"Mary Stewart - The Moonspinners" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stewart Mary)

The Moonspinners
by Mary Stewart
(version 3.0)
Copyright ┬й 1962
by Mary Stewart
For KITTY and GERALD RAINBOW
The author is indebted to Mr. A. E. Gunther for permission to quote from his father's edition of The
Greek Herbal of Dioscorides.
 1
Lightly this little herald flew aloft . . .
Onward it flies . . .
Until it reach'd a splashing fountain's side
That, near a cavern's mouth, forever pour'd
Unto the temperate air . . .
Keats: Endymion


It was the egret, flying out of the lemon grove, that started it. I won't pretend I saw it straight away as the
conventional herald of adventure, the white stag of the fairy-tale, which, bounding from the enchanted
thicket, entices the prince away from his followers, and loses him in the forest where danger threatens
with the dusk. But, when the big white bird flew suddenly up among the glossy leaves and the
lemon-flowers, and wheeled into the mountain, I followed it. What else is there to do when such a thing
happens on a brilliant April noonday at the foot of the White Mountains of Crete; when the road is hot
and dusty, but the gorge is green, and full of the sound of water, and the white wings, flying ahead, flicker
in and out of deep shadow, and the air is full of the scent of lemon-blossom?

The car from Heraklion had set me down where the track for Agios Georgios leaves the road. I got out,
adjusted on my shoulder the big bag of embroidered canvas that did duty as a haversack, then turned to
thank the American couple for the lift.

"It was a pleasure, honey." Mrs. Studebaker peered, rather anxiously, out of the car window. "But are
you sure you're all right? I don't like putting you down like this, in the middle of nowhere. You're sure this
is the right place? What does that signpost say?"

The sign-post, when consulted, said, helpfully AG GEORGIOS. "Well, what do you know?" said Mrs.
Studebaker. "Now, look, honey тАФ"

"It's all right," I said, laughing. "That is 'Agios Georgios,' and, according to your driver тАФ and the map тАФ
the village is about three-quarters of a mile away, down this track. Once round that bit of cliff down
there, I'll probably be able to see it."

"I surely hope so." Mr. Studebaker had got out of the car when I did, and was now supervising the driver
as he lifted my one small case from the boot, and set it beside me at the edge of the road. Mr.
Studebaker was large and pink and sweet-tempered, and wore an orange shirt outside his pearl-gray drill
trousers, and a wide floppy linen hat. He thought Mrs. Studebaker the cleverest and most beautiful
woman in the world, and said so; in consequence she, too, was sweet-tempered, besides being
extremely smart. They were both lavish with that warm, extroverted, and slightly naive kindliness which
seems a specifically American virtue. I had made their acquaintance at my hotel only the evening before,
and, as soon as they heard that I was making for the southern coast of Crete, nothing would content them
but that I should join them for part of their hired tour of the island. Now, it seemed, nothing would please