"Sean McMullen - Voice of Steel" - читать интересную книгу автора (McMullen Sean)

Voice of Steel
by Sean McMullen


The Tynedal Journal ended with the sharp, shocking finality of an executioner's blade. Edward and
William Tynedale had died in 1406 when the two-man culverin that they were testing exploded. That
information was not an entry, it was on a photocopy that had been inserted by Sir Steven Chester. Up
until 1404, most of the journal had been about gunpowder mixtures and alloys for gun castings. The
remainder consisted of notes and observations on optics, astronomy, birdflight, and even the design of
ships. Then, on the 4th of April, 1404, William noted that he had bought a singing sword from some
stallholder in a market, and that he intended to keep it under observation until it sang for him. The sword
was Spanish in general style, and he referred to it as the Don Alverin sword.

The sword did not exactly sing for William, but it did speak. To William it must have been
incomprehensible, but like a good scientific observer, he noted down what he had heard as best he
could. Being a scholar of early English, I managed to translate the words into what had actually been said
by the sword, as opposed to what William had written down. Part of the reason that thirteen words had
taken over an hour was my own disbelief at what I was hearing.

"Cor toop onter London orbetalle, steefee," was very hard to explain. "Wante some thing ater soopr
marte?" was also a serious problem.

I read the two sentences aloud several times. The faster I read, the more they sounded like "Caught up
on the London Orbital, Steffy" and "Want something from the supermart?" The words had obviously
been spoken in English, but transcribed by someone unused to English as we spoke it, and relying on
phonetics very heavily. Either of the Tynedale Brothers might have transcribed the original sentences like
that.

"Of course I intend to have the journal checked for authenticity," Sir Steven Chester told me as I first
read the words that simply could not have existed, but nevertheless did.

The Tynedale Journal and the Don Alverin Sword were lying on the desk before me. It was 2004, and I
was in a country house near Chesterforth, north of London. Sir Steven had discovered the sword and
journal sealed up in a grave while the ancestral crypt was being renovated as some sort of tourist
attraction. Although he knew little about early English, he had recognised William Tynedale's version of
"supermarket" for what it was.

"Have you any idea how it could have happened?" I asked.

"You are the expert, Michelle, I had hoped you would have all the theories."

I had no theories. Sir Steven had found my name on the Internet when he had done a search on Edward
and William Tynedale. Although I am a schoolteacher rather than an academic, the Tynedales had been
almost an obsession of mine since my university undergraduate years. The few surviving records
concerning them hinted that they had been quite brilliant scientific observers and innovators, at least peers
of Da Vinci or Galileo. I had copies of everything known about them, and even a few scraps of paper
with their writing. I even had a print of the only known picture of William Tynedale hanging in my unit.
My dream was to find evidence that they had invented something important, such as a microscope, but
that the evidence had been lost after the accident that killed them.