"Eternal Champion - 05 - The Skrayling Tree" - читать интересную книгу автора (Moorcock Michael)

respected the law above their own immediate interests. Normans employed
sophisticated feudalism as their engine; the Iroquois, a shade more egalitarian,
employed the notion of mutuality and common law but were just as ruthless in
establishing it. I felt very close to the past that day as I romantically
scanned the shore, fancying I
glimpsed one of those legendary warriors, with his shaven head, scalp lock, war
paint and breechclout, but of course there was no one.
I was about to put the glasses away when I caught a movement and a spot of color
on one of the near islands among the thick clusters of birch, oak and pine which
found unlikely purchase in what soil there was. A little mist clung to the
afternoon water, and for a moment my vision was obscured. Expecting to glimpse a
deer or perhaps a fisherman, I brought the island into focus and was very
surprised. In my lens was an oak-timbered wattle-and-daub manor house similar to
those I had seen in Iceland, the design dating back to the eleventh century.
Surely this house had to be the nostalgic folly of some very early settler?
There were legends of Viking exploration here, but the many-windowed house was
not quite that ancient! Wisteria and ivy showed how many years the two-storied
house had stood with its black beams rooted among old trees and thick moss, yet
the place had a well-kept but abandoned look, as if its owner rarely lived
there. I asked Ulric his opinion. He frowned as he raised the binoculars. "I
don't think it's in the guide." He adjusted the lens. "My God! You're right. An
old manor! Great heavens!"
We were both intrigued. "I wonder if it was ever an inn or hotel?" Ulric, like
me, was now more alert. His lean, muscular body sprang from its chair. I loved
him in this mood, when he consciously jolted himself out of his natural reserve.
"It's not too late yet for a quick preliminary exploration!" he said. "And it's
close enough to be safe. Want to look at it? It'll only take an hour to go there
and back in the canoe."
Exploring an old house was just enough adventure for my mood. I wanted to go
now, while Ulric was in the same state of mind. Thus, we were soon paddling out
from the little jetty, finding it surprisingly easy going against the fast-
running tide. We both knew canoes and worked well in unison, driving rapidly
towards the mysterious island. Of course, for the children's sake, we would take
no risks if the pull of Le Chaudron became stronger.
Though it was very difficult to see from the shore through the
thick trees, I was surprised we had not noticed the house earlier. Our friends
had said nothing about an old building. In those days the heritage industry was
in its infancy, so it was possible the local guides had failed to mention it,
especially if the house was still privately owned. However, I did wonder if we
might be trespassing. To be safe we had to avoid the pull of the maelstrom at
all costs, so we paddled to the west before we headed directly for the island,
where the gentle tug actually aided our progress. Typically rocky, the island
offered no obvious place to land. We were both still capable of getting under
the earthy tree roots and hauling ourselves and canoe up bodily, but it seemed
an unnecessary exercise, especially when we rounded the island and found a
perfect sloping slab of rock rising out of the sea like a slipway. Beside it was
a few feet of shingle.
We beached easily enough on the weedy strip of pebbles, then tramped up the
slab. At last we saw the white sides and stained black oak beams of the house
through the autumn greenery. The manor was equally well kept at the back, but we