Читать книгу Trouble in the Glen - Maurice Walsh - Страница 10

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Glasses clinked at the cupboard where Lukey was whistling softly to himself. Gawain got to his feet, groped in the corner, put a knot of bog-pine on the fire, and, head down, watched the flames leap smokily. He was wondering what Lukey was going to say. These two friends of his were leading him on, and he would give them no help. Then Lukey stopped whistling and spoke ruminatively.

“That’s how things stand, is it? No, no! Things like yon do not stand still. They keep staggerin’ on, this way an’ that, but aye towards more trouble; and more trouble we do not want. Not in Glen Easan, where there’s room for us all: laird and crofter—and friendly men coming in among us. Ye would agree wi’ me there, I’d say?”

Keegan had finished talking for the time, and Gawain would not be drawn. Lukey, at the cupboard, whistled some more, and clinked a glass with a fingernail.

“Ay indeed!” he said remotely. “And we doin’ our best to keep things from our little lassie! But could we? Her road was closed, and that was plain to be seen, and she knew there was trouble, an’ that troubled her. Ay, did it! Iosa Chreesta! to keep trouble from her I’d burn the Tigh Mhor to the ground—but what good would that do?” He chuckled there. “And then, ye ken, a month ago, the wee lass brightened up wonderful. That was when she heard her knight-at-arms was on the way. ‘I have a Task for him,’ says she—”

Gawain sat down solidly. “What the blue blazes are you doing with that whisky?”

“Makin’ sure I’m gettin’ my share,” Lukey said. “Here she comes!”

Gawain felt for his glass, and took one mouthful. It was a round and pleasant whisky, and was already twisting little maggots of wisdom in his brain. Lukey sat on his hassock, and carefully scraped out his meerschaum. He addressed himself to the Major.

“Man dear, Major! do you mind the gran’ fairy stories the queen used be gettin’ from her knight across the water? She used be readin’ bits o’ them to me for a reward, and I was often wonderin’ if there was anything at all behind them?”

“Dam’ a thing,” said the Major, looking at the fire through his half-empty glass.

“Man, you’d never know!” half-mused Lukey. “And, anyway, a body, no’ named, will be expected to make up another story in the bygoin’—”

“Founded on fact, you would say?” added the Major.

“Will you two bohunks go to Hades?” suggested Gawain. He would take the war to them. “In a fortnight I’ll be out of here.”

“A fortnight?”

“Just. And I’m not going to waste it talking nonsense and drinking malt whisky. I am here to see Alsuin—”

“Well then! Well then!” said Lukey brightly.

“And in a fortnight I’ll be gone,” said Gawain firmly, “and I’ll not stop until I am five thousand miles away. Got that?”

“You’ll be missed,” said Lukey quietly.

“Thank you, Luke! And thank you for the whisky too. There’s wisdom in it.” He grinned. “Would you like some?”

“Whatever you say,” said Lukey cautiously.

“I’ll say it. This Sanin—what do you call him?”

“Sanin Cejador y Mengues,” Keegan told him.

“Is he married?”

“A widower.”

“A pity. Any family? A son?”

“No son.” Keegan hesitated strangely, and then said: “There is one daughter, I believe.”

“Ay! just the a’e daughter,” said Lukey carelessly. “What’s this her name is?”

“Iosabel, isn’t it?” said Keegan.

“No! Ay! that’s it,” said Lukey.

“Is she the lady who sings in the wood?” Gawain asked.

“Gosh!” cried Lukey in surprise, and added: “She could be.”

“I have often noticed,” said Gawain sententiously, “that a stubborn man can be got at through his womenfolk. A young woman given to sylvan melody will be as sentimental as a dying duck. Did you never try your wiles on her, Mr Carnoch?”

“Goad be here! that one!”

“What’s wrong with her?”

“She’s prood—”

“You don’t like her?”

“Like her! Like her! Why, man—” His voice had warmed, and then he stopped short.

“Well?”

“She’d cut my gizzard out, she would,” said Lukey tonelessly.

“Hope I’ll be there,” Gawain said. “But you try your wiles on her, brother.”

Gawain tossed off his drink and reached his glass to Lukey. “Make it punch this time, Mr Spider Carnoch. I’m for my bed.”

But no one went to bed, for an hour yet.