"David Gemmell - Knights Of Dark Renown" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gemmel David)

silver steel which surrounded it. The plume was gone from the helm, hacked away in
some skirmish to the north; the visor, raised now, dented by an axe-blade in the Fomorian
War. The runic number that named him had been torn from the brow in a battle to the
east. He could not remember the blow; it was one of so many he had endured during the
six lonely years since the Gate closed. His gaze shifted to the plate rings that circled his
throat and pictured the beard growing beneath them, slowly - oh, so slowly - preparing to
choke him to death.
What a death for a Gabala Knight, imprisoned within his helm, strangled by his own
beard. Such was the price of betrayal, Manannan told himself. Such was the penalty for
cowardice.
Cowardice? He rolled the word in his mind. During the last, lonely, aimless years of
wandering he had proved his physical courage time and time again, in sword-play, in the
charge, in the long wait before the onslaught. But it was not his body which had let him
down on that dark night six years before, when the Black Gate yawned and the stars died.
It was altogether a different cowardice which had robbed him of the power to move.
Not so the others. But then Samildanach would have braved the fires of Hell with a
handful of snow. As would the others: Pateus, Edrin ... all of them.
тАШDamn you, Ollathair,тАЩ hissed the Once-Knight. тАШDamn your arrogance!тАЩ
Manannan returned his mirror to its pouch.
He rested for another hour and then stepped into the saddle. The Citadel was three daysтАЩ
ride west. He avoided towns and settlements, buying his food at isolated farms and
sleeping in meadows. On the morning of the fourth day he approached the Citadel.
Manannan steered his stallion through the trees and into what had once been the rose
garden. It was overgrown now, but here and there a bloom still flourished, stretching
above the choking weeds. The paved path . was mostly covered by grass and small blue
flowers. It was only natural, thought the Once-Knight - six years of wind-blown soil
settling over the carefully laid stones. The side gate was open and he rode into the
courtyard. Here and there grass seeds had settled in the cracks of the pavement, fed by the
fountain pool which overflowed its marble parapet.
He dismounted, his silver armour creaking and his movements slow. The stallion stood
motionless.
тАШNot as you remember it, Kuan,тАЩ whispered the Knight, removing his gauntlet and
stroking the beastтАЩs neck. тАШThey have all gone.тАЩ He led the horse to the pool and waited as
it drank. A wooden shutter nearby was caught by the wind, which cracked it against the
window-frame. The horseтАЩs head came up, ears laid flat against its skull.
тАШItтАЩs all right, boy,тАЩ Manannan soothed. тАШThere is no danger here.тАЩ
As the stallion drank, he loosened the saddle girth and lifted the pack from its back.
Hoisting this to his shoulder, he walked up the steps to the double doors and entered the
Welcome Hall. Dust had gathered here and the long carpet smelt of mildew and
corruption. The statues stood staring at him with sightless eyes.
He felt the burden of his guilt grow even stronger and pushed on past the figures to the
chapel at the rear of the building. The hinges groaned as he forced open the leaf-shaped
door. No dust disturbed this place, with its low altar, but the golden candlesticks were
gone тАФ as were the silver chalice and the silken hangings. Yet still the chapel emanated
peace. He lowered his pack and unfastened the leather binding thongs. Then he moved to
the altar, removed his baldric and scabbard and unbuckled his breastplate, slipping it
under the protruding shoulder-plates. Carefully he placed the armour on the altar.
Shoulder-plates and habergeon followed. He would miss the sleeveless coat of mail; it
had saved his life more than once. Hip-shields, thigh-guards and greaves he laid upon the
stone, placing his black and silver gauntlets atop the breastplate.