"C. L. Moore - The Black Gods Kiss" - читать интересную книгу автора (Moore C. L)

The Black God's Kiss
by C.L. Moore
(1934)



THEY BROUGHT IN Joiry's tall commander, struggling between two men-at-arms who tightly
gripped the ropes which bound their captive's mailed arms. They picked their way between mounds of
dead as they crossed the great hall toward the dais where the conqueror sat, and twice they slipped a
little in the blood that spattered the flags. When they came to a halt before the mailed figure on the dais,
Joiry's commander was breathing hard, and the voice that echoed hollowly under the helmet's confines
was hoarse with fury and despair.
Guillaume the conqueror leaned on his mighty sword, hands crossed on its hilt, grinning down from his
height upon the furious captive before him. He was a big man, Guillaume, and he looked bigger still in his
spattered armor. There was blood on his hard, scarred face, and he was grinning a white grin that split his
short, curly beard glitteringly. Very splendid and very dangerous he looked, leaning on his great sword
and smiling down upon fallen Joiry's lord, struggling between the, stolid men-at-arms.
"Unshell me this lobster," said Guillaume in his deep lazy voice. "We'll see what sort of face the fellow
has who gave us such a battle. Off with his helmet, you."
But a third man had to come up and slash the straps which held the iron helmet on, for the struggles of
Joiry's commander were too fierce, even with bound arms, for either of the guards to release their hold.
There was a moment of sharp struggle; then the straps parted and the helmet rolled loudly across the
flagstones.
Guillaume's white teeth clicked on a startled oath. He stared. Joiry's lady glared back at him from
between her captors, wild red hair tousled, wild lion-yellow eyes ablaze.
"God curse you!" snarled the lady of Joiry between teeth. "God blast your black heart!"
Guillaume scarcely heard her. He was still staring, as men stared when they first set eyes upon Jirel of
Joiry. She was tall as most men, and as savage as the wildest of them, and the fall of Joiry was bitter
enough to her heart as she stood snarling curses up at her conqueror. The face above her mail might not
have fair in a woman's head-dress, but in the steel setting of her armor it had a biting, sword-edge beauty
as keen as the flash of blades. The red hair was short upon high, defiant head, and the yellow blaze of her
eyes held fury as a crucible holds fire.
Guillaume's stare melted into a slow smile. A little light kindled behind his eyes as he swept the long,
strong lines of her with a practised gaze. The smile broadened, suddenly he burst into full-throated
laughter, a deep bellow of amusement and delight.
"By the Nails!" he roared. "Here's welcome for the warrior! And what forfeit d'ye offer, pretty one, for
your life?"
She blazed a curse at him.
"So? Naughty words for a mouth so fair, my lady. We'll not deny you put up a gallant battle. No man
could have done better, and many have done worse, But Guillaume--" He inflated his splendid chest and
grinned down at her from the depths of his jutting beard. "Come to me, pretty one," he commanded. "I'll
wager your mouth is sweeter than your words."
Jirel drove a spurred heel into the shin of one guard and twisted from his grip as he howled, bringing up
an iron knee into the abdomen of the other. She had writhed from their grip and made three long strides
toward the door before Guillaume caught her. She felt his arms closing about her from behind, and lashed
out with heels in a futile assault upon his leg armor, twisting like a maniac, fighting with her knees and
spurs, straining hopelessly at the ropes which bound her arms. Guillaume laughed and whirled her round,
grinning down into the blaze of her yellow eyes. Then deliberately he set a fist under her chin and tilted
her mouth up to his. There was a cessation of her hoarse curses.
"By Heaven, that's like kissing a sword-blade," said Guillaume, lifting his lips at last.