"Sharon K. Penman - Here Be Dragons" - читать интересную книгу автора (Penman Sharon K)

had Stephen's butter-yellow hair. He strode up to Stephen and, without a word,
struck the younger boy across the face, with enough force to send Stephen
sprawling.
"We've been looking for you for nigh on two hours! I've a mind to leave you
here, and damned well should!"
As Walter reached down and jerked Stephen to his feet, Llewelyn came forward.
He'd taken an instant dislike to Walter de Hodnet, but for Stephen's sake, he
sought to sound conciliatory as he said, "It was my fault, too. We were
talking and ..."
Walter's eyes flicked to his face, eyes of bright blue, iced with sudden
suspicion. "What sort of lowborn riffraff have you taken up with now,
Stephen?"
Llewelyn flushed. "I am Llewelyn ab lorwerth," he said after a long pause;
instinct was now alerting him to trouble. At the same time Stephen burst into
nervous speech.
"He is a Welsh Prince, Walter, and ... and he's been telling me all about
Wales ..."
''Oh, he has?" Walter said softly, and Stephen, who knew his rother well
enough to be forewarned, tried to shrink back. But Walter
still had a grip on his tunic. With his other hand he grasped a fistful of
Stephen's hair and yanked, until Stephen's head was drawn back so fa that he
seemed to be staring skyward, and was whimpering with pajn
"That's just what I could expect from you. No more common sense than the
stupidest serf, not since the day you were born. So he's been telling you
about Wales? Did he tell you, too, about the crops burned in the fields, the
villages plundered, the women carried off?" Releasing Stephen, he swung around
suddenly on Llewelyn.
"Suppose you tell him about it now. Tell my lack-wit brother about the border
raids, tell him how brave your murdering countrymen are against defenseless
peasants and how they run like rabbits when \ve send men-at-arms against
them!"
Sul was grazing some yards away, and for several moments Llewelyn had been
measuring the distance, wanting nothing so much as to be up on the gelding's
back and off at a breakneck run. But with Walter's taunt, he froze where he
was, pride temporarily prevailing over fear. He'd never run like a rabbit,
never. But there was a betraying huskiness in his voice as he said, "I have
nothing to say to you."
Walter was flanked by his two companions; they'd moved closer to Llewelyn, too
close, and he took a backward step. But he dared retreat no farther, for the
brook embankment was at his back and he did not know how to swim. He stood
very still, head held high, for he'd once seen a stray spaniel face down
several larger dogs by showing no fear. They stepped in, tightening the
circle, but made no move to touch him. He was never to know how long the
impasse might have lasted, for at that moment one of the boys noticed Sul.
"Damn me if he does not have his own mount! Where would a Welsh whelp get a
horse like that?"
"Where do you think?" Walter, too, was staring at the chestnut, with frankly
covetous eyes. "You know what they say. Scratch a Welshman, find a horse
thief."
Llewelyn felt a new and terrible fear, for he'd raised Sul from a