"Adams, Robert - Horseclans 05 - The Savage Mountains 1.0" - читать интересную книгу автора (Adams Robert)

Geros raised his dark, troubled eyes. "I would have been more than happy with such, Pawl." His fingers toyed with the silver cat pendant on his chest. "After all, I but did what any man of the thoheek's would have done during the battle, for he is a good lord and kind. As for the other, well. .." Embarrassed, he dropped his gaze. "I still don't know why I did it, didn't really realize I was doing it until I found myself down there in the fire and the heat. But it's as I said, Pawl. The officer was hurt and everyone could see he would soon be burned alive. If I had not, another would've."

"Turkey dung!" snorted Raikuh. "I was there, Sir Geros. Remember?"

He could.

The hilltop salient had been but a trap set by the crafty leader of the rebels. The fortifications, garrisoned by suicide troops, had been undermined, supported only by oil-soaked timbers which had been secretly fired. The stratagem had failed on the twin hillock, assaulted and taken by troops under the personal command of the High Lord; his mindspeak warning had arrived barely in time for most of the Confederation forces to quit the dangerous area.

Only a single, rearguard company had been still at the periphery of the trap when it was sprung. When the dust had settled, it could be seen that but a single member of that company had survived. And he was facing a cruel, gruesome death, his legs securely pinned under a huge, smoldering timber, unable to draw his sword and his dirk missing.

Several men on the lip of the still-settling crater had attempted to throw the unfortunate officer a weapon that he might decently end his life ere the flames reached him, but the distance was too great, and Thoheeks Bili of Morguhn had sent a galloper to bring back an archer from the foot of the hilL

Geros could not recall all of the beginning, could not remember hastily shedding most of his armor or clambering down the crumbling slope of the crater. But he would never forget that heat!

It had lapped over him, enfolded him in its deadly embrace. It had savaged his flesh, set boots and clothing a-smolder, made each breath a searing agony.

After an endless eternity of gingerly picking his way over an almost limitless expanse of steaming earth, jumbled stones and splintered timbers, the officer lay just before him, thanking him for his valor, asking for his dirk and urging him to return to safety.

The few moments after that were very hazy in Geros' memory . . . but in no one else's. He recalled, however, half carrying, half dragging the young officer-Captain Lehzlee, heir to Ahrkeethoheeks Lehzlee-to where a host of willing hands assisted them both up to safety.

But from that now cursed moment, the warm and natural comradery which he had so cherished had disappeared with the suddenness of a blown-out candle flame. The hard-bitten Freefighters, who reverenced damned few things, had seemed very uncomfortable in his presence, treating him with a deference bordering upon awe. And he hated it all!

Pawl Raikuh went on, "I was there. I saw what you did . . . though, as I said, I still scarce can credit the testimony of my own eyes. That timber was hardwood, looked to be solid oak, and near two feet thick, so it couldn't have weighed less than a ton and a half, Harzburk measure, maybe two tons. Yet you raised it, man! With your bare hands, you lifted near a thousand ferfee-weight and held the damned thing long enough for the captain to inch his crushed legs from under it! In my near forty years as a Freefighter, I've seen many a wonder, but if Steel allows me that many more years, I'll never again see an equal to my lord's feat in the crater-"

"Damn it!" Sir Geros' fist crashed onto the table, setting cups and ewer to dancing. "Damn you, Pawl Raikuh! I be nobody's lord, and you know it! I'm the same man I've always been, Geros Lahvoheetos, son of Vahrohnos Luhmahnt's majordomo. My mother was an herb gardener, who harped and sang at feasts. And I, I was a gentleman's valet, who played and sang when so ordered. It was by purest chance that I found myself thrust into the role of warrior."

Raikuh grinned. "And you took to it as naturally and easily as an otter kit swims. In short months, you were one of the best swordsmen in my troop."

"Only because I realized there was no way I could wriggle out of the situation . . . easily, and being a born coward, I wanted to stay alive. And the only way a warrior can be reasonably certain he'll survive his next battle is to make himself a master of his weapons. But I am not, can never be, as you and Thoheeks Bili and those reared to the Sword. I don't like fighting and killing, Pawl. I'll never like it.

"At least, when I was simply a Freefighter, I had the solace that when the rebellion was crushed, I'd be able to return to being what I had always been. But now, since they did these unwarranted things to me, I'll be expected to swing Steel the rest of my life and to rear any sons I happen to sire to pursue like lives.

"I say again, Pawl, I am no one's lord. Rather am I a slave in detested bondage to an undeserved reputation, an unwanted title, a silver bauble and a couple of feet of sharp steel."

A feeling of fatherliness swept over the fiftyish captain. He reached across the table to pat Geros' clenched fist lightly. "Son, you'll not feel so in a year. Others have been similarly upset by the sudden grant of nobility . . . I've seen such. As for being no one's lord, that same year will put the lie to that statement, I'll warrant."

"Now what is that cryptic comment supposed to mean?" snapped Geros.

Tracing designs in a puddle of spilled wine and regarding the new noble from beneath bushy brows, Raikuh spoke slowly. "Why just this, Geros. Duke Bili is not so mean as to give a faithful man rank without maintenance. Your present title is but a military one, and as certain sure as steel cuts to bone, you'll be at least a vahrohneeskos of Morguhn-with a fine town and croplands and kine-by this time next year, mark my words. Nor be that all, I trow___"

Raising cup to lips, he took a long draught of the fine, strong wine, then continued. "That fiesty little bastard Thoheeks Hwahltuh of Vawn be proud as a solid-gold hilt, and he'll not forsake an opportunity like this. After all, he can truthfully attest that your deeds were done in his service, too, since we all are fighting on what are his lands. And don't you forget the House of Lehzlee, either. There be no richer or prouder house in the south of Karaleenos than Lehzlee, and you saved the life-at great personal risk-of the man who will one day be archduke and chief of that house. They're not likely to let such go unrewarded."

Geros' mind reeled. He had not even considered these possibilities. "But . . . but, Pawl, what will I do? I know nothing of farming."

Raikuh chuckled. "Damned few nobles do, son Geros. You'll do what they all do, of course. You'll find and hire a competent provost and a few overseers and a score or so over-age Freefighters to see the peace be kept. Then you'll spend your days riding and hunting and begetting. You'll sit in judgment in your town on market days, meet in council with your overlord and peers once each moon and ride with them once each year to the archduchy council, where you will deliver up your taxes for the previous year to the High Lord's deputy.

"And someday, Geros, when you're a fat forty-odd, and your mind is filled with worry about the weather and the crops and outfitting your sons for the army and dowering your daughters well, then . . . mayhap, then, you'll think on this eve. Think how foolishly you then thought, wished to once more be back with the Morguhn troop, swinging steel and taking blows as light-heartedly as you did twenty years before."

Ere Geros could frame an answer, his big servant, Sahndos, entered, ushering in one of Raikuh's lieutenants, Krahndahl. The junior officer slapped gauntlet to breastplate in salute and announced, "My lord Geros, captain, Duke Bili summons all his nobles and officers to his pavilion, immediately, if you please."