppose one should designate him—will lose no time in sending an expeditionary force to Bath, once they are assured of the safety of the princess. I learned from the man Silver Taffy that in Lyonesse there are a large number of malcontents from the kingdom of Hy Brasil, escaped from the tyrannical regime there, who may well rally under the leadership of Holy—of Artaius. If you recall, he informed us that he was brought up in that country."

"He certainly better not go back to Bath without taking some pals with him," Dido said thoughtfully. "It's my belief that it was the witcheries of those old hags—Ettarde and the others—that made him sick when he went there before. I reckon they didn't want him back, because then the queen mightn't pay such heed to them. And when he does go back—you never know—the queen herself might take a dislike to him."

"The reality might disappoint her," agreed the captain. "Having cherished a figment in her imagination for so long—"

"What's a figment, Cap? Hey, look down there!"

They had come gliding round the shoulder of Mount Damyake, and were now floating, in icy darkness, above the stony upland saucer of plain that surrounded Bath Regis. Away in the distance Mount Catelonde glowed and coruscated; closer to hand, Mount Damask seemed to have caught the contagion, and was shooting a vertical stream of sparks up into the black heavens to join the cold, glittering stars that spread a spangled canopy there. And down below on the plain, like a reflection of the Milky Way, a brilliant procession of lights wound slowly in the direction of Bath.

"I bet that's King Mabon and Mr. Holy!" cried Dido joyfully. "Shall us go down and see?"

"We had better exercise considerable caution," said the captain. "Firstly, if they are coming from Lyonesse, they are taking a singular route; one would have assumed they would go through the Pass of Nimue and be approaching from the other direction."

"Ay, that's true."

(In fact, as they subsequently discovered, King Mabon's troop had made use of a secret smugglers' route through the silver mines, revealed to them by Bran.)

"Secondly, if we take them by surprise, they may open fire, believing us to be aurocs."

Fortunately, this misadventure did not occur; when, by the captain's skillful direction of his floater, he and Dido were hovering almost directly above the marching column, she was able to recognize the eagle standards of the Wandesborough Frontier Patrol, and she hailed them shrilly from overhead:

"Hey, Sextus Lucius Trevelyan! Have you got Mr. Holystone with you? I mean King Artaius? And the folk from the Thrush?"

Some natural surprise was caused by a voice apparently addressing them from heaven, and the more superstitious soldiers in Captain Trevelyan's troop fell flat on their stomachs. But Captain Hughes was now low enough to recognize the familiar face of Lieutenant Windward, riding with Mr. Multiple in the rear of the advance guard, and so he brought his floater to the ground, exclaiming briskly, "There you are, then, Windward! I'm devilish glad to see you again, sir! I have with me Miss Twite, who, I am pleased to say, I have been able to extricate from captivity."

The whole procession came to a halt amid cries of joyful recognition and congratulation.

"Miss Twite! Dido! Thank God you are safe. Who would have thought of encountering you here! Bless my soul, missie, we thought you was at Kingdom Come!" (That was Noah Gusset.) "Gadzooks, Miss Twite, I am delighted to find you at liberty—and Captain Hughes too!" (That was Lieutenant Windward.) Mr. Multiple fairly hugged Dido in his joy and relief.

"I'm real sorry about the diamonds," she whispered to him.

"Oh, never mind it! The princess got back safe to her father—here she comes now, in fact!"

King Mabon, riding in the rear, had sent forward to learn the cause of the stoppage, and, being informed what it was, now hurried forward with his daughter and Mr. Holystone. They were all mounted on Patagonian ponies, but Dido observed that Hapiypacha (whose devotion to the princess had apparently remained unimpaired despite being ridden by her across country) kept close at the heels of her pony, causing the latter no little uneasiness, and snarling if anyone chanced to come what he considered unsuitably near to his mistress.

King Mabon hopped off his pony and came to give Dido an unaffected hug. So did his daughter.

"Oh, I was so wretched about you!" said Elen. "All the way over the mountains I was thinking I should never, never have let you persuade me—"

"Anything you want, child, in the kingdom of Lyonesse—it's yours, indeed to goodness," said King Mabon.

"Oh, it weren't nothing," said Dido gruffly. "Arter all, what else was there to do?"

