"Robert Holdstock - Mythago Wood" - читать интересную книгу автора (Heinlein Robert A)

line that skirted the edge of the extensive estate. Oak Lodge lay on the far side of the grounds, four miles
further round the road, but accessible via the right of way through the estate's fields and woodlands. I
intended to take an intermediate route and so, lugging my single, crammed suitcase as best I could, I
began to walk along the grass-covered railway track, peering on occasion over the high, red-brick wall
that marked the limit of the estate, trying to see through the gloom of the pungent pinewoods.

Soon this woodland, and the wall, vanished, and the land opened into tight, tree-bordered fields, to which
I gained access across a rickety wooden stile, almost lost beneath briar and full-fruited blackberry bushes.
I had to trample my way out of the public domain and so on to the south trackway that wound, skirting
patchy woodland and the stream called 'sticklebrook', up to the ivy-covered house that was my home.

It was late morning, and very hot, as I came in distant sight of Oak Lodge. Somewhere off to my left I
could hear the drone of a tractor. I thought of old Alphonse Jeffries, the estate's farm supervisor, and with
the memory of his weather-tanned, smiling face came images of the mill-pond, and fishing for pike from
his tiny rowing boat.

Memory of the tranquil mill-pond haunted me, and I moved away from the south track, through waist-
high nettles and a tangle of ash and hawthorn scrub. I came out close to the bank of the wide, shadowy
pool, its full extent hidden by the gloom of the dense stand of oak woodland that began on its far side.
Almost hidden among the rushes that crowded the nearer edge of the pond was the shallow boat from
which Chris and I had fished, years before; its white paint had flaked away almost entirely now, and
although the craft looked watertight, I doubted if it would take the weight of a full grown man. I didn't
disturb it but walked around the bank and sat down on the rough concrete steps of the crumbling

file:///G|/rah/Robert%20Holdstock%20-%20Mythago%20Wood.htm (5 of 197) [2/14/2004 12:50:08 AM]
 Mythago Wood


boathouse; from here I watched the surface of the pool rippling with the darting motions of insects, and
the occasional passage of a fish, just below.

'A couple of sticks and a bit of string . . . that's all it takes.'

Christian's voice startled me. He must have walked along a beaten track from the Lodge, hidden from my
view by the shed. Delighted, I jumped to my feet and turned to face him. The shock of his appearance was
like a physical blow to me, and I think he noticed, even though I threw my arms about him and gave him a
powerful brotherly bear-hug.

'I had to see this place again,' I said.

'I know what you mean,' he said, as we broke our embrace. 'I often walk here myself.' There was a
moment's awkward silence as we stared at each other. I felt, distinctly, that he was not pleased to see me.
'You're looking brown,' he said. 'And very drawn. Healthy and ill together

'Mediterranean sun, grape-picking, and shrapnel. I'm still not one hundred percent fit.' I smiled. 'But it is
good to be back, to see you again.'

'Yes,' he said dully. 'I'm glad you've come, Steve. Very glad. I'm afraid the place . . . well, a bit of a mess.
I only got your letter yesterday and I haven't had a chance to do anything. Things have changed quite a
bit, you'll find.'