"Keith Laumer - Retief !" - читать интересную книгу автора (Laumer Keith)

David Drake
david-drake.com

Note: This essay is closely based on one I did for Keith in 1990. I had to change references to
Keith to past tense. Nothing about international diplomacy has changed. Unfortunately.
D.A.D.
тАФDavid Drake is a sweet and lovable man who has dogs, cats, a wife, and one
son. Among his published works are the Hammer's Slammers series of military
science fiction and a number of novels using his background in the classics and
his interest in ancient Rome. He has been a fan of Keith Laumer's work since
1959.
 PART I: IN THE END
Editor's Note: "Diplomat-at-Arms" is the very first Retief story that Laumer ever
wrote, and depicts Retief as an old man toward the end of his career. It has a very
different tone and feel from any of the other Retief stories. It's a matter of taste, of
course, but this is my personal favorite of all of them.


DIPLOMAT-AT-ARMS
The cold white sun of Northroyal glared on pale dust and vivid colors in the narrow raucous
street. Retief rode slowly, unconscious of the huckster's shouts, the kaleidoscope of smells, the
noisy milling crowd. His thoughts were on events of long ago on distant worlds; thoughts that set
his features in narrow-eyed grimness. His bony, powerful horse, unguided, picked his way
carefully, with flaring nostrils, wary eyes alert in the turmoil.
The mount sidestepped a darting gamin and Retief leaned forward, patted the sleek neck. The
job had some compensations, he thought; it was good to sit on a fine horse again, to shed the gray
business suitтАФ
A dirty-faced man pushed a fruit cart almost under the animal's head; the horse shied,
knocked over the cart. At once a muttering crowd began to gather around the heavy-shouldered
gray-haired man. He reined in and sat scowling, an ancient brown cape over his shoulders, a
covered buckler slung at the side of the worn saddle, a scarred silver-worked claymore strapped
across his back in the old cavalier fashion.
Retief hadn't liked this job when he had first learned of it. He had gone alone on madman's
errands before, but that had been long agoтАФa phase of his career that should have been finished.
And the information he had turned up in his background research had broken his professional
detachment. Now the locals were trying an old tourist game on him; ease the outlander into a
spot, then demand money . . .
Well, Retief thought, this was as good a time as any to start playing the role; there was a hell
of a lot here in the quaint city of Fragonard that needed straightening out.
***
"Make way, you rabble!" he roared suddenly. "Or by the chains of the sea-god I'll make a
path through you!" He spurred the horse; neck arching, the mount stepped daintily forward.
The crowd made way reluctantly before him. "Pay for the merchandise you've destroyed,"
called a voice.
 "Let peddlers keep a wary eye for their betters," snorted the man loudly, his eye roving over
the faces before him. A tall fellow with long yellow hair stepped squarely into his path.
"There are no rabble or peddlers here," he said angrily. "Only true cavaliers of the Clan
Imperial . . ."
The mounted man leaned from his saddle to stare into the eyes of the other. His seamed
brown face radiated scorn. "When did a true Cavalier turn to commerce? If you were trained to