"P. N. Elrod & Nigel Bennett - His Father's Son" - читать интересную книгу автора (Elrod P N)

come. Down the hall a door closed with a bang; by its sound it was the one to the duke’s inner chamber.
Ambert would have gone there to apprise the old man of the presence of his other son. Either the
wearisome task of waiting would soon end or Richard would be out here the rest of the night.
The two hounds whimpered, still hiding under a far table. Richard bent to look at them.
“Come on, my lovelies. Am I not better company than Ambert? When did I ever kick and curse you,
eh?”
Merlin whined, head pressed to the flags, but gave a tentative wag of his tail.
“Come and be friends again. I’ll not hurt you.” He put forth first his hand, then his will, to see if it might
also work on animals. “Come, now, come to heel, there’s a good boy. . . .”
Whether it was his voice or his influence that coaxed Merlin out, Richard could not be sure, but after
much hesitation the great dog did finally emerge, slowly followed by Prince. With halting steps they came
close enough to touch. Richard ruffled their coarse fur, praising and reassuring them. As if shamed by their
previous fear of him and wanting to make up for it, they licked his face and hands, tails still tucked, but
wagging.
“You’re all right, now, aren’t you? Good, good lads. What a pity Ambert and I can’t get along as well as
you two.”
They rolled on their backs for him to scratch their bellies, friendship restored. Richard sealed it by finding
some choice scraps from the table to give them.
A door opened somewhere. As one, Richard and the hounds swung their heads in the direction of the
noise, alert.
 Light spilled into the feasting hall from the entry. Richard heard a rustle and grunt from his father’s
chamber followed by the sound of slippered feet. Perhaps his long wait was nearly over.
“Go on, lads. You won’t want to be here.” He pushed the dogs off and found a place to stand in the
darkness well away from the candle.
A large shadow fell across the floor as his brother’s ample frame obscured the entry light. For a
moment, Ambert peered across the apparently empty hall, saying nothing before moving forward, his steps
hesitant and faltering. He picked up the abandoned candle, holding it out ahead of him.
“Richard . . . ?”
Richard remained quite still.
“Are you there, or have you run away like the craven you are?”
The silence that followed must have convinced Ambert that what he thought was indeed the case, and
his courage grew proportionately.
“Well you may run, sirrah, for you are of no worth here,” he spat to the room. “The midwife should have
strangled thee!”
He turned to go back, but gave a sharp cry when the candlelight shone on Richard, who was suddenly in
the way. Ambert started, letting the candle fall, only to see it caught in midair by his brother, who calmly
raised it to illumine their faces once more. They were close enough that, had he been so inclined, Richard
could have counted the broken veins on his brother’s nose. Ambert shivered, and his face twitched into
what should have been a scowl, but his fear spoiled the attempt. He jerked his chin in the direction of the
hall.
“Fa—Father wants . . .” But he did not seem to be able to finish. His words sounded too thick to escape
the trembling portal of his mouth.
“I await only my lord’s pleasure, dear Ambert,” said Richard evenly.
“Damn you,” he choked out in return.
Richard placed the flickering light back in Ambert’s shaking grasp. “Have a care, brother. One fallen
candle on these rushes could cost you your castle.”
A booming voice from down the hall cracked through the still air like a whip. “I would speak with you,
Richard!”
Their father’s voice. Even the favored eldest son cringed at the sound.
“Let me see you, boy!”