The Witch’s Kiss Trilogy. Katharine Corr

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      ‘Jack? Jack! Where are you, lad?’

      Jack sighed. He had just got comfortable, lying on the sand in the shade of the cliffs, and now he was going to have to climb back up to the farm at the top. The whole plan had been to work fast so he could have a sleep before the rest of the day’s labour.

      ‘Jack! If I have to come down there …’

      There was no help for it.

      ‘Coming, father.’ He picked up the sacks of seaweed and carefully made his way up the steep track cut into the side of the cliff.

      ‘Ah, good.’ Edwin took the sacks from Jack’s back. ‘Rufus can spread this on the field, and we will have a fine harvest in the fall. Have you eaten?’

      ‘Yes, father.’

      ‘Then you can go and wash. Father Brendan is waiting in the house. I hope you’ve been practising your letters, and learning your history.’

      ‘But Ned and I were going to go hunting this morning. If I catch a couple of rabbits, mother will be able make that pie you enjoy so much.’

      For a moment Jack thought he was going to get away with it; he could see his father wavering.

      ‘Well …’ But Edwin shook his head. ‘No. Hunting later. Learning first.’

      ‘But why? None of my friends have to sit with Father Brendan and listen to him go on and on about—’ Jack stopped. His father had that look in his eye, the look that meant: If you don’t do what you are told, I will tell your mother, and then we will see. He sighed. ‘As you wish, father.’

      ‘You’re a good lad, Jack. I know there’s much you don’t understand as yet, but one day soon it will all become clear. Off with you now.’

      Jack hurried away. Recently, his father had often seemed to come out with odd references to the future, to some revelation that would answer all Jack’s questions. Given that Jack’s questions were mostly along the lines of ‘When will I be able to leave the village?’ he suspected sometimes that the ‘revelation’ was just a delaying tactic – like their insistence that he still needed lessons. Jack could not see the point of reading, or learning about politics. What he really wanted was to go to Helmswick, fight for the king and win his own land. He’d listened to the heroic tales as a child: Beowulf defeating the monster and gaining renown and treasure from his lord. That was what he dreamt about. That, and winning the hand of a beautiful maiden.

      Jack scowled and kicked at the rushes growing at the edge of the nearby stream. A cormorant squawked angrily and took off into the air. His dreams of glory were pointless; he was bound to end up a carpenter, just like his father. As for all the nonsense about a future revelation, maybe it was just a sign of old age. His parents were a good twenty years older than the parents of all his friends. An unlooked-for gift, his mother called him.

      The house came into view. It was a low, comfortable building, with a separate area for the animals, and even two separate sleeping chambers. Jack sometimes wondered how his father had been able to afford to build such a house. Edwin was a good carpenter, but he made simple furniture for the other villagers, not expensive items for the king. Maybe this was another of the mysteries that would one day become clear.

      Jack was just about to go into the house when he stopped, brought up short by the sight of a girl planting seeds in the garden of the house opposite.

      ‘Good day, Winifred.’

      A lot of the girls in the village liked Jack. He used to hear them as he walked around the narrow lanes, whispering about how strong and handsome he was, then he would wink at them and they would dissolve into giggles. He had to admit, he’d kissed quite a few of them too – when the elders weren’t watching. But Winifred … Jack was never sure whether she liked him or not. She was the niece of the thane, besides being the prettiest girl in the village. She was so beautiful that Jack’s brain seemed to seize up when he looked at her, all his usual wit and charm evaporating like rain on a summer’s day. Jack had hardly ever tried to speak to Winifred, let alone kiss her.

      ‘Good day, Jack.’ She smiled at him as she stood up, and Jack could feel the hot blood turning his face red. ‘Been on the beach, have you?’

      ‘Yes.’ Jack ran a hand through his blond hair and tried desperately to think of something else to say. ‘We needed seaweed for the field, so I thought … the beach …’

       Why? Why did I say that? Where else would I get seaweed? She’s going to think I’m an idiot.

      But Winifred just laughed, and put her hands on her hips, and looked Jack up and down. ‘You’ve grown very tall, Jack.’

      Jack stood up straighter.

      ‘Maybe a bit too tall.’

      Jack slouched again. ‘Well, I am eighteen now. I mean, I probably won’t grow any more.’ He paused for a moment, chewing on his bottom lip, before taking a deep breath. ‘Winifred, I was hoping—’

      ‘Jack! Father Brendan is waiting.’

      Jack could not believe it: his mother was leaning out of the window behind him. If Winifred had not been there, Jack would have sworn. As it was, he had to bite his tongue.

      ‘I have to go.’

      ‘Don’t worry, Jack. I will still be here later. Probably.’

      Jack went into the house and met his mother in the main room.

      ‘Why did you shout at me in front of СКАЧАТЬ