"Up the Wall" - читать интересную книгу автора (Friesner Esther M)

"I heard that!" Junius called. "And when the commander finds out_"
"Junie, love, why don't you go nail your balls to a board?" Marcus Septimus remarked over-sweetly.
Caius patted the former secretary on the back. "You know. Marc, old dear, you're not a bad sort for a catamite."
The barbarian directed his helpers to pitch camp, which they did in swift, efficient, legion fashion. Despite their internal bickerings, proper training made them work well together. Even Marcus did not manage to get too badly underfoot. When the lone tent was pitched and dinner on the boil, Caius flopped down on the damp ground without further ceremony.
"Oh, me aching back! Mithra knows how many friggin' milia pasuum we've covered, and for what? Just so's we'd be on time to be ate tomorrow morning!"
A gaunt shadow fell across his closed eyes. "Get up, Caius Lucius Piso," Junius said, using the tip of his foot to put some muscle behind the order. "The food is ready and we can't find Ursus anywhere."
"Can't we now?" Caius did not bother to open his eyes. "Here's me heart, bleeding like a stuck pig over the news. Run off, has he? Jupiter, I never figured the big ox to have a fraction so much sense as that. Commander shouldn't've paid him in advance."
"He was paid nothing." Junius' words were as dry as Goewin's onion tart. "Nor has he run off. Ursus is a hero."
"Says who? Himself?"
Junius tucked his hands tightly into the crooks of his elbows. "Our commander is not without his sources of information, nor would he engage such an important hireling blind. He heard nothing but the most sterling reports of our man's prowess at disposing of supernumerary monsters. Granted, the fellow's one of those Ultima Thule types who hails from where they've the better part of the year to work on polishing their lies for the spring trade, but even discounting a third of what they say he's done_"
Caius made that blatting sound again.
"In any case, our noble commander is not the sort to make a bad bargain, and were he to hear you so much as implying that he might, he would_"
"Yes, yes, I know, crucify me." Caius forced himself to stand. "I'll go fetch 'im, then, before you get yer hands all over calluses from nailing me up."
Caius didn't have far to go before he found his temporary leader. The barbarian squatted on a little hummock of high ground overlooking the fen, his sword jammed into a large, moldy-looking log some short distance away. His helmet was off, propped upside-down between his ankles, and his left hand kept dipping into it, then traveling to his mouth. Caius smelled a penetrating sweetness above the fetid reek of the marshland.
"Hail, heart-strong helper!" Ursus beamed at the little Roman. Viscous golden brown strands dripped from his beard and moustache.
"Hail yerself," Caius replied. He sauntered up the hummock and scrooched down beside the barbarian. "Got something good, have we?" He peered into the upended helm.
Ursus nodded cheerfully, his expression miraculously purged of any bloodlust. He jerked one thumb at the log, while with the other hand he shoved the helmet at Caius.
"Hollow this harvest's home,
Fallen the forest friend
Ages ago, several seasons spent.
Rotten and rent, core and root,
Toppled to turf the tall tree.
Gilded the gliding gladiators,
Plying their pleasant pastime,
Sweetness sun-gold instilling,
Honey they heap in hives.
Noisy their nest they name,
Daring and daunting dastards,
Stabbing with stings to startle
Thieves that their treasure try taking.
Came then the conquering caller,
Scorning their scabrous squabbles,
Their dire drones disdaining,
Helping himself to honey.
Right were the runes they wrought
When saw he first the sunlight,
Bidding the birthed boy Bee-wolf
Never another name know."
"Boy? Who gave birth to what boy hereabouts?" Caius' eyes darted about suspiciously.
The barbarian struck his own chest a fearsome thump.
"Oh." Caius dipped into the honey. Through gummy lips he added, "Going on about yerself, then, were you?"
The barbarian bobbed his head eagerly.
"Nice bit o' puffery, that. Bee-wolf, eh? That'd be yer common or garden variety bear, ain't it? So that's why Junie stuck you with Ursus, leave it to him not to have more imagination than a badger's bottom. Kind of a circumlocutionariatory way to go about naming a sprat, don't ask me why you'd want yer kid associated in decent folks' minds with a horrid great smelly beast what hasn't the brains of a turnip, though it does make for a tasty stew, especially with a turnip or two, gods know I hope you didn't smell like one from the minute you were born_a bear, I mean, not a turnip; nor a stew_but you can't bloody tell about foreigners, now can you? Never one word where twenty'll do, no offense taken, I hope?"
Bee-wolf nodded, still grinning. His find of wild honey had sweetened his temper amazingly well.
" 'Course, not that a name like that don't have its poetry to it, mate. A man needs a bit of poetry in his life now and again." Caius chewed up a fat hunk of waxy comb and spat dead bees into the fen with casual accuracy. " 'Mongst my Goewin's folk_Goewin's the jabbery little woman you came near to filleting with yer dagger_they keep a whole stable of bards plumped up just to natter on about how this chief slew that one and made off with his cattle. It's a wonder to me the poor beasties have a bit o' flesh left on their bones, the way those mad Celts keep peaching 'em back and forth, forth and back, always on the move. Savagery, I call it; not like us Romans. Compassionate, we are_one of the refinements of civilization. Cruelty to dumb brutes makes me want to spew."
Caius leaned forward, encouraged to this intimacy by the barbarian's continued calm. "Now if it were up to me," he confided, "I'd leave this poor soddin' dragon alone, I would. Live and let live, I say_that's the civilized way to go about it. It's not as though he's ate up more'nfive of our men, after all, and we've just got guesses to go by even for that. Only one witness ever come back to tell us it were the dragon for certain as ate 'em, or even was they ate, and that man was our signifer Drusus Llyr, what no one knew his parents was first cousins 'til it was too late, and he died stark bonkers that very night. You want me considered opinion, them fellers went over the Wall, they did, fed up to their gizzards with the commander and the whole glorious Ninth fucking Legion." He drew a deep sigh. "Can't say as I blame 'em. Can't even rightly say as I wouldn't do the same."
Ursus looked puzzled.
"Came the commander's call.
Summoning my sword to serve him.
Nobly the Ninth he named,