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

from one foot to the other and cleared his throat. "As you all know, since the death of my grandfather,
Elias, I have had the privilege and responsibility of making sandals for the holy ones." Yanni hesitated,
looking round, and catching Pappa Andros' eye. The priest smiled encouragingly. Yanni had said no
more than everybody already knew, but it was more than he had ever said before. The priest leaned
forward, consumed with curiosity as to what the shoemaker would say next.

"Last week I had a visitor. It was—it was Ag. Dionysos." Yanni looked acutely uncomfortable, and
twisted his glass in his fingers. "He wanted sandals. But that wasn't why he'd come. He stood in my shop,
leaning on the bags, by the door, his face half in sunlight and half in shadow, smiling, like he does. I
couldn't help noticing he's as golden as the cured leather I use for bags. He told me that we were going to
need a lot more shoes. As many shoes as it would take me a year to make, doing nothing else. More
shoes than I can make. Children's shoes, too, especially. Shoes all sizes. And other things too, food,
clothes. He said we'd need them whatever happened and we should start now to have a store of them
when they were needed. I said I couldn't do all that, and he told me to ask you all to help. If we all gave
one day a week to making things for when they're needed, there'd be enough. He said there'll be a lot of
children coming to the island. A lot of them, and a lot of people coming. Because—because Great Pan's
going to be reborn." Yanni's eyes returned guiltily to the priest.

Pappa Andros felt a weight of gazes on him. He sat still for a moment, wishing clever Pappa
Thomas were here to set these people right. But Pappa Thomas wouldn't believe Yanni, wouldn't even
believe the evidence of the wineskin. Pappa Thomas thought that there was a new world coming. What if
he was right, but not in the way he expected? The silence lengthened as Pappa Andros thought his slow
way through it. There was a clatter and a hiss from behind him as Stellio began carving the pig. Yanni bit
his lip.

"Go on, Yanni," Pappa Andros said, at last.

"That's all, really, Pappa," Yanni smiled a little. "Great Pan's to be reborn, and we're to get shoes
ready."

"How many shoes?" asked Spiro, his gold tooth catching the light as he spoke.

"A lot. All sizes." said Yanni. "He said we should all start work on them straight away so we'd be
ready."

"Why shoes? Doesn't Pan have goat's hooves?" asked Lambros the baker. There was a gust of
nervous laughter at this. Pappa Andros looked down into his dark wine, and saw the reflection of his
own face, his dark eyes, his greying beard. He did not hear what reply Yanni made. He alone among
them knew Pan was more than that, more than another holy one with goat's hooves and an urge for
lechery who'd long ago died on a hillside on this island. As a growing boy he had walked often up to the
pine grove scented with sage that still bore the name Pan's Grave. Then he had grown and gone on. He
remembered them talking about the death of Pan at the seminary. They said his name meant the World,
and Everything, Holiness, and What is Essential. If Pan was to be reborn then it meant the world being
made anew, and really it should be his duty to tell his superiors and do what he could to stop it. Pappa
Andros gazed unhappily round at the assembled men and women. More than a few of them were looking
at him expectantly. What could he do? Maybe a great deal, or maybe nothing. He didn't know enough.
He understood the day to day problems of the island and that was enough. The bishop was in Nafplia, he
should make this decision, or the archbishop at Athens or even the Patriarch at Constantinople. But none
of them were here.