"Clayton Emery - Robin & Marian - Dowsing The Demon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Emery Clayton)

"You can't follow them across water, can you?" asked Robin. He still wasn't sure if he believed in Denis's
dowsing ability or not. Things were happening too fast.
"By the eyes of Samson, I can follow anywhere if we get a boat!"
The five of them looked down the river. Two men in a low skiff heaped with saplings were building a fish
weir. Robin cupped his hands and hollered, "Fishermen! A crown for your trouble!" Digging in his purse
inside his shirt, he held aloft a coin.
"What's a beggar like you," puffed the sheriff, "doing handing out crowns like they was groats? What'd
you say your name was?"
"Robert." The outlaw looked him in the eye. "Of Barnesdale."
The sheriff's eyes narrowed. "You said Farnesfield before."
Robin blinked.
Marian put in, "I hail from Farnesfield, good sheriff. My family lives there. We're occupying their loft until
we can buy a house. But I fear my scalawag husband is too free with our coins. Would he were a
sensible man like yourself, wise in the ways of the world and blessed with an exceptional memory." Her
smile warmed the space under the bridge.
The sheriff shook his head in exasperation.
The boatmen had drawn close enough to catch the coin. Five passengers and one dog clambered aboard
and perched on the sweet-cut saplings. The boatmen pushed back their hoods and poled into midstream.
Denis aimed his stick along the west bank, for the east was too steep to land a boat. Beside him, the dog
teetered on his one back leg and drooled overboard. The animal sniffed at the wind, bubbles in the
water, glooping fish, flecks of drifting grass. As the trail grew colder, Denis hollered so his saints might
better hear. "Saint Giles, be our friend! Saint Wenceslaus, the betrayed, guide us to the perpetrators of
--"
Denis prattled on as the bank slid by. Robin realized he was hungry. He'd missed his porridge and beer.
He heard Marian's stomach rumble and smiled at her. "Once this foolishness has run its course, we can
--"
The dog barked, twice, sharp, interrupting his master's reverie. Denis shook his head, stood upright in the
boat, almost tipping them all into the Witham. The stick quivered like a hunting dog's nose. "That way, by
Saint Paul! The heathens await!"
The boatmen stroked, bumped the muddy shore. Denis leapt out and splashed them all. His dog dove
like a seal, shed water from matted fur, scampered up the bank leaving three muddy footprints. Robin
hopped out, wetting his boots, caught a giggling Marian by her waist, and landed her dryshod. Peter and
Sheriff Martin slopped along behind.
Here the streets were narrower, the houses more tumbledown. Denis dilly-dallied like a drunkard, his
muddy dog at his heels. Priests and fishwives and masons, shabby and ragged, turned to watch the
parade. Around corners and down alleys they went, till they threaded a twisted shambles. The entourage
had to weave around garbage, ash heaps, bones, and the emptying of chamberpots. Robin noted people
here lurked in doorways and peeked from windows to satisfy their curiousity.
All along the dowser wailed his litany of saints until he was hoarse. Robin figured he'd run out of breath
soon, and they could drop this nonsense. It was obvious the sheriff's temper was fraying. He'd raised his
club for a halt when Denis stopped.
The house had once been large, with a solid stone lower floor, but a fire had gutted it and collapsed the
roof. A rotten door leaned in a warped frame.
Denis puffed, rested a hand on his dog's wet head, waved to indicate they'd arrived. The sheriff hoisted
his heavy club and rapped the crooked door. Nothing happened, though Robin thought he heard a rustle
inside. He realized they might suddenly come face-to-face with vicious murderers, and loosened his
staghorn knife in its sheath.
The sheriff raised a big shoe and kicked the door flat.
The interior stayed dark. The fallen door raised dust at the foot of -- a pale maiden in a ragged gown.
Barefoot, she crept closer to the light as if it pained her. Under her stringy hair, her face was lined and