Читать книгу: «Princess cat», страница 2
The Green Well
Barely a crack of dawn came when the rough activity in the fields came to a halt. Maybe if the sun rises, the bad things in the fields go to sleep. Brendan awoke the next morning convinced that what had happened to him that night was a joke of the devil. They say it often frightens travelers in deserted places. There are even tales of wandering fires that lure lonely travelers into swamps or precipices.
One must be more careful in the future, that is, travel during the day and not at night. He was in such a hurry to get as far away from Aluar as possible, that he did not calculate his own strength or time. His tired body ached as if it had been beaten.
Good thing there were no more fields ahead. Otherwise, the sight of rye and wheat was already making him sick. It was a nervous reaction! The green meadows didn’t look like magic, yet Brendan stepped very carefully through them. There might be a hole under the grass, and if you fell into it, you’d go straight to the underworld, where the creepy creatures lived.
A few miles of the road passed in complete tranquility. The sun warmed his skin pleasantly, but by noon it was getting too hot. Brendan was thirsty, looked for a flask of wine in his bundle, and found it was gone. He must have dropped it while running through the enchanted fields at night. Or perhaps a drinking fiend had stolen it.
The devil had done him a great disservice. His throat was dry, and there was nowhere to get water. He wondered how far to walk to the nearest village, where there is a well?
As soon as he thought of a well, it suddenly appeared in the meadow, as if from under the ground.
As Brendan approached the well, he noticed that the entire well was covered in mud. Even the bucket had turned green from the mud.
Brendan wanted to pass by, but a scaly green tentacle suddenly deftly coiled itself around his neck and drew him to the well.
Who would have thought the serpent on the blockhouse would be alive!
«Excuse me, I didn’t mean to touch anything!» Brendan hoped that the well guard, like the scarecrow in the field, understood human speech. Though at the sight of someone hissing and dragon-faced, there was little hope of that. «I am not a thief by any means! I had no ill intentions toward your well, that is, the house in which you reside. I was only curious to take a look.»
Brendan justified himself as best he could, hoping the creature would understand him. He might as well have hoped that the well serpent had an excellent grasp of the sciences and court etiquette.
«I was only passing through.»
«Are you passing?» The serpent squinted. His tail, which had already half strangled Brendan, suddenly loosened its grip.
«No one passes my well without guessing the riddle.»
In the snake’s hiss, human speech was barely audible.
Brendan could barely catch his breath when the serpent let him go. A necklace of bruises was left on his neck. But the poisonous saliva of the serpent, which dripped on his skin, gave him burns.
– If I don’t guess the riddle, will you eat me or burn me? – Brendan grimaced. He was no good at guessing riddles.
«If you guess it, I’ll let you go ahead,» he hissed with a sly tone. «But it will be better for you if you don’t. Then I have the right to keep you out of the castle.»
«There isn’t a castle,» Brendan said indignantly. «It’s an empty horizon.»
Even if the serpent didn’t eat him, going back to the enchanted fields was worse than going to hell. The mystery of the serpent would have to be solved.
«Well, let’s get to it! Or will you buy me a nice glass of Aluar wine before the riddle? Do you have any clean water left in your well?»
The serpent was clearly offended. He’d obviously thought the well, overgrown with slime, was very clean. Now it was clear that the green traces on the well, is poisonous saliva of the snake. It turned the whole well green. The snake’s skin was the same color, bright emerald. You’d think he himself had crawled out of some fabulous treasure trove, not a rotten well.
«Listen carefully, boy! I will not say it again!» The serpent’s bright yellow eyes flashed slyly. Their gaze was slightly hypnotizing. A powerful emerald tail tightly enveloped the log of the well.
«She is beautiful and delicate, like the rose of May, and she is the same, prickly as the thorns of a rose. When you see her, you almost fall in love. It is almost, but not quite. It is because there is one small obstacle to falling in love completely. If you touch her, you’ll immediately hurt yourself, like you hurt yourself on the rose thorns. Who is she? Tell me her name!»
