"Kerr, Katharine - Deverry 01 - Daggerspell v1.1" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dragon Stories)

For the rsst of the day, Jill and Abryn scrupulously avoided each other, but on the morrow morning Abryn came up to her. He looked at the ground near her feet and kicked at a lump of dirt with the toe of his clog.
“I’m sorry I said your da was scum,” Abryn said. “And you can wear brigga if you want to.”
“My thanks. And I’m sorry I made your nose bleed. I didn’t mean to hit you that hard.”
Abryn looked up with a smile.
“Want to play warrior?” he said. “I’ve got two wooden swords.”
For the next couple of days, life went on quietly in Tieryn Braedd’s dun. In the mornings, Cullyn and two of the riders weny out to patrol the oak wood; in the afternoons, the Tieryn and the other two riders rode out to relieve them. Jill helped Abryn with his tasks around the dun, which left them plenty of time to play at swords or with Abryn’s leather ball. Jill’s only problem was Abryn’s mother, who was sure that Jill should be learning needlework instead of playing outside. Jill grew quite clever at avoiding her At meals, the warband ate at one table in the great hall, while the Tieryn and Glyn’s family ate at another. Once the councillor retired to his chambers, however, Braedd would come drink with the riders. He always talked about the feud, which he knew year by year, events that had happened long before he was born down to the most recent insult.
Finally, after about a week of this pleasant routine, Braedd hurried over to the warband’s table one evening with his pale eyes gleaming. He had news: one of the servants had been to the local village and had overheard gossip about Ynydd’s plans.
“The baseborn pusboil!” Braedd said. “He’s claiming that since the swine rights are his, he can send in his swine any time he likes, summer or fall. They say he’s planning on sending a few pigs in under armed guard.”
Except for Cullyn, the warband began cursing and slamming their tankards on the table.
“And I say he won’t set one trotter in my woods,” Braedd went on. “From now on, the full warband’s going to ride on patrol.”
The warband cheered.
“Your Grace?” Cullyn said. “If I may speak?”
“By all means,” Braedd said. “I value your experience in the field highly.”
“My thanks, Your Grace. Well, here, the woods are a bit long for only one patrol. The warband might be down at one end while Ynydd’s making his entry at the other. We’d best split into two patrols and ride a crisscross route. We can use the page and a servant to send messages and suchlike.”
“Well spoken,” Braedd said. “We’ll do just that, and take Abryn along with us.”
“Can I go, Your Grace?” Jill burst out. “I’ve got my own pony.”
“Jill, hush!” Cullyn snapped.
“Now there’s a lass with her father’s spirit,” Braedd said with a grin. “You may come indeed.”
Since Braedd was the Tieryn and he the silver dagger, Cullyn could say nothing more, but he gave Jill a good slap later when he got her alone.
After two days of riding with the patrol, Jill was sorry she’d pressed the issue, because it was very boring. With Cullyn and two riders, she trotted up to one end of the wood, then turned and trotted back to meet the Tieryn and the rest of the warband —back and forth, from dawn to dusk. Her one solace was that she got to carry a beautiful silver horn slung over her shoulder on a leather strap. Finally, on the third day, when they’d been out on patrol no more than an hour, Jill heard a strange noise a good ways from them on the edge of the woods. She slowed her pony and fell back to listen: a clattering, grunting, snorfling sound.
“Da!” Jill called out. “I hear pigs and horses!” The three men swung their horses around and rode back,
“So it is.” Cullyn drew his sword with a flourish. “Ride for the Tieryn. We’ll hold them off.”
As she galloped, Jill blew her horn repeatedly. At last she heard Abryn’s horn close at hand. Tieryn Braedd burst out of the trees to meet her.
“Your Grace!” Jill screamed. “They’re here.”
Then she turned her pony and raced back ahead of them, because she didn’t want to miss a single thing. As she burst out of the forest, she could hear the swine clearly, grunting their way along. There was a path crossing a wide green meadow, and Cullyn and the others were sitting on their horses to block it. Down across the meadow came a strange procession. At its head was a lord who had to be Ynydd, carrying a green-blazoned shield with a gold boss. Seven riders, also armed and ready, rode behind him. At the rear was a herd often swine with two terrified- peasants poking the pigs with sticks to keep them moving. Tieryn Braedd and his men galloped into position beside Cullyn and the others. When Braedd drew his sword, the other men did the same, screaming out insults to Lord Ynydd, whose men screamed, right back. Cullyn yelled at Jill and Abryn to stay out of the way, then sat quietly on his horse, his sword resting on his saddle peak.
“Lord Ynydd’s a swine himself,” Abryn said. “Bringing all his men just so he can outnumber us.”
“He is, but we’re not truly outnumbered. My da’s worth at least three men.”
