"Sheri S. Tepper - Beauty" - читать интересную книгу автора (Tepper Sherri)

because I had no money of my own, and I thought that though God might forgive my robbing the
well-to-do, he would not forgive my increasing the distress of the poor. Dressed in these uncouth
garments, dirt on my face, and with my hair twisted up under a grubby cap, I presented myself at the
stables asking for whatever work Martin, the head groom, could give me. I am fairly sure Martin knew
who I was, but we both preserved the fiction that I was a boy from the countryside, one Havoc, a miller's
son, whom Martin employed in order to take advantage of youthful enterprise. If we had ever been found
out, I would have sworn on the Holy Scripture that he was guiltless, so grateful to him I was, and I
believe he relied upon my protection in the event our game was discovered.
It was in the stable I learned to ride long before the aunts had me dressed in voluminous skirts and
perched upon a sidesaddle, one of Grandfather's inventions. I do not think the sidesaddle will catch on.
Most women ride sensibly astride, and I cannot imagine their giving it up for something both so
uncomfortable and of such doubtful provenance. According to the stable boys, the sidesaddle was
designed to protect a maiden's virginity, while risking the maiden's neck. Risking rather much for rather
little, I thought at the time, though of course I knew nothing practical about the matter then and scarcely
more today.
Martin sometimes asked me to exercise the horses and take them down through the little wood to the
stream for water. It was there I first met the pointy-eared boy. He came strolling out of the copse,
introduced himself as Puck, and asked my name. When I told him Havoc, he laughed. "I know that's you,
Beauty," he said. When I asked him what he was doing in my woods, he told me he was keeping an eye
on me for someone. I assumed Martin had sent him, simply because I couldn't think of anyone else who
might care to have me looked after. After that, I saw him every now and then. Once in a while he would
tell me stories. They were not like the stories anyone else told. He spoke of God, but not as Father
Raymond did. Some of the things he said sounded greatly like blasphemy to me, and I told him so. I
assumed he was some woodcutter's son, told off to watch me whenever I left the stables, which wasn't
often because that's where things were going on and people talking about things I might not have learned
about otherwise.
It was in the stables that I learned about animal procreation and saw enough of stable boy anatomy to
draw certain useful parallels. Though the boys' equipment suffers by comparison to that of the stallions,
the similarity of function cannot be ignored. I think it odd that the aunts have never said anything about
this matter. There are a great many things they simply do not discuss with me. They did not even tell me
about the way of women, and when it happened I thought God was punishing me for having certain
feelings about a certain person by letting me bleed to death. It was Doll who found me weeping and told
me it was all very ordinary and had nothing to do with sin.
Doll is Martin's wife. Doll is short for Dorothy. She was named for St. Dorothy who was a virgin
martyr known for her angelic virtue. Doll says she wishes she had been named for someone a little less
angelic and a bit more muscular. She is one of the women who keeps the castle swept and the cobwebs
pulled down, and that takes muscle. I'm sure she has always known what I was up to in the stables, but
she has never told on me. Doll and one of the other women make clothes for me, too, and I thank God
for that. If it were up to the aunts or Papa, I'd always be dressed in things out of the attic made for
ancient female relatives in their latter years. Doll and Martin are my first two friends.
My third friend is Giles.
Giles is one of the men-at-arms. He is a year or two older than I, well-grown for his age, very broad
in the shoulder and slender though well-made in the hip and leg. He has a frank and open countenance
and much soft brown hair which falls over his forehead at odd times, making him look like a much
younger person. His eyes are blue, deep blue, like an evening sky. His lips ... He has very nice features. I
have had certain thoughts about him from time to time, thoughts which I have not even told Father
Raymond about, because I would blush to do so. Besides, I don't have any polite words to use because
either there aren't any or no one has taught them to me. I know how the stableboys talk, but Father
Raymond definitely would not appreciate that. Nonetheless, when I see Giles, I think of the stallions and
their way with the mares, and I get all flushed feeling.