Eric
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Chapter 1
Frozen a warm mushroom rain. Rare rays of the sun seemed to say goodbye to the leaves and grass, caressing them at last with neat touches. A dense fog was already flowing light, milk haze between the mighty trees, trying to fill the entire district. A blonde boy of about fourteen was flying along a forest path, touching the ground a little. Behind him, picking up his skirt, his mother was in a hurry. They fled the last of their strength, but it was impossible to stop, because the killers were chasing them. The guy wanted to stop and meet the offenders with dignity, as they killed his father, his two sisters and his three older brothers - his whole family - before his very eyes. The hatred and lust for revenge soared, bursting out of control, but the mother's strict look forced her to keep her prudery and continue her flight. They were heading to the old family crypt to hide from the chase. There were rumors that he was fascinated to safely store those who had blood in their veins, it is possible that this is fiction, but they have nowhere to hide. When the entrance to the crypt was just a few steps away, her mother screamed. Eric turned around and saw that she was sitting on the ground, and her pale face reflected fear, but what is there - a real horror. Seeing that her son hesitated, she yelled angrily: "Run! ". The guy wanted to rush to her, but two arrows whistled just next to him and had to hurry to hide behind a tree. Fear, pain, hatred - all mixed up in the body of this still very young man and seethed, issuing silent tears that quietly and helplessly rolled down his cheeks. Fortunately, to amuse himself with self-pity, the beloved did not give him-an arrow hit the trunk of the tree, and the mother crawled away, trying to distract the pursuers. He wiped his tears and, taking advantage of the moment, rushed to the side of the crypt to hide there. A jump, another jump and now a spiral staircase. Flying into the hall, he rushed past the resting ancestors to the far wall - there was in the corner a small niche near the floor, sufficient to hammer in and safely hide. Literally at the very wall, not noticing something on the floor, Eric stumbled, waved his hands and, knocking down some dust-covered stone from the ritual support, flew to the floor. The murderers who came next found a guy who was no longer breathing, apparently breaking his head in a hurry. His life was interrupted in May 6704 from the creation of the world, that is, in 1196.
The warm April days of 2006 were going on. All of Russia was preparing to selflessly drink vodka in honor of the May holidays, a miniature salary and zero prospects. Our hero did not consider it necessary especially to stand out from the crowd in this honorable cause. Prepared to prepare Artyom for everything thoroughly. That is why, first of all, I bought everything necessary in advance, and secondly, I chose a place on the shore of a small river near Moscow, where, due to natural silence, Bacchus will be paid due tribute. Yes, it is him, since no other ancient deity is in our honor, as this merry fellow and joker. But, alas, this time his plans were not destined to come true. Yesterday an old friend called Jean, whom they met at a historical festival in the distant 2001. They there managed, having typed "for acquaintance", to fall down in a cesspool near to a cowshed. The process of swimming in the fragrant pond and the selfless struggle for getting out so close to them, that the guys became friends. In fact, his name was not Jean, but Ivan Kolodka, but the nickname so attached to him that all friends and friends just so his name. He was known as a good master of art forging, but this is more for the soul than for the cause. He also lived by the fact that for the last seven years he had been making armor for lazy lovers waving a halberd or falshion on a bougurta. If you do not know, then the correct bugurt is a massive staged battle in authentic equipment. His affairs were going very well, and the armor was sorted out like hot pies, and for quite expensive. And in the spring of 2003 he moved to live in Switzerland and buys there a small country house with a plot of land in a remote countryside in order to enjoy the smithy crafts for wealthy lovers of armor exclusives from around the world in a pleasant and quiet environment. Last year, the idea came to expand the range of its activities and master the production of alcoholic beverages for authentic medieval technologies. Why alcohol? So in fact the bachelor's life obliges - though it is pleasant, but sometimes unbearably boring. And here not only its own, natural and quality, as they say, "without chemistry", so also authentic wine and mead. And the soul is nice, and health is not in harm. So, he found materials describing the ways of making such drinks, figured out the technologies and began to build working premises, starting with a spacious cellar for storage and aging. The basement was built in the regime of not hitting a recumbent, that is, without hurrying anywhere, with your own hands. And then - in his spare time from work in the smithy. All would be nothing, but just a week ago, during the digging of the cellar, our newly-born Swiss stumbled upon some ruins - either the roof of the old house, or something else, but clearly something medieval. Quickly having realized that it's better to keep quiet (is there not much that is valuable there? ), And quickly completed the barn over the place of the failed basement (for hiding from prying eyes), he called, as you already guessed, our hero. So, let me recommend - Artem Zhilin, 30 years old, associate professor at the department of medieval history in a major Moscow university. He teaches three medieval languages: vulgar Latin, Old Russian with its artificial church form (Old Slavonic) and Middle Greek, which, however, is also called Byzantine. He is also the organizer and participant of many visits to archaeological excavations and the permanent head of the club for military historical reconstruction at the university, where he teaches the children historical fencing and making replicas of equipment. For what "struck" a small room under the workshop and for several hours every day in the university gym. Agree - an interesting characteristic. At first glance it seems that he is "a member of the Komsomol, an athlete and just a beauty. " And if you dig deeper? Let's start with the nickname, because it often very well characterizes the person, and our sophisticated intellectual in certain circles was called just like the Mustang. Agree - uncharacteristic for a quiet and smiling dandelion, who lectures on the medieval world from the university department and occasionally, sweating from overexcitation, wipes his pince-nez with a handkerchief. Our hero was born into a poor family and from the very childhood had to literally gnaw out from life what he needed. Parents, of course, tried, but, alas, not everything was in their power and capabilities. Therefore, Artyom grew up a strong, energetic and very energetic man, who was used to trying to achieve his own without long discussions. While still studying at the institute, he started his own business, but all of us, dearly loved by us, came in 1997, and left him in almost the same family shorts, completely burned out. This lesson, received in the twenty-first year of life, affected the style of his work, as he did not even think of retreating and dropping his hands. Pritorgovyvaya every possible counterfeit goods - from disks with software to polished skulls and other extravagant crafts, he lived to the end of his training. Not very nice, but it was necessary to live somehow and for some means. And eat smelly, and sleep softer. 2000 was a turning point in his life - it was at this time that he was fond of military historical reconstruction and fencing. Studenthood came to its finale, and on the horizon, the prospects of enlistment in the Red Army squads of the name of Kashchenko began to be clearly outlined. Of course, on a budget department. No, he was neither lazy nor weak, but the service in the army did not bring him any personal benefit at all - some problems. Yes, yes, yes - many will resent what they say, but what about the Fatherland? Or put forward the theses, like "only service in the army will make you a real man. " Alas, all these arguments are empty, as he had to achieve everything in his life solely on his own, and when he began to rise, his beloved Fatherland threw him and deprived him of everything. And he was not engaged in any trade or other heresy, but deployed a small service to repair household appliances, that is, he did a useful thing for people and the Fatherland. As for the physical training, it was better for him than for most graduates, since one can and should achieve one's own and need differently. Sometimes it does not interfere with the eye, for understanding the words. Therefore, as a very pragmatic person, he considered service in the army as a waste of time and effort, and therefore applied for postgraduate study. Combining the passion and the forced measure, he was able to achieve a very good result and defended his excellent thesis. At the same time he pierces the experimental laboratory for the department of medieval history, where he is engaged in creating replicas of equipment and armaments and exploring them comprehensively. In the second year of training, using the equipment that he bought for the grandee he won, he began to produce a variety of thematic crafts for sale - primarily cast bronze and tin items. It went well, and not bad. Having realized what is happening, he not only turns around the laboratory a circle of military historical reconstruction, which, under cover of which, seriously increases the volume of production, but also begins to use students in the technological processes of the workshop itself. In general, in the spring of 2006, he operated a small workshop, in which enthusiastic students worked "for thank you", and he, selling through these acquaintances in one large store these articles, received up to 120-150 thousand each month. In total, his monthly income went for 300 thousand. True, for the sake of cover, he was forced to teach students, leading some ridiculous seminars and lectures. After such a recommendation, it remains only to add a few touches. The fact is that Jean of the serious archaeologists and historians in friends was only Artem, who from the graduate school diversified his leisure not only with official excavations, but also with black archeology, and therefore had vast experience in such matters. So there were few options, more precisely, there was only one named Zhilin. Our assistant, of course, agreed, took a two-week vacation at his own expense and flew as quickly as possible to Switzerland at the invitation, to meet with his intrigued friend. Fortunately, he already traveled more than once to Jean, so that he was given a visa very quickly and easily.
Jean met Artyom at the airport in Zurich. All problems at customs were quickly settled, and the guys moved forward towards the village house of our blacksmith, where, gloriously "pogudev", fell into a coma deep deep in the morning. And you thought that such a worthy and enthusiastic history of the guys will start right away to the point? Too bad. The guys at us have appeared romanticists, and to what romance the champagne of vodka in the company of the friend is alien? So it turned out that only by the evening of the second day they were able to walk, in an embrace with a terrible headache, to the place of excavation. The next ten days it is especially meaningless to describe, since the time dragged on quite monotonously, and represented some kind of organic symbiosis from alcoholic discussions, excavations and comatose dreams. By the end of the eleventh day they shoveled the quite impressive pit and were able to completely open a small building, which, apparently, was the entrance to a certain underground hall, as the ceiling of a more massive structure said, which turned out to be two meters deeper. Judging by all the external signs, it was some sort of medieval family crypt. We decided to enter the next day.
"Why? I needed a quiet place to work.
- And we have that, so you were prevented from killing the cuirass?
- Yes, they interfered. Do you remember how I ran around the authorities for the last year?
"Of course, only I still do not quite understand what exactly happened there. "
- It's simple - I tried to legalize to get a bank account and work normally with clients from countries of rotten capitalism.
"I remember that you left here almost immediately after that fuss. "
Right? Just there, legalized as an individual entrepreneur, I got a terrible amount of hemorrhoids and serious losses in finance, that is, I realized that now I'm working for food. You understand it's funny.
"So they tore it up? "
- Yes, exactly, and these clever men turned out to be so weak mind that they tore more than they could. But now they are on horseback - they do not get anything from me at all. And if they had smaller appetites, they could continue eating.
- I had orders from Germany and Britain, and customers wanted guarantees, as the amounts were rather big. It was absolutely wild to them that some master in far-away Russia is engaged in the manufacture of such high-quality handicrafts on the sly.
- Okay, let's not talk about sad things. What do you think of our find? I, frankly, find it difficult to comment on it. According to the style of architecture, it should refer to the early Middle Ages, maybe even to the Viking Age, and settle much further north. And then - no family vaults were built in those days, it was not accepted.
- Yes, I am also completely confused - no understanding of where it came from here. Especially since there were no locks and large settlements near those times. Okay, let's sleep. Tomorrow will be a hard day.
When they neatly opened the door in the morning and entered the room, they almost squealed with delight - judging by the thick layer of dust on the floor, this room had not been stepped by a man's foot for several hundred years. Can anybody imagine? The center of Europe and such finds! Wearing gas masks, taking flashlights and neatly descending the spiral staircase of stone, the guys got into a spacious hall with an area of about a thousand square meters. It was evenly studded with completely marble columns that were not decorated, supporting the grid of arched vaults. Between them the entire hall was filled with granite tables on which corpses that had been drained by time were lying in full parade. Almost all of the deceased were dressed in armor, and only a few are wrapped in pieces of decayed rags. It was embarrassing. The fact is that in the Christian tradition to bury with weapons is not accepted, and judging by the symbolism, this crypt was just that. In general - a completely incomprehensible and inexplicable phenomenon. At the far end of the hall was a free platform with a round bronze table of a strange kind in the center. While Jean was interested in picking chain mail on the nearest corpse, studying the shape of the rivets, Artem moved to this strange place. The table was in diameter of all centimeters thirty and had in the center a round support with a small notch in the form of an inverted pyramid. Through the dust, some letters appeared, so he gently cleared the pad and was able to read a passage of the phrase in Latin: "Animus intra manium ", the rest of the edge is destroyed along with the inscription, probably from time. A completely strange meaning, which, apparently, was some esoteric formula, alas, partially destroyed, in Russian it could be read as: "A living soul inside the soul of the deceased ". In general, it is completely incomprehensible, as, actually, and in general the purpose of this strange structure of cast bronze. After thinking about it, Artem began to circumnavigate the table, examining it for advice or other interesting details. Something rolled beneath the foot. He bent down and pulled out of the thick layer of dust a pretty decent polished piece of lapis lazuli or a similar egg-shaped stone. From one end this piece had a ledge in the shape of a pyramid. The first thought, as you guessed it, was to put this stone on a stand and evaluate the composition. Artem blew dust from the stand, looked back, looked at Jean's watchful and interested look, who, after neglecting the study of chain mail, watched Artem's actions, and inserted the stone into the hollow. Then he took three steps away from the stand, smiled and, momentarily frozen, collapsed to the floor. And the stone on the stand behind him sprang to the bronze surface of a handful of bright blue dust. Jean ran to Artem, felt his pulse and began to convulsively massage his heart. But it was too late - our hero left for the country of eternal hunting with a smile on his lips.
Severe pain in the head and darkness. Artem tried to understand what happened to him, but the reality swam away, as if chuckling at him. Even to collect thoughts did not work - they, reptiles, ran and jumped like mad in the head. Strongly muddied. His head and arms were wet and sticky in something, and his ears were so buzzing that all the sounds around him were oddly intertwined in a strange echo from the working transformer. An attempt to call Jean was not crowned with success-only a kind of choked wheeze flew from his throat, and even that was very quiet. Lying on the floor and plenty of old dust, Artem realized that there was nowhere to wait for help, and slowly crawled to the place from which he was drawn by a weak breeze. The darkness was pitch-black, so much so that sometimes thoughts of loss of sight came to my mind. The body completely disobeyed and was greatly numb, because of this in the hall he crawled for about an hour, from time to time losing consciousness and bumping into tables and columns. Then a lot of time left for the overcoming of the spiral staircase. Having got out upstairs, exhausted and tired our poor fellow finally disconnected. However, he was lucky that he got out into the fresh air, so the loss of consciousness slowly went into a healthy sleep. The morning awakening brought freshness and bodily vigor. Opening his eyes and stretching, he twisted - his head shot from every movement, again began to vomit. Apparently, a concussion occurred to him, but he could not understand what he could do about it. And where did Jean go? Did this hero leave him alone to lie in the dust? It's not like him. Slowly rising and with half-closed, sleepy eyes, he went out into the opening of the house he had unearthed. He looked in front of him and froze. A couple of times blinked and, opening his eyes wide, fell on the ass with a surprised expression on his face. How could it be otherwise? Around, instead of a pit with a shed was a forest, and the house was not in a large hole, but level with the ground. Miracles! Was he so magically caressed on the head that he became so exotic raving? At that moment, his head shot back with pain, and Artem, reflexively, grabbed her hand. Instead of a small, neat "hedgehog" were long hair laid in a hairdress - the usual plague, dirty. Sharply yanking his hand away from his head, he examined it. The state of general surprise intensified with each new fact - and now his gaze wandered over the hand of a teenager who, for some reason, was all smeared with blood. Hastily examining himself, Artem issued a plaintive howl, more like the whining of a battered dog - after all, he even had no hair between his legs. And instead of a well and harmoniously pumped body was the body of an ordinary teenager. Not very flimsy, of course, but a teenager. Charming, just charming!
Yeah, business. Not every day and not every character is in a similar situation. Well, what should I do? Lie down and die? It is necessary to understand. So, we have a situation connected with changing the perception of the surrounding reality. That is, our hero suddenly began to feel that the whole world around him changed. This can be the result of three incidents. First, he can sleep and see a remarkably realistic dream, in which he fully realizes himself. Secondly, his brain functions related to the processing of information received by the receptors were violated, in other words, the surrounding reality remained the same, just a defect in perception. Or, as a version of this version - just some sudden mental illness. Thirdly, it really turned out to be in some other spatio-temporal continuum, and its material realization, that is, the body, differs from the original version. What is the conclusion of all this? Surprisingly, the conclusion is the same and universal in the current situation. That is, in order to feel comfortable and organic, he must act as if everything that surrounds him is real. To do this, it is necessary to establish the most harmonious and natural interaction with the surrounding reality, that is, to live a natural and harmonious life. The question of the method of return arises, and, alas, is immediately excluded, because the memory of our hero does not possess information about the conditions and the "point of entry" into the current state, which speaks either of a "one-way ticket" or some factors that personally do not depend on it. Such factors can be anything - from a parade of planets in some stellar system, something there focused on a specific point of space, and the excessive concentration of a unique mixture of gases before the devil does not joke, divine intervention. He, of course, does not believe in the gods, but the fact of their existence, still does not exclude. So, sat our hero, puffed, touched an itchy temechko with a very solid wound and, beautifully telling the wind about all close and distant relatives of some grandmother for all the good things, began to look around. Literally ten steps from the crypt, they found a silk belt, and scraps of some dress. A small stash was sewn in the belt, only seven denarii and a dozen obolov. The grass was badly crushed and dirty in the blood - obvious traces of the struggle. He carefully studied his findings and again went into a stupor. The fabric was quite rough, and coupled with the storage method and type of coins, spoke of a low technological level. What a wonderful start! He still did not have enough to be in the Middle Ages. About the guys from the reconstruction clubs, all the options swept the blood, because it was a lot and it was fresh - so much blood could be lost, only with a good wound. It is possible that the person who bleeds died. In general, everything is somehow strange and suspiciously obtained. Well, all right, conclusions early. The sun had already risen above the treetops, and Artem decided to return to the crypt to examine it. Even during the excavation, he discovered a system of old copper mirrors to illuminate the room, and he decided to use them. He went downstairs, leisurely, walked around the hall, examining the corpses of long-dead people for profit. Strange as it may seem, the goal that led him to this crypt until he lost consciousness, not only did not go anywhere, but also intensified. Looting, though ignoble occupation, but he did not have options - he needs at least some property. As the fact that he is waiting for him ahead, he did not even imagine, therefore he considered it important to take out all the useful things from the current situation (and the crypt). Little help? For survival, all means are good. There was a lot of armor and weapons in the hall, but almost all of them were either not in size or substandard, mostly, of course, the last one. Rummaging through the bodies, he was able to discover only one thing that delighted him - it was a small crossbow, a very simple dressing, with glued bow and primitive descent. The body of the owner of this sensible unit was quite fresh and still unsweetenedly stank, which indicated a good chance of its functioning, albeit suffering from long-term storage. The most unpleasant thing was to remove the belt from the corpse with a hook. What did you want? Not everyone can restrain vomiting, gently embracing a fragrant stinking corpse. Our gatherer of ownerless property roamed the crypt for an hour and a half and chose a crossbow with a belt, a dozen bolts and a simple knife with a hard, narrow blade in neat sheath, in fact a dagger. By clothing, of course, it did not work out - either decayed, or badly in size, or strongly smelled of decay and decay so that a man in such clothes could easily accept a rebel dead man.
