"Nancy Kress - Stalking Beans" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kress Nancy)

I should know better. Instead, Maria gives me her
mocking smile, rich with satisfaction. "Ah, but that would
spoil everything. One always does most stylishly the things
one cares nothing about. Don't you even know that, you
ignorant boy?"
In another moment she's asleep.
I get out of her bed and start for the door. But in the
corridor I stop.
I have never explored the rest of the castle. What I
wantedтАФthe careless mocking smile, the voluptuous body,
the instant dismissive sleepтАФwere in this room, the room I
stumbled into on my first journey But now I walk down
the stone passageway and open a second door.
And am staggered.
He must be gargantuan, different from Maria not just in
degree but in kind, as she is not from me. The bed
stretches the length of my father's tiltyard. An oaken chest
could serve for my cow byre. How can Maria, lying in that
enormous bed, be large enough toтАж I don't want to know.
Whatever they do, it certainly hasn't soured her for
bedding.
I have already turned to leave when I catch the glint of
gold beneath the bed.
There is a pile of coinsтАФnot on his scale, but on mine.
Human coins. They look small there, unimportant, and
maybe that is why I only take three. Or maybe it's from
shame, having already taken from him so much else that he
doesn't know about. Or maybe it's neither of these things,
but only my sense of justice: I only need three to pay the
tax collector. Justice is one of those things that separate me
from such as Lord Randall. I am still an honorable man.
As I leave the room, I hear a harp begin to play, light
and mocking as Maria's laugh.


Annie is in the yard beside her washpot, stirring hard.
Steam rises in smelly clouds. All over the bushes and lines
and the rough-hewn wooden bench I made for her are
clothes I don't recognize" tunics and leggings and shifts
too fine for our neighbors but not fine enough for Lord
Randall and his thieving sons. Annie looks up, pushes her
damp hair off her forehead, and smiles through exhaustion.
"What are you doing? Who do these things belong to?"
I thunder at her.
Her smile disappears. "To the servants at the castle. I
took them to wash. If I can do eight pots every day I can
earnтАФ"
"You'll earn nothing!" I shout. "Do you think I want my
wife to be a washerwoman! You, who should have been
Lady Anne? How much do you think you can make me