Mr. Holystone was standing quietly behind Elen. A whole ring of torches now surrounded the group, and in the flickering light Dido saw that he was very grandly dressed indeed in a red tunic, gold-bordered toga, sparkling diadem, and sandals with gold buckles. Caliburn hung at his side in a silver-studded scabbard. But he looked, surprisingly, much more like the old Mr. Holystone, and his voice, when he spoke, confirmed this.

"I am very happy to see you alive, Miss Twite. Pray, ma'am, from which tradesman do you obtain your tay?"

"Oh, Mr. Holy! You remembered me! Oh, that beats cockfighting!" Dido cried out joyfully. She was so happy that her spirits could hardly rise higher when Artaius, too, gave her a welcoming embrace and kiss on the cheek. Her delight was so profound that she thought, Now I don't care what happens.

"Well, well, well, Holyst—I mean, sir, King Artaius," Captain Hughes was saying, somewhat awkwardly. "This is a bit of a change, hey? Ahem!"

"I shall always remember, Captain, the kind treatment I received as your steward," Mr. Holystone said.

"When did your memory come back, Mr. Holy?" cried Dido. "When did it all come together?"

"Quite suddenly—about twelve hours ago. It was as if a shutter clicked open in my mind—I remembered the Thrush, and how you used to cut curls of coconut for me...."

"Some influence that had been blocking his mind was suddenly removed," said Bran, appearing with his usual unexpectedness.

"Yes, you old schoolmaster!" said Holystone, clapping him cheerfully on the back. "But what influence?"

"That we shall no doubt discover when we reach Bath."

As dawn was approaching, King Mabon now suggested that they should halt and take breakfast where they were, in order to arrive at Bath tolerably rested and refreshed, since nobody had any idea what kind of reception might be waiting for them there. Accordingly fires were lit, wine was mulled, yams thrust into the embers to roast, and sausages toasted on sticks. Dido, who was ravenous after her day's solitary confinement and starvation in the city of Sul, could hardly bear to wait for the food to be ready.

"Was he very angry—the old guardian? When he found I was gone?" inquired Elen, coming to sit by Dido on a folded toga.

"That he was! Poor old Whiskers."

"When you are gone
I'll cry all day—
My tears will wash
My feet away—"

sang Bran, coming to lower himself on the ground beside the girls.

"Mister Bran—why do you think Mr. Holy got his memory back?" Dido asked.

"I expect we shall discover that one of the people attempting to prevent his return suddenly lost the power to do so."

"Why should that happen?"

Bran shrugged. "In several ways. We shall see soon enough, no doubt."

When they resumed the march, Bran rode alongside the two girls. Dido would have liked a long conversation with Mr. Holystone—there was so much she wanted to ask him!—but she could quite see that he had a lot of important affairs to discuss with King Mabon and Captain Hughes. Bits of their conversation came floating back: "Dissident elements in Hy Brasil ... abolish practice of head shrinking ... joint action to exterminate the aurocs ... improved conditions in the silver mines..."

"Bran," said Dido, "do you think Queen Ginevra will let him do all those things? I reckon she quite likes those shrunken heads."

"Who can tell?"

"I'd a thought you could. Can't you tell the future?"

"After a fashion, yes, I can. But, if you recall, I can do nothing to affect it. Only continue to remind people that free will exists."

"What's free will, Mister Bran?"

"In Bath's happy city
Where the girls are so pretty
How free was my will
As I freewheeled along
Why, even a sparrow
Can choose broad or narrow
And a man can choose daily
Between right and wrong..."

sang Bran.

"You'll never get a sensible answer out of him," said the princess. "Not when he's in this mood."

"Bran," said Dido, "how come you knew Mrs. Vavasour so well?"

The princess looked doubtfully at Bran, as if wondering how he would take such a personal question. But he answered readily enough. "Why, who should know her better than I? I was married to her for five hundred years or so—sweet Nimue! Dear Nynevie! And to show her wifely affection she threw me into an enchantment and shut me up under a stone—rather like you, Princess, but for a deal longer."

"You were married to Nynevie? Then are you sorry she's dead?"

