"Wentworth-AsYouSow" - читать интересную книгу автора (Wentworth K D)K.D. WENTWORTH AS YOU SOW The market stalls teemed with chattering wives and white-bearded old men whose arguing voices vied with the screech of the gulls overhead in the ice-blue spring sky. Ungern smelled the salt spray in the breeze and wished he could watch the boats in the harbor instead of returning to break his back in the landlord's endless flax fields. "Birdseed!" a querulous voice rose over all the others. "Come and buy my fine seed!" Ungern craned his head, trying to see to the end of the cobbled street. Yes, that was him, Konstantin Poeg, the last birdseed merchant in all of Estonia. He felt a surge of relief. Sonya would have flayed the hide off him if he had arrived too late. The old peddler, a small, bristly man with wild-looking eyes, plucked at the burlap bags laid out before him on a wobbly plank table. "So, friend, what sort of birds shall you plant this year?" Ungern reached into his pocket. "Nightingales." He laid a single copper coin "Nightingales." Poegstroked his bushy write beard. "Well, if I had some left, they would cost two coppers a seed. As it is, I'm afraid I sold all I had three villages ago." "Oh." In his mind, Ungem saw how his wife's raisin-black eyes would stare holes through his body if he came home without her seeds. She meant to have nightingales this summer, and if she didn't get her way, there would be no peace or comfort in his one-room cottage for much longer than he cared to think about. He cleared his throat. "Haven't you got something else for one copper?" "Now, let me see." The old man poked through his heap of burlap sacks, then picked one up. "What about some fine fat geese? I can let you have two of my best grays for one copper." A tantalizing vision of roast goose and golden-yoked boiled eggs floated through Ungern's head~ then he sighed and slid the lonely coin back into his pocket. "My wife has her heart set on songbirds and one copper is all we have." "One copper will not even cover my expenses on songbirds!" The peddler leaned over the plank table. "I suppose you think just anyone can harvest birdseed. Well, if you don't find the eggs before the new life quickens, they hatch all by themselves in the ordinary way. Have you ever tried climbing a towering tree to find a nest, not to mention a cliff, or fought your way into a bramble thicket? |
|
|