"McCammon, Robert R. - The Wolf's Hour" - читать интересную книгу автора (McCammon Robert R)

The lake was blue and wind-rippled, and as Dimitri pulled the carriage into a meadow Mikhail heard the cawing of crows atop a huge, gnarled oak. Forest circled the lake, the emerald wilderness unbroken by village or habitation for a hundred miles to the north, south and west. Dimitri stopped the carriage and chocked the wheels, then let the horses drink lake water as the Gallatinovs unloaded their picnic baskets and spread the blanket down overlooking the blue pool.
They ate their meal of baked ham, fried potatoes, dark wheat bread, and ginger cake with sugar frosting. One of the horses nickered and jumped around nervously for a moment, but Dimitri got the mare settled down and Fyodor sat facing the woods. УShe smells something wild,Ф he told Elana as he poured them both a glass of red wine. УChildren!Ф he warned. УDonТt stray too far from us!Ф
УYes, Father,Ф Alizia said, but she was already taking off her shoes and lifting up the hem of her pink dress to go wading.
Mikhail went down to the lake with her and hunted for pretty stones while she walked in the shallows. Dimitri stayed nearby, sitting on a fallen tree and watching the clouds glide past, a rifle at his side.
The enchanted afternoon moved on. His pockets full of stones, Mikhail reclined in the sunny meadow and watched his father and mother sit together on the picnic blanket and talk. Alizia lay beside her father, sleeping, and every so often his hand would move out to touch her arm or shoulder. Mikhail realized, quite suddenly, that his fatherТs hand had never touched him. He didnТt know why, nor did he understand why his fatherТs eyes took on a January chill when they met his own. Sometimes he felt like a small thing that lived beneath a rock, and other times he didnТt care, but there was no time when there wasnТt a hurting deep in his heart.
After a while, his mother laid her head on his fatherТs shoulder, and they slept in the sun. Mikhail watched a raven circling overhead, the light glinting blue black off its wings, and then he stood up and walked to the carriage to get his kite. He ran back and forth, letting the string unwind from his fingers, and a breeze caught the silk, expanded it, and the kite sailed smoothly up into the air.
He started to shout to his parents, but they were both asleep. Alizia was sleeping as well, her back pressed against their fatherТs side. Dimitri sat on his fallen tree, deep in thought, the rifle resting across his knees.
The kite floated higher. The string continued to unreel. Mikhail shifted his fingers to get a better grip. The breeze was fierce beyond the treetops. It grasped the kite, hurled it right and left and made the string thrum like a mandolin. Still the kite ascendedЧtoo high, he decided momentarily. He started to reel it back. And then the wind hit the kite from a strange angle, lifted it and turned it at the same time, and the string tightened, strained, and snapped about six feet below the balsawood crossbar.
Oh no! he almost cried out. The kite had been a present from his mother on his eighth birthday, the seventh of March. And now it was flying away at the mercy of the wind, going over the treetops toward the deep woods. Oh no! He looked at Dimitri and started to shout for help. But Dimitri had his hands pressed to his face, as if in some private agony. The rest of his family slumbered on, and Mikhail thought of how his father hated to be awakened from a nap. In another moment the kite would be over the forest, and the decision had to be made now whether to stand here and watch it go or follow and hope it would fall when the breeze slackened.
Children! he remembered his father saying. DonТt stray too far from us!
But this was his kite, and if it were lost, his motherТs heart would be broken. He glanced again at Dimitri; the man hadnТt moved. Precious seconds were ticking past.
Mikhail decided. He ran across the meadow, and into the woods.
Looking up, he could see the kite through the green leaves and tangle of branches. As he followed its erratic progress, he dug a handful of smooth stones from his pocket and dropped them at his feet to mark a trail back. The kite went on, and so did the boy.
Less than two minutes after Mikhail had left the meadow, three men on horseback came down to the lake from the main road. They all wore dark, patched peasant clothing. One of them carried a rifle slung around his shoulder, and the other two were armed with pistols in cartridge belts. They continued to where the Gallatinov family slept in the sun, and as one of the horses snorted and whinnied Dimitri looked around and stood up, pinpricks of sweat sparkling on his face.


