MALCOLM stood with his back to the castle， pacing
uneasily and keeping an eye on the road where it curved
up from the village~f Knaresborough.
The castle rose :;up behind him， bleak and broken， a
snaggled-toothed retie etched against the leaden sky of a
wet April dawn. Its grim dungeons were padlocked now
behind heavy wooden doors， its history reduced to a line
or two in the British tourist guides. The fortress stood
silent， harmless， a brooding shadow of terror dimly
remembered across the boundaries of time. But to Mal-
colm， standing there alone in the fading darkness， with
mist rising wet and cold ~against his face， the ghosts of
Knaresborough Castle were strangely alive. Not tliat he
was seeing things---there were no ghostly images mount-
hag the battlements， no mut
chains in his mind s eye， noth
just a feeling he had， a sense
ken walls and empty， staring
peering at him out of the past.
~And so he turned to face
sptrlts
ng as gr
)f myste
window，，
the present， keeping an eye
|
内容加载中，请稍后...
商品评论（0条）