"Gordon R. Dickson - Dragon Knight 03 - The Dragon on the Border" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dickson Gordon R)

But Jim had generally managed to avoid this custom, so far. Now, with Giles, it would seem cold of him
not to accept it whole-heartedly. Jim wondered how women stood the beard bristles.

He made a mental note-which at the same time he guiltily knew he would have forgotten by the time he
was home again- to make sure he was as clean-shaven as possible, next time, before kissing Angie. Jim
also winced to think of what it must have been like for Giles, himself, with the solid-metal-clad sleeves of
Brian’s arms enclosing him, in spite of the chain shirt.

However, Giles had made no protest, and shown no discomfort. Then Giles was hugging Dafydd, who
likewise seemed to take it in no other way but with complete happiness, though in this case Giles’s chain
mail must have bit noticeably even into Dafydd’s leather jacket.

“But come inside!” said Giles. He half turned and shouted. “Ho, from the stables! Take the horses of
these good gentlemen!”

Half a dozen servants appeared with the same suspicious quickness with which Jim’s servants at
Malencontri had a tendency to appear, whenever something interesting was going on.

They led off the horses and several of them, two of them wearing kilts of differing colors and patterns,
carried the saddles and personal gear inside.

Giles led them forward, and flung open the door of a long wooden building which was obviously the
Great Hall; leading to the tower. As a Great Hall, it was noticeably smaller than that of Jim’s castle; but it
was arranged the same way, with a long table on a lower level stretching the length of the hall; and a
shorter one-the “high table”-crosswise on a platform at the far end.

Giles led them eagerly to the table on the platform, which was obviously, by the smells, just in front of
the kitchen; which here would be on the ground floor of the tower itself. Not only the doors through
which they had entered the hall, but those beyond leading into the kitchen, now propped ajar, were tall
and wide enough to ride horses through.

It was plain that this castle, like so many other border castles, was designed with defense first in mind. It
had been built for a situation in which everyone could, need came, retreat within the stout, flame-resistant
stone walls of the peel tower itself.

This was a wise and standard practice if attackers were too numerous or too strong to fight off in the
courtyard; or beyond the front curtain wall that held the main gate, with its two cresset torches.

The high table was deserted; and the air, although heavy with the same smells Jim had encountered from
all Great Halls that Jim had had anything to do with, was pleasantly warm after the growing chill of the
outside night.

Giles sat them at benches at the table and shouted for wine and cups, which came with the same
suspicious quickness that the servants had shown with regard to the horses and the gear outside in the
courtyard.

Almost on their heels came an individual from the kitchen doors who dwarfed all of them.

“Father, these are the two noble knights I told you about who were my Companions in France, and the
archer of renown who was also with us!” Giles said, beaming. “James-Brian- Dafydd, this is my father