"Dunsany, Lord - In Zaccarath" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dunsany Lord)

In Zaccarath

by Lord Dunsany




"Come," said the King in sacred Zaccarath, "and let our
prophets prophesy before us."
A far-seen jewel of light was the holy palace, a wonder
to the nomads on the plains.
There was the King with all his underlords, and the
lesser kings that did him vassalage, and there were all his
queens with all their jewels upon them.
Who shall tell of the splendour in which they sat; of the
thousand lights and the answering emeralds; of the dangerous
beauty of that hoard of queens, or the flash of their laden
necks?
There was a necklace there of rose-pink pearls beyond the
art of the dreamer to imagine. Who shall tell of the
amethyst chandeliers, where torches, soaked in rare
Bhyrinian oils, burned and gave off a scent of blethany?
(This herb marvellous, which, growing near the summit of
Mount Zaumnos, scents all the Zaumnian range, and is smelt
far out on the Kepuscran plains, and even, when the wind is
from the mountains, in the streets of the city of Ognoth.
At night it closes its petals and is heard to breathe, and
its breath is a swift poison. This it does even by day if
the snows are disturbed about it. No plant of this has ever
been captured alive by a hunter.)
Enough to say that when the dawn came up it appeared by
contrast pallid and unlovely and stripped bare of all its
glory, so that it hid itself with rolling clouds.
"Come," said the King, "let our prophets prophesy."
Then the heralds stepped through the ranks of the King's
silk-clad warriors who lay oiled and scented upon velvet
cloaks, with a pleasant breeze among them caused by the fans
of slaves; even their casting-spears were set with jewels;
through their ranks the heralds went with mincing steps, and
came to the prophets, clad in brown and black, and one of
them they brought and set him before the King. And the King
looked at him and said, "Prophesy unto us."
And the prophet lifted his head, so that his beard came
clear from his brown cloak, and the fans of the slaves that
fanned the warriors wafted the tip of it a little awry. And
he spake to the King, and spake thus:
"Woe unto thee, King, and woe unto Zaccarath. Woe unto
thee, and woe unto thy women, for your fall shall be sore
and soon. Already in Heaven the gods shun thy god: they