"Sean McMullen - A Ring of Green Fire" - читать интересную книгу автора (McMullen Sean)

"Watkin has the attention span of a butterfly. I meant to... focus his mind."
"To what end?"
"That is between myself and Allah. Rest assured, however, that Watkin will be tortured."
"And you will savour his screams with the rest of us?"
"Oh no, I shall be hard at work, preparing certain ingredients to quench the ring of green fire."
 "Lord physician, I don't follow."
"You will never follow, Sir Phillip, but your ring of green fire shall be quenched, rely on my word for
that."
***


By the time I had left Sir Peter's castle for Delmy, Watkin had faced the first of the silent, hooded men
that were to torment him. Thousands gathered outside the castle to hear his screams, but these did not
last. After he was blinded, the tendons at the source of his voice were cut. This produced such a riot
outside that all Watkin's subsequent tortures had to be on public display. As I rode off for Delmy hot
irons were being applied to the soles of his feet by the second torturer, Sir Douglas, while Sir Phillip held
up a cloak up to keep the rain from cooling the red-hot metal.
I returned after three days, bringing Gerelde with me. Watkin was, of course, the only lover she had
ever known, so he was a lot more special to her than the other way about. She was blind to his
disfigurements, and she made heartfelt pleas for her feckless tinker. It was an impressive sight, for even
on her knees she was taller than Sir Peter. I stood by and collected her tears on a small cloth. At a nod
from me Sir Peter relented-- on the condition that Watkin marry her, and that he never leave the village
of Delmy under pain of death by torture. Watkin could only nod his head by way of agreement. Now
Gerelde wept tears of joy, and I wiped these from her face as well.
A great marriage feast was held, and a good many folk with the ring of green fire were brought in to
participate. Before Sir Peter's eyes I ground the cloth with its tears into a paste, then added cuttings of
herbs taken from the witch's garden. The food at the feast was wonderful village fare, and to this I added
my mixture. All ate heartily, and by evening the green fire was gone from every afflicted man and woman
at the feast. There were, well, unseemly celebrations in spite of the rain, but that was only to be expected.
The following day I called upon Sir Peter.
"Now that the curse is broken, a simple remedy can be used to quench the green fire in all others who
still have it," I told him. "I have trained several clerks and midwives in its preparation already, and they
will train more. Soon the green fire will be no more, so my work here is done."
Sir Peter embraced me so strongly that I heard the joints of my spine pop. I was the physician who
had returned the feeling to his penis, and he was brimming with gratitude.
"You must have a reward, honours, you have done more good for this land than words can say."
"There is my agreed fee, of course."
"That? A mere trifle! Here's twice your fee." He tossed me a bag of gold. "Now, my Lord physician, if
you could but renounce the faith of Islam you could also be given great rank."
"My faith is Islam, please respect that, and rank does not interest me. I am a physician, so although I
find it an honour to treat caliphs and kings, I do not aspire to their thrones."
"Then treat a king you will! Our King Henry lies sick at Chinon, a town in his French provinces. I'm his
trusted adviser, I'll recommend you to him, I'll recommend you in the very highest words of praise."
"I would be honoured to treat your king, Sir Peter."
***


Avenzoar gazed at the fountain at the centre of the courtyard for some moments before turning back to
his guest. The constant rain, the glowing green fire, all the strange horrors of his visitor's tale slowly
retreated before the warm Spanish sunshine.