"Roberta Gellis - Bull God" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gellis Roberta)

So, common as they were, these folkwere of account, Ariadne thought, at least in sufficient numbers.
That was important to remember, but she became aware of the quickened pace of the singing around
her. She was being urged to hurry, and realized that the torches were paling to nothing; the sky was much
lighter. Fortunately she didn't need to be at the shrine until the sun topped Gypsades Hill itself and that
would be some time after it cleared the lowest horizon.

Still, it was a near thing. The light was actually glinting off the gilded vine leaves of Dionysus' crown when
Ariadne reached the altar and swung around to face those who followed her, seeing with some relief, that
it was indeed mostly those of Knossos who filled the small courtyard. Her father had joined her mother at
the foot of the stairs in the palace and had walked with them. Now he came forward and the singers
burst out again into an invocation. When the voices died, King Minos kissed Ariadne's forehead, and
prayed aloud, formally renouncing into the hands of the god Dionysus his rights as king and father over
her as a daughter. Again the chorus rose, and during the singing, from out of a door to the left of the large
painting behind the altar, came two rather elderly priests and two priestesses.

A new hymn rose in the air. Ariadne joined in this one, which praised the god and begged him to show
his favor and bless his priestess and her land with his virility. The priestesses carried a brightly polished
scrying bowl; the priests a large rhyton. Her father now backed away. The priestess held out the scrying
bowl; Ariadne took it and, speaking the arcane words she had been taught, turned to the one of the
priests, who poured a dark red wine into the bowl. When it was full to within a fingerwidth of the top,
Ariadne knelt down—with considerable care not to spill the wine—and set the bowl into a hollow at the
foot of the altar.

The sun was now well up into the sky and its light struck the highly polished rim and the dark surface of
the wine, rippled by the slight unsteadiness of Ariadne's grip when she set down the bowl. Glare and
glitter flashed back into Ariadne's eyes. The chorus was quiet now and Ariadne alone raised her voice.



A very great distance away, across a sea and a range of mountains, in a gleaming marble city called
Olympus, Dionysus lifted his head from his pillow and cocked it. Someone was Calling him. He sat up
and looked around. The large room was empty and silent, but the Call came again, clear and sweet,
inside his head. Smiling, for he was one of the youngest among the great mages and he still took a mildly
amused pleasure in having worshipers who believed him a god, he hopped out of bed and padded into
the next chamber. Here a carved stone table held a flagon of wine and a cup. Dionysus dreamed mad
dreams often and wakened with a dry mouth. He poured the wine into the cup and, as the Call came a
third time, looked in.
 Dionysus' breath drew in sharply. Instead of his own image, an enchanting female face looked up out of
the wine's dark surface. The girl's eyes widened with surprise and he could see her draw breath as
sharply as he had. He smiled.

"Come, godly Dionysus, come to me," she called.

His smile broadened. "I come," he said and gestured. The surface of the wine became empty. Still
watching the cup, Dionysus asked, "Where?"

An image formed. Dionysus frowned. Knossos. He had not been Called from Knossos for . . . he could
not remember how long, but very long. He stood a moment, the lips of his wide, generous mouth turned
down, remembering pain. The priestess had been lover and friend and then, for no reason he could tell,