"Alexander, Lloyd - Chronicles Of Prydain 3 - Castle Of Llyr" - читать интересную книгу автора (Alexander Lloyd)

Taran heard a loud rapping at the portal. It was Magg himself, come with the shoemaker, who stood humbly behind him.
"Not that he troubles me," Fflewddur whispered. "That is," he added, looking at the harp, "not beyond what I can honorably bear." He slung the instrument over his shoulder. "Yes, well, as I was saying, I must go and find Princess Eilonwy. We shall meet later. In the stables, if you don't mind. And I shall play my new song." Glaring at Magg, Fflewddur, strode from the chamber.
The Chief Steward, taking no notice of the bard's angry glance, bowed to Taran. "As Queen Teleria commanded, you and your companion are to be given new apparel. The shoemaker will serve you as you wish."
Taran sat down on a wooden stool and, as Magg departed from the chamber, the shoemaker drew near. The man was bent with age and garbed most shabbily. A grimy cloth was wrapped around his head and a fringe of gray hair fell almost to his shoulders. At his broad belt hung curiously shaped knives, awls, and hanks of thongs. Kneeling before Taran, he opened a great sack and thrust in his hand to pull out strips of leather, which he placed about him on the floor. He squinted at his findings, holding up one after the other, then casting it aside.
"We must use the best, the best," he croaked, in a voice much like Kaw's. "Only that will do. To go well-shod is half the journey." He chuckled. "Is that not so, eh? Is that not so, Taran of Caer Dallben?"
Taran drew back with a start. The shoemaker's tone had suddenly rung differently. He stared down at the aged man who had picked up a piece of leather and was now shaping it deftly with a crooked little knife. The shoemaker, his face as tanned as his own materials, was watching him steadily.
Gurgi looked ready to yelp loudly. The man raised a finger to his lips.
Taran, in confusion, hurriedly knelt before the shoemaker. "Lord Gwydion..."
Gwydion's eyes flashed with pleasure, but his smile was grim. "Hear me well," he said quickly, in a hushed voice. "Should we be interrupted, I shall find a way to speak with you later. Tell no one who I am. What you must know, above all, is this: the life of the Princess Eilonwy is in danger. And so," he added, "is your own."



