"Gordon R. Dickson - Dragon Knight 08 - The Dragon in Lyonesse" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dickson Gordon R)

Which meant, of course, that Dafydd had won everything in sight, as usual. He always avoided saying
anything against a fellow archer; and in the rare case where he had been outdone (never more than once)
by one of them, the information would be choking him until he could get it told. For all his casual, almost
lazy habit of speaking, he could not bear the thought anyone might think he was afraid of admitting his
failures.

“My servants-“ began Jim, to change the subject; but was interrupted by the one of these nearest him
starting to pour wine from a pitcher into his wine cup, temporarily blocking Dafydd from his sight. “-were
surprised to find you here, already in the Hall.”

“Indeed, they were so,” said Dafydd. “But I had come in quietly of purpose, it being my aim to find out
how well a watch was kept for you.”

“But the main gate’s doors in the curtain wall were closed and barred.”

“It was so,” said Dafydd. “Till dawn. But with the sunrise they were opened by sleepy guards who all
drew open first one, then the other. So it was no labor for a man of woods and mountains like myself to
slip past them unseen. Once in, there was only a short walk into the Hall, past others half-asleep still, to
this table. It would not be hard for another like myself to do the same. I am not a man who tells another
how he should live; but when you are away from here, yourself, it might be wisest to make sure a stricter
watch is kept.”

“Now you mention it, it probably would be,” said Jim. “But what made you concerned after this much
time with the guarding of our main gate?”

“You have not heard, then?” said Dafydd. “It is talked about all over England that Cumberland raises his
own hired army, taking every hedge-knight, outlaw, and common wastrel that will go with him for hope
of gain. Already it is said he has two or three hundred of such. With such force to his hand, it would not
be surprising if he decided to pay off old scores. He is no friend of yours.”

“You can say that, all right,” Jim said. “He hates our-that is, you’re right. He has little love for me, or
Angie; and Agatha Falon, his leman, has even less-little love for any of us, including you and Brian and
any belonging to either of you. But his coming against Malencontri with an army that large-“

“It does not require so much, look you. One man slipping inside the walls as I did can arrange to knife a
sentry and let in a dozen more up a rope or through a small postern gate. That dozen can hold the gate,
open it, and admit no more than thirty more to a sleeping castle, then kill most of those who could
oppose them before they are half-awake. Then they who came are all gone again, like smoke; and no
man knows who was responsible for the death or capture of you or Lady Angela.”

“Hah!” said Jim, thoughtlessly out loud, and woke to the fact that both Dafydd and Angie were staring at
his unusual use of the handy, all-purpose medieval exclamation. He looked directly at Angie.

“I thought it was a little too good to be true-someone like Chandos going to all the trouble of writing us a
private letter just to tell us we were free of the warrants issued on us.”

Angie nodded slowly.

“You’re right,” she said. “He had to know we’d hear what Dafydd just told us and put it together with