"T. H. White - The Once and Future King" - читать интересную книгу автора (White T.H)

King Conor Mac Nessa. He was a whale of a man who lived with his relations at a place called Tara of
the Kings. It was not long before this king had to go out to battle against thim bloody O'Haras, and he
got shot in the conflict with a magic ball. You are to understand that the ancient heroes were after
making thelmselves bullets out of the brains of their adversariesтАФwhich they would roll between the
palms of their hands in little pieces, and leave them to dry in the sun. I suppose they must have shot
them out of the arquebus, you know, as if they were sling-shot or bolts. Well, and if they did, this old
King was shot in the temples with one of thim same bullets, and it lodging against the bone of the skull,
at the critical point whatever. I'm a fine man now,' says the King, and he sends for the brehons and those
to advise with them about the obstetrics. The first brehon says, 'You're a dead man, King Conor. This
ball is at the lobe of the brain.' So said all the medical gintlemen, widout respect of person nor creed.
'Oh, what'll I do at all,' cries the King of Ireland. 'It's a hard fortune evidently, when a man can't be
fighting a little bit unless he comes to the end of his days.' 'None of yer prate, now,' say the surgeons,
there's wan thing which can be done, and that same thing is to keep from all unnatural excitement from
this time forward.' 'For that matter,' says they, 'ye must keep from all natural excitement also, or
otherwise the bullet will cause a rupture, and the rupture rising to a flux, and the flux to a
conflammation, will occasion an absolute abruption in the vital functions at all. It's yer only hope, King
Conor, or otherwise ye will lie compunctually as the worms made ye.' Well, begor, it was a fine state of
business, as you may imagine. There was that poor Conor in his castle, and he not able to laugh nor fight
nor take any small sup of spirited water nor to look upon a white colleen anyhow, for fear that his brains
would burst. The ball stood in his temples, half in, half out, and that was the sorrow with him, from that
day forward."

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"Wurra the doctors," said Mother Morlan. "Hoots, but they're na canny."
"What happened him?" asked Gawaine. "Did he live long in this dark room?"
"What happened him? I was now coming to that. Wan day there was a slashing thunderstorm in it, and
the castle walls shook like a long-net, and great part of the bailey fell upon them. It was the worst storm
that was known in those parts for whiles, and King Conor rushed out into the element to seek advice. He
found wan of his brehons standing there whatever, and axed him what could it be. This brehon was a
learned man, and he told King Conor. He said how our Saviour had been hanged on a tree in Jewry that
day, and how the storm was broken on account of it, and he spoke to King Conor about the gospel of
God. Then, what do you think, King Conor of Ireland ran back into his palace for to seek his sword in
righteous passion, and he ran out with it throughout the tempest to defend his SaviourтАФ and that was
how he died."
"He was dead?"
"Yes."
"Well!"
"What a nice way to do it," said Gareth. "It was no good to him, but it was grand!"
Agravaine said, "If I was told by my doctors to be careful, I would not lose my temper over nothing. I
should think what was happening, whatever."
"But it was chivalrous?"
Gawaine began to fidget with his toes.
"It was silly," he said eventually. "It did no good."
"But he was trying to do the good."
"It was not for his family," said Gawaine. "I do not know why he was so excited at all."
"Of course it was for his family. It was for God, who is the family of every person. King Conor went out
on the side of right, and gave his life to help it."