"Martin, George R R - The hedge knight" - читать интересную книгу автора (Martin George R R)

door.
At this hour, he would have expected the inn to be crowded, but the common room
was almost empty. A young lordling in a fine damask mantle was passed out at one
table, snoring softly into a pool of spilled wine. Otherwise there was no one.
Dunk looked around uncertainly until a stout, short. whey-faced woman emerged
from the kitchens and said, УSit where you like. Is it ale you want, or food?Ф
УBoth.Ф Dunk took a chair by the window, well away from the sleeping man.
УThereТs good lamb, roasted with a crust of herbs, and some ducks my son shot
down. Which will you have?Ф
He had not eaten at an inn in half a year or more. УBoth.Ф
The woman laughed. УWell, youТre big enough for it.Ф She drew a tankard of ale
and brought it to his table. УWill you be wanting a room for the night as well?Ф

УNo.Ф Dunk would have liked nothing better than a soft straw mattress and a roof
above his head, but he needed to be careful with his coin. The ground would
serve. УSome food, some ale, and itТs on to Ashford for me. How much farther is
it?Ф
УA dayТs ride. Bear north when the road forks at the burned mill. Is my boy
seeing to your horses, or has he run off again?Ф
УNo, heТs there,Ф said Dunk. УYou seem to have no custom.Ф
УHalf the townТs gone to see the tourney. My own would as well, if I allowed it.
TheyТll have this inn when I go, but the boy would sooner swagger about with
soldiers, and the girl turns to sighs and giggles every time a knight rides by.
I swear I couldnТt tell you why. Knights are built the same as other men, and I
never knew a joust to change the price of eggs.Ф She eyed Dunk curiously; his
sword and shield told her one thing, his rope belt and roughspun tunic quite
another. УYouТre bound for the tourney yourself?Ф
He took a sip of the ale before he answered. A nut brown color it was, and thick
on the tongue, the way he liked it. УAye,Ф he said. УI mean to be a champion.Ф
УDo you, now?Ф the innkeep answered, polite enough.
Across the room, the lordling raised his head from the wine puddle. His face had
a sallow, unhealthy cast to it beneath a ratТs nest of sandy brown hair, and
blond stubble crusted his chin. He rubbed his mouth, blinked at Dunk, and said,
УI dreamed of you.Ф His hand trembled as he pointed a finger. УYou stay away
from me, do you hear? You stay well away.Ф
Dunk stared at him uncertainly. УMy lord?Ф
The innkeep leaned close. УNever you mind that one, ser. All he does is drink
and talk about his dreams. IТll see about that food.Ф She bustled off.
УFood?Ф The lordling made the word an obscenity. He staggered to his feet, one
hand on the table to keep himself from falling. УIТm going to be sick,Ф he
announced. The front of his tunic was crusty red with old wine stains. УI wanted
a whore, but thereТs none to be found here. All gone to Ashford Meadow. Gods be
good, I need some wine.Ф He lurched unsteadily from the common room, and Dunk
heard him climbing steps, singing under his breath.
A sad creature, thought Dunk. But why did he think he knew me? He pondered that
a moment over his ale.
The lamb was as good as any he had ever eaten, and the duck was even better,
cooked with cherries and lemons and not near as greasy as most. The innkeep
brought buttered pease as well, and oaten bread still hot from her oven. This is
what it means to be a knight, he told himself as he sucked the last bit of meat