"John Morressy - The Juggler" - читать интересную книгу автора (Morressy John)

were so, then luxury seemed to him to be a very good thing indeed. He had known comfort a few times in
his life, when he sat by a fire with his belly full and no one threatening or abusing him. He imagined luxury
to be like that, only much better. It would mean never being hungry or cold or wet or afraid; it would mean
being heeded and obeyed. He wondered why William dis-liked it so, but did not ask.
William and Julian were the boy's chosen compan-ions on the journey, the old man for his serene
wis-dom, the knight for the chance that he might tell something of his past life, which was sure to be
excit-ing. Beran divided his time between them, never in-truding on their private thoughts or conversations
but always remaining near one or the other. But Julian, having once told his story, had put his past behind
him, and William was in poor health, stopping often to rest and growing too weak to spend breath on
needless talk.
On Beran's fourth day of traveling with them, Wil-liam collapsed and could not rise. The pilgrims
reached a monastery that night, Julian bearing the frail old man on his back as if he were a child, and
William was taken at once to the infirmary. He died sur-rounded by his companions, who prayed and
sang. They remained to bury him and pray for his soul. Beran left the next morning with a large company
of pilgrims bound for Vezelay.
Two days among them was more than enough for him. These people did not talk, they only walked, at a
relentless pace, and prayed constantly. They carried no food, depending entirely on the charity of those they
encountered. When he saw the bush of an ale house at the roadside, Beran marked the place, and toward
evening he slipped away from the pilgrims to return to it.
Outside the doorway, under a tree, two men lay on the ground, very drunk, singing loudly and
incoher-ently. Beran almost fell over one of them, but the man seemed not to notice. Within, the ale house
was a noisy, lively place, full of men and women of all sorts laughing and talking and calling to one another.
Beran saw more than a score of people, most of them seated on benches around a table. Some were in
rags; others, by their dress, were tradesmen. A few, Beran sus-pected, were outlaws. They were a merry
crowd, busily enjoying themselves, and they paid no heed to a boy all alone.
In his wanderings Beran had learned the shifts and devices that serve those who can depend on neither
strength nor wealth nor powerful friends, the age-old ways of those who survive by their own cunning. He
stooped over, dropped one shoulder, and bent one arm and hand into an awkward position, like a cripple.
Limping to the longest table, he began to juggle two balls with the other hand, keeping it up until he had
caught the attention of the revelers.
"See what a poor feeble boy can do, my masters and ladies!" he said in a weak, pained voice. "I am all
sunken and shrunken with hunger and thirst. Now, if I were given a bit to eat, and something good to
drink, I might be able to entertain you with astonishing feats." "Away with the beggar!" said a fat man at
the far end of the table, but a woman quickly broke in, "Let's see his tricks. Give the boy a bit of meat,
Gib, and let's see what he can do."
The man at her side tore a wing from the fowl before him and flung it to Beran. The boy snatched up the
meat and gobbled it down greedily. A man next to him pushed his tankard forward, and Beran took a deep
draft of ale. Wiping his greasy hand on his thigh, he said, "Masters, your kindness has healed me!" Flexing
his other hand dramatically, he straightened up and began to juggle three balls, meanwhile skipping about in
an improvised dance. The drinkers at the table laughed and cheered him on. After a minute of this, he
stopped, wiped his brow, and said, "Now, if I had a belly full of good food, I could do wondrous things."
A pale, dark-haired man in plain dark clothing tossed him a couple of pennies. "Here, boy, fill your belly,
but first let us see your best." At the woman's urging, the man who had given him the meat now gave him a penny, and
two others added a similar contribu-tion.
"Thank you, kind lady, and you, masters all," Be-ran said, bowing and drawing in the coins. "I feel much
stronger." He started with the three balls, and one by one he added flourishes to his perfor-mance. He
tossed a ball under his leg, then tossed and caught balls behind his back. By this time, others had gathered
around the table, and they were cheer-ing him on. He paused, then held up four balls and began to juggle
with them. Suddenly, for no apparent reason, the fat man rose from his place, red-faced, and shouted at
him, shaking his fist and taking up a tankard as if to throw it. A man next to the fat man seized his arm, and