"Mary Renault - Greece 1 - The King Must Die" - читать интересную книгу автора (Renault Mary)

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Mary Renault's THE KING MUST DIE

Copyright 1958 by Mary Renault

Oh, Mother! I was born to die soon;
but Olympian Zeus the Thunderer
owes me some honor for it.
Achilles, in the ILIAD

BOOK I TROIZEN

1

The Citadel of Troizen, where the Palace stands, was built by giants before anyone remembers. But the
Palace was built by my great-grandfather. At sunrise, if you look at it from Kalauria across the strait, the
columns glow fire-red and the walls are golden. It shines bright against the dark woods on the
mountainside.

Our house is Hellene, sprung from the seed of Ever-Living Zeus. We worship the Sky Gods before
Mother Dia and the gods of earth. And we have never mixed our blood with the blood of the Shore
People, who had the land before us.

My grandfather had about fifteen children in his household, when I was born. But his queen and her sons
were dead, leaving only my mother born in wedlock. As for my father, it was said in the Palace that I had
been fathered by a god. By the time I was five, I had perceived that some people doubted this. But my
mother never spoke of it; and I cannot remember a time when I should have cared to ask her.

When I was seven, the Horse Sacrifice came due, a great day in Troizen.

It is held four-yearly, so I remembered nothing of the last one. I knew it concerned the King Horse, but
thought it was some act of homage to him. To my mind, nothing could have been more fitting. I knew him
well.

He lived in the great horse field, down on the plain. From the Palace roof I had often watched him,
snuffing the wind with his white mane flying, or leaping on his mares. And only last year I had seen him do
battle for his kingdom. One of the House Barons, seeing from afar the duel begin, rode down to the olive
slopes for a nearer sight, and took me on his crupper. I watched the great stallions rake the earth with
their forefeet, arch their necks, and shout their war cries; then charge in with streaming manes and teeth
laid bare. At last the loser foundered; the King Horse snorted over him, threw up his head neighing, and
trotted off toward his wives. He had never been haltered, and was as wild as the sea. Not the King
himself would ever throw a leg across him. He belonged to the god.

His valor alone would have made me love him. But I had another cause as well. I thought he was my
brother.