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

"It was a brute," said Agravaine.
"We caught it! We of ourselves!"
"Sir Grummore did not catch one."
"But we did."

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Gawaine had forgotten about his sorrow for the unicorn. He began to dance round the body, waving his
boar-spear and uttering horrible shrieks.
"We must have a gralloch," said Gaheris. "We must do the matter properly, and cut its insides out, and
sling it over a pony, and take it home to the castle, like proper hunters."
"And then she will be pleased!"
"She will say, God's Feet, but my sons are of mickle might!"
"We shall be allowed to be like Sir Grummore and King Pellinore. Everything will go well with us from
now."
"How must we set about the gralloch?"
"We cut out its guts," said Agravaine.
Gareth got up and began to go away into the heather. He said, "I do not want to help cut him. Do you,
Meg?"
Meg, who was feeling ill inside herself, made no answer. Gareth untied her hairтАФand suddenly she was
off, running for all she was worth away from the tragedy, toward the castle. Gareth ran after her.
"Meg, Meg!" he called. "Wait for me. Do not run."
But Meg continued to run, as swiftly as an antalop, with her bare feet twinkling behind her, and Gareth
gave it up. He flung himself down in the heather and began to cry in earnestтАФhe did not know why.
At the gralloch, the three remaining huntsmen were in trouble. They had begun to slit at the skin of the
belly, but they did not know how to do it properly and so they had perforated the intestines. Everything
had begun to be horrible, and the once beautiful animal was spoiled and repulsive. All three of them
loved the unicorn in their various ways, Agravaine in the most twisted one, and, in proportion as they
became responsible for spoiling its beauty, so they began to hate it for their guilt. Gawaine particularly
began to hate the body. He hated it for being dead, for having been beautiful, for making him feel a
beast. He had loved it and helped to trap it, so now there was nothing to be done except to vent his
shame and hatred of himself upon the corpse. He hacked and cut and felt like crying too.
"We shall not ever get it done," they panted. "How can we ever carry it down, even if we manage the
gralloch?"
"But we must," said Gaheris. "We must. If we do not, what will be the good? We must take it home."
"We cannot carry it."
"We have not a pony."


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"At a gralloch, they sling the beast over a pony."
"We must cut his head off," said Agravaine. "We must cut its head off somehow, and carry that. It would
be enough if we took the head. We could carry it between us."
So they set to work, hating their work, at the horrid business of hacking through its neck.
Gareth stopped crying in the heather. He rolled over on his back, and immediately he was looking