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

“-but it never occurred to us that he might be back here. Least of all that we should see him as we see
him now, in his full strength, well and happy!”

“For that, we give blessings to Holy Church,” rumbled Herrac, “but Giles has told us little, beyond the
fact that he died at a large battle in France. My other sons will be here soon; and meantime we can set in
process a dinner worthy of your company.”

He lifted a powerful open hand from the table, slightly, in apology.

“It will take an hour or so. Can I suggest you all have a pitcher or so of wine, and then let Giles show
you to your room? So that you can then prepare yourselves as you see fit, to eat and drink properly, if
sobeit you think any preparation be needed. That way, when you come down, you can tell all the family
at once. Alas”-his face for a moment was shadowed as if by the remembrance of agony-“that my wife is
not here to hear it as well; but she died of a great and sudden pain in the chest six years past on the third
day before Christmas. It was a sad Christmas in this household that year.”

“I can well believe so, Sir Herrac,” said Brian, his quick and generous sympathy leaping immediately into
response to the word. “How many other children have you?”

“I have five sons,” said Herrac, “two older than Giles here, and two younger. The youngest is but
sixteen, even now. I also have one daughter, who is visiting neighbors today; but will return tomorrow.”

“Surely, that too is an excellent thing, Sir Herrac,” said Dafydd in his soft voice, “for a man should have
both sons and daughters, look you, if his life is to be truly fulfilled.”

“I feel as you do, Master Dafydd,” rumbled Herrac.

He seemed to shake emotion from him.

“But,” he went on, “we are concerned now with the present and in particular what is to come tonight. It
will be interesting to hear you tell of Giles in France. He was never one to tell us much about himself”

And he looked fondly down the table at Giles, who was-Jim thought-most surely blushing now, if only
the torches about the hall had thrown light enough to show it.

Herrac rose from the table.

“Giles,” he said, “when these good friends have drunk, will you take them to the uppermost chamber;
and see that all their wants are satisfied?”

It was a statement, in fact an order, rather than a question to his son. Giles bobbed to his feet.

“I’ll take good care of them, Father,” he said, “the best care.”

“See you do,” rumbled Herrac; and strode away from the table to vanish once more into the noise and
odors of the kitchen and probably to someplace in the tower above, from which he had undoubtedly
been summoned by news of their arrival.

It was up that same tower about twenty minutes later, when the wine jugs had been emptied, that Giles
led them to a top-most room. It was obviously normally occupied by Herrac, himself. Giles remarked