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yelping of the dogs, their even more savage tearing at the chase once it had
been surrounded and pulled down and before they were beaten off by the
huntsmen all this went directly against something deep in both of them.
On the other hand, Jim knew very well that from the fourteenth-century
viewpoint, such feelings were nonsense. The meat from beasts hunted and killed
was a needed addition of protein to winter-bound diets if not that of the lord
and lady in the castle, then at least to the servants in that same castle and
even those outside it. Wild game, from rabbits to boar or even bear although
bears had just about become nonexistent in the south ofEngland by this
time was not only worthwhile but a necessary thing.
Still, he and Angie could not help feeling that the chasing and killing was
too much like a Roman holiday with games in the arena at this point in his
thoughts Jim felt his elbow nudged.
He lifted it and his head, to discover that a cloth was being spread on the
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table and pitchers of wine and water, with a large glass cup, had been set in
front of him, together with some small baked pies.
"Just in case your Lordship should wish something after all," murmured
Gwynneth in his ear.
Jim managed to contain the sigh that started inside him. It was no use. He
had to sit here with food in front of him, if only because that his servants
would be uncomfortable if he didn't. However, the interruption had joggled his
thoughts off hunting back to his problems; and it occurred to him that while
Tom Huntsman might not be the ideal herald himself as someone who was deeply
involved with hunts, which meant deeply involved with the noble class he might
have more knowledge of heralds than anyone else in the castle at the moment.
Besides, at the moment he was the only lead that Jim had.
"Send him to me," said Jim to Gwynneth.
"Yes, m'Lord."
Jim waited. He never usually had to wait long for anyone who served in the
castle, because normally they came at once, and came at a run.
Absent-mindedly, he found himself dumping a little bit of wine into his cup.
He stopped and filled it up with water. It was almost tasteless in the
proportions in which he mixed it, but that was all to the good. He sipped at
it, thoughtfully. His mind had automatically gone off to things he would need
to tell the dragons at Cliffside.
One of the things to get very clear was where the dragons would stay, until
it was time for them to come forward into the play or some of them, Jim
corrected his thought. There were over a hundred Cliffside dragons. That was a
lot of dragon. Probably, the answer was just to have four or five of them come
forward as representatives of the whole group.
Also, it would be a good idea to have them all warned to stay back among the
trees, and not make any particular show of themselves. That would help keep
the fighting men among the guests from getting either nervous or combative. In
fact, it would be best if he announced to the assembled guests that dragons
would be there; but he was putting a magic wall between them and the dragons,
so that they could not get to the dragons, or the dragons get to them on
second thought, it had better be expressed only as "the dragons could not get
to them"
"M'Lord?"
He woke up from his contemplation of his cup and his thoughts to see Tom
Huntsman standing in front of the table, with his cap in his hands.
"Ah, Tom!" said Jim as genially as he could make himself sound. "I'm afraid I
haven't paid as much attention to the kennels as I should, what with being
away from the castle, and having so many other things to do while I'm here. I
trust the hounds are all right?"
"They do well, m'Lord," said Tom.
"How many of them are there now?" asked Jim.
"Twenty-nine, m'Lord," said Tom. "Harebell and Gripper died this last winter.
But just a week gone, Styax, one of the younger bitches, gave us a good litter
of nine pups, five of which I wager will make the pack, if they last through
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this winter."
"Good!" said Jim. "Very good. And they're all in good health, and that sort
of thing?"
"They need exercise, m'Lord," said Tom.
There was not the least note of reproach in Tom's voice. Jim was quite aware
that Tom exercised the hounds daily, taking them out for long runs, and in
fact running with them through the woods. But he did not hunt with them. He
called them in if they started on the trail of any scent at all. Actually
hunting with the dogs was an occupation for people of higher rank than just
the castle huntsman; even though he knew much more about it than any of those
around him at any given time. So there was no sound of complaint to be heard
in his words, now, but a sort of aura of censure radiated from him.
"Well, well," said Jim, "I must find time to go out with them soon. Yes,
soon. However, Tom, that isn't the reason I wanted to see you. Lady Angela is
arranging for a play to be given during our visit at the Earl's castle."
"Indeed, m'Lord," said Tom.
"Yes," said Jim. "And a need for someone to play the part of a herald has
arisen. I thought you might know of someone who could act the part. He would
have to know how to sit a horse, and to blow a herald's trumpet."
"There is no one in or about Malencontri who can blow a trumpet, m'Lord," [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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