"Of course I am. You can't be married to somebody and not have some feeling for them—however wicked they may be, or how badly they treat you."

Elen rode in silence for a long time after this exchange.

Now they were very close to Bath, approaching it from the southern aspect, over Odd Down, one of the foothills of Mount Damyake.

As they came near enough to distinguish individual objects, Dido saw that the walls of the city were lined with silent watchers; news of their approach had evidently gone ahead of them to the city. The great south gate was closed; but when they came within fifteen hundred yards of the walls, it slowly swung open.

"Humph," muttered Lieutenant Windward, who happened to be riding beside Dido at that point (she and Captain Hughes had been provided with ponies). "I don't much care for the look of Mount Catelonde. Or Damask, come to that." Great, thick, oily black piles of smoke kept knotting and piling upward from Catelonde's crater, every now and then pierced by a gush of sparks or flame; and a distinct bulge had appeared on the shoulder of Damask—"like a boil about to burst," as the lieutenant pointed out.

He went on: "I only hope the superstitious folk in Bath don't connect it with Holystone's return and decide that he's a bad halfpenny and Grandmother Sul don't want him. Or we'll all be in the basket!"

Now there was a change in the order of march.

Holystone rode out ahead on his lively black pony. The fitful sunlight (coming through immense clouds of black volcanic smoke) fetched gleams from his diadem and the hilt of Caliburn; he looked very kingly.

But Captain Hughes muttered testily, "All very well, but, bless my soul, I wonder if that's wise? It only wants one marksman with a musket—or crossbow..."

Holystone, however, rode on steadily across the stony plain, and his troop quietly followed him.

When he reached the gate, he looked up, without speaking, at the black heads of the watchers, crowded like starlings on the walls at either side.

One of King Mabon's heralds spurred forward and blew a loud blast on a bocina, then bawled resonantly through a trumpet-shaped wooden mouthpiece: "The High King, Artaius Mercurius Ambrosius, true son of Uther Ambrosius, Pendragon of Cumbria, Lyonesse, and Hy Brasil, returns in peace to his city of Bath Regis."

There was a long moment of hushed silence following this announcement; then the whole city of Bath almost lifted off the ground in deafening response. Bells clanged till the steeples rocked, muskets were discharged, bocinas clamored, horns rooted and tooted, rattles clacked, and over and above and through all the other sounds, human voices could be heard shouting joyfully, "Welcome, welcome to our Rex Quondam! God bless Mercurius Artaius! God bless King Arthur!"

Holystone was evidently much moved. He got off his pony for a moment, knelt to kiss the threshold of the gate, then, quite simply, wiped his eyes on the pony's mane. As he was about to remount, a boy, still blackened from work in the silver mines, came running to offer him a huge key, shaped like a basilisk, which was apparently the key to the city of Bath. Holystone received the key on its cushion, made some remark which set the boy laughing, then handed it back, swung himself into the saddle, and rode on up Damask Street.

It was as if no one had been sure that he was really coming; as if they could not quite believe their luck until they had the evidence of their own eyes. Now, as he rode slowly along, windows opened, and bunting hastily rolled out of them to hang in brilliant stripes down the front of the white houses; ropes flew on arrows across the streets, and trails of pennants followed; in three minutes the whole route was transformed to an avenue of dazzling colors.

By the time they had turned the corner into Ertayne Street, people had fetched out festive costumes, were running from their doors fastening red and green kerchiefs round their necks, pinning on gaudy aprons, tying streamers on their hats. Dido, looking sideways at the dancing, waving, shouting, screaming, exuberant crowds who fluttered bright handkerchiefs, blew kisses, and tossed flowers, could hardly believe that they were the same surly, scowling citizens she had encountered on her previous visit.

But there were very few children.

Now, as they turned right again and came into the big cobbled palace yard, Dido saw that as many as possible of the Thirteen Treasures of Britain had been hustled out of the museum, quickly polished up, and set on plinths: the basket, drinking horn, halter, knife, cauldron, whetstone, garment, pan, platter, chessboard, and mantle. The chariot had unfortunately fallen to pieces during its hasty removal, but the drinking horn, pan, and platter shone bravely, and somebody flung the mantle, moth-eaten but gleaming with red and gold embroidery, over the rump of Holystone's pony. He pulled out his sword and held it up in salute; it was greeted by a hushed, breathing murmur: "Caliburn! He has Caliburn!"

