Bard I Read Online Free PDF Page B

Erin.’
    ‘Erin?’ Murd looked at his guest with awe. That was the other side of the world to him. further. The kingdoms of western Britain were the other side of his world, known to him only by rumour and hearsay. Ireland lay beyond it altogether. ‘Why, that’s where the spirits o’ the blessed dead go! The snow never falls there, and there’s no adder nor any other poisonous thing, and the man who breathes that air is made young again. My father told me.’
    ‘Truth,’ Felimid assured him. ‘And gold is thick in the river sand, so that you can wash it out in wicker baskets.
    I’ve seen a client-farmer’s daughter wed with a golden ring on her hand, like the daughter of a great lord.’
    ‘Eh, to think of it!’
    Murd lifted a crock of porridge from the hearth, where it had been cooking slowly all night. He shared that with Felimid and Regan, and they shared some bread, cheese and mead with him. The liquor especially put a glow in his old eyes.
    ‘It’s the king’s own Yule brew,’ Regan said. ‘You will never drink better.’
    ‘Don’t reckon I will. Here, I’ll give ye some mutton chops to be taking with ye.’
    ‘Doesn’t the king’s law say they are not your sheep, but his?’ Regan asked. ‘And that you mayn’t kill them for yourself?’
    ‘Now, don’t go making mischief,’ Felimid advised, tuning the harp. ‘We’re none of us Jutes. We needn’t care what their law allows or disallows. So long as we’re not caught, I mean!’
    ‘Oh, ye’re quite right,’ agreed Murd. ‘But the King’s law says too that if a sheep happens to die, well, I can have it. See?’
    ‘Mmm. How did this one happen to die, then?’
    Murd belched comfortably. ‘I bashed its head in.’ Felimid made music. However great or lowly, the house where he enjoyed hospitality was a house where he sang. This time it was a simple song. He made it up as he went.
     
    ‘See you the gaunt grey shadows
    Which move among the snows?
    They are the wolves a-hunting,
    As well the shepherd knows.
     
    ‘See where yon golden figure
    Goes gliding down the sky?
    That is the eagle waiting.
    When lambing time is nigh.
     
    ‘See you the lone shape lurking
    Beside the dry-stone wall?
    Now that is a man come thieving,
    And he is the worst if all.”
     
    ‘Heh!’ Murd ejaculated. ‘That’s wonderful! ‘Ud ye sing it again, sir’? I want to fix it in this old noggin. A real good song fer a shepherd, that is.’
    Felimid sang it again. He added another quatrain for luck.
     
    ‘Fire to frighten the wolf-pack,
    And dogs to thwart the bird,
    A strong ash crook to the prowler –
    And that’s how I keep my herd!’
     
    The old man chortled with joy. In royal halls, with time to display all the jewels of his art, Felimid had had less appreciative hearers. But just now time was running swiftly behind him.
    ‘What’s the distance to Thanet?’ he asked.
    Murd scratched in his beard dubiously with a gnarled finger. ‘Never been there, sir. But I do hear it’s twelve mile.’
    Then they had come about ten before the snow buried them. It would have buried their tracks as well, naturally . . . and maybe the hunt for them had not even begun yet. Oisc and his warriors would surely sleep very late this morning, and awaken groggy. It was all time. The more Felimid and Regan could extend their lead, the better.
    Regan had her straw-stuffed wooden shoes off and her feet at the fire. The warmth made her sigh with pleasure. She looked very pretty, Felimid thought. with her tangled crow-black hair and the ruddy fire-glow on her. The practical side of him noticed that she wore heavy trousers under her skirt. She was practical herself. and no mistake. She’d contrived a number of necessary things in a very short time after hearing that the King had condemned him. Belike she’d even have found a way to get him down-safely!—from his odd position above the wolf pit, if he hadn’t got out of that predicament himself. For the sake of his