Уильям Голдман - The Princess Bride

"Disaster. They had no fear of me at all. I was so flustered I did everything wrong, and soon they got away. I was, do I have to add, disheartened. Roberts called me to his cabin. I slunk in like a whipped boy. 'Buck up,' he told me, and then he closed the door and we were quite alone. 'What I am about to tell you I have never said before and you must guard it closely.' I of course said I would. 'I am not the Dread Pirate Roberts,' he said, 'my name is Ryan. I inherited this ship from the previous Dread Pirate Roberts just as you will inherit it from me. The man I inherited from was not the real Dread Pirate Roberts either; his name was Cummberbund. The real original Dread Pirate Roberts has been retired fifteen years and has been living like a king in Patagonia.' I confessed my confusion. 'It's really very simple,' Ryan explained. 'After several years, the original Roberts was so rich he wanted to retire. Clooney was his friend and first mate, so he gave the ship to Clooney, who had an identical experience to yours: the first ship he attempted to board nearly blew him out of the water. So Roberts, realizing the name was the thing that inspired the necessary fear, sailed the Revenge to port, changed crews entirely, and Clooney told everyone he was the Dread Pirate Roberts, and who was to know he was not? When Clooney retired rich, he passed the name to Cummberbund, Cummberbund to me, and I, Felix Raymond Ryan, of Boodle, outside Liverpool, now dub thee, Westley, the Dread Pirate Roberts. All we need is to land, take on some new young pirates. I will sail along for a few days as Ryan, your first mate, and will tell everyone about my years with you, the Dread Pirate Roberts. Then you will let me off when they are all believers, and the waters of the world are yours.'" Westley smiled at Buttercup. "So now you know. And you should also realize why it is foolish to be afraid."

"But I am afraid."

"It will all be happy at the end. Consider: a little over three years ago, you were a milkmaid and I was a farm boy. Now you are almost a queen and I rule uncontested on the water. Surely, such individuals were never intended to die in a Fire Swamp."

"How can you be sure?"

"Well, because we're together, hand in hand, in love."

"Oh yes," Buttercup said. "I keep forgetting that."

Both her words and her tone were a trifle standoffish, something Westley surely would have noticed had not a R.O.U.S. attacked him from the tree branch, sinking its giant teeth into his unprotected shoulder, forcing him to earth in a very unexpected spurt of blood. The other two that had been following launched their attack then too, ignoring Buttercup, driving forward with all their hungry strength to Westley's bleeding shoulder.

(Any discussion of the R.O.U.S.—Rodents of Unusual Size—must begin with the South American capybara, which has been known to reach a weight of 150 pounds. They are nothing but water hogs, however, and present very little danger. The largest pure rat is probably the Tasmanian, which has actually been weighed at one hundred pounds. But they have little agility, tending to sloth when they reach full growth, and most Tasmanian herdsmen have learned with ease to avoid them. The Fire Swamp R.O.U.S. were a pure rat strain, weighed usually eighty pounds, and had the speed of wolfhounds. They were also carnivorous, and capable of frenzy.)

The rats struggled with each other to reach Westley's wound. Their enormous front teeth tore at the unprotected flesh of his left shoulder, and he had no idea if Buttercup was already half devoured; he only knew that if he didn't do something desperate right then and right there she soon would be.

So he intentionally rolled his body into a spurt of flame.

His clothes began to burn—that he expected—but, more important, the rats shied away from the heat and the flames for just an instant, but that was enough for him to reach and throw his long knife into the heart of the nearest beast.

The other two turned instantly on their own kind and began eating it while it was still screaming.

Westley had his sword by then, and with two quick thrusts, the trio of rats was disposed of. "Hurry!" he shouted to Buttercup, who stood frozen where she had been when the first rat landed. "Bandages, bandages," Westley cried. "Make me some bandages or we die," and, with that, he rolled onto the ground, tore off his burning clothes and set to work caking mud onto the deep wound in his shoulder. "They're like sharks, blood creatures; it's blood they thrive on." He smeared more and more mud into his wound. "We must stop my bleeding and we must cover the wound so they do not smell it. If they don't smell the blood, we'll survive. If they do, we're for it, so help me, please. " Buttercup ripped her clothes into patches and ties, and they worked at the wound, caking the blood with mud from the floor of the Fire Swamp, then bandaging and rebandaging over it.

"We'll know soon enough," Westley said, because two more rats were watching them. Westley stood, sword in hand. "If they charge, they smell it," he whispered.

The giant rats stood watching.

"Come," Westley whispered.

Two more giant rats joined the first pair.

Without warning, Westley's sword flashed, and the nearest rat was bleeding. The other three contented themselves with that for a while.

Westley took Buttercup's hand and again they started to move.

"How bad are you?" she said.

"I am in something close to agony but we can talk about that later. Hurry now." They hurried. They had been in the Fire Swamp for one hour, and it turned out to be the easiest one they had of the six it took to cross it. But they crossed it. Alive and together. Hand very much in hand.

It was nearly dusk when they at last saw the great ship Revenge far out in the deepest part of the bay. Westley, still within the confines of the Fire Swamp, sank, beaten, to his knees.

For between him and his ship were more than a few inconveniences. From the north sailed in half the great Armada. From the south now, the other half. A hundred mounted horsemen, armored and armed. In front of them the Count. And out alone in front of all, the four whites with the Prince astride the leader. Westley stood. "We took too long in crossing. The fault is mine."

"I accept your surrender," the Prince said.

Westley held Buttercup's hand. "No one is surrendering," he said.

"You're acting silly now," the Prince replied. "I credit you with bravery. Don't make yourself a fool."

"What is so foolish about winning?" Westley wanted to know. "It's my opinion that in order to capture us, you will have to come into the Fire Swamp. We have spent many hours here now; we know where the Snow Sand waits. I doubt that you or your men will be any too anxious to follow us in here. And by morning we will have slipped away."

"I doubt that somehow," said the Prince, and he gestured out to sea. Half the Armada had begun to give chase to the great ship Revenge. And the Revenge, alone, was sailing, as it had to do, away. "Surrender," the Prince said.

" It will not happen. "

"SURRENDER!" the Prince shouted.

"DEATH FIRST!" Westley roared.

"...will you promise not to hurt him...?" Buttercup whispered.

"What was that?" the Prince said. "What was that?" Westley said.

Buttercup took a step forward and said, "If we surrender, freely and without struggle, if life returns to what it was one dusk ago, will you swear not to hurt this man?"

Prince Humperdinck raised his right hand: "I swear on the grave of my soon-to-be-dead father and the soul of my already-dead mother that I shall not hurt this man, and if I do, may I never hunt again though I live a thousand years."

Buttercup turned to Westley. "There," she said. "You can't ask for more than that, and that is the truth."