"Melanie Rawn - The Sacrifice" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rawn Melanie)

such holy beings? My answer is this: that these Voices were not saints at all, but manifestat
of Satan and his minions, and that you are the tool of a false religion."
"I am not!" she cried. "Nom Dieu, I swear that all I have doneтАФ"
"But we have not yet explored the meaning of these things," he said, as calm as she wa
agitated. "I will educate you. Long ago, my ancestor, the great William, Duke of Normandy
claimed England as his right. And the blood of Harald the usurper spilled onto the ground f
an arrow through his eye. Years later, William's son, also a king, diedтАФalso arrow-shot. T
say he bled for miles as they carried him home in a cart. Another king, for whom I am name
ordered that an archbishop be slain most bloodilyтАФthough they say he was careful with his
words on the subject, was that Henry. A hundred years ago the Scot Wallace was hanged by
neck, cut down whilst still living, and his bloody entrails drawn out of his body as he
watchedтАФand The Bruce had his kingship. The father of my grandfather, also a king, was
killed as wellтАФbut without a mark upon his body, without a drop of blood. So someone els
must naturally be sacrificed in his stead so that his son, the third EdwardтАФ"
"Your grace," she interrupted impatiently, "I do not understand this talk of blood and
sacrifices. What has this to do with me?"
"You are the sacrifice." There, he had said it plain at last, this thing he feared. Not a sig
of his turmoil showed outwardly; fifty and more years as a Plantagenet bastard had taught h
facial discretion first of all.
Yet her eyesтАФshe saw something, he knew it. Settling himself, he went on, "Why else
you fear the fire so? Your blood must touch the soil of France for your death to have any
meaning. That is the ancient belief, is it not? Alors, why am I asking you, who have known
this time? You, who used the prophecies and have the powers of a witchтАФdo you know the
called my mother that? Even my own father, or so the chroniclers would have it, named her
witch and whoreтАФthough I never believed it of him, he loved her too long and too wellтАФ"
Very suddenlyтАФas if God's golden finger touched herтАФthe candle in his hand illumine
the peasant girl, and she became beautiful. "I see," she breathed. "Oh, yes, now I see."
"See what?" he jeered. "Your so-called saints? Perhaps God Himself?"
"Only the truth, my lord. And it is all so simple."
"Explain yourself, girl!"
"It is only this: Why me, and not you?" Sitting straight up on her cot, eagerness lighting
plain face, she nearly laughed aloud. "Oh, do you not see it? You have everythingтАФlands,
titles, wealth, royal blood, power and influence, fameтАФall but that which you want most."
leaned forward, her hands clasped together, her eyes shining. "What you lack is the certaint
God. You do not think yourself worthy in His EyesтАФand you a Cardinal of His Church!"
 "No more. I will hear no more."
She spoke on, enraptured with her own understanding. "Only have faith, your grace. I d
not know why I was chosen. I said during my trial that if those who asked for the signs and
not receive them were not worthy of them, then I could not help it. It is not for you or me to
decide, your grace. Do you think I asked for my Voices? I was but thirteen when first I hear
them, and for three years I tried with all my might not to hear them. I do not know why they
chose me and not you. I am sorry for you, and I wish with all my heart that you could know
joy I have known."

She dared pity him? Him?
"But now it appears that I shall die for my king and for France. God has not deserted m
am content."
"You will die," he rasped, breathing with difficulty, and it took every bit of courage he
possessed to meet her translucent gaze. "You will burn until there is nothing left of you but
gray ash. There will be no blood sacrifice. Your death will go un-consecrated by any powe