«Is it her name? I am not acquainted with such a lady.»
«You may not call her by name, but by her title.»
Brendan scratched at the back of his head. A dead end! It was just as he supposed. He was no good at riddles.
«Do I have an hour to think about it?»
«You’re such a slowcoach!» The serpent was almost triumphant, feeling his victory.
«I’m not a magical creature like you. I can’t think instantly,» Brendan snapped at him.
«You people are all so weak and feeble and stupid,» the serpent chided him triumphantly. «Well, at least you’re not rude, unlike the rest of the strangers. So I’ll give you five minutes.»
«That’s not enough!»
At least give me 24 hours. Then you could have hoped for help from a good fairy, or at least evil, if such flies over the fields, and in exchange for the soul will help with the decision. But there were no helpers around. He was alone with the serpent.
«Do you have a watch?» Brendan tried to confuse the snake. «You can’t tell the time without a watch. I could run to the nearest town and get it. You said there was a castle near here.»
«Don’t bother!» The serpent pulled a sandglass, overgrown with mud, from the well, with the tip of his tail. What a bastard! He’s got everything! He’s probably got a torture machine ready for anyone who can’t solve the riddle.
He could try to escape from him, but Brendan already knew that a snake’s tail catches faster than a lasso.
The hourglass was green from the mud, but it worked fine. The serpent flipped it over with the tip of its tail, and the sand spilled down.
Along with the sand, his life was running out. Something had to be done. It is useless to puzzle over a riddle.
«Let me play for you!» Brendan took out his lute. He has exactly five minutes. He can spend it on whatever he likes. He has little choice: he can either beg for mercy, which would be of no use, or he can utter a curse, which would only have a bad result, causing the serpent to attack him. Choose music, the most harmless solution.
Once drowning, so with a pleasant melody!
«Just don’t sing any slow ballads. I do not stand them,» almost resentfully hissed snake. He wanted to bury his ears in his tail, but the problem was that he only had one tail, and two winged ears. One was left free to hear Brendan play.
The music made the snake relax. Could it have a hypnotic effect on him? Then it was not for nothing that he did not want to listen to it. Five minutes passed, and Brendan kept striking the strings of the lute, playing melodious sounds. The serpent did not think of interrupting him. On the contrary, he wagged his tail awkwardly and broke the clock, which he himself had set on the edge of the well. The sand in it was green. It hissed as the glass shattered, but the serpent paid no attention. He began mumbling something sleepily to the music.
«Living vines! Dry vines! The whispering of fairies! A spell! She should never have turned him down. The groom was good. And now there’s magic everywhere. Grapes and roses are about to drive me out. They are as aggressive as the magically gifted matchmaker.»
It must be another mystery. Maybe the serpent forgot that he hadn’t guessed the first one either. It’s a clear overdose. Brendan’s riddles and problems immediately gave him a headache. As his uncle the king had often told him, he was stupid. He hadn’t even mastered swordsmanship. But he did learn music. It was more useful with the serpent. With one sword he would have been strangled here long ago.
«What a wonderful sound!» The serpent stretched and yawned sleepily. «It’s a long time since my mistress played for me like that.»
«And you even have a mistress! May I see her?»
Maybe, at least, she’ll tell him do not to terrorize travelers.
«It is all right! Come on in!» grumbled the serpent. «I only let you in because I have a weakness for musicians.»
Brendan rejoiced. He had told his uncle he had talent! And the old king didn’t believe him. And he shouldn’t have. Music doesn’t need an army to put a dragon to sleep. Still, Brendan had a guilty conscience after all.
«I will try to solve your riddle on the way back,» he promised.
«Is it on the way back?» The serpent grinned sarcastically, letting out a puff of green smoke as he fell asleep. «He is an optimist! He hopes there will be a way back from here.»
