"Sharon K. Penman - Reckoning" - читать интересную книгу автора (Penman Sharon K)

and the boys began to breathe in humid August air that foretold a coming
storm. They saw the Earl and his men ride into the abbey so that the captive
King Henry might hear Mass. They experienced the rebel army's joy that
salvation was at hand, for the Earl's second sonyoung Simon, known to friends
and foes alike as Branwas on his way from Kenilworth Castle with a vast army.
And they shuddered and groaned when Damian told them that Bran had tarried too
long, that through his lack of care, his men were ambushed by the King's son.
Flying Bran's captured banners, the Lord Edward had swept down upon Evesham,
and by the time Earl Simon discovered the ruse, it was too late. Trapped
between Edward's advancing army and the river, he and his men had ridden out
to die.
"Earl Simon knew they were doomed, but his faith never faltered. He told his
men that their cause was just, that a king should not be accountable only to
God. 'The men of England will cherish their liberties all the more,' he said,
'knowing that we died for them.' " Damian's voice trailed off. There was a
somber silence, broken at last by one of the younger lads, wanting to know if
it was true that the Earl had been hideously maimed by his enemies. It was a
question Damian had often
been asked, but it was not one he found easy to answereven now. He hesitated
and a young voice came from the shadows.
"They hacked off Earl Simon's head and his private male parts, dispatched them
as keepsakes to Roger de Mortimer's wife. His arms and legs were chopped off,
too, sent to towns that had favored the Earl, and his mangled corpse was
thrown to the dogs. Brother Damian retrieved what was left of the Earl's body,
carried it on a ladder into the church, and buried it before the High Altar.
But even then the Earl's enemies were not satisfied. They dug his body up,
buried him in unhallowed ground. It was only after Simon's son Amaury appealed
to the Pope that we were able to give the Earl a decent Christian burial."
It was a grisly account, but none thought to challenge it, for the speaker was
another who had reason to be well versed in the de Montfort mythology; Hugh de
Whitton's father had died fighting for Simon on that rain-drenched Evesham
field.
Damian gave Hugh a grateful glance, then sent them off to wash up before
supper. He was not surprised when Hugh lingered, offering to help him carry
his candles to the sacristy. Of all the boys who lived at the abbey, both
novices and students, none were as generous, as open-hearted as Hugh. Damian
was very fond of him, and he grieved for the bleakness of the boy's future.
For a lad of fourteen, he'd had more than his share of sorrows. His mother had
died giving birth to a stillborn son when he was just four; he'd been but nine
at the time of his father's battlefield death, and there were none to redeem
his sire's forfeit lands. A cousin was found who'd grudgingly agreed to pay
for the boy's education, but now that he was in his fifteenth year, the
payments had ceased. Damian knew that the Abbot could not keep the lad on
indefinitely. Nor would he stay once he realized his presence had become a
charity, for Hugh was as proud as he was impoverished. Damian was by nature an
optimist, but even he had few illusions as to what lay ahead for Hugh.
Landless orphans did not often prosper, even in the best of times.
As they headed for the church, Hugh shortened his stride to match the monk's.
He might lack for earthly possessions, but not for stature; he was already
taller than many men, and his long legs, loose-gaited walk, and broadening