"Walter Jon Williams - Wall, Stone, Craft" - читать интересную книгу автора (Williams Walter John)

WALL, STONE, CRAFT
Walter Jon Williams


1




She awoke, there in the common room of the inn, from a brief dream of roses and death. Once Mary came awake she recalled there were wild roses on her motherТs grave, and wondered if her motherТs spirit had visited her.

On her motherТs grave, MaryТs lover had first proposed their elopement. It was there the two of them had first made love.

Now she believed she was pregnant. Her lover was of the opinion that she was mistaken. That was about where it stood.

Mary concluded that it was best not to think about it. And so, blinking sleep from her eyes, she sat in the common room of the inn at Le Caillou and resolved to study her Italian grammar by candlelight.

Plurals. La nascita, le nascite. La madre, le madri. Un bambino, i bambiniЕ

Interruption: stampings, snortings, the rattle of harness, the barking of dogs. Four young Englishmen entered the inn, one in scarlet uniform coat, the others in fine traveling clothes. Raindrops dazzled on their shoulders. The innkeeper bustled out from the kitchen, smiled, proffered the register.

Mary, unimpressed by anything English, concentrated on the grammar.

УLet me sign, George,Ф the redcoat said. УMy hand needs the practice.Ф Mary glanced up at the comment.

УI say, George, hereТs a fellow signed in Greek!Ф The Englishman peered at yellowed pages of the innТs register, trying to make out the words in the dim light of the innkeeperТs lamp. Mary smiled at the English officerТs efforts.

УPerseus, I believe the name is. Perseus BusseusЧdТye suppose he means Bishop?ЧKselleius. And he gives his occupation as Сte anthropou philouТЧthat would make him a friendly fellow, eh?ЧФ The officer looked over his shoulder and grinned, then returned to the register. У СKaiatheos.Т Ф The officer scowled, then straightened. УDoes that mean what I think it does, George?Ф

GeorgeЧthe pretty auburn-haired man in byronsЧshook rain off his short cape, stepped to the register, examined the text. УNot Сfriendly fellow,Т Ф he said. УThat would be Сanehr philos.Т СAnthroposТ is mankind, not man.Ф There was the faintest touch of Scotland in his speech.

УSo it is,Ф said the officer. УIt comes back now.Ф

George bent at his slim waist and looked carefully at the register. УWhat the fellow says is, СBoth friend of man andЧТ Ф He frowned, then looked at his friend. УYou were right about the Сatheist,Т IТm afraid.Ф

The officer was indignant. УAinТt funny, George,Ф he said.

George gave a cynical little half-smile. His voice changed, turned comical and fussy, became that of a high-pitched English schoolmaster. УLet us try to make out the name of this famous atheist.СТ He bent over the register again. С ТPerseusЧ you had that right, Somerset. BusseusЧhow very irregular. KselleiusЧKelly? Shelley?Ф He smiled at his friend. His voice became very Irish. УKelly, I imagine. An atheistical upstart Irish schoolmaster with a little Greek. But what the Busseus might be eludes me, unless his middle name is Omnibus.Ф

Somerset chuckled. Mary rose from her place and walked quietly toward the pair. УThe gentlemanТs name is Bysshe, sir,Ф she said. УPercy Bysshe Shelley.Ф

The two men turned in surprise. The officerЧSomersetЧbowed as he perceived a lady. Mary saw for the first time that he had one empty sleeve pinned across his tunic, which would account for the comment about the hand. The otherЧGeorge, the man in byronsЧswept off his hat and gave Mary a flourishing bow, one far too theatrical to be taken seriously. When he straightened, he gave Mary a little frown.

УBysshe Shelley?Ф he said. УAny relation to Sir Bysshe, the baronet?Ф

УHis grandson.Ф

УSir Bysshe is a protege of old Norfolk.Ф This an aside to his friends. Radical Whiggery was afoot, or so the tone implied. George returned his attention to Mary as the other Englishmen gathered about her. УAn interesting family, no doubt,Ф he said, and smiled at her. Mary wanted to flinch from the compelling way he looked at her, gazed upward, intently, from beneath his brows. УAnd are you of his party?Ф

УI am.Ф