"Gordon R. Dickson - Dragon Knight 04 - The Dragon At War" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dickson Gordon R)

must wash her hands before cutting up meat.
The Lady Angela was a winsome sight, in a blue and silver gown, had either she or the cook cared
about that at the moment; but neither of them did. Picking up her skirts with a resigned fury-resigned,
because it seemed there was always something around the castle for her, as Chatelaine, to be furious
about-Lady Angela headed in the direction of the shouting voice.
When she got to the Great Hall, she discovered the men-at-arms there, with other servants, were all
plastered back against its walls; while the little kettle had somehow managed to mount the high table, set
itself in the very center, and begun whistling steadily, as if it was tea-time-not only for Carolinus but for
anyone else who was around.
тАЬMтАЩlady! MтАЩlady!тАЭ babbled the gate guard, as she passed him where he was clinging to one of the pillars
of the halls about four feet off the floor. тАЬIt is a witch-kettle! Ware! Go no closer! It is a witch-kettle-тАЬ
тАЬNonsense!тАЭ said the Lady Angela, who was from an alternate world in the twentieth century where they
no longer believed in witch-kettles.
She strode decisively past the guard toward the high table.

CHAPTER TWO
Meanwhile, less than a mile and a half from this scene, there was the Dragon Knight, himself. He was the
good knight Sir James Eckert, Baron-and in the KingтАЩs name- Lord of the High Justice and the Low, for
the lands of le Bois de Malencontri et Riveroak-though where Riveroak was, only James and the Lady
Angela knew.
Actually, it was the name of the small town holding the twentieth-century college in which they had both
been teaching assistants, before they had ended up back here, dimensions away, in an alternate
fourteenth-century world-with dragons, ogres, sand-mirks and other suchlike interesting characters.
To everyone else here, Riveroak was a place unknown; probably far, far away over the western sea.
At the moment. Sir James, being in direct fief from the King, and with a tendency to avoid administering
any justice, High or Low, to the people of his lands, was presently engaged in picking flowers.
He was on his way back from an over-long stay up at the border between England and Scotland, in the
north. He had stopped for the flowers, hoping that a bouquet, presented to his wife, might allay part of
her understandable annoyance at his somewhat overdue reappearance.
He had been led to these flowers by his neighbor and closest friend, the also good knight Sir Brian
Neville-Smythe. Sir Brian was unfortunately only a knight banneret, with a ruined castle which he was
hard put to keep livable; but he had a name in the land; not only as a Companion of the Dragon Knight,
but in his own right as a master of the lance, at the many tournaments held about the English land in this
time.
Sir Brian, full of happiness, was by this time a good four miles off; on his way to his lady-love, the
beauteous Lady Geronde Isabel de Chaney, current Chatelaine of Castle de Chancy; since her father,
the Lord of same, had been gone now some years in Crusade to the Holy Land.
She and Sir Brian could not marry until her father returned and gave permission. But they could most
certainly get together-and did at every opportunity. Sir Brian (and Dafydd ap Hywel, the Master
archer-another close friend and Companion) had been with Sir James up at the Scottish border, visiting
the castle of Sir Giles de Mer, a fourth true Companion and good knight. Like James, Dafydd was also
only now returning to his home, a half-dayтАЩs ride away, with the outlaw band of his father-in-law, Giles oтАЩ
the Wold.
Since Sir Brian knew all this countryside like the back of his hand, and Sir James was only a latecomer
of barely three years, it had taken Sir Brian to direct him to this place where summer flowers might be
gathered nearest to JimтАЩs castle.
Sir BrianтАЩs knowledge had been excellent. On the water-rich ground of a marshy-edged lake there was
indeed a proliferation of plants in flower, with rather loose petals of a sort of orangey-yellow color.
They were not exactly in the same class with roses, of which James-or Jim, as he still thought of
himself-had vaguely been thinking. But they were undeniably flowers; and a large bouquet of them could