"Nancy Springer - Isle 03 - The Sable Moon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Springer Nancy)

"What bard is that?" Trevyn murmured.

A dark, feral voice was singing, chanting out a harsh ballad that rang like a blast of wintry air through the
warm room.
"Out of shadowed Lyrdion The sword Hau Ferddas came; By Cuin the heir Dacaerin won For Be van
of Eburacon, To win him crown and fame.

And won him fame, and won his land, And nearly dealt Cuin doom; And Bevan of the Silver Hand Went
over sea to Elwestrand, Where golden apples bloom.

So Cuin Dacaerin seized the cares To which his sword gave claim, High King in Laueroc, and his heirs
Held sway for half a thousand years, Until the warships came. тАв

Mighty sword of Lyrdion, Golden blade of Lyrdion, Bloody brand of Lyrdion, Long your shadow falls."

"What tale is that?" Meg wondered. "I have never heard it."

"Few people have," Trevyn exclaimed under his breath. "The magical sword of the High Kings still lies
where my uncle Hal left it; he would not use its tainted power. But only he and my father knew of it, I
thought!" The Prince moved



closer to see the singer's face, but the crowd stood in his way, held rapt by the strange song.

"Claryon was the High King's name Who died without a wound; Culean, his son of warlike fame Who
took Hau Ferddas, bright as flame, Where fortune importuned.

It won him woe, it won him shame, And cozened him to slay him, By his own hand himself to maim To
keep the sword by his own blame, And in a barrow lay him.

And in a barrow of the Waste Hau Ferddas still lay gleaming, And Isle, her land by war disgraced, Lay
at the feet of foes abased, Hope lost beyond all dreaming.

Mighty sword of Lyrdion, Golden blade of Lyrdion, Bloody brand of Lyrdion, Long your shadow falls."

Rafe made his way to Trevyn, parting the crowd in his wake. At last Trevyn and Meg were able to see
the husky-voiced singer, looking like a ruffian in his brownish wrap┬мpings. "Do you know that fellow?"
Rafe asked the Prince in a low voice. "He walked straight in and started his song, and I haven't the heart
to stop him, though he sounds like branches in a wind. There's an elfin look about him in a way."

"Son of aтАФ" Trevyn groaned. It was Gwern, meeting his eyes without a hint of expression as he finished
his ballad.

"Till, half ten hundred turnings done, A Very King returned, And Alan of the Rising Sun



And Hal, the heir of Bevan, won The crowns their mercy earned.