"Simon Hawke - Time Wars 01 - The Ivanhoe Gambit" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hawke Simon)

populace. Lucas recalled that the Romans had done much the same sort of thing. If you kept taxing the
pants off the people, they were bound to get a bit annoyed, so it helped to take their minds off their
troubles every now and then by putting on a show. The Romans had their circuses, the Normans had
their jousts. Plus ca change, plus c'est la mime chose.
 They held a council in the morning to outline their plans. So far as either of them knew, Ivanhoe and
the outlawed Baron of Locksley had never met, although they would know each other's names.
Therefore, they had no need to get their stories straight. They decided to arrange a meeting later and the
tournament seemed ideal for that purpose. They agreed to meet at Ashby and went their separate ways
with no little reluctance. The journey could have been longer for his liking, but Lucas eventually found
himself approaching Ashby, where the crowd was already gathering in anticipation of the tournament.
Lucas put on his gear and donned his helmet, instructing Hooker to put on his hooded robe. He was not
quite ready yet to meet anyone who knew Wilfred of Ivanhoe.
The galleries were all set up, as were the lists, which were nothing more than several fences running
parallel to each other, forming tracks down which knights would hurtle toward each other from opposite
ends, colliding as they passed. The battleground was in a small valley with the stands erected on a rise, a
little hill that would afford the spectators an unobstructed view of the proceedings. On either side of the
small valley, pavilions had been erected: tents with pennants flying from their peaks, the colors identifying
the knights who occupied them. Some of these pavilions matched the colors of their pennants, revealing
which of the knights were among the more well-to-do. As was the custom, one side of the field had been
assigned to the hostsтАФor the home team as Lucas thought of themтАФthe other to the challengers or
visitors. Lucas had the purse which Wilfred had obtained by mugging some poor priest, so he gave it to
Hooker and sent him off with instructions to secure a pavilion for themselves. "Make sure it's one of the
cheaper ones," he said. "It's still early in the game and it wouldn't hurt to economize." When Hooker
returned, he told him that they had a pavilion at the far end of the valley, out of the way of the center of
activity, but close enough to enable them to observe the goings-on from within its shelter.
"Good enough, squire Poignard," said Lucas. "Let's go. Oh, and pick up a couple of those chickens
that vendor's cooking over there. No point to jousting on an empty stomach."

Lucas stood just inside the tent flap, munching on a drumstick and watching the opening ceremonies.
Hooker had collared one of the local lads and for a small price, they had a play-by-play announcer. Or
blow-by-blow, as the case may be, thought Lucas. Under the circumstances, it was not an unusual thing
for a knight to do. It was a large tournament and there were competitors present from all over the
country. It was entirely within reason that a stranger to the land, especially one who had come from far
away, would not be familiar with all the colors and heraldic devices. Lucas sat down on a crude wooden
cot inside the tent, in a position so that he could see outside, yet at the same time appear to be resting for
the time when his turn came. Hooker stood just outside with the boy, a youngster of about twelve who
seemed to know everyone concerned, just as a modern kid would know all the players in his favorite
sport.
"Describe everything to me in detail," Lucas told the lad. "I wish to close my eyes and rest awhile."
Then, while the boy stood outside and described what was happening in great detail, just as he was
told, Lucas shifted his position so that he could see clearly everything the boy described. He could be
forgiven for not recognizing all the colors, but it would look a little strange if he did not know any of them.
It was nearing midday and all things were in readiness to begin the tournament. It could have started
hours ago, save for the fact that it was necessary to wait for the arrival of the nobility, who showed up in
dribs and drabs, each delaying their arrival by a degree of lateness according to the positions they fancied
themselves to hold in the social pecking order. Lord Bluenose couldn't possibly arrive at his seat before
the Earl of High and Mighty. Finally, everyone was seated except for the prince and his retinue. They
arrived with many fanfares from the trumpets, which sounded too much to Lucas like the braying of
Hannibal's elephants. He was not, in the least concerned about the passage at arms. Having been
charged by a bull elephant, Lucas felt that an armored knight on horseback seemed rather tame by