Somebody had also brought along the Four Ancient Creatures from the zoological garden, and there they were, blinking and yawning in wickerwork cages: the Ousel of Cilgwri, the Stag of Redynvre, the Owl of Cwm Cawlwyrd, and the Eagle of Gwern Abwy. Holystone laughed when he saw the aged creatures, and called teasingly, "Old you may be, my ancient friends, but I am older yet! Still there is work for us to do!"

Now the crowd quieted down, for in all this joyful excitement and hubbub there had been no sign from Caer Sisi, the royal palace. In fact, when Holystone turned the head of his pony in that direction, great jets of steam suddenly shot from the ground in a ring all round the palace on its island, as if to protect it from intruders.

"Dear me! That's a highly ingenious form of defense," muttered Captain Hughes, who happened to be beside Dido just then. "I must send a memorandum to the war office about it. A barricade of scalding steam—most effective. Expensive, of course ... I am not sure that it would be practicable in His Majesty King James's dominions." He added thoughtfully, "I am afraid it gives no very encouraging clue as to Queen Ginevra's intentions."

Holystone halted his pony a safe distance from the steam jets and sat regarding them. The herald came up beside him again, blew another blast on his bocina, and declaimed, "The High King Arthur, Rex Quondam et Futurus, stands here outside his palace of Caer Sisi. Who bids him welcome?"

"That's a tactful way of putting it," commented Captain Hughes.

After one revolution of the rotating palace, three people emerged from the smaller door at the top of the steps: the grand inquisitor, the vicar general, and old Mrs. Morgan.

Now the jets of steam slackened down until they were only about two feet high, and the two men, Gomez and Fluellen, picked their way forward, edging between the spouts with some care, and advanced until they were within speaking distance of Holystone.

"Are you in truth Artaius Mercurius, son of Uther Pendragon?" demanded the vicar general.

"I am!" replied Holystone.

"What proof do you give in confirmation of your statement?"

"The mark of Gwydion on my arm"—he bared it—"and the sword Caliburn in my hand."

"Under whose recognizance do you come?"

"King Mabon, ruler of Lyonesse, and Caradog, son of Caradog, guardian of the Pass of Nimue."

The two men consulted together. Mrs. Morgan went back inside the castle after a very sharp scrutiny of Holystone. Gone to tell the queen, Dido guessed.

The two officials consulted together, and Gomez announced, "It is enough! We accept your recognizance, Pendragon, son of Uther. Advance to be greeted by your loving queen!"

"So I should hope!" tartly commented Captain Hughes.

Now there ensued a long pause. Dido expected that the castle would stop spinning, that the great doors would open; but neither of these things happened. Maybe they've forgotten how to stop it, she thought to herself; or more likely the machinery's gone wrong, rusted after all this time.

Whether this was the case, or whether the queen was still doubtful of her caller's legitimacy, the castle continued to revolve. However, after several more turns (and evidently with considerable difficulty, owing to her girth and lack of mobility) Queen Ginevra herself presently emerged through the rotating door and stood at the top of the black marble steps. A throne was hastily carried to the spot by several guards. She sat down on it.

Then, in a faint, high, weary, but carrying voice, she called, "Arthur, son of Uther. Rex Quondam! Come forward and be recognized by me!"

Holystone walked forward, crossed the bridge, and mounted the steps. Under his beard he was very pale, Dido noticed. She also noticed, with some surprise, that the queen did not seem to have made any particular alteration in her garments or coiffure. She still wore the flowing white robe, like a nightdress, and the plain circlet of diamonds over her lanky hair.

Evidently Lady Ettarde had not come up to scratch in the matter of festive robes.

For that matter, where was the mistress of the wardrobe?

Glancing round, as this thought occurred to her for the first time, Dido noticed Silver Taffy not far away, edging through to the front of the crowd. He was leading somebody by the arm.

A man in the crowd near Dido could be heard to mutter, "The queen looks more like his mum than his wife, don't she?"

And a woman snappishly replied, "Well, he's been reborn and she hasn't. Some people have all the luck!"

