"David Gemmell - Wolf in Shadow" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gemmel David)

A rabbit leapt from the brush, startling the gelding. Shannow saw the
creature vanish into the undergrowth and then uncocked the long-barrelled
pistol, sliding it back into the scabbard at his hip. He could not recall
drawing it clear. Such was the legacy of the years of peril - fast hands, a
sure eye and a body that reacted independently of the conscious mind.

Not always a good thing . . . Shannow would never forget the look of
blank incomprehension in the child's eyes as the lead ball clove his heart.
Nor the way his frail body had crumpled lifeless to the earth. There had been
three Brigands that day and one had shot Shannow's horse out from under him,
while the other two ran forward with knife and axe. He had destroyed them all
in scant seconds, but a movement behind caused him to swivel and fire. The
child had died without a sound.

Would God ever forgive him?

Why should he, when Shannow could not forgive himself?

'You were better off losing, Goliath,' said Shannow.

The wind changed and a stomach-knotting aroma of frying bacon drifted to
him from the east. Shannow tugged the reins to the right. After a quarter of a
mile the trail rose and fell and a narrow path opened on to a meadow and a
stone-fronted farmhouse. Before the building was a vegetable garden and beyond
it a paddock where several horses were penned.

There were no defence walls and the windows of the house were wide and
open. To the left of the building the trees had been allowed to grow to within
twenty yards of the wall, allowing no field of fire to repel Brigands. Shannow
sat and stared for some time at this impossible dwelling. Then he saw a child
carrying a bucket emerge from the barn beyond the paddock. A woman walked out
to meet him and ruffled his blond hair.

Shannow scanned the fields and meadows for sign of a man. At last,
satisfied that they were alone, he edged the gelding out on to open ground and
approached the building. The boy saw him first and ran inside the house.

Donna Taybard's heart sank as she saw the rider and she fought down
panic as she lifted the heavy crossbow from the wall. Placing her foot in the
bronze stirrup she dragged back on the string, but could not notch it.

'Help me, Eric.' The boy joined her and together they cocked the weapon.
She slid a bolt into place and stepped on to the porch. The rider had halted
some thirty feet from the house and Donna's fear swelled as she took in the
gaunt face and deep-set eyes, shadowed under the wide-brimmed hat. She had
never seen a Brigand, but had anyone asked her to imagine one this man would
have leapt from her night-mares. She lifted the crossbow, resting the heavy
butt against her hip.

'Ride on,' she said. 'I have told Fletcher we shall not leave, and I