我的美母教师 | 乡村精品合集 | 乡村活寡 | 乡村欲爱 | 乡村春潮 | 乡村花医 | 欲望乡村（未删） | 乡村艳福 | 乡村春事 | 人妻四部曲

快捷操作: 按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页 按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页 按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部! 如果本书没有阅读完，想下次继续接着阅读，可使用上方 "收藏到我的浏览器" 功能 和 "加入书签" 功能！

spat　as　they　gambled；　drank　and　stuffed　their　faces　with　greasy　stew　and　stale　bread；　laughing　loudly　at

ribald　jokes　and　groping　the　beleaguered　serving　girls　as　they　squeezed　from　table　to　table。　Calard　kept
one　hand　on　the　hilt　of　his　sword　as　he　pushed　his　way　towards　the　bar；　scanning　for　potential　threats。
Most　of　the　drinkers　had　the　look　of　outlaws；　brigands　and　vagabonds；　though　some　of　them　might
have　been　desperate　merchants　fallen　on　hard　times　or　fleeing　debtors。　Nor　were　they　all　of　low　birth；
many　were　knights；　though　few　of　them　displayed　their　colours　or　heraldry。　Most　of　these　were　outcasts
and　dispossessed　nobles；　Calard　judged；　knights　who　had　fled　to　Mousillon　in　dishonour　rather　than　face
justice。　Most　were　likely　murderers；　traitors　and　cowards；　and　Calard　fought　to　keep　the　disdain　off　his
face　as　he　moved　amongst　them。
He　bumped　into　one　of　these　knights　as　he　shouldered　his　way　to　the　bar。　The　nobleman　was　tall；
gaunt…featured　and　dressed　in　dark　colours；　and　he　had　his　hand　on　the　hilt　of　his　sword。　He　had　a
vicious　scar　across　his　throat；　and　his　eyes　were　cold。　Calard　held　the　man’s　gaze　for　a　moment；　before
pushing　past　him　and　signalling　the　squint…eyed　innkeeper　for　service。　An　ogre　stood　nearby；　easily　nine
feet　tall；　its　brutal　face　a　mess　of　scars。　It　had　a　bored　expression　on　its　face；　and　its　arms；　as　thick　as
tree　trunks；　were　folded　across　its　massive　chest。
‘Keeps　the　rowdier　ones　in　check；’　said　the　innkeeper。　He　wore　a　heavily　stained　apron　over　his
obese　gut。　‘What　are　you　wanting？’
‘A　room；’　said　Calard；　‘and　feed　for　my　horse。’　He　pushed　a　pair　of　coins　across　the　bar　and　they
disappeared　in　the　blink　of　an　eye。
‘One　of　the　girls　will　bring　you　food　and　drink；’　said　the　innkeep；　handing　over　a　room　key　before
turning　to　serve　another　patron。　Calard　grabbed　the　innkeeper　by　his　arm　and　dragged　him　back。
‘I’m　looking　for　someone；’　said　Calard　in　low　voice。　‘A　noble　by　the　name　of　Merovech。’
The　innkeeper　pulled　his　arm　away；　scowling。　‘You　ain't　from　around　here；　are　you？’　he　said。
‘You　know　him？’　said　Calard。
The　innkeeper　nodded。
‘Them’s　his　knights　back　there；’　he　said；　gesturing　through　the　crowd。　‘Bastards’ll　ruin　me；　drinking
me　dry　and　not　paying　a　copper；　but　what　can　I　do？’
Nodding　his　thanks；　Calard　found　a　secluded　table　in　a　dark　corner　and　sat　with　his　back　against　the
wall。　A　bowl　of　gristly　stew　was　brought　to　him　along　with　a　goblet　of　cheap　wine；　and　he　had　some
bread　and　water　sent　out　to　Chlod。　He　didn’t　touch　his　food；　and　made　only　a　pretence　of　drinking　his
wine；　eyes　locked　on　the　knights　that　the　innkeeper　had　identified。
There　were　six　of　them；　drinking　heavily；　and　their　table　was　piled　high　with　empty　dishes　and
goblets。　Calard　saw　that　one　of　their　number　was　the　cold…eyed　knight　he　had　bumped　into　at　the　bar；
though　he　sat　apart　from　the　others；　distancing　himself　from　their　drunken　excesses。　These　other　five　were
being　loud；　obnoxious　and　aggressive；　shouting　and　pounding　their　goblets　on　the　table　as　they　watched　a
puppet　show　under　way　upon　the　small　stage　at　the　back　of　the　inn。
Creepy…looking　marionettes　were　re…enacting　various　events　from　history；　and　Calard’s　attention　was
drawn　to　the　performance　as　something　caught　his　eye。　He　saw　a　puppet　knight　dressed　in　a　white
tabard；　and　his　eyes　narrowed。　The　puppet’s　heraldry　was　unmistakable：　a　black　fleur…de…lys　on　a　white
field。　The　knight’s　face　was　white；　as　was　his　hair；　and　he　wore　a　crown　of　rulership　upon　his　head。
‘The　duke　invited　all　the　nobles　in　Bretonnia　to　Mousillon；　to　celebrate　his　great　victory！’　screeched
the　voice　of　the　story’s　narrator　from　behind　the　puppeteers’　screen。　‘The　king　himself　came；　and　the
Duke　of　Mousillon　was　proclaimed　saviour　of　Bretonnia！’
A　cheer　erupted　from　the　watching　crowd　as　puppets　representing　the　dukes　of　Bretonnia　lifted　the
puppet　of　Duke　Merovech　high　into　the　air。
‘However；　the　king　was　jealous　of　our　beloved　duke’s　achievements；’　continued　the　narrator；　‘and