The vicar general in ringing tones proclaimed, "Welcome, Arthur, Rex Quondam, to your faithful, devoted, loyal, and long-suffering queen Ginevra, who has waited for you these thirteen hundred years, keeping your kingdom safe for you. Great be their reward who remain faithful in adversity!"

"What hadversity did she have to put up with?" somebody murmured. "She's never gone hungry!"

Queen Ginevra's high voice was heard to exclaim, "Arthur! It really is you!" in a tone of genuine astonishment.

And he answered steadily, "Yes, it's I. Guinevere—Jenny! It's been—it was good of you to wait for me so long."

And, stepping forward, he bent down (the queen looked like a fat white dumpling beside his spare erectness) and kissed her on her broadish brow, above the pouched, poached-egg eyes, below the greasy white hair.

Dido, glancing at Elen, who was on her left-hand side, noticed that the princess looked likely to faint. She was swaying dizzily in her saddle. Leaning across, Dido grabbed her arm. "Put your head right down on your pony's neck!" she hissed.

"Why, husband, did you stay away so long?" the queen was asking in a complaining tone. "And why, when you did come back, did you go to Lyonesse first? And then come here at the head of an armed force?"

Dido did not catch Arthur's reply. Silver Taffy had come up to Captain Hughes and greeted him with a grin and a wink.

"Got back then, I see, sir! No problems? Found the young ladies, all right and tight?"

"Certainly," said the captain coolly. "And you—what have you been doing? Where have you got that poor devil Brandywinde?"

"Oh, he's here, sir—just behind me. Well, the first thing I did," he laughed cheerfully, "was to put paid to my auntie Ettarde's account. She won't sew anybody's shroud, not ever again. She lies spitted like a partridge among her tuckers and farthingales!"

"What, you wretch—" began the captain, in a tone of horror. But Taffy only laughed, and moved farther toward the front of the crowd, pulling Brandywinde behind him. The latter appeared wholly confused, as if he did not know where he was, or what he was supposed to be doing.

Meanwhile, it was plain that the reunion between the queen and her husband was not going very well. Ginevra continued to scold poor Holystone for his slowness in returning to her. He looked miserably depressed. The queen's eyes had turned to their mirror-blankness, reflecting only the patchy, smoke-flecked blue sky. At this moment Catelonde gave a loud, angry rumble.

Poor Mr. Holy, Dido thought. He just can't act loving enough toward her—who could? And that's what she can't stand—o' course she can see that he don't like her one bit. Anybody could see that. He can't help himself. Oh, why do I have to feel sorry for people all the time, however nasty they are?

"You are a very faithless, untrue, unkind husband!" Ginevra suddenly cried shrilly. "How do I know what you have been up to all these years?"

King Arthur's return to his wife was going horribly wrong.

Mabon called out angrily, "What about you, you miserable woman? I hadn't been going to say anything about it, if Gwydion was really fond of you—let bygones be bygones is my motto—but what about my daughter? What about Elen? You had her abducted—twice! You were going to murder her!"

Ginevra turned her sightless eyes in his direction.

"I had to do it," she said complainingly. "It was the will of Sul. I had to survive, for the good of the kingdom." And she repeated, "It was the will of Sul."

"Sul be blowed!"

"Oh, hush, Papa!"

Now Silver Taffy, shrewdly perceiving that the mood of the crowd was changing and turning hostile toward the queen if she was not prepared to welcome Arthur, strode out in front of the people and shouted, "Yes, and what about all our girl-children, that she said were taken by the aurocs! We all know what really happened to them! What about them, you old she-hyena?" He turned to the crowd and shouted, "She had them! She murdered them—every one!"

There was a gasp of horror from the throng.

But at this point Elen, suddenly recognizing Silver Taffy, exclaimed, "Why, but that is the man who took me prisoner for the queen—you hateful monster! Whose side are you on, you double traitor?"

Forgetting her previous faintness, she pointed an accusing finger at Taffy. And Hapiypacha, as if he had been waiting all day for this signal, launched himself like a javelin toward the pirate. Taffy went gray with terror at sight of the snow leopard bounding toward him; he spun round, wailing, and fled along Westgate Street. Hapiypacha bounded lightly after him, and in a moment the pair were out of sight; there was not the least doubt as to what would happen.

