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they would bring back something. Even a squirrel or a crow would be welcome. |
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Simon laughed softly. Beorn had been in a little while ago to offer him a nice, plump rat. He had refused, but only after a moment's thought. Simon's shoulders shook as he recalled the troubled frown on the ex-fisherman's face. |
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"I should have skinned it," Beorn had said, his voice replete with self-accusation. "You would have thought it was a hare and eaten it then." |
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Whatever Alinor had threatened them with had a remarkable effect. Simon's laughter stopped abruptly, and he rose to his feet, his head nearly touching the low thatched roof. A hubbub of voices indicated something unusual, but not danger; there were no cries of alarm. Simon licked his lips. Mayhap a deer had been brought down. A single stride brought him to the doorway. |
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How strong the demands of the stomach are was clear when Simon's first reaction was disappointment. Ian was bringing a prisoner, not food. The disappointment, however, was brief. Simon's eyes widened as he took in the clothing and then the features of the young manlittle more than a boy, reallywhom Ian was hurrying along. A variety of modes of action flashed through his mind. |
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The pure-blooded Welsh had their own code of behavior, owing little to Norman or Saxon ideas of honor. Moreover their Christianity was, to say the least, different. Simon knew enough only to know he did not understand their form of "honor" but he was not such a fool as to believe, as some did, that they had none. Often they were called sly, sneaking creatures, little better than beasts, but Simon knew better than that also. Nor did he make the mistake of scorning their way of fighting; he had seen its effect too often. One thing was the same, however. The Welsh were bound by blood ties, often more firmly than Norman or En- |
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