he　knew　that　Duke　Merovech　would　make　a　far　better　king　than　himself。　He　began　plotting　our　duke’s
downfall。’
The　crowd　booed　as　the　puppet　of　the　king；　carved　to　look　like　a　drunken　buffoon；　rubbed　its　hands
together　in　an　evil；　conspiratorial　manner。　Calard　frowned。　He　knew　this　tale；　but　its　telling　was　unlike　any
he　had　heard　before：　its　perspective　was　skewed；　its　heroes　and　villains　flipped。
The　true　tale　was　from　a　dark　period　in　the　history　of　Bretonnia；　hundreds　of　years　earlier；　and　it　told
the　story　of　the　last　Duke　of　Mousillon；　who　was；　by　all　reports；　a　butcher　and　murderer；　a　drinker　of
blood　and　an　eater　of　children。　However；　in　the　puppet　show　being　performed　here；　the　sadistic　duke
was　portrayed　as　a　living　saint；　while　the　king　and　his　loyal　dukes　were　little　more　than　jealous　inbreds；
conspiring　against　him。
The　crowd　cheered　as　the　Duke　of　Mousillon　uncovered　the　conspiracy　against　him；　and　thumped
their　tables　as　the　puppets　of　their　duke　and　the　king　drew　swords　against　one　another。　The　marionettes
duelled；　the　skilled　puppeteers　making　them　fight　with　surprising　believability；　and　the　inn　resounded　to
the　sound　of　swords　clashing。
Cheers　and　laughter　erupted　as　the　king’s　head　was　lopped　from　its　shoulders；　and　those　in　the　front
row　were　sprayed　with　pig’s　blood　pumped　up　through　the　puppet’s　severed　neck。　The　marionette　of　the
Duke　of　Mousillon　lifted　up　a　tiny　goblet　to　catch　the　rain　of　blood；　which　it　then　drank　down　in　one　gulp；
which　was　met　with　further　cheers。
The　curtain　fell；　and　the　narrator　continued。
‘The　traitor　king　was　dead；　but　the　jealous　dukes　turned　against　Mousillon。’
The　curtain　lifted　again；　showing　the　Duke　of　Mousillon　and　his　knights　battling　against　the　other
dukes。
‘Led　by　the　treacherous　Duke　of　Lyonesse；’　said　the　narrator；　eliciting　derisive　hisses　from　the
crowd；　‘they　besieged　Mousillon。　Yet　even　heavily　outnumbered；　our　lord　could　not　be　bested；　not　with
his　five　trusted　lieutenants　beside　him。　Finally；　the　Duke　of　Lyonesse　resorted　to　treachery。’
Boos　and　hisses　greeted　the　appearance　of　a　cloaked　and　hooded　marionette　that　reared　up　behind
the　Duke　of　Mousillon　and　stabbed　him　to　death。　The　deed　done；　the　puppet　threw　off　its　disguise；
revealing　its　identity　as　none　other　than　the　Duke　of　Lyonesse。　The　lights　dimmed　and　the　curtain　fell。
The　crowd　booed　loudly；　but　they　hushed　as　the　curtain　rose　one　more　time。　The　stage　was　unlit　and
bare　but　for　a　puppet　reclined　in　death；　wrapped　in　a　shroud。
‘But　before　he　died；　our　beloved　duke　swore　an　oath。　He　swore　that　he　would　return　from　beyond
the　grave　and　seek　vengeance！　He　swore　that　Mousillon　would　be　returned　to　its　former　glory；　and　that
the　rest　of　Bretonnia　would　pay　for　its　betrayal！’
The　death　shroud　was　suddenly　whisked　away　from　the　puppet…corpse　and　the　figure　of　the　Duke　of
Mousillon　leapt　up；　a　sword　held　in　each　hand。
‘Long　live　Duke　Merovech！’　screeched　the　narrator；　and　the　curtain　fell　for　the　last　time。
Calard　shook　his　head　as　the　crowd　cheered　and　banged　their　tables。　His　gaze　settled　on　the　knight
that　he　had　bumped　into　at　the　bar。
Perhaps　sensing　someone　watching　him；　the　knight　looked　up；　but　by　the　time　he　did；　Calard　had
already　gone。
VI
AN　HOUR　LATER；　the　knight　made　his　way　up　the　narrow　staircase　to　his　room。　He　unlocked　the　door；

which　opened　with　a　drawn…out　creak。　It　was　dark　within；　and　he　cursed。　He　had　left　a　lamp　burning　low
on　the　table　within；　but　a　draught　must　have　blown　it　out。　Leaving　the　door　ajar　so　that　he　could　see　by
the　light　in　the　hallway；　he　moved　towards　the　table。
The　door　clicked　shut　abruptly；　and　darkness　swallowed　him。　He　spun　around　on　his　heel；　reaching
for　his　blade。　It　was　half…drawn　when　the　tip　of　a　sword　touched　his　throat；　and　he　froze。
‘Sheathe　it；’　said　a　voice　from　the　darkness。　The　gaunt…featured　knight　scowled　but　did　as　he　was
bid。　The　shutters　of　a　lamp　were　opened；　and　the　knight　squinted　against　the　glare。
‘Sit；’　said　Calard。　He　forced　the　knight　back　with　the　point　of　his　sword；　making　him　sink　into　a
moth…eaten　chair。　To　his　credit；　the　dishonoured　knight　showed　no