Into the silence which followed this grim occurrence came the whining voice of Mr. Brandywinde: "And what about her wickedness and witcheries? Turned my fingers to blobs of dough, she did—look, friends"—and he exhibited them. "Can't even spread bread and butter! Compensation, there ought to be, for all she done—the tongues cut out, the shrunken heads!"

"Ay, so there ought!" shouted the crowd.

Queen Ginevra looked bitterly at the sea of faces confronting her. Incomprehension and despair were on her flabby features and in her shining, sightless eyes.

"Oh!" she cried out piercingly. "How can any of you understand me? I hate you all! But"—to Holystone—"I hate you worst of all!"

Holystone said hoarsely, "Guinevere, you have been a selfish, wicked woman—an unkind shepherdess, preying on your flock. I condemn your actions, and I repudiate you!"

"Oh—you brute! It was for you! I did it for you!"

With a dreadful, raging, moaning cry, a shriek that went through the hearts of her people like a saw through tissue paper, Queen Ginevra turned from Holystone and pushed her way into the revolving door, which reached the head of the steps just at that moment.

Then a portentous thing happened.

Whether because Ginevra had purposely released some control, or by simple accident, the pace of the revolving door suddenly increased to a wild whirl. It spun madly round, with the queen inside it, so that the rotating panels could only be seen as a blur. Ginevra's scream was echoed and drowned by the eerie screech of the spinning door, and then of the castle, as it, too, began to turn more quickly.

"Sir! Come back! Make haste!" Captain Hughes shouted warningly.

Holystone glanced behind him, then leapt down the steps and across the bridge. For the steam jets were beginning to grow again; in the space of forty seconds they shot up as tall as poplar trees. The crowd wailed and stumbled and stampeded in its effort to get away before anybody was scalded. Holystone, the vicar general, and the grand inquisitor just managed to dodge between the jets while it was possible to do so, before the jets became a wall of steam.

"Er—may I perhaps suggest, Your Highness, that we adjourn to the Pump Room?" suggested the vicar general, who looked badly shaken. "I think—I do not believe it possible—that Her Mercy—"

"The poor wretched woman can't possibly have survived inside that giddy-go-round," bluntly summed up Captain Hughes. "Nor could anybody inside the castle, for the matter of that. Human frame ain't meant for that kind of usage. Unfortunate—very; but all for the best, maybe."

"I am afraid you are right, Captain," smoothly agreed the grand inquisitor. "In which case His Highness King Artaius here is next in—"

But at this moment Captain Sextus Lucius Trevelyan came elbowing his way through the crowd with an expression of deep anxiety on his clean-cut Roman features. He bowed hastily to both King Mabon and Mr. Holystone.

"Sirs—" he began. But his voice as he spoke was drowned by a horrendous rumbling roar from Mount Catelonde. The roar went on for the space of three minutes, growing louder and louder. Captain Trevelyan's lips continued to move as he tried in vain to make himself heard.

"... utmost urgency! Glaciers on Mount Damyake have begun to slip on account of the increased volcanic action," he was saying when the rumble died down at last. "The ice is approaching the city of Bath with—with considerable velocity from the east. And, as well, on the western side of the town, a torrent of molten lava is approaching with even greater speed. I think it my duty to suggest that you advise the citizens to gather up such household chattels as they quickly may, and remove themselves from the city within the space of one hour at longest. And you too, Your Majesty and my lady and Your Highness, if you please! The slopes of Mount Ambage would seem, at present, to offer a reasonably secure point of vantage."

"Leave the town?" said the quick-thinking King Mabon. "Right. Best tell the people. Have it proclaimed. You agree?" to Holystone, who nodded. "But—dear me—what about Caer Sisi? What about the queen?"

The vicar general shrugged. "Fata obstant," he said. "She is done for. We cannot help her."

Captain Hughes was heard to remark, "I daresay the same subterranean upheaval that is affecting Damyake and Catelonde had that unexpected effect on her palace."

Holystone, who had looked white, sick, and dazed since the dreadful scene with Queen Ginevra, now visibly took command of himself.

