"Katherine Kurtz - Camber 3 - Camber the Heretic" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kurtz Katherine)

After Dolban had come a succession of other shrinesтАФHanfell and
Warringham and Haut Vermelior and a dozen other places whose names
Camber had no wish to remember. Defender of Humankind Saint Camber had
become, and Kingmaker, and Patron of Deryni Magic, as well, though the latter
was not so widely touted lately, as anti-Deryni sentiment became more widely
espoused by the humans surrounding Cinhil's dying court. Camber knew it all
to be based upon a lie.
"Your Grace?" the sergeant asked, breaking into his reverie. "Your Grace, is
anything wrong?"
"No, no, nothing is wrong. I was just thinking about Camber. I reallyтАФ"
He broke off as the drum of hoofbeats and whoops of raucous laughter
suddenly intruded in the dusky silence. By the commotion, at least a dozen
horsemen were approaching from beyond the next curve, and fast.
Simultaneously, he was aware of Joram already taking stock of the situation
and estimating the oddsтАФthough it was obvious that they would be greatly
outnumbered, if it came to a physical confrontation.
Frowning, Camber reined his grey to the left and signalled Joram and the
guards to do the same, though all of them kept riding slowly in the direction
they had been going. In the face of such a situation, they must proceed as if
nothing were amiss, as if they had as much right to be on this road as did those
approaching. He fervently hoped that there would be no trouble, for they must
get back to Cinhil!
All at once the approaching riders burst into view from around the curve and
thundered into the long, straight stretch, riding at a reckless gallop. They were
no soldiers тАФtheir bright, multicolored clothing proclaimed that at a glance, as
did their lack of discipline as they rode. Bright caps, some of them with plumes
and jewels, shone on most of their heads, a few of them banded with fillets that
looked almost like coronets, and might have been. Velvets and furs on cloak
and sleeve and saddle trappings glowed in the waning light, swords and
daggers flashing at every hip. A few of the riders brandished swords in gloved
fists.
They laughed raucously as they approached, their guffaws and shouted
comments becoming more ribald as they noticed the somber little band
proceeding toward them. In a flurry of movement, they nearly surrounded
Camber and his party, their fine horses jostling the more ordinary mounts of
the four guards and making Camber and Joram's greys lay back their ears in
protest.
"Give way, my lords!" Joram shouted, flinging his mantle back from his
sword arm and laying a gloved hand on the pommel of his weapon. "We would
not dispute the road with you. Observe the King's Peace!"
"Why, 'tis a lone Michaeline knight!" one of the young toughs sang, to hoots
of derisive laughter from a handful of his colleagues.
"One Michaeline and an old man and a few paltry guards to stand against all
of us?" shouted another. "Let's dump them off their horses and let them walk
like the last ones!"
As one man, Joram and the four guards drew steel, though they did no more
than hold their weapons at the ready. Camber still had not reached toward the
sword at his kneeтАФcalmly sat his horse and surveyed the surrounding riders
with grim expression, but without apparent alarm, forearms resting casually on
the high pommel, the reins held easily in one gloved hand.