"George R. R. Martin - Ice and Fire 0 - The Hedge Knight" - читать интересную книгу автора (Martin George R R)

lead; Dunk decided that a copper penny might cheer him. тАЬHere, lad, for your help.тАЭ He flipped the coin
down at him with a smile, but the stableboy made no attempt to catch it. It fell in the dirt between his
bare feet, and there he let it lie.

HeтАЩll scoop it up as soon as I am gone, Dunk told himself. He turned the palfrey and rode from the inn,
leading the other two horses. The trees were bright with moonlight, and the sky was cloudless and
speckled with stars. Yet as he headed down the road he could feel the stableboy watching his back,
sullen and silent.


The shadows of the afternoon were growing long when Dunk reined up on the edge of broad Ashford
Meadow. Three score pavilions had already risen on the grassy field. Some were small, some large;
some square, some round; some of sailcloth, some of linen, some of silk; but all were brightly colored,
with long banners streaming from their center poles, brighter than a field of wildflowers with rich reds
and sunny yellows, countless shades of green and blue, deep blacks and greys and purples.

The old man had ridden with some of these knights; others Dunk knew from tales told in common rooms
and round campfires. Though he had never learned the magic of reading or writing, the old man had
been relentless when it came to teaching him heraldry, often drilling him as they rode. The nightingales
belonged to Lord Caron of the Marches, as skilled with the high harp as he was with a lance. The
crowned stag was for Ser Lyonel Baratheon, the Laughing Storm. Dunk picked out the Tarly huntsman,
House DondarrionтАЩs purple lightning, the red apple of the Fossoways. There roared the lion of Lannister
gold on crimson, and there the dark green sea turtle of the Estermonts swam across a pale green field.
The brown tent beneath red stallion could only belong to Ser Otho Bracken, who was called the Brute of
Bracken since slaying Lord Quentyn Blackwood three years past during a tourney at KingтАЩs Landing.
Dunk heard that Ser Otho struck so hard with the blunted longaxe that he stove in the visor of Lord
BlackwoodтАЩs helm and the face beneath it. He saw some Blackwood banners as well, on the west edge
of the meadow, as distant from Ser Otho as they could be. Marbrand, Mallister, Cargyll, Westerling,
Swann, Mullendore, Hightower, Florent, Frey, Penrose, Stokeworth, Daffy, Parren, Wylde; it seemed as
though every lordly house of the west and south had sent a knight or three to Ashford to see the fair

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 george rr martin - thehedgeknight

maid and brave the lists in her honor.

Yet however fine their pavilions were to look upon, he knew there was no place there for him. A
threadbare wool cloak would be all the shelter he had tonight. While the lords and great knights dined on
capons and suckling pigs, DunkтАЩs supper would be a hard, stringy piece of salt beef. He knew full well
that if he made his camp upon that gaudy field, he would need to suffer both silent scorn and open
mockery. A few perhaps would treat him kindly, yet in a way that was almost worse.

A hedge knight must hold tight to his pride. Without it, he was no more than a sellsword. I must earn my
place in that company. If I fight well, some lord may take me into his household. I will ride in noble
company then, and eat fresh meat every night in a castle hail, and raise my own pavilion at tourneys. But
first I must do well. Reluctantly, he turned his back on the tourney grounds and led his horses into the
trees.

On the outskirts of the great meadow a good half mile from town and castle he found a place where a
bend in a brook had formed a deep pool. Reeds grew thick along its edge, and a tall leafy elm presided