Chapter 3
The Shoemaker

TARAN PALED. His head still whirled at seeing the Prince of Don in the guise of a shoemaker, and Gwydion's words left him all the more confused. "Our lives in danger?" he asked hurriedly. "Does Arawn of Annuvin seek us as far as Dinas Rhydnant?"
Gwydion motioned for Gurgi to stand guard at the portal and turned once more to Taran. "No," said Gwydion, with a quick shake of his head. "Though Arawn's wrath has grown to fury since the Black Cauldron was destroyed, the threat comes not from Annuvin."
Taran frowned. "Who then? There is none in Dinas Rhydnant who wishes us ill. You cannot mean that King Rhuddlum or Queen Teleria..."
"The House of Rhuddlum has always borne friendship to the Sons of Don and to our High King Math," replied Gwydion. "Look elsewhere, Taran of Caer Dallben."
"But who would harm Eilonwy?" Taran asked urgently. "It is known she is under Dallben's protection."
"There is one who would dare to stand against Dallben," Gwydion said. "One against whom my own powers may not suffice and whom I fear as much as Arawn himself." Gwydion's face was taut and his green eyes flickered with deep anger as he spoke one harsh word: "Achren."
Taran's heart chilled. "No," he whispered. "No. That evil enchantress is dead."
"So I, too, believed," Gwydion answered. "It is not true. Achren lives."
"She has not rebuilt Spiral Castle!" Taran cried, his thoughts flashing to the dungeon where Achren had held him prisoner.
"Spiral Castle still lies in ruins, as you left it," Gwydion said, "and grass already covers it. Oeth-Anoeth, where Achren would have given me to death, no longer stands. I have journeyed to those places and seen with my own eyes.
"You must know that I have long pondered her fate," Gwydion went on. "Of Achren there has not been the slightest sign, as though the earth had swallowed her. This troubled me and lay heavily on my heart, and I have never given up seeking traces of her.
"At last I found these traces," said Gwydion. "They were faint as words whispered in the wind, puzzling rumors that seemed at first no more than imaginings. A senseless riddle without an answer. Perhaps," Gwydion continued, "I should say an answer without a riddle; And it was only after long toil and hard journeying that I discovered part of that riddle. Alas, only a part."
Gwydion's voice lowered. As he spoke, his hands did not cease carving and shaping the unfinished sandal. "What I have learned is this. After Spiral Castle fell, Achren vanished. At first I believed she had sought refuge in the realm of Annuvin, for she had lived long as a consort of Arawn. Indeed, it was Achren who gave Arawn his power in the days when she herself ruled Prydain.
"But she did not go to Annuvin. Since she had let the sword Dyrnwyn slip from her hands, and failed to take my life, it may be that she feared Arawn's wrath. Perhaps she dared not face him, having been outwitted by a young girl and an Assistant Pig-Keeper. Of this, I am not certain. Nevertheless, she fled Prydain. Since then, no man knows what has befallen her. Yet even to know she is alive is cause enough for fear."
"Do you think she is on Mona?" Taran asked. "Does she seek vengeance on us? But Eilonwy was no more than a child when she escaped from Achren; she understood nothing of what she did."
"Wittingly or not, by taking Dyrnwyn from Spiral Castle, Eilonwy gave Achren her most grievous defeat," Gwydion said. "Achren does not forget or forgive." He knit his brows. "It is my fear that she seeks Eilonwy. Not only for revenge. I sense there is something other than that. It is hidden from me now, yet I must discover it without delay. More than Eilonwy's life may hang in the balance."
"If only Dallben had let her stay with us," Taran said in dismay. "He, too, must have known Achren was alive. Did he not realize Eilonwy would be in danger the moment she was beyond his protection?"
"Dallben's ways are deep," said Gwydion, "and not always given to me to fathom. He knows much, but he foresenses more than he chooses to tell." Gwydion, putting down his awl, drew out a leather thong and began stitching it through the sandal. "Dallben sent me word that the Princess Eilonwy would voyage to Mona, and counseled me to turn my attention here. He told me, too, of certain other matters. But it is better not to speak of them now."
"I cannot sit idle while Eilonwy may be in peril," Taran insisted. "Is there no way I can serve you?"
"You shall serve me best by keeping silent," Gwydion answered. "Stay watchful. Say nothing of me or of what we have spoken, not to the Princess Eilonwy, not even to Fflewddur." He smiled. "Our eager bard saw me in the stables and luckily did not know me. Meantime, I shall..."
Before the Prince of Don could finish, Gurgi began waving his arms in warning. Footsteps rang in the corridor and Gwydion bent quickly to the task of fitting the sandals.
"Hullo, hullo!" cried Prince Rhun, striding into the chamber. "Ah, shoemaker, there you are. Have you done with your work? I say, they are handsome, aren't they?" he said, glancing at the sandals. "Amazingly well-made. I should like a pair myself. Oh--- my mother asks to see you in the Great Hall," he added, turning to Taran.
Gwydion's face had fallen suddenly into lines and wrinkles; his shoulders were hunched and his voice shook with age. Without a further glance at Taran, Gwydion beckoned to Rhun. "Come with me, young Prince," he said. "you shall have sandals befitting your station."
As Kaw fluttered after him, Taran hurried from the chamber and down the corridor. Gurgi, round-eyed with fright, trotted beside him.
"Oh, fearsome danger!" Gurgi moaned. "Gurgi is sorry great enchanter sends us to place of peril. Gurgi wants to hide his poor tender head under kindly straw at Caer Dallben."
Taran warned him to silence. "Eilonwy is surely in more danger than we are," he whispered, hastening toward the Great Hall. "I don't like the thought of Achren turning up again any more than you do. But Gwydion is here to protect Eilonwy, and so are we."
"Yes, yes!" cried Gurgi. "Brave, loyal Gurgi will guard golden-haired Princess, too, oh yes; and she will be safe with him. But," he snuffled, "he still longs to be in Caer Dallben."
"Take heart, my friend," Taran said. He smiled and put a hand on Gurgi's trembling shoulder. "We companions shall see no ill befalls any of us. But remember--- not a word that Gwydion is here. He has his own plans and we must do nothing to betray them."
"Gurgi will be silent!" Gurgi cried, clapping his hands to his mouth. "Oh, yes! But mind," he added, shaking a finger at Kaw, "that gossipy black bird does not tell with talkings and squawkings!"
"Silence!" Kaw croaked, bobbing his head. "Secrets!"
In the high-ceilinged Great Hall, with its flagstones that seemed to cover a space as large as the orchard at Caer Dallben, Taran caught sight of Eilonwy amid a group of court ladies. Some, of Eilonwy's age, were listening delightedly to the Princess; the rest, all of whom looked much like Queen Teieria, were frowning or whispering behind their hands. Magg, standing near the Queen's throne, watched impassively.
"...and there we stood," Eilonwy was saying, her eyes flashing, "back to back, sword in hand! The Huntsmen of Annuvin burst from the forest! They were upon us in a moment!"
The young girls.of the court gasped with excitement, while some of the older women gave horrified cluckings that reminded Taran of nothing so much as Coll's chicken run. Taran saw that Eilonwy wore a new cloak; her hair had been combed and dressed in a different fashion; among the ladies, she shone like a bird of golden plumage; and, with a curious twinge of heart, Taran realized that had it not been for her chattering he might not have known her.
"Good Llyr!" cried Queen Teleria, who had leaped from her throne as Eilonwy continued the tale of battle. "I'm beginning to think you haven't had a--- my dear child, don't be so gleeful when you talk about hacking at people with swords--- safe moment in your life." She blinked, shook her head, and fanned herself with a kerchief. "What a relief that Dallben has finally decided to be sensible and send you to us. If nothing else, you'll be out of harm's way."
Taran caught his breath, and it took all his strength to force himself not to shout Gwydion's warning aloud.