Gathering all his hare, the guy went out into the fresh air. Gently laying, bandaging and putting it on his shoulders, Artem went to look for some brook or other source of clean water. Went randomly, that is, on the only path that led from the crypt. It's hard to say whether he was lucky or not, but half an hour later they heard a distant murmur of the brook, which was discovered in about twenty minutes, but with great difficulty, as it flowed in thick reeds and willow. A little climbing along the stream he found a couple of large boulders, where he settled himself, to wash himself of his own blood.
Most of the day passed before Artyom, in damp but fairly clean clothes, went out again to the path. The tests of the crossbow resulted in a completely satisfactory result - his toy was stretched tightly with a belt, but beat quite accurately by 50 steps. The pull, snap, was no more than 80-85 kg, in general, for such devices a bit, because because of the short stroke of the bowstring, not all energy was transferred to the bolt. Although, it was difficult to assess the tension force because of a new body, which is still not used to. He walked quite quickly, as the evening was approaching rapidly. Already at dusk, from behind the turn, some wooden houses looked out, surrounded by a wooden wall with a gate. Nearby, at some distance was a very respectable courtyard with a busy homon inside. It was like either a big village or a small town with a completely mesmerizing view, especially the rooftops covered with rotten straw and the almost complete absence of traces of a technocratic civilization. Neither a crumpled pack of cigarettes, nor a used condom. Even the road looked as if the car did not defile it with its tires. This greatly alarmed and increasingly reinforced the version of the assessment of the surrounding space-time continuum as a deaf Middle Ages. Having stood a little on the edge of the forest and crumpled, stepping from foot to foot, pondering what is waiting for him inside, our hero nevertheless decided to move to this yard and look at everything closer, since he did not want to sleep on the street at all. Inside was a lot of people who drank, ate and made noise behind simple wooden tables. They looked quite normal for the countryside in the Middle Ages, that is - dirty, primitive clothes from a homespun cloth. When Artyom closed the door almost the whole tavern, with pale, surprised faces, stared at him. Artyom chuckled, bowed to the audience and, ignoring the massive, unconcealed stupor among the Aborigines, approached the peasant behind the counter. There he in Latin asked him about the room for a rest and dinner. He something pomochal in some German dialect, scratched the back of his head and, seeing a misunderstanding, shouted to some Luka. A minute later, a young guy in a cassock approached them, and acted as an interpreter, although, of course, he knew Latin very badly. The room at night and dinner with breakfast cost one obol, and there was food - how much you eat. Having eaten in the room, Artyom took his place on the trestle, after barricading the door with the help of a shop, undressing and washing. About five minutes later, our new boy was already fluttering in the arms of Morpheus. The most unusual thing for him was that he had to explain for a long time about water for ablution. It was so unexpected for the locals that only the third time they realized what exactly he was asking. Apparently local humanoid living creatures are not at all accustomed to regular water procedures. Strangely enough, but the old jokes about the "European dirty" are quite natural. And these are trifles, in comparison with what awaits him in case it really is a natural European Middle Ages.
The morning came suddenly. To wake up, our dormouse has warmed up and warmed muscles for half an hour. Only after that I washed the remaining water from the evening, dressed and went down to the common room to eat. There was quite free and incomparable with yesterday's crowd, only a few visitors and the host. When Artem moved to the counter, wanting to order something for breakfast, someone shouted loudly behind his back: "Eric! " Of course, our hero did not pay any attention to this scream and, reaching the counter, began to set out to the stranger, who was looking at him in surprise, what he wanted to eat. He tried to convey his thoughts in Latin, but apparently his companion did not possess it, so it was very slow and difficult. Artem tried to speak on the Middle Greek, but on the increased diameter of the concentrated eyes realized that this language he had not even heard, unlike the first. This already on the nerves of fun could continue for quite some time, but one of the visitors came up behind him, slapped him on the shoulder and said something to the owner of the tavern in the already familiar German dialect. Everything immediately began to move, and after a couple of minutes they were already sitting with strangers at the same table and having breakfast. This strange visitor, who introduced himself as Rudolph, was quite tolerant of Latin, so he could talk to him. It turns out that it was he who called Erica, that is, it. Artem decided to play a little and said that he hit his head badly, so he does not remember anything, even his name and his native language, only Latin. In evidence, he showed a thread where under the hair was a dissected section of skin in a crust of baked blood. In general, having eaten well, managed to talk interestingly. Rudolf was the friend of Eric's father, and wanted to meet with him yesterday in this tavern, located near the small town of Aarburg, on the banks of the Aar river. But it didn't work out The day before yesterday he was killed with all the children. So today, with the dawn, they were taken to the Munster Abbey, which is a few hours' journey to the southeast, in order to prepare for the burial. And his, youngest son, and his wife began to look for. They thought that they could escape from the killers, who, incidentally, had already been caught and hung in the trees near the village. His new acquaintance was very kind and, seeing the sour face of our youngster, decided to please a little. It turns out that he had an uncle who lived nearby, in the castle of Lenzburg. After the story of the kindness and responsiveness of a loving uncle, Rudolph suggested that they conduct there, of course, promising to return with him to the burial of the family. All this was surprisingly gracious, although alarming. But, alas, judging by the face of this solid white-bearded man, who was simply shining with happiness at the sight of his son, who was accidentally surviving his beloved friend, and neatly arranged people who performed the roles of visitors, they had no choice. So he also had to smile and say in the most joyful voice that he was immensely grateful to such a good and decent person and would gladly accept his help. Word for word, but after half an hour they were already moving slowly along the road with a small escort. Artem trotted on the mare next to Rudolph, and he told him with a good-natured smile some funny stories about the adventures with his father.
Lenzburg Castle met them with a vile, small rain. Careful Rudolph immediately ordered to feed the guy, and he drove off somewhere. Apparently, to report the arrival of the "valuable cargo". The further Artem went into his game, the more he began to dislike him. An unpleasant premonition tormented him. Only came to his senses after the injury, as he was dragged into an extremely dangerous adventure, probably dynastic. On the one hand, it was good, because to have a noble lineage in the Middle Ages meant to be a person, not a garbage. On the other hand, the relationship inside those seeds was extremely bloodthirsty - to slaughter his own son because of suspicion of trying to take away the throne was quite normal and ordinary. Well at least, do not stick to him about his Latin - the fact is that the servants in the castle turned to him out of habit in his, on the bird's, and he answered them in Latin. They probably thought that he was conceited or mocking them. It was funny that they recognized him, especially those two gay girls from the kitchen, they already squealed with delight when they saw him. Having eaten, he took a seat on the bench and decided to take a nap. Just did not get to sleep, because he was awakened by a messenger who suggested following him. Artem rubbed his eyes, stretched and yawned, followed the messenger, who led him to the big hall. They waited for him. In addition to Rudolph, there were seven other people, one of whom was sitting on an imposing chair from the far end of the table. The rest were scattered around the room: who was sitting at the table, who was by the fireplace, who was walking along the massive tapestry. Seeing the man who entered Artem, the man, who was seated from the end of the table, rose and with a cheerful face went to embrace him. Later he was introduced as Karl von Lenzburg, the baron of these lands. It is necessary to clarify the fact that the barony was formed quite recently. Uncle Carl's uncle Ulrich IV was the last representative of the count's house in Lenzburg, and, after his death in 1173, he bequeathed his possessions to the Emperor Frederick I Barbarossa, with whom he walked together on the second crusade. However, the castle with the land very quickly passed into the hands of the noble house of Cuburg through the acquisition of the allodial right to flax and the marriage of noble Richinza von Lenzburg, daughter of Ulrich IV, with Count Harman III von Kuburg. Initially, it was decided to use the seneschal to manage new lands, but he did poorly in his work because of uncontrollable and deft larceny. Old Harman was merciful and closed his eyes to it. However, when in 1180 after the death of his father Ulrich von Kubourg received a count of dignity, it was decided immediately to create a vassal barony in order to improve the effectiveness of management in these lands. Yes, and my mother's relatives were sitting on their neck for a long time - it's not a sin for them to work. Therefore, the brothers Charles and Henry were made from knights in the barons of von Lenzburg and received in joint management part of the land of the old county - the castle with the surroundings and the eight villages that are enclave, near the abbey of Munster. One misfortune - once amicable brothers fiercely hated each other and began to struggle for complete control over the ball. What they did not do, but the Count was inexorable - he was amused by their scuffle because of the scrap of what he threw at them. Well, that same Karl von Lenzburg turned out to be his own uncle, and therefore his radiant face did not inspire confidence at all, and Artyom tensed, expecting a dirty trick. Fortunately, the beloved relative tolerated Latin quite tolerantly, so their conversation did not cause any special problems - a quiet sweet talk with the family. Our hero was curious to see in the eyes of the interlocutor an uncovered desire to kill him, who fought with prudence, since such matters need nevertheless to be done more accurately. Therefore, he laughed heartily, squeezing out of himself all the available courtesy, cynicism and sarcasm. After sitting a little in the hall and chatting, they, at the invitation of the baron, with an escort from the faithful companion-Rudolph, went into the depths of the castle. Erica was very uneasy when they began to descend the spiral staircase to some kind of dungeon. But I tried to hold on, because immediately they did not zmordovali, then they will not, that is, they want something else. After descending, they fell into a long corridor, poorly consecrated by smoky torches. It was hot and stuffy, everyone began to sweat profusely. Passing almost to the end, the uncle went to the door and the key that hung on his belt, opened the lock. Inside, on the straw, sat a youthful middle-aged woman. Her green dress was somewhat rustic, but still spoke of the high status of the hostess, since peasant women did not wear such a dress-they could not afford it. The woman's eyes widened at the sight of our hero, she wanted to rush to him and hug him, but Karl hit her with a boot under his breath, so that she fell to the floor and, bending down, began to catch air.
" Here, look, nephew. "This is Berta - your mother. Do you recognize her?
" Uncle, I told you that I lost my memory. "I do not recognize anyone at all. But if she is my mother, then why are you beating her?
"This dirty beast hired assassins to kill your father, and she remained regent in front of you. "
It's stange You said that my brothers and sisters were killed, and I myself miraculously survived.
- It's all because this rubbish found bad performers, and they got carried away too much. They went so far as to even wound her.
"What are you talking about, you dirty pig! " The woman snarled, a little away from the blow.
aboutA bird's voice cracked. Said the uncle joyfully and, not in the least embarrassed, approached her closer, hit his face with his boot, pulled up his skirts and raped. Erica clearly led Rudolph, choosing such a position to neutralize and twist the guy, if he decides to do some rash acts. Yes, and for the reaction he watched, whether he does little to pretend and lies about losing memory. When my uncle finished, corrected the bre and kicked a couple of times to prevent the unhappy foot in the stomach, Artem asked:
- And why is this presentation?
- Heh. Nephew, you must learn how to deal with fallen women. She betrayed her husband, and therefore no longer needs to be respected. She is now a nothing, devoid of everything. Even life. She will be hanged at the gate of the castle, when she begins to disperse from suffering, so that everyone will see what happens to such wives.
" And Rudolf? "He was tense as a predator before a decisive leap.
- Noticed? Well done! Will come of you good. Even if you do not lose memory, it has changed a lot, it pleases. Here, - he turned to his comrade-in-arms, - see what my remarkable nephew is growing.
" Yes, I'm not smart for years. " - And they both laughed. And similar views with a visit to the camera were repeated more than once. He beat her, broke her bones, raped her. With the bones, he acted carefully, so as not to kill or strongly not to ruin by chance, and so he tried to inflict maximum pain on her with minimal damage. And every time these executions were obliged to attend our hero accompanied by Rudolph, who, from that very evening in the tavern, followed him literally on the heels, except that he did not go to sleep in an embrace.
From the hall, Eric went to his room. The next two days he spent in walks around the castle, going to the kitchen and a healthy dream. When he managed to escape from his eyes, he mastered his body, as his physical abilities were unclear for him. He jumped, pressed, pulled, tried to work with heavy objects and so on. This idyllic picture was only occasionally interrupted by campaigns to an unhappy woman, who was waiting for another portion of torture and bullying. The farther it went, the more Eric, it seemed that this most venerable uncle Carl himself ordered his brother with the whole family to remain the sole ruler. Forgive me, but this confusion with the names is completely unbearable, so in the future I will call Artem Eric, especially since all those around him believe so. On the third day, our hero, accompanied by a small retinue, advanced towards the generic vault of the Lenzburgs, which stood next to Halvilli Lake, to bury the relatives killed by hired assassins. Everything went quite calmly. They spent the night in a small tavern at the abbey. There he overheard the conversation of the peasants about what miracles are happening in these glorious lands, as the rumors of Karl's open and unconcealed joy, from the meeting of his living nephew, have already reached the enclave. Did he decide to give up his interests, of which he never made a secret? Business Alas, but there was no special mind to understand why Uncle so carefully met our hero. He was thinking of some combination, in order to wash himself off from fratricide in front of the count. And in this combination, an important role was assigned to Eric. The most obvious will be to write it off at a monastery or send it to a crusade. Itself is voluntary, because he is an intelligent guy and understands what he lacks goodwill. And then assign the rights, according to the will of an accidentally deceased, from some kind of fever or chronic constipation of the nephew, and get the desired flax into a complete and undivided possession. Therefore, all the way back to the castle, our newly crowned hereditary baron thought out ways to escape. In fact it is necessary to run with mind, and that will catch up and will make something terribly unpleasant. And then again catch up Returning to the castle, they made a ritual of visiting poor Bertha, who was once again raped and beaten, and then climbed into the hall for dinner. At the table, Eric spoke about the desire to go to the Holy Land, in order to glorify the memory of his father, that he fell from the hands of scoundrels and all that in the same spirit. This arrangement of the uncle completely satisfied, for his dream is not enough that it was finally implemented, but also implemented in a very clean and neat manner. Therefore, he supported the zeal of his nephew and asked Rudolph to take up the equipment for the guy. The old cunning man behaved so naturally that only the desire to impose on him a group of dozens of armed servants prompted suspicion of a dirty trick. Too hard he imposed them. Probably they will have to interrupt the way of the young baron, of course, during a heroic struggle with the infidels in the Holy Land, that is, in two or three days' journey somewhere in the forest. To give reason for suspicion Eric did not, but because they agreed on the fact that he equip horses, give armor, weapons, armed servants and money for the road, and he, in return, transmits, for the duration of the campaign, his rights to flax beloved uncle.
A week later, in preparation for the march, the young baron asked his uncle to give him a teacher, for training in equestrian combat. Since with his current skills he is more of an equestrian target than a warrior that is going to liberate Jerusalem. Uncle of this idea, of course, was not enthusiastic, but it fits perfectly into his scenario of a loving relative, and the people must remember how he, a caring uncle, prepared the guy, or else they would say that he said he was sending a guy as. So the teachers singled out. It is quite predictable that they turned out to be Rudolph. After two weeks of horseback riding, where they practiced landing and simple parts, they began to leave in full armor and learn how to maneuver, and with arms to wave in a cavalry fight. Of course, not to death. For Eric, this was all again, since in that life he always converged in the cabin only on foot, that on the bugurts, that in the tournaments. The science was good, although it was given away with extensive bruises, but a much rubbed booty, so after two months it became very nice to feel in the saddle. Of course, even to a satisfactory result, he was still very far away, but time was already running out, as his uncle began to strain in the nephew's company, all showing that it would be time for him to fall back to distant lands. The guy at us was clever and understood hints. Began to catch the moment. And now, three days later, my uncle left on business in Baden. It was decided to take immediate advantage of this - he went to Rudolph with the proposal that for the sake of learning, it would be possible for them to go on a campaign for a few days. His proposal was pleasant, and was favorably received. It is decided to advance at dawn. For a campaign in the Holy Land, his uncle used to dispatch 50 denarii to him. As a result, forty denarii he sews into the belt like a nest egg, and spends ten to ensure that his mail was brought to a proper state - that is, large holes were eliminated in it. He left the remaining coins in a leather purse to the waist, in order to show that he takes with him on the road not all. At night, the most difficult thing happened: it was necessary to get into the dungeon to Bertha, in this partisan raid he took only a small knife with him, which he stole in advance in the kitchen. She, of course, is not his mother, but this insidious peasant, who considers himself an uncle of our hero, needs to leave a surprise so that life does not seem to honey. The guards peacefully slept in their komorka, even without putting up a fast, and the door to the dungeon itself was open to allow for a little airing. Approaching the cell door, he quietly scraped it.
