"Andrew J. Offutt - Cormac 01 - The Mists of Doom" - читать интересную книгу автора (Offutt Andrew J)

part of the kingdomтАЩs important defenses. For it bristled betwixt the dense forest east of which lay the rest of
Eirrin and its kingdoms, and the sea, whence came occasional-raiders from the Northlands and, unceasingly,
the Cruithne; the squat dark men the Romans called the Old Ones: Pictii; Picts. And thus it was not ArtтАЩs
Rath at all, but a highly important outpost of the kingdom born centuries agone as Coiced Connachta; an
outpost that took in all these acres and the land even unto the sea, and that for two centuries had borne the
name Rath Glondarth, and, more simply by someoneтАЩs cleverness, Glondrath.
The Rath of Deeds. And many were the deeds done here by striving men at the game of the Morrigu and the
shield-splitting, nor ever had Rath Glondarth fallen to attackers.
Just after dawn, two men on horseback emerged from the woods. To their right the meadowed plain rolled out
and out like a carpet laid at the foot of the mountain that rose tall and tallтАФand gapless; to their left began
the long gentle rise that gave way to highland farms and pasturage. Because of the forest with its myriad
oaks and plentitude of acorns, many were the fine pigs that were raised hereabouts. Fond of pork, were the
sons of Eirrin.
Nearly a mile straight ahead rose the lios and Rath Glondarth, the command of Art mac Comail of the
western ui-Neill,
ComalтАЩs fifth son was Art, and little thereтАЩd been left for him on his fatherтАЩs death. Given this command
because of his sword and his warlike brain, along with the failure of its previous lord, Art had proven so strong
and fair-handed that men and their families had flocked to him. His command had become his estate, and
good was the tribute sent by him to his king each year. Good too was GlondrathтАЩs trade; pork fattened on
these grasses and roots and acorns was known as far to the east as Carmen and southeast as Caisel and
aye, even in Tir Conaill of Ailech to the north. And many were the lordsтАЩ halls south and north and east of
Connacht that dispalyed on their walls Pictish spears and shields and blades, for those there were in Eirrin
who had never seen the Cruithne.
Picts were well known betwixt the forest called Sciath Connaict and the sea.
Both riders who emerged from the woods were cloak-muffled, furs up, for the, dawn-chill had hardly
dissipated. They sat their mounts loosely in weariness, and both beasts were winded, blowing with flanks
atremble. For hours they had been urged with care through the night-blackened forest. Their riders had held
their mounts to a walk while trusting otherwise to the instinct and surefootedness of the animals on the
hardpacked roadway. The trail was broad, though, for reasons of defense and the slowing of any possible
force of invaders, it wound about abominably.
Winded or no, the horses quickened their trot. One whickered and both strove to stretch reins and ridersтАЩ
arms to allow a lope. For with home, oats and stable in sight, they were no less anxious to reach that hilltop
fortress than the men they bore. Yet despite the haste that had driven them to the long ride through the night,
the men held their reins now in stern hands that drew skin tight over knuckles. Neither was anxious, this
close, to have his mount go down under him in final weariness.
They but glanced at the apple orchard to the east; the guard, that was ever posted there to surprise
interlopers would not bestir themselves and betray their position to challenge only two men. And besides,
Midhir mac Fionn was at pains to display in that direction his scarlet-painted shield with its four sun-catching
points of silver; a gift from his lord Art that shield, and known farther abroad then hereabouts.
The forced ride had been cruel in more ways than one. There had been the darkness and the danger of a
stumbling mount. There had been the sleepiness that came on, with the growing ache in buttocks and thighs.
And too the long silent hours of darkness had afforded much time for brain-meandering.
Nor had Cormac mac Art done aught else. His mind would not clear, nor would it consent to remain on any
one of his several worries. Of no avail the years of words and mental exercises drilled into him by Sualtim
whose counsel was ever that one should get to know oneself, and then to control him one thus knew, to
make him the betterтАФand no animal merely reacting.
There had been too much, and all at once. The thrill of bracing that huge bear had been enow. Sure and such
a feat deserved to be followed only by a basking in the bright glow of praise, followed by earned sleep. Yet
close on the heels of that encounter and that accomplishment had come the... the rune-sent vision, the
samha.