tw.togreenangeltower2-第34部分

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　　　　　　　〃But　Simon！　What　did　you　do？〃
　　　　　　　〃Well；　running　downhill　in　front　of　a　bull　seemed　fairly　stupid；　so　I　dropped　the　flowers　and　climbed　the　first　good…sized　tree　that　I　reached。　He　stopped　at　the　bottom…I　got　my　feet　up　out　of　the　way　Just　as　he　got　there…then　all　of　a　sudden　he　lowered　his　head；　and。。。　thump！〃　Simon　brought　his　fist　into　his　open　palm；　〃he　smacked　up　against　the　trunk。　The　whole　tree　shook　and　it　almost　knocked　me　off　the　branch　I　was　hanging　on；　until　I　got　my　legs　wrapped　around　good　and　tight。　I　pulled　myself　up　until　I　was　sitting　on　the　branch；　which　was　a　good　thing；　because　this　idiot　bull　began　butting　his　head　against　the　tree；　over　and　over　until　the　skin　began　to　peel　off　his　head　and　there　was　blood　running　down　his　face。〃
　　　　　　　〃That's　terrible。　He　must　have　been　mad；　poor　animal。〃
　　　　　　　〃Poor　animal！　1　like　that！〃　Simon's　voice　rose　in　mock　despair。　〃He　tries　to　kill　your　special　protector　and　all　you　can　say　about　him　is　'poor　animal。　〃
　　　　　　　Miriamele　smiled。　〃I'm　glad　he　didn't　kill　you。　What　happened？〃
〃Oh；　he　got　tired　at　last　and　went　away；〃　Simon　said　airily。　〃Walked　on　down　the　dell；　so　that　he　wasn't　between　me　and　the　fence　anymore。　Still；　as　I　was　running　up　the　slope；　I　kept　thinking　I　heard　him　ing　up　behind　me。〃
　　　　　　　〃Well；　you　had　a　close　call。〃　Unable　to　help　herself；　Miriamele　yawned；　Simon　made　a　face。　〃But　I'm　glad　you　didn't　slay　the　monster；〃　she　continued；　〃even　if　you　are　a　knight。　He　can't　help　being　mad。〃
　　　　　　　〃Slay　the　monster？　What；　with　my　bare　hands？〃　Simon　laughed；　but　sounded　pleased。　〃But　maybe　killing　him　would　have　been　the　kindest　thing　to　do。　He　certainly　seemed　past　saving。　That's　probably　why　whoever　lived　there　left　him　behind。〃
〃Or　he　may　have　gone　mad　because　they　left　him　behind；〃　Miriamele　said　slowly。　She　looked　at　Simon　and　saw　that　he　had　heard　something　odd　in　her　voice。　〃I'm　tired；　now。　Thank　you　for　the　bread。〃
　　　　　　　〃There's　one　thing　more。〃　He　reached　into　his　cloak　and　produced　a　small　green　apple。　〃The　only　one　within　walking　distance。〃
　　　　　　　Miriamele　stared　at　it　suspiciously　for　a　moment；　then　sniffed　it　before　taking　a　tentative　bite。　It　was　not　sweet；　but　its　tartness　was　very　pleasant。　She　ate　half；　then　handed　the　rest　to　Simon。
　　　　　　　〃It　was　good；〃　she　said。　〃Very　good。　But　I　still　can't　eat　much。〃
　　　　　　　Simon　happily　crunched　up　the　rest。　Miriamele　found　the　hollow　she　had　made　for　herself　in　the　straw　and　stretched　out。　〃I'm　going　to　sleep　a　little　more；　Simon。〃
　　　　　　　He　nodded。　He　was　looking　at　her　so　carefully；　so　thoroughly；　that　Miriamele　had　to　turn　away　and　pull　her　cloak　up　over　her　face。　She　was　not　strong　enough　to　support　such　attention；　not　just　now。

　　　　　　　She　awakened　late　in　the　afternoon。　Something　was　making　a　strange　noise…thump　and　swish；　thump　and　swish。　A　little　frightened　and　still　very　weak；　Miriamele　lay　unmoving　and　tried　to　decide　whether　it　might　be　someone　looking　for　them；　or　Simon's　bull；　or　something　entirely　different　and　possibly　worse。　At　last　she　nerved　herself　and　crawled　silently　across　the　loft；　trying　not　to　make　any　noise　as　she　moved　over　the　thin　carpet　of　straw。　When　she　reached　the　edge；　she　peered　over。
　　　　　　　Simon　was　on　the　ground　floor　of　the　barn　practicing　his　sword　strokes。　Despite　the　coolness　of　the　day；　he　had　taken　off　his　shirt；　sweat　gleamed　on　his　pale　skin。　She　watched　him　as　he　measured　a　distance　before　him；　then　lifted　his　sword　with　both　hands；　holding　it　perpendicular　to　the　floor　before　gradually　lowering　its　point。　His　freckled　shoulders　tensed。　Thump…he　took　a　step　forward。　Thump；　thump…he　pivoted　to　the　side；　moving　around　the　almost　stationary　sword　as　though　he　held　someone　else's　blade　trapped　against　it。　His　face　was　earnest　as　a　child's；　and　the　tip　of　his　tongue　protruded　pinkly　from　his　mouth　as　he　gripped　it　between　his　teeth　in　solemn　concentration。　Miriamele　suppressed　a　giggle；　but　she　could　not　help　noticing　how　his　skin　slid　over　his　lean　muscles；　how　the　fanlike　shapes　of　his　shoulder　blades　and　the　knobs　of　his　backbone　pushed　against　the　milky　skin。　He　stopped；　the　sword　again　held　motionless　before　him。　A　drop　of　sweat　slid　from　his　nose　and　disappeared　into　his　reddish　beard。　She　suddenly　wanted　very　much　for　him　to　hold　her　again；　but　despite　her　desire；　the　thought　of　it　made　her　stomach　clench　in　pain。　There　was　so　much　that　he　did　not　know。
　　　　　　　She　pushed　herself　back　from　the　edge　of　the　loft　as　quietly　as　she　could；　retreating　to　her　hollow　in　the　straw。　She　tried　to　fall　into　sleep　once　more；　but　could　not。　For　a　long　time　she　lay　on　her　back；　staring　up　at　the　shadows　between　the　rafters　as　she　listened　to　the　tread　of　his　feet；　the　hiss　of　the　blade　sliding　through　the　air；　and　the　muffled　percussion　of　his　breath。

