"Hearn,.Lian.-.Otori.03.-.Brilliance.Of.The.Moon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hearn Lian)I looked more closely at the feather. It lay across the scar on my right palm
where I had burned my hand a long time ago, in Mino, my birthplace, the day Shigeru had saved my life. My hand was also marked with the straight line of the Kikuta, the Tribe family to which I belonged, from which I had run away the previous winter. My in- heritance, my past, and my future, all seemed to be there, held in the palm of my hand. УWhy do you show it to me now?Ф УYou will be leaving here soon. You have been with us all winter, studying and training to prepare yourself to fulfill ShigeruТs last commands to you. I wanted you to share in his vision, to remember that his goal was justice, and yours must be too.Ф УI will never forget it,Ф I promised. I bowed reverently over the feather, holding it gently in both hands, and offered it back to the abbot. He took it, bowed over it, and replaced it in the small lacquered box from which he had taken it. I said nothing, remembering all that Shigeru had done for me, and how much I still needed to accomplish for him. УIchiro told me about the houou when he was teaching me to write my name,Ф I said finally. УWhen I saw him in Hagi last year he advised me to wait for him here, but I cannot wait much longer. We must leave for Maruyama within the week.Ф I had been worrying about my old teacher since the snows had melted, for I knew that the Otori lords, ShigeruТs uncles, were trying to take possession of my house and lands in Hagi and that Ichiro continued stubbornly to resist them. I did not know it, but Ichiro was already dead. I had the news of it the next day. I was talking with Amano in the courtyard when I heard something from far horses plunging up the slope was unexpected and shocking. Usually no one came to the temple at Terayama on horseback. They either walked up the steep mountain path or, if unfit or very old, were carried by sturdy porters. A few seconds later Amano heard it too. By then I was already running to the temple gates, calling to the guards. Swiftly they set about closing the gates and barring them. Matsuda came hurrying across the courtyard. He was not wearing armor, but his sword was in his belt. Before we could speak to each other, a challenge came from the guardhouse. УWho dares to ride to the temple gate? Dismount and approach this place of peace with respect!Ф It was Kubo MakotoТs voice. One of TerayamaТs young warrior monks, he had become, over the last few months, my closest friend. I ran to the wooden stockade and climbed the ladder to the guardhouse. Makoto gestured toward the spy hole. Through the chinks in the wood I could see four horsemen. They had been galloping up the hill; now they pulled their heaving, snorting mounts to a halt. They were fully armed, but the Otori crest was clearly visible on their helmets. For a moment I thought that they might be messengers from Ichiro. Then my eyes fell on the basket tied to the bow of one of the saddles. My heart turned to stone. I could guess, only too easily, what was inside such a container. The horses were rearing and cavorting, not only from the exertion of the gallop, but also from alarm. Two of them were already bleeding from wounds to their hindquarters. A mob of angry men poured from the narrow path, armed with staves |
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