"Send the jefe here," he commanded. "We must organnize the removal of the citizens in an orderly manner, by streets, or there will be panic, and people will be injured and the gates blocked. Order the street watchmen to sound the alarm. Clear the town by all four gates, beginning with the citizens who live in the center. Appropriate all carts, carriages, and streetcars, all beasts of burden; inform the owners that these will be returned, and compensation paid...."

In a moment he was the center of a whirl of activity; he stood calmly giving orders as messengers raced in all directions.

"Come, Miss Twite—Multiple, Windward, Gusset!" said Captain Hughes. "Since we are not natives of this town we had best get ourselves out from underfoot before the headlong rush begins. The most sensible thing we can do is make for the rack railway and go back to the Thrush; we certainly do not want to be cut off here in this godforsaken spot—which is all too probable if the glacier blocks the railway track, or the station is buried in lava."

"Leave now?" cried Dido in dismay. "Without seeing what happens?"

Without saying good-bye was what she meant.

"Cap's right, you know," Lieutenant Windward said. "No sense in hanging around where we ain't needed."

Dido glanced about her, and saw Elen mounting her pony. The princess, like Holystone, looked white, appalled, and hollow eyed.

"Papa has ordered me to go back to Lyonesse with Captain Trevelyan," she said. "He thinks it best; will you come with me, Dido?"

But Dido explained that she had to return to the Thrush. The two girls hugged each other rather miserably. "Here—have this," Dido said huskily, and thrust the little diamond mirror into Elen's hand.

"You will come and see me again sometime—visit me in Lyonesse? I'll never forget what you did—never! And if—and if you should see G-Gwydion before you leave"—her voice shook a little on the name—"tell him he is always welcome at my father's palace; he knows that.... Give him my—my affection."

"I don't suppose I shall see him," said Dido bluntly. "But if I do I'll tell him. Good-bye, Elen. Take care of Hapiypacha. And—you might go and play the piano to poor old Caradog now and again."

Elen nodded, ducked her head, and kicked her pony into a trot. Hapiypacha loped after her.

"Miss Twite! Will you please come along!" shouted the captain. "Windward has ascertained that a train will start from Goodridge's Corridor station in ten minutes. We must lose no time."

"I'm a-coming, I'm a-coming," Dido said. The small English party bolted for the station.

"Never mind our luggage at the Sydney," panted Captain Hughes. "They can have it in lieu of payment—if they can carry it away in time."

The streets were jammed full of carts, pushcarts, carriages, wheelbarrows, and every kind of conveyance, all crammed with domestic goods. Dido noticed the Four Ancient Creatures, looking rather bewildered, being wheeled off on children's pushchairs. Loaded llamas gazed about them tolerantly, as if wondering why everybody was making such a commotion.

When they reached the station, they found the queer little tip-tilted train already three-quarters packed with people who were using this means to escape from the threatened city; but room was kindly made for the gringos. This time there were no seats at all; Dido squatted on the floor, feeling miserably sad, remembering the ride up. Mr. Holystone had slept all the way, but at least he had been there; and Bran had told stories....

The train gave a jerk. The engine started to shriek and shudder. But suddenly there was a disturbance on the platform; people were calling "Make way, make way!" and to the engine driver, "Don't start yet, hold your steam!" And there was Mr. Holystone. He had half a dozen men behind him, all clamoring for his attention, all asking him for instructions—but his eyes were searching through the passengers crowded together on the train.

"Couldn't let you go without bidding you good-bye, sir," he said, hurriedly wringing Captain Hughes's hand. "Thank you again for all your kindness. Tell the quartermaster to throw out the flour in the black canister, it will certainly have weevils in it by this time. Thank you for carrying me up all those plaguy mountains," he said with a grin to Multiple, Windward, and Gusset, shaking hands with each in turn. "Good-bye, Dido." He gently touched her cheek. "Don't forget how to curtsy. And remember me when you take tea—thumb and three fingers on the handle. 'We clean three tweed beads a week...'"

"Mr. Holy," gulped Dido. "I've a message for you."

She gave it.

"Thank you," he said gravely. "And listen—will you keep Dora for me? As a gift, and a remembrance?"

Dido thought.

