"Stephen Lawhead - Celtic Crusades 02 - The Black Rood" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lawhead Stephen)

'However,' he said, his voice taking on a sepulchral tone, 'it is becoming
increasingly clear that our ventures into the manipulation of political
systems cannot continue. It is dangerous, and potentially destructive to the
overall aims of the Inner Circle - not least because such meddling in the
power structures of sovereign nations possesses a vast and unperceived
potential to seduce us away from our prime objectives.'
Tall and gaunt in his red robe with the golden cross over the heart,
Pemberton looked around the table to ensure that each of us understood
him precisely. 'Furthermore, gentlemen, it is increasingly evident that the
world has embarked on a new and frightening course. And we cannot hope
to remain uncorrupted by the increasingly corrosive powers beginning to
assert their influence on the individual populations of this planet. South
America is in ferment, Eastern Europe is rapidly sliding towards political
anarchy and chaos, the clouds of war are darkening the skies in a dozen
places.'
Citing example after undeniable example, our wise leader revealed to us
not only the shape and form, but the vast extent of the wickedness about to
fall upon an unsuspecting world. 'New threats call for new strategies. In
short, gentlemen, we must adapt our methods if we are to survive. We
must prepare for a new crusade.'
He went on to lay out for us the battle plan which would shape our future
from that night. When he finished, one by one, we of the Sanctus Clarus,
Guardians of the True Path, stood to renew our sacred vows, and pledge
ourselves to this new crusade.
Our ancient enemy arms itself and its countless minions with new and ever
more powerful weapons of mass destruction, so that night we soldiers of
the Holy Light likewise armed ourselves for the coming conflict. In the
undying spirit of the Cele De, we summoned the age-old courage of those
dauntless Celtic crusaders who have gone before us and, shoulder-to-
shoulder, took our places beside them on the battle line.
The war will come. It is both imminent and inevitable. For the present,
however, as I look out on the glimmering Cypriot sea, and smell the
heady, blossom-scented breeze, and feel the warmth of the sun and the
gentle, abiding love of my good wife, I will savour the last, lingering
benevolence of a more humane era which, when it is gone, will not be
known again.
Tomorrow's travails will keep until tomorrow. While the sun yet shines I
will delight myself in this glorious season, and cherish it against the evil
day.
 ONE



The Feast of St. George Anno Domini, 1132
My Dearest Caitriona,
The worst has happened. As old Pedar would say, 'I am sore becalmed.'
My glorious dream is ashes and dust. It died in the killing heat of a
nameless Syrian desert - along with eight thousand good men whose only
crime was that of fealty to a stubborn, arrogant boy. I could weep for
them, but for the fact that I, no less headstrong and haughty than that