Read Online Lord of Mountains: A Novel of the Change by S. M. Stirling - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: S. M. Stirling
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wicked imitation of a man riding naked, clutching himself and wincing as he came into contact with the saddle.
Huon thought for an instant, took a bite out of the crisp sweetness of the apple himself, then spoke with a lofty air:
“You girls should be more respectful and kinder to strangers as the Lord commands. We might come out of the water and chase you!”
Ava threw another apple; Lioncel managed to catch it this time.
“Chase us?” she said. “You couldn’t chase us. You have nothing to wear, you’re as naked as Adam in the Garden of Eden!”
Huon pointed at the reeds. “We could grab some of those. Then we’d be clothed like Adam
after
the Fall.”
“You couldn’t
catch
us,” Oriabelle said. “Not through the hay-stubble. You have soft, white, tender feet. Gentleman’s feet, not like this.”
She put her hands on her hips and turned, standing on one foot and waggling the sole of the other at him as she looked over her shoulder. It had the calluses you’d expect on someone who didn’t wear shoes for the warmer eight months of the year. The movement also drew her tunics rather tight, and he found himself swallowing with difficulty and glad the water was cold.
“You wouldn’t
dare
to chase us,” Ava said, standing hipshot.
Her eyes were on Lioncel and her teeth white against her tan as she taunted:
“Why, I bet the young, cute blond one with the sweet blue eyes couldn’t chase us even as far as…oh, that haystack there.”
She pointed at the nearest one, about a hundred yards away. Huon tossed his apple aside and looked at Lioncel. The other squire met his gaze and nodded slightly.
“A nobleman is supposed to show resource and initiative,” Lioncel whispered. “Lady d’Ath told me so herself.”
“One…two…
“
Three!
”
They dashed for the bank in a shower of droplets, pausing for a few seconds to rip up reeds in their left hands, holding them strategically as they bounded up the bank. The girls snatched up their baskets and retreated across the hayfield. The hay-stubble
was
painful on soles accustomed to socks and boots, and Huon was conscious of the way he was prancing and lifting his feet; fruit bounced off his chest and shoulders as the girls made a stand near the haystack.
“No catapult can stop a knight’s charge!” Huon roared.
Ava dashed off around the corner of the stack, holding the skirts of her tunic up with both hands and giving little mock screams, with Lioncel in close pursuit. Huon caught Oriabelle around the waist and they collapsed into the prickly-sweet embrace of the hay.
Huon sat bolt upright some time later, as he heard Lioncel’s voice shout:
“Oh, sweet Jesu,
look at the sun!
The Grand Constable will
roast
us!”
He looked at the shadows and moaned himself; Her Majesty wasn’t as much of a dragon as Lady Death, but you didn’t want to slack off around her either. He darted upright and helped Oriabelle as well. They walked hand-in-hand back to the poolside willows, with Ava and Lioncel following; Huon was aware that he was smiling rather foolishly, but he hoped it wasn’t as simpleminded-looking as the younger squire’s expression.
And we’re both walking tiptoe
, he thought.
“Poor feet!” Oriabelle said. “Poor gentleman’s feet!”
“We’re late,” Lioncel said tightly, as the two squires rode the final downhill mile to Maryhill.
The last hot sliver of the sun was just sliding under the horizon westward,silhouetting the mountain peaks, and the sky was purpling above where it wasn’t clouds tinged crimson and yellow and cream-white. Huon crossed himself as they passed Stonehenge and brought out his crucifix to kiss. The circle of standing blocks stood on a bench with a breathtaking view across the gorge and the river. This was supposed to be a duplicate of the first one in far-off fabled Britain, ancestral land of Arthur and so many of the ancient tales, where the King-Emperor of Greater Britain reigned from Winchester these
Huon thought for an instant, took a bite out of the crisp sweetness of the apple himself, then spoke with a lofty air:
“You girls should be more respectful and kinder to strangers as the Lord commands. We might come out of the water and chase you!”
Ava threw another apple; Lioncel managed to catch it this time.
“Chase us?” she said. “You couldn’t chase us. You have nothing to wear, you’re as naked as Adam in the Garden of Eden!”
Huon pointed at the reeds. “We could grab some of those. Then we’d be clothed like Adam
after
the Fall.”
“You couldn’t
catch
us,” Oriabelle said. “Not through the hay-stubble. You have soft, white, tender feet. Gentleman’s feet, not like this.”
She put her hands on her hips and turned, standing on one foot and waggling the sole of the other at him as she looked over her shoulder. It had the calluses you’d expect on someone who didn’t wear shoes for the warmer eight months of the year. The movement also drew her tunics rather tight, and he found himself swallowing with difficulty and glad the water was cold.
“You wouldn’t
dare
to chase us,” Ava said, standing hipshot.
Her eyes were on Lioncel and her teeth white against her tan as she taunted:
“Why, I bet the young, cute blond one with the sweet blue eyes couldn’t chase us even as far as…oh, that haystack there.”
She pointed at the nearest one, about a hundred yards away. Huon tossed his apple aside and looked at Lioncel. The other squire met his gaze and nodded slightly.
“A nobleman is supposed to show resource and initiative,” Lioncel whispered. “Lady d’Ath told me so herself.”
“One…two…
“
Three!
”
They dashed for the bank in a shower of droplets, pausing for a few seconds to rip up reeds in their left hands, holding them strategically as they bounded up the bank. The girls snatched up their baskets and retreated across the hayfield. The hay-stubble
was
painful on soles accustomed to socks and boots, and Huon was conscious of the way he was prancing and lifting his feet; fruit bounced off his chest and shoulders as the girls made a stand near the haystack.
“No catapult can stop a knight’s charge!” Huon roared.
Ava dashed off around the corner of the stack, holding the skirts of her tunic up with both hands and giving little mock screams, with Lioncel in close pursuit. Huon caught Oriabelle around the waist and they collapsed into the prickly-sweet embrace of the hay.
Huon sat bolt upright some time later, as he heard Lioncel’s voice shout:
“Oh, sweet Jesu,
look at the sun!
The Grand Constable will
roast
us!”
He looked at the shadows and moaned himself; Her Majesty wasn’t as much of a dragon as Lady Death, but you didn’t want to slack off around her either. He darted upright and helped Oriabelle as well. They walked hand-in-hand back to the poolside willows, with Ava and Lioncel following; Huon was aware that he was smiling rather foolishly, but he hoped it wasn’t as simpleminded-looking as the younger squire’s expression.
And we’re both walking tiptoe
, he thought.
“Poor feet!” Oriabelle said. “Poor gentleman’s feet!”
“We’re late,” Lioncel said tightly, as the two squires rode the final downhill mile to Maryhill.
The last hot sliver of the sun was just sliding under the horizon westward,silhouetting the mountain peaks, and the sky was purpling above where it wasn’t clouds tinged crimson and yellow and cream-white. Huon crossed himself as they passed Stonehenge and brought out his crucifix to kiss. The circle of standing blocks stood on a bench with a breathtaking view across the gorge and the river. This was supposed to be a duplicate of the first one in far-off fabled Britain, ancestral land of Arthur and so many of the ancient tales, where the King-Emperor of Greater Britain reigned from Winchester these
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