"Robin McKinley - The Outlaws of Sherwood" - читать интересную книгу автора (McKinley Robin)

forest,тАЭ said Robin.
тАЬYou can still make arrows,тАЭ said Much. тАЬOne of my friends, Harald, is a
leather-worker, caught in a position something like yours might have been under Will
Fletcher. There are other examples. And IтАФoh, I can experiment with snares. And
someone will have to dig privy vaults. You see? I do have some notion of what IтАЩm
proposing.
тАЬBut IтАЩm not going to argue with you tonight. YouтАЩre tired; you couldnтАЩt be
anything else. You can sleep in the old barn at the mill tonight, and tomorrow night
as well. Just promise usтАФfor this eveningтАФthat you wonтАЩt try to sacrifice yourself
to your stubborn idea of justice to a Norman king. No sacrifices till youтАЩve had at
least one good nightтАЩs sleep, and something to eat.тАЭ
тАЬAnd have let you talk at me some more,тАЭ said Robin.
тАЬThatтАЩs right,тАЭ said Much.
There was a long pause. Robin looked at his two friends, seated now on either
side of him, and it occurred to him that they were going to take him into custody as
inexorably as any kingтАЩs foresters might: their faces told him that. тАЬOh, to the devil
with you, and your troop of merry bandits with you,тАЭ he said. тАЬI promise.тАЭ


CHAPTER THREE
┬л^┬╗
Robin woke up with an intolerable headache and a sense of impending doom that it
took him a few moments to define. When he had remembered the events of the day
before, fear tried to shoot him bolt uprightтАФand his abused body, which had turned
to stone overnight, jerked an inch or two in its bed of straw and refused to move
further. The jerk, however, woke up a great many more, not only physical, protests,
that cast the headache into comparative shadow. Robin lay still, staring at the roof,
and his thoughts were bleak.
He rolled overтАФcautiouslyтАФat last, and found lying beside him not only a loaf of
bread and a bottle of water, but his fatherтАЩs bow, still in the wrappings he was used
to keep it in.
He ate the bread, drank the water, and contemplated the bow. He was still too
tired to think sensiblyтАФhe felt as if the night before had been more a period of
unconsciousness than of sleepтАФ and his bruised emotions could not decide if they
were chiefly of gratitude for the mysterious rescue of the one possession that meant
more to him than any other, or fear of finding out how, exactly, it had been restored
to him.
He muffled a sneeze. He was stowed away in the smallest, highest loft in MuchтАЩs
fatherтАЩs old barn; in MuchтАЩs grandfatherтАЩs day they had kept a few beasts, but the
millтАЩs custom had increased to the point that the animals were more trouble than they
were worth when the miller could trade for anything he might need. тАЬIf there had
been six of me instead of only me and a few sisters,тАЭ Much had said once, тАЬthat
barn might still be used; but there isnтАЩt, and thereтАЩs more than work enough for my
father and me at the mill.тАЭ Robin thought of that now: and Much was suggesting that
he turn his back on his father, to run wild in Sherwood. He had tried to balk the night
before, when Much brought him home; Much was known as a friend of his, the
sheriffтАЩs men would come to the mill to askтАФpossibly to search. тАЬOh, theyтАЩll come
and theyтАЩll ask,тАЭ said Much, тАЬbut they wonтАЩt search. You donтАЩt know my father
when he plays stupid. HeтАЩll be beautifully offended when they ask if his only son
might be harbouring any known criminals, and heтАЩll be even more offended when