"Lawhead,.Stephen.-.Celtic.Crusades.01.-.Iron.Lance" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lawhead Stephen)

Wary of revealing too much, Murdo replied, 'It is said Lord Orin is sailing for Jerusalem.'
'Aye, he goes with his king on pilgrimage.' The man regarded Murdo, looking him slowly up and down - as if placing a value on a beast of burden, and that value was not high. 'What is it to you, boy?'
The man was blunt, Murdo decided, but not malicious. 'I also am pledged to go to the Holy Land,' Murdo announced boldly. 'I have come to ask a place in his boat. I know about ships, and I can work. Also, I have a little silver; I can pay my way, if need be.'
'Can you now!' the man said, his mood lightening somewhat.
'I would thank you kindly if you could tell me where I might find Lord Orin - or his ship, at least.'
The dark-haired man drew himself up full height. He was a big full-fleshed man, and his shoulders were wide and strong. 'You come looking for Orin Broad-Foot, and you come to the right place,' he declared, 'but you come too late. He sailed two days ago on the morning tide.'
Murdo's heart sank, and he felt bleak futility descending over him. He thanked the man, turned away, and began walking back to where Peder waited with the boat.
'Pilgrim!' the man called after him. 'How much silver?'
Murdo turned, not certain he had heard correctly. 'What?'
'You have silver,' the Norseman said. 'How much?'
Murdo hesitated, uncertain what to answer. The seaman eyed him shrewdly, awaiting his reply. 'Ten - ten marks.'
'Bah!' the man said, flapping a huge hand at him. 'Go away, liar.'
'No, wait!' Murdo protested. 'It is true - I have ten marks.'
'Let me see it,' the man demanded.
Murdo, against his better judgement, reached into his shirt and tugged out the little leather bag. He started to untie it, but the Norseman snatched the bag from his fingers. 'Stop!' cried Murdo. 'Give it back!'
'If there is ten marks in here,' the rough seaman told him, 'you have nothing to fear. If there is more, or less, I keep the silver and cut out your tongue for a liar.'
Murdo, smouldering with rage, watched as the man opened the bag and poured the coins into his fist; he then counted them back into the bag one by one.
'Ten marks,' the Norseman confirmed.
'I am no liar,' Murdo told him. 'Now, give it back.'
'I thought you wanted to go to Jerusalem,' the seaman said, bouncing the purse on his palm. 'Ten marks pays your passage.'
Murdo, outraged at being robbed, and aghast at the audacity of the thief, sputtered in protest.
'Stay or go - the choice is yours, but it must be made quickly,' the Norseman told him. 'Skidbladnir is ready, and the tide is on to turning.'
Murdo regarded the ship: a goodly-sized vessel of the kind the Norsemen excelled at building - sleek and low, easily manoeuvred and fast; it could hold thirty fighting men. From where he stood, he could see that many of the rowing benches had been removed to accommodate the small mountain of cargo, and the tented platform behind the mast.
'I will go with you,' Murdo answered, making up his mind. 'But I will give you five marks only.'
'Impossible,' replied the seaman. 'Seven, or you stay behind.'
'Six,' countered Murdo confidently.
The Norseman hesitated, hefting the bag in his hand.
'The tide is running, and you are leaving,' Murdo pointed out. 'It is the last silver you will see until Jerusalem.'
'You are not so stupid, I think,' the Norseman allowed, extending his hand. 'Six marks it is.'
Murdo took the offered hand. 'Three marks now, and three when we reach Jerusalem.'
'Done!' said the Norseman. He counted out three marks and tossed the bag to Murdo.
'I must fetch my belongings,' Murdo said. Tucking the purse quickly out of sight, he started off along the bank.
'Here now!' The seaman called him back. 'If you are sailing on my ship, we can come to an understanding first.'
'Very well,' Murdo agreed.
'Hear me: I am King Magnus' man, and I am joining his fleet as soon as we quit this harbour. I will gladly cleave you crown to chin if you cause me trouble,' the seaman vowed, fondling the hilt of the very large knife in his belt. 'But just you stay out of trouble, and you will find me a most agreeable companion.' Crossing his arms over his chest, he said, 'This is my pledge to you. What is your pledge to me?'
'You will never have cause to raise your voice to me, much less your blade,' Murdo told him solemnly. 'I will cause you no trouble, and do as I am told. This I pledge you.'
'You'll do, boy!' The big man grinned suddenly, and Murdo saw that one of his lower front teeth was missing, and a fine, almost invisible scar creased his lip and chin, making his smile a wry, lop-sided, yet curiously compelling thing. Murdo smiled, too, in response, and felt his heart lift for the first time in many days.
'I am Jon Wing,' he said, clapping a huge hand to Murdo's back, 'and I mean to watch you like Odin's eagle.'
'Though you watch me night and day, you will find nothing you do not expect to see,' Murdo told him. 'I mean to make myself useful.'
'Be about it then,' Jon Wing said, and turned to the men on the bank and began calling commands. Turning back to Murdo he said, 'Well? Get on, boy! The tide is flowing, and we are away with it.'
Murdo raced along the top of the earthen bank to rejoin Peder, who was sitting on a stump, braiding the ends of a length of rope. He hailed the old seaman, and hastened to explain. 'The king has already sailed,' he said, 'but one of his men is still in harbour. The ship is called Skidbladnir, and the master has agreed to take me.'
Peder nodded. 'A good name for a ship. When do you sail?'
'On the tide,' Murdo answered.
'Then farewell it is,' Peder replied, rising from the stump. Descending the bank and climbing into the boat, he stooped and hefted up the bundle Murdo had left behind. 'Here now,' he said, passing the bundle to Murdo over the side. 'As the tide is running, I will be going myself. Give us a push, Master Murdo, and I am away.'
Murdo untied the rope from the stump, coiled it quickly, and tossed it into the boat. Then, he put his shoulder to the prow and shoved the boat away as Peder settled himself at the oars. Murdo called farewell, and watched the old seaman work the oars, turning the boat with deft, efficient strokes.
'Tell my mother the journey is well begun,' Murdo called. 'Take care of her, Peder. See she does not worry overmuch.'
'Oh, aye,' vowed the old helmsman. 'Never fear. Just you keep a sharp weather eye, lad.'
'That I will,' answered Murdo, not wanting to take his eyes off Peder or the boat until both were out of sight. A long, rising whistle from the direction of Jon Wing's ship called him away, however, and Murdo took up his bundle and ran to secure his place aboard the waiting ship. Four rowers, long oars in hand, pushed the craft away from the bank as Murdo clambered over the rail.
He found a place among the rowers, took up an oar from the holder, and settled himself on his bench. He fell into the easy rhythm of rowing and watched the settlement of Inbhir Ness slip slowly away as the ship moved out onto the estuary.
Murdo saw Peder again a little while later as the ship entered the wider water of the firth. Murdo called across the water and exchanged a last farewell with the old pilot as the larger ship overtook the smaller. A short while later, Skidbladnir turned, heading east along the coast, and the Orkney boat continued its northerly course. A small square of buff-coloured sail was the last Murdo saw of the boat and its lone occupant. He then turned his face to the dragonheaded prow and looked out on seas and lands unknown to him - merely the first of many he would gaze upon in the days to come.