"Roland Green - Conan at the Demon's Gate" - читать интересную книгу автора (Green Roland)

mercenaries) and my sergeants as I did myself.

Barring ill luck, no bad reports would return to this fellows master. If ill

luck did come, nothing and no one would return from the wilderness at all.

Moreover, this man looked to be a worthy addition to our ranks. I judged he

might have had Gunderman, or even Cimmerian, blood himself, from his height and

breadth of shoulder. I could not see his hair under a rain-sodden hood, nor his

eyes clearly in the dim lamplight of my hut.

The mail I glimpsed at his wrists seemed well-wrought, though, the sword and

dagger on his belt were both for use rather than show, and his riding clothes

had seen long journeys if not hard fighting. None of these would keep a Pictish

arrow from his gizzard if his luck was not in, but they showed he did not trust

altogether to luck. Such a man knew the first lesson of border warfare, and so
might live to learn others.

"You will be welcome. Make haste, though. If we march swiftly enough, we may

catch some of the woodsrunners' hunting parties. No Pict is ever easy prey, but

one with an empty belly gives honest men a fighting chance."

As a toast to his safe journey and good hunting afterward, we drank the last

wine fit to offer a guest. My second sergeant saw him to his horse while the

first and third turned out the men.

***

Battlements of thundercloud rose to the west the morning we at last found the

Picts, or they found us.

They found us at a disadvantage, because we were a watering party of twenty. I

led, because it was my turn, and Sarabos of the Black Dragons came because he

wished it. I did not wish to have two leaders away from the camp at the same

time, but one could argue that Sarabos had no real rank.