"Joanna Russ - Souls" - читать интересную книгу автора (Russ Joanna)

kept very quiet.)
Now you could see that the pirates were dumfounded to hear her
speak their own language and even more so that she called one by
his name; some stepped backwards and made strange signs in the air
and others unsheathed axes or swords and came running towards the

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Abbess. But this Thorvald Einarsson put up his hand for them to
stop and laughed heartily.
"Think!" he said. "There's no magic here, only cleverness—what
pair of ears could miss my name with the lot of you bawling out
'Thorvald Einarsson, help me with this oar;' 'Thorvald Einarsson,
my leggings are wet to the knees;' 'Thorvald Einarsson, this stream
is as cold as a Fimbulwinter!"
The Abbess Radegunde nodded and smiled. Then she sat down
plump on the river bank. She scratched behind one ear, as I had
often seen her do when she was deep in thought. Then she said (and
I am sure that this talk was carried on in a loud voice so that we in
the Abbey could hear it):
"Good friend Thorvald, you are as clever as the tale I heard of you
from your sisters son, Ranulf, from whom I learnt the Norse when I
was in Rome, and to show you it was he, he always swore by his
gray horse, Lamefoot, and he had a difficulty in his speech; he
could not say the sounds as we do and so spoke of you always as
'Torvald.' Is not that so?"
I did not realize it then, being only a child, but the Abbess was—by
this speech—claiming hospitality from the man and had also picked
by chance or inspiration the cleverest among these thieves, for his
next words were:
"I am not the leader. There are no leaders here."
He was warning her that they were not his men to control, you see.
So she scratched behind her ear again and got up. Then she began to
wander, as if she did not know what to do, from one to the other of


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these uneasy folk—for some backed off and made signs at her still,
and some took out their knives—singing her little tune again and
walking slowly, more bent over and older and infirm-looking than
we had ever seen her, one helpless little woman in black before all
those fierce men. One wild young pirate snatched the headdress
from her as she passed, leaving her short gray hair bare to the wind;
the others laughed and he that had done it cried out:
"Grandmother, are you not ashamed?"