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.