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

“I seek no favor—”
“Only escape.” The old man backed his way unsteadily to his massive chair and dropped into it, glaring
at Richard all the while. “I know what dreams fire you, boy. There’s nothing you’d like better than to leave
this place. You’d hoped to do it with that bag of tourney gold, but failed. Now you hope to run off with that
rich whore camped by the west wall. Aye, there’s fitting toil for you, playing whoremaster, or have you sold
yourself to serve in her house instead? Will she finish the work you started on the field? Make a eunuch of
you to disport with her sodomites?” He paused, apparently awaiting a reply.
Richard could find none to give, but stifled the beginnings of a shiver. It was as though ice had taken the
place of all his bones, chilling him from the inside out. The duke was trying to provoke him to make an
excuse to punish him, another of his old tricks, but Richard felt too cold for anger. Sabra, what is the
choice I must make?
But she was silent.
Montague leaned well back in the chair and looked at him over the expanse of his belly, all but smacking
his lips at some inner satisfaction. “Well, you can put that out of your mind, boy—I’ve no intention of
releasing you from your oath to me.”
Now did Richard manage to find voice again, and it was choked with disbelief. “What?”
“You will remain here.”
“Why? My lord wishes me dead, banishing me from your house is the next best thing to that.”
“Aye, so you can run off to a life of ease with that woman? I’ll not have it. I’ll not have you nosing after
the bitch and the two of you laughing at me for giving you leave to go.”
“Wh-what does my lord require of me, then?” It was the question he would be expected to ask, and
Richard’s guts turned over for he was certain of the answer.
Montague deigned to smile. Unpleasantly. He spoke slowly, softly. “I require you retrieve that which
you lost: the honor of my house. You will stay here—I’ll put you in chains if need be—but you will stay
until the next grand tourney.”
Richard felt a swell of black despair. It surged upon him like smothering death until he remembered
himself. Such feelings belonged to the man he had been, not the man he’d become. He was immune to such
threats, now. The feeling faded, replaced by new strength.
The duke continued unaware. “There you will fight that damned upstart and kill him—or die yourself in
the trying.”
I think not. Richard’s mouth twitched, the only sign of his amusement.
Montague’s bloodshot eyes went narrow, on guard for any hint of an attack; his hand moved to rest on
the hilt of his dagger. “You smile again, boy? What pleases you so much?”
“That my lord has such an excellent way with a jest,” he -replied, mindful of the other ears in the room.
“Jest?” said Montague, his tone beginning to rise.
Richard held his breath, all his attention on the duke. He did as before with Ambert, as before with
Ghislaine, pouring all his hard concentration into it, striving this time to get past the monumental barrier of
his father’s anger, hatred, and drunkenness. A small pain formed behind his eyes from the effort. “Indeed,”
he whispered after many long moments. “You did but jest, did you not?”
Montague’s reply was tardy. Richard held out, the ache in his skull growing, but in the end he got a small,
near imperceptible nod in response. His father’s wide face was shiny with sweat.
 “It was most clever, but now you will release me from your service.”
“R—release . . . ?” The old man’s lips quivered.
“Say it, my lord, say that you release me. Say that I am free of my oath to you.”
And the words came out, halting at first, and then in a steady stream of ritualized speech. “I, Montague,
Duc d’Orleans, release you, Richard d’Orleans, from all oaths of fealty and service to my house. You are
free to go and make thy way in the wide world, in honor and grace . . .”
“Excellent,” said Richard, when it was all finished. “You’ll not go back on this. No one will be able to
change your mind on it. I shall leave soon, and you’ll allow no one to hinder me or the people I travel with.
They are of no interest to you; you’ve better things to worry about. Is your understanding clear on this?”