- Is there anyone alive? Asked the young baron in Latin.
EricSon. it's you. How did you get here? Answered the alarmed voice of the woman.
"Quietly? ! Shhh! Yes it's me. The guy whispered. "Do not wake the guards. "
" All right, I'll speak quietly "Is that really true? Have you really lost your memory?
- Yes, alas, it's true. I do not even remember the native language, I can only speak Latin. And to find out about what really happened, I could not at once, from the peasants. I'm still trying to pretend that I do not know anything and support the game of my uncle. But that's all - empty chatter, let's talk about the matter - how can I get you out of here? I do not know the dungeon device at all. Are there secret passages?
" Son, do not pull me out. "Do not risk so. Leave. I can not help you at all. This scoundrel has so exhausted me that I will no longer have life. My whole being is torn. One or two more weeks and I will die. What can you say, you saw everything yourself, - her voice became completely sad.
" If I give you a knife, can you use it to take revenge on your uncle? "I am constantly insured in his presence, so I can not even jerk.
"Give me the knife, I'll try to die with honor. "
Eric pushed the knife into the slot under the door and touched the fingers of this exhausted woman to his fingers.
- Go in peace with your son, may the Mother of God guide you. God knows, my father and I did not wish you such a fate, but the ways of our Lord are inscrutable
- Bert. My mother. Come to think again! What are you saying! ? We ourselves are forging our own lives. And if fate destined us to die - we must meet death with weapons in hand and a proud, bold look - let fate be suppressed. I do not even know if Walgal will take you. But go to the end, fight this insidious reptile until the last breath. We are not slaves in order to bow our heads to accept the fate of this weak and frail god - Jesus. If there is no other way, then go to death and accept this last battle as a warrior, even if weak in body, but strong in spirit. And let your enemy be afraid of you, even slain.
Son. Is that you!
- I'm a mother, I am this. In me much has changed after that blow. I already died once and my body was lying dead for 24 hours. I know what I am saying. Forgetting my past life, I remembered the ancient knowledge. We are not slaves of any God there. We - the descendants of ancient and proud warriors, that they cut their lives through the boiling waves of adversity. And you - a woman, going to meet your fate should not humbly wait for the death of someone. Or are you like a slave to endure violence against yourself and humiliation to the laughter of the crowd, not having the pride to fight even without a chance of success? Too much is forgotten, too much is etched out of us. But I say, fight, and let your last battle light the ancient Ass - One, and your hand will be as hard as the mighty hammer of the Torah.
" It hurts to hear this, my son. "But you're right. So right that in my chest everything is compressed from pain and grief. We were humble and cowardly in the face of the enemy, in fear we relied on God's will, not hardness of the hand and fled. For this and paid with their lives. You're right, my son - we all need to fight for every sigh, every moment and I'll fight - for you, for the sake of those who died, for the sake of those who will live. Now go, I need to prepare for death to meet her with dignity.
There was a long-awaited morning. Eric went on a hike, taking with him provisions for four days and with full armor, putting in addition to the sword, a dagger with a crossbow caught from the crypt. Rudolph regarded this as a whim of an inspired neophyte, and only smiled. They moved north not along the road, but along forest paths. The whole day passed fairly calmly. They spent the night on a picturesque edge with a gorgeous view, not a field and a small overgrown duckweed pond. In the morning, having left the parking lot in the field behind the pond, Eric was alert and began to peer into the distance, which extended beyond Rudolph's distant shoulder. He noticed the look and turned to look at what had so alarmed his young companion. Eric did not hesitate, snatched the dagger and slashed it on the girth of his master's saddle. And then, under the weight of a large man, it began to crawl swiftly, Rudolph, waving his hands, yelled, in his whole tinnitus, loudly and ornately swearing. Taking advantage of the satellite's confusion, the young baron rushed on his horse forward at full speed. When he disappeared behind the far turn of the road, Rudolph was already standing on his feet, holding the horse by the bridle, and smiling with a kind smile. He was a good student, smart.
Eric ran at a gallop on his horse for about a quarter of an hour and, only realizing that he was not being pursued, dropped speed and went easy trot. Toward evening, he met a small group of clerics and asked them about the area in which he is and what cities in the district. It turns out that in the daytime passage to the north-west, the border town of Basel was located. I went to him. At night he was able to stop at the tavern of a small town Olten, which stood next to Aarburg, neatly on the other side of the river. The next day I decided to go faster, and by trotting, by noon, I reached my destination. At the gate, surprisingly, they let him through without any problems, they did not even ask who he was or where, and did not take the fees. Apparently its appearance had affected - on horseback, in chain mail, helmet, with a sword and crossbow. So commoners do not go mostly, but noble people do not like it when they are stopped. In Basel, he did not particularly linger, just crashed on the bargain, where he was able to exchange his strange, massive sword of bicentennial aging, which he was barely pulling, because he weighed a half kilogram or so, on a comfortable Hungarian sword, weighing only eight hundred grams, why stale from the seller. And since there was much more in the sword of metal, and buyers for a sword for four years did not appear, the seller also paid Eric two denarii. Asking the price to new armor, our hero very quickly rolled his lips back, so much so that his teeth could be seen. He missed even half of the new mail, not to mention the smart and beautiful scaly and lamellar kits made in the lands of the Slavs and Hungarians. So he went for a couple of days on the market, licking on delicious devices. By the way, like the market, he learned about the most expensive coins in this region and their course. The most frequent guests were four coins, this is a stamp that is minted in Vienna, denarius and a marriageate that are equal to each other and obol. For one brand, 192 denarii or 412 obols are given. Although the rate may fluctuate, as coins may not be local, and therefore by weight and composition are different. It was funny that in the course were almost exclusively silver coins, and the few gold coins from the East that fell into Europe, very quickly went to the treasury and jewelry. About the people in general, almost nothing said, only occasionally smirking inexperience of the youngster and explained that the coins from such a despicable metal takes only a rare mole.
By the end of the second day, he realized that he was wasting his time, and decided to assess the situation, for starters. So - he is Baron Eric von Lenzburg and a legitimate contender for flax vassals to his very influential cousin Count Ullrich Kiburg. The hereditary possessions were an old castle, requiring serious repairs and nine villages of 50-100 inhabitants with the corresponding agricultural lands, eight of which stood far from the castle in a separate enclave. In the courtyard danced 1196, which means that the level of agriculture was absolutely terrible, and these lands gave very little income. What are his chances of capturing his hereditary possession? Honestly speaking - very small, since for the squad he is not an authority, even if Karl dies, Rudolph will take his place, most likely, as he is not only a knight, but also an experienced person. His cousin, although young, but clever, and therefore easily support a new dynasty of barons, especially since the previous one has some rights to his title and can potentially be dangerous. In short - he does not shine in the current situation. Of the property he has only a young mare, a worn aketon, chain mail, breathing heavily on the incense, an old helmet, a saber, a crossbow and a dagger. In total, less than a third of the silver mark is obtained, even with coins taken into account. As they say - for Athos it is too much, and for the Count de la Fere - too little. I will explain - the fact is that it is quite possible to start a good farm with this money and quietly, peacefully living huddled somewhere in the corner and working from dawn to dusk, in order to eat, however, for a nobleman, even such a small as he, this money is clearly is not enough. That is, there is also a nerd, although, as a "starting pistol" will completely come down . . What is his position? He is a strong young guy of 14 years old, who managed to escape from the clutches of a very dodgy predator - his beloved uncle. Now he is actually in a clean field, without a stake, without a court and without prospects. Unless to go as a volunteer to some petty nobleman. The situation is still obtained. So you need to think hard and understand what he wants here - in a new body, a new world and a new status? The first thing that comes to mind - it's good to live, that is, not strongly straining to eat delicious and softly to sleep. To achieve this goal, there are only two ways: the first - to become a trader, the second - to attach to the title of the land and live with them. Of course, being a nobleman at the land is a much more interesting prospect than just speculating with one or another property. To do this, you need to solve three problems. First, find a livelihood. Secondly, to put together a gang around itself, since ambitious loners do not live long. Thirdly, to feed the gang you need to find a permanent source of funding. So, for the first task the solution is simple - you need to steal a little. This is unaesthetic, ugly, immoral and completely non-curse, but was someone in history otherwise able to earn decent money for a short period of time? Robbery, slave trade and extortion are traditional sources of initial capital. The solution of the second problem is much more complicated. There are three problems. The first problem is the personal qualities of the candidates. Aby whom to take no meaning, and good specialists are always on the bill and they can not be caught in free swimming. The second problem is a matter of personal devotion. What will motivate these very gifted people to remain loyal to our hero? Money: This is unlikely, since in this case the devotion will end exactly when the money runs out. Here you need to think. The third problem is the problem of leadership. Having a strong, smart and enterprising people on the team, he might just not wake up one fine morning. Strangely enough, but usually these people also have ambitions and rarely they are small. With the solution of the third task in general, everything is vague and depends on how his life will turn out his life, as well as who and how much he will be able to assemble into a gang. Since it is very dangerous to loot in one territory for a long time, it is necessary to advance on a trip, and not to waste time and energy on unnecessary movements - to move slowly to the place where it will seize the land. The most reasonable in this matter was to go to the lands of the weakening Byzantine Empire, since the famous autocratic clown Alexei III was in charge there. The angel who can not grab a piece of land with only a blind and toothless rickets. Of all the territory that was under the control of this emperor, Tavria was the most tasty piece, that is, the modern Crimea, which has a very successful strategic position, both in the military and in the commercial sense. Yes, and the influence of Alexei there is almost equal to zero. But you can not go directly there, you need to collect resources and troops. For this purpose, Eric compiled a route and outlined, in general terms, work tasks that will need to be addressed in the course of the action. The very first task was to bring his equipment into working order, as it is very difficult to rob people with this garbage. From the next morning, he ordered three dozen crossbow bolts with faceted tips and went to fix the belt for the charging hook and the crossbow, or at the most crucial moment or the bow would break or the trigger would fall apart. By the end of the fifth day, he was ready to leave for Augsburg. And further to Vienna, where, according to rumors, there lived an intelligent master blacksmith, glorious in all the Austrian duchy with his chain mail and helmets. To him, Eric also wanted to go to the apprentice, in order to get used to this difficult matter in contemporary realities. From his thoughts, that he can again engage in a familiar and interesting business, he was completely excited. Of course, this will look very strange - a noble man learns from a simple peasant, but, in principle, this can be attributed to whimsy and courage. I bet I can not. Among the feudal lords will understand, but the opinion of the crowd is not interesting to him. Everything was ready, but it was unreasonable to leave on the night, so I had to spend the night in Basel. The most unexpected and, at the same time, pleasant news was that Bertha, nevertheless, was able to meet her tormentor worthily. Literally on the last day before his departure, rumors began circulating around the market, about how she not only injured his manhood with a knife, but also cut her face and neck well. He survived, although very sick, but it is still not known whether this is good or bad, since the well-known beauty and thunderstorm of women - Baron Karl von Lenzburg - was eventually not only terribly fearful but also empty as a man, having lost the most active part of his body. And this despite the fact that he is not yet married and childless! Berta herself took death from the ax, which she was hacked by the guard who ran to the baron's cries. Eric slept badly, now and then waking up - he was overwhelmed by thoughts. Yes, the Middle Ages proved to be the most natural with all its charms and customs. These are not the times to squeal about human rights with a nasal voice. Only a firm hand and an iron will are valued here, and human life costs only how much when you yourself can not take it away and have to pay a mercenary. All the rest is just the entourage, which for some aesthetics is adorned with all the filth and filth that here blossomed a riotous color under a wide variety of sauces.
In the morning, he jumped neither light nor dawn and conducted the last revision of his property, remembering whether he had prepared everything, whether he had taken everything. With money, he smoothly began to have problems, since after repairing the crossbow, buying new bolts and fitting a smart harness with a hook under him, Erik had only fifteen denarii left. If this goes on, then very soon he will have nothing to eat. But a man with a gun will always feed himself, so that our hero has only to choose food in the teeth. So - in the way. He moved along the road to Reinfelden and further to Brag, it was in dangerous proximity to the castle, but other ways were too far taken away. Toward evening, he overtook a group of travelers. Ten people, all in armor, with clockwork horses with luggage, but the guys are clearly not military. We talked, met, it turned out that among them there was not a single nobleman. Strange and curious. So they rode a dozen miles and a half, until the fork came out from behind the turn, and it turned out that they did not go to Augsburg. Say goodbye and went our way. Eric drove off just a couple of miles from the intersection. After all, it is curious - where and why they go in armor and with weapons. It's huge money! Who and why would they trust their commoners? In general, his doubts did not last long. Unfolding the horse, our hero decided to follow them up to the night, of course - without getting in their eyes. How long, shortly, but after two hours it began to quickly darken, and an hour later the trail sharply took to the forest, where half a mile, on the edge of the forest crackled a fire, glowing bright star in the thick darkness. Fortunately, there was a coppice behind Eric, and his silhouette was hard to see against the backdrop of a black massif, so his appearance was not noticed. Carefully dismounting, the young baron tied his horse to a tree about a mile from the fire, just in the copse. And he, crawling, with weapons, trying not to rattle them, went to spend the night strange travelers. Alas, it was given to him this very hard, well at least the chain mail, tightly stretched on the aketon did not make unnecessary sounds. After spending about two hours on this guerrilla, Eric, still managed to occupy a comfortable position in the shade of a large oak tree, which stood a little further from the forest on a small hillock, about ten meters from the fire. On the part of vacationers, this mound was not visible at all and looked like a solid, blurred black spot. Sitting in the shadows, our hero carefully watched. Ten armed men against one though strong, but a teenager is not a joke. But, finally, they figured out the supper and went to bed. It was noteworthy how uncomfortable they all do. Kind of like experienced guys, but the camp was also broken in a strange, easily defensible place, and the horses were dragged along for a long time. Doubts were fumbling for the soul, and fingers were pulling at the bed of the crossbow, which had already been cocked and loaded, just in case. The decision was prompted by them, leaving only one hour to peck on the log with their faces facing the fire. Then they went carelessly into the arms of a sound and healthy sleep. Now it remains to choose the moment. Immediately to attack it is impossible, it is possible to frighten away dozing prey. It is better to wait for the shift of the sentry, everyone will fall asleep more firmly, and the time for changing the guard will be known. The hour of observation of the snoring men was affecting our freshly burgled robber. He miraculously did not fall asleep and only an active stir at the fire, the dream was swept away. For about five minutes he shook his changer, who was drilling something, kicking and absolutely not wanting to step onto the post. At the same time, the rest of the travelers did not even break the snore's melody, completely unresponsive to the similar noise at their side. Somehow the holy mystery still happened, and now the honorable log warmed his booty with a new character. Fortunately, he was too slow to nod and fight with sleep, and so, settling on his improvised throne, and warmed up, he performed an extremely important act - a tenth sip was introduced into the night choir, which, tearing, sang a hymn to Morpheus on the forest edge. After waiting a couple of minutes, Eric slowly pulled his crossbow to him, squatted, aimed and fired at the sentry's face. The bolt lay gently and gently straight into the eye socket. The light sound of the bowed string remained unnoticed by the others, and the sentry man emitted a grunting sound and lifted his head silently and knocked over the log silently. From the outside it looked as if he had fallen in a dream on his back, and so he fell asleep further. Seconds flowed slowly, as if lazily, and with each growing tension, and fingers painfully dig into the box of the crossbow. A minute passed, but, alas, these strange people did not jump up, but shamelessly and brazenly snored. Our hero did not try to test fate anymore, it's not enough that the bolt will not lie so gently and tingle about some metallic object. So he put down the crossbow and very slowly began to creep up to the travelers, crouching and clutching a knife in his hand. The people at the fire lay in the bag, but either on their sides or on their stomachs. Therefore, not especially inventing, Eric slowly and gently walked from person to person and the chorus slowly lost its force. His knife neatly entered from the back of the head to the base of the skull at such an angle that the blade would go to the side of the brain, where the part that was responsible for breathing and palpitation was struck. Therefore, comrades died almost instantly . . Quiet and neat strokes that did not cause any screams or noise. Only a slight crunch of cartilage served as an indicator of a successful outcome. When he had finished, he sat down near the fire and clasped his knees. The whole body was chilling, and his throat was vomited - it was his first corpses. That's what the place of the night found - the ten corpses and one guy sitting motionless and looking with bulging eyes somewhere into the void. It's easy to say - ten corpses, and even their own hands. Of course, before breaking the level of the hero from the infamous novel Dostoevsky was very far away, but in the soul of this guy was rotten. How much blood has already spilled. First his family, and now these people too. And how much more will be spilled? Is the road to the place under the sun going along such a bloody path? From the trance Eric led a ray of sunlight, which reflected from the helmet, hit him in the eye. A little blinking and examining the clearing, he ran after the crossbow, and then to his horse. Returning to the parking lot, he busily began to deal with the property that he inherited from the accidentally deceased fellow travelers.
