"Roads by Seabury Quinn" - читать интересную книгу автора (Quinn Seabury)

The waxing moon rode high above the grove where
Claus lay bundled in his cloak. Occasionally from the denser
thickets came the chirp of bird or squeak of insect, but
otherwise the night was silent, for robbers roamed the
highway after dark, and though the soldiers of the Governor
kept patrol the wise man stayed indoors until the sun had
risen. But the hardiest highwayman would stop and give the
matter sober second thought ere he attacked a sworded giant,
and the nearest inn was several miles away; also a journey of
a thousand miles and more lay between the Northman and his
home, and though his wallet bulged with gold saved from his
years spent as a hired fighter in the Tetrarch's barracks, it
behooved him to economize. Besides, the turf was sweet to
smell, which the caravansaries were not, and the memory of
the widow woman's murdered son had set a canker in his
brain. It were better that he had no traffic with his fellow men
for several hours.
The broken rhythm of a donkey's hoofs came faintly to
him from the highway. The beast walked slowly, as though
tired, and as if he who led it were also weary and footsore, yet
urged by some compulsion to pursue his journey through the
night."By Thor!" mused Claus, "they are a nation of strange
men, these Jews. Always disputing, ever arguing, never

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faltering in their lust for gold; yet withal they have a spirit in
them like no other people has. Should their long-sought
Messiah finally come, methinks that all the might of Rome
would scarcely be enough to stop them in their -"
The hail came piercingly, mounting to a sharp crescendo,
freighted with a burden of despair. "Help - help - we be
beset by robbers!"
Claus smiled sardonically. "So eager to be early at
tomorrow's market that he braves the dangerous highway
after dark, and when the robbers set upon him -"
A woman's scream of terror seconded the man's
despairing hail, and Claus bounded from his couch upon the
turf, dragging at the sword that hung between his shoulders.
A knot of spearmen clustered round a man and woman.
From their crested helmets and bronze cuirasses he knew
them to be soldiers in the livery of Rome; by their hook-
nosed faces he knew them for Syrians, Jewish renegades,
perhaps, possibly Arabs or Armenians, for such composed
the little private army which the Tetrarch kept for show, and
to do the work he dared not ask the Roman garrison to do.
"Ho, what goes on here?" challenged Claus as he
emerged from the grove. "What mean ye by molesting