"David Drake - Belisarius 2 - In The Heart Of Darkness" - читать интересную книгу автора (Drake David)

pain from killing Belisarius, whom he admired deeply. The agony from
Theodora's murder, which would leave him, in the end, shrieking on his
deathbed.
The servant helped him don his cloak, before opening the door.
Narses stood in the doorway, waiting for the servant to fetch his palanquin
from the stables in the back of the villa. He glanced up. The night sky was
clear, cloudless. Open. Unstained.
Murder them he would, nonetheless, or see to the doing of the deed.
Behind him, dimly, he heard John of Cappadocia speaking. He could not make out
the words, but there was no mistaking that coarse, foul voice.
Foul noise and unstained sky swirled in the soul of Narses. Images of a
murdered Cappadocian and a murdered Thracian vanished. The cold, still face of
the eunuch finally twisted, unbridled. There was nothing reptilian in that
face now. It was the face of a warm-blooded beast. Almost a child's face, for
all its creases and wrinkles, if a child's face had ever borne such a burden
of helpless rage.
Cursed, hated ambition. He would destroy himself for that cannibal.
The palanquin was here. The four slaves who carried it waited in silent
obedience while the servant assisted Narses into the cushioned seat. The
palanquin began to move.
Narses leaned back into the cushions, eyes closed.
His back hurt.

Chapter 1
RANAPUR
Spring 530 AD
Belisarius watched the stone ball arching through the sky. The trajectory was
no flatter than that of a ball cast by catapult, but it slammed into the brick
wall surrounding Ranapur with much greater force. Even over the roar of the
cannon blast, the sound of the ball's impact was remarkable.
"A least a foot in diameter," stated Anastasius.
Belisarius thought the cataphract's estimate of the cannonball's size was
accurate, and nodded his agreement. The other of his veteran bodyguards,
Valentinian, grimaced sourly.
"So what?" he grumbled. "I've seen a catapult toss bigger."
"Not as far," countered Anastasius, "and not with anything like that kind of
power." The huge Thracian shrugged his shoulders. "There's no point fooling
ourselves. These infernal Malwa devices make our Roman artillery engines look
like toys."
Menander, the last of the three cataphracts who had accompanied Belisarius to
India, spoke up.
"What do you think, general?"
Belisarius turned in his saddle to reply. But his quick answer was interrupted
by a muttered curse.
Anastasius chuckled. "It's amazing how quickly we forget old skills, isn't
it?"
Belisarius smiled ruefully, for the truth of the remark could not be denied.
Belisarius had introduced stirrups into the equipment of his cavalry only a
few months before his journey to India. Already he had half-forgotten the
little tricks of staying in a saddle without them. The ambassadorial mission