Prince of Hazel and Oak. John Lenahan
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Название: Prince of Hazel and Oak
Автор: John Lenahan
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Детская проза
isbn: 9780007425600
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‘So a crazy wolf accidentally wolfs down a Pooka hare. That sounds plausible to me.’
‘But it is not,’ Mom said, looking perturbed. ‘Pookas have an almost telepathic control over animals, and the Pookas that change into small creatures always change back when threatened.’
‘So what’s the answer?’
‘I do not know, my son. I do know that no Pooka has come to Castle Duir since your father took the throne and you said you were attacked by boar in the summer.’
‘So you think there is something wrong in Pookaville?’
Mom gave me her quizzical look, ‘How do you come up with these words?’
The Land’s fall colour spectacular continued throughout the day. Brendan, it turned out, was quite the equestrian. It made me regret letting him ride Cloud. Don’t get me wrong, Acorn is a great horse and the best mount a man can have when the chips are down, but Cloud is a much easier ride, like having power steering in a car.
Our second night’s camp was uneventful. I kept an eye on Brendan at dinner and followed him when he left early. As he approached my tent I said, ‘That would be my tent.’
‘Oh,’ he said, ‘I thought it was for guests.’
‘Yeah, right. It’s mine and if you steal it again, I’m going to tell my mother.’
‘Oh,’ Brendan said, ‘I guess I’ll find somewhere else.’
Sometimes it’s handy having a warrior queen for a mother.
Acorn got jittery when we crossed the border into the Hazellands but it wasn’t as bad as the last time. Mom rode up next to me and spoke into my horse’s ear and settled him down. I think another reason why Acorn calmed down was because the Hazellands were starting to look a lot better. The first time I was here it seemed as if the life had been sucked out of it – now it felt as if the place was on the mend. Like fresh new skin growing on a bad wound. Fallen trees had been cut for wood and charred branches had been cleared away. As we climbed a small hill I remembered where we were. The top of the rise was the spot where Araf had first laid eyes on the destruction of the Field – the Imp garden where Araf had lost so many kinsmen. The last time he had seen the Field it had been trashed so badly he nearly fell out of his saddle. This time he crested the hill and said, ‘Will you look at that.’
It is so rare for Araf to spontaneously make any noise that it always startles me when he does. I pulled up next to him and saw what he saw. What was once a scorched and blackened patch of land had been cleared and tilled. A team of Imps were planting trees and tending gardens. Araf looked on like a dog sighting a bird in a bush.
‘Master Spideog!’ I called.
Spideog rode next to us, taking in the wide-eyed Araf and the Field.
‘Master Spideog,’ I said, ‘I wonder if Prince Araf might be able to be released from his bodyguard duties for a few hours.’
Araf looked at me like a boy getting permission from his mother to go swimming on a hot day.
‘I think we can spare his stick for the rest of the afternoon,’ Spideog said. ‘Prince Araf, you are relieved.’
A rare ear-to-ear smile erupted on the Imp’s face as he reached for the whistle hanging around his neck. He simultaneously kicked his mount into a gallop and blew. All of the Imps in the distance immediately stopped what they were doing and then began to cheer as they saw their prince speeding towards them. We watched as a mob of Imps practically dragged him from his horse. How anybody can get excited about spending an afternoon covered in dirt is beyond me but I knew Araf was now as happy as a pig in muck.
As we got closer to the outbuildings it became obvious how much work had been done. All of the rubble had been cleared away or stacked for later repair. Several of the smaller buildings had been rebuilt and then there was the landscaping. Those Imp guys sure can plant stuff. Hedges, young trees and flowerbeds were everywhere.
As we approached what looked like a guard house, Spideog kicked his horse and sped ahead. Just before he cleared the building, he notched an arrow in his bow and performed a magnificent full speed dismount. He hit the ground running using his horse for cover, then pulled his bow to full length and let his mount go on. He stood stock still, menacingly aiming a deadly arrow at something or someone that I couldn’t see. I drew my sword and looked to Mom but she seemed more annoyed than concerned. She kicked her horse into a canter and I followed. Mom casually went behind Spideog – I on the other hand peeked around the building. Standing there with a crossbow pointed directly at Spideog’s head was Master Dahy.
‘Boys,’ Mom said in a reproachful tone.
‘Tell this old man to drop his weapon. His clumsy reconnaissance has been exposed,’ Spideog said.
‘First of all,’ Dahy replied, ‘I am younger than you.’
‘In age maybe, but not in spirit.’
‘Boys,’ Mom said again. This time she sounded impatient.
‘Secondly,’ Dahy continued, ignoring the interruption, ‘I have a Brownie crossbow aimed at your head. I’ll drop you before you can even let go of that string.’
‘Would you like to put that to the test, Old Man?’
Mom dismounted and walked between the two Masters. No matter how much they wanted to kill each other (and it sure looked like they did) their duty kicked in as soon as the Queen of Duir stepped into the line of fire. They immediately lowered their weapons.
‘Now that is better,’ Mom said in an overly calm tone. ‘I’m going to return to my mount. I shall assume you two will not again raise your weapons to each other after I leave.’ When she got no response, she said, ‘Master Spideog?’
‘Yes, my lady,’ Spideog said, replacing his arrow in his quiver.
‘Master Dahy?’
‘Of course, Lady Deirdre,’ Dahy replied, removing the bolt from his crossbow.
I don’t know how many years those two had between them, probably thousands, but at that moment they sounded like eight-year-olds.
‘Master Spideog, you are with me,’ Mom commanded. ‘Master Dahy, I have royal bodyguard duty for you. He is over there hiding behind that wall – I think you may have met.’
I stuck my nose around the building and waved.
‘Conor!’ Dahy said as he approached and placed his arms on my shoulders. ‘When did you get back?’
‘About a week ago; I would have thought someone would have told you.’
‘News is slow around here. I don’t have an emain slate. The Leprechaun who made them was killed when Cialtie СКАЧАТЬ