Black Horses for the King
- Автор: Маккефри Энн
- Язык: английский
- Жанр: Научная фантастика
Электронная книга - «Black Horses for the King». Краткое содержание книги:
After his father's death, young Galwyn Varianus is apprenticed to his uncle, who puts the boy to work on the high seas. But horses, not ships, are Galwyn's passion. Luckily, a passenger aboard, Lord Artos (later to rule as the legendary King Arthur), is bound for the great horse fair at Septimania. Risking his life, Galwyn abandons his uncle to serve the gallant leader. Galywn's calming way with horses quickly impresses Lord Artos and his men. But what no one expects is how crucial Galwyn will be to their upcoming battles--as he masters the secrets of the iron shoes that will protect the exotic horses' delicate hooves. . . .
"Galwyn," my uncle bawled, "make yourself useful for once. Help the lords with their baggage. And lead them to the Golden Swan. It's the only place in the port that would suit friends of Prince Cador's. Go with them so the landlord knows he's to give them his best… Only thing you are good for," he went on, though not as loudly, "is cackling in whatever it is they speak here! How you know what's what from all that gabble, I wouldn't know."
He shook his finger at me. "See that you listen well and make sure this Comes is well taken care of. You hear me, now, Galwyn."
"Yes, uncle … Of course, uncle … I understand, uncle," I said whenever I could insert a word. I tried not to give away how happy I was to carry out that order. It wouldn't suit Gralior to think he had me doing something I wanted to do.
Then my uncle, all obsequious, bowed Lord Artos and his Companions down the plank that served to connect ship to shore.
"The lad knows the way, Lord Artos, and the rough speech that's all the landlord of the Swan can manage. Not a civil word in that man's head, but Galwyn will let him know that he will have no more of my trade if he does not give you of his best." Then, almost snarling at me because Bericus, Bwlch, and the others were picking up their own travel gear-"Take the packs, Galwyn. Help them. Don't just stand there with both arms the same length. You're not a spoiled juvenile now. You work for your living."
Scooting out of the way of my uncle's heavy-sandaled foot, I tried to take one of the packs from Lord Artos, but his hand restrained me.
"Lead on, Galwyn, lad, there's a good fellow," the Comes said, and gave me a gentle push.
I caught one glimpse of Gralior scowling at me and hoped that he would have recovered by the time I returned. Perhaps, I thought traitorously, lean delay.
"And come you right back, Galwyn. There's cargo to unload," my uncle shouted just as we reached the first dwellings.
WELL, THE GOLDEN SWAN was a distance from the harbor. Even my uncle had to admit that, and I could always say that it took me a while to get the landlord to understand exactly what was needed.
In truth, I knew the local dialect so well that I had no trouble at all making Landlord Ercus understand that these guests were men of quality and rank. Besides, any fool could have seen that in a glance, and Ercus was no fool.
"My uncle, the good Gralior," I began tactfully, "said that only your inn would serve the Comes Britannorum and his Companions. You do have rooms available?"
"Of a certainty I do, young Galwyn," Ercus said, for he could be as tactful as I. "And as good a meal as any could ask for after a sea voyage."
"Well, they do need your very best food to settle their stomachs, Ercus."
And I reported my conversation to Lord Artos, who smiled and nodded. Then I went to the business of settling a price for the lodgings and determining how long they would be needed.
"You are hosting friends of Prince Cador, who trades here often enough for you to give your best price to these," I said. It took me time enough to argue his price down, but I did it. Fortunately, Artos had gold rings to pay for his needs and these were accepted everywhere.
"For the one room large enough to sleep the six of you, he will charge a quarter ring." I turned to Artos. "Another quarter to feed you, but the wine you drink is extra. He does have good wine," I added, for I knew Er-cus's reputation from other inns.
So the prices were settled, and as a meal could be served immediately to the men made very hungry by the three days' abstinence, I had no choice but to leave them to it.