Another man would have been alarmed, but Brendan decided to let the well-dweller mutter all he wanted. In his half-asleep state, the serpent resembled a drunk. And drunks, as everyone knows, don’t know what they’re saying. The music probably had the same effect on him as alcohol does on people. Even the green vapor he exhaled folded into hearts and notes. Who would have thought the well dragon would turn out to be such a music lover. Brendon rejoiced in his good fortune and moved on. Strangely enough, as soon as he passed the well, the silhouette of a beautiful white-stone castle twined with vines loomed up in the distance. He had not seen it a moment before.
Cat’s Castle
The green creature on the well was sleeping peacefully. Brendan kept turning around, fearing that the serpent might blow green fire at him. He said «pass,» as if his mistress were hiding just ahead. But there was no one around.
Brendan tripped over something and swore. It felt as if his boot had been bitten right through. Was there another snake hiding in the grass? No, it was just a skull underfoot. It was an unusual one. He was neither animal nor human. It looks like the skull of a supernatural creature, with several eye sockets, a mouth with fangs, a shell-shaped skull, and curved horns, also made of bone. He wondered what such a creature was called while it was alive.
«Don’t go!»
Well, what’s the matter! Why does everybody keep telling him, «Don’t go»? Is that where the devil is waiting ahead?
«You won’t come back like me, you fool!» warned the skull as Brendan gently stepped over it and went on.
If everyone warned not to go ahead, then there’s a fabulous treasure waiting there, Brendan thought.
The white stone castle loomed in the distance, against the blue skies. Its towers had the color of puffy clouds floating above them. The fortress wall was also white.
It would take an hour to reach it, Brendan estimated in his mind, but he did not reach it until late afternoon. The torches on the parapet were already blazing, illuminating the bizarre architecture of the walls.
Up close, the castle was even more beautiful than he could have imagined. Vines stretched along the walls like a luxurious net. The walls themselves abounded with stucco decorations and alabaster statues.
The gates were open, as if they were already waiting for a guest. The caryatid winked at him. Or was it just a dream?
Outside the gate was a beautiful garden of roses, jasmines, magnolias, and exotic plants.
The avenue of rosebushes leading to the open castle doors was empty. No guests but Brendan himself, no guards.
There are also bas-reliefs of graceful cats engraved on the doors that open. And inside you can see tapestries depicting a cat’s hunt for mice and birds. The interior of the castle was decorated either by a great humorist or an avid feline.
Brendan whistled when he noticed a fountain inside the spacious hallway, with wine pouring out instead of water. And he wanted to drink from the well! Of course there was no bucket or glass beside the fountain, but if he was thirsty he could always take a scoop of wine with his hand. It was sweet and invigorating, of the highest grade for sure! It was not until he was thirsty that Brendon remembered that the wine might be bewitched, or worse, poisoned.
«Look who’s here!»
A pleasant girl’s voice came from the top of the stairs. Brendon looked up and saw two slender ladies. One of them, a brunette in a blue dress with bows, was an incomparable beauty. The second was dressed even more splendidly, but for some reason she hid her face under a veil. Was she a sorceress, perhaps? Effigenia also liked to throw a black veil over her head from time to time. She was rumored to enhance her connection to the spirits that way. Someone more realistic asserted that she was hiding age-related wrinkles. Since she used the veil most often in bright daylight, the second is more likely. What about the mistress of this castle? Brendan was sure it was the lady under the veil who was the mistress, because only a princess could afford such an expensive outfit, embroidered with gold thread and pearls. Is she hiding her face because she has made some elaborate vow to the gods? Or is it because she is ugly?
In any case, Brendan was more attracted to the first girl. She had black sable eyebrows, violet eyes, a chiseled profile, and soft dark hair that cascaded down her bare shoulders. In a word – beautiful! Except that her plump pink lips pouted dismissively at the sight of a mere minstrel. Perhaps she was waiting for a prince. A mere musician showed up. And he was in his dusty clothes. If only she knew how difficult it was to run through the magic fields without tearing his clothes.