"I'd rather not," she said after a moment. "You won't think me rude, Mr. Holy? Dora's a person. She didn't ought to be given as a present. Someone can bring her to you."

"I know what you mean," he said. "You are right. Bran will bring Dora, with Elen's cats—Bran is going to travel down with you."

"He is?" Dido's face lit up. "Oh, I am glad!" as Bran climbed in. "Good-bye, good-bye, Mr. Holy—good luck!" She hung out, blowing kisses as he hurried away.

The train started with a shriek.

"None too soon," said Bran. "Look over there." They were in the boxcar which had no glass in its windows; the visibility was excellent. Dido, following the direction of his pointing finger, was just in time to see Mount Catelonde blow its top clean off; a thousand feet of mountain vanished in a great heaving spout of flame. The huge rock that had balanced on the tip of the crater for so long bounded upward like a pea and then vanished from view.

"Blocked the Pass of Nimue, likely as not," said Bran. "If this railway is cut by the glacier there will be no way into Upper Cumbria except through the mines."

"If they ain't blocked too," said Dido. "Well, it's not much of a place, with the aurocs, and so cold, and the air so thin." And memories of Queen Ginevra and her awful end, she thought. "Maybe the folk had all better go and live in Lyonesse. Things are better there."

"Artaius is certainly going to have his work cut out for the first few years," Bran observed. "He won't have too much time to grieve for Ginevra."

"Now you don't have a steward," Dido said to Captain Hughes. "I'll do the job, if you like. I daresay I could manage; I used to help Mr. Holy a lot. I know where things are."

"Certainly not!" Captain Hughes replied disapprovingly. "You? A young lady? A passenger? That would be wholly unsuitable! No, no, I have already arranged for Brandywinde there to undertake the job. He wishes to be repatriated; he can work his passage."

"But what about his hands?"

"It seems they are on the mend."

And indeed, Mr. Brandywinde was sitting in the middle of a circle of interested auditors, waving his fingers about. "Feeling began to come back into them just like that," he was saying, "as soon as the queen rushed through that door. Oh, what respite from pain, what legerdemain, when one's fingers can do up one's buttons again! What a spasm of joy through my happy heart gambols, when a tremor of feeling returns to my fambles!"

Captain Hughes, in a corner, was busy writing up his log.

"Assistance was rendered to the Ruler of New Cumbria to reclaim the stolen lake Arianrod. The matter has been satisfactorily concluded. The water is now back in its original site, and the treaty of alliance between Great Britain and New Cumbria has been reratified...."

"Geeminy," said Mr. Multiple, hanging out the window. "Will you look at that ice?"

A high white rampart was moving across the stony plain, rubbing out cactus and sigse trees as if they were mustard and cress. But the little train dashed past just in time, within a hundred yards of the approaching glacier, and rattled down the steep descent by the Severn River and its seven majestic waterfalls.

Mr. Multiple had had the forethought to provide himself with a bagful of plantains, bananas, and chirimoya, which he kindly shared with Dido.

"You won't suddenly turn out to be King Somebody, Mr. Mully?" Dido asked him apprehensively, munching on a plantain; and he assured her that he would not.

"Didn't I tell you that it would all come right in the end?" Bran said, sitting down beside them.

"Not for poor Queen Ginevra, it didn't."

"She had had her own way for thirteen hundred years. That is long enough."

"And what'll happen to Elen?"

"She will marry Artaius later on. And they will have three children called Llyr, Penardun, and Lud Hudibras."

"Devil take it, I have left my floater behind!" suddenly exclaimed Captain Hughes, looking up from his writing. But he added, "Never mind, I will design an improved one when I am back on board the Thrush."

"Would you like me to tell you a story?" asked Bran, noticing that Dido's expression was rather sad.

"Yes. Thanks, mister. I'd like that. Just a minute, though; I want to see them again before that big wall of ice gets in the way and blocks them off."

She wriggled her way back to the window and hung out of it, looking her last at the thirteen great volcanoes, saying good-bye to them in her mind: Ambage and Arrabe, Ertayne and Elamye, Arryke, Damask, Damyake, Pounce, Pampoyle, Garesse, Galey, Calabe, and Catelonde.