I trotted the last few streets so that I would arrive breathless at the ship and perhaps prove to my uncle that I had arranged matters with dispatch.
THAT NIGHT, AS i LAY on a straw pallet in the hold of the Corellia, which was still redolent of seasick odors, I thought of Comes Artos's quest. Horses! How much I missed our horses. Before my father had lost all his substance in two seasons of disastrous storms, we had had many fine beasts in our stables. I had owned a fine mettlesome pony whom I had ridden as if we two were a single centaur. My father's sergeant-at-arms had grudgingly admitted that I was likely to make a competent horseman, and that was praise indeed from that stern fellow. What time I had to spare from my lessons and duties as my father's heir had been spent in the stable.
I ought not even to have thought of horses; they brought back too many painful memories. But I could scarcely help myself. Fine big strong horses, to be ridden by fine big strong men! Surely they'd need a horse boy to assist them on their travels? Surely I could make myself so useful to the Comes Britannorum that he would beg the loan of me from my uncle. That faint hope blossomed into determination as I lay there listening to the creaks and groans of the ship, and the restless slap of the river against her hull.
There is little that travels faster in a seaport town than word of rich patrons and mad quests. But I only learned of the rumors later, for at first light my uncle had roused me to accompany him while he bargained for some suitable cargo. Local wine and oil in amphorae, several bales of fine Egyptian cotton cloth, and some beautifully tanned and colored Ibernian leather were acquired by midmorning, and my uncle was not displeased, though never so much as a word of thanks- much less praise-rewarded my efforts. In truth, I had had no trouble with the corrupt Latin, larded though it was with the wretched Ibernian patois.
I was back on board the Corellia when the stable lad of the inn came with a message for my uncle from Lord Artos. My uncle scowled as he scanned the scrap of parchment, and then he glanced ominously at me.
"Humph. He's asked for you, boy. Seems as if you did as you were told for once and saw them well settled at the Swan. Now he needs your tongue to buy mounts for his journey," my uncle said. "Off you go, and use your wits for Lord Artos's sake in this matter, too. Prince Ca-dor would have him assisted in every way, even by such a one as you."
He gave me a light cuff to remind me of my manners, and I scrambled off the ship and after the inn lad as fast as I could-before the expression on my face could ruin this opportunity.
Not only did I know languages, I knew horses. Perhaps my notion of becoming indispensable to Lord Artos had some chance. My uncle had his cargo-with my help. Could I not now become part of this quest for great warrior horses?
THE Comes AND HIS COMPANIONS had slept late, despite the noise about the busy inn, and had just finished breaking their fast when I rushed in upon them. "Ave, Galwyn, well come," Artos said, expansively gesturing me to their table. It bore little but crumbs, and so many empty platters that I suspected his Companions had made up for the three days of meals they'd missed. Lord Artos caught my glance and his grin was mischievous. "I haven't understood a word that's been said to us. This Ercus, our host, garbles Latin as if he's chewing tough beef. Signs suffice in ordering a meal, but I'd rather know the price I must pay for decent mounts and to hire a reliable caravan leader."
"It's my honor, Lord Artos, my honor," I managed to reply, curbing an impulse to puff my experience in such matters. I would prove it with deeds, not words.
ONCE AWAY FROM THE PORT, Burtigala spread out, sprawling beyond the town boundaries originally set up by the Roman governors of the province. The bustling market area was built on the Roman design, despite the cramped tiny stalls that cluttered the space near the slave pens and along the animal fields. There were many people about, and I noticed the Companions staring at the occasional Nubian, black and splendid in richly colored robes; the slim, swart men whose rolling gait marked them as traders from the Levant; the big Goths swaggering an arrogant path through the crowds of small-statured folk. All, in their turn, marked my Lord Artos and his tall, muscular Companions and slowed their pace so that they did not overrun us. All around were the jabbering and liquid sounds of many languages, fragments of which I could identify as we passed the speakers.