«It is another guest!» She blurted out phlegmatically, as if Brendan were a disappointment to her.
«I am not a guest. I am an employee,» he immediately tried to prove his usefulness and showed her the lute. «I am a minstrel.»
It was as if the beauty had not heard him.
«We’ve had many guests before, and they’ve all disappointed us. Maybe we’ll have better luck with this one.»
What’s she talking about? And what’s with the way she talks about him like he’s a piece of furniture? Either he’s being deliberately mocked, or he’s misunderstood something.
«If I’m not welcome here, I’ll be going,» Brendan was reluctant to leave, but he turned around defiantly.
«You’re not going anywhere,» the pretty girl said arrogantly. «We don’t let our guests leave so quickly.»
Would she go down the stairs to the hall to greet him as usual, or should he ignore decorum and go up himself? There are no guards around, so you can behave however you want.
Brendan brazenly went up himself, though no one invited him. The flight of stairs was even more chic than the one below. And the brunette was even prettier up close. Except that in the light of the sconces you could see the deep scratches on her neck and shoulders.
«A cat scratched you, too!» Brendan wanted to roll up his sleeve and show her the scratches, but she snorted angrily.
«What makes you think it’s a cat?»
«I just thought…»
He thought he’d found a comrade in grief.
«I know from experience that pampered palace cats are not always affectionate to the lords’ minions.
«Watch your tongue. You insult us.»
«Whom do you mean? Are they you, her, the cats? Or are they the minions of noble lords?» Brendan realized that if the beautiful woman was the mistress’ companion, then the word «hangers-on» might have been applied to her before he had. Then no wonder she was so angry. It was not clear why her mistress suddenly felt so unwell. The lady under the veil almost fainted.
Brendan could only now see how splendid her attire was. The corset was embroidered with tiny diamonds, the sleeves were decorated with sapphires, and the layered skirts were made of the most expensive Aluar’s brocade. Only kings could afford such. The lady herself, judging by her graceful figure, is worthy of the costume. Her waist is as narrow as a hornet’s waist. Her movements are supple. Her posture is haughty. What is her face like, he wondered? It can’t be an ugly face in such a graceful lady! Her voice is very pleasant.
«Do not be offended, Rebecca. He meant no harm,» said the veiled lady to her companion, or lady’s confidante, or servant.
«You are an angel of mercy! You know what I mean!» Brendan encouraged his hostess. «By the way, I am a very talented minstrel. My music makes people, and even snakes, feel as euphoric as if they had gone to heaven.»
Well, if you don’t praise yourself, no one will know how good you are! Rebecca looked at Brendan with great doubt. He wasn’t lying. She was the only one who was a liar. The scratches on her skin were obviously cat’s scratches. Only a cat could have made such marks on her shoulders, her neck, part of her cheek, even her arms. Brendan only now considered how serious the damage was. Maybe that’s what made her so angry. He couldn’t handle the Bastard himself, so he endured the pain of the scratches. It was impossible to negotiate peace and friendship with the royal cat. Thankfully, Rebecca’s thin scratches on her cheek didn’t spoil her at all. They were fresh. You could still see blood on them. But when they healed, there might not be any scars left. Brendan himself had hardly any scars from the Bastard’s claws.
«Cats, when they scratch, they just play,» he whispered to Rebecca. «Next time you don’t play with the pet with your bare hands, you’d better take the ribbon.»
Rebecca herself almost hissed with anger at the friendly advice, like a real cat.
«Idiot!» She muttered to herself under her breath.
«He us so handsome and so stupid,» her veiled companion said thoughtfully.
«What’s that?» Brendan couldn’t help it.
«It’s all right.»
«You need your rest. We have a bedroom for guests,» said Rebecca, who had taken a candle from the ornamental table, though there was enough light from the sconces on the walls.
