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.