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

Sir Phillip glared at me from under his cloak, but he was obviously thinking.
"There is a lot of merit in what you say... but it's hard to think chivalrous thoughts with a ring of green
fire about my gronnick! What can I do about that?"
"The tinker took a curse upon himself when he bundled into the witch's daughter. He then dispersed
that curse to nearly every woman he seduced in his travels, and hence to all their lovers. That has formed
quite an avenging army."
"And we did avenge her!"
"Yes, but there is more to it than that, so the glow remains. The green fire is a tool to force us to do
certain tasks, and even teach us about the ways of men and women."
We entered the dungeon, where the tinker was practising walking with a crutch and in good spirits.
"Have you caught the Delmy witch?" he asked.
"We found her grave and exhumed it. She is nought but bones after these eighteen years."
"Eighteen years? Bones? She was as well-fleshed as a prize sow when I mounted her the May before
last."
"That was her daughter. The witch herself died in childbirth, but her daughter unknowingly carried a
curse. You turned that curse loose upon the world. Gerelde was raised by a peasant family, and has
come to be a fine cook. I tasted her food, it was fine fare for a peasant table. She wants for nought but a
husband. She's plain of face and is built as solidly as Sir Peter, yet for all that she is a kindly girl."
Watkin sneered. "Why are you telling me about her? I'd never touch her again, she's as ugly as a goat's
backside."
"She was quite taken by you, Watkin, and she is very concerned that you are imprisoned here. Still,
you are more fortunate than the brigand who raped her mother. Sir Peter caught him, did you know? He
was a great slab of a man, massive rather than fat, full of life and defiance, even eighteen years after the
deed that caused all this. He was confident that we would not kill him because he knew where sundry
hoards of gold and silver loot lay buried. Sir Peter had him taken to the graveside of his victim, and there
his gronnick was sliced from between his legs and rammed down his windpipe so that he choked on it
and died most horribly. Those of his men as were watching quickly babbled the location of hoards of
coin, plate and jewellery, yet none heeded them. Sir Peter had to kill him with the same weapon that
killed Gerelde's mother."
Watkin was deathly pale by now, and had slumped against the wall. "Mother of God, but why?"
"He was a link in the chain that ignited the green fire. You are another link."
"Me? But, but-- "
"You bedded Sir Peter's mistress. That alone should have you in fear for your life, but you also passed
the fire to her."
The tinker cowered, but said no more. Sir Phillip lurked in the shadows, smirking at his discomfort.
"I need tears of pity that have been wept for you and no other. In all the world, Watkin, would anyone
weep for you?"
"Many regard me as comely."
"Someone must weep for you, Watkin. Your flesh is about to hiss with the touch of the red iron."
"No! As God is merciful, no! Take my pack, sell me into slavery! I'll do anything-- "
"For the final ingredient to quench the ring of green fire you will be able to choose between death and
a less daunting fate, but for now you will be tortured. I require that it be done, Watkin, and believe me
that there are thousands of men and women who would fight to the death for the pleasure of holding the
glowing iron to you. You have often been bold, now you must learn to be brave."
Once we were well away from the dungeon and Watkin's hysterical pleading Sir Phillip took me by the
arm.
"That brigand was killed in battle by one of Sir Peter's archers. It was a shaft through his skull, he died
at once."
"True."
"Then what was that story about choking him on his own gronnick?"