"SM Stirling - Change 02 - Scourge of God" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stirling S. M)

УIt couldnТt have been just for advantage,Ф Mathilda said slowly. УWe weredead, Rudi. And that hit on the head was the real thing; heТs still hurting from it. And when you rescued us . . . he threw himself under a sword to save me.Ф
УAnd not even his worst enemyЧthe which I am not; I like himЧwould deny that heТs a very brave man.Ф
She glanced at him from the corners of her eyes; he could tell she thought he was being a good deal too fair. УArenТt you theleast bit jealous? Just ateeny bit?Ф
УSure, and I didnТt mean to be insulting!Ф
УYou are! Jealous, that is.Ф
Steadily, Rudi went on: УIwould be a bit jealous at the least, were I afraid youТd decidedyou were the love of OdardТs life.Ф
УBut IТm not of yours,Ф she said quietly. УAm I, Rudi?Ф
He turned and put a finger under her chin and kissed her. It was gentleЧwith his face in its present state it couldnТt be otherwiseЧbut warm. Not the first time theyТd kissed, but . . .
УWoof!Ф she said a long moment later.
УWoof indeed,Ф he said, clearing his throat to get the huskiness out of it. Then:
УMatti, I canТtfall in love with you, or you with me. WeТve known each other too long! But the loveТs there, never doubt it.Ф
УI wonТt be any manТs lover, except my husbandТs,Ф she said defiantly. УNot even yours, Rudi.Ф
He noddedЧshe was as constant in her faith as he was in his, and hers put some very odd demands on her.
The problem being that it doesnТt mean she dislikes my flirting with her. It just means sheТs guaranteed to keep saying no. Which may be fine for her, but would leave me walking in a most odd and mirth-provoking way, after a while. Idolove her, but IТm nota Christian.
УAnd were I your handfasted man, there would be no other for me,Ф he said soberly. УBut . . .Ф
She shook her head and sighed. УBut right now, weТre going to be running and hiding and fighting, not courting.Ф
And when we get back, there will be matters of State, and of our gods,he thought.
Tears pooled in her eyes; the starlight sparkled in them, and it occurred to him that a man could drown himself there and account it a pleasant passing. He brushed them aside with his thumb.
УShhhh, donТt be sad,anamchara . WeТre alive, and together, and while those are true we wonТt be lonely,Ф he said. Then, with a sly edge in his voice: УFrustrated, perhaps . . .Ф
This time shedid poke a finger into his ribs, and laughed, which heТd wanted. He yelped and they walked back towards the dying embers, a puddle of glowing red in the vast darkness about.
УTime to get some sleep, then,Ф he said, and nodded to the twins; they ghosted off to take first watch.
УIТm . . . going to do some letters,Ф Mathilda said. УYou brought my writing-kit. Maybe Sergeant Gonzalez can deliver them for us, sometime.Ф
УNow, thatТs a good idea,Ф Rudi said. УBut IТll do mine in the morning. WeТve a very long way to go . . .Ф
And farther still to our homecoming,he thought with a stab of longing.And peace and rest.




CHAPTER TWO
DUN JUNIPER, CASCADE FOOTHILLS, WESTERN OREGON
AUGUST 20, CHANGE YEAR 23/2021 AD
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УYet another of the things I learned after the Change,Ф Juniper Mackenzie said with a rueful chuckle.
She spoke quietly and kept her face grave as the solemn young men and women of the escort fell in with bow and sword and buckler, steel caps on their heads and the moon-and-antlers sigil of the Clan blazoned on the chests of their green brigandines. It was the least she could do, since theyТd been called away from field and forge and loom for this.
УMy dear?Ф her husband, Nigel, replied.
He stood trim beside her in kilt and plaid, feathered bonnet and green jacket, ruffled shirt and silver-buckled shoes, erect as a boy despite the sixty-three years that had turned him egg-bald and washed the yellow of his mustache to white. The twisted gold torc of marriage around his neck was the twin to hers.
УWhen I busked at the RenFaires and Society tournaments in the old days I sang of knights and kings and princes, of battles and captivities and rescues, but never a word about how much time Arthur and Gawain and Lancelot probably spent sitting Тround a tableЧФ
УRound or not,Ф he said, with that slight smile that made his face look young for a moment, like a tow-haired schoolboy fromPuck of PookТs Hill bent on mischief.
УЧarguing who paid what to whom and who was responsible for doing the other thing. Attendingmeetings . ItТs not so much being Chief I mind, or even Goddess-on-Earth, itТs being abureaucrat .Ф
Sir Nigel Loring chuckled; hehad been a leader of men before the ChangeЧlieutenant colonel in the Blues and Royals and before that the SAS. Then one of the powers behind the throne after the Change, helping save a remnant of civilization in England before Charles the Mad had driven him into exile.
УAnd dealing with bumpf,Ф he said, using a rude word for paperwork heТd taught her.
She sighed and quieted her mind as they stood for a moment in the open gateway of the fortress-village that was her home, letting the grateful heat sink into her bones and fill her tired body with an animal contentment.
УThere are times I feel old indeed,Ф she said. УOld and overworked.Ф Then: УWell, the job doesnТt grow easier for the waiting.Ф
The day was drowsy with warmth as the sun sank towards the thin blue line of the Coast Range on the western horizon; a last few bees buzzed homeward, and a flock of Western bluebirds went over, like a chirring flutter fashioned from bits of living sky. The world was a wonder greater than any magic sheТd ever made, and she had her place within it.
Ground and center. War may be coming, but it isnТt here yet. My son is over the mountains among enemies, but no harmТs come to him that I know. Plan for the future, yes, but live every moment as if it were forever, because it is. There is only now. Ground and center . . .
She sighed and blinked leaf-green eyes that were a little haunted even in times of joy, for they had witnessed the death of a world.
A few weeks ago the long mountainside meadow below Dun Juniper had been crowded with the tents and bothies of her clansfolk, come for the Lughnasadh rites and the games and socializing that followedЧstarting with shooting the longbow and on down to prize lambs and enormous hand-reared beets and Little League softball games. Now they bore the tents of outland visitors, and their hobbled horses grazed the lush green meadows; they and their followings were too large to all guest within the dunТs walls . . . and with some, it was more politic to keep them separate.
Largest was the great striped many-peaked pavilion that flew two banners. One was easy to make out; it was the crimson-on-black Lidless Eye of the Portland Protective Association, and not often seen on Mackenzie land. The other grew clearer as they approached and the wind caught at the heavy dark silk, a blue-mantled Virgin Mary standing on a depressed-looking dragon with drooping ears.
That was Sandra ArmingerТs personal banner, and Juniper suspected it was a joke in a subtle way; her household guards stood beneath it. Well-born young men in black armor of articulated plate and mail, graceful and arrogant as cats . . . though much better disciplined, and under the eye of a grizzled veteran who bowed and bent the knee to the Mackenzie chief and her spouse with punctilious Association courtesy.He had the golden spurs of knighthood on his boots.