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

Much had been right that his friends would be glad to meet Robin; and they
seemed to accept Marian as wellтАФperhaps because she proved as fanatical as they
were, he thought. But he found also that he was a little ashamed of himself for
pouring water on the fire of their enthusiasm, when the bottom of that enthusiasm
was that they were keeping him aliveтАФthey who could earn a welcome purse of coin
instead by turning him over to the sheriffтАЩs men.
That first even there were seven of them: Robin himself, and Much and Marian;
the leather-worker, Harald; Jocelin, a carpenter; and Simon and Gilbert, both yeomen
under the same Norman lord. The hours passed swiftly, and RobinтАЩs head swam
with talk and smokeтАФwhich refused to rise and go through the hole in the roof as it
should, but preferred to snake around nose-level through the roomтАФand exhaustion.
He was still tired from the day before; and his nerves were pulled their tightest
besides at the knowledge that for all the days that remained to him the threat of that
purse of coin would follow him. He also had small patience with theory, however
finely and logically it went together; and half to keep himself awake and half in
pursuit of some small shadowy thoughts of his own, he began to draw bow-shaped
marks on MuchтАЩs hearth with a piece of charcoal. тАЬYou get to clean that off again,тАЭ
said Much, when he noticed; тАЬmy father is a tidy man and my sisters are worse.тАЭ
тАЬUm,тАЭ said Robin.
It was probably nothing but a way of distracting his mind; but then his mind was
pitiably grateful for anything by way of distraction. The next day, hidden again in his
loft, he strung his fatherтАЩs bow for the first time in months and tried to pull it.
Various things pinged and popped across his chest, down his shoulders and back;
he pulled it, slowly, as if to control the flight of the arrow he did not notch: once;
twice; thrice. He could not pull it a fourth time. His wrists shook with the strain; he
looked at them dourly.
He did not have a great deal of time for such exercise after that. At his own
insistence he left MuchтАЩs barn the third day; the sheriffтАЩs men had not been back, as
Much pointed out, but they would be back, as Robin pointed out. He carried with
him a parcel of food and two blankets, both bows, what arrows he had left, a small
axe, and a small shovel. тАЬI feel like a pedlar,тАЭ he said to Much, as his friend tried to
help distribute the load. тАЬI shall probably make as much noise as one, tooтАФcrash,
crash, bong, clang, clangтАФoh, stop it. YouтАЩre just making my shirt ruck up
underneath with your tugging.тАЭ
тАЬIf you were a donkey youтАЩd bray,тАЭ said Much cheerfully. тАЬYouтАЩre welcome; IтАЩm
glad to have been of assistance to you.тАЭ
Robin grinned, but the grin fell away. тАЬCome to think of it, IтАЩm glad to have
something not to thank you for.тАЭ They stood looking at one another for a moment.
тАЬThank you,тАЭ said Robin. тАЬThank you for my life.тАЭ
тАЬPfft,тАЭ said Much. тАЬYou know me, I just like to tell stories. How could I resist
getting close enough to this one to tell about it later? IтАЩll see you in a day or so.тАЭ And
he turned and went back downhill, toward the mill.
Robin went the other way; up into the undergrowth behind the barn which soon
enough became Sherwood Forest, for Whitestone Mill lay with the forest at its back,
where the stream that turned its wheel first emerged from the great trees. He was
going to a place he knew, a place he thought was as safe as any might be for such as
he, a place he had discovered once while chasing a (legitimately) wounded deer.
HeтАЩd noticed it then for no particular reasonтАФhe thoughtтАФas somewhere that might
be rendered both relatively comfortable and relatively defendable; and dismissed the
notion at once for fear of what thinking about it might lead to. It had permitted itself