"Katherine Kurtz - Heirs 03 - Bastard Prince" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kurtz Katherine)

"Aye, my lady?"
"Did my husband's battle surgeon come back from Culliecairn?"
"He did, my lady." Murray was instructing the two messengers about to leave for Rhemuth, and
looked like he, too, could use the surgeon's servicesтАФor at least a woman's handsтАФto clean and
bind his wounds. "He's already working on some men o'er in the stable entrance."
"Well, have him move everything and everybody into the great hall as soon as he can. I want
some order to this."
"Right away, my lady."
As she turned to deal with her daughter, she saw that Stacia, too, had rallied to necessity and
training and was tearfully entrusting her baby to Murray's eldest daughter, with instructions to
take the bairn upstairs to her bower and stay out of the way.
"I have to be strong now, for my da," Stacia told her mother tremulously, lifting her chin and
wiping away her tears on the edge of a sleeve. "He raised me tae be his heir. He'd be shamed if he
thought I couldnae take care o' his menтАФof my men."
In the din of milling horses and clanking armor and shouting and moaning men, the two made a
tiny island of calm as, arms around one another's waists, they began to head purposefully toward
the great hall. Behind them, the messengers chosen to carry word to Rhemuth swung up on fresh
mounts and galloped out the castle gates.

chapter one

Therefore pride compasseth them about as a chain; violence covereth them as a garment.
тАФPsalms 73:6

The Eastmarch messengers exhausted a succession of mounts in the days that followed, galloping
into Gwynedd's capital less than a week after the taking of Culliecairn. Almost incoherent with
exhaustion, the pair made their initial report to a hastily gathered handful of Gwynedd's royal
ministers, then were whisked away for further interrogation in private by Lord Albertus, the Earl
Marshal, and certain members of his staff. The king was told of their news, but was not invited to
join the impromptu meeting now in progress in Gwynedd's council chamber.
"Aside from the military implications, this is going to raise certain practical complications,"
Rhun of Sheele said, sour and suspicious as he sat back in his chair. "For one thing, the king is
going to want to go."
Lord Tammaron Fitz-Arthur nodded patiently. As Chancellor of Gwynedd, it was his duty to
preside over meetings of the king's council when the king was not presentтАФand in fact, he presided
even when the king was present-тАФbut formalities hardly seemed necessary with only four of them
seated around the long table.
"Of course he'll want to go," Tammaron said. "It's only natural that he should wish to do
soтАФand were the decision up to him, there would be no question. There's a risk involved, of
course. Not only might he be killed, but he might be tempted to assert his independence. However,
I believe that both possibilities pale beside the very real prospect that this is the challenge
we've been hoping to postpone."
At Tammaron's right, quietly imposing in his robes of episcopal purple, Archbishop Hubert
MacInnis nodded his agreement, one pudgy hand caressing the jeweled cross on his ample breast.
Those who did not know him well saw what he wanted them to see: an affable if oversized cherub,
ostensibly godly and devout, rosy face framed by fine blond hair cut short and tonsured in the


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