"Stephen Lawhead - Pendragon Cycle 05 - Grail" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lawhead Stephen)

'Aye,' he confirmed. 'He lies within' - Cai indicated the tent behind - 'and
might welcome a mote of peace and quiet.' Turning once more to the
crowd, he frowned. 'Listen to them now!'
He made to renew his efforts at silencing the clamorous Cymbrogi, but I
restrained him. Putting my hand flat on Cai's chest, I demanded, 'But is he
well, brother? Just tell me that.'
'See for yourself,' he replied, brushing off my hand. 'For if you will not
help, at least get out of the way.'
Cai's reply gave me little direction for my expectation. I stepped quickly to
the tent and reached to withdraw the flap, not knowing whether I should
find a king more dead than alive. The mood of the warriors was high, but
as downcast as they had been since the High King was taken away, they
might have easily mistaken Arthur's return - holding it a thing more
hopeful than was otherwise warranted. Crowds, I know, have a way of
believing only what they want to believe.
Oh, but I had seen the wound. Men who sustain such injury, even if they
survive, rarely recover their full vigour - as many a battle-scarred veteran
will attest. Though I am no healer, I know whereof I speak, for ever since I
was old enough to throw a spear without falling off my horse, I have
followed my king into the fight and have seen the crippled and dying
afterwards. May God have mercy, I have myself sent to the Judgment Seat
more men than I can remember.
Yes, I had seen Arthur's wound: deep it was, and brutal. The blood ran
dark in hot, pulsing rushets. When they carried him from the field, his skin
was pale as that of a corpse, his hair lank, and his eyes sunk back in his
skull. As I say, I was no stranger to that appearance. Still, I never thought
to see Arthur wear it.
Plucking up my courage, I grasped the tent flap, pulled it aside, and
stepped quickly in. Scarcely less crowded inside than out, I shouldered my
way farther into the tent's interior, straining for a glimpse of Arthur, and
saw the back of Bedwyr's head, and beside him Rhys; Cador and
Llenlleawg pressed near also. I shoved closer, almost trembling with
uncertainty.
I pushed in between Bedwyr and Cador. Bedwyr, glancing back, saw that
it was me, and shifted a half step aside. And there was Arthur, sitting in
his camp chair, impatient with Myrddin, who was bending over him.
Gwenhwyvar stood behind, resting her hands on his broad shoulders, a
satisfied smile curving her lips.
Arthur looked up at my appearing, and cried, 'Gwalchavad! Welcome,
brother; I hoped you would soon join us.' He made to rise in greeting, but
the Emrys tugged him back down into the chair.
'Let me finish,' Myrddin muttered.
'I cannot sit here all day!' Arthur complained. The men are waiting. I must
speak to them.'
'We will be at this all day if you do not sit still long enough for me to put
this on you!' snapped Myrddin.
'Ah, look at you now,' said Arthur, glancing around and grinning at what
he saw. 'It is Earth and sky to see you, brothers.' He reached out to seize
Bedwyr by the arm.
'Stop squirming,' Myrddin insisted. 'A moment more.' Arthur raised his