"Andrew J. Offutt - Cormac 05 - Sword of the Gael" - читать интересную книгу автора (Offutt Andrew J)

done here is with love of HowardтАЩs work and what little I know of old Eirrin.
Maybe the publisher will let me write another Cormac story. ItтАЩs fun.
andrew j offutt
Kentucky, U.S.A.
April, 1975




Chapter One: The Wrath of Manannan MacLir
Patrick, enquire of God
Whether he recollects when Cormac was alive;
Or hath he seen, East or West
A man his equal, in time of fight.
тАФfrom тАЬCormac the Gael,тАЭ
by Ceann Ruadh, the тАЬMinstrel-kingтАЭ
тАЬI pray that we reach the land of Eirrin, those who are riding upon the great,
productive, vast sea:
That they be distributed upon her plains, her mountains, and her valleys;
upon her forests that shed showers of nuts and all fruits; upon her rivers and her
cataracts; upon her lakes and her great writers; upon her spring-abounding hills:

That they may hold their fairs and equestrian sports upon her territories:
That there may be a king from them in Tara; and that Tara be the territory of
their many kings:
That noble Eirrin be the home of the ships and boats of the sons of Milesius:
Eirrin that is now in darkness, it is for her this oration is pronounced:
Let the learned wives of Breas and Buaigne pray that we may reach the noble
woman, great Eirrin.
Let Eremon pray, and let Ir and Eber implore, that we may reach Eirrin.тАЭ
тАФPrayer of the poet Amergin for the coming of the Celts to Eire
Like a demon from the darkest Plutonian hell of the fallen Romans, the wind
shrieked and howled in its sudden attack.
It was a vicious wild thing bent on the destruction of sailcloth and timber and
human flesh, and men of the Wolfsail went hurtling from the frail vessel to their
deaths. Their screams were unheard above that of the slashing wind.
The deckless little ship spun and careened. Its single mast was cracked and had
fallen, to carry with it two good men amid striped squaresail of Nordic weave. Down
went WolfsailтАЩs starboard, till she lay flat with her port side to the darkling sun. Her
keel rose like a low wall from the brine. In that sudden sideward lunge more men met
their weirds with wails of horror and black death.
The hugest of those desperate seafarers held fast the jagged stump of the ruined
mast. To his great broad swordbelt clung one of his men; to his knotty calf in its
soaked leggings hung another, fearful of being swept off the ridge of the world. The
huge man gripped the mast as though it was his beloved. He it was who bellowed
out to Father Odin and his son The Thunderer, for they had escaped the dread
whirlpool off these nameless little isles of unpredictable elements only to fall prey to
this demon-shrieking gale.
One-eyed Odin and his son heard notтАФor if they did, were steadfast in their
resolve to punish their sometime servant for his many sins. Nor durst he relinquish