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He stared at me, and he did not laugh. "It is a beginning," he said, "to want
much. If one is to be, he should try to be the best." His expression changed.
"To be the greatest, you must become better than I."
"Only you could teach me that," I said, "for cannot the teacher always teach
more than he knows?"
"Ah? It is good, that." He turned his eyes to the old man. "You have eaten?
No? Then join me. I have more than enough for I knew I would have guests at
the fire."
He turned to me. "We will need wood."
I turned at once and went looking and he stood watching me, his strange eyes
following my every movement. I went up to the fence to go through it to the
other side.
"Jump!" he said suddenly, and I did. I leaped the fence, and sensing it was
some kind of a test, I jumped it again.
Then I went through the fence and gathered wood and returned to the fire.Kory
talked to the old man of other days and times. Finally, he said:
"Why do you wish to fight? Is it that you wish to kill someone?"
"No. But I saw my father die, and he was a fine swordsman. I would be better,
and when they come to kill me, I would fight the best of all. Even if they
kill me, I would wish to leave my mark upon them. There was one man among my
father's killers who was best of all. I would be better."
After pausing I said, "A man's destiny is a man's destiny. I would not look
for him, but I think he looks for me. And when he finds me I would not wish
him disappointed in the way I hold a blade."
"Hah!"Kory ate, and then looked at me again. "Your father, then ... he taught
you something?"
"Much. But he was a man of peace. He taught me to fight as a gentleman
fights, and so would I, against gentlemen, but there will be others."
"Aye! There are always the others," said the old man.
"Yes."Kory looked at the old man. "I will teach him." Again he turned to me.
"It will not be easy. It will be work until your muscles cry out in pain, and
work again until the pain is all gone from them. It cannot be done in a month,
or even a year, but I will teach you all I know."
"And that is more than any other man knows," the old man said. "Good. You
will find him a good lad."
"Yes,"Kory said quietly, "I know him. He will walk a bloody trail in the
years before him, but the blood that is spilled needs spilling. Today we eat,
tonight we sleep, and tomorrow ... we work!"
How swiftly passed the months! How soon came the end of the year! Up and down
the lanes ofEngland we traveled, and over the border and intoScotland . We
camped beside Hadrian's Wall and later by the shores ofLochLomond . We went
down intoYorkshire and we camped in lonely places. We sharpened knives,
scissors, and all manner of blades, we didtinsmithing . We shod horses and we
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ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
peddled cloth, thread, and needles. And ever and always, we fenced.
By dawn light and campfire, in clearings in the forest or on the lonely
moors, in deserted bars and wherever we might find a place, we fenced. Always
we sought seclusion, for gypsies or vagabonds who had skill with weapons were
ill-liked. Also,Kory must keep himself from sight. It would be a hanging for
him, if he were caught.
I was in the hands of a master. My father had been skilled, butKory was a
marvel, no less. At night we read by the campfire, or talked of what we had
earlier read, or of our experiences during the day. SometimesKory would join
in. Usually he simply listened, smiling infrequently.
The old man was called ThomasBransbee . What his true name was, I do not
know, yet as we traveled, I picked up a few things about him. He had gone to
the best of schools, had held some official position at one time, and his
family had suffered because of it. I guessed that he had been involved, or was
suspected of being involved, with one of the numerous factions that had
supported the claimants to the throne after the death of Henry VIII.
Sometimes we parted fromKory for the day, even for several days, but then he
would appear again. As my skill sharpened, so did his, for the constant
fencing was renewing his old talents.
"It is a wrong name we go by," he said one day. "They call us gypsies because
they believed we came fromEgypt . It is not so. We were a wandering tribe
fromIndia who left there long, long ago. Our words resemble those of the
Hindu: some of our songs are the same, and customs."
He was a wise man and had traveled much. During the periods when we stopped
for rest or when I sometimes rode with him on his cart, or walked beside him
to save the horses, he talked of his wanderings all over Europe andAsia . He
had known many men of importance, serving them in various capacities, or
simply traveling with them. His own tribe of gypsies had been largely
destroyed by war and plague, yet he was known to other bands, and welcome
everywhere.
We collected herbs at the roadside. There were many, often thought of as
weeds by the unknowing. It was possible to bundle these into small bales or
collect the seeds and sell them at various shops in the villages or to doctors
who made their own medicines from them.
I was gaining education in much else, too, forKory told me of the tricks and
artifices used by thieves and pickpockets, swindlers and cardsharps. It was an
education in the ways of the streets. Little did I know then how much I was
soon to need it.
Wanderers along the highroads were always in danger from local thugs who felt
secure in attacking or robbing those of us who were considered vagabonds
ourselves, having no protection from the law ... when there was any.
Wayfarers usually banded together, that they might protect one another. At
the time when trouble came to us, there were three carts traveling
together Bransbee,Kory , and two gypsy brothers who were pugilists, often
boxing at the county fairs.
They were good boxers both, and better than average at wrestling as well.
Frequently they arranged a match or two with strong boys from the country
towns, sometimes whining, sometimes losing, whichever might be the most [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]