"Sean McMullen - A Ring of Green Fire" - читать интересную книгу автора (McMullen Sean)

 "It seemed easy pickings. Many young folk of the village were dancing and fondling most intimately,
raising my hopes of a quick and easy conquest. Alas, no girl would spare me the deeper smile, indeed
there seemed no girls unpaired at all. After so long tramping the road I was lonely, and with so many
pairs of lovers cavorting before me I was quite beside myself to be part of it.
"At last I saw one girl who was unpaired, a big-boned, hairy-armed wench with a face that only a
beard could have improved. She was alone, tending the tables, and she smiled broadly whenever I came
near. At first it seemed worse to mount her than no wench at all, yet the fire of spring burned within me. I
made up my mind, approached her, whispered words of compliment, then with unseemly haste did I
shepherd her away from the fair-- more in shame of being seen with her than in shame of the act to come.
I chose a place among bushes behind a broad oak. I-- I could not bear to look upon her, I just bent her
over a rack of poles and flung her skirts up."
He paused for a long drink from the crock. "And you did the deed with her?" I prompted.
"Ah yes, master physician, and she was a virgin, wouldn't you know it? Hah, it was wearisome work,
yet I am a diligent tradesman. To the beat of the distant village band, I placed my rivet and began
tapping. At last I was spent. I eased back as she stood panting, then I slipped away as if I had been a
wood sprite vanishing into air-- lest she have thoughts about wedding me. I skirted the village, took up
my pack and trotted away briskly.
"By evening I was five leagues gone and some way contented. My hammer had been well worked, in
fact he even felt a little numb, so hard had I clinked the pan-- or so I thought. Imagine my alarm when I
unlaced to piss and saw a ring of cold, faint green fire encircling his head."
"The girl was a virgin, you say?"
"Indeed, no doubt of it, I have initiated many. Alas, she passed this cold glow to me, and soon I
noticed that as I worked the pots of goodwives and maids on my travels, the ring would move a little
further up each time. Where it had been the feeling that is lust's reward was no more."
"But surely the women you have bedded since then noticed your green glow?"
"Ah no master, you are obviously not a tradesman. We visit houses and cottages during the day, when
the menfolk are in the fields and their women are at home, alone. Most times will there be a sly look, or
even a saucy suggestion, then we will be coupled on the hearthrug in the light of day. Since the ring was
slipped upon me, I have shared the glow to, oh, ninety-five women, mostly lowborn, though some were
of no mean rank." He nudged me, winking suavely. "Master, if foolish knights would do no better than
fight and drink, well someone must plant the seeds of future knights."
"One last question, Watkin. Could you write down the names and villages of all the women that you
have bedded since the stout maid gave you the green fire?"
"Alas, Master, I cannot write, yet I could recite the names of all! When I lie alone at night I like to
recall each wench that I have ever mounted and set a name against a star, but of late the number of stars
has grown insufficient. Since the stout virgin of Delmy there have been... now let me think... one hundred
and five, yes. Ah, but it is becoming difficult now, as so much of my hammer has no feeling."
Without any warning I seized his wrist and twisted his arm hard behind his back. He cried out in
surprise and pain as I shouted "A firebrand! A firebrand! Quickly!"
My men at arms jumped to their feet at once but Watkin tumbled in mid-air, twisted his arm free of my
grip and darted for the woods with speed of a startled hind. Worse luck for him, the sentry had been
alert for just such a flight. His hand-axe went spinning flat after him, tangled his legs and sent him
sprawling in the mud with a cry of pain. We soon had him in hand and dragged him back to the fire.
"A good throw, Sir Phillip," I said as they held him down and I tended the gashes and cuts in Watkin's
legs. "The great tendon is severed in his right leg, he will never again run from cuckolded husbands with
such speed."
Watkin's moaning suddenly died away as he realised that something else was not as it seemed.
Beneath their shabby robes my men-at-arms were well dressed warriors with fine weapons. They stood
before us, glaring, their eyes sparkling with fury in the firelight.
"What-- who are you?" the tinker stammered.