2

Fyodor Gallatinov awakened as three shadows fell across him. He blinked, saw the horses and riders, and as he sat up Elana awakened, too. Alizia looked up, rubbing her eyes.
УGood afternoon, General Gallatinov,Ф the lead rider, a man with a long thin face and bushy red eyebrows, said. УI havenТt seen you since Kowel.Ф
УKowel? WhoЕ who are you?Ф
УI was Lieutenant Sergei Schedrin. The Guards Army. You may not remember me, but surely you remember Kowel.Ф
УOf course I do. Every day of my life.Ф Gallatinov struggled to his feet, balancing on his cane. His face had become mottled with angry red. УWhatТs the meaning of this, Lieutenant Schedrin?Ф
УOh, no.Ф The other man extended a finger and wagged it back and forth. УIТm simply Comrade Schedrin now. My friends Anton and Danalov were also at Kowel.Ф GallatinovТs gaze flickered to the two faces; AntonТs was broad and heavy-jowled, and DanalovТs bore a bayonet scar from his left eyebrow up to his hairline. Their eyes were cold and only slightly curious, as if they were examining an insect under a magnifying glass. УWeТve brought the rest of our company with us as well,Ф Schedrin said.
УThe rest of your company?Ф Gallatinov shook his head, not comprehending.
УListen!Ф Schedrin cocked his head as the breeze keened through the woods. УThere they are, whispering. Listen to what they say: СJustice. Justice.Т Do you hear them, General?Ф
УWeТre having a picnic,Ф Gallatinov said firmly. УIТd like for you gentlemen to leave.Ф
УYes,Ф Schedrin said. УIТm sure you would. What a lovely family you have.Ф
УDimitri!Ф the general shouted. УDimitri, fire a warning shot above theirЧФ He turned toward Dimitri, and what he saw closed an iron claw around his heart.
Dimitri stood about fifteen yards away, and hadnТt even cocked the rifle or lifted it to a firing position. He stared at the ground, his shoulders stooped. УDimitri!Ф Gallatinov shouted again, but he knew he would not be answered. His throat was dry, and he grasped ElanaТs chilly hand.
УThank you for bringing them here, Comrade Dimitri,Ф Schedrin told him. УYour service will be noted and rewarded.Ф

Mikhail, moving swiftly through the forest in pursuit of his kite, thought he heard his father shouting. His heart hammered; his father had probably awakened and was calling for him. There was going to be a switching in MikhailТs immediate future. But the kite was falling now, the string snagging in the top of an oak tree. Then the wind kicked it loose, and the kite rose again. Mikhail pushed through dense brush, soft spongy masses of dead leaves and moss, and kept following. Ten more feet; twenty more; thirty more. Thorns grabbed his hair; he pulled free, ducked his head under the thorn branches, and dropped another stone to the ground to mark his way back.
The kite dipped, fell into the arms of an evergreen, and teasingly floated free once more. Then it was rising sharply into the blue sky, and as Mikhail watched it go his face was dappled with sun and shadow.
Something moved in the underbrush, less than a dozen feet to MikhailТs left.
He stood very still as the kite picked up speed and floated away. Whatever had moved was silent now. Waiting.
There was another movement, to the boyТs right. The soft crackle of weight settling on dry leaves.
Mikhail swallowed. He started to call for his mother, but she was too far away to hear him, and he wanted no loud noises.
Silence, but for the wind hissing in the trees.
Mikhail smelled the aroma of an animal: a rank, bestial smell, the odor of a creature that had decayed meat on its breath. He felt somethingЧtwo somethingsЧwatching him from opposite sides, and he thought that if he ran they would leap on him from behind. His impulse was to scream and turn and flee headlong through the woods, but he struck it down; he could not get away by running. No, no. A Gallatinov never runs, his father had once told him. Mikhail felt a droplet of sweat trickling down the center of his back. The beasts were waiting for his decision, and they were very close.
He turned, his legs trembling, and began to walk slowly back, following the trail of lakeshore stones.

A Gallatinov never runs, Fyodor thought. His gaze swept the meadow. Mikhail. Where was Mikhail?
УOur company was slaughtered at Kowel.Ф Schedrin leaned forward, hands clenching the saddle horn. УSlaughtered,Ф he repeated. УWe were commanded to run headlong across a swamp into a nest of barbed wire and machine guns. Of course you remember that.Ф
УI remember a war,Ф Gallatinov answered. УI remember one tragedy tripping on the heels of another.Ф
УFor you, tragedy. For us, slaughter. Of course we obeyed orders. We were good soldiers of the czar. How could we not obey?Ф
УWe all obeyed the same orders that day.Ф
УYes, we did,Ф Schedrin agreed. УBut some obeyed them with the blood of innocent men. Your hands are still red, General. I can see the blood dripping off them.Ф
УLook closer.Ф Gallatinov stepped defiantly toward the man, though Elana tried to hold him back. УMy own blood is on there, too!Ф
УAh.Ф Schedrin nodded. УSo it is. But not enough, I think.Ф