By noon the first results from the catch were summed up. It turned out not everything is as rosy as he supposed. The fact is that from under the cottages, with which they were covered, it was visible only the individual parts of the armor. However, the overall picture was not visible. The bodies were undressed and stacked neatly by the trees, twenty paces from the remnants of the fire. And before the cooled coals there was a bunch of various junk that Eric was trying to sort and evaluate. It was clear that it did not make any sense to take everything, and it was not possible to carry it off, because for a night the horseshoe horses fled, having felt the blood and greatly frightened. So he could only rely on his horse and the two that he could find in the ravine, from where they could not get out. Out of the armor he received a dozen helmets of the spangelhelm type in good condition, six rivet mail in a condition close to slippage, three aketons and two coifs from riveted rings. Of the weapons were six copies with leaf-shaped tips and eight axes. All the rest was in a terrible state, so it took a lot of time to remove the metal from these, completely killed things. For example, it was very tedious to cut off the sewn pieces of chain mail to the old, torn aketon. Spears and axes, by the way, were removed from the shaft and stacked in a bag, so that they did not take up much space. It was decided not to take clothes, as it was stained with blood, and, in general, could cause trouble. The money was not too thick, only sixteen denarii and a handful of obols. One of the deceased was found a letter to some Italian, which set out trading information with names, names, prices and some recommendations. Comparing the information from the letter with the property, Eric came to the conclusion that the guys were hired people, who was contracted by some trading house, he also equiped. One thing was strange - why did the mercenaries behave so carelessly? Is it possible that at night the bandits do not attack? Or were they just inexperienced? In bags on horse-drawn horses they carried food for a rather long journey. From the foodstuffs, jerky, salt and bread were taken for a week's journey, on which the sorting of the property was completed, and it was time to cover up the tracks. The young baron approached the corpses and began to look around. In fifteen steps, behind the trees, he saw a small ravine, quite deep, to accommodate both comrades and their possessions. At the bottom, he laid the corpses, put all their belongings on top, which he did not take with them. Above he planted leaves and branches. The desire to burn them, he dismissed quite quickly, since the smoke and stench of burnt meat, can attract other people. When he had finished his work in the parking lot, he packed the khabar with clockwork horses and, tying them with bridles, behind the saddle in front of him, again drove towards Augsburg.
The next two days, Eric moved extremely cautiously, stopping at night only in large inns, and on the road moved in fragments, avoiding any suspicious fellow travelers and protracted conversations. On the morning of the third day, a dozen miles of the road, a small village emerged from behind the turn. There it was very noisy and from the outskirts there was absolutely no people to be seen. Having held the horses, the young baron jumped to the ground and cocked the crossbow, sat back in the saddle, and, holding his weapon on the ready, moved to the village. Something strange happened there. In the square stood a crowd, in the center of which, on the barrel stood a priest, at his feet was a bound young woman. The sight of this poor thing was pretty sad: clothes are torn in many places, many abrasions and bruises, all dirty in mud and own blood. Eric drove up to the crowd a dozen steps away. The cries subsided and everyone looked at him.
" Who is this woman? " Asked von Lenzburg in Latin in a most heavy, almost buzzing voice. He said and almost did not flinch, because he did not even suspect that he had such a useful and loud voice if bellowed.
"This woman is a helper of Satan, Irish," the priest answered politely and bowed. "Forgive my impudence, but what made the noble gentleman visit our humble village? "
" I'm just passing through here. "I was attracted to the noise that you arranged. What exactly did she do?
"She poisoned the cows from the venerable husband Henrik.
"What are you going to do with it? "
"We want to sink her noble lord. "
"Who judged her? "
" We tried it with the whole world. "The decision was taken unanimously.
"And who owns this village? "
"To the honorable Sir Harald. "
"Why did you dare neglect his trial? "
Then a huge man with an ax jumped out of the crowd and, stepping on a pair of cases forward, stood in half-turned and roared with a thick bass:
He did not have time to finish the conversation, since the bolt lay neatly in his ear. Eric slowly lowered the crossbow, looked around the silent crowd with an evil glance and in the same buzzing voice asked:
- Who else wants to express his respect to Baron Eric von Lenzburg?
The crowd was frightened in silence. Yeah, the pressure and arrogance - the second happiness. And our hero, not wanting to lose initiative, practically growled, taking out his sword from its scabbard:
" Get out of the square! " Running Dishonor! Harald learns - everyone hangs on the branches!
And he moved forward. Latin, of course, they did not know, but the tone with which these words were uttered, and the naked blade very stimulate inter-lingual communication. So, after half a minute, only a nervously sobbing woman remained in the square, the abbot of the village church, pale with fear, and the corpse of the unlucky ruffian. Arriving nearer to the priest and not getting off his horse, he lifted his drooping head with the end of the sword so that he would look into his eyes. He watched it for about five minutes. And then he said:
" Good man, do not take it for work, untie the rope on this woman and take us to her house. "You're a kind person, will you help me? "
The priest nodded quickly.
Ok. And afterwards you will bring her horse to her house under the saddle and, tying him to the fence, will do what the good people of this village have done. After all, do you want to return to your house, and lie down a bit on your favorite trestle, thinking about the inscrutability of the ways of our Lord Jesus Christ?
The priest again expressed his full consent. And the baron smiled at him in the most gracious way, and then, suddenly changing his face to a completely furious and malicious expression, he roared:
Do it!
At the same time, just dipping the tip of the sword into the chin of the holy father, which made the blood run through a thin trickle along his fat neck. By itself such happiness our figure in the church apparatus could not stand and most naturally wet himself. But he quickly realized himself and began to follow very carefully and diligently all the instructions that Eric had given him. So forty minutes later our brutal boy was driving his small caravan in four horses.
They were silent for the first hour. Then the woman, slightly drove her horse, came up to him, put a hand on his shoulder and said something in her, in a bird's tongue. The Baron arched an eyebrow in surprise and, scratching his head thoughtfully, asked her in Latin, for he had not understood the words he had just uttered. In general, it turned out that she knows Latin, but it's bad, but he does not know the ancient version of Irish, even at the level of elementary phrases. The next two days of the trip were quite calm, only in the evenin, in the tavern, the host was indignant at the depravity of the young knight, who was dragging to his room some kind of indecent girl. But everything was decided very simply and graciously. Eric approached him with the slightest smile, drew his dagger and pressed them, completely superfluous to him, in the crotch of the talkative fat man. He immediately lost his talk and made a profuse sweat. Meanwhile, the baron, keeping the same sweet smile, told him that it was a sinful thing for such a venerable person to talk about absolutely indecent things in the presence of a lady, especially not knowing who was in front of him. Needless to say, the fat man assuredly assured that from tomorrow he would sit down on a fortnight's post to clear his filthy language, which uttered such an obscene muck, naturally, uttered entirely by stupidity, without evil and some kind of back thought. On this, all the surprises have exhausted themselves. Two days of the journey were filled with conversations that went with difficulty, due to some language barrier, but, nevertheless, with mutual interest. His new companion was only 18 years old, although he thought it was more, and her name was Morrigan. An unusual name, but also an unusual girl. As he understood from the story, this girl was the daughter of Dermod MacCarthy, the fourth ruler of the Desmond kingdom in southern Ireland. When nine years ago her brother sat on the throne, he decided to get rid of his numerous relatives in the form of brothers and sisters, in order to sit on the throne stronger. Therefore, in the same year, the Normans were hired, who raided his palace, during his absence for hunting. All were killed, even the servants' children, only a nine-year-old Morrigan was able to hide in a basket with a bunch of tattered rags. When the enemy left, she took her to her and nursed her along with her children, a devoted servant. As soon as she was 12 years old, the husband of the wet nurse blabbed about the fact that a girl from the Dermoda family was still alive. Guests visited quickly and immediately. This time the brother was not shy and came himself, along with his squad. He interrupted the whole village, but she managed to escape again. The most ugly thing was that this scoundrel defiantly hung all the villagers on the boughs of trees growing in the district, and she sat in reeds and sobbed. For a couple of days she fled in hysterics to the east, she turned out in pain and fear, but not to herself, but to those people who could die if they knew who she was. In tattered clothes, she fell on a small hillock, overgrown with moss, and when she woke up, she was in a hut with an elderly woman who had sheltered her. It was an herbalist. Three years ago, this kind grandmother died of some strange disease and the girl, afraid of getting infected, fled from there, and then on a rowing boat that she stole in a small village on the southern coast of Ireland, went across the sea. Oh, and she had a terrible fear when she crossed the strait to Normandy. Then there was a trip on some roads, until last year, she decided to settle in the village he already knew. But here everything was disgusting and wrong. Morrigan was young, beautiful, and was for them a stranger, so she struggled to climb under the skirt, sometimes by force, in places sweet tale, most of the male population of the village, strangely enough, primarily family. Of course, she fought back, as best she could and as she could. So I was able to preserve my virginity, which terribly irritated my neighbors. And so, the day before the well-known events, the same peasant whom Eric shot, receiving from her a yoke between his legs, decided to take revenge. He was a nasty person, and therefore accused her of dying, a week earlier, of the cow. Say, it was she, a sorceress, who poisoned her. The village took this decision with a bang, for almost all the peasants suffered from wounded pride, and all women were afraid that they would be taken away by the peasants. In short, word for word, they came to her house all crowd, beaten and dragged to the square. And there the priest began to publicly slander her, calling him a walking maid and an accomplice of Satan. In short - her fate was full of joy, happiness and family warmth. Eric also concluded for himself that he now has a potential candidate for the medical provision of the gang. She is thin, but small, it is true - in her eighteen years, she looks smaller than the baron at 14. But the Morrigan character is correct, it did not break down, well done. Yes, and she swore to him in loyalty until his death, which is important. So, in the solution of the second task, the first move and the move are very nice.
In Augsburg, they spent a total of about a week. All the iron and aketons were successfully delivered in bulk. Of course, without bargaining was not done, so instead of a hundred and thirty denarii, which gave the smith from the beginning, Eric received from him one hundred and fifty. Together with the coins that they already had, it turned out a fortune - almost a silver stamp! On it, for example, you could buy a very solid scaly armor, made for him personally, still remain. But such purchases were irrelevant, therefore all week has left on quite ordinary things, like gathering of hearings about road and inns. From the equipment was sewn new clothes for our baron and Morrigan. The clothes were made of wool and silk, while silk went to underwear, and wool to almost everything else. After all, the gang should look neat and fresh, so that it would be trusted and respected at the first impression, and Eric's worn clothes and torn his companion would not at all contribute to this. The saber was also put in order - she was made a normal sharpening of the blade and replaced the worn handle, so that now it was easy to hold and use. Among other things, was bought a new round shield with an umbon and a suspension on his shoulder. The shield was divided into four equal parts, which were painted with white and red paint in checkerboard pattern. Well, finally, a dense, crested cat of linen, without sleeves, was purchased, white with a black cross on the belly as a symbol of going on a campaign to liberate the Holy Land. They gave eleven denarii for everything, so that when they left the city, they had one hundred and seventy denarii and twenty-three obols. The day before he departed, Eric noticed his old acquaintance, Rudolph, who was leaving the armory shop. Pointing to him Morrigan, the baron ordered her to track down this man, and then return to that tavern where they stopped. He quickly went to the market, where he bought a small piece of parchment, a little ink and a few feathers. The next morning Morrigan went into one private house, where she asked the servant about the residence of a certain Sir Rudolph, the faithful knight of Baron Karl von Lenzburg. Receiving a positive response, she asked to call such a respected gentleman, since she had a letter for him. Alas, he slept and the servant was afraid to wake up and swearing assured that if she sends a letter to him, then she will certainly reach the addressee. After a little wriggling, the girl agreed and, giving a folded piece of parchment, quickly left. The venerable sir, waking up only for dinner, learned with curiosity that in fact the letter was addressed not to him, but to his suzerain (by the inscription on the outside of the parchment). But, since there was no seal, Rudolph decided to read this curious piece of parchment.
Chapter 2
"Good day to you, my beloved uncle. Sincerely I hope that your health did not shake the wet holes of our ancient castle. Taking the opportunity, I hasten to please you with my successes and excellent health. The other day I joined the venerable knights of Aquitaine on their march to the Holy Land, where we should soon depart from the wonderful city of Venice. All of us here are inspired and sincerely hope for the success of the enterprise. I will try, as you advised, to protect yourself and, carrying the cross of the holy warrior, not to perish in the ancient sands, so as to fill with joy and pride the heart of your adored uncle.
With a good memory, a loving nephew, Eric von Lenzburg. "
After reading the letter, our faithful companion Uncle Karl mysteriously grinned. Next was the questioning of the servant about how this woman looked, what else she said and where she went after. Eric decided to cheat and, foreseeing that the old friend would decide to fidget, left through the gate leading to the Italian coast. Few of this, he poured out a whole denarius to the guards at the gate, so that they prayed for him in his difficult affair to free the grave of the Lord. Of course, introducing yourself. The guards were delighted and for a long time shouted blessings to the departing travelers. In fact, the young baron, having driven off so as to completely disappear from the eyes of the city guard, turned north-east and by the time he was on his way to Vienna. But the owl was worth the candle, because because of such a feint with beautiful ears, Venice literally in five days joyfully met completely out of breath Rudolph at the head of a detachment covered with road dust into twenty amazing snouts. From where they, without any positive results, were forced to return to the castle of Lenzburg for a report. They ran certainly noble. Well, what do you want me to do? That is life. After all, not for buns with milk, they got right up to Augsburg itself? It was quite obvious that his beloved uncle was very upset by the fleeting departure of his dearest nephew, and therefore decided to attend to his fate, and sent to search an armed detachment led by a sensible officer. It is easy to guess that the joy of meeting so many colorful figures with our hero would have come to him not only sideways, but also other, no less interesting parts of the body.
I must say that the horseback crossings caused one, rather unusual, difficulty. Not everyone, even a highly experienced rider, will get to climb into the saddle and, humanly, go, pre-wearing a lot of skirts. Since the street is warm, some Morrigan skirts were forced to take off, remaining only in the short lower, silk, and the strongest, road, of wool. And, for the time of the equestrian crossing, a long outer skirt was tied up with ribbons so that improvised pants were made. Wretched to the extreme, but still, allowing our girl more or less independently to climb into the saddle and go there. Of the modern analogues, the closest in appearance will be trousers in the Afghan style.
The way to Vienna was not close, but our hero was in no hurry, and therefore not only did not drive the horses, but also tried to choose an inn in such a way as to settle there before dark. To the pleasure of Eric, her companion was not particularly scrupulous about the issues of robbery, since she often starved and did not burn with a special love for the people who so often humiliated and tormented her, so that she could be relied upon. After noon on the third day, the robbers tried to attack them. Making a volley with arrows from the ambush, they jumped out of the bushes and rushed with axes on the travelers. Reasonable ambush - the archers missed the riders and gave a volley to them in the back, and the infantry came out on the forehead. But the archers were inexperienced and almost all the arrows went "into the milk," only one with a buzzing buzz hit the baron in the shield hanging behind him. Without lowering the course, the guy grabbed the crossbow and drove the bolt into the robber, walking with a big spear, along the most dangerous trajectory. After the baron, he fixed his throwing unit on the saddle and pulled out a saber. Morrigan reacted quickly and adequately - by clear movement having unhooked the horse's horse of his suzerain from his saddle and holding a bridle in his hand, she got attached to him in a wake. After receiving the freedom of maneuver Erik, with a completely wild and strange roar "For Mamuja! " rushed to the nearest men. He himself did not understand why this stupid motto from the old toy Anril Tournament came to him. His opponents were completely stunned by this turn of events. The fact is that usually the selected victims, seeing a strong numerical superiority, retreated, or fled and got almost a volley of arrows from a few steps. And then everything went wrong. But no one was going to give them time to enlighten the mind, and therefore the first robber flew to the side and lost consciousness, being knocked down by a horse, and the second collapsed with a head cut like a ripe pumpkin. A considerable gap was formed. Eric turned his horse to the left, giving way to leaving the girl with the baggage, and attacking the next batch of unlucky robbers. Our Irish completely justified his trust and, not hesitating, rushed into a breakthrough to retreat to a safe distance. Seeing the approaching baron, the loggers, who were not particularly brave, turned to a completely natural flight. But, alas, the chopping blows of the sword on the body closed only by the cloth do not contribute to the strengthening of health. This would continue until the final destruction of the infantry, but the archers realized and rushed to the rescue. Three arrows flew into Eric's shield, still hanging on his back, another arrow hit him in the arm and hurt heavily, but did not break the chain mail. He began to maneuver and zigzag move away, sharply changing the direction of movement in an arbitrary order. In general, broke. It was his first natural fight in the new body. He was exhausted so terribly that after reaching an hour-by-hour tavern, he decided to stop and rest, without waiting for the evening. Although it was quite possible to go quietly for three or four more hours.
