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

"Uncle Arthur," he said, "ye're a grand man. I telled ye it would come to right."
"And you are a grand man, too, Gawaine, a good man and a kind one,"
They kissed in the ancient way, joyfully, on both cheeks.
"There," they said. "There."
"And now what is to be done?"
"That is for you to say."
The old King looked about him as if he were searching for the thing to do. His age, the suggestion of
infirmity, had lifted from him. He looked straighter. His cheeks were rosy. The crow's feet round his
eyes were beaming.
"I think we ought to have a monstrous drink to begin with."
"Verra guid. Call the page."
"Page, page!" he cried at the door. "Where the devil have you gone? Page! Here, you varmint, bring us
some drink. What have you been doing? Watching your mistress being burned? And a very good sell for
you!"
The delighted child gave a squeak and rattled down the stairs again, which he was half-way up.
"And then, after the drink?" asked Gawaine.
Arthur came back cheerfully, rubbing his hands.
"I have not thought. Something will happen. Perhaps we can make Lancelot apologize, or some
arrangement like thatтАФand then he can come back. We could get him to explain that he was in the
Queen's bedroom because she had sent for him to pay the Meliagrance fee, as she had briefed him, and
she didn't want to have any talk about the payment. And then, of course, he had to rescue her, because he
knew she was innocent. Yes, I think we could manage something like that. But they would have to
behave thelmselves in the future."
Gawaine's enthusiasm had evaporated before his uncle's. He spoke slowly, with his eyes on the floor.
"I doubt..."he began.
The King looked at him.


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"I doubt ye will ever patch it up in full, while Mordred is on life."
Lifting the tapestry of the doorway with a pale hand, the ghostly creature in half-armour, its unarmed
elbow in a sling, stood on the threshold,
"Never," it said with the bitter drama of a perfect cue, "while Mordred is alive."
Arthur turned round in surprise. He surveyed the feverish eyes, then went to his son with a movement of
concern.
"Why, Mordred!"
"Why, Arthur."
"Dinna speak to the King like yon. How dare ye?"
"Do not speak to me at all."
Its toneless voice had stopped the King half-way. Now he pulled himself together.
"Come," he said kindly. "It has been a terrible carnage, we know. We saw it from the window. But
surely it is better that your aunt should be safe, and all the forms of justice satisfied...."
"It has been a terrible carnage."
The voice was that of an automaton, but deep with meaning.
"The foot-people..."
"Trash."
Gawaine was turning on his half-brother like a mechanism. His whole body turned.