"Stephen R. Lawhead - Avalon, The Return Of King Arthur (v4.0)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lawhead Stephen)

He took another gulp of champagne and sauntered back into the bedroom, pausing
at his desk to tap a button on the answering machine. There was a beep; a womanтАЩs
voice drifted airily into the room. тАЬTeddy, where are you?тАЭ she spoke rapidly, her
English lightly spiced with a Portuguese lilt. тАЬI havenтАЩt seen you for days, darling. I
meant to come up, but Amanda is in town and I promised to have a drink with her.
But do come down, my sweet. WeтАЩll have a late supper, just us two. IтАЩve got a
bottle of your favorite brandy. Okay?тАЭ There came the sound of a doorbell on the
tape. тАЬThatтАЩs Amanda. Gotta run. Kisses. Bye.тАЭ
тАЬYou mean Armando, donтАЩt you, love?тАЭ He tapped the button again, and another
voice came on тАФ a manтАЩs voice this time. It greeted him coolly and identified itself
as representing the Foreign Office, whereupon Teddy jabbed a second button to cut
it off. тАЬBastards,тАЭ he muttered; he had heard it all before.
As the machine rearmed its digital memory, Teddy dropped his hand to the center
drawer of his desk, pulled it open, and took out a brown wooden box. He wandered
back onto the balcony, set the box on the table, and drained his glass. He stood for
a time, clutching the empty glass and staring out into the gathering darkness.
Coming to himself once more, he retrieved the bottle from the bucket and
ceremoniously emptied the remains of the bottle into his glass, spilling most of it
over the tablecloth. He then turned and heaved the empty bottle over the balcony.
From the satisfying crash that followed, he guessed he had hit his new Alpha Romeo
Spider in the driveway below.
тАЬCтАЩest la vie,тАЭ he murmured, and sucked at the rim of his overflowing glass.
He sat down heavily, sloshing champagne onto his bare thighs. Setting his glass
carefully on the table, he brushed at the liquid and then took up the wooden box and
placed it on his knees. He stared at the box for a moment, then opened it and
withdrew the small, silver-plated British service revolver.
He hefted the gun in his hand, turned it, and peered at the cylinder to make sure that
each chamber contained a bullet. He transferred the revolver to his left hand and
took up his glass with the right.
тАЬTo England!тАЭ he growled, knocking back the champagne in a single gulp. тАЬBloody
England.тАЭ
He gazed unhappily at the empty glass, then hurled that, too, over the balcony.
Reaching up, he straightened his crown. Then, pressing the muzzle of the revolver
tightly against his left temple, he gently squeezed the trigger and blew away the right
side of his head.



Part I

One
Even as a child, James could remember feeling that some mysterious power held his
fate in strong, infallible hands. Perhaps a youth spent in the Highlands тАФ where
ghosts and Fair Folk still haunt the hidden glens, and the quaint predictions of
country sages and seers find enthusiastic reception among the locals тАФ had shaped
him more than he imagined. Superstition clings to the ancient hills like the gorse and
heather, and it would be unusual indeed if an impressionable youngster did not
imbibe something of his surroundings.
He did not ask for second sight; he never sought it, but simply accepted it as a
feature of his unique being. In time, he learned that not everyone possessed the