"Sharon K. Penman - The Sunne In Splendour" - читать интересную книгу автора (Penman Sharon K)

heard it said that the King shrank from shedding blood.
But the Queen had no such qualms. Richard knew she hated his father, with all the passion the King
lacked. She wanted his father dead; Richard had heard his cousin Warwick say so that very day. He
wasn't all that sure just why the Queen should hate his father so; but he had heard men say that his father
had a better claim to the English crown than the King and he suspected this might have something to do
with the Queen's unrelenting hostility. It was confusing to Richard, though, for his father repeatedly
vowed that the King was his sovereign and liege lord. He didn't understand why his father could not just
assure the Queen of his loyalty to King Harry. If she understood that, perhaps she would not hate his
father so much then. Perhaps there need be no battle. . . .
He stiffened suddenly and then jerked upright in the bed, jarring George into wakeful wrath. He emerged
from the coverlets with an oath pirated from Edward, irritation giving way to outrage as he inhaled a
mouthful of feathers.
"Damn you, Dickon," he spluttered, grabbing for the younger boy.
Richard was generally adroit at evading George's vengeance, but now he made no attempt to escape,
and George soon pinned him down against the mattress, somewhat surprised at the ease of his victory.
"George, listen! Can you not hear? Listen!"
Buffeting him with the pillow, with more exuberance now than anger, George at last heeded Richard's
muffled protests and cocked his head, listening.
"Men are shouting," he said uneasily.
DRESSING hastily in the dark, they crept from their bedchamber in the Pendower Tower. All of Ludlow
was suddenly deep in unfriendly shadows, had become a sinister refuge for every malignant spirit that
could be conjured up by the feverish imaginings of two fearful small boys. By the time they reached the
east door of the great hall, they were stumbling over each other in their urgency to gain the security of
torchlight and known voices.
The great hall was sixty feet in length, thirty feet in width, and crowded with men, men rudely roused from
sleep, men who were fastening hastily donned garments, buckling scabbard at hip and thigh, kicking
impatiently at the castle dogs that were circling about in frenzied excitement. At first, Richard saw only
the swords, what seemed to him to be a forest of naked blades, each nearly as long as a man's height and
capable of shearing a head from its body with one stroke. Gradually he began to pick out familiar faces.
His mother's brother, Richard Neville, Earl of Salisbury. Salisbury's grown son and namesake, Richard
Neville, Earl of Warwick. William Hastings, a youthful friend of his father's. And by the open stone
hearth, Ned and Edmund.
It was some moments, however, before he was able to find his parents. The Duke of York and his
Duchess were standing apart from the others in the hall. As Richard watched, his mother reached up and
touched her fingers lightly to her husband's lips; he enfolded her hand within his own. Richard caught his
breath. He had never seen his mother other than immaculate, never less than perfect in her person and
her poise. This white-faced woman with masses of unbound hair enveloping her in bright disarray was a
stranger to him.
"Take care, Dickon, lest we be seen," George was hissing in his ear, but Richard shook off his brother's
restraining hand and slipped around the dais, into the hall. As desperate as he was for reassurance, he
dared not approach his parents. He chose, instead, to wend his way cautiously through the press toward
his brothers.
"But why should you go with our uncle Salisbury and cousin Warwick rather than with our lord father and
me, Ned?"
As Edward started to answer Edmund, a small shadow materialized unexpectedly at his elbow, so silently
and suddenly that his taut nerves betrayed him and he snapped, "For Christ's sake, Dickon, how came
you to be here? Why are you not abed?"
But as he looked into the boy's stricken dark eyes, he relented. Reaching down, he swung Richard up
easily into his arms and, with Edmund trailing behind, shoved his way across the hall, toward the screen
that extended across the southwest end of the chamber.