In the morning his whole body ached, especially the left forearm, where the arrow hit, so they drove more slowly than usual. The end of the fourth day of the journey led them to a rather lively inn in the large commercial city of Regensburg. Everywhere there was a hubbub and noise. After talking with the people, Eric found out that Arab merchants were going through the city. Of course, he immediately went to look at them and assess their strengths and benefits from a small accident. Alas, but with the merchants there were four dozen well-armed equestrian warriors. Yes, and the wagon is huge - what to do with a whole column of carriages with valuable eastern fabrics was completely incomprehensible. In general - no luck. However, later, eating with Morrigan in the common room of the tavern, he found out that literally across the table from them sat the guys from the guard of a certain Mr. Stefan Solvati, who was going to Genoa with an order from one Krakow trading house. The guards were recruited from different nations, and therefore they communicated among themselves in broken Latin, often distorting it and babbling on their native dialects. If it were not for profound knowledge of vulgar Latin, it is still unknown - would understand what our young baron or not from their conversation. Having eaten, he went up to his room and began to explain that the young Irishman must learn by turning around in the hall. Her idea was not very pleasant, as robbing emissaries of trading houses is dangerous, but obeyed and left. After a couple of hours, when it was completely dark, she returned, carrying with her information on the protection of a curious Italian and other interesting details. In general, nothing particularly iridescent did not work. In total, our Stefan had one servant and a dozen guards. Guard experienced, sensible, in good armor and with quality, well-groomed weapons. At the same time, it was especially unpleasant that every guard had a good Hungarian bow. They were going to spend another day in the city, talking about something with the Arabs, and then leaving for Milan. They always stop exclusively at inns, move very carefully and in general the level of vigilance goes off scale. The only weak point was the storage of provisions, which they keep in the cellar of a tavern, because it's hot outside. If we summarize, then we get a strong and vigilant company, which we can not take by available forces. But the level of their equipment and vigilance was intrigued to the extreme, because only one armor cost not less than three or four marks, and about what they were carrying, it remains only to guess and to lick. After calculating the situation, the young baron began to torture Morrigan about her, extremely useful, knowledge received from a kind grandmother in the forest. By morning the plan was ready, and they went to the pharmacist for the ingredients. But they decided to stop by one by one. At first our young lady was going on, who talked for a long time about herbs, treatment and other interesting things with an elderly, esculapius. Having found out that he has the right amount of dried belladonna and hoof oil, she paid for everything without bargaining. The batch of grass was taken quite considerable, with a margin, according to our beauty's calculations, it is enough for a double lethal dose in each wineskin. The stock was taken with the expectation of an unforeseen situation.
Meanwhile, Eric himself went to the market and tried, quite randomly, to get acquainted with Stefan. Strangely enough, but such an interesting young man himself attracted the attention of the Italian. The fact is that after realizing what the Italian is following, the baron arranged a small bush with a tight-fisted merchant. Well, the poor fellow was not at all willing to give him a piece of parchment for half the price. The beauty and elegance of the designs that our baron weaved from the correct Latin language, in the process of invoking the head of the gargoyle of wrath of the most diverse Gods and body parts, amazed imagination, and therefore were duly appreciated by the Italian. He gladly joined in this fun and, together, they were able, in front of the gay audience, to repulse the parchment for the young knight. And got acquainted. They talked and were surprised to find that they live in the same tavern. So, swearing vowingly to wake up in the evening and talk about the hard life of travelers, they went about their business in an excellent position of spirit. From the market, our joker went straight to the pharmacist where, on the list compiled by his herbalist, he bought the ingredients for the additive and neutralizer. The main problem was that the trading emissary accidentally break out with the company, should be outside the city, preferably on a deserted road. Therefore, it was decided to poison the wine in the road wineskins, which they kept in the basement of the tavern, and that in the morning they all wanted to drink abundantly, in the evening with them to hike and drink wine with a small additive causing a strong and persistent dryness in the mouth and throat. Nothing dangerous and you can survive, but you will want to drink very solidly, so they sip their wineskins for a sweet soul. Until the first tavern is not reached, as a vyhlebayut. The concentration of poison decided to do a little, so that it did not cut down the people at once, but let it go away. The reason for drinking, in addition to the glorious acquaintance was mutually beneficial transaction for the sale of the letter, which was seized during the last catch. As it turned out, it was very useful for trade people. For the letter, ten denarii were poured, which were peppered to the undisguised joy of the guards. One misfortune, the additive causing dryness had to be added to all the wine that was in the tavern, so that the mass of people in the morning will simply be deceived with pleasure. Except, perhaps, our treacherous couple, which was prepared for itself by an additive neutralizer.
Evening came. We sat. We chatted. Stefan's guards were particularly pleased with the story of the escape from the castle and the battle with the robbers. The authority of the young knight in their eyes has grown significantly. Drank, surprisingly, modestly. But additives and from one glass should suffice, and have drunk not less than three mugs each. They sat there merrily, setting the tone for the whole room, but, alas, everything once comes to an end. So our craftsmen had to disperse. As usual, they said goodbye for a long time, shook hands. The Italian invited to visit Genoa and told in detail how to find his house. A little more and they would have started to fraternize, but Morrigan intervened in a timely manner, as she was observant of everything from a distance, because the woman was indecent to drink with men. All went to the rooms and went to bed. But our hero was not up to sleep - he was intolerably anxious for sex, as the young hormones played so violently that banally prevented him from falling asleep. At hand was the Irish, but she could not be touched, since she was subordinate and after such a precedent it would be difficult for him to keep a distance with her. You could always go down into the common room and seduce one of the girls that carry the food, but the chance of getting a good, good sore on your lower head exceeded all reasonable limits. It remained to look for young virgins and try to achieve success with them. Dirty, of course, but in addition to irritation mucous, nothing terrible will not work. But this is an idea! In general, after half an hour he flirted at the porch of one of the houses with a young special fourteen years old, who clearly had an interest in our baron. Whatever you say, but at the age of 14 he looked very solid and attractive: a soft bass, a stern face and a harmoniously built, strong body. As a result, an hour after he went hunting, he was already doing "gymnastics" in full swing in the collapse of the hay behind the city stables. Filling his bubbling physiology, he took a note on the note and subsequently used it more than once. When our young Lovelace returned to the room, Morrigan did not sleep, but carefully pretended. In the end, he caught her at the moment when she opened her eyes. Realizing that the conspiracy had failed, she looked condemnantly at our hero and, pressing her lips, pointedly turned to the other side.
The morning met Eric light and fresh. Broths that made his companion, worked just miracles - no headaches, no dryness, no lethargy. As if I did not drink in the evening. They had risen before the Italian, but they waited while the man, with enough sleepy guards, departed on his way to Milan. After that, at a considerable distance, they followed them. Although the plan was both risky and complex, but it worked like clockwork. Three hours' drive, on the shore of a small lake, surrounded by willow thickets, they found the emissary's camp. The only person who was still alive was Stefan himself. He grabbed the air hoarsely, trying to breathe, but the rapidly developing throat swelling surely killed him. Eric approached, crouched down and smiled sweetly. Stefan recognized him, pulled his hands to him and wheezed:
" The murderer! "Assassin!
To which the Baron replied, in the most affectionate tone:
- Sleep calmly dear friend, - and squeezed the throat of the poor fellow, speeding up the process. Tom sufficed enough crumbs, and, twitching for a few seconds, he fell silent forever.
Mindful of what happened last time, the embarrassment, Eric ordered the Irish to follow the horsemen's horseshit steeds, and he himself began to study the prey. At the same time, she had to follow the terrain and, in case of danger, to warn ahead of time. This time he immediately began to look for a place to accommodate bodies and excess property. I did not want to drown corpses in the lake, as this would spoil the water in the district for a long time, so I had to walk seventy steps along the coastal thickets before the ravine of the correct size turned up. Having squealed and pohav from anticipated happiness of rough labor activity, the baron began to undress the guys who had laid down their wild head for the glory of his purse. And now, when there were already twelve bare corpses lying on the beach, the idea dawned on him. The difficulty in implementing the idea was that it was difficult to load a horse on a horse, so it was necessary to build a kind of flimsy semblance of harness with a leg loop from the belt belts. Ten minutes of trouble with straps were fully paid for by the ease with which the bodies went to rest in the ravine. Having dealt with the company of the commercial emissary, Eric took charge of the property. Ten full Haubeks of riveted rings and a short mail made half chopped, half of riveted rings. Next came the lamellar armor of the emissary, ten late spangelhelms, one helmet of the "pilot" type and one Phrygian cap with a sinker and a barmaid. All armor is well-groomed and in excellent condition. Then there were ten Hungarian recursive bows, ten copies, twelve excellent swords, which Mr. Oakshot in his time would define as type XII. In addition to this, twelve round shields, a pair of sets of bracers of a "board" type, eight knives and a whole bunch of excellent arrows. Traditionally, I decided not to take clothes. With cash, too, everything was in order, even more so. In addition to ninety-eight denarii and one hundred and thirty-two obolov, which was shoved across belts, pads and purses, travelers found a bag containing fifteen stamps of silver and a pair of handfuls of quality river pearls, the total cost of the same number of stamps. All the property was difficult to fit on six horses. The entire small herd of twenty-four heads will not be able to lead them, so only the best horses were selected, which can then be sold. In general, and in general, if they do not themselves befriend good people, then you can live, there is little of it, now you can live well. They were able to pull out only towards evening. They did not stop for the night, and, having skirted the old town along the outer radius, set off towards Vienna. The two remaining days they quietly drove their own way. A couple of times they were harassed by the patrol, but unsuccessfully, because several denarii and a small speech about the local rulers, whose assignments they no doubt fulfilled, were very convincing. Although not for everyone. Already not far from the purpose of his journey, a small detour of four completely uncultured commoners so consumed with a desire to take away the stolen property that Eric had to put a bolt in the face of their leader and a sword to kill the horse under his brazen helper. Why he fell and broke his leg in his thigh. This very tonifying effect on the remaining rascals. Feeling extremely uncomfortable, these gallant extortionists decided to flee from him in the most insolent way. The horse of the first such turn of events could not digest and stumbled, just a few steps away, throwing the poor fellow out of the saddle, and the second himself fell out of the saddle when he tried to turn around quickly, for some reason he took his feet out of the stirrups. Only out of pity he finished off the woeful, so that they would not suffer. They did not take their horses, just like the ragged, old coats of mail, so as not to arouse suspicion. The axes and spears removed from the shaft added loads to the horses of the improvised convoy. Well, and bought a little coins, only three denarii in obol. Here the main thing is not to choke snatched piece of pie, and then the guys and so his too fatty took.
" Morrigan, why did you go with me? "I offered to continue on my own, and for a reason - you would have a horse and some money for the first time.
"I owe you my life and do not want to look in your eyes like an ungrateful bastard. "
- Come on, I told you myself. My path will be very dangerous and literally flooded with blood to the last extreme.
" Eric, do not you understand? "You are the only person in this world, a man who treated me kindly. Few of this, did not solicit. After all, you, Mr. Baron, perfectly understand that I could hardly resist your interest for a long time.
- Oh, what are you talking about? I'm only fourteen years old, what kind of interest?
- Little boys on girls do not run at night, and all the more in the hay after cute cooing does not return.
- Here's another. At least I am poor in exile, but of noble birth.
" But does that change the fact that you're a woman? "Admit it, you went with me, including because I liked you.
"I'm older than you. "
So what? Does it affect sexual desire so much?
- Eric, stop, please. I am ashamed to discuss such topics. You, in the first place, a person who can protect their people, and very decisively. And I'm tired of running and hiding all my life, because I want a little peace of mind and confidence in my future. You give confidence.
And what kind of brother is running after you? You're sort of like the throne Desmond can not claim.
- I - yes, but the one who will take me as a wife, through marriage will have all rights to the throne. That is, after the death of his brother, by our right, the crown will pass to him. And Donald wants to retain power for his children. Therefore, in order to eliminate misunderstandings, he decided to kill all relatives, which can create problems.
" How very nice of him. "And let's do him nice?
"InMeaning".
" Well, he's asleep and dreaming about dismembering you on the block. "Am I right?
- Let's admit.
- Therefore, you need to make sure that his dreams become more saturated and beautiful, but extremely short. On the nearest farmstead, I must send him a letter on my behalf, in which I will inform you that I, the baron von Lenzburg, is engaged to his sister. Well, what's with your eyes widened? Calmly, it will just be written in a letter, it's a joke that he can not test. A little such a dirty trick that will deprive him of sleep and appetite.
" Yes, my poor brother. You know, I even feel sorry for him.
- Morrigan, such a kindness is not to face a woman with such a name.
"Do you think she I ? "
- Yes, do not fret yourself. He laughed. "You see, the name devotes us to this or that um, a supernatural being. Astrologers and other mystics call it an egregor, it is engendered by our thoughts and emotions about it. Initiation establishes a connection between this being and man. As a result, a person begins to acquire the positive and negative properties of the one to whom it is dedicated. Of course, in a weakened form. And here there is some cunning - the stronger the egregor, that is, the more people think about it and experience emotions in this regard, the stronger the influence on the initiated. However, the more initiated, the weaker the influence, since the forces of this being are not unlimited. Understood what I mean?
Yes! It turns out that I was dedicated to the goddess of war and death on the battlefields?
"She was not a goddess. "
- Why?
- Morrigan became a goddess only with the advent of Christianity, which her so christened. Before that, she was a bath, that is, an ancient, wise being. Who she really was and whether it was at all, no one knows. Perhaps she was a strong and wise woman, perhaps a creation of the imagination of excited scribes. It does not matter, it's important that now it is what we think about and feel about it, because the material shell of this being, if it was, is now completely destroyed, which means that the opinion about it is exclusively in the hands of people.
- A strong and wise woman do you mean the tales of ancient, wise ancestors?
Yes! Which throughout the world acted as teachers and judges. But these are all trifles. If you talk about the case, then you are devoted to a very unmerciful egregor. And, apparently, very weak, since I do not think that many women in this world, bear a similar name. Why your parents did this, I do not understand, because if he was strong, then you would only bring death and battles to those around you.
" Eric, but that's it. "All my close people are dead, everyone who tried to protect me, died, and now those who hurt me also began to die.
" Hmm that's right. "So, we will assume that you are into the taste. The main thing now do not crash your own, try to focus on your enemies. I'll cover you with a shield, and you'll kill them with the eyes of your beautiful gray eyes. Or no, better than screaming that the Morrigan orders them to die, so you will not even have to look out for the shield.
"Mister Baron, stop talking nonsense. "
" Why are you so tense? "Remember - the influence of the egregor is very weak and can not kill people. It can not even cause diarrhea. And it affects only the character of a person. Okay, drove, and then with your sense of humor, not long and from a heart attack die.
Because of what?
" Hmmm heart stops. " - Erik made a clever face, rightly perplexed by her ignorance, then turned away, and they drove on. Well, do not tell my companion in real fact that nobody uses such word, because the phenomenon that it describes is not yet known to medicine.
And now, after so much toil in front of our travelers, a view of the glorious city of Vienna opened. When entering the city, the cat with the cross, which was worn on Erica, had a very great advantage. He just politely greeted him, was asked to introduce himself and quietly passed on. It turns out that there were decent institutions here, serving as a base for the crusaders, both moving to the Holy Land, and vice versa. Plus, in the city there was a large farmstead of the Templars. So the city guard was already accustomed to a large number of guests and was not surprised even by such strange caravans. Moreover, the young baron had everything neatly packed, tied up, there were no traces of blood on the property, and he himself, with his companion, inspired confidence with his neatness.
To begin with, we settled down in a small inn in the depths of the city. Discharged, ate. After that, leaving the Morrigan to guard things, the young von Lenzburg went to look for the famous smith master, of whom he had heard so much. Masters Gottfried could not be found right away, had to stray. There was a very bad knowledge of the ancient version of the German language that surrounded him in the last few months. He has already learned to understand more or less what he is told and even tolerated to explain (albeit with a notable accent), as being in the language environment is the most effective language teacher. But it concerned a simple language, but all sorts of jokes, built on the game context, and word games, in the spirit of the ancient skalds, he was completely incomprehensible. Alas, but they liked to joke like that, it was even considered to be quite fashionable, so regularly he just did not understand what they were talking about. Spending two hours on wandering and having accumulated a barely restrained desire to give a pumpkin to anyone who once again tries to flash a beautiful allegorical speech, our hero, has reached the required farmstead. There he found two guys behind the process of drawing wire for chain mail from small strips of iron. More precisely one forged these strips, and the second stretched out a wire. They were glad to take a break and enjoyed talking to a curious guest. The result of the conversation was encouraging - the Honorable Gottfried could easily take a student, by itself for a fee, and acted this way more than once. Moreover, one of the apprentices, who now spoke to him, was his disciple. True, the prices for studies were palpable. For example, working in favor of the farmstead, Ulrich paid a silver denomination every third Sunday, which allowed him to study for another three weeks. The young baron, conversing with the boys, walked around the smithy, examining and evaluating it. Nothing special could not be found, more precisely to say a lot of things, from the usual equipment, he did not find. In comparison with the university, the workshop of the extreme economy class, there was nothing at all. A hike, only having looked with own eyes on that in what conditions, experts worked in former years it is possible to start to appreciate modern conveniences. For an hour Erik spent at the farmstead, but, since the venerable Gottfried arrives only tomorrow, then it's time for him to move on. It's not good, you know, to tear off honest people from hard and tedious work for a long time.
The next few hours our traveler had a self-guided tour of the city. Once, even in that life, he was in Vienna, but they are incomparable. The ancient version looked somehow incredibly flawed, and only very remotely resembling that well-groomed pearl of German culture that he remembered. Dimensions, of course, he did not take into account, but he estimated the qualitative component. Visited earlier cities told him that here he was waiting for the same cesspool behind the fence, but he, nevertheless, cherished the hope in the soul for something more neat and stone. Yes yes " You are not mistaken. Except for a few public and ritual buildings, everything was wooden, though it was densely built up and often two-storyed. Stone-stoned streets were not everywhere, often there was an ordinary primer. The streets themselves are flooded with slops and heaps of rotting debris, especially closer to the city walls. There are very few trees. And the smell! Everything mixed here - from the fragrance of fresh stools and decaying remains to the smoke and the killer ambergris of horse sweat in the heat. It remains only to add a touch on public toilets, or rather their complete absence. Now our hero finally realized what exactly modern Moscow is trying to imitate the European metropolises. So, the people recovered right on the street did not bother him. Only occasionally do some of them retreat into the gateway, and even then, not out of shame, but that some joker of the kick does not hang out during the mystery of defecation. In general - there is something to see, impressions will be unforgettable. Sorry for the camera at hand there.
