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heceptors will rise from the slime. In the gully nearby lives the troll
Mangeon; avoid him as well. Do not fare west along
Munkins Road; you would come to Castle Doldil, the seat of three-headed Throop
the ogre. He has caged many a brave knight and devoured many more, perhaps
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including gallant Sir Pellinore.
And where shall we sleep by night?
Accept no hospitality! It will cost you dear! Take this kerchief. Twisk gave
Madouc a square of pink and white silk. At sundown place it upon the turf and
call out Aroisus! It will become a pavilion for both safety and comfort. In
the morning, call out: Deplectus! and the pavilion will again become a
kerchief. And now-
Wait! Where is the way to Idilra Post?
You must cross the meadow and pass under the tall ash tree. As you go, pay no
heed to the festival! Taste no wine; eat no fairy-cake; tap not so much as
your toe to fairy music! Beside the ash tree Wamble Way leads to the north;
after twelve miles, you will come to the crossing with
Munkins Road, and here stands Idilra Post, where I suffered my many trials.
Madouc spoke soothingly: It was, on the whole, a lucky occasion, since, as a
consequence, I am here to gladden your heart!
Twisk could not restrain a smile. At times you can be quite appealing, with
your sad blue eyes and strange little face! Good bye then, and take care!
Madouc, Sir Pom-Pom and Travante crossed Madling Meadow to the ash tree and
set out to the north along Wamble Way. When the sun sank low, Madouc placed
the kerchief upon the turf of a little glade beside the way and called out:
Aroisus! At once the kerchief became a pavilion furnished with three soft
beds and a table loaded with good food and flasks of wine and bitter ale.
During the night peculiar sounds could be heard from the forest, and on
several occasions there was the pad of heavy foot steps along Wamble Way. On
each occasion, the creature halted as it
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.txt paused to inspect the pavilion, and then, after consideration, continued
along the way and about its business.
Morning sunlight slanted through the forest to lay bright red spatters on the
pink and white silk of the pavilion. Madouc, Sir Pom-Pom and Travante arose
from their beds. Outside the pavilion dew glistened on the turf; the forest
was silent save for an occasional bird-call.
The three breakfasted at the bountiful table, then prepared to depart. Madouc
called out
Deplectus! and the pavilion collapsed to a pink and white kerchief, which
Madouc tucked into her wallet.
The three set off up Warnble Way, with both Sir Pom-Pom and Travante keeping a
careful lookout for the objects of their quest, as King Throbius had advised.
The lane skirted a tract of quaking black mud, intersected by rills of dark
water. Tussocks of reed, burdock and saw grass beds broke the surface, as well
as an occasional clump of stunted bitter willow or rotting alder. Bubbles rose
up through the slime, and from one of the larger tussocks came a croaking
voice, of unintelligible import. The three wayfarers only hastened their
steps, and without untoward incident left the morass behind.
Wamble Way veered to avoid a steep-sided hillock with a crag of black basalt
at the summit. A path paved with black cobbles led into a shadowy gulch.
Beside the path a sign, indited with characters of black and red, presented
two quatrains of doggerel for the edification of passersby:
NOTICE!
Let travellers heed! This message confides
That Mangeon the Marvellous herein resides!
When Mangeon is wrathful his enemies quail;
But friends drink his health in beakers of ale.
His visage is handsome, his address is fine;
His touch causes damsels to sigh and repine.
They beg his caress; at his parting they weep, And they murmur his name full
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