"Elizabeth Moon - Gird 01 - Surrender None" - читать интересную книгу автора (Moon Elizabeth)

“Well—”
“And did you hit this boy?” The steward pointed at Gird.
“Well, sir, I may have—sort of—sort of pushed at him, like, but
nothing hard, not to say brawling. But he’s one of them, you know,
likes to make quarrels—”
The steward frowned. “It’s not the first time, Sikan, that you and
Rauf have been found in bad order.” He nodded at the men behind
Gird, and they released his arms. Gird rubbed his left elbow. “As for
you, Gird son of Dorthan, brawling in the lord’s court is always
wrong—always. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.” There was nothing else to say.
“And you’re at fault in saying that your plums were stolen. They
were your lord’s plums, owed to him. If Rauf had given them in, the
lord would still have them. Instead—” The steward waved his hand at
the mess. Very few whole fruit had survived the brawl. “But your
family has a good name, young Gird, and I think you did not mean to
cause trouble. So there will be no fine in fruit for your family… only
you, along with these others, will stay and clean the court until those
stones are clean enough to satisfy Sergeant Mager here.”
“Yes, sir.” And he would be late home, and get another whipping
from his father.
“Now as for you, Sikan, and Rauf—” For Rauf had begun to move
about, and his eyes opened, though aimlessly as yet. “Since you
started trouble, and moreover chose a smaller boy to bully, you’ll
spend a night in the stocks, when this work is done.” And the steward
turned away, back to his canopy over the account table where the
scribes made marks on long rolls of parchment.
Gird found the rest of that day instructive. He had scrubbed their
stone floor often enough at home, and scraped dung from the
cowshed. But his mother was no more particular about the bowls they
ate from than Sergeant Mager about the courtyard stones. He and the
other boys picked up pieces of the squashed fruit and put them in
baskets—without getting even a taste of it. Then they carried buckets
of water—buckets so large that Gird couldn’t carry one by

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Elizabeth Moon - Surrender None


himself—and brushed the stones with water and long-handled
brushes. Then they rinsed, and then they scrubbed again.
Just when Gird was sure that the stones could be no cleaner had they
just been quarried, the Sergeant would find a scrap of fruit rind, and
they had it all to do over again. But he did his best, working as hard
as he could. By the time the Sergeant let them go, it was well past
midday, and Gird’s fingers were raw with scrubbing. He called Gird
back from the gate for an extra word.
“Your dad’s got a good name,” he said, laying a heavy hand on
Gird’s shoulder. “And you’re a good lad, if quick-tempered. You’ve
got courage, too—you were willing to take on those bigger lads. Ever