It was getting dark. Eric went to the inn. There were so many impressions that sometimes he even smeared in them. Therefore, he firmly decided not to drop to the level of what surrounded him. And he did not wash well. To realize these thoughts, it took more than a spacious room in an inn, you need a small house. Information about the houses and prices for their rent was bought from the owner of the yard for one obol. At first the Baron was even surprised at such talkativeness and activity, but everything became clear when a proposal was made to show one interesting proposal right from the morning. It turns out that our little informant, inherited a small two-story house. The exit from the leased building was to a paved cobblestone road, there was a basement, an attic and a balcony. In general - the guy of our guy was intrigued and in the morning, a little light, they were already inspecting the room in question. It was somewhat damp, a lot of garbage and it is obvious that the stove has not been heated for a long time, as part of the wall was slightly moldy. It should be put in order by washing, cleaning and drying, but in general - it is quite accurate and strong. Particularly pleased with the massive oak door on the bolt and metal hinges that opened outward. When they started talking about payment, it turned out that this pleasure is very cheap, only a week's obol. Everything was very strange. Therefore, when Edwin left the door, the baron snatched the knife and put it to the throat of the innkeeper.
- Tell me! The guy said softly and coldly.
What? What to tell? - frightened the man, looking around frightened.
" Tell me, why does not anyone live here long? "What happened here? Why are you selling for this price?
" Nothing has happened here, my lord. "And I sell so cheap only because of the kindness to you.
" Dear Edwin, look into my honest eyes of a nobleman. " - the poor man looked there and was warped - he had not yet met such a cold and malicious glance that sees him through and through. "Now I'll ask you one more time, and if, again, you decide to lie to me, I'll cut your tender, fat throat. "Few of this - I will say that it was so. You understood me?
The poor man nodded quickly, clapping his frightened eyes, and large drops of sweat appeared on his temples.
"Edwin, tell me, are you so kind, why does not anyone live in this house? "
"It's all her, she's " Pale as chalk, he swallowed a lump that rolled to his throat.
- Who is she?
" My niece. She lived here with her husband. And when he went into the crusade and disappeared there, she could not stand the grief and hung herself.
" Did she hang herself here? "In this house?
Yes! Here on this beam - he stretched out his hand, pointing to the crossbar across the entire ceiling of the second floor. Eric removed the knife from his throat and he hastily grabbed for it, checking the integrity.
"What did not you say at once? "
" So you refuse to rent it. "Everyone refuses, as they learn.
" Listen, good man, my promise is in force-if you lie to me again, even in trifles, I'll cut your throat. "I was clear and convincing?
Of course. My lord, you have a divine gift to convince people!
- Here's a fine fellow. And do not worry about the niece of the deceased, the noble should be ashamed to be afraid of something or someone. And even more so the spirits of bad girls. I'll take this house for rent, not for a day, but for a couple of years. So rejoice. And for trying to deceive me, I'll pay you half as much - on the basis of every second Sunday, for two weeks ahead. Does this condition suit you?
Sir! Sure! It suits me completely! I will immediately send people here, that they cleaned everything up and washed it.
All right then. That's agreed. Here, take it, it's a deposit for a month.
Having said this, he threw two obols so that flying overhead, they fell into his hands, but the man could not catch them. Playing in an inept clown and still dropping both coins on the floor. And then fell to his knees in order to pick them up. The floor was covered with small debris and a thick layer of dust, so the chance of loss was really great. The guy looked at the behavior of the owner of the tavern, silently grinned and, slowly, went to the exit. Out on the street they both came out more than pleased. Eric was pleased with the unexpected benefit in the form of very cheap housing, and Edwin to what he could, at last, at least to someone to pass this accursed house, moreover for such a long time. In the tavern, our hero was not returning from his hand, and so he went to the city square where the bargaining was located. There, a local guard was quickly found, who, after giving a denarius, drank sharply from the late Bert and Henry von Lenzburg. Seeing the interest in commercial affairs, with such a virtuous person, the guards showed the most running places in the iron ranks and led him to the village elder, which followed the market. The chosen place cost a denarius a day and Erik, paying three days in advance, went on a visit to Gottfried, in the hope that he had already returned to the farmstead.
Eric was pleased and in his head there were tunes of various funny and cheerful songs, heard by him in a past life. He would have walked up to the blacksmith himself, had it not been for the selective mate, that he was so loud that he would rumble through the streets with a melodious echo. Stopping and listening, it became obvious that the master had already returned home. Which, however, he has a gentle temper and a gentle voice! A little later it became clear that Ulrich is the one who, by stretching wire, managed to make all the blanks of smaller diameter, so now all eight kilograms of iron blanks need to be reworked. Having made the poor pupil happy with his trembling participation, Gottfried glanced at his guest. He chuckled and, apparently realizing who had come to him and why, silently pointed to the door of the house and went there first. Language found immediately, because the baron almost from the threshold said the price of training - for a denarius a week. Study conditions are free and very free. In general, everything was developing as well as possible. Too everything and too good, even somehow strange. The next month passed fairly calmly. Odd days of the week, except Sundays, there were classes in the smithy, and even then not from dawn. Even days passed in training, horseback riding, domestic chores and language practice. The fact is that in the evenings he was engaged with his companion by the language she was carrying, and practiced in writing with the help of a goose feather. In the market, things went well, and therefore by the end of the month all the trophies were sold, even beads and it turned out to be sold. So, after all the spending, by the end of the month they had just a huge fortune - a total of about 35 Viennese silver marks. This is 10 kilograms of silver! With this money, he could live to a very old age in peace and contentment. But alas, peace is not his destiny. By the end of the month Eric began to notice strange people who regularly pass near his house, watching him and in general - showing an interest. This alarmed and one evening Eric shared with the girl his observations. It turned out that she also noticed them, and even on the market - all the familiar faces who often approached and asked, asked the price and generally tried to talk heart to heart. Thinking about what, what, Morrigan and they came to the conclusion - they were lost in the armor. The fact is that the armor was expensive, and their owners were completely not numerous and never ferocious. If we combine these two facts into a single whole, it becomes quite obvious that they want to be robbed, but they are being watched to find out where the money is hidden. Yeah, it's called - finish the game. After all, only fifteen people are observers! In the morning he left Morrigan to stay at home, under the bar, and let him in only by the sound signal - he had to knock in a special way. And he walked calmly to the smithy. Where I discussed the situation with the master, I started to work, but not one, but all together. Before lunch they worked, making so-called siblings - spatial constructions of four thorns, assembled in such a way that no matter how one puts it - one will always hang up. It turned out about a hundred. After taking away the crafts, he went to the market to buy two more simple crossbows, bolts, unloading with a hook and a light spear. At the very end of his promenade he walked to his house, demonstratively rattling his equipment, passing by one of the observers. And in the jocular question of where he put it so, he said that he was leaving the Templars tomorrow for the Holy Land, and now he was preparing. Having come home, he began active preparations to repel the assault. All the windows were blocked with shutters on the bolts, the door was securely closed, a barricade was installed at the entrance to the second floor, the entire first floor was neatly packed with drifters, next to the window sills, too, they put a little. In general, all the preparations lasted until dusk, so when there was a rustle near the door at midnight, they and Morrigan, already at the barricade, had three charged crossbows and a hope for success. Strange as it may seem, these waggons were able to open a massive bolt on the door rather quietly, like the creaking door itself. Stepping through the threshold, the first shadow clenched in confusion and jumped back, apparently stepping on the drone. The people who followed her were already smarter - they moved their legs, not taking them off the floor, than they simply moved the saber to the side. There were seven of them. Eric touched the girl by the shoulder and they took a crossbow aimed. They aimed at the neck area in such a way that the bolt that pierced it through such a distance would damage the person following. After the first volley, four moons fell, moaning and moaning, and the three men sat down in fright. Then they knocked over. Stumbling into the darkness on the barricade, and shlopotav a couple of times with a spear in the stomach, they quickly cooled down and began to fire the positions of the guys from the doorway. The besieged had to fire back in the same way - Morrigan charged, and Eric fired. After the seventh shot, he felt a strong blow to his right collarbone - there hit a bandit arrow. Weakening, he began to give orders to the girl about how to shoot at fast-looking figures and so on. After about five minutes, he lost consciousness. For him, the battle was over today - eleven to one, a good result.
Transparent tape, wriggling in the most bizarre ways, ran forward, and its edges pulsed with poisonous green. Around her was a vast darkness, and silence filled her ears. He, as ghostly as this tape was walking along it unhurried gait. He was filled with emptiness and tranquility. How much did he spend here? According to his feelings - for ages! He always walked this road and will always go. The realization of tranquility and harmony lulled him and absorbed him so that there was nothing more to be desired. Suddenly a dark beam was torn by a beam of bright light and struck a transparent cloth, or it shuddered and set in waves. The state of equilibrium was violated with a wild, irresistible speed and filled with rage. He ran forward, his whole being dispersed and filled with energy as a locomotive. Under his pressure, the road quickly straightened, issuing a terrible screeching sounds, almost groaning. Each step literally tormented her, brought unbearable pain and made the darkness brighter. And there, in the distance is already visible a small ball of bright white color. Feeling the approach of an angry man, the ball, as if frightened, and began to fly away from him. But that unthinkable speed with which our shimmering ghost ran forward, did its job - he caught up and flew into it so that the balloon shattered, filling everything around with light, cold, pain and some kind of voice:
"Mister de Ree, tell me, will he survive? " Asked a familiar female voice.
- I think so. The fever falls, he is young and strong.
Eric slightly opens his eyes, but the picture is very blurry. A little further away are two some silhouette.
- Who you are? - in a quiet, weakened voice, the Baron tries to take the initiative.
Here it is a bad accident. Who would have thought that the enemy arrow would fall into a small loophole in the dark. One successful shot and our hero spent unconscious for six days, and only on the seventh came to himself. So I want to joke about the resurrection. If we return to that ill-fated day, after the loss of consciousness by her master Morrigan not only continued to shoot back from the bandits and was able to lay three more, so even the Templars did not let her into the house, making more than one hole in their shields. You ask, where did the Templars come from? But here there is no mysticism, everything is very simple. The city is small, but because when the night post of the courtyard heard nearby battle noise, then immediately woke the commander. Jean de RИ, without thinking twice, took a dozen sergeants, out of security, and led them to the sound of battle. Literally two blocks later, they found an enchanting picture of the storming of a small house by a mob of bandits. In a couple of minutes it was over. But help until dawn could not enter the house. The girl so perenervnichala that she shot, not wanting to listen to anything and no one, in everything that moved. When it finally dawned, we understood that the gang of Guillaume the Red had attacked the house, which had long been sought for by Friedrich I of Bamberg, the Duke of Austria. For him, even a silver reward was awarded to anyone who could capture or kill him. The gang of this scoundrel terrorized the district and robbed passers-by merchants. They were not ashamed to attack even the Crusaders when they were in a vulnerable position. When Jean broke the remaining bandits, their leader was still alive, but badly wounded, the bolt hit him in the right side of his chest. Therefore Friedrich did not become particularly embarrassed and ordered the wounded Guillaume to be hung on the gates of Vienna already at noon on the same day, and transferred the stamp of silver to the Templar who took over the protection of Erik's girl and property, as well as his treatment. Moreover, the duke was so impressed with the courage of this couple that he had seen the patient a couple of times, and his Morrigan, as a token of attention and respect, presented a cut of beautiful, dark green silk.
Alas, but a wounded hand for a few months completely knocked out the baron from the rut - he could not, nor work in the smithy, nor train, even on horseback riding and those, at first, it was impossible to leave. The only thing he could afford was conversations with Jean de Rais, politics in Byzantium and the Crusader states, exercises in languages, walks and visits to two libraries: the courtyard and the duke. The libraries were, alas, completely wretched, since they contained almost exclusively religious texts and were suitable only for studying the graphics of the letter. Only on the second week there was an interesting event - Arab merchants from Vienna returned to Constantinople, returning from the lower German lands. Seeing the situation in terms of the level of technology and the total inability to weld good steel with the condition of preserving the secret, Eric decided to negotiate and buy a few damask bullions. They cost, of course, exorbitant, but there was no choice, so in 8 months he waited for guests who were supposed to bring 30 kg of Syrian bulat in bars. Here it is worth mentioning that his interest in blacksmithing was due to a completely pragmatic goal - he needed a normal set of armor. But the problem was not only in the complexity of manufacturing due to the almost complete lack of equipment and at least some adequate tools. The main problem was in the material - it was not. It so happened that the development of technology of those times in Europe was directly related to the formation of the institute of shops, the specialization of labor and the general development of cities as craft centers. By the 12th century in the Germanic countries, this process is just beginning to make its first, timid steps. In the countryside, of course, there used to be intelligent blacksmiths and other artisans, but the overall level of their craftsmanship and scope of work was very low, since they could not only specialize in some kind of profile of their craft, but also in the craft in general. The natural economy forced them to engage in, say, blacksmithing, exclusively in their spare time from field work. Miracles do not happen, and the quality of products was very low, and the production itself is very primitive. If to make comparisons, the production of iron by the end of the 12th century in Europe did not exceed 200-250 grams per person, and not in a year, but in general - for his whole life, while during the heyday of the Roman Empire this figure was about 3 kg in year. You understand, the iron was very small, and it was in price. Specialists in its processing, too, was few, and experts were only conditional, since they often lacked experience. This information is particularly vividly included in the dissonance with most historians who described the Crusades. In their understanding, these were some invasions of many thousands armies, encased in armor, which went to the East in a fit of religious fanaticism with high regularity, on average once every 10-20 years. I want to clarify - given the volume of iron mining, chain mail in those days, could afford only one person per thousand, and even not every one. In this vein, tales of forty-thousand crusader corps, skipping sometimes, then historians, writers, then directors, seem absolutely fantastic. The fact is that by the 12th century the institution of the militia in Western and Central Europe was completely eliminated, that is, the bet was made solely on the professional army, which, you understand, needs to be equipped and equipped better than a half-naked herd of peasants with wooden slingshots. And the militia, at that level of technological development, would not be better equipped. Just imagine the cost of equipping such armies! Yes, with such frequency! Where in Europe in general could take in those days such titanic means? Oh well, volume by volume, but in terms of quality everything was not well. At the time described, steel as such in Europe was not manufactured and not used, only occasionally were imported damask products from the East. That is, almost all the products were made from either iron or steel iron (which was obtained, for example, by aging in the ground). Alas, but until the time when the European armourers will start making the best armor in the world for more than two centuries. But what to say about armor, in much simpler things and then specialization was practically not there. In the same Russia, already a century later, there were on average no more than 40 different craft trades, and this is at the junction of cultures. That is, almost all that was needed on the farm, the peasants themselves did. In Europe, the situation was even worse. About science, you can not even stutter at all - theology and philosophy, that's the whole science that was engaged only in the fact that it was debating about how space ships plow large and small theaters. Well, the maximum is still the study of languages, which went, as a rule, optional and unsystematic. There are practically no measuring instruments, the records are kept by units and not extensively. Alas, and ah, in such a wonderful and colorful time, our hero had to solve the problem of tools and materials, in order to acquire intelligent equipment. Needless to say, that still situation - the desired armor has nothing and nothing to do. Lepota!
Time goes on and Eric's hand finally healed so much that he could not only return to his muscular training, but from time to time practice at the smithy. Master Gottfried reacted to the current situation with understanding and for three months the fee did not take. And why? After all, before the very injury, he received as many as ten denarii for a bag of streaks, which were made from waste. He's a cunning devil-he ate a good meal and did not seem to eat. But the baron was not offended at him, as he gave him feasible and timely help. But you do not think that he sour, although the wounded and knocked the guy out of the rut, but the mass of free time and our hero were completely incompatible. Therefore, in addition to useless wanderings and conversations, he closely dealt with hygiene issues in the dwelling that he was renting. Yes, and Morrigan, being not spoiled by the values of the modern world, to put it mildly, she was flustered. And this is very, very to put it mildly. About how the groin he could only guess. Alas, dear reader, even such seemingly completely simple task again rested on the development of industry and technology. Are you smiling and wondering at what kind of technology such a simple matter can be? But you yourself look - the 12th century, paper does not make a paper in Europe, imported from silk costs a lot of money, and you wipe the ass, what are you going to do? Yes, in the summer, yes in the forest you can solve this problem. And in a medieval city, where grass and trees are a rarity? It's not such a simple task. It helped in this delicate matter, strangely enough, the Arabs, from whom he ordered a damask. They used a not very traditional solution - a jug called apaftoy, with which they washed away after the act of defecation. Not very mobile, but quite tolerable. So there was a solution of problems, where own head, where advice, but always effectively. But there were not only technical difficulties. Morrigan turned out to be a very complex and completely non-technical task, in matters of hygiene introduction. She resisted to the last. He even had to snatch a saber when she, squeezed into a corner, tried to escape, and promise to cut it if she did not obey. At first she was horrified, and then fell to the floor and started to roar. But after he removed the saber, neatly hugged her and politely explained why all this is necessary, she forced herself to undress and climb into a large basin for it. Do you think this was an erotic scene? Yes, hell with two - it was a demonstration of a heavy and very fragrant work. As expected, the most terrible, in all respects, was the first wash. The poor woman was trembling like an aspen leaf, undressing herself in the room, alone with a man. Honestly, she very rarely undressed, even with the few ablutions she did, trying to stay in her underwear. But the guy had another problem - he hardly lost consciousness from the stunning aroma that came from her well, you understand. And when warm water got there, he, the poor girl, already had eyes tingled. In general, he washed it to creaky skin. And then, he forced me to lie down on the bed, and mercilessly amputated a massively grown store of stunning fragrances. In this case, he was helped in advance by a razor and a piece of soap. A poor woman has never even heard of such things in her life, and so, naturally, she thought that now there will be sex, but, alas, she did not guess. After such fragrances, Eric was not at all excited by the naked body of a very beautiful and harmoniously built woman. Impressions were too strong. When he had finished, he gave her fresh, clean clothes and took care of himself. Alas, she did not help him, because she turned red and turned away when she saw him naked. To her horror, this procedure took place every third day.
