Read Online Hunting of the Last Dragon by Sherryl Jordan - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sherryl Jordan
Ads: Link
my taleâs terror. What? You want me to go on? Well, it is tempting to, and such kindly devotion to your task is most commendable; but I did plight my word to the Abbot that I would never keep you from your prayers. So off with you! Godspeed! I swear I shall not start again without you.
eight
Greetings, Brother! You are ready early today, your quill neatly sharpened, I see, and candles already lit, and a merry fire in the grate. A good day for writing, this, with rain outside and a cold autumn wind a-blowing! You have the better task, I think: I just saw Brother Nicholas out in the yard trying to round up the geese and head them into the barn. The Abbot wants their feathers kept in fine fettle, since theyâre his only supply of quills. Heâs very determined to have a pile of books copied out, so he can begin his dream of teaching every soul to read. Iâm not sure that the geese will be right thrilled about it; theyâve few enough tail feathers already.
All right, Iâll continue! Godâs truth, you monks have lively ways of getting across your wants, despite your vows of silence!
I did not rest that night. I followed the river upstream, knowing it would take us from the woods and back to the town. A little after cockcrow we left the trees, to find a sunny day. I was mortal weary but dared not stop, knowing Tybalt valued Lizzie and would likely be out on his horse, searching. But I changed the way of carrying Lizzie, and took her on my back, as I oft had carried little Addy. It was easier that way, and Lizzie could hold on with her arms about my neck. Travelling northwestwards, we avoided the town, skirting the tilled fields and the meadows, then kept to the tracks through the moorlands. We passed villages and farms, and saw people shearing sheep while others washed the fleeces in the streams. I thought of my mother twisting yarn upon her distaff, and my heart ached. All of me ached, from memories and weariness, and from the beating Richard had given me the day before.
Near the middle of the day I stopped to rest. We had been walking through stony moors following a stream, which I supposed would lead to villages further ahead, where we might get food and shelter for the night. We stopped by an old oak tree, and I set Lizzie down in the shade. âI need to sleep,â I said. âI canât walk night and day without rest.â
Crouching by the water, I drank deeply. It wasbrackish but quenching. Lizzie crouched nearby to drink.
âWould you like a swim?â I asked, thinking of the day I had danced in the river with her and raised Tybaltâs ire.
âI think not,â she said. I was sorry, for I would gladly have carried her in again.
When we had finished drinking she got her motherâs silken dress from where she had dropped it on the grass, and washed it in the shallows, cleaning off the grime from last night in the woods. I offered to help her, but she shook her head and went on with the washing, dipping the scarlet folds in the stream, then rubbing them carefully to get off the stains. I wondered that she held the silk so dear, then remembered it was all she had of her old life, all she had of her family. And I thought how I would have given much to have just one little thing my parents had owned, some tiny link, something I could touch that was of them.
The washing done, she limped up to the tree and hung the silk across a branch to dry. Then she stood at the edge of the shade, looking out across the rolling wastes we had crossed. Very still she stood, her eyes like polished ebony, her gold-brown skin as glowing as the day. I had not often seen her on her feet, forshe had been always sitting in her cage, or else lying on the ground while I cleaned it out; and it was odd to see her standing free like that, beside the wild moors. Looking at her, I felt awkward of a sudden, for her skirts were wet and clinging, and she was willow-slender and graceful, and pleasing to
eight
Greetings, Brother! You are ready early today, your quill neatly sharpened, I see, and candles already lit, and a merry fire in the grate. A good day for writing, this, with rain outside and a cold autumn wind a-blowing! You have the better task, I think: I just saw Brother Nicholas out in the yard trying to round up the geese and head them into the barn. The Abbot wants their feathers kept in fine fettle, since theyâre his only supply of quills. Heâs very determined to have a pile of books copied out, so he can begin his dream of teaching every soul to read. Iâm not sure that the geese will be right thrilled about it; theyâve few enough tail feathers already.
All right, Iâll continue! Godâs truth, you monks have lively ways of getting across your wants, despite your vows of silence!
I did not rest that night. I followed the river upstream, knowing it would take us from the woods and back to the town. A little after cockcrow we left the trees, to find a sunny day. I was mortal weary but dared not stop, knowing Tybalt valued Lizzie and would likely be out on his horse, searching. But I changed the way of carrying Lizzie, and took her on my back, as I oft had carried little Addy. It was easier that way, and Lizzie could hold on with her arms about my neck. Travelling northwestwards, we avoided the town, skirting the tilled fields and the meadows, then kept to the tracks through the moorlands. We passed villages and farms, and saw people shearing sheep while others washed the fleeces in the streams. I thought of my mother twisting yarn upon her distaff, and my heart ached. All of me ached, from memories and weariness, and from the beating Richard had given me the day before.
Near the middle of the day I stopped to rest. We had been walking through stony moors following a stream, which I supposed would lead to villages further ahead, where we might get food and shelter for the night. We stopped by an old oak tree, and I set Lizzie down in the shade. âI need to sleep,â I said. âI canât walk night and day without rest.â
Crouching by the water, I drank deeply. It wasbrackish but quenching. Lizzie crouched nearby to drink.
âWould you like a swim?â I asked, thinking of the day I had danced in the river with her and raised Tybaltâs ire.
âI think not,â she said. I was sorry, for I would gladly have carried her in again.
When we had finished drinking she got her motherâs silken dress from where she had dropped it on the grass, and washed it in the shallows, cleaning off the grime from last night in the woods. I offered to help her, but she shook her head and went on with the washing, dipping the scarlet folds in the stream, then rubbing them carefully to get off the stains. I wondered that she held the silk so dear, then remembered it was all she had of her old life, all she had of her family. And I thought how I would have given much to have just one little thing my parents had owned, some tiny link, something I could touch that was of them.
The washing done, she limped up to the tree and hung the silk across a branch to dry. Then she stood at the edge of the shade, looking out across the rolling wastes we had crossed. Very still she stood, her eyes like polished ebony, her gold-brown skin as glowing as the day. I had not often seen her on her feet, forshe had been always sitting in her cage, or else lying on the ground while I cleaned it out; and it was odd to see her standing free like that, beside the wild moors. Looking at her, I felt awkward of a sudden, for her skirts were wet and clinging, and she was willow-slender and graceful, and pleasing to
Similar Books
