"Juliet Marillier - Wolfskin 1 - Wolfskin" - читать интересную книгу автора (Marillier Juliet)

cutthroats one night when traveling home from the drinking hall. Niall had on him a purse of silver, with
which he planned to buy a fine horse, and ride away to present himself to the Jarl's court. He was not
eager to give up his small hoard and his chance to make something of himself, for Niall, like many another
young farmer's son, was not rich in lands or worldly possessions. He had worked hard for his silver. So
he fought with hands and feet and the small knife that was the only weapon he bore; he fought with all his
strength and all his will, and he called on Thor for help from the bottom of his lungs. It was a one-sided
struggle, for there were six attackers armed with clubs and sharpened stakes. Niall felt his ribs crack
under boot thrusts and his skull ring with blow on blow; his sight grew dim, he saw the night world
through a red haze. It occurred to him, through a rising tide of unconsciousness, that this was not a good
way to die, snuffed out by scum for a prize they would squabble over and waste and forget, as he himself
would be forgotten soon enough. Still he struggled against them, for the will to live burned in him like a
small, bright flame.

"Then, abruptly, the kicking stopped. The hands that had gripped his throat, squeezing without mercy,
slackened and dropped away. There was a sound of furious activity around him, grunts and oaths,
scuffling and a sudden shriek of pain, then retreating footsteps, and silence.

"An arm lifted him up. Odin's bones, every part of his body ached. But he was alive. After all, the gods
had not forgotten him.

" 'Slowly, slowly, man,' the voice of his rescuer said. 'Here, lean on me.

We'd best make our way back to the drinking hall; you're in no fit state to go farther.'

"The man who had saved Niall's life was young, broad, and big-fisted. Still, there was only one of him.

" 'How did you do that?' Niall gasped. 'How did youтАФ'

"The stranger chuckled. 'I'm a warrior, friend, and I keep a weapon or two about me. Thor calls; I
answer. Just as well he called tonight, or your last breath would be gone from your body by now. My
name's Brynjolf. Who are you?'

"Niall told him, and later, when his wounds were dressed and the two men were sharing a jug of good ale
by the fire, he explained to Brynjolf his plans to present himself to the Jarl, and seek a place in his
household.

" 'But my money is gone,' Niall said ruefully. 'My silver, all that I had savedтАФthose ruffians took it. Now
I have nothing.'

" 'You have a friend,' Brynjolf grinned. 'AndтАФlet me seeтАФperhaps not all is lost.' He made a play of
hunting here and there, in his pockets, in his small knapsack, in the folds of his cloak, until at length, 'Ah,'
he exclaimed, and drew out the goatskin pouch that held Niall's carefully hoarded silver. Brynjolf shook
it, and it jingled. 'This is yours, I think.'

"Niall took the pouch wordlessly. He did not look inside, or count the money.

" 'You wonder why I did not simply keep this?' Brynjolf queried. 'When I said you had a friend, I spoke
the truth. Let us travel on together. I will teach you a trick or two, for a man with such scant resources
will not get far beyond the safe boundaries of the home farm, unless he learns to defend himself.'