A steady result in personal hygiene was achieved only closer to winter, not without the resistance of the companion, who for a long time perceived all these washings as a form of harassment and was surprised that Eric did not go "to business. " But alas, she was wrong in her conclusions, since our hero was thinking solely about creating his own comfort zone and preventing infectious diseases. Plus, the consciousness of 30-year-old man helped not to fly off the coils at the sight of a beautiful, naked woman. So he held on, and she slowly began to perceive everything happening as normal and self-evident. Yes, and the attitude changed - she began to see in his companion is not an eccentric and anxious guy, but a fully mature man, and so her feelings toward him progressed from gratitude for saving lives, respect and respect. With food it was all much easier and without any misunderstandings. They cooked and ate at home, so food poisoning stopped torturing them.
Having completed the whole milestone in establishing his life in the new world, Eric moved on to a very important task - the search for tools, since the normal armor does not use those cliches that Gottfried uses. You will laugh, but he still used poor stone sledgehammers, as they could not do the normal ones from metal, and iron with iron forged will remind plastic clay forging plasticine. In short, having talked to one jeweler, the baron learned that the Solvati family in Venice holds a good jewelry store, where you can buy quite a decent jade, he got them as a payment for one transaction, but does not want to leave because it's rather expensive and precious . Immediately after realizing that he was benefiting twice from the deceased, he decided to write a letter to his family, where he described that their jewelry store had been recommended to him by Stefan and he wants to go there to order a number of forging tools from jade. In the same place he gave simple drawings with the sizes and the price that he would like to put for these products. With the price he acted slyly. Having learned from the aforementioned jeweler, the entire layout, he proposed a price that is a fifth of the cost of raw jade, but the volume of the order was very tempting. Having sent a letter to the Solvati family by courier, he had a week's talk with their commercial emissary, who brought the samples of the material with the aim of negotiating everything, signing a contract and getting a deposit. In the spring he already worked in the smithy with helmets only, he was interested in the technique of processing complex spatial details in the new conditions. By the summer, he began to obtain excellent set-up spatial structures, for example spangelhelms, which Gottfried very much praised, setting as an example Ulrich, still sitting on the broach wire and chain mail. In June came the jade tools, for which, in total, had to pay 7 marks of silver. A lot of money! Crazy money! But it was worth it, and Stefan's relatives threw him the price for the volume of the order. Now the business went much better and he began to get "pilots", one-piece from one piece of iron. In addition to direct forging, he began to experiment with thermal and chemical treatments. The fact is that the damask, which comes to him, is not very weakly susceptible to rust, but this must be fought.
So, in the worries and exercises passed the promised eight months with the hook, and in early June 1197, merchants already familiar to Eric arrived from Vienna with 30 kg of excellent bulat, which had to be exchanged for almost 3 kg of pure silver, that is 10 marks. The arrival of merchants in the most pleasant manner coincided with the departure of Ulrich to his homeland and Gottfried's important business trip to Venice, where he was to receive a very interesting order for a batch of equipment, after he was waiting for Rome and Naples, with the same questions. Far from it, of course, but the old customers were ordered in good lots and gave a solid deposit, so he was glad of such trips. As a result, on the blacksmith's farmstead for the next 2-3 months, in addition to the baron, there was only a smart but not very smart apprentice. Even the master's family, and she already lived in the countryside, with relatives, where she rested from the eternal noise of the smithy. Whatever you say, and almost the ideal combination of circumstances for the production of smart armor and the preservation of a maximum of secrecy around it. But it was just an illusion. Already on the third day of enthusiastic work in the smithy, events took place that postponed such a good cause for a couple of months. The fact is that through the city was a small military detachment of the domain of Philip II Augustus, who, using a favorable direction, carried out the protection of a group of Byzantine traders going to Vienna. Already in the city they had a conflict on the basis of payment, the Byzantines decided to halve the agreed amount, since the French were too much to apply to the wine that they were being brought for sale. Of course, the conflict broke out. Very quickly the guys switched to higher tones. It is not known who first snatched the weapon, but it so happened that a small slaughter occurred in the square near the St. Stephen's Cathedral. As you may have guessed - the French killed almost all the Byzantines, only the personal bodyguard of the commercial emissary could escape - Dregovich Ostrogneg. At this time, Eric just returned from a horse ride. The door to the house was open for ventilation. A wounded man jumped into it and collapsed on the threshold. Still that situation. The young baron immediately assessed the situation and decided to close the door, is not it enough. But, alas, the French saw where the pursued bodyguard had dived, and therefore they tried to break in once. The Baron did not like this arrogance at all. In his house, a wounded unarmed man was looking for shelter, and here some armed boars begin to break his door and water him with bad words. The door was still holding, so he quietly climbed to the second floor, loaded all three crossbows, peered out, evaluated the situation and set to bask in the sunshine of the three most frenzied knights. After that, loudly in Latin asked about burning need, disturbing the venerable gentlemen so much that they so unbecomingly disturb the master Baron. The conversation began. Eric immediately told the French - another blow on the door and he shoots again, the door is his, and he does not like their attitude to the property of a noble person. During the conversation a couple of times the French broke down, and so the discussion ended with five corpses in the Haubek. Our "Voroshilovsky shooter" very simply and clearly explained everything about customs, the right of asylum, noble honor, and indeed, he recalled the philanthropy and good-order rules. He mocked pretty gracefully, interwoven with religious motifs, familiar from the student days, with elements of black humor. Realizing that there is nothing to shine here, the gentlemen of the knights retired for a complaint to the Duke of Austria for the outrageous behavior of an eccentric teenager. Of course, they were able to take the lost fighters, only carefully folding their armor and weapons on the doorstep of the house - a fighting trophy, you can not argue. After watching how the French carried their dead companions, Eric went downstairs, took the hack inside, closed the door again and occupied himself with an unknown guest.
Morrigan was once again a very smart lady, and so when her companion was arguing with someone on the street, she was already dealing with a wounded stranger. He was completely unconscious, so the guys had to suffer with this elephant. 110 kg of live weight - this is not a pound of raisins for you. When this carcass walks itself, it's nothing, but when it needs to be carried on itself - it's absolutely terrible. With difficulty and affectionate words for an hour they were able to undress it, wash it, lay it on a couch and treat all wounds. In general, they had time on time, because, not allowing them to sit and take a breath, they knocked on the door. Eric looked out the second floor window - it was an old acquaintance - one of the duke's sergeants. We talked. Let's go to Friedrich. There he was already waiting for new friends who portrayed themselves as humility. Banberg listened to the young baron and decided to investigate the incident, participants of the city limits do not leave, and all the disputable property to be transferred to the Templars for storage. Behind each figurant, of course, was established surveillance, so that he did not run away. Here such an ill luck. Now the armor will not work, since the spy will certainly inform the duke, and he will show interest, he is a curious and savvy nature. I had to look for another occupation. So it was necessary to spend the second evening in meditations. Lucky for the third evening, and quite by accident - he lowered his gaze to the crossbow. See? He had long wanted to do this toy and bring it to mind, but did not reach his hands. So in the morning he went to the familiar merchant, who often visited the downstream Danube Bude, and ordered him a short but very powerful composite bow for the crossbow. At the same time he himself began to create a normal bed with a butt and tension and descent mechanisms. For the tensioning mechanism, one condition was set: he must be cocked, including riding a horse. A difficult task, since the onions ordered in Buda should have a tension force of about 180 kg. For this time - it turned out incredibly powerful shorty, because its total length of the wooden part did not exceed 50 cm. In general, Eric stopped on a system with a lowering mechanical gearbox of gears, which were driven by a lever. The lever was located on the underside of the bed, it was quite long, which increased the speed of the platoon, and after performing its function it was fixed along the bed. The trigger was made on the basis of a slightly modified traditional "apple" and turned out to be soft, with an effort of only 5 kg. Among other things, the bed was a single piece with a butt, which was made in the French rifle style, with a pistol grip. The platoon system was such that three turns of the lever brought the crossbow to the cocked state. During the platoon it was possible to rest against the hip and hold the handle made above the bolt channel, or in the old way to rest on the ground. Well, in the end, another nice detail - a trigger was added to the trigger mechanism, which fixed the bolt in the box and did not allow it to fall out, fixing it tight so that the crossbow could be shaken any way. So two months that the investigation was going on, he was absorbed in the manufacture of a fairly sophisticated design of propelling weapons. At the end of July, he was brought onions, for which he had to pay two brands, and he assembled the construction. It turned out quite compact and easy, since the weight of all the metal parts made of hardened bulat was only half a kilogram. The crossbow was cocked, of course, taut, but from a distance a hundred paces flew into the spangelhelm so that the bolt, breaking through the front part of the helmet, also crumpled the occipital. Yes, not just holed, and hitting in the frame, that is, in the thickest part, and this is up to 0. 5 cm of hardened steel. Slight accuracy suffered, as getting into the helmet came only from the tenth shot. This problem was solved by installing in the channel of the bolt the bronze guides. Accuracy, from this, however, has not greatly improved, so the next stage is the work with bolts. When he arrived, he stopped on the rigid plumage of a slightly distorted parabolic shape, and a slight narrowing of the diameter of the short pole of the bolt. This required the fixing of the lock and the guide channel of the bolt. Two months of lack of sleep and hard labor gave him a candy, able to put the bolts in the helmet at a distance of a hundred paces from the first or second shot, while if the bolt was not in the frame, it flew through, punching both walls. The maximum range of fire could not be determined because of the ban on leaving Vienna. The last four days Eric was bored and made himself bolts for a new crossbow. For this fascinating occupation, he found the old sergeant, who called him to Frederick. The local duke turned out to be quite an enterprising companion. Covering himself with the investigation, he, it turns out, learned the opportunity to get a lot of happiness in the event that something happens to his French friends. Finding out that he did not actually face any danger, he declared them thugs, that in broad daylight they killed Byzantine merchants and attacked the valiant Baron. What happened next, in general, obviously - the knights, stunned by the impudence of the ruler of Vienna, were hanged, not allowing to recover, and their property, together with the merchants' property, was decided to be divided. Of course, fraternally - the duke got almost everything. Specifically, our baron, who so successfully jostled in his own business, relied on all the personal property of the French, as well as the twentieth of the merchandise of all merchants. But even that was a lot. Two dozen Haubeks with a variety of skeleton helmets, as many copies and swords, swords from welded bands. In addition, twenty-ten-bucket barrels of excellent Cypriot wine of the brand "Commandaria", which in half a century are recognized as the best in Europe, and sixty cuts of fine woolen cloth, painted in bard, green and cornflower blue. The fabric cuts were a meter wide and twenty meters long. Eric even to place especially this wealth was nowhere. Therefore, he decided to share, playing for the future. Leaving for himself one barrel of wine, the rest distributed to churches and temples of the city, presented as a gift. The clergy were on the seventh heaven with happiness - to get so much excellent wine for free! He carried the canvas immediately to the Templars' courtyard and donated it, leaving only two 20-meter cuts of each color. Jean de Ree appreciated this gift, and completely free of charge. So literally the next day the courier of the order went to Cyprus with a report describing the genuinely friendly behavior of the venerable Eric von Lenzburg, as well as his noble deeds. In other words, our baron was enrolled in the Order's friends. Where, by the way, he was already invited, but he refused, referring to the weakness of spirit and deep interest in worldly affairs. However, the things that he received for a small battle at the "door of the house" turned out to be a trifle, compared to what the Duke Frederick I Banberg decided to present to him from himself. For the disinterested protection of the dispossessed, courage and skill in military matters, Baron Eric von Lenenburg was promoted to knights. In general, walked in honor of this case to glory. We had to pay for this joy, of course, to our newly-made knight, so that one more brand evaporated from his reserves. As for our friend Ostrohn, he was still in bed at the time of the verdict of the court, the French were already severely chopping him up, we can say with all his heart. But even in this state, having heard such pleasant news, he was absolutely delighted and literally brightened his face, filling with joy and pleasure, which only accelerated his recovery.
Finally, it all ended and you can again do blacksmithing. Perhaps you have smiles - armor, and bulat! After all, only weapons were made from him! Yes, it is really so, from bulat, basically, only weapons were made. But not because of the fact that it was impossible to make armor, but because of very great complexity in its, bulat, production and cost. And the skill of the forging business requires considerable, because from such material it is reasonable to forge only plate armor, and these are complex three-dimensional forms. As it is sad, but by the time of mastering such skills already appeared tolerable steel, which turned out to be much cheaper. And you thought that damask steel is a kind of steel? Too bad. In fact, damask is a mechanical mixture of high-carbon elements and low-carbon elements. In non-hardened form it can be not only forged, but cast! And these particles are fastened together by forge welding. Yes, and on the special properties of bulat can speak only after hardening. Excellent material, especially if there is no steel, and yet there are already references to it in Antiquity. So they lived - the units allowed themselves cool bulat blades, and the rest considered it a great happiness to get at least something iron. But I digress. Armor. It was decided to do in the early Gothic style, but by itself with modifications and modifications. We do not make a replica of an ancient craft, and while in antiquity, we create something new. Alas, even the available tools made it possible to do just a pretty rough craft in the spirit of late Gothic, and many elegant ribs of rigidity had to be forgotten. A very large throwing in the hero was in the matter of choosing a helmet. But, in the end, he decided not to spoil the strongly composite harmony of the silhouette and leave the sallet with bevor. The only thing - he did not do on the sallet "cancer neck", in order to facilitate it and make it more convenient. The balance of his shoulder pads, however, he broke, making his left shoulder somewhat more right. Sabatons decided not to do at all, replacing them with chain mail stockings. The groin area was covered with a short chain skirt. But the most difficult was the work on assembling elegant Gothic gloves, in the conditions of its technical equipment it was truly a jeweler's work. Case, however, moved very slowly, and then, a month after its beginning, our old acquaintance, Master Gottfried returned with his very ample orders. Eric had to help him from morning till night and only after that to work in the evenings for only two hours a day. So it was finished only by the middle of winter. He had to spend a full six months of his life, but he did it! The ready armor was assembled and tested for its functioning - landing on the body, fitting. After that, it had to be dismantled, slightly modified, polished and prepared for thermochemical treatment - quenching and blasting. The Baron decided to combine these two processes and to temper the mixture of flax and olive oil. In general, it is said - done. A noble armor came out! All armor armor! The forms are slender, even elegant, the surface is smooth, black. And it sits perfectly, and it's easy to move in it. The total weight of this toy turned out to be within twenty kilograms. Quite a bit, but considering that it is distributed throughout the body and almost does not constrain movements, it's just wonderful. Eric almost jumped with delight, that he did it. And most importantly - even Gottfried did not understand where everything had come from, and most importantly, only, with a puzzled expression, he was spinning around his craft in the very finale. It remained to work for small. As a weapon, he wanted a late blade - the sword of Dalmatian Slavs of the Renaissance times - the devil. Well, what, "toothpick" with a double-edged blade, about 4 cm wide and about a meter long. Garda basket. The shape of the blade is suitable for both chopping and piercing strokes; and on horseback come down, and on foot. Very sensible thing, over which he worked the next six months.
To complete the work on the armor more or less recovered Ostron. Whether a joke - he had four severe wounds and a lot of small, like broken bones. It hurt him and was sad, because he felt responsible for the death of the Byzantine. He did not see it in time for the intention of the bad francs. He did not pull out one who trusted in life. One joy was - they revenged those pests, but she quickly walked away and the darkness again enveloped him. The soul suffered and turned inside out from pursuing evil fate. Around him were all the people who trusted him with their lives. To look people in the eyes hurt, feeling themselves damned. Here and today, Eric returned from a horse walk, and the guest warmed by his eyes and faces gloomy.
"What's with you, Ost -neg? " - Eric has not (yet) talked with the guest in his native language, holding his knowledge as a trump card, and so they talked in Latin, which he knew at a tolerable level.
"I'm fine, sir, I can soon run like a colt. "
- And then what is gloomy? What makes you sad?
" You do not need to know, it's my pain, my heart. "And you will not help her.
"You can cure all the pain. "Say that as a girl you press.
And he told about the fate of his happy, how he found happiness and lost it time after time, and not simply, but through death lost. At first his Polovtsy killed his parents, and they hid her sister in prison. He followed her, tried to beat it off. While fighting back - his wife found himself there, polovchanka young. The three of them returned home, and even there - not destiny. How to transfer the steel through the Don, then the pursuit of them overtook, shoot began. Sister in the back hit, and perished in the water wounded. But my wife left. Burned, but moved away - they began to build a life. She bore him a child. And as with a big belly already walking, the horses died at the head. He raised the people to her. Came like kindly, on a visit, for what business. And how six people entered the house, then they squeezed him and dragged his wife into the street. I tried to wrestle myself, but I was firmly held, almost strangled. And how they let go, but went out onto the street and fell to his knees. They, Herods, his wife, on being knocked down, were hanged right in the courtyard on an apple tree. Then he completely and bristled with grief. All night long I went to visit. They did not lock the huts, so he would quietly go in with the ax, close the door behind him, and let the people cut it. Closer to the morning, he killed the whole village. There was no one left. He did not regret anyone, even children of crumbs. And the heaviness does not go away. At dawn, he buried his beloved, under that very apple tree, and went wherever his eyes looked. I was starving. It was hard. How he got to the capital city of Constantinople, he does not remember, but he was received there by a kind man in his service - to roll the bags on bargaining. A year later, seeing that the man he was right, transferred to the guard, and moved on. He taught it to the military business, trusted armor with weapons. Getting to him Ostroneg love sons, because he was alone in the world, no one to go. Yes again, I did not save - the Franks cut that man down, and he himself - he's still alive. It's hard for him. He loves everyone, everyone dies. No one survives, who will entrust his life to him. Said Dregovich, heaved a sigh and again drooped his head.
