"George R. R. Martin - A Song of Ice and Fire 0.1 - The Hedge Knight" - читать интересную книгу автора (Martin George R R) To the north of the meadow flowed the river Cockleswent, a vassal stream to the mighty Mander. Beyond the shallow ford lay town and castle. Dunk had seen many a market town during his journeys with the old man. This was prettier than most; the whitewashed houses with their thatched roofs had an inviting aspect to them. When he was smaller, he used to wonder what it would be like to live in such a place; to sleep every night with a roof over your head, and wake every morning with the same walls wrapped around you. It may be that soon IТll know. Aye, and Egg too. It could happen. Stranger things happened every day.
Ashford Castle was a stone structure built in the shape of a triangle, with round towers rising thirty feet tall at each point and thick crenellated walls running between. Orange banners flew from its battlements, displaying the white sun-and-chevron sigil of its lord. Men-at-arms in orange-and-white livery stood outside the gates with halberds, watching people come and go, seemingly more intent on joking with a pretty milkmaid than in keeping anyone out. Dunk reined up in front of the short, bearded man he took for their captain and asked for the master of the games. УItТs Plummer you want, heТs steward here. IТll show you.Ф Inside the yard, a stableboy took Sweetfoot for him. Dunk slung Ser ArlanТs battered shield over a shoulder and followed the guards captain back of the stables to a turret built into an angle of the curtain wall. Steep stone steps led up to the wallwalk. УCome to enter your masterТs name for the lists?Ф the captain asked as they climbed. УItТs my own name IТll be putting in.Ф УIs it now?Ф Was the man smirking? Dunk was not certain. УThat door there. IТll leave you to it and get back to my post.Ф When Dunk pushed open the door, the steward was sitting at a trestle table, scratching on a piece of parchment with a quill. He had thinning grey hair and a narrow pinched face. УYes?Ф he said, looking up. УWhat do you want, man?Ф Dunk pulled shut the door. УAre you Plummer the steward? I came for the tourney. To enter the lists.Ф Plummer pursed his lips. УMy lordТs tourney is a contest for knights. Are you a knight?Ф He nodded, wondering if his ears were red. УA knight with a name, mayhaps?Ф УDunk.Ф Why had he said that? УSer Duncan. The Tall.Ф УAnd Where might you be from, Ser Duncan the Tall?Ф УEveryplace. I was squire to Ser Arlan of Pennytree since I was five or six. This is his shield.Ф He showed it to the steward. УHe was coming to the tourney, but he caught a chill and died, so I came in his stead. He knighted me before he passed, with his own sword.Ф Dunk drew the longsword and laid it on the scarred wooden table between them. The master of the lists gave the blade no more than a glance. УA sword it is, for a certainty. I have never heard of this Arlan of Pennytree, however. You were his squire, you say?Ф УHe always said he meant for me to be a knight, as he was. When he was dying he called for his longsword and bade me kneel. He touched me once on my right shoulder and once on my left, and said some words, and when I got up he said I was a knight.Ф УHmpf.Ф The man Plummer rubbed his nose. УAny knight can make a knight, it is true, though it is more customary to stand a vigil and be anointed by a septon before taking your vows. Were there any witnesses to your dubbing?Ф УOnly a robin, up in a thorn tree. I heard it as the old man was saying the words. He charged me to be a good knight and true, to obey the seven gods, defend the weak and innocent, serve my lord faithfully and defend the realm with all my might, and I swore that I would.Ф УNo doubt.Ф Plummer did not deign to call him ser, Dunk could not help but notice. УI shall need to consult with Lord Ashford. Will you or your late master be known to any of the good knights here assembled?Ф Dunk thought a moment. УThere was a pavilion flying the banner of House Dondarrion? The black, with purple lightning?Ф УThat would be Ser Manfred, of that House.Ф УSer Arlan served his lord father in Dorne, three years past. Ser Manfred might remember me.Ф УI would advise you to speak to him. If he will vouch for you, bring him here with you on the morrow, at this same time. УAs you say, mТlord.Ф He started for the door. УSer Duncan,Ф the steward called after him. УYou are aware,Ф the man said, Уthat those vanquished in tourney forfeit their arms, armor, and horse to the victors, and must needs ransom them back?Ф УI know.Ф УAnd do you have the coin to pay such ransom?Ф Now he knew his ears were red. УI wonТt have need of coin,Ф he said, praying it was true. All I need is one victory. If I win my first tilt, IТll have the loserТs armor and horse, or his gold, and I can stand a loss myself He walked slowly down the steps, reluctant to get on with what he must do next. In the yard, he collared one of the stableboys. УI must speak with Lord AshfordТs master of horse.Ф УIТll find him for you.Ф It was cool and dim in the stables. An unruly grey stallion snapped at him as he passed, but Sweetfoot only whickered softly and nuzzled his hand when he raised it to her nose. УYouТre a good girl, arenТt you?