"Jo Walton - The Rebirth of Pan" - читать интересную книгу автора (Walton Jo)

"Don't encourage them," Pappa Thomas would say. "It's the twenty-first century, not the fourth!
We're in the European Community. This is the modern age. We have electricity. Computers. Everything
is changing and going to be different. Just because we are out of the way we must not get left behind." He
would frown sternly at Pappa Andros whose little house had neither electricity nor computers, and who
did not find this century all that different from those which had preceded it, in the important ways.

Pappa Andros was getting old and his belly under his big priest's beard was getting big and loose,
and he liked to laugh. He still loved Christ and his saint, and he loved his people. He could cope with
their oddities. Choosing not to dispute with Yanni the reality of the gods or saints he shod was just one
among many things that made perfect sense in his daily life. It only seemed strange when he found he
could not talk about these things to Pappa Thomas or to the bishop, when he made one of his rare visits
to the island. He got on well with his flock, including the taciturn Yanni. He appreciated the discount
Yanni gave him when he or his wife needed a new pair of sandals. He didn't think the matter of making
sandals for the gods was worth mentioning to his superiors.

So it was that when Yanni invited him to dinner at Stellio's taverna he made nothing of it and agreed
cheerfully, taking it for a bit of neighbourly kindness. He enjoyed his food, and he enjoyed eating and
drinking with his friends. He didn't suspect anything strange until he arrived and found every important
person and every single shoemaker from the island of Ithyka waiting for him.

Stellio's taverna occupied the ground floor of a large cream-painted rectangular house near the
centre of the town. Upstairs, where Stellio and his large family lived, there were many balconies jutting
under a red tiled roof. Downstairs was one single large room, the taverna. One end was the kitchen, with
the big open fire, little stoves, and methane-powered refrigerator. Spread throughout the rest of the room
were the tables, arranged to seat as many people as possible. The kitchen was open to the guests, who
would wander in and select what they wanted, often trying a mouthful from the pans first. The food in
Stellio's was good. He often spit roasted a whole lamb in the large fireplace, or occasionally a pig, and on
any day two or three chickens would be turning and sizzling over the fire.

On the day of Yanni's meal, half a pig was crackling over the fire and all the tables were arranged in
a semi-circle. Every place was filled but one. There was an air of hushed expectation. Pappa Andros slid
into the empty place, looking about him to see who was there. Before he could begin to talk to his
neighbours, Yanni stood up and began to fill glasses from a wineskin. The wine was dark red, not the
usual thin yellow pine-flavoured retsina Stellio served. Yanni filled each glass almost full, and gave them
to Stellio's daughter Katerina who carried them round to the guests.

When he started there was the usual cheerful hum and chatter of a roomful of people, but as he
continued the taverna grew quieter and quieter until before half the people were served the room was so
quiet that Pappa Andros could hear each footfall on the wooden boards as the girl crossed to the tables.
It wasn't until Yanni filled the last glass with the last drops from the now empty skin and sat down again
that Pappa Andros realised what it was that was strange. He had seen the shoemaker fill glasses for more
than sixty people from a wineskin that should hold no more than half a bottle of wine. A whole bottle
would fill only five or six of the fluted but chunky glasses Stellio favoured for their solidity. Pappa Andros
glanced at his neighbour, Yanni's cousin the shoemaker Kosta. He was about to open his mouth to say
something when Yanni again stood up. He drew breath as if to make a speech, looking awkward and
uncomfortable.

"Colleagues, friends and neighbours," he began, in a rehearsed, formal and stilted tone. "I have
invited you here tonight to explain something that someone told me and to ask for your help." He shuffled