"David Gemmell - Morningstar" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gemmel David)

by a gang of ruffians. I fear they were intent on rape. But no harm has been done.’ They
didn't. . . ?' began Bellin.

'No,' the officer answered.

'The gods be praised,' said the innkeeper, stepping forward and taking his daughter
into a suffocating embrace. Her senses had returned and she looked towards me. Easing
herself clear of her father's arms, she curtseyed prettily. She did not seem in the least
troubled, and I guessed then that she had recovered far more swiftly than any of the men
had guessed. Her eyes were upon me and I thought I saw an invitation there, but I was
young then and found it hard to believe that any attractive girl would give me a second
glance.
 'I thank you, sir, for your kindness and your bravery,' she said. What could I say?
I recall mumbling some nonsense and wishing I was gone. The innkeeper moved his great
bulk towards me, then stamped me on the shoulder. It was the most painful moment of the
night, but I grinned foolishly and basked in their praise. ‘Where did this happen?' asked
Bellin. Petra took hold of the officer's arm.

'Baker's Alley,' she said swiftly. I saw the officer's reaction and knew at once
that this was not the place of the incident. But he said nothing, and neither did I.

It seemed the young lady had been visiting her grandmother, having taken a basket
of pies and fruit for the old woman. It was a fine story, but both the officer and I knew
she had detoured to

meet some young suitor. The officer waited while Petra removed herself to her room
to dress, but when she returned his cloak he bowed and left to resume his duties. After
he had gone I asked Bellin if he could supply directions back to the inn where I had
purchased lodgings. When I named the place he guffawed.

'You cannot stay in such a cockroach-infested hovel,' he insisted and offered me,
free of charge, his best guest-room, slipping two gold coins into my hand as he ushered
me through the main drinking hall. I am ashamed to say that I did not even make a polite
attempt to refuse either. But then times were hard in Ziraccu.

The room was low-ceilinged and boasted two windows, one narrow and leaded, the
other large and leading to a small balcony. The bed was softer than I liked, but the
mattress was thick and clean. There was a table, four leather covered chairs, and a stool
set before the stone fireplace. A fire had been recently lit, and the room was still
cold. I sat down upon the stool and sipped a goblet of fine wine.

These lodgings were far better than those for which I had paid. Banking the fire,
which by now had fulfilled its purpose and warmed the room, I took off my coat and
undershirt, laying them carefully upon the back of a chair. The boots, complete with the
wedding silver and the two gold coins, I left under the bed.

All in all it had been a fine day. It was not often that a bard was treated like a
hero and, though I find compliments embarrassing, I am forced to admit that I enjoyed the
praise. There was a little guilt also, for it was not I but Jarek Mace who had saved the
girl. But I consoled myself with the thought that it was I, Owen Odell, who had first