"Mary Renault - Greece 4 - The Last Of The Wine" - читать интересную книгу автора (Renault Mary)

the knights, not to be left behind, had volunteered as hoplites. It was true that he was not long back from
campaign, having sailed with Philokrates to the island of Melos, which had refused us tribute. The
Athenians had triumphed, and the Melians been utterly put down. I had waited for the story, to say to the
boys at school, My father says so, who was there. But he grew short-tempered when I questioned him.

Now, rising at the second cock, while the stars were still bright, I took care not to wake the household,
which I knew would anger him, for we had been disturbed in the night. The dogs had made a great noise,
and we had got up to make sure of the bolts and bars; but after all no one had tried to break in.

I waked the porter to lock up after me, and went out. In my youth I always went barefoot, as every
runner ought. Coming from the forecourt into the street, I trod on something sharp; but my soles being as
tough as oxhide, it drew no blood, and I did not pause to look at it. That year I had entered for the boys'
long-race at the Panathenaic Games; so as I ran I kept my mind on my trainer's precepts. My steps felt
light on the thin dust of the street, after the heavy sand of the practice track.

Early as it was, in the Street of the Armourers the lamps were burning, and the smoke was red in the
mouths of the stumpy chimneys beside the shops. All along the way the hammers were clattering; the big
ones flattening the plates, the lesser closing the rivets, and the little ones tapping at the gold ornaments
which had been ordered by those who liked them. My father was against them; he said they often held a
spear-point instead of glancing it off. I should have liked to go in and watch the work, but had only just
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time to climb to the High City and look for the ships.

I had never been there quite so early. From below, the walls looked huge, like black cliffs, with the great
cyclops stones at the bottom still stained with the fires of the Medes. I passed the watchtower and the
bastion, and climbed the steps to the Porch. Being for the first time alone there, I felt awed by its height
and breadth, and the great spaces lost in darkness; I seemed really to be treading the threshold of the
gods. The night was thinning, like a dark wine when clear water is mixed in; I could just see the colours
painted under the roof, changed and deepened in the dusk before dawn.

So I came into the open, beside the Altar of Health, and saw the wings and tripods upon the temple
roofs, looking black against a sky like grey pearl. Here and there a little smoke was rising, where
someone was offering or a priest taking the omens; but no one was in sight. High above me, great Athene
of the Vanguard looked out from her triple-crested helm. There was a smell of frankincense on the air,
and a smell of dew. I walked to the south wall and looked towards the sea.

The distance was dim as mist; yet I saw the ships, for all their lights were burning. Those at moorings had
lit them for the watchmen, and those at anchor for safety, so many they were. You might have thought
that Poseidon had won his old contest with Athene, and set the City upon the sea. I began to count them:
those clustered about Piraeus, those on the curved shore of Phaleron, those out at anchor in the bay; but
I soon lost count.

I had never sailed further than to Delos, where I had gone with a boys' chorus to dance for Apollo. I felt
full of envy for the men of the Army, going out to drain the cup of glory and leave none for me. So must
my great-grandfather have seen the fleet gather at Salamis, where the bronze beak of his trireme
swooped like Zeus' eagle on the ships of the long-haired Medes.