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

Old Kannadis brought my grandfather a pine wreath bound with wool, which should have been ready,
but had been found after some delay. There is always some small hitch at Troizen; we do not do these
things with the smoothness of Athens. The King Horse munched from the tripod, and flicked off flies with
his tail.

There were two more tripods; one bowl held water, the other water and wine. In the first my grandfather
washed his hands, and a young server dried them. The King Horse lifted his head from the feed, and it
seemed they looked at one another. My grandfather set his hand on the white muzzle, and stroked down
hard; the head dipped, and rose with a gentle toss. Diokles leaned down to me and said, "Look, he
consents."

I looked up at him. This year his beard showed clearly against the light. He said, "It means a good omen.
A lucky year." I nodded, thinking the purpose of the rite accomplished; now we would go home. But my
grandfather sprinkled meal on the horse's back from a golden dish; then took up a little knife bright with
grinding, and cut a lock from his mane. He gave a small piece to Talaos, who was standing near, and
some to the first of the barons. Then he turned my way, and beckoned. Diokles' hand on my shoulder
pushed me forward. "Go up," he whispered. "Go and take it."

I stepped out, hearing men whisper, and women coo like mating pigeons. I knew already that the son of
the Queen's own daughter ranked before the sons of the Palace women; but I had never had it noticed
publicly. I thought I was being honored like this because the King Horse was my brother.

Five or six strong white hairs were put in my hand. I had meant to thank my grandfather; but now I felt
come out of him the presence of the King, solemn as a sacred oak wood. So, like the others, I touched
the lock to my brow in silence. Then I went back, and Diokles said, "Well done."

My grandfather raised his hands and invoked the god. He hailed him as Earth-Shaker, Wave-Gatherer,
brother of King Zeus and husband of the Mother; Shepherd of Ships, Horse-Lover. I heard a whinny
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from beyond the pine woods, where the chariot teams were tethered, ready to race in honor of the god.
The King Horse raised his noble head, and softly answered.

The prayer was long, and my mind wandered, till I heard by the note that the end was coming. "Be it so,
Lord Poseidon, according to our prayer; and do you accept the offering." He held out his hand, and
someone put in it a great cleaver with a bright-ground edge. There were tall men standing with ropes of
oxhide in their hands. My grandfather felt the cleaver's edge and, as in his chariot, braced his feet apart.

It was a good clean killing. I myself, with all Athens watching, am content to do no worse. Yet, even
now, I still remember. How he reared up like a tower, feeling his death, dragging the men like children;
the scarlet cleft in the white throat, the rank hot smell; the ruin of beauty, the fall of strength, the ebb of
valor; and the grief, the burning pity as he sank upon his knees and laid his bright head in the dust. That
blood seemed to tear the soul out of my breast, as if my own heart had shed it.

As the newborn babe, who has been rocked day and night in his soft cave knowing no other, is thrust
forth where the harsh air pierces him and the fierce light stabs his eyes, so it was with me. But between
me and my mother, where she stood among the women, was the felled carcass twitching in blood, and