" You know, a strong friend, there is nothing to breed here. "Life does not hurt only those who are already dead. You say that everyone is dying, who will entrust your life to you? So it is fixable. Trust your life to someone, rock you and go around. I slowly collect the squad, but I do not want any people to take them. I like strong, loyal people. That faithfulness is kept to their word, both in life and in death. But my condition is - any of my orders, that the order of God. Life is lost, but fulfilled. For this and I will not forget you and do not hurt. But you will not obey, you will become arcan, you will be proud - I myself will prirezhu. You saw, I'm not throwing words into the wind. Well, how do you - will you come to me?
Ostroneg slowly raised his head and looked with his own, sky-blue, cold in the eyes in green, burning with indomitable, boiling energy Eric's eyes. They watched for a long time. Silently. Their faces were calm, and their posture was relaxed and graceful. Ten minutes passed. Dryagovich stood up without looking away, put his hand on his shoulder and said.
EricMy life and destiny are now in your hands. I swear to you in faithfulness, that in life, that in death. I swear before the face of my ancestors, before the ears of the glorious Dazhbog.
After that, he took a step back and bowed to the belt. And our hero got the second man in the team. And the next day on the fit of one of the French Haubeks, that they were never put up for sale. There was enough money, but useful things could come in handy.
Here comes the end of the second year, that the Baron lived in the glorious city of Vienna. A lot of things happened to him - good and bad. But he fulfilled the main task, so now he is prancing in brand new armor, leaving for a horse ride. Although he was not famous for his special kindness and affection, he was respected in the city. Ask for what? For the fortitude of the spirit, the sobriety of the mind and determination. Not everyone can fight off an assault by a band of robbers, and even fewer people can beat off a wounded man from a crowd of furious knights. Blood and death. He was in them by the elbow, but time was like that, and a person who can not kill in battle, was considered insignificant. And what about Christian virtues, you ask? Indeed, the role of our hero was associated with the glorious institution of chivalry. I will be forced to disappoint you, alas, noble knights had a place to be only in courtly novels, as well as later apocryphal dreams. Well, of course, in obituaries, because how, in his time, someone joked while reading the obituary, you can in all the details find out who the man was not. Are you upset? The image of the beautiful Ivanhoe was a beautiful fairy tale? Yes, yes, gentlemen, alas, this world is very cynical and rather dirty, and therefore we believe in fairy tales, in order to nurture a withering dream in one's soul. The times of Richard the Lionheart are very close to the times described in this book, so the institution of chivalry was about the same stage of its existence. What was he like? The key was that the knights were an internationally closed corporation, not subject to ordinary court, only their lord could judge them, and, with rare exceptions, it was so. An ordinary person in these times could no longer be elevated to knightly dignity except as having the right to be born. That is, his father should already be a knight, and this status could only have nobles. The descendants of the Vikings and the Normans, who plundered Europe for centuries, absorbed such habits of behavior and preserved them, even enveloped in a kind of aura of virtuous images. Their ancestors rushed into battle with shouts of "One! " on the lips, and the descendants, who did not escape the influence of Christianity, dedicated the blood that had flowed by the river to the Christian saints. Life practically did not lead, as to be engaged in something productive was considered unworthy of a noble knight. Therefore, all the free time they drank, walked, fought anyway with anyone, participated in tournaments, collected a tribute for the "protection" of the villages and plundered the same settlements, but already neighboring, when the money became very bad. The only noble cause was considered to be martial art - so they lived. By the way I want to note that human life was worth something only for someone who could not take it away, and therefore had to hire someone from outside. Agree - this completely does not coincide with those images of the noble defenders, which we paint in films and romantic books. Do you think it's fiction? And remember the wonderful right of the first wedding night, when all the girls, when they were getting married, were to spend the first night in the nobleman's bed. What, also does not fit with the image of the beautiful Ivanhoe? Just imagine - already a middle-aged wife is sitting in his turret, and our maturing noble knight is entertaining in his room with young peasants. And it is absolutely legal. Gryaznenko? Against? What is there to do? That is life. Although if you pack all this in armor and polish, you will get a noble knight in glittering armor, who elegantly will pass along the pavement and leave in the windows of houses a lot of beautiful ladies with oily eyes sighing about such a fascinating image. But we were dreaming. So, in the courtyard June of 1198, Vienna, our noble knight goes escorted by Ostronega to the market to ask for price and buy him a good horse.
Chapter 3
In the market they were waited with a surprise - on a small round patch between the rows the arriving troupe of stray actors arranged a small performance. Of course, a crowd gathered around them. After all, life in those days was pretty boring and the entertainment was rare and not very diverse, so the new stream that the guys brought was very useful. They sang, danced in a rather bizarre way, juggled with knives and played musical instruments. Nothing particularly surprising, but for Eric, who spent two years in the new world, such a view was enjoyable and not least. It was too gray here. Oddly enough, even clergymen, who officially condemned such things, rejoiced as children. But the performance came to an end and everyone dispersed. Our couple also went further on their own affairs, throwing around the actors. The mood was elevated, and the weather was good. Konya Ostrown found immediately, it was quite expensive, but they had an idyll - they liked each other right away. So much so that the horse did not need to lead the bridle, he himself followed our Slav. Walking past the Templar courtyard, Eric heard a noise and decided to go there, find out what had happened. In the courtyard there were twenty people crowding around the corpse, which lay face down. It was de Re. Noticing the baron, the knights turned and greeted him. Comrade Jean, knowing about the friendly relations between the deceased and the guest, decided to tell about what happened. It turns out that someone Gaspard, appearing as the commissioner of the doge himself, signed with the commander of the farmstead about an interesting deal related to transport for the Templars between Europe and Cyprus. Today this man's messenger came and said that Monsieur Gaspar had arrived incognito in Vienna and was waiting for Jean at Edwin's inn. Mr. Commodore went out the gate of the courtyard and literally a minute later returned with a pale face. Here he fell, and in his back stuck out a dagger.
Coming out of the Templars, Eric was sad - a man who saved his life, was killed in broad daylight by some kind of brazen killer. And the worst thing was that there was no one to take revenge - the killer is unknown. Monsieur Baudouin de Morel - in the past, assistant and associate de Re, and now - commander of the courtyard, was not at all inclined to talk. Our hero was obsessed with the obsession that he was told the official version, and not how it really was.
"Listen, Ostroneg, I've been meaning to ask how old are you? "
"About thirty, I can not say for sure, since he himself is from the peasants, and we do not exactly think of anyone. "
"Tell me from the height of your years, what do you think about what happened at the farmstead? "
"They lie, but I do not know what. "
That's what I think too. Okay, let's go home, think about it and figure out what's what in this matter, or else someone else will overhear on the street.
Drevlyanin nodded, and they went on in silence. In the house they closed the door, shutters and sat down with the girl to discuss the event. They decided to watch Baudouin and wait, but watching himself was very dangerous - he knew them very well. Therefore, mindful of the old films about the adventures of Sherlock Holmes, Eric decided to take advantage of the kids. Morrigan was instructed to find street children of small age and hire them for espionage. Everyone who brings useful information, relied denarius. The children were delighted, and therefore there were always a lot of them around the compound, so our suspect was under round-the-clock surveillance. I did not have to wait long. Literally a week later, DeMorel's connection was established with some strange gentleman. They met in the already mentioned tavern Edwin. It is necessary to shock the acquaintance, otherwise he too often began to figure in this matter. So early in the morning of the next day a young baron entered the door of his establishment, accompanied by a strong peasant. In the general hall it was completely empty, as the guests and visitors were mostly asleep. Therefore, it was decided to talk to him here, and the guy with a happy smile approached and, putting his hand on his shoulder, said:
"Remember, you promised never to deceive me again? "
"Yes, my lord, and I keep my word honestly. "
Well done,What I'm asking you now will be a test of my trust.
"Please, my lord, I am always honest before you. "
"Tell me, do you know the new Commander, Mr. de Morel? "
Yes, I do know
"Does he come to your place? "
- Occasionally.
"And why does he come? "
- Usually he meets with one person, they sit, talk about something, drink a little.
" How often? "Has it started for a long time? When was the last time? Do you know this second?
- About once a week. It all began a long time ago, probably five years already, as they have their meetings with me. Who is this last one, I do not know, but he usually stops by me when he comes.
"Edwin, be clever when he comes next time-send a boy to inform me. "
" Very well, my lord, I will do it. "And if you are not at home, then who will say?
"Or here it is," the baron nodded at Ostrogneg, "or the girl who lives with me. "
Ok. All will be fulfilled.
It did not take long to wait for them, because the next day a boy ran up to inform us of the arrival of a strange gentleman. Morrigan was immediately given the task of additional instructing the guys, which she ran hastily to perform. Actions began to unfold in an accelerated version. Closer to the evening came the information that the meeting took place and a mysterious stranger going to depart in the morning on his business. Eric decided to act quickly, nagging. Taking the Drevlyanin and a loaded crossbow, he headed straight for Edwin. When he saw the guests, he turned slightly white and slightly nodded at the staircase leading to a large and spacious room. The most expensive in the tavern. The door opened with the impact of Ostronega's foot, which, leaning in, immediately left aside from the line of fire. Next to him was a baron with weapons in preparation. The desired character was lying on a bench and completely not expecting an invasion. Eric stepped forward three steps and let his companion behind him, so that he closed the door. Then he began to slowly approach the frightened stranger, until he came close to him and sharply pierced the man in the face with a shovel of the butt. A came up the peasant added his fist, sending in oblivion. While he peacefully dozed, they stripped him naked, tied to a bench, they put a bench against the wall. To be able to interrogate, but he could not yell, they shook his mouth with a rag tape, cutting a small hole in the center. Much can articulate arrogantly, but it will not work. Then they started to do personal things. Nothing particularly interesting was found except for the encrypted letter, and therefore their ward was brought to life by a light blow to the crotch. The process of interrogation went quickly, productively, and when the esteemed Monsieur Gaspar had only three fingers left, and those on his leg, everything was already completely known about the incident that had occurred. It turns out that Baudouin had long been labeled for Jean's place, but he had good connections and he was confidently moving along the ranks of the order, unlike de Morel, whom he was dragging behind him. It was terribly insulting to be all the time on the sidelines, so he decided to remove his benefactor and take his place. For these purposes, links were established with the domain of Philip II Augustus, the King of France, who wished to have his people in the order. It was he who sent Gaspar to solve the existing difficulties. And then everything was easy. The fact is that Jean was looking for ways to circumvent the acute shortage of ships in the order and establish a permanent postal and transport connection with Cyprus. This is exactly what he was offered in his letters by Philip's attorney, interested and deprived of vigilance. And now, on a well-known day, he wrote that he was forced to refuse a favor, since a more interesting proposal came. De Rea, knowing where Gaspar is staying, rushed to him to swear and negotiate his personal gain in this project. But he managed to pass a little - literally next to the house, in the clothes of the beggar he was waiting for the joker himself and, as soon as he came up to him, he snatched a dagger from under the floor and put him in the back. Everything is done and the noise has subsided, so today, Baudouin brought a reward for hard work. It turned out to be rather big - a silver mark. Having learned everything that was necessary for them, they silently strangled our poor fellow, so that there would be less blood, because here it will be necessary to clean, it is not easy to wash it. It is necessary to respect the work of honest people. Then, after collecting the money and the encrypted letter, we went home. When they left, they asked Edwin to clean up, and ten denarii were put on the counter to compensate him for unpleasant troubles. He almost turned green, realizing what happened in the room, but not only did everything right, but he did not. So Monsieur Gaspard simply disappeared, along with his things. Just dissolved. With De Morel to understand it was necessary elegantly, because of his deed should learn the whole city, so much so that they would gossip without interruption. In this case, the guys who told about the small weakness of Baudouin to some Sabrina, the carpenter's daughter, helped again. The order was very strict with abstinence, but nature demands its own, so almost all its members had their own little secrets, which everyone guessed about, but kept quiet, for they did not see anything shameful about it. He attended the girl almost on schedule, so even her father knew the time when he needed to get some fresh air. Eric knew him, as well as the route. In general, the next morning, a patrol of city guards brought the body of Baudouin de Morel to the courtyard with a broken skull and a throat cut from ear to ear. To the body, with a knife, a purse and a note in Latin were attached. In the purse there were 30 silver denarii, and in the note words: "I return the damned money. Gaspar ". What has started in the city! The gates were closed, the city guards and the Templars began to search all the places where the murderer could hide. All the knights, led by the duke, constantly patrolled the streets, suppressing the discontent of the inhabitants. Our hero, as a person with a sincere sympathy for relating, and to the Templars, and personally to the accidentally deceased, even let a tear when he was informed of the death of a new commander. Of course, he ran around with everyone and looked for the hated killer, but, alas, the searches did not bring success, and therefore, a week later, turning the whole of Vienna upside down, I had to open the gate. Time heals, and after another week the events have subsided, but rumors have long been telling the story of a God-loving companion who ordered the murder of his master solely out of personal greed, and later himself died at the hands of a repentant hired killer. All affairs are over, all debts are dealt, so it's time to leave. There was a small, warm rain on the first day of August 1198, when Eric, accompanied by Ostronega and Morrigan, left for Venice.
A small caravan walked along the road to the south-west from Vienna. Only three riders and four clockwork horses with luggage. The first was Eric in a black Gothic armor, over which was a cornflower-blue cat with a silver cross on his chest, followed by Morrigan in a neat, discreet velvety-green woolen dress with small accessories of scarlet silk, such as the belt and edging of the edges. Closed the whole procession of Ostroneg in full chain armor - a haubek, on top of which was wearing a cat of the same color as the lady's dress. At the woman and the closing warrior two horses were tied to the saddle. In addition to the armor, there was also a weapon. The leader of the column was with an elegant blade and crossbow, and the warrior in his mail carried a spear, a round shield, put on his back, and an ax on his belt. Even a woman had a small knife attached to the saddle in such a way that it could easily be snatched. From the property they drove six high-quality Haubeks and the same helmets of the "pilot's" type, a couple of hundred bolts for the crossbow, a ten-liter barrel of "Commandaria" wine, several cuts of quality woolen cloth, a stock of provisions for a week, blacksmith tools, some of which were of jade, and still a lot of small things. In cash, they had 18 brands of the Vienna standard, six of which were in denarii and obol. But this rich prey did not deceive the robbers at all. A couple of times they even met openly on the road, but did not attack, but politely greeted them, they wanted a good journey and went further. The forest brothers were completely embarrassed and frightened of the armor that was worn on Eric, and the Baron himself seemed to them an animated statue, causing fear to interspersed with respect. The trip was quiet, calm, I would even say - peacefully. But such an idyll can not be eternal, and therefore, on the third day of the journey, they reached a strange village, where our heroes were waiting for new adventures.
They were noticed from afar, and therefore at the gate they were already waiting for the elder, the priest of the local church and a dozen men. Have communicated. It turned out that the village has been here for a week now as in an open confrontation between the smith and all the others. It all started with the fact that Valentino was shod by the headman's horse, and the latter, a few days later, broke his leg due to the fact that some of the nails in the horseshoe jumped off. Of course, they began to run into the horseshoe, demanding compensation for the damage. And that in refusal goes. They collected a world gathering, decided to keep the fugitive. So he openly declared at the meeting that the headman, they say, was to blame, because he hurried him and stood over his soul, and that's it, he auknulos. The debate began, as it should be. But, alas, Valentino did not like the people and was afraid, since he was an alien man, he lived on the outskirts, he did not talk to people much. I did not even want to take my wife for myself. So, little by little, the scales bowed in favor of the elders. Only his brother, Vincento, spoke for him. Realizing that they will not wait for justice - they sent the whole world to unprinted distances and went to the smithy, where they have been holding the defense for a week already. At first, the peasants decided to take them by storm, and beat them, for admonishment. But the blacksmith's brother was a hunter, and not a bad one, and therefore, seeing that the peasants go to the smithy in a crowd, without waiting for a conversation, he shot many from the bow. Who wounded, and whom he killed. They became fond of them. Vincento's wife and children were dragged out, on the hillock, in front of the smithy, their heads were chopped. For his family no one intervened, since his wife came to the village with him. So, not being afraid of revenge, their bodies were thrown in the same place, on a hillock. They decided to wait, to lure them to bury relatives, but nothing happened. Already, and became stinky in the neighborhood, and these two are sitting - holding on. Then they decided to come up at night and burn the smithy with their brothers. But here they were also set for failure, twenty men were killed, those from the arrows of the younger brother, who were from the elder's spear. Now they do not surrender to the village, they only overlaid on all sides, they wait when they die from hunger.
Eric looked at the elder's running eyes, thought for a minute and, without a word speaking, went on without calling in the village. But after driving a couple of miles to hide from the eyes of the villagers, he stopped and turned to the companions, looked at their faces. Ostroneg and Morrigan were angry to the extreme. Their faces were completely gray, and the pupils were so small that it seemed as if they were absent altogether! But they did not dare to contradict him - both were silent.