"Mary Jacober - The Black Chalice" - читать интересную книгу автора (Jacober Mary)

Inside was music, and tables laden with food, and knights and ladies in beautiful
garments, and minnesingers, and wild animals which were friendly no matter how
dangerous they looked, and many other wonderful things. Ruling this castle was a
black-haired queen, more beautiful than any goddess, who gave them food and wine and
spoke with them - but what she spoke of, they swore they could not remember. After
some days, they begged to take their leave, and return to their duties. The queen gave
them gifts of food, and let them go. When they stepped out of the castle gates, the forest
road was before their feet, as though they had never left it, and when they looked behind
where they had come, there was only woodland, shimmering with sun.
This tale they told to the bishop of Ravensbruck, who promptly ordered an escort of
soldiers, and went in search of the castle. He would exorcise it, he said, and cast the
woman out, for all this kingdom belonged now to Christ. Like the triumphant ravagers of
Dorn, the bishop and his escort were never seen again.
But the two priests could not forget that magic place. However much they prayed and
fasted and did penance, they could not free themselves from memories, or from their
longing to go back again. One at last undertook a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, and died in the
journey. The other withdrew to an isolated monastery, where, according to the stories, he
ended his days quite mad.



"Perhaps we shouldn't go there after all, my lord."
Paul's heart leapt at the seneschal's words, but he said nothing, his face lowered as he
unfastened his master's hauberk in their small, ugly room.
Reinhard was sitting with his back to the door, his arms resting lightly on his knees. He
would spend the night there, perhaps lying down for a few hours of sleep, or perhaps not;
but no enemy would enter the room without killing him first. A good man, Reinhard was,
loyal and solid as a rock. But he was no match for Karelian in mind or in spirit, and he
never would be тАФ a fact which pleased Paul very much, though it shamed him to admit it.
"You're very serious about this," Karelian said.
"I fear no enemy I can see, my lord," the knight said stoutly. "I think you know it well
тАФ"
"I do," Karelian interrupted him, smiling faintly.
"But these evil things . . . ! What harm would be done if we returned to Karn? Count
Arnulf won't blame you for the delay, knowing the bridge is gone. And besides, the
wedding won't be till after Twelfth night."
The count sat on his bed, and Paul dropped to one knee to begin tugging off his boots.
"Faithful Pauli," Karelian said to him. "You haven't said a word, but you also think we
should go back to Karn, don't you?"
Paul faltered, staring at him. There was warmth in Karelian's eyes, but there was also
a kind of weariness тАФ the weariness of a man who was always stronger than the men
around him, and who sometimes got tired of it.
There is no reason in the world to go back to Karn. That was what Paul wanted to
say. We are men, we are warriors, we are lords. Are we going to be scared off by wood
nymphs and ghosts?
And in another part of himself, he wanted even more desperately to say: Oh, please,
my good lord, let's turn back! It's dangerous there, and we've no reason to go, and
everyone's afraid . . . !
"It's for your lordship to decide," he said. He had meant to speak firmly, like a brave
knight eager to follow wherever his liege might go. But his voice was small and dry, and