　　　　　　　Just　before　sunset　Simon　went　down　to　look　at　the　house　again。　He　came　back　and　reported　that　it　was　indeed　empty；　although　he　had　seen　what　looked　like　fresh　bootprints　in　the　mud。　But　there　was　no　other　sign　of　anyone　about；　and　Simon　decided　that　the　tracks　most　likely　belonged　to　another　harmless　wanderer　like　the　old　drunkard　Heanwig；　so　they　gathered　up　their　belongings　and　moved　down。　At　first　Miriamele　was　so　light…headed　that　she　had　to　lean　on　Simon　to　keep　from　falling；　but　after　a　few　dozen　steps　she　felt　strong　enough　to　walk　unaided；　although　she　was　careful　to　keep　a　good　grip　on　his　arm。　He　went　very　slowly；　showing　her　where　the　track　was　slippery　with　mud。
　　　　　　　The　cottage　appeared　to　have　been　deserted　for　some　time；　and　there　were；　as　Simon　had　pointed　out；　some　holes　in　the　thatching；　but　the　barn　had　been　even　draftier；　and　the　cottage　at　least　had　a　fireplace。　As　Simon　carried　in　some　split　timbers　he　had　found　stacked　against　the　wall　outside　and　struggled　to　get　a　fire　started；　Miriamele　huddled　in　her　cloak　and　looked　around　at　their　home　for　the　night。
Whoever　had　lived　here　had　left　few　reminders　of　their　residence；　so　she　guessed　that　the　circumstances　which　had　driven　the　owners　away　had　not　e　on　suddenly。　The　only　piece　of　furniture　that　remained　was　a　stool　with　a　splintered　leg　squatting　off…kilter　beside　the　hearth。　A　single　bowl　lay　shattered　on　the　stone　beside　it；　every　piece　still　in　the　spot　where　it　had　tumbled　to　a　halt；　as　if　the　bowl　had　fallen　only　moments　before。　The　hard　clay　of　the　floor　was　covered　with　rushes　which　had　gone　damp　and　brown。　The　only　signs　of　recent　life　in　the　room　were　the　innumerable　cobwebs　hanging　in　the　thatches　or　stretching　in　the　corners；　but　even　these　looked　threadbare　and　forlorn；　as　if　it　had　not　been　a　good　season　even　for　spiders。
　　　　　　　〃There。〃　Simon　stood　up。　〃That's　got　it。　I'm　going　to　fetch　down　the　horses。〃
While　he　was　gone；　Miriamele　sat　before　the　fire　and　hunted　through　the　saddlebags　for　food。　For　the　first　time　in　two　days；　she　was　hungry。　She　wished　the　house's　owners　had　left　their　stew　pot…the　hook　hung　naked　over　the　growing　fire…but　since　it　was　gone　she　would　make　do　with　what　she　had。　She　pushed　a　couple　of　stones　into　the　fire　to　heat；　then　rooted　out　the　few　remaining　carrots　and　an　onion。　When　the　stones　were　hot　enough；　she　would　make　some　soup。
Miriamele　scanned　the　ceiling　critically；　then　unrolled　her　bedroll　in　a　spot　that　looked　like　it　was　far　enough　from　the　nearest　hole　to　stay　dry　in　case　the　rains　returned。　After　a　moment's　thought　she　unrolled　Simon's　nearby。　She　left　what　she　considered　to　be　a　safe　distance　between　them；　but　his　bedroll　was　still　closer　than　she　would　have　preferred　had　there　not　been　a　leaky　roof　to　deal　with。　When　all　was　arranged；　she　found　her　knife　in　the　saddlebag　and　got　to　work　on　the　vegetables。
〃It's　blowing　hard　now；〃　Simon　said　as　he　came　back　in。　His　hair　was　disarranged；　standing　out　in　strange　tufts；　but　his　cheeks　were　red　and　his　smile　was　wide。　〃It　will　be　a　good　night　to　be　near　a　fire。〃
〃I'm　glad　we　moved　down　here；〃　she　said。　〃I　feel　much　better　tonight。　I　think　I'll　be　able　to　ride　tomorrow。〃
　　　　　　　〃If　you're　ready。〃　As　he　walked　past　her　to　the　fireplace；　he　put　his　hand　on　her　shoulder　for　a　moment；　then　trailed　it　gently　across　her　hair。　Miriamele　said　nothing；　but　went　on　chopping　the　carrots　into　a　clay　bowl。