November
By Xanthe
The mist rising from the lake partially obscured the rider as he urged his stallion on. The dry, autumnal leaves crunched under the animal's hooves, and a light dew of perspiration bathed both horse and rider as they galloped. The horse was a bay stallion, his muscles rippling beneath a shining coat as his long, sturdy legs ate up the ground, his powerful flanks heaving with the exertion. The rider resembled his horse - long legs, taut muscles under tanned flesh, a wide brow and dark, intense eyes. There was a fusion of flesh, animal and human, as the rider and horse became one, moving with perfect synchronized precision across the valley floor, unaware that they were being watched.
The watcher gazed, transfixed by the sight of the horse and man, so perfectly attuned to each other, the man barely needing the reins to guide the animal, the two so completely bonded that it was hard to know where the man stopped and the horse began. There was an intensity to their movement that made it seem almost like a dance. Finally, the gallop slowed, and the mood was broken. The man sat back in his saddle and glanced skyward, then gave a shrill whistle. A few seconds later a hawk descended, swooping low, and took her place on the man's outstretched wrist. He paused for a moment, talking softly to the bird, crooning to her.
From his vantage point on the hill, the watcher hugged his arms around his knees to keep warm as he drank in the sight on the valley floor beneath him. The rider was dressed all in black - soft hide trousers, a thick shirt, shiny leather boots that reached to his knees - even black leather wrist bindings to protect his arms from the hawk's sharp claws. Suddenly, the rider looked up, and the watcher's breath caught in his throat; the man's eyes were as black as his clothing - and full of sorrow.
The hawk flew up into the air again, and the man pressed the horse into a slow canter across the valley. He built up speed, then circled around, and, as if on a whim, directed the horse towards the rolling hills that bounded the valley, urging the animal in the ascent. The watcher scrambled back in alarm, not wishing to be seen, but it was too late - suddenly both horse and man were upon him, and he ran from the undergrowth, cursing his luck. The rider pulled up, fast and hard, to avoid crashing into the watcher, and they both stared at each other for a moment. The watcher could smell the horse's sweat, and could hear the man panting as he reined the animal in, and calmed him, patting his heaving flanks and whispering soothing words.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cause offense." The watcher raised his hands high in a gesture of apology.
"Who are you? What are you doing here?" The rider demanded in a low growl.
"My name is Fox. I was just traveling through. I slept rough in the undergrowth last night. Please - I mean no harm." Fox spoke quickly, hoping desperately to avoid a repeat of yesterday's debacle, which had ended so painfully.
"You slept rough? Without a shirt? In November?" The man in black asked, incredulously.
"My shirt and I were parted from each other in unfortunate circumstances yesterday." Fox grinned, working his charm, which was all that he had left in the world, apart from his name.
"Hmmm." The rider looked him up and down, and Fox flushed under the scrutiny. "What brings you to my lands?" The man in black asked finally.
"Your lands?" Fox cursed silently, under his breath. "I'm sorry, Sir Walter. I had no idea." He gave a low bow, and then gasped in pain as he felt a finger trace a line down his bare back.
"And who flogged you so recently, and why?" The lord asked, his voice cool, and hard. Fox straightened.
"I was flogged by your seneschal yesterday, my lord," he answered in quick, flat tones. "I believe I made the mistake of asking if I could sleep in one of your barns or outhouses. He took me for a beggar, stripped me of my shirt, and gave me twenty lashes. Then he sent me on my way. I walked as fast as I could, but I was tired, cold, and hungry, and my lordship's lands are vast. I'm sorry that I didn't reach their boundary by this morning, and that my presence here thus offends you." He bowed his head, hoping that a suitable show of contrition would ward off any further punishment.
"My seneschal flogged you for seeking shelter? Are you certain?" The nobleman asked, his wide forehead creased by a concerned frown.
"Yes, my Lord. It's not an event I think I'll forget in a hurry. The details are remarkably clear to me - reminded of them as I am, every time I move my shoulders." Fox's hazel eyes held a glimmer of rueful humor. The nobleman grunted, and moved his horse away a step or two, looking down on the man who stood before him, half-naked in the cool November air. Fox wore a pair of old, tan, soft hide pants, and scuffed, weathered boots. He knew that with his welted back, and shabby clothing, there was no reason why the nobleman should show him any kindness.
"You were not offered shelter? Food, or drink?" The nobleman asked. Fox wondered why he was so confused by the behavior of his own seneschal - who was surely acting on his master's orders.
"No, my lord. I didn't ask for food or drink. I do not like to be taken for a beggar." The younger man straightened, wincing slightly as the movement hurt his back. "Although if it had been offered, I'm sure I would have taken it gratefully enough." He added with a smile.
"Your voice and manner make it clear you're no common beggar, certainly, if beggar you are." The nobleman ran his hand down the stallion's neck, and Fox noticed how wide and flat the man's fingers were. "If you have spoken true, then I'm sorry that you were treated in this manner on my land, and I cannot allow you to continue your journey in this way. You'll freeze to death." On an impulse, the big man tugged his own shirt over his head, and handed it to the astonished Fox.
Take it." The big man said insistently, thrusting it into Fox's hand.
迅雷狗一狗小说提供外语教材小说书籍《November（英文完结）作者：Xanthe TXT》下载,txt电子书籍迅雷下载！
