"David Gemmell - Stones of Power 2 - Sword of Power" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gemmel David)

CHAPTER ONE
Grysstha watched as the boy twirled the wooden sword, lunging and thrusting at the air around him.
'Feet, boy, think about your feet!'
The old man hawked and spat on the grass, then scratched at the itching stump of his right wrist.
'A swordsman must learn balance. It is not enough to have a quick eye and a good arm - to fall is
to die, boy.'
The youngster thrust the wooden blade into the ground and sat beside the old warrior. Sweat
gleamed on his brow and his sky-blue eyes sparkled.
'But I am improving, yes?'
'Of course you are improving, Cormac. Only a fool could not.'
The boy pulled clear the weapon, brushing dirt from the whittled blade. 'Why is it so short? Why
must I practise with a Roman blade?'
'Know your enemy. Never care about his weaknesses; you will find those if your mind has skill.
Know his strengths. They conquered the world, boy, with just such swords. You know why?'
'No.'
Grysstha smiled. 'Gather me some sticks,- Cormac. Gather me sticks you could break easily with
finger and thumb.' As the boy grinned and moved off to the trees Grysstha watched him, allowing
the pride to shine now that the boy could not see him closely.
Why were there so many fools in the world, he thought, as pride gave way to anger? How could they
not see the potential in the lad? How could they hate him for a fault that was not his?
'Will these do?' asked Cormac, dropping twenty finger-thin sticks at Grysstha's feet.
'Take one and break it.'
'Easily done,' said Cormac, snapping a stick.
'Keep going, boy. Break them all.'
When the youngster had done so, Grysstha pulled a length of twine from his belt. 'Now gather ten
of them and bind them together with this.'
'Like a beacon brand, you mean?'
'Exactly. Tie them tight.'
Cormac made a noose of the twine, gathered ten sticks and bound them tightly together. He offered
the four-inch-thick brand to Grysstha but the old man shook his head.
'Break it,' he ordered.
'It is too thick.'
тАШTry.'
The boy strained at the brand, his face reddening the muscles of his arms and shoulders writhing
under his red woollen shirt.
'A few moments ago you snapped twenty of these sticks, but now you cannot break ten.'
'But they are bound together, Grysstha. Even Calder could not break them.'
"That is the secret the Romans carried in their short-swords. The Saxon fights with a long blade,
swinging it wide. His comrades cannot fight close to him, for they might be struck by his slashing
sword, so each man fights alone, though there are ten thousand in the fray. But the Roman, with
his gladius -he locks shields with his comrades and his blade stabs like a viper bite. Their
legions were like that brand, bound together.'
'And how did they fail, if they were so invincible?'
'An army is as good as its general, and the general is only a reflection of the emperor who
appoints him. Rome has had her day. Maggots crawl in the body of Rome, worms writhe in the brain,


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