Ф he murmured. The old man always said that a knight should never love a horse, since more than a few were like to die under him, but he never heeded his own counsel either. Dunk had often seen him spend his last copper on an apple for old Chestnut or some oats for Sweetfoot and Thunder. The palfrey had been Ser ArlanТs riding horse, and she had borne him tirelessly over thousands of miles, all up and down the Seven Kingdoms. Dunk felt as though he were betraying an old friend, but what choice did he have? Chestnut was too old to be worth much of anything, and Thunder must carry him in the lists. Some time passed before the master of horse deigned to appear. As he waited, Dunk heard a blare of trumpets from the walls, and a voice in the yard. Curious, he led Sweetfoot to the stable door to see what was happening. A large party of knights and mounted archers poured through the gates, a hundred men at least, riding some of the most splendid horses that Dunk had ever seen. Some great lord has come. He grabbed the arm of a stableboy as he ran past. УWho are they?Ф The boy looked at him queerly. УCanТt you see the banners?Ф He wrenched free and hurried off. The banners... As Dunk turned his head, a gust of wind lifted the black silk pennon atop the tall staff, and the fierce three-headed dragon of House Targaryen seemed to spread its wings, breathing scarlet fire. The banner-bearer was a tall knight in white scale armor chased with gold, a pure white cloak streaming from his shoulders. Two of the other riders were armored in white from head to heel as well. Kingsguard knights with the royal banner. Small wonder Lord Ashford and his sons came hurrying out the doors of the keep, and the fair maid too, a short girl with yellow hair and a round pink face. She does not seem so fair to me, Dunk thought. The puppet girl was prettier. УBoy, let go of that nag and see to my horse.Ф A rider had dismounted in front of the stables. He is talking to me, Dunk realized. УI am not a stableboy, mТlord.Ф УNot clever enough?Ф The speaker wore a black cloak bordered in scarlet satin, but underneath was raiment bright as flame, all reds and yellows and golds. Slim and straight as a dirk, though only of middling height, he was near DunkТs own age. Curls of silver-gold hair framed a face sculpted and imperious; high brow and sharp cheekbones, straight nose, pale smooth skin without blemish. His eyes were a deep violet color. УIf you cannot manage a horse, fetch me some wine and a pretty wench.Ф УI. . . mТlord, pardons, IТm no serving man either. I have the honor to be a knight.Ф УKnighthood has fallen on sad days,Ф said the princeling, but then one of the stableboys came rushing up, and he turned away to hand him the reins of his palfrey, a splendid blood bay. Dunk was forgotten in an instant. Relieved, he slunk back inside the stables to wait for the master of horse. He felt ill-at-ease enough around the lords in their pavilions, he had no business speaking to princes. That the beautiful stripling was a prince he had no doubt. The Targaryens were the blood of lost Valyria across the seas, and their silver-gold hair and violet eyes set them apart from common men. Dunk knew Prince Baelor was older, but the youth might well have been one of his sons: Valarr, who was often called Уthe Young PrinceФ to set him apart from his father, or Matarys, Уthe Even Younger Prince,Ф as old Lord SwannТs fool had named him once. There were other princelings as well, cousins to Valarr and Matarys. Good King Daeron had four grown sons, three with sons of their own. The line of the dragonkings had almost died out during his fatherТs day, but it was commonly said that Daeron II and his sons had left it secure for all time. УYou. Man. You asked for me.Ф Lord AshfordТs master of horse had a red face made redder by his orange livery, and a brusque manner of speaking. УWhat is it? I have no time forЧФ УI want to sell this palfrey,Ф Dunk broke in quickly, before the man could dismiss him. УSheТs a good horse, sure of footЧФ УI have no time, I tell you.Ф The man gave Sweetfoot no more than a glance. УMy lord of Ashford has no need of such. Take her to the town, perhaps Henly will give you a silver or three.Ф That quick, he was turning away. УThank you, mТlord,Ф Dunk said before he could go. УMТlord, has the king come?Ф The master of horse laughed at him. УNo, thank the gods. This infestation of princes is trial enough. Where am I going to find the stalls for all these animals? And fodder?Ф He strode off shouting at his stableboys. By the time Dunk left the stable, Lord Ashford had escorted his princely guests into the hail, but two of the Kingsguard knights in their white armor and snowy cloaks still lingered in the yard, talking with the captain of the guard. Dunk halted before them. УMТlords, I am Ser Duncan the Tall.Ф УWell met, Ser Duncan,Ф answered the bigger of the white knights. УI am Ser Roland Crakehall, and this is my Sworn Brother, Ser Donnel of Duskendale.Ф The seven champions of the Kingsguard were the most puissant warriors in all the Seven Kingdoms, saving only perhaps the crown prince, Baelor Breakspear himself. УHave you come to enter the lists?Ф Dunk asked anxiously. |
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