«You must have hundreds of bedrooms here,» Brendan followed the ladies inside the castle, marveling at the lavish surroundings. True, there were too many locked rooms. But the gilded doors gave the impression of wealth and luxury.
«Are you the mistress of the castle?» Brendan wished he could see the mysterious lady’s face under a layer of silk. The beige veil with lace trim was, alas, opaque.
«She’s the local princess,» Rebecca snapped. «She owns all the land and everything in it.»
«Then she’s magic, because there’s a lot of magic in the lands around your castle,» Brendan blurted out, and then bit his tongue. If she really did make all that magic he’d escaped from in the night, she could hardly be expected to cast a spell on him. Turn him into a toad, for instance. He is being disrespectful. You have to agree with witches, or you’ll be in a lot of trouble.
«Am I a sorceress?» The lady gave a very theatrical show of amazement. «That’s the first I’ve heard. I have been called many things-beautiful, a heartbreaker, a rival, a senseless person who sends knights to their doom-but never a sorceress.»
Her train, like a tail, whipped Brendan to his feet. It was certainly not done on purpose, but somehow he was still embarrassed. It was as if he’d been put in his place.
«You’ll play for me tomorrow night at dinner,» the princess decided.
Why not tonight? It’s suppertime-unless they’ve decided to skimp on the minstrel’s food tonight.
«They’ll bring your supper to your chambers. You are tired. Tonight you will rest and eat, and tomorrow you will entertain us.»
Now that’s noble. He thought he’d be exploited at once.
«Thank you!»
But the princess had already slipped behind one of the closed doors, and Rebecca led him down the corridor. There was no flirting with her. The beauty was very serious.
«Do not think that if you are allowed to stay, you can do anything,» she warned.
«Can I see the cat that scratched you so? Does it live in the Princess’s apartments?»
The Bastard always slept and ate in the King’s apartments. It must be the same here. He wondered what the local cat’s name is. «Is it the Sadist? Is it Lady Scratchy? Or is it just Rival?» Rebecca was definitely hurt by it, so to her the princess’s cat was no other than a rival.
«If you were smarter, you wouldn’t ask so many questions.»
«You sound like a schoolteacher. Where are we going, by the way?» Brendan quipped. Rebecca’s coldness hurt him. It’s not nice when a pretty girl pretends she’s not interested in you. Nothing! After listening to him play, she’ll be kinder. All girls love to hear minstrels.
At the end of the corridor was a winding spiral staircase.
«It’s the way to the tower,» Rebecca explained.
«Is my bedroom is in the tower?»
«Yes, it is.»
«I feel like a prisoner.»
«Don’t be so dramatic. You’re a guest, of course.»
The lock on the door was strong. Rebecca opened it with a key from a large bundle she carried with her. Behind the door, however, it was so luxurious that Brendan dismissed the notion of a dungeon. The silk-covered walls, the paintings on the ceilings, and the abundance of upholstered furniture created aristocratic comfort. The bed under a lush canopy was the size of an entire tent, and there were vases of flowers on the cherry wood tables. A tray of supper was already waiting here. He wondered who had brought it. Brendan did not notice the servants. They must have learned to sneak around like shadows. With Rebecca’s nervousness, it was no wonder they’d been trained that way.
Who would have thought that a wandering minstrel would be treated like a nobleman? Something’s not right after all. Either they suspected he wasn’t who he said he was. Or his uncle has sent out messengers with news that he’s wanted. He must be on his guard. Brendan locked the door with a latch and prepared in advance a rope from a torn sheet to escape through the window in case of capture. It was very high up here, but there were bushes of vines twisting below the tower. Their vines braided the window vault. It was a pity they were not so strong that they could be climbed down at once.
Brendan’s entire dinner consisted of fruit. Not a crust of bread. He wasn’t used to this kind of diet, but it was better than nothing. A pitcher of fine ale supplemented his diet. The ale was unaccustomedly strong. The first sip made him insufferably sleepy. Brendan hoped he might dream again about the blonde called Rashelina.