Slowly the procession came on. The swine kept breaking ranks, grunting and complaining, forcing the men to wait while the peasants rounded them up again. At last Lord Ynydd pulled his horse up about ten feet in front of Tieryn Braedd. While the two lords glared at each other, the swine milled around. Even from her distance, Jill could smell the big gray boars, with a roach of dark hair down their backs and shiny tusks curling out of their snouts.
“So,” Ynydd called out. “Would you block me from my lawful rights, Braedd?”
“These rights are not yours to take,” Braedd said.
“They are. I will not be blocked this way and dishonored.”
The swine grunted loudly, as if they were cheering him on. Cullyn urged his horse up closer and bowed in his saddle to the lords.
“Your Grace, my lord, both of you,” Cullyn said. “Can’t you see what a pretty picture we make, with the swine to watch our tournament?”
“Hold your tongue, silver dagger,” Ynydd snapped. “I won’t be mocked by a dishonored man.”
“I meant no mockery, my lord,” Cullyn said. “If I may speak, would you claim that you yourself have the right to ride into the grove?”
Braedd grinned smugly at Ynydd’s sullen silence.
“Tell me, my lord,” Cullyn went on. “If these swine weren’t at stake, would you dishonor the High King’s judgment on these woods?”
“Never would I dishonor the High King,” Ynydd said. “But my swine—”
With a whoop, Cullyn kicked his horse to a gallop, dodged around Ynydd and his men, and rode straight for the herd of swine. Yelling a war cry at the top of his lungs, he swung around with the flat of his sword. The swine and their tenders fled in terror, pig and peasant alike grunting and yelling as they raced across the meadow toward home. Both warbands were laughing too hard at the sight to give chase, much less battle. Only Ynydd was furious, yelling at his men to stop laughing and do something. Finally Cullyn left the chase and jogged back.
“Good my lord?” Cullyn called out. “Your swine no longer desire passage here.”
Ynydd spurred his horse forward and swung at Cullyn. Cullyn parried, catching the blade on his own and leaning slightly to one side. Ynydd tumbled out of his saddle and onto the ground. In his warband, yells exploded. Chasing swine was one thing: dishonoring their lord, quite another. The seven men swung their horses around and charged straight for Cullyn with Braedd’s men in close pursuit. Jill clutched her saddle peak and screamed. Da was out there all alone. She saw Ynydd scrambling back onto his horse just as the warbands closed around them.
The horses were plunging and kicking; the men, swinging and cursing. Dust rose up as thick as smoke. The men were dodging and parrying more than they were honestly trying to strike. Jill wondered if any of them had ever been in battle before. The flash of blades, the horses rearing, men pushing and swinging and yelling—it began to look like a terrifying dance, the clot of horses and men turning slowly around and around, the flashing swords keeping time. At last Jill saw Cullyn, moving his horse around the edge of the melee.
Cullyn was silent, his face perfectly calm, as if he found battle tedious. Then he began to strike, and he wasn’t dodging like the others. He cut hard, shoved his way into the mob, slashed around, and struck over and over as he made a set course for Lord Ynydd. Ahead of him Ynydd’s warband fell back. One man reeled in the saddle with blood running down his face; Cullyn went on swinging with a bloodied blade and led Braedd’s men behind him like a wedge. He was almost to Ynydd’s side when one rider shoved his horse in between them. For a moment swords flashed and swung; then the rider screamed and fell over his horse’s neck into the mob. Cullyn tossed his head, but his face showed nothing at all.
Lord Ynydd’s line broke. With a shout of surrender, Ynydd turned his horse and fled, his warband close behind him. One riderless horse went along with them. Braedd and his men chased them, but slowly, down to the edge of the meadow. Cullyn stayed behind, dismounted, then knelt down by the body of the rider. Without thinking, Jill dismounted and raced over to him.
“Da, are you all right?”
“Get away.” Cullyn rose and slapped her across the face. “Get back, Jill.”
Although Jill ran back, it was already too late. She’d seen what Cullyn didn’t want her to see—the rider lying face down in the grass with a pool of blood spreading from his throat and soaking into his soft blond hair. Blood smelled warm, sticky, and unexpectedly sweet. Abryn ran to meet her.
“Did you see?” His face was dead white.
Jill fell to her knees and began to vomit, kept it up until her tomach was sore. Abryn grabbed her shoulder when she was done and helped her stand up. She felt as cold as if it were snowing. They walked back to the two ponies and sat down to watch the warband come back, laughing and crowing at the victory. Jill was so tired that she closed her eyes, but she could see the dead man like a picture, the blood spreading around him. Hastily she opened her eyes again. Eventually Cullyn left the warband and walked over to her.
“I told you to stay away,” he said.