"Andrew J. Offutt - Cormac 02 - The Tower of Death" - читать интересную книгу автора (Offutt Andrew J)

тАЬLaugh when youтАЩre out of Count GuntramтАЩs reach!тАЭ he yelled after them.
None aboard Raven had Latin but Cormac and Wulfhere, and only the former was fluent. No Latin was
required, however, to recognize the name Guntram. The Danes replied with laughter, boos and rude gestures.
Then they settled to rowing.
Gervase, watching them go, gripped the timber of his shipтАЩs rail till his knuckles showed the colour of the
bone beneath.
RavenтАЩs oars marched smoothly, like the jointless legs of some strange water-centipede, yet this time they
imparted speed but gradually. Out and out across Garonne-mouth moved the pirate craft, turning for a
norтАЩwesterly course.
Not the least of GervaseтАЩs warring feelings was wonder that he lived.
His passions were to be further moved, and that in moments. For while the corbito rolled at anchor, he
sawтАФbeyond the departing Raven, on the estuaryтАЩs north sideтАФshapes move and emerge. With bulging eyes
he recognised them as biremes of the Garonne fleet. They too had their masts unstepped and their decks
clear for fighting.
Master Gervase struck his fist on the rail in explosive joy.
That was his first response, but then he was not the swiftest of thinkers.
Two warships! Raven captured or sunk! The cargo recovered! Such pirates as survived hanging on a gibbet,
after appropriate tortures!
Then it struck him.
They must haтАЩ seen the whole business, from first to last! WhyтАФblight тАЩem with boils from where they lay,
they couldnтАЩt haтАЩ helped it!
Why didnтАЩt they appear sooner?
The answer became obvious as soon as the question was posed.
They wanted the pirate heavy laden. Easy meat. They let us be robbed for thatтАФand killed to a man for aught
they knew, had we not received quarter!
Our fine overlords. Our bloody Gothic protector!
GervaseтАЩs hands had slackened. Now they gripped anew, with the insensate pressure of vises. A vein beat
and coiled in his temple like a frenzied blue worm. The battling furies in his heart found expression in eight
words.
тАЬCarve тАЩem like mutton! Give тАЩem hot hell!тАЭ
Which side he meant to encourage was known only to his god.
The Danes saw the warcraft appear with no dismay, and even no particular surprise. The very madness of
waylaying a ship at the mouth of the Garonne, when Cormac had suggested it, had made it irresistible. They
had known the risk. Wulfhere had shouted for very delight, called the Gael sword-brother, and dealt him a
clap on the back to have staggered a lesser man. He was unaffectedly happy now as he had been then.
тАЬWill ye give look at that?тАЭ he rumbled. тАЬWolf, we are not to be cheated of battle after all.тАЭ
Cormac answered only a nod, but he was not unhappy about that prospect.
The biremes rushed on, driven each by two banks of oars to RavenтАЩs one, and thrice fifty rowers to RavenтАЩs
three score, and them sentenced criminals urged to their work by ropesтАЩ endsтАФknotted. Each warship had a
barnacled bronze-tipped ram jutting from her prow below the water-line, and a hundred Gothic marines on her
deck.
Tough-handed war-men they were, in hard leather cuirasses studded with iron, and round iron caps, armed
with buckler and spatha, the thirty-inch single-edged Gothic sword. One in three was equipped too with short
bow and full quiver. Ordinarily the Danes would have laughed at such, for they were archers the masters of
any in the southern German tribes. Now though they had spent four days in ambush in hostile country. The
weather had been wet, very wet, and so were their bowstrings, even the spares.
CormacтАЩs slitted gaze ran the length of the biremes, for he saw them broadside-on as, they raced to
intercept.
Mounted on each afterdeck was an engine such as heтАЩd not seen till now, a dart-thrower resembling a huge
crossbow. The Greeks had used them ere RomeтАЩs empire arose, never mind fell, and Cormac had vaguely